Malta

IN the middle of the sixteenth century, the Knights of the Order of St. John, who for nearly five hundred years had houses successively at Jerusalem, Cyprus, and Rhodes, and had developed from pious hospital nurses into tough soldiers, sought a new and more impregnable position in the Mediterranean. The efforts of the Grand Master and the Pope to induce the sovereigns of Europe to provide them a suitable position resulted in the cession to the Order, by the Emperor Charles V., of the little group of islands of which Malta is the largest. The appearance of their new territory, of which they took possession in 1530, must have been, especially when contrasted with their beautiful home at Rhodes, uninviting enough. But the heads of the Order seem to have fully understood the value of the harbors and of the geographical situation of the islands as a base of operations for maritime warfare; and they speedily began, in the old vigorous fashion, the work of fortification.

There are probably few places in the world better adapted for the purpose. On the eastern side of the island two narrow entrances admit to safe and commodious harbors, divided and commanded by an elevated tongue of land, then called Mount Scebberas, now occupied by the city of Valetta and its beautiful suburb Floriana. The larger harbor is to the south. Its northern shore has but little unevenness for more than a mile and a half. The opposite side is indented by three deep bays, each of which affords a good and secure anchorage. Upon the central promontory on this side the knights placed their town, which they called the Bourg, and their principal fort, St. Angelo. In the course of about twenty-five years other works were constructed : so that when the celebrated La Valette became Grand Master, in 1557, the defenses consisted of St. Angelo, already mentioned; Fort St. Michael, now better known as Senglea, upon a rocky promontory parallel with and partly commanding that of the Bourg; and Fort St. Elmo, on the point of Mount Scebberas.

La Valette, seems to have been a perfect incarnation of the military monastic idea, the beau ideal of the soldier monk. Deeply religious, with the unquestioning, uncompromising piety of his church; simple and temperate in his habits, though not ascetic to the enfeeblement of splendid physical powers; with intellect ample enough for the work of a commander and for the conduct of a purely military government ; intrepid in spirit, regarding his own or any other life only as an instrument for the performance of duty, he stands out as a true embodiment of a chivalry which was rapidly passing away. The Order was his life and his world. He had joined it as a youth of twenty, had aided in the defense of Rhodes, and had worked his way, step by step, to the supreme command. From the day of his first profession to that of his attaining the highest dignity, he never once left his convent, except when cruising against the Infidel. Such was the man upon whom devolved the dangerous honor of meeting the last Moslem attempt to crush the warriors of the Cross in the Mediterranean.

Intelligence of the assembling of a vast armament at Constantinople filled the maritime provinces of Southern Europe with alarm; but the Grand Master’s spies soon convinced him that Malta was the Sultan’s object, and that the scenes of Jerusalem, Acre, and Rhodes were about to be reënacted. La Valette was equal to the emergency. His stirring and pathetic appeal to the priories aroused the old crusading fire. Lavish supplies of money were sent by those who could not come in person, and the best and bravest of the knights flocked to Malta.

On the morning of the 18th of May, 1565, the Turkish fleet hove in sight: one hundred and thirty galleys, besides smaller craft and transports. The army consisted of thirty thousand men, five thousand of whom were Janizaries. They were well supplied with siege apparatus, being particularly strong in heavy artillery. Mustapha commanded the army and Piali the fleet, both veteran warriors. The defenders numbered about nine thousand, five hundred being knights. The siege continued for something less than four months, and the fighting was characterized on both sides by an unrelenting desperation which made its mark even upon those pitiless times. Never had the sensuous fanaticism of the Crescent and the devoted courage of the Cross exhibited in more terrible fashion the heroism of which both were productive. Among a crowd of incidents of battle, so numerous that they present a monotony of deadly strife, one seems to stand out in a preëminence of tragic interest.

