hewn out of the living rock; there was a cross over the door, and before
it was a great spreading oak, with a sweet spring of water at its foot.
The body of the faithful servant who had fallen in the defence of his
lord, was buried close by the wall of this sacred retreat, and the
hermit promised to perform masses for the repose of his soul. Then
Pelayo obtained from the holy father consent that the merchant's wife
and daughter should pass the night within his cell; and the hermit made
beds of moss for them, and gave them his benediction; but the damsel
found little rest, so much were her thoughts occupied by the youthful
champion who had rescued her from death or dishonor.
Pelayo, however, was visited by no such wandering of the mind; but,
wrapping himself in his mantle, slept soundly by the fountain under the
tree. At midnight, when every thing was buried in deep repose, he was
awakened from his sleep and beheld the hermit before him, with the beams
of the moon shining upon his silver hair and beard.
"This is no time," said the latter, "to be sleeping; arise and listen to
my words, and hear of the great work for which thou art chosen!"
Then Pelayo arose and seated himself on a rock, and the hermit continued
his discourse.
"Behold," said he, "the ruin of Spain is at hand! It will be delivered
into the hands of strangers, and will become a prey to the spoiler. Its
children will be slain or carried into captivity; or such as may escape
these evils, will harbor with the beasts of the forest or the eagles of
the mountain. The thorn and bramble will spring up where now are seen
the cornfield, the vine, and the olive; and hungry wolves will roam in
place of peaceful flocks and herds. But thou, my son! tarry not thou
to see these things, for thou canst not prevent them. Depart on a
pilgrimage to the sepulchre of our blessed Lord in Palestine; purify
thyself by prayer; enroll thyself in the order of chivalry, and prepare
for the great work of the redemption of thy country; for to thee it will
be given to raise it from the depth of its affliction."
Pelayo would have inquired farther into the evils thus foretold, but the
hermit rebuked his curiosity.
"Seek not to know more," said he, "than heaven is pleased to reveal.
Clouds and darkness cover its designs, and prophecy is never permitted
to lift up but in part the veil that rests upon the future."
The hermit ceased to speak, and Pelayo laid himself down again to take
repose, but sleep was a stranger to his eyes.
When the first rays of the rising sun shone upon the tops of the
mountains, the travellers assembled round the fountain beneath the tree
and made their morning's repast. Then, having received the benediction
of the hermit, they departed in the freshness of the day, and descended
along the hollow defiles leading into the interior of Spain. The good
merchant was refreshed by sleep and by his morning's meal; and when he
beheld his wife and daughter thus secure by his side, and the hackney
laden with his treasure close behind him, his heart was light in his
bosom, and he carolled a chanson as he went, and the woodlands echoed to
his song. But Pelayo rode in silence, for he revolved in his mind the
portentous words of the hermit; and the daughter of the merchant ever
and anon stole looks at him full of tenderness and admiration, and deep
sighs betrayed the agitation of her bosom.
At length they came to the foot of the mountains, where the forests and
the rocks terminated, and an open and secure country lay before the
travellers. Here they halted, for their roads were widely different.
When they came to part, the merchant and his wife were loud in thanks
and benedictions, and the good burgher would fain have given Pelayo the
largest of his sacks of gold; but the young man put it aside with a
smile. "Silver and gold," said he, "need I not, but if I have deserved
aught at thy hands, give me thy prayers, for the prayers of a good man
are above all price."
In the mean time the daughter had spoken never a word. At length she
raised her eyes, which were filled with tears, and looked timidly at
Pelayo, and her bosom throbbed; and after a violent struggle between
strong affection and virgin modesty, her heart relieved itself by words.
"Senor," said she, "I know that I am unworthy of the notice of so noble
a cavalier; but suffer me to place this ring upon a finger of that hand
which has so bravely rescued us from death; and when you regard it, you
may consider it as a memorial of your own valor, and not of one who is
too humble to be remembered by you."
With these words, she drew a ring from her finger and put it upon the
finger of Pelayo; and having done this, she blushed and trembled at her
own boldness, and stood as one abashed, with her eyes cast down upon the
earth.
