THE KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN.
Commencement of the Order—The object of its institution—Its achievements in the Holy Land—Its settlement in Acre after the fall of Jerusalem—Description of Acre—The great Hospital and its traditions—Successes of the Saracens—Siege of Acre under Melec Seraf sultan of Egypt—The last assault—Massacre—The survivors of the Order take refuge in Cyprus.
Commencement of the Order—The object of its institution—Its achievements in the Holy Land—Its settlement in Acre after the fall of Jerusalem—Description of Acre—The great Hospital and its traditions—Successes of the Saracens—Siege of Acre under Melec Seraf sultan of Egypt—The last assault—Massacre—The survivors of the Order take refuge in Cyprus.
The order of the Knights Hospitallers of St. John[2]dates its origin from that heroic period of Christian chivalry when Jerusalem opened her gates to the arms of Godfrey de Bouillon. Whether or no its mixed military and religious character were coeval with its first establishment, or whether its singular constitution came to be gradually developed, as it was added to by successive masters, is a point of little consequence for us to decide. It is certain that at a very early period after its foundation it is to be found with both these characters united; and whilst the Hospital of St. John exercised that admirable charity which was the first condition of the order’s existence, the knights were winning on every field of Palestine the title bestowed on them by their Moslem enemies of the “heroes of the Christian armies.”
It is not our present purpose to set before the reader any account of those achievements of the order in theHoly Land, which properly belong to the wars of the Crusades, and cannot be separated from the history of that period: but, before taking up the narrative from the day when, driven from the walls of Acre, the shattered remnant of its heroic legions was tossing in a single bark on the waters of the Levant, as yet without a home in Europe,—a few remarks seem necessary, both to explain its constitution as a religious body, and its position at the moment when our story of its fortunes begins.
At the period when the military orders first sprang into existence, the road to the Holy Land was, as every one knows, the highway of Europe; and year by year crowds of pilgrims of all ranks came flocking to the Holy City, encountering innumerable perils on the way, and often arriving at their journey’s end in a state of extreme suffering and destitution. Now the object of the Order of St. John may very briefly be described if we say, that its members took on themselves the office of administering the hospitality of Christ: “Servants of the poor of Christ” was the title that they assumed; and this name of Christ’s poor was applied indiscriminately to all pilgrims and crusaders.
The ceremonies attendant on the reception of a knight had a peculiar significance, and strikingly illustrate the spirit of the order. The postulant presented himself with a lighted taper in his hand, and carrying his naked sword to be blessed by the priest. He had previously prepared himself by a general confession and the reception of holy communion. After blessing the sword, the priest returned it to him with these words: “Receive this holy sword in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, amen; and use it for thy own defence, and that of the Church of God, to the confusion of the enemies of Jesus Christ and of the Christian faith, and take heed that no human frailty move thee to strike any man with it unjustly.” Then he replaced it in the sheath, the priest saying as he girded himself: “Girdthyself with the sword of Jesus Christ; and remember that it is not with the sword, but with faith, that the saints have conquered kingdoms.” The knight then once more drew his sword, whilst these words were addressed to him: “Let the brilliancy of this sword represent to thee the brightness of faith; let its point signify hope, and its hilt charity. Use it for the Catholic faith, for justice, and for the consolation of widows and orphans: for this is the true faith and justification of a Christian knight.” Then he brandished it thrice in the name of the Holy Trinity, and the brethren proceeded to give him his golden spurs, saying: “Seest thou these spurs? They signify that as the horse fears them when he swerves from his duty, so shouldst thou fear to depart from thy post or from thy vows.” Then the mantle was thrown over him, and as they pointed to the cross of eight points embroidered on the left side, they said: “We wear this white cross as a sign of purity; wear it also within thy heart as well as outwardly, and keep it without soil or stain. The eight points are the signs of the eight beatitudes, which thou must ever preserve: viz. 1. spiritual joy; 2. to live without malice; 3. to weep over thy sins; 4. to humble thyself to those who injure thee; 5. to love justice; 6. to be merciful; 7. to be sincere and pure of heart; and 8. to suffer persecution.” Then he kissed the cross, and the mantle was fastened, whilst the ministering knight continued, “Take this cross and mantle in the name of the Holy Trinity, for the repose and salvation of thy soul, the defence of the Catholic faith, and the honour of our Lord Jesus Christ; and I place it on the left side near thy heart, that thou mayst love it, and that thy right hand may defend it, charging thee never to abandon it, since it is the standard of our holy faith. Shouldst thou ever desert the standard, and fly when combating the enemies of Jesus Christ, thou wilt be stripped of this holy sign, according to the statutes of the order, as having broken the vow thou hast taken, and shalt be cut off from our body as an unsound member.”
