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diff --git a/25077-h/25077-h.htm b/25077-h/25077-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b08499c --- /dev/null +++ b/25077-h/25077-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10566 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Castellinaria</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.headingsummary { margin-left: 5%;} + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: gray;} + + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Castellinaria, by Henry Festing Jones</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Castellinaria, by Henry Festing Jones + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Castellinaria + and Other Sicilian Diversions + + +Author: Henry Festing Jones + + + +Release Date: April 15, 2008 [eBook #25077] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CASTELLINARIA*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler.</p> +<h1>CASTELLINARIA<br /> +<span class="smcap">and other sicilian diversions</span></h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +HENRY FESTING JONES</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tp.jpg"> +<img alt="Title page" src="images/tp.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON: A. C. +FIFIELD 1920</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page 6--><a +name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 6</span><i>First +Published</i> . . . 1911<br /> +<i>Re-issued</i> . . . 1920</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page 7--><a +name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 7</span><span +class="smcap">al</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">caro</span> • <span +class="smcap">compare</span><br /> +ALBERTO • AUGUGLIARO<br /> +<span class="smcap">di</span> • <span +class="smcap">monte</span> • <span +class="smcap">erice</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">alla</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">cara</span> • <span +class="smcap">comare</span><br /> +GIUSEPPINA • AUGUGLIARO<br /> +<span class="smcap">e</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">a</span> • <span +class="smcap">tutti</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">gli</span> • <span +class="smcap">amici</span> • <span +class="smcap">siciliani</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">che</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">gareggiando</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">in</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">cortesia</span> • <span +class="smcap">ospitalità</span> • <span +class="smcap">affezione</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">hanno</span> • <span +class="smcap">fatto</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">della</span> • <span +class="smcap">loro</span> • <span +class="smcap">isola</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">una</span> • <span +class="smcap">seconda</span> • <span +class="smcap">patria</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">per</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">l’autore</span> • <span +class="smcap">riconoscente</span></p> +<h2><!-- page 9--><a name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +9</span>PREFACE</h2> +<p>It is probable that every book contains, besides misprints, +some statements which the author would be glad to modify if he +could. In Chapter V of <i>Diversions in Sicily</i> it is +stated that the seating arrangements of the marionette theatre in +Catania would be condemned by the County Council, which I believe +to be correct, but, on visiting the theatre since, I find I was +wrong in saying that there are no passages; I did not see them on +my first visit because the audience hid them.</p> +<p>Again, in Chapter XVI it is stated that Giovanni Grasso enters +in the third act of <i>La Morte Civile</i>, whereas he enters in +the second act. I have since seen the play several times, +and, though it is tedious, it is not so much so as to justify a +spectator in thinking any of its acts long enough for two.</p> +<p>In Chapter IV I say that the Government makes an annual profit +of £3,000,000 sterling out of the lottery, but I do not say +whether this profit is gross or net. There is a paragraph +in the <i>Morning Post</i>, 12 September, 1911, which states +clearly that never since the union of Italy has the State lottery +been so productive as in the present year of Jubilee; the gross +yield has been £3,715,088, and the net <!-- page 10--><a +name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 10</span>gain, after +deducting commissions and prizes, £1,489,180.</p> +<p>In Chapter XV it is stated that the words of the play in +Signor Greco’s marionette theatre in Palermo are always +improvised except in the case of <i>Samson</i>. This is +incorrect. The words of the long play about the paladins +are improvised, but they have in the theatre the MSS. of several +religious plays by the author of <i>Samson</i>, who was a +Palermitan, Filippo Orioles. All who are interested in the +legends, folklore, popular entertainments, superstitions, and +traditions of the people of Sicily are under deep obligations to +Giuseppe Pitrè, of Palermo, Professore di Demopsicologia, +for his numerous volumes treating of those subjects. In +<i>Spettacoli e Feste Popolari Siciliane</i> he gives the little +that is known of Filippo Orioles, who died in 1793 at the great +age of one hundred and six years. The subject of the most +famous of his plays is the Passion of Jesus Christ, and its title +in English signifies The Redemption of Adam. It has had an +immense success throughout Sicily; it has been copied in MS. many +times, printed continually, performed over and over again in +theatres, in churches, in the public squares, and in private +houses. It was written for living actors, and Signor Greco +considers it too long for a performance by marionettes, so when +they do it in his teatrino they treat it even more freely than +our London managers treat a play by Shakespeare. Copies are +difficult to procure because their owners keep them +jealously. <!-- page 11--><a name="page11"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 11</span>Professore Pitrè has, however, +lately added to our obligations by publishing a reprint of the +play: <i>Il Riscatto d’Adamo nella Morte di Gesù +Cristo</i>; Tragedia di Filippo Orioles, Palermitano; Riprodotta +sulla edizione di 1750; con prefazione di G. Pitrè. +Palermo: Tipografia Vittoria Giliberti, Via Celso 93. +1909. A copy of this reprint is in the library of the +British Museum.</p> +<p>Many of the friends who have helped me to write this book are +named in the following pages, many more are unnamed. I +hereby tender my thanks to all of them.</p> +<p>I specially thank Signor Cesare Coppo, of Casale-Monferrato, +who, although he is not a Sicilian, has helped me in a manner +which I will only hint at by saying that he could give a better +account than I can of Peppino Pampalone, of Castellinaria.</p> +<p>To an English friend, Mr. Joseph Benwell Clark, I am indebted +for the drawing on the title-page and on the cover. When +any of the audience leaves Signor Greco’s marionette +theatre in Palermo to smoke a cigarette or to drink a glass of +water between the acts he receives a ticket with a picture of two +fighting paladins, which he gives up on returning. I +brought away one of these tickets as a ricordo of the +marionettes. The picture is not very clear, because it is +printed from a wood-block that has been a good deal worn. +Mr. Clark has made from it a drawing which looks more like what +the artist originally intended, and I trust that Signor Greco +will not be angry with <!-- page 12--><a name="page12"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 12</span>us for assuming his permission to +reproduce the picture.</p> +<p>In correcting the proof-sheets I have had the assistance of my +sister, Miss Lilian Isabel Jones, and of my friend Mr. R. A. +Streatfeild. I am much obliged to them both for the care +which they have exercised.</p> +<p>I must not conclude without saying that Castellinaria still +remains as in Chapter II of my previous book, “not so +marked on any map of Sicily.”</p> +<p> <i>September</i>, 1911</p> +<h2><!-- page 13--><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +13</span>CONTENTS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CASTELLINARIA</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">chapter</span></p> +</td> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">page</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">I.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Changes in the Town</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">17</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">II.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Festa Rimandata</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">36</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">PALERMO</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">III.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Marionettists at Home</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">53</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">IV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Malagigi</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">66</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">V.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Argantino</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">73</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Escape from Paris</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">82</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CATANIA</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Buffo’s Holiday</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">93</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">TRAPANI</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Nascita</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">115</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">MOUNT ERYX</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">IX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Compare</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">129</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">X.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Compare Berto</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">135</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Berto’s Wedding</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">142</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">TRABONELLA</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Sulphur</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">151</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Omertà and the Mafia</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">157</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XIV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Mala Vita</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">165</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><!-- page 14--><a +name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 14</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CASTELLINARIA</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Cardinalessa</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">177</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XVI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Corporal</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">185</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">EARTHQUAKE ECHOES</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XVII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Totò Carbonara</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">203</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Turiddu Balistrieri</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">208</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Railway Porters</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">216</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Giuseppe Platania</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">220</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Giulio Adamo</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">222</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Cecè Luna</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">223</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Fugitives and Victims</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">227</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">THE SLOPES OF ETNA</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XVIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Lava</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">233</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XIX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">S. Alfio</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">242</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Naked Runners</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">248</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CATANIA</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Holy Week</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">261</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">ORTIGIA</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">O Fountain Arethuse</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">289</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><!