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and, other soldiers having come to his support, captured the vessel. Many other such deeds are related by Señor Rosell, deeds worthy, as he truly says, of the heroic days of ancient Greece. The sea was literally reddened with blood, and was covered for miles with human limbs and disfigured corpses, with clothes, fragments of galleys, planks, oars, arms, and masts. The storm broke forth in its fury, and the flames of Turkish galleys, set on fire because they were too much damaged to be of service, lit up the terrible scene - appropriate illuminations in honour of so signal a triumph. Night came on, and the allied fleet sought shelter in the adjacent port of Petala.

The trophies of this victory were, first, the two sons of Aali Pasha, one seventeen and the other thirteen years of age, whose father had brought them with him to accustom them to naval discipline and to the dangers of war. "It was a piteous spectacle," says Señor Rosell," to see the tears they shed on finding themselves orphans and captives." After the battle, Don John had them brought before him, and, embracing them, he deplored their hard fate and their father's death. He lodged them in his secretary's cabin, one of the best in his ship, ordered Turkish clothes to be bought for them, gave them shirts of his own, and treated them as if they were his brothers. "He then sent for Sebastian Veniero, and to show him that he harboured no resentment for past offences, he advanced to meet him as far as the ladder of his galley, embraced him most affectionately, and, calling him his father, extolled, as was just, his great valour, and could not finish what he would have said for the sobs and tears that choked him. The poor old man, who did not expect such a reception, wept also, and so did all who witnessed that scene." The armada of the League had lost twelve galleys; but 130 of the enemy's were taken and divided amongst the allies. It was calculated that eighty Turkish vessels were sunk. Of men, the loss of the allies amounted to 7600; namely, 2000 Spaniards-800 belong ing to the Pope's squadron, and the remainder Venetians. The loss of the enemy perhaps somewhat exaggerated-was said to be 25,000 dead,

and 5000 prisoners. More than 12,000 slaves, who rowed in the Turkish galleys, were that day liberated.

Don John remained four days in the port of Petala repairing damages, making arrangements for the care of the wounded, and taking counsel as to the best means of turning his victory to good account. Thence he sent Don Lope de Figueroa to Spain, with letters and despatches for the king his brother, and with Selim's standard, which had been taken from the enemy. He also sent despatches to the Pope, and to Venice, as did the generals Veniero and Colonna. Philip II. received the news without any sign of joy or surprise-imitating, in that respect, the calmness of his father on receiving intelligence of the victory of Pavia. He was at vespers at the time, and when the service was over, he directed the prior to have a Te Deum sung. On the following day he went to Madrid to offer up solemn thanksgivings for so great a blessing. At Venice the joy was extreme. Doge, senate, uobles, and people, all issued forth upon the square of St Mark, to rejoice and congratulate each other. The emotion of Pius V. was so great-although it is said that he had prophesied the victory-that he shed a flood of tears, and exclaimed, in the words of the evangelist, "There was a man sent from God, whose name was John," -a not very reverend application of the Gospel, but which, perhaps, was excusable in a pope, and on such an occasion. Few victories have been so variously celebrated, or acquired at the time so much fame for their winners, as that of Lepanto. Princes, prelates, and magnates vied with each other in their praises and congratulations; cities voted laurel crowns and rich presents to the illustrious conqueror; poets, sculptors, and painters, sung, carved, and painted memorials of the great fight, and of the valiant prince who gained it. The city of Messina, whose port Don John entered in triumph three weeks after the battle, presented him with thirty thousand crowns, which he distributed to the hospitals. Herrera, Rufo, Ercilla, and many other Spanish writers, composed poems in honour of the battle, and especially of the victorious chief. There were also poems written