On the mantle were embroidered all the instruments of the Passion; each of them was pointed out to the new-made knight, with the words: “In order that thou mayst put all thy hope in the passion of Jesus Christ, behold the cord whereby He was bound; see, too, His crown of thorns; this is the column to which He was tied; this is the lance which pierced His side; this is the sponge with which He was drenched with gall; these are the whips that scourged Him; and this the cross on which He suffered. Receive, therefore, the yoke of the Lord, for it is easy and light, and will give rest to thy soul; and I tie this cord about thy neck in pledge of the servitude thou hast promised. We offer thee nothing but bread and water, a simple habit and of little worth. We give thee and thy parents and relatives a share in the good works performed by the order, and by our brethren now and hereafter, throughout the whole world. Amen.” He was then received to the kiss of peace.
We find no mention of serving the sick in the formula of the vow, but the obligation of hospitality was indispensable. The grand master even took the title of the “guardian of the poor of Christ,” and the knights were wont (according to Michaud) to call the poor and sick “our masters.” We find various notices of their even undertaking the charge of deserted children,—a charge which seems to speak volumes for the loving tenderness of these soldiers of the faith. The succour of the sick formed, therefore, but one portion of the duties embraced by their rule under the name of hospitality; these guests of Christ had to be protected on their journey, as well as guarded and entertained on their arrival; and thus the military defence of the Holy City itself came naturally to be first among the acts of hospitality to which the order devoted itself, and which included at the same time the tending of the sick, the care of orphan children, the entertainment of strangers, the ransom of captives, and the daily clothing and support of the vast multitudes whom every day brought tothe gates of their “Xenodochia,” as the large hospital of the order was styled.
A chronicler, writing in the year 1150, and describing what he had himself seen in his youth, says, that you might behold all these offices of charity going on at the same time: the knights mounting their horses to ride out to battle; the pilgrims crowding to the halls of the hospital; and the infirmary full of sick and wounded Christians, who were served and tended with the utmost care. The necessary expenses of so vast an undertaking readily account for the large endowments granted to the order in every Christian country; their and revenues were not held as furnishing the means of luxury to themselves, but were the funds ungrudgingly contributed by Christendom for the support of her pilgrims, and the defence of the sepulchre of her Lord; and thus the knights were made the holders and administrators of a mighty trust of charity.
To carry out the full design of their foundation, they extended their views far beyond the territory of Jerusalem; hospitals were founded in all the principal maritime states of Europe, which were considered as affiliated to the mother-house, where pilgrims were received and helped forward on their journey, and furnished with escorts and protection in times of danger. These houses afterwards became the commanderies of the order, and had, of course, their own communities of knights; for all did not reside at the principal seat of government, though, as we shall afterwards find, they were liable to be summoned thither at any moment, either to assist at elections, or to reinforce the troops actually engaged in war.
In these hospitals the knights led a strict community life, much of their time being given to active works of charity; a circumstance to which is doubtless owing the superiority which the order of St. John always preserved over that of the Templars as a religious body; for by their peculiar constitution, the military spirit could never become exclusive among them, butwas always tempered and restrained by their obligation to the duties of Christian hospitality.
St. Bernard, in his “Exhortation to the Knights of the Temple,” has left us a picture of a military religious order, whose original was doubtless in part taken from the houses of the Hospitallers, who preceded the Templars by some years in their foundation. “They live,” he says, “in a happy yet frugal manner, having neither wives nor children; and calling nothing their own—not even their own wills: they are never idle; but when not actually marching to the field against the infidels, they mend their arms or the harness of their horses, or engage in various pious exercises under the orders of their chief. Never does an insolent word, or the least murmur, or immoderate laughter, pass without severe correction. They detest all games of chance, and never engage in the chase, or in useless visits; they avoid with horror shows and buffoonery, together with songs and conversation of a light or dangerous character; they are little studious of their dress; their faces are brown with exposure to the sun, and their aspect is stern and severe. When the hour of combat approaches, they arm themselves with faith within and with steel without,—no useless ornament glitters on their armour or that of their horses; their arms are their only decoration, and they use them valiantly in the greatest dangers, without fearing either the numbers or the strength of the barbarians, for their confidence is in the God of Armies; and in fighting for His cause they seek either certain victory or a holy and honourable death.”
