Don John of Austria

IN one of the public squares of the city of Messina there stands a colossal bronze statue, by Andrea Calamach, which was erected in the year 1572, in honor of the great naval battle of Lepanto. The exposure of three centuries has left no trace of the gilding which originally adorned this noble statue, but the event and the man that it commemorates have not ceased to shine in the pages of history. For the figure, which is sheathed in rich armor and grasps the triple truncheon of the Holy League, is that of Don John of Austria, who followed up his successes over the Moors by saving Christendom from the supremacy of the Turks. He was only twenty-four years of age when he won Lepanto, and his previous experience was so romantic that nothing seemed impossible in a career which had thus far set probabilities at defiance. The dazzling splendors of his early triumphs deepened the gloom which shadowed his later years, and his death, at the age of thirty-one, added the final touch of pathos to a life for which it appeared as if fortune must have some compensating favors in reserve.

The career of Don John of Austria, however, has an interest beyond that of personal successes and disappointments, for it illustrates a mighty conflict of principles and institutions. In that great sixteenth century in which he lived, he played the double part of the champion of civilization against the infidel and of the supporter of Spanish despotism against the growing power of civil and religious liberty as represented in the revolt of the Netherlands. The qualities which he displayed in upholding a cause which is repugnant to modern ideas of justice and humanity help us to understand the reactionary ideas and institutions of his age, and to appreciate the character of their supporters. To account for the influence exercised by the Inquisition, we must recognize its hold not only upon Torquemada and Alva, but upon Isabella of Castile and Don John of Austria. Nothing is more misleading in history than the tendency to judge men and events by present standards of moral and intellectual progress, and to condemn individuals and peoples for not reaching a plane of enlightenment which is the result of a more advanced civilization. So far is the complexion of human actions dependent upon education and environment that a man who burned heretics in the sixteenth century might be an opponent of the vivisection of animals if he lived in the nineteenth, and a member of the Council of Blood be an officer of the Humane Society.

Fresh interest has been given to the career of Don John of Austria by the publication of the late Sir William Stirling-Maxwell’s elaborate biography ; and M. Forneron, in his recent Histoire de Philippe II., has added to the stock of information concerning the hero of Lepanto which has been furnished by such modern historians as Ranke and Prescott and Motley.

The romance which colors the career of Don John of Austria began with his birth. The reputed son of the Emperor Charles V. by Barbara Blomberg, an humble resident of Ratisbon, he was kept in ignorance of his imperial origin till he had reached the age of twelve. Yet he had been removed from his mother’s care soon after his birth, which according to the best authorities, took place on the 24th of February, 1547. From what is known of Barbara Blomberg’s disposition, which twenty years later tried the patience of the Duke of Alva, who had been deputed by Philip II. to look after her, her illegitimate sou may he thought to have had a lucky escape from her influence. Her singing is said to have allayed the melancholy of Charles V. ; and although her voice sounded harsh to Alva, it should be remembered that he was hardly the person to evoke harmony, especially from a woman who had lost a husband since her liaison with the emperor, and who was naturally irritated by the grim duke’s efforts to restrain her extravagance, to prevent her from marrying again, and even to immure her in a Spanish nunnery.

When, in after years, Don John himself, who had not seen his mother since he was a baby, came to the Netherlands as a royal governor, he induced her to yield to the king’s desire, and make her home in Spain. She is said to have repaid his efforts, which had been preceded by a liberal allowance in addition to the royal pension, by denying that he was the emperor’s son. This unmotherly gibe was naturally turned to account by Don John’s enemies, but it is of little value as evidence. The position of Commissary of Brussels which Charles V. bestowed upon Barbara Blomberg’s husband, who rejoiced in the name of Jerome Pyramus Kegel; the pension which he settled upon her on his death-bed ; and the efforts of Philip II. to comfort her impoverished widowhood and prevent her from disgracing his father’s memory and from clouding his brother’s prospects, confirm the contemporary belief in Don John’s imperial parentage.

