Unprecedented cold of 1883--Departure from Naples--Virgil's Tomb--Journey
to Messina--Italy's future--Scylla and Charybdis--Beautiful Messina--The
_Electrico_--Malta--Knight Crusaders--Maltese society--An uncommon fish--
An earthquake at sea--Journey to Palermo--Picturesque scenery--Etna--Among
the mountains--The lights of Palermo.
There seems to have been quite an unprecedented winter in the
Mediterranean this year (1883). Marseilles, Cannes, Nice, Mentone,
Genoa, and other places, were all affected by the extreme and unusual
cold--Stromboli, and even Etna, were quite capped with snow, while in
the north of Europe the weather was comparatively mild. It was rather
unfortunate for us that it should have been so; having travelled to
escape the cold in our own island home, we had certainly not bargained
for it pursuing us wherever we went. The residents, more particularly
the poor of these semi-tropical places, were much to be pitied for the
uncommon severity with which these bleak and cutting winds visited them.
As a rule, Naples is considered tonic and bracing, not unlike Brighton,
and is exceedingly pleasant in late summer and autumn, but in the early
part of the year is trying to delicate persons. I do not think it is a
healthy place for continual residence, for the sewerage and water supply
are both very defective, and the place is over-crowded by a population
anything but clean in its habits. This, and the begging, cheating
propensities of the lower classes, go very far to counterbalance its
natural beauty of situation, and I was obliged to confess myself
decidedly disappointed in the Naples of which I had heard and expected
so much.
The hotel expenses are much the same as at Rome, and no matter how you
try to economize and cut down expenditure, you will find, when you
arrive home and tot up the figures, that the average amount per day,
travelling included, is no less than £1 for each person. You may of
course forego wines, etc., but in so doing you take your chance of being
poisoned with the water, which is very bad here, and which no one seems
to think of filtering or improving in any way. This is a great pity, and
it is to be hoped that the matter will soon receive a due amount of
attention, and that means will be taken to secure an adequate supply of
pure water, without which no place can really be considered healthy.
We remained at Naples in all five days, and on January 25th left for
Messina, from whence my wife was to make her journey to Malta, and
remain with her sister, awaiting my return to the south, for I found my
presence was required in London for a short time.
We felt genuine regret and compunction at being obliged to leave the
"Queen of the summer sea" without paying our devoirs at the tomb of
Virgil, father of Latin poets. The last resting-place of the "dead king
of melody"--he who, in his own words, "sung of shepherds, fields, and
heroes' deeds" (cecini pascua, rura, duces)--lies "shadowed by the wild
ivy," in the road leading from Naples to Puteoli:
"Ivy and flowers have half o'ergrown
And veiled his low sepulchral stone:
Yet still the spot is holy still,
Celestial footsteps mount the hill."
We had unfortunately been unable to make any excursions in this
direction, owing to our limited time.
The railway journey to Messina is both tedious and expensive, we
therefore secured berths in one of the Florio line of steamers. The day
of our departure was enjoyably warm and sunny--though perhaps a little
too warm to be pleasant in the dirty and crowded harbour of Naples,
which is the chief lounging-place of all the idlers and beggars of the
city; yet under this burst of summer sunshine Naples was in smiles
again, and we saw something of her natural beauty.
By the time the crowds of boatmen had done quarrelling with one another
to secure our fare, we were glad to get away from their Babel, and get
on board the vessel--the boatman, of course, doing all in his power to
charge us treble fare! There were some half-dozen passengers in the
saloon, travellers like ourselves. Our departure was somewhat delayed
by the steamer having to carry a regiment of soldiers to Sicily, and we
got off at six o'clock in the evening--only about an hour after the time
of starting, which was very punctual for Italians.
Naples, illuminated, and gradually enfolded in the gathering shadows of
night, is in truth a beautiful sight, and the occasional bursts of
bright flame from Vesuvius added a touch of imposing grandeur to the
scene we viewed from the deck, as we steamed away for the Straits of
Messina.
