pas + nie” eke 2 ee _* CNIS Smithsonian Institution Libraries Given in memory of Elisha Hanson by Letitia Armistead Hanson Wy 36 Ae) teense) \ WR, Weg We i" Hay ye pe sh Merny 1 Wane steak a Meas yy Goi i aN) Silvan! i a e) pas THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE AN ILLUSTRATED MONTHLY Editor GILBERT H. GROSVENOR Associate Editor JOHN OLIVER LA GORCE Assistant Editor WILLIAM JOSEPH SHOWALTER Contributing Editors A. W. GREELY ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL Arctic Explorer, Major Gen’! U. S. Army ©. HART. MERRIAM DAVID FAIRCHILD In Charge of Agricultural Explorations, Member National Academy of Sciences DeswrobiAsuculeure O. H. TITTMANN : Former Superintendent of U. S. Coast HUGH M. SMITH _and Geodetic Survey Commissioner, U.S. Bureau of Fisheries ROBERT HOLLISTER CHAPMAN U. S. Geological Survey WALTER T. SWINGLE FRANK M. CHAPMAN N. H. DARTON Vol. XXX—July-December, 1916 STAC COPYRIGHT 1916 BY ( NOV 5) 1981 \ THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY HUBBARD MEMORIAL HALL LIPPARIES PANIES WASHINGTON, D. C. — QO. H. TITTMANN JOHN OLIVER LA GORCE OVPSAUSTING 7.7). é S 1915-1917 CHARLES J. BELL President American Security and Trust Company JOHN JOY EDSON President Washington Loan & Trust Company DAVID FAIRCHILD In Charge of Agricultural Ex- plorations, Dept. of Agric. C. HART MERRIAM Memiber National Academy of Sciences O. P. AUSTIN Statistician GEORGE R. PUTNAM Commissioner U.S. Bureau of Lighthouses GEORGE SHIRAS, 3D Formerly Member U. S. Con- gress, Faunal Naturalist, and Wild-Game Photographer GRANT SQUIRES New York GILBERT H. GROSVENOR, DIRECTOR AND EDITOR ASSOCIATE EDITOR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY PRESIDENT SECRETARY 1916-1918 FRANKLIN K. LANE Secretary of the Interior HENRY F. BLOUNT Vice-President American Se- curity and Trust Company C. M. CHESTER Rear Admiral! U. S. Navy, Formerly Supt. U. S. Naval Observatory FREDERICK V. COVILLE Formerly Presidentof Wash- ington Academy of Sciences JOHN E. PILLSBURY Rear Admiral U. S. Navy, Formerly Chief Bureau of Navigation RUDOLPH KAUFFMANN Managing Editor The Evening tar T. L. MACDONALD M: DEE. AG. S- S. N. D. NORTH Formerly Director U. S. Bu- reau of Census To carry out the purpose for which it was founded twenty-eight years ago, namely, ‘‘the increase and diffusion of geographic knowledge,’’ the National Geographic Society publishes this Magazine. JOHN E. PILLSBURY JOHN JOY EDSON WILLIAM J. SHOWALTER BOARD OF MANAGERS | VICE-PRESIDENT TREASURER GEORGE W. HUTCHISON, ASSISTANT SECRETARY ASSISTANT EDITOR 1917-1919 ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL Inventor of the telephone J. HOWARD GORE Prof. Emeritus Mathematics, The Geo. Washington Univ. A. W. GREELY Arctic Explorer, Major Gen’l S. Army GILBERT H. GROSVENOR Editor of National Geographic Magazine GEORGE OTIS SMITH Director of U. S. Geological Survey O. H. TITTMANN Formerly Superintendent of U.S.Coast and Geodetic Sur- vey HENRY WHITE Formerly U. S. Ambassador to France, Italy, etc. JOHN M. WILSON Brigadier General U. S. Army, Formerly Chief of Engineers All receipts from the publication are invested in the Magazine itself or expended directly to promote geographic knowledge and the study of geography. Articles or photographs from members of the Society, or other friends, are desired. tion is made. A. W. GREELY C. HART MERRIAM O. H. TITTMANN ROBERT HOLLISTER CHAPMAN WALTER T. SWINGLE GILBERT H. GROSVENOR, EDiTorR CONTRIBUTING EDITORS ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL For material that the Society can use, adequate remunera- Contributions should be accompanied by an addressed return envelope and postage, and be addressed : DAVID FAIRCHILD HuGH M. SMITH N. H. DARTON FRANK M. CHAPMAN Copyright, 1917, by National Geographic Society, Washington, D.C. All rights reserved CONTENTS American Gibraltar; An: Notes on the DanishWest Indies. ......0.0...-¢+.:0s0--+-% Awakening of Argentina and Chile, The: Progress in the Lands that Lie Below Capniconns WS y-DATEEY WAITS oi c.cye-coelives ie cecse Srccors tetera aan OR Ret nT aa Hoary Monasteries of Mt. Athos, The. By H. G. Dwicur Inexhaustible Italy: The Gifted Mother of Civilization. By Artuur STANLEY Riccs.. Larger North American Mammals, The. By E. W. Netson Pittienyourney-im-Hondtras, A. Byki Js. YOUNGBLOOD.s.. J: s/s,.\0ssereacc conan eee eee Ce ee er PY Ce Wittle-known, Sardinia: By —IEEEN DiUNSTAN) WRIGHT ss sip) wag este ckelae see arr eee Lonely Australia: The Unique Continent. By Herpert E. Grecory.................. MustemoteAncirent: Mexico, the: . By. WiILLTAM: Hi. PRESCOTT !..3205 5-952 vanes see eee Roumaniarand tts Rubicon. By JOHN (OLIVER! ILAWGOREE s- 20... sue ae ee oy earaioae Sailorivitoh, “1a ited s De Cae BATA (eh 2g ama eR RPA nan oa pent MIURA MMA ymin OA. Pk ona nal eran Say Treasure Chest of Mercurial Mexico, The. By FRANK H. PRoBert.................. Wemiceroreexico, Wher By WAL TERVETOUCHE aiccile, san is soot ea walneal ee canny Se Wards of the United States: Notes on What Our Country is Doing for Santo Do- MIN SOH NECA TA SUA aT ERAN ee eisccatss sieeve to as Go la vay cqe rene ste erste beilevadeneian ater elaretoneraysteectey pel meet i 143 WOlLs DOOG INOS 1 WASHINGTON JULY, 1916 THE NATITONAIL GEOGIRAPIAIC MAGAZINIE THE LUSTER OF ANCIENT MEXICO The following article is abstracted from the celebrated classic, “History of the Conquest of Mexico,’ by Wiliam H. Prescott F ALL that ‘extensive empire () which once acknowledged the au- thority of Spain in the New World, no portion, for interest and im- portance, can be compared with Mexico, and this equally, whether we consider the variety of its soil and climate; the inex- haustible stores of its mineral wealth; its scenery, grand and picturesque beyond example; the character of its ancient 1n- habitants, not only far surpassing in in- telligence that of the other North Ameri- can races, but reminding us, by their monuments, of the primitive civilization of Egypt and Hindostan; or, lastly, the peculiar circumstances of its conquest, adventurous and romantic as any legend devised by Norman or Italian bard of chivalry. The country of the ancient Mexicans, or Aztecs, as they were called, formed but a very small part of the extensive territories comprehended in the modern Republic of Mexico. Its boundaries can- not be defined with certainty. They were much enlarged in the latter days of the empire, when they may be considered as reaching from about the eighteenth de- gree north to the twenty-first, on the At- lantic, and from the fourteenth to the nineteenth, including a very narrow strip, on the Pacific. In its greatest breadth it could not exceed five degrees and a half, dwindling, as it approached its southeast- ern limits, to less than two. It covered probably less than 16,000 square leagues. Yet such is the remark- able formation of this country that, though not more than twice as large as New England, it presented every variety of climate, and was capable of yielding nearly every fruit found between the Equator and the Arctic Circle. All along the Atlantic the country is bordered by a broad tract, called the tierra caliente, or hot region, which has the usual high temperature of equinoctial lands. Parched and sandy plains are intermingled with others of exuberant fertility, almost impervious from thickets of aromatic shrubs and wild flowers, in the midst of which tower up trees of that magnificent growth which is found only within the tropics. SCENERY GRAND AND TERRIBLE After passing some twenty leagues across this burning region, the traveler finds himself rising into a purer atmos- phere. His limbs recover their elasticity. He breathes more freely, for his senses are not now oppressed by the sultry heat and intoxicating perfumes of the valley. The aspect of nature, too, has changed, and his eye no longer revels among the gay variety of colors with which the land- scape was painted there. ‘The vanilla, the indigo, and the flowering cacao groves disappear as he advances. ‘The sugar- cane and the glossy-leaved banana still accompany him; and, when he has as- cended about 4,000 feet, he sees in the unchanging verdure and the rich foliage of the liquid-amber tree that he has COLIMA, ONE OF MEXICO’S ACTIVE VOLCANOES On the sides of this great safety valve of the big earth furnace are numerous ice camps. Hail forms and falls so continuously here that the peons gather up the ice-stones, wrap them in straw, and carry them down to the towns on the plain for domestic purposes. louds and from the reached the height where mists settle in their passag Mexican Gulf. He has entered the tierra templada, or temperate region, whose character resem- bles that of the temperate zone of the globe. The features of the scenery be- come grand and even terrible. His road sweeps along the base of mighty moun- tains, once gleaming with volcanic fires, and still resplendent in their mantles of snow, which serve as beacons to the mari- ner, for many a league at sea. All around he beholds traces of their ancient com- bustion, as his road passes along vast tracts of lava, bristling in the innumer- able fantastic forms into which the fiery Cc e to torrent has been thrown by the obstacles in its career. Perhaps at the same mo- ment as he casts his eye down some steep slope or almost unfathomable ravine on the margin of the road he sees their depths glowing with the rich blooms and enam- eled vegetation of the tropics. Such are the singular contrasts presented, at the same time, to the senses in this pictur- esque region! Still pressing. upward, the traveler mounts into other climates, favorable to other kinds of cultivation. The yellow maize, or Indian corn, as we usually call it, has continued to follow him up from the lowest level; but he now first sees fields of wheat and the other European CL Ey le WI Sav Res @EMAUN CIEIN alee Nii XeKe @ D grains brought into the country by the Conquerors. Mingled with them he views the plantations of the aloe or maguey (agave Americana), applied to such various and important uses by the Aztecs. The oaks now acquire a sturdier growth, and the dark forests of pine an- nounce that he has entered the tierra fria, or cold region, the third and last of the great natural terraces into which the country is divided. THE BROAD MEXICAN TABLE-LAND When he has climbed to the height of between 7,000 and 8,000 feet, the weary traveler sets his foot on the summit of the Cordillera of the Andes—the colossal range that, after traversing South Amer- ica and the Isthmus of Darien, spreads out as it enters Mexico into that vast sheet of table-land, which maintains an elevation of more than 6,000 feet, for the distance of nearly 200 leagues, until it gradually declines in the higher latitudes of the north. The air is exceedingly dry; the soil, though naturally good, is rarely clothed with the luxuriant vegetation of the lower regions. It frequently, indeed, has a parched and barren aspect, owing partly to the greater evaporation which takes place on these lofty plains, through the diminished pressure of the atmosphere; and partly, no doubt, to the want of trees to shelter the soil from the fierce influ- ence of the summer sun. In the time of the Aztecs the table- land was thickly covered with larch, oak, cypress, and other forest trees, the extra- ordinary dimensions of some of which, remaining to the present day, show that the curse of barrenness in later times is chargeable more on man than on nature. Indeed, the early Spaniards made as in- discriminate war on the forest as did our Puritan ancestors, though with much less reason. After once conquering the coun- try they had no lurking ambush to fear from the submissive, semi-civilized In- dian, and were not, like our forefathers, obliged to keep watch and ward for a century. ‘This spoliation of the ground, however, is said to have been pleasing to their imaginations, as it reminded them of the plains of their own Castile, where the nakedness of the landscape forms the burden of every traveler’s lament who visits that country. THE WONDERFUL VALLEY OF MEXICO Midway across the continent, some- what nearer the Pacific than the Atlantic Ocean, at an elevation of nearly 7,500 feet, is the celebrated Valley of Mexico. It is of an oval form, about 67 leagues in circumference, and is encompassed by a towering rampart of porphyritic rock, which nature seems to have provided, though ineffectually, to protect it from invasion. The soil, once carpeted with a beauti- ful verdure, and thickly sprinkled with stately trees, is often bare, and in many places, white with the incrustation of salts, caused by the draining of the waters. Five lakes are spread over the valley, occupying one-tenth of its surface. On the opposite borders of the largest of these basins, much shrunk in its dimen- sions since the days of the Aztecs, stood the cities of Mexico and Tezcuco, the capitals of the two most potent and flour- ishing States of Anahuac, whose history, with that of the mysterious races that preceded them in the country, exhibits some of the nearest approaches to civili- zation to be met with anciently on the North American continent. Of these races the most conspicuous were the Toltecs. Advancing from a northerly direction, but from what region is uncertain, they entered the territory of Anahuac, probably before the close of the seventh century. The Toltecs were well instructed in agriculture, and many of the most useful mechanic arts; were nice workers of metals; invented the complex arrange- ment of time adopted by the Aztecs; and, in short, were the true fountains of the civilization which distinguished this part of the continent in later times. They es- tablished their capital at Tula, north of the Mexican Valley, and the remains of extensive buildings were to be discerned there at the time of the Conquest. The noble ruins of religious and other edifices, still to be seen in various parts of New Spain, are referred to this people, whose name, Joltec, has passed into a synonym © Underwood & Underwooé NEAR THE PYRAMID OF THE SUN: SAN JUAN TEOTIHUACAN, MEXICO GATHERING PRICKLY PEAR FRUIT The nopal cactus bears the tuna of the Mexicans and the prickly pear of Americans. The tree is composed of series of oval pads. As one of these pads hardens, it becomes a part of the tree instead of remaining its foliage and fruit. The great pad produces a fruit about the size of a duck egg, covered with fine prickles, as full of seeds as the ordinary fig. It is always cool when plucked. The natives subsist almost entirely on it when they can get it. It means as much to the Mexican nifios as Georgia watermelon to the American pickaninnies. TARAHUMARE INDIANS IN CHIHUAHUA CITY, MEXICO Not even Greece and Rome in the palmiest days of their athletic history produced a race of greater physical endurance than is to be found in the Tarahumare Indians of Mexico. Their favorite pastime is chasing a big ball, which they sometimes do from morning to night. Lumholtz, in his “Unknown Mexico,” for architect. minds us of those primitive races who preceded the ancient Egyptians in the march of civilization, fragments of whose monuments, as they are seen at this day, incorporated with the buildings of the Egyptians themselves, give to these latter the appearance of almost modern con- structions. DID THE TOLTECS BUILD MITLA AND PALENQUE After a period of four centuries, the Toltecs, who had extended their sway over the remotest borders of Anahuac, having been greatly reduced, it is said, by famine, pestilence, and unsuccessful wars, disappeared from the land as si- lently and mysteriously as they had en- tered it. A few of them still lingered behind, but much the greater number, probably, spread over the region of Cen- Their shadowy history re- says they can run down and catch wild horses, and that the women are as good runners as. the men. tral America and the neighboring isles; and the traveler now speculates on the majestic ruins of Mitla and Palenque, as possibly the work of this extraordinary people. The Mexicans, with whom our history is principally concerned, came, also, from the remote regions of the north—the populous hive of nations in the New World, as it has been in the Old. They arrived on the borders of Anahuac, to- ward the beginning of the thirteenth cen- tury, some time after the occupation of the land by the kindred races. Fora long time they did not establish themselves in any permanent residence, but continued shifting their quarters to different parts of the “Mexican V alley, enduring all the casualties and hardships of a migratory life. On one occasion they were enslaved by a more powerful tribe, but their feroc- FORTIFICATIONS AT Acapulco is one of the principal west coast for 100 ocean steamships and 200 lighter crait. ACAPULCO, MEXICO cities of Mexico, with harbor accommodations Bret Harte, in his “Last Galleon,” sings of the day in 1641 when the regular yearly galleon was due to arrive in Acapulco, while the limes were ripening in the sun for the sick on board. ity soon made them formidable to their masters. THE After a series of wanderings and ad- ventures, which need not shrink from comparison with the most extravagant legends of the heroic ages of antiquity, they at length halted on the southwestern borders of the principal lake in the year 1325. They there beheld, perched on the stem of a prickly pear, which shot out from the crevice of a rock that was washed by the waves, a royal eagle of ex- traordinary size and beauty, with a ser- pent in his talons, and his broad wings opened to the rising sun. They hailed the. auspicious omen, an- nounced by the oracle as indicating the FOUNDING OF TENOCHTITLAN site of their future city, and laid its foun- dations by sinking piles into the shallows, for the low marshes were half buried under water. On these they erected their light fabrics of reeds and rushes, and sought a precarious subsistence from fishing and from the wild fowl which frequented the waters, as well as from the cultivation of such simple vegetables as they could raise on their floating gar- dens. The place was called Tenochtitlan, in token of its miraculous origin, though only known to Europeans by its other name of Mexico, derived from their war- god, Mexitli. The legend of its founda- tion is still further commemorated by the device of the eagle and the cactus, which form the arms of the modern Mexican Republic. HOUSE IN COUNTRY NEAR CORDOBA Perhaps three-fourths of Mexico’s population has no more of this world’s goods than the family in the picture, whose all is contained in this thatched hut and the patch of ground that answers for a garden. comforts. Nor does the vast majority know any more than they of creature Some one has observed that it is no compliment to the well-fed, sleek ox on the Mexican hacienda to say that the half-starved peon drudge is a brother to him. They gradually increased, however, in numbers, and strengthened themselves yet more by various improvements in their polity and military discipline, while they established a reputation for courage as well as cruelty in war, which made their name terrible throughout the Val- ley. In the early part of the fifteenth century, nearly a hundred years from the foundation of the city, an event took place which created an entire revolution in the circumstances and, to some extent, in the character of the Aztecs. A REMARKABLE MILITARY ALLIANCKH Then was formed that remarkable league, which, indeed, has no parallel in history. It was agreed between the States of Mexico, Tezcuco, and the neighboring little kingdom of Tlacopan that they should mutually support each other in their wars, offensive and defensive, and N that in the distribution of the spoil one- fifth should be assigned to Tlacopan and the remainder be divided, in what pro- portions is uncertain, between the other powers. What is more extraordinary than the treaty itself, however, is the fidelity with which it was maintained. During a cen- tury of uninterrupted warfare that en- sued, no instance occurred where the par- ties quarreled over the division of the spoil, which so often makes shipwreck of similar confederacies among civilized States. The allies for some time found suffi- cient occupation for their arms in their own valley ; but they soon overleaped its rocky ramparts, and by the middle of the fifteenth century, under the first Monte- zuma, had spread down the sides of the table-land to the borders of the Gulf of Mexico. ‘Tenochtitlan, the Aztec capital, ‘Way} d10[dx9 0} 4du19}}e Aue jsIsor AY} puv S10}SoOUe J1ay} JO sjsoys oy} Aq poyqeyur ore suIMI dsoYy} FO SWOOI UvIURIIA}qNS JY} JY} IAdIJoq SueIPUT SHOT} ystodns oyy, “Ysty JoofF OOF ]pIyY e dn ous0q ‘Q1d] UdIS I1B YpRIiq ul Joos € Ayavou Aq “e pue oourjsip eB WOIZ ZYSNoIq 19M Suipyinq ay} ssodwios yotym ArAydiod JO syoojq years ay} [je pure ‘poydoto sem prwividd oY} JajiFe JNO SEM YIOM 9} LY} JQHOp OU oq URS di9Y} ‘Woay} JO [VIIAVS JOAO UNI 0} UDdS St oINSy v ouoTe JYSioM Jay} Aq sovjd ul jdoy pue JUsWID HOY IM JoYy}O YOva uodN pie] oie JovJIns pue UMOID dy} JO SoUO}S OU, ‘OO TIVOIHOOX AO SNINY AHL JO STIVM AHL TO NOMLOWS V Yysus] ul Jooy Z souoqs JO aanjdjnos oy} se pue ¢ OOIXHIN Mela IOSINSIR Os, gave evidence of the public prosperity. Its frail tenements were supplanted by solid structures of stone and lime. Its population rapidly increased. At the beginning of the sixteenth cen- tury, just before the arrival of the Span- iards, the Aztec dominion reached across the continent, from the Atlantic to the Pacific; and, under the bold and bloody Ahuitzotl, its arms had been carried far over the limits already noticed as defin- ing its permanent territory into the far- thest corners of Guatemala and Nica- ragua. This extent of empire, however limited in comparison with that of many other States, is truly wonderful, consid- ering it as the acquisition of a people whose whole population and resources had so recently been comprised within the walls of their own petty city; and considering, moreover, that the conquered territory was thickly settled by various races, bred to arms like the Mexicans, and little inferior to them in social organ- ization. THE LAWS OF THE AZTECS The laws of the Aztecs were registered and exhibited to the people in their hiero- glyphical paintings. Much the larger part of them, as in every nation imperfectly civilized, relates rather to the security of persons than of property. Iiiewerear crimes against society were all made capt- tal. Even the murder of a slave was punished with death. Adulterers, as among the Jews, were stoned to death. Thieving, according to the degree of the offense, was punished by slavery or death. Yet the Mexicans could have been under no great apprehension of this crime, since the entrances to their dwell- ings were not secured by bolts or fasten- ings of any kind. It was a capital offense to remove the boundaries of another’s lands; to alter the established measures, and for a guardian not to be able to give a good account of his ward’s property. These regulations evince a regard for equity in dealings and for private rights, which argues a considerable progress in civilization. Prodigals who squandered their patrimony were punished in like manner—a severe sentence, since the crime brought its adequate punishment along with it. ANCIENT MEXICO 9 Intemperance, which was the burden, moreover, of their religious homilies, was visited with the severest penalties, as if they had foreseen in it the consuming canker of their own, as well as of the other Indian races in later times. It was punished in the young with death, and in older persons with loss of rank and con- fiscation of property. Yet a decent con- viviality was not meant to be proscribed at their festivals, and they possessed the means of indulging it, in a mild fer- mented liquor called pulque, which is still popular not only with the Indian, but the European population of the country. STRICT DIVORCE LAWS The rites of marriage were celebrated with as much formality as in any Chris- tian country, and the institution was held in such reverence that a tribunal was in- stituted for the sole purpose of determin- ing questions relating to it. Divorces could not be obtained until authorized by a sentence of this court, after a patient hearing of the parties. But the most remarkable part of the Aztec code was that relating to slavery. There were several descriptions of slaves: prisoners taken in war, who were almost always reserved for the dreadful doom of sacrifice; criminals, public debtors, per- sons who, from extreme poverty, volun- tarily resigned their freedom, and chil- dren who were sold by their own parents. In the last instance, usually occasioned also by poverty, it was common for the parents, with the master’s consent, to substitute others of their children suc- cessively as they grew up, thus distribut- ing the burden as equally as possible among the different members of the family. The willingness of freedom to incur, the penalties of this condition is explained by the mild form in which it existed. The contract of sale was exe- cuted in the presence of at least four wit- nesses. The services to be exacted were limited with great precision. The slave was allowed to have his own family, to hold property, and even other slaves. His children were free. No one could be born to slavery in Mexico; an honorable distinction not known, | be- lieve, in any civilized community where pure ‘sjeurur ‘UNS oY} jo 0}}O14) oY} Sse UMOUN IUO ‘SOAVO [eToA0S o1V JUNOUWAINS souojs dSo} YOM [ITY oY} fo OOF oUt IV “squryd ‘Spiiq ‘sjuods9s ‘s1o14eM JO o4e sSurasvo oy, SUINT OSOY} (OTF UIA} 9UO}S FO YING d1OM sasnoy epuoDry suloqysiou ay} Jo Auryy OOIXUW “VOVAVYNYEND :SNIOU OOTVOIHOOX AML TO MUTA WHLITLONV Wed 10 GIANT CYPRESS AT TULE, NEAR CITY OF OAXACA, MEXICO This great tree, 154 feet high and its trunk so large that 28 men with outstretched arms can barely encircle it, is one of the largest in the world. Humboldt inscribed his name upon it, and, history says, Cortez rested his men under its branches while en route to Honduras. slavery has been sanctioned. Slaves were not sold by their masters, unless when these were driven to it by poverty. They were often liberated by: them at their death, and sometimes, as there was no natural repugnance founded on differ- ence of blood and race, were married to them. Yet a refractory or vicious slave II might be led into the market, with a col- lar round his neck, which intimated his bad character, and there be publicly sold, and, on a second sale, reserved for sacri- fice. Communication was maintained with the remotest parts of the country by means of couriers. Post-houses were es- STREET OF THE DEAD: SAN JUAN TEOTIHUACAN, MEXICO The sacred pyramids of San Juan Teotihuacan, situated 27 miles northeast of Mexico City, are reputed to be the largest artificial mounds in the New World. It is believed that they were built at least 900 years before Columbus discovered America. tablished on the great roads, about two leagues distant from each other. ‘The courier, bearing his dispatches in the form of a hieroglyphical painting, ran with them to the first station, where they were taken by another messenger and carried forward to the next, and so on till they reached the capital. These cou- riers, trained from childhood, traveled with incredible swiftness; not four or five leagues an hour, as an old chronicler would make us believe, but with such speed that despatches were carried from 100 to 200 miles a day. Fresh fish was frequently served at Montezuma’s table in 24 hours from the time it had been taken in the Gulf of Mexico, 200 miles from the capital. In this way intelligence of the movements of the royal armies was rapidly brought to court; and the dress of the courier, denoting by its color that of his tidings, spreading joy or consternation in the towns through which he passed. But the great aim of the Aztec insti- tutions, to which private discipline and public honors were alike directed, was the profession of arms. In Mexico, as in Egypt, the soldier shared with the priest the highest consideration. The king, as we have seen, must be an experienced warrior. The tutelary deity of the Aztecs was the:god of war. A great object of their military expeditions was to gather hecatombs of captives for his altars. The soldier who fell in battle was transported at once to the region of ineffable bliss in the bright mansions of the Sun. COUNTERPART OF CHRISTIAN CRUSADERS THE AZTEC Every war, therefore, became a cru- sade; and the warrior, animated by a re- ligious enthusiasm, like that of the early Saracen, or the Christian crusader, was not only raised to contempt of danger, but courted it, for the imperishable crown of martyrdom. Thus we find the same PULQUE GATHERERS NEAR TOLUCA, MEXICO Toluca is nearly a thousand feet higher than Mexico City, and a half higher than Washington or New York. which, in its turn, is a mile It is too high for dogs, cats, and insects, which are scarcer here than in almost any other city in the country. impulse acting in the most opposite quar- ters of the globe, and the Asiatic, the European, and the American, each ear- nestly invoking the holy name of religion in the perpetration of human butchery. The dress of the higher warriors was picturesque and often magnificent. Their bodies were covered with a close vest of quilted cotton, so thick as to be impene- trable to the light missiles of Indian war- fare. This garment was so light and serviceable that it was adopted by the Spaniards. The wealthier chiefs some- times wore, instead of this cotton mail, a cuirass made of thin plates of gold or silver. Over it was thrown a surcoat of the gorgeous feather-work in which they excelled. Their helmets were sometimes of wood, fashioned like the heads of wild animals, and sometimes of silver, on the top of which waved a panache of varie- gated plumes, sprinkled with precious stones and ornaments of gold. They also w wore collars, bracelets, and ear-rings of the same rich material. The national standard, which has been compared to the ancient Roman, dis- played, in its embroidery of gold and feather-work, the armorial ensigns of the state. These were significant of its name, which, as the names of both persons and places were borrowed from some mate- rial object, was easily expressed by hiero- glyphical symbols. ‘The companies and the great chiefs had also their appropriate banners and devices, and the gaudy hues of their many-colored plumes gave a daz- zling splendor to the spectacle. MARCHED SINGING INTO BATTLE Their tactics were such as belong to a nation with whom war, though a trade, is not elevated to the rank of a science. They advanced singing and shouting their war-cries, briskly charging the enemy, as rapidly retreating, and making use of am- oy} uodn posrq you pue ‘mou savy OM ULY} o1OUL Ivak B SYyJwap UOT]IU B sALY P[NOM OM ‘oOoIxXdPy JO SUOT}IpUoS AleyUeS INO F[ “OSKXOPL UL oje1 YWVop Yory oy} 10F Javed ur ojqrsuodsoat sx s{Joq dInjord sryy OOIXWIN GNVIHSIH NI NYHOLIM NVIGNI NV asoyy A10 Ss “TOYIIO TEM FO UPTT} 1o}JOG OU D19M STOJIODP 9SOYM surdsayasnoy JO pupy saun}10fF Ino pure SA I4 ASUS, IUISANSe OU AUN CEI MVD CO, 15 buscades, sudden surprises, and the light skirmish of guerilla warfare. Yet their discipline was such as to draw forth the encomiums of the Spanish Conquerors. “A beautiful sight it was,” says one of them, “to see them set out on their march, all moving forward so gayly and in so admirable order!’ In battle they did not seek to kill their enemies so much as to take them prisoners, and they never scalped, like other North American tribes. The valor of a warrior was estimated by the number of his prisoners, and no ran- som was large enough to save the devoted captive. Their military code bore the same stern features as their other laws. Dis- obedience of orders was punished with death It was death also for a soldier to leave his colors, to attack the enemy be- fore the signal was given, or to plunder another’s booty or prisoners. One of the last ‘ezcucan princes, in the spirit of an ancient Roman, put two sons to death, after having cured their wounds, for violating the last-mentioned law. THEIR ““HOUSES OF GOD” The Mexican temples— teocallis, “houses of God,” as they were called— were very numerous. ‘They were solid masses of earth, cased with brick or stone, and in their form somewhat re- semble the pyramidal structures of an- cient Egypt. The bases of many of them were more than a hundred feet square, and they towered to a still greater height. They were distributed into four or five stories, each of smaller dimensions than that below. The ascent was by a flight of steps, at an angle of the pyramid, on the outside. This led to a sort of terrace, or gallery, at the base of the second story, which passed quite round the building to another flight of stairs, commencing also at the same angle as ‘the preceding and directly over it, and leading to a similar terrace; so that one had to make the cir- cuit of the temple several times before reaching the summit. In some instances the stairway led directly up the center of the western face of the building. The top was a broad area, on which were erected one or two towers, 40 or 50 feet high, the sanctuaries in which stood the sacred images of the presiding deities. Before these towers stood the dreadful stone of sacrifice and two lofty altars, on which fires were kept, as inex- tinguishable as those in the Temple of Vesta. There were said to be 600 of these altars on smaller buildings within the inclosure of the great temple of Mex- ico, which, with those in the sacred edi- fices in other parts of the city, shed a brilliant illumination over its streets through the darkest night. CEREMONIALS OF PEACE From the construction of their temples all religious services were public. ‘The long processions of priests winding round their massive sides, as they rose higher and higher toward the summit, and the dismal rites of sacrifice performed there, were all visible from the remotest corners of the capital, impressing on the spec- tator’s mind a superstitious veneration for the mysteries of his religion and for the dread ministers by whom they were interpreted. This impression was kept in full force by their numerous festivals. Every month was consecrated to some protect- ing deity; and every week—nay, almost every day—was set down in their calen- dar for some appropriate celebration ; so that it is difficult to understand how the ordinary business of life could have been compatible with the exactions of religion. Many of their ceremonies were of a light and cheerful complexion, consisting of the national songs and dances, in which both sexes joined. Processions were made of women and children crowned with garlands and bearing offerings of fruits, the ripened maize, or the sweet incense of copal and other odoriferous gums, while the altars of the deity were stained with no blood save that of animals. These were the peaceful rites derived from their Toltec predecessors, on which the fierce Aztecs engrafted a superstition too loathsome to be exhibited in all its nakedness, and one over which I would gladly draw a veil altogether, but that it would leave the reader in ignorance of their most striking institution, and one that had the greatest influence in form- ing the national character. & 6 Sad et ee A MAGUEY PLANT IN BLOOM: MEXICO A maguey plant in bloom is a sight one seldom sees in Mexico, for the reason that the stem is cut at its base and hollowed out, and the sap that would have gone into the flowers is collected and converted into that evil-smelling, criminal-making concoction called pulque. When the sap gathers—at the rate of ten to fifteen pints a day—peons pass from plant to plant, and with their mouths to one end of a tube suck it up, and then discharge it into con- tainers made of pigskins, flung, saddle-bags fashion, across the back of an uncurried donkey. eke piauid is then carried to the central station, where it is “ripened” in vats of untanned cowhide. 160 ANSUs, ILS INR Ole AINCMa INI WMS G(CO) al Human sacrifices were adopted by the Aztecs early in the fourteenth century, about 200 years before the Conquest. Rare at first, they became more frequent with the wider extent of their empire, till at length almost every. festival was closed with this cruel abomination. These religious ceremonials were generally ar- ranged in such a manner as to afford a type of the most prominent circumstances in the character or history of the deity who was the object of them. A single example will suffice. PRISONERS IN THE ROLES OF GODS One of their most important festivals was that in honor of the god ‘Tezcatli- poca, whose rank was inferior only to that of the Supreme Being. He was called “the soul of the world,” and sup- posed to have been its creator. He was depicted as a handsome man, endowed with perpetual youth. A year before the intended sacrifice a captive, distinguished for his personal beauty, and without a blemish on his body, was selected to rep- resent this deity. Certain tutors took charge of him and instructed him how to perform his new part with becoming grace and dignity. He was arrayed ina splendid dress, regaled with incense and with a profusion of sweet-scented flow- ers, of which the ancient Mexicans were as fond as their descendants at the pres- ent day. When he went abroad he was attended by a train of the royal pages, and as he halted in the streets to play some favorite melody the crowd prostrated themselves before him and did him homage as the representative of their good deity. In this way he led an easy, luxurious life, till within a month of his sacrifice. Four beautiful girls, bearing the names of the principal goddesses, were then selected to be his companions, and with them he con- tinued to live in idle dalliance, feasted at the banquets of the principal nobles, who paid him all the honors of a divinity. THE FATAL DAY OF SACRIFICE At length the fatal day of sacrifice ar- rived. The term of his short-lived glo- ries was at an end. He was stripped of his gaudy apparel and bade adieu to the fair partners of his revelries. One of the royal barges transported him across the lake to a temple which rose on its margin, about a league from the city. Hither the inhabitants of the capital flocked to witness the consummation of the ceremony. As the sad procession wound up the sides of the pyramid, the unhappy victim threw away his gay chap- lets of flowers and broke in pieces the musical instruments with which he had solaced the hours of captivity. On the summit he was received by six priests, whose long and matted locks flowed disorderly over their sable robes, covered with hieroglyphic scrolls of mys- tic import. ‘They led him to the sacri- ficial stone, a huge block of jasper, with its upper surface somewhat convex. On this the prisoner was stretched. Five priests secured his head and his limbs, while the sixth, clad in a scarlet mantle, emblematic of his bloody office, dexterously opened the breast of the wretched victim with a sharp razor of itzili —a_ volcanic substance, hard as flint—and, inserting his hand in the wound, tore out the palpitating heart. The minister of death, first holding this up toward the sun—an object of worship throughout Anahuac—cast it at the feet of the deity to whom the temple was de- voted, while the multitudes below pros- trated themselves in humble adoration. The tragic story of this prisoner was ex- pounded by the priests as the type of hu- man destiny which, brilliant in its com- mencement, too often closes in sorrow and disaster. WOMEN AND CHILDREN OFFERED UP Such was the form of human sacrifice usually practised by the Aztecs. It was the same that often met the indignant eyes of the Europeans in their prozress through the country, and from the dread- ful doom of which they themselves were not exempted. There were, indeed, some occasions when preliminary tortures, of the most exquisite kind—with which it is unnecessary to shock the reader—were inflicted, but they always terminated with the bloody ceremony above described. It should be remarked, however, that such tortures were not the spontaneous sug- “KEMe SuIJAIOAD YSEM O} UdyeaIy} 0} Se INOdUMOpP B YonNs UI Soto Uo}fO F} pue—ivoXt & Joof ZI 0} 8 WO1J—Aavoy AIDA SI [[eJUTeI oY} OoIXeTT JO adojs oyURIFY 94} UQ “JOATT oY} FO SMOPIAO dpotiad dy} WOLF SUIPOOH PIOAL O} Po}LAojo ST UAO OIL, OOIXAW ‘OOIdNWV YVAN “AMATT ISHNVL AHL NO NYAO WIV M-HOE 18 THE VOLCANO POPOCATEPETL, FROM THE VALLEY OF MEXICO In the geography classes in school we are taught to pronounce the name of this beautiful mountain Popo-cat-epetl, putting the emphasis on “‘cat.”’ The correct way is Popo-ca-tepetl. The Aztec Indians joined the modifying adjective to its noun with a preposition just as we join two nouns or two parts of a compound sentence with a conjunction. The “ca” in the word Popocatepetl is the conjunction which joins “popo,’ meaning smoking, to “tepetl,’ meaning hill. gestions of cruelty, as with the North American Indians, but were all rigorously prescribed in the Aztec ritual, and doubt- less were often inflicted with the same compunctious visitings which a devout familiar of the Holy Office might at times experience in executing its stern decrees. Women as well as the other sex were sometimes reserved for sacrifice. On some occasions, particularly in seasons of drought, at the festival of the insatiable 19 Tlaloc, the god of rain, children, for the most part infants, were offered up. As they were borne along in open litters, dressed in their festal robes and decked with the fresh blossoms of spring, they moved the hardest heart to pity, though their cries were drowned in the wild chant of the priests, who read in their tears a favorable augury for their peti- tion. ‘These innocent victims were gen- erally bought by the priests of parents WRECKS ON THE BEACH NEAR VERA CRUZ, MEXICO And eloquent they are of a form of civilization that spends its energies on internecine war rather than upon the improvement of the lanes of the near-by sea who were poor, but who stifled the voice of nature, probably less at the suggestions of poverty than of a wretched supersti- tion. CANNIBALS WITH REFINED TASTES ~The most loathsome part of the story— the manner in which the body of the sac- rificed captive was disposed of—remains yet to be told. It was delivered to the warrior who had taken him in battle, and by him, after being dressed, was served up in an entertainment to his friends. This was not the coarse repast of fam- ished cannibals, but a banquet teeming with delicious beverages and delicate viands, prepared with art and attended by both sexes, who conducted themselves with all the decorum of civilized life. Surely never were refinement and the ex- treme of barbarism brought so closely in contact with each other! Human sacrifices have been practised by many nations, not excepting the most polished nations of antiquity, but never by any on a scale to be compared with those in Anahuac. Agriculture in Mexico was in the same advanced state as the other arts of social life. In few countries, indeed, has it been more respected. It was closely in- terwoven with the civil and religious in- stitutions of the nation. There were pe- culiar deities to preside over it ; the names of the months and of the religious festi- vals had more or less reference to it. Among the most important articles of husbandry we may notice the banana. Another celebrated plant was the cacao, the fruit of which furnished the choco- late—from the Mexican chocolatl—now so common a beverage throughout Eu- rope. The vanilla, confined to a small district of the seacoast, was used for the same purposes, of flavoring their food and drink, as with us. MEAL AND SUGAR FROM MAIZE The great staple of the country, as, in- deed, of the American continent, was maize, or Indian corn, which grew freely along the valleys and up the steep sides of the Cordilleras to the high level of the table-land. The Aztecs were as curious in its preparation and as well instructed in its manifold uses as the most expert New England housewife. Its gigantic stalks, in these equinoctial regions, af- WEAVING A BLANKET IN INDIAN MEXICO The hand-woven blankets made by the Indian girls, to whom a dime a day is a good wage, although they begin work at sunrise and labor until sunset, are the admiration and despair of all who appreciate fine handiwork or value perfect color combinations. A small blanket bought in Mexico City five years ago, although it has been used as a wall tapestry ever since, seems as bright in every one of its rainbow colors as on the day it was bought. The weaving is so perfect that it has no right or wrong side. ford a saccharine matter not found to the same extent in northern latitudes, and supplied the natives with sugar little in- ferior to that of the cane itself, which was not introduced among them till after the Conquest. THE MAGUBY’S VERSATILITY But the miracle of nature was the great Mexican aloe, or maguey, whose cluster- ing pyramids of flowers, towering above their dark coronals of leaves, were seen sprinkled over many a broad acre of the table-land. As we have already noticed, its bruised leaves afforded a paste from which paper was manufactured; its juice 21 was fermented into an intoxicating bev- erage, pulque, of which the natives to: this day are excessively fond; its leaves further supplied an impenetrable thatch for the more humble dwellings; thread, of which coarse stuffs were made, and strong cords, were drawn from its tough and twisted fibers; pins and needles were made of the thorns at the extremity of its leaves, and the root, when properly cooked, was converted into a palatable and nutritious food. The agave, in short, was meat, drink, clothing, and writing materials for the Aztec! The Mexicans were as well acquainted with the mineral as with the vegetable ‘JUIWIIAOIDUT ABMYSIY IOF out} Aue AVI] 0} SUOI}NJOADI-19JUNOD PUL SUOTINJOADI YWM paqiosqe 00} UIdq DALY SoIs19UI S}I Udy} sUIG “ArzUNOD dy} FO APATOL Jedioutsd oy} sea Surpymq peospes usar zeIq oY} JapuA, ‘suoTdooXa oY} JO OU SI SIy} pure ‘SoAdIY} JO UOP B UL Uo POOS sv oreI sv JNoqe 91 ODTXdPY UL spvor poor) OOIXUN “AGNA'TIV Ad ‘IHNODIW NVS :dvOud NIVINAOW ANEUE, NWSI Ol BUN CIUDINAE WUE CIKCO) 2: treasures of their kingdom. Silver, lead, and tin they drew from the mines of Tasco; copper from the mountains of Zacotollan. ‘These were taken not only from the crude masses on the surface, but from veins wrought in the solid rock, into which they opened extensive galleries. In fact, the traces of their labors fur- nished the best indications for the early Spanish miners. Gold, found on the sur- face or gleaned from the beds of rivers, was cast into bars or, in the form of dust, made part of the regular tribute of the southern provinces of the empire. The use of iron, with which the soil was im- pregnated, was unknown to them. Not- withstanding its abundance, it demands so many processes to prepare it for use that it has commonly been one of the last metals pressed into the service of man. They found a substitute in an alloy of tin and copper, and with tools made of this bronze could cut not only metals, but, with the aid of a silicious dust, the hard- est substances, as basalt, porphyry, ame- thysts, and emeralds. They fashioned these last, which were found very large, into many curious and fantastic forms. They cast, also, vessels of gold and silver, carving them with their metallic chisels in a very delicate manner. Some of the silver vases were so large that a man could not encircle them with his arms. They imitated very nicely the figures of animals, and, what was extraordinary, could mix the metals in such a manner that the feathers of a bird or the scales of a fish should be alternately of gold and silver. The Spanish goldsmiths admitted their superiority over themselves in these ingenious works. SHAVING WITH STONE RAZORS They employed another tool, made of itztli, or obsidian, a dark transparent min- eral, exceedingly hard, found in abun- dance in their hills. They made it into knives, razors, and their serrated swords. It took a keen edge, though soon blunted. With this they wrought the various stones. and alabasters employed in the construc- tion of their public works and principal dwellings. The most remarkable piece of sculpture yet disinterred is the great calendar-stone. OO It consists of dark porphyry, and in its original dimensions as taken from the quarry is computed to have weighed nearly fifty tons. It was transported from the mountains beyond Lake Chalco, a distance of many leagues, over a broken country intersected by water-courses and canals. In crossing a bridge which tra- versed. one of these latter in the capital the supports gave way, and the huge mass was precipitated into the water, whence it was with difficulty recovered. The fact that so enormous a fragment of porphyry could be thus safely carried for leagues, in the face of such obstacles and without the aid of cattle—for the Aztecs, as al- ready mentioned, had no animals of draught—suggests to us no mean ideas of their mechanical skill and of their ma- chinery, and implies a degree of cultiva- tion little inferior to that demanded for the geometrical and astronomical science displayed in the inscriptions on this very stone. WONDERFUL DYES The ancient Mexicans made utensils of earthenware for the ordinary purposes of domestic life, numerous specimens of which still exist. They made cups and vases of a lackered or painted wood, im- pervious to wet and gaudily colored. Their dyes were obtained from both min- eral and vegetable substances. Among them was the rich crimson of the cochi- neal, the modern rival of the famed Ty- rian purple. It was introduced into Eu- rope from Mexico, where the curious little insect was nourished with great care on plantations of cactus, since fallen into neglect. The natives were thus enabled to give a brilliant coloring to the webs, which were manufactured of every de- gree of fineness from the cotton raised in abundance throughout the warmer re- gions of the country. They had the art, also, of interweaving with these the deli- cate hair of rabbits and other animals, which made a cloth of great warmth as well as beauty of a kind altogether origi- nal, and on this they often laid a rich embroidery of birds, flowers, or some other fanciful device. But the art in which they most de- lighted was their plumaje, or feather- 7 JOUMO SI Aq Poy suo Yova ‘sayoeod UOdsd 9Y} JO SMOPUTA OY} JO JsOour Ut poyosod ssojsoor Sunysy ye doys ures} @ 99S 0} 10 JOOP WOIF AJOAD Je potoy}e} SY owes 99S PUL UMO} ULOIXoTW [eAN1 & JO S}ood}s oy} 8 OOIMAN ‘NOW UVAN HONVA : PHO MOOD uoye YIM UOTeys v yeM OF yYEsIs Arewoysns ® StI FIGHTING COCKS: QUERETARO, MEXICO The peon with Spanish blood in his veins is nearly always fond of the sight of gore. At a Mexican cockpit the betting is faster and more furious than the fun at a three-ring circus, and the enthusiasm is about as great when the steel-spurred cocks cut one another to pieces as when a mad bull gores a horse to death in the bull-ring. would seem, is largely a question of geography. work. With this they could produce all the effect jof a: beautiful: mosaic. The gorgeous plumage of the tropical birds, especially of the parrot tribe, afforded every variety of color; and the fine down of the humming-bird, which reveled in swarms among the honeysuckle bowers of Mexico, supplied them with soft aérial tints that gave an exquisite finish to the picture. The feathers, pasted on a fine cotton web, were wrought into dresses for the wealthy, hangings for apartments, and ornaments for the temples. No one iN) On Moral sense, after all, it of the American fabrics excited such ad- miration in Europe, whither numerous specimens were sent by the Conquerors. The ancient city of Mexico covered the same spot occupied by the modern capt- tal. The great causeways touched it in the same points; the streets ran in much the same direction, nearly from north to south and from east to west; the cathe- dral in the plaza mayor stands on the same ground that was covered by the temple of the Aztec war-god, and the four principal quarters of the town are Photograph by John H. Hall A PUBLIC SCRIBE: MEXICO For four centuries the Spaniards and their descendants have ruled Mexico, but the ratio of illiteracy to literacy is little changed since Cortez brought the Indians under the yoke of Castile and Aragon. still known among the Indians by their ancient names. Yet an Aztec of the days of Monte- zuma, could he behold the modern me- tropolis, which has risen with such phee- nix-like splendor from the ashes of the old, would not recognize its site as that of his own Tenochtitlan; for the latter was encompassed by the salt floods of Tezcuco, which flowed in ample canals through every part of the city, while the Mexico of our day stands high and dry on the main land, nearly a league distant at its center from the water. The cause of this apparent change in its position is the diminution of the lake, which, from the rapidity of evaporation in these ele- vated regions, had become perceptible be- fore the Conquest, but which has since been greatly accelerated by artificial causes. THE CITY IMMACULATE A careful police provided for the health and cleanliness of the city. A numerous retinue are said to have been daily em- ployed in watering and sweeping the streets, so that a man—to borrow the lan- guage of an old Spaniard—“could walk through them with as little danger of soil- ing his feet as his hands.” ‘The water, in a city washed on all sides by the salt floods, was extremely brackish. A lib- eral supply of the pure element, however, was brought from Chapultepec, “the grasshopper’s hill,” less than a league dis- tant. It was brought through an earthen pipe, along a dike constructed for the purpose. That there might be no failure in so essential an article when repairs were going on, a double course of pipes was laid. In this way a column of water of the size of a man’s body was con- ducted into the heart of the capital, where it fed the fountains and reservoirs of the principal mansions. Openings were made in the aqueduct as it crossed the bridges, and thus a supply was furnished to the canoes below, by means of which it was transported to all parts of the city. While Montezuma encouraged a taste ANBUS, IE SINSIS Ole AUNCIOZINAE MUS GKCO) 27 for architectural magnificence in his no- bles, he contributed his own share to- ward the embellishment of the city. It was in his reign that the famous calendar- stone, weighing, probably, in its primi- tive state, nearly fifty tons, was trans- ported from its native quarry, many leagues distant, to the capital, where it still forms one of the most curious monu- ments of Aztec science. Indeed, when we reflect on the difficulty of hewing such a stupendous mass from its hard basaltic bed without the aid of iron tools, and that of transporting it such a distance across land and water without the help of ani- mals, we may well feel admiration at the mechanical ingenuity and enterprise of the people who accomplished it. MONTEZUMA’S MAGNIFICENT MANSION Not content with the spacious residence of his father, Montezuma erected another on a yet more magnificent scale. This building, or, as it might more correctly be styled, pile of buildings, spread over an extent of ground so vast that, as one of the Conquerors assures us, its terraced roof might have afforded ample room for thirty knights to run their courses in a regular tourney. Remarkable were its interior decorations, its fanciful draper- ies, its roofs inlaid with cedar and other odoriferous woods, held together with- out a nail and, probably, without a knowl- edge of the arch, its numerous and spa- cious apartments, which Cortés, with en- thusiastic hyperbole, does not hesitate to declare superior to anything of the kind in Spain. Adjoining the principal edifice were others devoted to various objects. One was an armory, filled with the weapons and military dresses worn by the Aztecs, all kept in the most perfect order, ready for instant use. The emperor was him- self very expert in the management of the maquahuitl, or Indian sword, and took great delight in witnessing athletic exercises and the mimic representation of war by his young nobility. Another building was used as a granary, and others as warehouses for the different ar- ticles of food and apparel contributed by the districts charged with the mainte- nance of the royal household. There were also edifices appropriated to objects of quite another kind. One of these was an immense aviary, in which birds of splendid plumage were assem- bled from all parts of the empire. Here was the scarlet cardinal, the golden pheasant, the endless parrot tribe, with their rainbow hues (the royal green pre- dominant), and that miniature miracle of nature, the humming-bird, which delights to revel among the honeysuckle bowers of Mexico. Three hundred attendants had charge of this aviary, who made themselves acquainted with the appro- priate food of its inmates, oftentimes pro- cured at great cost, and in the moulting season were careful to collect the beauti- ful plumage, which, with its many-colored tints, furnished the materials for the Az- tec painter. A separate building was reserved. for the fierce birds of prey; the voracious vulture tribes and eagles of enormous size, whose home was in the snowy soli- tudes of the Andes. No less than five hundred turkeys, the cheapest meat in Mexico, were allowed for the daily con- sumption of these tyrants of the feath- ered race THE AZTEC ZOO DESCRIBED Adjoining this aviary was a menagerie of wild animals, gathered from the moun- tain forests, and even from the remote swamps of the tierra caliente. The collection was still further swelled by a great number of reptiles and ser- pents remarkable for their size and ven- omous qualities, among which the Span- iards beheld the fiery little animal ‘with the castanets in his tail,” the terror of the American wilderness. The serpents were confined in long cages lined with down or feathers or in troughs of mud and water. The beasts and birds of prey were pro- vided with apartments large enough to allow of their moving about, and secured by a strong lattice-work, through which light and air were freely admitted. The whole was placed under the charge of numerous keepers, who acquainted them- selves with the habits of their prisoners and provided for their comfort and clean- liness. ‘jsonDuod oY} 9UIS Jr WOIF POAOWIAI Uddq 9ALY ANY -[Hs JO spunod 000‘000‘0OT VY) 2}eUIT{SI SUPIDIISIIVIG “ZOQI 9dUIS JUDSSaIND Uddq Sey }f{ “SaSIOU URIURIII}IGNS OY1I19} BUIMOTOF oyeNbyJAvo JU[OIA v J9}Je SUL OJUT OUTED FF ‘SUOITIPLI] ULIPUT 0} SUIPIOINW “LIS OY} JO JOA] IY} DAOGL SoPILU ddI} UVY} IO SOSTI OURI[OA JOUPXa [MZooVAS SIT TIVOHIOOVIXI HHL FO LINWOAS AHL WOW TWAdaLVWoOOdOd OUT SAE 4 8 ASS WO. Ole AINCISINAY WE YaKCO) 29 With what deep interest would the en- lightened naturalist of that day—an Oviedo, or a Martyr, for example—have surveyed this magnificent collection, in which the various tribes which roamed over the Western wilderness, the un- known races of an unknown world, were brought into one view! How would they have delighted to study the peculiarities of these new species, compared with those of their own hemisphere, and thus have risen to some comprehension of the gen- eral laws by which Nature acts in all’ her works! The rude followers of Cortés did not trouble themselves with such re- fined speculations. ‘They gazed on the spectacle with a vague curiosity not un- mixed with awe, and as they listened to the wild cries of the ferocious animals and the hissings of the serpents they al- most fancied themselves in the infernal regions. A ROYAL MUSEUM OF HUMAN FREAKS I must not omit to notice a strange col- lection of human monsters, dwarfs, and other unfortunate persons, in whose or- ganization Nature had capriciously devi- ated from her regular laws. Such hide- ous anomalies were regarded by the Az- tecs as a suitable appendage of state. It is even said they were in some cases the result of artificial means, employed by unnatural parents desirous to secure a provision for their offspring by thus qualifying them for a place in the royal museum ! Extensive gardens were spread out around these buildings, filled with fra- grant shrubs and flowers, and especially with medicinal plants. No country has afforded more numerous species of these last than New Spain, and their virtues were perfectly understood by the Aztecs, with whom medical botany may be said to have been studied as a science. Amidst this labyrinth of sweet-scented groves and shrubberies fountains of pure water might be seen throwing up their spark- ling jets and scattering refreshing dews over the blossoms. ‘Ten large tanks, well stocked with fish, afforded a retreat on their margins to various tribes of water- fowl, whose habits were so carefully con- sulted that some of these ponds were of salt water, as that which they most loved to frequent. M\ JOC aT to) IN OLD CHURCH AT TLALPUJAHUA, MEXICO Tlalpujahua is in the region inhabited by the Tarascan Indians, which lies due west of Mexico City. According to Prescott, the Tarascans had a Noah, called Trezpi, who escaped from a great flood in a boat laden with animals. Instead of a dove, Trezpi sent out a vulture first, and then a humming-bird, according to the legend. The methods of courtship in vogue among the Tarascans are peculiar. The lover goes to the spring where the object of his affection is accustomed to fill her water-jar. He holds her shawl until she accepts him, and then, with a stick, he breaks the jar which she holds on her head and gives her a betrothal baptism of water. These Indians once possessed the secret of tempering copper, an art now lost to the world. ON THE CHINAMPAS CANAL, NEAR MEXICO CITY In normal times life is easy in peon Mexico. Four centuries of penury have bred the love of luxury out of the natives’ make-up, and they are now inured to hardships that would grind the very soul out of an American. princely income to the Mexican peon. highway from under umbrageous trees. Flotsam and jetsam in the canal are va- grant bulbs and flowers of water hya- cinth, a wicked, beautiful plant, whose reproductivity makes men work to keep it down, but here it has met its match and is made to be useful. Bridges there are, and most quaint, like that perfect arch of Ixticaleo, under which white geese seem to float in the air. One feels that this panorama should last forever, especially if he does not have to supply the labor of locomotion. Here at this landing at Xochimilco it must be realized that the mere first leaves of our NI Sy What the average American wastes would seem a experience, the loveliness of the country of the lake dwellers, are just unfolding. HIDDEN BEAUTIES OF XOCHIMILCO The town is really built on terra firma, as the seven churches, each well supplied with raucous bells, the streets of quaint houses, and the broad lava-paved prehis- toric market-place, well attest; but the town disguises and hides away the life of the canals and gardens, and its attrac- tions for the tourist are soon compassed. We turn into a narrow lane leading away from the formal streets and emerge into an Indian dooryard, and within a ‘910Y} Uddaq SABA TL SPY 9Y—oaIN}eNY OF} xed OS 0} poou jOU SoOp d}T UOTJONIJSUOD S}I UI UOIT JO 9daId & JNOYYM osnoy e pur ‘MOINS B IO [IVU B JNOY}IM UOSeM B “OJOYIVUT B ULY} [OO] Joy}O OU Y}IAL aspliqg Ve pymaq uvo of{ ‘SHIuosS & JO SUIYJOWIOS ST UPOTXOTY 9} ‘Qoueysip-e-1e-ATjsnpuy Aq Uvy} Joye puey-ye-o1njeyy Aq poptaoid ssury} FO osn SUTYeUL JO FAV OY} UY WIAIWM NVOIXUIT V ONINNVdS HOCINdG WNIA V THE COLLEGIATE CHURCH, WITH THE CHAPEL ON THE HILL IN THE BACKGROUND This is the holiest shrine in Mexico. It stands on the site where the Virgin is reputed to have appeared to an Indian, Juan Diego, instructing him to take a message to the arch- bishop asking that a shrine be built there in her honor. After appearing to him several times, she finally commanded him to climb to the top of the hill, where the chapel now stands, but which had always been barren, and there to gather a bunch of roses to take to the archbishop. This he did; but when he unfolded his serape it was found to contain, so the account runs, a miraculously painted picture of the Virgin. and occupies the center of the altar. princess. few feet of us is the main canal with its boats and floating water plants. ‘The in- habitants of this little house group into which we have come as from another sphere are interested and friendly and ready to visit. José, the active leader of the family, is going to take us to see the sights of the lake, and soon we are darting along other water streets bordered with spire-like willows, turning the corners and passing impressionistic gardens of cabbages, let- tuce, pinks, and roses, until all sense of direction is lost. Soon the waterscapes become more extensive, and the bare- legged Aztec boatmen bring up over Los Ojos, the springs, which they call the source of the lake, and hold in a venera- tion inculcated by ancient lore and cus- toms. Really, the spot is most impressive. When the Xochimilcans, in the days of their idolatry, worshiped their lacustrian This picture is now venerated by all Mexicans 79 The features and complexion are those of an Indian spring, they placed therein a black stone image on the sparkling sand bottom of the crater-like fountain, where it was surrounded with plumy water plants, and to this deity offerings of copal, pottery, and other effects were made. IDOLS AND SKULLS IN SPRING Sahagun relates the sincere pleasure which he felt when he accomplished the raising of the god of the fountain from his mossy bed and substituted in the place a stone cross. This holy object can no longer be seen; but the litter of broken pottery now there is not ancient, and one suspects that the costumbre of oblations may have come down to modern times. Several bleached skulls of horses were also seen in the spring—why no one can tell; but probably there is a folk belief or a horse worship begun with those war steeds of Cortez, to account for it. ‘The JINOI , YoRq-o[NUW,, OY} VIA JO}VAL Toy} Joe SuUBITXOTY FO SUOTT]IUW JOA Pur ‘qngaef tod yonut os ye yt Anq 0} vABY NOA o1oyM DAT] OF SUBIUT }E JVYM ‘suorso1 [eINI Ul sJoyMAToAo soutsds puv [JOM PUL solpUNUUIOD UPqIN UL [esIOATUN St JojyeM-de} o1ayM AIQUNOD B UT ‘oZI[va1 OF pAeY SI I] VIVdVH) 3JNV1I IO SHNOHS HHL NO SANMNOCG YHA, GNV SUWVIMS-WLLVM Ris, 3 URROe “eto PSE [99 9Y} JO FEY} Sapqtiosot YSoTf oY], “oYM pue Yyoryq poxiut ev st 10Ojo9 sy fAddnd pnut oy} oz1soy9eIeY A]JuouPUTIOd YIYM Isoy} OF AVPIUNIS ‘S]]LS [euIO}Xo AYsSN sey 7] ‘PleZiT JoyeM oy} Se AULUT 0} UMOUY ATUOWUIOD ‘fJo[oxe oy} ‘ropuRWeyes FO Sortoads Bo FO puof AOA JIL AOYT, “[MOF PTI Suyuny pure surysy Aq Suray 1194} oYPUL Pue SJnosnp soy dAtjrutid asn Ady, *Asessosou ATaNJOsqe usyM AJUO P]IOM J9INO OY} YA suIpsuTtu ‘soaposoyy OF Youu OAT] OLVNIZIL oyYP’T JO Spuryst oy} uO pure soroys oy} suoje oat oyM ojdood oxy, ODIXHW :OUVNOZLVd AMV’ ‘SUIvI} dOO1} dy} JO 9UO JO FOOI 94} UO UdAP[IY pue UIWOA 9Y} SMOYS oINJoId SIYT, “Jared W9yxe} DALY] USUOM Sap}}eVq ULIIXW OY} JO AULUT UT ‘AAT UdAP[IYD PUL SOATM 9Y} 91OYM UO!JOS B JUSUIdUIvIUA UBIIXITT B IVOU PUNOF oq OF LOOGVY WHHL SNIMOTIO’ SYAIGTIOS NVOIXYN AHL JO NHYYGTIHO GNV SHAIM AIL poOMIDpuL) Y pooasapuy, © SABM]EC ST 919 ? 