zrm M^ N i$$! SBfcfe''.'^ .^>3 ^> '=13 JfJr , LT. Q Accession No tr rf^ / % INDINGN oJ/^#^ 7/3 WINTER AND SPEING ON THE SHOEES OF THE MEDITEEEANEAN, WINTER AND SPRING SHORES OE THE MEDITERRANEAN : OK, The Genoese Kivieras, Italy, Spain, Corfu, Greece, the Archipelago, Constantinople, Corsica, Sicily, Sardinia, Malta, Algeria, Tunis, Smyrna, Asia Minor, with Biarritz and Arcachon, AS WINTER CLIMATES By JAMES HENRY BENNET, M.D. H MEMBER OF THE EOYAL COLLEGE OF PHYSICIANS, LONDON, LATE OBSTETRIC PHYSICIAN TO THE EOYAL FEEE HOSPITAL, LONDON, BACHELOR OF AETS, BACHELOE OF PHYSICAL SCIENCES, AND DCCTOK OF MEDICINE OF THE SOEBONNE, AND OF THE UNIVEBSITY, PARIS, ETC. ETC, IENS KEDIEN&QUE GAUDET. FIFTH EDITION* LONDON J. & A. CHURCHILL, NEW BURLINGTON STREET 1875 [The right of Translation is reserved. Don if /SIS' N& 1 ®0 t\t lUnwrj OF THE LATE JOSEPH LANaSTAFF, Esq., fellow of the royal college of surgeons england ; president of the medical board, calcutta; who passed forty years of his life in india, This Work is dedicated by his sincerely attached son-in-law, THE AUTHOE. HIS MOTTO: " W IENS REDIENSQUE GAUDET." PREFACE The present work embodies the experience of fifteen winters and springs passed on the shores of the Mediterranean, from October, 1859, to June, 1874, under the following circumstances : — Five-and-twenty years devoted to a laborious profession and the harassing cares which pursue a hard-worked London physician, broke down vital powers. In 1859 I became consumptive, and strove in vain to arrest the pro- gress of disease. At last, resigning all professional duties, I wrapped my robes around me and departed southwards, in the autumn of the year 1859, to die in a quiet corner as I and my friends thought, like a wounded denizen of the forest. It was not, however, to be so. The reminiscences of former travel took me to Mentone, on the Genoese JEUviera, and under its genial sky, freed from the labours and anxieties of former life, to my very great surprise, I soon began to rally. The second winter I wished to find a locality even more favoured, one more in the stream of life, present or past, and sought for it in Italy. The search, however, was vain, and the unhygienic state of the large towns of that classical land partly undid the good previously obtained. I retraced my steps, therefore, and again took refuge in quiet, healthy Menk>ne. The second trial proved even more satisfactory than the first. I gradually attained a very tolerable degree of convalescence, and once more my thoughts instinctively reverted to professional studies and to professional pursuits. To return altogether to the arena of London practice would have been folly for one just recovering from so fatal a disease. I therefore determined to adopt Mentone as a permanent winter professional residence, merely resuming Vlll PREFACE. London consulting practice during the summer months. Since then I have adhered to this plan, and have spent the winters at Mentone, and the summers in and near London. Between the close of the Riviera winter season, and the resumption of professional duties in London, I take a holiday, in April and May, and have every year employed the leisure in the investigation of the climate and vegetation of other countries on the shores of the Mediterranean. These spring journeys have been conscientiously undertaken with the view to discover a better winter climate than that of the Genoese Riviera, if such exists in the Mediterranean, both for my own advantage and for that of others. They have extended over a period of more than eighteen months. Hitherto I have not succeeded in finding a better winter climate in the Mediterranean than that of the more sheltered regions of the western Riviera, and the results of my researches may be embodied in a few words. On the shores and islands of the Mediterranean there are two kinds of winter climates r — 1st. The mild and dry : viz., the north shores of the Mediterranean in general, and more especially the western Genoese Riviera, and the east coast of Spain. 2nd. The mild and moist i viz., the Ionian Islands, the Grecian Archipelago, Corsica, Sicily, Sardinia, Malta, and also the south coast of the Mediterranean, Algeria, Tunisia, the delta of Lower Egypt, Palestine, and Asia Minor ; all in variable degree. I must refer to the book itself for the data on which this statement is founded. The work first appeared as a mere essay on the winter climate and vegetation of the Mentone amphitheatre, and was published in 1861. It has expanded, in successive editions, until it has become a careful meteorological and botanical study of the vegetation and of the winter and spring climates of the shores and islands of the Mediterranean basin, with the exception of Egypt and Palestine. Not having as yet visited these countries, I have said but little about them, my rule being only to describe localities personally explored. The purely scientific character has been, in some measure, laid aside, and the thoughts, fancies, and travelling impres- sions of a long period of invalidism have been recorded. In studying the climate of these various regions of the PREFACE. IX Mediterranean sea I have taken as my guides Botany and Horticulture, because they are the surest, the least capable of deceiving. Observations founded on the ther- mometer and on the registration of winds are very un- certain, and are open to many sources of error. The results obtained by their means may be invalidated by bias on the part of the observer or by his ignorance of meteorology, by imperfect instruments or by a badly-selected locality for observation. With the vegetable world it is far different, for it cannot deceive, and erroneous conclusions are easily avoided by one who knows its laws. To its component members, tempera- ture is simply a matter of life and death, and the presence or absence of a plant in a locality says more than would pages of thermometrical observations. Plants, moreover, reveal much more than mere temperature, for they are in- fluenced in life, health, and luxuriance by moisture or dry- ness, by wind or by calm, and by the nature of the soil in which they grow. At the same time I have avoided entering into minute botanical details, or giving long lists of plants, for my object was not botanical research and exactness ; I have wished merely to study climate through vegetation. I have wished to ascertain by the observation of common trees, shrubs and flowers, and of their epoch of producing foliage and flowers, the difference that exists between the winter and spring climate of different regions of the Mediterranean as compared with the north of Europe. A more minute study of the Mediterranean Flora would, certainly, have rendered this work more valuable in a scientific point of view. I am, however, on the one hand, scarcely prepared for such a study by previous labours in the direction of purely scientific botany, and on the other I might have repelled mere medical and general readers, to whom I more especially address myself, and who, as a rule, are unacquainted with the minutiae of botanical science. As, however, my descriptions of natural phenomena were written on the spot, and may be considered careful mental photographs of what actually exists in the regions described, they may prove useful even to scientific readers. Professed X PREFACE. botanists, meteorologists and geologists, may see more in. my descriptions than I myself see, with a more limited knowledge of these sciences. In every region of the Mediterranean examined, both on the north and south shores and on the islands, the ground in any given point is occupied, according to soil, by pretty nearly the same plants in a general sense. In other words, although, in any region a botanist might find in a square mile several hundred species, yet the ground is actually occupied by a limited number of species ; they are the real inhabitants of the country, and shoulder the rarer species out of the way into holes and corners as it were. Probably this is the case everywhere, and makes the study of vegetation, in a superficial sense, a much easier matter than it is generally supposed to be. Moreover, the Flora of the entire Mediterranean basin is everywhere very similar, indeed all but identical in its main features, for the same soils and under the same conditions of protection and temperature. This will be perceived by my descriptions of vegetation, and must be the explanation and excuse for their sameness. Although many of the regions described were visited several times in the course of my fifteen years' rambles, I have adhered throughout to the narrative style, preserving the first written descriptions. First impressions have, or ought to have, a freshness about them which constitutes the charm of a book of travels, if charm it has; these first impressions are essentially fugitive, they can never be re- called. We never again see even the loveliest scene in nature with the feelings that were first roused in our minds. I have, however, modified and supplemented " first impressions" whenever necessary, so as to secure correctness. The Ferns, Weybrjdge, Surrey/* „ Grosvenor Street, London. Mentone, France (Winter). CONTENTS. PAGE Introductory remarks — The Mediterranean basin and its climate 1 PART I. THE NORTH SHORES OP THE MEDITERRANEAN. THE WESTERN RIVIERA AND MENTONE. CHAPTER I. Mentone — Situation — Climate as shown by vegetation . . 8 CHAPTER II. Geology — The cretaceous or secondary period — The nummulitic or tropical period — The conglomerate and glacial period — The Bone caverns — Pre-historic man . . . .39 CHAPTER III. Physical geography and meteorology of the Riviera and of Mentone 63 CHAPTER IV. Flowers and horticulture on the Riviera 95 CHAPTER V. The Mediterranean — History — Navigation — Tides — Depth- Sounding — Storms — Temperature — Fish — A naturalist's preserve — Blue colour — The St. Louis rocks . . . 122 Xll CONTENTS. CHAPTER VI. PAGE The climate of the Genoese Riviera and of Mentone considered medically 152 CHAPTER VII. Mentone in its social aspect — Amusements — Drives — Rides — Pedestrian excursions — Mountain villages — Casino — Churches — Social life 173 CHAPTER VIII. Western Italy — The two Rivieras — Eastern Italy — Bologna — Ancona— Taranto — Brindisi 207 CHAPTER IX. Spain — Carthagena — Murcia — Elche — Alicante — Valencia — Cordova — Seville — Malaga — Granada— Madrid — Vallado- lid — Burgos 245 CHAPTER X. Corfu and the Ionian Islands — Greece and the Archipelago — Constantinople — The Danube . . . . . 292 PART II. THE LARGE ISLANDS OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. CHAPTER XI. Corsica — Its physical, geological, botanical, and social charac- teristics — Its history — Its climate— Ajaccio and Bastia as winter climates — Orezza and Guagno as summer stations — Sartene — Bonifacio and the eastern coast . . . 331 CONTENTS. XU1 CHAPTER XII. PAGB Sicily — The departure — Climate as shown by vegetation — Palermo — Messina— Catania — Mount Etna — Syracuse — The return 405 CHAPTER XIII. Sardinia — The voyage— La Maddelena — The Straits of Boni- facio — Physical geography — Porto Torres — S assari — Osilio — Oristano— Iglesias — The zinc and lead mines — The Campidani — Cagliari . . . . . . . 458 CHAPTER XIV. Malta — The voyage from Tunis — Physical geography — Yaletta — Vegetation — The interior — Cultivation — The St. Antonio gardens — Winds — Rainfall 484 PART III. THE SOUTH SHORES OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. CHAPTER XV. Algiers and Algeria — The sea voyage — Algiers— The experi- mental garden — The Trappist monastery — Kabylia — Fort Napoleon — Blidah— The Chiffa Gorge — Milianah — Teniet- el-Had— The Cedar forest— The Desert— The valley of the Cheliff — Orleansville — Oran — Climate and medical conclu- sions 492 CHAPTER XVI. Tunis and Tunisia — Arrival — Railroad— The city — The Bardo — Vegetation — Gardens— Climate — The ruins of Carthage 566 CHAPTER XVII. Smyrna and Asia Minor— The Gulf of Smyrna — The city — Vegetation — Climate — A fire — The ruins of Ephesus . 574 XIV CONTENTS. PART IV. THE ITALIAN LAKES— BIAEEITZ-AECACHON-THEE- MOMETEICAL TABLES AND EEMAEKS — THE JOUENEY TO THE MEDITEEEANEAN AND THE EETUEN. CHAPTER XVIII. PAGE The Italian lakes — Lake Iseo — Como — Lugano — Maggiore — Orta — The Scotch Lochs— Loch Awe — Loch Maree — Iselle — The Simplon Pass 581 CHAPTEE XIX. Biarritz — Biarritz as an autumn and winter residence — Situation— Climate — Seabathing — The late Imperial resi- dence — Arcachon ^ -------- qq^ CHAPTEE XX. Thermometrical Tables and Eemarks » . 617 CHAPTEE XXI. The journey from England to the Mediterranean — The Eeturn 630 LIST OF MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. The Engravings and Maps to be bound opposite the page. PA6E FBONTISPIECE. PANOEAMA OF THE MENTONE AMPHITHEATBE. PANOEAMA MAP OF THE GULF OF GENOA AND OF THE SUB- BOUNDING MOUNTAINS 1 SWALLOW OUTWABD BOUND , 7 VIEW OF THE EASTEBN SIDE OF THE MENTONE AMPHITHEATEE 12 THE LEMON GIEL 19 THE OLD OLIVE TBEE 20 GEOLOGICAL CHABT 40 FOSSIL NUMMULITES 42 THE BONE CAVEEHS 50 PBE-ADAMITE FLINT INSTEUMENTS ......... 53 THE FOSSIL MAN , 55 MI ITALIAN GABDEN (ENTRANCE) 96 MY ITALIAN GABDEN (LEISUBE HOUBS) 102 THE DEVIL FISH 136 THE ST. LOUIS BOCKS AND BBIDGE 148 PANOEAMA MAP OF MEN TONE 174 THE DONKEY WOMAN , 185 THE DONKEY BOY 186 THE OLD TOWN OF MENTONE 194 THE BOED1GHEEA PALM GEOVE 230 PANOEAMA MAP OF SPAIN 245 TICKET OFFICE FOB THE BULL-FIGHT 250 THE ALHAMBEA — COUBT OF LIONS 284 THE ALHAMBBA 291 PANOEAMA MAP OF COBSICA 331 XVI LIST OF MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. PASB COBSICAN MOUNTAINS AT SUNEISE 332 PANOEAMA MAP OF SICILY 405 PANOEAMA MAP OF SABDINIA 459 PANOEAMA MAP OF ALGESIA 493 VIEW OF ALGIEES . 497 VEILED AEAB WOMAN 499 AEAB MENDICANT 500 OLD NEGBO MUSICIANS *. 501 AEAB GIEL . 502 STEEET AT ALGIEES 504 JEW COFFEE SELLEE . 505 DANCING GIEL 507 THE TEAPPIST ZOUAVE 520 KABYLE VILLAGE AND WOMEN 534 THE AEAB TENT 558 EUFFIE 631 THE SWALLOW HOMEWAED BOUND 646 PANOEAMA MAP OF THE MEDITEEEANEAN BASIN (AT END OF INDEX) 656 The Maps contained in this work are chromolithographed by M. Erhard, of Paris. The Frontispiece is chromolithographed from a water- colour of Mr. E. Binyon, by Messrs. Brooks. The woodcuts are by Messrs. Butterworth and Heath, from sketches and from photographs by M. Davenne and by Mr. W. Rouch. The Algerine wood engrav- ings are principally from photographs by Messrs. Geiser, of Algiers. IWparErhara.tt.r. buguajTro^ ,Pa^ WINTER AND SPRING ON THE SHORES OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. THE MEDITERRANEAN BASIN AND ITS CLIMATE. The fifteen winters that I have spent on the Genoese Riviera in study and meditation, the year and a half devoted, in April and. May, to the exploration of the Medi- terranean shores and islands, have produced their fruits. I have attained a much more comprehensive knowledge of the climate of the Mediterranean generally, as also of its vegetation, than I possessed when the first editions of this work were published. By degrees, as my personal ex- perience of the different regions of the great inland sea has extended, as my knowledge of its vegetation has increased, the laws which regulate and decide the Mediterranean climates have become clearer, more precise. It is my wish and intention in these introductory remarks to state, lucidly and concisely, what these laws are. They will constitute the key to the entire work, and will find their explanation and elucidation in each successive chapter. Climate may be said to be the result of geographical conditions and of proximity to land or w r ater. Weather depends on seasons and on " which way the wind blows/' Except in the Tropics, winds from the north are cold in winter, cool in summer ; whilst winds from the south are mild in winter, hot in summer. Again, both in winter and summer, winds north or south are dry if they come over B GU/ OF GENOA (AND THE PROTECTING MOUNTAIN^ ) 3j 4o 5o kilom_ it i6Jtlilles 2 THE MEDITERRANEAN BASIN. continents and mountains, moist if they come over water, ocean, sea, or' lake. These data are susceptible of so general an application that a person possessed of a moderate knowledge of meteor- ology and of physical geography might almost determine the climate of any region of the earth without leaving his stud}^. The Mediterranean, the earth's " great inland sea," is comprised between latitude 45° and 30° North, and between longitude 5° W. and 36° E. Its width from the Straits of Gibraltar to Syria is 2200 miles. Its breadth at the nar- rowest part, between Sicily and Africa, is 79 miles; at the broadest part, from the head of the Adriatic to Africa, 1200 miles. (Fide Map at end.) The North shores of the Mediterranean, from Gibraltar to Constantinople, are fringed by mountains, generally abutting on the shores, which constitute the southern extremity of the continent, of Europe. The South shores of the Mediterranean are partly occupied by a narrow range of mountains and mountain land (Atlas) and partly by the desert of Sahara, which covers a great portion of the con- tinent of Africa. The great desert begins behind the Atlas range, not more than a hundred miles from the sea, and reaches its shores between Tripoli and Syria. The desert of Sahara is believed to be the hottest region in the world. The islands of the Mediterranean are all mountainous. They may be said to be the summits of submarine moun- tains and of mountain ranges. Thus the Mediterranean is a subtropical region by lati- tude. Physically it is a deep depression or basin, com- municating with the ocean, fringed continuously with high mountains on its north shore, bounded by lower mountains and by the greatest and hottest desert of the globe on its southern shore. From its subtropical position the sun is very powerful, winter and summer, all over the Mediterranean, when not obscured by clouds. From its geographical position, sur- rounded by land and by continents, 34°, or even to 30° in exposed situations, at the mouth of ravines and torrents, on the sea shore, but it never freezes in less exposed localities. These temperatures of mid-winter and mid-summer are reached by a gradual fall FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 99 of the thermometer in autumn as the days shorten, and by a gradual rise in spring as they increase in length. The entire region is protected by an amphitheatre or semicircle of mountains, some 4000 feet high, from north, north-west, and north-east winds. Thus the inhabitants, animal and vegetable, are like plates in a plate-warmer before a kitchen fire — videlicet, the sun ; or Jike fruit trees on a south wall. Such are the data on which the vegetation of the district is based; long droughts with a high temperature in summer, all but tropical rains from the south-west or south-east in autumn and spring, dry sunny weather in winter, with, for two months, a night minimum temperature of about 44°) and no frosts. Such climatic conditions are peculiarly suited, as already stated, to the Olive, the Lemon, and the Orange tree, which cover the hill sides, and constitute all but the sole agri- cultural produce. In the gardens, such as they are, mostly, if not entirely planted as adjuncts to the villas built for strangers, many flowers and plants will thrive and blossom, more or less, all winter, with scarcely any care. Thus the following grow luxuriantly, and most can stand the summer drought without irrigation : — Aloe, Cactacese in general, Mesembryanthemum, Iris, Maritime Squill, Cineraria maritima, Alyssum, Rosemary, Thyme, Wallflowers, Stocks, Carnations, Marguerite, Geranium, Pelargonium, Marigold, Arabis, Silene pendula, Primula (common and Chinese), Violets, Pansies, .Nemophilaj Hepatica, Roses, Chrysanthe- mum, Salvias of many kinds, Lavender, Mignonette, Fabriana imbricata, Justicia alba, Tobacco, red Valerian, D.iphne, Spirea, Achillea, Veronica, Erica Mediterranea, Nasturtium, Habrothamnus elegans, Lantana, Abutilon, Datura Stramonium, Linum trigynum, Sparmannia Afri- cana, Petunia, Cyclamen, Camellias, Azaleas, Calla iEthio- pica, Richardia /Ethiopica, Wigandia Caracasana, Big- nonias, Begonias, Cineraria, Verbena, Cytisus, Cistus, many species of Passion flowers, Chorozema, and most Australian winter flowering Mimos-ae and Acacise ; spring bulbs — Crocus, Snowdrop, Hyacinth, Ranunculus, Narcissus, Ixia, Sparaxis. As stated, most of these plants can rest in the warm dry summer without being injured therebv. They H 2 100 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. are all, or nearly all, perennial in this climate. They start into life with the autumn rains, flowering more or less early in the winter or spring, and most of them continue in full bloom from Christmas to April, a month which, horti- culturally, corresponds to June in England. Most winters, in England, paragraphs appear in the newspapers, from residents in the more favoured regions of our island, giving lists of the flowers still blooming in their gardens. It may be remarked, however, that these lists never appear after Christmas, or the end of December at the latest. The fact is that in England November and December are generally rainy, and not very cold months. Although the weather is very often damp, foggy, cool, un- favourable to human health, it seldom actually freezes so as to destroy vegetable life. The hard frosts of winter generally commence about Christmas or the week after, and then the autumn flowers are all destroyed to the ground, and no such floricultural paeans are possible. On the Genoese Riviera, on the contrary, after Christ- mas, if there has been sufficient rain, vegetation takes a start and rapidly gains ground, under the influence, not so much of a high night temperature (for we feel the January cold of continental Europe), but of the increasing length of the day, and of the ardent light and sunshine of an unclouded sky. The increased length of the day is scarcely sufficiently estimated in calculating the effect of temperature on vege- tation. I was much struck by its action in England in the year 1867. The days were more than usually cold and rainy until August, and the thermometer at night often went down nearly to the freezing point, and yet vegetation pro- gressed much as usual, each plant and flower coming to maturity at about the usual period. Evidently the increas- ing length of the clay, and the decreasing length of the night, were favouring and advancing vegetation. Thus on the north shore of the Mediterranean, although in December and January the days are generally days of warm ardent sunshine, they are so short, say nine or ten hours only, compared to the cold nights of fourteen or fifteen hours, that vegetation receives a great check. During these FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 101 months the generality of flowering plants, although there is no frost and no cutting north winds, remain rather stationary, with some brilliant exceptions, only well formed buds opening out. Most of the above-mentioned plants have been long tried in the gardens of this part of the world, and have been found adapted to the soil and climate. They survive the summer heat and drought, and require merely common care, with artificial irrigation in autumn, if the autumn rains fail, as they occasionally do, in order to thrive and . flower in the open air. I commenced my gardening with the already well-known plants, and soon secured flowers for every winter month in sufficient abundance to deceive the eye and to make winter^ look like summer, both in the open garden and in the drawing-room. Now I am trying to cultivate some of the flowers belonging to the lower latitudes of the southern hemisphere of Australia and South America, which bloom naturally in winter, and which we cultivate in winter con- servatories, and have found that the winter heat is sufficient to flower many of them in* the open air. Thus I have planted in the open air, in an artificial prepared soil, Cho- rozemas and Kennedyas, Ixias and Sparaxis, which have passed through the winter in good health, and have flowered freely. I have repeatedly tried Epacrises and Cape Heaths, thinking that they would thrive in such a climate, which must be very similar to that of Australia and of the Cape of Good Hope. They get through the winter very well, but wither and die in summer, more, I really believe, from want of proper shading and watering than because the climate is unsuitable. This seems, however, to be the general experience of horticulturists in the south, for they are not found in the catalogues of the leading houses at Marseilles and Nice, because, I was told, they did not answer. Thus I had to send for the plants I have tried from England. On arriving at my Riviera garden the last week of October I am able to form a pretty correct idea of the manner in which the plants have stood the influence of the scorching heat of summer. Six months of blazing sunshine, which so heats the ground that if the peasants touch it barefoot 102 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. the soles of their feet are burnt, without clouds or rain, barring a very exceptional shower of half-an-hour's dura- tion, are calculated to test the idiosyncrasy, the peculiar constitution, of any plants. The sheltered situation of the garden renders it peculiarly trying in summer, for it is in an angle of the limestone rock, south-east and west, and exposed to the full power of the sun all day long. My gardener rather quaintly tells me that in midsummer it is a furnace — i( C'est comme Venfer, monsieur." The plants that stand this sun heat and drought the best without any irrigation are the plants which are natives of the country, and which in it find their natural habitat, the conditions most favourable to their existence, such as Thyme, Rosemary, Cineraria maritima, sweet Alyssum, Lavatera, Iris, Scilla maritima, Juniper; also the Cactacesa in general, the Aloe, the Mesembryanthemum. They still, after all this roasting, look perfectly well and flourishing. All these plants have very long fibrous roots, which in- sinuate themselves into the crevices of the rocks in the search for moisture, and probably find it. In this respect, however, the Geranium and the Pelargonium appear to rival them. It is positively marvellous how well they bear the heat and drought; they thrive in the rockiest, warmest, driest part of the garden, and at the end of the summer, when even Aloes are drooping for want of moisture, they are all right; they have merely lost the greater part of their leaves, and are ready to start into full luxuriance as soon as they are watered. My gardener tried an experiment one summer. He had several large Aloes, well established, and planted in the warmest regions, in a foot or two of soil only, in corners of the rocks. He left them entirely without water all summer, as also Geraniums and Pelargoniums in the same locality. When autumn arrived the Aloes appeared to have nearly succumbed, for their thick leaves fell flaccid, and appeared partly withered, whilst the Geraniums and Pelargoniums, also left to themselves, were all right and flourishing, beating their companions by a long way. I must add that when the Aloes were watered they soon filled their leaves, pricked up their he< r :ds, and in a couple of weeks w T ere as healthy and as good looking as any in the IJliJlt * FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 103 garden. No doubt this is the way they meet such trials and misfortunes in their own country. The Geranium flowers all winter sparsely, and profusely by March. The choicest Pelargoniums become large bushes, and flower sparsely in March, and profusely in April, in the open ground, in sunny, sheltered spots. From this may be drawn the moral, that in our own country they may be planted in the driest places and safely left to nature. The Aloe, Squill, and Iris may be put in the same category. They seem to care nothing at all for sun roast- ing and scorching. The large bulb of the Squill, the root of the Iris, may be pulled up and left in the blazing sun for weeks, and yet once planted and watered they will start and grow as if nothing had happened. Another feature connected with them is that they are what my gardener calls " des mange tout" that is, they take complete posses- sion of the soil around, and starve out everything else. If planted in little, or indeed in all but no soil, they thrive and do well, but attain no great size. If, however, they are planted in a border with a good d' j pth of the lime s>il of the country, they start into vigorous, determined growth, throw out strong roots in all directions, and smother all other vegetation. The Aloe especially seems determined to have the border all to himself. He sends out roots ten, fifteen, or more feet long, and at the end of these roots appear new plants, which if left to themselves would soou vie with their parent in hungry desperation. We have been obliged to take up the Aloes, the Irises, and the Squills, which we had placed as edgings, and put them on the top of a wide wall. Many of the Aloes we have put "in prison," as Antoine, the gardener says — that is, we have built small nooks and corner terraces for them against the rock, and have put them there by themselves, as in a penitentiary, where they can do no harm to anything else. i have left one large fellow in ten feet of soil to do as he likes, and it is a pleasure to see the vigorous manner in which he is growing. Within a few years he has become a giant in size. I have no doubt but that the Aloe might be cultivated profitably on the arid flanks of the mountains of the 104 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. Riviera. Its leaves contain abundance of strong elastic fibres, which are easily extracted by a process of macerating and cleaning* in Mexico, its native country. They are imported to a considerable extent into England for brush- making. In Mexico they are also used for making ropes, nets, and mats. Another species is cultivated in Mexico for the sake of the juice of the leaves, with which an alcoholic drink called " pulque" is made. The endurance of heat shown by the Squill (Scilla maritima) is not surprising, for I found it in the driest parts of Algeria, and was told that it penetrated into the desert of Sahara, and was all but the last plant to give in. The same remark, but in a minor degree, may be made with regard to all the other plants that are natives of the country. The Cineraria maritima, planted in a border with plenty of soil, instead of being, as usual here, a small shrub growing out of the crevices of the rocks, becomes in a year or two a huge bush, as does the Lavatera, the very pretty mountain Mallow. We get good plants of Cineraria maritima by pulling them out of the crevices of the lime- stone rocks after heavy rains, which have reached the roots and loosened them. I dare not say where, according to Antoine, these roots go to, but they certainly go a long way, for they sometimes come out several feet in length. The Thyme and Rosemary also grow with wild luxuriance when planted as an edging to the borders, so as even to astonish the natives of the country. The Thyme, as a dwarf dense shrub, so covered with flower in early spring, that the leaves can scarcely be seen, is really beautiful. As I sit writing these lines in a Fern grotto or summer-house overlooking the sea and the Mentone amphitheatre, the Thyme bushes scent the air, and are covered with real wild " Ligurian bees." Different species of Mesembryanthemum also grow without care or irrigation in the warmest regions, hanging down the sunburnt walls, and on the sloping banks and rocks in huge verdant festoons, like rivers of verdure. . When planted so as to hang down perpendicular walls there comes a time when the mere weight of the mass of fleshy leaves strangles the plant and it dies. They require a good supply FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 105 of earth for their roots. They begin to flower in March, and are in full flower by the beginning or middle of April. The scarlet variety is "more especially grand when covered with thousands of flowers, which make the wall, or rock, or bank, one glowing mass of scarlet. There is a flower at the axil of every fleshy leaf. All sorts of Cactaceas flourish in the same vigorous manner; they seem to be able to live, like the Aloe, on an infinitesimal supply of earth, and they appear only to want something to hold on by. I presume that a large proportion of the species of this family would survive here in the open air, as out of a collection of three hundred different species received from a well known Parisian grower, M. Pf'ersdorff, and planted out, more than two-thirds have survived. The Opuntia, or Prickly-pear, soon becomes a grotesque kind of tree on the Riviera, as in Corsica, Sardinia, Sicily, and Africa ; but it is not much cultivated on the Ligurian coast, where its fruit is not held in much esteem. Roses — Hybrids, Teas,, Bengals, Multiflores, Banksias, Centifolias — begin their spring flowering in March, and flower as freely in April and May as they do with us in June and July. If not allowed to exhaust themselves, kept at rest during the hot months, and watered from September, the Hybrids and Teas, especially the Gloire de Dijon and Sofrano, make a new growth, flower freely again in autumn, October, November, and December, and sparsely throughout the winter in warm sheltered situations. In such localities the Bengals and monthlies flower freely all winter, so that there are always Roses for bouquets even in midwinter, grown in the open air. Chrysanthemums I find in full glory on my arrival in October. They continue flowering until Christmas. There is one large white species, of a trailing habit, which is per- fectly beautiful : it covers the ground with lovely white flowers, and looks like a bridal bouquet. Very soon appears the Linum trigynum, which thrives and flowers like a Gooseberry bush. The soil and climate must be just what it requires, for it grows readily from cuttings without care, forms vigorous plants without manure, and bears myriads of handsome -yellow flowers, which continue until March, 106 THE BIVIERA AND MENTONE. by which time every branch is covered with seed-pods. Gazanias are quite hardy, flowering in March. One of the winter-flowering shrubs which does the best, and flowers the most freely, is the Habrothamnus elegans. It grows as a bush some ten or fifteen feet high, is in flower by autumn, and bears myriads of flowers all winter. The Ageratum also flowers all winter freely, in the driest and rockiest parts of the garden. It grows to a good-sized bush, and is one mass of bloom. The same may be said of the composite CX teospermum and of the Datura Stra- monium. The Dasylirium thrives thoroughly in the open ground. Some plants received from Algiers a few years ago, and planted in rock work, have become large and beautiful specimens. The Heliotrope likes the lime soil and the sunny dry w r eather, for it grows and thrives like a blackberry bush, flowering profusely all through the winter in sheltered sunny situations. As it does not die down, but becomes a large ligneous shrub, and bears its sweet-scented ever- renewed flowers on every twig, it is an important feature of the winter garden at Mentone. Its healthy luxuriance in January and February is also a good test of the mildness of the locality, and of its immunity from frost. In the shade a'nd in exposed situations it does not die, but vegetates and flowers sparsely only during the winter. Lantanas also flower very freely during the autumn and winter, becoming large ligneous shrubs — nearly trees, indeed. They seem to require little or no care, and grow well in dry, rocky, sunburnt situations, bearing the summer heat and aridity uninjured. Bougainvillea spectabilis is generally considered, I be- lieve, to require rather a high temperature. I have had, however, several plants growing in the open air for some years, which are perfectly healthy, and are flowering freely.. I was led to plant them out owing to the iollowing circumstances :— In the garden of M. Thuret, the well- known botanist at Antibes, which is more exposed and colder than Mentone, I found on April 22, the south- eastern facade of the house completely covered with a magnificent Bougainvillea spectabilis in full flower. It FLO WEES AND HORTICULTURE. 107 was truly a splendid sight, for the entire front of the house was one blaze with the flowers and rose-coloured bracts of this lovely climber. On my return to my country resi- dence at Weybridge I was surprised to find a Bougainvillea four years old in full flower for the first time, half filling a hothouse. In this house, which had always been heated until that very winter, the Bougainvillea, planted, in peat and leaf-mould in a, border formed by bricking up an angle, had thriven but never flowered. Owing to altera- tions it had been kept cool, the frost merely having been kept out of the house. My gardener, who had lived for many years in a leading horticultural establishment, told •me that he had always known the Bougainvillea treated by heat, and was surprised to see it flower so very freely under cool treatment. This result, however, coincided with what I hud witnessed at M. Thuret's at Antibes. I may add, that I have also since seen it flowering profusely inside and outside a small glass-house at Alphonse Karr's garden at Nice, — at the Jardin d'Essai Algiers, at Malta, and in Sicily on south walls. In the same house at Weybridge we have flowered for years in succession, in moderate heat, other plants, Bignonia jasminoides, and Rhynchospermum jasminoides, usually treated with heat. The sweet Alyssum, so much used with us as an edging, is a native of. this country, and grows luxuriantly in the crevices of the lime rocks on the side of the roads every- where, indeed flowering freely all winter. Like the other natives, if furnished with plenty of soil it becomes quite bushy, and is then one mass of flowers. Chinese Primulas flourish as perennials. A remarkable feature in Riviera gardening is that many flowers which with us are annuals and die down in the autumn, are here perennials and attain a considerable size. Thus Petunias survive the winter, and speedily become large bushes, which are covered with flowers early in February; by the end of that month they are quite gorgeous. Carna- tions also do not suffer from the winter, and become large bushes if taken care of; they flower sparsely during winter in the sun, but not in the shade. Pinks bloom, but not until April ; Ten-week Stocks and Wallflowers become large permanent bushes, and are splendid in March, the 108 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. Stocks especially are dazzling with the profusion of their flowers. The singular Coccoloba platycladon flourishes as a large bush. The Narcissus and Tulip seem to like the lime soil, and grow wild in profusion on some of the cultivated terraces, so much so as to be a nuisance to the agriculturists. The Narcissus begins to flower in January, the Tulip not until the middle of February. Hyacinths are found wild, but not abundantly; they thrive well in the soil of the country. Those which I have brought from England, flowered in pots, and, subsequently planted out, have since bloomed in the open garden as brilliantly as the first year. I presume the climate is very much like that of their native country. Indeed they do better in the lime soil of this region, slightly manured, than when planted in Chestnut mould. In the latter they grow too rankly, as if the soil were too rich for them. Primroses and Hepaticas are found wild abundantly on the shady side of a deep watercourse through a sandstone valley, called the Primrose valley. I have placed them in a light artificial soil, where they flourish, as do Cyclamen persicum, Crocuses, and Snowdrops, the latter brought from England. Snowdrops, however, singularly enough, do not flower before January or February, as in the north. They retain their natural habit, as does the Peach and Apri- cot with us, and die out after a year or two, as northerners unsuited to the climate of the south. Ranunculi do very well even in the lime soil, but better still in a light artificial mould. They flower by the end. of February, and are very lovely. Camellias and Azaleas, and, in general, all plants with very small, delicate roots, do not succeed in the lime soil, which seems too stiff and hot for them. In the absence of peat, which is difficult to obtain in the dry sunburnt regions of the south of Europe, it is usual to plant them in Chestnut earth, mould formed by the decay of the Chestnut leaves in Chestnut tree forests. But at Mentone even this earth is difficult to obtain, and expensive, for it has to be fetched by mules from some ten miles or more in the moun- tains. However, I scooped out all the earth from a small slightly-shaded terrace down to the rock, and filled it with FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 109 an artificial soil, formed of two-thirds Chestnut earth, one- third sand, and a little powdered charcoal. In this border I planted Camellias and Azaleas several years ago. They have done very well, without any protection winter or summer, and the Camellias have flowered freely each winter from Christmas to April ; the Azaleas do not bloom until April. Latterly my gardener has discovered in the higher mountains a region covered with Calluna vulgaris, our ling heather. The soil, to the depth of several inches, is formed by the decay of the heather leaves. I have had a quantit}" of this soil brought down here, rilled two terraces hewn out of the rock, away from olive roots, and have planted them with Camellias from Lago Maggiore which are doing very well. I therefore consider the question solved as to the adaptability of the climate to the cultiva- tion of Camellias in the open, provided a proper soil be supplied. As yet they have not been grown in this district. The Cape Jasmine or Gardenia, planted out in these artificial soils, grows luxuriantly, and is covered with well- formed buds, which blossom at the end of May and beginning of June. The gardener tells me that the flowers are very beautiful, but that their odour is very bad, actually poisoning the garden. This view of the case is a good illustration of the indifference, nay, positive dislike, of many southerners to the scents which we prize the most, whilst they seem to positively rejoice in the most villanous and most unwholesome odours. I must not forget to say a few words about the Salvias, many species of which flower and flourish throughout the winter. The most valuable, however, are : the Salvia cardinalis, or imperialis as it is called here, the Salvia gesneriajflora, and the S. splendens. The former "rows luxuriantly as a large ligneous bush, from five to eight feet high, and is covered with a profusion of terminal crimson flowers. It begins to flower early in December, and con- tinues to present a gorgeous mass of bloom for a couple of months. The two latter grow and flower with the same luxuriance, beginning to blossom about Christmas, and continuing to form dazzling masses of scarlet flowers all winter. They really are perfectly splendid, and both 110 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. deserve the epithet :e splendens," especially when in close proximity to a large bush of the Marguerite, or Chrysan- themum fruticosum. This latter shrub assumes a large size, and by the middle of February, in the sun, is covered with thousands of Daisy-like flowers, which look like a sheet of white. These plants, with the Nasturtium, occupy a prominent place in our winter gardening from the luxuriance of their bloom. The Nasturtium flowers freely all winter, but in the sun only, becoming a ligneous perennial climber. The soil of my garden and rocks being entirely calcareous is not favourable to the general run of Conifers. There are some, however, which seem peculiarly suited to such soils, and thrive on calcareous rocks all over the Mediterranean basin, such as Pin us maritima and Pinus halepensis, and most Cypresses, especially Cupressus pyramidalis, C. macrocarpa, C. Lambertiana. The very beautiful Norfolk Island Pine, Arauearia excelsia, seems to grow vigorously in this soil. There are several very beautiful specimens at the Monaco gardens which have grown to a height of 18 feet in less than four years. I found them flourishing also in the lime soil of Malta. There are several species of Juniper wild on my rocks, and thriving luxuriantly. Bananas grow, flourish, and ripen their fruit in sheltered waim localities, as, for instance, in the garden of General Mouton, on the beach, below the Roccabruna station. I imported from Algiers several Abyssinian Musas, the Musa Ensete, which have grown vigorously in my garden and have become very beautiful "trees," in the course of less than three years. Impressed with the idea that in a climate where the Date Palm flourishes so well other hardy Palms might succeed, I sent to Algiers and Marseilles for those marked half hardy in the catalogues, planted them out, and succeeded in getting many through the winter. The Chamserops humilis proves to be perfectly hardy, which was sure to be the case, as it succeeds where the winter climate is much more severe than on this coast. Thus it grows freely and abundantly in sandy, uncultivated loca- lities in the south of Spain — -in Andalusia especially — as FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. Ill" freely indeed asGorse on our commons; and it used, it is said, to grow wild in Provence and on the Riviera. The Chamserops Palmetto and excelsa also have survived the winters in perfect health, as likewise Latania Borbonica, Cocos oleracea, Phoenix farinosa, Sabal Adansonii, Chamse- rops stauracantha, Oreodoxa Sancona, and Rhapis nabelli- formis. Others died, but I believe that I did not give them a fair trial. They came to me from a healed Palm-house, and were at once planted out in November. Perhaps they would have survived had the transition been less sudden. What makes me think so is that some plants of Linum trigynum which as I have stated is perfectly hardy here, flowering profusely nearly all winter, received from Marseilles at the same time, no doubt from a plant - house, languished and "perished. Moreover, the Palms were planted in the lime soil of the country, and more extended experience of the Palm tribe in Africa and Spain has led me to conclude that to give them a fair chance the soil in which they are planted should be either mainly or partly siliceous. Certainly, wdienever I have seen the Palm growing luxuriantly in masses, the soil has been of this character. For many winters I have been in the habit of putting Palms, principally Latania Borbonica and Corypha australis, in pots and in jardinieres, and keeping them in south draw- ing-rooms, in a day temperature of from 62° to 64°, and night temperature of 54° to 60°. They remain perfectly healthy all winter, and on repotting them in the spring I generally find their roots quite fresh and sound. Palms are much used in this way in Paris, even in winter, for house decoration. They are very ornamental in rooms, and very hardy, bearing the dryness of the atmosphere of inhabited houses with apparent immunity. Indeed, it is sufficient to visit the Palm-houses on the Continent in spring to be convinced of their hardihood. I may mention, as an illus- tration, the Palm-house of the Botanic Garden at Mont- pelier, which I visited one year at the end of April. I found it perfectly crammed with Palms of all sorts, small and large, which had scarcely standing room, and yet they all appeared to be healthy and doing well after a long 112 THE BIVIERA AND MENTONE. winter's confinement in a half-lighted lean-to building. I was told that in summer they were nearly all put out in the garden.' Wishing to ascertain, by personal observation, what light horticulture throws on the climate of other protected regions of the north shores of the Mediterranean, more to the west, in the spring of 1866 I made a horticultural excursion from Mentone to Marseilles, starting April the 10th. At Nice I examined the gardens of Count Margaria, M. Gastaux, and Baron Vigier. In all 1 found, as in my own, the ordinary spring flowers, Salvias, Iberis semper- virens, Silene, Hyacinth, Narcissus, Ranunculus, Vir- ginian Stock, going off, Roses coming on. Count Margaria'' s garden is more especially remarkable for his cultivation of the Camellia in the open air. He has scores of large Camellia trees, from ten to fifteen or twenty feet high, such as are seen on the shores of Lake Como, all looking perfectly healthy, and covered with thousands of flowers. The Count told me that he has been cultivating" Camellias for many years at Nice, and had obtained most of his trees from Como. They had given him great trouble. He had tried various artificial soils, the calcareous soil of Nice, as stated, not suiting Camellias or fine-rooted plants in general. He had planted them in soils composed of" charcoal, decomposed manure, and sand, and in chestnut leaf-mould, the usual soil selected in the south of Europe, but had never been satisfied with the results obtained until he imported soil from the neighbourhood of Lake Como, which he had done at a great expense. This soil is a rich loamy peat, more compact than the peat of the north of Europe, apparently containing a considerable amount of ordinary leaf-mould. It is more suited to the dry air and scorching sun of the Riviera and Nice climate than ordi- nary peat. It is the soil in which the Camellia grows to be a tree twenty or thirty feet high, and shows such surprising lr .uriance, on the shores of Lakes Como and Maggiore. At first the Count, conforming to the usual ideas on this subject, planted his Camellias in the shade, but recollecting that the Como trees are planted in the FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 113 open air, in a locality nearly as warm as Nice, he boldly threw aside all attempts at shading, removed or cut down all protection, leaving them in the full blaze of the sun, and that with decided advantage. I myself recollect being surprised to seethe large tree Camellias at the Italian lake in full sunshine, for wherever I have been, before or since, I have always found half shade inculcated as a precept in their cultivation. Still it must be remembered that the air is not so dry, nor the sun so ardent and scorching, at the Italian lakes as it is on the north shore of the Mediter- ranean. I would remark that these large tree Camellias, covered with thousands of flowers, beautiful as they are, have one great disadvantage when compared with smaller plants. As the blossoms come into flower in succession, not all at once, many must be fading. These faded flowers do not fall off for some time, and spoil the look of the tree unless taken off with the hand. This the gardener does in a conservatory, but it becomes impossible when the tree is covered with myriads of flowers. Thus, although it sounds very grand to hear of Camellias covered with thousands of blossoms, such trees in reality do not look as well when in flower, as smaller, more manageable plants. The principal sorts cultivated were the Iride, alba plena, variegata plena, Anemonseflora, incarnata, althseiflora plena, flowering in November and December ; Henri Fabre, Rival rouge, pul- cherrima, Printemps, flowering in January ; and Grand Monarque rouge, flowering in February. In addition to the plants which I have described as flourishing throughout the winter in my garden in the open air, without protection, I found at Count Margaria's per- fectly healthy specimens of the following plants : — Dasyli- rium robustum, juncifolium, longifolium, gracile, glaucum, strictum, Alsophila excelsa, Ficus repens, Beaucarnea recur- vata, Agnostus sinuatus, Grevillea alpestris, Chamserops excelsa, Bambusa Fortunei, Zamia villosa, horrida, Phor- mium tenax, Bignonia Reevesiana, Philodendron pertusum, Bignonia jasminifolia. The garden of Baron Yigier, which rises by a gentle slope from the sea, looks full south-west, and is thoroughly shel- tered from the north-east by the mountain of Villefranche, i 114 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. It contains many remarkable specimens of some of the above mentioned plants, growing luxuriantly in the open air, as also many others, amongst which I would name Yucca pendula, quadricolor, draconis ; Dracaena Draco, guate- malensis; Greigia sphacelata ; Ficus Chauveri, Porteana; Brahea dulcis; Dion edule, Ohamserops Gbiesbreghtii, tomentosa; Aralia dactylifolia, Araucaria excelsa, glauca robusta; Melaleuca ericifolia, The garden created by M. Gastaux, now the property of M. Gambart, contains many of the above plants, but is more especially remarkable for the magnificent specimens of the MusaEnsete and of the Araucaria which it contains. They grow alone or in groups on the lawn, and are all noble plants. Two Auracaria excelsa have rapidly grown in the course of a few years to an elevation of thirty-five or forty feet, and are perfectly splendid trees ; their foliage is glossy and bright, and each whorl of branches succeeds the other with mathematical precision. The soil and climate must suit them thoroughly; the former is a red calcareous earth, mixed with loam. The Musa Ensete might also be in its native Abyssinia; in three or four years the plants have risen to a height of above twenty feet, and constitute one mass of wide graceful leaves, not drooping as in the common edible Banana, or torn by the wind, as are always the leaves of the latter when planted in the open air, but intact and erect, folding gracefully one over the other. As already stated, I have myself received several from Algiers, which are fast becoming very beautiful plants. This garden is one of the curiosities of Nice. It occupies a large area a little above the sea level, and has been brought into thorough cultivation. Various avenues have been formed of Eucalyptus globulus, Schinus mulli, Magnolia grandiflora, and they are all growing with amazing vigour ; the two former have become large trees in the course of a few years. The Eucalyptus is being planted extensively all over this part of the Mediterranean shore, as alsO in Corsica and Algeria. The summer warmth, the mildness of the winters, and the dryness of the atmosphere appear to repro- duce its native Australian climate, so that it grows with all its natural vigour. As the wood is hard and good — fit FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 115 for building and ship purposes, notwithstanding its very rapid growth, it is likely to prove a very valuable acquisition to the arboriculture of the south of Europe. The large trees planted near the railway station at Nice, the growth of half a dozen years, well illustrate its capabilities as a rapid grower. Moreover, it appears to possess the virtue of rendering malarious regions healthy, probably by draining the soil. It has been tried in marshes, but does not thrive in actually wet land, or in very hot climates. On leaving Nice, I went over to Golf Juan, a few miles from Cannes, to see the gardens of M. Narbonnard, a well-known horticulturist in that region, who supplies most of the Cannes gardens. I found him fully alive to the capabilities of the soil, sun, and climate of this part of the north shore of the Mediterranean. He told me that the failures of most amateurs to raise Palms, Dracaenas, Dasy- lirium, Yuccas, which would really grow and flourish in this region in the open air, were owing, as I presumed, to the specimens planted being received direct from hothouses. In his establishment the plants raised from seeds in heat, and kept under cover for a year or two, are put out-of-doors gradually, kept entirely without protection for a couple of years, and then only given to his customers. By such treat- ment he could rely on their standing out of doors the slight cold of southern winters. He showed me a large collection of plants usually considered too delicate for outdoor cultiva- tion, even in the south of Europe, which he could warrant to stand the winter cold between Toulon and Pisa. In nearly all this region the thermometer goes down to the freezing point or to a degree or two above or below, several times in the winter. Among these were — Phoenix pumila, leonensis, reclinata : Cocos campestris, flexuosa, australis ; Jubsea spectabilis, Seaforthia elegans, Corypha australis, Dion edule, Zamia horrida, Cycas revoluta, Chamserops elegans, Dracaena cordylina, Yucca aloifolia, gloriosa; Casuarina tenuissima, stricta. He had a collection of healthy A.rau- caria excelsa, from two to three feet high. The next day (April 12) I was at Cannes, and went care- fully over the garden of the Duke of Valombrosa, which is very sheltered from the north on a slope all but due south. i 2 116 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. I found vegetation quite as advanced as at Mentone, Nice?, and Golf Juan. The Mesembryanthemum flowed down the bank sides like a river of purple and lilac. The Banksian and m ult i flora Roses were in bloom, other Roses were beginning to open, as also Spiraea, Cytisus, Fabiana im- bricata, and Erica arborea. There were in the open, in a state of perfect health, large specimens of Cycas revoluta, Dion edule, Chamserops reclinata, Phoenix leonensis, Arau- caria Bidwillii, Aralia Sieboldi, Musa Ensete, Dasylirium longissimum, Yucca tricolor, Alsophila australis, Rhopala Corcovadensis, Dracaena indivisa. Indeed, the impression produced upon me by the careful examination of this beautiful and well-kept garden is, that although some regions of the Genoese Riviera or Mediterranean under- cliff, such as Monaco, Mentone, and St. Remo, may be much more sheltered from disagreeable winds than Cannes, and much less exposed to night frosts, the amount of sun- heat received there, in favoured spots, must be quite as great as in any other of these regions. I may say the same of Hyeres, which I visited on another occasion a little later (on the 22nd of April). I found vegetation nearly, if not quite as advanced as at Nice or Cannes. Although more troubled with the mistral, or north-west wind, which is the pestilence of the South of France or Provence, it must share in the general sun-heat and protection which pertains to the coast^ regions sheltered by the Maritime Alps and by the Apennines, as proved by its vegetation. From Cannes I proceeded to Marseilles, and, besides visiting the public gardens, went over, carefully, the beautiful grounds and hothouses of M. Scaramoneya, an eminent Greek merchant, whose gardening establishment, I was told by horticulturists, is one of the best and most complete in the vicinity of Marseilles. I was much struck (April 13) with the extreme difference between the vegetation of this garden and that of the protected coast line which I had just left. The recent presence, and the habitual presence of winter, was evident everywhere. Although in the same latitude, the want of protection from the north showed itself in the complete absence of nearly all southern vege- tation such as I have described. No Lemon or Orange- FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 117 trees, no Palms, no Dracaenas, no Dasylirium, only the most hardy Yuccas. Even the spring- flowers were back- ward, and Geraniums planted out recently in sheltered, sunny situations, had their leaves singed by frost. Deci- duous trees scarcely showed any evidence of life, and there were many other evidences of recent severe weather. The gardener, a very intelligent man, was fully aware of the cause of this state of things. Marseilles has no real pro- tection from the north winds, lying as it does at the bottom of the funnel down which the Rhone descends to the sea. Thus, in winter, the thermometer often goes down from 10° to 15° below the freezing point, whilst in summer, owing to its southern altitude, it is burnt up by the scorch- ing heat reflected from the limestone mountains that sur- round it. Even in summer I was told that the thermometer occasionally descends below the freezing point at night. On the other hand, the south-west wind often blows from the sea so strongly as to bend and break trees and shrubs, or to despoil them of nearly all their foliage. The month of March this year had been unusually severe and boisterous, and many shrubs that had stood their ground for years had been killed. In the conservatories and hothouses, however, I found all the southern plants cultivated in the open air in my garden at Mentone, and at Cannes, Nice., and Hyeres. These plants were most luxuriant, and clearly required less attention and heat than in similar houses in the north. The horticultural knowledge acquired on the Riviera has in its turn been of use to me in England, and some of my readers, gardening on hot sandy soil, may be interested to know how this knowledge has been applied. My suburban retreat at Weybridge, in Surrey, is situated on the margin of a fir- covered, heather-clad forest. The flower garden is small, only extending over about a couple of acres of siliceous sand. The site was chosen as favourable to the health of man, for it is a well known fact that the worse a locality is for the cultivation of plants, the drier, the sandier it is, the better it is adapted for human health and 118 THE MVIERA AND MENTONE. human longevity. The converse is equally true. A deep, moist, rich soil, calculated to support rank fertility, such as is found in valleys, on the banks of rivers, is not one that the learned in medicine would choose for a convalescent hospital, such as the admirable institution on Walton Common, a mile or two from me. I became the owner of this sandy elysium many years ago. I had previously been absolutely a townsman, my life having been entirely passed in two great cities, Paris and London. What I knew of botany and horticulture was merely what townsmen get out of botanical gardens, herbaria, and occasional holiday glimpses of the country, their " Arcadia/" I entrusted the laying out of my bit of common to a " skilful" landscape gardener, recommended by a friend, and myself remained passive, mindful of the proverb " Ne sutor" The future garden, formed of siliceous sand, containing a very scanty allowance of vegetable soil, rested on an iron pan a few inches from the surface, some three inches thick, and as hard as the foot pavement in Pall Mall. It was sparsely covered with Heather, Gorse, and Broom. All this was removed, and the ground " picturesquely" laid out by carting the soil from the centre, and forming irre- gular sloping beds all round, in front of the drawing-room windows, and at the angles. I paid for deep trenching of the entire surface, and for the destruction of the iron pan, but I was not there to superintend the works, and it was only partially done, as I learnt to my sorrow many years afterwards. Then on these beds of sand, raised on the unbroken iron pan, were planted above 70£ worth of Conifers, evergreens, and shrubs, the garden, it must be recollected, not being more than a couple of acres. The battle for life, initiated under such conditions, was attended with the result that might have been anticipated in a sunny, hot, dry situation, and in a sandy soil. At the end of two years but few of the rarer shrubs were left. Rhododendrons, Portugal Laurels, Hemlock Spruces, Spruce Firs, Taxodium sempervirens, Hollies, a few Deodars, and Abies Douglasii, with Laburnum, Ash, and Birch, were pretty nearly all that remained, and they were anything FLO WEES AND HORTICULTURE. 119 but vigorous in growth and size. Then followed years of imperfect garden development. My gardening experience has thus been gained on two different soils, the one calcareous, the other siliceous, both presenting very little vegetable soil. It has led me, in all humility, to question a doctrine recently broached by one of our great botanical authorities — viz., the adaptability of all plants to all soils. In the battle of life those having natural affinities to particular soils seem to me to gain the day. Of course in rich alluvial soils, mere leaf-mould, all plants thrive. But a large portion of the earth's surface is covered with lime or sand, and not with deep alluvial soil. During these years, had it not been for what was done under glass, I should have derived but little pleasure from the garden. However, thanks to the knowledge recently acquired in the south, which thoroughly applies to a dry., sunburnt English garden, an era of improvement has begun. On digging down to the roots of the trees and of the shrubs, to see why they did not thrive as they ought to have done, I found everywhere at different depths the iron pan I fondly imagined totally destroyed. This was broken up, removed wherever it could be got at, and replaced by the best soil obtainable in the neighbourhood. I also levelled most of the raised beds. In reality, it is perfectly ridiculous to make raised sloping beds in a dry sandy, sun- burnt soil. Nearly all the rain falls off in summer as from a glazed surface, or from the roof of a house. It is still worse to raise such sand beds when they lie on an unbroken iron pan. The only plants that had penetrated this iron pan were young oaks, and this fact is a good illustration of the immense strength and power of the tap-root thrown out by the acorn. Where the beds were not levelled split lengths of Firs about a foot in diameter were imbedded some four inches at the margin of the raised beds, and filled in with good loam, thus arresting the rain, and preventing it running off the border. Plants thrive wonderfully behind these split Firs, which give a picturesque finish to the beds, with flowering plants, such as Petunias, Verbenas, trailing over. 120 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. A hungry, meagre soil, such as I describe, which unas- sisted grows annuals only a few inches high, being really incapable alone of doing justice to gardening efforts, a great quantity of good loam and manure was mixed with it. Then, instead of depending chiefly on annuals, which in dry seasons in such soils are soon burnt up and perish, a large stock of the plants that I find do the best in the dry climate of the Riviera is prepared and planted every- where : Sweet Alyssum, Pelargoniums, Petunias, and Mar- guerites. They are planted out and never watered after the first week or two, even during long periods of drought; yet, as anticipated, they do not flag in the least, and soon became one blaze of bloom. Centaurea candidissima and gymnocarpa also do very well with little or no watering. A margin of Alyssum or Centaurea, with a thickly-planted border of Petunias or Geraniums, and later in the season a background of Dahlias, look remarkably well. Geraniums do not grow much in size in such dry soils, but they flower freely in the hottest and driest weather. Amongst foliage plants I find Iresine Herbstii a failure during drought without water, but it pushes up with the autumn rains, and looks very handsome. On the other hand, Amaranthus ruber does very well during long continued drought, as does the Perilla. Well manured, the soil suits admirably Gladioli. I, find also that, imitating the south, much more orna- mental use may be made of Aloes, Cactaceae, such as Eche- veriaSj and of hardy Palms, both for garden and house decora- tion, than is usual. They require but little heat protection in winter, and do well in summer anywhere — indoors or out. Palms require a deal of water when growing in warm weather, but Aloes and Cactacese demand so little that they really give no trouble at all. The Aloes too reproduce themselves very freely by offshoots. Subtropical Palms in reality are very hardy plants. I have some healthy, vigorous Palms, Latania Borbonica and Corypha Australis, received four years ago from Algiers, six inches high with four leaves formed. They are now three feet high with twelve leaves. They are plunged in the garden every year from June 10th to September 10th FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 121 without any protection. The remainder of the year, nine months, they live in a disused coach-house through which I have passed the flue of a stove, and in the doors of which I have put glass. This is also the winter residence of the Aloes and Echeverias, of the Orange and Lemon trees. I am unfortunate in my gardens as regards Roses, still the queen of flowers ; for neither sandy nor calcareous soils are suited to their constitution. I would except the Banksia, which flourishes in the Mentone lime soil. I have, therefore, in both gardens to rely on soils artificially prepared with loam and manure. In conclusion, I may say, that the horticultural facts contained in this chapter corroborate the researches made on the shores and islands of the Mediterranean, and prove conclusively that protection from north winds has an extreme influence on climate and vegetation, an influence which it requires many degrees of latitude to compensate. This fact applies to England as well as to the south of Europe. In building our houses and making our gardens, we do not think enough of protection from the north. With its assistance our climate may be rendered much less trying both to the human and to the vegetable consti- tution, as is proved by Hastings, Yentnor, and Torquay, the*chief merit of which is protection from the north. CHAPTEE V. THE MEDITERRANEAN. HISTORY NAVIGATION— TIDES — DEPTH — SOUNDING — STORMS — TEMPE- RATURE PISH — A NATURALIST'S PRESERVE— BLUE COLOUR — THE ST. LOUIS ROCKS. B?} b'&xeav ([xr]) irapa 6lva Tro\v(f)\oio€oio BaXdcrcrrjs. Homer's Iliad. " There shrinks no ebb in that tideless sea, "Which changeless rolls eternally; So that wildest of waves, in their angriest mood, Scarce break on the bounds of the land for a rood ; And the powerless moon beholds them flow, Heedless if she come or go. Calm on high, in main or bay, On their course she hath no sway. The rock unworn its base doth bare, And looks o'er the surf, but it comes not there ; And the fringe of the foam may be seen below. On the line that it left long ages ago ; A smooth short space of yellow sand Between it and the greener land." Byron's Siege of Gorintli. The ordinary notion of the Mediterranean is that of a blue and tranquil ocean lake. At Mentone, during the winter, this poetical view of the great inland sea is often strangely falsified. Sometimes, for weeks together, it is constantly angry, quite realizing the experience of " pious iEneas" in days gone by. For it then is indeed "troubled and perfidious/'' ever breaking in angry billows on the shingly beach. To those who are familiarized with the ever varying moods of our old ocean, ever advancing, ever retreating, this seething, all but tideless sea, which day and night beats the shore with impotent rage, never advancing, never re- THE MEDITERRANEAN. 123 treating, is at first tedious in the extreme. Gradually, however, the eye, the ear, the mind, become accustomed to its monotonous anger, and open to its real magnificence. Then at last we feel that it is a glorious privilege to live, as we do at Mentone, in front of the apparently boundless liquid Mediterranean plain — at one time heaving restlessly, at another, in a calmer mood, covered with myriads of facets on which the sparkling sunshine dances and glitters. The daily rising of the sun, also, in the east, out of the waters, colouring the skies and the waves with hues which surpass those of the rainbow, is a magnificent sight^ that never palls. To a reflective mind, the Mediterranean is the most in- teresting of all seas, of all waters. Its shores are hallowed by association with the entire history of human civilization. It may be said to have been the cradle of the human race and intellect. When the rest of the world was a blank, a mystery, every region of its circumference was known and inhabited by the nations whom we may consider the fathers of history. The Jews, the Phoenicians, the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Carthaginians, the Romans, all lived on its shores, navigated its waters, and developed their life as nations within sight of it. In early, half-fabulous days, it carried the fair Helen from her Grecian home to Troy, and then brought her ill-used husband, and the kings and chieftains of Greece, to the walls of her doomed asylum. Later, it witnessed the rise and progress of Christianity, was the scene of the voyages, the shipwrecks, and the trials of the apostles. It carried the crusaders on its bosom to fight for the Cross, and bore back the remnant of their marvellous armaments to their northern homes. In modern times, too, the Mediterranean has been the road to the East, the battle-field of the world, the connecting link between Europe, Asia, and Africa. We have authentic records of the climate and meteor- ology of the Mediterranean in the writings of the ancient Greeks and Romans, such as Pausanias and Vitruvius, ex- tending to above two thousand years. Both climate and meteorology appear to have been then what they are now, and the Mediterranean was navigated, by those who in- 124 THE MEDITERRANEAN. habited its coasts, pretty much as it is navigated in our own days, in a cautious land and shelter-loving manner. Then, as now, the winter was a stormy time, and the danger of navigating with sails a sea in which there is so much uncertainty as to the direction of the wind, and such frequent collisions between north and south, was so im- pressed on the minds of mariners, that all long vo} r ages were abandoned. Merchant vessels were pulled on shore, and remained " in port," free from the dangers of the deep, from the beginning of October until the beginning of April. Marine insurances were known at Athens even in those times; but navigation in the six forbidden months was considered so dangerous that no insurances were taken, and the interval was specially set apart for deciding litigation in maritime cases, as a time when all the parties concerned were sure to be at home. Mariners in those days hugged the shore, and at the slightest unfavourable change ran into the nearest port, or took shelter under the nearest headland ; and this, not- withstanding all the modern improvements in navigation, they do even now. With a slight breeze, the sea, near the land, is studded with vessels, their white lateen sails ex- tended, like swallows skimming over the waters of the deep ; but if a stiff wind and a heavy sea rise, they in- stantly seek shelter, and disappear. Then, for days to- gether, not a sail is seen, merely a stray steamer nearing the land for shelter in north winds, until fine weather returning, again lures them out of their retreats. The vessels now employed in the coasting trade are probably much the same, in size and form, as those used by the old Greeks. They are, generally speaking, from about twenty to fifty tons burden, seldom larger. This is no doubt owing to the circumstance that most of the smaller ports are ineffectually protected from the wind and the sea, so that they have to be pulled up on the beach for safety. This is done by means of windlasses, and with the assistance of the entire maritime population. They are thus unloaded and loaded on dry land, when they are again dragged and pushed down the beach into the sea, by main force. NAVIGATION— TIDES. 125 In the small ports all along the Riviera scores of these small vessels may be seen, high and dry on the beach, waiting for cargo or fair weather. There is a jetty now building at Mentone which already gives some shelter, but up to quite recently all the vessels that came and departed were thus hauled ashore. So it was that the Greeks pulled up their vessels on the shores of Troy, after landing, and it was when thus drawn up that they were fired and destroyed by their leader. Although poetically called tideless, the expanse of water that forms the Mediterranean obeys the same laws as the great ocean. Like the ocean, it feels the vicinity of our cold satellite the moon, and rises and falls, at stated hours, under its influence. The body of water, however, is so much smaller than that of the ocean, notwithstanding the great depth of the Mediterranean, that the moon's attrac- tion produces a comparatively trifling effect. The height of the tidal wave varies considerably in dif- ferent regions of this great inland sea, ranging from a few lines to a foot or more. On one occasion, when at Naples, at an hotel near the shore, an invalid, I used to amuse myself by watching the sea, as it broke against the sea- wall beneath the windows. During a calm, which lasted more than a week, I observed that a rock crowned with sea- weed, immediately in front, was daily covered and un- covered by an evident tide. Whenever the wind blows on or off the shore, it raises or lowers the sea-level, all over the Mediterranean, several feet. This makes it all the mere difficult to recognise the existence of the tidal wave. At Mentone, when the wind has been blowing several days from the south-east or south- west, the sea reaches nearly to the road in the eastern bay. When, on the contrary, it has been blowing several days from shore, not only the shingle, but a line of sandy beach is often uncovered. The style of navigation adopted by the Mediterranean sailors, may and does render them expert boatmen, but it is said, also, to make them less fit for lengthened naviga- tion than their more adventurous northern brethren. The navigation of an inland sea cannot, certainly, rear such a 126 THE MEDITERRANEAN. race of hardy sailors as is produced by the navigation of the wide Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, and by the pursuit of the great fisheries, amidst the storms and icebergs of the Northern seas. No wonder the sailors of Columbus, ac- customed to never lose sight of land for more than a few days, should have trembled when they had been weeks out at sea, and should have feared they were sailing into an unfathomable abyss, from which there was no return. When the sea is breaking furiously on the beach, as it often does in winter, there is but little marine life visible. The sea-level being ever the same, owing to the absence of per- ceptible tides, there are no exploring walks on the sands at low tide, as on our coasts, no searching after zoophytes and fuci. On calm days, however, a walk to the extreme end of the Cap Martin introduces the amateur naturalist to pools lying between jagged rocks, where there is much to be observed. There are also other points along the eastern coast where similar pools may be found, containing various kinds of sea-weed, sea anemones, hermit crabs, inhabiting pretty shells which they have dragged from deeper water, and other marine treasures ; only to be discovered, how- ever, on days of perfect calm. The Mediterranean is a deep sea, and its depth is very great on this coast near the shore. According to Lyell, Saussure found a depth of two thousand feet a few yards from the land at Nice, and from Toulon to Genoa the sea is everywhere very deep near the shore. This is always the case in the Mediterranean, and elsewhere, whenever mountains terminate abruptly in or near the sea, as along the Riviera. The abysses of the sea are probably at least as deep as the mountains in their vicinity are high ; and as at Mentone the higher mountain range reaches the sea line, there are no doubt alpine valleys many thousand feet deep within a very short distance of the shore — a grand idea ! Thus is explained the absence of deltas at the mouths of the large torrents which descend from the mountains, and fall into the sea in the Mentonian amphitheatre. For countless ages these torrents have been rolling, during the winter rains, masses of soil and boulders into the sea, and yet DEPTH — SOUNDING. 127 no impression lias been produced on the outline of the bays, which remain perfect. No doubt these boulders, which form the shingly beach, soon fall into these all but unfathomable depths, just as stones rolled down a house-top would fall into the space below. The same remark applies, in part, to the Paillon at Nice. Thus, at the bottom of these marine valleys are now forming", no doubt, beds of clay and sand, and perhaps of conglomerate, similar in character to the one on which the village of Roccabruna is perched. The Mediterranean may truly be considered a deep sea, for, in a great portion of its extent, its depth varies from five to ten thousand feet, or between one and two miles— a fact which has been ascertained in laying the telegraph cables, which cross it in various directions. Yet, even this depth is trifling, compared with that of the Atlantic, be- tween Europe and Africa, and America. A depth of 3150 fathoms, or 18,900 feet, has been reached [Challenger, 1873), and it is presumed that the depth may extend to thirty thousand feet, nearly six miles. Formerly deep sea sounding was effected by means of a lead or weight fastened to a line, and thrown out from the ship. By this plan, however, it was found difficult, if not impossible, to reach a depth much above six hundred fathoms, or between three and four thousand feet. If the lead was heavy, it could not be hauled back, and the line broke ; if it was light, it was floated away by currents. The impossibility of hauling in a heavy weight, once it has- reached deep water, will be easily understood, when it is known that at a depth of fourteen thousand four hundred feet the pressure of the water is as three tons on every square inch of surface. To this must be added the weight of the whole line used for deep-sea soundings, which would itself, at that depth, amount to one ton. The difficulty has, however, been overcome by the application of steam power, which is now used in sounding and dredging at great depths. "Weights are used, so contrived, that on touching the bottom, they separate from the line, which can then be hauled up. Thanks to this contrivance, and to the use of steam, the greater part of the Mediterranean and of the 128 THE MEDITERRANEAN. Atlantic has been surveyed. The Atlantic has been found to be a deep valley, lying between Europe, Africa, and America, and dipping deeper below the sea-level than the highest mountain rises above the surface of the globe. It was supposed by the pioneer of deep-sea dredging, tire late Edward Forbes, that at about 600 fathoms* depth all life ceased, that below this level all was gloom and darkness, and that life existed not. The progress made since his death in deep-sea dredging has dispelled all such views, proving them to be altogether erroneous. Life is found everywhere, in the uttermost depths of the ocean, as on the highest mountains. Sir John Ross, in 1818, dredging in Baffin's Bay, brought up sea worms from 1000 fathoms, and from 800 fathoms, a Medusa, The latter was then thought to have been entangled in the line, but is now recognised to be a species inhabiting those deep waters. In 1861, Professor Fleming Jenkin, sent to repair a ruptured telegraph cable between Sardinia and Bona, brought up a fragment of cable from 1200 fathoms, with a true coral, a Caryophillia, attached to it. Later, Dr. William Carpenter and Dr. Wyville Thomson, in the sur- veying ships, Lightning ■, 1868 ; Porcupine, 1869 — 70; and Challenger, 1873 — 4, have found life in the Atlantic at, all but the deepest depths reached, 2850 fathoms or 17,000 feet. At these immense depths it is doubtful if light penetrates, and the source from which the living orga- nisms find the elements of nutrition they require is still a mystery, a debated point. Although the Mediterranean is only separated from the Atlantic by the peninsula of Spain, the elevated and mountainous character of that country, and the other conditions I have elsewhere enumerated, prevent a large proportion of the storms that occur in the western Atlantic reaching it. Thus M. Matteuci has recently published a paper in which he shows that out of 118 storms coming from the Atlantic and striking England and Ireland, 49 only reached Italy. In October, November, and December the progress of these storms to Italy is much more frequent than at other periods; while in winter, and still more in summer, a great diminution occurs. In the three STORMS — TEMPERATURE. 1 2 9 months named, out of 29 storms 23 reached Italy; in April, May, June, July, and August, out of 41 only 3 arrived at Italy. These facts substantiate my own observations as to the frequency of south-westerly storms in autumn, and explain the usual fine weather in this inland sea in summer. The Mediterranean is a warm sea. At all times of the year it is five or six degrees warmer than the Atlantic Ocean under the same latitude ; and in winter it is never cooled down to the same extent as the latter in northern and even temperate regions. In the open oceans there are, deep below the surface, cold currents from the north and south pole, which have been revealed by the deep-sea soundings of Lieut. Maury and others. Thus, in the Atlantic Ocean, — at the bottom of the Gulf Stream, a tem- perature of only 35°Fah. has been found, whilst the surface is above 80°. The Mediterranean, a land-enclosed sea, is not accessible to these polar currents, which is one of the causes no doubt of its exceptional .warmth. Even in winter, I have never found it lower than 54° on the Mentone coast six or ten feet below the surface. Dr. Carpenter states that if we go deep enough in the ocean we shall always find the temperature as low as 32°; but in enclosed seas, such as the Mediterranean, the deeper and colder water, circulating from the poles, cannot enter; therefore the lowest bottom temperature is determined by the lowest winter temperature of the surface. Scarcity of life in the Mediterranean he considers to be owing to a deficiency of oxygen in the water, due to its combining with a large quantity of organic matter brought down by the rivers and emptying into it. Thus, while in the Atlantic we usually find 20 per cent, of oxygen and 40 per cent, of carbonic acid, in the bottom waters of the Mediterranean there is often only 5 per cent, of oxygen and over 65 per cent, of carbonic acid. He considers the Red Sea and its neighbourhood the hottest region on the earth, the tem- perature of the surface water rising to 85° or 90°, and the bottom temperature being about 71°, corresponding to the greatest winter cold. Outside of this sea, however, in the Arabian Gulf, the bottom temperature is 33°. As the lowest bottom temperature of the Red Sea is as high as 71°. living K 130 THE MEDITERRANEAN. corals should occur there at greater depths than anywhere else in the world. There seems to have been little if any change in the tem- perature of the Mediterranean and of its shores within the memory of man. The same vegetation exists and flourishes around it that existed and flourished when the earliest records were penned, those of Sacred Writ and of Homer. The geological features do not either appear to have changed within that period, except as regards slight elevations and depressions of some coasts. Thus, the climate has pro- bably been the same during the historic period. It has been characterized in former historic days, as now, by sunshine, by little rain, and by an atmosphere which does not contain one-half of the moisture of the English atmosphere. Indeed, its climate has no doubt been what it is now ever since the continents of Asia, Africa, and Europe have assumed their present shape, ever since the existence of the rainless tract of which the deserts of Sahara, of Arabia, and of Cobi are the expression. Owing to the paucity of rain and to the small number of large rivers that empty into the Mediterranean, the suppl}' of fresh water to that sea is much below- the amount taken up by evaporation. To meet this deficiency a wide stream or current of sea-water, many hundred feet deep, sets in through the Straits of Gibraltar from the Atlantic, at a rate of from three to six miles an hour. This inward current was formerly supposed to be owing to a difference of level ; the Mediterranean, in this hypothesis, being lower than the Atlantic. The researches of Admiral Smyth, and of other observers, have proved this view to be fallacious. The Atlantic, the Mediterranean, the Black Sea, the Adriatic, and even the Red Sea, have all the same level. Admiral Smyth and Sir Charles Lyell doubt the ex- istence of a deep counter-current from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic through the Straits of Gibraltar. Lieut. Maury, on the contrary, considers its existence proved by reasoning as well as by observation. Were such a counter- current not to exist, he says, the waters of the Mediter- ranean would not only be slightly salter than those of the Atlantic, as they actually are, but would become very much CURRENTS — FISH. 131 Salter, like those of the Dead Sea. which has no outlet, and would deposit salt at the bottjm from over-saturation. This is not the case, which proves, he thinks, that there must be a deep counter and outer current of water, of a denser gravity — from increased saturation with salt — than the upper and inward Atlantic current. Sir Charles Lyell admits the presence of an under current at times in the Straits, but thinks that more recent observations show it to be merely tidal. The exceptional warmth of the Mediterranean exercises, as we have seen, an influence on the climate, which it modifies favourably. It also exercises a remarkable in- fluence on the finny tribes that inhabit it. As Lieut. Maury states, the cold oceans and seas are those in which fish, whatever the cause, especially good edible fish, thrive the most, and are the most prolific. The cod, the mackerel, the herring, the sole, the salmon, all belong to northern latitudes. Fish are abundant and good on the north coast of America, east and west, and on the north coast of Europe. The shoals of herrings, mackerel, pilchards, cod, that visit our seas every year, all come from the north, and return to it. Between the Gulf Stream, as it ascends the Atlantic from the Gulf of Florida, and the coast of the United States, there is a band or wedge of water, descending from the north, which is many degrees colder than the ascending waters of the Gulf Stream itself. This band of cold water is full of good edible fish, whereas the warmer waters of the Gulf Stream contain compara- tively few fish, and those not good. In the tropics, and in warmer seas also, the fish are neither so good nor so nume- rous, although more brilliant and fantastic in colour and shape. The Mediterranean is no exception to this rule, as I can testify from considerable experience. The fish it contains are, in general, neither good nor abundant, which accounts for the Roman Catholic inhabitants of its shores consuming so large a quantity of the product of the herring and cod fisheries of Northern Europe. At Mentone the great depth of the sea at a short dis- tance from the shore is no doubt an additional drawback, as verv deep waters are neither favourable to the breeding of K '2 132 THE MEDITERRANEAN. fish, nor are they good fishing-grounds. Our Lest fishing- grounds are all shoal sandbanks, as, for instance, the Dogger Bank, and that of Newfoundland. On a fine day, when the sea is calm, the Mentone fisher- men are on the alert betimes, and the bay is studded with boats. A very close-meshed bag net is thrown out and buoyed, and then dragged in shore by long ropes, with great excitement on the part of those engaged. There are often ten or twelve men, women, and children to each net. When at last, however, it is drawn in, and its contents are scattered on the beach, these efforts recall the fable of the mountain in labour. There is seldom anything in the bag but a few pounds' weight of a small transparent whitebait kind offish, a few sardines and small red mullets, some dimi- nutive sword-fish, and two or three crabs the size of a five- shilling piece, that have not been able to get out of the way. When the nets are drawn, and their living contents are strewn on the shore, the young, and I may say not un- frequently the old, are seized with an ardent desire to save some of the struggling inmates of the deep, or in other words, to establish an aquarium. Basins, tubs, all kinds of utensils are enlisted in their behalf, but I am sorry to add with but very little success. The small flat fish, sardines, sword-fish, the shrimps, after darting about furiously for some hours, vainly endeavouring to escape from their prison, turn on their side and die. They really appear to die from nervous exhaustion, for it cannot be for want of aerated, water, as the same result is observed when either a large or small vessel is used. I find that Mr. Philip Gosse, the charming naturalist, also takes this view of the early death of marine animals thus suddenly confined. He strikingly remarks, " It is as if a man, shut up beneath the dome of St. PauFs, should be found dead by daylight for want of air to breathe. Are the gills of an anneloid or a mollusc more exacting than the lungs of a man ?" The small-meshed nets must be very destructive to young fish, and as they are everywhere used on the Mediterranean coast, they must tend to render its waters even more un- productive than Nature intended. The fishermen on these shores maintain, as did our own fishermen with reference FISH — WHITEBAIT. 133 to whitebait, that the small transparent fish they catch in such numbers are a separate species that never grow any larger, and which it is, consequently, legitimate to destroy for food. To settle this question, I brought some home, preserved in spirits of wine, and submitted them to the well-known ichthyologist, Dr. A. Gtinther, of the British Museum. After careful examination, Dr. Giinther wrote me as follows : — " There can be no doubt that the specimens you have submitted to me for examination are the young fry of some species of Cltqjea, and from the position of the vertebral fins, and the number of vertebrae, I believe them to be the young of Clupea Sprattus, or a species closely allied to it." Dr. Giinther has satisfactorily established that our whitebait are the young fry of the herring, so that both on our shores and on the Mediterranean the wholesale destruc- tion of these small fish is equally unjustifiable. The French Government, which has paid great attention, during the last few years, to pisciculture, to the replenish- ment both of its salt and fresh waters with fish, has become alive to this fact. A commission has recently been ap- pointed to inquire into the condition of the fisheries on the northern shore of the Mediterranean, with a view to their improvement ; and the probable result of its labours will be a prohibition of the use of these small-meshed nets — a very necessary step. They unquestionably tend to destroy the fisheries wherever used, by annihilating the small fry on the shallows. Unless some such measure is adopted, fish must all but disappear from this part of the Mediterranean shores, stimulated as their destruction is by the presence of wealthy fish-eating strangers. A few years ago the small fry, like whitebait, were sold at Mentone for four sous (twopence) a pound; the larger for eight sous. Now the small fetch twenty, and the larger thirty. Wherever I have been, in "Corsica, in Italy, in Sicily, I have always found the local fishermen, and many better informed persons, pertinaciously maintain that these small fish are not the spawn of larger fish, but a peculiar species that always remains small, and that were these nets not allowed a valuable kind of food would be lost to all classes of society. We have seen that such is not the case, and it 134 THE MEDITERRANEAN. is to be hoped that their destruction will be legally pre- vented. The gentle art is cultivated at Mentone by many zealous native piscatorians, who may be seen day alter day fishing from the parapet of the quay at the entrance of the town, from rocks lying in the sea, or from the shore. Some of the visitors also, inspired by their example, occasionally enter the lists. Their patience and skill, however, meet with but a poor reward, as might be anticipated from what has been stated. Their principal recompense appears to be the lazy enjoyment of the harmonies of nature so dear to all who love "the contemplative man's recreation." The melody of the waves breaking at our feet, the surging of the blue waters over the seaweed covering the submarine rocks, the varied hues that the fuci assume, as they are alternately expanded, buoyed up by the coming wave, and then left high and dry as it retreats, the effects of the ever- varying cloud, shadow, and sunlight on the sea, the rocks, the mountains, and the horizon, are never better observed, or more thoroughly appreciated, than by the unsuccessful angler. Very little piscatorial success satisfies the true lover of nature, and such nearly all enthusiastic pisca- torians are. This love of nature is, I believe, the key to their oft-abused pastime. In the. educated it is felt and analjsed, in the uneducated it exists as an instinct, a sensation, but is not analysed. Cuttle-fish are abundant in these waters, and are eaten by the inhabitants as a delicacy. They are occasionally found of enormous size. I have seen a monster, at least six feet in length, with villanous-looking tentacula several feet long. Such antagonists would be very formidable even to a strong swimmer, if they attacked him. They could easily surround him with their suckers, and perhaps pull him under water; but I have not heard of any such accident. Monstrous cuttle-fish, with shells twelve feet in circumference, characterized the warm seas of the chalk period and of the epoch in which the nummulites of the St. Louis rocks existed, Even now, in tropical seas, there are cuttle-fish of enormous size. Well authenticated tales are told of tentacula as thick as a man's arm, thrown by CTTTTLE-FISH — DEVIL-FISH. 135 cuttle-fish like those of yore over the sides of a boat in these regions, and dragging seamen overboard, or upsetting large boats. These " strange fish" have long ago died out in the Mediterranean, but probably those I have seen are their lineal but degenerate descendants. The small and beautiful nautilus is still alive, although it, too, lived in these remote days along with its awful companion. The fishing for cuttle-fish is one of the features of these shores. The boat is rowed gently along the shallow parts of the bay, where the rocks are covered with seaweed. In the prow sits the fisherman, holding a long stick, to which is tied a piece of meat as bait, partially covered with a few green twigs. This perch is poked among the seaweed, under the rocks and stones, in likely places. If the cuttle- fish is there he makes a clutch at the bait, and clings to it with such extreme tenacity that he is easily hauled into the boat. At night fishing is often carried on by means of a fire lighted in a kind of metal basket suspended over the prow of the boat. The fisherman uses a two or three pronged lance. He leans over the side of the boat and ex- plores the bottom of the sea, by the glare of the fire, as the boat glides gently along. If a fish is seen many feet under the water the trident is thrown with all but unerring accuracy, and the fish is brought up wriggling on its teeth. This night-fishing has a picturesque effect as seen from the shore. It is also practised on the Italian lakes. There is an interesting fact connected with the Medi- terranean that is but little known, even by the scientific world. This sea is the favourite habitation, the home, of one of the largest and most singular fish that inhabit the wilderness of waters, the devil-fish. The devil-fish is a species of monstrous hideous ray or flounder, fiat, broad, of enormous dimensions, and of extraordinary muscular power, with a huge mouth and stomach, all one, in the front of its misshapen head. It inhabits the tropical seas, the broad Atlantic, as well as the Mediterranean, and is everywhere an object of curiosity and awe, when seen or caught, which it very rarely is. The African traveller, Le Vaillant, caught one twenty-five feet long in the body, and thirty- feet wide in the tins, on one of his journeys to Africa, 136 THE MEDITERRANEAN. Other travellers have seen them floundering on the surface of the sea, apparently as large as the vessel they were in. Two were caught at Villefranche, near Nice, in 1807, in one of the tunny nets, and have been minutely described by Risso, the learned Nice naturalist, under the name of " Cephaloptera Massena." The one first caught, a female, weighed 1328 pounds ; it moaned piteously. The male was seen for two days to hover round the nets where she w T as taken, searching for its mate, and then was taken in the same net ! The poor loving devil-fish were thus united in death. The male was smaller, weighing 885 pounds only. THE DEVIL-MSH. The Mediterranean fishermen are acquainted with the devil-fish traditionally, calling it vacca. They believe that its appearance is an omen, and portends disaster. A small species is not uncommon in the West Indies, and is some- times pursued, but rarely taken, in Kingston harbour, Jamaica, according to the Hon. R. Hill, who has published a very interesting account of this curious fish {Intellectual Observer, October, 1862). The drawing given is copied from this article. When one of these fish is observed floating on the water, the mode of attack is to harpoon it. The monster immediately strikes out for the sea, with amazing velocity and power, towing its enemy along with it. Other boats attach themselves to the first, and they are all towed out, generally for several miles, before it again rises Indeed, they are frequently obliged to abandon the chase altogether. Often, when, steeped in the southern winter sunshine, I lie in my favourite leisure haunts, among the St. Louis rocks, gazing at the Mediterranean, in one of its calm, THE TUNNY. 