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PUBLIC,

BRANCH LIBRARIES

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PEEPS AT
MANY LANDS

ITALY

LIST OF VOLUMES IN THE
PEEPS AT MANY LANDS
SERIES

EACH CONTAINING 12 FULL-PAGE
ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR

BURMA ITALY
EGYPT JAPAN
ENGLAND MOROCCO
FRANCE SCOTLAND
HOLLAND SIAM
HOLY LAND SOUTH AFRICA
ICELAND SOUTH SEAS
INDIA SWITZERLAND

A LARGER VOLUME
IN THE SAME STYLE

THE WORLD

Containing 37 full-page illustrations in
colour

PUBLISHED BY

ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
SOHO SQUARE, LONDON, W.

AMERICA

AUSTRALASIA .

CANADA

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AGENTS

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
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THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA LTD.
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A PERGOLA. LOOKING OUT ON MOUNT VESUVIUS

Chapter XIV.

PEEPS AT MANY LANDS

ITALY

JOHN FINNEMORE

WITH TWELVE FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
IN COLOUR

ADAM AND:,d!tARkE$ ''.BLACK

1908

TH-t NE^

PUBLIC LIBRARY

u o

ASTOR, LENOX AND
TH-DEN FOUNDATIONS.

C L_

Published September, 1907.
Reprinted January, i^oS ; DiCtmber,

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER

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PAGE

I. OVER THE ALPS TO ITALY ..... I

II. BESIDE AN ITALIAN LAKE ..... 4

III. BESIDE AN ITALIAN LAKE (continued) . . IO

IV. THE LOMBARD PLAIN . . . . . 14
V. THE QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC . . . • J9

VI. IN TUSCANY ....... 24

VII. THE CITY OF FLOWERS ; . . . .29

VIII. SOME FLORENTINE CUSTOMS . . . . -34

IX. AMONG THE APENNINES . . . . • 37

X. THE ETERNAL CITY ...... 43

XI. THE ETERNAL CITY (continued) . . . .48

XII. THE ROMAN CAMPAGNA . . . . • S2

XIII. AT NAPLES . . . . . . . 56

XIV. THE GREAT VOLCANO . . . . . 6 1
XV. THE BURIED CITIES ...... 64

XVI. IN SICILY ........ 68

xvii. IN SICILY (continued) ...... 73

XVIII. HOME LIFE IN ITALY . . . . . 78

XIX. THE ITALIAN PEASANT . . . . -83

* *

* ec «
« «

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

A PERGOLA LOOKING OUT ON MOUNT VESUVIUS frontispiece

AN ALPINE PASS IN SUMMER ......

A GARDEN AT CADENABBIA, LAKE COMO ...
THE VILLA PLINY, LAKE COMO . . . .

ENTRANCE TO THE GRAND CANAL, VENICE . . .
PIAZZA DELLA SIGNORIA, WITH THE PALAZZO VECCHIO,
FLORENCE .........

A SHOP IN THE MERCATO VECCHIO, FLORENCE . -
THE COLOSSEUM IN A STORM, ROME . . . .

HADRIAN'S TOMB, THE CASTLE OF ST. ANGELO, ROME .
THE ARCH OF CONSTANTINE, ROME . . . .

NAPLES AND MOUNT VESUVIUS ...

A STREET IN POMPEII .... .

A SHRINE IN VENICE on the

FACING PAGE

9
1 6
25

41
48

64
73
80

cover

Sketch-Map of Italy on page viii

VI 1

AUSTRIA

BOSNIA

Str. of Bonifacio

TYRRHENIAN

«// of

Toronto

AFRICA

SKETCH-MAP OF ITALY.

Vlll

ITALY

CHAPTER I

OVER THE ALPS TO ITALY

"A land

Which was the mightiest in its old command,
And is the loveliest, and must ever be
The master-mould of Nature's heavenly hand;
Wherein were cast the heroic and the free,
The beautiful, the brave, the lords of earth and sea.'*

"The commonwealth of Kings, the men of Rome !
And ever since, and now, fair Italy !
Thou art the garden of the world, the home
Of all Art yields, and Nature can decree ;
Even in thy desert, what is like to thee ?
Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste
More rich than other climes' fertility ;
Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced
With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced."

Ckilde Harold.

THE traveller of to-day rushes into the most lovely
country of Europe by train, through tunnels pierced in
the vast mountain chain of the Alps. But travellers

IT. I I

Peeps at Many Lands

of other days did not enter Italy so easily. They
climbed out of France or Switzerland by roads which
zigzagged up the broad flanks of the mighty hills,
traversed lofty passes where winter reigned, and then
their road ran down, down to the sunny Italian plain.

This is the true way to enter Italy ; and there are
still travellers who pass over the Alps, as all men had
to do until the railway engineer ran his tunnels through
the vast mountain walls which enclose Italy on the
north. With the advent of the motor-car more
tourists are beginning to use these ancient ways, and
they do not find themselves lonely upon them, for,
besides the peasantry of the districts through which
they pass, there is, and has always been, a steady stream
of traffic over the passes. The Italian workman, the
peddler, the wayfarers of the humbler sort, have always
stuck to the open road on account of its cheapness.
Rather than pay railway fares, or being without the
money to do so, they trudge over the Alps.

A trip over an Alpine pass in early summer is of
deep interest. Climbing from the Swiss side, our
carriage or motor-car mounts steadily by smooth roads
cleverly cut in the slopes of the hills, so that the easiest
way of ascent is taken. As we rise the air grows
colder and colder, and the snow-line draws nearer and
nearer. Now the wheels of the carriage crunch arid
grind over ice and snow, and coats and wraps are
drawn closer as the travellers thread the wintry pass.

Here the road is marked by posts which stand above
the snow, and glaciers hang high above the path. The
greatest danger in the pass is the fall of an avalanche.

AH ALPINE PASS IN SUMMER. fajfg 2.

Over the Alps to Italy

A field of ice and snow will sometimes break loose
from a steep slope and slide down the hillside, carrying
all before it. All that comes in its path is engulfed in
its rushing mass and overwhelmed. A small avalanche
may at times be started by a very slight impulse, such
as the rolling of a heavy carriage past the slope where
a mass of ice and snow is insecurely resting, or even by
voices shouting and singing in the rare thin air, but a
small avalanche may prove extremely dangerous.

At last the farther side of the pass is gained, and on
a clear day a halt is made to survey the scene. If we
are crossing by the Spliigen, the famous pass almost in
the centre of the Alpine chain, which leads from
Switzerland into Italy, we shall enjoy a magnificent
prospect. Before us the Alps fall away to the plain of
Lombardy, and the vast level, far below, stretches away
until it is lost in the blue haze of immense distance.

Now the descent begins. Soon the snow is left
behind, and the road winds through rocky gorges,
where sombre lines of fir and pine stand rigid on the
hillside. Faster and faster rolls our carriage down the
easy slope, and as it goes we feel that the air gets
softer and softer, and the peasants' cottages are shadowed
by walnuts and sweet chestnut-trees. Down again, and
wraps are thrown aside, for the keen, biting air of the
icy pass is being rapidly exchanged for the glowing
heat of summer.

Now the vine begins to appear, the chalets of the
hills give place to houses with colonnades, the pointed
church spires to tall white campaniles. The plain
opens out, spreading under a glorious sky of cloudless

3 i—2

Peeps at Many Lands

blue, its little white-walled hamlets sleeping in the hot
sun, its orange-groves perfuming the air. We roll on
past ancient towns, whose crumbling walls are em-
bowered in thickets of myrtle, pomegranate and
oleander trees. We see the dark, lofty cypress stand,
a pillar of dusky shade, against the gleaming white walls
of some great villa. We are in Italy.

CHAPTER II

BESIDE AN ITALIAN LAKE

COMING down from the Splugen, the traveller arrives at
the shore of Lake Como, and finds himself in the region
of the Italian Lakes, those lovely sheets of water whose
beauties draw hosts of admirers from all parts of
Europe.

Como is a long, narrow lake with arms which run
deeply into the recesses of the hills. From whatever
point it may be approached, this glorious lake is full of
charm, with its spreading sheet of water, blue as the
sky which hangs above, its noble mountains which
spring high above its shores, the towns and pretty
villages which cluster along the shore and dot the
pleasant slopes which run down to the water's edge.
The roads leading to the lake wind among these white
hamlets half hidden in rich vineyards or enfolding
woodland, and at every turn of the way fresh views of
the most enchanting and romantic beauty hold the
traveller spellbound with the witchery of the scene.

Beside an Italian Lake

A soft blue haze envelops woodland, water, and moun-
tain, and gives to every feature of the landscape a
dreamy charm which fascinates the beholder.

Afloat, the effect is, if possible, still more striking.
The eye is led gently over the smooth sheet of shining
blue to the shore, where meadows and orchards and
vineyards climb the slopes, past villas whose walls gleam
white or pink in the sun, past churches from whose
campaniles mellow bells ring out, up to the bold,
rocky heights and inaccessible precipices of tall moun-
tains, which tower far above, and whose heads in late
spring are still capped with snow.

Nor is the eye ever wearied with gazing, for there is
no monotony in the scene. The ever-changing effects
of sun and shade, of morning and evening light, of fair
weather and of storm, keep up a constant play and
interplay of colour and contrast which is a fresh delight
from moment to moment.

The shores of Como are dotted with numberless
villas and hotels, while a fleet of little boats lies at
every landing-place, with merry, dark-eyed boatmen,
who are eager to row the visitors about the lake. But
it may well happen, as these smiling, active fellows
pull your skiff into some quiet, secluded bay, that you
see their faces change as their eyes fall on a torpedo-
boat lying there with steam up, as if its commander
expected to be off at any instant in pursuit of some
enemy or evil-doer. And so he does expect, for he is
posted there to check smuggling and capture smugglers,
and our merry fellows at the oars are often peaceful
boatmen by day and smugglers by night.

Peeps at Many Lands

Why is this ? It is because Italy is one of the most
heavily taxed countries in Europe. Her frontiers
bristle with custom-houses, where officers are posted to
levy taxes on the goods which come into the country.
It is true at home that we also lay duties and taxes on
various articles, and yet have but little smuggling. But
our duties are laid, in the main, on luxuries, and only
slightly on necessities. In Italy a ruthless tax is laid
upon the commonest necessities of the poor, as well as
the luxuries of the rich. Again, there are certain articles
which the Government reserves as monopolies — that is,
they can only be bought from the Government officers
— and, to obtain money, these articles are sold at high
prices, much above their real value. Such things as salt,
matches, sugar, petroleum, spirits, and tobacco are so
dear that the poorer classes can hardly afford to use them.

Now, the peasantry of Italy are very poor. This
most lovely land, with its many fertile plains, is so ill-
governed that the people are borne down under a
grievous burden of taxation. In many a picturesque
hamlet, embowered in vines and olive-groves, where
the myrtle gives out its delicious sweetness under a sky
of the most enchanting blue, there is bitter and grind-
ing poverty. To take one example, it is a common
thing for the peasants to go to bed at sunset in the
winter months because the light of a lamp is a luxury
which they cannot afford. The Government levies so
heavy a duty on petroleum that they are unable to buy
it. But across the Swiss frontier, not far away, petro-
leum is cheap enough, and so are many other things
which are very dear in Italy,

Beside an Italian Lake

So the young men find at once both excitement and
profit in smuggling cargoes of contraband goods from
one country to the other. At dead of night loads of
goods are brought down from some lonely pass which
leads to the frontier and carried to a solitary creek in
the shores of the lake. Here the bales are swiftly
embarked, and the boat is driven by strong and skilful
oarsmen to some hiding-place, whence its contents will
be distributed over the country-side. The smugglers
find plenty of customers, for their articles are good, and
they sell them at half the price of the regular traders
who have had to pay the Government duty.

But what is the Government doing all this time ? It
is doing its utmost to catch the smugglers, and for that
purpose it not only maintains torpedo-boats on the
lake, but also a system of small boats. These small
rowing-boats are manned by an officer and a picked
crew of five oarsmen, who stand up to row, and drive
the boat at great speed as they patrol the creeks, bays,
and inlets at all hours of the day and night. Further,
a powerful electric light has been placed in position to
sweep the lake, and by night this strong searchlight
turns its blinding radiance hither and thither in search
of suspicious vessels.

How, then, do the smugglers escape through this
close-drawn net ? Ah ! that brings us to another un-
fortunate point in Italian government. Far too many
of its officials are corrupt — they can be bribed to look
another way while the Government they have sworn to
serve is robbed.

A lake-boat, laden deep in the water, steals out of a

Peeps at Many Lands

little creek ; the searchlight is turned another way as
the smugglers glide off into the darkness. An officer
is on patrol ; he searches all inlets on his beat save one.
He knows perfectly well what that inlet holds. Nay,
more, an officer has been known to be present at a run
of smuggled goods, and to carefully count each bale
and package to be sure that the smugglers handed over
to him his proper share of the illegal gains. It is no
wonder that smuggling flourishes along Lake Como.

As a visitor is being rowed along the lake, his boat-
man will often open a secret locker and bring out
smuggled tobacco or cigars or other goods, and beg
him to buy. But those who know the men best
declare that it is very wrong to encourage them. The
money thus easily earned goes in drunkenness and dis-
sipation, and is a source of great harm to the smuggler
himself.

At some points of the lake, great walls of rock spring
sheer from the water arid tower hundreds of feet above.
On a hot day it is delightful to lie in the shadow of
these precipices or row gently along their base. But
caution is needed, for danger may be near. Very often
there is a meadow on top of the rock far above. The
peasants cut their hay in the meadows, dry it, and
collect it in small stacks. On each stack is placed a
boulder of rock or a big stone to prevent the hay being
whirled over the precipice by a sudden storm of wind.
When the peasant carries the hay from the meadow, he
hurls the stones down the slopes, and they bound along
and leap over the precipice, and plunge into the water
far below with terrific force. Very often the overhang-

A GARDEN AT CADENAB8IA, LAKE COMO. /'if.i.r« y.

Beside an Italian Lake

ing rocks hide from his view the boat on the lake, and
it is no pleasant experience for those in the skiff to see
a huge stone whistle upon them and crash into the
water near at hand.

