Chapter X: Part 10

To the west of Belgrad we merely meet with hills, and with the fertile plains watered by the Kolubara. It is only towards the south-west, on nearing the Drina, that we again find ourselves in the midst of calcareous mountains, attaining a height of 3,630 feet, and connected with spurs of the Kopaonik in the south. This is one of the most picturesque portions of the country. Ruins of houses and fortresses abound, amongst which those of Ushitza are the most extensive. These fortresses have, however, failed to protect the country, and no portion of Servia has more frequently been laid waste by ruthless invaders.

In former times Servia could boast of some of the most extensive oak forest in Europe. “To kill a tree is to kill a Servian,” says an ancient proverb, dating probably from the time when the forests afforded shelter to the oppressed rayas. This proverb, unfortunately, is no longer acted upon. In many parts of the country the forests have disappeared, and the naked rock obtrudes itself as in {175} Dalmatia and Carniola. A peasant in need of a branch cuts down an entire tree, and the herdsmen are not content to feed their bivouac fires with dry sticks, but must needs have an oak. The greatest enemies of the forests, next to herdsmen, are goats and hogs, the former browsing upon small trees and leaves, the latter laying bare the roots. An old tree, thrown down by a tempest or sacrificed to the woodman’s axe, is not replaced. Laws for the protection of the forests have certainly been passed, but they are not enforced, and the wood required for fuel has to be imported, in many instances, from Bosnia. The destruction of the forests has naturally been attended by a deterioration of the climate. Mr. Edward Brown, who travelled in Servia in the seventeenth century, tells us that the Morava was then navigable for the greater part of its course; but at the present time, owing to its irregularities, it is no longer available as a navigable channel.

Servia, by despoiling the mountains of great forests, has got rid of the wild animals which formerly infested them. Wolves, bears, wild boars, previously so numerous, have almost disappeared, and those still met with occasionally are supposed to come from the forests of Syrmia, crossing the frozen Save in winter. The fauna and flora of Servia are gradually losing their original features. The introduction of the domesticated animals and cultivated plants from Austria has given to Servia a South German aspect. Nor does the climate much differ from some parts of Southern Germany. Servia, though under the same latitude as Tuscany, rejoices by no means in an Italian climate. The Dalmatian or Bosnian mountain ramparts shut out the vivifying south-westerly winds, whilst the dry and cold winds from the steppes of Russia have free access over the plains of Wallachia. Strangers do not readily acclimatise themselves, owing to abrupt changes of temperature.[55]

Servia includes within its limits but a small proportion of all the Servians of Eastern Europe, but its inhabitants are probably not far wrong when they look upon themselves as the purest representatives of their race. They are, as a rule, tall, vigorous, with broad shoulders and an erect head. Their features are marked, the nose straight and often aquiline, and the cheek-bones a trifle prominent; the hair is abundant and rarely black, the eyes are piercing and cold, and a well-cultivated moustache imparts a military air to the men. The women, without being good-looking, have a noble presence, and their semi-oriental costume is distinguished by an admirable harmony of colours. Even in the towns, where French fashions carry the day, Servian ladies occasionally wear the national dress, consisting of a red vest, a belt and chemisette embroidered with pearls, strings of sequins, and a little fez stuck jauntily upon the head.

Unfortunately the custom of the country requires that a Servian woman should have an abundance of black hair and a dazzling white complexion. Paint, dyes, and false tresses are universal in town and country. Even in the most remote villages the peasant women dye their hair and paint their cheeks, lips, {176} and eyebrows, frequently making use of poisonous substances injurious to health. Rich country-people are, moreover, in the habit of making an exhibition of their wealth by means of their clothes, which they overload with gold and silver ornaments and gewgaws of every kind. In some districts brides and young women wear a most extraordinary head-dress, consisting of an enormous crescent of cardboard, to which are attached nosegays, leaves, peacock feathers, and artificial roses with silver petals. This heavy head-dress may symbolize the “burdens of matrimony;” it certainly exposes the wearer to great inconvenience.

