The Story of Don John of Austria

BOOK III

CHAPTER I

From its narrowness and bareness it seemed a prison, and no comparison could be found for the scarcity of its furniture; its triangular shape and massive walls, on which could be seen the remains of torn-down tapestry, luxurious gilt cornices, and carved, vaulted ceiling, suggested, as in reality was the case, the corner of a sumptuous room which, for convenience or by caprice, had been cut off by a partition. In the centre of this partition rose an altar of dark wood, without other images or adornments than a life-sized crucifix; the pallid limbs of the Christ stood out with imposing realism against the dark background; the dying head was bowed, and its agonised gaze fixed itself, with a gentle expression of mercy and sorrow, on those who knelt beneath it. In the opposite corner was one of those carved fifteenth-century cupboards, of so much value now, but of so little then; it was open, and in its depths were to be seen many and terrible instruments of penitence and a few books of prayer; leaning against the wall was a shut-up folding seat, the only one, and the only piece of furniture to be seen in this curious room; a great silver lamp glowed in front of the altar, and by its light could be vaguely seen the outline of a strange figure, which was moving on the ground on the frozen stones, giving vent to deep groans and dis-jointed words.

Little by little the light began to filter through the narrow, arched window which pierced one of the walls, and then the solitary personage could be plainly seen; he was old, with a pronounced aquiline nose, a white beard fell on his chest, and he was so spare and decrepit, that it might have been said of him as St. Theresa said of St. Peter Alcantara, "That he seemed made of the roots of trees." He was wrapped in a big black cloak, underneath which a kind of white gown showed. He was prostrate before the altar, on the cold stones, and was writhing like a feeble worm, at times leaning his bald head on the ground, at others raising his withered arms towards the crucifix, with a movement of love and anguish, like a sorrowful child who craves the help of its father; then could be seen the big gold ring with a great seal which moved up and down on his finger as if it were threaded on a dried-up vine branch. It was full daylight before the old man finally abandoned his lowly position and somewhat arranged the disorder of his dress, which was none other than the habit of a Dominican monk, whose wide folds seemed only to heighten his tall figure. With a firm step he went to a little door in the partition, almost hidden by the altar, and through it went into the adjoining room. This was a sumptuous octagonal oratory, whose altar was exactly in front of the one in the miserable room where the old man prayed, so that the rich silver cibary which enclosed the Blessed Sacrament on the altar of the front room corresponded with the feet of the crucifix in the back one. There was only one picture on this magnificent altar, an artistic marvel: the celebrated Madonna of Fra Angelico, known as the "Salus Infirmorum." On the Gospel side there was a rich canopy of cloth of gold, with faldstool and cushions covered with the same; and in a line in front of the altar there were four other faldstools covered with brocade, where four prelates were praying; they wore white rochets over their purple cassocks, and stoles embroidered at the neck. On the brilliantly lighted altar could be seen everything arranged that was necessary for celebrating the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. As the old man entered the oratory, the four prelates rose at once and bowed low before him, because this old man, who a few seconds before was moaning like a feeble child, and writhing on the ground before the crucifix like a vile worm, was no less a person than Christ's Vicar on earth; called then in the chronology of Roman Pontiffs Pope Pius V, now in the calendar of saints, St. Pius V.

The Pope knelt under the canopy and buried his wrinkled forehead in his thin fingers for a long while; then at a sign from him the four prelates approached and began to robe themselves in the sacred vestments to celebrate the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. The Pope was celebrant, with solemn slowness and deep devotion, although nothing revealed to the outside world the depth of his internal emotions.

But on reaching the Gospel of St. John an extraordinary thing happened; he began to read it slowly, pausing, and marking all the words, as one who understands and appreciates its deep meaning, and suddenly, with his face strange and transfigured, and in a voice which was not his own, he said these words: "Fuit homo missus a Deo, cui nomen erat Joannes!" (There was a man sent from God, whose name was John.) He paused for a minute, turned his face towards the Virgin, gazing into space, as if seeing celestial visions, and repeated in a questioning, humble, submissive, loving tone, like a child asking his mother, "Fuit homo missus a Deo, cui nomen erat Joannes?" and in his natural voice, firm, strong, and decided, he repeated, for the third time, "Fuit homo missus a Deo, cui nomen erat Joannes."

From that moment the weight which was burdening the Pontiff seemed lifted. The Holy League against the Turk, between the Holy See, the Signory of Venice and the King of Spain, had been formed, thanks to the efforts, energy, heroic patience and fervent prayers of this feeble old man. The united forces of the three powers amounted to 200 galleys, 100 ships, 50,000 infantry, 4000 horses, and 500 artillery with ammunition and apparatus. The expense of this army was calculated at 600,000 crowns a day, of which Spain paid half, Venice two-sixths, and the Holy See the other sixth part. The Pope had named Marco Antonio Colonna, Duke of Paliano and Grand Constable of Naples, to be General of his fleet; Venice placed at the head of her contingent the veteran Sebastian Veniero; and the King of Spain appointed as General of all his forces by land and sea his brother D. John of Austria, who had just ended the war with the Moors.

The Pope in person promulgated the articles of the Holy League from the altar of St. Peter's. The Roman citizens filled the immense Basilica, and Pius, standing in front of the altar, surrounded by the Cardinals and foreign ambassadors, read the text of the document himself with profound emotion. Then the Te Deum was intoned and 30,000 voices replied at once, and 30,000 hearts were moved with faith and hope, because the horrors the Turks committed at the taking of Nikosia, and the danger which threatened Famagusta and all the island of Cyprus at the moment, made the whole of Europe fear that Selim would execute, if he were not checked, the plan which Mahomet II and Solomon the Magnificent had made, of overcoming Italy and destroying Christianity there.

There remained, however, to be settled a matter of the utmost importance, and it was this that overburdened the Holy Pontiff at the time we saw him praying and groaning in the lonely corner, which he himself had made, behind his oratory, to conceal from men his converse with Heaven. It was the appointing of a Generalissimo for the armada of the Holy League, who was worthy to be the leader of the great enterprise, and who would be a skilful manipulator of this complicated and difficult machine, on which all Christendom was gazing and fixing their hopes. The allies did not agree over this, and, as so often happens in politics, they put personal and wounded vanity before the holy and noble end that the Pontiff had in view. He proposed his own general, Marco Antonio Colonna; the Spaniards wished for their D. John of Austria, the Venetians, without daring to propose their general, Sebastian Veniero, rejected Colonna, as having been a failure in the first League; they also objected to D. John of Austria, on account of the lack of experience which they imagined he must possess at twenty-four, and proposed the Duke of Savoy, Emanuele Filiberto, or the Duke of Anjou, afterwards Henri III of France, who had not revealed as yet his ineptitude and vices. The arguments about D. John's youth weighed with the Pontiff, and he inclined to the Duke of Anjou, thinking that his appointment might possibly gain the help of his brother the King of France, who hitherto had refused it. However, the time passed in vacillations and doubts, proposals and refusals, until at last the allies resolved to leave the appointment absolutely in the hands of the Pontiff, which did not prevent anyone from using all the means in his power to influence the august old man in their favour.

However, his holy diplomacy was too far above human cabals for intrigues to affect his upright policy. The Pope resorted for three consecutive days to prayer and penitence, as was his humble custom in difficult circumstances, and on the fourth, on which we saw him saying Mass before the Madonna of Fra Angelico, he convoked for that morning the presence of the Cardinals Granvelle and Pacheco and D. Juan de ZuÑiga, the delegates of the King of Spain, and Michele Suriano and Juan Surenzo, ambassadors from Venice, and told them distinctly, without evasion, and in contradiction to his previous opinion, that he named the Lord D. John of Austria Generalissimo of the Holy League.

The Venetians looked disgusted; but the astute Granvelle was before them with the only possible objection to D. John: "Holy Father! In spite of his twenty-four years?" To which the Pope answered with great firmness, "In spite of his twenty-four years."

The Venetians then knew that they were vanquished, but made it a condition that the Generalissimo should consult, in cases of importance, with his two colleagues, thenceforward subordinates, Marco Antonio Colonna and Sebastian Veniero.

The Pope agreed, shrugging his shoulders as if he granted a thing of scant importance, and the next day signed the commission of D. John which the Cardinal Granvelle presented to him, repeating, with the profound feeling of security which Heaven gives to holy souls, "Fuit homo missus a Deo, cui nomen erat Joannes."

CHAPTER II

Pius V wrote at once a brief to D. John of Austria, informing him of his appointment, and telling him to come quickly to Italy to take command of the fleet, saying that henceforward he looked on D. John as a son; as a father he would care for his interest, and would at once reserve for him the first kingdom conquered from the Turk; that D. John was never to forget for a moment the great undertaking which had fallen to his charge, and that he could count on victory, as he (the Pope) promised it in God's name.

The Pope sent this brief to D. John by his legate a latere to Philip II, Cardinal Alexandrino, who also bore, at the same time, important communications for the Kings of France and Portugal. The Cardinal Alexandrino Michele Bonelli was a nephew of the Pope, and still only a boy, but he had so much prudence and sagacity and tact in the management of affairs, that he enjoyed the full confidence of the Pontiff, who had named him his Secretary of State. However, the Pope wished to counterbalance the youth of Alexandrino by the importance and grey hair of those who accompanied him, and sent in his suite Hipolito Aldobrandini, afterwards Clement VIII, Alessandro Rierio, Mateo Contarelli, and Francesco Tarugi, all soon afterwards Cardinals. This learned and splendid company all disembarked at Barcelona, where they found awaiting them the Nuncio Giovanni Battista Castagna, afterwards the Pope Urbain VII, and the General of the Dominicans, Vincenzo Giustiniani; also, representing the King, the Legate D. Herando de Borja, brother of the Duque de Gandia, and representing D. John of Austria, his Master of the Horse, D. Luis de CÓrdoba.

But it happened that while the embassy of Pius V was disembarking at Barcelona, by other channels came the dreadful news of the surrender of Famagusta, the awful death of Marco Antonio Bragadino, and the horrible treachery committed by Mustafa on these conquered heroes. For seventy-five days Famagusta withstood the assault of 250 galleys which blockaded the island, and of 120,000 Turks with whom Mustafa besieged the walls of the unhappy town, which had to defend it only 4000 Italian soldiers, 200 Albanians, 800 horse, and between peasants and fishermen 3000 Cypriotes. Till at last, defeated and wanting food, the brave Governor of the place, Marco Antonio Bragadino, counted the forces left to him, and found them to be only 1700 soldiers and 1200 Cypriotes, counting sick and wounded, provision for two days, six barrels of powder, and 120 cannon balls.

Then he thought of capitulating, and Mustafa favourably received the first overtures they made, loading the officers who went to propose the capitulation with presents and praises. The besieged asked that their officers and men of war might be taken to the isle of Crete with their arms and baggage: that the Turks should supply galleys for the transport of the troops: that the inhabitants of Famagusta should be allowed to keep their property and practise their religion freely.

Mustafa agreed to everything, and even wished the soldiers to take five cannon and three picked horses, as a testimony to their heroic defence.

The capitulation was signed by both parties, and the soldiers began at once to embark on the Turkish galleys.

The next day Bragadino set out from Famagusta to deliver up the keys to Mustafa, who waited in his tent. He rode a magnificent horse, preceded by trumpeters in gala armour, with surtout of purple and a scarlet umbrella which a squire held over his head. The principal leaders and gentlemen followed, to the number of twenty. Mustafa received them in his tent with much courtesy, he made Bragadino sit down at his side on the same divan, and talked for a long while of the incidents of the siege. But, suddenly throwing off the mask and revealing his black perfidy, he began to reproach the Venetian General with having killed several Turkish prisoners in time of truce, and with insolent arrogance and vehemence, asked him, "And what guarantees, Christian, are you giving me for the safety of the boats which are taking you to Crete?"

Bragadino was indignant at this question, which was an outrage on the good faith of Venice, and replied that such an insulting suspicion should have been shown before the capitulation was signed. Mustafa then rose in a fury, and at a signal, which must have been previously arranged, his guards threw themselves on Bragadino and his comrades and loaded them with chains. In front of Mustafa's tent there was a wide esplanade, and there they were beheaded, one by one, with such violence that more than once their gore bespattered Bragadino's purple surtout; three times they made him kneel down at the block to be beheaded, and as often they took him away again, just for the pleasure of causing him anguish, contenting themselves at last by breaking his teeth, cutting off his nose and ears, and pulling out his nails. Meanwhile the Turkish seamen threw themselves on the Christian officers and soldiers already embarked, took away their arms, and chained them to the benches, to convert them into galley slaves. By dint of tortures the cruel Turks wore out the noble Bragadino in twelve days. Every morning they beat him, tied to a tree, and with two baskets of earth hanging from his neck they made him work at the same forts which the illustrious General had so gallantly defended. When he met Mustafa out walking, the soldiers obliged him to kneel down and kiss the dust with his mutilated lips.

Mustafa converted the cathedral of Famagusta into a mosque, and to celebrate the sacrilegious ceremony, he ordered the martyred Bragadino to be brought to his presence. Mustafa was seated on the high altar, on the very ara, and from there condemned Bragadino to be flayed alive, crying out in a diabolical rage, "Where is your Christ? See me seated on His altar! Why does He not punish me? Why does He not set you free?"

Bragadino answered nothing, and with the calm dignity of a martyr began to say the Miserere. They began flaying him by his feet, fearing that he would not be able to live through the torture, and they were right; when his executioners reached his waist, and while the heroic martyr was repeating the words cor mundum crea in me Deus, he gave a dreadful shudder and died. They filled the skin with hay, and put it on the yard of a ship, that all the crews might see it.