The boatmen are also fishermen, for Lake Como
abounds in fish. Splendid trout are taken in the nets
up to twenty pounds in weight, and there are huge
pike, with perch, tench, and other fish. At night you
may often hear a pleasant sound of bells chiming softly
from the bosom of the lake. They are the bells which
the fisherman has fastened to floats to mark the position
of his nets, to guide him to them in the darkness.
Striking, too, is the sight of the boat which glides along
in the shallow water near the shore with a great torch
flaring in the bows. The light falls upon a fisherman
who stands beside it with a spear in his hands. Now
and again he darts his spear swiftly into the water, and
strikes a fish which has been attracted by the light.
There is a gleam of silver as the fish is tossed inboard,
and then the fisherman poises himself anew for a fresh
stroke. The thing looks perfectly simple, but is by no
means so. The raw hand is likely, not only to miss
his fish, but may easily overbalance himself and topple
headlong into the water.

IT.

Peeps at Many Lands

CHAPTER III

BESIDE AN ITALIAN LAKE (continued]

OF the numberless villas along the shores of Lake
Como, none is more interesting than the Villa of Pliny
at the southern end of the lake. It takes its name
from the famous Roman writer, the younger Pliny,
who loved to escape from the corrupt and violent life
of Rome under the Empire, and give himself up to the
quiet delights of a country house amid these beautiful
scenes.

Many others of the old Romans felt the charm of
Como, and the lakeside was dotted by their villas.
Pliny possessed several such retreats .along its shores,
but his name clings to this southern corner, where a
splendid villa stands in a most striking position.

The Villa of Pliny is lapped in front by the waters
of the lake, and behind, the hillside springs up like a
wall, but a wall thickly covered with woods. So
shrouded and overhung by mountains and crags is this
great building that for a great part of the year it is
sunless. In the height of summer the sun falls upon
its front only for a few hours of the day, and a deep
silence always broods over this place, standing alone in
solitary grandeur.

The present house is not that which was inhabited
by the great Roman philosopher. It was erected in
1 5 70 by a great Italian noble, and has passed through

Beside an Italian Lake

various hands. It is only used for a few weeks in the
year. During the most intense heat of summer it is
pleasant ; at other times it is too damp and cold.

The villa has kept its connexion with the name of
Pliny because of its mysterious spring, which puzzled
Pliny so much, and whose movements no one can
explain to-day. The marvel of this spring is its ebb
and flow, and the words of Pliny, who saw it and
described it nearly two thousand years ago, are just as
true as ever. He says : <c A spring rises in the moun-
tain, runs down among the rocks, and is received in an
artificial chamber, where one can take one's midday
meal. After a short halt there, it falls into the Lake
of Como. Its nature is extraordinary. Three times in
the day it increases and decreases with regular rise and
fall. This is plainly visible, and most interesting to
watch. You lie beside it and eat your food, while
you drink of the spring itself, which is intensely cold.
Meantime it either rises or falls with sure and measured
movements. Place a ring, or any other article you
please, upon a dry spot. The water reaches and, at
length, covers it ; again it slowly retires and leaves the
object dry. If you watch long enough, you may see
this process repeated a second and a third time."

A few miles away there is another wonderful spring,
known as the Fiume di Latte (the Stream of Milk).
This is a cascade of milk-white water, which bursts
from a cavern in the hillside and rushes down into the
lake. This, too, ebbs and flows, though not so regu-
larly as Pliny's Spring. One day the waterfall is a
rushing torrent ; the next it has reduced its flow ; the

II 2 — 2

Peeps at Many Lands

next it is almost dry. Then, just as suddenly, it bursts
out again in all its former volume. Nor can these
change's be dependent on the melting of snow and ice,
for the torrent has been known to descend with summer
force in mid-winter, and to disappear in summer when
the snow-fields are melting fast. " The water of Fiume
di Latte is of an icy coldness, so much so that fruit,
meat, fish, or other perishable articles can be kept fresh
in it for days during the hottest weather."

The excursion to Fiume di Latte is usually made
from the little town of Varenna, nestling under a
wooded hill and facing the sun. The hill is crowned
by a tower, the last fragment of a castle, where Theo-
dolinda, Queen of Lombardy, once dwelt. Theodo-
linda is a famous name in early Italian history, and she
was the daughter of a King of Bavaria. In the sixth
century Flavius, King of the Lombards, sent to ask for
the hand of Theodolinda. He had never seen her, and
in order to gain a glimpse of the lady before commit-
ting himself finally to the marriage, he accompanied his
Ambassadors in disguise.

But so great was the beauty and charm of Theo-
dolinda that Flavius loved her at first sight, and she
loved him. Within a year after the marriage Flavius
died suddenly, and Theodolinda was left alone to rule
over Lombardy. By this time the Lombards loved her
so much that they said they would accept as their King
anyone whom she might choose as a second husband.
She married the Duke of Turin, and converted him to
Christianity, for he had been a pagan and an avowed
enemy to the Pope, St. Gregory the Great. St. Gregory

Beside an Italian Lake

was so delighted with this happy change of a powerful
enemy into a friend that he sent to Theodolinda a
fillet of iron, believed to have been made from one of
the nails used on the Cross.

From this present springs the oldest and most famous
crown in the world, the Iron Crown of Lombardy.
The fillet of iron was placed in a gold crown, and the
diadem is carefully preserved at the Cathedral of Monza.
When the present King of Italy followed his murdered
father, he took the oath and spoke to his people with
the Iron Crown of Lombardy on his head.

Bellagio, the haunt of tourists, is a picturesque little
town standing on a bold promontory. The view from
the headland is of marvellous beauty, and embraces a
vast stretch of the lake. This part of the lake is subject
to sudden storms, and near Bellagio a newly-married
Queen with all her bridal train was once nearly lost.
In 1493 Bianca Sforza, daughter of the Duke and
Duchess of Milan, was married with great pomp and
splendour to the King of the Romans. On the fourth
day after her marriage Bianca, travelling to rejoin her
husband, who had gone to prepare a suitable reception
for her in his Empire, embarked on the Lake of Como
in a magnificent State galley driven by forty picked
rowers. Thirty other vessels, filled with her train and
escort, followed the splendid barge. Bellagio was
reached in safety, and the night spent there. The next
morning the galleys had scarcely left the shore when a
sudden and terrible storm lashed the lake into foam.
All day the rowers strove to urge the galley back to
the land, but their efforts were vain, and it was nightfall

Peeps at Many Lands

before the bride regained Bellagio, after a day of fearful
tempest.

In the next century a lady of the same house
might have been Queen of England had she wished.
Henry VIII. wished to marry the Duchess Cristina
Sforza, but that lady was too clever for him, and made
the delightful and witty reply " that unfortunately she
had only one head ; but that, had she two, one of
them should be at the King of England's service."

CHAPTER IV

THE LOMBARD PLAIN

AT the southern foot of the Alps we find " that vast
tract that lies between the Alps and the Adriatic Sea,
and which is still distinguished by the vague appella-
tion of Lombardy. This beautiful plain, fenced, as it
were, by its snowy ridges, smiling like a garden,
spreading like an ocean, with a hundred rivers rushing
from the hills, a hundred towns glittering on the plain,
exhibits all the vigour of eternal youth."

The Lombard Plain forms the most wealthy and
prosperous district of Italy. The land is better cul-
tivated than in the southern parts of the peninsula; the
townspeople are more alert and enterprising. The
Lombard of old days was well known as a merchant
and a money-changer ; the Lombard to-day is a keen
business man, and thrives in whatever pursuit he may
undertake. The plain contains many important towns,

The Lombard Plain

chief among them being Milan, one of the greatest of
Italian cities. The glory of Milan is its magnificent
cathedral, the Duomo, a glorious building of white
marble. Seen in the bright Italian sunshine, the great
building is a dazzling picture of wonderful beauty. It
is covered from pavement to tower with statues and
richly-wrought sculpture, and from every corner spring
sharp spires of glittering white marble. The whole
mass looks like a beautiful piece of frost-work which
has been rendered permanent. This impression becomes
stronger when we learn that the design of this noble
building was taken from the form of Monte Rosa, the
great Alp which lies in sight of the cathedral. The
spires of the Duomo resemble in the most striking
fashion the sharp splinters of icy crags which spring
from the shoulders of the great mountain. " On a
clear day the view, from the roof, of the Alps is a sight
neither to be forgotten nor described. The huge mass
of Monte Rosa, shining like silver in the sun, is perhaps
the most conspicuous feature, with many of the higher
peaks around Zermatt. Behind rise the tips of the
loftier peaks of the Bernese Oberland. In the middle
distance is the Plain of Lombardy, with its white towns
and villages, each with its church and campanile. In
the foreground, surrounding the cathedral, lies the
city, with its streets and houses, churches, palaces, and
theatres."

The word " theatres ' brings to mind the immense
opera-house, La Scala, of which the Milanese are so
proud. This famous building has for more than a
hundred years been in the forefront in bringing out

Peeps at Many Lands

great operas and wonderful singers, and the greatest of
the latter do not consider their careers complete until
they have sung at La Scala.

But Milan was famous for music long before La
Scala v/as built. It was at Milan that Mozart brought

out his first opera when he was only fourteen years old.
This wonderful genius wrote music in his infancy, and
at fourteen was a master. But when his opera was
nearly finished there was a panic among those who
were to bring it out. The great prima donna, the
chief singer, was not willing to appear. How was it
likely, she asked, that a little boy of fourteen could
compose music fit for her to sing ? The music was
shown her. She tried it over, and her astonishment
was complete. It was lovely, and she was now eager
to take the part. The first night came, and the opera
was given. It was a triumphant success, and the vast
and delighted audience cheered to the very echo the
little boy who came forward to make his bow as the
composer of the opera.

Leaving the city for the plains, we find Lombardy
a land full of charm. The road winds by hills clothed
with chestnut and tulip trees, and crested with cypress
and olive. Campaniles and towers shine white from
amid the bright green of the vineyards, and under the
hedges trail the broad leaves of the water-melon, half
shading the great fruit swelling in the sun. Then the
road turns under a dark portal in old grey walls,
and enters an ancient town, and wanders through it,
and out into the open country again.

On every hand lie the holdings of peasant or farmer,

THE VILLA PLINY LAKE COMO.

TO.

The Lombard Plain

and the busy North Italian is to be seen in his fields
from dawn to dark, tending his many crops. Here
and there long lines of mulberry-trees are growing,
for the rearing of silkworms is a great industry of
Lombardy. This business is not so prosperous as it
formerly was. Disease made dreadful ravages among
both the silkworms and the mulberry-trees some half-
century ago, and almost killed the silk industry. It
has now recovered to a large extent, but the profits are
nothing like so large as they used to be.

Another blow at the pocket of the Lombard peasant
was a blight which affected the vines, and destroyed
almost all the vineyards of Lombardy. A new stock
of hardier vines has now been planted, and the wine
trade is making way steadily.

But of all the terrors of the North Italian farmer,
none is so dreadful as hail. Sometimes, on a summer
day, when the crops are in full growth and everything
looks promising for a plentiful harvest, a vast black
cloud draws over the sky. The storm bursts in
thunder, lightning, and heavy hailstones. The latter
fall with such terrific force that often within ten to
fifteen minutes they will destroy the whole of the
standing crops, leaving the fields a whitened desert.
Nor can the prudent protect themselves against this
dreadful danger. So widespread are the ravages of
hail that insurance companies will not insure farmers
against it.

But of late science has begun to assist the unfortunate
people who thus see the labours of many months
destroyed in a few minutes. Cannons are fired at the
IT 17 3

Peeps at Many Lands

storm-clouds to burst them. The cannons are shaped
like sugar-loaves, and are loaded with a special
powder When the storm threatens, the cannons are
discharged and the hail falls, not in the form of the
dreaded lumps of ice, but as fine snow or sharp sleet.
« In stormy summer weather a stranger in
Italy would think himself on a battle-field from the
noise of artillery which he hears all around him."

The Lombard peasant lives in the most frugal
fashion His morning meal is of polenta, made of
maize flour, and this he washes down with water
His dinner is of soup made of rice thickened with
cabbages and turnips, and a little lard mingled with it
to give a flavour. He also takes raw vegetables with
oil and vinegar, and the day when he adds eggs,
cheese, and dried fish to his bill of fare is looked upon
as a time of feasting. Butcher's meat he scarcely ever
buys except for a grand affair such as a wedding ;
he searches the fields and hedgerows for hedgehogs,
frogs, and snails, and the latter in many parts are
considered great delicacies. The wine which he^used
to drink freely has now become a luxury. Diseas.
among the vines has caused the common wine' of the
country to become much dearer, and he does not taste
it except on feast-days.

The Queen of the Adriatic

CHAPTER V

THE QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC

FROM Lombardy the railway runs on eastward across the
plains, which soon become a marsh with long, coarse
grass waving about little lakes and long, winding pools
of water between banks of sand. The east wind
brings a fresh salt tang from the sea, and we know
that the Adriatic is at hand, and look out and see the
broad, bright lagoon spread before us. And, rising in
the distance over the blue waves, a host of towers,
domes, and campaniles spring skywards, lifting them-
selves, as it were, from the bosom of the sea. It is
Venice. " There stands the city of St. Mark —
miraculous, a thing for giants to wonder at, and fairies
to copy if they could !

"The wonder leaps upon the traveller all at once,
arriving over the broad plains of Italy, through fields
of wheat and gardens of olives, through vineyards and
swamps of growing rice, across broad rivers and
monotonous flats of richest land. The means of
arrival, indeed, are commonplace enough ; but, lo ! in
a moment you step out of the commonplace railway-
station into the lucid stillness of the water city — into
poetry and wonderland.

" The moon rising above shines upon pale palaces,
dim and splendid, and breaks in silver arrows and broad
gleams of whiteness upon the ripple and soft glistening

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Peeps at Many Lands

movement of the canal, still, yet alive with a hundred
reflections, and a soft pulsation and twinkle of life.
The lights glitter above and below— every star, every
lamp doubled. Then comes the measured sweep of
the oars, and you are away on the silent, splendid
road, all darkling, yet alive. Not a sound less
harmonious and musical than the soft plash of the
water against the marble steps and grey walls, the
waves' plash against your boat, the wild cry of the
boatmen as they round each sharp corner, or the
singing of some wandering boatful of musicians on the
Grand Canal, disturbs the quiet. Across the flat
Lido, from the Adriatic, comes a little breath of fresh
wind ; and when, out of a maze of narrow water-lanes,
you shoot out into the breadth and glorious moonlight
of the Grand Canal, and see the lagoon go widening
out, a plain of dazzling silver, into the distance, and
great churches and palaces standing up pale against the
light, what words can describe the novel, beautiful

i"
scene !