-- page 17--><a name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +17</span>CASTELLINARIA</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER I<br /> +CHANGES IN THE TOWN</h3> +<p>Enrico Pampalone entered the world with a compliment to his +godfather, for of all the days in the year he chose to be born on +my birthday. Peppino sent me a telegram at once, then a +formal invitation to the christening, then a letter, an extract +from which I translate:</p> +<blockquote><p>With immense joy I inform you that Brancaccia has +given to the light a fine, healthy boy. Mother and child +are well and send you their salutations. We are all beside +ourselves with delight at this happy event and my father is +talking of his grandson all day long. In accordance with +your promise, you ought to hold the baby at the baptism, but, as +I absolutely cannot permit you to undertake so long a journey for +this purpose, I am sending you a formal document and I beg you to +return it to me at once signed with your name in order that the +ceremony may take place with as little delay as possible.</p> +<p>We are all looking forward to the pleasure of seeing you +playing with your godchild which you will be able to do on your +next visit.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The formal document was to the following effect:</p> +<blockquote><p>WHEREAS I the undersigned have undertaken the duty +of acting as godfather to Enrico the new-born son of Giuseppe and +Brancaccia Pampalone of the Albergo della Madonna (con giardino) +Castellinaria Sicily AND WHEREAS I am detained in London for +several weeks and desire that the baptism of the said infant +shall not be delayed on that account NOW I DO HEREBY APPOINT +Luigi Pampalone the father of the said Giuseppe Pampalone to be +my substitute for me and in my name to hold the said Enrico +Pampalone his grandson at the sacred font on the occasion of his +baptism <!-- page 18--><a name="page18"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 18</span>and to do all such other acts and +deeds as may be necessary in the promises as fully and +effectually as I could do the same if I were present in my own +person I hereby agreeing to ratify and confirm all that the said +Luigi Pampalone shall do by virtue of this writing AS WITNESS my +hand this day of</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I filled up the date, signed the document, and returned it to +Peppino, and he told me all about the ceremony. By virtue +of the christening I became the padrino of Enrico, who became my +figlioccio, and I also became the compare of Peppino and +Brancaccia and in some spiritual way a member of the +family. Peppino sent me a post-card every week, and so I +learnt that the baby was the finest ever seen, and weighed more +and ate more than any baby that had ever been born in +Castellinaria. Then there came information about the first +tooth and the first intelligent, if unintelligible, sounds. +Soon he was three months old, then six, then a year, and still I +had not seen him.</p> +<p>When at last I returned to Sicily, he was more than a year +old, and came down to the station to meet me. He laughed as +soon as he saw me, threw away his india-rubber ball, and +signified that he was to be given to me. Whatever he wants +is always done at once and, as he never wants anything +unreasonable, the method is working out admirably. I took +him from Brancaccia, and he nestled down in my arms, all the time +gazing up at me with an expression of satisfied wonder, as though +at last he understood something that had been puzzling him. +Peppino was present, but effaced himself by helping Carmelo with +what he calls my “luggages.” I suppose I +exchanged the usual greetings with the parents, but they did not +count, I had seen them since their marriage; this time I had come +to see Enrico. There was some difficulty about getting into +the carriage, because they thought I could not do it unless they +took him away, and he did not want to be taken away. When +we were settled, and Carmelo was driving us up the zig-zags, I +said:</p> +<p><!-- page 19--><a name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +19</span>“Of course you don’t expect me to know much +about babies, not being married or anything—but isn’t +he an unusually fine child for his age?”</p> +<p>Brancaccia was much flattered and replied that recently, when +they had bought him some new clothes, he took the size usually +sold for babies of twice his age. This made Peppino laugh +at his wife, and say that the compare might not know much about +babies, but he knew how to get on the right side of +Ricuzzu’s mother.</p> +<p>“Why do you call him Ricuzzu?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Ricuzzu is Enrico in Sicilian.”</p> +<p>“Then I shall call him Ricuzzu also.”</p> +<p>“Of course, yes.”</p> +<p>The motion of the carriage soon sent the child to sleep. +I handed him back to Brancaccia, and looked at her as she sat +with him in her arms. She was more beautiful than before, +because of something that has eluded the skill of all the +painters who have striven to capture it for their hortus siccus +of the Madonna and Child, something that Enrico had awakened in +her heart, and that I saw glowing in her eyes and throbbing in +all her movements.</p> +<p>“Isn’t he like Peppino?” asked +Brancaccia.</p> +<p>“He is the very image of Peppino,” I replied; but +I noticed that he also had Brancaccia’s blue eyes, and was +promising to have her black hair.</p> +<p>We arrived at the Albergo della Madonna (con giardino) and +Peppino took me up to my room. Brancaccia had been before +us, and had put an enormous bunch of flowers in water on the +table to greet me. I went out on the balcony, just to make +sure that the panorama was still there, and, after putting myself +straight, descended into the garden, where I found Peppino +waiting for me, and where we were to have tea in the English +manner—”sistema Inglese,” as Brancaccia +said.</p> +<p>The English system is not always in working order at a +moment’s notice, so we had time for a walk round. The +afternoon breeze was conducting a symphony of <!-- page 20--><a +name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 20</span>perfumes, +and, as we strolled among the blossoms that were the orchestra, +we could identify the part played by each flower; sometimes one +became more prominent, sometimes another, but always through the +changing harmonies we could distinguish the stately canto fermo +of the roses, counterpointed with a florid rhythm from the +zagara. If Flaubert had been writing in Sicilian, he could +have said “una corona di zagara,” or, in English, +“a wreath of orange-blossoms,” and he need not have +worried himself to death by trying to elude the recurrent +“de” of “une couronne de fleurs +d’oranger.” There was also music of another +kind coming from a passero solitario (the blue rock thrush) who +was hanging in a cage in a doorway. We spoke to him, and he +could not have made more fuss about us if we had been the King of +Italy and the Pope of Rome paying him a visit.</p> +<p>I said, “Aren’t you pleased with your beautiful +garden, Peppino?”</p> +<p>He replied, “Yes, and other things too. Sometimes +I am cross with my life; but I think of Brancaccia and the baby, +and I look around me, and then I says to myself, ‘Ah, well, +never mind! Be a good boy!’“</p> +<p>Presently we came to a fountain which, when I turned a tap, +twisted round and round, spouting out graceful, moving curves, +and the drops fell in the basin below and disturbed the +rose-leaves that were sleeping on the water. I also found +an image of the Madonna and Bambino in a corner, with an +inscription in front promising forty days’ indulgence to +anyone who should recite devoutly an Ave before it. I +understood this as well as one who is not a Roman Catholic can be +said to understand such a promise, and better than I understood +another image to which Peppino called my attention. It was +a small coloured crockery S. Giuseppe, standing on the top of the +wall and looking into the garden, protected by a couple of tiles +arranged over him as an inverted V, and held in place by dabs of +mortar.</p> +<p><!-- page 21--><a name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +21</span>I said, “Why do you keep your patron saint on the +wall like that?”</p> +<p>He replied that it had nothing to do with him. The land +over the wall belongs to the monks, and they put the saint up to +gaze into the garden in the hope that Peppino’s father +might thereby become gradually illuminated with the idea of +giving them a piece of his land; they wanted it to join to their +own, which is rather an awkward shape just there. The +influence of S. Giuseppe had already been at work four years, but +Peppino’s father still remained obstinately +unilluminated.</p> +<p>Carmelo brought the tea and set a chair for Ricuzzu, who has +his own private meals like other babies but likes to sit up to +the table and watch his father and mother having theirs, +occasionally honouring their repast by trying his famous +six—or is it seven?—teeth upon a crust, which he +throws upon the ground when he has done with it. So we all +four sat together in the shade of the Japanese medlar-tree and +talked about the changes in the town since my last visit.</p> +<p>First Peppino repeated something he had told me last time I +was there, before Ricuzzu was born. It was about the horror +of that fatal night when he heard his father crying in the dark; +he went to his parents’ room to find out what was the +matter, and heard the old man babbling of being lost on Etna, +wandering naked in the snow. Peppino struck a light, which +woke his father from his dream, but it did not wake his +mother. She had been lying for hours dead by her +husband’s side.</p> +<p>When the body was laid out and the watchers were praying by it +at night, the widower sat in a chair singing. He was not in +the room with the body, he had his own room, and his song was +unlike anything Peppino had ever heard; it had no words, no +rhythm, no beginning and no end, yet it was not moaning, it was a +cantilena of real notes. It seemed to be a comfort to him +in his grief to pour these lamenting sounds out of his broken +heart. All the town <!-- page 22--><a +name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 22</span>came to the +funeral, for the family is held in much respect, and there were +innumerable letters of condolence and wreaths of flowers. +When it was over, Peppino wrote a paragraph which appeared in the +<i>Corriere di Castellinaria</i>:</p> +<blockquote><p>A tutte le pie cortesi persone che con assistenza, +con scritti, con l’intervento ai funebri della cara +sventurata estinta, con adornarne di fiori l’ultima +manifestazione terrena desiderarono renderne meno acre it dolore, +ringraziamenti vivissimi porge la famiglia <span +class="smcap">Pampalone</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>He showed me this and waited while I copied it. When I +had finished he went on, talking more to himself than to me:</p> +<p>“The life it is not the same when we are wanting someone +to be here that is gone away. When we were young and this +person was living, things it was so; now we can understand this +person who is gone, and things it is other. This is not a +good thing. Now is the time this dear person should be +living; now would we be taking much care.”</p> +<p>For many weeks they feared lest the father might follow the +mother, but he began to take a new interest in life on the day +when Peppino brought home his bride, and when Ricuzzu was born he +soon became almost his old self.</p> +<p>“Things it is like that,” said Peppino; “the +young ones are coming to dry the eyes that have tears in them +because the old ones are going away.”</p> +<p>Brancaccia’s attention was occupied by the tea and the +baby, and by trying to follow Peppino’s talk. He has +been giving her English lessons and, though she has not yet got +much beyond saying, “Me no speakare l’Inglese,” +she is quick enough to know what he is talking about, especially +as she has heard most of it before. She now said a few +words in dialect, evidently reminding him of something, and he at +once began to tell me about their wedding tour. He had told +me some of it last time I was there, and how he had wanted to +take his bride to England and show her London, but they had not +time enough, and that journey <!-- page 23--><a +name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 23</span>has been put +off for some future occasion. They went to Venice, which +was a particularly suitable place, because his cousin Vanni was +there with his ship, the <i>Sorella di Ninu</i>, unloading a +cargo of wine; they crossed by night to Naples, and Peppino +showed Brancaccia Pompeii and all the sights; then they went to +Rome for a few days and on, through Florence, to Venice. +They stayed there a week, and then Vanni, having unloaded his +wine, took them down the Adriatic and brought them safely home +again.</p> +<p>“It was sun,” said Peppino, “and we was in +Venice, Sammarco Place, where is—how speak you the +colomba?—Excuse me, it is the dove. And there was +different other people also—love-people, the young ones +that go to the field in the spring to take the flower Margherita, +and to be pulling the leaves to know the future, plenty many; +also sposi, and some that bring the macchina to make the picture, +and the bride was to be standing with the colomba in the +hand. She put the grain in the hand, and would have a +colomba that was with his feet in her finger and eat the grain; +but the bridegroom was not clever to take the photograph and the +colomba was—what is it?—he was finish his grain and +flied away, and she was telling to her sposo:</p> +<p>“‘Now you are not clever to take the photograph +and you shall be obliged to pay for another packet of +grain.’