From these sterile regions it was refreshing to glance with M. Pierre de Tchihatcheff at the luxuriant flora of mountains in Asia Minor. His paper was on the geographical distribution of plants in those regions, and he described it as distinguished by a remarkable localisation or isolation of the tribes growing on the mountains. On five mountains of Armenia are found more than all the kinds of plants known in Great Britain. In Asia Minor the birch-tree lives at a height of seven thousand feet, and the remarkable atmospheric dryness of the climate is shown by the great height at which the grape flourishes. How strange it is that a mountainous region, which may well be called the Almighty's masterpiece in natural grandeur and fertility, should be politically a scene of desolation! Mr. Ball (of the Alpine Club) mentioned, at the close of the paper, the remarkable resemblance in the flora of Anatolian mountains to that localised in a mountainous region of Spain, and its pre-eminent richness in kinds.

In a paper on microscopic vision, and on some optical illusions connected with the inversion of perspective, some interesting theoretic views were brought forward by Sir David Brewster, who also exhibited some beautiful drawings by the Hon. Mrs. Ward, explanatory of the phenomena in common and in polarised light which are exhibited by the specimens of decomposed glass found at Nineveh, Rome, &c., on which specimens he had read a paper at the Aberdeen meeting. The rockcrystal lens found by Mr. Layard at Nineveh is as perfect as it was many thousand years ago, whereas the Assyrian glass that had surrendered to time was found much altered. The optical phenomena exhibited by films of pure glass from these specimens, were minutely described, and the curious question they raise as to atomic forces was discussed. As regards the optics of the photographic art, an interesting paper was read by M. Claudet on Woodward's solar camera, an improvement which he deems capable of producing results of the greatest beauty. It decides the difficult question as to the right position of the focus of the condensing lens, and by its means small negatives may produce pictures that can be magnified to any extent.

So much for the sections. The mental strain of all this scientific business was pleasantly relieved throughout the meeting by the hos pitalities of Oxford (Dr. Waagen enthusiastically declares its roast beef unequalled); there was, as already mentioned, a select evening reception at Pembroke, and there was another by Dr. Daubeny in the charming Botanical Gardens; there was an excursion to Shotover by a party of geologists, and less ardently scientific visitors formed parties innumerable to the splendid grounds and galleries of Blenheim. The association has never met at a place better suited to such a gathering than Oxford. The reader has seen what architectural lions the university can boast; and to the lovers of architecture few localities are richer in objects of interest than its vicinity. There are the monastic sites of Godstow and Abingdon, the picturesque and pleasant village of Ewelme, with the quaint and curious old buildings (in moulded brickwork and wood tracery) of the hospital known as "God's House," and the parish church, remarkable in the annals of revived ecclesiastical taste as the first church in which open benches were substituted for pews, and for its enriched south aisle, containing the fine monuments of the Duchess of Suffolk and Sir Thomas

Chaucer. Then there is Dorchester (where in Saxon times was the bishop's see, before William the Conqueror transferred it to Lincoln)-a noble old church, partly Norman, full of architectural interest, and enriched with brasses, stained glass, and ancient monuments, among which is the recumbent effigy of Chief Justice John de Stonor, who died in 1348. Near Dorchester, too, are the remains of the earthworks of a British town and Roman camp. Nearer Oxford there is the Norman church at Sandford, where once the Templars had their preceptory, and the interesting church of Iffley, over the Norman part of which seven centuries have passed, and whose tower arches, groined chancel, and Early English work are well worthy of attention. Thus, on the steepled plain of Oxford, the cultivators of natural science ever found themselves amid scenes hallowed by historic memories and characteristic of the patriotism and the devotion of our forefathers; scenes upon which (as has been truly said) it is impossible we can ever look coldly, for they seem to reanimate the life of former days, and to detain the fleeting shadows of the past, to link its noble examples with the greater refinement and more advanced knowledge of the nineteenth century, and to surround with "the impressive grandeur of historic recollections" the academic pursuits and the scientific labours of the present time.

W. S. G.

ROME AND NAPLES.