The first efforts of the Turks were directed against Fort St. Elmo, upon Mount Scebberas. It was defended by about sixty knights and two hundred men-at-arms, augmented from time to time by supplies from the main fortifications to fifteen hundred men. Its reduction cost the Turks a month’s precious time and eight thousand of their choicest troops. They succeeded, after a time, in cutting off the communication with St. Angelo, and battering St. Elmo with their powerful artillery until it was a mere heap of ruins. Many were the desperate assaults that were repelled by the isolated garrison ; but each attack rendered the defenders weaker. At last the night came which was evidently to be the critical one. It was clear that on the next day the Turks must carry the ruined redoubt by sheer weight of numbers. Surrender was not even suggested. Nothing was left but to die like crusaders.

They assembled in the little chapel, where they confessed one another and received the sacrament. Weary with ceaseless vigil, worn out by constant effort, many of them wounded, the band of heroes for the last time consecrated themselves, their swords, and their lives to their holy cause; and then each man went to his post and waited. With the first blush of morning the Turks rushed upon them ; but so fierce was the struggle of utter despair that even then they were held in check for a while. But overwhelming odds bore them down ; quarter was neither asked nor given. In the confusion, a few of the Maltese men-at-arms plunged into the sea and escaped to the other side. With these exceptions they were all killed.

Mustapha’s reflections upon his first success seem to have resembled those of Pyrrhus on his victory over the Roman legions. When the Turkish commander entered St. Elmo, and looked from its ruined bastions across the harbor at the lofty ramparts of St. Angelo, he is said to have exclaimed, “ What will not the parent cost us, when the child has been gained at so fearful a price ! ”

Whether he really made such a remark or not, its thought was amply justified by the event. The attack and defense continued from day to day and from week to week, with a terribly reckless expenditure of life on the part of the Turks. At last, after the entire failure, on the 23d of August, of a more than usually comprehensive and carefully calculated assault, it was evident that the Turkish soldiers had lost heart, and could be no more led to those corpse-encumbered trenches and walls.

Within a few days came the tidings that a heavy force was on the way to relieve the beleaguered garrison. This concluded the matter. Although there was some fighting with the new comers, the siege was practically at an end. The Turks got on board their galleys and sailed away. Of the thirty thousand men who had in May landed at Malta, scarcely ten thousand found their way back to Constantinople. The losses of the Order were relatively quite as heavy. The Grand Master, when the siege was raised, could not number six hundred men in fighting condition. But the exultation of success and the prestige of this unparalleled defense were strong points in their favor. The name of the “ Bourg ” was changed to that of “ Città Vittoriosa,” in honor of their triumph. The effect of the great deliverance which thus crowned the valor and devotion of the Order was by no means confined to Malta. The security of every European throne and the peace of every European nation was confirmed by it. Very especially were the great commercial ports of the Mediterranean relieved of the constant dread of the approach of the Turkish galleys.

The attack on Malta was coincident with the highest point of the Mussulman power. When Solyman received the news of the collapse of his grand effort, and the shattered remnant of the once splendid armament were again assembled in the Golden Horn, he indeed resolved to renew the attempt, and passionately swore so to deal with Malta that not one stone should be left upon another ; but Solyman was now an old man, and years must elapse before an adequate force could again be brought together. The exhaustion of the resources of his empire was greater than he was perhaps aware of. His death, soon after, removed the greatest danger which had threatened Christendom for many years.

But La Valette and the knights were not men to leave anything to chance. The terrible experiences of the siege had shown them that the weakness of their position lay in the location of their principal fortifications. The loss of St. Elmo had given their enemy the advantage of occupying the commanding situation of Mount Scebberas. It was therefore determined to make that the chief point as speedily as possible.

The elastic power with which they recovered from apparently hopeless exhaustion and set to work upon fresh enterprises had always been one of their most brilliant characteristics. And never did this admirable quality appear in stronger relief or brighter colors than in their work upon the new city and its defenses. Plans were made, lines drawn, and workmen brought from well-nigh every town in Southern Europe ; and in a marvelously short time the barren expanse of yellow rock began to be encircled with an inclosure of rampart and fosse of immense solidity, depth, and strength, and within the lines churches, palaces, auberges, and humbler dwellings seemed to grow by magic. The original plan appears to have been to cut the entire hill down to a certain point, and to build the town upon the tableland thus secured. But information of the renewal of preparations for attack which were making at Constantinople induced them to give up this scheme as too expensive of time, and so the sloping sides were left.

