We are able to extract from historical recitals an exact idea of the Frankish woman. She was powerful, and wore a long robe of dark colour, or bordered with purple. Her arms were left uncovered, and her head was wreathed with flowering broom. Her looks, sometimes fierce, bespoke masculine vigour and a character which did not shrink from sanguinary conflict.

The Celtic and Iberian languages gradually disappeared among the Franks, being replaced by Latin dialects.

The Gauls and Franks, who were subdued by the Romans, received into their blood the Latin element, which rapidly increased. Restrained for a while by the invasions of tribes from the north and east, by Asiatic hordes of Mongolian race, among which we may name the Huns; the Latin element again assumed the ascendant at the commencement of the sixteenth century; men and manners, language and art, bore witness more and more to Latin influence: the fair hair and white skin of the Frank alternating with the black locks and brown skin of the Latin people. Thus it is that the French lost the athletic frame and vigorous limbs of the Gaul, gaining in their stead the suppleness and agility of southern nations. Thus also the French language became gradually formed, modified from Latin dialects.

The existence of a single written language renders it difficult to mark the characteristic distinctions among the French of the present day. We may however, distinguish the French properly so called, who inhabit the lower district of the Loire, and whose dialects are most akin to the written language; the Walloons, in the north, whose pronunciation somewhat approaches that of Teutonic nations; and the Romanians, in the south, where the dialects become confused with those of the Spaniards and Italians. The French of the interior are those who most resemble the Celts; those of the south possess the vivacity of the ancient Iberians or Basques; and those of the north have suffered still more from Teutonic influence, the effect of which is more especially appreciable in Normandy.

Owing to the diversity of his origin, and the different races of men which have been moulded into his type, not omitting also the effect attributed to the great geological variety of the soil of France, where samples of all parts of the earth are to be found, the Frenchman, considered organically, possesses no peculiar physiognomy, which nevertheless does not prevent the complete identification of his French nationality.

From a physical point of view, and setting aside certain extremes, it may be said that the Frenchman is characterised, not so much by special features, as by the mobility and expression of these features. He is neither large nor small, yet his body is in all respects well proportioned; and although he may not be capable of developing great muscular action, he is fully qualified to contend successfully against fatigue and long journeys. Agile and nervous, as prompt in attack as in parrying a blow, full of expedient, supple, and cheerful, skilful both physically and morally, this is the character we shall easily recognise in our typical soldier of the next page.

Considered intellectually, the Frenchman is distinguished by a readiness and activity of conception which is truly unsurpassed. His comprehension is quick and sound. A halo of feeling surrounds this intellectual activity. Add to this a very fair amount of reason, solid judgment, and a veritable passion for order and method, and you have the French character.

To this combination of various qualities must be referred the respect which the French nation entertain for science and art, the admirable order which is found in their museums, and the excellent preservation of their historical monuments. This also goes to explain their excellent organization for public instruction, both in art and science, the forbearing and kindly tone of their philosophy, which above all things seeks the practical rules which govern human action, their excellent judicial system and admirable civil code, which has been copied more or less by all the nations of the New or Old Worlds.

Although the Frenchman respects science, loves the arts, and takes an interest in the productions of thought, it must be admitted that he is loth to take any personal part in them. He is glad to make use of the practical applications of science, and gratefully acknowledges the service they render him; but he shuns the idea of studying the sciences as such, and the very name of savant conveys to his mind a tiresome person. The sciences, which at the end of the last century brought so much honour to France, now languish. Scientific careers are avoided, and in the country of Lavoisier, Laplace, and Cuvier, science is visibly on the decline.

To make science palatable to French readers, the edge of the cup must be coated with honey, and the preceptor must clearly comprehend what dose of the sweetened beverage he may administer, so as not to overtax the powers or present humour of his patient.

