Italy — The Earth and its inhabitants by Elisée Reclus

Italy*

I — General Aspects

The limits of the Italian peninsula have been most distinctly traced by nature. The Alps, which bound it in the north, from the promontories of Liguria to the mountainous peninsula of Istria, present themselves like a huge wall, the only breaches in which are formed by passes situated high up in the zones of pines, pastures, or eternal snows. Italy, like its two sister peninsulas of Southern Europe, thus constitutes a world of its own, destined by nature to become the theatre of a special evolution of humanity. Its delightful climate, beauteous skies, and fertile fields distinguish it in a marked manner from the countries lying beyond the Alps; and an inhabitant of the latter who descends the sunny southern slope of this dividing range cannot fail to perceive that everything around him has changed, and that he has entered a “new world.”

The protecting barrier of the Alps and the sea which bounds it have imparted to Italy a distinct individuality. All its countries, from the plains of Lombardy to the shores of Sicily, resemble each other in certain respects. There is a sort of family likeness about them; but still what delightful contrasts, what picturesque variety, do we not meet with! Most of these contrasts are due to the Apennines, which branch off from the southern extremity of the French Alps. At first they run close to the seashore, like a huge wall supported at intervals by powerful buttresses; subsequently they traverse the whole of the peninsula. At times they are reduced to a narrow ridge, at others they spread out into vast masses, rising in plateaux or ramifying into chains and promontories. River valleys and plains intersect them in all directions; lakes and filled-up lake basins are spread out at the foot of their cliffs; and numerous volcanoes, rising above the general level, contrast, by their regular form, with the rugged declivities of the Apennines. The sea, following these sinuosities in the relief of the ground, forms a series of bays, arranged with a certain degree of symmetry. In the north these bays do not much encroach upon the land, but in the south they penetrate deeply, and almost form veritable gulfs. There once existed an Italy of granitic rocks, but it exists no longer, for the rocks of the Apennines and of the plains teach us that the Italy of the present is of recent origin, and that the many islands of which it consisted formerly were united into a single peninsula as recently as the Eocene epoch.

Italy, compared with Greece, exhibits much sobriety in its configuration. Its mountains are arranged in more regular ridges, its coasts are less indented, its small archipelagos bear no comparison with the Cyclades, and its three great dependent islands, Sicily, Sardinia, and Corsica, are regular in their contours. Indeed, its contours mark its intermediate position between joyous Greece and severe Iberia. Thus there exists a correspondence between geographical position and contours.

Italy, as a whole, contrasts in a remarkable manner with the Balkan peninsula. The former faces the Ægean, and looks towards the east, whilst in the truly peninsular portion of Italy, to the south of the plains of Lombardy, the westerly slopes offer most life. Secure harbours are most numerous on the shores of the Tyrrhenian, and the largest and most fertile plains slope down towards that sea. It results from this that the western slopes of the Apennines have given birth to the most enterprising and intelligent populations, who have taken the lead in the political history of their country. The west represents the light, whilst the east, bounded as it is by the Adriatic, an inland sea almost, a simple gulf, represents the night. True, the plains of Apulia, though on the east, are wealthier and more populous than the mountain regions of Calabria, but the vicinity of Sicily, nevertheless, even there insures the preponderance of the western littoral. Whilst Greece was in the height of her glory, whilst every initiative went forth from Athens, the cities of Asia Minor, and the islands of the Ægean, those republics which looked towards the east, such as Tarentum, Locri, Sybaris, Syracuse, and Catania, enjoyed a pre-eminence over the cities on the western littoral. The physical configuration of Italy thus facilitated the march of civilisation from the south-east to the north-west, from Ionia to Gaul. The Gulf of Taranto and the eastern coasts of Greater Greece and Sicily were freely exposed to Hellenic influences, whilst further north the peninsula faces about to the west as it were. There can be no doubt that these features greatly facilitated the expansion of ideas in the direction of Western Europe, and that if it had been otherwise civilisation would have taken another direction.

For nearly two thousand years, from the fall of Carthage to the discovery of America, Italy remained the centre of the civilised world. It maintained its hegemony either by conquest and organization, as in the case of the “Eternal City,” or by the power of its genius, the relative liberty of its institutions, its sciences, arts, and commerce, as in the times of Florence, Genoa, and Venice. Two of the greatest events in history, the political unification of the Mediterranean world under the laws of Rome, and at a later epoch the regeneration of the human mind, so appropriately termed “Renaissance,” originated in Italy. It behoves us, therefore, to inquire into the geographical conditions which may account for this preponderance during these two ages in the life of mankind.

Mommsen and others have pointed out the favourable position of Rome as an emporium. From the very first that city became the commercial centre of the neighbouring populations. Built in the centre of a circus of hills, and on the banks of a navigable river, not far from the sea, it likewise possessed the advantage of lying on the frontiers of three nations—Latins, Sabines, and Etruscans. When Rome had conquered the neighbouring territories it undoubtedly rose into importance as a place of commerce. This local traffic, however, would never have converted Rome into a great city. Its position is not to be compared with that of places like Alexandria, Constantinople, or Bombay, upon which the world’s commerce converges as a matter of course. On the contrary, its situation hardly favours commerce. The Apennines, which environ the territory of Rome in a huge semicircle, constituted a formidable obstacle until quite recently, and were avoided by merchants; the sea near Rome is treacherous, and even the small galleys of the ancients could not enter the inefficient harbour at Ostia without risk.

The power of Rome, therefore, depended but in a small measure upon commercial advantages resulting from geographical position. It is its central position to which that city is mainly indebted for its greatness, and which enabled it to weld the whole of the ancient world into a political whole. Three concentric circles drawn around the city correspond with as many phases in its development. During their first struggles for existence the Romans enjoyed the advantage of occupying a basin of limited extent, shielded on all sides by mountains. When Rome had exterminated the inhabitants of these mountains the remainder of Italy naturally gravitated towards her. The plains of Cis-and Transpadana in the north presented no obstacles, whilst the resistance of the uncivilised tribes of the mountain regions of the south was soon broken, for they found no support amongst the Greek colonies scattered along an extensive coast. Nor were the populations of Sicily, Sardinia, and Corsica sufficiently united to offer an effective resistance to the organized forces of the Romans, who were thus able to extend their power over all the countries comprehended within the second concentric circle referred to.

It happened that the plains of Northern Italy and Sicily were both rich granaries, which enabled the Romans to push forward their conquests. The whole world of the Mediterranean gravitated towards Rome and Italy: Illyria, Greece, and Egypt in the east, Libya and Mauritania in the south, Iberia in the west, Gaul in the north-west, and the transalpine countries in the north.

Rome maintained her power and influence as long as the Mediterranean constituted the world; but, in proportion as the borders of the known world were enlarged, so did Rome lose the advantages which a central position had conferred upon her. Even during the latter days of the Roman empire Milan and Ravenna usurped the position once held by Rome, and the latter became the capital of the Ostrogothic kingdom, and subsequently the seat of the Byzantine exarchs. Rome, the city of the Cæsars, had fallen for evermore! True, the emperors were succeeded by the popes, but the real masters of the “Holy Roman Empire” resided beyond the Alps, and only came to Italy to have their power consecrated. Even in Italy itself Rome ceased to be the leading town, its place being taken by Pavia, Florence, Genoa, Milan, Venice, Bologna, and even Turin.

The unity of Italy has been realised in the course of this century, and, excepting a few Alpine valleys, its political boundaries coincide with its natural ones. It may surprise us that this unity should not have been established long ago, but the geographical configuration of Italy readily lends itself to the establishment of small states. Its islands, its mountain-bound plains, and coast districts, shut off from the interior of the country by abrupt mountains, formed as many centres where populations of diverse origin were able to lead a life independently of their neighbours. Now and then the whole of Italy acknowledged a single master, but it only did so on compulsion. That spirit of nationality which has given birth to a united Italy only animated very few citizens of the mediæval republics. They might unite to resist a common danger, but no sooner was it past than they went their separate ways, or, still worse, fought amongst themselves about some trifle.

Cola di Rienzi, the tribune of Rome, appealed to the cities of Italy in the middle of the fourteenth century; he adjured them to “throw off the yoke of the tyrant, and to form a holy national brotherhood, whose object should be the liberation of Rome and the whole of Italy.” His messengers, carrying a silver wand, went to every city with greetings of amity, and asked that deputies should be sent to the future parliament of the Eternal City. Rienzi, full of the memories of the past, declared that Rome had not ceased to be the “mistress of the world,” and had a natural right to govern all nations. It was his aim to resuscitate the past, not to evoke a new life, and his work disappeared like a dream. Florence and Venice, the most active cities of that period, looked upon him as a visionary. “Siamo Veneziani, poi Cristiani,” said the proud citizens of Venice in the fifteenth century. They, whose sons fought so valiantly for Italian independence, never thought of calling themselves Italians. At the same time we must bear in mind that the impulse which has made Italy one did not originate with the masses, for there are still millions of Sicilians, Sardinians, Calabrians, and even Lombards who do not appreciate the vast changes which have taken place.

If Italy no longer remains a “geographical expression,” it is owing in a large measure to frequent foreign invasions. Spaniards, French, and Germans in turn have seized the fertile plains of Italy, and their hard oppression has taught the Italians to look upon each other as brothers. The Alps might be supposed to offer an effective protection against such invasions, but they do not. They are steepest on the Italian side, whilst their exterior slopes, towards France, Switzerland, and German Austria, are comparatively gentle. Invaders, tempted by the delightful climate and the wealth of Italy, were able to reach easily the Alpine passes, whence they rushed down upon the plains; and thus the “barrier of the Alps” is a barrier only to the Italians, and has always been respected by them, excepting during the Roman empire. Nor is there any reason why they should cross it, for there is no country beyond equal to their own. French, Swiss, and Germans, on the other hand, have always looked upon Italy as a sort of paradise. It was the country of their dreams; they yielded frequently to their desire to possess it, and dyed its coveted plains with blood.

Italy, exposed as it is to attacks from beyond, and no longer situated in the centre of the known world, has definitively lost its primato, or foremost place amongst nations, which some of its sons, carried away by an exclusive patriotism, would restore to it. But though no longer the most powerful nation, and eclipsed in industry, commerce, and even literature and science, it still remains unrivalled in its treasures of art. There is no other country in the world which can boast of an equal number of cities remarkable on account of their buildings, statues, paintings, and decorations of every kind. There are provinces where every village, every group of houses even, delights the eye either by a fresco painting or a work of the sculptor’s chisel, a bold staircase or picturesque balcony. The instinct for art has passed into the blood of the people, and we need not wonder if an Italian peasant builds his house and plants his trees so as to bring them into harmony with the surrounding landscape. This constitutes the greatest charm of Italy; everywhere art goes hand in hand with nature. How many artists are there not in Lombardy, Venetia, or Tuscany who would have become famous in any other country, but whose names will never be remembered, in consequence of their overwhelming numbers, or because their lot was cast in some remote village!

Italy owes the rank it has held for more than two thousand years not merely to its monuments and works of art, which attract students from the extremities of the earth, but also to its historical associations. In a country which has been inhabited for centuries by a civilised people there cannot be a town the origin of which is not lost in the darkness of tradition. The modern cities have replaced the Roman towns, and these latter rose upon the ruins of some Greek, Etruscan, or Gallic settlement. Every fortress, every country house, marks the site of some ancient citadel, or of the villa of a Roman patrician; churches have replaced the ancient temples, and though the religious rites have changed, the altars of gods and saints arise anew in the spots consecrated of old. An examination of these relics of all ages is full of interest, and only the most obtuse can resist the influence of the historical reminiscences which surround him.

Italy, after a long period of decay and foreign domination, has again taken its place amongst the foremost modern nations. The aspect of the peninsula has undergone many changes since it received the name of Vitalia, or Italia, from the herds of cattle which roamed over it. Its well-cultivated plains, carefully tended gardens, and busy cities entitle it now to some other appellation. The passes of the Alps and its central position give Italy the command of all the routes which converge from France, Germany, and Austria upon the Gulfs of Genoa and Venice. Its quarries, sulphur and iron mines, its wines and agricultural produce of every description, and its industry afford ever-growing resources. Its men of learning and inventors may fairly claim to be on a level with those of other countries. The population increases rapidly. It is not only more dense than in France, but also sends a considerable contingent of emigrants to the solitudes of Southern America.60

II — The Basin of the Po. Piemont, Lombardy, Venetia, and Emilia*

The valley of the Po is frequently spoken of as Upper Italy, because it occupies the northern portion of the peninsula, but might more appropriately be termed the Italian Netherlands, for its elevation is less than that of any other group of provinces. It is a river valley now, but during the Pliocene epoch it still formed a gulf of the sea. This gulf was gradually filled up by the alluvium brought down by the rivers, and upheaved by subterranean forces above the surface of the waters, the erosive action of the mountain torrents continuing all the while; and thus, in the course of ages, the basin of the Po assumed its gentle and regular slope towards the sea. As long as the waters of the Adriatic penetrated the valleys between Monte Rosa and Monte Viso, Italy was attached to the Alps of continental Europe only by a narrow neck of land formed by the Ligurian Apennines.

No other region of Europe can rival the valley of the Po as regards the magnificence of its distant prospects. The Apennines in the south raise their heads above the region of forests, their rocks, woods, and pasturages contrasting with the uniform plain spread out along their foot; whilst the snow-clad Alps rise in all their sublimity from the Col di Tenda in the west to the passes of Istria in the east. The isolated pyramid of Monte Viso (thus called from the beautiful prospect which may be obtained from its summit) looks down upon the fields of Saluzzo, and the small lakes in its pasturing region feed a roaring rivulet which subsequently assumes the name of Po. Enormous buttresses to the north-west of Turin support the ice-clad Grand Paradis, near which peeps out the Grivola, perhaps the most charming, the most gracefully chiselled of all Alpine peaks. Right in the bend of the Alpine chain rises the dome of Mont Blanc, like an island above a sea of mountains. Monte Rosa, crowned with a seven-pointed diadem, pushes its spurs far into Italy. Then come the Splügen, the Ortler, the Adamello, the Marmolade, and many another summit distinguished for some special beauty. When from the top of the dome of Milan we behold spread out around us this magnificent amphitheatre of mountains rising above the verdant plain, we may well rejoice that we should have lived to contemplate so grand a scene.

Geographically the Alps belong to the countries which surround Italy. From the south we seize at a glance the entire slope of the mountains, from the vineyards and plantations of mulberry-trees to the forests of beech and larch, the pastures, the naked rocks, and the dazzling fields of ice. But the cultivator only ventured into this difficult region when forced by poverty. The features of the northern slope are quite different. There the land rises gradually, and the valleys are less fertile, but the inhabitants can easily reach the heads of the passes, whence they look down upon the inviting plains of Italy. It is this structure of the Alps which explains the preponderance of the Germanic and Gallic elements throughout their extent, and whilst Italian is spoken only in a few isolated localities beyond this mountain barrier, the French and German elements are largely represented on their inner slopes.

Italy can only claim a few Alpine mountain masses within the basin of the Po, the Adige, and the rivers of Venetia. The most important of these, alike on account of its height, its glaciers, and springs, is the Grand Paradis, which rears its head to the south of the Dora Baltea, between the masses of Mont Blanc and the plains of Piemont. An Englishman, Mr. Mathews, may claim to be the first discoverer of this mountain giant, which even on the Sardinian staff map, published only recently, is confounded with Mont Iseran, a far less noble summit twenty-five miles to the west of it.

None of the other Alpine summits on Italian territory can compare in height with the Grand Paradis, for though the Italian language extends in numerous instances to the central chain of the Alps, the political boundaries of Italy do not. Switzerland holds possession of the valley of the Upper Ticino, whilst Austria still possesses the Upper Adige. The only rivers rising on the southern slope of the Alps, and belonging in their entirety, or nearly so, to Italy, are the Tagliamento and the Piave. In consequence of this violation of the natural frontiers there are many snow-clad Alpine summits which, though geographically belonging to Italy, are situated on the frontiers of the present kingdom, or even within Swiss or Austrian territory. Amongst these are the giant summits of the Ortler, the Marmolade, and the precipitous Cimon della Pala. The Monte della Disgrazia, however, to the south of the Bernina, is an Italian mountain; such is also, for the greater part, the mountain mass of the Camonica, bounded on the north by the Pass of Tonale, which plays so prominent a part in legendary history, and is commanded by the Adamo, or Adamello, whose glacier streams creep down to the Upper Adige. Farther to the east, in the valley of the Piave, the obelisk surmounting the huge pyramid of the Antelao pierces the line of perennial snow, and there are other peaks scarcely inferior to it in height.

Most of the Alpine groups lying within Italy and between the main chain and the plains do not exceed the Apennines in height, and only a few amongst them are covered with perennial snow. But the prospects which may be enjoyed from them are all the more charming for this reason, for we find ourselves between two zones, with cultivated valleys, towns, and villages at our feet, and a panorama of bare and snowy summits bounding the view to the north. Several of these mountains deservedly attract large numbers of tourists. Favourites amongst them are the hills rising above the blue lakes of Lombardy, such as the Motterone on Lago Maggiore, the pyramidal Generoso rising in the midst of verdant fields on the Lake of Lugano, the superb hills between the two arms of the Lake of Como and the fertile plains of the Brianza, and Monte Baldo, advancing its buttresses like lions’ claws into the waters of the Lake of Garda. The mountains of the Val Tellina, or the Orobia range, to the south of the valley of the Upper Adda, being remote from towns and customary highways, are less frequently visited than they deserve. Standing at their foot, we may almost fancy being in the Pyrenees. As to the dolomites, on the frontiers of Venetia and the Tyrol, they are unique. Their fantastically shaped rocks, delicately tinted with pink and other colours, contrast marvellously with the green of beeches and firs, or the blue waters of the lakes. Richthofen and others look upon these isolated mountain masses as ancient coral islands, or atolls, upheaved to a height varying between 6,500 and 10,400 feet; and, whatever their geological origin may be, they certainly contribute much towards the beauty of the Alpine regions.

If we descend the Italian slope of the Alps, we pass gradually from the more ancient to the most recent geological formation, until we finally reach the alluvial plain. Metamorphic rocks, verrucano, dolomites, and other rocks overlie the granites, the gneiss, and the schists of the more elevated mountain masses. These are succeeded by beds of Triassic and Jurassic age. Lower still we meet with terraces and hills composed of tertiary marls, clays, and conglomerates. Monte Bolca, so famous amongst geologists on account of its fossils, belongs to this formation.62 The whole of the plain of Lombardy and Piemont, with the exception of the isolated hillocks rising in it, and a few marine deposits near its margin, consists of débris brought down by the rivers. The depth of this accumulation is not yet known, for hitherto no borings have pierced it; but if we suppose the slopes of the Alps and the Apennines to continue uniformly, it would amount to no less than 4,130 feet. The two diagrams (Fig. 53) are intended to illustrate this feature. In the upper of these the heights are exaggerated tenfold; in the lower both the horizontal and the vertical scales are the same. A glance at this diagram reveals the astounding fact that the volume of this débris almost equals that of the existing mountain systems.

The vast plain stretching from the Adriatic to the foot of the Monte Rosa and the Viso may boast of its peninsulas, its islands, and even its archipelagos, as if it were a sea. The tertiary hills of Northern Monferrato, to the east of Turin, attain a height of 1,600 to 2,000 feet, and the valley of the Tanaro completely separates them from the Ligurian Alps and the Apennines. Even at the very foot of the Alps, as at Cavour and elsewhere, isolated granitic or porphyritic pyramids and domes rise in the midst of the plain sloping down towards the Po.63 The hump-backed Bosco Montello, to the south of the Piave, is another isolated hill; and on the banks of the Po may be seen a hillock of pebbles and marine sands, abounding in fossils, which bears the village of San Colombano and its vineyards. Several volcanic peaks, surrounded by cretaceous formations, rise in the midst of the plains to the east of the Lake of Garda. The craters of the Berici, near Vicenza, and of the Euganean Hills, near Padua, have not vomited flames within the historical epoch, but the hot and the gas springs which issue from clefts in the trachytic and basaltic rocks prove sufficiently that volcanic forces are not yet quite extinct in that part of Italy. Earthquakes occur frequently in the neighbouring Alps, and particularly near Belluno and Bassano.

A similar volcanic zone extends along the northern slope of the Apennines, which bound the valley of the Po on the south. Hydrogen gas escapes from fissures in the rocks to the south of Modena and Bologna, and is utilised in several instances in the manufacture of lime, and for other purposes. These gas springs of Pietra Mala, Porretta, and Barigazzo were known by the ancients and during the Middle Ages as “fiery springs,” and they illuminated the path of the traveller overtaken by the night. Lower down the slope, almost on the verge of the plains, we meet with a line of mud volcanoes, or bombi, the most famous of which are those of Sassuolo, near Modena. The largest of these, that of Mirano, has no less than forty craters. The ancient gulf of the sea, now converted into a plain, is thus skirted by volcanic cones, mud volcanoes, hot springs, and deposits of sulphur. As high up as Piemont, and notably at Acqui, we meet with hot springs, attesting that volcanic activity is not yet altogether extinct.

La Dent blanche, 14,319 ft. Château des Dames, 11,998 ft. Mt. Cervin, 14,705 ft. Mischabel Hōrner, 14,942 ft. Breithorn, 13,680 ft. Monte Rosa (Dufour Spitze, 15,217 ft.).

The valleys of the Alps and the plains extending along their foot were filled, in a former geological epoch, with huge glaciers, descending from what was anciently the immense glacial region of Central Europe. There is not a valley between that of the Tanaro in the west, and that of the Isonzo descending from the mountains of Carinthia, but contains accumulations of débris carried down by the glaciers, and now covered with vegetation. Most of these ancient glaciers exceeded those of the Monte Rosa and the Finsteraarhorn in extent, and several of them rivalled the existing glaciers of the Himalaya. If we would gain a notion of what the Alps were like during this glacial epoch, we must go to Greenland or to the Antarctic regions.

One of the smallest of these ice streams, that which descended from the mountains of Tenda in the direction of Cuneo, had a length of thirty miles. That which brought down the ice of Mont Genèvre, Mont Tabor, and Mont Cenis had twice that length, and its moraines formed a veritable amphitheatre of hills, locally known as regione alla pietre, or stony region. Farther north the streams of ice descending from the Pennine Alps between the Grand Paradis and Mont Blanc united in a single stream eighty miles in length, and spread over the plain far beyond Ivrea. The alluvial accumulation of this ancient glacier rises 1,100 and even 2,130 feet above the valley through which the Dora Baltea now flows. One of its lateral moraines, known as the Serra d’Ivrea, forms a regular rampart to the east of the river, eighteen miles in extent. Its slopes are now covered with chestnuts. The western ravine (Colle di Brossa) is less prominent, because it is inferior in height; but the frontal ravine, forming a complete demicircle, can still be traced readily. In the débris accumulated at the foot of this ancient glacier, rocks derived from Mont Blanc are mixed with others brought down from Mont Cervin. And yet it was but a dwarf when compared with the ancient twin glacier of the Ticino and the Adda, which extended from the Simplon to the Stelvio, filled up the cavities now occupied by the Lago Maggiore and the Lake of Como, sent a lateral branch to the tortuous bed of the Lake of Lugano, and finally, after a course of from 100 to 120 miles, debouched upon the plain of Lombardy. The glacier of the Oglio was small in comparison with it, but it was exceeded by that of the Adige, the most considerable of all on the southern slope of the Alps. This river of ice, from the mountains of the Oetzthal, where it originated, to its terminal moraine to the north of Mantua, had a length of 175 miles. One of its branches descended towards the east, down the valley of the Drave, as far as where the town of Klagenfurt now stands. Its main stream filled up the cavity of the Lake of Garda, pushing along a formidable rampart of elevated moraines.

The hand of man is scarcely able to make an impression upon the vast accumulations heaped up by the action of the glaciers. The hills of Solferino, of Cavriana, and Somma Campagna, so often named in connection with battles, are nothing but débris brought down from the flanks of the Alps, and they were much higher formerly than they are now.

Some of the erratic blocks were as large as houses, but, being used as quarries, they are fast disappearing. One of them at Pianezza, at the mouth of the Susa valley, is 80 feet long, 40 feet broad, and 46 feet high, and a chapel has been built upon it. The huge erratic blocks in the hills between the two arms of the Lake of Como have supplied materials for the monolithic columns of the churches and palaces in the environs. The slopes of the hills of Turin facing the Alps are likewise covered with erratic blocks.

When the glaciers retired into the upper valleys of the Alps, the soil which they covered was left bare, and the depressions now occupied by the beautiful lakes of Lombardy were revealed. These depressions, whose bottom even now sinks down below the level of the ocean, were formerly arms of the sea, in character very much like the fiords of Norway. That such was the case is proved by the presence, in every one of the Lombard lakes, of a sardine (the agone), which naturalists consider to be a sea fish. In Garda Lake, moreover, there still dwell two marine fishes which have adapted themselves to their new condition of life, as well as a small marine shell-fish.

The number of these Alpine lakes was much larger formerly, and those which still exist shrink from year to year. In Upper Piemont alluvial deposits have long ago filled up the lakes, and there now only remain a few pools of water to indicate their site. The first sheets of water to which the term “lake” may fairly be applied are met with on both banks of the Dora Baltea (see Fig. 57). The little basin of Candia and the shallow Lake of Azeglio, to the west and east of the river, are the only remains of Lacus Clisius, which covered an area of several hundred square miles until its waters broke through the semicircular terminal moraine which bounded it on the south. The Dora Baltea formerly escaped from this lake in the south-east, its present course only dating from the fourteenth century.

Since this reservoir has been drained, the first lake of importance in the west is that of Verbano, very inappropriately called Lago Maggiore, or the “principal lake,” as that of Garda exceeds it in extent. Ancient beaches, at an elevation of 1,300 feet above the sea, prove that the waters of the lake have considerably subsided, and that its area was much larger formerly; and it curiously ramified with neighbouring lake basins, now merely connected with it by rivers. The ancient moraine at the foot of this lake, and through which the Ticino has excavated itself a passage, still rises to a height of 980 feet.

Centuries elapsed before the changes which we now perceive were accomplished. Still they proceeded at a sufficiently rapid rate. Even now the alluvium carried down by the Ticino and the Maggia continually encroaches upon the Lago Maggiore. Seven hundred years ago the village of Gordola stood on the shore of the lake: it is now nearly a mile away from it. The landing-places of Magadino, at the mouth of the Ticino, have to be continually shifted, for the lake retires steadily. Only sixty years ago barges were able to receive their cargoes at a wharf nearly half a mile higher up than the present one. The Gulf of Locarno is gradually being separated from the main sheet of water by alluvial deposits brought down by the Maggia.

The Lario, or Lake of Como, which rivals the Maggiore by its beauty, is likewise being gradually silted up. In the time of the Romans the navigation extended as far as Summolacus (lake-head), the modern Samolaco. But the torrent of Mera gradually converted most of the upper extremity of the lake into an alluvial plain, whilst the alluvial deposits carried down by the Adda cut off the remainder from the main body of water. There now remains only the Lacus Dimidiatus, or Lake of Mezzola, which is shrinking from year to year, and will finally disappear altogether. The miasmata rising from the swamps at the mouth of the Adda have frequently depopulated the environs, and the ruined fort of Fuentes, at the mouth of the river, built to defend the Val Tellina, was hardly ever more than a hospital for its fever-stricken garrison.

The south-eastern arm of the lake, that of Lecco, through which the Adda makes its escape to the south, has likewise been divided into a series of separate basins. Nature, which would convert these lakes into bottom-lands at no distant date, is being aided here by the works of man. The barrier which obstructed the free egress of the Adda has been cleared away, the structures of fishermen have been removed, and, in consequence of these and other engineering measures, the once-dreaded rises of the lake have been reduced to a minimum, and the southernmost of the lake basins, that of Brivio, has been converted into dry land. The large Lake of Brianza, which extended formerly far to the south-west, has likewise been partially drained, and there now remain only a few lakelets of small extent.

We know sufficient of the bottom of the Lake of Como to enable us to judge of the manner in which it is becoming gradually filled up with alluvium. The mud deposited in its northern portion has filled up all the original inequalities of the soil, and even in the centre of the lake, and in its south-eastern arm, the bottom is almost a perfect level. In the Como arm, however, which receives no tributary river of any importance, the bottom is still full of inequalities. These differences amply prove to us the geological agency of the rivers, which must terminate in the lake being converted into a bottom-land, with a river flowing through its centre. The third of our diagrams (Fig. 62) shows that the greatest depth now hardly exceeds 1,300 feet, whilst, if we may judge from the slopes of the hills which bound it, the depth in former times cannot have been less than 2,300 feet.

The Sebino, or Lake of Iseo, and the lakelet of Idro, which are fed by the glacier streams of the Adamello, exhibit the same features as the lakes farther to the west. The Benaco, or Lake of Garda, however, the most extensive of these Alpine lakes, is very stable as regards its outline and the configuration of its bottom, a fact sufficiently explained by the small size of its tributary streams as compared with its vast area. The old Alpine lakes of the Venetian Alps have disappeared long ago, and there remain only a few ponds, filling cavities in the dolomitic rocks and peat bogs, to indicate their ancient sites.64

These lacustrine basins, like all other reservoirs of the same kind, regulate the outflow of the torrents which empty into them. During the freshets they store up the superabundant waters, and only part with them in the dry season, and upon their difference of level in different seasons depend the oscillations of the emissary rivers which issue from them. In the case of the Lake of Garda, which drains but a small area in proportion to its size, this difference is small, and throughout the year the pellucid waters of the Mincio flow tranquilly beneath the blackened ramparts of Peschiera. Such is not the case as regards either the Lago Maggiore or the Lake of Como, for the volume of water discharged into them is so considerable that their level in summer and winter varies to the extent of several yards, and corresponding differences may be observed in the rivers issuing from them. Lake Como rises no less than 12 feet, and increases 70 square miles in area, whilst the Lago Maggiore sometimes rises 22 feet, and increases to the extent of one-fifth. The volume of the Ticino, when at its highest, almost equals the average volume of the Nile, and if it were not for the regulating influence of the lake from which it issues, it would alternately convert the plains of Lombardy into a sheet of water and leave them an arid tract of land.65

The Alpine lakes of Italy thus play an important part in the economy of the country. They render the climate more equable, serve as high-roads of commerce, and, being the centres of animal life, attract a dense population. But it is not this which has rendered these lakes famous, which has attracted thousands of wanderers ever since the time of the Romans, and caused villas and palaces to rise on their shores: it is their incomparable beauty. And, indeed, there are few spots in Europe which bear comparison with the delightful Gulf of Pallanza, over which are scattered the Borromean Islands, or with the peninsula of Bellagio, which may be likened to a hanging garden suspended within sight of the snow-clad Alps, and affording a prospect of the rock-bound shores of the Como Lake, cultivated fields, and numerous villas. Perhaps even more delightful is the peninsula of Sermione, jutting out into the azure waters of the Garda Lake, like the tender stalk of a flower developing into a many-coloured petal.

Most of the lakes in the plain have been drained into the neighbouring rivers. The Lake of Gerondo, mentioned in mediæval records, has dwindled down into a small swamp, or mosi, now, and its populous island of Fulcheria has become merged in the plain of Lombardy. The lakes on the southern bank of the Po, above Guastalla, have likewise been drained; and if the two shallow lakes of Mantua still exist, this is entirely due to the embankments raised in the twelfth century. It would have been much better, and would have saved the city the horrors of many a siege, if these lakes had been allowed to disappear likewise.

The lagoons along the Adriatic have decreased in extent in the course of centuries, and whilst new lagoons are being formed, the old ones are gradually being converted into dry land. The old maps of the Venetian littoral differ essentially from our modern ones, and yet all the vast changes they indicate have been wrought in the course of a few centuries. The swamps of Caorle, between the Piave and the Gulf of Trieste, have changed to an extent which prevents us from restoring the ancient topography of the country; and if the lagoons of Venice and Chioggia exhibit a certain permanence of contour, this is only on account of the incessant interference of man. The ancient lagoon of Brondolo has been dry land since the middle of the sixteenth century. The large lagoon of Comacchio, to the south of the Po, has been cut up into separate portions by alluvial embankments formed by the agency of rivers and torrents. For the most part it consists now of valli, or alluvial deposits, but there still remain a few profound cavities, or chiari, which the rivers have not yet succeeded in filling up. Formerly these lagoons extended far to the south in the direction of Ravenna, and, according to Strabo and other ancient writers, that ancient city once occupied a site very much like that of Venice or Chioggia in our own days.

There can be no doubt that these lagoons were anciently separated from the Adriatic by a narrow strip of land over 120 miles in length, and similar to what we still meet with on the coasts of Carolina and of the Brazils. This ancient barrier still exists in the lidi of Venice and Comacchio, which are pierced at intervals, admitting the vivifying floods of the open sea. Elsewhere the traces of this ancient beach must be looked for on the mainland. The low delta of the Po is traversed from north to south by a range of dunes constituting the continuation of the lidi of Venice, and extending into the swamps of Comacchio, where they form a natural embankment running parallel with the coast. These dunes, between the Adige and Cervia, are covered with sombre pine woods, replaced here and there by oaks. The underwood mainly consists of hawthorns and juniper-trees, and wild boars still haunt it.

No sooner have the lagoons protected by these barriers been converted into dry land than the sea seizes upon the sand, and forms it into new curvilinear barriers similar to the former ones. The principal range of dunes to the east of Ravenna, which is about 20 miles in length, and varies in width between 50 and 3,300 yards, has thus two other ranges of dunes running parallel with it, one of them being still in course of formation. Signor Pareto has estimated the annual advance of the land at 7½ feet, and at much more near the mouths of rivers.

The sea thus marks by a series of barriers its successive recoils. Sometimes, however, the sea gains upon the land in consequence of a gradual subsidence of the Venetian shore, the cause of which has not yet been elucidated. Thus the gravel bank of Cortellazzo, opposite the swamps of Caorle, appears to have anciently been a lido which has sunk nearly 70 feet below the level of the sea. The islands which fringed the littoral of Aquileja during the Middle Ages have almost wholly disappeared. In the time of the Romans these islands were populous; there were forests and fields upon them, and the inhabitants built ships. The chronicles of the Middle Ages tell us that the Doge of Venice and the Patriarch of Aquileja hunted stags and wild boars upon them, much to the scandal of the inhabitants. At the present day the dunes which of yore protected these islands have almost wholly disappeared, the forests have been supplanted by reeds, and Grado is the only place on the littoral which may still boast of a certain number of inhabitants. Piers, walls, mosaic pavements, and even stones bearing inscriptions, which are found occasionally at the bottom of the sea or of swamps, prove that the mainland was formerly more extensive there. Farther to the west the littoral of Venice bears evidence of a similar subsidence. Artesian wells sunk in the city of the lagoons have led to the discovery of four beds of turf, the deepest no less than 420 feet below the level of the sea. The subterranean church of St. Mark has within historical times been converted into a submarine church, and streets and buildings are gradually sinking beneath the waters of the lagoons. If it were not for the alluvium brought down by the rivers, the sea would continually encroach upon the land. Ravenna, too, participates in this subsidence, which Signor Pareto estimates to amount to 0·60 inch in the course of a century.

Amongst the geological agents constantly at work to modify the surface of the earth, the rivers and torrents irrigating the plain lying at the foot of the Alps are the most active, and no other country of Europe, Holland alone excepted, can compare in this respect with Northern Italy.

The torrent of Isonzo offers one of the most striking instances of these geological revolutions. It is said to have formerly communicated through subterranean channels with the Istrian Timavo, and that its existence as a separate river does not date very far back. Ancient writers do not enumerate the Isonzo amongst the rivers flowing into the Adriatic. It is first mentioned in a document of the sixth century as a river irrigating some inland valley. On Peutinger’s Table we meet with a station, Ponte Sonti, far to the east of Aquileja, and near the sources of the Timavo. The chronicles are silent with respect to the peripatetics of this river, but a careful examination of the surrounding hills justifies the assumption that the valley of Tolmein, on the Upper Isonzo, was formerly a lake which overflowed towards the north-west through the narrows of Caporetto, and that its pent-up waters found their way through the Natisone into the Adriatic. Subsequently they opened themselves a passage to the south, and another lake was formed at the confluence of Isonzo and Wippach. This lake communicated by subterranean channels with the Timavo, but it has now disappeared, and the Isonzo flows directly into the sea, its bed wandering continuously towards the east. The alluvium carried down by this river has formed the peninsula of Sdobba, and joined several old islands to the mainland.

The Tagliamento is even a more active geological agent than its neighbour just beyond the frontier. The débris deposited at the mouth of the narrow gorge in which it rises covers many square miles of a once fertile plain. In summer its waters trickle through these accumulations of shingle, but after heavy rain the river is converted into a powerful torrent several miles in width, and all the more formidable as its bed lies higher than many parts of the surrounding country. The Meduna and Zelline, to the west of the Tagliamento, are equally destructive, and an extensive tract at their confluence is covered with shingles. Lower down, in the lagoons, these torrents have thrown up huge embankments of sand on either side of their ancient beds. The alluvium brought down by these torrents to the sea is in every instance deposited to the west, a circumstance accounted for by the direction of the coast current.

The Piave, the most considerable river to the east of the Adige, is likewise a most active geological agent, converting fertile fields into sterile shingle tracts, filling up swamps, and carrying large quantities of matter into the sea. At its mouth the land gains rapidly upon the sea, and Heraclea of the Veneti, now known as Cittanova, which was a seaport once, at the present time lies far inland.

The Piave was formerly supposed to have changed its bed in the same manner as the Isonzo. Below the Capo di Ponte, a wild defile in the Dolomite Alps, the Piave flows towards the south-west, past Belluno, and lower down is joined by the Cordevole. It was, however, supposed that the river originally flowed through the valley of Rai, immediately to the south of the Capo di Ponte, and that the Meschio and Livenzo constituted its lower course. Earthquakes or landslips were supposed to have created a barrier across that valley, and the small lakes still seen there were looked upon as remains of the ancient river bed. But M. de Mortillet has shown that this hypothesis is untenable, for the barrier referred to is merely the moraine of an ancient glacier, and there exist no traces whatever of landslips.

At the same time it cannot be doubted that extensive changes have taken place in the basin of the Piave. Thus in 1771 the course of the Cordevole, its most important tributary, was obstructed for a time by a landslip which carried the verdant terraces of Pezza down into the valley. Two villages were destroyed, and two others overwhelmed by the rising floods of the river.

The Brenta, which rises in the beautiful Sugana valley of the Tyrol, has at all times been a source of anxiety to the Venetians on account of its irregularities. Formerly it entered the lagoons at Fusina, and its alluvium filled up the canals and infected the air. The Paduans and other inhabitants of the lowlands were anxious to divert it by the most direct course into the lagoons, so as to avoid inundations, whilst the Venetians were solicitous to get rid of a river which threatened to fill up their lagoons and render them insalubrious. These conflicting interests gave rise to numerous wars. The possession of the coast became a question of existence to the Venetians, and no sooner had they obtained it than they set about “regulating” the Lower Brenta. Hy means of two canals, the Brenta Nuova, or Brentone, and the Brenta Nuovissima, the river was conducted right round the lagoons to the port of Brondolo, a few miles to the north of the Adige. But the river, whose course had thus been considerably lengthened, gradually filled up the bed in its upper course, and it was found impossible to confine it within its lateral embankments. They were broken through by the floods no less than twenty times between 1811 and 1859, and, as the channel of the river became more and more choked, a more frequent recurrence of such disasters was naturally expected. It was then resolved to shorten the course of the river to the extent of ten miles, by diverting it into a portion of the lagoon of Chioggia. The danger of irruptions has thus been averted for a time, but the fisheries of Chioggia have been completely destroyed, and fever is a frequent visitor in the towns of the littoral.

There can be no doubt that but for the efforts of the Venetian engineers the lagoons of the Lido, Malamocco, and Chioggia would long ago have been converted into dry land. Venice has at all times been alive to the necessity of preserving its precious inland sea. The Venetian engineers were not content with turning aside the torrents which formerly poured their waters into the lagoons; they have also, by means of canals, moved the mouths of the Sile and Piave to the east, thus securing the ports of the Lido from the dreaded alluvium of the rivers. They even conceived the gigantic project of a huge encircling canal for the interception of all the Alpine torrents between the Brenta and Isonzo. This project, however, has never been carried out. The débris carried southward by the coast current has silted up the port of the Lido, which was abandoned towards the close of the fifteenth century, when a new military port was constructed eight miles farther south, at the canal of Malamocco, and it is now protected by a pier extending 7,200 feet into the sea.

The torrents which descend from the slopes of the Apennines to the south of the delta of the Adige and Po are as erratic in their course as those of Venetia. The Trebbia, the Taro, and other rivers irrigating the districts of Piacenza and Parma only cross a narrow plain between the mountains and the Po, and do not much modify the topography of the country. But this cannot be said of the rivers flowing through the vast plains of Modena, Bologna, Ferrara, and Imola. They are constantly changing their beds, and the remains of embankments met with all over the country prove that all efforts to confine them permanently have proved abortive. Modena itself was once destroyed by the floods of the Secchia. The Tanaro, the Reno, and other rivers flowing towards the north-west, either into the canal encircling the lagoons of Comacchio or direct into the sea, all have a history attached to them; they are blessed for their fertilising alluvium, cursed on account of their destructive floods. One of them, probably the Fiumicino, is the famous Rubicon which bounded the Italy of the Romans, and which was crossed by Cæsar when he pronounced the fatal words, “Alea jacta est.”

