Indicating the places where myriads of oysters and mussels are
bred - indeed, if you look at a map you will observe that the whole of
this lagoon, as though to shadow forth its signification, is split up
into two basins like an opened oyster.
Here and there along this beach are fishermen's huts constructed of
tree-stems which are smothered under multitudinous ropes of grass, ropes
of all ages and in every stage of decomposition, some fairly fresh,
others dissolving once more into amorphous bundles of hay. There is a
smack of the stone ages, of primeval lake-dwellings, about these
shelters on the deserted shore; two or three large fetichistic stones
stand near their entrance; wickerwork objects of dark meaning strew the
ground; a few stakes emerge, hard by, out of the placid and oozy waters.
In such a cabin, methinks, dwelt those two old fishermen of
Theocritus - here they lived and slumbered side by side on a couch of sea
moss, among the rude implements of their craft.
The habits of these fisherfolk are antique, because the incidents of
their calling have remained unchanged. Some people have detected traces
of "Greek" in the looks and language of these of Tarante. I can detect
nothing of the kind.
And the same with the rest of the population. Hellenic traits have
disappeared from Tarante, as well they may have done, when one remembers
its history. It was completely latinized under Augustus, and though
Byzantines came hither under Nicephorus Phocas - Benjamin of Tudela says
the inhabitants are "Greeks" - they have long ago become merged into
the Italian element. Only the barbers seem to have preserved something
of the old traditions: grandiloquent and terrible talkers, like the
cooks in Athenasus.
I witnessed an Aristophanic scene in one of their shops lately, when a
simple-minded stranger, a north Italian - some arsenal official - brought
a little boy to have his hair cut "not too short" and, on returning
from a brief visit to the tobacconist next door, found it cropped much
closer than he liked.
"But, damn it," he said (or words to that effect), "I told you not to
cut the hair too short."
The barber, immaculate and imperturbable, gave a preliminary bow. He was
collecting his thoughts, and his breath.
"I say, I told you not to cut it too short. It looks horrible - - "
"Horrible? That, sir - pardon my frankness! - is a matter of opinion. I
fully admit that you desired the child's hair to be cut not too short.
Those, in fact, were your very words. Notwithstanding, I venture to
think you will come round to my point of view, on due reflection, like
most of my esteemed customers. In the first place, there is the
ethnological aspect of the question. You are doubtless sufficiently
versed in history to know that under the late regime it was considered
improper, if not criminal, to wear a moustache. Well, nowadays we think
differently. Which proves that fashions change; yes, they change, sir;
and the wise man bends to them - up to a certain point, of course; up to
a certain reasonable point - - " "But, damn it - - "
"And in favour of my contention that hair should be worn short nowadays,
I need only cite the case of His Majesty the King, whose august head, we
all know, is clipped like that of a racehorse. Horrible (as you call it)
or not, the system has momentarily the approval of royalty, and that
alone should suffice for all loyal subjects to deem it not unworthy of
imitation. Next, there are what one might describe as hygienic and
climatic considerations. Summer is approaching, sir, and apart from
certain unpleasant risks which I need not specify, you will surely agree
with me that the solstitial heat is a needlessly severe trial for a boy
with long hair. My own children are all cropped close, and I have reason
to think they are grateful for it. Why not yours? Boys may differ in
strength or complexion, in moral character and mental attainments, but
they are remarkably unanimous as to what constitutes personal comfort.
And it is obviously the duty of parents to consult the personal comfort
of their offspring - within certain reasonable limits, of course - - "
"But - - "
"Lastly, we come to the much-debated point: I mean the aesthetic side of
the matter. No doubt, to judge by some old pictures such as those of the
renowned Mantegna, there must have been a time when men thought long
hair in children rather beautiful than otherwise. And I am not so
rigorous as to deny a certain charm to these portraits - a charm which is
largely due I fancy, to the becoming costumes of the period. At the same
time - - "
The stranger did not trust himself to listen any longer. He threw down a
coin and walked out of the shop with his son, muttering something not
very complimentary to the barber's female relations.
But the other was quite unmoved. "And after all," he continued,
addressing the half-opened door through which his visitor had fled, "the
true question is this: What is 'too short'? Don't cut it too short,
you said. Che vuol dire? An ambiguous phrase!
"Too short for one man may be too long for another. Everything is
relative. Yes, gentlemen" (turning to myself and his shop-assistant),
"everything on this earth is relative."
With this sole exception, I have hitherto garnered no Hellenic traits in
Taranto.
Visible even from Giadrezze, on the other side of the inland sea and
beyond the arsenal, there stands a tall, solitary palm. It is the last,
the very last, or almost the very last, of a race of giants that adorned
the gardens which have now been converted into the "New Quarter." I
imagine it is the highest existing palm in Italy, and am glad to have
taken a likeness of it, ere it shall have been cut down like the rest of
its fellows.
