TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
Footnote anchors are denoted by [number], and the footnotes have
been placed at the end of the book.
Some minor changes to the text are noted at the end of the book.
KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN:
BATTLE OF LEPANTO AND SIEGE OF VIENNA
[Illustration: SIEGE OF RHODES.]
LONDON: BURNS & OATES, LIMITED.
NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO: BENZIGER BROTHERS.
PREFACE.
In this little volume it has not been attempted to give a complete
history of the Order of Knights Hospitallers, even from the
comparatively late date from which the narrative begins; nor, indeed,
has it been thought necessary, in a publication of such slight
pretensions, to enter into a full and detailed description of the
several great sieges around which the chief interest of the story
gathers. All that the writer has endeavoured to do is, to present the
reader with as vivid a picture of events so memorable in the annals
of the world as could be conveyed in a rapid and inelaborate sketch.
Other incidents and circumstances having an important bearing on
the general contest between the Moslem and the Christian have been
interwoven with the staple of the narrative, either for the purpose
of linking together the principal facts, or of giving them that
position and prominence which belongs to them.
The determined courage and heroic devotion of the Knights of St.
John have commanded the admiration of every noble and generous mind,
whatever may have been its religious convictions or prejudices.
At Acre, at Smyrna, at Rhodes, and lastly at Malta, these brave
champions of the faith occupied what for the time being was the
outpost of Christendom. At times almost annihilated, they rose again
before the eyes of their enemies with more than recovered strength;
abandoned, or but tardily and grudgingly succoured by the powers of
Europe,—who were too much engaged with their own political quarrels,
and too deeply absorbed by their own selfish and immediate interests,
to look to the future or unite against the common foe,—they
confronted single-handed the enormous hosts of the infidels in their
descents upon Europe, arrested their triumphant march towards the
West, retreated from one position only to rally in another, and renew
a contest which in appearance was hopeless; and at length, when all
seemed lost, by sheer fortitude and perseverance they baffled and
beat back the barbarian invader in the very pride of his strength, so
that he never dared to approach their stronghold again.
So much is patent on the very face of history, and is acknowledged
by all. But few, save they who share the faith of these brave men,
seem to discern wherein the secret of their strength lay, and what
it was that lent such force to their arms, endued them with that
dauntless courage, that irresistible energy, and that tenacity of
purpose, which enabled them to dare and to do and to suffer as
they did. Some, knowing not how else to characterise it, give it
the name of “attachment to their order,”—an indefinable something
corresponding to what the world calls honour, or _esprit de corps_.
Doubtless the Knights of St. John, as sworn companions in arms,
vowed to fight and to die in the same great cause, felt themselves
bound to each other by no ordinary tie, and were ever ready to
sacrifice their lives for the sake of their brethren; but it was
not in this that their strength lay. It lay in the simple power of
divine faith, in a religious devotion as humble as it was ardent,
and a burning enthusiasm for the cause of God in the world. This it
was that elevated their valour to a supernatural virtue, and gave
them the calm intrepid bearing and the indomitable spirit of martyrs.
They were dutiful sons of holy Church, and as such they fought in
her defence; always and every where they demeaned themselves as
veritable soldiers of the Cross, faithful followers of Jesus, devout
clients of Mary.
And in this was included what can never be separated from it—a
true-hearted and loyal obedience to the successor of St. Peter. The
Knights of St. John were ever the devoted subjects of the Holy See.
It was as the Pope’s militia that they performed those wondrous deeds
of arms which have gained them the respect and sympathy of writers
who can scarcely allude to the occupant of Peter’s chair without an
expression of contempt; and if to them, and to those other noble
warriors whose exploits are related in the following pages, belong
the credit and the renown of having stemmed the advancing tide of
Ottoman invasion, it is to the Popes in the first place that the
glory is due.
Europe owes to the Sovereign Pontiffs a heavy debt of gratitude for
the indefatigable zeal with which they never ceased to sound the note
of alarm, and to urge the Christian powers, not only to oppose the
farther progress of the Turkish arms, but to drive back the barbarian
hordes into the regions from which they had emerged; a debt all
the heavier that each respite and each success was obtained almost
against the will of those for whom it was won, and with an apparent
unconsciousness, on their part, of the imminence of the danger or
the nature of the calamity with which they were threatened. If the
Turk retreated from Malta in shame and confusion,—if at Lepanto he
lost the prestige of his naval superiority,—if Vienna defied his
beleaguering hosts and sent him flying from her walls, never again
to return,—it was the Vicar of Christ who thus foiled him and smote
him, and who, from the height of his throne on the Vatican hill,
pronounced that irreversible word, “Thus far shalt thou come, and
no farther.” Every check, every failure, every defeat the infidels
encountered, originated with Rome. D’Aubusson, L’Isle Adam, La
Valette, Don John of Austria, Sobieski,—all were but the lieutenants
of the Pope; and that Europe was not delivered over to a blasphemous
apostasy, and desolated and trodden down by the foulest tyranny
which the world has ever known, may justly be attributed, in the
good providence of God, to the untiring vigilance and the energetic
and persevering hostility of the old man who reigns at Rome, and who
never dies.[1]
The writer had relied chiefly on the works of the Abbé Vertot and Mr.
