The London summer had been one of those miserable successions of cold, wet days which only the English climate can conjure up. John Gadsby used to walk home every evening from his printing press in Bouverie Street and it was on one of these chilly, damp evenings that he got soaked to the skin. The next morning he woke up sneezing and coughing. His symptoms got worse until, after a particularly violent bout of coughing, he looked with horror at his bloodstained handkerchief.

After he was diagnosed with tuberculosis, he tried all the cures of the time. He finally turned to renowned physician Dr Henry S. Roots. Dr Roots visited Gadsby in September 1846. After concluding his examination, his parting words to Gadsby were: “I advise you to go to Malta.”

This succinct recommendation was to culminate in Gadsby undertaking a series of journeys to Malta and beyond. He later published a long and detailed account of these travels entitled My Wanderings, being Travels in the East in 1846-47, 1850-51, 1852-53.

This article is based on the stereotype edition of this work which was published in 1855 by Gadsby himself, since he was a publisher and printer.

Gadsby (1808-1893) was the son of William Gadsby, the famed hymn writer and pastor of the Strict Baptist Church. In 1835, together with his son John, he launched a magazine which he called the Gospel Standard. In 1857, John, by now an established publisher and sufficiently recovered from his medical problems thanks to his Mediterranean sojourns, originated another magazine, The Friendly Companion, which was aimed at the younger generation. Both magazines are still in circulation today. Gadsby’s account of his travels first appeared in the early issues of The Friendly Companion.

Gadsby first arrived in Malta on November 10, 1846, after an overland journey to Marseilles and an 11-day voyage on the steamer Volcano. Like most first-time visitors to the island, he was impressed by the entrance into Grand Harbour, which he described as imposing and truly sublime. One of the illustrations in his book is a print showing a view of the Grand Harbour from the Upper Barrakka with the Saluting Battery in the foreground.

After some negative experiences involving mosquitoes and other pests, Gadsby soon formed a favourable impression of Malta: “Malta is certainly one of the most picturesque places I have ever seen. Look which way you will from Valletta, the island seems covered with little towns, all built of stone, and each having its towers and churches, on elevated spots, standing out in bold relief.”

He was enchanted by Valletta and the moats around it, which had been turned into gardens and were overlooked by hundreds of cannon. “As you pass over the drawbridges,” he wrote, “you are regaled with the perfume of orange bloom; for orange trees always have blossom and ripe oranges on them at the same time.”

He comments favourably on the well-paved straight streets of Valletta: “Cleaner far more than those of any town I have seen outside England.”

In the first days of his Malta visit Gadsby wrote that he “often amused [himself] in the office of the Malta Times”. He helped and instructed the compositors, read proofs and also wrote articles for the editor. One article he wrote featured “the beggars with which the streets swarm”. The day after it was published he noticed that the police were taking action and had cleared the streets of Valletta of these vagrants, some of which he describes as “exceedingly rude and annoying, and will often throw vermin upon your clothes if you will not give them anything”. This beggar-free state of affairs, however, only lasted a few days as neither the Governor nor the police could keep the beggars at bay.

One place Gadsby singled out for comment was the Floriana church of the Capuchin Friars, “a religious order who are compelled to get their living by begging”. His attention was first drawn to this place when he saw several women coming out of the convent. On asking his guide how that could be, the reply he got was “Oh de Bissop (sic) does not know”, followed by the rather cryptic “I pay the priest and he do all for me”.

He comments favourably on the well-paved streets of Valletta: ‘Cleaner far more than those of any town I have seen outside England’

Gadsby descended into the vault where he saw the mummified bodies of dead friars in a standing position against the wall, much as they are to the present day. After remarking on the good state of preservation, such that the features, though shrunken, were still clearly recognisable, he goes on to describe the modus operandi adopted by the friars to achieve these results: when a friar passes away the body is disemboweled and laid on a grating in a strong case made for the purpose. This case is hermetically sealed to exclude the air. Here the body remains for a year, during which time the fluids evaporate, and the body becomes perfectly hard and dry, when it is ready for exhibition. “The friar who accompanied us exulted in the thought that he should one day be exhibited in a similar way.”

At this point, Gadsby’s Protestant disdain of the Roman Catholic religion is revealed. He notes that the Capuchin church is lined with paintings, one of which depicts a boy on his knees and an inquisitor standing over him with a rod, because he cannot repeat the Apostle’s Creed. He flippantly remarks that: “It struck me as being rather a sharp, Roman-tic way of teaching youth religion.”