Dinner passed pleasantly; we had a very agreeable captain, and the
smoothness of the water enabled the ladies to enjoy it in comfort, and
also to spend an hour or two on deck afterwards, in the full beauty of
the clear moon and cloudless star-lit skies--
"Then gentle winds arose
With many a mingled close
Of wild Æolian sound and mountain odours keen:
And where the Baian ocean
Welters with air-like motion,
Within, above, around its bowers of starry green."
Who could be surrounded by such influences without thinking kindly and
tender thoughts of the glorious land that owns such a sea and sky? I
mused over Italy--her past, her present, and the bright future which I
hope awaits her. The Papal star is growing dim; the pageantry of the
Dark Ages is fading out, and the minds of men awakening. Slowly, but I
trust surely, a more enlightened era is approaching; and perhaps the
nineteenth century will see the last of superstition, which has held
the minds and hearts of men in such an iron grasp.
God has His own wondrous and omnipotent way of working, and man can but
guess at the manner and means by which the problems that perplex him
will be solved in the end.
"Great Spirit, deepest Love!
Which rulest and dost move
All things which live and are, within the Italian shore;
Who spreadest heaven around it,
Whose woods, rocks, waves surround it;
Who sittest in thy star, o'er Ocean's western floor!
* * * * *
"Oh, with thy harmonizing ardours fill
And raise thy sons, as o'er the prone horizon
Thy lamp feeds every twilight wave with fire--
Be man's high hope and unextinct desire,
The instrument to work Thy Will divine!"
The next morning we found ourselves close to the Stromboli group of
islands. Nearly all were capped with snow, and, with the sea around and
the blue sky above, formed a charming picture.
Soon after breakfast we were steaming through the beautiful straits, and
passing the famous Scylla and Charybdis, the former a low dark cliff
topped by an old castle, and with a little town nestling below. The sea
varied its colour constantly--blue, green, brown, and even red, mingling
and changing in the bright sunshine. As we neared Messina, we were
struck with admiration at its exceeding beauty.
"Messina sits like a queen, her white robes sweeping the sea. Never was
city so exquisitely poised between earth and sky! Very beautiful, with
fair white face, the poetic lines of your mountain drapery about you;
the azure straits gliding past you in homage, and bringing the world's
treasures to your feet! Very beautiful, but false and fickle and
cowardly in every phase of your history, a ready victim for every
invader, a facile prey, ever siding with the strongest!"
Thus a late writer, whose pen has charmingly described her life in this
lovely island.
At noon we anchored in the finely sheltered harbour, the finest, indeed,
in the Mediterranean. The commerce and shipping of Messina are most
extensive, and make her quite cosmopolitan. The city undulates with a
gentle rise, so as to present to the highest advantage every fine
building, the exceeding purity and whiteness of which is thrown up by
the dark green forest behind. In speaking of Genoa, I remarked that its
situation was unequalled in its imposing grandeur; and here in Messina
we have a beauty equally unsurpassed, though of a different kind;
perhaps as a bit of our English landscape would compare with the grander
Scotch loch scenery--a soft, bewitching, and enticing loveliness. The
style of architecture resembles that of Pisa.
We had only a few hours here, as the steamer for Malta was to leave the
same evening. There was sufficient time, however, to take a walk through
the town, which has fine and well-paved streets. There is but little of
antiquity left in Messina, except the old Cathedral, which contains
some good mosaics and bas-reliefs; and perhaps a few mementoes of the
gallant Knight Crusaders, who sorrowfully made this their temporary home
about the year 1523, after surrendering Rhodes to the hated Moslem. The
constant earthquakes, as well as the many vicissitudes of war it has
passed through, has destroyed all other relics of the past.
The hotel charges and living generally were exceedingly moderate, more
so than we had experienced since leaving England. I believe this is the
case with all the hotels in Sicily, the soil being so prolific and
productive. At 5 p.m. I saw my wife on board the Florio steamer
_Electrico_, which carried the mails, and was due at Malta the next
morning about six. It was a nice little paddle vessel, and her captain a
very gentlemanly officer; the stewardess, though a Maltese, spoke
English, and so I felt my wife would be comfortable and well cared for
during the voyage. Unfortunately, however, the wind increased, and by
morning there was quite a gale blowing, which made me a little anxious
about her safe arrival.
