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.
The Turkish forces now before the capital of Rhodes were commanded
by Mustapha Pasha, whose counsel had in the first instance urged on
the sultan to undertake the enterprise, and to whom its conduct had
been intrusted. The troops were landed on the 28th of July 1522, but
siege-operations did not commence until the 1st of August. In the
expectation of finding an abundance of provisions in the fertile
island, scarcely any had been brought by the fleet. The first thing,
therefore, perceived on the disembarkment of the troops was the
fact that the army stood in no small danger of starvation. Instead
of the abundance they had expected to meet with, they found on all
sides a desert, without crops, inhabitants, or forage; for to such
a state had the wise precautions of the grand master reduced the
whole country round. The wells were choked and rendered nauseous and
poisonous; and Mustapha soon found that to keep the field for many
days together, he would require something more than the garlic, dried
fruits, fish, and salt meat, which, as his physician Ramadan tells
us, were all the provisions he had deemed it necessary to bring.
His principal hopes of success had been placed in the operations
of his miners: but at the commencement the frequent sorties of the
Knights, and their ruinous fire, prevented the Turks from gaining
any advantage; and what with continual conflicts in which they were
always the losers, the prospect of starvation, and no hopes of booty,
the soldiers of the besieging army showed symptoms of discontent
which soon broke out into open mutiny. Peri Pasha, the second in
command, and appointed by the sultan to furnish him with exact
intelligence of all that passed, lost no time in acquainting him
with the gloomy aspect of affairs; adding, that perhaps the “gentle
omnipotence” of his presence might restore the courage of his troops.
The celerity with which Solyman acted on this advice rivalled, says
Bosio, the intrepid marches of Cæsar. Embarking with a few followers
in two small open boats, he appeared at Rhodes before his approach
could have been suspected, and declared to the army, who received
him with all military honours, that he was only come to punish their
rebellion and decimate his cowardly battalions. The interference
of Peri Pasha, perhaps pre-arranged, turned him from this design;
and the troops, recalled to their duty by his presence, sought to
regain their reputation for valour and discipline by entering on the
siege with an ardour hitherto unparalleled. If we are to judge by
the language employed by Ramadan in his history of the expedition,
the Turkish soldiery were stimulated to the conquest of the island
by descriptions addressed to their vilest passions,—descriptions
which, by throwing a veil of voluptuousness and romance over the
most detestable enormities, were calculated to stifle every feeling
of humanity in their breasts, and to make them regard the worst
crimes they could perpetrate as the legitimate rewards of bravery
and daring. But what else could be expected of a creed so foul
and revolting? With a Mahometan heaven as the hoped-for reward,
sensuality the most licentious must be a virtue and a merit in the
eyes of the “true believer”.
The loss sustained by the garrison in their sorties, though slight
in comparison with that of their opponents, was judged by the grand
master too great to make the continuance of this mode of conflict
prudent or advisable. A hundred or a thousand men were little for
the enemy to lose, whilst the fall of a single knight was felt as
a disaster by the Christians. Keeping close, therefore, within
their ramparts, they left the infidels at liberty to erect their
batteries and make all their dispositions undisturbed, save by the
artillery from the walls. The high steeple of St. John’s served as
an observatory from whence every movement of the hostile forces
could easily be discerned. From its summit the whole camp and city
might be viewed, spread out as on a map; and the Turks were well
aware of the use made of the building by the Christian engineers.
Very early, therefore, it became the mark for their artillery,
and almost the first cannonade directed against it brought it to
the ground. The Turks had with them twelve monstrous guns, two of
which discharged, as on the former occasion, balls eleven or twelve
palms in diameter.[25] And now began the same furious and incessant
firing which had been endured at the previous siege; day and night
might be heard that long continuous roar, responded to by a fire
as hot and destructive on the part of the garrison. Mines, too,
underneath burrowed the ground in every direction; and it is said
that Martinengo, the engineer of the order, broke into no less than
fifty-five of these in the progress of his operations.
