CHAPTER III.

The Maltese Group.--Comino.--Cave Life.--Verdant Gozo.--Isle

of Filfla.--Curious Lizards.--Loss of an Ironclad.--Mysterious

Wheel-Tracks.--Earthquakes.--Population.--Military Depot.--

Youthful Soldiers.--Quarantine.--Arrival of the Knights.--

Immorality.--Harbor Defenses.--Land Fortifications.--Charming

Photographic View.--The Stars and Stripes Abroad.--The Eight-

Pointed Maltese Cross.--Peculiar Sunset Scene.

We speak of Malta in the singular, which is the conventional form;

official documents say Malta and its dependencies, it being the name

which is also most commonly used to designate the capital; but it should

be understood that the Maltese group consists of three considerable

islands, namely, Malta, Gozo, and Comino. The latter lies midway in the

channel which separates the other two. Comino is nearly circular,

measures four miles across its surface, and contains some large and

curious caves, also a fort which was built in 1618. There are a few huts

in which the poor peasants reside, who labor on the soil, and send

fabulous numbers of watermelons to Valletta. It would seem that this

circumscribed bit of earth, or, more properly speaking, rock, breaking

the surface of the Straits of Freghi, was formerly considered to be of

more importance than it is in our day. One ancient author mentions it

under another name, that of Hephaestia, which means the island of Vulcan.

In the Middle Ages Comino was a very nest of Saracen pirates. Up to the

beginning of the present century, the special advantage of the group for

the promotion of illegitimate commerce has been its curse. Malta was the

synonym of piracy from the earliest times,--a reputation which, as we

have seen, the Knights of St. John did nothing to improve. Speaking in

plain terms, they were the most pronounced and successful corsairs who

ever sailed these waters, and were unmolested by the Western Powers

because their piracy was conducted under the pretense of fighting only

the infidels, and in behalf of Christianity. In our day we invade

Central Africa under pretense of suppressing the slave trade; but in the

days of this warlike order, its principal source of income was derived

from the capture of Asiatics, whom the Knights sold into slavery, or

retained in that condition.

There is said to be ample evidence that the numerous caves of Comino

were formerly improved as domestic dwelling-places by the primitive

inhabitants. Their partial inaccessibility probably caused them to be

used as safe retreats when the group was invaded by a foreign enemy.

Where natural caves existed in the early days of our race upon this

earth, they were nearly always utilized as shelter for human beings, and

doubtless artificial ones were created, it being the readiest mode of

obtaining a domestic shelter. The Spanish gipsies of Granada follow this

plan even to-day, on the banks of the swift-flowing Darro, not to speak

in detail of the numerous cliff-dwellers of Behring Strait, where Asia

and America come so nearly together.

There is a cave between Comino and Cominetto, the entrance to which is

accomplished by boat, not without considerable difficulty. When once

within, however, and the eyes become accustomed to the gloom which

pervades the place, the cave is found to open out into proportions of

considerable magnitude. At the further extremity nature has formed a

beautiful little gravelly beach, on which the lazy waves ebb and flow

gracefully and softly. Geologists visit this cavern with much interest,

as the sides teem with the remains of marine creatures which lived and

died in the waters when these islands were gradually undergoing the

process of formation. There are scores of smaller caves on Cominetto,

and also on Comino. It was in the cavernous formations of the south side

of the main island of the Maltese group that Dr. Adams found the

interesting animal remains about which he has written so ably. These

tokens of past ages, concerning which we have no other record, exist in

nearly all parts of the globe. In the Ozark Mountains, near Galena,

Missouri, is a cavern larger than the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky, which

has been explored for thirty miles in a nearly straight line. In this

Missouri cave, bones of prehistoric animals have also been found.

It may be said truthfully that there are few places which surpass Malta

in antiquarian interest.

Gozo is about one fifth the size of the main island which gives the

group its name. The circumference of the three islands is a trifle less

than one hundred miles. The shores, much worn and still wearing away by

the ceaseless action of the waters, give evidence of having been

considerably more extended at no distant period of time. Two uninhabited

islets, besides Gozo and Malta proper, complete the list of the group;

these are Cominetto and Filfla. The first, as its name indicates, nearly

joins Comino; the latter, containing the ruins of an ancient stone

church, is situated three or four miles from Malta on its southern side.