It was no doubt the lowly position of the boy’s mother that deterred Charles V. from publicly acknowledging him as a son, and giving to him something of the consideration which was so early shown to the emperor’s natural daughter, Margaret of Parma, whose mother was of a high-born Netherland family. Though imperial favor could dignify its recipient, of whatever social rank, the irresponsible victim of illicit love was at the mercy of paternal caprice in after life. Charles V. prudently resolved to test the character and capacity of Don John before investing him with the dignities to which his origin gave him an uncertain claim. Perhaps the fact that the boy was born on the 24th of February, the feast of the apostolic St. Matthias, which Charles V., whose own birthday it was, counted as the most fortunate of his life, may have led the emperor to especial care in the selection of a guardian for this child of his old age.

On being taken away from his mother, the still nursing infant was sent to Spain, and placed in charge of Louis Quixada, vice-chamberlain of the imperial household under the Duke of Alva, who had not then exhibited the ferocity which has made his name infamous. Quixada, who was a soldier of noble birth and proved ability, left the child for four years, at the emperor’s suggestion, in the family of a retired violinist, a Fleming named Massi, who had been in the imperial service. The boy was represented to the musician and his wife, who were then living in a village near Madrid, as the son of one of the emperor’s gentlemen in waiting.

Among the state papers of Cardinal Granvelle is a copy of the contract made by the custodians of the child, which shows the care used to conceal his identity. They bound themselves not to reveal the name of the groom of his majesty’s chamber whom they had been told was his father, but to bring him up as their own child, and deliver him only to that officer, or to his representative producing the paper, which their son was also obliged to sign. An additional interest was lent to their charge by the parting words of Charles V. to his violinist : " I hear that Quixada has given you a commission. Remember that I shall consider the fulfillment of his wish as good service done to myself.” The education of the boy was entrusted by Quixada’s orders, which had been approved by the emperor, to the village curate, who neglected his duty. The child was thus left to grow up with hardly more schooling than that of the peasant lads, whose sports he shared, He developed some of the qualities which were to make him famous by becoming a leader in daring adventures, and in spreading destruction among the sparrows with his little cross-bow.

After four years of this hummble life, Don John was removed, by the emperor’s desire, to Quixada’s own home in Villagarcia, near Valladolid, where his wife, the high-born Magdalen Ulloa, who had no children of her own, tenderly cared for the little stranger. But her husband’s deep interest in the new-comer awakened uncomfortable suspicions that he was its father, despite his story that it was the son of a great man, his dear friend. An occurrence which might well have increased her misgivings soon set them at rest. During a fire which broke out in the bouse, Quixada saved the life of the young Jerome, as the boy had always been called, before attending to her safety. This solicitude, according to her biographer, dispelled her suspicion, and it probably suggested the real paternity of her husband’s ward. There is no doubt that the motherly care of this noble-hearted woman did much to foster the generous traits which were so characteristic of Don John of Austria.

The year after the retirement of Charles V. to the monastery at Juste, the faithful Quixada settled in a neighboring village with his family. Thus the emperor was able to see his boy without exciting suspicions as to their relationship. As Charles, who was now near the grave, had become deeply religious he was much pleased with the lad’s attention to his devotions, though these did not prevent Don John from indulging a more characteristically juvenile taste for robbing orchards. The aggrieved peasants pelted him with stones, and thus, as has been thought, gave the future hero of Lepanto his first lesson in war. An even more arduous as well as imposing experience now awaited him. Among the group of attendants at the obsequies of Charles V. was his trusty Quixada, who brought the boy with him to witness the ceremonies. As these lasted three days, during which Don John was obliged to remain standing, they must have been oppressively solemn to the light-hearted lad.

By a testamentary paper the emperor acknowledged his paternity of Don John, and commended him to the respect and consideration of his son Philip, his grandson Don Carlos, or whoever might be his successor to the throne. While expressing a desire that the boy should become a friar, he left him free to lead a secular life, and provided the means for supporting it with suitable dignity. Before Philip met his halfbrother, the wife of Quixada took the lad to a spectacle at Valladolid, where the regent Joanna could conveniently see him. This was Don John’s first visit to an auto da fé, that characteristic ceremony by which the Spaniards attested the sincerity of their religious belief. The sacred duty of destroying heretics thus impressed upon the lad, amid the throng of spectators of the sufferings of nobler victims than usually figured at the stake, was to bear evil fruit in his later life. At this auto da fé he was warmly greeted by his royal sister the regent, but she could not induce him to leave his “aunt” Magdalen for a seat under her stately canopy. The final touch to the romance of Don John’s youth was the recognition prepared for him by Philip II. and Quixada at a royal hunt, when the king rode up and embraced the astonished lad as a brother and the son of the Emperor Charles V.