Taafe for the sketch of the Order of Knights Hospitallers. It may
be proper, however, to state, that since the manuscript came into
the editor’s hands it has been carefully compared with the text of
various approved authors who have either previously or subsequently
written on the subject, and to the results of whose labours reference
is made in the notes. The account of the Battle of Lepanto is mainly
founded on the history recently published by Don Cajetan Rosell, and
the _Life of St. Pius V._, by Maffei; and the story of the Siege and
Relief of Vienna is taken for the most part from Salvandy’s _Life of
John Sobieski_, and that by the Abbé Coyer.
E. H. T.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
Commencement of the Order—The object of its institution—Its
achievements in the Holy Land—Its settlement in Acre after the
fall of Jerusalem—Description of Acre—The Great Hospital and its
traditions—Successes of the Saracens—Siege of Acre under Melec
Seraf, sultan of Egypt—The last assault—Massacre—The survivors of
the Order take refuge in Cyprus 1
CHAPTER II.
The Knights at Limisso—Commencement of their naval
power—Suppression of the Templars—Enterprise of the
Hospitallers against Rhodes—Its final success—The island and
its dependencies—First hostilities with the Turks—Deposition of
Villaret—Complaints against the Order—Division into languages—The
Pope charges the Knights with the defence of Smyrna 21
CHAPTER III.
Progress of the Turks—Bajazet and Timour the Tartar—Siege
and conquest of Smyrna—St. Peter’s of the Freed—Greatness of
the Order under Naillac—Mahomet II.—Fall of Constantinople—
Threatened invasion of Rhodes—Death of Scanderbeg—Conquest of
Lesbos and Negropont—Election of Peter d’Aubusson 39
CHAPTER IV.
Character of D’Aubusson—Religious union in Rhodes—Destruction
of the suburbs—Arrival of the Turkish fleet—Attack on St.
Nicholas—Conduct of D’Aubusson during the siege—First repulse
of the infidels—Fresh attack on the Jewish quarter—Storm of the
city—Defeat and failure of the Turks—D’Aubusson’s danger and
recovery—Fall of Kaffa and Otranto—Death of Mahomet the Great 64
CHAPTER V.
Bajazet and Djem—Djem takes refuge at Rhodes—He proceeds to
France, and thence to Italy—Exculpation of D’Aubusson—His last
days and death—Conquests of Selim, and accession of Solyman
the Magnificent—Fall of Belgrade—Election of L’Isle Adam, and
his correspondence with the sultan—Preparations for a fresh
siege—Review of the Knights—Appearance of Rhodes—Character of
L’Isle Adam—Ceremony at St. John’s—Military spectacle—Arrival
of the enemy’s fleet 86
CHAPTER VI.
Ill success of the Turkish troops—Arrival of the sultan—The
English bastion blown up—Conduct of the grand master—Fresh
assault under Peri Pasha—Panic produced by the appearance of
L’Isle Adam—Attack on the ruins of the English bastion by
Mustapha Pasha—Assault-general—Retreat of the infidels—Renewed
hostilities—State of Rhodes during the last month of the
siege—Solyman has recourse to negotiation—The grand master is
compelled to yield by the entreaties of the citizens—Honourable
terms of capitulation—Interview between L’Isle Adam and the
sultan—Cruelties of the Janizaries—Generous conduct of the sultan
Solyman 108
CHAPTER VII.
Departure from Rhodes—Danger at sea—Rendezvous at
Setia—Deplorable state of the Rhodians—Inspection of his
followers by the grand master—His arrival with the Rhodians
at Messina—Inquiry into the conduct of the Knights, and their
acquittal—They proceed to Cività Vecchia, and are granted
the city of Viterbo—Journeys of L’Isle Adam to the courts of
Europe—Offer of Malta to the Order by the emperor—Report of the
commissioners 124
CHAPTER VIII.
Exploits of the Knights in Africa—Taking of Tunis—The great
carrack—Expedition against Algiers—Tempest off the coast of
Barbary—Taking of Mehdijé—Admirable charity of the Knights—Dragut
attacks Malta; failure of the expedition—Fall of Tripoli—Election
of John de la Valette—Solyman prepares for the siege of
Malta—Description of the city and its defences—Character of La
Valette, and his address to his troops 140
CHAPTER IX.
Arrival of the Turkish fleet—The landing and attack on St.
Elmo—Storming of the ravelin; Christian bearing of the
Knights—Message to the borgo, and reply of La Valette—First
assault-general—The Turks are repulsed, and the garrison
reinforced—Second and third assaults—Preparation of the Knights
for death—Capture of St Elmo, and barbarities of the Turkish
general 155
CHAPTER X.
St John’s day—Arrival of the “little succour”—Assaults on St.
Michael—Death of the grand master’s nephew—Assaults from the 2d
to the 16th of August—Attack on the bastion of Castile—Conduct
of La Valette—His visit to the infirmary—Repulse of the
Turks—Appearance of the succours—Hasty embarkation of the
Turks—Fresh landing, and engagement with the Christian army—They
leave the island—State of Malta after the siege—Building of the
city of Valetta—Death of the grand master—Conclusion 172
THE BATTLE OF LEPANTO.
Religious state of Europe—Fall of Cyprus—Bragadino—Calepius—The
Christian league and armament—Rendezvous at Messina—Don John
of Austria, his character and conduct—Meeting of the hostile
fleets—Disposition of the ships—The battle—The Knights of
Malta—Cervantes—Utter defeat of the infidels—Magnanimity of Don
John—Results of the victory—Revelation made to St. Pius—The joy
of Christendom, and commemorations of the Church 199
THE RELIEF OF VIENNA.