The Servians are honourably distinguished amongst the people of the East by the nobility of their character, their dignified bearing, and, in spite of recent events, incontestable bravery. For centuries they resisted oppression, and, notwithstanding their isolation and poverty, they conquered their independence in the beginning of this century. They are said to be idle and suspicious—qualities which their former servitude accounts for—but at the same time honest and truthful. It is difficult to cheat them, but they themselves never cheat. Equals when under the dominion of the Turks, they are equals still. “There are no nobles amongst us,” they say, “for we are all nobles.” In their clear and sonorous language, so well suited to oratory, they fraternally address each other in the second person singular. Even prisoners are looked upon as brothers, and it is customary to permit a condemned criminal to visit his family on his giving his word of honour to return to prison.

The ties of family and friendship are a great power in Servia. It frequently happens that young men who have learnt to like each other take an oath of fraternal friendship, in the manner of the brothers in arms of Scythia, and this fraternity of heart is more sacred to them than that of blood. It is a remarkable fact, and one which speaks favourably for the high moral tone of the Servians, that their deep family affections and friendships do not lead to incessant acts of retaliation and vengeance, as amongst their neighbours the Albanians. The Servian is brave; he is always armed, but he is also peaceable, and does not demand blood for blood. Still, like other men, he is not perfect. As an agriculturist he follows the more obsolete routine. He is ignorant and superstitious. The peasants firmly believe in vampires, sorcerers, and magicians, and, in order to guard against their evil influences, they rub themselves with garlic on Christmas-eve.

Land is held by families in common, as amongst the other Slavs of the South. The ancient _zadruga_, such as it existed in the Middle Ages, is still preserved, and has never been interfered with by Roman or German laws, as in Dalmatia or Slavonia. On the contrary, the law of Servia protects this ancient form of tenure, and, in cases of a disputed will, relatives by adoption take precedence of those by blood. Servian patriots are desirous to see these ancient customs respected, and the members of the _Skupshtina_, or parliament, have never attacked this common proprietorship in the soil, for they look upon it as one of the surest safeguards against pauperism. Servia offers the best opportunity for studying agricultural {177} communities of this kind. Nowhere else are the features of family life equally delightful. The heavy day’s work is followed by an evening devoted to pleasure. The children gather round their parents to listen to the warlike legends of old, or the young men sing, accompanying themselves upon the _guzla_. All those belonging to the association are looked upon as members of the family. The _staryeshina_, or head of the community, has charge of the education of the children, whom he is required to bring up as “good and honest citizens, useful to their fatherland.” Yet, in spite of all these advantages, the _zadrugas_ decrease from year to year. The demands of commerce and industry interfere with their accustomed routine, and they will hardly survive much longer in their present form.

A great portion of Eastern Servia has been occupied by Wallachians, who were invited to the country after the war of independence, when vast districts had been depopulated. These new settlers, being more prolific than their neighbours, gradually gain upon the Servians, and already some of their colonies are met with on the western bank of the Morava. Many Servian villages have become Wallachian as far as language can make them so. It is a strange fact that these Rumanian colonists should prosper in Servia, whilst Servian colonists from Hungary and Slavonia do not.

Zinzares, or Southern Wallachians, are met with in most towns, where they work as masons, carpenters, and bricklayers.

Bulgarians have settled in the valleys of the Timok and Morava, in the south-east. They are highly esteemed for their industry, and quickly assimilate with the Servians. Near Alexinatz there is a small colony of Albanians, whilst Tsigani, or gipsies, are met with in all parts of the country. They profess to be Christians, and one of their principal occupations is the manufacture of bricks. The Spanish Jews, so numerous formerly at Belgrad, have most of them retired to Semlin, their places being filled by German and Hungarian Jews.[56]

Taken as a whole, Servia was a prosperous country before the recent war. The population has increased rapidly since the declaration of independence, but is not nearly as dense yet as in the neighbouring plains of Hungary or Wallachia. Scarcely one-eighth of the area is under cultivation, and agricultural operations are for the most part carried on in the rudest manner. Excepting in the most fertile valleys, such as that of the Lower Timok, the fields are allowed to lie fallow every second year. The exports of Servia clearly exhibit the rudimentary condition of its agriculture, for they consist principally of lean pigs, which find their way in thousands to the markets of Germany, and of cattle. The peasant of Servia derives most of his revenue from the sale of these animals. Within the last few years he has also exported some wheat to the markets of Western Europe. If it were not for the Bulgarian labourers who annually flock to the country in search of field-work, Servia would not produce sufficient corn for its own consumption.[57] {178}

