‘Not a pebble on this mountain’, says the patriot, ‘but can tell some tale of heroism and the defence of liberty.’ Europe’s tiniest reppublic, a citadel and a few villages perching ona crag, was established about AD 500 by Dalmatian refugees. Inaccessibility kept it aloof from the wars that destroyed the proud dukedoms at its feet. For 14 centuries its inhabitants lived by taking in each others’ washing but now they have created an ‘industrial triangle’ with cement, leather and soap factories and paper mills.

Old grey watch-towers and machicolated ramparts bristle on the heights. Cottage windows resemble arrow-slits. Guards and sentries strut in plumed hats, epaulettes and gauntlets. Flags and lanterns decorate facades of charm and distinction in a dramatic setting. There is a state museum, museums of torture, waxworks and weaponry and a picture gallery in the Valloni palace with works by Guercino, Strozzi and Domnichino. But the great sight is the Romagna coastal plain, on which you look down vertically from 500 m. The nearest river, the Marecchia, may be the Rubicon of Roman history.A short distance north the river now called Rubicone is almost certainly not.

San Marino’s pageantry is make-believe, like its coinage, postage-stamps and reproduction ‘national’ costumes. Where other invaders failed, tourism has conquered. Cramped though the Republic is, it has made space for a dozen hotels and restaurants, an aerial railway, camp- and caravan sites, clay pigeons, tennis and skating and night-clubs – and steady procession of cars and buses from the coast.