ThermopylÆ[31]—Battle of St. Jaques, near Basle—Siege of Malta in 1565—Destruction of the “Sacred Band” in the Greek Revolution—Roncesvalles.

The plain of Thessaly is so entirely surrounded by mountains, that only one practicable, or at least only one frequented road leads southward from it into Greece; and even this is commanded by a difficult and dangerous pass, the celebrated ThermopylÆ, where the first stand was made by Greece against Xerxes, and the noblest instance of Spartan heroism displayed. The ridge of Œta, which runs in an unbroken line from west to east, falls precipitously into the sea, leaving but a narrow slip of level ground, which had, in old times, been fortified by the Phocians who lay immediately south of Thessaly, and were separated from it only by Mount Œta, to check the depredations of their Thessalian neighbours. At this spot some hot springs burst from the mountain, whence the name ThermopylÆ, which signifies the Warm Gates, and here the pass was about fifty feet wide; but to the northward it grew still narrower, and in one part required the assistance of masonry to make the road passable even for a single carriage. A more favourable spot for stopping an invading army could not have been selected, and it seems not impossible, that if the force of Greece, or even a large portion of it, had been stationed there, the Persian advance might have been effectually checked. But in the time that union was most required, jealousy and selfishness swayed the Grecian councils. Thessaly was already lost, through the same fear which afterwards abandoned Attica to the invader; and now, when the fate of all Greece northward of the Isthmus was in the balance, the Peloponnesians were only anxious to fortify the approach to their own peninsula, and to remain near home, in case a debarkation should be made from the fleet. Under various pretences of religion each state kept back the contingent which it ought to have supplied, except Arcadia, which sent a force amounting to 2120 men. The rest of Peloponnesus contributed less than 1000 men, divided in the following proportions: MycenÆ, then a small, but still independent town, sent 80; Phlius, 200; Corinth, 400; and Sparta only 300 men, but these were powerful in the generous devotedness of Leonidas, their king and general. The whole force of Athens served in the fleet. But though the Peloponnesians themselves held back, they published a manifesto, to excite the northern Greeks to resistance. “These troops,” it is said, “were but the forerunners of a larger body that might be daily expected; the sea was well guarded by the Athenians, Æginetans, and others; and there was no ground for extravagant alarm, for it was no god, but a man, that waged war upon Greece; and there was no man to whom evil did not at some time happen, and the greatest evils to the most exalted persons: it was therefore probable that the invader’s hopes would be frustrated.” The little town of ThespiÆ, to its eternal honour, sent 700 men;[32] Thebes, ill affected to the cause, but 400; the Phocians added 1000, and the Opuntian Locrians came with their whole force. Their number is not mentioned by Herodotus, but Pausanias estimates it “not to have exceeded 6000 men.”[33] Thus the army consisted of about 11,200 heavy-armed citizens, attended perhaps by 13,000 light-armed soldiers, consisting chiefly of slaves, supposing the same proportion to have existed between the services as existed afterwards at the battle of PlatÆa, where each Spartan was attended by seven Helots, and the other Grecians, upon the average, by one slave a-piece.

On the approach of the Persians the disinclination of the Peloponnesians to the service was manifested by a proposal to retreat to the Isthmus. This was warmly opposed by the Locrians and Phocians, and finally negatived by Leonidas, who instead despatched a messenger to demand reinforcements. Meanwhile Xerxes sent forward a scout to observe the motions of the Grecian army. A wall, as has been mentioned, stretched across the level, behind which the greater part of it was quartered, so that he only saw an outpost of Spartans, who were amusing themselves with gymnastic exercises, and combing their long hair, and took no notice whatever of the intruder. On hearing what he had seen, Xerxes marvelled; and thinking it impossible that so insignificant a force should be resolute to contest the passage, he allowed them four days to disperse, and sent against them, on the fifth, the Medes and Cissians, with orders to take them alive and bring them into the royal presence. When they had been repulsed with slaughter, a chosen body of Persian foot, called the Immortals, advanced with confidence to fulfil the commands of their sovereign, and were in their turn compelled to retreat from the firm array of the Grecians; not, we are led to believe, from inferiority in the qualities, mental or bodily, which constitute the excellence of a soldier, but their numbers were useless in so confined a spot, and their short spears and light defensive armour proved ineffectual to penetrate the longer lances and iron panoply of their opponents. The attack, however, though still fruitless, was repeated in every various way that their ingenuity could devise, and the Persian monarch is said to have leaped thrice from his throne as he sat anxiously viewing the progress of his troops. On the morrow the battle was renewed in hope of wearing out by fatigue and wounds the scanty force of the Grecians, but still it was in vain; and Xerxes was reduced to much perplexity, when he learnt from a Thessalian, Ephialtes the Malian, that another practicable road across the mountain existed. The traitor did not long enjoy the fruits of his perfidy, for a price was set on his head by the Amphictyonic council, and he was slain by one that had a private quarrel with him. It was known to Leonidas that such a path existed; and the Phocians were appointed to guard it, and posted at the summit of the pass. They could not see the enemy’s approach for the oaks with which the mountain was covered; but, about daybreak, were roused by the tread of men upon the fallen leaves. They flew to arms; but, being galled by the Persian missiles, they retreated to one side for the advantage of higher ground, and thus left a free passage to the enemy, who hastened to profit by their error, and left them in undisturbed possession of the post so injudiciously chosen. The army at ThermopylÆ was already forewarned; first by the seer Megistias, who from the omens foretold the approach of death; then by deserters from the Persian camp, announcing the march of an army across the mountain; and lastly from the watchmen stationed on the heights, who brought news that it had forced the passage.