These incidents of Don John’s early life explain the romantic and daring ambition of his later years. Having so strangely emerged from obscurity to prominence, the brilliant but low-born son of the emperor naturally longed to vindicate his claim to distinction by deeds worthy of his illustrious parentage. Treated almost as a royal infante, and educated at the University of Alcala with the ill-fated Don Carlos and the brilliant Alexander Farnese, he exhibited a fondness for chivalrous exploits which showed how little suited he was for the church, in which Philip, mindful of his father’s wishes, intended to place him. The king even asked Pope Pius IV. to make him a cardinal ; but the red hat, though promised, was never given to this aspirant for martial glory.

Leaving the university in his eighteenth year, and being refused permission by the king to join an expedition for the relief of Malta, which was then threatened by the forces of the Grand Turk Solyman the Magnificent, Don John pushed on to Barcelona, and was deterred from executing his purpose only by peremptory orders from Philip. But the warlike ambition of his brother had become so marked that in October, 1567, the king conferred upon him the important, office of general of the sea, as the commander-in-chief of the Spanish fleets was called. To guide the youth in his untried duties, the veteran Requesens, Grand Commander of Castile, was appointed his lieutenant. Philip s letter of advice to his brother was extremely characteristic. He set forth with tedious prolixity the commonplaces of decorous piety, which were the more endeared to him because he had found them so useful in masking his deceitful policy. The king was doubtless sincere in his praises of truth and justice and benevolence, though he had so often sacrificed these qualities in his dealings with heretics and rebels, who, on his theory of morals, were not entitled to the benefit of them.

Little was accomplished during Don John’s first naval expedition. His brilliant successes against the infidel were yet to come. The rebellion of the Moors in Granada soon gave him an opportunity of gratifying his military ardor under the banner of the cross. The lapse of nine centuries since the conquest of Spain by the Saracens had left their descendants at the mercy of their Christian enemies. It was, however, by slow degrees that the reconquest had been effected; and when all else had fallen, the little kingdom of Granada withstood the Spaniards for two hundred years before yielding to the legions of Ferdinand and Isabella. Not till the beginning of the year which gave Spain a new world did the banner of Castile and St. James float in triumph over the red towers of the Alhambra.

Unfortunately, the religious intolerance of Cardinal Ximenes prevented faith from being kept with the conquered infidels. They were forced to renounce their religion and to accept that of the victors. Charles V. was wise enough not to push the Moriscoes, as the Moors were now called, to extremities; but Philip II., seconding the policy of his priestly advisers, trampled on their national rights and usages. Maddened by persecution, the Moriscoes, whose skill ful industry had enriched the vales and hillsides of the south with an agriculture unrivaled in Europe for its rich variety, rose against their oppressors, upon whom they wreaked a murderous vengeance. In the grim fastnesses of the mountain range of the Alpuxarras, the Moriscoes long kept at bay the Spanish forces, which the procrastination of the king and the divided councils of his commanders had seriously weakened.

Though sent forward to crush the rebellion, Don John was obliged by Philip to remain inactive for months. He could undertake no important operation without the consent of his council of war, and disputes in this body had to be settled by the supreme council at Madrid. Despite these obstacles, which chafed the fiery spirit of the young crusader, he captured two important Moorish strongholds, and was thus soon enabled to dictate negotiations for peace. In this war Don John displayed a valor and skill worthy of a better cause, though the desperate resistance of the Moriscoes seems to have led him, on one occasion, to forget his usual humanity, and deny quarter to the prisoners who had fallen into the clutches of his maddened troops. He lost in this crusade the gallant Quixada, who had been his chief military adviser as well as his ever-faithful frjend. The removal of the Moriscoes from Granada, which foreshadowed that crowning act of religious intolerance and political folly, the exile of all Moors from Spain in the ensuing reign, completed Don John’s labors in that province. His desire for a wider and more independent field of action, becoming his imperial parentage, was soon to be gratified.

