Ophthalmia.--Profusion of Flowers.--Inland Villages.--
Educational Matters.--Public Amusements.--Maltese Carnival.
--Italian Carnival.--Under English Rule.--No Direct
Taxation.--Code of Laws.--A Summer Palace.--Governor-General
Smyth.--San Antonio Gardens.--Wages.--Oranges.--Life's
Contrasts.--Swarming Beggars.--Social Problem.--Churches
crowded with Riches.--Starving Population.--A Mexican
Experience.
Nearly every locality which is visited by travelers is found to have
some special annoyance which is active in its warfare upon humanity.
Thus diseases of the eye prevail among the common people of Malta as
they do in Egypt, a trouble in both countries which is caused by the
fervor of the sun's rays and the general lack of shade, not forgetting
also an evident want of cleanliness. The author has seen native
camel-drivers come into Egyptian cities from across the desert quite
blind for the time being from continuous exposure to the sun's rays and
the powerful reflection of the heated sand. The same effect arises from
the yellow stone dwellings of Valletta, and the bare rocks inland
aggravate the prevailing trouble. So Arctic explorers, living amid the
constant glare of the snow-fields, are subject to ophthalmia, an
affliction which they guard against by wearing snow-goggles. In the
Maltese capital, as in Cairo, there is a fine dust permeating the
atmosphere when the wind blows, charged with silex and animal
impurities, which finds lodgment in the eyes. The ordinary people have
no predilection for the use of water wherewith to cleanse their hands
and faces, consequently such matter accumulates in these delicate
organs, first irritating, then poisoning them. Ulceration follows, and
insects--especially flies, which are a great pest in Malta--carry the
virus from one person to another, creating, in warm weather, an epidemic
of sore eyes. Children are most frequently the sufferers; and this
disease, commencing with them when they are of tender age, is liable to
become chronic.
Nine tenths of the inhabitants of the group are professed Roman
Catholics. One meets a priest or cowled monk at every turn in the public
streets, as well as upon the roads inland. They usually wear a
characteristic black robe, together with an impossible hat, very broad
of brim and turned up at the sides. There are said to be about two
thousand priests in these islands, whose physical appearance certainly
indicates free and generous diet, not to say luxurious living. The
reader may imagine what a strong contrast they furnish to the hungry,
begging masses of the town whom they pass by with the most utter
indifference. One is fain to ask, Does it ever strike the people, who
are taxed so heavily to support these "walking delegates" of the church
in idleness, that there must be something radically wrong in a system
which fattens a priest by starving a laborer? The conduct of church
affairs should be just as amenable to consistency and sound common
sense as any of the affairs of life. The Maltese, unfortunately, have a
paucity of reason and a plethora of priests.
Flowers are abundant in Valletta, and, as already intimated, are
marvelously cheap and beautiful, thus arguing a certain degree of public
taste and refinement in the community, which makes it profitable to
raise them. "That man cannot be mean and deceitful," said a shrewd,
cultured woman, and a good judge of human nature, "he is so fond and
careful of flowers." Seeing a bouquet prettily backed with maidenhair
fern, we asked if it was cultivated here, and were told that the plant
grew wild in some of the caves of Comino, near at hand. In the environs
of the capital there is a hamlet named Casal Attard, that is, "the
village of roses;" there is also a Casal Luca, "the village of poplars;"
and still another, Casal Zebbug, signifying, "the village of olives;" a
simple but very appropriate system of nomenclature. Casal Luca is mostly
inhabited by stone masons and quarrymen; indeed, the whole district
about the hamlet is one large quarry. The church in this thrifty village
contains three admirable and well-remembered paintings by that
illustrious artist, Mattia Preti.
