The Italians generally have not this paludal notion, for experience taught them long ago that malaria is produced nearly everywhere—in marshy districts as well as in those which might almost be called arid; in a volcanic soil as well as in the deposits of the Miocene and Pliocene periods and the ancient and modern alluvia; in a soil rich in organic matters as well as in one containing almost none; in the plains as well as on the hills or mountains. The word malaria (bad air), which it is the sad privilege of Italy to have lent to all languages to express the cause of intermittent and pernicious fevers, represents, then, among the majority of our rural populations, the idea of an agent which may infect any sort of country, whatever may be its hydraulic and topographical conditions, and whatever may be its geological formation. This word, therefore, is the one best suited to designate this specific ferment in question, and I have on this account, employed it and its adjectival derivatives in order not to resuscitate the idea of the exclusively paludal origin of the morbific agent.
I shall not tarry long to speak of the nature of this ferment, for the studies bearing upon that point, although far advanced, are not yet completed. I may remark, however, that the idea that the ferment is formed of living organisms is a very old one, and has not arisen suddenly because of the modern theories of the parasitic nature of disease. From the time of Varrar (who believed that malaria was made up of invisible mites suspended in the atmosphere) to our own day this theory has been several times advanced by hygienists. Independently of the general considerations which led Rasori, and later Henle, to formulate the doctrine of the contagium vivum of infection (long before the progress of microscopical science had revealed the existence of living ferments), there were peculiar circumstances as regards malaria which should have impelled minds to look in that direction, even in times long past.