137 placid moments, I think of these monsters and repeat to myself the harmonious verses of Mrs. Hemans : " What hidest thou in thy treasure-caves and cells, Thou ever- sounding and mysterious sea." Perhaps at that very moment some of these monstrous antediluvian fish are disporting themselves in the deep waters at my feet ; for it is not in the very deepest regions that even the largest fish can and do live. In the great depths of the sea, so marvellously reached of late, there is little if any light, and only the most rudimentary kind of life. The sound often brings up microscopic shells un- damaged in their delicate structure by friction. Tney have fallen there through the water, and there they remain motionless. The dead sailor, who is thrown over the side of the vessel, with a cannon-shot attached to his feet, descends to these depths, there probably to remain, standing erect, preserved by the pressure of the water, until the Day of Judgment. As spring advances some of the fish, which then descend in such enormous shoals from the Northern seas into the Atlantic, find their way into the Mediterranean, through the Straits of Gibraltar, and are very welcome. Thus, very large mackerel and whiting are caught in great numbers, and a large and much valued fish, the tunny, makes its appearance. " The tunny or tliynnus is a fish which belongs to the genus mackerel, scomber, which it resembles in form. It grows to more than seven feet in length, and often weighs as much as four hundred weight. - " After passing the Straits in dense masses, the tunny skirts the coasts of Spain, France, and Italy, to spawn in the Black Sea. It visits the smallest bays and coves, which renders its capture feasible — indeed, easy. Large and strong nets are fastened by cables and anchors, at the entrance of the bay where they are expected, and a sentinel is posted on some eminence to watch for their advent. When they are seen approaching along the coast, the fishermen get ready, and us soou as the fish have 138 THE MEDITERRANEAN. entered, they close the nets around or behind them, The poor fish are then slaughtered with lance and knife, the sea being reddened with their blood. As we have stated, their flesh, although not very delicate, is still much appre- ciated by southerners. The tunny reach Mentone in early spring, and about the middle of April may be seen in the eastern bay, off Cnp Martin, the preparations being made for their advent. These preparations are on rather a small scale, and consist merely of three or four boats, a long net in the water, and the look-out, perched on a kind of platform raised some thirty feet high on the shore. In some parts of the coast of Italy, Sardinia, and Sicily large nets, called madrigues, half a mile or a mile long, are used in fishing for the tunny. These nets, which are divided into chambers by cross nets, are sunk in deep water, at some distance from the shore. The tunnies, which follow the coast in a shoal, pass between it and the net, and on reaching the extremity of the latter are arrested in their progress by a cross net. They then turn, and are driven into the chambers of the large net by the fishermen, where tiiey are destroyed, as described, by hundreds, in favourable years. The sport is stated to be very exciting ; but, un- fortunately, it takes place in the month of May or early in June, when health tourists have already taken flight to the north. The tunny is not only allied to the mackerel, but also to the bonito, a beautiful tropical fish of a lovely blue colour. The bonito, although a tropical fish, is represented in the Mediterranean by a distinct and equally beautiful species, the Pelami/s Sarda, the length of which is from twenty to thirty inches. Whales not unfrequently pass into the Mediterranean through the Straits of Gibraltar, for a stately promenade or '•'swim/ - ' On one of my excursions to Corsica we met one when out of sight of land. The steamer passed very near him, and he indulged us with, a splendid spout. The French sailors called the whale " un souffleur" (a blower), and he well deserved the term. Porpoises are numerous, and as amusing in their gambols, A naturalist's preserve. 139 leaps, and unwieldy gyrations, as in the northern seas. They constantly come in shore. On one occasion we met with a shoal out at sea, evidently on frolic intent ; they were apparently pursuing each other, like boys at leap-frog-. Regardless of our presence, they kept springing out of the water, with a kind of flying leap. Sometimes half-a-dozen would be in the air at a time, all in a line. They passed our bows, and then were soon out of sight, as our courses diverged. If, on a calm fine day, a height of some hundred feet or more is attained above the shore, and the surface of the sea is carefully examined, it will be seen to present ribbons, as it were, of water of different colours, lighter and darker. These ribbons describe all kinds of irregular liquid paths and sinuosities in the bay, and for a mile or two from the shore. They are varying marine currents, the cause of which it is difficult to determine. Inequalities of surface at the bottom, differences of temperature, winds, all, no doubt, contribute to produce them. They illustrate on the surface of a calm sea the deeper and more powerful currents which play so important a part in the history of the great oceans. These currents are the preserve, the delight of the marine naturalist, a fact but little known. I was introduced to them by Professor Pagenstecher, of Heidelberg, a well- known and enthusiastic naturalist, who came to Mentone two springs purposely to study its marine zoology. It seems that the currents draw into their course all the vegetable or animal detritus floating at the surface of the sea where they pass. The presence of these te elements of nutrition" attracts animalculae and the smaller inhabitants of the deep. They, in turn, attract the larger molluscs, and thus these currents become a kind of naturalists' cover, where the inhabitants of marine depths inaccessible to dredging are found in abundance. The best time for this kind of fishing is early in the morning, at sunrise. The boat should start from the shore just as the sun appears on the eastern horizon, so that the current or fishing ground, previously determined on, is gained as the sun's rays illuminate the depths of the sea — 140 THE MEDITERRANEAN. " And now the purple clouds Rise like a mountain ; now the sari looks out, Filling, o'erflowing with his glorious light The noble amphitheatre of hills." — Rogers. All animated nature becomes endued with fresh life, an universal desire for food is felt, and the briny paths are soon crowded with voracious customers. The fishing is carried on by means of two nets, like butterfly nets, only larger, fastened to stout sticks. One is of good size and stout texture, the other smaller, and of more delicate material. They are held out, four-fifths immersed in the water, from the side of the boat, the concavity turned in the direction the boat is going, and of course catch everything in their way. There should also be several jars of sea-water in the boat, ready for use. Every now and then the smaller and more delicate net should be taken in, the water allowed to escape from the bag end, and then the bag itself turned inside out into one of the glass jars of sea-water. Although the eye may detect nothing on looking at the water from above, if the jar is lifted up and the observer looks c< through" it, he will generally see, by transmitted light, many very singular forms of marine life, which the net has caught disporting on the surface of the sea, but which are quite invisible to the eye from above. The same plan may be followed with the larger net, but it is more especially intended to catch the larger molluscs and zoophytes, which the eye distinctly perceives swimming or floating in the current. I thus became acquainted, thanks to the Professor, with many very singular and beautiful forms of life, and was highly delighted with this new mode of fishing. To him I owe the following notes of what we found : — In these currents will be found a great number of small crustaceans called Copepodes, of a white, orange, or red colour, which seem to rest on their antennse; JSaphirines, which, rising and falling, look like a precious stone or a drop of dew, and sparkle like a flower ; marvellous larva?, Asterias and Ursins, which, with the friskiness of youth, are taking an excursion in deep waters, whilst the father and mother are concealed amongst the rocks in quiet bays ; A NATURALISTS PRESERVE. 141 Radiolariae, gelatinous balls like chains of frog's eggs, punctuated with blue and yellow, and presenting micro- scopic --pikes of silex of most elegant shapes; small Ptero- podes, which, protected by a calcareous box, and supplied with two wings, swim about in the warm waters like flies and butterflies in the air. The glass jar into which the net is turned and washed is soon filled with these members of the microscopic world, and to a naturalist they give days of study, pleasure, and information. When the larger net is used a sharp eye must be cast on the waters near the boat, as it is only intended to catch the Molluscs and Zoophytes, which are perceived swimming or floating in the current. The observer will probably soon discover chains of Salpa, either the gigantic form, Salpa Africana maxima, with its nucleus of a Sienna brown colour, or the more delicate species named " democratica maxima/'' coloured in ultramarine. Sometimes more than a hundred individuals are united in a chain several feet long. This is a singular genus, in which the mother gives birth to one daughter very different from herself. This daughter, in her turn, produces hundreds of children united like the Siamese twins, but each like the grandmother. At first they are all united, and form chains and rings on the sur- face of the sea, but one after the other, as their turn to reproduce the race arrives, separate from the rest, and give up the dances and pastimes of youth for the more serious duties of life. Among the treasure trove will be jelly fishes, belonging to the family of Gorgonides, which even in the jar try to catch some small fry,' as likewise Ctenophores, esppcially the Beroe ovata, a real crystal cucumber, the Eucharis multicornis, which, rose or yellow tinged, seems as it passes under the bark to be merely a reflection of the full moon, and is not much more solid; the girdle of Venus, which, gliding serpent-like in the waves, is nearly invisible, although three feet in length. When seen, its edges present all the colours of the rainbow, owing to the vibration of ciliary hairs. If the day is a favourable one, the " fisherman" will probably secure a Siphonophora, a swimming polymor- 142 THE MEDITERRANEAN. phous colony, generally upheld by a small bladder full of air, provided with a column of bells wherewith to swim, and carrying below a crowd of polyps armed with urtieant filaments, opening their mouths on all sides like a poly- cephal Hydra; the Praga cymbiformis ; the Hippopodius luteus; the Abyla pentagona; the Diphyes acuminata; the Farkalsa cystrima, but for the latter will be required the largest jar, which one colony will fill to the brim ; the Phromima sedentaria, a crustacean which preserves its children carefully in a cradle of crystal taken from the very substance of some gelatinous animal ; the large Firoles, called by the Mediterranean fishermen ll olifante di mare ;" lastly, the Cymbulia Perosisi, which conceals its soft body in a slipper of crystal, a slipper that recalls the one Cinderella wore. It is one of the most elegant objects imaginable, and for its sake alone the ladies at home who are anxiously waiting the leturn of the " foolish fishermen," will pardon the disturbance created by the departure before break of day. Professor Pagenstecher was very successful, he told me, during the few weeks he spent with us, and returned to Heidelberg laden with numerous scientific treasures, and a very happy man. I may remark that I have never known an unhappy, misanthropical naturalist. As a class, I think they are truly the happiest and most contented of men. Constant communion with nature draws their thoughts from the cares, the anxieties, the heartaches, the passions of life, and thereby purifies and elevates their minds ; whilst every advance in knowledge, every discovery made, increases the admiration, the reverence felt for the Divine Author of all things, who has so marvellously organized everything for the best. All who sail on or live near the Mediterranean notice the peculiar blueness of its waters. This tinge would seem to imply that they contain more salt than the waters of the ocean. The more salt held in solution by water, the bluer it is ; the less salt, the greener it is. Hence the light green hue of the Polar seas, which contain much more fresh water than those of the tropics. The latter are gene- ITS BLUE COLOUR. 143 rally, from this cause, of a deep indigo, like the Mediter- ranean. The evaporation from the surface of the Medi- terranean abstracts a much greater quantity of water than its rivers supply. Hence the strong current that sets in from the ocean at Gibraltar, and also, no doubt, the blue tinge of its saliue waters. The correctness of the above views has been questioned. I would, however, refer those who doubt to the first three paragraphs of Lieutenant Maury's very valuable work on " The Physical Geography of the Sea." It is to this really fascinating book that I am indebted for the explanation I have given of the peculiar indigo blue colour of the Medi- terranean. It may be considered proved, he states, by facts derived from other regions of the world's waters, and by actual experiments. The Gulf Stream, which comes from the tropics, from the Gulf of Mexico, where the heat is extreme and evapo- ration very great, is of a deep blue colour, like the Medi- terranean. This colour is so different from that of the surrounding ocean that the line of demarcation is observed with ease, and in calm weather half of the ship may be seen in the Gulf Stream and half out. Analysed by Dr. Thomassy, by means of a delicate instrument, the salt has been found to be 4 per cent, in the blue Gulf Stream, opposite Charleston ; 4 T V per cent, in the blue trade-wind region ; whereas it was only 3| per cent, in the greener waters of the Bay of Biscay. Again, in the salt-works on the shores of the Adriatic and of France, the vats or pools into which the sea-water is received for evaporation exemplify the fact. After stauding some time in one pool, for the purpose of evaporation, the concentrated sea- water is passed into another, and so on. As it becomes more and more loaded with salt the colour gradually changes from light to deep blue, to indigo, and finally to a reddish tint when crystallization is about to commence. " The salt-makers judge of the richness of the sea-water in salt by its colour; the greener the hue the fresher the water.'" The colour of the waters of glacier streams, of the Swiss lakes, or of the Rhine at Bale, is quite a different hue to that of the Mediterranean. It is a kind of light bluish 144 THE MEDITERRANEAN. green, and is evidently owing to some other physical cause. In describing the natural features of the Mentonian amphitheatre, I must not omit to mention, that its olive and pine woods are alive with feathered songsters. The notes of some are very musical, and those of others re- produce sounds familiarly heard in the summer in our own pine forests in England. The same cannot be said of the small green tree-frogs that scramble about on the branches of the Olive-trees, or of their larger brothers that live in or near the tanks. In winter they are, fortunately, silent ; but as spring arrives, they commence every evening an endless chorus, which lasts until after daylight, much to the dismay and distress of those who live in their neigh- bourhood. They certainly more than compensate for the nightingale, which arrives, as with us, early in May, and warbles all night long in every tree. Many of the birds are winter emigrants from the north, like ourselves in search of a southern sun. Others in spring make a more or less extended sojourn on the North Mediterranean coast on their return from more southern regions. The olives and pine cones afford them abundant food. On the sea, near the shore, are constantly seen troops of sea-gulls, attracted by the household refuse which the inhabitants are rather too prone to cast over the sea-wall into the salt water. When wind and storm are looming on the horizon they are more especially numerous, some- times congregating in flocks of several hundred. They generally swim about on the waves near the shore, and look very picturesque when present in such numbers. Sea- gulls are interesting birds in more ways than one. When riding on the waters they have more than the usual grace and elegance of aquatic birds, and when soaring aloft, all but motionless, or describing eddying circles, the strength and smoothness of their flight, and their perfect self-pos- session, are pleasant to behold. Sea-gulls appear to soon become familiar with man in the pursuit of food, and a truly remarkable feature in their history is the pertinacity with which they follow vessels, especially steamers, for the sake of the offal thrown overboard. In the Mediterranean SEA-GTTLLS — SWALLOWS. 145 they lie in wait off the ports, and a chosen band starts with nearly every steamer, and follows it, fair weather or foul, to its destination. They have thus accompanied me on most of my longer Mediterranean excursions, such as from Corsica to Marseilles, from Messina to Marseilles. On the latter voyage a troop of eight joined us as we left the port of Messina, and were flying about us for three nights and two days, apparently ever on the wing. Whenever I was on deck they were there, not merely fol- lowing the vessel, but leisurely flying in circles half a mile in advance of us, or a mile or two behind. Bits of bread thrown into the sea brought them all to us in a few seconds. Their wonderfully acute sight at once detected the prize, when they would descend from a great height, like an arrow, and pounce on the smallest morsel floating in the foaming furrow traced by the vessel. The captain said that they knew the track of the Mediterranean steamers as well as the oldest pilots. I have been told that they follow in the same way the steamers from New York to Europe for ten days and more. They probably rest and sleep occasionally on the bosom of the sea, and afterwards overtake the ship by their rapid flight. The martins or swallows, as I have stated, never aban- don the sheltered ravines and sun-heated rocky mountains of the Pont St. Louis throughout the winter, finding sufficient insect life to maintain them. Although in an exceptionally warm and sheltered nook like these rocks they may thus remain, the general swallow population migrates from the Riviera as it does from more northern countries, crossing the Mediterranean to Africa. It is not really known where they finally go in mid-winter. Probably they keep moving south as winter advances. In Algeria they are not more stationary than in southern Europe, going south, into the desert when winter, cold, and rain sets in; unless it be in some exceptionally sheltered nook, such as the Gorge of Chiffa. There I was told that they remained all winter, as at the St. Louis rocks at Mentoue, keeping company with the monkeys, of which, however, we cannot boast. Some travellers speak of seeing them in Senegal in mid- winter, and Herodotus, twenty-three centuries ago, states L 146 THE MEDITERRANEAN. that swallows are found throughout the year at the sources of the Nile. As he certainly had not visited the Nile head, a glory reserved to our countrymen in recent days, he must have had the same hazy notion of what becomes of swallows in winter that we have. The presence of the martins attracts hawks and occasion- ally the majestic eagle from the adjoining Alpine regions. 1 have often lain, in mid-winter, for hours among the rocks at St. Louis, high above the blue vessel-clotted sea, with the wild Thyme, the Rosemary, and the Cneorum in full flower around me, watching their movements. As they gain confidence they resume their rapid flight in and out of the rocks, chasing the insects as on a fine English summer evening. Suddenly a noble hawk, occasionally a majestic Alpine eagle, appears, soaring aloft with wide-stretched pinions. The poor martins, stricken with fear, instantly seek a refuge, and in a few seconds disappear from the gaze of their ruthless pursuer. Sweeping from one rock to the other, he seems to enjoy the confusion and solitude he has created, and remains "the monarch of all he surveys." My friend Mr. Traherne Moggridge, author of the work I have mentioned, " The Flora of Mentone," who has made the ornithology of the Riviera a study, tells me that the rock Martin swallow does not visit England in the summer, although it ascends quite as far north, in an easterly direction. Like many other summer migrants •from the south, it takes a north-easterly course. The rock Martin is the sole member of the swallow genus that winters in Europe, and that only in a few warm sheltered localities, such as Gibraltar, Mentone, and the coast of Greece. Mr. T. Moggridge says that he has noticed other birds of passage during the winter at Mentone, such as the black Redstart and the Willow Wren. In company with these birds, although of very different habits, he has ob- served the beautiful Rock Creeper (Tichodroma saxaiilis), a relative of the Tree Creeper of our woods. Like this latter bird, it is rarely seen on the wing, but creeps up steep and apparently impracticable surfaces of rock, with a jerking motion and slight spasmodic expansion of the wing, dipping its long bill into the crevices of the rock as it ascends. BIRDS — HUMMING BIRD MOTH. 147 The body is of a mouse grey, but the upper part of the nearly black wing* is of a fine crimson colour, and there is a row of white spots on the quill feathers. The Pont St. Louis rocks are a favourite resort of this very interesting bird, but no doubt it may be seen on other points of the coast. Thus it has been noticed near the railway tunnels through the rocks on the road between Finale and Genoa; it is well known in Italy and Spain. One of the ornaments of the flower garden in autumn, and a constant visitor to our rooms in winter, is the hum- ming bird hawk moth {Macroglossa stellatarum). It is a large brown moth, with a mouse-like body and head, bril- liant eyes, small wings, and a tongue an inch or two in length, usually curled up proboscis shape. It has the power to dart this tongue, with instantaneous rapidity, into the corolla of flowers, to rifle them of the nectar on which it feeds. When hovering over flowers I am told that it thoroughly resembles the humming bird of tropical countries, whence its name. These moths are occasionally seen in warm summer weather in England. They are no doubt driven into the houses by the increasing cold of the nights. They are really pretty creatures, and I have often had several in the drawing-room for days together, hovering over cut flowers, darting their tongue in and out of the corollas, and feeding on their sweets. The St. Louis rocks rise all but perpendicularly from the sea, on the eastern side of the eastern bay, the Genoa road being blasted from their flanks. They present, near the shore, a deep, irregular, and picturesque cleft or ravine, occupied by a watercourse which falls as a cascade from a considerable height. The road crosses this ravine by a bold and elegant bridge of one arch, which is now the frontier between France and Italy. Masses of rock, irregularly divided and worn by the convulsions of nature, and. by the action of water and weather, form the boundaries of the ravine. They are partly naked, partly clothed with moun- tain plants, Lentiscus bushes, Thyme, the Cneorum, Valerian, Cytisus, Coronilla, and Bluebell. These rocks are continuous with the ridge that ascends to the Berceau, one of the high mountains of the Mentonian amphitheatre l £ 148 THE MEDITERRANEAN, (3850 feet). A few hundred feet above the sea line the scene becomes very wild and grand. The mountain assumes the form of a fantastic mass of huge rocks and stones. In one region they form a species of stony torrent, arrested in its rapid descent ; in another they are piled one over the other in every conceivable shape. It is the wild- ness and naked stony confusion of a mountain summit, within a few hundred feet of the sea-level. On the eastern side of the St. Louis ravine, lying on the side of the mountain, seven hundred feet above the sea, is a very picturesque, grey-looking village, Grimaldi by name. It is seen from the town and the eastern bay, warming itself in the sun, and is generally rendered conspicuous by patches of white which surround it ; this is the linen of the inhabitants, lying on the mountain to dry. On the left side of the Genoa road, which winds above the shore blasted out of the solid limestone rocks, below the village, is an old ruined mediaeval castellated tower, which formerly belonged to the Counts of Grimaldi. It was built either to protect the coast and the town from the attacks of' the roving Moors and Saracens a thousand years ago, or by the latter when they were masters of the country. It is known by the name of the Grimaldi or Saracen tower, and it is from a small watch turret near it that is taken the very truthful view of the Mentone amphitheatre reproduced in the frontis- piece.^ This is one of the most sheltered spots that can be found in the entire district, and the view from it is certainly one of the most complete and most lovely. It is here that I have established my winter garden. With a view to the cultivation of flowers and to the tranquil enjoyment of " invalid lazarone life" in hours of leisure, I have become, as already stated, the happy proprietor of the old tower, of the smiling sunny terraces that adjoin it, and of a consider- able extent of the rocky mountain side. At the bottom of the picturesque ravine, which is crossed by the bold St. Louis bridge, there is a watercourse, that is made to irrigate and fertilize all the terraces to which it can be diverted. Indeed, the groves of Lemon trees which cover the mountain side before we reach the St. Louis ravine owe their existence to its waters. In the lower part of ^w THE ST. LOUIS ROCKS. 149 the ravine there is an aqueduct on arches, which tradition says was built in the time of the Romans. Several hundred feet higher there is a small water canal, scooped out of the rock, which descends from the upper part of the ravine. As it is a short cut from the village of Grimaldi to Mentone, the villagers constantly make use of it, although there is scarcely foot-room for one person, and the precipice is immediately at the side. In one part the aqueduct is so much in a hollow of the rock that there is scarcely room to pass upright. A tale is told of a young girl who all her life had blithely and fearlessly traversed this path. She got married, had a baby, and carried the cradle on her head, as is the custom of the peasants in this country. One day she took the familiar road, with the cradle in the usual position, forgot the rock above, struck against it, and was dashed over the precipice with her child. On the western side of the St. Louis ravine are the " warm terraces/' as I have named them, the warmest region of Mentone. On the rocky mountain slope the owners have scooped out and built a series of terraces, which have been entirely planted with Lemon-trees. These trees owe their existence entirely to the streamlet which has been diverted from the ravine watercourse, and which irrigates the terraces, filling large tanks for summer use. Sheltered on every side except the south and south-west, saturated with sunshine from early morning to evening, the rock and soil never cool, and cold and frost are unknown, even on exceptional cold days. Thus they constitute a natural hotbed, where vegetation is always in advance, where winter is unknown, and where invalids may safely while away the day in the coldest weather. The stranger wandering among the rocks above these terraces may accidentally come across a small black metal cross. This cross commemorates a painful catastrophe that occurred some years ago. A sprightly English girl of ten, whose parents occupied the villa below, escaped with a younger sister from their governess, and, in light-hearted play, scrambled up the rocks. Having reached this wild region, the elder one climbed upon a peak to wave her handkerchief in recognition to a friend below, Unforfeu- 150 the mediterranean; nately she lost her footing", fell head -foremost, and was killed on the spot. There was universal mourning for the sad fate of the fair English child on the part of the kind-hearted Mentonians, and even now the fearful accident is never mentioned without deep sympathy for the bereaved parents. The b.ach underneath and beyond the St. Louis ravine is singularly beautiful. The red limestone rocks, the red rocks, as they are generally called, ascend perpendicularly to a great height, and. the shore is merely formed of debris and of advancing buttresses of the same formation, worked by the waves into the most jagged, irregular, and fantastic shapes. "When there is a strong south-westerly gale blowing the waves are thrown on these rocks with extreme force, and are broken into foam and spray that rise, with a noise like thunder, to a great height. On one point there is a sub- terranean passage or tunnel, into which the sea is engulfed, to escape further on in the shape of a magnificent " jet cFeau/' The sight, in stormy weather, is very grand. The Bone caves are at the base of these red rocks, above the coast line. Along and on the shore rocks used to pass the road to Genoa, a mere mule track, as before stated. Remains of it still exist, and it constitutes one of the most picturesque and pleasant promenades. The view of Mentone and of its amphitheatre is very fine from this point. About half a mile* beyond the torrent that descends from the St. Louis ravine, the path passes along the shore over a gully, by a bridge of one arch, so thin and light that it is crossed for the first time with some apprehension. It is said to be of Roman construction, and, small as it is, seems worthy of such an origin. Some bold rocks which here rise out of the sea near the shore, and give the command of deep water, are the favourite haunt of anglers. I have tried my fortune, in a piscatory sense, but with very little success. Would not some plan of ground-baiting be likely to attract the finny tribe? The refuse which the townspeople throw into the sea, over the quay, at the entrance of the town, seems to have that effect ; a fact which accounts for the habitual presence of native anglers. I leave this question, however, to those OTIUM SINE DIGNITATE. \ 5 1 more learned than myself in. the art. On these rocks is found the "samphire," which is not confined to the dizzy heights of Dover. The region is also a favourite habitat of the Cinerea maritima, and of the elegant Lavatera. A strong sea wall, and a broad foot causeway have been built along the shore of the eastern bay, from the town to the St. Louis rocks. Thus an admirable promenade, sheltered from the north-east, has been formed, most valuable to the invalids who inhabit the eastern bay. I would, however, warn all real invalids never to lounge or sit on the sea-beach unless there be a dead- calm. Generally speaking, when there is a perceptible sea-breeze, with rolling waves, it is dangerous. As previously ex- plained, although this breeze apparently comes from the south, it is often in reality a north wind deflected land- wards. As such it may produce a chill, and give rise to colds or sore-throats, or to even more serious mischief. I often feel inclined to stop my carriage, and philanthropi- cally to warn invalid strangers, whom I see sitting or lying on the beach in January or February, as if they were enjoying " othum sine dignitate" on our own shores in July or August. This leads me to remark that in our active, feverish modern civilization the old classic saying which I have quoted (awry) has ceased to be true. "Ease or leisure and dignity", no longer go together. Now, it must be ease without dignity, or dignity without ease. The two can no longer be combined. CHAPTER VI. THE CLIMATE OF THE GENOESE EIVIERA AND OF MENTONE CONSIDERED MEDICALLY. " Whoever wishes to investigate medicine properly, should proceed thus : in the first place to consider the seasons of the year, and what effects each of them produces : for they are not all alike, but differ much from themselves in regard to their changes." Hippocrates (On Airs, Waters, and Places). To appreciate the medical characteristics of the climate of the Genoese Riviera and of Mentone in general, it is only necessary to weigh the meteorological facts enunciated in a preceding chapter. A cool but sunny atmosphere, so dry that a fog is never seen at any period of the winter, either on sea or land, must be bracing, invigorating, stimulating. Such are the leading features of this region — the undercliff of central Europe. Behind the mountains which skirt the Riviera and the Mentonian amphitheatre, in midwinter, as we have seen, frost and snow may and often do extend up to the north pole, more than two thousand five hundred miles. On the other hand, the wind blows from the northern quarters during the greater part of the winter season. The air must, therefore, be cool, and would be cold, were it not warmed by an ardent sun, darting its rays through a cloud- less sky and a dry atmosphere — were it not. also, for the summer heat stored up in the rocks, and given out by them. These causes keep Mentone free from frost when it reigns all around, but cannot make it a tropical climate. There is no such climate on the shores and in the islands of the Mediterranean; there is no region in the Mediterranean basin free from the influence of the cold polar winds. THE RIVIERA MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 153 Such a winter climate, however, is perfection for all who want bracing-, renovating — for the very young, the invalid middle-aged, and the very old, in whom vitality, defective or flagging, requires rousing and stimulating. It unites, indeed, all the conditions calculated to exercise a beneficial influence in any state of lowered vital power. The cool, but pleasant temperature, the stimulating in- fluence of the sunshine, the usual absence of rain or of continued rain, the moderate dryness of the air, render daily exercise out of doors both possible and agreeable. Indeed, in such a region life may be spent out of doors throughout all but the entire winter. Such an existence, in such conditions, has a direct tendency to create and to sustain the appetite, and to improve the digestive and nutritive functions. The pores of the skin, also, are kept permanently open, and thus the lungs are relieved of the extra burden which is always thrown upon them in northern climates, when the cold damp of winter supervenes. It is, indeed, because the functions of the skin, as an excretory organ and. as a purifier of the blood, are all but arrested by the cold in our climate, that sore-throat, influenza, bronchitis, and kidney diseases in general are so prevalent in winter, or existing, become so aggravated. The work of blood-purification, accomplished in warm weather by the skin, is thrown in winter on the mucous membranes of the lungs and air passages, and on the kidneys. These organs are congested, choked, as it were, and succumb to the extra work, the blood itself becoming poisoned by its deficient purification of worn out materials. Hence the colds or mucous membrane inflam- mations, and the fever that accompanies them, in the winter season of the north, as likewise various other forms of chest and kidney disease. Hence also the comparative immunity from these affections on the Riviera. I selected Mentone as my winter residence many years ago, because I was suffering from advanced pulmonary consumption. Many of the invalids who have followed my example have laboured under the same dire disease. That the choice was a rational one, will, I think, be generally admitted, on consideration of the facts above stated. 154 THE KIVIERA AND MENTONE When I first arrived, there were scarcely any strangers, but since I have drawn the attention of my fellow prac- titioners to the value of this climate as a health resort in chest affections, the foreign population has yearly in- creased, and numbered last winter (1873-74) above sixteen hundred. It contains representatives of most European nations ; the English and French, however, have hitherto been the most numerous. Since the translation of this work into German (in 1863) many Germans have made it their winter abode. Our American cousins are also finding their way to Mentone in yearly increasing numbers, since the fourth edition was published in New York (1870). Phthisis is essentially a disease of debility. It prin- cipally attacks those who have received organizations de- ficient in vitality from their parents, or who have injured the vitality of an originally good constitution by excesses of any kind, or in whom such a constitution has been impaired by over work, or by hardships and privations independent of their own will. In such a disease — one dependent on defective vitality — a bracing, stimulating climate, such as I have described, must be beneficial, and has been most decidedly so, both in my own case and in those of the many whom I have attended. With the assistance of sunshine, a dry, bracing atmo- sphere, a mild temperature, and rational sthenic treatment, hygienic, dietetic, and medicinal, I have found pulmonary consumption in this favoured region, especially in its earlier stages, by no means the intractable disease that I formerly found it in London and Paris. After fifteen winters passed at Mentone, I am surrounded by a phalanx of cured or arrested consumption cases. This curative result has only been attained, in every instance, by rousing and improving the organic powers, and principally those of nutrition. If a consumptive patient can be improved in health, and thus brought to eat and sleep well, thoroughly digesting and assimilating food, the battle is half won ; and the principal benefit of the winter climate of the Riviera is the assistance it gives the physician in attaining this end. Amongst the consumptive patients I have attended, those who were in the early or even secondary stages of the MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 155 disease, and had vitality and constitutional stamina left, have mostly done well. I have seen, in many young persons, well-marked crude tubercular deposits disappear, gradually absorbed. In various cases of accidental phthisis in middle- aged, over- worked men, the amelioration has been still more apparent. I have seen well-marked cavities become partly or entirely cicatrized, and the constitutional symptoms gradually subside ; the general health and strength steadily improving. For more extended information respecting the influences of the climate of the Riviera in pulmonary con- sumption I must refer to my special work on the subject."* I must, however, be allowed to state here that the fifteen years' experience I have had of pulmonary consumption in the south of Europe has led me to the conviction that there is a greater probability of the disease being arrested, of life being prolonged, and even of a cure being eventually effected if the patient can winter in the south than if he remains all winter in the north of Europe. I certainly have infinitely more confidence in and reliance on the value of a winter residence in the south than I had fifteen years ago, when I first left England for the winter, a confirmed invalid. As a practising physician in London, I had not seen the good results from wintering abroad that I have since experienced and witnessed at Mentone. The explana- tion, however, to me is obvious. Four out of five of my former patients and friends evidently committed all kinds of mistakes, against which, from want of experience, I could not guard them as I can now. They travelled about for pleasure, when they ought to have considered them- selves confirmed invalids on the brink of the grave, and have remained stationary. They often took up their abode in large, dirty, fever-poisoned southern towns, more occu- pied in sight-seeing than in health-seeking, and constantly exposed to many pernicious influences. Is it extraordinary that they should generally have come back as bad as, or even worse, than when they started ? * " On the Treatment of Pulmonary Consumption by Hygiene, Climate, and Medicine, in its connexion with Modern Doctrines.'* By James Henry Bennet, 2nd edition, 1871. London : Churchill. 156 THE REVIERA AND MENTONE The most satisfactory cases that I have witnessed have been those in which climate has not been alone relied on, in which the patient has been under constant and judicious medical management, in which the routine of daily life has been guided by medical experience, and in which the various therapeutical resources that our improved know- ledge of phthisis gives the profession have been steadily persevered in. Patients left to themselves, or to rules laid down for their guidance at home, commit all kinds of errors. They constantly omit to do what they ought to do, and carried away by the example of others, or by the first dawn of improvement, do much that they ought not to do. In some instances, even of advanced phthisis, in which there is, from the first, but little chance of recovery, the invalids, surrounded by dear friends, are so charmed with the sunshine, with the foreign scenery, and with the vege- tation, that it more than compensates for all their fatigues. Indeed, I have known them rejoice to be under the bright sky of the south, even in the midst of great physical trials. To such sufferers, admirers of the picturesque, mentally alive to the beauties of nature, to the glory of the sun daily careering in a blaze of light through the heavens, to the beauty of the " ever-changing" sea, to the shadows on the mountains, the quiet repose out of doors all but daily enjoyed makes ample amends for the sacrifices of exile. They descend the valley of the shadow of death rejoicing, nor can any one, in their case, regret the fatigue encountered in the journey from England. Persons suffering from pulmonary consumption should also be cautioned against trusting- to the follies and delu- sions of homoeopathy and of other modern fallacies. They should ever remember that they are labouring under a disease, curable in some cases, but usually fatal ; from a disease that is still, with all our improvements in medicine, a verdict of death to a large proportion of those whom it attacks. Is it not, therefore, tempting Providence, throw- ing life away, abandoning the last chance of recovery, to discard the experience of ages, and to entrust life to the unknown professors of doctrines which every master-mind MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 157 in Europe, engaged in the study and practice of the medical profession, pronounces insane delusions, to say the least? Many persons who have always suffered from bronchitis in England are quite free from it at Mentone, owing pro- bably to the dryness of the atmosphere. I have an old friend at Nice, a London physician, now above sixty, who abandoned London many years ago, owing to repeated attacks of winter bronchitis, which at last led to very serious complications. He made a winter settlement at jSTice, and, ever since, has there passed the cold season, perfectly free from all bronchial mischief, and in flourishing health. In several instances of this description with which I am acquainted, the attempt to once more spend the winter in England has been attended with a return of the bronchial affection with its usual severity. In one case, attended during my first winter's sojourn in the south, which I quote as illustrative of what climate and perseverance may accomplish, a gentleman aged forty- three, with softened tubercles, who had suffered from chronic laryngitis and bronchitis for nearly three years in England, lost all cough and laryngeal irritation after two winters' residence at Mentone, and has had no serious return of disease. In his case phthisis followed persevering attempts to get rid of gout in the chronic form, supervening on a first acute attack. Exercise, and a rather low diet, were evidently carried too far, and continued too long, con- sidering the arduous nature of professional pursuits. This patient, who got rid of gout merely to fall into tubercular cachexia, is now quite well, and shows no external evidence of the past disease. It is easy to understand that a dry, bracing, cool, invigo- rating climate such as I have described, should have a beneficial influence on the respiratory mucous membrane of persons who have still some of the vital power of youth, or some constitutional stamina left. When we add to this, all but daily exercise in the open air throughout the winter, in the midst of magnificent scenery, removal from the cares, anxieties, and duties of ordinary life, pleasant social inter- course with fellow-sufferers and their families, all tuned to the same unison of cheerful and hopeful resignation, we 158 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE certainly have, united, the hygienic influences calculated to renovate the general health, and thus to arrest the develop- ment of tubercular disease. Indeed, I am firmly convinced that a warmer and milder winter climate, only to be found in a tropical or semi-tropical region, is less favourable to tbe recovery of health in chronic chest disease ; — provided, however, rigid attention be paid to the precautions necessary in a region where the temperature varies so constantly as it does on the shores of the Mediterranean. Heat and moisture debilitate and relax the economy; moderate cold and a dry atmosphere invigorate and strengthen it. In the treatment of phthisis, the renovation of the con- stitutional powers, of the general health, is of primary importance. Chronic bronchitis does well, as we have seen, under judicious medical management. Generally speaking, it gradually dies away, provided, also, the patient be prudent, obey hygienic and medical rules, and do not make a stove or hothouse of the room where he or she lives, day or night. By falling into this latter error, as nearly all from the north-east of Europe do, it is quite possible to make a northern climate of Mentone, and to fall from one cold into another throughout the entire winter. The form of asthma which is connected with chronic bronchitis, the emphysematous form, also does well. As its gravity depends on the bronchitis, if the latter is improved so is the asthma. I believe, indeed, that many of the pitiable sufferers who present this complication, and who every winter get worse, with the vista before them at home of inevitable aggravation of their disease, might attain all but entire freedom from chest suffering by passing several successive winters on the Riviera. To them, in reality, the health question is as important as it is to the consumptive. This form of asthma gradually leads to death in those who are advancing in life, and that through a stage of great suffering. The heart, the liver, the kidneys, often become secondarily congested and diseased, and death is the result of the combined influence of these various secondary maladies. In corroboration of this statement, I may mention that I have known several MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 159 instances of patients arriving- at Men to lie in all but a dying state from chronic bronchitis and asthma, who have gradually rallied, and eventually attained a very bearable condition. I cannot say the same of the spasmodic form of asthma, the form that occurs in childhood, in middle age, at any period of life, apparently from nervous causes. I have known such cases do well, but the majority do not. I presume, that the climate is too dry, too stimulating, and I am inclined to think that a moister climate, such as that of Pau, Ajaccio, Palermo, Algiers, or Madeira, would be more likely to suit. I do not say that persons suffering from nervous asthma should not try Mentone, for, as I. have stated, I have known these cases do well ; but I think it would be imprudent for such patients to make a regular six months' winter settlement before trying whether it suits them or not. This remark applies equally to other and different climates. Nervous asthma is so capricious a disease, so much under the influence in its manifestation of hidden, obscure, nervous, and meteorological conditions, that it is impossible to tell beforehand whether a locality will agree or not. The best plan, therefore, is to go first to an hotel, and to be guided by results. I would mention, that to some asthmatic persons the mere fact of living near the sea, or a few hundred yards from it, may make all the difference between severe suffering or perfect immunity, and conversely. At Mentone, there- fore, both situations should be tried in case of need. I have observed that nearly all persons who in England are ill when living in immediate proximity to the sea, appear also to suffer at Mentone. I should therefore advise no such persons to settle there unless they can obtain one of the houses built away from the sea. To live at Mentone, in a large proportion of the houses, is really like living on ship- board ; for most of those first built, and nearly all the hotels, are situated on or near the beach. Within the last few years, however, a number of villas have been erected at some distance from the sea-shore, within the amphitheatre, as also two hotels, the Hotel da Louvre, and the Hotel Beau Sejour. To chest cases in general, the proximity of 160 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE the sea is, I think, decidedly beneficial. Sea voyages are universally recommended in such diseases, and nearly all the sanitaria for the consumptive, such as Torquay, Bourne- mouth, Ventnor, Malaga, and Funchal, in Madeira, are on the sea-coast. Indeed, salt is lauded by some modern phy- sicians as a panacea for phthisis. When the sea beats on the shore at Mentone, the spray is thrown inland in the shape of a fine dust-like vapour, which extends fifty or even a hundred feet from the beach, and must be inhaled by those who live in the houses that line the shore. The air coming from the sea is undoubtedly the purest and most wholesome we can possibly breathe. There is another class of patients who do not appear to benefit, as a rule, by the climate at Mentone — those suffering from the more severe forms of spasmodic and intermittent neuralgia. I presume that the dry, keen, cool air of the north Mediterranean coast in general is too stimulating for such cases. In one, that of a lady, a former patient of my own, whom I had sent from England on account of ago- nizing tic, which usually lasted all winter, and who had been free the first year at Palermo and Naples, the tic returned with its usual violence at Mentone, and lasted several months, as it would have done in England. During subsequent winters, passed at Naples and Malta, this patient has again partially escaped. In other less severe cases I have known the neuralgic attack, apparently roused by the cold days, long to resist medical treatment. I must add, however, that in some instances patients liable to neuralgia have completely, or all but completely escaped from their usual enemy during the entire winter. It appears to m« that these favourable cases occur mostly in persons merely liable to neuralgic pains in connexion with deranged digestive and constitutional states, the unfavour- able ones in persons suffering from neuralgia in its more aggravated form, a very difficult malady to deal with in any locality in any climate. To those who. without having any particular ailment, are weak, ailing, dyspeptic, below par indeed, and who want invigorating and bracing, I have found the climate very valuable as a winter residence. MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 161 To weak, sickly children, the daily sunshine and out- door life are inestimable. Each winter I see many delicate children rally in a most marvellous and gratifying manner. Instead of suffering from catarrhal affections, as is so often the case at home, they seem to enjoy a happy immunity from these ailments. Constantly out of doors, in the sun- shine, they soon become ravenous for food, sleep well, and get fat and rosy. It is the very climate for strumous children who generally lose ground during our long northern winters. Climate alone, however, must not be trusted; good food, plenty of air day and night, and judicious medical treatment if required, are essential. The very aged, like the very young, seem to thrive in the mild winter climate of Men tone. They can get out constant^, either on foot, in Bath or donkey-chairs, or in carriages, instead of being confined to the house for months, as is often the case in England. Moreover, they are never exposed to extreme cold, so fatal to old age. In England a sharp frost kills the aged as it kills flies in autumn ; the blood is driven internally, and fatal congestions of the lungs, brain, and heart occur, or still more fatal inflammatory affections. All these dangers are escaped. Instead of the cold east winds of the spring, which yearly fill the obituaries, there is a truly genial, balmy spring, the spring of the poets. The Riviera climate, in its more sheltered regions, is equally propitious to those suffering from disease of the kidney : congestion, albuminuria, gravel. The dryness and mildness of the atmosphere, by promoting cutaneous transpiration, relieve the kidneys as well as the lungs — for in our climate, as we have seen, the kidneys have also extra work to do in winter. Moreover, the power of living in the open air, and the improvement which follows in the general health, is of as great importance in these diseases as in chest affections. I have met with many very remarkable cases of improve- ment and even of cure. One important reason why the climate of Mentone and the Riviera is beneficial in all these forms of disease is, that it is seldom or never, at the same time, cold and wet. When the weather is cold it is with north winds, and the air is 162 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE dry. When the air is moist south winds prevail, and the temperature is mild. I have long remarked in England that colds in the head, sore-throats, attacks of bronchitis and. influenza, only become prevalent when the weather is both cold and wet. Cold dry weather alone does not produce them epidemically, nor does mild damp weather. However wet and damp it may be in England, or in the midst of the rain and mists of the west coast of Scotland, as long as a summer temperature lasts, and the thermometer is at or above 60°, very few colds are met with. Let it, however, fall to 40°, 45°, or even 50°, and then damp or wet weather is immediately followed by the development of catarrhal disease on a large scale. Indeed, rainy weather, when the thermometer is not below 55° or above 65°, night or day, is not injurious to health. The cool, rainy summers which we sometimes have in England, and which characterize the west coast of Scot- land, are healthier than dry, warm, fine summers. Thus, the summer of 1860, one of the most rainy known for many years, was also one of the healthiest. In 1861 it rained all but incessantly on the west coast of Scotland, from the middle of June until the middle of September. During the summer quarter the results of observation at fifty-five stations of the Meteorological Society showed that the rainfall was 15*66 inches, instead of 8*80, the average of the previous years, and yet the season was unusually healthy. Thus the mortality was 175 deaths in every 10,000 persons living, whilst in England it was 199. There was the usual difference between the town mortality and that of the country : — in the towns it was, in Scotland, 204 in every 10,000 persons, in England 220 ; in the country, in Scotland, 142, in England 178. These data are taken from the quarterly report of the Registrar- General. I was residing or travelling on the west coast of Scotland during the greater part of this quarter, as an invalid, and found that the temperature kept between 55° and 65°. I scarcely ever found it either above or below. I observed around me, also, as on previous visits, all but universal immunity from catarrhal affections, colds, or coughs. I usually spent the day fishing, often under an umbrella, MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 163 rowed in a boat on the lochs, and never once caught the slightest cold, although very liable to do so in a lower temperature if there is the least damp. In England the summer was much drier and warmer that year. Heavy rain no doubt acts beneficially in clearing the atmosphere, the earth, and the drains, of putrescent matter and of miasmata, especially when rain falls in great quantities in a short time, as in warm climates. On the other hand, continued rain and damp, with a temperature at or above 70°, hyperstimulates the liver and skin, predisposing to liver and intestinal affections, to diarrhoea, and dysentery, and to cutaneous diseases. At Mentone the winter temperature in the shade is gene- rally below 60°, but the air is usually dry, and this is no doubt the reason catarrhal affections are rare. Whenever the weather is both cold and damp, colds are caught at Mentone as elsewhere, but they generally die away as soon as the dry sunshine returns, even if the thermometer remains low. Those who enjoy the greatest immunity are those who keep their rooms cool and well ventilated day and night. Those who make large fires, who close their windows hermetically, and avoid every breath of air, are precisely those who suffer the most in this respect. I may instance the Germans and Swiss, who, accustomed at home to shut every crevice, and to treat the external air as an enemy, generally follow the same plan at Mentone, and suffer accordingly. One of the most convincing proofs of the healthiness of Mentone is the general absence of severe accidental disease. During my fifteen winters' residence I have seen but very little of the diseases usually met with in the south of Europe — fever, malaria, dysentery, or of any serious malady attributable to external causes. Indeed, I have been prin- cipally consulted for the diseases and ailments that the invalids brought with them. This is the more remarkable when we consider that in many large continental health towns, such as Naples, Rome, Malaga, a considerable pro- portion of the foreign physicians'' duties consists in attending their countrymen for maladies of the above-mentioned cha- racter. M % 164 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE To derive that benefit, however, from the climate of Mentone, and of the south of Europe generally, which it is capable of affording in disease, and especially in pulmo- nary consumption, the most rigid adherence should be paid to the hygienic rules necessary in these regions during the winter season. It should never be forgotten that in winter the heat is sun-heat, and that the air, barring its influence, is usually cold. Warm clothes and woollen outer garments should be used. In dressing for out of doors, a thermo- meter, placed outside a north room, should be daily con- sulted. Those who visit the south for the first time often think that summer clothing only is necessary, and that warm clothes and great-coats may be discarded. I have even known physicians at home, who should have been better informed, tell their patients so. Never was there a greater mistake ; summer clothes are useless from December to May. Those required are the light but warm woollen clothes we wear during our cold spring and autumn, with light over garments. The latter can seldom be safely dis- pensed with, even on the sunniest and warmest winter days, on account of the great difference between the sunshine and the shade. We may take a lesson from the native gentle- men, who, whenever it is not absolutely warm, cover them- selves up to the chin with heavy cloaks. If these rules are not observed, if warm woollen clothes are not constantly worn, and even warm flannel or merino vests next the skin, rheumatic pains often attack the strong as well as the weak, and more especially those who are advancing in life. Indeed, I question whether, in the south of Europe, in winter, it is not as difficult to keep free from rheumatic pains as it is in the north. The heat of the sun in the day makes northerners thoughtless about outer garments, whilst the least exposure to the cool dry air which reigns for months may be followed with this penalty. Attendance at church is a fruitful cause of rheumatism and colds. If the church is warm, people catch cold on going out. If it is cool, they nearly all come much too lightly dressed for sitting still a couple of hours " in their Sunday best/' and often return home with sharp pains, which they MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 165 try to account for by imaginary draughts. I myself wear, in all weathers, a thick woollen Inverness cape, such as I should wear in Scotland, and that throughout the winter; it is an admirable garment for such a climate. This tendency to rheumatic pains is not peculiar to the Riviera. It exists, in winter, all over the south and the east, in Italy, in Spain, in Egypt, in Algeria, and even irf the Desert of Sahara. The Bedouin Arabs, in winter, with the thermometer at 80° or 90° in the daytime, swathe themselves up in woollen garments and woollen cloaks, for rheumatism is their enemy as well as ours. Although rheumatic pains are common, rheumatic fever is rare. I have seen, it is true, several cases, but it has always been early in the winter, in persons who evidently brought the blood predisposition with them. The free action of the skin, in this climate, probably tends to purify the blood and to render rheumatic fever uncommon. It is not by any means a frequent disease among the natives, although muscular rheumatism, on the contrary, is very common, owing, no doubt, to exposure and to insufficient clothing. As might be anticipated, such a climate is favourable to gout, and I have known many gouty persons enjoy a happy immunity from habitual suffering. Sharp attacks of gout, however, may occur here as elsewhere, in those who are liable to them, especially soon after arrival from the North. The free and constant action of the skin is favourable to the gouty as well as to the rheumatic. The hours for out-of-door exercise should be between nine and three or four, and the return should be so arranged as to secure the arrival at home before sunset. Italian physicians appear to attach a mysterious and noxious in- fluence to the hour of sunset. In such a climate as that of Mentone and Nice, I am persuaded that the danger is in the rapid lowering of the temperature at that time, which exposes to sudden chills, the pores of the skin being often open at the time through previous exercise. This sudden chill in southern climates is no doubt alone sufficient to produce fever of the intermittent type, without any malarious agency. It is because the same danger exists 166 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE even in midday, in passing accidentally from the sun to the shade., that it is always necessary to be dressed for the latter. The invalid should inhabit a south room, and not remain long in a north room unless the weather be warm, or unless it be warmed by a fire. The one is summer, the other winter. When the weather is bad, he or she should make a good fire, and scrupulously stay at home in well- ventilated rooms until it changes. Sunshine and warmth are sure soon to reappear, and thus to bring the confinement to a close. After several days of chilly rain, as already stated, sore throats, colds in the head, coughs, and rheumatic pains begin as in England ; but then the sun again shines, and they usually at once die away. All dinner and evening parties should be strictly forbidden to invalids. They should be in before sunset, and not leave home again until the following morning, throughout the winter. Lastly, exercise and out-door life must not be carried so far as to produce permanent lassitude. Many of the most confirmed invalids fall into this error — one easily com- mitted — owing to the great attractions of out-door life, to the all but constant fine weather, and to the iujunction generally made to take daily exercise, if possible. This last remark applies more especially to consumptive patients. Physical debility is a more ordinary accompani- ment of phthisis than is generally supposed, and when it exists much exercise is decidedly pernicious. In some cases, indeed, scarcely any exercise can betaken without impairing the digestion of food, and thus producing sleeplessness and extreme lassitude, a fact not generally known, even by physicians, and clearly a result of the organic cachexia connected with the disease. During the iiiteen winters I have passed at Mentone, constantly surrounded by consumptive patients labouring under every stage of the disease, 1 have become more and more convinced of the truth and importance of this fact. Those who do the best are those who accept their position cheerfully, who secede entirely from the valid part of the population, from their amusements and occupations, and are content to lead a quiet, contemplative existence. Happy MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 167 are they if they can find pleasure in books, music, sketching, and the study of nature; if they can be satisfied to spend their days in the vicinity of the house in which they live, and to sit or lie for hours basking in the sun, like an " invalided lizard on the wall,'"' following implicitly the medical rules laid down for their guidance. Nearly all the best cases I have met with have been among such. Those who have no mental resources in themselves, who are mise- rable unless engaged in active pursuits, fare the worst, both in body and mind. They do not resignedly accept the forced inaction their disease entails upon them, are dis- contented and restless, constantly commit imprudences for the sake of amusement, and over-tax their strength by endeavouring to participate in the pleasures and pursuits of the healthy and strong. A good plan for the invalid is to walk, ride, or drive to one of the many romantic regions in the neighbourhood — to Roccabruna, the Cabrole valley, the Cap Martin, the Pont St. Louis, the Nice, or Genoa Road, or, on calm days, to the picturesque rocky beach — to take the cushions out of the carriage, if driving, with a cloak or two, and to remain sitting or lying in the sunshine, in some spot sheltered from wind, for two or three hours. The range of observation is thus increased without fatigue, the glorious scenery of the district is seen and enjoyed in its ever- varying phases, and the mind is refreshed by change. On fine days, when the sea is calm, boats also can be had for a sail or a row, and air and exercise obtained with- out fatigue. Those who are equal to a sail and a drive the same day can, according to the wind, sail east or west along the coast as far as Ventimiglia or Monaco, distant, the one seven, the other five miles. They can then land and return by means of a carriage sent on from Mentone to meet them. The view of the mountains thus obtained from the sea is truly magnificent. Indeed, it is only from the sea, as I have stated, that the grandeur of the mountain and coast scenery can be truly appreciated. With the above precautions, the climate of Mentone, and of the south of Europe generally, is safe and beneficial ; witnout them it is unsafe and treacherous. This is evidenced 168 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE by the great winter mortality of the natives of the Nice and Mentone districts, and of Italy and Spain generally, by pneumonia and pleurisy, two of the commonest maladies. Being badly clothed, never making fires, and ignorantly braving the atmospheric changes, the lower orders are constantly exposed to chills, and succumb in numbers to these diseases, treated, as they are in Italy, by bleeding every few hours. Persons in the latter stages of phthisis more especially suffer from the slightest dereliction of the above rules, which they are not always the most careful to follow. Indeed, I have no hesitation in asserting that the improvement of the phthisical invalid depends as much on close attention to these injunctions as on the medical skill of his attendant, and that it is the more decided the more faithfully they are observed. One great advantage of the dryness of the atmosphere, and of the absence of severe cold in the night, is that bed- room windows may be left open, more or less, without risk of any kind, throughout the winter, and thus perfect night ventilation of the bed-room can be attained. This is a most important point both for the sound and the unsound, but more especially for invalids and for those who are suffering from pulmonary consumption. Invalids should invariably sleep in a south room, as they thereby insure a mild and equable night temperature throughout the greater part of the winter, even with the window open. The same rule, however, does not apply to those who are sound, or to those who have in a great measure recovered health. In south rooms, saturated all day by warm sunshine, the temperature seldom falls at night below from 56° to 60° Fah., owing, no doubt, in part to the radiation of heat from the walls. In north rooms, on the contrary, the tempera- ture approximates much more to that of the external atmosphere, unless raised by fire. With the window slightly open, it will generally range from 50° to 5Q°, according to the coldness of the night. This is a much more wholesome state of things for the healthy, as a moderate degree of cold at night braces and invigorates the system. The warm bed-room is a debilitating hothouse to MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 169 persons in health. Indeed, a lower temperature by night than by day is indicated by nature. It is found necessary for the well-being of plants in all stoves, hothouses, and conservatories, and was evidently intended by an all- wise Providence, which only turned the earth toward the sun for a portion of the twenty-four hours. In concluding these remarks on the medical charac- teristics of the Riviera climate, there is one important fact to which I would more particularly draw attention. Con- tinued and careful observation during a long series of years has led me to the conclusion that the benefit to be derived from a winter residence in this favoured part of Europe, or in any other healthy locality, is not always obtained at once ; sometimes not even the first winter. Confirmed invalids brin": their constitution with them. As the Latin poet says — " Coelum, non aniniam, mutant qui trans mare currunt." The illness under which they suffer has probably been the result of pernicious influences, constitutional, social, cli- matal, which have been in operation for many years. The entire organization is unfavourably, morbidly modified. Even if the locality and climate chosen are the very best that could possibly be found, it is unreasonable to expect an immediate or sudden change. Yet it is what most invalids do expect; and, owing to their ignorance of this fact, they often feel disappointed, and express themselves so, when time passes and but little apparent benefit is experienced. In reality, in confirmed progressing disease, not to get worse, merely to remain stationary, may be evidence of the success of the means used, the evidence of real improvement. If a train is rushing furiously into some danger, and the guard and engine-driver put down the breaks and reverse the engine, the train does not stop all at once. It continues its progress for a time, notwithstanding the most judicious and efficient steps to arrest it. When it yields to control at first it remains stationary, and later, only, begins to retrace its steps. So it is in disease; its onward progress has first to be 170 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE checked. Change of climate, the removal of all disturbing, pernicious influences, may not apparently tell at the outset, although they may be silently, quietly exercising the de- sired and anticipated influence. Then comes the stationary period, and only later still — in pulmonary consumption often not until the second or third winter — the real, undoubted improvement. I have watched many sufferers for successive winters, and have thus had the opportunity of judging comparatively. Unquestionably the most satisfactory cases of arrested and of cured phthisis that I have seen, have been among those who have had the power and the will to return again and again ; who have adopted one of my mottoes, vivendum est, " to be or not to be," and have cheerfully made every possible sacrifice of family ties and of social position and duties, in order to give themselves a fair chance of life. The health of the native population is exceptionally good. According to the late Dr. Bottini, in his work entitled " Menton et son Climat," this much regretted physician, who had practised more than a quarter of a century in the district, says that the average duration of life is forty-five years, an average far above that of the town population of the south of Europe in general. He also states that a large proportion of the older inhabitants of the district attain to above seventy years of age. This is the more remarkable, as t}ie houses of the old town are crowded, one above the other, in a most unhygienic manner. But then they are built on a very steep acclivity, so that nearly all enjoy light, air, and sunshine, notwithstanding their extreme proximity to each other. Moreover, the streets, although narrow, are clean, owing to everything that can be turned into manure being carefully preserved, and carried off to the mountain terraces. The diseases under which they suffer present nothing peculiar beyond a tendency to scrofula and chlorosis in the young, which may be attributed to a low vegetable diet. Gout is all but unknown, rheumatic fever rare, as already stated ; indeed, it is seldom seen except in persons recently arrived, although muscular rheumatism is common. As a general rule, intermittent and remittent fevers, — that is, MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 171 malarious fevers, are all but unknown. A few years ago, however, for two summers there were many cases. This is a very singular fact, difficult to account for on the marsh theory, as there are no marshes or plains whatever in the district. Some of the cases occurred in mountain villages such as Grimaldi, perched on the rock side 700 feet above the sea. The manifestation of intermittent fever in such a locality seems to me a proof that in certain electrical and thermometrical conditions of the atmosphere these fevers can be generated without marsh miasmata, by mere chills, when the economy is predisposed by previous intense heat. In Corsica and Algeria I found intermittent and re- mittent fever to exist everywhere, on high mountains as well as on plains, although undoubtedly much less frequent and severe on the former. It is certainly singular that malarious fevers should be little observed on the Riviera when they are so rife and deadly on the opposite coast of Corsica. The probable cause is the equability of the day and night temperatures, but I shall discuss this question at length in another chapter, that on Corsica. The sick poor are attended by physicians and surgeons appointed and paid by the town or district. These gentle- men are the medical and surgical attendants of an hospital, erected in the angle of the eastern bay a few } r ears ago. Pulmonary consumption is a rare malady among the native population, the deaths from this cause being only one in fifty-five instead of one in five, as in London and Paris, and one in six at Geneva. Those whom it attacks are all but invariably people who follow sedentary pur- suits. The disease is nearly unknown among those who work in the open air. It is a well established fact, that although tubercular disease is more common in cold, damp climates, like that of England, Holland, and the north of France, it can be and is developed anywhere, by defective ventilation, the want of light, bad food, and overwork of body or mind. All these causes are united in many of the unhealthy towns of the south of Europe, and in all such consumption is more or less rife. To prevent or arrest it, not only do we require a favourable climate, but also every hygienic condition and precaution. Thus, in Naples, a very 172 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. unhygienic southern town, the deaths from phthisis are one in eight; at Marseilles, where the hygienic conditions are, or used to be, still worse, the mortality from this cause is, or rather was, as great as one in four. This fact will sur- prise no one who has made a journey of discovery in the old quarters, before the recent improvements. The town of Marseilles, however, is being regenerated. Notwithstanding the heat of the summer, liver affections are rare, as also is dysenteric disease. The cool weather of autumn arrives sufficiently early in November to check the tendency to abdominal and intestinal disease produced by the warmth of the summer and autumn. Asiatic cholera has never appeared at Mentone, a rather singular fact, as it has exercised considerable ravages on most other parts of the Riviera. This all but total absence of actual dysentery at Mentone is a strong evidence of the healthiness of the district, for the summer and autumn heat are certainly quite sufficient to predispose to it were other conditions favourable to its development. There is, however, a most remarkable con- nexion between dysentery and the intermittent and re- mittent fevers known as malarious. They are met with in the same regions, and under the same conditions, and appear often to take the place one of the other. Thus, the general immunity of the Mentone district from malarious fevers may be said to explain its general immunity from dysentery. Bilious diarrhoea, bordering on dysentery, is not uncommon in the autumn, especially with invalids who arrive too early. The last ten days of October is quite early enough for arrival, and the first week of May is quite early enough for departure. CHAPTER VII. MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. AMUSEMENTS — DRIVES — HIDES— PEDESTRIAN EXCURSIONS — MOUNTAIN VILLAGES — CASINO — CHURCHES— SOCIAL LIFE. " All ! what a life were this, how sweet, how lovely ! Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroidered canopy To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? yes, it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth." — Shakspeare. Since the first edition of this work was published, in 1861, Mentone has quite chauged its character. It was then a quiet little Italian town on the sunny shore of the Riviera, with two or three small hotels, principally used by passing' travellers, and half a dozen recently erected villas. Now it has become a well-known and frequented winter resort, with thirty hotels, four times that number of villas, and a mixed foreign winter population of above sixteen hundred. Many of these winter visitors are invalids in search of health, but a large proportion are mere sun-worshippers, who have left the north to bask in the southern sunshine, or travellers to or from Italy, glad to rest for a time under the Lemon and Olive-clad hills of lovely Mentone. Its re- sources for visitors, however, are still principally in pic- turesque outdoor life. The scenery is most grand and imposing in the mountain background, most picturesque and romantic in the nearer hills and coast outline. Every ravine, every valley is a path of great loveliness, ascending gently towards the higher range. The flora is very abundant, and, as we have seen, most of our garden spring flowers grow wild in great luxuriance. The geological aspects of the country are also very instructive, and afford constant 174 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. occupation and amusement to those interested in such pursuits. The great invalids, if prudent, mostly keep to the drives and walks along the seashore. Those who are stronger, mounted on sure-footed donkeys, ascend the mountain paths as far as their strength permits; whilst the robust and valid members of the community try their pedestrian powers by ascending the higher mountains in various directions. Whenever the sun shines there are protected valleys and sunny mountain nooks, where at all times, in December or January, as well as earlier and later, warmth, a quie.t atmosphere, and flowers are sure to be found. What with these occupations, books and papers and the harmonious intercourse of countrymen united by the bond of common origin, the winter passes pleasantly; merely saddened, occa- sionally, by the final departure of some hopeless sufferer. Although the Mentonian amphitheatre is limited, as described, it is sufficiently extensive to offer all but endless excursions to visitors, ill or well, and more especially to pedestrians. The protected valleys and hills are very nume- rous, and within the reach even of the invalid population. Once, also, the higher barrier of mountains has been passed, a perfect Switzerland opens out to the adventurous and to the valid tourist. Within the immediate area of the Mentone district there are other points of interest besides the valleys and hills. The drives are very picturesque and lovely in their entire extent, and are all within the peculiar shelter of the locality. They are : the beautiful western or Nice road to Roccabruna and the Turbia ; the equally beautiful eastern or Genoa road to Ventimiglia and Bordighera; the charming road along the shore to Monaco ; the road to the Cap Martin, to its bold, broken, rocky point, to the ruins of the old convent in the centre, and to the telegraph tower ; the mountain pass road up the Carei valley, which winds over the mountains to Sospello and Turin; and lastly, the road that leads along the Cabrole valley to the foot of the St a . Lucia and St a . Agnese mountains. The first-mentioned drive, that to Roccabruna, Turbia, and Nice, has already been described. It is the road the 1 *aris . Imp ■ Monrorq; . J2 IE MENTOR .AMPHTTTrFATB^ DRIVES — TTJRBIA VENTIMIGLIA. 175 stranger passes along on his arrival at Mentone from Nice, and is so exquisitely beautiful that it generally remains the favourite excursion, even during a residence of many months. Two hours are required to gently ascend the mountain side from Mentone to Turbia, at the summit of the pass. During the entire ascent the road is thoroughly sheltered from the north, and steeped in sunshine until the sun descends behind the mountains on the western horizon. The return only takes one hour, or one and a half, according to pace. The village of Turbia, which crowns the pass, is a landmark in history. It was the frontier between Gaul and Liguria in the time of the Romans, and there is still to be seen near the road the very interesting ruins of a tower built by the Roman emperor Augustus, nearly two thousand years ago. These ruins show well in what a massive style military works were constructed by the Romans, and are quite worth a special visit. The Genoa road, which skirts the coast, is, as I have stated, equally beautiful. It begins to ascend at once on leaving the eastern bay, passing over the picturesque bridge and ravine of St. Louis. Above this it is positively blasted out of the side of the limestone rock. In cold weather, the invalid should not go beyond the turn or highest point of this road, as there is a cold gorge beyond. But on a fine warm day the drive may be pro- longed along the coast to Ventimiglia, a quaint old fortified town, with a fair-sized snow-formed river, the Roya, which descends along a picturesque and wide valley from the foot of the Col de Tende. Ventimiglia is seven miles from Mentone ; and Bordighera, where the Palm trees are met with in all their glory, is four miles further. On the return, if " imprudently 1 '' made towards sunset, a most glorious view is obtained when the highest part of the road is reached near Mentone. The entire amphitheatre is beauti- fully seen, and the setting sun behind the Esterel mountains reveals their sharp outlines, the isle St. Marguerite at Cannes, and the lighthouse at Antibes, as distinctly as if only a few miles distant, instead of fifty. They are clothed also, in the most magnificent colours, purple, crimson, and red. 176 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. " But lo ! the sun is setting ; earth and sky- One blaze of glory : He lingers yet ; and lessening to a point, Shines like the eye of heaven — then withdraws ; And from the zenith to the utmost skirts All is celestial red/'— Rogers. The drive to Monaco, about five miles along the coast, at the foot of the mountains, is certainly one of the most beautiful in Europe. It winds along the shore following the indentations of the coast; at one moment all but level with the beach, at another rising more than a hundred feet above it. On the land side are mountains, ascending rapidly many hundred feet above the sea, hoar with age, rent and torn in every conceivable shape. Sometimes huge rocks that have been riven from the parent mountain by nature's agencies, hang above the road as if about to fall on the traveller; or they have actually fallen, leapt over it, and lie in wild con- fusion underneath. In one spot, where an avalanche of this kind has descended from on high, there is a rock as large as a small house, arrested in its downward progress by the trunk of an old olive tree. The veteran appears to be bravely endeavouring to stem the descent of its enemy, and so far has succeeded; On the Mediterranean side are quiet coves and bays, where the waves ripple gently on sandy beaches, at the foot of jagged, capriciously shaped rocks, covered with pines and brushwood. They appear indescribably lovely from the road, and inspire the wayfarer with an all but irresistible desire to stop his progress, in order to bathe, or to sit leisurely on the shore watching the play of the briny waters. Both going to Monaco and returning, from early morn to evening, this lovely road is steeped in the glowing sun- shine of the south. Being thus sheltered and in the sun all the way, it can be resorted to whenever the wind does not blow from the sea. Monaco, a little town perched on a rocky peninsula all but surrounded by the sea, is itself very interesting. It is a calm and lovely spot on a fine sunny day, with its pretty little port, all but rock-sur- DBIVES — MONACO. 177 rounded, clear and blue, enlivened only by a few fishing- boats. The railway from Nice to Genoa has now been open for some time, and a small steamer that used to ply between Nice and Monaco has ceased to run. Few will trust to the faithless, capricious deep who can avoid it, and yet on a fine day it is a most enjoyable mode of reaching Nice. The railway from Nice to Mentone was a most difficult and ex- pensive undertaking, and occupied several years. It passes through nine tunnels, and skirts deep bays and indentations of the coast on sea walls and causeways, at the foot of which the sea breaks constantly. The coast is very lovely, and, in my eyes, the railway, convenient although it be, rather mars its beauty. Nature seems to have been wounded, scarred, interfered with in every sense. She will soon, however, obliterate the scars she has received with wild plants and with southern verdure, and then we shall perhaps learn to look upon the line merely as a messenger of progress and civilization. At the time of the annexa- tion the French Government promised to construct a port at Mentone, and is now redeeming its promise; a pier is being thrown out beyond the old Genoese castle. The latter is built on a rock in the sea at the point of the promontory on which the town stands. This pier, although only half finished, already protects and improves the port and anchorage, and facilitates the loading and unloading of the vessels that come to Mentone. Mentone and the village of Roccabruna formed a part of the principality of Monaco from the early Middle Ages. The Princes of Monaco held their small principality as feudatories of Piedmont, and although swept away by the French Revolution, were recognised in their former rights at the Treaty of Vienna. Their authority, however, was harshly exercised, and in 1848 Mentone and Roccabruna made a small revolution in imitation of France, drove the Prince away, and declared themselves independent. The happy independence thus gained, with Arcadian immunity from taxes or conscription, they enjoyed until I860, when the Prince of Monaco ceded his rights over his revolted subjects to the Emperor of France for the sum of 120,000/. N 178 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. Monaco, his faithful city of six hundred inhabitants, he retained as the capital of the diminished principality, under the jurisdiction of France. The old city of Monaco is built on an elevated promon- tory, and from its advancing considerably into the sea, beyond the coast line, it is rather too much exposed to the mistral or north-west wind to be an agreeable winter residence. It was well known to the Romans, is often mentioned by classical writers, and has had a little history of its own throughout the dark and Middle Ages. Its princes have been small kings on their sea-girt rock, and have often waged war,. under the wing first of one powerful protector, then of another. The Sardinians, the French, the Genoese, have all in turn been allies or foes, until at last a real annexation to France has taken place. By a treaty made with that country, the customs and criminal jurisprudence have been surrendered, as well as Mentone. The late French Emperor, however, allowed the Prince of Monaco to retain his gaming establishment, although none were permitted in France, and that when the German Dukes were about to abandon this source of revenue. But the oranges, the lemons, and the oil, are nearly gone with Mentone and Roccabruna, and the Princes of Monaco do not feel disposed, it may be presumed, to abandon the motto imputed to them of old : " Son Monaco sopra nn scoglio Non semino e non raccoglio, E pur mangiare voglio." The temptation afforded by the large income derived from this source was too great to be withstood, and now that all the German gaming-houses are suppressed, Monaco reigns supreme as nearly the only gambling establishment in Europe, and certainly the only one carried on in the princely style of Homburg and Baden in former days. M. Leblanc, the present lessee, has spent an immense sum of money in building a beautiful casino on the model of the one at Homburg, several first-class hotels, and many elegant villas, in the most protected situations. These buildings have all been erected in a picturesque spot, on the DRIVES MONACO. 179 east side of the port, about half a mile from the town. Thus the promontory on which the town of Monaco is perched shelters the new gambling colony, in a great measure, from the north-west wind, to which the town itself is exposed. M. Leblanc is spending regally a por- tion of his income in improvements of every kind — roads, bridges, terraces — and is showing much more taste in his erections, and in the arrangement of the lovely grounds around the casino, than the Mentonians have as yet exhibited. But then his means are very great, for he levies tribute on a large community, the gambling population of Europe. The garden is beautifully planted and laid out, and the terraces facing the sea are covered with shrubs and flowers that flourish and bloom in winter. Certainly, under his auspices, Monaco has become a fairy- land, and it is lamentable to think that so much loveliness should originate in such a source. The band plays twice a day, from half-past two to four, and from half-past eight to ten. It is composed of seventy- four thoroughly good musicians, selected from Germany and Italy, and discourses really " sweet music" in a noble music-hall or ball-room. It is a great treat to listen to so admirably led and so well-trained an orchestra, in this out of the way place, and it is a pleasure we Mentonians can enjoy when we like. The drive takes about an hour at an easy pace, but by rail it is only ten minutes. On a fine sunny winter's day it is a most charming excursion to drive over to Monaco, to lunch at the luxu- rious Hotel de Paris, or alfresco in pic-nic style on the road; to saunter over the gardens, to listen for an hour to the fairy-like music, and then to return leisurely home, before sunset chills the air. The drawback is the idea that always haunts one, that the vice of gambling should be the means of placing these quiet, health-giving pleasures at our dis- posal. I try, when I go there, which I often do for the sake of the flowers and the music, to forget all about it, and with that view seldom or never enter the gaming saloons. I never recommend any one to settle at Monaco, for I can- not but think that the immediate proximity of a gaming table, in the absence of all active occupation, is dangerous N 2 180 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. to many who would never positively seek its excitement and risks. Moreover, the company, male and female, is very bad in the evening. The four o'clock afternoon train from Nice brings daily a crowd of loose characters. The Cap Martin, a semicircular peninsula, covered with an Olive grove in the centre, and a protecting Pine forest on the coast margin, is another charming drive. It forms one side of the western bay, and is a most picturesque and attractive spot. The road branches off from the Nice road near the town, passes through an Olive grove of fine, curious old trees, and then divides into two. The one, after passing by some pretty orange orchards, skirts the shore, fringed with irregular, water-worn rocks, blanched by the waves which the south-west wind drives on them with extreme fury. When there is a storm from the south- west or south-east, it is a magnificent spectacle to watch the sea dashing violently on the sharp, jagged masses of limestone, and breaking into dense masses of foam and spray. At the extremity of the cape, just as the seashore road begins to turn and to ascend, there is a little sheep track, that winds round the promontory, above the sea, at the foot of the steep myrtle-covered cliffs ; and amidst the con- fused, irregular mass of rocks which line the shore there are various little warm and lovely coves. This path is, without any doubt, one of the most delightful spots in the district for the quiet contemplation of nature's sterner beauties. The time to spend an hour or two here is in the afternoon, when the sun, passing to the west, pours its warm rays on this, the western side of the cape. An intelligent survey of the wilderness of rocks will reveal a hundred nooks worthy of an emperor's siesta. The other branch of the Cap road ascends to the higher ground of the promontory, and leads, through lovely woods of Olive and Pine, with a brushwood of Myrtle, Lentiscus, prickly Broom, and Thyme, to some old ruins, said by some to be Roman, and by others to be the remains of a convent. Near them is a telegraph tower, which the electric wire has rendered useless. Both these roads afford at every step magnificent views DRIVES THE CAREI VALLEY. 