The Argosy — page 338: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

324 In Sunny Climes. teenth century. It passed through vicissitudes and is now a naval school, The beauty of its architecture remains. But the monks who in the old days were wont to meet the visitor at the small gate leading into the precincts—and which have been placed in the frontispiece to the current number of the Argosy, partly for pic turesque effect, chiefly to indicate what once has been—these monks tread the corridors of the Canonica no more. They have had their day. But this convent is inferior in interest to that of the great Benedictine Monastery of La Cava, situated some miles away from La Cava itself. It dates back to the eleventh century, and like so many of the greater monasteries, is buried in the mountains and surrounded by woods. But these wild spots of gloomy but intense grandeur add the greatest possible charm to those who visit them to-day. Perhaps even the monks of old were wise in their choice : if they must withdraw from the world, better that it should be done completely. Half measures never lead to good results. The walk from Amalfi to the Monastery is very lovely and interesting, and gives you wonderful glimpses of the sea. Here, too, in days not very far off, monks would greet the visitor, with cowl and cloak and sandalled shoon ; and show him many of the inexhaustible treasures of the convent. It possesses forty thousand parchment rolls, sixty thousand MSS. and many other treasures that a whole lifetime could scarcely investigate. Here Tasso was wont to come, when probably he wanted special rest and quiet for his work. And in the village below, Salvator Rosa is said to have lived. The day after our visit to Amalfi, we entered Naples amidst a deluge of rain. That night, all night long, the lightning flashed and played about the heavens, and the thunder crashed and rolled about the heights and hills, echoing from point to point with a force and grandeur that were terrific and sublime. One moment the whole town, the heights, would be lighted up with a blue, intense blaze, clear as daylight; the next moment, utter darkness and silence, succeeded by appalling crashes. The rain came down in torrents, as if the very waterspouts of heaven had been opened. The streets were deserted, the windows seemed all barred and closed. We, on our balcony, appeared the only watchers of the sublime scene. For even Mauleverer, who believes not in romance, and despises every- thing that is emotional, admitted the grandeur of the storm. The whole heavens seemed at times ablaze with lightning ; the whole earth seemed full of sound; that lurid light, that crashing sound, which might well be about to herald in the end of all things. Long we watched and never tired, until the fury was past and the storm had spent itself. Then nature, like a fractious child, tear- stained and repentant, went to rest, and we followed her example. The next morning there was no sound or trace of last night’s rage and battle of the elements. No trace except that freshness which ECOMicbooolkxs.com