The Reno is the most erratic, the most dangerous of all these Apennine rivers. The bed of débris deposited by it in the plain measures 20 miles across from east to west. Its volume varies between 35 and 49,500 cubic feet a second, according to the season, and its bed is in places no less than 30 feet above the adjoining country. The destruction of the forests has augmented the danger of its inundations. The engineers, puzzled by its irregular floods, have proposed the most opposite plans for subduing this terrible scourge. The river has been turned into the Po; then eastward, direct into the sea. Recently it has been proposed to divert it to the lagoons of Comacchio. But all these diversions are attended with disadvantages, and whilst the inhabitants of one district congratulate themselves upon having got rid of so troublesome a neighbour, those of another complain of its inundations, see their fisheries destroyed, and their navigation interfered with.

Lombardini, the famous hydraulic engineer, has shown how we may discover the places to which the soil of the lowlands of Emilia has been conveyed by the torrents, and trace the ancient shores of the lagoon of Padua, now converted into dry land. A traveller following the Emilian causeway from Cesena to Bologna can hardly help noticing the quadrangular fields on his right, all of them of the same size. Looked at from the spurs of the Apennines, the plain resembles a huge draught-board, the squares of which are covered alternately with verdure and ripening crops. We learn from the topographical maps that these fields are exactly of the same size, and there can be no doubt that we have here before us the fields which, according to Livy, were taken from the Gauls and distributed amongst Roman military settlers. A sinuous line marks, in the direction of the Po, the shore of an ancient lake. The rectangular fields, laid out by the cadastral surveyors of ancient Rome, cease there, and we find ourselves again amidst the usual labyrinth of ditches and tortuous roads. This lake has been filled up long ago by the débris brought down by the torrents.

The Po, proportionately to the area it drains and its length, has undergone fewer changes than either the Piave or the Reno, but looking to the populous cities which line its banks, and to the fertility of its fields, the least of these is of some importance.

The torrent fed by the snows of Monte Viso is usually looked upon as the head stream of Father Po, as the ancient Romans called the river; but the Mastra, Varaita, and Clusone are quite equal to it in volume, and feed as many canals of irrigation. Indeed, these canals would quickly drain the Po if it were not for a bountiful supply of snow-water brought down by the Dora Riparia, the Stura, the Orca, and the Dora Baltea from the glaciers of the Alps. Lower down, the Po receives the Sesia from the north, and the Tanaro, which is fed by streams rising in the Apennines and the Alps. Then comes the Ticino, by far the most important tributary of the Po, “without which,” as the river fishermen say, “il Po non sarebbe Po.”

The Po, after its junction with the Ticino, exhibits no longer the features of a mountain torrent; the pebbles have been triturated into the finest dust, and no piled-up masses of débris are met with along its banks. If it were not for its dykes, or argini, it might spread itself freely over the plain. These artificial embankments rival those of the Netherlands, and date back to the most remote ages. Lucian refers to them as if they had existed from time immemorial. During the great migration of peoples they were allowed to decay, and only in the course of the ninth century were measures taken to restore them. In 1480 the great work had been achieved. Its importance may be judged from the fact that these embankments protect 3,000,000 acres of the most fertile land, yielding annually more than £8,000,000 sterling’s worth of agricultural produce. Most of the towns have been built upon artificial platforms or terraces, and up to the beginning of this century they have never been known to suffer from floods; but whether owing to the devastation of the forests or to the closing up of all breaches in the dykes, the floods rise higher now than they did of yore, and it has been found necessary to throw up embankments around Revere, Sermide, Ostiglia, Governolo, Borgoforte, and other places.

Continuous embankments begin at Cremona, and they extend not only along both banks of the Po, but also along the lower course of its tributaries. The main dykes have a length of nearly 650 miles. In addition to these there are smaller dykes traversing the space between these froldi, or main dykes, in all directions, and enclosing willow plantations, fields, and even vineyards. In fact, the river extends to the foot of the main dykes only in a few localities. It is ordinarily only 650 to 1,600 feet wide, whilst the dykes are several miles apart, to allow the river to spread during the inundations. The land thus lying within the dykes has been divided by the villagers into golene, and is protected by smaller dykes against ordinary floods. The rules laid down for the construction of embankments have been drawn up in the general interest, and are sufficiently precise, but they are not always observed. The old system, embodied in the dreadful proverb, “Vita mia, morte tua,” is not yet quite extinct. Formerly the peasants were in the habit of crossing over to the other bank, and deliberately cutting through the embankments there, thus saving their own crops by ruining their neighbours’.

The width of the bed of inundation enclosed between these embankments grows less in proportion as we descend the river, and in the case of the arms of the delta does not exceed 900 to 1,600 feet. This is not sufficient to enable the waters to escape during extraordinary floods, when they sometimes rise 25 and even 30 feet. Besides, it frequently happens that the villagers fail to keep the embankments in thorough repair, and sometimes entire districts are ruined because the mole-tracks were not stopped up. A breach in the embankment, unless quickly filled up, produces untold misery. The crops are destroyed, the villages levelled with the ground, the soil is torn up and carried off, and the inhabitants are swept away by famine and its fearful attendant, typhus fever. These great floods of the Po and the earthquakes of Calabria are the two plagues of Italy. In 1872 1,200 square miles between the Secchia and the sea were converted into a lake. Two years afterwards there still remained pools of water.

In these great disasters the inhabitants are afforded an opportunity of exhibiting their valour, and it is always the most energetic who succeed in protecting their property from being washed away by the floods. During the flood just referred to, the inhabitants of the little town of Ostiglia fought successfully with the rising waters, whilst many of their neighbours succumbed. The town stands close to the froldo, and there is no second line of dykes to protect it. The dyke threatened to give way. The inhabitants at once set about throwing up a second barrier. All the able-bodied men of the place, 4,000 in number, turned out to work, headed by their mayor. They worked day and night, and, as the floods carried away the old dyke, the new one rose in its rear. The victory was won; the floods retired, and their houses were safe.

Some of those breaches in the dykes have led to permanent changes in the course of the river, and these divagations have been most considerable in the delta. During the time of the Romans, and up to the thirteenth century, the Po di Volano was the principal branch of the river, whilst now it has dwindled down to an insignificant ditch which can hardly be traced through the swamps of Comacchio. Two other branches, farther to the south, are used now as carriage roads. In the eighth century the Po di Primaro, which enters the sea to the north of Ravenna, took the place of these old channels. Another bifurcation ensued in 1152, when the embankment at Ficcarolo was destroyed, it is said, by the people living above that town, and the main channel of the river, the Maestra, deserted the walls of Ferrara in the midst of its swamps, and united itself with the channels of the Adige. Breaches in the embankments usually take place in October or November, and generally at the same places. The danger is always greatest at Corbola, where the Po di Maestra bifurcates.

The Adige is quite as great a wanderer as the Po. Scarcely has that river left its defile, or chiusa, of calcareous mountains and the fortifications of Verona than it begins its erratic course over the plain. In the time of the Romans the Adige flowed much farther to the north, along the foot of the Euganean Hills, and entered the sea at Brondolo. In 587 the river broke through its embankments, and its main branch took the direction which it maintains up to the present day, entering the sea at Fossone. But new channels opened repeatedly towards the south, until the Adige and Po conjointly formed but one delta. The Polesina of Rovigo, between the two rivers, and that of Ferrara, are low tracts of alluvial land. The courtyard of the Castle of Ferrara, which occupies one of the most elevated sites in these plains, is nine feet lower than the highest level of the Po when flooded.

The frequent inundations caused by the Po and the numerous changes of its bed, by spreading the alluvium all over the country, have raised the whole of the plains to about the same level. But now, when all the arms of the Po are confined within embankments, most of the alluvium brought down by the floods is deposited on the coast of the Adriatic. The land, therefore, gains much more rapidly upon the sea than it did formerly. The series of dunes marking the ancient shore now lies fifteen miles inland, and the new land formed annually is estimated at 280 acres. In exceptional years the quantity of solid matter carried by the river into the sea amounts to 3,531,000,000 cubic feet; on an average it is 1,623,000,000 cubic feet, sufficient to form an island ten square miles in area in ten feet of water. The Po, next to the Danube, is the most active geological agent amongst all the rivers entering the Mediterranean.66 The Rhone is inferior to it, and so is the Nile. At the present rate of progress, the Po, in the course of a thousand years, will throw a tongue of land six miles wide across the Adriatic, converting the Gulf of Trieste into an inland sea.

Northern Italy, in addition to these numerous rivers, possesses one of the most extensive systems of canals in the world, which has served as a pattern to all the rest of Europe. Lombardy, portions of Piemont, the Campagna of Turin, the Lomellina on the Ticino, and the Polesinas of Ferrara and Rovigo possess a wonderful ramification of irrigation, which carries fertile alluvium to the exhausted fields. In the Middle Ages, when the remainder of Europe was still shrouded in darkness, the Lombard republics already practised the art of irrigation on the vastest scale, and drained their low-lying plains. Milan, after she had thrown off the yoke of her German oppressors, towards the close of the twelfth century, constructed the Naviglio Grande, a ship canal derived from the Ticino, thirty miles distant—probably the first great engineering work of the kind in Europe. In the beginning of the thirteenth century the superabundant waters of the Adda were utilised in filling the Muzza Canal. The same river, at a subsequent period, was made to feed another canal, the Martesana, which was constructed by the great Leonardo da Vinci. The art of surmounting elevations of the ground by means of locks had been discovered by Milanese engineers about a century before that time, and was applied to the construction of secondary canals. Amongst works of more recent date are the naviglio from Milan to Pavia; the Cavour Canal, fed by the Po, below Turin; and the Canal of Verona, derived from the Adige.67

Not only the rivers of Northern Italy, but also the springs, or fontanelle, however small, which burst forth at the foot of the Alps, are utilised for purposes of irrigation. Virgil alludes to these springs in his Bucolics, where he says, “Children, stop the water; the meadows have drunk enough.” Lombardy is indebted to these springs for her fine prairies, or marcite, which sometimes yield eight crops a year. The great Adriatic plain has indeed undergone vast changes through the work of man. Originally it was a swamp surrounded by forests and heaths, but is now one of the best-cultivated countries of Europe. One of its great features consists in plantations of mulberries, the uniformity of which is relieved in many districts—and especially in the Brianza of Como, that garden of Italy—by groups of tall trees, little lakes, and sinuous valleys. There still remain extensive heaths covering the moraines of ancient glaciers, which become more and more sterile from year to year; but the engineers are considering schemes for irrigating them by means of the fertilising waters of the Alpine lakes.

The irrigated area in the valley of the Po nearly amounts to 5,000 square miles, and the water it absorbs every second is estimated at 35,000,000 cubic feet, equal to about one-third of the volume of the Po. If the proposed works of irrigation are carried out, the Po, which now plays so important a part in the economy of the country by its floods and alluvial deposits, will be reduced to the dimensions of a small river.

The evaporation from the numerous rivers and canals of the country fills the air with moisture. Rains are less frequent than on the Atlantic coasts of England and France, but the clouds, driven by southerly winds against the cool slopes of the Alps, discharge themselves in torrents. The quantity of rain that falls in the upper Alpine valleys equals that of the most humid districts of Portugal, the Hebrides, and Norway, and the rainfall in the plains of Lombardy is equal to that of Ireland. The annual rainfall in the basin of the Piave is estimated at five feet, exclusive of what may evaporate or be absorbed by plants. These rains are not confined to certain seasons, though it has been observed that they are most abundant in May and October, and least so in February and July.68

As regards the direction of the winds, the great plain bounded by the Apennines and the Alps resembles an Alpine valley, the winds either blowing up it from east to west, or in an inverse direction. The winds descending from the Alps rarely bring rain, for they have deposited their moisture on the western slopes, but those coming from the Adriatic are generally charged with moisture. Nevertheless, owing to the great extent of the plains and the numerous breaks in the mountain chains, this rule is frequently interfered with. In the Alpine valleys the ascending and descending currents are far more regular, and the navigators on the lakes fully avail themselves of this circumstance.

The forty-fifth degree of north latitude intersects the valley of the Po, but the climate, nevertheless, is not as mild as might be expected from this circumstance, and the range of temperature is great. In the Val Tellina the temperature sometimes rises above 90°, and frequently fails below freezing point. In the plain the climate is less austere, but it is notwithstanding continental in its character; and Turin, Milan, and Bologna are for this reason the least pleasant cities of Italy to live in. A few favoured spots on the Alpine lakes, such as the Borromean Islands, are an exception to this rule, and enjoy an equable climate, thanks to the moderating influences of a vast expanse of water. In the Gulf of Pallanza the thermometer never falls below 40° F., and we must go as far as Naples if we would meet with a climate equally favourable to vegetation. Venice, too, is a privileged spot, thanks to the vicinity of the Adriatic, and is healthy, too, in spite of the lagoons which surround it. It is remarkable that these brackish lakes and swamps of Northern Italy do not give rise to the dreaded malarial fevers. Venice undoubtedly owes its healthiness to the tides, which are higher there than in the Tyrrhenian Sea, and perhaps, also, to the cold winds descending from the Alps. Comacchio, too, is a healthy place, and young natives of the Polesina suffering from consumption are sent there to recover their health. Wherever the engineers have cut up the connection between the lagoons and the open sea, marsh fever has made its appearance. The swamps of Ravenna and Cervia breed malignant fevers, especially where avaricious landowners have cut down the protecting rows of pines and oaks. A heavy miasmal air hangs likewise over the environs of Ferrara and Malalbergo, at the head of the Paduan delta.

The Alpine valleys are the most unhealthy spots of Northern Italy, for they are deprived of sunlight. Goître and idiotcy are frequent there, and in the valley of Aosta nearly all the women are afflicted with the former, owing, perhaps, to the water which flows over magnesian rocks. The inhabitants of districts traversed by numerous canals suffer from diseases traceable to miasmal effluvia. The food of the peasantry is not sufficiently nourishing or varied to counteract these deleterious influences, and many die of pellagre, an incurable skin disease, only known in countries where the flour of maize, in the diluted form of polenta, constitutes the principal article of food. In the province of Cremona one in every twenty-four inhabitants is afflicted with this malady. The sanitary condition of the people is even worse in the rice-fields of Milan and the Polesina. The women there frequently stand for hours in tepid putrefying water, and are obliged from time to time to pick off the leeches which creep up their legs.69

But in spite of maladies, misery, and famines, always following in the train of the inundations, the fertile plain of the Po is one of the most densely peopled portions of Europe. Every plot of ground there has been utilised. The forests, very much reduced in size, harbour no game, except, perhaps, on the Alpine slopes, and even small birds are rare. Not only snipes, quails, and thrushes are shot or trapped, but also nightingales and swallows. Tschudi estimates the number of singing birds annually killed on the shores of the Lago Maggiore at 60,000; and at Bergamo, Verona, Chiavenna, and Brescia they are slain by millions, the nets being spread in the hedges of every hill.

The population of the valley of the Po is composed of the most diverse elements. Amongst its ancestors were Ligurians, probably the kinsmen of our Basks; Etruscans, famous for their works of irrigation; Gallic tribes, whose peculiar intonation is still traceable in the rural Latin spoken in Northern Italy; and Celtic Ombrians, the most remote of all, and looked upon by historians as the aboriginal inhabitants of the country.

The German invasions during the first centuries of our era have left a permanent mark upon the population of Northern Italy. The many tall men met with in the valley of the Po are proofs of this Transalpine influence. The Goths and Vandals, Herulians and Longobards, or Lombards, soon became merged in the Latinised masses, but their position as conquerors and feudal lords gave them an influence which their mere numbers would not have insured them. The ancient history of Lombardy is a continual struggle between the towns and these feudal lords, and as soon as the latter had been defeated—that is to say, about the beginning of the tenth century—German was superseded everywhere by Italian.

Family and topographical names of Lombard origin are very common on the left bank of the Po, and as far as the foot of the Apeninnes. Marengo, for instance, is a corruption of the German Mehring.

This German influence upon manners and language has been most enduring in the Friuil, or Furlanei, a district bounded by the Adriatic, the Carniolan Alps, and the plateau of the Karst, or Carso. The Friulians were even looked upon as a distinct race, though their ancestors, like those of most Italians of the north, were Latinised Celts. Frequent intermarriages with their Slovenian neighbours contributed in some measure to produce a type distinct from that of Venice or Treviso. The number of these Friulians still speaking their own dialect does not now exceed 50,000 souls.

Amongst the numerous German colonies of which traces have been found in the plains of Northern Italy and on the southern slopes of the Alps, the “Thirteen Communes” to the north of Verona, and the “Seven Communes” in the deep valleys to the north-west of Bassano, are the most considerable. The homines Teutonici of these two districts are supposed to be the descendants of the Cimbrians defeated by Marius, and blue eyes and fair hair still prevail amongst them, but in all other respects they resemble the Italians of the plains, and only a few old women amongst them still talk the language of their ancestors, which is said to resemble the dialect spoken on the Tegern Lake, in Bavaria. Nor were they the champions of German authority on Italian soil. On the contrary, they were charged by the Republic of Venice with the defence of the northern frontier, and have always valiantly acquitted themselves of this duty. In return, they were granted self-government and exemption from military service. But neither the Republic of Venice nor Austria was able to protect these German colonies against an invasion of the “Welsh” or Italian element, and there do not now exist any non-Italian communities to the east of the great lakes. To the north of Piemont, however, in the valleys descending from Monte Rosa and in the valley of Pommat, where the Toce forms one of the most beautiful waterfalls, German colonies still maintain their ground. They, too, would long ago have lost their language were it not for the support they receive from the Germans occupying the Swiss valleys on the northern slopes of the Alps. Alagna, or Olen, one of these German villages, preserved its ancient customs until quite recently. For centuries there had been no lawsuit there; contracts, testaments, and other legal documents were unknown; and everything was regulated by “custom;” that is, by the absolute authority of the heads of families.

The French element is far more numerous on the Italian slope of the Alps than the German. The inhabitants of the valley of Aosta, between the Grand Paradis and the Monte Rosa, of the upper valleys of the Dora Riparia, Cluson, Pelice, and Varaita, speak French, and are of the same origin as the Savoyards and Dauphinois on the western slope of the Alps. The configuration of the ground has facilitated this pacific invasion of the western Celts, numbering about 120,000 souls. They descended from the passes, and occupied the whole of the forest and pastoral region down to the foot of the hills, the last mountain defile, in many instances, forming their boundary. But the French language is steadily losing ground, for the official language is Italian, and every village has already two names, of which the modern Italian one is used by preference. The Vaudois, or Waldenses, in the valleys of Pelice (Pellis) and Cluson, above Pinerolo (Pignerol), alone resist this Italianisation with a certain amount of success, for they have a literature and history, and are held together by strong religious ties. Their sect was persecuted as early as the thirteenth century, long before the Reformation, and ever since, until their final emancipation in 1848, they have struggled against adversity. Many times it was thought they had been exterminated, but they always rose again, and in history they occupy a rank far out of proportion to their small numbers.

The bulk of the population are engaged in agriculture, which need not be wondered at if we bear in mind the fertility of the soil, the abundant supply of water, and the improvements effected in bygone ages. The labour invested in every kind of agricultural improvement, such as canals, embankments, terraces, or ronchi, built up like steps on the slope of every hill, has been immense, and defies computation. The mode of cultivation, moreover, entails a vast amount of labour, for the peasant knows not the iron plough, but tills his field with the spade: he is a gardener rather than an agriculturist. The agricultural produce is immense; its annual value is estimated at £80,000,000 sterling, and it furnishes large quantities for exportation. Cereals, forage, mulberry leaves and cocoons, vegetables and fruit, and cheese, including the famous Parmesan, are the principal products. Lombardy and Piemont occupy the first rank in the world for certain kinds of agricultural produce, and they are almost the only countries in Europe in which rice, introduced in the beginning of the sixteenth century, is extensively grown. The vineyards, on the other hand, are not as carefully tended as they might be, and the wines, with the exception of those of Asti, Monferrato, San Colombano, and Udine (the picolito), are of small repute.

The valley of the Po divides itself into several well-marked agricultural provinces. In the Alpine valleys, between Col di Tenda and Monte Tricorno, the greater portion of the forests and pastures is held in common, but nearly every mountaineer is likewise the free proprietor of a bit of meadow or land, which his labour has converted into a garden. The social condition of these mountaineers thus resembles that of the French peasantry; for they, likewise, enjoy the advantages of a minute division of the land amongst freehold proprietors. The hilly tracts along the foot of the mountains are divided into farms of moderate size. The peasant no longer owns the land, but, in accordance with old feudal customs, he shares in its produce. In the plain, where it is necessary to keep up a complicated system of canals, nearly all the land belongs to rich capitalists, who cut it up into numerous small farms, and for the most part reside in the towns. These small farmers have no resources of their own, and are hardly above the rank of agricultural labourers. Though they cultivate the most fertile region of Northern Italy, they are miserably fed, frequently decimated by disease, and least alive to the advantages of education. The contrast between these miserable peasants and the mountaineers of Vaudois and the Val Tellina is great indeed.

Periodically many of the mountaineers migrate to the towns and neighbouring countries in search of work, and a proverb tells us that there is no country in the world “without sparrows or Bergamosks.” But though the natives of the hills of Bergamo furnish a numerous contingent of these migrants, they are outnumbered by Friulians, inhabitants of the shores of the Lago Maggiore, and Piemontese. The latter cross the passes of the Western Alps in large numbers in search of work at Marseilles and other towns of Southern France, and, small wages sufficing for their frugal wants, they are not particularly liked by their French fellow-workmen.

The metallic wealth of Northern Italy is but small. The only mines of note are those which formerly supplied the famous armourers of Brescia with iron, and the gold diggings of Anzasca, at the foot of Monte Rosa, where 5,000 slaves were kept at work by the Romans, and which are not yet quite exhausted. Marble, gneiss, granite, potters’ clay, and kaolin are, however, found abundantly. In former times silks, velvets, carpets, glass, porcelain, metal-work, and other art productions of the workmen of Venice and Lombardy enjoyed a very high reputation. These ancient industries decayed with the downfall of the old republics, but there are signs now of their revival. The want of coal or other fuel for setting in motion the machinery of modern factories is compensated for, to some extent, by an abundant water power, and this explains why nearly all the important manufactories are met with at the debouchures of the Alpine valleys.

Amongst the ancient industries of the country not yet extinct, the fisheries of the lagoons of Comacchio occupy a foremost place. The Canal of Magnavacca, now hardly navigable, admits the waters of the sea into the Canal Palotta, which may be described as the great artery of these lagoons. It was constructed in 1631–34, and, by an ingeniously designed system of ramifying canals, carries the vivifying floods to the most remote parts of the lagoons. The various basins, or valli, of the lagoons are thus filled with sea-water, and constitute as many breeding beds, where the fish come from the sea multiply abundantly. A labyrinth of canals provided with flood-gates cuts off their retreat to the sea, and they are caught in immense numbers when the fishing season arrives. Spallanzani has seen 60,000 pounds of fish taken in a single bed, or valle, within an hour; but sometimes the draught is even more considerable, and the fish are actually used as manure. The fishing population of Comacchio numbers about 5,000 individuals, most of them distinguished by tall stature, great strength, and suppleness. Coste, the fish-breeder, mentions it as a curious fact that this secluded colony of fishermen should have retained these characteristic features for centuries, though sustained exclusively by fishing, and living upon mullets, eels, and acquadelle. Unfortunately these fishermen are not the proprietors of the ponds, for they belong to the State or to rich private individuals. The workmen live in large barracks away from the town, to which they return only at stated intervals, and even their wives and relatives are not permitted to visit them in their places of exile.

The enormous population of the valley of the Po, which almost equals that of the remainder of continental Italy, is very unequally distributed; but, except in the high and cold Alpine valleys, the inhabitants live in towns, dozens of which may be seen peeping out amidst the verdure if we ascend a high tower. There are scarcely any villages or hamlets. The farmers alone live in the country, completely isolated from each other, whilst the numerous landed proprietors throng the towns, and impart to them an aspect of wealth which similar places in other parts of Europe cannot boast of. No other country in the world is as densely populated, and in Lombardy the number of towns is relatively larger than anywhere else.70

Large towns, too, are numerous, and many of them enjoy a deserved reputation amongst the cities of the world on account of their monuments, art treasures, and historical associations. Their number is partly accounted for by the density of the population, and by the facility with which the inhabitants were able to shift their abodes, according to the hazards of war or the vicissitudes of events. And this accounts, too, for the large number of towns which became famous as the capitals of republics, or as royal and ducal residences.

Several of the towns at the base of the Alps occupy sites marked out for them by nature. Such are the towns at the mouth of the valleys or defiles, which were places of defence as well as staples of commerce. Ariminum, the modern Rimini, at the southern extremity of the great plain of the Po, was one of these, for during the reign of the Roman it defended the narrow littoral passage between the Adriatic and the Apennines. The Flaminian Road there reached the sea, the Emilian Road thence departed for the north-west, as did also the littoral road of Ravenna. When Rome had ceased to be the capital of the world, and Italy was divided into small hostile states, the towns in the southern part of the plain, or near the passes over the Po, such as Ferrara and Bologna, retained their strategical importance. Piacenza, which defends the passage of the Po between Piemont and Emilia, remains a first-rate fortress to the present day; Alessandria, near the confluence of Tanaro and Bormida, and in a plain famous for many a bloody battle, was likewise destined to become a formidable fortress, though derisively called a “city of straw.” Every valley debouching from France or Austria was locked at its mouth by a strong fort; but most of these places, such as Vinadio, Pinerolo, Fenestrella, and Susa, have become untenable, owing to the range of modern artillery.

The defences of the road over the Brenner, ever since the downfall of the Roman empire, had to be looked to most carefully, for the plain between the Mincio and the Adige, to the south of the Lake of Garda, is the least-protected part of Italy from a military point of view. History has proved this. Well might the peaceable inhabitants of the plain consecrate this Alpine road to the gods, and intrust its defence to the neighbouring tribes. But the northern barbarians were not to be stopped by altars; and many a time they swept down it like an avalanche, pillaging the towns and massacring the inhabitants. No spot on the earth’s surface has been so frequently saturated with human blood. Most of the battles for the possession of Italy, down to our own days, were fought near the mouth of the upper valley of the Adige. Hardly a town or a village of this small district but has gained a mournful notoriety in the dark pages of human history. It is there we must seek for the battle-fields of Castiglione, Lonato, Rivoli, Solferino, and Custozza. When the Austrians held Lombardy and Venice, they took care to protect this district by the four fortresses known as the Quadrilateral (Verona, Peschiera, Mantua, and Legnago) and other works. These constituted the “key of the house,” of which Italy has now repossessed herself.

The configuration of the country which rendered these defiles of the Alps of importance strategically, likewise insured their commercial importance. The fortresses were placed there to defend the passes, the commercial entrepôts to intercept the trade. The rank of these places of commerce depends essentially upon the number and the importance of the roads which converge upon them. Turin, upon which converge all the Alpine roads from Mont Blanc to the Apennines, naturally became one of the vital points of European commerce. Milan, to which lead the seven great Alpine routes of the Simplon, the Gotthard, the Bernardino, the Splügen, the Julier, the Maloya, and the Stelvio, was marked out by nature as a commercial emporium. Bologna, too, which was separated by the swamps of the Po from the Alpine passes, has risen into importance since railways have joined it to Vienna, Paris, Marseilles, and Naples.

The valley of the Po would never have attained its importance in the history of Europe unless roads had been constructed for traversing the obstructive mountains which surround it on all sides except towards the east, where it opens out upon the Adriatic. No other district of Europe is so completely hemmed in by natural obstacles as is this, but the construction of carriage roads and railways has converted Northern Italy into one of the great centres of European commerce. Venice gives it the command of the Adriatic, the Apennine railways connect it with Genoa, Savona, the Gulf of Spezia, and the Tyrrhenian, and it thus commands the two seas which wash the shores of Italy. Other railways cross the Alps, and put it into communication with France and Germany. This central position, joined to the natural fertility of the country, has converted Northern Italy into one of the most flourishing portions of Europe. Human hands have conquered original geographical disadvantages, and the true centre of Italy is in the ancient Cisalpine Gaul, and not at Rome. Had the Italians been guided in the choice of their capital by actual importance, and not by historical tradition, they would have chosen one of the great cities of their northern plain.

Turin, though an old town, seeing that it was burnt by Hannibal, is nevertheless a modern city, if we compare it with other towns of Italy. Its straight and broad streets almost give it the appearance of a town of the New World. Until made a ducal residence, Turin was but a small provincial town. During the time of the Romans, and even during the Middle Ages, the great high-road between Italy and Gaul led along the coast of the Gulf of Genoa. The passage of the Alps was looked upon with dread by travellers. Still some traffic went on even in these early days, and small towns sprang into existence at the foot of each Alpine pass. Amongst these were Mondovi, the triple town built on three hills; Cuneo, favourably placed upon a terrace between Stura and Gesso, in which rise the hot sulphur springs of Valdiera; Saluzzo, on the gentle slope of the foot-hills of Monte Viso; Pinerolo, with its ancient castle, so often converted into a prison of state; Susa, the Italian key of Mont Cenis; Aosta, still abounding in Roman antiquities; Ivrea, built on a site formerly occupied by a glacier descending from Monte Rosa; and Riella, with its flourishing woollen industry. The towns lower down in the plain, upon which several of these Alpine roads converged, likewise attained some local importance. In Upper Piemont there are Fossano, on a heap of shingle at the junction of the roads of Mondovi and Cuneo; Savigliano, lower down, where the roads of the Po and Maira valleys join; and Carmagnola, which commands one of the principal roads over the Apennines. Novara, the commercial outlet of the Lago Maggiore, and in the midst of one of the most productive agricultural districts, is the most populous town of Eastern Piemont. Vercelli, on the Sesia, and below the confluence of the rivulets descending from Monte Rosa, enjoys natural advantages similar to those of Novara. Casale, the ancient capital of Monferrato, defends one of the principal passages of the Po.

But Turin, owing to its favourable position, has become the great emporium of the valley of the Upper Po. Its commerce has grown immensely, since the town no longer enjoys the perilous honour of being the capital of a kingdom, and the places vacated by the court and Government officials have been filled up quickly by immigrants carried thither by the railways. Its libraries, a fine museum, and various learned societies entitle it to rank as one of the intellectual centres of the peninsula, whilst its manufactures of silks and woollens, of paper and other articles, are of great importance. The environs of Turin are delightful. From the hill of the Superga, a few miles to the east of the city, and crowned by a sumptuous church, may be enjoyed one of the finest panoramas of the Italian Alps. The numerous small towns in its vicinity, such as Moncalieri, Chieri, and Carignano, abound in villas and participate in the prosperity of the capital. As to the towns in the valley of the Tanaro, in the south, they form a group apart, and are the natural intermediaries between the valley of the Po and the port of Genoa. Alessandria, a strong fortress of hideous regularity, which has superseded the old fortresses of Tortona and Novi, is the terminus of eight railways, and one of the busiest places of Italy. The neighbouring cities of Asti, famous for its sparkling wines, and Acqui, celebrated from the time of the Romans for its hot springs, are likewise important for their commerce.71

Milan, the capital of Lombardy, is in every respect one of the leading cities of Italy. In population it is inferior to Naples, in commerce it is outstripped only by Genoa, but in industry it is the equal of both. Its scientific and literary life entitles it, probably, to the first rank amongst the cities between the Alps and Sicily. In the most remote times Milan was an important town of the Celts, and since then the advantages of its position have given it the preponderance amongst all other cities of Northern Italy. Its power during the Middle Ages gained it the epithet of the “Second Rome.” At the close of the thirteenth century it had 200,000 inhabitants, whilst London had not then a sixth of that number. Milan stood in want of water, for it was dependent upon the feeble stream of the Olona, and its citizens created the Naviglio Grande and the Martesana, veritable rivers, which furnish a quantity of water double that of the Seine at Paris during summer. They likewise erected magnificent monuments, but most of these have perished during innumerable wars, and the aspect of Milan is now that of a modern town of Western Europe. Its most famous building, the “Duomo,” with its prodigious crowd of statues, its finely chiselled marbles and granites, must be looked upon as a marvel of architecture, though from an artistic point of view it is hardly more than an elaborately carved trinket out of all proportion. The stones for this edifice were quarried on the Lago Maggiore, near the mouth of the Toce.

The capital of Lombardy, proud of the past and confident of the future, boasts of never yielding servilely to impulses given from beyond. It has its own opinions, manners, and fashions, and anything accepted from abroad is moulded in accordance with local traditions. The other towns of Lombardy likewise maintain their local character, are proud of their traditions, and glory in the annals of the past. Como, on the beautiful lake named after it, the ancient rival of Milan, gains wealth by spinning silk and exporting the agricultural produce of the Brianza. Monza, surrounded by parks and villas, is the coronation city. Pavia, with its 525 towers, now in ruins, remembers the time when it was the residence of the Lombard kings, and proudly points to the university, one of the oldest in Europe, and to the Certosa (Chartreuse), one of the most sumptuous monasteries of Italy. Vigevano, on the other side of the Ticino, rejoices in a fine castle. Lodi, in the eleventh century, was the most powerful city of Italy next to Milan, and carried on a war of extermination with the latter; it is still a busy place. Cremona, an old republic, boasts of its torrazzo, or tower, 393 feet in height, the loftiest in Europe until Gothic cathedrals were built. Bergamo, on a hill commanding the rich plains of Brembo and Serio, produced a larger number of great men than any other town except Florence; and Brescia, the armourers’ town, more haughty still, proclaims herself to be the mother of heroes.

Mantua, on the Mincio, is one of the fortresses of the Quadrilateral, and can hardly be said to belong to Lombardy, though included within its political boundaries. It is essentially a military town. It has lost much of its old commerce, though Jews are more plentiful there than in any other inland city of Italy. Its swamps, woods, rice-fields, ditches, and fortified canals are productive of a degree of humidity exceptional even in Lombardy, and the inhabitants consequently eschew this ancient birthplace of Virgil. Strikingly different is the character of the towns situated in the heart of the mountains, such as Sondrio, the capital of the Val Tellina, or delightful Salo, on the Lake of Garda, with its group of villas scattered amongst groves of orange-trees.72

The physiognomy of the large towns of Emilia, beyond the Po, offers far fewer peculiarities, for, as most of them are situated along the great Emilian highway, they have been exposed for ages to the levelling influences of travelling merchants and soldiers. Piacenza, a sorry place as a fortress, carries on an important commerce. Parma, an old ducal residence, has a rich library, a museum, and wonderful frescoes by Correggio in its churches. Reggio, another important station on the Emilian highway, is famous as the birthplace of Ariosto. Modena has its museum, and the precious collection of books and manuscripts known as the Biblioteca Estense. Bologna the “Learned,” which has taken the word “Libertas” for its motto, still remains one of the most interesting of Italian cities. There are its Etruscan cemetery, its palaces and mediæval buildings, and its two leaning towers, which will most certainly come down in the end. Bologna is one of the great railway centres, carries on much commerce, and increases rapidly in population. It would have made a far better capital than Rome. Of late years the environs of the city have been frequently flooded by the Reno, and these disasters have cost Bologna its ancient epithet of “the Fat.”

Near this bustling place there are others, now stagnant, which can point only to buildings in proof that they, too, were once flourishing. Ferrara, the ancient capital of the Estes, has fallen from its high estate since the Po has deserted it, but still remains a place of some importance. Ravenna has not been deserted by the Po, but by the sea, with which it communicates now by a canal seven miles in length, and navigable for ships drawing thirteen feet of water. The town became the capital of Honorius and Theoderic the Goth, on account of the protection offered by the surrounding marshes. To the exarchs it is indebted for its curious Byzantine edifices, so rich in mosaics. As to the ancient Etruscan city of Adria, on Venetian soil, to the north of the Po, it could hardly have claimed at any period during the last two thousand years to give a name to the neighbouring sea. It lies now at a distance of fourteen miles from it, and even in the time of the Romans it must have been surrounded by lagoons or swamps, for how else can we explain its epithet of “Town of the Seven Seas?” Porto, at the foot of the Euganean Hills, may owe its name to an ancient lake or river.

Towns famous on account of their history, and still populous, are most crowded together in the southern angle of the plain, usually known as the Romagna. The towers and crenellated walls of Imola rise there on the banks of the Santerno. Lugo, the “town of the beautiful Romagnese,” occupies the centre of the district of Ravenna, and has much trade. Faenza, on the Emilian Road, is a large village rather than a town, though it has given its name to a particular kind of porcelain (faience). Forli is, next to Bologna, the most populous city of Romagna. Cesena is known for the excellence of the hemp grown in the neighbourhood. Rimini, where the Emilian Road reaches the sea, still has a few Roman ruins, including a triumphal arch. The inhabitants of the Romagna are distinguished by great energy. Their passions are violent, and as frequently lead them into crime as to deeds of heroism.73

In Venetia there are several provincial towns of importance. Padua abounds in monuments of art, possesses a university, and was formerly the rival of Venice. Vicenza is embellished by the palaces erected by Palladio. Treviso and Belluno are towns of some importance, the one on the Sile, the other in the upper valley of the Piave. At Udine is pointed out a mound of earth said to have been thrown up by Attila, from which he contemplated the conflagration of Aquileja. Palmanova, on the Austrian frontier, is a regularly built fortress. Verona, at the other extremity of Venetia, has played an important part in the history of Italy, but its commerce and industry have fallen into decay. It hardly fills up the space enclosed by walls and bastions, and its present population is quite out of proportion to the multitude of its public buildings dating from the Middle Ages, and the dimensions of its Roman amphitheatre, capable of seating 50,000 spectators. Amongst all the cities of Venetia it is Venice itself, the “Queen of the Adriatic,” which has suffered least in the course of ages.

Venice is a very ancient city. The remains of Roman buildings discovered on the island of San Giorgia, far below the present level of the sea, and therefore referred to in proof of the slow subsidence of the Venetian coast, prove to us that the mud islands of the gulf supported a population long before the invasion of the Barbarians. These half-drowned lands may have attracted the coast population at an early age, for they afforded security against attack, and offered great advantages for carrying on commerce. Nevertheless, the Venice of our time only dates from the commencement of the ninth century, when the government of this maritime republic was established upon the islands separated from the sea by the lidi, and from the mainland by estuaries and swamps. This unique position rendered Venice almost impregnable; and whilst the rest of Europe was being desolated by war, Venice sent forth its commercial and warlike expeditions to every part of the Mediterranean, established factories, and built fortresses. Not without arduous struggles, it became the most powerful and wealthiest of the commercial republics of Italy. It was largely indebted for this success to its favourable geographical position, almost in the centre of the mediæval world. Its commerce brought the Venetians into contact with nearly every nation, and they had no prejudices against foreigners. The Armenians were admitted to their city, and an alliance was made even with the Turks. At the time of the Crusades the Venetian Republic occupied the foremost position amongst the states of Europe, and its ambassadors enjoyed a vast amount of influence. This influence was sustained by enormous material forces. Venice had a navy of 300 vessels, manned by 36,000 sailors, and the riches of the world, whether obtained by legitimate commerce or by violence, were accumulated in its 2,000 palaces and 200 churches. Even one of the islets upon which the city is built would have purchased a kingdom of Asia or Africa. One of the most sumptuous cities of the West had arisen upon banks of mud, inhabited formerly only by poor fishermen. The larch forests of Dalmatia had been cut down, and converted into piles upon which to build palaces. More than 400 bridges of marble joined island to island, and superb embankments of granite defended this marvellous city against the encroachments of the sea. Great achievements in the arts contributed their share in making Venezia la Bella a city without its equal.

But geographical discoveries, in which Venice itself took a leading share, undermined the power of the Italian Republic. When Africa had been circumnavigated and the New World discovered, the Mediterranean ceased to be the great commercial sea of the world. Venice was doomed to die. It no longer monopolized the road to India, and the increasing power of the Turks crippled its Eastern trade. Still, so great were its resources, that it maintained its independence for more than three hundred years after it had lost its factories, and only fell when shamefully deserted by General Bonaparte, its supposed ally.

