... apart and alone, like a solitary remnant of outer battlement left standing beside a razed fortress; it rises to a height of at least 250 feet above the grass at its base. Seen thus in profile, it is difficult to believe that it is the same Sasso di Ronch which one has been looking at from below. It looks like a mere aiguille or spire, disproportionately slender for its height, and curved at the top as if just ready to pitch over. Some one has compared the Matterhorn to the head and neck of a war-horse rearing up behind the valley of Zermatt; so might the Sasso di Ronch from this point be compared to the head and neck of a giraffe. Standing upon its knife-edge of ridge—all precipice below, all sky above, the horizon one long sweep of jagged peaks—it makes as wild and weird a subject as ever I sat down to sketch before or since. (A Midsummer Ramble in the Dolomites, Amelia B. Edwards.)
The wild confusion of some parts of the Dolomites, their rent and torn spires, cannot be attributed to volcanic origin, for limestone is not volcanic; the greater part of the gigantic carving must have been done by the slow agencies of wind and weather and rain working on silently through age after age, and in some cases by earthquakes, which have overthrown the precariously-balanced needles and solid blocks of stone. One curious peak, which, though attaining to no great height (9833 feet) is well known owing to its odd form, is the Drei Zinnen or Three Peaks, rising like three pointing fingers of a giant hand. Miss Edwards’ description can hardly be improved upon. She says:
As for the Drei Zinnen, they surpass in boldness and weirdness all the Dolomites of the Ampezzo. Seen through an opening between two wooded hills, they rise abruptly from behind the intervening plateau of Monte Piana, as if thrust up from the centre of the earth, like a pair of tusks. No mere description can convey, to even the most apprehensive reader, any correct impression of their outline, their look of intense energy, of upwardness, of bristling irresistible force. Two barren isolated obelisks of pale sulphurous orange-streaked limestone, all shivered into keen scimitar-blades and shark-like teeth toward the summit, they almost defy the pencil and quite defy the pen.
THE DREI ZINNEN, FROM THE HIGHEST RIDGE
Those who have spent an exhilarating holiday among these enchanting hills will know the freshness of the pure air, the stillness of the vast solitudes—home of the eagle and chamois—also the comfort of the rude huts provided by the Alpine Club, where one may shelter and find warmth and food, paying as he deems right; they will remember days spent on the glittering glaciers with their treacherous slopes, in view of the ever-changing ever-new outlines of the tempestuous peaks in their grotesque formations. No place on earth will ever draw them back as does the Dolomites, no other can evoke quite the same sensations as when they gaze on those startling contours or catch their breath to see the fiery glow rising over a foreground of blue-black firs.
One of the most important of the later improvements is the Dolomitenstrasse of which the last part was opened in 1909. It leads through beautiful mountain scenery and over three passes from Botzen to Cortina, and thence from Cortina to Falzarego. From Botzen it follows the Brenner road to Kardaun, and then turns into the magnificent gorge of the Eggental which separates the Latemar group from the Rosengarten group. This is now one of the most frequented parts of the Dolomites, with the beautiful blue-green lake of Karer, over which the Latemar towers with its slender peaks. The road ascends over the green Alps of the Karer Pass. There are large hotels in all these places now, and the Tyrolean red wine, at about twopence for a half-pint, is served in them, also home-brewed beer as well as the familiar Munich or Pilsener.
CHAPTER XV
THE ILLYRIAN STATE
The name Illyria is a very ancient one, going back to centuries B.C., when the lands bordering the Adriatic on the eastern side were thus known. The boundaries of this state are uncertain and indeterminate, and varied greatly from time to time. Strabo, the ancient historian, mentions the country, saying that the coast-line was fertile and well supplied with harbours but that the people were barbarous and warlike. They are also described as tattooing their bodies and offering human sacrifices to their deities, but in a year given at various dates B.C. Illyria was made a Roman province and even became one of the four chief divisions of the Empire. The fine qualities of the men made the country a good recruiting-ground for the Roman army, and many of the Illyrians rose to the purple, Claudius, Aurelian, Probus, Diocletian, and Maximian all being among the number. With the fall of the Empire the province lost its hold and was ravaged by the Goths. Then the Slavs and Huns began to occupy the northern land and push further and further south, and as the small Slavonic states became consolidated, they fell off from the central authority.