181 of the Mentonian amphitheatre, of the grandiose moun- tains that form it, and of the bold and irregular coast line as far as Bordighera, some twelve miles off. Bordighera, built on a promontory which advances out to sea in a south-eastern direction, is a very prominent object from every part of the coast as far as Antibes. It gives at a distance the promise of greater beauty than is realized on a closer inspection. The Turin road (see local map) ascends the deepest and longest valley in the amphitheatre — that of Carei, at the entrance of the town. The ascent begins about a mile from the shore. It is for some distance very gentle, until a mile beyond the village of Monti, when it. begins to climb the side of the mountain by a terraced, engi- neered causeway, like one of the great Swiss passes into Italy. This road, only recently completed, reaches the summit of the pass, about three miles from the shore, at an elevation of 2-400 feet. It then passes through a short tunnel, descends and joins the road from Nice to Turin by the Col de Tende at Sospello, the second stage from Nice. The Mentonian amphitheatre is thus now in free commu- nication with the highland regions that surround it, and from which it had hitherto been cut off by its mountain barrier. Supplies of forage, and of mountain produce generally, now easily get to Men tone by road carriage, whereas formerly they could only reach by mules, or round by Nice. Moreover, a beautiful and interesting highland district has become accessible throughout the winter, not only to hardy pedestrians, as heretofore, but to all strangers and invalids capable of prudently leaving the protected regions and of spending a lew hours in a carriage. This part of the Maritime Alps contains many places of interest, many picturesque localities, which can be visited by all but the more confirmed invalids during a great part of the winter. Even the invalid visitor is now able to penetrate beyond the mountain barrier in the autumn, before severe weather has set in, and in the early spring, in April and May, when the reign of winter has ceased in these southern mountains. 182 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. The last named drive is along the Boirie or Cabrole valley. This road, a remarkably good and nearly level one, is about a mile and a half in extent. It skirts a mountain torrent, which occupies the very centre of the Mentone amphitheatre, and which carries to the sea the watershed of a considerable extent of the surrounding mountains. When I first knew Mentone there was no bridge over this torrent, where it throws itself into the sea, near the entrance of the town, and after heavy rains it was some- times so swollen as to intercept all communication for many hours. A new bridge has been built, so that here, at least, travellers will no longer have to wait " until the river runs dry," for we could never say with Horace, " Rusticus exspectat dum denuat amnis ; at ille Labitur, et labetur in omne volubilis sevum. The view of the mountains from this valley is magnificent, for we are at their base, in the very heart of the amphi- theatre. No winds ever penetrate, not even the sea breeze, the valley describing an angle which effectively shuts it out. The railroad station has been erected at its entrance in the midst of lovely mountain scenery. At the termination of the carriage road there is a picturesque olive mill, and beyond a romantic pathway, which extends for another mile, mean- dering among Olive and Pine groves, until it reaches the small village of Cabrole, at the head of the valley. About the centre of that portion of the valley which is occupied by the carnage road the torrent receives a tribu- tary from the west, bringing the waters of one of the prettiest sandstone ravines of the district. It is called the Primrose and Hepatica valley, owing to the presence of these flowers in profusion in early spring. Both the Cabrole and the Primrose valleys are invaluable to the invalids of the western bay, offering a safe retreat from every wind, sunshine, and the most wild, beautiful scenery. Being within half a mile of the entrance of the town, they are as accessible to pedestrians as to those who ride or drive. Strangers have to learn how to enjoy these drives. The plan that I recommend is not merely to drive to a point and then back again, but, once the general features of the DRIVES — THE CABROLE VALLEY. 183 country have become familiar, to make use of the carriage or Bath-chair or donkey merely to reach the most sheltered and picturesque part of the region selected. Then it should be abandoned, in order leisurely to explore on foot the romantic mountain paths and the charming woodland nooks that can only thus be reached. If unequal to such an exer- tion, the invalid can recline in some chosen spot, lazarone fashion, on the ground, in the sunshine. With the help of rugs and cloaks, or of the carriage cushions, a comfortable encampment may be made, in which an hour or more passes very swiftly in the enjoyment of the felicity so eloquently described by Shakspeare in the verses at the head of this chapter. Should even this be too great an exertion, the carriage can be stopped in some exceptionally lovely spot, turned so as for the hood to afford protection from the sun or wind, the invalid made comfortable, and then the valid members of the party can depart for a stroll. No one need be afraid of thus reclining on the ground, as there is an entire absence at Mentone of all animated creatures of a venomous nature, with the exception of mosquitoes. There are, it is true, little black scorpions, but they seem to hybernate in winter, and are only found by those who look for them under the bark of decayed olive trees. In April, not before, serpents appear on very warm sunny rocks and sites, but they belong to the harm- less species of the " collubra/' as in England. No other species, not even vipers, are known to exist. There is a small flat-headed ugly lizard which the peasants consider venomous, and destroy when they find it. I saw one of this identical species in Africa among the ruins at Carthage, and was told by my dragoman that it was decided^ venomous. The Nice naturalists, however, deny that it is so, and say that the popular idea is a fallacy, founded on its really repulsive appearance. The possibility of being thus able to lie, basking in the sun, on the ground or on the rocks, in sheltered sunny nooks, most days throughout the winter, is, I consider, one of the greatest advantages to health that the Riviera offers; not but that it is always prudent to have a cloak, a rug, or 184 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. cushion underneath, and to use a good sunshade or parasol as a protection from glare and wind. By this means many hours may he passed out of doors on most days without fatigue. It is an amusement and a pleasure to look about for these sunny nooks, to find olive trees slanting in the required direction, so as to form a comfortable support to the back. Once found such spots become favourites, and are remembered. After some hours of such repose we rise refreshed, reno- vated by contact with the earth, eat better and sleep sounder. We are like the Titans in former days, the sons of the earth. When fighting with Jupiter they were repeatedly hurled to the earth, their mother, but each time they touched her they were endowed with fresh power for the fight; certainly the allegory conceals a truth. Or, a more modern and "scientific" theory maybe adopted; we may assume that we imbibe directly some of the earth's electricity, her vital fluid, and are thus directly vitalized. Quiet communion with nature is infinitely preferable to long fatiguing drives, and contributes much more to the improvement of health. A carriage used in this way gives an invalid the command of all the most beautiful scenery of the district, and I strongly advise all who can afford it to engage one for the season, the more so as carriages are both difficult to obtain and dear, if' taken for a day or a drive, just as in small country towns in England. Engaged by the month or season they are not more expensive than in Paris or London. A comfortable open carriage, with two horses, can be had, from either Mentone or Nice, for about thirty pounds or guineas a month, including the driver, and all expenses. There are now very tolerable hack cabs, open and shut, standing for hire, at a fixed tariff, opposite the Casino or Club in the town, but their rates are high, and the drivers are difficult to control, as they wish to be employed for the day. An omnibus runs from one end of the town to the other, at stated hours. Horses are but little adapted to the mountainous cha- racter of the country, and are so little patronized that they are not easily attainable. They may, however, be obtained from Nice by equestrians who are stationary long HORSES — DOXKEYS. 185 3 enough, to make it worth their enough, and are strorij while. Donkeys are the usual means of ascent to the picturesque mountain valleys and ridges ; mules are but little used. The able pedestrian commands the entire Mentonian amphitheatre ; but it is not so with the iuvalid, with ladies, children, and the weak generally. The ascents are often winding and steep, the roads mere broken tracks, and were THE DONKEY TT01EAN. it not for the donkeys, much of the most wild and pictu- resque scenery would be all but inaccessible to the invalid population. These animals are numerous, as every peasant, the owner of a few mountain terraces, keeps one as a beast of burden. Donkeys are as peculiarly suited to a rugged mountain district as the camel is to the desert. At Men- tone they are mostly fine, handsome animals, and more than usually docile and good-tempered, probably because they are well tended and treated with affection and kindness, 186 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. instead of with contempt and brutality. The peasants always guide them by the voice, not by blows. It is inte- resting to see the self-possession and security of foot with which they descend the most precipitous paths, at one time sliding, as it were, on their haunches, in steep places, at another skipping like kids, although heavily laden. The donkey women are only the owners of the saddles, hiring the donkeys from the peasants. Hence the necessity of THE DONKEY BOY. bespeaking the donkeys over night, otherwise they are off to the mountains by early morn. The views are everywhere perfectly magnificent. The most beautiful and those that give the best idea of the district are those from the Cap Martin, and from my garden and rocks at Grimaldi. Although in my travels I have now all but encircled the Mediterranean, I have nowhere found any scenery that can be compared to them, with the single exception of the Dalmatian coast, as viewed from Corfu on a fine sunny day. But beautiful as it is, there is not the great variety of mountain heights presented MOUNTAIN VILLAGES— ST\ AGNESE. 187 by the Mentone amphitheatre. I have been told that the sceneiy at Mentone is very like that of Madeira, only at Mentone there are several miles of level coast road along the sea-shore, which at Madeira are wanting. To get a thoroughly good idea of the district the stranger should take the drives which I have described, and then make an excursion on foot, or on a donkey, to the mountain villages of Roccabruna (one hour), Castellare (one hour and a half), Gorbio (two hours and a half), and St a . Agnese (three hours). The first can be reached in a carriage, the others only on foot or on donkeys. St a . Agnese, the most remote, is situated at the summit of the first back ridge. Roccabruna, Castellare, and St a . Agnese are mountain villages, founded by their inhabitants, ages ago, on account of the facilities they afforded for defence. Roccabruna is about 800 feet above the sea ; Castellare 1200, and St a . Agnese 2400. Until a recent period, the adjacent shores, and indeed those of the entire Riviera, were exposed to the constant attacks of the Mahommedan pirates of the south Mediter- ranean. For many centuries it was the Saracens, later the Turks and Moors of Tunis and Algiers, who periodically ravaged these coasts. Their forays were not for wealth, which the poor fishermen and labourers did not possess, but for slaves ; for the women were handsome, and the men strong. To withstand these attacks, the inhabitants of the towns chose defensible situations, such as the steep promon- tories and eminences on which Monaco, Esa, Mentone, Yentimiglia, and San Remo, are situated ; fortifying them- selves also with strong walls. The agriculturists sought safety by perching their villages on all but inaccessible heights, whence they could see their enemies approaching, and where they could easier defend themselves if attacked. There are still men alive at Mentone, who, in the early part of this century were seized on the coast by the Moors, and subsequently lived for years as slaves at Algiers and Tunis. That such should be the case is not surprising, when we reflect that piracy reigned supreme in the Medi- terranean until the year 1816, when Lord Exmouth bombarded Algiers, and that it was not finally extinguished 188 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. until the French took possession of Algiers in 1830. At the time of Lord Exmoutlr's bombardment there were thousands of European slaves in the Algerine galleys. These slaves were mostly natives of the northern Mediter- ranean shores, taken at sea from the fishing boats and sailing vessels, or from the coast villages and towns by sudden forays. At St a . Agnese and Roccabruna there are the ruins of ancient castles. That of St a . Agnese must have been a place of considerable strength. Local traditions say that it was built by the Saracens, in order to keep in subjection the smiling districts which constitute the Mentonian am- phitheatre. Probably, then as now it was a garden, rich in olives, in oranges and lemons, and was considered a desirable conquest by the southern invaders. The castle of lloccabruna is evidently of much more recent date, although it £oes back to the Middle A^es. It recalls to mind the strongholds of " The Rhine Barons," and its possessors no doubt levied black-mail on those who travelled along the coast -road from Nice to Genoa. Although a mere mule track, this road must have been much frequented in .winter in the days when there was not a single carriage road across the Alps, and when winter rendered their snow-clad summits an all but impassable barrier. All along the coast to Genoa may be seen at intervals the ruins of watch-towers, erected in former times in posi- tions favourable to defence, or suitable for looking out. They evidently formed a part of the general system of protection everywhere necessary against the pirates. These towers, the old towns, pressed into the smallest possible space, and surrounded with walls, the villages perched on heights up to which the inhabitants had to toil wearily after the day's labour, all vividly point to times far different to the present. They tell of life passed in constant alarm, of eyes constantly turned with anxiety to the sea, from whence the human hawks were ever ready to pounce on the young, the handsome, and the strong — of hearts torn by the distant groans of relatives in chains in a distant land. Such thoughts have often passed through my mind when gazing MOUNTAIN VILLAGES — THE CASCADE. 189 from some mountain height on the now peaceful scene below. Truly we, of the present day, have much to be thankful for ; our lot has been cast in much happier times. The good old times do not bear examination ; they were, everywhere, days of oppression, rapine, violence, and disease, A waterfall called the Cascade, in the Carei valley, is worth visiting. After rain there is a good fall of water, above a hundred feet high ; tumbling over vast masses of broken water-worn rocks, and forming charming pools. The prettiest road is through Castellare and skirting the lower part of the back range, over which the water de- scends. The return can be made down the Carei valley, by the Turin or Sospello road. It is a favourite place for ferns, and also for picnics. The road from Castellare, a donkey-track, taking the visitor to the centre of the back- ground of the Mentonian amphitheatre, affords many lovely views. The entire distance, there and back, is about nine or ten miles. In the immediate vicinity of the cascade there is a hermit's cave high up in the rock. Its very existence was a tradition until an English sailor climbed up a few years ago, and found some bones, utensils, a half- obliterated inscription, and a date, 1598. Since then it has been repeatedly reached by Scottish deer-stalkers and hardy mountaineers, but not without considerable risk. Indeed, I do not advise any one to attempt it. The view from the castle of Roccabruna is very beautiful, as also are those from Castellare, Gorbio, and St a . Agnese. They are all four mere mountain villages, inhabited by the peasantry who till the upper terraces, a simple, hard-work- ing race, who know but little of the world and of its doings. In these villages the cure, or priest, is the father of the flock, and the great man. From Gorbio to Roccabruna there is a donkey-track over the hills that leads through a very beautiful mountain district, with magnificent views on every side. From this road is well seen, skirting the mountain side, an aqueduct, which brings water to Roccabruna from a great distance. It was completed about twenty years ago. Before that the inhabitants of Roccabruna were very badly off for water., 190 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. and depended all but entirely on their rain tanks. Now they have a good supply from a spring that is never exhausted. Those who are strong and well can go out in all weathers unless the rain fall in cataracts, but the invalid should keep at home when the wind blows hard, even from the south, and when the weather is broken. The detention seldom lasts more than two or three days, and it is a good occasion to write letters, always in arrear from the temp- tation the constant fine weather affords to out-door life. Indeed, invalids should live in weather-proof houses, like bees in their hive. If it becomes cloudy and rains in summer bees will be seen trooping home in great numbers. Every now and then one comes to the door to see how the weather is. If he reports rain over and sunshine they once more sally forth to rifle the flowers of their sweets. So should we do when ill and no longer tit to battle with the elements. Most of the places best suited for excursions are indicated on the map of Mentone, which has been drawn up with great care from the Italian ordnance survey. Let no one, however, imagine, says my friend Mr. Moggridge, " that when all have been visited he has exhausted the beauties of the immediate neighbourhood of Mentone ; on the con- trary, there is frequently an entirely new view to be had within 200 or 300 yards right or left of main paths, while each hill, little knoll, or gorge affords a variety in the scenery, either peculiar to itself, or in combination with the distant country. Passing beyond the limits of the map, the country becomes wilder and more grand, but many of the mountain valleys are rich beyond comparison in agri- cultural products. If ever there was a valley that did ' laugh and sing' it is that of Caiross, a tributary of the Koya. Here in June the rich alluvial soil is covered with abundant crops shouldering one another. Ascending from thence through a tine forest of Chestnuts, Pinus sylvestris, Abies excelsa, A. pectinata, Pinus cembra, and the Larch, a fine extent of grass land is reached, varying in height from 5000 to 6000 feet. This is the eastern arrete of Auteon, and before it has been visited by the mower the blaze of MOON AND STAR LIGHT. 191 wild flowers — many of them beautiful and rare — is almost too much for the dazzled sight. There is one gorge to which I would direct attention, because it is within reach of Men- tone — the gorge of Piaon, one hour's walk from Sospello (Hotel Carenco) on the road to Mollinetto. Two very pretty waterfalls greet you at the entrance : a little further the savage rocks, the broken forests, and the tossing, tumbling river give a succession of views ever charming, ever new, that are excelled only by the great gorges of the Roya. Many rare wild flowers may be gathered here even in the Men tone season."" The moon and stars are much more brilliant on the north shores of the Mediterranean than in our latitudes, owing no doubt to the great dryuess of the atmosphere, to the paucity of watery vapour. It is the same meteorological condition that makes the sunshine so brilliant and the sky so blue in the daytime. Thus the nights, generally, are in- describably beautiful ; the stars shine out with singular vividness, and the planets and larger stars make tracks of light in the sea like the moon with us. When, however, the moon is full, or even partly so, their brilliancy pales before her vivid rays. One of the favourite excursions, with the strong, is to go at night, when the moon is full, along the shore to the St. Louis ravine, as her rays then illumi- nate the deepest recesses of the ravine. I often myself sit at my window and watch the moon rising over the eastern mountains. Long before she appears at the summit of the ridge, the light thrown on the sky is all but that of day, and when she does show herself, each tree and shrub on the mountain brow becomes visible. The "track of light" on the sea is not a mere path, as with us, but a " river or flood"" of light. On one occasion I was sent for to Finale by telegraph, before the days of the railroad, and had to post along the coast on a beautiful night, with the moon at its full. For hours she shed her river of light on the sea, brilliantly illuminating a portion of its surface. I was en- tranced, could not keep my eyes from the stream of silver waves dancing in the moonbeams, and I fully comprehended and accepted a wild Canadian legend once read. A young man disappeared on his marriage night, and was tracked to 192 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. the margin of the great Ontario lake, then frozen and covered with snow. A ball was taking place, and he had suddenly left his bride, his family, and his friends, in the midst of the festivities. He had taken his skates with him, fastened them to his feet on the margin of the lake, and seized no doubt with sudden insanity, had started off in the moon track, for it was full moon. His friends followed his traces for many miles, but were obliged at last to return to save their own lives. Sledges were then procured and sent off, but too late to save him. He was found dead and frozen some twenty miles from the shore ! The language spoken by the peasantry is a ' " patois/" 5 semi-Italian, semi-French, but inclining to Italian. The proprietors and tradesmen all speak both Italian and French, but with them French now predominates, although it was not so when I first knew Mentone. The shop-signs, for- merly Italian, are now French. In feeling, the Mento- nians occupy about the same midway position, although their Italian sympathies predominate. At the time of the annexation they petitioned unanimously to be " left alone/' but their petition was not allowed to see the light. They are rather a handsome race, with Italian features, black hair, and dark eyes. Many very handsome young women are seen. As already stated, Mentone has made a great step in advance since 1 first drew attention to it as a winter sanita- rium. There are now some luxurious and many commo- dious villas to let furnisheci, and more are building. There are also many good first-class hotels and several boarding- houses, and second-class hotels. The rent of the villas varies from two to twelve thousand francs for the winter season. Most of the hotels take inmates "en pension/'' that is, boarders, and the terms for board and lodging vary from eight to twelve or fifteen francs a day, according to the character of the house. The proximity of Nice is a great advantage and resource not only to those who are well and strong, but even to in- valids. By means of the railway Nice may easily be visited between breakfast and dinner, and that without any real fatigue. Formerly, when the Turbia had to be NICE— THE NEW CLUB. 193 crossed, Nice was all but inaccessible to the invalid popu- lation. Nice is a small southern capital, with its Italian opera and French theatre, its daily fashionable promenade and drive, its military band, and its swarm of gaily-dressed people. Most of the northerners who crowd there in the winter are not invalids at all ; they are the cured invalids . of former days, of all nations, to whom the southern winter sun has become a necessity. They are also speci- mens of the more restless of our countrymen and women, Anglo-Saxons, who, after wandering all over Europe for years, settle down at last for the winter at Nice, on account of its social attractions, because it is near home, and because letters reach in thirty-six hours. Our American cousins have also adopted Nice as a winter residence of late years, in great and yearly increasing numbers. Until latterly but few of the tribe of health loungers chose Mentone as a residence. The Mentonians were at first all real invalids, glad to. escape from the gaieties of Nice, as well "as from its dust and occasionally cold winds. Many, however, are becoming attached to this picturesque Mediterranean nook. It is thus beginning to attract mere sun- worshippers, and a- foreign population is gradually growing up, of the same description as that of Nice and Cannes. The inhabitants of Mentone are exceedingly gracious and cordial to strangers, tS&t are doi«g- their utmost, to render the place agreeablejB ' tkem. An elegant Cercle or club has been built in thepeentre t of the town, which is well supplied with newspapers. . It is open to visitors by sub- scription, and contains billiard, card, and- conversation rooms, and a good-sized, theatre and ball-room. On the shore, in the town, there is an esplanade, or sea-terrace, constructed in 18.61, and to* which the name of " Promenade du Midi" has been given. It is intended to continue this terrace as far as the Cap Martin ; when finished it will make a delightful sea-side promenade and drive. Each winter a series of elegant subscription balls are given by the members of the " Cercle," to which the visitors are invited. They are well attended by the French, o 194 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. and also by many members of the English community, much to the gratification of the Mentonians. Various other plans for the improvement of the town and its vicinity are on the tapis. In the town some of the best houses of the principal or modern street are let in apartments, or flats, furnished or unfurnished. These apartments are not .so desirable for a residence as the suburban villas, but they are much more reasonable in price. During the last few years, I am happy to say that a considerable amount of attention has been devoted by the press at home to the hygienic state of southern health- resorts. As 1 consider myself in a great measure the originator of this feeling, being the first author on climate who has made hygienic conditions the chief basis of his researches, I am gratified to find that public opinion is beginning to awaken to these vital questions. One or two writers, however, have described Mentone as even more deficient in this respect than other sanitaria on the coast ; a most unfounded and unfair mistake. So far from this being the case, I do not hesitate to say that the hygienic state of Mentone is much better than that of any other sanitarium between Marseilles and Genoa, not from any peculiar forethought on the part of its inhabitants, but because its population, native and foreign, is smaller. The drainage of large towns involves one of the most difficult problems of modern civilization, one of as much importance to us in our northern isle as to the inhabitants of southern Europe. In the small primitive agricultural towns of the Ligurian coast, and of the south of Europe generally, the want of main drains is not felt. All the inhabitants are usually landed proprietors. Olive and Lemon trees, even in the sunny south, will not bear crops of fruit without manure, and where is it to come from in countries where there is little or no pasture unless it be from the homes of the proprietors? Hence, at Mentone and else- where, before the advent of strangers, the household drain- age was everywhere scrupulously preserved, placed in small casks hermetically closed, and taken up to the terraces on the mountain side every few days by the donkey which DRAINAGE IN THE SOUTH. 195 most possess. There a trench was made round the base of a tree, the contents of the tub mixed with the soil, and the trench closed. Such is the primitive system followed also throughout Corsica and Sardinia outside of the two or three large towns. I have repeatedly been in what may be called feudal residences in the mountains of those lovely islands where no other system is known, and who can say that it is altogether bad ? Is it not deodorisation by earth, the return to the earth of all excreta, the solution in country places of the health question, c: What is to be done with it?" When, however, hundreds, nay thousands, of strangers pour into these little country towns, as they have poured into Hyeres, Cannes, Mentone, and San Remo, where large hotels are built, each containing more than a hundred people, and numerous villas occupied by large families, the state of things alters at once. Main drains, with collaterals, were not constructed before because they we're not wanted. Now that they are wanted, are they the right thing? If made, the only possible outlet is the sea-shore, and a very small amount of drainage thrown into little sheltered bays in an all but tideless sea like the Mediterranean would soon reproduce the polluted shores of Naples. After mature deliberation I have come to the conclusion that for villas and hotels, in gardens of their own, a good- sized cesspool, isolated from the house, with a sound venti- lating air-shaft run up alongside the chimneys to the top of the house, and a good manure pump attached to it, is the best plan to deal with the difficulty. This is what is attempted, but often imperfectly carried out, in these southern villas. Often there is no ventilating shaft at all, or the latter is not air-tight, and thus foul air passes into the house by the closets or through the walls. Then such a thing as a manure-pump is generally unknown. On some fine moonlight night the cesspool is opened, a little tub tied to a long pole is put down, and the contents are laboriously ladled into small casks. In the house in which I reside I made the landlord a present of a manure-pump from Lon- don, and now they do in one hour what used to take them two nights, and with one-twentieth part of the annoyance to the surrounding community. o 2 196 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. This difficulty about drainage follows man everywhere, and possesses as much importance in England as on the Continent. London physicians are constantly sent for into the country to see cases of malignant disease, fever, diar- rhoea, which we know are the result of bad, drainage, and that in elegant country residences belonging to the gentry and nobility. It is a question whether the water out-of- sight-out-of-mind system, which has made us so fastidious on this score, has not done more harm than good. In nearly all modern country houses the closets are connected with what are called "percolating cesspools.". The fluid contents sink into the earth, and the solid alone remain, merely requiring to be cleared away every year or two. By degrees .the soil that separates the cesspool from the water level loses its deodorising power, and the fluid drainage contaminates the water of the adjoining wells. Then come fevers, putrid sore-throat, diphtheria, dysentery, which surprise every one in "so healthy a situation." I believe myself that the only perfectly safe drainage system for a country residence in England or elsewhere is either the old-fashioned garden closet of our farming population, regularly deodorised by earth according to Mr. Mode's plan — a decided improve- ment on the past — or a Roman cemented cesspool with a manure-pump at a distance from the house. From this every day or two an amount of drainage equal to what enters should be regularly pumped and applied to the garden lawn or land. The only way, however, to prevent towns, in such situa- tions as the Genoese Riviera, becoming unhealthy from the drainage of a redundant population is for them to remain small. It is therefore to be hoped that the winter emigrants from the north will disperse themselves over the entire Riviera, finding out and colonizing new sites. One con- valescent hospital, with 300 inmates, on a healthy common, such as that of Walton-on-Thames, may remain, with care, salubrious and health-giving". Put four, with a thousand inmates each, on the same locality, and it becomes a ques- tion whether it would be worth while for them to leave London. The excreta of man are poisonous, and all agglomerations of men tend to breed disease. The fallen ANGLICAN CHURCHES — CEMETERY. 197 soldiers of civilization, the sick and ill from towns, should seek the country, trees, naked rocks, sparsely-inhabited districts. As an invalid myself, I would rather pass the winter in the pure air of Dartmoor than in the contami- nated atmosphere of large, filthy southern towns like Naples, Rome, and Malaga, where the average duration of life is low, where the healthy and vigorous cannot reach the ordinary medium duration of man's existence. By thus colonising a large area, likewise, the element of competition will be brought to bear, and it is the only means of putting an end to exorbitant demands from whomsoever they may come. Mentonli$ as an English colony, may be said to have been founded by the late Rev. Mr. Morgan, an English clergy- man, who settled there with his family at M'entone in 1857. The first English church, the one in the eastern bay, was built by subscription, under the sunerintendence of Mr. Morgan and of myself, and opened for divine, worship in 1863. The Rev. Morant Brock, of Bath, is the present incumbent. .. The fact of this church having been built at an incon- venient distance from those who reside on the [ western side, has led to the erection of another and more elaborate and expensive church in the western bay, under the direc tion of the Rev. W.Barber, late of Leicester. The church is in the early style of the 14th century, and was built by the incumbent's son — Mr. W. Barber. The town of Mentone has presented to the Protestant community a plot of ground for a cemetery adjoining their own. It is situated on the eminence that crowns the old town, where a fortified castle reared its head in former times, the ruins of which may still be seen. It is a peaceful, picturesque spot, and is already the last home of many whose memory is dear to Mentonians. . It has been surrounded by a wall at the expense of the Protestant con- gregations, and a small mortuary chapel has been built, to which the mortal remains of those who have died in hotels can be removed and kept as long as the relatives wish. There is no law, as usually supposed, that renders prompt burial imperative in France. The law only rules that 198 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. no person shall be buried in less than twenty-four hours after death certified by a medical man. But in hotels it is difficult to resist the " custom" of the country, which is in favour of prompt burial. A few years ago Mentone was merely a small Italian town, like the other towns on the Riviera, with but little power to supply the wants of foreigners, and especially of the English, who, wherever they are, expect to be made comfortable. Being accustomed to fare well at home, many of our countrymen when abroad, especially the un- travelled, fall into a state of extreme despondency if called upon to bear with coarse meat, sour bread, and bad butter. Every winter, however, has improved the markets, and now good bread, meat, poultry, eggs and butter, are to be had, although sometimes only with a little trouble and contri- vance. Each winter the supplies have improved in quantity and quality, especially since the railway has been opened. Many of the large hotels get their meat, poultry, and game regularly from Lyons, two or three times a week. The Mentonian amphitheatre itself produces little if anything beyond olive oil, lemons, oranges, and a few vegetables. The only good butter comes from Milan. Butter is made in the mountains, but probably not with the care and scrupulous cleanliness that are indispensable to insure its quality. That produced in the extensive pasturages which surround Milan, is well known all over the north of Italy, and is really very good. It comes by steamer from Genoa to Nice twice a week, and is supplied to Mentone from thence. Poultry reaches from all parts — froni the mountain regions around, from the coast towns, and even from Turin. Many fowls, turkeys, ducks, are brought by the diligence which travels daily beween Turin and Nice, passing over the Col de Tende. Game is to be had, but is expensive, with the exception of hares, which are reasonable in price. Fish was scarce and dear before the railway was opened to Nice. Now it comes in great abundance, by rail, from the Atlantic to Nice, and reaches Mentone in a good state of preservation, once the cool weather has set in. Thus soles, turbot, oysters, are then all but daily obtainable. PROVISIONS. 199 The mutton is furnished by the surrounding mountain regions, and is really good. I have been told by Scotch gentlemen, good judges in such a case, that it is equal to the black-faced mutton of the Highlands. The lamb is killed too young, but is still very tender, and good food for invalids. The veal is also killed young, and is good. The beef is sometimes good, at others indifferent, as it is likely to be in a country where there are no pasturages, and where it must come from a great distance, principally from the plains of Piedmont. As the poor cattle have to walk all the way, along the coast or over the mountains, they are, of course, lean on their arrival, however good the breed, and it would not pay to fatten them. In former days the inhabitants of these regions seem to have been quite satisfied with the flesh of old cows and oxen. The expense of living at Mentone has quite doubled since I have known it, that is, within a period of fifteen years, and is now quite as high as at Nice and Cannes. This is, however, easily explained by the more luxurious style of living, and I cannot say that the inhabitants of Mentone are to blame. House rents have risen very considerably, owing to the demand having been very much greater than the supply, which raises prices all the world over. Many houses are now building, or in contemplation, which will no doubt tend to diminish rents, or at least to prevent further rise. Moreover, the neighbouring town of San Remo, also a good winter station, is beginning to be alive to the money value of foreign residents, and is making great efforts to please and secure them, opening hotels and building villas, which will create a salutary diversion. The cost of living has thus increased, but then the markets are infinitely better supplied, which accounts for the change. As I have been told by Mentonian hotel keepers, the dinners we positively require and exact every day at the hotels and " pensions" are to them festive dinners, which they never dream of unless to welcome friends for a marriage or a baptism. To provide this high standard of food to many hundred strangers, the country has to be ransacked for a hundred and titty miles around ; 200 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. Genoa, Turin, Milan, Nice, are all put under contribution. In other words, our standard of living 1 , and that of our American cousins, is very much higher than that of con- tinental people in general, and especially of the inhabitants of southern Europe. We are so ready, likewise, as a nation, to go to any feasible expense to obtain what we want, that we inevitably double local prices wherever we settle in any number, and that all the world over. As year by year the number of winter visitors and resi- dents increases, their wants and requirements become better supplied ; the invalid population itself partly providing for them. Thus every winter brings invalid professors and artists, willing and able to make themselves useful. There is also a French communal college, the professors of which are all well educated, intelligent men, who teach French, Italian, and classics. For some years there has been a Book Club in connexion with Mudie's, which works very well. New books are received in November and January, and at the end of the season the surplus funds, are employed in the purchase of some of the more permanently valuable works. There is already a very fair collection of modern books in hand, as the nucleus of a library. There are several bankers at . Mentone, and English cheques are received and cashed at once with a proper introduction. The hotel-keepers, landlords, and principal tradespeople also accept cheques from well-known tenants and customers without any difficulty, as they easily get them cashed at the banks. Indeed, at first, this implicit reliance on English honour was carried too far. Cata- strophes connected with the proximity of Monaco have latterly made all parties more careful as to solvability. Mentone offers great attraction to invalided artists, for they can both attend to their health and study their art in midwinter in the open air. The scenery is glorious, and the play, of the sunshine and of light and shadow on the mountains, on the clouds, and on the sea, produces ever- varying effects, which entrance the artist's eye. Sometimes their professional services can be enlisted, and landscape, drawing, and painting classes are formed. THE RESIDENTS — THE VISITORS. 201 A winter passed at Mentone is a drama, a little epitome of life. The place is so small, so separated by its mountain barriers from the rest of the world, and the number of resident strangers is so limited, that a kind of common tie binds them together. This feeling may not extend to the entire foreign community, but it is very strong among the members of the same nation. It is the same feeling of union, of a common origin and object, that exists among the passengers of a ship on a long sea voyage. It does not, of course, include passing strangers, the visitors from Nice, and those who only remain a few days or weeks in autumn and spring, on their way to or from Italy ; they are looked upon as strangers. The Mentonian family is composed of the winter residents, of those who have made up their minds to spend six months in the happy, smiling, Mentonian amphitheatre. In October the question is — who is coming ? In No- vember nearly all the winter residents have arrived, and have located themselves. Friends find each other; unfore- seen points of contact " at home" are brought out, and little groups are formed of intimates, of those who have the same ideas and sympathies. A kind of general notion also begins to get abroad as to who is the invalid in each family, and of the degree of illness. Owing to my recommendations having been followed by my medical brethren in England, very few extreme hopeless cases of illness, in the very last stage of disease, are now sent out, and there are few or no casualties among' the English during the first month or two. But it is very different with the French. By most of our countrymen and women the order to winter in the south is considered a boon, an opportunity of indulging the darling wish of seeing the world, and a real consolation in illness. To the French, on the contrary, it is the last drop of bitterness in the cup of sorrow. The French cling desperately to home, to family ties, and to their own country, in illness as in health, and can with great difficulty be persuaded to leave, however severe their malady. Perhaps, also, their medical men have not the same faith in change of climate that we have. Hence, 202 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. each winter, I see French patients arrive in the last stage of phthisis — so ill, indeed, that their bearing the journey is a subject of surprise. A very few weeks after their arrival the last spark of vital power gives way, and they fall, like autumn leaves before the first blast of winter. They are gathered to their fathers, and the first wail of lament arises on the southern shore, where they have arrived only to die. Among the peculiar sights and ceremonies that meet the eye of a stranger on his first arrival in an Italian town — and Mentone really is Italian — none is more striking than the funerals of the dead. The male community is all but divided in two fraternities, that of the " Penitents Noirs," and that of the " Penitents Blancs." The former dress in a black gown, the latter in a white one, reaching to the feet, and with a girdle round the waist. They also wear a cowl of the same colour drawn over the head and face, leaving only the eyes to appear. They follow the priests and choristers, the former in full canonicals, two by two, to the number of fifty or a hundred, with a taper in their hands, chanting the psalms for the dead. Every one they meet stands still and takes his hat off. The appearance of the whole procession is very weird and imposing, not to say ghastly ; it is a homage paid by the living to the dead ! Then comes the close of the year, Christmas, with its home associations, and the new and wondrous sight of summer sunshine and Lemon blossoms, of large dragon- flies, and of other insects, pursuing each other in the sun, instead of the sleet and snow and gloom which we remember, and of which we read, in the fatherland. Sometimes, how- ever, snow tips even our mountains, and reminds us of home. But the contrast is then all the more striking, between the snow-crowned mountains which girt us, and the summer sunshine and summer vegetation by which we are surrounded. Later, comes the new year, welcomed at Mentone as in France, and the festivities of the Romish Church. Lent, the Holy Week, the Carnival, are all cele- brated according to the traditions of the Middle Ages, in a very picturesque manner, by the native population, as in the large towns of Italy. WILD FLOWERS. 203 About the month of February the English community in its turn begin to suffer. Some of the invalids have struggled in vain for health and life. Change of climate, medical treatment, the devoted affection and tender care of friends, have in vain battled with the angel of death. His approaches although slow have been sure, and this life has to be abandoned for a better. These deaths cast a gloom on all the community. The departed have endeared them- selves to the survivors; they have lived amongst them, they have shared their joys, their sorrows, their exile feelings. The loss is felt to be a common loss ; it is that of the pas- senger who has lived for months in the same ship, sat at the same table, walked the same deck. At last March and April arrive, the glorious southern spring, the real spring of the old southern poets, of Homer aud Anacreon, of Horace, Virgil, and Lucretius. Our own northern poets, unconsciously imitating their Greek and Roman predecessors, describe spring as it is seen in Greece and Italy, not as it occurs in our boreal climate. Hence the feeling of irritation we all experience when every year with us spring arrives, and instead of balmy zephyrs and sunshine, with a profusion of Flora's companions, it only brings cold, biting north-east winds, often with sleet and snow and a frost-bound soil. At Mentone, with the exception of a few days of south wind and rain in March, the poetical spring has arrived. The Olive and Orange terraces are enamelled by nature with real garden flowers, and day after day troops of visitors, principally English, may be seen returning from mountain excursions, iiower laden. I would, in passing, earnestly request visitors not to pay the children and the donkey-women for seeking and bringing them flowers. Some of our more wealthy residents do so occasionally, without reflecting that by thus acting they are giving a market value to wild flowers. The result has been felt already. Peasants, who formerly delighted to allow children and strangers to gather the violets and flowers of no value whatever to themselves, begin to guard them jealously, and to drive off all who attempt to pick them. Were this to become general, half the charm of 204 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. the mountain walks would be destroyed. I would also urge on all not to pull up flowers by the roots, or to allow children and servants to do so; and not to wantonly destroy and deface flowering shrubs, or to pull up rare Ferns not wanted for preservation. Otherwise the moun- tain valleys and terraces will soon become, in all accessible regions, a wilderness, and grow nothing but the vegetables sown in them. One of the great charms of a residence in the more sheltered region of the Riviera is that wild flowers, as we have seen, may be found throughout the winter. At the same time, until March has arrived, they do not grow with such profusion as to take away from the pleasure of searching and finding. It is singular that the love of flowers should characterize the two extremes of life, early childhood and advancing years. Between the two there is a stage of feverish interest in the world and its doings, that generally takes the mind away from the observation of nature and her works. The child cares not for kings or empires, for ambition or its toys, so it pours out its love and enthusiasm on " wild" flowers. The old, who have gone through all the pleasures and excitements the world can give, often return to the joys of their childhood, to nature's productions, and cultivate with love "garden flowers," in the company of which they find, a partial solace for all they have lost or failed to gain. It has been said, truly, that a love of flowers and of their cultivation is "the last infirmity of sober minds.''' Fortu- nate it is that such should.be the case, that as we advance in life even plain matter of fact people should find some earthly joys that do not pall, for age is often " weary to bear." We have to abandon, one by one, those who fostered and cherished our early steps, who shared our hopes and fears, who sympathized with us in our success, were pained by our failure. It is the penalty we must pay for living, to lose those with whom, life has been wrapped up, to find ourselves abandoned in our earthly pilgrimage in sad succession by those without whose companionship life itself often becomes hard to bear. As we advance in life we are like a regiment of soldiers THE END OF THE SEASON. 205 storming a well-defended fortress on a hill. Oar comrades fall at our sides, and above the din of battle sounds the voice of the officer, calling', " Fall in, Serrez les rangs." So we do fall in, until if we get near the summit, but very few of those who were with us at the start remain at our sides. The sorrowing friends of the departed are gone. The survivors, improved both in health and spirits, are more keenly alive than ever to the harmonies and beauties of the sea, the sky, the mountains, and the earth. Plans for the future, which earlier in the winter appeared too uncertain to be contemplated, are once more taken into consideration, and the journey homewards is thought of. Moreover, Nice then sends to Mentone troops of healthy, pleasure-seeking people, strong, gay, and happy. They are merely anxious for novelty and mountain excursions, and desirous to escape the March winds, more trying with them than with us. Then comes the ' comparing of routes for the return home, of plans for the summer, and finally the leave-taking and departure. Most are sorry, at last, to leave the little sunny Mediterranean nook where they have spent many happy hours, and it is to be hoped recovered health, or at least arrested the progress of serious disease. In many cases more friendships have been formed than would have been formed in years at home, and the new and valued friends have to be abandoned as well as smiling Mentone. In many instances, however, the separation, both from friends and Mentone, is only a temporary one ; there is the hope of again meeting. To the physician, however, who practises in such a locality, among such a community, there is a bright side to departure. It closes an era of pain, of sorrow, of suffer- ing witnessed, alleviated it is to be hoped by his efforts, and certainly shared through sympathy. Away from country, family, and friends, the tie between the physician and his patients becomes very close, very strong, much more so than at home. Their social as well as their phy- sical sufferings and trials thus find in him a sympathetic echo, and his part becomes doubly trying. The actively 206 MEN TONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. engaged physician is truly a stormy petrel. Where there is health and happiness, mirth and joy, he does not appear ; he has not the time, he is not wanted. His ministry begins when ill-health and sorrow show themselves As in the old fable he is always rolling stones up the hill ; once, however, the stone has reached the summit, it does not necessarily roll down again ! If he has to descend, it is to fetch a new stone, not the same ; so that, after all, he is better off than poor Sisyphus. I am profoundly conscious that one of my principal motives for perambulating the Mediterranean in April and May, like Ulysses of old, during the last fifteen years, has been to recover, by communion with nature, from the depression of feeling produced by six months' concentration of thought on sad forms of human suffering. The remedy succeeds. Every year I return to my English home " rejoicing," ready again to encounter the battle of professional life. Such is Mentone, physically and materially. I was so pleased with my first residence there that I should have at once decided on returning the following winter, had it not been for the love of change, which impelled me to search for a still better climate. This desire for change is a feature in the invalid population met with in the south of Europe. Change of scene is in some respects beneficial in its operation, by giving the mind fresh objects of interest, by taking the thoughts from self, and from the many sacrifices which health exiles from home, and their companions, have to make. The difference between the smiling sunshine of a Mentone-winter, a mere long English autumn, and our six months' dismal season is very great, and yet there are few of the cheerful Mentonian exiles who would not gladly return to our cloud-obscured island at any time, were it prudent and possible. The search after an unimpeachable climate, however, is, in some respects, like that for the philosopher's stone, for the elixir of life, or for the quadrature of the circle — a fruitless one. This will be exemplified by my travels in the Mediterranean and its islands, as detailed in the subsequent chapters. CHAPTER VIII. WESTERN ITALY— THE TWO RIVIERAS— EASTEEN ITALY. " Italy, how beautiful thou art ! Yet I could weep — for thou art lying, alas, Low iu the dust ; . . . . — But why despair ? . Twice hast thou lived already ; Twice shone among the nations of the world, As the sun shines among the lesser lights Of heaven ; and shalt again. The hour shall come Wheu they who think to bind the ethereal spirit Who, like the eagle cowering o'er his prey, Watch with quick eye, and strike and strike again If but a sinew vibrate, shall confess Their wisdom folly." .... Rogers' Italy. Although pleased with uiy first winter at Mentone, I was anxious, the folic wing* autumn (I860), to find a still better climate, and, like most invalids, I thought I might as well see the world, and thus combine pleasure and profit. Like most invalids, also, I wavered between many places. As long as pulmonary consumption was considered a species of inflammatory disease of the lungs, a warm and rather moist winter climate was considered right for consumptive sufferers. But now the more enlightened members of the medical profession know that tubercular disease of the lungs is in reality a malady of the blood and of the digestive system, a disease of lowered general vitality, and that death can only be avoided by the renovation of the general health. What I had to look for, therefore, was a dry, sunny, mild winter climate, in or near Europe, presenting advantages as great, if not greater, than recently discovered Mentone. I therefore determined this time to turn my steps towards Italy, and to critically examine the Eastern Riviera, Pisa, 208 THE EASTERN RIVIERA. Rome, Naples, and the more southern coast of Italy. Guided by a previously acquired personal knowledge of the country, by the information obtained during the preceding winter, and by the reports of other observers and writers, I felt sanguine as to rinding in Italy an " Eldorado" com- bining all the advantages of which I was in search. In former days, in the days of health and strength, Italy exercised over me, as over all those whose minds are imbued with the history of the past, an indescribable fasci- nation. Several' times I escaped from the busy scene of professional life, and rushed to visit its cities and plains. Its classical, historical, and artistic souvenirs and attrac- tions threw over it a charm that never palled. I then purposely threw aside the physician, in order to see nothing but ruins, battle-fields, paintings, and statues. Sickness and human decay appeared a profanation, and I strove to forget them, so as to bring back none but pleasurable re- miniscences. Naples was the southern city, lying on the lovely bay where rises fire-crowned Vesuvius, where the revealed cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii, Baise, the Islands of Capri and Ischia recall a thousand recollections. Rome was the former queen of the world, the cradle of Christianity, still studded with innumerable vestiges of its ancient grandeur. Florence was " La Bella Firenze" of Dante, the home of the Medici, the abode of countless artistic treasures. Pisa was the birthplace of Galileo, where the lamp that first revealed to him, when a youth, the laws of the pendulum is yet to be seen oscillating in the glorious cathedral. Whilst Genoa was the proud commercial city of former days, still grandly overhanging the sea it once ruled, still full of monuments and palaces. This time the scene had changed. I returned to Italy an invalid in search of health, and the arts sank into insignificance, whilst hygiene, climate, and health ques- tions ruled the day. With views thus altered, dif- ferent impressions were produced, and important medical facts became -evident, which, as a tourist, I had not perceived. I entered Italy by Mount Cenis, and although it was GENOA. 209 only the 20th October, there was a great deal of snow on the mountains, and it was very cold in the higher regions. Indeed, the weather was much too cold for chest invalids, who, if they cross the Alps should do so earlier. Genoa is not so much a medical station as a resting-place for travellers and invalids entering or leaving Italy. Its situation is admirable, at the angle of the gulf formed by the eastern and western Rivieras, protected by mountains, and exposed to the south-western sun. Hence it is very warm in summer, but in winter the protection afforded by the Apennines is incomplete, owing to a " defect in its armour." Behind Genoa the Apennines present valleys, through which the railroad from Turin has managed to find its way, and through which also the north-east wind reaches the town when winter has fairly set in on the plains of Lombardy. Still the protection is sufficient to make the climate perfectly different to that of these plains in autumn and. spring. On the 22nd of October there was a heavy cold fog when I left Turin, which continued until we reached the mountain passes, completely obscuring the horizon ; winter was everywhere, the trees leafless, and the soil denuded. The fog had left us when we emerged from the first tunnel, and the air had become clear, dry, and bracing. On escaping from the last tunnel, near Genoa, we had gone back to midsummer ; the sky was blue, the sun bright, the air warm, the windows and doors were -wide open, and the outdoor life of Italy was in full operation. It was indeed difficult to believe that half an hour — the passage by a tunnel through a mountain — could be attended with such a change in the aspect of nature. Genoa presents two great disadvantages ; it is a densely populated city, and, like all Italian towns, badly drained, and unhvgienically built. In all large towns in Italy, Turin excepted, the streets are very narrow, generally only a few feet wide. The object was no doubt twofold : firstly, to provide for the exigencies of fortification, and secondly, to exclude the sun, the summer enemy. The towns and villages now found in the south are all historical ; there are no cities like the busy thriving Lancashire marts, the p '210 THE EASTERN RIVIERA. product of manufacturers' activity in modern times. The towns and villages are those of the Middle Ages, and as such circumscribed within walls and fortifications, and perched upon heights for protection, just as they were hundreds of years ago. Such a style of architecture is proverbially unhealthy, especially in the south, amongst a population to whom the cleanliness and the exactions of modern civilization are as yet but little known. To crown the whole, the principal hotels at Genoa are on the port, the receptacle of what drains there are, and tideless, as are all ports in the Mediterranean. Owing to the above causes, although to the traveller one of the most picturesque and interesting towns of the Mediterranean, the native city of Columbus is not a healthy abode. The invalid, therefore, had better not prolong his stay, unless he have the command of a garden- surrounded villa in the suburbs. In the hotels it is better to choose the higher stories, as the higher the rooms occupied the purer the air,' and the less likely is the occupant to suffer from atmospheric impurity. I must remark, that throughout the Continent the traveller, ill or well, should leave the window more or less open at night, the air of the staircases and passages being all but invariably very impure, even in the best hotels. If the window is not opened at night, the bedchamber is supplied from this vitiated source, foul air is breathed, and typhus fever often generated. I believe that the numerous travellers who every year mournfully die all over the Con- tinent of " gastric fever," as it is amiably called, away from home and relations, are mostly poisoned in this way. If the window is even slightly opened, pure air is admitted, instead of the foul air of the passages, and this danger is avoided, or at least diminished. Pure air can do no harm, night or day; night air is only injurious to those who expose themselves to it out of doors, without sufficient clothing, or in bad or delicate health. Descending the eastern Riviera, the first town or village of any importance is Nervi, a station much esteemed by the physicians of the north of Italy for consumptive XERVI — CHIAVAEI SPEZZIA. 211 patients. Nervi is better protected than Genoa by the mountains, which approach nearer the coast, and being small, principally composed of one long street along" the shore, it is free from the hygienic objections to which Genoa is exposed. Nervi does not, however, appear to me to present any peculiar recommendation to strangers. The vegetation is that of the entire Hiviera coast, and does not indicate an exceptional climate. The position is not peculiarly picturesque, and I believe the accommodation to be found is essentially Italian, which does not in any respect satisfy the English. There is, however, a boarding and lodging-house, under the direction of an English physician of Genoa, principally supported by the English. The proximity of Nervi to Genoa and Turin appears to be its principal recommendation. .Chiavari, the next town, is situated along the sea-shore, in pretty much the same conditions as Nervi, and presents no feature calculated to arrest attention. Sestri, further on, is an exceedingly picturesque town, on the margin of a small bay, and at the foot of a high spur of the mountain chain, which runs into the sea. But it faces the north-east, and is screened from the south by the spur in question, so that it loses all claim to be con- sidered a winter sanitary station. The road, which gradually becomes very bold and pic- turesque, then crosses the mountain, and descends on Spezzia. I had retained from former travel a very high idea of the beauty of La Spezzia, and was quite prepared to make it my winter residence had I found the climate bear scrutiny ; such, however, was not the case. Toe town is situated at the foot of a magnificent gulf seven miles in depth, bordered on each side by mountains of con- siderable height. The mountains also extend far inland behind, but they are not sufficiently high to intercept the north-east winds. As a necessary result of this mountain- surrounded situation, at the base of a deep, narrow gulf, there is a great deal of rain throughout the winter, and the weather is often rather cold, as shown by the vegetation. Moreover, there are marshes of considerable extent at the P £ 212 THE EASTERN RIVIERA. foot of the hills which surround the town, and in the autumn malaria is rife. The gulf itself is very lovely, and contains on both its shores several pretty villages, much more sheltered and picturesque than the town. Thus Lerici, about five miles from Spezzia, on the southern shore, lies cosily in a small bay, at the foot of a sloping hill six hundred feet high. At the southern extremity of the bay, on a high promontory, are the well-preserved remains of a strong fortress, the Castle of Lerici, celebrated in mediaeval history. It be- longed to the family of Tancredi the crusader, and Francis the First of France was confined there, after being made prisoner at the battle of Pavia. There is still a lineal descendant of the great Tancredi living in the village, but he is merely a small peasant proprietor, no longer the owner of even the ruins of the proud castle built by his ancestors ! On the other side of the promontory which forms the north side of the bay is a factory for smelting lead, princi- pally supplied from the lead mines of Sardinia. It was formerly managed by an Italian company, and proved a losing concern. It then passed into the hands of an English gentleman, a friend of mine, and under his ener- getic direction it has become a most valuable property. I passed several days with him and his family at his hos- pitable villa on the brow of the Lerici hill, overlooking the pretty bay, the gulf, the islands at its entrance, and the opposite coast. Under the guidance of his amiable daughters, who brought up partly in Italy partly in England unite the most pleasing characteristics of both nations, I boated, roamed about on the olive terraces and in the Ivy and Lycopodium clothed lanes, lay discoursing, musing on the beach, or pic-niced among the ruins of the castle, until I thoroughly understood the love of Shelley for this smiling spot. The house that Shelley occupied is on the shore close to the sea, near the village. It is a square old-fashioned Italian villa, which, with its surround- ings, must have thoroughly suited Shelley's poetical medi- tative temperament. The local tradition is that his death MASS A CARRARA — PISA. 213 was not the result of an accident, but that his yacht was purposely run down by some piratical fishermen for the sake of what booty they could get. During these few days I thus had an opportunity of narrowly surveying the vegetation of the locality, one of the most sheltered spots of the eastern Riviera. I found it the same as that of the western Riviera, but with differences that indicated a lower temperature in winter — more frost. There were no Lemons, the Orange-trees were small, and only in the most sheltered corners; and Helio- tropes, fancy Pelargoniums, delicate Cactacese, were not living and flourishing out of doors. Still it is a very lovely spot, and I left it with regret. No doubt the comfort and charm of the Anglo-Italian nest into which my good fortune had led me contributed to this feeling. Between Spezzia and Pisa there is only one spot worth mentioning, and that is Massa Carrara. The town is small and clean, open to the south-west and protected from the north-east by the high mountains in which the marble is worked. The Orange-trees appeared larger and healthier than on any part of this coast. It must be an exceptionally good winter station for the eastern Riviera, and there is a good, clean, comfortable hotel. But it is a dull little place, having no view of the sea, although near it. Neither here nor anywhere else along this coast did I see the luxuriant Lemon- groves of Mentone. Indeed, the protection afforded by the mountains which form the backrgound of the Men- tone region is infinitely superior to anything met with along the eastern Riviera between Genoa and Pisa. The vegetation is, consequently, more southern, and indicates a much higher degree of winter temperature, at and near Mentone. This time I examined Pisa attentively under the climate and hygienic point of view only, and left it with a most unfavourable impression, thoroughly confirmed by subse- quent visits and experience. Pisa is situated in an open plain, some miles from the mountains which protect it. This plain does not show the slightest evidence of southern vegetation ; it does not even contain the Olive-trees so 214 WESTERN ITALY. common along the coast and on the adjoining 1 hills. No- thing is seen but the dry mop-headed deciduous Mulberry, with Vines, like old ropes, trailing from them. The town is surrounded by a very high wall, which must impede ventilation ; the streets are narrow, sunless, damp, and cold. The far-famed Arno, which passes through the city, forming an arc, is a mere ditch or moat, like the moat of an old fortified town in the north of France, with stones instead of grass, and a sluggish dirty stream meandering at the bottom ; it is in reality a mere species of open main- drain. The quarter of the invalids is a quay on the bend of this moat river, about a mile long, and bordered by gloomy third-rate houses. Here they are condemned to walk up and down, looking at the stones and dirty water below them, occasionally swollen into a yellow tor- rent by the rains. The sunless streets are so chilly that chest patients are seldom allowed to go into them ; the country around is a mere dull, denuded plain, which even a southern sun cannot enliven. Moreover, it is often very cold at Pisa, more so than at Home, there are often fogs on the Arno, and it rains constantly in winter. To crown all, Pisa is an unhealthy town to its inhabitants, like Genoa, Florence* Home, Naples and all these ill-built, ill-drained, dirty, wall-cramped southern cities. The average duration of life is twenty-nine years at Pisa and Florence, and twenty-eight only at Home and Naples ; whilst in Paris it is thirty-nine, and in London forty-four. For corrobo- rative evidence on these points I w 7 ould refer to the chapter devoted to Pisa in Dr. Canere's highly esteemed work, entitled " Le Climat de 1' Italic" All experienced physicians attach extreme importance to the influence of the mind over the body. A cheerful, happy frame of mind favours the digestive processes, tends to promote sleep, and thus counteracts the influence of disease. The dreary, cheerless monotony of stones and mortar at Pisa, with its ditch river, must exercise a most unfavourable influence on invalids exposed to it for month after month. Once the magnificent cathedral, the far-famed leaning tower, and the Campo Santo, or cemetery, have been explored, there is literally nothing for the invalid to do. FLORENCE. 2 1 5 There is, it is true, the university, where many learned and celebrated professors hold forth, but its scientific collections and its lectures are only interesting to students, or to men of scientific and literary tastes. Even to th'em I question whether the university would not be a snare instead of a boon. Indoor work of any kind, mental or bodily, and close ill-ventilated lecture- rooms, they should avoid. Lounging botanical or geological rambles, or such reading as can be carried on sitting out in the open air, should aione be allowed. When the present pages were first written (1860) a rail- road along the eastern Riviera was not even thought of. Now (1874) it is an accomplished fact, from Genoa to Pisa, with the exception of the mountainous region between Sestri and Spezzia, where there is a break, soon to be filled. Those who are travelling for pleasure should, however, reject the allurements of the rapid railway journey, take a comfort- able vetturino carriage, and sleep one or two nights on the way, say at Sestri and Massa Carrara. The sea-coast, mountains, and roads are very lovely; indeed, the scenery by road is only a degree inferior to that of the western Riviera. On the railroad the exquisite beauty of nature is all but entirely lost; for the line is constantly either passing through a tunnel or over hi^h viaducts. Some of these viaducts will bear comparison with the high level bridge at Newcastle-on-Tyne, and are not much more fascinating. No one who has merely travelled along this coast by rail can have the faintest idea of its real beauty. At Sestri I had to take a carriage to cross a spur of the mountain, which here runs down to the sea, and the change was an inexpressible relief. Once more I experienced for a few hours all the delight of old days' travelling, as we ascended picturesque hills, winding along their sides, and rapidly de- scended by zigzag roads into precipitous ravines. I was sorry when we reached Spezzia, where the rail had to be resumed. From Spezzia the road to Pisa leaves the coast, and crosses the plains of Tuscany ; it is not, therefore, of so much importance what style of travelling is adopted. Florence is not a winter residence for invalids; it is a mountain town, and much too cold. From Pisa you pass 216 WESTERN ITALY. through thirty miles of valleys and mountains to reach it, and once there, you are surrounded by mountains on every side, many of which I have seen covered with snow early in November. The north wind, or tramontana, is also very trying to invalids when it blows, which is often the case. In 1872—^3 skating was continued for a fortnight on the frozen Arno. Rome is a winter residence for healthy tourists, not for invalids; malaria reigns there, more or less, all the year. Every winter it makes victims, even among the healthy, and the medical practitioners who have been settled there for years say that malaria fever complicates, more or less, nearly every form of disease, slight or severe, that occurs, even during the winter months. When the north wind — the tramontana — blows, which is not un frequently the case for several days together, it is very cold. Moreover, invalids should scrupulously avoid churches, galleries, vaults, cata- combs, festivities, and parties — and what is Rome without these, the life of the Eternal City ? — merely a temptation and a snare. I may add that all that has been said about the defective drainage, and general unhealthiness of Genoa and Pisa equally applies to Florence and Rome. Thus I had to continue my pilgrimage, and started from Civita Yecchia for Naples. I did not intend to remain there, but to go on to Salerno, the celebrated medical school of former days, which is near and admirably situated. I also wished to carefully examine the bay of Gaeta, of the smiling and all but tropical luxuriance of which I had retained a very pleasing recollection. These plans, however, were not to be carried out. I once more saw the bay of Gaeta, it is true, but under circumstances which made any exploration an impossibility. Many years previously, after making a pleasure tour in Italy, and visiting Naples for the first time, with unclouded delight, I started for Leghorn in an old steamur called the Virgilio. It was a beautiful autumnal afternoon, and the magnificent bay of Naples was perfectly calm, like a mirror. As we steamed gently past old Vesuvius, the classical coast of Baise, and the beautiful Island of Ischia, we all remained on deck, entranced with the glorious scene. On passing out A STORM— GAETA. 217 of the bay the bell rang for dinner; no one dreamt of being ill, and we all sat down, a merry English party, for nearly all were English tourists returning to fatherland. But alas ! unconscious victims to Neptune, we knew not that the September equinoctial gales were due, that the barometer had fallen half an inch that afternoon, that the captain and seamen were anxious, and that we were destined to dire torments. When we reached the deck again the scene was already changing. The sea and wind were rising, and before nightfall we were in one of the worst storms that had been known for years. Our steamer was old and slow, not able to accomplish more than six knots an hour in fair weather. With the wind all but dead against us and a raging sea, her performances were anything but satisfactory. In twenty-four hours we only made about a hundred miles, and the storm continuing with unabated fury, and our fuel being all but exhausted, we had to turn about, to retrace our steps, driving before the wind, and to make for the port of Graeta as a refuge. Gaeta we eventually reached, to our inexpressible satis- faction, about seven o'clock in the evening of the following day, and fondly hoped that we were at the end of our troubles. But in this we were very much mistaken. The port is a military port, and according to the rules of those days, at 6 p.m. all communication with the shipping ceased. So strictly was this rule enforced, that although thus driven in by stress of weather, with women and invalids on board very ill, we were not allowed to land. Provisions and coals were even denied us until the opening of the port the next morning, and until orders from the Government at Naples, twenty miles distant, had been received. We were thus obliged to spend the night riding with one anchor in a perilous, exposed anchorage, with fires out for want of fuel, and in great danger of being blown out to sea and dashed against the rocks. As to provisions, if received, but few could have done honour to them. By ten o'clock next morning orders had been received from head-quarters to allow the "very dangerous crew' - ' of the Virgilio to land, so boats were sent to the ship, and a file of soldiers were drawn up on the beach. We were then 218 WESTERN ITALY. landed between two rows of the soldiers, and marched off on foot, like so many convicts, to the town hall to have our passports overhauled. The storm was over, the sun shining* gloriously, aud by this time, after a forty-four hours' fast, we had become ravenous, and implored our military escort first to take us to a cafe, for breakfast. Our entreaties and objurgations were, however, all in vain. We were, I presume, considered dangerous people, vile liberals, revolutionists, not to be allowed to come in contact with the loyal inhabitants of Gaeta. We were therefore dragged ruthlessly before the "authorities," thence taken in the same military, or convict, style to the gates of the town, bundled into carriages, and, with a soldier on each box, driven to Mola di Gaeta, a village at the bottom of the bay. Here we arrived at midday, and, free at last from our escort, were allowed to repair the wants of nature. This repast was, I think, even more mirthful and pleasant than the one we had partaken of some forty-eight hours before in the bay of Naples. We were all sick of the sea, and separated to find 'our way homewards as best we could. I and two of my companions determined, as a compensa- tion for past hardships and dangers, to make a comfortable and leisurely progress. We got a carriage from Naples, and posted all through Italy, merely travelling between brtakfast and a late dinner. This most enjoyable journey from Gaeta to Chambery has remained in my memory, marked with a white stone. The weather was lovely, the country glorious, my companions cheerful, witty, and pleasant, and every now and then the sight of our late enemy the sea added a very delightful sense of security to cur enjoyment of the scene. I may add, that from that moment I became a most irreconcilable enemy to King Bomba of Naples, of whose hospitality to shipwrecked travellers I had had such a charming illustration. Since this memorable expedition I have often made coasting voyages in the Mediterranean, but I have never again been caught in an actual storm. Firstly, I avoid the proximity of the equinoctial gales; and secondly, I carry an aneroid barometer with me, and consult it for two or three days before I embark, with the assistance of Admiral GAETA — THE SIEGE. 219 Smyth's and Admiral Fitzroy's instructions. If the state of things is at all suspicious — that is, if the barometer is falling- gradually — however fine, I remain on shore. I have thus several times avoided severe storms which I should otherwise have encountered. On the present occasion we had left Civita Vecchia overnight, on one of the French steamers, for Naples. At five o'clock in the morning we were awakened in our berths by the steward, who told us that the steamer had run into Gaeta with despatches for the French fleet, and that it was worth while going on deck. We all dressed rapidly, and when we reached the deck a sight met our eyes which can never be forgotten. We were in the well-remembered bay, the haven of former days, and I could have fancied that I was still in the YirgiUo, at anchor, before the small pro- montory-crowned town. The night was clear and starlight, and so illuminated by a moon nearly full, that every feature of the mountainous coast came out clearly, as it had done during the dreary night-watch in times gone by. But the scene was very different, for one of the great events of modern Italian history was being enacted before us. My former inhospitable host, Ferdinand the First, of inglorious memory, was dead, after suffering in his latter days, through dire disease, some of the agonies he had inflicted on so many innocent political victims. His son and successor, Ferdinand the Second, as a retribution for his father's misdeeds, was cooped up with the last remnant of his army in the fortress of Gaeta, then before me. Gaeta crowns a rock several hundred feet high, which terminates a promontory, the northern limit of the bay and port of that name. The walls, the forts, the houses and the churches, built of white stone, shone in the calm moonlight. There were scarcely any lights to be seen, and the town appeared calm and asleep, as it were. But we knew that few of its inhabitants were asleep that night, lor great events were taking place. Thousands were lying sick with fever and dysentery within its walls, and it also contained a king at bay, surrounded by a terror-stricken court — a king whose crown was escaping from his feeble hands. 220 WESTERN ITALY. At the foot of Gaeta, on the promontory that connects the town with the mainland, were many bivouac fires. They indicated the encampment of some thousands of royal troops, for whom there was no room in the town, and whose presence served to protect it. Then a mile of darkness, and beyond, nearer the curve of the bay, glared in the dark a more extended collection of bivouac fires, covering the shore and hillside to a considerable extent, and indicating the presence of a much larger body of troops. These con- stituted the Sardinian army besieging Gaeta. In the bay, a few hundred yards from us, lay a number of French men-of-war, brilliantly illuminated. All their portholes were open, and from each porthole proceeded a blaze of light; the guns were shotted, and the gunners were beside them ready to fire. A mile or so beyond the French fleet, thus prepared for battle, we could perceive another dark mass, formed of large ships, with but few lights ; this was the Sardinian fleet. We were gazing with astonishment and interest at this dramatic scene, when a boat, manned by six sturdy seamen, left the French admiral's ship, and rapidly approached us. Several per- sons came on board our steamer, and we soon learnt the meaning of what was passing. The previous day the Sardinian army had left Mola di Gaeta, and made a vigorous attack on the Neapolitan army in front of Gaeta. The Sardinian fleet had entered the bay, advanced along the coast, and supported the land troops very efficiently by its fire. The army of King Ferdinand, and the fortress of Gaeta itself, were placed in great jeopardy by the combined attack of the Sardinian land and naval forces, when the French admiral intimated to the Sardinian admiral the order to stop, threatening to fire and sink his vessels if he advanced. It was to support this threat that the preparations we saw were made; the gunners had been at their guns all night, ready to fire had the Sardinian fleet advanced. This extraordinary and uncalled-for step on the part of the French caused the greatest astonishment throughout Europe ; it arrested the progress of the Sardinians, and was the means of delaying the fall of Ferdinand II. for several months. We carried the NAPLES — THE CHTAJA. 221 news to Naples, where it appeared to excite an all but universal feeling of alarm and indignation. Naples exhibits the concentration of all the unhygienic conditions previously alluded to. More than 600,000 southerners are living in an extremely confined space, in high houses, in damp sunless streets, and the drains all run into the tideless sea. In the most fashionable part of the town, in front of the houses and hotels occupied by the nobility and by strangers, is a narrow public garden, the fashionable promenade, " the Villa Reale," running for a mile along the shore. On this shore eight public drains empty themselves into the sea ; the largest of these drains is opposite one of the chief hotels, and is often so offensive that those who are alive to these questions feel inclined to take a run in passing. On the land side of the Villa K,eale is the main drive, or street, " the Chiaja," and on each side of the pavement, as in most other streets, there are large slits in the road every few feet, a foot long and about an inch broad, to allow the rain-water to escape into the drains, which thus freely communicate with the exterior. It is between these shore drains on the one side, and the drain-ventilated street on the other, that fashionable Naples daily promenades, and it is by the side of this choice region that nearly all our countrymen live, and not un frequently die. The picturesqueness of Naples life, closely analysed, is in a very great measure that of filth and rags. The pic- turesque fishermen pass their lives fishing at the mouth of these sewers. The picturesque lower orders eat, drink, and sleep, as it were, in public, windows and doors open, if they have any. Many are clothed in rags, which they appear seldom to take off until they fall from them, and they are infested with vermin, which they scratch off each other at the street-corners. The town, moreover, is sur- rounded by pestilential marshes, and is built on a tufa rock, or kind of pumice-stone, so porous that it lets the rain soak in twenty feet, to give it out in dry weather by degrees. Thus, in winter, moss grows wherever the sun does not reach. A few days after my arrival in November, the autumn 222 WESTERN ITALY. rains commenced with a warm oppressive scirocco, or south- east wind. The torrents of rain that fell in the first twelve hours washed the streets and drains of their accumulated abominations into the sea. The waves and the surf, on the other hand, drove them back again and again on the shore, whilst the wind, rushing* up the drains, escaped through the rain openings in the streets, and through the open closets in the houses. The smell throughout the entire lower part of the city was awful, and a considerable portion of the population was at once affected with abdominal pains, diarrhoea, and even dj^sentery. I was one of the first victims, and after nearly three weeks'' suffering from the latter disease, I abandoned all idea of exploring Salerno and the South of Italy. I had only one idea, that of returning as quickly as possible to pure, healthy Mentone. I therefore embarked on a Genoa steamer as soon as I was equal to the voyage, and as soon as the barometer showed me that it was prudent so to do — through its friendly aid escaping a violent storm — and reached Mentone safely. There I remained during the rest of the winter. To conclude, however, about Naples and its bay. They are most fascinating to mere healthy tourists, for they are hallowed by associations and beauties of the most varied character; but to the invalid, Naples should be absolutely forbidden. Even hardy, healthy tourists may hesitate about a prolonged residence. They should, also, rather choose the more elevated regions of the city than the fashionable Chiaja. The defective sanitary arrangements are not the only drawbacks. When the wind is in the north-east, the Apennines in that direction are so low that it passes over them, they become covered with snow, and the cold is intense. When it veers to the south-east — the scirocco — on the contrary, the heat becomes intense, and the air, being loaded with moisture from the sea, is very oppressive. These extremes, following each other very rapidly, are most trying and unhealthy. The north-west, or mistral, also frequently blows into the bay with great violence, and is a trying, dangerous wind to invalids throughout the Mediterranean. Castellamare and Sorrento NAPLES AND ITS DANGERS. 223 being turned to the north-west, receive this bitter wind in full. They have been much recommended of late years as safe winter residences, but the recommendation is an error, founded on occasional and exceptional fine weather. These localities are the summer residences of the Neapolitans, because they are turned to the north. It was not, however, without regret that I abandoned Naples. Notwithstanding illness and suffering, I was beginning to feel the influence of its usual fascination. During illness, also, I had reperused Andersen's sun-im- pressed history of " the Improvisatore," and Lamartine's poetical tale of " Graziella, the Maid of Ischial" The wish became strong again to visit Pompeii, again to explore the Orange clad hills of Castellamare and Sorrento, to sail over the lovely blue bay to Capri, to the azure grotto, and to Ischia. Indeed, it required a strong mental effort to drag me from the Circean allurements of Naples back to quiet Mentone, where no great deeds have been done, where we must be satisfied with the charms of nature, and where the monuments are merely those of the earth's early career, in pre-historical ages. At that time also the great and glorious political events that characterized the foundation of United Italy were being accomplished, and Naples was a centre of intense interest. The king, Victor Emmanuel, made his entrance into Naples as I was becoming convalescent, and daily passed under my windows (Nov. 1861) ; the entire popula- tion were wild with joy at their deliverance from the Bourbons, and at the regeneration of their native country. I saw, likewise, the Italian hero, Garibaldi, and that under circumstances so creditable to him, that I cannot refrain from mentioning them. After conquering Sicily with his one thousand followers, and after his triumphant progress through the South of Italy from Reggio to Naples, he had come over to that city to see his friend, the king, and insisted on remaining incognito. He felt that the positive adoration the Neapo- litans entertained for their deliverer would have led to demonstrations of such an enthusiastic character had he shown himself, that the king would have become quite 224 WESTERN ITALY. a secondary personage. He therefore went to an hotel, like a private individual, and refused during his twenty- four hours' stay to receive any deputations, or indeed to allow his presence in Naples to be made known. Naples, however, heard of his advent, and the entire city was wild to see him and show him honour. I happened to visit that very afternoon the English reading-room, which was kept by two English ladies. I found them in the ante-room, standing and conversing with two gentlemen, one of whom was Gari- baldi — a mild, amiable-looking man, of middle height, with nothing of the fire-eater about him. In a few minutes he took his leave, and the ladies then told me that they had known him intimately for many years, and that that morning he had sent word that he would come and lunch with them in private. True to his word, he came at the time appointed, and remained two hours in their little homely parlour, eating fruit, conversing, and singing songs. This little trait shows the amiable simplicity and warm- hearted faithfulness of the hero. When all Naples was anxious to fall at his feet, and the king of his making was waiting anxiously to load him with honours, he preferred devoting his afternoon to the society of two humble friends of former days. If the fascination exercised by the bay of Naples is so great that the invalid tourist cannot possibly tear himself away, I should recommend him to make the island of Capri his head-quarters. The island is of limestone — a healthier geological formation than the soft tufa rock of Naples. The population is small, the scenery interesting, and there are several hotels where tolerably comfortable quarters may be obtained. Then there are no marshes, and the air is constantly purified by the sea-breeze. The Naples physicians are in the habit of sending conva- lescents there, and with the best results. In fine weather there is daily communication with the mainland by boat and steamer ; but in winter, in bad weather, the commu- nication is sometimes interrupted for weeks. The isolation is then nearly as great as that of Garibaldi at his island home of Caprera. The island of Capri is a picturesque mass of rocks, nine CAPRI — TIBERIUS. 225 miles in circumference, and two and a half in width, situated at the outside of the bay of Naples, twenty miles from that city, two miles from the eastern cape of the bay, ten miles from the western cape, or Cape Miseno, and forms a species of amphitheatre facing Naples on the north. It is a very lovely little island, jagged and irregular in outline, a perfect chaos of rocks, and a charming residence for a month or two in early autumn or in spring, but not for midwinter. The northern exposure of the island and its distance from the protecting Apennines, leave it without defence against the northern winds. Friends and patients who have wintered there all agree that they had a great deal of rough weather to encounter, much more than on the Riviera, owing to the complete absence of protection from the northern quarters. Its southern shore is a precipi- tous rock many hundred feet high. Capri is full of recollections of Tiberius the Roman emperor, who passed the last ten years of his life there, indulging in every species of debauchery and crime. Up to his elevation to the empire, at the mature age of fifty- five, Tiberius had been known only as a great warrior and statesman, as a wise, virtuous citizen, as a good husband and father. Then, singularly, at an age when even vicious men often abdicate their vices, Tiberius, under the in- fluence of a kind of moral insanity, threw himself headlong into every species of cruelty and sensual indulgence, and that in such a shameless manner as to raise the indignation of even this depraved age (a.d. 14). Capri, where he retired, apparently the better to give untram- melled scope to his cruelty and passions, retains to this day the impress of his presence. The ruins of his palace, of his prisons, and of his baths are still shown. Above all, the memory of his nearly unparalleled vices remains as a kind of pall over the beautiful island. It still lives vividly, after nearly two thousand years, in the memory of the peasant inhabitants, Dr. Bishop — then the leading Naples physician, now practising in Paris — told me the history of a countryman, which is not only interesting, but points out a danger — a hidden rock on the path of the convalescent phthisical 226 WESTERN ITALY. patient, and therefore deserves to be rescued from ob- livion. This gentleman came to Naples as a confirmed phthisical invalid. Although in an advanced stage of disease he rallied, and apparently regained his health. Unfortunately he became desperately attached to a very handsome young Italian girl, below him in social rank. Unlike the hero of Lamartine's beautiful tale of Gra- ziella, he married the object of his affections, and retired with her to live at Capri. This unwise step, however, involved him in many painful and trying ordeals. The storm of human passions had also been roused in an unsound constitution. It was the leaky ship going to sea, and exposed to the tempest and to the hurricane. Disease returned, and made a rapid progress, and as this time nothing could arrest it, his existence soon terminated. Leaky vessels should remain in port, where, like Nelson's old ship, the Victory, they may long ride with dignity on the smooth waters that surround them. The battle of life — its storms and tempests — must be left to the young and to the strong. The convalescent phthisical patient should ever recollect that he bears within him the seeds of death, that his disease may return any clay, that he lives on sufferance, and should act accordingly. The actual truth should be known, courageously recognised, and thoroughly accepted. As I have previously stated, the impression made upon my mind by the sanitary survey of the principal health towns of Italy was unsatisfactory in the extreme. The authors whose works I have read on winter climates have, it appears to me, made an extraordinary, but all-important omission. They have studied winds, sunshine, cloud, temperature, protection, and all the various elements which constitute climate, forgetting hygiene. And yet, are not the laws of hygiene of more importance to the invalid than all the rest put together ? Of what avail is it to place a patient suffering from a constitutional disease, such as phthisis, in the most favourable climate condition, if every law of hygiene is violated — if he is made to live in the very midst of badly-drained, badly- ventilated towns, such as Florence, Home, Naples, Valencia, SOUTHERN TOWNS UNHYGIENIC. 