I confess I am quite unsure how to define calamities. Is any accident, any misfortune, any tragedy, any disaster a calamity?
I ask the reader to bear with me, to allow me a rather wide ‘margin of appreciation’ (legalese we footmen of the law employ when we try to get away with arbitrary discretion). My rule of thumb definition would be that when an unexpected mishap affects even one person dramatically, that qualifies as a calamity.
History has not spared Malta its fair share of disasters – wars, violence, earthquakes, indigence, floodings, pestilences, famines, hurricanes. The present features have to rely on what photographic memory has left recorded – anything pre-1839 is automatically excluded. Also disregarded are the catastrophic effects of World War II – as I may dedicate a future spread exclusively to those events – the appalling extent of which devastation could easily run into multiple instalments.
The very first disaster I am recording is the burning down, on May 25, 1873, of the newly built Royal Opera House in Valletta
I have picked and chosen images of Maltese calamities on land, in the air and on the seas, only excluding ‘traffic’ mishaps – the railways, the tram, ferries, public busses and private transport.
The very first disaster I am recording is the burning down, on May 25, 1873, of the newly built Royal Opera House in Valletta, rightly the pride and showpiece of the colonial administration. Lovingly rebuilt and reopened in 1877, its dire destiny was taken care of by the Luftwaffe on April 7, 1942. Talk of being born under a lucky star.
This is not meant as an organic overview of disasters in Malta. It aims to be an eminently subjective sampler of big or minor accidents that hit the news pre-World War II and of which photographs survive mostly, though not all, through antique postcards.
No doubt, others would have opted for different selections.