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. I wondered
whether the Sindaco and his portly friend sat in their comfortable
room whilst the roaring went on; whether they smoked their cigars as
usual, and continued to chat at their ease. Very likely. The
privileged classes in Italy are slow to move, and may well believe
in the boundless endurance of those below them. Some day, no doubt,
they will have a disagreeable surprise. When Lombardy begins in
earnest to shout "Abbasso!" it will be an uneasy moment for the
heavy syndics of Calabria.
CHAPTER X
CHILDREN OF THE SOIL
Any northern person who passed a day or two at the Concordia as an
ordinary traveller would carry away a strong impression. The people
of the house would seem to him little short of savages, filthy in
person and in habits, utterly uncouth in their demeanour, perpetual
wranglers and railers, lacking every qualification for the duties
they pretended to discharge. In England their mere appearance would
revolt decent 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.
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