227 or Malaga ? In these unhealthy centres of southern popu- lation, where the mortality is habitually very high, amongst the healthy natives, much higher, as we have seen, than in our most unwholesome manufacturing localities, what right have we to expect the general health of our patients to rally ? In reality, it would be as reasonable to send consumptive patients in the summer months to live in the worst parts of Whitechapel, Liverpool, or Glasgow, as it is to send them in winter to live in the centre of these unhealthy southern towns. In former days, when the laws of hygiene were ignored by the medical profession as well as by the non- medical public, when fevers and plagues were merely studied and treated as inscrutable dispensations of Divine wrath, it was, perhaps, excusable for writers on climate to devote their undivided attention to meteorological questions. But now that the mist and darkness have been dispelled, that typhoid fever, dysentery, and other town diseases have been traced to their causes — filth, defective ventilation and drain- age, — we know that attention to hygiene is even more necessary for the recovery of health than for its retention. In choosing a winter residence, therefore, hygienic con- ditions should be first considered, even before warmth and sunshine. If we are to be guided by such considerations, however, I must candidly confess that I have not yet seen a large town in the south of Europe (the health quarters of Nice and Pau excepted), the hygienic state of which is such as to render it a safe winter residence for an invalid. In most of these towns, moreover,— towns such as those I have just named, — the positions selected for and devoted to invalids are central, and owe their protection in a great measure to buildings, which secure to them the town atmosphere undiluted. Thus are explained the frequent deaths from "fever" amongst our countrymen, ill or well, residing in them, which we every year see chronicled. On the spot you are told that they have died from the fever of " the country/' But this fever of the country, as far as I can gather from minute inquiry, is no other than our own old enemy, typhoid, under a continental garb. Its characteristic Q 2 228 THE WESTERN RIVIERA. features may be modified by some malarious or catarrhal element^ but the type is the same. The cause, too, is identical in the Italian marble palace and in the St. Giles's hovel — foul air inside and outside the house — everywhere. Having failed to discover any more sheltered spot than the Mentone amphitheatre, in the eastern Riviera, and in Western Italy, I determined, on leaving Genoa, to minutely examine the western Riviera, along which there are many populous towns and villages. Each successive station — Savon a, Finale, Oneglia, San Remo, Yentimiglia — w r as ex- amined, and abandoned as inferior,- until 1 once more found myself in the well-remembered site of my previous winter's experience. The conviction which this journey produced, that the Mentone amphitheatre affords superior protection to any to be found between it and Pisa, on either Riviera, is at once explained by reference to the maps in this work. On no part of the coast do the mountains in the imme- diate vicinity rise in a chain to the same height — namely, from 3500 to 4000 feet. Nowhere do they recede in the same manner from the shore in the form of an unbroken amphitheatre, so as to completely shelter from the north, east, and west a hilly district such as the one which consti- tutes the centre of the Mentone region. Nowhere also is there such a background of still higher mountains lying due north, so as to protect in its turn the semicircular shore chain. This background of mountain-land extends fifty miles to the north into Savoy, and is limited only in that direc- tion by the Tenda, a chain which rises from 7000 to 9000 feet. These higher mountains extend towards the shore in a south-easterly direction, and reach it at Finale, more than half-way between Nice and Genoa. Between Genoa and Finale the mountains which skirt the shore are neither very deep nor very high ; between Finale and Nice the depth and height of the northern mountain-land constantly increase. Consequently, the amount of protection offered from the north increases in the same ratio, until at Mentone the greatest amount of protection and shelter and undoubtedly the warmest climate of the entire Riviera are reached. The various towns which skirt the coast are generally placed at the mouths of the rivers which form their ports, SAN REMO. 229 and the rivers of course empty themselves from valleys which break the mountain-line. These valleys being nearly always directed north and south, or thereabouts, most of the towns are placed in the coldest situations on the coast, at the entrance of breaks in the mountain- chain, down which the cold winds blow. A glance at the vegetation shows this : Orange-trees retreat, and Olives and Pines take their place. Here and there, as the road winds along the coast, sheltered nooks and romantic little bays are seen at one's feet, where the Orange and the Lemon, the Cactus and the Carouba-tree, seem to thrive luxuriantly, finding the same warmth and shelter as at Mentone. But in these exceptional corners there is gene- rally no population — scarcely a house ; the traveller can only admire and pass on. Again, in the Riviera towns the inhabitants are thoroughly Italian ; they still live on maccaroni, olive-oil, soup, and bread, rarely indulging in meat, and ignore entirelv the multitudinous wants and requirements of our "difficult- to -please"" countrymen. These towns will have to be raised to a much higher civilization level before they can be adopted as winter residences by invalids. I am persuaded, however, that in the course of time their day will come. An exception may even now be made in favour of San Remo, which participates in the special protection met with at Mentone. San Remo is a town of some importance, about fifteen miles east of Mentone. It has 11,000 inhabitants, and many houses on the outskirts of the town that might be made agreeable to strangers. Moreover, it is in Italy thoroughly Italian, and the Italian language is spoken, although not with great purity. The example of Mentone, the fact that land in the Mentonian amphitheatre has decupled in value within the last ten years, has awakened the proprietors of San Remo to the great money value of the northern invalids. Several new and comfortable hotels have been built, and a number of villas have also been erected for strangers. Although less picturesque than Mentone, and fifteen miles further from Nice, a great drawback, San Remo deserves the patronage of winter emigrants. The climate is the same 230 THE WESTERN RIVIERA. as that of the western bay at Mentone, and no doubt all who do well at the one would do well at the other. I had hoped that it would be less expensive, but I do not find that there is much difference. Nor do I think there will be at any of the Riviera towns, once they have been galvanized up to the standard required as a minimum by strangers. The expense of building, of furnishing, and of obtaining provisions from a distance, must be pretty nearly the same everywhere. Competition, however, is wholesome, and those who meet with no accommodation to. their taste at Nice and Mentone, who wish entirely to avoid the pleasures, blandishments and snares of Monaco, or who are anxious to be actually on Italian soil, may safely pass on, and try San Uemo. As the English colony increases the accommodation will surely improve, as it has improved at Mentone, and as it improves in all continental towns which are patronized by our comfort-loving conntrymen. Bordighera, four miles from San Remo, and eleven from Mentone, is a source of interest to all travellers, as the scene of the adventures of Dr. Antonio. The pro- montory, on the summit of which it stands, juts out into the sea, so as to form a very conspicuous and picturesque object all along the western coast, as far as Monaco and even Antibes. It appears less picturesque, however, on a near approach, and turns out to be merely one of the small eramped-up Italian towns, of which there are a score along the coast, all very much alike. The suburbs present nothing very interesting, with the exception of the far-famed Palm groves. In these groves, which surround the town on all sides, thousands of Palms are growing with truly Oriental vigour and luxuriance, and give a very Eastern character to the landscape. They are of all sizes, from a few feet to above a hundred, and of all ages, from a few years to a thousand or more. In the garden of the French Consul, more especially, are to be found noble and majestic speci- mens of this beautiful tree ; many of them he told me were more than a thousand years old. The spot on which they are situated was the garden of a monastery of Dominicans, in very bygone days, more than a thousand years ago. It THE PAL^I GROYE AT BORDIGHERA. BORDIGHERA — THE PALM GROOVES. 231 was these monks who introduced and planted the Palm-tree in the district. Many of those existing were actually planted in this, the olden time, by the monks, of whom not a trace, not a vestige remains, with the exception of these their favourite trees. The accompanying wood engraving will enable the reader to form some little idea of the Oriental character of the scene, which is well worth a passing visit. The Bordighera Palms, however, are not so beautiful as those of Elche in Spain, or of the African desert, owing perhaps to their leaves being generally tied up. Bordighera supplies Rome with Palms for Palm Sunday, and as the fashion is for them to be white, the leaves are thus artificially blanched. It is this fact, the monopoly of the supply to • Rome, that explains the existence of the Palm groves ; they can be cultivated profitably at Bordighera and nowhere else. They would grow on any part of the more sheltered regions of the Riviera, from Nice to Finale, but then their cultivation would be altogether profitless, as they do not ripen, their fruit on the north shore of the Mediterranean. It is possible that the siliceous sand that comes down the valley of the Roya from the Tenda mountain, and forms the alluvial sandy flat between Ventimiglia and Bordighera contributes to the health and well-being of the Palms. Although they certainly will grow in calcareous soils, I have always found sand, both in Europe and in Africa, in the soil of the regions where they thrive and are the most luxuriant. The Bordighera Palm groves being only eleven miles distant are a favourite picnic resort of the Mentonians, and most of us have pleasant recollections connected with their stately shade. There are two hotels at Bordighera ; and several villas as also an English church have been built. The latter is the gift of a resident, Mrs. Fanshawe. Four miles further we come to Ventimiglia, at the mouth of the Roya valley. It is a town of seven thousand inha- bitants, formerly fortified, and is interesting as a specimen of Riviera towns unmodified by strangers. Situated at the mouth of a wide valley opening north, Ventimiglia is not, and probably never will be, a health station. It is, how- 232 THE WESTERN RIVIEHA. ever, one of the favourite drives from Mentone, and between the two stations there are many lovely sheltered nooks and corners, on the coast line and on the hills above. They will eventually be colonized by those who, making a southern settlement, want space, a few acres of land, with- out paying the fabulous price now asked in the Mentone amphitheatre. Thus we gradually get back to little Mentone in its smiling amphitheatre of hills, the view of which is nearly as beautiful when we descend to it from the east as when we descend to it from the west. Mentone was built, like all other Italian towns, for the purpose of defence, and is no exception, therefore, to the Riviera rule. Most of its older streets are sunless lanes, a few feet wide, but the visitors have nothing to do with them, and never need enter them unless it be to gratify curiosity. It is, however, cleaner than the great Italian towns, owing to the great value of the refuse. The people — an industrious race — have to cultivate the rocky terraces, and have no pasturage, no cattle but donkeys and mules. They husband their manure, therefore, with jealous care, and let none escape into the sea or elsewhere. This remark applies also to all the villages and towns on the Riviera. Thus, neither the land nor the sea are poisoned as in the larger towns of the Mediterranean coast, unquestionably one of the great health advantages of small localities. It is worth all the ruins and art treasures of Italy to the real invalid, with whom the main point is to save or prolong life, not temporary artistic or social pleasure and amusement. The Genoese Riviera ceases, geographically, at Nice, the Brighton of the Mediterranean. But Antibes, Golf Juan, and Cannes may be said to belong to it meteorologically and botanically. They are sheltered from the north-west wind or mistral by the Esterel, from the north by the mountains behind Grasse, from the north-east by the higher ridges of the maritime Alps. The vegetation is the same as in the Riviera, but with a difference as to degree. The protection being incomplete, the winds are stronger, and in cold exceptional weather the thermometer CANNES — HYERES. 233 falls lower. Cannes is now an established favourite, one of the most flourishing English winter colonies on the Medi- co o terranean. Crossing the Esterel we come to Hyeres, near Toulon, long the favourite winter station for invalids on this coast. Hyeres is half a degree, thirty miles, more south than Cannes or Mentone. The sun is as powerful, the summer heat as great, but then the mountain shelter is less even than at Cannes, so the mistral or north-west wind often blows with violence in autumn and spring. Hence the tide of invalidism and fashion now sets eastward. It is still, however, much patronized by the French, and by some of our older physicians, true to the partialities of their younger days. In some cases Hyeres has an advantage over all the coast towns we have named on the Riviera. It is three miles from the sea, so that persons to whom the proximity to the sea is disagreeable or pernicious may here take refuge, and still enjoy in winter the advantages of the sunshine and atmospheric dryness of the north shores of the Mediterranean. It is worthy of remark that as facilities for travelling have increased, the winter migration of invalidism has descended more to the south and to the east. When communication with and on the continent was difficult, our own sanitaria and Madeira, so accessible by sea, answered the purpose. As travelling facilities increased, Montpelier, Pan, Hyeres, Nice, Cannes, successively became favourites. Owing to the impulse given by this work and my teaching, the Genoese Riviera has been invaded, and colonized by the tribe of invalids. But the move- ment will not stop there ; when the Indian mail crosses from Salonica in Thessaly to Alexandria in forty-eight hours, and there are steamboats and comfortable hotels on the Upper Nile, a proportion of the well-to-do invalids will no doubt every year get up nearly as far as the upper waters of that no longer mysterious river. EASTERN ITALY. As I have already stated, the great political, pleasure, and health cities of Italy, Genoa, Pisa, Florence, Rome, 234 EASTERN ITALY. Naples, Salerno, are all on the west side of the Apennines, and thus sheltered from the north-east winds. The Genoese Riviera belongs to this the western or protected half of Italy. Bologna belongs to the rich plains of Piedmont and is on the high road from thence to Florence. South of Bologna there are no towns of any importance in a political, artistic, or health sense, for Ancona, Bari, Foggia, Brindisi, Taranto, cannot be considered such. I had long wished to explore the eastern division of Italy, but had always gone with the crowd south and west, until the spring of 1872. Starting for an eastern tour, and having to embark at Brindisi, I resolved to make a leisurely progress through the Adriatic provinces of Italy on my way south. I was anxious to learn by ocular demonstration how these provinces fared in spring without the protection which the Apennines afford to the western coast. I may safely assert that all, or nearly all, that has been written about the climate and vegetation of Italy applies only to its western or protected shores. The eastern or unprotected Adriatic provinces, are seldom visited by tourists, and seldom even alluded to by the authors of travels in Italy. So it has been for ages. Italy has lived in history, in science, and in art, on her western shores. I left Mentone April the 16th. The vegetation on the sheltered and sun-warmed shores of the Genoese Eiviera, at Cannes, at Nice, at Mentone, at San Remo, was that of the south of England at the end of the first or second week in June. Spring flowers were over; the Banksian and Bengal Roses had been some time in full bloom, as also the Lemon trees. Hybrid Roses and the Orange trees were rapidly coming into flower ; deciduous trees, Planes, Oaks, Figs, were rapidly coming into leaf; Willows had long been in full leaf, Vines were about to flower. It was quite summer. At Genoa vegetation was nearly as far advanced as with us, but on passing out of the Apennines into the flat plains of Piedmont, which are exposed to the northern blasts rushing down from the Alps, too distant to protect them, a change came over the spirit of the BOLOGNA. 235 dream — we went back six weeks. There was not an Orange, a Lemon, a Palm, or even a Fig tree to be seen. The Poplars, Willows, and Vines were just beginning to show their first leaves, the Mulberry trees were naked, the Cherry and Hawthorn in flower; cereals were two inches from the ground, and rather yellow, as if they had recently been exposed to severe cold. Moreover, there was a cold north-east wind blowing, such as I had not once felt during the winter at Mentone. It was evident that in these Piedmontese plains the actual frosts of winter must be severe, and that, owing to the absence of protection, winter is prolonged far into spring. This cold north-east wind and the dust it raised pursued us to Bologna, where I was glad to take refuge. Here I heard that the previous winter there had been several feet of snow in the streets, which remained for weeks, and that the ice on a canal with a rapid stream, which runs through the town, was more than a foot thick. Nor is this surprising when we look at the map, and see that Bologna is in the plains of Lombardy, at the foot of the eastern slope of the Apennines, with nothing whatever to protect it from the north-east blasts that blow from the snow-cohered mountains of Styria. So Bologna is in- tensely hot in summer, from a latitude similar to that of Mentone with its Orange and Lemon trees, and is intensely cold in winter from exposure. Although 7° further south than England, it appeared to me to have about the same vegetation ; we must, however, except the Vine and Maize, which the extreme heat of the southern summer ripens. The Vine and the Maize do not get with us the four months' sun-heat they require to ripen their fruit; our Sep- tember is too cold. Below Bologna (April 19), as going south we receded from the high mountains which limit Italy to the north, the cold north-east wind seemed to be losing its power, and vegetation was more advanced. The Poplars were in leaf, the Mulberry and Acacia trees showed small leaves, as did the Elms; the Vine shoots were two inches long, cereals three inches above the ground, and healthier looking; elms seemed principally cultivated to support the Vines. They 236 EASTERN ITALY. are allowed to grow some six or eight feet, and then made to divide into two, three, four, or five branches or forks, on which as many shoots of a Vine are trained. The Vine planted at the foot is not trained round the tree — probably that it may not, later, strangle it — but carried straight up one side to the point where the branches divide, when one shoot is tied to each branch of the tree. Often shoots are carried in festoons from one tree to another, and as the trees are planted in rows, about forty feet apart, the effect in summer, when they are covered with fruit and leaves, must be very picturesque. Might we not make use of Vines trained on trees merely for their foliage ? Their power of all but indefinite elongation, would thus have fair play, and an Oak or Elm covered in summer with Vine leaves up to the summit would look very well. There were neither Fig, Olive, Orange nor Lemon trees. We passed through a flat, well-irrigated, carefully cultivated but most un picturesque country, bounded on the western horizon by low hills, the dying slopes of the Apennines. Bologna is about forty miles from the Adriatic, and the railroad strikes the sea some sixty miles to the south. It then skirts the shore until Ancona is reached. Ancona, although a town of considerable commercial importance, being the emporium of Italian trade in the Adriatic, is out of the track of tourists, and even of travellers for the east. The latter all but invariably pursue their journey by night train to Brmdisi. It remains therefore in the dead- alive state of most purely Italian towns. The streets are narrow, the shops poor, the hotel accommodation very bad, fifth-rate, although there are fine docks and warehouses ; so I was glad to be off early the next day. The rail from Ancona to Brindisi skirts the shore all the way, except when crossing the base of a promontory after reaching the town of Vasto. Proximity to the sea does not, however, seem to promote a milder climate, as on the western coast. Probably the Adriatic is colder than the Mediterranean, from the coldness of the northern rivers that run into it. Moreover from its narrowness the cold north- east winds have not time to get warmed by contact in crossing, so the shores are bleak and desolate, much more ANCONA TO BRINDISI. 237 so than the country immediately below Bologna, No doubt away from the sea, in sheltered valleys, at the foot of the Apennines, are nooks in which vegetation is more southerly; but all along the shore, in the vast plains we traversed, bounded on the far-off western horizon by low hills, all was still bleak and winterly until we reached Vasto, on a parallel line with Rome. Previously we had seen a few small Fig trees, struggling for existence in back yards, or in gardens surrounded by high walls, as we see them in our own country, say at Ryde, Isle of Wight ; but they never seemed able to boldly take to the open country. These immense plains were principally covered with cereals, or lying fallow, not a head of cattle was to be seen, and no farmhouses. The native population evi- dently stagnated in sparse villages and towns, with little evidence of civilization around them except handsome churches. It is clear that in Southern Europe, in the Middle Ages, all the savings, all the superfluous wealth of the country, must have been devoted to building and embel- lishing churches. On no other ground can we explain their number and magnificence in countries which must have been then even more wretchedly poor than they appear to be to-day. That may be one reason why capital did not accumulate in those days, and take other directions, as it does now. I asked travelling companions how these immense corn plains were manured, and the answer was that they were not manured at all, but allowed to remain fallow, and to recover themselves by " natural processes/' These companions were principally local gentlemen, few and far between, who got into the carriage to travel from one town to another. I contrived, by diligent cross-ques- tioning, to get a deal of information from them on the subject of their native districts. It became clear to me that the passage of the railway through these little- frequented regions, and the amalgamation of all Italy into one kingdom, " Italia Unita," has given a great impulse to civilization. It has increased the value of land and of its products j it has raised the wages of labour, and is powerfully stimulating the intellect and resources of all classes in this part of Italy. My Italian fellow-travellers 238 EASTERN ITALY. were full of schemes for the advancement and regeneration of their native provinces. A few years will, most assuredly, inoculate the entire population with ideas of progress, and work wonders in the welfare of these eastern regions hitherto so apathetic, hitherto left behind in the progress of Italian civilization. Such was the opinion also of an English gentleman who, like myself, was going down to Brindisi, and was my principal companion during a long day's journey. He was an engineer, residing at Sydney, in Australia, had been away two months from home to do a little business in England, had accomplished it, and was on his way back. The little business was merely this. He was connected with a railway in Australia, for which capital and labour were required. So he had left Sydney three months before, had crossed the Pacific, landing at San Francisco, the American continent by rail, and then the Atlantic. In London he had raised the money he required, engaged 500 navvies, shipped them off in two vessels, and was on his way home, where he expected to be within six weeks. He showed me photographs of his wife and children, living, say Adelaide Terrace, Sydney, and talked of this journey — in which, like Ariel, he had put a girdle round the earth — as calmly as if it had been a mere excursion from London to Dublin. I could not help thinking that a dozen of men like him in sleepy Ancona would soon revolutionize the place, and make a very different city of it. Below Vasto, on crossing the base of the promontory, we came upon some moderate-sized Olive trees. Here and there we passed through patches of uncultivated ground, sandy, siliceous, which was covered with the same vegetation as the maquis or brushwood in Corsica — Cistus just beginning to flower, Juniper, Lentiscus, Ferula, Asphodel, Ilex, Cork, Oak, but no Mediterranean Heath. At Bari, which is parallel with Naples, a branch line goes to Taranto. I had long wished to visit this city, it looks so very tempting on the map ; sixty miles (one degree) south of Naples, turned to the south-west, and sheltered from the north-east by a semicircular mountain range. I quite expected to find an unknown southern Eldorado, TARANTO — BRINDISI. 239 but was disappointed. The mountain range only rises 1000 feet — not enough to give complete protection from the north-east winds, even in this southern latitude, and the full exposure to the south-westerly winds is clearly a disadvantage. Still, some striking and interesting facts were developed in this slight ascent and short journey. On leaving Bari, at the base of the low range, W e crossed a grove of very respectable Olive trees, but at 300 feet they left us, to be replaced by a forest of stunted deciduous oaks. In their turn they disappeared at about 700 feet, and from this to the summit, which I found 1000 feet. The north- east wind had. it clearly all its own way on this the north side of the range. At this low altitude there was scarcely a tree to be seen, but immense tracts of fresh green scanty pasturage, just as on a Welsh mountain. On descending the southern side there were no Oaks, the Olives beginning to appear at 700 feet. At first poor and small, they gradually became larger, and at the southern base we saw fine old trees, although not so large as those of the Genoese Riviera. Taranto is an old wall-enclosed Italian city, cramped and confined, as all such towns are in Italy, situated at the base of a peninsula. In a market garden, surrounded by high walls, I found large Fig trees, Pome- granates, Apricots, no Oranges nor Lemons. There were plenty in the market, but, what with the north-east wind at the back, and the blast of south-westerly gales in front, they could not grow on the coast, I was told, although they grew freely in the interior. Taranto itself is a wretched but picturesque Italian town of 6000 inhabitants, with no regular inn or hotel — merely a cafe with some sleeping- rooms above it. I returned to Bari, and pursued my journey to Brindisi. Here I found the same conditions that had marked the entire journey from Bologna downwards — a southern lati- tude and powerful sun in vain contending with exposure to north-east winds. Brindisi is on a promontory turned to the north, and gets its sun laterally, as it were. Wherever the north-east wind reaches, the land is literally naked, reduced to vines and cereals ; where there is exposure to the sun, and protection from the north by walls or other- 240 EASTERN ITALY. wise, it grows all the southern products, just like Naples or Salerno. Thus, there are small gardens in the town in which are fine Orange and Lemon trees, covered with beautiful fruit of excellent quality ; but they are in courts, or surrounded by walls twenty feet high. You do not even see the tops of the trees in passing along the streets at the base of the garden walls. On the other side of the harbour, in a valley or fold of land with a south- western exposure, and protected from the north by a belt of Fir trees, I saw (April 25) in flower many of the plants I had left in flower in my Biviera garden eight days before. Sweet Peas, Roses — Banksian, Bengal, multiflora, Tea, hybrid ; among others, Chromatella, Gloire de Dijon, Lamarque, Malmaison, Empereur de Maroc ; Jasminum revolutum, Linum rubrum, Verbena, Zinnia, Petunia, Lantana, Cineraria, Pelargonium, double Geranium, Straw- berries nearly ripe. Most of these plants, however, the Hoses excepted, were not luxuriant and fresh, as with me at Mentone. They seemed stinted, generally unhappy, as if they had suffered from cold in the winter. In this garden were large Aloes and Opuntias, unknown all along the coast. In the very centre, and in the most sheltered site in the garden, there was a Lemon tree, some ten feet high, covered with fruit. From the way in which Oranges and Lemons thrive in Italy and in Spain, in the closest possible quarters — in courtyards in the centre of towns, surrounded with high walls, in hollows and valleys without down draughts — I think it clear they would thrive and fruit with us abun- dantly under glass, and might, as Mr. Bivers says, be cultivated with profit, as Grapes and Peaches are ; perhaps, even, we might improve on quality. An old quarry, with a southern exposure, would be the very place for an Orange orchard. "What they appear not to be able to bear is frost or wind ; otherwise they are easily pleased. Some of the finest Orange trees I have ever seen were in the close court- yard of the Seville Cathedral, in Spain. I thus found, once more, that complete protection from north winds, such as is obtained on the Genoese Biviera, makes up for many degrees of latitude ; whereas exposure to cold mountain winds, such as impinge on the entire TARANTO— EASTERN TRAVELLERS. 241 eastern coast of Italy, takes away the good effect of many degrees of latitude. The vegetation of the Genoese Riviera is that of the sheltered regions of Sicily, 6° further south ; whereas the vegetation of Bologna and Ancona is that of the central regions of France, 6° more north. The fact illustrated is the advantage of protection from the north in all regions, and of full exposure to the south. Every step of my Mediterranean explorations and journeyings has confirmed the truth of this statement. The excursion to Taranto made me too late for the steamer on which I intended to embark for the East, so I had to wait several days for the next. This interval I spent very comfortably at the " Grand Hotel," exploring the present town, ruminating on the past, and speculating on the future. The greater part of the time I was quite alone — the only guest in this hotel, built by the Peninsular Company for their passengers to and from Alexandria. It is a most comfortable, luxurious caravansail, and presents the curious feature of filling and emptying by a kind of tide on the advent of the Alexandria steamers. On the arrival or departure of one of these magnificent vessels the hotel awakes as from a deep slumber. All is bustle and orderly agitation, most of the 120 rooms are occupied, and movement prevails in the establishment for twenty- four or forty-eight hours, by which time all have departed, and silence and repose are once more the order of the day. One steamer arrived from Alexandria, with the Indian mail and passengers, and one departed, during my sojourn. Both were most dramatic events to the looker on, and each explained and completed the other. The departure represented youth — the commencement of life, and of an Oriental career ; the arrival was the reverse of the picture. The arrival from the East gave, as it were, a tableau of the return of the same joyous, boisterous, youthful passengers, ten, twenty, thirty years hence. They returned as sober, middle-aged men, with pale wives, with thin sickly-looking children, with Oriental- visaged servants, ayahs, and bearers ; or as aged men at the end of their eastern career, sharp-eyed and life-worn, men who had clearly been accustomed to command and to it 242 EAST REN ITALY. be obeyed, and who were returning to end their days in their native country. The first — the departing passengers — were mostly young, strong, healthy, well-dressed, in boisterous spirits. Gentle- men and ladies, seemed like a troop of young people at a Regent's Park flower-show on a fine summer day ; even their luggage was quite new and handsome. The arriving passengers— men, women, and children — had evidently passed through the trying ordeals of life. They had no longer roses on their cheeks, and many looked ill and anxious. Their garments were travel-worn and stained, their luggage was old and battered. They had evidently been battling with life, struggling with work, climate, and cares for j^ears, and many had clearly suffered in the struggle. Brindisi, in the days of the Roman emperors, was a great and important city, the termination of the Appian way from Rome. It was the military and commercial port of embarkation for the East, for Greece, Egypt, Palestine, and Asia Minor. On the subsidence of the Roman empire, it fell into decay, became and remained an insignificant provincial town, without commerce or even local importance, and that until quite recently. During the Franco-German war the Indian mail was diverted from Marseilles to Brindisi, a change rendered feasible by the completion of the Italian railway down the Adriatic coast. With the stream of passengers from Europe to the East, a new life has been infused into the dormant city. The government has dredged the magnificent old port, which had been allowed to fill up, and has built a great jetty or pier, connecting an island outside with the main land, thus forming an extensive outer port. Docks and warehouses are also being built, partly by private com- panies, and land has quadrupled in value. On every side are evidences of improvement, of activity. This revival of energy, however, is, I was told, taking place from without, not from within. It is Italians from the north, from Genoa and Milan, and foreigners, who are the leading promoters of all this commercial and social progress. A little incident in the social state of Brindisi gives the key to the somnolence of its native inhabi- tants. I wanted some books to read, and in this town of SCARCITY OF BOOKS — NATIONAL REVIVAL. 243 ] 5,000 inhabitants there were none to be either borrowed or bought; there was neither circulating* library nor bookseller. After many inquiries, I was directed to a kind of bazaar; the proprietor opened a cupboard, and showed me some fifty volumes of schoolbooks and missals, or church-services, with a few religious works'. It was all he had, nor was there a newspaper on sale in the town. It is difficult for us to conceive such a state of intellectual somnolence in the nineteenth century. Not finding any books in the town, I inquired if there was any public library, and was told that there was one at the episcopal palace, so I started to find it. At the palace I inquired for the librarian, and after being handed about from one servant to another was shown into the presence of a dignified old gentleman, who proved to be the archbishop himself ! I made an apology and explained my mission, on which he made me sit down, and conversed a long while with me, asking all kinds of questions about my journey and its object, England and our system of popular education. He then deputed one of his chaplains to show me the library. With this reverend gentleman, a most courteous and learned man, I spent a long morning ex- amining early and curious editions of the classics and of theological works, of which the library is mainly composed. The archbishop and his chaplains were men of refinement and cultivation. When the heads of the educational de- partment in a country are thus enlightened, and the rest of the community are left in thorough intellectual darkness, the difference between the two must be intentional, the result of a system. I have recently (May, 1874) traversed Italy from Naples to Turin, and have found everywhere the most undeniable evidence of a national revival. Since the entire country has been united under a single national government, a complete intellectual regeneration has apparently com- menced, and is rapidly progressing. Italy is now totally different from the country that I knew twenty-five years ago. Public and private improvements are going on every- where. In Catania, Messina, Naples, Rome, Florence, and in nearly every other town there is evidence of progress on every side. New sea-walls and jetties, docks and ware- k2 244 EASTERN ITALY. houses in maritime towns, draining and rebuilding in the continental towns, are in progress everywhere. The rail- ways, the steamers, and the conscription, by mixing provinces and races, are amalgamating the whole nation. Picturesque costumes are disappearing, and at Rome and Naples they are now scarcely seen. But then with them are also disappearing the beggars, the lazzarone, sent into almshouses ; in a word, the picturesqueness of dirt and of rags is departing from Italy. In the country life is becoming more secure, the peasants hitherto huddled in their towns and villages, for the sake of mutual succour and support against brigands and evil- doers, are beginning to issue forth. Before long there will be isolated farmhouses and small hamlets, as with us, as in Piedmont and Lombardy. I found the fertile country from Naples to Home, from Borne to Florence, cultivated like a garden — not a weed to be seen, and that as it were by invisible hands, by peasants who in these regions live still in villages and small towns, and have to lose hours daily in walking to and from their work. And thus is being fulfilled the prophecy in " Rogers's Italy/' placed at the head of this chapter — . . . . " Twice hast thou livecl already ; Twice shone among the nations of the world, As the sun shines among the lesser lights Of heaven ; and shalt again." .... Notwithstanding the dearth of books at Brindisi, I managed to get over my five days' detention very satis- factorily. What with fishing in the inner port, boating and bathing in the outer one, exploring the town and its antiquities, as also the gardens and plantations in the vicinity, what with watching and moralizing over the pas- sengers departing for and arriving from India, what with interviewing the archbishop and his chaplains, completing arrears of correspondence, and writing a couple of essays on medical and horticultural subjects, time did not hang very heavy on my hands. Still when the Corfu steamer arrived from Trieste, I was quite ready to depart. CHAPTER IX. SPAIN. CAB.THAGENA — MURCIA — ELCHE — ALICANTE — VALENCIA — CORDOVA — SEVILLE— MALAGA — GRANADA— MADRID— VALLADOLID — BURGOS. . . . . "And be there joined Patience and temperance with this high reserve, Honour that knows the path and will not swerve, Affections which, if pnt to proof, are kind, And piety towards God. Such men of old Were England's native growth, and throughout Spain, Thanks to high God, forests of such remain. Then, for that country, let our hopes be bold, For matched with these shall Policy prove vain, Her arts, her strength, her iron, and her gold." Wordsworth, Sonnet xxviii. CARTHAGENA. I had been visiting Algeria with some friends, and we had brought our Algerian explorations to a close at Oran. We left Oran on the 30th of April, 1869, at 5 p.m., and reached Carthagena the following morning, in fifteen hours. The passage was rough, owing to the strong west or north-west wind from the Atlantic, which was hurrying south to fill the vacuum caused by heat over the Desert of Sahara, sucked in by that great natural furnace. This wind was carrying with it dark rain-loaded clouds to water and ferti- lize Algeria. The captain told us that the wind would lull, and the sea become calm, when we got within fifty miles of the coast of Spain, owing to the shelter of Cape de Gata. Whether we really did get under the shelter of this cape, or whether it was, as I suspect, that the African Desert pulled the wind down south, out of our way, I cannot say, but the captain's words proved true. W"e had some hours of calm and comfort before we reached the coast, ESP ANA (SPAIN) 246 SPAIN. and were able to scan its rocky shores from afar. There was all but a calm when we entered the magnificent port of Carthagena, the Plymouth of Spain. On looking round at the high limestone rocks and mountains which form the coast line, and surround the port, I rubbed my eyes with astonishment. Not a shrub, not a blade of grass, not a vestige of vegetable life of any kind or description was there to be seen on the cliffs, or on the shore inland. Scorched, browned by the sun, the rocky coast might have come that very day out of Pluto's laboratory. I was subsequently told by the French Consul that it seldom rained at Carthagena, and that they had then been eight months without any rain at all, that is, during one of the rainiest winters on record in Europe generally, as well as in the north of Africa. I took a walk on the ramparts, and in the vicinity of the town, but found no more vegetation than on a brick kiln, with one excep- tion, a small herbaceous plant, from six to twelve inches in height, with green fleshy leaves, which grew sparsely here and there, and of which no one knew the name. I saw nothing in this sunburnt, dirty, miserable town to deserve attention, excepting the port, the fortifications, and a grand old tower built by the Carthaginians more than two thousand years ago. The Spanish Government, Vandal like, is at present levelling to the ground this curious remnant of antiquity, to make way for some im- provements. Owing to the existence of a deep and safe port, one of the very best in the Mediterranean, Cartha- gena has always been an important military station, and was the principal military and commercial port in the flourishing days of Spanish colonization. The principal riches of this district, now-a-days, are valuable lead and siver mines, worked by the Carthaginians in former times. Having seen quite enough of Carthigena in the course of the day, we started that evening for Mureia, described in books of travel as an Eden of fertility and beauty. The railroad at once entered upon a plain gradually rising to the north, the aspect of which was peculiar. It was carefully ploughed and furrowed, but not the vestige of a crop was there to be seen — nothing but the naked carthagena sunburnt and arid. 247 earth. On inquiry, I learnt that the land had been fully- prepared and that seed had been sown, but that as no rain had fallen since last September, the seed sown had never come up. Such a scene must be witnessed to be believed — thirty miles of ploughed land without a blade of grass on it, for want of moisture. This I was told was the case two years out of three; all hope of harvest for this year was lost. Even if rain came it would now be too late, the sun had become too powerful, and would burn up the grain were it to germinate. As it was nearly ripe in other regions, this can be easily understood. There was not, however, an entire absence of vegetable life, as at and near Carthagena, for the plain was sparsely dotted with Fig, Olive, Carouba, Almond, Mulberry, and Pomegranate trees, the latter in flower. They were all smali, and miserable in their leaf development, owing to the drought and to the poverty of the soil — a mere calcareous rubble, varied by apparently stiff clays. In this arid desert, the like of which I never witnessed in Algeria, I repeatedly saw tufts of the Chamserops humilis, which thus established its right of domicile in south-eastern Europe. I also met with it later, between Murcia and Alicante, and in dense masses in the Andalusian valleys. Near the rare houses or farms were clumps of Opuntia or Barbary Fig in flower. The species grown is the one without spines, or with soft spines, which the cattle can eat. Otherwise, there was no scrub nor " maquis/' no brush- wood, .no grasses, nothing for mile after mile but plains carefully ploughed and sown by the labour of man ; all to no avail. On each side of the wide plain rose limestone mountains, presenting basaltic flaws here and there, and diminishing in height as the railroad gradually ascended. At about 1800 feet above the sea, some thirty miles from the shore, where the desolation had become, if possible, fiercer — for even the Carouba and Olive trees had given in — the Hue turned to the west, and passed through a kind of gorge, to descend into the plain of Murcia. The plaiu of Murcia is alluvial, in the form of a delta, between two ranges of limestone mountains, some 2000 or 3000 feet high, and is rendered fertile by the presence of a 248 SPAIN. small river, and by a system of irrigation which dates from the time of the Moors, and transforms a barren wilderness into a perfect garden. The mountain side continued to present exactly the same features of barren desolation as near Carthagena, until a level was attained which enabled the water to be used, and then the transformation was magical. By the means of canals of derivation taken at a higher level in the valley, a very considerable extent of the sloping ground even is brought under the beneficial influence of water, and at once smiles with fertility. From the barometer, I should say that the irrigation begins about ] 000 feet above the sea -level. Instantly, the naked, barren, furrowed fields give place to Wheat crops, which increase in luxuriance as we descend. As the red ferruginous lime soil becomes deeper, and richer in humus produced by cen- turies of previous cultivation and vegetation, the Caroubas, the Olives, the Fig trees become larger — more flourishing ; the Vines, up to then, mere dry gnarled roots, rising one foot from the ground, show leaves ; Mulberry trees make their appearance, then Pomegranates in flower, also Date Palms in considerable numbers, in groups of two, three, or more, principally near the farms. When the level plain was reached, a couple of miles from the town of Murcia, the luxuriance of vegetation was extreme. Caroubas, Opuntias, and Olives all but disap- peared, the land had become too valuable for them. The small Fig trees had changed into large forest trees, many feet in diameter; the Mulberry was planted thickly along the side of the road and around the fields, whilst the ground was principally occupied by dense luxuriant crops of Wheat, three feet high, just turning colour, with here and there patches of Flax, Beans, Peas, and more Palms from twenty to seventy or eighty feet high. This luxuriant vegetation owed its existence entirely to irrigation, for here, as at Carthagena, I was told that it had not rained for six or eight months ; but an entire river had been diverted from its course and used up. Every plot of cultivated ground was surrounded by an irrigation ditch, every field by a raised earth bank, some ten inches high, and by this means there was the power of throwing water over every foot of MURCIA — HOLIDAY COSTUMES. 249 this artificially fertile region. The river itself rising 1 in the mountains of the interior where plenty of rain falls, the supply of water is never wanting, however great and continuous may be the local drought, even if it lasts for years. Thus, the fertile plain of Murcia is independent of rain- fall. With a never- failing supply of sunshine, heat, and water, it has been, from the time of the Moors, who first established the system of irrigation, a mere market garden, like those at Battersea, and has been cultivated in the same way, one crup rapidly succeeding another. As a result of this profuse production of the necessaries of life in a southern climate — oil, wine, bread, dates, vege- tables, fruits — a large town has grown up in the midst of it, the town of Murcia with its 45,000 inhabitants, living and fattening on Nature's bounty. From the cathedral tower is seen clearly the immense delta, with its base on the sea, enclosed between two limestone mountain ranges, entirely covered with the vegetation I have described, and dotted with groups of tall Palms, which give a very Oriental appearance to the scenery. MURCIA. On rising the morning after our arrival at Murcia, and leaving the hotel, to look about us, we found out that we really were in Spain, in the country of the Barber of Seville, of Count Almaviva, of Don Basilio ; everything was Spanish. The women had mantillas and fans, and the men really wore the elegant fantastical costumes we see represented on the stage and in books. The streets were narrow, the houses low, the windows protected with iron screens, bulging out from the window-sill. The beggars were picturesque and importunate. The churches were numerous and imposing, towering over the town and dwarfing all other buildings, just as the Church of the Inquisition, for centuries, towered over and dwarfed free judgment and social life in Spain. It was Sunday, and the entire population was out of doors in holiday costume, which gave us a good opportunity of studying costume and race. The lower orders, and the 250 SPAIN. lower middle classes, had clearly a deal of Arab or Moorish blood in their veins. Their complexions were swarthy, olive coloured, and their eyes and hair generally coal black. The women did not strike me as particularly lovely, but they had a fire, an animation about their speech and move- ments that we seldom see in northern climes. Many of the higher class women seemed to belong to a different race, for they were fair-skinned, and had brown, even light hair. This difference of race characteristics was still more marked further north, at Valencia and Madrid. No doubt these light-complexioned Spaniards are the lineal descen- dants of the northern races that long held Spain in subjec- tion, of the Goths and Vandals of early history. Whilst at Murcia there was a " Bull-fight," so, as in duty bound, we went to witness the performance. It was the first exhibition of the kind that I had seen, and will be the last that I shall ever witness. I was not so much struck with the cruelty of the entire proceeding, although that is very great, as with the treachery and barbarity shown to the brave bull. The one that I saw fought like a Trojan of old, splendidly, magnificently, refusing no enemy, no encounter. He turned over the Picadors like men of straw, ripped up the horses, and drove all before him like chaff. Then, at last, out of breath, tired with his vain efforts to get at his enemies, he went to the gate by which he had entered, and bellowed to be let out. He seemed to say, " I have had enough of this contemptible folly, let me out." He was allowed to depart for a few minutes, whilst the dead horses were drawn away, and the amphitheatre was put in order. Then the portal was opened, and the same bull bounded into the arena perfectly furious, bellowing and tossing the sand at his feet. He seemed to have thought better of it, and to be determined that this time he really would make mincemeat of his enemies ; he was clearly much more dangerous. Within five minutes he all but pinned one of his tormentors to the wooden balustrade, making the building resound with the shock, and tearing off one of his horns. The man was clearly hurt, for al- though he contrived to jump over the balustrade, and to quietly walk away, putting a good face on it, he soon dis- THE BULL-FIGHT. 251 appeared, and was seen no more. By this time my sym- pathies were thoroughly enlisted on the bull's side. I mentally applauded him, saying with the Spanish audience "Bravo Toro," and applying to the injured Toreador the Yorkshire jury's verdict, "Served him right." Then to my indignation, as if in revenge for his noble defence, a dozen large bulldogs were let loose on the brave animal. They instantly fastened on him, one on each ear, one on the tail, two on the neck, and one on his muzzle. The poor brute had a perfect chaplet of these bloodthirsty dogs hanging on him like leeches. He was quite powerless to get rid of them, and kept careering madly round the amphitheatre, bellowing piteously all the while. This was no longer fair righting, but a brutal persecution of a noble beast. AYhen he was all but exhausted, he stood still, quivering in the arena, and the master of the dogs came forward and pulled them away. Freed from his tormentors, his lips torn to shreds, the place of his lost horn marked by a gory gash, blood stream- ing from his lacerated ears, neck, sides, and tail, he was still game, bellowed deliance lustily, and turned round once more on his enemies. I thought of Byron's lines^ for even then, after so brave a fight, there was to be no mercy for him, he had not gained his life by so valiantly defending it. " Foil'd, bleeding, furious to the last, Full in the centre stands the bull at bay, ']\Iid wounds, and clinging darts and lances brast, And foes disabled in the brutal fray. And now the matadores around him play, Shake the red cloak and poise the ready brand, Once more through all be bursts his thundering way. Vain rage ! tbe mantle quits the conynge hand, "Wraps his fierce eye — 'tis past — he sinks upon the sand !" Bybox. Childe Harold. And so sank my fierce, brave bull. I mourned over him, and left, although the clarion announced other fights. But I was myself becoming bloodthirsty, and felt, that had the bull pinned one of his tormentors to the earth, as he pinned the horses, the sufferer would have had but scant commisera- 252 Spain. tion from me; so I thought it best to depart. It is truly a barbarous scene. It would have a redeeming feature if the bull could save his life by his bravery, but no, he is always butchered, however brilliantly he may fight. He may always say, as did the .Roman Gladiator of old, when defiling before the Roman emperor, "Moriturus te salutat, imperator." " A man about to die salutes thee, O emperor." Whilst at Murcia I went to see the summer residence of the late Lord Howden, formerly our ambassador at Madrid. Some twelve years previously he bought a plot of this rich land, about a mile from the town, built a house, and made a garden. The latter is very interesting as an evidence of the rapidity of growth in such a climate, with rich earth and water ad libitum. If what his bailiff told me be correct, the Date Palm planted under such conditions is by no means a slow growing tree, as usually supposed. Palms only six years old from the seed were five feet in the stem, whilst others, twelve years old, were twelve or fifteen feet ; quite young trees. They are planted in profusion, but nearly always in beds or ditches, sunk two feet below the level, so as to admit of water being turned in, and of their being thus literally drenched. This, I was told, was repeatedly done during the summer or growing time. In the garden (May 1st) there was a profusion of monthly Roses, multinora, Bengal, Banksia, and Centifolia, very few hybrids; also Hollyhock, Delphinium, Poppy, white Lily, Jasminum revolutum, Petunia, Carnation, Pink, Stock, with Bignonia jasminoides and Passion Flowers, as climbers, all in flower. In the public garden at Murcia I found the same flowers; that is, with the exception of the last two named, our early summer flowers. I was rather surprised to see in a large conservatory at Lord Howden's, plants in pots which I should have thought would have done well out of doors — Pelargoniums, Lantanas, Latania Borbonica, Abutilons, Heliotropes — a fact which seemed to imply cold nights and some frost in winter. With all its luxuriance this valley must then have a very winterly look, when the Mulberry, Fig, Pomegranate, Almond, and Vine are all devoid of MURCIA AS A WINTER RESORT. 253 leaves. The Orange trees are numerous in the district, But they are generally planted in orchards and not as orna- mental trees. Moreover, they are treated in a manner which much, diminishes their beauty. When young the stem is cut near the ground, and the numerous shoots which spring up are preserved, so that the tree grows up as a bush and remains so. It is graceful enough as an ever- green bush, ten or fifteen feet high, but loses all the dignity and beauty of the Orange tree when fully deve- loped, as on the Genoese Riviera, at Blidah in Algeria, or at Milis in Sardinia. I had left Carthagena with a shudder at the very idea of being condemned to remain there, not the winter, but even a week or two, although, I have no doubt, that the climate is exceptionally mild, dry, and healthy in winter. But who could remain for months in a filthy, dirty, dusty, sunburnt Spanish seaport, a kind of southern Wapping? Then there is no accommodation, and probably no food fit to eat. The inn we stopped at was wretched, in a narrow close street, without comforts or any one redeeming point. Thus Carthagena is altogether out of the question as a health resort. With Murcia I was more agreeably impressed. The hotel, although very second rate, was large and more com- modious, and the fare was better. I have no doubt that life might be arranged with tolerable comfort ; but then this hotel, the principal one, is situated in the centre of the Spanish town, in a narrow street, from which effluvias, anvthing but aromatic, constantly ascended to my windows. I have no doubt, from what I saw, that the winter climate is pleasant and healthy, dry, sunny, and mild, but I presume not sunnier, or milder than is the Genoese Riviera, perhaps not as much so. If such is the case, why descend to the most southern extremity of Europe, in t : ie most south-east corner of Spain, merely to find what can be found within a twenty-four hours' journey of Paris ? In definitive, my mental conclusion was, that if Lord Walden were to kindly offer me, and my friends, his pretty, well- built, cheerful, airy villa, on the outskirts of the town, I might be tempted to try Murcia, were I still in search 254 SPAIN. of winter quarters ; not otherwise. Even then I should have a qualm ; I should ask myself whether the very- extensive and perfect irrigation of his flower garden and Palm trees, and of the market gardens and Palm trees of his neighbours, may not produce ague, fever, malaria, as it does in the oases of the Desert of Sahara, and that even in mid- winter. PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND GEOLOGY OF SPAIN — MURCIA TO ELCHE AND ALICANTE. In order to understand the climates and the Very varied vegetation of Spain, the examination of which was the special object of my visit, we must bear in mind the prin- cipal geographical and geological features of the country. I will therefore briefly recapitulate them before we proceed on our journey to Alicante. The peninsula of Spain is a mountain plain or table- land, raised from two to three thousand feet above its own coasts and above the sea. This tableland is itself divided into parallel sections, from east to west, by a series of high mountain ranges, all but parallel to the Pyrenees, the principal of which are the Sierra Guadarrama, the Sierra Toledo, the Sierra Morena, the Sierra Nevada. Between these mountain chains are the great central raised plains of Spain, more than two thousand feet above the sea-level, and formerly the bottoms or beds of seas and estuaries, or of freshwater lakes. In these plains run all the large rivers, all of which empty themselves into the Atlantic with the exception of the Ebro. Their course is parallel to the mountain chains. Below this tableland is the coast, some- times a mere ledge or underclifT, but oftener presenting small alluvial plains of greater or less width, watered by the rivers that descend from the higher regions. It will be at once understood that such a country must present two totally different climates ; the climate of the coast or sea- level, that of the latitude in which Spain is situated, and the climate of the central raised plains and mountains. The latter must be, and is, from its great altitude, a much colder climate than that of the coast. PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY — GEOLOGY. 255 The main features of the geology of Spain are very simple and easily retained. The mountain chains enume- rated are primary, and form the basis of the geology of Spain. They emerged before the secondary period, before the secondary formations which surround them. The Guadarrama chain is formed of granite, gneiss and crystal- line schists j the Toledo chain of granite ; the Morena chain of slates, psammites, quartzites, and sandstone ) the Nevada chain, S.E. of Granada, of masses of crystalline schists with numerous garnets. The secondary rocks are represented by the Trias triple^ which extends from the Pyrenees to the provinces of Asturias and Santander, and also by the Jurassic and cretaceous formations, which occupy a vast area in the eastern and southern regions of Spain, forming to the east mountains many thousand feet high, which constitute the separation between the eastern and western watershed, and penetrate into the heart of the country along the Guadarrama. The tertiary formations are represented by nummulitic rocks or older tertiaries, always contorted, as at Santander and at Malaga, and by miocene or younger tertiary beds or deposits, both marine and freshwater. These younger tertiaries occupy very extensive areas, principally the plains and valleys of the great riyers, the Ebro, Douro, Tagus, Guadiana, and Guadalquivir, which, as already stated, were formerly seas, estuaries, or freshwater lakes. In some regions the miocene and pliocene deposits reach an eleva- tion of 2500 feet, which shows how greatly the peninsula of Spain must have been raised in comparatively recent geological times. Many, both of the freshwater and marine fossil shells, belong to species still living. For the above geological details, which entirely corroborate and give form to my own observations, I am indebted to Ford's valuable " Handbook for Spain." I did not bring the work with me, expecting to find it at the first Spanish port, but could not obtain a copy until I reached Madrid ; a hint to other travellers. I would remark also, as a proof of the scientific apathy of the Spaniards, that I failed to obtain, either at Valencia, the seat of an important univer- 256 SPAIN. sity, or at Madrid, the capital, a geological map of Spain or any work on its geology. I was told by all the book- sellers to whom I applied, that no snch map or work existed, unless in a French or English form, and that as there was no demand whatever for such maps or works, they did not keep them. The booksellers' shops through- out Spain are few and far between, and miserably supplied. They appear to contain little else but elementary educa- tional works, translations of French novels, and religious books. Wishing to see the Palm groves of Elche, and the country between Murcia and Alicante, we chartered a kind of light omnibus, drawn by four mules, and started at eight o'clock in the morning. We were to remain two hours at Elche, and to reach Alicante by six o'clock, the state of the road permitting. The road to Alicante, a seaport about forty miles distant, passes in a north-easterly direction over a spur of the secondary limestone mountain that bounds and forms to the north the vale of Murcia ; it again falls into the latter at Orihuela, about twelve miles from Murcia. As soon as we had ascended out of the reach of irrigation, desolation reappeared ; thousands of acres of ploughed land, without a blade of grain or grass, without a weed, and vegetation reduced to small stunted Olive, Fig, and Carouba trees, especially the latter. At the same time, groves, thickets of Opuntias showed themselves, all in flower. Men eat the insipid fruit, cattle the leaves, so some good is got out of them, and they seem all but able to grow out of a burning rock; they clearly like the lime soil. On descending again into the vale of Murcia at Orihuela, as soon as water is reached, the same magical change as before is witnessed. ... The first well is indicated by a house, some vegetation around, and two, three, or more Palm trees ; for, as in the African Desert, the Palm tree means water, in the soil below the surface, a well or a running stream, more surely than does the Lombardy Poplar in Continental Europe. When steady irrigation commences the same exuberant fertility appeared as near Murcia, and the Wheat was also turning yellow ; there were Beans, Peas, Flax, large Mul- ORIHUELA — PALM GROVES. 257 berry tree?, Olive, Carouba, Almond, Apricot trees, with Vines and Pomegranates. I never before saw such Apricot trees, [as large^as fifty year old Oaks, and spreading like them. The fruit was beginning to ripen, but is inferior, as is the fruit of most trees grown in the open fields on the Continent. But the peculiar feature of Orihuela is the Palms; they appeared in orchards, in groves, in thickets of fifty, a hundred, or more acres, from ten to a hundred feet high, exactly like the Palms in India, as one of my companions, an Indian officer, stated. The explanation of their presence, in such multitudes, in this district is that from Carthagena to Alicante, owing to the intense heat of the summer, and to the dryness of the winter climate, they ripen their fruit, which consequently becomes an important object of trade. The Dates are the large, farinaceous species, not the soft sweet kind encrusted with sugar. Orihuela is a dense hive of human beings, 19,000 strong, all subsisting on the bounty of Nature thus helped by man, and in a great measure on the produce of the Palm dates. I remarked throughout this region basaltic rocks cropping out of the limestone mountains, and it is probable that their presence gives another element to the limestone soil, and one that suits the constitution of the Date Palm, as I have previously stated. Rather severe earthquakes are occasionally felt. On rising out of this happy valley, in our track across the rainless country, we once more entered calcareous plains, sunburnt, and all but devoid of vegetable life. They would have been entirely so had it not been for the Carouba, Olive, and Fig, which here again, although stunted, manage to live through all these difficulties. These trees possess roots that have the power of travelling nearly any distance, or dipping down nearly any depth in search of food and water. They are, as my Mentone gardener calls them, "robbers/"' and I have had to extirpate the Fig entirely in my Riviera garden, for wherever I made a rich border, there I found his roots at the end of a year or two. This explains their power of resistance to drought, coupled with a constitution suited to intense heat and to long-continued vegetative rests or sleeps during hot S 258 SPAIN. dry weather. But although they can thus live on for a year or more, all but without water, merely moistened by the dew of heaven, they do not produce fruit, or at least eatable fruit, under such adverse circumstances. It made me quite sad to see so much labour and seed wasted, an entire country cleaned, ploughed, and sown, and not even a crop of weeds to dig in for the next season. On one occa- sion I left the carriage and walked over twenty or thirty acres of the ploughed land, and only found half-a-dozen herbaceous Euphorbias, some three or four inches high ; two or three small Thistles, and a small Convolvulus flower, at the bottom of a ditch. The calcareous mountain ridges to the north-west, which we skirted, were more bare than the white cliffs of Dover in their most precipitous part. Truly did they seem the bare bones of the earth piercing its skin. After a progress of some twenty miles through this cultivated wilderness, we came to another valley, and then burst on our astonished eyes an oasis of the African desert, such as we had wished to see in Africa, but had not seen — a forest of tropical Date Palms, extending over a vast region, many miles in circumference, and surrounding the famed village or town of Elche. The river bed was crossed by a good bridge, but in it there was no river. It had been taken up bodily by the inhabitants, and distributed in canals to their friends and bread-givers the Palms. I remained here several hours, and walked miles in the Palm forest, the like of which my Indian companion had never seen in the tropics. There were canals full of water Mowing rapidly in every direction, and the ground was everywhere prepared for constant irrigation, in trenches, in squares, in parallelograms, banked up by earth walls one or two feet high. Water was constantly let into these trenches and squares, and allowed slowly to soak in so as to moisten the soil thoroughly, wherever there were rcots. Thus, again, was I reminded of the Arab saying, that the Palm " must have his roots in the water, and his head in the fire."" There were Palms of all sizes, from twenty to eighty feet of every shape and direction. Some erect, like the Trajan column of Rome, others gracefully twisted or inclined. Sometimes they were APEICOT TREES — A SPANISH INN. 259 growing capriciously, sometimes in rows, or in squares, methodically planted. The Date forest was most evidently a valuable property, and the boundary of each proprietor's grounds was protected by walls, with doors here and there, admitting of easy ingress and egress. The dates were beiug" gathered from some of the trees, whilst other trees, sometimes the same one, were in full flower. In some regions of the forests, where the Palms were not so close together, there were vegetables, Peas, Beans, growing underneath them, but this was the exception. Evidently the dates were too valuable a crop, like lemons at Men- tone, for everything else not to give way to them, wherever they could be cultivated, alias irrigated. The land appeared to be a calcareous loam, but on examining the empty river bed, I found it a mass of siliceous sand, so that, no doubt, the soil in the district is impregnated with silex. The dates are gathered by boys, who swarm up the trees, an operation that was easily performed by a small boy for our edification. Like those at Murcia and Orihuela, they are of the solid farinaceous variety. The soft saccharine Saharian dates, which are principally imported into northern Europe, I did not see in Spain. In the Algerine Desert and in Egypt this variety of the date is more valued and more expensive, because it is the one chosen for exportation, but the solid farinaceous variety is preferred for food, as in Spain. In this country the dates ripened on the south- eastern coast are extensively used as an article of food. I saw large quantities of them in all the markets I visited. Near Elche I also saw many of the fine Apricot trees before described, growing like oaks, in the open fields, and covered with fruit, nearly ripe. The Apricot clearly likes dry warm soils of a silico-calcareous nature. This fact, perhaps, explains my great success with Apricot trees on walls (the Moor Park), in my hot sandy garden in Surrey. I each year raise on a south wall, with the assistance of spring protection, the most luscious and the largest Apricots I have ever seen. I have totally failed to obtain a crop with these same trees in the rich artificial loam of a large glass orchard house. At Elche, we dined at a Posada, or Inn, which exem- 260 SPAIN". plified in its construction Spanish ways as applied to a warm burning climate. The centre of the house was like an immense barn, with a very heavy roof, and in one corner was a deep well of pure cool water. As in the Desert of Sahara, in these sunburnt regions, near mountains, there is often water in lakes, rivers, and springs, below the surface, although, the latter is parched and sunburnt. If the water can be reached, man settles round the precious well, and his labour irrigates the country around, producing luxuriant vegetation wherever the water can be applied. But the labour is great, a fact which limits its fertilizing powers to a small area. No doubt many of these districts might be fertilized by Artesian wells. In this barn-like disem- bowelled house or cavern were several carriages and carts drawn up in a corner, many implements of husbandry, and all kinds of odds and ends. It was evidently the kitchen, parlour, and hall, as well as wash house, store, and lumber room ; and a very pleasant cavern house it seemed in the heat even of early May. Behind was a yard, and behind that a roomy stable, with standing for a hundred horses, or rather mules, the animal generally used in Spain on account of its hardihood and sobriety. Between Elche and Alicante I found the same cultivated barrenness, the same brown naked fields, dotted with a few stunted Caroubas, Olives, and Figs; even on arriving at Alicante the desolation of thirst did not cease. ALICANTE. Alicante has a good port, in a good bay, which brings commerce, but it has no valley, no river, only one good spring, which never dries up, and does not even much diminish in years of drought. This spring, situated about a mile from the town, is, I was told, really a fountain of life for Alicante, inasmuch as it supplies the thirst and " occasional" ablutions of a town ot 31,500 inhabitants; with the assistance, however, of large rain-water tanks used for retaining rain when it does fall. The town itself after this winter's drought was like Carthagena, a ALICANTE. 261 mere crater to a volcano, without vegetation, with the ex- ception of a few stunted Acacias, Caroubas, and other trees with sparse foliage, planted along the sides of the main road, each in a deep circular bricked hole some four feet in diameter, for irrigation. There was an attempt at a garden in a square on one side of the town, where Monthly and Bengal Hoses, Poppies, Antirrhinums, Delphiniums, and Iberis, with Virginian Stock, formed the flower-beds, without a trace of winter gardening. From the castle rock we saw one green spot in the town, the garden of the governor, who evidently gets the lion's share of the water. The coast is rocky, and the sea and bay are picturesque. The town itself is open, not surrounded by walls, and the principal streets near the port are wide and clean. It lies at the south-eastern base of a rock ^00 feet high, on which is perched the castle, which thus completely commands the city. There is a large hotel, the " Fonda del Vapor," with an obliging host, at which we were made quite comfortable. This hotel occupies an extensive build- ing, formerly a custom house. It is opposite the port, an objection, as the ways of the labourers of a southern sea- port are not always pleasant to witness. The town is so dusty, so sunburnt, so arid, so dried up, so devoid of vegetation, and consequently so desolace, that a residence here for months would be a sad penance. Otherwise Alicante appears to me decidedly the most favourable health station that I have seen on the south- eastern coast of Spain. The climate must be mild, sunny, and dry, and there are no rice grounds to produce malaria as at Murcia or Valencia. There is a Huerta, or Irrigated valley, it is true, connected with Alicante, but it is situated at some distance north of the town. I had no time to visit it, but was told that in this valley, as in those of Murcia and Valencia, owing to the presence of water, vegetation never flags, and the crops follow each other in rapid succession all the year round. Indeed, the entire province of Murcia, from Carthagena to Alicante, must be exceptionally favoured in winter — dry, sunny, cool, and bracing. Its vegetation indicates the same climate characteristics as those that obtain on the 262 SPAIN, Genoese underclifT, great heat in summer, exceptional dryness and mildness in winter. Thus we have in both regions, growing luxuriantly, Date Palms, Lemon, Orange, Carouba trees, Opuntias, Aloes. The dryness of Murcia must, however, be greater than that of the Riviera, inasmuch as the fertility of the one is entirely owing to irrigation, whereas in the other it results in a great measure from natural rainfall. The dryness of Murcia is so extreme that the entire province resembles the Desert of Sahara., where nothing grows spontaneously, except in the beds of torrents, and on the margin of springs, or of lakes, which are dry part of the year. I was greatly struck with the sudden change from Algeria to Murcia : I left Algeria a very garden of verdure, of fertility, and found Spain "the desert" Algeria is so erroneously presumed to be. I believe that all forms of disease requiring such a climate, all that I have enumerated in the medical chapter on the Riviera as likely to benefit by mild, dry, bracing winter weather, would do well in any part of Murcia. I do not say "equally" well, because it remains to be proved by actual experience whether extreme dryness, an atmosphere where it often does not rain twice in the winter, may not be too stimulating ; periods of long drought in winter at Men- tone have often appeared to me to be so. But to test this question, and for Murcia to be a safe winter refuge for great invalids, there is still much wanted. An English or foreign company with a large capital, should build a good hotel in the suburbs of Carthagena, Murcia, Orihuela, Elche, or Alicante, for they must be all good stations as regards 'winter climate. A choice situation should be selected, an abundant supply of water obtained by means of an Artesian well, a nice ilower and shrub garden there- with created, and the decencies and comforts of northern civilization secured. Were there such an hotel, I should be quite willing to spend a winter there myself. No doubt there are in many regions of Murcia subterranean water- courses, and springs capable of being tapped and brought to the surface if proper means were employed, and thus the area of its fertility might be greatly extended. The very costume of the inhabitants of the province of ALICANTE TO VALENCIA. 263 Murcia indicates a dry mild winter climate, as that of the inhabitants of Algiers indicates a moist cool one. The latter wear one, two, or three thick woollen bournons with hoods, which envelop them from the head to the feet. The former merely wear linen drawers, ending a little below the knee, and a linen tunic, which is fastened by a girdle at the waist, and descends nearly to the knees. It is a kind of Greek costume. The head is covered with a species of turban cap, and the soles of the feet are slipped in rope sandals, which leave the feet naked, and would in no way defend them from wet or mud. On holidays, and no doubt generally in winter, they wear on their shoulders a many- coloured scarf, or manta, as it is called, as the Highlander wears his plaid. ALICANTE TO VALENCIA. The railroad by which we left Alicante for Valencia goes all but due west for about fifteen miles, over calcareous mountain slopes, exactly of the same character as those by which we entered Alicante. The country bore precisely the same stamp of dryness — of vain attempts to raise by careful and laborious husbandry a grain crop. The fields were all limited by the same little banks of earth some eight or ten inches high, to keep in rain that had never come. It was painful to think of the loss, and probably ruin, entailed on the cultivators of the soil by a succession of seasons such as the present, for the stunted Carouba, Olive, and Fig trees showed that the drought, although greater this year than usual, was not an exceptional event. Indeed what I have seen in this region, in Africa, and elsewhere in the south of Europe, has led me to the conviction that with all the uncertainty of our climate, our agriculturists are better off than those in many regions usually considered more favoured. Wherever a deep well can reach water, there we found one, with a homestead, a few trees, and a sparse cultivation. We constantly saw, here and elsewhere, the entire family, father, mother, children, at work, drawing water, by means, not of bucket and rope, but of a long pole worked as a lever. At an elevation of 1000 feet, we 264 Spain. readied a valley through which flows the little river that, nearer the sea, fertilizes the Palm forests of "Elche. With control over water, at once commenced determined efforts at cultivation. Fig, Olive, Almond; and Carouba trees, and patches of cereals, occupied the valley, whilst Vines extended over the hill-sides. Gradually, as the elevation became greater, the valley was too steep, and the course of the small river too torrential to admit of irrigation on an extensive scale; the Fig, Olive, and Carouba trees were scantier and smaller, and Vines, all but alone, occupied the southern slopes of the hills. The soil became very stony and poor, so that, although the Wheat crop, here and there, had come out of the ground, it was only three or four inches high, meagre and thin. About thirty miles from the shore, at an elevation of some 2200 feet, we reached the tableland of central Spain. The soil continued to be of the same character, a thin vegetable loam lying on calcareous rocks, until we came to the junction of the Madrid Railway, at Alcanzar, 2200 feet above the sea-level. We were then in the high plains of central Spain which form Old and New Castile. Not a tree was to be seen in any direction, nothing but naked plains, mountains bounding the horizon, and fields in vain tilled with the plough for Wheat. A more wretched-looking district, agriculturally, I never saw. The Wiltshire downs are fertility in comparison ; the Carouba, Olive, and Fig trees had abandoned us, and were replaced by nothing, neither tree nor bush. Our progress was so slow that we had plenty of leisure for observation. The Spanish railways are only made with one line of rails, and the rails themselves are much lighter than in England or France. Consequently, frequent stop- pages take place, and the speed is not greater than about fifteen miles an hour. Although the railways, which now connect nearly all the principal towns with Madrid, have rendered travelling in ISpain infinitely more commodious than formerly, it is still very tedious. The carriages are as good as our own. At Alicante we left (May 6) a temperature of 76° by day and 70° by night, and a midsummer vegetation. When we ALICANTE TO VALENCIA CENTRAL SPAIN. 265 arrived on the central plains we had gone hack to April. The thermometer was 60°, the wind cold, the cereals only just appearing above the ground, and the few trees we saw at the stations, principally Acacia and Melia Azeda- rach, just coming into leaf. The latter is very commonly grown for ornament in Spain, and is called Paraiso in Andalusia. It has a pretty flower, very much like the Lilac, but its foliage is thin, so that it really does not de- serve the esteem in which it is held ; probably from its indifference to drought and dryness. After continuing our route for some hours in a north-westerly direction through this bleak, treeless, calcareous plain, without farms or houses, occasionally stopping at villages or small towns, formed by an agglomeration of sunburnt dwellings huddled on the top or side of a hill, we turned eastward, and began to descend towards Valencia. As soon as the brow of the mountain was passed, and a south-eastern exposure was obtained, even at an elevation of 20l)0 feet, as indicated by an aneroid barometer, stunted Olive and Fig trees, with Vines, made their appearance. The hill-side presented also in every direction deep water- worn ravines, the beds of former rivers and torrents. I say u former" because it is clear that now no considerable body of water ever flows through them, inasmuch as in the very beds of these ravines are planted Fig and Olive trees, which any considerable rush of water during the previous twenty or forty years would clearly have carried away. These dry tree planted watercourses clearly imply a change of climate, probably the result of the forest denudation of the plains I had crossed in the morning*. In former historic days these plains were covered with forest trees, which the inhabitants have ruthlessly destroyed, partly for fuel and building, and partly in compliance with an insane but universal prejudice. The Spanish peasantry think that trees harbour birds, and that as birds destroy the cereals, the only way to get rid of the birds is to cut down the trees. Thus have they, in the long run, changed the climate of Central Spain, modified the natural rainfall, and made the central plains only a degree less dry than the rainless eastern coast. 266 spain. As the line descends, the Olive and Fig trees become larger, and Carouba trees appear, until at about 1200 feet elevation the scene changes into one of exuberant fertility. Water — water in abundance, a real river — has been reached ; systematic, scientific irrigation, a gift of the Moors in times gone by, carries the water everywhere ; and the rich vege- tation of the irrigated valleys of Murcia and Orihuela is again reproduced, even in a more grandiose style. The rail reaches at this elevation the southern boundary of a trian- gular plain, or sloping valley, with its base to the sea east- wards, through which three small rivers run from the central mountainous tableland to the sea. Wherever their waters can be carried by irrigation, the sunshine and heat, combined with protection from northern winds and zealous traditional cultivation, produce the most wonderful fertility. This fertility increases as we descend to the sea, as the conditions of heat and protection increase, as the alluvial soil becomes deeper, and as complete and repeated irrigation becomes easier. The vegetation is exactly the same as in the valley of Murcia. Large Olive, Fig, and Carouba trees, the latter always in the driest situations, the least accessible to irri- gation, often magnificent trees like Oaks; Apricot trees of the same size, really beautiful to look at, but covered with second-rate fruit ; Vines on the hill-side ; Cereals, Beans, Peas, on the irrigated levels, the former three feet high, thick, luxuriant in the ear. As we approach Valencia there are orchards of Pomegranate and Orange trees, the latter spoilt, as at Murcia, by being grown in bushes, cut down close to the ground and allowed to grow up with a dozen stems, like large Portugal Laurels. I had heard so much about the Orange groves of Valencia that I was greatly disappointed ; these bush trees are not to be compared for beauty to the large Orange trees of other sheltered regions of the Mediterranean. I presume they are cultivated in this way as a protection from the wind, which Orange trees cannot stand, especially if it comes from the north, north- east, or north-west. As the lower levels are reached a new feature appears — extensive Kice fields. These fields, on the river side, are VALENCIA. 267 surrounded with mounds of earth some eighteen inches high. The soil is ploughed, water is let in to soak it thoroughly, then the Rice is sown, water is again let in to the depth of six inches, and the seed ploughed in a second time under the water, the men and mules working with the plough knee deep. The water is allowed to remain on the land, renewed as it sinks in, and the Rice comes up as a water plant. From the cathedral tower of Valencia the entire expanse of this fruitful region is seen, extending down to the sea. Valencia is three miles from the coast, and the entire district is dotted with these Rice grounds. They are a serious drawback to the public health, giving rise, it is said, to much intermittent fever in the autumn. Spanish writers, and travellers in general, go into rap- tures about the wondrous beauty of these fertile valleys, but I must confess that I cannot join with them. Rice, corn, beans, scattered oil-producing Olive trees, silk- producing pollard Mulberry trees, Pomegranates, Vines, Orange bushes in rows like soldiers, are all very well in their way as evidences of cultivation and of a fertile soil, but unquestionably they no more conduce to beautiful scenery than does the cultivation of the market gardens round London or Paris. Indeed, these far-famed valleys are market gardens, nothing more, and bounded as they are by barren, naked, calcareous hills, they are inferior in natural beauty to any of the spurs of the Atlas ranges in Algeria, clothed with Ilex, Thuja, Mountain Ash, Cytisus, Lentiscus, or to any mountain vale in England in summer time. In winter, too, as many of the trees — the Fig, the Mulberry, the Apricot, the Pomegranate, the Vine — are deciduous, they must look nearly as naked and desolate as valleys in old England, more so than our conifer clothed districts. VALENCIA. Valencia is one of the largest cities of Spain, with a population of 108,000. It covers a large area of ground, and is the centre of Spanish civilization on the eastern coast. It has all the resources of a great city, including very tolerable hotels. Although the winter climate is no 268 SPAIN. doubt exceptionally good, it cannot, however, be considered a health city. The streets are very narrow, mere lanes, and the hotels are all situated, for convenience, in the very centre of the town, or in the small central squares. They are built and managed for the reception of commercial travellers, and of the travelling- public in general, not for that of health tourists, who are not wanted, expected, or prepared for. The large commercial cities of the Continent, such as Barcelona, Valencia, Malaga, Marseilles, Naples, may be compared to Bristol, Liverpool, Glasgow in Eng- land. They are not health cities, but social and commercial centres, in which invalids and sick people are not thought of. Health towns, such as Cheltenham, Tunbridge Wells, Torquay, Pan, Nice, and Mentone do not exist in Spain. Thus although the winter climate is excellent in some of these cities, real invalids cannot comfortably or prudently remain because there is no provision for them. Then the Bice grounds round Valencia are as much against a residence in the suburbs as the confined, close, stuffy streets are against a residence in the interior of the town. Lodgings might be had, I was told, on the Promenade, the Alameda, but how far the double influence would be avoided, and how far Spanish lodgings could be made comfortable, I cannot say. I would add, that as regards climate, although I believe that the winter climate of Valencia is dry, sunny, and mild, I much question whether it presents any advantage over the much more accessible Genoese Riviera. Indeed, from the examination of the vegetation, I found reason to conclude that the winter protection from north winds is less, and the winter cold greater at Valencia, as at Murcia. Whilst at Valencia I went over the Botanic Garden carefully. It appears to be more viewed and directed as a pleasure garden than as a scientific establishment, but even as such was interesting. The plants in flower (May 6) were the common flowers of our English gardens for June and July ; Monthly and Bengal Roses, with a few hybrid, and Tea Roses, Delphinium, Antirrhinum, Iberis, Iris, Stocks, Silene, Jasmin um revolutum, Ranunculus, Esch- scholtzia, Sweet William, Poppies, Verbena, Spiraea, Hab- rothamnus, Pseonies, Nasturtium, Pinks, Aquilegia, Petunia, VALENCIA — THE BOTANIC GARDENS. 269 Carnations, Collinsia, Viburnum, Convolvulus minor, Tri- tonia erocata, Oak-leaved Pelargonium, Virginian Stock, Aubrietia, Hydrangea. There was a glass-house, much neglected, in which I found Bougainvilleas, Lautanas, Vincas, Heliotropes, Pelargoniums, Cinerarias, Coleus, as at Murcia. In this glass-house were all the Palms, and Cvcadaceae, which are grown in the open air on the Genoese Riviera, with the exception of some Chamserops humilis and Latania Borbonica, planted out in a very- sheltered spot. Thus it contained Corypha Australis, Caryota, Dion edule, Thrinax, Cycas revoluta, Cordylines, Dracaenas, Yuccas, Ficus repens, Pereskia, Aralia, Philo- dendron, Russelia juncea, Cyperus alternifolius, Banana. There were Abutilons and Oleanders in the garden, but not in flower. It is from the above facts that I feel authorized to conclude, that the winter cold is greater at Valencia than on the Riviera. If it were not so, why- should plants that we can cultivate with ease in the open air be placed in glass-houses, and why also should the open gardens contain little else but what is found in the gardens of more northern European regions ? This can. be easily understood. The east coast of Spain, favoured as it is in climate, is bounded, north and west, by high mountains, and the towns of Murcia, Alicante, Valencia, are at some distance from the foot of these mountains — that is, from their protection — so that the cold winds fall down upon them. The Genoese Riviera, on the contrary, is at the very foot of the mountain wall that protects it ; and the cold winds, passing over, leave it basking in the south sun. At Valencia and in this region generally, the Lemon tree is only grown exceptionally, in very sheltered and warm situations, although in such localities it succeeds thoroughly. Nowhere did I find it grown in large orchards facing the sea, as on the Riviera, between Nice and San Remo. There were some large timber trees in the garden, which are often met with on the promenades in these regions of Spain : Paulownia imperialis, with elegant blue terminal flowers ; Celtis australis, a large beautiful tree ; Diospyros Lotus, Crataegus melanocarpa, Gleditschia triacanthos, Sophora Japonica, Schinus Mulli, Melia Azedarich. 270 SPAIN. I had now travelled over a considerable portion of the south-east coast of Spain, from Carthagena to Valencia, and had studied the vegetation and climate with intense interest. I had read of rainless tracts, but I had never seen such an one before, not even on the borders of the Sahara, and I was told it continues to Barcelona. If the rivers which descend from the mountain tableland of Spain were cut off, and if this sub-Alpine coast were left to the rains of heaven, it would clearly be a desert. It would be like the regions of the Desert of Sahara beyond the reach of the torrents that, falling in winter on the most southern ridges of the^ Atlas, run down their southern slopes, sink into the sands, and give rise to the oases by reascending to the surface. The fact was clear, but what is the cause ? Why should the east coast of Spain be nearly as rainless as the Desert of Sahara? It can easily be understood that the high mountains that fringe the western coast of Portugal and Spain should arrest the moisture of the north-west and south-west Atlantic winds, but why do not the north- easterly winds, which are reigning winds in winter in the Mediterranean, and which bring torrents of rain to Algeria, also bring rain to the eastern coast of Spain ? I think my previous journey to Algeria gave the key to this singular fact in physical geography. I believe that these north-easterly winds are actually sucked in by the Great Desert of Sahara before they reach the Spanish shore. The vacuum formed by the rising into the upper regions of space of the air heated by the sandy surface of the Great Desert is attended with a rush of air from the Mediterranean, sucked in to fill its place. From whatever quarters the wind comes, when it reaches the southern regions of the Mediterranean it feels the influence of the African Desert, and rushes south, bringing moisture to Algeria, to the Atlas mountains and valleys, and leaving the eastern coast of Spain in dry calmness. This is pro- bably the real explanation of the calm we met when forty miles from the coast, on crossing from Oran, and not the protection of Cape de Gata. The wind that opposed our progress on leaving Oran was rushing down to the Desert, THE CENTRAL TABLELAND. 