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JOURNALS 


A    LANDSCAPE    PAINTER. 


/ 


'''HJ.VJ.S      KVKOtt 


JOURNALS 


or 


IN 


SOUTHERN  CALABRIA, 

&C. 


BY  EDWARD  LEAR, 

AUTHOR  OF  "JOURNALS  OP  A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER  IN  ALBANIA,"  ETC. 


RICHARD  BENTLEY,  NEW  BURLINGTON  STREET, 

^ubltsfjcr  in  ©rtrinatg  to  P?er  fHajestg. 
1852. 


LONDON : 
BRADBURY   AND   EVANS,  PRINTERS,   WHITEFR1ARS. 


PREFACE. 

To  the  present  Volume  of  Journals  but  little 
preface  is  requisite :  they  were  written  during 
tours  made  in  the  autumn  of  1847,  throughout 
the  southern  of  the  three  Calabrian  Provinces, 
and  in  that  of  Basilicata. 

Few  places  visited  by  the  author  have  not 
already  been  fully  described  in  the  accurate 
and  interesting  travels  of  the  Hon.  Keppel 
Craven.*  Mr.  Swinburne  has  written  a 
notice  f  of  many  places  in  Calabria,  though 
his  observations  are  principally  confined  to  the 


*  "  A  Tour  through  the  Southern  Provinces  of  the  Kingdom  of 
Naples,"  by  the  Hon.  E.  Keppel  Craven.  1821. 

t  "  Travels  in  the  Two  Sicilies,"  by  Henry  Swinburne,  Esq. 
1785. 


vi  PREFACE. 

coast ;  and  the  western  road  by  the  sea  has 
been  well  and  amusingly  treated  of  in  a  little 
book  called  "  A  Tour  in  Calabria,"  by  Arthur 
Strutt.  *  The  older  notices  f  of  the  province 
are  so  confused  or  so  cumbrous,  as  to  be  little 
read  or  known. 

While  some  villages  in  this,  the  most  southerly 
portion  of  the  beautiful  kingdom  of  Naples, 
have,  however,  hitherto  remained  unexplored  by 
Englishmen,  and  others,  till  now  unillustrated 
by  views,  are  for  the  first  time  made  known  to 
the  public, — the  general  aim  of  the  writer  to 
make  his  journal  a  Landscape-painter's  Guide- 
Book  will  stand  as  an  apology  for  his  having 
sometimes  described  ground  already  better 
treated  of  in  the  above-mentioned  works. 

The  mode  of  travel  which  I  and  my  fellow- 


*  "A  Pedestrian  Tour  in  Calabria  and  Sicily,"  by  Arthur  J. 
Strutt.  1842. 

t  Alberti  (Era  Leandro),  "  Descrit.  di  tutta  1'  Italia."  Venetia : 
1596. 

P.  Marafioti(Grirolamo),"Antichitadi  Calabria."  Padova:  1601. 

Griustimani,  "  Dizionario  del  Eegno  di  JSapoli."  1797. 


PREFACE.  vii 

wanderer  adopted  while  these  journals  were 
written,  was  the  simplest,  as  well  as  cheapest 
— we  performed  the  whole  tour  on  foot ; 
except  that  in  Basilicata  some  of  the  high 
roads  were  well  got  over  in  a  carriage.  In 
Calabria,  a  horse  to  carry  our  small  amount  of 
baggage,  and  a  guide,  cost  us,  altogether,  six 
carlini  daily*  —  no  very  heavy  expenditure  ;  but 
as  there  are  no  inns  in  that  province  except  on 
the  coach-road,  which  skirts  the  western  coast, 
the  traveller  depends  entirely  on  introductions 
to  some  family  in  each  town  he  visits. 

The  tour  in  the  more  northern  provinces 
was  undertaken  under  somewhat  different 
circumstances.  The  long  journeys  on  the  high 
road,  or  over  the  plains  near  the  east  coast  of 
Italy,  do  not  offer  sufficient  inducement  to 
pedestrian  exercise.  In  no  country,  perhaps, 
can  greater  contrasts  be  found,  than  between 
the  far-stretched  campagna  of  Apulia  or  the 


Little  more  than  two  shillings. 


viii  PREFACE. 

dreary  ridges  of  part  of  Basilicata,  and  the 
fertile  gardens,  the  wondrous  coast  scenes,  or 
the  purple  gorges  of  the  heart  of  Calabrian 
mountains. 

Wishing  to  confine  these  journals  strictly 
to  the  consideration  of  landscape,  I  have  said 
as  little  as  possible  of  events  which  occurred 
in  1848,  and  their  sequel.  Yet  it  is  but  right 
to  add,  that  some  provincial  families,  whose 
suspicions  and  apparent  want  of  hospitality 
marked  them  in  our  eyes  as  unlike  their  com- 
patriots, were  but  too  well  justified  in  keeping 
themselves  aloof  from  any  strangers,  whose 
motives  for  visiting  this  country  were  but  little 
understood,  and  whose  presence  might  possibly 
have  compromised  them  in  the  event  of 
disturbances  which,  they  may  have  been  aware, 
were  on  the  eve  of  occurring. 


LONDON , 

September  15,  1852. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

i 

Anticipations  of  Calabrian  journeying. — Arrival  at  Eeggio  ;  Police, 
Dogana,  &c.  —  The  "Giordano"  inn.  —  Chances  of  obtaining 
goat's  milk. — Beautiful  situation  of  Reggio. — Its  gardens. — The 
Bergamot  orange. — The  Villetta  Musitano. — Friendliness  of 
the  Eeggiani. — Consigliere  da  Nava,  &c. — Introductory  letters. 
— Plans  for  visiting  the  interior. — Search  for  a  guide. — Ciccio 
the  silent. — "Dighi,  d6ghi,  daghi,  da;  dogo." — Absence  of 
pointed  hats. — Departure  from  Eeggio. — Road  to  Motta  San 
Giovanni.  —  Don  F.  Maropoti's  house.  —  Conversazione  of 
neighbours. — Opinions  about  England. — Hospitable  reception  . 


CHAPTEE  II. 

Landscape  round  Motta  San  Giovanni. — Second  day's  tour. — The 
"toe"  of  Italy. — Extensive  prospects. — Lofty  mountains. — 
First  view  of  Bova. — Fiumaras,  or  dry  torrent-beds. — Peasants 
of  the  district ;  their  complaints  of  the  devastation  of  the  river. 
— Reach  Bagaladi. — Speculation  as  to  our  hosts  there. — Don 
Peppino  Panutti  and  his  agreeable  wife :  their  cordiality. — 
We  remain  at  Bagaladi  and  postpone  Conduf6ri  till  to-morrow. 
— Striking  scenes  in  the  valley. — Village  of  San  Lorenzo. — 
Cheerful  comfort  of  our  host's  house. — Travels  of  his  wife,  and 
the  cause  thereof. — Repose  of  night  scene 18 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Page 

Leave  Bagaladi,  and  set  out  for  Conduf6ri. — Fatiguing  hills. — 
Bova  once  more — a  long  way  off  yet. — Woodland  scenery. — 
Tracts  of  beautiful  landscape. — Cicadas. — Descent  to  another 
fiumara. — Arrive  at  Condufori. — .Greek  language  spoken. — 
House  of  Don  Giuseppe  Tropseano — repulse  therefrom. — Alarm 
of  the  hostess. — Our  retreat  to  an  osteria. — Forlorn  Calabrian 
accommodations.  —  "  Turchi  "  spectators.  —  Unprepossessing 
Cyclopean  girl. — Pursue  our  way. — Intense  amusement  of  the 
silent  Ciccio. — Ascent  to  Amendolla. — Magnificent  prospect. — 
Laborious  ascent. — Good-natured  peasants. — Bova  is  reached 
at  last. — House  of  Don  Antonio  Marzano. — Another  hospitable 
reception  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .25 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Situation  and  appearance  of  Bova. — Traditional  visit  of  C.  J.  Fox 
thereto. — Kemarks  on  the  origin  of  the  Bovani. — Changes  about 
to  take  place  in  the  aifairs  of  Bova. — Its  Marina,  or  sea-port. — 
The  Bishop, — Delightful  quiet  and  beauty  of  scenery. — Exquisite 
view  of  Etna. — Honey. — Luxuriance  of  the  prickly  pear,  or 
cactus. — Kemain  at  the  Palazzo  Marzano. — Sonnet  by  Don 
Antonio. — Arrangement  of  places  to  be  visited  on  the  route  to 
Sta  Maria  di  Potsi. — We  leave  Bova  with  regret. — Descent  from 
the  mountain. — The  Cyclopean  girl  of  Condufori  again. — Con- 
tinued scenes  of  forest  or  valley. — Mid-day,  and  approach  to 
Palizzi. — Its  singular  situation,  and  castle. — Narrow  streets 
and  stairs :  wild  Calabrese  town. — Beautiful  Palizzana. — Brown 
Cupids. — The  Taverna  of  Palizzi :  its  inhabitants  and  furniture. 
—  Astonishment  and  questions  of  the  host,  &c.  —  Political 
motives  imputed  to  wandering  artists. — Strange  appearance  of 
Palizzi  from  below. — Prickly  pears  and  other  difficulties. — 
Departure  from  Palizzi. — Hill  of  Pietrapennata  :  its  most 


CONTENTS.  xi 

Page 
exquisite  forests. — Approach  to  Staiti :  its  Calabrian  character 

and  singular  aspect. — Costume  of  women. — Don  Domenico 
Musitaui :  his  disagreeable  house. — Hospitality  qualified  by 
circumstances. — Silkworms  and  their  disagreeables. — Contrast 
between  the  various  abodes  in  such  tours  .  ,  35 


CHAPTER  V. 

Explore  Staiti. — Feeding  among  the  silkworms. — A  dinner  party. 
—  Silkworm  pie,  &c.  —  We  resolve  to  return  to  forests  of 
Pietrapennata  to-morrow. — Sociable  peasantry. — Discomforts  of 
Staiti. — Return  to  the  forests. — Extreme  beauty  and  variety  of 
the  environs  of  Pietrapennata. — The  Archpriest  of  the  village, 
and  his  hospitable  welcome. — Return  at  night  to  Staiti. — 
Uncomfortable  evening. — Speculations  on  Su  Maria  di  Polsi. — 
"We  descend  to  the  sea-shore  again. — Reach  Motta  Bruzzano. — 
Cultivated  grounds. — Beautiful  bits  of  scenery. — Good  wine  at 
Bruzzano. — The  silent  Ciccio  urges  us  to  proceed. — Good 
qualities  of  our  guide. — Extreme  heat. — Ascent  of  the  hill  of 
Ferruzzano,  and  descent  to  the  shore  once  more. — Fatiguing 
walk  to  the  convent  of  Bianco. — Disappointment  at  the  monas- 
tery.— Ascent  to  Carignano,  and  halt  there. — Further  ascent 
by  beautiful  woods  to  Sta  Agata  di  Bianco. — The  Baron's  house. 
The  usual  hospitable  welcome — with  the  addition  of  luxuries 
and  refinements. — Difficulty  of  passing  the  evening  hours. — 
The  family  supper  party 52 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Descent  from  Sta  Agata. — Glorious  scenery  :  refreshing  woods. — 
We  turn  towards  the  Aspromonte  mountains. — First  sight  of 
San  Luca,  where  a  guide  for  the  monastery  of  Polsi  is  to  be. 
procured.  —  Descent  to  a  fiumara,  and  long  walk  in  it. — 


CONTENTS. 

Page 

Oleanders.  —  San  Luca.  —  Welcome  at  the  house  of  Don 
Domenico  Stranges. — Hearty  and  jovial  family  of  brothers. — 
Immense  amount  of  questions  concerning  the  produce  of 
England. — Invitations  to  remain  at  San  Luca. — Late  start  for 
the  monastery  with  a  guide,  besides  Ciccio. — Ascent  of  the 
stream  :  grand  mountain  scenery. — Heights  of  Aspromonte. — 
Magnificent  oleander-trees. — Impressive  solitudes. — Necessity 
of  haste — the  day  wears. — Climb  among  oak  woods. — Ascent 
to  the  Serra. — Ciccio's  forebodings. — Darkness  overtakes  us. — 
Light  of  the  monastery  far  below. — Descent  to  its  gates. — 
Pleasant  reception  by  the  Superior. — Wonder  of  the  monks. — 
The  Superior's  lecture  upon  England  and  the  English. — The 
Thames  Tunnel  poetically  considered. — Conventual  accommo- 
dations of  Sta  Maria  di  Polsi. — Storm  and  wind .  66 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

Mountain  mist. — Description  of  the  scenery  round  the  monastery. 
— Simple  peasantry  of  these  mountains. — Lionising  the  church 
and  convent. — The  Superior  and  his  conversation. — We  decide 
on  starting  for  Gerace  to-morrow. — Legendary  foundation  of 
the  Convent  of  Su  Maria  di  Polsi. — Praises  of  our  guide  Ciccio. 
— Ascent  to  the  Serra,  and  descent  to  the  valley  and  fiumara  of 
San  Luca. — The  brothers  Stranges  again. — More  hospitality 
and  questions. — We  set  off  for  Bovalino. — Tiresome  journey  by 
the  fiumara  to  the  sea-shore. — Hot  sandy  paths. — Olive-grounds. 
— Ascent  to  Bovalino. — The  Count  Garrolo — his  hospitality  and 
volubility. — Supper  and  the  subdued  Contessa  .  .  .  .75 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

View  from  the  heights  of  Bovalino. — Last  words  of  Conte  Garrolo. 
— Descent  to  the  valleys  of  Ardore  ;  pursue  our  road  to  the 
sea-shore  again. — Arrive  at  Torre  di  Gerace. — Site  of  ancient 


CONTENTS.  xiii 

Page 
Locris. — Ruins. — We  strike  inland  towards  Gerace. — Cross  the 

fiumara  Merico. — Long  ascent  to  the  picturesque  city  of  Gerace. 
— Description  of  Gerace  :  its  frequent  earthquakes  ;  its  cathe- 
dral, &c. — Norman  castle. — Its  inaccessible  position. — Extensive 
prospects. — Palazzo  of  Don  Pasquale  Seaglione. — Agreeable 
and  hospitable  reception. — Large  rooms  and  comfortable  house. 
— High  winds  frequent  at  Gerace. — Beautiful  views  of  Gerace. 
— Constant  occupation  for  the  pencil. — Vino  Greco  of  the 
Calabrese. — Locrian  coins. — A  treatise  on  ancient  Locris,  and 
our  appreciation  thereof. — The  medico  of  Gerace  .  .  .87 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

"We  remain  at  Gerace,  and  draw  constantly. — Evening  visit  to  the 
Sott'  intendente. — Cathedral  of  Gerace.— Church  of  S.  Fran- 
cesco.— We  leave  the  Palazzo  Seaglione,  and  descend  to  the 
river  Novito. — Arrangements  to  return  to  Gerace,  so  as  to  visit 
all  this  province  before  proceeding  to  Calabria  Ulteriore  II. — 
Town  of  Siderno  ;  dress  of  the  women. — General  civility  of  the 
peasantry  and  of  all  orders  of  people. — Descent  to  the  sea- 
shore.— Magnificent  appearance  of  Eocella. — Approach  to  the 
town. — Night  comes  ere  we  ascend  the  rock. — Search  in  the 
darkness  for  the  Casa  Manni. — Hospitable  reception  by  the 
family  of  Don  Giuseppe  Manni. — Ancient  palace. — Our  fatigue 
and  inaptitude  at  conversation. — Endless  interrogatories. — The 
Rocellesi  are  decided  in  their  opinions  as  to  our  native  produc- 
tions.— Their  rejection  of  our  fruits  and  vegetables  as  wholly 
fabulous  .  96 


CHAPTEE  X. 

We  pass  the  morning  at  Eocella — Its  magnificently  picturesque 
character. — We  leave  Eocella  and  the  sea-side. — Cross  the 
river  Alaro. — Eich  vegetation. — Ascent  to  Stignano. — Vast 


r  CONTENTS. 

Pago 

herds  of  goats. — Two  pointed  hats  from  the  province  of 
Catanzaro. — The  family  of  Don  Cicillo  Caristo. — Evening  in 
the  balcony. — Little  owls. — Hospitality  as  usual. — Somewhat 
of  dullness. — Prospective  costumes  in  Northern  Calabria. — 
Fete  of  the  Madonna. — Drums  and  noise. — We  grow  weary  of 
Stignano. — The  dinner. — New  idea  for  a  valentine;  Cupid 
among  the  maccaroni. — We  set  off  to  Stilo. — The  river  Stillaro. 
—  Grand  character  and  architectural  beauty  of  Stilo.  —  Its 
magnificent  situation. — Its  well-kept  streets. — House  of  Don 
Ettore  Marzano. — Agreeable  host  and  thoroughly  cordial 
reception. — Difficulty  of  selecting  views  among  a  multitude  of 
fine  points.  —  A  visit  to  Bazzano. — Courteous  manners  of 
peasantry. — Daily  thunderstorm. — Agreeable  stay  at  Stilo. — 
Fly-flappers. — Life  at  Stilo. — Conversazione. — Plans  for  con- 
tinuing the  tour 104 


CHAPTEE  XI. 

Departure  from  Stilo. — Early  morning. — Town  of  Motta  Placa- 
nica. — Its  extraordinary  appearance. — Cross  the  river  Alaro. 
— Ascent  to  Castel  Vetere. — Palazzo  of  Don  Ilario  Asciutti. — 
The  grandfather  of  the  family  ;  his  eloquence. — The  dinner. — 
Discourse  on  flesh,  fowl,  and  fish. — Our  host  is  angry  at  our 
early  departure. — We  appease  him,  and  depart. — We  descend 
the  valley  of  the  river  Meano. — Come  in  sight  of  Rocella. — 
Ascend  the  river  Eomano,  and  reach  Gioiosa  at  dusk. — 
Reception  at  the  house  of  the  Baron  Eivettini. — Interview 
with  the  Baron. — Card-playing. — Doubts  and  questions. — The 
evening  meal. — "  Why  ? " — Coming  events  cast  their  shadows 
before  115 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Page 

The  anxious  Baron. — Passports. — Coffee  with  sugar. — Drawing 
the  town  of  Gioiosa. — Its  beautiful  situation. — "  Why  ? " — Bee- 
eaters. — Sugar-plums. — We  leave  the  Casa  Rivettini  and 
Gioiosa. — Eecross  the  rivers  Romano  and  Novito. — Ascent  to 
Agnano. — Copper-mines. — Visit  of  the  King  of  Naples  to 
them. — The  fortunate  donkey-driver. — View  of  Canalo  from 
the  ravine  of  the  Novito. — Strange  position  of  the  village. — 
The  Passo  del  Mercante. — Don  Giovanni  Rosa. — His  hospitable 
welcome. — The  careful  Ciccio. — Magnificent  mountain  scenery 
and  environs  of  Canalo. — Content  and  simplicity  of  old  Don 
Giovanni  Rosa. — Paradise  and  Canalo. — Roast  squirrels  and 
fungi. — Ornithological  cookery. — Geographical  ornaments  of 
the  Palazzo  Rosa. — Wondrous  and  majestic  scenes. — We  leave 
Canalo :  recross  the  Novito,  and  ascend  to  Gerace. — Return 
to  the  Casa  Scaglione. — Preparations  for  f§tes. — Episcopal 
injunctions  against  dancing. — Quiet  repose  of  Gerace. — Arrival 
of  peasantry  for  the  f£te. — Procession  of  the  image  of  a  patron 
saint. — Beautiful  scenery  on  the  castle  rock. — Moonlight. — 
ThefSsta  128 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

We  leave  the  Casa  Scaglione,  and  the  east  side  of  Calabria  Ulte- 
riore  Prima. — Ascend  the  central  ridge  of  mountains. — Come 
in  sight  of  the  Western  sea. — Descent  to  the  immense  plains 
of  Gioia,  Terranova,  &c. — Complete  change  in  the  character  of 
the  scenery. — Dreadful  earthquake  of  1783. — Descent  to 
Castelnuovo. — Reception  of  Don  Vincenzo  Tito. — Character 
of  the  environs  of  Castelnuovo. — Olive-woods. — Plans  for 
to-morrow.  —  Vast  olive-grounds.  —  Town  of  San  Giorgio. — 
Costume  of  its  female  inhabitants.  Polistena. — Visit  to  the 
house  of  Morani  the  painter.  Portraits  of  Sir  Walter  Scott 


i  CONTENTS. 

Page 

and  of  Pio  Nono. — Hospitality  of  Don  Vincenzo  Tito. — De- 
parture from  Castelnuovo.  —  Road  through  the  olive-woods. 
— Radiceua. — The  destroyed  town  of  Terranova. — Immense 
olive-plains  from  the  mountains  to  the  sea-shore. — We  reach 
Oppido  late,  and  find  no  friends  there. — A  disagreeable  night's 
shelter  .  146 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Olive-woods  on  the  way  to  Gioia. — Fiumara,  or  River  Marro. — 
Burning  heat. — Rice-grounds. — Melon-gardens  and  elevated 
look-out  houses.— Malaria. — King-fishers. — "Wearisome  walk. 
— Arrival  at  Gioia. — Its  character  for  very  bad  air  and  deadly 
fevers. — We  set  off  towards  Palmi. — High-road  travelling  in 
Calabria. — Approach  to  the  city  of  Palmi. — View  of  the 
Lipari  Isles. — The  angry  landlady  and  the  good  inn.  Break- 
fast.—  Beautiful  situation  of  Palmi.  —  We  send  Ciccio  to 
Bagnara  by  the  road,  and  go  ourselves  by  sea. — Fine  coast 
scenery. — Beautiful  position  of  Bagnara. — Carriage-road  to 
Scilla.  —  Its  position. — Its  rocks  and  castle.  —  Opinion  of 
Calabrians  of  our  drawing. — Boat  to  the  rock  of  Scilla. — 
Squabble  with  the  innkeeper. — We  leave  the  town  :  halt  at 
Villa  San  Giovanni. — Retrospective  glance  on  our  thirty  days' 
tour,  and  plans  for  the  future. — We  reach  Reggio  once  more. 
— Consigliere  da  Nava 162 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Arrangements. — Ciccio  and  his  pay. — Plan  to  see  some  fine  forests 
near  Reggio  to-morrow ;  and  to  visit  Pentedatilo  before 
starting  for  the  other  Calabrian  provinces. — Morning  calls  at 
Reggio.— Set  out  to  Gallicd.— Ciccio's  house.— The  village  of 

• 


CONTENTS.  xvii 

Page 
Calanna. — Fine  views  of  the  Straits  of  Messina,  and  Etna. — 

We  find  no  fine  trees  on  the  hills  of  Basilico,  and  return  late 
to  Reggio, — We  cross  to  Messina,  and  I  return  to  Eeggio 
alone. — I  set  off  by  the  road  to  Me"lito,  and  reach  that  town 
by  Ave-Maria. — Wonderful  views  of  the  crags  and  town  of 
Pentedatilo. — The  discomforts  of  the  house  of  Don  P.  Tropaea. 
— Agitation  and  distress  of  his  family. — The  supper. — Revela- 
tions of  revolution. — Announcement  of  disturbances. — The 
supper  party  breaks  up.  —  The  bed-room.  —  The  midnight 
adventure. — I  leave  M61ito. — Ciccio's  foreboding  silence. — The 
River  Alice. — Amazing  views  of  Pentedatilo— its  ravine  and 
rocks — its  strange  form. — I  ascend  to  the  town  ;  surprise  and 
alarm  of  its  inhabitants. — Proceed  to  Montebello. — Indian 
"figs. — The  revolution  and  its  shadows. — "The  Peutedatilo 
Tragedy,"  a  tale  of  horrors. — Ascent  to  Motta  S.  Giovanni — 
and  return  to  Reggio. — Commencement  of  the  revolutionary 
movements  of  1847-8. — Appearance  of  Reggio. — Absurd  waiter 
at  Giordano's  hotel. — Interview  with  Consigliere  da  Nava. — 
Explanation  of  various  doubts  and  circumstances  throughout 
our  tour. — Processions  of  the  insurgents,  &c. — An  anxious 

morning. — I  escape  from  Reggio,  and  reach  Messina. — P 

and  I  embark  for  Naples  in  a  Malta  steamer. — Farewell  to 
Calabria  Ulteriore  Prima  !  .     180 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 

Return  to  Calabria  not  advisable. — A  tour  to  Melfi  and  part  of 
Apulia  resolved  on. — We  set  off  to  Avellino. — Travelling  with 
the  eyes  open. — Beautiful  character  of  the  country  round 
Avellino. — Convent  of  Monte  Vergine. — Vineyards  and  villas. 
— Costume  and  appearance  of  the  women. — Ascent  of  Monte 
Vergine. — Historical  notices  of  the  convent. — Extensive  pros- 
pect from  the  mountain. — Arrangements  for  visiting  Melfi, 
&c. — We  leave  Avellino. — Highroads  and  caratelle. — Uninter- 
esting drive  to  the  valley  of  the  Galore,  and  Grotta  Minarda. 

6 


iii  CONTENTS. 

Page 

— Anticipations  of  Apulia. — Attempt  to  reach  Frigento. — 
A  guide  hired. — We  leave  Grotta  Minarda. — Unpicturesque 
approach  to  the  hill  of  Frigento. — The  lonely  osteria. — 
Don  Gennaro  Fiammarossa  and  his  hotel. — We  return  to 
the  lonely  osteria,  and  make  the  best  of  it. — Wheat  beds, 
with  onion  curtains.  —  Departure  from  Frigento. — Barren 
and  dreary  scenery. — The  Lake  of  Mofette  ;  its  appearance 
and  qualities. —  Dead  birds. — Rocca  San  Felice. — Ascent  to 
St.  Angelo  de'  Lombardi. — No  carriages  nor  carriage-roads. — 
The  old  man  and  his  ass. — We  seize  on  a  roast  fowl,  and  make 
ourselves  as  comfortable  as  circumstances  permit  .  .  .  209 


CHAPTEE  XVII. 

Departure  from  St.  Angelo  de'  Lombardi. — Country  expands  into 
wide  grassy  downs. — Distant  view  of  Monte  Voltore. — Undu- 
lating plains. — Arrival  at  Bisaccia. — Inhospitable  place. — 
Difficulty  of  procuring  food. — Guide  refuses  to  proceed,  and  is 
bribed  by  a  dish  of  fish. — We  leave  Bisaccia. — Arrive  in  sight 
of  the  great  plains  of  Apulia. — Costume. — Nearer  view  of 
Monte  Voltore. — Eeach  Lacedogna. — Vain  endeavour  to  hire 
a  horse. — We  find  a  chance  vetturino. — Monteverde. — Fine 
views  of  Monte  Voltore. — Towns  on  the  mountain :  its  charac- 
ter, lake,  &c. — Cross  the  river  Ofanto. — Enter  Basilicata. — 
Approach  to  Melfi. — Its  castle,  drawbridge,  &c.  &c. — Signor 
Vittorio  Manassei. — Pleasant  reception. — Magnificent  accom- 
modations.— Comforts  of  Melfi. — Historical  notices  of  the 
city,  &c. — View  from  the  modern  part  of  the  castle. — Pic- 
turesqueness  of  Melfi  and  its  environs :  agreeable  hours 
indoors. — Doria  gallery. — Family  dinner. — The  vineyard  and 
the  pergola.— The  old  hall—  Buttered  toast  and  other  Melfi 
luxuries. — We  continue  to  stay  at  the  castle. — Arrangements 
for  visiting  Minervino,  Venosa,  Monte  Voltore,  and  Castel  del 
Lago  Pdsole.— Don  Sebastiano  il  Fattore  .  227 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEE  XVIII. 

Page 
Leave  Melfi. — Eegrets  for  old  Dighi,  D6ghi,  Da. — The  magnificent 

Don  Sebastiano. — Lavello. — We  prefer  walking  to  riding. — 
Mid-day  halt. — View  of  Monte  Voltore. — Apulian  plains — 
their  great  flatness  and  paleness. — Approach  to  Minervino. — 
Its  appearance — streets,  animation,  &c. — Plain  of  Cannse. — 
Monte  Gargano,  &c. — Don  Vincenzino  Todesche :  his  warm 
and  friendly  reception. — The  family  supper. — Don  Vincen- 
zino's  hospitable  opinions. — "Weary  ride  from  Minervino  by 
the  stony  Murgie. — Immense  extent  of  Apulian  pianura. — 
Eemarkable  beauty  of  Castel  del  Monte. — Its  architectural 
interest. — Eeturn  to  Minervino. — Tradition  concerning  the 
architect  of  Castel  del  Monte. — We  leave  Minervino. — Eepu- 
tation  for  cordiality  enjoyed  by  the  south-eastern  provinces 
of  the  Eegno. — Halt  at  Monte  Milone. — Oak  woods. — Views 
of  Venosa  and  Monte  Voltore. — Picturesqueness  of  Venosa  : 
its  streets,  &c. — Palazzo  of  Don  Nicola  Eapolla,  and  agreeable 
reception  there. — His  family. — Luxuries  and  refinements. — 
The  castle  of  Venosa :  its  modernised  ulterior,  prisons,  stables, 
&c. — Agreeable  stay  at  the  Casa  Eapolla. — Venosa  Cathedral. 
— Church  of  La  Trinita. — Euined  church  and  monastery  of 
the  Benedictines. — Amphitheatre. — Another  day  at  the  Casa 
Eapolla. — "We  leave  Venosa. — High  roads,  commerce,  and  civi- 
lization.— Skirts  of  Monte  Voltore. — Towns  of  Eapolla  and 
Barile. — Large  town  of  Eio  Nero. — Indications  of  its  wealth 
and  activity. — House  of  Don  P.  Catena  :  its  comfort  and  good 
arrangements. — Our  hospitable  welcome. — Signor  Manassei 
again. — Evening  musical  party  at  Eio  Nero  ....  242 


xi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTEE  XIX. 

Page 
Visit  to  the  Monastery  of  San  Michele  del  Voltore. — Beautiful 

woods. — Exquisite  scenery,  and  position  of  the  convent. — The 
lake. — The  fe"sta. — The  pilgrims. — Thoughtful  attentions  of 
Don  Pasqualuccio  Catena. — Eain. — Noisy  night  neighbours. — 
Another  morning  at  the  lake  and  convent. — We  leave  San 
Michele. — Extreme  loveliness  of  the  scene. — Return  to  Eio 
Nero. — Eoad  to  Atella. — Arrive  at  Castel  del  Lago  Pesole. — 
Its  situation  and  slender  claims  to  the  picturesque. — Italian 
evening. — Filippoli. — Departure  from  Castel  del  Lago  Pesole. 
— Avigliano.  —  Potenza.  —  Vietri  di  Basilicata.  —  Beautiful 
scenery. — Eboli. —  Pesto.  —  Eeturn  to  Naples.  —  Accounts  of 
the  late  earthquakes  at  Melfi,  &c.  &c 266 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Page 
MAP  OF  CALABRIA  ULTERIORE  PRIMA  (to  face  title). 

REQGIO  .     v   - 6 

BOVA 36 

PALIZZI 48 

FORESTS  OF  PIETRAPENNATA 56 

S.  MARIA  DI  POLSI 76 

GERACE 92 

ROCELLA       .        .  .      .        .        .        .        .        .        -        .        .  "      .  104 

STILO -      .        .    .  110 

GIOIOSA          .        .        .        .        .      '.        .        .        .        .        .        .130 

CANALO     .        .        .        .        .        .        .        ...        ."        .     .  140 

SAN  GIORGIO        .  , .        .156 

PALMI         .        .-       .        .        .        .        .     •  -.        .      ,  .        ,        .     .  172 

BAGNARA • 174 

SCILLA 176 

PENTEDATILO 190 

MAP  OF  BASILICATA,  &c.  (to  face  half-title) 209 

CONVENT  OF  MONTE  VERGINE 214 

MELFI 238 

CASTEL  DEL  MONTE 250 

VENOSA 258 

S.  MICHELE  DI  MONTE  VOLTORE  .                                                   .  268 


JOURNALS 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER. 


JOURNALS 

op 

A  LANDSCAPE   PAINTER  IN 
CALABRIA,  &c. 


KINGDOM  OF  NAPLES. 

CALABRIA   ULTERIORE   PRIMA.      (SOUTHERN  CALABRIA,  OR   PROVINCE  OF  REGGIO.) 

CHAPTEE  I. 

Anticipations  of  Calabrian  journeying. — Arrival  at  Reggio ;  Police,  Dogana, 
&c. — The  "  Giordano  "  inn. — Chances  of  obtaining  goat's  milk. — Beautiful 
situation  of  Reggio. — Its  gardens. — The  Bergamot  orange. — The  Villetta 
Musitano. — Friendliness  of  the  Reggiani. — Consigliere  da  Nava,  &c. — 
Introductory  letters. — Plans  for  visiting  the  interior. — Search  for  a  guide, 
— Ciccio  the  silent. — "Dighi,  ddghi,  daghi,  da;  dogo." — Absence  of 
pointed  hats. — Departure  from  Reggio. — Road  to  Motta  San  Giovanni. — 
Don  F.  Mardpoti's  house. — Conversazione  of  neighbours. — Opinions  about 
England. — Hospitable  reception. 

July  25,  1847. — The  very  name  of  Calabria 
has  in  it  no  little  romance.  No  other  province 
of  the  kingdom  of  Naples  holds  out  such  pro- 
mise of  interest,  or  so  inspires  us  before  we 


JOURNALS   OF 


have  set  foot  within  it,— for  what  do  we  care 
for  Molise,  or  Principato  ?  or  what  visions  are 
conjured  up  by  the  names  of  Terra  di  Lavoro, 

or  Capitanata  ?   But — Calabria !  * No  sooner 

is  the  word  uttered  than  a  new  world  arises 
before  the  mind's  eye, — torrents,  fastnesses,  all 
the  prodigality  of  mountain  scenery, — caves, 
brigands,  and  pointed  hats, — Mrs.  Radcliffe 


*  Calabria  is  situated  at  the  most  southern  extremity  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Naples.  Its  division  into  three  provinces  (the  sub- 
divisions and  population  of  which  will  be  found  below)  is  of  very 
recent  date.  From  the  thirteenth  down  to  the  end  of  the  last 
century  the  second  and  third  provinces  were  included  in  a  single 
one  under  the  name  of  "  Calabria,"  or  "  Calabria  Ultra,"  while, 
so  late  as  1415,  "  Calabria  Citeriore"  was  known  as  "  Provincia 
Val  di  Gratis  et  Terre  Jordane."  (See  Del  Be.) 


Provinces. 

Population  in 
1828. 

Principal 
Town. 

Districts 
(or  Sou'  Intendenze)  . 

Calabria  Citeriore  (Northern  ] 
Calabria,   or    Province  of  > 
Cosenza)     ...         .      J 

406,359 

Cosenza 

f  Cosenza 
J  Castrovillari 
1  Paola 

^Rossano 

Seconda  Calabria  Ulteriorel 
(Central  Calabria,  or  Pro-  > 
vince  of  Catanzaro)  .  .  .  J 

298,239 

Catanzaro 

f  Catanzaro 
J  Monteleone 
1  Nicastro 
V,  Cotrone 

Prima  Calabria  Ulteriore  "I 
(Southern  Calabria,  or  Pro-  > 
vince  of  Reggio)  .  .  .  .  J 

260,633 

Reggio 

fReggio 
•i  Palmi 
1  Gerace 

A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  3 

and  Salvator  Rosa, — costumes  and  character, — 
horrors  and  magnificence  without  end.  Even 
Messina  derives  its  chief  charm  from  the  blue 
range  of  mountains  and  the  scattered  villages 
on  the  opposite  shore, — Reggio  glittering  on 
the  water's  edge, — Scylla  on  its  rock,  where  the 
guide-books  (by  a  metaphor)  say  you  may  hear 
(large  ?)  dogs  barking  across  the  straits, — the 
lofty  cloud-topped  Aspromonte,  and  the  pearl- 
pale  cliffs  of  Bagnara.  Yet  this  land  of  pic- 
torial and  poetical  interest  has  had  but  few 
explorers ;  fewer  still  have  published  their 
experiences  ;  and  its  scenery,  excepting  that 
on  the  high  road,  or  near  it,  has  rarely  been 
pourtrayed,  at  least  by  our  own  countrymen. 
In  the  afternoon,  having  hired  a  boat  to  cross 

the  straits,   P and  I  were  ready  to  start 

from  Messina.  Leaving  a  portion  of  our  luggage 
there  we  took  enough  for  a  month  or  six 
weeks'  journey  through  the  nearest  province, 
or  Calabria  Ulteriore  Prima  ;  and,  well  supplied 
with  letters  to  those  persons  in  its  chief  city 
who  would  send  us  on  our  way  through  the 
interior,  we  set  sail  for  Reggio,  and  soon  the 


B   2 


4  JOURNALS   OF 

lemon-coloured  forts  of  Zancle  were  far  behind 
us  on  the  deep  blue  sea.  By  degrees  the  fur- 
rowed hills  around  Messina  spread  out  into 
one  long  chain,  the  heights  of  distant  Taor- 
mina  and  cloud-capped  Etna  closing  the  scene. 
Yet,  near  as  Reggio  appeared,  we  did  not  reach 
it  until  the  sun  had  set,  an  hour  when  the 
broad  walk,  in  front  of  the  uniform  facade  of 
houses  built  along  the  Marina  since  the  last 
earthquake,  was  full  of  evening  promenaders. 
There  was  a  "  Sanita  "  and  a  "  Dogana " 
to  encounter,  of  course ;  but  having  an  in- 
troductory letter  to  the  Direttore,  whose 
address  we  casually  asked  for  in  a  judiciously 
elevated  tone  of  voice,  no  one  molested  us 
either  as  to  our  state  of  health  or  property : 
we  went  off  accordingly,  preceded  by  porters, 
to  the  Locanda  Giordano,  situated  in  the  high 
street  of  Reggio,  which  runs  parallel  to  the 
coast,  and  contains  some  very  decent  rooms, 
the  largest  of  which  we  seized  on  as  our  own 
for  the  sum  of  four  carlini  *  daily.  Having 


A  carlino,  twelve  of  which  compose  the  Neapolitan  dollar, 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  5 

ordered  some  supper,  we  forthwith  proceeded 
to  report  ourselves  to  the  Polizia,  the  manager 
of  which  dwelt  in  an  unsatisfactory  house  at 
the  other  end  of  the  town,  and  had  perched 
himself  at  the  top  of  a  totally  dark  and  crooked 
staircase,  the  ascent  of  which  was  disputed  step 
by  step  by  an  animated  poodle.  After  this  we 

went   to  deliver  the  Duke  of •'$  letter  to 

the  Direttore,  an  old  French  gentleman  who 
was  playing  at  whist,  double  dummy.  "  What 
could  he  do  for  us? — we  had  but  to  command." 
We  begged  for  letters  to  Bova  and  other  out  of 
the  way  places  in  the  toe  of  Italy,  all  of  which 
he  readily  promised.  Another  letter  of  intro- 
duction we  delivered  to  Consigliere  da  Nava, 
who  proved  a  great  ally. 

July  26. — If  you  wish  for  milk  at  breakfast- 
time  in  these  parts  of  the  world,  you  ought  to 
sit  in  the  middle  of  the  road  with  a  jug  at  early 
dawn,  for  unless  you  seize  the  critical  moment 


is  worth  fourpence  farthing  English  money.  There  are  ten  grani 
in  a  carlino,  or  Sicilian  tornesi,  a  copper  coin  frequently  used  in 
Southern  Calabria. 


6  JOURNALS   OF 

of  the  goats  passing  through  the  town,  you  may 
wish  in  vain.  If  you  have  any  excursion  to 
make,  and  require  to  start  early,  you  may  as 
well  give  up  the  idea,  for  the  "  Crapi  "  are  "  not 
yet  come ; "  and  if  you  delay  but  a  little 
while,  you  hear  the  tinkle  of  their  bells,  and 
perceive  the  last  tails  of  the  receding  flock  in 
vexatious  perspective  at  the  end  of  the  street. 

At  sunrise  I  set  out  on  an  exploring  expe- 
dition, and  was  soon  dodging  here  and  there  to 
find  the  best  views  of  Keggio  among  its  endless 
cactus  and  aloe  lanes,  fig  gardens,  and  orange 
groves.  Reggio  is  indeed  one  vast  garden,  and 
doubtless  one  of  the  loveliest  spots  to  be  seen 
on  earth.  A  half-ruined  castle,  beautiful  in 
colour  and  picturesque  in  form,  overlooks  all  the 
long  city,  the  wide  straits,  and  snow-topped 
Mongibello  *  beyond.  Below  the  castle  walls  f 
are  spread  wide  groves  of  orange,  lemon,  citron, 
bergamot,  and  all  kinds  of  such  fruit  as  are 


*  Mongibello,  the  Saracenic  name  of  Mount  Etna,  is  generally 
in  use  among  the  Sicilians  and  Calabresi. 

t  In  an  old  picture  of  Eeggio,  in  Pacichelli,  the  whole  town 
is  represented  as  walled. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  7 

called  by  the  Italians  "  Agrumi ;  "  *  their  thick 
verdure  stretched  from  hill  to  shore  as  far  as 
the  eye  can  reach  on  either  side,  and  only 
divided  by  the  broad  white  lines  of  occasional 
torrent  courses.  All  the  fulness  of  Sicilian 
vegetation  awaits  you  in  your  foreground; 
almond,  olive,  cactus,  palm  tree,  -f  aloe,  and  fig, 
forming  delightful  combinations  wherever  you 
turn  your  steps. 

In  the  afternoon  we  went  to  the  Villetta,  a 
country-house  about  a  mile  distant  from  the 
town,  with  a  letter  of  introduction  to  its 


*  The  Bergamot  orange,  from  the  peel  of  which  the  well-known 
perfume  is  extracted,  is  cultivated  to  a  great  extent  round  Reggio, 
and  the  fruit  forms  a  considerable  article  of  commerce.  There 
are  several  notices  on  this  subject  in  Swinburne's  Travels. 

"  The  spirit  is  extracted  by  paring  off  the  rind  of  the  fruit 
with  a  broad  knife,  pressing  the  peel  between  wooden  pincers 
against  a  sponge;  and  as  soon  as  the  sponge  is  saturated,  the 
volatile  liquor  is  squeezed  into  a  phial  and  sold  at  fifteen  carlini 
the  ounce.  .  .  .  There  is  a  small  sort  of  citron  set  apart  for  the 
Jews  of  Leghorn,  who  come  here  every  year  to  buy  them  for  three 
tornesi  a-piece.  As  they  are  destined  for  some  religious  ceremony, 
the  buyers  take  great  care  not  to  pollute  them  by  a  touch  of  the 
naked  hand." — Swinburne's  Travels  in  the  Two  Sicilies,  p.  360. 

t  Mr.  Swinburne  states  that  in  the  days  of  Saracenic  dominion 
at  Eeggio  "  stately  groves  of  palm-trees"  adorned  the  territory, 
but  that  many  were  cut  down  when  the  Eeggiani  repossessed  their 
town,  as  being  memorials  of  infidel  usurpation. 


8  JOURNALS  OF 

proprietor,  the  Cavaliere  Musitano,  who  resides 
there  during  summer.  If  one  were  a  neighbour 
it  would  be  difficult  not  to  covet  that  garden- 
home — at  once  the  most  agreeable  as  to  its 
situation,  and  the  most  superior  to  all  others  in 
the  district  as  to  the  quality,  quantity,  and 
arrangements  of  its  botanical  contents.  Strange 
fruits  are  hanging  on  every  side  (though  none 
of  them  particularly  eatable) ;  one  magnificent 
palm  raises  its  airy  tuft  above  all  the  green 
level  of  shrubs  ;  a  broad  vine-covered  trellis 
shadows  the  court  in  front  of  the  villa  where, 
in  rows  of  little  cages,  many  exotic  birds  were 
rejoicing  under  the  surveillance  of  a  large  red 
and  blue  macaw ;  in  a  word,  the  Villa  Musitano, 
one  of  the  great  lions  of  the  province,  is  full  of 
agreeable  materials,  and  the  friendliness  of  its 
possessor  was  not  among  the  least  of  the 
pleasant  impressions  left  on  our  minds  by 
the  visit. 

At  A ve- Maria  we  returned  to  the  city  to 
make  calls  with  other  letters  of  introduction, 
and  otherwise  to  prepare  for  our  excursion  into 
the  interior  of  the  province. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  9 

July  27. — Assiduous  drawing  passed  away 
the  morning  rapidly.  Owing  to  the  obstruc- 
tions of  cactus  or  aloe  hedges,  walls,  &c.,  it  is 
no  easy  matter  to  get  a  good  general  view  of 
Reggio;  one  of  the  best  I  could  obtain  was 
from  the  loggia  of  a  poor  man's  house,  who 
obligingly  allowed  me  to  sit  in  the  open  door- 
way, although  his  wife  was  still  in  bed,  and 
so  close  to  my  elbow  that  my  drawing  was 
accompanied  by  her  illustrative  remarks.  At 
two  we  dined  with  the  Musitano  family,  who 
kindly  wrote  several  introductory  letters  for 
our  tour.  Our  friend  Consigliere  da  Nava  was 
indefatigable  in  our  interest,  and  had  on  our 
return  to  the  town  already  prepared  fifteen 
notes  to  the  principal  proprietors  in  towns  we 
should  pass  through.  Then,  after  the  usual 
ices,  indispensable  at  sunset,  Don  Gaetano  Grisi 
(Cav.  Musitano's  nephew)  took  no  little  pains 
to  procure  us  such  a  guide  and  mule  as  we 
wanted, — not  always  an  easy  task.  There  is 
this  objection  to  taking  one  individual  into 
your  service  for  the  whole  of  a  long  tour,  viz., 
that  he  may  not  be  acquainted  with  the  remoter 


10  JOURNALS   OF 

parts  of  the  country  to  be  visited  ;  yet,  on  the 
other  hand,  there  is  this  advantage,  that  if  he  be 
tractable  he  soon  gets  into  the  way  of  knowing 
your  habits  and  plans,  and  thereby  saves  much 
of  the  trouble  which  a  change  of  guide  or 
muleteer  at  every  fresh  halting-place  must 
necessarily  occasion. 

July  28. —  Occupied  in  finishing  drawings 
already  commenced,  and  in  procuring  more 
letters,  &c.  There  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
views  of  Keggio  from  the  north  end  of  the 
"  Marine  Parade  ; "  looking  towards  Etna,  the 
straits  of  Messina  appear  like  a  lake  shut  in  by 
the  giant  volcano,  at  its  southern  extremity.  A 
stroll  to  the  Musitano  Villa  ;  a  visit  to  Signer 
Capelli,  who  gave  us  introductions  to  the 
convent  of  Sta  Maria  de'  Polsi,  situated  amongst 
the  most  picturesque  scenes  of  Southern 
Calabria :  these,  with  fresh  attempts  at  combi- 
nazione  with  a  Vetturino,  left  little  of  the 
evening  undisposed  of.  A  man  must  be  guided 
pretty  much  by  hazard  in  arranging  a  tour 
through  a  country  so  little  visited  as  this :  the 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  11 

general  rule  of  keeping  near  the  mountains  is 
perhaps  the  best,  and  if  you  hear  of  a  town,  or 
costume,  or  piece  of  antiquity  anywise  remark- 
able, to  make  a  dash  at  it  as  inclination  may 
devise,  sometimes  to  be  repaid  for  the  trouble, 
— as  often  the  contrary. 

July  29- — We  could  get  no  guide  until  noon, 
an  arrangement  not  ill-fitting  with  our  plan  of 
sleeping  the  first  night  at  Motta  San  Giovanni, 
on  our  way  to  Bova :  so  at  two  we  prepared 
to  start.  We  had  engaged  a  muleteer  for  an 
indefinite  time :  the  expense  for  both  guide 
and  quadruped  being  six  carlini  daily  ;  and  if 
we  sent  him  back  from  any  point  of  our  journey 
it  was  agreed  that  his  charges  should  be 
defrayed  until  he  reached  Eeggio.  Our  man, 
a  grave  tall  fellow  of  more  than  fifty  years  of 
age,  and  with  a  good  expression  of  countenance, 
was  called  Ciccio,*  and  we  explained  to  him 
that  our  plan  was  to  do  always  just  as  we 
pleased — going  straight  a-head  or  stopping  to 


*  "Ciccio"  is  short  for  "  Francesco,"  in  the  Neapolitan  kingdom 
States.     In  the  Eoman  States  it  is  "  Cecco." 


12  JOURNALS  OF 

sketch,  without  reference  to  any  law  but  our 
own  pleasure;    to  all  which  he  replied  by  a 
short   sentence   ending  with — "  D6go ;    dighi, 
doghi,   daghi,    da"   -a    collection    of    sounds 
of   frequent    recurrence    in    Calabrese  lingo, 
and  the  only  definite  portion  of  that  speech 
we  could  ever  perfectly  master.      What  the 
"Dogo"  was  we  never  knew,  though  it  was 
an  object  of  our  keenest  search  throughout  the 
tour  to  ascertain  if  it  were  animal,  mineral,  or 
vegetable.     Afterwards,  by  constant  habit,  we 
arranged  a  sort  of  conversational  communication 
with  friend  Ciccio,  but  we  never  got  on  well 
unless  we  said  "Dogo  si,"  or  "D6go  no"  several 
times  as  an  ad  libitum  appoggiatura,  winding 
up   with   "  Dighi,    d6ghi,    daghi,    da,"    which 
seemed  to  set  all  right.     Ciccio  carried  a  gun, 
but  alas  !  wore  no  pointed  hat ;  nothing  but  a 
Sicilian  long  blue  cap.    Our  minds  had  received 
a  fearful  shock   by  the  conviction  forced  on 
them  during  our  three  days'  stay  at  Keggio, 
namely,  that  there  are  NO  pointed  hats  in  the 
first  or   southern   province  of  Calabria.      The 
costume,  though  varying   a  little  in  different 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  13 

villages,  is  mainly  the  same  as  that  throughout 
Sicily,  and  it  is  only  in  the  provinces  of  Catan- 
zaro  and  Cosenza  where  the  real  (and  awful) 
pyramidal  brigand's  hat  is  adopted.  Ciccio 
tied  four  packets  (one  of  vestments,  &c.,  another 
of  drawing  materials  for  each  man),  plaids, 
umbrellas,  &c..  on  a  quiet-looking  steed,  touching 
whose  qualities  its  owner  was  wholly  silent, 
thereby  giving  me,  who  go  by  contraries  in 
these  lands,  great  hope  that  it  might  be 
worth  a  good  deal,  for  had  it  been  a  total 
failure  one  might  have  looked  for  a  long  tirade 
of  praises  :  and  so,  all  being  adjusted  —  off 
we  set. 

The  road  led  over  the  torrent-bed  and  by 
the  Villa  Musitano,  through  suburban  villages 
for  two  or  three  miles,  and  for  a  considerable 
distance  we  passed  numerous  odoriferous  silk 
factories,*  and  many  detached  cheerful-looking 
houses,  with  lofty  pergolate  f  or  vine  trellises 


*  The  cultivation  of  silkworms  is  carried  on  to  a  great  extent 
in  Calabria,  especially  in  the  territory  of  Reggio. 

f  Pergola,  or  Pergolata,  is  the  general  name  for  any  balcony 
or  trellis  covered  with  vine. 


14  ,  JOURNALS  OF 

spanning  and  shading  the  whole  public  road 
from  side  to  side.  Beyond,  the  broad  dusty 
highway  was  uninteresting  in  its  foregrounds, 
but  the  blue  straits  of  Messina  were  ever  on 
our  right,  with  Etna  beyond,  while  on  the  left 
a  wall  of  hills,  with  Castel  San  Nocito  and  San 
Vito  perched  on  their  summits,  sufficed  for  men 
who  were  all  alive  for  impressions  of  Calabrese 
novelty.  Always  in  sight  also  was  the  town  of 
Motta  San  Giovanni,  our  night's  resting-place, 
but  so  high  up  as  to  promise  a  stout  pull  to 
reach  it. 

When  in  fullest  sight  of  Mongibello,  we 
turned  from  the  coast  and  began  to  ascend  the 
hills.  For  a  while  the  path  lay  on  the  northern 
side,  and  at  every  turn  we  looked  over  a  wider 
expanse  of  the  beautiful  garden-plain  of  Eeggio, 
broken  by  the  lines  of  its  white  torrents,  and 
backed  by  the  straits  and  hills  of  Messina ;  but 
afterwards  we  wound  up  a  path  closely  shut  in 
betwixt  high  sandy  banks,  or  placed  on  the 
edge  of  clay  ravines  looking  over  slopes  thickly 
planted  with  dwarf  vines.  High  winds  pre- 
vented our  making  any  drawing,  and  indeed  it 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  15 

was  nearly  Ave-Maria*  when  we  had  risen 
above  the  weary  sandy  gorges  immediately 
below  the  town,  which  stands  at  a  great  eleva- 
tion, and  overlooks  earth  and  sea  extensively. 
With  little  difficulty  we  found  the  house  of 
Don  Francesco  Mar6poti,  who  received  us  with 
hospitality,  and  without  show  of  ceremony,  only 
apologising  that,  owing  to  his  being  alone  in 
this  his  country  residence,  our  reception  could 
not  be  in  point  of  fare  and  lodging  all  he  could 
wish.  Indeed  this  worthy  person's  establish- 
ment was  not  of  the  most  recherche  kind,  but 
I  had  warned  my  companion  (hitherto  un- 
travelled  in  these  regions)  that  he  would 
probably  meet  with  much  simplicity,  much 
cordiality,  arid  heaps  more  of  dirt  throughout 
Calabria.  There  is  always  in  these  provincial 
towns  a  knot  of  neighbours  who  meet  in  the 
house  of  the  great  man  of  each  little  place, 
to  discuss  the  occurrences  of  the  day  for  an 
hour  or  two  before  supper ;  already  a  long 


*  Ave-Maria  is  half  an  hour  after  the  sun  sets  at  all  times  of 
the  year,  when  it  is  then  dark  in  Italy,  and  the  computation  of 
hours,  1,  2,  3,  &c.,  recommences. 