We may say the same of the liberal arts. The Frenchman takes delight in artistic works, in fine monuments and buildings, costly statuary, magnificent pictures, engravings, and all the productions of high art; but he does nothing whatever to encourage them. France is at the present day at the head of the fine arts, and her school of painting is without a rival; and yet her artists, whether they be painters or sculptors, must seek elsewhere an outlet for their talents.

In France, the people are content with rendering a formal homage to the merit of their works of art, and leave to the government the task of encouraging and propagating them.

This encouragement consists in an annual exhibition of their paintings and sculptures, entry to this exhibition being obtained only by payment. When it is over, the various works are returned to their authors, and medals of different value assist the public to appreciate the excellence of their productions.

In France, then, the people are, properly speaking, neither studious nor artistic: they merely profess great esteem for the arts and sciences, and render them homage without the least wish to know more of them or an attempt to further their cultivation.

A very excellent quality of the French nation is its sociability. Whilst the English and Germans shut themselves up in their houses with misanthropical concern, the Frenchman prefers to share his dwelling, to inhabit a sort of hive, in which the same roof shelters a large number of individuals of all ages and conditions. He can thus perform and exchange many services, and, while living his own form of existence, enjoy that of others. See how, in French villages, the houses are grouped together or placed back to back, or, in the large towns, those houses where fifty lodgers hardly separated from one another by a scanty partition, have one common domestic, the porter, and you will at one recognize the instinct of sociability, and external affability, which is peculiar to the French nation. The readiness which each manifests to render the little services of life, to aid a wounded person, or assist in extricating his neighbour from embarrassment, are all signs of the same praiseworthy spirit of sociability.

The delicacy of feeling and thought, the extraordinary taste for order and method, and the love of art, which characterize the French nation, are all to be encountered in their various industrial products. A feeling for art is essentially characteristic of French industry, and gives it that well-known good taste, distinction, and elegance, which are so justly appreciated.

Although he is neither student nor artist, the Frenchman knows therefore perfectly how to call science and art to his aid, demand their co-operation and inspiration, and transfer them with advantage into practice. Thanks to his instinct for order and method, he succeeds in drawing material profit from studious or sentimental subjects.

Having considered the bright side of the French nation, we will now see where they are deficient.

It is a recognized fact, that, among the French, one-third of the men and more than half the women can neither read nor write: this is equivalent to saying, that of the thirty-eight millions of individuals composing the population of France, fifteen millions can neither read nor write.

The French peasant does not read, and for a very good reason. On Sunday he has read to him extracts from the Almanack of Pierre Larrivay, of Matthieu Laensberg, or some other prophet of the same cloth, who foretells what is about to happen on each day of the year; and this is as much as he wants. La Bruyère drew of the French peasant in the time of Louis XIV. a forcible and sinister picture, which in many cases is true even at the present day: in the course of two centuries, the subject has altered but little.[5]

The French artisan reads very little. Works of popular science, which for some years past have happily been edited in France, are not read, as is imagined, by the working classes: those who seek works of this class are persons who have already received a certain amount of instruction, which they desire to increase by extending it to other branches of knowledge; these, for the greater part, include school-children, and persons, belonging to the different liberal professions, or engaged in commerce.

The bourgeois, who has some spare time, devotes a portion of it to reading, but he does not read books. In France, books are objects of luxury, used only by persons of refinement. The crowd, when they see a man go by with a book under his arm, regard him with respectful curiosity. Enter the houses, even those of the most wealthy, and you will meet with everything which is necessary for the comforts of life, every article of furniture which may be called for, but you will seldom or never find a library. Whilst in Germany, England, and Russia, it is thought indispensable, in France a library is almost unknown.

The French bourgeois reads only the papers. Unfortunately, French journals have always been devoted to politics. Literature and art, science and philosophy, nay, even commercial and current affairs, that is, all which go to make up the life and interests of a nation, are excluded with most jealous care from the greater part of the French journals, to make way for political subjects. Thus it is that politics, the most superfluous and barren of subjects, have become among the French the great and only object of consideration.