Industry throughout the country is still in its infancy. The Servian despises all manual labour excepting agriculture, and it is for this reason he looks down upon the German mechanics in the towns. Young men of the least education aspire to government employment, and the bureaucratic plague, which has wrought such injury in the neighbouring Austro-Hungarian empire, is thus being developed. There are, however, others who have studied at foreign universities, and who devote their energies to the spread of education at home. The progress made in this respect within the last few years has been enormous. In 1839 the sovereign of the country could neither read nor write, whilst, at the present time, Servia, with its numerous schools and colleges, is becoming the intellectual centre of the Balkan peninsula.[58]

The Servians have used their best efforts to remove from their country everything reminding them of the ancient dominion of the Mussulman, and they have nearly accomplished this. The Belgrad of the Turks has been converted by them into a Western city, like Vienna or Buda-Pest; palaces in European style have arisen in the place of mosques and minarets; magnificent boulevards intersect the old quarters of the town; and the esplanade, where the Turks exposed the heads of their victims stuck on poles, has been converted into a park. Shabatz, on the Save, has become a “little Paris;” Semendria (Smederevo), on the Danube, which gave the signal of rebellion in 1806, has arisen like a phœnix from its ashes; whilst Posharevatz, known as Passarovitz in the history of treaties, has likewise been transformed. Progress is slower in the interior, but good roads now extend to the most remote corners of the country.

Servia is an hereditary constitutional monarchy. The Prince, or _Kniaz_, governs with the aid of responsible ministers and of a senate; he promulgates the laws, appoints all public functionaries, commands the army, and signs the treaties. He rejoices in a civil list of £20,000. His successor, in the case of there being no male heir, is to be elected by universal suffrage. The _Skupshtina_, or national parliament, traces back its origin to the earliest times of a Servian monarchy. It numbers 134 members, of whom one-fourth are nominated by the Prince, and the remainder elected by all male taxpayers. This parliament exercises legislative functions conjointly with the Prince. In addition to it there exist rural parliaments in each of the 1,063 _obshtinas_, or parishes, and these enjoy extended rights of local self-government. The constitution provides for the election of a _Skupshtina_ of 536 members by universal suffrage, should extraordinary events make such a meeting desirable. The affairs of the country have hitherto been managed satisfactorily. A revenue of £554,000 sufficed for the requirements of the State, and up to the outbreak of the war there existed no public debt.

Religious liberty exists, but the Greek Church is declared to be that of the State. It has been independent of the Patriarch of Constantinople since 1376, and {179} is governed by a synod consisting of the Archbishop of Belgrad and the Bishops of Ushitza, Negotin, and Shabatz. The former is appointed by the Prince. The high dignitaries of the Church are in receipt of salaries, but ordinary priests are dependent upon fees and gifts. The monasteries have been suppressed by a recent decision of the _Skupshtina_, and their revenues are to be devoted to educational purposes.

The military forces of the country consist of a standing army of about 4,000 men, and of a militia including all men capable of bearing arms up to fifty years of age. The first ban of this militia is called out annually for training, the second ban only in case of war. Servia is thus able to place an army of 150,000 men in the field, but the efficiency of these badly trained troops leaves much to be desired, as has been shown by recent events.

The country is divided into seventeen _okrushias_, or districts, viz. Alexinatz, Belgrad, Chachak, Chupriya, Knyashevatz, Kraguyevatz, Kraina (capital, Negotin), Krushevatz, Podrinye (Loznitza), Posharevatz, Rudnik (Milanovitz), Shabatz, Smederevo, Tserna-Reka (Zaichar), Ushitza, Valyevo, and Yagodina. The only towns of importance are Belgrad (27,000 inhabitants), Posharevatz (7,000 inhabitants), Shabatz (6,700 inhabitants), and Kraguyevatz (6,000 inhabitants).

MONTENEGRO.