These terrible tidings spread fear and consternation everywhere, but specially in Italy and Spain; because the Ottoman monster, with its gory claws fixed in defeated Cyprus, was lifting its head and surveying Europe, seeking new conquest to satisfy its rage and cupidity. Italy and Spain were the most exposed to fresh attacks of the monster, with whom no power could then grapple successfully single-handed, and this is why they welcomed the Holy League with such enthusiasm, and the anxiety of those who meet with a means of dissipating a looming danger; and for this also, that the arrival of Cardinal Alexandrino was looked upon in Spain as an embassy from Heaven, who was come to confer, as defender of the kingdom, the invincible sword of the Archangel on D. John of Austria, its best loved prince.

The Legate's journey from Barcelona to Madrid was one continued triumphal march, and his entry into the city one of those events which mark the history of a people. The pontifical ambassador lodged provisionally at the convent of Atocha, while his official entry into Madrid was being prepared.

The next day Prince Ruy GÓmez de Silva came to visit the Legate in the name of the King, accompanied by all the principal personages of the Court, with much pomp and decked out with many jewels, and two hours later D. John of Austria arrived on the same errand, with the four Archdukes Rudolph, Ernest, Albert and Wenceslas, brothers of the Queen DoÑa Ana, fourth wife of Philip II. The Legate was very pleased to make D. John's acquaintance, and talked to him for half an hour, addressing him as Highness, which displeased Philip, and was the reason why he secretly advised all the Chancelleries not thus to address his brother, as Philip had not granted him this honour.

The solemn entry of the Legate was fixed for the next day, and for it, adjoining the hospital of Anton Martin, and in front of the gate of that name, was erected a big platform which occupied all the width of the street, with five wide steps by which to mount on to it, covered with costly carpets. In the midst of the platform an altar was raised, with the finest tapestry and ornaments that the palace could provide, and at the back a gorgeous room in which the Legate might rest, as from there he was to see all the clergy and monks of Madrid and the neighbourhood, who had come to receive him and to offer their homage, pass before him.

At two o'clock D. John of Austria set out in a coach, and went to the convent of Atocha to pick up the Legate, and enter by the gate of St. Martin in his company; he was accompanied by his entire household, in gala attire, and by several Grandees and gentlemen of the Court, whom the King sent to add to his importance. D. John was greatly beloved by the people of Madrid, and the naming him Generalissimo, and the hopes that all Christendom placed in the brave Prince, had increased their enthusiasm. His coming was awaited by a great crowd of people, who at once surrounded his coach and accompanied him to Atocha, applauding him and shouting for joy. The Legate got into D. John's coach wearing his Cardinal's cloak, hood and hat, and the enthusiasm of the people grew to such a pitch, and so loudly did they acclaim D. John, the Legate and the Pope, that Alexandrino, not accustomed to such a display of feeling, was first frightened, and then wept for joy, bestowing blessings right and left, anxious to show his gratitude.

When Alexandrino arrived at the platform, the procession had already mounted by the street of Atocha, and he seated himself on the velvet throne, which was placed on the Gospel side, with many Monsignori, prelates and gentlemen of his household, and a little before him on his right hand was a Papal Protonotary with the pontifical standard, which was of white damask, with the tiara and keys on one side and Christ on the cross on the other. Right and left of the throne and on the steps, the soldiers of Spain and Germany guarded him like a royal personage. Then, before the platform, began to file the Confraternities with their standards, the monks with their banners, and the parishes with their crosses, and many of the neighbouring villages had brought their dancers, minstrels, and clarions, and others were accompanied by Alcaides, Regidors and Alguacils, all with their wands. On passing they bowed first to the altar and then to the Legate, who, in return, gave them his blessing.

The King had so nicely calculated the time and the distance, that, as the procession left by one side of the square, he entered by the other in a coach, followed by his Spanish and German guard and by the hundred noble archers. The King went towards the altar and the Legate came to meet him, taking off his hat and the hood of his cloak; to which D. Philip replied by bowing, hat in hand.

Then there passed between the two many polite words of welcome, and then D. Philip and D. John of Austria mounted their horses, and the Legate a beautiful mule, with cloth of crimson velvet, a present from the city, and they went together to St. Mary's to sing a Te Deum and announce the arrival of the Legate.

Twelve trumpeters headed the march with the attendants; two spare horses covered with crimson velvet with fringes and trimmings of gold, with saddles and saddle-cloths and bridles of great value; the family, attendants and retainers, lackeys and pages with their bags of crimson velvet embroidered with gold. The household of the Legate and then that of the Alcaides de Corte, many private gentlemen and members of the Orders, gentlemen purveyors and of the bedchamber, and a great concourse of nobles and native and foreign gentlemen. Then followed the Masters of the Horse and Stewards of the King, Queen, Princess, and of D. John of Austria, and mixing among them, in different lines, gentlemen and prelates who had come with Cardinal Alexandrino.

Then a short space, in the midst of which rode, dressed in mulberry, a Protonotary with the pontifical standard, preceded by two lictors, and followed by two others wearing the livery of the Legate and carrying the fasces of the Roman Consuls of old, which had been granted to the Popes, as a sign of great respect, by the Emperor Constantine.

The standard was escorted by two of Alexandrino's mace-bearers and four of the King's, with their coats of arms and crowned maces, and then followed the Grandees in such numbers, that seldom have so many been together at one ceremony.

Then came D. John of Austria, and twenty paces behind, the King, giving the Legate his right hand; but whether it was accidental or intentional, it happened that on entering the street of LÉon D. John fell back to the King's left, and the three proceeded in a row, conversing pleasantly, which was so extraordinary and unlike the rigid etiquette always observed by D. Philip, that it was interpreted as a public honour the King was doing to the Generalissimo of the Holy League, and was greeted and welcomed by the populace with great applause and renewed rejoicing and enthusiasm.

At the porch of St. Mary's the King took leave of the Legate, without alighting, doffing his hat with great politeness, and the Legate replied from his mule, in his turn taking off his hood and hat.

Then in the historic church they sang the Te Deum and the Regina coeli lÆtare; Alexandrino gave the blessing from the epistle side, and a Protonotary announced afterwards to the people, from the centre of the altar, that the Very Illustrious Lord Cardinal Alexandrino, nephew of the very holy Father and Lord Pius V, came to these kingdoms of Spain as Legate a latere of His Holiness, and conceded 200 years of pardon to those present.

This ended the ceremony, and D. John of Austria got into his coach again with the Legate, and conducted him to the lodging which was prepared in the house of D. Pedro de Mendoza, where the Presidents of Castille afterwards lived.

CHAPTER III

D. John's departure once settled and fixed, his first thought was to say good-bye to DoÑa Magdalena de Ulloa. Neither years, nor the natural dazzling of triumph and glory, nor the dark clouds which, on the contrary, brought disillusion and disenchantment, were ever able to deaden in D. John his tender love for DoÑa Magdalena; away at the bottom of his heart, joined to the religious faith which had taken such firm root in his soul at Villagarcia, the loyal chivalry, strong and manly, learned from Luis Quijada, and the active and practical charity taught by DoÑa Magdalena herself, there was, so to speak, like the foundations of the castle of his great nature, the tender, respectful, confiding love he bore for DoÑa Magdalena, his aunt, true remains of the former JeromÍn who had become the D. John who filled the world with his fame, and there always flourished in him, as in all loyal breasts, the fragrant flower of gratitude.

D. John made a glory of his love and gratitude towards DoÑa Magdalena de Ulloa, and in how many of his papers do these natural and spontaneous gloryings burst forth, like a spring of crystal water which seeks the first fissure by which to escape. Soon after the triumph of Lepanto he wrote to the MarquÉs de Sarria, "That my aunt really is as delighted as she seems to be, I am very certain, as we share each other's good fortunes, for no son owes his mother more than I owe her."

So D. John wrote to DoÑa Magdalena, telling her of his appointment as Generalissimo, and at the same time begging her to name a place where he could go to receive her blessing and take leave of her. He proposed that she should, as she had done before, leave Villagarcia, where she was, for the convent of Abrojo or Espina, where, without entering Valladolid, he would go to meet her. It is certainly a curious circumstance, the reason for which we do not know, that in none of the many visits D. John paid DoÑa Magdalena, did he ever wish to enter Valladolid or stop in Villagarcia, but they always met at one or other of these convents.

The courier who took D. John's letter brought back DoÑa Magdalena's answer, that she would come to Madrid to give him the blessing he craved and the embrace he desired, and thousands of other blessings and embraces that she wanted to give him on her own account. D. John, delighted, ordered the rooms to be prepared that were always kept in his house for DoÑa Magdalena, which were comfortable and apart, in one of the towers which flanked the palace, which was, as we have said, that of the Conde de Lemus, in the square of Santiago; it was spacious and magnificent, with two stories and two towers, very like the Casa de Lujan, which still exists in the Plaza de la Villa.

D. John and DoÑa Magdalena had not seen each other since the death of Luis Quijada, and D. John was very much shocked at the great change he saw in her. DoÑa Magdalena was no longer the beautiful fine lady of whom good Luis Quijada had been so proud at the entertainments and solemnities of the Court. His death had freed her from the obligation of complying, like a good wife, with his wishes, innocent vanities, and the calls of high rank; and now, free from all such obligations, she had given herself entirely to the saintly impulses of her austere virtue.

Two pictures of her still exist, which fully show these two phases of her life. One is in the church of St. Luis at Villagarcia, and the other in that of St. Isidoro at Oviedo, both founded by the noble dame. In the first she is seen in all the glory of her youth and beauty, which was remarkable, in magnificent attire, with costly jewels and a commanding, though at the same time modest, attitude: the great lady who hides beneath her velvet and laces the austere virtues of the saint. In the second picture she wears the severe dress of the widows of the sixteenth century, more or less similar to that of many nuns of our own day, still handsome, but worn by years, penitence and vigils; her weeds of coarse woollen material, with wide stays stiffened with wood at the waist; she wears no jewels, nor is there anything white in her dress, not even the coif or veil which surrounds her pale face; her pose is humble, but at the same time it has something noble and commanding, even elegant: the picture of the saint who cannot altogether hide under her mourning and sackcloth the dignity of the lady of high degree.

It was this last DoÑa Magdalena in her humility and mourning that D. John received in his arms when she alighted from her litter, at the old palace in the square of Santiago. Without a word she pressed him for a long while to her heart, and then made the sign of the Cross on his forehead, as she always did in old times to JeromÍn when he got up and when he went to bed. D. John seized the generous hand, and kissed it again and again, at which those present were much affected, not only the faithful servants from Villagarcia, who had come with DoÑa Magdalena, but all D. John's household, who had gone to receive her as if she really were his mother.

For some time DoÑa Magdalena had known that envy was making unworthy murmurings against D. John, and with all a mother's solicitude and fear she had told him of this. D. John's answer to this letter from DoÑa Magdalena is the only one that remains of this interesting correspondence; it breathes the lad's noble confidence and his absolute faith in the justice of the King, and the tranquillity of his conscience. After several arguments which prove this, he adds, "You tell me, making me very great, to be careful what I do, as all eyes are fixed on me, and that I should not be too gay, but rather avoid all occasions which might be harmful. Again I kiss your hands for what you are doing for me, and I beg you not to tire in so doing. To this, Lady, I reply with the simple truth of which I am such a friend; I give endless thanks to Our Lord that since the loss of my uncle and father I have always tried to live though absent from one who was always so good to me as he would wish me to live, and thus I think that I have not ruled myself so badly or done so little, that in this respect anyone can affirm the contrary. However much I should wish to wear smart clothes, the work of a nine months' campaign would not afford me much opportunity to do so; moreover, Lady, all times and conditions are not the same, and I see that sensible people, who are not fools, change as they get older; if there are others in the world who, in order to speak ill, fall on anybody, it does not alarm me, whatever they may murmur or say, and as you write that this has come to such a pitch that you did not even dare to ask news about me; however, as far as that goes, saints are not free from the vexations of the world, but I will try to do my utmost to behave as you think best, whose good advice I pray that I may always enjoy, because there is no one I wish or ought to please like her to whom I owe my up-bringing and my present position; this I shall remember even in my grave. I pray you to forgive such a long discourse, as the inventions of the times are enough to make a man do what he least intended, and let me know if those of the Lady Abbess^[11] are such as to disturb greatly your peace of mind."

These murmurs wounded DoÑa Magdalena more than if they had been directed against herself, and her wish to defend D. John and warn and advise him, were the principal reasons for her coming to Madrid; because it seemed to her that all this would be easier in her leisurely visit than to await a passing one from him, which would of necessity be hurried and agitated. D. John quieted DoÑa Magdalena, opening out his heart to her. These rumours, according to him, came from the MarquÉs de los VÉlez and the MarquÉs de Mondejar, whose vanity was wounded, especially the former's, by D. John's victory over the Moors, which they had not been able to effect with more time, money and means of action. But these murmurs had had no influence on the King, so D. John declared. He showed himself a most loving brother, giving such positive proofs of his confidence in D. John by appointing him General of the Fleet, and of his paternal solicitude by counsels and instructions, so that even two days before he had given a big sheet, corrected by his own hand, in which was set forth the addresses and formulas to be used in D. John's correspondence with every sort of person, from the Pope and Kings to the humblest Councillor or Prior of the Orders. Then DoÑa Magdalena asked whether to the names of Mondejar and los VÉlez should not be added another, not so illustrious, but at the same time more powerful, Antonio PÉrez.

