We left for Malta, which was reached in two days, and cast anchor in
the harbor of Valetta, the capital. The island is celebrated as the
home of the Knights of Malta, the original birth-place of the Maltese
cat, and the spot where the Maltese cross was invented--but not
patented. This island was conquered by the Romans 259 B.C.; afterward
by Napoleon, from whom it was taken by England in 1800, and now indeed
it's "quite English, you know." Oh my! how English it is, to be sure!
It's nothing but Tommy Atkins here, and Files-on-parade there;
battle-ships "beyant," and cruisers in the "offin'," mixed up with
gunboats and bumboats and "gund_u_las," till you would think you were
standing on the pier at "Suthampton."
The marine bands mostly play _Rule Britannia_, but some of them essay
_Annie Laurie_, and when these airs get mixed, it would try the soul of
Richard Wagner to stand the discord without resorting to profanity.
Anyway, Mr. Bull has this island all to himself. Its fortifications
and harbor are the finest to be found on the globe, but how sad to
think they have been rendered useless by the modern battle-ship with
the long guns. (I was going to say the "long greens," as they and
battle-ships always go together, no matter who pays the taxes.) But
still it charms the visitor with its fine climate and gay people. It
was Carnival Day when we arrived, and the motley crowds in the street,
in variegated raiment, pelted the "Corks" with all kinds of flowers
with the utmost good humor.
There is a church on the water-front that is lined with the skulls and
bones of the various armies of defenders: its name is "Old Bones,"
which certainly bears out its character.
A whole lot might be written about how the Knights of Malta became very
great, then very small and degenerate, and finally were pushed into the
discard by the relentless hands of time and public opinion. Valetta
has quite a number of people living there besides the soldiers and
sailors, some 80,000 I believe, but most of them are tired of climbing
the steep streets, many of which contain stairs. Lord Byron, having a
game foot, got angry at them when he wrote:
"Adieu, ye cursèd streets of stairs,
How surely he who mounts you swears!"
We were shown the spot where St. Paul was ship-wrecked. The Maltese
erected a colossal statue to Paul on Selmoon Island about fifty years
ago. They hold an annual feast there on February 10th, the alleged
date of his shipwreck, and as they have two hundred additional feast
days they have just one hundred and sixty-four days left for their
regular business--loafing. They have novel names for their hotels and
saloons,--the "Sea and Land Hotel," "The Pirates' Roost" saloon, the
"Quick Fire" lunch-room, "The Englishers' Chop-House," and "The Camel's
Drink," are some examples. Not from greed, but purely out of
curiosity, mind you, we tested the latter, and it would have taken
three of what they gave us to make a regular "Waldorf highball." Thus
does the retributive principle of temperance put the rod in pickle for
those who would fool with its beneficent laws.