the Adriatic. To the mariner, who sees these mountains rise above
the verdure of the littoral region, they have an appearance of the
greatest regularity. Summit rises beyond summit, one lateral chain
succeeds to the other, and every one of the numerous valleys descends
perpendicularly to the coast. The slope throughout is steep, and the
geological strata, whether of Jurassic, cretaceous, or tertiary age,
succeed each other regularly from the snow-clad summits down to the
promontories of the coast. The only irregularity consists in a detached
group of hills (1,880 feet) to the south of Ancona, above which the
axis of the Apennines changes its direction. This region of Italy is
the natural counterpart of Liguria. The position of Ancona corresponds
with that of Genoa, and the coast, which extends on the one hand to
Emilia, and on the other towards the peninsula of Monte Gargano, may
fairly be likened to the “Rivieras” of Genoa, with this exception, that
its direction is inverse. The territory between the mountains and the
coast is narrow, the littoral road frequently winds round promontories,
and the towns extend up the hill-sides. Still this portion of Italy
is not as strongly protected by nature as Liguria. Towards the north
it expands upon the plain of the Po, whilst the terraces at the
foot of the main range of the Apennines afford easy access from the
west. During the whole of the Middle Ages and down to our own days
neighbouring states have fought for the possession of this territory,
which has become known, from this circumstance, as the “Marches;” that
is, the disputed frontier districts, where every town is a fortress
perched on the top of a hill.
The Apennines forming the boundary between the Marches and Latium, or
Rome, like those of Etruria, are grouped in separate mountain masses.
The first of these commands the valley of the Tiber in the east; it
extends in the north to Monte Comero (3,828 feet) and the Fumajolo,
or head-stream of the Tiber, and in the south to Monte Verone (5,006
feet). Though inferior in height to other parts of the Apennines, these
mountains are known as the _Alpe della Luna_. A gap, {258} through
which passes the road from Perugia to Fano, separates them from Monte
Catria (5,585 feet). At that point the Apennines bifurcate, and two
parallel ranges can be traced thence for a distance of 120 miles, as
far as the transverse range of the Majella (9,158 feet), which reunites
them, and from which radiate the mountains of Southern Italy. These
parallel chains belong to the Jurassic and cretaceous formations, and
neither of them forms a water-parting, for whilst the Nera and other
rivers tributary to the Tiber force themselves a passage through the
western one, that on the east is broken by numerous gorges, through
which rivers and torrents find their way into the Adriatic. The most
considerable of these rivers is the Pescara, which rises on the plateau
of the Abruzzos, where it is known as the Aterno, and traverses the
eastern range where it is highest. The gorge excavated by this river is
sufficiently wide to afford space for a railway joining the Adriatic to
the basin of the Tiber.
The plateau of the Abruzzos, enclosed by these parallel ranges,
may be looked upon as the natural citadel of Central Italy. On its
western side rise the double pyramids of Monte Velino (8,157 feet);
in the north Monte Vettore (8,131 feet) forms the termination of the
range of the Sibillini; in the east rises the culminating point of
the Apennines, a mountain covered with snow the greater part of the
year, and appropriately called the “Great Rock of Italy”—“Gran Sasso
d’Italia” (9,518 feet). The fact that this magnificent mountain is the
highest in all Italy has been known from times immemorial. The Romans
conceived they had discovered the “umbilic of Italy” in a small lake
near it, upon which floated an island formed of rank vegetation. The
Marsi and their allies, when they took up arms against their Roman
oppressors, chose Corfinium, in its neighbourhood, for the seat of
their empire, and surnamed it Italica; and there, too, the first
movements which led to the resurrection of modern Italy took place. The
Gran Sasso, as seen from the Adriatic, affords a magnificent spectacle.
Its calcareous masses cannot boast of much beauty of profile, but this
is compensated for by the fine Alpine region extending beneath its
summit, which remains the haunt of bears and chamois, and where rare
plants in the meadows remind us of Switzerland. Forests of beeches
and pines are still met with in a few places, and are all the more
appreciated as forests no longer exist in the lowland regions. This
universal destruction of the forests is one of the great misfortunes
of Italy. In many parts of the Roman Apennines even the soil has been
washed away, and only in a few crevasses do we meet with brooms and
briers.