16  JOURNALS  OF 

perspective  of  such  hours  oppressed  me,  loaded 
with  questions  about  Inghilterra  and  our  own 
plans  and  circumstances.  "  Cosa  c'e  da  vedere 
in  Bagaladi  ?  "  *  said  our  host's  coterie  with  one 
voice,  when  they  heard  we  wanted  to  go  there, 
— and  one  elder  was  fiercely  incredulous,  pro- 
posing that,  if,  as  we  said,  we  were  in  search  of 
the  beautiful  or  remarkable,  we  should  set  out 
directly  for  Montebello  or  Melito,  or  any  place 
but  Bagaladi.  He  also  explained  the  position 
and  attributes  of  England  to  the  rest  of  the 
society,  assuring  them  that  we  had  no  fruit  of 
any  sort,  and  that  all  our  bread  came  from 
Egypt  and  India :  and  as  for  our  race,  with  a 
broad  contempt  for  minute  distinctions,  he  said 
we  were  "  tutti  Francesi,"  an  assertion  we 
faintly  objected  to,  but  were  overruled  by — 
"  in  somma — siete  sempre  una  razza  di  Francesi : 
£  lo  stesso.  vf 

At  last  the  clique  departed,  and  we  sate 
down  with  Don  Francesco  to  supper,  an 
unostentatious  meal,  accompanied  by  tolerable 


*  What  should  there  be  to  see  in  Bagaladi  ? 
t  In  a  word,  you  are  a  sort  of  Frenchmen ;  it's  all  the  same. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  17 

wine,  but  with  a  rural  style  about  the  service, 
&c.,  more  resembling  that  in  the  remoter 
villages  of  the  Abruzzi  than  of  the  towns  near 
any  of  the  provincial  capitals  of  the  northern 
Neapolitan  provinces.  There  was,  however,  no 
want  of  good  will  or  good  breeding,  and  we 
were  neither  bored  by  questions  nor  pressed  to 
eat,  nor  requested  to  sit  up  late ;  so  we  soon 
retired,  and,  on  perceiving  very  clean  beds,  were 
not  slow  in  congratulating  ourselves  on  the 
prosperous  commencement  of  our  Calabrian 
tour. 


18  JOURNALS  OF 


CHAPTER  II. 

Landscape  round  Motta  San  Giovanni. — Second  day's  tour. — The  "toe"  of 
Italy. — Extensive  prospects. — Lofty  mountains. — First  view  of  Bova. — 
Fiumaras,  or  dry  torrent-beds. — Peasants  of  the  district ;  their  complaints 
of  the  devastation  of  the  rivers. — Reach  Bagaladi. — Speculation  as  to 
our  hosts  there. — Don  Pepino  Panutti  and  his  agreeable  wife :  their 
cordiality. — We  remain  at  Bagaladi  and  postpone  Condufori  till  to- 
morrow.— Striking  scenes  in  the  valley. — Village  of  San  Lorenzo. — 
Cheerful  comfort  of  our  host's  house. — Travels  of  his  wife,  and  the  cause 
thereof. — Repose  of  night  scene. 

July  30. — How  like  a  vast  opal  was  Etna  as 
the  sun  rose  and  lighted  up  the  immense 
prospect  from  our  southern  window  !  But 
alas !  a  world  of  cloud  rose  also,  and  soon 
threatened  rain. 

P and  I  had  a  discussion  as  to  what  plan 

we  should  pursue  touching  domestics  in  this 
our  "  giro/'  *  and  we  agreed  that  it  would  be 
right  to  offer  something  :  but  although  we  had 
a  good  opportunity  while  our  host  was  inditing 


Tour. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  19 

an  introductory  letter  to  a  relative  at  Baga- 
ladi,  our  proffered  coin  was  decidedly  though 
respectfully  refused. 

After  coffee  Don  Francesco  lionised  us  over 
the  little  town,  the  older  part  of  which  is  half 
deserted  and  crowned  by  a  ruined  chapel 
commanding  a  world  of  distant  view  ;  the  lower 
half  of  Motta  San  Giovanni  is  composed  of 
detached  houses,  forming  very  picturesque 
groups,  which  combine  beautifully  with  the 
severe  and  decided  forms  of  the  hills  around ; 
already  I  begin  to  perceive  that  Calabrian 
scenery  has  a  character  peculiar  to  itself.  By 
six  we  were  ready  to  start,  our  friendly  host 
begging  us  to  wait  on  account  of  the  inevitable 
rain,  but  we  were  proof  against  fears  and 
entreaties. 

The  outskirts  of  Motta  are  beautiful,  and 
there  are  many  scraps  of  Poussinesque  land- 
scape which  I  would  fain  have  lingered  to 
draw,  but  a  drizzling  rain,  augmenting  rapidly, 
forbade  delay  ;  so  we  followed  Dighi  Ddghi  Da 
along  lanes  and  paths,  over  the  slope  of  bare 
hills,  and  up  a  long  ravine,  till  the  weather 


c  2 


20  JOURNALS  OF 

cleared,  and  we  arrived  at  an  elevated  plateau, 
whence  the  whole  "Toe  of  Italy"  is  finely 
discernible,  a  sea  of  undulating  lines  of  varied 
forms  down  to  the  Mediterranean ;  a  few 
towns  glittered  here  and  there,  and  towering 
over  the  most  southern  extremity  of  land,  a 
high  cluster  of  rocks,  the  wild  crags  of  Pente- 
datelo,  particularly  arrested  our  attention. 
Before  us,  eastward,  is  the  lofty  chain  of 
mountains,  on  the  last  or  southernmost  peak 
of  which,  Bova,  whither  we  were  bound,  is 
visible  :  but  when  we  asked  whether  we  should 
reach  that  town  to-day,  the  silent  Ciccio  turned 
up  his  chin  and  shook  his  head  with  an  air  of 
decided  negative  which  rendered  language 
wholly  unnecessary.  The  sun  came  out  as  we 
descended  a  steep  mountain  path  towards  a 
white  fiumara  or  dry  torrent-course,  along 
which  we  toiled  and  broiled  patiently  for  an 
hour  or  two.  Lonely  places  of  devastation  are 
these  fiumaras :  blinding  in  their  white  or  sandy 
brilliancy,  barring  all  view  from  without  their 
high  cliff- sides,  and  recalling  by  the  bare  tract 
of  ground  right  and  left  of  their  course  how 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  21 

dismal  and  terrible  the  rage  of  their  wintry 
watery  occupant  has  once  been  throughout  its 
destroying  career.  Bagaladi  was  yet  far  distant, 
and  we  were  glad  to  meet  in  a  garden  of  pear- 
trees  some  chance  labourers,  who  gave  us  as 
much  fruit  as  we  wished.  Bitterly  they  com- 
plained of  their  abodes — "We  do  not  know 
what  we  are  to  reap ;  sow  we  never  so  muchr 
the  torrent  swells  and  carries  away  all  our 
work."  Even  with  the  bright  blue  sky  above, 
I  confess  to  a  heart-heavy  feeling  among  these 
stern  scenes,  where  nature  appears  independent 
of  man,  and  where  any  attempt  on  his  part  to 
set  up  his  staff  permanently  seems  but  allowed 
for  a  season,  that  his  defeat  may  be  the  more 
completely  observable  after  years  of  laborious 
cultivation. 

One  more  ridge  yet  remained  betwixt  us  and 
the  valley  of  Bagaladi,  and  from  its  crown  we 
beheld  an  opposite  range  of  loftier  and  more 
thickly  wooded  heights,  with  the  aerial  Bova 
above,  still,  as  it  were,  in  the  very  clouds :  then, 
descending  to  the  level  of  another  torrent,  we 
arrived  by  lanes  among  pear-gardens  at  the 


22  JOURNALS  OF 

village,  which  stands  in  two  scattered  portions 
on  either  side  of  the  broad  fiumara ;  that  had, 
indeed,  destroyed  a  great  part  of  this  lonely 
little  spot  of  inhabited  earth  in  the  preceding 
autumn. 

It  is  always  a  great  amusement  to  us  to 
speculate  on  the  reception  we  are  likely  to 
meet  with  from  our  unknown  hosts  on  arriving 
at  any  new  place,  and  on  who  or  what  they 
may  prove  to  be.  In  the  present  case,  as  the 
family  Panutti  had  dined  (it  was  2  P.M.)  and 
were  all  in  bed,  it  was  some  time  before  we 
gained  admission  to  a  small  cottage  annexed  to 
a  large  house  in  process  of  building  ;  but,  not- 
withstanding our  unseasonable  arrival,  Don 
Peppino  Panutti  (a  good  hearty  fellow,  capo- 
urbano*  of  the  district),  and  a  very  pretty  little 
woman,  his  wife,  received  us  in  the  most 
friendly  manner  imaginable,  and  soon  refreshed 
us  with  a  substantial  meal  of  maccaroni,  &c., 
good  wine,  and  sparkling  snow.  Much  did 
these  good  people  press  us  to  stay  all  night. 


Head    of  the    rural   or    district  police,    established    in  the 
Neapolitan  provinces. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  23 

Condufdri,  the  next  village,  was  yet  several 
hours'  distant ;  nor  could  we  be  sure  of  meeting 
with  so  clean  a  dwelling  and  such  agreeable 
hosts ;  so  we  agreed  to  remain,  and  make  the 
cloud-capped  Bova  our  next  day's  journey  ; 
besides,  we  had  footed  it  for  more  than  seven 
hours  under  a  hot  sun  and  had  need  of  rest, 
which  we  were  glad  to  obtain  after  dinner. 

On  waking  from  our  siesta,  the  sun  was 
already  low,  but  I  rushed  out  to  get  at  least 
one  recollection  of  this  curious  Calabrian  home, 
and  though  surrounded  by  wondering  gazers, 
I  contrived  to  do  so  before  it  actually  grew 
dark.  It  is  a  wild  scene  ;  the  shattered  houses 
still  hang  ruinously  over  the  shivered  clay  sides 
of  the  mighty  torrent-track,  a  broad  sweeping 
line  of  white  stone,  far,  far  winding  through 
the  valley  below ;  above  rise  the  high  hills  we 
have  to  cross  to-morrow,  half  in  golden  light, 
half  in  purplest  shadow ;  and  among  the  top- 
most furrows  and  chasms  sparkles  the  little 
village  of  San  Lorenzo — atom  signs  of  human 
life  made  more  striking  by  their  contrast  with 
the  solitude  around.  We  returned  to  our 


24  JOURNALS  OF 

humble  but  very  clean  home,  and  sate  us  down 
at  a  little  table  to  pen  out  some  of  our  sketches 
as  comfortably  as  if  we  had  lived  at  Bagaladi 
for  the  last  five  years.  The  evening  closed 
with  a  very  agreeable  supper,  when,  in  addition 
to  our  host's  pretty  young  wife,  his  eldest 
daughter  by  a  former  helpmate  made  one  of 
the  party.  The  very  superior  manner  of  our 
hostess  and  of  her  household  arrangements 
surprised  us  less  when  we  found  she  was  a 
Livornese  by  birth,  and  moreover  had  seen 
Malta,  Constantinople,  and  various  other  parts 
of  the  w7orld,  having  gone  for  awhile  to  join  her 
father  in  some  remote  place,  whither  he  had 
fled  from  Livorno  on  account  of  what  Donna 
Giacinta  Panutti  quietly  called  "  Una  piccola 
disgrazia,  cioe,  un'  omicidio."  * 

At  night  the  moon  was  full ;  the  wide  valley 
was  all  still,  save  for  the  twitter  of  its  myriad 
hosts  of  grasshoppers ; — a  solitary  region,  but 
beautifully  majestic. 


A  little  accident ;  that  is  to  say,  he  killed  some  one. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  25 


CHAPTER  III. 

Leave  Bagaladi,  and  set  out  for  Condufori. — Fatiguing  hills. — Bova  once  more 
—  a  long  way  off  yet. — Woodland  scenery. — Tracts  of  beautiful  land- 
scape.— Cicadas. — Descent  to  another  fiumara. — Arrive  at  Condufori. 
— Greek  language  spoken. — House  of  Don  Giuseppe  Tropseano — repulse 

therefrom.  —  Alarm   of   the    hostess.  —  Our    retreat   to    an   osteria 

Forlorn  Calabrian  accommodations. — "Turchi"  spectators. — Unprepos- 
sessing Cyclopean  girl. —  Pursue  our  way.  —  Intense  amusement  of  the 
silent  Ciccio. — Ascent  to  Amendolia. — Magnificent  prospect.  —  Laborious 
ascent. — Good-natured  peasants. — Bova  is  reached  at  last. — House  of 
Don  Antonio  Marzano. — Another  hospitable  reception. 

July  31 By  sunrise,  the  little    Livornese 

lady  had  given  us  our  coffee,  with  some  orgeat 
and  abundance  of  little  confetti.*  Ciccio,  who, 
as  far  as  we  have  yet  gone,  seems  the  prince  of 
faultless  guides  and  attendants,  was  in  complete 
readiness,  and  Don  Peppino  Panutti  accom- 
panied us  down  the  fiumara  on  our  way.  Short 
as  had  been  our  visit,  we  regretted  leaving  these 
friendly  people.  A  long  pull  up  winding  paths 


Sugar-plums  or  sweetmeats. 


26  JOURNALS  OP 

led  to  the  hill  below  San  Lorenzo,  and  our 
last  night's  quarters  looked  like  a  cluster  of 
dominoes  far  below.  From  the  summit,  once 
more  the  blue  distant  Bova  soared  aloft  in 
apparently  unreachable  dignity ;  yet  we  could 
now  discern  a  sort  of  castle,  and  peaks  of  rock, 
and  fringes  of  forest.  Between  us  and  it  were 
beautiful  tracts  of  woodland,  groups  of  fine 
trees,  tumblings  of  earth,  and  not  a  few  of  those 
painful  fiumaras  through  which  we  knew  full 
well  we  were  doomed  to  toil  ere  we  commenced 
our  ascent  to  the  Greek  town  ;  for  Bova  is  said 
to  be  the  last  remnant  of  Magna  Graecia,  still, 
with  four  adjoining  villages,  preserving  the 
language  and  some  of  the  habits  of  its  ancestral 
colonisers. 

The  morning's  walk  was  most  delicious:  at 
every  step  its  scenery  became  grander,  in  vast 
mountainous  extent  of  distance,  and  close  oak- 
filled  vales.  All  my  hopes  of  Calabrian  scenery 
are  fulfilled.  Stopping  here  and  there  to  make 
an  outline  of  what  most  struck  us  (though 
these  are  landscapes  not  to  be  hastily  drawn), 
we  arrived  about  ten  on  a  sunny  height,  where, 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  27 

beneath  a  spreading  oak,  we  halted  to  draw  a 
glorious  seaward  view,  where  rock  and  ravine, 
wood  and  vale  and  water,  were  so  mingled  as 
to  form  one  of  the  finest  of  scenes.  The  whole 
atmosphere  seemed  alive  with  cicada?,*  who 
buzzed  and  fizzed,  and  shivered  and  shuddered, 


*  The  cicada  (C.  Plebceia),  or  cicala,  ia  the  most  noisy  of  insects, 
and  during  the  heat  of  the  day,  throughout  the  months  of  July 
and  August,  the  clamour  made  by  the  infinite  numbers  of  this 
small  creature  in  Southern  Italy  is  most  remarkable.  I  cannot 
remember  ever  to  have  heard  them  sing  (so  to  speak)  before 
sunrise  or  after  sunset ;  but  as  soon  as  the  first  ray  of  morning 
warmed  the  tops  of  the  olives  in  the  glens  at  Tivoli,  or  the  red 
rocks  of  Amalfi,  earth  and  air  resounded  with  the  lively  insect 
armies.  At  the  latter  place  the  children  often  catch  them,  and 
tie  them  by  twos  and  threes  to  their  ears,  when  the  effect  produced 
must  strongly  resemble  a  scissor-grinder's  wheels  in  full  action  on 
each  side  of  the  head.  While  at  Eeggio  it  did  not  occur  to  us 
to  test  the  truth  of  the  report,  that,  on  that  portion  of  the  west 
side  of  Calabria,  cicale  never  make  any  noise,  which  they  are 
said  not  to  do  by  ancient  authors  as  well  as  moderns;  and 
various  causes  have  been  assigned  for  the  different  behaviour  of 
these  unmelodious  songsters  on  the  Eeggian  and  Locrian 
territories.  Marapoti  notices  a  popular  version  of  the  subject, 
that  St.  Paul,  while  preaching  in  Ehegium,  was  so  disturbed  by 
these  perverse  creatures,  who  would  not  let  the  congregation  hear 
his  sermon,  that  he  anathematised  all  that  generation  of  Ehegian 
cicale  ;  and  their  descendants  have  been  mute  ever  since.  "  But 
this,"  says  the  judicious  Marapoti,  "  I  cannot  believe  to  be  true, 
because  the  cicale  only  appear  in  June,  and  St.  Paul  was  at 
Ehegium  in  the  month  of  March." 


28  JOURNALS  OF 

and  ground  knives  on  every  branch  above  and 
around.  At  eleven  we  began  to  descend 
towards  Condufori,  by  paths  which  even  the 
alert  and  accomplished  horse  of  Ciccio  found 
very  unsatisfactory ; — beautiful  are  those  wild 
oak  woods ! — and  at  last  we  lost  sight  of  the 
eternal  Bova,  and  were  once  more  threading  a 
fiumara  like  a  furnace  between  white  cliffs, 
speculating  on  our  reception  at  Condufori,  and 
devoutly  hoping  our  next  host  might  not  have 
dinner  ere  we  arrived.  On  our  asking  Ciccio 
as  to  the  properties  and  characteristics  of  the 
village  and  its  habitants,  we  could  get  nothing 
from  him  but  "  Son  Turchi,"  *  except  that  we 
construed  into  a  negative  testimonial  his  volun- 
teering the  information  "  that  we  had  done  well 
to  sleep  last  night  at  Bagaladi, — dighi,  doghi, 
da."  So  we  thought  too  ;  for  our  walk  of  this 
morning  would  have  been  too  much  to  have 
added  to  that  of  yesterday,  not  to  speak  of  the 
loss  of  such  scenery  after  dusk. 

Condufori,  a  little  village,  wedged  in  a  nook 

*  They  are  Turks. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  29 

between  two  hills,  the  torrent  at  its  feet,  and 
the  mountain  mass  of  high  Apennine  threaten- 
ingly above  it,  was  at  length  reached,  and  the 
house  of  Don  Giuseppe  Tropaeano  discovered. 
Alas  !  the  master  was  away  at  the  Marina,*  or 
Scala,  and  our  appearance  threw  his  old  sister 
into  such  a  state  of  alarm,  that  we  speedily 
perceived  all  hope  of  lodging  and  dinner  was 
at  an  end.  We  stood  humbly  on  the  steps  of 
the  old  lady's  house,  and  entreated  her  only  to 
read  the  letter  we  had  brought — but  not  she  J 
she  would  have  nothing  to  say  to  us.  "  Sono 
femmina,"  "Sono  femmina,"  she  constantly 
declared  —  a  fact  we  had  never  ventured  to 
doubt,  in  spite  of  her  immoderate  size  and 
ugliness — "  Sono  femmina,  e  non  so  niente."f 
No  persuasions  could  soften  her,  so  we  were 
actually  forced  to  turn  away  in  hunger  and 


*  All  or  most  of  the  hill  towns  on  the  coast  of  Southern  Italy 
have  a  sort  of  port,  or  quay,  or  haven  on  the  shore,  where,  in 
default  of  roads,  they  embark  and  disembark  goods,  and  the  pro- 
duce of  their  territory;  this  "port"  they  call  the  Marina,  or 
Scala  di &c.,  the  town  to  which  it  appertains. 

t  I  am  a  woman,  I  am  a  woman,  and  know  nothing  about 
anything. 


30  JOURNALS  OF 

disgust.  As  for  Ciccio,  he  merely  took  his 
short  pipe  from  his  lips,  and  said,  "  Son  Turchi 
— d6ghi,  da." 

Neither  man  nor  horse  could  proceed  further 
under  the  broiling  heat,  and  unrefreshed  by 
food ;  so  we  found  a  most  vile  taverna,  where, 
for  want  of  better  accommodation,  we  prepared 
to  abide.  Ciccio, — the  Phoenix  of  guides, — 
stowed  away  the  horse  and  baggage,  and  set 
the  "  Turchi "  to  get  lots  of  eggs,  which,  with 
wine  and  snow,  made  our  dinner.  It  was  more 
difficult  to  find  a  place  to  eat  it  in,  and  we 
truly  congratulated  ourselves  on  not  having 
come  on  to  Condufori  last  night.  The  wretched 
hut  we  were  in  was  more  than  half  choked  up 
by  the  bed  of  a  sick  man,  with  barrels,  many 
calf-skins  filled  with  wine,  and  a  projecting 
stone  fireplace ;  moreover,  it  was  as  dark  as 
Erebus ;  so  in  the  palpable  obscure  I  sat  down 
on  a  large  live  pig,  who  slid  away,  to  my  dis- 
gust, from  under  me,  and  made  a  portentous 
squeaking,  to  the  disquiet  of  a  horde  of  fowls, 
perched  on  every  available  spot  above  and 
below.  The  little  light  the  place  rejoiced  in 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  31 

was  disturbed  by  a  crowd  of  thirty  or  forty 
"  Turchi,"  who  glared  at  us  with  the  utmost 
curiosity,  and  talked  in  their  vernacular  tongue 
without  ceasing.  We  had  also  a  glimpse  now 
and  then  of  our  Hebe  handmaid,  the  assistant 
or  "  waitress "  in  the  establishment,  a  woman 
with  one  eye,  whose  countenance  struck  both 
of  us  as  a  model  of  a  Medusa:  nor  was  her 
mistress  (the  hostess)  much  better.  Spite  of 
all  this,  we  nevertheless  greatly  enjoyed  our 
roasted  eggs,  and  were  soon  ready  to  start 
again ;  for  although  the  heat  was  great  out  of 
doors,  yet  it  was  nearly  as  much  so  within  ; 
besides,  Bova  was  a  weary  way  of,  and  Dighi 
Doghi  Da  made  signs  of  impatience,  so  he  paid 
for  our  lunch,  and  off  we  went  once  more  into 
the  blazing  fiumara. 

We  had  not  gone  far,  before  a  chuckling 
sound  was  heard  to  proceed  from  the  hitherto 
imperturbable  Ciccio,  who  presently  went  into 
convulsions  of  suppressed  laughter,  which  con- 
tinued to  agitate  him  for  more  than  an  hour, 
only  broken  by  the  words,  "  Sono  femmina,  e  non 
so  niente, — dighi,  da,"  by  which  we  were  led  to 


32  JOURNALS  OF 

perceive  that  the  rude  reception  given  us  by 
Mrs.  Tropaeano  had  made  a  forcible  impression 
on  our  quaint  quiet  guide's  imagination. 

Leaving  the  dry  river-bed  of  Condufori,  we 
climbed  the  second  ridge,  and  descended  to 
another  fiumara,  which  runs  to  the  sea  below 
Amendolia,*  a  castellated,  but  deserted  town, 
half  way  up  to  the  skies,  as  it  were,  and  yet 
far  below  Bova.  Here  we  entered  the  Dis- 
tretto  di  Gerace,f  and  were  ordered  to  halt 
by  some  gendarmes,  who  came  from  a  hut  and 
inspected  our  passports,  after  which  delay  we 
began  to  climb  the  ascent  to  Bova  in  earnest, 
and  for  many  an  hour.  But  still  we  wearily 
worked  on  and  up,  Bova  seemed  always  like 
the  phantom  bark — never  the  nearer : — we  had 
long  passed  the  level  of  the  Castle  of  Amendolia, 
and  were  looking  down  into  its  empty  courts, 


*  Amendolia,  by  some  authors  considered  as  identical  with  a 
Chalcidian  city — Peripolis,  said  to  be  the  birth-place  of  Praxiteles, 
produces  honey,  and  mushrooms,  and  asparagus,  all  the  year 
round ;  spoken  of  by  Pacichelli  as  a  considerable  place  in  his 
time ;  by  Swinburne  as  a  poor  village. 

t  The  province  of  Calabria  Ulteriore  Prima  is  divided  into  three 
Distretti — Reggio,  Gerace,  Palmi.  See  page  2. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  33 

yet  the  unattainable  peak  was  still  far  above 
us, — and  truly  magnificent  was  the  view,  look- 
ing back  from  the  points  of  rock  where  we 
frequently  halted  to  rest,  after  passing  the 
thick  oak  woods  which  encircle  Bova.  With 
these  objects  below  our  feet,  the  immense 
perspective  of  diminishing  lines  and  torrents, 
finished  by  the  complete  and  simple  outline  of 
Etna  beyond  the  sea,  is  certainly  one  of  the 
very  finest  scenes  to  be  found  even  in  beautiful 
Italy.  While  drawing  it,  numerous  groups  of 
picturesque  peasants  passed  us,  on  their  return 
homewards,  and  almost  all  stopped  and  offered 
pears,  in  the  most  good-natured  way  possible. 
After  a  last  hard  climb,  we  arrived  at  Bova,  as 
the  evening  had  made  all  things  dark  and  alike, 
and  we  were  unable  to  perceive  "  what  like " 
was  the  palazzo  of  Don  Antonio  Marzano, 
who,  with  his  wife,  received  us  with  the  greatest 
hospitality,  on  reading  the  recommendatory 
letter  furnished  us  by  Don  Antonio  da  Nava. 
The  greatest  penance  of  this  roving  life  is  the 
state  of  exhaustion  and  weariness  in  which  you 
arrive  at  your  evening  abode  ;  and  as  you  feel 


34  JOURNALS  OF 

very  properly  obliged  to  play  the  polite  for  a 
certain  time  to  your  entertainers,  the  wrestling 
between  a  sense  of  duty  and  an  oppressive 
inclination  to  sleep  is  most  painful.  The  good 
people,  too,  persist  in  delaying  supper  (in  order 
that  they  may  provide  a  good  one)  till  you  are 
reduced  (ere  it  comes)  to  a  state  of  torture  and 
despair,  in  the  protracted  struggle  between 
hunger,  Morpheus,  and  civility. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  35 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Situation  and  appearance  of  Bova. — Traditional  visit  of  C.  J.  Fox  thereto. 
— Remarks  on  the  origin  of  the  Bovani. — Changes  about  to  take  place 
in  the  affairs  of  Bova. — Its  Marina,  or  sea-port. — The  Bishop. — Delightful 
quiet,  and  beauty  of  scenery.  —  Exquisite  view  of  Etna.  —  Honey.  — 
Luxuriance  of  the  prickly  pear,  or  cactus. — Remain  at  the  Palazzo 
Marzano. — Sonnet  by  Don  Antonio. — Arrangement  of  places  to  be  visited 
on  the  route  to  Sta  Maria  di  Polsi. — We  leave  Bova  with  regret. — Descent 
from  the  mountain. — The  Cyclopean  girl  of  Condufori  again. — Continued 
scenes  of  forest  or  valley. — Mid-day  and  approach  to  Palizzi. — Its  singular 
situation,  and  castle. — Narrow  streets  and  stairs :  wild  Calabrese  town. 
— Beautiful  Palizzana. — Brown  Cupids. — The  Taverna  of  Palizzi:  its 
inhabitants  and  furniture. — Astonishment  and  questions  of  the  host,  &c. 
— Political  motives  imputed  to  wandering  artists. — Strange  appearance 
of  Palizzi  from  below. — Prickly  pears  and  other  difficulties. — Departure 
from  Palizzi. — Hill  of  Pietrapennata :  its  most  exquisite  forests. — 
Approach  to  Staiti :  its  Calabrian  character  and  singular  aspect. — 
Costume  of  women. — Don  Domenico  Musitani :  his  disagreeable  house. — 
Hospitality  qualified  by  circumstances.  —  Silkworms  and  their  disagree- 
ables.— Contrast  between  the  various  abodes  in  such  tours. 

August  1. — Our  host  was  ready,  in  expecta- 
tion of  showing  us  some  of  the  best  points  of 
view,  which  around  this  eagle's-nest  of  a  place 
are  most  extraordinary.  The  great  charac- 
teristic of  Calabrian  towns,  picturesquely 

D   2 


36  JOURNALS  OF 

speaking,  appears  to  consist  in  the  utter 
irregularity  of  their  design,  the  houses  being 
built  on,  under,  and  among,  separate  masses  of 
rock,  as  if  it  had  been  intended  to  make  them 
look  as  much  like  natural  bits  of  scenery  as 
possible.  The  Marzano  Palazzo  is  among  the 
most  prominent  of  the  houses  here,  and,  homely 
and  unornamented  as  it  is,  stands  on  its  brown 
crag,  looking  over  worlds  of  blue  wood,  and 
Sicily  floating  on  the  horizon's  edge,  with  a 
most  imposing  grandeur  —  and  just  where  a 
painter  would  have  put  it. 

Our  host,  Don  Antonio,  lives  entirely  on  his 
property  in  this  remote  place,  though,  like  most 
of  the  Possidenti  hereabouts,  he  was  educated 
at  Naples.  Albeit  a  scholar  as  regards  Greek 
and  Latin  authors,  his  knowledge  of  English 
geography  and  personages  is  limited,  and  he 
refers  in  rather  a  misty  manner  to  our  "  com- 
patriota  glorioso  il  grande  Fox  ;  "*  who,  he  says, 

*  "  Our  glorious  compatriot,  the  great  Fox.  But  whether  it 
was  before  or  after  he  governed  England  with  Lord  Pitt  • ." 

I  have  lately  learned  from  Edward  H.  Bunbury,  Esq.,  M.P., 
that  an  uncle  of  his,  who  was  nephew  of  the  celebrated  Charles 
James  Fox,  actually  did  visit  Bova  in  1829,  and  hence  the  not 
very  surprising  error  of  our  host. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  37 

once  came  to  Bova  to  study  geology ;  "  ma  se 
fosse  prima  o  dopo  che  governasse  1'  Inghilterra 
insieme    con    Lord   Pitt/'  —  this    he    did    not 
clearly  know.     According  to  our  friend,  Bova 
(with  the  four  casali  mentioned  in  page  26,  all 
of  whose  inhabitants  speak  a  corrupt  Greek, 
and  are  called  Turchi  by  their  neighbours,)  is 
a  real  old  Grecian  settlement,   or  rather,  the 
representative    of    one    formerly    existing    at 
Amendolia,  and  dating  from  the  time  of  Locris 
and  other  colonies.    The  Bovani  are  particularly 
anxious  to  impress  on  the  minds  of  strangers 
that  they  have  no  connection  with  the  modern 
emigrants  from  Albania,  &c.     (See  "  Illustrated 
Exc.  in  Italy,"  vol.  i.)  *     In  no  list  of  these 


*  Since  the  above  was  written,  I  have  referred  to  the  opinions 
of  several  authors  as  to  the  antiquity  of  the  Greek  settlements 
in  this  part  of  Italy.  Many  circumstances  combine  to  persuade 
me  that  the  following  view,  held  by  the  Hon.  Keppel  Craven  on 
the  subject,  is  most  probably  the  correct  one,  namely,  that 
although  the  inhabitants  of  Bova  are  not  to  be  looked  upon  as  the 
lineal  descendants  of  the  Locrians  or  Bhegians,  and  that  their 
settlements  are  not  to  be  traced  to  a  more  remote  era  than  that 
of  the  lower  Greek  empire, — "  previous,  it  is  true,  to  the  invasion 
of  the  Saracens,  or  the  settlements  of  the  Normans,  yet  that 
they  are  infinitely  more  ancient  than  the  establishment  of  the 


38  JOURNALS  OF 

settlers,  as    far   as   I    can    trace,   are    any  of 
these     southern    Greco-Italian    establishments 


Epirote  and  Morean  colonies,  though  as  distantly  removed  from 
those  which  emigrated  in  the  classic  ages  of  ancient  Greece." 

1.  In  the  laborious  Dizionario,  by  Giustiniani,  all  the  dates  of 
the  various  emigrations,  six  in  number,  are  given,  whether  from 
Albania  or  the  Morea;   and  the  places  of  abode  are  carefully 
enumerated  to  the  amount  of  forty-five  distinct  towns  and  villages 
in  the  various  provinces  of  the  kingdom.    Among  these  no  mention 
is  made  of  Bova,  or  of  its  adjacent  casali,  Affrico,  Condufori,  &c., 
although  these  places  are  individually  detailed  in  the  usual  manner 
in  the  body  of  the  Dizionario. 

2.  I  did  not  perceive  at  Bova  any  of  those  traces  of  costume 
(of  the  differences  of  Albanian  or  Greek  dialect  I  unfortunately 
could  not  judge)  or  manner,  which  in  other  of  the  later  Albanian 
or  Moreote  settlements  which  I  have  visited  are  so  remarkable. 

3.  Marapoti,  who  wrote  in  1600,  and  who  devoted  considerable 
attention  to  the  description  of  the  habits  and  manners  of  the 
Albanian  and  Moreote  settlers,  says  that  their  Church  services 
are  celebrated  neither  in  Latin  nor  Greek,  and  is  very  diffuse 
in  notices  concerning  their  wild  modes  of  life,   their  abode  in 
"  Tugurii "  or  caves,  and  their  mode  of  dancing  (evidently  the 
same  as  that  practised  by  the  modern  Epirotes  and  Greeks),  their 
cooking  of  sheep  whole,  &c.,  which  if  molested  they  leave  and 
burn.    But  he  by  no  means  confounds  these  very  distinct  people 
with  those  around  Eeggio,  of  whom  he  says,  "  In  questi  casali 
(Motta  Leucoptera, — the  modern  Motta  S.  Giovanni — [Pacichelli], 
— Sant'  Agata,  &c.)  comunemente  si  parla  in  lingua  Greca,  &c., 
che  anche  s'vsa  nella  piu  gran  parte  del'  hdbitationi  convecine  a 
Reggio"  p.  61.     Here  is  no  mention  of  Albanesi  or  Moreoti. 

4.  Pacichelli  (1703)  alludes  to  the  Greek  language  as  spoken 
in  the  district  of  Bova,  but  does  not  mention  the  inhabitants 
having  emigrated,  as  he  does  those  of  Barile,  &c.  &c. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  39 

included :  their  great  distance  from  the  more 
frequented  parts  of  the  peninsula,  and  their 
consequently  scanty  intercourse  with  their 
neighbours,  have,  according  to  their  own 
account,  contributed  to  keep  their  race  dis- 
tinct. From  the  same  causes — the  vast  height 
at  which  the  city  is  built,  and  its  remoteness 
from  any  channels  of  communication  with  the 
capital,  even  the  most  ordinary  traffic  is  of 
necessity  tedious  and  difficult ;  but  a  great 
change  seems  about  to  be  wrought  in  the 
affairs  of  Bova  ;  for  the  present  Bishop  is 
doing  all  in  his  power  to  attract  the  in- 
habitants to  the  Marina  di  Bova,  an  increasing 


5.  Of  Bossano,  Mr.  Swinburne  says,  "  so  late  as  the  sixteenth 
century,  the  inhabitants  of  this  city  spoke  the  Greek  language,' 
&c. ;  but  I  find  no  mention  of  the  inhabitants  of  Rossano  having 
emigrated  from  Albania  or  Greece.  It  would  be  desirable  to 
learn  on  what  authority  Mr.  Swinburne  remarks,  that  the  people 
of  Bova  "  emigrated  from  Albania  only  a  few  centuries  ago ;  many 
of  these  Albanese  settlements  are  poor,  those  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Bova  remarkably  so."  The  observation  is  repeated  in 
Sir  J.  Hobhouse's  (Lord  Broughton)  "  Journey  through  Albania.' 

Would  it  not  then  rather  appear  that  the  statements  of 
Keppel  Craven  are  correct  ?  "Why  should  Bova,  the  largest  place 
of  all,  have  escaped  the  notice  of  all  Italian  writers,  and  have 
been  unknown  by  its  own  inhabitants  to  be  of  Albanian  origin  ? 


40  JOURNALS  OF 

village  by  the  sea-side.  Hither,  through  the 
episcopal  influence,  the  public  offices  and 
residence  of  the  governor,  &c.,  are  already 
removed,  and  many  families  follow  them,  rather 
than  have  the  present  annoyance  of  the  steep 
ascent.  But  the  old  possessors  of  property  in 
the  town  thus  in  process  of  compulsory  migra- 
tion, cling  stedfastly  to  the  site  of  their 
ancestral  homes,  and  oppose,  as  far  as  they 
dare,  the  innovating  schemes  of  the  go-a-head 
moderns.  Thus,  even  in  this  Ultima  Thule 
of  Italy,  domestic  dissension  is  rife  ;  and  a 
severe  illness  having  attacked  the  venerable 
Yescovo  within  the  last  month,  the  aspirations 
for  his  recovery  on  earth,  or  his  translation 
to  the  world  above,  are  less  the  impulses  of 
abstract  charity  or  piety,  than  of  the  feelings 
which  actuate  the  parties  in  this  Bovan  feud. 

Our  day  passed  quietly  away  between  lion- 
izing and  drawing :  the  Marzano  family,  plain, 
homely,  well-bred  people,  was  of  the  friendliest. 
At  sunset  we  sauntered  in  what  they  termed, 
"  II  Giardino,"  one  of  those  weed-full  dis- 
arranged plots  of  ground,  so  delightful  to  the 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  41 

"  dolce  far  niente "  of  Italian  life,  and  so 
inducive  of  "  lotus-eating,"  quiet  and  idleness  ; 
—a  pergola- walk,  tangled  with  grass  below  and 
fig-bushes  hanging  above  over  walls  of  gray  rock, 
commands  vistas,  among  the  vine-branches,  of 
the  long  graceful  form  of  Etna,  with  clear 
lines  of  rock  and  river  sweeping  down  to  the 
far  sea.  Then  there  were  hives,  with  won- 
drously  good  honey ;  for  superiority  in  which 
product  Bova  and  Amendolia  contend  as 
zealously  as  they  dispute  their  several  titles 
to  be  styled  the  birthplace  of  Praxiteles,  the 
Greek  sculptor.  The  cactus  grows  in  immense 
luxuriance  over  every  crag  and  mountain  side 
hereabouts — it  is  the  very  weed  of  the  country : 
the  fruit,  which  at  its  best  may  be  compared 
to  a  very  insipid  apricot,  is  greatly  valued  by 
the  Calabrians,  and  seems  to  form  no  small 
proportion  of  the  food  of  the  poorer  classes. 

From  the  precipices  which  frown  above  the 
numerous  fiumaras  towards  the  shore,  this 
extraordinary  vegetable  hangs  downward  in 
grotesque  festoons  and  chains  of  great  length, 
and  in  many  places  forms  a  thickly-matted 


42  JOURNALS  OF 

surface,  which  to  any  fortress  on  the  cliff  above 
would  be  a  complete  defence.  In  early  summer 
its  bright  yellow  blossoms  add  a  charm  to  its 
strange  and  wild  appearance. 

August  2. — A  repetition  of  yesterday — was 
passed  in  drawing  about  the  rock  town  of 
Bova.  The  Bovani  take  great  interest  in  our 
performances ;  and  Don  Antonio  makes  a  sonnet 
thereon,  which  I  append,*  notwithstanding  it 
is  in  praise  of  my  sketches,  as  a  specimen  of 
"  unpublished  "  Calabrese  poetry. 


ALL    EGKEGIO  DISEGNATORE  PAESISTA   SIG.    ODOARDO   LEAR,    NEL  DIPINGERE 
DELLE   VEDUTE   NELLA   CITTA   DI   BOVA. 

SONETTO. 
Salve  genio  d' Albione !  oh  come  e  bello, 

Veder  natura  su  le  pinte  carte 
Figlie  del  tuo  pensier,  del  tuo  pennello 

Dal  vero  tratte  con  mirabil  arte ! 
lo  la  veggo  le  roccie,  ed  il  castello 

Le  case,  il  campanile,  e  quasi  in  parte 
Tutta  la  patria  mia :  e  il  poverello 

Che  dal  monte  per  giu  vi  si  diparte. 
E  se  per  baize  e  valli,  e  boschi  ombrosi, 

Molto  questa  contrada  all'  arte  offria 
Italia  e  bella  pur  nei  luoghi  ascosi. 

Ed  ivi  P  amico  lasci,  cui  il  desio 
Di  memoria  serbar  pei  virtuosi 

Gli  scalda  il  cor,  perche  desir  di  Dio. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  43 

^ .  "V 

Yet,  in  the  elegancies  of  society,  the  Mar- 
zani  are  far  behind  most  families  of  similar 
position  in  .the  Abruzzi  provinces,  however 
their  equals  in  every  kind  of  hospitality  and 
good-nature.  To-morrow  we  start  for  Staiti, 
San  Angelo  di  Bianco,  and  San  Luca,  on  the 
way  to  Santa  Maria  di  Polsi,  one  of  our  greatest 
objects  of  curiosity  in  Calabria  Ulteriore  I. 

August  3. — Hardly  could  we  persuade  the 
domestics  to  accept  of  three  carlini,  even  in 


A  friend  sends  me  the  following  translation  of  the  foregoing 
verses : — 

Genius  of  Albion,  hail !  what  joy  to  see 

The  landscapes  glowing  on  the  tinted  board, 
Fair  children  of  thy  thought,  so  wondrously 

Drawn  with  thy  magic  brush  from  nature's  hoard ! 
I  see  the  rocks,  the  frowning  citadel, 

As  line  by  line  the  well-known  shapes  unfold, — 
The  houses,  and  the  tall  tower  with  the  bell, 

And  there  a  peasant  wandering  down  the  wold. 
Ah !  if  these  glens,  and  vales,  and  shady  groves, 

Yield  to  the  pencil  matter  without  end, 
Among  the  scenes  where  artist  seldom  roves, 

How  fair  is  Italy  !     There,  0  my  friend, 
Thou  leav'st  me,  hoping,  as  a  good  man  should, 
To  live  within  the  memory  of  the  good. 


44  JOURNALS  OF 

remuneration  for  washing  our  linen.  As  we 
started  from  Bova  ere  the  earliest  sunbeams 
had  changed  Etna  from  a  blue  to  pale  rosy 
tint,  the  worthy  Don  A.  Marzano  bade  us  a 
hearty  adieu,  entreating  us  to  write  to  him 
from  whatever  part  of  the  world  we  might  be 
in,  generally,  and  from  Gerace  in  particular. 

Descending  the  narrow  street  of  steep  stairs, 
— for  whosoever  leaves  Bova  must  needs  so 
descend,  unless  he  be  a  bird, — we  passed  the 
public  prison,  and  lo  !  glaring  through  the  bars 
was  the  evil  countenance  of  the  woman  whom, 
in  the  tavern-hut  of  Condufori,  we  had  re- 
marked as  a  species  of  Medusa :  she  had  been 
sent  hither  last  night  for  having  murdered  one 
of  her  fellow  Turchi  or  Turche.  The  broad 
dark  shades  of  morning  filled  the  deep  valley 
below  the  mountain,  as  the  winding  pathway 
led  us  on  from  wood  to  wood  throughout  a 
delicious  vale,  at  the  lowest  end  of  which  a 
mill  and  stream,  with  a  few  cottages,  added  a 
charm  to  the  wild  scene ;  and  still  through  the 
thick  foliage  magnificent  peeps  of  overtowering 
Bova  were  seen  from  time  to  time.  And 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  45 

having  passed  the  fiumara  at  the  foot  of  the 
ridge  crowned  by  the  aerial  city,  we  began  to 
ascend  once  more  a  brown  cistus-covered  hill- 
side, with  giant  naked-armed  oaks  in  the  fore- 
ground, and  the  vast  blue  forest  -  clothed 
mountains  of  Aspromonte  closing  the  landscape 
on  all  but  the  southern  side.  As  the  time  for 
our  mid-day  halt  came  on,  and  the  heat  began 
to  be  rather  troublesome,  we  came  in  sight  of 
Palizzi,  a  most  singular  town,  built  round  an 
isolated  rock  commanding  one  of  the  many 
narrow  valleys  opening  to  the  sea.  Coming,  as 
we  did,  from  the  high  inland  ground,  we 
arrived  at  the  top  of  Palizzi,  the  castle  of  which 
is  alone  visible  from  the  north  side,  so  that  to 
reach  the  level  of  the  stream  and  lower  town, 
it  is  necessary  to  descend  a  perfect  ladder 
between  houses  and  pergolas,  clustered  in  true 
Calabrese  style  among  the  projecting  cactus- 
covered  ledges  of  the  parent  rock  from  which 
they  seemed  to  grow.  No  wilder,  nor  more 
extraordinary  place  than  Palizzi  can  well  greet 

artist  eye.    Leaving  P to  finish  a  drawing  I 

went  forward  to  seek  some  shelter  against  the 


46  JOURNALS  OF 

heat,  and,  reaching  the  castle,  soon  found  myself 
in  the  midst  of  its  ruined  area,  where,  though 
full  of  incidental  picturesqueness — namely,  a 
cottage,  a  pergola,  seven  large  pigs,  a  blind 
man,  and  a  baby,  I  could  get  no  information  as  to 
the  whereabouts  of  the  taverna ;  until  alarmed 
by  the  lively  remonstrances  of  the  pigs,  there 
appeared  a  beautifully  fair  girl  who  directed  me 
down  to  the  middle  of  the  town :  the  light  hair, 
and  Grecian  traits,  like  those  of  the  women  of 
Gaeta,  seemed  to  recall  the  daughters  of 
Magna  Graecia. 

The  streets  of  Palizzi,  through  which  no 
Englishman  perhaps  had  as  yet  descended, 
were  swarming  with  perfectly  naked,  berry- 
brown  children,  and  before  I  reached  the 
taverna  I  could  hardly  make  my  way  through 
the  gathering  crowd  of  astonished  mahogany 
Cupids.  The  taverna  was  but  a  single  dark 
room,  its  walls  hung  with  portraits  of  little 
saints,  and  its  furniture  a  very  filthy  bed 
with  a  crimson  velvet  gold-fringed  canopy, 
containing  an  unclothed  ophthalmic  baby,  an 
old  cat,  and  a  pointer  dog ;  all  the  rest  of 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  47 

the  chamber  being  loaded  with  rolls  of  linen, 
guns,  gourds,  pears,  hats,  glass  tumblers, 
puppies,  jugs,  sieves,  &c. ;  still  it  was  a 
better  resting-place  than  the  hut  at  Condufori, 
inasmuch  as  it  was  free  from  many  intruders. 

Until  P came,  and    joined   with   me    in 

despatching  a  feeble  dinner  of  eggs,  figs  and 
cucumber,  wine  and  snow,  I  sate  exhibited 
and  displayed  for  the  benefit  of  the  landlord, 
his  wife,  and  family,  who  regarded  me  with 
unmingled  amazement,  saying  perpetually,  "O 
donde  siete  ?"— «O  che  fai  ?"— "  O  chi  sei  ?"* 
And,  indeed,  the  passage  of  a  stranger  through 
these  outlandish  places  is  so  unusual  an 
occurrence,  that  on  no  principle  but  one  can 
the  aborigines  account  for  your  appearance. 
"  Have  you  no  rocks,  no  towns,  no  trees  in 
your  own  country  ?  Are  you  not  rich  ?  Then 
what  can  you  wish  here? — here,  in  this  place 
of  poverty  and  incommodo  ?  What  are  you 
doing  ?  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  You  might 
talk  for  ever ;  but  you  could  not  convince 


*  Oh  where  do  you  come  from  ? — Oh  what  are  you  going  to 
do  ? — Oh  who  can  you  be  ? 


48  JOURNALS  OF 

them  you  are  not  a  political  agent  sent  to 
spy  out  the  nakedness  of  the  land,  and  masking 
the  intentions  of  your  government  under  the 
thin  veil  of  pourtraying  scenes,  in  which  they 
see  no  novelty,  and  take  no  delight. 

Going  out  to  explore  the  lower  part  of  the 
town,  I  could  not  resist  making  a  sketch  of  its 
wonderful  aspect  from  below ;  the  square 
towering  rock  of  Palizzi  seems  to  fill  the  whole 
scene,  while  the  houses  are  piled  up  from  the 
stream  in  a  manner  defying  all  description. 
But  to  transfer  all  this  to  paper  was  neither 
easy  nor  agreeable ;  the  afternoon  sun  reflected 
from  the  crags  of  the  close  and  narrow  valley, 
making  it  like  an  oven,  besides  that  every 
available  bit  of  standing  ground  is  so  nearly 
covered  with  intractable  cactus-bushes  as  to  be 
utterly  vexatious ;  and,  add  to  their  alarming 
prickles,  and  the  frying  heat,  that  the  stream 
was  full  of  soaking  hemp,  the  poisonous  stench 
of  which  was  intolerable,  and  that  all  the 
juvenile  unclothed  population  of  the  town 
came  and  sate  over  against  me,  and  it  may  be 
perceived,  that  to  sketch  in  Palizzi,  though  it 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  49 

he   truly  a   wonder   in    its    way,   is   indeed   a 
pursuit  of  knowledge  under  great  difficulties. 

We  left  this  town  at  three  P.M.,  and  made 
for  Staiti,  where  we  were  to  sleep,  and,  keeping 
always  distant  some  miles  from  the  sea,  began 
to  ascend  the  hill  of  Pietrapennata.  From 
the  north  side,  Palizzi  appears  totally  different 
in  form,  and  is  one  of  those  Poussinesque 
scenes  so  exquisite  in  character,  and  so  peculiar 
to  Italy.  The  village  of  Pietrapennata  con- 
tains nothing  remarkable,  but  from  the  height 
immediately  above  it,  one  of  the  most  glorious 
landscapes  bursts  into  view.  What  detached 
and  strange  crags  !  what  overhanging  ilex  and 
oak !  what  middle-distance  of  densest  wood ! 
what  remote  and  graceful  lines,  with  the  blue 
expanse  of  the  eastern  sea,  and  the  long  plains 
of  the  eastern  side  of  Italy  !  The  setting  sun 
prevented  our  sketching,  but  we  resolved 
positively  to  return  to  this  most  exquisite 
scenery,  from  Staiti,  which  now  towered  above 
us  on  the  opposite  side  of  a  deep  dark  gully, 
filled  with  wondrous  groups  of  giant  ilex.  As 
we  slowly  toiled  up  to  this  most  strange 


50  JOURNALS  OF 

place,  wholly  Calabrese  in  aspect,  with  its 
houses  jammed  and  crushed  among  extra- 
ordinary crevices,  its  churches  growing  out  of 
solitary  rocks,  and  (what  forms  the  chief 
character  of  these  towns)  all  its  dwellings 
standing  singly — the  Zampognari*  were  playing, 
and  all  the  peasant  population  thronging  up- 
wards to  their  evening  rest.  Here,  too,  were 
the  first  symptoms  of  local  colour  in  costume, 
the  women  wearing  bright  blue  dresses  with 
broad  orange  borders,  and  all  we  saw  gave 
promise  of  real  unmixed  Calabrian  character- 
istics, unspoiled  by  high  roads  and  the  changes 
of  all-fusing  and  assimilating  civilisation. 

Don  Domenico  Musitani,  the  chief  man  of 
the  place,  to  whom  the  never-failing  care  of  the 
Consigliere  da  Nava  had  recommended  us,  was 
sitting  in  the  Piazza — an  obese  and  taciturn 
man,  who  read  the  introductory  letter,  and 
forthwith  took  us  to  his  house  ;  which,  among 
many  unpleasing  recollections,  will  certainly 
ever  rank  as  one  of  the  most  disagreeable. 


