THE NAVIES OF THE MIDDLE AGES [_Continued_]: VENICE AND THE TURK
The city-state of Venice owed its origin to the very same barbarian
invasions that wrecked the old established cities of the Italian
peninsula. Fugitives from these towns in northern Italy and the
outlying country districts fled to the islets and lagoons for shelter
from the Hun, the Goth, and the Lombard. As the sea was the Venetians'
barrier from the invader, so also it had to be their source of
livelihood, and step by step through the centuries they built up
their commerce until they practically controlled the Mediterranean,
for trade or for war.
As early as 991 a Doge of Venice made a treaty with the Saracens
inaugurating a policy held thereafter by Venice till the time of
Lepanto; namely, to trade with Mohammedans rather than fight them.
The supreme passion of Venice was to make money, as it had been of
ancient Phnicia, and to this was subordinated every consideration
of race, nationality, and religion. The first important step was
the conquest of the Dalmatian pirates at the beginning of the 11th
century. This meant the Venetian control of the Adriatic. When the
Crusades began, the sea routes to the Holy Land were in the hands
of the Venetians; indeed it was this fact that made the Crusades
possible. As the carrying and convoying agent of the Crusaders,
Venice developed greatly in wealth and power. With direct access to
the Brenner Pass, she became a rich distributing center for Eastern
goods to northern Europe. In all important Levantine cities there
was a Venetian quarter, Venetians had special trading privileges,
and many seaports and islands came directly under Venetian rule.
[Illustration: THEATER OF OPERATIONS, VENICE AND THE TURK]
This rapid expansion naturally roused the jealousy of others. In
1171 Venice fought an unsuccessful war with Constantinople, and
yet continued to grow in wealth and power. In 1204, as we have
seen, Venice avenged herself by diverting the Fourth Crusade to
the siege and sack of her eastern rival. As the reward of that
nefarious exploit Venice received the greater part of the eastern
empire, and became the dominating power in the Mediterranean. During
the 13th and 14th centuries, however, she was compelled to fight
with her rebellious colonies and her new rivals, Genoa and Padua.
The wars with Genoa very nearly proved fatal to Venice, but just
when matters seemed most desperate she was saved by a naval victory
against a Genoese fleet in her own waters. In consequence of these
wars between Venice and Genoa both were heavy losers in wealth
and lives; Genoa never recovered from her defeat, but her rival
showed amazing powers of recuperation. She extended her territory
in Italy to include the important cities of Treviso, Padua, Vicenza,
and Verona, and in 1488 acquired the island of Cyprus in the Levant.
At this time the Venetian state owned 3300 ships, manned by 36,000
men, and stood at the height of her power.
Already, however, a new enemy had appeared who threatened not only
Venice but all Europe. This was the Ottoman Turk. The Turks were
not like the Arabs, members of the Indo-European family, but a
race from the eastern borders of the Caspian Sea, a branch of the
Mongolian stock. As these peoples moved south and west they came in
contact with Mohammedanism and became ardent converts. Eventually
they swept over Asia Minor, crossed the Dardanelles, took Adrianople,
and pushed into Serbia. Thus, when Constantinople fell in 1453 it
had been for some time a mere island of Christianity surrounded by
Moslems. Indeed it was only the civil wars among the Turks themselves
that held them back so long from the brilliant career of conquest
that characterized the 15th and early 16th centuries, for these
later followers of Mohammed had all the fanaticism of the Saracens.
Before the fall of Constantinople and the transfer of the Turkish
seat of government to that city, a corps of infantry was organized
that became the terror of the Christian world--the Janissaries. By
a grim irony of the Sultan, who created this body of troops, these
men were exclusively of Christian parentage, taken as children either
in the form of a human tribute levied on the Christian population
of Constantinople, or as captives in the various expeditions in
Christian territory. The Janissaries were brought up wholly to a
military life, they were not permitted to marry, and their lives
were devoted to fighting for the Crescent. For a long time they
were invincible in the open field.
The first half of the 16th century saw the Turks in Persia, in the
east, and at the gates of Vienna in the west. For a time they got
a foothold in Italy by seizing Otranto. They had conquered Egypt
and Syria, penetrated Persia, and in Arabia gained the support of
the Arabs for the Turkish sultan as the successor to the Caliphs.
Constantinople, therefore, became not only the political capital
for the Turkish empire but the religious center of the whole Moslem
world. Moreover, the Arab states on the southern borders of the
Mediterranean acknowledged the suzerainty of the Turkish ruler.