CHAPTER I.
THE SIEGE.
State of the city—Situation of the Empire—Rapid advance
of the Turks—The massacre of Perchtoldsdorf—The Turkish
camp—Kollonitsch—View without the walls—Ditto within—Progress
of the siege—The camp of Crems—Desperate condition of the
citizens—The signal-rockets 239
CHAPTER II.
THE RELIEF.
March of the Poles—Junction with the Imperialists—Ascent of the
Kahlenberg—A day of suspense—Scene from the heights—The morning
of the battle—Descent into the plain—Advance of Sobieski—Rout
of the Turks—Sobieski’s entry into Vienna—Charity of
Kollonitsch—Behaviour of the emperor—Joy of Europe—Thanksgiving
of the Church 261
THE KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN.
CHAPTER I.
Commencement of the Order—The object of its institution—Its
achievements in the Holy Land—Its settlement in Acre after the
fall of Jerusalem—Description of Acre—The great Hospital and its
traditions—Successes of the Saracens—Siege of Acre under Melec
Seraf sultan of Egypt—The last assault—Massacre—The survivors of
the Order take refuge in Cyprus.
The order of the Knights Hospitallers of St. John[2] dates its
origin from that heroic period of Christian chivalry when Jerusalem
opened her gates to the arms of Godfrey de Bouillon. Whether or no
its mixed military and religious character were coeval with its
first establishment, or whether its singular constitution came to be
gradually developed, as it was added to by successive masters, is
a point of little consequence for us to decide. It is certain that
at a very early period after its foundation it is to be found with
both these characters united; and whilst the Hospital of St. John
exercised that admirable charity which was the first condition of
the order’s existence, the knights were winning on every field of
Palestine the title bestowed on them by their Moslem enemies of the
“heroes of the Christian armies.”
It is not our present purpose to set before the reader any account
of those achievements of the order in the Holy Land, which properly
belong to the wars of the Crusades, and cannot be separated from the
history of that period: but, before taking up the narrative from
the day when, driven from the walls of Acre, the shattered remnant
of its heroic legions was tossing in a single bark on the waters
of the Levant, as yet without a home in Europe,—a few remarks seem
necessary, both to explain its constitution as a religious body, and
its position at the moment when our story of its fortunes begins.
At the period when the military orders first sprang into existence,
the road to the Holy Land was, as every one knows, the highway
of Europe; and year by year crowds of pilgrims of all ranks came
flocking to the Holy City, encountering innumerable perils on the
way, and often arriving at their journey’s end in a state of extreme
suffering and destitution. Now the object of the Order of St. John
may very briefly be described if we say, that its members took on
themselves the office of administering the hospitality of Christ:
“Servants of the poor of Christ” was the title that they assumed;
and this name of Christ’s poor was applied indiscriminately to all
pilgrims and crusaders.
The ceremonies attendant on the reception of a knight had a peculiar
significance, and strikingly illustrate the spirit of the order.
The postulant presented himself with a lighted taper in his hand,
and carrying his naked sword to be blessed by the priest. He had
previously prepared himself by a general confession and the reception
of holy communion. After blessing the sword, the priest returned it
to him with these words: “Receive this holy sword in the name of the
Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, amen; and use it for
thy own defence, and that of the Church of God, to the confusion of
the enemies of Jesus Christ and of the Christian faith, and take
heed that no human frailty move thee to strike any man with it
unjustly.” Then he replaced it in the sheath, the priest saying as
he girded himself: “Gird thyself with the sword of Jesus Christ;
and remember that it is not with the sword, but with faith, that the
saints have conquered kingdoms.” The knight then once more drew his
sword, whilst these words were addressed to him: “Let the brilliancy
of this sword represent to thee the brightness of faith; let its
point signify hope, and its hilt charity. Use it for the Catholic
faith, for justice, and for the consolation of widows and orphans:
for this is the true faith and justification of a Christian knight.”
Then he brandished it thrice in the name of the Holy Trinity, and
the brethren proceeded to give him his golden spurs, saying: “Seest
thou these spurs? They signify that as the horse fears them when he
swerves from his duty, so shouldst thou fear to depart from thy post
or from thy vows.” Then the mantle was thrown over him, and as they
pointed to the cross of eight points embroidered on the left side,
they said: “We wear this white cross as a sign of purity; wear it
also within thy heart as well as outwardly, and keep it without soil
or stain. The eight points are the signs of the eight beatitudes,
which thou must ever preserve: viz. 1. spiritual joy; 2. to live
without malice; 3. to weep over thy sins; 4. to humble thyself to
those who injure thee; 5. to love justice; 6. to be merciful; 7. to
be sincere and pure of heart; and 8. to suffer persecution.” Then he
kissed the cross, and the mantle was fastened, whilst the ministering
knight continued, “Take this cross and mantle in the name of the Holy
Trinity, for the repose and salvation of thy soul, the defence of the
Catholic faith, and the honour of our Lord Jesus Christ; and I place
it on the left side near thy heart, that thou mayst love it, and that
thy right hand may defend it, charging thee never to abandon it,
since it is the standard of our holy faith. Shouldst thou ever desert
the standard, and fly when combating the enemies of Jesus Christ,
thou wilt be stripped of this holy sign, according to the statutes of
the order, as having broken the vow thou hast taken, and shalt be cut
off from our body as an unsound member.”
