Chapter I: Part 1

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Transcriber’s note:

Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).

Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).

These lectures each had a set of associated slides, a complete
list of which can be found on pages 117-124 at the end of the
book. These slide sets were sold separately and are not part of
the book. Some of the slides (those highlighted in =bold= in the
slide list) were inserted as illustrations in the original book,
and the captions of these illustrations are reproduced in this
etext.

The numbers in the right margin of the etext are the numbers of
the associated slides. Several of these margin slide numbers are
in parentheses ( ) to indicate that this particular slide is
being shown for a second time at this point in the lecture.

There are no Footnotes in this book.

Some minor changes to the text are noted at the end of the book.

(_See page 115._

WORLD ROUTES TO THE EAST.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 14._

VALETTA.]

THE SEA ROAD TO THE EAST

Gibraltar to Wei-hai-wei

Six Lectures Prepared for The Visual Instruction Committee of the Colonial Office

by

A. J. SARGENT, M.A.

London George Philip & Son, Ltd., 32, Fleet Street Liverpool: Philip, Son & Nephew, Ltd., South Castle Street 1912

(All rights reserved)

THE VISUAL INSTRUCTION COMMITTEE

APPOINTED BY THE SECRETARY OF STATE FOR THE COLONIES.

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF MEATH, K.P., Chairman.

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR CECIL CLEMENTI SMITH, G.C.M.G.

SIR JOHN STRUTHERS, K.C.B., LL.D., Secretary to the Scotch
Education Department.

SIR CHARLES HOLROYD, Director of the National Gallery.

SIR PHILIP HUTCHINS, K.C.S.I., late Member of the Council of
the Secretary of State for India.

SIR EVERARD IM THURN, K.C.M.G., C.B., late Governor of Fiji and
High Commissioner for the Western Pacific.

SIR CHARLES LUCAS, K.C.B., K.C.M.G.

DR. H. FRANK HEATH, C.B., of the Board of Education.

A. BERRIEDALE KEITH, D.C.L., of the Colonial Office.

H. J. MACKINDER, M.P., lately Director of the London School of
Economics and Political Science.

W. H. MERCER, C.M.G., Crown Agent for the Colonies.

PROFESSOR MICHAEL E. SADLER, C.B., LL.D., Vice-Chancellor of
the University of Leeds.

A set of Lantern Slides has been prepared in connection with this book, and is sold on behalf of the Committee by Messrs. Newton & Co., 37, King Street, Covent Garden, W.C. (late of 3, Fleet Street, E.C.), from whom copies of this book can be obtained. The complete set of 369 Slides may be had for £29 10_s._ The Slides to accompany the several Lectures will be sold at the following prices: First Lecture, £4 17_s._ 6_d._; Second Lecture, £5 5_s._; Third Lecture, £4 10_s._; Fourth Lecture, £5 7_s._ 6_d._; Fifth Lecture, £5 15_s._; Sixth Lecture, £4 15_s._ The Slides will also be sold in sets in which the maps alone will be coloured. The prices in this case will be--for the complete set of 370 Slides, £20; First Lecture, £3 10_s._; Second Lecture, £3 8_s._; Third Lecture, £3 6_s._; Fourth Lecture, £3 10_s._; Fifth Lecture, £3 12_s._ 6_d._; Sixth Lecture, £3 13_s._ 6_d._ The Slides sold on behalf of the Committee may now be purchased separately in batches of not less than two dozen.

The Slides of this Series are Copyright.

PREFACE.

The plan of these lectures is due to Mr. H. J. Mackinder, who wrote the series of lectures on India. The author of the present series is Mr. A. J. Sargent, and the lectures have been revised on behalf of the Visual Instruction Committee by Sir Everard im Thurn and Sir Charles Lucas. The slides are mainly derived from pictures painted and photographs taken by Mr. A. Hugh Fisher on behalf of the Committee, supplemented by photographs supplied from various sources. The Committee have gratefully to acknowledge the abundant help which they have received in this respect.

The next series to be issued will be on Australasia, and the lectures are already well advanced.

MEATH.

_March, 1912._

PUBLICATIONS OF THE VISUAL INSTRUCTION COMMITTEE.

A. Seven Lectures on the United Kingdom.

By Mr. H. J. MACKINDER.

In the following Editions issued on behalf of the Committee by Messrs. Waterlow & Sons, Ltd.:--

=1. Eastern Colonies Edition, Sept., 1905.=

In use in Ceylon, the Straits Settlements, and Hong Kong.

=2. Mauritius Edition, June, 1906.=

In use in Mauritius.

=3. West African Edition, Sept., 1906.=

In use in Sierra Leone, the Gold Coast, and Southern Nigeria.

=4. West India Edition, Sept., 1906.=

In use in Trinidad, British Guiana, and Jamaica.

=5. Indian Edition, March, 1907.=

In use in the following Provinces:--Madras, Bombay, Bengal, the
United Provinces, the Punjab, Burma, Eastern Bengal and Assam,
the Central Provinces, the North West Frontier Province, and
British Baluchistan.

=6. Indian Edition, for use in the United Kingdom, Jan., 1909.
Price One Shilling net.=

B. Eight Lectures on India, October, 1910.

By Mr. H. J. MACKINDER.