This fact was of great importance, for it enabled the Turks to become
masters of the inland sea. In 1492 the greater part of the Moors--the
descendants of the Arab conquerors of Spain--were expelled from the
Peninsula by the conquest of Granada. This event was hailed with
joy throughout Christendom, but it had an unexpected and terrible
consequence. Flung back into northern Africa, and filled with hatred
because of the persecution they had endured, these Moors embarked
on a career of piracy directed against Christians. In making common
cause with the Turks they supplied the fleets that the Turkish
power needed to carry out its schemes of conquest. Apparently the
Turks had never taken to salt water as the Arabs had done, but in
these Moorish pirates they found fighters on the sea well worthy
to stand comparison with their peerless fighters on land, the
Janissaries. Between 1492 and 1580, the date of Ali's death, there
was a period in which the Moorish corsairs were supreme. It produced
three great leaders, each of whom in turn became the terror of the
sea: Kheyr ed Din, known as Barbarossa, Dragut, and Ali. It is a
curious fact that the first and third were of Christian parentage.
So long as the Turk invaded Christian territory by land alone,
the Venetians were unconcerned. They made what treaties they could
for continuing their trade with communities that had fallen into
the conquerors' hands. But when the Turk began to spread out by
sea it was inevitable that he must clash with the Venetian, and so
there was much fighting. Yet even after a successful naval campaign
the emissary of Venice was obliged to come before the Sultan, cap
in hand, to beg trading privileges in Turkish territory. Everything
in Venetian policy was subordinated to the maintenance of sufficient
friendly relations with the Turk to assure a commercial monopoly in
the Levant. Although the Moslem peril grew more and more menacing,
Venice remained unwilling to join in any united action for the
common good of Europe.
Of course Venice was not alone in this policy. In 1534 Francis
the First, for example, in order to humiliate his rival, Charles
V, secretly sent word to Barbarossa of the plans being made against
him. Indeed France showed no interest in combating the Turk even
at the time when he was at the summit of his power. But Venice, as
the dominating naval power, had the means of checking the Turkish
invasion if she had chosen to do so. Instead she permitted the
control of the Mediterranean to slip from her into the hands of
the Moslems with scarcely a blow.
The leading part in the resistance to the Moslem sea power was
taken by Spain under Charles V. He had, as admiral of the navy,
Andrea Doria, the Genoese, the ablest seaman on the Christian side.
Early in his career he had captured a notorious corsair; later
in the service of Spain, he defeated the Turks at Patras (at the
entrance to the Gulf of Corinth), and again at the Dardanelles.
These successes threatened Turkish supremacy on the Mediterranean,
and Sultan Soliman "the Magnificent," the ruler under whom the
Turkish empire reached its zenith, summoned the Algerian corsair
Barbarossa and gave him supreme command over all the fleets under
the Moslem banner. At this time, 1533, Barbarossa was seventy-seven
years old, but he had lost none of his fire or ability. On the
occasion of being presented to the Sultan, he uttered a saying
that might stand as the text for all the writings of Mahan: "Sire,
he who rules on the sea will shortly rule on the land also."
The following year Barbarossa set out from Constantinople with
a powerful fleet and proceeded to ravage the coast of Italy. He
sacked Reggio, burnt and massacred elsewhere on the coast without
opposition, cast anchor at the mouth of the Tiber and if he had
chosen could have sacked Rome and taken the Pope captive. He then
returned to Constantinople with 11,000 Christian captives.
Charles V was roused by this display of corsair power and barbarity
to collect a force that should put an end to such raids. Barbarossa
had recently added Tunis to his personal domains, and the great
expedition of ships and soldiers which the emperor assembled was
directed against that city. Despite the warning given by the King
of France, Barbarossa was unable to oppose the Christian host with
a force sufficiently strong to defend the city. The Christians
captured it and the chieftain escaped only by a flight along the
desert to the port of Bona where he had a few galleys in reserve.
With these he made his way to Algiers before Andrea Doria could
come up with him. The Christians celebrated the capture of Tunis by
a massacre of some 30,000 inhabitants and returned home, thanking
God that at last Barbarossa was done for. Indeed, with the loss
of his fleet and his newly acquired province it seemed as if the
great pirate was not likely to give much trouble, but the Christians
had made the mistake of leaving the work only half done.
In 1537, two years after the fall of Tunis, the Sultan declared war
on Venice. The Turkish fleet, although led by the Sultan Soliman
himself, was defeated by the Venetians off Corfu. Doria, in the
service of Charles V, caught and burned ten richly laden Turkish
merchant ships and then defeated a Turkish squadron. The prestige
of the Crescent on the sea was badly weakened by these events,
but suddenly Barbarossa appeared and raided the islands of the
Archipelago and the coasts of the Adriatic with a savagery and
sweep unmatched by anything in his long career. He arrived in the
Golden Horn laden with booty, and delivered to his master, the
Sultan, 18,000 captives.
This exploit changed the complexion of affairs. During the winter
of 1537-1538 the naval yards of Constantinople were busy with the
preparations for a new fleet which should take the offensive against
the Venetians and the Christians generally. In the spring Barbarossa
got out into the Archipelago and, raiding at will, swept up another
batch of prisoners to serve as galley slaves for the new ships.
Meanwhile the Mediterranean states nerved themselves for a final
effort. Venice contributed 81 galleys, the Pope sent 36, and Spain,
30. Later the Emperor sent 50 transports with 10,000 soldiers,
and 49 galleys, together with a number of large sailing ships.