There are twenty-six small casals in Malta proper, the larger number of
which are on the eastern end of the island, and all of them are very
much alike. They are divided by narrow streets, designed to exclude the
powerful rays of the summer sun, while the low stone houses are full to
repletion of children and Arabic-speaking people with Oriental
proclivities. Though there are beggars by the score along the roads and
in the villages, there are no other obvious tokens of poverty. Indeed,
there is a general appearance of thrift. It is in populous centres, in
large cities, that real want and hunger are mostly suffered, where from
force of circumstances the multitude of people cease to be producers,
but are still consumers. Each of these casals has its school, wherein,
it is said, the government tries to introduce the English language, but
it would seem with indifferent success. Those who are sovereign here
appear to be too indifferent in this matter. There is a well-organized
college at Valletta, where degrees are conferred in divinity, law, and
physic. To our inquiry of an intelligent citizen touching this subject,
he promptly replied: "Education in Malta is cheap, bad, and neglected."
This is only too true, though all the civilized world admits it to be
the great and most effective weapon of Christianity and progress. The
most effective missionary who can be dispatched to foreign lands is the
competent school-teacher. Tenets of faith will adjust themselves in
accordance with reason, among those who are rendered sufficiently
intelligent to think for themselves. The ignorance of a large portion of
the Maltese villagers is absolutely deplorable. They have no recognized
language in literature; and if they had, they could neither read nor
write it. They are quite uninformed even upon the most common current
events. An English gentleman (Mr. Seddall), who lived some years at
Malta, declared that they were not a whit better educated than the
Bedouin Arabs. As a conclusive evidence of this, he tells us in print:
"A laboring man once informed me that the Sultan was the supreme ruler
of the island." The same author says: "The priests oppose all
enlightenment of the masses." This is not anything new, as it is their
known and admitted policy everywhere; but in the multitude of witnesses
we arrive at the truth.
The school system of Valletta was reorganized a few years ago, but it is
still far behind the general progressive ideas of our times. Education
is not compulsory here.
The popular entertainments of a people form a good criterion for
judgment as to their general character. The amusement which seems to be
most generally resorted to in Malta is that of parading through the
streets in a special garb, while displaying various banners in
celebration of certain church festivals. As in the ritual of the Roman
Catholic Church there are some two hundred such days in the year marked
for similar displays, the festivities of this sort appear to be chronic,
and absolutely pall upon one. The natives are inclined also to make
these occasions an excuse for undue indulgences, and carelessness of
conduct generally. The Carnival is also made much of by the common
people, and indeed it would seem that all classes participate. It begins
on the Sunday preceding Lent and lasts three days, during which period
the populace engage, to the exclusion of nearly all other occupations,
in a sort of good-natured riot, not always harmless. The most ludicrous
and extravagant conduct prevails, the actors being generally masked and
otherwise disguised. Hardly anything that occurs and which is designed
only for diversion, and not instigated by malice, is too absurd for
forgiveness. Ladies are ready to engage in a battle royal from their
balconies, using confetti, dried peas, beans, and flowers, which they
merrily shower upon the passers-by with all possible force. Sometimes,
but this is not often, unpleasant missiles are employed and serious
quarrels ensue. The day after the close of the Carnival, those who have
taken any extravagant part in the revels, or who have been over
self-indulgent, repair to the small church of Casal Zabbar, called Della
Grazia, where they humble themselves by way of penance for their follies
and excesses. It must be admitted that under shelter of the large
liberty which the occasion of the Carnival renders possible, many
otherwise quite inadmissible acts are perpetrated, and that as a whole
this peculiar celebration is terribly demoralizing to all classes of the
community.
A story of a tragic character is told, having a sad local interest, and
which was a natural outcome of the carnival season. It happened not long
ago. On the last day of the revels, when extravagance of costume and
conduct had reached its climax, when the actors strove to so carefully
disguise themselves as to render discovery impossible, a certain popular
beauty of the humble class was being pursued, complimented, and plied
with bonbons by a masked individual, to the great, disgust and annoyance
of a youth who was her acknowledged lover. It seems that the conspicuous
attention thus bestowed by a new aspirant for her favor was not entirely
displeasing to the youthful beauty. The fact that her accepted lover
evinced great jealousy at this condition of affairs seemed to spur on
both the girl and her newly devoted companion. At last, jealousy so
wrought upon the passion of the neglected lover that, seizing a
favorable moment for his purpose, he plunged his knife to the hilt in
the breast of the unknown rival. The wounded man fell to the ground,
bathed in his own blood, and his mask was promptly removed to give him
breathing space. He who had given the fatal blow escaped. To the
amazement of all, the dying youth was recognized as the girl's own
brother, who was merely enacting a Carnival deception. The man who dealt
the murderous blow has never since been heard from, but the
broken-hearted girl, who was by no means blameless, soon entered a
convent and donned the irrevocable veil.
