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.
The repulse of the infidels from the walls of Rhodes raised the
order and its grand master to even a higher reputation than they had
yet enjoyed. The name of D’Aubusson and his gallant knights rang
through Europe, and excited an enthusiasm of admiration; and singular
incidents followed on the death of Mahomet II. which served to
extend the esteem and influence of the order even among the infidels
themselves.
Mahomet left two sons, Bajazet and Djem;[17] the first a mild and
pacific prince, the other generous and warlike, and no mean scholar
for his age and nation. Hardly was Bajazet on the throne, when he
made proposals of peace to Rhodes. D’Aubusson, unwilling to accede
thereto on his own authority, sent, like a dutiful son of the Church,
to consult the Holy See. But ere an answer came, a strange thing
happened. A struggle for the imperial power between the partisans
of the rival princes ended in the defeat and flight of Djem; and as
the fate of a fallen prince, whose arms had been turned against his
successful competitor, could be small matter of doubt, according to
the ordinary policy of the Ottoman court, Djem, now a friendless
fugitive, knew that his life was not worth an hour’s purchase
should he fall into his brother’s hands. Whither should he go, or
where apply for refuge? His decision was a singular one: something
perhaps in his own frank and generous nature had endeared the name
of D’Aubusson to his imagination; certain it is that he felt a warm
and enthusiastic admiration for the heroic order which had defied
his father’s invincible arms, and it was to the hospitality and
magnanimity of the Knights of St. John that he resolved to trust his
fortunes.
Before his messengers could reach the capital of Rhodes, the position
of the unfortunate prince became still more desperate. Alone on the
coast of Lycia,—for he had sent his followers away, bidding them
seek their own safety,—a party of fifty mamelukes suddenly appeared
from behind a rock and attempted to seize him. Throwing himself
from his saddle, he leapt into the sea and struck out to a poor
fishing-boat that he knew to own a Christian for its master; for,
after the fashion of the times, it bore at its prow a rude wooden
cross, without which no fisherman of that day would have thought of
venturing to sea. The mamelukes, urging their steeds into the water,
were close behind him,—a price was on his head living or dead; but as
they almost touched their prize, the strong arm of the rowers lifted
him over the side, and a few strokes of the oar sufficed to place the
boat and its crew beyond the reach of the pursuers. Djem knew that
his only safety was now to remain among the Christians; and hastily
writing the following lines, he attached the letter to an arrow, and
shot it among the mamelukes on the shore.
“_King Djem to King Bajazet his inhuman brother._[18]
“God and the Prophet are witness of the unhappy necessity that
drives me to take refuge among the Christians. Not content with
depriving me of my just rights to the empire, you pursue me from
country to country, and to save my life you force me to seek refuge
among the Knights of Rhodes, the bitter enemies of our house. If
our father could have foreseen such a profanation of the Ottoman
name, he would have strangled you with his own hands; but Heaven
will not fail to avenge your cruelty, and I trust yet to live to be
witness of your punishment.”
Djem was received at Rhodes with the courtesy due to his rank, and
with all pomp and ceremony. A horse richly caparisoned was prepared
for him, and so mounted he passed through the streets thronged with
spectators, and strewn for the occasion with sprigs of myrtle and
odoriferous flowers, which, as they were pressed by his horse’s
hoofs, emitted a delicious fragrance. Splendid hangings every where
met his eye, and his ear was regaled with strains of martial music.
The grand master himself came forth to greet him, mounted also on a
noble steed, and followed by a brilliant train. It was a strange and
might have been an embarrassing meeting: on the one side, the head of
that great military order, whose very vocation it was to do battle
with the infidel; and on the other, the brother of the reigning
sultan, nay himself, in pretension, the very commander of the forces
of Islam; and that too within those walls which had so lately and so
successfully defied the Moslem arms. But it would seem that in the
whole matter the order acted but in accordance with their grand duty
of _hospitality_. To be the asylum of the destitute and oppressed was
so natural to them, that their gates opened to receive the fugitive
who claimed their protection, almost without a question of his faith;
for a Hospitaller to have refused to receive a guest would have been
a disgrace upon the name; and moreover the rules of chivalry exacted
the most scrupulous courtesy to enemies. The question, therefore,
of Djem’s reception was soon settled; and the treatment he received
during his forty days’ residence there was noble and princely, as
the unfortunate fugitive himself acknowledged in the manifesto he
drew up before leaving them, to place himself under the protection
of the French king. For, indeed, he felt Rhodes itself was too near
his brother’s court; secret assassins could easily be found to reach
him there; and so, with D’Aubusson’s consent, he departed, falling
at his feet and embracing them as he bade his generous entertainer
farewell, and vowing, were he ever restored to his rights, to observe
an inviolable friendship with the Order of St. John. In France he
met with but a cold reception, and retired to a priory of the order;
being supported partly by an appanage which the grand master obtained
from Bajazet for him by dint of skilful treaty, and partly by the
private liberality of D’Aubusson himself. So munificent, indeed, was
the grand master’s bounty, that the chapter general declared, after
an examination of the accounts, that he ought to be reimbursed out
of the treasury of the order the large sums he had expended on the
prince.[19]
This singular episode in the history of the order has been
represented by some as an artful stroke of policy on the part of
the grand master; though, indeed, it would be difficult to see what
he could gain by the open protection of Bajazet’s rival at the very
moment when terms of peace were being negotiated with that monarch.
