Valletta, Capital of Malta.--A Unique City.--Bright Faces,
Flowers, and Sunshine.--Architecture.--L'Isle Adam and La
Vallette, Grand Masters.--Mount Sceberris.--Stone Dwelling-
Houses.--Streets of the Capital.--A Specialty.--Fancy Goods
Merchants.--The Yacht Sunbeam.--Main Street of the City.--A
Grand Opera House.--A St. Giles in Malta.--Strada Santa
Lucia.--Street of Stairs.--Thoroughfares.--The Military
Hospital.--Characteristic Street Scenes.--Emigration.
As the Grand Harbor of Malta is entered and the white battlements of
forts St. Elmo and Ricasoli are passed, one realizes the vast importance
of the situation. Those heavy guns rising tier upon tier are silent now,
but they are capable of doing fearful execution upon an approaching
enemy. Probably the access to no other seaport in the world is more
powerfully defended, unless it be that of Cronstadt, guarding the mouth
of the Neva and the passage leading up to the city of St. Petersburg.
Let us hope that such armaments may prove to be preventives and not
incentives to warfare. "How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds make
deeds ill done!" This is very true, and yet being prepared, fully
prepared, for it has doubtless often prevented war. It is calculated
that twenty-five thousand men would be required to properly man these
defensive works which hem about the town.
Few persons visiting this capital for the first time are prepared, on
landing at the broad stone steps near the Custom House, to find in this
isolated place a large and beautiful city whose historic associations
and architectural charms so admirably harmonize. Valletta is a genuine
surprise. Whatever preconceived idea the stranger may have formed
concerning it, he can hardly have approximated to the truth. Unique and
mystical, it constantly appeals in some new form to the imagination. It
strikes one at first as somewhat too pretentious in its endless
fortifications, palaces, hospitals, churches, public institutions,
theatres, and population, for a place so circumscribed geographically,
and of such seeming commercial unimportance. It will appear, presently,
as we progress in our Story of Malta, why and how such a full-fledged
city should have sprung, Minerva-like, into complete existence, without
experiencing the throes of incipient childhood, and the slow-ripening
capacities of maturity.
The capital is well-built in solid masses of dwellings, presenting an
unmistakable air of prosperity. One is reminded here and there of
Oriental Tangier, with a suggestion of scenes borrowed from Spanish
Granada. There are fascinating combinations everywhere, a succession of
attractive novelties and surprises constantly greeting the eye. The town
seems to be full of sunshine, of bright faces, and of flowers; at least
it is so here on the Strada Reale. Everybody is gay and animated. The
fountains laugh with rippling melody in the warm atmosphere, and the
blossoms on the fruit trees are more lovely and fragrant than the
bouquets which the pretty Maltese girls offer at such minimum prices.
There is a rich and constant glow of shifting color, the yellow
buildings reflecting light like burnished gold.
Surely it is good to be here, good to behold this charming phase of
foreign life, and to contrast it with other scenes more famous but far
less attractive. Paris is said to be the city of art and poetry, but
Valletta embodies both within itself, adding a third allurement as being
the city of romance and vivid history, which leaves upon the visitor's
brain a memorable vision of light, life, and color.
Lord Beaconsfield wrote of Valletta as being equal in its architecture
to any capital in Europe, but this is an exaggeration, and is incorrect.
It may, however, be fairly said to vie with any town on the shores of
the Mediterranean for the elegance of its construction and its general
effect. "If that fair city," says the authority which we have just
quoted, "with its streets of palaces, its picturesque forts and
magnificent church (that of St. John), only crowned some green and azure
island of the Ionian Sea, Corfu, for instance, I really think that the
ideal of landscape would be realized."