On the mantle were embroidered all the instruments of the Passion;
each of them was pointed out to the new-made knight, with the words:
“In order that thou mayst put all thy hope in the passion of Jesus
Christ, behold the cord whereby He was bound; see, too, His crown of
thorns; this is the column to which He was tied; this is the lance
which pierced His side; this is the sponge with which He was drenched
with gall; these are the whips that scourged Him; and this the cross
on which He suffered. Receive, therefore, the yoke of the Lord, for
it is easy and light, and will give rest to thy soul; and I tie this
cord about thy neck in pledge of the servitude thou hast promised. We
offer thee nothing but bread and water, a simple habit and of little
worth. We give thee and thy parents and relatives a share in the good
works performed by the order, and by our brethren now and hereafter,
throughout the whole world. Amen.” He was then received to the kiss
of peace.
We find no mention of serving the sick in the formula of the vow, but
the obligation of hospitality was indispensable. The grand master
even took the title of the “guardian of the poor of Christ,” and the
knights were wont (according to Michaud) to call the poor and sick
“our masters.” We find various notices of their even undertaking the
charge of deserted children,—a charge which seems to speak volumes
for the loving tenderness of these soldiers of the faith. The
succour of the sick formed, therefore, but one portion of the duties
embraced by their rule under the name of hospitality; these guests
of Christ had to be protected on their journey, as well as guarded
and entertained on their arrival; and thus the military defence of
the Holy City itself came naturally to be first among the acts of
hospitality to which the order devoted itself, and which included at
the same time the tending of the sick, the care of orphan children,
the entertainment of strangers, the ransom of captives, and the daily
clothing and support of the vast multitudes whom every day brought
to the gates of their “Xenodochia,” as the large hospital of the
order was styled.
A chronicler, writing in the year 1150, and describing what he had
himself seen in his youth, says, that you might behold all these
offices of charity going on at the same time: the knights mounting
their horses to ride out to battle; the pilgrims crowding to the
halls of the hospital; and the infirmary full of sick and wounded
Christians, who were served and tended with the utmost care. The
necessary expenses of so vast an undertaking readily account for the
large endowments granted to the order in every Christian country;
their and revenues were not held as furnishing the means of luxury
to themselves, but were the funds ungrudgingly contributed by
Christendom for the support of her pilgrims, and the defence of the
sepulchre of her Lord; and thus the knights were made the holders and
administrators of a mighty trust of charity.
To carry out the full design of their foundation, they extended
their views far beyond the territory of Jerusalem; hospitals were
founded in all the principal maritime states of Europe, which were
considered as affiliated to the mother-house, where pilgrims were
received and helped forward on their journey, and furnished with
escorts and protection in times of danger. These houses afterwards
became the commanderies of the order, and had, of course, their own
communities of knights; for all did not reside at the principal seat
of government, though, as we shall afterwards find, they were liable
to be summoned thither at any moment, either to assist at elections,
or to reinforce the troops actually engaged in war.
In these hospitals the knights led a strict community life, much of
their time being given to active works of charity; a circumstance
to which is doubtless owing the superiority which the order of St.
John always preserved over that of the Templars as a religious body;
for by their peculiar constitution, the military spirit could never
become exclusive among them, but was always tempered and restrained
by their obligation to the duties of Christian hospitality.
St. Bernard, in his “Exhortation to the Knights of the Temple,” has
left us a picture of a military religious order, whose original was
doubtless in part taken from the houses of the Hospitallers, who
preceded the Templars by some years in their foundation. “They live,”
he says, “in a happy yet frugal manner, having neither wives nor
children; and calling nothing their own—not even their own wills:
they are never idle; but when not actually marching to the field
against the infidels, they mend their arms or the harness of their
horses, or engage in various pious exercises under the orders of
their chief. Never does an insolent word, or the least murmur, or
immoderate laughter, pass without severe correction. They detest all
games of chance, and never engage in the chase, or in useless visits;
they avoid with horror shows and buffoonery, together with songs
and conversation of a light or dangerous character; they are little
studious of their dress; their faces are brown with exposure to the
sun, and their aspect is stern and severe. When the hour of combat
approaches, they arm themselves with faith within and with steel
without,—no useless ornament glitters on their armour or that of
their horses; their arms are their only decoration, and they use them
valiantly in the greatest dangers, without fearing either the numbers
or the strength of the barbarians, for their confidence is in the God
of Armies; and in fighting for His cause they seek either certain
victory or a holy and honourable death.”
The various duties of the order were not all discharged by the same
members of the community. Their body was divided into three classes:
the knights, always of noble birth, in whom the government of the
order was vested; the clergy, or chaplains of St. John, whose duties
were purely ecclesiastical, and who also acted as almoners; and the
brothers servants-at-arms, a large and very important class, who
assisted the knights both in war and in the hospitals, and may be
considered as something between squires and lay brothers,—for they
did not act in a menial capacity, and though never eligible to the
rank of knights, they were treated almost on an equality, and had
votes for the election of master. All these classes were bound by
the three essential vows of religion; but, although _religious_, the
knights never bore the priestly character, as has been sometimes
represented. Many instances, however, occur of ecclesiastics having
previously seen military service as knights of the order before
assuming the sacerdotal character. Even the military powers of the
knights themselves had their limitations: they were bound to a strict
neutrality in all wars among Christian nations, and could take arms
only in defence of religion, and against its enemies; when not so
engaged, they were to devote themselves to the care of the sick and
poor: and this neutrality was not only the rule, but the invariable
practice of the order, as their history amply testifies.