271 and we left it behind us. Thus is explained a saying at Alicante that the bay is so habitually calm that it is a " woman's and child's sea/' as also the fact of the Mar- seilles and Algiers steamers always seeking shelter on the Spanish coast in storms. VALENCIA TO CORDOVA OVER THE TABLELAND OF SPAIN. The journey from Valencia to Cordova by rail takes the traveller into the centre of Spain, and of the high table- land (New Castile) in a westerly direction, then descends due south, crosses the Sierra Morena, and follows the valley of the Guadalquivir. For many hours, for hundreds of miles, the line crosses the monotonous calcareous plains already described, treeless and houseless, with no cattle to enliven the scene. The entire region seemed cultivated, but half or two-thirds was bare of all crops, lying fallow. This is, it appears, the Spanish system of cultivation, as with us ages ago. The land, naturally poor, with a thin soil lying on a calcareous base, very like the chalk downs and fields of Wiltshire, seldom or never manured, is allowed to lie fallow one or two years out of three, and thus to recover itself by the unaided efforts of Nature. The owner supplies the seed, and he and the tenant divide the crop. So in the years of drought or inactivity, as there is no rent paid or received, tenant and landlord both get on, if they can only keep body and soul together. Moreover, they both seem to be quite satisfied if this can be accomplished, and with their abstemious habits very little suffices. The fact, too, of the entire population being aggregated in towns, as in the Middle Ages, when men had to unite for mutual protection, at a distance from the seat of their labours, is a very great drawback, a national one. The men, with their southern fear of moisture, stay from work if it rains, or appears likely to rain, for festivities, for any excuse ; the women gossip all day, the children play about in the streets. Thus the peasant squanders his own time, and does not get that assistance from his family which he does when they ail live in the centre of the field of labour. No cattle are seen, and very few are kept on these plains , 272 SPAIN. and I was told that the value of manure is so little known that the peasantry require paying to take it away from the towns. As may he supposed, with such a soil and such views of cultivation, the rising crops of cereals, only from two to four inches high, were very thin, poor, and mise- rable, offering but little promise for the future. Even at this high elevation, from 2000 to 2500, or 3000 feet, there had been but little rain, and further rain, before the summer heat sets in, was anxiously expected. As already explained, the rainfall from the Atlantic winds is arrested by the high mountains on the western coast of Spain and of Portugal, whilst the easterly winds seem scarcely to reach this region of Spain, or to bring no rain with them. The destruction of the timber adds no doubt to the drought, as trees are well known to attract rain, in plains as well as on mountains. As to temperature, we had gone back to early April in England, and the cold was positively bitter, very trying after a month in Algeria and south-eastern Spain. There was not the vestige of a southern climate in the aspect of Nature. As the railway descending due south approaches . the Sierra Morena mountains, the direction of which is east and west, the geological nature of the soil changes. The calcareous soil and rocks are replaced by a siliceous soil, by schistic and sandstone rocks. With this change of soil at once appears a change in vegetation. The change is observed both north and south of the Morena mountains, which are crossed at first through picturesque gorges, and then by a tunnel at an elevation of 2600 feet. The familiar shrubs of the Corsican and Atlas granitic sandstone and schistic ranges reappear. The Cistus or Bock Rose, the Broom— the common European form with- out spines, not the prickly Broom of the above regions ; Thuja and Juniper Bushes, the Maritime and Aleppo Pines, Myrtle, Lentiscus, Mountain Lavender, and on the south side great numbers of the Chamserops humilis Palm. The Tamarisk fringes the river sides, and the Oleander is often seen along with it. Thus in Andalusia the vegetation of Northern Africa, of the Atlas ranges and rivers, is reproduced, especially along the course of the VALLEY OF THE GUADALQUIVIR. 273 Guadalquivir, and more decidedly than in Corsica, where, as stated, I never saw the Tamarisk, Oleander, nor Chamae- rops. It is singular that the Ckamserops Palm should be described as peculiar to Algeria, for in this part of Anda- lusia it is as common as Gorse on English heaths. I saw thousands of acres covered with this dwarf Palm, growing luxuriantly in tufts. Indeed it evidently propagates itself spontaneously wherever the soil in the Guadalquivir valley is too poor to tempt cultivation. As I had seen it likewise in the basaltic soils near Carthagena and Murcia, I have no doubt that it is to be found all over Southern Spain in siliceous districts, just as in Algeria, where it disappears the moment the soil becomes calcareous. This is another evidence of the geological union of Africa and Europe in former days. After passing the Sierra Morena the line descends rapidly, and soon reaches an elevation of 600 or 700 feet only. Then with a southern exposure, protection from north winds, more rain than on the eastern coast, and a sandy soil, vegetation becomes much more luxuriant than on the elevated central plain that we had just left. Still I saw nothing to warrant the raptures of poets and travellers when describing the far-famed Guadalquivir valley. It seems to me that these raptures are rather the result of comparison with surrounding nakedness and sterility than of any actual exuberant fertility of the valley itself. Although there is a good sized river rolling its precious waters in the midst of a wide and level plain, there is no irrigation. This at first puzzled me, for the entire region was many centuries in the hands of the Moors, who are the people who made and established the irrigation works of the really luxuriant valleys of Murcia, Valencia, and Granada. Indeed Cordova, which is built on the river bank, was the centre, the capital of their dominion. Then it occurred to me that it may be of but little use to irrigate a poor sandy soil, as the water must all sink through it, and do no good commensurate with the expense incurred. The valleys named above, where such extensive irrigation works have existed for centuries, and where they secure exuberant fertility, all principally contain lime soils. x 274 spain. Where the sandy or gravelly soil through which we passed was cultivated, the crops were thin and poor — in- deed wretched, and that without the excuse of altitude. Side by side with these cultivated regions were wide moor- lands covered with bush Ilex, Mountain Lavender, Broom, and the Chamaarops Palm, which no doubt in former days extended over the entire region, and yet remains, as we have seen, on the poorer uncultivated soils, just as Heather and Gorse remain with us. Still the country had a verdant, smiling look. In the vicinity of villages and towns, gene- rally built near the river, in regions where the alluvial soil is deeper, are groves of Olives, Figs, Pomegranates, and as we neared Cordova occasional Palms — the Phoenix dactylifera — were seen. The hill-sides in the distance were no longer naked, as in the lime regions, but clothed more or less with Ilex, Cork Oaks, Pines. Indeed, poor, . sandy, gravelly soils, when covered with very little vege- table soil, are everywhere, even in dry, warm climates, more verdant, more luxuriant with their peculiar vegeta- tion than lime rocks, hills, or soils under the same condi- tions. The vegetation that clothes these soils bears drought better, also, than that which lives in rich alluvial soils, especially when they rest on clay. The reason is no doubt that in sandy, gravelly soils the roots of the plants, shrubs, and trees can go down all but any distance in search of moisture and find it, whereas on lime soils and rocks, or on clays, when they reach the subsoil they stop short, and have to depend only for nourishment and moisture on what they find above. Thus I remember, in the very dry summer of 1868, being very much struck by the difference between the state of the vegetation of Surrey and Middlesex. In Surrey, where my country residence is situated, and where much of the soil is sand or gravel, the Weymouth Pines, Spruce Firs, Scotch Firs, Birch, Beech, Oaks, Chestnuts, Heather, were perfectly healthy and green in August, after three months'' drought. There was no perceptible difference as compared with other years. But when I crossed the river into Middlesex, on the rich alluvial soils lying on clay, I found a totally different state of things. The ground CORDOVA AND SEVILLE. 275 vegetation was parched — all but reduced to hay, and the trees were losing" their leaves as in November. Another reason may possibly be adduced, as my gardener suggested. Our Surrey plants are like poor people, accustomed to poor fare, so when a famine comes they bear privation better than their richer Middlesex neighbours, accustomed to a richer and better dietary. CORDOVA. AND SEVILLE. At Cordova and at Seville, both on the Guadalquivir river, latitude 37°, the same climate and vegetative con- ditions appear to prevail as on the south-east coast. The Date Palm is seen here and there, grown for ornament, not for fruit, which no doubt does not ripen. Orange trees grow splendidly in courtyards and gardens, protected by high walls from the north winds, as in the court- yard of the cathedral and in the gardens of the Alcazar at Seville; but they are not seen, as trees, in open, unpro- tected spaces, exposed to the north. In the public gardens, which are numerous, I found (May 11), the common garden flowers so often enumerated, about six weeks earlier than in the north of Europe ; but there was very little, if any, evidence of immunity from cold nights and cold winds in winter. There were Bengal, monthly, and common white Roses, but few hybrids or Teas, Delphiniums, Holly- hocks, Verbenas, Phlox, Pelargoniums, Aquilegia, Lilies, Carnations, Thlaspi, Sweet William, but no Lantanas, Abutilons, Daturas, Wigandias, and winter Salvias. These gardens, however, must be nearly as naked in winter as our own, or more so, as the trees grown axe nearly all deciduous, meant for summer shade. Clearly, the inhabi- tants of these regions accept the wdnter as winter, and have no idea of deceiving the eye, no wish to escape from its influence on the landscape by planting evergreens. The very summer-like look even of the Genoese Riviera is owing to the fact that the complete protection from northerly winds admits of a southern evergreen vegetation — Olive, Lemon, Orange trees — which exists all but alone. There was much to see, much to enjoy in these two, t 2 276 SPAIN. great cities, but T must leave the description of their charms to pleasure tourists. My business was merely to find out by actual observation, by the analysis of the vegetation, how far they are fit to be selected as a winter residence by confirmed invalids. Viewed in this light, the verdict, without any hesitation, is unfavourable. For persons slightly out of health, who wish to muse away a winter in a southern land, in the midst of the memories of former days, and who are disposed to select as the object of their studies and meditations the Moors and Saracens of Old Spain, their monuments, their habits and customs, which survive to this day, Cordova or Seville will do very well, and will reward the fatigues of the journey. There is immunity from actual cold weather, much sunshine, and the novelty of Spanish life and ways, in addition to the glamour of the past. The real invalid, however, intent on finding the best winter climate he can, in order to escape from severe suf- fering, or to save life, can do much better. All the dis- advantages enumerated as pertaining to Valencia and Murcia, are equally rife at Seville. The streets are narrow, the hotels are all in the centre of the town, the weather must be often cool, not to say cold, and a considerable amount of rain falls in the course of the winter, owing to proximity to the Atlantic. Both Cordova and Seville are in the plainlike valley of the Guadalquivir, which throws itself into the stormy Atlantic Ocean a little to the south-west. None of the towns of the south or Moorish region of Spain present any grandeur, anything worthy of notice in an architectural point of view, with the exception of their cathedrals. That of Cordova is a magnificent Moorish mosque, still presenting eleven hundred Saracenic columns, although two hundred were destroyed, with very bad taste, under Charles V., to make way for a Gothic addition, a nave, very grand in its proportions, but sadly out of harmony with the mosque to which it was dovetailed. The Seville cathedral is one of the most magnificent monuments of Gothic architecture that I have ever seen, from the immense height of the columns and of the roof which they THE CORDOVA AND SEVILLE CATHEDRALS. 277 support. The Alcazar, or the remains of the Moorish Palace, is worthy of all praise and admiration. The towns themselves, on the contrary, are mean in the extreme. They are composed of small, whitewashed, two- storied houses, enclosed in tortuous streets from ten to fifteen feet wide. Most of these streets are quite inaccessible to a carriage, and in those that are so used, two carriages can only pass each other at foot's-pace. Owing to the diminutive size of the dwelling-houses, and to the narrowness and insignificance of the streets, the grandeur and stateliness of the Seville cathedral, produced, as did that of Murcia, a peculiar impression on my mind. It would seem as if the town, with its human inhabitants, had been nothing, whilst religion and the church had been everything, towering as the latter does immeasurably above humanity. No doubt this was the impression meant to be conveyed, and who would do otherwise than acknowledge, with humility and reverence, the correctness of the anti- thesis, had the religion of those who created these magnifi- cent temples cast a truly Christian mantle over the country. Unfortunately, it was not so at Seville. Whilst gazing on the grand cathedral it is impossible not to recollect the gloomy fanaticism that reigned in its walls for centuries, under the cloak of religion. The horrible tyranny of the Inquisition, the terrible human sacrifices that bloodthirsty institution periodically demanded, with its frequent " auto- da-fe," and its dungeons filled with victims during centuries of oppression, all rose bodily before me. In no part of Spain were greater horrors perpetrated under the mask of religion. This gloomy religious tyranny dwarfed the intellect of the Spanish nation, destroyed its national prosperity, and made it what it is at present, a mere shadow of the past. Now that these shackles have been cast off for ever, now that mental as well as political freedom has been attained, we may hope that a glorious future is opening out for Spain as well as for Italy. As Wordsworth truly says in the verses quoted at the head of this chapter, there are Fo rusts of men, good and true, yet to be found in Spain. The nation is sound at the core, and, once freed from the trammels of superstition, ignorance, and bad government, will no doubt 278 spain. rise in the scale of humanity, and again assume its rank among nations, but time is required. The Spaniards are a race of mountaineers, hardy, sober, abstemious, enduring of fatigue, kind, and cheerful. They have only been too true to their selfish, fanatical rulers, who have constantly led them to death in a bad cause, have constantly traded on their simple-minded devotion and affec- tion to religion and to the king. By supporting a corrupt court for many years, the clergy have lost their hold on the respect of the nation, and have fallen with the court, and that most deservedly. Nearly all the best houses are built on the Moorish model, as at Algiers. They have a central court or garden, which is often adorned by a fountain as well as by flowers. The life of the family is centred in and around this court, or interior garden. In summer, an awning is drawn over from above, and it becomes the general sitting-room during the hot weather. We received the greatest kindness and civility from all classes of Spaniards, both in the towns and on the roads. All we met seemed to vie with each other to help us on. We were more especially struck with this cordial civility in Seville. Owing to the tortuous nondescript character of the streets, we generally lost our way when we went out without an interpreter, and all but invariably the first person of whom we asked the road volunteered to take us home. On one afternoon, I and my friends, three in number, all went out separately ; we all four lost our way, and we were all four brought back to the hotel by four different persons, the first to whom we appealed. MALAGA. From Seville I took the railway to Malaga. The line passes in a south-easterly direction across some hilly fertile plains, then ascending through a mountainous district, pierces the Sierra Nevada by a series of deep cuttings and tunnels. On emerging, it descends rapidly into a cultivated plain, at the edge of which, on the southern coast of Spain, is Malaga. I was much disappointed with much vaunted Malaga. MALAGA. 279 It is a close, confined Spanish commercial seaport, with 110,000 inhabitants packed into a very small area, the streets being from five to ten feet wide only. The port is dirty, the shore contaminated with all kinds of filth, both inside the town and for some distance from it. The hotels are gloomy and dingy, and situated on a miserable promenade — the only one in the town. This, the Alameda, is merely 300 yards long by forty broad, planted with double rows of shabby deciduous trees, Elm, Acacia, Sophora Japonica, Melia Azedarach and small Planes, so that in winter it must be quite naked. There are some noseless busts, and any number of mendicants and gutter children. This is the resort, the solace, of the poor invalids condemned for their sins to winter here. The only real garden within three miles of the town is the English cemetery,, on a burnt-up hill-side, where even the Pelargoniums had scarcely any foliage, owing to the long drought, merely a few terminal leaves and flowers. Here at last there really was the evidence of a very mild southern winter, such as we have at Mentone, in the presence of Lantana, Bougainvillea, Carouba, Schinus Mulli, Heliotrope, Aloe. But the evidence of exceptional winter mildness was still more marked in a garden belonging to an American merchant, about three miles from the town, at the base of the mountains which, rising due north behind Malaga to a height of 3000 feet, protect it thoroughly from northerly winds. Here I found, in full flower, Euphorbia jacquini- nora, Russelia juncea, Lantanas, Abutilons, Habrothamnus, Salvia Horminum, gesnerseflora, Bouvardia flava, Erythrina crista galli (Coral tree), Gaillardia, Pittospermum ; indeed, the same winter flowers and vegetation as at Mentone. I may add that Malaga is the only place in Algeria or Spain where I found the same evidence of winter mildness or entire immunity from frost as on the Genoese Riviera from Nice to San Remo. The winter climate of Malaga must present the same exceptional mildness, but the social and sanitary conditions are vile, so bad as entirely to neutralize the climate advantages ; unless one could have the country house I saw, or a similar one, miles from the town, at the base of the ravine or gorge by which Malaga is reached by 280 SPAIN. rail . In descending through this valley, I saw very fine Orange trees. Such being the case, the climate of Malaga beino*. as proved by its vegetation, exceptionally mild and dry, with- out losing the bracing character that pertains to all " dry" European climates in winter, it would seem that the en- comiums conferred upon it by many writers are justified. And so they would be. if Malaga were' a healthy city, or were there healthy suburban residences or hotels, in good, situations, in which invalids could reside. Unfortunately, however, none of these conditions are realized. The city is situated on a sandy plain on a dead level, its streets are even narrower and closer than those of Seville or Valencia, and its sanitary condition is decidedly worse. It may be thought that a mere flying visit does not entitle me to speak so authoritatively on the subject, so I will quote other data. There have been five epidemics of cholera at Malaga since 1832, when it first appeared in Europe, and none of the densest and most unhealthy centres of European population have been more afflicted. It is a well-known fact that cholera has constantly chosen the most populated and most unhealthy cities in which to exercise its ravages, and the fact of five epidemics of cholera having occurred in any locality during the thirty-seven years that have elapsed since it first appeared in Europe must be fatal to a repu- tation for salubrity. I would, also, refer my readers to the most recent writer on the climate of Malaga, Dr. More Madden, in his pam- phlet entitled (( The Climate of Malaga in the Treatment of Chronic Pulmonary Disease. Dublin, 1865." At page 18 Dr. Madden says very graphically and ex- plicitly : — sl The hygienic condition of Malaga is as defective as it can well be. In a great many of the houses there is no provision for sewage of any kind; and even in the more civilized part of the city, in the hotels on the Alameda, the drainage is very bad indeed. The main sewers, which run under the principal streets, are choked up by the de- composing accumulation of years, and being provided with THE UNHEALTHINESS OF MALAGA. 281 immense square openings, through which the dirt and rubbish are thrown into them, in the centre of the streets, the mephitic gases evolved below freely escape into the atmosphere of the narrow lanes of the city. The bed of the Guadalmedina is really the main sewer of Malaga ; and as for nearly ten months annually it is little more than a wide dry bed of gravel, being dependent on the torrents in winter for its purification, the odour it exhales in warm weather renders a residence near it as disagreeable as it is un- healthy. M The connexion between epidemic disease and bad sewage is, I think, very well illustrated in Malaga, which has at all times been remarkable for the prevalence of zymotic disease. I have collected from the older Spanish writers notices of no less than twenty-two epidemic pestilences, some of which almost depopulated the city, between 1493 and 1804. The earlier of these seem to have been epidemics of genuine Oriental plague, and the latter generally assumed the form of yellow fever. Of late years, since 1834, these pestilences have not appeared, but their place has been taken by Asiatic cholera, which has several times ravaged the town." The above most inviting description of Malaga is written by the author of a recent work on climate, who, after tra- velling all over Europe to find the best winter sanitarium for the consumptive, has fixed on this most salubrious town as the sought-for Eldorado. So that this chosen European habitat, in former and present times, of the plague, yellow fever and cholera, is to be selected to restore the health of our poor countrymen and women, already debilitated by disease, constitutionally broken down, and a prey to an organic malady. Surely, as I have repeatedly stated, it is mere wanton trifling with human life to send such sufferers, with a view to the recovery of their health, to winter in large, unhealthy southern towns like Rome, Naples, and Malaga, foci of malaria and of epidemic and zymotic diseases. Does not "the simplest common sense tell us that invalids, with the seeds of death in them, should not be located for months in the centre of towns where even the healthy cannot live, and die annually at the late of thirty or more in the 282 spain. thousand ? Singularly enough, I believe I am the first, and as yet the only writer on climate, who has recognised and forcibly insisted on the all-important and self-evident fact that consumptive patients should reside, winter and summer, in England or abroad, where they can breathe pure air night and day — that is, in the country, in healthy villages, in the healthy outskirts of towns. Their breathing pure air is of infinitely more importance than a few degrees of temperature more or less, or a little more or less protec- tion from this or that wind. A fact so consonant with modern physiology and pathology has only to be brought forward to be universally acknowledged, and the time is near when medical men will wonder how they could ever think of cooping up their patients in unhealthy southern towns for the sake of warmth, which they do not get. Better far that they should stay at home than purchase exemption from the cold of our climates by exposure to hygienic conditions which produce, as a matter of course, in successive generations, plague, yellow fever, and cholera. Guided by what I saw myself, and by what Dr. More Madden and others tell us, as above, I consider I am per- fectly warranted in advising the medical profession to strike Malaga out of the list of winter resorts for invalids for the present, notwithstanding its really good climate. When hotels and villas, combining the requirements of English invalids, have been built some miles out of the town, at the base of the hills, where the wealthy Malaga merchants have established their country residences, and when the state of the country renders it safe to inhabit them, then, and then only, will it be prudent for invalids to winter at Malaga. MALAGA TO GRANADA. We started for Granada at six o'clock in the morning, in a kind of one-bodied omnibus stage drawn b}' eight mules, and at once struck the mountain to the north-east at the foot of which Malaga is situated. The road wound up the south sides of the mountain for three hours, giving us a splendid view of the city, which seemed to have MALAGA TO GRAXADA. 283 crouched itself around the large cathedral, on one side of a triangular plain, bounded by mountains and the sea. These mountains are schistic in formation, friable, and water- worn into innumerable sugar-loaf cones, the sides of which are everywhere planted with Vines. The Tines are cut down to the stumps annually, and at the time of my visit (May 14) were just sprouting, so that the hill-sides, at a distance, seemed covered with Grass. The Vine-clad hills spoke of a rich wine country. The best raisins also come from Malaga, and are prepared from a muscatel grape which is grown on these mountain slopes. London alone receives 12,000 tons yearly. As we ascended, the Chamserops humilis, the Genista, Cytisus, and Mountain Lavender, showed themselves as usual. We left the thermometer 72° at night, 78° in the day, at Malaga, to find it three hours later, at an elevation of 3000 feet, only 58° at nine o } clock, with a cold wind. Ilex, Cork Oak, cereals, and Vines occupied the hill-sides, until we descended to lime- stone rocks and soil, where the Olive, Fig, Carouba, Mul- beny, reappeared, with luxuriant ground crops, and near water Lombardy Poplars, White Poplars, and Willows. This is the character of the luxuriant irrigated valley around Granada, the renowned "Vega,'"' which repeats at an elevation of about 2000 feet the fertility of the Murcian and Valencian lime valleys. There is more general verdure, however, for it really does rain in the province of Granada, so that cultivation does not depend entirely on irrigation. The eutire country, from the moment the mountains which overcap and protect Malaga had been crossed, bore the evidence of winter rain. Altitude and proximity to the Atlantic clearly controlled other influences. The mode of travelling greatly interested us. We had a postillion on one of the first mules, a coachman with long reins on a high box, and a supplementary driver, called the mayoral, sitting at his feet at times, but oftener running by the side of the mules, whipping and urging them on. The endurance of the young postillion and of this mayoral positively amazed us. The former rode all the journey, eighty miles ; he was twelve hours in the saddle. The latter ran, a great part of the day, by the side of the 284 SPAIN. mules, lashing them, shooting at them at the top of his voice, and often throwing stones with which he filled his pockets. This was, no doubt, the way in which travelling was carried on all over Spain before the days of railways. We thus passed through a deal of pretty moun- tain scenery, Vine-clad hills, fertile Olive and Mulberry- covered valleys. THE ALHA.MBB.A. THE COUflT OE LIONS. Granada, when I saw it in the middle of May, was very lovely with spring verdure. Owing to its altitude, £500 feet, in the midst of a mountain region, there is no lack of moisture; indeed, it rained heavily while I was there. In winter, I was told, it is often very cold, snow falls and SPANISH TRAVELLING. 285 it freezes ; whilst in the height of summer it is very hot, as are all similar elevations in Spain. Thus Granada is only fitted for a spring or autumn residence. In winter it is too cold, in summer too warm. The great attraction is the Alhambra, the palace of the Moorish caliphs in the days of old, still in wonderful preservation. This " archi- tectural dream" deserves a week's scrutiny and study. It is an earthly realization of the Mahommedan's idea of paradise. Surrounded by flowers and houris the sensual Mahommedan could here shut out the world and fancy that he had really crossed the bridge as sharp as a razor, supported by a guardian angel, and had arrived at the paradise promised to all good Mussulmans by Mahommed. Time was precious, so I was obliged to tear myself away from the fascinations of Granada and the Alhambra, and to pursue my pilgrimage "homewards." GRANADA TO MADRID. We left Granada in splendid style, in a grand diligence just like the old French three-bodied diligences of former days, drawn by a string of twelve handsome mules. We had the three attendants, the postillion, the coachman, and the mayoral, or supernumerary mule-whipper. The postillion rode all day, from four o'clock in the morning until five in the afternoon, when we reached the railway at Andujar. A Spanish travelling companion told me that before the railroad was opened to Andujar the same postillion used to ride from Granada to Madrid, two days and a night, and sometimes died at the end of the journey. The driver had clearly the best of it, for he sat still, merely holding the reins and occasionally using his long whip. The mayoral, like the postillion, had a hard time, for he was up and down every five minutes, and was as often running by the side of the mules, shouting at the top of his voice, lashing out with a long whip, or throwing stones at them, as sitting in his seat at the feet of the driver. These men afforded a good illustration of the power and endurance of human muscle and vitality in youth under efficient and constant training. 286 SPAIN. Until we struck the Guadalquivir valley, a few miles before reaching the rail, we were all day in a mountain district, between 1500 and 2500 feet above the sea. Here it clearly rains in winter, and the scenery was very pic- turesque and lovely. The rocks were generally secondary, cretaceous, with here and there schistic deposits from the higher primary mountains. In the lower valleys we found the Olive, Mulberry, Poplar, Willow, in the higher schistic regions, the Cork Oak, the Ilex, sometimes grand trees, with the Broom and similar shrubs. The Hawthorn was very common on the roadside, and being in flower gave quite an English look to the road. We took the railway at six for Madrid, but I was de- termined not to spend a night on the road, such a course being altogether opposed to my travelling principles. I was told that there was no bearable place where I could find accommodation for the night to break the journey, but I determined to run any risk, and stopped at 10.30, at Val de Penas, a little town, the centre of a- well known wine district. I and a friend, who was willing to try the adventure, were deposited at the station, half a mile from the town. I managed to make the station-master under- stand that we wanted beds, and he sent a porter off with us. In a few minutes we reached Val de Penas, an assem- blage of one or two-storeyed, whitewashed houses, in wide, clean, regular streets at right angles to each other. We knocked at a small but respectable dwelling-house, the inmates of which had retired to rest, and after some demur were admitted, and shown into a " Moorish" quadrangular courtyard, with an arcade all round. A bustling, good- natured woman ushered us into a nice clean room, opening on this arcade, where we found two decent beds, and after the hard day's journey from Granada, we soon found oblivion in slumber. We had not to leave Val de Penas until one o' clock, so did not rise very early. On appearing we found our lively and obliging hostess busily employed combing the long black tresses of a dark-eyed grown-up daughter, who was sitting on a chair in the courtyard. This performance concluded, with sundry amiable nods and smiles from A XIGHT AT VAL DE PEXAS. 287 mother and daughter, we contrived, partly by signs, to make known our wants for breakfast, which were attended to. The repast was a very pleasant one, and partaken with a certain degree of state under the arcade, for the best crockery, evidently treasured cariosities, was brought out for the occasion. By this time we had found out that we were not in a " Posada," but guests of the blacksmith of the village. The station-master had rightly concluded that we should be better treated there than at the inns, which we subsequently saw, and which did not look very tempting. Whilst we were breakfasting our hosts sat down near us, and what with signs, smiles, ges- tures, and the few words of Spanish we could muster we managed to keep up an animated conversation. TVe were evidently even more a subject of curiosity to them than they were to us. After breakfast we made a perambulation in the town, and were everywhere received with great cordiality and civility. The population bore stamped on their features good nature, sobriety, hard work, and health. They clearly belong to the simple-minded race to which I have alluded, to the race that has for centuries shed its blood like water to defend superstition, naively thinking it was supporting religion, and to protect a corrupt race of kings and nobles, under the impression that it was performing a sacred duty to its native country. Such a race, once educated, emancipated from the trammels of superstition and of fealty to corrupt rulers, who have forfeited every claim to respect and support, is sure, as I have said, again to raise the name of Spain to a high rank in the family of nations. Amongst other houses that we visited was a large wine exporter's premises. The business was carried on in a spacious quadrangular courtyard of the usual character sur- rounded by buildings. In addition to vats containing wine, there were an immense number of pigskins, some filled with wine and doing duty for casks, others in the various stages of preparation for that purpose. The skins are very artistically pulled off the animal, so as only to leave two good sized holes, one at the neck the other at the 288 spain. tail, and four small ones at the feet. The larger holes are pieced with pieces of skin ; the smaller are sewn tightly, so that no escape of the wine is possible. Previously to this being done the bristles are scraped off and the skins sub- mitted to some softening process ; we saw hundreds thus preparing for use. At one o'clock we regained the train, mightily pleased with this little insight into Spanish village life, and grateful for the cordiality of our reception by all with whom we had come in contact. MAD1UD. Madrid is not like any other city that I saw in Spain. In its modern part, at least, it resembles a portion of Paris or of Bordeaux. The houses are tall, many-windowed French houses, and the streets are tolerably wide Parisian streets. The most peculiar feature about Madrid is its situation in a plain 2700 feet above the sea, ten miles from the southern base of the Guadarrama chain of mountains. The mere altitude makes it cold even in the latitude of 40° in winter, and the situation at some distance from the foot of high mountains covered with snow from autumn to spring, exposes it to dry, piercing down draughts and winds from the north. These meteorological conditions reiider the inhabitants liable to acute inflammatory affec- tions of the chest, which are very common, severe, and fatal. In the summer the elevation does not preserve Madrid in this latitude from extreme heat. It is then. as fiercely dry and hot as it is dry and cold in winter. When I was there, May 20, the temperature was cool and agree- able, and the weather very pleasant. This I was told is generally the case in spring and autumn. There is much to see at and near Madrid, but as I had only a few days to dispose of, after examining the magnifi- cent picture galleries, I turned my attention to my usual study, vegetation as illustrating climate. It is most interesting to observe at Madrid, on an ex- tensive scale, how elevation neutralizes latitude. Judging from the vegetation, the winter and spring must be nearly as cold as they are in England, although the summers are VEGETATION AT MADRID. 289 much hotter. When I was there, May 18, there were but few spring flowers in the public gardens, and the planting out of Geraniums, Heliotropes, Verbenas, had but just been completed. There were Stocks, Pansies, Delphinium, Sweet "William, Aquilegia, Eschscholtzia, Silene, Antirrhinum Arabis, in flower or coming into flower. The deciduous trees had just made their new leaves; there were but few conifers or evergreens. I found the names of several orna- mental trees which I had seen in other parts of Spain with- out being able to obtain their designation. The following were growing as large trees : — Cercis siliquastrum, Ailantus glandulosa, Celtis australis, Pinus maritima, P. Halepensis, Robinia pseudo-Acacia, very commonly used all over Spain as a town tree, no doubt from its doing well with little water. The same may be said of the Sophora Japonica and of the Melia Azedarach, Celtis occidentalis, Tilia inter- media, Gleditschia triacanthos, Negundo fraxinifolium, Broussonetia papyrifera, Acer pseudo-Plantanus, Acacia Earnesiana, Prosopis siliquastrum, Platanus occidentalis, Duvaua dependens, Gymnocladus Canadensis, Robinia umbraculifera, Cedrus Libani, Populus canacens, Acer campestre, Cupressus horizontalis. The soil at Madrid is partly siliceous, the great mountains which rise to the north to a height of 5000 or 6000 feet being- granitic. The railway from Madrid to the northern frontier ascends to a height of nearly 6000 feet, into an Alpine country thickly wooded with Conifers and Oaks. The latter were then beginning (the 20th of May) to send forth their leaves. It is the north winds from these snow-covered mountains that contribute so much to embitter the climate of Madrid. On their northern slopes the mountains are, for a great dis- tance, barren and treeless. True to the principle not to travel at night, I stopped at Valladolid and at Burgos to break the journey, and found both these cities worth visiting. They are much less Spanish than the towns south of the Guadarrama chain. The streets are tolerably wide, whilst the houses reach three storeys, and are not all whitewashed. Altogether there is a northern character about them, explained by the elevation, which is considerable, and by the consequent u 290 spaix. coldness of the winter temperature. In Valladolid I saw the house in which Christopher Columhus died, a memorable monument ; and also the house and room in which Michael Cervantes wrote Don Quixote. I sat for some minutes at the very window from which he must have daily looked when composing his renowned work. At Burgos the great sight is the cathedral, a truly magnificent structure, quite worthy of twenty-four hours' delay on the part of the passing traveller. After leaving Burgos we rapidly approached the Pyrenees and their spurs, passing through the Basque province. Here we lost sight of the peculiar features of central and eastern Spain as a rainless, treeless country with warm shores and cold high central plains. Trees, forests, pastures made their appearance, as also the outward evidence of thoughtful, skilful cultivation. It was clear that we were approaching the shores of the Atlantic, and the moist climate of the western coast of Europe. St. Sebastian was reached, then the French frontier, and a few minutes later Biarritz. CLIMATE AND MEDICAL CONCLUSIONS. The medical conclusions at which I have arrived, respect- ing the climate of Spain, have been recorded as I have progressed in the narration of my tour, so I have now merely to recapitulate. The health regions of Spain are confined to the eastern and south-eastern coasts, at the foot of the central table- land. Owing to the south and north-westerly winds having their moisture precipitated by the mountains of the western and central regions of Spain, and owing to the north-easterly winds being pulled down to Algeria by the Desert of Sahara, the eastern coast of Spain is probably the driest region of Europe, drier even than the Genoese Riviera. This eastern coast of Spain is also one of the mildest winter regions of Europe, although with the exception of Malaga, and its vicinity, probably not quite so mild, not quite so free from slight winter frosts, as the more pro- tected regions of the Genoese undercliff. CLIMATE AND MEDICAL CONCLUSIONS. 291 Such being the case, all that I have stated in the medical chapter on the Riviera equally applies to these regions of Spain. Its climate must be equally beneficial in all cases requiring dry, mild, bracing, sunny, stimulating winter weather. THE ALHAMBEA. TJ 2 CHAPTER X. CO£FU— THE IONIAN ISLANDS— GREECE — THE ARCHI- PELAGO—CONSTANTINOPLE—THE DANUBE. " ? Tis Greece, but living Greece no more ! So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there. * * * # # Fair clime, where every season smiles" Benignant o'er these blessed isles, There mildly dimpling, Ocean's cheek Beflects the tints of many a peak Canght by the laughing tides that lave These Edens of the eastern wave." Byron— The Giaour. One of the most enjoyable modes of returning home after a winter spent in Italy is by the route described at the head of this chapter. I had long wished to take this journey, not only for pleasure,, but also to study the spring vegeta- tion and the climate of the north shore of the Mediterranean east of Italy. At last the long-contemplated plan became feasible, and in the evening of April 27th, 1872, I started from Brindisi on an Austrian Lloyd steamer for Corfu. The weather was fine, the sea calm, and the vessel large and commodious. As soon as the lights of Brindisi began to pale on the horizon I retired, passed a very comfortable night, and next morning by six was on deck, anxious to ascertain the state of things. We had crossed the mouth of the Adriatic in the night, and were running a south- easterly course, a few miles only from the shore of Albania, at the foot of precipitous limestone mountains, ap- parently from 4000 to 6000 feet high. At the higher elevations there were still patches of snow glistening in the THE VOYAGE TO CORFU. 293 sun, and creating rivulets that trickled down the mountain, to lose themselves in the sea. The sun was shining brightly on the bold irregular precipitous mountains, bringing into clear relief their pro- jections and recesses. To the eye these appeared naked, but on examination with a glass it became evident that they were covered with brushwood, probably Kosemary, Thyme, Lentiscus, Juniper, and Myrtle. When the moun- .tains became less precipitous, the folds, depressions, ravines, were covered with patches of Conifers, principally the Pinus Halepensis or Aleppo Pine, I was subsequently informed. Curiosity as to our whereabouts thus gratified, my eyes turned instinctively to my fellow passengers, who, like myself, had abandoned their berths and were leaning over the side of the vessel, looking landwards, entranced by the beauty of the scenery, by the glorious harmonies of the sea, the mountains, and the sky, lit up by southern sun- shine. They were only seven, a Greek gentleman on his way to Athens, whose acquaintance I had made at Brindisi, and an English gentleman and family bound for Con- stantinople, via Corfu, Athens, and Smyrna. My Greek friend had passed a day with me at the com- modious Brindisi Hotel. He was partner in a large London house, and had spent nearly twenty years in the East without revisiting Europe. He had not seen his native country for a much longer period, and was in a feverish state of patriotic impatience to revisit once more Athens, where he was born, and the haunts of his youth. He had made a handsome fortune in the East, he told me, and meant to buy land, to invest capital, and to help to regenerate Greece. Indeed, he was full of day-dreams for the prosperity and glory of his beloved country. He had with him his "son," a dear little boy of five, whom be wished to introduce to the land of his forefathers. He had taken the child from his mamma's lap, promising that he and a trusty man-servant would do all required. The duties most audaciously undertaken by the father and his valet were most serupulously performed, but the child was more than a match for the two, and was often the cause of a degree of perplexity and of bewilderment, amusing to witness. 294 CORFU AND THE IONIAN ISLANDS. The English gentleman was a good illustration of the educated English paterfamilias. He was a University man, a good classical scholar, an ex-M.P., and had travelled a deal in his youth. Being desirous to show his family a little of the world, he told me he had just started with his wife, son, daughter, and niece, an ample supply of Murrays' and introductions to our Ministers and Consuls, for a two months' Eastern tour. We travelled side by side until I left Constantinople, and the companionship of this family proved most agreeable, taking away all feeling of loneliness. As we progressed the Albanian mountains became less precipitous, small plains appeared near their base, in which large Olive trees were growing, and their presence was soon followed by the appearance of a village or town — Bucintro. In all civilized parts of the world the habita- tions of man make their appearance simultaneously with the evidences of fertility ; with the appearance of land that will produce what he lives upon, animal or vegetable. The civilization, however, of these Albanian villages, lost in the folds of their wild mountains, would appear to be at rather a low ebb, if, at least, the captain of our steamer is to be relied on. In reply to a question as to the people who in- habited them, he exclaimed, " E una razza maledetta," adding that it would be an evil hour for us were our vessel wrecked on that coast ! Perhaps the Albanian villagers were belied, and were better than their reputation. When opposite Bucintro, on turning round, we saw rising out of the sea, to the south-west, a rocky barren island about six miles in circumference, inhabited by a few fishermen only, the island of Fano. It is fifty miles from the nearest point of the Italian coast, Otranto, and twelve from the island of Corfu. The latter also appeared on the south horizon, apparently a continuation of and a pro- jection from the Albanian mountain land. Our steamer directed its course to the angle of junction, and we soon discovered and entered a channel only two miles wide, which separates the northern extremity of Corfu from the Albanian coast. The channel soon widens and forms a lake-like expanse, exquisitely lovely, and eight miles in width, opposite the town of Corfu. This lake-like expan- THE TOWN OF CORFU. 295 sion of the channel between the island and the mainland may be compared to fifty Loch Lomonds, surrounded by fifty Ben Lomonds. We breakfasted as comfortably as on the Scotch loch steamer, whilst passing rapidly over the blue waters, land-locked and surrounded by beautiful mountains, arriving at eleven in the harbour of Corfu. Corfu is a crescent-shaped island, of limestone formation, latitude 39° 30', lying all but north and south, and separated from the mainland by a channel of variable width, two miles at its northern outlet, twelve in the centre, six at the southern outlet. The width of the island, which is mountainous, varies from twenty miles in the north to three or four in the south. The town of Corfu is situated on the eastern shore, at about its centre, facing the Albanian coast and mountains. It is composed of the citadel, the town, and the suburbs. The citadel occupies the summit of a small plain, about two hundred feet above the sea. It comprises the principal fortifications, including two castles, the former English governor's palace, and a wide esplanade, now a public garden. The citadel over- looks the harbour and the town, the narrow streets of the latter occupying the sloping hill-sides between it and the sea. The town of Corfu is singularly interesting to the northern traveller, more so than any other town I saw in Greece, not excepting Athens. The picturesque, bright- coloured Grecian and Albanian costumes are very numerous — all but universal — meeting you at every turn; and every transaction of life is carried on in the Greek language. The names of the streets, the names and the occupations of the shopkeepers, the Government judicial, and trading announcements and advertisements are all in Greek. The years passed at school and college revert to the mind, with Thucydides and Sophocles, and all the memories of that very hard-working period of life; I was enchanted, and rambled about hour after hour. I kept to my Greek friend and his boy, following them to a very good hotel over- looking the esplanade and the citadel, where we were per- fectly comfortable. I found him an agreeable companion, and we drove about the island together, he with a view to investments, I intent on the study of vegetation. 296 CORFU AND THE IONIAN ISLANDS. Corfu, at the time I saw it, the end of April, is certainly one of the loveliest spots on the face of the earth. An- chored out at sea, from six to twelve miles distant from the mainland, it has ever before it the magnificent range of limestone mountains that skirts the Albanian coast, wooded to the sea at their base, bold, naked, jagged, precipitous in their upper elevation. The island is merely the summit of a submarine mountain range, rising and falling, furrowed by valleys, ravines, depressions, narrowing and widening, presenting every possible inequality of surface from its highest peak (1900 tiet) to the sea which surrounds it. Owing to the lon^ occupation of the Ionian islands by the English, and to Corfu having been the centre of Government, it has been polished, civilized, up to our standard, like Malta. The influence of former days is still felt, although our protectorate has come to an end, and it has now become a part of the kingdom of Greece. The principal hotels are clean and comfortable, the roads all over the island are as good as in England, and good carriages with civil drivers are to be had without trouble. I fell it quite a luxury to drive about on good roads, in a comfortable carriage, in the midst of the familiar Mediter- ranean vegetation, growing with exuberant fertility, warmed by the southern sun, and generally in view of the blue sea waves ; for the sea is seldom lost sight of for long together, owing to the narrowness of the island. It is only, however, in the numerous depressions, valleys, ravines that this exuberant fertility shows itself. The heights and elevations accessible to northern winds from the continent are either naked or clothed with Pines, the Maritime and Aleppo Pines principally. This fact gives the key to the climate of Corfu. On the same line of latitude (39°) as the south of Italy, the centre of Sardinia, Majorca, Valencia, its vegetation is equally southern — equally or even more luxuriant — wherever there is protection from the continental or north winds. These winds fall upon Corfu owing to its being eight or ten miles out at sea, thus distant from the protection which the Albanian mountains give to the regions at their base. In all such sheltered regions I found (April 28th) in the VEGETATION OE CORFU. 297 gardens and elsewhere the vegetables, flowers, and fruits which appear at the end of June in England — Peas, Broad Beans, Strawberries, Roses of all sorts, in full flower, Banksia, Bengal, Tea, hybrid ; Delphinium, Collinsia, Antirrhinum, Carnation, Pink. The Acacia and Horse Chestnut trees were going out of blossom, as were all spring flowers. The Mulberry and deciduous Oaks were in full leaf. The Ailantus gl andulosa, which is extensively grown, had only just begun to form its terminal branches and leaves. The Orange trees were in blossom, and some had still on them large, well-formed fruit. They were healthy and large, but only found in the deepest valleys, in the most sheltered localities ; I saw but few Lemon trees. One day I drove over to a village called Benitza, seven miles from Corfu, through a most smiling and picturesque country, through villages full of gaily-dressed, apparently well-to-do peasants. It was Sunday, and they were all in the streets in their holiday costume — a very pretty sight. In these southern villages on fete days the people spend the day together out of doors, at the entrance of their houses, in the squares, in the streets, round the fountains. The girls shyly assemble and herd in bevies or flocks, whilst the young men on their side do the same, both eyeing each other at a distance. Benitza contains, I was told, the largest Orange grove in the island. The village and the Orange orchard, which latter only occupies a few acres, are situated in a smiling valley, sheltered on every side except on the south-east, where it reaches the sea. Even here a thick screen of Cypress trees had been planted, in order to form a protec- tion against the south-east wind. Notwithstanding the shelter they afforded, the Orange trees nearest to the sea were not healthy, many of their terminal branches being leafless and dead. Thus the vegetation of Corfu indicates a climate and soil similar in their main features to that of the coast line of the western Riviera in its more sheltered regions. But this similarity only exists in the protected depressions and valleys where there is clearly immunity from severe winter frosts, with intense and continued summer heat, and 298 CORFU AND THE IONIAN ISLANDS. enough rain to secure fertility. This is indicated by the great size and. healthiness of the Olive and Orange trees, and by the existence of some good-sized healthy Lemon trees in the open air. The latter, however, are so few in number, and so limited to thoroughly sheltered localities, that it is evident the winter frosts are more severe generally than on the Riviera between Nice and San Remo, where, as we have seen, they are found in groves or orchards, covering the lower sides of the mountains facing the sea, and fully exposed to sea south winds. On the other hand, the higher regions of Corfu, exposed to the continental winds, are too far from the shelter of the Albanian moun- tains to be thoroughly protected thereby, and consequently present the vegetation found about 2000 feet above the sea level on the Genoese Riviera, namely, the Maritime and Aleppo Pine, and the usual Mediterranean brushwood of lime regions, Rosemary, Thyme, Myrtle, Lentiscus, Cystus, Juniper, Globularia, Euphorbia. Corfu having been so long under the protectorate of the English, its climate, and especially its winter climate, has been the subject of much study. Dr. Scoresby Jackson, in his medical climatology, from an analysis of the various authorities, gives 65° as the annual mean temperature, that of Mentone being 60° 80', and the winter mean, Corfu, as 53°, Mentone being 49°. These means, however, are clearly too high, being founded on observations made in rooms and verandahs, and show how little reliance can be placed on mere thermometrical data, loosely taken, apart from the observation of nature. Snow appears on the Albanian mountains opposite Corfu by the end of November, and remains until the beginning of May. Occasionally the summits of St. Salvador, in Corfu (1900 feet), are thinly covered with snow for several days at a time. North continental winds coming from the snow-covered mountains of Albania in winter are dry and cold, whilst in summer they are dry and hot, the mountains being then heated, baked by the sun. Winds from the south coming from the sea are always moist; moist and mild in winter, moist and hot in summer. It is stated by Dr. Davy that the more frequent winds THE CLIMATE OF CORFU. 299 at Corfu in winter are those from the E., E.S.E., and S.E., whilst the summer winds are N., N.N.E., N.E., and E.N.E. This statement requires explanation. In winter, the syste- mic winds on the north shore of the Mediterranean are the north winds. It is they that produce winter; with south systemic winds blowing day and night there would be no winter, not even in December, January, and February. If south winds are observed topredominate at that epoch, any- where on the north shore of the Mediterranean, there must be some deception, some error of observation, and that error I discovered at Mentone. The sea breeze or slight monsoon produced during the day in brilliant sunny weather, by the heating of the coast line, is mistaken for a south wind. So it must have been at Corfu. The air, rarefied by the heating of the lower regions of the limestone mountains that line the Albanian coast, rises into the upper atmospheric regions, and the sea air rushes in to fill the place. This wind from the sea is often nothing else but a northerly wind that has gone out to sea overhead, from the top of the high mountains, and is then pulled back, apparently as a south-east or south-west wind. The existence of northerly winds in summer is easily explained. Cooler, heavier air from the mountains of the continent, rushes into the Mediterranean basin at the coast line, and near it, to fill the vacuum caused by the heating rarefaction, and rising into space of its atmosphere. Corfu lying some miles out at sea is within the influence of both phenomena. It feels the sea breeze making for land in winter as a local south wind, and it also feels in summer the winds which have come from the summit of the north mountains some ten miles distant. According to Dr. Davy, the rainfall is both more abundant and more continuous at Corfu than on the western Riviera, a fact which is at once explained by its insular position and by its distance from the coast. From a table constructed by Dr. Davy, on an average of three years (1823-25), the number of rainy days in the year are 103; the average in each month as follows: — January, 11-6; February, 113 • March, 13; April, 18-6; May, 4 ; June, 5; July, 3*3; August, 0'6; September, 6*6; October, 300 CORFU AND THE IONIAN ISLANDS. 10-3; November, 10-6; December, 13'3; total, 103-2. The remarkable feature in this table is not the amount of rain at the autumnal and vernal equinoxes, but its per- sistence throughout the winter months, December, January, and February. The explanation appears to me, that Corfu, being some miles out at sea, is more in the battle-field of the north and south winds than the Riviera coast line, and probably than the Albanian coast line. Very often in winter at Mentone, as I have elsewhere stated, dark clouds bank up on the horizon about ten miles from land, and it rains, evidently in torrents, although we at the foot of the mountains are in sunshine. The cause is a collision between cold northerly winds from the land mountains, and warm moist air out at sea. It has often occurred to me that an island ten miles out at sea on the Riviera coast would have many more rainy days in winter than we have, and Corfu appears to realize this fact. Although so near the north shore of the Mediterranean, the fact of its being out at sea no doubt modifies the climate. When looking at the beautiful Albanian mountains from Corfu, it struck me that the real sheltered health climate would be on that coast. On inquiry, I found that I was right in my conjectures, and that Orange and Lemon trees grow much more luxuriantly at the foot of the Albanian mountains than in any of the Ionian islands. What with the cold snow winds from the Albanian mountains, with the moisture of the southern winds, and with the frequent rainfall from collisions between the tw r o, it seems that Corfu, lovely as it is, is not a desirable winter residence for consumptive and bronchial invalids. Such, at least, seems to be the opinion of those who have studied and described the climate from actual experience. To those, however, who without being absolutely ill, merely want to avoid the northern cold, and to find relaxation, in yachting, boating, fishing, shooting, driving, riding, walking, bathing, in glorious scenery and in a mild climate, with English comforts, a winter at Corfu would no doubt be very agree- able. To the spring tourist, more especially, Corfu and the Ionian islands open out a glorious source of quiet enjoy- ment in April and May. Formerly it was very difficult to VOYAGE FROM CORFU TO ATHENS. 301 get to Corfu, and the traveller had to pass several days and nights at sea. Now a day's easy journey from Rome by rail, or two from Turin or Milan, bring him to Brindisi, and one quiet night in a good steamer completes the journey to Corfu. I shall best convey my appreciation of the beauty of Corfu, by adding that it is one of the few spots on the Mediterranean to which I should be glad to return any April and May, merely for the enjoyment of "physical existence." After May the weather becomes too hot to be agreeable. Moreover, malarious fevers appear, as in all the islands of the Mediterranean. THE VOYAGE FROM CORFU TO ATHENS. On the evening of the 30th of April we left Corfu for Athens by a small Greek steamer, which performs the voyage once a week in forty-eight hours, touching at several islands on the way, Paxo, Cephalonia, and Zante, and alighting at Patras and Corinth. This is the only steamer that takes this route, establishing a weekly communication between the islands, and keeping near the coast, and in partial shelter all the way. It entails transshipment at the isthmus of Corinth, and to avoid this all other steamers go round the Morea or Peloponnesus, to accomplish which they have to pass out to sea. As in our eyes the transshipment was a positive advantage, for it gave us seven miles of terra fir ma travelling, we did not hesitate to confide ourselves to the Greeks. On taking our places we were much pleased to receive a quarto printed page of instructions in modern Greek, so very like the old that it was quite easy to make it out with a little assistance from local friends. The evening was calm and beautiful, and we once more enjoyed gliding smoothly along under the lee of the grand Albanian mountains, for steaming in the Mediter- ranean in calm weather is altogether enjoyable. Night gradually came on, the lights of sundry lighthouses appeared, and we soon passed the most southern point of Corfu. At ten we reached Paxo, an island about fifteen miles distant, and here we stopped to take in passengers 302 CORFU AND THE IONIAN ISLANDS. and to land cargo, with, great commotion, Babel of tongue, and apparent confusion ; all very picturesque and inte- resting. Once more off, we retired for the night. We had a stretch of open sea of about a hundred miles to make before reaching the channel that separates Cepha- lonia from Zante, the most trying part of the voyage. That passed, a kind of internal sea is reached, sheltered by these two islands, by the Morea and by the mainland. During the night a strong wind from the north-west rose, and we got a good tossing, but the Greek vessel, although not very large and not very clean, proved a good sea boat, and we reached the comparatively quiet waters of the sea of Zante by noon, the following day, stopping an hour at Cephalonia, and the same at Znnte. These stoppages were welcome, for, although in an all but land-locked sea, there was a deal more motion than was pleasant. Indeed, we learnt afterwards at Athens, that a perfect hurricane was blowing outside that same day, much to the misery of the pas- sengers of a large Austrian Lloyd steamer that left afc the same time that we did. All this day we were skirting the islands of Cephalonia and Zante, generally near enough to the land to be able to scrutinize it with or without a glass. The general features of the islands appeared everywhere the same, calcareous rocks and mountainous elevations, apparently naked, but in reality covered with scanty brushwood, with here and there patches of Conifers, or groves of Olive trees, according to elevation, protection from the north, and nature of surface. At each island at which we stopped boats came out to the steamer with baskets of oranges and of flowers : Roses, Banksias, Teas, hybrid ; Carnations, Stocks, Iris, Delphinium, bespeaking summer and fertility in hidden valleys, ravines, nooks, corners sheltered from the wind; for nothing of the kind was to be seen from the sea, only the occasional patches of Conifers and Olive trees in the plains, with naked rocks and mountains everywhere. It appeared as if, wherever the north winds touch, they actually peel the rocks of all tree vegetation. These islands appeared to reproduce Corfu, but with less fertility and more rocky barrenness. Opuntias and Aloes were seen near PA TEAS — ISTHMUS OF CORINTH. 303 every village or town. According to M. Orphanides of Athens, the Aloe vulgare is found wild in Greece, and is mentioned by Dioscorides. That evening we landed at Patras, at the entrance of the Gulf of Lepanto, which presents a background of magnificent snow-covered mountains, and remained there two hours, much to our satisfaction. It is a miserable little town of small houses and shops along the shore, and on each side of a long- street at rig-lit angles to the latter. Considering that Patras is the centre of the lucrative " currant" trade, I was surprised to find no greater evidences of prosperity. The night was passed in sleep steaming quietly up the Gulf of Lepanto, tranquil as a river, although the wind was howling in the mountains that skirt the gulf. At day- light we arrived at the Isthmus of Corinth. The town of Corinth is now merely represented by a few wretched houses, but we were shown the site of the celebrated city of Grecian history. Here the passengers left the friendly ship and crossed the isthmus in less than an hour, seven miles. There is scarcely any rise, and a ship canal could be easily made, and I should say without great expense. The soil is schistic and covered with a brushwood of Lentiscus, Juniper, dwarf Ilex, Asphodel, and Ferula. The country was clearly in the possession of brigands, for we had an escort of mounted soldiers before and behind the carriages, and there were guardhouses and picquets at every mile along the road, with scouts between. It gave us quite an elevated idea of our own importance, to be thus escorted and protected, and we appreciated the fact that we really had arrived in the country so pleasantly and amusingly described by M. About in his Roi des Montagues, The isthmus crossed, we embarked on a smaller steamer, and by midday, after passing Salamis, arrived at the Pirseus. It is worthy of remark that during the last twenty-four hours of our voyage, a bitter cold north-west wind — a regular mistral as we should call it on the Riviera — had been blowing, which obliged us to use all our wraps. This cold wind revealed the weak point of the climate of these islands, and, as I afterwards learnt of Athens and of Greece 304 GREECE AND THE ARCHIPELAGO. generally : viz., cold winds from the northern regions during the first four months of the year, that is, from Christmas to May. At Patras there were still large patches of snow on the mountains immediately behind the towns with a north- west aspect, apparently at an elevation of about 4000 feet. ATHENS. The Piraeus, where we landed, the port of ancient and modern Athens, is a safe harbour, protected by the island of Salamis, the Morea, and by the configuration of the coast. Such ports attract mariners and commerce in all ages. Instead of the great commercial and naval emporium of former days, there is now merely a suburb of small one and two storied houses : wine shops, marine stores, and lodging-houses. It is connected with Athens, five miles distant, by a railway with a single line. Athens, lat. 38° 48', was forty years a go a mere Turkish-built village or small town, of low one-storied houses in narrow streets, the remains of which can be still seen near the railway station. In 1834 it was proclaimed the capital of the modern kingdom of Greece, and a new town has been built north of the old one, between it and the base of the Acropolis rock, on which is situated the Parthenon. This new town may be compared to a small English or French country town, with small two-storied modern houses and a high street in the centre, ascending a hill, at the summit of which is a good-sized square. The basement is occupied by the king's palace, a factory-looking paralle- logramic building surrounded by gardens. On the sides of this square several streets abut, at the angles of which are some good houses. Several of them are occupied by very comfortable hotels. In the side streets of modern Athens there are some good buildings, amongst others the Univer- sity and the Post Office. On the whole, there is an appearance of life and of modern provincial prosperity about Athens, but little or nothing to remind the traveller of the celebrated Greek city of former days, except the ruins. These ruins, situated at the outskirts of the town, are not numerous. The Parthenon, or Temple of the Virgin God- . ATHENS— RUINS — VEGETATION. 305 dess Minerva, the Erectheum, built of the hard white marble of Pentelicus, the Propylsea, are on the Acropolis rock, the site of the old Cecropian fortress, which overlooks and crowns the city. They are probably the most chaste and beautiful ruins extant, and well worthy of a special visit all the way to Athens. There is also the temple of Theseus in wonderfully good repair, considering that it was built 470 B.C. There are still a few grand columns remaining of the Temple of Jupiter, the portico of Hadrian, and but little else worthy of notice except from antiquarian associations. The plain in which Athens is situated is six miles wide, and is formed by two parallel mountain-ridges about 20UO fe£t high, which descend east and west to the sea of Salamis. The town lies at the foot of the Acropolis rock, itself a spur at the base of the eastern ridge. In the centre of the valley is a grove or wood of Olive trees, with vines planted between them, irrigated by small streams. Small as are these Athenian streams, they bear very cele- brated names, for they are no other than the Ilissus on the east side of the town, and the Cephisus on the west. It was in the shade of these very olive groves that Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, and the other sages and orators of ancient Greece walked and taught their pupils; so it is very sacred ground. The rest of the Attica plain, beyond the olive grove's, is cultivated with grain of different kinds, or left fallow. The soil seems very poor and exhausted from want of manure and proper treatment. After devoting the first morning to the world-renowned ruins, I directed my steps in the afternoon to the Botanical Garden, in the plain. Here I made the acquaintance of the director, M. Orphanides, Professor of Botany in the university, one of the most learned botanists in Europe, who kindly showed me his establishment. A part only is devoted to botanical purposes, and appears merely intended to illustrate the natural families for the instruction of the pupils of the university. The greater part of the garden is a nursery for the propagation of fruit and other trees, such as Mulberry trees, calculated, by their dissemination throughout the country, to favour its social and commercial x 306 GREECE AND THE ARCHIPELAGO. prosperity; they are sold at 10 centimes (a penny) eacK, to all who apply. The garden was the scene of luxuriant vegetation, but then the soil was good and deep, that of the centre of the plain, there was plenty of water, and lastly, and principally, it was surrounded by a wall 20 feet high to the north, 10 feet on the other sides. The Orange and Lemon trees were nearly all planted on the south side of the north wall, protected by which, they grew and flourished, but not by any means as at Corfu. There were screens of trees and of evergreens also, in many places, to break the wind. The pyramidal Cypress is much used all over Southern Europe tor this purpose. The other plants principally employed as screens were Schinus Mulli, Aleppo Pine, Euonymus japonica, Carouba, Ilex, Ailantus glandu- losa. Hoses were in full flower, Chromatella shining above all others as a climber. This it does all over the South of Europe ; in Algeria I have seen one plant fill a tree. Our nurserymen do not seem to know it as one of the most luxuriant Tea climbers, beating even the Gloire cle Dijon. All the hybrid Roses were in full flower, as also Delphinium, Poppy, Linum ru bruin, much grown in the South, Collinsia, Aquilegia, Sweet Pea, Pittosporum, quite a tree, Oleander, the same, not yet in flower, Campanula. Behind the King's palace there is a garden of many acres, at the circumference of which is a deep thicket of evergreen trees, as a screen or protection, with the flowers and Aurantise all grouped in the centre. The trees and flowers were the same as those in the Botanic Gardens. Jasminum revolutum was in great luxuriance, forming large bushes. Flowers in this region seem to be treated like vegetables in a good Scotch kitchen garden in the bleak North, which is generally surrounded by a high wall. Given such pro- tection, they thrive everywhere in this latitude, and appear from six to eight weeks sooner than they would in our own southern or midland counties. The roads about Athens are planted with avenues of Schinus Mulli, Populus alba, Ailantus glandulosa, Acacia, Ilex, and Carouba. The latter does not seem to thrive as a road tree, as I found also the case at Algiers, but the former flourish and become large trees in the driest and most ATHENS — VEGETATION — CLIMATE. 307 exposed situations. This remark applies specially to the; Populus alba and to the Ailantns, which glory in the climate, with its dry summer. The Ailantus is beginning, I was told, to be extensively cultivated tor its wood. The Orange trees were healthy, but rather small, when- ever seen, and their height was strictly limited by that of the protecting wall or tree belts. In front of the king's palace they were mostly phnted in a deep depression or pit, clearly to shelter them from the wind. Professor Orphanides showed me in his private garden a most interesting collection of more than two hundred different species of Aurantiae, all small, but well-grown, in full life and vigour. He told me there were three hundred recognised species in existence. I must add that I do not remember seeing a Palm ; Aloes are common. The above botanical facts prove that Athens and its vicinity, although situated nearly five degrees more to the South than the Western Riviera, do not enjoy the same amount of protection from north winds and are colder in, winter, although the general character of the winter climate is the same. That it should be so is easily understood on looking at the map. Behind, direct north, Attica is pro- tected by Mount Parnes and Mount Cithseron, and also by the mountains of Roumelia ; but to the north-east the mountainous peninsula, formed by Albania, Roumelia, and the Morea, is exposed to cold north-east winds from the Black Sea, and to the west to cold north-west winds from the Adriatic. Moreover Athens is situated at some dis- tance from the more immediately protecting mountains at its back. These facts recognised and acknowledged, we find in the climate of Attica all the climate characteristics of the north shore of the Mediterranean : cold north winds, softened however by the Black and iEgean seas, by the Adriatic and Ionian seas, a pure blue sky and ardent sunshine in winter, and intense heat in summer. Such a climate, although a healthy and bracing one, cannot be recommended to invalids, and especially to chest invalids, as a winter resi- dence. It cannot be considered a favourable specimen of the bracing, invigorating climates of the more sheltered x 2 308 GREECE AND THE ARCHIPELAGO. regions of the Mediterranean, although pertaining to the same class. The protection from the north is insufficient. I intended to have visited the many scenes of interest in Attica within easy reach of Athens, hut the disturbed state of the country prevented my so doing. The brigands were considered to be dangerous, even within a mile or two of the town, and a Government notice, which hung up in the hall of the Hotel, was not calculated to inspire confidence. Herein it was stated that all strangers wishing to visit the vicinity of Athens were begged to apply to the proper authorities for an escort, and on no account to venture alone. Having no great confidence in the valour of the escort, and not wishing to share the fate of our unfor- tunate countrymen murdered at Marathon, I preferred staying within the range of safety. One morning there was a great commotion at the king's palace, and on inquiring the motive thereof we were told that the king, queen, and children had " most imprudently," without saying a word to anyone, driven off alone to picnic in some shady place in the vicinity, and that fears were enter- tained respecting them ! A company of mounted soldiers were sent off in frantic haste after them, and the king and his family were brought back in safety and in triumph. Had the brigands got hold of them it would certainly have been a good haul. Such a state of things, however, is very disgraceful. My travelling friend, the Greek gentleman, who had accompanied me from Brindisi, was at the same hotel, and I saw him daily. But he had lost all his buoyancy of spirits ; day by day his countenance became more de- pressed, and before we parted he confided to me that his long-cherished plans and dreams had vanished. He found his beloved country too disorganized for it to be possible for him to return to it, and to make the settlement he wished to make. What was the use of buying real property, of investing hard-earned gains in land, when it w^as dangerous even to visit one's estates, when the entire country was, as it were, in the hands of the brigands. His father had been murdered when he was a child, forty years ago, in a house which he showed me, inside the town, in ATHENS — GOVERNMENT — BRIGANDS. 309 the dead of the night. He did not wish to expose himself and his family to the same fate ; forty years had elapsed, and the brigands were still there. I had repeated conversations with other well-informed Athenian gentlemen on the disturbed political state of their country, and their explanation of its causes appeared to me reasonable and satisfactory. The allied Governments, in founding: the modern king- dom of Greece, made a most egregious and fatal mistake. They gave to the Greeks a constitutional monarchy, with a Chamber elected by universal suffrage, the members of which had no property qualification, and were paid. Thus to be a member of the Chamber became a business, a career, and the ambition of briefless young barristers and of fortuneless men of good family. These candidates for the Chamber, having nothing whatever to do, could go into the provinces and devote months to gaining the goodwill of the electors. Once elected, their priucipal object was not so much the good of their country as to make a permanent position, a living for themselves. Thence a general scramble for places, a constant formation of coali- tions to upset those in office, and a change of Ministry and of all dependents every two or three months, or even oftener. There was no remedy, my informants told me, but an alteration of the constitution, which was difficult to secure, for it would have to be effected by the existing Chamber itself. That is, its members would have to sign their own death-warrants, and history, ancient and recent, tells us that it is very hard to induce effete Parliaments and Chambers to dissolve or reform themselves. Again, instead of putting as king, at the head of a tur- bulent community, on which such a dangerous experiment as constitutional monarchy with universal suffrage was about to be tried, a stern middle-aged experienced man, two amiable but colourless youths have been chosen in suc- cession. The modern Greeks require a king stern enough to shoot down the brigands like vermin, with a drumhead court martial, not amiable young men so thoroughly con- stitutional as to leave the country to take care of itself, and to accept a new Ministry every six or ten weeks. '310 GREECE AND THE ARCHIPELAGO. During my stay at Athens there was a grand ceremony at the modern Cathedral, a very handsome edifice, at which the king, the queen, and, I presume, most of the dignitaries of the State were present. I was perfectly amazed and dazzled by the number of general officers, colonels, captains and admirals, and other dignitaries, who were present in gorgeous uniforms. It really might have been West- minster Abbey or Notre Dame. On asking a Greek friend .where was the army, where was the fleet for all these hundreds of officers of high rank, he confessed to me that they did not exist, but he added that these high grades in the army and navy constituted the only means of reward- ing men who had deserved well of their country in the war of independence, and even in later years. Such is, apparently, the key to the present unsettled state of Greece. A constitutional monarchy with advanced republican institutions, for which the country is utterly unprepared and unfit; an amiable and gentle, but weak and irresolute, king, who has not strength enough of will or of character to even endeavour to stem the torrent around him ; a host of civil, military, and naval placemen, poor as Job, and scrambling for the little revenue of the country, all intent upon getting into office themselves and keeping others out. The state of Greece will probably continue as unsettled as it now is until this system of government is changed, until these errors are remedied; but who is to change the entire political and social organization of the kingdom? In the meanwhile brigands occupy the country up to the gates of the capital. Agriculture and commerce are necessarily at a standstill, and the most patriotic capitalists avoid the country. I made several pleasant acquaintances, and passed the greater part of a week very agreeably. There is a halo of antiquity about Athens which throws an indescribable interest over it at all times. The Athenians proper dress pretty much like the inhabitants of Western Europe, but in the streets are constantly to be seen Greeks from the islands or the mountains in their picturesque national costumes, familiar to us from the pictures and engravings of the war. of independence." THE ARCHIPELAGO — THE CYCLADES. 311 THE GRECIAN ARCHIPELAGO. On the 7th of August, 1872, I left the Piraeus on an Austrian Lloyd steamer for Constantinople, via Smyrna. This route enables the traveller to get a glimpse of several of the most important islands of the Grecian Archipelago, as well as of Asia Minor. The vessels of the Austrian Lloyd seem to be the acknowledged and accepted media of com- munication in the Eastern Mediterranean. They are gene- rally good, well kept, and well-officered boats. The north- west wind which had reigned during our stay at Athens, tempering agreeably the ardour of the sun's rays, had abated, and-weonce more found ourselves gliding pleasantly over a calm sea. We had embarked late in the evening, enjoyed a good night's rest, and next morning found our- selves in the midst of the islands which form the Grecian Archipelago. The term Archipelago has been more especially given, from time immemorial, to the islands which occupy the eastern section of the Mediterranean, between Roumelia in the north and Candia in the south, between Greece in the w.?st and Asia Minor in the east. In former days, as now, they were divided into two groups : the Cyclades near Europe, and the Sporades near Asia Minor. These islands are very numerous; some are of good size, but the great majority are very small. The smaller islands are generally mere rocks rising out of the sea, apparently barren, but in reality covered with Mediterranean brushwood. Some are of volcanic origin, but the greater number are calcareous, and are often composed of a beautiful white marble, as, for instance, Paros, whence the Parian marble was and is obtained. The larger islands, in which there is protection from wind, are tolerably fertile. They are nearly all thinly inhabited, principally by sailors and fishermen, owing, no doubt, to their rocky character and to the small amount of cultivable soil they contain in the valleys. They look very picturesque from the sea, rising out of its depths as huge rocks, or as jagged irregular mountainous islands, with bold coasts, deep inlets, and precipitous promontories, 312 THE ARCHIPELAGO — THE CYCLADES. the elevation varying from 1000 or 1500 to 2000 feet or more. When I reached the deck we were running along the coast of Thermia, which fully realized the above general description, for it seemed a rocky, mountainous island, apparently barren. We then passed between Thermia and Zea, south of a third island well named Jura, for it soars, Jura-like, above the sea, and came to at midday in the harbour of Syra. Here we remained until six p.m., which gave us time to land and look about us, a great excitement and joy to the passengers. Syra is a small island, crescent shaped, about four miles wide and two in depth. It is a mere rock, some 600 feet high at the highest point. The opening of the crescent is turned north-west, but it is sheltered in that direction from wind and wave by the islands of Thermia, Zea, and Jura, previously passed. It has been chosen as the centre of the steam navigation of the Eastern Mediterranean, and a good-sized town has consequently grown up. It is at Syra that the different lines of steamers meet and exchange passengers for Greece, Turkey, Asia Minor, Palestine, Candia, and other localities in this region. In this sense Syra may be compared to St. Thomas in the West Indies. I at once took a boat, and finding no botanical com- panion amongst my fellow-travellers landed alone, and spent the day rambling on the hills and small valleys round the town. These hills were very bare, the ground vegetation even being scanty, but in the most barren sun- burnt spots I found growing freely a small Silene, I believe the Silene cretica, and its presence in such spots illustrates and explains the freedom of its growth in the most sun- burnt and arid gardens at Mentone. In that part of the Kiviera generally, the Silene is becoming one of the com- monest spring flowers, and is indeed escaping from the gardens to the open country, where it will soon, no doubt, naturalize itself. With me at Mentone it covers the borders where sown, and resows itself spontaneously. The most prominent other flowers were the variegated Thistle of the Mediterranean, a small Taraxacum, and a Convol- vulus. There were very few trees to be seen, and those all SYRA— VEGETATION. 313 but exclusively in folds of the hill-side, at a low elevation, where there was shelter from the wind, and a little vege- table soil. I discovered a market and fruit garden in one of these folds, about a mile east of the town, which I examined with great interest, illustrating as it did the difficulty of contending with north-east or north-west winds, even in latitude 37° 18', in the middle of the Grecian Archipelago, under a burning sun. Syra is more than half a degree further south than Athens, and at this date (May 8) the sun-heat was intense, although the air was cool and pleasant. The garden, which extended over an area of about eight acres, occupied the bottom of a wave or fold of the hill, near the sea, and was surrounded by a wall ten feet high. Moreover, on the side towards the sea, there was a row of Cypress trees, and further on a quadruple row of Canuas, about fifteen feet high. Behind this shelter vegetables were growing luxuriantly — Artichokes, Melons, Tomatos — the latter freshly planted out apparently. Broad Beans and Peas were being gathered. There were also' Fig trees and Pomegranates in flower, and in the most sheltered corner Orange bushes, some eight or ten feet high, healthy, and bearing both ripe fruit and flowers. I find that where wind is feared, in Greece and in the Grecian Archipelago, two plans are adopted to keep Orange trees low — as low as the walls that protect them : either they are planted very closely together — so much so as evidently to impede luxuriant growth — or they are culti- vated as bushes, with many stems instead of one. In Spain we have seen that this latter plan is all but inva- riably followed— so that the Orange tree presents a different character to that under which it is observed on the Genoese Riviera and in Southern Italy. There were a few of the usual early summer flowers dotted here and there — Bengal Roses, Antirrhinums, Delphiniums. Some Pear trees had fruit the size of a Filbert. In the town of Syra itself there were some plants, trees, and flowers in the courtyards of the houses, wherever they were completely screened from the wind, healthy, but not large — probably from want of soil — Almond, Ailantus, Olive, Vine, Pomegranate, Acacia, a Date Palm or two, a C314 THE ARCHIPELAGO— THE CYCLADES. Virginian Creeper, Carnations, and Pelargoniums in pots. All over the south of Europe I have found a miserable, pale-hued Pelargonium cultivated in pots with great care and affection as something rare and precious. Our glorious varieties have not reached the south as yet. The sunshine and summer heat at Syra are evidently powerful enough to produce any vegetable form belonging to subtropical regions, but protection from northern winds is clearly necessary, even in latitude 37° lb', many degrees south' of the Genoese Riviera. Syra or Syros (Svpa or ^vpog) was well known to the ancients, and is described by Homer and other Greek poets as having two towns, and as being rich in pastures, wine, fruit, and corn. Many valuable relics of antiquity have been discovered in modern times. Its central position and its good port no doubt made it an important place then as now. The modern town creeps up the side of the hill from the harbour. The latter, safe and deep, contained many large steamers, French Messageries, Austrian Lloyd, Turkish, going to and from Marseilles, Trieste, Athens, Smyrna, Constantinople, Candia, and many schooners and small vessels, laden with, oranges, lemons, wine, and oil, moored close in shore. The houses along the port were principally wine shops, eating houses, marine stores, and cafes, rilled with a picturesque population of sunburnt sailors and islanders. Most of them were dressed in their national costume — short jackets and waistcoats, with a red sash round the waist, and breeches or trousers very full, and descending below the knee, the leg being bare, and the feet encased in sandals. On their heads they wear a red cap, and the hair is allowed to grow long and made to lie on the back ; they wear moustachios, but no beard. The dress of the women is less peculiar, consisting in a long jacket trimmed with braid or fur, petticoats, and a red cap. The men, bronzed by the Eastern sun wherever the skin was exposed — neck, face, legs — were muscular, hardy, and good-looking; whilst the women were decidedly handsome, recalling to mind the old Grecian statuary type. This description applies to the inhabitants of all the islands composing the Archipelago. SYRA — CANDIA. 315 I wandered about the port with great interest, gazing into the deep, transparent blue waters, which seemed to support the keels of the boats and vessels without effort, as if they were swimming in air instead of in water, watching the lazy loading and unloading of the vessels, according to Eastern ways, in the midst of a Babel of voices. I looked into the cafes and stores, and stood longingly before the cooks' shops, where fish was being fried, hesitating whether I should or not have a Syrote dinner of fried fish, -white bread, and "vin du pays'" with the Greek sailors. This at last I did, and enjoyed the repast. By six all the passengers had returned on board, the anchor was weighed, and we again started on our pil- grimage. Within fifty yards of us was a large Candia steamer, also on the eve of departure, and an exchange of amicable salutations took place between the passengers of the two ships. I was told that it would reach Candia the next morning, and much regretted I had not time to make a diversion in that direction. It was provoking to be so near, merely separated by a night's cruise, and yet to have to pass on. Candia is a magnificent island, with mountains six or seven thousand feet high, in which a Christian population defied, until quite recently, all the power of the Turks. Within the last few years, after a heroic rebellion and resistance, prolonged with desperation aud without any assistance beyond what their Greek countrymen of the mainland could give, they succumbed. Christian Europe looked on with apathy — with apparent indifference — and saw the Christian Candiotes slaughtered without lifting up her hand to stay the massacre and devastation ; and now they really are subdued and enslaved by the Mussulman. How different from the days of the Crusaders ! — how luke- warm Christian Europe has become ! The weather was so beautiful, the sea so calm, that we could surrender ourselves wuthout reserve to the enjoyment of the scene. Our destination was the Island of Scio, on the coast of Asia Minor, but all that evening we were still in the iEgean Sea, among the Cyclades, skirting their pre- cipitous shores, gazing on their rocky heights, dreaming of the lovely Orange, Lemon, Pomegranate and Olive groves 316 THE ARCHIPELAGO — THE CYCLADES. concealed in their recesses. These scenes of fertility and beauty existed, but hidden from our gaze, which only rested on wind and storm-beaten shores, rocks, and mountains. As we turned the northern promontory of Syra, we had in full view the mountainous islands of Andros, Tino, and Myconi, all celebrated in former days for wine, fruit, oil, and lovely women. These islands run from north-west to south-east, are long and narrow, precipitous, barren, and even forbidding on their north-west coasts, tolerably fertile on the north-east, and fairly peopled. Myconi, the most southern of the three, is also the most rocky and barren, whence in classical times the saying, "a Myconian guest." The inhabitants of Myconi were reported so poor that they were apt to appear in the light of parasites, and to come to their friend or patron's table uninvited. We were passing between Tino and Myconi as the shadows of evening were closing over us, and I do not recollect ever having witnessed a more lovely scene. Our screw steamer, like a thing of life, was gliding swiftly over the blue waters of the Mediterranean, leaving a phos- phorescent furrow behind it in the "harvestless sea" (Homer). The setting sun in the west still illumined the horizon, casting streaks of rosy light on the waters, and burnishing the rocks and mountains around us, endowing them with southern beauty. I was vividly reminded of a similar evening spent at sea on the west coast of Scotland, amongst the Western Isles, between Oban and Skye. The past and the present scene were all but equally lovely, and yet how different the Ossianic beauty of the green waters and heather-clad hills and mountains of the Western Isles and the blue waters and sunburnt rocks of the Grecian Archipelago ! These were the last of the Cyclades w T e saw. Between them and the Sporades on the coast of Asia Minor, there is an open sea. I remained on deck until they were out of sight, and then retired with regret, repeating the words — " Morn, alas, will not restore ns, Yonder dim and distant isle." THE SPGRADES— CHIOS. 317 I had become enamoured with their wild sunburnt beauty, and regretted I had not some weeks to devote to them. It would be a charming excursion in spring and early summer, with a good steam yacht, and pleasant, intellectual com- panions, to wander from one island to the other, nestling in pretty coves and bays like that of Syra, exploring the fertile orange-clad valleys and recesses, bathing in the pellucid, transparent sea, fishing, dozing, and dreaming. How seldom it is, however, in life that we can indulge in such day-dreams ! It is nearly always the same; we are obliged inexorably to continue our pilgrimage. Another peaceful night brought us to the shores of another lovely island, Chios, or Scio, as the Italians call it. We were awakened by the engines stopping, and on reaching the deck found we were opposite a good-sized town, that of Chios, at the foot of a gentle sloping moun- tain, Pelinseus by name, on the western coast of the island. Here we remained for two hours, unloading and taking in cargo and passengers. - The island of Chios is thirty miles long by ten wide, and lies due north and south. A ridge of mountains, apparently about 3000 feet high, runs from N.E. to S.W., and at their base are lower hills abutting 1 on them. The aspect therefore is S.E., the same as that of Mentone, and I saw reproduced before me the familiar features of my winter abode on the Genoese Riviera. Calcareous mountains, apparently white and naked in their upper two-thirds, although in reality sparsely clothed with aromatic plants — Lentiscus, Thyme, Rosemary, Myrtle, Fennel — whilst the lower third and the more level ground near the shore is occupied by forests of Olive trees, with, no doubt, groves of Orange and Lemon trees in the more sheltered nooks and folds. Their presence was rendered clear by the abundant supply of Oranges and Lemons brought by the native boatmen who surrounded the steamer. These boatmen also brought quantities of a substance used in medioine from time immemorial, and, mixed with honey or sugar, as a sweetmeat — the gum called Terebinthinus Chio. It is the product of the Pistacia Terebinthus, and indicates extreme summer heat and dryness. In the desert of 318 THE ARCHIPELAGO— THE SPORADES. Sahara it is the last plant to give in, according to Tristram, standing an amount of heat and dryness which' no other tree or shrub can bear. It grows freely on my rocks at Mentone, producing the same gum as that offered to me at Chios. Evidently thorough shelter from the north produces at Chios the same climate conditions ; and I have no doubt that a more minute examination would have shown that the vegetation of this lovely southern island, and that of the more sheltered region of the Genoese Riviera, are identical, notwithstanding the difference of latitude. The more complete protection of the latter makes up for the more southern latitude of the former. The Cyclades all belong to the modern kingdom of Greece, whilst the Sporades are still under the dominion of the Turks, who have been their masters from the time of Solyman the Great, who took Chios in 1566. It was long an appanage of the Sultana mother, who used to send officers yearly to collect taxes, and the mastic gum was much used by the ladies of the Seraglio for chewing. Protected by the in- fluence of successive sultanas Chios became very prosperous, rich, and populous. In 1822, however, the inhabitants joined Greece and rose in insurrection. The Turks defeated them, again took possession of the island, burnt the city of Chios, massacred thousands of the inhabitants, totally ruining the island. It is only now beginning to recover from this cruel blow. My destination was Smyrna, which we reached that day, but as Smyrna is on the mainland, on the south shore of the Mediterranean, I shall leave what I have to say re- specting it for the third section of this work. I will only add now that we embarked at Smyrna a few days later, on board a large Austrian Lloyd steamer, on its way to Con- stantinople from Alexandria and Beirout. I found on board this fine steamer a most delightful state of things, nearly 1200 Mecca pilgrims ! Fortunately, the weather was beautiful and the sea calm, so they did not come to grief; but had we encountered a forty-eight hourS' storm, such as I have known even in spring in the Mediterranean, with hatches down, and waves rolling over the vessel, I TURKISH PILGRIMS ON BOARD. 