He left Granada for Madrid the last of November, 1570, in obedience to a summons from the king, who, with the two other chief members of the Holy League, had decided to confer upon the imperial bastard a command which he had long coveted. He was to lead the forces of Christendom against that redoubtable Turkish power which was battling to wrest Cyprus from the republic of Venice and to uphold its supremacy in the Mediterranean. A hundred and twenty-seven years had passed since the cannon of Mohammed II. had battered the walls of Constantinople, and secured for the Ottomans that foothold in Europe which had made them so powerful. Only four years had elapsed since the death of Solyman the Magnificent, who left Turkey at the height of its greatness. Hungary had yielded to his conquering scimitars, Ispahan was captured, and the fleets of Barbarossa had made him master of the Mediterranean. France was glad to ally herself to the mighty Sultan, whom even Philip II. feared, and who exacted tribute from the Shah of Persia, the Emperor of Germany, and the haughty republics of Genoa and Venice. The cruisers of the Commander of the Faithful compelled Christendom, from the Gulf of Trieste to the Straits of Dover, to add its contributions to the revenues which his vassals in India and Africa yielded to the successomr of Mahomet. By his wise forecast, Solyman had accumulated great wealth ; and as he had a larger army than any other European sovereign, his cavalry alone numbering a hundred and thirty thousand, and his fleet of two hundred and fifty galleys and twelve heavy war ships being the largest in the world, he was naturally feared by the Christian powers. The fact that for the last thirty years of his reign he was engaged in no naval contest shows that his supremacy on the seas was unquestioned.

Fortunately for civilization, the sceptre of the wise Solyman was now held by the enervated, sensual Selim II., whose ambition for conquest was unaccompanied by warlike talents or political wisdom. Had it not been for the great ability of his Grand Vizier, the faithful Mahomet Sokolli, and the splendid resources of his vast empire, the reign of Selim would have been as disastrous as it was brief. The Grand Vizier had opposed the assault on Cyprus as likely to unite Christendom in defense of Venice, which had hitherto carefully avoided a rupture with the Turk; though to do this, while retaining a show of independence, had tasked the utmost skill of its subtle diplomatists. Sokolli advised his master, who was bent on war, not to interfere with the republic, but to weaken the house of Austria by aiding the Moriscoe rebellion in Granada. To assail an inveterate enemy was in his view much better policy than to attack a not unfriendly. neighbor. The principal Christian powers slighted the appeals of Venice for protection, on the ground that she had been an ally of the Turk, and had allowed him to triumph over the defenders of the faith. But the efforts of the indefatigable Pope Pius V. at last overcame the jealousy of the leading Catholic nations, and a Holy League was formed in May, 1571, between Spain, the Papacy, and Venice.

Meantime, however, nearly all Cyprus had been conquered by the Turks, and operations against them were prevented by disputes between the commanders of the Roman, Venetian, and Spanish squadrons, which had combined for the relief of the island. In her distress, Venice sued for peace with the Sultan, and it was his demand for the cession of Cyprus which forced her into the Holy League. Don John’s appointment as commander-in-chief was a tribute both to the superior resources of Spain and the military reputation of its young general.

There was now urgent need for immediate action by the allied forces, for the Turks were fiercely besieging Famugosta, the last stronghold in Cyprus held by the Venetians. But Don John’s departure from Spain was delayed by elaborate receptions and religious ceremonies; and on the way to Messina he stopped at Genoa, where he was welcomed by the Doge and the Senate, and was sumptuously entertained in the superb Doria palace. He also remained ten days at Naples, where he received from Cardinal Granvelle, the viceroy, the great banner of the Holy League, which was of blue damask, emblazoned with an image of the crucified Redeemer above the arms of the Pope, of Spain, and of Venice, and the escutcheon of Don John. This gorgeous ensign of the faith was presented to the young commander with solemn religious pomp, and the blessing of heaven was invoked on the cause which he was to champion against the infidel.