It is a very small islet, being only six hundred yards in circumference.

Filfla, from the Arabic word _filfel_, means a peppercorn, and the place

is thus called on account of its diminutive size. The name of each

inlet, headland, and reef along the coast is Arabic.

Besides the islands which we have cited, there are some small rocks,

having sufficient soil upon them to afford a gleam of animal and

vegetable life, but which are rarely if ever trodden by the foot of man.

Sometimes the hardy fishermen spread their nets from the most available;

but this work is generally pursued from boats and at points further from

land. There are certain species of shell-fish, including the patella,

lobsters, and crabs, which so abound on the circumscribed shore of

anvil-shaped Filfla, that fishermen come hither regularly to obtain

them. The phosphorescent jelly-fish, that glow-worm of the sea, lies

upon the surface near the shore in shoals, with here and there a blue

and rose-tinted starfish. The stormy petrel, the manx, and the white

sea-gulls build their nests amid the rocks of Filfla. The gathering of

coral was formerly a successful business hereabouts, but it is now

abandoned as not being sufficiently profitable. Oysters are also found

near the shore, and form a considerable source of food supply for the

common people; but the Mediterranean oyster does not recommend itself to

one accustomed to the superior product in the same line found on the

American coast. This bivalve of the narrow sea is often transported in

considerable quantities inland to Rome, where it does not always prove

harmless to strangers, though the digestive organs of the natives seem

quite able to grapple with it. The author was once seriously poisoned by

eating "oysters on the shell," at Nazzari's famous restaurant, near the

corner of the Via Condotti, in Rome.

As regards this island of Filfla, it gives us a wealth in numbers and an

astonishing variety of forms representing marine life, including sea

anemones, sea urchins, and so on, together with some small shells almost

as lovely as flowers. Men-of-war cruising in these waters use the island

as a target, and fragments of shot and shell consequently abound upon

its surface. Naturalists tell us of a peculiar species of lizard found

on this islet, quite different from anything of the sort to be seen on

the larger islands, "beautiful bronze-black creatures, quite tame, and

much more agile than their brethren on the mainland." So off the harbor

of Bombay, the author has seen on the island of Elephanta remarkable

beetles, unlike any of the species to be found elsewhere. They are

scarcely larger than one's little-finger nail, but nature has clothed

them in harlequin attire, combining golden, steel-blue, and pink. These

tiny creatures have prominent eyes, like a King Charles spaniel, which

seem to gaze at one with something like human intelligence. The question

naturally suggests itself, where can a distinctive species of animal

life have been derived and developed after this fashion, in these

isolated spots? Is this the outcome of some not understood principle of

evolution, beginning as vegetable, and developing into animal life? That

the earth produces the former spontaneously we know, and that it may

gradually, in the course of ages, become endowed with the latter has

been declared possible by scientists. In our museums we see fossil

organisms which exhibit in nearly consecutive order the slow evolution

of both animals and plants. By this means palaeontologists have been able

to connect some of our present mammals, through intermediary forms, with

their tertiary ancestors in primitive conditions.

Leaving the field of conjecture to scientists, let us resume the course

of our Maltese story.

It is believed that at a comparatively modern date, geologically

speaking, the islands of Malta and Gozo were joined together by the

island of Comino. Deep wheel-ruts worn in the rocky surface on the

opposite shores of the two nearest islands, visible even at some

distance under the water, afford what is considered to be unmistakable

evidence that the intervening straits have been formed recently, or that

the sea was once so shallow here as to be easily fordable by wheeled

vehicles. These wheel-tracks are particularly observable at Marfa,

whence passengers take boat for Gozo, but they are also found in other

places, where the connection is wholly obliterated. On the edge of the

shore, to the north of the Bay of Fom-er-Rich, wheel-ruts are to be seen

terminating abruptly at the brink of a cliff one hundred feet high,

which rises sheer from out of the sea. This shows clearly that some

tremendous upheaval, subsidence, or both, must have taken place here

within historic times.

