Lament over such a proceeding would be idle enough; Catanzaro is the one progressive town of Calabria, and has learnt too thoroughly the spirit of the time to suffer a blocking of its highway by middle-age obstructions.
If a Hellenic or Roman city occupied this breezy summit, it has left no name, and no relics of the old civilization have been discovered here.
Catanzaro was founded in the tenth century, at the same time that Taranto was rebuilt after the Saracen destruction; an epoch of revival for Southern Italy under the vigorous Byzantine rule of Nicephorus Phocas.

From my point of view, the interest of the place suffered because I could attach to it no classic memory.

Robert Guiscard, to be sure, is a figure picturesque enough, and might give play to the imagination, but I care little for him after all; he does not belong to my world.

I had to see Catanzaro merely as an Italian town amid wonderful surroundings.

The natural beauty of the spot amply sufficed to me during the days I spent there, and gratitude for health recovered gave me a kindly feeling to all its inhabitants.
Daylight brought no disillusion as regards natural features.