*  Peasants  who  play  on  the  Zampogne,  a  sort  of  bagpipes  used 
in  Southern  Italy. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  51 

Life  in  these  regions  of  natural  magnificence 
is  full  of  vivid  contrasts.  The  golden  abstract 
visions  of  the  hanging  woods  and  crags  of 
Pietrapennata  were  suddenly  opposed  to  the 
realities  of  Don  D.  Musitani's  rooms,  which 
were  so  full  of  silkworms  as  to  be  beyond 
measure  disgusting.  To  the  cultivation  of  this 
domestic  creature  all  Staiti  is  devoted ;  yellow 
cocoons  in  immense  heaps  are  piled  up  in  every 
possible  place,  and  the  atmosphere  may  be 
conceived  rather  than  described ;  for  there  is 
no  more  sickening  odour  than  that  of  many 
thousand  caterpillars  confined  in  the  closest  of 
chambers.  Almost  did  we  repent  of  ever 
having  come  into  these  Calabrian  lands  !  After 
the  usual  refreshment  of  snow  and  wine,  we 
waited  wearily  for  supper ;  at  times  replying  to 
the  interrogatories  of  our  host  on  the  subject 
of  the  productions  of  Inghilterra,  and  right 
glad  when  dismissed  to  what  rest  might  be 
found  in  couches  apparently  clean,  though 
odious  from  the  silkworms  all  around  them ; 
but  necessity  as  well  as  poverty  makes  the 
traveller  acquainted  with  strange  bed-fellows, 


E    2 


JOURNALS  OF 


CHAPTER  V. 

Explore  Stalti. — Feeding  among  the  silkworms — A  dinner  party. — Silkworm 
pie,  &c. — We  resolve  to  return  to  forests  of  Pietrapennata  to-morrow. — 
Sociable  peasantry. — Discomforts  of  Staiti. — -Return  to  the  forests. — 
Extreme  beauty  and  variety  of  the  environs  of  Pietrapennata. — The 
Archpriest  of  the  village,  and  his  hospitable  welcome. — Return  at  night 
to  Staiti. — Uncomfortable  evening. — Speculations  on  Sta  Maria  di  Polsi. 
— We  descend  to  the  sea-shore  again.  —  Reach  Motta  Bruzzano.  —  Culti- 
vated grounds. — Beautiful  bits  of  scenery. — Good  wine  at  Bruzzano. — 
The  silent  Ciccio  urges  us  to  proceed. — Good  qualities  of  our  guide. — 
Extreme  heat. — Ascent  of  the  hill  of  Ferruzzano,  and  descent  to  the  shore 
once  more. — Fatiguing  walk  to  the  Convent  of  Bianco. — Disappointment 
at  the  monastery. — Ascent  to  Carignano,  and  halt  there. — Further  ascent 
by  beautiful  woods  to  Sta  Agata  di  Bianco. — The  Baron's  house. — The 
usual  hospitable  welcome — with  the  addition  of  luxuries  and  refinements. 
— Difficulty  of  passing  the  evening  hours. — The  family  supper  party. 

August  4. — Long  before  daylight  a  troop  of 
pigeons  came  into  our  room  through  the  ill- 
shut  door,  and  after  them  followed  fowls,  then 
dogs ;  all  of  which  visitors  we  rejoiced  to  leave, 
and  were  soon  exploring  the  town.  Staiti  has 
its  full  share  of  Calabrian  mystery  in  its 
buildings,  caves,  and  rocks,  and  employed  our 
pencils  far  and  near  till  noon,  when  we  returned 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  53 

to  our  hosts  to  find  dinner  laid  out  in  one  of 
our  bedrooms,  all  among  the  silkworms  as 
before.  The  contrast  between'  the  condition 
of  this  house  of  discomforts,  and  the  cleanliness 
of  those  of  the  more  northern  provincials  in  the 
Neapolitan  kingdom,  is  very  striking.  Donna 
Angela  Musitani,  who  had  not  appeared  last 
night,  presided  at  the  table,  and  our  arrival 
seemed  the  occasion  of  a  sort  of  dinner-party 
in  our  honour;  for  there  was  the  Giudice  of 
the  town,  besides  a  Canonico  or  two.  The 
former,  a  well-bred  man,  when  speaking  of  his 
"  life  of  exile "  here,  said,  in  the  saddest  of 
tones,  "  0  Dio  !  Signori !  Era  Napoli  e  Staiti ! 
fra  il  Paradiso  elTnferno  !"  and,  indeed,  barring 
the  out-door  picturesqueness  of  the  place,  few 
more  uninviting  abodes  than  the  odoriferous 
Staiti  could  be  pointed  out.  Nor  did  the 
annoyances  of  a  tribe  of  spoiled  children  and 
barking  dogs  add  charms  to  the  family  dinner. 
But  the  "vermi  di  seta"  were  our  chief  horror; 
and  so  completely  did  silkworms  seem  the  life 
and  air,  end  and  material,  of  all  Staiti,  that  we 
felt  more  than  half  sure,  on  contemplating  three 


54  JOURNALS  OF 

or  four  suspicious-looking  dishes,  that  those 
interesting  lepidoptera  formed  a  great  part  of 
the  groundwork  of  our  banquet — silkworms 
plain  boiled,  stewed  chrysalis,  and  moth  tarts.* 
Glad  we  were  to  rush  out,  to  sit  and  draw 
among  the  rocks,  pondering  how  we  should 
once  more  revisit  Pietrapennata  on  the  morrow. 
Almost  all  the  peasants  had  some  greeting  for 
us  as  they  passed  homeward  after  sunset. 
Some  gave  us  pears,  which  seem  the  staple 
fruit  of  Southern  Calabria ;  -f  many  asked  us  if 
we  were  planning  and  writing  down  for  our 
governo  ;  and  one  woman  begged  me  to  ask  my 
king  to  ask  hers  to  let  her  have  salt  cheaper; 
while  another  set  forth  a  claim  to  her  house 


*  By  way  of  illustrating  this  our  melancholy  foreboding,  and  to 
show  that  such  things  have  been,  are,  and  may  be,  I  subjoin  the 
following  quotation  from  a  recently  published  work, — The  Ansayrii, 
Sfc.,  ly  the  Son.  F.  Wai/pole.  Bentley,  1851. 

"  A  sort  of  sherbet  is  made  here  [Diarbekr]  of  the  cocoon  of 
the  silkworm ;  it  is  considered  a  great  luxury,  and  is  exported 
for  a  beverage  for  the  rich  all  over  the  surrounding  country,  To 
me  it  appeared  very  nauseous,  tasting  exactly  as  the  cocoons  smell, 
&c."— Vol.  i.  page  366. 

t  " Of  which,"  suggests  a  friend  to  me,  "they  continue 

as  prodigal  to  strangers  and  pigs  as  in  the  days  of  Horace. 
(Ep.  i.  vii.  14.)" 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  55 

being  re-roofed,  on  account  of  her  grandfather 
having  been  killed  in  battle.  The  Archpriest 
of  Pietrapennata  also  accosted  us,  and,  finding 
how  desirous  we  were  of  revisiting  that  village 
and  its  forest  scenery,  good-naturedly  asked  us 
to  dine  at  his  house.  Lingering  as  late  as  we 
could,  we  took  refuge  with  the  Giudice,  Don 
Antonio  Morano,  for  an  hour,  whose  comfortable 
clean  room  (though  not  free  from  the  general 
taint  of  the  town's  vermicular  atmosphere) 
was  a  favourable  contrast  to  our  host's  home. 
Thither,  however,  we  at  length  retreated,  to 
endure  as  best  we  might  its  evils :  there  we 
endured  more  strange  food  ;  the  children 
screamed,  the  dogs  howled ;  and  the  fat  hostess 
amused  herself  by  catching  unwary  dragon-flies, 
and  holding  them  in  the  candle. 

August  5. — An  hour  before  daylight  we  left 
the  Palace  of  Cocoons  with  joy.  How  exquisite 
was  the  sweet  morning  light  and  air — the  deep 
ravine  full  of  elix,  the  mill,  and  the  ascent  to 
the  opposite  side,  where  those  surpassing 
woods  fringed  the  park-like  glades,  or  formed 


56  JOURNALS  OF 

magnificent  pictures  with  their  grey  trunks,  and 
arms  flung  out  over  rock  and  dell !  O  rare  woods 
of  Pietrapennata  !  I  do  not  remember  to  have 
seen  a  lovelier  spot  than  the  "  winged  rock  " — 
not  unaptly  named,  feathered  as  it  is  from  base 
to  summit.  None  of  your  dense  carpet-forests 
— your  monotonies  of  verdure,  but  made  up  of 
separate  combinations  of  pictorial  effect,  such 
as  one  can  hardly  fancy — Claude  and  Salvator 
Rosa  at  every  step  !  All  the  morning  we  drew 
in  this  beautiful  place,  and  little  enough  could 
our  utmost  efforts  make  of  what  would  occupy 
a  regiment  of  landscape-painters  for  years,  if 
every  one  of  them  had  as  many  arms  and  hands 
as  Vishnoo.  At  noon,  a  constant  breeze  plays 
among  these  umbrageous  groves,  making  even 
the  heat  of  the  day  pleasant,  and  we  moved 
reluctantly  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  whose  crown 
of  foliage  spread  away  in  unmeasured  lines  to 
the  north  ;  hence  the  forest  slopes  conduct 
your  eye  eastward  to  Brancaleone  and  other 
villages,  starry  bright  against  the  blue  waves. 
At  the  hamlet  of  Pietrapennata  we  found  our 
acquaintance  the  Archpriest,  Don  Domenico 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  57 

. 

Luciano,  waiting  for  us  in  his  rustic  dwelling, 
the  divine  himself  clad  in  an  undress  of  cordu- 
roys and  a  shooting-jacket,  the  like  of  which 
was  never  seen  in  the  grave  Roman  States. 
As  all  and  everybody  of  the  village  thronged 
to  see  us,  we  were  fain  to  allow  our  reverend 
host  to  shut  us  up  in  a  small  dark  room,  where 
our  homely  dinner  of  beans,  eggs,  and  salad 
was  soon  ready,  and  the  old  gentleman  not 
being  of  an  interrogative  turn,  his  simple  hospi- 
tality was  very  agreeable ;  and  although  his 
wine  was  very  abominable,  yet  we  had  had  the 
forethought  to  load  Ciccio  with  a  basketful  of 
snow,  four  rotoli  of  which,  wrapped  in  cloth, 
had  melted  but  little,  and  served  to  nullify  our 
host's  fluid. 

About  three  we  set  off  for  Silkworm  Hall, 
taking  new  paths  through  those  most  glorious 
scenes,  but  so  continually  distracted  by  fresh 
groups  of  wondrous  beauty  that  we  worked 
but  very  little,  and  arrived  late  (the  later  the 
better)  at  Staiti,  well  pleased  at  having  once 
more  seen  a  place  which  must  always  dwell  in 
my  memory  as  the  beau-ideal  of  Calabrian  park 


58  JOURNALS  OF 

or  forest  scenery.  Supper  and  silkworms  once 
again ;  screaming  children  and  howling  dogs ; 
the  fat  lady  shouted  and  scolded,  and  anathe- 
matised the  daddy-longlegs  who  flew  into  the 
candles ;  and  mine  host  was  savage  at  our 
having  visited  "  quel  prete  di  Pietrapennata." 
There  may,  however,  be  yet  many  Silkworm 
Halls  in  store  for  us ;  but,  go  where  we  may, 
we  shall  hardly  find  another  Pietrapennata  to 
compensate  for  their  evils.  What  will  Sta 
Maria  di  Polsi  be  like  ?  On  the  map  it  is  most 
inviting — black  and  deep  among  the  horrors  of 
Aspromonte.  The  variety  of  hope  in  such 
tours  as  these  lightens  the  annoyances  of  the 
present  hour. 

August  6.  —  Half-an-hour  before  sunrise  : 
addio  —  Don  Domenico  and  Donna  Angela 
Musitani !  —  Staiti  is  a  considerable  place, 
resembling  in  extent  Celano,  Magliano,  or 
Pescina,  in  Abruzzo  Ulteriore  II. ;  but  woe 
is  me  !  for  the  contrast  between  its  habitants 
and  the  Tabassi  or  Masciarelli !  Truth  compels 
me  to  say,  though  after  two  days'  hospitality  it 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  59 

might  be  wrong  so  to  feel,  that  P and  I 

grew  more  lighthearted,  step  by  step,  as  we  left 
our  late  host's,  and  followed  old  Dighi  Doghi 
Da  and  his  faultless  horse  down  the  steep  hill 
through  many  a  lane  towards  the  plain  below. 
The  plan  of  our  route  was  to  leave  the  hills  for 
a  space ;  nor  until  Motta  di  Bruzzano  *  was 
passed  were  we  to  turn  once  more  towards  the 
mountains  and  Sta  Maria  di  Polsi ;  so  we  came 
again  into  a  land  of  olives,  and  sandy  paths, 
and  irrigated  fields  of  Indian  corn,  with  the  sea 
on  one  side  and  blue  lessening  hills  westward. 
Here  and  there,  we  could  not  help  lingering 
to  sketch  some  line  of  Claude-like  simplicity. 
Farther  on,  we  glanced  at  Moticella,  a  village 
at  the  foot  of  the  hills,  but  waywardly  we  did 
not  think  it  worth  a  visit ;  and  thus,  by  degrees, 
having  passed  through  gardens  and  fields,  and 
by  cottages  surrounded  with  gourds,  we  arrived 
below  Bruzzano,  placed  as  if  arranged  by 
G.  Pussino  for  a  picture,  on  the  edge  of  a  great 
rock  rising  out  of  the  plain,  and  built  with  all 


*  Bruzzano  was  the  head  quarters  of  the  Saracens  in  1075, 
according  to  Marapoti. 


60  JOURNALS  OF 

that  beauty  of  simple  form,  and  that  inde- 
pendent irregularity,  so  identified  now  in  our 
minds  with  the  towns  of  Calabria.  Many 
charming  views  are  there  round  Bruzzano, 
looking  through  pergolas  to  the  sea  and  cape, 
with  glittering  Brancaleone  to  the  south,  and 
the  blue  woody  hills  towards  the  north.  After 
making  a  drawing,  we  lingered,  early  as  it  was, 
at  the  door  of  a  wineshop,  indulging,  over  a 
loaf  of  bread,  in  moderate  libations  of  the  best 
Calabrian  wine  we  had  yet  tasted.  Well  for 
us,  we  afterwards  found,  that  so  we  did.  But 
the  day  (it  was  a  burning  and  weary  scirocco) 
advanced,  and  quoth  Ciccio,  "  If  you  mean  to 
sleep  at  Sta  Agata,  so  as  to  arrive  at  Polsi  the 
following  evening,  you  must  go  on — d6go." 
In  all  the  chances  and  changes  of  our  tour, 
hitherto  old  Ciccio  had  ever  been  perfectly,  yet 
judiciously,  amiable.  If  we  wished  to  halt,  he 
said,  "  Dighi,  doghi,  si."  If  we  wished  to  go 
on,  he  said  the  same.  We  never  differed,  only 
the  communication  on  our  side  was  scanty ;  the 
"  Dogo  "  was  sufficient. 

So,  hot  as  it  was,  we  obeyed  orders,  and  began 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  61 

to  ascend  one  of  those  steep  Apennine  spurs 
running  down  from  the  high  Aspromonte  chain 
to  the  sea.  At  the  top  of  it,  where  there  was 
a  Bivio,*  one  road  leading  to  Feruzzano,  the 
other  to  the  plain  again,  we  had  to  decide 
summarily  where  our  night's  quarters  should 
be.  Feruzzano,  judging  from  what  one  saw 
hence,  was  uninteresting ;  and,  moreover,  we 
had  no  letter  to  any  of  its  people.  Sta  Agata, 
on  the  other  hand,  though  we  had  a  letter  to 
its  principal  proprietor,  the  Barone  Franco,  was 
a  great  deal  farther  off,  nor  as  yet  visible,  and 
the  day  was  of  the  uttermost  degree  of  scirocco 
heat,  without  a  breath  of  air.  So,  at  the  very 
top  of  the  narrow  ridge,  we  threw  ourselves 
down  under  the  only  shade  bestowed  us  by  a 
few  bushes  of  thick  lentisk,  and  finally  decided 
on  this  difficult  question  by  that  intellectual 
process  of  reasoning  generally  known  as  "tossing 
up."  Heads  ?  —  Tails  ?  Heads,  —  Sta  Agata. 
Down,  therefore,  we  went  into  a  new  scene- 
ridges  and  lines  beyond  lines  of  chalky-bright 


*  A  double  or  divided  road. 


62  JOURNALS  OF 

heights,  town-crowned  heights,  and  glaringly 
white  fiumaras,  a  great  tract  from  hill  to  sea 
of  glitter  and  arid  glare.  The  picking  and 
stealing  of  some  grapes  growing  near  the 
burning  sandy  road  seemed  a  light  matter  to 
our  parched  consciences  as  we  pursued  this 
hottest  of  walks  through  the  plain,  towards  the 
first  outworks  of  the  steeps,  high  on  which 
stood  the  convent  of  Bianco ;  the  houses  of 
the  town  of  that  name  being  dotted  along  a 
narrow  ridge  of  the  whitest  of  chalk — oh  how 
white !  how  ultra  chalky !  We  became  very 
cross  as  we  crept  on  in  the  scorching  sun,  and 
passed  along  the  stony  fiumara ; — 

"  The  river-bed  was  dusty  white, 
And  all  the  furnace  of  the  light 
Struck  up  against  our  dazzled  eyes." 

The  Fiume  Verde,  a  river  in  winter,  was  now 
reduced  to  a  sham  of  a  stream,  containing  as 
many  tadpoles  as  drops  of  water,  and  barely 
admitting  the  least  face-washing  refreshment  ; 
while  the  little  shade,  real  or  supposed,  to  be 
gained  in  the  olive-grounds  scattered  around 
was  barred  from  us  by  thick  lentisk  hedges. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  63 

It  was  as  much  as  either  of  us  could  do,  aided 
by  some  water-melons,  to  reach  that  longed-for 
spot  the  convent  of  Bianco,  beyond  which  we 
looked  earnestly  to  ever-rising  grounds  with 
fresh  woods  and  bluer  mountains  beyond, 
speaking  of  air  and  endurable  existence  once 
more. 

At  last,  behold  us  at  the  monastery  door. 
O  fallacious  hopes  !  All  the  monks  were  fast 
asleep,  so  we  could  only  penetrate  into  a  court- 
yard, where,  indeed,  was  a  well  of  clear  water, 
and  an  iron  bucket  chained  thereto,  which 

neither  P nor  I   shall  ever  forget.     Let 

any  philosopher  or  stoic  walk  from  sunrise  till 
past  noon  in  a  Calabrian  August  on  the  shade- 
less  low  grounds  by  the  sea,  and  such  a  well 
with  such  a  bucket  he  will  remember  through 
life !  When  the  monks  arose,  we,  who  had 
taken  no  provision  of  food  with  us,  were  aghast 
at  the  two  small  bits  of  crust  which  they  apolo- 
gisingly  offered  us,  the  Superiore  declaring 
that  they  were  out  of  provisions  ;  so  off  we  set 
again.  "  Coraggio,  dighi,  doghi,  da,"  said 
Ciccio ;  and  we  climbed  on  through  vineyards 


64  JOURNALS  OF 

and  hanging  woods  for  another  hour  to  a  village, 
we  fondly  hoping  it  would  be  Sta  Agata  ; — not 
at  all — it  was  Casignano,  Sta  Agata  being  yet 
half-an-hour  beyond ! 

From  this  place,  where  we  indulged  in  a 
rest,  and  more  snow  and  wine,  all  the  rest  of 
the  afternoon's  march  was  delightful.  Smooth 
walks  led  us  through  rich  chestnut  woods 
(such  as  abound  in  that  most  beautiful  place 
Civitella  di  Subiaco),  or  along  narrow  high- 
banked  lanes  of  red  earth,  with  feathery  oak 
over  head,  and  the  eastern  sea  shining  through 
the  branches  over  the  woodland  tracts  we  had 
last  left,  and  the  chalk-white  fiumaras  and 
golden  sandy  plain  far  below.  At  length  our 
night-halt,  the  little  village  of  Sta  Agata  was 
reached ;  a  humble  place,  half  of  which  seemed 
merged  in  the  Baron's  huge  old  dirty  Pous- 
sinesque  Palazzo.  And,  as  we  arrived  at  the 
house,  the  whole  baronial  atmosphere  seemed 
one  of  slovenly  and  lethargic  melancholy ; 
though  there  was  no  want  of  hospitable  recep- 
tion. The  drawing-room  was  very  untidy,  and 
there  were  four  very  unwashed  poets'  heads  at 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  65 

the  four  angles.  The  Baron's  brothers  and 
sons  were  dirty  and  sad ;  and  the  priest 
was  sad  and  dirty ;  the  doctor  (a  profes- 
sional man  of  Gerace,  the  Capo  Distretto) 
seemed  the  only  lively  person,  and  apologised 
for  the  Baron's  absence ;  the  Baroness  being 
ill.  But  the  will  to  welcome,  which  we  have 
not  yet  found  wanting  in  Calabria  (save  in 
Condufori),  was  perfectly  manifested  in  an 
unexpected  display  of  maccaroni,  eggs,  olives, 
butter,  cheese,  and  undeniable  wine  and  snow, 
on  a  table  covered  with  the  whitest  of  linen, 
and  sparkling  with  plate  and  glass,  arrangements 
at  variance  with  the  outward  appearance  of  the 
mansion.  After  this  refreshment,  and  a  half- 
hour's  sketching,  evening  set  in,  when  cards 
prevailed  (an  amusement  my  ignorance  of  which 
I  have  often  lamented  in  these  regions),  and 

P and  I  vainly  tried  to  look  polite  and 

sleepless  till  supper  was  announced  at  eleven  ; 
a  dreary  meal,  the  whole  family  and  party, 
twenty  in  number,  sitting  round  a  plentifully 
loaded  table  in  speechless  solemnity. 


66  JOURNALS  OF 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Descent  from  Sta  Agata.  —  Glorious  scenery :  refreshing  woods. — We  turn 
towards  the  Aspromonte  mountains. — First  sight  of  San  Luca,  where  a 
guide  for  the  monastery  of  Polsi  is  to  be  procured. — Descent  to  a 
fiumara,  and  long  walk  in  it. — Oleanders. — San  Luca. — Welcome  at  the 
house  of  Don  Domenico  Stranges. — Hearty  and  jovial  family  of  brothers. 
— Immense  amount  of  questions  concerning  the  produce  of  England. 
— Invitations  to  remain  at  San  Luca. — Late  start  for  the  monastery  with 
a  guide,  besides  Ciccio. — Ascent  of  the  stream :  grand  mountain  scenery. 
— Heights  of  Aspromonte.  —  Magnificent  oleander-trees.  —  Impressive 
solitudes. — Necessity  of  haste — the  day  wears. — Climb  among  oak  woods. 
— Ascent  to  the  Serra. — Ciccio's  forebodings. — Darkness  overtakes  us. — 
Light  of  the  Monastery  far  below. — Descent  to  its  gates. — Pleasant  recep- 
tion by  the  Superior. — Wonder  of  the  monks. — The  Superior's  lecture 
upon  England  and  the  English.  —  The  Thames  Tunnel  poetically  con- 
sidered.— Conventual  accommodations  of  Sta  Maria  di  Polsi. — Storm  and 
wind. 

August  7. — We  left  the  Baron's  house  before 
sunrise,  with  many  apologies  from  the  family 
that  no  one  was  up  and  on  foot  to  attend  to 
our  departure,  the  increasing  illness  of  the  lady 
of  the  house  explaining  the  gloom  of  last  night, 
as  well  as  the  invisibility  of  the  household  this 
morning.  Truly  delightful  was  the  walk  through 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  67 

the  shady  chesnut-groves  —  ahi !  —  those  early 
hours  in  Italy !  Again  we  passed  Casignano, 
but,  instead  of  descending  towards  Bianco,  we 
held  on  an  inland  route,  facing  the  high 
Aspromonte  range  of  mountains,  in  hopes  to 
reach  the  sanctuary  of  Sta  Maria  di  Polsi  by 
night.  San  Luca — where  we  were  to  procure 
a  guide  to  the  convent,— was  in  view,  though  we 
had  to  walk  for  some  hours  up  one  of  those 
eternal  white  fiumara-courses,  full  of  oleander- 
clumps,  before  we  arrived  at  it.  We  reached 
the  village  at  ten.  It  stands  at  the  termination 
of  one  of  the  northernmost  ridges,  forming  the 
valley  of  the  great  torrent  known  ere  it  joins 
the  sea  as  Fiume  Buonamico.  Don  Domenico 
Stranges,  the  chief  proprietor,  was  away  at  the 
Marina  (for  there  is  generally  on  the  track 
along  the  coast  some  cluster  of  houses,  or  a 
hamlet  representing  the  community  whose 
chief  home  is  in  the  hills),  but  no  timid 
inhabitant  of  the  Casa  Stranges  forbade  our 
entrance  as  at  Condufdri :  here  a  most  grace- 
ful and  handsome  barefooted  girl,  a  local 
Hebe,  brought  us  snow  and  wine,  bidding 


F    2 


68  JOURNALS  OF 

us    wait    and  be    welcome    till    her    masters 
came. 

In  Calabria,  as  in  other  parts  of  the  Neapo- 
litan kingdom  (see  "  Excursions  in  Italy"),  the 
family  often  continue  to  dwell  together  till 
each  of  its  members  marry.  One  of  the 
Brothers  Stranges  soon  arrived,  and  a  most 
thoroughly  hearty  good  fellow  he  was.  "  You 
must  take  what  you  can  find,"  said  he  ;  "  there 
is  no  time  to  get  anything:  si  signore,  non  vi 
sono  qui  mercati — qui  non  siamo  in  Napoli ; "  * 
but  there  were  heaps  of  maccaroni,  and  cocuzzi-f- 
and  pomi-d'oro,  and  a  roast  hare,  and  that  is  not 
matter  for  complaint  in  the  heart  of  Calabria. 
Don  Giacomo  asked,  as  usual:  "In  che  cosa 
abbonda  Tlnghilterra  ? "  J  and  we  replied,  al 


*  There  are  no  markets  here  ;  this  is  not  Naples, 
t  Vegetable  marrows  and  tomatas. 
J  In  what  does  England  abound  ? 

In  cows,  oxen,  horses,  corn,  &c. 

Have  you  any  rice  ? 

No ;  we  import  it. 

O  heavens !     Do  you  make  any  wine  ? 

No. 

O  mercy  !     Then  of  course  you  have  no  fruit  ? 

But  indeed  we  have. 

O  that  is  not  possible. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  69 

solito,    "  Vi   sono   belle   vacche,    bovi,    cavalli, 
grano,"  &c.,  &c. 

"V'edelriso?" 

"  Non,  signore ;  si  fa  venire  di  fuori." 

"  O  cielo  !  Dunque — si  fa  del  vino  ?  " 

"Non,  signore." 

"  O  misericordia  !  Frutti  allora  di  certo  non 
vi  sono  ?  " 

"  Ma  si." 

"  0 !  possibile  non  e,"  and  a  polite  grin  of 
incredulity  closed  the  category. 

The  worthy  man  pressed  us  much  to  stay,  to 
see  all  the  hills.  "  Since  you  are  come  to  this 
out-of-the-way  place,  what  difference  can  a  week 
or  two  make  ?  Stay,  and  hunt — stay,  and  make 
this  your  home  !  " 

"  Alas,  good  Don  Giacomo !  so  we  would 
gladly,  but  life  is  short,  and  we  are  trying  hard 
to  see  all  Calabria  in  three  months." 

So  we  slept :  but  instead  of  waking  at  nine- 
teen (five)  o'clock,  it  was  half-past  twenty  * 
before  we  were  in  order  to  start — leaving  only 


*  Iii  Southern  Italy  the  whole  number  of  hours  contained  in 
the  day  is  always  spoken  of. 


70  JOURNALS  OF 

three  hours  and  a  half  for  a  journey  which  our 
Calabrian  friends  described  as  "  sommamente 
feroce/'  * 

So  we  left  San  Luca,  our  good-natured  host 
giving  us  a  huge  water-melon  to  help  us  on  our 
road,  and  the  handsome  girl  firmly  refusing  to 
accept  any  "compliment"  or  "remuneration" 
of  coin,  great  or  little. 

For  three  miles  up  a  torrent  bed  was  our 
path  at  setting  out,  our  guide  (for  Ciccio  did 
not  assume  knowledge  of  the  intricate  ways  of 
Polsi),  clad  in  the  costume  of  brown  cloth  worn 
by  the  peasants  hereabout,  going  on  in  advance. 
As  we  proceeded  up  the  stream,  the  rocks 
began  to  close  in  nearer  and  nearer,  till  above 
the  high-cliffed  gorge,  the  towering  forms  of 
Aspromonte  seemed  to  shut  out  the  sky — the 
long  furrows  in  the  mountain-sides  clothed  with 
the  densest  wood.  Now  our  route  lay  on  this, 
now  on  that  side  of  the  torrent,  sometimes  at 
the  level  of  the  river,  among  blooming  oleander- 
trees,  of  the  largest  size  I  ever  saw  (not  except- 
ing even  those  at  Sortino,  in  Sicily);  sometimes 


*  Utterly  terrible. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  71 

I 

at  a  great  height,  among  the  trunks  of  luxuriant 
ilex-trees,  overhanging  the  rocks.  The  senti- 
ment of  these  scenes  and  solitudes — the  deep, 
deep  solitudes  of  those  mountains !  are  such  as 
neither  pen  nor  pencil  can  describe ! 

We  were  obliged  to  walk  as  fast  as  possible, 
that  we  might  arrive  at  Polsi  by  daylight, 
and  as  we  ascended,  the  labour  was  not  a  little 
severe.  It  was  twenty-two  o'clock  when  we 
reached  a  fountain  very  high  up  in  the  moun- 
tain, yet  the  brown-garbed  guide  said  three 
hours  were  still  requisite  to  bring  us  to  our 
night's  lodging.  Clear  streams,  trickling  down 
at  every  step  to  the  great  torrent,  refreshed  us, 
and  soon  we  left  the  valley,  and  began  to  climb 
among  oak  woods,  till  the  deep  chasm,  now 
dark  in  the  fading  daylight,  was  far  below  our 
feet. 

A  circuitous  toil  to  the  head  of  a  second 
large  torrent,  skirting  a  ravine  filled  with 
magnificent  ilex,  brought  us  to  the  last  tre- 
mendous ladder-path,  that  led  to  the  "  serra," 
or  highest  point  of  the  route,  wherefrom  we 
were  told  we  should  perceive  the  monastery. 


72  JOURNALS  OF 

Slowly  old  Ciccio  and  his  horse  followed  us, 
and  darker  grew  the  hour.  "  Arriveremo 
tardi,"  quoth  he,  "se  non  moriamo  prima — 
dighi,  doghi,  da  !  "  *  But  alas !  when  wre  did 
get  at  the  promised  height,  where  a  cross  is 
set  up,  and  where,  at  the  great  festas  of  the 
convent,  the  pilgrims  fire  off  guns  on  the  first 
and  last  view  of  this  celebrated  Calabrian 
sanctuary — alas !  it  was  quite  dark,  and  only  a 
twinkling  light  far  and  deep  down,  in  the  very 
bowels  of  the  mountain,  showed  us  our  desti- 
nation. Slow  and  hazardous  was  the  descent, 
and  it  was  nine  o'clock  ere  we  arrived  before 
the  gate  of  this  remote  and  singular  retreat. 
It  was  a  long  while  before  we  gained  admit- 
tance ;  and  the  Superiore,  a  most  affable  old 
man,  having  read  our  letter,  offered  us  all  the 
accommodation  in  his  power,  which,  as  he  said, 
we  must  needs  see  was  small.  Wonder  and 
curiosity  overwhelmed  the  ancient  man  and 
his  brethren,  who  were  few  in  number,  and 
clad  in  black  serge  dresses.  "  Why  had  we 


*  We  shall  arrive  late,  if  we  do  not  die  before  we  get  there. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  73 

come  to  such  a  solitary  place  ?  No  foreigner 
had  ever  done  so  before  ! "  The  hospitable 
father  asked  a  world  of  questions,  and  made 
many  comments  upon  us  and  upon  England  in 
general,  for  the  benefit  of  his  fellow-recluses. 
"  England,"  said  he,  "  is  a  very  small  place, 
although  thickly  inhabited.  It  is  altogether 
about  the  third  part  of  the  size  of  the  city 
of  Rome.  The  people  are  a  sort  of  Christians, 
though  not  exactly  so.  Their  priests,  and  even 
their  bishops,  marry,  which  is  incomprehensible, 
and  most  ridiculous.  The  whole  place  is 
divided  into  two  equal  parts  by  an  arm  of 
the  sea,  under  which  there  is  a  great  tunnel, 
so  that  it  is  all  like  one  piece  of  dry  land.  Ah 
—  che  celebre  tunnel!"  A  supper  of  hard 
eggs,  salad,  and  fruit  followed  in  the  refectory 
of  the  convent,  and  we  were  attended  by  two 
monstrous  watch-dogs,  named  Assassino  and 
Saracen o,  throughout  the  rest  of  the  evening, 
when  the  silence  of  the  long  hall,  broken  only 
by  the  whispers  of  the  gliding  monk,  was  very 
striking.  Our  bed-rooms  were  two  cells,  very 
high  up  in  the  tower  of  the  convent,  with 


74  JOURNALS  OF 

shutters  to  the  unglazed  windows,  as  a  pro- 
tection against  the  cold  and  wind,  which  were 
by  no  means  pleasant  at  this  great  elevation. 
Very  forlorn,  indeed,  were  the  sleeping  apart- 
ments of  Sta  Maria  di  Polsi,  and  fearful  was 
the  howling  of  the  wind  and  the  roaring  of  a 
thunder-storm  throughout  the  night! — but  it 
was  solemn  and  suggestive,  and  the  very 
antithesis  of  life  in  our  own  civilised  and 
distant  home. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  75 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Mountain  mist. — Description  of  the  scenery  round  the  monastery. — Simple 
peasantry  of  these  mountains. — Lionising  the  church  and  convent. — The 
Superior  and  his  conversation. —We  decide  on  starting  for  Gerace  to 
morrow. — Legendary  foundation  of  the  Convent  of  Sta  Maria  di  Polsi. — 
Praises  of  our  guide  Ciccio. — Ascent  to  the  Serra,  and  descent  to  the 
valley  and  fiumara  of  San  Luca. — The  brothers  Stranges  again. — More 
hospitality  and  questions. — We  set  off  for  Bovalino. — Tiresome  journey 
by  the  fiumara  to  the  sea-shore. — Hot  sandy  paths. — Olive  grounds. — 
Ascent  to  Bovalino. — The  Count  Garrolo — his  hospitality  and  volubility. 
— Supper  and  the  subdued  Contessa. 

August  8. — A  little  rain  falls,  and  great 
volumes  of  mist  are  rolling  up  the  sides  of  the 
gigantic  well  in  which  the  convent  seems  to  be 
placed ;  but  after  caffe  with  the  Padre  Superiore, 
who  was  again  diffuse  on  the  subject  of  a 

married  priesthood,  P and  I  went  out  to 

explore,  in  the  teeth  of  the  stormy  elements. 

Assuredly,  Sta  Maria  di  Polsi  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  scenes  I  ever  beheld ;  the 
building  is  picturesque,  but  of  no  great  anti- 
quity, and  with  no  pretensions  to  architectural 


76  JOURNALS   OF 

taste ;  it  stands  on  a  rising  ground  above  the 
great  torrent,  which  comes  down  from  the  very 
summit  of  Aspromonte,  the  highest  point  of 
which — Montalto — is  the  "  roof  and  crown  "  of 
the  picture.  From  the  level  of  the  monastery 
to  this  height  rises  a  series  of  screens,  covered 
with  the  grandest  foliage,  with  green  glades, 
and  massive  clumps  of  chesnut  low  down- 
black  ilex  and  brown  oak  next  in  succession, 
and,  highest  of  all,  pines.  The  perpendicular 
character  of  the  scene  is  singularly  striking,  the 
wooded  rocks  right  and  left  closing  it  in  like  the 
side  slips  of  a  theatre  ;  and  as  no  other  building 
is  within  sight,  the  romance  and  loneliness  of 
the  spot  are  complete,  Neither  is  there  any 
other,  even  the  remotest,  glimpse  of  contrasted 
landscape,  as  is  often  the  case  with  secluded 
monasteries  in  Italy,  which,  from  their  high 
and  solitary  place,  overlook  a  distant  plain,  or 
the  sea.  Here  all  around,  above  and  below,  is 
close  wood  and  mountain — no  outlet,  no  variety 
—stern  solitude  and  the  hermit  sentiment 
reign  supreme. 

The   monks   are  frequently   snowed  up  for 


Printed  ly  EnlmaiiLeL  4-  Walton . 


.r;TA   MARIA  DJ   POL  SI. 

Kirhanf  l!ftntj»rv  .'N'-w  BiiTlin^ton.  Street..  Augost  1852. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  77 

many  of  the  winter  months,  and  must  lead  at 
all  periods  a  life  of  the  strictest  seclusion  ;  for, 
except  on  a  day  early  in  September,  when  half 
South  Calabria  comes  to  the  annual  festa,  no 
living  soul  but  the  few  dependents  of  the 
monastery  visit  it.  Some  of  these — woodmen 
and  labourers — passed  us  as  we  sate  on  peaks 
of  rock  above  the  downward  path,  wrapped  in 
our  plaids,  and  hardly  able  to  hold  our  books 
for  the  violence  of  the  wind ;  and  they  gazed 
with  breathless  amazement  at  the  novel  sight — 
a  simple,  hardy  race  of  people,  with  none  of 
that  ferocity  of  countenance  which  English 
Lavaters  attach  by  habitual  tradition  to  Cala- 
brese  physiognomy. 

The  noontide  hours  were  employed  in 
sketching  in  the  cloisters,  and  in  examining 
the  relics  and  treasures  of  the  church  under 
the  auspices  of  the  Padre  Superiore.  The 
subjects  which  weigh  most  heavily  on  his  mind 
are  "  Quel  tunnel,"  *  and  "  Quei  Preti  mari- 
tati !  Vescovi  sposati !  o  cielo !  Una  moglie  di 


*  The   tunnel,  and  those  married  priests !      Married   bishops 
— O  heaven !     Wife  of  an  archbishop  ! — O  what  amazement ! 


78  JOURNALS   OF 

arcivescovo  ;  O  che  stravaganza  ! "  The  after- 
noon we  passed  in  strolling  about  the  fine 
scenes  around  this  hermit-home ;  but,  though 
containing  endless  material  for  foreground 
study,  its  general  picturesque  character  is 
limited,  and  we  decide  on  leaving  Sta  Maria 
di  Polsi  to-morrow.  We  must  retrace  our 
steps  as  far  as  San  Luca,  and  then  make  for 
Gerace,  sleeping  either  at  Bovalino  or  Ardore, 
as  time  may  allow. 

August  9. — The  worthy  Superior  presented 
us  with  a  medal  and  a  print  of  the  Madonna 
di  Polsi,  the  original  picture  having  been  dis- 
covered by  a  devout  ox,  who  inveigled  one  of 
the  early  Norman  Conquerors  of  Sicily  all  the 
way  from  Reggio  to  this  place,  for  the  particular 
purpose  of  inducing  him  to  build  a  monastery. 
The  excellent  ox,  said  the  monk,  led  on  the 
prince  from  hill  to  hill  till  he  reached  the 
proper  spot,  when,  kneeling  down,  he  with  his 
pious  horns  poked  up  the  portrait  of  the  Virgin 
Mary,  which  was  miraculously  waiting  some 
inches  below  the  ground  for  its  bovine  liberator. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  79 

A  print  recording  this  circumstance  was  also 
given  to  Ciccio,  who  wrapped  it  up  carefully 
with  signs  of  devotion  :  we  have  never  yet  had 
a  fault  to  find  with  this  valuable  fellow — he 
was,  as  King  Charles  the  Second  is  said  to  have 
said  of  somebody,  "never  in,  nor  ever  out  of, 
the  way." 

Having  reached  the  height  of  the  cross  we 
turned  to  bid  a  last  addio  to  Sta  Maria  di 
Polsi,  and  thenceforth  we  enjoyed  the  magnifi- 
cent landscape  of  distant  hills  now  visible 
throughout  this  high  part  of  the  gorge  ;  we 
descended  to  the  depths  of  the  torrent  bed, 
and  its  gay  oleander-trees  by  the  ferny  glens 
and  ilex  ravines,  which  we  had  threaded  on 
our  way  up  to  the  monastery  on  the  afternoon 
of  the  7th ;  and  so  we  again  reached  the 
widening  valley  and  its  painful  fiumara  course 
of  white  stones  below  San  Luca.  Contrary  to 
our  first  intention,  which  had  been  to  push  on 
for  Bovalino — we  returned  into  the  little  town, 
for  our  horse  had  lost  a  shoe,  and  the  fierce 
heat  demanded  an  hour  or  two  of  rest. 

The   party   at   the   friendly   Don   Giacorno 


80  JOURNALS  OF 

Stranges  was  increased  by  his  brothers  D.D. 
Domenico  and  Stefano,  who  were  all  delighted 
to  ask  questions  about  the  '  abbondanza  d'  In- 
ghilterra/  while  they  offered  us  snow  and 
wine,  and  a  clean  cloth  being  spread,  maccaroni, 
eggs,  ricotta,*  honey,  and  pears,  soon  exhibited 
proofs  of  their  ready  hospitality. 

It  was  two  o'clock  before  the  horse-shoe  was 
adjusted,  and  we  started  once  more  from  San 
Luca  and  its  kind  homely  set  of  inhabitants, 
who  to  the  last  insisted  on  giving  us  letters  to 
Stignano,  Stilo,  Eocella,  and  other  places  at 
which  we  might  chance  to  halt. 

Our  route  was  a  weary  one,  as  it  was  ever 
descending  straight  to  the  sea  in  the  midst  of 
the  stony  oleander-dotted  water-course  —  hot 
and  tedious ;  near  the  coast  we  came  to  sandy 
roads  for  two  hours,  with  our  old  friends  cactus 
and  aloe  bordering  cultivated  grounds  to  the 
water's  edge,  from  which  our  halt  was  hardly  a 
mile  distant.  Ciccio  also  growled  now  and 
then,  having  lost  one  of  his  own  shoes,  and 


*  Eicotta  is  a  preparation  of  milk,   usually  sheep's   milk,  in 
very  general  use  throughout  Southern  Italy. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  81 

being  obliged  to  ride :  he  did  not  like  to  over- 
work his  horse — he  was  a  good  fellow  that  old 
Dighi  D6ghi  Da. 

It  was  late  when  we  arrived  below  Bovalino, 
sparkling  on  its  chalky  height  in  the  last  sun- 
beams, and  as  we  found  that  to  go  on  to  Ardore 
would  have  been  too  far  and  fatiguing,  we 
turned  through  olive  grounds  from  the  sea,  and 
began  the  long  ascent  to  the  town,  which  we 
reached  at  dusk.  Bovalino  is  a  place  of  con- 
siderable size,  and  we  were  charmed  by  its 
strongly  defined  Calabrese  character,  as  we 
ascended  the  winding  pathways  full  of  home- 
ward-bound peasants,  the  costume  of  the  women 
being  prettier  here  than  any  we  had  yet  seen. 

We  went  at  once  with  an  introductory  letter 
to  Count  Garrolo,  one  of  the  chief  proprietors 
of  the  place,  and  fortunately  found  him  just 
returned  from  the  country :  the  small  rooms  of 
his  house  betokened  the  literary  man,  heaps  of 
books,  maps,  globes  and  papers,  filling  up  all 
corners,  and  great  wealth  of  very  old-fashioned 
furniture,  leaving  small  space  for  sitting  or 
standing.  The  Conte  himself  was  a  most 


82  JOURNALS  OF 

good-natured  and  fussy  little  man,  excessively 
consequential  and  self-satisfied,  but  kind  withal, 
and  talking  and  bustling  in  the  most  breathless 
haste,  quoting  Greek  and  Latin,  hinting  at 
antiquities  and  all  kinds  of  dim  lore  and 
obscure  science,  rushing  about,  ordering  his 
two  domestics  to  and  fro,  explaining,  apolo- 
gising, and  welcoming,  without  the  least 
cessation.  He  had  come  from  a  villa,  a  villetta, 
a  vigna— an  old  property  of  his  family — Giovanni 
Garrolo,  Gasparo  Garrolo,  Luca  Garrolo,  Stefano 
Garrolo, — he  had  come  just  now,  this  very 
minute  :  he  had  come  on  a  mule,  on  two  mules, 
with  the  Contessa,  the  amiable  Contessa,  he  had 
come  slowly — pian,  pian,  piano,  piano,  piano — for 
the  Contessa  expected  to  be  confined  shortly — 
perhaps  to-day — he  hoped  not ;  he  would  like 
us  to  be  acquainted  with  her ;  her  name  was 
Serafina ;  she  was  intellectual  and  charming ; 
the  mules  had  never  stumbled ;  he  had  put 
on  the  crimson- velvet  housings,  a  gilt  coronet 
embossed,  Garrolo,  Garrolo,  Garrolo,  Garrolo,  in 
all  four  corners ;  he  had  read  the  Contessa  an 
ode  to  ancient  Locris  all  along  the  road,  it 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  83 

amused  her,  a  Latin  ode;  the  Contessa  enjoyed 
Latin  ;  the  Contessa  had  had  six  children,  all  in 
Paradise,  great  loss,  but  all  for  the  best ;  would 
we  have  some  snow  and  wine?  Bring  some 
snow,  bring  some  wine. — He  would  read  us  a 
page,  two  pages,  three — Locri  Opuntii,  Locri 
Epizephyrii,  Normans,  Saracens — Indian  figs 
and  Indian  corn — Julius  Caesar  and  the  Druids, 
Dante,  Shakespeare — silkworms  and  mulberries 
—rents  and  taxes,  antediluvians,  American 
republics,  astronomy  and  shell-fish, — like  the 
rushing  of  a  torrent  was  the  volubility  of  the 
Conte  Garrolo — yet  one  failed  to  receive  any 
distinct  impression  from  what  he  said,  so  uncon- 
nected and  rapid  was  the  jumbling  together  of 
his  subjects  of  eloquence.  Nevertheless,  his 
liveliness  diverted  us  to  the  utmost,  the  more 
from  its  contrast  to  the  lethargic  and  mono- 
tonous conversation  of  most  of  our  former 
hosts  ;  and  we  wondered  if  the  Contessa  would 
talk  a  tenth  part  as  much,  or  as  loudly.  Supper 
was  ready  sooner  than  in  most  of  these  houses, 
and  when  it  was  served,  in  came  the  Contessa, 
who  was  presented  to  us  by  her  husband  with 


G   2 


84  JOURNALS  OF 

a  crash  of  compliments  and  apologies  for  her 
appearance,  which  put  our  good  breeding  to 
the  severest  test ;  in  all  my  life  I  never  so 
heartily  longed  to  burst  into  merriment,  for  the 
poor  lady,  either  from  ill-health  or  long  habitual 
deference  to  her  loquacious  spouse,  said  nothing 
in  the  world  but  "  Nirr  si,'*  or  "  Nirr  no,"  * 
which  smallest  efforts  of  intellectual  discourse 
she  continued  to  insert  between  the  Count's 
sentences  in  the  meekest  way,  like  Pity, 
between  the  drummings  of  despair  in  Collins' 
Ode  to  the  Passions. 

"  Scusatela,  scusatela,"  thundered  the  voluble 
Conte,  "  scusatela — cena,  cena,  a  cena — tavola 
pronta,  tavola  pronta  " 

"  Nirr  si." 

"  Subito,  subito,  subito,  subito." 

"  Nirr  si,  nirr  no" 

"  Sedete  vi,  sedete  vi — (sorella  sua  morta 
quattro  mesi  fa)." 

"  Nirr  si." 


Nirr  si,  nirr  no, — the  common  way  of  assent  or  negation 
in  the  kingdom  of  Naples ;  meaning  the  last  syllable  of  Signer 
si,  or  Signer  no,  or  etymologice, — 'gnor  si,  'gnor  no. 

I 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  85 

"  Mangiate  !  mangiate  !  " 
"  Nirr  no." 

"  Maccaroni  ?  polio  ?  (madre  morte,   piange 
troppo,)  alicetti  si,  zuppa  si,  ove  si." 
u  ]$irr  no." 

"  Signori  forestiere  prendete  vino.  Contessa 
statevi  allegra." 

"  Nirr  si."  * 

It  was  a  most  trying  and  never-ending 
monologue,  barring  the  choral  nirr  si  and  no, 
and  how  it  was  we  did  not  go  off  improperly 
into  shrieks  of  laughter  I  cannot  tell,  unless 
that  the  day's  fatigue  had  made  our  spirits 
tractable.  Instantly  after  supper  the  Contessa 
vanished,  and  the  Conte  bustled  about  like 
an  armadillo  in  a  cage,  showing  us  our  room, 
and  bringing  in  a  vast  silver  basin  and  jug, 
towels,  &c.,  with  the  most  surprising  alacrity, 


*  Excuse  her,  excuse  her,  supper,  supper  supper,  the  table  is 
ready ;  the  table  is  ready. — Nirr  si. — Quick,  quick,  quick,  quick. 
Nirr  si,  nirr  no. — Sit  down,  sit  down : —  (her  sister  died  four 
months  ago). — Nirr  si. — Eat,  eat.  Nirr  no. — Maccaroni?  fowl? 
(her  mother  is  dead — she  cries  too  much)  anchovies  ?  soups  ? 
eggs  ? — Nirr  no. — Signori  strangers,  take  some  wine.  Countess, 
be  merry.  Nirr  si,  &c.  &c. 


86  JOURNALS  OF 

and  although  the  ludicrous  greatly  predomi- 
nated in  these  scenes,  yet  so  much  prompt  and 
kind  attention  shown  to  the  wants  of  two  entire 
strangers  by  these  worthy  people  was  most 
pleasing.  For  all  that,  how  we  did  laugh  when 
we  talked  over  the  ways  of  this  amazing  Count 
Garrolo  ! 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  87 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

View  from  the  heights  of  Bovalino.- — Last  words  of  Conte  Garrolo. — Descent 
to  the  valleys  of  Ardore ;  pursue  our  road  to  the  sea-shore  again. — 
Arrive  at  Torre  di  Gerace.— Site  of  ancient  Locris. — Ruins. — We  strike 
inland  towards  Gerace. — Cross  the  fiumara  Merico. — Long  ascent  to  the 
picturesque  city  of  Gerace. — Description  of  Gerace  :  its  frequent  Earth- 
quakes; its  Cathedral,  &c. — Norman  Castle. — Its  inaccessible  position. 
— Extensive  prospects. — Palazzo  of  Don  Pasquale  Scaglione. — Agreeable 
and  hospitable  reception.  Large  rooms,  and  comfortable  house.  —High 
winds  frequent  at  Gerace. — Beautiful  views  of  Gerace. — Constant  occu- 
pation for  the  pencil. — Vino  Greco  of  the  Calabrese. — Locrian  coins. — A 
treatise  on  ancient  Locris,  and  our  appreciation  thereof. — The  Medico  of 
Gerace. 

August  10. — The  rising  sun  shone  brightly 
into  the  eastern  loggia  of  Count  Garrolo's 
house,  and  wide  is  the  view  therefrom  :  east- 
ward, the  sea  and  broad  lines  of  plain;  and 
westward,  the  long  mountain  ridges  in 
succession,  with  Ardore,  and  Bombili,  and 
Condajanni,  and,  clear  in  the  blue  distance, 
Gerace  on  its  hill, — successor  to  old  Locris, 
and  in  the  present  day,  a  Sott'  intendenza, 


88  JOURNALS  OF 

or  provincial  sub-governor's  residence,  and 
Capo-distretto. 

The  bustling  Count  whisked  us  all  over  the 
town,  into  the  church,  the  castle,  the  lanes, 
• — showed  us  the  views,  the  walls,  the  towns, 
the  villages,  manuscripts,  stables,  the  two 
mules,  and  the  purple  velvet  saddle  and 
crimson  housings,  with  coronets,  and  Garrolo, 
Garrolo,  Garrolo,  Garrolo_tutto-tutto-tutto, — 
put  us  in  charge  of  a  peasant  to  show  us  a 
short  cut  to  Ardore, — shook  hands  fifteen  times 
with  each  of  us,  and  then  rushed  away  with 
a  frantic  speed :  "  Scrivere  alcuni  pensieri 
poetici,  ordinare  la  servitii  (those  two  servants 
how  they  must  have  worked  \)  vendere  un 
cavallo,  comprare  grano,  cogliere  fiori,  consolare 
la  Contessa.  Addio !  addio  !  "  *  Addio,  Conte 
Garrolo  !  a  merry  obliging  little  man  you  are 
as  ever  lived,  and  the  funniest  of  created  counts 
all  over  the  world. 

A  broad  valley  intervenes  between  the  ridges 


*  To  write  down  some  poetical  thoughts ;  to  give  orders  to  the 
servants  ;  to  sell  a  horse ;  to  buy  some  grain ;  to  gather  some 
flowers ;  to  console  the  Countess. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  89 

of  Bovalino  and  Ardore,*  and  by  pleasant 
lanes  we  descended  to  delightful  vineyards, 
cornfields,  and  figgeries  (if  there  be  such  a 
word),  where  our  peasant-guide  loaded  us  with 
fruit,  and  left  us.  We  decided  on  not  going 
into  the  town  of  Ardore,  as  it  had  not  a  very 
prepossessing  exterior,  and  to  see  all  the  towns 
of  Calabria  would  have  occupied  too  much 
time ;  so,  ascending  the  hill  on  which  it  stands, 
we  crossed  the  narrow  ridge,  *and  descended 
once  more  towards  the  sea — a  wide  tract  of 
cultivation  now  separating  us  from  Gerace  on 
its  remarkable  hill.  About  noon  we  rested  at 
a  roadside  osteria,  for  the  sake  of  shade  and 
water  melons,  (you  buy  three  of  the  largest  for 
21  grani);  and,  continuing  to  plod  along  the 
broad,  dusty  level  road,  we  passed  Condajanni 
on  our  left — apparently  very  picturesque — and 
shortly  afterwards  came  to  the  Torre  di  Gerace, 
a  single  tower  of  the  Middle  Ages,  standing  on 
the  edge  of  the  sea-shore,  at  the  spot  which 
antiquaries  recognise  as  the  indubitable  site 


*  "  Ardore  was,"  says  Pacichelli,  "  called  Odore,  from  its  many 
flowers." 