Venice also added 14 sailing ships of war, or "nefs," and Doria
22; these formed a special squadron. The Venetian nefs were headed
by Condalmiero in his flagship the _Galleon of Venice_, the most
formidable warship in the Mediterranean, and the precursor of a
revolution in naval architecture and naval tactics.
[Illustration: 16TH CENTURY GALLEY]
Although the sailing ship was coming more and more into favor because
of the discoveries across the Atlantic, the galley was the man
of war of this period. The dromons of the Eastern empire, with
their stout build and two banks of oars, had given way to a long,
narrow vessel with a single bank of oars which had been developed
by men who lived on the shores of the sheltered lagoons of the
Adriatic. The prime characteristic of this type was its mobility.
For the pirate whose business it was to lie in wait and dash out
on a merchantman, this quality of mobility--independence of wind
and speed of movement--was of chief importance. Similarly, in order
to combat the pirate it was necessary to possess the same
characteristic. Of course, as in all the days of rowed ships, this
freedom of movement was limited by the physical exhaustion of the
rowers. In the ships of Greek and Roman days these men had some
protection from the weapons of the enemy and from the weather,
but in the 16th century galley, whether Turkish or Christian, they
were chained naked to their benches day and night, with practically
nothing to shelter them from the weather or from the weapons of
an enemy. So frightful were the hardships of the life that the
rowers were almost always captives, or felons who worked out their
sentences on the rowers' bench. An important difference between
the galley of this period and the earlier types of rowed ship is
the fact that in the galley there was but one row of oars on a
side, but these oars were very long and manned by four or five men
apiece.
A typical galley was about 180 feet over all with a beam of 19
feet and a depth of hold of about 7-1/2 feet. A single deck sloped
from about the water line to a structure that ran fore and aft
amidships, about six feet wide, which served as a gangway between
forecastle and poop and gave access to the hold. The forecastle
carried the main battery of guns, and was closed in below so as to
provide quarters for the fighting men. The poop had a deck house
and a smaller battery; this deck also was closed in, furnishing
quarters for the officers. There were two or three masts, lateen
rigged, adorned in peace or war with the greatest profusion of
banners and streamers. Indeed huge sums of money were expended on
the mere ornament of these war galleys, particularly in the elaborate
carvings that adorned the stern and prow.
In the conflict of Christian and Moslem, when Constantinople was
the capital of Christendom, Greek fire on two critical occasions
routed the Saracens. This substance was never understood in western
Europe, and for centuries the secret was carefully preserved in
the eastern capital. In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries,
it was used by the Moslem against the Christian, but the discovery
of gunpowder soon made the earlier substance obsolete. In the 16th
century cannon had already reached considerable dimensions, but in
a naval battle between galleys these weapons were not used after
the first volley or so. The tactics were little different from
those of the day of the trireme, consisting simply of ramming, and
fighting at close quarters with arquebus, bows, pike, and sword.
Twenty feet from the bows of every galley projected her metal beak,
and all her guns pointed forward; hence in the naval tactics of
the period everything turned on a head-on attack. The battle line,
therefore, was line abreast. For the same reasons a commander had
to fear an attack on his flank, and he maneuvered usually to get
at least one flank protected by the shore. The battle line in the
days of the galley could be dressed as accurately as a file of
soldiers, but the fighting was settled in a close mêlée in which
all formation was lost from the moment of collision between the
two fleets.
_The Campaign of Prevesa_
Such were the men of war and the tactics common to Christian and
corsair during the 16th century. While the Christians were slowly
collecting their armada, Barbarossa, with a force of 122 galleys,
set out to catch his enemy in detail if he could. Pirate as he
was, the old ruffian had a clear strategic grasp of what he might
do with a force that was inferior to the fleet collecting against
him. The Christians were to mobilize at Corfu. The Papal squadron
had collected in the Gulf of Arta, and Barbarossa made for it. By
sheer luck just before he arrived it had moved to the rendezvous.
If he had followed it up immediately, he might have crushed both
the Papal and Venetian contingents, because Doria and the Spanish
fleet had not yet arrived; but apparently he felt uncertain as
to just how far off these reënforcements were and therefore did
not attempt the stroke. Instead, he took up a defensive position
in the Gulf of Arta, exactly where Antony had collected his fleet
before the battle of Actium.
In September (1538) the Christian fleet under Doria left Corfu and
crossed to the Gulf. Barbarossa had drawn up his force in battle
array inside the entrance, under the guns of the Turkish fortress
at Prevesa. Since this entrance is obstructed by a bar with too
little water for Doria's heavier ships, he lay outside. Thus the
two fleets faced each other, each waiting for the other to make
the next move. For the first time in their careers the greatest
admiral on the Christian side was face to face with the greatest on
the Moslem side. Both were old men, Doria over seventy and Barbarossa
eighty-two. The stage was set for another decisive battle on the scene
of Actium. The town of Prevesa stood on the site of Octavius's camp,
and again East and West faced each other for the mastery of the sea.