D. John strongly repudiated the suspicion. Antonio PÉrez had always been one of his warmest friends. So DoÑa Magdalena did not insist further, as she had spoken more by instinct than having certain proof. She, however, permitted herself to repeat smilingly an Italian proverb, which Luis Quijada was always quoting, about the honeyed snares and deceptions of the Court, "Chi non sa fingersi amico non sa essere inimico." Which impressed D. John, coming from her, although, unfortunately, not as the instinctive cry of alarm should have done, no doubt an inspiration from Heaven. Then D. John talked of another person, who was at that time a thorn in his side, his mother Barbara Blombergh. Away in Flanders, where she lived, the frivolity and want of decorum of this lady's life had begun to displease the great Duque de Alba, the Governor of those States, and he was contemplating taking some violent measures, as she seemed not to listen to prudent counsels, and the solution D. John wished was to move her to Spain, for DoÑa Magdalena to receive her and constitute herself Barbara's guardian angel.

It grieved DoÑa Magdalena to see him so sad, and she promised, and, as we shall see later, performed all he asked; and to distract his attention from such bitter thoughts, she showed him with glee the rich neckties and fine shirts she had brought him as a present, because one of DoÑa Magdalena's attentions to D. John was that he never wore any linen that was not sewn by her own hands. She was always at work, and then sent him large parcels, carefully packed, wherever he happened to be.

DoÑa Magdalena's faithful servants came to pay their respects to D. John, whom they had known as a little boy at Villagarcia. The old accountant Luis de Valverde, the two squires Juan Galarza and Diego Ruiz, and the first duenna of honour DoÑa Petronilla de Alderete, all came; the other duenna DoÑa Elizabeth de Alderete was left behind at Villagarcia to look after DoÑa Ana of Austria; the duenna came in very much overcome, and knelt down before D. John to kiss his hand; but he, touched and smiling and always full of fun, lifted the frail old woman in the air like a feather, and clasped her in his arms, and, seeing JeromÍn, she dared just to press the smooth, noble forehead of the future conqueror of Lepanto with her lips. What joy for her this embrace of her beloved JeromÍn, and what an honour and glory to have kissed the forehead of this august prince, for whom she—she and nobody else—had sewn and tried on his first breeches!

The satisfaction lasted the good woman to the end of her days, and in her will, made three years later at Villagarcia, she left D. John her savings, 320 ducats, to redeem captives of Lepanto, who were to give honour to D. John and to pray for her soul.

CHAPTER IV

D. John started from Madrid to embark at Barcelona on Wednesday, the 6th of June, 1571, at three o'clock in the afternoon. He was accompanied only by his Master of the Horse D. Luis de CÓrdoba, his gentleman D. Juan de GÚzman, the secretary Juan de Soto, the valet Jorge de Lima, a caterer, a cook, two D. Juanillos or fools, two couriers, a guide and three servants, in all fifteen horses. The rest of his following and servants had been divided into two parties, one which went on ahead with his Lord Steward the Conde de Priego, and the other which followed under the chamberlain D. Rodrigo de Benavides. D. John had arranged this in order to set out more quietly, and to avoid the manifestations of the love and enthusiasm of the people of Madrid, which he well knew not to be to the taste of certain personages. His precaution, however, was useless, because the people got wind of his departure, and from the morning waited in the little square of Santiago, watching for his coming, and when he got to the gate of Guadalajara, the crowd was so great, that it overflowed into the country and extended all along the side of the road.

The magnificent Roman gate called Guadalajara still existed then, its strong blocks of rock united by an enormous arch with railings and balustrades of the same golden stone. Above this archway, and standing out bravely between two towers, was the beautiful chapel with two altars, one to venerate the figure of Our Lady, called la Mayor, the other that of a Guardian Angel, with a naked sword in his right hand and a model of Madrid in his left. All travellers used to pray there, and following the usual custom, D. John alighted and mounted to the chapel; and he appeared afterwards at the railing to bow to the people, who were acclaiming him, and such were the cries of blessing, good-byes and hurrahs, that, according to a writer of the time, "it resounded more than was necessary in some crooked ears."

D. John slept that night at Guadalajara, in the country house of the Duque del Infantado, who was waiting there for D. John, with his two brothers D. Rodrigo and D. Diego de Mendoza, his brother-in-law the Duque de Medina de Rioseco, and the Conde de Orgaz, all most intimate friends of D. John. He spent Thursday there, and on Friday, after dinner, continued his journey, with more haste and courage, says Vander Hammen, than pleased those who followed him. D. John truly journeyed with a light heart, and the way seemed long which separated him from his dreams of glory. His absolute confidence in DoÑa Magdalena and her promises had dispelled the fears he had for his mother's future, and the affectionate farewell, and fatherly, prudent warnings of his brother the King, had made him believe that the murmurs and tittle-tattle of those envious of him had made no impression on the severe monarch. So D. John was at peace, and he smiled at life, as fortune smiled on him; he received everywhere honours and ovations, and, what pleased him more, sincere marks of love and appreciation. A courier overtook him at Calatayud with a papal brief and letters from Marco Antonio Colonna, General of the pontifical fleet, and from the Cardinal Granvelle, temporary Viceroy of Naples, urging him to come to Messina, which was the meeting-place of the fleets of the Holy League.

He stopped two days at Montserrat to visit the celebrated sanctuary of the Virgin, and on Saturday, the 16th of June, he entered Barcelona at five in the evening, amidst the salutes of artillery on land and sea, the pealing of bells and the cheers of an enormous crowd. The Prior D. Hernando de Toledo, who was Viceroy of Catalonia, received him, with all the magistrates and nobility and the Knight Commander D. Luis de Requesens, D. John's naval lieutenant, who had been awaiting him there for three days. The city overflowed with the noise and animation natural to a seaport on the eve of the embarkation of a great enterprise. Flags were plentiful at sea, and on land soldiers, adventurers, and those seeking to be enlisted, long strings of slaves destined to row in the galleys, noble volunteers with brilliant suites, workmen from other arsenals who had come to work in these dockyards, merchandise of all kinds, pedlars, friars looking for souls, women seeking gain, and the curious who thronged the streets and encumbered the dock, already full of chests of provisions and ammunition, piles of arms, and pieces of artillery waiting to be put on board ship.

D. John was in his element, and with intelligent and methodical activity at once began to receive information and to take measures to hasten the embarkation. He took counsel of the Knight Commander, the Viceroy of Catalonia, and the secretary Juan de Soto, and decided first to send an urgent message to the MarquÉs de Santa Cruz, who was at Cartagena, and to Sancho de Leiva and Gil de Andrade, who were waiting at Majorca, to come with the galleys they commanded to Barcelona; these last were to bring all the biscuit they possibly could. The Archdukes Rudolph and Ernest then arrived, as they were to embark with D. John to go from Genoa to their own home, and the next day, at four o'clock in the afternoon, the merry pealing of all the bells and the shouts of the people announced that the galleys of Gil Andrade and of Sancho de Leiva were in sight.

They entered the bay at nine that night, in battle array, with beautiful illuminations on yards and sides, firing salutes of arquebuses, which were answered by all the cannon of the city's walls and dockyards.

D. John's royal galley came with these, the same built for him on his first expedition against the corsairs of the Mediterranean. The next morning, very early, he went to visit her, and was pleased with the new improvements, made under Sancho de Leiva's directions, following the original plan of Bergamesco and Tortilla. The hull had been carefully careened, the paintings and ornaments renovated, the sails and rigging renewed, and the artillery reinforced. The figure-head was changed, and instead of the former Hercules with his club was a Neptune, holding his trident, riding on a dolphin, and at the stern a new goddess—Thetis, between two golden eagles with black outlines, and above two life-sized lions, also gilded, supporting the arms of the King, those of D. John of Austria, and the Golden Fleece, whose chains ran along each side, standing out well on the red background, and joining at the prow. The old lantern with its statue of Fame had disappeared, and in its place, crowning the stern, were three great lanterns of bronze and copper, gilt outside and silvered inside, with figures of Faith, Hope and Charity, more than a palm high. The deck of the round-house was also new, formed of ninety squares of walnut, with outlines of ebony, boxwood, tin and blue enamel, with a large flower in gilt bronze in the centre of each; one could open these squares by means of a key, and beneath appeared chests in which were stored, in beautiful little wicker baskets, fresh bread, fruit, and all the service for the table. The crew wore as uniform jerkins of crimson damask, with little caps of the same, and the greatest order and cleanliness reigned everywhere.

D. John was very pleased with his galley, and on the 1st of July he took his two nephews, the Archdukes Rudolph and Ernest, to visit her and gave them a collation. The galley was decked with streamers and pennons, and was adorned from stem to stern with red cloth, with many flowers and ribbons and crimson damask, which covered the bows. They arrived in a big boat, all hung with tapestry, and with a canopy of damask at the stern, under which their Highnesses sat; the twelve rowers wearing jerkins of crimson damask, and caps of the same slashed and trimmed with gold and feathers.

When the Princes embarked on the galley, the slaves made their "salva de forzado," which was a kind of song, or rather a sad complaining but not disagreeable cry, by which these wretches implored mercy of the visitors. Then a royal salute was fired from all her guns, which was answered by the galleys in the port. The Princes sat at a table in front of the roundhouse, under an awning of damask with crimson and white stripes, and there was served a collation of fruit, sweetmeats, green and cool drinks, which the heat of the day made delicious.

Meanwhile, at the stern a band of musicians dressed in turquoise brocade were playing, and to their music the crew were executing a sort of flying dance, jumping, climbing, and doing a thousand feats among the yards, topsails, masts and rigging, with such agility, quickness and order that it was a spectacle of real merit.

When the Princes rose, the Viceroy, the Knight Commander and all the gentlemen of the suites were served at the same table, with equal plenty, and at nightfall D. John regained the Viceroy's palace, where he was living, and where was waiting for him the greatest blow, perhaps, he ever received in his life, as it was the first and the most unexpected.

CHAPTER V

During the absence of D. John on the royal galley that afternoon a courier had arrived at Barcelona from the Court, bearing various letters from the King, all in D. Philip's writing, and one of them, dated the 17th of June, or six days after D. John had left Madrid, caused the latter the bitterest and deepest dismay. It is not recorded what the orders of D. Philip were which caused such distress to D. John of Austria; but judging from the two letters which he wrote then, and from other preceding and following ones, it is certain that following other orders, unknown to us, this letter also brought reproaches, more or less severe, from D. Philip to his brother, for having allowed himself to be addressed as Highness, and for having accepted the honours due to an Infante, which on all sides were given him; forbidding D. John in future to accept these honours, which the King had not granted him, and saying that a letter from Antonio PÉrez was coming with a copy of the instructions which had been sent to the ministers in Italy, respecting the way in which D. John was to be received and addressed, and he was to keep strictly to these same instructions.

D. John was thunderstruck at this letter, and it amazed the faithful secretary Juan de Soto, the only person to whom D. John dared to confide it. Up to a certain point the fact was true, because it is certain that nobles and people, great and small, regarded and respected D. John, both in Spain and out of it, as an Infante of Castille, as he was a son of the great Emperor and brother to the present King, and because his personal gifts and deeds made him worthy of the high dignity. But that which was the spontaneous act of nations and peoples had been transformed by those envious of D. John into intrigues and presumptuous efforts to occupy a rank he did not possess, and this had been treacherously whispered in the Monarch's ear. It seems certain that D. John's enemies had carried their tittle-tattle and misrepresentations to Philip II himself; it was also certain that he believed them, and equally certain—and this is what so pained D. John's loyal heart—that D. Philip had hidden his displeasure as King and brother, and had said good-bye to him with false words of kindness and confidence, condemning him unheard, in his absence, and deputing a minister to sanction, by a letter, the grave humiliation which he was imposing.

D. John's youthful blood boiled at these thoughts, and, depressed and dismayed under the weight of his first disillusion, he seriously thought of renouncing his dreams of glory, and of taking refuge in the ecclesiastical state, as the Emperor, his father, had counselled, as being quieter and more peaceful. Juan de Soto comforted him with much wise reasoning, and for his counsel and encouragement wrote to the Prince de Évoli, to whom Soto owed his appointment as secretary, the following letter, asking for advice and explanations, which clearly shows the trouble and fears which perturbed him:

"Lord Ruy GÓmez, as you well know of H.M.'s new wishes for me since I came here, I will not weary you by mentioning them; but availing myself of your knowledge, and the permission you gave me to go to you as to a father about my concerns, I will say that I have resented and do feel it, as I cannot help doing; not so much, my lord, is my vanity wounded—as I take God to witness that I am free from that—but it gives me much pain that I, alone in the world, have deserved such fresh orders, as I lived in the utmost confidence that H.M. would show to all that he held to me, and that he would be pleased by my being more honoured. I confess that the disfavour of putting me on the common level has wounded me so much that at times I feel inclined to find some other way of serving God and H.M., as in the one I am following I am so clearly shown that I do not succeed; however, if anything deters me, it is that, as I do not deserve it, it is not H.M.'s wish, but that of someone who has more influence with him than I have. Consequently, then, Lord Ruy GÓmez, if one could see through people, perhaps those who enjoy the public confidence would have most need of advisers and of reform, and this truth I feel the more as the present and future punishment is bitter, not through the fault of those less opinionated, who have less say in the matter, but by means of those who through being so much in favour, and this is certainly seen, show themselves finding fault in every way. All this moves me to speak and hear others more than to be silent, believing that I am pursued by false stories; at all events, I have great cause to complain, when you come to think of the little value that has been placed on all that I have done, to find myself, which is what I feel most, now ordered by H.M. to be placed on a level with those whom God, having made me his brother, did not place between him and me. I well know that my services do not deserve crowns of laurel; but that what I desired to arrive at, and for which I worked, should be so little esteemed, and that instead of being appreciated it should be thought less of by H.M. is what weighs on my mind. I put my trust again in you, whom I implore without keeping anything back to write and tell me what are the causes of H.M. treating me thus, because if you will only let me know that I do not deserve his favours, I would rather serve him in some other way than weary him in my present one. On which matters, if it appears well to you, I would like you to talk to him and give me your advice, reminding him how much he will be worthy of God's pleasure in acting as a father to one who has no other, but a thousand people who will take advantage of my youth and want of experience to compass my ruin, as if that were an honour and glory to them. And as far as this concerns me I again commend myself and it to your notice, to you whom alone I entirely trust.