So long as the Holy City remained in the hands of the Christians,
it continued to be the principal residence of the Knights of St.
John of Jerusalem; and their large hospital, able to contain above
2000 guests, lay exactly opposite the Holy Sepulchre. It is of
this hospital that Innocent II. speaks in words which so perfectly
describe the character of the institute that we will insert them,
as the best means of conveying a notion to the reader of the design
of its foundation, and the manner of its fulfilment. “How pleasing
to God,” he says, “and how venerable to man, is at least one spot
on earth! How commodious, how useful a refuge is that which the
Hospitallers’ house of hospitality in Jerusalem affords to all poor
pilgrims who face the various dangers by land and sea, with the pious
and devout wish to visit the Sacred City and our Lord’s sepulchre,
as is well known to the whole universe! There, indeed, are the
indigent assisted, and every sort of humane attention is shown to the
weak fatigued by their numerous labours and dangers. There they are
refreshed and recover their strength, so that they are enabled to
visit the sacred places which have been sanctified by our Saviour’s
corporeal presence. Nor do the brethren of that house hesitate to
expose their lives for their brothers in Jesus Christ; but with
infantry and cavalry, kept for that special purpose, and supported
by their own money, they defend the faithful fearlessly from the
Paynims, both in going and returning. It is these Hospitallers who
are the instruments by which the Omnipotent preserves His Church in
the East from the defilements of the infidels.” This was written in
1130: the following year witnessed the death of Baldwin II., and was
succeeded by sorrowful times for Palestine. Those who came after
him, and bore in turn the title of kings of Jerusalem, were but
little fitted for the kingdom whose sceptre was a sword. Under Guy
of Lusignan the cause of the Crusaders became well-nigh desperate;
and on the fatal field of Tiberias, after a combat which lasted three
days, the flower of the Christian army was cut to pieces, and the
king himself was taken prisoner. When he recovered his freedom, it
was to mourn over a yet greater disaster; for Jerusalem itself had
fallen (A.D. 1187), and, eighty-eight years after the triumphant
entry of Godfrey de Bouillon, was once more in the hands of the
Moslems. The news of that event, which is said to have caused the
death of the reigning Pope, immediately roused the sovereigns of
Europe to prepare for a fresh crusade. Nevertheless it was marked by
one circumstance equally honourable to the Christians and to their
enemies. Saladin, we are told, was so touched by the reports brought
him of the charity exercised at the hospital of St. John, that he
gave permission for the Hospitallers to remain in the city one year
undisturbed, that the sick and wounded under their charge might be
perfectly restored before removal. In 1191 the forces of France and
England were united before the walls of Acre; and the third crusade
may be said to have opened by the capitulation of that city, when it
fell into the hands of Richard Cœur de Lion. The Hospitallers were
foremost in the glorious campaign that followed. It lasted little
more than a year; but when the English monarch again embarked for
Europe he showed his gratitude and esteem for the Order of St. John
by bestowing on them the city of Acre as a free donation; and thus
the knights came for the first time to have a fixed residence and
sovereignty, and gave their name to the city, which has ever since
been known as St. Jean d’Acre. It is here, then, that our narrative
finds them, the sovereigns of a city which in all ages seems destined
to be the battle-field for East and West, and which in its very
aspect appears to claim for itself the right never to sink into
insignificance.
Beautiful as it is, even in our own day, it was yet more beautiful
when, seven centuries ago, it was the Christian capital of the East.
Its snow-white palaces sparkled like jewels against the dark woods
of Carmel which rose towards the south. To the east there stretched
away the glorious plain, over which the eye might wander till it lost
itself in the blue outlines of hills on which no Christian eye could
gaze unmoved; for they hid in their bosom the village of Nazareth and
the waters of Tiberias, and had been trodden all about by the feet
of One whose touch had made them holy ground. That rich and fertile
plain, now marshy and deserted, but then a very labyrinth of fields
and vineyards, circled Acre also to the north; but there the eye was
met by a new boundary,—the snowy summits of a lofty mountain range
whose bases were clothed with cedar; while all along the lovely
coast broke the blue waves of that mighty sea whose shores are the
empires of the world. And there lay Acre among her gardens; the long
rows of her marble houses, with their flat roofs, forming terraces
odorous with orange-trees, and rich with flowers of a thousand hues,
which silken awnings shaded from the sun. You might walk from one
end of the city to the other on these terraced roofs, and never once
descend into the streets; and the streets themselves were Wide and
airy, their shops brilliant with the choicest merchandise of the
East, and thronged with the noblest chivalry of Europe. It was the
gayest, gallantest city in existence; its gilded steeples stood out
against the mountains, or above the horizon of those bright waters
that tossed and sparkled in the flood of southern sunshine, and in
the fresh breeze that kissed them from the west; every house was rich
with painted glass,—for this art, as yet rare in Europe, is spoken of
by all writers as lavishly employed in Acre, and was perhaps first
brought from thence by the Crusaders; every nation had its street,
inhabited by its own merchants and nobles, and no less than twenty
crowned heads kept up within the city-walls their palaces and courts.
The emperor of Germany, and the kings of England, France, Sicily,
Spain, Portugal, Denmark, and Jerusalem, had each their residence
there; while the Templars and the Teutonic order had establishments
as well as the Hospitallers, and on a scarcely less sumptuous scale.