The Grand Canal of Venice is the most splendid of
the myriad waterways which thread this city of the sea.
The Rialto, the most beautiful bridge of Venice, crosses
it in a single span, and it is lined on either hand with
the splendid homes of the ancient Venetian nobility.
It is the most wonderful street in the world : its
houses are palaces, its carriages are gondolas, its buses
are steamboats, the waves lap its doorsteps. Hundreds
of other canals branch out in every direction, and serve
as streets to this silent city where no wheels roll, no
whips crack, and where the toot of the motor-car is not

The Queen of the Adriatic

heard. Whence sprung this wondrous city of the
waters ?

More than fifteen hundred years ago there were
troublous times in Lombardy. Barbarian hordes from
the north swept into the fruitful plain, and harried it
with fire and sword. Fleeing before these savage
invaders, a people called the Veneti took refuge on the
mud-banks which lay amid the lagoon at the mouth of
the River Lido. Here they built their huts of mud
and wattle, became fishermen, and lived in safety.

In time they became sailors and traders. None
knew the waterways and lagoons as they did, nowhere
could be found more bold and skilful seamen. Venice
grew rapidly, and formed herself into a republic.
Century after century passed, and she prospered in
marvellous fashion. Her merchants became nobles,
her ruler a great Prince called the Doge, the Duke of
Venice. Through her hands passed the commerce
between Europe and the East, and vast wealth was
gained by her sons.

This wealth they used to beautify the city which
they loved so much. Into every mud -bank and
ooze-spit piles were driven until a sound foundation
had been secured. Upon these foundations rose
splendid palaces and noble churches, built of stone, of
coloured marble, of every material that was rich and
rare. And when these glorious buildings were finished
they were decorated within and without by painters,
sculptors, workers in mosaic, and enriched by the
treasures which the Venetian navies brought home
from every city which they seized and sacked.

Peeps at Many Lands

Nowhere can this burning passion to adorn their
beloved city be better traced than in the famous San
Marco, the Church of St. Mark, the Cathedral of
Venice. St, Mark's is one of the wonders of the
world, and its piazza is always haunted by lovers of
the beautiful, gazing upon this marvellous building,
and entering to see the glories within. From the
square it scarcely looks like a church. It has no
towers, no spires, and is crowned with domes like a
mosque. Its porticoes gleam with mosaics on a ground
of gold, and four magnificent horses, cast in bronze,
rear themselves before an immense stained-glass window,
Its pillars are of porphyry and ancient marbles, its
gables are adorned with splendid statues, and it is beau-
tified with a thousand spoils of wealth and art seized in
the days of the greatness of Venice. " A strange and
mysterious, exquisite and barbaric building, an immense
heaping up of riches, a pirates' church formed of pieces,
stolen or won from every civilization."

44 When one enters from the bright sun, St. Mark's
appears dim and dark. At first you can see nothing ;
but as your eyes become accustomed to the darkness,
colours begin to grow upon you out of the gloom.
Some minutes must elapse before you realize that the
floor, which at first you took to be of deep-toned grey
stone, is a mosaic composed of thousands of differently
coloured marbles — that you are walking on precious
marbles of peacock hues. Golden gleams above your
head attract you to the domed ceiling, and, to your
delight and amazement, you discover that it is formed
entirely of gold mosaic. You are passing a dim recess,

The Queen of the Adriatic

and you see a blurred mass of rich colour ; after a time
you realize that you are looking at a famous master-
piece by one of the great Italian painters. You sit
there as in a dream ; and one by one the pictures and
the mosaics, the Gothic images, the cupolas, the arches,
the marbles, the alabaster, the porphyry, and the jasper
appear to you — until what was darkness and gloom
appears to be teeming and vibrating with colour."

In a dim and hidden corner of this great church
stands a quaint little statue to which a story hangs. It
is the figure of an old man, leaning on crutches, with
a finger on his lip. He it was who built St. Mark's,
and he was brought to Venice from the East, for his
renown as an architect had spread far and wide. He
was a dwarf, ugly and bow-legged ; but he agreed to
build the splendid church on condition that one of its
chief ornaments should be a statue of himself, and the
Doge was compelled to assent. But one day the Doge
heard the old man mutter to himself that he could not
build the place just in the way he wished. " Then,'*
said the Doge, " I am free from my promise." And
he put up only a small statue of the great architect in
a hidden corner.

The Palace of the Doges is still to be seen, but the
name and power of the Dukes of Venice have long
since departed. In old days there was no more splendid
sight than the annual feast, when the Doge went in
state to acknowledge the union of the splendid city
with the sea, which was at once its protection and its
source of wealth. Rowed in the State barge, and
attended by the splendid vessels of the Venetian nobles,

Peeps at Many Lands

he went to a certain spot, and there dropped into the
waters a ring of priceless value as a token that Venice
was the bride of the sea.

Springing across a canal beside the Palace of the
Doges is the most famous bridge of Venice, the
Bridge of Sighs. It leads from the State palace to the
State prison, and across it has been led many a prisoner
who, with a despairing sigh, took from its windows a
last glimpse of the sunny world of freedom, for before
him lay either a cruel death or imprisonment for life
in the gloomy dungeons where no ray of sunshine ever
fell.

CHAPTER VI

IN TUSCANY

THE province of Tuscany lies between the Northern
Apennines and the Mediterranean, and is a delightful
land of little olive-crowned hills, of quaint cities, grey-
walled and sun-browned, lying in the green lap of
meadows and vineyards, while far away snowy mountain
tops close in the lovely scene. Within her borders lie
some of the most famous cities of Italy, and her tongue
is that adopted as correct Italian.

There is a bewildering confusion of tongues in Italy.
Each province has not only its own mode of speech,
but many local dialects as well. These often differ so
widely from each other that an uneducated man, speak-
ing only his own local Italian, is often at sea when quite

•:
S
UJ

Z
•:
I'

In Tuscany

a short di from home and

) nan

people. As one writer remarks, "A mountain a
hedge, a running brook is sufficient to mark off a new
language. Some time ago an Italian writer bu£j
a volume contammg one story of Boccaccio translated
See "

local speech, and that would be quite beyond L ^
of a foreigner to grasp, even if he were an excellent
Itahan scholar in the usual sense of the word

This pleasant land is tilled by the dark-eyed hand-
some Tuscan peasantry, whose little villages with simple
houses of stone dot the landscape i/all direc Ton
The,r ploughs and carts are drawn by the splendid white

°XelUSC

toorofh' e Sr°Un s too « or

too rough for wheels to run, the oxen are harnessed to

**»<&<, a kind of rude sleigh. It is formed of a
small platform attached to a bent shaft, and The oxen
are fastened on either side of the shaft, tn? latt"
unnmg up between the two animals. When the sle gh
s intended to carry passengers, a large basket is strapS

• fi : /heubasket contains ^ ^at for two people and
•s ^ted with a slanting back and cushion. Whenlinf
up a hdl-s.dc with a pair of oxen pulling slowly and
stead, y, the motion is not unpleasing. But cLTns
down ,s a very different affair. The Lggia rocks and
bumps and lurches until the occupants! ar they will

* * • n i-

Peeps at Many Lands

be shaken to pieces, and think it would be better to get
out and walk.

The chief river of Tuscany is that famous stream, the
Arno, on which stand Florence and Pisa. Florence is
a very great city to-day, and of her we shall speak
again. Pisa has seen the days of her greatness pass,
and she is now a quiet, dreamy place, visited by those
who wish to see the wonderful buildings which cluster
round a corner of her ancient walls.

Here lies an open grassy space where stand four
splendid structures. The first that catches the eye is
the famous Leaning Tower. It looks familiar at once,
for you have seen so many pictures of it. Apart
from its curious position, it is noteworthy for its own
charm. " It looks like some fairy tower, composed of
tier upon tier of marble columns and delicate tracery,
and inclines gently forward, as though weary of the
burden of its own beauty."

The Leaning Tower springs 179 feet from the
ground in the form of a vast pillar. It is hollow
within, and when you enter and stand at the foot it
seems as if you were at the bottom of a deep well, with
the bells — for it is the campanile, or belfry, of the
Cathedral near at hand — hanging at the top. In the
circular wall is a flight of 300 steps leading to the top,
whence you may enjoy a splendid outlook over moun-
tain, plain, and sea.

As you ascend you can clearly perceive that the
tower is not upright, and it leans over to one side to
the extent of 13 feet. This was caused by the giving
way of part of the foundation. But for all that, the

In Tuscany

tower remains firm and strong. It has stood since
1174, and seems likely to stand.
The Cathedral, the Baptistery, and the Campo Santo
mpJete the four famous structures. The Cathedral
the Baptistery are most beautiful buildings, and
Campo Santo is reared upon sacred earth—
upon 1,500 loads of soil brought from Calvary
long ago. In the Cathedral is a very ancient and
famous picture of the Madonna and Child, which is
covered with seven veils, and these veils are never
save upon very important occasions. The
shrine where this picture is kept is surrounded by
many offerings. This is a common practice in the
churches of Italy. A worshipper prays for a blessing
or for deliverance from some peril, and if he believes
his prayer is granted he puts up before the shrine
some object to commemorate the favour received
nus a sailor, saved from shipwreck, puts up a silver
model of a ship before his favourite saint ; the lame
man recovering from his infirmity, hangs up his
crutches, and so on.

In the Cathedral of Pisa there hangs a little pink
frock before the shrine. It has hung there since the
last unveiling of the picture in 1 897. On that occasion
a terrible disaster occurred. The church was packed
' overflowing, when a cry of « Fire !" was raised, and
there was a wild stampede. People were trampled to
death, and many were badly injured. "One poor
mother was knocked down, and her little child not
two years old, was whirled away from her among the
struggling crowd, she saw not whither. When the

27 4—2

Peeps at Many Lands

ambulance came from the neighbouring hospital to
recover the dead and wounded, the child was found
under a bench, smiling and happy, a little dazed, but
without so much as a bruise. The grateful mother has
put the little pink frock it wore at the time in a glass
case and placed it in the Cathedral, thereby rendering
public thanks to Heaven for so marvellous an escape."

Before leaving Pisa, we must note one very interest-
ing local feature — the fine herd of camels which have
become native to the Tuscan soil. In the neighbour-
hood of the town a camel-train is no uncommon sight,
each long-legged, humped creature marching steadily
along with its load of about 1,000 pounds of wood,
cut in the forests near at hand. These camels have
been bred near Pisa for close upon 200 years. Many
attempts have been made to rear camels in other parts
of Italy, but in vain, nor can they be reared elsewhere
in Tuscany than at Pisa. Camels need a hot and
dry climate. Cold and wet will kill them off rapidly.
Above all things, the camels dislike rain. If they are
in the open, they huddle together closely under trees.
If they are in their sheds, they will not come out on a
rainy day, even though their food-racks are empty and
there is plenty to eat outside.

But now we must leave Pisa, and go up-stream to
the most famous Tuscan city of all, Florence, the City
of Flowers.

The City of Flowers

CHAPTER VII

THE CITY OF FLOWERS

THE famous and beautiful city of Florence lies on the
banks of the River Arno, surrounded by smiling slopes
where vineyards and orchards are set thickly among
meadows and corn-fields, and looked upon from afar
off by the lofty Apennines. But she is famous for
much more than the beauty of her position, this stately
and splendid old city. She is famous for her noble
palaces, her quaint and picturesque streets, her wonder-
ful churches, and for the wealth of art treasures in
picture and statue, in bronze and marble, with which
her sons have enriched her.

Her story is long and very stormy. For centuries
the streets rang with the noise of battle. She was a
small republic where rival parties fought for supremacy
and dyed her streets and walls with their blood. Her
history rings with the long strife of the two great rival
families, Guelf against Ghibelline, whose struggles rent
her in twain, and whose bitter combats were fought out
in her narrow causeways.

But Florence had other sons who have given her
greater fame than either Guelf or Ghibelline. To-day
the noise of the far-off battles is dim, and their dust
has settled and covered the renown of the warriors •
but the world still reads the poems of Dante, greatest
of the sons of Florence, and admires the books and

Peeps at Many Lands

pictures of other Florentines, lesser men than the great
poet, but still men of world-wide fame.

We can take but a peep at this city of marvellous
charm, and we will go straight to its famous Piazza del
Duomo — the " history-haunted square," as Ruskin calls
it — and glance round a group of buildings scarcely to
be equalled in any other city of the world. Here stand
the Cathedral, the Campanile, the splendid belfry, and
the Baptistery.

The Cathedral, the Duomo of Florence, is a great
and noble building entered by several doors, all different
and all beautiful. Inside there is no glare of splendour,
only vast, dim, tranquil spaces, so that one steps out of
a bustling, sunny piazza into a grey quietude which
seems far off and distant from the workaday world,
and full of repose and devotion.

High overhead springs the vast arch of the lofty
dome, which is covered outside with red tiles, and is a
great landmark, as it rises above the roofs of the
city. It is a noble piece of work, inlaid with coloured
marbles, and enriched with splendid carvings and
statues.

Beside the Cathedral stands the Shepherd's Tower,
the belfry of glorious beauty designed by Giotto, the
shepherd-boy. Ruskin calls it " that serene height of
mountain alabaster, coloured like a morning cloud and
chased like a sea-shell."

The Campanile is adorned with many - coloured
marbles, the delicate and lovely shades running from
purest white to crimson and green and onyx, with
noble statues and beautiful medallions. Giotto designed

The City of Flowers

it, and it was beautified by other immortals of Florence
who lived in the golden age of Florentine art. Since
fourteenth century the Campanile has stood and
served the purpose which it serves to-day. The bells
call the citizens to prayer, and thrice a day it gives
the signal for the Jve Maria to all the other city
towers.

The Baptistery of Florence stands across the square—
the venerable Church of St. John the Baptist, where
the tiny Florentines are brought to the font and
made children of the Church. In this most ancient
and beautiful place the Florentines, whose names are
famous for ever, were brought to the priest, and
were baptized in the shadow of the great bronze figure
St. John, who raises his hands in blessing The
glory of the Baptistery is its famous bronze doors
wrought with so much beauty that Michael Angelo
declared them worthy to be the gates of Paradise.

