the complete writings-2-第47章

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flooding　them　with　waves　of　light；　which　I　think　a　person　delicately　enough　organized　could　hear　beat。　　Beyond　the　brown　roofs　of　the　town；　the　terraced　hills　arise；　in　semicircular　embrace　of　the　plain；　and　the　fine　veil　over　them　is　partly　the　natural　shimmer　of　the　heat；　and　partly　the　silver　duskiness　of　the　olive…leaves。　　I　sit　with　my　back　to　all　this；　taking　the　entire　force　of　this　winter　sun；　which　is　full　of　life　and　genial　heat；　and　does　not　scorch　one；　as　I　remember　such　a　full　flood　of　it　would　at　home。　　It　is　putting　sweetness；　too；　into　the　oranges；　which；　I　observe；　are　getting　redder　and　softer　day　by　day。　　We　have　here；　by　the　way；　such　a　habit　of　taking　up　an　orange；　weighing　it　in　the　hand；　and　guessing　if　it　is　ripe；　that　the　test　is　extending　to　other　things。　　I　saw　a　gentleman　this　morning；　at　breakfast；　weighing　an　egg　in　the　same　manner；　and　some　one　asked　him　if　it　was　ripe。

It　seems　to　me　that　the　Mediterranean　was　never　bluer　than　it　is　to…day。　　It　has　a　shade　or　two　the　advantage　of　the　sky：　though　I　like　the　sky　best；　after　all；　for　it　is　less　opaque；　and　offers　an　illimitable　opportunity　of　exploration。　　Perhaps　this　is　because　I　am　nearer　to　it。　　There　are　some　little　ruffles　of　air　on　the　sea；　which　I　do　not　feel　here；　making　broad　spots　of　shadow；　and　here　and　there　flecks　and　sparkles。　　But　the　schooners　sail　idly；　and　the　fishing…boats　that　have　put　out　from　the　marina　float　in　the　most　dreamy　manner。　　I　fear　that　the　fishermen　who　have　made　a　show　of　industry；　and　got　away　from　their　wives；　who　are　busily　weaving　nets　on　shore；　are　yielding　to　the　seductions　of　the　occasion）　and　making　a　day　of　it。　　And；　as　I　look　at　them；　I　find　myself　debating　which　I　would　rather　be；　a　fisherman　there　in　the　boat；　rocked　by　the　swell；　and　warmed　by　the　sun；　or　a　friar；　on　the　terrace　of　the　garden　on　the　summit　of　Deserto；　lying　perfectly　tranquil；　and　also　soaked　in　the　sun。　　There　is　one　other　person；　now　that　I　think　of　it；　who　may　be　having　a　good　time　to…day；　though　I　do　not　know　that　I　envy　him。　His　business　is　a　new　one　to　me；　and　is　an　occupation　that　one　would　not　care　to　recommend　to　a　friend　until　he　had　tried　it：　it　is　being　carried　about　in　a　basket。　　As　I　went　up　the　new　Massa　road　the　other　day；　I　met　a　ragged；　stout；　and　rather　dirty　woman；　with　a　large　shallow　basket　on　her　head。　　In　it　lay　her　husband；　a　large　man；　though　I　think　a　little　abbreviated　as　to　his　legs。　　The　woman　asked　alms。　　Talk　of　Diogenes　in　his　tub！　　How　must　the　world　look　to　a　man　in　a　basket；　riding　about　on　his　wife's　head？　　When　I　returned；　she　had　put　him　down　beside　the　road　in　the　sun；　and　almost　in　danger　of　the　passing　vehicles。　　I　suppose　that　the　affectionate　creature　thought　that；　if　he　got　a　new　injury　in　this　way；　his　value　in　the　beggar　market　would　be　increased。　　I　do　not　mean　to　do　this　exemplary　wife　any　injustice；　and　I　only　suggest　the　idea　in　this　land；　where　every　beggar　who　is　born　with　a　deformity　has　something　to　thank　the　Virgin　for。　　This　custom　of　carrying　your　husband　on　your　head　in　a　basket　has　something　to　recommend　it；　and　is　an　exhibition　of　faith　on　the　one　hand；　and　of　devotion　on　the　other；　that　is　seldom　met　with。　　Its　consideration　is　commended　to　my　countrywomen　at　home。　　It　is；　at　least；　a　new　commentary　on　the　apostolic　remark；　that　the　man　is　the　head　of　the　woman。　　It　is；　in　some　respects；　a　happy　division　of　labor　in　the　walk　of　life：　she　furnishes　the　locomotive　power；　and　he　the　directing　brains；　as　he　lies　in　the　sun　and　looks　abroad；　which　reminds　me　that　the　sun　is　getting　hot　on　my　back。　　The　little　bunch　of　bells　in　the　convent　tower　is　jangling　out　a　suggestion　of　worship；　or　of　the　departure　of　the　hours。　　It　is　time　to　eat　an　orange。

