DESOLATION IN DALMATIA 



A Letter from Europe 



BY 



Florence Keen, of Philadelphia, Pa. 



|\/[ Y interest in forests was first 

 ^^^ awakened by meeting some for- 

 esters in Germany, many years ago, 

 and since then it has continually in- 

 creased. 



If you could see the desolation I 

 have lately seen, you would be heart 

 sick for poor Dalmatia. That coun- 

 try was once one of the richest of the 

 Roman provinces, and during the 

 reign of Diocletian, who had an im- 

 mense palace there, it supported a 

 large population. 



When it came into the hands of the 

 Venetian Republic the trees on its 

 fine mountain slopes were ruthlessly 

 sacrificed for the ships of the con- 

 querors, the soil washed away, the 

 springs and rivers dried up ; and even 

 Syria in its desolation does not com- 

 pare with it. 



The attempts at cultivation by the 

 peasants are pitiful. As far as pos- 

 sible they collect the rocks and stones 

 in great mounds on the least desirable 

 ground of the tiny field, and where 

 they can find among the remaining 

 rocks earth enough for the roots of 

 one olive tree or even one grape vine, 

 it is planted. The chief impression, 

 even then, is of a most successful crop 

 of rocks and stones. One of the best 

 fields of grape vines I saw has the 

 appearance of a pebbly beach. In 

 that neighborhood a whole family may 

 live for a year on the product of only 

 one olive tree — so poor are they. 



After the loss of the trees arose a 

 terrible wind called the "bora," which 



blows a cutting blast for many months 

 of the year, and renders reforestation 

 almost impossible. Stories are told of 

 its overturning railroad trains, and I 

 was even told that women had to creep 

 to market on all fours. When I look- 

 ed incredulous my informant insisted 

 it was actually true. Having experi- 

 enced a mild bora, I think I can be- 

 lieve it. You can drive for miles in 

 any direction and not see ten trees na- 

 turally grown. These statements ap- 

 ply to the northern portion of Dalma- 

 tia ; further south, the bora is not so 

 strong, and cultivation is a trifle eas- 

 ier — but there is no substantial dif- 

 ference. 



jNIontenegro is about the same. 

 There the country is such a mass of 

 mountains, and the hills are so steep, 

 that the earth washed down the hill 

 sides seems to have settled in little pot- 

 holes and gradually formed a space 

 large enough to cultivate — that is, the 

 size of an ordinary dining-table. The 

 livelihood and existence of the poor 

 peasant can be better imagined than 

 described.. 



From my observation in Italy, I 

 should say that country is well on the 

 road to the same ruin as Dalmatia ; 

 but they are trying now to rescue it. 

 They have a State Director of Fores- 

 try. At present anyone's eyes can 

 see the bareness of the Appenines. 

 and the muddy rivers, the small 

 size and high price of firewood, the 

 total absence of wooden houses, and 

 the various makeshifts employed in 

 place of wood. 