The prevailing style of the edifices is Italian and Moorish combined,
quite appropriate to the climate and habits of the people. The Knights
are said to have brought with them from Rhodes the style of building
which has been uniformly adopted here. The palaces now seen in the
capital of Malta are reproductions of those left in the former home of
the order, that "Garden of the Levant." There is an unmistakable flavor
of the Orient in nearly everything which the fraternity brought hither
from Rhodes, even extending, in no small degree, to their domestic
affairs, manners, and customs. Valletta, including the immediate suburb
of Floriana, is about two miles long and nearly a mile in width. After
Venice we know of no other city more strongly individualized or more
thoroughly mediaeval. There is no other capital with which it can
reasonably be compared; it stands quite alone, a populous city and
citadel combined. Like Gibraltar in purpose, it is as unlike that
far-famed rocky fortress and town as can well be conceived. It was
founded in 1566, by Jean de La Vallette, forty-fourth Grand Master of
the Knights of St. John, whose statue, together with that of the brave
and gallant L'Isle Adam, who preceded him in the important office, is to
be seen over the Porta Reale. The latter was the able defender of
Rhodes, the former was the hero of the great siege of Malta, in 1565.
Concerning the lives and achievements of both these remarkable historic
characters, we shall have occasion to speak more in detail as we
progress with our narrative.
The title proposed for the new capital by its founder was quite
characteristic of the man and the priest. It was _Umilissima_, that is,
"the humblest," but those who succeeded the Grand Master, and who
faithfully carried out nearly all of his many purposes, saw the eminent
propriety of calling it after his own name, and thus it became a fitting
and lasting monument to his memory. La Vallette died in 1568, after a
most remarkable and eventful career. In briefly reviewing his character,
we find many contradictory traits. He was brave, but cruel; a warm and
loyal friend, and yet a most determined and rigid disciplinarian with
one and all. Only the renowned pirate chief, Admiral Dragut, who was his
contemporary, exceeded him in terrible deeds of warfare, and yet he was
always profoundly devout in his religious instincts, and specially
observant of all the Romish church ceremonials and requirements. He is
believed to have lived more in accordance with his religious vows than
did nine tenths of the brotherhood over whom he presided. The Knights
often curbed their vicious and licentious inclinations, checked by the
force of his judicious example. He fearlessly led his people in every
great contest, whether at sea, when he was commander-in-chief of the
galleys, or on land, when contending with the Turks in a fierce
hand-to-hand conflict. Being a powerful man physically and an expert
swordsman, his flashing weapon dealt terrible execution wherever he
appeared. He bore upon his body many scars which had been received in
the van of battle, while gallantly fighting the infidel hosts for more
than forty years: first in Rhodes under L'Isle Adam, afterwards upon the
sea in the galleons of the order, finally and victoriously at Malta,
where his management of the great siege placed him in the foremost rank
of successful generals. This was the crowning heroic deed of his life.
La Vallette was unquestionably the grandest of the Grand Masters of the
order.
The original plan of the city of Valletta was not consummated until
1571, under the Grand Master Pietro del Monte, successor to Vallette,
who imported masons and artisans of all sorts in great numbers from
Sicily and Italy for this purpose. The original design was to cut down
the ridge of rocks which form Mount Sceberris, upon which the city now
stands, thus forming a plain only a few feet above the level of the
Mediterranean. But this idea was abandoned as involving too much time
and expense, and also on account of news received by the Grand Master
from his spies at Constantinople, to the effect that another expedition
was fitting out there to attack the island. So the new capital was
finally built upon the sloping ridge which makes the natural
conformation of the peninsula, rendering it necessary to build the
lateral streets into stairways in place of roadways. Nevertheless, it is
to-day the most attractive and interesting small city we have ever
visited.
Mount Sceberris is an Arabic name, signifying "the jutting out of the
cape." Like Asiatic names generally, it is very appropriate. Primitive
races have a happy inspiration in this direction. Minnehaha, "laughing
water," is an instance of apt and descriptive nomenclature born in the
brain of uncultured Dakota Indians. The highest point of the city
foundations is about two hundred feet above the level of the sea, into
which it projects considerably over three hundred yards, with a width of
twelve hundred, though it narrows at its seaward extremity and is lowest
where it joins the line of the mainland. The fort of St. Elmo--the
patron saint of mariners--crowns the narrowed point of the peninsula
seaward.