I was pleased that my wife should visit this small but most memorable
island, though I was unable to accompany her, as there are so many
historic associations attaching to it. During my Naval career from the
Crimean War days, I had myself often been to Malta, but to her it would
indeed be a new world.
Malta, or Melita, is probably chiefly interesting to English people as
their great Mediterranean stronghold and Naval Arsenal; to Christendom,
for the glorious deeds of the brave and self-sacrificing Knights of St.
John, and as the place where the great apostle to the Gentiles was cast
ashore and bitten by the viper, and where he preached so fervently and
effectually. These are probably the best-remembered events touching the
history of Malta. That it was originally colonized by the Phoenicians,
and taken from them by the Greeks some eight hundred years
B.C.; then captured by the Carthaginians, and afterwards by the
Romans, Vandals and Goths, Saracens and Normans successively; and,
finally, was attached to the Government of Sicily--few would care
perhaps to go far enough back to remember, content simply to commence
with its glorious and imperishable history in connection with the
chivalrous Knight Crusaders.
Owing chiefly to the labours of the brave Knights, under their grand old
masters, L'Isle Adam and La Valette, and their skill and heroism in
defending it from the repeated assaults of the Moslem,--of the Crescent
against the Cross, the fortifications are a marvel of almost impregnable
strength and engineering ability, and, owing to its wonderful provision
of underground granaries, etc., could stand a siege for years. These
great mathematical, dazzling granite walls, bristling with big guns, and
rising defiantly and almost abruptly out of the blue sea, form a proud
sight to Englishmen when approached from seaward. And, then, glancing at
its geographical position, almost in the centre of the Mediterranean, in
proximity to three Continents, and taking into consideration that other
great stronghold (the door to the Mediterranean, of which Englishmen are
even more proud), Gibraltar--and our interest in the East, one gets some
idea of its great maritime importance to England. The harbours, the
great docks (capable of holding the largest ironclads) and stores for
the equipment of our fleets, the frowning ramparts rising tier upon tier
above and around, amply confirm this impression.
But how different the Malta of to-day, with its marvellously cultivated
soil; its teeming, peaceful, and prosperous population, great docks,
fine city, and developed industries,--to the days when the valiant
Knights of St. John, under their brave old Grand-Master, L'Isle Adam,
almost sorrowfully took possession of it, as the permanent home of the
Order, when, alas! all seemed nearly lost to them! Yes, it was then
indeed but a barren, arid rock. Though wondrously fertile, considering
the small quantity of soil, Malta is still little else than a huge
fortress and series of sun-smitten rocks; and therefore, beyond the
great docks and fortifications, not very interesting except for its
history and mementoes of past glory--for there is little or no beautiful
country to see, no undulating plains, hills, lakes, or forests, but
endless rocks, stone walls, old palaces, guns, soldiers, churches, and
priests.
On arriving, however, from the sea, it is a lively scene inside the
harbour; the moles and creeks crowded with shipping, all trimly stowed
in serried rows. Hundreds of gaily painted Venetian-like boats dart off
from the shore, with their picturesquely dressed boatmen curiously
facing one another while pulling and pushing the boat along--for, says
the legend, one day the man pulling stroke suddenly missed the bowman,
and as he was never found, it was gravely supposed the devil had walked
off with him (a little before his time, for the Maltese are great
rascals, and are exceedingly superstitious), and ever since they have
faced each other, for self-protection against another Diabolical
surprise! Shoals of these boats dart off from the shore immediately on
the arrival of a ship. The "bumboat," laden with delicious fruits and
every kind of fresh provender to tempt the Blue jacket and hungry
midshipman--in my own days, utterly sick of the "salt-horse" (salt meat)
and weevilly biscuit; but now, alas! the sailor is a spoilt child and
quite daintily fed, hence the bumboat is not so great a treat to him
when coming from "blue water." Then there are legions of washwomen (much
to the relief of the officers' marine servants, who in "olden times" had
to do all their masters' washing when at sea), declaring, of course,
that they have done your washing "ages ago." Hungry tailors and other
tradesmen also besiege the ship, swarming on board to make the most out
of the new arrivals. And oh, what a Babel-like jargon of tongues
alongside--with a hundred church bells ringing and clanging around--and
the fierce though harmless quarrelling of the Maltese boatmen! Then, on
landing at one of the quays, after having, of course, been cheated in
the fare (for the Maltese will never lose an opportunity of robbing you,
though, to give the creature his due, he will not let any one else do so
if he can prevent it--you are his own sweet pastures, and his solely),
we pass through the motley, swarthy crowd of boatmen and fishermen, and,
holding our nose to exclude the rancid smell of fish, boiling oil, and
powerful odours of garlic, commence the ascent of the dreaded endless
series of stone stairs up to the city of Valetta. And, when under a
powerful sun such as one can experience at Malta in, say, July, and
before we reach the top, how often do Byron's truthful words occur to
us:
"Adieu, ye joys of La Valette!