The walls of Rhodes were of prodigious height; “as high,” says the
Arabian physician before named, “as sultan Mahmoud’s minarets, and
broad as the streets of Constantinople.” To command these, therefore,
the Turks undertook a truly wonderful work, being nothing less than
the construction of two vast mounds or hills, artificially composed
of earth and stones brought together with immense labour, which rose
ten or twelve feet above the battlements, and gave extraordinary
effect to the batteries which were planted on their summits. The
laborious engineering works undertaken by both parties during
the siege were indeed of an herculean character; and though such
operations are for the most part of little interest to the general
reader, yet they become invested with an almost romantic character
from the scale on which we find them here conducted. In the attack on
St. Nicholas, for instance, the pasha, remembering the failure of his
predecessor at the former siege, dressed his batteries, and worked
them by night only, every morning dismantling the guns and burying
them in the sand. He flattered himself he had succeeded, when he
saw the western rampart fall in ruins; but all the while his labour
had been rivalled and surpassed by his indefatigable opponents, who
had built and armed a new fortress within the old one; so that, as
the outer ruin fell, like a certain drawn aside, it but displayed a
new wall, which stood behind bristling with cannon, and rendering
necessary the re-commencement of the whole attack.
We shall not, however, call on our readers to accompany us through
the course of these operations; but passing over three months of
weary battery and bloodshed, ask him to enter St. John’s church on
an afternoon in the first week of September, where he will find a
crowd of all ranks (but women mostly, for the men are at the walls,)
praying silently, while the choir is just about to begin vespers.
Kneeling in his wonted place is Villiers de L’Isle Adam; he is ever
there when not engaged in active conflict; and just now there is a
lull in the cannonading, as though the enemy were perplexed at the
obstinate resistance, and were planning a fresh method of attack.
His noble venerable countenance is sad, though not discouraged: how
should it be otherwise? His little force is now reduced to scarcely
3000 men besides the knights; of them 300 alone are left. The powder
is failing; rumours of treachery every where abroad, and no news of
succour yet from Europe. A courier has been sent to Rome, and bears
the news that the struggle is desperate; women fighting because there
are not men enough to work the batteries, and no provisions left but
bread and water. He wears his cuirass,—for indeed he never lays it
aside, but even in church is always ready for a hasty summons; just
now, however, there seems a little respite; that long and deafening
roar is still, and you may hear the sweet voices of the choir as they
intone the versicles: _Deus, in adjutorium meum intende: Domine,
ad adjuvandum me festina._ But the rest is drowned in a sudden
interruption. First a strange and hideous rumbling underground:
the city trembles as from an earthquake; then a shock, and a loud
explosion, shrieks of dying and wounded, and cries of combat; a wild
disordered confusion of all noises, and the fall of stones and rocks
upon the roofs, give notice of some great disaster. And so indeed it
was; for the greater part of the English bastion had been blown into
the air by an enormous mine; and the Turks, taking advantage of the
confusion, were preparing for the assault. “I accept the omen,” cried
the grand master, as he repeated the words which the choir had just
sung; then turning to the knights who surrounded him, “Come, dear
brothers,” he said, “we must exchange the sacrifice of praise for
that of our lives;” and seizing a lance from an attendant, he hurried
to the spot.
Not all the bastion was destroyed; but the part still standing was
already in possession of the Turks, when the grand master and his
intrepid followers appeared upon the scene. Not a dozen in number,
they throw themselves on the enemy; every thing is swept before
them; the heavy blows from the stalwart aims hew in pieces all that
opposes them; the banners just planted on the walls are torn down
and thrown into the ditch, and their defenders flung after them as
easily as though they were no greater weight than their own turbans.
In vain Mustapha heads his beaten soldiers sword in hand, and slays
the foremost in retreat; in vain batteries play upon the smoking
ruins, and column after column of fresh troops endeavour to regain
the post occupied by such a handful of opponents,—nothing can resist
the Christian knights; and soon from the walls and every quarter that
overlooks the scene there pour down on the besiegers’ heads stones
and fire-pots and other horrible war-missiles of the time—streams of
flaming pitch and brimstone, that burn and blind them as they press
forward to the breach, and deadly volleys of artillery which lay rank
after rank upon the field. It was an hour’s combat; but at length
the thick masses of the enemy were forced to retreat. Never had the
besiegers received so terrible a repulse; and Solyman, as he walked
over the ground viewing the myriads of his slain, was filled with a
very passion of anguish when he marked amongst them the form of his
favourite officer, the young chief of the Ottoman artillery.