Near at hand is a plain building, the home of the
most striking institution of Florence, the Misericordia
:he Brothers of Mercy. In this brotherhood vast
numbers are enrolled of all ranks, from King to beggar
and it is their duty to succour the sick, to carry the
injured to hospital, to bear the dead to the grave. A
number of the brothers are always ready for duty, and
as soon as a call comes for their services, they don
black robes with a curious pointed hood which conceals
:ne face, and take up the litter which is at hand and
hasten to their task.

There is no more familiar sight in the city than the
small procession, robed in solemn black, which swings

Peeps at Many Lands

along with its litter shoulder high, and is greeted
everywhere with the doffed hat. If the burden be a
corpse, the procession is formed as night falls, and is a
most striking scene. In front goes a priest with crucifix
and light, repeating, as he walks, the Burial Psalm.
The Brothers of Mercy make the responses as they
march, the bearing party with their shoulders under
the bier, and those who are to relieve them and carry in
turn, holding great blazing torches which light the
way. No one knows the name or rank of the brethren
on duty, nor may anyone offer the latter the smallest
reward save "a cup of cold water,"

The centre of Florentine city life is the splendid
square where stands the Palazzo Vecchio, the grand old
palace raised nearly seven hundred years ago as a resi-
dence for the Chief Magistrate of Justice. In front ot
this grim and powerful fortress, with its great and noble
tower, the life of Florence ebbs and flows to-day, as it
has done for so many centuries. The history of the
city clings closely about this grand old building, which
has seen riots, revolts, executions, scenes of public and
private torture; has been the home of Chief Magistrates
or of Grand Dukes, as forms of Government changed;
and is now occupied by the council which deals with
the municipal affairs of Florence.

The square before it seethes with Florentine life —
above all on Fridays, when, after market, a vast throng
of townspeople and peasants from the country round
about pack it full from side to side. " As a rule, the
Tuscan peasant is a graceful specimen of humanity,
dark and intelligent-looking, with a delightful habit of

I- bJ

0 ^

1 -

5 2
° o

The City of Flowers

gesticulating with his hands in a manner which makes
it almost possible for him to dispense with words. In
winter these peasants wear long coats in wonderful
shades of bright brown and a peculiar vivid green, with
collars and cuffs of fur, and in summer they are clad
from head to foot in cool linen. Among the gesticu-
lating groups, cabs and carriages, with much shouting
and cracking of whips, slowly thread their way, scatter-
ing to right and left the ever-shifting, brightly-coloured
crowd."

The square is decorated with some of the grandest
statues of Florence, but there is also a plain slab or
stone in the pavement before the palace which draws
much attention. This slab marks the spot where
Savonarola, the great preacher and reformer, was put
to death in 1498. Savonarola was the Prior of the
Convent of St. Mark, and his soul was greatly troubled
by the wickedness of the time. Florence was ruled by
Lorenzo the Magnificent, and the city stood at the
height of its power and the zenith of its glory. But
Lorenzo, his Court, and his people, were wicked and
corrupt, and Savonarola thundered against the evils of
the time, and tried to turn men to better and purer
ways.

So great was his eloquence that men were forced to
listen to him and heed his words. For a time it seemed
as if he were about to succeed, and turn the Florentines
from their evil lives. But his foes proved too many
and too strong for him. The rulers of his own Church
were as bitter against him as any, and in the end he
was condemned to death. Accompanied by two faithful
IT. 33 5

Peeps at Many Lands

monks, who died with their master, Savonarola was
burned at the stake, and his ashes were cast into the
Arno.

CHAPTER VIII

SOME FLORENTINE CUSTOMS

THE Florentines have plenty of holidays and feast-days,
and, like all other Tuscans, they are a laughing, pleasure-
loving people. The fun of their year commences with
the carnival which begins at Christmas and lasts until
Shrove Tuesday. This is the great season of merry-
making, when parties and entertainments are given, and
the stalls are loaded with toys and sweets for children.
But the great day of the children's feast is Epiphany—
" Twelfth Day," the day before Old Christmas Day.
This festival corresponds with that of "Santa Claus "
in Northern Europe. The children put their shoes
ready, and hope that during the night " La Befana "
will nil them with gifts. "La Befana" is an old
woman who roams over the earth for ever, like the
Wandering Jew, and on the night of Epiphany she
fills the shoes of all good children with pretty things.
Then the children always go to the Epiphany fair,
where they buy little glass trumpets and fill the air

with shrill blasts.

As soon as Lent begins, all popular festivities cease.
But now the people throng to the Lenten fairs, which
are held- every Sunday at one or other of the city gates.

Some Florentine Customs

At these fairs there are sold all sorts of sweetmeats and
cakes and trinkets, chief among the eatables being nuts
which have been blessed by the priest, and little cakes
which can be obtained only at this time of the year.
The first three fairs are known as the " Fair of the
Curious," the " Fair of the Furious," and the " Fair
of the Lovers." The fourth is the least important of
the series, and the fifth is the most important, and
causes much excitement among the Florentines. It is
the "Fair of Contracts," and here forthcoming marriages
are announced, and the happy couples are present to
receive the congratulations and good wishes of their
friends. The sixth is called the "Fair of the Rejected,"
where disappointed lovers console themselves as well as
they may.

But no one takes much thought of them, for now
every mind is fixed on the greatest festival of the
Florentine year, the world-famous "Feast of the Dove.'
On Easter Eve a car is set aflame by a dove, and in
this ceremony of the " Burning of the Car " not only
is every Florentine interested, but every peasant through-
out Tuscany ; for there is a fixed belief in every peasant
mind that just as the ceremony goes well or ill, so will
their crops go well or ill that year.

The origin of this curious custom goes back to the
First Crusade, when a young knight of Florence brought
back from the Holy Land some of the sacred fire which
is kindled every Easter Eve in the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre at Jerusalem. There are two stories which
tell of the manner in which he conveyed this precious
fire to his native city. One says that he rode his horse

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Peeps at Many Lands

backward in order to shield the flame with his body ;
another says that he enclosed it in an iron ball, which
he rolled along with his foot. But both stories agree
that when he reached Florence the people thought his
movements so strange that they ran after him, shouting
" Pazzo ! Pazzo !" — " Madman ! Madman 1" In
this manner the knight's family gained the name of
the Pazzi, a celebrated name in Italian history.

From that day to this on every Easter Eve has been
celebrated the " Burning of the Car " with sacred fire.
The ceremony is as popular to-day as it was in the
Middle Ages, and from early morning vast crowds of
peasants, townsfolk, and sightseers pack themselves
into the Piazza del' Duomo, in front of the great west
door of the Cathedral.

The car is a huge wooden affair, festooned with fire-
works and decorated with ribbons in the national
colours of Italy— red, white, and green. It is drawn
through the streets by four oxen white as milk, whose
horns are tipped with gold. It halts before the Cathe-
dral in the midst of the expectant crowd, who await
the coming of the dove. The peasants are breathless
with excitement and anxiety. If the car be set on fire
bravely, the harvest will be good and abundant ; if the
fire fails, then corn and fruit, too, will fail. No one
can tear this belief from the heart of the Tuscan

contadine.

The little white dove is purely artificial, and it slides
along a wire which runs from the high altar along
the Cathedral, out through the west door, and straight
to the top of the car. At that point of the Mass

Some Florentine Customs

where the Archbishop of Florence comes to the Gloria
in Excelsis Deo — " Glory to God in the Highest " —
he sets in motion the dove, which, with a light in its
mouth, darts away along the wire towards the car.

Outside there is a breathless silence as the vast crowd
waits for the dove to appear. When it shoots out
into the sunlight, a tremendous shout of welcome arises,
and then a thrice tremendous shout as it is seen that
the ceremony is successful, and that the fireworks are
blazing and exploding merrily. The dove turns and
flies back, followed by the thanks and blessings of the
happy peasants, who now look forward to a prosperous
year. The oxen are once more yoked to the car, and
it is drawn to the palace of the Pazzi, where more fire-
works are exploded in honour of the great Crusader,
and the " Feast of the Dove "' is over.

CHAPTER IX

AMONG THE APENNINES

THE Apennines form the backbone of Italy, and almost
everywhere may be seen from the plains which lie
between their broad flanks and the coast. The
peasants who live on these great hills are herdsmen
rather than farmers, though here and there a strip of corn-
field shines golden in autumn on some narrow terrace.
This land is not turned with the plough, for on these
steep slopes the plough is unknown. It is attacked
with the zappay a broad-bladed pick, which is swung

Peeps at Many Lands

with great power and driven deeply into the soil,
turning it over well.

But, in the main, the meal-sack is filled from the
groves of chestnut which stand thick along the hill-sides.
The chestnut-gathering is the real harvest of the moun-
taineers, and it is a very busy time. About the middle
of October, old and young troop off to the woods,
v/here the glossy brown chestnuts are showering down
freely as the winds of autumn blow. They are well
provided with sacks and bags, and wear their oldest
clothes, for it is rough work. The forest is often
damp and muddy from the rains, the thorns and briars
must not frighten the pickers from the underwood,
where many nuts have fallen, and if a heavy shower
comes they get wet to the skin.

They are very glad when the weather is fine, and
then the woods ring with jokes and laughter as the
nimble fingers fill the big sacks. A good picker will
fill a sack in a day, and a very quick hand will fill
a sack and a half. The chestnuts are carried home,
dried, and ground, and the meal is used to make the
need, the chestnut-flour cakes which form so great a
share of the food of the hill-folk. Every house has its
drying-room, where the fresh chestnuts are heaped on
a wooden framework, below which a wood fire burns.
The chestnuts are left in the heat and smoke for three
days and nights. The outer husk becomes as black as
coal, but this is easily broken off", and the inside is
white and sweet and hard. The dried nuts are now
ground in a mill, and the meal is packed away in a big
press. Here it gets as hard almost as a stone, and on

Among the Apennines

baking-day the portion needed is chopped out with a
hatchet or heavy knife.

To make the need the housewife first mixes chestnut-
flour and water in a big wooden bowl till she has a
paste which looks like thick pink cream. Then she
takes an upright iron frame and sets it beside the fire-
place, where a number of round flat stones are getting
very hot. She has also a pile of large fresh green
chestnut-leaves.

She begins by placing a hot stone at the bottom of
the iron frame. Upon this she lays some leaves, and
upon the leaves she ladles a layer of paste. This she
covers with leaves, and now comes another hot stone.
And so she goes on with hot stones, leaves, and paste
until the frame is full. She leaves the latter for a short
time, then unpacks it, for the cakes are soon cooked by
the heated stones. The need now look like pieces of
pinkish-brown leather, and seem just as tough to the
jaws of the stranger. He is certain to have a fit of
indigestion if he tries to get through one, but the
mountaineers thrive on them.

The children of the hills are very busy little
creatures. From an early age they have to do some-
thing to help the family fortunes along, and they do it
with a will. The boy herds the flock of goats, the
girl watches the sheep. If there be no goats to watch,
the boy has to look after the cow and cut its food. He
is off to the wood with a sack to gather leaves and
young shoots, for the mountain cow does not get much
grass or hay. In winter it has to get along on dried
leaves and ferns.

Peeps at Many Lands

But the girls have generally a little flock to guard,
for a few sheep are of great service to furnish wool.
This is spun on the distaff, and supplies the family
with stockings and woollen garments. The little
shepherdess leads her sheep to the woods, where they
feed all day, and very often she has her distaff with her,
and sits in the shade and spins. She is very busy, too,
at the time of the chestnut-gathering. If her parents
do not need her help, there are always people glad of
an extra pair of hands. For wages she receives food
and lodging during the harvest, and a sack of nuts
besides.

The hill-towns are very old. As a rule they are far
older than the cities of the plains below. They often
cling to the sides of cliffs ; they are perched on the
top of precipitous rocks, and many a one —

" Like an eagle's nest
Hangs on the crest
Of purple Apennine."

The visitor to-day wonders why people ever built in
such out-of-the-way spots, so difficult to reach. There
are plenty of hill towns and villages among the Apen-
nines to which wheeled carriages may not climb, or only
with the greatest difficulty. Mules with heavy packs
slung on either side of them do all the carrying of
goods, or perhaps sleds drawn by oxen will toil up and
down the narrow stony path which leads to the town.
And yet, at the foot of the clifr^ there may be a pleasant
green plain beside a swift river. The cows are driven
down to pasture there, the women go down with baskets

A SHOP IN THE MERCATO VECCHIA,
FLORENCE. Chapters I 'II. an.i I 'III.

Among the Apennines

of clothes to wash them in the clear water ; but at
night all climb up again to the fastness above. Why
is this ? Why was not the town built at the foot of
the precipice instead of on its crest, where the houses
are packed close on ledges of rock ?

The reason is that these towns were built in far-off
days, when men thought of two things only in fixing
upon a spot to raise their dwellings — food and safety.
In order to get food, they built their homes near a
patch of fertile land, which could be easily cultivated
with their simple tools, and, in order to be safe, they
placed their houses on the lofty rock which sprang
high above the plain. Here they were secure from
their enemies, and the compact mass of houses inside
the strong wall, which encircled the little city, made
a stout fortress. In choosing the hill-top, the early
settlers always looked for one which had its own spring
or fountain of water. Food is easily stored, but water
not so easily, and with a good spring in the town they
did not fear thirst even when a powerful enemy cut
them off from the river below.

In our own country the same system may be found,
or, rather, remains of the same system. Above a
number of our towns there still hang hill-tops which
show that old villages once stood up there. For
instance, the hill-top of Old Sarum was the beginning
of modern Salisbury, the height of Caer Badon was the
beginning of modern Bath, and to this day hill-top
towns still stand at Shaftesbury and Launceston.

Now, in England, where attack by foreign foes was
not greatly feared, and where fighting at home ceased

IT. 41 6

Peeps at Many Lands

a long time ago, the people came down from the hill-
top to the plain, and lived in greater comfort and con-
venience. But in Italy times of trouble and war and
invasion lasted to far later days than with us, and so
the people clung to their fortress homes. It is true
that the land is quiet to-day, and yet the Italian hill-
town stands on its height just the same as ever, nor do
the people make any sign of leaving it. But many of
them are poor, and have no means of building new
homes, and many are amply satisfied with the simple
things that lie within their grasp.

Modern life has left these towns untouched. Their
inhabitants do not crave for trams or fine shops, or even
good roads. A mule-path brought wine and oil to
them centuries ago ; it brings them to-day, and the
people are satisfied. Nor do they wish to get down to
some highroad or railway, to stand upon a line of
traffic, to be in touch with the modern hurry and
scurry. Their district is self-supporting and self-
contained. They live in it and for it to such an extent
that they give the name of " foreigners " not only to
people of other lands, but to their fellow-Italians of a
neighbouring province.