90  JOURNALS   OF 

of  ancient  Locris.  Foundations  of  antique 
buildings  exist  for  a  great  extent  in  all  the 
vineyards  around,  and  innumerable  coins  are 
dug  up  by  the  labourers.  Very  pretty  is  that 
gray  tower,  standing  all  alone  on  the  rock  by 
the  blue  waves,  with  a  background  of  the 
graceful  hill  of  Gerace,  and  the  many  lines  of 
more  distant  and  loftier  mountains.  Kound 
the  foot  of  the  Locrian  tower,  and  all  over  the 
sandy  spiaggia,  or  beach,  grow  abundance  of 
the  whitest  amaryllis,  filling  the  air  with  their 
delightful  perfume.  At  half-past  one  we  left 
the  sea-side,  and,  soon  arriving  at  the  broad 
fiumara,  the  river  Merico,  which  runs  below 
Gerace,  we  crossed  it,  and  thence  began  the 
extremely  long  and  gradual  ascent  leading  to 
this  grand  and  most  picturesque  place,  where 
we  arrived  at  half-past  four,  P.M. 

Gerace,*  one  of  the  three  Sott'  intendenze, 


t  Gerace,  Gierazzo,  (Fra  Alberto,)  Hieraci  (Mazzella).  Not  a 
bad  plate  of  it  in  Pacichelli.  All  antiquarians  agree  that  it 
represents  Locris,  though  it  seems  uncertain  if  the  Greek  city 
stood  close  to  the  shore,  or  on  the  slopes  of  the  hill  on  which 
the  modern  town  is  built.  Frequent  mention  is  made  by  several 
old  authors,  that  manna  is  found  along  the  Locrian  territory ; 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  91 

into  which  Calabria  Ulteriore  1.  is  divided,  is 
a  large  cathedral  town,  full  of  beautifully-placed 
buildings,  situated  on  a  very  narrow  ridge  of 
rock,  every  part  of  which  seems  to  have  been 
dangerously  afflicted  by  earthquakes. —  splits, 
and  cracks,  and  chasms,  horrible  with  abundant 
crookednesses  of  steeples,  and  a  general  appear- 
ance of  instability  in  walls  and  houses.  Towards 
the  north-west,  the  sharp  crest  of  rock  ends 
abruptly  in  a  precipice,  which  on  three  sides 
is  perfectly  perpendicular.  Here  are  the  dark 
and  crumbling  ruins  of  a  massive  Norman 
castle,  from  which,  by  a  scrambling  path,  you 
may  reach  the  valley  below  ;  but  all  other  parts 
of  the  town  are  accessible  only  by  two  winding 
roads  at  the  eastern  and  less  precipitous 
approach.  The  great  height  at  which  this 
place  is  situated,  and  its  isolated  site,  give  it  a 
command  of  views  the  most  wide  and  beautiful 
in  character  :  that  towards  the  sea  being 
bounded  by  Rocella  'on  the  north,  and  Capo 


Marafioti  speaks  of  "manna  which  falls  from  the  sky,"  as  com- 
monly abounding  in  the  woods  of  the  eastern  side  of  Calabria,  and 
particularly  in  the  vicinity  of  Gerace  and  Bovalino. 


92  JOURNALS  OF 

Bruzzano  to  the  south ;  while  the  inland 
mountain  ranges  towards  the  west,  are  sub- 
limely interesting.  In  fact,  Gerace  is  by  far 
the  grandest  and  proudest  object  in  general 
position,  and  as  a  city,  which  we  have  yet  seen 
in  Calabria. 

Consigliere  da  Nava  had  given  us  a  letter  to 
Don  Pasquale  Scaglione,  who  inhabits  one  of 
the  largest  houses  in  the  city,  overlooking  the 
whole  eastern  sea  view  from  its  windows.  Don 
Pasquale,  a  prepossessing  and  gentlemanlike 
person,  welcomed  us  warmly ;  and  after  we  had 
had  the  usual  snow  and  wine,  and  had  made 
ourselves  comfortable  with  some  water  and 
half-an-hour's  sleep,  set  us  down  to  an  admir- 
able dinner — albeit,  their  own  was  long  ago 
finished.  Nothing  can  be  kinder  nor  more 
well-bred  than  the  hospitable  reception  given 
us  by  this  family,  who  remind  me  more  of  the 
Abruzzesi  than  any  of  those  Calabrese  I  have 
yet  seen.  After  dinner, "we  went  out  to  the 
unsafe  precipices  of  the  Castle,  which  frowns 
magnificently  in  its  decay ;  but  the  wind,  for 
which  even  on  clear  days  Gerace  is  notorious, 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  93 

was  too  high  to  allow  of  drawing  happily,  so 
we  passed  the  evening  at  home  in  conversation 
with  these  new  acquaintances. 

August  11. — Early  we  wandered  near  the 
town  on  the  ascent  from  the  sea-side,  and  drew 
till  eleven,  wondering  at  the  infinity  of  pictures 
presenting  themselves  on  every  side :  each  rock, 
shrine,  and  building  at  Gerace  seems  arranged 
and  coloured  on  purpose  for  artists,  and  the 
union  of  lines  formed  by  nature  and  art  is 
perfectly  delicious.  Of  costume  there  seems 
little  enough,  except  that  all  the  women  dress 
in  black,  and  wear  the  skirt  of  their  outer 
dresses  turned  over  the  head,  like  those  of 
Civita  Castellana  in  the  Roman  States.  At 
twelve  we  dined  at  the  Casa  Scaglione.  This 
is  a  very  well-bred  and  agreeable  family  in 
essentials,  although  there  are  certain  Calabrian 
modes  and  usages  less  refined  than  those  of  the 
northern  provinces  among  families  of  a  similar 
class.  Donna  Peppina  Scaglione,  the  eldest 
brother's  wife,  is  very  pretty  and  lady-like  in 
appearance,  and  with  agreeable  manners.  Then 


94  JOURNALS  OF 

there  are  the  brothers,  Don  Nicola  and  Don 
Gaetano,  the  canonico,  and  Don  Abennate,  a 
priest  of  Stilo,  staying  in  the  house  as  a  guest, 
and  little  Don  Cicile,  the  heir,  of  five  or  six 
years  old,  a  quaint  little  Calabrian,  full  of  joy 
and  fun.  Their  family  dinner  consisted  of 
soup,  fish,  boiled  and  fried  meat,  and  potatoes, 
all  plain  and  excellent. 

After  dinner,  the  last  act  of  which  was  to 
imbibe  sundry  glasses  of  an  old  wine,  much 
esteemed  by  the  Calabresi,  and  called  Greco, 
we  adjourned  to  the  great  show-room,  or  salone, 
of  the  Palazzo,  the  view  from  which  eastward 
is  most  splendid.  Here  Don  Pasquale  showed 
us  a  large  collection  of  Locrian,  Syracusan, 
Koman,  and  other  coins  found  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, after  which  our  good  host  victimised 
us  fearfully  by  reading  aloud  chapter  after 
chapter  of  a  work  which  he  is  writing  on  Locris 
— an  "  opus  magnum/'  which,  however  learned, 
was  vastly  dull.  All  hints  about  repose  were 

vain ;   so  when  P fell  fast  asleep,  and  I 

was  nearly  following  his  example,  I  was  about 
to  beg  we  might  retire,  when  the  author  himself 


A  LANDSCAPE   PAINTER.  95 

yawned,  and  paused,  and  fell  into  the  arms  of 
the  drowsy  god,  whereupon  the  committee  of 
literature  was  broken  up  nem.  con. 

After  siesta,  drawing  again.  A  beautiful 
trait  of  Gerace  is  its  admirable  colour;  its 
white  or  delicate  fawn-hued  cliffs,  and  gray  or 
dove-coloured  buildings  coming  beautifully  off 
the  purple  of  mountains.  Eeturning  at  Ave 
Maria,  and  eating  ices  in  a  cafe,  we  encountered 
the  medico,  whom  we  had  seen  at  Sta  Agata  di 
Bianco :  the  Baroness  Franco  had  died  on  the 
morning  we  left  the  house ;  so  that  we  now 
fully  understood  the  mournful  silence  of  the 
family,  aware  of  her  near  dissolution,  but 
anxious  that  if  possible  any  excuse  to  relieve 
them  from  the  exercise  of  hospitality  should  be 
avoided.  A  most  pleasing  instance  of  good 
feeling,  and  well  worth  remembering.  Supper 
with  the  Scaglione  family,  who  are  really  very 
agreeable  people :  it  being  Wednesday,  scate, 
prawns,  and  rice-risolles  are  the  order  of  the 
day. 


96  JOURNALS  OF 


CHAPTER  IX. 

We  remain  at  Gerace,  and  draw  constantly. — Evening  visit  to  the  Sott'  in- 
tendente. — Cathedral  of  Gerace. — Church  of  S.  Francesco. — We  leave 
the  Palazzo  Scaglione,  and  descend  to  the  river  Novito. — Arrangements 
to  return  to  Gerace,  so  as  to  visit  all  this  province  before  proceeding  to 
Calabria  Ulteriore,  II. — Town  of  Siderno ;  dress  of  the  women. — General 
civility  of  the  peasantry  and  of  all  orders  of  people. — Descent  to  the  sea- 
shore.— Magnificent  appearance  of  Rocella. — Approach  to  the  town. — 
Night  comes  ere  we  ascend  the  rock. — Search  in  the  darkness  for  the 
Casa  Manni. — Hospitable  reception  by  the  family  of  Don  Giuseppe 
Manni. — Ancient  palace. — Our  fatigue  and  inaptitude  at  conversation. — 
Endless  interrogatories.  —  The  Rocellesi  are  decided  in  their  opinions  as 
to  our  native  productions. — Their  rejection  of  our  fruits  and  vegetables 
as  wholly  fabulous. 

August  12 — A  day  passed  in  drawing  either 
on  the  platform  below  the  town,  or  on  the 
open  space  near  the  old  castle.  The  powdery 
state  of  the  architecture  of  Gerace  is  not  agree- 
able when  under  the  influence  of  the  winds 
usually  prevailing  around  the  isolated  rock. 
There  is  a  feeling  of  home  about  the  good 
family  Scaglione  and  their  ways,  which  is  most 
pleasing.  In  the  evening  we  all  adjourned  for 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  97 

a  priraa  sera  visit  to  the  house  of  the  Sott'- 
intendente,  Don  Antonio  Buonafede,  and 
there  passed  an  hour  or  two,  ere  the  return 
to  supper,  in  showing  drawings  to  admiring 
officials  and  their  families. 

August  13 — We  had  arranged  to  start  after 
dinner  for  Rocella,  the  next  place  in  our  line 
to  the  north-east  corner  of  the  province,  so  we 
devoted  the  morning  to  our  hosts,  going  with 
them  to  see  the  lions  of  their  native  town. 
The  cathedral  of  Gerace  must  have  been  most 
interesting  as  it  formerly  existed ;  but  except 
the  great  number  of  columns  from  ancient 
Locris,  the  Norman  building  has  totally  dis- 
appeared, all  the  upper  part  having  been 
destroyed  by  the  great  earthquake  of  1783,* 
which  left  half  Gerace  in  ruins.  There  is  a 
crypt  below  the  cathedral,  which,  to  architects, 
would  prove  extremely  interesting,  as  would 
the  mosaic  altars  in  the  upper  building,  as  well 
as  those  of  San  Francesco,  another  church  in 
the  city. 

*  See  Hon.  K.  Craven  on  the  Cathedral  of  Gerace.    Swinburne. 


98  JOURNALS  OF 

Having  made  all  ready  before  dinner,  we 
quitted  the  amiable  family  of  Scaglione  soon 
afterwards,  promising  to  return  to  them  on  our 
way  back  from  Stilo,  for  I  purpose  to  go  no 
further  northward  than  that  town,  the  boundary 
of  this  province.  Thence,  in  order  to  see  the 
whole  of  Calabria  Ulteriore  I.,  before  advancing 
into  the  next  division,  it  appears  to  me  that 
the  best  plan  is,  having  gone  northward  by  the 
sea-shore,  to  return  hither  by  the  hills  (Gerace 
being  a  central  point  of  the  province),  and  then 
cross  them  to  the  western  side  of  the  peninsula. 

Descending  to  the  River  Novito,  whose 
broad  fiumara  runs  from  the  mountains  north 
of  Gerace  to  the  sea,  we  ascended  the  hill  of 
Siderno,  and  passed  through  that  town,  a  large, 
but  not  picturesque  place.  The  costumes  of 
the  peasantry  are,  however,  becoming  more 
marked  in  character ;  the  women  all  wear  deep- 
blue  dresses,  with  four-inch  broad  orange  or 
pink  borders,  and  their  heads  are  covered  with 
black  or  white  panni-cloths,  adjusted  as  in  the 
province  of  Terra  di  Lavoro.  Throughout 
this,  and  all  our  walks  hitherto,  the  civility  and 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  99 

friendliness  of  every  person  we  meet  is  most 
agreeable.  Hence,  leaving  the  Marina  di 
Siderno  on  the  right  (it  is  said  to  be  a  thriving 
place  among  the  little  ports  of  this  coast),  we 
descended  towards  the  sea  in  a  northerly  direc- 
tion, and  after  many  a  long  lane,  by  olive- 
grounds  and  fig-gardens,  reached  the  beach. 
Rocella,  on  its  rocky  cape,  always  a  beautiful 
object  even  from  Gerace,  becomes  more  and 
more  beautiful  as  one  advances  towards  it ;  but 
the  hour  grew  late,  and  so  low  was  the  sun, 
that  it  was  only  by  hard  running  that  I  reached 
a  spot,  among  aloes  and  olives,  by  the  sea-side, 
near  enough  to  draw  the  fine  outline  before  me. 
When  the  sun  had  set,  there  were  yet  three 
miles  to  the  town,  over  a  flat  ground,  inter- 
sected with  deceitful  ravines,  so  that  delays  in 
approaching  it  were  as  unexpected  as  unavoid- 
able. Troops  of  peasants  passed  us,  playing  on 
the  Zampogne  merrily ;  dark  grew  the  sky,  and 
the  stars  were  bright,  as  we  arrived  at  the  foot 
of  the  suburbs  of  Kocella — once  a  stronghold  of 
the  Caraffa  family — now  a  collection  of  scattered 
houses  below,  and  a  knot  of  others  on  the  double 

H   2 


100  JOURNALS  OF 

fortress  rock.  Don  Giuseppe  Nanni,  to  whom 
our  letter  directed  us,  we  were  told  lived  close 
to  the  castle  ;  so  up  we  went  to  the  upper 
rock,  through  black  arches  and  passages  to  a 
piazza  surrounded  by  houses,  all,  as  we  could 
see,  by  their  ragged  walls  against  the  sky,  in 
utter  ruin. 

Ciccio  shouted  aloud,  but  no  signs  of  life 
were  given  in  the  total  darkness.  We  tried 
this  turning — it  was  blocked  up  by  a  dead  wall ; 
that  way  you  stumbled  among  sleeping  horses  ; 
the  next  path  led  you  to  the  precipice.  We 
despaired,  and  remained  calling  forth  "  ai !  ai ! 
Don  Giuseppe  Nanni !  Oo  !  ooo  !  ai  ai ! "  till 
we  were  hoarse,  but  there  was  no  other  way 
of  attracting  attention.  At  last  (as  if  there 
had  been  no  steps  taken  at  all  to  arouse  the 
neighbourhood),  a  man  came,  as  it  were  casually, 
forth  from  the  dark  ruins,  holding  a  feeble 
light,  and  saying  mildly,  "Cosa  cercate?"* 
"  We  seek  Don  Giuseppe  Nanni's  house,''  said 
we.  "  This  is  it,"  said  he.  So  we  walked,  with 


What  do  you  want  ? 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  101 

no  small  pleasure,  into  the  very  place  under 
whose  windows  we  had  been  screaming  for  the 
last  hour  past.  It  was  a  very  old  palazzo,  with 
tiny  rooms,  built  against  a  rock,  and  standing  on 
the  extreme  edge  of  the  precipice  towards  the 
sea.  As  usual,  the  family  received  us  cordially 
—  Don  •  Giuseppe,  and  Don  Aristide,  the 
Canonico,  and  Don  Ferdinando ;  and  during 
the  doleful  two  hours  preceding  supper,  we  sat 
alternately  watching  the  stars,  or  listening  to 
the  owl-answering-owl  melody  in  the  rocks 
above  our  heads,  or  fought  bravely  through  the 
al  solito  questions  about  the  tunnel,  and  the 
produce  of  Inghilterra,  though  I  confess  to 
having  been  more  than  once  fast  asleep,  and, 
waking  up  abruptly,  answered  at  random,  in 
the  vaguest  manner,  to  the  applied  catechetical 
torture.  I  will  not  say  what  I  did  not  aver  to 
be  the  natural  growth  of  England  —  camels, 
cochineal,  sea-horses,  or  gold-dust ;  and  as  for 
the  celebre  tunnel,  I  fear  I  invested  it  drowsily 
with  all  kinds  of  fabulous  qualities.  Supper 
was  at  last  announced,  and  an  addition  to  our 
party  was  made  in  the  handsome  wife  of  Don 


102  JOURNALS  OF 

Ferdinando,  and  other  females  of  the  family, 
though  I  do  not  think  they  shared  greatly  in 
the  conversation.  Vegetables  and  fruit  alone 
embellished  the  table.  The  world  of  Rocella 
particularly  piques  itself  on  the  production  and 
culture  of  fruit ;  and  our  assertion  that  we  had 
fruit  in  England,  was  received  with  thinly 
hidden  incredulity. 

"  You  confess  you  have  no  wine — no  oranges 
— no  olives — no  figs ; — how,  then,  can  you  have 
apples,  pears,  or  plums  ?  It  is  a  known  fact  that 
TZO  fruit  does  or  can  grow  in  England,  only 
potatoes,  and  nothing  else  whatever — this  is 
well  known.  Why,  then,  do  you  tell  us  that 
which  is  not  true  ?  " 

It  was  plain  we  were  looked  upon  as  vagabond 
impostors. 

"Ma  davvero,"*  said  we,  humbly;  "davvero 


*  But  indeed  we  have  fruit ;  and,  what  is  more,  we  have  some 
fruits  which  you  have  not  got  at  all. 

Oh  what  fruit  can  you  possibly  have  that  we  have  not  ?  Oh 
how  you  are  laughing  at  us !  Name  your  fruits  then — these 
fabulous  fruits ! 

"We  have  currants,  gooseberries,  and  greengages. 

And  what  are  gooseberries  and  greengages?  There  are  no 
such  things — this  is  nonsense. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  103 

abbiamo  de'frutti — e  di  piu,  ne  abbiamo  certi 
frutti  che  loro  non  hanno  affatto."  Suppressed 
laughter  and  supercilious  sneers,  when  this 
assertion  was  uttered,  nettled  our  patriotic 
feelings. 

"  0  che  mai  frutti  possono  avere  loro  che 
non  abbiamo  noi  ?  O  quanto  ci  burlano ! 

Nominateli  dunque •  questi  frutti  vostri 

favolosi ! " 

"  Giacche  volete  sapere,"  said  we  ;  "  abbiamo 
Currants  —  abbiamo  Gooseberries  —  abbiamo 
Greengages." 

"  E  che  cosa  sono  Gooseberries  e  Gringhegi?" 
said  the  whole  party,  in  a  rage  ;  "  non  ci  sono 
queste  cose — sono  sogni." 

So  we  ate  our  supper  in  quiet,  convinced 
almost  that  we  had  been  telling  lies ;  that 
gooseberries  were  unreal  and  fictitious ;  green- 
gages a  dream. 


104  JOURNALS  OE 


CHAPTER  X. 

We  pass  the  morning  at  Rocella. — Its  magnificently  picturesque  character. 
— We  leave  Rocella  and  the  sea-side. — Cross  the  River  Alaro. — Rich  vege- 
tation.— Ascent  to  Stignano. — Vast  herds  of  goats. — Two  pointed  hats 
from  the  province  of  Catanzaro  —  The  family  of  Don  Cicillo  Caristo. — 
Evening  in  the  balcony. — Little  owls. — Hospitality  as  usual. —  Some- 
what of  dullness. — Prospective  costumes  in  Northern  Calabria. — F6te  of 
the  Madonna. — Drums  and  noise. — We  grow  weary  of  Stignano. — The 
dinner. — New  idea  for  a  valentine;  Cupid  among  the  maccaroni. — We 
set  off  to  Stilo. — The  river  Stillaro. — Grand  character  and  architectural 
beauty  of  Stilo. — Its  magnificent  situation. — Its  well-kept  streets. — House 
of  Don  Ettore  Marzano. — Agreeable  host  and  thoroughly  cordial  recep- 
tion.— Difficulty  of  selecting  views  among  a  multitude  of  fine  points. — 
A  visit  to  Bazzano. — Courteous  manners  of  peasantry. — Daily  thunder- 
storm.— Agreeable  stay  at  Stilo. — Fly-flappers. — Life  at  Stilo. — Conver- 
sazione.— Plans  for  continuing  the  tour. 

August  14.  -  -  We  politely  declined  Don 
Aristide  as  cicerone  through  the  town,  as  we 
had  but  the  morning  to  choose  points  to  sketch 
from,  as  well  as  to  work  hard,  for  we  had  planned 
to  go  as  far  towards  Stilo  as  possible  in  the 
afternoon.  Full  occupation  was  there  in 
Rocella  till  noon,  for  the  town  and  rock  is  a 
little  world  of  scenic  splendour,  and  besides  its 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  105 

various  beauties  as  a  whole,  its  details  are 
exquisite — palm-trees  and  all  sorts  of  vegetable 
incidents  included.  The  Nanni  family  are  good 
hearty  people,  but  less  refined  than  the  Scaglioni 
of  Gerace.  At  dinner  they  had  procured  dishes 
of  the  largest  pears  and  apples  to  be  found  in 
Kocella,  by  way  of  dessert,  and  they  watched 
our  faces  for  signs  of  mortification  thereat, 
evidently  attributing  our  non-amazement  to  our 
firm  resolve  not  to  tell  truth,  and  betray  our 
country's  horticultural  failings. 

At  half-past  two  we  left  Kocella,  certainly 
one  of  the  very  finest  coast  scenes  of  Southern 
Calabria,  and  turning  round  the  end  of  the 
promontory,  pursued  our  way  northward  along 
the  sea-shore;  but  so  frequently  were  we 
tempted  to  sketch,  that  there  were  no  hopes  of 
reaching  Stilo  ere  night-fall.  After  passing  the 
Kiver  Alaro,  too  large  a  stream  to  be  crossed  on 
foot,  we  struck  inland,  through  lanes  bordered 
with  every  possible  kind  of  shrub,  and  rich  with 
the  most  luxurious  vegetation ;  and  as  we 
commenced  the  long  ascent  to  the  large  village 
of  Stignano,  the  mountain  views  were  more 


106  JOURNALS  OF 

than  ordinarily  first-rate.  In  the  wide  fiumara 
of  the  Alaro,  we  observed  a  flock  of  five  or  six 
hundred  goats  among  the  picturesque  accidents 
of  the  day  ;  and  we  also  met  two  men  with  real 
positive  pointed  hats — a  circumstance  of  the 
most  exciting  nature.  Are  we  then  at  last 
leaving  the  land  of  Sicilian  long  blue  nightcaps  ? 
But,  alas,  quoth  the  spokesman  of  our  two 
peasants,  "  Siamo  della  provincia  di  Catanzaro 
—  siamo  di  Squillace."*  So  we  must  wait 
patiently  yet. 

At  Stignano  we  arrived  late.  It  is  a  wild 
place  on  a  steep  height,  and  we  went  with  a 
letter  to  the  house  of  Don  Cicillo  Caristd,  who 
received  us  heartily  enough;  but,  in  common 
with  all  his  family,  overwhelmed  and  grieved  us 
with  bitter  lamentations  that  they  were  obliged 
to  live  at  Stignano.  Once  they  lived  in  Napoli, 
but  now  they  were  doomed  to  lifelong  dis- 
content concerning  all  things  in  general,  and 
their  Stignano  existence  in  particular :  like  the 
people  in  the  happy  valley  of  Rasselas,  they 


*  We  come  from  the  province  of  Catanzaro — we  come  from 
Squillace. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  107 

said,  we  feel  a  chain  around  us,  and  would 
sacrifice  all  to  go  once  more  into  the  gay  world ! 
The  unexpected  decease  of  an  elder  member  of 
the  family  had  given  the  present  possessor  his 
little  property  in  this  remote  village ;  and  very 
ill  did  the  gift  of  fortune  seem  appreciated. 

We  sate  all  the  evening  in  a  balcony  looking 
towards  the  mountains  ;  pleasant  pastime 
enough,  as  the  moon  shone  brightly,  and  we 
listened  to  the  "  gufi,"  or  little  owls,  answering 
each  other  far  and  near ;  yet,  for  all  this, 
we  were  half  asleep  before  the  supper  was 
announced,  and  moreover  the  family  of  Caristd 
were  not  possessed  of  any  conversational  talents. 
Nothing  did  they  care  for  the  Thames  Tunnel, 
and  as  little  for  the  produce  of  England.  The 
grandfather,  the  host,  his  children  of  all  ages, 
and  some  old  domestics,  composed  the  party ; 
and  what  was  wanting  in  refinement  was  made 
up  in  good-will  and  heartiness  to  us,  though 
among  themselves  the  circle  seemed  rather  to 
jar  and  spar. 

The  costume  of  the  good-looking  girl  who 
waited  at  table  was  the  prettiest  we  had  seen  ; 


108  JOURNALS  OF 

and  say  the  Stignanesi,  "  if  costumes  please  you, 
you  will  find  better  ones  at  every  place  you  go 
to  henceforward." 

August  15. — It  is  not  easy  in  this  wandering 
life  to  arrange  matters  so  as  to  see  certain  parts 
of  the  country  with  a  view  to  a  comfortable 
division  of  halting  places.  In  order  to  have 
more  leisure  at  Stilo,  we  agree  to  pass  the 
morning  here,  and  to  go  thither  after  dinner; 
and  though  all  Stignano,  on  account  of  the  day 
being  the  festival  of  the  Madonna,  seems  to  have 
formed  itself  into  a  committee  of  drummers,  we 
must  bear  the  noise  as  best  we  may. 

But  it  must  be  confessed  that  life  at  Stignano 
is  oppressive.  The  famiglia  Caristd  would 
never  leave  us  alone ;  when  they  do  not 
catechise,  they  stand  in  a  row  and  stare  at  us 
with  all  their  might ;  and  the  grandpaternal 
Caristo  is  a  thoroughly  scrutinising  and  insa- 
tiable bore.  At  dinner,  also,  there  was  a  most 
confused  assemblage  of  large  dogs  under  the 
table  who  fought  for  casual  crumbs  and  bones, 
and  when  they  did  not  accidentally  bite  one's 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  109 

extremities,  rushed,  wildly  barking,  all  about 
the  little  room.  But  the  most  remarkable 
accident  during  our  stay  was  caused  by  a  small 
juvenile  Caristo,  who,  during  the  mid-day  meal, 
climbed  abruptly  on  to  the  table,  and  before 
he  could  be  rescued,  performed  a  series  of 
struggles  among  the  dishes,  which  ended  by  the 
little  pickle's  losing  his  balance  and  collapsing 
suddenly  in  a  sitting  posture  into  the  very 

middle  of  the  maccaroni  dish,  from  which  P 

and  I  rejoiced  to  think  we  had  been  previously 
helped.  One  sees  in  valentines  Cupids  on  beds 
of  roses,  or  on  birds'  nests ;  but  a  slightly- 
clothed  Calabrese  infant  sitting  in  the  midst  of 
a  hot  dish  of  maccaroni  appears  to  me  a  perfectly 
novel  idea. 

At  half-past  three  we  commenced  our  journey 
northward  once  more.  The  route  from  Stig- 
nano  to  Stilo  is  a  mule-track  threading  a  wild 
region  between  mountain  ranges,  which  here 
shut  out  all  view  of  the  sea ;  the  hills  extending 
far  eastward  to  the  coast,  so  as  to  leave  but 
little  space  for  cultivation.  In  less  than  an 
hour  we  arrived  at  the  Stillaro ;  which  the 


110  JOURNALS  OF 

violent  rains,  accompanying  a  thunder-storm  at 
noon,  had  so  swollen,  that  the  crossing  it  was 
not  to  be  easily  performed  on  foot :  the  imper- 
turbable Ciccio,  however,  carried  us  over  on  his 
back  safely  enough.  Soon  the  town  of  Stilo  on 
its  height  became  visible,  and  though  it  was 
dusk  before  we  arrived  there,  yet  there  was 
light  enough  to  perceive  that  its  general  aspect 
was  most  promisingly  picturesque ;  standing 
immediately  below  perpendicular  precipices,  it 
is  built  on  a  sort  of  amphitheatrical  terrace,  the 
projecting  rocks  at  each  extremity  crowned  with 
the  most  picturesque  churches  and  convents. 
There  appeared  to  be  more  evidence  of  care 
and  cleanliness  in  the  streets  than  in  other 
Calabrian  places  we  had  passed  through,  and 
there  was  an  air  of  orderly  feeling  and  decent 
neatness,  which  struck  us  as  remarkable  in  a 
place  more  remote  from  the  capital  than  any 
we  had  yet  visited.  Don  Ettore  Marzano,  to 
whom  our  introduction  was  addressed,  seemed 
a  thoroughly  hearty,  as  well  as  polite,  young 
man,  and  his  large  house  was  well  kept  and 
comfortable  (speaking  of  things  as  they  are  in 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  Ill 

Italy),  though  without  attempt  at  splendour. 
With  ready  alacrity  our  host  put  us  in  pos- 
session of  two  large  rooms,  and  then  leaving 
us,  sent  a  servant  to  administer  to  our  wants ; 
a  tact  and  attention  which  reminded  me  of  my 
old  friends  of  Abruzzo,  whom  I  was  continually 
holding  up  to  my  fellow-traveller  as  the  models 
of  Italian  provincials.  Supper,  a  simple  and 
good  one,  was  announced  when  ready,  without 
any  preparatory  waiting  or  questions  ;  our  host, 
a  bachelor,  being  the  third  of  the  party.  The 
friendly  and  gentleman-like  tone  of  this  all' 
improvviso  reception,  in  so  remote  a  district, 
greatly  delighted  us. 

-*• 

August  16 — When  a  landscape  painter  halts 
for  two  or  three  days  in  one  of  the  large  towns 
of  these  regions,  never  perhaps  to  be  revisited 
by  him,  the  first  morning  at  least  is  generally 
consumed  in  exploring  it :  four  or  five  hours 
are  very  well  spent,  if  they  lead  to  the  know- 
ledge of  the  general  forms  of  the  surrounding 
scenes,  and  to  the  securing  fixed  choice  of  sub- 
ject and  quiet  study  to  the  artist  during  the 


112  JOURNALS  OF 

rest  of  his  stay.  So  many  and  so  exquisite  are 
the  beauties  of  Stilo,  that  to  settle  to  drawing 
any  of  them  was  difficult,  and  after  having 
glanced  at  all  the  notabilia  close  to  the  town,  I 
employed  the  rest  of  the  morning  in  walking 
to  Bazzano  and  Bigonzi,  two  villages  on  the 
farthest  outskirts  of  Calabria  Ulteriore  I.,  in 
face  of  the  mountains  among  whose  depths  lie 
the  ruins  of  the  famous  Norman  convent  of 
Santo  Stefano  del  Bosco.  The  gorge  between 
Stilo  and  Bazzano  is  excessively  grand,  but  the 
villages  were  not  such  as  to  tempt  me  to 
sketch  them ;  the  morning's  walk,  however, 
was  delightful,  if  only  for  the  opportunity  it 
offered  of  observing  the  universally  courteous 
and  urbane  manners  of  the  peasantry.  It  is 
probable  that  no  stranger  had  ever  visited 
these  wild  and  unfrequented  nooks  of  a  pro- 
vince, the  great  towns  of  which  are  themselves 
out  of  the  route  of  travellers ;  but  no  one  met 
or  overtook  me  on  the  way  to  Bigonzi  without 
a  word  or  two  of  salutation ;  there  were  few 
who  did  not  offer  me  pears,  and  parties  of 
women  laden  with  baskets  of  figs  would  stop 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  113 

and  select  the  best  for  us.  Nor  did  anybody  ask 
a  question  beyond,  "  What  do  you  think  of  our 
mountains?"  or  "  How  do  you  like  our  village?" 
In  the  town  of  Stilo  we  were  sometimes 
followed  by  not  less  than  fifty  or  a  hundred 
people,  but  ever  with  the  utmost  good  feeling 
and  propriety.  The  well-bred  population  of 
Stilo  we  shall  ever  remember  with  pleasure. 

In  these  high  mountains,  a  mid-day  thunder- 
storm frequently  occurs  betwixt  eleven  and 
noon ;  and  this  interruption  to  the  labours  of 
the  pencil  gave  us  more  opportunity  of  con- 
versing with  our  hospitable  friends.  There  is, 
however,  but  little  to  note  in  the  house  or 
household  of  Don  Ettore  Marzano,  except  that 
all  was  perfectly  orderly  and  agreeable.  The 
only  trait  which  was  so  uncommon  as  to  be  at  all 
worth  recording,  was  that  a  domestic  stood  at 
meal-time  close  to  the  table,  and  in  order  to 
dissipate  the  flies,  which  at  this  season  are  a 
legion,  flapped  a  long  flapper  of  feathers, 
Laputa-wise,  close  to  our  faces.  No  sooner 
did  we  begin  to  speak  than  whizz — flick — down 


114  JOURNALS  OF 

came  the  flapper,  so  as  to  render  conversation 
a  rather  difficult  effort. 

August  17 — Was  passed  in  the  usual  routine 
of  drawing,  and  of  quiet  home-life  at  the  Casa 
Marzano.  Crowds  are  attracted  to  see  our 
occupation  when  we  busy  ourselves  with 
sketching  near  the  town ;  but  all  are  merry 
and  orderly.  Employment  for  life  might  be 
found  in  the  grand  and  novel  mountain  scenery 
round  this  magnificent  Stilo.  A  walk  to  a 
garden  belonging  to  Don  A.  Marzano's  family 
amused  us  in  the  later  afternoon ;  and  in  the 
evening  we  went  to  a  "  soiree,"  at  one  of  his 
uncles,  Don  Antonio  Crea.  There  were  good 
rooms  in  his  palazzo,  and  round  them  was  hung 
a  large  selection  of  engravings,  from  Claude 
and  Poussin.  Cards  were  the  principal  amuse- 
ment,  and  ices  were  handed  round  at  intervals. 
To-morrow  we  leave  this  place;  and  hope  to 
reach  Gioiosa  by  night,  if  not  compelled  by 
weather  or  lack  of  time  to  halt  at  Castel  Vetere. 
On  the  22nd  we  hope  to  be  at  Gerace  once  more, 
Canalo  having  been  visited  in  the  interval. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  115 


CHAPTER  XL 

Departure  from  Stilo. — Early  morning. — Town  of  Motta  Placanica. — Its  extra- 
ordinary appearance.- — Cross  the  river  Alaro. — Ascent  to  Castel  Vetere. 
— Palazzo  of  Don  Ilario  Asciutti. — The  grandfather  of  the  family;  his 
eloquence. — The  dinner. — Discourse  on  flesh,  fowl,  and  fish. — Our  host  is 
angry  at  our  early  departure. — We  appease  him,  and  depart. — We  de. 
scend  the  valley  of  the  river  Meano. — Come  in  sight  of  Eocella. — Ascend 
the  river  Romano,  and  reach  Qioiosa  at  dusk. — Reception  at  the  house 
of  the  Baron  Rivettini. — Interview  with  the  Baron. — Card-playing. — 
Doubts  and  questions. — The  evening  meal. — "Why?" — Coming  events 
cast  their  shadows  before. 

August  18.  —  Once  more  upon  the  road. — 
Long  before  sunrise  we  had  said  addio  to  Don 
Ettore  Marzano,  the  most  pleasing  of  the 
younger  Calabrese  gentry  whom  we  had  yet 
seen ;  a  thoroughly  good  and  hospitable  fellow, 
and  well  informed  on  most  subjects.  Stilo  we 
shall  ever  recollect  as  in  all  respects  agreeable. 

All  nature  was  deep  gray  and  brown — no 
rock  lit  up  by  the  yet  hidden  sun, — as  we 
descended  to  the  valley  -of  the  Stillaro,  and 
retraced  our  steps  as  far  as  Stignano,  the  home 


I  2 


116  JOURNALS  OF 

of  the  querulous  Caristo  family,  and  the  scene 
of  the  maccaroni-throned  infant.  Leaving  the 
town  on  our  left,  we  plunged  into  a  deep  vale 
between  olive-clothed  slopes,  and,  climbing  up 
the  opposite  side,  were  soon  in  Motta  Placanica, 
one  of  the  most  truly  characteristic  of  Calabrian 
towns.  Like  others  of  these  strange  settle- 
ments, this  place  has  no  depth,  but  is,  as  it 
were,  surface  only,  the  houses  being  built  one 
above  another,  on  ledges  and  in  crevices,  over 
the  face  of  a  large  rock  rising  into  a  peak,  its 
highest  pinnacle  being  graced  by  a  modern 
palazzo.  The  strange  effect  which  these  towns 
have,  even  upon  those  long  used  to  the  irregu- 
larities of  South  Italian  village  architecture,  is 
not  to  be  imagined; — Motta  Placanica  seems 
constructed  to  be  a  wonder  to  passers-by. 
Long  we  lingered  to  draw  this  most  singular 
place ;  and,  leaving  it  by  a  steep  descent,  we 
came  to  the  valley  of  the  Paganiti,  crossing  it 
and  winding  up  the  height  on  its  farther  side, 
whence  the  rock  of  Motta  Placanica  appeared 
like  a  giant  king  of  nine- pins,  as  seen  edgeways 
against  the  sky — no  one  of  its  buildings  but 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  117 

the  crowning  castle  being  visible.  Hence,  also, 
the  eye  ranged  beyond  the  river  Alaro,  which 
we  had  crossed  on  our  way  from  Kocella,  the 
high  hill  and  walls  of  Castel  Vetere  (repre- 
sentative of  the  ancient  Caulon*),  a  town  built 
on  one  of  those  isolated  hills  which,  to  anti- 
quarians, at  once  proclaim  an  ancient  site.  By 
the  aid  of  the  placid  Ciccio  and  his  horse,  we 
crossed  the  swollen  river,  and,  ascending  wearily 
to  the  town,  found  it,  though  mean  in  appear- 
ance from  below,  full  of  houses  of  a  large  size 
and  indicating  wealth  and  prosperity. 

To  that  of  Don  Ilario  Asciutti  we  went, 
narrowly  escaping  the  mid-day  autumn  thunder- 
storm, and  found  a  large  mansion,  with  a  hall 
and  staircase,  ante-room,  and  drawing-room 
very  surprising  as  to  dimensions  and  furniture ; 
the  walls  were  papered,  and  hung  with  mirrors, 


*  Caulon,  antiquaries  agree  in  placing  at  or  near  Castel  Vetere. 
Pacichelli  speaks  of  its  splendid  and  regular  fortress,  and  its 
palace  belonging  to  the  Caraffa  family.  The  Asciutti  are  named 
by  him  as  an  old  family.  The  modern  town  stands  between  the 
rivers  Alaro  and  Musa,  but  from  earthquakes  or  other  causes,  is 
now  in  a  very  ruinous  condition,  excepting  a  new  quarter  of  the 
town  which  is  in  process  of  building. 


118  JOURNALS  OF 

prints,  &c. ;  cheffoniers,  tables,  and  a  book-case 
adorned  the  sides  of  the  rooms,  and  there  were 
footstools,  with  other  unwonted  objects  of 
trans-Calabrian  luxury.  The  famiglia  Asciutti 
were  polite  and  most  friendly  ;  there  were  two 
smart  sons,  just  come  from  college  at  Naples  ; 
a  serene  and  silent  father  ;  and  last,  not  least, 
an  energetic  and  astute  grandsire,  before  whose 
presence  all  the  rest  were  as  nothing.  The 
Nonno*  Asciutti  was  as  voluble  as  Conte 
Garrolo ;  but  with  more  connected  ideas  and 
sentences,  and  with  an  overpowering  voice  ;  an 
expression  of  "  I/etat,  c'est  moi,"  in  all  he  said 
and  did.  The  old  gentleman  surprised  us  not 
a  little  by  his  information  on  the  subjects  on 
which  (apropos  de  bottes)  he  held  forth— the 
game  laws  of  England,  and  Magna  Charta,  the 
Reformation,  the  Revolution  of  1688,  Ireland, 
and  the  Eeform  Bill.  He  was  becoming  diffuse 
on  European  politics,  having  already  discussed 
America  and  the  Canadas,  and  glanced  slightly 
at  slavery,  the  East  and  West  Indies  and  the 


Grandfather. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  119 

sugar  trade,  when,  to  our  great  satisfaction, 
all  this  learning,  so  wonderful  in  the  heart  of 
Magna-Grecia  was  put  a  stop  to  by  the 
announcement  of  dinner.  The  silent  son,  and 
the  two  gay  grandsons,  listened  to  their  elder 
relative's  discourse,  but  took  no  part  therein ; 
and  we,  however  superior  the  matter  of  the 
oration  might  be,  greatly  longed  to  exchange 
the  orator  for  dear,  little,  fussy  Conte  Garrolo. 
In  the  large  dining-room  were  assembled 
many  female  and  juvenile  Asciutti,  all  very 
ugly ; — hitherto  we  are  not  struck  by  Calabrian 
female  beauty  in  the  higher  orders,  though 
many  of  the  peasant  girls  are  pretty.  The 
ladies  spoke  not  during  dinner,  and  the  whole 
weight  of  the  oral  entertainment  fell  on  the 
erudite  grandfather,  who  harangued  loftily 
from  his  place  at  the  end  of  the  table.  It  was 
Wednesday,  and  there  was  no  meat,  as  is  usual 
on  that  day  in  South  Italian  families.  "  It 
would  be  better,"  said  the  authoritative  elder, 
"  if  there  were  no  such  a  thing  as  meat — nobody 
ought  to  eat  any  meat.  The  Creator  never 
intended  meat,  that  is  the  flesh  of  quadrupeds, 


120  JOURNALS  OF 

to  be  eaten.  No  good  Christian  ought  to  eat 
flesh — and  why  ?  The  quadruped  works  for 
man  while  alive,  and  it  is  a  shame  to  devour 
him  when  dead.  The  sheep  gives  wool,  the  ox 
ploughs,  the  cow  gives  milk,  the  goat  cheese." 
— "  Cosa  fanno  per  noi  i  lepri  ?  "  * — whispered 
one  of  the  grandsons.  "  State vi  zitt' ! "  f  shouted 
the  orator.  "  But  fish,"  continued  he — "  what 
do  they  do  for  us  ?  Does  a  mullet  plough  ? 
Can  a  prawn  give  milk?  Has  a  tunny  any 
wool?  No.  Fish  and  birds  also  were  there- 
fore created  to  be  eaten."  A  wearisome  old 
man  was  the  Asciutti  Nonno !  but  the  alarming 
point  of  his  character  was  yet  to  be  made 
known  to  us.  No  sooner,  dinner  being  over, 
did  we  make  known  our  intention  of  proceeding 
to  sleep  at  Gioiosa  on  account  of  our  limited 
time,  than  we  repented  having  visited  Castel 
Vetere  at  all.  "  0  Cielo  !  O  rabbia !  O  che 
mai  sen  to?  O  chi  sono?  O  chi  siete?"J 
screamed  the  Nonno,  in  a  paroxysm  of  rage. 


*  "What  do  the  hares  do  for  us  ?  f    Hold  your  tongue ! 

J  Oh  heavens !  Oh  rage !  Oh  what  do  I  hear  ?     Oh  who  am 
I  ?  Oh  who  are  you  ? 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  121 

"  What  have  I  done  that  you  will  not  stay  ? 
How  can  I  bear  such  an  insult !  Since  Calabria 
was  Calabria,  no  such  affront  has  ever  been 
offered  to  a  Calabrian  !  Go — why  should  you 
go?"  In  vain  we  tried  to  assuage  the  grand- 
sire's  fury.  We  had  staid  three  days  in  Gerace, 
three  in  Keggio,  two  in  Bova  and  in  Stilo,  and 
not  one  in  Castel  Vetere !  The  silent  father 
looked  mournful,  the  grandsons  implored  ;  but 
the  wrathful  old  gentleman,  having  considerably 
endangered  the  furniture  by  kicks  and  thumps, 
finally  rushed  down  stairs  in  a  frenzy,  greatly 
to  our  discomfiture. 

The  rest  of  the  family  were  distressed 
seriously  at  this  incident,  and  on  my  sending  a 
message  to  beg  that  he  would  show  us  a  new 
palazzo  he  was  constructing  (himself  the  archi- 
tect), for  the  increased  accommodation  of  the 
family  Asciutti,  he  relented  so  far  as  to  return, 
and  after  listening  favourably  to  our  encomiastic 
remarks,  bade  us  a  final  farewell  with  a  less 
perturbed  countenance  and  spirit. 

There  are  many  fine  views  of  Castel  Vetere, 
which  has  somewhat  in  it  of  the  grandiose  and 


122  JOURNALS  OF 

classic,  from  whatever  point  regarded,  but  we 
left  it  with  less  agreeable  impressions  than 
those  we  had  carried  from  most  of  the  larger 
Calabrian  towns,  partly  from  the  feeling  that 
we  had  vexed  our  host's  family,  and  partly  that 
it  was  yet  so  far  to  go  to  Gioiosa,  that  old 
Ciccio,  with  more  than  one  admonitory  growl, 
would  not  allow  us  to  pause  to  sketch — no,  not 
even  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Soon — after 
passing  over  high  ground,  from  which  the  last 
views  of  ancient  Caulon  were  very  noble — we 
entered  the  downward  course  of  the  Meano, 
which,  eternally  winding  over  white  stones, 
shut  us  in  between  high  banks,  till  we  came,  at 
sunset,  in  sight  of  Rocella  on  its  double  rock  ; 
this,  together  with  the  river-bed,  we  bid 
farewell  to  by  taking  a  route  parallel  to  the 
coast,  as  far  as  the  Fiume  Romano,  which  we 
ascended  for  an  hour,  till  we  arrived  at  Gioiosa, 
apparently  a  large  and  well-built  town,  on  the 
banks  of  a  narrow  part  of  the  stream.  The 
house  of  the  Baron  Rivettini,  to  whom  we  had 
letters,  was  large  and  imposing,  but  the  Baron 
was  not  within,  and  the  servants,  with  none  of 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  123 

that  stranger-helping  alacrity  of  hospitality,  so 
remarkable  in  more  northern  provinces  of  the 
Regno  di  Napoli,  appeared  too  much  amazed 
at  the  sudden  arrival  of  "  due  forestieri,"  *  to 
do  anything  but  contemplate  us ;  and,  to  speak 
truth,  neither  our  appearance,  considering  we 
had  toiled  through  some  rain  and  much  dirt  all 
the  afternoon,  nor  our  suite,  consisting  of  a 
man  and  a  horse,  were  very  indicative  of  being 
"  comme  il  faut."  With  difficulty  we  obtained 
leave  to  rest  in  a  sort  of  ante-office,  half  stable, 
half  kitchen,  while  a  messenger  carried  our 
letter  of  introduction  to  the  Baron  Kivettini. 
When  he  returned,  quoth  he,  "  The  Baron  is 
playing  at  cards,  and  cannot  be  interrupted ; 
but,  as  there  is  no  locanda  in  the  town,  you 
may  sleep  where  you  are."  Unwashed,  hungry, 
and  tired  as  we  were,  and  seeing  that  there  was 
nothing  but  an  old  rug  by  way  of  furniture  in 
this  part  of  the  Baron's  premises,  we  did  not 
feel  particularly  gratified  by  this  permission, 
the  more  that  P was  rather  unwell,  and 

*.  Two  strangers. 


124  JOURNALS  OF 

I  feared  he  might  have  an  attack  of  fever ; 
neither  did  the  domestics  offer  us  caffe,  or  any 
other  mitigation  of  our  wayfaring  condition. 
"Is  there  no  caffe?"  "Nonc'e."*  "Nowine?" 
"  Non  c'e."  "  No  light  ?  "  "  Non  c'eV'  It  was 
all  "Non  c'e/'  So  said  I,  "Show  me  the  way 
to  the  house  where  the  Baron  is  playing  at 
cards.'*  But  the  proposal  was  met  with  a  blank 
silence,  wholly  unpropitious  to  our  hopes  of  a 
night's  lodging ;  and  it  was  not  until  after 
I  had  repeated  my  request  several  times,  that  a 
man  could  be  persuaded  to  accompany  me  to  a 
large  palazzo  at  no  great  distance,  the  well- 
lighted  lower  story  of  which  exhibited  offices, 
barrels,  sacks,  mules,  &c.,  all  indicative  of  the 
thriving  merchant.  In  a  spacious  salone  on 
the  first  floor  sate  a  party  playing  at  cards,  and 
one  of  them  a  minute  gentleman,  with  a  form 
more  resembling  that  of  a  sphere  than  any 
person  I  ever  remember  to  have  seen,  was 
pointed  out  to  me  as  the  Baron  by  the  shrink- 
ing domestic  who  had  thus  far  piloted  me.  But 


There  is  none. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  125 

excepting  by  a  single  glance  at  me,  the 
assembled  company  did  not  appear  aware  of  my 
entrance,  nor,  when  I  addressed  the  Baron  by 
his  name,  did  he  break  off  the  thread  of  his 
employment,  otherwise  than  by  saying,  "  Uno, 
due,  tre, — signore,  si— quattro,  cinque, — servo 
suo, — fanno  quindici."  * 

"  Has  your  Excellency  received  an  introduc- 
tory letter  from  the  Cavalier  da  Nava  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Cinque,  sei, — si,  signore, — fanno  undid,"  -f* 
said  the  Baron,  timidly. 

This,  thought  I,  is  highly  mysterious. 

"  Can  I  and  my  travelling  companion  lodge 
in  your  house,  Signor  Baron,  until  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Tre  e  sei  fanno  none,"  J  pursued  the  Baron, 
with  renewed  attention  to  the  game.  "  Ma 
perche^  signore?" 

"  Perche,  there  is  no  inn  in  this  town ;  and, 
perche,  I  have  brought  you  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction," rejoined  I. 


*    One,  two,  three, — yes,  sir, — four,  five, — your  servant,  sir, — 
make  fifteen. 

t  Five,  six, — yes,  sir,  make  eleven. 
J  Three  and  six  are  nine.  §  Why,  what  for  ? 


126  JOURNALS  OF 

"  Ah,  si  si  si,  signore,  pray  favour  me  by 
remaining  at  my  house. — Two  and  seven  are 
nine — eight  and  eleven  are  nineteen."  And 
again  the  party  went  on  with  the  Giuoco. 

There  was  an  anxiety,  and  an  expression  of 
doubt  and  mystery  on  the  faces  of  all  the 
party,  which,  however,  did  not  escape  my 
observation,  and  I  felt  sure,  as  I  left  the  room, 
that  something  was  wrong ;  though,  like  King 
Coal's  prophet  of  traditional  celebrity,  "  I  knew 
not  what  that  something  could  be." 

When  I  returned  to  the  Palazzo  Rivettini,  all 
the  scene  was  changed.  Coffee  was  brought  to 
us,  and  a  large  room  was  assigned  for  our  use, 
while  all  the  natural  impulse  of  Calabrese 
hospitality  seemed,  for  a  time  at  least,  to 
overpower  the  mysterious  spell  which,  from 
some  unknown  cause,  appeared  to  oppress 
those  inhabitants  of  Gioiosa  with  whom  we 
were  brought  in  contact.  But  the  magic 
atmosphere  of  doubt  and  astonishment  returned 
in  full  force  as  other  persons  of  the  town  came 
in  to  the  evening  conversazione.  Few  words 
were  said  but  those  of  half- suppressed  curiosity 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  127 

as  to  where  we  came  from ;  and  the  globose 
little  Baron  himself  gradually  confined  his  obser- 
vations to  the  single  interrogative,  "  Perche  ?  " 
which  he  used  in  a  breathless  manner,  on  the 
slightest  possible  provocation.  Supper  followed, 
every  part  of  the  entertainment  arrayed  with 
the  greatest  attention  to  plenty  and  comfort ;  but 
the  whole  circle  seemed  ill  at  ease,  and  regarded 
our  looks  and  movements  with  unabated 
watchfulness,  as  if  we  might  explode,  or  escape 
through  the  ceiling  at  any  unexpected  moment ; 
so  that  both  hosts  and  guests  seemed  but  too 
well  pleased  when  we  returned  to  our  room,  and 
the  incessant  "  Perche  ?  perche  ?  perche  ?  "  was, 
for  this  evening  at  least,  silenced. 