Their flank being thus turned, it became impossible for the Greeks to maintain their position; and now a question ensued concerning the measures to be adopted; one party recommending a retreat, while the other urged the duty of remaining to the last at their post. The dispute was terminated by the retreat and dispersion of the majority to their several homes, while the rest remained with Leonidas, resolved to die rather than turn their backs upon the enemy; or, as another story runs, which Herodotus is more inclined to credit, Leonidas himself dismissed his allies, seeing them slow in spirit to encounter death, retaining with him only the 300 Spartans, whose institutions forbade them to retreat, even when resistance was hopeless. The Thespians and Thebans alone remained: the Thebans very unwillingly; but Leonidas detained them as hostages for the fidelity of their countrymen. The Thespians on the other hand insisted on remaining, saying that they would not go away, abandoning Leonidas and the Spartans, but rather abide and die with them. Demophilus, son of Diadromus, was their general. According to Pausanias, the eighty MycenÆans also remained. One motive for Leonidas’s devotion is to be found in the deep respect and attachment to national institutions which was only common to him with his countrymen: but he is said to have had a more peculiar and personal inducement. The Delphic oracle had foretold that Sparta herself, or one of her kings, must fall; and this prediction, in recalling the fame of Codrus, must have suggested the possibility of rivalling him. But rather than to either of these feelings we would attribute it to the belief that his death would be more useful to Greece than his life; the only motive perhaps which could justify the sacrifice of so many brave men, at the time when they were most needed. Greece did indeed require some noble example to rouse her councils to unanimity and firmness: and he who gave it has his due reward in the admiration of the brave and patriot spirits of all nations and of all succeeding ages.

The next morning, with the rising sun, Xerxes offered worship to that luminary, the great object of Persian veneration, in presence of his assembled army; and after a brief delay gave orders to advance against the enemy. Hitherto the Grecians seem to have taken post in the narrowest part of the valley, where, as has been mentioned, there was only room for one carriage to pass; but now, knowing that their fate was sealed, and anxious only to sell their lives dearly, they retreated to the broader part, which had formerly been fortified, with the view of allowing freer access, and insuring a more abundant destruction of their foes. And in truth the slaughter was commensurate with their desperation, for in the three days’ conflicts 20,000 Asiatics were left dead in the pass. We should be inclined to attribute to misinformation or mistake the statement, that in the army of a warlike and conquering nation, like the Persians, the officers followed behind, furnished with scourges, with which they drove on their men to the attack, so that many were forced into the sea, and perished there, and still more trodden under foot in the press, while those who escaped were driven on the Grecian spears by the pressure from behind. At last these weapons were broken, and the combat assumed a closer character. Hand to hand they fought at the sword’s point; and now Leonidas, with others of the noblest Spartans, fell, and by his death added fresh ferocity to the combat. The possession of his body was disputed with an obstinacy which recalls the Homeric battles to our minds: two sons of Darius were slain in the struggle, in which the Greeks prevailed so far as to gain possession of the body, and four times to drive back the crowd of enemies. The scene was closed by the arrival of the Persians led by Ephialtes in the rear. The Thebans, who had hitherto co-operated with their countrymen, now separated themselves, and made submission, protesting, as indeed was true, that they had been among the first to give earth and water, and were present at ThermopylÆ through compulsion.[34] The LacedÆmonians and Thespians retired to a hillock, where they continued the battle with their swords, and, when these were broken, with their hands and teeth, until they were slain to a man.

Such is the account of this celebrated conflict published by Herodotus less than thirty years after, at a time when many of the Thebans and of the Greeks who served in the Persian army must have been alive to correct any erroneous statements. But later historians, and among them Diodorus and Plutarch, give a very different version; that, when news first arrived that a Persian force was on its march across the mountain, Leonidas led his men to a night attack, in which they penetrated to the royal pavilion, and, wandering about the camp in a vain attempt to discover the fugitive king, were at last dispersed and cut to pieces. But it seems hardly probable that the Spartan king, who had garrisoned the mountain pass in expectation that it would be attempted, should have devoted his soldiers to inevitable death, until he knew that his precautions had failed: and even without this corroboration the superior credit due to a contemporary would determine our adherence to the story of Herodotus.

Several sayings, which have gained notoriety, are ascribed to Leonidas upon Plutarch’s authority. To Xerxes, who sent to bid him lay down his arms, he replied, “Come and take them.” He admonished his soldiers, before their final battle, to dine as became men who were to sup with the dead. To one who said that the multitude of the Persian arrows would darken the sun, he answered, “Is it not an advantage for us to fight in the shade?”[35]

The body of Leonidas was beheaded and exposed on a cross by order of Xerxes: an act at variance with the usual generosity of the Persians, who were noted for the respect which they paid to bravery in an enemy. The Greeks were buried where they had fallen, the Spartans and Thespians apart from the rest, and a sepulchral barrow heaped over their remains, upon which the statue of a lion was subsequently placed in honour of Leonidas. Pillars were afterwards erected by the council of Amphictyons, with inscriptions to distinguish the resting-places of the slain. A tumulus still remains in the defile of ThermopylÆ, topped by the ruins of a massive basement, which is supposed by Dr. Clarke to be the monument above described, and to mark the very spot where this lofty sacrifice was completed. The following epitaph was engraved on the pillar erected in honour of those who fell before the departure of the allies: “Here four thousand Peloponnesians fought with three million of Persians.” The tomb of the Spartans was distinguished by these lines:—”Stranger, bear word to the LacedÆmonians that we lie here in obedience to their institutions.”[36] A pillar was also erected by the celebrated poet Simonides in commemoration of his friend, the seer Megistias, who being an Acarnanian, and therefore free to depart with the other Grecians, sent away his only son, but remained himself to perish with Leonidas. He placed on it this inscription:—

This tomb records Megistias’ honoured name,

Who, boldly fighting in the ranks of fame,
Fell by the Persians near Sperchius’ tide.

Both past and future well the prophet knew,

And yet, though death was open to his view,
He chose to perish at his general’s side.

At the time of the battle two Spartans, Aristodemus and Eurytus, were absent upon leave, being nearly blind from ophthalmia. Eurytus, on hearing that the Persians had turned the pass, called immediately for his armour, and, guided by a Helot, found his way to the battle in time to perish there. Aristodemus considered his illness a fair excuse to remain away from it; and this would have passed current at Sparta, the historian thinks, but for the contrast afforded by the conduct of Eurytus. As it was, the Spartans were greatly incensed: on his return he found himself a marked and dishonoured man, with whom none would converse, to whom none would give, and from whom none would receive, fire: a common method among the ancients of testifying abhorrence and renouncing intercourse; and he was usually called Aristodemus the trembler. He afterwards obliterated his disgrace at the battle of PlatÆa, where he was killed, after having merited the first prize of valour: but his behaviour then was considered sufficient only to restore his character, not to entitle him to the honours paid to others, the most distinguished of the slain. Another Spartan, Pantites, who had been despatched into Thessaly as a messenger, it was supposed might have hastened his return so as to have been present, and was also dishonoured. On his return to Sparta he hanged himself in despair.