Once since the English held possession here, a Scotchman was sent to
Malta as governor, a devout Presbyterian, who conscientiously endeavored
to abolish the noisy celebration of the Carnival on the Sabbath. This so
angered the people that it very nearly led to an open and general
rebellion against English rule. The occasion was not without bloodshed,
though the governor did not push matters to extremes. Their
parishioners were secretly spurred on by the priesthood, who were only
too happy to find an opportunity to make trouble for the Protestants.
Some of those who read these pages will doubtless remember the Carnival
as it occurred annually in the principal cities of Italy a few years
ago, in Venice, Naples, Milan, and Rome, but more particularly in the
last named capital. The Italian populace would no more be content
without the annual Carnival than the Spaniards would without their cruel
bullfights. The difference between these nationalities is clearly
evinced in these two exhibitions. The Italians are passionate and quick
to quarrel, but as a rule they are not cruel, a trait which is, however,
wrought into the very web and woof of Spanish character.
The Roman Corso is vividly recalled by the mere mention of the Carnival,
a specially Italian celebration. Through that narrow thoroughfare the
spirited and riderless horses, clad in barbed trappings which spurred
them at every leap, rushed at wild speed until brought to a sudden halt
by the heavy ropes stretched across the entrance of the Piazza del
Popolo. In a similar manner, on high festive occasions the Strada Reale
of Valletta was turned into a racecourse, though it is by no means
level, like the Roman Corso. Intoxicated with mirth, frolic, and
mischief, the motley Roman crowd, the better class of whom, men and
women, wear masks, filled the atmosphere of the Piazza di Spagna with
ribald songs and laughter. The streets which lead into and out of this
central square were crowded with hilarious people dressed in
caricature, all busily engaged in practical jokes and mimic warfare.
Harlequins, gods and goddesses, clowns, spirits of good and evil, all
were represented. Priests and peasants were depicted with their several
belongings, together with members of the learned professions. Those who
assumed these characters strove to be ludicrously consistent therewith.
Foreign lookers-on sometimes mingled with the crowd, from which they
were only too glad to escape after being decorated with mud, and having
their tall hats driven down over their eyes and their coats turned
inside out! To the crowd it was fun, but it was anything but amusing to
the victims. Three days and nights of this pandemonium ended the mad
frolic. To-day, in Rome as in Malta, the Carnival is losing its popular
interest. Horses no longer rush furiously through the Corso, and there
are but few maskers on the streets. The occasion is not forgotten in
Milan, Florence, or Turin. It still lingers with some of its pristine
extravagance in Venice, but its "glory" has departed.
The reader will perhaps sympathize with the exuberant memory of the
writer, when it breaks forth for a moment recalling these vivid scenes
of past experience.
Let us return once more to Valletta.
The British government seems willing not to interfere to any
considerable extent in the domestic or religious affairs of the islands.
An unequaled military and naval station is secured to England in the
Mediterranean, that is the main point. The loyalty of the people to the
British Queen is quite a secondary consideration. Were the Maltese to
break out in a rebellious mood, they would be instantly and ruthlessly
crushed. Their position would be in no way improved. The privileges
which they enjoy would be greatly curtailed, and their political
condition would assimilate to that of the subjected and down-trodden
tribes of India. As we have said, there is no direct taxation imposed
upon the Maltese. The rents of the government lands, together with
customs, licenses, etc., bring in an annual revenue of about two hundred
and sixty thousand pounds sterling, which is calculated to be quite
sufficient. Malta is considered to be self-supporting, in the political
acceptation of the term, so far as England is concerned. In fact, a
small balance appears on the right side of the account toward the
support of the large military organization held here in reserve at all
times, and from which, in case of an emergency, she could draw for
service elsewhere. Gibraltar, Malta, and Aden, the latter at the mouth
of the Red Sea, form important links in the chain of British outposts
guarding the route to her possessions in India. During the ninety-two
years of English occupancy, the group has steadily increased in
population, wealth, and productiveness. Were England to give up Malta,
it would under some specious pretext fall into the hands of Germany,
France, Italy, or Russia. It is far too insignificant in itself to
maintain its independence, and too important in its strategic position
not to be controlled by some one of the great nations.