By  all  this  mystery — so  very  unusual  to  the 
straightforward  and  cordial  manners  of  these 
mountaineers — there  was  left  on  my  mind  a 
distinct  impression  of  some  supposed  or  antici- 
pated evil.  "  Coming  events  cast  their  shadows 
before/' 


128  JOURNALS  OF 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  anxious  Baron. — Passports. — Coffee  with  sugar. — Drawing  the  town  of 
Gioiosa. — Its  beautiful  situation. — " Why?" — Bee-eaters. — Sugar-plums. 
— We  leave  the  Casa  Rivettini  and  Gioiosa. — Recross  the  rivers  Romano 
and  Novito. — Ascent  to  Agnano. — Copper  mines. — Visit  of  the  King  of 
Naples  to  them. — The  fortunate  donkey  driver. — View  of  Canalo  from  the 
ravine  of  the  Novito. — Strange  position  of  the  village. — The  Passo  del 
Mercante. — Don  Giovanni  Rosa. — His  hospitable  welcome. — The  careful 
Ciccio. — Magnificent  mountain  scenery  and  environs  of  Canalo. — Content 
and  simplicity  of  old  Don  Giovanni  Rosa. — Paradise  and  Canalo. — Roast 
squirrels  and  fungi. — Ornithological  cookery. — Geographical  ornaments 
of  the  Palazzo  Rosa. — Wondrous  and  majestic  scenes. — We  leave  Canal o: 
recross  the  Novito,  and  ascend  to  Gerace. — Return  to  the  Casa  Scag- 
lione. — Preparations  for  fetes. — Episcopal  injunctions  against  dancing. 
— Quiet  repose  of  Gerace. — Arrival  of  peasantry  for  the  fete. — Procession 
of  the  image  of  a  patron  saint. — Beautiful  scenery  on  the  castle  rock. — 
Moonlight. — The  festa. 

August  19. — As  usual,  we  rose  before  sunrise. 
"0  Dio !  perche?"  said  the  diminutive  Baron 
Rivettini,  who  was  waiting  outside  the  door, 
lest  perhaps  we  might  have  attempted  to  pass 
through  the  keyhole.  A  suite  of  large  drawing- 
rooms  was  thrown  open,  and  thither  caffe  was 
brought  with  the  most  punctilious  ceremony. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  129 

My  suspicions  of  last  night  were  confirmed  by 
the  great  precision  with  which  our  passports 
were  examined,  and  by  the  minute  manner  in 
which  every  particular  relating  to  our  eyes, 
noses,  and  chins,  was  written  down  ;  nor  was  it 
until  after  endless  interrogatories  and  more 
11  perches"  than  are  imaginable,  that  we  were 
released.  But  our  usual  practice  of  taking  a 
small  piece  of  bread  with  our  coffee  renewed 
the  universal  surprise  and  distrust  of  our  hosts. 

"  Pane  !  "  said  the  Baron,  "  perche  pane  ?  O 
Cielo  ! " 

"  I  never  take  sugar/'  said  P ,  as  some 

was  offered  to  him. 

"Sant*  Antonio,  non  prendete  zucchero? 
Perche  ?  O  Dio !  perche  mai  non  prendete 
zucchero  ?  "  * 

"We  want  to  make  a  drawing  of  your  pretty 
little  town,"  said  I ;  and,  in  spite  of  a  perfect 
hurricane  of  "  perches,"  out  we  rushed,  followed 
by  the  globular  Baron,  in  the  most  lively  state 
of  alarm,  down  the  streets,  across  the  river  on 


Do  you  not  take  sugar  ?  &c. 


130  JOURNALS  OF 

stepping-stones,  and  up  the  opposite  bank, 
from  the  steep  cliffs  of  which,  overhung  with 
oak  foliage,  there  is  a  beautiful  view  of  Gioiosa 
on  its  rock. 

"O  per  carita!  O  Cielo !  O  San  Pietro! 
cosa  mai  volete  fare  ? "  said  the  Baron,  as  I 
prepared  to  sit  down. 

"  I  am  going  to  draw  for  half-an-hour,"  said  I. 

16  Ma— perche  ?  " 

And  down  I  sate,  working  hard  for  nearly  an 
hour,  during  all  which  time  the  perplexed 
Baron  walked  round  and  round  me,  occasionally 
uttering  a  melancholy — 

"  O  signore,  ma  perche  ?  " 

"Signore  Baron/'  said  I,  when  I  had  done 
my  sketch,  "  we  have  no  towns  in  our  country 
so  beautifully  situated  as  Gioiosa !  " 

"  Ma  perche  ?  "  quoth  he. 

I  walked  a  little  way,  and  paused  to  observe 
the  bee-eaters,*  which  were  flitting  through 
the  air  above  me,  and  under  the  spreading  oak 
branches. 


*  Merops  Apiaster. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  131 

"  Per  1'amor  del  Cielo,  cosa  guardate  ?  Cosa 
mai  osservate  ?  "  *  said  the  Baron. 

"  I  am  looking  at  those  beautiful  blue  birds." 

"  Perche  ?  perche  ?  perche  ?  " 

"  Because  they  are  so  very  pretty,  and 
because  we  have  none  like  them  in  England.1' 

"  Ma  perche  ?  yerche  9  " 

It  was  evident  that  do  or  say  what  I  would, 
some  mystery  was  connected  with  each  action 
and  word ;  so  that,  in  spite  of  the  whimsical 
absurdity  of  these  eternal  what  fors  and  whys, 
it  was  painful  to  see  that,  although  our  good 
little  host  strove  to  give  scope  to  his  hospitable 
nature,  our  stay  caused  more  anxiety  than 
pleasure.  Besides,  his  whole  demeanour  so 
strongly  reminded  one  of  Croaker — "Do  you 
foresee  anything,  child  ?  You  look  as  if  you 
did.  I  think  if  anything  was  to  be  foreseen,  I 
have  as  sharp  a  look  out  as  another/' — that  it 
was  no  easy  task  to  preserve  a  proper  degree 
of  gravity. 

His  curiosity,  however,  was  to  be  tried  still 


*  For  the  love  of  Heaven,  what  are  you  looking  at  ?     What 
do  you  perceive  ? 


K2 


132  JOURNALS  OF 

further;  for,  having  heard  that  Gioiosa  was 
famous  for  the  manufacture  of  sugarplums  or 
confetti,  we  had  resolved  to  take  some  hence  to 
Gerace,  to  give  to  little  Cicillo  and  Maria 
Scaglione ;  but  when  we  asked  where  confetti 
could  be  purchased,  the  poor  Baron  became 
half  breathless  with  astonishment  and  suspense, 
and  could  only  utter,  from  time  to  time,  "Non 
e  possibile !  Non  e  possibile  !  O  gran  Cielo ! 
Confetti  ?  confetti  ?  Perche  confetti  ?  Non  e 
possibile."  *  We  proved,  however,  that  sugar- 
plums we  were  determined  to  have,  and  forth- 
with got  the  direction  to  a  confectioner's, 
whither  we  went  and  bought  an  immense 
quantity,  the  mystified  Baron  following  us  to 
the  shop  and  back,  saying  continually  "  Perche, 
perche,  confetti !  O  Cielo  !  perche  ?  "  We  then 
made  all  ready  to  start  with  the  faithful  Ciccio, 
and,  not  unwillingly,  took  leave  of  the  Palazzo 
Kivettini,  the  anxious  Baron  thrusting  his  head 
from  a  window,  and  calling  out,  "  Ma  fermatevi, 
perche  ?  Perche  andatevi  ?  Statevi  a  pranzo, 


*  It  is   not  possible !   it  is  not  possible !    0   great  Heaven ! 
Sugarplums  ?     Why  sugarplums,  &c. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  133 

perche  no  7  Perche  ucelli  ?  Perche  disegni  ? 
Per  die  confetti  ?  Perche,  perche,  perche, 
perche?"*  till  the  last  "perche"  was  lost 
in  distance  as  we  passed  once  more  round  the 
rock,  and  crossed  the  river  Komano. 

Long  did  we  indulge  in  merriment  at  the 
perturbation  our  visit  had  occasioned  to  our 
host,  whom  we  shall  long  remember  as  "  Baron 
Wherefore."  Nevertheless,  a  certainty  impresses 
me  that  so  much  timidity  is  occasioned  by  some 
hidden  event  or  expectation. 

Merrily  we  went  through  the  long  garden 
lanes  which  stretch  away  seaward  from  Gioiosa, 
over  a  rich  tract  of  country  most  luxuriant  in 
vegetables  and  fruit.  Soon  we  left  the  coast 
once  more,  and  winding  round  the  uninterest- 
ing olive-clad  hill  of  Siderno,  ascended  to 
Agnano,  a  village  on  the  hill-side  above  the 
river  Novito,  the  valley  of  which  stream  sepa- 
rates it  from  the  rock  of  Gerace.  From  Agnano 
the  eye  looks  into  the  very  heart  of  the  ravine 
of  the  Novito  ;  and  high  above  it  on  the  west 


*    But  stop — why    do   you  go  ?    stay  to   dinner ;    why  not  ? 
why  birds  ?  why  drawings  ?  why  sugarplums,  &c. 


134  JOURNALS  OF 

below  stupendous  cliffs,  stands  Cdnalo,  a  village 
at  the  entrance  of  the  Passo  del  Mercante,  a 
wild  route  leading  across  the  mountains  to  the 
western  side  of  Calabria. 

To  Canalo  we  were  bound ;  it  had  been 
described  to  us  by  our  friends  in  Gerace  as 
"  Un  luogo  tutto  orrido,  ed  al  modo  vostro 
pittoresco  ;"*  and  although  Grotteria  and 
Mammola  were  named  in  the  same  category, 
we  could  not  devote  time  to  all  three. 

We  rested  an  hour  at  Agnano,  with  Don 
Nicola  Speziati,  to  whom  we  had  a  letter ;  but 
although  there  were  mines  of  iron  or  copper  in 
the  neighbourhood  which  we  ought  to  have 
gone  to  see  under  Don  Nic6la's  guidance — he 
being  the  agent  for  the  works — yet  we  neglected 
to  do  so,  preferring  the  search  after  landscapes 
of  Canalo  to  exploring  scenes  of  utility  made 
illustrious  by  the  recent  visit  of  King  Ferdinand 
and  his  Queen.  All  the  Court  had  arrived  in 
the  preceding  autumn  on  the  coast  in  a  steamer, 
and  came  hither  from  the  Marina  of  Siderno 


*    A    place    altogether    horrible ;    and,    after    your    fashion, 
picturesque. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  135 

on  a  vast  crowd  of  donkeys,  collected  by  the 
peasantry  for  the  occasion.  "  Maesta,"  said 
the  owner  of  the  ass  on  which  the  royal 
traveller  rode,  "  no  one  else  can  ever  ride  on 
this  donkey  :  it  shall  have  a  bit  of  ground  and 
a  stable  to  itself  for  the  rest  of  its  honourable 
life.  I  wish,  nevertheless,  Maesta,  that  I  had 
another;  for  though  the  honour  is  great,  yet 
I  have  no  other  mode  of  getting  my  liveli- 
hood." The  King,  say  the  villagers  hereabouts, 
gave  the  acute  countryman  all  the  dollars  he 
had  about  him,  and  settled  a  small  pension  on 
him  besides  for  life. 

The  view  of  C&nalo  from  the  ravine  of  the 
Novito  is  extremely  grand,  and  increased  in 
majestic  wonder  as  we  descended  to  the  stream 
through  fine  hanging  woods.  Having  crossed 
the  wide  torrent-bed — an  impracticable  feat  in 
winter — we  gradually  rose  into  a  world  of  stern 
rocks — a  wilderness  of  terror,  such  as  it  is  not 
easy  to  describe  or  imagine.  The  village  itself 
is  crushed  and  squeezed  into  a  nest  of  crags 
immediately  below  the  vast  precipices  which 
close  round  the  Passo  del  Mercante,  and  when 


136  JOURNALS  OF 

on  one  side  you  gaze  at  this  barrier  of  stone, 
and  then,  turning  round,  perceive  the  distant 
sea  and  undulating  lines  of  hill,  no  contrast  can 
be  more  striking.  At  the  summit  of  Canalo 
stands  a  large  building,  the  Palazzo  of  Don 
Giovanni  Kosa,  the  chief  proprietor  of  the 
place,  an  extremely  old  man,  whose  manners 
were  most  simple  and  kind.  "  My  grand- 
children," said  he,  "  you  are  welcome  to  Canalo, 
and  all  I  can  do  for  you  will  be  too  little  to 
show  you  my  goodwill ; "  and  herewith  he  led 
us  to  the  cleanest  of  rooms,  which  were  to  be 
ours  during  our  stay,  and  apologised  for  any 
"  mancanza  "*  we  might  find.  "  You  must 
excuse  bad  fare  to-day,  but  I  will  get  you  better 
to-morrow,"  quoth  Don  Giovanni  Kosa.  The 
remainder  of  the  afternoon  we  employed  in 
wandering  about  the  town  and  its  most  extraor- 
dinary environs,  where  masses  of  Titan  rock 
threaten  to  crush  the  atoms  of  life  that  nestle 
beneath  them.  I  have  never  seen  such 
wondrous  bits  of  rock  scenery.  Meanwhile, 

*  Deficiency. 


,       A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  137 

old  careful  Ciccio  never  lost  sight  of  us;  he 
was  always  silent,  contenting  himself  by  follow- 
ing our  footsteps  as  attendant  and  guard,  lest 
excess  of  enthusiasm  might  hurry  us  over  one 
of  the  fearful  precipices  of  Canalo. 

August  20. — Every  spot  around  this  place 
possesses  the  very  greatest  interest,  and  is  full 
of  the  most  magnificent  foreground  studies. 
All  the  morning  we  drew  on  the  hill-sides, 
between  the  town  and  Agnano ;  and  very 
delightful  were  those  morning  hours,  passed 
among  the  ever-changing  incidents  of  moun- 
tain scenery — the  goats  and  cattle  among  the 
tall  oaks,  the  blue  woody  hills  beyond.  At 
dinner-time,  good  old  Don  Giovanni  Rosa 
amused  and  delighted  us  by  his  lively  sim- 
plicity and  good  breeding.  He  had  only  once 
in  his  long  life  (he  was  eighty-two)  been  as  far 
as  Gerace,  but  never  beyond.  "  Why  should  I 
go  ?  "  said  he  ;  "  if,  when  I  die,  as  I  shall  ere 
long,  I  find  Paradise  like  Canalo,  I  shall  be  well 
pleased.  To  me  *  Canalo  mio'  has  always  seemed 
like  Paradise  —  sempre  mi  sembra  Paradiso, 


138  JOURNALS  OF 

niente  mi  manca."  *  Considering  that  the  good 
old  man's  Paradise  is  cut  off  by  heavy  snow 
four  months  in  the  year  from  any  external 
communication  with  the  country  round,  and 
that  it  is  altogether  (however  attractive  to 
artists)  about  as  little  a  convenient  place  as 
may  well  be  imagined — the  contented  mind  of 
Don  Giovanni  was  equally  novel  and  estimable. 
The  only  member  of  our  host's  family  now 
living  is  a  grandson,  who  was  one  of  our  party, 
a  silent  youth,  who  seemed  never  to  do  or  say 
anything  at  any  time.  Our  meals  were  re- 
markable, inasmuch  as  Paradiso  cookery 
appeared  to  delight  in  singular  experiments 
and  materials.  At  one  time  a  dish  was  ex- 
hibited full  of  roasted  squirrels,  adorned  by 
funghi  of  wonderful  shapes  and  colours  ;  at 
another,  there  were  relays  of  most  surprising 
birds  :  among  which  my  former  ornithological 
studies  caused  me  to  recognise  a  few  corvine 
mandibles,  whose  appearance  was  not  alto- 


*  My   Canalo  always   seems  Paradise  to  me,  I  am  in   waut 
of  nothing. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  139 

gether  in  strict  accordance  with  the  culinary 
arrangements  of  polite  society. 

Over  all  the  doors  which  connected  the  suite 
of  apartments  we  lived  in,  were  rude  paintings 
of  various  places,  by  a  native  artist,  with  their 
names  placed  below  each.  There  were  Naples 
and  Rome,  Vesuvius  and  Etna,  London,  Paris, 
Constantinople,  and  Saint  Helena ;  but  as  most 
of  these  views  contained  three  similar  fuzzy 
trees,  a  lighthouse,  and  a  sheet  of  water,  or 
some  such  equally  generic  form  of  landscape, 
we  were  constrained  to  look  on  names  below  as 
more  a  matter  of  form  than  use. 

The  peasantry  of  C4nalo  were  perfectly  quiet 
and  well-behaved,  and  in  nowise  persecuted  us 
in  our  drawing  excursions.  Only  a  poor  harm- 
less idiot  followed  us  wherever  we  went,  sitting 
below  the  rock  or  path  we  took  for  our  station, 
and  saying,  without  intermission,  "O  Inglesini! 

dateci  un  granicello wh ew  ! "  *  the 

which  sentence  and  whistle  accompaniment  he 
repeated  all  day  long.  Stern,  awful  scenes  of 


0,  little  Englishmen,  give  me  a  farthing ! 


140"  JOURNALS  OF 

C&nalo  !  Far,  far  above,  along  the  pass  to  the 
western  coast,  you  could  discover  diminutive 
figures  threading  the  winding  line  among  those 
fearful  crags  and  fragments !  or  deep  in  the 
ravine,  where  torrents  falling  over  perpen- 
dicular rocks  echoed  and  foamed  around,  might 
be  perceived  parties  of  the  women  of  Canalo 
spreading  out  linen  to  dry,  themselves  like 
specks  on  the  face  of  some  enormous  mass  of 
stone ;  or  groups  of  goats,  clustered  on  some 
bright  pinnacle,  and  sparkling  in  the  yellow 
sunlight.  Canalo  and  its  rocks  are  worth  a 
long  journey  to  behold. 

August  21. — After  dinner  at  noon,  we  made 
our  last  drawings  in  this  singular  place,  and 
bade  adieu  to  the  Casa  Kosa,  with  its  clean, 
airy,  neat  rooms,  its  painted  doors,  its  gardens, 
vines,  and  bee-hives,  and  its  agreeable,  kind, 
and  untiringly  merry  master,  old  Don  Giovanni 
Rosa.  The  pleasant  and  simple  hospitality  of 
Canalo  had  once  more  restored  us  to  our 
former  admiration  of  Calabrian  life  and  its 
accompaniments,  which  the  little  casualties 


Plate  10. 


PASS  ;  A  N  AL  C 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  141 

of  Gioiosa  and  Castel  Vetere  had  begun  to 
diminish. 

Instead  of  returning  to  Agnano,  we  kept  a 
downward  route  in  the  channel  of  the  Novito. 
Throughout  this  valley  there  are  interesting 
scenes  of  cultivation  ;  the  patch  of  gran  turco 
or  Indian  corn,  the  shelving  terraces  of  olives, 
and  the  cottages  here  and  there,  covered  with 
luxuriant  vine.  Once  opposite  Gerace,  we 
crossed  the  river,  and  gradually  ascended  to 
the  town,  which,  with  its  crumbling  white  rock, 
*is  very  grand  and  simple  in  form  from  the 
northward  approach. 

On  arriving  at  the  Palazzo  Scaglione  all  the 
family  were  delighted  to  welcome  us  back, 
including  little  Cicillo  and  his  sister,  to  whom 
the  sugarplums  were  a  source  of  high  edifica- 
tion ;  and  it  was  great  sport  for  us  to  tell  them 
of  all  our  adventures  since  we  had  left  them, 
save  that  we  did  not  dilate  on  the  facetia? 
of  the  Baron  Eivettini.  All  Gerace  was  in 
a  fever  of  preparation  for  a  great  Festa,  to 
take  place  on  the  following  day  ;  and  in  the 
evening  P and  I,  with  Padre  Abbenate  and 


142  JOURNALS  OF 

Don  Gaetano  Scaglione,  inspected  the  site  of 
the  entertainment,  which  was  arranged  at  the 
west  end  of  the  rock,  on  the  platform  by  the 
ruined  castle.  Here  were  Zampognari  and 
booths,  and  dancing  and  illuminations,  all  like 
the  days  and  doings  of  Tagliacozzo  in  the  fete 
of  1843,*  but  on  a  smaller  and  more  rustic 
scale.  The  Sottintendente,  Don  Antonio 
Buonafede,  was  presiding  at  the  preliminary 
festivities.  There  was  also,  as  in  the  Abruzzo, 
a  temporary  chapel  erected  in  the  open  air, 
highly  ornamented,  and  decked  with  figures 
of  saints,  &c. ;  but  the  usual  accompaniments 
of  dancing  were  expected  to  be  rather  a  failure, 
as  the  Bishop  of  Gerace  had  published  an  edict 
prohibiting  the  practice  of  that  festive  amuse- 
ment by  any  of  the  fairer  sex  whatever,  so  that 
poor  Terpsichore  was  to  be  represented  only 
by  the  male  gender. 

August  %%.  —  We   passed   all   the   morning, 
being  left  to  our  own   devices   by    the   good 


See  "  Illustrated  Excursion  in  Italy,"  Me  Lean. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  143 

people  of  our  host's  family,  in  a  quiet  shade  on 
the  great  rocks  east  of  Gerace. 

Parties  from  all  sides  of  the  country  were 
winding  up  the  sides  of  the  ravine  to  the  festa ; 
but  there  was  little  or  no  costume,  the  black 
skirt,  worn  mantilla- wise  after  the  fashion  of 
the  Civita-Castellanese,  being  the  only  pecu- 
liarity of  dress  in  Gerace. 

In  the  late  afternoon  we  all  repaired  to  the 
walls  of  the  town  to  gaze  at  the  procession  of 
the  saint's  image,  followed  by  the  inmates  of 
every  one  of  the  monasteries,  and  by  all  the 
ecclesiastics  of  the  place.  On  the  rocky  plat- 
form, far  below  Gerace,  yet  elevated  high  above 
the  maritime  plain,  are  several  convents,  and 
far,  far  over  the  terraces  of  crags,  among  which 
they  are  built,  the  long  line  of  the  procession 
crept  slowly,  with  attendant  bands  of  music 
and  firing  of  cannon — a  curious  scene,  and  not 
easy  to  pourtray.  Hence,  as  evening  was 
closing  and  the  last  golden  streams  of  sunset 
had  ceased  to  gild  the  merry  scene,  we  came  to 
the  castle,  where  hundreds  of  peasants  were 
dancing  to  the  music  of  the  Zampognari ; 


144  JOURNALS  OF 

black-hooded  women  ranged  in  tiers  on  the 
rock- terraces,  sate  like  dark  statues  against  the 
amber  western  sky ;  the  gloomy  and  massive 
Norman  ruins  frowned  over  the  misty  gulf 
beneath  with  gloomier  grandeur ;  the  full  moon 
rose  high  and  formed  a  picturesque  contrast 
with  the  festa  lights,  which  sparkled  on  the 
dark  background  of  the  pure  heaven ;  and  all 
combined  to  create  one  of  those  scenes  which 
must  ever  live  in  the  memory,  and  can  only  be 
formed  in  imagination,  because  neither  painting 
nor  description  can  do  them  justice. 

After  supper  all  the  Scaglione  family  wished 
us  a  hearty  farewell — and  may  all  good  betide 
them  !  as  kind  a  set  of  folk  as  stranger  or  way- 
farer has  met  anywhere  at  any  time.  The  days 
we  passed  with  them  will  always  be  recollected 
with  feelings  of  kindliness  for  their  hearty 
welcome  and  friendly  hospitality.  Separated 
as  Gerace  is,  though  the  chief  town  of  a  district, 
from  the  more  civilised  parts  of  Italy,  its 
inhabitants  marry  chiefly  among  families  in  the 
immediate  neighbourhood,  and  very  rarely  out 
of  the  province.  Among  the  richer  classes  a 


A  LANDSCAPE    PAINTER.  145 

few  years  of  youth  are  passed  away  at  Naples, 
where  the  sons  attend  schools  and  colleges,  and 
the  daughters  are  educated  in  nunneries ;  but 
after  their  return  to  their  rocky  fortress  city, 
they  seldom  quit  its  precincts ;  and  the  changes 
of  seasons,  as  they  busy  themselves  with  the 
agricultural  produce  of  their  sea-shore  plains, 
and  inland  river  vales,  or  the  little  politics  of  so 
narrow  a  space,  alone  vary  the  monotony  or 
calm  of  Calabrian  existence  in  these  days,  when 
mediaeval  party  wars  and  the  romance  of 
brigandage  are  alike  extinct. 


146  JOURNALS  OF 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

We  leave  the  Casa  Scaglione,  and  the  east  side  of  Calabria  Ulteriore  Prima. 
— Ascend  the  central  ridge  of  mountains. — Come  in  sight  of  the  Western 
sea. — Descent  to  the  immense  plains  of  Gioia,  Terranova,  &c. — Complete 
change  in  the  character  of  the  scenery. — Dreadful  earthquake  of  1783. — 
Descent  to  Castelnuovo. — Reception  of  Don  Vincenzo  Tito. — Character  of 
the  environs  of  Castelnuovo. — Olive-woods. — Plans  for  to-morrow. — Vast 
olive-grounds.  —  Town  of  San  Giorgio. — Costume  of  its  female  inha- 
bitants.— Polistena. — Visit  to  the  house  of  Morani  the  painter. — Portraits 
of  Sir  Walter  Scott  and  of  Pio  Nono. — Hospitality  of  Don  Vincenzo 
Tito. — Departure  from  Castelnuovo. — Road  through  the  olive-woods. — 
Radicena. — The  destroyed  town  of  Terranova. — Immense  olive-plains  from 
the  mountains  to  the  sea-shore. — We  reach  Oppido  late,  and  find  no 
Mends  there. — A  disagreeable  night's  shelter. 

August  23. — The  domestics,  as  usual,  could 
not  be  persuaded  to  accept  anything  on  our 
leaving  the  Casa  Scaglione,  which  we  quitted 
an  hour  before  sunrise.  At  the  early  period  of 
our  departure,  Gerace  was  as  yet  undisturbed 
and  still,  and  our  regrets  at  leaving  it  were  only 
broken  by  an  unwonted  torrent  of  loquacity  on 
the  part  of  Ciccio,  and  the  burthen  of  which 
seemed  a  song  of  praise  in  honour  of  the 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  147 

hospitalities  and  of  the  festa  of  the  city,  and 
some  strong  comparisons  in  disfavour  of  Gioiosa 
— Dighi,  doghi,  da.  We  were  soon  ascending 
the  central  ridge  of  the  mountains  towards 
the  western  districts  of  Southern  Calabria. 
The  two  coasts  are  here  united  by  the  "  Passo 
del  Mercante,"  and  by  the  tremendous  pass 
above  Canalo.  Addio  Gerace !  with  Kocella 
and  Siderno,  Ardore,  Bovalino,  and  all  our  old 
friends.  The  rock  and  Norman  castle  were 
long  in  sight  ere  woody  hills  and  chestnut- 
clothed  dells  surrounded  us  on  all  sides,  and 
shut  out  the  eastern  sea. 

Our  route  to  the  west  side  of  Italy  was  for 
a  long  while  by  a  steep  ascent :  at  its  summit 
there  is  a  broad  green  plain  in  the  midst  of 
beech-woods, — a  calm  inner  hill-scene,  where 
were  cattle  and  shepherds;  as  on  the  higher 
parts  of  Monte  Gennaro,  near  Rome,  or  many 
an  Abruzzo  altitude,  we  had  hoped  to  have 
reached  a  spot  whence  both  seas  might  be 
visible,  but  the  east  side  was  soon  hidden  by 
the  highest  peaks  of  Montalto,  the  loftiest 
point  of  the  Aspromonte  range,  below  whose 


L   2 


148  JOURNALS  OF 

woody  crown  lay  the  dark  vale  of  Polsi,  and  the 
Hermit  home,  so  cut  off  from  all  sympathies 
with  the  outer  world.  At  length,  the  morning 
breeze  and  the  fresh  fern  beneath  our  feet 
having  made  our  walk  truly  pleasant,  we  came 
in  sight  of  the  Gulf  of  Gioia,  and  the  scene 
changed  to  one  of  beautiful  forest-groups  of 
foliage,  through  which  sparkled  the  soft  western 
sea;  descending  through  which  we  soon  came 
to  the  wide  tract  of  cultivated  ground  stretching 
from  Nicotera  to  the  hill  country  around  Palmi 
and  Bagnara.  The  heat  became  oppressive 
from  the  sultry  scirocco,  as  we  wound  down- 
ward towards  a  most  extensive  and  wondrous 
plain  of  olive-grounds  —  a  filmy  blue  foliage 
occupying  the  whole  wide  level.  We  had 
come  into  a  new  world ;  no  more  gray  and 
white  rocks,  but  strange  cones  and  points,  and 
Vesuvian  furrows,  and  volcanic  smoothnesses ; 
green  tumuli  and  slopes  covered  with  short 
brushwood,  and  everything  from  hill  to  sea 
suggesting  something  subterranean,  not  quite 
as  it  should  be. 

The  mind  instantly  reverted  to  the  fatal  days 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  149 

of  February,  1783,  when  one  of  the  most 
terrible  earthquakes  on  record  utterly  over- 
whelmed this  beautiful  tract  of  country,  and 
when  all  this  fair  western  coast  of  Calabria 
became  one  great  sepulchre.  The  following 
graphic  account  of  that  event  is  extracted  from 
the  Hon.  Keppel  Craven's  "Tour  through 
Naples/'  pp.  274—278  :— 

"On  the  5th  of  February,  1783,  a  day 
indelibly  stamped  upon  the  recollection  of 
every  older  native  of  this  plain,  all  the  towns 
and  villages  situated  within  its  circuit  were 
overthrown  by  the  terrific  shock,  which  extended 
far  into  Upper  Calabria  on  one  side,  and 
reached  to  Sicily  on  the  other.  *  *  *  *  At 
Castelnuovo  every  edifice  was  cast  to  the  earth. 
*  *  *  *  At  Terranova  one  straight  street, 
containing  700  inhabitants,  remains  in  the 
midst  of  ruins,  which  are  those  of  a  town  of 
13,000  souls.  *  *  *  *  Three  particular  days, 
the  5th  and  7th  of  February,  and  the  28th  of 
March,  of  the  year  1783,  are  recorded  as  the 
periods  of  the  most  severe  efforts  of  the  con- 
vulsion :  but  six  successive  weeks  from  the  first 


150  JOURNALS  OF 

of  these  dates  would  perhaps  be  more  correctly 
assigned  to  the  continued  internal  fever,  marked 
during  that  period  by  not  less  than  a  thousand 
distinct  shocks:  these  were  neither  periodical, 
nor  attended  by  any  particular  symptoms  in 
the  state  of  the  temperature.  The  summer  of 
the  preceding  year  had  been  remarkably  hot, 
and  followed  by  violent  and  continued  rains 
till  the  month  of  January.  The  winter  was 
rather  more  severe  than  usual,  as  may  be 
inferred  by  the  frost  on  the  night  of  the  5th 
and  6th  of  February.  It  has  been  observed, 
that  this  month  and  the  following  have  in 
these  regions  been  marked  by  the  recurrence  of 
four  several  earthquakes  of  more  than  ordinary 
violence. 

"A  thick  fog  succeeded  the  spring,  and 
seemed  suspended  over  all  Calabria  for  some 
months,  obscuring  its  shores  from  navigators, 
and  only  indicating  their  proximity  by  its 
existence,  so  unusual  in  these  latitudes.  It  is 
difficult  to  imagine  a  more  extraordinary 
picture  than  the  appearance  of  this  portion  of 
Italy,  during  the  first  few  months  which 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  151 

followed  this  awful  visitation,  by  which  an 
extent  of  territory  exceeding  140  miles  was 
more  or  less  laid  waste,  and  which  can  only  be 
assimilated  to  the  dissolution  of  the  human 
energies  and  frame,  under  the  activity  of  the 
operation  of  a  violent  poison.  Here  the  finest 
works  of  nature,  and  the  improvement  they 
had  received  from  the  industry  of  man,  were 
swept  away  by  the  same  terrible  agency  which 
hurled  mountains  from  their  bases,  and  checked 
rivers  in  their  speed.  The  convulsion  extended 
from  sea  to  sea,  and  the  wreck  throughout  was 
universal.  The  wretched  survivors  fled  from 
the  few  buildings  which  might  have  afforded 
shelter,  while  they  only  threatened  destruction ; 
and  either  wandered  round  the  ruins  which 
had  overwhelmed  the  bodies  of  their  friends 
and  relations,  or,  mutilated  and  disabled,  lay  in 
hopeless  apathy  among  their  vineyards  and 
fields,  now  affording  neither  fruit  nor  vegeta- 
tion. These,  as  well  as  the  necessaries  of  life, 
which  the  fertility  of  soil  and  benignity  of 
climate  render  so  abundant  in  these  provinces, 
were  involved  in  the  general  destruction  ;  mills 


152  JOURNALS  OF 

and  magazines  were  annihilated  :  the  wine  and 
oil  which  could  be  saved  had  suffered  such 
singular  and  offensive  alterations  as  to  render 
them  useless ;  and  even  the  water  was  not 
drinkable.  All  domestic  animals  seemed  struck 
with  an  instinct  ,of  terror,  which  suspended 
their  faculties ;  while  even  the  wilder  species 
were  deprived  of  their  native  shyness  and 
ferocity.  The  stillness  of  the  air  was  remark- 
able, and  contributed  to  render  more  appalling 
the  deep-seated  thunder  which  rumbled  in  the 
recesses  of  the  earth,  and  every  fresh  throe  was 
responded  to  by  the  apprehensive  lamentations 
of  the  human,  or  the  howls  and  screams  of  the 
brute  creation. 

"An  epidemical  disorder,  produced  by  the 
stagnation  of  the  water,  the  want  or  bad  quality 
of  food,  and  the  exposure  to  night  air,  filled  the 
measure  of  misery  up  to  the  very  brim,  and  left 
the  unfortunate  victims  of  such  accumulated 
calamities,  no  hope  but  that  of  a  speedy 
termination  of  their  woes  in  the  apprehended 
dissolution  of  the  world  itself,  which  they 
looked  upon  as  awfully  impending/' 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  153 

Far  below  us  was  Castelnuovo,  one  of  the 
towns  which  have  arisen  from  the  scattered  rem- 
nant of  those  ruined  by  that  fatal  period  of 
devastation  and  depopulation  so  well  described 
above,  when  the  whole  of  the  western  side  of 
Calabria  was  so  fearfully  afflicted.  Standing  on 
an  elevated  site  above  the  plain,  this  modern 
and  unpicturesque  successor  to  the  former 
city  exhibits  long  streets  flanked  by  low  one- 
storied  houses,  with  bright  red-tiled  roofs,  and 
in  no  part  of  its  composition  does  it  offer  any 
loophole  for  admiration,  or  capability  of  artistic 
picturesqueness.  We  at  length  arrived  at  it 
after  a  long  descent  from  the  hills,  and  soon 
found  the  house  of  Don  Vincenzo  Tito,  to 
whom  our  letter  was  addressed.  Don  Vin- 
cenzo, who  seemed  a  wealthy  proprietor,  with 
a  dwelling  full  of  conveniences,  seemed  to 
hesitate  as  to  his  reception  of  us ;  but  after  a 
long  scrutiny,  and  many  interrogations,  he 
apparently  decided  in  our  favour,  and,  showing 
us  some  good  rooms,  ordered  a  dinner  for  us 
anew,  his  own  being  finished.  But  the  manner 
of  our  host  was  abrupt,  restless,  and  uneasy ; 


154  JOURNALS  OF 

and  his  frequent  questions,  as  to  whether  we 
had  heard  anything  from  Keggio,  &c.  &c.,  gave 
me  a  stronger  suspicion  than  ever  that  some 
political  movement  was  about  to  take  place. 
Although  long  accustomed  to  hear  that  some 
change  of  affairs  was  anticipated  in  the  kingdom 
of  Naples,  and  equally  in  the  habit  of  studiously 
remaining  as  far  as  I  could  in  ignorance  of  all 
political  acts  or  expressions,  I  half  concluded 
that  now,  as  often  before,  the  suspicious  reserve 
of  Don  Vincenzo,  and  possibly  that  of  Baron 
Rivettini  also,  proceeded  from  some  false 
rumour  afloat.  Nevertheless,  I  confess  that 
more  than  one  trifling  occurrence  in  the  last 
two  days  had  increased  my  feeling  that 
"something  is  about  to  happen." 

Be  this  as  it  might  or  not,  the  afternoon 
passed  in  wandering  around  Castelnuovo  to 
obtain  some  characteristic  views  of  its  position, 
and  of  the  great  plain  it  stands  on.  This  is  not 
easy ;  studies  of  tall  graceful  olives,  and  Claude- 
like  richness  of  distance,  are  innumerable,  but 
the  choice  among  such  scenes  is  difficult.  I 
sate  me  down  by  the  side  of  a  broad  torrent- 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  155 

bed,  and  drew  one  of  many  landscapes ;  all 
perfectly  pastoral,  calm,  and  elegant,  and 
essentially  different  in  their  outline  and 
expression  to  the  scenes  of  Eastern  Calabria. 

Before  supper  we  were  penning  out  our 
drawings  in  Don  Vincenzo's  room,  and  we 
seemed  to  puzzle  him  much  by  our  professional 
labours,  and  obstinate  ignorance,  real  or 
assumed,  of  political  events.  We  have  adopted 
this  quiet  mode  of  passing  the  evening  hours  of 
late,  as  a  passive  refuge  from  the  persecution  of 
continual  interrogations ;  for  the  interest  our 
sketches  awaken  in  the  families  where  we  may 
chance  to  be,  fully  occupies  their  attention. 

We  shall  devote  to-morrow  morning  to  a  visit 
to  San  Giorgio,  which,  by  a  description  of  its 
castle,  seems  worthy  of  a  walk  ;  and  we  think 
of  making  a  chance  dash  at  Polistena,  one  of 
the  numerous  villages  dotted  over  the  great 
plain  of  cultivation,  and  to  me  interesting,  as 
being  the  native  place  of  one  of  the  best 
Neapolitan  painters  —  Morani  —  whom,  years 
ago,  I  had  been  acquainted  with  in  Kome. 


156  JOURNALS  OF 

August  24 — By  long  lanes,  through  the  im- 
mensely extensive  olive-grounds,  and  by  descents 
into  earthquake-marked  ravines,  —  by  crossing 
torrent-beds,  and  walking  in  irrigated  gardens, 
we  came  in  three  hours  to  the  foot  of  the 
hill  of  San  Giorgio,  which  is  an  isolated  ridge, 
running  out  from  the  central  range  of  hills,  and 
crowned  most  magnificently  with  a  town  and 
castle.  Among  the  numerous  grand  positions 
of  towns  in  this  varied  land,  San  Giorgio  may 
bear  an  eminent  place.  Thick  foliage  clothes 
the  steep  sides  of  its  pyramidal  hill,  and  its 
houses  are  crowded  together  on  plateaux  of  rock, 
or  are  piled  up  into  spires  with  a  beauty  and 
abundant  variety  striking  even  in  Calabria.  As 
you  rise  up  to  its  many  entrance-paths,  the 
broad  blue  plains  of  Gioia  and  the  glittering  sea 
are  peculiarly  lovely.  The  costume  of  the 
women  is  here  perhaps  the  best  we  have  yet 
seen  in  Calabria,  and  the  wearers  certainly  the 
handsomest ;  but,  excepting  the  interesting 
groups  of  figures,  the  interior  of  the  town  of  San 
Giorgio  had  but  little  to  repay  a  visit.  We 
lingered  awhile  in  the  Piazza,  wandered  through 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  157 

« 

two  or  three  of  its  streets,  and  soon  decided 
on  bending  our  steps  to  an  onward  route. 
Descending  once  more  by  olive  and  chestnut 
shades  to  the  plain,  we  arrived,  by  ten,  at 
Polistena,  a  large  town,  where  riven  rocks,  a 
broken  bridge,  shattered  walls,  and  desolate 
streets,  bore  witness  to  the  fatal  catastrophe  of 
1783.* 

We  easily  found  the  house  of  Morani's 
family — "  Quel  pittore  famoso,"  f  as  the  town's- 
people  called  him,  and  entering  it,  were 
welcomed  by  his  mother  and  sisters,  who 
seemed  pleased  that  any  stranger  should 
inquire  after  his  dwelling.  "  These,"  said  two 
very  nice  girls,  throwing  open  the  door  of  a 
small  room,  "  are  all  the  works  we  possess  done 
by  our  brother;"  little  supposing  that  to  an 
Englishman  one  of  the  portraits  possessed  the 
highest  possible  interest.  It  was  a  small 
drawing  made  from  Sir  Walter  Scott  during 
his  visit  to  Naples ;  and  though  neither 


Polistena  is  represented  in  Pacichelli's  work  as  a  fine  city, 
t  That  famous  painter. 


158  JOURNALS  OF 

* 

remarkable  for  beauty  of  execution,  nor 
pleasing  as  a  likeness,  it  was  highly  interesting 
as  the  last  record  of  that  great  man  taken 
from  life.  "  Si  dice  questo  qui  essere  uno 
scrittore  famoso,"  *  said  our  two  hostesses. 
There,  too,  was  Pio  Nono,  a  sketch  just  made 
from  nature. 

After  this  visit  to  Polistena,  which  a  short 
sojourn  at  its  principal  cafe  concluded,  we 
returned  to  Castelnuovo  by  half-past  twelve, 
the  tall,  thin  olive-trees  casting  a  grey  veil  of 
filmy  shade  over  our  path  all  the  way  thither. 
"Tirate,  tirate,  mangiate  sempre,"f  said  old 
Don  Vincenzo  Tito,  at  our  hospitable  meal ; 
but  on  my  asking  for  a  letter  of  introduction 
to  Palmi,  he  drew  back,  and  abruptly  declined, 
"  La  c'e  locanda,"  J  said  he,  which  refusal,  so 
different  to  the  way  in  which  the  Abruzzesi 
used  to  say — "  Go  to  our  cousin  this,  or  uncle 
that,  but  not  to  a  locanda ;"  or,  "  Che  disgrazia, 
andare  in  una  locanda !  Non  ci  saranno  de' 


*  They  say  that  this  was  a  famous  author. 
t  Work  away — eat  always. 
£  There  is  an  inn  there. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  159 

parent!  nostri   in  quel  paese  forse?"*    rather 
revived  my  suspicions. 

At  nineteen  o'clock  we  left  Castelnuovo,  with 
the  intention  of  sleeping  at  Oppido,  a  town  also 
on  the  plain,  and  the  native  place  of  Donna 
Rosina  Scaglione's  family.  A  delightful  road 
through  never-ending  olives,  with  wondrous 
glimpses  of  a  perfect  sea  of  foliage,  down  to  the 
Gulf  of  Gioia,  brought  us  in  two  hours  to 
Radicena ;  everybody  we  met  offering  us  grapes, 
peaches,  and  pears,  with  the  good-natured  pro- 
fusion usual  among  these  people.  You  see 
little  of  the  towns  in  this  great  plain  until  you 
arrive  at  them :  they  are  composed  mostly  of 
low  and  scattered  houses,  placed  on  eminences 
in  the  heart  of  deep  ravines  or  hollows — like 
San  Vittorino,  Pratica,  Gallicano  or  Galera,  in 
the  Campagna  di  Roma.  Few  buildings  of 
more  than  a  single  story  in  height  having  been 
raised  since  1783  —  and  these  are  well-nigh 
hidden  by  cultivation;  but  albeit  there  is 
little  strikingly  or  individually  picturesque 


What !  go  to  an  inn  ?    Are  there  then  none  of  our  relations 
in  that  town  ? 


160  JOURNALS  OF 

to  be  found,  the  whole  aspect  of  the  country, 
which  slopes  gradually  to  the  sea,  is  one  of  rich, 
though  monotonous  beauty.  At  twenty-two 
o'clock,  after  passing  many  immense  ravines  and 
undulating  earthquake- traces,  where  fern,  and 
all  kinds  of  vegetation  grow  most  luxuriantly, 
we  ascended  to  Terranova,  once  the  largest  town 
of  this  district,  but  utterly  destroyed  by  the 
fearful  event  of  1783.  The  old  city  is  altogether 
overwhelmed  and  buried  in  chasms,  and  below 
crags  and  dells,  and  its  successor  is  a  single 
straggling  street  of  lowly  dwellings  of  most 
melancholy  appearance.  All  the  surface  of  the 
neighbourhood  seems  changed  and  destroyed. 
But  there  were  yet  above  three  hours'  walk  to 
Oppido,*  so  we  still  went  on  over  that  wondrous 
plain,  with  peeps  of  waves  of  foliage — now  like 
a  sea  of  bronze  in  the  setting  sun,  which  gilded 
this  extraordinary  olive-garden.  Then  rose 
the  full  round  moon,  and  all  the  scene  became 


*  Oppido  is  represented  as  a  large  walled  city  in  Pacichelli's 
work  ;  and  is  spoken  of  as  a  bishopric,  and  a  large  and  important 
place  by  Marafioti. 

The  latter  author  describes  Terranova  as  the  greatest  and 
most  flourishing  city  of  all  that  plain. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  161 

one  of  gray  filmy  light  and  shade,  the  long 
stems  of  the  olive  making  a  net- work  of  shadow 
on  the  deep  dusty  roads.  At  Avemaria,  we 
passed  another  village  (Mesignade)  and  later 
yet,  Trisilico — hamlets  faintly  seen  among  the 
tremulous  moonlit  olives.  We  were  well  tired 
by  the  time  we  reached  Oppido,  which  had  the 
appearance  of  a  large  and  tolerably  well-built 
town ;  nor  were  we  sorry  to  stand  at  the  door 
of  the  house  where  we  hoped  to  be  entertained, 
but  alas !  Don  Pasquale  Zerbi,  its  owner,  was 
away,  and  all  his  palazzo  shut  up  for  repairs ! 
Our  only  hope  and  help,  therefore,  was  in  a 
most  wretched  locanda — a  very  horrid  den  :  at 
its  door  we  sat,  and  prolonged  our  supper  of 
eggs  till  late  :  but  the  numbers  of  formidable 
vermin  were  so  great  and  distressing  in  the 
sleeping  apartments,  that  we  could  not  con- 
template the  animated  beds  without  a  shudder ; 
whereon  we  sat  up  and  waited  till  daybreak,  as 
best  we  might. 


162  JOURNALS  OF 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Olive  woods  on  the  way  to  Gioia. — Fiumara,  or  River  Marro. — Burning  heat. 
— Rice-grounds. — Melon-gardens  and  elevated  look-out  houses. — Malaria, 
— King-fishers. — Wearisome  walk. — Arrival  at  Gioia. — Its  character  for 
very  bad  air  and  deadly  fevers. — We  set  off  towards  Palmi. — High-road 
travelling  in  Calabria. — Approach  to  the  city  of  Palmi. — View  of  the 
Lipari  Isles. — The  angry  landlady  and  the  good  inn. — Breakfast. — Beau- 
tiful situation  of  Palmi. — We  send  Ciccio  to  Bagnara  by  the  road,  and 
go  ourselves  by  sea. — Fine  coast  scenery — Beautiful  position  of  Bagnara. 
— Carriage-road  to  Scilla. — Its  position. — Its  rocks  and  castle. — Opinion 
of  Calabrians  of  our  drawing. — Boat  to  the  rock  of  Scilla. — Squabble 
with  the  innkeeper. — We  leave  the  town  :  halt  at  Villa  San  Giovanni. — 
Retrospective  glance  on  our  thirty  days'  tour,  and  plans  for  the  future. 
— We  reach  Reggio  once  more. — Consigliere  da  Nava. 

August  25. — Once  more  on  the  road — hoping 
to  repose  to-night  at  Palmi !  and  the  infallible 
Ciccio,  never  yet  put  out  by  changes  or  chances, 
advises  us  to  go  hence  directly  to  Gioia,  on  the 
sea-shore,  and  from  that  place  to  Palmi,  by  the 
carriage-road,  instead  of  lengthening  the  journey 
by  passing  through  Seminara.  So,  from  Oppido 
we  walked  on,  always  downward  toward  the  sea, 
and  ever  through  interminable  olive-woods — 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  163 

high,  gray,  filmy,  feathery  olives,  with  twisted 
mossy  trunks.  But  the  pleasant  freshness  of 
early  morn  soon  ceased  ;  and  when  we  left  the 
last  flock  of  goats  below  the  last  great  oak-tree  on 
the  red  clay  banks  of  a  huge  white  watercourse, 
we  had  no  prospect  but  that  of  burning  heat, 
ever  increasing  through  the  shadeless  journey 
to  Gioia.  Gioia,  forsooth  !  Noia  it  should  be 
called ;  for  the  whole  of  the  lower  part  of  its 
great  plain  is  celebrated  for  the  most  deadly 
malaria ;  so  that  although  the  Scala,  or  port  of 
Gioia,  is  the  centre  of  business  for  all  the  produce 
— oil  and  olives — of  the  whole  of  this  wide  and 
fertile  tract,  yet,  after  early  May,  it  is  not  habit- 
able, and  in  July  or  August  to  sleep  there  is 
almost  with  the  certain  consequence  of  fever. 

Lower  down,  towards  the  gulf,  our  route  in 
the  fiumara  of  the  river  Marro  became  disa- 
greeable to  the  greatest  degree — there  were  not 
even  oleanders  to  vary  its  monotony  ;  extensive 
rice-grounds,  irrigated  and  irritating,  were 
stretched  on  either  side,  and  to  these  succeeded 
immense  fields  of  melons,  placed  among  which 
were  many  lofty  stands  here  and  there,  made  of 


M   2 


164  JOURNALS  OF 

boughs,  and  roofed  with  dry  foliage,  in  which 
aerial  boxes  dwelled  the  melon-growers,  enjoy- 
ing a  bird's-eye  view  of  their  property.  This 
mode  of  protecting  vineyards  and  other  produce 
is  frequent  also  throughout  Sicily,  and  its  details 
always  abound  in  picturesque  characteristics ; 
— the  bronzed  faces  of  two  or  three  children 
projecting  from  their  airy  home — the  scattered 
clothes  or  household  utensils  below — the  clus- 
tering goats  beneath  the  shade  of  the  lofty 
chamber — or  a  thousand  other  accidents,  all 
conspire  to  form  pictures.  The  heat  of  the 
day  grew  most  intense,  and  the  passage  through 
stagnant  sheets  of  water  or  mud,  and  over  dry, 
burning,  white  stones,  was  most  weary.  Now 
and  then  we  saw  large  herds  of  black  swine, 
of  that  race  whose  proportions  are  so  highly 
esteemed  —  wallowing  in  the  dull  pools  of 
the  river,  or  tended  by  half-naked  children  on 
the  borders  of  the  rice-grounds,  but  unless  by 
these  encounters,  or  by  the  glittering  flight  of 
a  bright  kingfisher,  our  walk  was  unvaried 
by  any  incident.  We  passed  and  repassed 
the  stream,  till  we  were  fairly  disgusted ;  a 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  165 

thick  heavy  atmosphere,  a  sentiment  of  solid 
disease  and  heat,  seemed  to  brood  over  all 
things,  and  we  were  extremely  glad  of  even  the 
little  shade  afforded  us  by  the  shelter  of  one  of 
the  melon-growers'  towers,  a  two-storied  leafy 
hut,  round  whose  base  melons  were  piled  in 
prodigious  quantities.  Here  we  reposed,  if 
that  might  be  called  repose  which  consisted  of 
sitting  on  a  heap  of  Indian  corn  leaves,  in  the 
very  small  space  to  which  the  sun's  rays  did 
not  penetrate,  and  in  disputing  with  hungry 
pigs  the  right  to  lunch  on  one  of  their  master's 
melloni  d'  acqua.  At  length,  on  resuming  our 
walk,  little  undulating  heights  covered  with 
bosky  oak  and  thick  underwood,  betokened  that 
we  were  leaving  this  unpropitious  region,  and 
approaching  the  vicinity  of  the  high  road  from 
Naples  to  Eeggio ;  and,  crossing  this,  we  were 
soon  within  the  limits  of  pestiferous  Gioia,*  a 
mere  village,  consisting  of  some  large  ware- 
houses, and  a  huge  osteria,  which  stands  close 
to  the  sea-shore. 


Gioia  is  described  by  Alberti  as  possessing  a  plain  most 
abundant  and  fruitful  in  character.  Site  of  Metaurus  (Pacichelli, 
Cramer,  &c.)  The  river  Metaurus  is  the  modern  Marro. 


