The Knights of St. John

by Augusta Theodosia Drane

The course of our narrative has now brought us to the first of those remarkable sieges which constitute the chief interest in the history of the Knights of St. John. The circumstances briefly detailed in the foregoing chapter will have enabled the reader in some measure to appreciate the devotion and gallantry of their resistance, and the peril of their position when the vast armament of the Ottomans bore down on Rhodes,—that little island which lay alone amid the wreck of Christianity in the East, like the single rock which lifts its head above the raging waters of a mighty deluge. But the event itself stands out with so much prominence in the annals of Christian chivalry—it is so honourable to the illustrious society whose exploits we have undertaken to narrate, and especially to the commander whose election to the grand-mastership we have just recorded, that our story must take something of a less desultory character; and though we cannot pretend to offer a finished portrait of every great man who appeared in an order of heroes, his name at least deserves a different kind of notice.

Peter D’Aubusson was descended from one of the most illustrious houses of France; Norman in its origin, and allied to the royal Norman blood. He was a soldier from his youth, but a man of letters also; and, to use the expression of the French historian, “the extent and facility of his mind sufficed for every thing.” The popularity of his name, great as it was in his order, was even more enthusiastically felt among the populace of Rhodes. The extraordinary joy manifested by them at his election had something in it far different from the ordinary popular rejoicings at a coronation—it was from the heart; and men no longer feared Mahomet now that D’Aubusson was at the head of the Knights of St. John. His first act was a careful inspection of the entire island in person; and on his return, he summoned all the knights once more to assemble in Rhodes, and in the chapter general of the following spring was invested with absolute power during the ensuing siege, which all now felt to be close at hand. Indeed, it was a remarkable testimony to the extraordinary capacity of this great man, that an order so jealous for the preservation of its constitutional privileges voluntarily created him its dictator, not only in military, but also in financial and political affairs. He held an irresponsible power, yet from no act of usurpation on his own part; nor do we ever find him taking advantage of the boundless confidence of his subjects to prolong or extend his authority; but, on the contrary, he himself restrained it, and after holding the administration of the treasury for three years and regulating its disorders, he refused to retain it longer, but gave it back into the hands of the ordinary officers of the finance. His genius was as universal as it was commanding. He was at the head of every department: he made his own gunpowder, and directed the building of his own ships; he surpassed the first engineers of his age in a practical knowledge of the science of defence, was an excellent chemist, and assiduous in his personal services in the hospital, where he showed that he thoroughly understood the treatment of the sick.

Hitherto the various summonses addressed by previous grand masters to the knights of distant provinces had produced but little result; but the name of D’Aubusson gave a magical effect to his commands. From every quarter the knights flocked in with singular promptitude, and many of the European sovereigns contributed large sums to facilitate their journey. Mahomet saw that there was at least little chance of taking Rhodes and its defenders by surprise; for which reason he tried every means of throwing the grand master off his guard. Among these were pretended treaties for truce, and the despatch of a multitude of spies and feigned embassies; and lastly, an attempt to introduce dissensions among the people of Rhodes, and win them over from the cause of the order. The sultan doubtless thought it a surpassing stroke of policy to suggest to the Rhodian Greeks, as a lure, the unlimited exercise of their religion free from all Latin domination. But the result showed that he knew little of the state with which he had to deal. There was no jealousy of sect or party known in the religion of Rhodes; and every effort to sow dissension among the natives was met by the indignant cry, “We are all of one belief! here there is neither Greek nor Latin; for we are Christians, the servants of Jesus Christ and of His blessed Mother!” This unity of religious belief had ever been one of the chief blessings and privileges enjoyed under the rule of the order; but it was especially and vigorously protected by D’Aubusson, who, with the utmost zeal, guarded against any thing that could introduce the fatal seeds of schism or dissension; and was accustomed to say that he reigned over Christians, not Latins or Greeks, and that even the schismatics, if there were any such, should be treated with strict impartiality. The fact was, however, that, with individual exceptions, the adherents to the Greek rite in Rhodes were in communion with their Latin brethren; for the large and wise policy of the grand masters had still succeeded in preserving alive that union which, settled by the Florentine Council, had never existed elsewhere but in theory and in name.

