Grandmaster Villiers de L'Isle-Adam, Cardinal Wolsey and Henry VIII meet up

Crac des Chevaliers

In 1142 Crac des Chevaliers, a Crusader castle in Syria was built by the Knights Hospitaller.  The Order of St John was founded around 1023 to provide care for sick, poor or injured pilgrims coming to the Holy Land.  The recent war in Syria has brought the conflict very close to this ancient and unique UNESCO World Heritage Site.  The Knights of St John have left their mark through much of this area and examples of their fortresses are also found in Rhodes and Malta.  Their history is a rich and varied tale.

some of the bastions at Rhodes

On the 15th June in 1522 Knights of St John defended their bastion on the island of Rhodes.  The Tower of the Virgin is surrounded by a polygon bastion and Suleiman the Sultan must have almost given up hope of ever taking this strategically vital part of the walled city. 

When the Turkish invasion force of 400 ships arrived on Rhodes on 26 June 1522, they were commanded by Çoban Mustafa Pasha. Sultan Suleiman himself arrived with the army of 100,000 men on 28 July to take personal charge.  An early description of Suleiman, a few weeks following his accession, is provided by the Venetian envoy Bartolomeo Contarini: "He is twenty-six years of age, tall, but wiry, and of a delicate complexion. His neck is a little too long, his face thin, and his nose aquiline. He has a shade of a moustache and a small beard; nevertheless he has a pleasant mien, though his skin tends to be a light pallor.”  By the time he reached Rhodes and the siege began, Suleiman was still only 28 years old.

"The Turks blockaded the harbour and bombarded the town with field artillery from the land side, followed by almost daily infantry attacks. They also sought to undermine the fortifications through tunnels and mines. The artillery fire was slow in inflicting serious damage to the massive walls, but after five weeks, on 4 September, two large gunpowder mines exploded under the bastion of England, causing a 12 yards (11 m) portion of the wall to fall and to fill the moat. The attackers immediately assaulted this breach and soon gained control of it, but a counterattack by the English brothers under Fra' Nicholas Hussey and Grand Master Villiers de L'Isle-Adam succeeded in driving them back again. Twice more the Turks assaulted the breach that day, but each time the English brothers, aided by German brothers, held the gap. " It is important to note here that the Grandmaster Villiers de L’Isle-Adam was fifty eight years old during this battle.

During these assaults the Ottomans lost over 2000 men and Mustafa himself had to be rescued by his own men as they fled the bitter conflict. The siege of Rhodes involved 600 knights and 4500 soldiers who resisted the invasion force of the Ottoman’s immense force of 100,000 men for six months. When the island was eventually defeated the grandmaster and remaining knights were allowed to leave the island with their weapons and valuables. Guarantees were given that no church would be desecrated or turned into a mosque and any individuals who decided to remain on the island would be free of Ottoman taxation for five years. On the first of January 1523 Grand Master Villiers de L'Isle-Adam and his Knights marched out of Rhodes and took 50 ships with them.  During this siege half of the invasion force had been vanquished. The Sultan was quoted as saying as he watched the elderly Grand Master Villiers de L'Isle-Adam leave with his knights “It gives me no pleasure to force this fearless old man from his home”. 

Grand Master Villiers de L'Isle-Adam

Grand Master Villiers de L'Isle-Adam spent seven more years wondering from place to place facing political intrigue, plagues, division and infighting among his own knights and was heard to proclaim “I am miserable weary and breathless old man and after so many efforts spent in vain may prove to be the last grandmaster!” at this he broke down in tears and could not go on. The determination that the grandmaster showed in subsequent years demonstrated his clear vision to find a new centre for the Knights of St John. Grand Master Villiers de L'Isle-Adam had long called for support and supplies for Rhodes knowing invasion troops were on their way.  It was said that on the very day that Rhodes succumbed to attack, part of the architecture of the Pope's Chapel, in Rome, fell down and a piece of marble killed the guard walking just in front of the the Pope. It was taken by many as a sign of the wrath of God especially by the knights who defended Rhodes so valiantly and felt that support for them in their endeavour had been lacking from many in power throughout Europe. 

Many times Grand Master Villiers de L'Isle-Adam spoke to his Knights to try and unite them while they wandered from location to location after losing the island of Rhodes. On one memorable occasion the whole multitude had their eyes fixed “on the venerable old man whose constancy and resolution made him as illustrious under his misfortunes as his bravery in the defence of Rhodes had made him glorious”. In his talks he strove to knit together the divided and dispirited knights. In order to obtain permission to move the Knights of St John to Malta and Gozo the grandmaster had to win the support of many of the kings of Europe and indeed Pope Clement VII. In addition to dealing with royalty like Charles V and the king of France, who were at war with one another, he had to convince competing sides that his order deserved support. In these confusing times Pope Clement VII was actually held in prison for six months by Charles V. It was the dictates of those days that Popes had to be clean-shaven but during the six months of his imprisonment Pope Clement VII grew a long beard which he kept for the remainder of his life to signal his despair at his imprisonment and the destruction of Rome. Not only did he kept his beard until his death but the next 24 popes all grew a beards as well! 

