1332
The next story we have to tell is so strange and wild, that it would
seem better to befit the cloudy times when history had not yet been
disentangled from fable, than the comparatively clear light of the
fourteenth century.
It took place in the island of Rhodes. This Greek isle had become the
home of the Knights of St. John, or Hospitaliers, an order of sworn
brethren who had arisen at the time of the Crusades. At first they had
been merely monks, who kept open house for the reception of the poor
penniless pilgrims who arrived at Jerusalem in need of shelter, and
often of nursing and healing. The good monks not only fed and housed
them, but did their best to cure the many diseases that they would catch
in the toilsome journey in that feverish climate; and thus it has come
to pass that the word hospitium, which in Latin only means an inn, has,
in modern languages, given birth, on the one hand, to hotel, or lodging
house, on the other, to hospital, or house of healing. The Hospital at
Jerusalem was called after St. John the Almoner, a charitable Bishop
of old, and the brethren were Hospitaliers. By and by, when the first
Crusade was over, and there was a great need of warriors to maintain the
Christian cause in Jerusalem, the Hospitaliers thought it a pity that
so many strong arms should be prevented from exerting themselves, by the
laws that forbade the clergy to do battle, and they obtained permission
from the Pope to become warriors as well as monks. They were thus all in
one--knights, priests, and nurses; their monasteries were both castles
and hospitals; and the sick pilgrim or wounded Crusader was sure of all
the best tendance and medical care that the times could afford, as well
as of all the ghostly comfort and counsel that he might need, and, if he
recovered, he was escorted safely down to the seashore by a party strong
enough to protect him from the hordes of robber Arabs. All this was for
charity's sake, and without reward. Surely the constitution of the Order
was as golden as its badge--the eight-pointed cross--which the brethren
wore round their neck. They wore it also in white over their shoulder
upon a black mantle. And the knights who had been admitted to the full
honors of the Order had a scarlet surcoat, likewise with the white
cross, over their armor. The whole brotherhood was under the command of
a Grand Master, who was elected in a chapter of all the knights, and to
whom all vowed to render implicit obedience.
Good service in all their three capacities had been done by the Order as
long as the Crusaders were able to keep a footing in the Holy Land; but
they were driven back step by step, and at last, in 1291, their last
stronghold at Acre was taken, after much desperate fighting, and the
remnant of the Hospitaliers sailed away to the isle of Cyprus, where,
after a few years, they recruited their forces, and, in 1307, captured
the island of Rhodes, which had been a nest of Greek and Mahometan
pirates. Here they remained, hoping for a fresh Crusade to recover the
Holy Sepulcher, and in the meantime fulfilling their old mission as
the protectors and nurses of the weak. All the Mediterranean Sea was
infested by corsairs from the African coast and the Greek isles, and
these brave knights, becoming sailors as well as all they had been
before, placed their red flag with its white cross at the masthead of
many a gallant vessel that guarded the peaceful traveler, hunted down
the cruel pirate, and brought home his Christian slave, rescued from
laboring at the oar, to the Hospital for rest and tendance. Or their
treasures were used in redeeming the captives in the pirate cities. No
knight of St. John might offer any ransom for himself save his sword
and scarf; but for the redemption of their poor fellow Christians
their wealth was ready, and many a captive was released from toiling
in Algiers or Tripoli, or still worse, from rowing the pirate vessels,
chained to the oar, between the decks, and was restored to health and
returned to his friends, blessing the day he had been brought into the
curving harbour of Rhodes, with the fine fortified town of churches and
monasteries.
Some eighteen years after the conquest of Rhodes, the whole island was
filled with dismay by the ravages of an enormous creature, living in a
morass at the foot of Mount St. Stephen, about two miles from the city
of Rhodes. Tradition calls it a dragon, and whether it were a crocodile
or a serpent is uncertain. There is reason to think that the monsters
of early creation were slow in becoming extinct, or it is not impossible
that either a crocodile or a python might have been brought over by
storms or currents from Africa, and have grown to a more formidable size
than usual in solitude among the marshes, while the island was changing
owners. The reptile, whatever it might be, was the object of extreme
dread; it devoured sheep and cattle, when they came down to the water,
and even young shepherd boys were missing. And the pilgrimage to the
Chapel of St. Stephen, on the hill above its lair, was especially a
service of danger, for pilgrims were believed to be snapped up by the
dragon before they could mount the hill.
Several knights had gone out to attempt the destruction of the creature,
but not one had returned, and at last the Grand Master, Helion de
Villeneuve, forbade any further attacks to be made. The dragon is said
to have been covered with scales that were perfectly impenetrable either
to arrows or any cutting weapon; and the severe loss that encounters
with him had cost the Order, convinced the Grand Master that he must be
let alone.