166  JOURNALS  OF 

In  this  public  resort,  a  tenement  containing 
two  huge  rooms,  mostly  filled  with  the  oily,  but 
by  no  means  odoriferous,  produce  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood, we  sought  food  and  rest,  though  our 
prospect  of  the  latter  was  small ;  for  the  wary 
Ciccio  said,  ever  and  anon,  "  Se  dormite,  siete 
morti,  dighi  doghi  da  ! "  *  and  if  we  ever  closed 
our  eyes  for  a  moment,  all  the  people  of  the 
osteria  shrieked  out  with  one  voice,  "0  santo 
cielo !  svegliate  vi !  svegliate  vi !  "-)-  Gioia  is, 
indeed,  one  of  the  most  mournful  of  places ; 
for,  although  the  trade  carried  on  from  it  in  oil 
is  very  considerable,  and  numerous  workmen 
are  transporting  barrels,  &c.,  on  every  side, 
these  are  all  people  of  the  adjacent  city  of 
Palmi,  who  come  hither  at  morn  and  return 
home  at  night.  There  is  no  drinkable  water 
in  the  place ;  and  the  few  poor  wretches 
who  are  left  in  charge  of  the  warehouses  are 
melancholy  and  horrible  objects — malaria-fever 
being  written  on  every  line  of  their  face  and 
form.  Here  were  on  every  side  the  emaciated 


If  you  sleep,  you  are  dead  men  ! 
t  0  heavens !  wake  up  ! 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  167 

limbs,  the  skin  contracted  closely  to  the  bones 
of  the  face,  the  yellow  complexion,  the  swollen 
stomach,  the  harsh  and  grating  voice — all  uner- 
ring signs  of  the  nature  of  the  air  in  such 
localities,  and  too  easily  recognised  by  long 
sojourners  in  the  marshes  or  Campagna  of  the 
Eoman  States. 

Hot  as  was  the  afternoon,  we  considered  that 
any  extremity  of  discomfort  might  be  a  relief 
to  that  we  were  suffering  ;  wherefore,  with  the 
fear  of  fever  before  our  eyes,  we  preferred  to  set 
off  as  early  as  we  could  along  the  burning  high 
road  towards  Palmi.  How  undeniable  is  the 
simplicity  of  those  who  think  they  have  "  done  " 
Calabria,  by  travelling  in  a  carriage  from  Naples 
to  Keggio!  All  the  beautiful  incidents  of 
pastoral  or  mountain  life,  all  the  romance 
of  a  wandering  artist's  existence,  is  carefully 
banished  from  your  high-road  tourist's  journey ; 
and  the  best  he  can  boast  of  is  an  extended 
view  from  some  elevated  point  of  road.  We 
looked  back  with  fond  regret  to  the  moun- 
tains of  Aspromonte,  or  to  the  shady  paths  in 
the  groves  of  the  upper  plain  of  Gioia,  and 


168  JOURNALS  OF 

voted    all    highways    eminent    nuisances    and 
vulgarities. 

Leaving  a  road  to  Seminara  on  the  right,  we 
toiled  up  the  hill  of  Palmi,  and  long  before 
arriving  there,  the  burning  sun  and  white  dusty 
"  via  carrozzabile  "  had  thoroughly  wearied  us. 
Dreary  walls  by  the  road-side,  enclosing  gardens 
of  villa  or  casino,  foretold  our  near  approach 
to  the  city  ;  and  these,  in  the  absence  of  shade, 
were  our  only  consolation,  except  that  in  one 
open  warehouse  we  were  treated  to  a  draught 
of  refreshing  water.     Palmi  is  one  of  the  three 
sottintendenze  of  the  province,  and  is  placed 
on  the  high  cliffs  of  its  western  coast,  imme- 
diately opposite  the  Lipari  Isles,  which,  in  shape 
somewhat    like    a  row  of  inverted   cups  and 
saucers,    here    adorn   the   horizon.     Suburban 
residences  surround  the  city  to  a  considerable 
extent,  but  the  views  from  it  are  rather  remark- 
able for  the  great  distance  they  embrace,  than 
for  possessing  any  first-class  landscape  qualities. 
Eastward,  high  cliffs  overhang  the  town  ;  north- 
ward, the  endless  plain  of  Gioia  stretches  far 
away ;     and    southward,    Scilla    and    part    of 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  169 

Mongibello  occupy  the  picture,  with  the  blue 
sea,  Stromboli  and  its  satellites,  to  the  west. 
Palmi  bears  in  its  first  aspect  the  character  of 
a  neat,  clean,  and  bustling  place — indeed,  we 
find  we  are  at  once  and  plainly  come  to  the 
end  of  Calabrian  romance  and  interest,  and  had 
we  not  been  heartily  wearied  by  our  walk  we 
might  probably  have  regretted  that  we  had  not 
chosen  the  road  hither  by  Seminara,  where  at 
least  there  were  woods  which  in  former  days 
were  among  the  most  celebrated  in  the  pro- 
vince as  the  haunt  of  robbers. 

We  went  to  a  locanda  which  had  been  named 
to  us  by  some  one  on  the  road,  but  in  going 
thither  old  Ciccio  twice  shook  his  head,  and 
said  "Non  credo* — dighi  d6ghi  da,"  where- 
from  we  did  not  augur  any  great  success  in  our 
search.  When  we  arrived  at  the  bottom  of  the 
scala  or  staircase,  all  the  upper  part  of  it  was 
filled  up  by  the  most  Brobdignagian  of  living 
landladies :  moreover,  this  enormous  woman 
was  peculiarly  hideous,  and  clad  in  the  slightest 
and  most  extraordinary  of  simple  costumes: 

*  I  doubt. 


170  JOURNALS  OF 

true,  the  thermometer  was  at  the  highest,  and 
the  lady  might  be  suffering  from  the  great  heat ; 
but  the  apparition  of  her  dishabille  and  globe  - 
like  form  was  so  remarkable,  that  we  paused 
at  the  threshold  of  so  formidable  a  hostess — the 
rather  that  she  had  evidently  been  sacrificing 
earnestly  to  Bacchus,  and  was  as  unsteady  on 
her  feet  as  clamorous  with  her  tongue.  "  Let 
us  try  some  other  locanda,"  said  we  to  each 
other,  and  were  turning  away,  when  the  monster 
landlady  shouted  out — "  O,  figli  miei !  venite, 
venite  ;"  *  but  seeing  that  her  invitation  made 
no  impression — "  Andatevi  al  diavolo  nero,"  f 
quoth  she,  accompanying  her  words  with  a  yell, 
and  an  abrupt  ejection  of  a  large  broom  from 
her  right  hand  down  the  staircase,  so  that 
we  fairly  fled  without  further  discussion,  and 
followed  the  silent  but  grinning  Ciccio  to 
another  locanda,  called  "II  Plutino,"  and 
situated  in  the  chief  piazza  of  the  town.  Here 
was  everything  in  very  tolerable  order,  and  no 
southern  Italian  provincial  inn  can  boast  of 


0,  my  sons,  come  in,  come  in. 
t  Go  to  the  black  devil. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  171 

better  accommodations.  In  the  evening  we 
explored  the  town — a  bustling  and  active  scene, 
and  contrasting  strongly  with  many  of  our  late 
homes.  The  solid  wheeled  cars  used  here  to 
transport  goods,  and  drawn  by  cattle,  struck  us 
as  peculiarly  picturesque.  Of  costume  in  dress 
there  is  little  enough. 

August  26. — After  the  unheard-of  Calabrian 
luxury  of  a  real  breakfast,  we  drew  in  the  piazza 
near  the  sea.  At  this  spot  is  one  of  the  views  on 
which  those  few  travellers  who  pass  from  Eeggio 
to  Naples  by  land  are  accustomed  to  bestow 
enthusiastic  praise ;  nor  is  it  unworthy  of  its 
reputation.  A  flat  promenade  or  platform, 
half  surrounded  by  seats,  and  a  balustrade, 
the  resort  of  the  evening  idlers  of  Palmi,  is 
terminated  at  one  end  by  the  clustering  churches 
and  other  buildings  of  the  town  ;  and  at  the 
other,  sinks  down  into  the  blue  sea,  a  perpen- 
dicular cactus-clothed  precipice.  Immediately 
above  the  town  frowns  a  bluff  point,  the  sides 
of  which  also  shelve  downward,  and  are  lost 
in  a  world  of  olive  and  orange  groves,  a  feathery 


172  JOURNALS  OF 

palm-tree  peering  here  and  there  over  the  little 
houses  embosomed  in  the  luxuriant  foliage. 
Beyond  is  spread  a  wide  expanse  of  sea,  with 
the  single  town  of  Scilla  sparkling  at  the  foot 
of  its  cliff,  while  pale  Etna,  with  its  snowy 
point,  closes  this  most  beautiful  prospect. 
Many  are  the  pretty  bits  of  landscape  around 
this  charming  spot — gray  rocks  and  olives  or 
gay  gardens,  with  the  town  of  Bagnara  seen 
afar  between  the  graceful  branches  of  the 
trees. 

At  mid-day,  the  bill  of  the  "  Hotel "  was  by 
no  means  so  unexceptionable  as  the  dinner 
and  style  of  the  accommodation,  and  it  was 
not  without  much  dispute  and  combat  that  we 
succeeded  in  paying  one-seventh  of  the  sum 
asked,  but  which  seventh  was  more  than  a 
sufficient  remuneration. 

Sending  Ciccio  with  the  horse  and  baggage 
by  the  road,  we  descended  to  the  Scala,  and 
embarked  in  a  boat  for  Bagnara,  which,  placed 
on  a  peninsular  rock,  projects  grandly  into  the 
water  beyond  the  Bay  of  Palmi.  The  cliffs  are 
infinitely  majestic  between  the  two  towns— 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  173 

descending  in  sheer  and  perpendicular  crags 
to  the  sea,  and  were  it  not  for  the  absence  of 
buildings,  the  coast  would  have  often  reminded 
me  of  that  of  Amalfi,  or  of  Positano  ;  as  far  as 
the  motion  of  a  boat  in  a  very  rough  swell  would 
allow  me  to  observe  them,  I  enjoyed  these 
scenes  extremely,  but  I  was  glad  to  approach 
the  shore  once  more.  On  the  north  side  of 
the  rock  of  Bagnara  we  landed,  glad  once  again 
to  welcome  our  old  friends  the  aloes  and  cactus, 
which  ever  love  to  adorn  the  rocky  coast  or 
beetling  crag  ;  they  affect  but  little  the  smooth 
plains  of  Gioia,  the  olive-ground  and  orange- 
garden,  nor  does  the  stately  aloe  thrive  among 
the  colder  mountain-heights,  though  the  Indian 
fig  was  common,  albeit  not  in  its  own  full 
luxuriance,  even  on  the  crags  of  Canalo. 
Bagnara  rises  from  the  water's  edge  in  an 
amphitheatre  of  buildings,  crowned  by  a  high 
rock  which  is  joined  to  the  mountain  above  by 
a  castle  and  aqueduct,*  and  is  assuredly  one 
of  the  most  imposing  and  stately  towns  in 


*  At  Bagnara,  Marapoti  speaks   of  having  seen  considerable 
remains  of  ancient  baths. 


174  JOURNALS  OF 

appearance  which  we  have  yet  seen.  The  arches 
of  the  aqueduct  span  a  chasm  in  the  rock- 
peninsula  on  which  it  stands,  and  while  a  castle 
adorns  the  seaward  portion,  the  land-cliffs  are 
studded  with  a  glittering  row  of  buildings, 
many  of  which  nestle  down  to  the  very  shore 
below  the  torn  and  cracked  ravines  into  which 
the  precipices  are  shivered.  A  smooth  half- 
moon  of  sand  extends  at  the  foot  of  the  rocks, 
and  gives  a  calm  and  pleasant  air  to  the  whole 
picture. 

We  wound  up  the  path  which  leads  to  the 
upper  town,  and  passing  through  the  arches 
of  the  viaduct  (for  it  serves  for  a  road  as  well 
as  to  transport  water)  were  even  more  delighted 
by  the  sight  of  the  southern  side  than  we  had 
been  with  the  northern.  Bagnara  from  this 
point  of  view  is  wonderfully  striking,  and  few 
coast  scenes  of  Western  Calabria  can  rival  it. 

It  grew  late  ere  we  finished  sketching,  and 
a  courteous  priest  directed  us  to  a  good  inn, 
where  we  found  Ciccio  arrived  before  us. 

August  9,7. — We  had  no  squabble  with  the 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  175 

host  of  our  very  comfortable  and  quiet  locanda 
here :  few  people  ever  stop  at  Bagnara,  so  the 
world  is  less  acquainted  with  the  modes  of 
high-road  depredation.  There  is  a  good  car- 
riage route  all  along  the  coast,  which  decided 
us  on  sending  Dighi-d6ghi-da  to  Scilla,  and  we 
loitered  forward,  making  drawings  as  we  pro- 
ceeded, until  we  reached  that  town  about  noon, 
and  found  (so  much  for  "  roughing  it "  on  this 
side  of  Calabria)  another  very  clean  inn  by  the 
sea-side,  just  beyond  a  most  picturesque  rock 
and  castle. 

Scilla  is  one  of  the  most  striking  bits  of 
coast  scenery,  its  white  buildings  and  massive 
castled  crag  standing  out  in  noble  relief  against 
the  dark  blue  waves — while  the  Lipari  Isles 
and  Stromboli,  with  the  Faro  of  Messina,  form 
a  beautiful  background.  But  beyond  the 
general  appearance  of  the  place,  which  from  all 
points  of  view  is  very  imposing,  there  is  but 
little  to  note  down.  No  hospitalities,  no 
family  incidents,  fill  up  the  wandering  lands- 
cape painter's  journal  when  he  leaves  the  more 
unfrequented  regions  of  mountain  scenery,  for 


176  JOURNALS  OF 

plain  and  civilised  highways  ;  and  although  old 
Alberti  says  that  Scilla  "  hath  a  rock  shaped  like 
a  man,  surrounded  by  caves,  emitting  howls  of 
wolves  and  screams  of  other  beasts/'  we  could 
not  perceive  even  that  degree  of  romance  in 
our  researches.*  Exploring  and  drawing  Scilla 
occupied  the  whole  day ;  but  at  the  close 
of  it,  in  spite  of  the  favourable  appearance  of 
our  locanda,  we  could  get  nothing  to  eat  but 
a  very  antique  fowl,  which  baffled  knives  and 
forks,  and  we  anticipated  from  such  bad  fare, 
and  from  the  landlord's  continual  compliments, 
that  the  charges  would  be  proportionally  heavy. 


August  28. — A  throng  of  numerous  observers 
crowded  round    us  while    drawing  the  castle 


*  On  the  5th  of  February,  1783,  Scilla,  in  common  with  all 
the  other  towns  on  this  coast,  was  nearly  wholly  overthrown  at 
night.  The  aged  Prince  of  Scilla,  with  4000  of  the  inhabitants, 
had  remained  on  the  sands  of  the  little  bay  on  the  south  side  of 
the  promontory  on  which  the  castle  stood,  and  awaited  the  return 
of  daylight  in  terror  and  suspense.  Before  midnight,  a  recurrence 
of  shocks  ensued,  and  vast  portions  of  the  mountains  above  Scilla 
were  thrown  into  the  Straits.  One  huge  wave,  resulting  from 
these  convulsions,  swept  over  the  strand  of  the  bay,  and  engulphed 
in  one  moment  the  whole  4000  human  beings. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  177 

this  morning:  "questi, "  said  an  old  man  as  we 
were  thus  busily  employed,  "  questi  sono  tutti 
persone  scelte  dal  governo  loro  per  raccogliere 
notizie  del  Eegno  nostro,"  * — a  conceit  univer- 
sally ridiculed  by  Englishmen,  but  not  quite 
so  absurd  as  it  may  seem,  if  we  reflect  that 
the  conquest  of  many  countries  by  others  has 
been  preceded  by  individual  observation  and 
research. 

In  the  course  of  the  morning  we  took  a  boat 
to  the  rocks  of  Scilla,  and  very  magnificent  did 
they  appear,  rising  above  the  boiling  current  of 
dark  blue  foamy  water.  But  it  was  too  rough 
for  so  bad  a  sailor  as  I  am  to  allow  of  making 
any  drawings,  so  we  returned  to  our  inn, 
where,  on  our  departure  ere  noon,  a  great 
conflict  was  occasioned  by  the  "  con  to/' — twelve 
ducats  being  demanded  for  what  we  gradually 
reduced  to  two  ere  we  left  Scilla,  and  great 
was  the  outcry  of  feminine  shrieks,  and  mas- 
culine maledezioni,  which  followed  us  long  after 
we  left  the  place. 


*  These  are  all  persons  chosen  by  their  government  to  gather 
notices  of  our  country. 


178  JOURNALS  OF 

As  we  neared  Villa  San  Giovanni  and  were 
opposite  to  the  well-known  coast  of  the  Faro,  we 
seemed,  as  it  were,  at  home,  and  talked  over  our 
thirty  days'  tour  in  Calabria  with  many  plea- 
sant memories,  arranging  also  how  we  should 
execute  the  exploring  of  the  remaining  two 
provinces  ;  one  thing  was  certain  —  Dighi- 
doghi-da  was  such  a  capital  old  fellow,  he 
must  be  our  guide  to  the  end  of  the  journey. 

As  yet  we  seemed  but  to  have  trodden  on 
the  threshold  of  Calabrian  fastnesses ;  the 
narrow  neck  of  land  between  two  seas  of  the 
province  of  Catanzaro,  the  dense  and  fearful 
forests  of  the  Sila,  the  pointed  hats  of  Cosenza, 
and  the  rich  Greek  costumes  of  Calabria 
Citeriore,  were  all  as  yet  unseen,  and  we 
looked  forward  to  our  return  to  the  truly 
wild  and  romantic  with  enthusiasm  and  im- 
patience. 

At  Villa  San  Giovanni,  which  is  the  centre 
of  a  knot  of  scattered  villages  covering  that 
part  of  the  Calabrian  coast  opposite  to  the 
Faro,  we  found  a  good  locanda,  and  halted  for 
midday  rest,  as  well  as  for  maccaroni,  occhiali, 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  179 

which  are  a  very  good  fish,  molignani,  as  good 
a  vegetable,  and  Lipari  wine. 

At  four  we  again  set  out,  through  long  lanes 
between  villas  and  large  silk  factories,  (the 
atmosphere  reminding  us  of  the  silkworm  days 
of  Staiti),  and  a  little  while  after  Ave  Maria, 
by  a  road — now 

"  Silent  in  its  dusty  vines," 

we  reached  Reggio  once  more,  which,  with  its 
lamps  here  and  there,  its  broad  streets,  and  its 
numerous  inhabitants,  seemed  to  us  a  sort  of 
Paris  in  bustle  and  splendour,  after  such  places 
as  Canalo  and  Gerace. 

We  again  settled  ourselves  in  the  Locanda 
Giordano,  and  closed  our  day  by  a  call  on 
Consigliere  da  Nava,  to  thank  him  for  the 
letters  by  which  he  had  so  ably  and  good- 
naturedly  assisted  us  throughout  our  journey. 
Had  we  not  indeed  been  furnished  with  these 
introductions,  much  of  the  interest,  and  nearly 
all  the  comfort,  of  our  tour  would  have  been 
denied  us,  and  the  recollections  of  Southern 
Calabria  would  have  been  far  other  than  those 
we  now  enjoyed. 


N    2 


180  JOURNALS  OF 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Arrangements. — Ciccio  and  his  pay. — Plan  to  see  some  fine  forests  near  Reggio 
to-morrow;  and  to  visit  Pentedatilo  before  starting  for  the  other 
Calabrian  provinces. — Morning  calls  at  Reggio. — Set  out  to  Gallico. — 
Ciccio's  house. — The  village  of  Calanna. — Fine  views  of  the  Straits  of 
Messina,  and  Etna. — We  find  no  fine  trees  on  the  hills  of  Basilico,  and 
return  late  to  Reggio. — We  cross  to  Messina,  and  I  return  to  Reggio 
alone. — I  set  off  by  the  road  to  Melito,  and  reach  that  town  by  Ave- 
Maria. — Wonderful  views  of  the  crags  and  town  of  Pentedatilo. — The 
discomforts  of  the  house  of  Don  P.  Tropsea. — Agitation  and  distress  of 
his  family. — The  supper. — Revelations  of  revolution. — Announcement  of 
disturbances.  — The  supper  party  breaks  up. — The  bed-room. — The 
midnight  adventure. — I  leave  Melito. — Ciccio's  foreboding  silence. — The 
River  Alice. — Amazing  views  of  Pentedatilo — its  ravine  and  rocks— its 
strange  form. — I  "ascend  to  the  town ;  surprise  and  alarm  of  its  inha- 
bitants.—  Proceed  to  Montebello. — Indian  figs. — The  revolution  and 

its  shadows. —  "The  Pentedatilo  Tragedy,"  a  tale  of  horrors Ascent 

to  Motta  S.  Giovanni — and  return  to  Reggio. — Commencement  of  the 
revolutionary  movements  of  1847-8. — Appearance  of  Reggio. — Absurd 
waiter  at  Giordano's  hotel. — Interview  with  Consigliere  da  Nava. — Expla- 
nation of  various  doubts  and  circumstances  throughout  our  tour. — 
Processions  of  the  insurgents,  &c. — An  anxious  morning. — I  escape  from 

Reggio,   and  reach   Messina. — P  and  I   embark  for  Naples  in   a 

Malta  steamer. — Farewell  to  Calabria  Ulteriore  Prima  ! 

August  29. — A  day  of  arrangements  for  past 
and  future.  Ciccio  received  his  thirty-one 
dollars  and  a  half,  with  four  more  as  Buona- 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  181 

mano  ;  *  whereon  the  ancient  guide  burst  into 
tears,  and  said  he  should  have  thought  it  quite 
enough  to  have  worked  for  such  nice  people  as 
we  two  for  his  stipulated  pay  only :  he  more- 
over declared  that  we  appeared  to  him  in  the 
light  of  sons  and  nephews,  and  that  he  would 
live  or  die  for  us,  as,  how,  and  when  we 
pleased.  Dighi-d6ghi-da  was  indeed  a  most 
meritorious  fellow. 

To-morrow,  having  one  spare  day,  we  agree 
to  go  to  Melanicd,  where  there  are  said  to  be 
fine  forests,  and  after  that  the  programme  for 
the  next  five  days  is  as  follows:  we  cross  to 

Messina,  and  while  P remains  there  for 

three  days,  I  intend  to  return  here  and  go  to 
Capo  d'Armi  and  Pentedatilo  ;  after  which  I 
then  rejoin  my  friend  at  Keggio  on  the  4th  of 
September  so  as  to  start  on  the  5th  for 
Monteleone,  commencing  thence  our  giro  in 
Calabria  Ulteriore  II. 

Visits  to  Reggio  acquaintances  occupied 
greater  part  of  this  day :  in  the  evening  we 


Extra  money  given  iu  token  of  satisfactory  service. 


182  JOURNALS  OF 

took  part  in  the  usual  carriage-drive  along  the 
Marina  and  high  street  of  Keggio — a  mode  of 
passing  two  hours,  and  of  seeing  the  neighbours 
or  strangers  as  much  in  use  in  the  capital  of 
Calabria  Ulteriore  II.,  as  in  the  Chiaja  of 
Naples,  the  Corso  of  Rome,  or  Hyde  Park. 

August  30. — We  set  out  for  our  day's  expe- 
dition to  the  hills  of  Basilico  at  early  dawn, 
and  retraced  our  steps  along  the  high  road  to 
Naples,  nearly  as  far  as  Gallico,  a  village  which 
stands  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  and  is 
exquisitely  picturesque,  owing  to  its  wide 
streets  being  entirely  webbed  and  arched  over 
with  a  network  of  pergolate.  Here,  as  it  was 
Ciccio's  native  village,  we  paid  a  visit  to  his 
cottage,  where  his  wife  and  family  gave  us 
heaps  of  fine  figs  and  grapes,  and  did  all  they 
could  to  welcome  us  in  their  way. 

Toiling  up  a  fiumara  we  ascended  hence  to 
Calanna,  a  castellated  village,  placed  in  a  grand 
rocky  pass ;  after  making  a  drawing  of  which, 
we  continued  to  ascend  the  hills — looking  back 
on  ever-widening  views  of  the  Straits  and 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  183 

Etna,  and  forwards  towards  the  heights  of 
Basilico,  on  the  hills  of  Aspromonte.  But  the 
forests  which  all  the  world  of  Reggio  talked 
of  were  little  worth  looking  at ;  those  who  had 
described  them  to  us  had  never  seen  either 
Polsi,  or  Pietrapennata ;  and  we  were  sadly 
disappointed  with  the  result  of  our  exertions. 
At  length  we  reached  some  few  men  who  were 
at  work  at  the  "  Sega,"  or  sawpits,  placed  on 
the  highest  part  of  the  mountain ;  these 
laughed  at  our  questions  about  "large  oak 
trees,"  and  grinned  incredulously  with  odd 
signs  which  we  could  not  make  out.  "  Oak 
trees  are  all  bosh/'  said  they,  "  and  you  know 
that  as  well  as  we ;  but  as  for  the  men  you  seek 
we  assure  you  they  are  not  here :  but  we  do  not 
say  they  are  not  at  Santo  Stefano,  that  village 
you  see  below.  In  vain  we  said  we  sought  no 
persons.  "You  are  wise  to  keep  your  own 
counsel,"  was  the  reply.  So  again  we  saw  there 
was  some  mystery  we  could  not  unravel. 
Therefore,  voting  the  mountain  of  Basilico  an 
imposture,  we  left  it,  and  came  straight  down  to 
Reggio.  Possibly,  after  all,  we  had  not  gone 


184  JOURNALS  OF 

high  enough  up  in  the  hills  to  discover  the 
gigantic  oaks.  We  returned  by  a  different 
route,  and  before  we  reached  Keggio  it 
was  dark. 

August  31. — We  crossed  to  Messina,  paying 
twelve  carlini  for  a  boat,  which  we  took  for 
ourselves.  In  the  fine  old  cathedral,  and  in  the 
exquisite  views  from  the  higher  parts  of  the 
city,  there  is  sufficient  amusement  for  travellers, 
and  we,  besides,  had  colours,  paper,  and 
wandering-artist  conveniences  of  all  kinds  to 
look  after. 

September  1. — For  three  carlini  I  recrossed  the 
Straits  in  one  of  the  public  boats,  leaving  P— 
at  Messina  to  join  me  at  Reggio  on  the  4th.  A 
fair  wind  soon  placed  me  on  the  Calabrian  shore, 
where  I  found  the  faithful  Ciccio  awaiting 
me  with  welcome,  and  a  considerable  piece 
of  eloquence  ending  with  Dighi-doghi-da  as 
usual. 

By  one  o'clock  all  was  in  readiness  for 
starting,  my  passport,  as  well  as  a  letter  from 
Consigliere  da  Nava  to  a  proprietor  in  Melito, 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  135 

where  I  am  to  sleep  to-night  for  the  purpose  of 
visiting  Pentedatilo,  that  strange  rock-town 
which  we  had  seen  from  Bova,  and  which  at  all 
risks  I  had  resolved  to  examine.  So  I  set  off 
in  a  caratella,  for  three  ducats,  all  by  the  dusty 
pergola-covered  high-road  of  July  29 ;  the 
views  of  Etna  increasing  in  magnificence  as  I 
approached  Capo  dell'  Armi,  to  the  extreme 
point  of  which  a  strada  carrozzabile  is  carried, 
and  where  I  found  Ciccio  and  his  horse  already 
arrived.  Leaving  the  carriage  we  then  struck 
inland,  as  the  sun  was  getting  low,  by  mule- 
routes  crossing  the  frequent  fiumaras  here 
joining  the  sea.  On  advancing,  the  views  of 
the  wondrous  crags  of  Pentedatilo  become 
astonishingly  fine  and  wild,  and  as  the 
sun  set  in  crimson  glory,  displayed  a  truly 
magnificent  and  magical  scene  of  romance — the 
vast  mass  of  pinnacled  rock  rearing  itself  alone 
above  its  neighbour  hills,  and  forming  a  land- 
scape which  is  the  beau-ideal  of  the  terrible  in 
Galabrian  scenery.  On  the  sea-shore,  a  few 
miles  below  Pentedatilo,  stands  Melito,  a  large 
town,  the  most  southerly  in  all  Italy,  and  ere  we 


186  JOURNALS  OF 

reached  it,  we  arrived  at  the  house  of  D.  Pietro 
Tropaea,  in  the  outskirts,  whose  residence  is  a 
kind  of  ill-kept  villa  ;  for  albeit  Don  Pietro  gave 
me  a  most  friendly  welcome,  it  is  not  to  be 
disguised  that  his  casino  was  of  the  dirtiest ;  and 
when  I  contemplated  the  ten  dogs  and  a  very 
unpleasant  huge  tame  sheep,  which  animated 
his  rooms,  1  congratulated  myself  that  I  was 
not  to  abide  long  with  them. 

Moreover,  it  appeared  to  me  that  some  evil, 
general  or  particular,  was  brooding  over  the 
household,  which  consisted  of  a  wife,  haggard 
and  dirty  in  appearance,  and  agitated  in  a 
very  painful  degree  ;  an  only  son,  wild  and 
terrified  in  every  look ;  and  a  brother  and 
nephew  from  Montebello,  strange,  gloomy,  and 
mysterious  in  aspect  and  manner.  The  host 
also  apologised  for  being  ill  at  ease  and  unwell. 
The  singular  uneasiness  of  the  whole  party 
increased  presently  at  the  sound  of  two  or 
three  guns  being  fired,  and  Donna  Lucia 
Tropaea,  bursting  into  tears,  left  the  room  with 
all  the  family  but  Don  Pietro,  who  became 
more  and  more  incoherent  and  flurried,  im- 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  187 

parting  the  most  astounding  revelations  relative 
to  his  lady  and  her  situation,  which  he  declared 
made  all  his  family  and  himself  most  afflicted 
and  nervous. 

These  excuses  for  so  remarkable  a  derange- 
ment as  I  observed  in  the  manner  of  all  the 
individuals  of  the  family  did  not  deceive  me, 
and  I  once  more  suspected,  more  strongly  than 
ever,  that  "  something  was  to  be  foreseen." 
This  feeling  was  confirmed  at  supper-time  when 
the  assembled  circle  seemed  to  have  agreed 
among  themselves  that  it  was  impossible  to 
conceal  their  alarm,  and  a  rapid  succession  of 
questions  was  put  to  me  as  to  what  I  knew  of 
political  changes  about  to  take  place  imme- 
diately. "  Had  I  heard  nothing  ?  Nothing  ? 
Not  even  at  Reggio  ?  "  "  Indeed  I  had  not." 
"  Ma  che  !  it  was  folly  to  pretend  ignorance ; 
I  must  be  aware  that  the  country  was  on  the 
very  eve  of  a  general  revolution ! "  It  was 
useless  to  protest,  and  I  perceived  that  a  sullen 
ill-will  was  the  only  feeling  prevalent  towards 
me  from  persons  who  seemed  positive  that  I 
would  give  no  information  on  a  subject  they 


188  JOURNALS  OF 

persisted  in  declaring  I  fully  understood.  So  I 
remained  silent,  when  another  brother  from 
Montebello  was  suddenly  announced,  and  after 
a  few  whispers  a  scene  of  alarm  and  horror 
ensued. 

"  E  giil  principiata  la  revoluzione  ! "  * 
shrieked  aloud  Don  Pietro ;  sobs  and  groans 
and  clamour  followed,  and  the  moaning  hostess, 
after  weeping  frantically,  fell  into  a  violent  fit, 
and  was  carried  out,  the  party  breaking  up  in 
the  most  admired  disorder,  after  a  display,  at 
least  so  it  appeared  to  me,  of  feelings  in  which 
fear  and  dismay  greatly  predominated  over 
hope  or  boldness. 

As  for  me,  revolution  or  no  revolution,  here  I 
am  in  the  toe  of  Italy  all  alone,  and  I  must  find 
my  way  out  of  it  as  best  I  may  ;  so,  wrapping 
myself  in  my  plaid,  and  extinguishing  the  light, 
I  lay  down  in  the  front  room  on  the  bed 
allotted  me,  whose  exterior  was  not  indicative 
of  cleanliness  or  rest. 

Hardly  was  I  forgetting  the  supper  scene  in 


*  The  ^Revolution  has  already  begun. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  189 

sleep,  when  a  singular  noise  awoke  me.  After 
all,  thought  I,  I  am  to  encounter  some  real 
Calabrian  romance,  and  as  I  sate  up  and 
listened  the  mysterious  noise  was  again  re- 
peated. It  proceeded  from  under  my  bed, 
and  resembled  a  hideous  gurgling  sob  four  or 
five  times  reiterated.  Feeling  certain  that  I 
was  not  alone,  I  softly  put  out  my  hand  for  that 
never-to-be-omitted  night  companion  in  travel- 
ling— a  phosphorus  box,  when  before  I  could 
reach  it  my  bed  was  suddenly  lifted  up  by  some 
incomprehensible  agency  below,  and  puffing 
and  sobs,  mingled  with  a  tiny  tinkling  sound, 
accompanied  this  Calabrian  mystery.  There  was 
no  time  to  be  lost,  and  having  persevered  in 
obtaining  a  light  in  spite  of  this  disagreeable 
interruption,  I  jumped  off  the  bed,  and  with  a 
stick  thrust  hastily  and  hardly  below  the  bed, 
to  put  the  intruder,  ghostly  or  bodily,  on  to 

fair  fighting  ground, Baa — aa — a  !— 

Shade  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe  !  it  was  the  large 
dirty  tame  sheep  !  So  I  forthwith  opened  a 
door  into  the  next  room,  and  bolted  out  the 
domestic  tormentor. 


190  JOURNALS  OF 

September  2. — None  of  the  Tropaea  family 
were  moving  when  I  started  at  sunrise.  A 
letter  to  a  proprietor  of  Montebello,  where 
mid-day  must  be  passed,  was  sent  to  me,  with 
apologies  for  the  non-appearance  of  the  house- 
hold. "  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  "  said  I 
to  Ciccio  ;  but  nothing  could  be  extracted  from 
that  Phoenix  of  Muleteers  but  a  clucking  sort 
of  glossal  ejaculation  ;  nevertheless,  he  seemed 
anxious  and  gloomy. 

Off  we  set;  our  route  followed  a  tiresome 
and  tortuous  road  in  the  bed  of  the  Alice,  and 
then  became  a  rugged  path  crossing  to  the 
Fiume  della  Monaca  ere  Pentedatilo  was 
visible  ;  for  this  strange  town  is  so  placed,  that 
although  seen  from  all  the  country  round,  you 
may  pass  close  to  it  without  being  aware  of  its 
proximity.  The  ravine  in  which  the  river 
flows  is  crowded  and  blocked  up  with  crags  to 
the  south  of  the  great  rock  on  which  the  town 
is  built ;  so  that  it  is  necessary  to  cross  to  the 
western  side  of  the  stream,  and  ascend  the 
heights  which  enclose  it  before  finally  re- 
crossing  it,  in  order  to  reach  the  remarkable 


Printed  })J  "HrcllmSBdel  t  Walton 


London  .Rirtar'1  B^TdievU"  Boriington  Sti-ePt.  August  1852. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  191 

crag  itself.  But  having  gained  the  high  ground 
opposite,  the  appearance  of  Pentedatilo  is  per- 
fectly magical,  and  repays  whatever  trouble  the 
effort  to  reach  it  may  so  far  have  cost.  Wild 
spires  of  stone  shoot  up  into  the  air,  barren 
and  clearly  defined,  in  the  form  (as  its  name 
implies)  of  a  gigantic  hand  against  the  sky,  and 
in  the  crevices  and  holes  of  this  fearfully  savage 
pyramid  the  houses  of  Pentedatilo  are  wedged, 
while  darkness  and  terror  brood  over  all  the 
abyss  around  this,  the  strangest  of  human 
abodes.  Again,  a  descent  to  the  river,  and  all 
traces  of  the  place  are  gone ;  and  it  is  not  till 
after  repassing  the  stream,  and  performing  a 
weary  climb  on  the  farther  side,  that  the  stu- 
pendous and  amazing  precipice  is  reached ;  the 
habitations  on  its  surface  now  consist  of  little 
more  than  a  small  village,  though  the  remains 
of  a  large  castle  and  extensive  ruins  of  buildings 
are  marks  of  Pentedatilo  having  once  seen 
better  days. 

I  had  left  Ciccio  and  the  horse  below  at  the 
stream,  and  1  regretted  having  done  so,  when, 
as  I  sate  making  a  drawing  of  the  town,  the 


192  JOURNALS  OF 

whole  population  bristled  on  wall  and  window, 
and  the  few  women  who  passed  me  on  their 
way  to  the  hanging  vineyards,  which  fringe 
the  cliffs  low  down  by  the  edge  of  the  river, 
screamed  aloud  on  seeing  me,  and  rushed  back 
to  their  rocky  fastnesses.  As  it  is  hardly 
possible  to  make  these  people  understand 
ordinary  Italian,  a  stranger  might,  if  alone,  be 
awkwardly  situated  in  the  event  of  any  misun- 
derstanding. Had  the  Pentedatelini  thought 
fit  to  roll  stones  on  the  intruder,  his  fate  must 
have  been  hard ;  but  they  seemed  filled  with 
fear  alone.  I  left  this  wonderful  place  with  no 
little  regret,  and  rejoining  Ciccio,  soon  lost 
sight  of  Pentedatilo,  pursuing  my  way  up  the 
stream,  or  bed,  of  the  Monaca,  which  is  here 
very  narrow  and  winding,  and  so  shut  in 
between  high  cliffs,  that  in  winter- time  the 
torrent  prevents  all  access  from  this  quarter. 
Higher  up  in  the  ravine  stands  the  village  of 
Montebello ;  its  district  is  famous  in  Calabria 
for  the  excellence  of  its  cactus,  or  Indian  fig,  all 
the  rocks  of  the  neighbourhood  being  covered 
with  a  thick  coating  of  that  strange  vegetable. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  193 

The  town  is  situated  high  above  the  river,  on 
a  square  rock,  perpendicular  on  three  sides, 
amid  wide  ruins  of  walls  and  houses,  betokening 
former  times  of  prosperity.  In  the  centre  of 
this  wretched  little  place  is  the  house  of  Don 
Pietro  Amazichi,  who,  though  receiving  me 
with  every  kindness  and  hospitality,  was  as 
much  agitated  as  my  acquaintances  at  Melito. 
It  seems  evident  that  coming  events  are  casting 
rapidly  deepening  shadows,  and  in  vain  again 
do  I  try  to  persuade  my  hosts  that  I  am 
not  in  the  secret.  "  It  is  impossible"  they 
said;  "you  only  left  Keggio  yesterday,  it  is 
true ;  but  it  is  certain  that  the  revolution 
broke  out  last  night,  and  everyone  has  known 
for  days  past  what  would  happen/'  On  which 
there  was  another  scene.  The  lady  of  Monte- 
bello,  less  feeble  than  she  of  Melito,  gave 
way  to  the  deepest  affliction  ;  her  exclamation 
of  "  My  sons !  my  two  sons !  I  have  parted 
from  them  for  ever  in  this  world ! "  I  shall 
not  easily  forget ;  and  the  husband  strove  to 
comfort  her  with  such  deep  feeling,  that  I 
became  truly  grieved  for  these  poor  people, 


194  JOURNALS  OF 

ignorant    though   I    was    actually    of  pending 
circumstances. 

About  two,  Don  Pietro  accompanied  me  to 
the  foot  of  the  rock,  and  for  some  distance  up 
the  dreary  fiumara;  meanwhile  he  illustrated 
the  history  of  Montebello  and  Pentedatilo  by  a 
tale-tragedy  of  the  early  ages  of  these  towns, 
when  their  territories  were  governed  respec- 
tively, the  first  by  a  Baron  and  the  second  by 
a  Marquis. 

For  centuries  the  families  of  these  two  feudal 
possessors  of  the  towns  of  Pentedatilo  and 
Montebello  had  been  deadly  foes,  and  they 
ruled,  or  fought  for,  the  adjoining  country  from 
their  strongholds  in  persevering  enmity.  The 
Baron  of  Montebello,  a  daring  and  ferocious 
youth,  was  left  heir  in  early  life  to  his  ancestral 
estates  and  rights,  and  fell  in  love  with  the 
only  daughter  of  the  Marchese  Pentedatilo; 
but,  although  the  young  lady  had  contrived  to 
acquaint  her  lover  that  her  heart  was  his,  her 
hand  was  steadfastly  denied  him  by  the  Mar- 
chese, whom  the  memory  of  long  injuries  and 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  195 

wars  hardened  in  his  refusal.  Opposition, 
however,  did  but  increase  the  attachment  of 
the  young  lady,  and  she  at  length  consented 
to  leave  her  father's  house  with  her  lover ;  an 
arrangement  being  made  that  on  a  certain 
night  she  should  open  a  door  in  the  otherwise 
impenetrable  rock -fortress  of  Pentedatilo,  and 
admit  young  Montebello  with  a  sufficient  force 
of  his  retainers  to  ensure  the  success  of  her 
elopement. 

The  Baron  accordingly  enters  the  castle, 
but  finding  that  equal  opportunity  is  presented 
him  for  vengeance  on  his  feudal  enemy,  and 
for  possessing  himself  of  the  object  of  his 
attachment,  he  resolves  to  make  the  most  of 
both  ;  he  goes  first  to  the  chamber  of  the 
Marchese  of  Pentedatilo,  and  finds  him  sleeping 
by  the  side  of  the  Marchesa,  with  a  dagger  at 
his  pillow's  head.  Him  he  stabs,  yet  not  so 
fatally  as  to  prevent  his  placing  his  left  hand 
on  the  wound,  and  with  his  right  seizing  his 
stiletto,  and  plunging  it  into  the  heart  of  the 
innocent  Marchesa,  suspecting  her  as  the 
author  of  his  death.  The  Baron  Montebello 

o  2 


196  JOURNALS  OF 

repeating  his  blows,  the  Marchese  falls  forward 
on  the  wall,  and  his  five  blood-stained  fingers 
leave  traces,  still  shown,  on  part  of  the  ruined 
hall,  —  a  horrible  memorial  of  the  crime, 
strangely  coincident  with  that  of  the  form  and 
name  of  the  rock. 

Immediately  on  the  consummation  of  this 
double  tragedy,  the  active  young  Baron  Monte- 
bello  carried  off  the  young  lady,  his  retainers 
having  put  all  the  family  of  the  Marchese  to 
death,  except  one  infant  grandchild,  whom  a 
nurse  saved  by  concealing  him  in  a  crevice  of 
the  rocks  ;  the  castle  was  then  dismantled,  and 
the  lady  became  Baroness  of  Montebello.  But 
she  never  spoke  more ;  the  horror  of  having 
been  indirectly  the  destruction  of  her  whole 
race  occasioned  her  to  become  insane,  and  she 
poisoned  herself  within  a  month  of  her  departure 
from  her  native  town. 

In  process  of  time,  the  child  saved  by  the 
nurse  grew  up,  and  was  introduced  as  a  page 
into  the  Montebello  family,  the  Baron  having 
re-married,  and  being  now  the  undisputed 
possessor  of  both  territories  as  far  as  the  sea ; 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  197 

but,  after  many  years  of  .life,  the  wretched  man 
became  wild  with  remorse  for  his  past  iniquities, 
and  made  over  all  his  possessions  to  the  Church, 
provided  only  no  living  descendant  of  the 
Pentedatili  could  be  found,  a  decent  proviso, 
apparently  made  without  any  risk.  When  lo  ! 
the  nurse  and  a  small  number  of  the  old  Mar- 
chese's  friends  proved,  beyond  any  doubt,  that 
the  page  was  heir  to  the  estates  and  revenge  of 
his  ancestors!  And  here  you  might  suppose 
the  story  ended.  Not  at  all.  The  Baron's 
hatred  returned  on  finding  there  was  really 
something  on  which  to  exercise  it,  and  he 
ordered  the  torture  and  execution  of  young 
Pentedatilo  forthwith.  But  now  the  tables 
were  turned  ;  the  Baron's  long  reign  of  wicked- 
ness lent  weapons  to  his  adversary's  cause,  and, 
in  his  turn,  the  last  scion  of  the  murdered 
Marchese  became  a  tyrant.  Forthwith  the 
whole  family  of  the  Baron  Montebello  were 
destroyed  before  their  parents'  eyes,  and  he 
himself  then  blinded  by  order  of  the  avenger, 
and  chained  for  the  rest  of  his  days  in  the 
very  room  where  he  had  slain  the  grandsire 


198  JOURNALS  OF 

Pentedatilo.  Finally,  as  if  it  were  ordered  that 
the  actors  in  such  a  wholesale  domestic  tragedy 
were  unfit  to  remain  on  earth,  the  castle  of 
Pentedatilo  fell  by  the  shock  of  an  earthquake, 
crushing  together  the  Baron  and  Marchese, 
with  the  nurse,  and  every  other  agent  in  this 
Calabrian  horror ! 

After  we  had  reached  Fossati,  ever  by  the 
tiresome  fiumara — weary  sad  haunts  are  these 
for  man  to  dwell  among  ! — our  route  followed 
the  hill  we  had  descended  on  July  30,  and 
passing  to  the  right  of  Motta  San  Giovanni, 
turned  towards  the  coast  below  San  Nocito,  one 
of  the  most  picturesque  of  ruined  fortresses. 
Hence  the  way  was  long  and  tedious  to  Eeggio, 
the  more  that  I  was  impatient  to  know  what 
was  really  occurring,  since  Ciccio's  philosophy 
was  less  and  less  proof  to  the  task  of  concealing 
his  agitation,  which  for  one  so  usually  tranquil 
was  remarkable. 

At  the  hour  of  one  in  the  night  we  reached 
Reggio,  and  here  the  secret  divulged  itself  at 
once. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  199 

How  strange  was  that  scene  !  All  the  quiet 
town  was  brilliantly  lighted  up,  and  every 
house  illuminated  ;  no  women  or  children  were 
visible,  but  troops  of  men,  by  twenties  and 
thirties,  all  armed,  and  preceded  by  bands  of 
music  and  banners  inscribed,  "  Viva  Pio  IX.," 
or  "  Viva  la  Costituzione,"  were  parading  the 
high  street  from  end  to  end. 

"  Cosa  x'e  stata,*  Ciccio  ?  "  said  I. 

"  O  non  vedete,"  said  the  unhappy  muleteer, 
with  a  suppressed  groan.  "0  non  vedete  ?  e 
una  rivoluzione  !  Dighi,  d6ghi,  d£ !  " 

No  one  took  the  least  notice  of  us  as  we 
passed  along,  and  we  soon  arrived  at  Giordano's 
Hotel.  The  doors  were  barred,  nor  could  I 
readily  gain  admittance ;  at  length  the  waiter 
appeared,  but  he  was  uproariously  drunk. 

"Is  Signor  P arrived  by  the  boat  from 

Messina?"  said  I. 

"  O  che  barca !  0  che  Messina !  O  che  bella 
rivoluzione  !  Ai !  ao  !  Orra  birra  burra — ba ! " 
was  the  reply. 


*  What  has  happened  ? 


200  JOURNALS  OF 

"  Fetch  me  the  keys  of  my  room,"  said  I  ; 
"  I  want  to  get  at  my  roba  " — 

11  O  che  chiavi !  O  che  camera  !  O  che  roba  ! 
ai,  ai ! " 

"  But  where  are  the  keys  ?  "  I  repeated. 

"Non  ci  sono  piii  chiavi,"  screamed  the 
excited  cameriere  ;  "  non  ci  sono  piu  passaporti, 
non  ci  sono  piii  R£ — piii  legge — piii  giudici — 
pill  niente — non  x'e  altro  che  1'amore  la  liberta 
— 1'amicizia,  e  la  costituzione — eccovi  le  chiavi — 
ai !  o-o-o-o-o-orra  birra  ba ! ! "  * 

Without  disputing  the  existence  of  love, 
liberty,  friendship,  or  the  constitution,  it  was 
easy  to  see  that  matters  were  all  out  of  order, 
so,  taking  Ciccio  with  me,  I  went  hastily  through 
the  strangely-altered  streets  to  Cavaliere  da 
Nava's  house.  From  him,  whom  with  his 
family  I  found  in  serious  distress,  I  heard  that 
a  concerted  plot  had  broken  out  on  the  pre- 
ceding day ;  that  all  the  Government  officials 
had  been  seized,  and  the  Government  suspended, 


*  There  are  no  more  keys — there  are  no  more  passports,  no 
more  kings,  no  more  laws,  no  more  judges,  no  more  nothing ! 
Nothing  but  love  and  liberty,  friendship  and  the  constitution ! 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  201 

he  (da  Nava),  the  Intendente,  and  others  being 
all  confined  to  their  houses.  That  the  tele- 
graph and  the  castle  still  held  out,  but  would  be 
attacked  in  a  day  or  two ;  that  the  insurgents, 
consisting  mostly  of  young  men  from  the 
neighbouring  towns  and  villages,  had  already 
marched  into  Reggio,  and  were  hourly  increasing 
in  number ;  that  on  the  opposite  shore,  Messina 
was  also  in  full  revolt;  and  that  the  future 
arrangements  of  the  Government  could  only 
be  known  after  time  had  been  allowed  for 
telegraphic  communication  between  Eeggio 
and  Naples.  The  Government  impiegati  are 
all  naturally  dejected,  as  nothing  of  their  future 
fate  is  known,  except  so  much  as  may  be 
divined  from  the  fact  that  no  one  has  hitherto 
been  maltreated.  Thus,  the  agitation  of  the 
people  at  Montebello  and  Melito ;  the  suspicions 
of  Don  Tito,  and  of  the  woodmen  at  Basilico, 
and  even  those  of  the  fat  Baron  Rivettini,  were 
all  fully  explained  and  justified ;  for  whether 
those  persons  were  for  or  against  Government, 
the  appearance  of  strangers  on  the  very  eve 
of  a  preconcerted  revolt  was  enough  to  make 


202  JOURNALS  OF 

them  ask  questions,  and  put  them  all  in  a 
fuss. 

I  returned  to  the  inn.  As  for  what  I  should 
do,  there  seemed  no  will  of  my  own  in  the 
matter ;  I  might  be  arrested,  or  executed  as 
either  a  rebel  or  a  royalist — as  things  might 
turn  out ;  so  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
wait  patiently. 

All  that  long  night  the  movement  increased : 
large  bodies  from  Santo  Stefano,  and  other  places 
— most  of  them  apparently  young  mountaineers 
— thronged  into  Keggio,  and  paraded  the  streets, 
singing  or  shouting  "Viva  Pio  Nono,"  with 
banners,  guns,  swords,  and  musical  instruments. 

September  3 — No  boat  stirs  from  Messina. 
I  watch  on  the  beach  in  vain.  I  sit  with  Da 
Nava  and  his  perplexed  family.  The  telegraph 
works  away  incessantly  ;  but  there  is  no  attempt 
to  stop  it,  and  no  attack  on  the  castle.  If  there 
is  no  movement  in  the  northern  provinces, 
troops  will  certainly  march  hither,  and,  in  any 
case,  steamers  will  come,  and  this  wretched 
town  will  assuredly  be  bombarded  into  anni- 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  203 

hilation  or  repentance.  On  the  other  hand, 
Messina  will  as  surely  undergo  the  same  fate, 
and  the  more  probably,  inasmuch  as  it  is  of 

more   importance.     Nevertheless,  as  P is 

detained  there,  and  I  cannot  ascertain  what 
extent  of  fighting  therein  prevails  (owing  to  no 
boats  having  put  off  from  the  Messinese  shore), 
it  appears  to  me  better  to  go  over  to  him  if 
possible. 

So,  by  hard  work,  I  persuade  some  very 
reluctant  boatmen  to  take  me :  and  I  quit  the 
Da  Nava  family  with  regret,  for  a  cloud  of 
uncertainty  seems  to  hang  over  all  Southern 
Italy,  and  the  foreshading  gloom  of  it  has 
earliest  reached  this  remotest  place. 

After  intolerable  waiting  for  five  hours  with 
a  boat-load  of  depressed  and  anxious  natives, 
we  were  towed  by  oxen  as  far  as  Villa  San 
Giovanni,  and  thence  (the  sea  was  rough  and 
the  wind  contrary)  came  over  to  a  point  about 
a  mile  from  Messina,  where  we  landed  out  of 
reach  of  the  guns  of  the  fort.  Here  I  was  glad 
at  JVobile's  Hotel  to  rejoin  P ,  whose  sus- 
pense had  been  equal  to  mine.  The  revolt  at 


204  JOURNALS  OF 

Messina  has  occasioned  the  death  of  fourteen 
or  fifteen  men ;  but  the  Government  has  firm 
hold  of  the  citadel.  Distress  and  anxiety, 
stagnation  and  terror,  have  taken  the  place  of 
activity,  prosperity,  security,  and  peace.  A 
steamer  comes  from  Malta  to-morrow,  and  I 
resolve  to  return  to  Naples  thereby ;  for  to 
resume  travelling  under  the  present  circum- 
stances of  Calabria  would  be  absurd — probably 
impossible. 