Pope Clement VII

After meeting with royalty of Portugal, Spain, Frances and the pope  Grand Master Villiers de L'Isle-Adam set off to England to meet with Henry VIII and Cardinal Wolsey. By now the grandmaster was 66 years old and considered a venerable old man who had fought a glorious battle. His reputation was known to all throughout Europe. In 1529 he travelled to England and met with Henry VIII (38 years old). Henry VIII was proud and arrogant and at 6 foot 2 inches cut an impressive figure but despite his passion for competitions and hunting he was unused to real battles and hardship. 

Cardinal Wolsey (56 years old) dressed like a king, ate like a horse and drank like a fish. 

In his household Wolsey had 500 servants. He was known for his intelligence and avarice.  He had graduated from Oxford at the age of just fifteen. Within a year of this meeting with the Grandmaster Wolsey would be dead with all his great power seized from him by Henry VIII because of his inability to provide his King with the divorce he wanted from Catherine of Aragon. 

It was in this environment  of greed and power and riches that the Grand Master Villiers de L'Isle-Adam had to navigate.  Here was a Cardinal of the church Wolsey, with his immense riches and illegitimate children and on the other hand Henry VIII who would marry so many women and make a habit of beheading a few. As the elderly Grand Master Villiers de L'Isle-Adam  who had taken not only a vow of poverty,celibacy and obedience approached King Henry VII’s court they went out and greeted the old warrior with great pomp and ceremony. King Henry went out of his way to show favour to the elderly hero and the Grandmaster’s presence had a real impact on the court. He made a huge impression on those present, as he had on the pope and others and through his determination a centre for the knights would be created in Malta on 26 October 1530.  Within a few years the grandmaster died at a convent in Rabat on Malta on 21 August 1534 with his mission complete. The room in which he died has been preserved along with his belongings in a simple manner befitting the dignity and simplicity of this unusually fearless character.  

Grand Master Villiers de L'Isle-Adam's room, Rabat

"The two most powerful warriors are patience and time."

Leo Tolstoy

The Inner Critic just has to go!

I have a voice inside my head. A vicious critic who has only negative comments to contribute. In every situation it considers only the worst possible overcome. I used to tell myself this voice had a role. It prepared one for the unseen or unexpected. When or if a disaster happened at least I'd had a ‘heads up’ in advance. Then, this last trip to Northern Ireland I talked with a loved one and came to the conclusion this voice needs excised. Part of that process incorporates understanding where this voice came from. 

I think I've tracked it back to childhood. The moment I arrived in the in the isolated Sperrin mountains of Northern Ireland fresh from Sydney, Australia. It didn't help having a distinctly Australian accent. Nor did being introduced to a fifth year primary class who had been together since kindergarten. Cliques had already formed and alliances and friendships were cemented. There was I, as odd as you please. By the end of my first day at school blood had been drawn. I felt different in almost every way from the children around me and the voice articulated clearly that I was an outsider. Every time I failed to make a friend, join a game in the playground or sat alone at lunchtime, I heard it's rancid observations. “You'll never fit in”. “They don't like you.” “Don't you get it?” “They don't want you here!” ”Stupid, stupid why did you think you could fit in?” Even when things went okay the voice prepared me. “Okay, sure, it's fine this morning, just you wait until break time then things are going to really kick off.” 

Was it really how I thought about myself? Or some defensive reaction to cope with the new challenging environment? I'm not sure but even now in my 50s when someone compliments me in any shape or form I look at them to see if they are joking. Searching for the truth not this false missive. It is as if believing something nice about yourself would be the biggest flaw. Why do I need to excise this longtime companion in my thoughts? 

When we let such a negative voices  dominate we damage not only ourselves but those closest to us. They learn our habits and it's a fact of life the very worst characteristics to cope with are your own unique flaws. We can stand all kind of idiosyncrasies in others but not our own. Secondly, the negative backdrop to life drains energy. When we are happy our strengths come to the fore. Negativity does the opposite. Hard things become harder. And even simple tasks become draining. I've reached that age where I can no longer afford this brutal observer. They have to go! Ageing makes even mundane tasks trickier  so I certainly have no need of this disabling critic. Thirdly, I'm tired of the struggle. There is an growing awareness that other positive forces will come into play if I can only disentangle this intruder of mine. I know when it made an appearance. Understand why it felt protective in some ways but now I recognise its toxic influence and want change. How does one change the habit of a lifetime? Like how you change any other habit. One day at a time, with determination and the knowledge that one has been stuck in this harmful mode too long. When I re-read my writing so much of it is riddled with my inner critic. So I'm not sure if when excised totally, I will even be able to put pen to paper! In any event I shall need to find a new voice. One hopefully that is a good deal kinder and more gentle.  Watch this space!