Adieu, scirocco, sun, and sweat!
Adieu, ye cursed streets of stairs!
How surely he who mounts you swears!"
A friend who had long resided at Malta, suggested a slight alteration in
the above to--
"Adieu, ye streets of stinks and stairs!"
The reason for these wearisome steps was, I believe, owing to the
following facts:--After the brave old knight, La Valette, had repulsed
the Turks with great slaughter, and had consequently obtained a little
breathing time, he set about re-fortifying the island and rebuilding the
city, with the intention of levelling the rocky parapet for its
foundation; but, owing to reports of another expedition of the Moslem
being fitted out at Constantinople, for a still more powerful and
revengeful attack on their fortress, the city had to be finished
quickly, and so was built on the rocky slope in all haste--and hence the
steep flight of steps leading up to the highest part of the city from
the harbour.
Having taken breath, we move on and find ourselves in the stony narrow
streets of the city, almost every other person met with being a priest
or a nun, the church bells still clanging with utmost discord around.
The houses, with their green painted jalousies, are all built of a kind
of white limestone, and so reflect the dazzling heat and glare of the
sun as to prove exceedingly painful and injurious to the eyes; hence,
ophthalmia is rather prevalent at Malta. Never was there a place so
priest-ridden and superstitious; everywhere in the streets, under the
lamps at the corners, within niches cut in the walls, you see some
painted image of a saint, bedizened with jewels, silver and gold and
tinsel, grandly painted and decorated--the objects of abject adoration
to the benighted poor people and other passers-by. Indeed, of late years
some very serious disturbances have occurred at Malta, because our
soldiers and sailors would not bow down before some superstitious
priestly procession through the streets; and one feels ashamed to
confess (no longer for an Englishman _civis Romanus_) that some of these
men were punished for not doing so. Surely it should be enough that the
Maltese are allowed full freedom to enjoy their own religious, or rather
grossly superstitious, ceremonies!
In many of the palaces and churches in the city, there are very
interesting mementoes of the gallant Knight Crusaders; and the pictures
and tapestries are also very fine. Few edifices are more full of
mediæval interest than the Church of St. John, with all its treasured
relics of the brave, self-denying Knights of Malta. I scarcely think
that we in this nineteenth century quite realize the service rendered to
Christendom in their deeds of heroism and noble self-sacrifice. It was
their indomitable power and courage alone, at one time and another, that
prevented the Moslem from overrunning and devastating Europe and the
Christian world, and the fair Mediterranean shores from becoming a prey
to the hordes of merciless and cruel pirates which would have followed
in their wake. One cannot look at the great forts of Malta without a
glow of the deepest admiration for, and gratitude to, those valiant
Knights of St. John, who held the place for so many months, all alone,
against the whole power of the Moslem under the great Solyman. There at
St. Elmo, a handful of brave Knights kept the army and fleets of the
powerful Mustapha at bay, and hurled them back in assault after assault,
the walls gaping with breaches; and then, when all had been done that
brave men could do, and further resistance was hopeless, in simple
obedience to the stern commands of their loved Grand-Master, La Valette,
and to save the city and the other forts, these brave Knights preferred
death at their posts, and that a cruel death, rather than dishonour.