Though the Straits of Freghi are now many fathoms deep, navigation is

somewhat intricate. A first-class British iron-clad was wrecked here in

1889, by striking upon a sunken rock. In very stormy weather

communication between the islands is wholly cut off, but this rarely

occurs. The shore in this vicinity is fringed by long, black, straggling

ledges, the most dangerous portions of which are exposed only in stormy

weather, when the dark, sea-worn rocks raise their heads and stoutly

resist the onslaught of the waves, sending aloft transparent masses of

white spray. When the sun escapes from the clouds and penetrates this

watery ebullition, momentary rainbows bind the moistened atmosphere

together with a lovely arch of prismatic hues.

Careful soundings show that the Maltese group stands upon a submarine

plateau, which stretches entirely across the Mediterranean from Sicily

to Africa, thus dividing the sea into two parts, known to geographers as

the eastern and western basins.

Malta, so far as an unscientific person may speak, shows no signs of

volcanic action, though there is a powerful agent of this character so

near in Sicily. At the present writing AEtna is in a condition of wild

physical turmoil, forming new fissures near its summit, out of which the

much-dreaded fiery lava is flowing rapidly, while the main crater is by

no means idle. Nothing can stem the tide of these rushing rivers of

molten rock, which have cut themselves fresh channels for miles,

extending to the sea. The last outbreak occurred in the early part of

1865, continuing with more or less force for a period of three months.

In 1669, one of these eruptions, besides costing hundreds of human

lives, destroyed twenty-two towns and villages, on its mad course to the

seaport of Catania, where the lava rushed into the Mediterranean in a

stream eighteen hundred feet in width and forty feet in height! This

extraordinary statement is in accordance with the local chronicles of

the time. It was perhaps the most violent and destructive eruption of

which we have any record; many have been slight and harmless. This

latter fact accounts for the hardihood of the Sicilians in continuing to

plant vineyards and farms within reach of this great subterranean

furnace. So the people of Torre del Greco, at the foot of restless

Vesuvius, ignore past experience, and all former outbreaks of the

mountain which destroyed Pompeii.

In the absence of late and reliable statistics upon the subject, the

present population of the Maltese group may be safely assumed as about a

hundred and seventy-five thousand, of which number one half centre in

and about Valletta. Borgo, Senglea, and Burmulo, on the opposite side of

the harbor, eastward from the capital, are populous suburbs of the city,

and contain many well-built stone edifices, but none to compare with

those of the city proper. These suburbs are the residence of an humbler

class of the community than those who live in Valletta. The estimate

which is given above as to the population of the group includes the

English garrison, which seldom amounts to less than six thousand men. A

brigade of infantry is always kept here upon a war footing, known as the

"Indian Contingent." The whole number of troops at the present time, in

and about the capital, is eight thousand of all arms. In case of another

Indian mutiny, which would surely follow an invasion by Russia, England

could draw at once from this source. The troops at Malta would be

already half way toward their objective point, if ordered to Calcutta or

Bombay.

Her Majesty's government also maintains an infantry regiment one

thousand strong, whose ranks are filled by natives of the islands, a

policy which is also adopted to a large extent in India, and more or

less in all English dependencies. Even in Hong Kong, the large body of

men who constitute the local police are Sikhs brought from India for

this special service. They are tall, dark, fine-looking men, with heavy

beards. The Maltese regiment just spoken of is a good-looking body of

well-drilled men, though lacking the _esprit de corps_ of English-born

soldiers. This regiment is officered by Englishmen, and is called the

Royal Maltese Fencibles, being mostly employed to man the outlying forts

of the group.

We may be permitted a few words upon the subject of the garrison of

Malta. One watches with special interest the soldiery of various

nationalities. The author has seen the representatives of the English

army in Egypt, China, Ceylon, Aden, and in all of the colonies of Great

Britain except those of Africa. The men are, on an average, far too

youthful for military service. Such boyish applicants would not pass

examination for enlistment in our American army as we find enrolled in

the English regiments here. Large numbers are under seventeen years.