The decadence of Venice was most remarkable during the dominion of Austria. In 1840 the city had less than 100,000 inhabitants, hundreds of its palaces were in ruins, the grass grew in its squares, and seaweeds encumbered its landing-places. Since that time it has been gradually recovering. A bridge of 222 arches and 2,000 feet in length connects it with the mainland, and its commerce, though not equal to that of Trieste, is nevertheless of considerable importance.74 The manufacture of looking-glasses, lace, and other articles has imparted fresh life to Venice, and there, as well as in other towns of the lagoons (Malamocco, Burano, Murano, and Chioggia), thousands of workmen are busy in the production of those gay-looking glass beads which find their way into every part of the world, and which in certain countries of the East and in Central Africa take the place of coin. But Venice, though less populous and active than of yore, still rejoices in its delightful climate and its bright skies. Its gaiety and fêtes are not yet things of the past, and its palaces, built in a style half Italian, half Moorish, still contain the priceless masterpieces of Titian, Tintoretto, and Paul Veronese.75

III — Liguria and the Riviera of Genoa*

Liguria is but a narrow slip of land if we compare it with the broad plain of the Po, but it is one of the most clearly defined districts of Europe, and its inhabitants have retained many original traits. The contrast between the Podane plains and the littoral region beyond the barren Apennines is striking, but if we travel in the direction of Provence or of Tuscany the landscape changes only by degrees. The rampart of the Apennines surrounds the whole of the Gulf of Genoa, and there is not a single break in it. These mountains are very different in character from the Alps, though joined to them as the branch of a tree is united to its trunk. It is not possible to tell where one chain ends and the other begins. If the main direction of the mountain is to be the criterion, the Ligurian Apennines may be said to begin at the frontier of France, near the sources of the Tinea and Vesubio; but if great height, pastures, and perennial snow are considered sufficient to constitute an Alpine region, then the Apennines only begin to the east of the Col di Tenda, for the fine summits of the Clapier, Fenêtre, and Gordalesque, to the west of that pass, attain a height of 10,000 feet. They are quite Alpine in their character, and may boast even of small glaciers, the most southerly in the mountains of Central Europe. Geologists usually draw the line where cretaceous and tertiary rocks take the place of the crystalline rocks of the Alps. But this, too, is only a conventional division, for these crystalline rocks, which constitute the crest of the Alps in the west, extend far to the east, and occasionally they break through the sedimentary formations which overlie them, and rise into summits similar to those of the Alps. Thus the granitic summits of the mountains of Spezia remind us of the mountain mass near the Col di Tenda.

The chain of the Ligurian Apennines is by no means of uniform height, but, like that of the Alps, it consists of mountain masses separated by passes. The lowest of these passes is that to the west of Savona, named indifferently after one of the neighbouring villages, Altare, Carcara, or Cadibona. This pass is hardly more than 1,600 feet in height, and is popularly looked upon as constituting the boundary between the Alps and Apennines. The possession of this pass during war has always been considered of great importance, for it commands the approaches to Genoa and the upper valleys of Piemont, and the Tanaro and Bormido, which rise near it, have often run with blood.

The Apennines to the east of this pass have an average height of 3,300 feet, and beyond the Pass of Giovi (1,538 feet), through which the road leads from Genoa to the northern plains, many summits attain a height of 4,500 feet. Several spurs, abounding in ravines, extend here to the north. The main chain, at the same time, retires from the coast, and the Pass of Pontremoli, which separates the Ligurian from the Tuscan Apennines, and through which leads the road from Parma to Spezia, is no less than thirty miles from the sea. In this eastern portion of the Genoese Apennines a spur detaches itself from the main chain, and terminates in the fine promontory of Porto Venere, a magnificent rock of black marble, surmounted formerly by a temple of Venus. This spur, which protects the Gulf of Spezia against westerly winds, has at all times constituted an obstacle to the intercourse between neighbouring peoples, not so much on account of its height, but because of its steepness. In some places the crest of the Apennines is hardly more than four miles from the sea. The slope, in such places, is exceedingly steep, and roads can ascend it only in numerous windings.77

The small width of the maritime slope of the Ligurian Apennines accounts for the absence of perennial rivers. The most considerable streams to the east of the Roya, which runs for the greater part through French territory, such as the Taggia or the Centa, only assume the appearance of rivers when the snows melt, or after heavy rains. Ordinarily they are but small streams, closed at the mouth by bars of pebbles. Between Albenga and Spezia, for a distance of 160 miles, there are only torrents, and in order to meet again with a real river we must go beyond the Gulf of Spezia. This river is the Magra, which separates Liguria from Etruria, and which, up to the epoch of Augustus, formed the boundary of Italy. Its alluvium has converted an ancient bay of the sea into a lake, and formed a beach, 1,300 yards in width, in front of the ancient Tyrrhenian city of Luni, which formerly stood on the seashore.

The want of great rivers in Liguria is compensated for to some extent by subterranean water-courses. Several springs rise from the bottom of the sea, at some distance from the shore. The springs of La Polla, in the Gulf of Spezia, are amongst the most bountiful amongst them. They have been isolated by the Italian Government from the surrounding salt water, and their water is supplied to ships.

Owing to the absence of rivers, the sterility of the soil, and the steep escarpments, this portion of the Mediterranean coast region contrasts strikingly with other parts of temperate Europe. Having reached the summit of the mountains beyond the magnificent chestnut forests at the head-streams of the Ellero, the Tanaro, and the Bormida, we look down upon a scene almost African in its character. Scarcely a blade of grass is to be seen between Nice and Spezia, and only the grass-plots, kept up at great expense in some pleasure-gardens, remind us that Piemont and Lombardy are near at hand. Pines and brambles would have remained the only verdure in these Ligurian valleys and ravines if it were not for the transformation wrought by gardeners and agriculturists. Strange to say, trees do not ascend to the same height on the slopes of the Apennines as in the Alps, though the mean temperature is far higher, and at an altitude at which the beech still attains noble proportions in Switzerland we find it here stunted in growth. Larches are hardly ever seen.

The sea is as sterile as the land. There are neither shallows, islands, nor seaweeds affording shelter to fish. The cliffs descend precipitously into the sea, and the narrow strips of beach, extending from promontory to promontory, consist only of sand without the admixture of a single shell. The Genoese fishermen, therefore, resort to distant coasts, those of the “Ponente,” or west, going to Sicily, whilst those of Camogli, on the Riviera di Levanto, visit the coasts of Tuscany. This sterility of land and sea accounts for the large number of Genoese met with in other parts of the world.

But though an unfruitful country, Liguria is exceedingly picturesque. A traveller availing himself of the railway between Nice and Genoa, which follows the sinuosities of the coast and pierces the promontories in numerous tunnels, is brought within reach of the most varied scenery. At one time the line runs close to the beach, with the foam of the sea almost touching the track on the one side, while tamarisks bearing pink blossoms overshadow it from the other. Elsewhere we creep up the steep slope, and obtain a view of the cultivated terraces raised at immense labour by the peasantry, whilst the bluish sea is seen afar to the right, almost hidden by a grove of olive-trees, and stretching away until lost in the direction of Corsica. Towns, villages, old towers, villas, ship-yards, and other industrial establishments impart an almost infinite variety to the scenery. One town occupies the top of a hill, and, seen from below, its old walls and towers stand out boldly against the sky; another is built amphitheatrically, close to the strand upon which the fishermen have drawn their boats; a third is hidden in a hollow, and surrounded by vines, olive, orange, and lemon trees. A date-tree here and there imparts an oriental aspect to the landscape. Bordighera, a small place close to the French frontier, is quite surrounded by palm-trees, whose fruit, however, but rarely ripens.

The climate of Albenga, Loana, and some other places on the Genoese coast is far from salubrious, on account of the miasmata exhaled by sheets of stagnant water left behind by freshets. Even Genoa cannot boast of an agreeable climate, not because there are marshes near it, but because the southerly winds charged with moisture are caught there by the semicircle of mountains, and are made to discharge their superabundant humidity. The number of rainy days at Genoa averages 121 a year. There are, however, several towns along this coast protected by the mountains against the north, and yet out of the usual track of the moisture-laden southerly winds, whose climate is exceptionally delightful.78 Bordighera and San Remo, near the French frontier, are the rivals of Mentone as regards climate; and Nervi, to the east of Genoa, is likewise a favourite place of resort, on account of its clear sky and pure atmosphere. Villas and castles rise on every promontory and in every valley of these favoured districts. For a dozen miles on either side of Genoa the coast is lined by villas. The population of the city has overflowed the walls which once confined it, and is establishing itself in populous suburbs. The long street which winds between factories and gardens, scales promontories, and descends into valleys, will continue to grow in length until it extends along the whole coast of Liguria, for the charms of the country attract men of leisure from every quarter of Europe.

The historical development of the ancient Ligurians, who were probably of Iberian race, was largely influenced by the nature of the country they inhabited. The cultivable land being only of small extent, the superabundant population was forced to look to the sea for a livelihood, and engaged in navigation and commerce. Antium, the modern Genoa, was an “emporium” of the Ligurians ever since the time of the Romans, and its vessels frequented every corner of the Tyrrhenian Sea. In the Middle Ages the Genoese flag was carried into every part of the known world, and it was Genoa that gave birth to Christopher Columbus, whose name is inscribed upon the first page of modern history as the discoverer of America. It was a Genoese, too, Giovanni Gabotto, or Cabot, who afresh discovered the coast of North America five centuries after its original discovery by the Normans. The hardy mariners of Genoa have thus navigated the seas from the most remote times. Even now they almost monopolize the navigation of the great rivers of the Argentine Republic. The Genoese likewise enjoy a high reputation as gardeners, and are met with in every large town of the Mediterranean.

As long as the Apennines were not crossed by practicable carriage roads, Genoa possessed no advantages whatever over the other ports of Liguria, but ever since it has been placed in easy communication with the fertile plains of Lombardy and Piemont, the great advantages of its geographical position have told upon its development. Pisa was the only republic on the western coast of Italy which contested this superiority of Genoa, but was defeated after a sanguinary struggle. The Genoese possessed themselves of Corsica, the inhabitants of which were treated most cruelly; they took Minorca from the Moors, and even captured several towns in Spain, which they restored only after important commercial privileges had been granted them. In the Ægean Sea the nobles of Genoa became the proprietors of Chios, Lesbos, Lemnos, and other islands. At Constantinople the Genoese merchants were as powerful almost as the Emperor. Kaffa, in the Crimea, was one of their wealthy colonies. Their factories and towers were met along every commercial high-road in Asia Minor, and even in the recesses of the Caucasus. The possession of the Black Sea gave them the command of the trade with Central Asia. These distant colonies explain the use of a few Arab, Turkish, and Greek terms by the Genoese, and though the dialect spoken by them is decidedly Italian, the intonation is French.

Nevertheless Genoa, though more powerful than Pisa, failed in wresting the command of the sea from the Venetians, who enjoyed immense advantages through their connection with Germany. Her political influence has never equalled that of Venice, nor has she produced as many men eminent in literature and art as has her Adriatic rival. The Genoese had the reputation in former times of being violent and false, fond of luxury and power, and indifferent to everything which did not enrich them. “A sea without fish, mountains without forests, men without faith, women without modesty—thus is Genoa,” was a proverb ever in the mouth of the enemies of the Ligurian city. The dissensions amongst the noble families of Genoa were incessant, but the Bank of St. George never allowed civil strife to interfere with business. Wealth flowed into the city without any cessation, and enabled its citizens to construct those palaces, marble arcades, and hanging gardens which have won for it the epithet of la Superba. In the end, however, ruin overtook the Bank, and that justly, for it had supplied princes with money to enable them to wage war, and its bankruptcy in the middle of the eighteenth century rendered Genoa politically impotent.

The capital of Liguria, in spite of its small extent, its sinuous streets, its ramparts, stairs, and dirty narrow quays, may justly boast of palaces equally remarkable for the splendour and originality of their architecture. Many of these magnificent buildings appeared to be doomed to ruin during the decay of the town, but, on the return of more prosperous times, the citizens again devoted themselves to the embellishment of their city. Genoa is the busiest port of Italy.79 Its shipowners possess nearly half the Italian mercantile marine, and three-fourths of the vessels annually built in Italy are furnished from its ship-yards. The harbour, though 320 acres in extent, no longer suffices for the hundreds of sailing vessels and steamers which crowd into it. Nor is it sufficiently sheltered against the winds, and it has therefore been proposed to construct a vast breakwater far beyond its present limits. Genoa fancies that its interests are not sufficiently attended to by the Central Government. A second railway across the Apennines is urgently demanded, in order to manage the traffic that will be created by the opening of the direct railway through Switzerland, which will place Genoa in direct communication with Western Germany.

In the meantime Genoa is expanding in all directions. Its factories of macaroni, paper, silks and velvets, soap, oil, jewellery, metal-work, pottery, ornamental flowers, and other objects are ever increasing; and ovrar del Genoes—Genoese industry—is a marvel now, as it was in the Middle Ages. San Pier d’Arena (Sampierdarena), to the west, has become a veritable manufacturing town. Cornigliano, Rivarolo, Sestri di Ponente with its large ship-yards, Pegli, and Voltri are populous towns, having spinning-mills and foundries. Savona, whose port was filled up by the jealous Genoese, occupies the bottom of a vast bay. It has glass-works and potteries, and is connected by a railway with Turin. Elsewhere on the Riviera di Ponente the towns are crowded closely together. Such is the case with the twin cities of Oneglia and Porto Maurizio, the one built on the beach, the other on a steep hill close by, and known as the “Fountains of Oil,” because of their extensive plantations of olives. At San Remo, however, olives are more plentiful still.80

On the Riviera di Levante town joins town like pearls in a necklace. Albaro, with its charming mansion, Quarto, whence departed the expedition which took Sicily from the Bourbons, and Nervi, a health resort for persons suffering from pulmonary diseases, constitute a long-stretching suburb of Genoa, extending in the direction of Recco and Camogli, two towns abounding in shipping. The rocky promontory of Porto Fino, thus named after the dolphins which formerly frequented it, imposes an insurmountable obstacle to the further extension of Genoa in this direction. Having traversed the tunnel leading through this promontory, we reach another group of towns, viz. Rapallo, the industrious; Chiavari, a great place of trade; Lavagna, with its famous quarries of grey slates; and Sestri di Levante, a town of fishermen.

The coast beyond Sestri is but sparsely inhabited, for there bold cliffs approach the sea; but having doubled the superb cape of Porto Venere, we enter the fine Gulf of Spezia,81 with its numerous forts, ship-yards, arsenals, and other buildings. The Italian Government has been busy ever since 1861 in converting this gulf into a first-rate naval arsenal, but no sooner has a portion of the work been completed than the progress made in the arts of destruction compels the engineers to remodel it—a very costly task. Whatever future may be in store for Spezia as a military port, it has none as a commercial one, for though it affords excellent shelter to vessels, no railway connects it with the fertile countries beyond the Apennines, and its exports are limited to the produce of the valleys in its immediate vicinity. Spezia is indebted for its high rank amongst the cities of Italy to its beautiful gulf, the rival of the Bay of Naples and the roadstead of Palermo. From the summit of the marble hill above the decayed town of Porto Venere we look down upon a marvellous succession of bays and promontories, and far in the distance the mountains of Corsica rise indistinctly above the blue waters. Looking to the east, we behold the picturesque towns on the opposite side of the gulf embedded in groves of olive-trees and cypresses, the Apuanic Alps and the Apennines bounding the horizon. Right opposite is the charming town of Lerici, and to the south of it the shore upon which Byron reduced to ashes the body of his friend Shelley: no spot more appropriate for this mournful holocaust.

IV — Tuscany

Tuscany, like Liguria, lies on the southern slope of the Apennines, but is of far greater width, for that back-bone of Italy retreats there from the Gulf of Genoa, and stretches right across the broadest part of the peninsula to the Adriatic. Besides this there are several detached plateaux and mountain ranges to the south of the valley of the Arno.82

The Apennines of Tuscany are of very unequal height, and they are traversed by numerous low passes, which could easily be converted into carriage roads. Speaking generally, they consist of a series of elongated and parallel mountain masses, separated from each other by valleys, through which flow the head-streams of the Serchio and the Arno. The first important mountain mass of the main chain near the frontiers of Liguria, which is commanded by the Orsajo and Succiso, is thus separated by the valley of the Magra from the parallel range of Lumigiana. The chain of Garfognana, to the north of the plains of Lucca, has for its pendant the Alps of Apuana. Monte Cimone, farther east, and the other summits of the Alpe Apennina to the north of Pistoja and Prato, are attended by the parallel ridges of the Monti Catini and Monte Albano, on whose slope is the famous grotto of Monsummano, with a thermal spring. A fourth mountain mass, that which the direct road from Florence to Bologna crosses in the Pass of Futa, has likewise its lateral chains, viz. the Monte Mugello, to the south of the Sieve; the Prato Magno, encircled by the Upper Arno; and the Alps of Catenaja, between the Arno and the Tiber.83

The Apennines of Tuscany in many places attain a height of 5,000 feet, and are quite Alpine in their aspect, the upper slopes remaining covered with snow for more than half the year. They owe much of their grandeur to the precipitous slopes and fantastic profiles of the calcareous rocks which enter so largely into their composition. The forests of chestnuts, firs, and beeches which formerly clothed the whole of the range have not yet been entirely destroyed. The beautiful woods which cover the slopes of Prato Magno have impressed the mind of many a poet; and, since Milton sang the delights of Vallombrosa, the “shaded vale” has become a proverbial name for everything sweet and touching in the poetry of nature. Farther to the west the monastery of the Campo di Maldulo (Camaldoli) occupies one of the most beauteous spots in all Italy, the woods and meadows of which have been celebrated by Ariosto. From the summit above the convent both the “Tuscan and the Slavonian Sea” can be seen, as that poet tells us.

The barren escarpments and forests of the Apennines form a charming contrast to the valleys and rounded hills of Lower Tuscany, where nearly every height is surmounted by the ruins of a mediæval castle; graceful villas are scattered over the verdant slopes, farmhouses stand in the midst of vineyards and pointed cypresses, and every cultivable spot is made to yield a rich harvest. Historical associations, the taste of its inhabitants, the fertility of the soil, an abundance of running water, and the sweetness of the climate all combine in making Central Tuscany one of the most privileged regions of Italy. Protected by the rampart of the Apennines against cold northerly winds, this region faces the Tyrrhenian Sea, whence blow warm and humid winds of tropical origin. The rains they bring are not excessive, thanks to the screen formed by the mountains of Corsica and Sardinia, and the happy disposition of the detached hills near the coast. The climate of Tuscany is essentially temperate, and to its equability, no less than to the natural beauty of their abode, the Tuscans owe, no doubt, much of their gaiety, their good-nature, fine taste, poetical feeling, and facile imagination.

The valley of the Arno completely separates the hills of Southern Tuscany, usually known as the “Sub-Apennines,” from the principal chain of the mountains. This valley, with its defiles and ancient lake basins, may be likened to a moat bounding the wall of the Apennines. The vale of Chiana, originally an arm of the sea, and then a lake, forms the uppermost portion of the zone which separates the Apennines from the hills of Southern Tuscany. Then follows the Campagna of Florence, an ancient lake basin, which it would be easy to flood again by building a dam across the defile of the Golfolina, through which the river makes its escape, and which was rent asunder by the “Egyptian Hercules.” Castruccio, the famous commander of the Luccans, actually proposed to flood the plains of Florence in the fourteenth century by constructing a dam across this defile; but happily his engineers pronounced the scheme to be impracticable, for they supposed the difference of level to amount to 288 feet, whilst in reality it is only fifty.

The Sub-Apennine hills to the south of the Arno are of rounded contours, of a gloomy grey colour, and devoid of all verdure. Whilst the Apennines consist exclusively of Jurassic and cretaceous rocks, the Sub-Apennines are of tertiary formation, their sandstones, clays, marls, and pudding-stones being pierced here and there by serpentine. Well-defined ranges can hardly be said to exist. Southern Tuscany, indeed, may be described as a table-land intersected by rivers in all directions, surmounted by irregular groups of hills, and pierced by “sinks,” which swallow up some of the rivers. The cavities of the Ingolla form one of these sinks, in which several rivulets lose themselves, to reappear lower down as the source of the Elsa Viva, one of the principal tributaries of the Arno. The most elevated hills of this Sub-Apennine region form the water-parting between the Arno, the Cecina, and the Ombrone, and in the Poggio di Montieri, a mountain abounding in copper, they attain an elevation of 3,323 feet. The Labbro (3,815 feet), Cetona (3,650 feet), and Monte Amiata (5,450 feet), to the south of the Ombrone valley, rise to a greater height, but geologically they belong already to Central Italy. The Cetona is a Jurassic outlier surrounded by recent formations. Monte Amiata, a trachytic cone, is the most elevated volcano of continental Italy. It no longer vomits lava, but numerous hot springs and solfataras prove that the volcanic forces are not yet quite extinct. The Radicofani (2,950 feet) is likewise an extinct volcano, whose lava resembles petrified froth, and can be cut with a hatchet.

Subterranean agencies must indeed be very active in Tuscany, for metalliferous veins ramify in all directions, and the number of mineral springs of every description is larger than in any other part of Italy. Amongst these springs there are several of world-wide reputation, as, for instance, those of Monte Catini, of San Giuliano, and of the Bagni di Lucca. The brine springs of Tuscany are very productive; but the most curious, and at the same time most useful, springs of all are the famous lagoni, in a side valley of the Cecina, and at the northern foot of the Poggio di Montieri. From a distance dense clouds of white vapour are seen rolling over the plain, and the bubbling noise made by gases escaping through the ponds, or lagoni, is heard. These ponds contain various salts, silica, and boracic acid, which is of great value in the manufacture of china and glass, and yields a considerable revenue to Tuscany. Nowhere else in Europe, except, perhaps, in the crater of the Eolian Vulcano, is boracic acid met with in sufficient quantities to repay the labour of extracting it. In Tuscany, however, there are several other localities where it might be won with advantage, as, for instance, near Massa Maritima, to the south of the Montieri.

The subterranean fermentation of which Tuscany is the scene is no doubt due in a large measure to the changes which have taken place in the relative proportions of land and sea. Several isolated hills rise near the coast like islands from the sea, and these have evidently been joined to the mainland by the alluvial deposits brought down by the rivers. The Monti Serra (3,000 feet), to the east of Pisa, between the Arno and the Serchio, are almost insulated even now, for they are surrounded by swamps, and the level of the Lake of Bientina, at their eastern foot, is scarcely thirty feet above that of the Mediterranean. The heights along the coast to the south of Leghorn are not quite so isolated, but the lowland which connects them with the table-land of the interior is only of small elevation. The promontory, however, whose extremities are occupied by the towns of Populonia and Piombino (653 feet), is joined to the mainland only by a low plain of sand. The most perfect type of these ancient islands is presented to us in the superb Monte Argentaro, at the southern extremity of the Tuscan littoral, which rises boldly from the sea to a height of 2,085 feet, and is attached to the mainland by two narrow strips of land covered with pine-trees, enclosing a lake of regular shape: in the midst of it, on a fragment of the ancient beach, is built the town of Orbetello. This lake, which looks almost as if it were the work of a generation of giants, has been converted into an eel-pond, and millions of fish are caught in it every year. Towards the west of this mountain, in the direction of Corsica, lie the islands of Giglio and Monte Cristo (2,062 feet) and the rock of Formica. The island of Elba, farther north, forms a small world of its own.

The rivers of Tuscany have wrought great changes in the plains through which they flow, and along the sea-coast. Their labour has been facilitated by the nature of the soil which they traverse. The least rain converts the barren hill-slopes into a semi-fluid paste, which is carried by the rivers down to the sea. The mouth of the Arno has thus been pushed forward to the extent of seven miles in the course of a few centuries. In former times the Serchio and the Arno united before they flowed into the sea, but the Pisans diverted the former river to the north, in order to rid themselves of its unwelcome deposits. Pisa, in the time of Strabo, stood at a distance of only twenty Olympian stadia from the Tyrrhenian Sea, and when the cascina of San Rossore was built, towards the close of the eleventh century, its walls were close to the beach, which is now at a distance of three miles. Extensive plains intersected by dunes, or tomboli, and partly covered with forests of pines, have been added to the land in the course of centuries. These sandy wastes have become the home of large herds of horses and half-wild cattle, and the camel has been acclimatised there, it is said, since the Crusades. These changes in the coast-line may not, however, be due exclusively to the agency of the rivers, for there exists evidence of an upheaval of the land. The building stone known at Leghorn as panchina is clearly of marine origin, and the shells which enter into its composition are still met with in the Tyrrhenian Sea.

Amongst the changes effected by human agency in the basin of the Arno those referring to the Val di Chiana are, perhaps, the most important. This depression connects the basins of the Arno and Tiber, and may possibly have served as an outlet to the former river before it had opened itself a way through the gorge below Florence. Formerly the water-parting between the two rivers was close to the Arno. A small portion of its drainage was carried to the Tuscan river, but by far the greater portion of the vale was occupied by stagnant pools, extending to the south as far as the latitude of Montepulciano, a distance of twenty miles. The whole of this region was a breeding-place of fever. Dante and other Italian writers speak of it as an accursed place. The inhabitants made vain attempts at drainage. The illustrious Galileo, when consulted on the subject, declared that nothing could be done to mend this evil; and though Torricelli conceived that it would be possible to drain the valley, he took no steps to put his theories into practice.

About the middle of the eighteenth century the work of drainage was at length seriously taken in hand, directed by Fossombroni, the celebrated engineer. “Warps,” or colmate, were thrown up at the outlet of each lateral ravine between which the débris carried down from the flanks of the mountains was deposited. The swamps gradually filled up, and the soil became firm. By constructing a dam (argine) across the vale at the point chosen for the new water-parting, an outfall was created, and a line of stagnant swamps was thus converted into a pure rivulet. The valley, at one time a hotbed of fever, has now become one of the most salubrious districts of Italy. The newly won lands were at once taken possession of by agriculturists, and 500 square miles were thus added to the productive area of Tuscany. Villages, formerly inhabited by fever-stricken wretches, have become wealthy towns, and the success of this bonification, or reclamation, has been thorough. The torrents are under control now, and have already deposited 17,650 million cubic feet of alluvium over an area of 50,000 acres, as if they were intelligent workmen. The same system of drainage has been successfully applied in other parts of Italy, and particularly near Grosseto, on the right bank of the Ombrone.

Amongst the great drainage works which will evermore contribute to the glory of Tuscan engineers, the innumerable canals draining the plains of Fucecchio, Pontedera, Pisa, Lucca, Leghorn, and Viareggio, each of which was formerly occupied by its lake, deserve to be noticed. One of the most difficult of these lakes is that of Bientina, or Sesto, to the east of the Pisan hills, which is supposed to have been formed by an overflow of the Serchio. In former times this lake had two effluents, one running north to the Serchio, the other south to the Arno. The outfall left nothing to be desired in ordinary times, but after heavy rains the two effluents were converted into inflowing rivers, and if the sluices had not been closed, the Arno and the Serchio would have rejoined each other in this inland sea. The Bientina, during such freshets, covered six times its ordinary area, and in order to save the fertile fields of Tuscany it became absolutely necessary to create a third effluent. The engineers conceived the happy idea of conveying this new effluent through a tunnel, passing beneath the Arno, three feet in width, into an ancient bed of that river, now supplanted by the Colombrone.

In most of these enterprises it was necessary to struggle on in spite of the miasmatic atmosphere, which hung more particularly over the littoral zone, where the fresh inland water mingles with the salt water of the Mediterranean. The blending of the two waters destroyed the fresh-water plants and animals, and the deleterious gases arising from their decomposition poisoned the atmosphere. About the middle of last century an engineer, Zendrini, proposed to construct sluices separating the fresh from the salt water. This was done, and the fevers at once disappeared. In 1768, the sluices having been allowed to fall out of repair, the miasmatic scourge immediately reappeared, and it was not until they had been repaired that the sanitary condition of the villages along the coast was improved. Twice since neglect to keep the sluices in a proper condition has been punished with the same results; but from 1821 they have been maintained in thorough order, and the sanitary condition of the country has ever since been most satisfactory. Viareggio, in the centre of this malarial district, was up to 1740 hardly more than a hamlet, avoided on account of its insalubrity, but is now a seaside town, the favourite resort of numbers of visitors.

Much has been done, no doubt, in draining the land, but there is still room for many improvements. The Maremma, a track between Piombino and Orbetello, remains one of the most insalubrious regions of Europe, in spite of what has been done by sanitary engineers. The inhabitants never reach a high age, and though they descend to the plain only when it is absolutely required for cultivating their fields, they frequently carry away with them the germs of disease. In the two summers of 1840 and 1841 no less than 36,000 persons suffered from fever amongst a total population of 80,000 souls, most of whom reside in villages built on hills, and only rarely visit the pestilential plain. In order to escape the pernicious influence of the poisonous air, it is necessary to reside constantly at an elevation of 325 feet above the sea, and even that does not always suffice, for the episcopal city of Sovana is notoriously unhealthy, though built at that height. Fevers occur frequently at a distance from the swamps, and Salvagnoli Marchetti is of opinion that they are due to the nature of the soil. The malaria is said to creep up clayey hills permeated by empyreumatic substances; it likewise poisons the air of districts abounding in saline springs, and still more that near deposits of alum. Southerly winds are likewise most pernicious, and fevers rise highest in the valleys which are exposed to them. Places, on the other hand, which are fully open to the sea breeze are quite free from malaria, even if swamps are near, as at Orbetello and Piombino.

It is generally admitted that the coasts of Etruria did not suffer from malaria whilst the ancient Tyrrhenian cities were prosperous. The excavations made recently in connection with the railways have revealed a complete system of subterranean canals, which formerly drained the whole of the Maremmas. Populonia and other large cities, of which only a few ruins are found now, could certainly not have existed if the climate had been as unhealthy as at present. The ancient Etruscans were famous as hydraulic engineers. They embanked torrents, drained swamps, and rendered the country cultivable, but their engineering works were allowed to decay soon after they had been subjected, and the country returned to its primitive savageness. On the other hand, there are many towns which were considered healthy during the Middle Ages, but are now desolated by fever. Massa Maritima, to the south-west of the Moutieri mountain, was rich and populous as long as it maintained its republican liberties; but no sooner had it been enslaved by Pisans and Sienese than its drainage works were allowed to fall into decay, and in the end it found itself reduced to the “shadow of a town.” Sanitary works carried out recently have brought back some of its ancient prosperity.

Amongst the causes which have contributed most materially towards a deterioration of the climate may be mentioned the destruction of the mountain forests and the rapid increase of alluvial lands resulting from it. The monasteries of Tuscany, which until quite recently were the owners of the fish-ponds in the Maremmas, energetically protested against the construction of embankments or other drainage works, which they conceived would interfere with their cherished Lenten food. Several of the inland towns rejoiced in the possession of some unhealthy swampy tract, to which obnoxious persons might be banished with a certainty of their dying. Even the Kings of Spain established a penal establishment at one of the most deadly spots on this coast, and banishment to Talamone, at one time a flourishing port of the Republic of Siena, was tantamount to a sentence of death.

Many attempts were made to reclaim these lands. Macchiavelli and other statesmen of Tuscany thought that the former salubrity of the climate could be restored by merely repeopling the country. Colonists were sent for from other parts of Italy, and even from Greece and Germany, but they soon succumbed to the climate. Since that time considerable progress has been made in rendering these marshy districts more salubrious. Trees have been planted, and, in combination with proper drainage, they have rendered many districts habitable which were not so formerly. Populonia is a case in point. Follonica, where there are furnaces in which the iron ores of Elba are smelted, is likewise looking up, though its inhabitants still fly the place on the approach of the fever season.

The Etruscans, or Tyrrhenians, were the ancestors of the Tuscans, and long before the dominion of the Romans they were the preponderating race of all Italy. They occupied not only the whole of the southern slope of the Apennines as far as the Tiber, but had also founded a confederation of twelve towns in the Campagna, of which Capua was the head, and as traders and pirates they held possession of the Tyrrhenian Sea, still named after them. The island of Capri was one of their most advanced outposts towards the south. The Adriatic was likewise their own, for Adria, Bologna (called Felsina by them), Ravenna, and Mantua were Etruscan colonies, and the Rhætians in the Alpine valleys were their allies, and perhaps kinsmen. But who were the Etruscans? They have been classed with Aryans, Ugrians, and Semites; with Greeks, Germans, Scythians, Egyptians, and Turks. The Etruscan inscriptions on ancient monuments, though very legible, have not hitherto been deciphered satisfactorily. If Corssen’s interpretation is accepted, their language resembled the Latin tongues; but this philologist, after all, may not be entitled to be called the “Œdipus of the Etruscan sphinx.”

The most common type of the Etruscans, as transmitted to us on cinerary vases, is that of squat men, often inclining to obesity, with broad shoulders, prominent face, curved noses, broad retreating forehead, dark complexion, dolichocephalous skull, and curly hair. This type is neither Hellenic nor Italian. Amongst their monuments there are none of those curious structures known as nuraghi, which abound in Malta, Sardinia, and Pantellaria, but dolmens are numerous. The sepulchral monuments, of which many thousands have already been brought to light, prove that the arts had attained a high degree of development in ancient Etruria. The paintings in the interior of the vaults, the bas-reliefs on the sarcophagi, the vases, candelabra, pottery, and bronzes, resemble similar work produced by the genius of Greek artists. The arrangement of their dwelling-houses, though not devoid of originality, proves the intimate connection existing between the civilisations of the Etruscans and early Greeks. It was the Etruscans who initiated Rome into the arts. The Cloaca Maxima, the most ancient monument of the Eternal City, the wall named after Servius Tullius, the Mamertine prison, and, in fact, all the remains of the Rome of the kings, were their work. It was they who erected the temples, supplied the statues to deities, built the dwelling-houses, and furnished them with articles of ornament. Even the she-wolf of bronze, now in the Capitoline Museum, and a symbol of the Roman people, appears to be of Etruscan workmanship.

The Tuscans of our day differ, however, in many respects from their Etruscan ancestors. These latter, to judge from the paintings in their sepulchral cities, were an austere race. They appear, likewise, to have been a nation of cooks and gluttons. Neither of these qualities can be laid to the charge of their descendants. The modern Tuscan is of an amiable and kindly disposition, he is possessed of wit and artistic tastes, easy to move, and altogether perhaps a trifle too pliant of character. The Tuscans of the plain, but not those of the Maremmas, are the most gentle of Italians; they “live and let live,” and are exceedingly good-natured. A singular trait distinguishes them from the rest of the Italians: though brave when carried away by passion, they turn with horror from a dead body. In this we may trace the persistence of ancient superstitions, for though the Tyrrhenians concealed their tombs, the worship of the dead was the most prominent of their religious observances.

The modern Tuscans, like their ancestors, have known a time when they took the lead amongst the people of Italy, and even now they stand at the head of the nation in certain respects. After the decadence of Rome, when civilisation gravitated towards the north, the valley of the Arno became one of the great centres of the world’s activity. At that time the passage of the Alps was still difficult, but communications by sea were established between Tuscany, France, and Spain. The Apennines not only sheltered the fertile valleys opening upon the Tyrrhenian against cold northerly winds, but also against the hordes of barbarian invaders. Tuscany was, indeed, a favoured region, and its intelligent inhabitants made the most of the natural advantages they possessed. “Work” was the great law of the Florentines, and all, without exception, were expected to engage in it. Whilst Pisa disputed the dominion of the sea with Genoa and Venice, Florence became the head-quarters of commerce, and its bankers extended their operations to every part of Europe.

But Tuscany was more than a commercial and industrial country. What Athens had been to the world two thousand years ago, republican Florence became during its period of prosperity, and for the second time in the history of mankind there arose one of those centres of light the reflected rays from which still illuminate our own times. Arts, letters, sciences, and political economy—everything, in fact, that is noble in this world was cultivated with an energy to which nations had been strangers for a long time. The pliant genius of the Tuscans revelled in every species of work, and amongst the names great in history Florence may fairly claim some of the greatest. Where are the men that have exercised a greater influence in the world of art and intellect than Giotto, Orgagna, Masaccio, Michael Angelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Andrea del Sarto, Brunelleschi, Savonarola, Galileo, or Macchiavelli? It was a Florentine, too, Amerigo Vespucci, who gave his name to the New World, and justly so, for it was Vespucci through whom the discoveries made by the Spaniards first became known, and who, in 1501, bestowed the name of Novus Mundus upon the newly discovered countries, whilst Columbus died in the belief that he had reached the eastern coast of Asia.

The dialect of Florence has become the polished language of the whole of Italy, and it is curious that this honour should not have been carried off by Rome. But whilst Florence cultivated the arts and sciences, and through her great writers exercised an immense influence, the city of the popes yielded herself up to the worship of the past, and its literature was written in a dead language, more or less successfully imitated from that of Cicero. The dialect of Rome never became a language like that of Florence, but Italian is nevertheless indebted to Rome for its musical pronunciation, that of the Tuscans being harsh and guttural. Hence the old proverb, “Lingua Toscana in bocca Romana.” The delicate, pure poetry breathed in the ritornelli which Tuscan peasants chant in the evening is highly appreciated by all admirers of Italian, and the influence which the fine dialect of the Florentines exercised upon the unification of Italy can hardly be overestimated. The worshippers of Dante are almost justified in saying that Italian unity dates from the day on which the great poet first expressed himself in the firm and sonorous language which he had forged out of the various dialects spoken throughout the peninsula.

The geographical position of Tuscany accounts for the influence it has exercised upon Italy and the rest of the world, whilst its topography gives us the key to the local history of the country. The Apennines and the mountains to the south of the Arno divide it into a number of separate basins, each of which gave birth to a small state or republic. At the time of the Tyrrhenians Etruria formed a confederation of cities, whilst during the Middle Ages it was divided into numerous small republics, frequently at war with each other. Since that time many changes have taken place in the relative importance of the various towns, but even now most of the free cities of the Middle Ages, and even some founded by the ancient Etruscans, occupy a high rank amongst the provincial towns of Italy.

Florence (Firenze) is not one of these ancient cities of the Tyrrhenians; it is merely a Roman colony of comparatively modern origin. In the time of the Empire it was of small importance, for Fiesole, on a hill to the north, remained the leading town of the country until destroyed by the Florentines, who carried its columns and statues to their own town. The rapid growth of Florence during the Middle Ages is due to its position on the highway which connects Germany, Lombardy, and even Bologna with Southern Italy. As long as Rome was the capital of Italy travellers starting from the valley of the Tiber crossed the Apennines in the direction of Ancona and Ariminum. But after the fall of Rome, when barbarian hordes inundated the country from the north, the high-roads connecting the plains of Lombardy with the valley of the Arno rose into importance. This great military highway became simultaneously a high-road of commerce, and it was only natural that a great emporium should spring up on the site occupied by Florence. The “city of flowers” prospered, and became the marvel which we still admire. But the wealth of the growing commonwealth proved its destruction. The rich bankers grasped at political power, the Medici assumed the title of princes, and though the arts continued to flourish for awhile, public virtues decayed, the citizens became subjects, and intellectual life ceased.

Florence, as in the days of republican liberty, owes much of its wealth to the industry of its inhabitants. There are manufactories of silks and woollen goods, of straw hats, mosaics, china, cut stones (pierra dura), and other objects, all of them requiring workmen possessed of taste and manual dexterity. But neither these industries nor the commerce carried on by the town would have raised Florence above the level of other populous Italian cities. The prominent position it holds is due entirely to the beauty of its monuments, which attract to it the lovers of art from every quarter of the world. Not even Venice is equally rich in architectural masterpieces of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. The museums of Florence “la Bella”—such as the Uffizi, the Pitti Galleries, and the Academy of Arts—are amongst the richest in Europe, and contain some of the most highly prized treasures of art; its libraries abound in curious manuscripts and rare old books. Nay, the very streets and piazzas of the town, with their palaces, towers, churches, and statues, may be likened to a huge museum. Brunelleschi’s Duomo; Giotto’s Campanilla, which was to “surpass in beauty all imagination can conceive;” the Baptistery, with its incomparable doors of brass; the Piazza della Signoria; the monastery of San Marco, now a museum; the gloomy palace of the Strozzi; and numerous other buildings of superior merit make Florence the delightful place it is. Its charms are enhanced by the beauty of the surrounding country, and the traveller will always recall with pleasure the walks along the Arno, the hills of San Miniato and Belle Sguardo, and the picturesque spur upon which lie the villas and ruins of Etruscan Fiesole. Unfortunately the climate of Florence leaves much to be desired; the wind changes abruptly, and the heat in summer is overpowering. Il caldo di Firenze has become proverbial throughout Italy. Narrow streets, and to some extent the disregard of the laws of hygiene, cause the mortality to exceed that of nearly every other town on the Continent. During the Middle Ages pestilence was a frequent visitor, and Boccaccio tells us that in an single season nearly 100,000 inhabitants, or two-thirds of the entire population, were swept away by it. Targioni Tozetti contrasts the site of Empoli, a small town to the west, with that of Florence, and regrets that a project for removing Florence thither should not have been carried out, as proposed in 1260.

The only town of any importance in the upper valley of the Arno is Arezzo, an ancient city of the Etruscans, and at one time the capital of one of the most prosperous republics of the Middle Ages. The inhabitants ascribe to the “subtile air they breathe the subtility of their spirits,” and indeed the list of famous men connected with the town is very long. The present Arezzo, however, is a decayed place, and lives upon the memories and the monuments of a past age. Cortona, farther south, near the Lake of Trasimeno, claims to be the most ancient city of Italy; but all traces of its former greatness have disappeared. Siena, which formerly governed the whole of the hilly tract between the Arno and Ombrone, has fallen from her high estate, not without the fault of its own citizens, who were continually quarrelling amongst themselves. Siena no longer rivals Florence in population, power, or industry, but may still compare with the city on the Arno as regards its public buildings—many of them in the Gothic style—its works of art, its quaint streets and piazzas, and its magnificent position on the slopes of three hills. Chiusa, one of the most powerful towns of ancient Etruria, is of no importance now, and only attracts antiquarians in search of its ancient tombs. The vineyards of Montepulciano, on the same side of the vale of Chiani, produce the “king of wines.” Volterra is only a small town now, interesting, however, on account of its cyclopean walls and a museum abounding in Etruscan antiquities. The environs are dreary in the extreme. Salt-works, yielding from 7,000 to 8,000 tons a year, quarries of alabaster, copper mines at Monte Catini, sulphur springs, and the famous lagoni di Monti Cerboli (see p. 242), are in the neighbourhood.