The various duties of the order were not all discharged by the same members of the community. Their body was divided into three classes: the knights, always of noble birth, in whom the government of the order was vested; the clergy, or chaplains of St. John, whose duties were purely ecclesiastical, and who also acted as almoners; and the brothers servants-at-arms, a large and very important class, who assisted the knights both in war and in the hospitals, and may be considered assomething between squires and lay brothers,—for they did not act in a menial capacity, and though never eligible to the rank of knights, they were treated almost on an equality, and had votes for the election of master. All these classes were bound by the three essential vows of religion; but, althoughreligious, the knights never bore the priestly character, as has been sometimes represented. Many instances, however, occur of ecclesiastics having previously seen military service as knights of the order before assuming the sacerdotal character. Even the military powers of the knights themselves had their limitations: they were bound to a strict neutrality in all wars among Christian nations, and could take arms only in defence of religion, and against its enemies; when not so engaged, they were to devote themselves to the care of the sick and poor: and this neutrality was not only the rule, but the invariable practice of the order, as their history amply testifies.
So long as the Holy City remained in the hands of the Christians, it continued to be the principal residence of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem; and their large hospital, able to contain above 2000 guests, lay exactly opposite the Holy Sepulchre. It is of this hospital that Innocent II. speaks in words which so perfectly describe the character of the institute that we will insert them, as the best means of conveying a notion to the reader of the design of its foundation, and the manner of its fulfilment. “How pleasing to God,” he says, “and how venerable to man, is at least one spot on earth! How commodious, how useful a refuge is that which the Hospitallers’ house of hospitality in Jerusalem affords to all poor pilgrims who face the various dangers by land and sea, with the pious and devout wish to visit the Sacred City and our Lord’s sepulchre, as is well known to the whole universe! There, indeed, are the indigent assisted, and every sort of humane attention is shown to the weak fatigued by their numerous labours and dangers. There they are refreshed and recover their strength, so that they are enabled to visit thesacred places which have been sanctified by our Saviour’s corporeal presence. Nor do the brethren of that house hesitate to expose their lives for their brothers in Jesus Christ; but with infantry and cavalry, kept for that special purpose, and supported by their own money, they defend the faithful fearlessly from the Paynims, both in going and returning. It is these Hospitallers who are the instruments by which the Omnipotent preserves His Church in the East from the defilements of the infidels.” This was written in 1130: the following year witnessed the death of Baldwin II., and was succeeded by sorrowful times for Palestine. Those who came after him, and bore in turn the title of kings of Jerusalem, were but little fitted for the kingdom whose sceptre was a sword. Under Guy of Lusignan the cause of the Crusaders became well-nigh desperate; and on the fatal field of Tiberias, after a combat which lasted three days, the flower of the Christian army was cut to pieces, and the king himself was taken prisoner. When he recovered his freedom, it was to mourn over a yet greater disaster; for Jerusalem itself had fallen (A.D.1187), and, eighty-eight years after the triumphant entry of Godfrey de Bouillon, was once more in the hands of the Moslems. The news of that event, which is said to have caused the death of the reigning Pope, immediately roused the sovereigns of Europe to prepare for a fresh crusade. Nevertheless it was marked by one circumstance equally honourable to the Christians and to their enemies. Saladin, we are told, was so touched by the reports brought him of the charity exercised at the hospital of St. John, that he gave permission for the Hospitallers to remain in the city one year undisturbed, that the sick and wounded under their charge might be perfectly restored before removal. In 1191 the forces of France and England were united before the walls of Acre; and the third crusade may be said to have opened by the capitulation of that city, when it fell into the hands of Richard Cœur de Lion. The Hospitallers were foremost in the glorious campaign that followed. Itlasted little more than a year; but when the English monarch again embarked for Europe he showed his gratitude and esteem for the Order of St. John by bestowing on them the city of Acre as a free donation; and thus the knights came for the first time to have a fixed residence and sovereignty, and gave their name to the city, which has ever since been known as St. Jean d’Acre. It is here, then, that our narrative finds them, the sovereigns of a city which in all ages seems destined to be the battle-field for East and West, and which in its very aspect appears to claim for itself the right never to sink into insignificance.