At Messina, where the forces of the League were assembling for their great expedition, Don John had a magnificent reception on his arrival, August 23, 1571. The harbor was gay with richlycarved and gilded galleys, from which floated brilliant streamers and ensigns. But amid the pomp of preparation there were grave disputes and misgivings in the allied councils. Most of Don John’s Spanish advisers tried to impress him with a sense of the inferiority of his forces to those of the Turk, and great stress was laid on the untrustworthiness of the Venetians. Old Veniero, the admiral of the republic, whose possessions in the Adriatic were at the mercy of the enemy, was eager for battle, but his galleys proved to be so poorly manned that they had to be reinforced with Spanish troops. Don John prudently waited till his entire armament had arrived before deciding to seek out the enemy. Being sustained by the papal admiral Colonna, lieutenant of the League, as well as by the impetuous Veniero, he overcame the cautious counsels of the Genoese admiral Doria, and of La Corgnia, the Venetian, who commanded the land forces. Boldness was now the highest wisdom; for part of the Turkish fleet was besieging Cyprus, and delay might renew the discords which had hitherto hampered the allies, and leave their divided armaments at the mercy of the Ottoman power. Don John’s worldly ambition and pious zeal were stimulated by the Pope, through his newly arrived nuncio, with assurances that the prophetic revelations of St. Isidore were to be fulfilled in his favor, and that he should also acquire an independent sovereignty.

On the 16th of September, 1571, the mighty armada, the most powerful that had ever floated in the Mediterranean, put to sea. The papal nuncio, who stood on the mole arrayed in full pontificals, blessed each vessel as it passed. Rough weather delayed the progress of the fleet along the Calabrian coast, and not till its arrival at Corfu was information as to the strength and position of the enemy obtained. Two Venetian officers lately ransomed from the Turks declared that Ali Pasha, with a large but poorly manned fleet, had sailed for the Gulf of Lepanto. This news made Don John eager to give battle to the Turkish admiral before he could be joined by the squadron from Cyprus, His views again prevailed, in the council of war, over those of Doria and others, who thought it safer to lure the Turks away from their own shores by attacking Navarino, or some other of their possessions.

Before long Don John had trouble with the hot-headed Veniero, who, after quarreling with John Andrew Doria, hanged some Italian officers in the Spanish forces who were serving on one of his galleys. This outrage so incensed the commander-in-chief that he threatened to place Veniero under arrest. As this act would have endangered the safety of the fleet, he was fortunately dissuaded from it; but he insisted that the fiery Venetian admiral should absent himself from the council board in favor of the provveditore Barbarigo. While off Cephalonia, Don John heard the sad news of the capture of Famagosta and the treacherous cruelty of Mustapha, the Moslem chief, in ruthlessly slaughtering a number of Venetian officers, and flaying alive Bragadino, the gallant captain of the town, whose skin, after being stuffed with straw and borne through the streets, was carried to Constantinople, hanging on the yardarm of a galley. These outrages and the permanent loss of Cyprus were due to the jealousies of the Christian powers, which had neglected to relieve its gallant defenders.

Soon after daybreak, on Sunday, the 7ih of October, 1571, the great fleet of the Holy League entered the Gulf of Lepanto, the ancient Gulf of Corinth. The left wing, consisting of sixty-three galleys, was commanded by the Venetian commissary Barbarigo. The centre, also numbering sixty-three galleys, was led by Don John of Austria, in his flagship the Real, a galley of great size and strength, conspicuous by its lofty stern, which was richly decorated with historical emblems and devices. Supporting Don John on the right was the papal admiral Marc Antonio Colonna, and on the left was the Venetian captain general Sebastian Veniero. In the right wing were sixty-four galleys, commanded by the noted Genoese John Andrew Doria. The Marquis of Santa Cruz brought up the rear with the reserve squadron of thirty-five galleys. Two galliasses were in each of the three divisions. The entire fleet numbered three hundred and sixteen vessels, and had on board eighty thousand men.

From the maintop of the Real the Ottoman fleet was soon seen sweeping down in a vast crescent, spanning the gulf. Don John now ordered an ensign to be displayed at the peak, the great standard of the League to be unfurled from the maintop, and a signal gun to be fired. He had caused the sharp peaks or spurs of the galleys to be cut off to afford more room for the play of his forward guns, and stout nettings had been placed over the bulwarks to prevent boarding. Even at this late hour the advocates of delay warned Don John of the danger he ran in breasting the Turk so near his harbor; but he replied resolutely, “ Gentlemen, the time for counsel is past, and the time for fighting has come.”