Even Lord Wolseley, in a late published report, admits this glaring

defect of the British service. In round numbers, the English army

consists of two hundred and ten thousand men of all arms, half of which

number is kept at home, that is, in England, while over seventy thousand

are stationed in India, and thirty-two thousand in various colonies. The

empire of India is an expensive plaything, which the people of Great

Britain support for the amusement of the Queen and the pride of the

nation. The seventy thousand soldiers distributed over that widespread

territory are hardly able to keep the natives in subjection. To

maintain her grasp upon India, as we all know, has cost England rivers

of blood and mountains of treasure, though she has no more legitimate

right to possess the land than she has to Norway and Sweden.

Sweeping pestilence and frequent wars have not seemed to interfere

materially with the rapid increase of the population of Malta.

Visitations of the cholera and the plague have at different times

created great havoc with human life in the group. So late as 1813,

thousands of the inhabitants fell victims to the much-dreaded plague,

brought hither from the East, where the seeds of the scourge seem to be

only slumbering when they are not bringing forth fatal fruit. The local

records of the devastation of the plague in Malta are terribly forlorn,

dreary, and saddening, and characterized by the calmness and dignity of

despair. Since that experience, strict quarantine measures have been

enforced, especially toward vessels coming from Egypt. Many travelers

who have visited this group of islands have been obliged to pass a

fortnight or more in the lazaretto before being permitted to land in the

capital, while others, rather than submit to the trying discipline of

quarantine, have given up their purpose of doing so.

Untraveled readers can hardly realize the discomforts and annoyances

caused by quarantine laws, against the necessity of which no intelligent

person will attempt to argue. Late experience upon our own coast,

especially in New York harbor, proves not only their importance, but

also their efficacy, though they sometimes, in individual cases, operate

with seemingly unnecessary hardship. Sir Walter Scott, in describing his

detention at the lazaretto in Malta, tells us of an accident which

occurred, illustrating the rigid enforcement of quarantine rules. It

seems that a foremast hand on board the ship which had brought him

hither fell from the yardarm into the sea. The fellow struggled

manfully, being a good swimmer. Several native boats, which were near at

hand, promptly steered in another direction, but an English boat's crew,

belonging to a ship in the harbor, pulled as swiftly as possible towards

the struggling seaman and rescued him from the water. For this act of

humanity, the boat's crew was ordered into quarantine for a week. By

saving the life of the sailor who had fallen from the ship which was in

quarantine, they had run the risk of contamination!

On one occasion, while in South America, it was the author's misfortune

to be at Rio Janeiro when the yellow fever was raging there. He was

bound southward to Montevideo, but no ship going thither would receive

passengers, lest the vessel should be quarantined. Passage was therefore

taken northward to Bahia, Brazil, which was not a prohibited port,

though yellow fever was found to exist there, also. Thence the Pacific

Mail Steamship took us south again to the mouth of the Plate

River,--_Rio de la Plata_,--passing, but not entering, the harbor of

Rio. Thus one was compelled to travel by sea over two thousand miles

for no possible purpose save to avoid being quarantined at Montevideo.

The cholera swept away several thousands of the Maltese in 1837, again

in 1853, and once more so late as 1887. It will be observed that there

exists a serious drawback in the location of the group. It is so

situated, midway between the East and the West, as to be the victim of

all such epidemics as are liable to be conveyed through the ordinary

channels of commerce.

When the Knights of St. John first landed in Malta there were but twelve

thousand inhabitants here. The Knights were soon followed by a

considerable number of their former subjects in Rhodes, many of whom

had, like themselves, been wanderers since they were driven from that

island by the Turks. The order was still popular and wealthy, enjoying a

princely revenue from various continental sources, as well as from the

rich prizes which they constantly captured from the Ottomans, from

roving Greeks, and from Barbary pirates. The proceeds of these captures

were expended with a lavish hand among the Maltese people, diffusing

plenty and comfort throughout the islands. This material prosperity soon

stimulated immigration from various Mediterranean ports, and called home

many who had endeavored to improve their fortunes by seeking occupation

elsewhere. The natives were treated with great liberality by their

monkish rulers. No taxes were demanded of them, while they were in

constant receipt of money from the plethoric treasury of the Knights.

There was occupation for all, and fair remuneration for the same. Never

before, as far as we know, had the sunshine of prosperity so smiled upon

these isolated shores. The period to which we refer is regarded as the

golden age of Maltese history. The most intelligent of the present

inhabitants are never tired of referring to the period when the white

cross of St. John floated proudly over the castle of St. Elmo.

