Did Any One Ever Compare The
Expenses With The Results?
A glance shows the situation of Cosenza.
The town is built on a
steep hillside, above the point where two rivers, flowing from the
valleys on either side, mingle their waters under one name, that of
the Crati. We drove over a bridge which spans the united current,
and entered a narrow street, climbing abruptly between houses so
high and so close together as to make a gloom amid sunshine. It was
four o'clock; I felt tired and half choked with dust; the thought of
rest and a meal was very pleasant. As I searched for the sign of my
inn, we suddenly drew up, midway in the dark street, before a darker
portal, which seemed the entrance to some dirty warehouse. The
driver jumped down - "Ecco l'albergo!"
I had seen a good many Italian hostelries, and nourished no
unreasonable expectations. The Lion at Paola would have seemed to
any untravelled Englishman a squalid and comfortless hole,
incredible as a place of public entertainment; the Two Little
Lions of Cosenza made a decidedly worse impression. Over sloppy
stones, in an atmosphere heavy with indescribable stenches, I felt
rather than saw my way to the foot of a stone staircase; this I
ascended, and on the floor above found a dusky room, where
tablecloths and an odour of frying oil afforded some suggestion of
refreshment. My arrival interested nobody; with a good deal of
trouble I persuaded an untidy fellow, who seemed to be a waiter, to
come down with me and secure my luggage. More trouble before I could
find a bedroom; hunting for keys, wandering up and down stone stairs
and along pitch-black corridors, sounds of voices in quarrel. The
room itself was utterly depressing - so bare, so grimy, so dark.
Quickly I examined the bed, and was rewarded. It is the good point
of Italian inns; be the house and the room howsoever sordid, the bed
is almost invariably clean and dry and comfortable.
I ate, not amiss; I drank copiously to the memory of Alaric, and
felt equal to any fortune. When night had fallen I walked a little
about the scarce-lighted streets and came to an open place, dark and
solitary and silent, where I could hear the voices of the two
streams as they mingled below the hill. Presently I passed an open
office of some kind, where a pleasant-looking man sat at a table
writing; on an impulse I entered, and made bold to ask whether
Cosenza had no better inn than the Due Lionetti. Great was this
gentleman's courtesy; he laid down his pen, as if for ever, and gave
himself wholly to my concerns. His discourse delighted me, so
flowing were the phrases, so rounded the periods. Yes, there were
other inns; one at the top of the town - the Vetere - in a very
good position; and they doubtless excelled my own in modern comfort.
As a matter of fact, it might be avowed that the Lionetti, from
the point of view of the great centres of civilization, left
something to be desired - something to be desired; but it was a
good old inn, a reputable old inn, and probably on further
acquaintance - -
Further acquaintance did not increase my respect for the Lionetti;
it would not be easy to describe those features in which, most
notably, it fell short of all that might be desired.
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