The streets, running at right angles, divide the buildings into large,
quadrangular groups. The houses, which are all flat-roofed, are guarded
by low parapets, and are universally built of stone picturesquely
carved, and ornamented by balconies of all sizes and patterns. The
native stone masons are natural artists in the carving of stone. There
is something in the very air of Italy, so close at hand, which engenders
artistic taste even among the common people.
Within the dwellings, the rooms are quite large and lofty, insuring good
ventilation. The floors, even to the upper stories, are composed of the
same material as the main structure. This cream-colored stone is the
outcrop of the latest geological period. The facility for obtaining this
material where the whole island might be worked as a stone quarry has
led to its general adaptation. It will be remembered that all wood, for
whatever use designed, must be imported. Charcoal is used for cooking
purposes, and so is anthracite coal. Wood is even more expensive than in
Paris. The dwellings front upon thoroughfares of fairly good width,
which are well paved and kept scrupulously neat and clean. When the
building stone of which the houses are constructed is quarried, it is so
soft that it can be easily moulded, or rather carved, into almost any
desired shape, but exposure to the atmosphere hardens it gradually to
the consistency of our American freestone. When newly quarried it is a
light yellow, and under the midday sunlight it is somewhat trying to the
eyes. Age tones down this effect to a sombre buff hue. It is found that
exposure to the atmosphere, which at first hardens this stone, in the
lapse of time causes the surface to peel off, or in other words a slow
process of disintegration takes place, which gives, by the mouldering
away of the surface of the stone, an appearance of great age. Any one
who has noticed the action of frost upon brown freestone in our New
England climate has a familiar example of what we describe.
The streets which run up the steep hillsides upon which the city is
terraced have broad stone steps by which they may be ascended, but are
quite inaccessible to wheeled vehicles, forming a sort of "Jacob's
ladder," more picturesque than comfortable for one having to surmount
them. The simile does not hold good as to angelic spirits ascending and
descending, as those who are thus occupied here are very decidedly of
mundane origin. These curious streets of stairs, over which Byron grew
profane, with their quaint overhanging balconies, and life-size saints
presiding at each corner, are indeed unique. Strada Santa Lucia, Strada
San Giovanni, and Strada San Domenicho are among these, with their gay
little shops opening upon the steps, while about the doors linger small
groups of gossiping customers. These lateral streets are of easy grade,
and if one does not hurry too much in coming up from the water front,
they will safely land him at last on a level with the Strada Reale. It
is easy to imagine one's self, for a moment, amid these curious
surroundings, spirited away to another sphere, to some distant bourne
whence travelers do not return to write books. At Bahia, in Brazil, the
public ascend from the lower to the upper town, some two hundred
perpendicular feet, by means of an elevator. Why might not Valletta be
thus supplied?
The principal thoroughfare is the Strada Reale, lined on either side
with attractive shops, which display choice fancy goods, jewelry, silks,
photographs, gold and silver filigree work, and rich old lace. The
goldsmiths of Malta are justly praised for the excellence of their work,
original in design and exquisite in its finish. The ornamental articles
of web-like silver are nowhere else produced in greater perfection. They
recall the silver work found at Trichinopoli, India, the product of the
natives there, and the more familiar manufacture of Genoa. The Maltese
women are particularly skillful in the embroidery of muslin, and the
scarfs and shawls which they produce are not inferior to the best which
come from Turkey. They are often sold to foreigners as the work of
Constantinople artists. We say artists, for these goods are as much a
work of art as any piece of statuary, or a well-finished oil painting.
One other specialty must not be forgotten, for which Valletta is noted
just as that Rhine city of cathedral fame is for cologne. A preparation
of orange-flower water is distilled here, which constitutes a most
delightful perfume, very popular with strangers. It is a choice
delicacy, suitable for many purposes. A wine-glass of this distillation
added to a bathing-tub of warm water makes a bath fit for the gods,
having an excellent effect upon the skin, opening the pores, and
removing all foreign matter.