</p> +<p>“In the second time, not only a colomba was in the hand +but also another one was stopping in the hat very large with the +colomba, too large, I am not certain that the bridegroom was able +to take all the photograph.”</p> +<p>Whereupon Brancaccia interposed, producing the result, and I +exclaimed:</p> +<p>“Why, it is Brancaccia herself! I did not know you +meant that this happened to you. I thought you were telling +me about other sposi, not about yourselves.”</p> +<p>Then they laughed together, and I saw that Brancaccia, by +showing me the photograph, had let out more than was <!-- page +24--><a name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +24</span>intended, unless perhaps it was all intended; either +way, no harm was done, and I was allowed to put the picture in my +pocket.</p> +<p>Carmelo came to clear away the tea, and I said:</p> +<p>“It seems to me, Peppino, that you have a new +waiter. What has become of Letterio?”</p> +<p>“Ah! you do not know about Letterio. Now I shall +tell you.”</p> +<p>At this point it became necessary for Brancaccia to disappear +somewhat suddenly with the baby.</p> +<p>“It was festa,” said Peppino, “and Letterio +was drinking and his friends were telling to drink some more, and +he was drinking plenty much. Then was he going out in a +very hurry and was telling that he would be married very directly +and was meeting a girl and was telling: ‘Please, you, marry +me this day.’ And the girl was telling: ‘Go +away, Letterio, you are a drunk man.’ And he was +finding another girl and they was telling the same +things—plenty girls—all that day. Afterwards +many weeks are passing and Letterio don’t be asking to be +married, he was telling always that he would not be married +never, never, never; also with the suspicion that no girl would +take him. Excuse me, it is like the man who was fell down +from the horse and was telling that he was go down—was not +fell down. And it was festa again and Letterio was drinking +plenty much again and was going on the street again and was +meeting a girl again and was telling: ‘Please, you, marry +me very directly.’ And the girl was replying: +‘Yes.’“</p> +<p>“But surely,” I exclaimed, “surely they were +not so silly as to get married when he was sober, were +they?”</p> +<p>It seemed, however, that they were. To save the expense +and avoid the chaff that would have attended a marriage in +Castellinaria, they went to the next village for a couple of days +and returned married.</p> +<p>“But when the man,” said Peppino, “must be +finding the courage in the bottle, this is not a good +thing. The <!-- page 25--><a name="page25"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 25</span>courage for the happy marriage must +be in the heart. We know that good wine it is sincero, it +makes to be speaking the truth; yes, very likely. But the +wine it is sometimes traditore, it can also be telling +the—what is bugia? Excuse me, it is the +lie.”</p> +<p>“And so Letterio is married?”</p> +<p>“Look here, he was married. Now I shall tell +you. Oh! what a bad woman she was! Impossible to keep +her in the albergo. ‘Please go away, Letterio; I am +very sorry; you and your wife also.’ And went away, +to his home in Messina and his wife also. In the winter was +coming the disaster, the terremoto, the earthquake, and the city +was finished to be consumed and the train was bringing the +fugitives all day and all night. I was down to the station, +Brancaccia was making ready the beds, Carmelo was driving them up +and was bringing more and then more—broken people, also +whole people, all without nothing, very undressed, and the +albergo was became a hospital, a refugio, and the doctors were +committing operations upon them in the bedrooms and were curing +them and curing them till they died and went away in the +cimitero—Oh! it was very pitiful—and sometimes they +were repairing them and sending them away in the train. And +I was making the journey with the hopeness to un-dig +Letterio. During three days was I searching the mournful +ruins of Messina but I don’t be finding Letterio, nor alive +nor dead, nor his wife, and I am unhappy; also Brancaccia is +unhappy. This is why she was now going away with +Ricuzzu.”</p> +<p>“Oh! I thought probably the baby had—”</p> +<p>“Yes, many times that is the explication, but this time +it is other; it is that she don’t like to be hearing the +story of Letterio. I shall tell you that Brancaccia is a +gentle person, very tender in the heart.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” I agreed, “of course she is. +But are not you both making too much of this? You could not +have known there would be an earthquake in Messina. If +there was to <!-- page 26--><a name="page26"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 26</span>be one it might have been in some +other city, and they would not have been destroyed.”</p> +<p>“Look here; perhaps she was not a so bad woman; perhaps +some day she would be making a little Ricuzzu and would be +learning to be a good woman.”</p> +<p>“She might learn very slowly or not at all; and think of +her poor husband all the time!”</p> +<p>“Let us talk of something other. Do you remember +Alfio Mascalucía?”</p> +<p>“Perhaps; what did he do?”</p> +<p>“You were always calling him Bellini.”</p> +<p>“In the barber’s shop opposite? Of course, I +remember him, but I had no idea he had such a magnificent name or +I never should have dared to take liberties with it.”</p> +<p>I remembered him very well. I remembered going into the +shop one day and he was alone, busy writing at a table in the +corner. He said he was composing a polka. He had +ruled his own staves because, like Schubert, he could not afford +to buy music paper; he wanted all the money he could save to pay +a publisher to publish his polka—just as we do in +England—and if it succeeded his fortune would be +made. I felt a sinking at the heart, as though he was +telling me he had been gazing on the mirage of the lottery until +he had dreamt a number. He had filled about two pages and a +half with polka stuff, but had not yet composed the +conclusion.</p> +<p>“You see, what I must do is to make it arrive there +where the bars end” (he had drawn his bar lines by +anticipation); “that will not be difficult; it is the +beginning that is difficult—the tema. It does not +much matter now what I write for the coda in those empty bars, +but I must fill them all with something.”</p> +<p>I said, “Yes. That, of course—well, of +course, that is the proper spirit in which to compose a +polka.”</p> +<p>As I had shown myself so intelligent, he often talked to me +about his music and his studies; he had an Italian translation of +Cherubini’s <i>Treatise</i>, and had nearly finished <!-- +page 27--><a name="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +27</span>all the exercises down to the end of florid counterpoint +in four parts. His professor was much pleased with him, and +had congratulated him upon possessing a mind full of resource and +originality—just the sort of mind that is required for +composing music of the highest class. He explained to me +that counterpoint is a microcosm. In life we have destiny +from which there is no escape; in counterpoint we have the canto +fermo of which not a note may be altered. Destiny, like the +canto fermo, is dictated for us by One who is more learned and +more skilful than we; it is for us to accept what is given, and +to compose a counterpoint, many counterpoints, that shall flow +over and under and through, without breaking any of the rules, +until we reach the full close, which is the inevitable end of +both counterpoint and life.</p> +<p>I called him Bellini because he told me that the composer of +<i>Norma</i> had attained to a proficiency in counterpoint which +was miraculous, and that he was the greatest musician the world +had ever known. This high praise was given to Bellini +partly, of course, because he was a native of Catania. +London is a long way from Catania, and in England perhaps we +rather neglect Italian music of the early part of last +century. Once, at Casale-Monferrato, I heard a travelling +company do <i>I Puritani</i>; they did it extremely well, and I +thought the music charming, especially one sparkling little tune +sung by Sir Giorgio to warn Sir Riccardo that if he should see a +couple of fantasmas they would be those of Elvira and Lord +Arturo. Alfio may have been thinking of the maxim, +“Ars est celare artem,” and may have meant to say +that Bellini had shown himself a more learned contrapuntist than +(say) Bach, by concealing his contrapuntal skill more effectually +than Bach had managed to conceal his in the <i>Mass in B +minor</i>. While my hair was being cut I examined the polka +with interest; it was quite carefully done, the bass was figured +all through and the discords were all resolved in the orthodox +manner; after the shop <!-- page 28--><a name="page28"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 28</span>was shut he came over to the albergo +and played it to us on the piano in the salon. I should say +it was a very good polka, as polkas go, and certainly more in the +manner of the Catanian maestro than in that of the Leipzig +cantor.</p> +<p>“And what about Alfio?” I asked. “Did +he also marry a bad woman?”</p> +<p>Then Peppino told me the story of the Figlio di Etna. He +called him this because he came from a village on the slopes of +the volcano, where his parents kept a small inn, the Albergo +Mongibello, and where also lived his cousin Maria, to whom he was +engaged. In the days when he used to talk to me about his +counterpoint, Alfio was about twenty-four, and always so +exceedingly cheerful and full of his music that no one would have +suspected that his private life was being carried on in an +inferno, yet so it was; a widow had fallen in love with him, and +had insisted on his living with her. “And look +here,” said Peppino, “the bad day for Alfio was the +day when he went to the house of the widow.” He was +too much galantuomo to resist; he had not forgotten Maria but he +thought she could wait, and besides, he was at first flattered by +the widow’s attentions and amused by the novelty of the +situation; but he never cared for the widow, and soon his chains +became unbearable. As Peppino said, “There +don’t be some word to tell the infernalness it is when you +are loved by the woman you hate.” He exercised his +contrapuntal ingenuity by devising schemes for circumventing this +troublesome passage in the canto fermo of his life without +breaking any of the rules, and finally hit upon the device of +running away. So many men in a similar difficulty have done +the same thing, that his professor, and even the stern Cherubini +himself, would have condemned the progression less on account of +its harshness and irregularity than because of its lack of +originality. He scraped together about fifty francs and +disappeared to Livorno where he soon found work in a +barber’s shop, cutting hair, trimming and shaving beards +and whiskers, <!-- page 29--><a name="page29"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 29</span>and making wigs for the +theatre. He wrote the widow two letters containing nothing +but conventional compliments, and displayed his resource and +originality by posting one in the country and sending the other +to a friend in Genoa who posted it there.</p> +<p>After about three months of freedom, counterpoint and +hair-dressing, he was sent for to return to his village for a few +days and vote; Peppino anticipated my inquiry about the money for +the journey by protesting that he knew nothing about the details +of politics. However it may have been managed, Alfio got +leave from his employer, went home and voted. He said +nothing about the widow, but he promised Maria to return and +marry her in a year, when he should have saved enough +money. He did not know how he was going to do it, but he +had to say something. Then the silly fellow must needs go +for a day to Castellinaria to salute his friends in the +barber’s shop there—just as murderers seem never to +learn that it is injudicious to re-visit the scenes of their +crimes. Naturally the widow heard of his being in the town, +they met in the street and had a terrible row. What +frightened poor Alfio most was a sort of half persuasion that +perhaps he had behaved badly to her. But he did not relent; +he returned to his village, bade farewell to his family, embraced +his adorata mamma, renewed his promise to Maria, went down to +Catania, entered the station and turned pale as he saw the widow +sitting in a corner with a parcel and a bundle.</p> +<p>“Where are you going?”</p> +<p>“I am coming with you.”</p> +<p>He had let out that he would return to Livorno in a few days, +and she had resolved to accompany him, wherever he might be +going. She had sold all her furniture in a hurry and come +to Catania, knowing that he must start from there. She +waited for him inside the station when it was open, outside when +it was shut; she had to wait four days and four nights. She +refused to leave him. She bought her own ticket and +travelled with him. They <!-- page 30--><a +name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 30</span>settled down +in Livorno—if that can be called settling down which was a +continual hurly-burly; the only repose about it appeared in the +bar’s rests to which poor Alfio’s counterpoint was +now reduced. He grew irritable, abused her and beat her; +but she was one of those women who love their man more +passionately the more he knocks them about. Maria sent him +a post-card for his onomastico, and the widow got hold of +it. This led to his leaving the house for a few nights, but +she had always taken his money for housekeeping, so he had not +enough to leave the town, and she came to the shop in the daytime +and made such a disturbance that he was frightened into +returning. He dreamt of disguising himself in one of his +own theatrical wigs and escaping so, but the idea was too like +some of those contrapuntal combinations which, as Cherubini says, +may be employed in a study-fugue, but which in practical music, +as in practical life, have to be weeded out by artificial +selection.