Published by Messrs. GEORGE PHILIP & SON, LTD., 32, Fleet Street, London, E.C., price 8_d._ net in paper covers, or 1_s._ net in cloth.

[=A Lecturer’s Edition= has also been issued, price in cloth,
1_s._ net, and may be had of MESSRS. NEWTON & CO., 3, Fleet
Street, E.C.]

Six Lectures on the Sea Road to the East.

By Mr. A. J. SARGENT.

Published by Messrs. GEORGE PHILIP & SON, LTD., price 8_d._ net in paper covers, 1_s._ net in cloth.

[In this book the ordinary edition and the lecturer’s edition
are combined.]

CONTENTS

PAGE
LECTURE I

GIBRALTAR AND MALTA 1

LECTURE II

MALTA TO ADEN 20

LECTURE III

THE INDIAN OCEAN 39

LECTURE IV

CEYLON 57

LECTURE V

THE MALAY REGION 75

LECTURE VI

THE CHINESE STATIONS 99

_NOTE.--The reader is asked to bear in mind the fact that these lectures are illustrated with lantern slides. The numbers in the margin of the text are the numbers of the slides, of which a complete list will be found on pp. =117-124=._

LECTURE I

GIBRALTAR AND MALTA

In the great land mass which is formed by Europe and Asia is
included upwards of a third of the land surface of the Globe and
about two-thirds of the total population. Grouped at the western
end are the three hundred and fifty millions of Europe, while the
majority of the seven hundred millions of Asia are crowded into
the southeastern corner. Between the two, from the Red Sea coast
of Arabia to the western boundary of China, lies a broad band
of desert and steppe, mountain and plateau, thinly peopled and
difficult to cross. On the north, the sea passage is barred by
the ice of the Arctic; while the only land link between west and
east is the thin line of the Siberian railway. But on the south,
from the Baltic to the Sea of Japan, is a broad highway, free 1
to all and within easy reach of the great trading nations of
Europe and Asia. From end to end we see it running along the
coasts and through inland seas; so that ships are rarely out of
sight of land for many days together. At frequent intervals are
straits to be passed and corners to be turned by every ship; and
here, where the sea road must touch the land, are the key points
for trade in time of peace or strategy in time of war.

Britain is responsible for the government of over three hundred
million Asiatics and carries on a great trade with the remainder;
in fact, about two-thirds of the merchant shipping passing
through the Suez Canal is under the British flag. We have
important interests, too, on the eastern side of Africa, while
a new Britain, British in race and political organization, is
growing up in Australasia. We are the chief users of the main
road to this region of the world, and are thus most interested in
its condition and control.

For ships sailing from the western coasts of Europe, otherwise
than round the Cape of Good Hope, the only gateway to the long
passage to the East is the Strait of Gibraltar, at its narrowest
a little less than half as broad as the Strait of Dover. Let us
look for a moment at the map. We have passed Capes St. Vincent 2
and Trafalgar, and as we turn in from the Atlantic, far away on
our right is Cape Spartel, the corner of Africa, and beside it
the Moroccan port of Tangier. We had interests on this coast in
times past, since Tangier was a British Possession more than two
centuries ago. It came to the English Crown not by conquest but
as part of the dowry of Catherine of Braganza, wife of Charles
II; but after twenty years it was abandoned to the Moors as
useless. Bombay also was included in the dowry: but how different
is its later history!

We are now inside the Strait; on our left, just at the point
where the shores of Europe approach most nearly to Africa, stands
the Spanish fortress of Tarifa. Here, where it is narrowest, we
might expect to find the controlling point of the gateway; but
we must look beyond. Further east the Strait begins to broaden
out until it loses itself suddenly in the open waters of the
Mediterranean, where the coasts of Spain and Africa trend away
sharply to north and south. Here, on a narrow spur running
southwards, with the open sea to the east and the bay and town
of Algeciras to the west, lies the Rock of Gibraltar. Fourteen
miles away to the south, on another jutting point, is the town
of Ceuta, which belongs to Spain. Five towns keep guard over the
gateway to the Mediterranean, but only one holds the key; we may
understand this better when we have learnt something of Gibraltar
and its history.

We think and speak of the Rock rather than the town or bay;
with good reason, since Gibraltar without the Rock would be of
small value to us. As we steam in from the west we see it 3
rising from the water like an island block broken off from the
mountains of Spain. Now we are drawing nearer and the block 4
begins to take shape. A long ridge, carved out into detached
peaks, drops sharply to the north where the low flat isthmus,
scarcely visible, links it with the mainland. On our right hand,
towards the south, it descends in steps to the narrow point on
which we can just see the lighthouse. With a little use of the
imagination we may liken the ridge to a crouching beast keeping
guard over the waters of the Strait below. Now the houses of the
town begin to show against the dark background of hill, and 5
soon we pass a cruiser at anchor and enter the new harbour, with
its docks and coaling wharves enclosed in protecting moles.

We have seen Gibraltar on the west from the level of the sea; let
us turn to the map for a moment and take a bird’s-eye glance at 6
the whole peninsula with its surroundings.