The valleys on the western slope of the Apennines are enclosed between
calcareous spurs of the main range, some of which attain a considerable
elevation. The Tiber itself thus passes between two lofty mountains,
rising at the lower extremity of two of these Sub-Apennine spurs, and
forming a kind of triumphal gateway. These are the Soracte (2,270
feet) and Gennaro (4,162 feet). These fine mountains, with the Sabine
Hills and the volcanic groups near them, form the horizon of the Roman
Campagna, and their natural beauties are enhanced by the memories of
art and history which attach to them.
[Illustration: PEASANTS OF THE ABRUZZOS.]
Several ranges of hills and detached mountain groups of calcareous
formation, {259} like the Sub-Apennines, border upon the shore of
the Tyrrhenian Sea and the marshes which extend along it. Such are the
hills, rich in alum, which are grouped around the ancient trachytic
cone of the Tolfa. Such, too, are the Monte Lepini (4,845 feet),
the naked crest of which has been likened to an ass’s back—_schiena
d’asino_—and which bound the Pontine Marshes on the east. In some of
the recesses of these hills there still exist forests of chestnut-trees
and beeches, where the descendants of the ancient Volsci may pasture
their hogs; but almost everywhere else the hill-sides are bare of
vegetation, and the scorching rays of the sun have split the rocks
into innumerable angular fragments. To the east of the marshes rises a
summit with ten pinnacles, covered with dense shrub on the land side,
but barren towards the sea, a few stunted palms excepted, which grow
in the fissures of the rock. This isolated hill, a counterpart of the
Argentaro of Tuscany, is the Circello (1,729 feet), famous as the
residence of the enchantress Circe. The grotto where she changed human
beings into animals is still pointed out there to the curious, and the
remains of cyclopean walls recall the mythical age of the Odyssey. The
ancient Greeks, who were but imperfectly acquainted with Italy, looked
upon this dreaded promontory of Circe as one of the most important
islands of the Western Cyclades.
During the glacial period the sea, in which have been deposited the
chalk and other rocks composing the Sub-Apennines, was the scene of
volcanic action on a grand scale. The matter ejected was heaped up in a
line of volcanic cones, running in a direction nearly parallel with the
Apennines and the coast of the Mediterranean. These cones are joined
to each other by thick layers of tufa, which cover the whole of the
plain as far as the foot of the calcareous mountains, and extend for
a distance of nearly 120 miles, from Monte Amiata, in Tuscany, to the
mountains of Albano, being interrupted only by the alluvial valley of
the Tiber. Ponzi and other geologists are of opinion that this tufa was
ejected from submarine volcanoes, carried away by the currents, and
equally distributed over the depressions of the sea-bottom. No fossils
have been discovered in it hitherto, which is accounted for by the
presence of icebergs, which prevented a development of animal life.
This volcanic region is remarkable on account of its numerous lakes.
The largest of these, that of Bolsena, was formerly looked upon
as an ancient crater. This crater would have exceeded by far the
largest volcanic vents met with in the Andes or in Java, for it has a
circumference of twenty-five miles, and covers an area of forty-four
square miles. Modern geologists, however, look upon this crateriform
lake as a basin of erosion, and though it occupies the centre of a
plateau formed of ashes, scoriæ, and lava, these do not form a steep
edge towards the lake, as in the case of veritable craters in the
same district. One of the most remarkable of these latter is that of
Latera, to the west of the lake, in the centre of which rises a cone of
eruption, the Monte Spignano, which has a diameter of nearly five miles.
The district of the Bolsena is likewise remarkable on account of
its vertical precipices of tufa and lava. Its picturesque towns and
villages are perched upon {260} bold promontories looking down on
the valleys. The old town of Bagnorea occupies the extremity of an
immense mole, and is joined to the new town by a giddy path, bounded by
steep precipices, which timid travellers do not care to venture upon.
Orvieto stands on an isolated rock resembling a fortress. Pittigliano
is surrounded by precipices: by cutting away a few yards of the narrow
isthmus which joins it to the rest of the plateau, access to it would
be impossible to all but birds. In the Middle Ages, when nobles and
towns were continually at war, the capture of one of these eyries was
looked upon as a grand achievement.
[Illustration: Fig. 90.—THE LAKE OF BOLSENA.
Scale 1 : 457,000.]