8 Photograph by Frank H. Probert OFFERING DRAWN-WORK FOR SALE TO TOURISTS ON A MEXICAN RAILROAD The Mexican Indian woman seems to have been born with a needle in her hand. Her drawn-work, for delicacy, beauty, and grace of design, is surpassed by none in the world. She can take the sheerest of handkerchief linen and draw out threads in a way that is the admiration and despair of many a cultured needlewoman. springs have come out of their mystery in recent years and have been prosaically made to supply purer water to the City of Mexico. These springs, as one sees them now, are bowls 100 feet in diameter and 30 to 40 feet deep, with water clear as crystal and cold, bursting up in the lake at the foot of the Sierra de Ajusco and fed by the snows. It is a remarkable experience to lunch there and drink the good water to the health of the spirit of the springs who has a choice assortment of broken crockery in his keeping. Views of snowy 83 Popocatepetl are glimpsed up the vistas of the lanes between the floating gardens on the return and heighten the lovely re- flections of the evening. The houses of the amiable Xochimilcos are flimsy structures, but well-built and neat, and a visitor receives quite a favor- able impression of the people. The pretty children make friends easily and load down the Americano with presents of flowers loved by the lake dwellers as they were by their Aztec ancestors. Any one who shows a liking for flowers has won the way to their affection. ‘Purl oy} FO doeF oy} UOdN IIedsop pure ajdoad sjt yo soovy OU} UF USM SI IOAA [NOS dy} WOIF JYSIOM & FFI] OF IO JrvaYy OY} UOd}YSI] 0} III] SI a19yy ‘AUOJOUOU JaqtOS S}I UI Suissaidop odevospury oyy ‘100d a]dood oy} ‘ajitajs pur] oy} ‘uorseq ‘oye,Osaq ‘OOTXOP UsoYIOU UeY} Usieduied 0} YIYM UL UOISaI ajqeyrdsoyur o10ul v puy jou pynoo uoneu vy ODIXHUW NI YHIH AVd-XIS V JO GNX AHL LV AMINVANI ‘S ‘a pooMiopuy) N PpooMiopuy) oO as © Photograph by Capt. D. H. Scott, U. S. A. A PAIR OF MEXICAN SUSPECTS These sheep may be camp pets, but their days of preferment depend largely upon the ‘ ability of the commissary department to supply other stewing ingredients. The training of burros and sheep as pets serves to break the monotony of camp life during periods of inaction in Mexico. lambs old tricks. In the slip of the canal are the boats owned by the Indians living in the little group of three or four houses belonging to our friends, who combine the voca- tions of boatmen, gardeners, and fisher- men, the latter plying huge nets that seem oversized for the tiny quarry inhabiting the desolate lakes. ‘The gardener works with the primitive tools of his ancestors, and the boatman takes extravagant pride. in his dugout chaloupe, which is his an- cient water vehicle, and also prizes his passenger canoe and freight barge, if his family is rich enough to own them. GARDENS BUILT ‘ON HYACINTH FOUNDATIONS Without moving from José’s dooryard, we may by good fortune see a neighbor constructing a “floating” garden, and we are carried back without effort several centuries into the past. From the canals ve) UL Hours are spent and patience tested while off duty in trying to teach young the busy Aztecs throw great masses of water hyacinth upon the strip of bog to the thickness of a foot or more. The water hyacinth, which unfortunately does not fit into the ancient picture, is pro- vided with large cellular floats—a natural provision for its dissemination, which has made it an obstruction to navigation in some of our southern rivers. Upon this bed of floats they spread a layer of muck, dredged from the bottom of the canals. Perhaps before the plant floats have decayed, these gardens may drift away should the water rise. Even now on portions of the lake square miles of vegetation cover the surface like the “sudd” of the Nile, and the canal roads have to be staked at the sides to keep them from disappearing. Great drifts of microscopic vegetation cover the stag- nant water of the open lakes with a man- tle lovely in color, while the bottom is SUTEJUNOW UBSIXoW Ysno1y} pue spuvs uvosxoy{ Jaao Aousnofl apmi-Zh Suinsyey e s93ze dures ye Suratsie Arpearo UBITIOULY IY} JO s1odoo1 7, ODIXUN NI AWIVAVO UNO FO MYOM GIGNATds pooMiopuy) VY poomiopug O + a - , arcatsenan svinnieiler OSTXOJT Ul YOM 9} FO Ssorso1d oY} YALU YSIYM sduied snoieAa dy} O} Jopso0q ay} wor, sdi4y te AP[NGIT AY} oYPUL YOIYM ‘syons} asoy} uodn poo} pure ‘uonuNWWe ‘sorjddns 1O¥ puodop OIIXdPY Ul sIOF aATIUNd ay} JO sjodap pure sduied oy J, o OOIXHW ‘VdINOINVN YVAN dNVO SUMLAVAOGVAH LV ONIAINAV NIVYL MOOUL-YOLOW poomMiopuy~) XY poomsapug @ AaVS, WidINIKCIT Ole. MESCKe@) 87 coral red from a weed that thrives in the water. The term “floating gardens” was prop- erly applied by the early historians of Mexico to masses of water weeds covered with a layer of rushes bearing a thin layer of soil, employed by the Mexicans at a period when the fluctuating waters of the lakes prevented the formation of permanent chinampas, and so in the New World the Indians repeated the famed gardens of the lakes of Cashmere. FLOATING GARDENS REQUIRE IRRIGATION From the abundance at José’s and on every side it is evident that the Xochim- ileans are expert gardeners and assidu- ous at their work. Most of their plants are started in seed beds, from which they are transplanted to the chinampas, and it is strange to see boat loads of corn sprouts brought to be planted in this manner. Curiously enough, these morass gardens sometimes require irrigation, which is accomplished by throwing on water from the canal with a wooden scoop. While we sit in these peaceful sur- roundings, we cannot but reflect that in some ways it is hard to convince the ordi- nary observer that the modern is the ancient, and make him realize how much the life of this lake village is a vivid ren- dering of that of the prehistoric lake dwelling, whose cycle extended from the rude Stone Age through the Bronze Age to the Iron Age, and whose lost and cast- off objects sunk in the mud, form now a wondrous museum filled with the history of their progress—the romance of art, wars, and love otherwise unchronicled in an era when letters were not known. So the story was repeated in Florida, in Venezuela, in Ireland, in the Vale of Cashmere, in the East Indies, and in various parts of the world where tribes lived over the water for protection. The Xochimilcos settled in prehistoric times at a place now called the South of the Valley, and later they extended their villages to the southern slope of Popo- catepetl and along the mountains that connect the great volcano with the Sierra de Ajusco, which overhangs the lovely valley of Mexico. MAKING UNFRIENDLY NATURE A SERVANT It is said that when the Aztecs came to Anahuac they were not strong in num- ber and were compelled to inhabit the morasses, because they had not power to dispossess the settled populations which had occupied the favored locations. In this seemingly inhospitable but, as we have seen, protecting and stimulating en- vironment, the Aztecs gradually increased in population and culture and became powerful enough to sweep away the an- cient civilizations that occupied the val- ley and make themselves masters of their heritage. These movements had been accom- plished when Cortez came on the scene. The vast floods, which were very de- structive to the towns situated on land lying little distance above the water level. did not much incommode the hardy lake dwellers, whose gardens would float, if necessary, riding moored to stakes, until the waters fell. The visitor to the homes of the Xochi- milcos may thus reconstruct history that is replete with interest. He will see, as Cortez saw, a people lighter in color than any North American Indians, below me- dium stature, with muscular and well- knit bodies commendably clean through daily ablutions. SORROW AT BIRTH; JOY AT DEATH It cannot be said that the Xochimilcan man has an open and ingenuous counte- nance, but it shows force of character and lights up quickly in response to kind- ness and recognition. The young women have round, often ruddy, but rather ex- pressionless faces ; the children are pretty, and the older women are better preserved than the women of the Pueblos of the southwestern United States. Both sexes work hard, and where there is such uni- formity of poverty the struggle for exist- ence makes life a serious matter and en- graves deep lines in the faces of the breadwinners. Thus a birth is heralded with mourning and a death with rejoicing. Their music is monotonous and disagreeable to the educated ear, and their amusements seem to be few; but, given advantages, these people show skill in the arts, and as 88 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE musicians they have made the Mexican bands known all over the world. They are gifted, besides, with a singular tenac- ity of purpose and mentally are capable of receiving a high education, which we may hope will be accepted with modera- tion. What will be their future when their swamps are drained and their old lake- dweller life merged into the humdrum of farmers? If by good fortune they are kept from the deadly effects of alcohol, that chief moloch of the Mexican Indian, no doubt they will live happily on the dry lake bottom as before in the days of Montezuma. Tae TATES® MAP OF MEXICO EspECIALLY COMPILED FOR THE MEMBERS OF THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY HE attention of the members of the Society is called to the map of Mex- ico presented in this number, 20” x 20” in size, and printed in four colors. Noth- ing has been left undone to make this the most accurate, the most detailed, and yet the most easily read map of that country ever compiled, embracing the very latest information obtainable from authorita- tive sources. It not only shows all of the transportation lines, but every station of even passing interest, as well as the vil- lages and towns off of the beaten paths. The map is drawn on a scale of 67.6 miles to the inch and has an insert, drawn to a scale of 33.8 miles to the inch, show- ing the great region embraced between Tampico and Vera Cruz on the east and Morelia, Guanajuato, and San Luis Po- tosi on the west. There is also a very helpful drawing which shows the size of Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Is- land, and eastern New York in compari- son with Mexico. In addition to this, there is a small physical map showing elevations in Mex- ico. It gives at a glance a graphic por- trayal of the physical appearance of the country, there being one color represent- ing all territory below 1,000 feet, another elevations from 1,000 to 5,000 feet,a third showing that part of the country lving between the 5,000 feet and the 8,000 feet contour, and a fourth showing all terri- tory lying above 8,000 feet. Particular attention is called to the legibility of the map. The ordinary map as full of detail as this one is difficult to read, but our cartographer in this in- stance has succeeded in gaining in detail without losing in legibility—a rare com- bination in map-making. A study of Mexico from the map-maker’s viewpoint reveals many interesting facts. Although that country is only one-fourth as large as the United States, one can-travel ina straight line as far as from National City, California, to Sitka, Alaska, or from Chi- cago to Nicaraugua, or from Richmond, Virginia, to Colon, Panama, without ever setting foot on other than Mexican soil. Likewise the distance between National City, California, and the mouth of the Rio Grande is greater than that from Baltimore, Maryland,. to Galveston, Texas; also, it is farther from extreme northwestern Mexico to the extreme southeastern shore of that country than it. is..from. St. ,Louis, Missouni, tomsan Juan, Porto Rico. Extra copies of this map may be had for 50 cents each. Copies mounted on linen at $1 each, and on rollers $1.50 postpaid in the United States. AN AMERICAN GIBRALTAR Notes on the Danish West Indies HE negotiation of a treaty be- : tween Denmark and the United States, under which Denmark is to sell to this country her holdings in the West Indies, at once brings into the re- lief of public interest a little group of islands on the northeastern rim of the Caribbean Sea. Not only because of their eventful history are these islands worthy of consideration, but because they have figured in many diplomatic negotia- tions, and their ultimate ownership may have an important bearing on the inter- national relations of the future. That this group of about fifty islands, only three of which are big enough to have a name on any but hydrographic charts and local maps, and the biggest of which one could walk around in nine hours, seem important to our government may be judged by the price it proposes to pay for them. We gave less than 2 cents an acre for Alaska, less than 3 cents an acre for California, Nevada, Colorado, and Utah, less than 14 cents an acre for Florida, and under 27 cents an acre for the Philippines. Even for the Canal Zone we paid but $35.83 per acre. Yet at $25,- 000,000 for the group we are offering Denmark more than $295 per acre for her holdings. THE ISLANDS MEASURED Authorities have disagreed as to the area of the islands. Even as to the three main islands—St. Thomas, St. John, and St. Croix—there is no agreement upon the question of area. In order to get a definite statement as to their size, plani- meter measurements of them were made on hydrographic charts in the offices of the National Geographic Society, and they show that. St. Thomas is 28.25 Square amiles ineareas pot. WCroix 64525 square miles, and St. John 19.97 square miles, making a total of 132.47 square miles for the three islands. Some au- thorities give the area as 138 square miles and others as 142 square miles. From the standpoint of the United States, St. Thomas is the most important of the group of islands. This importance arises from the fact that the harbor on the south side of the island, on whose borders the town of Charlotte Amalie is located, is one of the finest in all tropical America. From the days of the bucca- neers its strategic advantage has been realized, for when the Spanish Main was the happy hunting ground of the gentle- men of the Black Flag this harbor was their headquarters. Behind its outer hills the pirate craft found shelter from the open sea, and were well screened from the sight of passing ships until the mo- ment came to pounce down upon them. In more recent times it has played the role of safe harbor for the thousands of vessels bound from Europe to Panama and surrounding territory, or vice versa. With a free port, where repairs, ships’ stores, and coal might be had, upon which there had been no levy of tariff duties, the shipping world found the harbor of Charlotte Amalie an attractive way sta- tion on most of its Caribbean routes. A RUINED AGRICULTURE The result was that agriculture in St. Thomas fell into decay, and nearly all of the activities of the island’s population were devoted to the interests of its har- bor, and one of the finest coaling stations in the tropical world was established there. It has a length of 635 feet, with a breadth of 160 feet, and is inclosed on three sides by a solid stone and mason- work breakwater, built from 2 feet be- low ground to 7 feet above sea-level. More than 16,000 tons of coal can be stacked in it, and leading from the break- water is a jetty where four vessels can coal at a time, thus affording striking facilities to steamers and ships of war which require their bunkers replenished with dispatch. Steamers drawing 17 feet of water can be coaled day or night at the rate of 100 tons per hour. In addition to the coaling station there is a floating dry-dock and a marine slip, (z6 19Vd WAS) SHIGNI SUM HSINVG ‘SVNOHY IS “IVIVINV LLOTYVHO dO NMOL AHL 90 > SAG illiam H. Rau graph by W D OF ST Photo AS THOM ISLAN B) 1D MALI LOTTE A CHAR KEP BIVA Cy: AR iL CORNER OF M CN where splendid repair facilities are pro- vided. As long as these facilities were in de- mand St. Thomas was a fairly prosperous island. Men and women alike found it easy to get employment, at least for a part of the time, at what was to them a living wage, which was one cent per bas- ket of coal, weighing from 85 to 100 pounds. Some carried as many as two or three hundred baskets during the four or five hours required to coal a ship. When not doing this work, they found considerable employment discharging coal from freighters which brought it to St. Thomas. HARD HIT BY THE WAR But then came the war in Europe and all was changed. The steamships of Ger- many, which made continual use of the harbor of St. Thomas, were driven from the seas, and today, where formerly all was business and enterprise, there is only now and then a ship that finds its way into port, and the people of St. Thomas, lo Photograph by William H. Rau NATIVE WOMEN COALING A STEAMER: ST. THOMAS, DANISH WEST INDIES their agriculture neglected for years, find themselves unable to gain a living, either from the land or from the sea. The harbor is completely sheltered (see page 90). Outside is a roadstead partly protected by an outlying island, which provides anchorage for a great number of ships. At its mouth the harbor is 900 feet wide, and one passes through this narrow neck into a beautiful basin, three- quarters of a mile in diameter, whose waters are seldom disturbed, however much the sea beyond may rage. A trade wind blows during the whole year, with the exception of the hurricane months— August, September, and October—when it becomes irregular and sometimes ceases to blow altogether. The greatest heat is experienced in August, September, and October; but even then it rarely rises above g1 degrees Fahrenheit, while at times it falls as low as 64 degrees. On three sides of the harbor the moun- tains and their outlying foothills rise sharply from the water, leaving but a very narrow beach; so that the major por- (oo1u OLWOd MVAIN ) SHUNT LSIM HSINVd tO NOMLISOd QWALLW THN ONIMOHS dVW I 209 ms = az = 08 “avaiswne HV WS =o : =a - 5 iil Poe =| 7 ] aap Ss < Qo “yAtl) a YEN \ Cx AY Le SOW a4yNyeyAS yraeos TO% Nes \ nN f ie z ES S —~ me I 00h oe 00z out 0 oot eonaoe (YUP) adtopopeng es) q [ as alll. ESI nee LNCS OMIF IFA e) rn : SnovIRD s. Ee a eee o1 5 , ae. 5 (Cr Pepa eas is i cusnea)| GZ paw ss) ogeqQoL a f oA Aol a ~ § \S 7 epeuety % Xa) Ss I S F oo? Ne soutpeuety Go (Pn) os | 2 quaoutais (EER Ss » ATVS|—— & ewrrys ; an > : GON (41) S ‘ OH? ambien) 0 > (oF) es a AGG, crest, Sy. i So Ne a Al c c Ger < svua (4 oreenwerty, Oy D A | oe ME nad NBL VN a» OLDS S 3% : a ee HSIL| ne ee at (HG) CONES aa es 9s _ > vorvinve ! Rear ss Meck 3S Monae SEO y 7 ge “35 oon o1tod < NIKO ane Zo = Re Es - . ES aon ig ee fe ) S SAO 2) LING Vv Ss ri ose EX fa baie = : E ; ¢ D> vy ek ‘Say on > DID. XL ed S EN oO if : aS (6) ouysngny 4S oO. ptauos\youp = & L ia - - a a ——— | i — OR oO 93 94 ASUS, tion of the town had to find room for expansion by climbing up the side of the mountain. Just outside of and above the town are the two old towers, commonly known as Bluebeard’s Castle and Blackbeard’s Cas- tle. Legend has it that here these daring old buccaneers had _ their headquarters and played their romantic roles as “the hornets of the Spanish Main”; but his- tory disputes legend, for it says that they were built by the Danish Government as a measure of defense in 1689. By climbing the mountain to Amapolie, within easy walking distance of Charlotte Amalie, one can, on a-clear_day, get a view of Porto Rico, St. Croix, and Be- GulesuuoeN | littlevatarther » ome. seaches heights where views, unsurpassed in all the Caribbean region, may be had of Porto Rico to the west and the Lesser Antilles to the south. The West Indian-Panama Telegraph Company has a cable office at Charlotte Amalie, and it was from this place that the world got so much of its news during the Spanish-American War, as well as during the Martinique disaster. WE WILL BUY A LOTTERY The governor of the colonies lives in Charlotte Amalie from October 1 to April I, and in Christiansted, on the island of St. Croix, from April I to October 1. He is assisted by a Colonial Council, consist- ing of four members nominated by the Crown and eleven elected by the people. How well the population is represented may be judged by the statement that out of nearly 11,000 inhabitants, 1n 1891, only 200 were voters. There is no color line in St. Thomas, or in either of the other islands, for that matter, and the larger part of the population is of mixed blood. The State Church is Lutheran, although all others are tolerated. The Catholic and Episcopal congregations are the largest. The former has established a fine school for girls. The Jews have a well-built synagogue, while the Moravians have long been doing an important work among the negroes of the island. The Dutch Reformed and Wesleyan churches have also been engaged in like work. If the purchase of the islands is con- summated, the United States will acquire NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE an undesirable institution, known as the Danish West Indian lottery. How much the people of the islands appreciate this institution may be judged from the fol- lowing statement by one of the leading residents : “Much has been said about the establishment of a lottery in the Danish West Indies. ‘Those who consider it a form of gambling, detrimental to millions -of the people, may cavil at it, but those who remember how these islands were once flooded with lottery tickets from other countries, many of them of shady reputation, can ‘only be pleased at the es- tablishment of our own, whose profits are to be used for the benefit of these islands, and which, at least, possesses the merit of keeping our money amongst ourselves.” AN AMERICAN GIBRALTAR Naval officers declare that St. Thomas possesses advantages enabling it to be converted into a second Gibraltar. The structure of the island, with its long cen- tral ridge, having a general elevation of about 1,000 feet, with some points 1,500 feet, 1s especially fitted for the emplace- ment of fortifications commanding both shores at the same time, making it ex- tremely difficult for an enemy to-approach or obtain a foothold on the island. ‘The elevated ground in the immediate neigh- borhood of the excellent roadsteads makes the question of harbor defense a comparatively easy one. While being near other islands, St. Thomas is practi- cally in the open ocean, and permits en- trance and egress of a fleet without being observed. St. John, smallest of the three islands, with a good harbor in Coral Bay, is only 8 miles long and 4 miles wide in its broadest part. It has a population of less than 1,000; but it is an island that has done great service to America, for it 1s from here that come the leaves of the bay tree (Pimenta acris), from which that well-nigh indispensable toilet article for men, bay rum, is prepared. While most of the bay rum is made in St. Thomas, St. John produces most of the raw ma- terials from which it is distilled. This island once had many logwood trees on it, but they have almost entirely disappeared. Charcoal has long been in demand and the natives use logwood in NATIVE WASHERWOMEN OF ST. its manufacture. All of the islands have a striking variety of vegetation, 1,200 species having been counted on St. Thomas, and a proportionate number on ot. John and St. Croix. The plantain, banana, sapodilla, bell apple, orange, mango, and lemon thrive. Sugar-cane flourishes when cultivated according to modern standards. Communication between St. Thomas and St. John is maintained by several sloops. One of these has a history of more than a century in active service. It is the Vigilant, which has been, in turn, pirate, slave trader, and man-o’-war. Now she is a prosaic dispatch boat, carry- ing mail and cargo between the several islands. ST. CROIX THE LARGEST st. Croix is the largest, richest, and most populous of the three islands. It lies 40 miles south-southeast of St. Thomas, has an area of 84.25 square miles, and a population of approximately 20,000. It has much rich sugar land, Photograph by William H. Rau CROIX more than 16,000 acres being devoted to that crop. It is purely agricultural, with a fine tropical climate, excellent scenery, good roads, and hospitable people. Here, as in the other islands, one hears perhaps more English spoken than any other tongue. The Danes have never attempted to interfere with the native preference for English and have never made Danish compulsory in the schools. The island is perhaps more like “United States” than any other territory in the West Indian group. Before the days of Bermuda’s ascendency as a winter resort, and of Palm Beach, the Riviera, and other places, many fashionable Ameri- cans journeyed to St. Croix to escape the cold. Also the children of the prominent families of St. Croix came to the United States to study, for the St. Croix planter admired America and her straight-from- the-shoulder way of doing things. There are two towns in St. Croix— Christiansted and Fredericksted. The former is the seat of government, pos- sessing the largest government house in 96 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE the Lesser Antilles. Fredericksted is the seat of business in the island, most of the sugar being exported from there. For scores of years the sugar planters, seeing that the United States is the greatest sugar-consuming community in the world, have hoped that the island might become American, thus providing them with a free market. In latter years the experi- ence of the sugar planters of Porto Rico, who have grown very rich under the pro- tection received by them as a result of American tariff laws, has stimulated this desire upon the part of those of the Dan- ish West Indies. The island has suffered, much as our own South has suffered in the past, from a lack of crop diversification; as every- thing in the South was for so many years cotton, so everything in St. Croix has been sugar, and the putting of all of its eggs in one basket has resulted seriously on many occasions. The Danish Planta- tion Company has sought to overcome this evil by introducing the planting of cotton, cocoa, coffee, and other crops. The history of the Danish West Indies is full of interest. Columbus found St. Thomas inhabited by Caribs and Ara- waks in 1493. In 1657 a colony of Dutch settlers occupied the island; but when they heard of New Amsterdam, now New York, they left it to become a part of the new colony with such a remarkable fu- ture ahead of it. The English came to St. Thomas next, but in 1666 it was for- mally taken over by the Danish crown. In 1764 the King of Denmark took the government into his own hands and threw the port of Charlotte Amalie open, duty free, to all nations. In 1801 the British took the island from the Danes, but re- stored it after ten months. Again, in 1807, Britain took possession of St. Thomas, but returned it in the readjust- ments growing out of the Napoleonic wars in 1815. AN ISLAND OF MANY FLAGS St. Croix was settled by Dutch and English, but they quarreled and the Dutch had to get out in 1650. The English in their turn were driven out by the Span- iards. Then the French from St. Kitts took a hand and expelled the Spaniards. France gave the island to the Knights of Malta; but after a prolonged, but losing, effort to put it on a profitable basis, the Knights, in 1720, demolished their forts, abandoned the island, and removed to Santo Domingo. In 1727 the French cap- tured eight British vessels lying there and took possession of the island again, finally selling it to King Christian of Denmark. The first proposal to buy the Danish West Indies was made by Secretary of State Seward at Washington, in January, 1865. July 17, 1866, the United States offered $5,000,000 for the islands. In 1867 Denmark declined to sell them for that amount, but offered St. Thomas and St. John for $10,000,000, or $15,000,000 for the three. Mr. Seward replied by of- fering $7,500,000 for the group. Den- mark made a counter offer of St. Thomas and St. John for that price. Finally Sec- retary Seward accepted the proposal; but then Denmark insisted that the consent of the peoples of the islands should be formally given before the sale was con- summated. This was at first objected to by Mr. Seward; but he finally cabled our minister to concede the question of vote, and on the 24th of October, 1867, the treaty was signed. On January 9, 1868, the election was held, and out of 1,139 votes cast there were but 22 against the cession. St. John was unanimous, cast- ing 205 votes in favor-and none against. Denmark ratified the treaty, but Senator Sumner, then chairman of the Committee on Foreign Relations, held the bill unre- ported for more than two years. When he did report it, it was adversely. Again, in 1902, the United States sug- gested to Denmark that we would like to buy the islands, and although that coun- try had seen one treaty fail of ratification after it had been proposed by the United States and ratified by Denmark, it took up the matter again and signed the treaty providing for the sale of the islands. The treaty agreed to transfer them upon the payment of the sum of $5,000,000. It failed of ratification by Denmark by only one vote. If the present treaty passes, that one vote will have cost the United States the sum of $20,000,000. WOE KOOKS INCE 7 WASHINGTON AUGUST, 1916 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC | MAGAZINE LITT LE-KNOWN SARDINIA By HeLten DunsTan WRIGHT HOSE who have taken the Medi- terranean route have at least had a glimpse of Sardinia from their steamer a day out from Naples. The island is in sight for some hours, and, if the steamer passes sufficiently close, a bold rocky coast can be seen on which Roman outlook towers remain similar to those scattered along the south shores of Spain. The tourist seldom includes a trip to Sardinia in his travels, as neither of his advisers, Thomas Cook nor Baedeker, recommends it to him. It, however, is one of the few foreign fields that has not been overrun and overfed by the tourist, and in many of the villages a traveler is still regarded as a guest and not as prey to be pounced upon. Some day, when tourists are tired of taking the tours laid out for them by the guide-books, perhaps they will break away from the continent and set sail for Sar- dinia, especially if they are not traveling just to enjoy hotel comforts. One can rent a good automobile at Cagliari, and a week spent touring around the island would probably leave the pleasantest of recollections and an experience long to be remembered. Sardinia can be reached by an eight hours’ night voyage from Civitavecchia, the port of Rome, to the north end of the island. The crossing on the mail steamer is quite comfortable, but the knowledge that one must get up at five the next morning is rather appalling. The beauty of the sunrise over the sheer cliffs and craggy isolated rocks of Golfo degli Aranci compensates, however, for this in- convenience and for the cup of bitter black coffee which comprises the break- fast. As soon as one lands, a refreshing fragrance in the air is noticed—a per- fume characteristic of Sardinia—not due, certainly, to orange trees, as is suggested by the name of the port, there being none in this district, but to the many wild herbs and shrubs all over the island. The first couple of hours’ journey down the island is over a rough, rolling country made up of granite and resembling parts of Arizona or Montana. This apparent waste land is used for pasturing goats, which feed on the shrubs. Here, as over most of the island, one finds the white flowering cystus, bright yellow ginestra, rosemary, a mass of blue when in blos- som, and pink heather; also arbutus with bright yellow and red_ berries, thyme, juniper, and other shrubs. THE SWITZERLAND OF SARDINIA Excepting the eucalyptus and pine planted near the stations, there is a no- ticeable lack of trees along the railway routes. Among the mountains, however, which occupy the eastern half of the island and occur to some extent along the western coast, there are important forests of oak, ilex, cork, and wild olive; also areas reforested with pine and chestnut trees. In the mountainous areas of the island are many fertile valleys. GIRLS AT Note the queer bonnets worn, The scenery here compares favorably in ee with that of many countries of the world. The finest scenery is among the Gennargentu Mountains in the Bar- bargia Range , the highest peak being 6,233 feet above sea-level; on it there is usually snow from November to April. This region is called the Switzerland of Sardinia. In the other ranges are many picturesque peaks, as, for instance, Monte Albo, a group of limestone mountains with practically no vegetation on their slopes; so that the w hite mountains and the blue Mediterranean at their feet offer striking contrasts. But, to return to the railway route, at Chilivani, one-third of the way down the island, is the junction of the road that goes west to Sassari, the capital of the northern province of Sardinia. This city is situated in the midst of a well-culti- vated area, with groves of olive, almond, orange, and lemon trees and orchards of apples, peaches, cherries, and other fruits. The railway continues to the coast of Al- 98 Photograph by C. W. Wright DORGALTI made of many-colored sill ghero, an interesting old Spanish port, at one time surrounded by a high fortified wall. It is here that Admiral von Tirpitz owns a large agricultural farm and has a villa, and where, at the beginning of the war, the Germans were suspected of hav- ing a base for supplying submarines. To the south, about half w ay down the island, at Macomer, is another branch road to Nuoro, a distance of 35 miles and the center of a mountainous district, the Barbargia, which was at one time said to be the home of the famous Sardinian brigands. These are practically “ex- tinct” now, although occasionally one hears of a man who has murdered a neighbor or a member of his family for some personal wrong and, in order to escape the carabinieri, or national police, flees to the mountains and lives as best he can, sometimes stealing a lamb or a goat from a shepherd or stopping a lonely traveler to ask for food or a few soldi. Unfortunately, the general impression outside of Sardinia, even in Italy, is that Photograph by C. W. Wright ed GATHERING THE WHEAT Harvesting machinery is seldom seen in Sardinia. The head-dresses of these two reapers are peculiar to the island. This type of cap not only furnishes a covering for the wearer’s head, but is an improvised lunch bag, from which he will abstract a loaf of bread at the noon _ hour. At night it serves as his pillow. the island is more or less overrun by bandits; this is not true, and a traveler on the island today is even safer than he would be in southern Italy or Sicily. MEDIEVAL TOWERS CROWN CAGLIARI’S HILLS Macomer is the center of the region where many fine horses are bred for the army, as are also the small ponies used in Naples. After passing this town, the railroad descends to Oristano, on the west coast, noted for its pottery and par- ticularly its delicious pastry and almond sweets. The road then runs diagonally across a valley, from 10 to 15 miles wide, which extends down to Cagliari, at the southeastern end of the island. Cagliari is the principal port of Sar- dinia, and is often visited for a few hours by tourists taking the weekly steamer from Genoa and Livorno to Tunis. The bay of Cagliari is most impressive. On 99 the right and left as you enter are hills, with mountains in the distance, while ris- ing up from the lowlands directly oppo- site the entrance is the city, on a rocky hill 400 feet high. The top of this hill is encircled by a massive wall, built by the Pisans in the thirteenth century. At two of its angles rise the towers of the Lion and the Elephant, but of the tower of the Eagle, which completed the tri- angle, only the base remains. In the cen- ter of these fortifications 1s the old town and the cathedral. On the slopes of the hill outside the walls is built the modern city. Surrounding Cagliari are shallow bays, which extend inland for many miles, and are of interest because of the government salt recoveries, where huge mounds of salt, 20 to 40 feet high, can be seen on the flats. In the spring flocks of flamin- goes and other birds congregate on these lowlands and add to the beauty of the -doid Ur pay[y [jo Ayyensn ore s Q oO ea oTPPes YY, yseof oy} JO} uovie dIN}OId SUIYII]S B OYRUI sautinysOd dy} JO SIOTO PY SII oy} pue stopvoy 9} Aq polsivs s AYINOAOOD AHL NI INdVHO ‘VIVINS V OL HOVININDTId V NO DNIVAVIS N ct WOMHUSYOH AGNV N al WHSUYOH \1O je c Na [dV O'1TV AV rs IOUUL 9) Ml oD, 100 ‘NOP SWIRL VB JOU OAV suVIUIPAVG dy} TOF ‘purystr oy uO Arysnpur sty} yorWO. osa0uUN ‘SOLIOYSy AUUN} OP, “ATPBOOT powuNsuoy st, yoqvo,, Sty JO Te AyJOOvAd TOF ‘soulpsVS Moy y yoy, ‘oyqeyyosd pur quryIOdul 9.1e ‘purlyy 19y.O ot} 96 OM Jn “ELUIPARG LOLS OUIPAPS,, P1OM DY} JOS IAA SUNNOL OLWOd LV ONIHSIE ANNOAL A TAIN LOAN 101 SHIMLNOOD NVANVUMLLIGIN JNAOVfdV OL NOLLISOd MALLV’IAY VHH GNV VINIGUVS DNIMOHMS dVW HOLAMS GVILSWNE'HV I (Zo (GL ISS (07) * VINIGUVS 107.10] ore4stig Jautoo'e) £ gq O.TON NO 28 Rca b| ie S9LIOT, 04.10, RAOUP.LIe 5) LL, OF L0q OVD: TSO SOP). “—(IIUD Lf) VOISYOO ) 7 WOW LG f ’ usoygay ADS UDMNDIT aTTt oO eoueto[ Yo est CAE ) Bus O[Og 102 SARDINIAN MINERS ON THEIR WAY TO WORK Fifteen thousand natives find employment in the mines of the island. The center of this industry is in the southwestern corner, in the vicinity of Iglesias. Lead and zinc are the principal minerals, but silver, iron, antimony, coal, and copper are also produced. During the Spanish occupation of the island the mines of Sardinia were abandoned, for the soldiers of Aragon and Castile had discovered the fabulous wealth of the Montezumas and the Incas in the New World. 103 Photograph by C. W. Wright THE COSTUMES OF ARITZO, CENTRAL SARDINIA Just as the girls of the various towns and provinces of Holland are to be distinguished by the peculiar form of their quaint head-dresses, so the girls of Sardinian villages are known by the combination of colors in their costumes. The women and children dress alike— full skirts, usually dark red; white waists with full sleeves, and short bright red or bright blue jackets, open in front or laced around the waist. In some districts the pattern of the apron is the distinctive feature. 104 GREETING THE TOURIST WITH A SMILE Politeness is one of the striking characteristics of the Sardinians. As the traveler rides through a village the women, children, and the old men sitting at the doorways rise and cheerily cry out “Buon viaggro.” scenery. The land around the lagoons is especially fertile and well cultivated with truck gardens and vineyards, from which a very large quantity of wine is made. Cagliari, the largest city on the island and the capital of the southern province, has about 53,000 inhabitants. ‘The entire population of the island is estimated at 796,000, a density of population of 85 per square mile; this is a much lower figure than in any other part of Italy. Among the objects historically interest- ing in Cagliari are rock-cut tombs on the hillside below the Castello. These are probably of the same period as the “nu- raghi,” the famous prehistoric remains in Sardinia, and some may have been en- larged by the Romans into the tombs which still exist, well preserved and with Latin inscriptions on their walls. STRANGE RELICS OF THE BRONZE AGE Of the Roman period an ampitheater remains. ‘This is on the side hill to the west of the city and is fairly well pre- served, with the passages under the tiers of seats. The work of the Pisans in the cathedral was begun in 1312 A. D. and finished by the Aragons in 1331, but later partly rebuilt by the Spaniards in 1660. Among the modern buildings is a beauti- ful city hall, recently completed; a uni- versity with its library, which has a valu- able collection of manuscripts, among them a code of laws made by Eleanora of Arborea, who was a ruler of a part of Sardinia when it was divided into four provinces under the Spaniards. The southeastern corner of the old fortifica- tions has been remodeled to form a “piazza” above the city. Here concerts are held at midday on Sundays during the winter months and on summer evenings. It is the fashionable promenade, as is also the Via Roma, a boulevard along the edge of the bay. Throughout Sardinia prehistoric mon- uments are prominent in the shape of 105 DY} “BMPOOOARAT Woy oS8eAOA SjYysiu VB J9}ye PURIST dy} UO spuUL] JojaAvIY dy} OJOYM “KOURIY I[3ap OF[OF) puv vAoue GNVISI UHL JO GNX HIMON YH, YVAN LSVOO AMOOM AH FO MIA V oY} ST qurod possni STU} JO Yynos SoyrUt IUIOS *RIUIPIRS JO 1A9UIOD jSeo YOU oy} uo ‘vud[eppeyyy eT JO oseq [RAeU OY} IeOU ST O19 adry ‘WIOY OF J0d dT, JO JN) powojoad-jjam 106 ‘sAvp Jsvof IO} 9 MPPHN 24} FO JUvoSed Vv UT 99V prom uO ‘ yoypef oy} Jo $s winysood ArPew0}SsST jd sty wo1ry poddoqs ‘TeordA} ore ‘siasno1} SuIyIY-asojo pur JAI] cS) S peyserys ouwon ou yO } YJwouq SoAooqs MINA LSOO CHL ms ee Ie 2) pe ny M 00 te 19 SIY} UI paqies suroq JO proqysur sasy Y uUvur otf} YUrIYy JALYS FAOYS ‘TNF oy T UL ‘suol}es9uIS SUISIL IOJ SWOOTIY Se UMOP PapuPY 9q Udy} Ud Pu “OUTFIT B 4SeT TIM yey} spUOWIVS dyrUl 0} Jtodxo AdtOpIoi1quia oy} pue “IOAvOM oY} ‘sso.1]S 70 “Weds dy} SAVdd1 JF OS f9UUIN}sSOd DATVLU dy} IVAM OM ‘UdWIOM dy} Suowe DSULYS JIAO SafA}s OY, ‘AIJSHPUL JO Yovy OJ anp jou st uoNrpuods spoyy qnq ‘Aj1oAod Joofqe JO SuITpoIA 91e PuLIsE 94} JO a[dood oy} fo Auvyy VINIGUVS NI ANWOS OLLSHIWOG V 107 ‘SuepolIWeYOW 94} pozotAo Aoy} popraosd TTTAX wyof odog Aq puryst ay} pasruo1d usoq Sutavy 103] oy} ‘suvstq oy} Sq yno UOALID Ayyeuy sea ‘reat JO sivok Kuvur Joyye ‘oyM “JesnyY Jolyd UsIVIKG ay} JO pjoysuoss oy} sem zt OOO df dy} UL “puURISsT ay} JO ALOJSIY IY} UL Saposide SUPILYS AULL FO 9U9DS 9Y} Usoq SeY pue sURIDIUDYY oY} Aq popuno}J seM JY ‘sjuRJGeYyUL OOO'ES JO UO} Sty} SE Brlulpreg Jo Apo [edioursid oy yp YOUIVH AHL WOM IMVIIOVD AO VINVMONVd V 108 A YOUNG MARRIED COUPLE OF IGI,ESIAS The Sardinians have a high regard for womankind. grave, and decorous mountain race, suspicious of all innovations. They are a vigorous, hospitable, The silver buttons and voluminous trousers of the bridegroom are typical. truncated cones about 30 feet in diameter at the base and built of large rough blocks of stone about 2 feet high and of varying lengths. These towers are the “nuraghi” belonging to the Bronze Age and show that the island must have been well popu- lated in the centuries antedating the Christian era. The entrance to the “nu- raghi” usually faced the south and served to light the circular room within, as did 109 also a door opening to a spiral staircase built in the walls and leading to a cham- ber above the ground floor. Few of the “nuraghi” have the roofing preserved en- tirely, so that we no longer see them in their full height or original cone shape. Some have two or three chambers on the ground floor with niches in the walls, probably for household gods. These towers were undoubtedly forti- ‘aorAJos Areyyiw Atosyndwos jo porsod *"SIOADT JJO PALA O} UPUIST[e} Moy} SULINp ssensueR] [eIoyjo ay} o1Inboe ust 9Y} pue ‘sjooyos ay} UL Jyone} MOU st URT]TeI] Jnq ‘Usyods aie sjoo[VIp AuvyyY ‘spieiuedg pue SIy St ,4saq Avpung,, siq Suloq 0} UOT}Ippe ur “YSIYM ‘oTJUBUT UTYS ‘sueljey] “susoeieg ‘sueWIOY “sURIUISeYyyIeD “sueToIUaYq—solinjusd oy} -dooys B SULIvAM SI JapeUdtOS OYJ, ‘“SyoeI5) JUTOUR ay} JO sodid ay} Yysno1y} puryst oy} perdnoso0 sAey YOTYyM sooer AUC 9} JO S9de4} UIeJOI 0} dOURTGUIISOT Suryl4ijs C Sivoq JUSUINA}SUL [BOISNUL UVIUIPARS SIT, SOAIJCU 9} OP ‘aSeNsuUr] I19Y4} UT ynq ‘somnj}eoz Jay} UL ATUO JON : : : : i VdduNNV'I AHL NO INOS HAOT V NYdGIVW NVINIGYVS V I10 : * Photograph by C. W. Wright THE COMMUNITY LAUNDRY TUB Every day is wash day in Sardinia, and the public fountain takes the place of the village well of the Orient and the sewing circle of the Occident as a social center fied habitations. They are usually situ- ated in commanding positions at the en- trance to tablelands, near the fords of rivers, or on almost inaccessible moun- tain peaks, and within signaling distance of one another. ‘Traces of at least 5,000 “nuraghi” have been found. The ancient tombs of the inhabitants of the ‘“nuraghi” are usually found near them. These are called the “tombs of the giants,” and are chambers 3% feet wide and from 30 to 40 feet long, with a roof of flat slabs of rock and with the sides made of the slabs or of rough walling. The bodies were probably arranged in a sitting position. In front of the tombs are circles about 40 feet in diameter, sur- rounded by stones; these were, no doubt, used for sacrifices and burial rites. Another type of tombs found in Sar- dinia is that of the small grottoes cut in the rock like those in prehistoric ceme- teries in Sicily. In these tombs and in the “nuraghi” sarcophagi were discov- ered, generally of marble; also idols con- sisting of small bronze figures varying from 4 to 17 inches in height, images of dogs, bats, apes, and other animals—all most crude in workmanship and gro- tesque in form; medals, coins, vases, or- naments, arms, and articles of terra-cotta and glass. Most of these latter must an- tedate the Roman occupation. Some of these relics and similar objects, including articles of jewelry dating from the Ro- man occupation, can be seen in the Mu- seum at Cagliari. LANGUAGE REFLECTS MANY RACES The Pheenician settlement is the ear- liest of which there is any accurate knowl- edge. Sardinia was said to be the grain- producing center of the Carthaginians about 500 B. C. The Romans captured it in 238 B. C., and it was then noted for its supply of corn. The Romans built many towns and roads, and remains of their monuments, temples, and sepulchers ~ ‘pnposd urwoY oY} Se JUIUTUOD dy} UO PJOS pue dS9dq9 OJUT po}1AUOD st YOIYM “YIU 119} TOF yNq JOOM 49y} 10F ATUO You poztid o1e dooys oy J, “SMOYS Jops1oYy 94} JO JuNOU [eoidAz sry} se {feMs APQeyivwos oie pur]s! oy} JO sSoyuop oy, MOOIA SIH GNV GYXHdHHS NVINIGUVS V WSIM “MM ‘SO Aq ydessojoyg 113 ee ‘YS PUL IPIM Joo} YC puev Youd] UI JooJ OF 0} OF WOIT ‘CIUIPARG JO syURPGRYUL OLLOysIYyosd ay} JO Péeydoo -1VS ophdto «c SQULOFY SJUvLS oY} tv sooryd [VIAN od} OF JSPAPUOD "ofp > arp = — a 3 <2 (y- ‘ ” ; SAB DOUE PDUs STEAD So Te SPOLet ote Oss Poatosors soul} U[ ‘S}ltdS dy} JO sasnoy JO (‘seuPLs op snuop,, 94} SB UMOUY o4e pur “SOO OIVAOALJD JSOUL APY} BULB IV ssoyVq AVY oy, “Bupyed a10joq AySeanu, oy} Jo sumaposnew UMdy-yoos ayy csv oyy yng ‘Soavo ~RanyeU SANOY JOF popkouy St puv ‘9.1nj}xXo} ouUy JO ‘oPTYM ond v st peor oy, JQWISIL OPIS UIBJUNOW dy} UL SajOY dsoy} ‘VouRISIP B WOsy PoMot) S / 4 Sale 4 7 antag ps 7 Wye uf i a WSU (M ‘CS Aq ydessojoy 113 SUOIJIIIINSUI OM} SurjonD Jozjfe ‘snyoovsy sniuosduiag yey} papsOIeI SI 4] ‘IUIOY O} SOALTS UPIUIPIeS OO0‘OR YOO} ‘soqi4} Ule}UNOUL FO ‘ojdood uMO sj JOF S}1Ods UeY} P[IOM JUaToUe 9} FO Jeyides years dy} UL SOURS oY} JOF SWI}SIA UPUINY o1OUl poysluiIng BIULpIesS ‘uoljzedn390 ueWOY JO I]ot & ST ‘soyouad UMOY-YIOT SIT YIM ‘um. DATSUI}XO SIT, ¢ IYVIIOVO UVAN UALVAH LIHAWV JO SNIVWAY Si . om ee * RAE, Pea II4 —— ee Photograph by C. W. Wright SHEPHERDS OF POVERTY-STRICKEN SARDINIA One glimpse at this trio would be enough to send a shudder down the spine of a stranger who has feasted upon the out-of-date tales of bandit-ridden Sardinia, but these three cronies are harmless natives, who, in spite of their bitter fight against heavy taxes and the relatively high cost of living, never annoy the tourists by begging, as do so many of the people of southern Italy. are still preserved. The Byzantines cap- tured Sardinia from the Romans and held it until the tenth century, when the Sara- cens took possession, and were in turn drivenwout iby the Pisans. There: are traces of the influence of Pisa in the fine Romanesque churches which are still well Geese In some churches the late Gothic architectural style shows Spanish influence, which came after the surrender of the Pisans to Genoa, and then to James Il of Aragon. In 1708 Cagliari surren- dered to the English, but in the War of Spanish Guecession the island came under the rule of Austria. Finally, after more exchange, 1t was given to the Duke of Savoy, who acquired with it the title of King of Sardinia. It is not strange that the language of the people should contain elements of the languages of all the races which have oc- cupied the island. The dialects, of which there are five or six, are a mixture of Latin, Spanish, and Italian, with a little Pheenician and traces of other ancient tongues. In Alghero, on the west coast, pure Catalan is spoken; in some villages almost pure Latin; and in Carloforte, on the southwestern coast, the Genoese dia- lect prevails. Italian, however, is now taught in the schools to the children, while the men acquire it during their compul- sory military service. To get an insight into the life of the inhabitants of this isolated island, one should visit its villages. It is in the entire eastern half, with its mountainous valleys and villages, where the real Sards now live. Here one will find them good look- ing and in good health, generous, hos- pitable, honorable, and quite poor. Po- liteness is carried almost to an extreme. Often as one rides through a small vil- lage the women, children, and old men ears at the doorsteps rise and wish you “buon viaggio’; or if it happens to be 115 ‘PoAtosoid JJOM [Is o1v ‘s[euUe JYsneIp poos oyeuUl UdKO UPIUIPIeS dt} ‘eUIs YSnoyIy dso} FO 9WOS puUe ‘puURISI 9Y} UO PazoN4AJSUOD dIaM SpROI JO sou OOO'T ATL VINIGUVS NI NOLLVIMOdSNVUL TRI M-OML ou uorjedns90 UCLUIO YY JO Pio ol} SULING] 116 LITTLE-KNOWN SARDINIA noon, some may wish you a “buon appe- tito.” Even the young boys are taught to take their hats off when strangers pass by; and if one is in an automobile and happens to stop to get out his kodak, a crowd of youngsters seem to spring up around the car, all anxious to be in the picture. To refuse a cup of coffee or a liqueur when visiting the house of an in- habitant of a village is an act of great dis- courtesy, and even the poorest have some beverage to offer. NATIVES EXCESSIVELY POLITE Generally speaking, the peasants seem to be somewhat downtrodden and do not realize their just rights. We thought the attitude of the man in the following inci- dent most unusual: When motoring along one of the straight roads down through the valley to Cagliari, we saw a man ahead on horseback. He jumped off ina great hurry and, holding the horse by the end of the reins, got down into the deep ditch at the side of the road. As the car came up he was so interested in probably the first automobile he had ever seen that he forgot his horse, which, unexpectedly, ‘gave a jump down into the ditch almost on top of the man, upsetting him and his saddle-bags into the mud. When we stopped to examine the harm done and to help him up he was very gratified and most profuse in his apologies for having pe us, Saying: “Excuse me, excuse ; it was all my fault.” he music of the Sards is character- istic ; not all quick and vivacious like that of the Sicilians or other southern Ital- ians, but monotonous and slow, resem- bling very much the music of northern Africa. Often a long song will be sung to one phrase of a melody, like a sorrow- ful chant. The accordion is a favorite instrument, and in the villages on Sun- days or other festas most of the inhabit- ants congregate in the principal piazza and dance to its music. ‘The men and women form in a circle and dance slowly forward and backward, some of the younger men adding more complicated steps, occasionally breaking away from the circle and dancing with their part- ners ; but the whole effect is dignified and staid. 