Beautiful as it is, even in our own day, it was yet more beautiful when, seven centuries ago, it was the Christian capital of the East. Its snow-white palaces sparkled like jewels against the dark woods of Carmel which rose towards the south. To the east there stretched away the glorious plain, over which the eye might wander till it lost itself in the blue outlines of hills on which no Christian eye could gaze unmoved; for they hid in their bosom the village of Nazareth and the waters of Tiberias, and had been trodden all about by the feet of One whose touch had made them holy ground. That rich and fertile plain, now marshy and deserted, but then a very labyrinth of fields and vineyards, circled Acre also to the north; but there the eye was met by a new boundary,—the snowy summits of a lofty mountain range whose bases were clothed with cedar; while all along the lovely coast broke the blue waves of that mighty sea whose shores are the empires of the world. And there lay Acre among her gardens; the long rows of her marble houses, with their flat roofs, forming terraces odorous with orange-trees, and rich with flowers of a thousand hues, which silken awnings shaded from the sun. You might walk from one end of the city to the other on these terraced roofs, and never once descend into the streets; and the streets themselves were Wide and airy, their shops brilliant with the choicest merchandise of the East, and thronged with the noblestchivalry of Europe. It was the gayest, gallantest city in existence; its gilded steeples stood out against the mountains, or above the horizon of those bright waters that tossed and sparkled in the flood of southern sunshine, and in the fresh breeze that kissed them from the west; every house was rich with painted glass,—for this art, as yet rare in Europe, is spoken of by all writers as lavishly employed in Acre, and was perhaps first brought from thence by the Crusaders; every nation had its street, inhabited by its own merchants and nobles, and no less than twenty crowned heads kept up within the city-walls their palaces and courts. The emperor of Germany, and the kings of England, France, Sicily, Spain, Portugal, Denmark, and Jerusalem, had each their residence there; while the Templars and the Teutonic order had establishments as well as the Hospitallers, and on a scarcely less sumptuous scale.
But it was the great Xenodochia of the latter which was the glory of the place; it rivalled in size, and in the magnificence of its arrangements, the first hospital of Jerusalem; and with a grand and noble magnanimity, not only Christians, but Moslems and Saracens were received within its walls. Its fame became poetical, and it had its legends. Saladin, it is said, hearing of the surprising things done in the hospital of Acre, came in the disguise of a poor man, and feigning sickness, was entertained with a marvellous hospitality: “For,” says the French chronicler, “the infirmarian came to him, and asked him what he would eat; but he answered, ‘The only thing I can eat, and do intensely desire, it were madness even to name.’ ‘Do not hesitate in the least, dear brother,’ replied the infirmarian; ‘for a sick man here is given whatsoever he fancies, if gold can buy it; ask, therefore, for what you will, and you shall have it.’ ‘It is the foot of Moriel, the grand master’s horse,’ answered the pretended invalid; ‘they say he will not take a thousand bezants for him; nevertheless, if that be not cut off in my presence, I can never eat a morsel more.’ So the infirmarian went and toldall to the master, and he marvelled greatly. ‘Well, since it be so, take my horse,’ he said; ‘better that all my horses were dead than a man.’ So the horse was led to the side of the sick man’s bed, and the groom armed himself with a hatchet, and prepared to strike off the fore-foot of the beautiful and noble steed. ‘Hold now,’ cried Saladin, ‘for I am satisfied, and will be content with mutton.’ Then Moriel was loosed again, and led back to his stable, and the grand master and his brethren were right glad thereof. So, when the soldan had eaten and drunk, he arose and returned to his country, and sent thence a charter sealed with his own seal, which ran as follows: ‘Let all men know that I, Saladin, soldan of Babylon, give and bequeath to the hospital of Acre a thousand bezants of gold, to be paid every year, in peace or war, unto the grand master, be he who he may, in gratitude for the wonderful charity of himself and of his order.’”
We have called this a legendary tale; but though, indeed, it reads more like fable than reality, it would not be out of harmony with the romantic and adventurous spirit of its hero, and might be truth, but that the death of the great soldan occurred in the very year when the Christians took possession of Acre. Nevertheless it may instance the kind of reputation enjoyed at that time by the Hospitallers of St. John.