Wounded knights were actually wheeled on chairs to the breaches, and
there died like heroes. And the Christian world, meanwhile, stood by
with bated breath at such heroism, and awaiting the dreadful issue.
Then, when the victorious Moslem, mad with the blood of the St. Elmo
garrison, threw their united forces against the other great forts,
especially St. Angelo, where the brave Valette was in command, the
gallant besieged, inspired by the undaunted courage of their chief, long
resisted their impetuous assaults; and on the glorious 8th of September,
1565, compelled the shattered armies of the Turks to raise the siege
(leaving twenty thousand of their dead behind), and leave them alone for
ever. The Christian world once more breathed freely and was grateful.
Ever afterwards--and I believe to this day--the 8th of September has
been held in reverence by the Maltese, and kept almost as a sacred
festival, in remembrance of their great deliverance, and of the brave
Knights who fought and died so heroically.
The capital of Valetta, or rather Valette, founded in 1566, and named
after the chivalrous Grand-Master, John de Valette, was subjected to
such extensive and judicious improvements under the late governorship of
Sir Gaspard le Marchant, as to compare with many a fine colonial city.
An infinite amount of interest centres round the old Phoenician Città
Vecchia, with its numerous catacombs, and the ancient palace of St.
Antonio, where, within the last decade a little English princess,
Victoria Melita, first saw the light. A very peculiar stone quarry-like
appearance is given to Malta from the fact of its being much divided off
into small gardens, surrounded by extraordinarily high and thick walls,
in order to protect the valuable orange, lemon, and other numerous and
varied fruit-bearing trees, from the tempestuous and destructive winds
which frequently visit the island--by the name of scirocco, etc.--and
from this cause little verdure can be seen until you are on a level with
the plantations.
Though tradition says that most of the soil was originally brought to
Malta in ship-loads, etc., from Sicily and other places, I am not very
much inclined to believe it; still, there is comparatively little soil
in the island, and it is therefore astonishing to see how the place
abounds in vegetables and fruits, and almost every kind of flower, among
which are some very rare and high order of orchids. It is said that even
potatoes are exported from Malta to Greece, Turkey, and also to England,
though the root was introduced into the island only forty years ago.
What little land there is, is certainly marvellously cultivated, and
speaks volumes for the thrifty industry of the Maltese; indeed, I have
often heard that a Maltese could live luxuriously where even a canny
Scotchman would starve. It is said that a greater number of people live
in Malta than in the same number of square miles anywhere else in the
world.
There is a fishing industry at Malta, some of the more extensive bays
being completely interlaced with huge nets sunken perpendicularly. This
kind of preserve extends some miles, and is, I think, used chiefly for
catching the great tunny-fish. I shall not easily forget some little
experience of these nets during my Naval career. Being caught in a
fierce gale of wind outside Malta, we ran for a bay called Marsa
Scirocco, lying on the lee side of the island, and to our great
astonishment found ourselves firmly enmeshed in a gigantic net, parts of
it entangling our screw propeller. Indeed, the ship could not be
released until we had almost cut the net to pieces; for which our
Government had to pay some hundreds of pounds sterling to the
proprietors of the fish-preserve.
Vast quantities of mackerel and other fish are also caught, dried, and
exported to the various adjacent Roman Catholic countries; but, I
believe, excepting perhaps shellfish--prawns, lobsters, crabs,
etc.--there is little or no fresh fish worth eating.
Maltese society is very proud and exclusive, and dreadfully reserved and
jealous of the English community; indeed, little or no sympathy exists
between them, which is much to be regretted. The nobility, so-called,
are seemingly content to live almost to themselves, as it were in the
past, amongst their ancient ancestry (putting one in mind of Mr. and
Mrs. German Reed's entertainment of "Ages Ago") rather than in the
present and with the people surrounding them. They are reputed to be
excessively mean and close, but perhaps they have but a scanty allowance
to support their nobility, and therefore, by necessity, it is half
starved. A friend who has resided at Malta many years, related to me a
little incident of his own experience. For once breaking through their
usual reserve, an Englishman was invited to the funeral of one of the
Maltese nobility; when, in accordance with the usual rites, a candle or
taper is provided by the mourners, which is generally carried home by
each as a memento, and perhaps as possessing some virtue from the
priestly blessing. But the day after the funeral, much to his surprise
and disgust, having simply taken it as a mark of respect to the family,
he was requested to return the said candle, "_which had only been lent
to him_."
