Leone Da Morano, Who Died In
1645, Belonged To This Congregation, And Was Reputed An Erudite
Ecclesiastic.
The life of one of its greatest luminaries, Fra Bernardo
da Rogliano, was described by Tufarelli in a volume which I have never
been able to catch sight of.
It must be very rare, yet it certainly was
printed. [Footnote: Haym has no mention of this work. But it is fully
quoted in old Toppi's "Biblioteca" (p. 317), and also referred to in
Savonarola's "Universus Terrarum," etc. (1713, Vol. I, p. 216). Both say
it was printed at Cosenza; the first, in 1650; the second, in 1630.]
The path ascends now through a long and wearisome limestone gap called
Valle di Gaudolino, only the last half-hour of the march being shaded by
trees. It was in this gully that an accidental encounter took place
between a detachment of French soldiers and part of the band of the
celebrated brigand Scarolla, whom they had been pursuing for months all
over the country. The brigands were sleeping when the others fell upon
them, killing numbers and carrying off a large booty; so rich it was,
that the soldiers were seen playing at "petis palets" - whatever that may
be - with quadruples of Spain - whatever that may be. Scarolla escaped
wounded, but was afterwards handed over to justice, for a consideration
of a thousand ducats, by some shepherds with whom he had taken refuge;
and duly hanged. His band consisted of four thousand ruffians; it was
one of several that infested south Italy. This gives some idea of the
magnitude of the evil.
It was my misfortune that after weeks of serene weather this particular
morning should be cloudy. There was sunshine in the valley below, but
wreaths of mist were skidding over the summit of Pollino; the view, I
felt sure, would be spoilt. And so it was. Through swiftly-careering
cloud-drifts I caught glimpses of the plain and the blue Ionian; of the
Sila range confronting me; of the peak of Dolcedorme to the left, and
the "Montagna del Principe" on the right; of the large forest region at
my back. Tantalizing visions!
Viewed from below, this Pollino is shaped like a pyramid, and promises
rather a steep climb over bare limestone; but the ascent is quite easy.
No trees grow on the pyramid. The rock is covered with a profusion of
forget-me-nots and gay pansies; some mez-ereon and a few dwarfed
junipers - earthward-creeping - nearly reach the summit. When I passed
here on a former trip, on the 6th of June, this peak was shrouded in
snow. There are some patches of snow even now, one of them descending in
glacier fashion down the slope on the other side; they call it
"eternal," but I question whether it will survive the heats of autumn.
Beyond a brace of red-legged partridges, I saw no birds whatever. This
group of Pollino, descending its seven thousand feet in a precipitous
flight of terraces to the plain of Sibari, is an imposing finale to
the Apennines that have run hitherward, without a break, from Genoa and
Bologna.
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