The Rock is small: its length three miles from north to south,
its greatest breadth not more than three-quarters of a mile. Its
area is a little less than two square miles, so that it is quite
the smallest in the list of our foreign possessions. A high and
narrow ridge, rising over a thousand feet, falls steeply to the
land on the north and to the sea on the east; towards the south,
where the ridge is lower, it ends in cliffs against which the sea
beats always and prevents all access. On part of the west side
the lower slopes are more gentle, and on these lies the town with
the harbour at the foot.

Let us look now at the approach to Gibraltar from the mainland 7
of Spain. Here we see a corner of the northwest face of the
rock, where it overlooks the isthmus. Notice how sheer it
rises from the plain, with the flooded moat at its foot. The
narrow road, on which we are standing, between the Rock and
the sea margin, is the sole entry to the fortress, and we may
understand how, in a spot such as this, a small force could
easily defy an army. Here is another view of the Causeway, 8
from the hill above, which shows us how narrow is the link
connecting the Rock with the mainland. Gibraltar is, in effect,
an island; the only real approach is on the west, from the sea.

We will now explore further. All round us are guns and
fortifications old and new; soldiers are everywhere; we can see
little without special permission, and the authorities are very
inquisitive as to our business. The main gates are locked and
guarded at night, and we take the time and set our watches by
gunfire. We soon learn that we are in no ordinary town, but in
a fortress prepared for war. Here we see one of the hot and 9
narrow streets. In the foreground is one of the olive-skinned
natives of the Mediterranean. We shall find them everywhere about
the harbour; in fact they seem far too many for a small confined
town. But in the evening we may meet them streaming away by the
north gate, bound for the Spanish town of Linea, which is visible
in the distance beyond the neutral ground of the isthmus. There
is much work to be done in the harbour, but there is no room for
the town to expand, so it is not possible to house the workmen
on the spot. It is necessary to limit the number of civilians
living in the town, for past experience has proved that they are
a danger to health in time of peace, through overcrowding, and
a source of weakness to the fighting garrison in time of war.
Gibraltar must be governed purely as a fortress; its history is
a history of war; in time of peace it has little interest.

Thirteen sieges in five centuries are recorded by historians
since its capture from the Moors by Ferdinand of Castile in
1309; a relic of the Moorish occupation still survives in the 10
old castle which we see here; of the sieges the last three
alone concern us. In the autumn of 1704, only a few months after
a British admiral had hoisted the flag and claimed the Rock in
the name of Queen Anne, France and Spain with a great fleet and
army attempted its recovery. In the spring of the next year the
garrison, without food or powder, reduced by disease and fighting
to less than 1,500 effective men, and facing the constant attack
of a vastly superior force, could scarcely hope to hold out much
longer. But relief at last came from the sea. A British squadron
broke through the blockading fleets and brought supplies and
reinforcements; and though it sailed away again the real siege
was over. On the land side the Rock was impregnable; the guns of
that day were useless against its defences; Gibraltar was ours to
hold so long as we could command the sea.

At the peace of Utrecht, which ended the war of the Spanish
Succession, we retained Gibraltar, and the people of England,
impressed by the siege and the splendid defence of the Rock,
resolved to keep it. It was only natural that Spain should
wish to recover a fortress which was geographically part of
her territory and of little value to us at the time. For years
her diplomatists tried to persuade us to restore it; and when
diplomacy failed, force was attempted once more. In 1728, great
preparations were made for another siege; even Cadiz was stripped
of its guns to provide a siege train, and an army of 20,000 men
fronted the little garrison of 1,500. The Government in England
set small value on the place, so that the defences had been
utterly neglected. The guns were worn out and the fortifications
in decay, but the garrison worked day and night in parties of 500
to repair the damage. A heavy bombardment undid much of their
work, but it also ruined the large brass guns of the enemy, while
month by month we poured in men and supplies from the sea, until
the garrison was raised to over 5,000. The siege proved that
Gibraltar, properly manned, had nothing to fear from an assault
by land, and the people of England were more than ever convinced
that it was quite impregnable. The real danger was to come fifty
years later, when we lost for a time the command of the sea.

The last and greatest siege began in 1779, when the fortunes of
England were at a low ebb in the war of American Independence,
and a French and Spanish fleet had sailed with impunity up
the English Channel. In spite of despatches from Governors
and discussions in Parliament, the defences of Gibraltar were
again in a thoroughly neglected state. It is not to the English
Ministers or Parliament that we owe our present possession of it,
but to the energy and foresight of General Eliott, the Governor
at the time. It is true that at the last moment we hurried out
more troops and supplies; but when the attack began in June,
1779, the garrison, with no hope of further relief from the sea,
was ill fitted to withstand a long siege by the joint forces of
France and Spain.

Let us climb up to one of the great galleries begun during 11
the siege and hewn out of the solid limestone rock, with their
rows of gun-ports like windows in the face of the precipice. Let
us look out through one of these windows and try to imagine 12
the scene in the days of the siege. Here we have a fine view of
the country below. The blank space, without houses, which 13
we see is the neutral ground, and beyond it the besiegers’ lines
were drawn right across the isthmus. Across this narrow space
the guns fired round shot, the enemy attacked and the garrison
made sorties. Further away is the town of Linea, and right under
our feet is the goal of the attack, the narrow entrance to the
fortress itself. But the scenes on the isthmus can never be
repeated; long-range artillery has changed the conditions of
warfare; the heavy guns on the landward side of the Rock now keep
watch and ward over the distant hills.