However, a young knight, named Dieudonne de Gozon, was by no means
willing to acquiesce in the decree; perhaps all the less because it came
after he had once gone out in quest of the monster, but had returned,
by his own confession, without striking a blow. He requested leave of
absence, and went home for a time to his father's castle of Gozon, in
Languedoc; and there he caused a model of the monster to be made. He had
observed that the scales did not protect the animal's belly, though
it was almost impossible to get a blow at it, owing to its tremendous
teeth, and the furious strokes of its length of tail. He therefore
caused this part of his model to be made hollow, and filled with food,
and obtaining two fierce young mastiffs, he trained them to fly at the
under side of the monster, while he mounted his warhorse, and endeavored
to accustom it likewise to attack the strange shape without swerving.
When he thought the education of horse and dogs complete, he returned to
Rhodes; but fearing to be prevented from carrying out his design, he did
not land at the city, but on a remote part of the coast, whence he made
his way to the chapel of St. Stephen. There, after having recommended
himself to God, he left his two French squires, desiring them to return
home if he were slain, but to watch and come to him if he killed the
dragon, or were only hurt by it. He then rode down the hillside, and
towards the haunt of the dragon. It roused itself at his advance, and at
first he charged it with his lance, which was perfectly useless against
the scales. His horse was quick to perceive the difference between the
true and the false monster, and started back, so that he was forced to
leap to the ground; but the two dogs were more staunch, and sprang at
the animal, whilst their master struck at it with his sword, but still
without reaching a vulnerable part, and a blow from the tail had thrown
him down, and the dragon was turning upon him, when the movement left
the undefended belly exposed. Both mastiffs fastened on it at once, and
the knight, regaining his feet, thrust his sword into it. There was a
death grapple, and finally the servants, coming down the hill, found
their knight lying apparently dead under the carcass of the dragon. When
they had extricated him, taken off his helmet, and sprinkled him with
water, he recovered, and presently was led into the city amid the
ecstatic shouts of the whole populace, who conducted him in triumph to
the palace of the Grand Master.
We have seen how Titus Manlius was requited by his father for his
breach of discipline. It was somewhat in the same manner that Helion de
Villeneuve received Dieudonne. We borrow Schiller's beautiful version
of the conversation that took place, as the young knight, pale, with his
black mantle rent, his shining armor dinted, his scarlet surcoat stained
with blood, came into the Knights' Great Hall.
'Severe and grave was the Master's brow,
Quoth he, 'A hero bold art thou,
By valor 't is that knights are known;
A valiant spirit hast thou shown;
But the first duty of a knight,
Now tell, who vows for CHRIST to fight
And bears the Cross on his coat of mail.'
The listeners all with fear grew pale,
While, bending lowly, spake the knight,
His cheeks with blushes burning,
'He who the Cross would bear aright
Obedience must be learning.'
Even after hearing the account of the conflict, the Grand Master did not
abate his displeasure.
'My son, the spoiler of the land
Lies slain by thy victorious hand
Thou art the people's god, but so
Thou art become thine Order's foe;
A deadlier foe thine heart has bred
Than this which by thy hand is dead,
That serpent still the heart defiling
To ruin and to strife beguiling,
It is that spirit rash and bold,
That scorns the bands of order;
Rages against them uncontrolled
Till earth is in disorder.
'Courage by Saracens is shown,
Submission is the Christian's own;
And where our Saviour, high and holy,
Wandered a pilgrim poor and lowly
Upon that ground with mystery fraught,
The fathers of our Order taught
The duty hardest to fulfil
Is to give up your own self-will
Thou art elate with glory vain.
Away then from my sight!
Who can his Saviour's yoke disdain
Bears not his Cross aright.'
'An angry cry burst from the crowd,
The hall rang with their tumult loud;
Each knightly brother prayed for grace.
The victor downward bent his face,
Aside his cloak in silence laid,
Kissed the Grand Master's hand, nor stayed.
The Master watched him from the hall,
Then summoned him with loving call,
'Come to embrace me, noble son,
Thine is the conquest of the soul;
Take up the Cross, now truly won,
By meekness and by self-control.'
The probation of Dieudonne is said to have been somewhat longer than
the poem represents, but after the claims of discipline had been
established, he became a great favorite with stern old Villeneuve, and
the dragon's head was set up over the gate of the city, where Thèvenot
professed to have seen it in the seventeenth century, and said that it
was larger than that of a horse, with a huge mouth and teeth and very
large eyes. The name of Rhodes is said to come from a Phoenician word,
meaning a serpent, and the Greeks called this isle of serpents, which
is all in favor of the truth of the story. But, on the other hand, such
traditions often are prompted by the sight of the fossil skeletons of
the dragons of the elder world, and are generally to be met with where
such minerals prevail as are found in the northern part of Rhodes. The
tale is disbelieved by many, but it is hard to suppose it an entire
invention, though the description of the monster may have been
exaggerated.
Dieudonne de Gozon was elected to the Grand Mastership after the death
of Villeneuve, and is said to have voted for himself. If so, it seems as
if he might have had, in his earlier days, an overweening opinion of
his own abilities. However, he was an excellent Grand Master, a great
soldier, and much beloved by all the poor peasants of the island, to
whom he was exceedingly kind. He died in 1353, and his tomb is said to
have been the only inscribed with these words, 'Here lies the Dragon
Slayer.'