117 Fach “‘paese” or village has its annual festival to celebrate the birthday of its own particular saint or some other church feast. ‘The most renowned of these is the “festa” of “Saint’ Efisio,” the national feast of the island. The ceremony is in the form of a procession from Cagliari to Pula, a village 9 miles away, with. the re- turn to Cagliari. The saint was an offi- cial in the army of Diocletian, and for his conversion to Christianity was beheaded at Pula. On midday of May 1 the pro- cession leaves and returns on the evening of May 4. : It is composed of a cavalcade of horsemen all in the costume of the ancient Sardinian militia, escorting the image of the saint, which is preceded by musicians playing the “launeddas,” an in- strument made of three or four reeds of different lengths and like the pipe of ancient times. In the region about Iglesias where the mines are, the workmen celebrate an- nually the festa of Santa Barbara, -“‘the god of fire,’ which usually results in much wine drinking, followed by a few days’ absence from work, so as to re- cuperate. PICTURESQUE COSTUMES OF SARDS The Sards’ costumes are one of their greatest attractions. They are of rich, harmonious, though brilliant, colors, each village having its own distinctive type, which does not change from year to year; so the men and women are thus known by the clothes they wear. Unfortunately the general European type of dress is being adopted by the younger generation, and it is now difficult to find many towns in which the native dress is used by all the inhabitants. There are a few such villages up in the mountains near Nuoro, where the rail- road has not penetrated, and here it is most interesting to see the women and little girls all dressed alike. The skirts are usually very full, accordion plaited in some villages,with a distinctive trimming ; white waists with full sleeves, and over these short jackets, open in front or laced around the waist. All in a town have the same combination of color, perhaps a dark red skirt and the jacket in bright red and bright blue, a diagonal stripe of each NURAGHE, TO THE NORTH OF MACOMER, SARDINIA Numerous prehistoric monuments like this relic of the Bronze Age dot Sardinia. The arrangements of the interior of these structures are such as to indicate that they were used as fortified habitations and not as tombs or temples. The diameters of these truncated cones range from 30 to 100 feet at the base, and they are from 30 to 60 feet high. The entrances, about 6 feet high and 2 feet wide, almost invariably face south. Se Photograph by C. W. Wright “GIOCARE ALLA MORRA!” The game of “morra” holds for the man of Italian blood the same allurements that poker > holds for some Americans, and that “craps” has for the southern darky. So excited do the morra players become over the hazards of this, their national betting pastime, that tragedies not infrequently result; hence the police frown upon the practice, but always with a certain fond indulgence. it sounds. color meeting in the back, and with tiny bonnets of the two bright colors. In some the most distinctive characteristic is the covering of the head—a_bright- colored handkerchief or a white veil folded back or held in place by a silver 119 It is played entirely with the fingers and consists of trying to guess how many fingers your opponent will hold out at the instant he acts. It is more difficult than chain under the chin; in other towns the apron is characteristic in its color and shape. The most elaborate dresses are, of course, kept for festas, and these have hand embroidery and are often of very 120 heavy silks and brocades, sometimes with exquisite lace scarfs or veils folded back on the head. The jewelry is most elab- orate, too—large gold buttons worn at the throat ; large ear-rings and pendants. The costumes and jewelry are almost al- ways heirlooms in the families. The men’s costumes usually consist of woolen leggings, white, full trousers, long or short, a full ruffle of black cloth worn around the waist; and this, too, differs in length. Some of the jackets are short and some long, but all have sil- ver buttons down the front. The shep- herd wears a sheepskin, on which the wool has been left, over his shoulders throughout the year, even in midsummer, and claims that it keeps away the ma- laria. In some districts the men wear a pointed cap resembling a Phrygian bon- net, long and narrow lke a stocking, reaching almost to the waist; the point is either worn down over the shoulders or folded on the top of the head and may be used as a pillow at night. It is apt to contain anything from bread to snuff, which is indispensable to the older Sard. A queer custom of some of the younger men is to let the hair on the top of their heads grow often to 15 inches in length, and then roll it up into a puff, which looks like a pompadour, across the fore- head. Among the distinctive products of Sar- dinia is cheese made of goat’s milk and used very generally by Italians. The wines are noted for their strength. An interesting export is cork, which is taken from the trees every five years, leaving the bare, red trunks noticeable all over the island. Many sheep, goats, pigs, cattle, and horses are raised and sold on the continent. IMPORTANT MINING OPERATIONS The mining industry is probably the most important, the principal metals pro- duced being lead and zinc. Iglesias, in the southwestern corner, is the center of mining activity. The mines employ about 15,000 workmen, and the output is THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE approximately 60,000 tons of lead con- centrates and 120,000 tons of zinc con- centrates annually. Some silver, iron, antimony, copper, and coal are also pro- duced. The tunny fisheries off the island of San Pietro are noteworthy. In the spring schools of these fish pass through the Mediterranean, and enormous numbers are caught in nets and brought to the large canneries at Carloforte. There is very good hunting on the island. The moufflon, a cross between a wild sheep and a deer, is found in the mountains and is native only to Sardinia; there are also some fallow deer and red deer. By far the most numerous of the big game is the wild boar. Hare, par- tridges, woodcock, snipe, quail, and wild duck are all found in large quantities. AN ISLAND OF WILD FLOWERS The wild flowers are most beautiful, and there is practically no month in which a great variety is not found. Among these are orchids, narcissus, lilies, gladi- olas, irises, cyclamen, fox-gloves, pop- pies, and sweet peas. In the summer months, usually from May until Septem- ber, there is no rainfall. During the win- ter the rains are heavy and often accom- panied by strong winds. In the northern part of the island a good deal of snow falls, and often the ground remains coy- ered for a month at a time; but in the southern part of the island there is_al- most never any snow and seldom any frost. In the gardens there roses, helio- trope, calla lilies, nasturtiums, ivy, gera- niums, marguerites, and many other flow- ers bloom all winter. It is during the summer that these cease blossoming. May, June, and October are the months most pleasant for travel in Sardinia. The country is at its best then; the cultivated fields green, the wild flowers most pro- fuse, the climate least variable, and the roads, which are covered with “ghiata,” or broken rock, from December to Feb- ruary, are then in perfect condition. - THE AWAKENING OF ARGENTINA AND CHILE Progress in the Lands That Lie Below Capricorn By Baritey WiItLIs KE NORTH AMERICANS, who live in a vast continent that les nearly all in the tem- perate and cooler zones, scarcely realize that South America is four-fifths tropical. Fields of wheat and oats are familiar to us, but in South America are scarcely seen outside of Argentina and Chile, ex- cept in high, cool valleys. South America might be called a banana country. Bananas grow from Paraguay to Mex- ico; wheat and oats flourish only in the tapering tip of the southern continent ; and this gives to Argentina and Chile a peculiar interest among South American countries as the homes of vigorous, ener- getic peoples competent to rule them- selves. To Argentina and Chile we may add Uruguay and the highlands of south- eastern Brazil, and also the limited areas of the tropical Andes, whose altitude gives them cool climates. The rest of the continent, the vast interior, is the land of the siesta—the land to be developed and administered by peoples of the temperate zones. The great task and obligation of Ar- gentina, southern Brazil, and Chile, the A, B, C powers, is to guide the develop- ment of the tropical Americas, through the exercise of wise statesmanship, to- ward stability, peace, and prosperity. Rio de Janeiro, on the Atlantic coast, and Antofagasta, on the Pacific, mark the southern limit of the tropics, and thence southward the southern continent narrows rapidly to the point of Cape Horn. The equivalent distance in North America is from Florida to Labrador, or from oranges to reindeer moss. Florida and Rio are both renowned for their oranges, and Cape Horn shares with Lab- rador a most inhospitable reputation ; but it is more like Scotland than Labrador. THE SCOTLAND OF SOUTH AMERICA The southernmost land, tapering south- ward between the oceans, is nowhere so cold as the broad expanse of North America is in similar latitude, and ‘Tierra del Fuego, a region of bogs, fogs, and snow squalls, is a congenial home for Scotchmen and long-wooled sheep. Buenos Aires, the focal point of life and intercourse south of Rio, lies half way between Rio and Cape Horn, in the latitude corresponding to Charleston. Palms grow there in the public gardens, and yet, the houses being unheated, a northerner may greatly enjoy on a damp, chill winter day the soft coal fire which he will find where Englishmen congregate. Neither very cold nor very hot, the seasons are similar to those of our coast from Norfolk to Charleston ; but they are reversed. As the sun circles northward past the Equator their summer ends, while our winter half year begins. ‘There is always summer, north or south; always winter, too. When we are preparing to leave the cities Argentine society is gath- ered from the country estates for pleasure and politics in the greater metropolis, which alternates with Paris and vies with the French capital in seasons of gaiety. THE METROPOLIS OF THE SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE Buenos Aires is to Argentina what Paris is to France—the center of the na- tional industries, thought, and culture. Commerce, journalism, politics, the drama and music, literature, art, and so- cial life are intensely focused there. The brilliant activity of the greatest city of the Southern Hemisphere (the fourth city of the Americas, after New York, Chi- cago, and Philadelphia) draws the Ar- gentines to it as a flame attracts moths, and one-fifth of the population of the country struggles there in feverish com- petition for pleasure and gain. No traveler to the southern countries but stops as long as he may in Buenos Aires to enjoy or to study the most cos- mopolitan, yet most latinized, of the ‘\muted suONIpuOD JOyJeVAM JOAQUIYM UddO dy} Ut Jso1 pue yea pue Yood Ady} ynq “d1ay} UTeI pue pyjoOd Woy Joys puy pue oprtsur daajs Aayy, *‘SJo9YM UO SI9SHOY UL IUIT} VY} FO YONUW IAT] SAO MOD OY} eUlJUIS VNILNHOUV NI LYHONOD AOTMO Iy jo sedured oy} JO sazejsa 0 Vv sIq ouo0 pue pur SHOU, ott ud 2° *JYSIU 19AO SOUL SOATVUOTT PICU puvsnoyy} v Suryeu pur AsyunoS oUt dn suruodo ‘SpvrorpIet oy} OUIeD ud T, "peodriet e Wwoly Soyrutr jo Sspo1punty UdAd pur S91OOS OTOM Aoy} wa “TO JJO O} svy YAAva oy [10s IL] Jsoq oy JO SOTOV podopoaAopun jo SUOT][EUL pry jJI—O.3v Savod potpuny eC OTIOM SVSUVY| puv PMO] puv SIOUT]]] JEYAXL SVAL OUTJUISIV oy} OSV SIvok ALT ‘OCOLS OY} FO J[VY UsOYJNOS ot J} UL A}ID JSoyIt oY} pur snojndod jsout ay} St Soary souong VNILNYOUV “SHUlV SONANEG :OAVIN ACA VZV'Id ine io] WILD :SHAIM SIIT JO AWOS GNV (AN6IDVO) AaIMO NVINVOAVUV NV —<— ee rs © Keystone View Co. Photograph by A. S. Iddings. AN ITALIAN SETTLER 'AND HIS‘ FAMILY: MENDOZA, ARGENTINA Mendoza is the southern California. of Argentina. Irrigation has long been successfully applied to its vineyards, which produce more wine than the combined vineyards of the entire United States of North America. than 2,000 feet. Italians are, for the most part, employed in the cultivation The whole of the province lies at an altitude of more of the grapes, the whole family accompanying husband and father to the field and assisting in tending the vines. Spanish-American cities. We shall have occasion to return to the metropolis that is at once the heart and the brain of the country, but first let us look at the land itself, of which the port is the gateway. The location of Buenos Aires combines the advantages of those of New York and of New Orleans in all that relates to oversea and to inland commerce. ‘Trans- oceanic routes converge to the Rio de la Plata as they do to the Hudson; the navi- gable waterways of the Parana-Paraguay reach as far into the interior as the Mis- sissippi-Missouri and offer deeper chan- nels to navigation. As far as Argentine jurisdiction extends, the Uruguay, Pa- rana, and Paraguay rivers have been Or The babies are put to sleep in improvised tents while their elders work. dredged and buoyed and already are pre- pared to serve as arteries of commerce, such as the Mississippi is yet to become. North of the Rio de la Plata and be- tween the Atlantic and the Parana-Para- guay basin stretches the most beautiful and healthful region of semi-tropical South America. Here are the coffee plantations of Sao Paulo, Brazil, the most productive of the world; here the Ger- man settlements of Santa Caterina and Rio Grande do Sul constitute the isolated Teutonic colonies; here Uruguay and Paraguay form buffer States between the great rivals, their neighbors, and here are included the rich Argentine Common- wealths of Entre Rios and Corrientes. SOMHNOVA SIH JO AWOS GNV WAIWUVA OG-OL-TTIM V Yj Yi Shh fy Yi AWAKENING OF ARGENTINA AND CHILE A LAND OF VAST POSSIBILITIES Equivalent in area to the region which stretches northwest from the Alleghanies to the Mississippi and the Great Lakes, equal to the States of Alabama, Missis- sippi, Tennessee, Kentucky, Ohio, Indi- ana, and Illinois in extent, beautiful in upland landscape of verdant hills and valleys, this territory invites a dense population whose prosperity would be assured under a good government. But divided as it is by arbitrary politi- cal boundaries, misgoverned with vari- ous degrees of misgovernment, it lies inert. The failure of individual and gov- ernmental initiative, the isolation of the frontier, where weak settlements face the forest, the lack of roads and railroads leave the interior still a part of the wil- derness. Santos in the north and Montevideo in the south are the outlets of this rich coun- try. Both are important shipping ports, from which railways radiate westward and northwestward. Eventually they will be connected with one another and with Asuncion, on the Paraguay, by lines that will develop and will exploit its resources. Montevideo holds a position naturally superior to that of Buenos Aires, and were it the capital of an equally great re- public might rival the latter in wealth and population ; but, limited as Uruguay is by the Argentine and Brazilian possessions to the proportions of a petty State, it con- stitutes the hinterland of a secondary city, which Montevideo will long and per- haps always continue to be. The Rio de la Plata separates two widely different districts—the wooded uplands of Uruguay and the treeless pampas of Argentina. The former is the southern extension of the great region of Brazil, and although now largely brought 1ato cultivation, it is a region where trees flourish as a part of the indigenous flora. The pampas, on the other hand, have al- ways been treeless until plantations of eucalyptus or orchards of fruit trees were laid out upon the estates of wealthy Ar- gentines. PAMPAS COMPARED WITH PRAIRIES The pampas are a vast grassy plain. Is there anything more to be said? As “is-a bally billiard table?” 127 an Englishman put it, “What can you say about a bally billiard table except that it Yet the plain of the pampas is not like the great west- ern plains of the United States. The latter are broken by gullies, furrowed by streams, traversed by river valleys. The pampas are not. Among all landscapes of the world there is none more meadow-like than the flat pampa, with the cattle grazing in the rich grass; but the meadow grass hides no meandering brook. Hour after hour and day after day you may ride without crossing a stream. You will, however, encounter many shallow pools and lake- lets. The pampa looks so flat, so featureless! But is it? Watch a horseman galloping away toward the horizon, toward which he rises silhouetted against the sky. Soon he sinks and drops out of sight, having apparently ridden over the edge of the world; but an hour later he may rise again, topping a more distant swell of the vast grassy ocean surface. North, east, south, or west it is the same—a billowy plain, hollowed and molded by the wind, the free-flowing air, which in place of running water has sculptured the im- mense expanse of fine brown earth. THE AMERICAN WINDMILL’S GREAT SERVICE It is a paradise for cattle in the average year, when the rain fills the lakelets and the pasture, whether freshly green or cured to natural hay, affords abundant feed. Occasionally a dry season inter- venes ; the water pools dry up; the plain becomes a waterless desert. Formerly in such years disaster overcame the herd- man and his herds. Lingering by the shrinking pools, hundreds of thousands of cattle and sheep suffered from thirst and famine till they fell and mummified in the dust. It is somewhat different now. The seasons still vary inexorably, and from time to time comes one of drought and loss; but it has lost its gravest men- ace. Scattered over the pampa, wherever they may be wanted, are windmills, and beside each mill is a tank and drinking trough. The wind, which so sculptured ; UNIV} ULITIOWY JY} UO Wed} 9SIOY-FV dy} JO AdJUNOD Surusiey vzuruo0q Jepodijue sty} ur soejd 94} Saye} JID XO-g OYJ, “SpeOrpIeL dy} Wor; ABM Soll AUPUT []IJS 91 SIOUMO-pURT SIG asoy} JO aWOG ‘oODd‘O00‘OzTY ev ponyea pur] sey Mou pur ose sieok AjfZy ssafluued papurey] OYM URWYSI] UB doy} f pur] sted JO Sopitu dIeNDs OQT SUMO OYM URWOA ¥ SI d1O]] WANOOHOS HINIVId NVOIWAWV AHL JO. NOISHHA ANILNAOUV AHL ) alle ee THRESHING ON THE PAMPAS WITH AN AMERICAN ENGINE AND Photograph by Nevin O. Winter AN ENGLISH SEPARATOR The people of Argentina annually raise for export forty dollars’ worth of foodstuffs per capita. The highest prices ever paid for breeding stock has been paid by the Argentines, with the result that they have the finest draft horses, the best of beef cattle, and the highest type of sheep. the hollows of the plain that a very large proportion of the rainfall sinks into it, now pumps the supply back to the herds, which otherwise might perish stamping the dust just above the subterranean waters. Man meets Nature and conquers her, the more effectually the more intelli- gently he goes about it. Common sense impels the ranchero to erect windmills, or in seasons of drought to drive his cattle to districts of more abundant rainfall. The Argentine is also raising fodder crops, and as the cattle industry becomes organized on the sound economic basis of the greatest good for the greatest num- ber, instead of the system of “\Sauve qui peut,’ the herds of the pampa will no longer know the famines that in earlier times depopulated the plain. The soil and the climate of the pampas give the Argentine Republic its high rank among the wheat and corn growing coun- tries of the world. The soil is an ancient alluvium, the fine sediment carried by old rivers far out from the mountains, like the deposit now being made by the Para- Argentina is becoming one of the world’s great granaries. guay and its tributaries, an island delta far in the interior of the continent. The sediment was very fine, and mingled with it is a large proportion of fine volcanic dust, blown from the volcanoes of the Andes. It covers about 200,000 square miles in the provinces of Buenos Aires, Santa Fe, Cordova, and San Luis. Like the re- nowned loess soils of China, it is exceed- ingly fertile and, being very porous, ab- sorbs the rain waters, which rise again by evaporation and supply the surface soil constantly with plant food. WHEAT REGULATED PROSPERITY In former days it mattered nothing to the world at large and comparatively little to the Argentine himself whether the sea- son was a favorable one for wheat or not: but now, when millions beyond her con- fines look to Argentina for bread and when Argentine prosperity is regulated by the wheat she sells, it matters much. The time will come, probably, when plentiful rains or drought will matter less than now; for at present agriculture in ‘OTIYD ‘PIAIpyeA 0} Seury OUI] OY} IPoU—}JooF OOS‘e St YP] ay} JO opnjzye UL uosiy ‘oluojuy ueg OJON wor APMyIeI [ejuouTUO SURI} DY} FO BOS DAOGE JooF OOS*G JnoKe ye S}UIUNS YIM 4so19 JURISIP dy} SMO[JOF O[IYO YIM OVOUN OIN FO ANOLIVAHL “SHANV UNLLNTOUV WH, FO NOISY AMV’ IdVOH THOUVN ({1V'T ) SITTIM Aopieg Aq ydessojoyg Y OOV'I JO HIMON “MUVd ‘IVNOLLVN “INI, MOUV WH NI “(OLmase OOv’r) - , y Ae pune I] IU L IM V’I MOULIN Copyright Keystone View Co. THE BAY AND CITY: VALPARAISO, CHILE The city of Valparaiso, as well as almost the whole of Chile, have been severely tried by earthquake, and the fact that the nation has risen from each such disaster with no apparent interruption to its growth is nothing short of remarkable. The city was almost wholly destroyed on August 16, 1906, by an earthquake and the terrible fires which attended it, sustaining a $100,000,000 property loss. Yet within a single decade few, if any, traces of the disaster may be seen, and the city is larger and more prosperous than ever. Argentina is in that elementary state when it is most exposed to injury by the vicissitudes of climate. Great fields are cultivated by few hands. ‘The poorly prepared soil, the shallow plowing, the neglect of cultivation, all invite losses in any but a favorable year. In the east the rainfall is usually abun- dant or excessive. There are areas of Buenos Aires province which are inun- dated by heavy rains, and great drainage works have been undertaken by the gov- ernment at the instance of the land- owners. From east to west the rainfall diminishes till it becomes insufficient for agriculture in the average year, and farm- ing can prosper only where irrigation is practicable. SOILS SUITED TO EVERY CROP TTA . Thus the pampas, of which we may think as a monotonous region, exhibit 131 000'F 0} OOO'E Je AIJUNOD Sulze1s SPM YPIYM ISpPlI ulejyuNnOUW plo u SUTEA Aopeg Sq ydes30j04 4 ay oy ej } JO O14SItoJOVIeYO St Ad[VA oT, “UOIsSO1a Aq Ulese Pasodx9 Usaq sey pur yse udsdtdat SYIOL asa, ‘SopuVy IY} JO Jsvoa Sop OS “OlsaNV Oy Jo sedured sso] VNILINHOUV ‘(AMAT MOVIE) OMAN OLA : NWANVWIId FO AM'TIVA "RAS DAOKL Joo}F MNUBI[OA AOpUN poling AypoJoyduroy 99.1} oY} UL syvod po}oo1INsoyy (co) AWAKENING OF ARGENTINA AND CHILE ay great diversity of aspect. Proportions of them may be flooded while other distant regions of the same plain are drying up. Portions are suited to the growing of wheat, others to cattle raising, and still others in the warmer, rainy zone about Rosario are adapted best to the raising of Indian corn. The Great Southern Railway of Buenos Aires compiles for its own information charts which show the quantities of wheat, oats, linseed, cattle, sheep, and alfalfa received at each of its stations year by year. Thus the management may know not only what income any station yields, but also what is the crop that pro- duces the particular return. It is most interesting to observe the grouping of products—wheat in this district, oats in another, cattle elsewhere—each in its pre- ferred localities predominating over minor quantities of the other products and demonstrating the existence of con- trolling factors which give great eco- nomic diversity to the apparent natural monotony of the pampas. In part due to natural conditions, in part dependent upon artificial ones, such as the lack of roads, these factors are changing from year to year; and they are destined to change constantly in the di- rection of greater security and product- iveness in agricultural pursuits as the country passes from the actual primitive conditions of development to those of a more advanced community. THE HUB OF THE ARGENTINE WHEEL OF FORTUNE To gain an idea of the extent of the fertile pampa region, one needs but look at a railway map of Argentina. Buenos Aires and Rosario are the two ports of shipment of its products, the centers from which traffic radiates to all sections of the country. English and other capi- tal has been expended to the amount of 200,000,000 pounds sterling in building railways to develop the rich lands, but in the more arid and less profitable country the lines have been extended only as trunk lines, aimed to reach some distant point. The pampas are the hub of the Argentine wheel of fortune, of which Buenos Aires, the Argentine El Dorado, is the center. ishes. Oo The area of the pampas, about 200,000 square miles, is one-sixth of the country. In the larger part which lies beyond the pampas, the other five-sixths, there is a great extent of lands destined by the gen- eral scarcity of water to pastoral pur- suits; there are some real desert areas; and there are also districts of great nat- ural resources, which are either actual or potential contributors to the natural wealth. THE ROME OF THE ANTIPODES In the Argentine all travel, all enter- prise, all development, stars from Buenos Aires. Let us place ourselves in that Rome of the Southern Hemisphere, from which all roads lead, and make rapid ex- cursions to the more interesting of the outlying provinces of her commercial dominion. An excursion to the northward may pass by rail through the provinces or States of Entre Rios and Corrientes to the Territory of Missiones, which was secured by Argentina through the arbi- tration of her boundary with Brazil by President Cleveland. Entre Rios and Corrientes are lands traversed by ancient watercourses of the Parana, which form wide expanses of swamp among the mod- erately high ridges and plateaus. Missiones, an extension of the western table-land of Brazil, is a paradise, like upland Florida, scarcely ever touched by frost. This is the route to Paraguay and the old city of Asuncion, from which the traveler will prefer to return by one of the steamers plying down the river of Buenos Aires or Montevideo; or, if it be one of the Brazilian Lloyd line, even making the voyage to Rio. The line of the Central Cérdova Rail- way, after leaving the Parana and Ro- sario, runs through Cordova, the con- servative seat of Spanish aristocracy and learning, and on through the desert of Santiago de Estero to Tucuman, the oasis where the sugar monopoly flour- Tucuman lies in a local area of greater rainfall at the foot of the superb Aconquija Range, a spur of the Andes which towers more than 10,000 feet above the city. Where the streams from the moun- tains spread upon the tropical plain, there ‘JOoF OOPII FO opnyyyr ur sey ‘yvod d]IqISIA JSoysiy oy} “Iopeuory, JUNOT, ‘osuel oy} oyisoddo oye] oY} Jays pue yurod sty} ye Avun’yT oy} Sssord TIM ‘OpIyD “VIAIpyeA pur ‘eur -UdsIy ‘PIUOJUY URS O}JONG UdoMjod APAIIEL [eJUSUTJUODSURIY MoU IY, ‘SopuUY IY} FO JAY OY} OF SuNjeIjoUNd pue ArTOJUOWOId oY} PUlYyoq FYSIA oY} OF SUIPUTM SUC] So]IU OO SI OAV] OYJ, “SOPUY 24} PlLMO} “Yr SoAVIT (JOATY AvUT’T) ABUT OY 9} OAOYAL “ONP] oY} JO JoTNO oy} WorF Mor \ SHANV UNILNAHOUV :IdVOH THOHVN UNV SITIM Aopieg Aq ydessojoyg AWAKENING OF ARGENTINA AND CHILE are extensive plantations and refineries ; and on the mountain slopes are the villas of the wealthy planters, who may be whirled in a few moments in their autos over well-built roads to temperate or even to alpine climes. Extending still farther northwest, the railway reaches Quiaca, on the Argentine boundary, where it is eventually to be connected with the Bo- livian system that centers in La Paz. Those who do not mind two or three days’ staging may even now go on via La Pas to Antofagasta or Mollendo, on the Pacific coast. Cordova, the old university town, was linked in the old colonial days by such lines of commercial intercourse as ex- isted and by ties of interest rather with Tucuman, San Juan, and Mendoza, the centers of population in the Andes, than with the isolated settlement of Buenos Aires on the coast; and in sympathy at least the relation still holds. Provincial conservatism is characteristic of the in- terior cities. In Mendoza, however, wealth has done more to modify the old customs than in Cordova. THE SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA OF SOUTH AMERICA Mendoza is the southern California of Argentina. Irrigation has long been suc- cessfully appled to her vineyards and she has grown rich on their products. She lies also on the historic route across the Andes by which San Martin entered Chile with the army that liberated that country from the Spanish dominion. ‘The railway now ascends by the valley of the Mendoza River over the barren wastes of the high Andes, which are here cursed by both drought and cold; and, passing through the summit at 10,600 feet, de- scends rapidly to the valley of the Acon- cagua River and the fertile plains of cen- tral Chile. In our excursions thus far we have traveled among the centers of the old Spanish settlements founded 300 years ago. Now let us turn to the south and southwest, to the country where the In- dians were dominant till within 30 years, where explorers now living have been held captive by them, or have been able to traverse the plateaus and mountains 135 only as companions of the roving Indian bands. Bahia Blanca is today a city of 70,000 inhabitants, with extensive wharves, huge wheat elevators, and various lines of rail- Ways converging to it. Yet as late as 1879 it was an outpost which was repeat- edly isolated from Buenos Aires by pow- erful Indian raids. Now the intervening pampa is all converted to private property and divided by wire fences. A POOR FROSPECT BECOMES A RICH INVEST- MENT When, in 1902, war over the question of the boundary in the Andes seemed im- minent between Argentina and Chile, it was felt that easy communication must be established between Buenos Aires and western Patagonia, where the disputed boundary lay, and the government gave the Great Southern Railway of Buenos Aires a very liberal concession to build a branch from Bahia Blanca westward up the valley of the Rio Negro as a strategic element of defense. The company undertook it unwillingly, for the country was considered a desert ; but the road has paid interest on its cost almost from the first year after its con- struction, and, being now extended be- yond the valley of the Rio Negro to a low pass in the Andes, it will ultimately form a transcontinental route which will connect Bahia Blanca with Concepcion. In the valley of the Rio Negro is a re- gion which, through the utilization of the waters of that great river for irrigation, is being converted into one of the garden spots of the Republic. The climate, which in temperature resembles that of our south Atlantic coast, the fertile soil, and the abundance of water, which will even- tually be brought under control, so as to minimize the effects of floods and the scarcity of the dry seasons, all combine to give this district a rich promise. At present it is still in the initial stages of de- velopment, lacking adequate organization of its industries and society and needing competitive development of means of communication with its markets. In this excursion to the valley of the Rio Negro we reach the southern limit of the connected Argentine railway sys- *(6€1 aBed 44x90} 99S) APO pjIoM oy} FO p4rds Tesoqy oy} Sor sousng ut ‘g]doad oy} JO Jo}OVIVYD OATVBAIOSUOD OY} [eWded URITIY 9Y} Ul J99f NOR “JuouBUoy oy} FO sodosjour ay} YWM AsQUNOD ][vWIs v JO TeYWdBI 9ATLAIIS -U0D IY} SV SoITY SOUIN Y}IAM s}ses}UOI 4] ‘eUIJUISIV JO SI Satry Sousng se Jo1SIP JUILS JY} UL JOU 4Nq ‘oI Jo AYO folyo oy} St OStIURS,, GNAOYDMOVA AHL NI SHONV FHL HIM “ILHO ‘OOVILNVS JO MHIA i ‘ \ SS x \ 4 . y+ \\ i i 136 AWAKENING OF ARGENTINA AND CHILE tem. We are on the northern borders of Patagonia, the synonym for remoteness and isolation. Yet within its confines are to be found immense sheep ranches, man- aged not only by Argentines, but the largest and best of them by Scotchmen and Australians, who direct the invest- ment of English capital. National rail- ways have been extended at government cost from several ports of the Atlantic coast into the interior, and when the wave of prosperity once more returns to Ar- gentina, as following the present depres- sion it soon will, Patagonia will invite still larger investments of capital and take rank among the growing territories of the Republic. A HIDDEN SWITZERLAND One is constantly surprised at the mag- nitude of the far southern country. Hid- den in the Andes of Patagonia and occu- pying but a small part of their great length is a country as large as Switzer- land—a region of beautiful lakes, forests, and snow-covered peaks, We have now spoken of southern Bra- zil and of Argentina. There remains of the temperate lands of South America only Chile, that longest and narrowest of all the countries of the world. Having a greater extent from north to south even than Argentina, it stretches 2,700 miles, from Cape Horn to the deserts of Ata- cama, within the tropics. Its width is rarely more than 125 miles from the ocean to the Andean crest. If we were to place it upon a similar stretch of coast in North America, it would cover Lower California, California, Oregon, Washing- ton, and British Columbia to the St. Elias district of Alaska. Chile is divided into three sections by the natural features of the Pacific slope of the Andes. The northern is that of the semi-arid and desert region, which reaches from Peru southward to Valpa- raiso. It is an utter desert in the north and becomes less inhospitable toward the south. It is traversed from the Andes to the coast by short, deep valleys, sepa- rated by high spurs of the mountains, and communication from north to south has always been exceedingly difficult. Nev- 137 ertheless, the Chilean engineers have found a route by which to extend the State railway which shall link Santiago with the territories conquered from Peru. THE HEART OF CHILE The central section extends through 9 degrees of latitude for a distance of about 600 miles from Valparaiso to the island of Chiloé, south of Puerto Montt. This is the heart of Chile, the only portion of the country which can support a suff- cient population to constitute a nation. The area is not large, about 100,000 square miles, and much of it is occupied by mountain ranges of great height and ruggedness. But between the Andes and the coast range there extends in this section a val- ley similar to that of California, which is the seat of the Chilean people. Many rivers rising in the Andes descend to it and meander more or less directly west- ward through the coast range of the Pa- cific; but the intervening divides are no- where of such altitude as to interrupt the continuity of the great valley that extends from north to south. Santiago is situ- ated at its northern end, and flourishing cities are located at each favorable point on the railway that connects the capital with Puerto Montt. The climate as we go from north to south becomes ever more humid, and we pass from the irrigated lands about San- tiago to the dense forest swamps of the southern portion of the district. While much of the land has been cleared or is ine Ee process MOL -cleariionsim ya estate which reminds one of our own Pacific coast 30 years ago, other areas remain impenetrable forests, still unexplored after nearly 400 years of occupation of the country. The third section of Chile, extending southward from Puerto Montt through 14 degrees of latitude to Cape Horn, is like our southern Alaskan coast—a stretch of islands and peninsulas broken by intricate channels and profound fiords that penetrate far into the land. Tumul- tuous rivers descend from the Andes and debouch into the fiords in swampy deltas which are covered with dense forests. dq} MOTIq SULT oY} oJoI1d T]IM pue SIITAA Aoqiveg Aq ydessojoyg Bee (ourre IT! Pas A 242 SHaNV : DAO 499} OOR‘E 3 ‘SuO] opIu v JauUN} & UT ssed I) Ae] ay} saoqe YSiy pozyeoo] oq [IM AvAIeI [eJUOUTUOOSULIY UOINdIUOD-voULT_ viyeg oy, OUNIN NOLVO XO XOd@ MOVIA AHL AO SSVd AHL AWAKENING OF ARGENTINA AND CHILE The large island of Chiloé, which was conquered by Valdivia before the middle of the sixteenth century, is well popu- lated and occupies a position with refer- ence to the more frequented northern coast similar to that which Vancouver Island holds to San Francisco. Farther south the population becomes very scanty, glaciers descended from the Andean heights, and the savage but majestic scenery of Smythe Channel and the Straits of Magellan suggest that of the inland passage and Lynn Canal of the Alaskan coast. SANTIAGO AND BUENOS AIRES Santiago is the chief city of Chile, but not in the same degree as Buenos Aires is of the Argentine Republic. Buenos Aires has become almost the Republic it- self, in the sense that Paris is France; but Santiago is but the capital of the country, which has other cities that may compare with it in local importance. Santiago contrasts with Buenos Aires as the conservative capital of a small coun- try with the metropolis of the continent. You feel in the Chilean capital the con- servative character of the people; in Buenos Aires the liberal spirit of the world city. The people who are developing the lands of South America, and in that de- velopment are themselves evolving spe- cial characters and new racial types, are those whom we loosely call Latin-Amer- icans. Their language is of the family of the Latin tongues, and that fact fixes in the public mind the relationship of the people among European nations ; but that is a very superficial estimate. If we call them Spanish-Americans and we consider what the Spaniards’ origin is, we shall come nearer knowing our neighbors. THE SPANIARD AN IRISHMAN FIRST The ancient Spaniard was a Celt be- fore he was conquered by Rome, and as a Celt he is represented today by the still distinct group of the Basques. The greater part of the Celtic tribes were less resistant. Five hundred years of Roman government and two hundred of domina- tion by the Visigoths, followed by eight centuries of Moorish influence, con- 159 sciously and unconsciously wrought changes in the people, evolving the spe- cial Spanish type. All of the races which entered into that type were more or less numerous and in- fluential in the development of the other people of Europe, except one. ‘The Moors constitute an element of the Span- ish blood which produced traits that are peculiar to the Spaniard among FEuro- pean peoples. In studying America we should not forget that the Moors main- tained their civilization in Spain up to the date of the discovery of America and influenced the character of the Spanish conquerors. ‘They represented that Ara- bic civilization which maintained learning and science during the dark ages of Eu- rope, and their daring courage, their im- petuosity, and their individualistic spirit have been transmitted to their remotest descendants. A MANY SIDED DESCENT A further fact relating to the origin of the Spanish- Americans, and one fre- quently cited by their own writers, is the mixing of the invaders and the aborigines in the colonial populations. Their writers tell us that the Indians who died under | the tyranny of the Spanish masters be- queathed to those masters half-breed sons and daughters to perpetuate the race. The mestizo, or half-breed, became a uni- versal and numerous element ; the criollo, or American-born child of European par- ents, the local and less common factor in the colonial population. Thus there sprang into existence the Spanish-American race, child of the Celt, the Roman, the Goth, the Moor, and the American Indian. His Spanish fathers were themselves variously characterized: the austere Basque, the arrogant Castil- ian, the impetuous Estremaduran, the facile and graceful Andalusian. And the Indian mothers were as unlike: the gentle Aztecs of Peru, the fierce Guarani of Paraguay, the sanguinary Puelche of the Pampas, the indomitable and independent Araucanian of Chile. Inheritance tells. The Spanish-Indian mestizo exhibits the diversity of his an- cestry. ‘To inheritance has been added the effect of local environment and isola- poyonoyun [J]38 Spuv] qsosoF FO Sojtur oienbs Jo spuvsnoy} Auvur ose o19y} “jIZvig ‘soqysiou sj FO sooimosos Joqui} oy} ssossod jou soeop vunuasay OTT. SHQNV UNILPNAOUV AHL NI OOPNVEA CNV HOA AO LSANOT STEM Aopteg Aq ydes8oj0yg AWAKENING OF ARGENTINA AND CHILE tion. A profoundly interesting field of research in human variation awaits the student of the race in evolution. In touching on this vast example of human evolution involving today 60,000,- 000 of people, we can glance only at some of the incidents related to the Argentine and Chilean nations. Both populations were well established before the close of the sixteenth century, but by very unlike elements. Valdivia and his successors, the invaders of Chile, were soldiers bent solely on conquest, such as they had taken part in in Peru, for immediate gain; the colonists who in successive expeditions founded Buenos Aires came with wives and children, with horses, mares, and im- plements of husbandry, to settle in the land. THE SPIRITED PRODUCT OF A RACIAL AMALGAMATION The warring invaders of Chile met and mingled with a warlike Indian race, the Araucanians, and their issue is without question the most independent, the bold- est, the most aggressive of South Ameri- can peoples. The merchant colonists who sought the Rio de la Plata maintained to a greater degree the purity of the European blood and have constantly been reinforced by fresh immigrations from all the nations of western Europe. They are today the most enterprising, as they are the most cosmopolitan and progressive, of the Spanish-Americans. During the first century of its exist- ence the colony of Buenos Aires was the victim of that monopolistic policy so char- acteristic of the individualistic Spanish tendencies. Although destined by geo- graphic situation and accessibility from both land and sea to be the commercial focus of the continent, the settlement was denied commercial intercourse. During half a century the shipment of cargoes to or from Buenos Aires was ab- solutely prohibited under penalty of death, and during the following 50 years traffic through the port was so restricted and burdened as to amount to prohibi- tion. Lima was the center of govern- ment and monopoly. All the produce of the continent destined to Spain was gath- 141 ered there and shipped via the Isthmus of Panama. Only articles of small bulk and high value could pay the freight charges and the imposts. ‘The heavy freight of hides, wheat, or wool could not move by that channel; and the pam- pas of Buenos Aires, producing nothing more valuable, shipped nothing. No more colossal example of misgoy- ernment, no more striking illustration of the incapacity of medieval Spain to gov- ern the colonies her soldiers had won, is to be found even in her annals. STATE'S RIGHTS IN THE ANTIPODES The northern cities—Cordova, ‘Tucu- man, Mendoza, and San Juan—were es- tablished by leaders from Lima and re- mained attached to that transmontane capital, through which their commerce flowed. They did not sympathize with Buenos Aires in her isolation; and, later, when independence from Spain had been won, when the Argentine Republic was struggling into existence, the civil wars were fought between the conservatives of the interior and the progressives of the coast. Something of the same division exists today. Cordova and Mendoza are intensely provincial; they are for States’ rights. Buenos Aires, grown immensely powerful and the seat of national govern- ment, emphasizes national control. The isolation of Buenos Aires and the pampas influenced the evolution of the Argentine people of the country outside of the cities in a striking degree. It helped to develop the Gaucho, the Argen- tine plainsman, whose natural evolution in adaptation to the environment of the pampas was intensified and accentuated by separation from the ameliorating ef- fects of intercourse and culture. The Gaucho sprang from the Spaniard and Indian. He was a nomad. His life of frugality, activity, and hazard favored the fittest and fiercest. He knew no law save that of might. He was independent, daring, familiar with violence, and care- less of life. Had he through a Spanish parent some Moorish strain, he repre- sented in the pampas his ancestors, who had galloped over the plains of Arabia. Sarmiento describes in graphic language the wild barbaric character and life of 142 the Gaucho and finds a likeness to Arabs he himself had known. THE CARRANZAS AND VILLAS OF A BYGONE GENERATION In the wars of independence, 1810- 1816, the Gaucho played an important part under-General San Martin and Gen- eral Belgrano; in the civil wars that fol- lowed he fought. under captains of more or less authority, such as Carranza, Villa, and Orozco are today; and in the tyrant Rosas, 1830-1852, he became the dictator over the lives and fortunes of the higher classes of society. It would be of interest in a study of Rosas to compare and contrast him with Diaz of Mexico, Guzman Blanco of Venezuela, Francia and Lopez of Para- guay, and many others of his kind, who represent the natural product of anarchy, the tyrannical “caudillo,” or chief; but in Argentine and Chilean history the tyrant belongs to a vanished past. Under the presidents who have suc- ceeded, from Mitre, in 1862, to Saenz Pena, in 1910, the government of the Re- public has been held by those who felt themselves entitled to rule by virtue of their education, intelligence, and ability. WHEN REPUBLICAN GOVERNMENT WILL DAWN Saenz Pena took the patriotic stand that he was president of the nation, not of a party only; he carried sound elec- tion laws and enforced them, with the re- sult that the administration was antago- nized, the congressional majority was dis- organized, and the law -making body was paralyzed by party strife, which is not yet ended. Meanwhile the radical and social- ist vote grows with each election, and may become a serious menace in a coun- try where there is no considerable middle class of conservative property owners— citizens between the wealthy land-owners and the peons. Immigration and the occupation of figment of THe NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE lands by the small farmer proprietor are means working toward the establishment of the middle class, without which so- called republican government in Argen- tina or elsewhere must always remain a reality. The government wisely seeks to promote immigration, and there are laws designed to favor the in- crease of small holdings, the principal one being the inheritance law, which tends toward the division of large estates. But immigration is not large. It is off- set by emigration, amounting, in I9QIT, 1912, and 1913, to about 50 per cent of the immigrants. And the net annual re- sult is an increase of only about 2 per cent in the population. Considering the great extent of territory, the small popu- lation, and the wealth of the nation, this is not a favorable showing. Spanish and Italian immigrants form about 80 per cent of the total, and entering, as many of them do; merely as laborers for the harvest season, they form an even larger. proportion of the emigrants. The attachment of these peasants to their homes in Spain and Italy is one rea- son for their return migration; but there is a deeper cause for emigration and for the crit net increase in population by immigration. There is no room in Ar- gentina, except in remote territories, for the man with small capital unless he is willing to remain a laborer. Liberal im- migration laws do not help him. His way to independence as a farmer is barred by the great landed proprietors. In Argentina, as in all other Spanish- American countries, the prevalence of great estates, the condition of the “lati- fundia,’ the old Roman curse, is the greatest obstacle to citizenship and good government. To pursue this topic would lead us too far afield; but it is pertinent to the contrasting of North and South America to remind ourselves that the Re- public is founded in that body of intelli- gent and independent citizens who own their homes. They alone govern steadily. VE Seng DiNsy WARDS OF THE UNITED STATES Notes on What Our Country is Doing for Santo Domingo, Nicaragua, and Haiti HE, island of Haiti, upon which are located the Black Republic of Haiti and the Mulatto Republic of Santo Domingo, is the scene today of two of the most interesting experiments in government that may be found anywhere in the world. After a century of effort to maintain itself as a separate, independent, sover- eign nation, Santo Domingo in 1905 found itself about to fall victim to its own excesses. Revolution had followed revolution almost with clocklike regu- larity. There were assassinations, there were betrayals, there were conspiracies, there were wars within and wars with- out—war with Haiti over boundary ques- tions and civil war over the control of the government. Debts were piled up with- out thought of the day of payment, or even provisions for meeting interest charges. Those who were in control of the government, whether for a day or for a year, were. more concerned about the money that could be abstracted from the national treasury than they were about the preservation of the national credit. So long and so steady was the orgy of revolution, speculation, debt-making, and interest-dodging that the nation’s credit grew worse than that of its individual citizens. Finally the day of reckoning came. Foreign warships approached the ports whose harbors had given refuge to the great discoverer Columbus, and whose capital city still contains what undoubt- edly are his ashes, and demanded that the claims of their ‘subjects be satisfied— claims for-money advanced, claims for interest accumulated, claims for property wantonly destroy ed—and they demanded it at the point of big naval guns. Ordinarily the Dominicans, like most of the other peoples of tropical America, dislike the Monroe Doctrine and view it as a reflection upon their strength. They think they are big enough to take care of themselves and look upon that interna- tional policy as one tending to interfere with their sovereignty. ANY PORT IN A STORM When Santo Domingo’s treasury was empty, however, its borrowing capacity at zero, and Europe at its door threaten- ing to take over its administration, and thus to collect its debts, no harbor ever looked more like a haven of refuge to a storm-tossed mariner than the Monroe Doctrine did to the Dominicans. In a hole from which they were powerless to extricate themselves, they were ready enough to negotiate a treaty turning over the control of the country’s customs to the United States if, in return therefor, the United States would protect them from angry European creditors and re- juvenate their treasury. And so it was that in 1905 the United States undertook to serve as treasurer of Santo Domingo and to vouch for her debts. Under the modus vivendi first, and then under the treaty, it was agreed by Santo Domingo that the United States should take over her customs-houses, put them under an American Receiver of Customs, and distribute the collections in certain proportions among the several necessities of the country. ‘First, the cost of the receivership should be met, not to exceed 5 per cent of the collections ; then $100,000 was to be paid monthly into the interest and sinking funds for the amorti- zation of the loan which had been made under the guarantee of the United States ; the remainder was to go to the Dominican Government, with the exception that when the revenues exceeded $3,000,000 a year one-half of the excess should go to the sinking fund. There was a provision in the agree- ment giving the United States some con- trol over the power of revenue legisla- tion. It was to be consulted when changes of the tariff laws were consid- . Photograph by Harriet Chalmers Adams THE TOMB OF COLUMBUS IN THE CATHEDRAL, OF SANTO DOMINGO CITY: SANTO DOMINGO When the Spaniards undertook to remove the ashes of the great discoverer from Santo Domingo to Havana, they apparently made a mistake and took the casket containing the bones of his son, Diego, instead; for later, when the cathedral was being remodeled, a leaden casket was found, the inscriptions on and in which tend conclusively to show that it contains Christopher Columbus’ ashes. The most painstaking care was taken to establish the identity of the casket found, and practically every unbiased investigator agrees with the historian of Columbus, John Boyd Thatcher, that his ashes repose in the Cathedral of Santo Domingo instead of at Sculla, Spain, as the Spaniards believe. 144 Photograph by Harriet Chalmers Adams RUINS OF THE DAYS OF COLUMBUS: CAPE ISABELLA, SANTO DOMINGO These are the ruins of the oldest surviving structure of the white man’s permanent occupa- tion of the New World ered, and the debt could not be increased without our consent. When the question of a revision of the tariff came up it. was urged by the Amer- ican authorities that the duties should be laid on luxuries rather than upon necesst- ties, upon the things of the rich rather than upon those of the poor. It was the other way around under the old régime. There was a high duty on cotton and a low one on silks, a heavy impost on beer and a light one on champagne. Rice bore a heavy duty and sardines in oil next to none. A NEW TARIFF POLICY Under the revision supervised by the United States all this was changed. ‘The tariff, as a whole, was cut down, and necessities were admitted at low rates and luxuries at high ones. ‘The general re- duction was 50 per cent on export taxes and 14 per cent on import duties. And yet, in spite of this great reduc- tion, in spite of payments of $1,200,000 a year on the debt, there was still left a greater net income for the use of the government than it had ever had before. AN ASTOUNDING PERFORMANCE! Not only that, but, under the law which entitled him to 5 per cent for the expense of collections, the receiver wa able to reduce the costs to such a point that in seven years he turned into the Dominican treasury $200,000. It was astounding to the Dominicans that any one should turn into the treasury the sav- ings of an economical administration. For a long time it was thought that, deprived of the opportunity of securing customs-house revenues through the seiz- ure of ports, revolutions could not sup- port themselves. But after six or seven years of peace, during which unprece- dented strides of progress were made, trouble broke out again, and during 1914 and 1915 it became so serious that the United States was forced to intervene in behalf of peace and to demand, with ma- rines on shore and naval guns trained and pointed on the ports, that the country re- , ‘soourAoid Usd}saM S,eqnd FO [IOS [NJIapuoM day} saop se JULISCIF SV JsSOUTe Fray ve sonpord spur] Osoeqo} Ss} pue ‘eqny usojsva JO asoyy [PALI Spue] Tesns s}~ “pyloM oy} UT sortjUNOD JSOYII 9Y} FO 9uo Ay[vinyeu st OSurmod oyurg OINIWOG OLNVS :- NMOL OL ODDVAOL FO SNOOWHO INIAWIVO 146 Photograph by Harriet Chalmers Adams GATEWAY TO THE CITY OF SANTO DOMINGO Near the river gate is a sturdy ruin, made up of two square towers joined by a central block. time when it was “the magnifical and princelyke house” turn to a state of quiet. And so today the Dominicans, realizing that the Mon- roe Doctrine is determined to afford them protection from their own excesses, their - own bitter passions and blind purposes, have accepted the inevitable and have se- cured the blessings of peace from with- out when they could not attain that end themselves. It is a reluctant acquiescence they yield, but a wholesome one, none the less. It has not been without effort or with- out expense, nor yet without the actual sacrifice of blood and life that our coun- try has stepped in to play the role of Good Samaritan to the peoples of Santo Do- mingo, Haiti, and Nicaragua, who had lost the blessings of peace and were un- able to regain them. In Haiti alone we lost one officer and six marines and hada number wounded. How much in money it has cost has not been ascertained offi- cially, but the usual estimate is that it costs $1,000 a year to support an Ameri- can soldier in the tropics, and thousands of them have been sent down there. Of 147 Black and roofless, in spite of the squalor of its surroundings, it still proclaims the of Ch ristopher Columbus. course, the bulk of this would have been spent whether such help was rendered or not, for the Marine Corps is maintained even though it sees no active service. OUR COUNTRY’S COLONIAL ACHIEVEMENTS But out of it is growing results of which a nation which covets no territory, which seeks only its own security and the welfare of its unfortunate neighbors, may well be proud. In Porto Rico we have reduced the death rate from 45 per 1,000 to 19 per 1,000, and a beginning along the same lines is being made in these new fields of American altruistic endeavor. In Porto Rico wages have increased from 16 cents to 75 cents, and stable conditions show encouraging results in the same direction in our new ward lands. In Porto Rico the school attendance jumped from 20 per cent to more than 85, and these new wards are trying to follow in Porto Rico’s path. 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OY} O} SUOTIBOYIAOF plo IY} WoOIJ—AZND JUSOUe dy} JO SUINI oy} PU JopuLM PUL OSUTUTOG] OJULG FISIA 0} 90U AIO OONINOG OLNVS :@IIOM MUN MEL NI INOd LSiato wEHL suepy SIowyeyD jolivyy Aq ydeis , 66» SH. {v 1 oY aia EBRD YIM WOT, 95 M O10 ULY} SURITIOLUY 4 i= NOH,, IO z AVM ‘1 y 0} oom dtaodxo LV véAod yor oy} u OUTUSIS [I (<=) SUTVUTIOSI odn poyir 2IL1OYSIY ‘IIIDAOISIC, JWOD) IY} FO Guo}, oY} O} PUL PPIOA, MON oy} Ur YM yp. quo AOUL INYO VuO}S A Se ayy The inhabitants of Santo Domingo City well may be a proud people. of Ober: Photograph by Harriet Chalmers Adams ON THEIR WAY FROM SCHOOL: SANTO DOMINGO CITY, SANTO DOMINGO For, in the words “What other city of America can boast as its one-time citizens a ereat discoverer like Columbus, a fifteenth century humanitarian like Las Casas, a monster of depravity like Ovando, and a quartette of conquerors like Velasquez, who subjugated Cuba; Cortez, who conquered Mexico; Balboa, the explorer of Darien, discoverer of the Pacific, and Pizarro, who stole the treasures of Peru?” Santo Domingo, Porto Rico, Nicaragua, the Philippines, or Haiti, the welfare of the people has been her first concern; and while all colonial history shows that the tares of evil are never absent from the wheat of good, our nation’s record of help given where most needed is one that well may challenge our admiration and quicken our patriotism. The success in Santo Domingan cus- toms administration and debt amortiza- tion led to another experiment along the same line a few years later. Nicaragua became revolution-torn, resulting in the overthrow of Zelaya and the conversion of the country from an unspeakable des- potism into one of ruinous anarchy. Rival factions issued fiat money as freely as tap water flows from a spigot. The treasury was bankrupt, interest was in I5I default, foreign creditors were threaten- ing through their governments to collect their debts with gunboats and cruisers, and there was not enough money to be had by the party in power even to pay salaries, much less soldiers’ wages. HELPING NICARAGUA ESCAPE THE THROES OF CHRONIC REVOLUTION In its insecure tenure under these con- ditions, the party in power was only too willing to save itself, and incidentally the country, by appealing to the United States and by offering to make itself an instrumentality in American hands for the rejuvenation of the nation. The United States accepted the opportunity, and a treaty was entered into giving this country control of Nicaraguan finances and the right to intervene in the interest OFFICERS OF THE HAITIAN ARMY ON THE STREETS OF PORT AU PRINCE, HAITI The army officers of Haiti were as fond-of gold lace as a mountain girl.of bright colors. Small wonder, then, that the regalia of a field marshal was everywhere in evidence. ‘Times have changed, however, and now the American marine in quiet khaki takes the place of the Haitian fire-eater and his resplendent costumes. Photographs by Mrs. C. R. Miller HAITIAN SOLDIERS CARRYING COFFEE TO THE WHARF IN ORDER TO GET SOMETHING TO BAT The pay of a Haitian soldier was small at best, nothing at worst, and at all times insuf- ficient to keep the warrior fed decently. The days for loading coffee on departing ships were great days in Haiti. They were days when the army got a square meal. i) on to sn DI IVD $ Oca ne THE ENTRANCE TO A SO-CALLED VAUDOUX TEMPLE: HAITI Every authority on Haiti agrees that vaudoux, or voodoo, worship exists there, and that it is probably a survival of African fetichism. It is agreed by all authorities that now and then in the frenzy of the snake dances the worshipers refuse to be content with anything less than a sacrifice of the “goat without horns”’—a living child. When one of the recent. presidents of the Republic was assassinated, he carried the emblems of vaudouxism next to his heart, showing that the cult has existed even in the highest places. THE FISH MARKET: PORT AU PRINCE, ATT Situated in a region famous for its fine fish, among them the delectable and plentiful “red snapper,” the Haitians eat quantities of salt-cod from Massachusetts waters; and the quality of this imported staple is such as would not find favor in American markets. 154 STREET SCENE: SANTO DOMINGO CITY, pe oullain spite of it-all) ing cities in these waters. Photograph by Harriet Chalmers Adams THE CAPITAL, Santo Domingo remains one of the most fascinating and inspir- To walk through its highways and its alleys is to turn over the pages of an old missal illumined with faded gilt and precious colors, the incense- perfumed leaves of which are patched with shreds of gutter jours and interbound with gaudy prints, ballad sheets, and play bills of peace during the life of the compact. Controlling the finances after the Santo Domingan plan, the United States ar- ranged a new loan, most of it to be spent _ in refunding the debts of Nicaragua and the remainder in making certain internal improvements necessary to the progress of the country. Here, again, the plan worked beauti- fully as long as hydra-headed revolution remained under--cover. ‘Trouble broke out again, however, and only the presence of American marines has served to keep the peace. The “outs” are bitterly against the role being played by the United States; but Nicaragua is being rejuve- nated, in spite of every handicap that their state of mind entails. This rejuvenation consists in the plac- ing of the country on a stable financial basis, both with respect to foreign credit and internal investments, the lowering of the death rate through sanitary work, the extension of education through the open- ing of new schools, and the development of the country through financial arrange- ments for the construction of a railroad See ES. from the west to the east coast, the dredg- ing of the rivers, etc. That this all amounts to armed inter- vention no one can deny. But both in Santo Domingo and Nicaragua the step was taken because necessity impelled it. Unless the United States was to be forced to abandon the Monroe Doctrine, it had either to deprive other countries of their remedies or else intervene itself. But it was and is an intervention only to discharge our international duty to the countries of Europe under the Monroe Doctrine and to rescue the countries in which we intervened from this hopeless morass of perpetual bloodshed and their people from the quicksands of unending riot. If conditions were bad in Santo Do- mingo when the United States undertook to help the country back to peace and prosperity, they were worse in Nicaragua when we assumed the role of ouardian. But even in Nicaragua they were mild indeed as compared with those obtaining in Haiti when our country finally stepped in there. posopuer udeq dAvy [JIM o[dood JuoroIpuL UL O} 9dTAJOS o}UYUT UL ‘sorqto spt dn uvap> nq asfo Suryjou soop WIePT 19A0 9}v10}99}01d UvdTIOWY OY} FT ILIVH “Id#WOVL NI Laas V JON “A 'D “SAW Aq ydessoxoyg 150 j [Bays IO ‘MOIIOd “Goq P]NOD JOIP[OS dy} 9sJo JOAIJLYM Pure “SUOT JOoF 9914} IO OMY ALLIS OULd-1eSNs BV JO PoySISUOD SUOTVI UOSstivr “qof yop V JOU svM JUOWOAOW ,.JOYJOIG SIq,, ULoLIOUIW oY} d40foq Sep oy} UT soplse URIeLL oy} Surpoo yt Ni € WIG@IOS NVILIVE TIVOIdAL TPT ALO “SA Aq ydvasojoy z 157 AMONG THE MOUNTAINS OF THE BLACK REPUBLIC While most of the territory of Haiti is covered with a jungle growth of bewildering density, there are many mountain sides which are brown and bare, the result of centuries of erosion. ; Photograph by Harriet Chalmers Adams THE STRONGHOLD OF CHRISTOPHE “To hours further back in the hills stands the stupendous castle erected by the King as a retreat when the French should come to avenge his murdered masters. They never came, having had enough of Haiti; but there Christophe immured himself behind walls twenty feet in thickness and a hundred feet in height, in the long galleries and on the parapets mounting more than three hundred cannon, most of which may be seen today. Here at last died the great black king, self-slaughtered by a silver. bullet driven into his brain.’”—ObeEr. CONDITIONS UNBELIEVABLY BAD Conditions always have been unbeliev- ably bad in that Republic. To begin with, it is a place where black rules white, where the Caucasian is referred to as the “blanc,” just as we refer to the “negro.” Froude, whose verdict agrees with those of Sir Frederick Treves, who lived in the island ; Sir Spencer St. John, who was for 15 years British Minister there, and F. A. Ober, who spent the best part of two decades studying the islands of the Caribbean, says of the Haitians: “They speak French still; they are nominally Catholics still; and the tags and rags of the gold lace of French civilization con- tinue to cling about their institutions. But in the heart of them has revived the old idolatry of the Gold Coast, and in the villages of the interior, where they are out of sight and can follow their instincts, they sacrifice children in the -serpent’s honor after the manner of their fore- fathers.” Sir Spencer St. John adds to this the statement: “I have traveled in almost every quarter of the globe, and I may say that, taken as a whole, there is no finer island than that of Santo Domingo— Haiti. No country possesses greater ca- pabilities, or a better geographical posi- tion, more variety of soil, of climate, and of production, with magnificent scenery of every description, and hillsides where the pleasantest of health resorts might be established, and yet it is now the country to be most avoided, ruined as it is by a succession of self-seeking politicians, without honesty or patriotism, content to let the people sink to the condition of an African tribe, that their own selfish pas- sions may be gratified.” F. A. Ober, commenting upon the story of the country written by Sir Spencer, 159 ‘oy doystsy)—Soarys JO Su OY} JO JYSIop JO suopsavs oy} pue oIVD MOY} AA sre g oy} 990 seM yey} AIOTS on} JO syURUWIOI [nyons out o1e soot} jeordo.y JO opour} ve pue suInI pojeprdeyiq ‘“sioyearypno ojdus Fo sjny oy} pur sued yjim popyursds punosse30} e@ puv jso10j JO Dum onssoud B YUM GOTTA VPA JOAo] ot} aAoqe S]]IY Ol} UL poyenpS St ddYIpo s[quyswwet sty y, AH dOLSIMHO Ad J/1In@ Tonos SNVS JO HOW IVd AW, suvpy StoWpeyD Jorssiezy Aq ydess0j04q 160 ‘S}UOWOVeYS IjuoyNe ATJUatedde 0} Surpsossv ‘Aue ULTFIVET oY} UL Voth UVY] STOOYJO ITOUL ITIM ITO OUT} DUO JV “JoOoTS OY} UO YOO! 