September  4.  —  Two  war-steamers  are  at 
Keggio,  and  firing  is  heard,  though  the  details 
of  action  are  of  course  unknown  to  us.  The 
poor  town  is  undergoing  evil  I  fear,  nor  will  it 
be  wonderful  that  it  does  so  ;  for  that  400  or 
500  men  should  seize  and  hope  to  hold  perma- 
nently a  distant  part  of  a  large  kingdom,  unless 
assisted  by  a  general  rising,  appears  to  be  the 
extreme  of  folly,  and  can  only,  whatever  the 
cause  of  complaint,  meet  with  ultimate  ill- 
success  and  probably  with  severe  chastisement. 

No  steamer  comes,  and  we  remain  at 
Messina. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  205 

September   5.  —  The    steamer   arrives   from 

Malta,  P and  I  go  on  board,  and  at  six 

in  the  evening  we  sail.  Soon  the  sparkling  line 
of  Reggio  ceases  to  glitter  on  the  purple  waters ; 
soon  we  pass  the  Faro ;  and  the  Rock  of  Scilla, 
the  headland  of  Nic6tera,  and  the  long  point  of 
Palmi  recede  into  faint  distance. 

I  leave  the  shores  of  Calabria  with  a  grating 
feeling  I  cannot  describe.  The  uncertainty  of 
the  fate  of  many  kind  and  agreeable  families — 
Da  Nava,  Scaglione,  Marzano,  &c. — it  is  not 
pleasant  to  reflect  on.  Gloom,  gloom,  over- 
shadows the  memory  of  a  tour  so  agreeably 
begun,  and  which  should  have  extended  yet 
through  two  provinces.  The  bright  morning 
route  of  the  traveller  overcast  with  cloud  and 
storm  before  mid-day. 


M 

o  • 

X 


JOURNALS 


A   LANDSCAPE   PAINTER. 


KINGDOM  OF  NAPLES. 


JOUKNALS 


A   LANDSCAPE    PAINTER. 


KINGDOM  OF  NAPLES. 

PRINCIPATO   CITEKIOBE,    BASILICATA,   TERRA   DI   BARI,    ETC. 
PROVINCES   OF   AVELLINO,    POTENZA,    BARI,    ETC. 

CHAPTEE  XVI. 

Return  to  Calabria  not  advisable. — A  tour  to  Melfi  and  part  of  Apulia  resolved 
on. — We  set  off  to  Avellino. — Travelling  with  the  eyes  open. — Beautiful 
character  of  the  country  round  Avellino. — Convent  of  Monte  Vergine — 
Vineyards  and  villas. — Costume  and  appearance  of  the  women. — Ascent 
of  Monte  Vergine. — Historical  notices  of  the  convent. — Extensive  pros- 
pect from  the  mountain. — Arrangements  for  visiting  Melfi,  &c. — We  leave 
Avellino. — Highroads  and  caratelle. — Uninteresting  drive  to  the  valley 
of  the  Galore,  and  Grotta  Minarda. — Anticipations  of  Apulia. — Attempt 
to  reach  Frigento. — A  guide  hired. — We  leave  Grotta  Minarda. — Unpic- 
turesque  approach  to  the  hill  of  Frigento. — The  lonely  osteria. — Don 
Gennaro  Fiammarossa  and  his  hotel. — We  return  to  the  lonely  osteria, 
and  make  the  best  of  it. — Wheat  beds,  with  onion  curtains. — Departure 
from  Frigento. — Barren  and  dreary  scenery. — The  Lake  of  Mofette ; 
its  appearance  and  qualities. — Dead  birds. — Rocca  San  Felice. — Ascent 
to  St.  Angelo  de'  Lombardi. — No  carriages  nor  carriage -roads. — The  old 
man  and  his  ass. — We  seize  on  a  roast  fowl,  and  make  ourselves  as 
comfortable  as  circumstances  permit. 

September  1 1 . — Days  have  passed  ;  and  our 
decision  about  not  returning  to  Calabria  is  fixed. 


210  JOURNALS  OF 

All  that   part   of  Italy  is  at  present  in   too 
unsettled  a  state  to  admit  of  prosperous  artistic 

tours.     But  as  P has  yet  nearly  a  month 

before  he  is  obliged  to  turn  his  steps  northward, 
we  resolve  to  see  parts  of  Basilica ta,  &c. ;  for  to 
various  towns  in  that  province  I  have  some  good 
introductory  letters  from  one  of  its  greatest 
landed  proprietors,  and  there  is  much  interest 
in  that  part  of  the  Kegno,  particularly  in  the 
country  of  Horace,  and  some  of  the  Norman 
castles  of  Apulia.  We  set  off,  therefore,  by 
railroad  to  Nocera,  and  thence  take  a  caratella 
(price  two  ducats)  to  Avellino,  the  chief  town 
of  Principato  Citeriore.  The  Sanctuary  of 
Monte  Vergine,  close  to  the  city,  is  a  monastery 
I  have  long  wished  to  see. 

All  the  bustle,  so  characteristic  of  the  environs 
of  Naples,  diversifies  our  route ;  but  having 
been  up  very  late  on  the  preceding  night,  we 
both  of  us  fall  fast  asleep  before  we  reach 
San  Severino,  and  never  once  wake — so  much 
for  "  travelling  with  one's  eyes  open  "  —until 
we  are  driving  into  Avellino. 

To  how  few  spots  on  the  map  of  Italy  can 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  211 

one  turn,  and  yet  be  disappointed  in  finding 
beauty  and  interest !  Totally  distinct  in 
character  as  is  this  part  of  the  kingdom  of 
Naples  from  the  stern  scenery  of  Calabria,  it 
yet  abounds  with  exquisite  landscape :  fertile 
vineyards  link  tree  to  tree  with  rich  leafy 
festoons ;  the  hills  clothed  with  olives,  and 
the  higher  mountains  with  chestnut  woods ; 
villas  and  villages  dotted  in  glittering  clusters 
on  every  slope.  Each  part  of  this  varied  king- 
dom has  its  distinct  features  ;  and  here  cheerful 
industry  and  abundance  light  up  all  around. 

Avellino,*  standing  on  the  river  Sabato,  itself 
forms  part  of  several  very  noble  views,  and,  in 
all  of  them,  the  most  remarkable  feature  is  the 
high  mountain,  Monte  Vergine,  which,  thickly 
wooded  to  its  summit,  rears  its  lofty  form  to 
the  west  of  the  city.  High  among  the  clouds 
you  may  see  a  white  spot  nearly  at  its  highest 
peak  :  that  is  the  monastery  of  Monte  Vergine. 


*  Avellino,  the  Abellinum  of  the  Romans,  is  the  chief  town  of 
the  province  of  Principato  Citeriore,  and  is  one  of  the  districts  into 
which  it  is  divided,  the  other  two  being  Ariano,  and  Sant' 
Angelo  de'  Lombardi.  The  town  contains  about  5000  inhabitants, 
and  is  28  miles  from  Naples. 


212  JOURNALS  OF 

Avellino  possesses  a  tolerable  inn.  Here 
be  high-roads  and  rattling  carriages,  shouting 
drivers,  and  crowded  markets,  and  a  dining- 
room  with  a  smart  waiter.  We  are  in  Prin- 
cipato  Citeriore,  and  only  a  few  miles  from 
Parthenope. 

September  12. — A  cloudy  day ;  and  as  the 
ascent  of  the  mountain  is  not  a  trifling  matter, 
we  postpone  it  till  to-morrow,  when  the  weather 
may  permit  a  more  distant  view  from  the  summit. 
From  hour  to  hour  we  wander  in  the  shady  lanes, 
or  among  vineyards.  They  are  all  open,  and 
one  is  never  weary  of  looking  at  the  beautiful 
outline  of  Avellino  and  Monte  Vergine  through 
the  framework  of  hanging  vines.  All  this  part 
of  the  country  has  a  lively  appearance  from 
the  costume  of  the  peasantry,  whose  dresses 
are  mostly  red,  and  peculiar  in  form.  The 
women  arrange  their  hair  beautifully,  and  are 
almost  universally  good-looking,  and  the  very 
picture  of  health  and  neatness. 

September  13.— September  is  but  an  uncertain 
month  for  these  high  mountain  excursions; 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  213 

f 

yet,  though  the  upper  part  of  Monte  Vergine 
is  covered  with  a  dark  curtain  of  cloud,  we  dare 
the  ascent.  There  is  a  carriage-road  from  the 
city  to  the  village  of  Spedaletto,  situated  at  a 
considerable  height  on  the  mountain,  and 
beyond  this,  the  path  to  the  monastery  is  for 
more  than  three  miles  a  very  steep  zig-zag,  in 
overcoming  which  you  are  indulged  with  a  fine 
view  of  Vesuvius  rising  from  its  velvet  plain. 
Noble  groups  of  chestnut-trees  clothe  the  lower 
part  of  the  mountain,  and  above  their  leafy 
heads  is  the  craggy  summit  of  the  hiU  with  the 
picturesque  convent,  which  combine  to  make 
many  a  beautiful  picture. 

This  celebrated  sanctuary,  built  on  the  site 
of  a  temple  of  Cybele,  as  several  inscriptions 
and  remains  attest,  was  founded  about  1100, 
A.D.,  and  on  account  of  its  possessing  a  par- 
ticularly miraculous  image  of  the  Virgin  Mary 
(not  to  speak  of  the  bones  of  Shadrach, 
Meshach,  and  Abednego  !)  its  sanctity  is  great. 
Great  numbers  of  pilgrims*  come  hither  from 
the  surrounding  parts  of  the  country  ;  and  on 


It  is  said  that  four  hundred  pilgrims  died   here  in  1611- 


214  JOURNALS  OF 

the  high  festa  days  of  the  image  there  is 
no  doubt  a  goodly  show  of  costume.  But, 
independent  of  the  attractions  held  out  by  the 
relics,  &c.,  the  Monastery  of  Monte  Vergine  has 
little  in  itself  which  can  be  called  interesting : 
the  great  view  it  enjoys  from  its  isolated  and 
elevated  position  constitutes  (at  least  to  a 
landscape-painter),  its  chief  charm.  Moreover, 
the  cold  was  too  severe  at  the  summit  of  this 
high  mountain  to  tempt  a  lengthened  stay  ;  so 
we  descended  to  Mercugliano,  a  large  village  at 
the  lower  part  of  the  hill,  where  stands  a  great 
monastic  establishment,  connected  with  the 
sanctuary,  and  which  is  the  residence  of  its 
abbot.  The  remainder  of  this  day,  and  all  the 
following, 

September  14.  -  -  Was  passed  in  sketching 
among  the  environs  of  Avellino,  a  place  of 
quiet  walks  and  shady  groves.  How  deep  and 
dark  green  were  the  tufts  of  chestnuts  against 


some  one  of  them  having  profanely  brought  up  some  meat  for 
luncheon.  The  peasants  say  that  eating  meat  near  the  sanctuary 
will  bring  on  a  thunderstorm  and  hurricane  at  any  time. 


STA  MARIA  DI  MONTEVERGTNE. 

fmi'ni    I       .    .-  -••  ;.'f/i  Burlington  Street,  August  1852. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  215 

the  lilac  hills  afar  off !  The  evening  went  in 
disputing  with  vetturini,  and  arranging  to  be 
taken,  as  near  as  possible,  to  Melfi  in  Basilicata, 
which  is  the  main  object  of  our  journey,  though 
we  wish  to  see  the  Mofette,  or  Sulphureous 
Lake,  if  it  can  be  easily  reached.  At  length 
we  agree  ;  for  two  dollars  we  are  to  be  taken  as 
far  as  Grotta  Minarda,  and  thence  pursue  our 
route  as  best  we  may. 

September  15. — After  numberless  irritations 
from  the  lies  and  subterfuges  of  drivers — for 
the  race  of  vetturini  around  Naples  are  odious 
to  deal  with — we  finally  set  off  at  10  A.M. 

The  road  lies  through  cheerful  places  :  gar- 
dens, cottages,  and  numerous  villages  and 
towns  are  always  in  sight ;  but  after  leaving 
Prata  and  Pratola  on  the  left,  and  Montefuscolo 
on  a  high  hill  beyond,  the  country  grew  more 
and  more  uninteresting  as  we  approached  the 
mid  vertebral  line  of  Italian  mountains,  here 
more  broken  and  less  striking  in  appearance 
than  in  any  other  part  of  the  Kegno.  A  tedious 
descent  to  the  valley  of  the  River  Galore,  with 


216  JOURNALS  OF 

some  monotonous  undulations  followed,  till  we 
reached  Grotta  Minarda,  during  our  journey  to 
which  the  outline  of  the  town  of  Ariano  on  the 
east,  and  on  the  west  that  of  Monte  Vergine, 
formed  the  principal,  or  rather  the  only,  features 
of  a  wide  expanse  of  country.  Picturesquely 
speaking  we  were  by  no  means  pleased  with  this 
part  of  his  Neapolitan  Majesty's  dominions  ; 
but  we  trusted  to  find  compensation  for  such 
barrenness  of  interest,  in  Apulian  plains,  Nor- 
man castles,  and  Horatian  localities,  by  and  by 
to  be  visited.  At  a  tavern  below  Grotta 
Minarda  we  dismissed  our  vetturino,  and  dined 
on  the  universal  and  useful  Italian  omelette  and 
maccaroni. 

But  now  came  the  difficulty.  Where  should 
we  go  next  ?  and  how  should  we  get  there  ? 
Melfi  might  be  reached  in  two  whole  days ;  but 
as  we  wished  to  devote  an  hour  or  so  to  the 
"  Mofette,"  *  if  we  could  find  it,  Frigento 
appeared  to  us  as  the  most  fitting  place  to  sleep 
at ;  for  although  it  did  not  seem  clearly  under- 


*  "  Le  Mofette "  is  the  name  by  which  the  lake   or  pool  of 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  217 

stood  whether  the  infernal  basin  was  nearest  to 
Frigento  or  to  Sant'  Angelo  de'  Lombardi,  yet 
the  latter  place  was  too  far  off  to  be  reached 
before  night.  Had  we  been  at  Gioiosa  in 
Calabria,  the  Baron  Kivettini  might  well  have 
said,  "  Perche!  do  you  go  to  such  a  disagree- 
able place  as  the  Mofette? — Perche!" 

Much  search  and  earnest  persuasion  pro- 
duced a  half-witted  old  man  with  a  donkey 
which  might  carry  our  small  quantity  of 
luggage,  and  after  long  hesitation  he  agreed  to 
go  with  us  to  the  Mofette,  the  way  to  which  he 
knew,  though,  he  said,  he  should  not  tempt 
Providence  by  going  very  near  the  spot.  He 
also  held  out  indistinct  views  of  accompanying 
us  all  the  way  to  Melfi  if  he  were  well  paid. 
The  more  enlightened  inhabitants  of  Grotta 
Minarda  also  said  that  we  should  have  no  diffi- 
culty in  finding  a  delightful  home  at  Frigento 
in  the  house  of  Don  Gennaro  Fiammarossa, 
who  they  declared  was  the  wealthiest  and  most 


Amsanctus  is  known;  identified  by  Antiquarians  (see  Craven, 
Swinburne,  &c.)  with  the  description  in  Virgil,  "  Est  locus,  Italiae 
medio,  sub  montibus  altis,"  &c. — Cramer. 


218  JOURNALS  OF 

hospitable  of  living  men — "  E  tutto  denaro,  e 
tuttocuore:  possiede  Frigen to,  possiede  tutto."* 
So  we  set  off,  resolving  to  confide  our  destinies 
to  the  care  of  Don  January  Redflame,  who  is  all 
money  and  all  heart,  possessing  Frigento  in 
particular,  and  everything  else  in  general. 

Frigento  was  immediately  before  our  eyes, 
standing  on  a  very  ugly  clay  hill,  and  although 
the  grandeur  of  shifting  clouds,  storm,  and  a 
rainbow  did  their  best  to  illumine  and  set  off 
the  aspect  of  the  land,  yet  we  were  obliged  to 
confess  that  our  journey  lay  over  a  most  wearily 
monotonous  country.  Nor,  on  arriving  at  the 
foot  of  the  bare  hill  of  Frigento,  had  we  any 
wish  to  make  acquaintance  with  Don  January 
Redflame  for  the  sake  of  his  ^native  place  ;  and 
it  was  not  until  we  had  peeped  into  a  very  un- 
satisfactory osteria  at  the  high  road-side,  that 
we  reluctantly  resolved  to  ascend  the  dismal 
and  ugly  cone  before  us.  At  the  miserable  little 
town  of  Frigento  itself  we  made  one  more  trial, 
but  the  only  taverna  was  so  palpably  disgusting, 


*  He  is  all  money  and  all  heart:  he  possesses  Frigento — he 
possesses  all  things." 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  219 

that  it  was  not  to  be  thought  of  as  a  place  of 
sojourn,  even  by  us,  tried  Calabrian  travellers  ; 
and  thus  we  were  at  length  driven  to  appeal  to 
the  hospitality  of  the  benevolent  Don  Gennaro, 
whose  house  is  the  only  large  one  in  the  town. 
Everything  in  his  mansion  betokened  wealth, 
and  we  contemplated  with  pleasure  the  com- 
fortable hall  with  crockery  and  barrels,  and  all 
kinds  of  neatness  and  luxury ;  and  until  Don 
Gennaro  came,  we  were  pressed  to  take  a  glass 
of  wine  by  the  steward  and  his  very  nice-looking 
wife. 

But  lo !  the  great  January  arrived,  and  all 
our  hopes  were  turned  to  chill  despair !  "  How 
grieved  he  was  not  to  be  able  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  receiving  us,  none  but  he  could 
tell ; " — this  he  said  with  smiles  and  compli- 
ments, yet  so  it  was.  He  was  expecting  an 
aunt,  four  cousins  (anzi,  cinque*),  three  old 
friends,  and  four  priests,  who  were  to  pass 
through  Frigento  on  their  way  to  a  neigh- 
bouring town  ;  they  might  come  and  they 
might  not,  but  he  dared  not  fill  his  house. 

*  Nay,  five. 


220  JOURNALS  OF 

But  what  of  that  ?  There  was  a  capital  inn  at 
Frigento,  one  of  the  very  best  in  Italy ;  he 
would  take  us  there  himself ;  it  was  time  we 
should  be  sheltered  for  the  night.  And  forth- 
with he  led  the  way  out  into  the  street, 
overwhelming  us  with  profuse  expressions  of 
compliment — "  Signori  miei  gentilissimi  e  caris- 
simi,  illustrissimi  padroni  garbati  e  cortesi,— 
amici  affezionatissimi,"  &c.,  till,  to  our  dismay  and 
surprise,  he  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  very  filthy 
osteria  which  we  had  ten  minutes  ago  rejected 
with  abhorrence  as  impracticable  and  disgusting. 
"Viaggiatori  culti,  eccellentissimi  Giovani, 
ecco  qui  1'albergo  ;  qui  troverete  tutto,  tutto, 
tutto,  tutto,  tutto,"  said  our  friend ;  and, 
bowing  and  smiling  to  the  very  last,  he  retreated 
hastily  towards  his  own  house,  leaving  us  very 
distinctly  "sold,"  and  not  a  little  enraged  at 
Don  January  Kedflame's  proficiency  in  the  art 
of  humbug,  though  we  excused  him  for  not 
desiring  to  house  unknown  wanderers  in  these 
days  of  unsettled  events. 


*  Polished  travellers — excellent  young  men,  here  is  the  inn ; 
here  you  will  find  everything — everything. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  221 

We  turned  away  from  the  man  "  all  money 
and  all  heart,"  and  came  indignantly  down  the 
hill  wishing  ourselves  in  Calabria,  and  composing 
our  minds  to  the  necessity  of  passing  the  night 
at  the  one-roomed  osteria  at  the  hill-foot.  Here, 
at  least,  we  found  civility,  though  there  was 
little  but  the  bare  walls  of  the  taverna  to  study : 
a  stove  filled  up  one  side  of  a  little  chamber, 
half  of  which  was  used  as  a  stable ;  yet  when  our 
new  muleteer  had  cooked  us  some  poached  eggs, 
we  made  ourselves  tolerably  comfortable  by  the 
fireside,  and  finally  slept  well  in  a  granary  on 
large  heaps  of  grain,  which  had  the  advantage 
of  cleanliness  as  well  as  novelty  when  considered 
as  beds.  The  furniture  of  our  dormitory  was 
simple  to  the  last  degree :  the  before-named 
wheat-heaps,  long  strings  of  onions  depending 
from  above,  and  numerous  round  boxes  of  eggs 
below. 

September  16. — Leaving  our  wheaten  couch 
ere  sunrise,  we  prepared  to  start  afresh.  Our 
accommodation  cost  us  in  all  two  carlini  each ; 
but  coffee,  alas !  there  was  none.  With  Antonio 


222  JOURNALS  OF 

the  foolish  (who  talked  to  himself  without 
ceasing),  we  followed  a  route  leading  over  most 
forlorn  and  bare  hills,  Frigento  overlooking  all 
from  its  ugly  pinnacle,  and  in  the  far  distance 
loom  the  forms  of  mountains,  which  appear  fine 
in  outline,  but  a  scirocco  haze  makes  them  all 
indistinct  as  to  detail  and  colour.  After 
walking  a  mile  or  two  we  left  the  high  road, 
and  for  another  mile  and  a  half  descended  by 
paths  through  a  wild  country,  ever  becoming 
drearier  and  less  prepossessing,  till  as  we  neared 
a  deep  little  valley,  strong  sulphureous  odours 
warned  us  of  our  approach  to  the  Mofette. 

The  hollow  basin  in  which  lies  this  strange 
and  ugly  vapour  bath  is  fringed  on  one  side 
by  a  wood  of  oaks,  behind  which  the  mountain 
of  Chiusano  forms  a  fine  background :  but  on 
the  northern  approach,  or  that  from  Frigento, 
the  sloping  hill  is  bare,  and  terminates  in  a 
wide  crust  of  sulphureous  mud,  cracked,  dry, 
and  hollow  at  some  little  distance  from  the 
pool,  but  soft,  and  undulating  like  yeast  at  the 
brink  of  the  little  lake  itself.  The  water,  if 
water  it  be,  is  as  black  as  ink,  and  in  appear- 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  223 

ance  thick,  bubbling  and  boiling  up  from  a 
hundred  springs  which  wrinkle  its  disastrous 
looking  surface :  but  when  the  liquid  is  taken 
out  into  any  vessel,  it  is  said — for  we  did  not 
make  the  experiment  —  to  be  perfectly  clear 
and  cold.  Whether  or  not  birds  can  fly  across 
or  over  the  enchanted  pool,  I  cannot  tell,  but 
as  we  found  many  stiff  and  dead  on  its  brink — 
namely,  two  crows,  four  larks,  three  sparrows, 
and  eight  yellowhammers  —  it  is  but  fair  to 
conclude  that  the  noxious  vapours  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  stocking  this  well-filled 
ornithological  necropolis ;  and  as  to  ourselves, 
we  found  that  to  inhale  the  air  within 
two  or  three  feet  of  the  water  was  a  very 
unpleasing  experiment,  resulting  in  a  catching 
or  stupefying  sensation,  which  in  my  own 
case  did  not  entirely  pass  away  for  two  or 
three  days. 

Possibly  the  strength  and  properties  of  this 
curious  volcanic  lake  may  differ  at  various 
seasons  or  states  of  the  atmosphere ;  *  as  for 


*  Swinburne  says — "  The  Mofette  several  times  spouted  as  high 
as  our  heads  ;  a  large  body  of  vapour  was  continually  thrown  out 


224  JOURNALS  OF 

our  guide  he  implored  us  not  to  go  near,  and 
would  not  by  any  means  be  persuaded  to  go 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  "accursed 
eccentricity."* 

After  having  made  a  drawing  of  the  cele- 
brated Mofette  we  called  a  council  as  to  what 
decision  we  should  come  to  concerning  our 
future  route.  The  town  of  Bisaccia  was  fifteen 
miles  distant — hardly  to  be  reached  with  ease 
ere  evening.  That  of  St.  Angelo  de'  Lombardi 
was  but  six  miles  from  us  at  present,  and  we 
settled  to  go  thither,  hoping  to  find  some 
conveyance  thence  to  Melfi.  We  journeyed  on 
over  a  bare  and  hilly  country  by  uninteresting 
paths  along  undulating  clay  slopes  or  cultivated 


with  a  rumbling  noise,  accompanied  by  a  nauseous  smell  and 
danger  of  suffocation."  Craven  supposes  that  changes  take  place 
in  the  action  of  the  lake,  as  he  found  no  smell,  and  heard  no 
noise,  and  saw  nothing.  In  the  pool  of  Amsanctus  he  finds 
no  impediment  to  respiration;  black  clay  is  deposited,  leaving 
the  waters  clear  and  tasteless,  and  icy  cold.  Raven  and  wood- 
pigeon  flew  over  it — worn-out  fable — whole  ground  strewed  with 
dead  butterflies — stopped  his  watch — and  discoloured  all  metal, 
&c.  Mazzella,  however,  speaks  of  "  all  birds  dying  who  fly  over 
the  pool." 

*  "  Cosa  curiosa  maledetta,"  as  he  called  it. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  225 

valleys,  till  we  came  to  a  conclusion  that  the 
province  of  Principato  Citra  is  one  of  the  dullest 
of  the  kingdom  of  Naples.  In  an  hour  or  two 
we  reached  Rocca  San  Felice,  and  passed 
through  it.  Around  this  little  town,  in  itself 
picturesque,  there  seems  to  lie  the  only  pretty 
scenery  we  had  observed  since  we  left  Avellino  ; 
but  a  coming  storm  prevented  our  lingering 
to  sketch  even  this  single  bit  of  character; 
so,  after  a  long  descent  and  ascent,  we  attained 
to  the  town  of  St.  Angelo  de'  Lombardi  just  as 
rain  began  to  fall  heavily.  Our  fate,  so  far  as 
reaching  Melfi,  was  soon  known  ;  there  is  no 
strada  carrozzabile,  and  no  carriages  in  or  from 
St.  Angelo  de'  Lombardi ;  so,  resolving  to  go 
on  to-morrow  towards  the  Norman  city  with 
the  old  man  and  his  ass,  we  discovered  a  tole- 
rable locanda,  and  adapted  ourselves  to  pass 
the  rest  of  the  day  there.  The  hostess  declared 
she  had  no  food  of  any  sort  in  the  house  ;  but 
the  distinct  odour  of  a  roast  fowl  caused  us  to 
pay  but  little  attention  to  her  assertions  :  with 
the  energy  of  hungry  men  we  forced  our  way 
into  the  kitchen,  and  laid  violent  hands  on  the 


226  JOURNALS  OF 

detected  viands,  together  with  some  eggs  and 
alid — all  intended  for  somebody  else.  After 
dinner  and  siesta,  and  when  the  rain  had  ceased, 
we  wandered  forth  in  quest  of  food  for  our 
pencils,  but  found  little.  St.  Angelo  de'  Lom- 
bardi  is  one  of  those  places  (and  in  Italy  there 
are  but  few  such)  having  no  goodly  aspect  or 
form  in  themselves,  and  placed  so  as  to  com- 
mand a  wide  panorama  below,  but  with  no 
foreground,  tree,  or  rock  to  set  off  against  its 
abundant  extent.  And,  unluckily,  where  there 
was  really  an  appearance  of  fine  mountain  lines, 
mist  and  cloud  prevented  it  from  being  seen 
distinctly.  St.  Angelo  de'  Lombardi  is  but  a 
dismal  place ;  the  people  of  the  inn,  however, 
were  obliging,  though  the  "  accommodations  " 
of  the  dormitories  compelled  each  of  us  to  sleep 
in  his  cloak. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  227 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Departure  from  St.  Angelo  de'  Lombardi. — Country  expands  into  wide  grassy 
downs. — Distant  view  of  Monte  Voltore. — Undulating  plains. — Arrival 
at  Bisaccia. — Inhospitable  place. — Difficulty  of  procuring  food. — Guide 
refuses  to  proceed,  and  is  bribed  by  a  dish  of  fish. — We  leave  Bisaccia. 
— Arrive  in  sight  of  the  great  Plains  of  Apulia. — Costume. — Nearer 
view  of  Monte  Voltore. — Reach  Lacedogna. — Vain  endeavour  to  hire  a 
horse. — We  find  a  chance  vetturino. — Monteverde.— Fine  views  of  Monte 
Voltore. — Towns  on  the  mountain :  its  character,  lake,  &c. — Cross  the 
river  Ofanto. — Enter  Basilicata. — Approach  to  Melfi.— Its  castle,  draw- 
bridge, &c.  &c. — Signor  Vittorio  Manassei.— Pleasant  reception. — Magni- 
ficent accommodations. — Comforts  of  Melfi. — Historical  notices  of  the 
city,  &c. — View  from  the  modern  part  of  the  castle. — Picturesqueness 
of  Melfi  and  its  environs  :  agreeable  hours  indoors. — Doria  Gallery. — 
Family  dinner. — The  vineyard  and  the  pergola.— The  old  halL — Buttered 
toast  and  other  Melfi  luxuries. — We  continue  to  stay  at  the  castle. — 
Arrangements  for  visiting  Minervino,  Venosa,  Monte  Voltore,  and  Castel 
del  Lago  Pesole. — Don  Sebastiano  il  Fattore. 

September  17.  —  Glad  we  were,  on  rising 
before  day,  to  find  the  morning  beautifully 
clear,  and  the  foolish  old  man,  our  guide, 
waiting  with  his  ass  below.  There  were  finer 
mountain  views,  too,  now  that  the  clouds  had 
passed  away,  than  we  had  given  St.  Angelo  de' 
Lombardi  credit  for  possessing. 

Q  2 


228  JOURNALS  OF 

For  two  hpurs  our  advance  was  very  agree- 
able ;  we  turned  from  the  hill  on  which  stands 
our  last  night's  home,  and  passing  Guardia 
Lombardi,  another  town,  high  on  a  hill  of  its 
own  (and  whose  unpicturesque  appearance,  we 
agreed  with  old  Pacichelli,  might  fully  merit 
his  condemnation,  "  it  contains  no  object 
worthy  of  any  praise  whatever"),  we  began  to 
cross  monotonous  grassy  downs,  from  each 
undulation  of  which,  when  we  looked  back,  the 
hill  of  Monte  Vergine  was  still  ever  in  sight. 

The  mountains  on  this  part  of  the  eastern 
side  of  Italy  decrease  by  very  slow  gradations 
to  the  flat  country  near  the  shore  ;  and  we 
next  traversed  wide  and  long  meadow  plains, 
enlivened  by  large  droves  of  horses,  and  much 
„  like  parts  of  the  Campagna  around  Rome  ;  but 
there  was  great  want  of  good  form  and  outline, 
and  my  expectations  of  the  Great  Pianura  of 
Apulia  began  to  sink  apace.  And  in  spite  of 
the  appearance  of  Monte  Voltore,  which  now 
began  to  adorn  the  horizon,  and  at  whose  base 
we  ought  to  sleep  to-night  in  the  city  of  Melfi, 
these  undulating  downs,  or  plains,  grew  sadly 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  220 

wearisome,  and  we  were  glad  to  spy  the  far-off 
top  of  a  tower,  which  the  foolish  old  man 
declared  was  the  church  of  Bisaccia.  It  was 
long,  though,  ere  we  arrived  there,  and  when 
we  did,  in  how  odious  a  place  did  we  find 
ourselves !  So  unwilling  were  the  inhabitants 
to  commit  themselves  by  any  attention  to 
strangers,  that,  for  all  the  civility  we  met  with, 
we  might  have  had  the  plague.  Most  of  the 
people  loitering  about,  to  whom  we  spoke, 
shrugged  their  shoulders,  and  passed  on  ;  while 
a  few  indicated  a  very  filthy  osteria  as  the 
only  place  of  accommodation  in  this  uncouth 
wilderness.  And  when  within  the  walls  of 
the  unclean  locanda,  no  one  had  any  edibles 
for  sale ;  and  all  the  inmates,  after  staring  at 
us  for  awhile,  went  on  with  their  occupations 
with  the  most  profound  indifference  to  us  and 
our  wants.  Three  exotic-looking  men,  with 
long  uncombed  hair  and  moustache,  and  velvet 
cloaks,  looking  much  like  comedians,  come  and 
observe  us ;  they  say  they  are  Bolognese — we 
thing  them  refugees.  Four  priests  gaze  at  us, 
with  the  shrug  ignorant,  as  we  again  ask  for 


230  JOURNALS  OF 

food.  A  fifth  says,  "  E  indecente  !  due  fores- 
tieri  garbati,  e  non  sanno  che  fare,  ne  come 
mangiar,  ne  alloggiar ;"  *  but  his  faint  zeal  is 
rebuked  and  extinguished  by  the  others.  After 
a  long  hour  of  persuasion  and  quest,  we  are 
taken  to  another  osteria,  rather  less  filthy  than 
No.  1,  and  here  we  unload  our  ass.  But  lo ! 
to  our  additional  dismay,  the  foolish  old  guide 
of  Grotta  Minarda  suddenly  vows  he  will  go 
no  further  with  us.  "  E  come  posso  ?  con'  sto 
ciucciarello  ?  "  f  No  animals  or  guide  are  to 
be  procured  here,  and  Melfi  is  still  eighteen 
miles  off;  and  there  is  the  River  Ofanto  to  be 
crossed  in  the  way  thither  ! 

All  sorts  of  evils  seemed  at  once  in  array 
against  us,  so  we  took  time  to  decide  on  future 
plans,  and,  sending  out  for  eggs  and  wine,  we 
made  a  luncheon,  to  the  best  of  our  ability, 
among  the  half-naked  children,  dogs,  and  dirt. 
All  our  endeavours  of  persuasion  were  now 
directed  to  induce  the  silly  old  man  to  go  with 


*  It  is  really  a  shame.      Two  well-conditioned  strangers,  and 
they  don't  know  what  to  do — what  to  eat,  or  how  to  lodge ! 
t  How  can  I,  with  this  little  ass  ? 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  231 

us  as  far  as  the  next  town,  Lacedogna,  which 
being  a  possession  of  Prince  Doria  (who  had 
given  me  letters  to  his  castle  at  Melfi),  I 
thought  promised  some  better  chance  of 
assistance  on  the  journey  than  the  forlorn  place 
we  were  now  halting  in  ;  and  at  length,  by  dint 
of  bribes  and  appeals  to  his  feelings,  the  old 
man  relented,  the  last  weight  in  the  scale  of 
our  favour  being  a  gift  of  three  spigole,  which 
had  been  brought  to  us  for  sale,  and  which  we 
had  innocently  purchased,  the  same,  on  being 
boiled,  proving  highly  odoriferous.  "Buono 
per  noi,  non  per  voi,"  *  said  the  old  gentleman, 
on  graciously  accepting  the  present,  and  tying 
up  two  of  the  fish  in  his  pocket-handkerchief 
for  "  to-morrow,"  by  way  of  waiting  for  the  more 
perfect  development  of  their  flavour. 

After  this  we  set  off  from  Bisaccia,  a  place, 
according  to  old  Pacichelli,  "  of  which  little  can 
be  said."  There  are  many  very  pretty  bits  of 
architecture  in  it,  however ;  and  the  view  of  the 
distant  plains  is  noble  from  the  outskirts  of  the 


*  Good  for  us,  though  not  for  you. 


232  JOURNALS  OF 

town.  None  of  your  half-and-half  undulations, 
but  real  flat  Apulian  plains — pale  and  pink,  and 
level  as  a  calm  lake,  and  stretching  away,  as  it 
were,  into  the  very  clouds.  The  costume  here, 
too,  is  pretty :  the  dresses  of  the  women  are 
all  red,  the  skirt  plaited  and  adjusted  differently 
to  the  general  mode.  But  for  drawing  there 
was  no  time,  neither  was  there  any  one  view  of 
surpassing  or  characteristic  interest ;  so  we 
hurried  down  a  steep  descent,  crossed  a  valley, 
and  once  more  ascended  elevated  spurs  of  hill, 
whence  Monte  Voltore,  on  our  right  hand,  grew 
more  large  and  distinct ;  and  Lacedogna,  a  large 
but  unpicturesque  town,  lay  full  before  us.* 

There  we  arrived  about  2  or  3  P.M.,  and 
made  instant  inquiries  for  a  horse.  One,  they 
said,  was  to  be  hired,  so  we  engaged  it  hastily, 
for  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost — Melfi  is  still 
twelve  miles  off.  We  sate  in  a  wine-shop, 
unloaded  the  ass,  and  paid  the  foolish  man. 
"  Is  the  horse  coming  ?  "  said  we  to  the  sur- 


*  Lacedogna,  of  which  the  concise  Pacichelli  remarks,  "  It  is 
of  narrow  extent,  and  contains  nothing  either  curious  or  beautiful 
fit  for  observation,"  belongs  to  the  Doria  family. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  233 

rounding  idlers.  "  Yes,  it  is  on  the  way :  it 
will  be  here  in  half  a  minute."  A  quarter  of 
an  hour  passes — half  an  hour — three  quarters, 
and  still  no  horse.  "  Where  is  the  horse  ?  "— 
"  Ah,  signori,  they  are  saddling  it."  It  would 
soon  be  too  late  to  start  for  Melfi,  so  we  rushed 
to  the  stable  indicated  as  containing  the  fabulous 
quadruped,  and  lo !  there  it  was  calmly  lying 
down,  and  evidently  wholly  guiltless  of  any 
attempt,  passive  or  active,  towards  leaving 
Lacedogna.  Moreover,  a  dark  and  surly 
woman  said,  "It  never  was  to  be  hired — it 
never  was  intended  to  go  to  Melfi — and  it 
never  shall."  So,  all  our  hopes  vanishing,  we 
were  in  a  complete  fix. 

In  great  trouble,  we  stood  resolving  what  to 
do.  A  man  with  two  mules  passed.  Nothing 
is  lost  by  asking. 

"  Will  you  go  to  Melfi  ?"  said  we. 

"  No,"  was  the  answer,  "  unless  for  two 
ducats." 

"  They  are  yours,"  we  replied ;  and  seizing 
on  the  luckv  moment,  and  the  bridles,  we  lost 

V 

no  time  in  transferring  our  little  luggage  to 


234  JOURNALS  OF 

the  opportune  vettura,*  and  were  really,  after 
all  difficulties,  once  more  on  the  way  to  Melfi, 
leaving  Lacedogna,  like  other  places  in  Princi- 
pato  Citra,  with  very  little  regret.  Our  route 
led  at  first  by  the  side  of  a  winding  stream, 
and  then  by  a  great  ascent  to  Monteverde,  the 
last  town  in  the  province.  Here  we  arrived 
just  before  sunset,  and,  from  its  elevated  site, 
the  views  of  Monte  Voltore,  with  the  territory 
called  Monticchio,  ad  joining  the  isolated  volcanic 
woody  height,  are  most  gorgeous.  The  sudden 
contrast  between  the  uninteresting  country 
over  which  we  had  been  for  three  days  journey- 
ing, and  this  novel  and  beautiful  scenery,  was 
delightfully  animating,  notwithstanding  our 
resting-place  was  still  far  off.  Monte  Voltore 
is  the  Soracte  of  this  part  of  the  Regno  di 
Napoli ;  standing  alone,  and  graceful  in  form 
(much  resembling  Vesuvius),  it  is,  though 
inconsiderable  in  height,  conspicuous  among 
the  tame  undulations  on  all  sides,  and  its 
colouring  is  always  exqusite.  On  its  eastern 


*  Any  mode  of  conveyance. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  235 

and  southern  slopes  lie  the  towns  of  Melfi, 
Kapollo,  Barile,  Rionero,  and  Atella ;  on  the 
north  it  is  covered  with  dense  forests — a  royal 
demesne,  little  visited  by  strangers ;  and  the 
hollow  centre  of  this  singular  hill,  once  its 
crater,  contains  the  secluded  lake  and  convent  of 
San  Michele,  which,  ere  we  leave  Basilicata,*  we 
trust  to  see.  At  sunset  we  crossed  the  Ofanto, 
a  broad,  but  shallow  river  at  this  season,  and  the 
line  of  division  between  Principato  Citeriore 
and  Basilicata.  Henceforward,  after  a  short 
ascent,  we  went  on  apace  for  two  long  hours, 
which  sufficed  to  bring  us,  sleepy  and  weary,  to 
Melfi,  a  city  which  has  given  us  so  much  trouble 
to  reach  it,  that  we  are  anxious  lest  our  labour 
should  not  be  well  repaid.  But  on  our  enter- 
ing the  town,  it  is  too  dark  to  discern  any  of 
its  beauties  or  failings.  Yet  the  castle  of  Melfi, 


*  The  province  of  Basilicata  (part  of  ancient  Lucania)  con- 
tains 431,789  inhabitants  (Del  Ee,  1828),  and  was  called  by  its 
present  name  in  the  time  of  Frederick  II.  It  is  divided  into  four 
districts — Potenza  (now  the  chief  town),  Matera,  Melfi,  and  Lago 
Negro. 

The  old  authors  speak  of  manna  being  commonly  found  in  many 
parts  of  it. 


236  JOURNALS  OF 

which  we  reach  by  a  short  ascent  from  the 
streets,  is  sufficiently  imposing  at  this  silent 
hour  of  night.  There  is  a  drawbridge,  and 
sullen  gates,  and  dismal  court-yards,  and  massive 
towers,  and  seneschals  with  keys  and  fierce 
dogs, — all  the  requisites  of  the  feudal  fortress 
of  romance. 

Signor  Vittorio  Manassei,  the  steward  and 
agent  of  Prince  Doria,  received  us  most 
amiably,  and  ushered  us  into  magnificent  halls, 
forming  a  strange  contrast  to  our  late  sojourn- 
ing places.  Around  were  mirrors  and  gilded 
furniture  in  all  the  full  splendour  of  Italian 
baronial  style,  and  the  perfect  order  and  clean- 
ness of  the  establishment  did  high  credit  to 
the  Roman  agent's  skill  and  taste. 

September  18. — A  delightful  place  of  sojourn 
is  Melfi,*  the  first  stronghold  of  Normans  in 


*  Melfi  is  one  of  the  four  capi-distretti  of  the  province  of 
Basilicata.  According  to  Pacichelli  and  others,  it  was  origi- 
nally Melphis,  a  Greek  city.  He  speaks  of  Popes  Nicolo  II. 
and  Urban  II.  holding  councils  there  in  1069  and  1098. 
K.  Craven  gives  the  dates  1089  and  1100.  The  castle  and  town 
were  built  by  the  sons  of  Tancred  de  Hauteville.  After  the 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  237 

Apulia.  One  of  the  towers  of  Roger  de 
Hauteville  still  exists,  but  the  great  hall,  where 
Normans  and  Popes  held  councils  in  bygone 
days,  is  now  a  theatre. 

The  present  building  dates  from  the  six- 
teenth century,  and  the  offices  and  other 
additions  still  later.  The  castle  overlooks  the 
whole  town  of  Melfi,  but  no  great  extent  of 
distant  country,  for  one  side  of  the  horizon  is 
wholly  filled  up  by  the  near  Monte  Voltore, 
and  the  remainder  by  a  range  of  low  hills,  so 
that  the  site  of  the  town  seems  to  have  been 
selected  as  much  for  concealment  as  strength. 

A  morning's  ramble  made  me  acquainted 
with  all  the  characteristic  beauties  of  the  place, 
which  is  a  perfect  tame  oasis  among  much 
uninteresting  scenery.  The  picturesque  build- 

• 

ings  of  the  city  (which  seems  to  occupy  the  site 
of  some  ancient  place) ;  the  valley  below  it,  with 
its  clear  stream  and  great  walnut-trees;  the 


defection  of  the  Caraccioli,  to  whom  the  castle  had  been  given 
by  CHovanna  II.,  the  emperor  Charles  V.  bestowed  it  on  Andrea 
Doria,  and  the  dukedom  of  Melfi  has  ever  since  remained  in 
his  family. 


238  JOURNALS  OF 

numerous  fountains  ;  the  innumerable  caves  in 
the  rocks  around,  now  used  as  stabling  for 
goats,  which  cluster  in  swarthy  multitudes  on 
tiers  of  crags  ;  the  convents  and  shrines  scat- 
tered here  and  there  in  the  suburbs ;  the 
crowded  houses  and  the  lofty  spires  of  the 
interior ;  and  the  perfectly  Poussinesque  castle, 
with  its  fine  corner  tower  commanding  the 
whole  scene :  *  so  many  fine  features  in  a  cir- 
cumscribed space  it  is  not  common  to  see,  even 
in  Italy.  If  one  must  find  a  fault,  it  is  that 
Melfi  cannot  boast  of  a  beautiful  bit  of  remote 
landscape  to  fill  up  the  list  of  its  excellent 
qualities. 

In  the  middle  of  the  day  we  returned  to  the 
castle,  and  were  treated  most  hospitably  by  the 
polite  Signer  Manassei  and  his  family,  consist- 
ing of  his  wife  and  two  daughters  ;  and,  after 
we  had  passed  the  afternoon  in  drawing,  a  sort 
of  reunion  of  Melfitan  neighbours,  guitars, 
singing,  and  cards  till  supper- time,  closed  a 
very  agreeable  day. 


All  this,  alas !  has  passed  away.     See  note,  page  277. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  239 

September  19- — There  is  a  formidable  long 
gallery  adjoining  our  room,  full  of  old  oak 
chests,  and  older  armour  ;  and  its  windows  are 
seized  every  now  and  then  with  terrible  fits  of 
rattling,  so  that  one  is  apt  to  think  old  Andrea 
Doria's  ghost  may  be  walking  about,  if  not  that 
of  some  old  Norman.  We  dined  with  the 
whole  family  to-day,  and  found  them  very 
agreeable,  particularly  one  of  the  daughters. 
Signora  Manassei  has,  in  speaking  of  the  world 
of  Melfi,  that  mixture  of  kindness  and  pity 
which  characterises  the  true  Roman  manner. 
Then  we  loitered  on  vine  terraces  and  under 
pergolate,  and  ate  grapes  in  the  large  vineyards 
behind  the  castle ;  and,  along  with  Signor 
Vittorio  and  his  two  merry  daughters,  examined 
all  the  older  part  of  the  building,  the  prisons, 
and  the  old  hall,  used  as  a  theatre  in  the  last 
century. 

September  20. — Another  merry  day — drawing 
out  of  doors — laughter  within.  What  a  home 
one  might  make  of  the  Castle  of  Melfi,  with  its 
city  below  and  its  territory  around — the  beau 


240  JOURNALS  OF 

ideal   of  old    feudal   possession    and    magnifi- 
cence. 

September  21. — But  what  shall  we  do  when 
we  go  out  once  more  into  the  wide  world  and 
its  dirty  osterias? — after  these  princely  subtleties 
of  luxury,  this  buttered  toast  and  caffe  for 
breakfast,  these  comfortable  rooms  and  merry 
society  ?  The  ease  and  grandeur  of  the  Palazzo 
Doria  in  Melfi  will  have  spoiled  us,  methinks, 
for  rough  travelling. 

This  day,  like  its  fellows,  went  by,  and  left 
no  shadow  on  memory's  path ;  but  we  had  now 
made  as  many  drawings  as  we  had  a  right  to 
require,  and  we  had  had  four  days  of  unvariedly 
pleasing  reception,  so  we  prepare  to  depart  on 
the  morrow  for  Minervino  and  Castel  del 
Monte;  these,  with  visits  to  Venosa,  San 
Michele,  and  Castel  Lago  Pesole,  will  fill  up 
the  remainder  of  our  time  for  wandering. 

Before  the  evening  reunion,  a  foreman  or 
Campagna  steward  of  the  Doria  family  was 
called  in  by  Signer  Manassei.  Don  Sebastiano, 
"  il  Fattore,"  is  a  large  and  important  person, 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  241 

who,  knowing  all  roads  far  and  near,  is  strictly 
enjoined  to  take  charge  of  us  as  far  as  Rio 
Nero,  and  to  see  that  we  want  for  nothing  in 
going  or  returning. 


242  JOURNALS  OF 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Leave  Melfi. —  Regrets  for  old  Dighi,  D<5ghi,  Da. —  The  magnificent  Don 
Sebastiano. — Lavello. — We  prefer  walking  to  riding. — Mid-day  halt. — 
View  of  Monte  Voltore. — Apulian  plains — their  great  flatness  and  pale- 
ness.— Approach  to  Minervino. — Its  appearance — streets,  animation,  &c. 
— Plain  of  Cannae. — Monte  Gargano,  &c. — Don  Vincenzino  Todesche  : 
his  warm  and  friendly  reception. — The  family  supper. — Don  Vincenzino's 
hospitable  opinions. — Weary  ride  from  Minervino  by  the  stony  Murgie. — 
Immense  extent  of  Apulian  pianura. — Remarkable  beauty  of  Castel  del 
Monte. —  Its  architectural  interest. — Return  to  Minervino.  —  Tradition 
concerning  the  architect  of  Castel  del  Monte. — We  leave  Minervino. — 
Reputation  for  cordiality  enjoyed  by  the  south-eastern  provinces  of  the 
Regno. — Halt  at  Monte  Milone. — Oak  woods. — Views  of  Venosa  and  Monte 
Voltore. — Picturesqueness  of  Venosa:  its  streets,  &c. — Palazzo  of  Don 
Nicola  Rapolla,  and  agreeable  reception  there. — His  family. — Luxuries 
and  refinements. — The  castle  of  Venosa  :  its  modernised  interior,  prisons, 
stables,  &c. — Agreeable  stay  at  the  Casa  Rapolla. — Venosa  Cathedral. — 
Church  of  La  Trinita. — Ruined  Church  and  Monastery  of  the  Bene- 
dictines.— Amphitheatre. — Another  day  at  the  Casa  Rapolla. — We  leave 
Venosa.  —  High  roads,  commerce,  and  civilization. — Skirts  of  Monte 
Voltore. — Towns  of  Rapolla  and  Barile. — Large  town  of  Rio  Nero. — 
Indications  of  its  wealth  and  activity. — House  of  Don  P.  Catena :  its 
comfort  and  good  arrangements.  —  Our  hospitable  welcome.  —  Signer 
Manassei  again. — Evening  musical  party  at  Rio  Nero. 

September  %%. — We  did  not  start  very  early 
from   the   lordly  gates  of  Melfi   Castle.      No 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  243 

luggage  mule  was  to  be  found,  but  our  little 
roba*  was  dispersed  upon  three  horses,  one  of 
which  was  ridden  by  the  corpulent  Fattore. 
We  took  leave  of  the  cheerful  Manassei  family, 
with  feelings  something  more  akin  to  those 
with  which  we  used  to  part  from  Calabrian 
entertainers  than  we  had  experienced  since  we 
had  entered  these  midland  provinces.  But  ah ! 
in  these  days  of  Basilicata  and  Principato  how 
often  did  we  wish  for  good  old  Dighi,  Doghi, 
Da !  Not  but  that  our  large  guardian,  Don 
Sebastiano,  was  very  obliging  (he  was  extremely 
like  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  seen  through  a  magni- 
fying glass,  and  dressed  in  a  tight  blue  jacket 
and  trowsers),  but  from  having  been  Guardiano 
in  the  service  of  the  King,  when  he  was  staying 
at  the  Palazzo  Doria,  and  having  then  accom- 
panied him  in  various  hunting  expeditions,  the 
worthy  man  was  so  pompous,  and  so  full  of 
long  stories  of  royal  doings,  that  his  manner 
rather  oppressed  us,  the  more  that  being 


*  "Boba"  is  a  word  of  wide  signification  in  Italian;  in  the 
present  case  it  means  "baggage,"  but  it  may  be  generally  well 
rendered  by  the  English  "  things." 

R  2 


244  JOURNALS  OF 

seventy-three  years  old,  he  seemed  too  vener- 
able to  be  ordered  hither  and  thither. 

About  eight  miles  from  Melfi  we  passed  close 
to  Lavello,  rather  a  pretty  town.  Farther  on 
we  encountered  a  tiresome  elevated  plain,  and 
the  uninteresting  valley  of  the  river  Bonovento, 
where,  giving  our  horses  to  a  man  who  accom- 
panied us  on  foot,  we  proceeded  to  walk :  but 
at  this  proceeding  Don  Sebastiano  was  horrified. 
The  horses,  he  said,  were  not  good,  and  he 
would  return  instantly  to  Melfi  for  others.  In 
vain  we  assured  him  that  Englishmen  did 
occasionally  walk  as  a  matter  of  choice  :  this 
assertion  he  treated  as  wholly  poetical ;  and  he 
never  during  the  journey  ceased  to  regret  his 
choice  of  steeds.  After  a  gradual  ascent  from 
the  low  grounds  of  the  Bonovento,  where  were 
abundance  of  buffali,  and  great  flights  of  a  bird 
which  the  Fattore  called  "  calendroni,"  we 
arrived  at  the  summit  of  the  last  ridge  of  hill 
on  the  eastern  side  of  Italy,  where,  in  a  sort  of 
ruined  guardhouse,  we  halted  to  lunch  and  rest 
at  half-past  twelve.  From  this  spot  there  is  a 
fine  view  of  Monte  Voltore,  which  stands  alone 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  245 

on  the  western  horizon ;  but  the  prospect  to 
the  south  and  east  is  one  of  the  most  surpris- 
ingly striking  character,  and  totally  unlike 
anything  presented  by  other  parts  of  Italy — 
portions  of  the  Campagna  of  Rome  near  the 
sea  perhaps  excepted.  Yet  even  those  scenes 
fail  to  recall  the  exceeding  paleness,  and  pink- 
ness,  and  flatness  of  the  great  outstretched 
sheet  of  pianura,  which  spreads  away  from 
the  foot  of  the  Apennines  to  the  sea — those 
wide  plains  of  Apulia,  so  full  of  interest  to 
the  historian,  and  doubtless  not  less  so  to  the 
painter. 