</p> +<p>Then his mother fell ill, and the family sent him the money to +go home to embrace her. The widow had put some of his money +by for an emergency. She was not going to lose sight of him +again, especially now that she knew about Maria; she bought a +ticket and came too. They spent the night at her +brother’s house in Catania and Alfio was to go next day to +his village. She said she would come too, he said that +nothing would induce him to take her with him. She implored +and stormed and spat and swore, knowing all the time she could +not appear in his village as belonging to him, and fearing that +he intended to manipulate his going home alone into a way of +escape. She pretended to acquiesce but, in the morning, as +he was passing through the Quattro Canti she was there, disguised +as a man in her brother’s clothes, and before Alfio could +recognise her she had stabbed him in the back and he fell down +dead.</p> +<p>“But, Peppino,” I exclaimed, “this is a +worse tragedy than the other. What a horrible +woman!”</p> +<p><!-- page 31--><a name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +31</span>“The Padre Eterno was very angry that day when he +made the bad woman.”</p> +<p>“Where is she now?”</p> +<p>“In prison.”</p> +<p>“That is no satisfaction to poor Alfio.”</p> +<p>“No; and not satisfaction to his family. His +mother died of grief during that they were telling her his +murder.”</p> +<p>“And Maria?”</p> +<p>“Maria is telling that she would becoming a +monkey-woman.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> +<p>“How do you say in English the lady-priest, the +monaca?”</p> +<p>“Oh! yes,—a nun. But it seems a pity she +should take such a serious step. It is a dreadful story, +Peppino.”</p> +<p>“Yes; and I am fortunate because I also meet the bad +woman.”</p> +<p>“Was Alfio’s widow a friend of yours?”</p> +<p>“No; I meet her in London.”</p> +<p>“I’m glad she did not stab you.”</p> +<p>“Not the widow—some other woman.”</p> +<p>“I don’t quite understand.”</p> +<p>“It is difficult to understand—difficult to be +sure when it is the bad woman. The bad woman is like +mosquitoes—not wanted but would not go away.”</p> +<p>“Tell me what happened.”</p> +<p>“When I was in London, I was at this place where is +the—please, what is campo? No, not campo, but where +is the beast with the horn in the head—the +cervo?”</p> +<p>“Ah! yes, the deer. You mean the Zoological +Gardens.”</p> +<p>“No, no. This place where is the villa with the +red palazzo and the chief labours of painting and beds and +chinesy images are over the place where is coming the fire in the +winter-time, and on the wall is also the armatura and the deer it +is in the trees on the side of the river.”</p> +<p>“I believe you mean Hampton Court.”</p> +<p><!-- page 32--><a name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +32</span>“Yes, and was telling to the lady—she was a +very kind lady—”</p> +<p>“But please, what lady? Alfio’s widow was +not at Hampton Court?”</p> +<p>“She was the wife of the plumber.”</p> +<p>“I am afraid I am very stupid, Peppino, but I +don’t seem to get hold of it. Who is the +plumber?”</p> +<p>“I meet him at Margate; also his lady, his wife; they +invite me to their house; I accept their invitation.”</p> +<p>“But Margate is not Hampton Court.”</p> +<p>“No, they inhabit Hampton Court; they go to Margate for +the villeggiatura, for the—how do you say?—for the +baths of the sea.”</p> +<p>“Oh, now I understand. You met them at Margate and +they invited you to call on them at their house at Hampton +Court.”</p> +<p>“Of course, yes. And when I arrive, the husband, +the plumber, he went away with his tools for his work in a sack, +and his lady she says to me, ‘Please sit down.’ +And we talk together. She was a very kind lady. And +presently—she was on the sofa by the window and I was in a +chair by the fire—presently her husband return. I was +like a fish not in his water, but oh! it was my salvation. +Why must he be leaving us together? She was a very kind +lady. And then to be returning without noise, so soon and +so sudden. Do you think—?”</p> +<p>I did not know. It looked rather like it, but the +psychology of the Hampton Court plumber resembles the Italian +music of the early part of last century in that it is but little +studied among us. So I congratulated him on his escape, and +inquired whether any of Alfio’s compositions had been +published.</p> +<p>“Alfio don’t be writing no +compositions.”</p> +<p>“He told me he was composing music.”</p> +<p>“Alfio never compose something. Too busy. +Look here, the student that shall be always making the exercise +he don’t be never composing the music.”</p> +<p><!-- page 33--><a name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +33</span>“But that polka? Don’t you remember he +came over to the albergo and played us his polka?”</p> +<p>“Alfio don’t write the polka. His professor +gave him the polka to copy for study.”</p> +<p>“Oh! I see. Well, now don’t you think we +have had enough tragedies? Has nothing pleasant happened in +the town since—? What a stupid question! Here +is Brancaccia bringing the answer.”</p> +<p>Brancaccia not only brought the baby, she also brought to show +me the clothes in which he had been christened, just as on my +last visit, before he was born, she had brought and shown me the +clothes in which she had been married. I have a confused +recollection of fine muslin and embroidery and pretty gay +ribbons. I remember more clearly her necklace of Sicilian +amber which has been in the family for generations and, in the +natural order of things, will one day be passed on to the wife of +Ricuzzu. Each piece of amber is circular, flat underneath +and convex above, and is surrounded with a fine golden band +whereby it is joined to the next, side by side. The two +smallest, at the back of the wearer’s neck, near the clasp, +are about as big as threepenny bits, and the pieces increase in +size through sixpences, shillings, florins, half-crowns, until +the one in the middle on her breast is nearly as large as a +five-shilling piece. They are all sorts of colours, +honey-yellow, rich orange, Venetian red, brown sherry, some clear +and some clouded, some have insects in them, some when held +properly in the sunlight, have a fluorescent, hazy tinge like the +blue in a horse’s eye, some are a peacock-green and others +a deep purple. The largest piece is green, and has objects +in it which Brancaccia says are cherry-blossoms. Peppino +accepts his wife’s view because it amuses him to call this +piece The Field of Enna, where Proserpine was gathering flowers +when Pluto carried her off, and these are the flowers she was +gathering. But he knows that this kind of amber is called +Simetite, because it is the fossilised resin of some prehistoric +tree that used to grow <!-- page 34--><a name="page34"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 34</span>on the upper reaches of the river +Simeto which rises at the back of Etna, beyond Bronte, and falls +into the sea near Catania; whereas Castrogiovanni, which is the +modern Enna, is not on the Simeto. Castrogiovanni is, +however, not far from the upper part of another river, which +falls into the Simeto near the sea. And he argues that if +The Field of Enna was washed down the Castrogiovanni river it may +still have exuded from a tree of the same kind as those that used +to grow on the Simeto, and in any case it had to pass through the +mouth of the Simeto before reaching the sea, and so it may be +called Simetite. Having got into the sea, it was thrown up +in a storm or found in a fisherman’s net.</p> +<p>Then I must be shown the mule, with his beautiful harness, and +the new cart which Ricuzzu had received as a birthday present +from his grandfather; so we went to the stable. The cart +was painted with the story of Orlando’s madness, showing +first how he had gone to bed in his boots; or rather how he lay +outside a bed that was too short for him with all his armour on, +like a lobster on a dish. This occurred in the house of a +contadino who was standing with a lighted candle in his hand and +had brought his wife. They did not know to whom they were +speaking, and were telling him that the room had been occupied +last by a knight and his lady and that the lady, in gratitude for +their hospitality, had given the contadina a bracelet, saying +that she had received it as a present from Orlando. And +Orlando was exclaiming:</p> +<p>“Show me that bracelet.”</p> +<p>In the second picture the contadina had brought the bracelet, +and Orlando was sitting up, contemplating it and saying:</p> +<p>“It is the bracelet which I gave to Angelica. The +last occupants of this bed must have been that fatal woman and +her husband Medoro. I am Orlando Paladino.”</p> +<p>These were the two panels on one side of the cart. On +the other side, the third picture showed Orlando, who had <!-- +page 35--><a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +35</span>got off the bed, and was standing up delivering a long +“Addio” in the manner of Othello—one could +almost hear the words: “Orlando’s occupation’s +gone.” The contadino and his wife were furtively +leaving the room, perhaps because poetry bored these simple folk, +but it may have been because Orlando, having no further use for +his arms, was punctuating his speech by throwing away first la +Durlindana, next his shield, then his helmet, his cuirass, front +and back, his leggings, and his shirt.</p> +<p>In the last picture he had nothing on but a pair of short +white drawers; he had gone quite mad and had knocked down the +house; its fall revealed a smiling landscape across which +peasants and sheep were escaping, and the trees shook with the +violence of his fury. He was catching some of the peasants +and throwing them away, shouting and cursing that fatal woman, +and struggling to drown the music and the drum, which made a +crescendo till the curtain fell. I should have recognised +it even if the pictures had not had titles, because I had +recently seen it in a marionette theatre.</p> +<p>The harness cost as much as the cart, and it took a month to +make it. It was of leather, wood and metal, tasselled with +gold and silver and wool of many colours; here and there were +sparkling bits of looking-glass, and little pictures of ladies; +here and there circles and crescents of blue and red felt, and +little pictures of cupids and angels. Other spaces were +covered with silver tinsel and spangles. There were spread +eagles and horses’ heads and two bouquets of artificial +flowers. There was a St. George and the Dragon carved in +wood and painted, there were bells and ribbons, and two trophies +of coloured feathers, one for the head and another for the back, +each more magnificent, and three or four times larger, than the +plume which the maresciallo dei carabinieri wears with his gala +uniform.</p> +<h3><!-- page 36--><a name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +36</span>CHAPTER II<br /> +FESTA RIMANDATA</h3> +<p>One day the bells were ringing for the festa of S. Somebody, +but it was not really his day. Peppino told me that his +proper day had been stormy or unsympathetic or the people had had +some crops to get in or something else to do, and so the saint +had had his festa shifted; or it may have been because some +greater festival had fallen on S. Somebody’s day owing to +the mutability of Easter or for some other reason. I had +been wishing I could have been at Castellinaria for the first +anniversary of Ricuzzu’s birth, I ought to have wished to +be there for the festa of S. Enrico, but I did not know when it +fell, nor did Peppino; but if festas might be transferred in this +easy way, perhaps we might keep it now and find out afterwards to +what extent it had been shifted. It would have been no use +consulting the baby—besides, he would have been sure to +agree—so as they were not very busy in the albergo it was +decided that next day we would keep the onomastico of Ricuzzu and +his padrino by driving down to the shore, throwing stones into +the sea, and perhaps eating a couple of peperoni with a drop of +oil and vinegar and a pinch of salt.</p> +<p>Next morning the mule, the cart and the harness were brought +out; it was the first time they had all been used together, and +when Peppino and Carmelo had harnessed the little beast, he +trotted up and down in the sunshine as proud as though he had +been clothed in a rainbow and freshened up with dewdrops.</p> +<p>I said: “Do you keep the onomastico of the mule +also? It seems to me that he is as much pleased with +himself as anyone. He looks as though he thought everything +belonged to him. What is his name and when is his +day?”</p> +<p><!-- page 37--><a name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +37</span>“We call him Guido Santo,” replied +Peppino. “We will make it his festa also and +afterwards we shall be discovering his day in the +calendario.”</p> +<p>“And if it comes to that,” I said, “why +shouldn’t we include you and Brancaccia?”</p> +<p>“Bravo!” shouted Peppino, “and Carmelo +also. Festa rimandata per tutti!”