Fig. 81.—THE GULF OF SPEZIA.

From the Sardinian Staff Map. Scale 1 : 80,000.

In the meantime Genoa is expanding in all directions. Its factories of macaroni, paper, silks and velvets, soap, oil, jewellery, metal-work, pottery, ornamental flowers, and other objects are ever increasing; and ovrar del Genoes—Genoese {237} industry—is a marvel now, as it was in the Middle Ages. San Pier d’Arena (Sampierdarena), to the west, has become a veritable manufacturing town. Cornigliano, Rivarolo, Sestri di Ponente with its large ship-yards, Pegli, and Voltri are populous towns, having spinning-mills and foundries. Savona, whose port was {238} filled up by the jealous Genoese, occupies the bottom of a vast bay. It has glass-works and potteries, and is connected by a railway with Turin. Elsewhere on the Riviera di Ponente the towns are crowded closely together. Such is the case with the twin cities of Oneglia and Porto Maurizio, the one built on the beach, the other on a steep hill close by, and known as the “Fountains of Oil,” because of their extensive plantations of olives. At San Remo, however, olives are more plentiful still.[80]

On the Riviera di Levante town joins town like pearls in a necklace. Albaro, with its charming mansion, Quarto, whence departed the expedition which took Sicily from the Bourbons, and Nervi, a health resort for persons suffering from pulmonary diseases, constitute a long-stretching suburb of Genoa, extending in the direction of Recco and Camogli, two towns abounding in shipping. The rocky promontory of Porto Fino, thus named after the dolphins which formerly frequented it, imposes an insurmountable obstacle to the further extension of Genoa in this direction. Having traversed the tunnel leading through this promontory, we reach another group of towns, viz. Rapallo, the industrious; Chiavari, a great place of trade; Lavagna, with its famous quarries of grey slates; and Sestri di Levante, a town of fishermen.

The coast beyond Sestri is but sparsely inhabited, for there bold cliffs approach the sea; but having doubled the superb cape of Porto Venere, we enter the fine Gulf of Spezia,[81] with its numerous forts, ship-yards, arsenals, and other buildings. The Italian Government has been busy ever since 1861 in converting this gulf into a first-rate naval arsenal, but no sooner has a portion of the work been completed than the progress made in the arts of destruction compels the engineers to remodel it—a very costly task. Whatever future may be in store for Spezia as a military port, it has none as a commercial one, for though it affords excellent shelter to vessels, no railway connects it with the fertile countries beyond the Apennines, and its exports are limited to the produce of the valleys in its immediate vicinity. Spezia is indebted for its high rank amongst the cities of Italy to its beautiful gulf, the rival of the Bay of Naples and the roadstead of Palermo. From the summit of the marble hill above the decayed town of Porto Venere we look down upon a marvellous succession of bays and promontories, and far in the distance the mountains of Corsica rise indistinctly above the blue waters. Looking to the east, we behold the picturesque towns on the opposite side of the gulf embedded in groves of olive-trees and cypresses, the Apuanic Alps and the Apennines bounding the horizon. Right opposite is the charming town of Lerici, and to the south of it the shore upon which Byron reduced to ashes the body of his friend Shelley: no spot more appropriate for this mournful holocaust. {239}

IV.—TUSCANY.

Tuscany, like Liguria, lies on the southern slope of the Apennines, but is of far greater width, for that back-bone of Italy retreats there from the Gulf of Genoa, and stretches right across the broadest part of the peninsula to the Adriatic. Besides this there are several detached plateaux and mountain ranges to the south of the valley of the Arno.[82]

The Apennines of Tuscany are of very unequal height, and they are traversed by numerous low passes, which could easily be converted into carriage roads. Speaking generally, they consist of a series of elongated and parallel mountain masses, separated from each other by valleys, through which flow the head-streams of the Serchio and the Arno. The first important mountain mass of the main chain near the frontiers of Liguria, which is commanded by the Orsajo and Succiso, is thus separated by the valley of the Magra from the parallel range of Lumigiana. The chain of Garfognana, to the north of the plains of Lucca, has for its pendant the Alps of Apuana. Monte Cimone, farther east, and the other summits of the Alpe Apennina to the north of Pistoja and Prato, are attended by the parallel ridges of the Monti Catini and Monte Albano, on whose slope is the famous grotto of Monsummano, with a thermal spring. A fourth mountain mass, that which the direct road from Florence to Bologna crosses in the Pass of Futa, has likewise its lateral chains, viz. the Monte Mugello, to the south of the Sieve; the Prato Magno, encircled by the Upper Arno; and the Alps of Catenaja, between the Arno and the Tiber.[83]

The Apennines of Tuscany in many places attain a height of 5,000 feet, and are quite Alpine in their aspect, the upper slopes remaining covered with snow for more than half the year. They owe much of their grandeur to the precipitous slopes and fantastic profiles of the calcareous rocks which enter so largely into their composition. The forests of chestnuts, firs, and beeches which formerly clothed the whole of the range have not yet been entirely destroyed. The beautiful woods which cover the slopes of Prato Magno have impressed the mind of many a poet; and, since Milton sang the delights of Vallombrosa, the “shaded vale” has become a proverbial name for everything sweet and touching in the poetry of nature. Farther to the west the monastery of the Campo di Maldulo (Camaldoli) occupies one of the most beauteous spots in all Italy, the woods and meadows of which have been celebrated by Ariosto. From the summit above the convent both the “Tuscan and the Slavonian Sea” can be seen, as that poet tells us.