To this circumstance is due one of the most curious and inconvenient features of Valetta. The streets running lengthwise, or from east to west, are level; but most of the cross - streets which lead to the harbors on both sides are stairways, only passable on foot; so that to reach the marina of the grand harbor, or the landing places of the Marsa Musceit, now known as the Quarantine harbor, a horseman or vehicle must make a détour of over a mile. Of course neither La Valette nor any of his generation lived to see the completion of the plans for the city.

A wonderful amount of work was accomplished in a short time ; but the town has gradually grown into the Valetta of our knowledge.

The defense of the island against Solyman’s attack may be said to be the last great feat of arms of the Order. They fought much at sea, and participated in almost all hostilities against the Turks for years afterwards; but the progress of events and the inevitable changes that accompanied it at last effected that which Arab, Saracen, and Turk had for five hundred years attempted in vain. The subsequent history is an exemplification of the old fable of the wind and the sun. As long as the Moslem was a powerful foe, worthy of their steel and demanding the ceaseless exercise of military prowess, the knights exhibited the soldier virtues in the highest degree of perfection. With the gradual decline of their enemy’s power came the decline of their military ardor.

This is strikingly evident in the pictures which adorn the walls of the palaces. Not only do we see, in the dress of the Grand Masters and high functionaries, the chain and mail superseded by velvet and gold, but the alteration is clearly perceptible in the countenances and expression of the wearers. A still stronger sign of this decadence of spirit is the manner in which the island came into the hands of the French. Napoleon, who was as able and calculating in diplomatic intrigue as he was prompt and masterful upon the field of battle, had fully informed himself of the condition of things at Malta. He knew the disaffection which existed amongst the knights towards the then Grand Master, and in 1797 French gold and French promises were lavishly employed to forward the work of corruption. Thus it came about that when, in 1798, he anchored off the mouth of the harbor, with that armament the exploits of which form so large a part of the history of Europe, the great fortress, many times stronger than the one from which the baffled forces of the Turk had retired, surrendered without even firing a shot. Pensions and rewards were distributed among the traitors. The event gives us one of those mocking contrasts of which history is so full : in 1565 the bleeding, exhausted defenders of St. Elmo, receiving the last sacrament by night, and then going to their posts to die in arms in the morning; in 1798 their successors, with swords undrawn, bargaining away their grand and glorious heritage for so much apiece. The French seem to have appreciated the situation. It is said that when Napoleon entered the gates General Caffarelli remarked to him, glancing at the massive defenses, “It is fortunate that we have some one to admit us, for we should never have got in of ourselves.”

The degenerate knights soon found that they had a conqueror as unscrupulous as the Turks. All the treasure was seized. The gold and silver decorations of churches, palaces, and auberges, the relics of five centuries of heroism, were swept away in a week. But the corruption which gave the island to the French was ultimately the cause of their losing it. Had it been fully victualed and stored, its final disposition might have been different. As it was, the French garrison, closely blockaded, were compelled by famine to capitulate, and in 1800 the British obtained possession. It was confirmed to them by the treaty of Paris in 1814. It may be predicted with some certainty that it will remain in English hands as long as modern means of attack and defense leave it its use and strength as a strategic point.