The Eternal City

CHAPTER X

THE ETERNAL CITY

ABOUT 750 years before the birth of Christ a band of
settlers founded a city on the banks of the River Tiber,
and that settlement became Rome. Nearly twenty-
seven centuries have passed since then, and Rome has
been a great and charmed name through all that space
of time.

Her early days were of conquest over the surround-
ing tribes ; then her eagles flew farther and farther,
and the swords of the Roman legionaries made their
city the mistress of the world. Rome, upon her seven
hills, was a magnificent city of splendid temples, and in
her Forum met soldiers, statesmen, and Senators whose
fame is as fresh to-day as when they wrote their great
books or delivered their famous speeches.

Time passed, and the power of Rome sank. Her
rulers became weak and corrupt, and the mistress ot
the world was overthrown by hordes of barbarians from
the north. But after the Rome of the Caesars came the
Rome of the Popes. The city became the centre of the
Christian Church, and for ages she ruled all Christen-
dom with unquestioned sway.

The early days of Christianity in Rome were days of
persecution and trial, of imprisonment and martyrdom.
The new faith was looked upon as dangerous by the
rulers of Rome, and so the cry arose of " The Chris-

43 6—2

Peeps at Many Lands

tians to the lions 1" Where were the Christians flung
to the lions ? In the Colosseum, the vast building
where the Romans held their games and shows. The
ruins of the Colosseum still stand, one of the most
famous and striking buildings in existence. It is the
example, above all, of the wonderful power of the old
Romans as the greatest builders the world has ever
seen. It is a huge amphitheatre, where 50^00 spec-
tators could be seated in tier above tier till the topmost
row of spectators looked down 160 feet into the arena
below. The arena is about 280 feet long by 174 feet
wide, and here were given combats of gladiators (men
hired to fight with each other), of gladiators with wild
beasts, of wild beasts with each other, and of naval
battles. For the latter purpose the arena was filled
with water and became a lake, on which vessels were
launched to engage in fight.

But there was no sight which better pleased the
savage multitude than the spectacle of Christian martyrs
exposed to wild beasts. The latter were kept without
food until they were savage with hunger, and flew upon
their victims and tore them to pieces at once. Men,
women, and children suffered this cruel death under
the eyes of the gazing thousands.

For hundreds of years this mighty building served
as a quarry to the builders of Rome. Palaces, churches,
theatres have been built from its walls, and yet it
stands, immense and impressive. After a time this
destruction was checked, yet one Roman Cardinal
managed in 1540 to remove vast masses of quarried
blocks by a cunning trick. He begged the Pope to

The Eternal City

allow him all the stones he could remove in twelve
hours. The permission was given, and he set 4,000
men to the task.

Closely connected with the early Christians are the
catacombs, the vast underground caverns hewn out of
the rock, forming a " subterranean Rome." They are
forty-five in number, and the passages, galleries, and
chambers run to hundreds of miles in total length.
This great underground city formed a refuge for
Christians from their persecutors. Here they buried
their dead ; here they met for prayer and worship ;
here they gathered converts to instruct them in the
new faith. After the time of persecution was over the
catacombs were no longer used, and in time their very
existence as Christian retreats was forgotten. Visitors
to Rome were told that under the city lay huge and
frightful caverns filled with snakes. This belief v/as
common until explorers took the catacombs in hand,
and instead of snake-haunted chasms they found
galleries of tombs, rooms hollowed in the rock, with a
seat for the teacher of those who had met there, inscrip-
tions and pictures of the deepest interest, prayers and
names scratched on walls, and frescoes depicting Bible
scenes.

From the catacombs to the majestic Church of
St. Peter there is no break in the Christian history of
Rome. Popes taught and were buried in the cata-
combs. The Pope rules to-day over St. Peter's, the
greatest Christian church in the world. St. Peter's is
said to stand on the site of the tomb of St. Peter, and
in the year 306 a great church was raised on the spot.

Peeps at Many Lands

The Emperor Constantine himself aided in the work,
carrying twelve baskets of earth in honour of the
Twelve Apostles. For a thousand years the church of
Constantine held its place, then it was resolved to raise
a grander building.

The foundation-stone of this, the most famous
church in Christendom, was laid in 1506. Nearly two
hundred years were spent in the building. The famous
names of Raphael and Michael Angelo are closely con-
nected with it : Raphael laid out the general plan, and
Michael Angelo designed the vast dome, which is the
greatest landmark of the city. Of a visit to St. Peter's
Bayard Taylor says :

" It seemed a long time before we arrived at the
Square of St. Peter's. When at length we stood in
front, with the majestic colonnade sweeping round, the
fountains on each side sending up their showers of silver
spray, the mighty obelisk of Egyptian granite piercing
the sky, and beyond, the great front and dome of the
cathedral, I confess my unmingled admiration. The
front of St. Peter's seemed close to us, but it was
a third of a mile distant, and the people ascending
the steps dwindled to pigmies. I passed the obelisk,
went up the long ascent, crossed the portico, pushed
aside the heavy curtain, and stood in the great nave.
I need not describe my feelings at the sight, but
I will tell you the dimensions, and you may then
fancy what they were. Before me was a marble plain,
600 feet long, and under the cross 417 feet wide,
and there were 400 feet of air between me and the
top of the dome. The sunbeam, stealing through a

The Eternal City

lofty window at one end of the transept, made a bar of
light on the blue air, hazy with incense, one-tenth of a
mile long, before it fell on the mosaics and gilded
shrines of the other extremity. The grand cupola
alone, including lantern and cross, is 285 feet high, and
the four immense pillars on which it rests are each
137 feet in circumference. It seems as if human art
had outdone itself in producing this temple — the
grandest which the world ever erected for the worship
of the Living Good."

St. Peter's is full of splendid statues and tombs,
and against one of the great piers supporting the
dome is a famous bronze statue of St. Peter himself.
This statue has always been an object of deep venera-
tion to the crowds of pilgrims who for centuries
have thronged to the great church. The right foot
has actually been worn away by the kisses of the
devout.

Near at hand rises a massive range of buildings — the
Vatican, the residence of the Popes. It is the largest
palace in the world, or, rather, it is a collection of
palaces, museums, picture-galleries, barracks, and offices
covered by one name. It may also be called a prison,
for the Pope stays in it as if it were a prison, and this
is done to mark his displeasure with the present
government, When Italy became a united nation, the
power of the Pope as a reigning Italian Prince came to
an end, and this was deeply resented at the Vatican.
Now, the Pope does not move about in his lost posses-
sions, but remains shut up in solitary state at the
Vatican.

Peeps at Many Lands

CHAPTER XI

THE ETERNAL CITY (continued}

A VERY striking relic of Imperial Rome is the Pantheon,
a splendid circular building, once a temple of the
Roman gods, but since 609 a Christian church. It is
the only building of the old Romans which remains
entire and in use at the present day :

" Simple, erect, severe, austere, sublime,
Shrine of all saints and temple of all gods."

This noble hall was raised by the Emperor Hadrian,
but the portico is part of the original building erected
by Agrippa in 27 B.C. The interior is of noble design.
The circular walls are crowned by a dome of most
beautiful shape, and the temple is lighted in a strange
and charming fashion. Not a window breaks the
surface of the walls, but at the very apex of the
dome there is a circular opening 28 feet across,
which lights the interior perfectly, and with the most
magical effects of sun and shade. Standing on the
pavement below, and looking up to the blue sky
through this opening, it has the appearance of a great
eye, and impresses the spectator deeply: it seems "as if
heaven were looking down into the interior of the
temple."

Around the walls are niches where the images of the
Roman gods once stood : they are now converted into
Christian altars. In the Pantheon lies Raphael, the

The Eternal City

great painter, who died at the age of thirty-seven. It
has also been adopted as the burial-place of Italian
Sovereigns, and the two Kings who have died since
Italy became a united nation lie within its walls.

The finest tomb of Old Rome is a modern castle.
The Castle of St. Angelo, whose broad, round tower
rises beside the Tiber, is one of the best-known land-
marks of Rome. Yet it is but a fragment of the
splendid mausoleum raised by Hadrian. The vast
tomb became a castle, and for hundreds of years it was
held, attacked, partly destroyed, built up again, until it
stands to-day a living record of the turbulent days of
mediaeval Italy,

As for the relics of ancient Rome, they are found,
not only in arches and pillars, but literally everywhere,
in fragments. The modern city is built upon the
ruins of the city of the Csesars, when palaces of marble
rose on every hand, and the most magnificent public
buildings, temples, theatres, and baths were built as if
intended to last for ever. But the fury of the invading
barbarians overthrew most of the ancient monuments,
and time has buried them deep under layers of earth
and rubbish. Yet to this day fragments of the old
splendour are found on every hand. " Every villa,
gardea, and palace staircase is peopled with ancient
statues. Fragments of inscriptions, of carved mouldings
and cornices, marble pillars, and antique fountains are
met with in every courtyard. Even a humble house
or shop will have a marble step or a marble lintel to
the front door. To the present day no piece of work
is ever undertaken in Rome, no house foundation dug

IT. 49 7

Peeps at Many Lands

or gas-pipe laid, but the workmen come across some
ancient masonry, an aqueduct, whose underground
course is unknown and unexplored, a branch of one of
the great drains, or the immense concrete vault of a
bath or temple, whose destruction gives as much
trouble as if it were solid rock."

Of the ancient Roman Forum, that famous spot
where Cicero spoke and the City Fathers met, some
tall columns still stand, and the spade of the digger
has cleared away the earth, and we may walk the very
pavement which the senators trod. The Forum lies
between the two famous hills of the Palatine and the
Capitol. The Palatine hill was the cradle of infant
Rome, and upon it were raised the huts of the shepherds
who founded the city. The Capitol became the fortress
and the centre whence Consuls and Senators sent decrees
over the world. The Forum was at first a mere swamp,
and about 603 B.C. Tarquinius Priscus built cloacae
(huge sewers) to drain off the water. So massive and
so perfect was, and is, this ancient masonry that it has
served its purpose for nearly 2,500 years, and serves it
just as well to-day.

Through the Forum ran the Via Sacra — the Sacred
Way — by which a victor marched in triumph to the
Capitol. Behind the gay, triumphant train came the
poor captives who had lost the day, and whose lives
would be sacrificed in honour of the victory. One
precipitous face of the Capitol is the Tarpeian Rock,
over which traitors were hurled to be dashed to pieces
at the foot of the descent.

Near at hand are the two famous triumphal arches

5°

The Eternal City

which are still in good order, the Arch of Constantino
and the Arch of Titus. The Arch of Constantine was
built in A.D. 312. It is of great size and fine propor-
tions, and is the best preserved of all the triumphal
arches of Rome. It is adorned with many fine pieces
of work taken from older arches, and is of deep
interest as bearing the first inscription which shows
that Rome had become Christian. But of even still
deeper religious interest is the Arch of Titus.

After the capture of Jerusalem, Titus returned in
triumph to Rome, bearing with him the spoils of the
Temple, and followed by multitudes of Jewish captives.
The Senate decreed that Titus should be honoured by
a triumphal arch, and the latter was built at the highest
point of the Sacred Way. It is a beautiful arch, but
its chief interest lies in the subject of the sculptures
which ornament it. For here are shown the sacred
trophies torn from the Temple — the seven-branched
candlestick, the table of shewbread, the silver trumpet.
Another relief shows Titus himself crowned with
laurels, and drawn in a four-horse chariot, while a
crowd of Jewish leaders are dragged in chains beside
his chariot-wheels. It is said that even to-day no Jew
will walk beneath this arch, which records t{ie destruction
of his people and his Temple.

One of the oldest monuments of Rome is a prison
under the Capitol, the Mamertine Prison, whose
dungeons are built of huge blocks of stone. Here
some of the most famous prisoners of Roman history
have been shut up. In the Mamertine was starved to
death Jugurtha, the great Numidian King who gave

51 7—2

Peeps at Many Lands

so much trouble to the Roman arms. He suffered
about a century before Christ, and displayed the
calmest fortitude in presence of his victorious foes.
On one occasion, Marius, his captor, flooded the
dungeon with icy water : " By Hercules I" remarked
Jugurtha, " but your bath is cold."

Tradition says that the Mamertine once held the
Apostles St. Peter and St. Paul, and a pillar is shown
to which they were bound for nine months. " A hole
in the wall, now protected with iron bars, is said to be
the impression of St. Peter's head when he rested.
This is kissed by the thousands of pilgrims who visit
the prison during the annual festa"

CHAPTER XII

THE ROMAN CAMPAGNA

LET us leave Rome by its oldest and most famous
road, the Appian Way. This splendid road is formed
of immense blocks of stone laid with such perfect
exactness that after nearly two thousand years of traffic
the time-worn pavement is still sound and good. On
either side of the causeway stand tombs, for the old
Romans buried their dead and raised monuments to
their memory beside the most frequented ways, as if to
keep thoughts of the departed in the minds of the
living. Most famous of these tombs is that of Cecilia
Metella, wife of Crassus, Caesar's Legate in Gaul. It is

The Roman Campagna

a noble tower, 90 feet high, and resembles a castle-
keep. " The stern round tower of other days," as
Byron calls it, is not merely one of the finest, but also
one of the best-preserved of these ancient monu-
ments.

The Appian Way runs on, and, as we follow it, we
find ourselves entering a very lonely and desolate
stretch of country. This is the Roman Campagna, the
country about Rome. There are no trees, no human
habitations, save here and there a little village whose
people are white and sickly, worn with fever and
consumed by disease. This sickness and desolation are
caused by the malarial fever which haunts these wide
swampy stretches of country.

Yet once there was no malaria to fear, and the
country was smiling and fertile. It is dotted every-
where with ruins, which show that in Roman times
seventy cities were scattered over the plain, and that
the land between them was covered with farms and
villas, the country seats of Consuls, patricians, and
Senators. Excellent roads threaded the land, and inns
stood at the crossings of the ways, while shrines,
monuments, temples, and aqueducts were seen on
every hand.

Of aqueducts we must say more, not only because
their remains are the most striking of the Campagna
ruins to-day, but also because they had a share in the
desolating of the great plain.

