Broadway of Valletta.--Panoramic Street View.--A Bogus
Nobility.--Former Grand Palace of the Knights.--Telegraphic
Station.--About Soldier-Priests.--Interior of the Palace.
--Ancient Tapestry.--Old Paintings.--Antique Armory.--An
American with a Fad.--Ancient Battle-Flags.--Armor worn by
the Knights.--Days of the Crusaders.--Bonaparate as a Petty
Thief.--There are no Saints on Earth!--Dueling Ground.--
Desecrating Good Friday.
The Strada Reale of Valletta is thoroughly kaleidoscopic in its gay and
fascinating presentment of humanity, forming a strange medley of colors,
while its variety of nationalities recalls Suez and Port Said, where
representatives of the East and West are so confusingly mingled. Here
one sees English ladies and gentlemen clad in fashionable London attire;
soldiers in smart red uniforms; barefooted natives, whose lower garments
are held in place by a gaudy sash tied about the waist; brown-skinned
peddlers, with fancy wares, jostled by a dignified Hindoo, a turbaned
Turk, or a swarthy Spaniard of questionable purpose. There passes also
an occasional Greek in picturesque national costume; a white burnoused
Arab; a native woman in sombre dress, with her face nearly hidden by a
dark hood (a faldetta), which takes the place of a Castilian mantilla.
Here, also, are noisy, half-tipsy blue-jackets, with broad collars, and
straw hats, enjoying shore-leave after their ideas of pleasure. There
are many plethoric, unctuous priests and cowled monks, all mingling
indiscriminately; while persistent, whining, half-clad beggars are
present everywhere. Verily, it is a motley group one encounters upon
this principal street of the Maltese capital.
Having once promenaded the Strada Reale from the fortress of St. Elmo to
the Floriana Gate, lined from the beginning to the end with quaint
yellow buildings, green projecting balconies, prominent statues of
saints, and filled with a variety of colors generally which a painter's
palette could hardly excel, an American is not likely soon to forget the
brilliant picture of foreign life which it presents. In our own country,
nothing like it is seen off the theatrical stage.
As regards the faldetta, or dark hood, which screens the faces of the
Maltese women, though a popular legend ascribes its origin to the time
of the French invasion, our own idea is quite different. Its adoption is
most probably connected with the Oriental veil or yashmak of the Eastern
women. It came into use, doubtless, upon these islands during the
dominion of the Arabs, and has been handed down from mother to daughter
ever since. It is purely for street wear. Within the house, at the
theatre, or other public entertainments, variety in dress is not
wanting, nor the dazzling brilliancy of diamonds and other precious
stones, to set off in attractive style the rich brown complexion, dreamy
eyes, and fine features of the Maltese ladies. The effect of this
peculiar hood as worn in public is both nun-like and coquettish,--a
seeming anomaly; but it is quite correct. The average woman of this
mid-sea group speaks a universal language with her dark, expressive
eyes, though only Maltese with her lips.
Society, as the term is commonly used, is rather peculiar in Valletta,
and is divided into many cliques. There is plenty of gayety, such as is
always to be met with in a great naval and military depot. Many of the
conventionalities of English home life are dropped here, as they are
inevitably in Her Majesty's Indian possessions, or at Hong Kong. All
colonial life is apt to be a little lax, so to speak, just a trifle
fast. Ennuied by their semi-isolation and circumscribed resources, even
cultured people are liable to grow careless as regards the nice
refinements of society. There are several clubs whose object is of a
literary character. A well-organized society for the prevention of
cruelty to animals exists here, also one to promote agriculture, and
another known as the Society of Arts. Each of these engages the
attention of a certain set of people of culture, to their own advantage
and indirectly to that of the community.
It is natural that there should be a certain exclusiveness observed
between the Maltese families and those of the official English
residents. Caste, so to express it, though not under the arbitrary
conditions in which it exists in India, is not unknown here. Where is it
not to be found under various forms throughout Christendom? It exists
to a certain degree among the English themselves. The separation caused
by the dissimilarity of language, religion, and education is also wide.
There are, as already stated, a certain number of "nobles" who transmit
their distinction to their sons. These are a bigoted, useless, and
extremely ignorant class, generally possessing just enough inheritance
to keep them from beggary, yet who are too proud of their empty titles
to adopt any occupation. These individuals, together with the numerous
native priests, as illiterate as their humblest parishioners, form the
black sheep of Malta, equally useless and unornamental, illustrating the
proverb that "Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do."