The magnitude of the interest at stake, and the brilliant talents employed in celebrating the events of the Persian war, have conspired to confer extraordinary celebrity upon the self-devotion of Leonidas and his comrades. To the great merit of it we fully subscribe: its disinterestedness cannot be questioned, its wisdom and utility are justified by the panic fear of Persia still prevalent in Greece, which required to be dispelled by some lofty and spirit-stirring act of patriotism: but having paid our tribute of admiration to these brave men, and to the steady valour and patient endurance of the Athenians, we have, as will appear more fully in the next chapter, little commendation to bestow on the rest of Greece. The division of the country into small independent states, conducive perhaps to its glory, as tending to produce that extraordinary activity of mind, that multitude of distinguished names which adorn its history, was too dearly purchased by the spirit of rivalry and narrow-minded patriotism which it generated; if that feeling deserves to be called patriotism which looks merely to the aggrandisement of a single city at the expense of neighbours who should be endeared to her by the ties of blood, and by community of language, interests, and associations. One instance of this jealousy and disunion has already occurred in the tardy and ineffectual assistance sent by Peloponnesus to the northern states.

The history of Switzerland is, on the other hand, advantageously distinguished by the readiness which the different members of the Helvetic League have shown to succour each other, even where ruin seemed to be the consequence of interference. Before the admission of Berne into the Confederacy, that city, being menaced by a powerful army of nobles intent upon its destruction, sent a messenger to the cantons of Schwitz, Uri, and Underwalden, called the Waldstetten, or Forest Cantons, to represent the imminence of their danger and to implore succour. The people answered, “True friends appear in the time of need: go, tell your citizens we will prove it to them.” A body of nine hundred men immediately marched to the help of the Bernese, with whose assistance the celebrated battle of Laupen was fought and gained against immensely superior forces. Nor did Berne prove ungrateful for this timely aid. At a later period, the Forest Cantons being at war with Zuric, which had been detached by Austria from the interests of the Confederacy, and being threatened by the whole power of Austria itself, sent messengers to represent their situation to the Bernese, who had always been averse to the contest, and declined engaging in it. “Dear trusty Confederates,” they said, “remember the day of Laupen, when your ancestors, being threatened with utter ruin by the nobles, sent to us, to demand our aid. We were not at that time allied to you, and yet what did we say? ‘Need,’ we said, ‘is the test of friendship.’ You have heard of the tears of joy that were shed when our banners were seen approaching to your walls; you knew what Erlach said after the victory, ‘This day shall be an everlasting pledge of our union.’ From that day we have been allies. Men of Berne, sons of the conquerors of Laupen, we are now involved in great difficulties; the power of Austria, to which Zuric has basely surrendered, bears hard upon us; numbers of ours have perished within these few days, and our enemies expect great reinforcements from distant parts. We may be overpowered. Dear trusty Confederates, Need is the test of friendship.”[37] The name and recollection of Laupen had power to overrule the suggestions of prudence; the required succours were sent, and the Swiss were victorious.

Two of the many gallant struggles made by the Swiss in defence of their liberty have already been described. A third, the battle of St. Jaques, near Basle, has been called the Swiss ThermopylÆ; and the name is justified, not by the circumstances of the battle, but by the indomitable courage and uniform fate of the conquered. The Dauphin of France, afterwards Louis XI., at the head of a large army of the mercenary troops called Armagnacs, from the Counts D’Armagnac, two of their chiefs, advanced against Basle for the purpose of breaking up the council of the church then sitting there in defiance of the Pope, and to assist Frederic of Austria, the Emperor of Germany, in recovering the possessions in Switzerland which his ancestors had lost. His force consisted of 8000 English and 14,000 French, and was still further increased by the vassals of Austria. Sixteen hundred men were detached by the Swiss with orders to throw themselves into Basle at all hazards. Two of the members of the council, returning from the city, met them on the eve before the battle, and informed them of the strength of the enemy and the difficulty of reaching Basle. They replied, “If things must needs so happen to-morrow, and we cannot break by force through the said obstacles, we will consign our souls to God, and our bodies to the Armagnacs.” They advanced, and the same evening routed a corps of horse 8000 strong. “Early the next morning they arrived near a bridge over the Birs; and met emissaries from Basle, admonishing them not to attempt the passage of the river, the main army of the Dauphin being posted on its opposite banks. They might now have retreated with honour; but, flushed with the successes of the preceding day, and not doubting that, as they were now within a mile of Basle, the burghers would make a seasonable diversion in their favour, they resolved to accomplish the purpose for which they had been sent, or to perish in the attempt. They came to the bridge; but found it so strongly defended, that the forcing it was deemed wholly impracticable. They now threw themselves into the torrent, crossed it with the utmost speed, rushed up the opposite bank in the face of a numerous artillery, and began a dreadful slaughter, mowing down whole ranks of the enemy with their massive halberts, not, however, without great loss on their own part. Their forced marches, their previous conflicts, and their present arduous contest, had now so totally exhausted them, and their numbers were so greatly reduced, that in hopes of some respite they turned off to the right, and took shelter in the churchyard and orchard belonging to the hospital of St. Jacob, both surrounded by high walls. The burghers of Basle were at this critical moment preparing to send out a detachment; but the Dauphin, who expected the attempt, had posted eight thousand men on an eminence near the gate; who, had the garrison ventured the sally, would have cut off their retreat, and exposed them to inevitable destruction. The cannon of the French meanwhile had not only thrown down the walls round the hospital, but also set fire to the building; and the Confederates, in the midst of flames and ruins, found themselves at the same time exposed to the attacks of accumulated numbers, without any defence but their firmness and valour. They still might have retreated without any disparagement to their honour; but after a short consultation, they resolved to devote themselves for the good of their country, and fall together. The heroic deeds that were achieved in this memorable conflict, the number of fierce assaults this devoted band sustained and repelled, how each warrior fell successively on the identical spot he had first occupied, are facts imperfectly related, but may be well inferred from the general circumstances of the action. They fought ten hours without intermission; till at length, exhausted but not conquered, they all (twelve only excepted) lay lifeless on the field of action. Each had four or five enemies around him, whom he had despatched before his fall. Burcard Monk, the faithless guide of the invaders, riding in the evening over the field of slaughter, exclaimed triumphantly, ‘This is indeed a bath of roses!’ An expiring Swiss heard him, raised himself on his knees, snatched a large stone, and hurled it at the head of the vaunting traitor, who died three days after of the contusion. The twelve who, when no hopes remained, retired from the carnage, with difficulty escaped the hands of the executioner, to which the law of Sempach doomed all who turned away from an enemy.