The term of their residence in Acre was scarce a hundred years;—a period marked by the Latin conquest of Constantinople, and several fresh crusades, one of which brought St. Louis to the port of Acre after his gallant army had been destroyed in Egypt. This was in 1254. A few years later, and the last crusading prince who ever left the shores of Europe came thither in the person of Edward I. of England; and there, in 1271, befell the romantic incident of his attempted assassination, and the heroic devotion of his wife Eleanor. Meanwhile, in spite of every effort, Palestine was being lost to the Christian arms; one by one, every town and castle fell into the hands of the infidels, and the Christiansof Syria were driven to take refuge behind the forts of Acre, almost the last citadel whereon the banner of the Cross still waved untouched. Its day, however, was coming, and each new conquest of Kelaoun, the new sultan of the Saracens, drew the circle of its enemies closer and closer round its walls. Marcab fell, then Tripoli, which had been Christian near two hundred years; and the advancing steps of the victors were marked at each successive triumph by enormities and crimes, the recital of which could create only horror and disgust. Acre knew herself doomed; but in vain did she look to Europe for help in her extremity; the crusading spirit was extinct; and De Lorgue, the grand master of the Hospitallers, after a fruitless journey to the courts of Europe, returned to die of a broken heart in his own city, whose catastrophe he saw was not far distant. It was hastened by a breach of truce committed by some of the garrison; but ere it came, Sir John de Villiers, the new grand master, addressed a circular to all the knights of the order, summoning them to Acre to join him in its defence; and he himself set out on a fresh embassy, which proved as useless as his predecessor’s. He, too, returned disconsolate and alone; and before those whom he had addressed could come to his assistance, Melec Seraf, the son of Kelaoun, was encamped beneath the walls of the devoted city (A.D.1291). The resources of the Christians were very small: not much above two hundred of the knights of St. John, and about as many of the Templars, were to be found in the garrison; for most of the members of both orders had fallen at Tripoli, and the reinforcements from Europe had not yet arrived. There were mercenary troops of all nations, but the entire force under arms amounted to no more than 12,000 men; for, large as was the population of Acre, it was mostly of the mercantile class. Of the troops, 500 were from Cyprus, brought thence by Henry, who bore the empty title of king of Jerusalem; but the succour was small in point of numbers, and for fidelity scarcely to be depended upon, and theking’s reputation for courage was none of the highest. The port of Acre, it must be remembered, was still open, which enabled the greater part of the inhabitants to embark with their families and effects, and take flight before the siege began: of those that remained, many were engaged in the defence; but faction and disunion sadly weakened their ranks, and the Hospitallers, though nominally masters of the city, had little power to maintain order and discipline among the various nations and parties that made up its population. By common consent, Peter de Beaujeu, grand master of the Templars, was elected governor of the city; and whatever may be said of the jealousies of the two orders, it is certain that the most perfect union existed between them during the whole of this memorable siege.
The sultan Kelaoun had expired at Cairo whilst actively preparing to set out for Acre. Before his death he exacted a solemn promise from his son never to celebrate his funeral until he should have taken the Christian city, and put all its inhabitants to the sword. Melec Seraf took the oath with right good will, and sent a host of sappers and miners before him to prepare the ground; and every day during the long month of March the Christians had watched the ground from Carmel to the sea-shore broken up by new intrenchments, and the camp filling with the reinforcements that were constantly coming in, not from Egypt alone, but from Arabia and the provinces of the Euphrates, till the vast plain glittered with the multitudes that covered it; their golden targets and polished lance-points resembling (says Michaud) “the shining stars on a serene night; and on the hosts’ advancing, it was like a forest for the multitude of the lances held aloft:” and well it might be, for they were more than 400,000 fighting men, and they covered the entire plain. A little before sunset, the sultan rode out, surrounded by his officers, to survey his thirty miles of intrenchments filled with troops whose arms had as yet been found irresistible; and when he compared his host of combatants withthe contemptible size of the city, the weakness of whose defenders was well known to him, it seemed to him that the very idea of resistance was somewhat laughable, and he gave orders for a peremptory summons to surrender; but there was neither answer nor movement on the part of the Christians, and the night passed in silence on both sides. The rosy dawn was streaking the sky just above those low hills that rose dark against the eastern horizon, when the silence was broken by a hideous crash. The smoke and dust cleared away, and you might see a mass of crumbling ruins where but a moment before rose the stately ramparts of the city. Then a loud cry from the ranks of the Saracens, a pell-mell charge towards the spot, and a pause as they reached the verge of a wide, deep ditch which a curve in the ground till then had concealed from view. There was a bloody struggle on its edge; and the infidels were forced to retire, leaving five thousand corpses on the ruined breach. But what were five thousand men to such a host as theirs? Such a repulse hardly seemed a check; and the word sped rapidly through the ranks of the cavalry to charge and force their way to the foot of the breach, which was manned by the Christians,and defended byseveral large instruments of war. So the horsemen came on at a gallop; and even the besieged gazed on the gallant sight with admiration as they beheld that line of warriors sweeping forwards on their Arab chargers, their arms and cuirasses, and even the harness of their horses, glittering in gold; for they were the flower of the sultan’s troops. But their gallantry was powerless to carry them over that yawning terrible abyss—not a blow could they level at their adversaries; whilst a shower of stones and arrows from the engines on the walls rolled horses and riders in the dust by scores. For five days were these scenes renewed, and always with the same result; cavalry and infantry never flinching from theorders of the sultan, which sent them to certain destruction, but continuing to rush on with a desperate courage, only to be drivenback upon their ranks, leaving half their numbers dead upon the field.