Its more immediate and modern interest is of a different character; redolent of Captain Marryat, King Teru, and Mr. Midshipman Easy. True, the remembrance of Napoleon, Nelson, Toulon, Aboukir, Sir Sydney Smith, Sir Ralph Abercrombie, and a crowd of other gallant names and stirring events, is full enough of fighting and chivalry, but of a very different kind of chivalry. In the ancient chronicles the element of humor and fun, which is so prominent and so attractive a feature in the later war narratives, seems entirely wanting. The mingling of the two lines of thought; the grafting, so to speak, of the nineteenth century and its ideas and personalities upon these grand and beautiful surroundings, so full of reminiscences of mediæval heroism, is one of the most fascinating experiences of travel in this part of the world. To people possessing any imagination at all, a visit to Malta is quite worth while, if for the mere sake of this novel sensation. But there is much to see and admire: the Cathedral of St. John, with its mosaic pavement, said to be the most perfect specimen of such work in the world ; the palaces of the Grand Masters, now occupied by the governor and other officers ; the auberges of the languages, now used as the regimental officers’ quarters, club-rooms, etc.; the Baracca, a court situated upon one of the highest points of the ramparts, open overhead, but surrounded by noble arches, and commanding a magnificent view of the grand harbor and the opposite towns and fortifications; the vast granaries, which will hold provisions for seven years: and then, outside of the towns, the exquisitely-kept walled gardens, oases in a desert of yellow stone, the earth for which was brought over from Sicily in boats; the “ casals,” or villages, each with its handsome church.

Some of these features deserve more than a passing mention ; the Baracca, especially. Either in the early morning, before the sun has had time to convert the entire city into a bake-shop, or about sunset, it forms a delightful promenade. Let us imagine ourselves enjoying it. At its western extremity we look over the parapet into the main ditch, cut sheer down into the rock for sixty feet. Take a few steps to its southern face, and below is the Grand Harbor, with the Mediterranean fleet, perhaps a dozen first-class men-of-war, at their moorings ; beyond, the dock and victualing yards, forts St. Angelo and Senglea, the towns of Bourgo and Burmola; further to the left, Righi Bay and the Naval Hospital, occupying the beautiful site which it is said Napoleon intended for his palace. Almost immediately beneath us is the marina, to which are moored feluccas and speronari, laden with grain and fruit from Sicily, and gayly painted native boats, somewhat of the gondola character and build, in abundance. Their owners and occupants are buying, selling, bargaining, quarreling, laughing, and gesticulating in various languages and dialects. They are handsome, well-made fellows, picturesquely dressed, and conduct their business with prodigious vehemence and noise. A perfect babel of tongues comes up to our ears from the scene. These people are good humored, but fiery tempered. Sometimes a knife will be drawn and a tragedy enacted, but not often.

Now walk to the other end, and we look over forts St. Elmo and Ricasoli, and through the narrow entrance out into the blue Mediterranean. Just below this end of the Baracca are the famous “ nix mangare stairs.” The legend of the origin of the title seems to be as follows: Like all Italian and semiItalian places, Malta has, or had, its share of beggars. The portion of the marina now under consideration is a much-frequented landing place, from the fact that it leads directly to one of the streets of stairs affording access to the centre of the town. It was, consequently, a favorite ground for young mendicants, who, looking as fat and jolly as may be, would appeal to the sympathies of the people landing in the somewhat polyglot formula, “ Nix madre, nix padre, nix mangare for six weeks, give me a copper, seineur.” The tradition also records that in order to be on hand betimes in the morning they would pass the night with great comfort by inserting their heads and shoulders into empty flour barrels, which stood near the head of the stairs ; but that when the British took possession of the island this pleasant arrangement was interrupted by unsympathetic midshipmen, who would send the barrels and their sleepy occupants bowling down the stairs, not to stop until they plunged into the harbor. As barrels and beggars could swim with equal facility, a wetting was the only result. Truth compels the admission that this is a legend of bygone times, as the beggars are now far less numerous, and the barrels have disappeared altogether.

Sometimes the prospect from this outlook is very different. Occasionally in the winter, the gregala, or easterly gale, blows directly into the harbor with great violence. Although the narrowness of the entrance to some extent breaks the force of the sea, and the government moorings are strong enough to hold the war ships secure, wrecks of smaller craft, accompanied by loss of life, have more than once occurred. A peculiarly distressing case of the kind happened about forty years ago. During a gregala of unusual severity, a Sicilian brig was observed trying to make the harbor. She was watched with painful interest from the battlements. To the great joy of the observers she succeeded in steering clear of the rocks on either side, and was driven at racing speed through the narrow entrance. A few minutes more would carry her well into the harbor, where she would be in comparative safety. Just at this juncture it is supposed that the steering gear broke ; at any rate, she swerved from her course, was caught broadside on by a tremendous sea, and in two minutes was smashed to pieces under Fort St. Angelo. The soldiers let themselves down with ropes, and risked their lives in trying to save the unfortunate crew, but without success.