But it was the great Xenodochia of the latter which was the glory
of the place; it rivalled in size, and in the magnificence of its
arrangements, the first hospital of Jerusalem; and with a grand and
noble magnanimity, not only Christians, but Moslems and Saracens were
received within its walls. Its fame became poetical, and it had its
legends. Saladin, it is said, hearing of the surprising things done
in the hospital of Acre, came in the disguise of a poor man, and
feigning sickness, was entertained with a marvellous hospitality:
“For,” says the French chronicler, “the infirmarian came to him, and
asked him what he would eat; but he answered, ‘The only thing I can
eat, and do intensely desire, it were madness even to name.’ ‘Do
not hesitate in the least, dear brother,’ replied the infirmarian;
‘for a sick man here is given whatsoever he fancies, if gold can
buy it; ask, therefore, for what you will, and you shall have it.’
‘It is the foot of Moriel, the grand master’s horse,’ answered the
pretended invalid; ‘they say he will not take a thousand bezants
for him; nevertheless, if that be not cut off in my presence, I can
never eat a morsel more.’ So the infirmarian went and told all to
the master, and he marvelled greatly. ‘Well, since it be so, take
my horse,’ he said; ‘better that all my horses were dead than a
man.’ So the horse was led to the side of the sick man’s bed, and
the groom armed himself with a hatchet, and prepared to strike off
the fore-foot of the beautiful and noble steed. ‘Hold now,’ cried
Saladin, ‘for I am satisfied, and will be content with mutton.’ Then
Moriel was loosed again, and led back to his stable, and the grand
master and his brethren were right glad thereof. So, when the soldan
had eaten and drunk, he arose and returned to his country, and sent
thence a charter sealed with his own seal, which ran as follows: ‘Let
all men know that I, Saladin, soldan of Babylon, give and bequeath
to the hospital of Acre a thousand bezants of gold, to be paid every
year, in peace or war, unto the grand master, be he who he may, in
gratitude for the wonderful charity of himself and of his order.’”
We have called this a legendary tale; but though, indeed, it reads
more like fable than reality, it would not be out of harmony with the
romantic and adventurous spirit of its hero, and might be truth, but
that the death of the great soldan occurred in the very year when the
Christians took possession of Acre. Nevertheless it may instance the
kind of reputation enjoyed at that time by the Hospitallers of St.
John.
The term of their residence in Acre was scarce a hundred years;—a
period marked by the Latin conquest of Constantinople, and several
fresh crusades, one of which brought St. Louis to the port of Acre
after his gallant army had been destroyed in Egypt. This was in
1254. A few years later, and the last crusading prince who ever
left the shores of Europe came thither in the person of Edward I.
of England; and there, in 1271, befell the romantic incident of
his attempted assassination, and the heroic devotion of his wife
Eleanor. Meanwhile, in spite of every effort, Palestine was being
lost to the Christian arms; one by one, every town and castle fell
into the hands of the infidels, and the Christians of Syria were
driven to take refuge behind the forts of Acre, almost the last
citadel whereon the banner of the Cross still waved untouched. Its
day, however, was coming, and each new conquest of Kelaoun, the new
sultan of the Saracens, drew the circle of its enemies closer and
closer round its walls. Marcab fell, then Tripoli, which had been
Christian near two hundred years; and the advancing steps of the
victors were marked at each successive triumph by enormities and
crimes, the recital of which could create only horror and disgust.
Acre knew herself doomed; but in vain did she look to Europe for help
in her extremity; the crusading spirit was extinct; and De Lorgue,
the grand master of the Hospitallers, after a fruitless journey to
the courts of Europe, returned to die of a broken heart in his own
city, whose catastrophe he saw was not far distant. It was hastened
by a breach of truce committed by some of the garrison; but ere
it came, Sir John de Villiers, the new grand master, addressed a
circular to all the knights of the order, summoning them to Acre to
join him in its defence; and he himself set out on a fresh embassy,
which proved as useless as his predecessor’s. He, too, returned
disconsolate and alone; and before those whom he had addressed could
come to his assistance, Melec Seraf, the son of Kelaoun, was encamped
beneath the walls of the devoted city (A.D. 1291). The resources of
the Christians were very small: not much above two hundred of the
knights of St. John, and about as many of the Templars, were to be
found in the garrison; for most of the members of both orders had
fallen at Tripoli, and the reinforcements from Europe had not yet
arrived. There were mercenary troops of all nations, but the entire
force under arms amounted to no more than 12,000 men; for, large as
was the population of Acre, it was mostly of the mercantile class.
Of the troops, 500 were from Cyprus, brought thence by Henry, who
bore the empty title of king of Jerusalem; but the succour was small
in point of numbers, and for fidelity scarcely to be depended upon,
and the king’s reputation for courage was none of the highest. The
port of Acre, it must be remembered, was still open, which enabled
the greater part of the inhabitants to embark with their families
and effects, and take flight before the siege began: of those
that remained, many were engaged in the defence; but faction and
disunion sadly weakened their ranks, and the Hospitallers, though
nominally masters of the city, had little power to maintain order
and discipline among the various nations and parties that made up
its population. By common consent, Peter de Beaujeu, grand master of
the Templars, was elected governor of the city; and whatever may be
said of the jealousies of the two orders, it is certain that the most
perfect union existed between them during the whole of this memorable
siege.