CARDINAL DE GRANVELLE
From his portrait by Gaetano in MusÉes Municipaux, BesanÇon

But not satisfied with this, and thinking that it was disloyal not to tell the King what he was feeling, he wrote this other letter on the 12th of July, humble and submissive, as a vassal of the King, but dignified, loyal and energetic, as was always his heart and conduct.

"Sir! For the grace and favour Y.M. has done me by writing with your own hand, from the bottom of my heart I kiss your hands. I have also received the instructions and other dispatches for my journey, and they have arrived in such good time that it annoys me how much is being lost here, and consequently so much for Y.M.'s service; every day I expect the MarquÉs de Santa Cruz, on whose arrival we can set out, as everything is ready. As to following the instructions and opinions of those whom Y.M. has designated to help and counsel me, particularly the Knight Commander, I will certainly do so, as I know it is my duty, and this being so, it will be my pleasure to care for Y.M.'s affairs, with as much sincerity and prudence as the one I am at present entrusted with. In truth, I have no other desire, and it is my duty to arrive at this object, postponing the things of less importance, and Y.M. must not doubt that I will continue to act thus, and I beg you to tell me always what I do not understand, for, as I have written before, I trust so little to my youth, experience and judgment, that I well see the want I have of another's help; for which reason I again beg Y.M., with all humility, that you will continue to warn and reprimand me as you think well (after having heard) of what I have left undone, because it will not be want of devotion which will prevent me doing my duty. The instructions Y.M. gave me on my first setting out on a galley, I look on as very precious, and they will be the more so now that I realise that it gave Y.M. pleasure, and nothing I hold dearer than fulfilling your desires.

"I answered the Pope as the Knight Commander thought it was best not to wait for Y.M.'s reply; and that it was well to let him know how the matter stood: however, in future I will keep such things secret.

"You have done me a great favour in ordering Antonio PÉrez to let me know what he is writing to the ministers in Italy, about the way I am to be addressed, and not only shall I be very pleased to conform to the wishes of Y.M. in this, but also it will be my delight to guess your desires, in order that I may follow them as I ought to do; only I make bold to say, with all the humility and respect due, that it would be a boundless favour and grace if Y.M. would be pleased to communicate directly with me about what you desire, for two reasons; the chief one being that it is now your pleasure that any of your ministers should confer with me as to your wishes, as none of them are under as great an obligation to do them as I am; the other reason is that before leaving I ought to have given some notice that what Y.M. wished should have been done and with less fuss; and inasmuch as God has made me Y.M.'s brother, I cannot help saying, or continuing to feel, that personally I am worth little, but when everyone thought that I deserved more from Y.M., and expected to see it, by Y.M.'s orders I see exactly the opposite, putting me on the common level, which I do not deserve, because I have put the service of Y.M. before vanity and everything else, of which God is my witness, and it has given me so much pain to see how little you are satisfied with me, that often I think that if it is Y.M.'s pleasure I will seek some other way of serving you, as in the present one I seem so unfortunate in obtaining what I yearn for. Meanwhile I will obey Y.M.'s orders as far as possible, although it will be difficult amid the adulation I am told exists in Italy. Y.M. will believe me that I desire neither honour nor good except that with it one can serve the better, but the consideration of this detail does not affect me, only to execute your orders, which for no reason will I fail to do.

"Our Lord, etc. From Barcelona, July 12, 1571."

This was the first sign that Philip II gave his brother D. John of Austria of the unjust want of confidence which the ingenious Antonio PÉrez knew how to sow in his path, to whom belongs the doubtful honour of being the only man who for long years could deceive and often pervert the straight and calm judgment of the prudent Monarch.

CHAPTER VI

When for the first time D. John of Austria trod Italian soil, on disembarking at Genoa, he hastened to send his old Lord Steward D. Hernando de Carillo, Conde de Priego, to Rome, to kiss, in his name, the Pope's foot, to thank him for his appointment of Generalissimo, and to declare himself the most submissive and obedient of his sons. The Pope answered the steward in the words which he had already written in his brief: "That I consider him a son, that he must hasten to fight, as, in the name of God, I assure him victory, and for his honour and advancement I promise him the first kingdom conquered from the Turk." At the same time D. John sent D. Miguel de Moncada to Venice, to visit the Signory, also in his name to cheer them, and tell them that in a very short time he would be at Messina to settle what was best to be done.

The reception accorded to D. John at Genoa confused and perplexed him, after the blow that he had received in Barcelona, and he called upon the Knight Commander and Juan de Soto to witness that he had neither sought these honours, nor was there any possibility of refusing them.

He did, in fact, receive in Genoa that which had never been granted before: the Doge in person and all the Signory awaited him at the foot of the landing-place, and the Dukes of Savoy, Parma, Florence, Ferrara, Mantua and all the cities of Lombardy sent their representatives to welcome him. Gian Andrea Doria lodged D. John in his palace, and in his honour gave a splendid masked ball, at which the Generalissimo delighted everyone with his great skill in the complicated dances of the day.

The greatest lords of Italy were assembled at Genoa, craving to be allowed to fight under his orders as volunteers; the best known of them were the Prince of Parma, Alexander Farnese, and the Duke of Urbino, Francesco de la Rovere, who was twenty-two, and had just married Lucrezia of Este, daughter of the Duke of Ferrara. Accompanied by his brilliant staff, which the most powerful king might have envied, on the 10th of August D. John disembarked at Naples, where the celebrated Antonio de Perronet, Cardinal Granvelle was temporary Viceroy owing to the death of the Duque de AlcalÁ. He was much too clever and politic to oppose the wave of sympathy which flowed towards D. John throughout Italy, and allowed the enthusiasm of the Neapolitans to show itself freely, limiting himself, according to the instructions of D. Philip II, in not, as everyone else did, addressing D. John as Highness.

At Naples was to be given to D. John of Austria the standard of the League and the baton of Generalissimo, blessed by the Pope, who had sent it there by Count Gentil de Saxatelo. Cardinal Granvelle was commissioned by the Holy Pontiff to make the presentation, and he arranged the ceremony with the greatest pomp and magnificence, in the Church of the Franciscan convent of St. Clara. On the 14th the ceremony took place; the first to arrive at St. Clara's was the Cardinal, in order to receive D. John in the porch. This famous statesman was already over fifty; he still retained his upright and handsome presence, about which, with more or less reason, there was so much gossip in his day, his beard, already quite white, fell, carefully combed, on his breast, and his rich scarlet vestments were as correct in their ecclesiastical cut as ever were the secular ones of such a dandy as D. John of Austria. But it was not in a courtier's fine clothes, but in the garb of war, that D. John arrived, as being more suitable to the leader who was about to receive the insignia of Christendom on the eve of battle. He wore a light Milanese coat of mail of white steel, richly inlaid with gold; the collar of the Golden Fleece round his neck, and on his helmet a goodly plume of feathers of the colours of the League; his horse was black, also covered with white steel, cut out and fastened on crimson velvet, with arms, tassels, feathers and allegorical figures on the crupper and headpiece. Similar dress was worn by the greater part of his enormous suite, among which was the flower of the chivalry of Italy and Spain.

D. John advanced to the steps of the high altar with the Princes of Parma and Urbino, and sat in front of them on a high seat covered with brocade. On the Gospel side were displayed the standard and baton on a dresser with many lights and flowers. The standard was very big, suitable for a galley of the largest size; all of blue brocade with great tassels and silken cords; embroidered on it was a great crucifix with many arabesques of silk and gold round it, and at the foot the arms of the Pope, with those of the King of Spain on the right hand, and those of the Signory of Venice on the left, and those of D. John underneath, all surrounded with an embroidered golden chain, to signify the union of the League between the three nations. The baton was also symbolical, forming three batons united by a ribbon, splendidly carved, with handle and chape of gold adorned with jewels and engraved with the three coats of arms encircled by a chain. It measured about 24 inches in length, by about 2-1/2 in diameter.

Cardinal Granvelle celebrated the Pontifical Mass, and at the end of it D. John of Austria mounted to the chancel, and, kneeling in front of the altar, received from the hands of Granvelle, first the baton and then the standard, with these words, which the Cardinal said over three times in Latin, Spanish and Italian: "Take, fortunate Prince, the insignia of the true Word made flesh; take the living sign of the holy faith of which this enterprise is the defender. He gives thee glorious victory over the impious enemy, whose pride shall be humbled by thy hand." Then a shout burst out in the church, and a thousand voices, with one accord, cried "Amen! Amen."

Then a brilliant military procession was formed to carry the standard from the church to the port; it was carried, furled, on the back of a white horse, whose crimson velvet cloth dragged on the ground, led by two captains who took it in turns. Behind came the Lord D. John, carrying the baton of Generalissimo, followed by the brilliant suite, all with drawn swords, as if ready to defend the insignia of the Holy League. It was at length hoisted at the magnificent stern of the royal galley at one o'clock. D. John himself directed this, and the fleet and the port saluted him with a formidable salvo of artillery, muskets and arquebuses, which lasted more than half an hour.

D. John then embraced Count Gentil de Saxatelo, who had brought the baton and standard, and threw round his neck a golden chain worth 400 crowns.

CHAPTER VII

Meanwhile in the port of Messina Marco Antonio Colonna and Sebastian Veniero, with the Pontifical and Venetian fleets, awaited the coming of D. John of Austria. The delay made the two Generals impatient, especially Veniero, an irascible, vehement, fiery old man of seventy, who saw with anxiety the season advancing and the provisions being consumed during that useless delay. Colonna shared his fears and impatience, and a dreadful blow, moreover, came to distract him at this supreme moment. His angelic daughter Giovanna Colonna, Duchess de Mondragone, died suddenly in Rome, and this unexpected sorrow plunged him in the deepest grief. He retired to his galley, not wishing to see anyone, and ordered that all the galleys of his fleet should be painted black; the ropes and the sails were also to be stained black, and the lanterns, escutcheon and flags covered with crape. This sombre mourning fleet anchored in the port was looked on as a bad omen in Messina, and sinister rumours of fresh pillage by the Turks in Corfu, and that their fleet was hastening to fall on Sicily, caused great alarm among this superstitious and fanatic people, which neither the news that D. John had left Naples nor the sumptuous preparations for his reception sufficed to calm. On the 23rd of August, at noon, the Sicilian watchmen spied a numerous fleet, with all sails set, making for the lighthouse. Hope awoke in some, terror in others, for while all sensible people were certain that this was the expected fleet of D. John of Austria, the ignorant were frightened, and cried out that it was the dreaded Turk, and upset the town with their shouting and hurrying to and fro. The two fleets, Pontifical and Venetian, set out to meet the coming one, and on the weighing of the anchors of Colonna's mourning ships, a great clamour arose among the superstitious populace, begging that if he left he would not return, because this black fleet could only bring desolation and death to Messina. Two miles beyond the entrance of the straits the two fleets met that of D. John, and the joy and enthusiasm were equal on both sides. Marco Antonio left his captain's cabin for the first time, and boarded the royal galley to kiss D. John of Austria's hand; but he ran to meet the afflicted father, and took him in his arms, and pressed him to his heart. Marco Antonio Colonna was the picture of a great Italian noble of his day: tall, well made, and of proud bearing, an oval face, with a wide, bare forehead, and big moustaches getting grey, although he was only thirty-five. He was of great intelligence, very brave and magnanimous, and had the soul of a poet.

The effect of the entrance into Messina of the three united fleets cannot be described. From the most saintly Christian hope to the most animal instinct of self-preservation, all passions, ideas and sentiments of which human nature is capable, joyfully united to bless and welcome the realisation of their hopes and the overcoming of their fears, represented at that moment by the Generalissimo D. John of Austria.

He entered Messina by the Royal Gate, under a triumphal arch which ran out to the sea, and was twenty-five poles in length; there were three stories and three arches on each front, and 128 columns, which divided the niches, pedestals and divisions of the endless statues, emblems, inscriptions and couplets which adorned them, this great fabric ending in a colossal figure of D. John of Austria, with the vanquished Moors of Granada at his feet. Perhaps what was greatest and strongest among all this magnificence was the quiet nature of the youth of twenty-four, who, far from being made vainglorious by all this adulation, said humbly to his lieutenant, the Knight Commander: "They give me this in advance; I trust to God that I shall pay the debt."

