The Story of MaltaBallou, Maturin M. (Maturin Murray)
History
The Story of Malta
Ballou, Maturin M. (Maturin Murray)
Malta -- History
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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