The sultan Kelaoun had expired at Cairo whilst actively preparing to
set out for Acre. Before his death he exacted a solemn promise from
his son never to celebrate his funeral until he should have taken
the Christian city, and put all its inhabitants to the sword. Melec
Seraf took the oath with right good will, and sent a host of sappers
and miners before him to prepare the ground; and every day during the
long month of March the Christians had watched the ground from Carmel
to the sea-shore broken up by new intrenchments, and the camp filling
with the reinforcements that were constantly coming in, not from
Egypt alone, but from Arabia and the provinces of the Euphrates, till
the vast plain glittered with the multitudes that covered it; their
golden targets and polished lance-points resembling (says Michaud)
“the shining stars on a serene night; and on the hosts’ advancing, it
was like a forest for the multitude of the lances held aloft:” and
well it might be, for they were more than 400,000 fighting men, and
they covered the entire plain. A little before sunset, the sultan
rode out, surrounded by his officers, to survey his thirty miles of
intrenchments filled with troops whose arms had as yet been found
irresistible; and when he compared his host of combatants with the
contemptible size of the city, the weakness of whose defenders was
well known to him, it seemed to him that the very idea of resistance
was somewhat laughable, and he gave orders for a peremptory summons
to surrender; but there was neither answer nor movement on the part
of the Christians, and the night passed in silence on both sides. The
rosy dawn was streaking the sky just above those low hills that rose
dark against the eastern horizon, when the silence was broken by a
hideous crash. The smoke and dust cleared away, and you might see a
mass of crumbling ruins where but a moment before rose the stately
ramparts of the city. Then a loud cry from the ranks of the Saracens,
a pell-mell charge towards the spot, and a pause as they reached the
verge of a wide, deep ditch which a curve in the ground till then had
concealed from view. There was a bloody struggle on its edge; and
the infidels were forced to retire, leaving five thousand corpses on
the ruined breach. But what were five thousand men to such a host
as theirs? Such a repulse hardly seemed a check; and the word sped
rapidly through the ranks of the cavalry to charge and force their
way to the foot of the breach, which was manned by the Christians,
and defended by several large instruments of war. So the horsemen
came on at a gallop; and even the besieged gazed on the gallant
sight with admiration as they beheld that line of warriors sweeping
forwards on their Arab chargers, their arms and cuirasses, and even
the harness of their horses, glittering in gold; for they were the
flower of the sultan’s troops. But their gallantry was powerless to
carry them over that yawning terrible abyss—not a blow could they
level at their adversaries; whilst a shower of stones and arrows from
the engines on the walls rolled horses and riders in the dust by
scores. For five days were these scenes renewed, and always with the
same result; cavalry and infantry never flinching from the orders of
the sultan, which sent them to certain destruction, but continuing to
rush on with a desperate courage, only to be driven back upon their
ranks, leaving half their numbers dead upon the field.
The sultan was greatly enraged at his repeated failures; but
satisfied at length that the city was not yet to be carried by
assault, he yielded to the persuasions of his emirs, and commanded
the ditch to be filled up. This was a work of time; for, first it
had to be drained of the water, and then huge camel-loads of earth
and stone were thrown into it by thousands; and still, as day after
day went on, it scarcely seemed to fill, and the month of April
passed without his finding himself a step nearer to the end of his
toil. He became impatient, and without waiting for the work to be
finished, gave fresh orders for the assault. The ditch was but half
filled; and when the first line of the Saracens rushed to the edge,
they were once more obliged to fall back in confusion, baffled
and unable to cross, for it was still a full yard deep, and the
horses refused to enter. Then followed a scene, which perhaps has
never had its equal in the chronicles of war or of fanaticism; yet,
strange and incredible as the facts may seem, they are related by
all historians—some being the eye-witnesses of what they describe.
There was among the sultan’s troops a body of men known by the name
of Chages, a kind of new sect among the Moslems, who surpassed all
their comrades in their terrible and bloody devotion to the cause of
Islam. To them Melec Seraf now turned: “You who call yourselves the
chosen of the Prophet,” he cried, “show now your faith by deeds, and
throw yourselves into yonder ditch as a bridge for the mamelukes.”
Without a moment’s hesitation the Chages obeyed the call, and with a
mad enthusiasm flung themselves into the chasm by hundreds, while the
others urged their horses over the quivering bridge of human bodies.
To us it seems a strange idea to storm a breach with cavalry; but
the Saracen and his horse were rarely parted, and many succeeded in
clambering with their chargers up the ruined wall only to find their
labour useless, for a new one had risen behind the old, strongly and
skilfully erected, and defended by the Hospitallers themselves, with
their marshal, Claremont, at their head. But though the horsemen were
easily driven back, the miners of the sultan soon found their way to
the foundation of the new defence: down it came, and with it many a
tower and battlement beside; among them was the principal fortress of
the city, which the infidels were wont to call “the Cursed Tower,”
from the mischief their men received beneath its walls. One assault
now followed close upon another, and just when pressed the hardest,
the Christians were deserted by their Cypriot allies. King Henry had
had to sustain the shock of one day’s assault, and that was enough
for him; under pretext that his men required repose, he got the
Teutonic knights to take his post during the night, promising again
to relieve them when morning dawned. But that dawn only showed the
sails of his vessels sinking in the horizon; he had taken advantage
of the night to embark unperceived, and was far on his way to Cyprus
when the battle recommenced. That day the Saracens were well-nigh
in possession of the town; for in one of their furious charges at
the breach, they not only carried it with the slaughter of all its
defenders, but penetrated to the very heart of the town. There was
hard fighting hand to hand in the crowded streets, and the combat
lasted two entire days, until at length Claremont, at the head of a
handful of knights, drove the intruders back again to their trenches;
whilst some of them were seen to seize their antagonists in their
brawny arms and hurl them headlong over the battlements. One of these
men, a Norman of prodigious size, leapt from his horse and threw
three of the Saracens over one after another, like so many dogs; but
as he was struggling with a fourth, a stone from a war-engine struck
him to the ground.