The shops on the Strada Reale are liberally patronized by visitors to
the island, nearly all of whom are desirous of carrying away with them
some attractive souvenir of Malta. It is computed that the passengers by
each P. & O. steamship which stops at the port on its way east or west
leave on an average five or six hundred dollars distributed among the
fancy goods merchants, and we should say this is a very moderate
estimate. A considerable amount of money is also expended by the owners
of private steam and sailing yachts, which are constantly arriving at or
departing from Valletta. The purchases of this latter class of customers
are often of the most lavish character. A storekeeper on this
thoroughfare told the author that the late Lady Brassey purchased goods
costing her a thousand pounds sterling, during the few days in which the
Sunbeam lay in the harbor. It is hardly necessary to remark that these
accommodating and enterprising merchants do not part with their goods
without realizing a handsome profit. There is a familiar saying among
the English residents in the island to the effect that "a Gibraltar Jew
starves alongside of a Maltese tradesman;" and still another, quite as
significant, to this effect: "It takes seven Jews to cheat one Maltese."
It is well to remember one characteristic of the mode of doing business
here. As in most of the Eastern bazaars, and also in the shops of Spain
and Italy, the local merchant does not expect the purchaser of his goods
to pay the first price which he names for them. It is often the case
that he is quite prepared to sell at fifty per cent. less. A certain
amount of dickering seems to be considered necessary, and it is in fact
the life of trade in Valletta and Alexandria. The dealer, after he has
specified the price of any given article, regards the customer with an
air of serene indifference, as though it did not matter to him in the
least whether he sells his goods or not. All the while, however, he is
secretly exercised by an intense anxiety lest you should not purchase.
If one really desires an article, it is pretty safe to offer half the
sum which is at first demanded, and nine times in ten it will consummate
the bargain. It is an illegitimate mode of doing business, but one which
is common in many parts of the world.
Speaking of the yacht Sunbeam recalls some pleasant memories. It has
been the author's privilege to meet that graceful craft in various
foreign ports, and to have known its cultured mistress. The last time he
saw this white-hulled rover was in the harbor of Sidney, Australia. It
was on the passage thence that Lady Brassey died of malarial fever, and
was buried in the bosom of the ocean which she loved so well. Lord
Brassey, who is an excellent seaman and practical navigator, fully
shared with his accomplished companion this fondness for ocean
adventure. The cabin of the Sunbeam was fitted with all the accessories
of a lady's boudoir, and with charming good taste. It was a veritable
museum of choice bricabrac, not an article of which was without its
pleasant association, a token to stimulate agreeable memories. One who
wrote so delightfully of her foreign experiences could not fail to draw
inspiration from such surroundings. All parts of the known world had
contributed to the adornment of her cabin, including domestic articles
from the South Sea Islands, Fiji weapons, African symbols, Samoan
curiosities, Chinese idols and oddities, Japanese screens, and Satsuma
ware of rarest beauty.
Let us not wander too far afield. We were speaking of the main
thoroughfare of Valletta.
This central street, which runs very nearly north and south, contains a
number of fairly good hotels, three or four banks, besides several good
restaurants and boarding-houses. It is a favorite promenade, day and
evening, being well lighted by gas. A large and imposing opera house of
the Grecian order is situated at the highest point of the Strada Reale,
near to the Porta Reale,--"Royal Gate." The elaborate edifice is finely
ornamented with Corinthian columns. If its traditions are correct,
Adelina Patti made her debut at this house. Patti was then quite
unknown, and is said to have received one pound sterling for her part of
the performance on the occasion; to-day she realizes one thousand pounds
sterling for a similar service in America. Though her voice evinces the
corroding power of time, she is unquestionably queen of the operatic
stage. That there is excellent music dispensed at this fine Maltese
opera house one can easily believe, remembering the proximity of the
land of song. The edifice was originally built in 1864, but was
partially destroyed by fire in 1873, a fate which seems sooner or later
to befall all such places of amusement. It was promptly rebuilt, with
many and costly improvements, so that it is now as complete an operatic
establishment as those of Naples and Milan. It cost the Maltese
exchequer over fifty thousand pounds sterling. So elaborate and
pretentious a structure to be devoted to this purpose was hardly
demanded in a community of the proportions of Valletta, and
consequently, when the full amount of its cost was made public, there
was considerable fault found with those officials who were responsible
for such lavish outlay of the public funds. The opera season is from the
middle of October to the middle of May, the performances being given
three times each week. There is another theatre close to the square of
St. George, known as the Teatro Manoel. This is a much older though
quite as popular a place of amusement, and antedates the grand opera
house a full century.