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Juonhoyo JI Spuos IVEY Jy} osoy} sv spvot YONS JOAO ST 4 163 . % - y & : ® i } $ { | j THE PRESIDENT AND STAFF, Seas g s would it have been more difficult for him to corrupt his keepers or to escape, and he spent three and a half years as a pris- oner in the suburb of Kalamaria. REMOVING THE EX-SULTAN The outbreak of the Balkan War, in the autumn of 1912, made it advisable for the ex-sultan to be removed to Constan- tinople. He was most unwilling to re- turn, however, and was only persuaded to do so by an emissary of the German ambassador, who took him through the Greek blockade in the dispatch boat of the embassy. A few weeks later the Greek army en- tered the city, followed closely by a smaller detachment of Bulgarians. The final treaty of peace, signed at Bucharest in 1913, adjudicated Saloniki, with the remainder. of the Chalcidice and their strategic hinterland, to Greece. But it is apparently written that Saloniki shall never long enjoy the blessings of peace. At all events, an army of the Allies, as we know, is now eritrenched there. And he Photograph from Brown Brothers SEA WASHING OVER INTO THE MAIN STREET OF SALONIKI Barrels from lighters washed ashore. Traffic suspended. is a bolder prophet than I who will fore- tell what may yet lie in store for the people of Saloniki. There is another aspect of Saloniki which is scarcely less involved in dark- ness and controversy, but which leads us away from too dangerous ground and offers a perhaps welcome escape from the harassing questions of the present. It is not surprising that so venerable a city should contain most interesting relics of its past. What is more surprising is that these should be so little known to the world at large. AMERICAN STREET-CARS ROMAN RASS ARCHES UNDER The oldest and most accessible of the antiquities of Saloniki is the long Street of the Vardar, slitting the town in two at the foot of the hill. This street is a seg- ment of the old Roman highway from the Adriatic to the Bosphorus, which earlier still was the Royal Way of the Macedonian kings (see page 213). The street is not particularly imposing, SUIP[ING 10}}2] 9Y} FO Oprs sty} UO UMOYS SI WIeISOUOUT [LUOTILU ULIAIIG ot], IMINOIVS :SWAIYVNAOdGVAH UWA, SV SNVIAWHS GNV HONG WAL AG GISn “WAT GVVIGHW WI HHL LV ONIGIING AHL GUSSIN ANNO SUOLVIAV AHL HOINM AG AONVASIG LYONS MHL ONIMOHS “INVa@ GIMOWIM V TO MAIA V DOIAIOG WY] [VUOLeUAOJUT CO) 210 and as you watch the khaki soldiers kick up its dust today, there is little to remind you of the Janissaries of yesterday, the cohorts of Belisarius, the Roman legions, the phalanxes of Alexander, or Xerxes and his Immortals. Still, you may play fancifully enough with the centuries, as American electric cars, driven by a mod- ern Greek, a Spanish Jew, or haply some stranded Turk, clang back and forth under the Roman arch that spans the Street of the Vardar near its eastern end. The bas-reliefs about the bases of this arch are so blurred that archzologists long disagreed as to its precise date. But a train of camels distinguishable among them and the name of the river Tigris have sufficed to identify the monument as a triumphal arch of Galerius. In A. D. 296 Diocletian ordered him from the Danube to the Tigris to meet the invad- ing Persians (see page 214). Galerius was beaten and only saved his own life by swimming the Euphrates. But the next year he returned to Meso- potamia and wiped out his disgrace by Photograph by Paul Thompson GREEK CATHOLIC PRIESTS, FRENCH AND SERVIAN OFFICERS, AND MACEDONIAN CITIZENS IN COSMOPOLITAN SALONIKI destroying the army of the Persian king. The walls of Saloniki were long a more visible memento of her past. During the last generation, however, they have grad- ually been disappearing. The sea wall was naturally the first to go, followed by the lower part of the land wall on both sides. Sultan Abd-ul-Hamid II causeda modern boulevard to be laid out on the site of the old fortifications to the east, where the city has overflowed into the suburb of Kalamaria, little suspecting that he would ever live to see his handi- work or hear it renamed after that strange beast, the Constitution. THE WHITE TOWER He was wise enough to spare the great round tower at the angle of the two walls, which is the chief ornament of the water front. The White Tower, surrounded by a smaller crenellated wall of its own and four bartizan turrets, is compara- tively modern, being the work of Sulei- man the Magnificent (see page 219). But the greater part of these old de- Photograph by Paul Thompson A SALONIKI CROWD GATHER TO SEE THE FRENCH MINISTER AT ATHENS LEAVE A CONFERENCE The English hotel, the American street-car, and the French automobile proclaim the influence of the Modern West in the New East fenses date from the fourth century of our era, when Theodosius the Great took pains that Saloniki should not suffer the fate of Adrianople at the hands of the Goths. The walls of Saloniki are thus older than the more famous walls of Constantinople, which were built by the grandson of Theodosius. A year or two before their final de- parture from Saloniki the Turks set about destroying the remaining fortifica- tions on the heights behind the town. The acropolis of the Macedonian city was here, and several fragments of the origi- nal Greek masonry remain. In Byzan- tine times the citadel was called the pen- tepyrgion, the five towers, from an inner circle of walls and towers that defend it. They contain many interesting mono- grams and inscriptions. Saloniki possesses numerous other relics of archzeological interest. The vis- itor is continually discovering fragments ho tS) of antiquity —a pre-Christian tomb turned into a fountain, the stylobate of a statue carrying a street lamp, an intricate Byzantine carving set into a wall, a bro- ken sarcophagus. SALONIKI’S CHURCHES But the finest remains of the ancient city are its churches. How they ever sur- vived the tempests of the Middle Ages is a miracle. Nevertheless they did, twenty- two of them. And there they stand to- day, turned back into churches after their five hundred years of use as mosques, illustrating the story of Byzantine eccle- siastical architecture even more beauti- fully, in certain ways, than those of Con- stantinople. Moreover, they make up be- tween them a museum of the lost Byzan- tine art of mosaic, unrivaled save in Con- stantinople and Ravenna. The oldest of these churches, and after the arch of Galerius the most ancient Mawel pe 2 OS : Photograph by Frederick Moore THE STREET OF THE VARDAR: SALONIKI (SEE PAGE 209) Fi. = Os ee ee, Photograph by Frederick Moore THE ARCH OF GALERIUS ON THE STREET OF THE VARDAR, IN SALONIKI, GREECE The arch is Roman, the driver, mayhap, is a Spanish Jew, and its passengers are Greek and Turk, Jew and Gentile, bond and free; for it is a congress of nations that gathers in Saloniki and the gamut of human conditions that its people run. 214 Photograph by F. J. Koch THE TURKISH CANDY SELLER: SALONIKI There is no law requiring the screening of food in Saloniki, and the traveler here, as well as elsewhere in southeastern Europe, wonders how many hundred million germs are sold with every sale of street-side sweetmeats. monument in the city, is St. George. During the long Turkish period it was the mosque of Hortaji Stileiman Effendi. St. George is unlike any other church in Saloniki or Constantinople, in that it is of circular form (see page 220). Its design, more characteristic of Italy than of the Levant, reminds us that Sa- loniki was more directly under Italian influence than under that of Constanti- nople, and that until the eighth century the city was, in religious matters, subject to Rome. The exterior of the church has no great effect and the dome 1s masked by a false roof. The interior is more imposing. The immensely thick walls contain eight vaulted recesses. Two of these are entrances, while a third, cut- ting through the full height of the wall, leads into the apse. The barrel vaulting of the recesses is encrusted with mosaics of great antiquity. DID ROSI KNOW HOW TO SPELL? Having begun to drop into ruin, these mosaics were handed’ over, some years iS) 4 OL since, to a restorer, who painted in what he lacked the means to replace. He also had the courage to sign his name, Rosi, to the result, causing the present witness of his infamies to question whether he even knew how to spell. His imitations, however, and the fragments of original mosaic give an idea of the invention and decorative sense that covered those ceil- ings with birds, flowers, and linear de- signs in blue and green and gold. The dome of the church contains the finest mosaic in Saloniki and one of the finest in the world. The Roman, the pre- Christian air of St. George, is emphasized again in that series of classic-looking per- sonages and buildings, divided architect- urally into eight parts, corresponding to the eight openings below, but united by a mosaic balustrade that seems to guard the spring of the dome. At one point of the balustrade a peacock perches, his tail drooping magnificently toward the spec- tator. Not the least interesting of the churches of Salonikiis St. Sophia. Like its greater e pue ‘Iseuoyy 0} pity} & DIOOJ YoIapetyy Aq ydeisojoyg ‘ eruedl Vy ajdounuejsuoy pseMo} YINOFT EZWAOIP OF NYSE) BIA JOYyOUR feIAIDS ‘YSIN 0} SuTUUNI 9UO—sPvOI]IeI INOF FO SMUTUNIO} oY} ST TYIUOTLS IMINOTVS JO STIVM HHL 16 Photograph by Frederick Moore A GATEWAY IN THE CITY WALLS: SALONIKI 217 " eS Photograph by P. Zepdji THE CHURCH OF ST. SOPHIA BEFORE ITS RESTORATION IN IQIO: SALONIKI Until its last destruction by fire, in 1891, St. Sophia was one of the few Byzantine churches Jiectrea att a Be preserving its original atrium (see page 219) lo va) “he noe pre . Photograph by H. G. Dwight THE WHITE TOWER, BUILT BY SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT (SEE PAGE 211) homonym in Constantinople, it is a domed basilica, and it was long considered to be a provincial copy of that great original. As a matter of fact, the Saloniki church is the original, having been built a hun- dred years or more the earlier, at the end of the fourth or the beginning of the fifth century (see picture, page 218). For the student of Byzantine archi- tecture, therefore, it has a place of its own, as being a tentative solution of problems which Justinian’s cathedral was so triumphantly to surmount. The church has suffered disastrously by fire, earthquake, and restoration. But the original lines of the structure remain, the pillars and beautiful capitals of wind-blown acanthus, and two fine fragments of mosaic. In the vault of the bema is a gold cross inscribed in a circle, on a rich blue-green ground, while the golden semi-dome of the apse contains a seated Virgin and child—of the eighth century. The principal mosaic, an As- cension, with decorative green trees be- tween the standing figures, lines the great dome. It is supposed to date from 645, though the figure of Christ in the center is older still. SOME TURKS TOLERANT I first saw these interesting mosaics while Saloniki was still a Turkish town. And it struck me as confirming in the Saloniki Turk, leader in the movement of his country toward western civilization, a tolerance less characteristic of his Asi- atic brother—that decorations contraven- ing every canon of orthodox Moham- medanism should remain to offend the eyes of the faithful. There are more Mosaics tO be Sseent in the laroernsot. Sophia of Constantinople, but none of them represent human forms or orna- ment the central parts of the structure. This impression, repeated in St. George, was strengthened by the Cathe- dral of St. Demetrius. That five-aisled basilica, dating from the beginning of the fifth century, although restored and en- larged in the seventh, is the largest and best preserved of the Saloniki churches, as well as one of the finest structures of its type in existence. 219 EES CEU RCE IOE: Sil: Ee H. G. Dwight Photograph by GEORGE, KNOWN IN THE TURKISH PERIOD AS THE MOSQUE OF HORTAJI SULEIMAN EFFENDI “Tts design, more characteristic of Italy than of the Levant, reminds us that Saloniki was more directly under Italian influence than under that of Constantinople, and that until the eighth century the city was, in religious matters, subject to Rome” (see text, page 215). Although pillaged at the time of the Turkish conquest, it fortunately fell into the hands of the Mevlevi, more popularly known as the Whirling Dervishes, who are among the most tolerant of Moham- medans. ALL MEN BROTHERS The dervish who showed me about, on the occasion of my first visit, pointed out that the figures objectionable from a Turkish point of view had merely been covered with a curtain, adding that all men were brothers, and that mosques and churches alike were the houses of God. st. Demetrius, at any rate, still con- tains much interesting and beautiful deco- rative detail. There are superb verd- antique columns on either side of the nave, their early Byzantine capitals are of great variety, and the spandrels of the arches are ornamented with charming de- signs of inlaid marble. There is also a good deal of mosaic in the aisles and the bema, the oldest being that of the north wall. It dates from the seventh century, though some of it has been retouched. In spite of its early period the basilica has an oddly baroque air. This is chiefly due to an imitation of a cornice on a flat surface of variegated marble. And in one place the veined marble of the walls, sawn in thin sections from the same block, is so arranged as to simulate drapery. In a dark chamber opening out of the narthex is shown what purports to be the tomb of St. Demetrius himself. But the real shrine was despoiled at the time of the Turkish conquest, and existed in an- other part of the cathedral. SALONIKI ra PATRON OF THE HUSBANDMEN A place like Saloniki might have sug- gested to Heine his fancy of gods in ex- ile. St. Demetrius is not merely the suc- cessor of Aphrodite and the Cabiri in the prayers of the Thessalonians. He is, by some strange turn of fortune, the true heir of Pelasgian Demeter. As such, he is the patron of husbandmen throughout the Greek world, and his name day, No- vember 8 (or October 26, old style), marks. for Greeks and Turks alike the beginning of winter—as the day of his associate St. George, upon whom has fallen the mantle of Apollo, marks the beginning of summer. Whether the Greek St. Demetrius and the Turkish Kassim be one and the same, this is not the place to inquire. But their fete day is the same, and the Cathedral - of St. Demetrius was called by the Turks the Kassimieh. In any case, the good people of Saloniki, whether Christian or Mohammedan, must have found it highly significant that the Greek army of 1912 entered their city on the name day of their patron saint. UNREALIZED OPPORTUNITIES Many cities that can boast so much in the way of interesting antiquities have survived themselves. They live only in the memory of what they have been. But not so Saloniki. She is too much in- terested in what she 1s and in what she is going to be to think very much about her past. So little indeed has she yet taken in, as the remainder of Europe has so profitably done, the possibilities of a past, that I was unable to find there a map of the city. And as I went from shop to shop in search of photographs of the churches I was followed by an officer looking vainly for a Baedeker. Imagine—in a town where one may live quite as comfortably as in Siena or Verona, and where there is quite as much to see! Somebody had told me that Saloniki was rather like Genoa. My first impres- sion, therefore, was of a disappointing flatness, not in the least comparable to the lofty air—the piled, bastioned, heaven- scaling air—of the Italian city. Yet Sa- loniki scales heaven; too, in her more discreet manner. And there is even something faintly Italian about her. This is most palpable on the broad quay of the water front, especially when a veritable row of fish- ermen from the Adriatic are drying nets or sails under the sea wall, just as they do in Venice. Thé crescent of white buildings facing the blue bay would not look foreign in any Rimini or Spezzia. The White Tower, which is the most conspicuous of them, might perfectly have been the work of an Italian prince. Indeed, a Doge of Venice is said to have built the first edition of it, and Stileiman the Magnificent employed Venetian ma- sons for his own. A GREEK “MOVIE” THEATER A “splendid palace” opens florid gates of hospitality there. A skating rink and a cinematograph offer their own more exotic attractions to the passer-by. Cafés abound, overflowing onto the awninged sidewalk. Electric trams clang back and forth in proud consciousness of the fact that they existed when imperial Constan- tinople was yet innocent of such mod- ernities. They take you around the eastern horn of the bay to the trim white suburb of Kalamaria, where consuls and other nota- bles of Saloniki live, and where Sultan Abd-ul-Hamid IT spent nearly four bitter years in the Italian Villa Allattini, look- ing out at the provincial capital which he and Nero both embellished in their day. On the opposite horn of the crescent is the Latin-enough park of Besh Chinar— Five Plane Trees—where it is good to sip coffee and listen to music in the cool of the day. And if you did not know that greater prize and ornament of Saloniki for Olympus, the true Thessalian Olympus of Greek legend, you might easily imag- ine it to be some white Alp or Apennine looming magnificently across the bay. Look a little closer, however, and this Italian appearing town has unfamiliar details. The white campanili that every- where prick up above the roofs of weath- ered red are too slender and too pointed TURKISH ILOUSES This picturesque bridge, color-washed in red, and frescoed in quaint landscapes, % Photograph by H. G. Dwight IN SALONIKI leads from the mansion of its owner to his garden across the street for true bell towers. at the quay you perc cars Then, as you land eive that the electric are labeled in strange alphabets. The cafés do not look quite as they should, either. A COSMOPOLITAN ASPECT As for the people in them, a good many would pass without question. Just such slight and trim young men in Italy would sit at little tables on the sidewalk. Just such young women, rather pale and pow- dered as to complexion, rather dusky as to eyes and hair, would sit beside them. And you hear a good deal of Italian. But you hear more of other and less to bo familiar languages. And those red fezzes are a new note. So are those more numerous hay-colored uniforms that sat at no caffe in my Italian days A more striking note is afforded by numerous dignified old gentlemen taking their ease in bath-robes, as it were, slit a little up the side and tied about the waist with a gay silk girdle. Over the bath- robe they usually wear a long, open coat lined with yellow fur, which cuards them from the cold in winter and in summer from the heat. And none of them is without a string of beads, preferably of amber, dangling from his hand and giv- ing him something to play with. Such an old gentle- man should be accompa- nied by an old lady, who contributes what is most characteristic to the local color of Saloniki. The foundation of her cos- tume is a petticoat of some dark silk, and a white bodice crossed be- low her throat—a very thin bodice, cut very low at «the neck, and very palpably unstiffened by any such mail as western women arm themselves with. WHERE THE CAMERA FAILED Over this substructure the old lady wears a dark satin bolero lined with fur and two striped silk aprons—one before and one behind. The latter is caught up on one side, some corner of it being apparently tucked into a mysterious pocket. But the crown and glory of the old lady is a head- dress which I despair of describing. I wouldn't have to 1f the old ladies of Saloniki had not formed a_ conspiracy against me or thrown over me some incantation that put my wiles to nought. For though I shadowed them by the hour, camera as inconspicuously as pos- sible in hand; though I lay in wait for them behind corners and snapped at them as they passed, I never succeeded in prop- erly potting one of them. Therefore I can only affirm that they wore on their heads, pointing down toward their noses, an invention that looked to me like the pork-pie hat of Victorian portraits—if such a name be not too abhorrent to those particular old ladies. The Saloniki specimen is no true hat, however. It seems to be a sort of flat frame, tightly wound about with a stamped or embroidered handkerchief and crowned with an oval gilt plaque set 223 Photograph by H. G. Dwight A BIT OF OLD SALONIKI off by seed pearls. Whatever its color, this creation invariably ends in a fringed tail of dark green silk, also ornamented by a gilt or gold plaque of seed pearls, hanging half way down the old lady’s back. In this wonderful tail the old lady keeps her hair, of which you see not a scrap, unless at the temples. And about her bare throat she wears strings and strings of more seed pearls. A MOTHER OF MANY She is, this decorative, this often ex- tremely handsome old lady, a mother in Israel. The old gentleman in the gaber- dine is her legitimate consort, while many of the modernized young people at the café tables are their descendants—very many. A dozen different estimates of Photograph by Zepdji A GROUP OF BULGARIANS IN SALONIKI One sees everywhere in this Greek metropolis reminders of the centuries during which Turkey ruled in Saloniki. Only the latest maps show Saloniki as a part of Greece, for it was only during the first Balkan War that the region of which it is the center became Greek territory. the population were given me, varying according to the race of my informant; but they all agreed on the point that Sa- loniki contains not far from 150,000 peo- ple, and that more than half of them are Jews. There is also a considerable Moslem population of Hebrew origin, mainly de- scended from the followers of Sabatai Levi, of Smyrna, a would-be Messiah of the seventeenth century, who created a great stir in this part of the world, and who, being at last offered his choice be- tween death and Islam, elected the latter. Several of the Young Turk leaders be- long to these Dénmeh, as they are called, or Those Who Turned. They are still looked upon a little askance by the ortho- dox of both confessions. Altogether the Jews of Saloniki are more than a mere piece of local color. They hold their heads up as do their co- religionists in no other city in Europe— down to the very boatmen in the harbor. Photograph by Frederick Moore GREEK WOMEN OF DRAMA, NEAR THE BULGARIAN BORDER “Tt is not surprising that a city so admirably placed, whether for defense or for communica- tion Pleasant, hearty-looking fellows the last are, too; fair-haired, many of them, and blue-eyed. The language of these chil- dren of Abraham is a corrupt Spanish. The fathers of most of them were driven out of Spain in the fifteenth century by Ferdinand and Isabella. Long before that, however, St. Paul mentioned a syn- agogue in the city of the Thessalonians. PICTURESQUE COSTUMES PASS AND SCHOOLS ARE FILLED I could not help regretting that the younger generation should renounce its picturesque heritage of costume. Yet I was told that the change had entailed the happiest results for Saloniki; had made a dirty medieval town cleaner and more comfortable than any other in its neigh- borhood; had filled shops and banks and schools. And it played in the greater iS) UL should long have been known to men” (see text, page 205) 5S pag J domain of the Turkish revolution a part that has yet to be recorded. Between the quay and the Street of the Vardar lies the New Jerusalem of this energetic population. The seaward part of it is a Latin-looking and Greek- speaking quarter for which Saloniki cherishes considerable tenderness. I pre- ferred, myself, such portions of it as have not yet been Haussmannized, or Midhatized. For Midhat Pasha, father of the Turkish Constitution, was many years ago Governor General of Saloniki, and he left his mark in streets of uncom- mon straightness for the Levant. Between them alleys of sharp light and shade meander under broad eaves, and glimpses of pleasant courts and loggias are to be caught through open doors. There also congregate many at the re- ceipt of custom, the more favored of YStxy4 ny, 2) {] Ur UauO ‘I{[pdoZ “I M Oe e) (gz ased 4x0} 998) Ujouwos pue “ —syoeq ay} 4Jyo VINVdWYV) SUOIYSET UeH[e_ JO UOlzqIYXa djajduiod & JOO Anq 0} Jue M TOs x yey} Sollaploiquis UL UOUIOM AHI, WOW STUID LNVSVAd MAID ‘ourwop “SJOIU I 2) J 2), ] url U OOM “S}JeY UL UdUIOAA,, lle. Bag: AIRES en a elueq;y JO owuiNjysOD oY} UT possoip UsWIOM jURseod URlIeSs—ng IMINOTIVS NI SNVINOGHOVIV TPPA\SSOTY °S “ET Aq ydessojoyg VINVAG LV SNVINVOTING TO SNOIIVUHNAD OMT dIOOJ HOtsapasry Aq ydessojoyg mecnssammets sy 4 © ete LO RRR ‘ap, : N Photograph by Frederick Moore . REFRESHMENTS IN SALONIKI “As I listened to Mr. Black Eyebrow, looking about me at the red fezzes, the white skull- caps, the fur robes, and all the other variants of the Saloniki scene why the equilibrium of races in Macedonia is so difficult to bring about” understand (see text, page 232). them in roofed or awninged thorough- fares, into which the A*gean sunlight picturesquely drips. A CONGRESS OF NATIONS Little is Latin there. To loiter among the booths of the bazaar, to explore the busy squares and markets beyond it, to stroll in the crowded Street of the Var- dar, or to idle among the coffee-houses of its western end, is to take in something of the Macedonian question. Fur robes and green pigtails are only incidents among many. Sedate red fezzes come and go. Tall Albanians, variously braided ac- cording to their tribes and wearing a white skull-cap on one ear, stalk through the crowd with that lordly swing of theirs. Bulgarians, less lordly, but no less in- different to the opinion of the world at large, mind their own business in brown home-spun. Kilted Greek peasants in tight white trousers tasseled under the I began to knee, booted Montenegrins with hanging sleeves, lend the scene an operatic air. Women in hats, women in kerchiefs, women in embroideries that you want to buy off their backs—and sometimes do !— women in the Turkish domino, offer a complete exhibition of Balkan fashions. Beyond the Street of the Vardar the Turkish quarter begins. Saloniki is nat- urally less of a Turkish town than it was, when the Turks stood second and the Greeks third in the roll of the local babel. 3ut while they have now changed places the fez still adds a very appreciable note to the color of Saloniki. While Jews and Christians, too, live in this part of the city, the higher you climb the better you might imagine yourself to be in Stamboul. There are more stone houses, and some of them are unfamil- jarly frescoed on the outside. The win- dows, though, are latticed, as they should be. There is a good deal of decorative iron work about them. Si Photograph by Frederick Moore THE BUTCHER: SALONIKI “Saloniki is naturally less of a Turkish town than it was when the Turks stood second and the Greeks third in the roll of local babel. But while they have now changed places, the fez still adds a very appreciable note to the color of Saloniki” (see text, page 228). LISTENING TO A NATURALIZED GRAMOPHONE Upper stories lean out toward each other on curved wooden brackets. Sten- ciled under broad eaves, or hung there like a picture in a frame, is an Arabic in- vocation: “O Protector!’ “O Proprietor of all Property!” Occasionally you pass a building like a mosque without a min- aret, whose domes are studded with glass bulls’ eyes and within whose doorways lounge half-nude figures in striped to- gas—a Turkish bath. And you keep dis- covering little squares where a plane tree or two make shadow, where water is sure to trickle, and where grave persons sit on rush-bottomed stools, sipping coffee, tno smoking water-pipes, and listening it may be to a naturalized gramophone. At the tiptop of “the! hilliyou.are stopped by the old walls, whose crenella- tions print themselves so decoratively across the sky as you look up. the long streets from below. Or at least it was so the last time I mounted to that Castel- laccio of this Levantine Genoa. Even then, however, unsentimental crowbars were at work in that ancient masonry. Through the resultant breaches you look northward into a bare country that dips and mounts again to a farther background of heights. One reason why the country is so bare is perhaps that it was so long cut off from the city by the (zzz assed ‘jxo}] 99S) (d[P4ls HIS AVS v YIM pot} pue opis oy} dn opqi] B WS ‘atom P sv ‘soqoiy}eq UI 9Sed Il9y} Suze} UswWo[jues pjO poylusip sno1 IMINOIVS JO ALIO HHL NI SMal aIOOJ YAspety Aq ydessojoyg aunu 9y} Aq papszoye St {t) seen 9}OU SUIYIIS 910Ur we _ - = ote Seal - ae oe — sear —— Photograph by Frederick Moore STREET BARBERS IN THE TURKISH QUARTER “And you keep discovering little squares where a plane tree or two make shadow, where water is sure to trickle, and where grave persons sit on rush-bottomed stools, sipping coffee, smoking water-pipes, and listening, it may be, to a naturalized gramophone” (see text, page 220). et tt A ROIS ery Photograph by H. G. Dwight A SCENE IN THE VEGETABLE MARKET: SALONIKI 231 232 walls. It is, of course, well for the town that it should have room to grow, as for the country that it should be reclaimed from the abomination of desolation. But, being an irresponsible and senti- mental tourist, I was sorry to see those old stones dislodged. I was sorry, too, for the storks. They congregate so pic- turesquely among the battlements of Yent Kapou that one wishes Saloniki might take a tardy lesson from Florence and save at least her gates. THE VIEW REMAINS However, no one can ever take away the view, and that is the best reason for climbing to this storied hilltop. They say that. Xerxes of Persia, to whom. blue water was a rare enough sight, sat here long and admired the spectacle of the underlying gulf, set jewel-lke between its hills, with Olympus towering white at the end of the vista. If he did, I think better of him than he otherwise deserves. I also highly ap- prove the taste of the Turks in preferring this part of Saloniki. Its hanging coffee- houses are not so popular, to be sure, as those of Besh Chinar, the quay, or the Street of the Vardar. Yet one of them I remember better than any other in the town. Under its plane trees I had the pleasure of hearing a certain famous Turkish singer. The famous singer was called Kara “Kash Effendi, otherwise Mr. Black Eyebrow. Mr. Black Eyebrow sat in a small krosk, surrounded by a chosen company of players on lutes and tambourines, who attended respectfully the descent upon their master of the divine afflatus. When the divine afflatus descended, Mr. Black Eyebrow put his hand to his cheek, as Turkish singers do—I know not whether crescendo—and to aid their strange TH NATIONAL €hOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE poured forth the melancholy of his heart in a manner which most westerners pro- fess to find laughable. Whereby they prove again that what we like is what we are used to, and that few be they capable of taking in a new impression. For myself, having long been used to such singing, I could have listened all day to the melancholy of the heart of Mr. Black Eyebrow. It seemed to form a singular medium of twilight, in which the imagination played easily as a bat. SO THE PERSIANS MUST. HAVE SUNG So I thought the Persians must have sung down there in ancient Therma, as they gathered for their march to Ther- mopyle. So sang, perhaps, the Moors | in Spain. And so the Janissaries sang when they had driven the lion of St. Mark out of that blue bay. As I listened to Mr. Black Eyebrow, looking about me at the red fezzes, the white skullcaps, the fur robes, and all the other variants of the Saloniki scene, I suddenly realized for the first time in my life why it is that a macédoine ina French bill of fare is a dish with a little of everything in? its And) I becanmito understand, what no outsider can in his own country, why the equilibrium of races in Macedonia 1s so difficult to bring about, and why any final equilibrium must necessarily be in part an artificial one. I could not help hoping that that particular macédome has been served for the last time. At any rate, no one can deny that the Greeks have an older claim to Saloniki than any one else. Yet I could not help feeling a little sorry for Mr. Black Eye- brow and appreciating that not without reason did he pour forth melancholy from his heart. Autochrome by Franklin Price Knott AN ARAB BLACKSMITH Except for his multi-colored turban, this strong-visaged native of Sfax, Southern Tunisia, looks as if he might have posed for one of Rembrandt’s immortal masterpieces. From father to son the blacksmith’s occupation is handed down, each leaving to his successor the heritage of a reputation for skilful workmanship, even though his implements be primitive and his wage meager. Autochrome by Franklin Price Knott A SHY KABYLE BEAUTY There would seem to be no feminine reason why this picturesque young woman in her brilliant costume should object to standing as a model before the color camera, but she, like the other girls in the neighborhood of Michelet, Tunisia, eluded the artist for many days. As fleet of foot as a gazelle, she would have made her escape had not the Mother Superior of the Government hospital persuaded her to pose for the stranger, which she did with uncon- scious grace. Autochrome by Ifranklin Price Knott A LAMB’S WOOL BOA So closely attached to his flock is the shepherd of the ast that when necessity compels him to select one of the number for the market, he “‘tempers the wind to the shorn lamb’’ by carrying the victim about his neck instead of driving it before him to slaughter. This tawny native of Tunisia has the thoughtful countenance of a Moorish philosopher of the days when ranada was the center of culture in Western Europe. Autochrome by Franklin Price Knott A DANCER OF ALGIERS With richly spangled jacket, jeweled headdress, voluminous scarlet trousers, and gold- encircled ankles, the dancer is a more fascinating figure for the color artist than for the motion picture photographer, and as a still study requires no censorship. Autochrome by Franklin Price Knott A SUDANESE AND HIS RACING CAMEL While not so rare as the white elephant or the white rhinoceros, white camels are a novelty to American eyes for they seldom find their way into circus caravans. This clipper-rigged ‘“‘ship of the desert’’ and his swarthy skipper were photographed near El Djem, in southern Tunisia. A hundred miles a day is not an extraordinary distance feat for the mehari, as the racing camel is called. Autochrome by Franklin Price Knott WHEN AGE COMES ON IN ALGERIA The women of the Kabyle tribe, living in the Djurdjura Mountains, Northern Algeria, chow the footprints of time early in life, as do the native women in all tropical climes and especially among semi-civilized peoples. This burden-bearer is a picture of poverty. Autochrome by Franklin Price Knott A CARROT PEDDLER AND HIS PACK BEARER Master and beast in a Tunis street appear the personification of lassitude. The peddler is as oblivious of the colorful beauty of the Moorish column in the background as is the donkey of the juicy provender on its back. ‘91doad uMo Ife} JO ssoyUNY suNzI0j Sunod oy} Suoure siojins 1a8vo Puy s19q} PUL Iq11} ITO} JO S}U9} BY} O} UANjor ued AoT]} ‘passvure AIMOp YIM ‘uy Aep oy} Surusjsey Aqosoy} ‘SuUMO] ULTIESTV Jo STeEzeq OT} UE STOOULP SU Ayroedeo Suruiva IY} Sasvosout ustUIOpe [euosied yons asnevoeq jnq Arouy Jo dAOT If9y} YSnosy} A]UO jou s}uUTeUIO Surs}YS pue souimnysoo yuer[I4q Jooye o1oyorsdiay, JO SeaJOAOp JAosoep Vso], STIVN GHTNO HHL FO STAIN ONIONVG OU dd UlYyULI Aq swro1yoojny ‘guo0}s ur AuoyqdwiAs e& ‘ojqieur ur wa0d e—Ajynvaq jo [NOs A19A 9} SUIVVS }T eI jo puey oy} Aq pazeoso P]IOA oq} JO S1apUOA 9} [Te JO pue suonen wd pojzzep sey yt sivoh poipuny 9014} JO =, _PAATIOUOD 9zuOIq UI pue s{qIeIN UT poursemr “Usayis ul pemeaip ‘pos ur yySsnoy},, pey ueyef yeys jr se st yy “ourryo AIQA9 JO sjaod jo ssamod aANdriosep 9q} popyeq ‘est’] eUOy, 21} jo I[IUS I[GLJNASUL 9Y} OAT] ‘AVY ‘JIA O}TIOAV} sy] JO ATO JT]} OF jojadiua uesed v jo JUSUINUOW sty} Jo Atoms pue 90e13 JUSpUsISULI} OTL, VIGNI ‘VUOV ‘IVHVN [VL Aa A ‘doys 1oj}uedivo v jo AVA\I0O) a} SI osnoy-seyoo pastAoiduit 9q} ginjord ay} UT ‘shou jo osuPYOXs uv puL dis jotsq & 10J YSnous Suc] pepusdsns srt y1OM Avp aij} SursMp syeaAsoyur juonboly JY ‘}UL[NUITS [eIDOs B SB sornf-odeids UvolIoWy 94} PUB BO} Yst[suyy oy} syuevjddns sayoo YSTyIN, SMOOSTA }JSOUT[Y “YOTY} oy} VISTUNY, UT NVMOUIVA NI HHATOD NOONYHLAV JJouy ed UIPAUeIy Aq smo1yoojnNy ‘poods Surusd.U0d SMP] OYFeIL dY} SULIoptsuoo A]JWOpLAD St OAL ONUTJOI OY} JO JOJSLIM JaqUIOS 94} OS JON ‘BATT OF OTA. ur sovyd snodof v p[1OM dy} puy O} Wes TYJaq{ JO S19} YSuep asoy} ‘soypliq ssou jo suvomt Aq pops oie YOrYM ‘UaxO a}yTYM Ajayeys Aq UMeIP puL ‘ssuTids UAapOOM YIM VOTYsA potdouvd sty} UL ps9}vIG AVOIXVL IVINAIYO NV piel cgrtie a Autochrome by Franklin Price Knott THE TOWER OF JEWELS A blaze of coruscant splendor at night anda graceful pinnacle of rainbow tints by day, this structure was the color climax of the Panama-Pacific Exposition. In the foreground is a carpet of riotous hues from Nature’s flower loom, which weaves more brilliantly and luxuriantly in California’s sunshine than under any other skies. The musical play of many fountains de- lighted the ear while the eye feasted upon the beauties so abundantly realized by architect and landscape gardener. ‘“9uINN}SOo Tdoy] word Ay vB SULLIM ST OOdUBN ‘SaT}TTVUD orjoyysa sv [JOA sv wistjoqurAs Snorer v SAVY YOIYM SUSISIP JO 9S AY] UT pdyONAYSUT AT]NJoivo useq BART OY ‘sid YSnep Joy YSuNoIy, poy Musuvs, oq 0} st uonesooap orures99 JO} JES JOY NG “puryq Ajivau Mou ‘s9yvI Asoyjod rdoyy snourey ayy ‘oaduen SE STU, Halal YWHH AO LSILUV LSHLVAUD AHL WOU dUI_ uUrpyuesryy Aq suo1yooiny PRA a oe TE I Stoeger PTR _ PUSHING. Autochrome by Franklin Price Knott HER HOME 1S VOLENDAM, HOLLAND And the face of this Dutch girl reflects efficiency, sturdiness and thrift, qualities which make the women of her country among the best housewives 1n the world. So quaint are the costumes of the fisher-folk of this village that a colony of English and Dutch painters has been established here, and artist models are as numerous as the inhabitants. On Sundays the na- tives are seen in their most striking attire. Autochrome by Franklin Price Knott A MASTER’S MODEL Franz Hals would have made this Dutchman immortal by transferring to enduring canvas his striking features, quizzical and highly individual. His bearskin cap, vivid neckerchiet and flaming blouse would tax the skill of any master of pigments who tried to reproduce them with the fidelity and freshness which have been accomplished here by the allied arts of natural color photography and color-printing, ¢¢ PULT[OF] UL sIayYMoIOG,, Jeuvd onbsoinjord sty} Jopsoq YSIYM sd6e}j09 JuLrenb sy} Ul Surptses aso jo Ayusjd puv sovod ay} pusdap sjusurels ay} Jo espa -[Mouy Jiay] vod =‘pnoid aq pynom neaing [eorso[O1os}oU OYTJUeTOS Aue YOryA jo AoviNOOv UL YIM [NO] IO JoY}VIM ATL} JOIpeid 0} pauses] 9AvY S10] IVs yond Ayrvay ay} ‘YJvd oy} JO voR} dy} UO uv|aD0 AIDAD UT \Nq LIS YON at} Jo si9jeM JdaMs-i10O}s dy} UO ATUO JOU Yeap Surovy ATJUL}SuOD SLHHd0OUd WHHLVAM Wouy 2:1 ulpyuesy Aq swo1yoojny : t THE HOARY MONASTERIES OF MT. ATHOS By H. G. Dwicut Sea from the mainiand of Chal- cidice, in northeastern Greece, like the prongs of a trident, are three peninsulas. They leave the mainland some forty miles southeast of Saloniki and look as though they might be the fork with which Neptune planned to throw the island of Chios, on the Smyrna coast, out of the sea. ‘The easternmost of these peninsulas is that of Athos, named from the great terminal peak which rises like a pyramid out of the sea at its A’gean end. The peninsula is about forty miles long, varying in width from four to seven miles, and it is entirely owned and controlled by a group of mo- nastic communities, which govern it under a republican system (see map, page 271). Mt. Athos chose to make its first ap- pearance to us in the melodramatic light of a midnight moon—a pale pyramid looming vaguely above a high black ridge, where a few lamps glimmered far apart. Such a light was needed to lend interest to Daphne, the port of the penin- sula. In the less romantic clarity of a March morning it appeared a dingy little hamlet enough, consisting of a custom- house, a postoffice, an inn, and the quar- ters of the few residents so unfortunate as to be stationed there. | tn out into the A*gean WHERE NO WOMAN MAY TREAD in normal times of peace a weekly Russian steamer and occasional Greek ones constitute the sole incidents of their lives, deprived, as they are—shall I say of what is for other men the great inter- est of life? For I must reveal to you, O feminists, suffragists, suffragettes, and ladies militant of the western world, that here is a stronghold secure against your attacks. To put it more plainly, an ancient law forbids any female creature to set foot on the soil of the Sacred Mount. As one might expect, of course, in a world in- habited by descendants of Five, that law has been broken. ‘There are legends of inquisitive empresses who were miracu- lously prevented, at the door, from defil- ing certain monasteries by their intrusion. There are other legends of monasteries subjected to fasting, humility, and purifi- cation by reason of some such uninvited guest. Moreover, a monk confessed to me in whispers that during the terror of the Greek War of Independence his mother spent several months in asylum at the monastery of St. Paul. And I have seen water-colors of several of the monasteries painted by Miss Canning, daughter of the famous British Ambassador, Lord Strat- ford de Redcliffe, who boldly accompa- nied her father to Mt. Athos in the uni- form of a midshipman of the Royal Navy. But no such blinking of the law is possible to an inn-keeper or unhappy officer of customs. Even the furred and feathered colo- nists of Mt. Athos are supposed to leave their harems at home. Neither cow nor hen wakens the echoes of the monastic community, and the monks’ kitchens are supplied with milk, butter, and eggs from their distant farms on the mainland. ‘The dispiriting effects of celibacy are nowhere so visible as among the army of tomcats that haunt the cloisters. I must confess, however, that I more than once had rea- son to suspect a shameless bayadére of a tabby of having secretly stolen across the border. And our mules had not borne us far from barren Daphne before we perceived other indications that the monks had not altogether succeeded in eradicating the eternal feminine from their midst. We presently turned from the rocky seashore into a gorge with a stone bridge at the bottom of it and a waterfall hanging half way from the top, where birds called so cozeningly to each other that I can never believe only bachelor birds were there. “SPRING WILL BE SPRING” Then as we zigzagged up a roughly paved trail that looked from a distance THE MONASTERY OF IVIRON: Athos. Iviron was founded in the tenth century, later restored and enlarged by a Georgian prince; ; Photograph by H. G. Dwight MT. ATHOS, GREECE Iviron disputes with Vatopéthi the honor of being the second oldest monastery on Mt. under the Empress Theophano. It was hence the name, for the Georgians of the Caucasus were known to the Greeks as the Iberians. like a coil of rope dropped at random on the mountain side, up and up past ter- raced olive trees, past a white monastery looking pleasantly at the sea from a high green ° shelf, past ‘reaches of budding wood, to a dip on top of the ridge, we came upon great shrubs and _ fair-sized trees of holly, so plenteously burdened with big red berries that the monks should have destroyed them, root and branch, had they properly studied their botanies. We also saw blossoming heather, broom, violets, anemones, spikes of classic aspho- del, and I know not how many other proofs that spring will be spring in spite of all the monks in the world. And amid them all two great crosses stood black on either lip of the hollow against a far-away sea. So we dropped at last, through what must once have been a magnificent wood, to the village of Karyés. Karyés, otherwise The Walnuts, is the capital of the community. It les just under the crest of the peninsula, about midway of its long eastern slope. An ignorant newcomer runs fresh risk of in- curring displeasure, even when he has left his wife behind; for in the streets of this other-worldly capital may no man ride, smoke, sing, or otherwise comport himself in too self-satisfied a manner. Dismounting, accordingly, at a stone block provided for that purpose, we had the more leisure to admire Karyés—its crooked alleys, its broad eaves, its om- nipresent crosses, its running water, its hanging gardens, its sudden visions of white-capped Athos or the underlying blue of the A‘gean, and its grave, bearded black-gowned inhabitants, with uncut hair tucked under black stove- -pipes; true stove-pipes they were, too, having neither Photograph by H. G. Dwight THE MONASTERY OF PANTOKRATOR: MT. ATHOS, GREECE This small but picturesque monastery, standing near the edge of the sea on the east side of the peninsula, enjoys a wide view of the A’gean and of the peak of Athos. Founded in the fourteenth century, it is the seventh of the monasteries in point of age. the brim of the West nor the upper flare of the Greek clergy (see page 270). Not all the inhabitants were gowned, however. Some wore white Albanian ballet skirts, tasseled garters below a tight white knee, and a pompon at the turned- up tip of each red slipper. These, we learned, were members of a local pre- torian guard. Others were less amply kilted or trousered in different degrees of bagginess; and not a few looked as prosaic as ourselves. WHERE VISITOR IS GUEST Our muleteer was a little surprised that we preferred to put up at an inn instead of at one of the monastic establishments in the suburbs of Karyés. ‘The reason of his surprise lay in the fact that for many travelers the true beauty of a pilgrimage to Mt. Athos is that not only do you lay up credit for yourself on high, but that you do it for next to nothing. Any one belonging to the worse half of humanity may visit the monasteries and be gratui- bo Loar tously entertained so long as he cares to Stay. So many avail themselves of this hos- pitable privilege, however, that there are degrees in the welcome extended by the monks. It, tor instance... the: jpilorim bring a letter from known ecclesiastical authorities, he will receive more consid- eration, and may even receive money for his own purposes or for others commend- ed to the generosity of the fathers. We were not happy enough to possess a letter of that particular kind; but we did bring a letter from the highest of all ecclesiastt- cal authorities in the Greek world, namely, the Patriarch of Constantinople. In theory, therefore, we were entitled to the best the monasteries had to offer and transportation from one to another by mule or boat. For ourselves, we found this scheme of things more embarrassing than otherwise, and in most cases it either increased the expense of our sojourn or caused us unwillingly to hasten our de- parture. soyiu ov SIM G ‘souly JO So9A09 pue sjo[ut dy} JO 9SOL y. ry) “Aq ydessoj0yg I ITUOTeS WOIy } uvy} Surmaeys pur pnyJso1 o10ur sodeoseas Moy puv onbsosnjord os0ul HOTA “SOHLV “LIN : NOHdJONUX AO AWALSVNOW WCHL sadvospur], Moz aie ato J ‘soywiid UsdVIVg Aq JUANG pues poyoVs SLA BT ZOQ UT ‘AroyseuoUl OY} PIPMO} SUOTPLJOUSG AULUT YM UONIpeAy yeooy Aq Popol St ‘oUOIY} IY} SuUNUNOW J9}ZV ‘FposuIYy Ssnipvory ‘shipeoty uos Sunod sty JO ‘Avg iyjodojeA ul ‘ouluMOsp Worf; advosa snoNoesIW oY} 104 OPHIHLAS UT Jot dy} sntsoposyy, Aq posirpua pur jInqor se YOM ‘OU! JUL}SUO,) yo A19\SeUOUL 24} Pesodjsop savy O} pres st ojeysody oy} urviyn{ yeas) oy} ouyurysuoy so1Iduyy oy} Aq popunof} sem Tyjodo}eA ‘Spuasoy [eoO] 0} Surpsosxy ‘aUOU 0} PUOoddS pinsuiued 94} UO ddUoN_UT ue 4 WOUHID “SOHLV ‘LIN /INVAdOLVA JO AVALSVNOW (HL WSIM 5) PH Aq ydessojoyg THE MAIN STREET OF KARYES: MT. “Karyés, otherwise the Walnuts, is the capital of the community. crest of the peninsula. — a Photograph by H. G. Dwight ATHOS, GREECE It lies just under the An ignorant newcomer runs fresh risk of incurring displeasure even when he has left his wife behind; for in this other-worldly capital may no man ride, smoke, sing, or otherwise comport himself in too self-satisfied a manner” (see text, page 250). But we made it our first duty in Karyés to deliver our credentials, very sound- ingly worded and wound about with a long strip of paper stuck to the flap of the envelope, to the Most Blessed As- sembly of the Sacred Mount, whose ad- dress it bore. OLDER The Most Blessed Assembly of the Sacred Mount—or, more briefly, the Kinotis—is a very interesting body. Mt. Athos has always enjoyed special privi- leges, whether under Byzantine emperors, Turkish sultans, or its present suzerain the King of Greece ; and the monasteries have always ruled their own peninsula. Of these there are now twenty, and they administer their common affairs through a parliament even more venerable, I be- lieve, than Westminster. Each monastery annually elects a representative to this THAN WESTMINSTER On parliament, who occupies at Karyés a house belonging to his abbey. These houses preserve the memory of the long Turkish régime, in that they are known by the Turkish name of konadk— mansion. Always roomy and _ substan- tial, and sometimes handsome, they and the gardens in which they stand add not a little to the appearance of the diminu- tive capital. In addition to the Kinotis, which is a deliberative, legislative, and judiciary assembly, there is a smaller executive council of five, called the Epis- tasia. ‘The members of this smaller coun- cil may or may not be members of the Kinoétis, being elected by groups of four monasteries for a term of five years. The parliament house of Karyés is not a very imposing structure, but it makes a picturesque group in the center of the town, with the cathedral of the commu- ON THE RIGHT IS THE GUEST HOUSE OF VATOPETHI: According to Riley, whose book, “Athos the Mount of the Monks,” is an authority, Photograph by H. G. Dwight ATHOS, GREECE MT. more than 250 tons of grapes are made into wine at the Vatopéthi Monastery annually, and each monk and servant gets a daily allowance of wine. nity and the square old tower beside it. Far more imposing was the pretorian guardsman, who stood at the gate. Four of these, we later learned, are attached to the service of parliament, while a larger standing army of: 20 men, called serdars, scour the lonely trails of the peninsula. THE ETIQUETTE OF THE TRAY Having sent in our letter by the hand of the white-kilted warrior, we presently had the honor to “be received: by the Council of Five, in a long, bare room al- most entirely surrounded by a low divan. Two of the councilors spoke French, it appeared, which comforted us not a little in discharging the formidable compli- ments of the occasion. Then, while the secretary prepared the circular, which we were to have in exchange for our patri- archal missive, one of the guardsmen ap- OL peared before us with a tray. Its be- wildering multiplicity of spoons, saucers, glasses, and refreshments presented well- nigh insoluble problems. I am not sure that we solved them with perfect cor- rectness then; but since we never paid a visit on Mt. Athos without meeting the counterpart of that tray, | am now pre- pared to expound its etiquette to any prospective traveler in the Levant. You choose a spoon; you dip it into a jar of preserves; you put it into your mouth and turn it gracefully over, in order to lose nothing of its sweetness; you drop it into a glass of water provided for that purpose; you drink a little water from another glass; you raise a third glass, containing a heady liqueur, with as handsome a speech to the company as your knowledge of strange tongues will devise; you drink—if you choose—more water, and you end with a cup of Turk- THE KITCHEN OF THE GUEST HOUSE AT Covel, who also seems to have made his pilgrimage during Lent, says ‘ “They gave us Limpets there thrice as big as oures in England, and yellow, Photograph by H. G. Dwight MT. ATHOS, GREECE VATOPETHI: of this kitchen: all cover’d with a fat yellow mosse, ae they eat either alone or with oyl.” ish coffee, which you sip as noisily as possible in order to express your appre- ciation of it. A WELL-SEALED INTRODUCTION Upon this ceremony followed that of sealing our circular. Each of four coun- cilors produced a quarter of the seal, while the fifth, the secretary, locked them into a handle in his own possession. Our letter was then formally stamped, the re- sultant image of the Virgin was sanded in the good “old w ay, and we were ready to begin the more serious part of our pilgrimage. First, however, one of the French- speaking councilors very courteously of- fered to show us the sights of Karyés. Chief among these was ‘the neighboring cathedral, know non the peninsula as the Protaton. It is a cruciform church of the tenth or eleventh century, containing a famous icon of the Virgin and deco- rated with some of the most interesting Byzantine frescoes that remain. Whether they were or were not painted, as the monks affirm, by the half-mythic Athon- ite master, Pansélinos, who flourished at the end of the fifteenth or the beginning of the sixteenth century, it is not for me to say. But they certainly preserve the tradition of another time. A St. John in particular, painted so high on the wall that I could not photograph it properly, recalls the noble Byzantine mosaics of Cefalt. Our venerable guide also took us to visit the small monastery of Koutlou- mousi, on the outskirts of Karyés, where the problem of spoons and glasses was again presented to us. And we encoun- tered it a third time in the councilor’s own konak, a big, bare, clean house com- manding magnificent views of mountain and sea. He furthermore insisted that we should move our traps there from the Photograph by H. G. Dwight A VIEW OF VATOPETHI: MT. ATHOS, GREECE Some idea of the extent of this monastery may be gathered from the statement that it covers four acres, contains sixteen churches, large and small, and has so many buildings that it resembles a fortified town. rather grubby little establishment—half shop, half inn—where we had deposited them. A LESS FORMAL SOCIETY We were happy to accept the hospi- tality of this kind and intelligent father, who showed us many other courtesies during the course of our pilgrimage, and who interested me the more because he happened to be an Albanian. But truth compels me to add that I also returned with pleasure, more than once, to that same inn. Perhaps it was because our pilgrimage fell in Lent, when monks fast more strictly than laymen. Perhaps it was because I have a leaning toward low company. At all events, quite as characteristic as the more formal society to which our letter introduced us, I found the society at the inn, where shopkeepers, muleteers, laborers from monastery farms, pilgrims of the poorer sort, hermits, itinerant monks, and other wanderers gathered daily and nightly in the public room or in the court of flower-pots and budding vines behind it. We had had interesting glimpses of two or three monasteries and had become acquainted with a number of their in- mates; but it remained for us to have our first real taste of monastic life at Vatopéthi. I write the name _hesitat- ingly, knowing that my choice of letters will not please the more learned of my readers. No monk, however, would have any idea what ycu meant if you spoke of Batopedion. I therefore persist in at- tempting to convey the local pronuncia- tion, which accents the penult and hard- ens the th. A MEMORABLE JOURNEY Not the least memorable part of the experience was the journey from Karyés, which we performed by mule in some three hours. The trail—for so narrow ANIBHY (CHAO “When the representatives finally dismounted from their gaily caparisoned mules there was a universal embracin kilted escort burned more powder. text, page 267). and stony a road was never meant for wheels —led us almost all the way through lonely woods that were just be- ginning to be aware of spring, first slani- ing up the steep backbone of the penin- sula and giving us romantic views of the ANgean and certain gray monastery tow- ers at its edge; then winding down a long amphitheatrical slope to the bay, where Vatopéthi stood like a medieval castle. Its distant air of grimness changed as we came down through the olive yards compassing it about. Windows pierced the upper part of the massive stone walls and high balconies leaned out on curved bo on Photograph by H. G. Dwight TOWER OF VATOPETHI: MT. ATHOS, GREECE hen, as the the court, the bells of the clock tower pealed their welcome” (see wooden corbels. Sub- stantial outbuildings were scattered pictur- esquely among trees, their old slate roofs tinged with yellow lichen and tipped with GEOSSES, Wine. gary mountain water flashed past us in or- derly little stone ca- nals. ‘The very mules we met had an air of muldness, well - being, and dignified superi- ority to their bony brethren from Karyés, which was not unnat- ural of mules belong- ing to one of the old- est, largest, richest, and most interesting monasteries on Mt. Athos. Before the great gate, on an irregular stone bridge above a noisy mill-race, stood a cupola which shel- ters an icon of the Virgin. Here all who pass in or out stop and cross themselves ; and here the gate- keeper shook hands with us, took our cir- cular letter, and rever- ently kissed its seal. Then we were induct- ed through a vaulted passage guarded by two more massive gates into the interior court of the mon- astery. I could have spent the rest of the af- ternoon in this wide irregular sloping place, overlooked by open galleries, where a domed church, a white bell-tower, and sundry smaller buildings were set down at random among orange and poplar trees. But we were shown up an outside stair, roofed with slate, to the guest- house. The old gentleman in charge thereof, in a rusty black gown and a brown felt fool’s-cap, made us welcome in his own room, served us the refresh- ments of rigor, and finally took us to a ~ o => while the white- fathers entered Photograph by H. G. Dwight A CLOISTER AT VATOPETHI: MT. ATHOS, GREECE “The cells of the monks are big, clean, bare apartments, furnished chiefly with endless sofas. spiritual sons” (see text, page 263). wide marble corridor—with a delightful balcony at the end—out of which opened the guest-rooms of state. EATING THE OCTOPUS We owed it to the size and prosperity of Vatopéthi that ours was furnished alla franca. It contained, that is, two iron beds arranged like sofas, a monumental stove of brick and plaster, and an electric bell. Toilet arrangements it had none, these being situated in the hall outside and consisting of a tap set over a small marble basin without a stopper. The room had, however, a very superior view across a sluice of quick water, an orange garden, and a collection of lichened roofs, to the blue bay. And in it, shortly after sundown, we were served to such a meal as an orthodox monastery may provide during Lent. We lived to learn, sooner or later, how to thrive on snails. This time, however, the piece of resist- There they lead a sort of family life, each elder keeping house with one or more ance was a stew of octopus. ‘That tooth- some creature, being bloodless, escapes the ban which bars out fish and flesh, not to mention eggs, milk, butter, and oil. We also had a vegetable soup, a mixture of leeks and rice, salad, good black bread, a heavenly compound of caviar, lemon, parsley, and—can I believe that mere elbow grease completed that Lenten sub- stitute for butter ?—and more of the fa- mous red wine of the peninsula than we could drink. The old gentleman, the two novices under him, and the cook waited on us, always entering the room without knocking. We found that to be the general etiquette of Mt. Athos. The monks built us a comfortable fire, they smoked cigarettes with us after coffee, they asked us wonderful questions about our country, and they finally brought us thick quilts with a sheet sewn to one side of them, wherein to wrap ourselves for the night. 