D. John assembled all the leaders and generals at once, more to greet them than to hold a Council, as he fancied some of them were vacillating from fear, and he preferred to await the arrival of the fresh Nuncio, whom the Pope was sending to uphold his valorous designs. The Nuncio, Mons. Odescalchi, Bishop of Penna, came with a great following of Capuchins, Dominicans, Jesuits and Franciscans, whom the Pope sent to serve the galleys; he also brought letters for D. John and Marco Antonio Colonna, exhorting them without hesitation to give battle to the Turk, as in God's name he assured them of victory. D. John did not require such advice, and had, with much prudence and cleverness, been meanwhile preparing the Council, according to what the great Duque de Alba indicates in the following letter: "Before proposing the matter at a Council," wrote the Duke from Brussels to D. John, "it would be well to talk familiarly with each of the Councillors, commending them to secrecy, and in this way learning their opinion, which is a very good thing to do; as the person to whom Y.E. thus talks will feel very much honoured and will be grateful to Y.E. for the confidence placed in him; and will tell Y.E. freely what he thinks. Because it often happens in the Council that the soldiers wish to get the best of each other, but having already told Y.E. their opinion, they will not fall into this error, or contradict those to whom they owe a grudge for the sake of contradicting, which is a common habit. And Y.E. having heard all, will have time to think over the pros and cons which each one has put forward; and when you go to the Council you will have made up your mind. Because while hearing and questioning each one, Y.E. must never tell anyone your own opinion, except to those whom H.M. has ordered you, or it is Y.E.'s pleasure to consult. In Council do not allow them to be obstinate; it is well to discuss matters, but private obstinacy Y.E. must never allow, as it will lower your authority. And Y.E. will be bound, and it will be a very good thing sometimes, to summon to a great Council the field-marshals, and some colonels and captains, and those who can be called to such councils, to give them a taste of public business, because it will give much satisfaction to people a grade lower than those summoned."

In this way D. John more or less knew the opinions of all the Council when he convoked it for nine o'clock on the morning of the 10th of September. There assembled that day on board the galley "Real" seventy persons, among whom were thirty officers; it was presided over by the Nuncio Odescalchi, the honour being conceded to him by D. John, out of respect for the Pontiff. The Nuncio spoke first in the name of the Pope, and in a brave speech, full of faith and enthusiasm, exhorted them to set out without losing time to seek the Turk, and to offer him battle without hesitation; such was the wish of the Pope, and, in the name of God, he promised them victory. Then the old Conde de Priego rose, who had just been able to appreciate for himself the holiness of Pius V, and without more words or arguments, said that if the Pope desired fighting and promised them victory in the name of God, it was impiety and madness to shut their ears and fail in the enterprise. All the captains were fervent Catholics and friends of the Pope, but most of them did not equal D. John of Austria's old steward in faith and enthusiasm. One of them, a long, thin man, with a pointed head, sunken eyes and a flat nose, who looked more like a Barbary corsair than an Italian prince, slowly rose, and with much pompousness and dignity said, "That he thought it rash to provoke the Turk so late in the season in those seas, and it was, in his opinion, safer to concentrate all the forces of the Holy League against Tunis, than to expose themselves to a defeat from such a formidable sea power as Selim II, up to then invincible." The proposal pleased many, because the courage of the man who made it was above suspicion; he was none other than Gian Andrea Doria, one of the most experienced mariners and bravest captains of his day. However, Marco Antonio Colonna openly contradicted him, proposing a prompt and decisive battle, according to the wish of the Pope, and turning to D. John, whose desire to fight he knew, repeated in public what he had said in private:

"Etiamsi oportet me mori, non te negabo."

Sebastian Veniero upheld Colonna with great vehemence, and the two Venetian commissaries Barbarigo and Quirini, and then D. John breathed freely, because once the two other Generals of the League were agreed, he, as Generalissimo, only had to make up the quarrel. He, however, allowed all to talk who wished to do so, some for and some against, and when they had finished, he contented himself with saying, "Enough, gentlemen; all that remains to be done is to hasten the departure and set out in search of victory."

Very simple words certainly, but they were undoubtedly the most heroic in all the story of Lepanto, because it required superhuman courage to undertake the responsibility of an enterprise so dangerous, that men of the stamp of Gian Andrea Doria recoiled before it.

D. John began his preparations for his departure by visiting all the forts and the vessels anchored in the port, which amounted to 200 galleys, fifty-six ships, six formidable galliasses, and more than 80,000 soldiers, counting mercenaries and volunteers. D. John found all the fleet well supplied and prepared, except the Venetian galleys, which were very short of soldiers; this the Generalissimo remedied by dividing among them four Spanish regiments, two of veterans and two of recruits, which wounded the pride of the Venetians, and was the cause of the trouble and danger we shall hear of later. In the galley "Marchesa," of the Pontifical fleet, D. John passed an obscure soldier, whom he did not particularly notice, but whose fame, nevertheless, was to compete with his own in the coming ages; he was Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra. So it happens sometimes in life; two geniuses brush against each other without knowing it, separate personages to whom Providence allots similar destinies. D. John distributed the monks sent by the Pope among the various galleys, the Capuchins to the Pontifical ships, the Franciscans to those of Genoa, Venice and Savoy, and the Jesuits to the Spanish ones. On board the "Real" was the Franciscan Fr. Miguel Servia, confessor to D. John, and two other Jesuits, H. Briones and Father Cristobal Rodriguez, a man of great learning and virtue, who had been a prisoner of the Turk. Pius V much esteemed Father Cristobal Rodriguez, and entrusted him to tell D. John very privately and with great insistency what he had conveyed to him by other channels: not to hesitate to give battle, as, in the name of God, he promised victory. He also conveyed from the Pope a piece of the True Cross, an inch long and half an inch wide, in a clumsy reliquary of silver with two angels at the sides: it was the wish of the Pontiff that D. John should wear it on his breast during the battle.

Meanwhile Mons. Odescalchi promulgated a plenary jubilee which the Pope had granted to all on board the armada who had confessed, communicated, and prayed to God for victory against the Turk.

The forces all fasted for three days to prepare themselves to gain these spiritual graces, and there was not a soldier, sailor or galley slave who did not confess and communicate, and receive from the hands of the Nuncio a wax Agnus Dei blessed by the Pope, the Generalissimo D. John of Austria setting the example with all the leaders and officers. Then they organised a solemn procession of rogation and the Pontifical Nuncio, wearing vestments, conceded from the high altar to all those who were to fight the same graces that the Church had granted to the conquerors of the Holy Sepulchre. On the 16th of September the fleet at last left Messina for Corfu, and the Nuncio, in a small vessel at the entrance of the port, blessed the galleys and smaller vessels, one by one, as they passed.

CHAPTER VIII

The fleet moved away carefully, to prevent any surprise from the Turk, in the order and formation planned by D. John, and communicated in writing to all the Field-Marshals, Colonels, Captains, Sergeant-Majors and other officers. In the vanguard was D. Juan de Cardona, with three Sicilian and four Venetian galleys. He was followed on the right wing at a distance of twenty miles during the day and eight at night by fifty galleys, under the orders of Gian Andrea Doria. Behind, on the left wing, were fifty-three galleys, commanded by the Commissary Agostino Barbarigo. Then came the centre division of the fleet, consisting of sixty-two galleys, commanded by the Generalissimo D. John of Austria; on the right of the "Real" was the flagship of Marco Antonio Colonna, on the left that of Sebastian Veniero. The rearguard of thirty galleys, commanded by the MarquÉs de Santa Cruz, was a mile behind. None of these divisions were formed of the galleys of one nation only, they were all intermingled, nor did they fly their own flags, only a pennant of the colour the Generalissimo had selected as a distinguishing mark. Doria's pennants were green, Barbarigo's yellow, Don John's blue, and those of the MarquÉs de Santa Cruz white. The "Real" and the flagships, instead of these, flew broad pennants of their respective colours.

The fleet cast anchor that night in the roadstead of San Giovanni, and at dawn they erected a tent on the shore, in front of the "Real," and before weighing anchor celebrated the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, as it was not then lawful to celebrate it on board ship. At the elevation of the Host so loud were the cries and shouts with which the whole fleet besought the God of Battles for triumph over those whom they were pursuing, that the clamour drowned the noise of the drums and clarions and the salutes of the artillery as they rolled across the waves.

The Armada of the Holy League cast anchor at Corfu on the morning of the 28th of September; there were no signs there of the whereabouts of the Turk, but on all sides the island showed the marks of his devastating steps. Then D. John sent Gil de Andrade with four galleys in search of news, and meanwhile embarked the considerable reinforcements of artillery, ammunition, victuals and soldiers which the Venetians had kept there ready.

On the night of the 28th a frigate arrived at Corfu from Cephalonia, sent by Gil de Andrade, bringing word that the Turks were at Lepanto, and, without doubt, flying from battle, and retiring to their winter quarters, because their Generalissimo Ali Pasha had taken leave of the Viceroy of Algiers, Aluch Ali, with his 110 galleys; so that the Ottoman fleet was reduced to 180 galleys; but unfortunately, these tidings were absolutely false. It was true that the Ottoman Armada was at Lepanto, and also that the Viceroy of Algiers, Aluch Ali, had separated himself, with his galleys, from it; but it was only a temporary absence, to reconnoitre the archipelago, and he was already back at Lepanto, where the whole powerful fleet was, much superior to the Christian one, and, far from fleeing from fighting, they were trying to provoke a battle. This mistake on the part of the Christians, and a similar one, as we shall see, on the part of the Turks, was no doubt the simple means which Providence employed to bring about the decisive combat between the Cross and the Crescent, which could have been effected in no other way.

D. John, satisfied with this information, ordered the decks to be cleared for action, and this time, in agreement with all the Generals, decided to wait at Gomenizza, while the wind, then contrary, did not permit them to make for Lepanto. The bay of Gomenizza is on the Albanian coast, thirty miles south-east of the port of Corfu, and there for the last time discord managed to upset the plans God was unfolding. This was on the 2nd of October, and the order had already been given to have everything in readiness for sailing the next morning at daybreak. Consequently there reigned in all the galleys the confusion that such manoeuvres always bring, and on the Venetian Áquila, whose Captain was a native of Crete, Andres Calergi, two Spanish arquebusiers were disputing with a Venetian sailor as to whether or no the latter had come against them with the end of a yard; the contention became general, owing to the bad feeling between the Spanish arquebusiers and the Venetian sailors, who looked upon them as interlopers on their ships, and it was all aggravated by the Captain, Muzio Alticozzi, taking part. He was a quarrelsome, wrong-headed man, who had already got himself into trouble with the law; words changed to blows, and then arms were used with such rage and violence, that in a few moments the deck was covered with many wounded and some dead bodies. The Ammiraglio, or head of the police, hastened with four boatswains, sent by Sebastian Veniero himself, to make peace, arrest Muzio, and end the fight. But Muzio was not a man to let himself be taken easily, and seizing the first arquebus he could find, he stretched the Ammiraglio dead with a ball in his chest, and put the boatswains to flight, wounding two of them. Meanwhile the Colonel of the arquebusiers, Paolo Sforza, flew to the flagship of Veniero, begging him to go in person to quiet his men, and already blind with rage, threatening to throw him overboard and also to sink his galley, the old Venetian sent his Captain to go on board the ship which was the scene of the struggle. He went on board at the head of his sailors, arrested Muzio and two of the most turbulent Spaniards, and in less than ten minutes the fleet could see all three hanging from a yard.

Photo Anderson
SEBASTIAN VENIERO, DOGE OF VENICE
By Titian. Prado Gallery, Madrid

Sebastian Veniero's usurpation of the exclusive right of the Generalissimo to administer justice was so great and grave an offence against the person of D. John and the King of Spain, whom he represented, that on seeing the corpses swinging in space, in all the fleet there was a moment of terrified silence; the same idea, the same thought of danger, crossed all minds and dismayed all hearts, and without an order being given, or a word spoken, or a signal made, the Venetian galleys were seen slowly grouping themselves round Veniero's ship, and the Spanish and Pontifical ones falling back in order to surround that of the Generalissimo D. John of Austria, all the artillerymen charging their guns, the sailors sharpening their axes, and the soldiers, without a word, seizing their pikes and arquebuses. A stray shot, an ill-timed cry, and farewell to the Holy League, and Christian would have fallen on Christian, the Turks a mile away, and the whole future of Europe and the triumph of the Cross at stake!

D. John was on deck with Juan de Soto and the Prince of Urbino, playing with a little monkey, which was a great amusement to him, when his attention was aroused by the shots and shouting. He at once asked the cause of the tumult, and before they could give him any reply, Colonel Paolo Sforza hurried on board the "Real," livid with rage, and with loud voice calling for justice against the injuries that Sebastian Veniero was doing him. D. John heard him with astonishment, hardly believing his own ears, when he saw slowly being raised, on the galley "Aquila," the yard from which were hanging the three Spanish arquebusiers. Then he was so furious that he walked up and down the bridge like a caged animal, muttering words which seemed like the growls of a lion when pierced by a spear. The Spanish Captains, mad with rage, came round him, the most moderate asking that the "Real" should attack the Venetian Admiral's ship and throw Veniero, laden with chains, into the hold. At the same moment from different directions, came on board the "Real" Marco Antonio Colonna, and a corpulent, vigorous old man with an enormous moustache, who was Agostino Barbarigo, coming to D. John with the greatest earnestness, begging for peace, offering explanations and shedding tears. D. John listened to them, leaning his elbows on the side of the ship, digging his nails into his chest until they drew blood, and so much did these two brave and honourable men do and say, that at length the rage of the Generalissimo softened, not little by little but all at once, as a hurricane ceases when God clips the wings of the storm, and, his great nature already freed from the chains of wrath which bound it, he turned to his Captains, who, almost in arms, were asking for vengeance and extreme measures, and said to them quietly, "I know better than anyone what I owe to the King, my brother, and to God, who has put me in this enterprise."

And he sent Barbarigo to tell Sebastian Veniero to go back at once to his flagship; that never was he to show himself on board the "Real," and that from that moment Barbarigo was appointed in his stead to represent Venice on the Council, and that he should prepare everything to weigh anchor that night, to make for Lepanto.

