CHAPTER XIII.
Ancient Catacombs.—A Subterranean City.—Phœnician Tombs.—Grotto of St. Paul.—A Crumbling Old Capital.—Dreary and Deserted.—Bingemma Hills.—Ancient Coins and Antique Utensils.—Ruins of a Pagan Temple.—A Former Fane to Hercules.—A Garden of Delights.—Druidical Circles.—Beautiful Grotto.—Crude Native Dances.—Unique Musical Instrument.—Nasciar.—Suburb of Floriana.—A Capuchin Convent.—Grim Skeletons.
The stranger who comes to Città Vecchia seems to inhale an atmosphere of the Middle Ages which pervades everything in this quaint dwelling-place, almost as old as the sacred city of Benares, the Hindoo Mecca, which was famous before Rome was known, and when Athens was in its youth. Medina was the old Arabic name by which it was known, but probably it had other names in the far past. Phœnicians, Greeks, and Romans reared their dwellings upon its site, and have left evidences of their departed glory. Historic memories and suggestions hang about its crumbling monuments, its ruined ramparts, and its narrow footways. One of the most remarkable attractions in the vicinity is the extensive system of catacombs, which are very similar in many particulars to those of Rome, and which, if we may believe local tradition, were once connected with Valletta by a spacious tunnel. This would require a remarkable piece of engineering. To perfect such a passageway through solid rock, though it was comparatively easy to work, would involve a cost of time, labor, and money which would be hardly at the command of a primitive race. If such a tunnel did exist, it would nearly equal the Hoosac Tunnel of Massachusetts, and would be at least five miles long. The entire length of the catacombs as they now exist is computed to be fifteen miles, though there are no authentic statistics about them. Their size and regularity of construction have caused them to be called the Subterranean City. They are hewn out of the rock at a depth of from twelve to fifteen feet below the surface, small openings upward at suitable intervals admitting the necessary fresh air. Torches or lanterns are quite indispensable in visiting them, and a competent guide should always be taken. A stranger might easily become confused and lost among the intricacies of these dim, subterranean passages. Tradition tells of a schoolmaster who attempted to explore these catacombs without a guide, in company with a troop of his pupils, and, according to the story, the whole party lost their way and perished miserably.
There are several spacious halls among these underground galleries, the roof of one being supported by a line of many fluted columns wrought out of the solid rock, just as they stand. Here it is supposed that religious or pagan ceremonies of some sort took place. A solid stone, which might have served as a rude altar or place of sacrifice, was found in the centre of the hall referred to. Portions of these catacombs have been walled up in modern times, since a second party of visitors became lost in them. Along the sides of the passages there are occasionally excavations which seem to have been used for sleeping purposes, or possibly for burial nooks, wherein the bodies were hermetically sealed after death. There are places also which appear as if designed for baking ovens; indeed, there are many special arrangements of so peculiar a character that it is difficult to imagine their several uses. The origin of the catacombs and their real design are lost in antiquity, but they are known to have existed in the days of Roman sovereignty here, that is, over two thousand years ago. They may have served both as tombs and as hiding-places. The primitive Christians are believed to have fled to them for refuge, and are thought to have used them also as tombs, and yet if they ever contained any mural appointments they must have been long since removed. There is nothing in these subterranean passages now but the mouldering stones and an atmosphere of an earth-impregnated character, suggestive of humanity turned to dust. Upon the whole, one cannot but rejoice at leaving these damp, gloomy, mysterious passages far behind.
It suggests itself to the visitor that the large amount of rock which must have been removed in the formation of this Subterranean City was used for building purposes upon the surface of the island. Probably Città Vecchia itself, so near at hand, is largely composed of the natural stone thus procured. A double purpose may thus have been served,—the obtaining of means for building substantial habitations above ground, and the forming of sepulchral avenues for tombs, hiding-places, or for secret rites, either pagan or Christian. There were times when Christians were compelled to worship here in secret.
Near the entrance to the catacombs is the Grotto of St. Paul, over which an unpretentious chapel is built, dedicated to the memory of the Apostle to the Gentiles. He is supposed to have lived here during his three months' sojourn upon the group, in which time he not only converted Publius to Christianity, but also sowed the seed which bore fruit to the same effect among nine tenths of the population. According to all accounts, Christianity, as we construe the word, thus made its advent in Malta with the shipwreck which took place in St. Paul's Bay, so many centuries ago. In the middle of the grotto just spoken of is a crudely executed statue of the Apostle. The visitor is assured that the stone of this cavernous apartment is remarkable for its efficacy in the cure of fevers and of poisonous bites. Credulous people secure pieces thereof, and keep them on hand for use in an emergency. A story is told of the miraculous nature of the grotto stone, to wit: it seems that, although it is constantly cut away to supply the demand for it as a remedial agent, yet it never becomes less, but is always replaced by unknown means. The many legends relating to St. Paul and his stay upon the group are most religiously cherished and believed in at Malta, and it would be considered little less than an insult, by a native, to question their verity. If there is any truth in profane or sacred history, we are quite ready to believe that St. Paul was wrecked on the island of Malta, and that the outline of the story as handed down to us is veracious; and yet, who is it that says, "History is only a fable agreed upon"?
Some few descendants of the old Maltese nobility, as empty in purse as are their titles in any real value, keep up a degree of appearances in their moss-grown and decaying "palaces," so called by courtesy, while other edifices, once grand and pretentious, are either quite untenanted, or are occupied for commercial purposes. The town forcibly reminds one of Toledo, on the banks of the Tagus in Spain, which is equally dead and deserted, and probably of as ancient origin. Its grand edifices are now diverted to storage purposes, and its palaces closed. Here, in the day of Spanish glory, royal pageants alternated with ecclesiastic parades, and grand military displays often varied the scene. Coveted by various conquerors, she too had been besieged more than twenty times. Like Città Vecchia, her glory was at its acme in mediæval days.
In an endeavor to keep up the importance of the old Maltese capital under the rule of the Order of St. John, it was required that each new Grand Master of the Knights should come hither to be inaugurated, and here, the precedent having been established, each new bishop of the island is still consecrated. There are several other official acts which are not considered binding unless they are first promulgated at Città Vecchia. So in Russia there are certain state ceremonials, such as the crowning of a new Czar, or the marriage of a royal pair, which must be performed at Moscow, the ancient metropolis of the empire, notwithstanding the fact that St. Petersburg is so much more populous, and is the capital as well as the royal residence. But in this instance the old Muscovite capital is in perfect condition, so to speak, picturesque and beautiful, and never more populous and prosperous than it is to-day. Città Vecchia, one can easily see, must once have been a proud and stately city, surrounded by high walls and stout bastions, but its glory has long since departed. Ptolemy eulogized it in his day under the title it then bore,—Melita. The once formidable walls are now in a crumbling, neglected condition. Indeed, the charm of the old place consists in its memories alone. It was growing less populous yearly when Valletta was begun, more than three hundred years ago; the completion of the new city acted as a finishing stroke to its social and commercial interests. So rapidly was the ancient capital deserted by its inhabitants, who sought homes in the new metropolis, that, as we have intimated, ingenious laws were devised to make it more attractive to its residents.