The quays bordering the harbor of the capital present a busy and
picturesque scene well worthy of study. Next to the Strada Reale, they
afford the strongest local color. They are dotted with fruit stands,
refreshment booths, out-of-door cafes, piles of ship-chandlery, jack
tars in white canvas clothes and beribboned hats, and native boatmen in
scarlet caps and sashes of the same texture. One feels inclined to laugh
at the queer little go-carts intended to carry three or four persons,
and drawn by a dwarfed donkey. These vehicles are not unlike an
Irish-jaunting-car, the passengers sitting sideways in the same fashion.
The former Grand Palace of the Knights of St. John is quite a plain
structure externally, much less pretentious than the edifices devoted
to the several divisions of the order. The Auberge de Castile, for
instance, is a far more striking and ornamental palace, built at the
headquarters of the Spanish language. The Grand Palace has an unbroken
frontage of three hundred feet on St. George's Square,--Piazza St.
Giorgio,--forming an immense quadrangle bounded on each side by large
thoroughfares. Two centuries ago this was called the Piazza dei
Cavalieri, or the "Square of the Knights," and was held as almost sacred
ground. No Maltese could resort to it without a permit in the early days
of the new city. The French called it the Square of Liberty. On the
opposite side of this esplanade is the main guard house of the garrison,
also an establishment known as the Casino, a popular resort of the
merchants and the public generally. Over the entrance of the building
devoted to the guard is the following inscription in Latin: "The love of
the Maltese and the voice of Europe confirm these islands to great and
invincible Britain." In the Strada Vescovo, on the left of the square,
is the house occupied by Byron while he resided here, a fact which your
guide will be sure to mention, as though it were of some real
importance. The old palace has two principal entrances in the front,
each of which leads into an inner area or open court. There are two
other entrances, one from the Strada Vescovo, and one at the back facing
the public market. Centuries ago these spaces within the palace were
improved, one for the storage of the sedan chairs belonging to the
leaders of the several divisions of the Knights, and the other as a
stable for the horses of the Grand Master. During the Carnival these
dignitaries made a gallant show, drawn in the state carriage, to which
six gayly decorated mules were attached, and preceded by a trumpeter.
To-day these deliciously cool areas which lie within the palace are
planted with orange-trees, tall scarlet verbenas, pink oleanders,
hibiscus, rosebushes, and honeysuckles. A large and thrifty creeping
vine, whose name we cannot recall, covered one whole side of a wing of
the building, from foundation to roof, with a wilderness of green,
together with a wealth of scarlet bloom, imparting an agreeable sense of
beauty and fragrance. The liquid notes of a musical fountain also
delighted the ear. In the right-hand court is a large Norfolk Island
pine, planted by the Duke of Edinburgh, and this is called Prince
Alfred's Court. The left-hand area is named for the Prince of Wales, and
contains a statue of Neptune by Giovanni of Bologna.
This famous old palace is now occupied as the town residence of the
English governor and commander-in-chief of the forces.
The upper portion is surmounted by a tall square tower, originally
designed as an observatory, the obvious incongruity of which seems to
indicate that it was probably an afterthought on the part of the
architect. It is now used as a marine telegraph station, whence all
arrivals are signaled as soon as the ships' flags and numbers can be
made out. The view from this _torretta_, as it is called, drew forth the
admiration of Lamartine, who visited it. "From the tower of the old
palace," he writes, "Valletta is seen in all its original beauty,
appearing as if cut out of a single piece of living rock."
The area in front of the palace--no longer exclusive ground--is now a
favorite public resort, and contains two fountains brimming with sweet
refreshment. Here one of the regimental bands gives out-of-door concerts
twice a week. This is also made the headquarters of the annual carnival
displays and frequent military reviews. The Spaniards would call it the
plaza of the city.
