One needs something of that "human element" which delighted the
genteel photographer of Morano - comrades, in short; if only those sages,
like old Noia Molisi, who have fallen under the spell of its ancient
glories. The joys of Calabria are not to be bought, like those of
Switzerland, for gold.
Sir Giovati Battista di Noia Molisi, the last of his family and name,
having no sons and being come to old age without further hope of
offspring, has desired in the place of children to leave of himself an
eternal memory to mankind - to wit, this Chronicle of the most Ancient,
Magnificent, and Faithful City of Cotrone. A worthier effort at
self-perpetuation than that of Strangoli. . . .
A sturgeon, he notes, was caught in 1593 by the Spanish Castellan of the
town. This nobleman, puzzling whom he could best honour with so rare a
dainty, despatched it by means of a man on horseback to the Duke of
Nocera. The Duke was no less surprised than pleased; he thought mighty
well of the sturgeon and of the respectful consideration which prompted
the gift; and then, by another horseman, sent it to Noia Molisi's own
uncle, accompanied, we may conjecture, by some ceremonious compliment
befitting the occasion.
A man of parts, therefore, our author's uncle, to whom his Lordship of
Nocera sends table-delicacies by mounted messenger; and himself a mellow
comrade whom I am loath to leave; his pages are distinguished by a
pleasing absence of those saintly paraphernalia which hang like a fog
athwart the fair sky of the south.
