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THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



among their dark neighbors. Cool, tem- 

 perate exotics they are among the higher 

 colored growths that somehow seem so 

 tropical, with their sultry smiles and fath- 

 omless, mysterious eyes, in which forever 

 broods the shadow of the purple moun- 

 tains that always and everywhere domi- 

 nate all Italy, even to the delightful Cara- 

 binieri, or Rural Guards, those Napole- 

 onic-looking officials who parade always 

 solemnly in pairs, hangers at their sides, 

 cockades on their black beavers, the maj- 

 esty of the law in every line and footstep. 



A TAEE OF REMARKABLE PROGRESS 



Suggestive of comic opera though the 

 Carabinieri seem, they are nevertheless 

 most devoted fellows and absolutely es- 

 sential to the maintenance of order. The 

 condition of the mass of the Italian peo- 

 ple is still far from happy and disorders 

 are frequent, though rarely fatal when 

 the paired guards are within range. Italy, 

 it must not be forgotten, is largely an ag- 

 ricultural country, with the farm hands 

 making up a third of the total population. 

 Their lot is hard because of the agricul- 

 tural conditions and the ignorance of the 

 masses. 



Nevertheless, since the Italians became 

 a nation, half a century ago, there has 

 been amazing progress in every direction. 

 Agricultural methods have vastly im- 

 proved, agricultural production doubled, 

 and manufacturing to a most gratifying 

 extent taken the place of importation. In 

 fact, Italy is now among the exporting 

 nations, and the rapid growth of her in- 

 dustrial enterprises bids fair to make her, 

 as an English writer points out, as highly 

 organized and efficient, in a manufactur- 

 ing sense, as was Belgium prior to 1914. 



Italian emigration is due largely to 

 overpopulation, and the consequent over- 

 supply of labor at very low rates, rather 

 than to the agricultural conditions, while 

 the progress made in public education has 

 been so wonderful as to give sound basis 

 for the hope that within a reasonable 

 time illiteracy will be as negligible in Italy 

 as it is in the United States. Public 

 schools maintained by the communes. 

 with State help where necessary, have 

 already diminished illiteracy from 73 per 

 cent in 1871 to about 44 per cent in 191 1 



(the last official census). Despite the 

 brilliant progress achieved in only forty 

 years, this figure is appalling. 



Notwithstanding, the poorest Italian 

 has the sun in his eyes and the geniality 

 of the gods in his smile, while his fatal- 

 istic stoicism and keen sense of humor 

 are something never to be forgotten. I 

 remember, after the Vesuvian eruption 

 of 1906, seeing a man whose home had 

 been destroyed and the work of a life- 

 time obliterated calmly cooking a meal of 

 potatoes and chestnuts over a hot spot in 

 the lava stream that had overwhelmed his 

 place. "Gia ! I have a fine stove now I" 

 was his dry comment. 



THE BEGINNINGS OF ITAEY 



So far as general world interest is con- 

 cerned, the story of Italy begins its im- 

 portance with the period made historic 

 by the advent of the Greeks in the vici- 

 nage of what is now Naples. This was 

 a neighborhood doomed at the very be- 

 ginning to be fatal to every race that 

 spread about the shores of its exquisite 

 bay. The beauty of the scenery, with the 

 vast black and green Vesuvius gemming 

 it ominously ; the mild and sunny climate 

 of dolce far niente; the soft and per- 

 fumed airs, all strongly predisposed the 

 sternest men to languor and voluptuous- 

 ness. Not a single one of the nations 

 who have left us memories of their so- 

 journs about the dimpling bay could with- 

 stand these lethal influences, or became 

 sufficiently acclimated in all the long cen- 

 turies to leave us one great and enduring 

 monument. 



To find "the glory that was Greece," 

 one must go southward for 60 miles along 

 the scalloped green and silver strand that 

 borders the azure sea to Psestum, the 

 Poseidonia of Greek days. The same 

 dazzling sunshine the worshipers of Po- 

 seidon, or Neptune, knew pours down its 

 glorious flood upon temple ruins so ma- 

 jestic and sublime, so quick with the 

 austere loftiness of soul that marked their 

 builders, we wonder that anything ever 

 could have happened to obliterate the city 

 which Herodotus tells us flourished five 

 centuries and a half before our era be- 

 gan : a garden city, a city still, in the time 

 of the great Latin poets, wreathed and 