The press which indulges in light literature is much worse. Its articles are founded on old compilations. The bons-mots of the Marquis of Bièvre are borrowed from Bièvriana, and laid at the door of M. de Tillancourt; then Mlle. X. des Variétés is made the heroine of an anecdote borrowed from the Encyclopediana, and the trick is complete. The paper is sold at a sou, and is not worth a liard.

The papers are the chief means by which the French bourgeois stuff their heads with emptiness.

The weakness of instruction in France becomes still more apparent by comparison with that of other nations. Traverse all Switzerland, and in every house you will find a small library. In Prussia it is a most rare matter to find a person who cannot read; in that country instruction is obligatory. In Austria every one can read. In Norway and Denmark, the lowest of the peasantry can read and write their language with accuracy; while in the extreme north, in Iceland, that country given up to the rigours of eternal cold, which is, as it were, a dead spot in nature, prints are numerous. We need not say that the English and Americans are far in advance of the French as regards instruction. Nay, more, all the Japanese can read and write, as also all the inhabitants of China proper.

Let us hope that this sad condition of things will change, when, in France, gratuitous and obligatory instruction has become the law.

Uninstructed and unambitious of learning, timid artisan and plodding husbandman though he be, the Frenchman has yet one ruling virtue. He is a soldier; he possesses all the qualities necessary for war—bravery, intelligence, quickness of conception, the sentiment of discipline, and even patience when it is called for. If in 1870 a combination of deplorable fatalities forced the French to yield to the dictates of a people, who even yet wonder at their victory, the reputation of the French soldier for bravery and intelligence has in no way suffered by this unforeseen check. The day for revenge upon the barbarians of the north will come sooner or later.

Another peculiarity of the French nation is their spirit of criticism and satire. If, in the days of Beaumarchais, everything in France closed with a song, nothing at the present day is complete without a joke.

There is nothing which the French spirit of satire has not turned to ridicule. In the art of the pencil it has created la charge, namely, the caricature of what is beautiful, and the hideous exaggeration of every physical imperfection; on the stage it has introduced la cascade, a public parody bringing before the audience in an absurd manner, history, literature, and men of distinction; in the dance, it has given birth to the obscene and nameless thing which is composed of the contortions of fools, and which with strangers passes as a national dance.

The French woman is perfectly gifted in what concerns intelligence; she possesses a ready conception, a lively imagination, and a cheerful disposition. Unfortunately, the burthen of ignorance presses sorely upon her. It is a rare thing for a woman of the people to read, as only those of the higher classes have leisure, during their girlhood, to cultivate their minds. And yet even they must not give themselves up too much to study, nor aspire to honour or distinction. The epithet bas bleu (blue stocking) would soon bring them back to the common crowd—an ignorant and frivolous feminine mass. Molière’s lines in Les Femmes Savantes, which for two centuries have operated so sadly in disseminating ignorance throughout one half of French society, would be with one voice applied to them.

With this ill-advised tirade, persons who think themselves perfectly right, stifle the early inclinations of young girls and women, which would induce them to open their minds to notions of literature, science, and art.

A question was once put forward whether we should permit our young women to share the education which the University affords to young men. We are speaking of the courses which were to have been held by the college of professors, according to the plans proposed by M. Duruy. But this attempt at the intellectual emancipation of young girls was very soon suppressed. Being barely tolerated at Paris, these courses were soon interdicted in the departmental towns, and woman soon returned to the knee of the church, or, in other words, was brought back to ignorance and superstition.

This want of instruction in the French woman is the more to be regretted, since, to an excellent intellectual disposition, she adds the irresistible gifts of grace and physical charms. There is in her face a seduction which cannot be equalled, although we can assign her physiognomy to no determinate type. Her features, frequently irregular, seem to be borrowed from different races; they do not possess that unity which springs from calm and majesty, but are in the highest degree expressive, and marvellously contrived for conveying every shade of feeling. In them we see a smile, though it be shaded by tears; a caress, though they threaten us; and an appeal when yet they command. Amid the irregularity of this physiognomy the soul displays its workings.