The cities at the foot of the Apennines, on the other side of the Arno, have retained their importance, for they are favourably situated for commerce. Prato, where the valley of the Arno is widest, is the centre of a rich agricultural district. The quarries of serpentine in the neighbourhood have furnished building stones for many of the most beautiful edifices of Tuscany, including the cathedral of Prato, celebrated on account of Donatello’s marvellously sculptured pulpit. Pistoja, where the railway descends from the Apennines, is a busy manufacturing town. Other towns of some importance are Pescia, Capannori, in the “garden of Italy,” and Lucca the industrious, with its celebrated pictures by Fra Bartolommeo.

The basin of the Serchio is of incomparable productiveness since its marsh lands have been brought under cultivation. From the ramparts of Lucca one of the most charming views may be enjoyed. On the one hand we have the towers and cupolas of the town, on the other fertile fields and orchards, with white houses peeping through the verdure, and distant hills surmounted by old towers. The impression made by this view is one of perfect peace. In a country so fertile and beautiful, it would seem, the people ought to be happy, and, if enthusiastic writers can be believed, such is really the case, and the peasants of Lucca and of Lower Tuscany in general enjoy advantages denied to their class elsewhere in Italy. They are farmers for the most part, but hold their land by long leases, and their share of its produce is regulated by ancient custom. The land, however, does not suffice for their wants, and they emigrate in thousands in search of work. Many of these emigrants work as grinders.

The inhabitants of the Upper Serchio valley, known as the Garfagnana, are as industrious as those near Lucca, which is the natural outlet for its produce. The slopes and spurs descending from the Apennines and Apuanic Alps are cultivated in terraces. Castelnuovo, the chief town of this valley, occupies one of the most delightful spots of this picturesque district. The common people near it are said to speak the best Italian, superior even to that of the Sienese.

The valley of the Magra is far more frequented than that of Garfagnana, for the high-road from Parma to the Gulf of Spezia leads through it. In its upper portion, in the heart of the Apennines, stands the small town of Pontremoli. Its inferior portion, known as the Lunigiana, from the ancient city of Luni, is as beautiful as the parallel valley of the Serchio. At Sazana it opens upon the sea, and to the south of that charming town, where the Apuanic Alps approach close to the sea, leaving only a narrow passage of some note in history, are situated the towns of Carrara and Massa. Carrara, the “Quarry,” has replaced Luni as the place from whence the white marbles so highly esteemed by sculptors are exported, and choice blocks of which sometimes fetch £80 a cubic yard. No less than 720 quarries perforate the neighbouring hills, and about 300 of these are being worked now. The town may be likened to an agglomeration of sculptors’ studios, and its Academy has trained artists of high reputation. Massa enjoys a better climate than Carrara, but its marbles are less highly esteemed. As to the marbles of Serravezza, which are quarried in the Altissimo and other mountains of the Apuanic Alps near the town of Pietra Santa, they are in many instances as beautiful as those of Carrara. Michael Angelo highly appreciated them, and had a road constructed to facilitate access to them. The quarries and mines in the neighbourhood also yield slates, iron, lead, and silver.84

These towns at the foot of the Apuanic Alps were bound to prosper in proportion as the country increased in wealth, whilst Pisa, the great commercial republic of mediæval Tuscany, was doomed to decay, owing to the silting up of its harbour. This Porto Pisano was situated about ten miles to the south of what was then the mouth of the Arno. In 1442 its depth had been reduced to five feet, a century later only rowing boats could enter it, and soon after it was abandoned definitely. There are no traces of it now, and its very site is disputed. But though Pisa is dead—Pisa morta—the city still possesses admirable monuments of its past grandeur. It has a wonderful cathedral; an elegant baptistery; its Campo Santa, with the famous frescoes of Orgagna and Gozzoli; and a leaning tower commanding a view of the Pisan hills and the alluvial plains of the Arno and Serchio. Its commerce has dwindled away, but it is still the capital of a rich agricultural district, and its university is one of the best in Italy. It possesses, moreover, that which no change in the commercial highways can deprive it of, a mild climate, and during winter attracts numerous visitors from the north.

Leghorn, or Livorno, has inherited the commerce of Pisa. It is the natural outlet of the fertile districts of Tuscany, and its commerce is far more important than might be supposed from the unfavourable configuration of the coast, and is surpassed only by that of Genoa and Naples.85 Thousands of Spanish and Portuguese Jews who found a refuge here have contributed in no small measure to the development of the resources of the town. From an architectural point of view, Leghorn is one of the least interesting cities of Italy, but as the outcome of human labour it is one of the most curious. Before the city could be built, the swamps which occupied its site had to be drained, and an artificial harbour had to be excavated for the protection of vessels. Numerous canals intersect the north-western portion of the town, which is known as New Venice. A huge breakwater marks the entrance to the harbour, and on a sand-bank in the offing rises the tower of Meloria, which recalls the naval engagement in which the fleet of the Pisans was destroyed by the Genoese.

Insular Tuscany consists of Elba and several smaller islands, which mark the site of an isthmus that formerly joined the mainland to Corsica, and contribute greatly towards the beauty of the Tuscan littoral.

Elba, once the miniature kingdom of Napoleon, is larger than all the other islands together.86 An ancient dependency of the Etruscan city of Populonia, Elba rises above the blue waters of the Tyrrhenian a picturesque group of mountains. A narrow and dangerous strait separates its steep coasts from the promontory of Piombino, where passing vessels were formerly obliged to pay toll.

The granitic heights of Monte Capanne, the eastern extremity of the island, attain an elevation of 3,303 feet; the dome-shaped hills of serpentine at the other extremity are 1,600 feet in height, and the centre of the island is occupied by hills of various formations, covered with brushwood. The variety of rocks is very great, taking into account the small extent of the island. Associated with the granites and serpentine, we meet with beds of kaolin, and with marble similar to that of Carrara. Remarkable crystals and precious stones abound to such an extent, that Elba has been likened to a “mineralogical cabinet” on a vast scale.

Formerly, when the sea was infested by pirates, the inhabitants retreated to the recesses of the interior, or to the summits of steep promontories, where the picturesque ruins of ancient fortifications may still be seen. Several of the old inland villages continue to be inhabited; amongst others, that of Capoliberi, the “Mountain of the Free,” which is looked upon as a sort of acropolis. After the suppression of piracy the islanders came down to the marina, or coast, and established themselves in the towns of Porto Ferrajo, Porto Longone, Marciana, and Rio. The resources of the island are considerable, and afford plenty of occupation to fishermen, salt-makers, wine-growers, and gardeners. The inhabitants are hospitable, and, though neighbours of the fierce Corsicans, they possess all the gentleness of Tuscans.

Elba is not, however, so much noted on account of its fisheries, vineyards, salt-works, or commerce, as because of its rich deposits of iron ore. The russet-coloured cliffs of ironstone are visible from the mainland. The huge excavations made by the miners, many of whom are convicts, resemble the craters of extinct volcanoes, and the reddish brown, violet, or blackish colour of the rocks helps the illusion. Of the quantity of ore carried away from here in the course of twenty-five or thirty centuries we can hardly form a conception. The ironstone is bedded in layers, differing in colour according to the nature of the earthy ingredients, and rising into hills 600 and more feet in height, the slopes of which are covered with brushwood (macchie). Shovels and spades are the only mining tools required in clearing away these heaps of ore, of which at least 100,000,000 tons remain. By regular mining operations 500,000 tons might be obtained annually during twenty centuries. The annual produce at present hardly exceeds 100,000 tons. The ore is more particularly suited to the manufacture of steel. Loadstones abound near Capo Calamita. The mariners of the Mediterranean formerly made use of them in the construction of a primitive ship’s compass, by placing them in a piece of cork, which they allowed to float in a basin of water.

The smaller islands of the Tuscan archipelago are—Giglio, with quarries of granite; Monte Cristo, a pyramidal rock rising 2,130 feet above the sea-level; Pianosa, with an agricultural penal settlement; Capraja, with a small town built within an amphitheatre of pink-coloured granite; and Gorgona (987 feet).87

V — The Roman Apennines, the Valley of the Tiber, the Marches, and the Abruzzos

That portion of the Italian peninsula which has Rome for its centre may be likened to the trunk of the body, for it is there the Apennines attain their greatest height, and nowhere else to the south of the Po are rivers of equal magnitude met with.88

The main rampart of the Apennines runs parallel to the coast of the Adriatic. To the mariner, who sees these mountains rise above the verdure of the littoral region, they have an appearance of the greatest regularity. Summit rises beyond summit, one lateral chain succeeds to the other, and every one of the numerous valleys descends perpendicularly to the coast. The slope throughout is steep, and the geological strata, whether of Jurassic, cretaceous, or tertiary age, succeed each other regularly from the snow-clad summits down to the promontories of the coast. The only irregularity consists in a detached group of hills (1,880 feet) to the south of Ancona, above which the axis of the Apennines changes its direction. This region of Italy is the natural counterpart of Liguria. The position of Ancona corresponds with that of Genoa, and the coast, which extends on the one hand to Emilia, and on the other towards the peninsula of Monte Gargano, may fairly be likened to the “Rivieras” of Genoa, with this exception, that its direction is inverse. The territory between the mountains and the coast is narrow, the littoral road frequently winds round promontories, and the towns extend up the hill-sides. Still this portion of Italy is not as strongly protected by nature as Liguria. Towards the north it expands upon the plain of the Po, whilst the terraces at the foot of the main range of the Apennines afford easy access from the west. During the whole of the Middle Ages and down to our own days neighbouring states have fought for the possession of this territory, which has become known, from this circumstance, as the “Marches;” that is, the disputed frontier districts, where every town is a fortress perched on the top of a hill.

The Apennines forming the boundary between the Marches and Latium, or Rome, like those of Etruria, are grouped in separate mountain masses. The first of these commands the valley of the Tiber in the east; it extends in the north to Monte Comero (3,828 feet) and the Fumajolo, or head-stream of the Tiber, and in the south to Monte Verone (5,006 feet). Though inferior in height to other parts of the Apennines, these mountains are known as the Alpe della Luna. A gap, through which passes the road from Perugia to Fano, separates them from Monte Catria (5,585 feet). At that point the Apennines bifurcate, and two parallel ranges can be traced thence for a distance of 120 miles, as far as the transverse range of the Majella (9,158 feet), which reunites them, and from which radiate the mountains of Southern Italy. These parallel chains belong to the Jurassic and cretaceous formations, and neither of them forms a water-parting, for whilst the Nera and other rivers tributary to the Tiber force themselves a passage through the western one, that on the east is broken by numerous gorges, through which rivers and torrents find their way into the Adriatic. The most considerable of these rivers is the Pescara, which rises on the plateau of the Abruzzos, where it is known as the Aterno, and traverses the eastern range where it is highest. The gorge excavated by this river is sufficiently wide to afford space for a railway joining the Adriatic to the basin of the Tiber.

The plateau of the Abruzzos, enclosed by these parallel ranges, may be looked upon as the natural citadel of Central Italy. On its western side rise the double pyramids of Monte Velino (8,157 feet); in the north Monte Vettore (8,131 feet) forms the termination of the range of the Sibillini; in the east rises the culminating point of the Apennines, a mountain covered with snow the greater part of the year, and appropriately called the “Great Rock of Italy”—“Gran Sasso d’Italia” (9,518 feet). The fact that this magnificent mountain is the highest in all Italy has been known from times immemorial. The Romans conceived they had discovered the “umbilic of Italy” in a small lake near it, upon which floated an island formed of rank vegetation. The Marsi and their allies, when they took up arms against their Roman oppressors, chose Corfinium, in its neighbourhood, for the seat of their empire, and surnamed it Italica; and there, too, the first movements which led to the resurrection of modern Italy took place. The Gran Sasso, as seen from the Adriatic, affords a magnificent spectacle. Its calcareous masses cannot boast of much beauty of profile, but this is compensated for by the fine Alpine region extending beneath its summit, which remains the haunt of bears and chamois, and where rare plants in the meadows remind us of Switzerland. Forests of beeches and pines are still met with in a few places, and are all the more appreciated as forests no longer exist in the lowland regions. This universal destruction of the forests is one of the great misfortunes of Italy. In many parts of the Roman Apennines even the soil has been washed away, and only in a few crevasses do we meet with brooms and briers.

The valleys on the western slope of the Apennines are enclosed between calcareous spurs of the main range, some of which attain a considerable elevation. The Tiber itself thus passes between two lofty mountains, rising at the lower extremity of two of these Sub-Apennine spurs, and forming a kind of triumphal gateway. These are the Soracte (2,270 feet) and Gennaro (4,162 feet). These fine mountains, with the Sabine Hills and the volcanic groups near them, form the horizon of the Roman Campagna, and their natural beauties are enhanced by the memories of art and history which attach to them.

Several ranges of hills and detached mountain groups of calcareous formation, like the Sub-Apennines, border upon the shore of the Tyrrhenian Sea and the marshes which extend along it. Such are the hills, rich in alum, which are grouped around the ancient trachytic cone of the Tolfa. Such, too, are the Monte Lepini (4,845 feet), the naked crest of which has been likened to an ass’s back—schiena d’asino—and which bound the Pontine Marshes on the east. In some of the recesses of these hills there still exist forests of chestnut-trees and beeches, where the descendants of the ancient Volsci may pasture their hogs; but almost everywhere else the hill-sides are bare of vegetation, and the scorching rays of the sun have split the rocks into innumerable angular fragments. To the east of the marshes rises a summit with ten pinnacles, covered with dense shrub on the land side, but barren towards the sea, a few stunted palms excepted, which grow in the fissures of the rock. This isolated hill, a counterpart of the Argentaro of Tuscany, is the Circello (1,729 feet), famous as the residence of the enchantress Circe. The grotto where she changed human beings into animals is still pointed out there to the curious, and the remains of cyclopean walls recall the mythical age of the Odyssey. The ancient Greeks, who were but imperfectly acquainted with Italy, looked upon this dreaded promontory of Circe as one of the most important islands of the Western Cyclades.

During the glacial period the sea, in which have been deposited the chalk and other rocks composing the Sub-Apennines, was the scene of volcanic action on a grand scale. The matter ejected was heaped up in a line of volcanic cones, running in a direction nearly parallel with the Apennines and the coast of the Mediterranean. These cones are joined to each other by thick layers of tufa, which cover the whole of the plain as far as the foot of the calcareous mountains, and extend for a distance of nearly 120 miles, from Monte Amiata, in Tuscany, to the mountains of Albano, being interrupted only by the alluvial valley of the Tiber. Ponzi and other geologists are of opinion that this tufa was ejected from submarine volcanoes, carried away by the currents, and equally distributed over the depressions of the sea-bottom. No fossils have been discovered in it hitherto, which is accounted for by the presence of icebergs, which prevented a development of animal life.

This volcanic region is remarkable on account of its numerous lakes. The largest of these, that of Bolsena, was formerly looked upon as an ancient crater. This crater would have exceeded by far the largest volcanic vents met with in the Andes or in Java, for it has a circumference of twenty-five miles, and covers an area of forty-four square miles. Modern geologists, however, look upon this crateriform lake as a basin of erosion, and though it occupies the centre of a plateau formed of ashes, scoriæ, and lava, these do not form a steep edge towards the lake, as in the case of veritable craters in the same district. One of the most remarkable of these latter is that of Latera, to the west of the lake, in the centre of which rises a cone of eruption, the Monte Spignano, which has a diameter of nearly five miles.

The district of the Bolsena is likewise remarkable on account of its vertical precipices of tufa and lava. Its picturesque towns and villages are perched upon bold promontories looking down on the valleys. The old town of Bagnorea occupies the extremity of an immense mole, and is joined to the new town by a giddy path, bounded by steep precipices, which timid travellers do not care to venture upon. Orvieto stands on an isolated rock resembling a fortress. Pittigliano is surrounded by precipices: by cutting away a few yards of the narrow isthmus which joins it to the rest of the plateau, access to it would be impossible to all but birds. In the Middle Ages, when nobles and towns were continually at war, the capture of one of these eyries was looked upon as a grand achievement.

Lake Bolsena discharges its surplus waters through the Marta into the Mediterranean. The fine Lake of Bracciano, to the south of it, gives rise to the Arrone. It, too, appears to be a basin formed by a subsidence of the ground or erosion, and not a crater. The Lake of Vico, on the other hand, clearly occupies an ancient volcano, though its rampart has been gutted towards the east. Close to the lake, and within the encircling rampart, rises Monte Venere, a perfect cone, the gentle slopes of which are luxuriantly wooded. Formerly the lake surrounded this cone, but the breach through which its emissary escapes to the Tiber having gradually been deepened, the waters of the lake subsided. Tradition says that an ancient city lies at its bottom.

On crossing the Tiber we reach the beautiful volcanic group of Albano, within the great crater of which may still be traced the remains of several secondary craters, some of them occupied by lakes. The principal one of these, Monte Cavo (2,790 feet), rises in the very centre of the exterior rampart. Tradition points it out as one of Hannibal’s camps. The exterior slopes of the mountain consist of pozzuolana, small stones, and ashes, through which the torrents have dug out furrows in divergent directions. The diversity of these volcanic products enables us to trace the phases of activity of this Roman Vesuvius, which was active at a much more recent epoch than the volcanoes farther north, and sent its streams of lava to the very gates of Rome.

The Lake of Albano discharges its surplus waters through a tunnel 7,665 feet in length, which has been in existence for more than twenty-two centuries. The lake is famous on account of a small crab, large numbers of which are forwarded to Rome during Lent. It is the only species of this animal hitherto discovered in fresh water, and zoologists conclude from this that the crater now occupied by the lake formerly communicated with the sea, but was separated from it by slow upheavals and the ejection of volcanic products. Flint implements and vases of baked clay, discovered in the thick layers of volcanic peperino, prove that at the period of the earliest eruptions the country was already inhabited by a civilised population. Some of the vases referred to are doubly precious, for they present us with delineations of the houses of that prehistoric epoch. Roman coins and clasps of bronze, discovered in the upper layers of lava, prove that these are comparatively recent. In fact, the most diverse developments of civilisation have left their traces in these ancient craters. Alba Longa and other towns of the Latins have been replaced by Roman cities; then came the castles of the popes, and of other high dignitaries of the Church; and at present these hills are one of the chief resorts of the crowds of strangers who flock to Rome from every quarter of the world. On the culminating point of Monte Cavo stood the famous temple of Jupiter Latialis, where the Latins celebrated their federal Feriæ. The last remains of this temple were swept away in 1783, to be used in the construction of a church. From its site the eye embraces a view extending to the hills of Sardinia.

The Lake of Nemi no longer reflects in its bluish waters the foliage of luxuriant trees, or the walls of that dreaded temple of Diana whose priest was only allowed to assume office after he had killed his predecessor in a duel. It, too, has its subterranean emissary, like the Lake of Albano. As to the Regillus, famed for the defeat of the Latins by the Romans, it has dried up, whilst the incrustating Lake of Tartari and that of the Solfatara, with its floating islands, are more shallow ponds, which owe their fame almost exclusively to the vicinity of Tivoli.

All these volcanic lakes are of considerable depths, whilst the lakes in the calcareous regions are shallow.89 One amongst them, that of Fucino, has been drained recently, and the same fate is in store for that of Trasimeno. Lake Fucino originally occupied an area of 104 square miles, and its surplus waters discharged themselves towards the north-west into the Salto, a tributary of the Tiber. At an epoch not known to us the dimensions of the lake became less. It no longer discharged an effluent, but its waters rose and fell according to whether the seasons were wet or dry. Occasionally they rose as much as 50 feet, and two cities, Marruvium and Pinna, are said to have been swallowed up during one of these floods. At other times it was reduced to a swamp. The ancient Romans, desirous of suppressing a hotbed of fever, and of gaining fertile soil for agriculture, attempted to drain this lake. Claudius employed 30,000 slaves for eleven years in cutting a passage through the mountains from it to the Liri. This great work was carried on under the direction of the greedy Narcissus, but it turned out a failure, for after a short time the tunnel became choked. In the thirteenth century an attempt was made to reopen this tunnel, but the drainage of the lake has only been achieved quite recently, in accordance with plans designed by M. de Montricher, and carried out at the expense of Prince Torlonia. Between 1855 and 1869 a new tunnel was excavated on the site of the ancient one, and nearly 150,000,000 cubic yards of water were conveyed through it into the Liri, and thence to the sea. The whole of the ancient lake bed has been converted into smiling fields, traversed in all directions by carriage roads; houses have been erected on spots formerly covered with water; fruit and ornamental trees have been planted; and the salubrity of the country leaves nothing to be desired now. Some idea of the progress made in the art of engineering since the time of the Romans may be formed by comparing this new tunnel with the old one. The latter was 18,500 feet in length, had an average section of 12 square yards, and cost (according to M. Rotrou) £9,840,000. The new tunnel has a length of 20,680 feet, a section of 24 square yards, and cost £1,200,000.

The Lake of Perugia, better known as the Lake of Trasimeno, on account of the terrible memories which attach to it, still retains nearly the dimensions which it had at the dawn of history. If this lake were to rise only a few feet, its surplus waters would find their way into the Tresa, a tributary of the Tiber; but its basin is shallow, and evaporation suffices for carrying off the water conveyed into it by its tributary rivulets. Amongst these is the famous Sanguinetto, on the banks of which the armies of Hannibal and Flaminius were engaged in battle, when,

“beneath the fray,
An earthquake reeled unheededly away.”

The lake, with its islands and charming contours, is beautiful to look upon, but the low hills surrounding it are sterile, the climate is insalubrious, its waters harbour but few fish, and the inhabitants on its shores look impatiently forward to the time when the engineers will fulfil their promise of winning for agriculture 30,000 acres of fertile land now covered by the waters of the lake.

But far more urgent, on sanitary and economical grounds, are the claims of the Roman Campagna; that is, of the region lying between the Tolfa of Cività Vecchia, Monte Soracte, the Sabine Hills, and the volcanoes of Latium. Slavery and maladministration have converted a fertile region into a desert extending to the very gates of Rome. Painters are enraptured with this Roman Campagna; they admire its melancholy aspect, its picturesque ruins hidden beneath brambles, its solitary pines, its pools reflecting the purple clouds, and visited by thirsty buffaloes. True, this region, bounded by hills of bold contours, is full of grandeur and sadness; but the air that hangs over it is deadly, the soil and climate of this Agro Romano have deteriorated, and fever now reigns there supreme.

Two thousand years ago the Roman Campagna, which covers an area of 600,000 acres to the north of the Tiber, and extends from the sea to the mountains, was a fertile and carefully cultivated country. Then its inhabitants were reduced to the condition of serfs, the Roman patricians appropriated the land, and covered it with villas and parks. When these magnificent residences were given up to pillage and to flames, the cultivators of the soil dispersed, and the country immediately became a desert. Since that epoch most of the Agro is held in mortmain by ecclesiastical corporations or princely families, and whilst all the rest of Europe has been making progress, the Campagna has become even more sterile and insalubrious. Swamps continually invade the lowlands, and an atmosphere charged with miasmata hangs even above the hills. Malaria has already knocked at the gates of Rome, and the fevers produced by it decimate the population of its suburbs.

Not a village, not even a hamlet, is met with throughout this afflicted region. The only buildings are the wretched storehouses of the proprietors, whose wide domains are roamed over by herds of half-wild grey cattle, said to have been introduced into Italy by the Huns, and distinguished by immense horns, frequently suspended in the huts of the peasantry, who fancy that they keep off the “evil eye.” The soil of these neglected pastures consists of alluvium mixed with volcanic débris and marls, but only a few patches are cultivated. The farmers and labourers who engage in this labour carry their lives in their hands, and are frequently struck down by fever before they are able to regain their villages in the hills. What can be done to restore to this region its fertility, salubrity, and population? No doubt it will be necessary to drain the marshes, and to plant trees capable, like the Eucalyptus, of absorbing the poisonous miasmata; and this has been done, with a considerable amount of success, since 1870, near the abbey of Tre Fontane. But, above all, it will be necessary to interest the cultivator of the soil in its productiveness. Even in the most salubrious districts of the ancient Papal dominions the population is being decimated by misery and the maladies following in its train. In the valley of Sacco, to the south-east of Rome, which abounds in cereals, vines, and fruit trees, the cultivator of the soil is restricted to a diet of maize, for proprietors and money-lenders eat up the rest of his produce.

An uncultivated and insalubrious region extends, likewise, along the sea to the south of the Tiber. Poisonous vapours arise from the stagnant waters separated by dunes from the sea, and in order to escape them it is necessary to seek a refuge in the hills of the interior, or even on jetties built out into the sea, as at Porto d’Anzio. The palaces which formerly lined the shore from Ostia to Nettuno, and from the ruins of which have been recovered some of our most highly valued art treasures, such as the Gladiator and Apollo Belvedere, have been buried long ago beneath the dunes or in the swamps. The most dreaded of these malarial districts lies at the foot of the Monti Lepini, and extends from Porto d’Anzio to Terracina. It is known as the Pontine Marshes, from Pometia, a city said to have perished before historical times. No less than twenty-three cities formerly flourished in what is now a deserted and deadly country, but which was the most prosperous of the districts held by the confederation of the Volsci. The Roman conquerors created “peace and solitude” at the same time. Four hundred and forty years after the building of Rome, when Appius constructed his famous road to Terracina, the country was only a swamp. Various attempts have been made since to reclaim this region, but it still remains the haunt of boars, deer, and semi-savage buffaloes, whose ancestors were imported from Africa in the seventh century. The canals dug during the reign of Augustus appear to have been of little use; the works undertaken by Theodoric the Goth were more efficacious; but stagnant waters and malaria in the end regained the mastery. The engineers employed by Pius VI. towards the close of the eighteenth century failed likewise, and this district of 290 square miles remains a wilderness to the present day. If a brigand seeks refuge in it, pursuit is stopped, and he is allowed to die in peace.

In order to drain these marshes an accumulation of difficulties will have to be surmounted. A range of wooded dunes bounds the marshes on the west. Having crossed these, we enter a second zone of marshes, which are separated from the sea by a second range of dunes, extending northward from the Monte Circello, and likewise densely wooded. These two formidable barriers would have to be surmounted in order to drain the marshes towards the west. Nor are the prospects more promising in the direction of Terracina, for there, too, every outlet is stopped by dunes. The streams and canals crossing the marshes are, moreover, choked up with a dense growth of aquatic plants, which impedes the circulation of the water, feeble though it be. Herds of buffaloes are sometimes driven into these streams to trample down the vegetation, but neither this barbarous procedure nor the more regular process of mowing has availed against its rapid and luxuriant growth, and the water remains stagnant. Rains are not only heavy in this portion of Italy, but the superabundant waters of neighbouring river basins actually find their way through subterranean channels into the depression occupied by the Pontine Marshes. This happens after heavy rains in the case of the Sacco, a tributary of the Garigliano, and of the Teverone, a tributary of the Tiber, and to this circumstance must be ascribed the curious fact first ascertained by M. de Prony, viz. that the volume of water annually discharged by the Badino, which drains the marshes, exceeds by one-half the whole of the rain which annually descends upon them. When this happens the whole of the country is under water. Another danger arises during dry weather. It happens then occasionally that the parched vegetation is ignited through the carelessness of herdsmen; the fire communicates itself to the turfy soil, and the latter smoulders until the subsoil water is reached. In this manner tracts of land which were looked upon as secure against every inundation are converted into marsh. During the greater portion of the year the Pontine Marshes present the appearance of a plain covered with herbage and flowers, and it is matter for surprise that a country so fertile should be without inhabitants. The town of Ninfa, which was built in the eleventh century, near the northern extremity of the plain, has since been abandoned, its walls, houses, and palaces still remaining, covered with ivy and other creeping plants.

There can be no doubt that our engineers would be able to reclaim this desolate region. The system adopted in the case of the valley of the Chiana may not be practicable, but other, if more costly, means may be devised. Whatever the outlay, it is sure to be productive, for even now the marshes yield rich harvests of wheat and maize.

The Tiber, or Tevere, the great river of the Romans, has defied all attempts at correction down to our own days, and its sudden floods are said to be even more formidable now than they were in the days of the Republic. Ever since the time of Ancus Martius there has been going on a struggle against the alluvium brought down by the river, and it will need all the skill of the Italian engineers to master this difficult problem.

The Tiber is by far the most important river of the peninsular portion of Italy, and its basin is the most extensive.90 It is, too, the only river that is navigable in its lower course, from Ostia to Fidenæ. The Tiber rises on the western slope of the Alpe della Luna, in the latitude of Florence. The valley through which it flows, whilst in the heart of the Apennines, is of surpassing beauty; at one time it expands into broad and fertile basins, at others it is hemmed in by precipitous rocks. Below the charming basin of Perugia the Tiber receives the Topino, formed by the confluence of several streams in the old lacustrine basin of Foligno, one of the most delightful districts of all Italy, situated at the foot of the Great Apennines and of the Col Fiorito, which leads across them. The Clituno (Clitumnus) debouches upon this plain, famous on account of its pellucid waters:—

“The most living crystal that was e’er
The haunt of the river nymph, to gaze and lave
Her limbs.”

The ruins of a beautiful temple still remain near the source of this river, but the miraculous power of the latter of changing into a brilliant white the wool of the sheep grazing upon its sacred banks has gone for ever.

The Nera is the most important tributary of the Tiber; “it gives it to drink,” as the Italian proverb says, and rivals it in volume. It is formed by the junction of several streams descending from the Sibylline Mountains, Monte Velino, and the Sabine Hills. About two thousand years ago, it is said, most of these rivulets did not reach the Tiber; they were intercepted in the plain of Rieti, where they formed the Lacus Velinus, represented at the present day by a few ponds and marshes scattered over the fertile fields of the “Garden of Roses.” A breach effected in the calcareous rocks, and several times enlarged since, allowed the pent-up waters of the Velino to escape to the Nera, and in doing so they formed those beautiful cascades of Marmora, above Terni, whose charms have been celebrated by poets and painters. The river falls down a perpendicular height of 542 feet in a single sheet, and then rushes down, over heaped-up blocks of rock, until it joins the more placid waters of the Nera. Far less grand, but perhaps more charming, are the numerous cascatellas of the Anio, or Teverone, the last affluent of any importance which the Tiber receives above Rome. Standing on the verdant hill upon which is built the picturesque town of Tivoli, silvery cascades may be seen to escape in every direction. Some of them glide down the polished rocks; others shoot forth from gloomy arches, remain suspended an instant in the air, and then disappear again beneath the foliage; but every one of them, whether a powerful jet or a mere thread of water, possesses some charm of its own, and, as a whole, they form one of the most delightful spectacles to be witnessed in Italy. It is these cascades which have rendered Tivoli famous throughout the world; and in spite of the popular rhyme—

“Tivoli di mal conforto,
O piove, o tira vento, o suona a morto!”—

modern residences have taken the place of the villas of the ancient Romans, amongst which that of Hadrian was the most sumptuous. Its ruins, to the west of Tivoli, cover an area of three square miles. Recently it has been proposed to utilise the great water power of the Anio far more extensively than has been done hitherto. The ancients contented themselves with quarrying the concretionary limestone, or travertin, deposited by the calcareous waters of the river, sometimes to the depth of a hundred feet. They made use of this stone for the construction of their public buildings. Travertin, when first quarried, is white; after a certain time it turns yellow, and subsequently assumes a beautiful roseate hue, which imparts a character of majesty to the edifices constructed of it.

Below their confluence with the Anio, the yellow waters of the Tiber, discoloured by the clay brought down from the plains of Umbria, rush beneath the bridges of Rome. Soon afterwards the river winds round the last hills, which formerly bounded an ancient gulf of the sea, now silted up. The influence of the tides makes itself felt. At the head of the Sacred Island, formerly dedicated to Venus, and famous for its roses, but now a dreary swamp, covered with reeds and asphodels, it bifurcates. The principal branch, the old Tiber, passes to the south of this island. Ostia, which was the port of the river during the early days of Rome, is buried now beneath fields of cereals and thistles, at a distance of five miles from the sea. Excavations made there since 1855 have laid bare several temples, tombs, and warehouses. The merchants of Rome were compelled to abandon that city two thousand years ago, on account of a bar formed at the mouth of the river.

The Roman emperors, anxious to have an outlet into the sea, ordered a ship canal to be excavated to the north of Ostia. This is the Fiumicino, which the erosive action of the Tiber has converted into a small river. Claudius had huge docks excavated to the north of this canal, and a new Ostia arose near them. Trajan opened another port to the south-east of it, which remained for several centuries the port of Rome. But it, too, has been silted up for about a thousand years, and the alluvium brought down by the Tiber is continually encroaching upon the sea, the rate of progress being about three feet annually at the mouth of the Fiumicino, and ten feet at that of the old Tiber. Extensive ruins of palaces, baths, and storehouses exist near the ancient port of Trajan, and several works of art have recently been excavated there.

The mouth of the Tiber is thus closed by a bar, like that of all other rivers which flow into the Mediterranean; and the Romans, instead of being able to make use of their river for communicating with the sea, are obliged to have recourse to more distant harbours. In former times they kept up this communication with Sicily, Greece, and the Orient through Antium, Anxur (Terracina), and even Puteoli; but since the countries of the North have risen into political and commercial importance, Cività Vecchia has become the great maritime entrepôt of the valley of the Tiber. It is well known that Garibaldi has conceived the stupendous project of converting Rome into a great maritime city. The stagnant waters of the Campagna are to be carried off by means of a huge sanitary canal, the bed of the Tiber is to be deepened, and an artificial harbour capable of receiving the largest vessels is to be constructed far out in the Mediterranean.

The execution of this vast scheme is no doubt attended with immense difficulties, not the least amongst which are the annual floods of the Tiber. Ancient writers tell us that these inundations were dreaded not only because of the damage done directly, but also because of the great quantities of animal and vegetable deposits which remained in the fields after the subsidence of the waters. The nature of these floods has continued the same down to the present time. At Rome, though its distance from the sea is only twenty-two miles, the river frequently rises forty or fifty feet, and in December, 1598, it rose sixty-five feet! How is this huge volume of water to be disposed of after it has passed beneath the bridges of Rome? If the destruction of the forests in the Apennines is one of the principal causes of these floods, will it be sufficient to replant them? Or would it be preferable to restore some of those ancient lakes into which numerous rivers discharged themselves, which now take their course to the sea? The difficulties are great indeed, for the western slope of the Apennines is exposed to the rain-bearing westerly and south-westerly winds, and the floods of every one of the numerous tributaries of the Tiber take place simultaneously, and combine to form one vast inundation.

It is by no means difficult to account for the great floods of the Tiber which take place in winter, but the condition of the river during summer has for a long time baffled inquiry. The level of the river during the dry season is far higher than could possibly be accounted for by the small quantity of rain which falls within its basin. Its volume in summer is never less than half its average volume, a phenomenon not hitherto observed in the case of any other river. The Seine has a basin five times larger than that of the Tiber, and its average volume is almost double; yet, after a continuance of dry weather, its volume is only a third or fourth of the Italian river. This perennity of the Tiber can only be accounted for by assuming that it is fed, during the dry season, from subterranean reservoirs, in which the water is stored up during winter. These reservoirs must be very numerous, if we are to judge by the numerous “sinks,” or “swallows,” met with on the calcareous plateaux of the Apennines. One of these sinks, known as the “Fountain of Italy,” near Alatri, close to the Neapolitan frontier, has the appearance of a huge pit, 160 feet in depth and 300 feet across. Its bottom is occupied by a forest, and numerous springs give rise to luxuriant herbage, upon which sheep lowered by means of ropes feed with avidity. It is from sinks like this that the rivers of the country, the Tiber and the Sacco, are fed. It has been computed by Venturoli and Lombardini, the engineers, that about three-fourths of the liquid mass of the Tiber during winter are derived from subterranean lakes hidden in the depths of the Apennines. The volume of water annually supplied from this source to the Tiber would fill a basin having an area of 100 square miles to a depth of 80 feet! 91

Primitive Rome is to a large extent indebted for her power to the Tiber, not because that river is navigable, but because it traverses the centre of a vast basin, of which Rome is the natural capital. Rome, moreover, occupied a central position with regard to the whole of Italy and the world of the ancients; but, as has already been pointed out, Rome no longer lies upon any of the great high-roads of nations. That city certainly occupies not only the centre of Italy, but of all the countries surrounding the Tyrrhenian Sea; and its climate would leave little to be desired, if it were not for the insalubrity of the Campagna. Still Rome, though the residence of two sovereigns, the King of Italy and the Pope, is not even the principal city of the peninsula, and still less the capital of the Latin race. It is said that during the Middle Ages, when the popes resided at Avignon, the population of Rome was reduced to 17,000 souls. Gregorovius, than whom no one is better acquainted with that epoch in the history of Rome, doubts this; but there can be no doubt that after the sack ordered by the Constable of Bourbon its population was reduced to 30,000 souls. More recently Rome has increased rapidly, but it is still very inferior to Naples, and even to Milan.

From the very first the Romans were a mixed race. The myth of Romulus and Remus, the rape of the Sabine women, and incessant internal conflicts bear evidence to this fact. The remains of ancient cities, cyclopean walls, burial-grounds, urns, vases, and ornaments prove that on the right bank of the Tiber the Etrurians were at least as strong as the Italians. Elsewhere the Gauls predominated, and from an intermixture of all these various peoples sprang the primitive Roman.

When Rome had reached the zenith of her power things wore a different aspect, and thousands of foreigners became amalgamated with the Latins, Gauls, Iberians, Mauritanians, Greeks, Syrians, and Orientals of every race and climate; slaves, freemen, and citizens flocked towards the capital of the world, and modified the character of its inhabitants. Towards the close of the Empire there were more strangers within the walls of Rome than Romans, and when the empire of the West broke to pieces, and the empress-city was pillaged repeatedly by barbarian hordes, the Italians had already become mixed with the most diverse elements. This endless mixture between different races, victors and vanquished, masters and slaves, accounts, perhaps, more satisfactorily for the great changes which have taken place in the course of two thousand years in the character and spirit of the Romans. Still the Romans on the right bank of the Tiber, the so called Trasteverini, have preserved the old Roman type, as transmitted to us in statues and on medals.

Rome is great because of its past, and its ruins are more attractive than its modern buildings; it is a tomb rather than a living city. These monuments, raised by the former masters of the world, strongly impress the imagination. The sight of the Coliseum arouses an admiration akin to terror, unless we look upon this formidable edifice as a mere heap of stones. The thought that this vast arena was crowded with men who sought to kill each other, that the steps surrounding it were occupied by 80,000 human beings who delighted in this butchery and encouraged it by their shouts, calls up an amount of baseness, ferocity, and frenzy, whose existence could not fail to sap the foundations of Roman civilisation, and make it an easy prey to the barbarian. The Forum awakens memories of quite a different nature. Abominations were practised there, too, but its history as a whole exhibits it as the true centre of the Roman world. It was from this spot that the first impetus was given to the nations of the West; it was here that the ideas imported from every quarter of the world bore fruit. The walls, columns, temples, and churches which surround the Forum relate in mute language the principal events in the history of Rome; and if we search beneath existing edifices we meet with structures more ancient, which take us back to a period still more remote, for edifice has succeeded edifice on this spot, where pulsated the life of the Roman people. And thus it is throughout Rome. Every ancient monument, arcade, or broken column, every stone, bears witness to some historical event, and though it may be difficult sometimes to interpret these witnesses of the past, the truth is elicited by degrees.

In spite of pillage and wholesale destruction, there still exist numerous ancient monuments, of which the Pantheon of Agrippa is one of the most marvellous. The Vandals, who are usually charged with the work of destruction, pillaged the city, it is true, but they demolished nothing. The systematical destruction had begun long before their time, when the materials for building the first church of St. Peter were taken from the Circus of Caligula, and from other monuments near it. The same plan was pursued in the construction of innumerable other churches and buildings of every kind. Statues were broken to pieces and used for making lime, and in the beginning of the fifteenth century there only remained six of them in all Rome, five of marble and one of bronze. The invasion of the Normans in 1084, and the numerous wars of the Middle Ages, which were frequently attended by pillage and conflagrations, wrought further havoc, but so large had been the number of public buildings and monuments, that on the revival of art in the sixteenth century many still remained for study and imitation. Since that time the architectural collection enclosed by the walls of Rome has been guarded with the utmost care, and still further enriched by the masterpieces of Michael Angelo, Bramante, and others.