In the present enthralling interest felt for the future of Italy, with rumours rife of war, and armed intervention to prevent the free movements of the nations that are preparing the last struggle for civil and religious liberty, we need hardly apologise to our readers for introducing them to a new work by an intelligent German traveller, passages from which will, we hope, throw new and valuable light on the much-vexed question.*

Recent writers on matters Italian have naturally formed themselves into two antagonistic camps. On one side we have the Wisemans and the Maguires, in whose eyes the Pope can do no wrong, and who appear to suffer from a suppressio veri, even if we do not wish to go so far as to insinuate a suggestio falsi. These gentry, as in duty bound, give us the most glowing accounts of the present state of Rome, and the happiness of living under the gentle sway of a pontiff so mild, so amiable, and so conscientious as Pio Nono. On the other side, we have a preponderating list of authors, with M. Edmond About as their leader, who, by stern facts, seek to enlist our sympathies for a down-trodden people, and bring an incontestable weight of evidence to prove that the temporal authority of the Pope is the true cause of Italian misery. The former class of writers, we fancy, includes all those who allow others to judge for them; the latter is composed of persons who have a habit of judging for themselves. To the latter belongs the author whose work we have now under * Rom und Neapel. Von Theodor Mundt. Berlin: Otto Janke.

consideration. He has approached his task conscientiously, and collected a large amount of facts, which he lays before his readers, allowing them to judge for themselves as to the real state of Rome and Naples, two countries which have so long been held in subjection by bayonets, but whose emancipation seems close at hand. The detestation felt by Europe, however, at the barbarities of the Neapolitan court, and the efforts made by England and France to introduce necessary reforms, have led in great measure to the corruption that existed in Rome being overlooked. France alone was urgent in demanding reforms from Pio Nono, although M. Mundt explains Louis Napoleon's motives in a very different way from that usually accepted:

Reform was the Damocles' sword which Louis Napoleon suspended over the brow of the holy father. The Italian reforms which were to emanate from. Italy were a new bait of the Napoleonic government, which the emperor threw out with the certainty of catching many fish. Even though the cruel and murderous prisons of Rome did not contain behind their thick walls men more wretched than did Cayenne and Lambessa, whither the new emperor sent his dangerous subjects to perish from the pestilential climate and swamp fevers, still Louis Napoleon recognised a great danger for "civilisation" if Rome did not yield the reforms he ordered. He was well aware that he would thus produce again that Italian revolution which had already dethroned the Pope, but the Italian revolution under the protectorate of the new Napoleonic empire seemed to him a glorious snare. The reforms, to which the Pope would not listen, and which were demanded by a despot in the name of human justice and liberty, were intended to form the breach through which revolution should pour out in heavier floods than ever. For Louis Napoleon's Italian policy could only be based on revolution, just as during the honeymoon of the revolution he had rested with equal deception on the conservative and absolutistic principle, and thus offered himself as a safety-anchor to all the enemies of liberty in northern Europe. Hence the emperor would have greatly desired the new movement to commence with Rome, as the revolution must be most powerful then, and spread from this point unceasingly north and south.

France, however, has never had, since the Empire, any influence in Rome, and the presence of her bayonets was more than counterbalanced by Austrian intrigue. Just prior to the outbreak of the war, then, Louis Napoleon hit upon another clever scheme: his ambassador at Rome would undertake the management of the civil government, while his general already held all the military authority. In this way, Rome would have been converted into a French province, while Pio Nono would attend exclusively to spiritual affairs. The idea was a clever one, but it was foiled by Austria working through Cardinal Antonelli. The character of this extraordinary man has rarely been drawn so graphically as in the following extract:

The Romans ascribe all the evils, old and new, under which they suffer to Cardinal Antonelli. The perfectly illegal condition in which the States of the Church now are, is the handiwork of Antonelli, for, instead of removing old abuses, he has continually added new and worse. Not only all justice, but every liberty, the Romans further complain, has been trodden under foot by Antonelli. Misery and wretchedness have increased in the nation. Instead of public education only public ignorance is fostered, and Rome has sunk most shamefully in the arts and sciences which formerly invested it with a halo. All this Antonelli alone has done, the brown man with the wild aquiline nose, and the wolf's teeth that project menacingly from his mouth. He who is to blame for all this will soon occasion the overthrow of Rome. It is true that Anto

nelli could have let the question of reform fall through quietly, but he confessed openly and told everybody that the prosperity of Rome did not depend on reform. Antonelli was in reality a very modest man: he did not wish to be distinguished by anything new, he only wanted the old absolutism in which Rome became great and powerful, and he did not unite with it the slightest hypocrisy of liberty with which absolutistic statesmen are so fond of adorning themselves. He never told the Romans that he would make them free and happy. He pursues calmly and noiselessly the policy that everything must remain as it was, and that a nation is the happiest when sunk in the most degrading ignorance. It caused the most surprise that a practical man like Antonelli should allow the Roman code to remain on the old footing, for that is the most striking abuse of the papal administration. But how could it be expected that he who had left his friends and relations behind in the forests of Terracina should attempt to punish criminals, and free society from murderers, thieves, and other malefactors?

