that it is the intention of the sovereigns of Europe to revive the order, and fix them in some of the islands of the Levant*. The utility of such restoration may well be called in question. Much, very much may be allowed, for the interest which is excited by a gallant chivalrous order; for the gratitude resulting from the protection they afforded to early Christian commerce; for the attachment in most countries connected with a name, so ancient and so illustrious: but the talisman on which that interest and attachment rested is broke; like many of the ancient governments, the chain once severed cannot be rejoined. Even supposing such feelings undiminished, either by their behaviour, in cowardly ceding the island, or by the lapse of time, where now are the estates, without which they cannot exist? Will they be restored also? Where are the remnants of their order? Such are the obstacles that impede the revival; what may be the objects for which they should be

I have experienced much interest in visiting Malta, but there is a distinction to be preserved between the interest of the feelings in a romantic chivalrous history, and the interest of reason in a well constituted and useful state.

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restored? To check piracy? that which they at the most only professed to combat, the present possessors of their island have annihilated: if they afforded some protection against the corsairs, owing to us there are no corsairs to dread. Is it to guard against Turkish slavery, or to promote the glory of the Cross? The world has now become too civilised to find much annoyance from the first, and too wise to be blinded by the second. "The age of chivalry is past," with its evil though fascinating charms; and over the cooler minds of the present day, the sarcasms of Voltaire, or natural reasoning of Gibbon, would hold more sway than the enthusiasm of Peter the Hermit or chivalrous virtues of Cœur de Lion. Utility must ever be out of the question. Allowing it to be re-established, as a mark of ancient honour, unless it be at Malta, on the heights of Sceberras, in the forts of St. Angelo and St. Elmo, amidst the scenes of their triumphs in 1565— what interest can be excited? and even here the annals are not those of chevaliers sans tache and sans peur. Allowing it to be reestablished as an order inoffensive and virtuous; we are then driven to review their in

dividual conduct, or their ridiculous institutions. The first bears no comment. Among the latter the following are the most amusing.

No knight was to be admitted that had not four quarterings; those of the tongue of Germany must possess sixteen. Each of the tongues had an albergo, the head of which was their caterer, and called piliere; if he supplied them with bad dinners, no complaint was allowed but to the piliere, and if he pronounced the complaint vexatious, the complainant was sentenced to the punishment of septaine, or a fast of seven days, with daily humiliation in St. John's, and bread and water on Wednesday and Friday. "No Knight was, on any account, to enter the kitchen." I suppose hunger used to drive them there. Chastity, it is supposed, was most strictly enforced; but according to the statute, it is only when an offence was in public, that it was punished by public degradation: if in private, it was expiated by mere private penitence. Such was the order that lasted from 1104 to 1798.

I will just add the method of electing the Grand Master, and the duties of the several tongues,

* The degradation of the Knights from their original character has been the theme of every traveller.

as they are curious. Each of the seven tongues, (when that of England was abolished) chose three electors, and three were chosen to represent England. These twenty-four retired to a council, where they selected out of their number three persons, these three chose one other, these four another, and so on to sixteen, who at last elected the Grand Master. The following are the tongues, and their duties.

CHAPTER VI.

MALTA TO SYRACUSE.

"Urbem Syracusas maximam esse Græcarum urbium pulcherrimamque omnium sæpe audistis." Cicero in Verrem. lib.4.

DAY after day passed away, and we could find no vessel to convey us back to Sicily: Malta, which appeared at first so interesting, became at last like a prison; we, like Ulysses, forgot the temptations of Calypso's isle, when detained by necessity, and sympathised with Reidesel in his declaration, "j'eprouvai une inquietude si désagréable, que j'en conçus le plus violent desir de repartir au plutôt." At last we found a brig (" the Isabella,") which was on the departure for Syracuse. An English clergyman, Mr. G―v―r, joined our party; and, after having provided all the comforts we could think of, to pass the time of our quarantine, we hoisted sail the evening of May 27, and passed under the batteries of St. Elmo, exactly as the