It is true that the exterior of this historic pile is somewhat
disappointing and commonplace in its architectural effect, but the
interior more than compensates for this first impression. One enters the
lofty corridors stimulated by a throng of active memories touching the
romantic story of the chivalric order of the Knights. The impress of
that seemingly incongruous combination, the soldier and the priest, is
everywhere to be seen. We promptly recall their humble beginning
centuries ago at Jerusalem, where, actuated by pious zeal, they
fulfilled the duty of good Samaritans; how they grew in numbers and in
importance until they finally became a warlike body of soldier-monks,
knight-errants of the cross. We remember that for hundreds of years they
fought incessantly against the active power of the Porte, and, almost
single-handed, kept the Ottomans and the piratical Algerines at bay, an
enemy who, uniting, strove to extend the creed of Mohammed westward by
power of the sword, and to banish Christianity from the face of the
earth; how, successively driven from Jerusalem, Cyprus, Acre, and
Rhodes, they finally established a home for the order in this Maltese
group, in defense of which they fought heroically, spilling their blood
like water upon the ramparts of St. Elmo, and finally erecting this
noble city, where they have left such lasting monuments of their
bravery, enterprise, success, and decline.
Such thoughts are almost automatically suggested by the brain as one
enters the portals of the interesting old palace, once the court of the
now virtually extinct fraternity. Though occupied by the English
officials and kept scrupulously in order, it has an unmistakable and
most melancholy air of desertion in its stately hangings, its echoing
halls, and quaint vestibules. It must all have been very grand when the
renowned brotherhood were at the zenith of their fame and power, when
the head of the order presided here and ruled the proud organization in
regal state.
The interior of the palace is divided into broad passageways inlaid with
colored marble, picture galleries, banqueting hall, hall of justice,
hall of council, grand armory, and many other spacious apartments. Among
the most meritorious paintings are a series of striking views
representing the various sanguinary battles in which the Knights had
from time to time been engaged. This series is the work of Matteo da
Lecce. Other examples of superior workmanship are by Caravaggio,
Cavalier Favray, Giuseppe d' Arpino, and so on. There are no modern
paintings in the palace, all are mellowed by age. Indeed, there is
nothing new here in art or furniture; such would be quite out of place;
everything seems to have about it the tone of lapsed centuries, while
exhibiting a lavishness of original expenditure which the most limitless
means alone could warrant.
In one of the broad corridors near the armory hall, the gilded state
carriage formerly used by the Grand Masters may be seen. Its gaudy
construction shows the style kept up by the Knights in those days. The
tawdry, lumbering, gold-decked state carriage one sees at the State
Department of the City of Mexico, left by the ill-advised Maximilian, is
no more extravagant in character. The idea of supporting an official
carriage at all upon this circumscribed island is an obvious folly and
straining after effect. The most extensive journey such a vehicle could
make would be the length of the Strada Reale, or possibly from the
palace square through the Porta Reale into the suburb of Floriana, about
two miles. This useless carriage somehow recalled the ponderous gilded
car of Juggernaut, seen at Tanjore, India, the structure in which the
idol takes its yearly airing drawn by thousands of poor, deluded, and
fanatical Hindoos.
This edifice in the Square of St. George, it will be remembered, was the
official palace of the order, the headquarters of the Grand Master.
Each "language" or division of the Knights had also its separate palace.
Valletta, like Calcutta or Venice, was a city of palaces. In these
latter days the members of the fraternity lived in great splendor; their
tables were heavy with the richest viands to be obtained, while they
were served in regal style by numerous slaves, male and female.
The council chamber of the Grand Palace is hung with ancient Brussels
fabrics of great original cost and beauty. These pieces of tapestry,
twenty-two in all, are each fifteen feet square. The figures are of
life-size, representing typical scenes in India, Africa, Europe, and
America, and depicting with considerable accuracy the fauna and flora of
each section of the globe. In the representations of America, there are
a few manifest incongruities and inaccuracies, but one should not be
hypercritical under such circumstances. Little, comparatively speaking,
was known three hundred years ago of this great western continent. These
tapestries are in a state of remarkable preservation, both as regards
color and texture. They are said to have hung in their present position
for over two centuries and a half, exposed to a strong light, and more
or less to atmospheric influences. These are rare specimens of the
admirable work as well as of the durable colors produced by those early
artists in textile fabrics. Connoisseurs whose interest is in this
special line visit Malta solely to see them as they hang in the old
palace.
The author chanced to meet a wealthy American gentleman in the city of
Florence, lately, with whom this mania for ancient tapestry had become
chronic, and was pursued to some purpose. The individual referred to was
Mr. Charles M. Ffoulke, now of Washington, D. C. He had invested over
fifty thousand dollars in the purchase of very old and neglected fabrics
of this sort, found in various parts of Italy, notably at Rome. These
were mostly from the looms of Gobelin and Brussels. Mr. Ffoulke had
secured the services of a score of patient nuns in the convents of
Florence, who were engaged in the careful restoration of the frayed and
torn, but valuable fabrics. When every piece should be brought as nearly
as possible to its original condition, the whole was to be shipped to
America. One portion of this collection, valued at twenty thousand
dollars, is already in this country, and was presented by its generous
owner for the adornment of the sacristy of a prominent church in New
York city.