Perhaps our negative voices act as really dark sunglasses changing the actual landscape around us. Instead of vibrant colours we see a poor shadowy image. This ultimately affects our brain which quickly and efficiently recalibrates the world into darker tones. We even forget that it could be different. We gradually own this darkened world and navigate within its limited hues.  Missing out on the kaleidoscope of colours we are bemused by those who see things differently. Their descriptions bewilder us and cause us to question their grasp on reality. When a pessimist listens to an optimist they can feel annoyance at the naïveté displayed. Their mindset repels at this alternative slant on reality. I'm beginning to suspect having a negative voice inside your head, like the sunglasses changes our view of everything within this world. The resulting impact on the brain restricts the actual wavelengths that should be picked up but aren't. Seeing is believing after a certain time. For example, if we wear glasses that invert our vision after a number of days the brain will recalibrate what we see and make the appropriate correction. In other words it turns everything the right way up again. 

Just as our eyesight deteriorates with age so does our ability to hear. In a study on Malta, one of my students science projects involved playing beats of increasing frequency. I was most perturbed when all the 17-year-old went on nodding that they could hear beats when all I heard was silence. We lose so many frequencies every year of our lives. Perhaps this parallels a spiritual truth. The young see and hear better. They have the capacity like young plants to adapt the environment quickly when older branches need the fire of test to alter them. If, as we age we become increasingly incapable of seeing and likewise restricted in our hearing then no wonder changing patterns of ingrained behaviour becomes much harder! But with focus and reflection we can make changes.  It is comforting to know this effect has a name, Perceptual adaptation.

Here’s an exercise to show how powerful it is. Click on the link. First you will see lilac circles moving but then focus on the cross in the middle you should be able to then see the green shape!

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perceptual_adaptation#/media/File:Lilac-Chaser.gif

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” 

― Rumi

All happiness or unhappiness solely depends upon the quality of the object to which we are attached

I envy the young their sociability. Here in the shopping mall, they roam in herds chattering, pushing and laughing. At ease with their peers around them. Adults tend to be loan wolves or couples. Like the pair sitting beside me at the table with their Marks & Spencer's cups of coffee in front of them. 

Although sitting opposite he has his chair carefully positioned away from his wife. Occasionally, he points out someone passing and with a snigger nods at his wife. She is ripping a napkin into tiny minuscule pieces of confetti. Not in a random angry way but with slow methodical tidy strips equally broad and then dissecting these into smaller and smaller pieces. Folding carefully then tearing in half then folding again until her side of the table is covered in this patient display of inner turmoil while the husband carefully ignores her paperwork. 

He points out an obese woman waddling past and speaks a quick photo of her with his iPhone before nodding to his wife “Got her”, “I’ll add that to the collection”! She dips her head in acknowledgement of his smartness and then rips with violence the tender tissue between her fingers. She looks placid and contained. All her agitation focused in one monumental craft pursuit. He swings his coffee down and stares around. There is less to see. The shopping centre has emptied. His wife has completed her task. The array of equally sized tiny squares cover her side of the table. She takes them and one by one pushes them through the slit in her empty plastic coffee cup lid. Sometimes she needs to use the stick stirrer to push reluctant one through, but her fingers are fine and nimble. This is obviously a much practised art. It's harder for him to ignore her actions. There is less to take his attention. 

He glances down at her pile of little papers and says, “For shit’s sake, Beth”! In those muttered few words there is so much hatred and loathing. She sits back in her chair as if struck and drops the tiny squares, hands by her side she sits awkwardly before the table scanning all the confetti. Unable to put away her work. Yet captive before it, arms yearning to place them all into the calling slot. She fidgets restless and discontent, fingers scratching at her nail beds on opposite hands pulling, pushing digging. He spots the frantic activity and raises an inquisitive eyebrow mouth turned down in tight disapproval. She grips the arm rest of the plastic chair and with obvious effort is still at last. The concentration required has created a tense expectancy that radiates from her. I cannot take the atmosphere and beat a hasty retreat. Spinoza knew a thing or two when he said...

“All happiness or unhappiness solely depends upon the quality of the object to which we are attached by love. “                                                  

Baruch Spinoza