With the vastly greater strength of the Christian fleet, and the
known skill of its leader, everything pointed to an overwhelming
victory for the Cross. What followed is one of the most amazing
stories in history.
Having the interior lines and the smooth anchorage, Barbarossa
had only to watch his enemy go to pieces in the open roadstead
in trying to maintain a blockade. His officers, however, scorned
such a policy, and, being appointees of the Sultan and far from
subordinate in spirit to their chief, they were finally able to
force his hand and compel him to offer battle to the Christians
by leaving the security of the gulf and the fortress and going
out into the open, exactly where Doria wanted him. Accordingly
on the 27th of September, the Turkish fleet sailed out to offer
battle. It happened that Doria had gone ten miles away to Sessola
for anchorage, and the _Galleon of Venice_ lay becalmed right in
the path of the advancing fleet. Condalmiero sent word for help,
and Doria ordered him to begin fighting, assuring him that he would
soon be reënforced.
The Turkish galleys, advancing in a crescent formation, soon enveloped
the lonely ship. Her captain ordered his crew to lie down on her
deck while he alone stood, in full armor, a target to the host of
Moslems who pushed forward in their galleys anxious for the honor
of capturing this great ship. Condalmiero ordered his gunners to
hold their fire until the enemy were within arquebus range. Then
the broadsides of the galleon blazed and the surrounding galleys
crumpled and sank. A single shot weighing 120 pounds sank a galley
with practically all on board. The signal to retreat was given
and speedily obeyed.
Thereafter there were to be no more rushing tactics. Barbarossa
organized his galleys in squadrons of twenty, which advanced, one
after the other, delivered their fire, and retired. All the rest
of the day, from about noon till sunset, this strange conflict
between the single galleon and the Turkish fleet went on. The ship
was cumbered with her fallen spars; she had lost thirteen men killed
and forty wounded. The losses would have been far greater but for
the extraordinarily thick sides of the galleon. After sundown the
Turkish fleet appeared to be drawing up in line for the last assault.
On the _Galleon of Venice_ there was no thought of surrender; the
ammunition was almost spent and the men were exhausted with their
tremendous efforts, but they stood at their posts determined to
defend their ship to the last man.
Then, to their astonishment Barbarossa drew off, sending some of
his galleys to pursue and cut off certain isolated Christian units,
but leaving the field to the Venetian galleon. Meanwhile, during all
that long, hot afternoon the great fleet of Andrea Doria, instead
of pressing forward to the relief of the _Galleon of Venice_ and
crushing Barbarossa with its great superiority in numbers, was
going through strange parade maneuvers about ten miles away. Doria's
explanation was that he was trying to decoy Barbarossa out into
deeper water where the guns of the nefs could be used, but there is
no other conclusion to be reached than that Doria did not want to
fight. Fortune that day offered him everything for an overwhelming
victory, one that might have ranked with the decisive actions of the
world's history, and he threw it away under circumstances peculiarly
disgraceful and humiliating. Never did commander in chief so richly
deserve to be shot on his own deck. The following day as a fair
wind blew for Corfu, Doria spread sail and retired from the gulf,
while Barbarossa, roaring with laughter, called on his men to witness
the cowardice of this Christian admiral.
The victory lay with Barbarossa. With a greatly inferior force
he had challenged Doria and attacked. Doria had not only declined
the challenge but fled back to Corfu. No wonder the Sultan ordered
the cities of his domain to be illuminated. Barbarossa's prizes
included two galleys and five nefs, but he, too, had failed in
an inexplicable fashion in drawing off from the assault on the
_Galleon of Venice_ at the end of the day's fighting. It is with
her, with the gallant Condalmiero and his men, that all the honor of
the day belongs. Nothing in the adventurous 16th century surpasses
their splendid, disciplined valor on this occasion.
The astonishing powers of resistance and the deadly effect of the
broadsides of the _Galleon of Venice_ displayed in a long and successful
fight against an entire fleet of galleys should have had the effect
of making a revolution in naval architecture fifty years before
that change actually occurred. But men of war of those days were
built after the models of Venetian architects, and the latter clung
doggedly to the galley. They overlooked the great defensive and
offensive powers of the galleon displayed in this story and saw
only the fact that she was becalmed and unable to move.
Doria's failure left conditions in the Mediterranean as bad as
ever. Barbarossa died at the age of ninety, but one of the last
acts of his life was to ransom a follower of his, Dragut, Pasha
of Tripoli, who had served under him at Prevesa and, having been
captured two years later, served four years as a galley slave on
the ship of Gian Andrea Doria, the grandnephew and heir of Andrea
Doria. Dragut soon assumed the leadership laid down by Barbarossa,
his master, fighting first the elder Doria and then his namesake
with great skill and audacity. For years the Knights of Malta had
been a thorn in the side of the Moslems who roamed the sea, and
in 1565 a gigantic effort was made by the Sultan, together with
his tributaries from the Barbary states, to wipe out this naval
stronghold. The siege that followed was distinguished by the most
reckless courage and the most desperate fighting on both sides. It
extended from May 18 to September 8, costing the Christians 8000
and the Moslems 30,000 lives. In the midst of the siege Dragut
himself was slain, and the conduct of the siege fell into less
capable hands. Finally the Turks withdrew.