259 “100P 9} JO Ifo] oY Ye—soyIYV FJ UO oresou Jeinur jo ojdwexoe A[UO dy} JsOW[e Uses 9q O} SI ‘00} ‘Otaj~ “xXoYjIOU oY} JO no suruado jodeyo e& UI polind o1e AtojseuUO ay} FO SJOpUNoO; ueyjodourlipy oyy, “6&Z1 Ur parzojsat Aja}eunyJoyuN ynq ‘CIEI UT poqured jst sooosaty YIM poyesrosep Ayotaydusroo st JOl41a}Ur s}y *AIN}UIS YJUIAITI IO Y}Ud} 9Y} UL PoJoNIJSUOD JSIY SEM SUIPTING JUoIOUe SIT, MWD “SOHLV “LIN -THLAdOLVA WO HOWNHOD WAHL AO XHHIMON MANNII AHL WSING “D “H Aq sydessojoyd Yt Arlo A ep ‘ ‘oton40d Joyies ue JE 910Joq pure ‘sseiq TOWN “SOHLV rn = , shomoipuy Aq usdArs sodyuy pojtopAoiquia Suey LIayj41O\y IY} OJUL 9dUeIJUS dy} dIOJoq,, :s{es JOAOD Us0q JALY JSNUI JVYM JO ureJIND AAvoYy Vv Ssuey JO sajejd poAviIsud YIM PatOAOD St OOP oJ, Y “LA -IBLAdOLVA LV YOO HOVNHSD why 260 I spare the reader a chronicle of our suc- cessive risings up and lyings down at Vato- pethi. He may, how- ever, be interested to hear of the. way in which they were regu- lated. The first time I became conscious, in the watches of the night, of that all-per- vasive hammering, I thought pirates must be upon us, as in days of old. WHERE BELLS ARE TABOO Then I remembered that Greek monks are called to prayer in a fashion of their own. Bells are not regarded with too much favor in the Levant. The fact that they are an innovation borrowed, albeit in the tenth cen- tury, from schismatic Venice makes the orthodox doubt their Ine rece ; 4 appeal, whilethe f§ Turks object to them / even more strongly, § lest they disturb wan- dering spirits. For all ordinary purposes the monks use in their stead a hanging wooden plank, or sometimes a smaller metal bar, of which the necessary concomitant is a stout mal- let. The rhythmic echo of these instru- ments is the most characteristic sound of Mt. Athos, the voice, as it were, of its loyalty to other times. ‘Twice a day, or every eight hours during seasons of fast- ing, it calls the monks to church. And the stranger within their gates di- vides his hours accordingly. His break- fast is ready, if he is not, at the close of the night service. Shall I add that we were a little dismayed to be presented, in lieu of this meal, with the inevitable tray ? I must confess that I am not fond of a 201 IN THE CHURCH OF VATOPETHI: ENN os Photograph by H. G. Dwight MT. ATHOS, GREECE In the rear is seen part of the richly carved and gilded screen which in a Greek church divides the altar from the chancel. large icon at the right 1s one of the more highly prized treasures of the monastery, having been saved from the Church of St. Sophia in Saloniki just before that city was first captured by the Turks. The beefsteak breakfast, and that I have no scruple against a liqueur ; but I don’t care for it the first thing in the morning, with nothing to go with it but a spoonful of jam and a thimbleful of black coffee. We had to beg the astonished cook for a bite of bread, and to lay in a secret stock of chocolate from Karyés, in or- der to keep us going till lunch. This came early, either just before or just after the morning service, while dinner is always served at dark, to give the fathers time for a nap before the night office. THE REFECTORY OF VATOPETHI: Photograph by H. G. Dwight ATHOS, GREECE MT. The story of the founding of Vatopéthi is to the effect that on a voyage from Rome to Constantinople the imperial trireme, having Arcadius, son of Theodosius, aboard, was caught in a storm, in which Vatopéthi, and there the | Theodosius as a thank offering for his son’s MUCH LIBERTY PERMITTED For the rest, the ascetic life did not strike us as being too severe at Vato- péthi. The Eastern church contains no such ey of religious orders as the Western, all Greek monks saa the canon of St. Basil. They have a choice of two forms of government, however, the cenobite and the idiorrhythmic (each member permitted to regulate his own manner of life). Mt. Athos is almost equally divided between the two, and Vatopéthi is one of the second. There is no abbot, the government being in the hands of two or three epitropi, annually elected by the council of elders. The goods of the monastery are owned in common by the brothers, who live sepa- rately, according to their tastes or means, and are allowed considerable latitude in Arcadius fell into the sea. boy was found asleep under the trees. rescue. The next day the trireme made the bay “of Vatopéthi was built by their religious observances. The ceno- bite monasteries, on the other hand, are governed by a hegumen elected” fonplaties who controls the policy and property of the brothers. They occupy uniform cells, take their meals in refectory, are disci- plined for not attending offices, and other- wise follow a more rigorous régime. We took early occasion to pay our re- spects to the epitropi, being received by hose grave and reverend signors with some state and asked questions not a few. They were kind enough to express the honor they felt in entertaining learned strangers, telling us that they had lately received with pleasure the visit of two hundred French lords, who had stopped at Vatopéthi in a white ship of their own. When we said that six hundred Amer- ican lords had recently visited Constan- (or Photograph by H. G. Dwight ONE OF THE SACRED RELICS OF VATOPETHI: MT. ATHOS, GREECE Vatopéthi is extremely rich in relics and church treasures of all kinds. One of the most interesting of these is “a beautiful communion cup, of a reddish translucent stone. supported by two gold dragons, which was the gift of the Emperor Manuel II Polzologus”’ (see text, page 264). tinople in a black ship, the fathers were filled with sorrow at having been passed bya hat black tship.valas~ swall/never cruise in the Levant again, for it was the Arabic, of recent unhappy renown. We also had opportunity, through the friend- liness of the monks, to see how some of them lived—in big, clean, bare apart- ments, furnished chiefly with endless sofas. There they lead a sort of family life, each elder keeping house with one or more spiritual sons—younger monks, novices, and boys devoted by their fami- lies to the monastic life—maintaining them and sometimes even sending them away to school. HAD HE MOMENTS-OF REGRET? We had the good fortune to become especially well acquainted with two such members of ‘families.’ One of them was the assistant librarian, and the other the keeper of the bema and of the prec- ious furniture of the church. The latter took the more trouble for us because he had a brother in New York. Both peas- ants by birth, for whom Mt. Athos prob- ably represented a rise in the social and intellectual scale, they had come as young boys to Vatopéthi. The latter, in partic- ular, made me wonder if he ever had moments of regret. He was a powerful young islander of the Marmora whom one could more easily imagine in a uni- form than in monastic skirts. But the only trace of bitterness I found in him was when he spoke of his lack of learn- ing. Promised an education by his father he had been’ kept. year vatter year in the service of the church—I sus- pected on account of his good looks and good voice—until it was too late for him to go to school. Thanks to our acquaintance with this very kind and intelligent monk, we were free to prowl about the church at our leisure. I might speculate with an air of erudition—cribbed from French and German Byzantinists—about the date of this cruciform structure, the character of its domes, the period of its frescoes, and I know not how many other exact and intricate points of archeology. For my- self, however, I was rather pleased that the fathers, always a little romantic about their own chronicles, assured us that it was reared by the emperor Theodosius the Great, whose son Arcadius they al- THE ARRIVAL, FEAST OF THY leged to have been shipwrecked as a boy in their bay—some six hundred years be- fore Vatapéthi was founded. AND SPLENDOR OF CHURCHES DIGNITY BYZANTINE AEDES And I took no less pleasure in the fres- coes because the monks have a trick of touching them up whenever they begin to look rusty. The whole interior of the church might have been painted by an early Tuscan with a decorative sense and a certain dark nobility that you do not always see in Florence or Siena. These frescoes, with the great carved and gilded altar screen, the tessellated marble floor unencumbered by se ats, the carved stalls, the rich shrines. the innumerable icons, the shining lamps and candelabra, repro- duce more completely than can now be seen elsewhere the dignity and splender of a Byzantine church. The illusion of the past is the more perfect at Vatopéthi, because it contains OF THE PARLIAMENT OF KARYES ANNUNCIATION OF THE VIRGIN: : Bieoeen by H. G. Dwight AT VATOPETHI TO CELEBRATE THE MT. ATHOS, GREECE so many treasures identified with the pious princes of the East. In the body of the church are a throne inlaid with ivory and a beautifully chased silver icon of Andronicus II Palzeologus. Among the smaller and more precious objects preserved in the bema are a fragment of the True Cross, set in gold and studded with big pale stones, in an ancient gold case, with engraved compartments for the blood of saints, presented by that King Lazar of the Serbs who was be- headed in 1389 on the field of Kossova by Sultan Mourad I, himself dying of a dagger-thrust inflicted by a Serbian pris- oner. We were also shown a beautiful com- munion cup, of a reddish translucent stone, supported by two gold dragons, which was the gift of the Emperor Man- uel IT Paleeologus ; and two icons of ex- ceedingly fine mosaic, in repoussé silver- gilt frames, attributed to an imperial lady of the name of Theodora. Since Vato- Photograph by H. G. Dwight THE FEAST OF THE ANNUNCIATION AT VATOPETHI. MONASTERY: MT. ATHOS, GREECE A crowd of pilgrims, monks, and hermits from all parts of the peninsula attends this feast. Huge caldrons of rice and other food are prepared for them, and they are served in the courtyard, seated in long rows on the flagstones. péthi did not exist at the time the con- sort of Justinian was passing through her checkered career, those saintly ob- jects perhaps came from the last of the Macedonian dynasty, sister to that fa- mous Empress Zoe, who, having spent the greater part of 48 irreproachable years as a nun, suddenly blossomed forth on the throne into excesses that aston- ished even Constantinople. THE GIRDLE OF THI; VIRGIN The relic which Vatopéthi cherishes most tenderly is the girdle of the Virgin Mary. Our friend, the assistant libra- rian, gave us the entire history of it, from its presentation by the Queen of Heaven to doubting Thomas until its recovery during the Greek revolution from a Eu- ropean consul, to whom the Turks had sold it. If the earlier stages of the story are involved in some obscurity, the last six or seven hundred years of it are un- questionable. The girdle has now been divided into three parts, one of which its never allowed to leave Vatopéthi. It oc- cupies a little domed chapel in the court- yard. The other two parts often go out on tour, especially when invited by the faithful; and many are the miracles re- ported to have been performed by them. The assistant librarian himself had re- cently returned from such a tour, when he and an older monk traveled for nine months in Thrace and Macedonia with the sacred relic, bringing back some 14,000 frances for the monastery. I fear I was profane enough to take a deeper interest in certain other treasures the assistant hbrarian showed us. These were opened, on top of a tower at an angle of the sea-facade, by an old libra- rian with a beard so long and so white that he might have walked out of a By- Photograph by H. G. Dwight THE SEA TOWER OF SIMOPETRA: MT. ATHOS, GREECE The monastery to which this tower belongs is romantically situated on a crag a thousand feet above the A*gean zantine fresco. From the ceremony with which this visit was invested and the slowness with which the huge library key turned in its wards, I seemed to gather an impression only strengthened by sub- sequent experiences. The librarian of another monastery was also its repre- sentative at Karyés, and he had to be brought down from the capital by ex- press mule before we could see his books. ILLUMINATED MANUSCRIPTS BADLY HANDLED A third library was unlocked by three several keys, whose holders had been collected from as many points of the compass. At a fourth monastery I asked one of the presiding elders if they had any illuminated manuscripts. He said he did not know; he had never been into the library. And we felt an air of mis- trust about us whenever we asked to see books. Sometimes we were not allowed to touch them ourselves. It was the more exasperating, because a dreadful habit 1s almost universal on Mt. Athos of turning rare vellum pages by pinching them up between a licked, but not too clean, thumb and forefinger. Yet we saw holes enough cut in pages where illuminations had been to realize that the monks are not suspicious with- out reason. Nor have all collectors, I fear, been so scrupulous to make return for the spoil they have carried away as that spirited and human traveler, the Hon. Robert Curzon, Jr., who visited the Sacred Mount in 1837, bought a ship- load of precious manuscripts, and in his “Visits to Monasteries in the Levant” wrote an account of his adventures that I, for one, infinitely prefer to “Eothen.” A MYSTIFYING MAP OF MACEDONIA At Vatopéthi they luckily refused to sell him anything. The consequence is that they have today a very rich collec- tion of medieval books. One of the most ADSHs, curious is a geography of the eleventh century, after Strabo and Ptolemy, con- taining the most extraordinary maps. I photographed one of Macedonia, out of which no human being could make head or tail; and on top of it I carefully pro- ceeded to photograph a beautifully illu- minated liturgy of St. Basil. We prolonged our stay at Vatopéthi, at the kind instance of the monks, in order to see a characteristic piece of local color. ‘This was the féte day of the monastery, which is dedicated to the An- nunciation of the Virgin. The festival was celebrated with the more enthusi- asm, I fancy, because it happened to fall in Lent. From all parts of the penin- sula, and even from farther away, guests gathered in honor of one of the chief distractions of the Mt. Athos year. The Parliament of Karyés, especially invited, arrived in a body the day before the féte. Their approach was heralded by gunshots among the hills, at which signal the elders of ‘the monastery assem- bled at the gate. When the representa- PORT OF LAVRA: 26 s / Photograph by H. G. Dwight ECH MT. ATHOS, GRE tives finally dismounted from their gaily caparisoned mules, there was a universal embracing, while the white-kilted escort burned more powder. ‘Then, as the fa- thers entered the court, the bells of the clock-tower pealed them welcome, and they all went into the church for a brief office. The religious event of the occasion was the vigil in the church, which began be- fore sundown on the eve of the great day. We found the two narthexes and the nave packed with monks and peas- ants, all standing, as the Greek custom is. Six tall white guardsmen picturesquely kept the transepts clear. We had the honor to be shown to transept stalls, among the higher clergy and invited guests; but, although this honor con- ferred the privilege of hanging by one’s elbows from the high arms of one’s stall, even of perching on a little shelf ad- justed to the edge of a turned-up seat which it is not etiquette to use, I must confess that I weakly withdrew before midnight. “eIAR’T JO AJO|SVUOU JY} YIM poyeryze ‘sto ‘Ajoyseuowu e uodn JUopuod AI¥D-POOM pue siojured Jo pasodwood st ays puv d]NI OSCUOW JOPUN SUTIATT APLUNUWIWUOS [eII|SNpUrT Ue SE ajlys VW ‘SSOHLV “LIN IH, JO HOWNHD WHY TELL ONIN USAT OOS T VIAA'TVSLOSAV YE “KNOEHLNV ‘LS NOLLV “OUT} Joplo yey} JO Olor a[qe}IIoA Be oq [JoM AvUT YT pure ‘elIoyo[Ng ssoidmy oy} JO uoy -di4sut ue siveq ‘apef JO yno yo AT[NyyNvoq ‘uorTeIYsH]IE siy} JO dno oy} ynq ‘Aanjusd Y}UIe}INOF oY} O} YL oyNqIayWe speuue sJOURJOI ‘AINjUID YIFY oy} ur opdourjueysuod) ul pousior OYM ‘eiOY [Ng ssoiduyy ULsa1 A, 94} 0} AtOJSeUOL STY} JO UOIWepUNOF oy} SOQIIOSe UOT}IPRAY [RIO’T MOWUAID “SOHLV “LIN >ONVLOdOUIX FO AMALSVNOW MILL OL, ONIONO'TLAE dNO NOINOWIWOOS Wdvl V GNV @I0O9 NALVad NI GNNO ‘THtdSOD V STILL, CHANTING AT 4 A.M. My friend, the as- sistant librarian, kind- ly saw to it that I did not miss the climax of the ceremony. It was strange, at 4. o'clock in the morning, to come out of the cool starhght of the court into the heat and press and splendor of the churchs- to, find the good fathers chanting on as I had left them, as monks had chanted Delonge sthemmy tors a thousand years. The responses passed from transept to transept in the antique Byzantine monotone. First at one lectern and then at the other a young deacon in- toned from an illumi- nated missal. His pale, serious face and the red clint in) the hair waving about his shoulders made me —* think of a Giorgione. Others, in magnificent me brocades, swinging =~ 8. =. censers, came and & went. The officiating bishop, an old man bowed down by his Photograph by H. G. Dwight THE PHIATE OR FONT OF LAVRA: MT. ATHOS, GREECE This beautiful and interesting church fountain stands in front jeweled miter and his cloth-of-gold vest- ments, sat on a carved and gilded _ throne, holding an emerald cross in one hand and of the monastery Church of Lavra. The phiate was originally built in 1060, although the brickwork of the present structure dates from the sixteenth or seventeenth century. But the fountain itself and the marble panels surrounding it are, no doubt, original. The foun- tain built in Constantinople by Emperor William II, in commemora- tion of his two visits to Sultan Abd-til-Hamid, was inspired by this Byzantine design. in the other a tall gold crozier. And lights were everywhere— in brass and silver candalabra, in a fan- tastic silver tree bearing oranges of gold, in votive lamps and chandeliers before dim images, and in the great brass cor- onal, with its double-headed eagles of Byzantium, swinging from the central dome. The focus of the ceremony was an an- cient icon of the Virgin. It stood on a sort of easel draped with rich stuffs, under a parasol of flowered white bro- cade. As the office proceeded, the breast of the figure was hung with old Byzantine jewelry and strings of gold coins. Among them I afterward saw a Roman stater, two beautiful Alexanders, and any num- ber of Venetian ducats and besants of Constantinople. BLESSING THE BARLEY CAKE At sunrise the Virgin was divested of her more precious finery and carried out of the church under her parasol. “Pre= 2609 WSIMG 5) ‘PY Aq ydessojoyq AOMAUD “SOMLV “LIN JO NUWAVT GNV SNNOW ea SRE ee ee ve CHA UCIDECE ‘ Hea Wa, teen KS On |BIQXMt Athos la A Gulf of Saloniki Lay gco™ pe Samothrace 30 40 50 Statute Miles 255 OUTLINE MAP OF SALONIKI ceded by banners and gilded lanterns on staves, escorted by a motley retinue of monks and peasants, she made the circuit of the monastery, without the walls, while the bells jingled and the bearded guards- men shot off their pistols like boys into the early sunlight. At the return of the procession the liturgy was celebrated. Picturesque details of it, peculiar to the day, were the progress through the church of twelve sacred relics, each borne by a priest in gorgeous vestments, and the bringing in by guardsmen and blessing of two huge barley cakes frosted with sugar and colored candies. Then those present, in hierarchic order, crossed and _ pros- trated themselves before the parasoled icon, after which the communion was ad- ministered, the barley cakes were cut, and the vigil of the Annunciation, 15 hours long, came to an end. I did not wonder at the speed with which the church emptied itself into the refectory. This interesting cruciform structure, frescoed like the church and 271 AND ADJACENT COUNTRIES furnished with tables of one rough slab of marble, is now used only on such occa- sions. Guests of the humbler sort over- flowed into the court, where they were served in long rows on the flagstones. The higher dignitaries soon withdrew to the apartments of the epitropi. ‘They sat down to a more elaborate banquet there at nightfall. Fish of many kinds, pre- pared in many ways, made up the chief feature of the menu—an exception allow- able on this one day of Lent. While the black-gowned guests enjoved this respite from the rigors of their long fast, they were entertained by the more famous choristers of the peninsula. After each had displayed his proficiency in the By- zantine chant, the Elders poured him out a glass of wine and dropped a napoleon into it. I must not forget, however, the fair that established itself at the monastery gate, where the general effect of color and costume was more notable than the THE BEST PRESERVED GREEK TEMPLE IN THE WORLD objects offered for sale. And there was one more office in the church, to which I fear I would not have gone if a kind father had not hunted me up. The Vir- gin under her parasol, the silver orange tree, and other precious furniture had disappeared. The afternoon sun streamed through the high transept windows, bringing out the pattern of the marble floor, the rich carving of the altar screen, details of the pictured walls. THE NIGHT-LONG VIGIL/S END It brought out, too, the faces of the fathers under their black veils, worn and haggard after the night-long vigil. Ata moment of the office one Bee another lighted a wax candle from that of his to lo , THE THESEUM : ATHENS, GREECE neighbor. ‘The two semicircles twinkled pallidly enough at each other across the sun-touched splendor of the church. The incense, that had been so heady the night before, somehow missed its effect, like the candles. A swallow flashed across the opposite window. I thought of the green hill I had climbed that afternoon, blossoming with asphodel, and how the sea looked through the leaning olive trees. I wondered what the fathers thought, chanting so gravely in the spring afternoon—if they, too, saw hills, or seas, or faces other than haggard ones under black monastic veils. With the sound of their chant an unsanctified crooning of pigeons suddenly began to mingle from the court without. VOL. XXX, No. 4 WASHINGTON OCTOBER, 1916 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC |_ MAGAZINE INEXHAUSTIBLE ITALY By ARTHUR STANLEY Riccs AvutHor oF “THE BEAUTIES OF FRANCE,” IN THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE nowned for their beauty. We visit them to satisfy our inherent love for the picturesque. Some, again, are famous as the scenes of great and stir- ring events which have made history; them we visit to stand enthralled in the presence of the great spirits of old. Still other parts attract us strongly because of _the vivid kaleidoscope of their modern _ life and customs. But what shall we say of Italy, at once exquisitely beautiful, glowing with life and contemporaneous interest ; and, above all, quick with the memory of: her glori- ous past? One writes of her in despair of giving more than a bald sketch of the character and attributes that endear her to all mankind. Richly—lavishly !—she returns love for love, and they who most tax her find her the most inexhaustible, ever giving, ever repaying, with bound- less interest, the affection of her children of the entire world. S OME parts of the world are re- WE ARE ALL HER CHILDREN The compulsion of Italy is based upon the deep, pervasive humanity of soul she shares with no other in degree and with but few in kind. That humanity, with its essential heights and depths of spirit- uality and grossness, glows in the grand- est art the world has ever seen and been inspired by; it pulsates lustily in litera- ture that to this day is the envy and de- spair of mankind; it dominates us who still live in the closing era of the Renais- sance that only the splendid individualism and genius of the lustrous Florentines could make possible. Italy is not of the Italians; she is of the world. We are all her children, and some of the most sublime lessons life has to teach us have been learned of her wis- dom and accumulated experience. THE GEOGRAPHICAL POSITION OF ITALY Indeed, in considering the great epochs of civilization, we often overlook the fact that more than half of them developed in Italy. Classifying history, we find five periods: the Culture of the Ancient East ; Hellenic Civilization; the vast Roman Organism ; the Domination of the Roman * Catholic “Church and, last of alle the “emancipation of Europe from medieval influences” in what we usually speak of as the Renaissance. In a word, there- fore, we owe to Italy three of the five periods—the three which have exercised the world most potently in both practical things and the things of the spirit. Geographical position is not sufficiently recognized, except by the special student, in its influence upon the character and achievements of a nation. ‘This is pecu- liarly true in the case of Italy. A single glance at the map (see page 360) discloses its position as one of the chief sources of the country’s individuality. From the beginning Nature set Italy apart. Every boundary is perfectly clear. Photograph by A. W. Cutler PEASANTS OF SOUTHERN ITALY The donkey seizes The historic seas enfold it to south, east, and west. On the north the terrific Alps sweep around in a great semicircle from Mediterranean to Adriatic, closing the circuit. To be sure, from the time of Augustus the boundary of each side of northern Italy has been juggled, now to the east, now to the west, by politics; but the physical boundary is still definitely there So thoroughly did the ancient chr oniclers recognize these natural limits that long before the name Italy had any political significance or entity the writers applied it to the country thus inclosed. The pen- insula, with its tremendous Apennine backbone, makes a huge boot which thrusts out practically into the center of the great Midland Sea. Necessarily, t then, Italy was exposed to attack and invasion from three sides. In- deed, it was the invading, or rather colon- izing, Greek who combined with the ab- origine to form the population that stocked the peninsula. Taken in a smaller the opportunity to snatch a few moments’ slumber way, geographical site or position exer- cised no less distinct an effect upon some of the foremost Italian cities; and in shaping their affairs and men it also in- fluenced the entire world. NATURAL DIVISIONS OF THE COUNTRY Italy is generally regarded as lying in three parts—northern, central, and south- ern. Nature has set no boundary between central and southern Italy ; but from the southernmost point of the Alps, at the French frontier, the Apennines swing across to the eastward, leaving in the arc they cut a huge U-shaped basin, drained by the river Po and its tributaries, open to the Adriatic. After forming this basin — northern Italy—the Apennines sweep southward in a rugged backbone which determines the whole internal geography of the country as definitely as the Alps do its outline northward. The Apennines are not, how- ever, merely a backbone, but a broad mass with several minor ranges and Photograph by Donald McLeish “ON THE NORTH THE TERRIFIC ALPS SWEEP AROUND IN A GREAT SEMICIRCLE FROM MEDITERRANEAN TO ADRIATIC, CLOSING THE CIRCUIT” A pasture above Breuil, Italy. In the background, four miles distant, is the Dend d’Herens, 13,715 feet, an elevated outpost of the Swiss-Italian frontier. Photograph by Donald McLeish THE MATTERHORN, THE MOST WONDERFUL MOUNTAIN IN°THE ALPS, 14,785 FEET, FROM THE FOREST OF BREUIL: ITALIAN SIDE This formidable peak long remained unconquered. No less than eight attempts were made by Mr. Whymper alone. The ninth was successful, but was marred by a terrible catastrophe. While descending, soon after leaving the summit, Mr. Hadow, one of the party, slipped, dragging four others with him. The remaining three were well placed and able to save themselves by holding firmly to the rocks. The rope between them, however, broke, and they saw their unfortunate comrades disappear over the edge, to fall a depth of one mile to the glacier below. This was two generations ago. Now scarcely a summer day passes in times of peace when a dozen mountaineers, men and women, do not reach its summit. ee 270 Photograph by Donald McLeish THE GRIVOLA, ONE OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL OF THE ITALIAN ALPS, 13,022 FEET, FROM THE NORTH: TAKEN FROM THE PUNTA ROM, 10,250 FEET SdO1D FO JULJIOTWI JSOU OY} 91e SUOUII] PUL Sa9SURIO JIM ‘SATO pue snyovd pu sted JuRTInxny sj1ods vAOUd®) Ip RIDIATY OY} Poyf[ed ysvoo FO di1js ay} apy je] owes oy} AT[ENzALA UL JOA ‘sjsorZ divys puvISYJIM JOUULD Jey} MOIS [[IM SuTyJOU soulUUsdy 94} JO YON SLVO@ ONIHSIA VUAIATY soured “yz Aq ydeisojoyg ee ee ee INE IBU-MURS MOBO, IAL NS 279 groups of peaks, generally separated by high upland valleys, one of whose pla- teaux, the Piano di Cinque Miglia, at a height of 4,298 feet above the sea, is the wintriest and bleakest spot in all Italy. This upland region is bordered every- where by lowlands of luxuriantly fertile character, prolific in fruit and verdure and of a genially warm and sunny cli- mate. In central Italy, west of the moun- tains, the valleys of the Arno and Tiber— the only streams of importance—give the keynote to any geographical study of the region. Over on the eastern coast no rivers of importance can exist, because the mountains there approach too close to the sea, though the tortuous, mostly dry beds of the torrenti scar every height. In this connection it is interesting to note that nowhere is the peninsula more than 150 miles wide, and generally not more than 100, while down in Calabria the width dwindles in two places to 35 and 20 miles respectively. One of the most inspiring views in the whole length of the country also displays this narrowness strikingly when, on a clear day, from the Gran Sasso, the highest point in the bleak Abruzzi Range, central Italy, at nearly 10,000 feet, one may look not only east- ward over the Adriatic to far Dalmatia’s rocky shores, but also westward over mountain and moor, city and sandy coast, to the dim and misty blue of the Tyrrhe- nian Sea. In volcanic southern Italy, likewise barren of any great waterways, the Apennines break up into groups of hills and peaks, not usually so lofty as farther northward. THE RIVERS AND LAKES Italy is fairly provided with deep-water seaports—Naples, Genoa, Spezia, the naval base, and Leghorn, on the western coast, and Venice, Ancona, and Brindisi, on the east. The rivers—except the Po— as may have been inferred already, are of little or no importance for navigation—a fact the Romans cleverly disposed of by building those beautiful and enduring military roads which to this day vein the whole length and breadth of the coun- try—though the rapidity of their currents and the flashing, dashing cascades and torrenti that come swirling into them make them highly picturesque and de- lightful as features of the landscape. What human being with a single spark of soul could fail to expand under the magic of that wonderful chain of lakes along her northern border—Garda, Idro, Iseo, Como, Lugano, Maggiore, Orta? These remarkable and exquisite sheets of water, formed by the tributaries of one single stream—the Po—sprawl about in tremendously deep valleys among tower- ing hills of solid rock, while scattered among them are shallow little lakes, en- tirely different in both character and aspect. Adjectives and imagination alike fail before them, and inarticulate emotion robs the beholder of any power of ex- pression. And what of Trasimeno and Chiusi? What of those littler lakes which smile up at us from ashen, volcanic cups throughout central and southern Italy? What of Matese, Fusino, Lucrino, Averno—all those many that dimple the pages of history and brighten or glower through the yet more ancient myth and song of bard? THE ISLES OF THE. WEST Beside defining the limits of the coun- try so clearly, Nature also bulwarked the long and tortuous Italian peninsula on the west with a host of rocky defenses in the sapphire waters of the storied Tyrrhe- hian Sea—Gorgona, of the suggestive name; rocky Capraia; Elba, of Napole- onic fame; the stony fleet of the little Ponzas ; bold and rugged Ischia, with its castle on a big boulder ; Procida likewise ; humpbacked Capri, where “that hairy old goat,” as Suetonius called the Emperor Tiberius, held his revels; the A*olian or Lipari Isles, black monsters that spout fire and sing weird music to terrify the superstitious argonaut ; magnificent Sar- dinia, with its little sister Corsica clinging to its coat-tails a step behind. Both be- long to Italy by every right of Nature— as a bright lad in a Sicilian school told me: “Sardegna, si/ But Corsica—no! She belongs to Italy geographically, but politically to France,” And the greatest of all these outworks is Sicily. A MACARONI FACTORY Italy without ma special variety of hard wheat. brings it out in long strings. in the open air to dry, collected sufficient of both to make it nicely and sold. SICILY, THI GARDEN OF EDEN Geographical location was the deciding factor of the life of this loveliest of all Mediterranean islands. Here we have neither time nor place for Sicily beyond the merest hint of a long series of vivid pictures, which begin with the misty tra- ditions of the Garden of Eden and carry us through the evolution of civilization right to the present. Every State of an- cient Europe falls into a place in the en- during pageant. Greek and Roman, Car- thaginian and swart Moor, Spaniard and French and Italian fight and retreat, build and demolish, create and undermine. Nature itself, now in the guise of the misunderstood gods of old, now in con- vulsions or in quiet fertility that science has made plain to us, weaves its mysteri- ous shuttle through and through the caroni would be Hamlet without the ghost. The paste is forced through a press full of holes, These are cut into about six-foot lengths and hung on poles with a nonchalant disregard for germs and dust. stiff it is cut into commercial lengths, boxed, Macaroni is made of a which By the time it has highly colored fabric. And men—such men !—tower above their fellows in the story like Titans: Pindar, A‘schylus, Theocritus, Thucydides, Archimedes, the two great Hierons, Cicero, Verres, Dio- dorus, Hamilcar and Hannibal, Roger the Count and Roger the King, Belisarius, the great Crusaders—Richard of the Lion Heart and Louis the Saint of France— Charles of Anjou, Frederick II, the “Wonder of the World,” and Garibaldi. Even this partial list reads like a com- pendium of ancient and medieval romance and chivalry. Sicily’s history is as vivid and pictur- esque, as ferocious and creative and de- ee as mythical and intensely prac- cal, as the stories of all the rest of the W ae put together. And in beauty of nature, of climate, of man, and of beast, the island is a paradise today, whether or THE LAND OF THE MACARONI-EATERS: NAPLES “Maccheroni” cries of the beggar is, nickel for macaroni!” fame! Oh, I’m dying of hunger.” not it was ever the workless, painless, passionless elysium where our first an- cestors enjoyed all the good things of life without having to toil. All this, alas, must wait a more opportune moment for de- scription. CLIMATE AND VEGETATION As in the case of Japan, the surround- ing sea makes a vast difference in the Italian climate. Judged by its position alone, the peninsula should be about the hottest part of Europe—it is only 90 miles from the southern shore of Sicily to Africa. But the twin seas and the ever snow-capped mountains temper the heat, and the regional peculiarities are such that we find Turin, for instance, colder in eating is a trade with the street begg to men and boys gifted with copper interiors immune to heat. “Signore, dame cinque soldi, mangia maccheroni! And usually the plea ends with a lugubrious whine, “Oh, muori di 281 ar, and apparently a satisfying one One of the most familiar Mister, gimme a winter than Copenhagen, and Milan as warm in summer as Naples. These same striking differences characterize the vege- tation also. North of the Apennines nothing will grow that cannot withstand sharp frosts, yet in virtually the same lati- tude the strip of coast called the Riviera di Genova sports luxuriant palms and cactus and olives, while oranges and lemons are the most important of crops. A large part of the beauty of the ver- dure and forest that attracts the visitor’s attention was unknown in the olden times and is not properly Italian at all, but im- ported. The favored groves of orange and lemon, with their golden fruit elint- ing among the rich and sappy foliage, breathe of the Levant and the dark- QOVTIIA NIVINOQOW NVITIVII NV JO SAO !ONIMANA AHTHOSIWN oer eget sail i A SMALL PAINTED VEGETABLE CART DRAWN BY A SARDINIAN DONKEY: AOWAaweg Qe zg yj 7 J Photograph by A. W. Cutler PALERMO When the size of the donkey is compared with the height of the man and the boy, some idea may be formed of its diminutiveness skinned Saracenic invaders from the East. The cactus, with its prickly pear fruit, called the “Indian fig,” and the aloe came straight from Mexico on the heels of the Spanish adventurings into the un- known in the sixteenth century. So did the American corn or maize. Even the eucalyptus is an importation—a modern one—and the great groves of chestnuts that clothe the shaggy mountain sides so verdantly, and give occupation to so many vendors of the hot and pasty boiled nut, are believed not to be native. Fvergreens still form a large propor- tion of the foliage and make a great dif- ference in the appearance of the winter landscape, which conspicuously lacks the nakedness of regions clothed only with deciduous growths. The brown slopes of the mountains, the milky roads that wind and wind through rolling upland and flat campagna, or around the startlingly abrupt shoulders of mountains, and the sparkle of stream or lake or inlet, give the Italian country side a vivacity and charm lacking in both its Latin neigh- bors—a special quality of brightness and life. THE PEOPLE AND THEIR CONDITION Province by province the country mani- fests a varying charm, and the people differ as widely as their surroundings. The hot-blooded southerner observes a different standard of morals and hygiene, fires to anger or interest more quickly, and is generally less dependable and in- dustrious than his northern brother. Both are gifted with the black eyes and hair and the swarthy complexion, as a race, that is a general characteristic of the Latin peoples. But the Italian is, broadly speaking, like his country, en- dowed with a physical beauty and charm beyond that of most of his fellows. In the north, however, there are excep- tions—fair-haired and reddish men and women, who seem strangely out of place 283 284 among their dark neighbors. Cool, tem- perate exotics they are among the higher colored growths that somehow seem so tropical, with their sultry smiles and fath- omless, mysterious eyes, in which forever broods the shadow of the purple moun- tains that always and everywhere domi- nate all Italy, even to the delightful Cara- binieri, or Rural Guards, those Napole- onic-looking officials who parade always solemnly in pairs, hangers at their sides, cockades on their black beavers, the maj- esty of the law in every line and footstep. A TALE OF REMARKABLE PROGRESS Suggestive of comic opera though the Carabinieri seem, they are nevertheless most devoted fellows and absolutely es- sential to the maintenance of order. The condition of the mass of the Italian peo- ple is still far from happy and disorders are frequent, though rarely fatal when the paired guards are within range. Italy, it must not be forgotten, is largely an ag- ricultural country, with the farm hands making up a third of the total population. Their lot is hard because of the agricul- tural conditions and the ignorance of the masses. Nevertheless, since the Italians became a nation, half a century ago, there has been amazing progress in every direction. Agricultural methods have vastly im- proved, agricultural production doubled, and manufacturing to a most gratifying extent taken the place of importation. In fact, Italy is now among the exporting nations, and the rapid growth of her in- dustrial enterprises bids fair to make her, as an English writer points out, as highly organized and efficient, in a manufactur- ing sense, as was Belgium prior to Igr4. Italian emigration is due largely to overpopulation, and the consequent over- supply of labor at very low rates, rather than to the agricultural conditions, while the progress made in public education has been so wonderful as to give sound basis for the hope that within a reasonable time illiteracy will be as negligible in Italy as it is in the United States. Public schools maintained by the communes, with State help where necessary, have already diminished illiteracy from 73 per cent in 1871 to about 44 per cent in I9QII THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE (the last official census). Despite the brilliant progress achieved in only forty years, this figure is appalling. Notwithstanding, the poorest Italian has the sun in his eyes and the geniality of the gods in his smile, while his fatal- istic stoicism and keen sense of humor are something never to be forgotten. [ remember, after the Vesuvian eruption of 1906, seeing a man whose home had been destroyed and the work of a life- time obliterated calmly cooking a meal of potatoes and chestnuts over a hot spot in the lava stream that had overwhelmed his place. “Gia! I have a fine stove now!” was his dry comment. THE BEGINNINGS OF ITALY So far as general world interest is con- cerned, the story of Italy begins its im- portance with the period made historic by the advent of the Greeks in the vici- nage of what is now Naples. This was a neighborhood doomed at the very be- ginning to be fatal to every race that spread about the shores of its exquisite bay. The beauty of the scenery, with the vast black and green Vesuvius gemming it ominously ; the mild and sunny climate of dolce far mente; the soft and per- fumed airs, all strongly predisposed the sternest men to languor and voluptuous- ness. Not a single one of the nations who have left us memories of their so- journs about the dimpling bay could with- stand these lethal influences, or became sufficiently acclimated in all the long cen- turies to leave us one great and enduring monument. To find “the glory that was Greece,” one must go southward for 60 miles along the scalloped green and silver strand that borders the azure sea to Pzstum, the Poseidonia of Greek days. The same dazzling sunshine the worshipers of Po- seidon, or Neptune, Knew pours down its glorious flood upon temple ruins so ma- jestic and sublime, so quick with the austere loftiness of soul that marked their builders, we wonder that anything ever could have happened to obliterate the city which Herodotus tells us flourished five centuries and a half before our era be- gan; a garden city, a city still, in the time of the great Latin poets, wreathed and Photograph by A. W. Cutler NAPLES A RISING FRUIT MERCHANT OF Ze) N ‘punoiz8yoeq oy} ul Sdpy SsiMG snors0js ay} puv JoyeM pidury Ss1OIssvyY 9yv’/] FO Ssoutwa]d otf} 930N ‘Q1OLIOUNG BIOS] 9 P]Joq vpOS] ‘S1OLS SRI, OSe’T EVINO “AYOIONVIN ‘ONVON'T ‘OWOD ‘ONST “ONG ‘VaNVI—ANACNOd NUWHLAON WAH YNOTV SUMV'T HO NIVHO ‘TOTJWHGNOM LVHW JO OIOVIN AH WHaNA GNVdXa# OF, ‘IIVA GINOD ‘INOS AO MUVdS WIONIS V HIM INI NVNOH LVM Surly MW IpNaziory wosy ydvisojoy { < @ Se = cs JUNIE SG SLNOISINUBIL IS, IDA NG garlanded with the “twice-blooming roses of Peestum.” But brooding silence has fallen over these magnificent Doric remains and their flattened city. We may study undisturbed the subtle refirements the architects adopted to give grace and elegance to structures of so heavy a type: the swell and slant of the massive fluted columns, the curving line of foundation and entab- lature, the perfect coherence and sim- plicity that has made the Greek form the only one perfect in appearance without regard to size. Even the hardy Roman who met and imbibed the softer culture of the polished Greek in southern Italy here went to pieces mentally and gave history only Lucullian feasts and sybaritic indulgence of every sort. The most lavish and pro- fligate of all the watering places of im- perial days grew up at Baiz, named for Ulysses’ helmsman, to the west of Naples, along the Gulf of Pozzuoli. No beauty, convenience, or luxury the Roman world could produce to give the region added charm was lacking. The foundations of many of the magnificent villas and baths were thrown far out into the warm, in- viting bay. THE CRUMBLED GLORIES OF BALA But with the decline of Rome, Baize and its district crumbled ; and all we have today as means for the interpretation of that gay and splendid era are shattered remains of masonry, colonnades, passage- ways, mosaic pavements, and statuary dotting the hillsides; and in the water huge blocks of concrete vaguely tracing the lines of those baths where the gilded youth and corrupt old age of Rome idled away the sunny hours and occupied their minds with the devising of new sorts of indulgence. One of the ancient Roman towns near by is still very much alive—Pozzuoli. Founded by the Greeks, it was captured by the Romans, and at one time was the most important commercial city in the Empire. Its harbor was a focus of traffic with Egypt and the East. Spices and perfumes from the Nile, copper and gold from Tarshish (Spain), slaves and weap- ons and other commodities in popular 287 demand landed here. And St. Paul, in those comfortable, letter-like chapters of the Acts, that describe his adventures on the way up to Rome and martyrdom, says: “And we came the next day to Puteoli, where we found brethren and were desired to tarry with them seven days.’ The modern town is an attractive manufacturing community, much of its prosperity based on the cement made of the puzzolana, or volcanic earth, named atter it. “NAPOLI LA BELLA!” Naples, aside from its amazing local beauty, is a dirty south Italian seaport, full of fleas and beggars, noisy as pande- monium day and night, without a really distinguished edifice, and peopled by a conglomerate mass as strikingly beautiful physically as they are notoriously untrust- worthy. From the storied heights that sweep in a magnificent amphitheater around the brilliant bay the old city strag- gles downward in a picturesque huddle of densely packed houses and other build- ings, tortuous streets full of color and bubbling with the nervous activity of the south, black canyons of stone stairs, slip- pery with damp and dirt, across which the teeming houses gossip and quarrel in neighborly wise. Nowhere are fisherfolk more pictur- esque in habit and costume; nowhere is there so salty a dialect, spiced with such myriad quaint and startling phrases and exclamations. Bare and brown of leg, dressed in ragged, parti-colored motley, a stout canvas band about each sinewy body for hauling in the net without cutting the hands to pieces, they bring ashore their shimmering silver quarry right along the widest, finest promenade in the city—the handsome Via Caracciolo. Across that broad street the charming Villa Nazion- ale, not a house, but a public park, wholly conventional in design, contains an aqua- rium which may fairly be considered the most remarkable in the world for both the variety and interest of its finny and mon- strous exhibits and the thoroughness of its scientific work. To it many of the great universities of the world contribute annually for the privilege of sending spe- cial investigators in zoology. During the afternoon drive, which is an. institution throughout all Italy, an endless procession flashes past the park, to the pistoling of whips, the running ob- ligato of chatter and exclamation, shout of encouragement, and execration for careless driving. Everybody drives. The lofty drag of their Royal Highnesses the Duke and Duchess of Aosta rolls sol- emnly along behind magnificent bays in stately silence ; tourists “rubber” by in hired hacks ; a motley array of shabby- genteel carriages contains a nobility too proud to omit the drive if they have to go to bed supperiess, and snappy little gigs and carts, brilliant with paint and varnish, dance along behind fiery minia- ture barbs decked out in all the toggery of feathers and bells and fancy leather that Italian ingenuity can suggest. Nowhere are there such experts at extracting frightful explosions from a whiplash as in this happy-go-lucky Naples ; nowhere such a tumult of sound and color; no- where such light-hearted irresponsibility. Peery ie IN. Ww. Cutler BUT ONE THOUGHT FILLS THE MIND OF HALF THE MOTHERS AND CHILDREN IN THE WORLD—TO MAKE SOMETHING THAT WILL KEEP FATHER AND BROTHER WARM IN THE TRENCHES The commercial activity of this largest city and second seaport of Italy clings close about the skirts of the enormous royal palace—8oo feet long on the bay side and 95 feet high—and the naval basin and dockyard. Every smell and sound of a thriving seaport may be smelt and heard, multiplied generously ; every flag seen on the ships that ride at anchor near the stone wharves. BABEL LESS CONFUSED On the streets men of every race min- gle tongues and costumes and manners; Babel itself was only mildly confused compared with this jumble of Naples; and throughout all the throng play the beggar, the’ street musician, thee macaroni- eater—that is a trade, and a satisfying one, apparently—the piratic cabman, the guide, and the baggage- smasher—all seek- ing whom they may plunder with a gra- cious twinkle of humid black eyes and a smile that makes the being robbed a pleasure. Photograph by Von Gloeden CLASSIC MODELS IN MODERN SICILY The present-day descendants of the early Greek colonists of Syracuse retain the grace of pose and the symmetry of form which distinguished their ancestors of two thousand years ago. Here is a youth who might have been the original for one of the matchless marbles of Praxiteles or for a figure in a Phidian frieze. 289 ‘suefo1y, oY} JO sue -puadsop a1oM SULISOS’Y 9} Poddtjod sysedy) ay, ‘S[eydes toy} Surpnyour “ysty Joo} 6% pure oseq oY} Je JoJoUIeIp ur joo} g SUUINTOS YIM ‘opr yooF SQ ‘SUO] JOof OO SI DINJONIS oY, “ATIOIG Ul SYdoI4) ay} JO SdJoF PoAtosoid jsoq oy} FO DUO ST J ynq ‘paya{durod JOAoU seA YT ‘suONsOdo1d Supyitys S}t JO} ULY} UOTL[OST o[qeysetwos sp wo1y Sursoduit ssoy OU St 9] dui9} Yaeir) JuoFOUe sIy} ‘sureJUNOW Aq popunotims “ods o}vjOsop B UT poyenyS MIIOIS JO NOLLONS GIIM AUVHA V ‘VISHOUS LV WIdNAL MAHND GIO AHL JO MAIA LNV ISIC V Jomo “MM ‘V Aq ydessojoyd re a ; bObSL RELL * i 290 INEXHAUSTIBLE ITALY Street singing is an especially Neapoli- tan institution, and when for the first time one hears beneath his windows the more often than not off-key versions of the snappy, lilting, inexpressibly infec- tious Neapolitan songs, he is enchanted, and throws pennies freely. After a week or so of it as a steady diet, day and night, he inclines much more toward heavy crockery ! VOLCANOES BIG AND LITTLE The entire Neapolitan littoral is vol- canic, from Vesuvius on the east to the storied tufa heights of Cumz on the west. Between Cume’s ruins and Naples lie those famed and mystic Phleg- rean fields of our school days, which nobody remembers anything about. They have always been a theater of tremendous voleanic activity, but the disturbances here have no connection, curiously enough, with Vesuvius; also, the two areas are wholly different in geological character and formation. The spongy nature of the rock of the Phlegrzan fields allowed the internal steam and gases to escape with relatively little resistance at numerous points; so, instead of one tremendous peak being formed, as in the case of Vesuvius, many little craters wart the ground. ‘Thirteen still exist, among them Solfatara, bellow- ing out a vaporous combination of sul- phur, hydrogen, and steam, and produc- ing startling little special eruptions when teased with a lighted stick ; dried-up Lake Agnano, with its famous, or infamous! “Dog Grotto,’ where about 18 inches of warm, bluish, foetid carbonic acid gas snuffs out torches even more quickly than it used to the poor dogs kept there for show purposes; and somber Lake Aver- nus, in ancient times surrounded by dense forests and dark traditions, one of which declared no bird could fly across it be- cause of its poisonous exhalations. VESUVIUS: DESTROYER AND RENOVATOR The Cumzan Sybil was supposed to in- habit a gloomy cavern in the south bank. Her room and others in the rock are probably part of the remarkable harbor works built by the Emperor Augustus. In this same region is the Monte Nuovo, 291 455 feet high, thrown up in three days in 1538. On the east Vesuvius dominates the whole splendid region. He is the Cyclops standing, blind and massive and treacher- ous, in the midst of his rich vineyards, olive groves, and vegetable gardens; for, though he spreads destruction in his blind rages, the fact is that this entire piana is the marvelously fertile soil that disinte- grated lava and volcanic ashes make. It bears huge crops, far greater and finer than ordinary good soil can produce. Among other things, it yields the grapes whose spicy juices are so precious their wine is termed Lacrima Cristi—Tears of Christ. Is it any wonder that the native returns again and again to repair the damage and risk his life to produce such wine and olives and fruit ? BURIED HERCULANEUM AND POMPEII After the great eruption of A. D. 79 there were occasional eruptions which varied in intensity, until 1500, when the volcano became quiescent. The crater walls grew up thick with trees and scrub, while cattle and wild boars roamed the grassy plain inside—all but an ominous lower level of ashes and pools of hot, gaseous water. Then, in December of 1631, the whole interior was blown vio- lently out, and 18,000 people are said to have perished. Since then Vesuvius has never been entirely quiet. During the eruption of 1906 the column of smoke and ashes rose to a height of about two miles, and some of the ashes were car- ried as far as observatories in France and Switzerland.* It was horrible hot mud that over- whelmed fashionable Herculaneum in 79, belched from the crater as torrents of steam, boiling water, and scorie. It raised the level of the entire countryside 65 feet, filled up the harbor, and wiped out practically all the townsfolk. The elder Pliny, who commanded the Roman squadron in the roadstead, went to his death near Stabiz, like the gallant sailor he was, trying to assist some hapless ref- ugees. Herculaneum is more a misty memory than anything else, for the mud turned *See article by Thomas A. Jaggar, Jr., in the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE, June, 1906. ‘IIOYMAIOAD PUNOF o1e syNou st yourd oyquizid SAjs0A0d ‘premMowoy SuIMoy pos JO wivstjs JuLJsUOD v daoy OYM PUL “VII -Oy} JO SUd} OY} YWAM UA ‘o7eIG UTeJUNOPY Usotr) oy} sv ojdood AuLUT SB Sout} Uo} A]Ivou Sey Ht Jo PUT OUM Sd JUOULIO A Uv qaoouvd wi Jpg *M ‘Vv Aq ydessojoyg a - i, © H GNV AYMUOL YH LOW V Ad GANVHS HLVd NOS NOONWILIVY NV Arsuny pur sundsowoy IOWY O} OUIOD OAI lt JY snvp pur ]} Josiey opjqT] & SI pue joy Ajopr SuOS S}I JO spues ATLOTS M ONE OBUMORS OBIE, IAN Ee into solid stone and made excavations almost impossible. The town is a rich and tempting bait to the archeologists, however, for from a single one of the ruins came most of those exquisite bronzes in the Naples Museum, and 3,000 rolls of papyrus, part of the owner’s pri- vate library. What a contrast is Pompeii, destroyed at the same time, but by ashes! ‘Though these gradually hardened into something like cement, they are much more easily removed than the stone at Herculaneum, and most of what we know of the details of ancient Latin life we have learned from the stark, scarred, roofless lower stories spread out before us in deathly panorama within the old city walls. Six- teen years before the eruption Pompeii was badly damaged by an earthquake and practically rebuilt in the new Roman style, the town laid out four-square, with streets crossing at right angles. Architecturally, therefore, Pompeii represents one definite epoch of antiquity. It had the usual Roman forum, with its temples, baths, colonnades, etc.; but far greater interest attaches to the private houses and shops because of the intimate knowledge they give us of the domestic life of an ancient people. UNCHANGING COMMERCE We see their bakeries, in whose ovens quantities of bread were discovered; their wine shops, with casks labeled as holding different qualities—all connected by one pipe; a bank, with its waxen rec- ords of loans, receipts, and the like; shops of dyers, jewelers, sporting-goods dealers, potters, and so on indefinitely. Spirited frescoes decorate stuccoed walls, intricate mosaics make handsome pave- ments, and houses and courts yield up statuettes, images, jewelry, and all the impedimenta of a rich and varied culture. And in the little museum, inside the old Sea Gate, we see even casts of the bodies of the luckless inhabitants as they were found, after eighteen centuries of ashen interment. Where the pretty little modern water- ing place of Castellammare di Stabia, with its cooling sea baths and strong min- eral waters, lies snugly in a little bight 293 on the neck of the Sorrentine peninsula, Stabize once stood. It is one of the very loveliest parts of Italy, a region of tum- bled hills clothed with luxuriant groves of orange and lemon, whose golden fruit adds luster to the gleaming foliage. En- ticing roads of milky white wind and wind, now between high-walled grove and vineyard ; now along open, skyey heights, with the blue sea as a background hun- dreds of feet below, and the beetling cliff rising straight behind; now beside villa gardens, where every brilliant color on Nature’s palette seems to have been poured out with prodigal fullness. _ The air is perfumed, the skies are soft and balmy, the roads superb. BEAUTIFUL CAPRI Capri, a great, twin-humped camel of an island, kneels in the blue just off the tip of the peninsula. From the sway- backed huddle of white, pink, blue, cream, and drab houses along the large harbor, up the breakneck road to the fascinating town nestling among the hills, white- roofed and Moorish, and on, still higher, by the winding road or up the nearly per- pendicular flights of rock stairs, which furrow the frowning crag with their sharp, zigzag outlines, to Anacapri, 500 feet or so above, every step of the way breathes the pride and splendor and deg- radation of the island’s greater days. Here a cyclopean mass of shattered masonry in the warm emerald water tells of a Roman emperor’s bath; yonder on a chimney-like cliff the sinister ruins of a stout castle keep whispers of ancient garrisons and pirates, not armed with automatic rifles or high-powered artill- ery; and here, overlooking the sea, the vast ruins of a villa recall “that hairy old goat” Tiberius and his wastrel vol- uptuousness that turned fair Capri into satyrdom. Capri today is richly dowered for -sightseer, artist, historian, antiquary, and geologist. On every hand are shaded walks and sequestered bowers in the thick groves of orange and lemon, laurel and myrtle; wild backgrounds of tumbled rock; titanic rifts in the coast, into which the sea has thrust long, insidious blue fingers. AMALFI, FROM THE CONVENT OF THE CAPUCHINS Few cities of Italy have more frequently taxed the descriptive vocabularies of artists and travelers than Amalfi. Yet this gem among seaside resorts remains undescribed, for its beauty 1s indescribable (see page 206). 204 Photograph by Von Gloeden SICILIAN FISHERFOLK The deep-sea fisheries of Sicily afford a livelihood for more than 20,000 natives of that historic island. These hardy seamen in their sturdy smacks oftentimes cross the Mediter- ranean to let down their nets in the waters off the North African shore. The tunny fish alone yields an annual revenue of more than half a million dollars. From high in air to below the water- line the island is scarred and pitted with myriad vast pock-marks, some pillared with stalactites and stalagmites, some through which the never-quiet sea moans and sobs with the agonized wail of an hurt monster ; one white, with little pools of pure, sweet water on its floor, only a few inches above the sea; one greener than emerald; one blue as heaven, with row upon row of delicate pink corals and tiny scarlet jelly-fish studding the water- line like jewels, while the refraction of the sunlight tints everything with the most marvelously diaphanous color, through which the silvery ripples of the bottom sand, about 40 feet below, seem within arm’s length. Driving up over the crest of the Sor- rentine peninsula, the Siren Islands loom in the distance, too far away for even the echo of the charmers’ song to be heard. At Positano the road divides into two white ribbons, binding the town to the green hillside. Farther along great holly- hocks burn in somber flame beside the road, and the tallest olives imaginable crane their necks upward from the sea- side of the drive to watch what is passing on the King’s Highway. On by the caves of troglodytes, who have all the comforts of home—little patches of garden, amiable goats, olive groves, and grape-arbors—the road winds in and out, up and down the stern face of the cliffs, rising and sinking in great billowy sweeps, plunging hastily through short, black tunnels, racing around big and little bends. Now it skirts the shoulder of a cliff, with only an 18-inch wall between the wheels and the boulders hundreds of feet below. Furore flashes up at one like a rainbow as he dashes, blinking, out of an inky little tunnel upon a soaring viaduct in the blinding sunshine. A little group of fish- ermen’s houses, clinging to the bare rock—huge gray cliffs beetling up be- 295 296 hind—a tiny strip of gleaming beach, and gaily painted fishing boats beside the dazzling emerald sea—that is Furore! Almost before the details can be grasped one is swallowed up by another inky little tunnel. Picturesque watch-towers stud the shore, ancient defenses against the Bar- bary corsairs. And then presently Amalfi, once the brave little maritime republic that maintained its independence so long in defiance of princes and emperors. In a low cleft of the hills the houses fairly pile upon one another, as though there were not room for them all on the hill- side. Back on the mist-veiled crags loom other towns, and all day long, down the road that winds dizzily among the peaks, come old women and young girls, stag- gering under heavy loads of fagots gath- ered in the woods above the clouds. And when they are not carrying fagots they are always knitting—even when there is no war!