On the Palatine Hill the most curious remains of ancient Rome, including the foundations of the palaces of the Cæsars and of the walls of Roma Quadrata, have recently been laid open. It was on this hill, so rich in precious relics, that the first Romans built their city, in order to afford it the protection of steep escarpments, and of the marshes on the Tiber and Velabro. When Rome grew more populous it became necessary to descend from this hill. The town spread over the valley of the Velabro, which had been drained by Tarquin the Etruscan, and then climbed up the surrounding hills. A small island in the Tiber occupied its centre. This the Romans looked upon as a sacred spot. They enclosed it by a masonry embankment, shaped like a ship, erected an obelisk in its centre to represent a mast, and a temple of Æsculapius upon the poop. This island was likened to a vessel bearing the fortunes of Rome.

There is still another Rome, the subterranean one, which is well worth study, for we learn more from it about early Christianity than from all the books that have been written. The crypts of the Christian burying-places occupy a zone around the city a couple of miles in width, and embrace about fifty distinct catacombs. Signor Rossi estimates the length of the subterranean passages at 360 miles. They are excavated in the tufa, and are, on an average, a yard in width, but they include chambers which served as oratories, and numerous tiers of niches for the bodies. The inscriptions, bas-reliefs, and paintings of these cities of the dead were at all times respected by the pagans, and fortunately the entrances to them were closed up at the time the Barbarians invaded Rome. This saved their contents from destruction, and everything was found intact when they were first reopened towards the close of the sixteenth century. These tombs prove that the popular belief of the Christians of that time was very different from what it is represented to have been by contemporaneous writers, who belonged to a different class of society from that of the majority of the faithful. A serene gaiety reigns throughout, and lugubrious emblems find no place there. We neither meet with representations of martyrdoms nor with skeletons or images of Death; even the cross, which at a later epoch became the great symbol of Christianity, is not seen there. The most common symbols met with are those of the Good Shepherd carrying a lamb upon his shoulders, and the vine decked with leaves. In the oldest catacombs, which date back to the second and third centuries, the figures are Greek in character, and abound in heathen subjects. One represents the Good Shepherd surrounded by the Three Graces. There are two Jewish catacombs, likewise excavated in the tufa, and they enable us to compare the religious notions which prevailed at that time amongst the followers of the two religions.

By an absurd predilection for mystical numbers, Rome is even now spoken of as the “City of the Seven Hills,” although it lost all claim to such a designation after it had outgrown the walls built by Servius Tullius. Independently of Monte Testaccio, which is merely a heap of potsherds, there are at least nine hills within the walls of actual Rome, viz. the Aventino, to which the plebeians retired during their feeble struggles for independence; the Palatino, the ancient seat of the Cæsars; the Capitolino, surmounted by the temple of Jupiter; Monte Celio (Cælius); the Esquilino; Viminale; Quirinale; Citorio; and the Pincio, with its public gardens. Besides these, there are two hills on the opposite bank of the Tiber, viz. Monte Gianicolo (Janiculum), the highest of all, and the Vatican, which derives its name from the Latin word vates, a soothsayer, it having once been the seat of Etruscan divination.

Faithful to its traditions, the last hill has ever since remained the place of vaticinations. When the Christian priests left the obscurity of the catacombs they established themselves upon it, and thence they governed Rome and the Western world. The Papal palace, abounding in treasures of art, was built upon it, and close to it stands the resplendent basilica of St. Peter, the centre of Catholic Christendom. A long arcade connects the palace with the Castle of Sant’ Angelo, the ancient mausoleum of Hadrian. The guns of this fortress no longer defend the Vatican, for the temporal power of the pontiffs is a thing of the past; but their sumptuous church of St. Peter, with its dome rising high into the air, and visible even from the sea, its statues, marbles, and mosaics, bears witness to the fact that the riches of all Christendom formerly found their way to Rome. St. Peter’s alone cost nearly £20,000,000 sterling, and is only one out of the 365 churches of the city of the popes. At the same time, the admiration which their sumptuous edifice arouses is not without its alloy. A multiplicity of ornaments dwarfs the proportions of this colossal building, and, more serious still, instead of its being the embodiment of an entire epoch of its faith and ideas, it is representative only of a transitory phase in the local history of Catholicism, of an age of contradictions, when the paganism of the Renaissance and the Christianity of the Middle Ages allied themselves in order to give birth to a pompous and sensuous neo-Catholicism suited to the tastes and caprices of the century. How different is the impression we derive from this building from that which the sombre nave of a Gothic cathedral makes upon us! It is a remarkable fact that the quarter of Rome in which the church of St. Peter is built is the only portion of the city which was laid waste by the Mussulmans in 846, who are thus able to boast of having sacked Papal Rome and taken possession of Jerusalem, whilst the tomb of Mohammed has ever remained in the hands of the faithful. As to the Jews, they did not come to Rome as conquerors. Shut up in their filthy Ghetto near the swampy banks of the Tiber, and not far from that arch of Titus which reminded them of the destruction of their temple, they have been the objects of hatred and persecution during nineteen centuries. They have survived, thanks to the power of their gold, and since their liberation from bondage they contribute even more to the embellishment of the Italian capital than do their Christian fellow-citizens.

Our nineteenth century is not favourable to the creation of edifices fit to rival the Coliseum or St. Peter’s, but there are works of another nature, not less deserving of attention, which may distinguish this third era in the history of Rome. Above all, it will be necessary to protect the city against the floods of the Tiber, and to improve its sanitary condition. The bed of the river will have to be deepened, embankments constructed, and a system of drainage established.

It is well known that the quantity of water supplied to the Rome of the ancients was prodigious. In the time of Trajan nine grand aqueducts, having a total length of 262 miles, supplied about 4,400 gallons of water per second, and this quantity was augmented to the extent of one-fourth by canals subsequently constructed. Even now, although most of these ancient aqueducts are in ruins, the water supply of the capital of Italy is superior to that of most other cities.92 But if the time should ever come when Rome will occupy the whole of the space enclosed within its walls, if ever the Forum should again become the centre of the city, then the want of water will be felt there as much as in most of the other great towns of Europe.

Irrespective of the insalubrity of the environs, there is another reason why modern Rome cannot compare with the ancient city. Its streets no longer radiate from a centre towards all the points of the compass, as they did of yore. The Appian Road, which on first leaving the city passes through a curious avenue of tombs, is typical of the old roads, constructed in straight lines, and shortening distances. It is true that these ancient highways have been superseded by railways, but they are still few in number, and Rome is not situated on a trunk line. Elsewhere railways were built from the capital of the country towards its periphery; in Italy, on the contrary, it was Florence, Bologna, and Naples which constructed lines converging upon Rome.

Rome is one of those large cities which are least able to exist upon their own resources, and having no port, and its immediate vicinity being rendered uninhabitable by miasmata, it has attached to it outlying places, and occupies a position similar to that of a spider in the centre of its web. Its gardens, rural retreats, and industrial establishments are all in the hill towns of Tivoli, Frascati (near which on a ridge are the ruins of Tusculum), Marino (near which the confederated nations of Latium held their meetings), Albano (joined by a magnificent viaduct to Ariccia), Velletri (the old city of the Volsci), and Palestrina (more ancient than either Alba Longa or Rome, and occupying the site of a famous temple of Fortune, the pride of ancient Præneste). Its watering-places are Palo, Fiumicino, and Porto d’Anzio, which adjoins the little town of Nettuno, so famous because of the haughty beauty of its women. Its only seaport is Cività Vecchia, a dreary town on the Tyrrhenian Sea, with a magnificent harbour.93 The ancient harbours to the south of the Tiber are very little resorted to in our day. Terracina, hidden amidst verdure at the foot of white cliffs, is only used by Rome-bound travellers coming by the coast road from the south.94 Nearly every other town of Latium is built on one or other of the two great roads, of which one leads northward to Florence, whilst the other penetrates the valley of the Sacco towards the south-east, and finally issues upon the campagna of Naples. Viterbo, the “city of nice fountains and pretty girls,” is the principal town in the north. Alatri, on the slope of the Garigliano, and commanded by a superb necropolis enclosed by cyclopean walls, occupies a similar position in the south. In the east, in one of the most charming valleys of Sabina, traversed by the ever-cool waters of the Anio, lies Subiaco, the ancient Sublaqueum, thus named after the three reservoirs constructed by Nero, who used to fish trout in them with a golden net. It was in a holy cave (sacro specu) near Subiaco that St. Benedict established his famous monastery, which preceded the still more famous monastery of Monte Casino, and conjointly with that of Lérins, in Provence, became the cradle of monachism in the West.95

Perugia, the capital of Umbria, on the road from Rome to Ancona, is one of the ancient cities of the Etruscans, and excavations carried on in its vicinity have revealed tombs of the highest interest. After every war and disaster this city has arisen from its ruins, for its position in the midst of a fertile plain, and at the point of junction of several natural high-roads, is most favourable. It is both a Roman and a Tuscan city, and at the period of the Renaissance it gave birth to one of the great schools of painting. There still remain numerous monuments at Perugia which date back to that famous epoch, and although no longer one of the artistic head-quarters of Italy, it is still the seat of a university; its trade, especially in raw silk, is active; and its clean houses and streets, its pure atmosphere, and charming inhabitants annually attract to it a large number of the foreigners who spend the winter at Rome. Perugia has by far outstripped its rival, Foligno, which was formerly the great commercial mart of Central Italy, and still carries on a few branches of industry; amongst others, the tanning of leather. As to Assisi, it is justly famous because of its temple of Minerva, and its gorgeous monasteries decorated with the frescoes of Cimabue and his successor, Giotto, the last of the Greek and the first of the Italian painters. Assisi is only a small place now, but its environs are fertile and densely inhabited. It gave birth to Francesco d’Assisi, the founder of the order of St. Francis.

Other towns of Umbria, though not now of much importance, may boast of having once played a great part in history, or of possessing beautiful monuments. Spoleto, the gates of which Hannibal sought in vain to force, has a superb basilica, a Roman viaduct carried across a deep ravine, and mountains clad with pines and chestnuts. Terni is proud of its famous cascade (see p. 270). Orvieto, to the north of the Tiber, near the frontier of Tuscany, is haughty and dirty, but justly famous on account of its marvellous cathedral, one of the most costly and tasteful buildings in the world. Città di Castello, on the Upper Tiber, and Gubbio, in the very heart of the mountains, are the two principal towns in the Umbrian Apennines. Both are delightfully situated, and possess efficacious mineral springs. At Gubbio are shown the famous “Eugubian Tables,” seven plates of bronze covered with Umbrian characters, and the only relics of that kind known to exist. The little town of Fratta, now known as Umbertide, half-way between Perugia and Città di Castello, is only of local importance.96

Ancona is the Adriatic port of the Roman countries. It is an ancient city of the Dorians, which still retains the name given it by its founders, on account of its being situated at the “angle” formed by the coast between the Gulf of Venice and the Southern Adriatic. A fine triumphal arch near the mole attests the importance which Trajan attached to the possession of this port. Thanks to its favourable position and the labour bestowed upon the improvement of its harbour, Ancona is one of the three great places of commerce on the Adriatic; it ranks next to Venice, and is almost the equal of Brindisi, though not one of the stages on the road to India. Its commerce is fed by Rome, the Marches, and Lombardy; and amongst its exports are fruits, oil, asphalt from the Abruzzos, sulphur from the Apennines, and silk, “the very best in the world,” if the native estimate of its quality can be accepted.97 The other ports along this coast offer but little shelter, and their commerce is small. Pesaro, the native town of Rossini, is only visited by vessels of twenty or thirty tons. Fano merely admits barges. The small river port of Sinigaglia (Senigallia) was formerly much frequented during the fair, at which commodities valued at £1,000,000 sterling used to change hands, but since its abolition in 1870 it has been deserted.

With the exception of Fabbriano, which occupies a smiling valley of the Apennines, and of Ascoli-Piceno, on the river Tronto, the inland towns of the Marches are built upon the summit of hills, but extend through their suburbs to the cultivable plains. The principal amongst them are Urbino, whose greatest glory consists in having been the birthplace of Raphael, and which, like its neighbour Pesaro, formerly produced a kind of faience much valued by connoisseurs; Jesi; Osimo; Maxerata; Recanati, the native place of Leopardi; and Fermo. One of the most famous of these hill towns is Loreto, formerly the most-frequented place of pilgrimage in the Christian world. Before the Reformation, and at a time when travelling was far more difficult than now, as many as 200,000 devotees visited the shrines of Loreto every year. They were shown there the veritable house in which the Virgin Mary was born, and which was carried by angels to the spot it now occupies, where it is sheltered by a magnificently decorated dome. At Castelfidardo, close by, was fought the battle which cost the Pope the greater part of the “patrimony of St. Peter.”

There are only a few towns in the uplands of the Abruzzos. The principal of these is Aquila, founded in the thirteenth century by the Emperor Frederick II. The other towns are difficult of access, and, far from attracting inhabitants from beyond, they send their vigorous sons to the lowlands, where they are known as Aquilani, and highly appreciated as terrace gardeners. The most populous places are met with in the lower valley of the Aterno, or command the road leading to the coast and the fertile fields of the Adriatic slope. Solmona is embedded in a huge garden, anciently a lake, and overlooked in the south by the steep scarps of Monte Majella. Popoli, at the mouth of a defile, where the Aterno assumes the name of Pescara, is one of the busiest places between the sea and the uplands. Chieti, lower down on the same river, is said to have been the first town in the old Neapolitan province to introduce steam into its spinning-mills and other factories. Teramo and Lanciano are likewise places of some importance, but the only ports along the coast, Ortona and Vasto, are merely frequented by small coasting vessels.98

A small district in the Marches, joined to the coast by a single road, has maintained its independence through ages. Monte Titano, which rises in one of the most beautiful parts of the Apennines, and the base of which has been used as a quarry since time immemorial, bears upon its summit the old and famous city of San Marino. From its turreted walls the citizens can see the sun rise above the Illyrian Alps. San Marino, with some neighbouring hamlets, constitutes a “most illustrious” republic, and is now the only independent municipality of Italy. Named after a Dalmatian mason who lived as a hermit on Monte Titano, San Marino has existed as a sovereign state from the fourth century, its citizens having at all times known how to turn to advantage the jealousies of their neighbours. The constitution of this republic, however, is anything but democratic. The citizens, even though they be landed proprietors, have no votes, and are at most permitted to remonstrate. The supreme power is vested in a Council of sixty members, composed of nobles, citizens, and landowners. The title of councillor is hereditary in the family, and when a family becomes extinct the remaining fifty-nine choose another. The Council appoints the various officials, including a captain for the town and one for the country. San Marino has its little army, its budget, and its monopolies. A portion of its income is derived from the sale of titles and of decorations, and on the payment of £1,400 it has even created dukes, who take rank with the highest nobility of the kingdom. Taxation is voluntary. When the public chest is empty a drummer is sent round the town to invite contributions. Though perfectly independent, this republic accepts a subsidy from Italy, and claims the special protection of the King. Its criminals are shut up in an Italian prison, its public documents are printed in Italy, and an Italian judge occupies the bench of the republican prætorium. There is no printing-office in the little state, for the Council is afraid that books objectionable to the surrounding kingdom might be issued from it.99

VI — Southern Italy, Naples

Amongst the various states which have been welded into the modern kingdom of Italy, Naples, though second to others in population and industry, occupies the largest area.100 It embraces the whole southern half of the peninsula, and its coast has a development of 995 miles. Formerly the country was better known than any other portion of Italy as Magna Græcia, but now many parts of it are scarcely known at all.

The Apennines of Naples can hardly be described as a mountain chain. They consist rather of distinct mountain groups joined by transverse ranges, or by elevated saddles. In the first of these groups the serrated crest of the Meta (7,364 feet) rises above the zone of trees, and is separated from the Abruzzos by the deep valley of the Sangro, which flows to the Adriatic. Farther to the south, beyond the valley of Isernia, which gives birth to the Volturno, rise the mountains of the Matese, culminating in the Miletto (6,717 feet), the last bulwark of the Samnites. Other summits, less elevated, but equally steep and imposing, rise near Benevento and Avellino. They abound in savage defiles, in which many a bloody battle has been fought. The valley of the “Furcæ Caudinæ,” where the Romans humbled themselves before the Samnites, and made promises which they never meant to keep, may still be recognised on the road from Naples to Benevento. The memory of this event lives in the Caudarola Road, and the village of Forchia d’Arpaia. This mountain region, which might fitly be called after its ancient inhabitants, is connected in the south with a transversal chain, running east and west, and terminating in Cape Campanello, to the south of the Bay of Naples. The beautiful island of Capri, with its white cliffs and caverns flooded by the azure waters of the Mediterranean, lies off this cape.

The eastern slope of the cretaceous mountains of Naples is gentle, and gradually merges in argillaceous tavolieri, or table-lands, deposited during the Pliocene epoch. The tavoliere de la Puglia is, perhaps, the most sterile and dreary portion of Italy. It is cut up into terraces by deep ravines, through which insignificant streams find their way to the Adriatic, and the centres of population must be looked for at the mouths of valleys or along the high-roads. The country itself is a vast solitude, deserted by all except nomad herdsmen. There are no shrubs, and a kind of fennel, which forms the hedges separating the pasturing grounds, is the largest plant to be seen. Hovels, resembling tombs or heaps of stone, rise here and there in the midst of these plains. Fortunately the old feudal customs which prevented the cultivation of these plains, and compelled the mountaineers to keep open wide paths, or tratturi, through their fields for the passage of sheep, have been abolished, and the aspect of the tavoliere improves from year to year.

These tavolieri completely separate the mountains of the peninsula of Gargano—the “spur” of the Italian “boot”—from the system of the Apennines. The northern slopes of these rugged mountains are still clad with forests of beeches and pines, which supply the best pitch of Italy, and by thickets of carob-trees and other plants, whose flowers are transformed by the bees into delicious honey; but the very name of the most elevated summit—Monte Calvo (5,150 feet), or “bald mountain”—proves that the deplorable destruction of forests has been going on here as in the rest of the peninsula. In former times the recesses of Monte Gargano were held by Saracen pirates, and they defied the Christians there for a long time, in spite of the many sanctuaries which had been substituted for the ancient heathen temples. The most famous of these was the church on Monte Sant’ Angelo, at the back of Manfredonia, which was frequently resorted to by the navigator about to leave the shelter of the bay for the dangerous coasts of Dalmatia or the open sea.

The Neapolitan Apennines terminate in the south with the ancient volcano of Monte Vultur (4,356 feet). Farther south the country gradually sinks down into a table-land intersected by deep ravines, which discharge their waters in three directions—towards the Bay of Salerno, the Bay of Taranto, and the Adriatic. The Apennines, far from bifurcating, as shown on old maps, are cut in two by the low saddle of Potenza, and on the peninsula forming the “heel” of Italy only low ridges and terraces are met with.

The peninsula of Calabria, however, is rugged and mountainous. The Apennines, near Lagonegro, again rise above the zone of forests. Monte Polino (7,656 feet) is the highest summit in Naples. The group of which it forms the centre occupies the entire width of the peninsula, and along its western coast it forms a wall of cliffs even less accessible than those of Liguria. Towards the south it opens out into wooded valleys, where the inhabitants collect manna, an esteemed medicinal drug. The deep valley of the Crati separates these mountains from the Sila (5,863 feet), which is composed of granites and schists, and still retains its ancient forests, haunted by brigands. The shepherds who pasture their flocks in the clearings of these woods are said to be the descendants of the Saracens, who formerly occupied this “Country of Rosin,” by which name it was known to the Greeks.

To the south of the isolated Sila the peninsula narrows to a neck of small elevation, where raised beaches attest the successive retreats of the sea. A third mountain mass, of crystalline formation, rises to the south of this depression, its furrowed slopes clad in forests. This is the Aspromonte (6,263 feet), or “rugged mountain.” One of its spurs forms the palm-clad promontory of Spartivento, or “parting of the winds.”

Naples, like Latium, has its volcanic mountains, which form two irregular ranges, one on the continent, the other in the Tyrrhenian Sea, and are, perhaps, connected beneath the sea with the volcanic mountains of the Liparic Islands and Mount Etna. One of these is Mount Vesuvius, the most famous volcano of the world, not because of its height or the terror of its eruptions, but because its history is that of an entire population who have made its lavas their home.

Scarcely have we left the defile of Gaeta and entered upon the paradisiacal Terra di Lavoro than we come upon the first volcano, the Rocca Monfina (3,300 feet), which rises between two calcareous mountains, one of which is the Massico, whose wines have been sung by Horace. No eruption of this volcano is on record, and a village now occupies its shattered crater. To judge from the streams of lava which surround its trachytic cone, its eruptions must have been formidable. The entire Campania is covered to an unascertained depth with ashes ejected from it, and the marine shells found in them prove that the whole of this region must have been upheaved at a comparatively recent epoch.

The hills which rise to the south of the Campania cannot boast of the grandeur of the Rocca Monfina, but they have been looked upon from the most remote times as one of the great curiosities of our earth. Standing upon the commanding height of the Camaldoli (518 feet), the Phlegræan Fields lie at our feet. Acquainted as we now are with the far more formidable volcanoes of Java and the Andes, this verdant sea-bound country may not strike us as a region of horrors. But our Græco-Roman predecessors looked upon it with very different eyes, and being unable to account for the phenomena they witnessed, they ascribed them to the gods. The quaking soil, the flames bursting forth from hidden furnaces, the gaping funnels communicating with unexplored caverns, lakes which disappeared at irregular intervals, and others exhaling deadly gases—all these things left their impress upon ancient mythology and poetry. At the time of Strabo the shores of the Bay of Baiæ had become the favourite resort of voluptuaries, and sumptuous villas rose upon every promontory; but the terrors inspired by hidden flames and mysterious caverns had not yet departed. A dreaded oracle was said to have its seat there, guarded by Cimmerians, to whom strangers desirous of consulting the gods had to apply. These troglodytæ were doomed never to behold the sun, and only quitted their caverns during the night. The Phlegræan Fields were likewise supposed to have been the battle-ground of giants struggling for the possession of the fertile plains of the Campania. During the Middle Ages Pozzuoli was looked upon as the spot from which Christ descended into hell.

The number of craters still distinguishable is twenty. If we were to suppose the country to be deprived of its vegetation, its aspect would resemble that of the surface of the moon. Even the city of Naples occupies an ancient crater, the contours of which have become almost obliterated. To the west of it several old craters can still be traced, one of them occupying a promontory of tufa, surmounted by what is called the tomb of Virgil. Passing through the famous grotto of Posilippo, we find ourselves in the Phlegræan Fields. On our left rises the small conical island of Nisita, its ancient crater invaded by the sea. Farther on we reach the crater known as the Solfatara, the Forum Vulcani of the ancients. Its last eruption took place in 1198, but it still exhales sulphuretted hydrogen. The Park of Astroni lies to the north. The interior slope of its enclosing wall is exceedingly steep, so as to render impossible the escape of the deer and boars which are kept within. The only access is through an artificial breach. Another crater, less regular in shape, is now filled with the bubbling waters of the Lake of Agnano. Near it is the famous Grotto of Dogs, with its spring of carbonic acid. Other springs of gas and sulphurous water rise in the neighbourhood, and to them Pozzuoli is indebted for its name, which is said to mean the “town of stinks.” The town, in turn, has given its name to the earth known as pozzuolana, which supplies an excellent material for the manufacture of cement.

The coast of the bay of Pozzuoli has undergone repeated changes of level, in proof of which the three columns of the temple of Serapis are usually referred to. At a time anterior to the Romans this temple, together with the beach upon which it stands, sank beneath the waters of the sea, and its columns must have been exposed to their action for many years, perhaps centuries, for up to a height of twenty feet they are covered with tubes of serpulæ, and perforated by innumerable holes bored by pholadidæ. In the course of time it rose again slowly above the waters. This happened, perhaps, in 1538, when the Monte Nuovo sprang into existence. In the short period of four days this new volcano, 490 feet in height, rose above the surrounding plain, and buried the village of Tripergola beneath its ashes. A beach now known as La Starza was formed at the foot of the cliffs, and two sheets of water to the west of Monte Nuovo were cut off from the sea. One of these, the Lago Lucrino, is famous for its oysters; the other is the Lago d’Averno, which Virgil, in conformity with antique legends, described as the entrance to the infernal regions. It occupies an ancient crater, and its pellucid waters abound in fish. There are no exhalations of poisonous gases now, and birds fly over the lake with impunity. Still its vicinity is haunted by the memories of the old pagan mythology. Lake Fusaro is referred to by the ciceroni as the Acheron; close to it they point out the den of Cerberus; the sluggish stream of Acqua Morta has been identified with the Cocytus; Lake Lucrino, or rather a spring near it, with the Styx; and the remains of a subterranean passage which connected the Averno with the sea are pointed out as the whilom grotto of the Sibyl. The inhabitants of Cumæ, which was founded by a colony from Chalcis, and the ruins of which still exist on the Mediterranean coast, to the east of Pozzuoli, brought with them the myths of Hellas, and Grecian poetry, which took possession of them, has kept their memory alive.

It is quite proper that this region of Tartarus should have its contrast in Elysian Fields, and this name has actually been bestowed upon a portion of the peninsula of Baiæ, which formed the chief attraction of the voluptuous Romans, and where Marius, Pompey, Cæsar, Augustus, Tiberius, Claudius, Agrippina, Nero, and others had their palaces. Many a fearful tragedy has been enacted in these sumptuous buildings. But hardly a trace of them exists now; nature has resumed possession of the country, and the hills of tufa and volcanoes are the only curiosities of the peninsula. Cape Miseno is one of these old volcanoes, and from its summit may be enjoyed one of the most delightful prospects in the world. The whole of the Bay of Naples—“a bit of heaven fallen upon our earth”—lies spread out beneath us, and Ischia the joyous, formidable Capri, the promontory of Sorrento, Mount Vesuvius, and the houses and villas of Naples fill up the space bounded by the sea and the distant Apennines.

The island of Procida joins the Phlegræan Fields to the chain of island volcanoes lying off the Bay of Gaeta. Ischia is the most important of these, and its volcano, the Epomeo (2,520 feet), almost rivals Mount Vesuvius in height. One of its most formidable eruptions occurred in 1302, at a time when Mount Vesuvius was quiescent, but after the latter resumed its activity Ischia remained in repose. Similarly, when the Monte Nuovo was ejected from the earth, the huge volcano went to sleep for no less a period than one hundred and thirty years. Ischia has known no eruption for five centuries and a half, and the gases escaping from its thirty or forty hot springs are now the only signs of volcanic activity.

Ischia has certainly been upheaved during a comparatively recent epoch, for its trachytic lavas rest in many places upon clays and marls containing marine shells of living Mediterranean species. Some of these have been found at a height of nearly 2,000 feet. At the present time the tufa rocks of Ischia, and of the other volcanic islands to the west of it, are being washed away by the sea. Ventotene, the ancient Pandataria, to which the Roman princesses were exiled, is hardly more now than a heap of scoriæ. Ponza, likewise a place of exile of the Romans, has been separated by the erosive action of the sea into a number of smaller islands. Its lavas overlie Jurassic rocks, similar in all respects to those of Monte Circello on the coast nearest to it.

Mount Vesuvius (4,100 feet), the pride and dread of the Neapolitans, was likewise an island during prehistoric times. The marine shells found in the tufa of Monte Somma prove this, and on the east the volcano is still surrounded by plains but little elevated above the sea. Formerly the mountain was covered with verdure to its very summit, but the explosion of A.D. 79 shattered its cone, and the ashes thrown up into the air shrouded the whole of the country in darkness. Even at Rome the sun was hidden, and an age of darkness was believed to have set in. When at length the light reappeared, the face of the country was found to have undergone a marvellous change. The mountain had lost its shape, the fertile fields were hidden by masses of débris, and entire towns had been buried beneath ashes.

Since that terrible event Mount Vesuvius has vomited lavas and ashes on many occasions. No periodicity has been traced in these outbursts, and the intervals of repose were generally of sufficient duration to enable vegetation to resume its sway. But these eruptions have become more frequent since the seventeenth century, and hardly a decade passes by without one or more of them. Each of them modifies the contours of the mountain, whose great central vent has undergone many changes. The crescent-shaped mass of débris which surrounds the old crater, known as the Atrio del Cavallo, was undoubtedly of loftier height previously to the great outburst of 79 than it is now. The vicinity of Naples has facilitated a study of the phenomena attending volcanic eruptions, and an observatory, permanently occupied, has been built close to the cone of eruption.

The neighbourhood of Mount Vesuvius, like that of all other volcanoes, abounds in hot and gas springs, but there are no subsidiary craters. The nearest volcano is Monte Vultur (4,356 feet), a regular cone on the eastern slope of the peninsula. Its dimensions are larger than those of Vesuvius, but no eruptions are on record, though a slight escape of carbonic acid is still going on from the two lakes which occupy the bottom of its vast crater. On a line connecting Ischia, Vesuvius, and Monte Vultur, and about half-way between the two latter, we meet with the most abundant carbonic acid spring of Italy. The gas escapes with a hissing noise from the pond of Ansanto, and the ground around the spring is covered with the remains of insects, killed in myriads on coming within the influence of the poisonous air. Near it the Romans erected a temple in honour of Juno the Mephitic.

The disasters resulting from volcanic eruptions are great, no doubt, but they are exceeded by those caused by earthquakes. Some of these are unquestionably caused by a subterranean displacement of lava, and thus, when Vesuvius begins to stir, Torre del Greco and other towns at its foot incur the risk of being buried beneath ashes or destroyed by earthquakes. But the Basilicata and Calabria—that is to say, the two provinces lying between the volcanic foci of Vesuvius and Etna—have many times been shaken by earthquakes whose origin cannot be traced to volcanic agencies. Out of a thousand earthquakes recorded in Southern Italy during the last three centuries, nearly all occurred in the provinces named, and they were occasionally attended by the most disastrous results. The earthquake of 1857 cost the lives of 10,000 persons at Potenza and its vicinity, but the most disastrous of these events happened in 1785 in Southern Calabria. The first shock, which proceeded from a focus beneath the town of Oppido, in the Aspromonte Mountains, only lasted a hundred seconds, but within that short space of time 109 towns and villages were overthrown, and 32,000 of their inhabitants buried beneath their ruins. Crevasses opened in the ground; rivers were swallowed up, to reappear again lower down as lakes; liquid clay flowed down the hill-slopes like lava, converting fertile fields into unproductive wastes. The commotion of the sea added to these horrors. Many of the inhabitants of Scilla, afraid to remain on the quaking land, fled to their boats, when an enormous mass of rock detached itself from a neighbouring mountain, and, tumbling into the sea, produced a wave which upset the boats and cast their fragments upon the shore. Want of food brought on famine, and typhus, as usual, came in its train.

We are not yet able to predict earthquakes, and can only provide against them by a suitable construction of our dwellings. There exists, however, another cause of misery and depopulation which the Neapolitans might successfully combat, as was done by their ancestors. In the time of the Greeks the swamps along the coast were certainly less extensive than they are now. War, and a return towards barbarism, have caused the rivers to be neglected, and to produce a deterioration in the climate. Baia, a place once famous on account of its healthiness, has become the home of malaria. Sybaris, the town of luxury and pleasure, has been supplanted by a fever-plain “which eats more men than it is able to nourish.” These paludial miasmata, poverty, and ignorance decimate the population of La Puglia, Basilicata, and Calabria. Even certain Asiatic diseases, such as elephantiasis and leprosy, ravage the country, which, from its rare fertility and fine climate, ought to be in the enjoyment of the greatest prosperity.

Continental Sicily is indeed a favoured region, and its eastern slopes more especially might be converted into one huge garden, for the rainfall there is abundant. Naples enjoys a semi-tropical climate, and its winter temperature is hardly inferior to the annual mean of London. Snow very rarely falls, and only remains on the tops of the hills for a few weeks.101 The vegetation along the coast is of tropical luxuriance. Oranges and lemons bear excellent fruit; date-palms uplift their fan-shaped leaves, and sometimes bear fruit; the American agave stretches forth its candelabra-like branches; sugar-cane, cotton, and other industrial plants, which elsewhere in Europe are scarcely ever met with outside hothouses, grow in the fields. In the forests of Calabria the olive-tree affords as much shade as does the beech with us. Even the bare rocks on the coast yield excellent grapes and garden fruits. Naples, Sicily, Andalusia, and certain districts of Greece and Asia Minor realise our beau idéal of the sub-tropical zone, and only the heaths on the Adriatic slope and the upper valleys of the Apennines remind us that we are still in Central Europe.

This delightful country is inhabited by a people having the most diverse origin. It is now 2,300 years since the Samnites occupied the whole of it from sea to sea. They were more numerous than the Romans, and might have conquered the whole of Italy had there been more cohesion amongst them, and some of that talent for organization which constituted the strength of their adversaries. But they were split into five tribes, each speaking a different dialect; and whilst the Samnites of the hills quarrelled with their kinsmen in the plains, the latter were at enmity with the Hellenized Samnites who lived near the Greek towns on the coast.

The whole of the coast of Southern Italy, from Cumæ—founded more than a thousand years before our era—to Sipuntum, of which some ruins remain near the modern Manfredonia, was dotted with Greek colonies. In these districts of Southern Italy the bulk of the population is of very different origin from that of other parts of the peninsula. To the north of Monte Gargano, Celtic, Etruscan, and Latin elements preponderate, whilst Hellenes, Pelasgians, and kindred races dominate in the south. Not only did civilised Greeks found their colonies there, but the aboriginal population, the Iapygians, spoke a dialect akin to the Hellenic, and Mommsen may be right when he conjectures that these Iapygians were of the same origin as the modern Albanians.

At a subsequent date these southern Italians had to bow down before the Romans, who founded military colonies amongst them, but never succeeded in completely Latinising them. When the Roman Empire fell to pieces the Cæsars of Byzantium still maintained themselves for a long time in Southern Italy, and the Greek language again preponderated, but gradually Romance dialects gained the upper hand. The inhabitants returned to a state of barbarism, but they retained to a great extent their language and customs, and even now there are districts in the south which are Italian in appearance rather than in reality, and in eight villages of the Terra d’Otranto the Hellenic dialect of the Peloponnesus is still spoken. Towns like Naples, Nicastro, Taranto, Gallipoli, Monopoli, and others, whilst preserving their sonorous Greek names, have also retained many features which recall the times of Magna Græcia.

Reggio—that is, the “city of the strait”—appears to have retained the use of Greek much longer than any other town, and its patricians, who boasted of being pure Ionians, still spoke the language of their ancestors towards the close of the thirteenth century. In several remote towns of the interior Greek was formerly in common use. The old popular songs of Bova, a small town near the southern extremity of Italy, are in an Ionian dialect more like the language of Xenophon than is modern Greek. Down to a very recent date the peasants near Roccaforte del Greco, Condofuri, and Cardeto spoke Greek, and when they appeared before a magistrate they required an interpreter. At the present day all young people speak Italian; the old language has been forgotten, but the Greek type remains. The men and women of Cardeto are famous for their beauty, more especially the latter. “They are Minervas,” we are told by a local historian. Their principal livelihood consists in acting as wet nurses to the children of the citizens of Reggio. The women of Bagnara, between Scilla and Palmi, are likewise of wondrous beauty, but their features are stern, betraying Arab blood, and they are destitute of the noble placidity of the Greek.

It is said that the women of the Hellenic villages of Calabria are still in the habit of executing a sacred dance, which lasts for hours, and resembles the representations we meet with on ancient vases, only they dance before the church instead of the temple, and their ceremonies are blessed by Christian priests. Funerals are accompanied by weeping women, who collect their tears in lachrymatories. Elsewhere, as in the environs of Tarento, the children consecrate the hair of their head to the manes of their ancestors. Old morals, no less than old customs, have been preserved. Woman is still looked upon as an inferior being, and even at Reggio the wives of citizens or noblemen who respect ancient tradition confine themselves to the gynæceum. They do not visit the theatre, go out but rarely, and when they walk abroad are attended by barefooted servants, and not by their husbands.

In addition to Samnites, Iapygians, and Greeks, who form the bulk of the population of Southern Italy, we meet with Etruscans in the Campania; Saracens in the peninsula of Gargano, in the Campania, the marina of Reggio, Bagnara, and other coast towns; Lombards in Benevento, who retained their language down to the eleventh century; Normans, from whom the shepherds on the hills are supposed to be descended; and Spaniards in several coast towns, especially at Barletta, in Apulia. The Albanians have probably furnished the largest contingent of all the strangers now domiciled in Southern Italy. They are numerous on the whole of the eastern slope of the peninsula, from the promontory of Gargano to the southernmost point of Calabria. One of their clans came to Italy in 1440, but the bulk of them only arrived during the second half of the fifteenth century, after the heroic resistance made by Scanderbeg had been overcome by the Turks. The conquered Skipetars were then compelled to expatriate themselves in order to escape the yoke of the Turks, and they were received with open arms by the Kings of Naples, who granted them several deserted villages, which are now amongst the most flourishing of Southern Italy. The descendants of these Skipetars, who are principally domiciled in the Basilicata and Calabria, rank among the most useful citizens of the country. They take the lead in the intellectual regeneration of the old kingdom of Naples, and were the first to join the liberating army of Garibaldi. Many have become Italianised, but there are still over 80,000 who have neither forgotten their origin nor their language.

The Neapolitans are undoubtedly one of the finest races of Europe. The Calabrians, the mountaineers of Molise, and the peasants of the Basilicata are so well proportioned, erect, supple of limb, and agile, that their low stature, as compared with the races of the North, can hardly be a subject of reproach; and the nobility and expression of the faces of Neapolitan women fully compensate for the irregularity we frequently meet with. The faces of the children, with their large black eyes and well-formed lips, beam with intelligence, but the wretched existence to which too many of them are condemned soon degrades their physiognomy. Supremely ignorant, the Neapolitan is, nevertheless, most admirably gifted by nature. The country which has produced so many great men since the days of Pythagoras is in nowise inferior to any other; its philosophers, historians, and lawyers have exercised a powerful influence upon the march of human thought; and the number of great musicians which it has produced is proportionately large.

Still, in many respects, the inhabitants of Southern Italy hold the lowest rank amongst the nations of Europe. Ever since the annihilation of the Greek republican cities the country has been subjected to foreign masters, who have either devastated it or systematically oppressed its inhabitants. With the exception of Amalfi, no other town was granted the privilege of governing itself for any length of time. The very position of the country exposed it to dangers. Placed in the centre of the Mediterranean, it was on the high-road of every pirate or invader, whether Saracen or Norman, Spaniard or Frenchman, and the absence of any natural cohesion between its various districts prevented its population from organizing a united resistance against the attacks of foreign invaders. Southern Italy has not the river basins of Lombardy, Tuscany, Umbria, or Rome; there exists no centre of gravity, so to say, and the country is split up into separate sections having nothing in common.

The government under which the Neapolitans lived until quite recently was most humiliating. “I do not require my people to think,” said King Ferdinand II. of Naples. Ideas which did not commend themselves to the authorities were punished as crimes, and only mendicity and moral depravity were allowed to flourish. Science was compelled to live in retirement; history to seek a refuge in the catacombs of archæology; and literature was corrupt or frivolous. Of the Neapolitans who did not expatriate themselves only a very small number became eminent. Schools were hardly known outside the large towns, and where they did exist they were placed under the supervision of the police. Men able to read and write were looked at askance, and, to escape being accused of belonging to some secret society, they were compelled to turn hypocrites. Old superstitions exist in full force, and the heathen hallucinations of Greeks and Iapygians still survive. The idolatrous Neapolitan casts himself down before the statue of St. Januarius, but heaps imprecations upon the head of his saint if his miraculous blood does not quickly liquefy. Similar superstitions exist in nearly every town of Naples. Every one of them has its patron saint or deity, who, if he should fail to protect his people, is treated as a common enemy. As recently as 1858 the villagers of Calabria, irritated by a drought, put their venerated saints into prison; and Barletta, about the same period, had the melancholy honour of being the last town in Europe in which Protestants were burned alive. Such is the fanaticism still met with in the second half of the nineteenth century! 102

One of the great superstitions of the Neapolitans refers to the “evil eye.” The unfortunate being who happens to have a nose like a battle-axe and large round eyes is looked upon as jettatore, and is avoided as a fatal being. If by any evil chance his glance happens to fall upon any unfortunate person, it is considered necessary to counteract it by the influence of an amulet resembling the fascinum of the ancients, or by some other means no less potent. Coral amulets are looked upon as most efficient, and many who pretend not to believe in their virtues are the first to make use of them. The peasants of Calabria wear an image of their patron saint upon the chest, and shield their cattle and houses by means of the images of saints or household gods. At Reggio a cactus may be seen near the door or on the balcony of every house, which has been placed there to keep off evil influences, and is universally known as l’albero del mal’ occhio (the tree of the evil eye).

Next to superstition, the great scourge of Southern Italy is brigandage. The very name of Calabria conjures up in our imagination picturesque brigands armed with carbines. Unfortunately this Calabrian brigand is no myth, invented to serve the purposes of the stage. He really exists, and neither the severity of the laws put in motion against him nor political changes have brought about his extermination. On many occasions, after a successful hunt for brigands had been carried on, the authorities felicitated themselves upon having rid the country of this scourge, but it regularly revived.