No city in the world was ever better supplied with
fresh water than Ancient Rome. By means of viaducts
and huge stone embankments, the rivers and springs

Peeps at Many Lands

of the Sabine Hills were conducted to Rome in such
abundance that there was a supply of 230 gallons daily
for each inhabitant. From the city the lines of these
aqueducts can still be traced, spreading across the
Campagna like the threads of a spider's web, and miles
of the arches still stand. Upon these arches were
carried tunnels of stone, through which the water
flowed to a vast reservoir, whence the fountains, baths,
and private houses of Rome were supplied. One
aqueduct is in use to this day, but the rest were
partially destroyed by the Goths in the sixth century.

The cutting of these vast aqueducts turned the water
on to the plain and flooded the Campagna ; hence
arose the marshes and the malarial fever which is the
pest of the region. Then the raids of the barbarians
drove the farmer and the vine-grower from the land,
and it became still more and more a swampy desert.
For there flowed down into it from the hills a
thousand little brooks and rills which had been of
great service for irrigation ; but when the land was
neglected, the streams were no longer used to. good
purpose, and overran the soil.

The people of the Campagna to-day are farmers and
herdsmen. They watch sheep, cows, goats, and buffaloes,
as the latter feed over the hills and below the ledges,
where the wild-fig shows its clusters of bloom. They
till the vine and tend olives, and the vintage season is
the most important time of their year. The vines are
grown in close groups, and the clusters of grapes are
gathered in wooden vessels which narrow towards the
base. The grapes are flung into a press fixed above a

The Roman Campagna

great cask, and the juice is driven out by treading with
the bare feet as in Bible times.

The second great harvest is that of the olive in
November or December. The fruit is gathered and
pressed for its oil. The finer oil is used for cooking
purposes, the coarser goes to feed the lamp, and olive
logs, when the trees come down, make a splendid
winter fire.

When the wine and oil are ready, they are carried
to Rome in small hooded carts. Beneath the hood of
linen or leather sits the driver, while his little savage
dog is perched on top of the casks, and is a watchful
guard both over the goods and his master. At the
back of the cart there is always a tiny barrel of wine
fixed crosswise. This is for the refreshment of the
driver, and becomes his property when the journey is
ended.

As he jogs on, he passes fields where the peasants
are at work. They sing as they toil, chanting some
old folk-song for hour after hour as they bend at their
task. Or, across some wild, lonely upland he sees
one of the butteri trot along — one of the herdsmen — a
picturesque fellow on his rough pony which he sits
with the ease and grace of a born horseman. They
are wonderful men in the saddle, these herdsmen of the
Campagna, and when Buffalo Bill's cowboys challenged
them to a trial of skill in rough-riding they bore away
the palm.

Now the wine-cart rolls by a cross hung with
flowers, and the driver bends his head, for at this spot
one of his comrades was killed under the wheels of the

Peeps at Many Lands

cart. Such accidents are not uncommon. During the
long, lonely journey under the hot sun a man becomes
drowsy, falls asleep, rolls off his cart, and is crushed
under the heavy wheels, while the animals plod steadily
forward on the well-known way.

CHAPTER XIII

AT NAPLES

NAPLES, the largest city of South Italy, is also the most
beautiful. It stands on a bay whose shores sweep
round in a noble curve, and from the water's edge rise
slopes covered with the white houses and the gardens
of the city. From the water it looks magnificent, and
the approach by sea is far grander than any approach
by land.

" What words can analyse the details of this match-
less panorama, and unravel that magic web of beauty
into which palaces, villas, forests, gardens, vineyards,
the mountains and the sea are woven ! What pen can
paint the soft curves, the gentle undulations, the flow-
ing outlines, the craggy steps, and the far-seen heights,
which, in their combination, are so full of grace ! No
skill can catch the changing hues of the distant moun-
tains, the playing waves, the films of purple and green
which spread themselves over the calm waters, the
sunsets of gold and orange, and the aerial veils of rose
and amethyst which drop upon the hills from skies of
morning and evening. c See Naples and die ' is a well-

ft.

At Naples

known Italian saying, but it should read, { See Naples
and live.' "

The Neapolitans, in any case, believe in living, and
living, too, in the merriest fashion. Never was a more
noisy, lively race of beings than the people of Naples.
They shout, laugh, sing, talk, gesticulate all day long, and
far into the night. Their streets are a veritable Babel,
with crowds of passengers, loungers, gossips, jokers,
streams of carriages hurrying up and down, with drivers
yelling and cracking their whips like madmen, while
bells jingle on the harness.

The street is the true home of the Neapolitan.
There he sits, works, eats, and his house is a mere
shelter into which he creeps at night to sleep. He
does not always do that, for in the heat of summer he
loves to lie on the pavement, or in the courtyard, for
the sake of the coolness. Many of them are very
poor, but poverty seems softened in this land of warmth
and beauty. The beggar eats his scrap of bread and
an onion, and then is quite content to lie in the sun
and watch the tide of life which flows without ceasing
along the busy streets, or up and down the lovely
shore. More, he will not work if work be offered him,
and easy work, too. An artist remarks that he once
called to a tattered, miserable wretch and offered him
sixpence to carry his easel a few hundred yards. The
beggar looked up from his bed of warm sand and
declined, politely, but with the greatest firmness, and
this was the true Neapolitan spirit.

The streets are not only noisy, but full of colour.
The awnings are of brilliant stripes and shades ; the

IT. 57 8

Peeps at Many Lands

women love the most vivid tints in their dresses ; the
paint-pot spreads its liveliest colours on stalls and shop-
fronts and carriages. The animals which draw the latter
are decorated in the gayest fashion for sheer love of
display. A mule-train, coming into the city along the
white and dusty roads, is a very striking and picturesque
sight. On the back of each animal rises a column of
glittering brass, surmounted by a tuft of fur, and
adorned with brass nails. Between the ears is fastened
a mass of soft light fur and red tassels. Bells tinkle on
the trappings, and the effect of the whole is most gay
and pleasing.

The streets are full of stalls piled with masses of
flowers — scarlet, white, and blue — or with vegetables
almost as brilliant in colour, or with eatables. The last
are very numerous, and almost every other stall is fry-
ing, or boiling, or baking. The street is the general
kitchen for the great mass of the people, and there they
love to stand and watch the cooking of the meal they
are about to eat. One stall serves macaroni, the national
food ; another sells that beloved delicacy, snail soup ;
another roasts chestnuts, and offers them for sale in
bouquets, each chestnut spiked upon a short stick, and
the customers stand or sit around, and drink or munch
calmly in face of all the world.

Here and there are places to which the people crowd
eagerly to look at certain numbers posted up outside in
flaring figures of red, green, and blue. Such a place is
a banco lotto, a place where lottery tickets are sold,
and the passion of the people for the lottery is one of
the curses of Italy. The lottery is under the control

At Naples

of the Government, which makes great sums out of
the money spent on tickets.

Every Neapolitan dreams that he will, one day or
another, buy a ticket which will turn out a lucky
number, and win a great prize, and thus the vice of
gambling receives great encouragement. Even the
very poorest will stake their farthings in a share of a
lottery ticket, believing devoutly in a certain set of
lucky numbers which they try again and again. There
is a lottery dictionary in which every event has a certain
number assigned to it, and many persons use this
dictionary in staking their money. In this connexion
a strange but true story is told :

" A money-lender in Naples was robbed in broad
daylight. His safe happened to be unlocked for the
moment, and all its contents were taken, and he him-
self so severely wounded by the robbers that he was
left for dead. When he came to, and realized that he
was ruined, in despair the wretched man turned to his
dictionary of lottery numbers, and put the little money
remaining to him on the three numbers corresponding
to an attempt at murder, theft, and unlocked safe. He
won, and recovered every penny lost by his misadven-
ture."

This gambling on the lottery leads to a great deal of
petty theft on the part of servants and clerks, just as
gambling on racehorses leads to theft in England. And
the mention of theft brings us easily to the Camorra,
which, fortunately, has no representative among us.
The Camorra is a vast secret society, composed of
thieves and of those who protect them and share in the

59 8—2

Peeps at Many Lands

spoil. We ought rather to say, that is supposed to be
a secret society, for in reality its members are well-known
to the police and to many of the public. But the
police never attempt to break it up — they hold it in
too great a dread. The head of the Camorra is known
as the "Capo Camorristi," and his power in Naples is
very great. An English writer speaks of this power in
connexion with stealing dogs, a practice to which the
Neapolitan thieves — members all of the Camorra — are
much attached.

" A friend of ours, possessor of a valuable dog, and
aware of this peculiarity, determined to take the matter
courageously into his own hands. Fortunately, he
knew the * Capo,' the president of this strange society,
and went to him for assistance.

" * I have/ he said, * a beautiful dog to which I am
devoted. When I walk about the streets of Naples I
have to keep him always on the chain and literally
never take my eyes off him. May I appeal to your
kindness to assure me of the animal's safety ?'

" He was listened to kindly. A careful note was
taken of the animal's appearance and of its owner's
address.

" c You need have no further anxiety,' said this quaint
official of the underground world of Naples. And our
friend now walks light-heartedly through the crowded
streets of the town, and the dog runs wherever he
pleases in safety."

The Great Volcano

CHAPTER XIV

THE GREAT VOLCANO

IN every view of Naples the eye is drawn to that most
striking and interesting of mountains, Vesuvius. This
beautiful cone-like form, springing straight from the
sea, and clear from base to summit, is capped with its
ever-ascending column of smoke, and the peasants eye
the great volcano uneasily. Every one has in mind its
recent eruption, and dreads lest at any moment its cloud
should thicken and redden, its showers of ashes and
stones leap forth, its streams of lava begin to run.

An eruption of Vesuvius is a sight which inspires
with awe the beholder who has nothing at stake. It
fills with terror the peasantry whose farms and vine-
yards lie along the lower slopes and surround the foot
of the mountain. The earth shakes and trembles as
the tremendous fires within the mountain struggle to
break forth, and a pall of smoke bursts from the crater
far above and overshadows the land. From this thick
veil of dark vapour pours down a heavy shower of
cinders and fine ashes. From the crater run down
streams of lava, molten rock. These are the two great
agencies of destruction. Wherever the lava runs it
destroys everything in its path with its tongue of fire,
and covers fields and vineyards beneath its slow-moving
stream. When it cools it is a layer of solid rock above
the ruined land, which is thus buried for ever. The

Peeps at Many Lands

ashes and dust are equally destructive at the moment,
but their effects are not so lasting.

The flow of a stream of lava is very slow. Even on
a steep slope it scarcely seems to move. Thus there is
no fear of people being overwhelmed by it. The
peasant has ample time to remove his belongings from
his doomed house. Sometimes a house or a village
which seemed certain to be destroyed has been saved
by the lava stream turning aside, as it were in mere
caprice, since there appeared to be no unevenness of the
ground to shape its course.

Another thing to be observed about the stream of
lava is that its surface is impenetrable. It appears to
be perfectly liquid, a river of fire, as it flows along.
But the heaviest stones may be dashed upon it without
making any impression. They will bound over its
surface as a cricket-ball bounds over ice.

A visit to the crater is of deep interest, for here one
sees a marvellous exhibition of the forces of nature.
As you mount the cone the ground becomes hotter and
hotter, and you come upon the lip of the crater with a
suddenness which is startling. You find yourself on
the edge of a huge bowl about half a mile in diameter
and about a hundred yards deep. Upon looking into
this bowl you observe that its surface is composed of
stones, cinders, and lumps of lava, and is broken here
and there by great holes, through which boil all the
fury of the volcano.

The sight is most awful in its grandeur. The whole
vast bowl is one seething mass of fire. Out of it pours
a dense cloud of smoke and vapour, so thickly laden

The Great Volcano

with sulphur that a whiff of it sets you coughing. And
crash upon crash, roar upon roar, heralds the successive
explosions which hurl white-hot stones of every size
and shape high into the air. You cannot stand still.
The ground is so hot that you must move from spot
to spot, or your feet begin to get unpleasantly heated.

Here and there are cracks which show you that you
are really walking about on fire. Within a few inches of
your boots the earth is actually red-hot. If you thrust
your walking-stick into one of these cracks and hold it
there for a few moments, it is charred just as in a fire.
The ground about you is of many colours. There is
the dull black of lava which has dried and set, there is
the deep red of that which is fresh from the furnace
below, there is every shade of orange and yellow, due
to the presence of sulphur.

But it is the tremendous abyss below which draws
your eye and holds your attention. As the pall of
steam and vapour wavers to and fro, you catch glimpses
of fiery chasms, whence spout the terrible fires which
rage below. " Throw together all the shipwrecks,
bombardments, cataracts, earthquakes, thunderstorms,
railway accidents, and all terrors of the sort you can
think of, and you have some representation of the
uproar of sound which the eruption of a volcano offers.
Take them in conjunction with the marvels of sight,
and the final effect is nothing short of appalling. Take
them together when the daylight is over, and the lower
world can no longer be distinguished ; when the varied
colouring of the ground has disappeared in the dark-
ness, and you can see nothing but the gleam of the

Peeps at Many Lands

burning earth up between the minerals at your feet, the
white-hot glare of the ribbon of molten lava which is
gliding languidly down the mountain at your side, and
in front of you the flashing of the internal fire upon the
cloud of vapour overhanging the abyss, and you have a
scene which is rather different from what you picture
as you read that Vesuvius is once again in a state of
eruption."

CHAPTER XV

THE BURIED CITIES

THE most terrible eruption of Vesuvius, which is on
record, happened more than 1,800 years ago. In
A.D. 79 two beautiful cities stood at the foot of the
volcanic mountain. They were Herculaneum and
Pompeii. Pompeii was then an old city, but was at
the height of its glory, with temples, baths, and splendid
villas, where wealthy Romans took their luxurious
ease. On an August day, when the people were going
about their work or their pleasure, suddenly there burst
forth from the crater far above their heads a vast
column of black smoke. It rose to an immense height
in the blue sky and slowly spread abroad. As it spread
it shut out the light of the sun until, at midday, the
city was covered with a fearful darkness, lighted only
by the flames which darted from the awful overhanging
cloud.

Many fled from the place, but many stayed in their

The Buried Cities

houses, expecting that the cloud of vapour would pass
away. But soon a rain of ashes began to fall. First,
it was but a light dust, then it grew thicker and heavier
and was mingled with pumice-stones, and the streets
were filled with choking sulphurous vapour. Heavier
and heavier grew this dreadful rain until the streets
were impassable, and those who tried to escape stumbled
and fell in the clogging masses of cinders and stones, or
were struck down by the heavier fragments hurled upon
them.