Lake Bolsena discharges its surplus waters through the Marta into
the Mediterranean. The fine Lake of Bracciano, to the south of it,
gives rise to the Arrone. It, too, appears to be a basin formed by a
subsidence of the ground or erosion, and not a crater. The Lake of
Vico, on the other hand, clearly occupies an ancient volcano, though
its rampart has been gutted towards the east. Close to the lake, and
within the encircling rampart, rises Monte Venere, a perfect cone,
the gentle slopes of which are luxuriantly wooded. Formerly the lake
surrounded this cone, but the breach through which its emissary escapes
to the Tiber having gradually been deepened, the waters of the lake
subsided. Tradition says that an ancient city lies at its bottom.
On crossing the Tiber we reach the beautiful volcanic group of Albano,
within the great crater of which may still be traced the remains
of several secondary craters, some of them occupied by lakes. The
principal one of these, Monte Cavo (2,790 feet), rises in the very
centre of the exterior rampart. Tradition points it out as one of
Hannibal’s camps. The exterior slopes of the mountain consist of
pozzuolana, small stones, and ashes, through which the torrents have
dug out furrows in divergent directions. The diversity of these {261}
volcanic products enables us to trace the phases of activity of this
Roman Vesuvius, which was active at a much more recent epoch than the
volcanoes farther north, and sent its streams of lava to the very gates
of Rome.
[Illustration: Fig. 91.—VOLCANOES OF LATIUM.
From the Austrian Staff Map. Scale 1 : 294,000.]
The Lake of Albano discharges its surplus waters through a tunnel
7,665 feet in length, which has been in existence for more than
twenty-two centuries. The lake is famous on account of a small crab,
large numbers of which are forwarded to Rome during Lent. It is the
only species of this animal hitherto discovered in fresh water, and
zoologists conclude from this that the crater now occupied by the lake
formerly communicated with the sea, but was separated from it by slow
upheavals and the ejection of volcanic products. Flint implements
and vases of baked clay, discovered in the thick layers of volcanic
peperino, prove that at the {262} period of the earliest eruptions
the country was already inhabited by a civilised population. Some of
the vases referred to are doubly precious, for they present us with
delineations of the houses of that prehistoric epoch. Roman coins and
clasps of bronze, discovered in the upper layers of lava, prove that
these are comparatively recent. In fact, the most diverse developments
of civilisation have left their traces in these ancient craters. Alba
Longa and other towns of the Latins have been replaced by Roman cities;
then came the castles of the popes, and of other high dignitaries of
the Church; and at present these hills are one of the chief resorts of
the crowds of strangers who flock to Rome from every quarter of the
world. On the culminating point of Monte Cavo stood the famous temple
of Jupiter Latialis, where the Latins celebrated their federal Feriæ.
The last remains of this temple were swept away in 1783, to be used in
the construction of a church. From its site the eye embraces a view
extending to the hills of Sardinia.
The Lake of Nemi no longer reflects in its bluish waters the foliage
of luxuriant trees, or the walls of that dreaded temple of Diana whose
priest was only allowed to assume office after he had killed his
predecessor in a duel. It, too, has its subterranean emissary, like
the Lake of Albano. As to the Regillus, famed for the defeat of the
Latins by the Romans, it has dried up, whilst the incrustating Lake of
Tartari and that of the Solfatara, with its floating islands, are more
shallow ponds, which owe their fame almost exclusively to the vicinity
of Tivoli.
All these volcanic lakes are of considerable depths, whilst the lakes
in the calcareous regions are shallow.[89] One amongst them, that of
Fucino, has been drained recently, and the same fate is in store for
that of Trasimeno. Lake Fucino originally occupied an area of 104
square miles, and its surplus waters discharged themselves towards
the north-west into the Salto, a tributary of the Tiber. At an epoch
not known to us the dimensions of the lake became less. It no longer
discharged an effluent, but its waters rose and fell according to
whether the seasons were wet or dry. Occasionally they rose as much as
50 feet, and two cities, Marruvium and Pinna, are said to have been
swallowed up during one of these floods. At other times it was reduced
to a swamp. The ancient Romans, desirous of suppressing a hotbed of
fever, and of gaining fertile soil for agriculture, attempted to drain
this lake. Claudius employed 30,000 slaves for eleven years in cutting
a passage through the mountains from it to the Liri. This great work
was carried on under the direction of the greedy Narcissus, but it
turned out a failure, for after a short time the tunnel became choked.