The death of Soliman the Magnificent, in 1566, brought to the head
of the Turkish state a ruler known by the significant name, Selim
the Drunkard. Weak and debauched as he was, nevertheless he aspired
to add to the Turkish dominions as his father had done. Accordingly,
he informed Venice that she must evacuate Cyprus. Previous to this
time Venice had succeeded, by means of heavy bribes to the Sultan's
ministers, in keeping her hold on this important island, but this
policy only tempted further arrogance on the part of the Turk.
Further, the time was propitious for such a stroke because Venice
was impoverished by bad harvests and the loss of her naval arsenal
by fire, Spain was occupied in troubles with the Moors, and France,
torn with civil war, wanted to keep peace with the Sultan at any
price. During the terrible siege of Malta Venice had remained neutral;
now that the danger came home to her she cried for help, and not
unnaturally there were those who sneered at her in this crisis
and bade her save herself.
The Pope, however, had long been anxious to organize a league of
Christian peoples to win back the Mediterranean to the Cross and draw
a line beyond which the Crescent should never pass. In this plight
of Venice he saw an opportunity, because hitherto the persistent
neutrality or the unwillingness of the Venetians to fight the Turk to
the finish had been one of the chief obstacles to concerted action.
He therefore pledged his own resources to Venice and attempted
to collect allies by the appeal to the Cross. The results were
discouraging, but a force of Spanish, Papal, and Venetian galleys
was finally collected and after endless delays dispatched to the
scene in the summer of 1570.
Meanwhile the Turks had been pressing their attack on Cyprus and
were besieging the city of Nicosia. If the Christians had been
moved by any united spirit they could have relieved Nicosia and
struck a heavy blow at the Turkish fleet, which lay unready and
stripped of its men in the harbor. But Gian Doria, who inherited
from his great uncle his great dislike of Venetians, and who probably
had secret instructions from his master, Philip II, to help as
little as possible, succeeded in blocking any vigorous move on the
part of the other commanders. Finally, after a heated quarrel, he
sailed back to Sicily with his entire fleet, and the rest followed.
The allies had gone no nearer Cyprus than the port of Suda in Crete.
The whole expedition, therefore, came to nothing.
In September Nicosia fell to the Turk, who then turned to the conquest
of Famagusta, the last stronghold of the Venetians on the island.
Bragadino, the commander of the besieged forces, fought against
desperate odds with a courage and skill worthy of the best traditions
of his native city, hoping to repulse the Turks until help could
arrive. But Doria's defection in 1570 decided the fate of the city
the following year. After fifty-five days of siege, with no resources
left, Bragadino was compelled, on August 4, 1571, to accept an offer
of surrender on honorable terms. The Turkish commander, enraged
at the loss of 50,000 men, which Bragadino's stubborn defense had
cost, no sooner had the Venetians in his power than he massacred
officers and men and flayed their commander alive. This news did
not reach the Christians, however, until their second expedition
was almost at grips with the Turks at Lepanto.
_The Campaign of Lepanto_
Undismayed by the failure of his first attempt, Pope Pius had
immediately gone to work to reorganize his Holy League. He had
to overcome the mutual hatred and mistrust that lay between Spain
and Venice, aggravated by the recent conduct of Doria, but neither
the Pope nor Venice could do without the help of Spain. There was
much bickering between the envoys in the Papal chambers, and it
was not till February, 1571, that the terms of the new enterprise
were agreed upon. By this contract no one of the powers represented
was to make a separate peace with the Porte. The costs were divided
into six parts, of which Spain undertook three, Venice, two, and
the Pope, one. Don Juan, the illegitimate brother of Philip II, was
to be commander in chief. Although only twenty-four, this prince
had won a military reputation in suppressing the Moorish rebellion
in Spain, and, having been recognized by Philip as a half brother,
he had a princely rank that would subordinate the claims of all the
rival admirals. Finally, the rendezvous was appointed at Messina.
The aged Venetian admiral, Veniero, had been compelled by the situation
in the east to divide his force into two parts, one at Crete, and
the other under himself at Corfu. By the time he received orders
to proceed to the rendezvous, he learned that Ali, the corsair
king of Algiers, known better by his nickname of "Uluch" Ali, was
operating at the mouth of the Adriatic with a large force. To reach
Messina with his divided fleet, Veniero ran the risk of being caught
by Ali and destroyed in detail, but the situation was so critical
that he took the risk and succeeded in slipping past the corsair
undiscovered. In permitting this escape, and in fact in allowing
all the other units of the Christian fleet to assemble at Messina,
Ali missed a golden opportunity to destroy the whole force before
it ever collected. Instead, he continued his ravages on the coasts
of the Adriatic, bent only on plunder. He carried his raids almost
to the lagoons of Venice itself, and indeed might have attacked
the city had he not been hampered by a shortage of men.