A very noticeable feature of Valetta is the richness and taste displayed in the architectural ornamentation of many of the buildings. This lavish adornment is accounted for by the fact that the inhabitants, mostly the knights and those associated with them, had no other employment for their wealth. This peculiarity makes Strada Reale, the principal thoroughfare, one of the most quaint and beautiful streets in the world.

The winter climate of Malta is very pleasant, not unlike that of our own Florida. But after the month of May there is a very different state of things. When the latitude and the vicinity of the parched African deserts are remembered, the atmospheric conditions may be imagined. Between May and October the sun pours down with almost tropical intensity. The streets, pavements, and houses are made of the yellow stone of which the whole island is composed. The ground becomes so hot as to be painful to Northern feet; the brilliant yellow of the houses reflects the burning glow; and the sirocco, laden with a fine, impalpable, but distressing sand, frequently adds its contribution to the general exasperation. It is evident that these conditions prompted the rather profane lines of Byron : —

Nothing could bear stronger testimony to the energy and purpose of the knights than the fact that they maintained their vigor and enterprise in spite of such a terribly depressing climate. At present it is only those whose official duties compel them to remain who brave the summer heats. The fleet disperses to its various stations ; the yachts sail away in search of coolness; the invalids go back to England, and of a summer afternoon Valetta is as deserted and silent as a fashionable street in an Eastern city during the same season. But for the rest of the year, or between November and May, there are few places pleasanter than Malta. The most insatiable appetite for gayety will for once find enough. The evenings present an unceasing round of entertainment. Balls at the palace, in the club-rooms, on board the ships, and at the regimental quarters, private parties, and the opera — where, by the way, several have made their début who afterwards became stars — take up every night, from Monday to Saturday, both inclusive. The frequent effect of all this upon the duties of Sunday may he gathered from the following conversation, overheard en route to church : —

“ Good morning, Colonel——! Beautiful day, is n’t it ? ”

“ Charming, madam. Are the young ladies with you this morning?”

“ Well, no. You see they were out every night last week, and I thought they had better rest to-day.”

There is one peculiarity of Malta society which is a little inconvenient,— the great preponderance of men. But even this has its advantages, rendering it a perfect paradise for “ wall-flowers.” Ladies who have been decidedly passées at Chatham, Portsmouth, Plymouth, and wherever else officers do congregate, at Malta can renew, if not their youth, at any rate that consequence of it which makes them eagerly sought as partners in the dance. When the introductions are performed and the centre cleared; when the floor is admirable, and the band begins a waltz with that perfection of accentuation and time which long experience alone can give; when young ladies are scarce, and the wearers of epaulets are eagerly scanning their dance cards, what difference does a few years one way or the other make ?

But amusement is not confined to the evening. In the afternoon a regimental band plays at the Pietá, half an hour’s drive from Valetta, and picnics are always in order. These are of two kinds. One is managed thus : Permission is obtained for the use of the Verdalla, one of the governor’s country palaces, about twelve miles from Valetta. To this point a band and a champagne luncheon are conveyed. The company proceed thither in carriages and on horseback ; wander about the valley made beautiful by landscape gardening, and known as the Boschetto Garden ; lunch ; and then dance until sunset. The short twilight soon fades, and they ride home by moonlight.