</p> +<p>A chair for Brancaccia and the baby was tied in the cart among +a multitude of parcels and baskets about which I thought it +better not to inquire. Peppino and I sat on the floor in +front, like the driver and his mate on an illustrated post-card, +with our feet dangling down between the shafts among the +mule’s hind legs. Carmelo started us off and got in +behind, and we drove to the sea, not the way to the station and +the port, but by the road that descends on the other side of the +headland. We passed by groves of lemon, star-scattered with +fruit and blossom and enclosed in rough walls of black lava; by +the grey-green straggling of the prickly pears and by vines +climbing up their canes. We caught glimpses of promontories +dotted with pink and white cottages and of the thread of foam +that outlines the curve of the bay where a train was busily +puffing along by the stony, brown beach, showing how much a +little movement will tell in a still landscape. Behind the +shimmering olives, first on one side, then on the other as we +turned with the zig-zags of the dusty road, was the purple blue +of the sea flecked with the white sails of fishing-boats and with +the crests of whiter waves. Every one we met looked at us +and admired the splendour of the cart and the sparkling newness +of the harness until they caught sight of Brancaccia and the +baby, and then they saw nothing but their beauty. We met +the man who was riding up from the fishing village with baskets +of fish for the town because it was Friday. Peppino and +Carmelo disputed as to the amount he was carrying, and agreed at +last that it must be about a hundred kilogrammes, partly by the +quantity and partly because it had been <!-- page 38--><a +name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 38</span>good weather +for fishing; when it is bad he cannot bring more than thirty, +forty or fifty.</p> +<p>Peppino told me that our mule was the offspring of an ass and +a mare. These, he says, are better than those born of a +horse and a she-ass. Mules can be male or female, and Guido +Santo was a male but, except for the fact that the males are +stronger than the females, the sex of a creature that is +incapable of reproducing itself is not a very interesting +subject. Our mule was still young, and had not yet learnt +the use of corners, nor how to pass things in the road. +Carmelo often had to get down and continue his education. +After one of these lessons he lighted his pipe with a sulphur +match which tainted the morning air and offended Ricuzzu; but +almost immediately we came to a forge and the blacksmith was +striking a piece of iron on his anvil.</p> +<p>“Ricuzzu bello,” said Brancaccia, “listen to +the pretty music.”</p> +<p>And Ricuzzu listened and laughed; the pleasant acid flavour of +the note as it followed us corrected the sulphur, and he put up +his face for a kiss. Brancaccia knew how to smooth away his +troubles and how to deserve his thanks.</p> +<p>We passed a boy singing, and I said how pleasant it was to +hear a real Sicilian melody sung by a modern Theocritus about the +delights of his own country. But Peppino soon put a stop to +that. The boy was one of a theatrical company that had +arrived in the town from Piedmont where the song was popular; he +did not know all the words, but it contained these:</p> +<blockquote><p>Mamma mia, dammi cento lire<br /> +Chè in America voglio andar.<br /> +Mother darling, give me a hundred lire<br /> +For I want to be off to the States.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“Are they acting here?” I asked.</p> +<p>“They are reciting <i>Il Diavolo Verde</i>. You +don’t will go and see this evening?”</p> +<p><!-- page 39--><a name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +39</span>“If Brancaccia is not too tired, let us finish up +Ricuzzu’s festa by a visit to the theatre.”</p> +<p>The baby was wide awake all the time, observing everything, +and much interested. I said:</p> +<p>“I believe Ricuzzu understands that we are keeping his +onomastico.”</p> +<p>“Of course, yes,” replied Peppino; “Ricuzzu +very intelligent.”</p> +<p>“I believe he even understands that it is not S. +Enrico’s day, and appreciates the idea of keeping his festa +when it is convenient for everyone.”</p> +<p>“Of course, yes; the idea is the thing. Always it +is the idea. Did you know the idea of the girl who went to +confess?”</p> +<p>“What is that?”</p> +<p>“Not now. Please expect. I am too much busy +with Guido Santo. Please, when we shall be +there.”</p> +<p>On arriving at the shore we first found a cove where +Brancaccia and Ricuzzu could be comfortable while Peppino, +Carmelo and I went a little way off into a secluded place behind +the rocks, undressed and bathed. We swam round and saluted +the mother and child in their cove, but could not get near enough +to splash them because the water was only a few inches deep near +the shore and the proprieties had to be observed. When we +were tired of swimming we came out and dressed. Then I took +the baby while Peppino and Brancaccia went round into our +dressing-room and he superintended her bath. Carmelo, in +the meantime constructed a fireplace among the rocks and got his +cooking things and all the parcels and baskets out of the +cart. Peppino and Brancaccia returned, and we found a +shallow, shady pool with a sandy bottom, undressed Ricuzzu, and +put him into it. I observed that the baby’s clothes +were reefed with safety pins, but I said nothing about it, +thinking the reefs could be let out when he had attained twice +the age he was when they were bought. The proprieties did +not matter with this bather, who <!-- page 40--><a +name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 40</span>soon learnt +how to splash us. It may have been his padrino’s +vanity, but I thought he laughed loudest when he succeeded in +splashing me.</p> +<p>The couple of peperoni had swelled into a regular +colazione. First, of course, we had pasta, this time it was +called lingue di passeri (sparrows’ tongues), they have +fifty different names for it according to its size and shape, but +it is always pasta. Carmelo made a sauce for it over his +fire with oil, onions, extract of tomatoes, and certain herbs; +the recipe is a secret which is to be imparted to Ricuzzu when he +is fifteen, but I think Brancaccia has already guessed it, though +she is not supposed to know. As a rule, I try to get only +half as much pasta as a Sicilian takes, and of that I can only +eat half, but on this occasion, either because of Carmelo’s +cooking or the sea breeze, or the presence of Ricuzzu, I ate it +all, and it made me feel like Rinaldo after the terrible fight in +which he kills the centaur and stands at the wings panting for +breath.</p> +<p>The pasta was followed by bacon and figs—an unexpectedly +delicious combination; the bacon is uncooked and cut very thin, +the figs are fresh and ripe, but it would not do in England +because, although one could probably find the bacon in Soho, our +figs never attain to Sicilian ripeness. Carmelo then +surpassed himself with a pollo alla cacciatora, after which we +had a mixed fry of all sorts of fish. Peaches out of the +garden and cheese followed. Also we drank Peppino’s +own wine made from the grapes he had planted with his own hands +and trodden with his own feet, and there was coffee with the +cigarettes.</p> +<p>I said: “I did not know Carmelo was a cook, I thought he +was a coachman.”</p> +<p>“Also is he a cook. Also the nurse of +Ricuzzu. Also a waiter. Very good boy Carmelo. +We took him when Letterio went away.”</p> +<p>“And Brancaccia is not afraid to have him as +Ricuzzu’s nurse?”</p> +<p>“Afraid? No. Why?”</p> +<p><!-- page 41--><a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +41</span>“Because he has been in prison for stabbing his +friend.”</p> +<p>“Oh yes, in prison. But his friend was a bad man, +was taking away Carmelo’s girl.”</p> +<p>“Did the friend marry Carmelo’s girl?”</p> +<p>“Yes, and Carmelo got another girl. Plenty girls +very fond of Carmelo. Look here, the girls always are +liking the boy that has been in prison.”</p> +<p>“Yes; well, of course, one can understand that. By +the by, what was that about the girl who went to +confess?”</p> +<p>“Did you know what is confess? All right, I shall +tell you. The box is inside for the priest behind the +railings, and the other place that is open is for the man or the +woman that have sinned. And the girl is coming and is +saying:</p> +<p>“‘My father, I have sinned. I had the idea +to rob my sister of a hen, but I would not do it. What is +this?’</p> +<p>“The father was telling, ‘It is a very bad +idea.’</p> +<p>“And the girl was repeating that she don’t be +doing the wickedness, only the idea.</p> +<p>“‘Never mind,’ was telling the father, +‘it is the idea that is the thing, and you would be fined +with five francs to the church to make the Messa and the church +would give the Messa for the sin and the sin would be delivered +after the Messa.’</p> +<p>“The girl takes from her pocket the five francs and put +to the railings. The father is telling:</p> +<p>“‘It is not possible to touch. Please give +me from the door.’</p> +<p>“The girl was answering:</p> +<p>“‘Never mind; you have the idea to take the money +and it is the idea that is the thing.’</p> +<p>“Did you understand? All right, please take to +eat. Some more fish?”</p> +<p>“No, thank you,” I replied.</p> +<p>“Please take some more pollo.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, Peppino, I have eaten too much +already.”</p> +<p>“Please take to the drink.”</p> +<p><!-- page 42--><a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +42</span>“I have had quite enough, thank you.”</p> +<p>“Some more wine? Do not think about +Letterio. You shall not be meeting your dolce +cuore—your sweetheart, this day. You have not yet +taken one glass.”</p> +<p>“Excuse me, I have drunk quite as much as is good for +me—much more than a glass—nearly a bottle.”</p> +<p>“It is good till you shall drink the three glasses of +Noah. Did you know what is the glass of Noah? All +right, I shall tell you.”</p> +<p>Then he told me about Noah and the Devil.</p> +<p>The patriarch Noah was working in his field one day when the +Devil came along, put his arms on top of the gate, and looking +over, said in a friendly way:</p> +<p>“Good morning, Mr. Noah.”</p> +<p>“Good morning, Mr. Devil,” replied Noah. +“And what can I do for you?”</p> +<p>“Do not let me interrupt; you seem busy this +morning.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Noah; “I am planting the +vine.”</p> +<p>“Oho!” said the Devil, “but this is rather +interesting.”</p> +<p>So he slipped inside the field and took a seat on a large +white stone. Noah went on with his work.</p> +<p>A lion was prowling round and came through the gate which the +Devil had carelessly left open. The Devil killed the lion +and watered the vine with its blood.</p> +<p>“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” said Noah +testily.</p> +<p>The Devil paid no attention. A monkey dropped down from +a tree and came skipping up to them to see what was going +on. The Devil killed the monkey and watered the vine with +its blood.</p> +<p>“Can’t you leave the poor beasts alone?” +said Noah, who had always deprecated cruelty to animals, and was +beginning to lose his temper.</p> +<p>The Devil paid no attention. A pig was wallowing in the +mud close by—there had been a good deal of rain +lately. The Devil killed the pig and watered the vine with +its blood.</p> +<p>This was too much for Noah. He shouted: +“Haven’t <!-- page 43--><a name="page43"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 43</span>you got any work of your own to do, +you lazy devil?” He was so angry he forgot to say +“Mr.” “You had better go home; your +dinner will be getting cold.”</p> +<p>“‘Hot’ you mean,” replied the Devil, +looking for his hat, which had fallen behind the large white +stone. “What an ungrateful husbandman you are! +I have been helping you to make your wine. When you have +drunk the first glass, you will feel strong and behave +furiously. When you have drunk the second glass, you will +forget how to think for yourself, you will imitate other people +and behave foolishly. When you have drunk the third +glass—Need I continue? I think not. Good +morning.”</p> +<p>Whereupon the Devil put his hands into his pockets, tucked his +tail up under his left arm and swaggered away, thinking of his +next job and whistling “La Donna è +Mobile.”</p> +<p>“And the glass of Noah,” said Peppino in +conclusion, “was containing one bottle. Did you +understand? All right; I give you a medal.”</p> +<p>“I hope it will be a real medal and not like the idea of +the girl.”</p> +<p>“We shall see. Please take to drink the milk of +Ricuzzu.”</p> +<p>The baby had had one bottle of milk, but there was another +ready for him. I said:</p> +<p>“My dear Peppino, I could not eat or drink another +mouthful of anything. I could not even eat a slice of +Ricuzzu himself; besides, I don’t believe Carmelo knows how +to cook babies—not so as to make them really +tasty.”</p> +<p>Brancaccia understood enough to know we were talking about +Ricuzzu. She left off clearing away, and snatched the baby +out of Carmelo’s arms, whispering to me: “I know it +is all right, but I shall feel safer if I have him.”</p> +<p>Peppino, who was lying on his back, observed her agitation out +of the corner of his eye and said to me, maliciously speaking +Italian so that she should understand:</p> +<p>“If you would like to eat the baby, please say whether +<!-- page 44--><a name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +44</span>Carmelo shall boil him or cut him up and stew him alla +cacciatora.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, no. I prefer Ricuzzu alive.”</p> +<p>“You are a bad papa,” said Brancaccia, “and +the compare is a good man.”