To  the  south,  on  a  spur  of  the  hills  over- 
looking the  maritime  part  of  the  province  of 
Basilicata  and  Capitanata,  stands  Minervino, 
and  thither  we  directed  our  course,  over 
undulating  green  meadows  which  descend  to 
the  plain,  and  we  arrived  about  an  hour  before 
sunset  at  the  foot  of  the  height  on  which  the 
town  is  situated.  Minervino  enjoys  a  noble 
prospect  northward,  over  the  level  of  Cannae 
to  the  bay  and  mountain  of  Gargano,  at  which 
distance  the  outspread  breadth  of  plain  is 


246  JOURNALS  OF 

so  beautifully  delicate  in  its  infinity  of  clear 
lines,  as  to  resemble  sea  more  than  earth.  The 
town  is  a  large,  clean,  and  thriving  place,  with 
several  streets  flanked  by  loggie,  and  altogether 
different  in  its  appearance  and  in  its  popula- 
tion from  Abruzzese  or  Calabrese  towns.  The 
repose,  or  to  speak  more  plainly,  the  stagnation 
of  the  latter,  contrasts  very  decidedly  with  these 
communities  of  Apulia, — all  bustle  and  anima- 
tion—  where  well -paved  streets,  good  houses, 
and  strings  of  laden  mules,  proclaim  an  advance 
in  commercial  civilisation. 

We  encountered  in  the  street  Don  Vincenzino 
Todeschi,  who  on  reading  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion, given  to  us  for  him  by  Signer  Manassei, 
seemed  to  consider  our  dwelling  with  him  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  shaking  hands  with  us 
heartily,  begged  us  to  go  to  his  house  and  use 
it  as  our  own ;  he  was  busy  then,  but  would 
join  us  at  supper. 

In  the  evening  there  was  a  family  gathering 
at  that  meal ;  there  was  Don  Vincenzino,  the 
host,  who  conversed  on  statistics,  commercial 
pursuits,  railroads,  and  increasing  facilities  of 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  247 

communication,  and  other  practical  matters. 
"  Send  any  of  your  friends  who  come  this 
way  to  me,"  said  he :  "  stendere  relazioni,  to 
increase  a  connection  all  over  the  world  should 
be  the  object  of  a  liberal-minded  man ;  know- 
ledge and  prosperity  come  by  variety  of 
acquaintance,"  &c.  &c.  There  were  three  sons 
also  with  their  tutor,  a  gentlemanlike  and  well- 
informed  abbate;  and  a  very  nice  little  girl, 
Teresa,  who,  her  mother  being  dead,  was 
evidently  the  family  pet.  The  Fattore  Don 
Sebastiano  sat  in  silence,  though  before  supper 
he  had  been  rather  loquacious  concerning  the 
family  Todeschi,  whom  he  looks  down  upon  as 
"  novi  ricchi,"  spite  of  the  show  drawing-room, 
chimney  mirrors,  carpets,  and  tables  full  of 
nicknacks. 

P and  I  are  not  a  little  perplexed  as 

to  what  we  shall  do  to-morrow,  for,  owing  to 
time  running  short,  we  have  but  one  day  left 
ere  we  turn  towards  Naples.  Canosa  (ancient 
Cannae)  and  Castel  del  Monte,  are  the  two 
points,  either  of  which  we  could  be  content  to 
reach ;  but  as  each  demands  a  hard  day's 


248  JOURNALS  OF 

work,  we  finally  resolve  to  divide  them,  P 

choosing  Canosa,  and  I  the  old  castle  of 
Frederick  Barbarossa,  of  which  I  had  heard  so 
much  as  one  of  the  wonders  of  Apulia. 

September  23 Before  daylight  each  of   us 

set  off  on  his  separate  journey  on  horseback, — 

P with   the   bulky    Don    Sebastiano    to 

Canosa,  I  to  Castel  del  Monte,  with  a  guardiano 
of  Don  Vincenzino  Todeschi's  family.  Oh  me  ! 
what  a  day  of  fatigue  and  tiresome  labour! 
Almost  immediately  on  leaving  Minervino  we 
came  to  the  dullest  possible  country, — elevated 
stony  plains — weariest  of  barren  undulations 
stretching  in  unbroken  ugliness  towards 
Altamura  and  Gravina.  Much  of  this  hideous 
tract  is  ploughed  earth,  and  here  and  there  we 
encountered  a  farm  house  with  its  fountain : 
no  distant  prospect  ever  relieves  these  dismal, 
shrubless,  Murgie  (for  so  is  this  part  of  the 
province  of  Bari  called),  and  flights  of  "calen- 
droni,"  with  a  few  skylarks  above,  and  scattered 
crocuses  below,  alone  vary  the  sameness  of  the 
journey.  At  length,  after  nearly  five  hours  of 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  249 

slow  riding,  we  came  in  sight  of  the  castle, 
which  was  the  object  of  my  journey ;  it  is 
built  at  the  edge  of  these  plains  on  one  of 
the  highest,  but  gradually  rising  eminences,  and 
looks  over  a  prospect  perfectly  amazing  as  to 
its  immense  extent  and  singular  character. 
One  vast  pale  pink  map,  stretching  to  Monte 
Gargano,  and  the  plains  of  Foggia,  north- 
ward, is  at  your  feet;  southward,  Terra  di 
Bari,  and  Terra  di  Otranto,  fade  into  the 
horizon ;  and  eastward,  the  boundary  of  this 
extensive  level  is  always  the  blue  Adriatic, 
along  which,  or  near  its  shore,  you  see,  as  in  a 
chart,  all  the  maritime  towns  of  Puglia  in 
succession,  from  Barletta  southward  towards 
Brindisi. 

The  barren  stony  hill  from  which  you  behold 
all  this  extraordinary  outspread  of  plain,  has 
upon  it  one  solitary  and  remarkable  building,  the 
great  hunting  palace,*  called  Castel  del  Monte, 
erected  in  the  twelfth  century  by  the  Emperor 
Barbarossa,  or  Frederick  II.  Its  attractions  at 


*  Excellent  descriptions  of  this  most  beautiful  castle  are  to  be 
found  in  Mr.  Swinburne's  and  the  Hon.  Keppel  Craven's  works. 


250  JOURNALS  OF 

first  sight  are  those  of  position  and  singularity 
of  form,  which  is  that  of  an  octagon,  with  a 
tower  on  each  of  the  eight  corners.  But  to  an 
architect,  the  beautiful  masonry  and  exquisite 
detail  of  the  edifice  (although  it  was  never 
completed,  and  has  been  robbed  of  its  fine 
carved-work  for  the  purpose  of  ornamenting 
churches  on  the  plain),  render  it  an  object  of 
the  highest  curiosity  and  interest. 

The  interior  of  this  ancient  building  is  also 
extremely  striking ;  the  inner  court-yard  and 
great  Gothic  Hall,  invested  with  the  sombre 
mystery  of  partial  decay,  the  eight  rooms 
above,  the  numerous  windows,  all  would  repay 
a  long  visit  from  any  one  to  whom  the  details 
of  such  architecture  are  desiderata. 

Confining  myself  to  making  drawings  of  the 
general  appearance  of  this  celebrated  castle,  I 
had  hardly  time  to  complete  two  careful  sketches 
of  it,  when  the  day  was  so  far  advanced  that  my 
guardiano  recommended  a  speedy  return,  and 
by  the  time  I  had  overcome  the  five  hours  of 
stony  "  murgie  "  I  confess  to  having  thought 
that  any  thing  less  interesting  than  Castel  del 


~~7     -~ 

0  1 

5-    p? 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  251 

Monte  would  hardly  have  compensated  for  the 
day's   labour.      I   reached    Minervino   at   one 

hour  of  the  night,  and  found  P just  arrived 

from  his  giro  to  Canosa. 

While  riding  over  the  Murgie,  slowly  pacing 
over  those  stony  hills,  my  guide  indulged  me 
with  a  legend  of  the  old  castle,  which  is  worth 
recording,  be  it  authentic  or  imaginary.  The 
Emperor  Frederick  II.  having  resolved  to  build 
the  magnificent  residence  on  the  site  it  now 
occupies,  employed  one  of  the  first  architects 
of  the  day  to  erect  it ;  and  during  its  progress 
dispatched  one  of  his  courtiers  to  inspect  the 
work,  and  to  bring  him  a  report  of  its 
character  and  appearance.  The  courtier  set 
out ;  but  on  passing  through  Melfi,  halted  to 
rest  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  where  he  became 
enamoured  of  a  beautiful  damsel,  whose  eyes 
caused  him  to  forget  Castel  del  Monte  and  his 
sovereign,  and  induced  him  to  linger  in  the 
Norman  city  until  a  messenger  arrived  there 
charged  by  the  emperor  to  bring  him  imme- 
diately to  the  Court,  then  at  Naples.  At 
that  period  it  was  by  no  means  probable 


252  JOURNALS  OF 

that  Barbarossa,  engaged  in  different  warlike 
schemes,  would  ever  have  leisure  to  visit  his 
new  castle,  and  the  courtier,  fearful  of  delay, 
resolved  to  hurry  into  the  presence  and  risk  a 
description  of  the  building  which  he  had  not 
seen,  rather  than  confess  his  neglect  of  duty. 
Accordingly  he  denounced  the  commencement 
of  Castel  del  Monte  as  a  total  failure  both  as  to 
beauty  and  utility,  and  the  architect  as  an 
impostor ;  on  hearing  which  the  emperor  sent 
immediately  to  the  unfortunate  builder,  the 
messenger  carrying  an  order  for  his  disgrace,  and 
a  requisition  for  his  instant  appearance  in  the 
capital.  "  Suffer  me  to  take  leave  of  my  wife 
and  children,"  said  the  despairing  architect, 
and  shutting  himself  in  one  of  the  upper  rooms, 
he  forthwith  destroyed  his  whole  family  and 
himself,  rather  than  fall  into  the  hands  of  a 
monarch  notorious  for  his  severity. 

The  tidings  of  this  event  was,  however, 
brought  to  the  emperor's  ears,  and  with 
characteristic  impetuosity  he  set  off  for  Apulia 
directly,  taking  with  him  the  first  courtier- 
messenger,  doubtless  sufficiently  ill  at  ease 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  253 

from  anticipations  of  the  results  about  to  follow 
his  duplicity.  What  was  Barbarossa's  indig- 
nation at  beholding  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
buildings  doomed,  through  the  falsehood  of  his 
messenger,  to  remain  incomplete,  and  polluted 
by  the  blood  of  his  most  skilful  subject,  and 
that  of  his  innocent  family  ! 

Foaming  with  rage,  he  dragged  the  offender 
by  the  hair  of  his  head  to  the  top  of  the  highest 
tower,  and  with  his  own  hands  threw  him  down 
as  a  sacrifice  to  the  memory  of  the  architect  and 
his  family,  so  cruelly  and  wantonly  destroyed. 

September  24. — Having  risen  before  sunrise, 
the  energetic  and  practical  Don  Vincenzino 
gave  us  coffee  by  the  aid  of  a  spirit  lamp,  and 
we  passed  some  hours  in  drawing  the  town  of 
Minervino,  the  sparkling  lights  and  delicate 
gray  tints  of  whose  buildings  blended  charm- 
ingly with  the  vast  pale  rosy  plains  of  Apulia 
in  the  far  distance.  At  nine  we  returned  to  a 
substantial  dejeuner,  and  at  half-past  ten  took 
leave  of  our  thoroughly  hospitable  and  good- 
natured  host. 


254  JOURNALS  OF 

Basilicata,  Bari,  and  the  southern  or  Apulian 
province  of  Otranto,  hold  as  high  a  place  in 
the  Regno  di  Napoli  for  their  "  civilizazione  e 
cordialita,"  as  do  the  Abruzzesi  and  Calabresi : 
the  central  provinces,  either  from  vicinity  to  the 
capital  or  other  causes,  are  less  amiably  depicted, 
and  assuredly  our  experience  of  Principato 
Citra  had  borne  out  the  truth  of  the  legend. 

Turning  our  faces  westward,  we  resumed  our 
route,  which  at  first  was  not  of  the  most  agree- 
able kind,  carrying  us  ever  at  the  bottom  of  a 
narrow  valley  bounded  by  low  acclivities,  until, 
ascending  the  hills  which  skirt  the  Apulian 
plains,  we  came  in  sight  of  Monte  Milone,  and 
the  beautiful  form  of  Monte  Voltore  beyond. 
At  Monte  Milone  we  halted,  as  well  to  draw 
as  for  refreshment,  which,  in  the  shape  of  bread 
and  grapes,  and  good  wine,  we  found  in  the 
village  osteria,  in  whose  dark  chamber,  one 
sick  unclothed  child  on  a  bed,  and  five  others 
in  similar  undress  perversely  crawling  about 
the  floor  like  so  many  brown  spiders,  were  the 
only  remarkable  objects.  After  leaving  the 
village  we  entered  on  a  track  leading  over  a 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  255 

pleasant  plain,  through  a  beautiful  scattered 
wood  of  young  oaks,  between  which  were  noble 
views  towards  the  left  of  Acerenza,  and  before 
us  of  Venosa ;  "  Mons  Vultur  "  ever  closing  the 
horizon  of  the  onward  landscape.  Nothing  could 
be  more  agreeable  than  this  latter  part  of  the 
day's  ride,  barring  that  the  horse-flies  were  so 
numerous  that  we  were  fain  to  shelter  ourselves 
and  steeds  with  gathered  oak  boughs.  At 
twenty-three  o'clock  we  arrived  at  the  ancient 
town  of  Venosa,  which,  both  externally  and 
internally  a  most  picturesque  place,  stands 
on  the  brink  of  a  wide  and  deep  ravine,  its 
cathedral  and  castle  overlooking  the  whole 
area  of  habitations.  Extremely  clean  streets, 
paved  from  side  to  side  with  broad  flags  of 
stone,  like  those  in  Naples ;  numerous  bits  of 
columns  or  capitals,  mediaeval  stone  lions,  and 
the  machicolated  and  turreted  towers  of  the 
old  castle,  gave  great  hopes  of  great  employ  for 
the  pencil. 

We  easily  found  the  house  of  Don  Nicola 
Rapolla,  to  whom  Signer  Manassei  had  ad- 
dressed us,  the  principal  proprietor  of  the  place  ; 


256  JOURNALS  OF 

it  was  an  extremely  large  rambling  mansion 
in  a  great  court-yard,  where  granaries,  stables, 
and  a  profusion  of  pigeons,  and  other  domestic 
creatures,  indicated  the  wealthy  man.  Two 
ladies  of  considerable  beauty,  and  graceful 
exterior  and  manners,  informed  us  that  Don 
Nicola  was  from  home,  but  his  brothers,  DD. 
Peppino  and  Domenico,  husbands  of  the  two 
ladies,  soon  joined  and  heartily  welcomed  us. 
Don  Peppino,  dressed  in  the  extreme  of  Nea- 
politan fashion,  and  Donna  Maria  in  a  riding 
habit  and  hat,  appeared  to  our  amazed  senses 
as  truly  wonderful  and  unexpected  objects  in 
this  the  land  of  Horace.  Presently,  Don 
Nicola,  a  sacerdote,  but  head  and  eldest  of  the 
house,  and  lord  and  master  of  all  Venosa,  came 
home,  and  renewed  welcome  followed ;  we 
were  shown  into  very  good  rooms,  containing 
four-post  bedsteads,  pier-glasses,  wardrobes,  and 
other  luxuries  which  Horatian  ages  knew  not ; 
and  after  a  while  we  prepared  ourselves  in 
"  our  best  clothes  "  for  supper ;  for  our  hosts 
are  Neapolitan  grandees  of  the  first  caste,  and 
all  their  household  arrangements  exhibit  good 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  257 

taste  and  order.  As  for  the  two  ladies,  they 
talk  French  as  well  as  Italian,  and  are  infinitely 
agreeable  and  intelligent.  To-morrow  we  are 
to  be  lionised  over  Venosa. 

September  25. — The  castle  of  Venosa*  is  a 
fine  old  building  of  the  fifteenth  century  ;  it  is 
inhabited  at  present  by  Don  Peppino  Rapolla 
and  his  lady.  Hither,  attended  by  Don  Nicola, 
whom  I  in  vain  endeavoured  to  detach  from 
us,  we  repaired  at  early  morn,  and  sate  down 
before  it  to  draw,  our  polite  host  lingering  by 
our  sides,  until,  on  my  telling  him  that  we 
might  be  fixed  for  two  or  three  hours,  he  at 
length  withdrew.  Afterwards  we  crossed  the 
ravine,  and  drew  the  town  of  Venosa,  with  its 
old  churches  and  picturesque  houses,  and  the 
purple  Monte  Voltore  behind, — one  of  the 
most  pleasing  landscapes  I  had  seen  in  this 
part  of  the  Kegno. 

At  noon  we  paid  a  visit  to  the  castle  and  its 
inmates.  Don  Peppino  has  modernised  one  of 


*  Erected  in  the  fifteenth  century  by  Perro  di  Balzo,  Prince 
of  Altamura  and  Venosa. — (Craven.) 


258  JOURNALS  OF 

the  great  halls  into  a  very  delightful  drawing- 
room,  where  a  grand  piano  and  sofas  harmonise 
well  with  old  carved  chairs  and  ornamented 
ceilings ;  its  pretty  and  ladylike  mistress  being 
the  chief  charm  of  the  salon. 

We  explored  the  whole  of  this  old  feudal 
fortress  :  a  long  winding  stair  leads  to  fearsome 
dungeons,  their  sad  and  gloomy  walls  covered 
with  inscriptions,  written  by  the  hands  of 
despairing  captives.  Most  of  these  mournful 
records  are  dated  in  the  early  years  of  the 
16th  century,  and  a  volume  of  ugly  romances 
might  be  gathered  from  the  melancholy  list. 
Then  there  were  four  stables  to  see,  each 
made  to  hold  fifty  horses ;  and  a  deep  moat 
round  the  whole  castle,  with  other  et-cetera 
— "  quae  nunc  describere,"  &c. 

Returning  at  noon  to  the  Casa  Rapolla,  we 
found  the  dinner-hour  fixed  at  three — woe  to 
us  for  the  fashionable  hours  of  our  hospitable 
hosts  ! — through  which  arrangement  we  fear  our 
afternoon  sketching  must  be  relinquished.  Don 
Peppino  and  his  wife  were  of  the  party,  and  the 
entertainment  was  excellent  in  all  respects. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER,  259 

The  conversation  is  often  on  English  literature 
— Shakspeare,  Milton,  &c.,  on  whom  there  are 
various  opinions ;  but  all  agree  about  "  quel 
Autore  adorabile,  Valter  Scott ! "  The  Canonico 
reads  one  of  the  romanzi  once  a  month,  and  the 
whole  family  delight  in  them ;  and  are  also 
equally  conversant  with  other  known  English 
writers.  The  cuisine  is  of  a  much  more 
recherche  kind  than  is  usually  met  with  in  the 
provinces,  and  we  are  particularly  directed  to 
taste  this  dish  of  seppia  or  cuttlefish,  or  to  do 
justice  to  those  mushrooms.  The  wines,  more- 
over, are  superexcellent,  and  the  little  black 
olives  the  best  possible ;  and  all  things  are  well 
served  and  in  good  taste. 

After  dinner  we  move  into  the  library — a 
large  room  well  stored  with  books ;  here  we 
have  caffe  and  a  visit  from  the  Giudice  and 
other  Venusiani,  after  which  we  go  out  in  a 
carriage  to  see  the  lions  of  the  town.  And 
first  the  ancient  cathedral,  spoiled  by  modern 
"  improvements,"  whitewashed  and  bedaubed, 
one  good  arch  only  remaining  intact;  many 
fragments,  apparently  of  Roman  workmanship, 


s  2 


260  JOURNALS  OF 

are  built  up  into  the  walls.  Next,  the  church 
of  La  Trinita,  an  extremely  ancient  low  building 
with  pointed  arches ;  two  large  stone  lions 
guard  the  door,  and  near  it  is  a  vestibule  con- 
taining a  single  column,  around  which,  according 
to  the  local  popular  superstition,  if  you  go  hand 
in  hand  with  any  person,  the  two  circumam- 
bulants  are  certain  to  remain  friends  for  life. 
The  interior  of  this  most  interesting  church  is 
miserably  spoiled  by  neglect  and  additions :  on 
the  walls  are  yet  visible  many  half-effaced 
frescoes  of  early  date, — one  of  Pope  Niccolo  has 
suffered  but  little  from  time.  There  are  the 
tombs  also  of  Eobert  Guiscard,  and  Ademberta 
his  wife,  but  so  shamefully  out  of  repairs,  that 
the  Trinita  church  is  a  disgrace  to  Venosa. 
Hence  we  went  to  a  church  commenced  on  a 
great  scale  by  the  Benedictines,  but  the  progress 
or  completion  of  the  building  was  interrupted 
by  an  earthquake  or  want  of  funds ;  there  is  a 
fine  perspective  of  ancient  columns  and  capitals, 
but  the  whole  edifice  is  now  overgrown  with 
vegetation,  and  part  of  it  turned  into  a  vine- 
yard, the  vines  forming  a  pergolata  walk  where 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  261 

the  middle  aisle  should  be :  nothing  of  its  kind 
can  be  more  picturesque  than  this  verdant 
ruin.* 

Later  we  went  to  the  remains  of  the  amphi- 
theatre, a  ruin  only  partly  excavated ;  and 
from  thence  we  adjourned  to  the  castle,  where 
was  a  "  soiree  "  and  some  good  singing,  till  four 
hours  of  the  night,  when  we  returned  to  the 
Casa  Rapolla  to  supper.  Such  is  the  fashion 
of  Venosa ! 

September  26. — Luxuries  again  !  Coffee  and 
hot  buttered  toast  are  served  at  sunrise,  the 
latter  food  being  firmly  believed  by  Nea- 
politans to  be  as  much  a  part  of  English  break- 
fast as  roast  beef  is  of  dinner.  The  morning, 
fresh  and  delightful,  we  passed  quietly  on  the 
banks  of  the  ravine,  or  in  the  church  of  the 
Benedictines ;  the  wild  air  of  by-gone  times 


*  The  church  and  monastery  of  della  Trinita  was  erected  about 
942,  on  the  site  of  a  temple  of  Hymen,  by  Grisulphus,  Prince  of 
Salerno ;  repaired  one  hundred  years  afterwards  by  Eobert 
Guiscard.  In  the  thirteenth  century  the  Benedictines  used  up 
the  great  Roman  amphitheatre  if)  mend  it,  but  it  was  never 
completed.  (Craven.) 


262  JOURNALS  OF 

characteristic  of  Venosa  is  mournfully  charming. 
Our  mid-day  and  early  afternoon  was  passed 
at  the  Casa  Rapolla,  always  pleasurably  ;  the 
intelligence  and  affable  cordiality  of  our  host  is 
very  agreeable.  Towards  evening  we  walk 
out.  The  grandeur  of  these  great  men  of 
Venosa  is  observable  at  every  moment,  in  the 
obsequious  demeanour  of  all  the  people  we 
meet :  as  for  the  peasantry,  they  doff  their 
hats  a  long  way  off,  and  crossing  over  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street  stand  like  statues  as 
we  pass. 

After  seeing  the  golden  sun  sink  down  behind 
Monte  Voltore,  we  passed  two  or  three  hours 
in  music,  chess,  and  drawing,  at  Don  Peppino's, 
returning  to  the  evening  meal  at  our  host's. 
We  set  off  to-morrow  for  Barile,  Eio  Nero,  and 
S.  Michele. 

September  27.  —  With  great  regret  I  left 
Venosa,  and  the  pleasant  family  we  had  staid 
with — the  only  people  one  has  greatly  cared  for 
in  all  this  tour.  Our  route  led  us  over  an 
uninterrupted  series  of  undulations  to  the  foot 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  263 

of    Monte  Voltore,  and   but    that    the   early 
morning  was  very  lovely,  we  should  have  voted 
the  walk  tiresome.     The  bulky  Don  Sebastiano 
had  left  us,  and  a  guide  with  a  donkey  was  our 
escort.  An  oak-fringed  slope  and  lanes  between 
vineyards  brought  us  to  Rapollo,  a  town  which 
stands  on  the  base  of  the  mountain  close  to 
Melfi,  and  henceforward  we  are  once  more  (save 
for  the  digression  we  shall  make  to  the  Convent 
of  San  Michele)  in  the  high  carrozzabile  road 
of  civilisation,   and  commerce.     Kapollo  is   a 
picturesque  place,  but  we  sketched  it  hastily, 
and  left  it  at  noon,  expecting  better  things  at 
Barile  and  Rio  Nero.     In  this  hope  we  were 
disappointed.      A   broad   high   way   gradually 
ascends  and  skirts  the  base  of  Monte  Voltore, 
but  although  at  every  turn  a  greater  extent  of 
Apulian  plain  is  unfolded,  yet  the  lines  of  fore- 
ground and  middle  distance  are  awkward  and 
bad.    Barile  (four  miles  from  Rapollo)  possesses 
no  beauty  worth  a  moment's  delay,  although  it 
is  one  of  the  Greek  or  Albanian  settlements 
of  the    Regno,  and    I    had  expected   to   see 
somewhat  of  costume.      A  vain  hope!     The 


264  JOURNALS  OF 

inhabitants  still  speak  their  own  language, 
but  they  have  entirely  dropped  all  distinction 
of  dress. 

Another  mile  brought  us  to  the  large  and 
populous  town  of  Rio  Nero,  standing  at  a 
considerable  elevation  on  the  base  of  Monte 
Voltore,  which  rises  above  it  not  unlike 
Vesuvius  above  Pompeii,  and  overlooking  the 
plain  southward  towards  Atella  and  Lago 
Pesole.  If  the  provincial  splendours  of  the 
Casa  Rapolla  had  surprised  us,  what  were  they 
in  comparison  to  the  rich  mansion  of  Don 
Pasqualuccio  Catena,  whither  we  had  been 
directed  by  Signer  Manassei,  whom  we  found 
awaiting  us  with  his  son  Pirrho.  Here  were 
halls  and  anterooms,  and  a  whole  suite  of 
apartments  for  ourselves  fitted  up  as  well  as 
those  of  any  of  the  first  palazzi  of  the  capital. 
When  dinner  was  over  (the  least  pleasing 
accompaniment  of  which  was  the  presence  of  a 
great  Barbary  ape,  who  made  convulsive  flings 
and  bounces  to  his  chain's  length,  and  shrieked 

amain),  P and  I  took  an  hour's  walk  about 

the  environs  of  this  increasing  and  prospering 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  265 

place ;  but  vainly  did  we  search  for  any  view  to 
draw.  Kio  Nero  is  not  beautiful  to  the  eye; 
so  we  adjourned,  with  the  family  of  Don  Pas- 
qualuccio,  to  the  house  of  his  brother  Don 
Tom  mas  'Antonio — a  palazzo  still  finer  than  his 
own.  Here  were  long  galleries  and  large 
rooms,  empty  of  all  but  a  circle  of  sofas,  and 
glittering  in  all  the  novelty  and  magnificence 
of  blue  and  gold  papers,  pedestals  and  busts, 
cornices  and  mirrors ;  and  at  the  end  of  these 
apartments  was  one  of  still  larger  dimensions 
and  supereminent  splendour,  where  a  grand 
pianoforte  stood  the  centre  of  the  scene.  The 
lady  of  the  house  sang  and  played  fifteen  songs 
with  terrible  energy,  and  the  master  played 
four  solos  on  the  flute ;  after  which  they  per- 
formed three  extensive  duets,  till  the  night 
wore,  and  it  was  time  to  depart ;  but  as  it 
began  to  rain  a  little,  these  extremely  obliging 
people  ordered  out  their  carriage  and  horses, 
and  we  were  driven  back  to  our  host's  two 
streets  off.  Such  are  the  quasi-metropolitan 
"  finezze  "  of  Kio  Nero,*  a  place  full  of  thriving 


See  note,  p.  280. 


266  JOURNALS  OF 

merchants  and  possidenti,  and  rapidly  rising  as 
a  commercial  community  by  the  production 
and  manufacture  of  silk,  and  other  articles  of 
luxury. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  267 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Visit  to  the  Monastery  of  San  Michele  del  Voltore. — Beautiful  woods. — Ex- 
quisite scenery,  and  position  of  the  Convent. — The  Lake. — The  Festa 
— The  Pilgrims. — Thoughtful  attentions  of  Don  Pasqualuccio  Catena. 
— Rain. — Noisy  night  neighbours. — Another  morning  at  the  Lake  and 
Convent. — We  leave  San  Michele. — Extreme  loveliness  of  the  scene. — 
Return  to  Rio  Nero. — Road  to  Atella. — Arrive  at  Castel  del  Lago  Pesole. 
— Its  situation  and  slender  claims  to  the  picturesque. — Italian  evening. — 
Filippopoli.  —  Departure  from  Castel  del  Lago  Pesole.  —  Avigliano.  — 
Potenza. —  Vietri  di  Basilicata. — Beautiful  scenery. — EbolL  —  Pesto. — 
Return  to  Naples. — Accounts  of  the  late  earthquakes  at  Melfi,  &c.  &c. 

September  28. — To-morrow  being  the  great 
F£sta  of  San  Michele,  all  the  population  of 
the  surrounding  country  usually  flock  to  the 
monastery,  and  if  we  should  be  fortunate 
enough  to  have  fine  weather,  all  the  world  says 
it  is  one  of  the  prettiest  sights  in  southern 
Italy. 

We  set  off  early,  with  a  guardiano  and  a  man 
on  foot,  and  at  first  the  road,  winding  round 
the  volcanic  mountain,  was  not  interesting: 


268  JOURNALS  OF 

but  when  we  had  reached  the  western  side  of 
the  hill,  we  entered  most  beautiful  beech- 
woods,  which  continued  increasing  in  thickness 
and  size  as  we  advanced.  The  path  through 
these  shady  forests  turns  inward  to  a  deep  dell 
or  hollow,  formerly  the  principal  crater  of  the 
volcano ;  and  soon  through  the  branches  of 
the  tall  trees  we  saw  the  sparkling  Lake  of 
Monticchio,  and  the  Monastery  of  San  Michele 
reflected  in  its  waters.  A  more  exquisite  spe- 
cimen of  monastic  solitude  cannot  be  imagined. 
Built  against  great  masses  of  rock  which  project 
over  and  seem  to  threaten  the  edifice ;  the 
convent  (itself  a  picture)  stands  immediately 
above  a  steep  slope  of  turf,  which,  descending 
to  the  lake,  is  adorned  by  groups  of  immense 
walnut-trees.  High  over  the  rocks  above  the 
convent  the  highest  peak  of  Monte  Voltore 
rises  into  air,  clad  entirely  with  thick  wood: 
dense  wood  also  clothes  the  slopes  of  the  hill, 
which  spread  as  it  were  into  wings  on  each  side 
of  the  lakes.  The  larger  sheet  of  water  is  not 
very  unlike  Nemi,  on  a  small  scale — only  that 
the  absence  of  any  but  the  one  solitary  building, 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  269 

and  the  entire  shutting  out  of  all  distance, 
makes  the  quiet  romance  of  S.  Michele  and  its 
lake  complete.  Great  numbers  of  peasants 
were  arriving  and  encamping  below  the  tall 
walnut-trees,  forming  a  Fair,  after  the  usual 
mode  of  Italians  at  their  F£ste  ;  the  costumes 
individually  were  not  very  striking,  but  the 
general  effect  of  the  scene,  every  part  of  it  being 
clearly  reflected  in  the  water,  was  as  perfectly 
beautiful  as  any  I  ever  saw.  We  visited  the 
chapel  and  the  dark  grotto  of  the  patron 
saint  (but  the  crowd  of  pilgrims  in  these  cases 
makes  this  no  pleasing  part  of  Festa  duty),  and 
at  noon,  after  drawing  until  rain  began  to  fall, 
we  came  in  to  our  two  cells,  which  were  already 
well  cleaned  out  by  the  care  of  Don  Pasqua- 
luccio  Catena,  and  arranged  for  our  comfort 
with  the  addition  of  a  large  dinner  sent  ready 
cooked  from  Rio  Nero. 

Alas !  there  was  heavy  rain  all  the  afternoon, 
quite  deranging  the  peasant-encampment  and 
Fair :  all  those,  and  they  were  many,  who  could 
not  be  accommodated  within  the  walls  of  the 
monastery,  returned  ere  the  daylight  faded  away 


270  JOURNALS  OF 

to  their  respective  homes,  and  no  others  supplied 
their  places,  so  that  the  numerous  body  of 
pilgrims  who  should  have  been  the  chief  charm 
of  the  scene  was  wanting.  Neither  could  we 
do  more  than  sketch  hastily  between  the 
showers  :  but  we  wandered  about  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  this  most  beautiful  of  places, 
enjoying  its  variety  of  aspects  with  infinite 
pleasure. 

The  long  passage  or  gallery  adjoining  our 
rooms  was  full  of  peasants,  sheltered  from  the 
weather  by  the  monks  of  the  convent,  and  during 
half  the  night,  their  jovial  festivities  were 
very  noisy,  not  to  speak  of  the  proximity  to 
our  chamber  door  of  asses  and  mules,  which 
frequently  brayed  and  outnoised  the  clamour  of 
an  improvisatore,  and  four  or  five  zampognari 
in  full  practice,  as  well  as  some  large  choral 
parties  employed  in  singing,  in  a  very  terrestrial 
manner,  spiritual  songs  concerning  the  miracles 
of  S.  Michele. 

September  29.  —  It  rained  all  night,  and 
chillingly  damp  were  the  woods  of  Monte 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  271 

Voltore  at  sunrise — yet  as  the  day  wore  on,  the 
sun  brightened  everything,  and  numbers  of 
peasants  arrived  ere  midday  was  passed. 

In  the  afternoon  we  left  San  Michele.  As 
we  returned  by  the  beech-woods  of  the  great 
dell,  nothing  could  be  prettier  than  the  view 
of  the  convent  through  the  foliage,  the  blue 
smoke  from  the  peasant-fires  on  the  green 
glades  rising  filmily  among  the  high  woody 
hills, — the  hundreds  of  people  in  many-coloured 
dresses  on  the  green  sward  beneath,  and  the 
numerously  windowed  monastery  beneath  the 
great  rocks — all  clearly  reflected  in  the  watery 
mirror  below. 

We  reached  Kio  Nero  by  sunset,  where  our 
good  hosts  were  as  usual  hospitable  and 
attentive,  and  appeared  greatly  charmed  by 
our  expressions  of  pleasure  at  the  result  of 
our  visit  to  the  convent — the  great  lion  of  the 
northern  part  of  Basilicata. 

September  30. — At  sunrise  we  were  ready  to 
start  in  our  entertainer's  own  carriage,  accom- 
panied by  the  good-natured  Don  Pasqualuccio 


272  JOURNALS  OF 

on  our  way  as  far  as  Atella  (two  or  three  miles 
distant  from  Kio  Nero),  a  picturesque  but 
melancholy  town,  lying  lowest  of  all  those 
placed  on  the  slope  of  Monte  Voltore,  and 
indeed  almost  on  the  plain.  Here  we  found 
a  guardiano  with  horses  waiting  to  take  us 
on  to  Castel  del  Lago  Pesole,*  the  last  of 
Prince  Doria  Pamfili's  possessions  in  this 
part  of  Italy  which  we  had  arranged  to 
visit. 

The  castle  on  its  elevated  hill  was  soon  in 
sight,  and  perhaps  from  a  considerable  distance 
it  is  better  worth  the  trouble  of  drawing  than 
on  a  nearer  approach.  It  was  a  favourite  resort 
of  the  Emperor  Frederick  II.  as  a  hunting-seat 
(its  surrounding  territory  is  still  famous  for 
game),  and  in  later  days  inhabited  by  Queen 
Joan  ;  but  this  ancient  place  has  no  pretensions 
to  beauty,  nor,  excepting  from  the  south  whence 
it  combines  as  part  of  the  landscape  with  the 
plain  and  Monte  Voltore  beyond,  is  it  in  any 


*  Castel  del  Lago  Pesole  is  reputed  to  have  been  built  by  the 
Emperor  Frederick  II. ;  but  according  to  Antonini  it  is  of  much 
older  date.  Frederick  probably  rebuilt  or  enlarged  it. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  273 

way  picturesque :  the  lines  around  are  desolate 
and  bare  of  interest,  and  the  lake  (or  rather 
marsh)  from  which  it  derives  its  name,  lies 
altogether  hidden  in  the  wooden  tract  below 
the  castle  hill. 

We  found  our  Melfi  friend,  Signor  Manassei, 
and  his  son,  staying  at  the  castle,  which  in  its 
interior  is  modernised  and  comfortable,  but  so 
little  is  there  of  interest  either  outside  or  in, 
that  for  once  we  could  not  find  wherewithal 
to  employ  our  pencils  during  the  afternoon. 
Below  the  castle  is  a  small  village  of  cottages, 
increasing  under  the  care  of  the  active  and 
social  Signor  Vittorio  Manassei,  who  has  named 
it  Filipopoli,  in  honour  of  the  present 
possessor  of  the  estate.  As  the  sun  set  we 
sate  upon  the  treeless  slope  opposite  the  un- 
picturesque  castle,  which,  indeed,  has  greatly 
disappointed  us ;  yet,  at  this  hour,  there  was 
the  inevitable  charm  which  eventide  in  Italy 
brings  even  to  the  least  promising  scenery; 
the  deep  purple  Monte  Voltore,  its  long  lines 
blending  with  the  plain,  across  which  the  last 
crimson  lights  were  flickering ;  the  dark  copse- 


274  JOURNALS  OF 

wood  around ;  the  smoke  rising  from  the 
hamlet  of  Filipopoli ;  the  goats  and  flocks 
wandering  in  the  valley-common  below, — these, 
joined  to  somewhat  of  a  wild- world  solitude 
in  the  scene,  threw  a  sentiment  of  beauty  even 
over  Castel  del  Lago  P£sole. 

October  1. — We  set  out  on  our  return  to 
Naples.  Signor  Manassei  and  his.  son  accom- 
panied us  in  a  carriage  ;  and  first  we  wound  up 
by  a  good  road  to  the  top  of  the  hill  called 
Delia  Madonna  del  Carmine,  whence  we  took 
leave  of  Monte  Voltore,  and  the  seaward  plain 
of  Basilicata,  Beyond  this,  the  mountains  of 
Principa to  Ultra  were  very  interesting ;  glimpses 
of  blue  worlds  of  light  and  shade,  enchanting 
vales  and  hollows,  which  we  longed  to  penetrate. 

At  Avigliano  we  left  Signor  Manassei,  and 
drove  on  to  Potenza,  the  present  capital  of  the 
province,  and  as  ugly  a  town  for  form,  detail, 
and  situation,  as  one  might  wish  to  avoid. 
Here  we  hired  a  caratella  to  take  us  to 
Eboli  (for  seven  ducats),  and  merely  resting 
to  dine,  drove  on  towards  Vietri  di  Basilicata, 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  275 

where    we    arrived    late    and  halted    for   the 

night. 

- 
October  2. — Vietri  di  Basilicata  appears  full 

of  really  fine  scenery  and  material  for  good 
landscape,  and  left  a  strong  impression  of 
beauty  on  our  minds,  though  every  succeeding 
hour  brought  fresh  charms  to  view.  It  is 
hardly  possible  to  find  a  more  beautiful  day's 
drive  in  any  part  of  the  Regno  di  Napoli  than 
this,  the  road  passing  through  a  constant 
succession  of  lovely  scenes  till  it  reaches  Eboli. 
At  sunset  the  blue  gulf  of  Salerno  was  visible, 
and  we  soon  reached  the  convent-inn  of  Eboli ; 
which  ten  years  ago  I  can  recoUect  thinking  a 
horrible  place,  though  it  seems  to  me  now 
rather  a  comfortable  inn. 

October  4. — Yesterday  we  passed  at  Paestum : 
— the  morning  drive  by  the  beautiful  Persano 
and  its  plain ;  the  hours  of  lingering  among 
the  bright  soli tudes  of  ancient  Posidonium ;  the 
return  at  evening  when  the  western  sun  was 
golden,  and  the  mountains  fading  red ;  the 
bustling  and  noisy  Salerno  by  night. 


276  JOURNALS  OF 

To-day — by  beautiful  La  Cava,  and  crowded 
Nocera,  and  "  railroad "  from  Pompeii  to  Par- 
thenope. 

Our  tour  is  done  :  it  has  wanted  the  romance 
of  Calabria,  and  something  has  it  been  too 
hurried  : — yet  it  has  had  its  pleasures,  and  has 
added  many  agreeable  memories  to  an  already 
large  store. 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  277 


NOTE. 

FOUR  years  after  the  above  journals  were 
written,  namely,  on  the  14th  August,  1851, 
a  frightful  earthquake  visited  the  provinces  of 
the  Regno  di  Napoli,  which  are  partly  described 
in  them,  and  the  centre  of  this  alarming  con- 
vulsion appears  to  have  been  the  unfortunate 
city  of  Melfi.  I  subjoin  the  following  extract 
(No.  1),  out  of  many  which  have  appeared  in 
the  public  papers,  which  will  give  some  idea 
of  the  sad  change  which  has  passed  over  places 
so  full  of  prosperity  and  enjoyment  at  the 
time  of  our  visit  in  1847.  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  the  account  quoted  below  (No.  1) 
is  in  some  respects  exaggerated,  but  at  all 
events  the  calamity  has  been  most  fearful.  On 
reading  this  and  other  notices  of  the  event 
in  October  last,  I  wrote  to  Signer  Vittorio 


278  JOURNALS  OF 

Manassei,  who  most  obligingly  forwarded  me 
a  letter  from  which  I  have  extracted  all  which 
bears  on  the  subject  (No.  2).  His  occupation 
as  agent  for  the  estates  of  Prince  Doria  occa- 
sioning him  to  reside  generally  on  the  spot, 
his  relation  of  the  casualties  may  be  fully 
depended  on,  both  as  to  the  number  of  lives 
lost  at  Melfi,  and  with  regard  to  Barile,  which 
I  cannot  help  thinking  he  would  have  men- 
tioned had  it  met  with  the  fate  stated  in 
the  notice  extracted  from  the  "  Athena3um 
Journal." 

No.  1. 
From  the  Athenaeum  Journal,  September  13,  1851. 

NAPLES,  August  27,  1851. 

The  details  of  the  terrible  earthquake  which  took  place  at  Melfi 
on  the  fourteenth  of  this  month  reach  Naples  but  slowly.  Each 
post  brings  notice  of  an  accumulated  amount  of  suifering,  an 
augmented  list  of  deaths,  aud  particulars  of  a  devastation  far 
surpassing  anything  that  has  occurred  in  the  Italian  peninsula  for 
many  years.  I  have  seen  several  persons  from  Melfi,  and  from 
their  narratives  will  endeavour  to  give  you  some  idea  of  this  awful 
visitation. 

The  morning  of  the  14th  of  August  was  very  sultry,  and  a 
leaden  atmosphere  prevailed.  It  was  remarked  that  an  unusual 
silence  appeared  to  extend  over  the  animal  world.  The  hum 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  279 

of  insects  ceased,  the  feathered  tribes  were  mute,  not  a  breath  of 
wind  moved  the  arid  vegetation.  About  half-past  two  o'clock 
the  town  of  Melfi  rocked  for  about  six  seconds,  and  nearly  every 
building  fell  in.  The  number  of  edifices  actually  levelled  with 
the  earth  is  163,  of  those  partially  destroyed  98,  and  slightly 
damaged  180.  Five  monastic  establishments  were  destroyed,  and 
seven  churches,  including  the  cathedral.  The  awful  event  occurred 
at  a  time  when  most  of  the  inhabitants  of  a  better  condition  were 
at  dinner ;  and  the  result  is,  that  out  of  the  whole  population 
only  a  few  peasants  labouring  in  the  fields  escaped.  More  than 
700  dead  bodies  have  already  been  dug  out  of  the  ruins,  and 
it  is  supposed  that  not  less  than  800  are  yet  entombed.  A  college 
accommodating  65  boys  and  their  teachers  is  no  longer  traceable. 
But  the  melancholy  event  does  not  end  here.  The  adjoining  village 
of  Ascoli  has  also  suffered,  32  houses  having  fallen  in,  and  the 
church  being  levelled  with  the  ground.  More  than  200  persons 
perished  there.  Another  small  town,  Barile,  has  actually  disap- 
peared ;  and  a  lake  has  arisen  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  the 
waters  being  warm  and  brackish. 

I  proceed  to  give  a  few  anecdotes  as  narrated  by  persons  who 
have  arrived  in  Naples  from  the  scene  of  horror. — "  I  was  tra- 
velling," says  one,  "  within  a  mile  of  Melfi,  when  I  observed 
three  cars  drawn  by  oxen.  In  a  moment  the  two  most  distant 
fell  into  the  earth :  from  the  third  I  observed  a  man  and  a  boy 
descend  and  run  into  a  vineyard  which  skirted  the  road.  Shortly 
after,  I  think  about  three  seconds,  the  third  car  was  swallowed 
up.  We  stopped  our  carriage,  and  proceeded  to  the  spot  where 
the  man  and  boy  stood.  The  former  I  found  stupified — he  was 
both  deaf  and  dumb ;  the  boy  appeared  to  be  out  of  his  mind,  and 
spoke  wildly,  but  eventually  recovered.  The  poor  man  still 
remains  speechless."  Another  informant  says: — "Melfi,  and 
all  around,  present  a  singular  and  melancholy  appearance ;  houses 
levelled  or  partially  fallen  in,  here  and  there  the  ground  broken 
up,  large  gaps  displaying  volcanic  action,  people  wandering  about 
stupified,  men  searching  in  the  ruins,  women  weeping,  children 


280  JOURNALS  OF 

here  and  there  crying  for  their  parents,  and  some  wretched 
examples  of  humanity  carrying  off"  articles  of  furniture.  The 
authorities  are  nowhere  to  be  found."  A  third  person  states, 
— "I  am  from  Melfi,  and  was  near  a  monastery  when  the  earth- 
quake occurred.  A  peasant  told  me  that  the  water  in  a  neigh- 
bouring well  was  quite  hot ;  a  few  moments  after  I  saw  the 
monastery  fall.  I  fell  on  the  ground  and  saw  nothing  more.  I 
thought  I  had  had  a  fit." 

No.  2. 
From  a  letter  written  ly  Signor  Vittorio  Manassei,  March  27, 1852. 

"  That  although  the  Castle  of  Melfi  has  been  ruined  by  the 
earthquake  of  August  the  14th,  1851,  at  least  one-fifth  part  of 
it  having  been  thrown  down,  namely,  the  towers  of  the  outer  side, 
with  much  of  the  modern  palace,  the  great  gallery,  the  rooms 
occupied  by  II  Signor  Lear,  the  other  gallery,  and  all  that  side  of 
the  building  occupied  by  the  family :  yet,  notwithstanding,  no 
person  who  was  in  the  castle  at  the  time  of  the  earthquake 
perished,  every  individual  having  been  enabled  to  escape  into  the 
vine-garden  after  the  first  shock,  and  before  the  second  commenced, 
by  which  all  the  walls  already  shaken  by  the  first  undulating 
movement  were  at  once  overthrown. 

"  That  the  campanile  of  the  cathedral  fell  down  to  one-third  of 
its  height :  that  the  octagonal  church,  and  the  great  Casa  Manna, 
(both  of  which  are  particularly  marked  in  one  of  the  views 
taken  by  Signor  Lear  on  the  spot)  exist  no  longer.  Such  is  the 
case  also  with  the  Town  Hall,  (Palazzo  Pubblico)  the  Palazzi 
Aquilecchia-Aranea,  Severini,  and  many  others.  Thus  it  is  too, 
almost  without  exception,  with  all  the  smaller  houses  of  Melfi, 
which  are  all  of  them  destroyed ;  and  when  Signor  L.  was  at  Melfi, 
they  were  building  (he  may  perhaps  recollect)  a  great  Taverna ; 
this,  but  lately  completed,  was  greatly  frequented  by  passengers 
— and  at  the  first  shock  of  the  earthquake  there  perished  in  it 
62  individuals,  and  25  horses;  this  building  is  now  literally 


A  LANDSCAPE  PAINTER.  281 

a  shapeless  heap  of  stones.  Not  more  than  840  persons  were  killed 
in  Melfi. 

"  At  Venosa,  though  the  earthquake  was  very  sensibly  felt,  no 
loss  of  life  occurred,  and  the  family  of  Signor  Rapolla  were  not 
sufferers  in  any  way. 

"  At  Eio  Nero,  the  palazzo  of  the  Signor  Catena  (where  Signor 
Lear  was  staying)  fell  down,  except  the  lower  floor,  but  no  one 
of  that  family  was  killed.  In  the  town,  between  90  and  100 
lost  their  lives. 

"  In  Atella,  comparatively  little  damage  was  done.  San  Michele, 
that  is  the  church,  of  Monte  Voltore  fell  down,  but  the  monastery 
itself  was  hardly  injured. 

"  At  the  Castle  of  Lago  Pesole,  (where  Signor  Vittorio  Manassei 
happened  to  be  at  the  time  of  the  earthquake)  the  shocks  were 
much  felt ;  but  though  the  older  part  of  the  building  was  greatly 
shaken,  the  inhabited  side  was  hardly  affected. 

"  At  Monteverde,  and  at  Lacedogna,  but  little  injury  resulted 
from  the  shocks ;  and  although  all  the  towns  from  Atella  in  a  line 
to  the  Adriatic  were  more  or  less  visited,  yet  but  few  were 
damaged  beyond  Melfi.  Minervino,  and  all  the  surrounding 
places  known  to  Signor  L.,  escaped  injury. 

«  NAPLES,  March  27,  1852." 


INDEX  OF  PLACES. 


AGNANO,  133 
Amendolia,  32 
Ardore,  89 

Aspromonte,  76 — 147 
AteUa,  271 
Avellino,  211,  215 
Avigliano,  273 

BAGALADI,  22—24 
Bagnara,  173, 174 
Barile,  263 
Basilicata,  236 
Basilico,  182 
Bazzano,  112 
Bianco,  63 
Bisaccia,  229—231 
Bova,  33—43 
Bovalino,  81—88 
Brancaleone,  56 
Bruzzano,  59 

CALABBIA  la  Ulteriore,  2 
Calanna,  182 
Canalo,  135—140 
Capo  dell'  armi,  185 
Casignano,  64 


Castel  del  Monte,  248,  252 
Castel  Lago  Pesole,  271 
Castel  Nuovo,  152—158 
Castel  S.  Nocito,  14—198 
Castel  Vetere,  117—122 
Condufori,  28—30 

EBOLI,  276 

FEEEUZZANO,  61 
Frigento,  218 

GALLICO,  182 
Gerace,  90—141 
Gioiosa,  122,  123 
Gioja,  166 
Grotta  Minarda,  216 

LACEDOGNA,  232 
LaveUo,  243 

MELFI,  236—241,  279 

Melito,  185 
Minervino,  245 
Mofette,  222 
Montalto,  76—147 


284 


INDEX  OF  PLACES. 


Montebello,  193 
Montemilone,  254 
Monteverde,  234 
Montevergine,  213 
Monte  Voltore,  234—270 
Motta  Placanica,  116 
Motta  S.  Giovanni,  14 

NOCEEA,  210 
OPPIDO,  160 

PAI/IZZI,  45 
Palmi,  168 
Pentedatilo,  190 
Pesto,  274 

Pietrapennata,  49 — 56 
Polistena,  157 
Potenza,  273 

EADICENA,  159 

EapoUo,  262 

Eeggio,    4  —  12,    179  — 182, 

199—203 
Eionero,  263—265 
Eiver  Alaro,  105 

„    Alice,  190 

„     Marro,  163 


Eiver  Merico,  90 

„     Novito,  98 

„     Ofanto,  235 

„     Eomano,  122 

„     Stillaro,  109— 115 
Eocca  S.  Felice,  225 
Eocella,  99—105 

S.  AGATA,  65 

S.  Angelo  de'  Lombardi,  225 

S.  Georgio,  155 

S.  Luca,  67—70 

S.  Michele,  267 

S.  M.  di  Polsi,  72—78 

Salerno,  274 

Scilla,  175 

Siderno,  98 

Staiti,  51—58 

Stignano,  106—109 

Stilo,  110—114 

TEEEANOVA,  159 
Tor  di  Gerace,  89 

V.  S.  GIOVANNI,  178 
V.  S.  Lorenzo,  23 
Venosa,  255 
Vietri  di  Basilicata,  274 


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