“The Dauphin concealed the number of his slain, by causing them to be immediately committed to the flames; but six hundred dead horses found on the field sufficiently evinced the magnitude of his loss. Fearful of such another victory, he drew off his forces into Alsace, committed depredations on both sides of the Rhine, and gave the Emperor ample reason to repent of having, called in such auxiliaries. After his retreat, the burghers of Basle gathered the bodies of the Confederates, and with solemn obsequies buried them in the churchyard of St. Jacob.”[38] Six thousand French are reported to have fallen. Æneas Sylvius, afterwards Pope Pius II., was present at the council of Basle, and gives a lively description of the battle in one of his letters. “Here was fought a stern and piteous battle. The Swiss tore the bloody arrows from their bodies; those even who had a hand lopped off rushed on the enemy and took a life in exchange for their own. Four Armagnacs attacked one Switzer, and felled him, when a comrade rushed upon them, grasping his battle-axe, and slew two; the others fled. He carried off the yet breathing body to his comrades. Behind the Swiss there was a walled orchard, which they thought would protect them, so that they would only have to fight to the front. But the Germans and Armagnacs undermined the wall, which was the chief cause of the destruction of the Swiss. They fought in front and to the rear, man to man, sword to sword. The Swiss, like lions, forced their way unconquered through the army, slaying and overturning all, as men who know that they fight with no hope of victory, but to avenge their death: the battle lasted from the dawn till evening. At length the Swiss fell amidst the mighty host of the enemy, not conquered, but rather weary with conquering. A mournful and most bloody victory was it to the Armagnacs, and the field remained in their possession, from their superiority, not in bravery, but in numbers.”

The law of Sempach, which is mentioned above, furnishes a good specimen of the simplicity and resolution of the Swiss character. Modern treaties of alliance are hardly so brief, so emphatic, or so well observed.

“We, the eight Helvetic Cantons, and the city and district of Soleure, agree to preserve peace and unanimity amongst ourselves, and to uphold each other, so that every individual may enjoy perfect security in his house, and be no ways molested either in his person or property. All traders shall be protected in their persons and merchandise. No one shall wantonly give cause for dissension, or be accessory in fomenting animosities; but when a war cannot be avoided, and our banners advance against an enemy, each of us will, after the example of our forefathers in their many perils, firmly unite, and march out together to redress our wrongs. Whoever deviates from his duty, or otherwise transgresses the laws, and is convicted thereof by two credible witnesses before the tribunal to which he is amenable, shall be sentenced to personal or pecuniary correction. Should any one in battle, or at an attack, be wounded so as to be disabled from service, he shall nevertheless retain his station, and continue there amidst his companions, until the conflict is terminated, and danger is at an end. On no account must the field of battle be deserted: and (as an enemy has often rallied among the pillagers; and lately, at Sempach, the foe would have sustained greater loss had not our men been too eager after booty) no one shall betake himself to spoil until permitted by the commander. All the plunder taken shall be delivered to the commander, who shall make an equal distribution of it according to the number of men from each canton. Since Almighty God has declared churches to be his habitation, and has been pleased to effect the salvation of mankind by means of a woman, it is our will and positive decree that none of us shall break open, pillage, or burn, any church or chapel, or any way insult or molest a woman: this law shall suffer no exception, unless when enemies or their property are secreted in sanctuaries, or when women by their clamours impede the progress of our force. This we ordain, accept, and confirm by oath, at a general diet held at Zuric, on the 10th of July, in the year of our Lord 1393.”

Vertot, in his History of the Knights of Malta, relates a striking anecdote of similar courage and devotion. “When the Turks besieged that island in 1565, John de la Valette being then Grand Master, they first attacked the castle of St. Elmo, an outpost too small and too distant from the main works to hold out long against their continual assaults. The knights who were quartered there made a gallant resistance, but their cannon being dismounted, their defences breached, and their numbers thinned, they sent a deputation to the Grand Master to represent the deplorable condition of the place, that it was no longer tenable, and that sending over reinforcements to them was worse than useless, because it insensibly consumed the troops necessary for the defence of the island. Most of the Grand Crosses, who composed the council of the Order, coincided with these views, but the Grand Master was of a contrary opinion. He agreed, indeed, that the fort was not tenable, and owned that he could not but lament the fate of the knights who in so dangerous a post were exposed to daily death; but he insisted that there are some circumstances in which it is necessary to hazard some of the limbs to save the body. The Viceroy of Sicily, to whom they looked for relief, had declared, that if that fort were lost he would not attempt to save the island. The whole safety of Malta, therefore, depended on the length of the siege, and it was absolutely necessary to protract it as long as possible. The Council came over to his opinion, and with their concurrence he impressed on the garrison that the preservation or loss of the island, and, perhaps, of the Order itself, depended on the time that they should hold out the place, and bade them call to mind the vows they had made at their profession, and that they were obliged to sacrifice their lives for the defence of the Order. Finally, he would not fail to send such reinforcements as the smallness of the fort would admit of, and, if necessary, would throw himself into the place, and there die with them.”

After a series of bloody assaults, from the 24th of May to the 21st of June, the garrison were reduced to extremity. They sent a swimmer across the port to the Grand Master, to request succour, and five large boats were soon fitted out and filled with knights. But the shore was now lined with Turkish artillery, and they were unable to effect a landing. “The besieged in the fort being now out of all hopes of succour, thought of nothing but ending their lives like good Christians and true religious. For which purpose they were all night long preparing themselves for it, by receiving the sacraments of the church: when this was over, and that nothing remained but the giving up their souls to God, they embraced one another with tenderness, and retired to their several posts in order to die with their weapons in their hands, and expire in the bed of honour. Such as were not able to walk by reason of their wounds, had themselves carried in chairs to the side of the breach, where, armed with swords, which they held with both their hands, they waited with a heroic resolution till such time as their enemies, towards whom they were not able to advance, should come and attack them in their posts.