Five days passed without any fresh attack. The Janizaries were
murmuring at the prolonged struggle, which they deemed but a hopeless
sacrifice of their blood, when Peri Pasha resolved on leading a new
assault in person, directed this time against the Italian bastion.
Extraordinary preparations were made on the part of the Turks; their
troops, divided into seven bodies, were led on by chosen chiefs,
and over each waved a standard solemnly committed to the charge
of men chosen from the bravest and most ferocious or the veteran
soldiers. Every thing was done to impress the troops with a sense
of the importance of their enterprise, and to inspire them with a
confidence of victory. They approached the walls in profound silence,
unperceived by their adversaries, and then raising a loud yell dashed
up the breach, and made their way to the inner fortification. The
guards were few in number, and were soon cut to pieces; the night
too was dark, and favoured the design of the assailants; and the
garrison, wearied out with constant watching, were scarcely able to
rouse themselves for the defence. Every thing seemed gained; and
Peri Pasha, followed by his seven standard-bearers, was in the act
of directing all his strength upon the remnant of the besieged, who,
though wounded and grievously thinned in numbers, still held their
ground with an obstinate resolution,—when the Turkish line wavered
as by some sudden panic; their arms, raised high to strike, fell
powerless to their sides; and hesitating and scared, they shrank back
upon those behind, as a gigantic and powerful form stepped between
the ranks of the combatants, and seemed to clear the ground before
him by the very majesty of his presence. The flash of the fire-arms
and the gleaming torch-light fell upon his face, and a shout of
triumph rose from the Christian soldiers as they recognised the
person of their grand master, who, with a few of his chosen knights,
seemed to multiply himself, says the French historian, so as to be
at every post of danger. Fontanus, an eye-witness, declares that at
his very appearance, without the striking of a blow, the Turks drew
back in fear while turning to his followers, he exclaimed: “Come,
comrades, drive back these fellows from the breach; we must not fear
men who are beaten every day.” His words were received with a cheer
of victory, as they dashed upon the Turks with an impetuous shock:
then you might have seen the grand master drive back the enemy with
his single arm,[26] and as they threw themselves pell-mell from
breach and rampart, the handful of defenders were left masters of the
field.
This was the 13th of September. Another four days passed without
the assault being renewed; when Mustapha, whose former failures had
earned him a disgrace, gave orders for a fresh attack on the ruined
bastion of England, determining to carry it at all costs, or die in
the intrenchments, rather than again appear before Solyman after a
new defeat. Achmet Pasha at the same time was to storm the quarters
of Spain and Auvergne; and the besieged, thus divided in their
strength, would, it was hoped, be unable to resist. The battalions
of the Turks, five in number, were met on the summit of the ruined
ramparts by the English knights, with the Turcopolier, Sir John
Buck, at their head. He was the first to fall; but in spite of their
leader’s death, the English gained the day, and held their shattered
ruin by main courage and strength of arm for yet another month.
After this repulse, the infidels began to think of abandoning the
enterprise as hopeless; for they were wont to say one to another,
that the knights could never be beaten in the presence of their
chief; and as for “the cursed L’Isle Adam, he was every where at
once.” Whilst they were hesitating and taking counsel, and whilst
Solyman was endeavouring to infuse new spirit into their failing
hearts, the treason of the Jewish physician was discovered, and
met with its merited reward; and rightly interpreting the various
movements in the enemy’s camp to betoken the approach of some new and
prodigious effort, the Christians spent the interval in preparations
for meeting an assault-general, which was indeed the plan on which
Solyman had determined. For, as he said, “whilst we attack these
giaours at one place only at a time, we make war for their amusement;
rather must they be assailed on all sides at once,—overwhelmed,
inundated by our countless numbers, and, if not exterminated from the
earth under our sabres, compelled to sue for mercy at our hands.”
