Malta and Britain came together in a ‘shotgun’ or ‘cannon fire’ marriage. In 1798, Napoleon, on his way to invade Egypt, called at Malta, evicted the Order of St John, introduced revolutionary reforms, and installed a garrison, before sailing to Egypt in the Orient, the massive 123-gun flagship of the French Mediterranean fleet. The fleet anchored at Aboukir Bay, east of Alexandria. Nelson, commanding 11 Royal Navy warships, attacked at sunset of August 1, 1798, and with the advantage of being able to attack vessels at anchor, destroyed the larger French Mediterranean fleet, but took hundreds of casualties.
News of the French defeat reached Malta on August 24, 1798. A few days later, on September 2, as the French were plundering a Rabat church, the Maltese rose up and quickly confined the French to the fortified harbour towns. Soon it became apparent that the French could not be dislodged. Nelson was asked to blockade the harbour. It took two years to starve the French out.
The village leaders, who had led the revolt against the French, wanted British forces to remain as insurance against a Napoleonic return. The British appointed a civil commissioner, instructed to respect Maltese culture and the role of the Church. The civil commissioner, Charles Cameron, issued a proclamation stating that Malta was a protectorate of Britain.
The first hitch in Malta-Britain relations came in 1801, when London negotiated the preliminary ‘Peace of Amiens’ treaty with France. For Malta, the terms were awful: Malta was to be neutral, the bankrupt Knights of St John were to return as rulers, and France, as a guarantor of neutrality, would have an excuse to station troops on the island. No one in Malta, islander or Brit, liked the terms. All protested.
Maltese leaders had already published, in 1802, a ‘Declaration of Rights’, making it clear they expected to be part of the island’s administration, under the protection of His Britannic Majesty. Hostilities with France restarted in 1803. Amiens was redundant.
In 1812, a commission, sent from London, recommended that Malta be administered by a British governor and commander-in-chief. The governor might be aided by an advisory council. The first governor, Sir Thomas Maitland (1813-1824), dismissed the idea autocratically, stating that if a council was insisted upon, Britain could find someone else to be governor.
As Maitland arrived, plague was already ending Malta’s Napoleonic trade boom, beginning two decades of economic hardship and poverty for many. It was not until France took over Algeria (in 1830) that Malta’s strategic importance revived, and with it, military spending and employment.
The early 1830s saw constitutional action in Britain, with the Great Reform Act of 1832. In Malta, too, reformers stirred. Camillo Sciberras organised a Comitato Generale Maltese and pressed for a Malta National Assembly. Sciberras carried political baggage. He had welcomed the French enthusiastically and served in their Malta administration, and although a member of a well-respected aristocratic family, had supported the Napoleonic suppression of Malta’s nobility. When the French were forced to leave, he found it wise to go with them and remain in exile for several years.
A more practical reformer was George Mitrovich (1794-1885), born in Senglea. At his own expense, Mitrovich went to London where he found the Liverpool MP, William Ewart, supportive of Malta’s cause for press freedom and more representation in the island’s government. Mitrovich learnt that London was not going to create a Malta National Assembly but a commission on island affairs would be formed. He received no thanks for passing this information to Camillo Sciberras, who kept insisting upon an assembly.
When the commission arrived in Malta on October 20, 1836, the members were George Cornewall Lewis, a future British cabinet member; John Austin, a respected legal scholar and an authority on Roman law; and, unofficially but influentially, Sarah Austin, wife of John, an authority on education. As shown in a contemporary print, a crowd welcomed the commission and built up expectations. Sarah Austin observed that when the islanders realised that the commissioners did not bake cheap bread, enthusiasm would fade.
Sarah Austin observed that when the islanders realised that the commissioners did not bake cheap bread, enthusiasm would fade
A month after the commission’s arrival, a new governor, General Sir Henry Frederick Bouverie (1836-1843) arrived, replacing General Sir Frederick Ponsonby (1827-1836), who had advocated for more Maltese involvement in the island’s administration. Bouverie supported, and implemented, many of the commission’s recommendations.
The commission did valuable work, recommending freedom of the press, resulting in the establishment of newspapers and magazines, and the appointment of more Maltese in senior civil service positions. Due to Sarah Austin’s influence, and Bouverie’s support, 10 state elementary schools were established, where none existed before. Bouverie created more elementary schools after the commission left. Malta was establishing state elementary schools before Britain.
Promoting Maltese to senior positions involved removing some appointees from Britain, the most prominent being the autocratic Sir Frederick Hankey, a vigorous supporter of censorship. Hankey had control of the government printing press, one of the few presses on the island. Non-official material only got printed with Hankey’s approval. Furthermore, he had a ‘natural’ son who he placed in the civil service. The commission recommended, successfully, retirement, for Hankey.
Chief Justice Sir John Stoddart was difficult to work with. His position was eliminated. A new position, president of the court of appeal, was created and filled by Sir Ignatius Bonavita. The attorney general, Robert Langlow, who contrived to make obscure legal objections to policy initiatives, got the same treatment. The post of attorney general went on to be replaced by a crown advocate, Sir Vincent Casolano.
There was fallout with press freedom. A newly published magazine, the Harlequin, ran an article vilifying the Catholic Church, resulting in a fine and then, for non-payment, prison. There was indignation in some Protestant quarters. Governor Bouverie insisted on upholding the libel laws, otherwise they were dead. He also reminded everyone that since 1800, Britain had always protected the position of the Catholic Church in Malta. The fine was paid, and the Harlequin editor released.
There was criticism of the commission’s work in Malta and in Britain. In London, the commission report was debated in parliament (Hansard, May 3, 1838). Infamously, the Duke of Wellington delivered a military view of Malta: “It is fortress and a seaport – it is a great naval and military arsenal for our shipping and forces in the Mediterranean… we might as well think of planting a free press on the fore deck of the admiral’s flag ship in the Mediterranean.”
From a much different perspective, Sciberras denounced the commission for failing to recommend a national assembly. Former chief justice Sir John Stoddart, via gossip and innuendo, was a constant critic. In 1849, Malta gained a Council of Government with both elected and official members, under the leadership of Governor Richard More O’Ferrall (1847-1851).
Malta’s first modern election, with a limited franchise, was held in 1849. Both Mitrovich and Sciberras were candidates. Neither was elected to the new Council of Government. In fairness, most of the newly elected members were priests.
In the second half of the 19th century, the Council of Government was enlarged and given increased powers over Malta’s budget. The power was not used efficiently and the largely elected council was disbanded to be replaced by an appointed body.
After World War 1, in 1921, full internal self-government was instated, lasting until the vehement political squabbles in the early 1930s. Full internal government arrived in 1947.
Brian Blouet is the author of the ninth edition of The Story of Malta, 2022.