If Rhodes was beautiful to the eye and captivating to the imagination, when first Villaret and his companions set foot upon its shores, much more so was it now, when the lapse of a hundred and seventy years had made it the centre of southern civilisation, and the riches of a long commercial prosperity had been lavished on its adornment and the cultivation of the domestic arts. All around the grand and battlemented walls of the capital there spread in sweet contrast gardens, villas, and vineyards; most verdant hills darkened with woods of pomegranates and oranges; a rich suburban district,—the glory of a city in times of peace, and its worst enemy in the perils of a siege. All about this garden-world there sparkled streams and fountains of bright and delicious water; there was no water like that of Rhodes, nor any country to compare to its rich and beautiful soil, at least in the mind of its inhabitants. “It was,” says one of its own citizens,[12] “the favourite, sweetest island of the sun, where the air was ever pure, and the country ever smiling.”

The first act of D’Aubusson, on his investiture by the chapter with the supreme and absolute command, was one of stern but most necessary sacrifice. The suburbs were to be destroyed; the trees and gardens cut down and wasted; and even the churches razed to the ground, so as to prevent the enemy from finding shelter under the city-walls. The Rhodians watched the process of destruction with tears of regret, so very dear to their hearts was the beauty of their capital; but all knew that the calamity was inevitable, and so, silencing their grief, they lent their aid to make a desert of their paradise, and spared nothing; only, says Vertot, “before destroying the church of our Lady of Philermos, they carried the image of the Blessed Virgin thence to the principal church within the city-walls; for it had been preserved from time immemorial, and was greatly revered.” All the fields were now laid waste, and the forage carried into the city; many of those beautiful crystal springs were choked up and rendered useless; in short, there was nothing left in the island which could furnish support to the enemy’s troops, or which the barbarians could destroy.

Over all these details, and a thousand more besides, D’Aubusson’s watchful superintendence presided; and combining the quick eye of a military commander with the tenderness of a paternal sovereign, he insisted on personally seeing that every individual among the citizens, as well as the knights, was properly provided and cared for; and though he demanded great sacrifices from all, there was nothing of sternness or indifference in his manner of exacting them. Rather he found the means of inspiring all around him with his own heroic and chivalric spirit. The Rhodians were not a warlike people, yet they caught fire from their sovereign’s animating words and noble example. And as to the knights, how could they resist those grand and lofty appeals? “I summon you,” he writes to the absent brethren, “in virtue of those solemn vows you have made to the God of heaven, and at the foot of His altar. It is your mother calls you,—a mother who has nursed you in her bosom, and is now in danger. Shall a single knight be found to abandon her to the rage of the barbarian? I will not think it; it would be unworthy of the nobility of your origin, and still less of the piety and valour of your profession.” He addressed the chapter in the same exalted strain: “Soldiers of Christ,” he said, “in a war so holy as this, it is Christ Himself who is at our head; fear not, for He will never abandon those who fight but for His interests. In vain does the impious Mahomet, who recognises no God but power, threaten to exterminate us: his troops may be more numerous, but ours at least are no vile slaves like his; I look round me, and I see only men of noble and illustrious blood, brought up in virtue, and sworn to conquer or die, and whose piety and courage might alone be the pledges of a certain victory.” In fact, besides the members of the order, there were a considerable number of volunteers collected at Rhodes from all nations, particularly from France: all of them gentlemen of high birth and renown, filled with a generous enthusiasm, and a devotion to the cause of the order and to its heroic chief. Amongst them was D’Aubusson’s elder brother, the Viscount de Monteuil, who received a high command; and throughout the siege no jealousy ever arose between these volunteers and the knights, but rather a generous and friendly rivalry, and a heartiness of obedience and co-operation, that could only have proceeded from the noblest spirit, inspired and kept alive by the admirable policy of the grand master. There was something very remarkable in this affectionate unity of the defenders of Rhodes, presenting so lovely a contrast to the treachery and dissensions of other sieges. “It was to be found,” to use the words of the French author, “in the citizens equally with the knights; Greek and Latin, all were alike; and it passed even to the women and children, who vied with one another in working at the fortifications which D’Aubusson had ordered to be commenced.”