The edifices on the Strada Reale are generally three stories high, many
of them large and luxuriously planned. They are mostly occupied as
dwelling-houses above the first floor, the latter being usually devoted
to some sort of shop. When they are not improved for this purpose, the
lower windows are guarded with large, protruding iron bars, such as are
commonly seen in the cities of Italy,--more suggestive than ornamental.
It is probably custom rather than necessity which prompts to this
fashion. There is a certain incongruity in passing through a populous
thoroughfare where the lower windows are thus barricaded, while bright
children and happy family groups are visible behind the frowning bars.
There is no absolute danger of mistaking these residences for prisons or
insane asylums.
The taste displayed in the architecture upon the Strada Reale makes it
both quaint and beautiful; though it is very irregular in expression and
after no fixed order, still it is not without a certain fascination and
harmony of general effect. The facades exhibit here and there curious
armorial bearings, emblems of their former knightly occupants, but
atmospheric influences are gradually obliterating these interesting
mementoes. Many were purposely effaced by the French during their brief
mastership, who waged a bitter warfare against all titles or insignia
representative of other than military rank. Judging by this immediate
neighborhood alone, one would surmise that the town was especially
cleanly and quite devoid of low or miserable quarters; but that there
are vile, unwholesome dens here, where decency is entirely lost sight
of, in certain lanes, narrow streets, and out-of-the-way places, no one
can deny. So it is in all large capitals. Are New York, Boston, and
Chicago entirely exempt from such conditions? We do not agree, however,
with those who have given Malta a specially bad name in this respect.
There is a section of the town leading from the Strada Forni, known as
the _Manderaggio_, which signifies "a place for cattle," where the poor
and needy of the lowest class herd together like animals. Why some
deadly disease does not break forth and sweep away the people is a
mystery. Yet even this questionable neighborhood is no worse in its
debasement than the Five Points of New York used to be within the
writer's memory. There can be no reasonable doubt that the average
condition of the place, as regards morality, is of a far more desirable
character than it was during the sovereignty of the famous--we had
almost written infamous--Knights, whose priestly harems were simply
notorious, and whose dissolute lives were unrestrained by law or
self-respect. One thing we can confidently assert: there is nothing here
so vile and so grossly immoral as Chinatown in San Francisco, and
nothing worse than may be seen any day in St. Giles's, London, or the
Latin Quarter of Paris.
How closely the lines of civilization and of barbarism intersect each
other in all populous centres!
Valletta is well policed; rowdiness does not obtrude itself upon the
stranger. Even the annoying importunities of the beggars in some parts
of the town are not carried beyond the bounds of respectful, though
earnest solicitation.
Along the course of the Strada Reale,--the Broadway of the
capital,--which the French called, after the style of that period, Rue
des Droits de l'Homme, at the corners where the cross-streets intersect
it, graceful little kiosks are erected, painted in fanciful colors,
whose occupants, like those seen upon the Parisian boulevards and the
busy thoroughfares of Rio Janeiro, sell flowers, bonbons, coffee, fruit,
and newspapers. The pretty Maltese girls, with dark, brilliant,
beseeching eyes, who preside in these kiosks, are natural coquettes.
Like the occupants of the tall booths in the flower market of
Marseilles, coquetry is a most available part of their stock in trade. A
winning smile will sell a bouquet more readily than the most eloquent
oral appeal. These flower girls are kept quite busy making up and
disposing of buttonhole bouquets at certain hours of the day, to adorn
strangers and native dudes, from whose presence no locality is quite
exempt.