+—on the streets, in shops, gar- dens, fishing boats on the beach, gossip- ing by the fountain before the long stair that leads to the stately black and white and mosaic Cathedral of St. Andrew. DESERTED HARBOR OF MIGHTIER DAYS On the road goes, through Atrani of the gloomy arches over the sea beach, past Minore (the Little), where bare- legged fishwives in bright, tucked-up skirts help their men to haul home the nets; around the brilliant lemon gardens of Maiore (the Big) ; to and through the towns of Raito and Vietri, before reach- ing Salerno, where, clinging stubbornly to the hillsides like limpets, the houses rise from the rock between sea and sky, some of them standing half upon the hill and half upon tall buttresses that reach down to the harbor sands. It was Salerno, the deserted harbor of mightier days, that forty Norman gentles, returning from the Holy Sepul- cher in Jerusalem, “‘simply for the love of God” delivered from its Saracen be- siegers. Later these gentlemen adventur- ers came back, simply for the love of the beautiful country, and with naught but their keen two-handed swords and their manhood hewed out a brilliant kingdom for themselves. One of them, Robert the THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE Shrewd, built the gaunt eleventh century cathedral, whose two magnificent am- bones, or reading desks, of snowy marble, richly embellished with Cosmato mosaics, stand forth like jewels in the barrenness of the badly restored, whitewashed, rail- road-station-like interior. OTHER GEMS OF SOUTHERN ITALY Reggio the lovely, overlooking the Straits of Messina, thrown into a heap of ruins by the earthquake of 1908; Palmi of the superb old olive groves and or- angeries, with its feet on the slopes of Monte Elia and its sunny face looking away over the sparkling Tyrrhenian Sea toward peevish Stromboli; Catanzaro, fat and rich and important, given to displaying its beautiful Calabrian cos- tumes of a pleasant Sunday for all the world to admire; Taranto, a carnelian gem set between the two blue seas—the gulf on the west and its own magnificent naval harbor, the Little Sea, on the east— a quaint, out-of-time town, whose nar- row, Swarming streets of insignificant little houses clamber up the splendid rocky islet, once the citadel of ancient Tarentum; Brindisi, Tarentum’s colony, famous from antiquity to the days when the Crusaders’ fleets lay in its harbor, and today a quiet, orderly, busy railway and steamship terminal, and Bari, with a picturesque castle and park and _ its rugged little peninsula, all neatly car- pentered into prosaic regularity down one side—these and scores of others are but some of the facets of the exquisite jewel of southern Italy, which glows and flashes with a different luster for every one. CENTRAL ITALY AND ROME Yet with all its charm and beauty and romance, southern Italy has never forced ahead the progress of the world. Central Italy has. That whole vast historic re- gion has taken a part in world history that achievements of the future can nei- ther dim nor lessen. In some definite and lasting way practically every phase of the life of central Italy has influenced the world for progress—religious, political, scientific, intellectual, humanitarian. The most vital forces that actuate our twen- at: ae! “ > = THE STAIRS TO ANACAPRI Originally Anacapri had only this precipitous flight of stairs to connect it with the world, yet the sturdy peasants made nothing of clambering up and down its wearying heights with heavy loads of their native wines, great bundles of provisions, and other supplies that now come more easily by the winding road (see page 203). to \O N ONVUNG FO GNV’ISI FHL NO ‘SQOWVA SI MOINUA HOH M ee oe he ler MOL HOW WLISINOXA UHL ONIMVIN UBLUMIN By, 3 ‘ iH v5 SO Bit Sb city COSIND ‘ (HON WW ‘Or Aq sydessojoyg wo , IW AULSAGNI AHI, JO Uv Gi x) WTOSHIt J 4 V CRP NGcte) WITVOM LIV Td-MVULS Vv Q 9 ( ¥ S - 4 CALABRIAN TYPES % Photograph by Von Gloeden The olive skin, the ebon eyes, and hair of the native-born son of Italy are as characteristic as his temperament tieth century thoughts and activities are developments of the purpose, ideals, and philosophy of the central Italians, from the days when Roman school - boys scratched caricatures of Christians on the walls of public buildings upon the Pala- tine to the beginning of the decadence that followed hard upon the Renaissance in Florence and her compeer cities. First of all the Italian cities to shake the world was Rome, imperial center of civilization, culture, politics, and religion. Two of civilization’s five periods devel- oped in her and bear forever her stamp and sign. Her first period gave to the world lessons in discipline, centralized government, colonial policy and control, civil law, military science, hygiene, and water supply. The very persecutions of that age stimulated the primitive Chris- tians throughout the Empire into banding together until the early Church took defi. nite shape. The succeeding Roman Cath- 299 olic Church was the tireless conservator of all learning and culture during the perilous Dark Ages—the inspirer, the civilizer, the sustainer. And after that black night had passed, and men began out of ae wreck of the old to build the new, it was still the Church which was able to remodel civilization. GEOGRAPHY S PART IN ROMAN HISTORY Though the situation of Naples, with its enervating charm, worked nothing but evil to that city, the location and phy sical character of Rome—hills for defense, a river for navigation, broad surrounding fields for grazing—proved the greatest asset of her people. It had so many nat- ural advantages that every warring tribe which captured it was itself captured and quickly became Roman, thus making the city always the strongest in the peninsula, because it was the home and fortress of the strongest people. : . te “ ~~ ms , = - we, ait “pi % ae Pa > ins bi an a Aa = ' ne ee - Sp pa mm: cam ph eo tS eS St Se oe Photograph by Donald McLeish A METAL-WARE SHOP IN AOSTA, NORTHERN ITALY The windows are filled with the glitter of cow-bells and metal-studded collars, while milk churns and the huge copper cauldrons used in cheese-making gleam in the dark interior and encroach on the pavement, where the mistress sits at the receipt of custom. 300 Ge Sen? Photograph by Donald McLeish A VALLEY IN THE GRAIAN ALPS ON THE ROAD TO COGNE: ITALY Cogne is the center of a favorite hunting ground of Italy’s royalty. The beauty of the deep-wooded valleys and climbing bridle-paths, presided over by the rugged grandeur of the Gran Paradiso, La Grivola, and the Tour du Grand St. Pierre, makes this a royal region in more than one sense. Some aspects of La Grivola are hardly inferior to the boldness of the Matterhorn. 301 OY} SUIpIeNs s]jIy ond oy} “WOZTIOY oY} UO !JooF SHI Je JOATI oY} YUM ‘(QUOT SUeLIpeT{) OCJEBuy IS FO aIsed oY} suLOO] doUeISIpP o[pprtU HNWOd SVALad * c *SUOT}LU SUICIYSIOM 94} JO UOISS9I0I1d Ssa[pUS dy} SWOS[AM PUL DATOIII OJ SUIIL SNOPUdUIdI] S}f JNO sayIva s419}0g 1G) fo) ope LS WOU AINOM AO VNVYONVd OP clheledetat ae Ae uuUOTO 2) ‘yeqides juoroue ay} uy aony oT, ION EPISU NOSE IUE EIS, IDL 303 And from being the strongest city of her district, and then of her whole coun- try, Rome naturally expanded until she dominated all the world of her time. One of her mightiest weapons was her malleability, her willingness to learn of others, even though her inferiors. So she progressed swiftly, irresistibly, origi- nating here, improving there, experiment- ing yonder, with the result that the ichor flowed from her sturdy veins through- out the whole world in inspiration and example. The charming legend of the beginnings of Rome is quaintly illustrated by the fa- mous bronze figure known as the Capito- line Wolf. For the benefit of visitors to the museum, let me say that the wolf is a very ancient beast, but the twins so naive- ly attached to her are modern additions. The archeologists, alas, no longer permit us to believe the legend, or that the town took its name from one of the twins. Tiber has always been an unruly and turbulent stream; but the sophisticated descendants of the early Romans—who sought to appease his anger by sacri- fices and rich gifts—have restrained him within massive walls. From a height the river looks a huge walled fosse, as if one- half the city were protecting itself against the other. The bridges that leap the tawny flood in noble arches of gleaming limestone and ruddy brick and dark metal—throbbing by day with pedestrians and vehicles and sparkling of an evening with their golden lights—give a curiously different effect: that of stitches binding together the edges of the great gash. At first Roman genius concerned itself only with useful works, such as sewers, bridges, viaducts. The Cloaca Maxima, the great sewer that still drains the Forum into the Tiber, is probably the oldest true arch in Europe, and testifies both to the Romans’ study of Etruscan models and to their skill as architectural engineers. And what aqueducts they built—simple, grand, splendid! Witness the towering Acqua Claudia, 45 miles long, that comes striding over the low, flat Campagna like a giant on stilts—a hundred feet high in places. Water was something every Roman community en- joyed by right of citizenship. Ancient Rome is said to have consumed no less than 340,000,000 gallons of water a day; and one of the most noticeable features of the modern town is the prod- igal effervescence of its water, gushing from fountains of every conceivable size and design. The Trevi is the most mag- nificent in the city, its water — called Acqua Vergine, Virgin Water, because of its purity—the finest. The old Roman baths took a lot of water. The splendid Thernz built by the degenerate Emperor Caracalla had accommodations for six- teen hundred bathers. Beside the baths proper, the establishment included within its area, of about a quarter of a mile square, a gymnasium, athletic field, li- brary, and even a race track. Its ruins tower above the plain today like some mountain blasted by Nature. “ALL ROADS LEAD TO ROME” The time, the skill, the money the Ro- mans put into their highways—among the most remarkable of all their engineering works—are almost incredible. No less than eleven of these great arteries radi- ated from the city—“all roads lead to Rome,” runs the ancient proverb. The most famous, the Via Appia, was built in 312 B.C. It was kept in constant repair until the Middle Ages, and still connects Rome and Brindisi, a distance of 366 miles (see page 306). Though no burials were permitted in Roman cities, it comes as a surprise to find the finest roads lined with the ruins of all sorts of tombs; stranger yet to find that in medieval times the most magnificent of the tombs were turned into strongholds and crowned with battlements. The old- est and handsomest of the tombs on the Appian Way is the enormous circular mausoleum of the Lady Cecilia Metella— more than go feet in diameter—with a frieze of flowers and skulls of oxen. Equally impressive, though not a stronghold, is the slender, graceful, pyra- midal tomb of Sir Caius Cestius, 116 feet high, which stands just outside the Ostian Gate, whence St. Paul emerged on his way to martyrdom. We probably never should have heard of Sir Caius but for this pyramid; the egotism of men some- times lives after them. 304 Rome’s greatest historic and traditional interest centers in the Forum Romanum, once a deep and marshy little valley be- tween the Capitoline and Palatine Hills. In the beginning it probably looked some- thing like one of the present-day open-air markets. But it did not look lke a mar- ket long, for temples and imposing public buildings were added more and more to the shops and stalls until the whole Forum was a blaze of gilded bronze and marble, a magnificent show place worthy of the center of civilization (page 307). And today? Ghosts and ruin! Here in a somber file are the stumps of the columns of the Colonnade of the Twelve Gods. That heavy basement of brick and mortar, with bits of cracked marble still bravely shining on it, was the Orators’ Platform, where Antony came “to bury Czsar, not to praise him.’”’ Across the Holy Way all there is left of murdered Cezesar’s Basilica Julia is its brick founda- tion ; beyond, the crumbling fragments of the palace of the Vestal Virgins, where a few melancholy, shattered statues of the high priestesses of this pure and lovely cult stand tranquilly amid the desolation. STIRRING THE POETS’ IRE Every foot of ground in the Forum has interest, much of it tragic—like the bar- ren spot where, tradition says, Virginius snatched a knife from a butcher’s block and slew his beautiful daughter Virginia, while Appius Claudius raged in impotent fury; or the Vicus Tuscus (Tuscan street), where the shopkeepers stirred the poets to ire by using their precious manuscripts as wrapping-paper ! And hither and yon, from Palatine to Capitoline, from Tabularium to Colos- seum, only ruin—brick, mortar, marble, columns, arches, statuary —all desolate and forlorn and broken. And the lament- able part of it all is that it was not the northern barbarian who accomplished the greatest ruin, though he did his share. For a thousand years any Roman who wished to build church or palace simply came here, tore down and carried away whatsoever he would. Worse yet, con- tractors actually demolished whole struc- tures—to burn their marble for lime— and eventually peasants turned the buried waste into a vegetable garden and a cow- THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE pasture. It was not until 1870 that the Italian Government began systematic ex- cavation and unearthed the present pan- orama of destruction. ARCHITECTURE THE KEYNOTE OF ROMAN CHARACTER The Romans were late in developing artistic genius, for first of all they were men of action: fighters, strategists, poli- ticlans—imperialists. Their work reflects them—their vast strength, their love of lavish adornment, their lack of true re- finement, and their carelessness of subor- dinate detail. Simpson points out in his History of Architectural Development that had they possessed the artistic sense of their Greek neighbors their architect- ure would have been the grandest the world has ever seen. The greatest sig- nificance of the Roman gift to art lies in its universal distribution, for while the Romans laid their heavy yoke upon all nations, at the same time they dissemi- nated their laws and art—perhaps I had better say the art of Greece, adapted and generalized, made fit for cosmopolitan acceptance. For all the destruction and moderniz- ing that has transformed the Eternal City, its ancient magnificence crops out in unexpected places: in the blank wall of the Stock Exchange, eleven columns of Neptune’s temple; in a narrow street, twelve arches of the Theater of Marcel- lus, filled with workshops; again, a few forlorn survivors of the once splendid Porticus of Octavia, and so on. At the end of one of the massive stitches that span the Tiber the gleaming solid marble of the exquisite little round temple of Mater Matuta—or whatever it may have been called—gems the bank like a great pearl. A few paces farther along, thrusting indomitably up from the level of older days, all the beauty of pure lonic ideals is crystallized in the so-called Temple of the Fortune of Men, soft-hued tufa and weathered travertine. The two stand al- most intact, because of the early Chris- tians whose eye for beauty—or was it their practical sense?—seized upon and preserved them as churches when the old gods ceased to call. Copyright by Keystone View Co. A CROWD IN THE CONCOURSE OF ST. PETER’S WATCHING THE SMOKE FROM THE CHIMNEY OF THE SISTINE CHAPEL In choosing the Pope, the cardinals, who are the electors, are locked in the Sistine Chapel, which stands between St. Peter’s and the Vatican. None of them may leave and no person may enter. If a cardinal is obliged by illness or accident to leave the conclave, he cannot return. After the ballots are cast and counted, they are burned, if no choice has been reached. The smoke issuing from the chimney above (to the left of the obelisk) is evidence that the ballot just taken has failed to elect. It is said that two years of balloting were required to elect Gregory X, who was absent in the Holy Land as a crusader at the time of his eleva- tion, 1270. 305 “(€0F ased 99S) I Jops0q yey} Squo} s[qerouMUUT dy} Pues ‘oUeISIP dy} UI sule}UNOUT dy} ‘spnponbe FO sums sy yA ‘vusedurey oy} ssotoe AVMYSIY Jvots sty} Aq SpoAvI] OYM oY SB 9WIOY FO ATOJSIY OY} 9ZI]PNSIA [JOM OS ULI 9UO ON ‘ISIPULIG PUL WNHJUOASUdG 0} PopUs}Xo PAPA\Jo}ye seM J ooUOYyM “ende) 0} peor ArepyIu B sv) “gq TIE UT pojonsjsuoD seM AVA uvIddy oy], MONV ESIC AHL NI WIIALAW VITIOWO JO ANOL AHL HLIM “ONVILSVEES NVS GNOANA@ AVM NVIddV MEHL { al 3 6 ‘(Poe a8ed 90s) *q ‘Vy SEI ‘urjd uMO suvTIpeT] 0} Surpsosoe ying ‘yoeq 0} youq sasde out ‘gy, duo} eyqnuop v “eULOYY pure snuaA fo o[durs TL, JUSIYIUSCLU S$ ULIIPe ET FO o}IS IY} STOAOD FT “STOL ‘eUuIIpey Aq ST IPVIL FI oY} yn ‘QIZI ul PotO}SOT SUM YOINYD oy, “VAON BULL vpUeG AT[eUISTIO ‘VURWIOY, VOSoULA,T VIULG St AIJJo [NJ1Nvoq oy} YM Younyo oy, ‘soyore asoy}y sv uvds sures oq} Sey Sojo9g JG JO SuypNVaA-oAvu oy J, “Joof 1gz Aq JooF OOE “SOurljuv{suUOD FO BoT[Iseq oY} OF SuUOToq JJ] JY} UO SoYoIe Jwots OT, ‘sivok poip “UNL ANOF-APUOMY TIJPV Ayo 9} SOATOS []S FEY} JOUULYS & *‘poyona}suos SEM VUIIXETY POvOT) oY} ‘O19Y poMoY dU IVY} SUIVITJS IIIT OY} UIVIpP OF, “ANILWIVd HHL NIAMLIA WALL AHL AAOAV LAAT 72 ‘AAITIVA AHSYIVW HONO V :‘TTIH ANILVIVd AHL WOUl WOAXOL NVWOU WHI, Wpo4rquy “_ [rasp Aq ydessojpoyg STIIH MNIIINOSH GNV “INIIOLIdVO olds a q Nees ee 307 sqyuIeg *(60€ o8ed 4x0} 908) ‘q “Vy 6F1 ur payoydusoo sem FO sonjeys Os[e pu Ofasuy FO Sonzeys [esso]OD Uo} sey 4H] AWOU :(@NOL $NVINGVH ATYXNAOT) OTIONV ,INVS JO HIMSVO NV WSdrdd WAL Miettinen Te ~cccntestidran lini one mma ‘STOSSQOINS PUL F[ISWIY IOF Quio} Vv SB ULIIPeH Aq yimnq ‘apiseo ayy, “Hed pur Jo9joq “A}ID OY} YPM GUO} STY JOQUUOD OF UIIpPeTT Aq WMG A][BUISIIO SLA. dOpliq SIT, 308 NEP OSU NUS INOS ILI, CALC 309 The largest and most wonderful of all Roman temples was Hadrian’s Pantheon, with its carelessly attached but splendid portico from a century-older temple of Agrippa. What walls—2zo feet thick, and highest on the outside, to weight down the haunches of the concrete dome that covers the building like a huge shell! One hundred and forty-two feet six inches the rotunda stands, and 142 feet 6 inches the structure measures in diameter, so subtly designed that although the walls are half- domed and half-vertical inside it looks as if the dome began right at the floor. The beautiful and subtle effect of the lght- ing, from the single eye in the top of the dome, has never been excelled (see page 308 ). THE PANTHEON’S DESPOILIATION Though the Pantheon has been a Chris- tian church since the seventh century, it has suffered most at the hands of Chris- tians: the dome stripped of its gilded bronze titles to decorate Constantino- ple—incidentally, the Saracen pirates rifled the bronze en route, and it never saw the Byzantine city—and the portico robbed of its ceiling and bronze girders to make cannon for the Castello Sant’ Angelo, Hadrian’s transformed tomb. Not much remains of the exterior gran- deur of this once most magnificent mau- soleum in the world. But nowhere else can the history of ancient and medieval Rome be read more vividly than in its battered remains. Within and about it Roman and _ barba- rian, Pope and Emperor, struggled and fought Tome 5OO, years. On top or the castle still lie piles of cannon-balls made, in time of stress, from the beautiful mar- bles with which Hadrian adorned his lavish memorial. THE MILITARY MONUMENTS Magnificent columns and arches to com- memorate their military exploits appealed strongly to the pomp-loving Emperors. Trajan obliterated a hill 142 feet high to build a private forum, the most splendid architectural achievement of the Golden Age of Rome. The sole majestic sur- vivor of all that lavish display is his su- perb column, on which every phase of war—triumph and defeat, whirlwind charge and stubborn combat—is depicted with brilliant realism in the broad band of dashing, vigorous reliefs that wind from top to bottom. The most perfect example of the colos- sal type of triumphal arch is that of Titus, destroyer of Jerusalem. Erected in 81 A. D., it stands near the end of the Sacra Via, beautifully simple, tremen- dously impressive—one lofty arch be- tween two terrific masses of masonry decorated with pilasters. Superb high- relief panels—a specific creation of im- perial Rome—depict the sack of the Jew- ish capital, the Emperor’s triumph, and such historic loot as the great seven- branched Hebrew candlestick. The Arch of Septimius Severus, though much larger, is not so good, while as for the very finest arch in the Empire, built by Constantine the Great in 312, it is neither the construction nor decoration that most impresses us. It is the fact that close to the Colosseum, that bloodiest and most depraved institution in the Eternal City, Constantine, the first Christian Em- peror, defying old gods and degenerate Romans alike, dared record his belief that he owed his victory over the tyrant Max- entius to the Divine power. THE HOUSE OF DEATH The most imposing theater ever erected by mortal hands, a grim house of death, consecrated by blood and tears, the Col- osseum stands today a stupendous monu- ment to Roman pride and degradation. Almost a third of a mile in circumference, it towers 157 feet up into the air, the original and monumental “play to the gal- lery” of popular approval. In 80 A. D. Emperor Titus opened its history with a tremendous inaugural of an hundred days of “games,” in which men fought with other men and with wild animals, and no one knows the exact tale of the lives snuffed out on its bloodied sands ‘“‘to make a Roman holiday” (see page 311). In the construction of the Colosseum its builders adhered to their new note of superimposing the three Orders—Doric, Tonic, and Corinthian—an idea that has exerted a greater influence upon the de- sign of monumental works than any other O10 Roman innovation. But who thinks of that, standing before it today with the golden Italian sunshine glorifying every scar, and conjuring back from the dead past vivid spectacles of Roman holidays full of noise and color, laughter and bloody agonies ; or when liquid moonlight transfigures the classic ruin into a magic fabric where stalk the thin ghosts of saint and vestal, slave and Emperor? THE UNDERGROUND CITIES OF THE DEAD Nature has been kind to the Palatine, that hill where dwelt the shepherd kings and where later rose the tremendous pal- aces of Emperor after Emperor, by cloth- ing its scanty ruins with lavish verdure. The silence of oblivion broods over the fragments of the halls where Domitian played with his fleas and Caligula bathed in shimmering seas of minted coins. The most compelling thing upon the whole bosky hill is the little stone altar chiseled: Set Deo, Sei Deive—to the Unknown God. This was really the shrine of the pro- tecting deity of the city, the patron god of Rome, and only the priests knew ‘the dread spirit’s name. It was never writ- ten, but handed down verbally from gen- eration to generation, because, if the com- mon people knew whom they worshiped, any traitor could reveal the sacred name to an enemy, who might bribe the deity to forget Rome. What a contrast!—the home of the Unknown God on the pleasant hillside, in the sun-sweetened air, and far under- ground, pent in the damp chill of the Catacombs, the altars—often the sar- cophagi of martyrs—of the stout-hearted who worshiped the Known God. Originally cemeteries, perfectly well known to the pagan authorities, these re- markable vaults and galleries and chapels, 20 to 50 feet below the surface, became hiding places for the faithful in time of persecution. More than forty of these cities of the dead, which extend around Rome in a great subterranean circle, have been explored, and it has been estimated by an Italian investigator that between six and eight million bodies were interred in them. Not only are the tombs hewn in tiers THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE along the walls of the galleries, but the galleries themselves are in stories, one above another, in one place seven tiers high. Their decorations range from mere daubs of red paint, telling the name of the deceased in a given tomb, to elab- orate frescoes. Above. ground there seems a great gap between the temples of the pagan city and the existing churches of Christian Rome, since all the oldest churches have been destroyed. This gap, however, is at least partly bridged over by the Catacombs. ST. PETER’S CATHEDRAL, It would be as impossible to give an adequate idea of Rome’s multitudinous churches as it would of the enormous quantity of art treasures in the museums, or an adequate and intelligible idea of the city’s unique and marv elous history. The overpowering monument of the Church of Rome is St. Peter’s Cathedral—the tangible evidence of the evolution of the early Church into the present-day world- encircling spiritual power. Many an architect had a share in its building, but all that is admirable may be accredited to two: first, Bramanti, then Michelangelo, who planned that vast dome, Joating lightly as a soap-bubble above the roof. What a pity that the last architect should have spoiled its effect by cutting off the view of the whole lower part by a lengthened nave and statues 19 feet high above the facade! (see pages 302-305). About 80,000 persons—nearly a sixth of the entire population of Rome—can gather in this huge cathedral. The vast nave stretches away tremendously im- pressive under its magnificent barrel vault, 75 feet in span; yet so perfectly is the building proportioned that only when standing beside a given detail can one grasp its real size. Nothing but a cata- logue could describe the great interior, with its lavish mortuary monuments to dead Popes, its magnificent bronze balda- chin, its celebrated effigy of the kissing ceremony, its amazingly perfect mosaic copies of the paintings of the old masters, which have been removed. Nor could any pen picture a tithe of the glory of Michelangelo’s frescoes in THE COLOSSEUM FROM PALATINE HILL: ROME Could the walls of this great structure speak, what tales of anguish and of debauchery they could give us. The Colosseum was dedicated in 80 A. D. with gladiatorial combats lasting a hundred days, in which 5,c00 wild animals were killed; history mercifully is silent as to how many human beings gave their lives for this Roman holiday. For three and a quarter centuries man and beast here were forced to die that a conscience-deadened people might laugh. 311 “WdY} OWL} pu Jiu A[poploop ArOA uvd Ady) “PIG ur urese pue ‘0061 ‘laqWds0(] Ul UdoS SYM S¥ ‘SpOOH JsoYySty oY} YOoyYD JOUURD SJUdWIYURQWID [eNULISqNS Iso} O[IYAA “OSSOF PoT[eM ISNY & OyI] SYOO] AAI oY} JYSIoy & WOT “S]TeM DAISSVUL UIYJIM JI PoSO[IUI DALY SURITe]] UJOPOU OY} Inq ‘WeoIIs JUO[NGiny pue AjNAUN ue Uddq SAVAMTL SPY JOLT, VY, HNOY :’TIH ANILNAAV AHL GUVMOL ONIMOO'T “WAAL AHL MOIIGIV “d [Ug Aq ydesB0,0yq 312 Photograph by Von Gloeden THE SERENADE Music is as necessary to the Italian people as are their mild wine and spaghetti the Sistine Chapel, of the frescoes and paintings and other treasures in the Stanze and Galleries of Raphael in the adjoining Vatican; indeed, of any of the wonders of either Papal Palace or Ca- thedral, save only the enthralling pros- pect from Michelangelo’s dome, 400 feet above the pavement. Below, Bernini’s huge colonnade, the grandest Doric peristyle since the Par- thenon, extends its giant arms to gather the worshiping nations to its heart. The river, guarded by the mighty cylinder of the Castello Sant’ Angelo, glistens like a strip of curving asphalt after a summer shower, as it winds between its fortress walls. All about on every hand glows the turbid monotony of orange-brown tiles, broken hither and yon by round dome or square campanile, by the green of gardens and the gray of open squares, with the ancient streets cutting it all into erratic patchwork; and beyond the city, the flat monochrome of the Campagna that tones away into the hazy mountains, those looming Alban hills whose wander- ing sons begat all this—Rome! ST. PAUL’S-BEYOND-THE-WALLS St. Paul, too, has his memorial, on the spot outside the walls where he is said to have been buried, a church that outranks all other basilicas in vastness of size, grandeur of plan, and magnificence of adornment, with eighty granite columns, rich old mosaics, and a frieze of mosaic medallion portraits of every Pope, from St. Peter down to Pius X. Adjoining the church are beautiful cloisters, cool and refreshing after the ornate interior. Graceful columns surround them in couples, here plain, here twisted into fanciful contours, here richly encrusted with Cosmato mosaics. They give both charm and distinction to the now silent close where the monks of old used to take their sober pleasurings. Modern Rome is as the visitor, and he would be a hardy soul indeed to say how and where the city most interestingly dis- 313 UOT}edNIDO ULUIOY, JO SOIOWUI IIO}SIY YIM S9AOIS UOW] puv asurIO JO sodeospury pue sjoodsoid ourseur yO somneoq [einjeu possedinsun dy} SUIUIqIOD ‘sJIOSOT URTRI; SUOWR WIS JUISEPLL UL “OJUIIIOS SUT YIM 0} YOOL IY} SIOMO} ‘OpuvAr) VULILPL dy} Ul SUIpUD “OUTALI Uto}s I ie PLUS 312 ‘ > op SKS OM oy pure Ki IOGQICY y[eus,, STU} ul SOJCUTUTLOY YOM JUIAT LT U1OJSCO oly UdIIMJOIET OLNANUOS :YOMUVH ‘TVIVWS V ‘V’IOOOId VNINVIV 2 314 “NOLS WO SMOO'TA TILIA VIIA SUTAW JO SMOVA AHL NO dA Luonoud MIM OLNANMOS LV AAVIO GH NO GQaLOwwa SHOIMIGH WHI, wo 7 T Ly aes S y . wOLO W ANILNALMOS 315 O16 closes itself; whether in the surging life of the Via Nazionale or the Corso, each with its restless tide of cosmopolitan hue ; the Piazza del Popolo, with its diurnal passeggiata winding up the steep slopes of the wooded Pincio and through the formal gardens; the Piazza di Spagna, where the ardent kodaker finds ample quarry among the picturesquely costumed artists’ models who loiter about the flower market on the steps leading up to the quaint old church of the Mountain Trinity ; the Seven Hills themselves, or the lower quarters where the crowded masses herd in noisy camaraderie. To each who sees it all comes a different 1m- pression of the sense and purpose of the ever youthful city of the hills. THE SPIRIT OF MODERN ROME But equally to all who stand of a sunny day in the garden of the Knights of Malta, on Aventine’s crest, and look away through the leafy lane among the trees, comes the sense that here, regardless of the vivid life of the city below, is visible the spirit of the true Rome, of the Eternal City ; for off in the near distance, framed by the branches of the little park, floats the dome of St. Peter’s triumphant above man and all his works; as proud, as vast, as massive as ever Italian art could make it; sign and symbol even yet of the char- acter and force of the city which for cen- turies has molded not only her own sons, but stamped an ineradicable impression upon all civilization. THE DESOLATE BEAUTY OF THE CAMPAGNA The picturesque desolation of the Cam- pagna, dotted with the summer straw and wicker huts of the peasants instead of the villas of the rich and noble ancients, is swept about by mountain, forest, and sea, gemmed with sparkling lakes and pocked with dead craters and splendid ruins. The planting of eucalyptus trees and systematic drainage is working bravely for a reclamation of the marshy plain to its flourishing condition when, as ancient Latium, it gave the Romans to the world. To the southeast the extinct volcanic Alban Mountains form a striking back- ground for equally striking towns—Castel Gandolfo of papal fame, with its huge THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE palace dominating the somberly lovely Lake Albano, darkly cupped by the lips of an extinct but forbidding crater; and the serene, pellucid sapphire of the Lake of Nemi, “Diana’s Mirror,” hardly ever kissed by the faintest breeze. Its lofty lava walls are so precipitous one marvels at the daring, skill, and patience of the peasants who have so wonderfully culti- vated them. On the east the Apennines come down to the Campagna in the abrupt Sabine Range, beautiful, heavily wooded, copi- ously watered limestone peaks. Tivoli is cradled like an eagle’s nest high among these sheltering hills, moated about on three sides by the foaming impatience of the Anio, that bursts violently out hither and yon in long, snowy pennons of flying spume. The precipice is jeweled with the mutilated little temple of the Sybil, the town ragged and twisty and instinct with charming irregularities and _ contradic- tions; and the great, gloomy, neglected Villa d’Este is magnificent yet with the saturnine beauty of its dusky cypresses and ilex, gray olives and heavy hedges. Small wonder that Tivoli and these lovely Sabine hills drew the ancient sum- mer colonists, or that a mile away Ha- drian himself should have erected an im- perial villa that was a marvel in its day, and now in ours is only a confusing, con- glomerate ruin among weedy gardens. THE GRIFFIN CITY OF PERUGIA Away to the north and west stretches that most delightful and suggestive re- gion, Umbria, well called the “Galilee of Italy” because of its holy men and women. It is a green and brown land of isolated hills, each crowned by its special type of city, and of rolling meads_ be- tween; a rich and fertile land, full of the quiet, pastoral beauty that infuses the work of the Umbrian School of painters ; a land of cities romantically unchanged. Of all the Umbrian communities, the Griffin City of Perugia is the most inter- esting, the bloodiest, the most compelling. Here again we have striking proof of the value of geographical location. Much of the power and eminence of the city was due to its situation at the juncture of several long spines of hill, 1,200 feet high, commanding the Tiber, that winds Photograph by Von Gloeden YOUNG ITALY There are nearly one-tenth as many Italians in America today as in Italy itself. The vast sums of gold that hard work and hard living enable the Italian to save up and send home, where a quarter looks as big as a dollar here, is the best immigration stimulant there is. That accounts for the fact that we were increasing our Italian population at an average of 16 per cent a year during the twenty-five years before the European war began. 317 caleSIog,, sit] JO yonur usm savy 0} pasoddns st yood yeo1s oy} s19YM 0014) S$ uoIkg,, SI ONJoIG UPG FO YOINYD oY} YJousq SYOI OM} UVIMJO “OPTAL spivA OgI ATUO peas Be Aq viIIeUeq JO PULIST dy} WoIZ payeiedos st 4] ‘SlIOUD \ SHIJOG JWopue ot} JO }S OY} UO ZINq sr aseTTIA onDsoanqoid sty} “AyeI] JO JOGreY [eAeU Foy 9} ‘vizodQ WoO1F peorysty Aq soyptut WIAIG WIGUVW ONOLLOd SLI VOT GALVALATHO “AWANHAOLMOd 318 SIVA ISU] SOJOSULIYIIPY FO 9VJOS JoryS ‘VUUO[OD) VIIA PojEs puv [HyyNvoq oy} ‘MoprM poyerqo[oo A[enbs s[vaouss oy. poary PLOY PUL ALISA IP ISoPAV] ‘[LAMUIG poPaqaoo oy} UsOd svar ‘sopdeN JO soqivy oy} YO eis] JO purjst oy} soyeurwop yoiyM ‘proySuosys VIHOSE FO WILSVO WEHL SIq} Uy 319 320 at its feet, and two great Roman roads. Today it sprawls about its hilltops, for all the world lke some uncouth sea monster with thick, wavy legs and arms flung out in groping search for prey, bolstered up here, braced there, underlaid yonder by tremendous masses of masonry. The old towers and donjon keeps, once the most distinctive features of its nar- row, tortuous streets, have most of them vanished ; others have been beheaded ; but the whole aspect of the town is even to- day military and despotic; and many a house still shows traces of the heavy chains that barred the dangerous streets after nightfall, when, if a man forgot his steel undershirt, he came home in a shroud! Even the quaint and beautiful friezes above some of the doors, with Latin inscriptions and mottoes, cannot abate its severity. Here one reads Pul- chra janua ubi honesta domus (Beautiful the door of an honest house), there So- licitudo mater divitarum: (Carefulness is the mother of riches), and over a church lintel the pious Janua Coeli (Door of Heaven). The old, joyous life of the city centered in the Piazza del Duomo. Here the gentle Perugians played at their game of hurling stones at one another until often a dozen were killed and scores wounded. But that was Perugia! And what of the in- nocent looking iron fence about the cen- tral fountain? Many a time its spikes have borne the bloodied heads of nobles, stuck there by other nobles whose turn was yet to come. No wonder Perugia needed porte del mortuccio — special “doors of the dead’’—tall, arched, nar- row; walled up now and easily passed unseen. At one side of the Piazza is the big, unfinished Gothic Cathedral of San Lo- renzo, with its beautifully carven choir stalls and that graceful little open-air pulpit, leaning slightly toward the sun, where St. Bernard preached to an unre- generate people and watched the books on necromancy and the ladies’ false hair burned. THE HOLY CITY OF ASSISI Across the fertile vale softly colored Assisi, the Holy City, the town of the Saints, the mystic heart of Umbria, THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE stands upon its hills, and high above all, like a Titan smitten by the thunder, rises the grim, austere old ruin of the Rocca, that castle the Assisans regretted as bit- terly as they had longed fervently for its protection. In the plain below, the little river Tescio winds and twists in bur- nished zigzags that flash the golden sun- light up against the oak and vine, corn and olive clad slopes of the hills. There is hardly a more medieval city in Italy in aspect than Assisi, and this quaint idea is intensified by the burrows that run in a perfect labyrinth beneath the level of the twisty, narrow, shut-in streets—hiding places into which, before the city was fortified, the frightened citi- zens could pop at the first sign of an ap- proaching enemy. It is a city of churches and confra- ternity buildings, held even yet in the spell of St. Francis. -And not of St Francis alone. His ideals and work so moved the rich and lovely Clara Scifi that she forsook everything in life to be his co-worker and inspirer. Like him, she founded an Order—the Poor Clares— and lies today in the simple church that bears her saintly name, embayed among the soft gray olives on the hillside. THE PREACHER OF POVERTY’S CENT CHURCH MAGNIFI- It was the glorification rather than the spell of St. Francis that inspired the genius who, at the very tip of the wedge- shaped town, gave his mighty vision play in the amazingly strong and beautiful Church of San Francesco, the first Gothic church in Italy—a vast double pile, one church above another—with a magnifi- cent monastery sweeping down its side. It stands solidly upon massive substruc- tures among the gnarled old olive trees of the slope, so perfect in design and lo- cation that from every vantage point and in every light it is new and different. But what a church, what a monastery for the preacher of poverty! Within, from floor to arches, Italian painting was reborn in wondrous frescoes that “spoke to men who could not read but whose hearts received teaching through the eye.” Cimabue, Gaddo Gaddi, Giunta, and the greatest of all, Giotto, covered these walls with pictures that had far more than mere decorative signi- ficance. For the first time in the story of Chnistiane age. the whole Christian be- lief was summarized in such a lifelike, nat- ural way upon these acres of walls that it sufficed for both the spiritual and material ei education of the age, =— and indeed even for S ourselves. =— Far nearer to the Franciscan ideal is the desolate hermitage of WemiCarcerh tay . out beyond the town in a bleak, wild gorge, where the eye can hardly distinguish man-made walls from Masta Tock!) St. Francis loved to retire to this barren solitude for meditation when the battle he fought against worldliness and sin impaired his physical and spiritual vigor. About the Carcer1 grow somber ilex trees, beneath which he preached his sermon to the birds, and above all rises the jagged peak of Subasio, gray as the monkish habit. It is the abode of silence and of peace and memory. Indeed, that is Assisi—mem- ory, silence, peace! SE scccuanesesy’ = i — exec = —— — i in z 2a ‘© THE QUEEN CITY OF TUSCANY Northwest of Umbria, Tuscany unrolls a panorama of surpassing beauty and contrast, from the grim Apennine crags on the east, downward in a gentle slope dotted with hills, watered by innumerable streams on every side, to the blue Tyr- rhenian Sea. It isa region sharply marked and richly diversified, the dry beds of prehistoric lakes near certain of its cities and toward the coast forming little plains that serve to intensify the =] THE PIAZZA DI SAN MARTINO AND THE HOUSE (IN CENTER) WHERE DANTE WAS BORN: FLORENCE more rugged charm of its hilliness. Tus- cany’s three great cities—Fiorence, Siena, and Pisa—stand opposed in every re- spect: in character, appearance, history, and interest today. The story of Florence is the story of humanity: the broad, deep, moving epic of the awakening of man to his own di- vine power; the story of wonderful self- made men who had but one idea in com- mon—the thirst for free activity of soul. So the tale of the New Birth, the Renais- sance, 1s the record of individual spirit so free, so subtle and elastic, so profoundly penetrating to the springs of human pur- pose, that it has furnished the motive power of the world ever since; and Flor- ence, as its source and focus, because of "(oz ased 908) JOquAs Suljjy V o1v ‘ISISSY Je SUTWIOO]A *SoSO1 sSo]UtOY} SJUIvS 9} YA. JO SsoujoOMsS pPuL Ajnvog v ‘sau} JoNIO ‘opn4ty oSOY} UL OFT] SI pepIns Jey} Wsipopr [NftopuomM oy} pur SIOURI,T “FS JO Sotto I[Ot PUB UISTOTJIISV UPI AyyedwiAs JO JNO J9AIMOY *APOGATOAD PUL FUOTSII IY} SOPVUILUOP JVY} a[}SVI [VAVIPoU e “WUE 9t]} Ul PUY JSNUL “UOHOAIP SNOLS! sydjans) ay} JO Sassnajs ay} ul Apo oy} Aq posed qaed oy} sy[Poos ULLIOISI oYT Songer) pu OYOL) JO S9oIso.1} . ae dU} SAIIA OY SB SouTpoqyr) pur ay} UL S}YStpop ysyse oy} SApNyS O} Soy IAMYo IYJOL) Jo]pIXa OAY JsvoT 4 spuy Jose Twat’T SE, NO SIONVUL “VS JO AWIISVNOW WH ONIMOUS “SINJIALI] JO SPULY ][V O} SHO1OUIS ST ISISSV IL ‘ISISSV ZO VINVUONVd V « iy LPP ek dg goal AIA LL ERIE A WINE MERCHANT OF FLORENCE The wine of the country is put up in these two-quart flasks and sent all over Italy, vith very little breakage the conditions then obtaining in the city and throughout Italy, was the one spot in the world capable of producing such an epoch-making upheaval of human con- sciousness. WHY THE RENAISSANCE BEGAN IN BLORENCE And all this astonishing genius grew directly out ofi—business! The city was peopled by men who manufactured the necessities of life, by merchants, specu- lators, bankers, tradesmen, artisans, handicraftsmen of every type. Business, work, was a condition of active participa- tion in the life cf the State, and because they did not work, the nobles were de- barred from this. It was the burghers, the people, who ruled; and even when evil chance laid the State under the heavy hand of a despot, he was forced to de- velop his own character to the uttermost, because his rule depended entirely upon his capacity as a man. The aristocracy, accordingly, was that of intelligence, of to (oS) men who became eminent because, first of all, they were the best in their own indi- vidual work. Under the practical inspiration of these mental giants, Florence was _ recreated and learned to view life from within i1n- stead of superficially; she learned that the individual is the soul of the State, and that the State can succeed only when it ts true to the best interests of its individuals. And the Renaissance, the new creation— was it merely a wonderful: revival of learning? It was infinitely more: it was the freeing of the human spirit from shackling bonds of medieval tradition. superstition, and misconception; it was the dawning of the mental liberty we en- joy today; it was the beginning of the third distinct period Italian genius gave to civilization, the greatest period and the greatest gift of all; it was the launching of man’s greatest and most heroic adven- tuUGe: The severe grandeur of medieval Flor-- ence still gives a specific character to the: dY} 9 0} oanjzord oY} UWI SdOdsoIF dY} DAdTTOq syste SOT "PZUdILT ep VaIpuy JO YIOM ‘QANJOIPYOIV ITyJOL) UBOSH, at I } JO JuR}XO ce) jdurexo 4s 2) le TONAIOT i: VIIMAON VIUVA VINVS JO HOUNHO AHL NI TIONDVdS TIDUd THdVHO AHL AO | u I MOLY NI if y 2) l I } se Pep 1 onal Sot ST Yo wy ANYO SIU, 22 IONE PSU MOK IOI BILE INN 325 town of the Guilds. Its palaces; its bridges, the sweep of its Lung’ Arno, its embattled visage with the souls of the houses peering from behind their iron bars at the blue hills, are still the same. The proudest jewels in its crown are the three great buildings in the Piazza Duomo. Oldest of these is the beautiful octagonal Baptistery, with Ghiberti’s per- fect bronze doors. “They are fit to be the gates of heaven!”’ young Michelan- gelo cried when he saw them. The cathedral, Sta. Maria dei Fiori— as much a feature of the Florentine land- scape as a man’s nose is a part of his face —looms large from any vantage point, its buoyant dome floating airily above the marble paneling of the soft- colored walls. It fills one with admiring astonishment for its symmetrical dimen- sion, its perfect poise, its grandeur, its everlasting strength. is Giotto’s Campanile, slender and strong and graceful as a young maid beside her portly mother. Richly “ornamented with bas-reliefs and statues, the superb bell- tower is a marble history, left standing open for the delight of appreciative readers (see page 320). THE CHURCH OF THE BROKEN HEARTS As a general thing the intellectuals of Florence went calmly on with their cre- ative work, unmindful of the tumult about them. Not so Dante. With all the fervor of his artistic temperament, he plunged into the thick of politics, in the endeavor to save his beloved city from being torn to pieces, and was exiled be- fore he reached the zenith of his powers. Broken-hearted and bitter, he died at Ravenna in 1321, and his ashes are still there; but in the old Franciscan church of the Holy Cross rises one of the two monuments disdainful Florence conde- scended to give her greatest poet, whose greatest honor lies in his gift to the world at one splendid sweep of a pure and recreated iene language—until his time halting and feeble—in that immortal masterpiece of literature, the Divina Commedia. This church might well be known as the Broken Hearts, instead of Santa Croce, for near Dante’s cenotaph lies the body of that other terrific genius, Fit companion to it, Michelangelo, who, broken in spirit, died gladly when the city so dear to his heart fell once more upon dark and tyrannous days. And Galileo is here, too, and Al- fieri, and Macchiavelli, and many another, a brilliant train. Michelangelo’s last work is in the Church of San Lorenzo, in the mortuary chapel of the Medici—the great house which deigned to favor him with its pa- tronage or its enmity throughout his life. He did not make portraits of the statues over the tombs of Giuliano and Lorenzo, son and grandson of the Magnifico. When some one remonstrated, he teplied with haughty carelessness that he did not suppose people a century later would care much how the Dukes looked. Most prob- ably they didn't! While he was working in the mauso- leum the Medici, who had been expelled for the third time, came thundering at the city’s gates. Always a strong re- publican, Michelangelo engineered the fortifications by day and worked stealth- ily on his statues by night. Florence fell; her sun had set; and the tombs became less a monument to the tyrants for whom they were reared than to his cherished city. And so he wrought, not the still beauty of the Greeks, but the symbols of his own desperation in the marvelous Twilight and Dawn, and Day and Night upon the tombs. THE UFFIZZI AND PITTI PALACES In the two great palaces of the Uffizzi and Pitti are gathered the most inspiring collections in the world of the works of the geniuses who made Florence the peer- less city of art transcendent, and left be- hind them models for all time, not merely of» material beauty and perfection in painting and sculpture, but of thought as well—Fra Angelico of the sexless, radi- ant angels ; Lippo Lippi of the daringly human Madonnas ; visionary Botticelli; del Sarto of the soulless, exquisite tech- nique as smooth as Nature; emotional, precocious Correggio; and Raphael, greater than all, summing up in his swift, apparently effortless mastery more than the genius of all the rest—color, propor- tion, beauty, intellect, spirituality, and rare human kindness. Florence wears a splendid living girdle Ajjzod Joy opisoq preur sunod & sv suoIS pue Jopudsys ‘OIL poyaod S}f UOISUSUNIP [BOTAPUULUAS SJE FO ISUOS V UPA “JULIE Sc€ ased {4x0} 00S) ,JoOUr uvdweg $001) St jf 0} uOoTURdOdS YT “YISud1]S SuysejIoAo pue IMopULIs Ss} ‘osiod [SIUOJSY SUTIIWIPe YA 9UO SY pue osiv~ SuLOCT yt uIOd oseyUuvaA AUV WOT} W9G,, TONIMOTI :SYIMOT AHL JO AdVT UNO AO IVICA TIVO AN 89 BR 20 pue SISnU Joy} YA § -O1ny, JUOSoId oY} UY Av S MOIOWILIOC, SHOW] dy} UL odeys JUOUPUIDd Yoo WY} dsoy} Suroq sor10js 9y}J—Sur]Jo}-A10}S puv Surysvoy Iloy} “surouep ) OY} FO AOIIOY OY} UJYSI] OF 9AOIAIS AoY} ‘Woy? Joy TV ywop puvw sursojns YIM ‘SyJUOU DAY AO,T “Uoye} sey AeM uvod VAT] OIOLU POKOAJSOP puv QPeT ul odoinyy JUOMS onSL] Yovpq oY} UoyM oonjor YOO} suoruvdusoys si puv OlovVdM0g 919], QONUUOT -IMAIW’1TVd VIIA WIL, = My E ae e 328 in the silvery Arno, barred with many a stately bridge, bordered on either hand by the broad, plain edging of the Lung’ Arno promenade. With the measured tramp of the soldiers and the squeal of their angry-sounding bugles—and the sol- dier is always in evidence in Florence, even in times of peace—we may well imagine ourselves back in medieval times. The illusion of the medieval is even greater by night, when the bridges set twinkling coronets over the sparkling stream, and the mysterious military fig- ures marching past might be the halber- diers and pikemen of Lorenzo Il Mag- nifico, instead of the Bersagiieri of Vit- torio Emmanuele III. THE GREAT GUILDS The Ponte Vecchio, with its queer, cov- ered, second-story passageway between the two palaces, 1s a pure delight, its little houses looking so insecurely slapped against its sides that they seem always threatening to come off and drop into the stream (see page 330). The inside of the bridge is equally cu- rious, with its beguiling shops of jewelry and precious stones. Since the fourteenth century it has been occupied by the Guild of the Goldsmiths, one of the original societies of Florentine labor and science. These guilds were the prototypes of our labor organizations and played a promi- nent part, not only in politics, but in the artistic development of the city as well. This interest of the working people was one of the great reasons for the suprem- acy of Florence in the field of art. THE PALAZZO VECCHIO AND SAVONAROLA In the old, battlemented Palazzo Vec- chio, which still rears its created head in the pride of militant beauty, we may say that Florentine history was made from the beginning of the fourteenth century down to the unification of Italy under Victor Immanuel II of Sardinia. It stands on the Piazza of the Signoria, the great forum of the people. To one side is the Loggia dei Lanzi, a splendid, open, vaulted rostrum or platform, now an open-air museum of sculpture. Among the figures is the beautiful, if somewhat affected, Perseus of Benvenuto Cellini, a master work that has been copied all over THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE the world. It was in this piazza that the austere monk, Girolamo Savonarola, who towers above the most splendid figures who have peopled Florence, gallantly died by fire. : : The most charming and_ attractive mural decorations in Florence are the fig- ures and groups of glazed white terra- cotta, usually on a blue ground, largely the work of the della Robbia family. They star the walls of churches, palaces, chapels, with their sympathetic, floating figures, and from the spandrels of the battered, grimy old Hospital of the Inno- centi—the first real Renaissance struc- ture—a lovely band of Andrea della Rob- bia’s swaddled infants gaze out, extend- ing tiny hands in mute supplication to the hard-hearted. Luca della Robbia worked well in both bronze and marble before he began his work in clay, as his exquisite singing and dancing boys, panels once on the choir screen, and now in the cathedral museum, attest (see page 329). SUNSET IN FLORENCE Though the sun of the Florentine re- public set nearly four centuries ago, the sun of Nature still continues to set over the city as it did in the days of her glory. Cross the river, and wind slowly up the lovely, rose-hedged, tree - embowered Viale dei Colli to the Piazza Michelan- gelo, high above the city, to see the Mas- ter Painter spread his wonder-palette at the close of day. The sun steals down toward his cool bed in the silent Arno above the bridges and the dusty town. The bluish green of the river fires with molten gold—bridges and towers and roofs are etched sharply black under the flaming canopy of the heavens. For a moment Florence glows and darkens with the spell of a more than earthly transfor- mation. Then the shadows lengthen, deepen. The dim and distant hills fade into ob- scurity. The Genius of the Dark throws his azure mantle over city and plain, and Florence lies wrapped in the subtle in- tegument of night. Out in the gardens the sparrows twitter sleepily, a chill little wind ruffles the smooth cheek of the Arno, the edges of the clouds are tipped suddenly with silver, and a flood of WY Uys Yj THE DANCING, SINGING CHILDREN, BY LUCIA DELLA ROBBIA, IN THE MUSEUM OF THE CATHEDRAL: FLORENCE Authorities agree that “the naive charm of childhood” never has been portrayed better than in the ten groups of reliefs of which this one is represented. They are regarded as unequaled alike for the naturalness and truth of the figures and for the grace of movement and form they possess (see page 328). 329 “(gz pue gzf sosed 90s) ATeyy Ur U99s aq Kew yey} sewesoued Ay19 SuTyIIS sour sy} FO OUO ST TIOpOwW Wot} JO owos ‘sospliq AuULU SPI YIM OUTY JOA Ot} PUL ‘Sqnday OUMUSIOPY oY} FO SoUDISTUTUOT S}t U}TA foro A, CZZR[P D1 Or)-URT]LI] O}ISINDXO S}t YIM ‘Qpruvdure,) AJO}EYS IY} ‘QUIIO] T JO [efpoyyeg pedojedq oy} JO otuop TONAUOT JO MYA IVYAINAD V Srna, JO oulos pue pjoO Wot} Sursodut IY} “Soroov.ty JUIOYIUSLUL IY} IUO YL SUIMOYS “A\OTA SILT, fo) 2) ioe) I ( - ‘ ‘(gzf ased 998) soSpriq Urdpour d10U OM o1v OTYDIIA 9IUOT oY} PUuosDG “SUOTPIITJOD FAV JwWo1S oy} udoMjod AVM 4sozI0YS dy} [HS SE pue ‘sooulid prpopy oY} JO 9UO JO SuIppoM oY} TOF BING sv Soovped OM} dy} UddA\Joq AvMoSevssed A10}S-PUOSIS dT, “JUoWUOL AUP ye WWRdI}S oYY UL SUIVE JO JoSuLp UL Suro JO UOISSodWUIY oY} OUO DATS AoYY WY} ospliq po jurenb oy} JO sopis oy, OF ponys Apomoosur os updos sosnoy oy], WON GRLO'TT 2 MLA SE, SSOMOV TOW ITVd Wid CH WIM IZZ1NIN TH ONILOUNNOD AVMAOVSSVd WilddNA GUWIAOD SLI HIM OLHOOWA WLNOd WIL, UNV ONYWV WHAT WILL 331 PROAREN if a ; 4 ae an seepage ENN THE BACADE OF THE CATHEDRAL: SIRNA The design of this cathedral, had it been completed, would have produced one of the largest churches in the world. But the plague of 1248, wars at home and abroad, and, most of all, the native variability of the Sienese temperament, interrupted its construction so often that it finally remained “unfinished and bizarre.” But “it is incongruous with genius, not with stupidity” (see text, page 339). oo (os) 1) The SN oe = THE INTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL OF SIENA striped effect of this interior was obtained through the employment of alternate white and black blocks of marble in the upbuilding of the supporting columns 333 ‘o1OY Ud9S 9q OF MOU pur ‘oWOY Jv PpuNOF ,soovi4 oy} Jo dnoiy,, v WO1} ONbAUe oY} FO Sorpnys Jsay sty] oprur oaAvy O} pres st javydey “podAsosoad ypoav pu poriod OURSSIVUOY ATVI oY} FO St AIVAGT] poyeaqajoo sry y, VNWIS IVYIGMH VO UH, FO AMVUMALT aI, a iH ile a ee 2 HEAD oo) a ee JONI OSUAO SINUSES, IEAM NZ argent glory bathes the scene. Again the river awakens. Lights twinkle gaily throughout the city and gem the bridges with diamond sparklets of fire. Florence that lived and died is alive again, the city of unforgettable glories, the city of art transcendent, the city that gave so much to make life worth while today. ON THE SLOPES BEYOND Everywhere about Florence milk-white roads wind out through gardens along undulating slopes dotted with cypresses, up through olive groves that glisten a gray green in the sun, past white villas, where bright-eyed lizards bask on the shimmering walls. One of the most attractive is the great Palmieri Villa, where Boccaccio and his companions are said to have fled when the Black Plague of 1348 swept Europe, and, to pass the weary hours, told those stories which took permanent shape in the Decameron. Farther out, on the slopes of Fiesole, Lorenzo the Magnifi- cent built his favorite villa of Careggi, in whose spacious halls and gardens he gathered a court of artists and poets, ma- gicians and sculptors. On these same lovely green and white slopes, where Nature has so lavished her floral gifts, the peasant lads are still the same simple, unaffected children of the sun and the soil that Giotto was when Cimabue found him sketching his sheep; and the great milk-white Tuscan oxen, mild and patient, toil steadily through the powdery white dust with their primitive, lumbering carts, probably the same as the ones used in his day. DREAMING IN THE SUNSHINE High among the rich vines and olives of the farthest slope Etruscan Fesule, or Fiesole, that gave Fra Angelico to the world, dreams in the mild sunshine. It is not much of a town today, this little set- tlement of straw-weavers, with its houses so tightly shuttered against both heat and cold they look like robber strongholds. But Fiesole was old and important before the shining city beside the Arno was born. Bits of its cyclopean Etruscan walls still stand, and one may sit on the grass-grown steps of the Roman amphitheater on the we Vl slope below the medieval cathedral with its stalwart campanile. Velathri, or Volterra, of magnificent views, on a commanding, olive- dix emi- nence in the province of Pisa, was an- other great Etruscan city—one of the most powerful of the Twelve Confeder- ated Cities of Etruria. It is medieval to- day, with picturesque towers and houses, and a beautiful thirteenth century cathe- dral and babtistery of black and white marble. But the everlasting megalithic Etrus- can walls, 40 feet high and 12 feet thick, ae still largely standing along their 41% miles of teapot- shaped circumfer- ence, their most important feature the Porta dell’ Arco, an archway of dark- gray stone 20 feet high, with corbels on which are still dimly visible chiseled heads, possibly the stern gods this van- ished people worshiped. We have learned much of the life and customs of the Etruscans from their tomb-paintings and the articles that now fill the museums—we know the ladies used mirrors and curling-irons; we have seen the children’s toys—but though we have found long inscriptions, no one has as yet been able to decipher more than their letters ; the words still veil the story in them. ; THE “FRIVOLOUS GENTRY” OF SIENA As in the cases of Rome and Perugia, Nature provided for Siena a position that was the commanding center of all her re- gion: a lofty tripart ridge, dividing the network of streams that flow to both north and west; but she withheld the one further thing needed—water. Not only were the near-by streams mere brooks, affording no means of communication with the surrounding country, but there was not even enough water for the city’s supply. Patiently engineers searched the hills for: amy) trace of “the precious fluid, and with remarkable skill brought the flow of every available spring into sub- terranean conduits that still move us to admiration by their cleverness. Once, when they found an extra drop—enough to furnish a thin stream for a new and lovely fountain—the whole city carni- THE PARISH CHURCH OF SAN GIOVANNI: SIENA Built after 1317, and formerly a baptistery forming a sort of crypt to the cathedral, San Giovanni is distinctly medieval. The unfinished Gothic facade is another monument to the instability of the Sienese. The most interesting art treasures of the interior are works of Ghiberti and Donatello. THE WELL HEAD IN THE MONASTERY OF MONTE OLIVETO MAGGIORE: NEAR SIENA This Benedictine monastery is one of the most famous in Italy. It was founded in 1320, and although the lands surrounding it had a sterile chalk soil, the monks converted them into a veritable oasis of fertility. 337 THE PALAZZO PUBBLICO: SIENA This striking structure, built of brick and travertine, was completed in 1305, being now more than six centuries old. The tower is regarded as one of the finest in Europe. William Dean Howells says of it: “When once you have seen the Mangia, all other towers, obelisks, and columns are tame and vulgar and earth-rooted; that seems to quit the ground, to be, not a monument, but a flight.” PINE DGIAUS PIB MPA TE ys valed for two solid weeks in joyous aban- don, and named their new treasure the Fonte Caia! It was a typical celebration of this kindly, simple, provincial folk whom Dante patronizes a little sorrowfully as “frivolous gentry.” With the natural gaiety and mercurial temperament of impulsive youngsters, gaily they began, and as gaily forsook an object. Their very cathedral, unfinished and bi- zarre, is one of their most characteristic records, incomplete as the men who stopped building at it when adverse cir- cumstances damped their juvenescent en- thusiasm. It is a building of contradic- tions and excesses, neither Romanesque nor Gothic, but of both schools, tinctured with Lombard and Pisan peculiarities; a tremendous pile of black and white mar- bles, mostly wrong in its fundamentals, and yet, in some intangible way despite all its shortcomings, it makes as distinct an impression as a Roman triumphal arch, for it 1s incongruous with genius, not with stupidity (see page 332). Not all Siena’s children merited the great Florentine’s epithet ; certainly neith- er Pope Pius II nor St. Bernardino could be accused of frivolity, and the mystic Ste. Catharine, greatest, perhaps, of them all, despite her humble origin in a dyer’s family, lived a short, beautiful, tremend- ously effective life, and left her impress upon both her Church and her city for ages to come. SIENA AN ART CENTER With its many beautiful palaces and churches, loggias and fountains, Siena ranks immediately after Rome, Florence, and Venice in the importance of its art during the thirteenth to the sixteenth cen- turies. The whole city is instinct with character—a maze of fascinating streets winding and twisting about behind stout stone walls that rise and plunge down over the rough and broken hillsides. It is the Middle Ages personified, its palaces of a later date merely adding a touch of Renaissance méringue to the solid medie- valism that finds its most vivid expres- sion in the Piazza del Campo, that unique, almost semi-circular, square in a pocket at the juncture of Siena’s three hill-spurs. 