in Latin, Portuguese, Catalan, and in the dialect of Majorca. In the royal Museo at Madrid are two valuable mosaic tables which were given by the Pope to Philip II. and to Don John of Austria. Upon that of the prince naval trophies are depicted. Messina raised a colossal bronze statue of Don John. In the Vatican are still to be seen paintings of the battle; others are to be found in churches in Andalusia; there is one in the naval museum at Madrid; and in the royal museum of the same capital is an allegorical picture representing the action, painted by Titian, at the age of ninety-four years. A long list might be made of the pictures, medals, and trophies which still exist to remind the world of the battle of Lepanto, and of its principal hero. At the end of his work, Señor Rosell gives, besides a small map of the action, engraved fac-similes of two medals in the numismatic museum of the Madrid National Library. The obverse of one of these displays the likeness of Pius V., that of the other the very handsome head of Don John of Austria. On the reverse of the latter medal is a full-length of the conqueror, standing on a pedestal, whilst Victory, a palm-branch in one hand, crowns him with laurel. In the area of the medal is a plan of the battle of Lepanto. Señor Rosell also gives a vignette engraving of Sebastian Veniero, after Tintoretto's portrait of him in the Madrid Gallery-a fine head, at once venerable and martial, but with a countenance expressing some of the irritability that characterised the valiant Venetian.

Selim II., when news reached him of his fleet's disaster, shut himself up in his room, and for three days would see nobody, and scarcely eat anything. On the fourth day his grand vizier was admitted to see him. It is said that Selim took the Koran, read two chapters, and shut the book; then, happening again to open it, he came upon the following verse: "In the name of the merciful and compassionate God, I suffer by reason of the victory of the Christians over the inhabitants of the earth; but they shall not have occasion to glorify themselves in future on account of their victory." These words, which, under

the circumstances, appeared prophetic, consoled and encouraged Selim; he abandoned the vice of drunkenness, which had given him a shameful reputation, and applied all his energies to the creation of fresh forces wherewith to avenge his reverse. He appointed Uluch Aali his high admiral, in place of the slain Aali Pasha; and, as a title of honour, made him change his name from Uluch to Kilich, which signifies sword. Thenceforward the renegade was the first man in the Turkish empire after the sultan. Early in the following spring he was again at sea, with a hundred and seventy galleys, besides other vessels; but he seems to have entertained a lively recollection of his defeat at Lepanto, for although he had more than one opportunity of bringing the Christians to battle, he avoided doing so.

On the 7th August 1572, the two fleets met, the Turkish vessels numerically much superior to those of the League, although the size of some of the latter made up the difference. But Uluch Aali shunned a conflict, and the same thing occurred on two subsequent occasions, the last being on the anniversary of Lepanto, when a battle appeared so imminent that the Hispano-Venetians, with Don John again at their head, made sure of renewing their triumph of the preceding year. But Uluch Aali, seeing his enemy bent upon attacking him, took refuge under the guns of the fortress of Modon. By the end of the year, the Turk was considered to have repaired all his losses, and to be even in a better state to take the field than he was before his terrible defeat. It was agreed to augment the forces of the confederates to three hundred galleys, and sixty thousand fighting men; but this was never done, for the Venetians, who for some time past had complained of the expense of the war, left the League, and made peace with the Porte upon disgraceful terms, Selim retaining all his conquests, and receiving back the castle of Sopoto, which had been taken from him during the war, receiving also one hundred thousand ducats a-year for three years. Don John would not credit this base desertion until it was confirmed to him by the Venetians themselves. Then he struck the