Later he describes the Maltese as “the most ignorant and superstitious of all Roman Catholics, not even excepting, perhaps, the Mexicans”. No theatrical performances he went to in his youth, he writes, could approach the show put on by the priests of Malta in their form of worship, the Mass, which he describes as follows: “Bowing and scraping, taking off caps and putting them on again, kneeling and rising, pacing to and fro in front of the altar, turning round, changing places, raising and lowering of hands, waving of incense vials, tingling of bells, bawling and responding, the priests being at the same time dressed like play actors.”

He notes that in every street one encounters images of saints with lamps or lanterns burning before them, and the same in every house. They are even found in houses of ill-repute, which have their “patron saints, with lamps constantly burning and to whom the wretched inmates pray to avert the judgment of heaven”! It is not clear whether this referred to the hostesses or their clients, or both.

Gadsby’s detailed descriptions of religious practices, almost always imbued with an undertone of contempt, are interesting and worthy of note. Writing about the various processions which he witnessed, he states that few people (obviously referring to fellow Protestants) “can have any idea of the ridiculousness of these processions or of the schemes resorted to by the priests to extort money”.

The priest proceeding to deliver extreme unction marches under a canopy held up by four men and is preceded by boys holding lanterns. As he passes, people in the street fall on their knees and even those at a distance remove their hats and bow. He sarcastically dismisses the sacrament of extreme unction by comparing it to “the poor Hindoos carrying their departing relatives to the river Ganges, believing that a sight of the river immediately before the spirit departs ensures entrance into the heavenly world”, or to the “Mahometans turning the faces of their dying friends towards Mecca, that they may die in peace”.

In churches he often noticed an image of the Virgin Mary in a glass cage surrounded by dangling gold objects such as rings and watches. On enquiring as to the meaning of this he was told by his guide that people who are ill pray to the Virgin and promise her a ring or something similar, and when the illness is cured, payment is made. Gadsby writes that he could hardly resist laughing outright at this explanation “but recollecting I was in a Popish place, I restrained myself”.

Another practice which aroused Gadsby’s Protestant indignation was that concerning indulgences. He notes that at various church doors a board was suspended with the words Plenaria Indulgenza, which he translates rather mischievously as “indulgences sold for those who wish to enjoy themselves”. This, he continues, gives one “the liberty to sin or pardon for those who sin without liberty”.

As an example he recounts how a drunk servant told him he could get an indulgence to drink or to eat meat on Friday for four tari (about 6¾d) and yet, remarks Gadsby, “to eat meat on Friday without paying this 6¾d is one of the mortal sins of the Romish Church”.

Gadsby’s puritanical views on the observance of Sunday as a holy day is exemplified by the following anecdote. On Easter Sunday, 1853, he got into a conversation with a priest and a young man in the course of which he was told by the priest that he was scandalised at a prominent protestant who had given a ball on Good Friday.

“What do you think of that, Mr Gadsby?” came the admonition which Gadsby rather contemptuously brushed aside since Good Friday was a moveable feast. On being invited to join his two companions and the landlord (who he says was an English Jesuit) in a game of cards, he refused, saying that he never played cards, let alone on a Sunday.

“To quarrel with a man for giving a ball on Good Friday while you can play at cards on a Sunday seems to me to be straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel,” he told the Jesuit landlord, adding: “And yet this very man, this Sunday card-player, this ball-goer, this playhouse supporter, an Englishman withal, did not believe it possible for a Protestant, dying a Protestant, to get to heaven.”

In spite of his strict religious convictions, Gadsby could not suppress his admiration for the Christmas celebrations held at the church of St Paul’s in Valletta, which bears quoting in full:

He states that ‘few people have any idea of the ridiculousness of these processions or of the schemes resorted to by priests to extort money’

“Not only was the whole church covered with crimson moreen, hanging in festoons, with tassels, &c., but everything else that could be thought of to cause glare and glitter was brought to bear. Immense chandeliers; scores of silver (or plated) urns, screens, taper stands of immense size, lamps, and candlesticks; vases filled with flowers; sheets of silver in front of the altars; silk tapestry and net work; a large gloria, richly gilt, with crown and cross above it; representations of fountains in the midst of gardens; carvings beautifully painted; paintings of the Virgin Mary, &c., in silver-plated frames;… but why should I go on’!

“One chandelier, a monster one, had no less than 24 wax tapers, each at least two feet in length; another had 12 tapers, others 10, and so forth. Altogether there were 230 tapers, besides lamps. The light from these, reflected from the polished silver ornaments, was most dazzling.”