This was the view of the besieged on the land side; the sea
also was closed to them. Our fleets were engaged elsewhere and
supplies were cut off by a swarm of hostile cruisers in the
Strait. The troops were on half rations from the first, while
at the end of a twelvemonth the people were glad to search the
Rock for wild roots and weeds. Gibraltar was never nearer to
surrender. At the last moment, Rodney, on his way to the West
Indies, defeated the Spanish fleet off Cape St. Vincent and
brought in a convoy. But he could not stay, and the siege closed
in for a second year. Morocco joined Spain, so that the small
supplies which had reached the garrison in spite of the blockade
were now cut off. To crown all, the food brought from England was
mostly salted, and scurvy broke out. To add to the trials of the
defence, the enemy now attacked from the sea with small gunboats
rowed in close to the shore under cover of darkness. The town
was a fair target which they could hardly miss, while they were
small and offered no chance in the darkness to the gunners of the
garrison. So for the rest of the siege this nightly bombardment
went on unchecked, as to reply was mere waste of powder which
could ill be spared.

In the spring of 1781, a powerful English fleet again brought
relief, and later in the year a brilliant sortie by the garrison
ended in the destruction of the besiegers’ lines and delayed
the final attack. But early in 1782 Minorca surrendered to the
French, who were thus set free to prepare for a great joint
effort. For a time there was a lull in the storm, while ships
were collected in the bay and men and stores on the mainland.
Rewards were offered for the best plan for capturing the
fortress, and people came from all over Europe to watch the final
act in the great drama. The preparations ended in a grand assault
by land and sea in September, 1782. For four days without ceasing
thirty thousand men with nearly three hundred guns attacked from
the isthmus. In the Bay were fifty warships with the gunboats
and the famous floating batteries. To oppose this huge armament
with its five hundred guns or more, the defenders had some eight
thousand men and less than a hundred guns. It was enough. How
the attack failed is told in every history. It is worth remark
that the losses of the garrison in the bombardment were very
small, not more than might have been expected in a mere skirmish.
The guns of those days were of little use against the natural
defences of the Rock. Soon after, Lord Howe, in the teeth of the
combined fleets, broke the blockade and brought the third relief;
and although the fighting continued for a time, the real siege
was over as soon as the English fleet had forced the passage of
the Strait.

When we think of these sieges, we can perhaps understand better
why Gibraltar, rather than any of the other four towns, holds
the key to the Strait. When our fleet was away the fortress was
powerless and the enemy could close the passage. A fleet alone
could keep it open, but a fleet, now as then, must have a harbour
close at hand as a base. In the case of Gibraltar only of the
five towns do we find both fortress and fleet together.

The history of Gibraltar in the nineteenth century has been
mainly concerned with the difficulties of governing its
miscellaneous population and the problem of improving the
defences and adapting them to the ever-changing conditions of
modern warfare. Towards the end of the century the need of
further dock accommodation for the fleet became pressing. The
new harbour was begun in 1893, but while it was in course of
construction the science of artillery was also making great
progress, and it has been pointed out that the docks could be
assailed by the fire from long-range guns hidden behind the hills
on the mainland. So from the purely military point of view the
fortress is perhaps less impregnable than in former times.

In the matter of internal administration there has been much
improvement. Gibraltar has gained a bad reputation in the past
for climate and health. The bare rock adds to the burning heat of
the summer sun; the town is shut off from fresh breezes by the
hill, and when the Levanter blows from the east, and heavy clouds
hang over the summit of the ridge, the clammy air makes the heat
still more oppressive. There have been severe epidemics on the
Rock, due largely to the bad drainage of the old town and the
want of sufficient water. Most of the rain falls in the winter
months, and a heavy downpour is soaked up at once by the porous
rock. There are no springs, so the water is collected in tanks
from the roofs of the houses, while the authorities have built
reservoirs and artificial catches on the lower hill slopes and
have set up condensing engines as a reserve in time of need. 14
Here is one of these catches on the north peak above Catalan Bay;
it is made of sheets of corrugated iron, coated with cement, and
lies like a roof over the porous sand beneath. There are wells,
too, on the low ground to the north; but the water is brackish
and not good for drinking. Better drainage and more water have
greatly changed the condition of the town; so that the water
famines and epidemics of the past are not likely to recur; but
food must always be imported, as there is no room to grow it on
the Rock, with its small area and poor soil.