This main avenue is the highest street in the city, and runs along the
crest of the hill upon which Valletta is situated. The site gives the
place natural facility for drainage, and the sanitary conditions seem to
be excellent. Every one agrees that the capital is a healthy one, all
things considered.
Let us enter, for a moment, one of the dwellings on the main
thoroughfare, and leave behind the hot sunshine, which seems striving to
set everything on fire in the Strada Reale.
Passing in through a lofty vestibule leading to an open court or patio,
as the Spaniards call it, we come upon a maze of flowering shrubs, small
orange-trees in boxes, and other floral charms. A miniature fountain in
the centre of the area is very busy in sustaining at the apex of its
tiny stream a hollow glass ball of vivid hue, an innocent act of aquatic
legerdemain. The air is perfumed with fragrant flowers, and there is a
cooling sensation in the gurgle of the fountain. There rises from this
area a winding stone stairway, conducting to a gallery, from which
doorways lead into the several apartments. These rooms can be thrown
together so as to give the effect of a large hall, by opening the wide
connecting doors. The apartments are spacious and lofty, being at least
twelve or fifteen feet in height. There is not much in the way of
furniture to describe in this reception-room which we have entered,
which typifies the rest. It is lined with comfortable divans, and the
glazed tiles of the floor are covered here and there with small Persian
rugs. A few quaint old portraits of the Knights of St. John hang upon
the walls, grim and ghostly in their expression, together with a large
oval mirror of Venetian make. A lesser one hangs opposite, which plays
queer tricks with the faces and figures presented to its glistening
surface. A spacious table of dark wood occupies the centre of this
spacious room, having four or five antique chairs with tall backs ranged
beside it. There are no books, no small articles of bricabrac to be
seen, and there is a sense of emptiness and bareness which oppresses
one. It must have been the residence of some bachelor Knight, say a
hundred years ago; to-day it is a boarding-house. Out of this large room
a bay window or balcony opens, containing a mass of fragrant flowers
gracefully disposed, showing a woman's taste and a woman's hand. Such is
a Maltese drawing-room on the Strada Reale. One can take an apartment
here and dine at a neighboring restaurant, and live very cheaply, if
economy be a special object.
Each of the steep, narrow passageways which run down to the water's edge
from the Strada Reale bears the name of some patron saint. Strada Santa
Lucia is a typical street of this character, with its many tiresome
stone steps, not one of which is level from end to end. The Imperial
Hotel, so called, is upon this street. English and American visitors who
are passing a few days here generally choose the Hotel Angleterre, on
the Strada Stretta. There are half a dozen avenues which run parallel
with the main thoroughfare of the city. Strada Mercanti is the most
important of them. On this avenue there are several large public
institutions, including the post-office, the Monte di Pieta, and the
principal market. The latter is situated in the centre of the town, at
the back of the governor's palace. Flies and beggars congregate here in
almost equal numbers, forcing upon one's attention the puzzling problem
of hunger and plenty existing in juxtaposition. Here and there are seen
the spacious and elegant palaces formerly occupied by the rich,
comfort-loving, luxurious Knights, which are now devoted to English
government offices, as barracks, a public library, and law courts, or
are improved for club purposes. It is a wealthy nation which holds
sovereignty in Malta to-day, and her officials, civil or military, are
lodged like princes. The original Auberge de Provence, with its cool,
attractive corridors and lofty apartments, is occupied by the Union
Club, and the Auberge de l'Auvergne, equally palatial, is now used as
the Court of Justice.
The Order of St. John began its career humbly enough among the pilgrims
of Jerusalem, by taking upon itself vows of chastity, self-abnegation,
and poverty; but it ended in palaces, gross immorality, and undisguised
debauchery. Its lowly birth in that sacred Syrian city was grand and
noble in purpose, but ultimate success, together with the acquirement of
power, fame, and riches, acted as adulterants to the original
conception. Being only mortals, the Knights gave way freely to the
weaknesses of humanity. This perversion of the fundamental design of
the order was the natural presage of its gradual decline and final
downfall.