</p> +<p>So she gave me the baby as a reward and slapped her +husband’s cheek as a punishment. Peppino naturally +retaliated, and in a moment they were rolling over and over and +bear-fighting like a couple of kittens at play, while Carmelo and +I sat and laughed at them, and the baby crowed and clapped his +hands and grew so excited I could scarcely hold him.</p> +<p>There came a pause and Peppino said: “My dear, if you +will leave off boxing my ears I will tell you a +secret.”</p> +<p>Brancaccia instantly desisted and went and sat apart to +recover herself.</p> +<p>Peppino continued: “I knew the compare would refuse to +eat the baby. He does not like our Sicilian dishes. +Every time he comes to see us it is a penitenza for him, because +he cannot eat food grown in our island. But I know what I +shall do. I shall send a telegram to London: ‘English +gentleman starving in Castellinaria. Please send at once +one chop, one bottle of stout.’</p> +<p>“Look here,” he continued, suddenly sitting up and +becoming serious. “It is the clime. Here is the +country not adapted to the beast, few rain, few grass, few beefs, +few muttons, and all too thin and the land is good only for the +goats and we must be eating such things that are doing bad to the +stomaco—the little chickens and the poor fishes and the +pasta—not other. In England shall be falling always +the rain and plenty grass shall be growing and the beefs and the +muttons shall be fat and much nourishment shall come to those who +are eating them.”</p> +<p>I said that if I could have chops and stout instead of the few +odds and ends which Carmelo had managed to scrape together for +our ridiculously inadequate luncheon, <!-- page 45--><a +name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 45</span>of course I +should stay at Castellinaria and never go home any more.</p> +<p>So that was settled for the time, and Brancaccia, having put +herself tidy, proposed a visit to the grottoes. Carmelo +packed up his kitchen and took it off to the cart. On the +way he met his cousin, borrowed his boat and came rowing in +it—for Carmelo is also a fisherman. We got in and +rowed round the promontory and into the caves. The baby was +a good deal puzzled, he thought he was indoors, and yet it +wasn’t right, but he was pleased. When we were tired +of the grottoes we rowed back, restored the boat to +Carmelo’s cousin, packed ourselves into the cart and Guido +Santo took us up the zig-zags to Castellinaria after a day which +we all enjoyed very much; Ricuzzu, who understood least, perhaps +enjoyed it most, but then this baby enjoys everything. If +we could have remanded his festa for a few years, instead of only +a few days or weeks or whatever it was, he might have understood +more and enjoyed less.</p> +<p>Ricuzzu did not come to the theatre, he was supposed to be +tired, so Brancaccia put him to bed and, leaving him with +Carmelo, accompanied Peppino and me to see <i>Il Diavolo +Verde</i>. We took our seats while the fiancée of +Don Giuseppe, assisted by her lady’s-maid, was endeavouring +to make up her mind. The difficulty was that Don Giovanni, +the brother of Giuseppe, had sent her a case of jewels and, like +Margherita, in <i>Faust</i>, she could not resist the temptation +to try them on in front of a looking-glass. We saw in the +glass the reflection of a devil in green with pink +trimmings. He appeared to be standing behind her, looking +over her shoulder, but he was not really present; it must have +been a magic mirror. Don Giovanni came and denounced his +brother who, he said, was a bastard and no gentleman, proving his +words by the production of their father’s will written on a +sheet of brown paper which he always carried in his belt. +This convinced the lady, and she went off with Giovanni. +Don Giuseppe, <!-- page 46--><a name="page46"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 46</span>who had been carried away by armed +men, escaped and returned to meditate on the crisis of his +life. Remembering that the green devil was a retainer of +his family, he summoned him and laid the case before him. +This time the devil really came and told Giuseppe that there was +a way out of his trouble, but that it would involve (1) the +perdition of two souls, (2) the shedding of blood, (3) sacrilege, +(4) perjury, and (5) all his courage. Don Giuseppe agreed +and the curtain fell.</p> +<p>The next act was in the cemetery in front of the tomb of the +father of the two brothers. Don Giuseppe and the green +devil came in, carrying another will, engrossed on brown paper, +but not executed, a bottle of ink, and a quill pen. They +stood in front of the door of the tomb and spoke some +sacrilegious words. The door opened and revealed the corpse +of the father like a Padre Eterno, standing upright, clothed in +white, with a white face, a flowing white beard and white kid +gloves. Brancaccia was, I believe, really as much +frightened as Don Giuseppe pretended to be and I did not like +it. The green devil encouraged his master to approach the +corpse, which he did, first dipping the pen in the +ink-bottle. He offered the pen and held in a convenient +manner the new will which would put everything straight, begging +his father to sign it. The corpse slowly raised its stiff +right arm, took the pen in its hand and signed the will; it then +dropped the pen on the ground, lowered its stiff right arm and +the door of the tomb closed. Except for this, it did not +move and it did not speak at all. It was a ghastly scene +and the house was as still as though it had been empty.</p> +<p>In the next act we returned to Don Giovanni whom we found +playing dice with Fernando at an inn. When Fernando had +lost his money and his jewellery and his lands and his castle and +his furniture, he played for his wife, and Don Giovanni won her +also. Whereupon Fernando wrote two letters to his wife, +one, which they sent by a messenger, told her to come to the inn +at once, the <!-- page 47--><a name="page47"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 47</span>other was for Don Giovanni to give to +her when she came. Fernando then went away, leaving the +coast clear, and the lady entered.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Don Giovanni</span>: Donna Inez, I love +you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Donna Inez</span>: Silence, Sir. I +am here to meet my husband. Where is he?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Don G</span> (<i>giving her the second +letter</i>): He left this for you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Donna I</span> (<i>reads</i>): “Dear +Inez: We have been playing dice. Don Giovanni has +won. You now belong to him. Your affectionate +husband, Fernando.” It cannot be! ’Tis +false! My husband would never behave in so ungentlemanly a +manner.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giov</span>: On the contrary, +Madama. And is not this his handwriting?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span>: Now that I look at it again, it +is. Ah, Cielo! Betrayed! Surely, Sir, you do +not expect me to consent?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giov</span>: Certainly I do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span>: Never. I am a Spanish +lady of high degree.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giov</span>: Inez, I love you. Be +mine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span>: Are you of noble birth?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giov</span>: Yes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span>: Are you valorous?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giov</span>: Yes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span>: Don Giovanni (<i>hiding her +face</i>), I love you!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giov</span>: My own, my beautiful one!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span>: There is, however, one little +difficulty about which, of course, you could have known +nothing. Some years ago I foolishly took an oath. I +swore I would be true to my husband during his life.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giov</span>: Well, but—let me +see—yes, I did bring my sword with me. Suppose I were +to step round and run him through the heart—if you +don’t mind waiting?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span>: I’m afraid it would be +troubling you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giov</span>: Not at all. Any little +thing of that kind. So glad you mentioned it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span>: Thanks. I suppose you +could not manage to bring it off within sight of the window?</p> +<p><!-- page 48--><a name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +48</span><span class="smcap">Giov</span>: I don’t see why +not. Anyhow, I’ll do my best.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Exit</i> <span +class="smcap">Giov</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span>: Waiter! (<i>Enter</i> <span +class="smcap">Waiter</span>.) Lay the cloth for two (<i>She +meditates while the waiter lays the cloth</i>. Exit <span +class="smcap">Waiter</span>.) Being a Spanish lady of high +degree, the only course open to me is suicide. Fortunately, +this ring contains a dose of poison strong enough for two, +otherwise I should have had to die unavenged or to send round to +the chemist’s for more. (<i>She pours out two glasses +of wine</i>, <i>splits the contents of her ring between them</i>, +<i>and goes to the window</i>.) Ah! here they come. +It is annoying that they are so far off. I cannot +distinguish them in the dark; however, they are fighting. +Now one is killed and the other is coming in. I wonder +which it will be.</p> +<p><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Don Giovanni</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giov</span>: There! my own, my beautiful +one. I’m afraid you did not have a very good view, +but your poor husband was such a damned bad swordsman that I +inadvertently killed him before I could get him as near as I +intended.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span>: Well, I confess I should like +to view the body, just to make sure you have not killed the wrong +gentleman–-if you’ve no objection?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giov</span>: None whatever. +You’ll find him in the gutter up the street, under the +third lamp post. (<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Donna +Inez</span>. <span class="smcap">Don Giovanni</span> +<i>observes the two glasses of wine and smells them +suspiciously</i>. <i>Re-enter</i> <span class="smcap">Donna +Inez</span>.)</p> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span>: Perfectly satisfactory and I +thank you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giov</span>: My own, my beautiful +one! I love you! Be mine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span>: Shall we not first have a +little supper? You must be fatigued after your +exertions. And see! here is a nice glass of wine for +you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giov</span>: After you, Madama. +(<span class="smcap">Donna Inez</span> <i>hesitates to +drink</i>.) You see, my beautiful one, I have had some +experience in these matters, and now I never drink anything +poured out for me by a lady unless she drinks some of it +herself.</p> +<p><!-- page 49--><a name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +49</span><span class="smcap">In</span> (<i>aside</i>): Being a +Spanish lady of high degree I cannot possibly refuse. I can +only trust that as he is of noble birth and valorous, he +won’t be such a blackguard as not to drink. +(<i>Drinks</i>.)</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giov</span>: Brava! But—do you +know?—after all, I think I should prefer a fresh bottle, if +it’s quite the same to you, my beautiful one. (<i>He +empties his glass upon the floor</i>; <i>the wine flows about the +stage in a stream of fire</i>. <span class="smcap">Donna +Inez</span> <i>dies in agony</i>. <i>Exit</i> <span +class="smcap">Don Giovanni</span> <i>laughing</i>. +<i>Curtain</i>.)</p> +<p>During the applause that followed, Brancaccia rose, +exclaiming:</p> +<p>“Such a thing could not possibly happen.”</p> +<p>She collected her wraps and we left the theatre, although the +play was in nine acts and we had only seen three. As soon +as we got home, she retired. I said to Peppino:</p> +<p>“I wish we had not gone to that play. I am sure +Brancaccia has been frightened by it.”</p> +<p>“No,” said he, “not frightened.”</p> +<p>“But she’s gone away to recover +herself?”</p> +<p>“Look here, Brancaccia don’t be thinking of the +drama. She don’t be thinking of nothing—only +the baby. She go to see if Ricuzzu is sleeping.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 53--><a name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +53</span>PALERMO</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER III<br /> +MARIONETTISTS AT HOME</h3> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Alessandro Greco to the Author</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Marionette Theatre</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Piazza Nuova</span>, <span +class="smcap">Palermo</span>,<br /> +4 <i>June</i>, 1909.