ITALY, FROM THE ALPS TO MOUNT !ETNA.*

IT is not easy to produce within anything like reasonable compass a work descriptive of the whole of Italy, but the present volume, ambitious though it be, satisfies us about as well as anything of the sort can do. In point of illustration, it is excellent ; its 100 full-page and 300 smaller engravings are all of them

characteristic, and some of them strikingly good. As to the literary part, which is the work of three Germans, Mrs. Trollope has done full justice to it by her translation, and it is in the main,

but for the size of the book, extremely readable, although the style is a little too gushing, verging, in fact, on the sensational. The writers have done their best to bring into their description the Italy of the past as well as that of the present, and do not fail to make cursory mention of historic events, as they lead us along

the highways and byways. Indeed, the lover of Italy will find a thousand half-sleeping recollections revived during its perusal,

and many fading mental pictures restored to all their vivid colouring. Mr. Karl Stieler, to whom we are indebted for the first part of the volume, that which speaks of Italy from the Alps to the Arno, gives a happy description of the crossing of the Mont Cenis by the awe-inspiring tunnel,—that half-hour of darkness when the traveller is " so delivered over to the powers of nature that no human hand could help him were an accident to occur ;" we hear the groaning and panting of the engine as it labours up its dismal ascent of four hundred feet, and feel it rush down the incline, past weird-looking misty lights and phantom signal-men, until the joyous apparition of daylight and of

mountain peaks, ravines, and torrents, and the shout of " Bardon- sechia !" inform the nervous traveller that the danger is passed, and he has arrived in Italy. It is said that although no accident has yet occurred in the tunnel, two trains did meet there on one occasion, and had to back out in opposite directions. The terror of the travellers, if conscious of their predicament, can be better imagined than described ; and there is no doubt that if not pressed for time, such leisurely journeys as those across the Spliigen and St. Gothard, which are next described, are infinitely more agreeable. The book we are considering takes us over the whole of Italy, leaving but few corners unexplored, and shows us how much there is to study in the most out-of-the-way places, and how impossible it is to gain anything like a knowledge of the country in the hurried visits which seem to satisfy most travellers.

The writer of the third part makes himself especially merry over the efforts to see Rome in three days, and other such superhuman exertions made by the hasty traveller, who "plunges into this

sea of wonders on the arm of a strong swimmer, ordinarily called a valet de place," and contrives by his assistance to keep himself upon the surface ; but, indeed, this kind of thing is almost more melancholy than ludicrous. Mr. Kaden's description of the Cam- pagna, its barren plains, deserted cities, and wretched inhabitants, deserves to be noticed, for it is especially well done, and gives a picture of desolation second only to that afforded by a personal contemplation of the desolate region itself. And yet he declares that a summer sunset on the Roman Campagna is the most splendid spectacle which the poetic soul can hope to see. But it is a sight which is seldom contemplated by any save the Cam-

pagnoli, who are, as a rule, too ragged and famished, too worn with scantily paid labour, too fever-stricken, to have any enthu- siasm for the glorious vision which greets them day after day, for the finest sunsets take place in August, and by that time the

tourist and even the artist has usually betaken himself far from the Eternal City.

"I remember yet, with deep emotion," says the writer, "a sunset such as I have only seen once in all my life. We were returning from the sea-shore, along the ancient Via Ardentina. It was a rough Sep- tember evening, towards the end of the month ; a cutting cold north wind blew over the open heath, and rustled in the dry shrubs by the wayside, bending them to the earth, and sighed among the sun-burnt rushes. A cold, dreary, sullen colouring lay upon the country ; a dull, neutral tone. The Campagna looked like the countenance of one who has suffered much, and now, at the moment of some new and painful parting, forcibly restrains his tears, or conceals them beneath a mask of cold defiance. It was a spectacle which attuned the soul to deepest melancholy. The sun hangs yet but a little while over the edge of the sea, but ere it sinks in its last momenta, it suddenly pours out a stream of gold over the world—a stream so full and dazzling that the eyes quiver and close before it. There is no green to be distinguished in the trees or the high reeds, no grey in the walls and fences. Every blade, every leaf is as if cast in burnished metal, and all nature is steeped in one deep, glaring yellow. This lasts for fully ten minutes, then— there needs but an instant for the change—a clear, joyous, rose-oolour shines on high ; that changes into a solemn, majestic purple, and is, in its turn, succeeded by deep violet, which, slowly withdrawing across • Italy, from She Alps to Mount Xing. Translated by France. Eleanor Trollope, and edited by Thomas Adolphus Trollops. Illustrated with 100 full-page and 800 smaller Engravings. London : Chapman and Hall.