As for any violation of safe-conduct, it does not appear how far such
stipulation, if stipulation there were, extended; and Taaffe is of
opinion that anyhow it was faithfully observed in according him a
safe and honourable reception at Rhodes, and freedom to depart when
he pleased. It seems incontestable, indeed, that in the terms of
pacification afterwards made with Bajazet, the strict guardianship
of Djem, so as to prevent his making further attempts against his
brother’s crown, formed one of the conditions; but it does not seem
unfitting, or in any way unworthy of D’Aubusson’s reputation, that,
whilst protecting the life of the fugitive prince, he should also
prevent him from forming new plots against the sultan, whose claims
to the sovereignty as elder brother could scarcely be disputed. Our
own history tells us how difficult a trust is the guardianship of a
fallen and a hostile prince: in the end it must ever take the form of
imprisonment; but that he was treated harshly or “like a prisoner,”
the author we have quoted above declares to be “ridiculously untrue.”
Reasons there were every way why he should be detained in honourable
ward, were it only to keep a curb on Bajazet, and to save Christendom
and the world from a renewal of the horrible atrocities of Turkish
warfare. Besides, Djem’s partisans were known to be the most virulent
of all the infidels in their hatred of Christians in general, and of
the Knights in particular; and had he been allowed to put himself at
their head, the greatest evils might have resulted to religion and
civilisation.
The unhappy prince is supposed to have died of poison in Italy,
whither by his own desire he had been removed from France. But the
affair, even on the confession of those who are strong as to the
fact, is involved in perhaps inextricable mystery; and indeed the
whole history of those times, and of the papal court in particular,
has been so overlaid with falsehood, that it is impossible, with all
the existing materials before us, and after a careful and impartial
collation of conflicting authorities, to arrive at any satisfactory
conclusion. But anyhow they who most blame the grand master and the
order for allowing the Turkish prince to pass out of their safe
keeping, never so much as hint at their participation in his death.
On the contrary, they say that the first step taken for carrying
out the design against his life was the removal of his faithful
Hospitallers. They describe the horror and indignation felt at
Rhodes when the unhappy news arrived; and declare that it was as a
death-blow to the grand master, who felt that such a catastrophe was
a blot on the honour of Christian hospitality, and deeply lamented
the loss of one whom in their short intimacy he had learnt to regard
with interest and even with affection.
However, were any exculpation of D’Aubusson and his order required,
it may be found in Djem’s own letter to the grand master, written
shortly before his death, wherein he deplores his separation from
the Knights, and assures them of his eternal gratitude; declaring,
by the way, that, except that he was deprived of his usual guard of
knights, which vexed him much and caused him infinite grief, he was
“honourably and sufficiently well treated.”[20]
D’Aubusson’s was a proud position during the three-and-twenty years
that his government lasted after the siege of Rhodes. The Pope
presented him with a cardinal’s hat; all nations were proud of him;
the emperor refused to declare war against the sultan without his
assent; and the English king, sending him a present of guns and
Irish horses, says courteously in his letter, “The guns are for the
defence of Rhodes, but the horses for the use of him whom I love
and reverence as my father.” When, towards the close of his life, a
new Christian league was formed against the infidel, including the
emperor, the republic of Venice, and the kings of France, Castile,
Portugal, and Hungary, with most of the Italian princes, a general
consent was given to the papal decree which named him generalissimo
of the Christian armies. But the result of this great league was like
most of those which preceded it. War between the European sovereigns
themselves soon broke it up, and each power made peace with the
Moslem on his own terms; so that the order was, as usual, left alone
and unsupported to carry on the war.