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Enrico</span>,</p> +<p>Since I last wrote to you there has been a continual to-do and +no time for writing letters. What has been the to-do? +Is it possible you have forgotten my telling you that I am +studying to be a singer and that I take lessons every day? +Now listen to this: Here in Palermo, a new opera was performed +recently for the benefit of the victims of the earthquake at +Messina. The story was taken from a great German romance +and the music was composed by an Italian who is now in +America. I was asked to sing as a supplementary +tenor. We had a month of rehearsals and in the end the +performance was splendidly successful. O my dear +friend! If you had seen me on the stage! I was +dressed as a warrior with a wig of curly hair and a pair of +moustaches. I also received applause, and, when I appeared +before the audience to bow my acknowledgments, I thought: +“Oh, if only my dear friend were present, how he would be +applauding me!” You will understand after that +whether I have had any time to write to you; but now that things +have calmed down a little and there is less going on I can write +to you as much as you like.</p> +<p>As you know, I am always busy in the teatrino; the other +evening we repeated Samson, that play which you once saw +here. If you will believe me, I was thinking of you the +whole time because I remembered that when we gave it two years +ago you were present.</p> +<p><!-- page 54--><a name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +54</span>Just now in the <i>Story of the Paladins</i>, Orlando is +throwing away his arms and running about naked in the woods, mad +for love of Angelica; and soon we shall have the burning of +Bizerta and the destruction of the Africans. This will +finish in July and we shall then begin the <i>Story of Guido +Santo</i>.</p> +<p>What have you done with that photograph of myself which I gave +you and which you put into your cigarette-case? Is still +there, or have you lost it? I have often promised to send +you another but have not done so because when you come to Palermo +in September I hope we shall be photographed together, you and +I. Nevertheless I send you this one now, it was taken by an +English lady who came to the teatrino last summer; you see me +getting into a rage with a paladin, I am talking seriously to him +and swearing at him because he will not let me dress him +properly.</p> +<p>I will not prolong this letter, I do not wish to bore you; but +I promise you that I will never fail to let you know of my doings +and I count on you to tell me of yours.</p> +<p>Costantino, Sansone, Rinaldo, Rosina, Angelica, Ferraù, +Pasquino, Onofrio and all the other marionettes embrace you and +send you their kind regards.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">I am and always shall be<br /> +Your affectionate friend<br /> +<span class="smcap">Alessandro Greco</span> (Buffo).</p> +</blockquote> +<p>On arriving at Palermo, I went to the teatrino at about ten at +night; not seeing the buffo in his usual place keeping order at +the door, I guessed he must be on the stage and, knowing the way, +passed through the audience, dived under the proscenium, crept +along a short passage, mounted a ladder and appeared among them +unannounced. The father, the buffo and his brother, Gildo, +were so much astonished that they dropped their marionettes all +over the stage and shouted:</p> +<p>“When did you come?” “Why did you not +write?” “Why did you not telegraph?”</p> +<p>Thereby spreading their astonishment among the audience, who +saw no connection between these ejaculations and the exploits of +Guido Santo. They soon <!-- page 55--><a +name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 55</span>recovered +themselves, however, picked up their paladins and managed to +bring the performance to its conclusion, and we shut the theatre +and proceeded upstairs to the house. On the way the buffo +took me aside into his workshop to show me two inflammable +Turkish pavilions which he was making; Ettorina in her madness +was to fire them in a few days, one in the afternoon and the +other at the evening repetition, as a conclusion to the +spectacle. I inquired:</p> +<p>“Who was Ettorina, and why did she go mad?”</p> +<p>“I will tell you presently,” replied the buffo, +“we must first go upstairs.”</p> +<p>As we went up I asked after the singing and he promised to +take me to the house of his professor to hear him have a +lesson. Papa and Gildo had preceded us and we found them +with the young ladies, Carolina and Carmela, and the child, Nina, +who is as much a buffa as her brother Alessandro is a +buffo. In a moment, the air was thick with compliments.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Papa</span>: And how well you are +looking! So much fatter than last year.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span> (<i>accepting the +compliment</i>): That is very kind of you. You are all +looking very well also. Let me see, Buffo mio, how old are +you now?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Alessandro</span>: Guess.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Twenty-five.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>: Bravo. I completed my +twenty-fifth year just three weeks ago. And you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: I have also completed my +twenty-fifth year, but I did it more than three weeks ago.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>: I see. You have +twenty-five years on one shoulder; and how many more on the +other?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Twenty-five.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>: It seems to me you are +making a habit of attaining twenty-five. Are you going to +do it again?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: I have begun, but I shall +put off completing it as long as possible. If you want to +know my exact age <!-- page 56--><a name="page56"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 56</span>I will give you the materials for +making the calculation. I went to the Great Exhibition of +1851.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: Tell us about it. I +have often seen pictures of it in the illustrated papers, but I +have never spoken to anyone who was there. Was it very +beautiful? Were there many people? Did you see Queen +Victoria?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: I can’t tell you much +about it. I was asleep and when I woke up I was so hungry +that I cried till my mother took me into a side room and gave me +my dinner. Then I went to sleep again until they took me +home. I have been to many exhibitions since, but I never +enjoyed one so much. You see, this one did not bore me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>: You should not have had your +dinner there. I went to the exhibition in Palermo and the +food in the restaurant was not wholesome.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: Yes, but you must remember +that Alessandro is very particular about his food. He can +only eat the most delicate things and must have plenty of +variety.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: I did not have much variety +in those days. I took my restaurant with me, the one at +which I was having all my meals.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: Oh well, if one can afford +to travel like a prince—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Gildo! I was not six +weeks old and—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Papa</span>: I have now made the +calculation and I find you are my senior by six years. I +hope that when I have caught you up I shall carry my age as +lightly as you carry yours. Do I explain myself?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span> (<i>to me</i>): I think you +look older. I should have said you were a well-preserved +man of sixty-four or (<i>stretching a point in my favour</i>) +perhaps sixty-five.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span> (<i>feeling sure that here +must be another compliment</i>): Thank you very much.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Buffo</span>: Not at all; it does you +great credit.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: Now me, please. Ask me +my age.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Well, Gildo, and how old +are you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: A hundred and seventy-four +next birthday.</p> +<p><!-- page 57--><a name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +57</span><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Santo Diavolo! +You don’t look it. You must have been very busy since +last autumn when, if I remember right, you were only +twenty-one.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Carolina</span> (<i>tapping my right arm +to attract my attention</i>): Signor Enrico, Signor Enrico, why +do you not ask me my age?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Carmela</span> (<i>tapping my left +arm</i>): Signor Enrico, Signor Enrico, you have not asked me my +age.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Because I know how old you +are. You are both of you the age that charming young ladies +always are, and you do not look a day older.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nina</span>: I’m fourteen.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span> and <span +class="smcap">Carm</span> (<i>comparing notes</i>): Did you hear +what he said? He said we are charming young ladies.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nina</span> (<i>insisting</i>): I’m +fourteen. Do I look it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: I can compliment you on +looking a little older. Since last year you have grown out +of being a child, but you have hardly yet grown into being a +young lady like your sisters, though you are quite as +charming.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span> (<i>taking the opportunity to +begin</i>): First you must know that Carlo Magno is now dead and +the Pope is shut up in Paris and is being—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span>: Signor Enrico, Signor Enrico, +do you drink marsala in London?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Marsala is known in London, +but we do not drink it every day as you do in Palermo.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: In England people drink tea; +everything is so different in England.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: That is quite true, +Gildo. In England what is like that (<i>holding my hand out +with the palm up</i>) in Sicily is like this (<i>holding it with +the palm down</i>:<i> Peppino Pampalone taught me this +gesture</i>).</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: And that is why in London +the people walk on their feet, whereas in Palermo they walk on +their hands, as you have no doubt observed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>: Si; e ecco perchè in +Londra si mangia colla bocca, ma quì, in Palermo, si +mangia nella maniera che ti <!-- page 58--><a +name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 58</span>farò +vedere da un diavolo nel teatrino. But I was telling you +about the Pope. He is shut up in Paris, where he is +guarding the Christians against the—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span>: Signor Enrico, do you ever +see the sun in London?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: Yes, they see the sun in +London, but only on three days of the week; on the other days +they send it to be cleaned.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Carm</span>: Then it is not the same sun +as ours?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: It is a different sun. +Our sun is made of gold and remains always bright. The sun +of London is made of copper and, being constantly exposed to the +air, it tarnishes more rapidly even than the breastplate of Carlo +Magno, and you know what a lot of cleaning that wants.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Papa</span>: All this is very interesting, +but listen to me. I have something to say. When I was +a boy at school—are you attending? Very well, then, I +may proceed. When I was a boy at school, we had a professor +who told us that in consequence of—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span>: Signor Enrico, Signor Enrico, +what is the English for Grazie?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: It means Thank you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Carm</span>: Signor Enrico, Signor Enrico, +what is the English for Buona notte?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Buona notte in English is +Good night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>:—and Paris is being +besieged by four Turkish emperors, namely, Rodoferro di Siberia, +Balestrazzo di Turgovia, Leofine di Cina and Bracilone +d’Africa, and they have two hundred thousand men—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: Now me, please. Teach +me to speak English. What did you say is the English for +Grazie?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Thank you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: And Buona notte?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Good night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span> (<i>tentatively</i>): Thank +you. Good night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Bravo, very good.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span>: What does that mean?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Very good means—</p> +<p><!-- page 59--><a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +59</span><span class="smcap">Papa</span>:—and this +professor of ours told us that in consequence of certain +natural—do I explain myself?—of certain natural +causes, it is rare for a human being to live more than one +hundred years. It is therefore unlikely that—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>:—and Paris is being +besieged by—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Yes, I know, Buffo, by four +Turkish emperors and they have two hundred thousand men. I +should think it must be rather a serious situation. But I +want to hear about Ettorina.