The 24th of September was the day indicated for this great attack,
which was to be made at once on all four quarters of the city. From
noon till midnight of the day before, heralds continued traversing
the infidel camp crying, “To-morrow is the assault; the stones and
the land are the sultan’s; the lives and the goods of the citizens
are the prize of the conquerors.” The grand master, after making the
best disposal in his power of his little company, addressed them and
the inhabitants in a few simple words. But there was little time for
exhortation or farewell; for at break of day the wild trumpets from
the Janizaries’ band gave the signal for the advance; and those who
stood at their posts on the walls could plainly see the sultan’s
throne erected on an adjacent hill which commanded a view of the
whole field, so that his troops well knew that they fought under
their sovereign’s eye.
On they come under cover of a shower of arrows and the fire of their
side batteries; they reach the walls, and are received by hissing
streams of boiling oil, and fire-balls that fill the air with a
thick and noisome smoke; the bastions of England, Provence, Spain,
and Italy are the quarters of attack, but the bloodiest fight is on
that of England, and thither the grand master hastens, his presence
in itself being like a very host of succour. The scaling-ladders are
thrown down, and the ditch below is choked with the prostrate Turks;
the cannon are pointed on their dense masses, which they rend and
tear with a terrible carnage; charge after charge is made by the
maddened infidels, but the English will not yield; priests, monks,
even children join in the defence, and tiny hands may be seen hurling
stones and sticks upon the advancing stormers with an audacity
which nothing will appal. All about the town the women may be seen
running from bastion to bastion, carrying water to the wounded, whom
they even bear off upon their shoulders. At one time forty Turkish
standards are waving on the ramparts; but in a moment they are
torn down, and the Cross is planted in their room. The assault is
repulsed from England, and the cry is now, “Spain! Spain!” Glancing
in the direction of the Spanish bastion, L’Isle Adam sees the green
flag and the crescent of the infidels on the topmost summit of the
walls. In a moment he is on the spot: “Auvergne to the rescue!” rings
from the ranks of the French, as the grand master stands among his
countrymen, and with his own hands points the cannon of that bastion
down upon the breach of Spain. The Turks dare not advance to secure
their victory; and in another moment the commander De Bourbon, at
the head of the French chivalry, is on the platform, and his knights
are seen tearing down the colours, and clearing the ground at the
point of their swords. But the aga of the Janizaries who leads on
that spot is not to be so easily repulsed; he rallies his men, and
charges through the thick of the fire with mad impetuosity, when
he is met by L’Isle Adam and his guards, and a conflict ensues, so
long and desperate that far out to sea the blue waters are dyed with
streams of blood, and the breach of Spain becomes a heap of dead
and dying. Six hours it lasted; and then a reinforcement from St.
Nicholas decided the day in favour of the Cross. Solyman himself
was compelled to give the signal for retreat; and the masses of his
troops fell back broken and disordered, leaving 20,000 corpses on
those unconquerable walls. The grand master, without laying aside his
armour, or taking rest or food, directed his steps to the church to
give thanks to God for a victory so costly and yet so surpassing in
its glory; and Rhodes, after that day of carnage, had another week of
rest. So immense had been the slaughter during this conflict, that we
are told the cessation of hostilities arose from both parties being
compelled to withdraw from the walls, where the stench of the bodies
was unendurable.
Solyman, enraged at his repeated discomfitures, condemned both
his unfortunate generals to death; and it was only at the earnest
entreaties of the other pashas, who threw themselves in tears at his
feet, that he was induced to spare their lives. Mustapha was sent as
governor into Egypt, and Achmet Pasha was placed at the head of the
army.[27] But for assurances of his spies and the traitors within
the walls that Rhodes was at its last gasp, it seems certain that he
would have abandoned the enterprise altogether. But a council of
war being held, it was determined to renew the assault on the eighth
day. Accordingly the whole line of walls was stormed for three days
successively; the English bastion, still the post of danger and of
glory, though now a mere charred and ruined fragment, being this time
held by a picked body of French, for every English knight was dead.
In one of these battles Martinengo fell desperately wounded,—a great
loss to the Christians, whose movements had been mainly directed
by his skill; but the grand master thenceforth took his place, and
for thirty-four days, we are assured, he never left the bastion of
Spain, where the chief struggle was maintained, taking no rest save
on a mattress they laid for him at the foot of a battery; “acting
sometimes as a soldier, and sometimes as an engineer, but always
as a general,” and exposing his life with a fearlessness that made
his preservation something like a perpetual miracle. It was at this
period of the siege that the treachery of Damaral being suspected, he
was tried and condemned. Some have doubted his guilt, and represented
that his misconduct consisted in nothing worse than a coldness and
slackness in his duties, proceeding from jealousy of the grand
master; however that might be, it is certain that he met with a
traitor’s death.
