I Felt As One Involved In A
Moral Disaster; Working In Spite Of Reason, My Brain Regarded The
Matter From Many Points Of View, And Found No Shadow Of Solace.
The
sense that so short a distance separated me from the place I desired
to see, added exasperation to my distress.
Half-delirious, I at
times seemed to be in a boat, tossing on wild waters, the Column
visible afar, but only when I strained my eyes to discover it. In a
description of the approach by land, I had read of a great precipice
which had to be skirted, and this, too, haunted me with its terrors:
I found myself toiling on a perilous road, which all at once
crumbled into fearful depths just before me. A violent shivering fit
roused me from this gloomy dreaming, and I soon after fell into a
visionary state which, whilst it lasted, gave me such placid
happiness as I have never known when in my perfect mind. Lying still
and calm, and perfectly awake, I watched a succession of wonderful
pictures. First of all I saw great vases, rich with ornament and
figures; then sepulchral marbles, carved more exquisitely than the
most beautiful I had ever known. The vision grew in extent, in
multiplicity of detail; presently I was regarding scenes of ancient
life - thronged streets, processions triumphal or religious, halls
of feasting, fields of battle. What most impressed me at the time
was the marvellously bright yet delicate colouring of everything I
saw. I can give no idea in words of the pure radiance which shone
from every object, which illumined every scene. More remarkable,
when I thought of it next day, was the minute finish of these
pictures, the definiteness of every point on which my eye fell.
Things which I could not know, which my imagination, working in the
service of the will, could never have bodied forth, were before me
as in life itself. I consciously wondered at peculiarities of
costume such as I had never read of; at features of architecture
entirely new to me; at insignificant characteristics of that by-gone
world, which by no possibility could have been gathered from books.
I recall a succession of faces, the loveliest conceivable; and I
remember, I feel to this moment the pang of regret with which I lost
sight of each when it faded into darkness.
As an example of the more elaborate visions that passed before me, I
will mention the only one which I clearly recollect. It was a
glimpse of history. When Hannibal, at the end of the second Punic
War, was confined to the south of Italy, he made Croton his
head-quarters, and when, in reluctant obedience to Carthage, he
withdrew from Roman soil, it was at Croton that he embarked. He then
had with him a contingent of Italian mercenaries, and, unwilling
that these soldiers should go over to the enemy, he bade them
accompany him to Africa. The Italians refused. Thereupon Hannibal
had them led down to the shore of the sea, where he slaughtered one
and all. This event I beheld. I saw the strand by Croton; the
promontory with its temple; not as I know the scene to-day, but as
it must have looked to those eyes more than two thousand years ago.
The soldiers of Hannibal doing massacre, the perishing mercenaries,
supported my closest gaze, and left no curiosity unsatisfied. (Alas!
could I but see it again, or remember clearly what was shown tome!)
And over all lay a glory of sunshine, an indescribable brilliancy
which puts light and warmth into my mind whenever I try to recall
it. The delight of these phantasms was well worth the ten days'
illness which paid for them. After this night they never returned; I
hoped for their renewal, but in vain. When I spoke of the experience
to Dr. Sculco, he was much amused, and afterwards he often asked me
whether I had had any more visioni. That gate of dreams was
closed, but I shall always feel that, for an hour, it was granted to
me to see the vanished life so dear to my imagination. If the
picture corresponded to nothing real, tell me who can, by what power
I reconstructed, to the last perfection of intimacy, a world known
to me only in ruined fragments.
Daylight again, but no gleam of sun. I longed for the sunshine; it
seemed to me a miserable chance that I should lie ill by the Ionian
Sea and behold no better sky than the far north might have shown me.
That grey obstruction of heaven's light always weighs upon my
spirit; on a summer's day, there has but to pass a floating cloud,
which for a moment veils the sun, and I am touched with chill
discouragement; heart and hope fail me, until the golden radiance is
restored.
About noon, when I had just laid down the newspaper bought the night
before - the Roman Tribuna, which was full of dreary politics -
a sudden clamour in the street drew my attention. I heard the angry
shouting of many voices, not in the piazza before the hotel, but at
some little distance; it was impossible to distinguish any meaning
in the tumultuous cries. This went on for a long time, swelling at
moments into a roar of frenzied rage, then sinking to an uneven
growl, broken by spasmodic yells. On asking what it meant, I was
told that a crowd of poor folk had gathered before the Municipio to
demonstrate against an oppressive tax called the fuocatico. This
is simply hearth-money, an impost on each fireplace where food is
cooked; the same tax which made trouble in old England, and was
happily got rid of long ago. But the hungry plebs of Cotrone lacked
vigour for any effective self-assertion; they merely exhausted
themselves with shouting "Abbass' 'o sindaco!" and dispersed to
the hearths which paid for an all but imaginary service.
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