In the thirteenth century an attempt was made to reopen this tunnel,
but the drainage of the lake has only been achieved quite recently,
in accordance with plans designed by M. de Montricher, and carried
out at the expense of Prince Torlonia. Between {263} 1855 and 1869 a
new tunnel was excavated on the site of the ancient one, and nearly
150,000,000 cubic yards of water were conveyed through it into the
Liri, and thence to the sea. The whole of the ancient lake bed has been
converted into smiling fields, traversed in all directions by carriage
roads; houses have been erected on spots formerly covered with water;
fruit and ornamental trees have been planted; and the salubrity of the
country leaves nothing to be desired now. Some idea of the progress
made in the art of engineering since the time of the Romans may be
formed by comparing this new tunnel with the old one. The latter was
18,500 feet in length, had an average section of 12 square yards, and
cost (according to M. Rotrou) £9,840,000. The new tunnel has a length
of 20,680 feet, a section of 24 square yards, and cost £1,200,000.
[Illustration: Fig. 92.—THE ANCIENT LAKE OF FUCINO.
Scale 1 : 412,000.]
The Lake of Perugia, better known as the Lake of Trasimeno, on account
of the terrible memories which attach to it, still retains nearly the
dimensions which it had at the dawn of history. If this lake were to
rise only a few feet, its surplus waters would find their way into
the Tresa, a tributary of the Tiber; but its basin is shallow, and
evaporation suffices for carrying off the water conveyed into it by its
tributary rivulets. Amongst these is the famous Sanguinetto, on the
banks of which the armies of Hannibal and Flaminius were engaged in
battle, when,
“beneath the fray,
An earthquake reeled unheededly away.”
The lake, with its islands and charming contours, is beautiful to
look upon, but the low hills surrounding it are sterile, the climate
is insalubrious, its waters harbour but few fish, and the inhabitants
on its shores look impatiently forward {264} to the time when the
engineers will fulfil their promise of winning for agriculture 30,000
acres of fertile land now covered by the waters of the lake.
[Illustration: Fig. 93.—LAKE OF TRASIMENO.
From the Austrian Staff Map. Scale 1 : 250,000.]
But far more urgent, on sanitary and economical grounds, are the claims
of the Roman Campagna; that is, of the region lying between the Tolfa
of Cività Vecchia, Monte Soracte, the Sabine Hills, and the volcanoes
of Latium. Slavery and maladministration have converted a fertile
region into a desert extending to the very gates of Rome. Painters are
enraptured with this Roman Campagna; they admire its melancholy aspect,
its picturesque ruins hidden beneath brambles, its solitary pines, its
pools reflecting the purple clouds, and visited by thirsty buffaloes.
True, this region, bounded by hills of bold contours, is full of
grandeur and sadness; but the air that hangs over it is deadly, the
soil and climate of this _Agro Romano_ have deteriorated, and fever now
reigns there supreme.
Two thousand years ago the Roman Campagna, which covers an area of
600,000 acres to the north of the Tiber, and extends from the sea to
the mountains, was a fertile and carefully cultivated country. Then
its inhabitants were reduced to the condition of serfs, the Roman
patricians appropriated the land, and {265} covered it with villas
and parks. When these magnificent residences were given up to pillage
and to flames, the cultivators of the soil dispersed, and the country
immediately became a desert. Since that epoch most of the Agro is held
in mortmain by ecclesiastical corporations or princely families, and
whilst all the rest of Europe has been making progress, the Campagna
has become even more sterile and insalubrious. Swamps continually
invade the lowlands, and an atmosphere charged with miasmata hangs even
above the hills. Malaria has already knocked at the gates of Rome, and
the fevers produced by it decimate the population of its suburbs.
[Illustration: Fig. 94.—THE ROMAN CAMPAGNA.]
Not a village, not even a hamlet, is met with throughout this afflicted
region. The only buildings are the wretched storehouses of the
proprietors, whose wide domains are roamed over by herds of half-wild
grey cattle, said to have been introduced into Italy by the Huns, and
distinguished by immense horns, frequently suspended in the huts of
the peasantry, who fancy that they keep off the “evil eye.” The soil
of these neglected pastures consists of alluvium mixed with volcanic
débris and marls, but only a few patches are cultivated. The farmers
and labourers who engage in this labour carry their lives in their
hands, and are frequently struck down by fever before they are able
to regain their villages in {266} the hills. What can be done to
restore to this region its fertility, salubrity, and population? No
doubt it will be necessary to drain the marshes, and to plant trees
capable, like the Eucalyptus, of absorbing the poisonous miasmata; and
this has been done, with a considerable amount of success, since 1870,
near the abbey of Tre Fontane. But, above all, it will be necessary
to interest the cultivator of the soil in its productiveness. Even
in the most salubrious districts of the ancient Papal dominions the
population is being decimated by misery and the maladies following in
its train. In the valley of Sacco, to the south-east of Rome, which
abounds in cereals, vines, and fruit trees, the cultivator of the soil
is restricted to a diet of maize, for proprietors and money-lenders eat
up the rest of his produce.