The other kind is more rural and unsophisticated. There is a wonderful conveyance, dear to the memory of all sojourners at Malta, known as a “go-cart.” It is mounted on two wheels, and generally drawn by a small, vixenish-looking pony. It usually carries three. Two ladies recline on the gayly covered mattress, with their heads and shoulders towards the driver, who sits in front, but sideways, so that he can handle the “ribbons” and talk to the occupants, whose heads, it will be seen, are close by his elbow. A dozen or so of these vehicles, one being in charge of a native with the provisions, a few outriders, and perhaps a mamma or two in a more sober and elderly carriage and pair, will furnish the materials for as merry an afternoon as one is likely to pass. The roads are excellent, if somewhat dusty ; the ponies make good pace. Perhaps they go to St. Paul’s Bay, where they will hear rather astonishing versions of the Apostle’s shipwreck, and will be able to buy, at a surprisingly small charge, relics of that event; perhaps to Citta Vecchia, or some other point, where there is a fountain of cool water and a delightful grove of orange-trees: but whatever may be the destination, the event and its memory will be charming.

Sometimes a more adventurous group of pleasure-seekers will charter a boat and go round to the neighboring island of Gozo. The sea-breeze is somewhat fresher, the surroundings are not quite so arid and stony, and the soula, or native clover, is particularly rich and beautiful upon this island. Here the delights of donkey-riding can be had for a small outlay. Upon a detached rock, separated from the main-land by about three hundred feet, grows a curious red fungus, to obtain which one is hauled over in a box slung on ropes, some fifty feet above the sea.

The sea, after all, is the great charm of Malta, and especially at night. There is perhaps nothing which satisfies the combined sense of beauty and rest more completely than a couple of moonlight hours in a boat in the harbor. Architecture is improved by moonlight, and the rule applies with peculiar force here. The softening of all the harsher features of the landscape, the extreme clearness of the atmosphere, the deep blue of the sea and sky, the coolness after the sultry hours of the day, seem to produce the very essence of the dolce far niente. The native Maltese are well aware of this, and itinerant orchestras— most of the people are musical — will come alongside the ships, just as we see the German bands in our streets. Some of these improvised bands are poor enough; others are exceptionally good.

The recollection of this custom brings an old story to mind. The English were blockading Toulon. It was hard service. Provisions were running short. The whole fleet was storm-worn and battered ; but some of the ships were leaky and strained to the point of danger. So a squadron of the worst cases was detached, placed under the command of a flag officer of conspicuous energy and determination, and ordered to Malta with all possible speed, there to refit and return with provisions and stores. The admiral dipped his colors to the commander-in-chief, and made sail for Malta. Steam navigation was unknown in those days. All went well until he was within a day’s sail of the island, when a gregala caught him in the teeth, and blew him half-way hack to Toulon. At length the wind shifted, and once more he steered for Malta. Again he was baffled by the wind ; but finally got into the harbor about the time he should have been back at Toulon with the biscuit, beef, and rum for the fleet. British naval commanders are not, as a general rule, distinguished for the sweetness of their tempers at the best of times; and it will be readily imagined that this officer did not enter Malta harbor in an especially Christian frame of mind. But he went at his work like one of the old Grand Masters. No sooner were the anchors down than carpenters, riggers, caulkers, and every description of artificer that could be brought to bear upon the repairs were set to work. In the midst of the confusion and racket the governor’s barge was reported. The guard was turned out, and the high functionary was received with all appropriate ceremonies. But the work did not cease for a moment. When the formalities were over the governor stepped into the admiral’s cabin, and there were a few minutes’ more familiar conversation. The caulkers were making a pandemonium of deafening noise overhead; but between the strokes of their mallets could be heard occasionally the strains of an itinerant band of music. The governor, roaring to make himself heard, said, —

“ My dear admiral, do come to the palace for a few days’ rest.”

“ Rest, sir! ” snarled the old salt. “ I ’ve got too much to do, to think about rest.”

“ Well, then, just get into my barge, and come on shore for an hour or two, out of all this horrid noise.”

“ Noise, sir ! I don’t hear any noise, except those d——d fiddlers under the stern.”

