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.
Pages:
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123