As regards the code of laws recognized by the local courts, in
conversation with a native advocate it was found that that of Malta was
of a very confused character. These laws are based upon old Roman
legislation, amended by ecclesiastical enactments brought hither by the
Knights, and fortified by provisionary regulations issued by the several
Grand Masters, and designed to meet special cases. The system is,
indeed, a standing puzzle to the judges themselves. However, as the
Maltese are not a contentious people, but on the contrary are most
docile and easily governed, the authorities find no great
stumbling-block in the legal code. When in doubt, they have always
English common law to fall back upon, and being masters of the position,
there is no appeal from the decisions rendered by the English judges.
Here as elsewhere, litigation is an expensive luxury, in which only
those with full purses can indulge. The petty courts are quite
sufficient to keep the masses of the people in proper discipline. The
large garrison constitutes the most restless element, but as its members
are amenable to martial law, which is always prompt and decisive, good
order is easily preserved. Trial by jury has been applied to all crimes
since 1855. It was first introduced in certain criminal cases as early
as 1829, but its scope was extended in 1844, and as we have said, it now
applies to crimes of whatever nature.
The governor's summer palace is situated at Casal Lia,--known as San
Antonio,--about five miles from the city, where the chief official makes
his home during a portion of the year. The incumbent of the office at
this writing is General Sir Henry Augustus Smyth, who receives a salary
of twenty-five thousand dollars per annum. Sir Henry is also
commander-in-chief of the troops stationed at Malta. San Antonio is on
the road from Valletta to Citta Vecchia, just before one reaches Casal
Attard,--"the village of roses," with its fine old stone church. The
"palace," as it is called at San Antonio, is spacious and handsome.
Though it is quite plain architecturally, the surroundings are very
beautiful, consisting of extensive gardens, artificial ponds, musical
fountains, and myriads of thrifty fruit trees, the latter laden with
blossoms or golden fruit, such as oranges, lemons, pomegranates,
citrons, figs, and limes. The terraced grounds are connected by easy
stone steps, inviting the visitor to ramble in all directions. A
superficial view of the group gives no promise of such a lovely spot of
ground, borrowed, it would almost seem, from fairy-land, or, as the
Moors were wont to say of Andalusia, "a favored region dropped from
Paradise." Gorgeous butterflies, fragrant geraniums, scarlet and purple
verbenas, graceful lindens, glutinous honeysuckles, and ever-fragrant
roses, all combined to attract the eye and delight the senses. One is
reminded of the low lands of Florida and Louisiana, where the air at
certain seasons is heavily laden with the perfume of the lotus-like
magnolia, empress of the everglades. Very enchanting were the hours
passed at San Antonio, beneath its cool green shades. One can never
forget how brilliant was the floral display, how soft the atmosphere,
and how glorious the sunshine.
Maltese gardeners understand their business, in the various combinations
of which a tangible poem may be written by one loving his calling and
with a genius for floriculture. Great care is taken as regards the
fitness of one color or form placed in juxtaposition with another; a
group of ornamental trees harmonizes with its surroundings, and even the
fruits are classified with an eye to their fitness for companionship. An
inartistic arrangement in a garden will jar upon the eye of a critical
observer, even as the ear is shocked by a discord in music. It has been
finely said: "To cultivate a garden is to walk with God, to go hand in
hand with Nature in some of her most beautiful processes, and to learn
something of her choicest secrets."
"How much is paid for the services of a capable gardener here?" we asked
of the guide.
"About two shillings per day. How much is paid in America?" he inquired.
"Not less than ten shillings," was our answer.
The incredulity of the guide was written upon his countenance, but he
made no reply.