The spacious dining-hall of the government palace of Malta contains
among many other portraits one of Grand Master Vijncourt, by the famous
artist Caravaggio. A master ruler of the order, as we have shown, always
lived in regal style. When he went to church he was attended by a
hundred Knights in full uniform, and half a dozen pages to hold up the
bottom of his robes of state. When he dined in public, the Knights who
formed the rank and file of the order ranged themselves about the hall
standing, and no one moved until he gave the signal for doing so. He
was addressed only in the most deferential manner, and the Knight doing
so must uncover his head and bow submissively. No royal court observed
more strictly the etiquette of profound respect, as evinced towards the
reigning sovereign of the realm.
There is also in the old palace a gorgeous throne-room and ball-room
combined, sometimes used for the latter purpose to-day. The several
private apartments are all richly frescoed by the best exponents of the
art who could be obtained in Italy, when frescoing was held to be one of
the highest branches of pictorial illustration. Many of the scenes are
very elaborate and quite unfaded, representing events in the early
history of the Order of St. John, including tableaux of the famous
defense of Rhodes, together with many sea-fights between the galleys of
the order and the piratical crafts of the Barbary coast. The Knights
prided themselves upon being as good sailors as soldiers. It was in
their galleons that they captured their richest spoils from wealthy
Ottomans, who often carried with them to sea not only much personal
property and convertible wealth, but also a portion of their slaves and
the favorites of their harems. It was thus that each capture of the
Knights represented a considerable amount of real wealth.
In visiting the Grand Palace of Malta, the apartment which is sure most
to interest and occupy the stranger is that of the elaborate armory of
the ancient order, a spacious hall, two hundred and fifty feet long by
forty wide, wherein are exhibited the steel harness, mailed gloves,
crossbows, javelins, halberds, pikes, arquebuses, and battle-axes which
were used by these soldier-monks in actual service. Like Falstaff's
sword, the edges of these weapons present tokens of having given and
received many shattering blows, but one feels no doubt that the evidence
here displayed is genuine. History in this connection is quite vivid
enough without seeking to heighten its color by any subterfuge. In the
days when these weapons were used, conflicts were mostly at close
quarters, hand-to-hand. Cavalry and long range cannon were of little
account; indeed, the latter did not exist, and in siege operations the
former were almost entirely useless.
In this interesting and curious armory are many torn flags, Turkish
robes of military rank, and other trophies of war captured from the
infidels in various conflicts.
A critical eye will observe that most of the armor must have been
designed for men of smaller physical development than the average
soldier of our period. There is one mail suit in the hall, to wear
which, a man must have been at least seven feet in height, and of
corresponding physical development, the helmet alone weighing
thirty-five pounds, which would soon exhaust the strength of an ordinary
man. There are said to be over three hundred suits of armor preserved
and mounted in the collection, though we should not have thought there
were nearly so many. The average weight of these must be considerably
over forty pounds each. Many are constructed of the finest quality of
steel, elaborately engraved, and inlaid with gold and silver. The
author's attention was called to one suit, which was so heavily
ornamented with the precious metal that the original cost must have been
at least a thousand pounds sterling, including the artistic and
mechanical labor involved in its production. This armor, it should be
understood, was only designed to protect the front and side of the
wearer's person. Here and there are seen a breast-plate with indentures
evidently made by an enemy's bullet or spear-thrust, which would
doubtless have proved fatal to the wearer but for this metallic
protection. The armory is also hung with an interesting series of grim
old portraits of the Grand Masters of the Order of St. John, dating back
to the earliest days of the organization. As here represented, they must
have been men of decided character, the traits of decision and firmness
being those most prominently delineated by the artists. One or two were
evidently persons of fine and commanding personality, notably L'Isle
Adam and La Vallette. There is, somehow, a sternness and spirit of
aggression pervading all these counterfeit presentments.