Yet all is not bare and dry, as we shall see if we continue 15
our tour of the peninsula. We drive through the old south gate to
the Alameda gardens, the beauty spot of Gibraltar. Here are 16
shaded walks and open spaces as in an English park, though many
of the plants are strange to us. But we are even here reminded
of the fortress, since on the level parade ground we see 17
the troops of the garrison at drill in the cool of the early
morning. Our road runs through a grove of trees; there is 18
the southern suburb in front of us, and below as we turn round is
spread out the harbour and dockyard, with the calm bay of 19
Algeciras beyond. We pass more old fortifications spanning 20
the road, and come out above Europa point, the southern 21
outlook of the Rock. Here is the lighthouse, which we saw from
the steamer, standing on the low cliffs. We have left the trees
behind us and all is bare and windswept; but the fresh breeze
brings relief after the stifling heat of the town, and so in
this corner the Governor has his summer cottage. Here is a 22
view taken from it. We continue our walk round the eastern side
of the point, past the old batteries, only to find that the 23
path ends suddenly, where the hill comes sheer down into the sea.
As we have a special permit, let us climb the heights and see
what is beyond the corner. The narrow ridge with its sharp 24
peaks stretches away to the north; we are looking along its steep
eastern slope. Down below, in a little hollow, hemmed in by the
sea and the hill, is the village of Catalan Bay, with its 25
colony of Genoese fishermen, descendants of those who settled on
the Rock when the Spanish inhabitants left it two centuries ago.
Here are the fishermen and their boats at close quarters. 26
Beyond the bay is a long line of surf beating on the low eastern
shore of the isthmus, and in the distance, hidden by the mists,
the range of the Sierra Nevada. On the middle peak is the 27
signal station, with the old wall of Charles V. running down the
hillside; and behind it the aërial line joining the station to
the town. Here ends our journey. The signal station is the eye
of Gibraltar, ever watching the sea and the Strait, and ready to
give instant warning of an enemy’s coming to the guns and ships
below.

We think of Gibraltar to-day as one of the most valuable and
necessary links in the chain of communication with the East;
yet in the eighteenth century, some of the most patriotic and
far-seeing among English statesmen were ready and even eager
to restore it to Spain. Over and over again it was offered in
exchange for some other place, or as a bribe for the Spanish
alliance. In 1728, the Cabinet was prepared to surrender it
without any return; Lord Townshend, writing to our ambassador,
explains why they hesitated. “I am afraid that the bare mention
of a proposal which carried the most distant appearance of laying
England under an obligation of ever parting with that place would
be sufficient to put the whole nation in a flame.” Even in 1783,
after the great siege, we proposed to exchange Gibraltar for
Porto Rico. The policy of our ministers was not so unreasonable
as it seems at first sight. Our trade with the Near East was not
increasing, and we had no special interests in the Mediterranean,
so that it seemed a waste of strength to maintain a costly
fortress there, when all that we could spare was needed for the
defence of our distant dominions. In fact, France seemed to be
the Power marked out by her history and geographical position as
the natural ruler of the inland sea; and it was the sentiment of
the English people rather than any practical justification in the
conditions of the time which made us cling obstinately to our
conquest.

We may realize more clearly the place of Gibraltar in British
policy if we turn for a moment to another outpost in this region,
which we held for most of the eighteenth century. Minorca
was captured soon after Gibraltar, and the two were commonly
associated since they both served a like purpose. Gibraltar
divided Carthagena from Cadiz, and Toulon from Brest; it was 28
a bar to the union of the Mediterranean and Atlantic fleets
of France or Spain. But in the eighteenth century France was the
more dangerous enemy, and from the point of view of our relations
with France, Minorca was more valuable than Gibraltar. Minorca
had no land attack to fear and was better placed than Gibraltar
for keeping guard over Toulon, the great arsenal of the French
navy in the Mediterranean. The value of both stations lay in
their influence on our fights in the Atlantic and the English
Channel, since our road to India was round the Cape and we had
no thought of the Mediterranean as an alternative. At the end
of the century the eyes of British ministers were opened, when
Gibraltar became associated not with Minorca but with Malta. It
was Napoleon Bonaparte who first directed our policy towards
Egypt and drove us to the occupation of Malta.

In 1797, Minorca was no longer ours; we had retired from Corsica
and Elba after a short occupation, and not a single British
warship was to be seen east of Gibraltar; the Mediterranean
became for a time a French lake. Napoleon had been waiting and
planning for this, and at once started on his great expedition
to Egypt and the East. The expedition was part of a far-reaching
design: Egypt was to be colonized by France, a canal cut through
the Isthmus of Suez, and England to be attacked by way of India,
while the Dutch and Spanish fleets kept us busy in the North Sea
and the Atlantic. The defeat of the Dutch off Camperdown and of
the Spanish off Cape St Vincent upset this elaborate plan, and in
the spring of 1798 Nelson was in the Mediterranean. The French
had a week’s start; their destination was uncertain. They were
expected in Ireland, Sicily, Portugal; anywhere but in Egypt.
Napoleon had been in Egypt for a month when Nelson’s long search
ended in the battle of the Nile and the consequent cutting off of
the French from their supports at home.

Malta had been occupied by the French without trouble, as there
was treachery within the walls; it needed two years of blockade
by the Maltese people, aided by our fleet, to compel the garrison
to surrender. Still we did not realize its value. At the peace of
Amiens we agreed to give it back under guarantees to the Knights
of St. John, in spite of the strong protests of the Maltese. We
prepared to withdraw our troops, but changed our plans at the
last moment, through suspicion of Napoleon’s design; and the
island remained in our possession with the full concurrence and
goodwill of its inhabitants. When the war broke out again, the
French occupied Italy; but Sicily was guarded by the British
fleet and was used by us as a base from which to harry the French
on the mainland and cut off their supplies by sea. It was a fine
object-lesson in the value of a secure island base in these
waters as an aid to the command of the sea.