Pelayo was moved at the words of the simple maiden, and at the touch of
her fair hand, and at her beauty, as she stood thus trembling and in
tears before him; but as yet he knew nothing of woman, and his heart was
free from the snares of love. "Amiga," (friend,) said he, "I accept thy
present, and will wear it in remembrance of thy goodness;" so saying, he
kissed her on the cheek.
The damsel was cheered by these words, and hoped that she had awakened
some tenderness in his bosom; but it was no such thing, says the grave
old chronicler, for his heart was devoted to higher and more sacred
matters; yet certain it is, that he always guarded well that ring.
When they parted, Pelayo remained with his huntsmen on a cliff, watching
that no evil befell them, until they were far beyond the skirts of the
mountain; and the damsel often turned to look at him, until she could no
longer discern him, for the distance and the tears that dimmed her eyes.
And for that he had accepted her ring, says the ancient chronicler, she
considered herself wedded to him in her heart, and would never marry;
nor could she be brought to look with eyes of affection upon any other
man; but for the true love which she bore Pelayo, she lived and died a
virgin. And she composed a book which treated of love and chivalry,
and the temptations of this mortal life; and one part discoursed of
celestial matters, and it was called "The Contemplations of Love;"
because at the time she wrote it, she thought of Pelayo, and of his
having accepted her jewel and called her by the gentle appellation of
"Amiga." And often thinking of him in tender sadness, and of her never
having beheld him more, she would take the book and would read it as
if in his stead; and while she repeated the words of love which it
contained, she would endeavor to fancy them uttered by Pelayo, and that
he stood before her.
* * * * *
THE KNIGHT OF MALTA.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE KNICKERBOCKER
SIR: In the course of a tour which I made in Sicily, in the days of my
juvenility, I passed some little time at the ancient city of Catania,
at the foot of Mount Ætna. Here I became acquainted with the Chevalier
L----, an old Knight of Malta. It was not many years after the time that
Napoleon had dislodged the knights from their island, and he still wore
the insignia of his order. He was not, however, one of those reliques of
that once chivalrous body, who had been described was "a few worn-out
old men, creeping about certain parts of Europe, with the Maltese cross
on their breasts;" on the contrary, though advanced in life, his form
was still light and vigorous; he had a pale, thin, intellectual visage,
with a high forehead, and a bright, visionary eye. He seemed to take a
fancy to me, as I certainly did to him, and we soon became intimate,
I visited him occasionally, at his apartments, in the wing of an old
palace, looking toward Mount Ætna. He was an antiquary, a virtuoso, and
a connoisseur. His rooms were decorated with mutilated statues, dug up
from Grecian and Roman ruins; old vases, lachrymals, and sepulchral
lamps. He had astronomical and chemical instruments, and black-letter
books, in various languages. I found that he had dipped a little in
chimerical studies and had a hankering after astrology and alchymy. He
affected to believe in dreams and visions, and delighted in the fanciful
Rosicrucian doctrines. I cannot persuade myself, however, that he really
believed in all these: I rather think he loved to let his imagination
carry him away into the boundless fairy land which they unfolded.
In company with the chevalier, I took several excursions on horseback
about the environs of Catania, and the picturesque skirts of Mount Etna.
One of these led through a village, which had sprung up on the very
tract of an ancient eruption, the houses being built of lava. At one
time we passed, for some distance, along a narrow lane, between two high
dead convent walls. It was a cut-throat-looking place, in a country
where assassinations are frequent; and just about midway through it,
we observed blood upon the pavement and the walls, as if a murder had
actually been committed there.
The chevalier spurred on his horse, until he had extricated himself
completely from this suspicious neighborhood. He then observed, that it
reminded him of a similar blind alley in Malta, infamous on account of
the many assassinations that had taken place there; concerning one
of which, he related a long and tragical story, that lasted until
we reached Catania. It involved various circumstances of a wild and
supernatural character, but which he assured me were handed down in
tradition, and generally credited by the old inhabitants of Malta.