When the last sail of the French fleet disappeared from Lesbos,
the rendezvous of the Christian allies, D’Aubusson gave way to a
sadness not unusual to him, as to many a great mind besides, which,
with its eye fixed on its own lofty and noble views, ever meets
with littleness and disgusts in the world around. He felt there
was a stain on the honour of Christendom, and the chill of that
disappointment is said never to have left him. Still he would not
have abandoned all attempts to restrain the Ottoman power; and seeing
the siege of Lesbos to be impracticable, he would nevertheless have
made some strong and imposing demonstrations against Constantinople,
more, however, to maintain a continual and vigilant reconnoissance
than to provoke actual hostilities; and for this purpose he directed
himself to England. But in London also he met with “ice that would
not melt, seas and mountains that brought forth nothing.” He was
then in his seventy-eighth year, and seeing there were no hopes, as
things then stood, of effecting any thing for the Christian cause,
he returned to Rhodes, and spent the last two years of his life in
regulating the affairs of his people and of his order. The last
edicts which bore his authority were full of a religious spirit: they
were directed against blasphemy and public swearing, against luxury
in dress, and other abuses. The great captain never forgot that he
was also a religious; and none ever enforced religious discipline
among his subjects with more effectual severity.
His last hour was worthy of his name. Gathering his knights around
his bed, he bade them adhere to their rule; and after many holy
words spoken with a calm and sweet serenity, he closed his eyes, and
expired without a struggle. No prince or grand master was ever so
lamented. In the funeral procession (to adopt Taaffe’s description),
first went every religious corporation in Rhodes; next came the Greek
patriarch and all his clergy; then the Latin clergy of the order; a
little before the bier two hundred of the principal Rhodians clothed
in black, and bearing lighted torches in their hands; and following
them, the Knights, carrying their colours drooping, so as to sweep
the ground; the bier with the corpse borne on the shoulders of the
priors, and the grand crosses of the order; after which marched the
long troop of mourners, two hundred and fifty in number; and loud was
the weeping from the windows, streets, terraces, and roofs, and the
wailings and lamentations of the whole populace. Over his tomb was
broken his truncheon of command, together with his spurs; and so were
concluded all the doleful formalities with singular testimonies of
heart-felt grief. Never was son or parent more truly mourned than was
D’Aubusson by his knights and Rhodian subjects. They saw in him the
honour of chivalry, the father of the poor, the saviour of Rhodes,
the sword and buckler of Christendom; and his death was the signal
for hostilities which, during his life, had never been pursued by
Bajazet, who, strange to say, really loved and honoured the famous
grand master as much as he doubtless feared him as an adversary.
Bajazet had nothing of the ferocity or warlike genius of his race.
The civil war in which he found himself engaged on first coming to
the throne had obliged him to recall Ahmed Keduk from Otranto, which
was compelled after an obstinate defence to capitulate to the Duke
of Calabria. The infidels thus dispossessed of the only place they
held in Italy were happily never able to recover their footing on
its shores. His reign was chiefly signalised by great improvements
in the Turkish navy, and increasing power at sea. He carried on
frequent wars with the Venetians and Hungarians, and took the cities
of Lepanto, Coron, and Modon. The carnage at the last-named place was
immense; the inhabitants being put to the sword without regard to
sex or age; nearly all the nobles perished; and the bishop, Andrew
Falconi, was slain while in the act of exhorting the people to fight
for their faith and liberties. The conquerors set fire to the town
after its capture, and the conflagration lasted five whole days.
In resisting the encroachments of the Mameluke sultans of Egypt
Bajazet was less successful; the result of the contest being in his
adversary’s favour, who, at the peace that was concluded between
them, retained three strong places which he had seized and occupied.
On the whole, therefore, the Ottoman power may be considered to have
remained stationary during his reign; and had he been followed by
princes of no more energy, or no better success in war, the decline
of the Turkish empire might have dated from his accession, or at
any rate would have been anticipated many years. But the dynasty of
the sultans boasts a worthy representative in his son and successor
Selim. Seizing the reins of government, he commenced his rule by
becoming the murderer of his brothers and nephews, if not of his
father, and made great preparations for a second invasion of Rhodes.
On one occasion, indeed, his fleet, as it returned from Alexandria,
menaced the island, but withdrew after making hostile demonstrations.