As a rule, the French woman is short of stature, but in every proportion of her form combines grace and delicacy. Her extremities and joints are fine and elegant, of perfect model and distinct form, without a suspicion of coarseness. With her, moreover, art is brought wonderfully to assist nature.

There is no place in the world where the secret of dress is so well understood as in France, or where means are so admirably applied to the rectification of natural defects of form or colour. Add to this a continual desire to charm and please, an anxious care to attract and attach the hearts of others through simplicity or coquetry, good will or malice, the wish to radiate everywhere pleasure and life, the noble craving to awake grand or touching thoughts, and you will understand the universal and charming rule which woman has always held in France, and a great portion of the influence which she perforce retains over men and things.

All these qualities, which distinguish the women of the higher classes in France, are met with also among those of the working classes. Their industrious hands excel in needlework. They make their own clothing, and that of their children; look to the household linen, make their own bonnets, and most effectually cause elegance and taste to thrive in the heart of poverty. The correctness of their judgment, their tact and delicacy, and their rare penetration, are of valuable assistance in commercial matters, where their just appreciation affords most useful aid to their husbands and children. In retail trade especially, do these qualities shine forth—order, sagacity, and patience. Their politeness and presence of mind charm the purchaser, who always finds what he wants, and is always in good humour with himself and the articles he obtains.

The French women excel in household duties and in bringing up their children. These graceful and sweet young girls become mothers whose patience is inexhaustible, and make of their home the most perfect resting-place, and the best refuge from the sufferings and hardships of life.

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Hispanians.—Under this name we include the Spaniards and Portuguese.

The Hispanians result from the mixture of the Latins, with the Celts, whom they succeeded in Spain, and with the Teutons, who drove out the Romans.

Washed on three sides by the sea, divided from France on the north by the Pyrenees, and from Africa on the south by a narrow stretch of sea, Spain is crossed by ranges of mountains, which, by their various intersections, form valleys permitting only of difficult communication with each other. The mountains of Spain are one of the principal causes of the richness of this country. They contain a variety of precious metals, and the streamlets which flow from their summits fertilize the valleys and develop into large rivers.

The climate of Spain indicates the vicinity of Africa. The air during winter, is cold, dry, and sharp: during the summer it is scorching. The leaves of the trees are stiff and shining, the branches knotty and contorted, the bark dry and rugged. The fruits mingle with their perfume a sharp and acid flavour: the animals are lean and wild.

Nature therefore in Spain is somewhat violent and rude, and this characteristic is peculiar to the people of the country.

The Spaniard, like the African, is in general of moderate height. His skin is brown, and his limbs are muscular, compact, and supple. In a moral sense, passion with him obtains the mastery; indeed it is quite impossible for him to master or dissemble his feelings. He is not afraid to allow their workings to become evident, but, in their display, if they meet with curiosity or admiration, he passes all bounds and becomes a perfect spectacle. A Spaniard always allows his feelings to be plainly perceptible.

This habitual weakness for scenic display which in a people possessing evil instincts would be excessively inconvenient, produces in the Spaniard the best results, since at heart he is full of generosity and nobleness. It endows him with pride, from which spring exalted feelings and good actions; emulation, which prompts him to outdo himself; a moral tone, generosity, dignity, and discretion. Nowhere are better understood than in Spain the regard due to age or sex, and the respect called for by rank or position.

The love of distinction, place, and grade is an inevitable consequence of this state of feeling.

The pride of the Spaniard renders him very tenacious as regards his honour. He brooks not insult, and seeks to requite it with bloodshed. His hand flies to the sword which is to avenge his honour, or the knife which is to settle his disputes (fig. 19).