Although the Turks were having their own way, unopposed, and the
situation was growing daily more critical, the Christian fleet was
slow in assembling. For a whole month Veniero waited in Messina
for the arrival of Don Juan and the Spanish squadrons. Philip,
apparently, used one pretext after another to delay the prince,
and once on his way Don Juan had to tarry at every stage of the
journey to witness ceremonial fêtes held in his honor. Philip acted
in good faith as far as his preparations went, but he wanted to
save his galleys for use against the Moors of the Barbary coast,
which was nearer the ports of Spain, and was indifferent to the
outcome of the quarrel between Venice and the Porte. Undoubtedly
Doria and the other Spanish officers were fully informed of their
royal master's desires in this expedition as in the one of the
year before. They were to avoid battle if they could.
On August 25 Don Juan arrived at Messina and was joyously received
by the city and the fleet. Nevertheless, it was the 12th of September
before the decision was finally reached to seek out the Turkish
fleet and offer battle. Fortunately Don Juan was a high-spirited
youth who shared none of his brother's half-heartedness; he went
to work to organize the discordant elements under his command into
as much of a unit as he could, and to imbue them with the idea of
aggressive action. In this spirit he was seconded by thousands
of young nobles and soldiers of fortune from Spain and Italy, who
had flocked to his standard like the knight errants of the age of
chivalry, burning to distinguish themselves against the infidel.
Among these, oddly enough, was a young Spaniard, Cervantes, who
was destined in later years to laugh chivalry out of Europe by
his immortal "Don Quixote."
In order to knit together the three elements, Spanish, Venetian,
and Papal, Don Juan so distributed their forces that no single
squadron could claim to belong to any one nation. As the Venetian
galleys lacked men, he put aboard them Spanish and Italian infantry.
Before leaving Messina, he had given every commander written
instructions as to his cruising station and his place in the battle
line. The fighting formation was to consist of three squadrons of
the line and one of reserve. The left wing was to be commanded
by the Venetian Barbarigo; the center, by Don Juan himself, in the
flagship _Real_, with Colonna, the Papal commander on his right and
Veniero, the Venetian commander, on his left, in their respective
flagships. The right wing was intrusted to Doria, and the reserve,
amounting to about thirty galleys, was under the Spaniard, Santa
Cruz. In front of each squadron of the line two Venetian galleasses
were to take station in order to break up the formation of the
Turkish advance. The total fighting force consisted of 202 galleys,
six galleasses, and 28,000 infantrymen besides sailors and oarsmen.
The Venetian galleasses deserve special mention because they attracted
considerable attention by the part they subsequently played in
the action. Sometimes the word was applied to any specially large
galley, but these represented something different from anything
in either Christian or Turkish fleets. They were an attempt to
reach a combination of galleon and galley, possessing the bulk,
strength, and heavy armament of the former, together with the oar
propulsion of the latter to render them independent of the wind.
But like most, if not all, compromise types, the galleass was
short-lived. It was clumsy and slow, being neither one thing nor
the other. Most of the time on the cruise these galleasses had
to be towed in order to keep up with the rest of the fleet. It
is interesting to note that, despite the example of the _Galleon
of Venice_ at Prevesa, there was not a single galleon in the whole
force.
On September 16 the start from Messina was made. The fleet crossed
to the opposite shore of the Adriatic, creeping along the coast and
in the lee of the islands after the manner of oar driven vessels
that were unable to face a fresh breeze or a moderate sea. Delayed
by unfavorable winds, it was not till October 6 that it arrived
at the group of rocky islets lying just north of the opening of
the Gulf of Corinth, or Lepanto[1] where the Turkish fleet was
known to be mobilized. Meanwhile trouble had broken out among the
Christians. Serious fighting had taken place between Venetians and
Spaniards, and Veniero, without referring the case to Don Juan,
had hanged a Spanish soldier who had been impudent to him, thus
enraging the commander in chief. In a word, the various elements
were nearly at the point of fighting each other before the object
of their crusade was even sighted.
[Footnote 1: Lepanto is the modern name of Naupaktis, the naval
base of Athens in the gulf. It had been a Venetian stronghold,
but fell to the Turks in 1499. The name Lepanto is given to both
the town and the gulf.]
At dawn of the 7th the lookout on the _Real_ sighted the van of
the Turkish fleet coming out to the attack, and this news had a
salutary effect. Don Juan called a council of war, silenced those
like Doria who still counseled avoiding battle, and then in a swift
sailing vessel went through the fleet exhorting officers and men
to do their utmost. The sacrament was then administered to all,
the galley slaves freed from their chains, and the standard of
the Holy League, the figure of the Crucified Savior, was raised
to the truck of the flagship.