31 9 really think hundreds must have perished. They rilled the: vessel, upper decks, and lower decks, like sheep in a pen on market days, and presented a most singular and interesting aspect. I was as busy as a bee all the time I was on board studying, observing, analysing; it was Bagdad, Damascus, Ispahan, brought home. Every Eastern race, every species of Eastern costume, every age, was represented. They had all with them a small mattress or carpet, on which they lay, and in which they rolled up their cooking utensils, for they had no other luggage, only the clothes on their backs. Amongst them were also some Russian pilgrims returning from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. All, both Mussulman, Turks, and Christian Russians, who escaped the dangers of their pilgrimage, and reached home safely, for the rest of their lives would be considered saintly men, and would be treated with great reverence and respect by their country- men. They really deserve some such reward on this earth for their courage and self-abnegation, for they run great risks from pestilence, from famine, and from the dangers of the deep. I heard from the captain of an Alexan dria boat on which I was travelling lately, that a shon time before 120 pilgrims had been washed off the deck of an Austrian steamer and drowned, near Alexan- dria, " without its being any one's fault," a good illustra- tion of the danger of deck-loading to all parties. This I quite believe, when I think of my own experience ; had a large wave washed our decks it must have carried hundreds overboard. We had certainly above 500 on the upper deck alone. It was impossible not to watch with intense delight the inner and outer life of this crowd of Orientals, massed together in so small a compass. The ship gave no provi- sions, merely water, but they all had a little store in hand, principally rice, dates, bread and coffee. On every side the cooking was going on with spirit-lamps, three or four combining for the purpose, and sitting cross-legged round the fire watching the preparation of their modest repast. I could not help thinking what tons and tons of food would be required by 1200 Englishmen like myself similarly situated. All kinds of odd scenes were taking 320 THE ARCHIPELAGO — THE SPOHADES. place in a quiet impassible way. One little incident roused the apathy even of our Eastern fellow^passengers. A middle-aged dignified Turk had bought in Egypt, as a slave, a negro boy of fourteen, and for some omission or other beat him unmercifully. A sailor saw the chastise- ment given and told the Austrian captain. The latter at oncewent to the Turk and took the boy away, saying that he was free from the moment his foot had touched an Austrian ship. At first the Turk could not be made to understand what had happened, it seemed so strange to him that he should not be able to do what he liked with his own property' — a not un-English sentiment. At last his loss was made clear, when he burst into a series of loud lamentations that were heard all over the vessel, tore his beard, his hair and his clothes, and in the Eastern way threw what ashes or dirt he could find on his head. He met with no sympathy or commiseration from the Euro- peans. All the sailors and passengers were positively delighted at what had occurred; and the poor Turk was told to cease his outcry or to carry it on sotto voce, or the consequences to himself might be most unpleasant. So he collapsed, curled himself up, and remained for the rest of the journey a prey to grief — a ruined man, as he had exclaimed many times. We landed some of our Eastern passengers at each of the islands and ports we passed, at Mytelene (Lesbos), Tenedos, Lemnos. This was always a most interesting ceremony with the bare-legged, tur- baned, full-breeched boatmen and the awkward Oriental passengers, but the greater part of them were destined for the mainland, for Turkey proper. This latter part of our cruise was as enjoyable as the 'first. The various islands we passed and stopped at were as lovely as those described, and presented the same cha- racteristics. As all the Sporades, however, are under the dominion of the Turk, and partly inhabited by Turks, there was the additional charm of Turkish Orientalism, costume and manners, about them and around us. Thus at Smyrna we took up the harem of a Turkish pasha and governor, and carried the ladies with us to a town on the Dardanelles. A tent was made on the deck, and they were CONSTANTINOPLE. 321 there located with their attendants and children. The pasha appeared occasionally, walking about in a shuffling dignified manner and casting a master's eye over his belongings. We got occasional glimpses of the ladies, but recognised no great beauty amongst them. They all seemed very cheerful and happy, and intensely interested in what was going on around them, constantly looking out slyly between the folds of their tent at the novel scene. The European ladies on board appeared to look upon them with great pity, I may say even with supreme contempt. The landing of these ladies was a great busi- ness, and was accomplished with great ceremony. Nume- rous boats came out; they were wrapped up until they looked like bundles, or coiled up mattresses, and with their slippers half off they were actually " bundled" overboard. Surrounded by all this strange life, immersed in practical Orientalism, Mecca pilgrims of twenty races, harems, Turks, Jews, Armenians, Negroes, soldiers in outlandish uniforms, civilians in queer costumes, we passed along the coast of Troy, were shown the exact site of the old city, and the precise point on the coast where the Scamander enters the sea. Then we entered the far-famed Darda- nelles, crossed the Sea of Marmora and anchored, at last, in the Golden Horn of Constantinople, May 15, 1872. CONSTANTINOPLE. Constantinople is situated at the southern entrance of the Straits which separate Europe from Asia, and extend from the Sea of Marmora to the Black Sea. The Straits, about twenty miles long, are of variable width, but generally about that of the Thames at Greenwich. The old city is built on a narrow promontory which rises gradually to a height of 200 feet. Its southern slope is in the Sea of Marmora, andthe northern forms one side of the Golden Horn, an inlet of the sea which leads up to the mouth of a little river, three or four miles distant — the Sweet Waters, a pretty name. Here the Sultan has a summer palace, and a garden or shrubbery. On the opposite side of theGolden Horn inlet the shorealso rises by a gentle slope to an elevation of about 200 feet, and x 322 CONSTANTINOPLE. here modern Constantinople has spread without limit. The highest point is occupied by the Pera or European quarter, composed of one long street about thirty feet wide, and of many smaller ones leading" into it, some fifteen feet wide. The houses are like those of a small French provincial town. An extensive area, at least half a mile square, when I was there (1872) was one mass of charred ruins, the trace of a great fire which had occurred the previous year; only a few of the houses then destroyed had been rebuilt. These suburbs are connected with the old Turkish town by the celebrated and picturesque bridge of boats, about twice as long as London Bridge, On the other or Asiatic side of the Straits, a mile distant, lies the town of Scutari, which also ascends a hill rising gently from the water's edge. Constantinople as seen from the water is certainly as picturesque as it is reputed to be; nor was the effect marred in my eyes, when I landed. The variety of race, the quaintness of costumes, the intensely Oriental character of the entire scene, made more than amends for the smallness and meanness of the wooden houses, and for the absence of monumental buildings such as are met with in other European capitals. On the very clay of my arrival I took a caique, a deep narrow light boat or canoe, without rudder, pointed at both ends, peculiar to Constantinople, and went up the Golden Horn to "the Sweet, Waters/' For the first few miles it is like the Thames at Wapping, both shores being covered with timber and ship-yards, ironworks and marine stores, but as we recede from the town, and the inlet narrows between two low sloping grass-covered hills, the landscape becomes more rural. Trees appear on the road on each side, and when we reach the Sultan's palace, about five miles distant, the scene assumes the aspect of Richmond or Hampton Court — a narrow river between low hills, with trees dotted at the base, and the palace and gardens in the background. It was a holiday, and underneath these trees were many festive groups from the city in every variety of costume, conspicuous among which were Turkish ladies with their little children, several eunuchs, and negro ser^ vants. The lower part of the face was carefully covered VEGETATION CLIMATE. 323 with a muslin band, so as only to allow the eyes to be seen ; notwithstanding this precaution I thought I saw several pretty young physiognomies. The trees were, principally, Ailantus glandulosa, Celtis occidentalis, Melia Azedarach, Acacia in full* flower, Populus alba, Ash, Plane, Elm, Robinia Pseud-Acacia, Arbutus, Horse Chestnut, going out of flower. The Sultan, like his subjects, had come to have a picnic dinner at his country house, so I could not examine the garden. The trees and shrubs that surrounded it appeared the same as those outside. I saw the dinner landed from a gorgeous caique, all gold and ornament. Each dish, large and round, wrapped in a velvet bag, was ceremoniously taken out of the boat and placed on the head of a swarthy Turkish attendant, who forthwith marched off to the palace with his burden, in truly Oriental style. I subsequently went over the grounds of the Seraglio Palace in the old town (May 16), and there saw all the trees mentioned nourishing and in perfect health; also large Plane and Linden trees, Sambnca, Laburnum, some Oaks, both deciduous and evergreen, the former not quite in full leaf; Euonymus japonica, simple and variegated; Judas going out of flower ; small Deodaras, Pinus Pinea, large Cupressus Lambertiana, Tournefortii, Aleppo Pine. The flowers were those usually seen in the South of Europe in May — Antirrhinum, Delphinium, Stocks, Nemophila insig- nis, Marigold, garden Daisies, Bengal Roses, Banksias, Cineraria, Verbena, Hollyhocks (not in flower), Aquilegia. The Antirrhinum grows wild in many localities of the Mediterranean in two varieties, a light yellow and a light purple. I found the ruins of Ephesus covered with the latter, as also with a large Campanula, just like our garden Canterbury Bell. This I have not seen elsewhere, but a travelling companion, just returned from Syria and Pales- tine, told me that he saw it also growing wild, although not large, in many parts of those countries. He likewise found, in the same localities, growing wild in great abun- dance, the Hollyhock, generally dwarfish in development, no doubt owing to the scantiness and dryness of the soil ; in some very dry places he saw it in full flower when not t2 324 CONSTANTINOPLE. more than six inches high. I subsequently saw Larkspurs growing in great luxuriance and abundance, wild, in. Bulgaria, between "Varna and the Danube. Thus it would seem that many of our common garden flowers have originated around the Mediterranean, and have, probably, been the garden flowers of our horticultural pre- decessors for thousands of years. Who can tell whether the Antirrhinum and Campanula I saw at Ephesus may not be the lineal descendants of those that gladdened the eyes of the Ephesians two thousand years ago? Around the base of the promontory on which stands Stamboul, or old Constantinople, are still extant, in very tolerable preservation, although in ruins in many places, the walls that formerly defended the city, as also the towers that strengthened them every fifty yards. These walls extend four miles, from the sea of Marmora to the Golden Horn, and are triple, with moats, or ditches, between each. Being turned to the south-west and protected from the north by the city, they constitute by far the most sheltered region of Constantinople or its vicinity. The ditches or moats are now cultivated as kitchen gardens and orchards, whilst the walls in ruins are clothed with plants and trees, sown by the wind and by the birds. I rode slowly along the entire circuit, carefully examining the vegetation. The vegetables grown were Peas and Broad Beans (ripe), Artichokes, large Tomatoes, small plants ; vigorous Melons and Gourds, small plants. There were many Fig trees, scarce or absent elsewhere; large, magnificent Walnut trees in great numbers, little seen elsewhere ; Mulberry trees in great numbers; Cherry trees, fruit not ripe, only beginning to colour ; Pears small ; Elderberry in flower, quite trees, and numerous; Loquats, fruiting ; Pomegranates in flower, Almond, large trees; Peach, Apricot, fruit large; Vines, flower buds just appearing. The ruins themselves were covered in places with Ivy and Lentiscus, and with many of the trees above named, self-sown, growing out of the crevices. Here and there I saw the Honeysuckle and wild Rose in flower among the brushwood. There were no Palms, Opuntias, Aloes, Orange or Lemon trees, even in the most sheltered spots, nor did I find them anywhere at VEGETATION — CLIMATE. 325 or near Constantinople. The only fruit seen in the shops were Oranges, Strawberries, and Cherries, the latter not ripe. The Oranges were very large, lemon-shaped, from Jaffa and Tyre, and dear. The three most remarkable trees at and near Constanti- nople are the Platan us orientalis, the Celtis occidentals, and the Cupressus pyramidalis. They all there become timber trees, and attain a size which I have seen equalled nowhere else in the Mediterranean. The Plane trees especially are prodigious in size and most venerable in age. There is one in the yard of the Seraglio, well known to botanists, which is supposed to be above two thousand years old. Its circumference is enormous, and in a large cavity of its trunk lived for a century or more the outer janitor or policeman of the Seraglio. It is, however, still a fine handsome healthy tree, covered with foliage. Another Plane tree, of nearly equal dimensions, at Bayukdere, on the Bosphorus, was an old and venerated tree at the time of the Crusaders, and is called the Plane of Godefroy de Bouillon. The Celtis occideutalis is seen everywhere as a timber tree, as large as or larger than a hundred-year-old Oak. It is met with, equally well developed, in Spain ; there are some very fine trees on the public square at Grasse, near Nice. The pyramidal Cypress overshadows Con- stantinople, for it is planted in the Turkish cemeteries, which occupy a considerable part of the city, inside and out. These cemeteries are not enclosed by walls, and are traversed by paths and roads in every direction ; they are the resort of all on whose track they lie. The Turks show their respect for the dead by not disturbing them, other- wise they live with them familiarly, attracted, perhaps, in p:irt by the shadow of the Cypress trees, which attain an altitude and a trunk development unknown elsewhere. At the summit of the hill, on which stands the Pera, or Frank quarter, there is a garden of some three or four acres in extent, recently made and planted, and intended as a kind of Yauxhall or Tivoli coffee and music garden. I examined it carefully, thinking that it must illustrate the vegetation of the locality, as the directors would be only likely to plant what they knew would succeed. I only CONSTANTINOPLE. found the plants and flowers named above, and among them scarcely one that would not grow in England. There is nothing southern or Oriental to be observed. This remark applies to the entire vegetation of Con- stantinople and of its vicinity. Evidently the winters are cold ; the air must be, and is, so cooled by the proximity of the cold Black Sea, and of the ice-bound countries around it, that nothing absolutely southern can thrive. At the same time, all plants that can stand moderate winter frost, and yet rejoice in intense dry heat in summer, live and flourish. Constantinople is in latitude 41° ; the mouths of the Danube are in latitude 45°, a difference of four degrees, or 240 miles only, without intervening moun- tains. The Danube is frozen every winter to its sea outlet, for four months, from November to March, and frozen to such a depth that carts often cross it where it is two miles wide, as opposite Rustchuk, in latitude 43° 30", merely 150 miles from Constantinople. The wonder is that the latter city is not colder, a fact that can only be explained by the proximity of the sun-warmed Mediterranean. Thus, the absence of mountain protection from the north exer- cises a very marked and most unfavourable influence on the winter climate of Constantinople. Constantinople is certainly a very fascinating place for the European traveller. The population is 400,000, but of these about one-half are Armenians, Greeks, and Jews. The Turkish women always appear in the streets veiled, only showing their eyes, whilst the Christians leave their faces uncovered. The Armenian women often dress in Oriental fashion, and being frequently very good-looking, contribute to the scene the element of Oriental feminine grace. The veiled Turkish women soon cease to attract attention, for they are mere waddling bundles of clothes, much to be pitied when really pretty, for all their good looks are entirely lost on the public ; on all but their fathers and husbands — a sad state of things ! I must, however, leave the description of Constantinople, of its mosques and bazaars, of its Dervises and cemeteries, of its curious customs and ways, to others. In six days I managed to see all that was most interesting, by confiding THE RETURN — STRAITS — BLACK SEA. 327 myself entirely to an experienced dragoman, by far the best plan in an unknown locality when pressed for time. By his advice, when thirsty or exhausted between meals, I merely took a Turkish cupful of coffee, which contains about a third of an English teacup, with an invariably good result. It is the Oriental mode of meeting fatigue, thirst, and exhaustion, and is an infinitely better and safer one than ours of taking wine, beer, ices, iced water, or solid food under such circumstances. The desired restora- tive effect is produced, and no ill effects follow, no in- digestion, no heartburn. When we do take coffee in the daytime we clearly take three times too much. Once at Constantinople, the natural way home for us western Europeans is by the Danube. I took this route myself, and shall make a few remarks on it, partly to guide others, and partly because this journey, which carries the traveller from east to west behind the mountains that shelter the north-east shore of the Mediterranean, com- pletes the study of that shore. The usual course adopted, and the one I followed, is to take steamer from Constantinople to Varna, the railway from Yarna to Rustchuk on the Danube, and then to embark on the river steamers for Pesth and Yienua. We started at four p.m. from the Golden Horn, and after steaming through the Straits, reached the Black Sea. The Straits of Constantinople, the Thracian Bosphorus of former days, form the communication between the Sea of Marmora and the Black Sea. They are never more than a mile and a quarter wide, and are limited on both sides by gently rising, tree-covered hills, dotted with villages and with country villas, belonging to the wealthy classes of Constantinople. Once in the Black Sea, we soon lost sight of land, and reached Yarna the next morning at nine. We saw the wall-surrounded town situated on an eminence to our right, but did nob enter it. We were taken straight from the ship to the railway station, a few hundred yards from the shore, started at ten in very comfortable carriages, and arrived at Rustchuk at four, after passing through a level country but little inhabited or cultivated, principally grass land. Rustchuk is a hundred miles from the mouth of the 328 THE VOYAGE UP THE DANUBE. Danube, and the point where the Danube steamers take up and leave their passengers. Before long there will be a railway direct from Constantinople to "Rustchuk, which will save the Black Sea voyage. The line is already open to Adrianople (1874). The Danube steamers are large commodious vessels, and being fitted up with every convenience and comfort, a journey by them becomes a positive pleasure. I greatly enjoyed the combination of comfort and ease with the sense of rapid motion. There were many clever, intellectual persons on board, gentlemen and ladies, Roumans, Ger- mans, Russians, and all spoke French perfectly, so it was the general medium of conversation. We became very friendly and communicative, sitting on the deck in easy chairs, sipping coffee three or four times a day, and watch- ing the willow-clad shore fleeting rapidly by. Various subjects of conversation, social, ethical, literary, and politi- cal, were broached and discussed with a fire, an energy, an eloquence very foreign to our Northern ways. These al fresco conversations and wordy tournaments gave an addi- tional charm to our progress, and beguiled the time very pleasantly. We should have appreciated still more the pleasurable features of our Danube voyage had it not been for the intense heat. On May the 19th we had 92° Fah. all day in the saloon cabin, and on deck, under the awning, we had 90°, and on the 21st 88°. The nights were cool, about 70°, but we were told that in a few weeks, by the middle of June, they would be as hot as the day. Whilst 1 was at Constantinople the thermometer was never. more than 80° in the day and 70° at night. The greater heat of the Danube region, considerably to the north of Constantinople, at the same period of the year, was no doubt owing to its distance from the sea. It is a well known fact in physical geography that all continental regions are warmer in summer and colder in winter, than the sea shore ; the sea water warms the atmosphere in winter, cools it in summer. This intense heat lasted all the way to Pesth in Hungary, except during the few hours that we were passing through a mountainous region, called " The Gates of Iron." THE BALKAN MOUNTAINS. 329 We were two nights and three days steaming up the Danube from Rustchuk to Pesth. Some of our party left the steamer at Basiasch to take the rail for Pesth, thereby saving twenty-four hours river travelling at the expense of twelve hours on the railway — a bad bargain according to my view of the case. During all this long voyage we were passing incessantly — at the Iron Gates excepted — through a low alluvial plain, with banks from one to three feet high, lined with Willows and Poplars, Poplars and Willows. Gradually the conviction forces itself on the mind that there may be 800 species of Salicinse, as described by a recent author in a monograph on the Willow family ! They are certainly found everywhere, from Cape North to the " Waters of Babylon," wherever water exists. There were other trees in the background, but it was difficult, if not impossible, to recognise them, as the steamer passed swiftly by at some distance from the shore ; they were clearly all northern types of vegetation. The south was hidden from our view by the mountains which fringe and protect the north-eastern shore of the Mediterranean. We were travelling due east and west, on the north side of these mountains, which screen the eastern Mediterranean and its islands from northern blasts. The first day our course was due west, along the northern frontier of Bulgaria. On the southern horizon we saw, all day, the Balkan chain of mountains, running east and west, and covered with snow. At this time of the year, the presence of snow on a mountain in latitude 4&° implies that it is at least 6000 feet high. This high chain it is that protects the iEgean Sea and the Grecian Archipelago. The Balkan chain is continuous with other high mountains that continue the protection westwards ; but the principal, most complete, and deepest protection to the north shores of the Mediterranean is evidently that afforded by the Alps of Tyrol and Switzerland, which form a tremendous barrier to the north . winds. Thence it is that on the Genoese Riviera we have Orange and Lemon groves, Palms and tropical plants, and a complete absence of frost in sheltered places ; whilst at Rustchuk, in nearly the same latitude (4o° 30"), the Danube is frozen down to the sea 330 THE EASTERN MEDITERRANEAN. for four months every year. No known fact in physical geography could better illustrate the influence of protection as regards climate and vegetation. This journey in the Eastern Mediterranean , and the return by the Danube, proved intensely interesting to me, and cleared away much obscurity from my mental vision respecting the climate of these regions of the Mediterranean, which I had not previously visited. I confess to having expected to find Genoese Rivieras all along the coast. I thought, guided by classical reminiscences, that the Grecian islands were covered with bowers of Roses and groves of Orange trees. I thought Smyrna was in a Palm forest surrounded with orchards of Lemon trees, and that Constantinople was in vegetation a truly southern city. Instead of this, I found the Grecian coast all but devoid of subtropical vegetation, the Grecian islands mere sunburnt, wind-scarred rocks, except in sheltered folds or nooks ; Smyrna growing Heliotropes and Pelargoniums in pots, Orange trees only as bushes behind high walls, with an additional shelter of trees, and Constantinople with an all but northern vegetation, that of Madrid with its cold winter and hot summer. Yet by an attentive scrutiny of the map, these facts might have been foretold, for they are in strict accordance with the data given by physical geography. PART II. THE LARGE ISLANDS OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. CHAPTER XI. CORSICA. ITS PHYSICAL, GEOLOGICAL, BOTANICAL, AND SOCIAL CHARACTERISTICS — ITS HISTORY — ITS CLIMATE — AJACCIO AND BAST1A AS WINTER STATIONS— OREZZA AND GUAGNO AS SUMMER STATIONS — SARTENE, RONIFACIO, AND THE EASTERN COAST. " My dream is of an island- place Which distant seas keep lonely, * * * * An island full of hills and dells All rumpled and uneven, With green recesses, sudden swells, And odorous valleys driven, So deep and straight that always there The wind is cradled to soft air." The Island.— E. B. Browning. Those who pass the winter at Cannes, Nice, and Men- tone have, generally speaking", only the wide expanse of the Mediterranean before them. Occasionally, however, when the sea is calm and the air is peculiarly clear, a bold mountain land, formed by a. series of irregular peaks, is distinctly seen rising out of the sea, on the far south- eastern horizon. I shall never forget the impression this sight first pro- duced on me. I had been some weeks at Mentone, and had sat day after day for hours looking at the open sea, which I supposed to be a liquid desert for many hundred miles, as far as the sandy coast o-f Africa, One morning, rising a little after the glorious Mediterranean sun had emerged from the eastern sea, I opened the window and .A CORSE (CORSICA) 332 CORSICA, looked out. To my amazement I beheld before me a range of mountain summits, like the Alps seen from the plains of Lombardy. It appeared quite a glimpse of fairyland. As the sun rose higher and higher the distant mountains became indistinct, and finally vanished. This was Corsica, The irregular peaks were the summits of the Monte Cinto, the Monte Rotondo, and the Monte d'Oro, mountains from six to nine thousand feet high. I have often seen them since, but seldom with the same vivid distinctness. The period of the day when the Corsican mountains are most frequently and most vividly seen is just before sunrise, the sun during most of the winter rising just behind them ; as it ascends in the heavens, they rapidly fade and disappear. Sometimes, however, but rarely, they remain apparent throughout the day. Masses of white clouds anchored on the higher mountains are often observed. That they are resting on the Corsican moun- tains is evident from their complete immobility. The dis- tance from shore to shore being about ninety miles, and at least one hundred and thirty to some of the higher peaks — that of Monte d'Oro, for instance — the first or lower two or three thousand feet of Corsica cannot be seen at all, under any condition of atmosphere, owing to the sphericity of the globe. When thus visible from Mentone, the view of these mountains becomes much more complete, much grander, if the higher levels are reached. From the top of the Berceau the entire range of the Corsican highlands is seen. AS SEEN FROM MENTONE. 333 These occasional glimpses of a far-distant land impart to Corsica a kind of mysterious charm. We have our beds placed in view of the east windows, that we may awake by times in the morning, and both luxuriously enjoy the mag- nificent hues of the rising sun reflected on cloud and water, and also scan the horizon for the "fair island." When seen in the day, all communicate to one another the im- portant fact ; the more interesting from its portending, according to the local weather-wise, a break-up in the weather — rain, or storm — a statement which my own ex- perience leads me to doubt. Great clearness of the atmo- sphere means dryness and northerly winds, which in winter in this region imply the probable continuance of fine weather. I may safely assert that nearly the entire English popu- lation of Mentone, under the influence of these feelings, is each winter possessed with a strong desire to visit Corsica. Not only was this desire all but irresistible with me, but I had other reasons for wishing to explore its shores and mountain land. I had become deeply impressed with the unhygienic, unhealthy state of the large towns of the south, misnamed health-towns. I had become convinced that, owing to the absence of hygienic precautions, all the large centres of population in the south of Europe, pernicious to the strong and sound who inhabit them, are totally unfit for the diseased, health-seeking community. As a necessary sequence, the only safe residences for such invalids are small, sparsely-populated places, such as Hyeres, Cannes, Mentone, San Ilemo, or the suburbs of towns such as Pau and Nice, in which extra-urban villas have been built ex- pressly for invalids. These really healthy winter stations, however, are not numerous, and I was anxious to increase their number, and believed that I might find in Corsica good winter residences. I also hoped to discover in its highlands a cool mountain locality fit for a summer station, a want much felt by those who winter in the south, and do not wish to return to England in the summer. On inquiry as to the means of reaching Corsica, I could gain but little information at Mentone. None of the. in- 334 Corsica. habitants had ever been there, and they seemed to look upon it as a very inaccessible place, in a state bordering on barbarism. I therefore wrote to "the principal" book- seller at Bastia, the chief town, for a map and a local guide, and to Marseilles and Genoa for information about steamers. In due course I received the information applied for, and found, as usual, that every difficulty vanished. I also met with two very agreeable travelling companions, an English clergyman and his lady, with whom I left Mentone for Genoa April the 15th, 1862, by the beautiful Riviera road. Two English ladies subsequently joined us at Ajaccio. We entered Genoa on a lovely summer afternoon, and found the entire population out-of-doors in holiday costume. Genoa looked as beautiful and interesting as it always does in fine weather. The next morning I went to look after the steamer, which starts every Saturday at 9 p.m. for Bastia, touching at Leghorn. To my dismay I found that it was my old friend, or enemy, the Virgilio. I imagined it had, many years ago, been broken up, either by the winds and waves, or by the hand of man. There was, however, no help for it, no other boat went to Corsica, and to the Virgilio we had to' entrust ourselves. The weather was beautiful, the sky clear, the sea calm, the barometer at set fair, and this time the old boat slowly but surely performed her allotted task. We steamed quietly along the coast, sitting on deck, and enjoying the beautiful scenery until dark. Then we went down and slept until we reached Leghorn early the next morning, but several hours later than we should have done by one of the ordinary Leghorn steamers. After unloading cargo at Leghorn, and taking in passengers and goods, we again started at nine, and arrived safely at Bastia at five in the afternoon, the usual passage by a good steamer from Leghorn being five or six hours. The engineer was a short, stout, good-humoured coun- tryman of ours, and an interesting specimen of the philo- sophical roving Englishman. He was born and bred, he told me, at Liverpool, and had come to the Mediterranean sonre twelve years previous ; he had served in every part of THE VOYAGE TO CORSICA. 335 that sea, and had never once been home. He had married an Italian woman, who lived with his children at Genoa. His pay was good, and, as he was quite comfortable and happy, he had no wish whatever to return to England, The Yirgilio was a good sea boat, and her engines also were good, but both were very old — he presumed at least thirty years. She was, he said, slow but sure, and safe in a storm, as, indeed, I had found her many years ago. On a fine warm summer's day, such as we were fortu- nate enough to enjoy on the 18th of April, with an all but calm sea, the passage from Leghorn to Bastia is very enjoyable. As the vessel recedes from the mainland, the fine marble mountains of Massa Carrara are the promi- nent feature. Then as they become indistinct, the island of Elba and the mountains of Corsica come into view. Elba, from the sea, appears merely a mass of rocks and mountains, with but little evidence of vegetation. Still it will ever be interesting to the traveller as the first prison home of Napoleon the Great. How singular his fate. Born and brought up in Corsica, he finally left it at the age of twenty- three. With the exception of a few hours passed at Ajaccio on his return from the campaign of Egypt (1799), he never saw Corsica again until, hurled from the height of human power, he was chained to this rocky islet, within view of his native land. Between these two epochs of his life, events all but unparalleled in history had taken place. He, the humble Corsican soldier, had been a great emperor, a king-maker and a king-destroyer, and had wielded the lives of men as if they had been mere sand on the sea-shore. Elba is the first land that vividly recalls to mind the great Corsican hero. From that moment his memory was scarcely ever absent from my thoughts. It pervades his entire native country, and is indestructibly mixed up with its past and present history. Indeed, it throws a kind of halo, if I may use the term, over the entire island. Two other islands are also passed, Capraja and Monte Cristo. They are both mere barren mountainous rocks, but healthy, and capable of being rendered very fertile by human labour under the life-giving southern sun. Capraja is cele- 336 CORSICA. b rated in the past history of Corsica from having been for centuries a field of battle between the Genoese and the Corsicans. Monte Cristo, which has given its name to Dumas/ cele- brated novel, is a small, uninhabited islet, that attracted attention some few years ago through the adventures and misfortunes of its owner — one of our countrymen. This gentleman purchased the entire island, and settled upon it, in the regular Robinson Crusoe style, monarch of all he surveyed. He gradually brought a considerable area under cultivation, started a steamer of his own, and succeeded in establishing a flourishing little colony. Misfortune, how- ever, overtook him in the shape of the Italian revolution. Some Garibaldians, on their way to Sicily, landed in the island, and pillaged it. Our countryman's sympathies were with the Duke of Tuscany, those of the six soldiers and of the sergeant, their commander, who formed the island guard, were with the revolutionary side. They quarrelled, he was insulted, and left the island, and the complete ruin of the colony rapidly followed. Redress was sought in the Italian courts, but without success. The Government re- fused to recognise the acts of the lawless Garibaldians in this the early stage of their career, and the Elba magistrates, siding with the sergeant and his men, fined our unfortu- nate countryman for rebellion against the d freely exposed to the breeze, they were struck down with fevers." These and similar cases occurring- again and again, led Dr. Rennie to conclude that the low situations produced a debilitating effect and a predisposition to fever which attacked the weakened men directly they were exposed to currents of air. Thus what would have been found invigorating to persons in health could not be endured by these men owing to their weakened state, from the intense heat of summer. Most of the malarious regions in Corsica are on or near the sea- shore, and as there is in summer a very decided sea-breeze during the day, its chilling influence may be an important cause of fever ; the predisposing cause being previous exposure to intense heat. The Corsican medical practitioners, although thus ad- mitting that a chill will produce ague in their climate, apart from the influence of marsh air, give the latter full weight as a cause of fever. It would be difficult to do otherwise in a country like Corsica, for the fever is the most severe and the most deadly where the marshes are the most extensive, as on the eastern coast ; whereas it all but disappears wherever full and efficient drainage is carried out. Several regions were pointed out to me, such as San Fiorenzo and Calvi, formerly decimated by fever, and now comparatively healthy, through the drainage of neighbour- ing marshes. CORTE — ARAB PRISONERS. 377 In our country a chill in summer does not produce ague, but bronchitis, pleurisy, rheumatism, or diarrhoea, but then the human economy has not been previously exposed to intense tropical heat. Still, our marshy, un- d rained districts, such as the fens of Lincolnshire, are malarious, like the marshes of Corsica, intermittent fever appearing* in autumn, apparently without previous tropical heat or exposure to recognisable chills. Corte is historically interesting for, not being exposed to attack, like the shore towns in olden times, it became the patriotic capital of Corsica ; it appeared to me. how- ever, one of the least picturesque towns that I saw. The principal sight is an old historical castle worth visiting. On one of my visits to this castle it was tenanted by four hundred Arab prisoners, taken in war in Algeria, by the French, and therein confined. It was sad to see these children of the desert with their fierce black eyes and swarthy complexions, wrapped up in their bournous or mantles, walking or lying listlessly about the court- yards, dreaming no doubt of liberty, of the sunburnt land of their fathers. Many were leaning over the ramparts, looking steadfastly at the distant mountains, probably in imagination scaling their fastnesses in freedom. Some followed our movements wistfully with the eye, wherever we went, no doubt envying our power of egress. It made my heart ache to look at them, and I was glad to leave the castle. Prisoners in wild, free Corsica seemed an ana- chronism, a sad blot on the land. The poor Arabs had to remain cooped up in this mountain castle one long dreary year more, and then they were liberated, on the occasion of the French Emperor's visit to Algeria. In the neighbourhood of Corte, at Ponte Leccia, are some copper mines. The proprietors told me that the mines were getting into good working order, and would certainly prove a valuable speculation. Indeed, Corsica offers a wide field near home to the speculative ; its mines, its marble quarries, its forests, and its vineyards are, no doubt, capable of being worked with advantage. Isola Rossa, or lie Rousse, is a small modern town, founded by Paoli in the latter part of last century, with a 378 coksica. good port, and weekly steam communication with Mar- seilles. The coast and country are picturesque, but there is no accommodation for strangers, except the little inn. Moreover, the south-westerly winds must be trying, if we may judge by the inclined trunks of the trees on the shore. The beans and rye were ripe on the 25th of April, and the planes were in full leaf. There is one handsome modern house, like a quadrangular castle of the olden time, belong- ing to M. Piccioni, the brother of my friend at Bastia, from whom, too, I received great attention. Calvi is an old seaport, further south, for centuries occu- pied by the Genoese, to whom it ever remained faithful; its motto, " Semper Fidelis," may be still seen on the gate. It occupies a high promontory, which forms one side of a very fine and tolerably safe bay. The upper part of the tow n is a mass of ruins, and has been so ever since it was bombarded in 1794 by Nelson, who there lost an eye. It is quite singular to walk through the streets among the falling walls of houses, some merely shattered, some partly burnt, as if by a bombardment of yesterday only. Below these shell-and-cannon devastated houses are those occu- pied by the modern town. Across the small bay is a semicircular plain, a few miles only in depth, and bounded by a semicircle of glorious snow-capped granite mountains. The view from the ram- parts of Calvi is perfectly magnificent. From the sides of these mountains run several torrents or rivers, which have, as usual, converted the alluvial plain into a fever-breeding district ; hence the extreme unhealthiness of Calvi in the past. The drainage and cultivation of some of these marshes have much improved its sanitary condition. The plain is covered with the ever-present maquis, Myrtle, Cystus, Heath, Arbutus, and Lentiscus, and looks as inno- cent as possible. To render it really so, the torrents would have to be embanked, and the soil drained and cultivated. Wherever this is done malaria all but disappears, even in Corsica. M. Piccioni, of Isola Rossa, has purchased a con- siderable tract of this land, and is clearing, draining, and cultivating it, as a lesson to his fellow-countrymen at Calvi. The land thus brought into cultivation is turning out most A COOL SUMMER RETREAT. 379 productive, and this philanthropic lesson will eventually prove a profitable investment. One of the objects of my visit to Corsica, as elsewhere stated, was to find a perfectly cool summer station for the English consumptive invalids who wish to pass the summer abroad. I found stations such as Orezza, and the baths of Guagno, near Ajaccio, which would do very well for healthy persons, anxious to escape from the extreme heat of southern Europe during the summer months. But these localities are not sufficiently high and cool to be chosen as summer retreats by invalids. The latter, as previously explained, ought, if possible, to keep in a dry, cool temperature, between 60° and 70° Fah. The Corsicans do not feel the want of such a summer temperature, and have consequently made no effort to find it. On crossing the granite chain on the way from Corte to Ajaccio, we came to a spot between Vivario and Bocognano, called Foci, the most elevated that is passed, which would no doubt do admirably for such, a summer sanitarium. We were quite four thousand feet high, and had left the maritime Pines and the Chestnuts far below; the trees had become English trees — Beech, Birch, and Larch. The air was cool and pleasant, the sky clear, the mountains very beautiful; but there was only a small, dirty, roadside inn. No doubt the Ajaccians would shudder at the idea of spending their summer in such a locality, and yet it is admirably situated for a cool mountain hotel, or sanitarium, such as abound in Switzerland. Nothing would be more enjoyable than to pass two or three months in midsummer, in the pure mountain atmosphere of such a spot, in the very midst of the primeval forest. The Larches line the sides of the all but perpendicular mountains around, climbing in serried ranks towards the sky, until they reach the snow line. The Beeches in the valleys and ravines are growing as luxuriantly as in our own country, and form a glorious shade from the still ardent sun. The moss-covered ground is enamelled with wild flowers, and the entire scene is enlivened by brawling torrents and streamlets of pure crystal water, dashing over the rocks in their impetuous descent to the plains. 380 CORSICA. I have twice crossed this glorious mountain pass, and each time the irrational impulse has been strong upon me to let the carriage go on alone, and to take my chance in the wilds of these Corsican mountains. The inhabitants of the more southern regions of conti- nental Europe do not seem to possess, in the slightest degree, the roving, adventurous spirit of our countrymen. They do not understand our love For the picturesque, our readiness to undergo any amount of privation and fatigue in the endeavour to find it. I well remember one of the most accomplished, cultivated, and refined Italian noble- men I have met with saying to me " that he could not comprehend the English going up a mountain merely to come down again. It appeared to him all but an act of insanity. He was ready to undergo any amount of fatigue or exertion for a geological or botanical purpose, but as to exhausting himself as we did, merely to look round him from the top of a mountain at naked rocks and arid stones, he could not do it, and did not understand its being done." Hence the higher classes in these countries are rarely found away frOm home, except in cities or in watering places, where they congregate for a tangible purpose, health and society. As a necessary result, in the wildest, most retired, and at the same time the most beautiful regions, there is often no kind of accommodation; for none but peasants or roving Englishmen visit them. It is worthy of remark that a love of, and an enthusiastic appreciation of the picturesque in nature is a result of education and of refinement ; I might add, of modern refine- ment. It is very seldom met with in the uneducated, who generally seem to live in the midst of the most beautiful scenery without its making the least impression upon them ; they gaze on it like sheep, stolidly. I have been struck, also, in reading poets and writers even of the last century, by the very different manner in which they appear to appreciate scenery as compared with the appreciations of modern writers. In their eyes a heather covered common is wild, bleak, melancholy; a jagged precipitous mountain is sombre, desolate, threatening. Now-a-days the ideas VICO — AN EQUESTRIAN EXCURSION. 381 raised in the mind of an admirer of nature by the same scenes would be exactly the reverse. The routes forestieres, or forest roads, which have been and are being constructed, in order to open out the hitherto inaccessible primeval forests in the higher moun- tain regions, might be made the means of a very enjoyable tour. A light carriage, char-a-banc or waggon, could be chartered at Bastia, and equipped with supplies, as for a journey in South Africa, with hammocks and other gipsy equipments. Thus armed the wilderness might be en- countered, and what with local resources, and the assis- tance of the village cures or priests, the Corsican highlands could be explored in every direction. Had I leisure I would certainly carry out this plan : the season should be April and May. A long way down, on the western slope, we found a favourite hot- weather retreat, Bocognano. It is a Chest- nut country village, like Orezza, and assuredly a very hot place, for we were half roasted in April, during the time we remained for breakfast. It is true the Chestnut trees were not yet in full leaf, and gave no shade. The baths of Guagno, about twenty miles north-east of Ajaccio, are greatly renowned in Corsica. The waters are sulphurous, and much frequented in summer. It is to the fashionable world of Ajaccio what Orezza is to that of Bastia. Guagno is prettify situated, about three miles from Vico, in a " fold" of the mountain, amidst a forest of Chestnut trees, and is in the immediate vicinity of one of the largest and grandest of the primeval forests of Corsica, that of Aitone. Evisa, about fifteen miles beyond Vico, is the nearest point for the forest. At Vico, the ladies of our party were most hospitably received by a Corsican gentleman and his family. A picnic excursion to the forest was proposed and accepted, and one of our companions, a young lady from Yorkshire, accustomed to follow the hounds and a perfect equestrian, greatly surprised the escort, composed of some score or two of Corsican gentlemen. Mounted on a strong moun- tain pony, dressed in a scarlet Garibaldi and an improvised habit, she valiantly took the lead, and kept it throughout 382 CORSICA. a ride of more than thirty miles, there and back, over hill and dale, up and down precipitous roads frightful to look at. Our brave and much admired young 1 countrywoman returned, I am happy to say, in triumph, safe and sound. This is more than can be said of all her followers, for some awkward tumbles took place among them; but, fortunately, they were unattended with any serious consequences. The road from Ajaccio to Vico is grandly beautiful. On leaving Ajaccio it climbs up the sides of one of the lateral granite spurs, to a height of £200 feet, and then descends into a most lovely and picturesque valley, Lia- mone by name. It is shut in by the high forest-covered mountains to the east, by the blue sea to the west, and north and south by the granite buttresses, one of which we were then crossing. The first glimpse of this wide smiling valley was a revelation of the social condition of its inhabitants, and of this part of the island in general. Before the road on which we were travelling was made, those who dwelt in it must have been quite shut out from the world, even from the little Corsiean world. The tra- ditions, customs, and ideas of their ancestors must have been transmitted from one generation to another, with little or no change, and century after century would thus pass without modifying the national characteristics. In one corner of this smiling valley, on a promontory that juts into the sea from its north-western extremity, there is a little village called Cargese, which strongly illustrates these facts. In the fourteenth century several hundred Greeks, flying from Turkish tyranny, were allowed by the Corsicans to land in this remote spot, and to found a colony. Such as it was then, it is to this day, a Greek colony. The descendants of the first settlers have retained their religion, their language, their dress, their customs, without mixing with the surrounding population. It is a village of Attica, lost in a corner of Corsica. At the mountain village of Vico, for it is a mere village, although dignified by the name of town, we were hos- pitably received at a small and unpretending inn. The servant maid, who served us at supper, a pretty girl of A DILIGENCE ADVENTURE. 383 seventeen, had thoroughly Grecian features, and on my asking her whence she came, she answered from Cargese. On inquiring as to whether she meant to marry at Vico, she said no, she must go home for that. The road beyond Ponto passes through the wildest, most mountainous, and most inaccessible part of the entire coast. The primeval forest here descends all but to the sea-line on the west, whilst it climbs up the mountain peaks and buttresses on the east, and communicates with nearly all the grandest and most inaccessible forests of the island. In the nearest forest, tbat of Aitone, are in- numerable larches one hundred and twenty feet high, with a diameter of nine feet at their base. They push their vigorous roots in the crevices of the hardest rocks, on the most precipitous regions of the mountain, and then rise straight as an arrow, pointing to the clouds. The hardy pedestrian would find in these forest- clad moun- tains innumerable sites combining " the wild and savage beauty of Swiss scenery with the isolation, the silence, of the primeval forests of America/'' (Marmocehi.) On our excursion to Vico we had an adventure, which may be worth relating as an illustration of Corsican travel. At the stage which commences at the summit of the mountain ascended on leaving Ajaccio, we took up, as driver, a wild, half-intoxicated young Corsican, whose looks none of us liked. When on the box he found that he had lost his whip, butregardlessof that very important fact, he started in grand style. We were descending by a road several miles in length, from the summit to the base of the moun- tain. Gradually the speed of the horses increased, but instead of restraining them he urged them on by wild shouts and gesticulations, until the heavy diligence flew down the steep descent. In vain we tried to make him moderate his speed; both he and his horses seemed too excited to listen to reason, and we continued to plunge madly downwards, turning sharp corners in such a manner as to threaten instant destruction. We saw that he could no longer stop the horses if he wished it, so concluded to leave him alone, aud to take our chance. The horses were three in number, driven abreast ; the 384 Corsica. centre one a powerful stallion. As we neared the valley, maddened by the speed and by the voice of his wild driver, he suddenly jumped on one of the horses by his side, like a wolf on a deer, fastened his teeth into each side of the back, and bit him so savagely that the blood spurted on the road on both sides. The poor horse, thus attacked, reared and plunged, writhing and backing. The diligence, during the struggle, was swayed in every direction, and finally backed to the side, where there was a precipitous descent. We should no doubt have been thrown down it had not the conductor, a brave old man, managed to jump down, and with our assistance to get hold of the horses' heads. The driver, having no whip, was quite powerless. The side horses were so terrified to be near their savage com- panion that we had great difficulty in reaching the end of the stage. On the return journey we found the wild driver waiting for us, but I had heard in the meanwhile, at Vico and elsewhere, that he was a brutal, drunken, good-for-nothing youth, the terror of the road, that he daily imperilled the safety of the diligence, but that he was known to be of so violent a character that no one durst complain of him, for fear of the consequences. I and my friends at once refused to let him keep his seat on the box, and insisted on the previous driver taking us through to Ajaccio. With great difficulty we made him dismount, and got to our journey's end safely. On arrival I immediately lodged a complaint against this man, and to make sure, also sent it to head-quarters at Bastia. I must confess, however, that I and my friends were not sorry we were leaving Ajaccio the next day, having a vague idea, with Corsican vendetta staring us in the face, that we had made the place rather " too hot'"' for us. I must add, however, that this is the only instance in which I had reason to complain of the drivers during my three visits to Corsica. 1 believe that it was quite an accidental circumstance, for in every other instance I have found them courteous, and although rather daring, prudent and careful. The southern regions of Corsica, both on the west and GRANITE SPURS ON SOUTH-WEST COAST. 385 east side of the central mountain ranges, are much more wild, more uncultivated, and more sparsely inhabited, than the northern. On my third visit to Corsica, in the spring- of 1868, I devoted the greater part of the few weeks I had to spare to a tour in these the southern regions, which I had not before visited, thus completing the survey of the island. I travelled from Ajaccio to Sartene, made an. excursion into the mountains at S ta . Lucia di Tallano, and then pursued the journey from Sartene to Bonifacio, and from thence to Porto Vecchio and to Bastia by the eastern coast. Every mile of the road from Ajaccio to Sartene is beautiful in the extreme. The Bonifacio diligence, leaving Ajaccio early in the morning, reaches Sartene in the evening, where an inn is found at which the night may be passed with tolerable comfort. Granite buttresses continue to strike out from the central chain to the western sea, enclosing lovely valleys; thus the coast road is a perpetual ascent and descent. When it has laboriously ascended one of these granite spurs, it immediately descends, a brawling alpine river is crossed at the bottom of the valley, and then it again ascends the next buttress. The road has been made within the last few years, at immense expense and trouble, by blasting and cutting a kind of shelf or terrace in the side of the mountain, alternately through solid granite, com* pact granitic sandstone, and loose granitic gravel. Owing to the great depth of the cuttings thus made on the inner or mountain side of the road, the character of the root vegetation is very clearly revealed at every step, and some instructive facts are brought to light. Thus the vigorous growth of the shrubs on the flanks of mountains, baked by a southern sun during a long summer, with little or no summer rain, is explained by the length and strength of their long fibrous roots. They descend right through compact gravel or sand, through crevices and faults in the sandstone or granite rocks, imperceptible to the eye, to a depth of two, four, six, or more feet. In many instances they appear to pierce the very rock itself, and thus it is, no doubt, that they find the moisture necessary to their existence. c c 386 Corsica. We see the same feature in root developments in sandy districts at home, when recently opened out by a railway cutting. The roots of the common Brake Fern, the Pteris aqnilina, and of the Gorse and Heather, descend to a great depth below the surface. My garden in Surrey is of this character, an arid sand, and I find few or no plants flourish in it, unless they have long fibrous or "tap" roots (such as Eschscholtzia), which can go down all but any depth for moisture and nourishment. The heavy autumnal and spring rains, penetrating deeply into the soil and into the crevices and cracks of the Corsican rocks, provide moisture to plants even during the protracted droughts of the southern summer. Where no rain falls at any time of the year, as in some parts of the coast of Peru, there is said to be no spontaneous vegetation whatever. The absolute necessity of heavy winter rains, even in a dry climate such as that of the south of Europe, to enable crops to be raised and fruit trees to produce fruit, is illustrated by deficient harvests after winter drought. If the winter rains are much below the average, the rain does not penetrate much below the surface, so that the roots of the Olive and Orange trees, which descend rather deep, are not moistened. When this occurs the trees live, but no fruit crop is pro- duced the following autumn. I found great anxiety expressed in Corsica on this occa- sion about rain, the winter having been a very dry one. It was generally stated that if the rain did not come within a fortnight, and rain cannot be depended upon at this season of the year, the crops would be seriously com- promised. Although one-eighth of the island is still covered with primeval forests, the question is everywhere discussed as to whether the mountain sides in accessible places have not been too freely cleared of their timber. The clearance of forest land in France is generally acknow- ledged, by all competent authorities, to be the principal cause of the disastrous droughts in the southern provinces, as well as of the constant inundations of all the large rivers. The French Government is therefore taking active measures to have the mountain sides replanted. At Ajaccio THE CYCLAMEN — A CORSICAN RIVER. 387 I heard that, hundreds of sacks of the seeds of the noble Corsican Pinus Larix are annually exported to the Conti- nent for that purpose. In April in Corsica the roadside in the valleys, especially under Chestnut trees, as I have stated, is enamelled with the purple Cyclamen. Its lovely flowers are seen in as great profusion as Daisies with us in the regions where the soil is congenial. On trying to get up some bulbs with a pocket-knife, I found that they were generally so deeply embedded as to be nearly unattainable, a foot or more deep. With us the Cyclamen is usually planted at the top of the pot, but this mode of cultivation is evidently not necessary, as Nature does not follow it. In the wild state the bulb is covered by successive layers of dead leaves, and thus becomes deeply buried. I believe that planted in rich, light soil, a foot from the surface, in our gardens, it would escape winter frost, prove hardy, and be a great ornament in early summer. The next morning my future host, M. Giacomoni, Mayor of S ta . Lucia di Tallano, with whom I had promised to spend a few days in his mountain home, arrived before I was up. After partaking of a capital breakfast, we started in a kind of light spring cart, drawn by two wild Corsican ponies. They rattled down the hill on which Sartene is placed in fine style, and we soon reached the lower part of a valley, crossed. the night before in the dili- gence ; we had to ascend this valley to reach our destina- tion. In the centre of the valley was a lovely little river, about forty feet broad, and on each side smiling grass meadows, and, occasionally, cultivated fields, with Willows and other trees on the margin. It looked like a pretty bit of river scenery in England, and I could scarcely believe my companion when he told me that the district was so deadly in summer, that no one could live or work there after June on account of malaria, without risking life. Some years ago some French agriculturists from the Continent saw this smiling valley, and, appreciating the depth and goodness of the soil, and its small peeuniarv value, bought an estate. Then, laughing at the fears of c c % 388 CORSICA. the Corsican peasantry, they built a house and began tilling and planting as in the north. They all got fever, however, and they all died in less than two years ! When we reached an elevation of 300 feet by the baro- meter, M. Giacomoni turning round, showed me a mill- house, and said, " Now we are out of the malaria region, people can and do live all the year in that house/' Here we had another travelling 1 incident worth narrating as illustrative of the Corsican character. Some slight altera- tion was required to the harness, and we both got out. Taking advantage of a moment's liberty, the ponies bolted, and were soon out of sight, leaving us standing in the road, much to the chagrin of my host. There was nothing for it but to walk on in the blazing sun, with the prospect of having to finish our journey, some ten miles, on foot. We had not, however, gope very far when we met, coming towards us, two Corsican shepherds, mounted on shaggy little ponies. My friend, who did not seem to enjoy the walk as much as I did, asked these men to lend us their steeds, which they cheerfully did, so we mounted triumph- antly, whilst they trudged quietly by our side, talking in patois to M. Giacomoni. Two or three miles further on we had the satisfaction of seeing the carriage and ponies un- damaged in the hands of a peasant. They had continued at full gallop until they reached a steep acclivitj^. Then they slackened their speed, and the peasant seeing them without driver, stopped them. On getting off our ponies I thanked the owners, and offered one of them a gratuity. With a smile he pushed my hand aside, saying, " No, sir ; a Corsican does not receive a gratuity for a small service rendered. If you were to offer me fifty thousand francs you might tempt me, but I do not want five; I had rather have your thanks." To such reasoning there was nothing to be answered. Gradually the road became more mountainous, and the little river assumed more and more the character of an alpine trout stream. Still cultivation and fertility followed our track. At last, after a four hours' drive, we reached our destination. I was most cordially received by three very charming ladies, the wife and daughters of my host. S T1 . LUCIA DI TALLANO — SARTENE. 389 With them I remained several days, greatly enjoying their gentle refined companionship, listening to the annals of this little village lost in the mountains of Corsica. To my young lady friends Sartene was the great town, where they had been to school, where the shops were. None of the family had been out of the island, and the ladies had not even been to Ajaccio or Bastia; they were too far off! Then the mayor and I used to adjourn to the village and talk public matters with some of the wise men, with old warriors, pensioners of the French army, come to eud their days in their native village, on the small pittance allowed them. The Corsicans are very partial to the army. It is said that there are now more than a thousand Corsican officers in the French army, and the towns and villages of Corsica are full of old soldiers come back to die in their native moun- tains. My visit was quite a public event. No Englishman, I was told, had been at Taliano for a hundred years — since the days of Paoli, before the French annexation — so curious but friendly glances followed me everywhere. At this time of the year S ta . Lucia di Taliano was a little earthly paradise. It is situated at the head of a smiling valley, 1600 feet above the level of the sea, in a region where the oidium, the Potato disease, the silkworm disease, cholera, and the summer fevers of the lower regions, all are equally unknown. It looks directly to the south towards the sea, which is concealed from the sight by a coast range of high mountains, and is protected from the north by a semicircle of mountains. The Vine, cereals of all sorts, Grasses, natural and artificial, and every kind of fruit tree, flourish in abundance in the rich soil formed by the breaking up of the granite rocks. The extreme luxuriance of fruit trees, and especially of Almond, Peach, and Apricot trees on the Genoese Riviera, proves to demonstration that chalk and lime suit their constitution, inasmuch as that soil is a mere break-up of limestone rocks: but their equal luxuriance on this soil — a granitic micaceous schist, mixed with vege- table matter — also shows that they find in it all the ele- ments of nutrition. On each side of the valley, on the higher mountain sides, the Ilex, or evergreen Oak, climbs towards the sky in serried ranks. This tree is one of the 390 CORSICA, principal vegetable products of the island, and alone con- stitutes many of the smaller forests. When growing in the lower region of valleys, in deep soil, it assumes a large size, and has much of the dignified character of our common Oak, only the foliage is more sombre and denser. The wood is not much esteemed, rotting early, so that it is principally used for making charcoal. A great deal of the land around is planted with vines, and under the intelligent management of M. Giacomoni, the largest proprietor of the district, these vines are made to produce an excellent wine — the Vin de Tallano. Very like an unfortified port, it improves year by year by keeping, and with age becomes a superior wine. At the outlet of this fertile valley, comprised between two spurs of the mountain, there is a little port called Propiano, whence its products re^ch Ajaccio and the mainland. On returning to Sartene I took up my quarters at the inn, hired a species of gig to take me the next day to Boni- facio, fifty six miles, and then set out to explore the place. This was soon accomplished. Sartene is a small inland town like Corte, at the west base of the southern central mountains, and is separated from the western sea by another ridge. In olden times it was generally in the hands of the national party, and is still inhabited by some of the oldest Corsican families. Like Corte, it is an unprepossessing place, a kind of overgrown village, with some evidence of recent prosperity and progress in the shape of new tall five- storied French houses, very unsuitable for a hot summer climate. The French do not seem to know better than to build tall Parisian six-storied houses, all windows, wherever they go. Thus I found at Algiers and at Oran all the modern houses built in this style. Such houses must be simply unbearable in sultry weather. The w 7 eather was heavenly, the road enchanting, and the country one mass of the spring flowers of sandstone forma- tions. The road, a very good one, winds in and out, up hill and down dale, often coming near the sea, then receding from it, with rocks or hills intervening, with the granite mountains to the east. As we approached the southern extremity of the island I was more and more struck by the BONIFACIO — ITS MARINE CAVES. 391- Conclusive evidence on all sides of glacial as well as of ante- cedent volcanic action. The granite rocks were torn, twisted, and broken into every conceivable shape, but prominent above all were granite boulders of all sizes, immense blocks as well as small ones, lying, in every direction, one on the other, in indescribable confusion. Evidently they had been dropped by glaciers at this the extremity of the great central granite chain of Corsica. At last there was nothing left of the central mountains but confused groups of these boulders, some of which appeared to have been purposely dropped u by hand" on others larger in size ; like a paving-stone gently deposited on a table. We stopped to rest at midday for a couple of hours at a shed on the roadside where horses are kept for the diligence. It was in the very midst of this boulder drift, and a careful examination of a considerable area convinced me that no other physical fact but glacial action could account for what I saw. No doubt, in the glacial period, glaciers extended all down Corsica, and this would be the region where they would end and form a " moraine." A little before reaching Bonifacio the granite formation ceases, and the rocks become tertiary, cretaceous. Bonifacio is a fortified town occupying a promontory, the sides of which towards the sea are precipitous and slightly exca- vated by the waves, so that it all but overhangs the Straits at an elevation of one hundred and fifty feet. It is a mere large fortified village, with narrow streets, large barracks, and a villanous inn. I was very cordially received by M. Montepagano, the mayor, a well-informed physician, and by M. Piras, the judge, friends of M. Piccioni of Bastia. These gentlemen placed themselves at my disposal, and took me in a boat to see some splendid caverns in the calcareous rocks, like churches. Here the Bonifacians, during the heat of summer, fish, picnic, and bathe, often spending the entire day enjoying the coolness and freshness of these marine retreats. They also took me to a pretty convent or hermitage in the rocks two miles from the town, where a Benedictine monk lives in a glorious solitude, the picturesque beauty of which I do not think he fully appre- ciates, from his response to some remarks of mine about the 392 CORSICA. magnificent view and the picturesque rocks which surround him. He, assenting, explained that they so sheltered his garden that he could grow cabbages all summer. M. Piras, my host, who had recently purchased a large extent of the " maquis," through which we passed on our way to the hermitage, was full of plans for its redemption, The great difficulty he said was the labour question. The Bonifacians, however poor, have preserved the habits of their ancestors when the town was a fortified city, often besieged. They live inside, keep donkeys, and ride out to work in the country, every morning. This destroys all interest in their labours, makes them idle and ever ready to shirk work, to remain in the town that they may drink and gossip with their wives. The latter and the children, on this system, bring nothing to the common fund, and acquire habits of idleness difficult to eradicate. I was anxious to pay Garibaldi a visit at Caprera, on the other side of the Straits, and my new allies placed the government cutter at my disposal for the cruise. Un- fortunately there was a dead calm, and after waiting twenty-four hours for wind, I was reluctantly obliged to give up all idea of the intended excursion, to take leave of my hospitable friends, and to embark in the diligence for Bastia by the eastern coast. This journey takes twenty- four hours, a night and day, but I divided it. I had an introduction to Dr. Tavera, the head physician to the penitentiary of Casabianda, a little more than half-way, who gave me a bed and a fraternal reception, and I was thus enabled to escape the night travelling. The road to Bastia from Bonifacio is a shore road that skirts the entire eastern coast of Corsica, from south to north, and seldom loses sight of the sea. For the first few miles out of Bonifacio the chalky soil continues, then the granite, sandstone, and gravel make their appearance, and with them the brushwood, or maquis, Cistus, Cytisus, Lentiscus, Dwarf Ilex. I was on the imperial or top of the diligence for the view, sitting next to the conductor, who had a gun at his side. It was, he said, in order to take a shot at any game that might chance to cross the road. In winter he often bagged hares, birds, and some- PORTO VECCHIO — CASABIANDA. 393 times wild boars. Two of the latter actually crossed the road, but at too great a distance to allow of his showing his skill. On the road from Sartene to Bonifacio, we had travelled all day without meeting" a single carriage or cart, and not a dozen pedestrians. It was pretty much the same on the eastern road. The country was lovely, smiling with nature's gifts, but as to inhabitants, they were few and far between. Porto Vecchio was reached in a few hours. It is at the bottom of a fine bay, and in olden, classical times, was a seaport of some importance. Now it is a mere village, the centre, however, of an extensive district. On the land side it is surrounded by marshes, which make it so un- healthy, that in summer nearly all the inhabitants go up to the mountains. Those who remain to keep house, all but invariably get fever ; it is the penalty they pay for taking care of the town. Soon after leaving Porto Vecchio, we entered upon the fertile, productive, calcareous plains which lie at the foot of the eastern cretaceous mountains. The vegetation was that of rich alluvial meadow-land in England, and it was difficult to believe that we were passing through a district so malarious, as to be all but uninhabitable during the summer months. But the paucity of villages and of in- habited houses along the road was very significative, as was, on the other hand, the presence of numerous villages on the Olive-clad mountain to the west. I arrived at the penitentiary of Casabianda late in the evening, and was not sorry to see the diligence move on, whilst I was to enjoy the hospitality and companionship of one whom I knew to be an intellectual Corsican physician. Dr. Tavera is one of those pioneers of social progress and civilization of whose devoted and enthusiastic labours the world knows little. At the head of the penitentiary, in which are confined a thousand criminals of the most dan- gerous class, his difficult but praiseworthy task is to reclaim them, and to accomplish this arduous undertaking, by conquering pestilence and disease, and by taking the sting out of fair nature run riot. I had a long* conversation with the doctor that night and the next day about his labours 394 Corsica. and about malaria and fever in Corsica, and his experience confirmed my previous convictions. As I have already stated (page 375), on the authority of my friend Dr. Dundas, and others, it is an undeniable fact, that in warm climates intermittent and remittent fevers may occur where there are no marshes, as a mere result of a chill in an organization weakened by intense and protracted heat. It is possible that such chills may be the principal or sole cause of these fevers, even in low, damp, reputed malarious regions. Such, indeed, is the opinion of a very enlightened French author, Dr. Armand, who was many years with the French army in Algeria, and has written a most valuable work on the climate and diseases of that country, to which I shall have occasion to refer when describing my own Algerian experiences. This opinion has been very ably supported by Mr. Oldham of the Indian army in a work published in 1871, entitled V What is Malaria ?" He proves, most convincingly, that in India, as we have seen to be the case in the Brazils, in Algeria, in Corsica, and elsewhere, malarious fevers can be generated without the sufferer being exposed to marsh miasmata, by mere chill after intense heat. Still the fact remains that low-lying, damp, swampy regions in tropical, semi-tropical, and even northern countries, are so decimated by these fevers that the exist- ence of a malaria poison has been universally admitted by the medical profession. In the present state of science, therefore, the safest plan is to accept both causes in the pioduction of malarious fevers, marsh poison, and chill following intense beat, long endured. In this, my last visit to Corsica, my attention was mainly directed to this question of malaria and fever. Having been, I think I may say, a leading agent in opening out Corsica to the invalid and tourist world, I felt it a duty to clear up the question as far as was possible. The results at which I have arrived may be embodied in a few words. Wherever in Corsica a river or torrent descends from the mountains or valleys, and empties itself into the sea, there is malaria, or intermittent fever, in summer and MALARIA FEVER. 395 autumn, in the plains which it waters, from the sea-level to an altitude varying between 300 and 500 feet. This I ascertained with the barometer. On ascending these valleys, when the barometer indicated an elevation of from 300 to 500 feet, I was all but invariably told, "Now we are safe ; people can live here all the year round." In the more malarious regions of these plains I generally found that we were only a few feet above the sea-level, and that the country was nearly flat. In Algeria the same immunity does not appear to be secured by such an elevation. Indeed, in Algeria I found fever to exist all but every- where during the heats of summer, which is no doubt much more sultry than that of Corsica. In Corsica the fever sets in towards the latter end of June, increases in intensity until October, and disappears towards the end of October, as the days and nights become colder. It is often very severe, and assumes occasionally the pernicious form. It complicates nearly all other diseases that occur whilst it reigns. On the eastern coast, where, as we have seen, there are a series of marshes and ponds through which the rivers empty themselves into the sea, the malaria fever is more severe and more fatal than elsewhere. The few villages and isolated houses in these malarious plains are only inhabited during the cool months of the year. By the beginning or middle of July the harvest is over, and then the entire population abandon their homes and go to the mountains behind, there to occupy other habitations at an altitude of several thousand feet, during the hot months. Well-to-do people leave at the beginning of June, to return at the end of October. The working class leave when the harvest is over in July, and return early in October to till the ground. Malarious fevers exist not only in Corsica, but in Sardinia, in Sicily, and in all the Mediterranean islands, and on the mainland, under the same conditions, wherever a river runs into the sea. It would seem that the extreme prevalence of intermittent on the Mediterranean shores, at the outlets of rivers, in a temperate climate, is in a great measure owing to the sea being all but tideless. When storms come, the sand and shingle are thrown up in great 396 Corsica. masses at the mouths of the rivers. There is no tidal scour as in the Atlantic, so that the waters of ihe river are pent up, flow back, and swamp all the lowlands, saturating them with moisture. Dead and decaying vegetable matter not being purified by the action of winter frosts, as in northern countries, the advent of the powerful summer sun produces that state of soil which gives rise to aguish fevers. It requires no marsh or pond to produce malaria; some of the most pestilential plains I saw — plains where human beings cannot live in summer — were as healthy, as innocent-look- ing in April and May as the banks of the Trent or of the Thames. It really appears quite sufficient to produce aguish fever in a tropical country that the land should have been saturated with water, either from rain or over- flow, in winter, that there should not be a good fall for drainage, and that the July heat should be reached. The natives of these countries know this, and act accordingly; but northerners do not, and are often difficult to convince, to their own destruction. They cannot believe that a smiling cornfield by the side of a pure running stream, such as they have fished in and bathed in day after day in their youth, during sultry August weather at home, can possibly be in these countries pestilential — a place to fly from as soon as spring is over. They laugh at such reports. They think the natives faint-hearted, lazy cravens, and go about their work as at home, to sicken and die in a year or two. I have already mentioned one history of this kind, but that of the Casabianda penitentiary is still more remarkable. Casabianda is an agricultural colony of convicts, founded by the French Government in 1864, in order to drain and reclaim some of the ponds and swamps of the eastern coast. Unfortunately the Government gave the first ap- pointment of director to a clever energetic officer, but a northerner, who knew nothing of Corsica or of its fever. He thought all he heard nonsense ; that the fever was the result of the men working in the heat of the day and being badly fed. So he had the convicts up before daylight, and made them work at the drainage in " the cool of the Then he had them home in the heat of the THE PENITENTIARY OF CASABIANDA. 397 day for dinner and a siesta, and sent them ont to work again in the "cool of the evening." The local medical men and the Corsicans around him stood aghast at a plan so contrary to all their experience. For they wait until the sun has dispersed early watery vapours, and return home before sunset. But he was not to be persuaded, re- ported the medical men under him for "insubordination/' and had his own way. The result may be easily foretold. He lost during two years 65 per cent, of the convicts, or 665 out of the 1000 each year. The Government was horror-struck, and the colony would have been abandoned had not the stubborn director, most fortunately, himself died of the fever. A more rational man was then ap- pointed, who allowed the medical staff free scope, and everything was reversed. The men were sent to work an hour after sunrise, and brought home an hour before sun- set. In the summer they were all transferred to the mountains, and various other precautions were taken, with such good results that now the mortality, in the same conditions and locality, is only 3£ per cent., or 35 per 1000. These details I had from Dr. Tavera, the present medical superintendent of the penitentiary, to whose ener- getic efforts much of the improvement is due. Great works have been accomplished ; one or two large brackish ponds and swamps have been already drained, and a vast amount of land reclaimed. It seems incredible that such perverse stubbornness on the part of officials in authority should exist, and that masses of human beings should be shouldered into eternity through their blind opposition to professional knowledge. But similar circumstances are constantly occurring. Thus, at the commencement of the Crimean war our troops were located in autumn, by the officer in command, at the side of a malarious fresh-water lake, near Varna, in direct opposition to the medical staff; and soon after the camp was decimated by fever. In the year 1869 a regiment was transferred from the Cape to Mauritius by its colonel, during a severe epidemic of fever at the latter locality, in direct opposition to the medical staff, merely for the men to sicken and die by the hundred. 398 Corsica. The practical deductions I draw from these researches are, that any part of Corsica is safe as a residence, either for invalids or tourists, from the end of October to the end of the second week in May ; but I do not advise either the one or the other to go to Corsica, or to remain there during the summer months, unless they leave the plains and the outlets of rivers, and settle on some mountain height. As the mountains rise to a height of nine thousand feet, there are many glorious regions where, throughout the heats of summer, a bracing healthy climate, and immunity from the intense summer heat of the Mediterranean would be secured ; but at present this advice cannot be followed, because no mountain accommodation exists. The establishment of some such cool mountain retreat for summer would be a great boon to the inhabitants of the Riviera, as well as to Corsican visitors. I am convinced that the Riviera is no more safe as a residence for northerners after the second or third week in May than Corsica. Although there are no marshes, every year there are cases of fever at Mentone among the patients who remain against my advice. A large portion of the surface of Corsica — I may say all that is not a primeval forest or under cultivation — is covered with what they call " maquis." I do not like to use the word brushwood or scrub, for such are very common terms to apply to groves of underwood composed of Myrtle, Arbutus, Cistus, rock-Roses, and Mediterranean Heath, and yet of such is the interminable "maquis" composed. These choice shrubs are the weeds of Corsica, growing wherever nature is left to herself, wherever the soil is not covered with timber. Indeed they soon again turn cultivated lands into brushwood if left uncultivated for a few years. The existence of this maquis, or brushwood, on all open ground, constitutes a feature in the social history of Corsica. It contributed much to the security of the out- laws or banditti. Growing generally from six to ten feet high, and where the soil is good to fifteen or twenty, it offers an all but impenetrable refuge. On the other hand, its invasion of all uncultivated soil in dense masses, renders it difficult and expensive to redeem land, and to THE MAQUIS — ROVING CATTLE. 399 bring it into cultivation, once it has fallen into the wild state. Until within the last few years all cattle, to whomsoever belonging, had a right to pasture in the maquis. The result was the existence of roving flocks of sheep or goats, entrusted to shepherds or belonging to them, that passed from one part of the country to the other according to the season. These flocks committed great depreciations, especially the goats, and rendered husbandry difficult and precarious in the districts which they visited. Goats are so nimble and light footed that no ordinary fence will keep them out of a field, nothing short of a ten-feet wall ; so I found them everywhere in very bad odour. It is in reality the condition of an unsettled country ; many parts of Spain are to this day a desert from this cause. A law has, however, been passed, prohibiting what is called the " libre parcours," or free pasturage. No cattle are now allowed to pasture in grounds that do not belong to their owner, or that are not let to him ; nor are they allowed to roam untended. This necessary law has been of great service to agriculture, but, like all progress, it has its painful side, for I was told by peasants that they could now get no meat. It is like the enclosure of our commons. The peasantry who did not own land had flocks which they drove into the maquis, and on the products of which they partly subsisted. Now they are reduced in a great measure to the products of their own labour. England itself was very much like Corsica two hundred years ago, according to contemporary writers ; it was half covered with moors, fens, marshes, and forest. Sheep and goats were considered mischievous animals and much abused, and the poor helped life with common rights. Since the accession of George II. four thousand Acts have been passed for the enclosure of commons, and most of the fens and marshes have bsen drained. France is not so advanced ; many of her departments are still covered with ponds and marshes, which render the neighbouring country so un- healthy that it is decimated with malarious fevers. Thus in La Bresse, a triangle situated between the Saone, the Ain and the Rhone, full of ponds and marshes, the 400 CORSICA. average duration of life is only twenty-four years, in some parishes only eighteen, instead of thirty-five, the general average for France. These ponds are partly artificial, and were mostly created in the 16th and 17th century, to pro- pagate fish, for which there was a great demand, owing to the rigorous observance of the fast days of the Roman Church. The ponds are drained off after two years, the fish sold, and the bottom cultivated with cereals for two years, when they are again laid under water and stocked with fish. The French authorities are doing their best to do away with these centres of malaria, but meet with great resistance from the proprietors and inhabitants, who, as is so often the case, cling to the causes of their ill-health and premature death, from interested motives. The milk of the sheep, as well as that of the goats, is largely consumed as an article of diet, both in the shape of milk and in that of cheese. It is, I was told, a most important resource, especially in the mountain districts > and 1 found it very palatable and good. Would not our own Highlanders find in the milk of their sheep a valuable article of diet? It is, and has been, consumed from time immemorial all over Asia in mountain districts, and is everywhere greatly esteemed. The large flocks of North Britain would offer a bountiful supply of this valuable article of food, and the famines which decimate the High- lands might thus be rendered less serious. It is true that the number of lambs reared would be greatly diminished, and, consequently, rents would suffer I The Corsicans mix the milk with chestnut-flour. The chestnuts are dried in an oven when they fall, in the autumn, and when wanted ground into flour. With this flour cakes are made and laid on chestnut leaves, which, when baked, constitute their principal food. To strangers these cakes taste sweet and insipid, but the natives are very fond of them. In the great primeval forests are to be found wild boars and small game in abundance. In the higher mountains the native race of wild sheep, called mouflons, are met with. Their presence in the mountains is a strong attrac- tion to enthusiastic sportsmen. In the alluvial plains on GAME — SPOUTING. 40 1 the eastern coast game abounds, and in the autumn and winter all kinds of water-fowl are met with in profusion. In the early autumn season, however, these districts are so very unhealthy that the pursuit of the game would probably be followed by severe fever. Game, large and small, is more abundant in the southern and eastern parts of Corsica, because they are the wildest and most thinly inhabited. The long prohibition of firearms, and of legiti- mate sport, has not tended to increase the stock of game in the neighbourhood of the towns and in the more populous parts of the island, but rather the reverse. Not being able to shoot game as heretofore, the entire agri- cultural population have devoted their energies to trapping, and, according to report, with such success as to have sensibly diminished its numbers. Such I found Corsica. To me on each of my three visits it has proved a most enjoyable and fascinating- country. The ten or twelve weeks that I have thus spent travelling in this lovely island have been among the pleasantest of my life, and I trust that the description given will lead many to visit its hospitable shores. What I have said will show there is in Corsica much to study and interest, as well as much to admire. It is new untrodden ground, a country in a state of transition, emerg- ing from the barbarism of the Middle Ages in this the nine- teenth century, as the Highlands of Scotland did in the eighteenth. The firm establishment of law and public security will surely regenerate the country here as elsewhere. There are not now three outlaws in the entire island ; life and property are as safe as in any department of France, or any county of England, and once the fact is known capital will begin to flow into Corsica, and will fertilize it as the Nile fertilizes Egypt. The climate is good, the soil is fertile, the natural resources great ; but, although situated at the very door of Europe, all are still dormant for the want of capital. The French Government has done a deal already for this island ; indeed, it has cost France several millions in public works since its first occupation, a hundred years ago (June, 1769). The money, however, is well invested, and it is to D D 402 CORSICA. be hoped that the authorities will not hesitate to complete what has been commenced. Once the roads in course of construction and contemplated are finished, no doubt assist- ance will be given to the proprietors to bring the valleys into cultivation by drainage, and to secure a proper outlet for the rivers. To keep the rivers open and to preserve the plains from inundation is beyond the resource or know- ledge of a peasant proprietary. It should and must be done by the Government engineers, as in the Roman and Grecian States in former days. A channel for the river should be formed and carried into deep water, and its entrance occa- sionally dredged. Works of this kind have been successfully carried out at the mouth of the river Liamone, near Ajaccio, with great benefit to the adjoining country. M. le Comte de Grandchamps, an eminent French en- gineer, has entered at length into this question, and into all others connected with the material prosperity of Corsica, in a very valuable work, which I can cordially recommend to those who feel interested in the subject. His book is entitled " La Corse ; sa colonisation et son role dans la Mediterranee. Seconde edition. 1859." Several of the most enlightened and energetic Corsican proprietors whom I met with told me that however anxious they might be to utilize the natural resources and fertility of their country, they could not do it for want of capital, for there was none in the country. They had land, good land, and plenty of it, but no money ; so the land remained covered with maquis, and merely gave them a bare physical maintenance- What was wanted was for continental capitalists to bring money into the island. - I certainly saw in the neighbourhood of Bastia, perhaps the only town in Corsica where there is any capital, mar- vellous results from its employment. Land purchased at say four or five pounds an acre, cleared and planted, was said to have become worth five times the money spent on it, in the course of half a dozen years. I would recommend all who feel disposed to make a tour in Corsica to read carefully Gregorovius' " Wanderings in Corsica, its History and its Heroes." As I have stated, it is a most charming book, even for tarry-at-home tra- WORKS ON CORSICA. 