290 339 Here the hot-headed Sienese used to revel in bloody, joyous, free - for -all fights, first with staves and stones, later— because of too numerous casualties—with their bare fists. Today the citizens con- tent themselves with a pageant and horse- races, in which for the moment the campo is gay with reminiscent glories. Siena makes rather a pathetic figure in history. While the Florentines possessed enough imagination, initiative, and deter- mination to accomplish whatever they set their hands to do, the Sienese, lacking their mental discipline, developed to a certain medieval standard and stopped growing. Even during the Renaissance, when all the rest of Italy was striking boldly out under the inspiration of Flor- ence, Siena contented herself with out- worn traditions and a fierce, passionate jealousy of her mighty neighbor that ended with her own eclipse ; and once the Florentine supremacy was established, Siena became what she is today, merely a fine old provincial town full of glorious art and memories. It is of interest to note that the under- lying cause of all the jealousy and the bloody wars between Siena and Florence was pure commercial rivalry. THE FIRST OF THE MARITIME REPUBLICS The first of the north Italian States to be mistress of the seas was Pisa, a river town, then only two miles from the sea upon which she so gloriously proved her strength in the troublous days of the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth cen- turies. Her monumental buildings, though they are within the circuit of her ancient walis, stand clear of the city proper, happy in their isolation; and no one who is drawn to Pisa today by the fame of their dazzling splendors can fail to read in each and every one—cathedral., campanile, baptistery,and Campo Santo— the record of her maritime successes. The cathedral was founded in a burst of popular enthusiasm after the great naval victory over the Saracens at Pa- lermo, Sicily, in the eleventh century, and the Pisans brought home no less than six whole shiploads of loot—bronzes, col- umns, gold, and marbles and precious stones—for its decoration. Inside and out it rises in layers of black and white *(6€€ a8ed 99s) OOgI DUIS ddUapIsqns 0} onp Sulaq St} JO soyout g ‘1epnorpusdiod oy} JO INO Joo} VI STAT “Joojryore oy} FO ied dy} UO UOTUDJUL JO UeY} JoyjeI suUOTRpUNOJ SUIyUIS Jo IMSot OY} SI uorisod quinjd-jo-jno sjr yey} poydoooe AjjeJoues MOU SI JT “A}IACIS JO SMT oY} FO SOTPNys Sif Ut uorisod onbijqo s}t JO Jposut] popreae Os]I]et) ‘OS€1 Ul pojyojdwos sem ‘opiuedmey punoy JO “1OMOT, Suluve’] OY], “JO}IWILIP Ul Joof OOI SI i{ “ESIL Wor} Sayep (puno1s5a10F Joy ay} ut) AtoST} -deg oy, ‘apqseus oytyA\ FO AToINUS JSOW]e PIJNI}SUOD ST 4] ‘CQO Ul AJOJIA [VALU JEoIS SLSIq JO VOT}PIOWSUIUIOD UL IM SeM [BIpSyzeS oT VSId JO YWAMOL ININVAT UNV “IvadtHLvo ‘AUALSILAVEI AHL marbles; masses of rich Corinthian col- umns and arcades, colored mosaics and ornaments of antique pattern, diversify its wonderful facade— the crowning glory of the edifice—and from the crossing springs a huge dome that adds both dignity and height to its basilican form. Within, swinging pendulously among the red granite col- umns that support the roof, is a beautiful and = farina otis) old bronze lamp, whose fame is based upon the gentle oscillations that set Galileo to thinking out the pen- dulum. Incidentally, this is not the lamp; it was an older one. Not wonly. did. the cathedral mark the naval and maritime achievements of Pisa, but it also stood for a magnificent beginning of medieval Italian architecture —a__ be- ginning and a promise which, unfortunately, were never fulfilled. THE INDIVIDUALITY OF ITALIAN GENIUS How strange it seems to us today that the great city-republics of Italy never seem to have thought of permanent con- federation, but only of conquest! When a temporary alliance was formed, as was often the case, it was invariably for the destruction or subjugation of some sister city, and dissolved as soon as its purpose was accomplished. This lack of Italian unity in politics explains perfectly the failure to develop a national style in architecture. Such a development re- quires the codperation of a whole peo- ple, working together sympathetically toward a common end, as was the case Photograph by Von Gloeden VIRILE YOUTH AND WRINKLED AGE The folklore stories of the peasant patriarch stir the lively sense of humor of the younger generation in France during the development of the Gothic. This never occurred in Italy, and so whatever great architecture we find there is the work of individual genius. But however much architecture suffered from the general disunity, exactly the opposite occurred in painting and sculpture. These are always the result of special personal ability. Accordingly, the Italians, be- cause of their strong individuality and their political systems, which made them, as individuals, able and eager to think for themselves, rank as the foremost painters the world has ever seen. About a century after the cathedral was begun the baptistery was founded, a jopesep AroA9 uONRndod oy} 0} UOT] OM} SuIppe ‘SsuIMo1S UO sdoay Aye} JOA puy ‘adoanyy + - JUSUTUOD dTOYA oY} Sv AULLU Sv 9dTM} ULI} DIOUI ‘Poof 0} SYJHOU UOT]IGq BV oAvY PyNOM aA ‘A]R}T Sv poazeyndod Ayasuap se sa}zVIG poyUP, dy} AIVII JO HIDNYULS GNV ALAVAL AHL uapaoyy uo A Aq sydeasojoyg is} sr ise) ) NEES meas sly Ale 7 343 magnificent circular structure surrounded completely with arcades and crowned with a soaring dome of majestic propor- tions and height. Splendid adjunct to the cathedral as it is externally, it is the dazzling interior we can never forget, with its wonderful mosaics of colored stones and its glorious hexagonal pulpit in which Niccola Pisano foreshadowed the Renaissance. Most remarkable of all the superb group, however, is the exquisite, colon- naded, white marble campanile or bell- tower. It was intended to be perfectly erect, but by the time the third story had been built the foundations of the south side had subsided and the structure leaned heavily. To prevent it from falling when completed, the Pisans inclined every story above the third slightly toward the north, and the flag-pole and the heaviest bells were placed on the safe side. Yet, despite the correction in its inclination, it leaned 14 feet out of plumb a few years ago, and because of further subsidence of the foundation grave fears are felt for its safety (see page 340). PISA OF TODAY Alongside the cathedral, to the north, is the Campo Santo, or cemetery, every inch of whose sepulchral soil is holy ground, brought from the Holy Land. Its cloisters are now a museum decorated with the trophies of antiquity and re- search, the walls covered with remarkable frescoes. The city offers little of its once pictur- esque fame as a town without houses, but full of mighty defensive towers. Most of them have lost their heads, but some re- main to hint of the desperate internecine struggles that raged betimes in the dark and airless streets. The old battlemented walls that hemmed them in still stand, lofty and scarred and patched. Outside the rich plain waves with whispering grain and vines, and is odor- ous with the aromatic, balsamy breath of the pine forests that reach down toward the sea, whose ungentle winds have tortured the ancient trees into un- couth gnomes. Near by, about the royal domain of San Rossore, the fields and roads are picturesquely dotted with camels—the only herds in Italy—and the royal race horses. © It is impossible to express in a few words the charm of northern Tuscany, with its wealth of walled towns, its me- dieval architecture, its luxurious and stately villas and gardens, and the fresh, clean, joyous greenery of the country- side. In such a setting as this the thorny outcrop of factory chimneys would move a Ruskin to cry “Detestable!” The chim- neys are detestable, as landscape, but the industries of which they are the symbol are the life of the region. AMERICA IN ITALY No less surprising is the fluent Ameri- canese that everywhere greets the ear, tripping gaily from the tongues of count- less americani, as those Italians who have been to either of our continents are jocu- larly called by those who have not. Inci- dentally, many of the chimneys are the property of those repatriated americani. In every town that amounts to anything at all the neat factory girls and men give the morning and the evening a distinctly American sense of rush and scurry—in sharp contrast to their leisurely neigh- bors—as they obey the big whistles that cut through the melodious appeal of the bells with their imperious summons: “Come! Plunge into my noise of loom and machine, my roar of furnace and grinding of gears, my smoky plumes that are the aura of gold. Forget your dolce jar mente of, the *past. “Look to the future. Work — hurry — make progress or die. Be independent—and happy!” THE BIRTHPLACE OF RAPHAEL To the east of Tuscany is the province of The Marches, high and rugged ground with a narrow strip of coast along the Adriatic furrowed by little river valleys. Its one large seaport, Ancona, is magnifi- cently situated on the slopes of Monte Conero, with its citadel on a peak to the south, the cathedral on a similar height to the north. Between spreads the busy town, fringed by its harbor full of ship- ping. Hundreds of vessels of all the flags afloat discharge great merchandise of coal and timber, jute and metals, and take in exchange the black and smelly asphalt and the white and odorless cal- cium carbide. SOU] JEM UI soSejuvApe Arey 1Or1adns pue soyei uorezsodsuesy Mo] ATSurpuodsasr109 YM ‘skem -19]VM PULIUL I[GeSIACU JO SaTIUI puURSNOY} OM} 9UOS A1ZUNOD dy} FO UOTJDIS JeY} SUIAIS SNY} ‘SIOALI S}E SUTJOIUUOD sjeUuRD STIVNVO LINVIMOdWI SAIVII NYXHINON JO ANO ONIMOHS ‘INIWIM JO MUIA V Aurel sey ATP} UsoUION 344 JONMERCISLA US USE PAUL Se The town is full of dark, narrow, crooked, very medieval-looking streets— just the ideal place to stimulate the imagination and fire the talents of its greatest son, Raphael, the greatest painter who ever set brush to canvas, Not far away, on the Adriatic, is the birthplace of the composer Rossini, the town of Pesaro; and then, farther along- shore, between two brawling streams, Rimini the beautiful and historic, termi- nus of the Roman Via Flaminia. Here, too, the Via A‘milia starts to the north- west. The pedestal commemorating Czesar’s passage of the near-by Rubicon, the great and elegant triumphal arch of Augustus, and his superb, five-arched bridge over the Marecchia—one of the noblest works of its class in the Roman world—still remain to give us the flavor of the brilliant and constructive Roman era. RIMINI'S ARCHITECTURAL GEM But Rimini’s grip upon the imagina- tion is due to a love story that came much later, as the beautiful Church of San Francesco so eloquently testifies. It is an astonishing little gem of an unfin- ished Renaissance temple, built in the middle of the fifteenth century around a Gothic church two centuries older, by the tyrant Sigismondo Malatesta, a great prince, a great patron of the arts and letters—himself no mean poet—a great warrior, and a man of wild passions who loved fiercely and often. His church was built ostensibly as a thank offering for his safety during a dangerous campaign, but it actually cele- brates his mad love for the beautiful Isotta degli Atti. The architect gave ex- pression to his patron’s passion by vari- ous ingenious and effective devices: the ceaseless repetition of the initial mono- gram J §S, the arms of the pair—an elephant and a rose—and the figure of the archangel upon the altar—a por- Hai OLmEnemMoyelyalsottas oI years after the strangling of his second wife, Sigismondo leisurely made Isotta his new consort. The story of Francesa da Rimini, one of the tragedies of the ill-starred house, so many of whose members perished by 345 violence, was immortalized by Dante in his Inferno. RAVENNA OF THE BYZANTINE ARCHITECTURE Originally “a city in the sea,” like Venice, and well-nigh impregnable, Ra- venna stands today in a marshy plain six miles away from the coastline. Once a mighty capital, the city also maintained a commanding position in art and letters during the Middle Ages. According to Professor Ricci, Italian Director General of Fine Arts, “the most beautiful, the most complete, and the least impaired monuments of so-called Byzantine art are preserved” here. Mosaics might be called Ravenna’s dis- tinguishing feature. In one of the city’s earliest and most interesting buildings, the fifth century tomb of the Empress Galla Placidia, they stand sharply out from a wonderfully blue background. They are still more beautiful in the cathedral’s baptistery of the Orthodox, and full of a clearly Roman spirit of stateliness and unaffected simplicity, while in the handsome octagonal Church of San Vitale they glow with a superbly rich and gorgeous coloring, especially of the costumes. Church after church is adorned with them, and with exquisitely translucent ala- baster—behind which lamps were set— rare cipollino columns, and panels, statues, and screens of other precious marbles. Ravenna itself has been stripped of much of its beauty and importance by the withdrawal of the sea, but none of its significance, for its grand and _ stately buildings link the Roman and Byzantine styles of architecture perfectly and give the art-lover of the present both inspira- tion and delight. A ROAD 2,100 YEARS IN USE Exactly 2,103 years ago Marcus A‘mil- ius Lepidus assured his fame forever by building the long, broad, straight road from Rimini through the cities that are now called Bologna, Modena, Reggio, Parma, and Piacenza. The road was named for him, and it still traverses the district of A‘milia, a favored region of natural fertility of land and intelligence WHERE THE CONCORD OF SWEET SOUND IS A RELIGION When Music was young, her abode, according to the poet, was Greece; but long since she was lured by golden-throated sopranos and soulful tenors to the more congenial clime of Sunny Italy, where every street urchin is an embryo opera star. Perhaps some inglorious— but not mute—Verdi or Puccini, Tetrazzini and Trentini, may here be pictured, lifting their voices in joyous song to the accompaniment of the idolized accordion. of inhabitants. Perhaps its prosperity may be assigned as much to the tide of life and commerce that flowed along the Roman road—its work is largely done today by the railroad that parallels it— as to its natural resources ; but whatever the basis, the fact remains that. 4“milia is full of cities of artistic, social, and manufacturing importance, rich in paint- ing, architecture ake sculpture, and gifted in innumerable other ways; for, unlike some other provinces, milia has never concentrated all its abilities in the greatest towns, but diffuses its energies so that all centers, of whatever degree, have an interest and importance that is almost unique. Bologna, as important a railway center today as it once was a halt on the Roman roads, is a remarkable and interesting town. The old Roman section, of which nothing remains above ground, is the heart of the city, easily recognized be- cause its streets run at right angles and all form a big rectangle. 346 rain nor snow, nor even wind, bothers one much in Bologna, for many of the streets—most, in fact— are beautifully arcaded, and one may go, untouched by varying weather, under the shady overhangs of shop and palace, mansion and public edifice, as they make aisles beside the nave of the sky-roofed highways. The big, solid piers shadow the pave like a modern awning-stripe gown, and the pleasant afternoon and evening life of the Bolognesi, gossiping and taking their refreshments at little tables in these endless galleries, is very delightful. The arcades originated as snow-sheds to shelter the houses from the blizzards that sweep down from the northern slopes. Many of them are very beauti- ful Renaissance structures, with elabor- ately carved capitals. The queerest things in town are the two square brick leaning towers, Gari- senda and Asinelli—intoxicated obelisks, one complete, the other unfinished. They - Neither sun nor THE LEANING TOWERS OF GARISENDA AND ASINELLA: BOLOGNA These columns are distinguished as the most extraordinary structures in one of the most venerable and important cities in Italy. The taller is Torre Asinelli, 320 feet high and 4 feet out of the perpendicular; Torre Garisenda was never completed and is only 156 feet high, but 8 feet out of the perpendicular. There is something unnatural and sinister in their appear- ance, quite different from the effect of the leaning tower of Pisa. Dante in the “Inferno” compared a giant bending toward him to Torre Garisenda in a cloud (see page 346). 347 } Wt} J9AO WOIUIWOP jenjadied pue [NyIYSII $A}19 OY} JO Wo]quio UB SB SoA 9} OJUL PjOS JO Surr & ysvd ATUUITOS 980] 9Y} Voy Maltese Islands Valetta © Malta Pelagie Islands OUTLINE MAP OF ITALY From the Beginning Nature Set Italy Apart. See pages 273, 274, and 270. 360 JON ED IBLAVUS SIMBAD, IIANE NZ setting of one of the world’s largest and most remarkable cathedrals, a_ battle- ground of the past, with many a stirring and bloody field to remember, the most beautiful lake district in the world. It has also been a mighty force throughout Italian history. Geographically speaking, the Lombard plain, bounded partly on the south by the Po, in part on the west by its large af- fluent, the Ticino, is'a rich and fertile agricultural country, very hot in summer, but exposed in winter to bitter cold and fierce mountain storms. Below the mountains there is very little rain in summer, but, thanks to the medieval sys- tem of irrigation, which has no superior anywhere in Europe, it is almost impos- sible for the crops to fail. They grow in three tiers in Lombardy— pastures in the mountain regions, vines and fruit trees and chestnuts on the lower slopes, and shining acres of cereals and grapes and innumerable spreading mulberries in the plain itself. But it is not quite the same Lom- bardy now that it used to be, for the medieval sheep for which it was so cele- brated have all turned with the centuries into—silkworms ; eugenic worms at that! The greatest care is taken in crossing and breeding the native worms eugenically with perfect Chinese and Japanese stock, with the result that the Italian worms are steadily improving and producing more and better silk. Beside its agriculture and silk indus- tries—Milan is the principal silk market of the world—Lombardy is perhaps the most important manufacturing region in the whole country, with great factories turning out hats, rope, paper, iron and steel, cannon, linens, woolens, and what- not; mines from whose depths come cop- per and zinc and iron ores; quarries that yield ample marbles and delicate alabaster and the sturdier granite. MILAN AND ITS CATHEDRAL The first thing to strike one in Milan is its air of cosmopolitan—I might almost say Yankee—shrewdness and bustle in business. ‘The commonplace streets are lined with good shops, and the energetic people give them the appearance of the 361 streets of a big American manufacturing city with a large foreign element. Milan was built in a fairly regular polygon, surrounded by walls, and the walls by a moat. The former have moved out into the country a bit, but the moat is still there, inclosing thorough- fares that turn and twist like cowpaths, though from the Piazza Duomo radiate some that are newer and broader. But one does not consider streets when he reaches the piazza, for there, white as salt and delicate as a gigantic filigree jewel fresh from the hands of the silversmith, the Cathedral of the Nascent Virgin, a miraculous stalagmite, yearns upward toward heaven with every slender, arrowy spire and shaft and pin- nacle (see pages 362-363). In many ways it is not good archi- tecture, and inside it is monotonous and barren; yet notwithstanding every criticism, despite obvious faults, the Ca- thedral of Milan is a marvel. More than 4,000 statutes poise and hover about it; its lines tend upward as resistlessly as the spears of a field of wheat; the very num- ber of them adds to the illusion—a great work of Nature about whose feet the hu- man ants in the piazza have dug them- selves in, reared their tiny hillocks, and gone bustling and struggling about their tiny affairs in its protecting shadow. THE BATTLEFIELDS OF LOMBARDY The plain of Lombardy is as dotted with battlefields as most other plains are with ordinary cities, and whichever way one looks from Milan some famous day is almost in sight—Solferino, Magenta, Rivoli, Lodi, Pavia, Novara—fights that were not the mere bickerings of bloody- minded local despots, but combats that shaped or shook international affairs. Beside or upon almost every field rises a city either lovely to look upon or fasci- nating to read about. Many other towns there are, too, of beauty and interest — Bergamo, gifted with an acropolis and old walls turned into promenades loved of lovers; Bres- cia, beautifully situated at the foot of the frosty Alps; quiet Cremona of the silk-mills and palaces; little Tavazzano, where the whole plain is grooved by ‘S[eapl JeinqooyyoIe Sodoiny JO IIesOW Vv ji DYRUI OF PalOde] S}Io}IYIIe UOT, pur ‘oie ‘URITeI] “oye Sty 0} sojduio} sueW JO [NjWNvoq sou dy} JO QUO Se AePO} SpuL\s ‘YSIF{ ISOPY OY} FO drysioOM oy} url toyJesS Avu apdoad 000‘OF YSTYM Ul ‘URIIPY FO [e1psy}LD 94} ‘SMOPUTIM SSEIS-PoUIL}S JUIYIUSCU S]I ‘I]GqIPU Lit Sonye}s 1Ol1o}x9 OOL'Z sj} ‘sojovuUTd FO JSoIOF SH YM NVTIW ;OWONd VZZVId ANV ‘IVYGHH VO AHL P] OY} JO OAS PoystuYy oy} [JV ‘opqavur poysiyod JO ssouazpYM SuTUodysi[s oy} [fe Soory Jo Aovoyop oy} [ew oavy opoeuurd puv ssoiynq fo sotssovsy OY, QISHY U9ZOIT,—UOAIIOSsap SNOWY] S}r JO AYJIOM dANPIPYIV soyvur jey} Surpusyq snormousey oy} fo [pe ‘weasp s.10}dpnos IWUGHHLVO “LOMHAONOM S NW TIN ZO JOON HHL JO NOILOWS V qo1qpy ‘q Tuy Aq ydeisojoyg 363 SGVOW AUVLVIN AUNId TV FH Ni WO UNO NO AYALIVA NIVINOQOW NVITIVALL 364 INE XA S REBUT hAL Y countless and endless little irrigation ditches ; Monza, where King Humbert I|’s crown was snatched from him by the as- sassin’s bullet. Garda, Idro, Iseo, Como, Lugano, Mag- giore, and Orta! How can any pen give a true picture of these exquisite sheets of water, now sapphire, now emerald, now iridescent as opals in the sun; here bound by wild, irregular shores, here by lux- uriant gardens; splashed with the color of countless sunny villas, red-roofed and tinted of wall; guarded by old castles that molder in grim beauty upon their grimmer heights !* SUPERB VISTAS The islands afford superb vistas of shore and mountain, but the climax is the panorama from the top of bald, windy old Monte Mottarone. From its bleak crown the eye includes in one splendid sweep the lovely lakes and the whole vast plain of Lombardy and Piedmont, with the white, glistening, pin- nacled jewel of Milan Cathedral resting lightly as a white dove in the center—the genius of Man complementing the glori- ous works of Nature. It would be difficult indeed to find two other contiguous regions so entirely dif- ferent geographically as the two north- western provinces of Italy, Piedmont and Liguria: one a vast bowl, into which are gathered the slender little blue threads that unite in the greater cable of the mighty Po, thus once again emphasizing the geographical dominance of that re- markable stream; the other almost all straight up and down—mountain piled upon mountain, with a narrow strip of littoral which takes tribute from all the world—the Riviera (see map, page 360). Around three sides of the Piedmon- tese bowl the Alps fling a towering barrier, leaving the fertile, rolling plain open only toward the valley of the Por on the east, One feature that, at- tracts attention inevitably is the way it is settled. The people live in villages or communes almost entirely—a condition due to the unfortunate insecurity which *For a description of the Italian lakes and Verona and other towns of northern Italy, see “Frontier Cities of Italy,” by Florence Craig Albrecht, with 44 illustrations, in the June, 1915, NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE. 365 for ages made the peasantry huddle to- gether for mutual protection. GENOA “LA SUPERBA”’ Piedmont never touches the coast, and what it has left, mostly mountains and beach, makes up the narrow province of Liguria, whose boundary leaps along the mountain tops like a frightened chamois. It is a region at once remarkably favored and hindered by Nature. Near the middle of the strip is Genoa, the only great community on this rugged coast, a wonderful crescent city climbing the hills which protect that magnificent harbor the Greek adventurers of 2,500 years ago discovered and settled. Be- hind the town, now close to the houses, now in wide open spaces, a mighty de- fensive wall runs along over hill and dale for nearly 12 miles, defended by the great fort called the Spur and by many a stout little battery and fortress. The ancient part of the town huddles, cramped and crowded, in many-storied houses on the steepest, crookedest, most Dark - Ages - looking streets imaginable, some of them mere flights of stairs up stiff acclivities, others mere bridges over menacing miniature chasms. In brilliant contrast to all this, the newer city devel- ops broad,. handsome thoroughfares and solid, well-constructed modern buildings. Genoa is the chief seaport and com- mercial city of Italy, with a harbor and port facilities which have been extended and expanded again and again in the effort to keep pace with the steady growth of the city’s enormous maritime commerce. One of her most public-spir- ited sons, the wealthy Duke of Galliera, gave no less than $4,000,000 out of his own pocket to help provide the facilities needed 40 years ago—and that was only the beginning. Trade and port have been growing rapidly and steadily ever since. Genoa has always been busy, and even - when she lost the maritime supremacy to Venice she did not fall asleep, as did Pisa, but kept on sending out her ships and men into every sea. One of these sturdy sailor sons we have cause to know—Columbus. In the Piazza Acqua- verde—Greenwater Square—Columbus’s laggard fellow-townsmen have _ reared him a colossal statue, with America ALULJUL OUy,, “A[NAy ‘O19 uosdwoy J, [peg © yjoudesys pue SjoT[N J994S Sv 99VF O} PACY SB OIV SLI C pra oY} fo ATTRAC olf} puv MOUS olf} FO ‘sdpy oy} JSuIVse pueL sollte ULIAIsNYy JsUTVSe—olvjIVA o[QHOpP LV SULSPAL 91B JONUvUILU Sd TV HLH NI SdOOUL NVIIVWLI b » ¥ 10} ) iy royegt M Jos a! oIp[Os OU, 66 é juowdinbs dvp-o}-dn Quoiyyo Aly} FO sJsOFWoo oy} IO ‘Suryvur oiv AoY} ATOJSIY 9Y} JO suomi10do1d S1OTOY oY} 910 Woy} AAuo AY} PfNOM ‘opssn1js uvodosnsT Suliidsur-oMme oy} ur Surkeyd o1e uotu osoy} zAed oy} YO}VAM pynoo sdjy oy} JO SMoOUS 9Y} UL PoYstiod OYM SIOILIVM SJeqiuue_T JO sapeys oy} FT Sd1IV WHHL NI HOUVW HH NO SYNHSSVHO ANId TV NVIIVII uosdwuoyy, [vq O) 367 368 kneeling at his feet—but they allowed 370 years to go by before they could bring themselves to honor the intrepid mariner whose real monument is no bit of lifeless stone, but a living, breathing, creative New World. THE “GARDEN WALL OF EUROPE” Along the coast in either direction from Genoa runs the sunniest, loveliest, most popular strand in the world, the “garden wall of Europe,” the Riviera, place of a thousand delights. It is a sinuously se- ductive shore, whose iron ribs, pierced through and through with innumerable smoky little tunnels, curve down to the sea; a coast of inexpressibly beautiful indentations, bays and inlets whose shores rise in sheer rock or gleam with the rich verdance of heavy foliage, relieved by the color of myriad blossoms. Quaint towns gem it like beads of parti-colored glass upon a silver thread. Sheltered behind by their granite hills from the tempestuous and icy ‘Mistral that goes roaring out to sea far over- head, and warmed by the generous southern sun, these towns—most of them, like Genoa, half old, half new—are favorite resorts of pleasure and health seekers from every clime. And to the west, looking away toward the blue shore of beautiful France, for miles one superb vista after another un- folds of the intervening coast-line, with its ragged contours. Olive groves and old castle ruins, picturesquely situated towns and tenth century pirate watch- towers, make preparation for San Remo, upon terraced slopes whose gray-green olives shade into the differing hues of the agaves, oranges, and pomegranates at the edge of the bay (see page 359). THE GIFTED MOTHER OF MEN Beyond lies Bordighera of the exqui- site flowers and the date palms, and at the French frontier, hilltop Ventimiglia, walled about loftily, as if to keep it from being blown into the sea by the first mis- chievous zephyr. They are all so lovely, all so rich with one or another gift, so mild, so perfumed—with the thousands of acres of flowers of every description raised for sale and to supply the perfume distillers—so productive, that here, in- THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 5) deed, is “Paradise enow.” And all along the coastal hills are dotted with the bold and striking ruins of mighty castles and strongholds, tombstones of the great and noble families who once upon a time dweit here in lordly state. | As we stand at this western end of the Riviera and look back and down through Nature and the years at all the loveliness and wisdom and fascination of Italy, what does it all mean; what does it con- vey? ‘To what extent is the modern the product of those great periods developed in “Itaha who hast the fatal gift of beauty”? History and education answer alike: Italy has pioneered and passed on her discoveries for the benefit of all mankind. Within her borders de- veloped the two greatest forces of civil- ization: that Christianity to which, more or less directly, we owe all our material and spiritual progress, and the liberation of human thought and spirit in the tre- mendous uplift of the Renaissance. Had Italy never produced aught but these, the world would still owe her an incalculable and unpayable debt of gratitude. If Italy failed to go on with the great work so nobly begun, our debt is none the less great. She gave the impulse that others were able to carry on. And after a period of quiescence, what is she doing today? Ask of the bitter, bloodied snows of the southern Alp; peer into those mist and cloud-shrouded heights where, as one man, united Italy is fighting with des- perate valor for what she and her allies conceive to be their duty, not merely to themselves, but to all civilization for all posterity. And in peace, as in war, she is. alert, full of high purpose and the conviction of service. In her civil life and domestic affairs we must recognize in her again those beauties and qualities and charms, those stern, enduring virtues, as well as those bewitching coquetries, that so pre- eminently characterize her as a noble mother of men, winning as her own bril- liant skies, patient with the maternal patience that neither swerves nor falters, and progressive once more in the en- deavor to reach the ideals she herself promulgated so many centuries ago, or even to go beyond the limits her appar- ently inexhaustible genius set. NA op Bye WOE: DOOR SINGS) | oe ele NATIONAIL GIEEOGRAIPIHIG MAGAZINIE WASHINGTON NOVEMBER, 1916 THE LARGER NORTH AMERICAN MAMMALS By E. W. NeELson ASSISTANT CHIEF, U. S. BroLocical SURVEY With illustrations from paintings by Louis Agassiz Fuertes Readers of ‘THE GrocraPHic will be glad to learn that this number is the forerunner of another by Messrs. Nelson and Fuertes to be devoted to the por- trayal and study of the smaller mammals of our continent. So great is the potential as well as the practical value along educational lines of this remarkable series of animal studies that Tur GrocraPutc has not hesitated to expend $40,000 in its publication. We congratulate our readers who have made such an achieve- ment possible by their enthusiastic interest and support. T THE time of its discovery and A occupation by Europeans, North America and the bordering seas teemed with an almost incredible pro- fusion of large mammalian life. The hordes of game animals which roamed the primeval forests and plains of this continent were the marvel of early ex- plorers and have been equaled in historic times only in Africa. Even beyond the limit of trees, on the desolate Arctic barrens, vast herds con- taining hundreds of thousands of caribou drifted from one feeding ground to an- other, sharing their range with number- less smaller companies of musk-oxen. Despite the dwarfed and scanty vegeta- tion of this bleak region, the fierce winter storms and long arctic nights, and the harrying by packs of white wolves, these hardy animals continued to hold their own until the fatal influence of civilized man was thrown against them. Southward from the Arctic barrens, in the neighboring forests of spruce, tama- rack, birches, and aspens, were multitudes of woodland caribou and moose. Still farther south, in the superb forests of eastern North America, and ranging thence over the limitless open plains of the West, were untold millions of buffalo, elk, and white-tailed deer, with the prong- horned antelope replacing the white-tails on the western plains. With this profusion of large game, which afforded a superabundance of food, there was a corresponding abundance of large carnivores, as wolves, coyotes, black and grizzly bears, mountain lions, and lynxes. Black bears were everywhere ex- cept on the open plains, and numerous species of grizzlies occupied all the moun- tainous western part of the continent. Fur-bearers, including beavers, musk- rats, land-otters, sea-otters, fishers, mar- tens, minks, foxes, and others, were so plentiful in the New World that immedi- ately after the colonization of the United States and Canada a large part of the world’s supply of furs was obtained here. Trade with the Indians laid the foun- dations of many fortunes, and later devel- Photograph by Capt. F. E. Kleinschmidt TOWING HER BABY TO SAFETY When a mother polar bear scents danger she jumps into the water and her cub holds fast to her tail while she tows it to safety. But when no danger seems to threaten she wants it to “paddle its own canoe,” and boxes its ears or ducks its head under water if it insists on being too lazy to swim for itself. oped almost imperial organizations, like the Hudson’s Bay Company and its rivals. Many adventurous white men became trappers and traders, and through their energy, and the rivalry of the trading companies, we owe much of the first ex- ploration of the northwestern and north- ern wilderness. The stockaded fur-trad- ing stations were the outposts of civiliza- tion across the continent to the shores of Oregon and north to the Arctic coast. At the same time the presence of the sea- otter brought the Russians to occupy the Aleutian Islands, Sitka, and even north- ern California. The wealth of mammal life in the seas along the shores of North America al- most equaled that on the land. On the east coast there were many millions of harp and hooded seals and walruses, while the Greenland right and other whales were extremely abundant. On the west coast were millions of fur seals, sea- lions, sea-elephants, and walruses, with an equal abundance of whales and hun- dreds of thousands of sea otters. Many of the chroniclers dealing with explorations and life on the frontier dur- ing the early period of the occupation of America gave interesting details concern- ing the game animals. Allouez says that in 1680, between Lake Erie and Lake 386 Photograph by Capt. F..E. Nleinschmidt A SWIMMING POLAR BEAR bear when swimming does not use his hind legs, a new fact brought out by the motion-picture camera 387 ‘sostodiod oxf] ‘saAmnd [NfZoov1s ul doVJAINs 9y} sAoqe YSry Surdeoy ATUappns ‘19y}0 ‘JoyjouR suo JO ymMsind ul ynoqe oyory pur ‘sioWUIMS sNOpAIeUL oIe ADT, “[NZAvTd ApowWos}xo SdNd DNOOA AGNV SHTIVWHA :’IVAS WA sMoipuy uewudey) soy Aq ydeisojoyg oY} JojZe uO ‘udYy} pure “doop suIATp Mou d1B s[vVIS INF SIv9A ANOF OF DUO FO SasR dy} WONT ROAMING “ MONARCHS OF THE PLAIN” © Keystone View Co. > BRITISH COLUMBIA A remnant of the veritable sea of wild life that surged over American soil before the dikes of civilization compassed it about and all but wiped it out Michigan the prairies were filled with an incredible number of bears, wapiti, white- tailed deer, and turkeys, on which the wolves made fierce war. He adds that on a number of occasions this game was so little wild that it was necessary to fire shots to protect the party from it. Perrot states that during the winter of 1670- 1671, 2,400 moose were snared on the Great Manitoulin Island, at the head of Lake Huron. Other travelers, even down to the last century, give similar accounts of the abundance of game. TRAINS HELD UP BY BUFFALO The original buffalo herds have been estimated to have contained from 30,000,- 000 to 60,000,000 animals, and in 1870 it was estimated that about 5,500,000 still survived. A number of men now living were privileged to see some of the great herds of the West before they were finally destroyed. Dr. George Bird Grinnell writes: “In 1870, I happened to be on a train that was stopped for three hours to let a herd of buffalo pass. We supposed they would soon pass by, but they kept coming. On a number of occasions in earlier days the engineers thought that they could run through the herds, and that, seeing the locomotive, the buffalo would stop or turn aside; but after a few locomotives had been ditched by the ani- mals the engineers got in the way of re- specting the buffaloes’ idiosyncrasies. .. . “Up to within a few years, in northern Montana and southern Alberta, old buf- falo trails have been very readily trace- able by the eye, even as one passed on a railroad train. These trails, fertilized by the buffalo and deeply cut so as to long hold moisture, may still be seen in sum- mer as green lines winding up and down the hills to and from the water-courses.” Concerning the former abundance of antelope, Dr. Grinnell says: “For many years I have held the opinion that in early days on the plains, as I saw them, ante- lope were much more abundant than _buf- falo. Buffalo, of course, being big and black, were impressive if seen in masses and were visible a long way off. Ante- lope, smaller and less conspicuous in color, were often passed unnoticed, ex- cept by..a person of experience, who 389 ek 390 . Kleinschmidt Y ASK ONLY TO BE LET ALONE 4 Photograph by E. a o 4 HE OOKING, WITH THEIR LONG TUSKS, ‘an 4 4 4 THOUGH FORMIDABLI FRONT: 4 nN 4 A WALRUS BATTLI might recognize that distant white dots might be antelope and not buffalo bones or puff balls. I used to talk on this subject with men who were on the plains in the ’60’s and 70's, and all agreed that, so far as their judgment went, there were more antelope than buffalo. Often the buffalo were bunched up into thick herds and gave the impression of vast numbers. ‘The ante- lope were scattered, and, ex- cept in winter, when I have seen herds of thousands, they were pretty evenly distributed over the prairie. i ANTELOPES EVERYWHERE “T have certain memories of travel on the plains, when for the whole long day one would pass a continual succession of small bands of antelope, num- bering from ten to fifty or sixty, those at a little distance paying no attention to the traveler, while those nearer at hand loped lazily and uncon- cernedly out of the way. In the year 1879, in certain val- leys in North Park, Colorado, I saw wonderful congregations of antelope. As. fan jasiawe could see in any direction, all over the basins, there were antelope in small or consider- able groups. In one of these places I examined with care the trails made by them, for this was the only place where I ever saw deeply worn ante- lope trails, which suggested the buffalo trails of the plains.” The wealth of animal life found by our forebears was one of the great natural re- sources of the New World. Although freely drawn upon from the first, the stock was but little depleted up to within a century. During the last one hundred years, however, the rapidly increasing occupation of the continent and other Photograph by Albert Schlechten A CINNAMON TREED: YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK Bruin for the most part is an inoffensive beast, with an impelling curiosity and such a taste for sweet things that he can eat pounds of honey and lick his chops for more 39! Photograph by E. C. Oberholtzer MOOSE FEEDING UNDER DIFFICULTIES The moose likes the succulent water plants it finds at the bottom of lakes and sluggish streams, and often when reaching for them becomes completely submerged 392 % eo ES se © =. ai Oi is ee Phoroetaph lye tie C. Se COW MOOSE WITH HER YOUNG Notice the fold of skin at her neck resembling a bell causes, together with a steadily increas- ing commercial demand for animal prod- ucts, have had an appalling effect. The buffalo, elk, and antelope are reduced to a pitiful fraction of their former count- less numbers. WANTON WASTE OF WILD LIFE Practically all other large game has alarmingly decreased, and its extermina- tion has been partly stayed only by the recent enforcement of protective laws. It is quite true that the presence of wild buffalo, for instance, in any region occu- pied for farming and stock-raising pur- poses is incompatible with such use. Thus the extermination of the bison as a deni- zen of our western plains was inevitable. The destruction, however, of these noble game animals by millions for their hides only furnishes a notable example of the wanton wastefulness which has hereto- fore largely characterized the handling of our wild life. A like disregard for the future has been shown in the pursuit of the sea mammals. The whaling and sealing 1n- dustries are very ancient, extending back for a thousand years or more; but the greatest and most ruthless destruction of the whales and seals has come within the last century, especially through the use of steamships and bomb-guns. \Vithout adequate international protection, there is grave danger that the most valuable of these sea mammals will be exterminated. The fur seal and the sea-elephant, once so abundant on the coast of southern California, are nearly or quite gone, and the sea otter of the North Pacific is dan- gerously near extinction. The recent great abundance of large land mammals in North America, both in individuals and species, is in striking con- trast with their scarcity in South Amer- ica, the difference evidently being due to the long isolation of the southern conti- nent from other land-masses, whence it 393 ‘So.Apeo oj)1] oy} ATPeroedsa ‘way, Suowe soavy soxeul J[OM Popkoip oY} Udy} pue ‘Yeam pue UTY} ale Hla OY} toJUIM P4sey Pe JO dse0 UT “A1JUNOD JDMOT OY} OJUI WdY} 91OJoq SuNOA pue Plo SUTALIp ‘19430 94} 0} pus 9UO WOIF sureJUNOUT 9} JOAI} STING sIq IY} oAvIT AY} 91OJoq qsnf ‘sAay[eA dy} OJUL UMOP OS 0} poTjedulod 91e Ady} 9WIOD SMOUS dodap dy} UaYyM Hq ‘TOWNS UT SUTeJUNOW OY} UL UMO Ay} Poy urd Ady YT, MTH NIVINQOQOW AMOON pnosys "{ *M Aq ydersoj0yg a OE reverie y al isis 394 395 Photograph by W. J. Stroud AN UNUSUAL ELK PICTURE Photograph by Charles Ek. Johnson THE MOOSE IS A POWERFUL SWIMMER Photograph by F. O. Seabury PART OF A HERD OF SIXTY MOUNTAIN SHEEP They are fed hay and salt daily at the Denver and Rio Grande Railway station at Ouray, Colorado. This picture was taken at a distance of about 10 to 15 feet from the wild animals, which grow quite tame under such friendly ministrations. 390 From a drawing by Charles R. Knight A MOOSE THAT LIVED IN NEW JERSEY IN PLEISTOCENE TIMES: CROVALCES A primitive moose-like form, a nearly perfect skeleton of which was found in southern Jersey some years ago. In size and general proportions the animal was like a modern moose, but the nose was less developed, and the horns were decidedly different in character. might have been restocked after the loss of a formerly existing fauna. SPECIES COME AND SPECIES GO The differences in the geographic dis- tribution of mammal life between North and South America and the relationships between our fauna and that of the Old World are parts of the latest chapter of a wonderful story running back through geologic ages. The former chapters are recorded in the fossil beds of all the con- tinents. While only a good beginning has been made in deciphering these records, enough has been done by the fascinating researches of Marsh, Cope, Osborn, Scott, and others to prove that in all parts 39 > of the earth one fauna has succeeded an- other in marvelous procession. It has been shown also that these changes in animal life, accompanied by equal changes in plant life, have been largely brought about by variations in climate and by the uplifting and depress- ing of continental land-masses above or below the sea. The potency of climatic influence on animal life is so great that even a fauna of large mammals will be practically destroyed over a great area by a long-continued change of a com- paratively few degrees (probably less than ten degrees Fahrenheit) in the mean daily temperatures. The distribution of both recent and THEIR LIVING LIES All nature loves kindness and trusts the gentle hand. BENEATH THE Photograph by Gus A. Swanson SNOW Contrast these sheep, ready to fly at the slightest noise, with those in the picture on page 306, peacefully feeding in close proximity to a standing express train. animal more than the trophy of a dead one! fossil mammals shows conclusively that numberless species have spread from their original homes across land bridges to remote unoccupied regions, where they have become isolated as the bridges dis- appeared beneath the waves of the sea. VAST NATURAL MUSEUMS OF ANIMAL LIFE EXTINCT For ages Asia appears to have served as a vast and fecund nursery for new Every one appreciates a good picture of a living mammals from which North Temperate and Arctic America have been supplied. The last and comparatively recent land bridge, across which came the ancestors of our moose, elk, caribou, prong-horned antelope, mountain goats, mountain sheep, musk-oxen, bears, and many other mam- mals, was in the far Northwest, where Bering Straits now form a shallow chan- nel only 28 miles wide separating Siberia from Alaska. 308 The fossil beds of the Great Plains and other parts of the West contain eloquent proofs of the richness and variety of mam- mal life on this continent at dif- ferent periods in the past. Per- haps the most wonderful of all these ancient faunas was that re- vealed by the bones of birds and mammals which had been trapped in the asphalt pits recently dis- covered in the outskirts of Los Angeles, California. These bones show that prior to the arrival of the present fauna the plains of southern California swarmed with an astonishing wealth of strange birds and beasts (see page 401). The most notable of these are saber-toothed tigers, lions much larger than those of Africa; giant wolves; several kinds of bears, including the huge cave | bears, even larger than the gi- gantic brown bears of Alaska; large wild horses; camels; bison (unlike our buffalo) ; tiny ante- dope, the size of a fox; masto- dons, mammoths with tusks 15 feet long; and giant ground sloths; in addition to many other species, large and small. With these amazing mammals were equally strange birds, including, among numerous birds of prey, a giant vulture- like species (far larger than any condor), peacocks, and many others. DID MAN LIVE THEN? The geologically recent existence of this now vanished fauna is evidenced by the presence in the asphalt pits of bones of the gray fox, the mountain lion, and close relatives of the bobcat and coyote, as well as the condor, which still frequent that region, and thus link the past with the present. The only traces of the an- cient vegetation discovered in these as- phalt pits are a pine and two species of juniper, which are members of the exist- ing flora. There is reason for believing that prim- itive man occupied California and other parts of the West during at least the lat- ter part of the period when the fauna of the asphalt pits still flourished. Dr. C. Hart Merriam informs me that the folk- “Howdy-do! “What do I care! Photograph by L,. Peterson INTRODUCING A LITTLE BLACK BEAR TO A LITTLE BROWN BEAR AT SEWARD, ALASKA I ain’t got a bit of use for you!” You'd better back away, black bear!” lore of the locally restricted California Indians contains detailed descriptions of a beast which is unmistakably a bison, probably the bison of the asphalt pits. The discovery in these pits of the bones of a gigantic vulturelike bird of prey of far greater size than the condor is even more startling, since the folk-lore of the Eskimos and Indians of most of the tribes from Bering Straits to California and the Rocky Mountain region abound in tales of the “thunder-bird’’—a gigantic bird of prey like a mighty eagle, capable of carry- ing away people in its talons. ‘Two such coincidences suggest the possibility that the accounts of the bison and the ‘“‘thun- der-bird” are really based on the originals of the asphalt beds and have been passed down in legendary history through many thousands of years. CAMELS AND HORSES ORIGINATED IN NORTH AMERICA Among other marvels our fossil beds reveal the fact that both camels and horses originated in North America. The remains of many widely different species of both animals have been found 399 in numerous localities extending from coast to coast in the United States. Camels and horses, with many species of antelope closely related to still existing forms in Africa, abounded over a large part of this country up to the end of the geological age immediately preceding the present era. Then eanomg La imperfectly understood changes of environment a tremendous mortality among the wild life took place and destroyed practically all of the splen- did large mammals, which, however, have _left their records in the asphalt pits of California and other fossil beds through- out the country. This original fauna was followed by an influx of other ‘species which made up the fauna when America was discovered. At the time of its discovery by Colum- bus this continent had only one domesti- In most in- stances the ancestors of the Indian dogs appear to have been the native coyotes or gray wolves, but the descriptions of some dogs found by early explorers indi- car very different and unknown ancestry. Unfortunately these strange dogs became eimee at an early period, and thus left unsolvable the riddle of their origin. Before the discovery of America the people of the Old World had domesti- cated cattle, horses, pigs, sheep, goats, dogs, and cats; but none of these do- mestic animals, except the dog, existed in America until brought from Europe by the invaders of the New World. The wonderful fauna of the asphalt pits had vanished long before America was first colonized by white men, and had been replaced by another mainly from the Old World, less varied in character, but enormously abundant in individuals. Although 80 many North American mam-+ mals were derived from Asia, some came from South America, while others, as the raccoons, originated here. Photograph by Carl J. Lomen RD, AS ‘TILIS PICTURE WAS TAKIN TL, nN uf N IN THE 4 Ty N ” ’ SE SON N 4 THE LFAWNING SE: FAWNS ARI TO BI MANY y ARTER ALASKA? SITORTLY WALES, 4 4 Ol 4 4 4 PRINCI 4 4 FEWER LARGE MAMMALS IN THE TROPICS. It is notable that the fossil beds which prove the existence of an extraordinary abundance of large mammals in North America at various periods in the past, as well as the enormous aggregation of mammalian life which occupied ‘this con- tinent, both on land and at sea, at the time of its discovery, were confined to the Temperate and Arctic Zones. It is popu- TIERD A’T CAPE: A REINDEER 400 I'rom Scott’s ‘ TATS “REPRESENTS A SCENE AT THE ‘Tlistory of the Land Marminale: of the Ww estern Hemisphere”’: CALIFORNIA Macmillan Cine ASPHALT PITS, WITH A MIRED ELEPHANT, TWO GIANT WOLVES, AND A SABER-TOOTHED TIGER (SEE PAGE 399) larly believed that the tropics possess an exuberance of life beyond that of other climes, yet in no tropic lands or seas, ex- cept in parts of Africa and southern Asia, has there been developed such an abundance of large mammal life as these northern latitudes have repeatedly known. In temperate and arctic lands such numbers of large mammals could exist only where the vegetation not only suf- ficed for summer needs, but retained its nourishing qualities through the winter. In the sea the vast numbers of seals, sea- lions, walruses, and whales of many kinds could be maintained only by a limitless profusion of fishes and other marine life. From the earliest appearance of mam- mals on the globe to comparatively recent times one mammalian fauna has suc- ceeded another in the regular sequence of evolution, man appearing late on the scene and being subject to the same nat- ural influences as his mammalian kindred. During the last few centuries, however. through the development of agriculture, the invention of new methods of trans- portation, and of modern firearms, so- 4ol called civilized man has spread over and now dominates most parts of the earth. As a result, aboriginal man and the large mammals of continental areas have been, or are being, swept away and re- placed by civilized man and his domestic animals. Orderly evolution of the mar- velously varied mammal life in a state of nature is thus being brought to an abrupt end. Henceforth fossil beds containing deposits of mammals caught in sink- holes, and formed by river and other floods in subarctic, temperate, and trop- ical parts of the earth, will contain more and more exclusively the bones of man and his domesticated horses, cattle, and sheep. DESTROYING THE IRRESTORABLE ‘The splendid mammals which possessed the earth until man interfered were the ultimate product of Nature working through the ages that have elapsed since the dawn of life. All of them show myriads of exquisite adaptations to their environment in color, form, organs, and habits. ‘The wanton destruction of any of these species thus deprives the world of a marvelous organism which no hu- man power can ever restore. Fortunately, although it is too late to save many notable animals, the leading nations of the world are rapidly awaken- ing toa proper appreciation of the value and significance of wild life. As a con- sequence, while the superb herds of game on the limitless plains will vanish, sports- men and nature lovers, aided by those who appreciate the practical value of wild life as an asset, may work successfully to provide that the wild places shall not be left wholly untenanted. Although Americans have been notably wasteful of wild life, even to the extermi- nation of numerous species of birds and mammals, yet they are now leading the world in efforts to conserve what is left of the original fauna. No civilized peo- ple, with the exception of the South Af- rican Boers, have been such a nation of hunters as those of the United States. Most hunters have a keen appreciation of nature, and American sportsmen as a 402 From a drawing by Charles R. Knight A PRIMITIVE FOUR-TUSKED ELEPHANT, STANDING ABOUT SIX FEET AT THE SHOULDER, THAT LIVED AGES AGO IN THE UNITED STATES (TRICOPHODON MIOCENE) class have become ardent supporters of a nation-wide movement for the conser- vation of wild life. SAVING OUR WILD LIFE Several strong national organizations are doing great service in forwarding the conservation of wild life, as the National Geographic Society, the National Asso- ciation of Audubon Societies, American Bison Society, Boone and Crockett Club, New York Zoological Society, American Game Protective and Propagation Asso- ciation, Permanent Wild Life Protective Fund, and others. In addition, a large number of unofficial State organizations have been formed to assist in this work. Through the authorization by Congress, the Federal Government is actively en- gaged in efforts for the protection and in- crease of our native birds and mammals. This work is done mainly through the Bureau of Biological Survey of the U. 5S. Department of Agriculture, which is in charge of the several Federal large-game A GROTESQUE CREATURE THAT ONCE LIVED IN THE UNITED STATES (UERTATHERIUM EOCENE, MIDDLE WYOMING) It had six horns on the head and, in some species, two long canine teeth projecting down- ward from the upper jaw. and teeth resemble nothing on earth today. preserves and nearly seventy bird reser- vations. On the large-game preserves are herds of buffalo, elk, deer, and antelope. The Yellowstone National Park, under the Department of the Interior, is one of the most wonderfully stocked game preserves in the world. In this beautiful tract of forest, lakes, rivers, and mountains live many moose, elk, deer, antelope, moun- tain sheep, black and grizzly bears, wolves, coyotes, mountain lions, and lynxes. Practically all of the States have game and fish commissions in one form or an- other, with a warden service for the pro- tection of game, and large numbers of State game preserves have been estab- lished. The increasing occupation of the country, the opening up of wild places, 403 The feet were somewhat like those of an elephant, but the skull and the destruction of forests are rapidly restricting available haunts for game. This renders particularly opportune the present and increasing wide-spread inter- est in the welfare of the habitants of the wilderness. The national forests offer an unrivaled opportunity for the protection and in- crease of game along broad and effective lines. At present the title to game mam- mals is vested in the States, among which great differences in protective laws and their administration in many cases jeop- ardize the future game supply. If a cooperative working arrangement could be effected between the States and the Department of Agriculture, whereby the Department would have supervision and control over the game on the national forests, so far as concerns its protection THE PRIMITIVE FOUR-TOED HORSE The so-called four-toed horse, having four well-detined (EOHIPPUS, From a drawing by Charles R. Knight LOWER EOCENE, WYOMING ) ’ a little creature some 12 inches in height at the shoulder, hoofs on the front foot and three on the hind foot. The animal is not a true horse, but was undoubtedly an ancestor (more or less direct) of the modern been a very speedy type, which contributed greatly to the preservation of the species in an age when (so iar as we know) the carnivores were rather slow and form. It must have clumsy. and the designation of hunting areas, varying the quantity of game to be taken from definite areas in accordance with its abundance from season to season, while the States would control open seasons for shooting, the issuance of hunting licenses, and similar local matters, the future wel- fare of large game in the Western States would be assured. Under such an arrangement the game supply would be handled on business principles. When game becomes scarce Sc 404 in any restricted area, hunting could be suspended until the supply becomes re- newed, while increased hunting could be allowed in areas where there is sufficient game to warrant it. In brief, big game could be handled by the common-sense methods now used so effectively in the stock industry on the open range. At present the lack of a definite “general policy to safeguard our game supply and the resulting danger to our splendid na- tive animals are deplorably in evidence. A TRUE HORSE WHICH WAS FOUND IN THE FOSSIL BEDS OF TEXAS: PLEISTOCENE It is interesting to note that this country was possessed of several species of wild horses, but these died out long before the advent of the Indian on this continent. The present wild horses of our western plains are merely stragglers from the herds brought over by the Spaniards and other settlers. When Columbus discovered America there were no horses on the continent, though in North America horses and camels originated (see text, page 300). From drawings by Charles R. Knight THE, FOREST HORSE OF NORTH AMERICA (HYPOHIPPOS MIOCENE) This animal is supposed to have inhabited heavy undergrowth. It was somewhat off the true horse ancestry and had three rather stout toes on both the fore and hind feet. 405 ‘€vpo} oAvY OM [eUTUL SIZsaWIOp Aue ULY} SHOJOUIMU 910 Ajqeqoid atom oy} 19M dJOY} ULY} S2IeIG poyUA oy} ur odojajue puv Joop a1OWL o19M ds9Yy} ArnjyuOd yse] Oy} FO SuTUUY NMVaA GNV f@Od VNVINOW V uUOSUBMSG “Vv snry Aq Ydeasojoyd Q oO ‘gni} oq 3} FT aq ay} We WUX P ‘sooyeynq IAIT[OG SOUT} 9SOY} FO S IOAIISYO 406 ‘Ajnvoq [MJoowss ul sopods s9y}O Ou 0} dovjd pjoid puv ‘xouvanpud 10} possedansun oar ‘poods 10, purm oy} yoyeur poom doaop oy} JO suoziusp MSO} ‘JOoIS SV PAVY SV SMOUIS PUR SUTUZYSTT sv yond sv saatou YUM ‘YS 0} poo1OF UdYyA\ UOT] B Sv dAVIG ‘UddO dy} UT o][JozeB vw sv SNOJOUIT J, GIIM HHL LO LIMTdS InL UOSULMG "\W snr) Aq ydvisojoyg ne ret ‘rom Po < 407 408 OPOSSUM, VIRGINIA OPOSSUM (Di- delphis virginiana and its subspecies) The opossums are the American representa- tives of the ancient order of Marsupials—a wonderfully varied group of mammals now limited to America and Australasia. ‘Through- out the order the young are born in an embry- onic condition and are transferred to teats located in an external pocket or pouch in the skin of the abdomen, where they complete their development. The kangaroos are among the most striking members of this group. Numerous species of opossums are known, all peculiar to America and distributed from the eastern United States to Patagonia. The Virginia opossum, the largest of all the spe- cies, is characterized by its coarse hair, pig- like snout, naked ears, and long, hairless, pre- hensile tail. Its toes are long, slender, and so widely spread that its footprints on the muddy border of a stream or in a dusty trail show every toe distinctly, as in a bird track, and are unmistakably different from those of any other mammal. This is the only species of opossum occur- ring in the United States, where it occupies all the wooded eastern parts from eastern New York, southern Wisconsin, and eastern Ne- braska south to the Gulf coast and into the tropics. It has recently been introduced in central. California. Although scarce in the northern parts of its range, it is abundant and well known in the warmer Southern States. These animals love the vicinity of water, and are most numerous in and about swamps or other wet lowlands and along bottom-lands bordering streams. ‘They have their dens in hollow trees, in holes under the roots of trees, or in similar openings where they may hide away by day. ‘Their food consists of almost everything, animal or vegetable, that is edible, including chickens, which they capture in noc- turnal raids. The Virginia opossums have from 5 to I4 young, which at first are formless, naked little objects, so firmly attached to the teats in the mother’s pouch that they can not be shaken loose. Later, when they attain a coating of hair, they are miniature replicas of the adults, but continue to occupy the pouch until the swarming