As the Christians streamed down from the straits to meet their
enemy, they faced a serious peril. The Turks were advancing in
full array aided by a wind at their backs; the same wind naturally
was against the Christians, who had to toil at their oars with great
labor to make headway. If the wind held there was every prospect
that the Turks would be able to fall upon their enemy before Don
Juan could form his line of battle. Fortunately, toward noon the
wind shifted so as to help the Christians and retard the Turks.
This shift just enabled most of the squadrons to fall into their
appointed stations before the collision. Two of the galleasses,
however, were not able to reach their posts in advance of the right
wing before the mêlée began, and the right wing itself, though it
had ample time to take position, kept on its course to the south,
leaving the rest of the fleet behind. To Turk and Christian alike
this move on the part of Doria meant treachery, for which Doria's
previous conduct gave ample color, but there was no time to draw
back or reorganize the line.
The Turkish force, numbering 222 galleys, swept on to the attack,
also in three divisions, stretched out in a wide crescent. The
commander in chief, Ali Pasha, led the center, his right was commanded
by Sirocco, the Viceroy of Egypt, and his left by "Uluch" Ali. This
arrangement should have brought Ali, the greatest of the Moslem
seafighters of his day, face to face with Doria, the most celebrated
admiral in Christendom. The two opposing lines swung together with a
furious plying of oars and a tumult of shouting. The four galleasses
stationed well in front of the Christian battle line opened an
effective fire at close quarters on the foremost Turkish galleys
as they swept past. In trying to avoid the heavy artillery of these
floating fortresses, the Turks fell into confusion, losing their
battle array almost at the very moment of contact, and masking
the fire of many of their ships. This was an important service
to the credit of the galleasses, but as they were too unwieldy to
maneuver readily they seem to have taken no further part in the
action.
The first contact took place about noon between Barbarigo's and
Sirocco's squadrons. The Venetian had planned to rest his left
flank so close to the shore as to prevent the Turks from enveloping
it, but Sirocco, who knew the depth of water better, was able to
pour a stream of galleys between the end of Barbarigo's line and
the coast so that the Christians at this point found themselves
attacked in front and rear. For a while it looked as if the Turks
would win, but the Christians fought with the courage of despair.
There was no semblance of line left; only a mêlée of ships laid
so close to each other as to form almost a continuous platform
over which the fighting raged hand to hand. Both the leaders fell.
Barbarigo was mortally wounded, and Sirocco was killed when his
flagship was stormed. The loss of the Egyptian flagship and commander
seemed to decide the struggle at this point. The Christian slaves,
freed from the rowers' benches, were supplied with arms and joined
in the fighting with the fury of vengeance on their masters. A
backward movement set in among the Turkish ships; then many headed
for the shore to escape.
Meanwhile, shortly after the Christian left had been engaged the
two centers crashed together. Such was the force of the impact
that the beak of Ali Pasha's galley drove as far as the fourth
rowing bench of the _Real_. Instantly a fury of battle burst forth
around the opposing flagships. Attack and counter attack between
Spanish infantry and Turkish Janissaries swayed back and forth
across from one galley to another amid a terrific uproar. Once
the _Real_ was nearly taken, but Colonna jammed the bows of his
galley alongside and saved the situation by a counter attack. On
the other side of the flagship Veniero was also at one time in
grave peril but was saved by the timely assistance of his comrades.
Though wounded in the leg, this veteran of seventy fought throughout
the action as stoutly as the youngest soldier.
The prompt action of Colonna turned the tide in the center, for
after clearing the Turks from the deck of the _Real_, the Christians,
now reënforced, made a supreme effort that swept the length of
Ali Pasha's galley and left the Turkish commander in chief among
the slain. In fighting of this character no quarter was given;
of the 400 men on the Turkish flagship not one was spared. Don
Juan immediately hoisted the banner of the League to the masthead
of the captured ship. This sign of victory broke the spirit of
the Turks and nerved the Christians to redoubled efforts. As on
the left wing so in the center the offensive now passed to the
allies. Thus after two hours' fighting the Turks were already beaten
on left and center, though fighting still went on hotly in tangled
and scattered groups of ships.
[Illustration: BATTLE OF LEPANTO, OCT. 7. 1571
Formation of the two fleets just before contact, about 11 a. m.]
On the Christian right, however, the situation was different. Doria
had from the beginning left the right center "in the air" by sailing
away to the south. He explained this singular conduct afterwards by
saying that he noticed Ali moving seaward as if to try an enveloping
movement round the Christians' southern flank, and therefore moved
to head him off. However plausible this may be, the explanation did
not satisfy Doria's captains, who obeyed his signals with indignant
rage. At all events Ali had a considerably larger force than Doria,
and after the latter had drawn away so far as to create a wide
gap between his own squadron and the center, Ali suddenly swung
his galleys about in line and fell upon the exposed flank, leaving
Doria too far away to interfere. The Algerian singled out a detached
group of about fifteen galleys, among which was the flagship of
the Knights of Malta. No Christian flag was so hated as the banner
of this Order, and the Turks fell upon these ships with shouts
of triumph. One after another was taken and it began to look as
if Ali would soon roll up the entire flank and pluck victory from
defeat.