As I like to pick up strange stories, and as I was particularly struck
with several parts of this, I made a minute of it, on my return to my
lodgings. The memorandum was lost, with several others of my travelling
papers, and the story had faded from my mind, when recently, in perusing
a French memoir, I came suddenly upon it, dressed up, it is true, in a
very different manner, but agreeing in the leading facts, and given upon
the word of that famous adventurer, the Count Cagliostro.
I have amused myself, during a snowy day in the country, by rendering it
roughly into English, for the entertainment of a youthful circle round
the Christmas fire. It was well received by my auditors, who, however,
are rather easily pleased. One proof of its merits is that it sent
some of the youngest of them quaking to their beds, and gave them very
fearful dreams. Hoping that it may have the same effect upon your
ghost-hunting readers, I offer it, Mr. Editor, for insertion in your
Magazine. I would observe, that wherever I have modified the French
version of the Story, it has been in conformity to some recollection of
the narrative of my friend, the Knight of Malta.
Your obt. servt.,
GEOFFREY CRAYON.
* * * * *
_THE GRAND PRIOR OF MINORCA,_
A VERITABLE GHOST STORY.
"Keep my wits, heaven! They say spirits appear
To melancholy minds, and the graves open!"--FLETCHER.
About the middle of the last century, while the Knights of Saint John of
Jerusalem still maintained something of their ancient state and sway in
the Island of Malta, a tragical event took place there, which is the
groundwork of the following narrative.
It may be as well to premise, that at the time we are treating of,
the order of Saint John of Jerusalem, grown excessively wealthy, had
degenerated from its originally devout and warlike character. Instead
of being a hardy body of "monk-knights," sworn soldiers of the cross,
fighting the Paynim in the Holy Land, or scouring the Mediterranean, and
scourging the Barbary coasts with their galleys, or feeding the poor,
and attending upon the sick at their hospitals, they led a life of
luxury and libertinism, and were to be found in the most voluptuous
courts of Europe. The order, in fact, had become a mode of providing
for the needy branches of the Catholic aristocracy of Europe. "A
commandery," we are told, was a splendid provision for a younger
brother; and men of rank, however dissolute, provided they belonged
to the highest aristocracy, became Knights of Malta, just as they did
bishops, or colonels of regiments, or court chamberlains. After a brief
Residence at Malta, the knights passed the rest of their time in their
own countries, or only made a visit now and then to the island. While
there, having but little military duty to perform, they beguiled their
idleness by paying attentions to the fair.
There was one circle of society, however, into which they could not
obtain currency. This was composed of a few families of the old Maltese
nobility, natives of the island. These families, not being permitted
to enroll any of their members in the order, affected to hold no
intercourse with its chevaliers; admitting none into their exclusive
coteries but the Grand Master, whom they acknowledged as their
sovereign, and the members of the chapter which composed his council.
To indemnify themselves for this exclusion, the chevaliers carried their
gallantries into the next class of society, composed of those who held
civil, administrative, and judicial situations. The ladies of this class
were called _honorate_, or honorables, to distinguish them from the
inferior orders; and among them were many of superior grace, beauty, and
fascination.
Even in this more hospitable class, the chevaliers were not all equally
favored. Those of Germany had the decided preference, owing to their
fair and fresh complexions, and the kindliness of their manners: next
to these came the Spanish cavaliers, on account of their profound and
courteous devotion, and most discreet secrecy. Singular as it may seem,
the chevaliers of France fared the worst. The Maltese ladies dreaded
their volatility, and their proneness to boast of their amours, and
shunned all entanglement with them. They were forced, therefore, to
content themselves with conquests among females of the lower orders.
They revenged themselves, after the gay French manner, by making the
"honorate" the objects of all kinds of jests and mystifications; by
prying into their tender affairs with the more favored chevaliers, and
making them the theme of song and epigram.
About this time, a French vessel arrived at Malta, bringing out a
distinguished personage of the order of Saint John of Jerusalem,
the Commander de Foulquerre, who came to solicit the post of
commander-in-chief of the galleys. He was descended from an old and
warrior line of French nobility, his ancestors having long been
seneschals of Poitou, and claiming descent from the first counts of
Angouleme.