It was indeed the golden age, speaking in a worldly sense, but not in a

spiritual one; yet the average Maltese not only sympathizes with the

profession of these Knights, but even indorses their daily lives, public

and private, which would not bear for one moment the conventional test

of our modern civilization. It would seem as though the virtue and honor

of Maltese wives and daughters counted for nothing, in this wholesale

opinion of the period covered by the sovereignty of the order, and that

the natives of that day ignored all sense of self-respect in their

estimate of the value of pecuniary prosperity as compared with the

sacredness of domestic purity. Women were bartered for like merchandise;

personal attractions formed the criterion of their market value, while

there was not even the pretense on the part of the Knights of keeping

their priestly vows as celibates, by which every member of the

fraternity of St. John was supposed to be bound. Women came voluntarily

and openly from Italy, France, Spain, and England to trade upon their

charms, added to whose number were those of their sex captured from the

harems of the Mohammedans. Among the native women, little regard was

paid to marital ties, and virtue among them was scarcely a recognized

idea. We may be sure that the vile example set before them by those to

whom they were taught to look up as their superiors was not without its

evil influence. Lewdness is as contagious as typhus fever, and vice

spreads like oil upon the water. We penetrate uncivilized countries and

affiliate with barbaric tribes, who, following some strange instinct of

the race, promptly adopt our vices, but are slow to imitate such of the

virtues as we assume, if we have them not. It is not pleasant to dwell

upon such a theme, but contemporary writers tell us that these islands

became the scandal of Europe, and the popular resort of titled

libertines, many of whom joined the Knights, who were then at the height

of their material prosperity.

Let us draw the curtain upon such matters, which have necessarily been

considered, and turn to such as are more attractive. Of these we shall

find a teeming abundance from which to choose in this _Fior del Mondo_.

The charmingly picturesque capital, Valletta, surrounded at all times by

a quaint Oriental atmosphere, lies on the north shore of the island, at

its nearest point to Sicily, upon a promontory extending a considerable

distance into the bay. For the sake of completeness, its exact position

is given: longitude 14 deg. 31'; latitude 35 deg. 53' north. The port

consists of two spacious land-locked bays, known as Quarantine Harbor

and Grand Harbor. The entrance to both is commanded by the massive white

battlements of Fort St. Elmo, supplemented by Fort Ricasoli on the one

hand, and Fort Tigne on the other. Each of the three fortifications now

bristles with threatening cannon of modern construction,--"the

red-mouthed orators of war." The two harbors, forming a double port, are

each subdivided into small bays, creeks, and indentures, which are well

adapted to naval and commercial purposes, for which they are improved,

all being embraced within the elaborate lines of the marine

fortifications.

Grand Harbor contains the naval hospital, arsenal, dock-yard, and

custom-house, with Fort St. Angelo inside and Fort Ricasoli at the

entrance. Quarantine Harbor has at its mouth Fort Tigne, while within is

Fort Mangel and Lazaretto Island. The landing designed for the mail

steamships is also here. The lazaretto is the most perfect of any

arrangement of the kind in Europe. The tongue of land upon which the

city stands is a narrow, rocky peninsula, dividing, as we have said, the

two harbors, so that Fort Ricasoli at the entrance of Grand Harbor, Fort

St. Elmo upon the point of the peninsula, and Fort Tigne at the mouth of

Quarantine Harbor are all on a line at the sea front, and are capable of

repelling the approach of any ship afloat. A bird's-eye view of the

topography of the port of Valletta is at first a little confusing to a

stranger, but its plan soon becomes clear, and the object of its

arrangement is realized. It is then seen that the natural facilities

have been admirably adapted to the general purpose by skilled engineers.

We do not hesitate to say that there is not a more complete system of

fortifications extant, in any part of the world, than the cordon of

defensive structures at Malta. The forts of the harbor, however, form

but a portion of the vast system of fortifications which completely

surround Valletta. Such a gigantic amount of heavy stone-work as they

represent could only be erected where the material was abundant and the

labor cheap. The stone excavated in sinking the deep ditches was used in

raising the escarps; and as to the necessary labor, that was done by the

army of slaves retained on the island by the Knights. When they were not

confined at the oars of the galleys, they were compelled to labor in

erecting these elaborate defenses. Like the Egyptian builders of the

Pyramids, the order was obliged to feed these workmen; but beyond that

expense their services cost nothing.