His death, eight years after his accession, prevented the execution
of the design; but a glance at his conquests during that short period
may show how the circle of the Ottoman power was gathering closer
and closer round the devoted island: Egypt, Syria, and Arabia, were
now added to the Turkish dominions, which thus became nearly double
in extent; and the crescent ruled over every country of the East,
save the yet unconquered soil where waved the banner of the Knights
of the Cross. Selim may be regarded as the very impersonation of
the worst qualities of Mahometanism in general, and of the Turkish
character in particular. One instance of his fanaticism may suffice.
He had resolved on extirpating the very profession of Christianity
from his dominions; and to this end actually ordered the conversion
of all the churches into mosques, and the reception of the Koran by
all his Greek subjects, under pain of death. From this sanguinary
determination he was diverted only by the strong remonstrances of the
Greek patriarch, whose efforts were seconded by those of the grand
vizier and chief mufti. He reminded him of the solemn pledges given
by Mahomet on the capture of Constantinople, and appealed to the very
Koran itself against such wholesale slaughter and direct infraction
of treaties. Selim yielded thus far that he consented to tolerate the
practice of the Christian religion; but he would no longer allow some
of the finest buildings of the city to be devoted to its worship;
these he gave up to the Mussulmans, and directed structures of wood
to be erected in their stead. Thus was completed the degradation of
the once Christian metropolis of the East; and, except that their
religious assemblies were not forbidden, and their priests were not
proscribed, and the saying of Mass was not made a capital offence,
and there was no ruinous fine for non-attendance at the Moslem
service, the Greek subjects of the Porte were reduced to the same
condition as were the Catholics of England in the reign of Elizabeth.
The death of Selim (September 22, 1520) raised to the throne of
the Ottoman empire its greatest monarch, in the person of Solyman
the Magnificent, whose name is so familiar to the students of that
period of history which we might denominate “the age of Charles
V.” He succeeded to the vast power left him by his father at the
same time that Charles was elected to the imperial dignity: their
strength was well matched, and it may be said that, by a kind of
instinct, they felt themselves rivals from the moment of their
accession. But the policy and character of Solyman differed widely
from those of the princes who had preceded him in the government
of the East. The influence of European civilisation was gradually
making itself felt; and the Turks, learning something of refinement
from the nations whom they subjugated, were beginning to exhibit
some modification in that savage barbarism which had hitherto alone
distinguished them. Solyman’s government of his empire was conducted
on principles of justice and equity,—virtues unknown under rulers
whose only laws had been the cimeter or the bowstring; and the
increased intelligence of the Turkish administration, while it in
no wise softened the merciless character of its hostilities, added
in no small degree to its power, and consequently to the danger of
its Christian adversaries. Among various notes and memoranda left
by the Emperor Selim, pointing out with remarkable sagacity the
steps necessary to be taken for assuring the safety of his enormous
dominions, the possession of two places was named as essential for
the preservation of the empire:—they were Belgrade and Rhodes, both
which had successfully defied the arms of Mahomet. Solyman determined
on both enterprises; and preparations for the siege of Belgrade were
commenced in the very year of his accession.
This bulwark of Christendom was compelled to capitulate on the 29th
of August 1521. The Hungarians made a most gallant defence and
resisted twenty desperate assaults; but to the overwhelming numbers
of the beleaguering army and the incessant fire of the Turkish
batteries were added the disaffection and treachery of allies and
mercenaries. Schism again came to the aid of the infidels; and
Belgrade, like Constantinople, fell into the power of the Turks.
According to established custom Solyman took formal possession of
the place in the name of the false prophet by “saying prayers” in
the cathedral, which thus became a mosque, and was then, to use the
expression appropriated to such profanations, “purged from idolatry”
by the destruction of the altars and the removal of every Christian
ornament and symbol. Having thus completed his first great conquest,
and established a Turkish stronghold on the Hungarian frontier, the
youthful sultan marched back in triumph to Constantinople.
