The Knights of St. John

by Augusta Theodosia Drane

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.