We shall not ask our reader to accompany us through the history of
the last month of uninterrupted fighting. During that extraordinary
struggle, Rhodes presented the spectacle of a city entirely unwalled,
with neither gates nor ramparts left, garrisoned by about 2000
wounded and exhausted men, yet keeping at bay the entire Turkish
force at the point of their swords. In vain did Solyman in his
addresses to his soldiers assure them that there was nothing to keep
them out of the city; it lay open on all sides, and thirty men might
ride abreast into its breaches: the artillery no longer played on the
ramparts, but on the houses themselves. Yet still, whilst the remnant
of the Christian garrison stood before their ruins, every effort
of the infidels was in vain; and as often as they advanced within
hearing, they were received with jests and defiances, taunted for
their cowardice, and incited with bitter mockery to come up into the
city, and take it if they could. Hardly were there left men enough to
make the line of defence complete; the women stood sometimes by their
sides, praying and encouraging their sons and husbands to fight on to
the last for liberty and faith. And thus things continued until the
beginning of the month of December.
There can be no doubt that, had succours arrived from Europe, the
place would have been saved; for the Turks, who are said to have
lost by war and disease no fewer than 90,000 men, were well-nigh
in despair, particularly as the weather had become stormy, and
threatened the destruction of their fleet. But there was no help
from Christendom for its brave defenders: compliments in plenty, and
fine words to the ambassadors who were despatched to represent the
threatened danger; but whilst the sovereigns of France and Spain
were courteous enough to say that Rhodes was the spectacle of the
universe, they were too busy in a war of foolish rivalry to send a
single galley to its aid. The knights scattered through the various
countries of Europe made every effort to reinforce their comrades;
but the tempests that raged during many weeks prevented them from
arriving in time. The French knights were forced into the ports of
Sardinia; a Spanish flotilla which had made its way to the harbour
of Rhodes was beaten off by the Turks, and obliged to retire; and
lastly, a few English knights, under the gallant veteran Sir Thomas
Newport, persisting in the attempt to keep at sea, their vessel
foundered in the storm, and every soul on board was drowned.
It was now that Solyman, desirous of getting possession of the city
on any terms, and perhaps not unwilling to obtain a reputation for
clemency, had recourse to negotiations; and a certain Genoese who
was found in the camp was despatched to represent to the besieged
the misery which a prolonged resistance would infallibly bring on
the unoffending inhabitants when the city should at length be taken,
whereas a timely surrender would prevent all the horrors of a storm.
L’Isle Adam, however, rejected all overtures with the enemy, as
contrary to the statutes of his order, and declared his own firm
resolve to be buried under the ruins of Rhodes sooner than consent to
yield his trust into the hands of the infidel. Emissaries from the
Turkish camp appeared again and again before the walls; the grand
master ordered them to be fired upon; the citizens, weary of the
contest, threatened to treat for terms on their own account; still
he was inflexible. But he was unsupported: not but that his knights
were as ready as himself to die, sword in hand fighting against the
infidels; but they could not resist the crowd of weeping citizens
who stood about the council-door begging them to save their wives
and children by a timely compliance with honourable terms; and their
voices prevailed; for at length, after long hesitation, L’Isle Adam
was forced to yield; and doubtless the concession cost him more than
all the suffering and disaster of the last six months of bloodshed.
He consented to take advantage of the first overtures that were
made to treat for a surrender. The opportunity soon came: on the
10th of December the sultan caused a flag of truce to be hoisted on
a neighbouring church outside the walls, and despatched two of his
officers with a letter offering to allow the knights and citizens a
free embarkation, carrying goods and chattels with them, in case of
capitulation; otherwise an indiscriminate massacre of all, without
distinction of age or sex, and that instantly; to which was attached
his signature in letters of gold. The grand master in return sent
two envoys, who begged a three days’ armistice for deliberation;
this Solyman refused, and hostilities were renewed. The infidels
were again repulsed with great slaughter; but the townspeople,
terrified at the peril that impended, came in a body and entreated
L’Isle Adam to renew negotiations. He consented; but to gain time,
he sent Achmet Pasha the treaty by which Bajazet had, in the most
solemn form, guaranteed to the order the free possession of Rhodes.