The result meanwhile was watched at Rhodes with anxious interest;
for all very well knew, should Belgrade fall, where the next blow
would be aimed. Fabricius Carretto was then grand master; the same
to whom D’Aubusson was thought to have predicted his election during
the storming of St. Nicholas; a man of literary and refined habits,
learned in all the learning of the age, which it must be remembered
was the age of the Medici and of the revival of letters, skilled in
all dead and living languages, a gallant warrior, and at the same
time a pacific and popular prince; the brother-in-arms of D’Aubusson,
and the friend and correspondent of Leo X. He died in the month of
January 1521; and with the daily expectation of a second siege, the
choice of his successor was a matter of interest not merely to
Rhodes, but to Christendom. The votes fell on one worthy in every
way to rank among the galaxy of illustrious princes who adorned the
opening of the sixteenth century: Philip Villiers de l’Isle Adam must
be added to the list which already included Francis, Charles, Leo,
and the Sultan Solyman. He was at Paris when the news of his election
reached him, but instantly set out for Rhodes, arriving there, after
happily escaping from a fire which broke out in his vessel, a violent
tempest, and the corsair Curtogli,[21] who lay in wait for him off
Cape St. Angelo, and through whose fleet the dauntless grand master
passed under cover of the night. His arrival in Rhodes was joyfully
welcomed. There had been no declaration of war on Solyman’s part; yet
it was scarcely needed, for Belgrade had fallen, and the intelligence
was conveyed to L’Isle Adam in a letter from Solyman himself, the
friendly terms of which threw but a transparent veil over the threats
they were intended to convey.
The correspondence between the sultan and the grand master may fairly
be looked upon as a curiosity in the history of diplomacy, and as
such we subjoin the letters.
“Solyman Sultan, by the grace of God King of Kings, Sovereign of
Sovereigns, most high Emperor of Byzantium and Trebizond, most
powerful King of Persia, Arabia, Syria, and Egypt, Supreme Lord
of Europe and Asia, Prince of Mecca and Aleppo, Possessor of
Jerusalem, and Ruler of the Universal Sea, to Philip Villiers de
L’Isle Adam, Grand Master of Rhodes, wishes health.
“We congratulate you on your new dignity, and on your arrival in
your states, desiring that you may reign there happily with yet
greater glory than your predecessors have done. It only rests
with you to share in our good graces. Accept our friendship,
therefore; and, as a friend, be not the last to congratulate us on
the conquests we have just achieved in Hungary, where we have made
ourselves masters of the important city of Belgrade, having caused
all such as dared to resist us to fall under our redoubtable sword.
Farewell.”
“Brother Philip Villiers de L’Isle Adam, Grand Master of Rhodes,
to Solyman, Sultan of the Turks.
“I have well understood the purport of your letter, delivered to
me by your ambassador. Your proposals of peace are as agreeable to
me as they are disagreeable to Curtogli. That corsair omitted no
efforts to surprise me on my passage from France; but not having
succeeded in his project, and being unable to resolve on quitting
these seas without causing us some damage, he has tried to carry
off two of our merchant vessels on the coast of Lycia; but the
galleys of the order have compelled him to fly. Farewell.”
This letter was despatched by a Greek merchant, the grand master not
judging it expedient to trust one of his knights in the hands of the
wily sultan. But anxious to entrap a representative of the order
whose presence at his court might be turned to good account, Solyman,
in his second letter, pretended never to have received the reply to
his first; it was intimated by his emissaries that it had not been
delivered on account of the meanness of the messenger, who all the
while had been seized, and tortured, to extract from him all the
information he could give. Solyman meantime writes as follows:
“They assure us that the letter which our magnificence wrote to you
has reached you, causing you more astonishment than pleasure. Rest
assured that I do not mean to content myself with the taking of
Belgrade, but that I shortly propose to myself a yet more important
enterprise, of which you will soon have warning; for, indeed, you
and your knights always keep a place in my memory.”
This was a little more intelligible in its irony, and the grand
master’s answer was in the same tone.
“I am truly glad that you remember me and my order. You speak to
me of your conquests in Hungary, and of your design of undertaking
fresh ones, whose success you trust will be similar. I would have
you consider that, of all the projects which men form, none are
more uncertain than those which depend on the fate of arms. Adieu.”
Shortly after this, a brigantine of the order was captured close to
Rhodes, and the war may be said to have begun. Meanwhile there were
not wanting traitors in Rhodes, who busily furnished the sultan with
every information he required; one being a Jewish physician, who even
received baptism for the purpose of blinding the Rhodians to his true
character; another, yet more dangerous and powerful, being found
unhappily in the ranks of the order, in the person of Andrew Damaral,
chancellor, and grand prior of Castile. Old differences with L’Isle
Adam, and a bitter jealousy of his elevation to power, contributed to
induce this man to betray his trust; and it is said the final loss of
the island was the result of his duplicity, as he had given a false
report of the quantity of powder in the place; so that no sufficient
supplies were laid in before the siege, when the vigilance of L’Isle
Adam was employed in furnishing every other magazine.