When Ali Pasha, the Turkish admiral, saw that the Christian fleet was advancing upon him in a straight line, he changed the crescent shape of his armament to the same order. He was surprised at the numbers and strength of the enemy, having been led to believe by his emissaries that the squadron of the Marquis of Santa Cruz had not joined their fleet, and that he should be spared an encounter with the galliasses of Venice. Pertau Pasha, commander of the land forces, advised his chief to evade the conflict; but the gallant Ali had lately received peremptory orders from Sultan Selim, who was flushed with the success of his arms at Cyprus, to lose no time in capturing the allied fleet and bringing it to the Golden Horn. Ali was a humane as well as gallant officer, and he now appealed to the Christian slaves who rowed his galley, above which floated the famous green banner brought from Mahomet’s tomb at Mecca, to do by him as he had done by them. “ If I win the battle,” he added, “ I promise you your liberty ; if your countrymen win, Allah will give it to you.”

While the Turks advanced to the conflict with fierce shouts and cries, the allies knelt in prayer before the bands struck up their martial strains. The gayly painted prows of the Moslem galleys were overhung by many-colored streamers and pennons, while the great plumes and jeweled crests of the janissaries and the gilded bows and muslin tunics of the archers set off the swarthy faces of the turbaned infidels, who furnished a striking contrast to the serried ranks of the Christians, with their shining array of helmets and corselets of polished steel.

The Turkish admiral was in the centre of his line, with ninety—six galleys. On his right, commanding fifty-six galleys, was Mahomet Sirocco, pasha of Alexandria; while Uluch Ali, viceroy of Algiers, the renegade Calabrian, who had become so famed as a corsair, led the left wing, with ninety-three galleys. Fortunately for the allies, the wind, which had been adverse to them, shifted, and aided their onset. Although the Turkish cannon first opened fire, the great guns of the galliasses, which had been placed in front of the Christian line, checked the advance of the foe. Seeing this, Ali Pasha ordered his galleys to run by these destructive monsters. This movement caused confusion in the Turkish line. In his attempt to elude the galliasses and turn the left wing of the allies, Mahomet Sirocco was confronted by the noble Venetian, Barbarigo, who had placed his vessels as near the coast as he thought safe. But the pilots of Sirocco, knowing the shoals, dashed by with their galleys. Barbarigo, thus surrounded by superior forces, was in desperate straits, and while urging on his men was pierced in the eye by an arrow. He was removed to his cabin, and died three days afterward. But the maddened Venetians now fought with such fury that they drove back Sirocco with great slaughter.

The fortunes of the day centred in the combat between the chiefs of the hostile armadas, who were both bent on the encounter. As the two great galleys closed, the shock of the onset shook their timbers, and the lofty prow of the pasha reached the rigging of his antagonist, above the fourth bench of rowers. Both vessels were strongly armed, but the guns of the Real were the most skillfully served. The cutting away of his peak gave Don John the advantage of bringing his forward battery to bear, while the netting on his bulwarks kept off boarders. Each vessel had tenders with reinforcements, to supply the waste caused by the artillery. The Turkish arrows were moderately effective ; the pasha himself, who, as Sir William Sterling-Maxwell remarks, was probably the last commander-in-chief who ever drew a bowstring in European battle, using these weapons skillfully. But the superiority of the Christian gunnery told on the infidels, and the Spanish boarding parties, though twice driven back from the pasha’s deck, at last pressed his janissaries very closely, and Ali soon fell, struck by an arquebus ball. A Spanish soldier at once cut off his head, and carried it to Don John, who, horrified at the sight, exclaimed, “ Of what use can such a present be to me ? ” and ordered it to be thrown into the sea. But, instead, it was raised on a pike, to the dismay of the Turks, who seemed to lose all heart for defending their flagship after their leader’s death. The sacred standard of the prophet was hauled down, and a flag with a cross was run up, amid shouts of “ Victory!” throughout the Christian fleet.

Meantime, Colonna and Veniero had efficiently sustained the commander-inchief. The veteran Venetian admiral, though seventy-six years of age, fought with youthful ardor and gallantry : not only repelling boarders from his flagship, but pursuing them to the deck of Pertau Pasha’s galley, on which he was wounded. The Grand Commander Requesens, who had aided Don John by pouring fresh troops into his flagship from two galleys winch he kept astern, captured, after a desperate contest, a noble galley bearing two young sons of the Turkish admiral, one of whom was a nephew of Sultan Selim. Alexander Farnese, the youthful Prince of Parma, who was destined to the highest honors in statesmanship and war, showed his reckless daring by boarding one of the enemy’s galleys, and hewing his way through the ranks of its defenders with but a single follower.