In Sardinia and Corsica the peasant takes up arms from a desire for vengeance, but in Calabria from poverty. Feudalism, though abolished in name, still flourishes in that country. Nearly the whole of the soil belongs to a few great landowners, and the peasant, or cafore, is condemned to a life of ill-remunerated toil. In years of plenty, when the rye, chestnuts, and wine suffice for the wants of his family, he works without grumbling, but in years of dearth brigandage flourishes. The brigand, or gualano, looks upon the feudal lord as the common enemy, steals his cattle, sets fire to his house, and even takes him prisoner, releasing him only on payment of a heavy ransom. Some of these bandits become veritable wild beasts, thirsting after blood; but, as long as they confine themselves to avenging wrongs, they may count upon the complicity of all other peasants. The herdsmen of the mountains supply them with milk and food, furnish them with information, and mislead the carabiniers sent in pursuit of them. All the poor are leagued in their favour, and refuse to bear witness against them. Moreover, most of these Neapolitan bandits, conscientious in their own way, are extremely pious. They swear by the Virgin or some patron saint, to whom they promise a portion of their booty, and religiously place the share promised upon the altar. Not content with wearing amulets all over the body to turn aside bullets, they are said sometimes to place a consecrated wafer in an incision they make in their hand, in the belief that this will render deadly their own bullets.

The fearful poverty of the South Italian peasantry has led to another practice, even worse than brigandage. Foreign speculators, Christians as well as Jews, travel the country, and particularly the Basilicata, in order to purchase children, whom their poverty-stricken parents are ready to part with for a trifle. The more intelligent and prettier the child, the greater the likelihood of its passing into the hands of these dealers in human flesh. The latter are threatened with the penalties of the law, but custom and ignoble accomplices enable them to evade them, and to carry their living merchandise to France, England, Germany, and even America, where the children are converted into acrobats, street musicians, or simple mendicants. The chances of this shameful commerce have been carefully calculated, and the losses arising from deaths and the cost of travelling are more than covered by the earnings of the children. Viggiano, a small town of the Basilicata, is more especially haunted by these traffickers, for its inhabitants possess a natural gift for music.

Voluntary emigration is on the increase, and if it were not for the obstructions placed in the way of young men liable to the conscription, certain districts would become rapidly depopulated in favour of South America. Only the poorest peasants remain behind. This emigration influences in a large measure the customs of the country, and, conjointly with railways and factories, will no doubt bring about an assimilation of Southern Italy to the rest of the peninsula. Brigandage and the traffic in children will doubtless disappear, but the proletarianism of manufacturing towns is likely to be substituted for them.

For the present Naples is almost exclusively an agricultural country. The tavolieri of Puglia, and the hills which command them, remain for the most part a pastoral country, but the greater portion of the productive area of Naples is under cultivation. As in the time of the Romans, cereals, with oil and wine, form the principal produce; but, in addition to these, tobacco, cotton, madder, and several other plants used in manufactures, are grown. With some care these products might attain a rare degree of excellence. Even now the oil of the Puglia competes successfully with that of Nice, and the wines grown on the scoriæ of Mount Vesuvius enjoy their ancient celebrity, the Falernian of Horace, grown in the Phlegræan Fields, disputing the pre-eminence with the Lachrymæ Christi of Vesuvius and the white wine of Capri.

The agricultural products of Naples are almost exclusively derived from the coast region, and commerce is principally carried on in coasting vessels. The interior is sterile to a great extent, and there are no metalliferous veins to attract population.

Southern Italy has no natural centre, and, as its life has at all times been eccentric and maritime, it is but natural that all the large towns should have sprung up on the coast. Two thousand years ago, when Greece was a civilised country and Western Europe sunk in barbarism, the most important towns lay on the Ionian Sea facing the east. But, when Rome became the mistress of the world, Magna Græcia was forced to face about, and Naples became the successor of Sybaris and Tarentum. This position of vantage it has retained even to the present day, when Western Europe has become the focus of civilisation. The wave of history has passed over Tarentum and Sybaris, and whilst the fine port of the former is now deserted, the latter, at one time the largest city of all Italy, has entirely disappeared.

Naples, the “new town” of the Cumæans, has for centuries been the most populous town of Italy, and even now the number of its inhabitants is double that of Rome. In the days of Strabo Naples was a large town. Greeks who had made money by teaching or otherwise, and who desired to end their days in peaceful repose, used to retire to that beautiful town, where Greek manners predominated, and the climate resembled that of their native country. Many Romans followed their example, and Naples, together with the numerous smaller towns dotting the shores of its magnificent bay, thus became a place of repose and pleasure. At the present day it attracts men of leisure from every part of the world, who revel in its beauties and enjoy the noisy gaiety of its inhabitants—“masters in the art of shouting,” as Alfieri called them. The prospect from the heights of Capodimonte and the other hills surrounding the immense city is full of beauty: promontories jut out into the blue waters, islands of the most varied colours are scattered over the bay, shining towns stretch along the foot of verdant hills, and vessels ride upon the waves. Looking inland, we behold the grey summit of Vesuvius, which, lurid at night, and always threatening, imparts a modicum of danger to the voluptuous picture.

The Neapolitans are indeed a happy people, if such a term may be applied to any fraction of mankind. They know how to enjoy the gifts of nature, and are content, if need be, with very little. Naturally intelligent, they are equal to any enterprise; but, as they hate work, they soon give up what they have begun, and make short of their want of success. Travellers were formerly fond of describing that curious type, the lazzarone, the idle man of pleasure, who, enveloped in a rag, slept on the beach or in the porch of a church, and disdained to work after he had earned the pittance sufficing for his simple wants. There still remain a few representatives of this type, but the material exigencies of our time have absorbed the majority of these idle tatterdemalions, and converted them into labourers. Others have succumbed to disease, for they knew nothing of sanitary laws, and dwelt in damp cellars, or bassi, beneath the palaces of the wealthy. Naples contributes her fair share towards the industrial products of the peninsula. The principal articles manufactured are macaroni and other farinaceous pastes, cloth, silks known as gros de Naples, glass, china, musical instruments, artificial flowers, ornaments, and everything entering into the daily consumption of a large city. Its workers in coral are famous for their skill; and Sorrento, near Naples, supplies the much-prized workboxes, jewel cases, and other articles carved in palm-wood. The ship-yards of Castellamare di Stabia are more busy than any others in Italy, those of Genoa and Spezia alone excepted. The sailors of the bay are equal to the Ligurians in seamanship, and surpass them as fishermen. The inhabitants of Torre del Greco, who engage in coral-fishing, are well acquainted with the submarine topography of the coasts of Sardinia, Sicily, and Barbary, and the least movement of the air or water reveals phenomena to them which remain hidden to all other eyes. They own about 400 fishing-boats, which depart in a body, and their return after a successful season presents a spectacle which even Italy but rarely affords.103

Naples, with its magnificent bay, and the fertile tracts of the Campania and the Terra di Lavoro near it, could hardly fail to become a great commercial city, and if it holds an inferior rank in that respect to Genoa, this is owing to its not being placed upon a great high-road of international commerce. The country depending upon it is of comparatively small extent; only a single line of rails crosses the Apennines; and travellers who follow the mountain road to Taranto are not, even now, quite safe from brigands. The foreign commerce of the city is carried on principally with England and France, and the coasting trade is comparatively of great importance.104

The university is one of the glories of Naples. Founded in the first half of the thirteenth century, it is one of the oldest of Italy, but has had its periods of disgraceful decay. Up to a recent period, when archæology and numismatics were the only sciences not suspected of revolutionary tendencies, it was a place of intellectual corruption, but its regeneration has been brought about with marvellous rapidity. The young Neapolitans now study science with a zest sharpened by abstinence; and, if the rather gushing eloquence of the South could be trusted, Naples has become the greatest seat of learning in the world. Thus much is certain, that the 2,000 students of the university will give a great impulse to the “march of ideas.”

Naples possesses an admirable museum of antiquities, open to all the world, and, more precious still, the ruins of Pozzuoli, Baiæ, and Cumæ, and catacombs no less interesting than are those of Rome; and, above everything else, the Roman city of Pompeii, which has been excavated from the ashes of Mount Vesuvius, beneath which it lay buried for seventeen centuries. It is not merely a City of the Dead, with its streets and tombs, temples, markets, and amphitheatres, which these excavations have restored to us, but they have likewise given us an insight into the life of a provincial Roman city. When we gaze upon inscriptions on walls and waxed tablets, at work interrupted, at mummified corpses in the attitude of flight, we almost feel as if we had been present at the catastrophe which overwhelmed the town. No other buried city ever presented us with so striking a contrast between the tumult of life and the stillness of death. In spite of a hundred years of excavation, only one-half of the city has yet been revealed to us. Herculaneum is buried beneath a layer of lava sixty feet in thickness, upon which the houses of Resina, Portici, and other suburbs of Naples have been built, and but very few of its mysteries have been revealed to us. Of Stabiæ, which lies hidden beneath the town of Castellamare, close to the beach, we know hardly anything.

Numerous populous towns cluster around Naples, rivalling it in beauty. To the south, on the shores of the bay, are Portici, Resina, Torre del Greco, Torre dell’ Annunziata, Castellamare, and sweet Sorrento, with its delicious climate, its delightful villas and olive groves. Off Cape Campanella, facing the volcanic islands of Ischia and Procida, at the other extremity of the bay, rise the bold cliffs of Capri, full of the memories of hideous Tiberius, the Timberio of the natives. Another bay opens to the south of that barren mass of limestone, its entrance guarded by the islets of the Sirens, who sought in vain to cast their spell over sage Ulysses. This bay is hardly inferior in beauty to that of Naples; its shores are equally fertile, but neither of the three cities, Pæstum, Amalfi, and Salerno, which successively gave a name to it, has retained its importance for any length of time. Amalfi, the powerful commercial republic of the Middle Ages, whose code was accepted by all maritime nations, is almost deserted now, and only shelters a few fishing-smacks within its rocky creek. In a delightful valley near it stands the old Moorish city of Ravello, almost as rich as Palermo in architectural monuments. Salerno is much more favourably situated than Amalfi, for the road of the Campania debouches upon it. The town is said to have been founded by a son of Noah, and when the Normans occupied the country in the eleventh century they made it their capital. But its ancient splendours have gone. Its university, at one time the representative of Arab science, and the most famous in Europe for its medical faculty, has made no sign for ages, and Salerno has now no claim whatever to the title of “Hippocratic town.” It aspires, however, to rise into importance through commerce and industry, and a breakwater and piers might convert it into a formidable rival of Naples. The inhabitants are fond of repeating a local proverb—

“When Salerno a port doth obtain
That of Naples will be inane.”

Pæstum, or Posidonia, the ancient mistress of the bay, stood to the south-east of Salerno. It was founded by the Sybarites on the ruins of a more ancient town of the Tyrrhenians. The Roman poets sang this “city of roses” on account of its cool springs, shady walks, and mild climate. It was destroyed by the Saracens in 915, and its ruins, though amongst the most interesting of all Italy, dating as they do from a period anterior to that of Rome, were known only to shepherds and brigands up to the middle of last century. Its three temples, the most important of which was dedicated to Neptune, or Poseidon, are amongst the most imposing of continental Italy, their effect being heightened by the solitude which surrounds them and the waves which wash their foundations. The traveller, however, cannot afford to remain for any length of time within their vicinity, for the site of the ruins is surrounded by marshes, the exhalations from which sadly interfere with the excavations going on.

Numerous towns and villages are dotted over the champaign country separating Mount Vesuvius from the foot-hills of the Apennines. Starting from Vietri, a suburb of Salerno on the banks of a narrow ravine, we ascend to Cara, a favourite summer retreat, abounding in shade-trees. Near it is a monastery famous amongst antiquaries on account of its ancient parchments and diplomas. On descending to the plain of the Sarno we pass Nocera, a country residence of the ancient Romans; Pagani, still situated within the region of woods; Angri, which manufactures yarns from cotton grown in its environs; and Scafati, more industrious still. Near it may be seen the ruins of Pompeii, the town of Torre dell’ Annunziata, and, on the southern slope of Vesuvius, the houses of Bosco Tre Case and Bosco Reale. There are savants who believe they can trace in the veins of the inhabitants of Nocera and the neighbourhood the Arab and Berber blood of the 20,000 Saracens who were settled here by the Emperor Frederick II.

The valley of the Sarno, above Nocera, is densely peopled as far as the foot of the Apennines, and another chain of villages extends northwards to the town of Avellino, the fields of which are enclosed by hedges of filbert-trees (avellana in Italian), and which is important on account of its intermediary position between the mountains and the plain. The population, however, is densest in that portion of the Campania known as the “Happy” (Felice), which extends between Vesuvius and Monte Vergine. Sarno, named after the river, though far away from it, abounds in cereals, vines, fruit, and vegetables, and manufactures cotton stuffs and raw silk. Palma stands in the midst of fertile fields; Ottajano, the town of Octavius, on the lower slope of the Somma of Vesuvius, is famous for its wines; Nola, where Augustus died, and which gave birth to Giordano Bruno, has fertile fields, but is better known through the fine Greek vases found in its ruins, and on account of the remains of an amphitheatre built of marble, and of greater size than that of Capua.

Famous Capua, the ancient metropolis of the Campania, at one time the rival of Rome, with half a million inhabitants dwelling within its walls, has been completely stripped of its former splendours. Its name is applied now to a sullen fortress on the Volturno, the Casilinum of the Romans; and Santa Maria, which is the representative of the veritable Capua, offers no “delights” other than those of a large village. In its environs, however, may still be seen the ruins of a fine amphitheatre, a triumphal arch, and other remains of a vast city. Caserta, the “town of pleasure” of the modern Campania, lies farther to the south. It boasts of a large palace, shady parks, and vast gardens ornamented with statues and fountains, and was the Versailles of the Neapolitan Bourbons. An aqueduct supplies it with water from a distance of twenty-five miles, and crosses the valley near Maddaloni by means of a magnificent bridge, built about the middle of last century by Vanvitelli, and one of the masterpieces of modern architecture.

The great Roman highway bifurcates to the north of Capua and the Volturno. One branch turns towards the coast; the other, along which a railway has been built, skirts the volcano of Rocca Monfina, follows the valley of the Garigliano and of its tributary the Sacco as far as the eastern foot of the volcano of Latium, and then descends into the Campagna of Rome. Historically the coast road is the more famous of the two. It first passes close to Sessa, the ancient city of the Aurunci, whose acropolis stood in the crater of the Rocca Monfina. It then turns towards the coast, and having crossed the Garigliano near its mouth, where it is bounded by insalubrious marshes, it penetrates the defile of Mola di Gaeta, officially called Formia, in memory of ancient Formiæ, where Cicero lived and died. Travellers coming from Rome first look down from this spot upon the beauties of the Campania, and see stretched out before them the Bay of Gaeta, with the volcanic islands of Ponza, Ventotene, and Ischia in the distance. Gaeta, a fortress which guards this gateway to the Neapolitan paradise, is built on the summit of Monte Orlando, occupying a small peninsula attached to the mainland by an isthmus only 300 yards in width. The port of Gaeta is well sheltered against westerly and northerly winds, and is much frequented by coasting vessels and fishing-smacks; but Gaeta itself is better known as a fortress. It was here the kingdom of the Two Sicilies was put an end to by the surrender of Francis II. in 1861.

Towns of some importance are likewise met with on following the eastern road from Naples to Rome. The most considerable amongst them is San Germano, the name of which has recently been changed into Casino, in honour of the famous monastery of that name occupying a terrace to the west of the town, and affording a glorious prospect of hills and valleys. This monastery was founded in the sixth century by St. Benedict, or Bennet, and its rules have been accepted throughout the Eastern Church. No body of men has ever exercised a greater influence upon the history of Catholicism than these Benedictine monks of Monte Casino. At the height of its power the order held vast estates throughout Italy, and many popes and thousands of Church dignitaries have been furnished from its ranks. The library of Monte Casino is one of the most valuable in Europe, and the services formerly rendered to science by the Benedictines have saved this monastery from disestablishment, a favour likewise extended to the monastery of La Cava and the Certosa of Pavia.

There are but few towns of importance in the mountain region of Naples. Arpino, the ancient Arpinum, the birthplace of Cicero and Marius, with cyclopean walls built by Saturn, is the most populous place in the upper valley of the Liri, to the south of the mountains of Mantese. Benevento occupies a central position on the Calore, the principal tributary of the Volturno, and several roads diverge from it. The ancient name of this place was Maleventum, but in spite of its change of name the town has frequently suffered from sieges and earthquakes, and of all the great edifices of its past there now remains only a fine triumphal arch erected in honour of Trajan. The city walls, nearly four miles in circumference, have for the most part been constructed from the fragments of ancient monuments.

Ariano, to the east of Benevento, and also in the basin of the Volturno, is built upon three hills commanding a magnificent prospect, extending from the often snow-clad Matese Mountains to the cone of the Vultur. It lies on the railroad connecting Naples with Foggia and the Adriatic, and carries on a considerable trade. Campobasso, the capital of Molise, is likewise an important commercial intermediary, though still without a railway.

The commercial towns on the Adriatic slope of the Apennines are of greater importance than those to the east. Foggia, on the Tavoglieri di Puglia, upon which converge four railways and several high-roads, is a great mart for provisions, and in importance and wealth, though not in population, is the second city of Naples. Several smaller towns surround it like satellites, such as San Severo, Cerignola, and Lucera, which became wealthy in the thirteenth century, when the Saracens, exiled from Sicily by Frederick II., settled here. Foggia, however, and its sister cities, in spite of the proximity of the Bay of Manfredonia, have no direct outlet to the sea, for the coast for a distance of thirty miles, from Manfredonia to the mouth of the Otranto, is fringed by insalubrious lagoons and marshes. The reclamation of these is absolutely necessary to enable Southern Italy to develop its great natural resources. The largest of these lagoons or marshes, that of Salpi, has been reduced to the extent of one-half by the alluvium conveyed into it by the rivers Carapella and Ofanto, but as long as the new land remains uncultivated deadly miasmata will not cease. At the eastern extremity of this marsh stood the ancient city of Salapia.

At the extremity of the peninsula of Gargano, to the north of these marshes, are the harbours of Manfredonia and Vieste, very favourably situated for sailing vessels compelled by stress of weather to put into port. The first harbour to the south of the marshes is Barletta, near which is the “Field of Blood,” recalling the battle of Cannæ. Barletta exports cereals, wines, oil, and fruit, partly grown on the old feudal estates near the inland towns of Andria, Corata, and Ruyo. The latter, the ancient Rubi, has yielded a rich harvest of antiquities of every kind. The other coast towns to the south-east of Barletta are—Trani, which carried on a considerable Levant trade towards the close of the Middle Ages; Bisceglia; Molfetta; Bari, the most populous town on the Adriatic slope of Naples; and Monopoli, all of which are much frequented by coasting vessels. Tasano, near Monopoli, occupies the site of the ancient port of Gnatia, and, like Rubi, has well repaid the search for archæological remains.

Brindisi, at the northern extremity of the peninsula of Otranto, in the time of the Romans and during the Crusades, was one of the great stations on the route from Western Europe to the East, and is likely again to occupy that position. It lies at the very entrance to the Adriatic. Its roadstead is excellent, and its harbour one of the best on the Mediterranean. The entrance is narrow, and was formerly choked up with the remains of wrecks and mud, but is now practicable for steamers of the largest size. The two arms of the harbour bear some resemblance to the antlers of a stag, and to this circumstance the town is indebted for its name, which is of Messapian origin, and means “antler-shaped.” Brindisi has recently become the European terminus of the overland route to India, and many new buildings have risen in honour of this event, which it was expected would convert the town into an emporium of Eastern trade. These expectations have not been realised. Several thousand hurried travellers pass that way every year, but Marseilles, Genoa, and Trieste have lost none of their importance as commercial ports in consequence. Moreover, when the Turkish railways are completed, the position now held by Brindisi will most likely be transferred to Saloniki or Constantinople.105

Taranto, on the gulf of the same name, is making an effort, like its neighbour Brindisi, to revive its ancient commercial activity. Its harbour, the Piccolo Mare, or “little sea,” is deep and perfectly sheltered, and its roadstead, or Mare Grande, is fairly protected by two outlying islands against the surge. As at Spezia, springs of fresh water, known as Citro and Citrello, rise from the bottom of the harbour as well as in the roadstead. The geographical position of Taranto enables it successfully to compete with Bari and the other ports of the Adriatic for the commerce of inland towns like Matera, Gravina, and Altamura, and it appears to be destined to become the great emporium for the Ionian trade. No other town of Italy offers equal facilities for the construction of a port, but the two channels, one natural and the other artificial, which join the two “seas” have become choked, and only small craft are now able to reach the harbour. Modern Taranto is a small town, with narrow streets, built to the east of the Greek city of Tarentum, on the limestone rock bounded by the two channels. Its commerce has been slowly increasing since the opening of the railway, its industry being limited to fishing, oyster-dredging, and the manufacture of bay-salt; and the Tarantese enjoy the reputation of being the most indolent people in Italy. The heaps of shells on the beach no longer supply the purple for which the town was formerly famous; but the inhabitants still make use of the byssus of a bivalve in the manufacture of very strong gloves.

The only towns of any importance in the peninsula stretching southwards from Brindisi and Taranto are Lecco and Gallipoli, the former surrounded by cotton plantations, the latter—the Kallipolis, or “beautiful city,” of the Greeks—picturesquely perched on an islet attached by a bridge to the mainland. The surrounding country, owing to the want of moisture, is comparatively barren.

The western peninsula of Naples is far better irrigated than that of Otranto, but this advantage is counterbalanced to a large extent by the mountainous nature of the country, and by its frequent earthquakes. Potenza, a town at the very neck of this peninsula, half-way between the Gulf of Taranto and the Bay of Salerno, most happily situated as a place of commerce, has repeatedly been destroyed by earthquakes, and its inhabitants have only ventured to rebuild it in a temporary manner.

The famous old cities of Calabria, such as Metapontum and Heraclea, have ceased to exist. Sybaris the powerful, with walls six miles in circumference, and suburbs extending for eight miles along the Crati, is now covered with alluvium and shrubs—“its very ruins have perished.” The city of the Locri, to the south of Gerace, which existed until the tenth century, when it was destroyed by the Saracens, has at least retained ruins of its walls, temples, and other buildings. The only one of these old cities still in existence is Cotrone, the ancient Crotona, the “gateway to the granary of Calabria.” In travelling along the coasts of Greater Greece we feel astonished at the few ruins of a past which exercised so powerful an influence upon the history of mankind.

The existing towns of Calabria cannot compare in importance with those of a past age. Rossano, near the site of Sybaris, is the small capital of a district, and is visited only by coasters. Cosenza, in the beautiful valley of the Crati, at the foot of the wooded Sila, keeps up its communications with Naples and Messina through the harbour of Paola. Catanzaro exports its oil, silk, and fruit either by way of the Bay of Squillace, on the shores of which Hannibal once pitched his camp, or through Pizzo, a small port at the southern extremity of the Bay of Santa Eufemia. Reggio, nestling in groves of lemon and orange trees at the foot of the Aspromonte, is the most important town of Calabria. It stands on the narrow strait separating the mainland from the island of Sicily, and could not fail to absorb some of the commerce passing through that central gateway of the Mediterranean. Messina and Reggio mutually complement each other, and the prosperity of the one must result in that of the sister city.106

VII — Sicily

The Trinacria of the ancients, the island with the “three promontories,” is clearly a dependency of the Italian peninsula, from which it is separated by a narrow arm of the sea. The Strait of Messina, where narrowest, is not quite two miles in width. It can be easily crossed in barges, and, with the resources at our command, a bridge might easily be thrown across it, similar enterprises having succeeded elsewhere. It can hardly be doubted that before the close of this century either a tunnel or a bridge will join Sicily to the mainland, and human industry will thus restore in some way the isthmus which formerly joined the Cape of Faro to the Italian Aspromonte. We know nothing about the period when this rupture took place, but to judge from the ancient name of the strait—Heptastadion—it must have been much narrower in former times.107

From an historical point of view Sicily may still be looked upon as a portion of the mainland, for the strait can be crossed almost as easily as a wide river. On the other hand, it enjoys all the advantages of a maritime position. Situate in the very centre of the Mediterranean, between the Tyrrhenian and the eastern basin, it commands all the commercial high-roads which lead from the Atlantic to the East. Its excellent harbours invite navigators to stay on its coasts; its soil is exceedingly fertile; the most varied natural resources insure the existence of its inhabitants; and a genial climate promotes the development of life. Hardly a district of Europe appears to be in a more favourable position for supporting a dense population in comfort. Sicily, indeed, is more densely populated and wealthier than the neighbouring island of Sardinia or either of the Neapolitan provinces, the Campania alone excepted, and rivals in importance the provinces of Northern Italy.108

Sicily, whenever it has been allowed to rejoice in the possession of peace and freedom, has always recovered with wonderful rapidity; and it would certainly now be one of the most prosperous countries if wars had not so frequently devastated it, and the yoke of foreign oppressors had not weighed so heavily upon it.

The triangular island of Sicily would possess great regularity of structure if it were not for the bold mass of Mount Etna, which rises above the shores of the Ionian Sea at the entrance of the Strait of Messina. From its base to the summit of its crater, that huge protuberance forms a region apart, differing from the rest of Sicily not only geologically, but also with respect to its products, cultivation, and inhabitants.

Ancient mariners mostly looked upon the Sicilian volcano as the highest mountain in the world; nor did they err much as respects the world known to them, for only at the two extremities of the Mediterranean, in Spain and Syria, do we meet with mountains exceeding this one in height; and Mount Etna is not only remarkable from its isolated position, but likewise by the beauty of its contours, the lurid sheen of its incandescent lavas, and the column of smoke rising from its summit. From whatever side we approach Sicily, its snowy head is seen rising high above all the surrounding mountains. Its position in the very centre of the Mediterranean contributed in no small measure to secure to it a pre-eminence amongst mountains. It was looked upon as the “pillar of the heavens,” and at a later epoch the Arabs only spoke of it as el Jebel, “the mountain,” which has been corrupted by the people dwelling near it into “Mongibello.”

The mean slopes of Mount Etna, prolonged as they are by streams of lava extending in every direction, are very gentle, and on looking at a profile of this mountain it will hardly be believed that its aspect is so majestic. It occupies, in fact, an area of no less than 460 square miles, and its base has a development of about 80 miles. The whole of this space is bounded by the sea, and by the valleys of the Alcantara and Simeto. A saddle, only 2,820 feet in height, connects it in the north-west with the mountain system of the remainder of Italy. Small cones of eruption are met with beyond the mass of the volcano to the north of the Alcantara, and streams of lava having filled up the ancient valley of the Simeto, that river was forced to excavate itself another bed through rocks of basalt, and now descends to the sea in rapids and cascades.

An enormous hollow, covering an area of ten square miles, and more than 3,000 feet in depth, occupies a portion of the western slope of the volcano. This is the Val di Bove, a vast amphitheatre of explosion, the bottom of which is dotted over with subsidiary craters, and which rises in gigantic steps, over which, when the mountain is in a state of eruption, pour fiery cascades of lava. Lyell has shown that this Val di Bove is the ancient crater of Mount Etna, but that, at some period not known to us, the existing terminal vent opened a couple of miles farther west. The steep sides of the Val di Bove enable us to gain a considerable insight into the history of the volcano, for the various layers of lava may be studied there at leisure. The cliffs upon which stands the town of Aci Reale afford a similar opportunity for embracing at one glance a long period of its history. These cliffs, over 300 feet in height, consist of seven distinct layers of lava, successively poured forth from the bowels of Mount Etna. Each layer consists nearly throughout of a compact mass, affording no hold for the roots of plants, but their surfaces have invariably been converted into tufa, or even mould, owing to atmospheric agencies which operated for centuries after each eruption. It has likewise been proved not only that these cliffs increased in height in consequence of successive eruptions, but that they were also repeatedly upheaved from below. Lines of erosion resulting from the action of the waves can be distinctly traced at various elevations above the present level of the Mediterranean. The lavas, too, have undergone a change of structure since they were poured forth, as is proved by beautiful caverns enclosed by prismatic columns of basalt, and by the islet of the Cyclops, near Aci Trezza.

During the last two thousand years Mount Etna has had more than a hundred eruptions, some of them continuing for a number of years. Hitherto it has not been possible to trace any regularity in these eruptions. They appear to occur at irregular intervals, and the quantity of lava poured forth from the principal or any subsidiary cone varies exceedingly. The most considerable stream of lava of which we have any record was that which overwhelmed the city of Catania in 1669. It first converted the fields of Nicolosi into a fiery lake, then enveloped a portion of the hill of Monpilieri, which for a time arrested its progress, and finally divided into three separate streams, the principal of which descended upon Catania. It swept away a part of that town, filled up its port, and formed a promontory in its stead. The quantity of lava poured forth on that occasion has been estimated at 3,532 millions of cubic feet; and nearly 40 square miles of fertile land, supporting a population of 20,000 souls, were converted into a stony waste. The double cone of Monti Rossi, with its beautiful crater now grown over with golden-flowered broom, was formed by the ashes ejected during that great eruption. More than 700 subsidiary cones, similar to the Monti Rossi, are scattered over the exterior slopes of Mount Etna, and bear witness to as many eruptions. The most ancient amongst them have been nearly obliterated in the course of ages, or buried beneath streams of lava, but the others still retain their conical shape, and rise to a height of many hundred feet. Several amongst them are now covered with forests, and the craters of others have been converted into gardens—delightful cup-shaped hollows, where villas shine like gems set in verdure.

Most of these subsidiary cones lie at an elevation of between 3,300 and 6,500 feet above the sea, and it is there the internal forces make themselves most strongly felt. As a rule the subterranean activity is less violent near the summit, and during most of the eruptions the great terminal crater merely serves as a vent, through which the aqueous vapours and gases make their escape. Fumaroles surrounding it convert the soil into a kind of pap, and the substances which escape from them streak the scoriæ with brilliant colours—scarlet, yellow, and emerald green. The internal heat makes itself felt on many parts of the exterior slopes. It converts loose rocks into a compact mass, far less difficult to climb than are the loose cinders of Mount Vesuvius. Travellers ascending the mountain need fear nothing from volcanic bombs. Showers of stone are occasionally ejected from the principal vent, but this is quite an exceptional occurrence. If it were not so, the small structure above the precipices of the Val di Bove, which dates from the time of the Romans, and is known as the “Philosopher’s Tower,” would long ago have been buried beneath débris. A meteorological observatory might therefore be established with safety on the summit of this mountain, and no better station could be found for giving warning of approaching storms.

The summit of Mount Etna, 10,866 feet in height, does not penetrate the zone of perennial snow, and the heat emitted from the subterranean focus soon melts the incipient glaciers which accumulate in hollows. Nevertheless the upper half of the mountain is covered with a shroud of white during a great part of the year. It might be imagined that the snow and copious rains would give birth to numerous rivulets descending from the slopes of the volcano; but the small stones and cinders which cover the solid beds of lava promptly absorb all moisture, and springs are met with only in a few favoured spots. They are abundant on the lower slopes, or in the immediate vicinity of the sea. One of these is the fountain of Acis, which issues from the chaos of rocks which Polyphemus is said to have hurled at the ships of sage Ulysses. Another gives birth to the river Amenano, which rises in the town of Catania, and hastens in silvery cascades towards its port. When we look at these clear springs in the midst of black sands and burnt rocks we are able to comprehend the fancy of the ancient Greeks, who regarded them as divine beings, in whose honour they struck medals and raised statues.

Though running streams are scarcely met with on the slopes of Mount Etna, its cinders retain a sufficient quantity of moisture to support a luxuriant vegetation. The mountain is clad with verdure except where the surface of the lava is too compact to be penetrated by the roots of plants. Only the highest regions, which are covered with snow during the greater part of the year, are barren. It is a remarkable fact that the flora of the Alps should not be met with on Mount Etna, although the temperature suits it exactly.

Formerly the volcano was surrounded by a belt of forests occupying the zone between the cultivated lands and the region of snow and cinders. Such is the case no longer. On the southern slope, which is that usually ascended by tourists, there are no forests at all, and only the trunk of some ancient oak is occasionally met with. On the other slopes groves of trees are more frequent, particularly in the north, where there remain a few lofty trees, which impart quite an alpine character to the scenery. But the wood-cutters prosecute their work of extermination without mercy, and it is to be feared that the time is not very distant when even the last vestiges of the ancient forests will have disappeared. The magnificent chestnuts on the western slopes, amongst which could be admired until recently the “tree of the hundred horses,” bear witness to the astonishing fertility of the lava. If the cultivators of the soil only desired it, a few years would suffice to restore to Mount Etna its ancient covering of foliage.

The cultivated zone occupying the lower slopes of the mountains presents in many places the appearance of a beautiful garden. There are groves of olive, orange, lemon, and other fruit trees, in the midst of which rise clumps of palms, and villas, churches, and monasteries peep out from this mass of verdure. The fertility of the soil is so great that it supports a population three or four times more numerous than that in any other part of Italy. More than 300,000 inhabitants dwell on the slopes of a mountain which might be supposed to inspire terror, and which actually bursts at intervals, burying fertile fields beneath a fiery deluge. Town succeeds town along its base like pearls in a necklace, and when a stream of lava effects a breach in this chain of human habitations it is closed up again as soon as the lava has had time to cool. From the rim of the crater the mountain climber looks down with astonishment upon these human ant-hills. The concentric zones of houses and verdure contrast curiously with the snows and ashes occupying the centre of the picture, and with the barren limestone rocks beyond the Simeto. And this is only a small portion of the vast and marvellous prospect, embracing a radius of 124 miles. Well may the beholder be enchanted by the unrivalled spectacle of three seas, of a deeper blue than the skies, washing the shores of Sicily, of Calabria, and of the Æolian Islands.

Mount Pelorus, which forms a continuation of the chain of the Aspromonte of Calabria, is of very inferior height to Mount Etna, but it had existed for ages when the space now occupied by the volcano was only a bay of the sea. It was formerly believed that a crater existed on the highest summit of Pelorus dedicated to Neptune, and now to the “Mother of God,” or Dinna Mare (3,600 feet), but such is not the case. These mountains consist of primitive and transition rocks, with beds of limestone and marble on their flanks. They first follow the coast of the Ionian Sea, where they form numerous steep promontories, and then, turning abruptly towards the west, run parallel with that of the Æolian Sea. Their culminating point, near the centre, is known as Madonia (6,336 feet), and the magnificent forests which still clothe it impart to that part of the island quite a northern aspect, and we might almost fancy ourselves in the Apennines or Maritime Alps. Limestone promontories of the most varied profile advance into the blue waters of the sea, and render this coast one of the most beautiful of the Mediterranean. We are seized with admiration when we behold the enormous quadrangular block of Cefalù, the more undulating hill of Termini, the vertical masses of Coltafano, and above all, near Palermo, the natural fortress of Monte Pellegrino (1,970 feet), an almost inaccessible rock, upon which Hamilcar Barca resisted for three years the efforts of a Roman army to dislodge him. Monte San Giuliano (2,300 feet), an almost isolated limestone summit, terminates this chain in the west. It is the Eryx of the ancients, who dedicated it to Venus.

The mountains which branch off from this main chain towards the south gradually decrease in height as they approach the sea. The principal slopes of the island descend towards the Ionian and Sicilian Seas, and all its perennial rivers—the Platani, Salso, and Simeto—flow in these directions. The rivers on the northern slope are mere fiumare, formidable after heavy rains, but lost in beds of shingle during the dry season. The lakes and swamps of the island are likewise confined to the southern slope of the mountains. Amongst them are the pantani, and the Lake, or biviere, of Lentini, which is the most extensive sheet of water in Sicily; the Lake of Pergusa, or Enna, formerly surrounded by flowery meadows in which Proserpine was seized by Pluto; the biviere of Terranova; and several marshy tracts, the remains of ancient bays of the sea. This southern coast of the island contrasts most unfavourably with the northern, for, in the place of picturesque promontories of the most varied outline, we meet with a monotonous sandy shore, devoid of all shade. Natural harbours are scarce there, and during the winter storms vessels frequenting it are exposed to much danger.

The southern slope of Sicily, to the south of the Madonia, consists of tertiary and more recent rocks, abounding in fossil shells mostly belonging to species still living in the neighbouring sea. In the hills to the south of Catania these tertiary rocks alternate with strata of volcanic origin, which are evidently derived from submarine eruptions. This process is still going on between Girgenti and the island of Pantellaria, where the submarine volcano of Giulia or Ferdinandea occasionally rises above the surface of the sea. It was seen in 1801, and thirty years later it had another eruption, resulting in the formation of an island four miles in circumference, which was examined by Jussieu and Constant Prévost. In 1863 it appeared for the third time. But the waves of the sea have always washed away the ashes and cinders ejected on these occasions, spreading them in regular layers over the bottom of the sea, and thus producing an alternation of strata similar to that observed at Catania. In 1840 the summit of this submarine volcano was covered with only six feet of water, but recently no soundings were obtained at a depth of fifty fathoms.

This submarine volcano is not the only witness to the activity of subterranean forces in Southern Italy. We meet there with mineral springs discharging carbonic acid and other gases, which prove fatal to the smaller animals venturing within their influence, and with a naphtha lake near Palagonia, from which escape, likewise, irrespirable gases. A similar phenomenon may be witnessed in connection with the Lake of Pergusa, which occupies an ancient crater about four miles in circumference, and usually abounds in tench and eels. From time to time, however, an escape of poisonous gases appears to take place from the bottom of the lake, which kills the fish, whose carcasses rise to the surface. Another of these salses has made its appearance farther west, near the Palazzo Adriano, and, indeed, the whole of underground Sicily appears to be in a state of chemical effervescence.

Next to Mount Etna the great centre of volcanic activity in Sicily appears to be near Girgenti, at a place known as the Maccalubas. The aspect of this spot changes with the seasons. In summer bubbles of gas escape from small craters filled with liquid mud, which occasionally overflows, and runs down the exterior slopes. The rains of winter almost obliterate these miniature volcanoes, and the plain is then converted into one mass of mud, from which the gases escape. At the beginning of this century the soil was occasionally shaken by earthquakes, and on these occasions jets of mud and stones were ejected to a height of ten or twenty yards. The Maccalubas appear now to be in a state of quiescence, for these mud volcanoes also seem to have their regular periods of rest and activity.

The deposits of sulphur, which constitute one of the riches of Sicily, undoubtedly owe their existence to these subterranean lakes of seething lava. These sulphur beds are met with in the tertiary strata extending from Centorbi to Cattolica, in the province of Girgenti. They date from the epoch of the Upper Miocene, and are deposited upon layers of fossil infusoria exhaling a bituminous odour. Geologists are not yet agreed on the origin of these sulphur beds, but it is most likely that they are derived from sulphate of lime carried to the surface by hot springs. In the same formation beds of gypsum and of rock-salt are met with, and the latter may frequently be traced from a saline effervescence known as occhi di sale (“eyes of salt”).

Sicily, like Greece, enjoys one of the happiest climates. The heat of summer is tempered by sea breezes which blow regularly during the hottest part of each day. The cold of winter would not be felt at all if it were not for the total absence of every comfort in the houses, for ice is not known, and snow exceedingly rare. The autumn rains are abundant, but there are many fine days even during that season. The prevailing winds from the north and west are salubrious, but the sirocco, which usually blows towards the south-east, is deadly, especially when it reaches the northern coast. It generally blows for three or four days, and during that time no one thinks of clarifying wine, salting meat, or painting houses or furniture. This wind is the great drawback to the climate. In some parts of Sicily the exhalations from the swamps are dangerous, but this is entirely the fault of man. It is owing to his neglect that Agosta and Syracuse suffer from fevers, and that death forbids the stranger to approach the ruins of ancient Himera.109

Temperature and moisture impart to the vegetation of the plains and lower valleys a semi-tropical aspect. Many plants of Asia and Africa have become acclimatized in Sicily. Groups of date-palms are seen in the gardens, and the plains around Sciacca, almost African in their appearance, abound in groves of dwarf palms, or giummare, to which ancient Selinus was indebted for its epithet of Palmosa. Cotton grows on the slopes of the hills up to a height of 600 feet above the sea; bananas, sugar-cane, and bamboos do not require the shelter of greenhouses; the Victoria regia covers the ponds with its huge leaves and flowers; the papyrus of the Nile, which is not known anywhere else in Europe, chokes up the bed of the Anapo, near Syracuse: formerly it grew also in the Oreto, near Palermo, but it does so no longer. The cactus of Barbary (Cactus opuntia) has become the most characteristic plant of the coast districts of Sicily, and is rapidly covering the most unpromising beds of lava. These and other plants flourish most luxuriantly on the southern slopes of Mount Etna, where the orange-tree bears fruit at a height of 1,700 feet, and the larch ascends even to 7,400 feet. These slopes facing the African sun are the hottest spots in Europe, for the volcano shelters them from the winds of the north, whilst its dark-coloured scoriæ and cinders absorb the rays of the mid-day sun.