Now, none was left alive save those who had shut
themselves up closely in their houses. But the doom
of even these was close at hand. With a roar like a
thousand rivers in flood, streams of hot, black mud
rushed down the mountain-side and overwhelmed the
place. These streams filled streets, houses, cellars,
underground passages, everywhere, and completed the
destruction. In three days there was no sign that
Pompeii had existed. It lay deep buried beneath a
vast bed of ashes, stones, and mud.

So complete was the destruction that the very site
passed from the memory of man. Time went on, and
the rich volcanic soil threw up trees and flowers, and
men built their houses and tilled their vineyards above
the forgotten city. Then, about the middle of the
eighteenth century, the work of excavation was begun,
and Pompeii was brought to the light of day once
more. But years passed before the diggers knew that
it was Pompeii they were laying bare. At last an
inscription was found, which settled the matter beyond
doubt.

IT. 65 9

Peeps at Many Lands

The excavation of Pompeii has laid bare a Roman city
of nearly 2,000 years ago for modern inspection. It has
been said that if the eruption had been planned purposely
to preserve the city, it could not have done its work more
perfectly. Herculaneum was overwhelmed with lava,
and the excavation of lava amounts to hewing away
solid rock ; but Pompeii was covered with dust and
liquid mud, which formed a mould, encasing and pre-
serving objects and human forms, and giving them up
as perfect as when they were first entombed.

Nor are the pictures and inscriptions on the walls
greatly injured. The frescoes, the wall-paintings are to
be seen, and many of the inscriptions are of great
interest. None of these can touch the visitor so much
as the simple, careless records made for the work of the
day and intended only for the writer's eye. On the wall
of a shop the owner has noted how many flasks of wine
he has sold ; on the wall of a kitchen the cook has set
down how much food has been prepared, and another
note is made of how many tunics went to the wash,
how much wool has been given out to the slaves to be
spun, and other domestic details ; on the wall of a
house a schoolboy has scratched his Greek alphabet,
and another has written a scrap of a lesson, and near at
hand is an announcement of a sale by auction.

At the time of the eruption the municipal elections
were going forward in Pompeii, and many of the in-
scriptions remind us of our methods of to-day. We
cover the walls and hoardings with " Vote for Jones !"
and the Pompeiian put forth his appeal in precisely the
same fashion, save that he inscribed his words instead of

The Buried Cities

printing them. One notice called upon the electors to
vote for Cneius Helvetius, as worthy to be a magistrate.
Pansa was another candidate, and his friends declared
him to be most worthy. The supporters of Popidius
begged for votes for him on the ground that he was a
modest and illustrious youth. Poor Pompeii and poor
candidates ! Before the day of election came the candi-
dates were dead or fled, and Pompeii was a lost city.

The streets of Pompeii were narrow, and most of the
houses were small, but the theatres, public baths, foun-
tains, statues, and triumphal arches were numerous and
splendid. The floors of the dwellings were of mosaics ;
the walls were richly decorated with frescoes ; and the
gardens, though of no great extent, were beautifully
laid out.

The excavations have yielded a vast number of most
perfect examples of the tools, utensils, and ornaments
of the everyday life of Pompeii. In the museum we
can see the pots and pans of the kitchen, the table
services of silver ; the lady's dressing-table, with her
ivory combs, her chains and bracelets of gold, and her
thimbles of bronze ; the writer's inkstand, with his pen
beside it, and the tablets upon which he inscribed his
notes ; the toys of the children ; and a host of other
things.

There are also striking casts of the bodies which
were found in the streets and cellars. One woman
had fallen, clutching a bag of gold as she fled, and
another shows two women (believed to be mother and
daughter) who died side by side. In another case a
mother and three children were found hand in hand.

67 9—2

Peeps at Many Lands

They were hurrying towards the city gate, but death
was too swift for them. At the chief gate of the city
was found a splendid example of the old Roman disci-
pline. The sentinel stood there in his sentry-box, as
he had stood through that awful day of thunderous
gloom. Disdaining death, he had kept to his post and
died in harness. He was found, his sword in one hand,
while with the other he had covered his mouth with his
tunic to keep out the poisonous fumes. Brave as the
sentinel was a little dove, who had made her nest in a
niche in the wall of a house. She also remained at her
post, and beneath her skeleton was found the egg which
she would not leave.

The excavations are still going on. At one end of
the city is a hill of small stones, cinders, and fine white
ashes, all easily to be moved by the spade. Beneath
this hill is concealed the rest of Pompeii. A hundred
labourers are at work, and an expert watches them care-
fully. Each find is examined, and, if valuable, is
carried at once to the museum. It is expected that
within fifty years the whole city will be laid bare.

CHAPTER XVI

IN SICILY

SICILY is an island of great charm and of wonderful
beauty. It charms because here may be seen a people
living in many respects just as they lived ages ago.
Here we catch " glimpses of boats like antique galleys

In Sicily

with lateen sails ; of great religious processions winding
through the streets, with pikemen and torches and
noblemen's retainers in the liveries of the Middle
Ages ; of hermits ; of goatherds in skins playing on
the pipes of Theocritus ; of villagers wearing the
Albanian dress worn by their ancestors when they fled
from the Turk after the fall of Constantinople 400
years ago ; of countrymen tilling the land with
methods described by Virgil."

Its beauty is very striking. It is a land of noble,
rocky hills crowned by villages and castles, whose
dwellers look down into romantic and lovely valleys
where vineyards and groves of orange and of palm are
mingled with cornfields and meadows. In winter, when
our land is wrapped in snow or drenched with rain, the
sun is shining in Sicily, and the roses and the violets
bloom, and the air is perfumed with the scent of
almond-blossom and of lavender.

And yet, amid these scenes of beauty, these smiling
landscapes and lovely prospects of hill and vale and
blue, shining sea, there live some of the most wretched
peasantry that Italy or Europe can show. Their misery
is caused by the abject poverty in which they exist,
and this poverty largely springs from the Sicilian land
system. In many parts of the island vast estates are
held by nobles or wealthy men. These landlords very
rarely live on their land. They are absentees, and
spend their time at Rome, Naples, or Florence, or at
some large Sicilian town. The landlord lets his estate
to a gabelotto, or middleman, and the gabe lotto sublets
the land to the peasantry or employs them to work it.

Peeps at Many Lands

The gabelotto has only one aim — to make money for
himself. So he squeezes the peasant as hard as he can,
either letting land to him on the severest terms, or
paying him little or nothing for his labour. Villari
says :

" The peasantry live in villages for safety, and go
out to their work, which is often miles away, every
morning. In the villages there are a few good houses
belonging to the gabelotti of the neighbourhood, while
the rest of the population, the wretched peasants, live
in the filthiest and most miserable hovels. The
gabelotti ride about the country armed and well mounted,
accompanied by escorts of armed and mounted retainers,
so that they are able to tyrannize over the rest of the
population. The system of middlemen is indeed one
of the worst plagues of the island. The misery and
poverty of the Sicilian labourers are almost inconceivable.
They are starved, ill-clad, silent men, hating their
masters with a sullen hatred which, on occasion, breaks
forth into the most savage outburst of cruelty."

It is from this class of wild and desperate men that
the Sicilian brigand springs. A man murders a land-
lord, or gabelotto, whom he hates ; then he flies to the
hills to escape from the law and becomes a brigand, a
highway robber whose hand is against every man.
Among the mountain wilds he meets with other
fugitives from the law, and they form a band which
becomes a terror to the district and a menace to all
peaceful travellers. Not only do they rob those who
fall into their hands, but they attack houses and carry
off people, and hide their captives in some wild and

In Sicily

distant spot ; then they demand a great sum of money
from the friends of the prisoners before the latter can
be set free. Here is an account from a London news-
paper of a recent piece of brigandage :

" Once again the companion of man has proved his
faithfulness and cleverness, saving, if not his master's
life, a large part of his fortune. The other day, four
men in the country near Girgenti, Sicily, gained
entrance to a house by representing themselves as
having been shooting all day, and consequently being
very thirsty. Once inside, they produced their re-
volvers, and confronting the sole occupants, who
happened to be two young brothers, they tied one to
a chair and took the other prisoner, leaving a letter on
the table demanding 40,000 francs (about £1,600) for
the return of the boy. They took him to a cave in
the hills, and, guarding the entrance, soon made as
merry as circumstances permitted.

" Meanwhile the boy became aware that his pet
dog, who had been allowed to accompany him, was
busy digging a hole, as he thought ; but soon daylight
was to be seen, and he understood that that was a way
out. The faithful little animal worked on for some
hours, by which time there was a hole big enough for
his master to push through. The brigands were bliss-
fully ignorant, and only woke to the true position of
affairs when they were confronted by the carabineers
and their late victims, and even yet in prison they are
wondering how that boy got out."

The carabineers are a picked body of armed police
whose duty is to guard travellers upon dangerous roads.

Peeps at Many Lands

The carriage of the tourist is perhaps rolling quietly
along when suddenly, as if springing from nowhere,
two splendid mounted figures close in behind and trot
after the vehicle. They are a pair of fine stalwart
fellows clad in a uniform of blue and red, with white
belts and glittering rifles in their hands, and riding
good horses. They follow for some distance, then
salute, wheel their horses, and walk gently back : they
have reached the limit of their patrol. The traveller
now looks uneasily at the wild, lonely slopes above and
around him, and it is with a sensation of relief that he
sees the next pair slip round a rock or out of a ravine
and trot steadily after him.

Even more wretched than the lot of the peasants
who work in the fields is that of many of those
who work in the sulphur - mines. The labour of
mining the sulphur is hard and poorly paid, but
the miner is fortunate in comparison with the
carrier who bears the blocks of sulphur from the mine
to the open air. These carriers are boys, often mere
children of seven, eight, or nine years of age, and from
two to four work for each miner. As a class the
miners are hard taskmasters, and treat their slaves
with great brutality. The word "slaves'3 is almost
literally correct, for the miners purchase these children
from their parents. When a miner takes a carrier into
his employment he pays the parent a sum varying from
fifty shillings to ten or a dozen pounds. This binds
the boy to his service until the money is paid back.
The money is never paid back, so the transaction is to
all intents and purposes a purchase pure and simple.

» .

<**». I

z
I

In Sicily

This child-labour is most inhuman, and the tasks put
upon these boys, and the vile usage they receive at the
hands of the brutal miners, have caused many Italian
writers to denounce the system in the strongest terms.
One of the latter writes :

" They have to descend the tortuous passages where
the air is fearfully hot and reeks with poisonous sulphur
fumes ; they are given loads weighing on an average
70 pounds or more, which they have to carry for dis-
tances ranging between 100 and 200 yards. As it is
very hot in the mines, they work stark naked ; but
they must also carry their loads for some distance in
the open air, where in winter the thermometer falls
below freezing-point. These boys work from seven
to eight hours in the mines, or from ten to twelve in
the open air, always carrying burdens far above their
strength. They walk slow-footed, bent double by the
crushing load, moaning, crying, or invoking the help
of the Virgin and the saints."

CHAPTER XVII

IN SICILY (continued)

MANY a Sicilian is born in a tomb, spends his life in a
tomb, and finally dies in it, though he does not then
remain there, for it is wanted once more for the living.
Why does he dwell in a sepulchre ? His reason is
good : he is too poor to live anywhere else.

The people of former ages, and, above all, the
IT. 73 I0

Peeps at Many Lands

Greeks who once lived in the island, never built a
tomb. They hewed their last resting-places out of the
solid rock, and to this day the tombs are there just as
they were shaped long ago. The poor Sicilian of
to-day takes a tomb, puts his simple belongings into it,
and stays there in great content. If he can hit upon a
tomb of the time of the Roman Empire, he will make
himself very comfortable ; for those old Romans, who
dug, and built, and shaped things to last for ever,
were in the habit of hewing out a most capacious tomb,
and sometimes a series of tombs opening from one to
the other. In each burial chamber is a broad stone
shelf on which a burial urn once stood. The modern
Sicilian spreads his bed upon it, and seats himself on
the stone benches cut around the walls.

These tomb dwellings are usually found on the
outskirts of towns, and are often inhabited by farm-
labourers. That is one of the odd things of Siciiy :
the farm-labourer is often a townsman, not a country-
man. So unsafe is the open country in some parts of
the land that it is deserted by night. The labourer
walks or jogs on a donkey away to his home in the
town miles off, and comes back to work in the
morning.

When he is at home he spends but little time in his
house. For the poor Sicilian, as for every other South
Italian of his standing, the street is his sitting-room.
Here he spends his spare time, chatting with his
friends and watching the passers-by. There is plenty
to see, for the streets of a Sicilian town are never quiet
for a moment. Here comes a flock of goats. It

In Sicily-
pauses, and one of them is detached from the herd and
driven into a door near at hand, where it nimbly
climbs the stairs to a room where a customer lives.
Here it is milked, for no customer will trust milk
which is not fresh drawn before her eyes. The goat
skips back to the street, and the herd moves on.

Men with fish and vegetables for sale come along
bawling their wares, and are arrested by shrill cries
from far aloft. It is a customer on the top story of a
tall house. She lets a basket down by a cord, and
screams her wishes. The seller takes her money from
the basket, puts in her purchase, and she hauls up the
basket. The water-seller comes along crying his ware.
In this hot and thirsty land he does a great trade in
selling draughts of water, flavoured with some kind of
essence, at a halfpenny each. After him marches the
dealer in dried beans and nuts, and the man who has a
stove and a store of queer food in his basket. This
wandering cook is in great demand, He is constantly
called upon to open his basket and set his stove going
while his patrons watch him at work, and devour
course after course as he sets it before them. Each
course has a fixed price : it is one halfpenny ; and a
dinner of six courses runs to the sum of threepence,
and makes an ample meal for the moderate Sicilian.

A specimen dinner might consist first of a halfpenny-
worth of sea-urchins and a halfpennyworth of chestnut
soup, then a plate of fish (not very fresh, perhaps, but
that is nothing to a Sicilian palate), then artichokes
boiled in oil, followed by fried maize and a slice of
meat (the manner in which the animal came by its

75 IO — 2

Peeps at Many Lands

death is a trifle uncertain, but that is not worthy of
attention), and ending with dessert- — a handful of
cherries and strawberries, or an orange and some dates.
A wealthy customer has a halfpennyworth of wine to
wash it all down, but the more frugal are content with
water.