In the log kept on board the "Real" by D. John's confessor Fr. Miguel Servia, after referring to these events, it says: "This same day (3rd of October), by order of His Highness, a proclamation was made, that no soldier should let off an arquebus under pain of death; and His Highness went from ship to ship, giving orders as to what was to be done."

CHAPTER IX

Meanwhile the Turks had reinforced their fleet until their 290 galleys held 120,000 men, counting soldiers and rowers. They had, like the Christians, divided the fleet into three divisions: the centre one commanded by the great Admiral Ali Pasha, an arrogant young man, more brave than prudent, in all the pride of his youth and of being the favourite of Selim II; the right wing was under the orders of the King of Negroponto, Mahomet Scirocco, a cautious man of mature years, brave as well as experienced; and the left wing was commanded by the Viceroy of Algiers, Aluch Ali, surnamed "el Fartass," that is "The mean one," a former Calabrian renegade, an old man of sixty-eight, careful, brave and crafty, whom more than forty years of piracy had made familiar with these seas.

At Lepanto Ali Pasha received a message from Selim II, much to his satisfaction, ordering him to give battle, and in order to do this he assembled his Council of War on board his galley, "La Sultana," on the 4th of October. The Council consisted of the two Generals of the Fleet, Mahomet Scirocco and Aluch Ali, the Serasker or general of all the troops, Perter Pasha, and several great dignitaries of the Empire, to the number of twenty, among whom were the former King of Algiers, Hassen Pasha, and two sons of Ali, who were still children, Ahmed Bey, who was eighteen, and Mahomet Bey, aged thirteen, who with their tutor Alhamet commanded a galley.

The Turkish fleet was undeniably superior to the Christian, and wherein lay, perhaps, its greatest advantage was that it was not like the Christian fleet compounded of different elements, who might, and in fact did, have different and even opposing interests. Far from this, the Turks were all vassals of one lord, and neither desired glory or power for anything but the Empire. However, Selim II's order to give battle was vigorously opposed in the Council, and the first to do so was Aluch Ali, who, with many weighty reasons, drawn from his experience of Christian warfare, showed what harm defeat would entail. The Serasker Perter Pasha and Mahomet Scirocco agreed with him, being much perturbed over the six formidable galliasses of the Christians; these vessels, the greatest of their day, carried twenty cannon, and easily broke through any line of battle which confronted them.

Ali Pasha's arrogant petulance then turned to insolence; he jeered at the fears of the veterans, and told the Council of the information he had received from two spies, Kara Kodja and Kara Djali, Barbary corsairs, whom he had sent to reconnoitre the Christian fleet in Corfu; according to them it was so inferior in strength and numbers that it would have difficulty in resisting the attack of the Turks. Ali, however, did not know that this enumeration had been made while the vanguard of D. Juan de Cardona and the rearguard of the MarquÉs de Santa Cruz had been detached at Tarento with some other ships, and that, consequently, there only remained at the moment seventy galleys in the fleet of the League. Thus the confidence of both Generalissimos, Ali Pasha and D. John of Austria, was founded on the same error; D. John supposed that the galleys of Aluch Ali had separated themselves from the Turkish fleet, and were on their way to Algiers or Tripoli; and Ali Pasha, not reckoning on the ships of D. Juan de Cardona, or those of the MarquÉs de Santa Cruz, and in his ignorance of naval matters, which was great, failed to appreciate the importance of the six galliasses which old Mahomet Scirocco so much feared.

The discussions became embittered, until there was contention among the Ottoman leaders, to which Aluch Ali put an end by saying, "Silence, I am ready, because it is written that the youth of a Captain Pasha has more weight than my forty-three years of fighting. But the Berbers have made sport of you, Pasha! Remember this when the peril draws nigh."

Having said this with impassive Oriental gravity, Aluch Ali left to prepare his fleet. Then everyone was for Ali Pasha; but he, more for appearance than from fear or want of confidence, desired to send the corsair Kara Kodja to make fresh investigation of the enemy's strength. So the Barbary pirate set out from Lepanto with two galleys, and began to seek cautiously for the allied fleet; on the 5th he had crossed the long, narrow channel of Ithaca, which is at the extreme north of the bay of Samos, in Cephalonia, having to take refuge in the creek of Pilaros, owing to bad weather. D. John proposed to reach the isles of Curzolari from the north, and to shelter among these islands to rest the crews on the 6th, and to fall back suddenly on Cape Scropha on the 7th, surprising the Turkish fleet anchored at Lepanto. Kara Kodja, with daring, entered the channel of Ithaca with his two galleys, and discovered the allied fleet at Pilaros; but he had gone so far that the Christians, in their turn, discovered him and gave chase, and it was only by the great strength of his oarsmen, and because the wind favoured him, that he was able to escape. However, again this time God desired to blind this Barbary pirate, and in the hurry and fear of his flight his sharp eyes failed to see the ships that were sheltered behind a bend of the bay. So Kara Kodja thought that the fleet had not altered since he saw it at Corfu without its rear or vanguard, and returned triumphant to Lepanto, confident in his mistake, and he announced to Ali Pasha that the Christians were at Pilaros, in Cephalonia, and that there was nothing to diminish the enormous advantage the Turks had over them.

Ali Pasha wanted no second telling; he hurried to leave Lepanto, to go and cast anchor in the bay of Calydon, at the mouth of the gulf, only twelve miles distant from that fatal Cape Scropha, to which the Turks gave, the next day, the sinister name of Cape Sangriento.

D. John, meanwhile, was anchored in the port of Petala, seven miles from Cape Scropha, on the opposite side, without suspecting the proximity of the enemy. Therefore both fleets were resting on either side of the fatal point, like two enemies who, drawn through hatred, approach without knowing, lie in wait, and suddenly meet each other without expecting to do so, by rounding the same corner. D. John thought the Turks were at Lepanto, Ali imagined the Christians to be still in Cephalonia, and was going to seek them there. At daybreak on the 7th of October, 1571, D. John of Austria ordered the fleet to leave the port of Petala, and very carefully to go along the channel between the coast of Greece and Oxia, the last island of the Curzolari; in the latitude of Cape Scropha the watch on the "Real" made signals that two sails were in sight. Then the curious at once covered masts and yards, but it was not two sails that they saw; there were dozens and dozens which stood out against the blue of the sky and the blue of the sea, skimming the waves like a flock of white sea-gulls. There was no doubt; the enemy was in sight; the belligerents had met face to face turning the same corner. It was then seven o'clock in the morning.

D. John of Austria at once ordered his pilot, Cecco Pizano, to disembark on one of the high islets, to observe the strength of the enemy. From this height could be seen all the wide bay, and in it Pizano spied the Turkish fleet advancing, about twice as numerous as had been supposed, favoured by the breeze, which was hindering and embarrassing the manoeuvres of the Christians. The pilot was horrified at what he saw, and back on the "Real" he did not dare say what he had seen at such a critical moment, and contented himself with whispering in the Generalissimo's ear, "Put out your claws, my lord, for the job will be a tough one."

On hearing this D. John made no sign, and as at that moment several of his Captains came to ask him whether he would not hold a last Council, he answered blandly, "There is no time for anything but fighting."

And he at once ordered a small cannon on the "Real" to be fired, and a white flag to be run up in the centre of the galley, which was, ever since Messina, the signal for battle.

CHAPTER X

Calmness in the presence of danger had always been one of D. John of Austria's great qualities, and it did not fail him in this crisis. He refrained from telling anyone of the fears and anxieties that Cecco Pizano's information had inspired in him, and without wasting a second he at once began to take measures with that intelligence and orderly activity required by the art of war, seeing and taking in everything at a glance, making his arrangements without hurry or confusion.

He ordered that a little rowing and sailing galley, employed to transmit orders, should come alongside of the "Real," and he embarked in her with Juan de Soto and D. Luis de CÓrdoba, to visit, one by one, all the galleys of the centre division and of the right wing; those of the left he gave over to his lieutenant the Knight Commander, Luis de Requesens.

In all the galleys D. John gave orders, the forethought and prudence of which could be appreciated later. He ordered that in all the galleys the high peaks should be cut off, to ensure the more effectual working of the forward guns.

He made them take off the chains and give arms to those galley slaves who were condemned to row for ordinary offences, promising them pardon if they gave a good account of themselves in the fight. These poor creatures wept and embraced the boatswains who came to give them arms, swearing to die, as, in truth, most of them did, for the Faith, the King, and D. John of Austria. He also ordered on deck the best food in the holds, and leather bottles of wine to be divided among the crews, and then went among them to speak to them and to encourage them.

D. John went unarmed, with an ivory crucifix in his hand, that he afterwards gave to his confessor Fr. Miguel Servia, which existed in the convent of Jesus, outside the walls of Palma in Majorca until 1835. His words were not polished nor his arguments intricate; he only told them that they were fighting for the faith, and that there was no heaven for cowards. But he said it all so earnestly and courteously, and his declarations and promises so evidently came from his heart, that they filled all with enthusiasm and the wish to be brave, as if he were filling them with some of his own heroism.

He gave medals to some, money to others, to others scapularies and rosaries, and, when he had no more to give, he bestowed his hat on one and divided his gloves between two more. And when a Captain offered the galley slave who had received it fifty ducats for one of the gloves, the man promptly refused, and stuck it in his hat as if it had been the finest plume.

The two fleets came face to face at eleven o'clock in the morning, scarcely a league dividing them. Then in a moment Ali Pasha could understand the extent of his error, seeing ship after ship that he had not counted on coming up the narrow channel of Oxia, and Marco Antonio Arrozo narrates that, turning round to the Christian captives who were chained to the benches, he said to them, deadly pale, "Brothers! Do what is your duty in return for the good treatment I have given you. If I am victorious, I promise you liberty, and if to-day is your day, God gives it to you."

Then the crafty Aluch Ali proposed to tack so as to bring the Christian fleet under the fire of the entrance of the gulf; but the proud Ottoman leader answered that never should the galleys of the Padisha, under his command, offer even an appearance of flight. Meanwhile the two fleets were manoeuvring to form up for battle, the Ottoman one in the open sea, light and favoured by the wind, the Christian one heavy, and shut in by visible and invisible rocks which there surround the Curzolari islands, and hampered by the contrary wind. They spread out their left wing to the coast, getting quite close when the sounding allowed it, to prevent the Turkish galleys passing and attacking them from the rear. It was formed of fifty-three galleys, under Agostino Barbarigo, whose galley went first, as guide on the land side, the guide of the other side was Marco Quirini, with Venice's third flagship. The right wing, on the other hand, went out to sea; it consisted of fifty-six galleys, commanded and guided from the extreme right by Gian Andrea Doria, whose flagship had a globe of glass as a lantern, with gilded hoops; the left was guided by D. Juan de Cardona, with the flagship of Sicily.

Between the two wings, forming the centre division, were sixty-two galleys; in the middle the "Real" of D. John of Austria, flanked on each side by the flagships of the Captains Marco Antonio Colonna and Sebastian Veniero, and their stern guarded by D. John's "Patrona" and the ship of the Knight Commander D. Luis de Requesens, who did not wish to be separated for an instant from the Generalissimo; the two extremes of the centre division were led, on the left by the flagship of Malta, commanded by the Prior of Messina, Fr. Pietro Gustiniani. Behind the centre division and at a convenient distance were the thirty galleys in reserve, commanded by the MarquÉs de Santa Cruz. There was not more than the space necessary for manoeuvring between ship and ship, and the line of the allied fleet extended at sea for nearly two miles. A mile in front of the line of battle were the six galliasses, two appertaining to each part of the fleet.

Ali Pasha had disposed his fleet in an identical manner; he also spread out his right wing, composed of fifty-six galleys, towards the land, under Mahomet Scirocco. The left, formed of ninety-three galleys, also went to sea, under the orders of Aluch Ali; and in the midst of the centre division, formed of ninety-five galleys, a ship of Ali Pasha's pressed forward, a very large one, with five high stanchions with five great gilded lanterns in the stern, and well supplied with artillery and with more than 500 men, Turks of Epacos, excellent archers and gunners who were the pick of his force. Round her, to defend her, were seven galleys, the strongest and best that the Serasker Perter Pasha had. Behind the centre division, as in the allied fleet, were thirty galleys in reserve. The space between the ships was the same in both fleets, and the Turkish fleet stretched for over four miles. Therefore the two armadas were each formed into three divisions, which each faced an enemy. That of Barbarigo was opposite that of Mahomet Scirocco; that of D. John of Austria was opposite that of Ali Pasha, and Gian Andrea Doria was facing Aluch Ali, the real and most redoubtable Captain of the Turks.

D. John's visit had aroused enthusiasm among the galleys, and all preparations being made, they only waited for the signal of battle. The Generalissimo had also made his preparations on the "Real"; he ordered that the deck should be cleared as much as possible, in order to give plenty of room for fighting and for suitably posting the 400 veterans of the Cerdena regiment whom he had on board. He confided the defence of the platforms of the forecastles to the Field-Marshals D. Lope de Figueroa and D. Miguel de Moncada, and to Andres de Mesa and Andres de Salazar; the midships to Gil de Andrade; the kitchen to D. Pedro Zapata de Calatayud; the boat to Luis Carillo; the quarter-deck to D. Bernardino de Cardenas, D. Rodrigo de Mendoza Cervellon, D. Luis de Cardena, D. Juan de GÚzman, D. Felipe Heredia, and Rui Diaz de Mendoza; and as principal defender of the ship and true Generalissimo of the battle, he had hung up, in a wooden box, the Moorish crucifix rescued by Luis Quijada, which D. John always carried about with him.

