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Page 63
From that time forward, however, the whole character and conduct of Don
Luis underwent a change. He became a prey to a dark melancholy, which
nothing could assuage. The most austere piety, the severest penances,
had no effect in allaying the horror which preyed upon his mind. He was
absent for a long time from Malta; having gone, it was said, on remote
pilgrimages: when he returned, he was more haggard than ever. There
seemed something mysterious and inexplicable in this disorder of his
mind. The following is the revelation made by himself, of the horrible
visions, or chimeras, by which he was haunted:
"When I had made my declaration before the Chapter," said he, "and my
provocations were publicly known, I had made my peace with man; but it
was not so with God, nor with my confessor, nor with my own conscience.
My act was doubly criminal, from the day on which it was committed,
and from my refusal to a delay of three days, for the victim of my
resentment to receive the sacraments. His despairing ejaculation, 'Good
Friday! Good Friday!' continually rang in my ears. 'Why did I not grant
the respite!' cried I to myself; 'was it not enough to kill the body,
but must I seek to kill the soul!'
"On the night of the following Friday, I started suddenly from my sleep.
An unaccountable horror was upon me. I looked wildly around. It seemed
as if I were not in my apartment, nor in my bed, but in the fatal Strada
Stretta, lying on the pavement. I again saw the commander leaning
against the wall; I again heard his dying words: 'Take my sword to
T�tefoulques, and have a hundred masses performed in the chapel of the
castle, for the repose of my soul!'
"On the following night, I caused one of my servants to sleep in the
same room with me. I saw and heard nothing, either on that night, or any
of the nights following, until the next Friday; when I had again the
same vision, with this difference, that my valet seemed to be lying at
some distance from me on the pavement of the Strada Stretta. The vision
continued to be repeated on every Friday night, the commander always
appearing in the same manner, and uttering the same words: 'Take my
sword to T�tefoulques, and have a hundred masses performed in the chapel
of the castle for the repose of my soul!' On questioning my servant on
the subject, he stated, that on these occasions he dreamed that he was
lying in a very narrow street, but he neither saw nor heard any thing of
the commander.
"I knew nothing of this T�tefoulques, whither the defunct was so urgent
I should carry his sword. I made inquiries, therefore, concerning it
among the French chevaliers. They informed me that it was an old castle,
situated about four leagues from Poitiers, in the midst of a forest.
It had been built in old times, several centuries since, by Foulques
Taillefer, (or Fulke Hackiron,) a redoubtable, hard-fighting Count of
Angouleme, who gave it to an illegitimate son, afterward created Grand
Seneschal of Poitou, which son became the pro genitor of the Foulquerres
of T�tefoulques, hereditary Seneschals of Poitou. They farther
informed me, that strange stories were told of this old castle, in the
surrounding country, and that it contained many curious reliques. Among
these, were the arms of Foulques Taillefer, together with all those of
the warriors he had slain; and that it was an immemorial usage with the
Foulquerres to have the weapons deposited there which they had wielded
either in war or in single combat. This, then, was the reason of the
dying injunction of the commander respecting his sword. I carried this
weapon with me, wherever I went, but still I neglected to comply with
his request.
"The visions still continued to harass me with undiminished horror.
I repaired to Rome, where I confessed myself to the Grand Cardinal
penitentiary, and informed him of the terrors with which I was haunted.
He promised me absolution, after I should have performed certain acts of
penance, the principal of which was, to execute the dying request of the
commander, by carrying the sword to T�tefoulques, and having the hundred
masses performed in the chapel of the castle for the repose of his soul.
"I set out for France as speedily as possible, and made no delay in my
journey. On arriving at Poitiers, I found that the tidings of the death
of the commander had reached there, but had caused no more affliction
than among the people of Malta. Leaving my equipage in the town, I
put on the garb of a pilgrim, and taking a guide, set out on foot
for T�tefoulques, Indeed the roads in this part of the country were
impracticable for carriages.
"I found the castle of T�tefoulques a grand but gloomy and dilapidated
pile. All the gates were closed, and there reigned over the whole place
an air of almost savage loneliness and desertion. I had understood that
its only inhabitant were the concierge, or warder, and a kind of hermit
who had charge of the chapel. After ringing for some time at the gate,
I at length succeeded in bringing forth the warder, who bowed with
reverence to my pilgrim's garb. I begged him to conduct me to the
chapel, that being the end of my pilgrimage. We found the hermit there,
chanting the funeral service; a dismal sound to one who came to perform
a penance for the death of a member of the family. When he had ceased
to chant, I informed him that I came to accomplish an obligation of
conscience, and that I wished him to perform a hundred masses for the
repose of the soul of the commander. He replied that, not being in
orders, he was not authorized to perform mass, but that he would
willingly undertake to see that my debt of conscience was discharged. I
laid my offering on the altar, and would have placed the sword of the
commander there, likewise. 'Hold!' said the hermit, with a melancholy
shake of the head,'this is no place for so deadly a weapon, that has so
often been bathed in Christian blood. Take it to the armory; you will
find there trophies enough of like character. It is a place into which I
never enter.'
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