“The next day, the 23rd of June, the Turks, at daybreak, came on to the assault with great shouts, as if they were going to a victory which it would be impossible to dispute with them. But the Christian soldiers defended themselves with invincible bravery; one would have thought that the certainty of an approaching death which they were to share in common with the knights, had put them on the same level with respect to courage. They advanced to meet the enemy with as much intrepidity as if they had beaten them, and such as could not walk fired on the enemy with their pieces; and when by reason of their continual discharges they had spent all their powder, they supplied themselves from the pouches of their comrades who had dropped by their side: in fine, the knights having sustained an assault for four hours together, had but sixty persons left to defend the breach; but these were something more than men, who, by a noble contempt of death, still made their enemies tremble. The commander, seeing the place on the point of being forced by the Turks, recalled some Christian soldiers, who till then had maintained themselves upon the cavalier which lay before the fort. The basha, seeing the breach fortified with this small reinforcement, discontinued the assault in an instant, as if he had again been disheartened by so obstinate a resistance, and pretended to retire, but it was only to make his janissaries seize, not only on the cavalier, which was abandoned, but likewise on all such points as were higher than the breach, and overlooked the inside of the fort. The besieged employed this little suspension from fighting in dressing their wounds, not so much for the sake of preserving the poor remains of life as to enable themselves to fight for some moments longer with greater vigour. At eleven in the morning the Turks returned to the assault with new strength, and the janissaries, who from the top of the cavalier and other posts commanded the place with their muskets, pointed out all such persons as they had a mind to kill. The greater part of them perished by the enemies’ fire; the bailiff of Negropont, together with most of the knights and soldiers that were left, being overwhelmed with numbers, died upon the breach; and this terrible assault was discontinued only for lack of combatants, not ending but with the death of the last knight.”[39]

The struggle recently concluded in Greece has been well calculated to awaken the sleeping energies of her people. It is, however, too recent, and the present generation has suffered too severely from the misrule and ignorance under which it was nurtured, for us either to judge severely their past faults and mistakes, or to augur over boldly concerning their future policy and conduct. That much of selfishness, cabal, and perfidy occurred in the late war, and materially retarded the expulsion of the Turks, is certain; but no one can now assert that Hellenic courage is extinct, and, for Hellenic virtue, we hope to see it much more prominent in the national character than it ever yet has been. The Greeks have long been considered a degraded race: the more civilized, and especially the trading part of them, proverbially mean and dishonest; the mountaineers possessed of the few and capricious virtues, together with the many vices, of barbarians. The time for these general charges is now at an end. From henceforth Greece, we trust, will again rank among the independent nations of Europe: it depends on herself whether she will merit the affection and sympathy which the recollection of her former splendour and long suffering inspires. Nor do we hesitate to believe that she will do so, and to appeal in proof of this to the number of her sons who for years have frequented happier parts of Europe for the sake of a more enlightened and extended education than they could obtain at home. Those who worked their deliverance from a bondage of such ancient date, were necessarily tainted with the vices which that bondage engendered: but as the advantages which the rising generation has possessed become more general, and as they succeed to the place and influence of their fathers, who can doubt but that the governors will learn to prefer the general good to their own factions, and corrupt and precarious interests, and the people to appreciate the blessing of internal order, to form true judgments of the national welfare, and to compel attention to it?

On the breaking out of the revolution the students dispersed among the European universities were among the first to offer themselves as soldiers in support of it. Armed in the European manner, they enrolled themselves in a corps called ?e??? ?????, the sacred band, a title taken from the brief period of Theban splendour under Epaminondas, and assumed as the motto of their standards ?a?at?? ? ??e????a, death or freedom, and the inscription of the Spartan shield, ? t?? ? ?p? t??,[40] this, or upon this. The greater part had never felt hardship, nor handled a military weapon before, yet they endured fatigue, privation, and discipline with submission and fortitude, setting an example to the rest which was badly followed. There were about 500 men of this corps with Alexander Ypsilante in his last campaign in Moldavia, on whom he justly placed his chief reliance, and their bravery and unfortunate fate is worthy to be placed by the side of the story of ThermopylÆ.

In June, 1821, a severe action took place at Tergowitz, in which the Greeks were worsted, and the Sacred Band much cut up, not without severe loss on the part of the enemy. On the 19th the battle was renewed at Tergoressi. Ypsilante charged at the head of the Sacred Band with an impetuosity which broke the foremost ranks of the Turks. But at the moment when victory seemed to be declaring in their favour, Constantine Douca, an officer of the Greek cavalry, not content with deserting his country in her need, charged treacherously upon his countrymen. Being thus unexpectedly supported, the Turks rallied, and Ypsilante, almost surrounded, with difficulty drew off his troops. The same night he commenced his retreat towards Rimnik, closely pursued, and a third action took place at break of day, at a place called Drageschan, in which another traitor, named Caravia, who commanded the remainder of the cavalry, deserted with them, and the infantry who remained were cut to pieces. The Sacred Band made a gallant defence: the Mussulman infantry thrice charged them, and were thrice repulsed, but the cavalry swept around them, unable to break their ranks, and brought them down by repeated pistol shots. There escaped but about a score, who, with their general, forced a passage through the enemy.

“I cannot describe to you the feelings of respect and regret with which I walked over the ground that covered the remains of these young heroes. I had not long before visited the field of Marathon, and the recollections of it, and of Dr. Johnson’s effusion, were fresh in my mind; but the impressions of both were cold and feeble compared with those of Drageschan. Here was an act of courage and self-devotion among modern Greeks, that rivalled anything similar in the best days of their ancestors, and I was on the spot while the event was yet recent, and their bodies, if I may so say, scarce cold in the clay that covered them. No one has hitherto dared to erect a tomb to designate the spot where they lie, but they live imperishably in the memory of their country; and when England and her allies shall replace it in its due rank among the nations of Christian Europe, a monument on the field of Drageschan will not be forgotten.”[41]