The principal streets of Valletta which run parallel with the Strada
Reale are Strada Forni, Strada Mercanti, Strada St. Paolo, Strada Zecca,
and Strada St. Ursula. The second named, as we have already intimated,
is the most important next to Strada Reale. Upon it is situated the
large military hospital which was erected in 1628, and which contains
four hundred beds. One apartment in this institution is nearly five
hundred feet long, exceeding in size any room or hall in Europe. In this
establishment the Knights were accustomed to serve by turns as day and
night nurses,--as "Hospitallers," in fact, and thus to keep good their
claim to the original title of the order.
Bonaparte, when he was in possession of Valletta, pronounced this civil
and military hospital to be the most perfect institution of the sort in
the world. It was lavishly conducted during the sovereignty of the
Knights, no regard being had for expense, and there was no advantage
known to the medical profession of the period which was not to be
obtained within its walls.
Street scenes are always significant of the character of a people. Here,
after the style which prevails in southern Europe, all sorts of trades
are carried on in the open air upon the streets. As on the Neapolitan
Chiaja, people live out of doors, invited by the mildness of the
climate. Barbers, tailors, shoemakers, tinkers, and basket-makers ply
their several callings in public, quite unsheltered by any sort of
device, except that of seeking the shady side of the thoroughfare. The
effect is at least to present an industrious appearance. It nevertheless
seems rather odd to see a man, his face frosty with lather, in process
of shaving under such circumstances, or to watch an individual posing
upon the sidewalk while being modeled in wax by a native itinerant
artist. This, by the way, is a specialty here, and its followers acquire
great facility, with a true artistic touch.
Several of the minor streets are devoted to special occupations, such as
the Strada Irlandese, "Irish Street," which, is well-filled with
blacksmith's shops; in the Strada Levante dwell stone-cutters and
ship-chandlers; another section is occupied by basket and chair makers,
while in a fourth coffin-makers congregate. So, in the City of Mexico,
one street near the great market is entirely devoted to the shops of
coffin-makers, who have florid signs displayed which indicate their
calling, and mural caskets hanging upon the shop fronts.
The crowded condition of the population suggests emigration, which is a
necessary recourse in these islands. Many of the Maltese are to be found
distributed among the several Mediterranean ports, especially at
Gibraltar, Tangier, Tripoli, and Constantinople. They are quite
unmistakable wherever they are met, retaining under all circumstances a
strong individuality, and using only their native tongue. The men are
sought for by sea-captains who navigate these waters, being as a rule
excellent seamen, prompt and obedient. Like the Sicilians, they are
quick-tempered and passionate, though not particularly quarrelsome. If
they are allowed to carry a knife, they are liable to make use of it in
a quarrel. As it is the men and not the women who emigrate, there is a
preponderance of the latter sex in Malta.
These Maltese women are often very charming, especially in their figures
and general bearing. No youthful person can be ugly while possessing
such eyes as Heaven has been pleased to give them. They have almost
universally a gentleness of manner which is in itself a great attraction
in women. That their charms are evanescent must be frankly admitted;
they marry early in their teens, and grow old quickly, like the women of
the fellah class in Egypt, who when young are really beautiful,
exquisite in form and graceful in every movement, but who fade rapidly
under the cares of maternity and the labor of the fields. The
occupations of the Maltese women, however, are of a far less wearing
nature.
One never wearies of wandering about Valletta. There is somehow, amid
the scenes encountered in these quaint streets, a suggestion of the
Arabian Nights which haunts one all the while, only a degree less
forcibly than at Cairo. It would seem to be quite the thing were
Haroun-al-Raschid Grand Master here, accompanied by his favorite
minister Jaafar, and there is ample material from which Ali Baba might
recruit his Forty Thieves. May not this fellow who is crying in Arabic
some mysterious merchandise upon the Strada Reale have new lamps to
exchange for old ones? We only require a score of over-laden donkeys and
a few mournful looking camels to complete the Oriental picture.