Great preparations were indeed made: the ramparts were strengthened,
the storehouses of forage and general provisions were replenished;
fresh artillery was imported from Europe; and embassies numberless,
and uniformly without result, were despatched to the Christian
sovereigns to implore a timely succour. But all was in vain; Charles
V. and Francis I. were just then playing their tournament for the
world’s applause; and in the rivalry of a miserable ambition were
deaf to the call of duty. So Rhodes was left to take care of herself,
the only ally she gained being the celebrated engineer, Gabriel
Martinengo, who at great personal sacrifices joined the order, and
was found of inestimable service during the siege.
There was a grand review and inspection of the knights and regular
troops held before the grand master; a splendid and inspiriting
sight. Each language drawn up before its inn—the knights in full
armour, their scarlet surcoats, worn only in time of war, displaying
the cross on every side; their numbers about six hundred, with some
5000 troops under their command; a handful of men soon to be matched
with the swarms of an Ottoman armament. Each language was reviewed
by a knight of its own division, every one touching his cross, and
swearing that his arms and armour were his own. England was nobly
represented, and her knights bore a distinguished part in the
conflict that ensued; nor indeed can we avoid the observation, that
so long as the English language existed in the order, its preeminent
valour is noticed by all historians, and, as is well known, the
important office of _Turcopolier_, or leader of the cavalry, belonged
of right to the English nation.
Again we have occasion to notice and to admire the religious unity
displayed at a time when jealousies between rival rites might so
easily have sown seeds of dangerous dissensions. The two patriarchs,
Greek and Latin, united in communion, knew no rivalry save that of
enthusiasm in the common cause; and the spirit of the people was
greatly animated and sustained by the eloquence of a Greek monk.
The Greek archbishop harangued the populace in the streets: he was
a noble old man, wise and gentle, but full of ardour; and he stood
opposite an image of our Lady, holding the crucifix aloft, while he
addressed his audience in strains of glowing fervour, and called on
them to have trust in God and His dear Mother, and to dwell on those
lofty thoughts of religion which are stronger than tower or bastion
for defence; and to be firm and constant in faith and loyalty, and
yield as true a service to their present grand master as they had
yielded to the glorious D’Aubusson. The traditions of Rhodes, and its
ancient glory, were not forgotten; and such words had the effect on
the people which might have been expected: the Rhodians were like one
man in their fearless vigorous resolve to suffer all things before
surrender or disgrace.
It is touching to read how every historian of the order, before
entering on the sad history of its downfall at Rhodes, gives, as it
were, one last lingering glance over the lovely island, never again
to be what it had now been for more than two hundred years. That
lofty capital, with the upper town, crested with the battlemented
palace of the grand master, surrounded by the dwellings of his
knights; those picturesque streets, with all the curious carvings and
ornaments of early ages, the knightly escutcheons on the walls and
the arched doorways, which still remain;[22] the city, round in its
form, but presenting from the sea the appearance of a graceful and
brilliant crescent; the forts still guarded as before, but greatly
strengthened in their defences, within whose bosom the cool clear
waters bathed the very foot of the houses, and mirrored in their
bright expanse the picture of that pile of palaces, which, half in
shade and half in sunshine, gave back the rays of the sun from their
marble walls with the brilliancy of gold. How lovely it all was!
and the forty years which had elapsed since the last invasion had
sufficed to restore to their pristine beauty the gardens and richly
cultivated country that girdled it from the land; so that if you
ascended the high steeple of St. John’s church, (still standing as a
mosque,) you might have gazed over the fairest landscape painter’s
eye could desire to rest upon, and might have caught the rich scent
of the roses on those peaceful fields, and watched the waving of the
corn, and the rustling leaves of vines and orange-trees,—all soon to
be laid waste, and trampled down in mire and blood. It was June; the
very noontide of summer beauty lay upon the sloping hills of Rhodes;
and many an eye, as it gazed for the last time on the lovely scene,
was blinded with the tears of a prophetic feeling which told that the
halcyon days of Rhodian glory were gone for ever.