mits that the immediate and material
consequences of the battle of Lepanto
were insignificant, defends his hero
against the attacks of those who have
said of Don John, as it has been said
of Hannibal, that he knew how to
conquer, but not how to profit by his
victory; and of others who, like Vol-
taire, have maintained that the scanty
fruits of the battle made it almost
appear as if the Turks had been the
He alleges the damaged
condition of the armada of the League,
and the heavy loss of fighting men
it had suffered; he deems the plan of
an advance on Constantinople rash,
and hardly to be realised, since the
forces of the Porte were by no means
exhausted by the destruction of its
fleet, nor was the Grand Seignior so
defenceless that he would have had
at once to take to flight. At the same
time, he evidently has a lurking sus-
picion that, in the first moment of the
Turk's dismay, a dash might have
been successfully made at his capital,
to capture the galleys there in port,
and perhaps to set fire to the rich
arsenal of Constantinople. The best
plea in exculpation of Don John from
the charge of sluggishness after vic-
tory, is to be found in the fact that
his powers were limited. His cautious,
cold-blooded brother, who never stirred
in any business without long previous
reflection, feared that the ardour of
youth and thirst for glory might lead
him into imprudence, and it was his
will and order that he should always
act in conformity with the vote of the
generals of the armada, and other
experienced persons who were to form
Don John never knew
his council.
the king's exact motive for this pre-
cautionary measure; but he yielded
implicit obedience to the brother who
stood him instead of a father. After
his victory, he declared his wish to
follow it up by other exploits; but
the divisions in the council were
many, winter was near at hand, time
was lost, and nothing was done.
The real results of the battle of Le-
panto are perhaps best defined by
M. Poujoulat, in his Histoire de Con-
stantinople, where he says that, "from
that triumph, glorious to the Chris-
tians, may be dated the commence-
ment of the Turks' decline, because
it cost them not only men and ships—

standard of the League, and hoisted
that of Spain, itself, in those days, a
terror to its enemies. Lepanto had
been the League's first and last tri-
umph. Although, owing to various
circumstances, it was not followed
up, either immediately, as many think
it might advantageously have been,
or in the sterile year 1572, its import-
ance was immense. "What would
have been the fate of Europe," asks
Señor Rosell, in his interesting final
chapter, "if upon that day the armada
of the League had been destroyed
by the scimitars of the janizaries?
Master of Cyprus, Selim would quick-
ly have conquered Candia, his squad-
rons would have infested the gulfs of
the Mediterranean, and, aided by the
corsairs of Barbary, he would have
subjugated the whole of the Adriatic
and Tyrrhenian shores. Soon extend-
ing his empire from the Sea of Azov
to Corsica and the Balearic Isles, and
with Africa submitted to his will,
neither the Muscovite, as yet feeble,
nor Austria, hardly powerful enough
to retain Hungary, nor the Catholic
King himself, discouraged and weak-
ened by his defeat, would have sufficed
to check that torrent, when it pre-
cipitated itself from the mountains of
the North to unite with the impetuous
inundation of the South. It was not
the destiny of Europe again to groan
in the bonds of barbarous nations;
but the obstinate and bloody strife
would long have paralysed industry
and the arts, checking, and perhaps
frustrating, the development of its
genius, and the happy progress of its
conquests and institutions."

Don John of Austria has been blamed for not promptly following up his victory by another severe blow dealt at the Turkish power. Some writers, amongst others General San Miguel in his History of Philip II., have suggested the possibility that, if he had at once pushed on to Constantinople, that capital might have been conquered, the more so as its Christian inhabitants, and especially the numerous Genoese in the suburbs of Pera and Galata, were ready to rise against the Turks. Señor Rosell, who discusses ingeniously, and at considerable length, a question which the lapse of centuries has not yet stripped of all interest, and who ad

a loss easy to repair-but also that prestige which constitutes the chief power of conquering nations, a power but once acquired, and which, when lost, is never regained." Other writers have expressed the same opinion. "Turkey," says M. de Bonald, "never recovered the battle of Lepanto. She lost upon that day

the moral ascendancy that had been her strength for three centuries and a-half." If these opinions be accepted, it can hardly be said that the battle of Lepanto was not an immense benefit to Europe, or that Don John of Austria did not fairly and fully earn the lofty pedestal upon which he still stands in the temple of military fame.



["THE majority (of the council) pronounced against fighting, and Clive declared his concurrence with the majority. But scarcely had the meeting broken up than he was himself again. He retired alone under the shade of some trees, and passed near an hour there in thought. He came back determined to put everything to the hazard, and gave orders that all should be in readiness for passing the river on the morrow."-MACAULAY.]