Vesuvius　appears　to　be　about　on　a　level　with　my　eyes　and　I　never　knew　him　to　do　himself　more　credit　than　to…day。　　The　whole　coast　of　the　bay　is　in　a　sort　of　obscuration；　thicker　than　an　Indian　summer　haze；　and　the　veil　extends　almost　to　the　top　of　Vesuvius。　　But　his　summit　is　still　distinct；　and　out　of　it　rises　a　gigantic　billowy　column　of　white　smoke；　greater　in　quantity　than　on　any　previous　day　of　our　sojourn；　and　the　sun　turns　it　to　silver。　　Above　a　long　line　of　ordinary　looking　clouds；　float　great　white　masses；　formed　of　the　sulphurous　vapor。　　This　manufacture　of　clouds　in　a　clear；　sunny　day　has　an　odd　appearance；　but　it　is　easy　enough；　if　one　has　such　a　laboratory　as　Vesuvius。　　How　it　tumbles　up　the　white　smoke！　　It　is　piled　up　now；　I　should　say；　a　thousand　feet　above　the　crater；　straight　into　the　blue　sky；a　pillar　of　cloud　by　day。　　One　might　sit　here　all　day　watching　it；　listening　the　while　to　the　melodious　spring　singing　of　the　hundreds　of　birds　which　have　come　to　take　possession　of　the　garden；　receiving　southern　reinforcements　from　Sicily　and　Tunis　every　morning；　and　think　he　was　happy。　　But　the　morning　has　gone；　and　I　have　written　nothing。




THE　PRICE　OF　ORANGES

If　ever　a　northern　wanderer　could　be　suddenly　transported　to　look　down　upon　the　Piano　di　Sorrento；　he　would　not　doubt　that　he　saw　the　Garden　of　the　Hesperides。　　The　orange…trees　cannot　well　be　fuller：　their　branches　bend　with　the　weight　of　fruit。　　With　the　almond…trees　in　full　flower；　and　with　the　silver　sheen　of　the　olive　leaves；　the　oranges　are　apples　of　gold　in　pictures　of　silver。　　As　I　walk　in　these　sunken　roads；　and　between　these　high　walls；　the　orange　boughs　everywhere　hang　over；　and　through　the　open　gates　of　villas　I　look　down　alleys　of　golden　glimmer；　roses　and　geraniums　by　the　walk；　and　the　fruit　above；gardens　of　enchantment；　with　never　a　dragon；　that　I　can　see；　to　guard　them。

All　the　highways　and　the　byways；　the　streets　and　lanes；　wherever　I　go；　from　the　sea　to　the　tops　of　the　hills；　are　strewn　with　orange…peel；　so　that　one；　looking　above　and　below；　comes　back　from　a　walk　with　a　golden　dazzle　in　his　eyes；a　sense　that　yellow　is　the　prevailing　color。　　Perhaps　the　kerchiefs　of　the　dark…skinned　girls　and　women；　which　take　that　tone；　help　the　impression。　　The　inhabitants　are　all　orange…eaters。　　The　high　walls　show　that　the　gardens　are　protected　with　great　care；　yet　the　fruit　seems　to　be　as　free　as　apples　are　in　a　remote　New　England　town　about　cider…time。

I　have　been　trying；　ever　since　I　have　been　here；　to　ascertain　the　price　of　oranges；　not　for　purposes　of　exportation；　nor　yet　for　the　personal　importation　that　I　daily　practice；　but　in　order　to　give　an　American　basis　of　fact　to　these　idle　chapters。　　In　all　the　paths　I　meet；　daily；　girls　and　boys　bearing　on　their　heads　large　baskets　of　the　fruit；　and　little　children　with　bags　and　bundles　of　the　same；　as　large　as　they　can　stagger　under；　and　I　understand　they　are　carrying　them　to　the　packers；　who　ship　them　to　New　York；　or　to　the　depots；　where　I　see　them　lying　in　yellow　heaps；　and　where　men　and　women　are　cutting　them　up；　and　removing　the　peel；　which　goes　to　England　for　preserves。　　I　am　told　that　these　oranges　are　sold　for　a　couple　of　francs　a　hundred。　　That　seems　to　me　so　dear　that　I　am　not　tempted　into　any　speculation；　but　stroll　back　to　the　Tramontano；　in　the　gardens　of　which　I　find　better　terms。

The　only　trouble　is　to　find　a　sweet　tree；　for　the　Sorrento　oranges　are　usually　sour　in　February；　and　one　needs　to　be　a　good　judge　of　the　fruit；　and　know　the　male　orange　from　the　female；　though　which　it　is　that　is　the　sweeter　I　can　never　remember　（and　should　not　dare　to　say；　if　I　did；　in　the　present　state　of　feeling　on　the　woman　question）；or　he　might　as　well　eat　a　lemon。　　The　mercenary　aspect　of　my　query　does　not　enter　in　here。　　I　climb　into　a　tree；　and　reach　out　to　the　end　of　the　branch　for　an　orange　that　has　got　reddish　in　the　sun；　that　comes　off　easily　and　is　heavy；　or　I　tickle　a　large　one　on　the　top　bough　with　a　cane　pole；　and　if　it　drops　readily；　and　has　a　fine　grain；　I　call　it　a　cheap　one。　　I　can　usually　tell　whether　they　are　good　by　splitting　them　open　and　eating　a　quarter。　　The　Italians　pare　their　oranges　as　we　do　apples；　but　I　like　best　to　open　them　first；　and　see　the　yellow　meat　in　the　white　casket。　　After　you　have　eaten　a　few　from　one　tree；　you　can　usually　tell　whether　it　is　a　good　tree；　but　there　is　nothing　certain　about　it；one　bough　that　gets　the　sun　will　be　better　than　another　that　does　not；　a