The sultan was greatly enraged at his repeated failures; but satisfied at length that the city was not yet to be carried by assault, he yielded to the persuasions of his emirs, and commanded the ditch to be filled up. This was a work of time; for, first it had to be drained of the water, and then huge camel-loads of earth and stone were thrown into it by thousands; and still, as day after day went on, it scarcely seemed to fill, and the month of April passed without his finding himself a step nearer to the end of his toil. He became impatient, and without waiting for the work to be finished, gave fresh orders for the assault. The ditch was but half filled; and when the first line of the Saracens rushed to the edge, they were once more obliged to fall back in confusion, baffled and unable to cross, for it was still a full yard deep, and the horses refused to enter. Then followed a scene, which perhaps has never had its equal in the chronicles of war or of fanaticism; yet, strange and incredible as the facts may seem, they are related by all historians—some being the eye-witnesses of what they describe. There was among the sultan’s troops a body of men known by the name of Chages, a kind of new sect among the Moslems, who surpassed all their comrades in their terrible and bloody devotion to the cause of Islam. To them Melec Seraf now turned: “You who call yourselves the chosen of the Prophet,” he cried, “show now your faith by deeds, and throw yourselves into yonder ditch as a bridge for the mamelukes.” Without a moment’s hesitation the Chages obeyed the call, and with a mad enthusiasm flung themselves into the chasm by hundreds, while the others urged their horses over the quivering bridge of human bodies. To us it seems a strange idea to storm a breach with cavalry; but the Saracen and his horse were rarely parted, and many succeeded in clambering with their chargers up the ruined wall only to find their labour useless, for a new one had risen behind the old, stronglyand skilfully erected, and defended by the Hospitallers themselves, with their marshal, Claremont, at their head. But though the horsemen were easily driven back, the miners of the sultan soon found their way to the foundation of the new defence: down it came, and with it many a tower and battlement beside; among them was the principal fortress of the city, which the infidels were wont to call “the Cursed Tower,” from the mischief their men received beneath its walls. One assault now followed close upon another, and just when pressed the hardest, the Christians were deserted by their Cypriot allies. King Henry had had to sustain the shock of one day’s assault, and that was enough for him; under pretext that his men required repose, he got the Teutonic knights to take his post during the night, promising again to relieve them when morning dawned. But that dawn only showed the sails of his vessels sinking in the horizon; he had taken advantage of the night to embark unperceived, and was far on his way to Cyprus when the battle recommenced. That day the Saracens were well-nigh in possession of the town; for in one of their furious charges at the breach, they not only carried it with the slaughter of all its defenders, but penetrated to the very heart of the town. There was hard fighting hand to hand in the crowded streets, and the combat lasted two entire days, until at length Claremont, at the head of a handful of knights, drove the intruders back again to their trenches; whilst some of them were seen to seize their antagonists in their brawny arms and hurl them headlong over the battlements. One of these men, a Norman of prodigious size, leapt from his horse and threw three of the Saracens over one after another, like so many dogs; but as he was struggling with a fourth, a stone from a war-engine struck him to the ground.