The name Montenegro is a translation of the Servian Tsrnagora, or “black mountains.” It is a curious designation for a country of white or greyish calcareous mountains, whose colour even strikes the voyager on the Adriatic. The name, according to some, is to be taken figuratively, and is to be understood as designating a country of “bad” or “black” men; others are of opinion that it refers to ancient pine forests which have now disappeared.

The Turks have never succeeded in subjugating the Montenegrins, who found safety in their mountain fastnesses. Occasionally the Montenegrins placed themselves under the protection of a foreign power, such as that of Venice, but they never acknowledged the Sultan as their sovereign. The mountains, however, to which they owe their independence, are at the same time their weakness, for they isolate them from the rest of the world. A high range of mountains, as well as a strip of Turkish territory, separates them from their Servian kinsmen; another range, held by the Austrians, cuts them off from the Gulf of Cattaro and the Adriatic Sea. The small Lake of Scutari (Skodra) is their sea; the Zeta and Moracha, which feed it, are their national rivers. If the Montenegrins were permitted to descend into the plains without sacrificing their independence, the arid plateaux now inhabited by them would soon be deserted by all but shepherds.

The eastern portion of Montenegro, which is known as the Berda, and drained by the Moracha and its tributaries, is comparatively of easy access. The mighty dolomitic pyramids of the Dormitor (8,550 feet) command its valleys in the {180} north, whilst the rounded heights of Kom (9,000 feet) bound it on the east. The Berda differs in no respect from most other mountain countries. It is only in the western portion of the country, in Montenegro proper, that we meet with features altogether distinct. We there find ourselves in a labyrinth of cavities, valleys, and depressions, separated by craggy calcareous ridges, abounding in narrow fissures, the hiding-places of adders. Only the mountaineers are able to find their way in this inextricable labyrinth. “When God created the world,” they tell you laughing, “he held in his hand a sack full of mountains. Right above Montenegro the sack burst, and hence the fearful chaos of rocks which you see before you.”

Scale 1 : 1,590,000.]

Seen from an immense height, Montenegro resembles a vast honeycomb with thousands of cells, and this appearance is due to aqueous agencies. The water at one spot has scooped out wide valleys, whilst elsewhere its long-continued action has merely succeeded in producing narrow _rudinas_, or sink-holes. After heavy rains the waters accumulate into lakes, covering fields and pastures, but ordinarily they run off rapidly through sink-holes concealed by brambles, only to reappear again near the seashore as abundant springs of bluish water. The Zeta, the principal river of Montenegro, is fed by rivulets which are swallowed up in the valley of {181} Niksich to the north, and find their way to it through subterranean channels. Similar phenomena have already been noticed in connection with Bosnia (p. 127). The capital of Montenegro, Tsetinye (Cetinje), lies in the very midst of the mountains, in the centre of an ancient lake basin. Formerly it was accessible only by a most difficult mountain path, for the Montenegrins took care not to construct roads, which would open their country to the guns of their enemies. The requirements of commerce, however, have recently induced them to connect it with Cattaro by means of a carriage road.

The Montenegrins are the kinsmen of the Servians of the Danube, but their life of almost incessant warfare, the elevation and sterility of their country, as well as the vicinity of the Albanians, have developed special features amongst them. The quiet life of the plains is unknown to the Montenegrin; he is violent, and ready at all times to take up arms; in his belt he carries a whole arsenal of pistols and knives, and even when working in the fields he has a carbine by his side. Until recently the price of blood was still enacted, and a scratch even had to be paid for. This blood vengeance was transmitted from generation to generation, until the number of victims was equal on both sides, or a monetary compensation, usually fixed at ten sequins, had been accepted. Cases of hereditary vengeance are rare now, but the ancient “custom” could be suppressed only by a law of terrible severity, which punishes murderers, traitors, rebels, thieves twice convicted, incendiaries, and scoffers at religion alike with death. Compared with the Servian of the Danube, the Montenegrin is a barbarian. Nor is his personal appearance equally prepossessing. The women, however, have regular features, and, though less dignified in their carriage than their kinswomen of Servia, they possess, as a rule, more grace and elasticity of movement. They are very prolific, and if a family increases too rapidly it is customary for a friend to adopt one or more of the children.