Some of the firearms in the Knights' armory are very curious weapons,
closely resembling the principle of our modern revolvers and
breech-loading guns, although it must be remembered that these specimens
are three or four hundred years old. When one pauses to consider the
matter, this seems to make the late Colonel Colt more of a discoverer
than an inventor. A most curious cannon preserved among the rest of the
arms, small in calibre and of Turkish workmanship, is particularly
interesting. It has a barrel which would take a ball of about an inch
and a half in diameter, and is made from closely-woven tarred rope, with
a thin metallic lining, the whole so strong and compact that it would
sustain a discharge of gunpowder sufficient to propel a shot with fatal
effect a hundred yards at least. This singular weapon seems to have been
used for belligerent purposes, and it purports to have been taken from
the Mussulmans during the famous siege of Malta, in 1565, when an enemy
forty thousand strong, with a hundred and fifty galleys, invested the
island and besieged it for three months, being finally defeated with a
loss of three quarters of their army. Thirty thousand men are said to
have lost their lives on the part of the Turks, by the sword and camp
fevers, not to enumerate those disabled by wounds.
As regards this strong and compact rope cannon just spoken of, so far as
we know it is unique, and would seem to belong to an earlier period than
is claimed for it. Probably it was brought by the Knights from Rhodes.
Few people are aware how strongly tarred rope can be bound together by
seamen and others accustomed to manipulate it. When thoroughly worked
into shape, it becomes almost as solid as iron.
The rusty old lances, broken spears, and dimmed sword-blades hanging
beside tattered battle-flags bearing bloody marks of the fierce contests
in which they took part, are silent but suggestive tokens of the
Crusades, recalling the names of Saladin and Coeur de Lion, when
Christians and Mohammedans were arrayed in bitter sectarian warfare
against each other upon the plains of Palestine,--romantic and historic
days rendered thrice familiar to us by the captivating pen of Scott.
Here we pause for a moment before the trumpet which sounded the retreat
from Rhodes. These instruments close beside it are the batons of office
which were used on state occasions by Aliofio Wignacourt and La
Vallette. Those curious in such matters find the place full of interest
while carefully examining these warlike appurtenances, which as a whole
form a collection unequaled in its line by any armory in Europe. There
are many interesting relics of the famous Order of the Knights in this
apartment, besides those of the battlefield. The hall is a veritable
museum, containing many illuminated books, manuscripts, sacred emblems,
ancient Phoenician, Arabic, and Maltese coins, with curious church
paraphernalia which were in constant use centuries ago, each article
forming a page, as it were, in the history of those Knights of the
church. Among the treasures preserved in the armory was the costly and
artistic sword given to the Grand Master, La Vallette, by Philip II. of
Spain. The golden hilt was set with large diamonds of purest water, and
the workmanship was of exquisite finish. This sword Bonaparte stole and
appropriated to his private use, wearing it ostentatiously when he
departed from Malta on his way to Egypt,--a mean and petty sort of
thieving which this man constantly practiced.
Among other valued curiosities, one sees in a glass case the deed of
perpetual sovereignty granted to the Order of St. John by Charles V.,
dated March, 1530. Nothing upon earth endures for long. The formal deed
of gift is here, but the title is extinct, and so is the order of the
Chevaliers of St. John.
The English government have stored in the palace a large collection of
firearms, including some twenty thousand muskets, which were
manufactured in the Tower of London. Such have been the improvements
made in this weapon, however, that these guns would hardly be considered
suitable arms with which to furnish a body of infantry in time of war.
The old smooth-bore, muzzle-loading firearm is now entirely obsolete.
Even the African tribes, who have so lately fought the French in
Dahomey, were supplied with, and used effectively, breech-loading
rifles.
It appears, as we have felt it our duty to make plain, that these
church-robed warriors were very human in their instincts, and by no
means exempt from the average sins that flesh is heir to. Some outspoken
historical writers have recorded acts of debauchery perpetrated by them
which we should certainly hesitate to reprint. All this, too,
notwithstanding their pretended sanctity and discipleship, together with
the stringency of their priestly vows. We may be sure that there are no
saints on this mundane sphere, and that those who pretend to the
greatest degree of sanctity are mostly those who possess the least.
Experience never fails to furnish proof of this. Our most cherished
idols have feet of clay. Nothing known to civilization is more debasing
to morality, truthfulness, honor, and chivalrous manhood than the
holding of slaves. The Knights of St. John were open and undisguised
slave traders,--slave traders in the fullest sense of the term, reaping
therefrom not alone constant additions to their material wealth, but
also all the miserable consequences contingent upon so vile a
connection. This was perhaps the greatest promoter of the sensuality,
gluttony, and gambling propensities which prevailed to such a
demoralizing and shameful extent among the members of the brotherhood.
