The Silver Bayonet: Italy – Introduction

With The Silver Bayonet: Italy out now, here's a sneak peek at the book's introduction where author T.C. Stephen dives into the unique setting of Calabria...

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“Wishing, however, to acquire some better information respecting Calabria than was to be found in reports, which are often exaggerated, I sought for it in vain through all principal booksellers’ shops in this city [of Naples]. I was assured that there did not exist any particular description of this part of Italy. It appears that the fear of the banditti, and the extreme difficulty of the roads, have prevented travellers from penetrating into it.”
– Duret de Tavel, 1807

During the Napoleonic period, foreigners understood Calabria to be Europe’s terra incognita. In the imaginations of those alien to it, Calabria was made of a dichotomous concoction of both wondrous beauty and terrible danger. The primary sources of information about the region for 18th and early 19th century readers came from travel diaries, of which only a handful existed. It was portrayed as a lush, agrarian hinterland, devoid of what educated Europeans would consider civilisation, and yet populated by a friendly, albeit impoverished and superstitious, people with bizarre customs and traditions. Thus, for the typical educated person of the age, Calabria was a curiosity, rooted in ancient Magna Graecia, but impractical to visit.

According to these writers, those who dared venture forth from the main cities would find many small hamlets full of worn stone houses and churches – some of a partially stuccoed countenance – climbing up hillsides or resting upon the butte of tall ridges. Peach-coloured barrel clay tiles, some bleached and dirty from the years of abuse by the rough Calabrian climates, cover the roofs of buildings.

To reach these locales, the traveller, denied paved roads, would instead have had to use the picturesque dirt paths, hewn into the soil by centuries of heavy wear, that wound through a scenic backcountry. The lucky explorer might also have happened across ancient Greek or Roman ruins, testament to Calabria’s antiquity. At the highest centres of many of these towns stood the remains of gaunt Norman castles, lost to centuries of neglect.

One finds that the Calabrese are welcoming and accommodating, so long as you are respectful, at least that was the way they were described by these travel writers. It is best not to offend, lest a pugnale (a type of Calabrian peasant fighting knife) finds its mark. Despite the risk, the reader is told, one is greeted with intrigued smiles on Calabrian faces, though it may be that a few wandering eyes linger upon a traveller’s belongings. Nevertheless, should the traveller be fortunate enough to dine with a local family, they are treated to good food and company before safely being sent on their way.

In some ways, what the armies of Napoleonic Europe would come to discover was not so far from how the travel writers described it. The interior of Calabria was rich with life. Besides the normal fields of grain and bountiful vineyards, one would have been surprised to find crops of maize and cotton growing in the plains. Groves of olive trees, some reported to have been as large as oaks, and orchards of orange and lemon trees were to be found on the slopes around towns.

Thanks to the Southern Apennines, those visiting armies were forced to endure mountainous terrain, with the massive plateau known as La Sila at its centre. Running along these mountains were the substantial, untouched woodlands of pine, chestnut, birch, ash, and cork, though other varieties of flora also abounded. One might even have found the occasional prickly pear cactus (brought to Italy in the 15th century) poking through underbrush.

Besides exports in wine and olive oil, Calabria also had a massive silk industry. Since the 9th century, millions of silkworms were bred in white mulberry trees, and the threads of their cocoons were woven by artisans in towns across Calabria – though primarily in Catanzaro – famous for the production of fine silk goods. The trail through these towns gained the name ‘the Calabrian silk road’.

All passers-by through Calabria made note of the fact that it was not a monoethnic province. Settlements of both Albanians and Greeks (either from the Byzantine period or, as they would argue, descendants of Magna Graecia) thrived in the region. The Albanians, who immigrated during the 15th century, had done much to maintain their unique culture and heritage, and often found themselves at odds with the briganti and lacked any fear in their dealings with them; they armed themselves well and always defended their lives and property. Those incidents aside, they traded and got along well with the Calabrese.

In truth, Calabria was as lovely as described; its panoramic escapes should have drawn in tourists from across Europe and beyond. Yet something kept them all away – far away. For the few who had undertaken the journey, they would hint at what lingered beyond the greenery and the façade of a gentle landscape.

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“[T]he battalion found itself involved in the defiles of the high mountain [Campo Tenese], the top of which was covered with snow and sleet. According as we advanced, a hailstorm of the most piercing cold pelted incessantly against our limbs, which were already benumbed from crossing the torrent. The tempest still continued to increase in violence, ‘til, sweeping over the immense plateau that crowned the mountain, it blew a tremendous hurricane, terribly grand and appalling. ... We advanced, then, with extreme difficulty, struggling against a furious wind, which dashed its sharp, penetrating hail against our faces. Several soldiers, overcome with cold, and whose energies were exhausted, dropped down from faintness, and perished in the midst of the snow before any assistance could be rendered to them.”
– Duret de Tavel, 1807

As enrapturing as Calabria could be, for those unfamiliar, it could feel as though every part that made it so enchanting also made it treacherous. The dangers of travelling through Calabria during the Napoleonic period were not lost on anyone, even if some had to find out the hard way.