403 vellers. Another useful work for intending tourists, is a little book entitled " Notes on the Island of Corsica/' by Miss T. Campbell, which contains a deal of useful infor- mation. Miss Campbell has been now a winter resident at Ajaccio for many years, and has devoted all her time and all her energies to furthering the advancement of Ajaccio, and its colonization by the British. I must also mention Mr. Thomas Forester's " Rambles in the Islands of Corsica and Sardinia/' and Mr. Edward Lear's '* Journal of a Landscape Painter in Corsica." Both these works are very interesting, and contain much valuable information. The first edition of Mr. Forester's book appeared in 1858; a second edition has since been published. Mr. Lear's work contains numerous wood engravings of Corsican scenery, which well sustain his reputation as an eminent artist. Murray has, also, published one of his valuable Guides, on Corsica. For the days and hours of departure of steamers " Bradshaw's Continental Guide" for the month should be consulted, as they vary from year to year. Thus prepared, the traveller will be sure to gain both pleasure and informa- tion from an excursion in this most picturesque island. Those who are afraid of the sea can both go and return by Leghorn and Bastia. Corsica and Sardinia act as a western breakwater to the coast of Italy, so that the channel between the islands and Italy is a much calmer sea than the more open space between Ajaccio and Mar- seilles. In the spring months of April, May, and June, this part of the Mediterranean is often calm for weeks together. I should again advise no one to go to Corsica in early autumn, on account of the malaria which still prevails in many parts of the coast that the traveller would wish to visit. A railroad from Bastia to Bonifacio, along the eastern coast, has long been discussed, and will, it is said, be very shortly constructed. Such a line would not be a very expen- sive one to make, as the country is flat nearly all the way, a plain at the foot of the mountains. When completed it will contribute greatly to the prosperity of the island, con- necting the north with the south. At present there is but jttle intercourse; most of my Bastia friends had never d d 2 404 CORSICA. been to Bonifacio, and knew nothing personally of the re- sources of the southern part of the island. Moreover, as the Straits of Bonifacio are not wide, and the Sardinian railway will soon be open from Porto Torres to Cagliari, Corsica may hope to see northern tourists choose this route on their way to the southern regions of the Mediterranean. The best time, no doubt, to visit Corsica is in the spring, as I have done, say from the 1st of April to the 15th of May. In my three visits, extending over nearly three months, I never had one single bad day, not one day of wind, cloud, or rain. Mr. Murray in his Guide says that I am too enthusiastic, and give rather too favourable an account of Corsica. I can only add that I have described it most truthfully as I found it in April and early May. I must, however, repeat, that I advise no real invalid, whose life is actually at stake, to venture in either this or any other new country out of the beaten track, not even into Sutherlandshire or the Hebrides, unless on a visit to a local magnate. It is worthy of remark that all southern localities and towns are more healthy, and consequently safer to visit in spring than in autumn. In spring they have gone through the winter rains and frosts, which have cleansed and puri- fied them. Thus, Rome and Naples may be visited much more safely by pleasure tourists in February, March, and April, than in November, December, and January. Another important point is, that the sea is often calm at this time of the year in the north regions of the Mediterranean, although not in the south, as I know to my cost. The south of Europe, also, is everywhere much more beautiful in spring than in autumn. In April and May, all that has been written by the poets is indeed realized and found to be thoroughly true. We may, then, without reserve, surrender our minds to the enjoyment of the poetic beauties of early spring, which we can so seldom do in our own northern and treacherous climate. CHAPTEE XII. ; SICILY. " Usee loca vi quondam et vasta convulsa ruina (Tantum aevi longinqua valet mutare vetustas) Dissiluisse ferunt : cum protiuus utraque tellus Una foret ; venit medio vi pontus, et undis Hesperium Siculo latus abscidit : arvaque et urbes Littore diductas angusto interluit restu. Dextrum Scylla latus, lsevuni implacata Charybdis Obsidet." Ylrg-. Mn. iii. THE DEPARTmE — CLIMATE AS SHOES' BY VEGETATION — PALERMO — MESSINA — CATANIA — M0UXT ETNA — SYRACUSE — THE RETLRN. In the course of the winter of 186:2-63 the desire to visit Sicily took possession of me. I had been attending 1 some Russian ladies who had passed the previous winter at Catania, and also some of my countrymen who had spent some months at Palermo. All were loud in praise of these cities, and insisted that the climate of Sicily was much superior to that of the Riviera. Thus the uncomfortable idea occurred to me that after all I might not have dis- covered in Mentone the best locality in which to spend the winter, so I determined to pass a few weeks in Sicily at the close of our season, and to judge for myself. As the time for departure approached I began to look around for one or two companions. Many volunteers offered, but one by one they all drew back, from some cause or other, with the exception of some enthusiastic young ladies, whom I could not possibly take, until at last I had to start alone. I cannot say, however, that I was quite abandoned, for on the morning of my departure for Genoa a dear little girl of six, the child of some valued friends, came to me with a small bundle. I had asked her repeatedly to accompany me, but she had always refused, saving that she could not possibly leave her mamma. " Dear Pr SIC ILIA ( SICILY) Grave -par Erhard ,12 , r.T>a^uay~ Trouin Par 406 SICILY. Bennet/' she began, " I cannot Lear to see you going to Sicily all alone, with no one to take care of you, so I have made up my mind to leave mamma, and to go with you. I have packed up my things, and I am quite ready." It is singular at how early an age children show the charac- teristics that will stamp them throughout life. It is marvel- lous, also, what power a tiny child has to please and attach its seniors, or to repel them. Although I at last departed alone, it was not without having many friends to see me off, and to wish me a prosperous journey. I am, indeed, struck every year by the great contrast that exists between the arrival and the departure of the winter visitors. This is more especially the case at the house that I inhabit, where there are nearly a hundred residents, most of whom are invalids and their friends settled down for the winter. When the " poor exiles" arrive all is new and strange, and, generally speak- ing, there is no one to receive them but one of the waiters. But the state of things is very different on departure in spring, after a six months } sojourn. The isolation has ceased, for the house has become full of friends, with whom it is a kind of conscientious duty to see the traveller off. Then comes such a shaking of hands, such a waving of hand- kerchiefs, as makes the departure a complete ovation. Nor is this "well wishing" confined to friends new and old. The host and hostess and dependents seem to consider it a duty to take a part in the ceremony, and express their good wishes with a cordiality and familiarity strange to our cold northern ways. Six months' confinement within the limits of even pic- turesque Mentone is an admirable preparation for such a journey as the one I was undertaking. Starting on a beautiful April morning — and April weather is always beautiful in this part of the world — once the regret of leaving friends has subsided, an exhilarating sense of free- dom, of liberty, steals over the mind. To the invalid who departs from his winter retreat with restored or improved health j intense thankfulness is mingled with this feeling. Nearly always the air is warm and balmy, yet fresh and pleasant, the sun shines brightly in the clear blue sky, and DEPARTURE — ROAD TO GENOA. 407 the vegetation is that of July with us. When the Riviera road is chosen, as the carriage progresses, the eye glances involuntarily from the white clouds on the far off horizon, hanging on the mountains of Corsica a hundred miles away, to the sparkling sea, to the now familiar forms of vege- tation on the roadside, and to the olive-covered mountains which tower high above the shore. The Riviera road winds in and out along the beach, at times ascending many hundred feet, at times descending to the sea-leveL Ridges of rock, through which it passes, jut out into the waves, like mountain backbones or but- tresses, showing at a glance the geological stratifications. Isolated rocks, some large some small, rise out bodily from the sea, generally at the boundary or entrance of pretty bays, sometimes in their centre. When the road ascends a hundred feet above the shore level, the outline and shape of the pebbles and boulders at the bottom of the sea, near the beach, are seen with singular plainness. The eye, at that height, pierces the water and sees the stones at the bottom of the sea, as in one of Creswiek's pictures of a trout or salmon stream. Picturesque grey villages and towns are frequently passed, generally consisting of one large narrow street along the shore. They are composed of old, primitive, tall, quaint-looking houses, and their inhabitants form very artistic groups under the porches. A source of surprise to us meat-loving northerners is the absence of butchers' shops, for I only counted two be- tween Mentone and Genoa. Nothing is seen exposed for sale in the eatable line, but bread, maccaroni, dried beans, chestnuts, wine and oil, evidently the staples of the country. Genoa, the Superb, is seen many hours before it is reached, seated, amphitheatre wise, at the base of a moun- tain in the centre of its wide sea-like bay. As the traveller approaches, life becomes more active, the villages and towns are more numerous, as are the people who inhabit them. Great ships are building on the beach, on the very road, as it were, and inspire the passing traveller with wonder as to how they are to be got into the sea. Female figures become more and more numerous, looking very picturesque 408 SICILY. from their bead dress. The Genoese women of the middle class wear on their heads a thin gossamer white or black scarf. It is fastened to the hair and comb, and hangs gracefully down on both sides. The women of the lower class wear, in the same style, gaudy, many-coloured cotton scarfs. Indeed, the love of vivid colours seems to increase as we descend south. Red assumes a prominent feature in the dress of the women, and the large umbrellas are gene- rally of the same vivid hue. The outsides of the houses, also, are ornamented with frescoes, which reproduce all the colours of the rainbow, and give great animation to the scene. Vividness in colour probably becomes an actual want to southerners, accustomed to intense light, to the glare of a southern sun ; whilst northerners, accustomed to sombre skies and to subdued light, are satisfied with more subdued colours — to green, grey, and black. Soon we reach the busy suburbs of a great city, and in a few minutes more we are in the middle of one of the greatest commercial marts of the Mediterranean. By far the best way of reaching Palermo is from Mar- seilles by one of the Messageries Maritimes Alexandria boats, which touches at Palermo every fortnight. From Genoa the route is by Naples, between which and Sicily there is frequent communication, so I was obliged to go by way of Naples. This, however, I did not regret, for it gave me the opportunity of paying another visit to Pompeii, which is always seen with renewed pleasure. Only one-third of the town of former days has been revealed, and as excavations are constantly going on, every year there are fresh objects of interest to be seen. On this occasion I was shown a singular group of several ligures just discovered, a woman, a man, and a girl, in the very act of flying from the shower of ashes, when they were overtaken and smothered. The moulds were found in a state of complete preservation, and owing to this circum- stance the curators were enabled to make a plaster cast, which vividly brings to mind the actual event. Every muscular contortion, every detail of shape, is distinctly brought out in this vivid and ghastly group, now pre- served in the Museum at Pompeii. I also saw a recently ITALIAN PASSENGERS — A PARTING SCENE. 409 uncovered subterranean water channel, some four feet wide, and two deep, in which a considerable body of cool pellucid water is seen running rapidly to the sea. A few feet only of the roof had been taken off, and I looked down with in- terest on this stream of pure water, collected from the ad- joining mountains more than eighteen centuries ago, for the use of the town, and which during all that period has been running unseen, hidden in the bosom of the earth, buried with the city it was intended to supply. There is a steamer every other day from Naples to Palermo, and the sea being calm, and the barometer all right, I went on board, the 15th of April, at 6 p.m. I was the only Englishman on deck, so having nothing else to do I amused myself by watching my companions. There were many Italians among the passengers, and many partings were taking place. I was interested and pleased to see how strong the affection tie evidently was between those departing and those left behind, and how utterly regardless all appeared to be of the rules which restrain the public manifestation of feeling in England. Grown-up people cried and kissed each other again and again, without the smallest effort at concealment. One group more especially attracted my attention ; a young Neapolitan bride, with her husband and younger brother, as I afterwards learnt, were taking leave of the family of the former, on their departure for Palermo, where the bridegroom resided. There was a boat-load of the young lady's family, father and mother, and three or four sisters. Such sobbing and crying I never saw before. The poor mother and sisters were absolutely convulsed with grief, and could scarcely articulate for their sobs. The captain was positively obliged to have them removed from the vessel when we started, for they could not be per- suaded to leave, and even then they kept waving their handkerchiefs from the boat, and breaking out into fresh paroxysms of grief as long as we could see them. The lather was as weak as the lady members of his family. I found him, accidentally, in the steward's cabin, taking leave of his younger son, a big boy of fourteen, with sobs and tears and passionate embraces. No one on board 410 SICILY. seemed to think it at all strange ; on the contrary, I heard on all sides kind Italian expressions of sympathy and interest. The bride cried as hard as the rest at the parting, but she soon wiped her eyes and smiled through her tears when her relatives were out of sight, seeming to find ample compensation in the loving looks and kind speeches of her young husband. So it is in most departures, those who are left behind are the most to be pitied. The new scenes and interests that surround those who depart, tend, if not to console them, at least to draw their thoughts into other channels. The next morning I was up early, and on deck soon after six. Our course had been prosperous, and I was informed that we should be at our destination by ten. Already the mountains of Sicily were faintly visible on the horizon. The morning was lovely, the air pure and clear, and scarcely a wave on the sea, except those we made ourselves, as we steadily pursued our way, displacing the shining heaving waters. There were only sailors on deck, with the ex- ception of a fat, burly, florid-faced man in a dirty white vest, sitting, with . a look of great composure and self- satisfaction, by the side of the engines. In his hands were half a loaf of bread and a huge piece of meat, and with a clasp-knife he kept cutting off slice after slice, evidently much to his own gratification. I at once, by his appear- ance and occupation, recognised a countryman, and lost no time in making his acquaintance. I found him very affable, and soon learnt his history. Like my friend of the Virgilio, he was the engineer of the steamer, and also a fair specimen of the philosophical roving Englishman. His idea of his duty to himself was to obtain as good pay with as easy a berth as he could, and in order to accomplish this he was prepared to go to any part of the habitable globe. Indeed, there were few regions of the world, he said, to which he had not been, and to which he was not perfectly ready to go, if he found it to his advantage. A few months previous, on returning from China, he had been offered this vessel, and at the same time a new steamer going out to run on the Spanish coast. The pay was the same in both cases, but he preferred ANOTHER ENGLISH ENGINEER. 411 the present vessel, an old one, because old engines, when good, work easily, and give no trouble, whereas new eugines, for the first year or two, give a great deal of trouble. If they had offered him more pay he would have taken the new ship ; but he was too old a hand to bother himself with new engines when he could get the same money for attending to old ones, that would work of themselves without any trouble. In uttering this senti- ment he shut one eye, and gave me a knowing wink, as if mentally applauding his own judgment. I expressed approval of his decision, and inquired if he was comfortable on board, and was satisfied with his situa- tion. " Perfectly," he answered ; " the vessel and engines were good, although nothing to look at : and although he did not know much of their c lingo/ he managed to .make his stokers (Italians) understand him. Bat then/ 3 he added, " I don't let the captain interfere with me, my engine-room, or my men. He tried it on at first, but I soon showed him that it would not do. One of my men was lazy, so, on arriving at Xaples, I made him pack up his things, called a boat, shoved him overboard, and told him to come back at his peril. I had to go ashore that morning, and on my return to the vessel I found that the captain had engaged another man as stoker. This I could not stand, for I consider that the captain has nothing what- ever to do with the engine-room, where I am master, and I always engage my men myself. So I shoved this man off, like the other, and went myself to the owners of the ship to tell them what I had done. I found the captain at the office, and he flew into a towering rage when he heard that I had turned his man out of the ship. My reply was that I was master in the engine-room, and meant to remain so ; that I was responsible for the men's work, and that I was con- sequently the proper one to choose them ; that I would have no interference, and that if the power to choose and dismiss the stokers was not left with me, I would not put my foot in the vessel again. They fretted and fumed, but had to give way, for I was serious, and meant what I said ; and ever since I have been master, and the captain, does not try to interfere. You see, sir, I was right, and they 412 SICILY. all knew it. I am not going to have a set of lazy Italian louts about me ; they must do their work properly, or go about their business." I have reproduced this little incident because it illus- trates, as does the history of the engineer of the Virgilio, mentioned in a former chapter, some of the characteristic features of the Anglo-Saxon race. From the peer to the peasant we are all alike, all ready to go to any part of the habitable globe to better our social position, and we all show the same tendency to prefer the tangible to the ideal. In other words, as a race, we show a singular combination — a love for adventure and romance, and a keen appreciation of material advantage wherever it is to be found. More- over, wherever we are we make ourselves happy and are contented, supported by an intense conviction of our superiority over all around us, and by a philosophical belief that it is our bounden duty to make ourselves as comfort- able as is possible under the circumstances in which we are placed. My new friend, having completed his breakfast, said he must go and look after his engines, and, descending the engine-room ladder, left me once more alone. By this time my fellow passengers had nearly all made their appearance, and were walking up and down the deck, in twos and threes, enjoying the pleasant fragrance of the early morn at sea. I was determined to bring my solitary condition to a close, so commenced looking around for " a future acquaintance." Children and dogs are first-rate physiognomists. The former instinctively, as it were, find out who really like them, and do not hesitate to make the first advances. A lost dog will scan the features of those who pass him in the street, and having determined, in his inner mind, that he has found a benevolently inclined human being, will follow him pertinaciously to his home — an attention which I have always considered to be a great compliment, if paid to myself. When I am travelling alone I imitate both the children and the dogs. I scan the physiognomies of my fellow travellers, and when I have found one that is TRAVELLING COMPANIONS. 413 " sympathetic" I make an advance, which I very seldom find repelled. On the voyage from Genoa to Naples, I thus made a very agreeable acquaintance, that of an intellectual and refined gentleman, a coffee planter from Ceylon. His his- tory quite corroborates what I have said of the go-ahead energy of the Anglo-Saxon race when speaking of my two engineer friends. Whilst at Oxford, a relation left him several coffee plantations in Ceylon. He put aside his classics, Homer and Horace, and went off to Ceylon to take possession of the newly acquired property. Once there he threw all his energies into the fresh career, so little conso- nant with former studies and occupations, and had, conse- quently, been very successful. He had passed many years in his new home, and merely left six months previous, to spend a winter in England, on health grounds. In a few years more he expected to have acquired a sufficient fortune to return for good to England, but in the meanwhile Ceylon was his home, his field of battle, and to Ceylon he was returning. Most Frenchmen would have sold the estates for what they would have fetched, and would have gone on with their home career, in "La belle France" but such is not the Anglo-Saxon impulse. We became great friends, and passed a few days together very agreeably at Naples. I shall not easily forget the pleasure with which he looked at a young oak in leaf at Capri. He had not, he said, seen an oak leaf for many years, for the oaks had lost their foliage when he reached England in the autumn. He left it to me to decide whether he should accompany me to Sicily, or go on to Rome. Having only ten days to spare, he could not do both, and I take great credit to myself for having sacrificed my own wishes to what I considered his advantage, in advising him to prefer the " eternal city." Thus it was that I was t( alone" on the voyage to Palermo. On this occasion four Germans, evidently travelling together, found favour in my eyes, and I at once broke the ice by a few trivial remarks on the weather, and on our favourable progress. I found them very pleasant, 414 SICILY. amiable people, and we soon became quite friendly. One was professor of history in a German university, aad a few words about the Grecian antiquities of Sicily, about the Phoenicians, the predecessors of the Greeks, and their suc- cessors the Romans, Saracens, and Normans, were to his ears like the blast of a trumpet to a war-horse, rousing all his historical sympathies. Was he not going to Sicily with two of his student friends on purpose to study these very antiquities ! The fourth was a young German Baron, very high and mighty, with a large carpet-bag quite covered with crowns and recondite armorial bearings. His father was a great man in Germany, the owner of a dozen estates, with innumerable quarterings of nobility, and the son was treated with much respect by his companions. The social state of Sicily, and that of its landed aristocracy, still rich and locally powerful, had as great a charm for him as had history and antiquity for the learned professor. Companions and friends thus secured, for the present at least, I was able to give my undivided attention to the fair island we were now fast approaching. At a distance Sicily appeared to rise from the sea as a chain of low mountains, extending from west to east, but on a nearer approach the mountain chain gained in ap- parent elevation, and a wide bay, that of Palermo, opened out as we approached the land from the north-east. In the background of the bay a magnificent mountain amphi- theatre rises majestically. This amphitheatre has a circuit of twenty-nine miles, and is limited by a bold range of lime- stone mountains which encircle it down to the sea, forming, by their last spurs or projections, Mount Pellegrino on the west, and Mount Catalfano on the east; they constitute the arms or limits of the bay itself. The first mountain barrier that forms the amphitheatre is about, three thousand feet high, but successive ridges rise above each other towards the south, until a height of six thousand feet is attained. It is to the fertile plain, encircled by this noble amphitheatre of mountains, that has been given, from time immemorial, the name of Conca d'c-ro, or the Golden Shell. The width of the bay itself, ARRIVAL AT PALERMO. 415 from Mount Pellegrino to Mount Catalfano, is eight miles ; following the course of the bay it is twelve miles. The town of Palermo, lat. 38° 6', population 219,000, is situated on the shore of the bay, at the junction of the western third with the eastern two-thirds. It is built on each side of a long and fine street, the Via Toledo, which, beginning at the marina or beach, ascends gently inland towards the mountains, so that the city forms a paral- lelogram, and is long and narrow as compared with its width. The port, which used to be much larger and deeper in former days, runs quite into the town. As it is too shallow now for large vessels, the latter anchor inside a mole or jetty, built outside the old port. The view of Palermo as we approached, on a clear, fresh sunny spring morning, was really very beautiful. The grand range of mountains in the background, reaching the sea on each side of the bay, and all but encircling the vast and fertile plain, the large white city, with its numerous cathedrals and churches, shining in the southern sun, the wide tree-planted esplanade or marina, the deep blue water of the sea, all combine to create a scene of loveliness and grandeur which remains ever after engraved on the memory. Nor was the favourable impression destroyed or weakened on landing. The shore, which is laid out as a promenade and drive, and planted with fine trees, just coming into leaf when we arrived, is bordered by handsome houses, among which is the famed Trinacria Hotel, one of the best in Italy. Ragusa, the landlord, lived long, in early days, with English noblemen, and knows the wants and require- ments of our countrymen, which he does his best to meet and supply. The rooms are clean and well furnished, and the front ones have a fine view of the sea and bay, the one drawback being that they look direct north. Once comfortably installed, my first thought was for the state of the vegetation. The principal motive of my visit to Sicily being to study the winter climate as demon- strated by the vegetable world, I was anxious not to lose a day in commencing the survey. I therefore drove at once to the Botanical Garden. After examining it carefully 416 SICILY. I devoted the rest of the day, as also part of each day that I remained, to the study of the meteorological position, and of the vegetable productions of the plain that surrounds Palermo. My intention being to compare the vegetation of the Riviera with that of Sicily at the same epoch of the year, I had carefully analysed it at Men tone and along the Riviera, when I left the one and passed through the other, on the 11th of April. I had also travelled rapidly in order that only a few days might elapse between the date of my de- parture and that of my arrival in Sicily, where I landed on the 17th. The geological character of the soil is the same, cal- careous in both regions. The great difference is that the Riviera is protected from the north by mountains, over which come dry, cold winds, and is open to the southern sun, and to the south winds after they have crossed the Mediterranean — whereas Palermo is exposed, without any protection whatever, to the north, north-east, and north- west winds, which must pass over the Mediterranean to reach it, the amphitheatre formed by the barrier of moun- tains opening out towards the north. The result of this investigation was the conviction that the more southern latitude of Palermo, without mountain protection from the north, gives to it as warm a winter climate as the Riviera enjoys with protection from the north, but not a warmer one. The two regions seem to be singularly identical, considering the distance that separates them, as regards the character of their vegeta- tion and its development, but their climates are very different in other respects. The situation of Palermo, in the southern part of the Mediterranean and on the north shore of Sicily, gives it necessarily a moist winter climate instead of a dry one like that of the Riviera. I will now explain the data on which these views are founded. Palermo being one of the most renowned health climates in the south of Europe every feature connected with it offers great interest. In the open plain south of the town, with a thoroughly northern exposure, but sheltered to a certain extent by VEGETATION AT PALERMO. 417 the city itself, I found (April 17th) the same evergreen tree vegetation as in the more sheltered regions of the Riviera — large Lemon, Orange, and Carouba trees, growing freely and luxuriantly as timber trees. It was quite evi- dent that in descending south I had reached a region where latitude alone gave the immunity from frost that on the Riviera is secured merely by sun exposure and exceptional shelter from the north, an immunity necessary to the well-being of these trees. Still, even here, the Lemon and Orange groves were at some distance from the sea, and occupied the more sun-exposed and sheltered points of the plain at the foot of the mountains ; they were, more- over, all but invariably surrounded by high walls. These walls were destined, evidently, not only to protect the fruit and trees from spoliation, but also to shield them from the north or sea winds. The deciduous trees were still behindhand, indeed scarcely as far advanced as I had left them on the Riviera six days previous. The Hawthorn had not blossomed, and the Fig, Mulberry, and Plane trees were only just begin- ning to show their leaves. Many deciduous trees peculiar to the south were totally devoid of leaves. The Botanical Garden is only a hundred yards from the shore, on the east side of the city, and although it has no other protection from the north and from the sea breeze, than that afforded by a five- feet wall, the spring flower vegetation was in exactly the same state of advancement that I had left it in the most sheltered nooks of the Riviera, such as Monaco, Mentone, San Remo, and Alassio. At the same time these flowers were certainly neither more advanced nor more numerous. Thus, I found in it, as also in the fine garden of the Princess Butera, and in several others which I visited, the following flowers in full bloom : Salvia, Iris, Rose, Bengal and Banksia, Wallflower, Anemone, Petunia, Verbena, Mignonette, Sunflower, Gladiolus, Spiraea, Nasturtium, Poppy, Marigold, Geranium, Candytuft, Hollyhock (three feet high, but not in blossom), Stock, Carnation, Tulip, Peony, Auricula, Cyclamen, Eschscholtzia, Judas tree, Chestnut tree, Elder tree, Hawthorn (about to blossom), E L 418 SICILY. Alyssum, shrubby Euphorbias, Jasminum revolutum, Nettles, and Asphodel. All these flowers, shrubs, and trees I had left equally advanced and flourishing six days previously on the Riviera. Peaches were set as large as small walnuts, Strawberries were served in profusion at every meal at the hotel. Oranges were numerous and first-rate, sweet and juicy. I may here mention that throughout Sicily it is the custom to eat strawberries along with sugar and the juice of an orange or two. The strawberries, what we should call wild or mountain strawberries, come to table without their stalks, are crushed with white pounded sugar, and the juice of an orange is squeezed over them. The result is a most fragrant and agreeable compound, much superior, in my opinion, to strawberries and cream. Indeed, I think it is all but worth while to make a journey to Sicily to be initiated into this mode of eating strawberries. The flowers above named are those that bloom in our climate between April and the early part of* July. Some, the early kinds, such as Anemones, were going off; others, and principally our June flowers, were in full luxuriance. This advanced condition of spring and early summer flower vegetation, and the rather late and retarded state of the deciduous tree vegetation, indicate the warm days and rather cold nights, without absolute frost, that characterize, in winter, the protected regions of the south of Europe. The sun is ardent, and warms the surface of the soil, but the nights are cool, not to say cold, and the sun-heat does not penetrate deep enough into the earth to reach the roots of the trees until the spring be far advanced. The Botanical Garden itself, at Palermo, although in- teresting, was in rather a neglected state, and showed the want of energetic modern direction. The plants were still classified according to the Linnsean system, as at the be- ginning of this century. All the trees, shrubs, and plants in the ground were unlabelled, and part only of those in pots were so honoured. Many of the labels themselves were illegible from rust and time. Indeed, the garden struck me as being in a great measure left to common gardeners, and wanting the direction of a scientific modern botanist. RAINFALL AT PALERMO. 419 On surveying narrowly the shore and the sides of the mountains, I was struck by the absence of the scarred, water-worn ravines which are seen at every mile along the Riviera, or along the sides and at the foot of the Apen- nines, and which are the evidence, in stones, of the tropical rains of these regions. Moreover, the sides of the western sun-exposed mountains were clothed with verdure from their base to their summit, more like the basaltic hills of the west coast of Scotland than the sunburnt, naked summits of the Riviera mountains, the geological forma- tion being in both cases the same, calcareous. To my now rather experienced eye the verdure of the mountain sides, and the absence of water-worn ravines, indicate a moister climate than that of the Riviera, and betoken rain falling oftener and less abruptly. On inquiry from Dr. Moscuzza, a leading physician of Palermo, and a very enlightened, experienced man, and on consulting Professor Scina's valuable work on the meteorology and climate of Palermo (" La Topografia di Palermo e de' suoi Contorni, 1818") which Dr. Moscuzza gave me, 1 found that such is really the case, that the winter climate of Palermo is mild, but damp and moist. At Palermo, according to Professor Scina, there are 131 days in which rain falls, and these rainy days are principally in the winter. At Malaga there are only 40, at Nice 60, at Mentone 80, and even in London only 145. Yet only 21 inches of rain fall at Palermo, which is about the average of London ; that of Nice being 25, that of Algiers 36. These facts prove that the rain must be more continued, more mizzling, more like that of the northern regions of Europe, than is the case on the north shore of the Mediterranean. The greater rainfall at Palermo, as compared with that of the northern shore of the Mediterranean, and the moist character of its winter climate, are explained by its geographical position. The north-east and north-west winds, which principally reign in winter, have had their moisture precipitated before they reach the Mediterranean by the snow-covered mountains of the south of Europe — of Italy, of Corsica, Sardinia, and Spain. The moisture E e 2 420 SICILY, which they contain when they reach Sicily is merely what they have picked up on their subsequent passage over a portion of the Mediterranean. Again, the first ridge of the mountains which form the Palermo amphi- theatre not being very high, nor their temperature very low, owing to the latitude, a part only of this moisture is there condensed and gently precipitated. As the northern winds, which bring these mild rains, have crossed in winter, as we have seen, the snow-clad summits of the Apennines, Alps, and Pyrenees, and of the mountain ridges of Spain, of Corsica, and of Sardinia, they would be much colder were they not warmed by passing over a track of warm sea. The above facts clearly point out the character of the winter climate of Palermo. It cannot be very cold — indeed, it can scarcely ever freeze, as the Lemon-tree thrives, becoming a large tree, in the open air, and a few degrees of frost kill it. The nights, however, being cool from December to April, and the sun-heat being considerable, the daily transition of temperature must be marked, as on the Riviera. But instead of being dry and bracing, as is the climate of the north Mediterranean coast, the climate of Palermo must be rather moist and relaxing. On refer- ring to Professor Scina's work, I find these deductions thoroughly carried out by the data he advances. The mean winter temperature of Palermo, like that of Naples, is higher by some degrees than that of the Riviera. I presume that in both localities this fact is owing to the greater heat of the day, and to the lesser cold of the night. Moist nights are always warmer than dry clear nights with north winds ; it is partly due, also, to the occasional prevalence of the scirocco, or south-east wind from the African desert. This wind always greatly raises the tem- perature everywhere while it lasts, and is a source of much discomfort and distress to the entire community, to the sound as well as to the unsound. Indeed, the increasing heat and the more pernicious character of this African wind, as we go south, in the western regions of the Mediterranean, to a certain extent counterbalance the advantages which may be gained in other respects, WINTER CLIMATE OF PALERMO. 421 Such, a winter climate — temperate, sunny, and rather moist — may be beneficial to a certain class of patients, to highly nervous, excitable, impressionable constitutions, too much braced and stimulated by the dry tonic atmosphere of the Riviera, and with whom the bracing, stimulating climate of Cannes, Nice, Mentone,, or of the east coast of Spain, does not agree. But I do not think it possibly can be as beneficial to those who require invigorating and vitalizing, to those who are suffering, like the phthisical, from defective nutrition and lowered vitality. In the earlier and curable stages of phthisis I am persuaded that the dry invigorating climate of the Riviera, or of eastern Spain, is far preferable in the great majority of cases. I should, however, be inclined to advise a trial of the climate of Palermo, in preference to the north or east coast of the Mediterranean, in severe cases of spasmodic inter- mittent neuralgia, in spasmodic idiopathic asthma, and in cases of phthisis accompanied by much nervous irritability, or by a constant tendency to haemorrhage. These are the forms of disease that do not appear to do well with us on the Riviera ; and if the cause is the dry, and to them the exciting_, character of the climate, it stands to reason- that an equally mild and a more moist atmosphere may be what they require. The winter climate of Palermo appears to hold a medium position between that of Pau and that of Madeira. It is much warmer than Pau, and much colder than Madeira — at least, the nights are much colder. From what precedes it is evident that the climate of Palermo cannot take the place of that of the Genoese Riviera, and that it is not as suited to the common run of consumptive cases. At the same time it is equally clear that there are some forms of disease in which it is specially indicated, and in which it may be of great use, and that more especially when the Riviera fails to afford relief. Palermo is by far the largest and the most interesting city in Sicily. The beauty of the amphitheatre in which it is situated, and the shelter afforded by its port, larger and better in olden times than now, have always made it an important and favourite city. When the Greeks, the Car- thaginians, and the Romans successively occupied Sicily, 422 sicily. Palermo, however, did not enjoy the same amount of pros- perity that it subsequently attained during the reign of the Saracens and of the Norman kings, and, later still, under the Spanish and Neapolitan kings and viceroys. It was the capital of Sicily during the sway of these successive dynasties, and is replete with the vestiges of their dominion. The older churches and palaces — indeed, nearly all the re- mains of antiquity — date from Saracenic and Norman periods. Many of them are very interesting specimens of the Norman architecture of that day, modified by contact with the Saracenic, Byzantine, and Greek styles, which were in the ascendant when the Normans conquered Sicily. The magnificent cathedral of Monreale is the finest example extant of this blended, or Siculo-Norman style of archi- tecture, as it has been called. Sicily, the largest and most fertile island in the Medi- terranean, has, like Corsica, been the prey, the battle-field, of the various powers that have reigned in the Mediter- ranean during historic times. But unlike Corsica, although mountainous, it has no primeval forests, no inaccessible snow- clad mountains, in which its population could take refuge when sorely pressed, and perhaps not such a war- like population, so that it was always eventually conquered. The Greeks colonized it seven centuries before Christ, and built many splendid towns on its southern and eastern shores, those nearest to Greece. It is on these shores, at Syracuse, Agrigentum, Selinus, Segesta, and elsewhere, that are to be seen to this day remains of Grecian temples as numerous and almost as splendid as those to be found in Greece proper. These prosperous communities excited the envy and cupidity of the Carthaginians, the site of whose empire, on the opposite African coast, was too near for their safety. They were attacked and conquered, but their conquerors soon fell before the Romans in the Punic wars, and Sicily remained long a part of the Roman empire. After the fall of Borne Sicily became subject, successively, to the Vandals, to the Byzantines, and to the Saracens, always falling into the hands of the strongest. The Nor- mans at the time of the Crusades drove the Saracens out of HISTORICAL ANTECEDENTS. 423 the island and established the Norman dynasty. Then comes an interminable array of kings and viceroys belong- ing to the imperial house of Germany, to the houses of Anjou, of Aragon, of Savoy, of Austria, of Spain, of Naples, ending in Italia Unita, under the " Re galantuomo," Victor Emmanuel, with a more glorious prospect for the future than ever. Poor Sicily ! The list of its conquerors and governors is perfectly oppressive to the imagination. It must indeed be a beautiful and fertile country to have been worth so much contention in past times. In the days of imperial Rome it was often called the granary of the empire, and is still one of the most fertile and most favoured spots in the Mediter- ranean. Under good government it will, no doubt, in the course of time, arrive at a state of prosperity of which its present inhabitants have no conception. It has within itself all the elements of fertility which made it rich and populous in the days of Greece and Rome — a mild, beautiful climate, a fertile soil, a splendid position. The town of Palermo is very regularly built; the streets are wider, handsomer, and cleaner than those of any town that I have visited in the south of Europe. In addition to the Via Toledo, which passes through the centre from north to south, dividing the city into two parts, there is another street, equally fine, the " Strada-nuova/' which passes through it at right angles to the former, from west to east. These two large streets add greatly to the beauty of Palermo, and make it easy to find one's way anywhere. There is a Moorish character about the architecture even of the private houses that gives a great charm to the place, and many of the shops are very good. The Via Toledo is continued by a road which, emerging from the southern extremity of the town, gently ascends the plain for four miles, when it reaches the suburban town of Monreale, celebrated for its beautiful Siculo-Norman cathedral, and often the suburban residence of the Norman kings, and of the Spanish viceroys. Monreale being nearly two thousand feet above the level of the sea, is cooler than Palermo in summer. The views too, on all sides, are very 424 SICILY. eautiful. This road, and those along the shore towards Monte Pellegrino and Monte Catalfano, are the favourite drives of the Palermitans. The road to Monreale is peculiarly picturesque, owing to the magnificent scenery of the mountain amphitheatre,, which becomes more and more beautiful as we recede from the sea, and owing to the extreme luxuriance of the gently rising plain on each side. It is the same vegetation that we see at Mentone, and in the more sheltered parts of the Riviera, but spread out in a wide garden plain, instead of occupying a seaside ledge under high mountains. Groves of Lemon and Orange trees, interspersed with large stately Caroubas and old Olive trees, and thickets of Aloes and Prickly-pears, are traversed. The ground, too, when I saw it, was one carpet of wild flowers. The town of Monreale is of considerable size (popula- tion 15,000). It has grouped itself round the grand cathedral, built by one of the early Norman kings in the year 1182. The Normans found Saracenic, Roman, and Greek workmen and architects in Sicily, and the churches and palaces they built exemplify a singular but very beau- tiful mixture of all these styles of architecture. They borrowed a peculiar form of pointed arch, with profuse ornamentation, from the Saracens and Moors, apses from the Romans, mouldings with ornamented capitals from the Greeks, and mosaics from the Byzantines. And yet it is from this mixture of so many forms of architecture that issued the very beautiful style, so peculiarly their own, to which the term Siculo-Norman is given. The mosaics are peculiarly rich in the Monreale cathedral ; they cover more than 80,000 square feet. There is a Benedictine monastery adjoining the cathe- dral, founded at the same epoch, which contains some valuable and interesting pictures, and a mosaic ornamented cloister, well worth visiting. Connected with it is a semi- nary for the education of young priests. The great Sici- lian families still, as in former days, send their younger sons and their daughters to convents, in order to accumu- late the property in the hands of the head of the house ; it is the easiest and cheapest mode of providing for them. MONREALE — TRAVELLING IN THE INTERIOR. 425 111 the garden of the monastery I saw many fine-looking boys, from ten to sixteen, in the priest's gown. They were priests in embryo, not through their own will, or from religious vocation, but by their parents' decree. I could not help pitying the poor boys, thus condemned in childhood to a life which later might possibly prove a bitter penance. There are also many convents for women both at Palermo and Monreale, cages for poor fluttering human birds. If a sincere religious vocation drives a man or a woman in the maturity of their intellect to a cloister, it may be respected; but it is very odious to thus imprison and bind for life mere children. Although there are roads in the interior of the island, there are so few travellers that it is not thought worth while to prepare for them, so the inns are mere wine- shops for the muleteers, very miserable and dirty, without resources.* The plan, therefore, for travellers who wish to visit the antiquities, and the interior and southern coast of the island, is to charter a vetturino carriage, and to stock it with eatables, as a yacht would be stocked for a cruise. Being most desirous to see all there was to be seen in Sicily, I and my German friends, who proved very agreeable companions, agreed to travel together, and with the assistance of our host made all the necessary prepara- tions. As a preliminary precaution, I called on the Eng- lish consul, who is also the banker, to exchange gold for a letter of credit, but from him I received the urgent advice not to venture into the interior. He told me that a few weeks before a numerous band of convicts had escaped from the pontoons at Girgenti, and taken refuge in the very mountains that were on our path. If we started, we ran a very fair chance of being taken possession of and detained for a ransom. As I have arrived at an age when, generally speaking, Ci discretion tempers valour/' much to my regret I gave up the intended excursion, as did the German Baron. The professor and his pupils, however, were much too enthusiastic to be arrested by such trifles, and started alone. As for us, with the mental resolve to return at some more peaceable time, we took our places on board 426 sicily. the French Alexandria steamer for Messina. She came in that evening 1 direct from Marseilles and proved a splendid boat. We slept well on board, and the next morning*, when we awoke and got on deck, found, ourselves steaming into the port of Messina. The view of Messina, of the Straits, and of the adjoin- ing mountains, on entering from the Tyrrhenian sea, is perfectly enchanting, and so different from anything seen before that it rivets all the faculties. On a calm, fine morning, such as we were favoured with, the Straits, being only a few miles across, look like an inland lake. On the right is a large handsome town, occupying a semicircle at the foot of high and tree-clad hills ; on the left, or east, rise abruptly from the sea a series of magnificent moun- tain ridges, which rapidly attain an elevation of seven thousand feet. Their rocky flanks, which present little perceptible vegetation, all but glisten in the brilliant sun- shine, whilst their summits are covered with sheets of snow (April 25). Here and there, clinging as it were to the side of the mountain, are numerous villages and towns, with their tall churches and campanili, telling of hidden fertile valleys, and of terrace cultivation, imperceptible at a distance. To the south, above all, towers the snow- covered summit of Mount Etna, although fifty miles distant. The port of Messina, probably the best in the Mediter- ranean, is one of the wonders of that sea. It is a vast abyss or chasm, produced by an earthquake, or volcano, four hundred and twenty feet deep at the entrance, rilled by the sea, and all but closed towards the Straits by a narrow sickle-like promontory. Indeed the port is so sheltered that most of the numerous vessels it contains lie quietly, merely moored to the quays, without anchoring, which they could scarcely do in such deep waters. So thoroughly does the promontory which all but encircles the port to- wards the sea imitate the form of the reaper's hook, one of the oldest agricultural implements, that the ancient name of Messina was Zancle, which means sickle in the primitive Sicilian language. Messina was one of the earliest of the colonies founded MESSINA — EARTHQUAKES. 427 by the Greeks in Sicily, and in successive ages followed the fortunes of the island in all their varied phases. The importance of the situation of Messina at the entrance of the Straits which, in all historic times, have been the high road between the east and the west of the Mediterranean, and the great security offered by its port, have been per- manent sources of disaster as well as of prosperity. It has nearly always been the first town attached and besieged, and often the last retained by the different nations that have conquered Sicily. In addition to sieges without number, Messina has also had to withstand the assaults of nature's mysterious agencies ; lor it has been repeatedly all but destroyed by earthquakes. Lying on the line between Vesuvius and Etna, it has ever been, and must remain, liable to these terrestrial convulsions. The two volcanoes are no doubt connected subterraneously, and are the result of the same agencies, a fact long recognised by geologists. The activity of the one has generally coincided with the quies- cence of the other, and vice versa. For more than a thousand years after the destruction of Pompeii, Vesuvius remained quiet, and during that time Etna was active; now when Vesuvius is active, Etna generally remains all but quiescent, and vice versa. When both are quiescent there is danger, and then woe betide the towns that, like Messina and Catania, are living on or near the volcano. The last serious earthquake that occurred was in 1783 ; it destroyed the greater part of the town, and many thousands of its inhabitants. The combined influence of these two causes of devasta- tion, war and earthquakes, has made Messina a modern city. It has been so often all but destroyed, all but razed to the earth by the one or the other, that it has very few antiquities; most of the buildings are modern, or comparatively modern. Facing the sea, on the western side of the port, there is a row of good stone-built houses, a mile and a half in length, forming a wide crescent, which adds greatly to the beauty of Messina. These houses, at a distance, look like one long and handsome palace. Eighteen streets pass through w T ide arcades in the 428 sicily. basement of the houses on to the marina or port, without breaking its symmetry, or, rather its uniformity. To the north of the town a low neck of land, a kind of sandy promontory, advances into the sea towards the main- land, until it reaches within two miles of the latter, and thus forms the north-eastern or Sicilian entrance to the Straits. This is the well-known Cape Pelorus of the ancients. At its point is a village named Faro, from the Greek Pharos, lighthouse, and a tower, the Torre di Faro. This tower long served both as a fort and as a lighthouse, but now is only used in the latter capacity. The ancients believed that Sicily was formerly a part of Italy, and was torn from it by a convulsion of nature, as shown by the verses from Virgil's " JEneid," at the head of this chapter. Modern geologists do not accept this view. The road from Messina to Faro skirts the shore, and is very fertile and pretty, passing as it does through groves of Olive and Orange trees, with frequent glimpses of the blue sea, and of the grand Calabrian mountains. The distance from Messina is about eight miles, and this drive is not only the pleasantest, but the most fashionable. The distance from the Faro tower to the mainland is so short that on a calm night the crowing of the cocks and the barking of the dogs on the Calabrian coast is distinctly heard. It is stated in history that it was the Messinians who first summoned Count Roger de Hauteville, the Norman Baron, to defend them against the Saracens, and that he and his followers crossed the Straits in boats (1072), swimming their horses by their side. In recent times, Garibaldi crossed from Sicily to the mainland with the remains of his " one thousand" in boats, and it was on the mountain of Aspromonte opposite that he was wounded and taken by the royal troops. It is in these Straits that are situated the famed whirl- pools of Charybdis, so dreaded by the ancients, and the horrible rock of Scylla, with its summit in the clouds, amid eternal tempests, inaccessible to man, and its base deep in the sea among ravenous sea monsters. Admiral Smyth, who surveyed this region, finds very little foundation for those poetical fancies of Homer, and of subsequent classical CHARYBDIS AND SCYLLA. 429 writers. They certainly were not the greatest dangers poor Ulysses had to encounter in his wanderings. The rock of Scylla, says the Admiral, is merely a water- worn rock, like any other, on the Calahrian coast, opposite Faro, surmounted by an old castle. The whirlpool of Charybdis, by the Sicilians called " garofalo," exists near the entrance of the Messina harbour, but in such a form as to be only dangerous to small craft in the hands of inexpe- rienced mariners. To the undecked vessels of the Rhegians, Zanclians, and Greeks, it may have been formidable, for Admiral Smyth has seen a man-of-war whirled round on its surface. It is, apparently, the result of a conflict between a harbour current with the main or tidal currents which set up and down the Straits. "What are much more dangerous to the small vessels that navigate these regions, are the sudden gusts of wind that often come down the fiimare, or dvy torrent beds of the adjoining mountains, with all but irresistible im- petuosity, and capsize vessels unprepared for them. Admiral Smyth says, that he saw thus overtaken and capsized a fine barge, with eighteen first-rate sailors and an experienced officer, who all perished. The barge, which had been on duty with the Sicilian flotilla for years, had been taking a German Princess on board a vessel bound to Palermo. On its return it was seized by so sudden a squall that they could not lower the mainsail, and she instantly capsized. The bodies were picked up the next day, thirty miles to the south, near Taormina. In Messina, there has been found a 'Greek inscription to the memory of thirty-seven youths of Cyprus, who lost their lives near the Faro by a similar disaster. The inscription says, that as many statues, sculptured by Calion, were erected to their memory. Thus were the fine arts honoured and supported by the ancient Greeks, and made subservient to the affections; but in our day, we perhaps do better. "We do not raise statues to the memory of youths who are accidentally drowned, but we not un- frequently think of and look after their mothers and wives. Messina is the great central rendezvous of the steamers 430 SICILY. that navigate the eastern waters of the Mediterranean, and a very flourishing city. It is the principal com- mercial port of Sicily, the main outlet for the north- eastern part of the island, and exports immense quantities of oranges and lemons, and a considerable amount of corn, silk, sulphur, and wine. Although a very beautifully situated commercial emporium, it did not, however, strike me as ever likely to become a winter sanitarium. The Calabrian mountains rapidly recede to the south- east, so that half-a-dozen miles below Messina the Straits are already twelve miles across. Thus Messina receives the south-east sun in full, and is protected by mountains from the north-west. But then, immediately in front, to the east and north-east, there are the high snow-covered Calabrian mountains. In winter the north- east winds must be very cold, and there must constantly be a cold down-draught at night. The city of Messina, and its northern and * western suburbs, show this influence ; there is all but a complete absence of the southern vegetation of Palermo. The hills are covered with Fir and small Olive trees, and the Orange and Lemon trees disappear, or are only observed in sheltered corners. The Fig trees were only beginning to show their leaves, the Vines were merely sprouting, and there were very few flowers in bloom to be seen. Indeed, the proximity of the cold Calabrian mountains appeared to have brought the northern suburbs and the city of Messina, which are in the same latitude as Palermo, nearly to the level of Marseilles. The mountains, at the foot of which Messina is situated, are part of a huge sedimentary or Neptunian chain that runs right through the island from east to west, along the north coast. These mountains, of calcareous formation, extend southwards along the east coast for thirty miles, as far as Taormina, just as the Maritime Alps run along the Riviera or Genoa coast, having also a • sheltered under- cliff, smiling and luxuriant. The coast itself dips to the south-west, as will be seen by looking at the map of Sicily. On the other side of the Straits the Calabrian THE SICILIAN UNDERCLIFF. 431 mountains rapidly lose their great altitude, and expire at the end of the Italian mainland, some fifteen miles below Messina. Owing to the above physical condition, a decided under- cliff or Riviera commences at the south suburbs of Messina, protected from the north and north-west by the coast chain, and gradually less and less exposed to the north-east as it descends southwards. Under these influences of pro- tection, and of exposure to the south-east sun, a wonderful change takes place. Nature bursts into extreme southern luxuriance ; not so much on the advanced or more exposed headlands, which still catch the north-east wind, as in the intervening bays or sheltered ravines. Here vegetation at once assumes a very advanced southern character. Stately Orange trees, sometimes as large as moderate-sized Oaks, and Lemon trees overtopping two-storied houses become common. I saw Oleander trees thirty feet high ; the white Mulberry and the Almond trees were in lull leaf, and the latter had fruit full size, evidently stoning; Fig trees were in leaf, and the fruit large ; the Vines had made shoots four or five feet long. What is called the black Mulberry tree was still all but leafless, as at Palermo, only a few buds and terminal leaves appearing. Few if any cultivated flowers were to be seen, with the exception of Carnations in full bloom in pots or vases on the balconies which most houses of any pretention possess. Wild flowers were numerous in orchards and fields, and pro- minent among them the Gladiolus, which was growing in great profusion. Barley and Oats were in the ear, and Wheat was some two feet high ; indeed, spring vegetation was certainly more advanced than I had seen it in any other part of Sicily. The name given to a village in the more southern portion of this region, Giardini (gardens), implies the recognition in former days, as well as now, of exceptional fertility. The physical conditions are the same as those of the Genoa Riviera, but this underclifT is five degrees further south, and no doubt enjoys a still warmer summer sunshine. Were Messina or Catania situated in this region they would truly be exceptionally favourable 432 sicily. winter stations, but unfortunately they are not sheltered from the north-east. In the midst of this exuberant fertility there is a numerous population, which appeared very poor, squalid, and badly fed. The inhabitants live in large, dirty, decayed villages, in which it would be all but impossible to make even a temporary settlement ; although everywhere the scenery is glorious— rocks, torrents, beautiful bays and promontories. The men are better looking than the women, who seem to have even the beauty of youth ground out of them by work, insufficient food, and exposure to the sun. They wear no covering on their heads, except occasionally a handkerchief thrown over the back part. To screen the eyes from the ardent sun, therefore, they contract a habit of frowning, which impresses premature wrinkles on the youngest brow. Thus the girl of fifteen appears twenty, the woman of twenty, thirty, the one of thirty, fifty, and the one of fifty a hundred. About thirty miles from Messina the mountain chain leaves the coast and takes an inland or westerly direction, skirting for some distance the northern foot of the Etna. Although the undercliff ceases with the town of Taormina aud the village of Giardini, its protection, and that of the mountains trending west, are still felt, and a region of exuberant fertility meets the traveller for some miles further on to the south. The town of Taormina contains numerous antiquities which are well deserving of examination. The most interesting is the remains of a Greco-Roman theatre, the largest in Sicily, and one of the best preserved in Europe. It was made to contain forty thousand persons in the days when Taormina was a great city, four miles in circum- ference. The ancient Taurominium was founded 358 B.C., by the scattered descendants of the inhabitants of the neighbouring city of Naxos, razed, and totally destroyed by Dionysius of Syracuse, 403 B.C. The Naxians had incurred the animosity of the tyrant of Syracuse by allying themselves to Athens in her wars with that city, and by giving winter quarters to the Athenian general Nicias previous to his siege of Syracuse 415-414 B.C. TAORMINA MOUNT ETNA. 433 - Naxos was the first colony made by the Greeks in Sicily, 735 B.C., and was founded one year before Syracuse. It was built on the promontory called Capo Schiso, a few miles beyond Giardini, on an ancient lava stream. No trace of it now remains. Beyond Giardiui begins the domain of the king of European volcanoes, Mount Etna. No better view of Mount Etna can be obtained than from this part of the road from Messina to Catania. For thirty miles it skirts the eastern or sea base, the entire circumference of the base of Mount Etna being 120 miles. Thus does the traveller become gradually impressed with the real grandeur of this magnificent mountain. At first it is difficult to believe that it is nearly 11,000 feet high. The rise to the plain at the summit, from which issues the final cone, is so gradual, and the summit plain itself extends over such an extensive area — many miles from north to south — that the great volcano looks more like a snow-covered ridge than a single moun- tain. The snow at this time of the year covers at least the upper third of the huge mountain — a vast superfices. The moment Giardini is left the scene changes. The soil is merely decomposed lava, a mixture of large masses, like scoria? or slag from a manufactory, of smaller pieces like cinders, and of a brownish black earth like ashes. The more ancient currents of lava seem to be graduallj' resolved into these elements. When cultivation commences the large masses are dug up and piled for walls, the small ones are used to Macadamize the roads, and the ash-like dust con- stitutes the soil ; and very fertile soil it appears to be, merely requiring water to produce anything that is sown. The southern character of the vegetation recedes under the cooling influence of the vast snow- covered plains of Mount Etna. The Fig trees have only terminal leaves, and the fruit is very small ; the white Mulberry trees and Vines have also only a few leaves; the black Mulberry trees are mere sticks, scarcely having their buds formed. Lemon and Orange trees still appear, but only in sheltered valleys and depressions, and are often protected by high walls ; neither are they as large, as vigorous, as tree-like. The Olive tree, however, holds his own, as also do the Opuntiae 434 Sicily. or Barbary figs. The latter are extensively cultivated throughout Sicily as hedges, and for the sake of their fruit. They grow to the height of some twelve or fifteen feet, in a very singular grotesque manner, and assert their claim to being dicotyledonous plants by becoming regular trees, with a large round trunk and bark. This transformation of the flat, fleshy, leaf-shaped branches is quite remarkable. The geologically celebrated Yal del Bove, with its dikes, is seen at a distance, a wide and long chasm on the flanks of the mountain; also the Oak and Chestnut forests below the snow line, which appear as mere black patches. As we approach Catania the very peculiar grim, coal-mouth cha- racter of the region becomes more and more apparent. The walls on the roadside and in the fields, and the out-houses are all made of clinkers, the road of cinders, the soil of ashes. Vineyards are numerous; the Vines — indeed, nearly all plants in Sicily — are planted in the fields between ridges or pyramids of the loose black soil, some eighteen inches high, in order to retain moisture. Even wheat is planted in this way in tufts at the bottom of furrows, and between ridges. In flower gardens the same system is followed. This soil, formed of decomposed lava, appears to contain all the elements of nutrition required for vegetation; every- thing seeming to flourish and thrive in it, provided there be water. The ground vegetation shows less difference than that of the trees. Beans and Peas are ripe, and Vetches in full blossom. Lupins, white and blue, are very abundant, and are extensively cultivated as fodder for cattle. The Hellebore is in flower, and very common; Almond trees are in full leaf, and the fruit natural size ; white and red Convolvulus and scarlet Poppies are abundant. Occasionally, near water, are Poplars in full leaf; in the same situations, Cannas have new shoots, three or four feet long. They grow to twenty feet or more, and are much used for light fencing, as supports to Vines, and for a variety of similar purposes. Pomegranate trees are often seen from ten to twenty feet in height. Giardini is thirty-four miles from Messina, and thirty- two from Catania. The road for these thirty-two miles skirts the base of Mount Etna, and is everywhere cut THE BASE OF MOUNT ETNA. 435 through lava in different stages of decay and disintegration, accordiug to the time that has elapsed since the eruption to which it owes its origin. Indeed, the soil is entirely volcanic. Generally speaking the older the lava the greater the disintegration, and the easier it is to bring it into culti- vation, but this rule is not without exception. Some comparatively recent streams of lava have long been culti- vated, whereas others that have been thrown out before our era are nearly as sterile as at first. Within the last few miles of Catania, where the separation of the clinkers, cinders, and soil has not been made, rivers of lava are crossed, lying in masses, in mounds, in sheets, in plains, and producing little else but Crassulacese. The fertility of the lava is evidently the result of human labour combined with artificial irrigation, brought to bear on it when decayed by atmospheric influences and by time. This entire coast possesses a kind of strange fascination. On the one side is the blue sea that separates us from Greece, on the other the immense mass of the great volcano, tower- ing into the sky between two and three miles above the sea- level. Grim as the landscape appears with its lava-dust soil, only here and there concealed by a sparse vegetation, it is viewed with intense interest. On every side is the evidence of innumerable eruptions, that have given birth to innumer- able streams of lava, both in historic and pre-historic times. In some localities these lava rivers have evidently flowed into the sea, filled up its depths, and pushed back its shores for miles. In others, as at Aci Reale, the lava cliff, six hundred feet high, has clearly been partly formed by an uprising of the coast and of lava streams previously deposited in deep waters. In these cliffs are to be found many caves, into some of which the sea dashes with mysterious, un- earthly sounds in stormy weather. Basaltic columns are also to be seen, nearly as curious and as perfect as those of the Giant's Causeway in Ireland, or of FingaFs Cave in Scotland. It is in this region, and in that of Etna in general, that the ancients placed the earliest events of their mythology. Sicily itself was dedicated to Ceres, the goddess of agri- culture. Jupiter reigned on Mount Etna, and it was under F f 2 436 sicily. its mass that be placed the revolted Titan Enceladus. The convulsive movements of the crushed Titan were the cause of its eruptions. It was in the fertile plains of Buna, at the western base of Etna, that Proserpine was plucking flowers when Pluto carried her off. It was in the same plains that lived Daphnis, the son of Mercury, who invented pastoral poetry to please Diana, the great huntress. The Cyclop Polyphemus lived in one of the lava caverns on the coast, and there pursued with his love the nymph Galatea, who preferred the shepherd Acis. Polyphemus, in his rage, threw a rock at his unfortunate rival, and thus destroyed him. Acis was changed by the gods into a river, and this river still runs through the town of Aci, named after Galatea's lover. It was in a port on this coast, choked by a lava stream in the Middle Ages, that Ulysses took refuge, and fell into the hands of the same Polyphemus — " Portus ab accessu ventorum immotus, et ingens Ipse ; sed horrificis juxta tonat iEtna ruinis." — iEsr. iii. In the sea near Aci, are seven lava or trap islets, remark- able for the numerous basaltic columns they present. These islets were believed by the ancients to be the very rocks thrown by Polyphemus after Ulysses and his com- panions, after they had escaped from his cave. They bear to this day the name of Scogli del Ciclqpi, rocks of the Cyclops. Catania is a large and rather handsome town of eighty- four thousand inhabitants, situated at the very foot of Mount Etna, where the sea approaches the nearest to the base of the great volcano. It is all but encircled by arms or rivers of lava. At the memorable eruption of 1669 a stream of lava, a mile wide, reached the walls of the town ; then it divided and swept into the sea on both sides of the city, not without destroying part of it.. The lava, where it reached the sea just two centuries ago, still looks as if it had only been emitted last year. It is piled on the shore in heaps, like thousands of tons of coal, and gives a very grim, coalpit-mouth appearance to the immediate vicinity of the town. Catania (kcit AiVyrje, under Etna) was one of the earliest C ATAXIA — EARTHQUAKES. 437 of the Greek colonies, having been founded probably about 730 B.C. It soon attained great wealth and prosperity, with a numerous population, owing, no doubt, to its proximity to Greece, and to its being the natural port of the rich and populous district of lower Etna and of the surrounding plains. Although many times destroyed by the sword, and even more frequently still by the eruptions of its friend and enemy, Mount Etna, and by the earthquakes that so often precede and follow them, Catania has always been rebuilt, to recommence its career of prosperity. In modern times the most complete destruction was that commenced by the eruption of 1669, which overwhelmed part of the town. The ruin was all but completed by the earthquake of 1683, which scarcely left any houses standing, and buried fifteen thousand persons. This time the town was rebuilt with architectural method and precision. More peaceful times had arrived ; the neces- sity of cramping the city between narrow walls had ceased, and Catania was rebuilt with, for the south, wide, handsome streets. Hence the modern appearance that it presents. It is said that this open style of architecture, although pleasant in winter, and at all times healthier, makes it insufferably hot in summer, the more so as the streets nearly all run regularly north and south, east and west. From its south- east exposure Catania is much warmer in summer than Palermo, which has the benefit of the north sea winds. The maximum heat at Palermo in summer averages 86° Fah., whereas at Catania it averages 95°. At Mentone the maxi- mum only reaches 81°, less than in London or Paris. Catania is the residence of many of the Sicilian aristo- cracy, some of whom are men of considerable wealth, even according to our ideas. As they travel, and often reside a part of the year abroad, they attain a high degree of intellectual cultivation, which makes their society, I have been told, very agreeable for those who are admitted into the inner circle. There is, also, an appearance of life end animation about the city which must contribute to make it an agreeable residence even to strangers. In former times, in the days of the Greeks, Svracusans, and Romans, property was much divided in Sicily, and agriculture flourished more than in any part of Europe. 438 SICILY. Hieron of Syracuse published an agrarian code, which was considered so perfect by the Romans that they adopted it. During the dominion of the latter, Sicily was so fertile, and so very productive in cereals, that it became the granary of Rome. The Saracens still further promoted agricultural progress by introducing an improved system of irrigation and various new species of culture. The conquest of Sicily by the Normans had a disastrous result. They introduced the feudal system, all but dividing the island between powerful barons and ecclesiastical corpo- rations, often non-residents. A large amount of land fell out of cultivation, and as subsequent governments have, until the recent fall of the Bourbons, encouraged this social condition, agriculture has never been able to recover itself, or at least to resume its former position. Even now, many of the large proprietors let their estates in the block to middle-men, who let and sub-let until the last tenant is ground to the earth. In such a climate, and with such a soil, however, pro- gress is sure to follow enlightenment, and the regeneration of Italy will extend by degrees to Sicily. No doubt the increased facility of communication which steam affords, and the propagation of the doctrines of free trade, will gradually work great changes in the ideas, both of the territorial aristocracy and of the nation at large. Mount Etna, called Mongibello, or mountain of moun- tains, by the modern Sicilians, does nob overshadow the town, although the latter lies at its foot. The ascent is so gentle, on this, the south side, that it is twenty-nine miles from Catania to the summit. On the north side, where the slope is much more abrupt, there are points where the ascent is only twelve miles. This slope is divided into three regions : the cultivated region, pie di montana, or culta, which extends about ten miles, and is the fertile region; the woody region, regione nemorosa, or bosco, which extends some six or eight miles in width ; and the desert region, regione diserta, which commences, according to Admiral Smyth, at a little above six thousand feet, and extends to 10,874, the height of the centre cone of Etna, according to the measurements of the same CATANIA — VEGETATION. 439 authority. In winter the two upper regions are covered with snow, which must exercise a marked influence on the climate of Catania, and of the plains which surround the base of the mountain. I arrived at Catania at the end of April, and carefully' examined the vegetation with reference to climate, as I had done at Palermo. I found two gardens worthy of notice, one on the port, sheltered and protected by the town, with a rivulet running through, which gives an abundant supply of water, the other at the convent of Benedictines. The Benedictine monks have a very hand- some church and monastery on the north-western limit of the city, immediately facing Etna. The great lava current of 1669 submerged the old garden and stopped within ten feet of the church ; a miracle the monks thought due to their prayers. The present garden is built on the lava which covers the former one, on a level with the first storey of the convent. There is no protection whatever between it and the mountain, and at night a cold down-draught must set in from the snow regions. As a result, this garden, notwithstanding its sunny ex- posure and low latitude, might almost be in a sheltered spot in England. The flowers were only the earliest spring flowers, such as anemones, and the geraniums were all in pots. Indeed it was by no means as advanced as a garden at Nice would be at the same epoch of the year. The difference between this garden and the one on the port, protected from the Etna down-draught by the town, and exposed to the south-eastern sun, was very striking ; the latter was one mass of flowers, all planted out — Geranium, Verbena, Heliotrope, Petunia, Antirrhinum, Nasturtium, red Linum (called Inglese by the gardener). Everything was growing with the wildest luxuriance and beauty. The garden was a regular carpet of flowers, and vegetation was as far advanced as it would be in a well- cultivated garden in England in July. The examination of these two gardens was conclusive. From its southern latitude, and from its full exposure to the south-east, Catania would have necessarily a very mild winter climate, were it not for the immediate vicinity 440 SICILY. of the extensive snow-clad plains of the upper regions of Mount Etna. From their gentle slopes there must be a nightly down-draught, or land-breeze, unintercepted by any ridge, which must make the nights cold from Decem- ber until May. When I was there at the end of April, in magnificent sunny weather, the nights were colder than I had felt them for a month before anywhere else in the Mediterranean ; I had to get up in the night to partially close the window, and to put a cloak on the bed. A careful pilgrimage through the cultivated region of Mount Etna to Nicolosi confirmed this view. Nicolosi is a well-known village, twelve miles from Catania, in the direction taken for the ascent. There is a good road, and it is usual for those who wish to ascend to drive in a carriage thus far, and then to take mules. On this occasion I confined myself to the drive. I found evidence everywhere of cold winter nights, as on the Riviera, as at Naples and Palermo, and also of cold down-draughts up to that time from the snow-clad plains of Etna. The deciduous trees, Mulberry, Fig, or Almond, which were the most numerous, were not in leaf, the Vine was only sprouting ; the flowers and ground vegetation reproduced at every step the contrast between the two gardens at Catania. Wherever there was any little valley, any depression, with a ridge to the northwards, vegetation was luxuriant ; it was that of June and July with us. Moreover, in these spots were generally growing Orange and Lemon trees. Where there was no protection, and on exposed ridges, the ground vegetation was backward, and there were neither Lemon nor Orange trees to be seen. This drive is a most singular and interesting one. The most exuberant fertility exists ; but in the midst of cinders, scoriae, and lava-dust. It is perfectly evident that the decomposed lava contains the elements required for vege- tation, and that once it is reduced to the state of soil by time, all that is wanted is sunshine and water. The first is ever present in this favoured climate, the second can only be obtained with great difficulty. In many parts of Mount Etna the shepherds and inhabitants depend entirely MOUNT ETNA — NICOLOSI. 441 for water during the summer on collections of snow pre- served in the higher regions. Indeed Catania and part of Sicily is supplied with snow in summer from Mount Etna. This fact speaks for itself as to the possibility of finding a cool summer temperature on its flanks. The cultivated region of Mount Etna is so fertile that from time immemorial it has been dotted with towns and villages which now number sixty-five and contain three hundred thousand inhabitants, all living comfortably on the bounty of the soil. It produces abundantly oil, wine, lemons, oranges, almonds, cereals, silk, and fruits of every description. Nicolosi, 2264 feet above the sea, is composed of low, one- storied, solidly-built cabins or houses. They are thus built as a precaution against earthquakes, to which this village is even more exposed than Catania. The view both of the mountain and of the plains below, of Catania, and of the sea, is very beautiful. In the immediate vicinity are two volcanic cones, the Monti-Rossi, which are of recent forma- tion, for they were thrown up in the eruption of 1669, One of the peculiarities of Mount Etna is that its eruptions have, from time immemorial, as often, or oftener, taken place from new cones formed on the flanks as from the principal one at the apex. There are hundreds of those secondary cones of all sizes on the sides of Etna, extending from the upper or deserted region to the cultivated one. Many of the cones are of great size. Thus one of the twin Monti-Rossi, so named from their red colour, is two miles in circumference at its base, and is by no means one of the largest. These cones are side by side, and protrude from the mountain like two half-spheres. They are quite naked, but many of the secondary ones are clothed with timber, which sometimes extends down to the bottom of the old crater; the effect is then very picturesque. Tourists who intend to ascend to the summit of the volcano, here take guides and mules, and begin the more fatiguing part of the ascent, through the woody region of the Bosco. The species of trees vary in different regions of the mountain, but on the south-east, or Catanian side, they are as we ascend Chesnut, Oak, Cork, Fir, Beech, 442 sicily. Birch, and Hawthorn. There are many wood-covered cones in this region, and they are said to be very lovely, as are the woods in general. I was told both at Catania and at Nicolosi that the forest glades, especially in the higher wooded regions, are cool and pleasant in the most scorching heats of the Mediterra- nean summer. It struck me that nature has provided an admirable sanitarium, the very place I was searching for, as yet quite ignored, in the sylvan retreats of Mount Etna. In Switzerland the physicians of the lar^e towns, such as Geneva, Lausanne, and Lucerne, are well aware that the great heat of even the Swiss plains is very injurious to the sick, to the weak, and to all convalescents, and that cool mountain air is life in such cases. They have, therefore, by their advice, led to the establishment all over Switzerland of mountain hotels or pensions, at elevations of from two to three or five thousand feet. To these hotels they send many convalescent and debilitated persons during the sum- mer months, and to them also resort multitudes of the sound and strong, to escape from the extreme heat of July and August. Why should not our heat- oppressed and fever-stricken countrymen in the South Mediterranean, at Malta, Naples, and elsewhere, establish some such sanitarium or mountain pension on the cool slopes of Mount Etna? Would it not even be worth while for our Government, if feasible, to found such an establishment for the troops at Malta ? Invalids have now either to bear the tropical heat of Malta, or to be sent home, a long and expensive journey. Were such a sanitarium established there would be no real difficulty in obtaining supplies, in the immediate proximity of a large city of eighty-four thousand inhabi- tants, with a good carriage road as far as Nicolosi. This village being twelve miles from Catania, there would only remain six or eight to ascend on mules, to reach the probable site. Such a sanitarium would, I feel convinced, be a great boon to southern Europe, and I hope yet to see it established. The deserted region, very aptly so called, comprises the last four thousand five hundred feet of the volcano. In MOUNT ETNA A SUMMER SANITARIUM. 443 winter it is entirely covered with, snow, whieli descends low down into the Bosco ; in summer, it is *>nly partially so covered. It contains no life, vegetable or animal — scarcely a lichen or an insect, and is a desert of ashes, scoria?, and cinders. The final cone, now eleven hundred feet high, rises out of a wide and long plain at the summit of the mountain ; its height varies from one eruption to another. Sometimes part of it falls into the wide crater, and thus the height of the mountain is lessened ; sometimes a new eruption of ashes and lava rebuilds it higher than ever. Mount Etna is truly a magnificent and intensely interesting sight ; it is certainly the most wonderful object in nature it has ever been my good fortune to see, and is alone worth the trouble of several journeys to Sicily. The above pages were written on the occasion of my first visit to Sicily in 1863, when I was not well enough to ascend beyond Nicolosi. I have recently (May, 1874) paid Sicily and Catania another visit, and being in better health, more equal to exertion, I have carefully explored the lower regions of Mount Etna, with a view to the discovery of a locality suited for the summer sanitarium. After driving to Nicolosi, I took mules and ascended as high as the house called the " Casa del Bosco" at an elevation of 6233 feet. It is the house where those who wish, to ascend to the summit of Mount Etna usually pass the night. We reached this point of the ascent without any fatigue, a distance of eight miles from Nicolosi, in two hours and a half, by a very tolerable but rocky track, one that any lady or child could easily take. We were told that the snow had only disappeared in this district for about a week ; later, however, than usual. The ascent was very gentle, over slightly-rising plains and sloping hills. From the tl Casa" the ascent becomes more precipitous, but I went no further, satisfied that I had found a spot where a mountain hotel, or summer asylum against heat might be advantageously established. The forest of old Chestnut trees described by former writers has been cut down for timber. Lying near the path were several huge trunks, many feet in circumference, and the remains of trees hundreds of years old, which had not yet been removed. Their place was, however, supplied 444 Sicily. by young trees, Chestnuts and Oaks, from ten to fifteen years old. The«air was fresh and pleasant, the view over Catania and the adjoining Simeto plain truly splendid. The vegetation was principally composed of grasses, small Thistles, Daisies, Silene, Saponaria calabrica, Taraxacum, Mustard, Nettles, white Clover, Blackberries, Ivy. There were wild Plum and Pear trees in flower, oak brushwood, and patches of cereals, bearded Wheat and Barley, and Lupins. As we were two hours and a half reaching this spot from Nicolosi, and two hours driving from Catania to Nicolosi, the entire ascent from Catania took four hours and a half in all, 'twenty miles. Catania, on the other hand, is only seven hours distant from Malta, so that it would be possible to dine at Malta, sleep on board the steamer, and be more than 6000 feet high on Mount Etna by breakfast time the next morning, in a region cool and pleasant during the greatest heat of the scorching Mediterranean summer. Once there the days might be spent delightfully in ascents to higher regions, and in exploration of the picturesque flanks of " Mongibello," in a wilderness of cones and craters, of rocks, valleys, glades, and woods. Nothing would be easier also than to get daily supplies of every kind from Catania. The " Casa del Bosco," and the surrounding region of Mount Etna, belong to a Spanish nobleman who would no doubt favour the plan, not only for the public good, but also because it would give value to a property now all but valueless. We had a beautiful day, there were no clouds on the mountain, only a long streamer of white smoke from the cone, the entire elevation of which we saw distinctly. Nicolosi and the "Casa del Bosco^ lie on the south-east side of Etna. In order to see if a better locality could be found in another direction, I attempted to carry out a long and ardently desired project, a visit to the Col del Bove. The Col del Bove is an immense valley or hollow, scooped out of the north-eastern flank of the mountain by some mysterious agency, large enough to swallow up Mount Vesuvius and its cone. The entrance to it is twenty miles from Catania, so I took a carriage and pair and started at six a.m. MOUNT ETNA— VAL DEL BOVE. 445 We passed through many smiling villages, apparently the abode of peace and plenty, through a land literally flowing with oil and wine, rich in figs, fruits, and corn. The highest villages reached were not more than 2000 feet above the sea, and they were mostly between 1000 and 1500 feet. In all there were modest villas, belonging to the Catanians I was told, who there spend the hot days of summer. Arrived at the end of our drive, at the village of Zaffa- rana, we hired mules, and started for the ascent, one of the most glorious and fascinating I ever made. For a few hundred feet more, up to 2500 feet, there were still patches of cultivation, vines, cereals, figs, and then we reached a billowy sea of lava. We crossed and recrossed rivers and streams, and torrents of lava, over rocks, boulders, cinders of lava, under and over cascades of lava. We saw where it had rushed over ridges and mountain sides, where it had poured over precipices, filled valleys, and crossed older lava torrents. Indeed, we witnessed every conceivable and in- conceivable vagary and freak that rivers of molten metal, issuing at one period from one direction at another period from a different one, can possibly accomplish on a rugged mountain side. I was entranced, and forgot all the discomfort of being on a mule without a saddle, sitting on a sack of straw, with merely loops of rope for stirrups. But man never is to be truly blest. Just as we reached the entrance of the grand amphitheatre, which forms the Val del Bove, a mass of clouds, which had for some time been hovering over us, rapidly descended, concealed every- thing from our view, and bid us retrace our steps lest we should be lost in their cold embrace. This I did very sadly, for there was but little chance of my ever again being able to visit this scene of geological enchantment. We were at an elevation of four thousand feet. All culti- vation had long ceased, and Lichens, Mosses, Ferns, Brooms, and Crassulaceaa were abundant in the crevices of the older lavas. The Ferns were Ceterach, Polypodium vulgare, As- plenium trichomanes, Pteris aquilina. The moisture and coolness of this region were evidently favourable to the disintegration of the lava, for that of 1852 was already 446 SICILY. covered with Lichens, and lower down, that of 1773 was cultivated ; whereas near Catania the lava of the latter date is still absolutely naked, as devoid of vegetation as the day it was poured out of the volcano. I heard from my guide many interesting details respect- ing the eruption of 1852, the greatest since 1669. The river . of lava only stopped a few hundred yards above the village of ZafFarana, the one at which we commenced our ascent. The villagers had long given up all hope, and had removed their goods and chattels. As at Catania, the lava stopped just behind a church, which was and is considered a miracle. Although the eruption lasted months, and poured out a sea of lava, occasioning great devastation, there were no human lives lost ; there was only one serious accident,andoneanimal burnt. AyoungEnglishman jumped, for a freak, on to a rock, which was shown me, then en- circled with molten lava. He missed his footing, and fell with one leg into the burning stream. The leg was con- sumed to the knee, and he had to suffer amputation, but sur- vived. The mule, less fortunate, jumped on the molten lava in an agony of fright and a fit of disobedience, and was burnt to death. The one was not more reasonable than the other, said my guide, who told me this tale; both deserved their fate ! The result of the excursion was to confirm the conclu- sion previously arrived at— that the vicinity of the " Casa del Bosco" is the locality best adapted for an Etna sani- tarium. In the smiling villages through which I passed there are already, however, as stated, many villas, no doubt easily obtainable, which would be a great improvement on Malta and the mainland as a summer residence, but they are not high enough on the mountain to escape entirely the summer heats. In conclusion, I saw no reason to think that the winter climate of Catania was superior or even equal to that of the Riviera, and to that of Mentone in particular. As we have seen, it is exposed to cold winds from the north and north-west, the direction in which Etna lies; that moun- tain being covered with extensive plains of snow all winter, down-draughts from these snow plains must reach it. WINTER CLIMATE OF CATANIA. 447 Moreover it is quite unprotected from the cold north-east winds which descend from the Calabrian and Dalmatian mountains, snow-covered during the winter. The mean winter temperature of Catania, like that of Palermo and of Naples, is higher by some degrees than that of Mentone and of the Riviera ; but T believe that in both localities the fact is in a great measure owing to the occasional prevalence of southerly winds, and especially of the scirocco, or south-east wind. The latter comes from the African deserts, the hottest summer climate in the world, like a blast from a furnace, gathers a great amount of moisture from the sea as soon as it touches it, and reaches Sicily as a hot, damp wind, most enervating and relaxing". It is dreaded throughout the island, as at Malta, even more by the natives than by strangers, and is de- cidedly a weak point in Sicilian climate. It generally lasts three or four days, with the thermometer from 90° to 95°, although it feels much higher, producing excessive dejection and lassitude. While it continues it is a source of the greatest discomfort to the entire community, to the sound as well as to the unsound. As I have already stated, the trying nature of the scirocco, or south-east wind, as we reach the more southern regions of the west Mediter- ranean, counterbalances to a great extent the advantage gained by intenser sun heat. The scirocco appears to be more oppressive at Palermo, although on the north coast, than at Catania, or in any other part of the south of Sicily generally. This is supposed to be owing to the rever- beration of the sun's rays from the rocks in the moun- tain amphitheatre behind Palermo increasing its heat. During its persistence the streets are deserted and silent, the natives shutting themselves up in the houses with closed windows and doors. This wind was as much detested by the ancients as by the moderns. Admiral Smyth says it was, without doubt, " the evil vapour of Homer (Iliad v.), into which Mars retreated when wounded by Minerva." Nevertheless I think a residence at Catania in winter would probably suit those who, without being seriously ill, require a sunny, temperate climate, rather drier and more 448 SICILY. bracing than that of Palermo, not so dry or so stimulating as the north shores of the Mediterranean. To some the proximity of the king of European volcanoes, the strange- ness of this volcanic region, the facility with which from it other parts of the Mediterranean can be visited in spring or autumn, may appear a positive advantage, and incline them to choose Catania as their winter abode. The town appears to be exceptionally clean and open for a southern city, and offers many resources. When I first visited Catania there was no comfortable hotel, but this drawback has been removed by the erection of the large and commodious " Grande Albergo di Catania." It is under Swiss management, and is as good as the general run of large hotels on the mainland, but then the prices have become the same. This is the invariable result of improve- ment in hotels on the Continent, with English comforts, or even with the mere attempt to attain them, we have every- where and anywhere to accept English or Parisian prices. The town of Catania has much improved since I first saw it twelve years ago, and is still improving. New houses and streets have been built, and a really lovely public garden has been planted and opened by the municipality in a very good position, just above the town, underneath the Do- minican church. It is called " Giardino Bellini/'' in honour of the renowned composer. The house in which was born the author of " Norma/'' " Puritani," " Sonnambula," abuts on the garden. Bellini is much revered by his countrymen, who highly appreciate the honour of having given birth to such a man, a very fountain and temple of melody. They deeply deplore his early death, as do all musical mankind. The Botanical Gardens also deserve a visit ; what I saw in both these gardens only confirmed former impressions. There is now a railroad open from Messina to Catania and Syracuse, but, as on the Genoese Riviera, the gain is a loss. The object of my excursion to Sicily was more especially to study the position and climate of Palermo and Catania. Having brought this investigation to a satisfactory issue, I felt free to depart. Catania is, however, too near to Syra- cuse; and Syracuse is too intimately connected with the history of the ancient Greeks and Romans, which all but THE VOYAGE TO SYRACUSE. 