Der Mann aus Babadag: Wie ein türkischer Janitschar 1683 nach München verschleppt und dort fürstlicher Sänftenträger wurde by Markus Krischer (review)

Before this book gets to the topic at hand, the Janitschar (Janissary) of the title, it introduces the reader to the second half of the seventeenth century using a contemporary engraving of the Munich market square as the stage for the action that is about to unfold. At the right hand corner of the engraving, we see a sedan chair or litter about to be lifted by two carriers who seem to be instructed by a man pointing a staff. This small scene in the detailed panorama of the square—at whose center we see the Mariensäule still standing in present day Munich—is important. Markus Krischer tells us that, in the 1680s, at least one of the litter carriers could have been a Turk—Achmet, the janissary. He had been brought to Munich as a prisoner of war after the 1683 defeat of the Turkish army at Kahlenberg, which liberated Vienna from the Turkish siege. Grand Vizier Kara Mustapha’s ambition to gain hegemony over all of Europe led to this siege. The battle for Vienna was epic, as was the defeat, which brought the beginning of the end Ottoman hegemonic ambitions.

Elector Max Emmanuel of Bavaria participated in this historical battle. After the glorious victory, he returned to Munich, entering the city to a triumphant welcome by his court and the people. Along with him came three Turkish prisoners, Achmet among them. On the basis of sparse but significant documentary evidence, Krischer pieces together his, later Anton Achmet’s, story, starting with his place of birth as a son of a peasant in Babadag, present day Rumania. It is followed by Achmet’s trek to join the Sultan’s army four months after his marriage. He was imprisoned after the Sultan’s defeat at Vienna in 1683. We learn of Achmet’s baptism—now bearing the first name of Anton—in the Munich prison in 1684 by the priest who, four years later, officiated his marriage to the Christian woman Kunigunde Ertmann from Stainach. We know that the couple had four children and that he worked for a time in the Elector’s cloth factory (Fabrik in der Au). Later he found employment in the Elector’s stable and eventually as litter carrier, which meant he drew a salary to support his family.

Around this rather scant documentary evidence, Krischer constructs a lively panorama of German-Turkish interactions during the second half of the seventeenth century in and around Munich. Moreover, he assembles considerable cultural information about Turkish and German military leadership and strategies as well as the Turkish custom of “Knabenlese”—the conscription of young Christian boys who were collected from Christian families in Ottoman occupied Europe. They were taken to Constantinople, converted to Islam, and carefully groomed and educated. They provided the Turkish military and administration with elite leaders and who often reached positions of distinction and power within them. We also meet several translators, important intermediaries between both sides of the linguistic divide, whose contributions to negotiations between the parties were as vital as any army in the battlefield.

This is an entertaining and instructive book about global themes: Ottoman ambitions, the imperial victory, and Max Immanuel’s ultimate failure to gain the Spanish royal title for himself and his lineage. The global is effectively juxtaposed to the local: Munich, the residence of the Wittelsbach dynasty, the economic challenges brought about by Bavarian military expenditures and Max Immanuel’s political ambitions as well as the slave trade and captive exchanges in which both sides engaged. Because of its journalistic bent—the author works for the German news magazine Focus—this book goes easy on the scholarly apparatus and does not overwhelm the reader with lengthy notes. It is entertaining and instructive, and thus best...