These famous champions of the church had also their schisms, their petty
jealousies and quarrels, like all the rest of the world. There were in
the code of laws, to which they solemnly subscribed, stringent rules
against premeditated dueling, but these were easily and frequently
evaded. Fatal infractions often occurred, the outcome of quarrels
started over the gaming-table or the wine-cup. Punishment was somehow
escaped. The law was plain enough, but the misdeed seems always to have
been condoned. Men who live by the sword are very liable to die by it.
Deaths arising from personal conflicts were by no means rare among this
priestly fraternity. If a Knight was challenged by one of his
brotherhood for what was deemed to be good and sufficient cause, and did
not promptly respond, no matter why, he was denounced among the
fraternity as a coward, and was punished by social ostracism. The
inconsistency of such a state of affairs, existing in a pretended
religious community, will at once suggest itself to the reader. The
profession of Christianity did very little to separate the armed priest
from the brute. This fact was not only illustrated in this dueling
propensity, but in the recklessness of their daily habits. Human life
was held at the lowest possible estimate, and its sacrifice for trivial
causes was taken little if any notice of by those in authority. Men who
make a profession of arms are very liable to resort to weapons of
warfare, rather than to reason, in the settlement of any question which
may arise among them.
There is a narrow street which runs the whole length of the city,
parallel with the Strada Reale, which was celebrated as the dueling
ground of the Knights. The reason for this selection was because a
combat in this circumscribed passageway might be looked upon in the
light of a casual encounter, or an accidental collision. This was a very
weak deduction, but it appears to have sufficed for the purpose. The
fact was, that a challenge which had passed between two Knights, no
matter what the circumstances were, could not be ignored by them, or a
personal encounter avoided, any more than such an occurrence could be
disregarded among the swashbucklers of Dumas's musketeers. The instinct
of the sword, so to speak, was stronger with these professed
religionists than was any other recognized principle. The combatants
were bound, however, by some recognized palliating rules: for instance,
to put up their swords upon the interference of a brother Knight, an
officiating priest, or a woman, which may be interpreted as an attempt
to draw a line of prevention about this barbaric custom of settling
private disputes with the sword.
When a fatal conflict occurred on the Strada Stretta, a cross painted or
cut upon the house front nearest to the spot ever after indicated the
event. There used to be a long line of these significant signs upon this
thoroughfare, but nearly all are obliterated, some by design and others
by the wear of time. The records of the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries teem with entries of stabbing, wounding, and killing among the
Knights, the result of encounters upon the Strada Stretta. When there
was a common enemy to encounter, and upon whom to expend their surplus
energy, the Knights were as one man, living together in comparative
harmony, but in days of peace they were only too ready to turn their
weapons against each other in heated quarrels.
Washington Irving relates a veritable ghost story concerning a fatal
encounter which took place in this notorious Strada Stretta, as related
to him by an old Knight who once lived upon the island of Malta, and
whom he met somewhere in Italy. The basis of the story was the fact
that two Knights of the Order of St. John, one of Spain and one of
France, met and fought a duel here on a certain Good Friday, the latter
losing his life in the conflict. There was always more or less active
rivalry existing between the French and Spanish divisions of the
brotherhood. In the instance referred to there was a woman in the case,
for the Knights were as famous for their gallantry towards the ladies as
for prowess in battle. In times of peace they occupied their leisure,
not with any intellectual resort,--alas! that the truth must be told,
few of them, comparatively speaking, could read and write,--but nearly
all seem to have been experts at domestic intrigue and gambling, at
wine-bibbing and dueling. Their only study was the effective handling of
warlike weapons. The fencing-master, not the schoolmaster, was
constantly "abroad."
The story, which Irving tells at considerable length, represents the
victor in the duel referred to as having suffered infinite remorse for
his murderous act, and that he was pursued night and day by a terrible
phantom visible only to himself. In vain was the severest self-imposed
penance, in vain the confessional, in vain his prayerful regrets. He
seemed doomed as a just punishment to endure a purgatory upon earth. The
great onus of the whole affair, however, as made to appear in the
narrative, was not the sacrifice of a human life under such
circumstances, but that the act should have been committed on Good
Friday!