Those portions of Sicily which are clothed with trees or shrubs are always green, for orange-trees, olive-trees, carob-trees, laurels, mastic-trees, tamarisks, cypresses, and pines retain their verdure even in winter, when nature wears a desolate aspect in our own latitudes. There is no “season,” so to say, for with a little care all kinds of vegetables can be had throughout the year. The gardens around Syracuse are famous above all others, because of the striking manner in which they contrast with the naked rocks surrounding them. The most delightful amongst them is the Intagliatella, or Latomia de’ Greci, which occupies an old quarry where Greek slaves dressed the stones used in erecting the palaces of Syracuse. The vegetation there is most luxuriant; the trunks of the trees rise above masses of shrubs, their branches are covered with creeping plants, flowers and ripening fruit cover the paths, and birds without number sing in the foliage. This earthly paradise is surrounded by precipitous walls of rock covered with ivy, or bare and white as on the day when Athenian slaves were at work there.

Sicily lies on the high-road of all the nations who ever disputed the command of the Mediterranean, and its population consequently consists of a mixture of the most heterogeneous elements. Irrespectively of Sicani, Siculi, and other aboriginal nations, whose position amongst the European family is uncertain, but who probably spoke a language akin to that of the Latins, we know that Phœnicians and Carthaginians successively settled on its shores, and that the Greeks were almost as numerous there as in their native country. Twenty-five centuries have passed since the Greeks founded their first colony, Naxos, at the foot of Mount Etna. Soon afterwards Syracuse, Leontini, Catania, Megara Hyblæa, Messina, and other colonies sprang into existence, until the whole of the littoral region was in the hands of the Greeks, the native populations being pushed back into the interior. In Sicily the Greek met with the same climate, and with rocks and mountains similar in aspect to those of his native home. The “Marmorean” port and the wide bay of Syracuse, the acropolis and Mount Hybla, do they not recall Attica or the Peloponnesus? The fountain of Arethusa, on the island of Ortygia, which is supplied through underground channels, reminds us of the fountain of Erasinos and of many others in Hellas, which find their way through fissures in the limestone rocks to the seashore. The Syracusans said that the river Alpheus, enamoured of the nymph Arethusa, did not mingle its waters with those of the Ionian, but found its way through subterranean channels to the coast of Sicily, where it rose again at the side of the fountain dedicated to the object of his adoration, bringing the flowers and fruits of beloved Greece. This legend bears testimony to the great love which the Greek bore his native land, whose very fountains and plants were supposed to follow him into his new home.

If we may judge from the number of inhabitants with which the principal towns were credited at that time, Sicily must have had a population of several millions of Greeks. The Carthaginian merchants and soldiers, on the other hand, though they were the masters of portions of the island for two or three centuries, never settled upon it, and only a few walls, coins, and inscriptions bear witness now of their ever having been present. It has been very judiciously remarked by M. Dennis that the most striking evidence of their reign is presented in the desolate sites of the cities of Himera and Selinus. At the same time we must not forget that the Carthaginians, by intermingling with the existing population, materially affected the ulterior destinies of the island. The Romans, who held Sicily for nearly seven centuries, did so in a still higher degree. Vandals and Goths likewise left traces behind them. The Saracens, themselves a mixed race, imparted their Southern impetuosity to the Sicilians, whilst their conquerors, the Normans, endowed them with the daring and indomitable courage which at that period animated these sons of the North. In 1071, when the Normans laid siege to Palermo, no less than five languages were spoken on the island, viz. Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, Latin, and vulgar Sicilian. But Arabic was the tongue of the civilised inhabitants, and even during the dominion of the Normans inscriptions upon palaces and churches were written in it. It was at the court of King Roger that Edrisi wrote his “Geography,” one of the great monuments of science. In 1223 the last Arabs were made to emigrate to Naples, but by that time much Arab blood already flowed through the veins of the inhabitants.

Later on, the character of the population was still further modified by French, Germans, Spaniards, and Aragonese, and all this helped to make them a people differing in appearance, manners, habits, and feelings from their Italian neighbours. These islanders look upon every inhabitant of the mainland as a foreigner. The absence of roads on the island enabled the different groups of its population to maintain their distinct idioms and character during a very long period. The Lombards whom the Romans transplanted to Benevento and Palermo spoke their native dialect long after it had become extinct in Lombardy. Even now there are about 50,000 Sicilians who speak this ancient Lombard tongue. At San Fratello, on a steep hill on the northern coast, this idiom is spoken with the greatest purity. Nor has the Italian wholly supplanted the vulgar Sicilian in the interior of the island. We meet with many Greek and Arab words. One of the most curious words is that of val, which is applied to various districts of Sicily, and is supposed to have been derived from vali, the Arab term for “governor.” The Sicilian idiom is less sonorous than the Italian. Vowels standing between consonants are frequently suppressed, and the o, and even the a and i (ee), are changed into oo, which renders the speech hard and indistinct. The language lends itself, however, admirably to poetry, and the Sicilian popular songs are quite equal in natural grace and delicacy to the much-admired rispetti of Tuscany.

Of all the emigrants who have settled on the island the Albanians alone have not become merged in the general population. Locally known as Greci, they still form separate communities, speaking their own language and observing special religious rites, in several of the towns of the interior, and more especially at Piana de’ Greci, which occupies a commanding hill to the south of Palermo. Nor is the fusion amongst the other races as complete as it appears to be at the first glance. The population around Mount Etna, who are, perhaps, more purely Greek in blood than the Greeks themselves, are noted for their grace, gaiety, and sweetness of disposition. They are the most intelligent portion of the population of Sicily. Those of Trapani and San Giuliani are said to be the best-looking, and their women delight the stranger by the regularity and beauty of their features. The Palermitans, on the other hand, in whose veins flows much Arab blood, are for the most part unprepossessing in their appearance. They open their house but rarely to strangers, and jealously shut up their women in its most retired part.

The most ferocious usages of war, piracy, and brigandage have kept their ground longer at Palermo and its environs than anywhere else. The laws of the omerta, or “men of heart,” make vengeance a duty. A chi ti toglie il pane, e tu toglili la vita! (“Take the life of him who has taken your bread!”) is its fundamental principle; but in practice Palermitan vengeance is far from possessing the simplicity of the Corsican vendetta, for it is complicated by the most atrocious cruelties. No less than four or five thousand Palermitans are said to be affiliated to the secret league of the maffia, whose members subsist upon every kind of roguery. Up to 1865 the brigands were masters in the environs of that town. They virtually laid siege to the town, separating it from its more distant suburbs. Strangers were afraid to leave lest they should be murdered or captured by bandits; and no farmer could harvest his corn or olives, or shear his sheep, without paying toll to these highwaymen. More than ten years have passed since then, but in spite of measures of exceptional severity the maffia still exists.

The history of this association, which dates its origin back to the time of the Norman kings, remains yet to be written. It has always flourished most in time of political troubles, and consequent misery. No doubt things have grown worse in the course of the last twenty years; taxes have been increased, the conscription established, and many abrupt changes, such as are inseparable from a new political regimen, have been introduced. The people, accustomed to put up with ancient abuses, have not yet learnt to bear the burdens imposed in connection with the annexation of the island to the kingdom of Italy. Nevertheless the Sicilians grow more Italian from day to day. Community of language and of interests attaches the island to the peninsula, and the time is not far distant when both countries will gravitate in the same orbit. Italy is most highly interested in establishing feelings of friendship with the inhabitants of the island, and in developing its resources. The rapid increase of the population, which is said to have tripled since 1734, bears witness to the great natural riches of the country; and what might not be achieved if the barbarous processes now in force there were superseded by the scientific methods of our own time?

Sicily was the favourite haunt of Ceres, and in the plain of Catania this beneficent goddess taught man the art of cultivating the soil. The Sicilians have not forgotten this teaching, for nearly half the area is covered with corn-fields; but they have not improved their system of cultivation since those fabulous times, and improvements can hardly be effected as long as the restrictions imposed by the feudal tenure introduced by the Normans are allowed to exist. The agricultural implements are of a primitive kind, manure is hardly known, and the fate of the crops depends entirely upon nature. When travelling through the country districts of Sicily, we are struck by not meeting with isolated houses. There are no villages, for all the cultivators of the soil live in towns, and are content to travel daily to their fields, which are occasionally at a distance of six miles. Sometimes they pass the night there, in a cavern or a ditch covered with boughs, and at harvest-time the labourers sleep in improvised sheds. This absence of human habitations imparts an air of solemn sadness to vast corn-fields covering valleys and slopes, and we almost fancy we are wandering through a deserted country, and wonder for whose benefit the crops are ripening.

Corn-fields cover a greater area than that devoted to the cultivation of all other objects put together; nevertheless the latter articles represent a higher pecuniary value. The orchards, vineyards, and gardens near the towns are a far greater source of wealth than the distant corn-fields. In former times wheat was the principal article of export; now Sicily is no longer a granary, but promises to become a vast emporium of fruit. Even now the crop of oranges grown there, which consists of seven kinds, subdivided into four hundred varieties, represents a value of £2,000,000 a year. The marvellous gardens which surround Palermo are steadily increasing at the expense of the ancient plantations of ash, and ascend the hills to a height of 1,150 feet. Hundreds of millions of oranges are exported annually to Continental Europe, England, and America, and the inferior sorts are converted into essential oils, citric acid, or citrate of lime. The last is used in printing stuffs, and Sicily enjoys a monopoly in its manufacture.

Sicily likewise occupies a foremost place as a vine-growing country, and supplies more than a fourth of the wine produced throughout Italy. The cultivation of the vine, which is carried on to a large extent by foreigners, is much better understood there than on the neighbouring peninsula, and the wines exported from Marsala, Syracuse, Alcamo, and Milazzo are justly held in high estimation. Excellent wine is also grown on the southern and western slopes of Mount Etna, to which the heat of the sun imparts much fire. England and non-Italian Europe are the great consumers of the wines of Sicily, as they are of its oils, almonds, cotton, saffron, sumach, and manna, extracted, like that of the Calabrias, from a kind of ash. Raw silk, which Sicily was the first to produce in Europe, is likewise exported in considerable quantities.

Sulphur is the great mineral product of the island. The beds vary much in richness, but even where they contain only five or six per cent. a light brought to the walls of the mine will cause the sulphur to boil like pitch. The blocks extracted from the mine are piled up in the open air, where they remain exposed to the destructive action of the atmosphere. The fragments are then heaped up over the flame of a furnace, which causes the stones to split, the melted sulphur flowing into moulds placed beneath. By this primitive process only two-thirds of the sulphur contained in the rock are extracted, but it proves nevertheless most remunerative. About 200,000 tons of sulphur, or more than two-thirds of the sulphur required for manufacturing purposes throughout Europe, are annually exported from Sicily, and the known deposits of the island have been computed to contain from 40,000,000 to 50,000,000 tons. To the north of Girgenti and in other parts of Sicily sulphureous plaster has been used in the construction of the houses, and the atmosphere there is at all times impregnated with an odour of sulphur.

Rock-salt is met with in the same formations as the sulphur, and in quantities almost inexhaustible, but salt is not a rare article, and even the Sicilians prefer to gather it from the salt swamps extending along the coast, the most productive of which are near Trapani, at the western extremity of the island. At the same spot the sea yields the best coral of Sicily. The tunny fishery is carried on mostly in the great bays between Trapani and Palermo, while most of the swordfish are captured in the Strait of Messina. The seas of Sicily abound in fish, and the islanders boast of being the most expert fishermen of the Western Mediterranean.

Until recently communications in Sicily were kept up almost exclusively by sea. In 1866 the only carriage road of the island, which connects Messina with Palermo, was hardly made use of by travellers, and even now the most important mines of sulphur and salt communicate with the seashore only by mule-paths; and the inhabitants are actually opposed to the construction of roads, from fear of their interfering with the existing modes of transport. The road which connects the harbour of Terranova with Caltanissetta has been under construction for twenty years, although it is the only one which joins the interior of the country to the sea-coast. Railways to some extent supply this deficiency of roads, but are being built very slowly, hardly more than 250 miles being at present open for traffic.

Palermo the “happy,” the capital of Sicily, is one of the great towns of Italy. At the time of the Arabs it surpassed all towns of the peninsula in population, but at present, though increasing rapidly, it yields to Naples, Milan, and Rome. No other town of Europe can boast of an equally delicious climate, nor is any fairer to look upon from a distance. Bold barren mountains enclose a marvellous garden, the famous “shell of gold” (conca d’oro), from the midst of which rise towers and domes, palms with fan-shaped leaves, and pines, commanded in the south by the huge ecclesiastical edifices of Monreale. Termini is the only city of Sicily which rivals Palmero in the beauty of its site, and it truly merits its epithet of splendissime.

But the beauty of the country contrasts most painfully with the misery and filth reigning in most of the quarters of the capital. Palermo has its sumptuous edifices. It boasts of a cathedral lavishly decorated; its royal palace and palatine chapel, covered with mosaics, and harmoniously combining the beauties of Byzantine, Moorish, and Roman art, are unique of their kind; the church of Monreale, in one of its suburbs, may challenge Ravenna by the number of its mosaics. There are Moorish palaces, a few modern monuments, and two broad streets, which a Spanish governor had made in the shape of a cross. But, besides these, we only meet with dark and narrow streets and wretched tenements, the windows of which are stuffed with rags. Down to a recent period Palermo was undeserving its Greek name of “Port of all Nations.” Enclosed within mountains, and having no communications with the interior, its commerce was merely local, and its exports were limited to the produce of its fisheries and of its gardens. Though far more populous than Genoa, its commerce is only half that of the Ligurian city, but it is rapidly on the increase.

Trapani, a colony of the Carthaginians like Palermo, and Marsala, so famous for its wines, at the western extremity of the island, are proportionately far busier than the capital. Trapani, built on a sickle-shaped promontory, carries on a lively trade. The salt marshes near it are amongst the most productive in all Italy;110 tunny, coral, and sponge fishing is carried on; and the artisans of the town are skilled as weavers, masons, and jewellers. The harbour is one of the best in Italy; the roadstead is well sheltered by the outlying Ægadian Islands; and the ambition of the inhabitants, who look forward to a time when Trapani will be the principal emporium for the trade with Tunis, is likely to be realized on the completion of a railway to Messina. The harbour of Mazzara, the outlet for the produce of the inland towns of Castelvetrano and Salemi, lies closer to Tunis, but its shelter is indifferent. As to Marsala—the “Mars ed Allah,” or God’s haven, of the Arabs—its port was filled up by Charles V., and has only recently been reconstructed. It is, however, not of sufficient depth for large vessels, and only salt and wine are exported from it to France and England. Marsala occupies the site of the ancient city of Lilybæum, which had a population of 900,000 souls when Diodorus Siculus wrote his Geography. It has recently become famous in consequence of the landing there of Garibaldi and his thousand followers in 1860, and its being the spot from which they entered upon the triumphant march which ended in the battle of the Volturno and the capture of Gaeta.

Messina the “noble” is the great commercial centre of Sicily, and the only port of that island where vessels of all nations meet. Messina is a stage on the ocean high-roads which join or connect Western Europe and the Levant. Its roadstead is one of the safest, and vessels in distress are certain to find protection there. Moreover, vessels coming from the Tyrrhenian, and fearful of encountering the dangerous currents of the strait during a storm, may easily find shelter at Milazzo, to the north of it. The port of Messina is formed by a sickle-shaped tongue of land, making a natural breakwater.111 There are few cities in Europe which are more exposed to the destructive action of earthquakes than Messina, and the traces of the great shock of 1783, which swamped the vessels in the harbour, undermined the palaces along the seashore, and caused the death of more than a thousand persons, have not yet entirely disappeared.

Catania, the sub-Etnean, as its Greek name implies, is menaced not only by earthquakes, but also by volcanic eruptions. It, too, enjoys a high amount of commercial prosperity, and exports the surplus produce of the towns situated at the foot of the volcano, among which are Acireale, with its orange groves; Giarre, with its dusty streets; Paterno, abounding in thermal springs; Aderno, on the summit of a rock of lava; Bronte, at the junction of two streams of scoriæ; and Randazza, commanded by an ancient Norman castle. Catania also monopolizes the export of the produce of the inland districts of Eastern Sicily; it is the great railway centre of the island, and several carriage roads converge upon it. Its port has grown too small for the business carried on there, and it is proposed to enlarge it by means of piers and breakwaters.

It is quite natural that on an island, no locality of which is more than forty miles from the sea, all great towns should be met with on the coast, where there are greater facilities for commerce. Still a few centres of population sprang up in the interior, either in the midst of the most fertile districts or at the crossings of the most-frequented lines of communication. Nicosia, the Lombard city, is thus a natural place of passage between Catania and the northern coast of the island. Corleone occupies a similar position with respect to Palermo and the African slope of the island. Castro Giovanni, the ancient Enna, likewise occupies a privileged position, for it stands on an elevated plateau in the very centre of the island: a large stone near it is said by the inhabitants to be an ancient altar of Ceres. Piazza Armerina l’opulentissime, and Caltagirone, surnamed la gratissima on account of the fertility of its fields, are both populous towns, which carry on a considerable commerce through Terranova, in the building of which the stones of the old temples of Gela have been utilised. Caltanissetta, farther to the west, and its neighbour Canicatti, export their produce through the port of Licata.

In the south-eastern corner of Sicily there are likewise several inland towns of some importance, amongst which Ragusa and Modica are the most considerable. Comiso, an industrious place, lies farther to the west, and is surrounded by cotton plantations. The valley of the Hipparis, sung by Pindar, separates it from Vittoria, the saline plains of which furnish much of the soda exported to Marseilles. Noto, like most towns in that part of Sicily, is at some distance from the coast, but its twin city, Avola, stands upon the shore of the Ionian Sea. Noto and Avola were both overthrown by the earthquake of 1693, and have been rebuilt with geometrical regularity near their former sites. The fields of Avola, though not very fertile by nature, are amongst the best cultivated of the island, and it is there only that the production of the sugar-cane has attained to any importance.

On the northern slope of the hills forming the back-bone of the island there are several other towns inhabited by the agricultural population. Lentini, the ancient Leontini, which boasts of being the oldest city in the island, is at present only a poor place, having been wholly rebuilt since the earthquake of 1693. Militello has been restored since the same epoch, and Grammicheli was founded in the eighteenth century to afford a shelter for the inhabitants of Occhiala, which was destroyed by an earthquake. Vizzini and Licodia di Vizzini are remarkable on account of the beds of lava near them, which alternate with layers of marine fossils, and Mineo stands near a small crater of the swamp of Palici. The popular songs of Mineo are famous throughout Sicily. The marvellous “stone of poetry” is shown near it, and all those who kiss it are said to become poets.

Southern Sicily is poor in natural ports, and formerly, along the whole of that part of the coast which faces Africa, there were only open roadsteads and beaches. On the Ionian coast, however, two excellent harbours are met with, viz. those of Agosta and Syracuse, which are very much like each other in outline and general features. Agosta, or Augusta, the successor of the Greek city of Megara Hyblæa, is now nothing more than a fortress besieged by fever. Syracuse, the ancient city of the Dorians, and at one time the most populous and wealthy city of the Mediterranean, has been reduced to a simple provincial capital. That city, whose inhabitants even during the last century celebrated their great victory over the Athenians, is now hardly more than a heap of ruins. Its “marble port,” formerly surrounded by statues, is now frequented only by small boats, and its great harbour, large enough for contending squadrons, lies deserted. All that remains of it is contained in the small island of Ortygia, separated from the mainland by fortifications, a ditch, and the swamps of Syraca. The vast peninsula of limestone formerly occupied by the city is at present inhabited only by a few farmers, whose houses stand near the canals of irrigation. The grand edifices erected by the inhabitants of ancient Syracuse are now represented by the ruins of columns on the banks of the Anapo rising from the “azure” fountain of Cyane; by the fortifications of the Epipolæ and Euryelum erected by Archimedes, and now known as Belvedere; by the remains of baths, an enormous altar large enough for hecatombs of sacrifices, an amphitheatre, and an admirable theatre for 25,000 spectators, who were able to see at a glance from their seats the whole of the ancient city, with its temples and fleets of merchantmen. Nothing, however, is better calculated to convey an idea of the ancient grandeur of the city than the vast quarries or lautumiæ and the subterranean catacombs, more extensive than those of Naples, and not yet wholly explored. In former times the summit of the island of Ortygia was occupied by an acropolis, in which stood a temple of Minerva, a rival of the Parthenon of Athens. Sailors, on leaving the port, were bound to look towards this temple, holding in their hands a vase of burning charcoal taken from the altar of Juno, which they flung into the sea when they lost sight of it. Portions of the temple still exist, but its beautiful columns have been covered with plaster and incorporated in an ugly church.

There are other Hellenic ruins in Sicily, which, in the eyes of artists, make that island a worthy rival of Greece itself. Girgenti, the ancient Acragas, or Agrigentum, which numbered its inhabitants by hundreds of thousands, but is now a poor place like Syracuse, possesses ruins of at least ten temples or religious edifices, of which that dedicated to Olympian Jupiter was the largest in all Italy, and has been made use of in the construction of the present mole. Another, that dedicated to Concord, is in a better state of preservation than any other Greek temple outside the limits of Hellas. The modern city occupies merely the site of the ancient acropolis, and is built upon a layer of shelly sandstone, which descends in steps towards the sea. The cathedral has been built from materials taken from a temple of Jupiter Atabyrios, and its baptismal font is an ancient sarcophagus upon which are represented the loves of Phædra and Hippolytus. In former times Agrigentum reached to within a couple of miles from the sea. The modern port, named in honour of one of the most famous sons of the city, lies to the west of the ancient Hellenic Emporium, at a distance of four miles from the city. It is the busiest harbour on the southern coast, and large quantities of sulphur are exported from it (see Fig. 117, p. 317).

Sciacca, another seaside town farther to the west, in one of those localities of the island most exposed to earthquakes, boasts of being the modern representative of Selinus, though that Greek city was situated about fourteen miles farther west, to the south of Castelvetrano. Its seven temples have been overthrown by earthquakes, but they still present us with remains of the purest Doric style. The metopes of three of them have been conveyed to Palermo, where they form the most precious ornaments of the museum.

Segesta, on the north coast, no longer exists, but there still remain the ruins of a magnificent temple. Other remains of Greek art abound in all parts of the island, and there are also monuments erected by the Romans. If we contrast these ancient edifices with those raised since by Byzantines, Moors, Normans, Spaniards, and Neapolitans, we are bound to admit that the latter exhibit no progress, but decadence. Alas! how very much inferior are the inhabitants of modern Syracuse in comparison with the fellow-citizens of an Archimedes!

Sicily offers most striking examples of towns changing their positions in consequence of political disturbances. When the ancient Greek cities were at the height of their power they boldly descended to the very coast; but when war and rapine got the upper hand—when Moorish pirates scoured the sea, and brigandage reigned in the interior—then it was that most of the cities of Sicily took refuge on the summits of the hills, abandoning their low-lying suburbs to decay, and allowing them finally to disappear. Girgenti is a case in point. Some of the towns occupy sites of much natural strength, and are almost inaccessible. Such are Centuripe, or Centorbi, which stretches along the edge of a rock to the west of the Simeto, and San Giuliano, the town of Astarte, which stands on the summit of a pyramidal rock 1,200 feet in height above Trapani. But, on the return of peace, the inhabitants abandoned their eyries and came back to the plain or coast. All along the northern coast, from Palermo to Messina, the towns on the marina, or beach, kept increasing at the expense of the borgos occupying the summits of the mountains, and in many instances the latter were deserted altogether. Cefalù affords a striking illustration of this change. The modern city nestles at the foot of a bold promontory, upon the summit of which may still be seen the crenellated walls of the old town, within which nothing now remains excepting a small cyclopean temple, the most venerable ruin of all Sicily, which has resisted the ravages of thirty centuries.112

The Æolian or Liparic Islands

The Æolian or Liparic Islands, though separated from Sicily by a strait more than 300 fathoms in depth, may nevertheless be looked upon as a dependency of the larger island. Some of these volcanic islands, “born in the shadow of Mount Etna,” lie on a line connecting that volcano with Mount Vesuvius, and they originated probably during the same convulsion of nature. They all consist of lavas, cinders, or pumice, ejected from volcanoes. Two amongst them, Vulcano and Stromboli, are still active volcanoes, and the flames and undulating columns of smoke rising from them enable mariners and fishermen to foretell changes of temperature or wind. It is probable that this intelligent interpretation of volcanic phenomena was the reason why these islands were dedicated to Æolus, the god of the winds, who there revealed himself to mariners.

Lipari, the largest and most central of these islands, is at the same time the most populous. A considerable town, commanded by an ancient castle, rises like an amphitheatre on its northern shore. A well-cultivated plain, abounding in olive-trees, orange-trees, and vines, surrounds the town, and the slopes of the hills are cultivated almost to their very summits. The population, as in Sicily, has been recruited from the most diverse elements since the time that Greek colonists from Rhodes, Cnidus, and Selinus entered into an alliance with the aboriginal inhabitants. This intermixture of races is proceeding now as much as ever, for commerce continually introduces fresh blood, and many Calabrian brigands have been conveyed to the island, where they have become peaceable citizens. The population is now permitted to multiply in peace, for the volcanoes of Lipari have been quiescent for centuries. The Lipariotes have a legend according to which St. Calogero chased the devils from the islands, and shut them up in the furnaces of Vulcano, and we may infer from this that the last volcanic eruption took place soon after the introduction of Christianity; that is to say, about the sixth century. The existence of subterranean forces manifests itself now only in thermal springs and steam jets, which have been visited from the most ancient times for the cure of diseases. Earthquakes, however, are of frequent occurrence, and that of 1780 so much frightened the inhabitants that with one accord they dedicated themselves to the Virgin Mary. Dolomieu, who visited Lipari in the year following, found them wearing a small chain on the arm, by means of which they desired to show that they had become the slaves of the “Liberating Virgin.”

Lipari is a land of promise to the geologist, on account of the great variety of its lavas. Monte della Castagna is wholly composed of obsidian. Another hill, Monte Bianco, consists of pumice, and, when seen from a distance, has the appearance of being covered with snow. The streams of pumice which fill every ravine extend down to the sea, and the water is covered with this buoyant stone, which drifts sometimes as far as Corsica. Lipari supplies nearly the whole of Europe with pumice.113

Vulcano, to the south of Lipari, from which it is separated by a strait less than a mile across, contrasts strangely with its smiling neighbour. Vulcano, with the exception of a few olives and vines growing on the southern slopes, consists wholly of naked scoriæ, and this circumstance probably led to its being dedicated to Vulcan. Most of its rocks are black or of a reddish hue like iron, but there are others which are scarlet, yellow, or white. At the northern extremity of the island rises the Vulcanello, a small cone which appeared above the surface of the sea nobody knows when, and which an isthmus of reddish cinders united about the middle of the thirteenth century to the principal volcano of the island. This central mountain of the island has a crater about 1,800 yards in circumference, from which steam continually escapes. The atmosphere is charged with sulphurous vapours difficult to breathe. From hundreds of small orifices jets of steam make their escape with a throbbing and hissing noise. Some of these fumaroles have a temperature of 610° F. Jets of a lower temperature are met with in other parts of the island, and even at the bottom of the bay. Violent eruptions are rare, and in the eighteenth century only three occurred. The last eruption took place in 1873, after a repose of a hundred years. Until recently the only inhabitants of Vulcano were a few convicts, who collected sulphur and boracic acid, and manufactured a little alum. But an enterprising Scotchman has now taken possession of this grand chemical laboratory. He has built a large manufactory near the port, and a few trees planted around his Moorish residence have somewhat improved the repulsive aspect of the country.

Stromboli, though smaller than either Lipari or Vulcano, is nevertheless more celebrated, on account of its frequent eruptions. For ages back scarcely any mariners have passed this island without seeing its summit in a state of illumination. At intervals of five minutes, or less, the seething lava filling its caldron bubbles up, explosions occur, and steam and stones are ejected. These rhythmical eruptions form a most agreeable sight, for there is no danger about them, and the olive groves of the Stromboliotes have never been injured by a stream of lava. The volcano, however, has its moments of exasperation, and its ashes have frequently been carried to the coast of Calabria, which is more than thirty miles off.

Panaria and the surrounding group of islands between Stromboli and Lipari have undergone many changes, if Dolomieu and Spallanzani are correct in saying that they originally formed only a single island, which was blown into fragments by an eruption having its centre near the present island of Dattilo. A hot spring and an occasional bubbling up of the sea-water prove that the volcanic forces are not yet quite extinct.

As regards the small eastern islands of the archipelago, Salina, Felicudi, and Alicudi, the last of which resembles a tent pitched upon the surface of the water, history furnishes no records of their ever having been in any other than a quiescent state. The island of Ustica, about thirty miles to the north of Palermo, is likewise of volcanic origin, but is not known ever to have had an eruption. It is one of the most dreaded places of exile in Italy. Near it is the uninhabited island of Medico, the ancient Osteodes, where the mercenaries deserted by the Carthaginians were left to die of starvation.

The Ægadian Islands

Off the western extremity of Sicily lie shallows, sand-banks, and calcareous islands of the same composition as the adjoining mainland. These are the Ægades, or Goat Islands, named after the animals which climb their steep escarpments. Favignana, near which the Romans won the naval victory which terminated the first Punic war, is the largest of these islands. Its steep cliffs abound in caverns, in which heaps of shells, gnawed bones, and stone implements have been found, dating back to the contemporaries of the mammoth and the antediluvian bear. Conflicts between contrary winds are frequent in this labyrinth of rocks and shoals, and the power of the waves is much dreaded. The tides are most irregular, and give rise to dangerous eddies. The sudden ebb, locally known as marubia, or “tipsy sea” (mare ubbriaco?), has been the cause of many shipwrecks.

Pantellaria

Pantellaria rises in the very centre of the strait which unites the Western Mediterranean with the Eastern. The island is of volcanic origin, abounds in thermal springs, and, above all, in steam jets. Placed on a great line of navigation, Pantellaria might have become of importance if it had possessed a good harbour like Malta. To judge from certain ruins, the population was more considerable formerly than it is now. There exist about a thousand odd edifices, called sesi by the inhabitants, which are supposed to be ancient dwellings. Like the nuraghi of Sardinia, they have the shape of hives, and are built of huge blocks of rock without mortar. Some of them are twenty-five feet high and forty-five feet wide; and Rossi, the archæologist, thinks that they date back to the stone age, for pieces of worked obsidian have been found in them.

From the top of Pantellaria we are able to distinguish the promontories on the Tunisian coast, but, though it is nearer to Africa than to Europe, the island nevertheless belongs to the latter continent, as is proved by the configuration of the sea-bottom. This cannot be said of Linosa, an island with four volcanic peaks to the west of Malta, and still less of the Pelagian Islands. The latter, consisting of Lampedusa and a satellite rock called Lampion, owe their name (Lamp-bearer and Lamp) to the light which, legend tells us, was kept burning by a hermit or angel for the benefit of mariners. In our own days this legendary lamp has been superseded by a small lighthouse marking the entrance to the port of Lampedusa, where vessels of three or four hundred tons find a safe shelter.

About the close of the eighteenth century the Russians proposed to establish a military station on Lampedusa to rival that of Malta, but this project was never carried out, and has not been taken up by the Italian Government. The population consists of soldiers, political exiles, criminals, and a few settlers, who speak Maltese.114

Malta and Gozzo

Malta, though a political dependency of Great Britain, belongs geographically to Italy, for it rises from the same submarine plateau as Sicily. About fifty miles to the east of the island the depth of the sea exceeds 1,500 fathoms, but in the north, in the direction of Sicily, it hardly amounts to eighty, and there can be no doubt that an isthmus formerly united Malta to continental Europe. Geologists are agreed that the land of which Malta and Gozzo are now the only remains must formerly have been of great extent, for amongst the fossils of its most recent limestone rocks have been found the bones of elephants and other animals which only inhabit continents. Even now the island is slowly wasting away, and its steep cliffs, pierced by numerous grottoes, locally known as ghar, are gradually crumbling into dust.

Placed in the very centre of the Mediterranean, and possessed of an excellent port, Malta has at all times been a commercial station of much importance. It has been occupied by all the nations who succeeded each other in the possession of the Mediterranean—Phœnicians, Carthaginians, Romans, and Greeks. But long before that time the island must have been inhabited, for we meet with grottoes excavated in the rocks, and with curious edifices resembling the nuraghi of Sardinia, and it is just possible that the descendants of these aborigines still constitute the principal element of the existing population, which, at all events, is very mixed, and during the domination of the Saracens almost became Arab. The language spoken is a very corrupt Italian, containing many Arabic words.

The great military part played by Malta began when the Knights of St. John, after their expulsion from Rhodes in 1522, installed themselves upon the island, and converted it into the bulwark of the Christian world. In the beginning of this century Malta passed into the possession of the English, who may survey thence, as from a watch-tower, the whole of the Mediterranean, from Gibraltar to Smyrna and Port Said. The excellent port of La Valetta singularly facilitates the military and commercial part which Malta is called upon to play in the world of the Mediterranean. It is sufficiently spacious to shelter two entire fleets, and its approaches are defended by fortifications rendered impregnable by the successive work of three centuries. There are, besides, all the facilities required by merchantmen, including a careening dock larger than any other in the world. The commerce of the island is rapidly increasing; it is one of the great centres of steamboat navigation, and submarine telegraphs connect it with all parts of the world.115

The city of La Valetta has retained all its ancient picturesqueness, in spite of its straight streets and the walls which surround it. Its high white houses, ornamented with balconies and conservatories, rise amphitheatre-like on the slope of a hill; stairs lead from landing-place to landing-place to the summit of this hill; and from every street we behold the blue sea, with its large merchantmen and crowds of smaller vessels. Gondolas, having two huge eyes painted upon the prow, glide noiselessly over the waters, and curious vehicles roll heavily along the quays. Maltese, English soldiers, and sailors of every nation crowd the streets. Now and then a woman glides rapidly along the walls. Like all Christian women of the East, she wears the faldetta, a sort of black silk domino, which hides her sumptuous dress, and coquettishly conceals her features.

Malta beyond the walls of the town is but a dreary place of abode. The country rises gently towards the south, in the direction of Città Vecchia and the hills of Ben Gemma. Grey rocks abound, a fine dust covers the vegetation, and the white walls of the village glisten in the sun. There are no trees, except in a few solitary gardens, where the famous mandarin oranges grow. Nor are there any rivers. The soil is scorched, and it is matter for astonishment that it should yield such abundant harvests of cereals, and clover (sulla) growing to the height of a man. Carnation tints delight the eye during the season of flowers. The Maltese peasants, small, wiry, and muscular, are wonderfully industrious. They have brought the whole island under cultivation, the cliffs alone excepted, and, where vegetable soil is wanting, they produce it artificially by triturating the rocks. In former times vessels coming from Sicily were bound to bring a certain quantity of soil as ballast. But in spite of their careful cultivation, the inhabitants of Malta, Gozzo, and Comino (thus named from cumin, which, with cotton, is the principal crop of the island), the produce hardly suffices for six months’ consumption, and the islanders are largely dependent upon Sicily for their food. Navigation and the fisheries contribute likewise towards the means of subsistence, but the Maltese would nevertheless perish on their island if the surplus population did not emigrate to all the coast lands of the Mediterranean, and especially to Algeria, where the Maltese, as everywhere else, are distinguished for thrift and industry.

In winter this exodus is in some measure compensated for by the arrival of many English families, who visit the island for the sake of its dry and mild climate. February is the finest month, and the island is then resplendent with verdure, but the scorching heat of summer soon dries up the vegetation.

A governor appointed by the Crown exercises executive functions, and enjoys the privilege of mercy. He is assisted by a Council of seven members, by whom all laws are discussed and voted. The lord-lieutenant of each district is chosen amongst the Maltese nobles, and deputies appointed by the governor manage the affairs of the villages. Italian is the language used in the courts, with the exception of the Supreme Court, into which English was introduced in 1823.

The revenues of the island, about £170,000 annually, are not sufficient to cover the military expenses, and the deficiency is made up by the imperial treasury.

Most of the inhabitants are Roman Catholics. The bishop is appointed by the Pope, and enjoys an income of £4,000.116

VIII — Sardinia

It is a curious fact that an island so fertile as Sardinia, so rich in metals, and so favourably situated in the centre of the Tyrrhenian Sea, should have lagged behind in the race of progress as it has. When the Carthaginians held that island its population was certainly more numerous than it is now, and the fearful massacres placed on record by the historians of Rome testify to this fact. Its decadence was sudden and thorough. In part it may be accounted for by the configuration of the island, which presents steep cliffs towards Italy, whence emigrants might have arrived, whilst its western coast is bounded by marshes and insalubrious swamps. But the principal cause of this torpor, which endured for centuries, is traceable to the actions of man. The conquerors who succeeded the Romans and Byzantines in the possession of the island, whether Saracens, Pisans, Genoese, or Aragonese, monopolized its produce solely with a view to their own profit, and further mischief was wrought by the pirates of Barbary, who frequently descended upon its coasts. As recently as 1815 the Tunisians landed upon Sant’ Antioco, massacring the inhabitants, or carrying them into slavery. The coast districts became depopulated, and the inhabitants retired to the interior, where, oppressed by their feudal lords, they led a life of isolation from the rest of Europe. It is hardly a generation since Sardinia began to participate in the general progress made throughout Italy.

Sardinia is nearly as large as Sicily, but has only a fourth of its population.117 Geographically it is more independent of Italy than the southern island, and a profound sea, more than 1,000 fathoms in depth, divides it from the African continent. Sardinia with Corsica forms a group of twin islands, which is separated from the Tuscan archipelago by a narrow strait only 170 fathoms in depth. The geological structure of the two islands is identical, and there can be no doubt that the islands and rocks in the Strait of Bonifacio are the remains of an isthmus destroyed by the sea. On the other hand, we learn from a study of the geology of Sardinia that at a period not very remote that island must have consisted of several separate islands. The principal island formed a southerly continuation of the mountains of Corsica, whilst the smaller ones lay to the west. Alluvial deposits, volcanic eruptions, and perhaps, also, an upheaval of the soil, have converted the shallow straits which separated them into dry land.

The mountains of Sardinia may be said to begin with the islands of Maddalena and Caprera, in the Strait of Bonifacio, and in the mountain mass of the Gallura they attain already a considerable height. A depression separates these from the southern portion of the great back-bone of the island, which stretches along the whole of the eastern coast, and terminates abruptly at Cape Carbonaro. These mountains, like those of Corsica, consist of crystalline rocks and schists; but whilst the slope on the latter island is steepest towards the west, the reverse is the case on Sardinia, and that island may almost be said to turn its back upon Italy. The general slope of the island is towards the west, and its occupation by Spain could therefore be justified by purely geographical arguments.

The highest summits of the island are found in the central portion of this crystalline chain, where the Gennargentu, or “silver mountain,” rises to a height of 6,116 feet. A little snow remains in the crevices of this mountain throughout the summer. The inhabitants of Northern Sardinia formerly imagined that their own Gigantinu, or “giant,” in the mountains of Limbarra, constituted the culminating point of the island, but careful measurements have shown that that superb peak only attains an elevation of 4,297 feet.

The secondary mountain groups in the western portion of the island are separated from the main chain by recent geological formations. The granitic region of La Nurra, to the west of Sassari, almost uninhabited in spite of its fertile valleys, and the island of Asinara adjoining it, which abounds in turtles, are amongst these insulated mountain regions. Another, intersected by the beautiful valley of Domus Novas, occupies the south-western extremity of the island. Geologists look upon it as the most ancient portion of the island, and the plain of Campidano, which now occupies the site of an ancient arm of the sea, is of quaternary formation. The transversal range of Marghine occupies the centre of the island, and there, too, we meet with vast limestone plateaux pierced by volcanic rocks. The ancient craters, however, no longer emit lava, nor even gases, and the villagers have tranquilly built their huts within them. Thermal springs alone indicate the existence of subterranean forces. Volcanic cones of recent age are met with in the north-western portion of the island, as well as in the valley of the Orosei, on the east coast. The trachytic rocks of the islands of San Pietro and Sant’ Antioco are of greater age. They sometimes present the appearance of architectural piles, especially at the Cape of Columns, which is, however, rapidly disappearing, as the stone is being quarried to be converted into pavement. On Sant’ Antioco, which a bridge joins to the mainland, there are deep caverns, the haunts of thousands of pigeons, which are caught by spreading a net before their entrance.

In addition to the changes wrought by volcanic agencies, Sardinia exhibits traces of a slow upheaval or subsidence due to the expansion or contraction of the upper strata of the earth. Raised beaches have been discovered by La Marmora near Cagliari, at an elevation of 243 and 322 feet above the sea-level, where shells of living species are found together with potsherds and other articles, proving that when this upheaval took place the island was already inhabited. Elsewhere there exist traces of a subsidence, and the old Phœnician cities of Nora, to the south-west of Cagliari, and Tharros, on the northern peninsula of the Gulf of Oristano, have become partly submerged.

Amongst the rivers of the island there is only one which deserves that name. This is the Tirso, or Fiume d’Oristano, which is fed by the snows of the Gennargentu and the rains which descend on the western mountain slopes. Other rivers of equal length are hardly more than torrents, which at one time invade the fields adjoining them, and at another shrink to a thin thread of water meandering between thickets of laurel-trees. Most of the river beds are dry during eight months of the year, and even after rain the water does not find its way into the sea, but is absorbed by the littoral swamps.