family becomes too large for it. The free toes of opossums are used like hands for grasping, and the young cling firmly to the fur of their mother while being carried about in her wanderings. They are rather slow-moving, stupid animals, which seek safety by their retiring nocturnal habits and by non-resistance when overtaken by an enemy. ‘This last trait gave origin to the familiar term “playing possum,’ and is illustrated by their habit of dropping limp and apparently lifeless when attacked. Despite this apparent lack of stamina, their vitality is extra- ordinary, rendering them difficult to kill. While hunting at daybreak, I once encoun- tered an unusually large old male opossum on his way home from a night in the forest. When we met, he immediately stopped and THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE stood with hanging head and tail and half- closed eyes. I walked up and, after watching him for several minutes without seeing the slightest movement, put my foot against his side and gave a slight push. He promptly fell flat and lay limp and apparently dead. I then raised him and tried to put him on his feet again, but his legs would no. longer support him, and I failed in other tests to obtain the slightest sign of life. The opossum has always been a favorite game animal in the Southern States, and fig- ures largely in the songs and folk-lore of the southern negroes. In addition, its remarkable peculiarities have excited so much popular in- terest that it has become one of the most widely known of American animals. RACCOON (Procyon lotor and its sub- species) Few American wild animals are more widely known or excite more popular interest than the raccoon. It is a short, heavily built animal with a club-shaped tail, and with hind feet that rest flat on the ground, like those of a bear, and make tracks that have a curious resem- blance to those of a very small child. Its front toes are long and well separated, thus permit- ting the use of the front feet with almost the facility of a monkey’s hands. Raccoons occupy most of the wooded parts of North America from the southern border of Canada. to Panama, with the exception of the higher mountain ranges. In the United States they are most plentiful in the South- eastern and Gulf States and on the Pacific coast. Under the varying climatic conditions of their great range a number of geographic races have developed, all of which have a close general resemblance in habits and appearante. They everywhere seek the wooded shores of streams and lakes and the bordering lowland forests and are expert tree-climbers, com- monly having their dens in hollow trees, often in cavities high above the ground. In such re- treats they have annually from four to six young, which continue to frequent this retreat until well grown, thus accounting for the num- bers often found in the same cavity. Although tree-frequenting animals, the greater part of their activities is confined to the ground, espe- cially along the margins of water-courses. While almost wholly nocturnal in habits, they are occasionally encountered abroad during the day. Their diet is extraordinarily varied, and in- cludes fresh-water clams, crawfish, frogs, tur- tles, birds and their eggs, poultry, nuts, fruits, and green corn. When near water they have a curious and unique habit of washing their food before eating it. Their fondness for green corn leads them into frequent danger, for when bottom-land cornfields tempt them away from their usual haunts raccoon hunting with dogs at night becomes an especially fa- vored sport. Raccoons are extraordinarily intelligent ani- mals and make interesting and amusing pets. won itt iGici NHL EEN QT RE WASEE ~ soit it y OPOSSUM RACCOON 409 410 During captivity their restless intelligence is shown by the curiosity with which they care- fully examine every strange object. They are particularly attracted by anything bright or shining, and a piece of tin fastened to the pan of a trap serves as a successful lure in trap- ping them. They patrol the border of streams and lakes so persistently that where they are common they sometimes make well-trodden little trails, and many opened mussel shells or other signs of their feasts may be found on the tops of fallen logs or about stones projecting above the water. In the northern part of their range they hibernate during the coldest parts of the winter, but in the South are active throughout the year. Raccoons began to figure in our frontier lit- erature at an early date. ‘“Coon-skin” caps, with the ringed tails hanging like plumes, made the favorite headgear of many pioneer hunters, and “coon skins” were a recognized article of barter at country stores. Now that the in- creasing occupation of the country is crowding out more and more of our wild life, it is a pleasure to note the persistence with which these characteristic and interesting animals continue to hold their own in so much of their original range. CANADA LYNX (Lynx canadensis) The lynxes are long-legged, short-bodied cats, with tufted ears and a short “bobbed” tail. They are distributed from the northern limit of trees south into the Temperate Zone throughout most of the northern part of both Old and New Worlds. In North America there are two types—the smaller animal, south- ern in distribution, and the larger, or Canada lynx, limited to the north, where its range ex- tends from the northern limit of trees south to the northern border of the United States. It once occupied all the mountains of New Eng- land and south in the Alleghenies to Pennsyl- vania. In the West it is still a habitant of the Rocky Mountains as far south as Colorado, and of the Sierra Nevada nearly to Mount Whitney. The Canada lynx is notable for the beauty of its head, one of the most striking among all our carnivores. This species is not only much larger than its southern neighbor, the bay lynx, but may also be distinguished from it by its long ear tips, thick legs, broad spreading feet, and the complete jet-black end of the tail. It is about 3 feet long and weighs from 15 to over 30 pounds. As befits an animal of the great northern forests, it has a long thick coat of fur, which gives it a remarkably fluffy ap- pearance. Its feet in winter are heavily furred above and below and are so broad that they serve admirably for support in deep snow, through which it would otherwise have to wade laboriously. This animal does not attack people, though popular belief often credits it with such action. It feeds mainly on such small prey as varying hares, mice, squirrels, foxes, and the grouse THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE and other birds living in its domain; but on occasion it even kills animals as large as moun- tain sheep. One such feat was actually wit- nessed above timberline in winter on a spur of Mount McKinley. The lynx sprang from a ledge as the sheep passed below, and, holding on the sheep’s neck and shoulders, it reached forward and by repeatedly biting put out its victim’s eyes, thus reducing it to helplessness. The chief food of the Canada lynx is the varying hare, which throughout the North periodically increases to the greatest abun- dance and holds its numbers for several years. During these periods the fur sales in the Lon- don market show that the number of lynx skins received increases proportionately with those of the hare. When an epizootic disease appears, as it does regularly, and almost ex- terminates the hares, there is an immediate and corresponding drop in the number of lynx skins sent to market. This evidences one of Nature’s great tragedies, not only among the overabundant hares, but among the lynxes, for with the failure of their food supply over a vast area tens of thousands of them perish of starvation. The Canada lynx has from two to five kit- tens, which are marked with dusky spots and short bands, indicating an ancestral relation- ship to animals similar to the ocelot, or tiger- cat, of the American tropics. The young usu- ally keep with the mother for nearly a year. Such families no doubt form the hunting par- ties whose rabbit drives on the Yukon Islands were described to me by the fur traders and Indians of the Yukon Valley. During sledge trips along the lower Yukon I often saw the distinctive broad, rounded tracks of lynxes, showing where they had wan- dered through the forests or crossed the wide, snow-covered river channel. Here and there, as the snow became very deep and soft, the tracks showed where a series of leaps had been made. Lynx trails commonly led from thicket to thicket where hares, grouse, or other game might occur. Canada lynxes appear to be rather stupid animals, for they are readily caught in traps, or even in snares, and, like most cats, make little effort to escape. BOBCAT, OR BAY LYNX (Lynx ruffus and its subspecies) The bay lynx, bobcat, or wildcat, as Lynx ruffus and its close relatives are variously called in different parts of the country, is one of the most widely distributed and best known of our wild animals. It is about two-thirds the size of the Canada lynx and characterized by much slenderer proportions, especially in its legs and feet. The ears are less conspicuously tufted and the tip of the tail is black only on its upper half. Bobcats range from Nova Scotia and southern British Columbia over practically all of the weeded and brushy parts of the United States except along the northern border, and extend south to the southern end of the high table-land of Mexico. From the earliest settlement of America the CANADA LYNX BOBCAT (Bay Lynx) 411 ee Fog We F for ie Pps Cp siie Fuceles, ‘ * Ve fi = 3 i a t i % % 412 bobcat has figured largely in hunting literature, and the popular estimate of its character is well attested by the frontier idea of the superlative physical prowess of a man who can “whip his weight in wildcats.’ Although our wildcat usually weighs less than 20 pounds, if its re- puted fierceness could be sustained it would be an awkward foe. But, so far as man is con- cerned, unless it is cornered and forced to de- fend itself, it is extremely timid and inof- fensive. Like all cats, it is very muscular and active, and to the rabbits, squirrels, mice, grouse, and other small game upon which it feeds is a per- sistent and remorseless enemy. Although an expert tree-climber, it spends most of its time on the ground, where it ordinarily seeks its prey. It is most numerous in districts where birds and small mammals abound, and parts of California seem especially favorable for it. Ata mountain ranch in the redwood forest south of San Francisco one winter some boys with dogs killed more than eighty bobcats. Ordinarily the bobcat seems to be rather un- common, but its nocturnal habits usually pre- vent its real numbers being actually known. In districts where not much hunted it is not uncommonly seen abroad by day, especially in winter, when driven by hunger. The bay lynx makes its den in hollows in trees, in small caves, and in openings among rock piles wherever quiet and safety appear assured. Although a shy animal, it persists in settled regions if sufficient woodland or broken country remains to give it shelter. From such retreats it sallies forth at night, and not only do the chicken roosts of careless householders suffer, but toll is even taken among the lambs of sheep herds. As in the case of most small cats, the stealthy hunting habits of the bay lynx renders it ex- cessively destructive to ground-frequenting birds, especially to quail, grouse, and other game birds. For this reason, like many of its kind, it is outlawed in all settled parts of the country. MOUNTAIN LION (Felis couguar and its subspecies) The mountain lion, next to the jaguar, is the largest of the cat tribe native to America. In various parts of its range it is also known as the panther, cougar, and puma. It is a slender- bodied animal with a small head and a long round tail, with a total length varying from seven to nine feet and a weight from about 150 to 200 pounds. It has from two to five young, which are paler brown than the adult and plainly marked Brith large dusky spots on the body and with dark bars on the tail. These special markings of the young, as in other animals, are ances- tral, and here appear to indicate that in the remote past our plain brown panther was a spotted cat somewhat like the leopard. No other American mammal has a range equal to that of the mountain lion. It origi- nally inhabited both North and South America THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE from southern Quebec and Vancouver Island to Patagonia and from the Atlantic to the Pa- cific coasts. Within this enormous territory it appears to be equally at home in an extra- ordinary variety of conditions. Formerly it was rather common in the Adirondacks of northern New York and still lives in the high Rocky Mountains of the West, where it en- dures the rigors of the severest winter tem- peratures. It is generally distributed, where large game occurs, in the treeless ranges of the most arid parts of the southwestern deserts, and is also well known in the most humid trop- ical forests of Central and South America, whose gloomy depths are drenched by almost continual rain. A number of geographic races of the species have been developed by the varied character of its haunts. These are usually characterized by differences in size and by paler and grayer shades in the arid regions and by darker and browner ones in the humid areas. The mountain lion, while powerful enough to be dangerous to man, is in reality extremely timid. Owing to its being a potentially dan- gerous animal, the popular conception of it is that of a fearsome beast, whose savage exploits are celebrated in the folk-lore of our frontier. As a matter of fact, few wild animals are less dangerous, although there are authentic ac- counts of wanton attacks upon people, just as there are authentic instances of buck deer and moose becoming aggressive. It has a wild, screaming cry which is thrillingly impressive when the shades of evening are throwing a mysterious gloom over the forests. In the mountains of Arizona one summer a mountain lion repeatedly passed along a series of ledges high above my cabin at dusk, uttering this loud weird cry, popularly supposed to resemble the scream of a terrified woman. The mountain lion is usually nocturnal, but in regions where it is not hunted it not infre- quently goes abroad by day. It is a tireless wanderer, often traveling many miles in a sin- gle night, sometimes in search of game and again in search of new hunting grounds. I have repeatedly followed its tracks for long distances along trails, and in northern Chihua- hua I once tracked one for a couple of miles from a bare rocky hill straight across the open, grassy plain toward a treeless desert mountain, for which it was heading, some eight or ten miles away. Although inoffensive as to people, this cat is such a fierce and relentless enemy of large game and live stock that it is everywhere an outlaw. Large bounties on its head have re- sulted in its extermination in most parts of the eastern United States and have diminished its numbers elsewhere. It is not only hunted with gun and dog but also with trap and poison. A mountain lion usually secures its prey by a silent, cautious stalk, taking advantage of every cover until within striking distance, and then, with one or more powerful leaps, dashing the victim to the ground with all the stunning impact of its weight. In a beautiful live-oak forest on the mountains of San Luis Potosi I MOUNTAIN LION JAGUAR 413 414 once trailed one of these great cats to the spot where it had killed a deer a short time before, and could plainly read in the trail the story of the admirable skill with which it had moved from cover to cover until it reached a knoll at one side of the little glade where the deer was feeding. Then a great leap carried it to the deer’s back and struck the victim to the ground with such violence that it slid 10 or 12 feet across the sloping ground, apparently having been killed on the instant. Another trail followed in the.snow on the high mountains of New Mexico led to the top of a projecting ledge from which the lion had leaped out and down over 20 feet, landing on the back of a deer and sliding with it 50 feet or more down the snowy slope. The mountain lion often kills calves, but is especially fond of young horses. In many range districts of the Western States and on the table-land of Mexico, owing to the depre- dations of this animal, it is impossible to raise horses. Unfortunately the predatory habits of this splendid cat are such that it can not con- tinue to occupy the same territory as civilized man and so is destined to disappear before him. JAGUAR (Felis hernandesi and its sub- species) The jaguar, or “el tigre,” as it is generally known throughout Spanish America, is the largest and handsomest of American cats. Its size and deep yellow color, profusely marked with black spots and rosettes, give it a close resemblance to the African leopard. It is, however, a heavier and more powerful animal. In parts of the dense tropical forests of South America coal-black jaguars occur, and while representing merely a color phase, they are pop- ularly supposed to be much fiercer than the ordinary animal. Jaguars are characteristic animals of the tropics in both Americas, frequenting alike the low jungle of arid parts as well as the great forests of the humid regions. In addition, they range south into Argentina and north into the southwestern United States. Although less nu- merous within our borders than formerly, they still occur as rare visitants as far north as middle Texas, middle New Mexico, and north- ern Arizona. They are so strictly nocturnal that their presence in our territory is usually not suspected until, after depredations on stock usually attributed to mountain lions, a trap or poison is put out and reveals a jaguar as the offender. Several have been killed in this way within our border during the last ten years, including one not far from the tourist hotel at the Grand Canyon of Arizona. Although so large and powerful, the jaguar has none of the truculent ferocity of the Afri- can leopard. During the years I spent in its country, mainly in the open, I made careful inquiry without hearing of a single case where one had attacked human beings. So far as I could learn, it has practically the same shy and cowardly nature as the mountain lion. Despite THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE this, the natives throughout its tropical home have a great fear of “el tigre,’ as I saw evi- denced repeatedly in Mexico. Apparently this fear is based wholly on its strength and poten- tial ability to harm man if it so “desired. Jaguars are very destructive to the larger game birds and mammals of their domain and to horses and cattle on ranches. On many large tropical ranches a “tigrero,’ or tiger hunter, with a small pack of mongrel dogs, is maintained, whose duty it is immediately to take up the trail when a “tigre” makes its pres- ence known, usually by killing cattle. The hunter steadily continues the pursuit, some- times for many days, until the animal is either killed or driven out of the district. It is ordi- narily hunted with dogs, which noisily follow the trail, but its speed through the jungle often enables it to escape. When hard pressed it takes to a tree and is easily killed. Few predatory animals are such wanderers as the jaguar, which roams hundreds of miles from its original home, as shown by its occa- sional appearance far within our borders. In the heavy tropical forest it so commonly fol- lows the large wandering herds of white-lipped peccaries that some of the Mexicans contend that every large herd is trailed by a tiger to pick up stragglers. Along the Mexican coast in spring, when sea turtles crawl up the beaches to bury their eggs in the sand, the rising sun often reveals the fresh tracks of the jaguar where it has traveled for miles along the shore in search of these savory deposits. In one locality on the Pacific coast of Guer- rero I found that the hardier natives had an interesting method of hunting the “tigre” dur- ing the mating period. At such times the male has the habit of leaving its lair near the head of a small canyon in the foothills early in the evening and following down the canyon for some distance, at intervals uttering a subdued roar. On moonlight nights at this time the hunter places an expert native with a short wooden trumpet near the mouth of the canyon to imitate the “tigre’s” call as soon as it is heard and to repeat the cry at proper intervals. After placing the caller, the hunter ascends the canyon several hundred yards and, gun in hand, awaits the approach of the animal. The natives have many amusing tales of the sudden exit of untried hunters when the approaching animal unexpectedly uttered its roar at close quarters. JAGUARUNDI CAT, OR EYRA (Felis cacomitli and its subspecies) The eyra differs greatly in general appear- ance from any of our other cats, although it is one of the most characteristic of the American members of this widely spread family. It is larger than an otter, with a small flattened head, long body, long tail, and short legs, thus having a distinctly otterlike form. It is char- acterized by two color phases—one a dull gray or dusky, and the other some shade of rusty rufous. Animals of these different colors were long supposed to represent distinct species, but os RED AND GRAY PHASES OF THE JAGUARUNDI CAT, OR EYRA 2 GS TIGER-CAT, OR OCELOT 415 416 it has been learned not only that color is the only difference between the two, but also that the two colors are everywhere found together, affording satisfactory evidence that they are merely color phases of the same species. The eyra is a habitant of brush-grown or forested country, mainly in the lowlands, from the lower Rio Grande Valley of Texas south to Paraguay. In this vast territory it has de- veloped a number of geographic races. In southern Texas, where it is often asso- ciated with the ocelot, the eyra lives in dense thorny thickets of mesquites, acacias, iron- wood, and other semitropical chaparral in a region of brilliant sunlight; but farther south it also roams the magnificent forests of the humid tropics, in which the sun rarely pene- trates. It appears to be even more nocturnal and retiring than most of our cats, and but little is known of its life history. The results of thorough trapping in the dense thorny thick- ets near Brownsville, Texas, indicate that it is probably more common than is generally sup- posed. The natives in the lowlands of Guerrero, on the Pacific coast of Mexico, informed me that the eyra in that region is fond of the vicinity of streams, and that it takes to the water and swims freely, crossing rivers whenever it de- sires. Its otterlike form goes well with such habits, and further information may prove that it is commonly a water-frequenting animal. Its unusual form and dual coloration and our lack of knowledge regarding the life of the eyra unite to make it one of the most inter- esting of our carnivores. TIGER-CATS, OR OCELOTS (Felis pardalis and its relatives) The brushy and forested areas of America from southern Texas and Sonora to Paraguay are inhabited by spotted cats of different spe- cies, varying from the size of a large house cat to.that of a Canada lynx. Only one of these occurs in the United States. All are characterized by long tails and a yellowish ground color, conspicuously marked by black spots, and on neck and back by short, longi- tudinal stripes—a color pattern that strongly suggests the leopard. In the lower Rio Grande Valley of Texas the tiger-cat is«rather common, with the eyra- cat, in areas densely overgrown with thorny chaparral. Like most of the cat tribe, it is strictly nocturnal and by day lies well hidden in its brushy shelter. By night it wanders along trails over a considerable territory, seek- ing its prey. Birds of all kinds, including do- mestic poultry, are captured on their roosts, and rabbits, wood rats, and mice of many kinds, as well as snakes and other reptiles, are on its list of game. Its reptile-eating habit was revealed to me unexpectedly one day in the dense tropical for- est of Chiapas. I was riding along a steep trail beside a shallow brush-grown ravine when a tiger-cat suddenly rushed up the trunk of a THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE tree close by. A lucky shot from my revolver brought it to the ground, and I found it lying in the ravine by the body of a recently killed boa about 6 or 7 feet long. It had eaten the boa’s head and neck when my approach inter- rupted the feast. The first of these cats I trapped in Mexico was captured the night after my arrival, in a trail bordering the port of Manzanillo, on the Pacific coast. The rejoicing of the natives living close by evidenced the toll this marauder had been taking from their chickens. The tiger-cat is much more quiet and less fierce in disposition than most felines. It ex- cited my surprise and interest whenever I trapped one to note how nonchalantly it took the situation. The captive never dashed wildly about to escape, but when I drew near sat and looked quietly at me without the slightest sign of alarm and with little apparent interest. A small trap-hold, even on the end of a single toe, was enough to retain the victim. On one occasion, while a cat thus held sat looking at me, it quietly reached to one side and sank its teeth into the bark of a small tree to which the trap was attached, and then resumed its air of unconcern. The tiger-cat brings within our fauna an in- teresting touch of the tropics and its exuber- ance of animal life. It is found in so small a corner of our territory, however, that, despite its mainly inoffensive habits, it is certain to be crowded out in the near future by the increased occupation of its haunts. RED FOX (Vulpes fulva and its relatives) Red foxes are characterized by their rusty red fur, black-fronted fore legs, and white- tipped tail. They inhabit the forested regions in the temperate and subarctic parts of both Old and New Worlds, and, like other types of animal life having a wide range, they break up into numerous distinct species and geographic races. In America they originally ranged over near- ly all the forested region from the northern limit of trees in Alaska and Canada south, east of the Great Plains, to Texas; also down the Rocky Mountains to middle New Mexico, and down the Sierra Nevada to the Mount Whitney region of California. They are un- known on the treeless plains of the West, in- cluding the Great Basin. Originally they were apparently absent from the Atlantic and Gulf States from Maryland to Louisiana, but have since been introduced and become common south to middle Georgia and Alabama. Wherever red foxes occur they show great mental alertness and capacity to meet the re- quirements of their surroundings. In New England they steadily persist, though their raids on poultry yards have for centuries set the hand of mankind against them. For a time conditions favored them in parts of the Middle Atlantic States, for the sport of hunt- ing to hounds was imported from England, and the foxes had partial protection. This exotic CROSS FOX RED FOX SILVER FOX The precious black and silver gray foxes are merely color phases occurring in litters of the ordinary red animal (see text, page 416) ALASKA RED FOX 417 418 amusement has now passed and the fox must everywhere depend on his nimble wits for safety. Since the days of A*sop’s fables tales of foxes and their doings have had their place in literature as well as in the folk-lore of the countryside. Many of their amazing wiles to outwit pursuers or to capture their prey give evidence of extraordinary mental powers. Their bill of fare includes many items, as mice, birds, reptiles, insects, many kinds of fruits, and on rare occasions a chicken. The bad name borne by them among farmers, due to occasional raids on the poultry yard, is largely unwarranted. They kill enormous numbers of mice and other small rodents each year, and thus well repay the loss of a chicken now and then. Red foxes apparently pair for life and oc- cupy dens dug by themselves in a secluded knoll or among rocks. “These dens, which are sometimes occtipied for years in succession, always have two or more entrances opening in opposite directions, so that an enemy entering on one side may be readily eluded. The young, numbering up to eight or nine, are tenderly cared for. by both parents. Although they have been persistently hunted and trapped in North America since the ear- liest times, they still yield a royal annual trib- ute of furs. It is well known that the highly prized cross, as well as the precious black, and silver gray foxes are merely color phases oc- curring in litters of the ordinary red animal. Black skins are so highly prized that specially fine ones have sold for more than $2,500 each in the London market. The reward thus of- fered has resulted in the development of black fox fur-farms, which have been very success- ful in parts of Canada and the United States, thus originating a valuable new industry. By the modern regulation of trapping, foxes and other fur-bearers are destined to survive wherever conditions are favorable. In addi- tion to the economic value of foxes, the loca- tion of an occasional fox den here and there on the borders of a woodland tract, the mean- dering tracks in the snow, and the occasional glimpse of animals cautiously making their rounds add a keen touch of primitive nature well worth preserving in any locality. ALASKA RED FOX (Vulpes kenaiensis) The red fox of the Kenai Peninsula, Alaska, and the adjacent mainland is probably the largest of its kind in the world, although those of Kodiak Island and of the Mackenzie River valley are nearly as large. Compared with its relatives of the United States, the Kenai fox is a giant, with heavier, duller-colored coat and a huge tail, more like that of a wolf than of a fox. The spruce and birch forests of Alaska and the Mackenzie Valley are appar- ently peculiarly adapted to red foxes, as shown by the development there of these animals— good illustrations of the relative increase in size and vigor of animals in a specially favor- able environment. THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE As noted in the general account of the red foxes, the occurrence of the black phase is sporadic, and the relative number of dark in- dividuals varies greatly in different parts of their range. The region about the upper Yu- kon and its tributaries and the Mackenzie River basin are noted for the number of black foxes produced, apparently a decidedly greater proportion than in any other similarly large area. The prices for which these black skins sell in the London market prove them to be of equal quality with those from any other area. Like other red foxes, the Alaskan species digs its burrows, with several entrances, in some dry secluded spot, where both male and female share in the care of the young. In northern wilds the food problem differs from that in a settled country. There the surrounding wild life is the only dependence, and varying hares, lemmings, and other mice are usually to be had by the possessor of a keen scent and an active body. In summer many nesting wild-fowl and their young are easy prey, while heathberries and other northern fruits are also available. Winter brings a season of scarcity, when life requires the exercise of ev ery trained faculty. The snow-white ptarmigan is then a prize to be gained only by the most skillful stalking, and the white hare is almost equally difficult to secure. At this season foxes wander many miles each day, their erratic tracks in the snow telling the tale of their industrious search for prey in every likely spot. It is in this season of insistent hunger that many of them fall vic- tims to the wiles of trappers or to the unscru- pulous hunter who scatters poisoned baits. Fortunately the season for trapping these and other fur-bearers in Alaska is now limited by law and the use of poisons is forbidden. These measures will aid in preserving one of the valuable natural assets of these northern wilds. GRAY FOX (Urocyon cinereoargenteus and its relatives) Gray foxes average about the size of common red foxes, but are longer and more slender in body, with longer legs and a longer, thinner tail. They are peculiar to America, where they have a wide range—from New Hampshire, Wiscon- sin, and Oregon south through Mexico and Central America to Colombia. Within this area there are numerous geographic forms closely alike in color and general appearance, but vary- ing much in size; the largest of all, larger than the red fox, occupying the New England States. Gray foxes inhabit wooded and brush-grown country and are much more numerous in the arid or semiarid regions of the southwestern United States and western Mexico than else- where. In parts of California they are far more numerous than red foxes ever become. They do not regularly dig a den, but occupy a hollow tree or cavity in the rocks, where they bring forth from three to five young each spring. As with other foxes, the cubs are born blind and helpless, and are also almost blackish in color, entirely unlike the adults. The par- DESERT FOX GRAY FOX eee 4us Coorn2 Guster BADGER 419 420 ents, as usual with all members of the dog family, are devoted to their young and care for them with the utmost solicitude. Like other members of the tribe, they are omnivorous and feed upon mice, squirrels, rab- bits, birds, and large insects, in addition to acorns or other nuts and fruits of all kinds. In Lower California they are very common about the date-palm orchards, which they visit nightly for fallen fruit. They also make noc- turnal visits to poultry yards. In some parts of the West they are called “tree foxes,” because when pursued by dogs they often climb into the tops of small branch- ing trees. On one occasion in Arizona I saw a gray fox standing in the top of a large, leaning mesquite tree, about thirty feet from the ground, quietly gazing in various directions, as though he had chosen this as a lookout point. As soon as he saw me he came down at a run and swiftly disappeared. In the same region I found a den in the hol- low base of an old live-oak containing three young only a few days old. The mother was shot as she sprang from the hole on my ap- proach and the young taken to camp. There the skin of the old fox, well wrapped in paper, was placed on the ground at one side of the tent, and an open hunting bag containing the young placed on the opposite side, about ten feet away. On returning an hour later, I was amazed to find that all three of the young, so small they could crawl only with the utmost difficulty, and totally blind, had crossed the tent and managed to work their way through the paper to the skin of their mother, thus show- ing that the acute sense of smell in these foxes becomes of service to them at a surprisingly early age. DESERT FOX (Vulpes macrotis and its subspecies) A small fox, akin to the kit fox or swift of the western plains, frequents the arid cactus- grown desert region of the Southwest. It is found from the southern parts of New Mex- ico, Arizona, and California south into the ad- jacent parts of Mexico. The desert fox is a beautiful species, slender in form, and extra- ordinarily quick and graceful in its movements, but so generally nocturnal in habits as to be rarely seen by the desert traveler. On the rare occasions when one is encountered abroad by day, if it thinks itself unobserved by the trav- eler it usually flattens itself on the ground be- side any small object which breaks the surface, and thus obscured will permit a horseman to ride within a few rods without moving. If the traveler indicates by any action that he has seen it, the fox darts away at extraordinary speed, running with a smooth, floating motion which seems as effortless as that of a drifting thistledown before a breeze. The desert fox digs a burrow, with several entrances, in a small mound, or at times on an open flat, and there rears four or five young each year. Its main food consists of kangaroo THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE rats, pocket mice, small ground-squirrels, and a variety of other small desert mammals. In early morning fox tracks, about the size of those of a house-cat, may be seen along sandy arroyos and similar places where these small carnivores have wandered in search of prey. Like the kit, the desert fox has little of the sophisticated mental ability of the red fox and falls an easy prey to the trapper. It is no- where numerous and occupies such a thinly in- habited region that there is little danger of its numbers greatly decreasing in the near future. BADGER (Taxidea taxus and its sub- species) The favorite home of the badger is on grassy, brush-grown plains, where there is an abundance of mice, pocket gophers, ground- squirrels, prairie-dogs, or other small mam- mais. There it wanders far and wide at night searching for the burrows of the small ro- dents, which are its chief prey. When its acute sense of smell announces that a burrow is occupied, it sets to work with sharp claws and powerful fore legs and digs down to the terrified inmate in an amazingly short time. The trail of a badger for a single night is often marked by hole after hole, each with a mound of fresh earth containing the tracks of the marauder. As a consequence, if several of these animals are in the neighborhood, their burrows, 6 or 8 inches in diameter, soon be- come so numerous that it is dangerous to ride rapidly through their haunts on horseback. Although a member of the weasel family, the badger is so slow-footed that when it is occasionally found abroad by day a man on foot can easily overtake it. When brought to bay, it charges man or dog and fights with such vicious power and desperation that noth- ing of its own size can overcome it. It appears to have a morose and savage nature, lacking the spice of vivacity or playfulness which ap- pears in many of its relatives. Although commonly found living by itself in a den, it is often found moving about by day in pairs, indicating the probability that it may mate permanently. In the northern part of its range it hibernates during winter, but in the south remains active throughout the year. Its shy and retiring character is evi- denced by the little information we have con- cerning its family life.» The badger is so de- structive to rodents that its services are of great value to the farmer. Regardless of this, where encountered it is almost invariably killed. As a consequence, the increasing occu- pation of its territory must result in its steady decrease in numbers and final extermination. The American badger is a close relative of the well-known badger occupying the British Isles and other northern parts of the Old World. It is a low, broad, short-legged, pow- erfully built animal of such wide distribution that it has developed several geographic races. Its range originally extended from about 58 degrees of latitude, on the Peace River, in THE PEARY CARIBOU ARCTIC WOLF One of the geographic forms of the Barren Ground Caribou (see text, page 460) 421 422 Canada, south to the plains of Puebla, on the southern end of the Mexican table-land, and from Michigan, Kansas, and Texas west to the Pacific coast. It has now become extinct over much of this area and is everywhere greatly reduced in numbers. j It appears to thrive equally well on the plains of Alberta, in the open pine forests of the Sierra Nevada in California, and on the dry tropical lowlands at the southern end of the Peninsula of Lower California. ARCTIC WOLF (Canis tundrarum) In order to fit properly into a high northern environment, Arctic wolves have developed white coats, which they wear throughout the year. They are among the largest of their kind and have all the surpassing vigor needful for successful beasts of prey in the rigors of such a home. Nature is more than ordinarily hard on weaklings in the far North and only the fittest survive. The range of the white wolves covers the treeless barren grounds bordering the Arctic coast of Alaska and Canada and extending thence across the Arctic islands to the north coast of Greenland beyond 83 degrees of lati- tude. The short summer in the far North is the season of plenty, during which swarms of wild- fowl furnish a bountiful addition to the regu- lar food supply. Young wolves are reared and the pack feeds fat, laying up a needed reserve strength for the coming season of darkness. When winter arrives lemmings and Arctic hares and an occasional white fox furnish an uncertain food supply for such insistent hun- eer as that of wolves, and larger game is a necessity. In the northern part of their range they share with the other denizens of that land the months of continuous night. There, amid re- lentless storms and iron frosts, the trail, once found, must be held to the end. The chase is made in the gloom of continuous night and the white caribou or musk-ox herd is brought to bay, and by the law of the pack food is pro- vided. White wolves are the one dreaded foe Na- ture has given the musk-ox and the caribou in the northern wilds. The number of the wolves, as with other carnivores, varies with the abun- dance of their chief prey, and they will disap- pear automatically with the caribou and musk- oxen. GRAY, OR TIMBER, WOLF (Canis nubilus and its relatives) Large wolves, closely related to those of Eu- rope and Siberia, once infested practically all of Arctic and temperate North America, ex- cepting only the arid desert plains. This range extended from the remotest northern lands be- yond 83 degrees of latitude south to the moun- tains about the Valley of Mexico. When America was first colonized by white THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE men, wolves were numerous everywhere in pro- portion to the great abundance of game ani- mals. With the increased occupation of the continent and the destruction of most of its large game, wolves have entirely disappeared from large parts of their former domain. They still occur in varying numbers in the forest along our northern border from Michigan westward, and south along the Rocky Moun- tains and the Sierra Madre to Durango, Mex- ico, and also in all the Gulf States. The variations in climate and other physical conditions within their range has resulted in the development of numerous geographic races, and perhaps of species, of wolves, which show marked differences in size and color. ‘The white Arctic wolf, described on pages 422 and 424, is one of the most notable of these, but the gray wolf of the Rocky Mountain region and the eastern United States is the best known. Since the dawn of history Old World wolves, when hunger pressed, have not hesitated to at- tack men, and in wild districts have become a fearful scourge. American wolves have rarely shown this fearlessness toward man, probably owing to the abundance of game before the advent of white men and to the general use of firearms among the pioneers. That wolves are extremely difficult to exterminate is shown by their persistence to the present day in parts of France and elsewhere in Europe. This is due both to their fecundity (they have from eight to twelve young), and to their keen intelli- gence, which they so often pit successfully against the wiles of their chief enemy—man. Gray wolves appear to mate permanently, and in spring their young are born in natural dens among great rocks, or in a burrow dug for the purpose in a hillside. There both par- ents exercise the greatest vigilance for the pro- tection of the young. The male kills and brings in game and stands guard in the neigh- borhood, while the mother devotes most of her time to the pups while they are very small. At other times of year packs made up of one or more pairs and their young hunt together with a mutual helpfulness in pursuing and bringing down their prey that shows a high order of in- telligence. Wolves are in fact first cousins of the dog, whose mental ability is recognized by all. During the existence of the great buffalo herds, packs of big gray “buffalo wolves” roamed the western plains, taking toll wher- ever it pleased them. Since these vast game herds have disappeared only a small fraction of the wolves have survived. There are enough, however, not only to commit great ravages among the deer and other game in northern Michigan and on the coastal islands of Alaska, but also to destroy much live stock in the Rocky Mountain region. So serious have the losses in cattle and sheep on the ranges become that Congress has re- cently made large appropriations for the de- struction of wolves and other predatory ani- mals, and these disturbers of the peace will soon become much reduced in numbers. The Beet Ggssia GuerIee GRAY, OR TIMBER, WOLF BLACK WOLF Swe a PLAINS COYOTE, OR PRAIRIE WOLF ARIZONA, OR MEARNS, COYOTE 423 424 necessity for action of this kind is shown by the recent capture in Colorado of a huge old dog wolf with a definite record of having killed about $3,000 worth of stock. Interesting as wolves are, filling their place in the wilder- ness, their habits bar them from being tol- erated in civilized regions. PLAINS COYOTE, OR PRAIRIE WOLF (Canis latrans) Western North America is inhabited by a peculiar group of small wolves, known as coyotes, this being a Spanish corruption of the Aztec name coyotl. They range from north- ern Michigan, northern Alberta, and British Columbia south to Costa Rica, and from west- ern Iowa and Texas to the Pacific coast. As a group they are animals of the open plains and sparsely wooded districts, ranging from sea-level to above timber-line on the highest mountains. ‘They are most at home on the wide brushy or grassy plains of the western United States and the table-lands of Mexico. Within their great area coyotes have devel- oped several distinct species and a number of geographic races, distinguished by differences in size, color, and other characteristics. Some attain a size almost equaling that of the gray wolf, while others are much smaller. They are less courageous and have less of the social instinct than gray wolves, and on the rare occasions when they hunt in packs they form, no doubt, a family party, including the young of the year. They appear to pair more or less permanently and commonly hunt in couples. The young, sometimes numbering as many as fourteen, are born in a burrow dug in a bank, or in a den among broken rocks and ledges. Young animals are readily tamed, and it is entirely probable that some of the dogs found by early explorers among western Indians may have descended from coyotes. Coyotes are a familiar sight to travelers in the wildest parts of the West. Here and there one is seen trotting through the sagebrush or other scrubby growth, or stopping to gaze curiously at the intruder. If suddenly alarmed, they race away across the plains with amazing speed. At night their high-pitched, wailing howls voice the lonely spirit of waste places. With the growth of settlement in the West and the steady decrease of large and small game, coyotes have become more and more de- structive to poultry and all kinds of live stock. As a result, every man’s hand is against them, reinforced by gun, trap, and poison. Despite years of this persistent warfare, their acute intelligence, aided by their extraordinary fe- cundity, has enabled them to hold their own over a great part of their original range. Their depredations upon live stock have been so great that many millions of dollars have been paid in bounties for their destruction. This method of control has proved so in- effective, however, that the Federal Govern- ment has engaged in the task of suppressing them, tegether with the other less numerous THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE predatory animals of the West, and has placed about 300 hunters in the field for this purpose. The complete destruction of coyotes would, no doubt, upset the balance of nature in favor of rabbits, prairie-dogs, and other harmful ro- dents, and thus result in a very serious in- crease in the destruction of crops. The coyote supplies much interest and local - color to many dreary landscapes and has be- come a prominent figure in the literature of the West. There it is usually symbolic of shifty cunning and fleetness of foot. What- ever his faults, the coyote is an amusing and interesting beast, and it is hoped that the day of his complete disappearance from our wild life may be far in the future. ARIZONA, OR MEARNS, COYOTE (Canis mearnsi) The Arizona coyote is one of the smallest and at the same time the most handsomely col- ored of all its kind. Its home is limited to the arid deserts on both sides of the lower Colorado River, but mainly in southwestern Arizona and adjacent parts of Sonora. ‘This is one of the hottest and most arid regions of the continent, and for coyotes successfully to hold their own there requires the exercise of all the acute intelligence for which they are noted. Instead of the winter blizzards and biting cold encountered in the home of the plains coyote, this southern species has to endure the furnacelike heat of summer, with occasional long periods of drought, when water-holes become dry, plant life becomes dor- mant, and a large part of the smaller mammal life perishes. The Arizona coyote, like others of its kind, is omnivorous. In seasons of plenty, rabbits, kangaroo rats, pocket gophers, and many other desert rodents cost only the pleasant excite- ment of a short stalk. With the changing sea- sons the flesh diet is varied by the sugary mesquite beans, juicy cactus fruit, and other products of thorny desert plants. Wherever sufficient water is available for irrigation, small communities of Indians or Mexicans are to be found About such centers many coyotes usually establish themselves and fatten on poultry, green corn, melons, and other fruits provided by the labor of man: Many of them also patrol the shores of the Gulf of California and feast upon the eggs of turtles and other spoils of the sea. The arrival of men at a desert water-hole is quickly known among these alert foragers, and when the travelers arise at daybreak they are likely to see tell-tale tracks on the sand where one or two coyotes have walked in and out be- tween their sleeping places and all about camp. Shortly afterward the campers, if inexperi- enced, may learn that bacon and other food are contraband and always confiscated by these dogs of the desert. These camp marauders often stand among the bushes only 75 or 100 yards away in the morning and watch the in- truders with much curiosity until some hostile movement starts them off in rapid flight. THE LARGER NORTH AMERICAN MAMMALS WHITE, OR ARCTIC, FOX (Alopex lagopus) The Arctic fox, clothed in long, fluffy white fur, is an extremely handsome animal, about two-thirds the size of the common red fox. It is a circumpolar species, which in America ranges over all the barren grounds beyond the limit of trees, including the coastal belt of tundra from the Peninsula of Alaska to Ber- ing Straits, the Arctic islands, and the frozen sea to beyond 83 degrees of latitude. The blue fox of commerce is a color phase of this species, usually of sporadic occurrence, like the black phase of the red fox. The white fox makes its burrow either in a dry mound, under a large rock, or in the snow, where its young are brought forth and cared for with the devotion which appears to characterize all foxes. How this small and delicately formed animal manages to sustain life under the rigorous winter conditions of the far north has always been a mystery to me. I have seen its tracks on the sea ice miles from shore. It regularly wanders far and wide over these desolate icy wastes, which can offer only the most remote chance for food. However, it appears to thrive, with other animal life, even where months of continuous night follow the long summer day. The food of the Arctic fox includes nearly all species of the wild-fowl which each summer swarm into the far North to breed. There on the tundras congregate myriads of ducks, geese, and waders, while on the cliffs and rocky islands are countless gulls and other water birds. In winter they find lemmings and other northern mice, occasional Arctic “hares, and ptarmigan, as well as fragments of prey left by Arctic wolves or polar bears. Now and then the carcass of a whale is stranded or frozen in the ice, furnishing an abundance of food, sometimes for a year or more, to the foxes which gather about it from a great dis- tance. Perhaps owing to its limited experience with man, the northern animal is much less sus- picious than the southern red fox. During winter sledge trips in Alaska I frequently had two or three of them gather about my open camp on the ccast, apparently fascinated by the little camp-fire of driftwood. ‘They would sit about, near by i in the snow, for an hour or two in the evening, every now and then utter- ing weak, husky barks like small dogs. The summer of 1881, when we landed from the Corwin on Herald Island, northwest of Bering Straits, we found many white foxes living in burrows under large scattered rocks on the plateau summit. They had never seen men before and our presence excited their most intense interest and curiosity. One and sometimes two of them followed closely at my heels wherever I went, and when I stopped to make notes or look about, sat down and watched me with absurd gravity. Now and then one at a distance would mount a rock to get a better view of the stranger. On returning to the ship, I remembered that 425 my notebook had been left on a large rock over a fox den, on the island, and at once went back for it. I had been gone only a short time, but no trace of the book could be found on or about the rock, and it was evident that the owner of the den had confiscated it. Sev- eral other foxes sat about viewing my search with interest and when I left followed me to the edge of the island. A nearly grown young one kept on the Corwin was extraordinarily intelligent, inquisitive, and mischievous, and afforded all of us much amusement and occa- sional exasperation. PRIBILOF BLUE FOX (Alopex lagopus pribilofensis) The blue fox is a color phase of the Arctic white fox and may occur anywhere in the range of the typical animal. In fact, the blue phase bears the same relationship to the white that the black phase does to the red fox. In the Pribilof, or Fur Seal, Islands of Alaska, however, through the influence of favorable climatic conditions, assisted by artificial selec- tion in weeding out white animals, the blue phase has become the resident form. Isola- tion on these islands has developed other char- acters also which, with the prevailing color, render the Pribilof animal a distinct geo- graphic race of the white species. A blue fox is also the prevailing resident animal in Ice- land. In years when fur-seals were killed in con- siderable numbers on the Pribilofs their car- casses remained on the killing grounds as a never-failing store of food through the winter. During summer there is an abundance of nest- ing water-fowl, and throughout the year there are mice on land and the products of the sea along shore. Asaresult the foxes have thrived amazingly and several hundred skins have been produced a year. With the lessening number of seals now being killed on the islands and the resulting scarcity of winter food, the fate of the foxes is somewhat in doubt. The Prib- ilof skins are of high market value, bringing from $40 to $150 each in the London market. Stock from the Pribilofs has been intro- duced on a number of the Aleutians and other Alaskan islands for fur-farming purposes. ‘The value of these fur-bearers is so great that spe- cial effort should be made not only to keep up the stock on the islands, but still further to improve it. The Pribilof foxes have from five to eleven young, which are usually born above ground and are later carried to the shelter of dens dug in the open or under the shelter of a rock. Foxes have become so accustomed to people on these islands that they have little fear and come about boldly to satisfy their curiosity or to seek for food. They often show an amus- ing interest in the doings of any one who in- vades the more remote parts of their domain. White animals born on the islands or coming in by chance when the pack ice touches there in winter are killed, whenever possible, in order to hold the blue strain true. LD XO4 aN1d AOTAId xOd ‘OILOUVY AO ALIHM 426 THE LARGER NORTH AMERICAN MAMMALS 427 WOLVERINE (Gulo luscus) The wolverine, or carcajou of the Canadian voyageurs, is a circumpolar species belonging to the northern forested areas of both conti- nents. In North America it formerly ranged from the northern limit of trees south to New England and New York, and down the Rocky Mountains to Colorado, and down the Sierra Nevada to near Mount Whitney, California. It is a low, squat, heavy-bodied animal, with strong legs and feet armed with sharp claws, and is the largest and most formidable of the weasel family. The wolverine is extraordinarily powerful and possesses what at times appears to be a diabolical cunning and persistence. It fre- quently trails trappers along their trap lines, eating or destroying their catches and at times hiding their traps. It is a tireless wanderer, and the hunter or traveler in the northern wilds always has this marauder in mind and is put to the limit of his wits to provide caches for his provisions or other supplies which it can not despoil. What it can not eat it is likely to carry away and hide. A wolverine has often been known to expend a surprising amount of labor in apparently deliberate mischief, even carrying numerous articles away from camps and hiding them in different places. It sometimes trails a traveler for many miles through winter snow, always out of sight, but alert to take advantage of any carelessness in leaving game or other food unguarded. Mingled with these mischievous traits the wolverine possesses a savage ferocity com- bined with a muscular power which renders it a dreaded foe of all but the largest animals of its domain. When guarding her young, the female is no mean foe, even for a man. As a consequence of its mental and physical character, the wolverine, more than any other animal of the north, has impressed itself on the imagination of both native and white hunt- ers and travelers. A vast amount of folk-lore has grown up about it and both Indians and Eskimos make offerings to propitiate its ma- lignant spirit. The Alaskan Eskimos trim the hoods of their fur garments with a strip of wolverine fur, and Eskimo hunters wear belts and hunting bags made of the skin of the legs and head, that they may acquire some of the power of the animal from which these came. The value of the handsome brown fur of the wolverine, as well as the enmity the animal earns among hunters and trappers, has resulted in its being so persistently hunted that it has become extinct over much of its former terri- tory, and wherever still found it is much re- duced in numbers. PACIFIC WALRUS (Odobenus obesus) The walruses, or “sea horses” of the old navigators, are the strangest and most gro- tesque of all sea mammals. Their large, rugged heads, armed with two long ivory tusks, and their huge swollen bodies, covered with hair- less, wrinkled, and warty skin, gives them a formidable appearance unlike that of any other mammal. They are much larger than most seals, the old males weighing from 2,000 to 3,000 pounds and the females about two-thirds as much. These strange beasts are confined to the Arctic Ocean and the adjacent coasts and islands and are most numerous about the bor- ders of the pack ice. Two species are known, one belonging to the Greenland seas, while the other, the Pacific walrus, is limited to Bering Sea and the Arctic basin beyond Bering Straits. The Pacific walruses migrate southward through Bering Straits with the pack ice in fall and spend the winter in Bering Sea and along the adjacent coast of eastern Asia. In spring they return northward through the straits and pass the breeding season about the ice pack, where they congregate in great herds. One night in July, 1881, the U. S. steamer Cor- win cruised for hours along the edge of the ice pack off the Arctic coast of Alaska and we saw an almost unbroken line of walruses hauled out on the ice, forming an extended herd which must have contained tens of thousands. Walruses were formerly very abundant in Bering Sea, especially about the Fur Seal Islands and along the coast north of the Pen- insula of Alaska, but few now survive there. Owing to the value of their thick skins, blub- ber, and ivory tusks, they have been subjected to remorseless pursuit since the early Russian occupation of their territory and have, as a re- sult, become extinct in parts of their former range and the species is now in serious danger of extermination. Like many of the seals, walruses have a strong social instinct, and although usually seen in herds they are not polygamous. ‘They feed mainly on clams or other shellfish, which they gather on the bottom of the shallow sea. On shore or on the ice they move slowly and with much difficulty, but in the water they are thor- oughly at home and good swimmers. When hauled out on land or ice, they usually lie in groups one against the other. ‘They are stupid beasts and hunters have no difficulty in killing them with rifles at close range. Walruses have a strongly developed mater- nal instinct and show great devotion and dis- regard of their own safety in defending the young. The Eskimos at Cape Vancouver, Ber- ing Sea, hunt them in frail skin-covered kyaks, using ivory- or bone- pointed spears and seal- skin floats. Several hunters told me of excit- ing and dangerous encounters they had experi- enced with mother walruses. If the young are attacked, or even approached, the mother does not hesitate to charge furiously. The hunters confess that on such occasions there is no op- tion but to paddle for their lives. Occasionally an old walrus is unusually vindictive and, after forcing a hunter to take refuge on the ice, will remain patrolling the vicinity for a long time, roaring and menacing the object of her anger. When boats approach the edge of the ice where walruses are hauled up, the animals plunge into the sea in a panic and rise all about ANIVAYA TOM SOA IVIGS LASS ID i> SIAL 4