The suburbs were destroyed as before; and this time with so vigorous
a good will as to draw forth particular notice and commendation from
the eye-witnesses. Villas, farm-houses, and cottages demolished;
trees cut down; corn uprooted, though the harvest was already
ripening in that sunny land; nothing was left that could afford
shelter, or food, or materials of war to the invader. The country
people came pouring into the city, bringing with them provisions,
animals, furniture, instruments of agriculture, all in strange
confusion: “the women, with their hair dishevelled, scratching
their cheeks,[23] as is the custom of the place, weeping sore, and
supplicating their Lord and God, with their tiny children lifting up
their clasped hands to heaven, and praying Him to have compassion
on them.” The citizens were armed and organised, and the sailors
and harbour-men enrolled and charged with the defence of the port;
the peasants set to work as pioneers; and the slaves compelled to
labour in digging trenches and repairing and strengthening the
fortifications. And lastly, our Lady of Philermos was brought in in
solemn procession, and deposited in the church of St. Mark, clergy
and people assisting in crowds; for now, as before, the defence of
Rhodes was solemnly committed to her patronage.
Nor was it long before open declaration of war was made, couched in
the following terms:
“To the Grand Master and his Knights, and to all the Inhabitants
of Rhodes, warning:
“The piracies which you continue to exercise against my faithful
subjects, and the insult you audaciously offer to my imperial
majesty, oblige me to command you instantly to render up your
island and fortress into my hands. If this you do forthwith, I
swear by the God who made heaven and earth,—by the hundred and
twenty-four thousand prophets,—by the four sacred books which fell
from heaven,—and by our great prophet Mahomet,—that you shall have
free liberty to depart from the island, and the inhabitants to
remain therein without hurt or damage. But if you yield not instant
obedience to my orders, you shall all pass under the edge of my
invincible sword; and the towers, the bastions, and the walls of
Rhodes shall be reduced to the level of the grass that grows at
their feet.”
To this peremptory summons of the sultan it was resolved in council
of the Knights that the only answer accorded him should issue from
the cannon’s mouth. Rhodes now knew that the hour of peril was at
hand; the inhabitants of the neighbouring islands belonging to the
order, many of them expert in war, were summoned in, and set to
garrison the various forts under command of chosen knights; but
ere the enemy appeared, and when every preparation had been made,
each man being assigned his post and duty with a particularity the
details of which might only fatigue the reader, the grand master
ordered that all should make ready for action by fasts and prayer,—he
himself setting the example; for whenever the cares of business and
government left him a moment free, he was to be seen at the foot of
the altar. The knights and citizens trusted as much in his prayers as
in his valour, and were used to say that Heaven itself was interested
in the cause of so holy a prince. All through the siege he wore the
same sweet gracious look; a smile ever ready upon his lips; nothing
of hurry or passion in his manner, but the tranquillity that became
him as a religious, well fitted with the gallant bearing of the
knight. You might see him kneel down at times in his armour, just
putting aside his helmet, to pray on the spot where he stood. He ate
with the common soldiers, and sometimes went on guard at night like
a private sentinel; and this from that true poverty of spirit for
which he was remarkable, and which made men revere him as a saint at
the same time that they followed him as a captain. Indeed, it was
whispered that something of a supernatural, superhuman character
attached to him; and they scarce knew whether to wonder most at his
gifts of valour or of prayer.
It was early on the morning of the 26th of June 1522, when the
sentinel on the top of St. Stephen’s Hill espied the Turkish fleet
advancing on the eastern side, and at the distance of about a mile.
Tidings were instantly sent to the grand master, who received them
as though it were a matter of which he was already well informed. It
was within the octave of the feast of St. John; and the custom was in
Rhodes to make a daily procession during that time, which the grand
master would not permit to be interrupted this year, nor even on
this day. Despite, therefore, the excitement and consternation that
prevailed, all was conducted as though the city were in profoundest
peace. The populace assembled in St. John’s church; and after High
Mass, the procession was made round the church as heretofore, only
with something of unusual solemnity and care. Then the grand master
came before the altar, and, going up the steps, reverently opened
the tabernacle door, and took out the Most Holy Sacrament in the
Ostensorium;—first genuflecting, and remaining for a moment in
prayer, he took It in his hands, and turning, exhibited It to the
people; after which he prayed for them all,—for Rhodes, and for
its church and children, that God would turn away the danger, and
give His servants the blessings of peace. So, replacing the Blessed
Sacrament in the tabernacle, he left the altar, and causing the
church-doors to be shut, gave out the orders for every one to proceed
to his post.