On the extreme right of the Christian fleet, Uluch Ali, the Algerine corsair, breasting the left wing of the allies, commanded by John Andrew Doria, attempted the manæuvre which Sirocco had used against Barbarigo. The watchful Genoese defeated this effort to pass between him and the shore, but thus extended his line so far that an opening was left by some of the slower galleys. Quickly seizing his advantage, Uluch Ali dashed through the gap with seven of his galleys, and fell upon the little Maltese squadron under the command of the Prior Giustiniani. This he captured, in spite of the desperate resistance of the Knights, who were weakened by their hard-fought triumphs. The corpses of three hundred Algerines upon the deck showed how well the prior’s ship had been defended. But while bearing off this galley, with its brave commander, who had been pierced by five arrows, and two wounded companions, the only other survivors of the conflict, Uluch Ali was startled by the approach of the Marquis of Santa Cruz with the Christian reserves. That skillful officer had helped Don John to beat off the galleys which had attacked him while battling with the Turkish flagship, and was now ready for this new emergency. To avoid the clutches of Santa Cruz, the corsair abandoned his prize, taking with him as a trophy the whitecross banner of the Knights of St. John.

Meanwhile, the Algerine galleys left behind with the Turkish left wing by Uluch Ali, when he dashed through Doria’s lines, had imperiled the safety of the Christian right by their fierce attacks. Fortunately, Don John of Austria, having become master of his position in the centre, pushed forward to the relief of his comrades. In avoiding his onset, sixteen of the Algerine galleys attempted to reach the rear of the Christian lines ; but they were intercepted by Cardona, the commander of the Sicilian squadron, who had previously aided in driving Pertau Pasha from his galley in the rear of the Turkish centre. Though Cardona had only eight galleys, he swept everything before him ; but the shattered defenses of his galley and the disabled condition of his soldiers showed that the victory which cost him his life was indeed dearly bought.

Although the battle of Lepanto lasted less than five hours, the defeat of the Turks was overwhelming. Their fleet was almost wholly destroyed ; nearly twenty-five thousand of their best soldiers were killed, while the allies lost less than eight thousand men. Uluch Ali and Pertau Pasha were the only Ottoman chiefs who escaped death or capture; the League lost twenty captains and officers of rank. One of the most gratifying results of the battle was the release of twelve thousand Christian captives from slavery at the oar.

The victory broke the spell of Ottoman supremacy; and though disputes among the allies prevented it from being followed up by the capture of any port, it overthrew, as Ranke has pointed out, the confidence of the Turks in their prowess. The superiority of the galleys and artillery of the Christians was the triumph of civilization over an essentially barbarous power, whose use of bows and arrows was naturally accompanied by inferior skill with firearms. Don John’s able dispositions, and above all, his energy and devotion, inspired the zealous confederates with the enthusiasm necessary for success. Even the cold Philip cordially acknowledged the splendid services of his brother, and the exulting Pope exclaimed in the words of the evangelist, “ There was a man sent from God, and his name was John ! ” Veniero, Colonna, Santa Cruz, Requesens, who so efficiently aided their chief, were richly though unequally rewarded ; but none of that brilliant company dreamed that a common soldier in the fleet was destined to eclipse their fame, and by a weapon more potent than the sword. Amid the carnage of Lepanto, no man did his duty more faithfully than Cervantes, who received a wound which disabled his left hand for life.

The generosity displayed by Don John, after the battle, in dividing his share of the rich booty among the captors ; his kindness to the choleric Veniero ; his consideration for the captive sons of the Turkish admiral, whose release he secured without ransom ; his devotion to the sick and wounded, to whom he presented the thirty thousand crowns voted to him by the city of Messina, were very characteristic. Not less so was his restless ambition, which chafed under the inaction in which he was kept by the mutual jealousies of the members of the League till September, 1572, when, after vainly tempting Uluch Ali to give him battle, he blockaded the great fleet of the crafty corsair in the fortified harbor of Modon. The death of Pope Pius V., in the previous May, foreshadowed the dissolution of the alliance of which he had been the soul, and it received its death-blow by the treaty of peace which Venice concluded with the Porte on the 7th of March, 1573. The intrigues of the Grand Vizier Sokolli restrained Charles IX. of France and the Emperor Maximilian from joining the League ; and French diplomacy at last influenced Venice to arrange that prudent though dishonorable peace, of which Voltaire said that it showed that the Turks had won the battle of Lepanto.

