Old Calabria

Old Calabria, by Norman
Douglas

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Title: Old Calabria
Author: Norman Douglas
Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7385] [This file was first posted

on April 23, 2003]
Edition: 10
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, OLD
CALABRIA ***

Eric Eldred

OLD CALABRIA
BY NORMAN DOUGLAS

CONTENTS
I. SARACEN LUCERA
II. MANFRED'S TOWN
III. THE ANGEL OF MANFREDONIA
IV. CAVE-WORSHIP
V. LAND OF HORACE
VI. AT VENOSA
VII. THE BANDUSIAN FOUNT
VIII. TILLERS OF THE SOIL

IX. MOVING SOUTHWARDS
X. THE FLYING MONK
XI. BY THE INLAND SEA
XII. MOLLE TARENTUM
XIII. INTO THE JUNGLE
XIV. DRAGONS
XV. BYZANTINISM
XVI. REPOSING AT CASTROVILLARI
XVII. OLD MORANO
XVIII. AFRICAN INTRUDERS
XIX. UPLANDS OF POLLINO
XX. A MOUNTAIN FESTIVAL
XXI. MILTON IN CALABRIA
XXII. THE "GREEK" SILA
XXIII. ALBANIANS AND THEIR COLLEGE
XXIV. AN ALBANIAN SEER
XXV. SCRAMBLING TO LONGOBUCCO
XXVI. AMONG THE BRUTTIANS
XXVII. CALABRIAN BRIGANDAGE
XXVIII. THE GREATER SILA

XXIX. CHAOS
XXX. THE SKIRTS OF MONTALTO
XXXI. SOUTHERN SAINTLINESS
XXXII. ASPROMONTE, THE CLOUD-GATHERER
XXXIII. MUSOLINO AND THE LAW
XXXIV. MALARIA
XXXV. CAULONIA TO SERRA
XXXVI. MEMORIES OF GISSING
XXXVII. COTRONE
XXXVIII. THE SAGE OF CROTON
XXXIX. MIDDAY AT PETELIA
XL. THE COLUMN
INDEX.

OLD CALABRIA
I
SARACEN LUCERA
I find it hard to sum up in one word the character of Lucera--the effect
it produces on the mind; one sees so many towns that the freshness of
their images becomes blurred. The houses are low but not undignified;
the streets regular and clean; there is electric light and somewhat
indifferent accommodation for travellers; an infinity of barbers and
chemists. Nothing remarkable in all this. Yet the character is there, if

one could but seize upon it, since every place has its genius. Perhaps it
lies in a certain feeling of aloofness that never leaves one here. We are
on a hill--a mere wave of ground; a kind of spur, rather, rising up from,
the south--quite an absurd little hill, but sufficiently high to dominate
the wide Apulian plain. And the nakedness of the land stimulates this
aerial sense. There are some trees in the "Belvedere" or public garden
that lies on the highest part of the spur and affords a fine view north
and eastwards. But the greater part were only planted a few years ago,
and those stretches of brown earth, those half-finished walks and
straggling pigmy shrubs, give the place a crude and embryonic
appearance. One thinks that the designers might have done more in the
way of variety; there are no conifers excepting a few cryptomerias and
yews which will all be dead in a couple of years, and as for those
yuccas, beloved of Italian municipalities, they will have grown more
dyspeptic-looking than ever. None the less, the garden will be a
pleasant spot when the ilex shall have grown higher; even now it is the
favourite evening walk of the citizens. Altogether, these public parks,
which are now being planted all over south Italy, testify to renascent
taste; they and the burial-places are often the only spots where the
deafened and light-bedazzled stranger may find a little green content;
the content, respectively, of L'Allegro and Il Penseroso. So the
cemetery of Lucera, with its ordered walks drowned in the shade of
cypress--roses and gleaming marble monuments in between--is a
charming retreat, not only for the dead.
The Belvedere, however, is not my promenade. My promenade lies
yonder, on the other side of the valley, where the grave old Suabian
castle sits on its emerald slope. It does not frown; it reposes firmly,
with an air of tranquil and assured domination; "it has found its place,"
as an Italian observed to me. Long before Frederick Barbarossa made it
the centre of his southern dominions, long before the Romans had their
fortress on the site, this eminence must have been regarded as the key
of Apulia. All