As he himself returned to his palace after this touching ceremony,
word was brought him that the enemy’s fleet was close to land; he
heard the news with his usual tranquillity, and only ordered the
city-gates to be closed. An hour afterwards the palace-gates were
thrown open, and there rode out a brilliant and gallant train. Many
knights in armour and scarlet surcoats, the three standards floating
over their heads, each borne by chosen men, to whom they had been
solemnly delivered in charge; and one, whereon the white cross was
quartered with the arms of the grand master, was carried by a young
Englishman, who found an early death at the very beginning of the
siege. L’Isle Adam, in golden armour, was at their head; and as
the procession came along, and the trumpets sounded with a loud
triumphant flourish, such a thrill of glad and glorious enthusiasm
stirred through the crowd as banished fear; and they rushed to window
and terraced roof to watch the coming of the Turkish fleet, and
almost to welcome its advance. What a magnificent spectacle! In the
streets below that gorgeous chivalric procession, the finest steeds
and the brightest armour, and the gallantest hearts of Christendom!
Suddenly, and as though by some preconcerted signal, on every rampart
and battlemented wall, from the inns of the various languages and
all the posts of separate command, there wave a thousand flags. Each
nation has its own proud ensign and its own representative among the
Knights of Rhodes. There you may see the golden lilies of France
floating not far from the royal lions of England; there is the plain
cross of Savoy, first borne in honour of the order; there are the
white flag of Portugal, and the time-honoured banners of Castile and
Auvergne; and you know that beneath the silken folds of each are
posted brave and gallant hearts, who will add fresh honour to their
old renown. Look out over the port to the tower of St. Nicholas,
the key of Rhodes; twenty Provençal knights are there, claiming, as
Provence ever would, the post of danger and of glory. The rest of the
French you may distinguish drawn up with admirable regularity from
the tower of France to the Ambrosian gate; and thence to the gate
of St. George stand the Germans—you may tell them by the imperial
standard. Spain and England stand together; the banner of the
Turcopolier, Sir John Buck, waves out over their ranks; only nineteen
English are there, but every man a hero, and ready for a hero’s
death. The grand master will head them himself; for it is thought
the English bastion will bear the hardest brunt; but his ordinary
post of command when not in action will be opposite the church of
our Lady of Victories. It stands below you,—and from the platform in
front you may reach each post in a few moments,—a stately and a noble
building; but Rhodes has many such, though none to equal St. John’s,
whose delicate tapering steeple, “buried in air, and looking to the
sky,—the deep blue sky” of Rhodes,—catches the eye when you are miles
off at sea, and seems to place the glittering cross that crests its
summit half way ’twixt earth and heaven. If you watch, you may see
the four chief grand crosses, and their companies of relief, as they
are termed, going the rounds of the ramparts. There is an hourly
inspection of the defences day and night; and when the grand crosses
are not there, six hundred men take it by turns to make the circuit,
under two French and two Spanish knights, with rather summary
directions how to treat malefactors or traitors. Very little of trial
by jury, but a brief court-martial and a running noose.
Préjan de Bidoux has the charge of the batteries; he is the governor
of Cos: but after beating off thirty Turkish galleys from his own
island, he sent off straight to Rhodes, to beg the grand master’s
leave to come and join in the defence; and so soon as the joyful
permission was granted, he threw himself into a small vessel, and was
in the port before the Turks could stop him, though it is thought
his brigantine must have pushed through the very midst of their fleet.
Lastly, those venerable unwarlike forms, bearded and saint-like, at
whose approach knights and sentinels and glittering ranks kneel down
as for a father’s blessing, are not the least among the defenders of
Rhodes. Leonard Balestein is the Latin metropolitan, reckoned the
most eloquent preacher of his day; Clement, the Greek archbishop,
you have already heard of; and they love one another as brothers; so
that, as they go from post to post, they are seldom to be met apart.
All this you may see as you look down upon the city. But glance
over the ocean, and another spectacle awaits you. The blue line of
the Levant, sparkling in the summer sunshine, and kissed into life
and motion by a northern breeze; and on its heaving bright expanse
300 Turkish sail, gathered from every coast that owns the Ottoman
rule,—from Egypt, Syria, and every part of Asia,—and having on board,
in addition to the regular crews, 8000 chosen soldiers and 2000
pioneers; whilst 100,000 men under Solyman himself are advancing
along the western coast of Asia Minor.[24] Alas for Rhodes and her
6000 defenders! We may well be pardoned this glance at her as she
stands in the last hour of her beauty and display. The 26th of June
sees her indeed magnificent to the eye, and in all the pomp and
pride of chivalry and warlike show; but soon that gay and martial
music will be exchanged for the thunder of artillery, and those
battlemented bannered walls will be crumbling to the dust.
We must, however, commence a fresh chapter before entering on the
story of the last siege of Rhodes.