All these swamps have brackish water. The largest amongst them communicate freely with the sea, at least during the rainy season, but others are separated from it by a strip of sand. But these, too, are brackish, for the sea-water percolates through the soil, and keeps them at the same level. The water of the inland swamps is likewise saturated with saline substances derived from the surrounding soil. They generally dry up in summer, but the coating of salt which then appears is hardly dry enough to repay the labour of collection and refinement. The only salt marshes actually exploited are those of Cagliari and of Carlo-Forte, on San Pietro. They have been leased to a French company, and yield annually nearly 120,000 tons of salt.

Swamps and marshes envelop nearly the whole of the island in a zone of miasmata, which are carried by the wind into the interior, producing fever even in the more elevated mountain districts. There are localities on the island the air of which no stranger can breathe with impunity. The coast districts of Sardinia, with their stagnant waters, are, in truth, the most unhealthy in Italy, and quite one-fourth of the area of the island is exposed to the scourge of malaria, which sufficiently accounts for the small population of the island and the little progress made.

Even when Sardinia was at the height of its prosperity, and supplied Rome with an abundance of corn, cheese, pork, lead, copper, iron, and textile fabrics, it was noted for its unhealthiness, and the emperors exiled to it those whom they desired to get rid of. Then, as now, the landed proprietors, about the middle of June, retired to the towns, the walls of which offered some protection against the poisonous air. The Italian Government officials are sent to the island as a punishment, and for the most part look upon themselves as condemned to death. Even the native villagers are bound to observe the greatest precautions, and wear garments of skin or leather which are impenetrable to rain, mist, and dew. They are dressed most warmly during the hottest part of the year as a protection against the climate, and in their long mastrucas of sheepskin they almost look like Wallachian herdsmen.

Ancient geographers, as well as the Sardinians themselves, ascribe the unhealthiness of the climate to the rarity of north-easterly winds. The mountains of Limbarra, in the north of the island, are popularly supposed to act as a sort of screen, which diverts this health-bringing wind, to the great detriment of Lower Sardinia; and there appears to be much truth in this popular notion. South-westerly winds, or libeccios, are almost equally rare, and when they blow they do so with tempestuous violence.

The regular winds of Sardinia blow from the north-west or south-east. The former is known as the maestrale, the latter as the levante or sirocco, called maledetto levante by the inhabitants of Southern Sardinia. It becomes charged with moisture during its passage across the Mediterranean, and its temperature is in reality much less than might be supposed from the lassitude produced by it. The maestrale, on the other hand, is hailed with joy, for it is an invigorating wind. On reaching the coast it generally parts with its moisture, and when it arrives at Cagliari it is perfectly dry. The capital of Sardinia is indebted to this wind and to sea breezes for its low temperature (62·4° F.), which is far lower than that of Genoa.

Hurricanes are comparatively rare, and hailstorms, which work such damage elsewhere, are hardly known. Most of the rain falls in autumn; it ceases in December, when the pleasantest season sets in. These are the “halcyon days” of ancient poets, when the sea calms down in order that the sacred bird may build his nest. But these pleasant days are succeeded by a wretched spring. February, the “double-faced month” of Sardinian mariners, brings capricious frosts, to which succeed, in March and April, abrupt changes of temperature, winds, and rain. Vegetation in consequence is far more backward than might be supposed from the latitude.

The vegetation of Sardinia resembles that of the other islands of the Mediterranean. The forest in the highland valleys of the interior and on the trackless mountain slopes consists of pines, oaks, and holm-oaks, mixed here and there with yoke-elms and maples. The villages are surrounded by chestnut-trees and groves of magnificent walnut-trees. The hill-tops, robbed of their forests, are covered with odoriferous plants and thickets of myrtles, strawberry-trees, and heather. It is there the bees collect the bitter honey so much despised by Horace. Vast tracts of uncultivated land near the seashore are covered with wild olive-trees, which only need grafting to yield excellent fruit. All the fruit trees and useful plants of the Mediterranean flourish in Sardinia. Almond and orange trees, introduced by the Moors at the close of the eleventh century, flourish vigorously. The orange groves of Millis, which are protected by the extinct volcano of Monte Ferru, are, perhaps, the most productive on the shores of the Mediterranean, and in good seasons yield 60,000,000 oranges. The gardens of Domus Novas, Ozieri, and Sassari are of surprising fertility. In the southern part of the island, wherever the cultivated fields gain upon the lands covered with rock-roses, fennel, and lilies, they are fenced in with fig-trees. The fan-shaped foliage of the date-palm is seen near every town, and more especially in the environs of Cagliari. By a curious contrast the dwarf palm is not met with in the southern lowlands of the island, though their climate is almost African, but forms dense thickets in the solitudes of Alghero, in the north of the islands. The inhabitants eat the roots of this tree, as do also the Moors.

Although all the plants of neighbouring countries become easily acclimatized in Sardinia, that island is naturally poorer in species than are continental regions lying under the same latitude. There is nothing special about its flora, for the island is probably only a remnant of a larger tract of land which formerly joined Europe to Africa. As to the famous plant mentioned by ancient writers, which, eaten by mistake, produced fits of “sardonic laughter,” or even death, it does not appear to be peculiar to the island. Mimaut thinks, from the descriptions of Pliny and Pausanias, that the large-leafed water-parsley (Sium latifolium) is referred to.

The number of species of animals, like that of plants, is smaller in Sardinia than on the neighbouring continent. There are neither bears, badgers, polecats, nor moles. Vipers or venomous serpents of any description do not exist, and the only animal to be dreaded is the tarentula (arza, or argia), a sting from which can be cured only by dancing until completely exhausted, or by immersion in dung. The ordinary frog, though common in Corsica, does not exist, but European butterflies are numerous. The moufflon, which is, perhaps, the ancestor of our domestic sheep, and has been exterminated in nearly all the islands of the Mediterranean, still lives in the mountains of Corsica and Sardinia. Wild horses roamed over Sant’ Antioco as recently as the beginning of this century; myriads of rabbits burrow in the small islands lining the coast; and wild goats with long horns and yellow teeth inhabit the limestone island of Tavolara, in the Gulf of Terranova. These goats are descended from domestic animals abandoned at some former period. Caprera, the residence of Garibaldi, is named after the goats which formerly inhabited it, and animals of that kind recently introduced there quickly returned to a state of nature.

Naturalists have observed that the mammals of Sardinia are smaller than the same species living on the continent. The goat is the only exception to the rule. The stag, deer, wild boar, fox, wild cat, hare, rabbit, marten, and weasel are all of them smaller than the continental varieties. The same rule applies to domesticated animals, with the exception of the pig, which grows to a great size, especially where it is allowed to roam through oak forests. There is a variety of this animal whose hoofs are not cloven, and which ought, therefore, to be classed amongst solipeds. The horses and asses of Sardinia are dwarfs. But the horse is distinguished by great sobriety, sureness of foot, vigour, and endurance. If in addition to these advantages it possessed a more attractive exterior, it would rank among the most highly appreciated horses of Europe. As to the donkeys, though hardly larger than a mastiff, they are brave little animals, and frequently share with their masters the only room of their abode. The old-fashioned mills, resembling in every respect the Roman bas-reliefs which may be seen in the Vatican, are propelled by these donkeys, which thus materially contribute towards the support of their proprietors.

Sardinia abounds more than any other country of Western Europe in prehistoric remains. There are megaliths, known as “giants’ stones,” “altars,” or “long-stones,” as in Brittany, scarcely any of them showing traces of the chisel. Dolmens, however, are rare, and the genuineness of all is doubted. Amongst these monuments there are, perhaps, some which were connected with the worship of some Eastern deity, for Phœnicians and Carthaginians stayed for a considerable time upon the island, where they founded Caralis, Nora, Tharros, and other towns; and even during the time of the Romans it was customary to place Punic inscriptions upon the tombstones. The ruins of Tharros have yielded golden idols and other articles in large numbers, most of them being of Egyptian origin. But the principal witnesses to the civilisation of the ancient Sards are the curious structures known as nuraghi. They generally occupy the hill-tops, and, seen from a distance, resemble pyramids. The limestone plateau of Giara, near the centre of the island, is surrounded by masonry structures of this description, which abound also in other portions of the island, the number still existing being nearly 4,000. They are most numerous in the basaltic region to the south of Macomer, and are met with for the most part in fertile districts, far away from the arid steppes.

The origin and uses of these nuraghi have been a subject of much discussion, but archæologists now almost universally adopt the views of Signor Spano, the indefatigable explorer of Sardinian antiquities. According to him these nuraghi were dwellings, and their Phœnician name simply means “round house.” The rudest among them, dating back probably for forty centuries, contain but a single chamber. They were erected during the age of stone, when man first gave up his cavern dwellings. The more recent constructions date back to the age of bronze, and even of iron. More skill is exhibited in their structure, though no mortar has been used, and they contain two or more chambers, forming as many floors, and accessible by means of stone stairs. The ground floor of some is large enough for the accommodation of forty or fifty persons, and is furnished with antechambers and small semicircular recesses. The nuraghi of Su Domu or S’Orcu, near Domus Novas, which has recently been demolished, contained ten chambers and four courtyards; it was a fortress as well as a dwelling-place, capable of accommodating a hundred persons and standing a siege. The dwellings of the modern Albanians and of the Swaneti in the Caucasus still resemble these ancient abodes.

The rubbish which accumulated in these nuraghi has yielded a multitude of objects which throw light upon the daily life of the inhabitants, and bear witness to their relative civilisation. The lower strata only contain hand-made utensils, stone arms, and pottery, but in the upper and more recent layers many articles of bronze have been found. Other monuments of cyclopean structure stand near these ancient dwellings. They are popularly known as “giants’ tombs,” and Signor Sapi, who has examined a large number of them, has discovered in every instance the ashes of human beings.

Though very superstitious, the Sardinians have no legends respecting these dwellings of the aborigines, and at most attribute them to the devil. This absence of traditions is no doubt traceable to the almost total annihilation of the inhabitants by successive conquerors. The Carthaginians showed no mercy to the aborigines, and during the first centuries of Roman rule massacres and forcible emigration were the order of the day, and the gaps thus created were filled up by Italian colonists and exiles.

The ancient Sards were most likely Iberians. They are of low stature, and the climate, which has stunted the growth of wild and domesticated animals, appears to have influenced man likewise; but they are well proportioned and muscular, have an abundance of black hair and strong beards, and scarcely ever grow bald. There are minor differences in the Sards of the two provinces. Those of the north have generally oval features and an aquiline nose, whilst those near Cagliari, who are probably more mixed, have irregular features and prominent cheek-bones.

The inhabitants of the interior of the island are, perhaps, of purer race than any other Europeans. Their ancestors, no doubt, were of the most diverse origin, but most invasions which took place after the Roman era stopped short at the coast. The Vandals paid a visit to Sardinia, but all the other Germanic tribes, who ravaged nearly every other country of Western Europe, spared that island, and its inhabitants were thus able to preserve their manners and language. The Moors, Pisans, Genoese, Catalonians, and Spaniards, who successively invaded the island, never penetrated beyond the coast. There is only one exception to this rule, viz. that of the Barbaricini, who inhabit the mountain district of Barbagia, in the very centre of the island, and who are supposed to be the descendants of Berbers expelled from Africa by the Vandals. When they came to the island they were still pagans, and they intermarried with their neighbours, the Ilienses, an aboriginal tribe, pagans like themselves. They were converted to Christianity in the seventh century, and the sombre dress worn by their women reminds us of Barbary.

Of all the idioms derived from the Latin, that spoken in Sardinia has most resemblance to the language of the ancient Romans. More than five hundred words are absolutely identical. There are likewise a few Greek words not met with in any other Latin idiom, as well as two or three words which have no affinity with any other European tongue, and which are, perhaps, derived from the language spoken by the aborigines. The two leading dialects, those of Logoduro, in the north, and of Cagliari, are directly derived from the Latin, and are, perhaps, most nearly related to Spanish. At Sassari, and in some of the neighbouring coast districts, an Italian dialect is spoken which is very much like that of Corsica or Genoa. At Alghero the descendants of the Catalonian immigrants who settled there about the middle of the fourteenth century still speak their old Provençal. The Maurelli, or Maureddus, in the environs of Iglesias, who are probably Berbers, and can be recognised by their narrow skulls, make use of a few African words. Maltzan looks upon the inhabitants of the fertile district of Millis as the purest representatives of African immigrants, and it was they who introduced the cultivation of the orange into Sardinia.

The Sardinians of the interior not only retain their ancient language, but likewise many of their ancient customs. Their dances are still the same as in the time of Greece. In the north the steps are regulated by the human voice, the chanters occupying the centre of the ring. In the south a musical instrument, the launedda, is used, which is nothing but an ancient flute, made of two or three reeds. The customs observed at christenings, weddings, and funerals are likewise of remote date. Marriage, as amongst nearly all the ancient inhabitants of Europe, is preceded by a feigned abduction of the bride. The latter, after she has entered the house of her husband, must not stir from her place during that day, nor speak a single word. Mute as a statue, she is no longer a sentient being, but a “thing,” the property of her husband. She is not permitted to see her relatives during three days, and in the south many women partly conceal their features.

The mountaineers likewise observe the lugubrious ceremony of a wake, called titio or attito. Women, who are either the friends of the deceased or are engaged for the purpose, penetrate the mortuary chamber, tear their hair, howl, and improvise hymns of mourning. These old pagan ceremonies become truly terrific when the deceased has been the victim of assassination, for in that case the mourners swear to take the life of the murderer. Up to the beginning of this century the practice of the vendetta annually cost the lives of hundreds of young men. At the present day it is confined to the most secluded parts of the island, and in the mountain districts of Nuoro and La Gallura it is customary at christenings to place a few bullets in the swaddling-clothes of the infants, these consecrated bullets being supposed never to miss their mark. Another custom still more barbarous has ceased to be observed since the beginning of the last century. Women, called “finishers” (accabadure), were employed to hasten the end of dying persons, a practice which often led to the most atrocious deeds.

The peasant of Sardinia, though not the proprietor of the soil, is nevertheless permitted to enjoy the result of his labour. The feudal system existed up to 1840, and many traces of it still survive. The great barons, most of them of Spanish extraction, were almost the absolute masters of the country, and up to 1836 they administered the law, had their prisons, and erected gallows as a symbol of their power. The peasants, however, were not tied to the land, but could migrate at pleasure, and custom granted them a fair share of the produce of the soil. By virtue of an ademprivio they were permitted to cut wood in the forests, to pasture their sheep on the hills, and to bring into cultivation the waste lands of the plains. Agriculture was carried on in the most primitive fashion, for the great lords of the land usually resided abroad, and the management of their estates was left to bailiffs. Government has now become the proprietor of most of the unenclosed land, 80,000 acres of which have been ceded to the Anglo-Italian Company, which has undertaken to provide the island with a network of railways.

In the more densely populated districts the division of the land is exceedingly minute, and this subdivision is still progressing at a most disastrous rate. The nomad herdsmen, on the other hand, possess no land of their own, though, if inclined, they are at liberty to enclose a plot. But vague proprietary rights like these render the careful cultivation of the soil impossible. It has been seriously proposed to expropriate the whole of the land, and to sell it to a few enterprising capitalists, but this would simply amount to a restoration of the old feudal times, and poverty, which is great even now, would become greater. There are villages in the district of Ogliastra where the peasants eat bread made of the acorns of Quercus ilex, the dough being kneaded with water containing a fatty clay. This is, perhaps, the only instance of earth-eating in Europe. The Spaniards, too, eat acorn bread, but they use the fruit of Quercus ballota, which is really edible, and are careful not to mix its flour with earth.

The Sardinians, even when they are the owners of pasture-grounds or of fields, never live in the country. Like the Sicilians, they are concentrated in towns or large villages, and neither hamlets nor isolated farmhouses are met with. Even the shepherds in the mountains build their huts in groups called stazzi, and combine for mutual protection into cussorgie. Members of these associations, when they lose their cattle from disease or any other cause, may claim one or more beasts from every one of their comrades living within the same district or canton. In other parts of the island—as, for instance, near Iglesias—the produce of the orchards is looked upon as common property. The mountaineers, though poor, practise the ancient virtue of hospitality, and though the dwellings are rude, they find means of making a stranger staying amongst them comfortable.

The products of Sardinia form but a small proportion of those of all Italy. Most of the peasants only work by fits and starts, and hardly more than a fourth of the area of the island has been brought under cultivation. It sometimes happens that the crops are destroyed by the scorching heat of the sun, or eaten up by locusts, which come in swarms from Africa. Except near Sassari no attempt is made to improve the produce. The olive-tree alone is cultivated with some care, for the grower of a certain number of these trees may claim political privileges, and even the title of “Count,” and thousands of proprietors have converted their sterile steppes into productive olive groves. The millions of oranges grown in the gardens of Millis and elsewhere are taken entirely for home consumption. Commercially these oranges are of less importance than the saline plants collected in the marshes of the coast districts, and the ashes of which are exported to Marseilles to be converted into soda.

The working of granite and marble quarries yields some profit, but the mines, which were of such importance in the time of the Romans, are hardly touched now. There is only one iron mine, that of San Leone, where work has been carried on seriously by a French company since 1822. It yields about 50,000 tons of ore annually, and the oldest railway of the island connects that mine with Cagliari. The district of Iglesias, where the Romans founded Plumbea and Metalla, and the Pisans searched for silver, has recently regained some of its ancient importance on account of its lead and zinc mines. The waste of the old mines is likewise being scientifically treated by French, English, and Italian companies, to whom mining claims have been ceded, and a curious stalactite cavern which traverses the hill near Domus Novas has been utilised in gaining access to the scoriæ. Iglesias is rapidly growing into a city of modern aspect, the village of Gonessa is already a respectable town, and the little harbour of Porto Scuso, until recently almost deserted, is now crowded with small craft employed in carrying annually 900,000 tons of lead and zinc ore to the roadstead of Carlo-Forte. Unfortunately the miners, especially those from abroad, frequently succumb to the climate.

The fisheries, being for the most part carried on in the bays exposed to the sea breezes, are not attended by the same dangers. Certain portions of the coast abound in fish, such as the Bay of Cagliari, and the narrow arms of the sea in the archipelago of the Maddalena, which the ancients searched for purple shells. Anchovies and “sardines” periodically visit the coasts, and as many as 50,000 tunny-fish are sometimes caught in a single season. The swamps or lagoons likewise yield fish, which are caught in nets spread at the openings of the channels communicating with the sea. The swamp of Cagliari abounds in shad, that of Oristano in mullets and eels, and that of Alghero in pike and gold fish. The fisheries of Sardinia are consequently of much importance, but most of their profits are reaped by strangers. Corsicans fish near La Maddalena, Genoese around San Pietro, and Italians monopolize the coral fisheries. These latter, too, collect the Pinna nobilis, a shell, the silky byssus of which is converted into stuff for garments. Nor do the Sardinians take to the sea as sailors, and the commerce of the island is carried on almost exclusively in Genoese and other Italian vessels. Out of 2,400 proverbs collected by Spano, only three refer to the sea! 118

The inhabitants of the northern “Cape” of Sassari, or di Sopra, claim to be more intelligent and civilised than those of the southern “Cape” of Cagliari, or di Sotto. The former do not call themselves Sardinians at all, but apply that name, which to them is synonymous with barbarians, to the inhabitants of the interior and of the south. In former times these two sections of the population hated each other, and the spirit of the vendetta, which set family against family, village against village, made its influence felt all over the island. This old animosity has not yet completely died out; but the people of Sassari can no longer claim to be the superiors of their southern neighbours. They certainly are better agriculturists and more industrious, but the southerners possess the richest mines, their portion of the island is most productive, and it is the seat of the capital.

Cagliari, the ancient Caralis, has remained the great emporium of the island since the days of Carthage. Only a few idols, sepulchral chambers, the ruins of an aqueduct, and an amphitheatre excavated in the rock, recall the dominion of Carthaginians and Romans, but it could not be deprived of its excellent harbour and magnificent roadstead. The town was only a short time under the rule of the Moors, but its physiognomy is almost more oriental than that of any city in Europe, many of its houses being provided with cupolas and balconies overhanging the streets. Its position as a place of commerce is most favourable, for it lies on the ocean highway connecting Sicily with the Balearic Islands, and the coast of Africa is within a day’s sail. It is sure to prosper, especially if a serious effort is made to drain the marshes and to transform the plain of the Campidano into a fertile garden. The latter, an ancient arm of the sea, extends to the south-east towards Oristano, the “town of potters.” During the Middle Ages the latter was the seat of the most powerful lords of the island, and it was thence Eleonora promulgated her famous Carta de logu, which became the public law of the whole island. Oristano has an excellent harbour, sheltered by the peninsula of Tharros, upon which the Phœnicians had founded one of their settlements; its fields are fertile, and, to bring about a return of its ancient prosperity, it is only necessary to drain the marshes which now hem it in. In former times fires were lighted upon the walls of the town during the season of malaria, to purify the atmosphere; but the vast forests from which the fuel for these fires was procured have disappeared, and this portion of Sardinia is no longer entitled to its ancient epithet of “Arborea.” It is said that in the marshes of Nurachi, to the north-east of Oristano, may be heard now and then a noise resembling the bellowing of a bull. This noise is probably produced by the passage of air through some subterranean cavern, and similar phenomena have been observed on the coast of Dalmatia.

Sassari the delightful, the rival of Cagliari, is embosomed amidst olive-trees, gardens, and country houses. It alone, of all the towns of the island, could boast of a republican government during the Middle Ages, and the public spirit of its present inhabitants is, perhaps, traceable to this circumstance. Its geographical position, however, is far less favourable than that of Cagliari, for a zone of swamps separates it from the sea. It might export its produce through the port of Alghero or the excellent harbour of Porto Conto, to the south of the mountains of La Nurra; but facility of access has dictated its choice of Porto Torres, a miserable village on the swampy shore of the Gulf of Asinara. Porto Torres occupies the site of a Roman city, and the arches of a huge aqueduct and the columns of a Temple of Fortune still rise above the reeds. This old port certainly offers great facility for the export of the olive oil of Sassari and the wines of Tempio, as respects France and Genoa; but the intricate navigation of the Strait of Bonifacio separates it from the nearest Italian coast. Italy has therefore determined to create an additional port on the east coast of the island, and the Bay of Terranova has been selected for that purpose. Olbia, which at the time of the Romans had no less than 150,000 inhabitants, occupied the site of the present town, which the Italians fondly imagine may become the great emporium of the island. Its port is certainly well sheltered, and the roadsteads of the archipelago of La Maddalena near it afford additional accommodation; but seriously to improve the condition of Sardinia it will be necessary, above all things, to drain its dreary swamps, and to “transform their poisonous exhalations into bread.” 119

IX — The Present and Future of Italy

No impartial spectator can deny that Italy, since it has again taken its place among the nations of Europe, promises great things for the future. Even its political regeneration has brought to the surface men of the highest intellect, courage, zeal, and public spirit. There are some amongst them whom posterity will look upon as a credit to all mankind. Possibly this period of excitement and nervous activity may be succeeded by a sort of moral collapse, such as generally takes place after every great crisis in the life of a nation. But this need not render us anxious for the future, for generations exhausted by the efforts they have made will be succeeded by others eager to continue the work their predecessors have begun.

In sciences and arts the native country of Volta, Cialdi, Secchi, Rossini, Verdi, and Vela occupies even now a position of equality with the most advanced nations of Europe. The Italian of the present day is able to refer without shame to the two great centuries of the Renaissance, for he has entered upon a second period of regeneration, and the names of contemporaries can be mentioned by the side of the great names of the past. Italy has its skilful painters and sculptors, its celebrated architects and unrivalled musicians. The great works achieved by its engineers are deserving the study of foreigners. Amongst its physicists, geologists, astronomers, and mathematicians there are some of the brightest ornaments of the age, and the assiduity with which universities are frequented insures their having worthy successors. A geographical society only recently established has successfully taken up the work of exploration so gloriously carried on by the Genoese and Venetians. It is not just, therefore, to say ironically that “Italy has been made, but not Italians.” Individually the Italians are inferior to no other race of Europe, and the reorganization of the country would have been impossible had there been any deficiency in men of mark.

Italy is more densely inhabited than any other of the great states of Europe, in spite of vast extents of almost uninhabitable mountain tracts and swamps. The population, however, increases less rapidly than in Russia, England, or Germany. It doubles in about a century, whilst that of Russia doubles in fifty and that of France in two hundred years. Italy thus occupies an intermediate position. In Apulia and Calabria, which are amongst the poorest provinces, the birth rate is highest, whilst in the wealthy Marches and Umbria it is lowest. On an average the Italian dies when he is thirty-two, and his life is consequently much shorter than that of the average Frenchman or Englishman.

Agriculture and the development of the natural resources of the soil and the sea engage much more attention than industry properly so called. Nearly fifty per cent. of the total area is under cultivation. The cereals raised do not suffice for the wants of the inhabitants, but other products are exported in considerable quantities. In its production of oil Italy holds a foremost rank as regards quantity, but not always with respect to quality. The amount of fruit grown, such as figs, grapes, almonds, and oranges, is greater than in any other country of Europe. The chestnut forests in the Apennines and Alps yield rich harvests. Its mulberry plantations are four times more extensive than those of France, and the raw silk produced in favourable years exceeds in quantity that exported from China. The peninsula is still entitled to its ancient epithet of Œnotria (wine land), but, apart from certain districts of continental Italy and Sicily, the quality of wine produced, owing to carelessness on the part of the growers, is inferior to what it is in France. The cultivation of cotton is comparatively of small importance. The breeding of animals yields large profits, and Italy is noted throughout Europe for the quality of some kinds of cheese.120

The working of the iron mines of Elba, the quarrying of marble and granite in the Alps and Apuanic Alps, the extraction of borax and boracic acid in the Tuscan Sub-Apennines, the mining for lead and zinc in Sardinia, and for sulphur in Sicily,121 lead up to industrial pursuits properly so called. These latter extend nearly to everything, from the manufacture of pins to the construction of steam-engines and ships. Italy, however, is eminent only in the production of certain articles de luxe, such as straw bonnets, cameos, coral jewellery, glass, and in the preparation of macaroni and other farinaceous pastes. The manufacture of silk, however, has taken a rapid development in recent years, and Milan has become a dangerous rival of Lyons. In the province of Novara, and more especially at Biella, there are hundreds of woollen factories. The cotton manufacture is not of much importance, and linen-weaving is for the most part carried on as a domestic industry. Italy, in fact, cannot yet be called a manufacturing country. The number of workmen is large, but they mostly labour at home or in small workshops,122 and a division of labour, such as exists in England, France, or Germany, is hardly known. Manufactories, however, are rapidly increasing, and economical conditions are gradually becoming what they are already in most other countries of Europe.

Italy possesses a powerful mercantile marine, manned by 150,000 seamen; but its foreign commerce is far less than might have been expected from its tonnage.123 Most of the vessels are engaged in the coasting trade. The first Italian vessel was seen in the Pacific in 1847, and even now the Italian flag is very inadequately represented in the navigation of the great oceans. Italian patriots are anxious to see the commerce of the country extended to the most distant regions. For the present Italy enjoys a sort of monopoly in the Mediterranean, and any increase of population or wealth in Northern Africa must prove of immediate advantage to it. But there can be no doubt that the proposed railway from Antwerp or Calais to Saloniki or Constantinople will seriously affect the transit trade of Italian ports. Nor are Italian shipowners able to compete with their rivals of Marseilles or Trieste when it is a question of speed, for the number of their steamers is very small.

The facilities for carrying on coasting trade have, in some measure, interfered with the development of the inland trade of the country. The construction of railways, however, is gradually bringing about a change. Already five lines of rails cross the Apennines, others are projected, and one of the Italian railways, namely, that which pierces the Alps in the tunnel of Mont Cenis, and finally follows the eastern coast to Rimini, has become a portion of the great European highway to India. Nor must the political importance of these railways be underrated, for they knit together the most distant provinces of Italy, and make the country really one.124

The commerce of Italy has increased rapidly of late, but it is still inferior not only to that of England, France, Germany, Austria, and Russia, but likewise to that of much smaller countries, like Belgium and the Netherlands. In 1875 the imports, including transit, were estimated at £48,614,280, the exports at £42,301,800. France participates in this commerce to the extent of 31 per cent., England is represented by 23, Austria by 20, and all the other countries of the world share in the remainder. Recently the commerce with North and South America has assumed considerable proportions, and efforts are being made to obtain a footing in Eastern Asia.

The great scourge of Italy consists in the poverty of its peasantry even in the most fertile provinces, as in Lombardy and the Basilicata. These peasants live in foul hovels, and the united earnings of a whole family are hardly sufficient to procure bread. Chestnuts, and a polenta of maize and paste made of damaged flour, are the principal articles of food, and nothing is left for luxuries, or even comfortable clothing. Rickets and other diseases brought about by an insufficiency of food are common, and, in fact, mortality is very great. Emigration is under these circumstances of immense advantage to the country, for the thousands of Italians who seek work or found new homes in South America, the United States, France, Turkey, Egypt, and elsewhere, not only earn their bread, but also render some assistance to those of their relatives who remain behind. It is said that out of 500,000 Italians living abroad, no less than 100,000 are engaged in art, either as painters, sculptors, or musicians, the latter being frequently mere street-singers or organ-grinders.

Ignorance, the usual companion of poverty, is still very great throughout the peninsula. We might err in condemning the Italians because of their ignorance of the arts of reading and writing, for, as the heirs of an ancient civilisation, they are more polished in their manners than the educated peasants of the North. Still this ignorance is most deplorable, for it precludes all progress. Nearly two-thirds of the population over ten years of age are unable to read, and fifty-nine men and seventy-eight women out of every hundred are unable to sign the marriage registers. There are several thousand parishes without elementary schools, and the number of pupils, instead of amounting to the normal proportion of one to every six or seven inhabitants, is only one to about eleven.125 Education, however, is making fair progress, but its influence upon the diminution of crimes of violence has hitherto been small. In 1874 Signor Cantelli, the Home Secretary, stated that there occurred annually 3,000 homicides, 4,000 cases of highway robbery, and 30,000 violent assaults.

The permanent confusion of the finances of Italy, attended as it is by heavy and vexatious taxes, must be looked upon as one of the principal causes which retard the development of the country. The national debt may appear a small matter if we compare it with that of France, but it has been raised in the course of a single generation, and is augmenting from year to year. The revenue increases but the expenditure does so likewise, and the additional income resulting from an increase of taxation and the sales of Church property is not sufficient to cover the deficiency. The heavy cost of the army, an absence of sustained efforts in carrying on public works, waste and fraud by public servants, have hitherto prevented the establishment of a balance between income and expenditure, and the paper money issued by Government is nowhere accepted at its nominal value.

This disorganization of the finances places Italy at the mercy of foreigners, and the arrangements which have to be made from time to time with foreign capitalists are not always of a purely financial nature. The inefficiency of her military and naval organization, moreover, compels her to cultivate foreign alliances as expediency may direct, and to these alliances Italy is, in a large measure, indebted for her political unity.126

Nor is this unity even now as perfect as could be desired. The Pope has been deprived of his temporal power; he resides at the Vatican as a guest; and the money offered him by the Italian Government, but which has never been accepted, is not tribute, but a gratuity. But, in spite of this, the Pope is still a real power, and his very presence interferes substantially with the permanent establishment of the state. The Catholics of the world have not yet acquiesced in his disestablishment, and they allow no opportunity for attacking the new order of things to escape them. Political Europe is consequently much interested in the home affairs of Italy, and feels tempted frequently to intervene. The most expert diplomacy may not be able to avert this danger, and if there is a struggle it will certainly not be confined to the peninsula.

In the end Italy will no doubt escape from the anomalous position of having for her capital a city which is the seat of a theocratic government claiming the allegiance of the Roman Catholics of the entire world. The geographical conditions of no other country are equally favourable to the development of national sentiments and the maintenance of a national individuality. At the same time the well-defined boundaries of the country deprive it of all force of expansion. Italy will never play a great part beyond the bounds of the Mediterranean, and though Italian may obtain a certain preponderance in Tunis, Egypt, and the Levant, the noble language of Dante has no chance, as regards universality, when opposed to English, French, Spanish, German, or Russian.

X — Government and Administration

The charter promulgated in March, 1848, declares the old kingdom of Sardinia to be an hereditary constitutional monarchy. It has gradually been extended to the other portions of the peninsula. Like most similar documents, it guarantees equality before the law, personal liberty, and inviolability of the domicile. The press is free, “subject to a law repressing its abuses;” the right of meeting is recognised, “but not in the case of places open to the general public;” and all citizens are promised the enjoyment of equal civil and political rights, “except in those cases which shall be determined by law.”

The executive is intrusted to the King, but no law or act of government is valid unless countersigned by a minister. The King, as such, is commander of the naval and military forces, he concludes all treaties, and the assent of the Chambers is only required if they concern cessions of territory, or entail an expenditure of public money. All Government officials are appointed by the King, he may dissolve the Chamber of Deputies, justice is administered in his name, and he possesses the right of pardon. He enjoys the fruits of the Crown lands, and may dispose of his private property without reference to the general laws of the country. The civil list of the King and the members of his family annually exceeds £800,000!

Senators are appointed by the King from amongst ecclesiastical, military, and civil functionaries, persons of wealth, and men who have deserved well of the country. Their number is not limited, and they must be forty years of age. Deputies are elected for five years. They must be thirty years of age. Neither senators nor deputies are in receipt of emoluments, and this may explain the little zeal they exhibit in the performance of their public duties. A quorum, consisting of one-half the members of each house plus one, is frequently unattainable for weeks.

The franchise is enjoyed by professors of universities and colleges, civil servants, knights of orders of chivalry, members of the liberal professions, merchants, persons who have an income of £24 from money invested in Government securities, and all others twenty-five years of age, able to read and write, and paying 32s. in taxes. The number of electors is about 400,000, but hardly one-half of them ever go to the poll.

Each province occupies the position of a “corporation,” which may hold property, and enjoys a certain amount of self-government. The “Provincial Councils” consist of from twenty to sixty members, who are chosen by the municipal electors for five years. These Councils usually occupy themselves with the material interests of the province, and, when not sitting, are represented by a “Deputation” charged with controlling the acts of the prefect.

The municipal organization is very similar to that of the provinces. The Councils are elected for five years: all males of twenty-one years of age paying from 4s. to 20s. in taxes (according to the importance of the municipality), professors, civil servants, members of liberal professions, and soldiers who have been decorated are in the enjoyment of the franchise. The Council meets twice a year, and its sittings are held in public if a majority demands it. It appoints a municipal giunta of from two to twelve members, charged with the conduct of current affairs. The mayors, like the provincial prefects, are appointed by Government, but must be chosen from the members of the Municipal Council.

The great territorial divisions of the kingdom (see p. 362) consist of 69 provinces and 284 circles (circondarii), or districts. These latter again are subdivided into 1,779 judicial districts (mandamenti) and 8,360 communes. The central Government is represented in the provinces by a prefect, in the districts by a sub-prefect, and in the communes by a mayor, or sindaco. This system of administration is very much like that existing in modern France.

The administration of justice was organized in 1865. In each commune there is a “Conciliator,” appointed for three years by Government, on the presentation of the Municipal Council. A “Pretor” administers justice at the capital of each of the judicial districts: he is assisted by one or more Vice-pretors. Next follow 161 civil and correctional courts, 92 assize courts, 24 courts of appeal, 25 commercial tribunals, and 4 courts of cassation; the latter at Florence, Naples, Palermo, and Turin. The Code of Laws is an adaptation of the Code Napoléon, and breathes the same spirit.

In military matters Prussia has served as a model. Every Italian, on attaining his twenty-first year, becomes liable to serve in the army or navy. Men embodied in the first category of the standing army (esercito permanente) remain from three to five years under the colours, according to the arm to which they belong, and six to seven years on furlough. The men of the second category, or reserve of the standing army, drill fifty days, and are then dismissed to their homes. The “mobilised militia” includes all men up to forty not belonging to the standing army. A “levy en masse,” or Milizia stanziole, is provided for by law, but nothing has been done hitherto to render it a reality. The standing army includes 90 regiments of infantry, 20 regiments of cavalry, 14 of artillery, and 1 of engineers, and numbers 410,000 men; the reserve amounts to 180,000 men; the mobilised militia (247 battalions, 24 Alpine companies, 60 batteries, and 10 companies of engineers), 277,000, and 234,000 officers and men are stated to be under the colours. The four great fortresses of the north are Verona, Mantua, Peschiera, and Legnago. These form the famous “Quadrilateral.” Venice is likewise a place of great strength, and made an heroic defence in 1849. Palmanova defends the frontier between the Julian Alps and the Gulf of Trieste. Rocca d’Anfo, on an isolated rock to the north of Lake Garda, commands the defiles of the Adige and Chiese. Pizzighettone, on the Adda, is no longer of much importance, now that Italy has acquired possession of the Quadrilateral; but Alessandria, at the confluence of the Tanaro and Bormida, will always retain its rank as the great strategical centre of Piemont, and one of the strongest places of Europe. Casale may be looked upon as one of its outworks, and together with Genoa defends the passages of the Apennines. Piacenza and Ferrara command important passages of the Po. The other fortresses of Italy are Ancona in the centre; Porto Ferrajo in Elba; Gaeta, Capua, and Taranto in the south; and Messina in Sicily.

The navy consists of 21 ironclads (179 guns, engines of 11,310 horse-power, 76,842 tons) and 51 wooden steamers, manned by 20,000 seamen. The great naval arsenals and stations are at Spezia, Genoa, Naples, Castellamare di Stabbia, Venice, Ancona, and Taranto.

The Roman Catholic Church alone is acknowledged by the State, but all other religions are tolerated. The conflict between Church and State is favourable to the spread of Protestantism; but, apart from the Waldenses and a few foreigners in the larger towns, there are no Protestants in Italy. Many of those, however, who are nominally Catholics have ranged themselves amongst the enemies of their Church, or are perfectly indifferent.

Italy occupies quite a special position in the world, owing to its being the seat of the Papacy. Rome is the seat of two governments, viz. that of the King and of the Sovereign Pontiff. The latter, though shorn of his temporal power, is in principle one of the most absolute monarchs. Once elected Vicar of Jesus Christ by the cardinals met in conclave, he is responsible to no one for his actions, though it is customary for him to listen to the advice of the Sacred College of Cardinals before deciding questions of importance. The Pope alone, of all men, is infallible; he can efface the crimes of others, “bind and unbind,” and holds the keys of heaven and hell, his power extending thus beyond the span of man’s natural life.

The cardinals are the great dignitaries of this spiritual government. They are created by the Pope. Their number is limited to 70, viz. 6 Cardinal Bishops (who reside at Rome), 50 Cardinal Priests, and 14 Cardinal Deacons. The Cardinal Camerlengo represents the temporal authority of the Holy See, and on the death of a pope he takes charge of the Vatican and of the Fisherman’s Key, which is the symbol of the power bestowed upon St. Peter and his successors. In special cases the cardinals of the three orders may be convoked to an Œcumenical Council. On the death of a pope the cardinals elect his successor, who must be fifty-five years of age, and obtain two-thirds of the votes. His investment with the pallium and tiara, however, only takes place after the assent of the Governments of France, Spain, Austria, and Naples (now represented by Italy) has been secured.

In virtue of the formula of “A free Church in a free State,” so frequently repeated since Cavour, the Pope is permitted to enjoy sovereign rights. He convokes councils and chapters, appoints all ecclesiastical officers, has his own post-office and telegraph, his guard of nobles and of Swiss, pays no taxes, and enjoys in perpetuity the palaces of the Vatican and Lateran, as well as the villa of Castel-Gandolfo, on the Lake of Albano. In addition to this, he has been voted by the Italian Parliament an annual “dotation” of £129,000. This grant, however, he has not touched hitherto, but the “Peter’s pence,” collected by the faithful in all parts of the world, amount to more than double that sum.

Italy is divided into 47 archiepiscopal and 206 episcopal sees. There are more than 100,000 secular priests, and in 1866, when the monasteries and convents were suppressed, their inmates receiving pensions from Government, there were 32,000 monks and 44,000 nuns. The ecclesiastical army consequently numbers 176,000 souls, and is nearly as numerous as the military force on a peace footing.

The following table exhibits the area and population (estimated for 1875) of the great territorial divisions of Italy:—

	Area. Square miles.	Population.
Piemont	11,301	2,995,213
Liguria	2,056	865,254
Lombardy	9,084	3,553,913
Venetia (Venezia)	9,060	2,733,406
Emilia	7,921	2,153,381
Umbria	3,720	563,582
Marches	3,748	930,712
Tuscany	9,287	2,172,832
Rome (Latium)	4,601	839,074
Abruzzos—Molise	6,676	1,302,966
Campania	6,941	2,807,450
Apulia (Puglie)	8,539	1,464,604
Basilicata	4,122	517,069
Calabria	6,663	1,229,614
Sicily	11,290	2,698,672
Sardinia	9,398	654,432
Total	114,407	27,482,174

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