The grounds of San Antonio, like all garden plats in Malta, are
protected by high stone walls. Here, they reach upward eighteen or
twenty feet, above which, here and there, a few towering dark green
cypress-trees are seen, standing like watchful sentinels guarding the
palace grounds. The large number of productive orange-trees makes the
place like a garden of Hesperides. The Knights of old--this having been
the summer residence of the former Grand Masters--are said to have
realized a large income from the sale of the fruit ripened in these
grounds. The orange grove contains over three thousand trees, which
would excite the envy of a successful Florida cultivator by their
thriftiness. In a favorite corner were some specimens of the evergreen
loquat; its long, overshadowing leaves and peculiar yellow fruit
reminded one of the attractive gardens of Hong Kong. At this season
fine, luscious oranges sell in the market of Valletta at twelve or
fifteen cents per dozen, while large quantities are packed and exported,
realizing profitable returns. The royal family of England has a regular
supply of this fruit forwarded from these islands, especially the
fragrant and luscious tangerine, or mandarin species, which lies so
loosely within its crumpled skin as to require only a touch to remove
it. The natural covering of this orange is full of a highly concentrated
and richly flavored oil, whence a superior perfume is produced, and also
a flavoring extract. The fruits of Malta, being grown on an arid soil,
are more juicy and savory than is usual in tropical regions, where they
develop to an abnormal size, and where, if the soil is too rich, the
pulp becomes spongy.
San Antonio is one of the loveliest and greenest spots on the island.
The view of the sea, city, and harbor from some of the elevated points
of the gardens is charming. Here the Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh
resided for a considerable time, and here one of their children,
Princess Victoria Melita, was born, in 1877. She is said to be the only
British princess ever born in a foreign dependency of England.
The fee of the property of San Antonio is in the British government,
having passed into its possession by right of conquest, like all other
property formerly belonging to the Order of St. John in these islands.
Pleasure unalloyed is not to be found on the earth. That we are in
terrestrial regions, and not in Paradise, is made clearly manifest not
only in this fruitful garden, but also in some decided form wherever we
seek enjoyment. The prominent objection to this beautiful location is
the maddening discomfort of flies and mosquitoes, for the place swarms
with them during four months of the year. It is a happy provision of
nature that we remember best the pleasures of our experiences in foreign
travel, and soon lose the recollection of the annoyances which we
encounter. One can dismiss the mosquito pest; but as we write these
lines there comes back to us, like a half-forgotten strain of music, the
recollection of sweet-smelling syringas, lilacs, and lemon verbena,
mingled with the all-pervading Maltese orange blossoms. Taken as a
whole, San Antonio is a perfect Gan-Eden, a garden of delights in which
to linger and to dream, forming a sort of fairy world, peopled with
blossoms, where wood-nymphs might hold their moonlight revels.
This is very pleasant to relate and to remember; it is enchanting for
the time being, and puts one at peace with all human nature; but as we
have just illustrated, in the instance of San Antonio, there is always a
reverse side to the picture.
Let us glance for a moment at the every-day street life of the Maltese
capital.
The observant stranger is struck with sadness upon first landing in
Valletta at sight of the swarming hordes of the unemployed who throng
the shore and some of the public squares of the city. He sees before him
an ignorant, hopeless, poor, hungry mass of humanity, and wonders where
these people can obtain sufficient bread to keep them from starving. The
manifest poverty of the prolific lower classes of Malta is appalling to
the political economist. Who would dare to sound the depth of this sea
of human want and misery, the daily lot of these hordes of half-fed men?
While looking upon such a scene, a resident with whom we were in company
was asked: "Where can this army of poor, portionless creatures bestow
themselves at night?" The reply was brief and significant: "They have
always the sky over them!" Doubtless a large percentage of these people
sleep on the bare ground, or rather on the flat stones leading up the
lateral streets, with a step for a pillow, like homeless dogs, wherever
drowsiness overtakes them. Fortunately, in this climate the poor do not
suffer from cold under any ordinary circumstances. We were told by our
companion that many of these lazzaroni were heedless rogues and
professional thieves, without the least moral sense of right and wrong.