A glance at the map will make clear the importance of the 29
position of Malta. It lies midway between Gibraltar and Port
Said, the entrance and exit of the Mediterranean, where Sicily
stretching out towards the projecting corner of Africa divides
the long narrow sea into two distinct basins. The entry to the
eastern half is either by the broad passage between Cape Bon and
Sicily, or by the narrow strait of Messina. Malta blocks the one
passage and is within easy reach of the other.

Gibraltar has been made by the Rock; its harbour is modern and
artificial; but the harbour of Valetta is as old as the island
and was used long before the town existed. Here is a plan of 30
the harbour: we see that it consists of two deep inlets with
a spur between on which stands the main town. The entrance is
narrow, and thus easily defended, while the inlets run far into
the land and offer safe anchorage for the largest vessels. The
southern inlet, partly closed by a long breakwater, forms the
Grand Harbour, into which we are steaming. On our right, at 31
the corner above the breakwater, is the castle of St. Elmo: 32
on our left is fort Ricasoli, guarding the entrance. Higher 33
up are fort St. Angelo, on a jutting peninsula, and other forts
and bastions on every point of vantage; while the main town and
suburbs are encircled on the land side with ramparts and deep
trenches. Here is a view towards the harbour mouth which 34
gives a good picture of the old town. The view is from the upper
_Baracca_, where the old knights of Malta used to walk to take 35
the air. Here is another view from the lower _Baracca_, but
looking up the harbour. In the harbour a long line of warships
lies at anchor, and from the water’s edge the town rises up in
steep streets and terraces. Let us climb up one of the main 36
streets leading from the water front. It is not an ordinary
roadway, but a staircase with shallow steps of stone, owing to
the steepness of the hill. The tall houses, with their weathered
yellow stone, their carved fronts and overhanging balconies, and
their heavily barred windows looking out on the street, might
well belong to some old Italian city. The whole city has an air
of dignity and age which we should hardly expect to find in a
small and isolated island. Even the great forts suggest mediæval
history and romance, armour and swords, rather than bayonets and
quick-firing guns. They are very different from the batteries of
Gibraltar. In fact, Valetta is far more than a mere fortress; it
has a history, a people and a language all its own. The upper
classes have been affected by contact with the Latin races of
Southern Europe, while there is a strong Arab strain in the mass
of the people; but all alike are Maltese, proud of their country
and clinging tenaciously to their old customs and language. Here
we see a portrait of a gentleman of pure Maltese descent, and 37
here again a Maltese lady, wearing the _faldetta_, or hooded 38
cloak, a remnant of national costume. The hood is still worn
very generally by ladies in the street, and we may perhaps
connect it with the Eastern custom of concealing the face, though
it is not always used for this purpose by the Maltese, and their
own tradition traces its origin to the insults of the French
soldiers at the time of the occupation.

Malta is the meeting-place of East and West, and its position in
the Mediterranean has determined its destiny. From the beginning
of history every dominant race in the Mediterranean has held
it at one time or another. Romans and Carthaginians fought for
it: the Arabs occupied it for two centuries and left their mark
on the language and the people: then came the Normans in the
eleventh century and brought it into close contact with Europe;
and finally, in 1530, it was handed over by the Emperor Charles
V. to the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, better known as the
Hospitallers, who had been driven from Rhodes, their earlier
home, after a great siege by the Turks. Thus Malta became an
outpost of Christendom, barring Mohammedan progress westward, and
a safe base for the knights in the perpetual war which they waged
against the infidel in the eastern Mediterranean. It is no matter
for surprise that three times in the course of twenty years the
Turks besieged the knights with powerful armies; though each time
they were beaten back with great slaughter. At the date of the
third attack, in 1565, La Valette was Grand Master of the Order.
On the retreat of the Turks he founded the new town of Valetta,
round the harbour and forts which he had so well defended. The
Order was wealthy, with vast possessions in Europe; princes and
prelates contributed money as a thank-offering for victory over
the Turk, and crowds of skilled workmen were brought over from
the mainland. So the new city grew, with its fortifications
and palaces, a fit home for a knightly aristocracy which was
distinguished alike for its prowess in war and for its luxury in
time of peace.

The city remains much as it was. The Grand Master’s palace is
now the residence of the Governor; here in the armoury we 39
can still see the armour and weapons of its former owners. At
Citta Vecchia, the former capital, we find the old Court of 40
Justice converted into a hospital. Here again is the house 41
of one of the knights made useful as a government school, and
here the Auberge, or club house, of the knights of Castile 42
in the occupation of the Royal Artillery; while the beautiful
cathedral of St. John, built by the knights, still stands to 43
remind us of the combination of religion and fighting which was
so characteristic of the mediæval world. We can still see, 44
also, the great aqueduct, built to bring water to the city from
the distant springs. Everywhere we have preserved and adapted the
work of the knights, so that Malta is a picture of the past for
the most part unspoiled.

_Copyright._) (_See page 3._

GIBRALTAR FROM THE WEST.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 7._

THE ISTHMUS AND LINEA FROM THE GALLERIES.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 14._

FORT ST. ANGELO, VALETTA.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 18._

LACE MAKERS, GOZO.]