From the stern D. John followed the manoeuvres of both fleets, and, not to lose sight of them for a moment, he began to don his armour there, under the little awning of red and white damask which was at the door of his cabin; he put on a strong black coat of mail with silver nails; below the cuirass he wore the "piece of the True Cross," the present of Pius V, and over the cuirass the Golden Fleece, as by the statutes of the order a knight should always wear it when he engages in battle. D. John had just finished arming himself when he noticed that Gian Andrea Doria had got too far ahead with the wing he was commanding, leaving a wide space between the left and the centre of the line; he also observed that Aluch Ali had followed the manoeuvre of Doria with a parallel Turkish one with his left wing, and at once understood the strategy of the cunning renegade, who wished, and was succeeding in doing so, to separate the Christian right wing from the centre division, in order to surround them completely and cut them off. D. John hastened to send a frigate to Doria, to warn him of the trap into which he had fallen, and which threatened to cause the loss of the battle; but, unfortunately, it was too late, and the frigate had not time to cover the three miles which separated them from Doria.

The Turkish fleet came on imposing and terrible, all sails set, impelled by a fair wind, and it was only half a mile from the line of galliasses and another mile from the line of the Christian ships.

D. John waited no longer; he humbly crossed himself, and ordered that the cannon of challenge should be fired on the "Real," and that the blue flag of the League should be hoisted at the stern, which unfurled itself like a piece of the sky on which stood out an image of the Crucified. A moment later the galley of Ali replied, accepting the challenge by firing another cannon, and hoisting at the stern the standard of the Prophet, guarded in Mecca, white and of large size, with a wide green "cenefa," and in the centre verses from the Koran embroidered in gold. At the same moment a strange thing happened, a very simple one at any other time, but for good reason then considered a miracle: the wind fell suddenly to a calm, and then began to blow favourably for the Christians and against the Turks. It seemed as if the Voice had said to the sea, "Be calm," and to the wind, "Be still." The silence was profound, and nothing was heard but the waves breaking on the prows of the galleys, and the noise of the chains of the Christian galley slaves as they rowed.

Fr. Miguel Servia blessed from the quarter-deck all those of the fleet, and gave them absolution in the hour of death. It was then a quarter to twelve.

The first shot was fired by the galliass "Capitana," commanded by Francisco Duodo, and it smashed the biggest of the five lanterns which crowned the stern of Ali Pasha's galley; the second injured the castle of a neighbouring galley, and the third sunk a small vessel which was hurrying to transmit orders. Then there was a retrograde movement throughout the Turkish fleet, which the bravery of Ali Pasha at once checked. He rushed to the tiller and made the "Sultana" pass between the galliasses with the rapidity of an arrow, without firing a shot; all the fleet followed him, their line already broken, but prepared to form up again when they had passed the obstacle, as the water of a river reunites after it has passed the posts of a bridge which has impeded and divided it. The left Christian wing and the Turkish right one were the first to engage. Mahomet Scirocco attacked with such force in front, and with such tumult of shouts and savage cries, according to the Turkish custom when fighting, that all attention was drawn to one point; meanwhile some of his light galleys slipped past on the land side and attacked the stern of Barbarigo's flagship, who saw himself sorely pressed as the crew of Mahomet Scirocco's galley had boarded his by the prow, and the Turks were already up to the mizzen mast. The Christians defended themselves like wild beasts, gathered in the stern, and Barbarigo himself was directing them and cheering them on from the castle. He had lifted the vizor of his helmet, and was using his shield against the storm of arrows that flew through the air. To give an order, he uncovered himself for a moment, and an arrow entered by the right eye and pierced his brain. He died the next day.

Then there was grave risk of the Turks overcoming the Venetian flagship, destroying the left wing, and then attacking the centre division on the flank and from the rear, making victory easy. Barbarigo's nephew Marino Contarini overcame the danger. He boarded his uncle's ship on the larboard side with all his people, and fought on board perhaps the fiercest combat of all on that memorable day. All was madness, fury, carnage and terror, until Mahomet Scirocco was expelled from the Venetian flagship and penned, in his turn, in his own ship, where he at last succumbed to his wounds. Clinging to the side, they beheaded him there and threw him into the water. Terror then spread among the Turks, and the few galleys at liberty turned their prows towards the shore. There they ran aground, the decimated crews saving themselves by swimming.

D. John had no time to reflect either on this danger, or that catastrophe, or that victory, for he was also hard pressed. Five minutes after Mahomet Scirocco had fallen on Barbarigo, Ali Pasha fell on him with all the weight of his hatred, fury and desire for glory. He could be seen proudly standing on the castle of the stern, a magnificent scimitar in his hand, dressed in a caftan of white brocade woven with silk and silver, with a helmet of dark steel under his turban, with inscriptions in gold and precious stones, turquoises, rubies, and diamonds, which flashed in the sunlight. Slowly the two divisions came on, unheeding what happened on the right or left, and in the midst were the galleys of the two Generalissimos, not firing a shot, and only moving forward silently. When the length of half a galley separated the two ships, the "Sultana" of Ali Pasha suddenly fired three guns; the first destroyed some of the ironwork of the "Real" and killed several rowers; the second traversed the boat; and the third passed over the cook's galley without harming anyone. The "Real" replied by sweeping with her shots the stern and gangway of the "Sultana," and a thick, black smoke at once enveloped Turks and Christians, ships and combatants. From this black cloud, which appeared to be vomited from Hell, could be heard a dreadful grinding noise, and horrible cries, and through the smoke of the powder could be seen splinters of wood and iron, broken oars, weapons, human limbs and dead bodies flying through the air and falling in the bloodstained sea. It was the galley of Ali which had struck that of D. John by the prow with such a tremendous shock that the peak of the "Sultana" entered the "Real" as far as the fourth bench of rowers; the violence of the shock had naturally made each ship recoil; but they could not draw apart. The yards and rigging had become entangled, and they heaved first to one side and then to the other with dreadful grinding and movement, striving to get free without succeeding, like two gladiators, whose bodies are separated, who grasp each other tightly, and then seize each other by the hair. From the captain's place where he was, at the foot of the standard of the League, D. John ordered grappling-irons to be thrown from the prow, holding the ships close together, and making them into one field of battle. Like lions the Christians flung themselves on board the ship, destroying all in their path, and twice they reached the mainmast of the "Sultana," and as often had to retire, foot by foot and inch by inch, fighting over these frail boards, from which there was neither escape, nor help, nor hope of compassion, nor other outlet than death.

The "Sultana" was reinforced with reserves from the galleys, and to encourage them, Ali, in his turn, threw himself on board the ship. The "Sultana" rode higher out of the water than the "Real," and the men poured down into her like a cataract from on high; the shock was so tremendous that the Field-Marshals Figueroa and Moncada fell back with their men, and the Turks succeeded in reaching the foremast. All the men at the prow hastened there, and D. John jumped from the captain's post, sword in hand, fighting like a soldier to make them retire. This was the critical moment of the battle. There was neither line, nor formation, nor right, nor left, nor centre; only could be seen, as far as the eye could reach, fire, smoke and groups of galleys in the midst, fighting with each other, vomiting fire and death, with masts and hulls bristling with arrows, like an enormous porcupine, who puts out its quills to defend itself and to fight; wounding, killing, capturing, cheering, burning were seen and heard on all sides, and dead bodies and bodies of the living falling into the water, and spars, yards, rigging, torn-off heads, turbans, quivers, shields, swords, scimitars, arquebuses, cannon, arms, everything that was then within the grasp of barbarism or civilisation for dealing death and destruction.

At this critical moment, by a superhuman effort, a galley freed itself from that chaos of horrors, and threw itself, like a missile from a catapult, hurled by Titans, against the stern of Ali's galley, forcing the peak as far as the third bench of rowers.

It was Marco Antonio Colonna who had come to the assistance of D. John of Austria; at the same time the MarquÉs de Santa Cruz executed a similar manoeuvre on one of the flanks. The help was great and opportune; still, the Turks succeeded in retiring in good order to their galley; but here, pressed hardly by the followers of Colonna and Santa Cruz, they tumbled over the sides, dead and living, into the water, Turks and Christians fighting to the last with nails and teeth, and destroying each other until engulfed in the gory waves.

Among this mass of desperate people Ali perished beside the tiller; some say that he cut his throat and threw himself into the sea; others that his head was cut off and put on a pike. Then D. John ordered the standard of the Prophet to be lowered, and amidst shouts of victory, the flag of the League was hoisted in its place.

D. John had been wounded in the leg,^[12] but without limping at all he mounted the castle of the vanquished galley to survey from there the state of the battle. On the left wing the few galleys left to Mahomet Scirocco were flying towards the land, and could be seen running violently aground in the bays, the crews throwing themselves into the water to swim ashore.

But, unluckily, the same was not happening on the right. Doria, deceived by the tactics of Aluch Ali, had followed him out to sea, making a wide space between the right wing and the centre division; D. John's orders to him to come back did not arrive in time. Meanwhile, Aluch Ali contented himself by watching Doria's manoeuvres, keeping up with him, but not attacking; until suddenly, judging, no doubt, that the space was wide enough, he veered to the right with marvellous rapidity, and sent all his fleet through the dangerous breach, literally annihilating the two ends which remained uncovered; the disaster was terrible and the carnage awful; on the flagship of Malta only three men remained alive, the Prior of Messina, Fr. Pietro Giustiniani, pierced by five arrows, a Spanish gentleman with both legs broken, and an Italian with an arm cut off by a blow from an axe. In the flagship of Sicily D. Juan de Cardona lay wounded, and of his 500 men only fifty remained. The "Fierenza," the Pope's "San Giovanni," and the "Piamontesa" of Savoy succumbed without yielding; ten galleys had gone to the bottom; one was on fire, and twelve drifted like buoys, without masts, full of corpses, waiting until the conqueror, Aluch Ali, should take them in tow as trophies and spoils of war. Doria, horrified at the disaster, in all haste returned to the scene of the catastrophe, but D. John was already there before him. Without waiting a moment, the Generalissimo ordered that the towing ropes which already attached twelve galleys to their conquerors should be cut, and although wounded, and without taking any rest after his own struggle, he flew to the assistance of those who were being overcome. "Ah! Brave Generalissimo," exclaims Admiral Jurien de la Graviere, in his valuable study of the battle of Lepanto, "to him the armada owed its victory, to him the right wing its preservation." The MarquÉs de Santa Cruz followed with his whole reserve, and seeing this help, the already victorious Aluch Ali understood that the prey would be torn from his claws.

The cunning renegade then thought only of saving his life, which he did by a means that no one else would have employed; he placed his son in a galley, and followed by thirteen other ones, passed like a vapour in front of the prows of the enemy, before they could surround him, and fled incontinently to Santa Maura, all sails set, he at the tiller, the unfortunate rowers with a scimitar at their throats, so that they should not flag or draw breath for a second, and should die rather than give in.

The first moment of astonishment over, the MarquÉs de Santa Cruz and D. John of Austria hastened in pursuit; but the advantage Aluch Ali had obtained increased each minute, night began to fall, and the storm which had threatened since two o'clock began to blow, and the first claps of thunder were heard. So the famous renegade escaped on the wings of the storm, as if the wrath of God were protecting him and preserving him to be the scourge of other people.

This was the last act of the battle of Lepanto, the greatest day that the ages have seen, as we are assured by a witness who shed his blood there, Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra.

It was then five o'clock on the evening of the 7th of October, 1571.

CHAPTER XII

In the afternoon of that same day, the 7th of October, 1571, the Pope was walking about his room, listening to the relation by his treasurer, Mons. Busotti de Bibiana, of various businesses committed to his care; the Pope suffered terribly from stone, and as usually the pain attacked him while seated, he had to receive and to do his business standing up or walking up and down. He stopped suddenly in the middle of the room and put out his head in the attitude of one listening, at the same time making a sign to Busotti to be silent. Then he went to the window, which he threw open wide, leaning out, still silent and in the same listening attitude. Busotti looked at him in astonishment, which changed to terror on seeing the face of the old Pontiff suddenly transfigured, his tearful blue eyes turned to heaven with an ineffable expression, and his joined and trembling hands raised; Busotti's hair stood on end as he understood that something supernatural and divine was happening, and thus he remained for more than three minutes, as the same treasurer afterwards declared on oath.

Then the Pope shook off his ecstasy, and with a face radiant with joy, said to Busotti, "This is not the time for business. Let us return thanks to God for victory over the Turks."

And he retired to his oratory, says Busotti, stumbling, and with beautiful lights coming from his forehead. The treasurer hastened to acquaint the prelates and Cardinals with what had happened, and these ordered that at once a record should be made, noting all the circumstances of time and place, and that it should be deposited, sealed up, at a notary's office. On the 26th of October a messenger from the Doge of Venice, Mocenigo, arrived in Rome, to announce the victory of Lepanto, and three or four days later the Conde de Priego, sent by D. John to give an account of the details of the battle. Then they made a calculation, allowing for the different meridians of Rome and the Curzolari Isles, and they found that the Pope's vision announcing the triumph of Lepanto took place exactly when D. John of Austria jumped, sword in hand, from the quarter-deck to drive back the Turks who were invading his galley, and when the "Sultana" was being attacked on the side and at the stern by the MarquÉs de Santa Cruz and Marco Antonio Colonna. Then they gave much importance to this event, and it afterwards figured with all its proofs and documents in the proceedings of the canonisation of Pius V, from which we have taken them.