449 engrosses our youthful thoughts during twelve or fourteen years of early life, for a strong desire to visit it not to arise. There was a small Sicilian steamer, starting the next day, and as it proved calm and fine I went on board at 10 a.m. This time I was again quite alone. My young German Baron had proved a very agreeable co'mpanion at Messina, notwithstanding his heraldic carpet-bag. Once we had left his countrymen at Palermo, and he found himself alone with me, all stiffness and hauteur disappeared. He seemed to lean upon and to confide in me, and we spent several days together very harmoniously, then separating, he for Naples, where he intended rejoining his family, I for Catania. The morning was, as usual, very beautiful, and the motion of the vessel was so easy and steady that there was no excuse for being even uncomfortable. The blue sea danced merrily at the bows of the little steamer, and as we receded from the land, whilst crossing the Gulf of Catania, the mountain of mountains (Mongibello) rose higher and higher on the north-western horizon. Indeed, the further we receded the grander and more imposing did Mount Etna become, dis- tance merely bringing out in greater relief the colossal proportions of the king of volcanoes. Catania soon became a mere mass of white houses on the sea-shore, whilst above was spread out, as in a panorama, the different regions of Etna — the green cultivated district, dotted with numerous white villages and towns — above, a wide belt of forest trees, the Bosco, of a more sombre hue — and then a naked region which extended higher and higher to the abode of eternal snow. From the sea, at the distance of some thirty miles from Catania, not only were all these details distinctly visible, but the large plain at the summit, and the terminal cone in the centre, also came into view. This cone, although rising nearly eleven hundred feet from the ter- minal plain, appeared to be merely a small mound. There were no foreigners on board except myself; all were Sicilians, so I had to make myself as agreeable as I could, in rather second-rate Italian, to the captain and his lieutenant. The steamer was a small coasting vessel which once a fortnight performs the journey from Palermo to the Lipari Islands, Messina, Catania, and Syracuse, and G G 450 SICILY. back. I had been cordially received on arriving 1 on board as un Inglese (an Englishman), and by this name, or by that of il Inglese (the Englishman), I remained known both during this and the return voyage, as also at Syracuse. I now felt that I had quite got out of the beaten track, and that my own identity had completely merged into that of my nationality. The officers of the ship, although civil and obliging, readily answering any questions, were evidently not classical scholars, or even historians They told me they could not well understand what we " Inglesi" went to Syracuse for. It was not a pretty town, and there were only a few old ruins, " delle antichita/'' of no great interest, to see. The magic of the past was a closed book to them; > they could not shut their eyes and see before them, as a thing of to-day, the great city of former times, with its eight hundred thousand inhabitants, its palaces and temples, its wealth, its numerous legions, and its hundreds of triremes or vessels of war. On the other hand, they were quite alive to all questions pertaining to present times, were enthusiastic in behalf of Italia Unita, and told me that all the young men in the island were in favour of the annexation to Italy, of the expulsion of the Bourbons, of free trade with other nations, and of progress in general. We shall never again, they said, put our neck under the yoke of the retrograde party. While coasting the low shore of this part of Sicily a number of quails came hovering round the vessel. Just arrived from the continent of Africa, and tired with their long journey, the poor birds of passage wanted to rest on our ship, the first " land" they had reached. The officers armed themselves with guns, and shot at the weary birds as they approached, an act of cruelty I could hardly forgive. The birds were evidently so tired that, although driven away by this harsh reception, they soon returned to the vessel for rest. Fortunately my friends were not good shots, and did but little execution. Quails arrive in great numbers in every part of Sicily at this time of the year, but more especially on the south coast. About four o'clock in the afternoon we rounded the cape of Panagia, came in sight of the far-famed promontory of SYRACUSE — ITS HISTORY. 451 Ortygia, on which the town of Syracuse is situated, and were soon safely moored in the spacious port. *This port is one of the very best in the Mediterranean, according to modern authorities, although it was formerly believed to be too shallow to admit large vessels. It was Nelson who first showed the fallacy of this view by sailing in with a large fleet. Syracuse is, perhaps, the most interesting spot in Sicily, on account of its grandeur and prosperity in ancient times, of its intimate connexion with the national history of Greece, Carthage, and Rome, and of the numerous remains of antiquity that it still presents. It was founded one year after Naxos (734 B.C.) by a colony of Corinthians, and rapidly attained a degree of wealth and prosperity un- rivalled by any other of the colonies of Greece. In the year 485 B.C., under Gelon, it was able to offer thirty thousand men and three hundred vessels of war to Greece when attacked by Persia, and a few years later defeated the Carthaginians at Him era, and crushed their power in Sicily. In the year 415 B.C. began the deadly struggle with the Athenians, which ended by the defeat and capture of the Athenian general Nicias and of his army, after one of the most celebrated sieges in ancient history — a siege vividly described by Thucydides. It is said by this historian that the power of Athens never recovered from the defeat. The names of the Syracusan kings or tyrants, Hieron, Thrasy- bulus, Dionysius, Timoleon, Agathocles, are mixed up inextricably with Grecian history. Under them the popu- lation of Syracuse reached eight hundred thousand, and their dominion extended over the greater part of the island. The town itself was fourteen miles in circumference. In the year 214 B.C. Syracuse was besieged by Marcellus, the Roman general, and fell before his legions, notwith- standing the bravery of the inhabitants and the skill of Archimedes, the greatest mathematician and engineer of Grecian times, after an independent existence of 522 years. Syracuse then became merely a Roman provincial town, and one hundred and fifty years later Cicero resided there as praetor. He has left, in his oration against Verres, a graphic description of its beauty, of its monuments and G G 2 452 sictly. of its wealth. Subsequently it followed the fortunes of the rest of Sicily, gradually losing the importance it had acquired in ancient times. Even now, however, after the lapse of more than two thousand five hundred years, Syracuse is a rather handsome provincial town of more than sixteen thousand inhabitants. The modern town is still situated on the peninsula or island called Ortygia, connected artificially with the mainland in ancient times. It was on this peninsula, about two miles in circumference, which partially forms the greater port, that the town of Syracuse was first founded. As it rose in importance and prosperity it overflowed on to the mainland, until five new towns, there situated, were comprised within its walls. By degrees these suburbs or towns of former days have decayed and crumbled into dust, until now a few ruins are the only evidence of their presence. The most impor- tant and interesting are the Latomiae or quarries, the cata- combs, the remains of the Greek theatre, of the Roman amphitheatre, of the walls that surrounded the city, and fragments of various temples and buildings. All these ruins are deserving of careful study and investigation, as is the town itself. The latter contains much to interest the classical traveller, and more especially a temple of Minerva, now doing duty as the cathedral, and the fountain of Are- thusa, still as clear and as abundant as when in olden times the Greeks thought they saw in it the nymph Arethusa hastening to the sea, and mingling her waters with those of her lover Alpheus, the river god, from whom she had tried in vain to fly. The fountain of Arethusa is an abundant spring of fresh water, which bursts out of a cave on the seashore of the island of Ortygia, and which was and is still sepa- rated from the sea by one of the bastions of the city wall, so as to form a semicircular pool or basin. It was supposed to be part of a neighbouring river, the Alpheus, which had passed under the sea that separates the island from the mainland by a subterranean passage. Thus Virgil describes it in the " JEueid :" SYRACUSE — CLIMATE. 453 '- Alpheum fama est hue, Elidis arnnern, Occultas egisse vias subter, mare; qui nunc Ore, Arethusa, tuo Sieulis confunditur undis." Carried away by classical recollections, I forgot at first meteorological and botanical studies, but soon my thoughts returned to a more practical channel. At Syracuse, and in the plains that surround it, I found that the cooling influence of snow-clad Etna was evidently less. The Lemon and Orange trees were creeping out of valleys and shelter, and were larger. Still even here, in the extreme south of Sicily, the value of protection is fully illustrated. The two largest Orange and Lemon trees that I saw in Sicily were growing in one of the Latomiae; the Lemon tree was as large as a goodrsized oak. These Latomiae are enor- mous excavations or quarries in the solid rock, made in the days of Syracusan prosperity, to furnish stone for its temples, its walls, its buildings. In one of these were long confined Nicias and the seven thousand Athenians taken with him on the banks of the river Asinarus, when they fled, defeated, from the walls of Syracuse. Another, a vast excavation in the shape of the letter S, is still called Dionysius' ear, from its being supposed that it was exca- vated in this shape in order that the tyrant Dionysius might hear the conversation of his prisoners, from a private chamber acoustically contrived. These quarries or excavations, from fifty to one hundred feet deep, have been for centuries converted into gardens, and are the scene of the most luxuriant fertility ; some of the Lemon and* Orange trees are regular forest trees. At the bottom of this novel kind of Sicilian conservatory they have sunshine and warmth, and quite escape all cold winds. The view from Syracuse and from the heights to the north-east called Acradina, where the principal part of old Syracuse was built, extends over a marshy, ill-cul- tivated, unhealthy plain, through which meanders the river Anapus. This plain, of alluvial soil, contributed to maintain the eight hundred thousand people the city for- merly contained. The soil and sun are there, still the same, but the labour of former days, the energetic action of man, is wanting. 454 SICILY. The more I see of the south of Europe the more I he- come convinced that its vaunted fertility is a mere myth, unless lahour and capital can be brought to bear. Southern rivers, left to themselves carry devastation with them, denude the mountain regions, overflow the plains, and render them pestilential marshes, as we have seen when speaking of Corsica. It requires immense labour, and great capital, to keep them within bounds, to make them fertilize the regions which they would otherwise destroy or render uninhabitable. Withdraw the labour, leave them to themselves, and you very soon get marshes like the Pontine, the Tuscan, the Corsican, now all but uninhabi- table from malaria, but which formerly nourished hundreds of thousands of inhabitants. On the other hand the mountain sides, the dry plains in the south, left alone, un- watered, are parched, burnt up by the sun. They too require labour and capital for their inherent fertility to be developed. Syracuse was the most southern region of Sicily that I reached. I was very desirous, as previously stated, to have examined the central and south-western regions of the island, and could easily have done so by returning to Palermo through these parts of the island. The reports of danger to travellers, however, that reached me at Palermo w r ere confirmed at Syracuse, so I thought it best to retrace my steps, and return by Catania, and Messina. Limited as it thus proved, my exploration of Sicily was, however, sufficiently extensive to demonstrate the fact already asserted — viz., that four or five degrees of latitude barely compensate for the complete protection from north winds which is found in the more favoured parts of the .Riviera, between Nice and Genoa. The proof of this cli- mate fact is found in the circumstance, that not only are the vegetable productions of Sicily and of the Riviera all but identical, but that the progress of spring is the same in the two regions. We may allow an advantage to Sicily, even on the north and east coast, where there is complete shelter and protection from the north, or from cold mountain blasts. No doubt on the south-western coast, opposite Africa, this advantage is still greater, but I do not think it FROM MESSINA TO MARSEILLES. 455 would be possible for invalids to pass the winter in any of the small towns of the south-western coast with any degree of comfort. It may at least be surmised that such is the case, from the fact alone that travellers have to take pro- visions with them, as for a sea voyage. On returning to Messina I learnt, to my very great satisfaction, that the French steamer was expected from Alexandria the next day, and would sail for Marseilles direct. That day was spent rather anxiously waiting for it ; the sense of isolation had increased upon me, and now that my thoughts were turned homewards, I was anxious to depart even from sunny, smiling Sicily. I shall not readily forget the pleasure with which I saw the Eury- ant he enter the port towards evening, as I was sitting alone at the window of my room. She is a noble screw steamer of more than two thousand tons, and glided silently and majestically into the port, like a large black swan, like a thing of life. We started that evening, passed, the ever-smoking, ever- flaming Stromboli volcano a few hours later, and then were soon out of sight of land in the old Tyrrhenian Sea. The steamer was a splendid ship, with accommodation for a hundred and thirty cabin passengers. As there were not thirty on board, I had a large cabin to myself, where I slept nearly as well as I should have done in my own house. We were three nights and two days on board, from Monday evening to Thursday morning, when we reached Marseilles, and, as the weather continued fine, I quite enjoyed the voyage, although a bad sailor in bad weather. My compagnon this time was a middle-aged merchant captain, who had been beating about the world for more than thirty years. He told me many strange tales, but none more interesting than his own. Three years previous he was in command of a merchant ship bound for Buenos Ayres. When nearing the American coast he was overtaken by a terrible storm, and after battling with the elements for three days and nights, the ship became water-logged, utterly unmanageable, and was cast ashore. The breakers and surf were terrific, and, alone of all the crew, he reached the land, he scarcely knew how. On recovering from the first stupor 456 sicily, he found that the coast was a low sandy one, with no evi- dence of habitation. He was overcome with fatigue and drowsiness, never having slept for three nights and days, and finding two empty casks on the beach, knocked the heads out, put them close together, and crept in for shelter, as there was a cold wind blowing. In this impromptu retreat he slept twelve or fifteen hours, but, on awaking, found that he could not move. The two casks had slightly paited, and between the two a small chink or space remained, through which the wind had struck his loins, producing a hand of acute rheumatic pain. He was rescued by some of the inhabitants of the country, attracted to the spot by the wreck, but never recovered the effects of the night's expo- sure, and had never since then been able to follow his usual seafaring life. He had consequently accepted the office of surveyor to Lloyds. The duty of the surveyors to this insurance company is to transport themselves, when ordered, to any point- where a -wreck occurs, to examine into the circumstances of the case, in the interest of the company, and to make certain that the claim made for insurance is perfectly true and real. He had just been sent in this manner to the vicinity of Brindisi, in the Adriatic. A vessel laden with corn had gone aground in a gale, and the captain had reported that it was a perfect wreck, and that ship and cargo were lost. On arriving he found the ship stranded, but not broken up, and by a judicious expenditure of five hundred pounds, he got it off, thus saving both ship and cargo, and his employers many thousand pounds. He told me that he lived with his wife and family at Bath, and that he was thus liable at an hour's notice to be sent to any part of the globe on similar missions. He was paid by a regular salary, with the addi- tion of travelling expenses. It is a singular position, to be quietly at home with one's family in the morning, in an inland town, liable to be sent at an hour's notice to any part of the habitable world, say to China, to Australia, to South America. On the morning of the second day we passed through the straits between Corsica and Bonifacio. These straits are most picturesque, and the steamer glides between rocks THE STRAITS OF BONIFACIO— A SHIPWRECK. 457 and islets, very similar to those that skirt the coast on the way from the Crinan canal to Oban. Caprera is passed at the eastern entrance of the straits, and we looked with interest at Garibaldi's little house, which we saw distinctly. These straits are free from danger in fine weather, but are very perilous in stormy times, especially to sailing vessels, which are constantly lost in winter. I was told of a singular and disastrous wreck that occurred at the time of the Crimean war. A French transport, with two regiments on board, on their way from Toulon to the Crimea, was wrecked near Bonifacio, but the men saved,. They managed to land on the Corsican coast, and were taken back to Toulon. From thence they made a fresh start for the Crimea, in a steam frigate, the Seinillairie. Again at the Straits of Bonifacio they encountered a severe storm, and this time the vessel ran on a rock, foundered, aud out of 2500 men, not a soul was saved. There was a fatality over these poor soldiers ; they were not to escape a watery tomb. Hundreds of bodies were thrown up on the adjoining shores, and were buried in the cemetery of one of the islands. The body of the captain was found dressed in full uniform, with all his decorations on; he had dressed to die ! Our progress continued easy and prosperous in the splendid ship. Several times the sea rose, but we scarcely felt it, so great was the size of the vessel, and so free was it from motion. On the Thursday morning we reached Marseilles, fifty-six hours after leaving Messina, and then all isolation finished, for even thus early I found myself in the midst of valued friends, CHAPTER XIII. SARDINIA. THE VOYAGE — LA. MADDELENA — THE STRAITS OE BONIEACIO — PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY — PORTO TORRES SASSABI — OSILIO ORISTANO — IGLESIAS — THE ZINC AND LEAD MINES — CAGLIARI. On the 19th of April, 1874, I left Leghorn for Porto Torres, in the Straits of Bonifacio, and the principal northern port of Sardinia, touching at Bastia. It was no longer my old friend the Virgilio which performed this voyage, but a long narrow fast steamer, quite new. Fortunately for the passengers the weather was calm, as otherwise we should have suffered fearfully, all these long narrow swift steamers being " terrible" rollers. On this occasion again I escaped a terrible storm by consulting the barometer. I intended starting by a previous steamer on the 15th, but the barometer collapsed half an inch, so I went to Florence, stayed there a few days, and on the 19th had the benefit of the lull that usually follows a storm. Thus once more I had a calm and pleasant passage to Bastia, remaining on deck all day, watching at first the receding mountains of the mainland, and later those of Corsica, as they loomed larger and larger on the horizon. On this occasion we passed close under the island of Capraja, which lies midway between Leghorn and Corsica. It is a rocky mountainous islet, which rises boldly out of the sea to a considerable elevation, and is only a few miles in circumference. Its precipitous slopes are covered with vegetation; and on the southern shore there is a village, with its small church, principally inhabited by fishermen. There is, I was told, but little communication with the mainland, and life on such an islet must be merely an improved edition of living in Eddy stone lighthouse. And yet, were we at Capraja, we should find the drama of life, with its vicissitudes and passions, going on as in the largest cities. Human life is everywhere the same, and mankind LA MADDELENA. 459 everywhere reproduces its characteristics, only on a different stage, and in a more or less dramatic form. In the afternoon we came-to outside the port of Bastia, and I had the pleasure of welcoming a boatload of pre- viously apprized Corsican friends. Their warm greeting made me regret that I could not remain on the hospitable shores of their lovely island. As soon, however, as we had delivered and received our letters and passengers, we again started, this time for Sardinia. The steamers run along the eastern shore of Corsica all the way to the Straits, so that I spent the evening, until nightfall, gazing on the well-remembered mountains and coast line. The moon rose early, shedding its radiance over the tremulous sea, and reminding me of Virgil's charming hemistich : ". . . splendet tremulo sub lumine pontus." The night was peaceful, and when we reached the deck the next morning at six o'clock, the steamer was lying in front off the town and island of La Maddelena. The rocky island of Maddelena is one of an intricate Archipelago of small islands which occupy the eastern extremity of the Straits of Bonifacio, half way between Corsica and Sardinia. It has a good port, and is so sheltered by the other islands that we appeared to be in a lake, surrounded by rocks and mountains. This position gives a most picturesque appearance to the little town, which is built on a gentle slope rising from the sea. The patch of small, one or two-storied houses, and the humble church, nestling on the sea-shore, with a background of grey rocky mountains in close proximity, had a charming effect, enhanced by the sunshine and the freshness of an early morn in a southern region. We unloaded lots of stores into the barks that put off from the shore, iron bedsteads, iron railings, furniture, groceries, some large mirrors, kegs of spirits, and many other evidences of modern civilization. Little Maddelena, owing to its central position, is a kind of thriving commercial emporium for these parts, especially for Sardinia. Caprera occupied the horizon, and Garibaldi's white house was quite visible. Once more under weigh we soon emerged from our marine u lake " into the wider and more open part of the SARDINIA par Erhard . i2.r .Duguay-TYoum . Par 460 SARDINIA. Straits, passing a little rocky islet on which, was a large iron cross to commemorate the loss of the French transport, the Semillante, in 1856. It was on this rock that it struck on a stormy winter's night. As I have elsewhere stated not a soul was saved out of 2500 on board ! Our captain, an experienced talkative old Genoese sailor, who had been forty years at sea, said the vessel was lost owing to the inexperience of the captain. He was considered to be a good and experienced officer, but had never been in the Straits of Bonifacio before, and as there are no pilots he had to navigate his vessel by charts, and that in a stormy dark winter's night through islands, rocks, and shoals, calculated to try the most experienced seaman ! My friend thought he could have carried the vessel safely through even on such a night, but then he had been in the Straits a thousand times, in all weathers, in all seasons, day and night. That very night he was at sea between Naples and Cagliari in a small steamer, and was all but lost although in open water ; he only saved his vessel by dint of seamanship. The French captain ought never to have ventured the passage in such weather. There was shelter within reach on the Sardinian shore, but, being ignorant of the locality, and clearly unaware of the fact, he continued his course, and thus sacrificed his own life and those of 2500 men ! On passing out of the straits we had Corsica to the north, the open sea to the west, and the Gulf of Asinara to the south-west. Our course was directed to the south- western extremity of the latter, its most sheltered region, and at one o'clock we reached Porto Torres. Our entrance into the small harbour was for some time impeded by a large French transport, which was embarking Sardinian ponies. This pleasing occupation was continued with the utmost calmness, just as if we had not been waiting, and we had the pleasure of seeing many young ponies dangling in the air, in a state of great terror and agony of mind, and also of witnessing an attack of southern indignation with which our really amiable captain was seized. His eyes literally flashed fire, his hair all but stood on end, and he all but foamed at the mouth with indignation. Nor Physical geography of Sardinia. 461 was lie silent ; on the contrary, he gave vent to a torrent of objurgation and vituperation, which proved to us a first rate lesson in Italian. At last the obstacle to our entrance was overcome and we entered. Thus ended our voyage from Leghorn to Sardinia through the much dreaded Straits of Bonifacio, which, owing to the fine weather, proved a mere pleasure cruise. I have now on three different occasions passed through them and always in calm weather, so that it requires on my part an effort of imagination to think of these Straits as storm and wave tossed, lashed into fury by the hurricane, and as the grave of many noble ships — of many thousands of hardy mariners. PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY OP SARDINIA. Sardinia is an island 147 miles long, between latitude 38° and 41°, and 70 wide in its broadest part. It is in nine-tenths of its extent a mountainous region, but the mountains do not rise so high as those of Corsica. The mountains in the northern and western region are mostly granitic. When not of this formation they are principally palaeozoic, often schistic, with basalt cropping out, or with calcareous formations lying on the schists. It is prin- cipally at this point of contact that minerals, lead and zinc, are discovered. Between Porto Torres and Sassari there is a lime formation, mixed with white sand, so that the vegetation of lime soils is rife ; but in a considerable portion of the island the soil is exclusively granitic or schistic, and in these regions the vegetation assumes the characteristics of such soils. The mountains of Sardinia occupy the eastern and western regions of the island ; the centre is constituted by a series of plains, running from north to south, elevated in the northern half, low and marshy in the lower or southern half. They are called campidani. Through the kind of shaft thus formed by the mountains, running north and south on each side, and the plains in the middle, the north- west and the north-east winds rush down without obstacle of any kind, and arrive at Cagliari, in the south, still as cold winds in the winter months. Thus are impressed 462 SARDINIA. upon these plains, and even upon Cagliari itself, the charac- teristics of a winter climate much colder than that of the western Genoese Riviera, as evidenced by vegetation. Such is the result of the want of protection from north winds even in the south of the Mediterranean, three degrees further south than the Riviera. The mountains on the east and west appeared to me, as far as I saw them, to have been thrown up in great con- fusion, forming elevated valleys and mountain summits running in all directions. I did not see the regular high ridges or spurs descending regularly to the sea, from east to west, as in western Corsica, and enclosing protected valleys. Some of the eastern mountains attain a considerable eleva- tion. Thus M. Gennargentu is 6293 feet above the sea. Thus the vegetation of the mountains and valleys on the south-eastern side of the island, about Iglesias, where I examined them, presents a southern vegetation, it is true, but not a vegetation indicating exceptional winter warmth, as on the western Genoese Riviera — rather the reverse. POEtO TOftBES — SASSAEJ. Porto Torres is merely composed of a few small houses, wineshops, and warehouses. Owing to the proximity of soft water marshes and lakes formed by the partial closure of the mouth of a small river, Porto Torres is a prey to malaria, and so unhealthy during the summer and autumn that no one remains who can possibly get away. The Great Sardinian Railway, which will soon pass through the entire length of the island down to Cagliari, begins here, and has been open several years. Its existence has tended still more to depopulate Porto Torres, as both passengers and goods are now easily transferred to Sassari, eleven miles distant. The presence of a railway, with comfortable first-class carriages, throws such a halo of civilization over any place that it is impossible to think one's self in a barbarous or even out-of-the-way country where it exists. The impres- sion produced on me and on my travelling companion — for this time I had one, a nephew — -was, therefore, favourable ; POETO TORRES— SASSARI. 463 and we arrived at Sassari in a very jubilant, contented frame of mind. Sassari, the capital of northern Sardinia, has a popula- tion of 32,000. It is situated at an elevation of 650 feet above the sea, which removes it from the pernicious influence of the marshes near the shore, and is built on the slope of a very steep hill. This hill, indeed, is so steep that it is a perfect toil to ascend from the lower to the upper part of the town, through the principal street. This we did on leaving the railway-station, and found tolerable accommodation at the Albergo d'ltalia. Most of the inns in unfrequented Italian towns only occupy one or two storeys in one of the ordinary houses, and this was no exception to the rule. However, we did not starve either here or anywhere else in Sardinia. What with good wine, good bread, and fresh eggs ad libitum — everywhere to be found in southern Europe — and with such fish, meat, or game as the traveller chances to get, no one need suffer from famine in the most unfrequented regions. Fleas at night are, no doubt, a trouble — a grievous one, and if allowed to have their way, would sorely mar the plea- sure and health-benefit of travelling with all whom they attack ; but a few bottles of Persian powder, orPoudre In- secticide, afford the means of offering battle, and what is more, of conquering. I had a letter of introduction to Signor Crispo, the leading physician at Sassari, and a retired Professor of the University. Under his guidance, and with his friendly assistance, I saw all that there was to be seen at Sassari in a couple of days — a new hospital, with large airy wards; a new prison, on the solitary Pentonville plan, which has cost 40,000^., and appeared to me sadly unsuited to the uncultivated minds of the half wild Sards; the University, with its lecture-rooms, library, and museum ; the Barracks ; the Italian Opera House ; and the public garden. There are many good shops at Sassari, and it is evidently the centre of an extensive district and of a large area of population, the wants of which it supplies. Its own popu- lation of 32,000, however, is composed, in a great measure, of agricultural labourers, who number 22,000, a fact which 464 SARDINIA. illustrates a very singular social condition in Sardinia. They cultivate the surrounding country for many miles distant, walking or riding little wiry Sard horses, according to their means. This state of things is a feature through- out Sardinia. The entire population lives still in the few towns or large villages, the labourers losing a great part of their time and strength, morning and evening, in going to and from their work. There are no farm homesteads, and scarcely any small villages, even in the more fertile and more populated parts of the country. Many reasons are given for this state of things by the Sards themselves. Firstly, the insecurity of the country, until quite recently, owing to brigandage. Secondly, the fear of malaria, the towns and large villages being gene- rally built in regions considered free from malaria, and being considered healthier as towns than the country, which is generally feared as malarious. The peasants fly to the towns at night, under the impression that it is unwhole- some to sleep anywhere in the country. Thirdly, the strongly felt and expressed desire of the women to live together, with their relatives and friends, with whom they can gossip and talk all day. They are said to refuse positively to live isolated in the country, in a farmhouse for instance. The consequences are most disastrous in a social point of view. Although wages are not very high nominally, about two francs — Is. Sd. a day- — say 10s. a week, what with the journey to and from work, and a two hours' "siesta" in the middle of the day — the custom of the country — only five or six hours' lazy work is got out of a labourer. This, I was told, makes all agricultural operations ruinously ex- pensive. Then the children, brought up in towns, without milk, if the debilitated mother cannot give it, die like flies in autumn ; I was told that not two out of ten are reared. Two years ago there was an epidemic of diphtheria in Cagliari, and 800 of these half-fed or badly-fed children died of the disease in a population of 30,000. In August, 1855, there was cholera in Sassari, which then had a popu- lation of 22,000, and one-third, or about 7000, died ! SASS ARI — OSILIO. 465 Such is the result of cooping up an agricultural popula- tion in towns and large villages, without milk-producing animals for the children to feed on. During the first year of a child's life its very existence depends on its obtaining milk from some source or other. Thus is partly explained, also, the depressed state of agriculture and the falling off of the population of Sardinia, everywhere observed and lamented. On April 22, on a beautiful clear, sunny, but cool day, I made an excursion from Sassari, itself elevated 650 feet above the sea, to Osilio, a small town 1200 feet high, about ten miles distant. In the immediate vicinity of the town we passed through a wood of large Olive trees, which are generally found on the sides of limestone hills, on rising ground, and disappear when the soil becomes granitic or basaltic. Along with them were Almond and Peach trees in full leaf, fruit large, ten days or more in advance of Tuscany ; Broad Beans ripening, Pear trees in full flower and leaf, corn three inches high, Corn Poppies, Garlic, Dandelion, small Euphorbias in flower, Flax in flower, Bugloss, Pellitory, a small Marigold, a small red Geranium which in places covered the ground, Groundsel, Plantain, Oxalis, Mustard in flower, Mallows, Ivy (vigorous, covering walls), the large variegated southern Thistle, Chrysanthemum segetum (very abundant), Black- berry (vigorous), and large hedges of Opuntia or the Prickly Pear. As we progressed we got out of the lime soil into basalt, and the vegetation changed. The Ivy, Olives, and fruit trees disappeared, and were replaced by the Stone Pine, the Maritime Pine, Asphodel, Ferula, Pteris aquilina, Oaks without leaves ; Elms, first leaves only showing ; Oats in flower under cultivation. On the whole without mountain protection, exposed to north winds, the ground vegetation appeared to me about ten days in advance of Spezzia, owing to the greater power of the sun in a locality two degrees more south. Every year, in whatever region of the Mediterranean I happen to be, I notice the remarkable iact that the surface vegetation is much in advance as compared with H H 466 SARDINIA. the tree vegetation — that of the deeper soil. Thus flowers are often six weeks, or even two months, in advance of our own country, whilst trees are seldom more than three weeks, and that quite in the South Mediterranean regions. The explanation is no doubt that in early spring the power of the sun, much greater in the south than in the north, warms the surface of the soil so as to induce rapid surface vegetation, long before the deeper soil, where the roots of trees lie, can be warmed enough to start them into life and growth. The tree vegetation showed no difference as compared with the mainland one or two degrees more north ; and I did not see a trace of Orange or Lemon trees. The summer heat at Sassari is clearly more than enough for their welfare, as shown by the luxuriance of the Opuntia or prickly Pear hedges, but owing to the want of mountain protection from east to west, to cut off the north winds, the winter cold proves too much for them. There is a sheltered valley behind the town, in which the Olive trees are very large, and in which Orange trees grow to a respect- able size, and ripen their fruit. In this latitude they will do so anywhere, if protected from the north wind. The Sassari people, however, did not appear to rely on their own oranges • all on sale were stated to come from Milis, near Oristano, one hundred miles south-west. The public garden at Sassari is very badly kept, full of weeds. I went over it carefully, but found no evidence of exceptional winter mildness of temperature ; rather the reverse. There were Elm and Robinia Pseud- Acacia just coming into leaf, Laurustinus still in flower, also Judas tree and Lilac ; Jasminum revolutum not in flower, hybrid Roses only just beginning to form buds, a few white Bengal Roses in a sheltered spot, Pinks not in flower ; Broom and garden Poppies the same. The only flowers were single Stocks, Iris, Medicago, Wall-flowers. In my garden at Mentone on April 1 (twelve days before), all mentioned in the above list as in flower, were going out of flower, and all mentioned as not in flower, were in flower, and yet Sassari is 200 miles more south. But then my garden is protected in winter from north winds by mountains running east and S ASSAM TO ORISTANO. 467 west, and Sassari is not. In this public garden there were two miserable Palms, with a few terminal leases only, to which my cicerone, a native gentleman, pointed with pride; they were merely struggling for existence. On the other hand the Aloes and Yuccas were very fine— indicating, as did the Opuntia hedges, intense summer heat. From Sassari, in the north of Sardinia, to Cagliari in the south, a very good road has been recently made by the Government, at an expense of 157,000/. In two years the two capitals of Sardinia will be connected by a railroad, now in course of construction. At present the line is only finished and opened from Cagliari to Oristano in the south- west, and from Cagliari to Iglesias. Fifty miles more, due south from Sassari, are to be opened this summer. The communication is at present kept up by a small diligence, which leaves Sassari at 6 p.m., and reaches Oristano at 2 p.m. the next day — a very fatiguing journey. I adopted it, however, instead of taking a carriage and stopping on the way, much to my regret, as the road was said not to be quite safe. In proof of which we had two mounted carabi- neers in front of us all night, riding gravely in the moon- light. The sight of these troopers every time we looked out of the coupe window gave us a delightful sense of insecurity, bringing, as it did to our recollection, all the stories of brigands ever read. At Sassari I was told that there was really no danger, but that this precaution was taken merely because some months before a sum of gold sent by the diligence had been waylaid and seized. It appears, also, that the Sardinian brigands have not as yet attained the degree of refinement and mental cultivation which leads their Italian brethren to wage war on society as potentates, making prisoners and asking ransom ! I was informed that, if by any evil chance, anywhere in Sardinia, we did fall upon brigands, we were not to resist, but to meekly submit and to give them what we had on us, with which they would be completely satisfied. The warlike, fighting traditions of the past appear to have a greater hold over the popular mind and habits in the north of Sardinia than in the south. In the north nearly all the gentlemen and peasants we met out of Sassari H H 2 4 08 SARDINIA. had a loaded gun slung over their shoulder, or in their hands, whether riding or walking ; as if every man still moved about with his life in his hands, ready to defend it against his neighbour. This custom, combined with the very peculiar costume of the peasants, gives an exceptionally defiant warlike look to the country. In the more southern regions, at Oristano and Cagliari, nothing of the kind was to be seen, the entire population was unarmed. Perhaps the existence of the railroad and the freedom of intercourse it has established accounts for the difference. As I have stated the costume of the peasants is peculiar, that of the men rather sombre but picturesque, that of the women less so. In the towns the men dress as on the continent, but in the country they preserve the national costume. It varies in different localities, but may be said generally to consist in a double-breasted leather or cloth waistcoat buttoned up to the throat, a kind of black kilt descending to the knee over loose linen or woollen drawers, and leather leggings ; the hair is worn long and loose, or gathered up in a net. The women indulge more in colour. Over their head on gala days they wear a yellow cloth with red border, or collect their hair in a net like the men. Some wear scarlet stockings and ornamented bodices or embroidered jackets thrown over a low corset. The petticoat is made full with small plaits, and the sleeves are divided in the Greek fashion. The coarse black cloth with which the men's clothes are principally made, is woven at home from sheep's wool. In the villages the houses are all of one story, even those of the better classes, and they are generally built of stone. I went over several houses at Osilio with my friend Professor Crispo, a native of the district, inhabited by his relatives and dependents, and noticed the evidence of a primitive style of life. Evidently most of the inhabitants of Osilio, such at least as were owners of land and cattle, were all but independent of the outer world. In one corner of their habitation was an old-fashioned hand loom with which they wove their cloth. In another corner was a heap of corn or maize, enclosed in immense baskets, or screens of matted cane, the year's " bread supply." What M ACOMER — NUR-H AGS. 469 with wine, oil, corn, figs and fruit to eat, woollen cloth of their own making, and mutton of their own feedings they were really all but independent of the outer world; and this no doubt is the social state of the mountain peasants throughout Sardinia. For the first seventy miles of the road from Sassari to Oristano we were on high schistic plains, surrounded by a stunted vegetation consistent with such a soil and elevation. Asphodel, Ferula, Pteris aquilina a foot high, Cork and Ilex trees, Lentiscus, Cytisus, Cistus the rock Rose, not in flower, prickly Broom, Hawthorn, as in England in full flower, Blackberry, Mediterranean Heath, Arbutus. All these pknts constitute the beautiful maquis of Corsica, but they were growing here sparsely, never presenting the luxuriant growth of that island. Here and there were patches of corn, Oats, Flax, with a few fruit trees — Olive, Pear, Fig — near two or three large villages which we passed and where we changed horses. The road then ascends to a height of 2145 feet, reaching the plain of Campedclu which separates the waterflow of the island. On the north side of this plain water flows north, to the Gulf of Asinara, whilst on the south side it flows south, to the river Tirse. On the south margin of this plain we find the village of Macomer, 20 00 inhabi- tants, where the road begins to descend. In the vicinity of Macomer we saw, near the road, several of the sepulchral monuments called nur-hags, for which Sardinia is cele- brated. They are supposed to be sepulchral monuments built by the Phoenicians, and although they are constantly being destroyed for building materials they are still very numerous ; more than three thousand still exist. They are built of unwrought stones of colossal dimensions, arranged horizontally, present chambers internally, a small low opening externally, and are from thirty to sixty feet high, and from thirty-five to a hundred feet in diameter at the base. They are assimilated by antiquaries to the ancient towers of Orkney and Shetland, and to the round towers of Ireland, and are only met with in Sardinia and the Balearic Islands. Gradually a plain is reached nearly on the level of the 470 SARDINIA. sea, at first dry, then marshy, and after 15 miles we come to Oristano. Formerly a town of considerable importance, it is now decayed — owing principally to extreme un- healthiness, from its being surrounded by soft water or by brackish ponds and marshes. The soil of this marshy alluvial plain is good, and a con- siderable portion of it is cultivated with corn, Beans, and Flax, or pastured. I was told that the ground in Sardinia is never manured at all, but that in this region its natural fertility is such that it bears every year, or that one year's fallow every three is sufficient to enable it to bear abundantly — one year corn, the next Beans, Peas, Vetches, or Flax. The most interesting feature in this plain is the singularly luxuriant hedges of Opuntia or prickly Pear, which remind us of what we read of in Mexico, and give a peculiarly southern character to the landscape. The roads, lanes, and properties are lined with hedges of this Opuntia, from eight to fifteen feet high, and from six to ten feet wide. They thus present an impene- trable fence to cattle and man, and give a very tropical look to the country. Inside these grotesque prickly fences grow many wild plants, especially a Clematis and our old friend the Blackberry, who, flourishing in the alluvial soil, more than holds his own. He entwines himself between the prickly branches in every direction, and at times seems to all but smother his southern friend. Otherwise there is no trace near Oristano of subtropical winter vegetation, and spring was no more advanced on April 26th than at Sassari on the 22nd. Evidently the cold winds rush down from the north in winter over the high plains and lower its temperature — like that of Sassari — below that of the Genoese Riviera, or of the mountain- sheltered east coast of Spain. The town of Oristano begins a few hundred yards beyond a bridge which crosses a good sized river, the Tirse, the largest I saw in Sardinia, and the origin of the lagoons and marshes, which render Oristano so unhealthy. In its struggles to reach the sea, to get over or round the bar which the winter storms form at its mouth, it overflows the entire country, and forms ponds and lakes near the shore. ORISTANO — THE MILIS ORANGE GROYES. 471 The town is formed by a number of streets grouped round the old cathedral — a really fine monumental edifice. In the immediate vicinity of the cathedral there are some good houses inhabited by some of the old Sardinian nobility and gentry during the winter and spring. In summer and autumn all who can, fly from the malaria and spend these seasons in the higher mountain regions, in a very rough manner. Oristano, however, appears to be rising in pros- perity, for there were several new streets, and new houses all small. The railroad, no doubt, has had a deal to do with this change. In former days it was a large, populous, wealthy, and important city; probably the surrounding country was then better drained, and the exit of the river into the sea more cared for. There was some fete when we arrived, and the only " Albergo" was already full. But we had, fortunately, a letter of introduction to the Mayor of the town, a very amiable old retired Sardinian Colonel. He kindly took us under his wing, and secured us rooms over a cafe, just opposite the Opera, for the Oristanians have just built and opened a very pretty little opera-house, with a very tolerable Company ! They were performing all the leading Operas of the day, very respectably it was said. At Sassari, the Prima Donna, whom I went to hear, was a young English lady, with a really good and fine voice, and all the City was most enthusiastic about her. These remote Italian towns must be very good schools for an enthu- siastic votary of the art, such as this young lady clearly showed herself. In the smallest she is certain to meet with a sympathetic, musically-cultivated audience. Although there was no evidence of winter warmth at, or immediately around, Oristano, an excursion to the Orange groves of Milis showed me that all that was wanting was protection from the north. Milis is situated at the foot of a mountain spur, running east and west, about twelve miles north-west of Oristano, and looks due south. This Orange wood or orchard, two miles in length by half a mile in width, has been celebrated for ages, and supplies all Sardinia with Oranges. It belongs principally to the Marquis of Boyle, a Sardinian nobleman. A never- 472 SARDINIA. failing rivulet of mountain water runs through, and enables the cultivators to put the entire orchard under water every fortnight during the summer. If an Orange tree is to produce good fruit it must be watered thoroughly during summer at least twice a month. Thus these trees have the all- important shelter from the north in winter, water and intense heat in summer. I spent a day in this Orange grove, and examined it very carefully. The trees are planted very near to each other, only eight or ten feet from stem to stem ; they are mostly old trees, a hundred years or more, judging from the diameter of the bole low down — one, two, and even three feet. They are not beautiful trees like those at Milianah in Algeria, for they are generally allowed to divide into two or three branches, two or three feet from the ground. These large branches run up fifteen to twenty feet, and form a canopy of fruit-bearing branchlets, which unite with those of the surrounding trees, and form a complete shade on the ground ; indeed moss was growing on it in many places. The impression on the beholder is, that the trees are too numerous ; but I was told that the experience of centuries has proved that this is the best plan to grow them, in order to keep the ground cool and moist during the fierce glare of the summer's sun. No manure is ever given, only water ; the soil is a deep alluvial one, and the situation is ten miles from the sea. The head cultivator told me that the Orange trees raised from seed were peculiarly liable to die, just as they had become good bearing trees, of a disease he called secco. The small branches at first, and then the larger ones, dry up and wither, and in a few years the entire tree dies. He showed me among scores of trees intermingled those that were dying without the trace of grafting, whereas those that bore the trace of the graft near them were sound and healthy. Now, he said, he never planted other than grafted trees. I ate a number of the Oranges gathered here, and found them very good. The Orange tree is a tropical tree, and finds here in summer the tropical heat that suits its constitution, whilst ORISTANO TO IGLESIAS. 473 (lie mountains behind shelter it from the north winds, which prevent its growing in most regions of Sar- dinia. In the very midst of this Orange grove I found a few Lemon trees in full bearing; they were the only Lemon trees I saw in Sardinia. On the Riviera, from Nice to St. Remo, they are, as we have seen, the principal agricultural product. Oristauo exhausted, we took the railway to Iglesias, a town in the south-western extremity of the island, the principal centre of the mining interests. Iglesias is reached by a branch, which leaves the main line between Oristano and Cagliari, at about an hour's distance from the latter city. Thus we descended, along the level marshy plain, which separates the two cities, to within twenty miles of Cagliari, and then leaving it, ascended into the mountain region. The main line runs nearly at a dead level, ap- parently only a few feet above the sea, and the watershed of the mountains on each side falling into this plain, with- out being able to find an exit, gives rise to extensive marshes. No doubt within comparatively recent geological times this plain was below the sea-level, and then the south-western part of Sardinia must have been an island. Notwithstanding the marshy, unhealthy character of the plain, it was evidently a property owned by some one, and vigorous attempts at cultivation were being made wherever the slightest elevation appeared to make drainage feasible. There were also, here and there, droves of ponies and of other cattle. The malarious season had not yet arrived (April 25th), and the inhabitants of the sparse villages had not yet retreated to the mountains. Crowds of picturesque people got in and out at every station, and appeared much to enjoy the still novel mode of locomotion. Soon after leaving the main line a gentle rise commences, ponds and marshes cease to show themselves on each side, and dry land appears. Simultaneously villages are seen, and around them the southern evidences of fertility in the shape of Olive, Almond, Peach, and Pear trees, of Vines and of cereal cultivation. The natives were invariably dressed in sheepskin vests, with the national black woollen 474 SARDINIA. petticoat, or skirt, and leggings. They were evidently clothed for cold not for warm weather, and in woollen gar- ments calculated to protect them from chills. The gradually increasing extent of cultivation showed that we were approaching a centre of civilization and prosperity, a fact which became evident when we reached Iglesias. This little town, situated on the south-eastern slope of a mountain spur five hundred feet above the sea- level, is the capital of the mining works of this part of Sardinia. The district is rich in minerals, principally carbonate of zinc or calamine, and lead containing silver. Within the last ten years scores of mines have been opened by Italian, French, and English companies, in this the south-western angle of Sardinia, comprised between Oris- tano, Iglesias, Cagliari and the sea, the richest mineral region of the island, whilst many more have been con- ceded and will soon be opened. Several of these companies employ from five to twelve hundred workmen, and are making very good returns. The zinc and lead lie generally at the point of contact of a calcareous rock which overlies the silurian schists of which the mountains are formed. Thus, in most instances, the mineral is easily reached, merely by driving galleries in the flanks of the mountains. The ancient Romans were aware of the mineral riches of this part of Sardinia, and traces of their workings are found in many localities both in this and in other parts of the island. The zinc and lead deposits are not confined to the Iglesias region, they are found in nearly all the mountains. There are many mines now at work in the northern and western ranges. As the entire mining population centres at Iglesias, from whence all their wants are supplied, and from whence the new roads made and making depart, large sums of money are poured into it, and on every side there is the evidence of material prosperity and well doing, numerous shops and new houses, and a well fed and healthy population. Igle- sias is all but out of reach of malaria, and moreover we were just at the end of winter, evidently bracing enough and cold enough to bring: roses to the cheeks of the children and of the women. There was a freedom and ease about the IGLESIAS — FRIENDS — THE MINES. 475 latter which, argued constant communion with the world. In the northern villages and small towns the women con- stantly draw their veils over the lower part of their face, concealing their mouth as in the East. Here nothing of the kind was seen; they walked about with as little shyness, and with as much self-possession as the men. We found a tolerably decent inn of the usual Italian kind, but I had brought a letter of introduction from a mutual friend to an English gentleman, the head of several of the mines, and he kindly insisted on our taking up our quarters with him. Once installed in his hospitable house we were as comfortable as we should have been in our own home, and greatly enjoyed the change. My new friend had been apprised of our advent, and had organized an expedition into the mountains, to visit the mines under his management, to which we assented with joy. As there are no roads, only horse tracks, and as but scanty supplies are to be found at the end of each day's march, due preparation had to be made. Whilst my kind host was thus preparing for our comfort I employed the interval in exploring the town and its vicinity. Iglesias must have been a place of some little importance in former days, commanding the plains on the one hand, and the mountain region, of which it was the key, on the other. There are still extant the ruins of a large and powerful fortress built on the most elevated point, which overlooked the town and its approaches. Formerly there were no roads whatever into the mountains, merely horse tracks, now many good ones have been made, or are being made by the companies that are working the mines, and by other companies that have bought forests, and all radiate from Iglesias. The immediate vicinity is very fresh, green, and fertile, presenting many orchards of fruit trees — Olives, Almonds, Peach, Pear, and Vines, and a few small Orange trees in sheltered nooks. There are many pretty country walks in the vicinity, rendered very quaint and foreign by the hedges of Prickly Pear. A walk that I took, on a beautiful mild evening, along a footpath six feet wide, winding up the side of a hill on a gentle slope, presented 476 SARDINIA. one of the loveliest scenes I ever witnesssd. The Opuntia hedge was from six to eight feet high, and above six feet broad at its base. Growing with wild luxuriance amongst the ramifications of the Prickly Pear, twining round them in every sense, filling every vacant space, every corner, in luxuriant profusion of growth and blossom, were the wild creepers and flowers of the district, amongst which I marked the following : — Vinca major, Clematis, Smilax, a Bryony, Honeysuckle, Convolvulus, coloured Peas, Aspa- ragus, Borage, Hemlock, Fumitory, Euphorbia, Mustard, wild Mignonette, Oats in flower, Marigold, a Globularia, Poppies, yellow Corn-flower, variegated Thistle, Pellitory, Woodruff, and Chickweed. There was not a sprig of Ivy, the soil being entirely schistic, without lime. The comparison of the date, April 26, the epoch of perfect flowering of the above plants in southern Sardinia, with their date of flower- ing in England or elsewhere, will give a very correct idea of the difference of the spring climate in the different localities. The start for the mountains was made April the 27th, after breakfast. We had about fifteen miles to ride on Sardinian ponies to reach our destination, the lead mine of Aqua Rese. The road, a mere rough stony track, carried us over the last slopes of the higher mountains, through a district denuded of trees, but covered with the usual Mediterranean brushwood of schistic and siliceous soils. I was told that my wiry little Sard horse was as mild as a lamb, provided he was not allowed to approach any other horse. In the latter case I was to be cautious, as he nourished a deadly hatred to his species, was apt to rear, to fly at them like a bulldog, to fasten on them with his teeth, and to do his victim great injury ! As I had seen this process performed on a memorable occasion in Corsica, I was not particularly anxious that my pony should repeat it whilst I was on his back, so I kept at first at a most respectful distance from my companions. Finding him, however, thoroughly tractable to the hand, I gradually gained courage, and became filled with admiration for his good points. He really proved with me as gentle and tractable as a lamb ; and, moreover, so sure footed, so strong of limb, that we ascended precipices like the side of THE MINES — AQUA HESE. 477 a house, descended slopes ail but perpendicular, and crawled up and down among stones and rocks many feet in height; indeed, he behaved like a cat on a house top, with me on his back. One gets accustomed to everything, and although at first rather nervous and alarmed, long before the day was over I was as self-possessed as a tight rope dancer. We were received at the mine of Aqua Rese by the director, a German engineer, who spoke English like a native. He made us thoroughly comfortable and at home in his little house, built on a terrace on the mountain side, near the works. This terrace overlooks a picturesque wind- ing valley, which ends on the sea shore about nine miles distant. The owners of the mine have made a good carriage road through this valley by means of which the metal is taken to the western sea for shipment. After dinner we examined the mine, which is very interesting. These mines are generally worked, as already stated, by gaieties ex- cavated from the mountain sides, the communication between different galeries being sometimes established by shafts. I found our host a very scientific well-informed man, full of mining lore, indeed, saturated with it. He was a scientific chemist and geologist, but all his knowledge on these subjects seemed to take instinctively the direction of mining and metallurgy. He had practically studied mining in many parts of the world, on the continent, in Asia, in Batavia. Study, he said, was the great solace of his solitary life, for he was all but alone for eight months of the year, surrounded by an ignorant and lawless mob of workmen. There were many hundred men under his charge, and as the mining pay was good, it attracted not only Sards but thousands from the continent ; some of them were honest and true, but many were the scum of the continental cities, which they had made too hot for them. The only way to secure discipline was to exact implicit obedi- ence, and to dismiss instantly those who resisted. Sometimes he had to dismiss twenty or more at an hour's notice, regard- less of their black looks and of their muttered threats. In his room our host had quite an armoury of guns and revolvers, ready for emergencies, he laughingly remarked. 478 SARDINIA. In working the mines, contracts are entered into with sub- men at so much the solid metre, the price depending on the facility or difficulty of extraction, and on the quality of the ore. These sub-men engage the workers and divide the receipts with them according to certain rates. During the malaria months, from June to October, the mines in Sar- dinia are all but closed, and nearly all the officials have a holiday, withdrawing to the mainland for safety. The next morning we again started after breakfast for another mine, Pala Guttura, about sixteen miles distant, in the midst of the higher mountains. Our track at first again took us over a purely schistic formation, and the vegetation was the same as the day previous. The scenery was very like that of the highlands of Scotland, only instead of Heather we had the Corsican maquis, Lentiscus, Cytisus, Asphodel, Ferula, Arbutus, Mediterranean Heath, and in moist localities purple Cyclamen. Then appeared Myrtle, Clematis, Smilax, and Ivy, also wild Pear-trees sown by birds, showing that lime was beginning to mingle with the schistic soil; as it became more and more a component, these plants increased in luxuriance of development. We were constantly climbing alongside and over moun- tains 1000 or 1500 feet high, or descending into valleys nearly as deep. In the early part of the day these moun- tains were all but denuded of timber, which had been ruth- lessly cut down, for there were thousands of large stumps dotting the mountain side. It appears that ten years ago a Leghorn merchant bought many square miles of mountain forest from the Government for 14,000/., to be paid by instalments. He then made a contract for charcoal with the Spanish Government, and with the money thence received paid his instalments as they fell due, gaining a million of francs (40,000/.) on the transaction. His energy is to be admired, but he ought never to have been allowed to denude the mountains entirely of timber without re- planting. My companions assured me that the soil, no longer retained in place by the roots of the trees, and protected by their leaves, will, all but to a certainty in this climate, be carried away by the torrential rains of winter. In that case the mountains will become denuded and sterile for A SARDINIAN VIRGIN FOREST. 479 ever, as is the case with so many mountain summits in the south, formerly covered with forests, now mere bare rocks. On leaving the territory of this forest Vandal we entered a region where the trees had not as yet felt the axe, and soon found ourselves in the midst of the most beautiful mountain and forest scenery I have anywhere beheld. The principal trees were the Ilex, or evergreen Oak, and they were the finest I have seen in the south of Europe. Many were as large and as fine, if not larger and finer, than any English Oaks I ever met with in a nobleman's park. In their efforts to get to the light, from the mountain sides and valleys, they had often twisted themselves into the most fantastic shapes. In one deep and magnificent gorge the luxuriance of vegetation was greater than anything I had witnessed before in any land, and recalled to my mind the descriptions I have read of virgin tropical forests. The wild Vines, Ivies, Clematises, Honeysuckles, Blackberries, Sarsaparillas, instead of being simply creepers, had become lianes — -ropes ; they ascended into trees forty or fifty feet high or more, twining round their stems. It was perfectly delightful to me to see our Blackberry quite equal to the occasion, and climbing as energetically, as vigorously as any, the wild Vines excepted, for I could not but look upon him as a countryman, even in a virgin forest in Sardinia. Ivy, Myrtle, Cytisus, Ferns, Polypodium vulgare, Filix-mas, Asplenium Adiantum-nigrum, crept out of every crevice of the limestone rock, and waved their fronds in the air, whilst the beautiful purple blossom of the Cyclamen covered the ground as Daisies do in the north. These valleys must be very moist for many months of the year, for the trunks and the branches of many of the trees were covered with moss, and in this moss was growing abun- dantly Polypodium vulgare. In the centre of this wild lovely valley was an abundant brawling stream of pure mountain water, leaping over the stones, as in Ross-shire ; only the water was not peat stained, for peat and Heather were entirely absent. In all parts of this wild valley I found growing freely Asplenium Adiantum-nigrum, Pteris aquilina, Asplenium Trichomanes, as also a large white 480 SARDINIA. Amaryllis. The Ivy was often so luxuriant in its growth that it covered the sides of high cliffs. Pala Guttura, where we arrived in due course in time for dinner, reproduced Aqua Rese, only under still more picturesque and fascinating conditions of mountain scenery. The galleries leading to the mine — one of carbonate of zinc — are also in the flanks of the mountain, and the direc- tor's house is also on a terrace adjoining. I can but com- pare it to a shooting lodge in a remote corner of the Highlands of Scotland. Within a few yards a very abun- dant spring of pure cool water issues from the mountain, and rushes down a deep ravine which it has furrowed, in the midst of a thicket of verdure which it has created. This spring is a great boon to the locality, as good water is very scarce over the greater part of Sardinia, owing, no doubt, to the porous schistic character of the soil. At this mine the sub-director was a handsome young Italian, son of a Venetian nobleman. Instead of living in idleness he had put his shoulder to the wheel, a good sign for "Italia Unita." Whilst at Pala Guttura I learnt that a great part of the forest we had crossed in the day had recently been pur- chased from the Government by the proprietors of the mine, in order to make charcoal for their works. The sum paid, six or eight thousand pounds, for many thousand acres of forest-covered mountain land, some of which, situated in the valley, is arable, seems very small to us. It appears that a large portion of Sardinia belonged to the " communes" or parishes, and that recently the Govern- ment, for the public good, has expropriated them and taken possession of the lands, paying a nominal indemnity, founded on present value; these properties are being gradu- ally brought to market. There are sales every six months, and immense tracts are being sold at mere nominal rates. The minerals, however, do not go with the soil; the Government gives a mining licence to the first person who discovers a mine and applies for a licence, with a power to expropriate the owner of the land required for the works on payment of an indemnity. The following morning we returned to Iglesias by another route, through a mountain and forest district as beautiful SPOUT IN SARDINIA, CAGLIARI. 481 as the one previously traversed. A very enjoyable picnic amongst the rocks on the seashore marked the next day for ever with a white stone, and then we departed for Cagliari, after taking leave of our worthy host. Thanks to his kind reception of us we had an opportunity of seeing the wild virgin forest scenery of Sardinia, which could scarcely be reached except under such auspices. I saw no villages, no habitations wherever we went, and no population except that connected with the mines. There are villages, but I am told they contain no accommodation of any kind for strangers — nothing but the native huts. The lovely high- lands of Sardinia may, thus, be considered inaccessible, except under some such delightful auspice, to all except sportsmen accustomed and ready to sleep in sheds, barns, or in the open air. It is said that these mountain forests are full of wild boars, of deer, and of game in general. I heard of an English nobleman who came to Sardinia in a large steam yacht, anchored in the little ports, hunted all day, and always came back to his yacht to dine and sleep, a most comfortable and satisfactory plan for seeing and enjoying the wild beauties and the sport of Sardinia. Cagliari is rather a fine city, partly situated on a rock 300 feet above the sea, not as unhealthy as Oristano, although surrounded by ponds or lakes, but they are salt, and appear not to produce fever to any extent. Although 150 miles more south than Sassari, and only 150 miles from Africa, I found the vegetation no more tropical, no more advanced than at Sassari. A north-west wind was blowing all the time I was there, and it was very cool and pleasant. I was told that the winds in winter and spring generally blow from that direction, that is, down the central Sardinian plains from the north, and make the climate cool but rather damp. Whilst I was there, from the ] st to the 3rd of May, the temperature at night was below 60° Fahr., and in the day, in the shade, it did not rise above 68°; yet the sun was very hot, all but insupportably so. I was told that when the wind changed to the south, which it might do any day, the heat would be terrific, going up to 100° or 101° in July and August. I carefully examined the public garden, which is below I i 482 SARDINIA. the ramparts, in a very sheltered spot, as at Sassari, and found it principally planted with hardy or half hardy ever- green trees and shrubs, Ilex, Cork Oak, Enonymus japonica, Justicia, Box, Magnolia. There were also Schinus Mulli, Ailanthus, Populus alba, Cytisus, Acacia, Ficus elastica. There were a dozen small Orange trees, two or three feet high, in a sheltered corner, surrounded by a hedge of Euonymus, and half dead ; the extremities of the branches were quite dead. On looking from the ramparts on the town, I saw in some courtyards below me, surrounded by the houses and by walls fifteen or twenty feet high, some Orange trees, which looked very healthy and well. They evidently required protection of this kind — to be in a species of well — to resist the north winds that course through Central Sardinia in winter, even here, in the southern part of the Mediterranean, not much more than a hundred miles from the coast of Africa. Cagliari has all the aspect of a small capital. The town ascends from the shore to the upper part of a hill or rock three hundred feet high, which is surrounded by strong walls built by the Pisans. There is thus an upper, a middle, and a lower town. In the upper town there are : a fine cathedral, a citadel, a handsome university and museum, Government, archiepiscopal, and private palaces, and large, fine houses. The view from the citadel is magnificent; to the north the Campidani, or plains of Central Sardinia, east and west large salt water lakes, beyond them on each side fine mountains, to the south the open sea. The women are good looking, and Spanish in expression. The gala costumes of both men and women of the peasant class are picturesque; those of the latter are embroidered with satin and gold, and bedecked with jewels. Finally, Cagliari is lighted with gas and supplied with pure mountain water by an English company, which is paying a good interest to its spirited projectors. For more circumstantial details respecting Sardinia and the books written thereon, I would refer to Murray's Guide. My object in making this journey to Sardinia was to study its climate, as interpreted by the vegetation in spring, and I gained thereby the information of which I was in quest. Sardinia cannot be recommended to invalids, or WINDS, CLIMATE, VEGETATION. 483 indeed to any one, as a sheltered winter residence. The mountains run principally from north to south, not from east to west, and are not very high, so they give but little protection from north winds. Indeed, the high plains which occupy the centre of Sardinia in the north, and the low plains which occupy the centre in the south, with the mountain ranges on each side, offer a kind of bed to the north-east and north-west winds which course down the island, with violence, most of the winter. These winds are not only cool but damp, as they have passed over a tract of sea sufficiently extensive to moisten them without warming them. There may be nooks and corners in the island, at the south. base of mountains, with lateral protec- tion, east and west, where the winter passes in sunshine and shelter ; but they are unknown, and inaccessible even if they exist. To tourists, however, when the cold winds of winter are over, and before the heats of summer have commenced, that is, in the months of April and May, such a journey in Sardinia as I took is very enjoyable. They must, however, be able to put up with very inferior hotel accommodation, and ought to have introductions that will take them out of the beaten track, as was my case. Before long, when the railroad is completed from Porto Torres to Cagliari, the inns will, no doubt, improve, and Sardinia may become a high road to the southern Mediterranean. Cagliari is only sixteen hours by steamer from Tunis, twenty from Naples, and twenty- four from Palermo. In conclusion, I would add that a fortnight's careful in- vestigation of the vegetation of Sardinia in spring con- firmed the convictions formed after the examination and study of the other large islands of the Mediterranean — Corsica and Sicily. North-east and north-west winds in winter, from December to May, retain their full power in unprotected localities in the Mediterranean basin, even in its southern islands. When mountain protection and shelter give the sun fairplay, as at the Orange groves of Milis, the temperature is as mild as on the protected north Riviera shores, not milder, but the atmosphere is moister from insular position. I embarked at Cagliari on the 3rd of May for Tunis, on my way to the island of Malta. I I 2 CHAPTER XIV. MALTA. THE VOYAGE PROM TUNIS— MALTA — PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY— VALETTA— VEGETATION— THE INT ERIOR-— CULTIVATION — 'THE ST. ANTONIO GAR- DENS — WINDS— RAINFALL. After visiting Tunis, Carthage, and their vicinity, I wished to proceed to Malta. The only regular communi- cation between Tunis and Malta is by a little screw steamer — -the Lancefield, a mere small steam yacht, which rolls fearfully, but is swift and safe. It plies weekly between each destination, but on this occasion its usual arrival at and departure from Tunis was delayed. I had been nearly a week there, had minutely examined the town and the neighbouring country, and the hotel accom- modation was very bad. Moreover, there was absolutely nothing to do, for I had not leisure to examine the interior. I became therefore very anxious to get away, and through the kindness of the vice-consul, secured a passage to Malta in a large merchant ship, which had called at Tunis to unload cargo on its way to Alexandria. The vessel, a steamer, had eighty tons of gunpowder on board for the garrison at Malta, but I was too anxious to depart to be influenced by such a minor consideration ! On this fine ship, heavily laden, going at six or seven miles an hour only, with a strong north-west or west wind, we had a beautiful passage. Although the wind was howling, the sky grey, and the sea rough, we moved along, wind behind us, as steadily as a church, could eat and drink and be merry, and arrived at Malta May 9 after thirty-four hours' navigation. On this voyage I was again much struck by the difference between steaming in a large ship and in a small one. At present in the Mediterranean everything is sacrificed to speed ; so the ordinary passenger steamers, all VALETTA AND ITS VEGETATION. 485 screws, are made very long and very narrow, drawing very little water. They are like cigars, and roll fearfully if the sea is in the slightest degree agitated, when a larger and steadier vessel would scarcely feel it. This makes seafaring more trying in the Mediterranean than it used to be in the days of broad paddle-wheel steamers. Malta is a calcareous rocky island, which rises a few hundred feet only above the sea, and is situated in latitude 35° ; it is fifty-eight miles from the nearest point of Sicily, one hundred and seventy-nine from the nearest coast-line of Africa, forty-four miles in circumference, seventeen miles in greatest length north to south, nine miles in greatest width east to west. A slight rocky elevation or ridge, from north to south, separates the island into two unequal portions, the eastern being the more extensive and the more populous. The surface is undulating and uneven, although the general character of the island is that of a 'plain, nowhere rising more than six hundred, feet above the sea. In the town of Valetta, overlooking the magnificent harbour, there is but little vegetation ; still there are some squares planted, and a small straggling garden on the ramparts. Moreover, wild plants grow here and there in nooks and corners. The vegetation appeared to me iden- tically the same as in other parts of the Mediterranean — at Athens or Sardinia, at Corfu, Tunis, or Smyrna, and the stage of growth the same as in these and other similar regions at this epoch of the spring (the second week in May). My explorations commenced on the 10th. In the rampart garden I found Ailanthus coming into leaf, S chirms Mulli in flower, Oleander in bud, large Mallow in flower, Euonymus japonica in flower, Pome- granate in leaf, Carouba trees, Sida arborea, Sparmannia Africana, Buddleia Madagascariensis in flower ; Roses, hybrid, Banksia, multifiora, in flower; Justicia arborea, Nasturtium. Stock, Petunia, Verbena, Marigold, Pelargo- nium, Larkspur, Virginian Stock, in flower; Hollyhock, first flower opening; Fig in full leaf, fruit swelling ; Opuntia, and Aloe. Nearly all these had been flowering in my garden at Mentone ever since February or March. 486 MALTA. In the garden of the Governor's town palace, sur- rounded on all sides by buildings, a mere planted court- yard in the interior of the town, were many of these plants and flowers. In addition I noticed a magnificent Araucaria excelsa at least fifty feet high, planted in 1858 by Prince Alfred, and then only seven feet in height. The walls were covered with a Bougainvillea in full bloom, a beautiful sight. The vigour and luxuriance of this plant showed that the calcareous soil and the climate of Malta suit it thoroughly. There was also Jasminum revolutum, Bignonia Capensis in flower, Fuchsia not in flower, Oranges just set, Loquats ripening, Casuarina flourishing, Cereus grandiflora the same. The following day I took a leisurely drive to Citta Vecchia, the former capital, six miles from Valetta, nearly in the centre of the island, on one of the highest points of the central ridge. On a subsequent occasion I drove right through the island to St. Paul's Bay, at the south- western extremity, carefully examining the aspect of the country and the vegetation all the way. Seen from a height, as for instance from the heights of Citta Vec- chia, the island of Malta looks barren, and thence, no doubt, it has been described as a barren rock. The most cursory inspection, however, shows that this is a gross error, and that the accounts of soil having been trans- ported from the continent are totally devoid of foundatioo. The error, no doubt, originates in the fact that the entire island is divided into fields of a few acres each, as in England, that these fields are bounded by stone walls four or five feet high, and that scarcely any trees higher than the walls are to be seen. Higher trees exist, but they are hidden in gardens surrounded by walls fifteen, twenty, or twenty-five feet high. Thus an observer may pass through the island, and under the very walls of these gardens, without seeing a shrub or a tree therein contained. It is the winds that course over the low sea-girt island from every point of the compass, that necessitate this extraordinary amount of shelter. No trees except the pyramidal Cypress, and scarcely that wind-proof Conifer, appear able to resist their influence,, and to grow without the protection of walls or of surrounding buildings. THE INTERIOR AND ITS VEGETATION. 487 If. as we pass along the road, we look over the stone walls, we at once perceive that every enclosure contains soil cultivated with extreme care, and producing crops abundant although meagre and low in habit. I observed principally bearded Wheat and Barley turning colour, Potatoes, Vetches, Clover, and Beans. The value of manure is clearly appre- ciated, for many fields had been ploughed and were covered with heaps of manure about to be dug in. I was told that the second summer crop is Cotton, which is extensively planted. In all these fields there was not a weed to be seen, they were as clear as a gentleman's garden in England just after it has been trimmed. It is said that more than two-thirds of the island is under cultivation, the rest being rock, where it rises to # the surface in ridges and elevations, but that the area of cultivation is gradually being extended. I'» noticed in several places the process of formation of new fields, and found that it is very much the same as what I am doing among my Grimaldi rocks at Mentone. Calcareous rocks are always full of fissures, cracks, and crevices, in which, in the Mediterranean climate, Thyme, Rosemary, and grasses grow. In the course of centuries their decay forms earth, which collects in greater or less quantity according to the size of the crack or crevice. When these rocks are broken or blasted the earth is found, and forms a very good soil. The broken rocks serve for supporting or boundary walls, the earth is spread on the ground to form the new terrace or field, with whatever addition can be found, and with the smaller stones. The latter disintegrate in time, manure is added, and vegetation begins. Inside villages, inside courtyards, in spots two-thirds or three-quarters surrounded by houses or outbuildings, under the brow of rocks or ridges running from east to west, at the bottom of now dry ravines and watercourses — wherever, in a word, there was shelter from wind, and especially from north, north-east, or north-west wind, I found sparse, small, stunted specimens ,of the familiar vegetation of the Mediterranean : Pinus maritima and Halepensis, Cupressus pyramidalis and macrocarpa, Ailanthus glandulosa, Populus alba, Phytolacca dioica, popularly called Belombrosa in 488 MALTA. Italy, most frequently small Fig trees, Schinus Mulli, Lentiscus, Carouba, Daisy, a small Euphorbia, a Mallow, Conium, the yellow Chrysanthemum segetum, a variegated Thistle, and a species of Silene. All, however, were small, as if stunted in growth from want of food, and all seemed to be looking for shelter from the wind. Through the kindness of a friend of former days, Dr. Innes, whom I found at the head of the forces at Malta, 1 was introduced to the Governor, Sir Charles Straubenzee. Sir Charles most courteously asked me to see his gardens at St. Antonio, the Governor's summer palace, and I examined them minutely with very deep interest. I had passed through the village of St. Antonio the day before without even suspecting that it contained an ex- tensive garden in connexion with this summer palace. The only external trace of fe garden was a row of tall pyramidal Cypress trees. Once inside the cause was re- vealed ; where not bounded by the buildings of the palace it was surrounded by a wall at least twenty-five feet high. Inside it seemed as if a magician/ s wand had transported me to another country, to a real garden of Eden. All the flowers named in this and former chapters as flourishing in winter and spring in the Mediterranean region were there, growing and blooming with extreme luxuriance, indeed with greater luxuriance than I had seen anywhere before, not even excepting Malaga, the sheltered valleys of Corfu or the Genoese Riviera, although I was told by Sir Charles that the soil was neither good nor deep. There was a large tree of Erythrina coralloides, larger than those I saw at Malaga, the only region of the Medi- terranean where I have seen them as timber trees ; a Ficus elastica, also a timber tree, rising at least fifty feet, as high as the house. Both these trees Sir Charles told me re- minded him of China and the East, as they were as large as those usually met with there. A Bougainvillea covered one side of the house with its deep scarlet bloom. The intensity of the light and sun in tbe Mediterranean appears to give the flowers this deep scarlet hue. I at first thought it was a different species, until, flowering one in a glass- house at Mentone, 1 found that the bracts growing rather THE GOVERNOR'S GARDEN AT ST. ANTONIO. 489 in the shade had the hue of our Bougainvillea spectabilis, whereas the bracts of the same plant immediately under- neath the glass had the usual deep scarlet hue — as deep as that of the blossom of the Verbena imperialis. Marechal Niel and Safrano were in full bloom, as were many hybrid Roses, Bengal, Banksia, and multiflora, in large bushes and flowering in masses; Euphorbia splendens and Russellia juncea occurred as bushes covered with flower. There were also several large plants of Cycas revoluta, Bignonia jasminoides, Capensis, capreolata, and Ficus stipu- late or repens, covering large walls. Sparmannia Africana, Justicia • arborea, Habrothamnus elegans, Abutilon Mala- koff, Yinca major, Lonicera flexuosa japonica in flower, Ivy very luxuriant; Astrapsea Wallichii, with large showy flowers ; Cephalotaxus Fortunei, large healthy plant ; Cestrum cauliflorum and nocturnum, also good ; Hibiscus, Althsea, Melianthus major, Iochroma tubulosa were among the plants most conspicuous here. Among trees there were Paulownia and Melia Azedarach in flower, immense and most beautiful. One magnificent tree more especially struck my attention ; it was labelled Prosopis flexuosa. This tree was at first glance like the Carouba, but it was larger, more majestic, with finer leaves. I have never seen it before, unless it be the same as the Prosopis Siliquastrum met with at Madrid. In a separate garden or orchard were hundreds of bushy Orange trees, with boles one or two feet in diameter, about fifteen feet high, and loaded with fruit. There was a grove of Loquats, with the fruit ripe • and sweeter and better than I had ever tasted before. This orchard was protected by walls, like the garden, and abundantly sup- plied with water — irrigated every ten days, I was told , all summer. It appears that there are in Malta many gardens and orchards like these shut up within high walls, and that it is in these the Orange trees are grown. Previous to this information I had wondered from whence the Oranges for which Malta is so celebrated came. I had perambulated the island in every direction, and the only Orange trees I had seen was a group of sickly representatives of the species in a square near the Cathedral at Yaletta. 490 MALTA. The above facts give the key to the climate and vege- tation of Malta. In winter and spring it is ravaged by- north winds, which blow over it from every northern point of the compass, just as they blow over the small islands of the Grecian Archipelago. From its lowness, and the absence of mountain ridges running east and west, and giving protection at their southern base, it offers no shelter to vegetation but that which man constructs. Thus, the tree vegetation can no more hold its own than in one of our northern Hebrides, and it is, consequently, all but absent. These winds, cool and moist when from the north, check vegetation in winter in all exposed situations, although the night temperature is higher than on the northern shores of the Mediterranean. Owing to this fact, the general unprotected flora gives no evidence of a more southern climate; at the same time, the summer heat being much greater, if artificial protection be given, as at the iSt. Antonio gardens, the subtropical vegetation of the more sheltered regions of the Mediterranean flourishes with extreme and unusual luxuriance. Perhaps the moister island atmosphere of Malta also tends to encourage vege- tation in sheltered spots. The rains in winter are frequent and abundant, especially in December, January, and February — a fact which implies that they come with north-east and north-west winds, as those winds predominate in mid-winter in the Medi- terranean, and although dry on the continent become moist in crossing the sea. In summer it scarcely rains at all, so that, as there are no rivers, and not many springs, the rain has to be stored in tanks for summer use. Dew, however, is said to fall heavily in summer, and to supply the place of the rain, which means that the air is very moist even in the greatest heat of summer. This is always the case in islands, as the wind must come over water — sea or lake — whichever way it blows, and has thus imbibed moisture. There are great storage works for water all over Valetta, and indeed all over the island. In the vicinity of Valetta I saw an army of workmen appa- rently disembowelling a street. They had made an immense excavation, occupying its entire length and Min. January . 507 February . . 52" March . . . 53- April . . . . 56- May . . . . 62- Jane . . . . 73- Min. Max. July . . . . 74- 76- August . . 76- 77' September . . 71" 73* October . . . 66- 70- November . 59- 63" December . 55- 60- CLIMATE, WINDS, RAIN. 491 breadth, and I was told that it was merely one of these tanks in process of formation. According to Dr. Davey, quoted by Dr. Scoresby Jackson, the maximum and minimum for 1833 at Valetta were : — Max. 54-6 57- 58- 61- 68- 73- The principal fact conveyed by these figures is the one already noticed : the greater warmth of the nights in winter as compared with the night temperature on the north shore of the Mediterranean. The difference in winter at Malta appears to be seldom more than five or six degrees, whereas at Mentone it is usually from eight to ten, and on the Upper Nile, in latitude 22° to 25°, according to Dr. Dalrymple, it is from twenty to thirty ! This latter fact shows the great difference between continental and insular, or maritime regions. In the summer, as in the [Mediterranean basin generally, the difference between night minimum and day maximum is only one or two degrees. I was about a week at Malta, and, after a minute survey of the island, and of its vegetation, came to the conclusion that it presented none of the conditions of shelter and protection from north winds that I am in the habit of considering essential to a winter sanitorium in the Medi- terranean. Moreover Valetta, where all strangers reside, is a large town, with a large garrison, and presents all the usual diseases, zymotic and other of large towns. Fever of a low typhoid form is common. Such being the case, notwithstanding the great social advantages it presents, its English comforts and appliances of every kind, I cannot place Malta in the list of resorts for real and serious invalidism. For those who are only ailing, without being really ill, like Corfu, it may prove a pleasant change, beneficial to the mind and to the general health. I have described Malta without alluding to the Knights of St. John. To do so is all but sacrilege, for their memory pervades every foot of ground ; but want of space must be my excuse. PART III. THE SOUTH SHORES OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. CHAPTER XV. ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. — THE SEA. VOYAGE — ALGIERS — THE EXPERI- MENTAL GARDEN THE TRAPPIST MONASTERY — • EABYLIA — PORT NAPOLEON BLIDAH — THE CHIPPA GORGE — MILIANAH TENIET-EL- HAD — THE CEDAR POREST — THE DESERT — THE VALLEY OP THE CHELIPP — ORLEANSVILLE — ORAfl — DEPARTURE. " From Greenland's icy mountains, From India's coral strand, Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand : From many an ancient river, From many a Palmy plain, They call us to deliver Their land from Error's chain." Bishop Heber. Ox the afternoon of April the 13th, 1.869, 1 left Marseilles, at five o'clock, on board a fine screw steamer belonging to the Messageries Imperiales, bound for Algiers. The weather was very fine, the sun shining intensely in a clear blue sky, a light wind blowing from the land, the barometer high, and the sea calm. We glided gently out of La Joliette harbour, and past the Chateau d'Iff, with all the passengers on deck, as if intent on a pleasure excursion. Many were looking sadly on the land gradually receding, thinking of dear ones left behind, whilst others seemed to scan the horizon joyously; their thoughts were evidently occupied by the anticipation of happy meetings. So it is in life; we are ever parting, ever meeting, sorrowful or joyous, until at last we part to meet no more on this side of the grave. The evening was a pleasant one to all, or nearly all ; long before nightfall we were out of sight of land, and we watched the sun &o down into his waterv couch on the western MAJORCA AND MINORCA — SEA-SICKNESS. 493 horizon in great glory. Then we retired to our comfortable cabins, and most of us found, in balmy sleep, oblivion of the capricious sea that bore us on her bosom. The next morning there was very perceptible motion, dressing was troublesome, and on going on deck I found that the sea had become rather frolicsome, the ship rather lively, and that the sky was covered with lead-coloured, water-laden clouds hurrying up in serried battalions from the south- west to fight the sunny north-east breeze that had wafted us so far. About midday we reached the friendly shelter of Majorca, and passed between that island and Minorca. Majorca we did not even see, but we skirted the shores of Minorca for a couple of hours, near enough to scan the features of the country, and to examine, from afar, several villages and towns. The shore appeared to be bounded by high cliffs, precipitous in some places, and the land- scape was all but entirely denuded of trees, as is the case with the mother country, Spain. When we advanced beyond the shelter which the large island of Majorca affords from the south-west we got into a regular gale, with a very heavy sea. Our vessel commenced to plunge and roll fear- fully, at one and the same time, and I succumbed, as did nineteen-twentieths of my companions. We took to our beds forthwith, and remained in the usual agonies of sea- sickness until our arrival at Algiers the next olay. I subse- quently learnt that during about eight months of the year — from September to May — the passage between Marseilles and Algeria is generally of this character. Even when fine in the north part of the Mediterranean, there is generally a gale and a heavy sea in the south ; and if fine on the African shores, there is generally a gale in the Gulf of Lyons. Whilst enduring all the misery of sea-sickness I tried to analyse my own sensations, and to find why it was that I was suffering. The most approved theory is that sea-sick- ness is a nervous affection, connected with the brain, and with the ever-changing position of surrounding objects, relatively to the body and vision. I feel convinced, how- ever, that such is not the sole cause, from my own personal experience. I have no fear whatever of the sea. Unless actually ill, I delight in being on it, however rough, in any L'ALCERIE (ALGERIA) jravcjvu- Krliav