Outside the towns there is little to see in Malta. Here is 45
a view across the country, and here a wider view from the 46
ramparts of Citta Vecchia; it looks dreary enough, with high
stone walls crossing it in every direction with a few cypresses
showing above them, and here and there a grove of olives. The
walls are necessary, as the island is exposed to every wind that
blows, and above all to the _gregale_, the boisterous north-east
storm wind. Even more unpleasant is the Sirocco, a warm damp wind
which blows in late summer and early autumn from the Sahara. The
summer is hot, and usually without a cloud; and though heavy
rains fall in the winter, they quickly soak into the porous
rock. Though it seems so bare and rocky and the soil is thin,
yet Malta is well cultivated and produces splendid crops on its
little farms. But there are too many people for its small area,
since the whole Maltese group is only about half as large again
as the Channel Islands; and as the Maltese are loath to emigrate,
much food must be imported, and large quantities of grain 47
are stored for emergency in the old underground granaries 48
which we see here, hewn from the solid rock. Everything is of
stone in Malta; the island is one great mass of limestone with
the thinnest covering of soil. We may cross the open country by
the narrow gauge railway and enter Citta Vecchia by the old 49
gateway. The place seems sleepy and lifeless, since its people
have migrated to Valetta. There are relics in it of very early
days; a Norman house which we may recognize by the shape of 50
its doors and windows, and even still older, the remains of 51
a Roman villa. But even here, in this quaint old town, we 52
find soldiers of the Maltese regiment at drill, to remind us that
a fortress is not far away.

We will now leave Valetta, with its harbour and forts, its
close-packed houses and busy streets, to visit another island 53
of the Maltese group, more thinly populated than Malta and more
old-fashioned and rural. We sail northward along the coast,
past the deep bay which tradition connects with the wreck of St.
Paul, past the islet of Comino, with its solitary castle, lying
in mid-channel, and reach the landing-place of Gozo. Here, on the
side facing Malta, the coast is low; but the rest of the island
is bordered by steep limestone cliffs, hollowed out into caves
and grottos. One of these our guide will show us as the very cave
of Calypso described by Homer. We land and drive towards the 54
old capital, Rabato, re-named Victoria, which lies in the centre
of the island, like the old capital of Malta; but there is no
deep inlet on the coast to give rise to another Valetta. From the
walls of the old castle, close to the cathedral, we can look 55
across the same flat country, cut up into pieces by stone 56
walls, which we saw in Malta. But the countryside is brighter; on
our drive to Rabato we pass gardens where vegetables are grown
for the Valetta market; thick hedges of scarlet geranium; fields
of tall spiked red clover and banks of wild thyme and vetch. Gozo
has been noted for its honey from very early times, and there
is abundance of food here for the bees. Everywhere are herds of
goats tended by half-clad children, and outside the houses we
may see whole families of women and girls busy making lace. 57
The Maltese lace which we buy comes mainly from Gozo, where the
industry has existed for thousands of years. Here is one of the
old houses; notice its curious eastern look; we shall find 58
that even the language seems to differ somewhat from that of the
Maltese and to be allied more to Arabic.

We are in an old-fashioned world, with little to remind us of
Europe except the churches and the decaying fortifications of
Rabato. But before the Arabs, before the Romans, and perhaps even
before the Phœnicians, there were people in these islands who
have left strange traces of their occupation. In both islands
are to be found fragments of very ancient enclosures or temples,
built of huge stones piled together without mortar, such as we 59
have in these two pictures. It may be that the race of these 60
old builders still survives to some degree in the Maltese, and
they may well be proud to believe that they have been tenants
of the islands without a break from before the beginning of
the history of the races of modern Europe. Whatever the exact
origin of the Maltese may be, in speaking of Malta and Gibraltar
together we are certainly linking the very old with the very
new. Gibraltar has no real native people and no continuous
history; even from the point of view of naval strategy it is
essentially modern. Malta was a naval base in the days when trade
and civilization were confined to the Mediterranean; the opening
of the Suez Canal has merely added to its former importance.
Gibraltar only comes into history when western civilization has
spread to the outer seas and the broad Atlantic.

LECTURE II

MALTA TO ADEN

On our voyage from the English Channel to Malta we are never
out of touch with the countries of Western Europe. Even on the
African coast European influence or control is becoming stronger
every year. We have seen how our occupation of Gibraltar was
incidental to our quarrels with France and Spain, and these
same quarrels, in the end, brought Malta into our possession.
But Malta is on the edge of the Near East, and in looking at
its history in mediæval times we were always concerned with the
rivalry of the West with the East, Europe with Asia. So even
to-day, though Europe has proved itself the stronger, we shall
find that beyond Malta we enter a new world where the relations
of West and East are not yet finally settled. This uncertainty is
shown alike in our own position and in that of the other great
Powers of Europe. The problem of the Near East is still one of
the chief worries of diplomats and governments.

From Malta to Aden is perhaps the most important section of the
great trade route which we are following; yet right through,
from the entrance of the Eastern Mediterranean to the outlet
of the Red Sea, in spite of our great commercial and political
interests, we shall not find a single acre of British freehold
territory. Even as far as Malta we can only claim that part of
the road is British, since, in time of peace, the important
mail traffic goes through France and Italy, from Calais to 1
Brindisi. In fact, for our complete traffic, in passengers,
mails, goods and ships, we might regard Aden as the first British
station on the road to India.