While the Maltese capital bears, appropriately, the name of the Grand

Master who originated and promoted its construction, these defensive

works, so remarkable and so perfect in their character from a soldier's

point of view, should perpetuate the name of Jerome Cassan, the

accomplished engineer of the order, who designed them, and under whose

able superintendence they were erected. No wonder they call forth the

admiration of all military officers who visit the place. Immense sums of

money and incalculable toil were lavished upon the undertaking,

regardless of any probable necessity for the expenditure. So far as the

science of military defense goes, it would seem as though perfection had

been reached when Chevalier Cassan finished his original plans; but each

new Grand Master of the Knights seems to have thought it to be his duty

to increase the number of forts, giving to the addition his own name, by

which each section thus constructed is still known. Exposed points on

the coast of both Malta and Gozo were fortified from time to time, until

there were no unprotected bays or inlets left. For centuries before this

was done, piratical invasions were frequently made by small Algerine or

Turkish expeditions landing at unfortified points. A score or two of

armed men were able to ravage a whole district, and carry off half a

hundred families to be sold into slavery. The Turkish and Algerine war

fleets were almost entirely manned at the oars by captives thus secured.

When these soldier-priests first took possession of the islands, there

was but one fort at Malta, namely, that of St. Angelo, which hardly

deserved to be called a fort. To-day, as we have shown, there is no

unprotected point on the entire coast line of the group. Modern

instruments of warfare have revolutionized the requirements of defensive

works, and many of these elaborate structures, it must be admitted, are

hardly appropriate to our times. Malta is the equal of Gibraltar in a

military point of view, though the fortifications of neither are

absolutely impregnable. Of the latter, it may be said that nature

prepared the place for man's adaptation; but as regards the former, art

alone has produced an unequaled amphitheatre of fortifications. On the

land side Valletta is protected by a labyrinth of marvelous ditches and

ramparts, many of which are cut out of the solid rock, besides having

vast chambers, or caves, of the same substantial character, designed for

the safe storage of grain in anticipation of the place being besieged.

These rock-hewn caves are so arranged that they can be hermetically

sealed. It is said that they will preserve grain in perfect condition

for a score of years. A quantity of provisions is always kept stored in

these receptacles for the use of the garrison, and to meet any sudden

emergency, the same policy being adopted at Gibraltar and Aden. The

warfare of our day, however, admits of no protracted sieges. Such a

struggle as took place before Sebastopol, not very long ago, could not

be sustained between two powers with the present means of destruction

possessed by both parties. In the future, conflicts will be short and

decisive. If anything relating to warfare can be merciful, the sharpest

and shortest process is most so. Lingering contests entail such terrible

consequent ills that they bring with them sufferings paramount to those

caused by the conflict of arms. "The next saddest thing in war to a

defeat is a victory," said Wellington, as he looked sorrowfully upon the

field which he had won by a fearful sacrifice of human life at San

Sebastian.

The two excellent harbors of Valletta might afford anchorage for six

hundred ships of war, as they have bold, well-defined shores, and an

average depth of ten fathoms. This was not so originally, but is the

result of a thorough system of dredging, which has been faithfully

completed.

As we look upon the scene from an elevated point, beneath the afternoon

sun, while freely inhaling the lotus-like air of the Mediterranean,

everything is serene and lovely. Over the terraced roofs of Valletta

rises the square tower of the Grand Palace, gay with many colored signal

flags. Across the harbor the eye rests upon Fort Ricasoli, and here

stands stout old St. Elmo, while in the distance Fort San Rocco crowns a

hilltop. Much nearer is Fort St. Angelo, with its record of a thousand

years and more. The numerous domes and towers of the city, though they

are not minarets, have much the same Oriental effect upon the eye.