BENEATH the thick old mango-trees the trunks are growing black;
The night-hawk screams a bolder note, and wheels a wider track;
Far to the right, all ghastly white, thick tents are dimly seen,
Barbaric music faintly wails, the river runs between ;
All blood-red on the western verge the skirts of twilight lie,
And two pale horns from the east go slowly up the sky.

Who walks at such an hour in the strange garb of the Frank,
And flings himself in gloomy guise on yonder grassy bank;
And mutters oft-" "Twere madness, sure, with such a force as ours,
To bide the brunt while yet the Moor unbroken holds his powers,
In hope to gain Moorshedabad or Patna's distant towers "?
Sore labours has that leader proved, but toil has worn him less

Than cares which weighed, and nigh dismayed, his soul with their distress.
For stronger is the chief to do, than steady to endure,

And till to-day the swift with him has ever been the sure.

But now is come a direr strait than e'er the little band

Have known since first their venturous feet have trod this foreign strand;
The blood-stained rake, the tiger-prince, that laid their city low,
And slew their best and bravest by a cold-blood coward's blow,—
He marches now with all his force, and boasts, in drunken glee,
To drive the pale-faced traders down before him to the sea;
And well may those stout strangers rest content his speed to stay,
Or trust to wait till cools his hate, or his armies melt away.

Now sinks the din from either camp, and not a sound is heard
Except the roar of hungry beast, or scream of prowling bird;

And CLIVE still lies extended; but no more he mutters now,
For sleep has sealed his weary eyes, and soothed his aching brow.
'Tis strange and sad to see that MAN of action in repose,

As sleeps the child, or mother mild, to outward sense he shows:
To sense he shows; but who can say if all be peace within,
Or if the frame's mute trance allow full scope to wrath and sin?
Ha! mark you not that clenching hand, that wild convulsive start;
And who but deems that angry dreams are surging at his heart?
The body sleeps, the spirit wakes; and in the unknown land
She visits then, she does what he could never understand.

Her jailor dull, he chains her down; but when his care grows slack,
Her flight she takes till he awakes, and quickly calls her back;
But what would it avail to tell of where her feet have been?
He could not understand her speech, or see what she has seen.
Sleep, warrior, sleep, the God of battles will have work for thee,
And well though thou canst toil at need, yet rested must thou be;
For, violent and bad, thou art JEHOVAH's servant still,

And e'en to thee a dream may be the angel of His will.

What changing cloud, what wreathing shapes float through that slumberer's breast!

What voices of vague augury, rejoicing or distrest!

While underneath and over all the tissue is of gore,

The crimson coat, the meteor flag, the hue of England's war,
The tiger-prince flies fast away, the far shout in his rear,

The echo falls on Delhi's walls, and rocky Jessulmere ;
The wild Mahratta hosts are broke, the proud Rohilla yields;
High kings are bending on their thrones, and peasants in their fields.

See WELLESLEY learn his deathless fight, see beams of glory take
The comely head of COMBERMERE, the gallant crest of LAKE,
The bayonet-push, the sabre-charge, through every realm of Ind,
From far Nepal to Cabul's heights and parks of sunny Sindh;
The red flood creeps from east to west, as goes the mighty sun
To where in disappointment turned the hosts of Macedon ;
From Martaban, from Comorin, to where Hydaspes flows,
Or holy Himalaya hoards her immemorial snows.
Sunlike it creeps; a flood of light, with blessings in its train;
The darkened land, the barren land, shall ne'er be so again.
O Western light! O light of blood! O hue of England's war!
He starts to life with a sudden bound, to speak of peace no more.
"Ho! call the chiefs; ho! bid the men to gather on the lawn,
Prepare the boats-in silence all-we cross before the dawn."
But those who heard the welcome word, still wondered that he said—
"Perplexed, I ween, my rest has been, but GOD is for the Red."

H. G. K.

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