Arnold Cassola: Lost Maltese Newspapers of the 19th century, Tumas Fenech Foundation for Education in Journalism, 2011.

Arnold Cassola has done students of early journalism in Malta and students of 19th century local theatre a service by publishing this short study of newspapers published between the removal of press censorship in 1839 and the end of the 19th century.

Basing himself on Bianca Fiorentini’s invaluable listing and study of newspapers published in Malta during the period of the Italian Risorgimento, in Echi del Risorgimento a Malta, second edition (Milan, 1982) he follows up her references solely to a number of newspapers in Maltese known to us mainly because other publications refer to them, commenting on the social milieu that produced them and occasionally on their value for the study of the Maltese language at the time.

The publications he lists are deemed lost only in the sense that not a single copy exists in libraries such as the National Library of Malta or the University library that are accessible to the public.

Some may actually exist in private libraries, and in fact, one of the papers to which he devotes good attention exists in a long and perhaps complete set in the library of the well-known collector and author Albert Ganado, who allowed Cassola to study it.

It is thus not unlikely that other titles discussed by him may also exist in other private collections.

The chief trouble is that most of the titles in question were very short-lived – a number of them came out in just one issue and immediately gave up the ghost.

In the first few decades following the granting of press freedom, young and not-so-young authors felt euphoric and launched new publications, whether in Italian or in Maltese, without the slightest know-ledge of journalistic writing, newspaper design, or marketing.

Moreover, as one newspaper, Il-Frosta – Giurnalett Satiricu, not one of the lost ones but pretty short-lived, said in its first issue, many new publications lasted less than one year (a fate Il-Frosta, January 25 – September 21, 1867, itself would suffer) and that the main reason was that they were characterised by writing that was insulting and were involved in bickering and violent controversy with others, most of the others, I should add, being rival newspapers.

It was not unusual for a newspaper to gloat over a rival’s disappearance, as when Il Folletto broke the news that Il Telegrafo Maltese had gone by printing a mock obituary complete with skull and crossbones, with comments including: “The life of mushrooms tends to be short.”

Some of the editors of these short-lived newspapers found themselves engaged in battles with the Bishop and with the police, such as those of La Trombetta, which survived for just three weeks.

Its young editors ended up going to prison for three days and paying a fine of three pounds.

La Trombetta had been guilty of libelling a visiting Italian drama company by calling its members “famished and in desperate straits”. This interest, however shockingly expressed, in theatre in Malta is typical of a number of other publications that did not last long, and also of the longer-lived Nafras u Colombu (November 1860 – possibly October 1862) edited and partly written by Carmelo Camilleri, comic actor and producer, and author of short farcical plays, who is an important figure in our 19th century theatre history.

Camilleri, however, incurred the enmity of a number of other newspapers such as Il Furetto, Il Hatar and, most deadly of all, Bertoldu, edited by the sharp-tongued priest Giuseppe Zammit, known as Brighella, who did not refrain for passing even personal insults about Camilleri, and sneers at the low class of people who watched him perform in the open air theatre then existing in the fosse below Kingsgate.

Nafras u Colombu featured regularly a review written in Italian of opera and drama, and there were also news items about performances by Camilleri or others like P.P. Castagna.

The Maltese Church had initially opposed the granting of press freedom because it feared the rise of an anti-Catholic press.

In point of fact, papers like the English-language The Harlequin turned out to have this aim, but also a few Maltese-language papers like Il Papa u l’Inglis (one issue published in 1861) or Is Serp tal-Bronz (one issue published in 1870). The anti-Catholic press did not stand much chance with a Church that was then very mighty, and a colonial government always most reluctant to antagonise it.

Some Gozitan authors had the ambitious vision characteristic of the people of their island when in 1843 they planned to publish Il Ghauci, in Italian and in Maltese, to be issued, amazingly, twice a day, the subscription price being £5 per quarter.

Cassola does not state if it was ever published, and I would not be surprised if it never was.

Gozitans also feature in an open letter published in the single Maltese-language issue (Christmas 1838) of The Harlequin which carries a curious letter signed ‘Il Ghaucin’ and written in the dialect of Għarb.

Cassola suspects, very rightly I think, this was a fabrication (meant to poke fun at the Gozitans?).

However, it includes a fascinating paragraph about an Englishwoman who is clearly Sarah Austin, the intellectual wife of the Royal Commissioner John Austin who is praised not just for being openly fond of Malta and the Maltese but also for being a person “li chienet thubb tisfen busta” [was very fond of dancing] and states that her departure from Malta was much lamented by Maltese people.

Cassola suggests it might have been written by George Percy Badger, the Arabist, who had lived in Malta a long time and had an excellent knowledge of Maltese.

This book is not for sale. Anyone interested in getting a copy should contact the Tumas Foundation for Education through Journalism on info@ftfeg.com.