The carts that roll along the street form a sight in
themselves, for the Sicilian cart is less a cart than a
picture-gallery. The panels are filled with pictures
painted in the gayest and brightest of colours, and the
subjects vary from Bible pictures to a portrait of the
latest brigand who has made himself famous. A
devout carter passes whose vehicle is adorned with
figures of saints and pictures of martyrdoms. The
next is a worldly fellow who has decked his panels
with ballet-girls and comic subjects, and next comes a
cart painted with historical scenes, showing Roger,
Count of Sicily, cutting down hordes of Saracens ; or
William Tell shooting at the apple ; or Columbus
setting out on his famous voyage. A driver with a
poetical turn decorates his cart with scenes from the
great Italian poets.

The cart itseJf is simply a large square box on two
high wheels. There are no seats in it, and it is used
for every kind of work. If it has to carry people,
benches or chairs are placed in it, and a most astonish-
ing crowd manage to pack themselves away in the
affair. Fourteen or fifteen people form a common
load for a Sicilian cart, and one ass slowly jogs along
with this remarkable freight.

When the benches are out of the cart the latter is

In Sicily

ready to receive a huge load of sulphur, or furniture,
or dung, or anything and everything its owner has to
carry. The load is always huge, and the hardy ass
manages to haul it along, however big it may be.
When the day's work is over, the faithful donkey
goes home with his master, and very often not to a
stable, but to a corner of the family sitting-room.
The poor Sicilian thinks that what is good enough for
him is also good enough for his ass or mule, and a
single apartment is often shared by the family and
their possessions of a donkey, a pig, a dog, and a crate
of fowls.

The fowls always live in a crate so that they may
not stray away, and be lost or stolen. In the morning
the crate is lifted out into the sunshine. At evening it
is lifted back into the house, and that is all the change
the fowls ever know. The dog is, of course, a close
friend of the family, and goes with them everywhere,
even to church. It is a very common sight in a
Sicilian church to see the dogs stretched beside their
owners at service, and they behave themselves in the
most correct fashion. This cannot always be said of
the children, for the latter often make a playground of
the church, and romp about while service is going on.
One writer speaks of seeing a little boy trundling an
iron hoop over the stone flags of a church floor while a
solemn service was being held, and of other boys sail-
ing paper boats in the holy-water vessel in a cathedral,
and no one interfered with them.

Nor is the dog always the meek and mild creature
he appears. By day nothing could be more harmless

Peeps at Many Lands

than the Sicilian dog. Half a dozen children pull him
to and fro by his ears and hair, and he does not
protest. The stranger passes by, and he does not give
a single yelp. But at night he is a very different
fellow. He rouses himself and goes on guard. He
bares his teeth, and his hair bristles. He is a wolf-
dog, true brother of the savage wolves which still
haunt the great mountain of Etna, and make raids
upon the flocks. He is ready to tear to pieces any
stranger that comes near the fold or home which he
watches.

CHAPTER XVIII

HOME LIFE IN ITALY

IN England home life is a matter of the first impor-
tance. The Englishman's house is his castle in a very
literal sense, and in our cold climate he needs its pro-
tection and comforts so much that he naturally thinks
a very great deal of it. In Italy things are quite
different. The Italian sleeps in his house, and some-
times eats there, but he passes so much time outside
— in the streets, in the cafe, at the theatre — that he
troubles little about " the comforts of home."

The upper classes live in vast palaces, very stately
and grand perhaps, but far too big to be made com-
fortable, particularly in winter. Then one shivers in a
great bare carpetless apartment, with a chilly marble
floor, dotted with a few rugs, and at one side a small

Home Life in Italy

fireplace with a smaller fire, most of the heat going up
the cavernous chimney. If you find the warmth
insufficient you are supplied with a scaldino, a small
vessel of metal or earthenware, in which is a handful of
hot cinders, and at this you may warm your hands.
But in summer the same rooms are cool and delightful.

The size of the rooms in these old Italian palaces is
wonderful. " In one palace in Florence the drawing--
room is so enormous that one corner is used as a
billiard-room, with a full-sized table ; another part is
devoted to music, and is occupied by a concert grand ;
another part is the hostess's boudoir ; and all the rest
serves as an ordinary reception-room. When a dance
is given the carpet is partly rolled up, some of the
furniture is pushed aside, and there is a ballroom ready
for use. Roman houses are even larger."

Rich and poor often live close together in a very
odd fashion in Italy. It is not merely that the palace
and the hovel stand side by side ; they very often do
that, and, more, they are very often under one roof.

A great house is divided into flats, each occupying
one story. The finer parts of the building are often
inhabited by people of great wealth, while the garrets
above and the cellars below swarm with wretched
creatures, who often have not enough to eat. " The
latter see splendid equipages drive up to their own
doors, as it were, every day, and costly viands brought
upstairs for great banquets. At night they see ladies
glittering with jewels enter the house, and hear the
strains of dance music, while they themselves are
starving above and below. It is Mayfair and White-

Peeps at Many Lands

chapel in the same building. Nowhere is there a rich
quarter inhabited by the rich alone, nor a poor quarter
containing no good houses. The slums invade all
parts of the town, and sometimes are found near the
gates of the Royal Palace itself."

" In the country it is the same : the nobleman's
villa is surrounded by the houses of his contadini. In
Tuscany, where the labourers and farmers are better
off, the contrast is not so striking or painful ; but in
the South one often comes across a fine castle, furnished
with comfort, and even luxury, the sideboard bright
with silver-plate, the walls covered with silk and
tapestry and good pictures, placed in the midst of a
filthy village of the most miserable hovels, in which
men, women, and children live and starve together with
pigs and cattle. All this contributes to embitter the
feelings of the poor towards their masters, which often
degenerates into unforgiving hatred, and the landlords
have only their armed retainers, who are little better
than bravos, to depend on for their personal safety."

People of the middle classes live either in small
houses or in a flat of some great house let ofr in blocks
of apartments. One room, the drawing-room, is very
gaudy, the rest are carelessly furnished, and, to English
eyes, rather untidy. This is often caused by the lack
of domestic help, for servants are few, because there is
no money to pay for them. The salaries of professional
men are much smaller in Italy than in England. A
man who makes from £200 to £300 a year is looked
upon as very well oft* A country doctor makes less
than j£ioo per annum. A town doctor in good practice

A STREET IN POMPEII. Page 64.

Home Life in Italy

will run up to ^300. A fairly successful barrister
makes about the same. But in both professions there
are vast numbers who live from hand to mouth, and
earn very little in a twelvemonth. Government officials
are also poorly paid, but there is great competition for
an official post, as the work is light and the money
sure. To put the matter in a nutshell, the average
incomes of the two countries may be contrasted : the
average income of an Englishman is ^31 ; the average
income of an Italian is £7 i6s. 8d. — about one-fourth.
The Italian of the middle class never eats more than
two real meals a day. When he awakes he drinks a
cup of coffee and milk, perhaps with a piece of bread-
and-butter, perhaps not. His first meal comes between
ten and twelve, and is a substantial luncheon, when he
eats eggs and macaroni, a dish of meat served with
vegetables, and ends with cheese and fruit. With this

O '

meal he drinks wine, which is, of course, the national
drink, and accompanies every meal among rich and
poor. After lunch he takes a rest before resuming his
occupation, and in summer this rest becomes the siesta,
when every one dozes through the heat of the day.

He does not take tea, which, as a rule, he looks
upon as a medicine, and his next meal is dinner, eaten
about six o'clock. The order of the dinner is much
the same as in England, but there is one great difference
in the fact that almost every eatable is cooked in oil.
This is not so bad if the oil be excellent, sound olive-
oil, but at times it is rancid, and then the result is far
from tasty to an English palate. Again, the favourite
condiment is garlic, and to a stranger a little of this

IT. 8 1 ii

Peeps at Many Lands

goes a very long way. Nor, if you are invited to an
Italian dinner, can you dodge anything. Your hosts
press every dish upon you and every different wine.
To refuse, and to persist in your refusal, would give
offence. It is as much as to say that you do not think
much of their dinner.

" Children," says Villari, " are a very conspicuous
feature of family life. They are here, there, and every-
where, and are not only seen, but heard. There is no
such place as a nursery in an Italian household. As
soon as the children are old enough to sit on a chair
they live with their parents the whole day long. When
the lady of the house has company, her offspring are
generally with her, and are allowed to sprawl over the
guests, and, if they can talk, they frequently interrupt
their elders or contradict them. Children of six dine
with their father and mother, and remain up until ten
or eleven o'clock. Babies are sometimes taken to the
theatre, and children of five quite often."

Everywhere in Italy children are humoured to the
top of their bent, and the baby is king of all. "Every
one makes way for a child. Parents, in their love and
care for the babies, become gentlemen and gentlewomen.
Harsh voices are softened for a baby's ear ; the price of
sweets is lowered by the veriest Jew of a street vendor;
and more than one handsome, lawless brigand has been
known to come down from his mountain fastness, stride
through the neighbouring town, and, at the risk of his
life, demand that his child shall be baptized."

The Italian Peasant

CHAPTER XIX

THE ITALIAN PEASANT

THE Italian peasant has, upon the whole, a very hard
time of it. It is true that his lot is softened to a certain
extent by the blue sky, and the warm sun in which he
basks for a great part of the year, but even in Italy the
sun does not always shine. When the cold winds blow
from the Apennines, and the frost and snow descend upon
him, his poor house is very often bleak and comfortless,
and his scanty fare is insufficient to keep him in health.

As a rule, the peasant is very poor. In many parts
of Italy the land is so poorly tilled that the best is not
made of its powers, and then taxes are very heavy.
The Italian peasant — above all, the peasant farmer — is
a patient, hard-working fellow. His manners are excel-
lent, and he is always ready to show kindness to a
stranger. If his farm lies in a hilly part of the country,
his powers of steady labour are seen to the full. He
cuts the hill-side into terraces for his olives and vines ;
he patiently scrapes all the good earth together into
patches, and brings a little mountain brook along the
cliff in a channel hewn from the rock, to water his
thirsty plants.

In the autumn he is very busy in the chestnut-grove
collecting the brown-coated, shining nuts. In many
parts of Italy chestnuts form a large part of the peasant's
food. Not only does he roast them, but he dries them,

83 II — 2

Peeps at Many Lands

grinds them into meal, and mixes them with rye or
maize to make bread.

The Italian peasant is seen at his best in Tuscany,
where the land system favours him in the disposal of
his labour. " If one goes to a Tuscan town on market-
day, when the farmers of the neighbourhood come in to
sell their produce, in the crowds of peasants with their
dark-brown, handsome faces, their intelligent expressions,
their fairly prosperous appearance, and their stalwart
frames, one sees the Italian rural classes at their best."

On a large estate in Tuscany the owner and the
peasant farmer are partners. The estate is divided
into a number of farms, and the latter, as a rule, run
to some thirty acres each. The peasant works the
farm, and the produce is divided between the landlord
and himself. The oxen on the farm are owned jointly,
and in all respects the interests of landlord and tenant
are in common. The system works well, for the tenant
regards himself as part proprietor, and does his very
best both for himself and his master. The latter pays
all taxes, and, in case of a bad harvest, advances enough
grain to the former to keep him until the next harvest,
when the corn is repaid.

In Northern Italy the farms are let upon rent much
the same as in England, though in some parts there are
numbers of peasant proprietors, who cultivate their own
land and are fairly well off.

In Southern Italy and in Sicily the peasants are seen
at their worst. The farms are mostly worked by hired
labour, or let to small farmers. There are a great
number of labourers, and their condition is most

The Italian Peasant

wretched. Their wages are very low, their work is
very hard, and their homes are miserable hovels.
Owing to their unhealthy dwellings, and the poor, un-
wholesome food they eat, they often suffer from a
dreadful disease known as the pellagra. A victim of
the pellagra is attacked by it at first in the summer, and
is free from it in the winter ; but the intervals of free-
dom shorten as the malady gains power, until the
unhappy victim wastes away to a state of extreme
feebleness, and his skin is affected in such a fashion
that he looks more like a horrible withered mummy
than a man. It is fortunate when his sufferings are
ended by death. This disease is also common in the
vast rice swamps which are found in the east of the
Lombard Plain, and near Venice.

In consequence of their great poverty, large numbers
of the peasantry leave their homes to seek employment
in other lands. They are welcomed everywhere by
employers. They are obedient and hard - working.
Wherever any great bridge-building or railway-laying
is going forward, there are found swarms of Italian
labourers. They are very careful and frugal. They
live very simply, and out of the smallest wage always
save something to send home. " The men are ready
to starve to put something aside for the women and
children," says Villari. But, on the other hand, they
are not welcomed by the labouring classes of the
country to which they go. The Italian will live so
cheaply that he is willing to take small wages, and so
wages are reduced all round. Then, as a rule, he
is very ignorant, and his fondness for using a knife

Peeps at Many Lands

makes him both feared and hated. Italy is the country
of the knife. It is drawn upon slight provocation,
and often severe wounds or death results from a small
quarrel.

The Italian peasant is very superstitious. He
believes in a vast number of mysterious things — in
ghosts, witches, spells, werewolves, and, above all, in
the evil eye. The peasant is not alone in the latter
belief. Throughout Italy are to be found vast numbers
of all classes who believe firmly in the evil eye. They
hold that certain persons can do evil to, or bring evil
upon, others by merely looking at them. They say
that the person having this unpleasant power may
sometimes exert it without willing to do so. The only
thing to make yourself safe is to get out of his way,
but if that be impossible, to make the sign which will
protect you from the threatened harm.

The sign is to form the figure of a pair of horns
pointing downwards. This is done by thrusting out
the first and little fingers, and closing the rest into the
hand. In some parts of Italy this gesture is universal.
It is not only used when meeting a jettatore, or caster
of the evil eye, but is made at once if jostled in the
street by a passer-by, or upon catching the eye of any
stranger, Charms and amulets of the same shape are
worn by children or fastened upon animals to throw
off this fascination of the evil eye.

Many other superstitions are connected with diseases.
If you stammer, keep a pebble in your mouth, and you
will be cured; if you have a bad cold, sniff up some
coal-dust ; and if you have a sore throat, then tie a stock-

The Italian Peasant

ing — and take care that it is a dirty stocking— round
your throat. It is believed that you may cure almost
any disease by collecting the oil which drips from the
framework on which church bells are hung, and rubbing
it on the affected place, and another favourite remedy
is to boil a skein of twine and jump three times
upon it.

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