Disease-bearing insects were abundant, especially around the peat bogs and marshy regions during summer. Grazing plains tended to surround these areas, where great herds of buffalo were found, as well as white, long-horned oxen. These creatures were normally docile but, if provoked, had no trouble showing that their horns were not just decorative. Wolves were also in abundance in Calabria, as were bears. So too were deer and squirrels, though one scarcely saw them as often as the Calabrian pig; swine with skin the colour of lava rock and with the supposed ability to determine whether a person was a werewolf. As such, they were often found living within the homes of Calabrian peasants as security against such threats.

It may have surprised the reader to learn that Calabria, despite its southern location, still experienced all four seasons. Spring was, by far, the most agreeable time. The summer months could be oppressive, especially on the marshy plains where noxious odours stagnated. Autumn brought the promise of cooler weather amid the changing leaves, but also the rain. Precipitation amongst the mountains flowed down and swelled the rivers, causing them to become raging torrents, nearly impassable in most places until the spring. The Calabrese used high carts with solid wheels to ford them, but the risk of being swept away was ever-present. Even in Calabria, winters were far from mild, though, thankfully, they were also short. It was best to expect snow, sleet, and hailstorms of the most violent nature; especially in the mountains.

Calabria was also in the path of the scirocco. Dreaded by foreign sojourners and locals alike, this fierce, terrific weather event stemming from Africa occurred at any point between spring and autumn. The scirocco was marked by wind sometimes as strong as a hurricane, bearing heated clouds of dust and a suffocating humidity. These made it tough to breathe, and choked the life of man, beast, and plant. They lasted for days on end; shelter was no guarantee of reprieve as the wind and dust easily penetrated the dwellings found in poor Calabrian villages. It also caused terrible, torrential thunderstorms that drenched the land and turned the ground into a muddy soup, making navigation difficult.

The peninsula also abutted a series of active volcanoes. Besides Vesuvius to its north, from Calabria’s south-western coastline, at the tip of the toe, one could gaze across the Strait of Messina towards Sicily and view Mt. Etna, whose dark plumes of ash and soot streamed out daily, roiling the air around her summit. Eruptions were constant and ferocious. The superstitious Calabrese viewed the volcano with trepidation and awe, but nevertheless went about their daily routines not far from its shadow.

It was because of these volcanoes and the fault lines beneath the surface that the Calabrese were reminded of their presence, even when they could not see them. This was especially true during the timeline of this campaign.

In 1783, a devastating earthquake ravaged Calabria, tearing massive fissures into the earth and scouring deep, seemingly bottomless, crevices into the fertile Calabrian soil. Sand craters, some partially overgrown by the time of our campaign, peppered the topography just waiting for someone to fall in. Tens of thousands of people died when buildings collapsed on them or when the normally firm ground opened and swallowed them whole. The devastation and horror caused by this quake and its deadly aftershocks created countless ruined ghost towns.

If the threat of falling into a hidden abyss, being trapped in quicksand, or suffocating from a dust storm didn’t terrify a traveller enough to stay clear, the roaming bands of brigands often did the trick. Craufurd Tait Ramage, a Scotsman, travelled to Calabria in 1828 on an expedition to visit its ancient sites. However, to his horror, he was frequently warned by locals of the dangers of the briganti and nearly experienced them first-hand on more than one occasion. Though he would still see much of Calabria on his journey there, he lamented (while still praising the hospitality of his hosts), “I cannot say that I am sorry I am now bidding adieu to Calabria… it is harassing to be constantly in the expectation of being either robbed or murdered.”

While there existed plenty of cordial, welcoming people, Southern Italy and Sicily were beset by a tradition of brigandage, or brigantaggio in Italian, heralding back to the Middle Ages. In other parts of the world, banditry would often be limited to a few pesky criminals but, in Southern Italy, this was the culture – a specific way of life – and a newcomer to Calabria would not know immediately who was an innocent farmer and who was a cutthroat Brigante or Brigantessa. In most cases, the farmer was also the Brigante or, at the very least, his relatives were.

Briganti of this period could be true villains in every sense of the word. They pillaged, plundered, ransomed, murdered, and committed a whole host of other ghastly deeds. Calabria especially was considered by many foreigners, and more than a few Neapolitans, to be a lawless place. Anyone unlucky enough to find themselves wandering through the countryside alone would be taking their life into their own hands.

Make no mistake; the Calabria of our campaign is no safe vacation spot. It was wrought with terror and wonder. It is perhaps fitting to end this introduction of Calabria with a famous quote from Edward Lear, who toured the region in 1852, where he writes that Calabria was a mixture of “horrors and magnificence without end.”

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The Silver Bayonet: Italy is out now in the UK and US.

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