The battle of Roncesvalles occupies the same prominent station in romance that ThermopylÆ does in history. There are few who have not heard in childhood, how the twelve peers of Charlemagne, unequalled in arms, were surrounded by the Saracens in that fatal valley, and slain with their followers to a man, after performing prodigies of valour; or who have read the tale without hating the traitor Ganellon, the Ephialtes of the Christian army. The fact is simply this: Charlemagne’s rearguard, as he returned from an invasion of Spain, was surrounded and cut off with its commander, his nephew Roland or Orlando (the rest of the Paladins are chiefly fabulous), not by the Saracens, but by the Pyrenean mountaineers. The mighty superstructure of falsehood which has been raised on this foundation owes its existence chiefly to the pretended Chronicle of Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims, contemporary with Charlemagne; a work whose real author has not been ascertained, but which was not written before the eleventh century. Its monstrous fictions were pronounced authentic by Pope Calixtus II., a.d. 1122, and have been carefully embodied in the Chronicles of the monks of St. Denys, the most voluminous compilers of their age. So much for the way in which history is manufactured. It has been freely translated by Caxton, and enlarged with incidents from other sources, in a book entitled “The Hystory and Lyf of the Most Noble Crysten Prince Charles the Grete, Kyng of Fraunce and Emperour of Rome, reduced from the latyn and romaunse tongue to thexaltacyon of the crysten faith, and the confusyon of the hethen Sarazyns and myscreants, which is a werk wel contemplatyf for to lyve wel.—The which werk was fynysshed in the reducing of hit into englysshe the xviii day of Juyn, the second yere of Kyng Richard the thyrd, the yere of our Lord Mcccclxxxv. And imprynted the fyrst day of decembre, the same yere of our Lorde, and the fyrst yere of Kyng Harry the seventh.” This book is a good specimen of the studies then fashionable, and also of the style of the father of English printing; who, like very many of the early practisers of that art, was eminent as a man of letters as well as a craftsman. In this capacity, and as a curious instance of what has passed for history, we quote his narrative of the battle of Roncesvalles, though it be rather long, in hope that the quaintness both of the matter and manner may be found amusing: to those who still feel an interest in the amusements of their childhood, it will need no apology. The story is familiar through the medium of Italian and French romance; but comparatively few are likely to have seen it in its ancient dress.

“HOW the treason was comprysed by Ganellon, and of the deth of crysten men, and how Ganellon is repreuyd by thauctour. Capitulo i.

“In this tyme were in Cezarye two kynges sarazyns moche myghty, that one was named Marfurius, and that other Bellegardus his brother. Whyche were sente by thadmyral of Babylonne into Spayne, the whych were under Kyng Charles, and made to hym sygne of love and of subjectyon, and went by hys commaundement holyly, and under the shadow of deceptyon. Themperour seyng that they were not crystens, and for to get seignourye over them, he sent for Ganellon in whome he had fyaunce; that they sholde doo baptyse them, or elles that they sholde sende to him trybute in sygne of fydelite of their contre. Ganellon the traytre went thyder, and dyd to them the message, and after that he had with them many deceyvable wordes, they sent hym ageyn to Charles wyth xxx hors, laden with gold and sylver, wyth clothes of sylke and other rychesses, and iiii hondred hors, laden wyth swete wyn for to gyve to the men of warre for to drynke; and also they sent above thys to them, a thousand fayr wymmen sarazyns in grete poynte and yonge of age. And alle thys in sygne of love and of obeissaunce: and after they gaf to Ganellon xx hors charged wyth gold and sylver, sylkes and other precyosytes, that by his moyen he sholde brynge in to theyr handes the companye of Charles, if he myghte doo it.

“Thenne Ganellon was surprysed wyth this fals avaryce, whych consumeth alle the sweteness of charyte that is in persones, for to have gold, or sylver and other richesses; and made a pacte and covenaunte wyth the sarazyns for to betray his lord, hys neyghbours and crysten bretheren, and sware that he wold not faylle them of thenterpryse. But I merveille moche of Ganellon, whyche made thys treason without to have cause, coloured ne juste.

“O wycked Ganellon, thou were comen of noblesse, and thou hast doon a werk vylaynous, thou wert ryche and a grete lord, and for money thou hast betrayed thy mayster. Emonge alle other thou wert chosen for to goo to the sarazyns for grete trust emonge all the other, and for the fydelyte that was thought in thee; thou hast consented to trayson, and allone hast commyted infydelyte. Fro whens cometh thyn inyquyte, but of a fals wylle, plunged in thabysme of avaryce. Thy natural soveraign lorde, Rolland, Olyver, and the other, what have they doon to thee? yf thou have a wycked hate agaynst one person, wherefore consentest thou to destroy thynnocentes? was there noo persone that thou lovedest whan to all crysten men thou hast ben traytre? was there ony reason in thee whan thou hast ben capytayn agenst the fayth? what availeth the prowesse that thou hast made in tyme passed whan thyne end sheweth that thou hast doon wyckednes? O fals avaryce, and ardeur of concupiscence, he is not the fyrst that by the is comen to myschyef! by the Adam was to God dysobeysaunt, and the noble cyte of Troy the grande put to uttre ruyne and destructyon! Thus in thys manere Ganellon brought gold and sylver, wyn wymmen and other richesses as tofore he had enterprysed. Whan Charles sawe al this, he thought that al way doon in good entent, and equyte, and wythout barat.[42] The gret lordes and knyghtes toke the wyn for them, and Charles toke onely the gold and sylver, and the moyen people took the hethen wymmen. Themperour gaf consente to the wordes of Ganellon. For he spake moche wysely, and wrote in suche wyse that Charles and alle hys hoost passed the porte of Cezarye, for Ganellon dyd hym to understonde, that the kynges aforesayd wold become crysten, and be baptysed, and swere fydelyte to themperour. And anone sent hys peple tofore, and he came after in the ryerewarde, and had sent Roulland, and Olyver, and the moost specyal of hys subgettes wyth a thousand[43] fyghtyng men, and were in Rouncyvale. Thenne the kynges Marfuryus and Bellegardus after the counceyl of Ganellon, wyth fyfty thousand sarasyns were hidde in a wode, abydyng and awaytyng the frenssh men, and there they abode ii dayes and two nyghtys and devyded theyr men in two partyes. In the first they put xx m sarasyns, and in that other they put xxx m sarasyns—In the vauntegarde of Charles were xx m crysten men, whyche anone were assayled wyth xx m sarasyns, and maad warre in such wyse, that they were constreyned to withdrawe them. For fro the morning unto the houre of tyerce, they feared not to fyght and smyte on them, wherefore the crysten men were moche wery, and had nede to reste theym. Nevertheles they dronken wel of the good swete wyn of the sarasyns moche largely. And after many of them that were dronke went and laye by the wymmen sarasynois, and also wyth other that they had brought oute of Fraunce. Wherefor the wylle of God was, that they sholde all be dede, to thende that their martyrdom and passyon myght be the cause of theyr salvacion and purgyng of theyr synne. For anone after the thyrty thousand sarasyns cam that were in the second batayl upon the frenssh men soo impetuously that they were al dede and slayn. Except Roulland, Baulduyn and Thyerry, the other were slayn and dede with speres, some flayn, some rosted, and other quartered, and submysed to many tormentes. And whan thys discomfiture was doon, Ganellon was with Charles, and also tharchebysshop Turpyn, whych knew nothyng of this werke so sorouful, sauf onely the traytre, whyche supposed that they had al ben destroyed and put to deth. Of the languysshe that was comynge to Charles he wyst not how sone it was comynge.