Up to the invasion of the Osmanli the upper valleys of Montenegro were the home merely of herdsmen and brigands. But the inhabitants of the lower valleys were forced to retire to these austere heights in order to escape slavery. They cultivated the soil, bred cattle and sheep, and sometimes robbed their neighbours. But the sterile soil yielded only a scanty harvest, and famines were by no means unfrequent. Bosnian Uskoches, who fled to the mountains in order to escape Mussulman oppression, only added to the misery by reducing to a minimum the share of cultivable soil which fell to the lot of each family. The pastures are still held in common, in accordance with the ancient customs of the Servians. According to a recent census, Montenegro is said to have a population of nearly 200,000 souls. This may be an exaggeration, but the country is not even able to support 120,000 inhabitants without drawing supplies from beyond, and the armed incursions into neighbouring districts might thus be excused as an “economical necessity.” Death from hunger or on the field of battle was often the only alternative. The Montenegrin always prefers the latter, for he does not fear death, and “May you never die in bed !” is a wish universally expressed at the cradle of a new-born infant. If a man is unfortunate enough to die of disease, {182} or from old age, his friends excuse him euphemistically by charging the “Old Murderer” with his death.

The warlike incursions of former days have ceased now, for the boundaries of Montenegro have been defined by an international commission, and the mountaineers have established friendly relations with their neighbours, from whom they are able now to purchase what they require. In summer they permit the inhabitants of the coast to take their cattle into the hills, whilst in winter they themselves descend to the seaboard, where they are sure now of a friendly reception.

The Montenegrins have always been anxious to possess a port on the Adriatic, which would enable them to import freely, and without the intervention of the merchants of Cattaro, the powder, salt, and other articles they require, and to export their own produce. Their commerce, even now, is of some importance. They export smoked mutton, sheep and goats, skins, tallow, salt fish, cheese, honey, sumach, insect powder, &c., of an estimated value of £40,000 annually.

The Montenegrins, like their neighbours the Albanians, frequently leave their country for a time in order to seek work in the great cities of the East. Thousands of them are to be met in Constantinople, where they manage to live on friendly terms with the Turks, their “hereditary enemies.” They are even to be found in Egypt.

The Tsigani are the only strangers met with in the country. They resemble the Servians in language, dress, religion, and customs, and only differ from them by working at a useful trade, that of smiths. Their industry, however, causes them to be objects of disdain, and they are not permitted to intermarry with Servians.

The government of Montenegro is a curious mixture of democratic, feudal, and despotic institutions. The citizens fancy that they are equals, but they are not, for certain families exercise a powerful influence. The sovereign, who appropriates about half the revenue of the country, and receives 8,000 ducats annually from Russia in addition, appoints the members of the Senate, or _Sovyet_. The _Skupshtina_ includes the _glavars_, or chiefs, of the thirty-nine tribes (_plemena_), but has hitherto limited itself to applauding the “speech from the throne.” There is a body-guard of a hundred men, and the whole of the male population is bound to take the field under the leadership of Serdars. The country is divided into eight _nahiés_, or districts, of which four (Bielopavlichka, Uskochka, Morachka, and Vasoyevichka, with the country of the Kuchi), constitute the Berda, and four (Katunska, Liesanska, Riechka, and Tsermnichka) belong to Montenegro proper. Each of these districts is placed under a _kniaz_. The families and associations of families (_brastvos_) are governed by _hospodars_ and _starshinas_, dependent upon the tribal chiefs, or _glavars_.

{183}

ITALY.[59]

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 {184} 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 {185} 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. {186}

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 {187} 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, {188} 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] {189}

II.—THE BASIN OF THE PO.

PIEMONT,[61] 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 {190} 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. {191} 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.

From the Map of the French Alpine Club. Scale 1 : 228,000.]

Most of the Alpine groups lying within Italy and between the main chain and {192} 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.

According to Zollikofer.]

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 {193} 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 vertical scale is ten times larger than the horizontal.]

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 {194} 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.

Scale 1 : 1,160,000.]

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.

THE PENNINE ALPS, AS SEEN FROM THE BECCA DI NONA (PIC CARREL), 10,380 FEET.]

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 {195} 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.

Scale 1 : 4,800,000.]