The state of the prisons in Rome is fearful, and the Paliano at Rome may be even compared unfavourably with the prison at Visita, where Poerio once languished. The inmates have neither table nor chair, not even the slightest article of furniture that can promote their comfort. Their food consists of a soup made of rancid bacon and oil, two loaves of black bread, each weighing nine ounces, and a disgusting beverage which is honoured with the name of wine. They have only a tin cup and a pan, in which to wash in the morning and eat at night. The cells, in which several prisoners are placed together, are so narrow that if one of them wishes to take exercise the others must lie down. The drinking water is drawn from the neighbouring dirty ditches, and filled with all sorts of abominations. Instead of windows there are holes, covered with coarse canvas, which does not keep out cold or draught, however, and hence the prisoners are never free from toothache, rheumatism, and all sorts of maladies. As a refinement of cruelty, Antonelli actually ordered one hundred common criminals to be sent down from Fort Urbano, and distributed among the political détenus.

M. About has already told us sufficiently of the miserable state of cultivation in the Papal States, and the crass ignorance of the people, but M. Mundt ascribes them both to the priesthood, and the power it holds over the family ties. Stories of criminal padres form a permanent background of Italian life. The popular fancy is constantly excited by such stories, which, with their tendency to exaggeration, they often make worse than they really are. Yet, Heaven knows! the priests are bad enough, and the revelations made in Turin have sufficiently taught us what must be the state of affairs in Rome, where every effort is made to hush up any criminality on the part of the favoured class. Latterly, however, the priest has lost much of his influence over the lower classes of Roman society. The robbers have lost their respect for them, and have quite a fancy for stealing from them. In fact, the bandits, who have attained quite a status in society, have now constituted a separate power against the Church and the laws. They are well-known persons, settled in their native villages, and generally respected; they live on the best terms with their neighbours, perhaps join the parish priest in buying a few lottery tickets; in a word, they would be most excellent fellows if they did not suffer from a mania for stopping the mail-cart at night. Fancy a country in Europe where the mail had to be protected by an escort

of gendarmes and dragoons, and that was the case prior to the annexation between Bologna, Ferrara, and Ravenna. But many places in and around Rome are just as dangerous as the highways in the Legations. The nocturnal robberies are quite common, and not so long ago a party of English were plundered to their shirts within the walls of the Coliseum. All this, however is regarded by the native population in a different way from what the stranger, who does not possess the felicity of living under the crosier, would be disposed to accept. The Italians actually complain of the barbarity of the Austrians, who, during the occupation, shot down every bandit they caught in flagrante delicto. A bandit is just as much a member of civil society as a priest or an employé, for they all rob with equal pertinacity. In what did the rape of little Mortara differ, after all, from the robbery of the mail bags? An Italian robber, even when locked up in prison, enjoys a great popularity in the country, and his name is constantly repeated as that of a most meritorious man. In his prison he receives visitors from near and far, and people flock in to express their admiration and sympathy for the man who is martyr to the law. Such a man is the celebrated bandit Galafredo, who has been for a long time confined in the fortress of Civita Vecchia, where his family were compelled to share his imprisonment. He receives all travellers who send in their names to him, and he does so in the full feeling of his value and dignity, for Galafredo is vain. He has in his day committed a series of atrocities which rendered him the terror of the highways and forests, but was at length compelled to surrender to the Papal government. He is still a finelooking fellow, wearing a red velvet jacket, adorned with all sorts of finery, while his family are in rags. He spends nearly all his visitors give him on dress, and his eyes flash with delight when any one says of him, "Galafredo looks like a king !" His great popularity may be ascribed, however, to the way in which he performed his achievements. He never assailed the poor, but practised his devices exclusively on the rich. Galafredo declared that he never killed any one who did not offer him open resistance. On the other hand, he murdered every priest he came across, and this is a tragic feature which stands out from his life history; while, on the other hand, it proves that the elements of clericality and robbery are nearly always in contact in Italy. Galafredo loved in his youth a girl, but, at the same time, suspected her of a liaison with a priest. He watched him, and one fine day stabbed him to the heart, as he was kissing the girl. Thereupon Galafredo fled to the mountains, and began to carry on the only trade now left him.

Galafredo had originally been tooth-drawer in his village, and gained a great and widely-extended reputation in that profession. This renown almost rivalled his new character as bandit, although he soon made himself greatly respected in the latter character. Never had so many priests been found murdered on the highway, and yet, when it was known that Galafredo was in the neighbourhood, anybody suffering from toothache was delighted to send for him. Galafredo would descend from the mountain with perfect equanimity, pull out the offending tooth, and receive his fee, no one having a thought to stop him on such an occasion. Even the gendarmes did not interfere with him when they found him peaceably carrying on his vocation in the village: a terrible but true image of modern Italy!