The arrival of the commander caused a little uneasiness among the
peaceably inclined, for he bore the character, in the island, of being
fiery, arrogant, and quarrelsome. He had already been three times at
Malta, and on each visit had signalized himself by some rash and deadly
affray.
As he was now thirty-five years of age, however, it was hoped that time
might have taken off the fiery edge of his spirit, and that he might
prove more quiet and sedate than formerly. The commander set up an
establishment befitting his rank and pretensions; for he arrogated to
himself an importance greater even than that of the Grand Master. His
house immediately became the rallying place of all the young French
chevaliers. They informed him of all the slights they had experienced or
imagined, and indulged their petulant and satirical vein at the expense
of the honorate and their admirers. The chevaliers of other nations soon
found the topics and tone of conversation at the commander's irksome and
offensive, and gradually ceased to visit there. The commander remained
the head of a national _clique_, who looked up to him as their model.
If he was not as boisterous and quarrelsome as formerly, he had become
haughty and overbearing. He was fond of talking over his past affairs of
punctilio and bloody duel. When walking the streets, he was generally
attended by a ruffling train of young French cavaliers, who caught his
own air of assumption and bravado. These he would conduct to the scenes
of his deadly encounters, point out the very spot where each fatal lunge
had been given, and dwell vaingloriously on every particular.
Under his tuition, the young French chevaliers began to add bluster and
arrogance to their former petulance and levity; they fired up on the
most trivial occasions, particularly with those who had been most
successful with the fair; and would put on the most intolerable
drawcansir airs. The other chevaliers conducted themselves with all
possible forbearance and reserve; but they saw it would be impossible to
keep on long, in this manner, without coming to an open rupture.
Among the Spanish cavaliers was one named Don Luis de Lima Vasconcellos.
He was distantly related to the Grand Master; and had been enrolled at
an early age among his pages, but had been rapidly promoted by him,
until, at the age of twenty-six, he had been given the richest Spanish
commandery in the order. He had, moreover, been fortunate with the fair,
with one of whom, the most beautiful honorata of Malta, he had long
maintained the most tender correspondence.
The character, rank, and connexions of Don Luis put him on a par with
the imperious Commander de Foulquerre, and pointed him out as a leader
and champion to his countrymen. The Spanish chevaliers repaired to him,
therefore, in a body; represented all the grievances they had sustained,
and the evils they apprehended, and urged him to use his influence with
the commander and his adherents to put a stop to the growing abuses.
Don Luis was gratified by this mark of confidence and esteem on the part
of his countrymen, and promised to have an interview with the Commander
de Foulquerre on the subject. He resolved to conduct himself with
the utmost caution and delicacy on the occasion; to represent to
the commander the evil consequences which might result from the
inconsiderate conduct of the young French chevaliers, and to entreat him
to exert the great influence he so deservedly possessed over them, to
restrain their excesses. Don Luis was aware, however, of the peril that
attended any interview of the kind with this imperious and fractious
man, and apprehended, however it might commence, that it would terminate
in a duel. Still, it was an affair of honor, in which Castilian dignity
was concerned; beside, he had a lurking disgust at the overbearing
manners of De Foulquerre, and perhaps had been somewhat offended by
certain intrusive attentions which he had presumed to pay to the
beautiful honorata.
It was now Holy Week; a time too sacred for worldly feuds and passions,
especially in a community under the dominion of a religious order; it
was agreed, therefore, that the dangerous interview in question should
not take place until after the Easter holidays. It is probable, from
subsequent circumstances, that the Commander de Foulquerre had some
information of this arrangement among the Spanish chevaliers, and was
determined to be beforehand, and to mortify the pride of their champion,
who was thus preparing to read him a lecture. He chose Good Friday for
his purpose. On this sacred day, it is customary in Catholic countries
to make a tour of all the churches, offering up prayers in each. In
every Catholic church, as is well known, there is a vessel of holy water
near the door. In this, every one, on entering, dips his fingers, and
makes therewith the sign of the cross on his forehead and breast. An
office of gallantry, among the young Spaniards, is to stand near the
door, dip their hands in the holy vessel, and extend them courteously
and respectfully to any lady of their acquaintance who may enter; who
thus receives the sacred water at second hand, on the tips of her
fingers, and proceeds to cross herself, with all due decorum. The
Spaniards, who are the most jealous of lovers, are impatient when this
piece of devotional gallantry is proffered to the object of their
affections by any other hand: on Good Friday, therefore, when a lady
makes a tour of the churches, it is the usage among them for the
inamorato to follow her from church to church, so as to present her the
holy water at the door of each; thus testifying his own devotion, and at
the same time preventing the officious services of a rival.