The devotion of everybody to dancing is worthy of the occupants of the home of the Knights of St. John. The last ball of the season is given at the palace in honor of Her Majesty’s birthday. It is kept in the month of May. It is a full-dress affair: the uniform coats are buttoned to the chin. It will be the last waltz; and although the atmosphere reminds one of the Black Hole of Calcutta, there is no flinching. Next week the fleet will be gone, and sirocco and silence will settle down upon the city. “ On with the dance,” though the labor is severe.

But Malta has other inhabitants besides British officials and their families. The native population deserve more notice than is usually accorded them. They are mostly very poor,—so poor that the English penny is divided into twelfths, called “ grains,” for their benefit ; but they are industrious, hardy, and frugal. They are of Arab stock, qualified in the harbor towns with a large admixture of Italian. This is observable in the language. In Valetta it is a mingling of Italian and Arabic; but in the outlying casals, the Arab tongue predominates. The peasantry of the country are home-loving and affectionate in their families; very ignorant and very pious. A large percentage of their hardearned wages is given to the church. One of the things that most strikes a visitor is the number and size of the churches and the multiplicity of priests. An interesting and remarkable instance of this spirit of devotion may be seen in the village of Musta. Here there is a large, new, and beautiful church. Not many years ago there was a smaller one upon the same site. The problem of how to rebuild was solved thus : The money that could be collected from the villagers was altogether insufficient for the purpose ; so they procured their plans, the foundation of the new edifice was laid, and the lines were drawn outside the walls of the old one. The people gave their labor as they could afford it, and in this way, little by little, the building rose. To stand on the unfinished dome, look down upon the church beneath, and hear the chanting of vespers was a unique experience. At last it was finished, and the old church was dismantled, pulled down, and carried out piecemeal.

The Maltese are good sailors and boatmen. Many of them make a living by serving the naval officers’ messes in the capacity of “ bum boatmen.” This is an arduous business, and in pursuing it they exhibit many excellent qualities. Their memory is wonderful. They can neither read nor write, but they will recollect and execute accurately a marvelous number of small commissions. Then they are good-tempered and obliging. Of liberty, in our sense of the term, they have not much idea. Inheriting a long pedigree of servitude, accustomed to nothing but domination,— military, ecclesiastical, and atmospheric, — they seem to thrive under it. They are very fond of and have a deep veneration for religious processions, and keep the various “ festas ” and fasts of the church with exemplary devotion. One outcome of their piety is distressing to strangers. All the churches have bells which are not swung and rung in the ordinary manner, but either beaten with a hammer from outside, or sounded by a rope attached to the clapper. This bell ringing, or rather hammering, is an essential part of the Maltese idea of worship. None can be carried on without it. Matins, vespers, festas, fasts, weddings, funerals, — all must have plenty of bell. As there is no attempt at chimes, or musical arrangement of any kind, and as, especially during Lent, they begin very early in the morning, the effect may be imagined.

There used to be a personage more or less familiar to residents at Malta, very distinct from the English officials, from the seekers after pleasure and the seekers after health,—distinct, too, from the native population, — whom it is to be hoped may never be seen there again. When Ferdinand of Naples was outraging humanity by his cruel and perfidious persecution of the men whom he had solemnly sworn to protect and respect; when the best and purest spirits in his kingdom were chained to the floor in loathsome dungeons, for the crime of attempting to secure constitutional liberty for themselves and their countrymen; when Italy was in the throes of revolution ; when Garibaldi was gathering about him the fiery youth of a people driven to desperation, Malta was often the resting-place of the Italian refugee. Gallant and worthy gentlemen, who had been reared in wealth and refinement, were giving lessons in French and Italian, and living in stifling garrets in Valetta upon the pittance they could earn. Happier times have come. We see a new Italy, flushed with all the ideas of modern progress, and buoyant with hopes of a yet brighter future. The recent mention of Malta as the possible pontifical residence — or refuge — suggests an impressive turning of the tables.

That it should be chosen as the seat of that great spiritual government which is accused, with such fierceness of vehemence, of making common cause with all that is tyrannical and oppressive would afford another instance of the vicissitudes of the history with which the island is so strikingly associated.

J. M. Hillyar.