But Santa Cruz, who was still laboring through the straits when
the battle began, was now in a position to help. After an hour's
fighting with all the advantage on Ali's side, Santa Cruz arrived
with his reserve squadron and turned the scale. By this time, too,
Doria managed to reach the scene with a part of his squadron. Thus
Ali found himself outnumbered and in danger of capture. Signaling
retreat, he collected a number of his galleys and, boldly steering
through the field of battle, escaped to lay at the feet of the
Sultan the captured flag of the Knights of Malta. Some thirty-five
others of his force made their way safely back to Lepanto.
The fighting did not end till evening. By that time the Christians
had taken 117 galleys and 20 galliots, and sunk or burnt some fifty
other ships of various sorts. Ten thousand Turks were captured and
many thousands of Christian slaves rescued. The Christians lost
7500 men; the Turks, about 30,000. It was an overwhelming victory.
As far as the tactics go, Lepanto was, like Salamis, an infantry
battle on floating platforms. It was fought and won by the picked
infantrymen of Spain and Italy; the day of seamanship had not yet
arrived. For the conduct of the most distinguished admiral on the
Christian side, Gian Andrea Doria, little justification can be
found. Even if we accept his excuse at its face value, the event
proved his folly. It is strange that in this, the supreme victory
of the Cross over the Crescent on the sea, a Doria should have
tarnished his reputation so foully, even as his great-uncle Andrea
had tarnished his in the battle of Prevesa. It seems as if in both, as
Genoese, the hatred of Venice extinguished every other consideration
of loyalty to Christendom.
What were the consequences of Lepanto, and in what sense can it
be called a decisive battle? The question at first seems baffling.
Overwhelming as was the defeat of the Turks, Ali had another fleet
ready the next spring and was soon ravaging the seas again. Twice
there came an opportunity for the two fleets to meet for another
battle, but Ali declined the challenge. After Lepanto he seemed
unwilling, without a great superiority, to risk another close action
and contented himself with a "fleet in being." In this new attitude
toward the Christians lies the hint to the answer. The significance
of Lepanto lies in its moral effect. Never before had the Turkish
fleet been so decisively beaten in a pitched battle. The fame of
Lepanto rang through Europe and broke the legend of Turkish
invincibility on the sea.
The material results, it must be admitted, were worse than nothing
at the time. In 1573 Don Juan was amazed and infuriated to learn
that Venice, contrary to the terms of the Holy League, had secretly
arranged a separate peace with the Sultan. The terms she accepted
were those of a beaten combatant. Venice agreed to the loss of
Cyprus, paid an indemnity of 300,000 ducats, trebled her tribute
for the use of Zante as a trading post, and restored to the Turk
all captures made on the Albanian and Dalmatian coast. Apparently
the Venetian had to have his trade at any price, including honor.
At this news Don Juan tore down the standard of the allies and
raised the flag of Castile and Aragon. In two years and after a
brilliant victory, the eternal Holy League, which was pledged to
last forever, fell in pieces.
As for Venice, her ignoble policy brought her little benefit. She
steadily declined thereafter as a commercial and naval power. Her
old markets were in the grip of the Turk, and the new discoveries of
ocean routes to the east--beyond the reach of the Moslem,--diverted
the course of trade away from the Mediterranean, which became,
more and more, a mere backwater of the world's commerce. In fact,
it was not until the cutting of the Suez Canal that the inland
sea regained its old time importance.
In the long unsuccessful struggle of Christian against the Turk
Venice must bear the chief blame, for she had the means and the
opportunity to conquer if she had chosen the better part. And yet
the story of this chapter shows also that the rest of Christendom
was not blameless. If Christians in the much extolled Age of Faith
had shown as much unity of spirit as the Infidels, the rule of the
Turk would not have paralyzed Greece, the Balkans, the islands of
the Ægean, and the coasts of Asia Minor for nearly five centuries.
REFERENCES
LA GUERRE DE CHYPRE ET LA BATAILLE DE LéPANTE, J. P. Jurien de
la Gravière, 1888.
By the same author, DORIA ET BARBEROUSSE, 1886.
HISTORY OF THE REIGN OF PHILIP THE SECOND (vol. III.), W. H.
Prescott, 1858.
SEA WOLVES OF THE MEDITERRANEAN, E. Hamilton Currey. This
contains a full bibliography.
THE NAVY OF VENICE, Alethea Wiel, 1910.
THE EASTERN QUESTION (chap. V.), J. A. R. Marriott, 1917.
BARBARY CORSAIRS, Story of the Nations Series, Lane-Poole, 1890.
DRAKE AND THE TUDOR NAVY (Introduction), J. S. Corbett, 1898.
GEOGRAPHY AND WORLD POWER, James Fairgrieve, 1917.