Who can be surprised at the dishonesty of such poor, ignorant creatures?
_Is_ it dishonesty, this feverish, irregular, desperate struggle for
existence? Must not food be had at any cost? Ah, the great social
problem of dire poverty and purse-proud wealth, this startling
inequality of possession and position, this paucity of sustenance on the
one hand and plethora of means on the other, which presents itself in
every populous community all over the globe!
It is to sever the Gordian knot of this confusing problem that the
half-crazy, drinking socialist, the wholly reckless, unreasoning
nihilist, resorts to the sword and the fulminating bomb. Far be it from
us to sympathize with such disciples of anarchy; we only present facts
to the mind of the thoughtful reader. Every one admits the incongruity
of the situation. Many worthy persons give way to a false spirit of
philanthropy in connection with it. One thing is certain,--the means
adopted by these irresponsible agitators, socialist or nihilist, will
never remedy, but only augment the difficulty.
There are many rich people in Malta, while the churches--supposed
emblems of charity, peace, and good-will towards men--are uselessly
decorated with gold and silver candlesticks, precious stones, costly
marbles, valuable tapestry, and priceless works of art, articles as
foreign to any true principle of devotion as snow is to the vegetation
of the tropics. No one can travel in Spain, Italy, Mexico, or South
America--all Roman Catholic countries--without being brought face to
face with a similar state of affairs: costly cathedrals and churches
crowded with gorgeous display, upon which gold has been recklessly
lavished in all possible ways, often surrounded by a ragged and starving
populace steeped in ignorance. Is there any amount of sophistry which
can reconcile such incongruities?
On coming out of the magnificently adorned Cathedral of Guadalupe,
situated a league from the City of Mexico, not long since, the author
was literally dazed by the strong contrast which presented itself.
Passing by a dozen steps from within this rich and gorgeous temple, upon
which millions of dollars had been lavished, into an atmosphere of the
most abject poverty and dismal want was like changing from brightest
sunshine into the valley and shadow of death. A half-naked, starving
army of beggars--men, women, and children--stared one in the face, their
cadaverous features and attenuated forms, all too clearly defined,
appealing for them with more eloquence than words could do. What sort of
religion is that which can hoard jewels of fabulous value, together with
plate of gold and silver, in its churches, while the poor, crippled,
naked multitude starve outside of its towering and gilded walls?
The sense of outraged humanity was too strong for words. Even the sleek,
well-fed priest, who had acted the part of guide through the church,
looked abashed as we pointed to this tableau of misery, and then
reproachfully at the gorgeously appointed temple whose portal we had
just left behind.
How forcibly that Mexican scene is recalled while we write these lines.
At each of the two corners of the plaza nearest to the cathedral stood a
native woman beside a large receptacle of corn meal, from which, by
adding a little water and salt, she was making what is here called
polenta, or dough cakes, which she fried in small slices over a charcoal
fire. Of this plain, simple food,--probably the cheapest which can be
produced,--such of the poor creatures standing near as were possessed of
the means ate a small portion, for which they paid one penny, devouring
the cake with voracious appetite, while the rest looked on with hungry
and longing expression. The reader may be assured that the half-starved
crowd were supplied to the extent of their appetite for once with the
nutritious though simple food, while thin-cheeked mothers were seen
hurrying away with pieces of the polenta in their hands to feed their
hungry children at home. The profuse blessings which were showered upon
the "Americano" were cheaply purchased.
Within that pretentious church were idle treasures, the interest upon
which, if the principal were properly disposed of, would feed the hungry
people of Guadalupe for years. "Ah!" says the poet Shelley, "what a
divine religion might be found out, if charity were really the principle
of it, instead of faith!"
Does Christianity, as strikingly represented by gorgeous temples, filled
with hoarded, useless treasures, while surrounded by a hopeless, naked,
starving populace, render any real service to humanity? To the author's
mind, religion of this sort, so far from preventing one crime, affords
pretext for hundreds.
Let us now conduct the reader to more cheerful and attractive scenes,
and describe the picture as presented by the main thoroughfare of the
charming capital of the Knights.