Another attack;—this time, however, in a different direction:
the great gate of St. Anthony was assaulted by a picked corps of
mamelukes; but there, too, they were met by the Hospitallers and the
Templars, with the two grand masters at their head. These brave
men seemed to be in all parts of the town at one and the same time,
and their presence animated their followers to prodigies of valour.
Alas! their valour availed but little, and at most could but gain a
brief delay; fresh enemies swarmed in the place of those who fell,
while every loss on the part of the Christians was irreparable, and
their numbers were reduced to a scanty handful. Sir John de Villiers
was already badly wounded, when the master of the Templars thus
addressed him: “The town is lost, as things now stand,” he said;
“you must try a sortie that will draw them off awhile, and give us
time to complete some fresh defences.” Villiers, wounded as he was,
did his best to carry out this order, and gathering together all his
men who were yet able to mount, he rode out to the enemy’s camp, his
whole body not consisting of above 500 in number. Bravely did the
little company fall on the Saracen host, which they thought to take
by surprise; but they were met by all the cavalry of the sultan,
and after a desperate struggle, re-entered the town with half their
number missing. Bad news, too, met them on their return; Beaujeu had
been struck, as it was feared, by a poisoned arrow, and half the town
was already in possession of the enemy; with daylight they could look
for nothing but one last death-struggle, and the loss of all; and
a council of the surviving knights of the three orders was hastily
summoned, together with certain of the citizens and the gallant old
patriarch of Jerusalem, who, though he might long since have secured
his safety by flight, had chosen to remain to encourage his children
by his presence. There was indeed little to debate, for all were of
one mind; they knew well enough that they had only to choose between
death and flight,—but of the last they never thought; the port was
indeed open, and there was yet time; but Acre was all Palestine to
its defenders, and each one felt that to die on its battlements
was to die in the cause of Christ. For such a death they therefore
prepared as became the cross they wore; the holy sacrifice was
offered, and each one received what to far the greater number was the
last viaticum; they gave the kiss of peace each one to his neighbour,
old grudges were made up where any existed, and those who had lived
in jealousy or enmity shook one another by the hand, and swore to
stand together and die as friends.
It is said that Beaujeu, before the last combat began, forced his
way to the sultan’s tent to propose conditions of truce; which might
have been accepted but for the unwillingness shown by the renegades
in the Saracen army to listen to terms of peace. Whether or no this
be true, the attempt was certainly of no avail; for it was still
night when the Moslems broke into the city by the great gate of St.
Anthony, their way lighted up by the terrible gleam of the Greek
fire, and a frightful carnage followed in the streets. Beaujeu fell
in the front of the defenders, and Claremont too, the gallant marshal
of the Hospitallers, was cut to pieces by a thousand blows. The day
broke cold and gloomy over the city, which was the scene, not of one,
but of innumerable combats. Every house was defended and stormed;
every square was a rallying post and a battle-ground; the streets
were piled high with dead and dying, and were slippery with blood.
At length it was all over: a rush towards the port carried soldiers
and populace together in one dense and crowded mass, pursued and
massacred by the mamelukes, as they swept along treading one another
under in the crush. Of all that multitude, not half ever reached
the vessels; for the Saracens were amongst them, slaughtering them
as they stood, the Greek fire fell thick over the shipping, and
the crowded boats that left the shore were burnt or sunk before
they reached the vessels’ sides. Sixty thousand Christians fell, it
is said, in that short but horrible massacre. A whole convent of
nuns of the order of St. Clare, to save themselves from the brutal
violence of the conquerors, following the example of their courageous
superior, mutilated their features in the most frightful manner;
so that the Pagan soldiery no sooner beheld these spouses of Christ
all bleeding and ghastly, than, seized with disgust and fury, they
fell upon them and slaughtered them without mercy.[3] As to the
Hospitallers, there were but six left alive, and these made a gallant
retreat under cover of a shower of arrows, and gained the karrack, or
galley of the order, in which they made their way towards Cyprus. The
Templars finding it impossible to cut their way through the masses
of their enemies, threw themselves into a tower, and held it for
some days against all assaults. It was the last struggle of despair:
the tower was soon mined, and scaled by thousands of the Saracens;
but as they crowded to the ladders, the walls gave way, and falling
with a hideous crash, buried Christians and Moslems in their ruins.
It is said that ten Templars escaped previous to the catastrophe,
and found their way to Cyprus; but all that remained in the city,
whether soldiers or citizens, were put to the sword; and for days the
slaughter lasted, till there were none left to be slain.
The fall of Acre was quickly followed by that of Tyre, and all the
smaller towns along the Syrian coast. Nicopolis held out for two
years longer, thanks to a little garrison of Hospitallers; but at
length an earthquake accomplished what the Saracen arms could not
effect, and city and garrison were buried under one heap of ruins.
Thus the Cross was overthrown for ever in Syria; and the order that
was created for its defence was compelled to seek another home.