An uncultivated and insalubrious region extends, likewise, along
the sea to the south of the Tiber. Poisonous vapours arise from the
stagnant waters separated by dunes from the sea, and in order to escape
them it is necessary to seek a refuge in the hills of the interior,
or even on jetties built out into the sea, as at Porto d’Anzio. The
palaces which formerly lined the shore from Ostia to Nettuno, and from
the ruins of which have been recovered some of our most highly valued
art treasures, such as the Gladiator and Apollo Belvedere, have been
buried long ago beneath the dunes or in the swamps. The most dreaded
of these malarial districts lies at the foot of the Monti Lepini, and
extends from Porto d’Anzio to Terracina. It is known as the Pontine
Marshes, from Pometia, a city said to have perished before historical
times. No less than twenty-three cities formerly flourished in what is
now a deserted and deadly country, but which was the most prosperous
of the districts held by the confederation of the Volsci. The Roman
conquerors created “peace and solitude” at the same time. Four hundred
and forty years after the building of Rome, when Appius constructed
his famous road to Terracina, the country was only a swamp. Various
attempts have been made since to reclaim this region, but it still
remains the haunt of boars, deer, and semi-savage buffaloes, whose
ancestors were imported from Africa in the seventh century. The canals
dug during the reign of Augustus appear to have been of little use;
the works undertaken by Theodoric the Goth were more efficacious;
but stagnant waters and malaria in the end regained the mastery. The
engineers employed by Pius VI. towards the close of the eighteenth
century failed likewise, and this district of 290 square miles remains
a wilderness to the present day. If a brigand seeks refuge in it,
pursuit is stopped, and he is allowed to die in peace.
[Illustration: Fig. 95.—THE PONTINE MARSHES.
Scale 1 : 280,000.]
In order to drain these marshes an accumulation of difficulties will
have to be surmounted. A range of wooded dunes bounds the marshes on
the west. Having crossed these, we enter a second zone of marshes,
which are separated from the sea by a second range of dunes, extending
northward from the Monte Circello, and likewise densely wooded. These
two formidable barriers would have to be surmounted in order to drain
the marshes towards the west. Nor are the prospects more promising in
the direction of Terracina, for there, too, every outlet is stopped
by dunes. The streams and canals crossing the marshes are, moreover,
choked up with a dense {267} growth of aquatic plants, which impedes
the circulation of the water, feeble though it be. Herds of buffaloes
are sometimes driven into these streams to trample down the vegetation,
but neither this barbarous procedure nor the more regular process
of mowing has availed against its rapid and luxuriant growth, and
the water remains stagnant. Rains are not only heavy in this portion
of Italy, but the superabundant waters of neighbouring river basins
actually find their way through subterranean channels into the
depression occupied by the Pontine Marshes. This happens after heavy
rains in the case of the Sacco, a tributary of the Garigliano, and of
the Teverone, a tributary of the Tiber, and to this circumstance {268}
must be ascribed the curious fact first ascertained by M. de Prony,
viz. that the volume of water annually discharged by the Badino, which
drains the marshes, exceeds by one-half the whole of the rain which
annually descends upon them. When this happens the whole of the country
is under water. Another danger arises during dry weather. It happens
then occasionally that the parched vegetation is ignited through the
carelessness of herdsmen; the fire communicates itself to the turfy
soil, and the latter smoulders until the subsoil water is reached. In
this manner tracts of land which were looked upon as secure against
every inundation are converted into marsh. During the greater portion
of the year the Pontine Marshes present the appearance of a plain
covered with herbage and flowers, and it is matter for surprise that a
country so fertile should be without inhabitants. The town of Ninfa,
which was built in the eleventh century, near the northern extremity
of the plain, has since been abandoned, its walls, houses, and palaces
still remaining, covered with ivy and other creeping plants.