So, at the European end of the journey, owing to the modern
development of rapid transit, we are more and more dependent on
the kindly offices of foreign nations. Beyond Malta conditions
are different. Though we have no freehold possessions, the
waterway is free to all, and we have agreements and rights of
various kinds affecting its use and control. We must learn
something of these rights, since Malta and Aden lose half their
meaning for us unless we understand the nature of our interests
in the intervening links in the long chain of communication.

As we steam eastward from Malta, on our way to Port Said, we 2
may pass within sight of the island of Crete. Here we are
entering on the new region, as Crete has relations both with
Europe and with Asia, and the ultimate form of these relations
is still in doubt. Crete is a debatable ground between Turkey
and Greece, and Britain is concerned with three other European
Powers in determining its destiny. Further east, in the same
latitude as Crete, lies Cyprus, which we must now notice, since
its administration is in our hands, although it seems a long way
out of our direct course to the East.

The island lies far away from the Greek Archipelago, in the
angle formed by the coasts of Syria and Asia Minor, where the
Gulf of Antioch runs in between the Taurus mountains of Cilicia
and the northern continuation of the coast range of Lebanon. It
is a region rich in history. On either side of the Gulf are the
ancient sites of Tarsus and Antioch; inland is the commercial
city of Aleppo, and beyond it the headwaters of the great
river Euphrates. This small corner of the Mediterranean, now
comparatively neglected, was of great importance in the ancient
world; and some knowledge of its past may help us to appreciate
its position at the present day.

The origin of the first inhabitants of Cyprus is doubtful, but we
know that in historical times Phœnicians and Greeks were settled
here in large numbers. Kitium, near the modern Larnaca, was
Phœnician, while Salamis, near Famagusta, was one of the chief
centres of Greek influence. These and many other cities, little
kingdoms in themselves, were well known to ancient historians;
though the whole island is only about twice the size of
Lancashire. Cyprus in early times became famous for the worship
of the Phœnician goddess Astarte, the Aphrodite of the ancient
Greeks. Here we can still see the Phœnician rock tombs, and 3
here are fragments of the marble columns which once supported 4
a great temple of Zeus. Perhaps, too, these vast heaps of 5
slag, relics of the old workings for copper, which took its name
from the island, may be due in part to the people who are thought
to have reached even our own islands in their search for tin. But
for the most part, bombardments, earthquakes, destructive natives
and foreign searchers after antiquities have left few remnants
of the ancient civilization except such as are buried beneath
the earth. The real interest of Cyprus for us lies rather in its
political history in mediæval and modern times.

In the ancient world it came under control of one after another
of the great Powers ruling the mainland: Egypt, Phœnicia,
Assyria, Media; though the control was often nominal, being
limited to the levying of tribute, and the little native kingdoms
maintained a partial independence. Our own history has shown us
the value of a few miles of water as a protection from the great
military Powers of the neighbouring continent. As a trading
centre and naval base, on a coast where good ports were few,
Cyprus was of great value, and we are not surprised to find that
sea fights are frequent in its history. The Romans annexed it
from Egypt; at the division of the Empire it was attached to
Byzantium, and though it was twice conquered by the Arabs it was
twice recovered. Here we see it already a bone of contention
between East and West. For a few months in the year 1191 Cyprus
was even English territory. It was seized by Richard I. on his
way to the third Crusade, and in the little town of Limassol 6
which we see here, he was married to Berengaria of Navarre by no
less a personage than the Archbishop of York. So we may claim
that our connexion with Cyprus is at least seven centuries old.
Richard sold his new possession to Guy de Lusignan, a French
Crusader, and thus Cyprus like Malta came under the influence of
Feudalism and the Latin Church. Its external history, also, like
that of Malta, is made up for three centuries of fights and raids
of Christian against Mohammedan. Unlike Malta, it was fated in
the end to become part and parcel of the East. Towards the end of
the fourteenth century the Genoese seized Famagusta, which they
retained for many years; and a century later the abdication of
its last ruler, a Venetian by birth, gave the whole island to the
Republic of Venice. Venice and Genoa were both naval and trading
Powers; the island was a good base both for trade in the eastern
Mediterranean and for warlike operations against the Turk.

We can still see the lion of Venice and the old inscription 7
on the fortifications of the citadel of Famagusta, and here 8
too is a fragment of the ancient palace of the Lusignan dynasty,
which has escaped destruction by the Turk only to be converted
into a prosaic police station. Unlike the knights of Malta, the
Lusignans made little impression on the natives of the island.
They attempted to replace the national Greek Church by the
Latin; yet the old Latin cathedral of St. Sophia is now used as
a mosque, while, in spite of occasional persecution, the Greek
Church still survives as the Church of the majority of the 9
people. Here is the outside of St. Sophia: it is partly ruined,
but we can see that it was once a fine building. Inside, it 10
still looks like a church, except for the presence of Mohammedans
wearing turbans. Out in the country, near Nicosia, we come on a
fine old monastery, still in the possession of the Greek 11
Church. Notice the monks in their curious dress. Not far away
is a once-famous abbey, now somewhat decayed, as we may 12
judge from a near view of the cloisters; here again is an 13
ugly modern village church, and here by way of contrast a 14
famous _tekkye_, or Mohammedan shrine. Everywhere Turk and 15
Cypriote, Mohammedan and Christian, are side by side; and behind
all is British power enforcing law and order and compelling the
different parties to live at peace with one another.