On the day in question, Don Luis followed the beautiful honorata, to
whom, as has already been observed, he had long been devoted. At the
very first church she visited, the Commander de Foulquerre was stationed
at the portal, with several of the young French chevaliers about him.
Before Don Luis could offer her the holy water, he was anticipated by
the commander, who thrust himself between them, and, while he performed
the gallant office to the lady, rudely turned his back upon her admirer,
and trod upon his feet. The insult was enjoyed by the young Frenchmen
who were present: it was too deep and grave to be forgiven by Spanish
pride; and at once put an end to all Don Luis' plans of caution and
forbearance. He repressed his passion for the moment, however, and
waited until all the parties left the church; then, accosting the
commander with an air of coolness and unconcern, he inquired after his
health, and asked to what church he proposed making his second visit.
"To the Magisterial Church of Saint John." Don Luis offered to conduct
him thither, by the shortest route. His offer was accepted, apparently
without suspicion, and they proceeded together. After walking some
distance, they entered a long, narrow lane, without door or window
opening upon it, called the "Strada Stretta," or narrow street. It was a
street in which duels were tacitly permitted, or connived at, in Malta,
and were suffered to pass as accidental encounters. Every where else
they were prohibited. This restriction had been instituted to diminish
the number of duels, formerly so frequent in Malta. As a farther
precaution to render these encounters less fatal, it was an offence,
punishable with death, for any one to enter this street armed with
either poniard or pistol. It was a lonely, dismal street, just wide
enough for two men to stand upon their guard, and cross their swords;
few persons ever traversed it, unless with some sinister design; and on
any preconcerted duello, the seconds posted themselves at each end, to
stop all passengers, and prevent interruption.
In the present instance, the parties had scarce entered the street,
when Don Luis drew his sword, and called upon the commander to defend
himself.
De Foulquerre was evidently taken by surprise: he drew back, and
attempted to expostulate; but Don Luis persisted in defying him to the
combat.
After a second or two, he likewise drew his sword, but immediately
lowered the point.
"Good Friday!" ejaculated he, shaking his head: "one word with you; it
is full six years since I have been in a confessional: I am shocked at
the state of my conscience; but within three days--that is to say, on
Monday next--"
Don Luis would listen to nothing. Though naturally of a peaceable
disposition, he had been stung to fury, and people of that character,
when once incensed, are deaf to reason. He compelled the commander to
put himself on his guard. The latter, though a man accustomed to brawl
in battle, was singularly dismayed. Terror was visible in all his
features. He placed himself with his back to the wall, and the weapons
were crossed. The contest was brief and fatal. At the very first thrust,
the sword of Don Luis passed through the body of his antagonist. The
commander staggered to the wall, and leaned against it.
"On Good Friday!" ejaculated he again, with a failing voice, and
despairing accents. "Heaven pardon you!" added he; "take my sword to
Têtefoulques, and have a hundred masses performed in the chapel of the
castle, for the repose of my soul!" With these words he expired.
The fury of Don Luis was at an end. He stood aghast, gazing at the
bleeding body of the commander. He called to mind the prayer of the
deceased for three days' respite, to make his peace with heaven; he had
refused it; had sent him to the grave, with all his sins upon his head!
His conscience smote him to the core; he gathered up the sword of the
commander, which he had been enjoined to take to Têtefoulques, and
hurried from the fatal Strada Stretta.