Meanwhile it was another of God's mercies that the storm which put the renegade Aluch Ali in safety, did not end by destroying the armada of the League. Without thought of danger, the galleys were drifting in the wide gulf, busy, as far as possible, repairing their damages, putting manacles on the Turkish prisoners, and collecting and disposing of the enormous booty provided by the 178 galleys taken from the enemy. No one thought of danger or of anything but enjoying the triumph. However, the Generalissimo was looking after everything, and he suddenly ordered that the alarm gun should be fired on the "Real"; the flagships repeated the same signal, and with haste, by force, and, if one can say so, by driving them, D. John gathered together this scattered flock, and shut them up, as in a fold, in the port of Petala. It was time; the storm was let loose, violent and terrible, and during all that night it swept over those seas with alarming force. But for the prudence of D. John, the victory of Lepanto would inevitably have been reduced to the opposite of the battle of Trafalgar, two centuries and a half later, which was a glorious disaster; Lepanto would have been a disastrous glory.

Very early next morning D. John visited all the galleys, one by one, to comfort and aid the wounded and to take count of the losses suffered. The Christians lost in the battle of Lepanto fifteen galleys and nearly 8000 men; of these 2000 were Spaniards, 800 the Pope's men, and the rest Venetians. Of the Turkish armada 30 galleys got away, 90 were sunk in the gulf, and the remaining 178 were in the hands of the Christians, with 117 big cannon and 250 of smaller size. At the same time more than 12,000 Christian captives whom the Turks had rowing in their galleys regained their liberty. These poor creatures, wild with joy, offered spontaneously, and with the greatest enthusiasm, to take the places of the wounded and killed in the Christian fleet, both as soldiers and sailors.

The division of the spoil D. John made in the following manner, according to what was stipulated in the articles of the Holy League.

To the Pope, 27 galleys, 9 big cannon, 3 swivel guns, 42 small cannon, and 200 slaves.

To the Catholic King, Ali Pasha's galley, the "Sultana," with 81 others, 78 great cannon, 12 swivel guns, 178 small cannon, and 3700 slaves.

To Venice 54 galleys, 38 cannon, 6 swivel guns, 84 small cannon, and 2500 slaves.

To D. John of Austria, as Generalissimo, fell the tenth part of everything; but he only took 16 galleys, 700 slaves, and one of every ten pieces of artillery. Among the prisoners he kept the tutor of the sons of Ali Pasha, Alhamet, who was taken with them by Marco Antonio Colonna on the galley of the King of Negroponto, where they had taken refuge after their own ship had gone to the bottom.

From Santa Maura D. John sent the Field-Marshal D. Lope de Figueroa to the King his brother; also his courier Angulo, carrying the standard of the Prophet called "Sanjac," taken from Ali's galley. To the Pope he sent the Conde de Priego; D. Fernando de Mendoza to the Emperor Maximilian II of Austria; and D. Pedro Zapata de Calatayud to the Signory of Venice, to offer them congratulations.

Photo Lacoste
DISPATCH ANNOUNCING THE VICTORY OF LEPANTO

Photo Lacoste
POSTSCRIPT ANNOUNCING VICTORY OF LEPANTO
IN D. JOHN OF AUSTRIA'S WRITING

In the delirium of triumph D. John of Austria did not forget his "aunt," DoÑa Magdalena de Ulloa, and at the same time as he sent to the Pope, King, Emperor, and Signory, he sent Jorge de Lima to her, taking her that which he knew would please her most as a Christian, a Spaniard, and a loving mother, the "piece of the True Cross," the Pope's present, which he had worn at the battle of Lepanto, and a Turkish flag he himself had taken from the galley of the Serasker.

CHAPTER XIII

D. John of Austria's kind heart was full of compassion for the misfortunes of the sons of Ali, and he ordered that, without being separated from their tutor Alhamet or their five servants, they were to be brought on board the "Real," that he might have them under his own eye to protect and comfort them, which was the reason of an episode which shows the noble, great, and compassionate character of the hero of Lepanto.

The eldest of the sons of Ali, Ahmed Bey, was eighteen, handsome, strong, manly and arrogant. He accepted his misfortune with dumb and gloomy despair, which never lifted, but rather became stronger, making him churlish, hard and irritable, with no other wish or idea than to escape, like a wild bird shut up in a cage. The younger one, Mahomet Bey, was, on the other hand, a child of thirteen, affectionate and demonstrative, and without understanding the extent of his misfortunes, his innocent eyes sought everywhere love and protection from anyone, and finding both in D. John, he clung to him tenderly. This humbled the pride of his brother, and seeing him one day playing on deck with D. John's monkey, he tore the little animal violently from him, saying in Turkish laconic words which may be translated, "The great infidel killed our father."

The kindness of D. John and his great tact at last overcame the boy's animosity and fierceness, and then desperation changed to profound sadness, which seemed to undermine him and consume him, without any illness. D. John was very much disturbed at the fate of these poor children, and to give hope and pleasure, on arriving at Corfu, he at once liberated their tutor Alhamet and sent him to Constantinople, to give news of them to their family, and to say how impossible it was then to give them their freedom, but that it was his wish and intention to give it them later. The two orphans formed one prize of war, of which D. John's share was only the tenth part, according to the articles of the League, the remainder in equal parts belonged to the Pope, the King of Spain, and the Signory of Venice.

D. John then begged from the three Powers that the two boys should be set at liberty without loss of time, offering to give in exchange anything that they should demand. He, however, judged it prudent to send the brothers to Rome, with all their servants, to place them under the protection of the Holy Father. The orphans did not like leaving D. John, and so much did this absence aggravate the sadness and consumption which was undermining Ahmet Bey, the eldest of the brothers, that he died in Naples three days after their arrival, begging D. John, at his last hour, not to forget his generous intentions of setting his innocent brother at liberty, who, broken-hearted and afflicted, went on to Rome, where he was placed, by order of the Pope, in the castle of St. Angelo, with all the care and attention that his age, rank and misfortunes demanded. D. John then, on his part, took the same steps on behalf of Mahomet Bey as before for the two brothers, and wrote to Philip II and the Doge Mucenigo, urgently and effectually, as the following noble letter, written to the Spanish Ambassador in Rome, D. Juan de ZÚÑiga, shows, the original of which is in the collection of autographs belonging to the Conde de Valencia de San Juan:

"Illustrious Sir. Several times I remember having written to Y.E. of the great affection that I have for the sons of the Pasha since the first day when they were taken captive in battle, and they appear to me to be noble lads with very good inclinations, and taking into consideration their misery, which they incurred through no fault of theirs, as they were neither of an age or power to do us any real harm. This same wish has lasted, and still lasts, the more, when I at times reflect that it is not the act of noble souls to ill-treat the enemy after he is vanquished, and according to this my opinion, during the time that these boys and the other prisoners of rank were under my power and orders I desired that they should be well treated and looked after, especially the said boys. Having sent them from here to the city, and one of them dying in Naples, and desiring extremely that the younger, who is here in prison, should be given his liberty, the more, when I remember having several times told you my intention of doing so, and to this end, wrote to the King, my Lord, begging that it might be his pleasure to give me the favour of the half of the boy, which he held by the articles of the League, to which I await an answer. At present it has occurred to me that it would be well in this vacant see^[13] to beg from the College of Cardinals, the part which falls to this Holy See, as regards the Venetian's other two parts I shall try to have them by the means which seem to me best. Before engaging in this affair I wished to communicate with Y.E. and to ask you, with much earnestness, to tell me your opinion, and to do all you can that these captives should be well treated, as I said above, that one should show fierceness and bravery to one's enemies until one has conquered them, and after they are conquered, gentleness and pity, and to advise me on the first occasion that offers about this.

"Our Lord keep the Illustrious person of Y.E. as I wish.

"From Messina, the 7th of May, 1572."

PHILIP II AND HIS SON DON FERNANDO
Titian. In Prado Gallery, Madrid

At the end of this letter is the following postscript in D. John's own hand:

"I desire that this boy should be given me much more than I can say, as he will do so little harm, and I am truly fond of him, and almost under an obligation, and thus, as I have said, I desire to have my wish gratified, and for this I truly want your help, whom I beg that if it now appears to you to be the time and occasion, to do me this favour, to grant it, and to see that in every case and time the rest of those in the company of the said boy should be well treated, as pity towards such is certainly, in my opinion, the sign of a good heart, and, moreover, I wish that they should know that I am watching over their interests, and all this I confide to you, Don Juan.

"At your service,

"D. John."

The Pope, the King, and the Doge of Venice readily agreed to what D. John asked, and left him exclusive master of the poor captive child. The Generalissimo sent to set him at liberty with all his servants; but beforehand, and while D. John was at Naples, there arrived in the port a beautiful Turkish galley, with a safe conduct of embassy, sent by Fatima Cadem, a daughter of Ali Pasha, and the only remaining relation left to the orphan. Alhamet came in this galley, the tutor of the two brothers, bringing a letter and a rich present from Fatima for D. John of Austria. The following is the translation of her letter, given by Vander Hammen:

"Great Lord: After kissing the earth Y.H. treads, that which this poor and miserable orphan wishes to make known to Y.H., Her Lord, is to tell you how grateful I am for the favour you have done to all of us, not only in giving liberty to Alhamet, our servant, but by sending him to give us news, that after the death of my father and the destruction of the Armada, my poor orphan brothers remained alive and in the power of Y.H., for which I pray to God to give Y.H. many years of life. What remains to us, My Lord, to me and all of us, is to beg Y.H. to do us the favour and charity by the Soul of Jesus Christ, by the life of Y. Royal H., by the head of your mother, by the soul of the Emperor, your father, by the life of the Majesty of the King, your brother, to give liberty to these poor orphans. They have no mother, their father died at Y.H.'s hand. They are under your sole protection. But if you are the courteous gentleman people say, so pious and generous a prince, pity the tears I shed for hours, and the affliction in which my brothers find themselves, and concede me this mercy. Of the things I have been able to get here, I send Y.H. this present, which I beg you will be willing to receive. I well know that it is not worthy of Y.H.'s greatness, which deserves greater things, but my resources are small. Do not look at the smallness of the service, but, like a great lord, accept the good-will with which it is made. Again, My Lord, I beg Y.H. by the Soul of Jesus Christ to do me the charity of giving liberty to my brothers, as in doing this good, even to enemies, you will gain a renown for liberality and piety; and, thinking of their tears, you were pleased to send Alhamet, to say that they were alive and of the good treatment Y.H. gave them (which all this Court thinks very noble and does nothing but praise the virtue and greatness of Y.H.), for you have ended in gaining this title from everyone, there remains nothing but that Y.H. should grant this mercy, of giving them liberty.

"Your slave, the poor sister of the sons of Ali Pasha, kisses the feet of Y.H.

"Fatima Cadem."

D. John received this letter, wrapped in a cloth of brocade, from the hands of Alhamet, and the eight Turkish slaves who came with him then brought in the magnificent present. It consisted of four garments of sable, two of lynx, one of ermine, another of lynx with crimson satin, which had belonged to the King of Persia, with a trimming, half a yard wide, of brocade, each piece seven ells long; two boxes of very fine Levantine porcelain, a box of handkerchiefs and towels embroidered with gold, silver and silk in the Turkish fashion; a cover of cut-out silk embroidered in relief with gold; another cover of quilted brocade; a quantity of table-covers of leather; perfumed leather tapestry; a damascene scimitar which had belonged to the Grand Turk, set with gold and adorned with fine turquoises; five gilt bows with 500 arrows, which had belonged to the Grand Turk, much adorned with gold and enamel, and the quivers chased and perfumed; a quantity of all sorts of feathers; a little box of fine musk; some turban pieces of fine linen; six big carpets; six felt covers; a bow and quiver all of fine gold, enamelled in blue, which had belonged to Soliman; a quantity of water-bottles and flasks of perfumed leather; four flasks of fine mastic of Chios; twenty-four damascened knives, worked in gold, silver and rubies.

D. John of Austria examined all these riches minutely, with many expressions of courtesy and thanks; but then he made the slaves pack them up again as they had come, and ordered Alhamet to take them himself to Rome and make them over to the child captive, Mahomet Bey, to do as he liked with them. The son of Ali arrived at Naples at the end of May, and a few days afterwards embarked for Constantinople, with all his servants and some other prisoners whom D. John had redeemed to do him honour. The child took back this answer to his sister Fatima from the Generalissimo:

"Noble and virtuous Lady: From the first hour that Ahmet Bey and Mahomet Bey, your brothers, were brought to my galley, after having gained the battle over the Turkish Armada, knowing their nobility of mind and good morals, and considering the misery of human weakness, and how the state of man is subject to change, added to which that these noble youths came more for the pleasure and company of their father, than to do us harm, it was in my mind, not only to order that they should be treated as noblemen, but to give them liberty, when it seemed to me the time and place. This intention grew when I received your letter, so full of affliction and fraternal affection, and such demonstrations of desiring the freedom of your brothers, and when I thought I could send them both, to my very great sorrow, came to Ahmet Bey the end of his labours, which is death. I now send Mahomet Bey, free, and all the other prisoners he asked for, as I would have sent the deceased, if he were alive; and be certain, Lady, that it has been a special annoyance not to be able to satisfy you or gratify part of what you ask, because I hold in much esteem the fame of your virtuous nobility. The present you sent I did not accept, and I have given it to Mahomet Bey, not that I do not appreciate it as coming from your hand, but because the greatness of my ancestors was not accustomed to receive gifts from those who wanted favours, but to grant them; and for this reason receive your brother from my hand, and those I send with him; be certain, that if in another battle I should take any of his kinsmen, with the same liberality I will give them their liberty, and would procure them all pleasure and contentment.

"From Naples, 13th of May, 1573. At your service,

D. John."

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