Part 2 (2/2)
In spite of the lack of good building material, there are some very fine buildings in Malta--notably, the palace, the cathedral of San Giovanni, and the opera house. The palace has its immediate entrance from the Strada Reale, by means of an arched gateway of Oriental design, whilst iron railings extend along the whole front of the structure on either side the gate. Within is the palace square, beautifully and tastefully laid out with rare exotics and flowering trees, floral designs and fish ponds. A grand marble stairway indicates the direction we are to take to reach the interior of the pile, at the head of which is a sort of vestibule, or hall, when all further progress is barred by the presence of one of the palace functionaries. We explain our errand, said functionary demurs, pulls a long face, makes sundry excuses as to its not being the proper day and so on, whilst all the time he is making a mental calculation as to the value of the expected ”tip.” The workings of that man's mind are as patent as the day. An English s.h.i.+lling speedily smooths the wrinkles off that puckered brow as if by a miracle, and makes us the best of friends. What wonders the little medallion portrait of the Majesty of England will work, what hearts soften, what doors unlock, and what hypocrites make! With a flattering and obsequious bow our guide leads the way.
The palace was built by the Knights as their regal residence, and as everything in it has been most religiously preserved, the various rooms will present a pretty fair picture of the manner of life of these soldier priests, whose portraits adorns the walls around. To the frame of each a metal label is attached, on which is an inscription in Latin, setting forth the patronymic and virtues of the original. Some are represented in military armour with bold martial air, whilst others are depicted in the more peaceful garb of priests, or civilians, but all wear the sash and cross, peculiar to the Order, the latter symbol--known as the Maltese Cross--being found on all their coins and possessions.
Out of the portrait gallery folding doors admit us to the Parliament House, where the Government officials a.s.semble for the conduct of State business. The four walls are enriched and adorned with wonderful specimens of needlework, testifying to the patience and skill of the knights' fair friends.
But the most interesting place of all is the armoury, a vast hall at right angles to the picture gallery, in which are weapons and arms of all sizes, workmans.h.i.+p, and ages; from the light rapier and fencing helmet for friendly practice, to the two-handed sword and iron casque of thirty pounds weight, for the more deadly strife. Some highly interesting relics are here, too, the original doc.u.ment whereby Charles V. tendered the island to the Knights--a consumptive looking cannon with very large touch-holes and very small bores--stone shot, iron shot, lead b.a.l.l.s, all arranged in neat designs. Suits of armour of delicate filigree work, in silver and gold, in gla.s.s cases; other suits less costly, though of equal ingenuity, ranged along the walls in erect positions, spear in hand, or leaning on a huge sword. From the size and weight of some of these suits, I opine, the Knights must have been men of large build, a medium sized suit being rather the exception than otherwise.
After a glance at the old, lumbering State carriage of Bonaparte, with its faded, gilded trappings and armorial emblazonry, we haste away to view something else.
Next in importance to the Palace, comes the Church of St. John (San Giovanni), by far the finest building in Malta. The interior is very gorgeous, with gilded vaulted roof, finely carved pulpits, rare old crimson tapestries and monumental floor, resembling one enormous heraldic s.h.i.+eld. Beneath, lie the mouldering remains of the defunct knights, the arms of each being represented on the slabs above them, in the most delicate and accurate designs, in some cases stones more rare and costly than marble being used.
At the end of the eastern aisle is the Chapel of the Madonna, guarded by ma.s.sive silver bars, saved from the rapacity of Napoleon's soldiers by the cunning and ingenuity of a priest, who, perceiving that Bony's followers had very loose ideas of mine and thine, painted the rails wood colour, and thus preserved them inviolate.
Once more in busy, bustling, Strada Reale, with its gay shops filled with a tempting display of gold and silver filigree work, corals and laces, the latter very fine specimens of needlework indeed.
Thus far, we have performed all our movements on foot, but now, as we have to go a rather long distance over very uninteresting ground, we think it more convenient to sling our legs over a horse's back, for the journey to Civita Vecchia, better known to sailors as ”Chivity-Vic.”