There is, however, apart from the Maltese element, plenty of society at
Malta, amongst the English community, governor, and Naval and Military
officers. Indeed, in the season it is rather a gay place. There is, or
used to be, a very good little opera-house, where some of the most
eminent _prima donnas_ (Spamezi and Pareppa, etc.) made their _debût_;
for the society at Malta is supposed to constitute rather a critical
audience; and if an _artiste_ once succeeds in winning its approval, she
may go to England without fear and trembling.
Malta is, I believe, considered one of the most favoured of health
resorts (especially since our good Queen Adelaide resided there), and
particularly for chest complaints. But, from my own experience and that
of many others (Europeans) who have resided there a long time, I can
scarcely reconcile this to fact. It is exceedingly hot and oppressive in
summer, the glare from the rocks and stone buildings being very
injurious to the eyes, and the heat retained by the limestone during the
day making the houses very close and sultry in the night. Towards autumn
and winter there are violent atmospheric changes, and it would appear
that the spring-time of the year and early autumn are really the only
seasons in which the weather is agreeable.
I remember about December, in the year 1855, after returning from the
Crimean War, being a whole fortnight in a dreadful gale and hurricane
outside Malta. There was a tremendous sea, sometimes vivid forked
lightning, thunder, and heavy rains, the skies as black as ink. Indeed,
it was a grand and extraordinary scene, the sea in a wild and curious
commotion, rearing up around us as it were in little mountains, and
breaking in upon us in all directions,--washing away some of our boats,
and tumbling the vessel about in a most eccentric and exceedingly
uncomfortable manner, almost as if the bottom of the sea were sinking
beneath us. One night was particularly dreadful and awfully grand; the
forked lightning cutting the black clouds asunder, the winds howling
terribly, and occasionally an outburst of flame,--or rather the
reflection of it, from the far-distant Mount Etna splendidly lighting up
for a moment the black sky. It was a strange and wonderful sight,
bringing home to me the truth of the Psalmist's words, "They that go
down to the sea in ships, and occupy their business in great waters;
these men see the works of the Lord and His wonders in the deep," etc.
Having at last put safely into Malta, we were not much surprised to hear
that while we were at sea there had been violent earthquakes felt at
Malta, and nearly all round the Mediterranean. At Malta there was great
consternation; the houses were almost rocking, the church bells clanging
to drive away the supposed evil spirit, and the people sitting up with
lighted tapers.
As regards the reputed healthfulness of Malta, I think it is a mistake,
for I believe the sanitary arrangement and sewerage system are extremely
faulty, especially in the old part of the city, where the wells are
absolutely contaminated and unsafe to use without boiling and filtering
the water. There is also a kind of bad and dangerous intermittent fever
at Malta, like that at Gibraltar--endemic, I should think. My wife has
recently lost a very dear sister (who resided in this island), chiefly,
I believe, from these last two causes, and hence I speak rather
earnestly on the subject.
Altogether, what with fever, ophthalmia, etc., one can scarcely call
Malta a healthy place. The fact is, in that latitude, with so
over-crowded a population, the natives most unclean in their habits, and
with faulty and inadequate sewerage system, one could not expect
otherwise.
In February, March, and a part of April, when my wife was there, the
weather was unsettled, stormy, and cold nearly all the time.
Strada Reale, where the great public square and governor's palace are, I
believe, is (or used to be) the principal street, and the shops there
are very attractive, especially the jewellers', with their exquisite
silver and gold filagree work; and also the places where the beautiful
Maltese lace is sold. Strada Zecca, a peaceful, shady, and silent
retreat, used to be the street of the Government offices; and we see
here many of the old palaces and houses of the Knight Crusaders, some of
which are rather peculiarly constructed inside. There are the
overhanging shading roofs, as at Genoa and other places; but the
Knights, not being permitted to marry, had no families, and so did not
require many sleeping-rooms: therefore, in most of the houses of Valetta
the reception-rooms and courts are spacious, lofty, and handsomely
decorated, and occupy by far the larger portion of the building, while
the sleeping-rooms are narrow, confined, and limited in extent.
