The
Incident Did Me Good, And I Went On In A Happier Humour.
Which was not perturbed by something that fell under my eye soon
afterwards.
At a shop door hung certain printed cards, bearing a
notice that "wood hay-makers," "wood binders," and "wood mowers"
were "sold here." Not in Italian this, but in plain, blunt English;
and to each announcement was added the name of an English
manufacturing firm, with an agency at Naples. I have often heard the
remark that Englishmen of business are at a disadvantage in their
export trade because they pay no heed to the special requirements of
foreign countries; but such a delightful illustration of their
ineptitude had never come under my notice. Doubtless these alluring
advertisements are widely scattered through agricultural Calabria.
Who knows? they my serve as an introduction to the study of the
English tongue.
Not without cordiality was my leave-taking. The hostess confided to
me that, in the first day of my illness, she had felt sure I should
die. Everybody had thought so, she added gaily; even Dr. Sculco had
shaken his head and shrugged his shoulders; much better, was it not,
to be paying my bill? Bill more moderate, under the circumstances,
no man ever discharged; Calabrian honesty came well out of the
transaction. So I tumbled once more into the dirty, ramshackle
diligenza, passed along the dusty road between the barred and
padlocked warehouses, and arrived in good time at the station. No
sooner had I set foot on the platform than I felt an immense relief.
Even here, it seemed to me, the air was fresher. I lifted my eyes to
the hills and seemed to feel the breezes of Catanzaro.
The train was made up at Cotrone, and no undue haste appeared in our
departure. When we were already twenty minutes late, there stepped
into the carriage where I was sitting a good-humoured railway
official, who smiled and greeted me. I supposed he wanted my ticket,
but nothing of the kind. After looking all round the compartment
with an air of disinterested curiosity, he heaved a sigh and
remarked pleasantly to me, "Non manca niente" - "Nothing is
amiss." Five minutes more and we steamed away.
The railway ascended a long valley, that of the Esaro, where along
the deep watercourse trickled a scarce perceptible stream. On either
hand were hills of pleasant outline, tilled on the lower slopes, and
often set with olives. Here and there came a grassy slope, where
shepherds or goatherds idled amid their flocks. Above the ascent a
long tunnel, after which the line falls again towards the sea. The
landscape took a nobler beauty; mountains spread before us, tenderly
coloured by the autumn sun. We crossed two or three rivers - rivers
of flowing water, their banks overhung with dense green jungle. The
sea was azure, and looked very calm, but white waves broke loudly
upon the strand, last murmur of the storm which had raged and
renewed itself for nearly a fortnight.
At one of the wayside stations entered a traveller whom I could not
but regard with astonishment. He was a man at once plump and
muscular, his sturdy limbs well exhibited in a shooting costume. On
his face glowed the richest hue of health; his eyes glistened
merrily. With him he carried a basket, which, as soon as he was
settled, gave forth an abundant meal. The gusto of his eating, the
satisfaction with which he eyed his glasses of red wine, excited my
appetite. But who was he? Not, I could see, a tourist; yet how
account for this health and vigour in a native of the district? I
had not seen such a man since I set out upon my travels; the
contrast he made with the figures of late familiar to me was so
startling that I had much ado to avoid continuously gazing at him.
His proximity did me good; the man radiated health.
When next the train stopped he exchanged words with some one on the
platform, and I heard that he was going to Catanzaro. At once I
understood. This jovial, ruddy-cheeked personage was a man of the
hills. At Catanzaro I should see others like him; perhaps he fairly
represented its inhabitants. If so, I had reason for my suspicion
that poor fever-stricken Cotrone regarded with a sort of jealousy
the breezy health of Catanzaro, which at the same time is a much
more prosperous place. Later, I found that there did exist some
acerbity of mutual criticism between the two towns, reminding one of
civic rivalry among the Greeks. Catanzaro spoke with contempt of
Cotrone. Happily I made no medical acquaintance in the hill town;
but I should have liked to discuss with one of these gentlemen the
view of their climate held by Dr. Sculco.
In the ages that followed upon the fall of Rome, perpetual danger
drove the sea-coast population of Calabria inland and to the
heights. Our own day beholds a counter movement; the shore line of
railway will create new towns on the old deserted sites. Such a
settlement is the Marina of Catanzaro, a little port at the mouth of
a wide valley, along which runs a line to Catanzaro itself, or
rather to the foot of the great hill on which the town is situated.
The sun was setting when I alighted at the Marina, and as I waited
for the branch train my eyes feasted upon a glory of colour which
made me forget aching weariness. All around lay orchards of orange
trees, the finest I had ever seen, and over their solid masses of
dark foliage, thick hung with ripening fruit, poured the splendour
of the western sky. It was a picture unsurpassable in richness of
tone; the dense leafage of deepest, warmest green glowed and
flashed, its magnificence heightened by the blaze of the countless
golden spheres adorning it. Beyond, the magic sea, purple and
crimson as the sun descended upon the vanishing horizon.
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