But he was not impressed with the Passion Week functions in 1851. On the Wednesday there was a service in all churches. Bells were muffled and organs silenced. There were 15 tapers that were extinguished by a “man with a long stick having an extinguisher on top”. When all the tapers were out, the friars and congregation began to rattle the benches with stones until, he adds “my nerves rattled too”. On inquiring, he learnt that each taper represented a prayer for the 12 apostles and the three women who were at the sepulchre; as each prayer was over a light was extinguished. He was also told the noise made with the stones represented Judas’s bones breaking.

In St Paul’s church, Gadsby observed six priests receiving the confession of women while the service was going on. Men, he learnt, can be confessed either in their own house or that of the priest; previously this was also the practice for female penitents, but was discontinued because “such conduct of the priests was constantly coming to light that no woman was safe”.

Gadsby also visited a representation of the Last Supper at the Dominican chapel. When he entered the crowded room he found the table spread, with 12 portions, each consisting of “bread, wheat, paste, peas, beans, maccaroni…. and oranges”. Twelve men then entered dressed in white smocks and at the word of a priest, each man put his portion in a bag and took it home. “And this was the Last Supper,” was Gadsby’s sarcastic comment.

Gadsby was also a cynical observer of the service on Maundy Thursday at the cathedral. Following the procession, which included a man dressed as a clown carrying a mushroom-shaped pink umbrella, the bishop, who was “most gorgeously dressed”, washed the feet of the first of 12 men in white robes, after which red-robed priests washed the feet of the remaining eleven. “And this,” remarks Gadsby, “is called washing the disciples feet and wiping them with the towel!”

“To me,” he continues, “it appeared an awful mockery and one of the most arrogant displays of pride I have ever seen. The place was crowded and the smell of garlic insufferable.”

The Good Friday procession he described as consisting of men with white or brown calico bags covering head and shoulders and carrying wooden figures “which looked perfectly hideous”. The Saviour’s body was represented on an elegant bed, under a rich satin canopy with gold and silver decorations. Flags and banners were waving all along the procession. All this was intended to work on the people’s feelings to induce them “to empty their pockets when called upon”.

Towards the end of the procession was one of the sweetest little girls Gatsby had ever seen, richly dressed, with a pair of wings on her shoulders. On inquiry, Gadsby learned that she represented the angel Gabriel.

The Easter Vigil celebrations were afforded the same degree of sarcasm. On entering he found all the windows darkened, the priests mumbling in a low voice and a choir singing almost inaudibly. “On a sudden, the blinds were thrown back, the bells rang furiously the trumpets and organ struck up, and the choir sang their loudest. And this was to represent the Resurrection of the Saviour!”

Our scornful visitor also refers to the Feast of St Gregory. “This is a feast in honour of St Gregorius,” he writes, “or as we in England should call it, a fair, held in a town called Żeitun, about three miles from Valletta.” He goes on to recount that when Maltese men marry they are bound to take their wives to this feast every year and buy them some sweets “made up of hempseed for that’s the kind which the bride likes best”. An early instance of the use of cannabis? The stalls seemed to contain enough sweets for all the inhabitants of Valletta.

There was also a procession consisting of priests, friars and penitents. The latter were covered in white from head to toe, only their eyes being visible, similar to one of the illustration in Gadsby’s book which represents a man “begging for the souls of malefactors”. Formerly these penitents had to walk in chains but the practice was discontinued.

Such then was Gadsby’s jaundiced opinion of Maltese Catholicism in the middle of the 19th century. Conditioned by his extreme Strict Baptist puritanism, he leaves no stone unturned to mock this religion at every opportunity. In a footnote towards the end of the chapter on Malta, he encapsulates his view of the Catholic Religion in a comment which bears reproducing in full:

“I remember once voting for a Romanist as a member of parliament. May the sin not be laid to my charge! So much have my eyes been opened during my travels to see their abominations and their persecuting spirit… that I earnestly pray that England may ever be kept out of their fangs; for their persecutions have ever been more bitter than death.

“And I would affectionately caution all my friends not to suffer their liberal feelings to carry them too far. I would allow the Romanists in Great Britain every privilege and award to them every protection, but would give them no power over either my body or my soul.”

Acknowledgement

I am grateful to Gerald Buss and Benjamin Ramsbottom for helping me trace the portrait of John Gadsby, and to John Kingham who gave me permission to reproduce it.