In Spain arms are carried by all, and their habitual contact—too much neglected in other countries—imparts to each the desire for glory or the hope of playing a leading part in the world.

Such being his disposition, the Spaniard cannot fail to make an excellent soldier. Besides having taste and aptitude for the use of arms, he is vigorous, agile, and patient; and therefore worthy to be named honorably in comparison with the French soldier. It is, however, difficult to preserve discipline among these fiery and independent men. They are not always easy to command in time of regular warfare, and when times become troublesome, they become rapidly converted into guerillas, a term which is almost synonymous with brigand.

The use of arms being familiar to every Spaniard, there is a great temptation to use them, and passion frequently creates an opportunity. Therefore it is that Spain is essentially a land of civil war.

On the most simple question arising, the peasant seizes his gun and rushes to an ambuscade, or joins a band of insurgents.

Political insurrections are an amusement to this impressionable and hasty people. In the twinkling of an eye bands of armed men overrun the country. The great want of discipline among the soldiers and non-commissioned officers, conduces to desertion to these irregular bodies, and the result is that unhappy Spain is continually in a state of local insurrection, the suppression of which invariably leads to bloodshed without producing any permanent settlement.

The passion which a Spaniard evinces in all he does, is not wanting in his religion. His piety is exalted, and the violence to which this piety frequently leads him, has had mournful results. It is this religious fury which accounts for the cruelty of the Spaniards to the Saracens and Jews; and which, later on, lit the faggots of the Inquisition, and produced the most savage intolerance. Spain has burnt, in the name of a God of peace and love, thousands of innocent creatures; and for the honour and good of the Catholic faith, has proscribed, strangled, and tortured.

This passionate exaggeration of Catholicism has proved the ruin of Spain in modern times. It is marvellous to see how this nation, so powerful in the sixteenth century, and which, under Charles V., dictated laws to all Europe, has fallen; until at the present day, it ranks among the states of the lowest class in this part of the world. But it will be seen that the multiplication of convents, both for men and women, has had the effect of rapidly depopulating the country; that the proscription of the Moors, the Jews, and lastly, of the Protestants, has proved destructive of productive industry; that the courts of the Inquisition, and the auto-da-fé, have led to a feeling of sadness and mistrust among the people; that the abuse of religion and its symbols, has produced a bigotry which can be likened only to idolatry; and that the fear of offending an intolerant and self-asserting religion, has arrested all moral progress, and effectually set aside all development of science, which of necessity presupposes free investigation.

This is how progress, activity, and thought, have met with their end, and how material prosperity has become extinguished in that portion of Europe, most marvellously endowed with natural gifts. Thus it is that commerce has become a bye-word in a land, whose geographical position is unrivalled, and which possessed in the New World the most flourishing and powerful colonies; and that literature and science, the two great words which indicate liberty and progress, have fallen away in the home of Michael Cervantes.

How is Spain to recover her former splendour? What remedies must be applied to these crying evils? We reply, religious toleration, and political liberty.

The type of the Spanish woman is so well known, that we need hardly recall it. She is generally brunette, although the blond type occurs much more frequently than is usually supposed. The Spanish woman is almost always small of stature. Who has not observed her large eyes, veiled by thick lashes, her delicate nose, and well-formed nostrils. Her form is always undulating and graceful; her limbs are round and beautifully moulded, and her extremities of incomparable delicacy. She is a charming mixture of vigour, languor, and grace.

Love is the great object of the Spanish woman. She loves with passion but with constancy, and the jealousy she feels is but the legitimate compensation for the attachment she bestows.

The Spanish woman, faithful as a wife, is an excellent mother. Few women can equal her as a nurse, or in the attention and patience which are called for by the care of children. The mother lavishes upon her young family her whole life, and if she fails to instruct them, it is, alas! that she lacks the power to do so; for she is no better educated than the French woman, and, as regards ignorance, is a meet companion for her in every respect.