Don John’s expedition to Tunis in the autumn of 1573 resulted in the reestablishment of the Spanish protectorate over the Moorish princes who had been expelled by the Turks. But the conquest was too easy to be gratifying, and when Uluch Ali retook the forts, in the following year. Philip II. forbade his brother to risk his life by accompanying another Tunisian expedition. In Italy, where Don John remained till the winter of 1576, engaged in furthering the king’s abortive schemes for the recovery of Tunis, and in aiding to restore order in the republic of Genoa, he had only the shadows of romantic achievement—easy conquests in love and tournaments—to console him for being obliged to forego his ambition for an independent sovereignty. The acute Venetian ambassador Lippomano, who was accredited to Don John at this time, describes him as very handsome and graceful in person, sumptuous in dress, aud unwearied in military sports and exercises. “ His excellency,” adds the diplomatist, “ is wise and very prudent, eloquent, wary, and dexterous in business, knowing well how to dissemble and to use courtesy and caresses to all kinds of persons. With me he has ever employed the most honorable expressions.”

While at Naples, in the spring of 1576, Don John of Austria received an appointment which was to have an important influence on his future life. The sudden death of the Grand Commander Requesens having left the Netherlands without a governor, the king selected the popular son of the Emperor Charles V. as the person best fitted to maintain the royal authority and the Catholic religion in the distracted provinces. He had also favored the suggestion of the Pope that Don John should conquer England, liberate Mary, Queen of Scots, and place her as his bride upon the throne of the heretical Elizabeth.

After returning to Spain and receiving his instructions from the king, Don John hastened through France, disguised as a Moorish slave of his friend Ottavio Gonzaga, and arrived in the Netherlands November 3, 1576. It was a gloomy period for his mission. The Catholic provinces which had hitherto sustained the royal cause were about combining with the rebellious Hollanders and Zealanders in defense of their liberties. The outrages of the mutinous Spanish troops, followed by the sack of Antwerp under circumstances of unparalleled barbarity, united the Netherlands against their oppressors. This union was guaranteed by the celebrated treaty called the Pacification of Ghent, November 8, 1576. Don John now entered upon the two years of struggle and disappointment which ended in his discomfiture and death. He had to contend with the intrigues of the ambitious Flemish nobles, the distrust of the people, the opposition of France and England, the jealousy of the king, excited by Antonio Perez, his chief secretary, and above all with the consummate statecraft of William of Orange. Netherland scholars, like Groen van Prinsterer and Gachard, have clearly shown that the patriot prince persistently misrepresented the policy of the new governor, and thus compelled him to acts which made reconciliation impossible. As Mr. Motley did not do justice to Don John’s character and aims, it is well that Sir William Stirling-Maxwell has given an impartial judgment of them.

At last the unhappy governor, after vainly attempting to pacify the provinces, was forced into open war ; and though he gained one victory, the neglect of Philip to provide means for supporting his suffering troops prevented him from making headway against the rebellious Netherlanders. In the midst of the trials of the sensitive, high-spirited soldier, death came to his relief on the 1st of October, 1578. The gloom of his last hours was in striking contrast with the splendors of his earlier years. The conqueror of Lepanto died in a wretched hovel, and his remains, after lying in state, were transported through France in three bags hung at the pommels of troopers. Strada’s story that the body of the dead warrior was arrayed as in life and supported by a military staff, to receive Philip’s greeting, though a stroke of fancy, is in keeping with the strange eventful experience of the romantic hero who found his last resting place in the palace of the Escorial near his imperial father.

Don John’s career in the Netherlands was marked by a fidelity to duty which increases our respect for his character. As a Spaniard and a Catholic, he could not appreciate the value of civil and religious liberty, but he was far above most of his countrymen in his devotion to honor, justice, and humanity. His vices were those of the political and social system under which he had been brought up ; his virtues were his own. He was a soldier, not a statesman ; the spirit of chivalry and a heroic fire glowed in his breast. Few men who die as he did, at the age of thirty-one, have figured as brilliantly in history; and fewer have been more faithful to their cherished ideals of character and life.

Alexander Young.