the landscape, seems at length to concentrate itself in the Alban moun- tains, and to linger there until it melts away from the latest-illumined summit, the Monte Cavo, above which the evening star already trembles. Was this glaring illumination beautiful? It was wonderful, entrancing, filling the soul with images of another world, another time, images such as seldom visit even our dreams; a universe in flames."

Herr Kaden laments that so few travellers can appreciate the solemn beauty of the Campagna, and that numbers complain of having been sent into a place which has no charms for their un- seeing eyes and irresponsive souls ; but he, spending some time in the oasis of Castel Fusano, and extending his rambles among the deserted ruins of once populous cities, and the caverns and reed huts of the herdsmen and shepherds, seems to have entered into and imbibed the spirit of the place, of which he gives us many artistic sketches,—the little goatherd lazily drawing quaint, plaintive music from his rudely-fashioned pipe ; the

shepherd, with his beautiful but melancholy face ; the sad- looking brethren of the Misericordia, bearing home the body of the man who has been killed in the Campagna; and the bit of Roman road, with its few passengers and bare, rugged sur- roundings. And his word-pictures of the men who live there, the hard, stern beings untouched by civilisation, with no bright- ness in their lives, nothing to mitigate their sufferings, as fierce and wild as the herds with which they pass their lives, and which it is their business and perhaps their pleasure to pursue and con- quer, are drawn at least as well. The country between the Lago Fucino and the Pontine Marshes, with its picturesque towns standing on the summits and slopes of the hills, wooded gorges and ravines surrounding them on all sides, is also full of interest. Yet the towns, upon a nearer inspection, are ruinous and poor, and though frequently surrounded with vines or olives, fruit-

trees of all kinds, and delicious, fragrant flowers, are often nothing more than beauteous abodes of misery. There are exceptions,

however. At Anagni, a place seldom visited by the tourist, the people are healthy and strong ; beautiful children play joyfully in the sunshine ; and the place is described as a sort of Italian Nuremberg, so full is it of charming pictures. Genazzano is another delightful spot which the artist does well to visit. As it is a celebrated place of pilgrimage, he may see here types of all the different neighbouring populations, whether offering fervid sup- plications, or enjoying themselves as only a Southern people can do beneath the luxuriant, picturesquely beautiful foliage. Pil-

grimages take place in early spring and daring the vintage, both excellent seasons for enjoying the delicious scenery. We next come to that paradise of painters, the range of the Sabine Hills. There we have Subiaco, Monte Capino, Civitella, Olevano, and a hundred other delightful spots; and we wander on to the Abruzzi, passing many a classic site. " A street-scene in the Abruzzi " gives us a charming idea of the picturesque " bits" to be found in such a ramble ; while the Val di Sangro leads us to another scene of desolation, a nest of robbers, amid countless bare, inhospitable peaks. Naples and its contorni are known to every one, and yet, perhaps, under the guidance of Herr Kaden, even the traveller who thinks he has done full justice to those lonely regions may find things to admire which he little imagined to exist, and find his next visit more fruitful of enjoyment than any previous one. Capri, too, and the neigh- bouring islands are lovingly descanted on, and have been seen with an artist's eye, and the sketches of its scenery are extremely charming, But the land-journey through Lucania, Apulia, and

Calabria is still more interesting, because more untrodden ground, and this part of the volume is suggestive of holiday excursions which would be a pleasant change from the beaten track. Indeed the intending tourist may gather much useful information from this volume, while it will furnish the stay-at-home reader with a delightful journey, which may be undertaken by his fire-side ; and if, as we said before, the writers are a little too enthusiastic, it is a fault which, considering the nature of the subject, may easily

obtain our pardon.