This was the former capital of the island, though now, as deserted almost as Babylon, its streets overgrown with gra.s.s, its buildings crumbling ruins, and echoing to the tread of our horses' hoofs. But it is not so much to view these ruins that I have brought you here, as to visit the Catacombs, or subterranean burying grounds of the early inhabitants. These are not much compared with those at Naples, or Palermo, for instance, but to those who have seen neither the one nor the other, they will present all the charm of novelty. Though only a charnel house it is laid out with great care, in street, square, and alley, just like the abodes of men above. The bodies are mostly in a fine state of preservation, reposing in niches cut out of the dry earth, some of the tombs being double, others, again, having an additional crib for a child. It is next to impossible that organic matter can fall to decay, owing to the extreme dryness of the place, and, except that the colour has changed a little, the dead people around would have no difficulty in recognizing their own faces again if brought suddenly to life. Some of the bodies seem actually alive, a deception further borne out by their being clothed in the very garments they wore when sentient, joyful dwellers, in the city above. It is worthy of remark that, though there is but one and the same means of ingress and egress, the air is wonderfully pure, and free from any offensive odour or mustiness.
Its extreme dryness though, seems somehow to have a reciprocal effect on the palates of our party, for I hear vague murmurs of ”wanting something damp,” which, by-an-bye, break out into a general stampede. If there be any bye-laws in existence against hard riding, we are happily ignorant of them, nor have we the slightest sympathy with anxious mothers, whose dusky and grimy offspring are engaged at a rudimentary school for cookery in the mud of the road. Sailors, as a rule, don't note such items.
August 25th, to-day, after a rather short stay, we looked our last, for some years, on ”the fair isle”--St. Paul's Melita.
CHAPTER IV.
”Yet more! the billows and the depths have more!
High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast They hear not now the booming waters roar, The battle thunders will not break their rest.”
PORT SAID.--THE SUEZ Ca.n.a.l.--VOYAGE DOWN THE RED SEA.--ADEN.
The voyage from Malta to Port Said was accomplished without any notable event, except that the heat goes on steadily increasing.
August 31st, to-day, we made the low-lying land in the neighbourhood of Port Said, and by noon had arrived and moored off that uninteresting town. Coaling at Port Said is effected with great rapidity, for s.h.i.+ps have to be speedily pushed on through the Ca.n.a.l to prevent a block, thus, by the following afternoon, we commenced our first stage of the Ca.n.a.l pa.s.sage, under the escort of one of the Company's steam tugs, for s.h.i.+ps of our size may not use their own engines for fear of the ”wash”
abrading the sandy banks.
The character of the scenery soon changes, and we seem to have an intuitive perception that we are in the land of the Pharaohs. On the one side, far as the eye can reach, and for hundreds of miles beyond, a desert of glistening sand is spread before us, for the most part level and unbroken, but occasionally interrupted by billow-like undulations, resembling the ground swell at sea. Here and there a salt pond breaks the monotonous ochre of the sand. These ponds are, in the majority of cases, quite dry, and encrusted with a beautiful crystalline whiteness resembling snow, making even the desert look interesting. On the Egyptian side, a series of gem-studded lagoons stretch away to the haze of an indistinct horizon, the mirage reproducing the green and gold of the thousand isles in the highly heated atmosphere.
By 6 p.m. we had reached the first station, or ”Gare,” when we brought up alongside a jetty for the night. When darkness had set in, the wild melancholy howl of the jackal was borne across the desert by the evening breeze, a sound sufficiently startling and inexplicable if you don't happen to know its origin. What these animals can find to eat in a parching desert is, and remains to me, a mystery.
On pus.h.i.+ng on the following morning, a quail and several locusts flew on board; interesting because we are now in the region of Scripture natural history. As I was desirous of procuring a specimen of the Scriptural locust, I expressed a wish to that effect, and soon had more of them than I knew what to do with, till, in fact, I thought the Egyptian plague was about to be exemplified. I will here take occasion to thank my s.h.i.+pmates for their kindly and ready a.s.sistance, in helping me to furnish a cabinet with natural history specimens. Nothing living, coming within their reach, has ever escaped them; birds, insects, fish, reptiles, all have been laid as trophies before me to undergo that metamorphosis known as ”bottling.” I verily believe that had an elephant insinuated himself across their path, he would have found his way into my ”preserves.”
This was an extremely quiet day, everybody indulging a siesta under double and curtained awnings, until about 5 p.m., when b.u.mp! a dead stop, and a list to port. We are aground. But grounding on such a soft bed is not a serious affair, and by extra exertions on the part of ”Robert,” our tug, and a turn or two of our own screws, we were soon in deep water again. This was but the initiation ceremony; ere the termination of our commission we were destined to become pa.s.sed masters in the art of b.u.mping, as the sequel will show.
<script>