We have said that, in France, women exercise a very manifest influence upon the course of events. The Spanish woman is not, however, in possession of this useful influence. She commands the attention of those around her only during the short period of her beauty. When, arrived at maturity, her judgment formed by experience, and her views enlarged by observation or practice, she might soothe the passion of her friends, assist them with her counsel, or unite them around her hearth, the Spanish woman retires into obscurity, and the knowledge she has gained is lost to society.

Having thus given a general view of Spanish manners, we will say something with respect to the most characteristic physiognomies of this country.

The Moorish type is met with in a marked degree in the province of Valencia. The peasants have swarthy complexions. Their head-dress consists of a handkerchief in bright colours, rolled around the head and rising to a point: strongly reminding the observer of the turban worn by Eastern nations. They sometimes wear, in addition to this, a hat formed of felt and black velvet, with the edges turned up. On fête-days they don a waistcoat of green or blue velvet, with numerous buttons formed of silver or plated copper. In lieu of trowsers, they wear full drawers of white cloth, which reach as far as the knees, and are kept up by a broad belt of silk or brightly striped wool. The hose consist of gaiters, kept in place by means of a broad blue riband wound round the leg. A long piece of woollen material, striped with bright colours, is thrown over the shoulders or wound round the body: this is the cloak.

The peasants are to be seen to best advantage in the market-place, whither they bring their oranges, grapes, and dates.

The women of Valencia are sometimes of remarkable beauty. Their black hair is rolled into bunches above the temples, and carried to the back of the head, where it forms an enormous chignon, through which passes a long needle of silver-gilt.

In some of the preceding cuts we have given the costumes of the inhabitants of Valencia, Xeres, Cordova, Toledo, and Madrid, as also types of Spanish physiognomy.

In Spain, dancing is a national feature. The dance scarcely varies in different provinces, but generally reflects the character of the people, who accompany it with songs and national melodies. They can hardly have enough of singing and dancing the Fandango (fig. 23), and the Bolero (fig. 24).

Portugal abuts on Spain, and its people merit some portion of our consideration.

The Portuguese women are frequently pretty, and sometimes actually beautiful. They have abundant hair, their eyes are earnest, soft, and penetrating, and their teeth excellent. Their feet are rather large, but their hands are very delicate. Their forms are well set, and strongly, though somewhat sturdily built; their joints are small, their complexion sallow, their movements are confident. Their well shaped heads are well placed, and the modest ease with which they wear the short jupon and broad felt hat, imparts to these articles of dress a certain elegance.

The inhabitants of Ponte de Lima are of small stature, and possess fine vigorous forms. The country people are worthy of special notice, they make brave and steady soldiers, who are easily amenable to discipline, and robust and intelligent workmen.

There is nothing very noteworthy about the dress of the peasantry, except as regards that of the women. The petticoat is plaited, short, and sometimes rolled up, so as to expose to view their legs, which are usually bare. The bodice, which is furnished with two or three silver buttons, displays the form. Being separated from the petticoat, it permits the chemise to puff out around the body, while the sleeves of that garment are wide and usually worn turned up. The head-dress consists of a large black felt hat, frequently adorned with bows of ribbon, and almost always furnished with a white kerchief, the folds of which fall down over the neck and shoulders. Long earrings, and even necklaces and chains of gold, complete the picturesque costume in which yellow, red, and bright green, predominate.

The streets of Oporto are much enlivened by the appearance of the peasants in their various brilliant dresses, who there vend oranges, vegetables, cheese, or flowers.

Fig. 25 represents the costume of fishmongers at Oporto.

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Italians. No part of Europe can be compared with Italy, for softness of climate, clearness of the sky, fertility of the soil, and pureness of the atmosphere. The soil, which is very undulating, is watered by numerous streams, and permits largely of cultivation; while the mountains conceal precious metals, and beautiful marbles. No country is better protected by nature.

