Sieges

I’ve just finished reading The Kappillan of Malta by Nicholas Monsarrat.  

The book is set in World War Two and tells the story of a Maltese priest, Father Salvatore.  This unlikely hero finds himself responsible for the welfare of hundreds of people from Bormla and Isla who lose their homes during bombing raids and are forced to relocate to tunnels within the Cottonera lines, the outer defences that encircle the Three Cities.

I do not know if the tunnels described in the novel are real, but if fictional then the plot no doubt draws on the factual relocation of Cottonera residents that followed similar bombing raids.  In Birgu, many properties were destroyed within the city and local people who were unable to find accommodation further inland began to colonise the tunnels in the outer walls of the Birgu Foss(ditch or dry moat).

These tunnels are still accessible through the Malta at War Museum in the Couvre Port, but they also have exits into the Foss.  Indeed over time the occupants of the tunnels spilled out through these exits and erected lean-to structures against the walls.  Such was the slow pace of rebuilding and rehousing in Birgu in the late 1940s that this shanty town survived for many years after the end of World War Two.

As I have previously written, this period of Birgu’s history is often known as the Second Great Siege.  In today’s post, however I am focussing more on the original Great Siege, which came to a close at this time of year in 1565.

Whilst the Great Siege affected the whole of Malta in one way or another, the main target was the Knights of St. John, who had taken up residence in Birgu in 1530.  The besiegers were the Ottoman Turks:  indeed at the time the Great Siege was the latest act of warfare between the forces of Christianity and Islam, and its outcome was to shape the geopolitics of Europe until the collapse of the Ottoman Empire in the early twentieth century.

This long-standing conflict between Christians and Moslems began with the First Crusade in the late 1090s. What was then known as the Holy Land, and most importantly Jerusalem, had come under the control of expansionist Moslem leaders.  The First Crusade led to those territories being claimed by the Christian leaders of Western Europe, and ultimately the establishment of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem.

Integral to the Crusades were the Catholic military orders, the Knights of St. John and their better-known counterparts the Knights Templar.  In fact the Order of St. John predates the First Crusade by almost on hundred years.  It was founded in the early eleventh century as a hospitaller order, providing accommodation and healthcare to pilgrims to Jeruslaem.  During its first century, however, it became increasingly militarised, and by the time it was formally recognized by the Roman Catholic church, its members were seen simultaneously as warriors, monks, and healers.

The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem survived from 1099 to 1291, with only a five-year hiatus.  Eventually, however, the Christians were driven out of the Holy Land, and after a short nomadic existence the Knights of St. John took up residence in Rhodes.  They were headquartered there for almost two centuries, during which time they developed their prowess in maritime warfare. As Moslem forces spread westwards and tried to take control of the Mediterranean, it was the galleys of the Order of St John that held them back.

To cut a long story short, the Order was eventually evicted from Rhodes in 1522 by the Sultan of Turkey, Suleiman the Magnificent.  Suleiman was determined to remove the barrier to his empire’s expansion that the Knights represented, but he was so impressed by their bravery during his attacks on Rhodes that he allowed them to leave with full military honours and without being disarmed.  A second nomadic period followed until the Order was granted Malta by the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V of Spain, in return for an annual tribute of one Maltese falcon.  They  established their new headquarters at Fort St. Angelo.

From Malta, with its unparalleled strategic location, the Knights of Malta continued their control of the Mediterranean.  Suleiman was determined that Islam would become dominant in the known world, and his land campaigns had extended his empire as far as Hungary in the heart of central Europe, and across the north of Africa. However, earlier empires such as the Romans had shown that control of Western Europe depended on sea power, and without control of the Mediterranean Suleiman couldn’t hope to establish himself in Italy or southern France.

Suleiman’s determination to conquer and now eradicate the Order of St. John was matched by the anti-Moslem fanaticism of the leader of the Knights, Grand Master Jean Parisot de Valette.  The son of a noble family of Provence and 72 years old at the time of the Great Siege, de Valette had already had an illustrious career in the Order. He had fought against Suleiman at Rhodes and was later Governor of Tripoli.  He captained his own Galley and was eventually made Captain General of the Order’s fleet, an unusual honour as the post was usually awarded to an Italian Knight.  He had also served as a slave on a Turkish galley for a year, and by all accounts was not always even-tempered: he once served four months in a Gozo prison for attacking a man.

The odds during the Great Siege were stacked very heavily against the Order. Over 30,000 Ottomans attacked fewer than 650 Knights with only 8,000 volunteer troops from Italy and Sicily.  The number of Maltese auxiliaries was initially low as the Knights hadn’t made any friends amongst the indigenous population.  Soon, however, it became clear that the attack by the Turks risked taking away the Maltese way of life for everybody, particularly the freedom to practice the Catholic religion.  The defense of the islands was soon shared by Knights and Maltese fighting side by side.

Much has been written about the events of the Great Siege.  The unexpectedly long time it took for Fort St Elmo to fall to the Ottomans, giving the defenders of Birgu longer to strengthen their own fortifications.  De Valette leading the troops himself after the Post of Castille was temporarily breached.  The bravery of individual Maltese people, famously employing their swimming skills to relay messages between Birgu and Isla or Fort St Elmo.  Last but not least, the barbarity.  Dead Knights decapitated, crucified on rafts and floated across the Grand Harbour.  De Valette’s less than Christian response:  decapitating living Turkish prisoners and firing their severed heads across the Harbour into the enemy ranks.

Officially the Siege of Malta ended on 8^thSeptember, the day that the remaining Ottomans were either killed or driven from the island at St Paul’s Bay.  That day is now kept as a national holiday, Victory Day, or for the more religiously minded, the Feast of Our Lady of Victories.  As on Freedom Day, the day that the British finally left the Maltese islands, the occasion is marked by a regatta in the Grand Harbour, a tradition introduced by the Knights themselves.

In Birgu things are slightly different.  Here the siege was lifted the day before, on 7^thSeptember, and this is celebrated each year as Jum il-Birgu (Birgu Day).  Various activities are usually programmed.  Last year for example there was a trip to Gozo for elderly residents.  Of course, this year community activities are restricted by the coronavirus regulations and were limited to a Mass said in the Church of St. Lawrence on the eve of the day itself. Of course flags were still flown, and banners in the pjazza proclaimed Birgu’s honorary title of Citta Vittoriosa,the Victorious City.

There are many today who describe the recent restrictions as another siege, as if they are a re-run of the privations of the Second World War or the Great Siege.  When I read comments like these on social media, it never fails to astound me.  It seems totally inappropriate to compare the horrific acts of brutality endured (and committed) during these two cataclysmic events to what we are going through today.  How can anybody compare the relatively limited restrictions aimed at preserving the health of our communities that  have been imposed this year to sustained bombing campaigns that tore apart bodies, families and cities?

We have food and water.  We have our homes.  We are blessed with technology that allows us to maintain at least some contact with our friends and family.  Yes, its not life as we knew it, but please, let’s not demean the horrific experiences endured by the previous occupants of our city by implying that this is some Third Great Siege.  Because it is not.