I took my ticket for Cotrone, which once was Croton.  At Croton, Pythagoras enjoyed his moment’s triumph, ruling men to their own behoof.  At Croton grew up a school of medicine which glorified Magna Graecia.  “Healthier than Croton,” said a proverb; for the spot was unsurpassed in salubrity; beauty and strength distinguished its inhabitants, who boasted their champion Milon.  After the fall of Sybaris, Croton became so populous that its walls encircled twelve miles.  Hither came Zeuxis, to adorn with paintings the great temple of Hera on the Lacinian promontory; here he made his picture of Helen, with models chosen from the loveliest maidens of the city.  I was light-hearted with curious anticipation as I entered the train for Cotrone.

While daylight lasted, the moving landscape held me attentive.  This part of the coast is more varied, more impressive, than between Taranto and Metaponto.  For the most part a shaggy wilderness, the ground lies in strangely broken undulations, much hidden with shrub and tangled boscage.  At the falling of dusk we passed a thickly-wooded tract large enough to be called a forest; the great trees looked hoary with age, and amid a jungle of undergrowth, myrtle and lentisk, arbutus and oleander, lay green marshes, dull deep pools, sluggish streams.  A spell which was half fear fell upon the imagination; never till now had I known an enchanted wood.  Nothing human could wander in those pathless shades, by those dead waters.  It was the very approach to the world of spirits; over this woodland, seen on the verge of twilight, brooded a silent awe, such as Dante knew in his selva oscura.

Of a sudden the dense foliage was cleft; there opened a broad alley between drooping boughs, and in the deep hollow, bordered with sand and stones, a flood rolled eastward.  This river is now called Sinno; it was the ancient Sins, whereon stood the city of the same name.  In the seventh century before Christ, Sins was lauded as the richest city in the world; for luxury it outrivalled Sybaris.

I had recently been reading Lenormant’s description of the costumes of Magna Graecia prior to the Persian wars.  Sins, a colony from Ionia, still kept its Oriental style of dress.  Picture a man in a long, close-clinging tunic which descended to his feet, either of fine linen, starched and pleated, or of wool, falling foldless, enriched with embroidery and adorned with bands of gay-coloured geometric patterns; over this a wrap (one may say) of thick wool, tight round the bust and leaving the right arm uncovered, or else a more ample garment, elaborately decorated like the long tunic.  Complete the picture with a head ornately dressed, on the brow a fringe of ringlets; the long hair behind held together by gold wire spirally wound; above, a crowning fillet, with a jewel set in the front; the beard cut to a point, and the upper lip shaven.  You behold the citizen of these Hellenic colonies in their stately prime.