“OF the deth of kyng Marforius, and how Roulland was hurt wyth four speres mortally, after that al his peple were slayn. Capitulo ii.

“The bataylle as I have sayd tofore was moche sharpe. Whan Roulland, which was moche wery, retourned, he encountred in hys waye a sarasyn moche fyers, and blacke as boylled pytch and anone he toke hym at thentre of a wode, and bonde hym to a tree straytely, wythoute doyng to him any more harme, and after took and rode upon a hylle for to see the hoost of the sarasyns, and the crysten menne that were fledde, and sawe grete quantyte of paynyms. Wherefore anone he sowned and blew his horne of yvorie moche lowde. And wyth that noyse came to hym an hundred crysten men wel arayed and habylled wythoute moo. And whan they were come to hym, he retorned to the sarasyn that was bounde to the tree. And Roulland helde his sword over hym, saying that he shold deye, if he shewed to hym not clerely the kyng Marfuryus, and yf he so sholde do, he sholde not deye. The sarasyn was content, and sware that he sholde gladly do it for to save hys lyf, and soo he brought hym with hym unto the place where they sawe the paynyms, and shewed to Rolland whyche was the kynge, whych rode upon a redde hors, and other certayn tokenes. And in thys poynt, Roulland reconfermed in hys strengthe, trustying veryly in the myght of God, and in the name of Jhesus, as a lyon entred into the bataylle, and emonge them he encountred a sarasyn, whych was gretter than ony of the other, and gaf to hym so grete a stroke wyth Durindal his swerde upon the hede, that he cleft hym and hys hors in two partes, that the one parte went on one syde, and that other on the other syde. Wherefore the sarasyns were soo troubled and abasshed of the myght and puissaunce of Rolland, that they alle fled tofore hym, and then abode the kyng Marfuryus wyth a fewe folke. Thenne Rolland sawe thys kynge. And wythout fere came to hym and putte hym to deth incontynent. And alle the hondred crysten men that were wyth Roulland in thys rencountre were dolorously slayn and put to deth, except onely Baulduyn and Thyerry, whych for fere fled into the wode. But after that Rolland had slayn kyng Marfuryus, he was sore oppressed and in suche wyse deteyned, that wyth four grete speres he was smyten and wounded mortally, and beten wyth stones, and hurte wyth dartes and other shotte mortally. And notwithstondyng these grevous hurtes and woundes yet maulgre al the sarasyns he sprange out of the bataylle, and sauved hymself the best wyse he myght. Bellegardus broder of Marfuryus, doubtyng that helpe and ayde sholde come to the crysten people, retorned into another countreye wyth hys peple moche hastely. And thempereur Charles had thenne passed the montagne of Roncyvale, and knewe nothynge of these thynges aforesayd, ne what he had doon.

“HOW Rolland deyed holyly after many martyres and orysons made to God ful devoutely, and of the complaynte maad for hys swerde Durandal. Capitulo iii.

“Rolland the valyaunt, and champyon of the crysten fayth, was moche sorouful of the crysten men bycause they had noo socours. He was moche very gretely abasshed and moche affebled in hys persone, for he had lost moche of hys blode by his foure mortal woundes, of whych the leste of them was suffysaunt for hym to have deyed, and he had gret payn to get hym oute fro the Sarasyns, for to have a lytel commemoracyon of God before or the soule sholde depart fro hys body. So moche he enforced hym, that he came to the fote of a montayne nygh to the port of Cesarye, and brought hymself nygh to a rocke ryght by Roncyval, under a tree in a fayr medowe. Whan he sat doon on the grounde he byheld hys swerde, the best that ever was, named Durandal, whych is as moche to say as gyvyng an hard stroke, whych was ryght fayr and rychely made: the handle was of fyn beryle shynynge mervaylously, on it it had a fayre crosse of gold in the whych was wryton the name of Jhesus. It was so good and fyn that sooner sholde the arme fayle than the swerde: he toke it oute of the shethe, and sawe it shyne moche bryght, and bycause it sholde chaunge hys maister he had moche sorrowe in hys herte, and wepynge, he said in this maner pytously, ‘O swerde of valure, the fayrest that ever was, thou were never but fayr, ne never fonde I the but good! Thou hast been so moche honoured that alway thou barest with the the name of the blessed Jhesus, sauvyour of the world, which has endowed the wyth the power of God. Who may comprehende thy valure! Alas, who shal have the after me! Whosomever hath the shall never be vanquysshed; alway shall he have good fortune! Alas, what shall I moreover say for the good swerde; many sarasyns have been destroyed by the; thynfydels and myscreaunts have ben slayn by the; the name of God is exalted by the; by the is made the path of sauvement! O how many tymes have I by the avenged thynjury made to God! O how many men have I smyton, and cutte asondre by the myddle! O my swerde whych has ben my comfort and my joye, whych never hurtest persone that myght escape fro deth. O my swerde, yf ony persone of noo value sholde have the, and I knewe it, I sholde deye for sorowe!’ After that Rolland had wept ynough he had fere that some paynym myght fynd it after hys deth. Wherfore he concluded in hymself to breke it, and toke it, and smote upon a rocke wyth all hys myght iii tymes wythout hurtynge ony thynge the swerde, and clefte the rocke to therthe, and colde in no wyse breke the swerde. Whan he sawe the facyon, and colde do no more therto, he toke his horne whych was of yvorie moche rychely made, and sowned and blewe it moche strongely, to thende that yf there were ony crysten men hyd in the wodes, or in the waye of theyr retournynge, that they sholde come to hym before they went any further, and tofore he rendered hys soule. Then seynge that none came he sowned it ageyn by soo grete force and vertu, and soo impetously, that the horne roof asondre in the myddle, and the vaynes of hys necke braken asondre, and the synewes of hys bodye stratched. And that noyse or voys, by the grace of God came to the eeres of Charles, whych was eyght myles fro hym. The emperour heerynge the horne, he knewe well that Rolland had blowen it, and wolde have retorned ageyn; but Ganellon the traytre which knewe wel alle the fayt dystourned hym, in sayenge that Rolland had blowen hys horne for some wylde beest that he chaced for hys playsyr; for oft tyme he wold blowe hys horne for lytel thynge: and that he sholde not doubte of nothynge. And thus he dyd the kynge to understond, that he beleyved hym and made none other semblaunt. Nevertheles Rolland beynge in thys sorowe, he peased hys woundes al so wel as he myght, and stratched himself on the grasse to the fressheness for to forget hys thurst, whych was over grete.