Another attack;—this time, however, in a different direction: the great gate of St. Anthony was assaulted by a picked corps of mamelukes; but there, too, they were met by the Hospitallers and the Templars, withthe two grand masters at their head. These brave men seemed to be in all parts of the town at one and the same time, and their presence animated their followers to prodigies of valour. Alas! their valour availed but little, and at most could but gain a brief delay; fresh enemies swarmed in the place of those who fell, while every loss on the part of the Christians was irreparable, and their numbers were reduced to a scanty handful. Sir John de Villiers was already badly wounded, when the master of the Templars thus addressed him: “The town is lost, as things now stand,” he said; “you must try a sortie that will draw them off awhile, and give us time to complete some fresh defences.” Villiers, wounded as he was, did his best to carry out this order, and gathering together all his men who were yet able to mount, he rode out to the enemy’s camp, his whole body not consisting of above 500 in number. Bravely did the little company fall on the Saracen host, which they thought to take by surprise; but they were met by all the cavalry of the sultan, and after a desperate struggle, re-entered the town with half their number missing. Bad news, too, met them on their return; Beaujeu had been struck, as it was feared, by a poisoned arrow, and half the town was already in possession of the enemy; with daylight they could look for nothing but one last death-struggle, and the loss of all; and a council of the surviving knights of the three orders was hastily summoned, together with certain of the citizens and the gallant old patriarch of Jerusalem, who, though he might long since have secured his safety by flight, had chosen to remain to encourage his children by his presence. There was indeed little to debate, for all were of one mind; they knew well enough that they had only to choose between death and flight,—but of the last they never thought; the port was indeed open, and there was yet time; but Acre was all Palestine to its defenders, and each one felt that to die on its battlements was to die in the cause of Christ. For such a death they therefore prepared as became the cross they wore;the holy sacrifice was offered, and each one received what to far the greater number was the last viaticum; they gave the kiss of peace each one to his neighbour, old grudges were made up where any existed, and those who had lived in jealousy or enmity shook one another by the hand, and swore to stand together and die as friends.
It is said that Beaujeu, before the last combat began, forced his way to the sultan’s tent to propose conditions of truce; which might have been accepted but for the unwillingness shown by the renegades in the Saracen army to listen to terms of peace. Whether or no this be true, the attempt was certainly of no avail; for it was still night when the Moslems broke into the city by the great gate of St. Anthony, their way lighted up by the terrible gleam of the Greek fire, and a frightful carnage followed in the streets. Beaujeu fell in the front of the defenders, and Claremont too, the gallant marshal of the Hospitallers, was cut to pieces by a thousand blows. The day broke cold and gloomy over the city, which was the scene, not of one, but of innumerable combats. Every house was defended and stormed; every square was a rallying post and a battle-ground; the streets were piled high with dead and dying, and were slippery with blood. At length it was all over: a rush towards the port carried soldiers and populace together in one dense and crowded mass, pursued and massacred by the mamelukes, as they swept along treading one another under in the crush. Of all that multitude, not half ever reached the vessels; for the Saracens were amongst them, slaughtering them as they stood, the Greek fire fell thick over the shipping, and the crowded boats that left the shore were burnt or sunk before they reached the vessels’ sides. Sixty thousand Christians fell, it is said, in that short but horrible massacre. A whole convent of nuns of the order of St. Clare, to save themselves from the brutal violence of the conquerors, following the example of their courageous superior, mutilated their features inthe most frightful manner; so that the Pagan soldiery no sooner beheld these spouses of Christ all bleeding and ghastly, than, seized with disgust and fury, they fell upon them and slaughtered them without mercy.[3]As to the Hospitallers, there were but six left alive, and these made a gallant retreat under cover of a shower of arrows, and gained the karrack, or galley of the order, in which they made their way towards Cyprus. The Templars finding it impossible to cut their way through the masses of their enemies, threw themselves into a tower, and held it for some days against all assaults. It was the last struggle of despair: the tower was soon mined, and scaled by thousands of the Saracens; but as they crowded to the ladders, the walls gave way, and falling with a hideous crash, buried Christians and Moslems in their ruins. It is said that ten Templars escaped previous to the catastrophe, and found their way to Cyprus; but all that remained in the city, whether soldiers or citizens, were put to the sword; and for days the slaughter lasted, till there were none left to be slain.
The fall of Acre was quickly followed by that of Tyre, and all the smaller towns along the Syrian coast.Nicopolis held out for two years longer, thanks to a little garrison of Hospitallers; but at length an earthquake accomplished what the Saracen arms could not effect, and city and garrison were buried under one heap of ruins. Thus the Cross was overthrown for ever in Syria; and the order that was created for its defence was compelled to seek another home.