The city of Rhodes stood on the declivity of a wooded hill on the border of the sea; it was surrounded by a double wall flanked by large towers, and beyond the wall was a deep and broad ditch. There were two ports; the first of which, defended by a tower called Fort St. Elmo, served for the smaller galleys, while the second, constructed for larger vessels, had two defences, known as Fort St. John and Fort St. Michael.[13] By the side of this latter port were two small gulfs, the fortifications of which were so contrived as to guard the entrance of the ports. Two miles from the city rose the hill of St. Stephen, and, on the other side, Mount Philermos,[14] celebrated for that shrine of our Lady to which allusion has been made, and which was a place of pilgrimage not only to the islanders but to all the neighbouring states.

It was on the 23d of May 1480, that the great fleet of the infidels at length appeared in sight of Rhodes. The signal of its approach was given from the watch-tower on Mount St. Stephen, and thither the grand master repaired to survey the force destined for the conquest of the island and the destruction of the order. It was a grand and terrific sight; a hundred and sixty large vessels of war, and a very cloud of galleys, feluccas, and transports, having on board a vast body of troops as well as artillery of most formidable size. The sea was darkened for miles by this immense armament; and the landing was soon commenced, under favour of a heavy fire from the enemy’s artillery, with pomp and music, as though they had been victors coming to a conquered city. Despite the efforts of the knights, the hostile troops succeeded in intrenching themselves in the neighbourhood of Mount St. Stephen, and in landing their heavy artillery, consisting of 4000 pieces of cannon, some being of prodigious size and calibre, throwing balls of flint and marble nine palms in diameter, as D’Aubusson himself declares in his despatch to the German emperor, written after the siege. So soon as the artillery was landed and planted,—an operation which the knights were powerless to resist,—the storm of the cannonade began. For days together the walls and towers were battered by cannon and mortars with terrible effect; nine towers were overthrown, and whole streets demolished; but the chief attack was directed against the tower of St. Nicholas, situated on the extremity of the mole which defended the larger port. After resisting the furious bombardment for several days, during which it received the shock of no less than three hundred of these marble cannon-balls, the tower fell, and the sight was welcomed by the enemy with a kind of insane joy. But whilst they abandoned themselves to their exultation, the besieged set to work to construct a new defence on the mole itself, and labouring night and day, contrived a fortification of singular skill in the midst of the ruins, which they garrisoned with their bravest troops. This defence, devised by the engineering skill of D’Aubusson, resisted the utmost efforts of the Turks, who were driven off, after several furious assaults, with immense loss.

It is sad to find one of the most illustrious names of Christendom at the head of the infidel army; yet it was a Palæologus[15] who, under the name of Mesih Pasha, led the Turkish force. A prince of the imperial family of Greece, and born a Christian, he had renounced his faith to purchase life at the capture of Constantinople. His talents had raised him to the rank of admiral grand vizier in the sultan’s service; and the cause of the Cross had no deadlier enemy than this miserable renegade, who sought to secure the favour of his new master by an excess of fury against the Christian name. Other renegades were in the camp, one of whom, a German engineer, with a treachery worthy of an apostate, entered the town as a spy, and representing himself as a deserter from the Turkish camp, endeavoured to possess himself of the plan of the defences; but D’Aubusson’s quick vigilance detected the stratagem; and “Master George,” as he was called, found himself too closely watched to be able to escape.