On the north arises a broad barrier of stupendous mountains, while the remaining sides are protected by the sea. Along the coast are vast ports, with good harbours; and lastly, this portion of Europe alone has the advantage of offering ready access to both Asia and Africa.

The fertility of the soil, the mild temperature, and the large variety of natural productions which furnish good food, all indicate that Italy should possess a fine, vigorous, and intelligent population. And, indeed, the Italians possess these qualities.

We shall first examine rather more closely, the origin of this people, and the differences they present in various parts of the peninsula.

The Latin family which gave its name to the human group with which we are now concerned, had Italy for its home. In Italy, therefore, we should expect to meet with it. But we should be deceived were we to expect to find the pure Latin type among the modern Italians. The barbarian invasions in the north, and the contact with Greeks and Africans in the south, have wrought much alteration in the primitive type of the inhabitants of Italy. Except in Rome, and the Roman Campagna, the true type of the primitive Latin population is hardly to be found. The Grecian type exists in the south, and upon the Eastern slope of the Apennines, while in the north, the great majority of faces are Gallic. In Tuscany and the neighbouring regions are found the descendants of the ancient Etruscans.

What most interests us is the primitive Latin population. This is met with, as we have said, in and around Rome, and in order to find it we must go there.

The features of the early Latin people can be imagined without difficulty, by reference to busts of the first Roman emperors. We may thence arrive at the following characteristic features, as probably those of the ancient Italian races. The head is large, the forehead of no great height, the vertex (summit of the cranium) flattened, the temporal region protruding, and the face proportionally short. The nose, which is divided from the forehead by a marked depression, is aquiline; the lower jaw is broad, and the chin prominent.

The modern population of Rome, without absolutely reproducing these features, still retain their beautifully pure characteristic lines.

In fig. 27, which represents a group of peasant men and women of Rome, we easily recognize these celebrated types of countenance, so familiar to every artist. The distinguishing marks will be easily seen in the Roman peasants, who, quitting their native country, seek their livelihood in France as models.

As one of these types taken from nature, we would call the reader’s attention to fig. 28, which represents a young Roman girl from the quarter on the banks of the Tiber called Transtevera, and also to fig. 29, which is a faithful portrait of peasants from around Rome.

It would be a fruitless task, were we, in studying the modern Romans, to seek among them traces, more or less eradicated, of the old Roman blood.

In a population which has been so degraded, oppressed, and polluted as this, by ages of slavery and obscurity, we should find nought but disturbance and chaos. We can make no reference to family life in this land of convents and celibacy, nor speak of intellectual faculties in a country where we see a jealous tyranny narrowing the minds of the inhabitants, and an authority that is seated in the blackest darkness, moulding body and mind in ignorance of morality and education. We should need the greatest power of penetration to find, in the effeminate and degenerate population of Modern Rome, the genius of the ancient conquerors of the world.

There are, however, reasons for hoping, that Rome, being now released from Papal authority, and having, since the year 1871, become the Capital of Italy and the residence of King Victor-Emmanuel, will gradually cease to feel the preponderance of the sacerdotal element.

Young Romans playing the favorite Italian game, la mora, with its usual accompaniment of gesticulations and shouts, is a very common street scene. The two persons playing this game raise their closed fists in the air, and then, in letting them fall, open as many fingers as they may think proper. At the same time they call out some number. The winner is he, who, by chance, calls out the number represented by the sum of all the fingers exhibited by the two players. If, for example, I call out five, and at the same time open two fingers, whilst my adversary displays three, which added to mine make five, the number called by me, I am winner. The arms of the two players are raised and lowered at the same time, and the numbers are called simultaneously, with great rapidity and regularity, producing a very singular result and one incomprehensible to a stranger.

La mora is played all over Italy.

But it is not alone in the city of Rome that the characteristic features of the ancient Latin race are to be found; the traveller passing through the suburbs of the capital of the Christian World, Frascati or Tivoli, will still encounter vestiges of the old Latins hidden beneath the sad garments of misery. (Fig. 29.)