“Here upon Baulduyn hys brother came unto hym, whyche was moche hevy and soroweful for hys brother Rolland whych was in that necessyte. And anone Roulland sayd to hym, ‘My frende and my brother, I have so grete thurst that I must nedes dye yf I have not drynke to aswage my thurst.’

“Baulduyn had grete payn in goynge here and there, and colde fynde noo water, and came to hym ageyn, and sayde he colde fynde none; and in grete anguysse he lepte on Roulland’s hors, and rode for to fetch Charles; for he knewe wel that Roulland was nyghe hys deth. Anone after came to hym Thyerry duc of Ardayne, whych wept upon Roulland so continually, that he myght not speke but wyth gret payn. Rolland confessed hym and dysposed hym of hys conscience, nevertheles that same day Rolland had receyved the body of our Lord. For the custom was that the subgettes of Charles that day whych they sholde fyght, were confessed and comuned wythoute fayllynge by men of the chyrche, whych alway were wyth them. Rolland whych knewe hys ende by entyer contemplacyon, hys eyen lyfte up to heven, and hys hondes joyned, al stratched in the medowe, began to say thus, ‘Fayre Lorde God my maker, my redemour, son of the gloryous moder of comfort, thou knowest myn entencyon, thou knowest what I have doon. For the bounte that is in the, by the grete mercy of whyche thou art envyronned, by the grace whych in the aboundeth, by the meryte of thy passyon holy and bytter, wyth a good and humble hert I requyre the that tofore the thys daye my faultes, synnes, and ygnoraunces may be pardonned to me. And take no regarde to the trespaces that I have doon to the, but beholde that I deye for the and in the fayth that thou hast ordeyned: remembre that thou hangest on the tree of the crosse for the synnars, and so as thou hast redeemed me, I beseech the that I be not loste. Alas, my maker God omnipotent, wyth good wyll I departed out of my countreye for to defend thy name, and for to mayntene crystendom. Thou knowest that I have suffred many angoysses of hungre, of thurst, of hete, of colde, and many mortal woundes. And day and nyght to the my God I yelde me culpable. I mystrust not thy mercy, thou art pytous, thou art comen for the synnars, thou pardonest Mary Magdalen and the good theef on the crosse bycause they retourned unto the; they were synnars as I am; lyke as they dyd, I crye for mercy, and better yf I colde say it. Thou byheldest how Abraham was obeyssaunt to the of hys sone Isaac, wherefore he ferde moche the better; byholde me how I am obedyent to the commaundements of the chyrche. I byleve in the, I love the above all other, I love my neyghbour. O good Lord, I beseche the to pardone and forgive alle theym that thys daye ben deed in my companye, that they may be saved. Also my maker I requyre the to take heed of the pacyence of Job, for whych he was moche the better, that I deye here for thurst, and am alone. I am wounded mortally, and may not helpe myself; and take in pacyence alle the sorowe that I suffre, and am therwyth content when it pleaseth the. As all thys is trewe, pardone me, comforte my spyryte, receyve my soule, and brynge me to reste perdurable.’ Whan Rolland had prayed thus, he sette hys handes on hys bodye, holdyng hys flesshe, and after sayd thre tymes, ‘Et in carne mea videbo Deum salvatorem meum,’ and after layed hys handes on hys eyen, and sayd, ‘Et oculi isti conspecturi sunt.’ ‘In thys flesshe that I hold I shall see my sauyour, and these eyen shal behold hym:’ and after, he sayd, that he sawe thynges celestyall, whych the eyen of man myght not see, nor the eeres here, ne the hert thynke, the glory whych God hath maad redy to them that love hym. And in sayenge, ‘In manus tuas Domine commendo spiritum meum,’ ‘Into thy handes, O Lord, I commende my spyryte,’ he layed hys armes upon his body in maner of a crosse, and gaf and rendred his soule to God the xvi kalends of Juyl.[44]

“OF the rysyon of the deth of Roulland, and of the sorowe of Charles. Capitulo iiii.

“The day that Roulland the marter rendred hys soule unto God, I Turpyn, archbysshop of Raymes, was in the valeye of Rouncyval, tofore Charles the Emperour, and sayde masse for the soules whych were passed out of thys world. And as I was in the secrete of the masse I was ravysshed, and herd the aungellys of heven synge and make grete melodye. And I wyst not what it might be, ne wherfore they soo dyd. And as I sawe the aungellys mount into heven on hye, I saw comynge a grete legyon of knyghtes alle blacke ageynst me, the whych bere a praye whereof they made grete noyse. Whan they were tofore me in passynge, I sayd to them, and demaunded who they were, and what they bare. One of the deveylles aunswered and sayd, we bere the kyng Marfuryus into helle, for long agoon he hath well deserved it. And Roulland your trumpette, wyth Michel thaungel, and many other in his companye, is brought into joye perdurable to heven. And as the masse was fynysshed, I recounted to Charles the vysyon whyche I had seen, how thaungellys of heven bare the soule of Roulland into Paradys, and the devylles bare the soule of a sarasyn into helle. Thus as I sayde these wordes Baulduyn whyche rode on Rolland’s hors came hastely, and sayd to Charles how the crysten men were dede and bytrayed, and how Rolland was hurte, and in what estate he had left hym.”