Achmet no sooner cast his eyes on the parchment than, in a fit of
rage, he tore it in pieces and trod the fragments under foot; and
not content with this, he drove the envoys from his presence, and
sent an insulting message to the grand master by the prisoners
taken the same day, whose fingers, ears, and nose he inhumanly cut
off. At length, however, as no prospect of relief appeared, and all
hope of prolonging the defence was gone, L’Isle Adam consented to
the terms proposed by Solyman, and the treaty was signed. Terms so
honourable to the Christians had never yet been granted: the exercise
of the Christian religion was to be free; the churches unprofaned;
the children were not to be seized and brought up in the faith of
Mahomet; the knights and inhabitants were to be afforded a safe
passage out of the port; and the Turks bound themselves even to
supply vessels for this purpose should they be required. Moreover,
the holy relics and the sacred vases of the church of St. John were
to be given up to the Christians, as well as the cannon with which
to arm their galleys; the Ottoman army retiring from the walls
during the evacuation of the place, and leaving only a guard of 4000
Janizaries.
Two days after the signing of the treaty, L’Isle Adam visited the
sultan in his tent, and being admitted to his presence, after being
kept waiting for many hours in a pitiless storm of snow, was received
with an almost involuntary respect. For indeed there was a majesty
in the very look of the grand master which none was ever known to
resist; and although Solyman was not prepared to evince much courtesy
to his fallen adversary, yet we are told, after the two had gazed
at one another for a few moments in silence, the haughtiness of
the Ottoman sovereign was forced to yield, and giving his hand to
the grand master to kiss, he even attempted to console him under
his misfortunes; offering him the highest rank within his power to
bestow, if he would embrace the Moslem faith and join his service; to
which L’Isle Adam’s reply may be imagined.
Unhappily the fair terms of Solyman’s treaty were but little
regarded. A fresh band of Janizaries landing in the island on
Christmas Eve, broke into the city, and, armed only with clubs,
pillaged the houses of the principal inhabitants, and committed
every manner of atrocity. The church of St. John was the principal
object of their fury: they defaced the frescoes on the walls, dashed
the images to pieces, overturned the altars, flung out ornaments,
relics, every thing; dragged the crucifix through the mud, and in
their search for hidden treasure broke open and demolished the very
tombs of the grand masters. This done, they mounted to the top of the
tower, “called the faithful to prayer,” and that same hour turned
the sacred building into a mosque. From the church they proceeded
to the great hospital, where, as we learn from an eye-witness, they
_beat the sick in their beds_ with such violence that many died, and
among them one of the knights of the order, who was flung from the
corridor and killed. The Christians they met with in the streets
they fell upon with their clubs, murdering some on the spot; they
robbed the townspeople who were carrying their goods down to the
ships, compelling them to carry their own property on their backs,
like beasts of burden, to the camp; women and young girls, some mere
children, they made the victims of their brutality.
The fault, however, is not to be attributed to Solyman, who hastened
to put a stop to these excesses; and entering the city in person,
proceeded to return the visit of the grand master in his own palace.
Whatever his motive, none can deny that in his transactions with the
knights Solyman observed a moderation which was worthy of his title
of “Magnificent:” not, perhaps, so loyal and sincere a generosity as
that which has often been seen displayed by Christian chivalry, yet
presenting a most striking contrast to the ferocious barbarism of
his predecessors; and it is said, that during the final interview
between him and L’Isle Adam, he was so touched with the resigned and
tranquil deportment of the venerable hero, that, turning as he left
the palace to one of his generals, he observed, “It is not without
regret that I force this brave Christian to leave his home in his old
age.”[28]
The Turks entered Rhodes on the morning of Christmas Day. At that
same hour Pope Adrian was offering the Holy Sacrifice on the high
altar of St. Peter’s: suddenly a stone detached itself from a
projecting cornice and fell at his feet, as though to warn the
Universal Pastor that one of the outworks of Christendom was lost to
the Church.