It may be said that Rome at the present day is a vast convent. In it the ecclesiastical population holds an important position and plays an important part. This, it is, which imparts to the Eternal City its austerity, not to say, its public sadness and moral languor. We shall therefore close our series of picturesque views of the inhabitants of Modern Rome, by glancing at the costumes of the principal dignitaries of the ecclesiastical order, their representation in fig. 30 being followed by the reproduction of a well-known picture, representing the Exaltation of Pio IX. (fig. 31).

The Latin type, which physically if not morally is met with in a state of purity at Rome, and in the Roman Campagna, has, on the other hand, undergone great modification in the provinces of the North, as well as in those of Southern Italy. Let us first consider the Northern provinces.

Northern Italy, endowed to perfection with natural advantages, washed by two seas, watered by the tributaries of a large river, possessing land of extraordinary fertility, nourishes a race in which the Latin blood has mingled with that of the German and Gaul. In Tuscany and the neighbourhood are, as we have said, the descendants of the old Etruscans, and further north are the offspring of Germanic and Gallic races.

The designs which adorn the Etruscan sarcophagi, originally brought, it is said, from Northern Greece, have preserved the physical form and appearance of these people. They are bulky, and of heavy make.

The men wear no beard, and are clothed with a tunic which in some cases is thrown over the back of the head. Some hold in the left hand a small goblet, and in the right, a bowl. They repose in an easy posture, resting the body on the left side, as do also the women. The women wear a tunic, sometimes fastened below the breast by a broad girdle, which is furnished with a circular clasp, and a peplum which in many cases covers the back of the head. They hold in one hand an apple, or some fruit of the same appearance, and in the other a fan. This is the portrait of the Etruscan which has been handed down to us.

Tuscany, of all Italy, is that portion which most strongly represents the mildness, the order, and the industrious activity of modern Italy. The natural richness of the soil is there enhanced by a capable system of cultivation. The arts peacefully flourish in this land of great painters, sculptors, and architects. The habits of the people, both of the upper and lower classes, are gentle and peaceful. There is here a state of general prosperity added to a fair amount of education. The poor man here, does not, as in other countries, foster a complaining and hostile feeling against the rich; all entertain a consciousness of their own dignity; all are affable and polite. The general good feeling is manifested in word and deed, and the religious tone is moderate and tolerant. Women are loved and respected, and this respect corresponds in religion with the worship of the Virgin.

At Florence and in Tuscany we meet that Italian urbanity, which, by the French, who are unable to understand it, is improperly termed obsequiousness. This attribute of the Italian is very far from servile; it comes from the heart. A universal kindly feeling welcomes the stranger, who experiences much pleasure among this conciliatory and friendly people, and with difficulty tears himself away from this happy country, where all seem bathed in an atmosphere of art, sentiment, and goodness.

Southern Italy will show us a very different picture from that we have just described. The proximity to Africa has here much altered the physical type of the inhabitants, while the yoke of a long despotism has much lowered the social condition, through the misery and ignorance it has produced. The mixture of African blood has changed the organic type of the Southern Italian to such an extent, as to render him entirely distinct from his northern compatriots; the exciting influence, which the mate has over the senses, imparting to his whole conduct a peculiar exuberance. Hence there is much frivolity and little consistency in his character.

In the town and neighbourhood of Naples we meet a combination of the features we have just considered. Let us betake ourselves for a moment thither, and take a rapid view of the strange population, which from early dawn is to be met in the streets, singing, begging, or going about their day’s work.

Fig. 32 shows us a shop of dealers in macaroni in the market-place (mercatello), and fig. 33 the indispensable water-carrier.

The most favourable time for examining the great variety of types which unite in the population of Southern Italy, is on the occasion of the public festivals which are so numerous at Naples. This curious mixture may be investigated in the crowds of people who frequent the festival of Piedigrotta, where are to be found examples of every Greek and Latin race.