Sliema and St. Julian's Bays, three or four miles off, are the little
Brightons of Malta, whence the residents change the sultry heats of the
city for the cool and refreshing sea breezes, healthful sea-bathing, and
_something_ in the shape of verdure and green fields. These places, St.
Paul's Bay, and the adjacent Island of Gozo, are the chief resorts for
excursions, picnics, etc. At Valetta nearly the only country walk used
to be to the (so-called) Gardens of St. Antonio; and it was rather
melancholy to see the stream of poor human beings almost confined to
this one walk, like invalids at some water-drinking health resort, or a
moving mass of regimental ants.
The industries of Malta consist chiefly of its exquisitely made silver
and gold filagree work, and its rich and Spanish-like lace, which find
ready sale on the continent; its further exports being principally dried
fish, luscious oranges and fruits, and vegetables.
Labour is remarkably cheap, the Maltese living on a mere nothing. A
little rancid oil, shark, or any other half-putrid fish, a few olives,
sour wine, and bread, and they are well feasted. Hotel expenses are not
higher than on the Riviera; but amongst the best resident classes living
is rather expensive, especially in the matter of clothing, nearly every
article of which is imported from England. In my days, _gloves_ used to
be remarkably cheap, so much so that we could indulge in a fresh pair
every evening for the Opera, and the gloves, with admittance, did not
exceed the cost of an ordinary pair of gloves alone in England. The
opera was our chief delight, and we could sympathize with the Italians
in this pleasure.
One great drawback to visiting Malta is the fear of quarantine. Very
recently a young friend of mine, an Oxford man, experienced the bitter
disappointment of going all the way there, only to be "imprisoned" in
the lazaretto, and was only able to talk to his friend from a distance
of four yards, with a gen d'arme between them. Unfortunately, his time
was too short to allow of his seeing Malta after his release from
durance vile.
* * * * *
Having seen my wife off from Messina, I had arranged to go by steamer on
the following day to Palermo, but the stormy weather had delayed the
arrival of the vessel from Reggio, so I decided to go by rail instead,
and hurried to the station in a violent storm of rain and hail.
The route was so full of interest, and the views so enchanting, that I
did not regret the change in my plans. The coast scenery was grand and
beautiful. For miles, while circling round great Etna, we were passing
over vast fields of lava--the land tumbled about like the waves of a
tempestuous sea, as if recently thrown up by some mighty earthquake, and
all sombre-coloured and sulphurous, as though we were traversing some
part of the nether world. It was a most striking contrast to the lovely
scenery we had already passed, and also to that we were approaching--Aci
Reale and Catania, in particular, comparing even with Monte Carlo and
Monaco; groves of orange and olive trees and picturesque vineyards
adorning the fine coast heights, and the blue sea beyond. The fine
expansive plains around Etna brought to mind England's great naval hero,
Nelson, for here was situated the territory of his Dukedom of Brontë,
which in those days yielded good crops of Marsala wine. I was really
sorry not to be able to spend a few days at Catania, and view more
closely the lovely region around Aci Reale; but it was just here that
we suddenly branched off to the west, and plunged into the heart of the
island. Away we went up the mountain heights, the night closing in, and
a glorious moon uprising. Sometimes we were on the mountain-tops, then
again descending into the valleys beneath, only to rise like eagles, and
mount to the summits once more; the moon circling round the peaks,
occasionally hidden, and then appearing as if again rising in silent
majesty over the beautiful landscape. About midnight we approached the
coast and proceeded along by the shore once more, the great waves
dashing almost up to the train as we rushed swiftly by. Soon I saw the
semicircular lights of the harbour of Palermo, and in a short time the
train steamed into the station.
I think this was the grandest and most interesting railway journey I
ever made, and I shall not soon forget the impression I received.