By the Ionian Sea: Notes of a Ramble in Southern Italy

folk. With my better opportunity of judging them, I overcame the first

natural antipathy; I saw their good side, and learnt to forgive the

faults natural to a state of frank barbarism. It took two or three days

before their rough and ready behaviour softened to a really human

friendliness, but this came about at last, and when it was known that I

should not give much more trouble, that I needed only a little care in

the matter of diet, goodwill did its best to aid hopeless incapacity.

Whilst my fever was high, little groups of people often came into the

room, to stand and stare at me, exchanging, in a low voice, remarks

which they supposed I did not hear, or, hearing, could not understand;

as a matter of fact, their dialect was now intelligible enough to me,

and I knew that they discussed my chances of surviving. Their natures

were not sanguine. A result, doubtless, of the unhealthy climate, every

one at Cotrone seemed in a more or less gloomy state of mind. The

hostess went about uttering ceaseless moans and groans; when she was in

my room I heard her constantly sighing, “Ah, Signore! Ah,

Cristo!”—exclamations which, perhaps, had some reference to my

illness, but which did not cease when I recovered. Whether she had any

private reason for depression I could not learn; I fancy not; it was

only the whimpering and querulous habit due to low health. A female

servant, who occasionally brought me food (I found that she also cooked

it), bore herself in much the same way. This domestic was the most

primitive figure of the household. Picture a woman of middle age,

wrapped at all times in dirty rags (not to be called clothing), obese,

grimy, with dishevelled black hair, and hands so scarred, so deformed

by labour and neglect, as to be scarcely human. She had the darkest and

fiercest eyes I ever saw. Between her and her mistress went on an

unceasing quarrel: they quarrelled in my room, in the corridor, and, as

I knew by their shrill voices, in places remote; yet I am sure they did

not dislike each other, and probably neither of them ever thought of

parting. Unexpectedly, one evening, this woman entered, stood by the

bedside, and began to talk with such fierce energy, with such flashing

of her black eyes, and such distortion of her features, that I could

only suppose that she was attacking me for the trouble I caused her. A

minute or two passed before I could even hit the drift of her furious

speech; she was always the most difficult of the natives to understand,

and in rage she became quite unintelligible. Little by little, by dint

of questioning, I got at what she meant. There had been guai, worse

than usual; the mistress had reviled her unendurably for some fault or

other, and was it not hard that she should be used like this after

having tanto, tanto lavorato! In fact, she was appealing for my

sympathy, not abusing me at all. When she went on to say that she was

alone in the world, that all her kith and kin were freddi morti

(stone dead), a pathos in her aspect and her words took hold upon me;

it was much as if some heavy-laden beast of burden had suddenly found

tongue, and protested in the rude beginnings of articulate utterance

against its hard lot. If only one could have learnt, in intimate

detail, the life of this domestic serf! How interesting, and how

sordidly picturesque against the background of romantic landscape, of

scenic history! I looked long into her sallow, wrinkled face, trying to

imagine the thoughts that ruled its expression. In some measure my

efforts at kindly speech succeeded, and her “Ah, Cristo!” as she turned

to go away, was not without a touch of solace.

Another time my hostess fell foul of the waiter, because he had brought

me goat’s milk which was very sour. There ensued the most comical

scene. In an access of fury the stout woman raged and stormed; the

waiter, a lank young fellow, with a simple, good-natured face, after

trying to explain that he had committed the fault by inadvertence,

suddenly raised his hand, like one about to exhort a congregation, and

exclaimed in a tone of injured remonstrance, “_Un po’ di calma! Un po’

di calma!_” My explosion of laughter at this inimitable utterance put

an end to the strife. The youth laughed with me; his mistress bustled

him out of the room, and then began to inform me that he was weak in

his head. Ah! she exclaimed, her life with these people! what it cost

her to keep them in anything like order! When she retired, I heard her

expectorating violently in the corridor; a habit with every inmate of

this genial hostelry.

When the worst of my fever had subsided, the difficulty was to obtain

any nourishment suitable to my state. The good doctor, who had

suggested beefsteak and Marsala when I was incapable of taking anything

at all, ruled me severely in the matter of diet now that I really began

to feel hungry. I hope I may never again be obliged to drink goat’s

milk; in these days it became so unutterably loathsome to me that I