Myriads of small boats, painted in bright, fanciful colors after the

florid Maltese style, and having canvas coverings sheltering the stern,

shoot hither and thither like birds upon the wing. The boatmen stand

while rowing, as do the oarsmen of the Venetian gondolas, pushing, not

pulling, at the oars. Hundreds of small feluccas line the shore. A group

of fishermen in rude but picturesque costumes are landing the product of

their industry. Half a dozen ships belonging to the British navy, and as

many huge mail steamers, swing lazily at anchor, while little erratic

steam launches dart back and forth from ship to shore; a memorable

picture, the sea and sky being its appropriate frame. French, German,

Italian, and English flags indicate the nationality of the several

vessels, but the eye searches in vain for the stars and stripes of our

Union. The same absence of the American flag is only too observable

throughout nearly all the ports of the Mediterranean and the far East.

The home-keeping citizen who reads these lines can hardly realize the

patriotic sensation mingled with dire homesickness which thrills the

traveler, long absent from his native land, at sight of our beloved

national emblem proudly expanding its folds upon a foreign shore.

We look in vain for one other significant flag, that of the

eight-pointed cross, which for centuries waved over these battlements as

the sacred banner of the Knights of St. John, the token of their

religious faith and their resolve to conquer or to die, which led them

in the van of battle at Jerusalem, at Acre, and at Rhodes, and under

which they slaughtered the besieging enemy by thousands beneath the wall

of Malta; the gallant flag which so often flashed defiance before the

eyes of sanguinary Turks, treacherous Greeks, and rapacious Algerines

upon the sea; the flag, alas! which was lowered in disgrace, in 1798,

without the firing of a single shot in its defense, to give place to the

tricolor of France, and to acknowledge the mastership of Bonaparte. This

was an act of cowardice equaled only by that of the arch-traitor

Bazaine, who shamefully surrendered a whole army at Metz which was

perfectly capable of winning a signal victory over the Germans, if it

had been led against them by a brave general. The world knows how that

dastard poltroon was tried and punished for his treason, as well as of

his miserable subsequent life and unregretted death in a foreign land.

To return to the Knights of St. John. This act of treachery--the

surrender of Valletta to the French--was virtually the end of the famous

order; the dying hour, as it were, of a brotherhood which had for

hundreds of years defied the whole Ottoman power almost single handed,

and whose members, as chivalrous knights, won the respect of

Christendom.

One often reads of the great beauty of the sunset as enjoyed upon this

group, and we cheerfully bear witness to the fact that this phenomenon

of nature is justly eulogized. Writers are apt to grow enthusiastic over

Italian sunsets, especially along the Riviera; but the author, who has

seen this diurnal exhibition in all parts of the globe, can truly say he

has nowhere witnessed it surrounded by more beauty and grandeur of

effect than in our own beloved land. Bostonians who possess an

appreciative eye for the loveliness of cloud and sky effect, have seen

at the closing of day, looking westward over the Charles River, as

glorious exhibitions of the sunset hour as any part of the world can

boast. As to the beauty of the afterglow, the lingering twilight of New

England, "whose mantle is the drapery of dreams," it can be excelled in

no land in either hemisphere. In the enthusiasm of the moment, while on

the Yellow Sea of China, the author gave precedence, in his published

notes, to the remarkable sunsets which characterize that region; but in

this soberer moment a calmer conviction is honestly recorded. Still, the

quivering flame that seemed to burn like lava on the line where sky and

ocean met, the iris hues softly reflected by the vapory tissue of clouds

in the opposite expanse, and the gorgeous robes in which the on-coming

night was wrapped that December evening upon the Yellow Sea, can never

be forgotten by any one who witnessed it.

On the disappearance of the sun beneath the Mediterranean at Malta, as

soon as the opal fires have burned out of the sky, light clouds usually

fringe the horizon, emitting rapid flashes of lightning which continue

for hours, recalling the Aurora Borealis as seen at Bodoee and Tromsoee,

in Norway. There is no lasting twilight in this latitude. Night follows

close upon the footsteps of the departing day. The brightness of the

stars supervenes so quickly after the curtain falls upon the scene, and

the mellow evening atmosphere is so clear, that the twilight is hardly

missed by the watchful observer, as the Spirit of the night, upon dewy

sandals, begins her course of the circling hours.

The Story of Malta · 第 3 / 17 章