From The Summit Of The Tower We Had An
Extensive And Most Remarkable Prospect.
It was the 19th day of March, and
below us, the sides of the mountain, scooped into irregular dells, were
covered with fruit-trees just breaking into leaf and flower.
Beyond
stretched the region of barrenness I have already described, to the west
of which lay the green pastures of the Maremma, the air of which, in
summer, is deadly, and still further west were spread the waters of the
Mediterranean, out of which were seen rising the mountains of Corsica. To
the north and northeast were the Appenines, capped with snow, embosoming
the fertile lower valley of the Arno, with the cities of Pisa and Leghorn
in sight. To the south we traced the windings of the Cecina, and saw
ascending into the air the smoke of a hot-water lake, agitated perpetually
with the escape of gas, which we were told was visited by Dante, and from
which he drew images for his description of Hell. Some Frenchman has now
converted it into a borax manufactory, the natural heat of the water
serving to extract the salt.
The fortress is used as a prison for persons guilty of offenses against
the state. On the top of the tower we passed four prisoners of state,
well-dressed young men, who appeared to have been entertaining themselves
with music, having guitars and other instruments in their hands. They
saluted the adjutant as he went by them, who, in return, took off his hat.
They had been condemned for a conspiracy against the government.
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