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>: It is a very serious +situation, but do not be alarmed because—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Papa</span>:—it is therefore +unlikely that Gildo will ever reach the age of one hundred and +seventy-four. Do I explain myself?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span>: Signor Enrico, Come sta? what +does it mean?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: It means How do you do?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span> (<i>trying her hand</i>): How +do you do?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Brava. Very good.</p> +<p>(<i>Nina did not ask to be taught English</i>.<i> She +was following the conversation with sympathetic illustrative +gestures not caring two straws whether anyone observed her</i>, +<i>just as she did not care whether anyone observed that she was +breathing</i>; <i>and</i>, <i>just as she could not stop +breathing</i>, <i>so she appeared unable to stop her +gestures</i>.<i> She was as incessant and as resourceful as +the orchestra in</i> Hänsel and Gretel.)</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Carm</span>: Signor Enrico, Signor Enrico, +Io t’amo.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Oh! but this is so +sudden.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>:—do not be alarmed, +because—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Carm</span>: What does it mean in +English?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Oh, I beg your +pardon. It means—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>:—do not be alarmed, for +it is the will of heaven that—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Papa</span>: I may even go further and say +it is unlikely that Gildo—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span>: Signor Enrico, do you know +what Carmela is doing?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: She is making lace on a +pillow, no doubt for her wedding trousseau.</p> +<p><!-- page 60--><a name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +60</span><span class="smcap">Carm</span> (<i>demurely</i>): Not +for my wedding. No one will ever want to marry me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Oh, come now, you +don’t expect me to believe that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>:—it is the will of +heaven that they shall all escape—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Well, if this is not for +you, perhaps it is for Carolina’s wedding?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>:—that they shall all +escape to Montalbano—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span> (<i>demurely</i>): Not for my +wedding. I shall never marry. I shall stay at home +and look after my dear papa and my dear brothers.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nina</span> (<i>recklessly</i>): +That’s all very pretty, but I’m going to get +married. (<i>She was sitting on the edge of the table +swinging her legs</i>.)</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>:—that they shall all +escape to Montalbano through the subterranean road which the +devils—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Why don’t you tell me +about Ettorina? Come to Ettorina.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>: One moment, if you +please—which the devils will make on Wednesday +evening—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Carm</span>: You have not yet told me what +it is in English.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: What what is in +English?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Carm</span>: Io t’amo.</p> +<p>(<i>By the time I had given the information Papa</i>, <i>who +had been proposing my health in a speech of which I caught little +except an occasional</i> Do I explain myself? <i>had begun +perorating towards a close and was about to crown his remarks +with a brindisi in verse</i>.)</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Papa</span>: Questa tavola—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span> (<i>taking the words out of +his mouth</i>):</p> + +<blockquote><p> —oggi +è assai più bella.<br /> +Enrico! Bevo alla salute di tua sorella. <a +name="citation60"></a><a href="#footnote60" +class="citation">[60]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>:—which the devils will +make on Wednesday evening by command of Argantino the—</p> +<p><!-- page 61--><a name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +61</span><span class="smcap">Papa</span> (<i>beginning +again</i>):</p> +<blockquote><p>Questa tavola non è sporca ma è +netta.<br /> +Enrico! mangia, e non dare a loro retta. <a +name="citation61a"></a><a href="#footnote61a" +class="citation">[61a]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span> (<i>obediently taking a +pear</i>.<i> It was a fine pear with a maggot in it</i>;<i> +they wanted me to take another but I knew that those with maggots +are usually the best</i>. <i>Not seeing why I should not be +a poet also</i>, <i>I put it thus</i>):</p> +<blockquote><p>Animale<br /> +Non fa male. <a name="citation61b"></a><a href="#footnote61b" +class="citation">[61b]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span> (<i>instantly raising his +glass</i>):</p> +<blockquote><p>Ora che ho mangiato non sono più a +dieta;<br /> +Bevo alla salute d’Enrico che è poeta. <a +name="citation61c"></a><a href="#footnote61c" +class="citation">[61c]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>:</p> +<blockquote><p>Anch’io voglio brindar, da povero +precoce,<br /> +Ad Enrico che sentir vuole la mia voce;<br /> +Da un anno non ti vedo, O caro fratello!<br /> +Vieni oggi, ti farò sentir l’<i>Otello</i>. <a +name="citation61d"></a><a href="#footnote61d" +class="citation">[61d]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span> (<i>bowing my +acknowledgments</i>): Thank you very much.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: What did you say? Does +that mean Good night? Is that what you said before?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Very much means Molto, +Thank you means Grazie, and Good night means Buona notte.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: Let me try. Very much +thank you good night?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Bravo, Gildo! You are +making progress.</p> +<p>(<i>Nina was not so much preoccupied with her comments as to +be unable to take a line of her own when there was nothing +particularly inspiring in the conversation and</i>, <i>just +now</i>, <i>she had laid her head down in an empty plate and was +unostentatiously putting out her tongue and making faces sideways +at me</i>.)</p> +<p><!-- page 62--><a name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +62</span><span class="smcap">Gildo</span> (<i>taking a fig in one +hand and raising his glass with the other</i>):</p> +<blockquote><p>Oggi mi voglio mangiare un fico;<br /> +Bevo alla salute del Signor Enrico. <a name="citation62"></a><a +href="#footnote62" class="citation">[62]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>(<i>I had to drink each time</i>, <i>not +much</i>—<i>merely to acknowledge the +compliment</i>—<i>excusing myself by saying I had not the +energy to drink more</i>.)</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: My dear Buffo, when you +have sufficiently got into the habit of being twenty-five to +approach the age Gildo says he is, you will not have so much +energy as you have now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>: Yes, I shall.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: No, Buffo mio.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>: We will make a bet about it, +but you will lose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span> (<i>to Aless</i>): By that +time Enrico will not be here to pay if he does lose, so you will +not win.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Bravo, Gildo.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span> (<i>bowing his +acknowledgments</i>): Thank you very night—Why do you +laugh? That is what you say. Why do you laugh?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Papa</span> (<i>taking his revenge about +the brindisi</i>): Don’t talk so much, Gildo.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span> (<i>taking his about the +bet</i>): You have been talking all the evening, Gildo. You +are as bad as a conjurer in the piazza.</p> +<p>(<i>Gildo proclaimed a general silence and</i>, <i>as a +guarantee of good faith</i>, <i>pretended to skewer his lips +together with a tooth-pick</i>.)</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span> (<i>whispering to me</i>): +Argantino is the Prince of the Devils and has commanded them to +make the subterranean road from Paris to Montalbano—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Papa</span>: May I speak one word?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span> (<i>graciously</i>): Yes, +Papa. You may even speak two words.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Papa</span>: I—</p> +<p><!-- page 63--><a name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +63</span><span class="smcap">Aless</span> and <span +class="smcap">Gildo</span> (<i>shouting</i>): One!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Papa</span>:—have—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span> and <span +class="smcap">Gildo</span>: Two! There now, shut up. +You’ve spoken your two words. Silence.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span>: Signor Enrico, last year you +only stayed in Palermo four days; this year you will, of course, +stay at least a month.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: I am sorry, my dear young +lady, but it is impossible.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>:—and they will all +escape and—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Please, Buffo, how many +kilometres is it from Paris to Montalbano?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>: I do not remember, but it is +a long way.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span>: Why do you not stay a +month?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Carm</span>: Yes, why are you going +away?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: My dear young ladies, I +must go to Calatafimi.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span>: But why do you go to +Calatafimi?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Carm</span>: Yes, why do you not stay with +us?</p> +<p>(<i>Nina did not speak</i>. <i>She merely gazed at me as +though she could not mind her wheel</i>, <i>Mother</i>.)</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: I have friends at +Calatafimi whom I have promised to go and see and I +cannot—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>:—and arrive in safety +at Montalbano.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: I believe you told me once +that Montalbano is Rinaldo’s castle in Gascony. Did +the devils make a subterranean road right across France? It +is a long way, you know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>: The devils must do as +Argantino commands them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: If he is the Prince of the +Devils of course they must; but this seems rather a large +order. Come to Ettorina. Why don’t you come to +Ettorina?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>: One moment, if you please; +first you must know that—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span>: Signor Enrico, who are your +friends at Calatafimi?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: I know a baritone singer +and his father and <!-- page 64--><a name="page64"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 64</span>mother, two or three landed +proprietors and the custode of the Temple of Segesta who lives at +Calatafimi and is great friend of mine. I also know +another—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Carm</span>: It is not true. How +many ladies do you know at Calatafimi?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Well, let me see. I +don’t think I can exactly—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span>: Tell us about the young +ladies of Calatafimi, you like them better than you like us.</p> +<p>(<i>Here sobs were heard</i>;<i> Nina’s head and +shoulders had fallen over the back of her chair</i>, <i>her hair +had come down an she was weeping gently but +inconsolably</i>.)</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: I shall be back in three +days.</p> +<p>(<i>Whereupon Nina recovered herself and fixed her eyes on the +ceiling with an expression of beatific joy such as is worn by S. +Caterina da Siena when the ring is being put on her finger in the +pictures</i>.<i> Nina’s hair had now to be done up +and it is magnificent hair</i>, <i>lustrous</i>, <i>black</i>, +<i>wavy thick and long—for a girl of fourteen</i>, +<i>wonderful</i>.<i> Her two sisters did it up as though it +usually came down about this time of the evening and she +submitted in the same spirit</i>.<i> It was no concern of +ours</i>.)</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Papa</span>: It is now one year since you +were last in Palermo and it seems like yesterday—do I +explain myself?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span> (<i>so that everyone could +hear</i>): I have kept all your post-cards in a secret +place. No one suspects that I have received them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>: You must know that before +Malagigi died he—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span>: Signor Enrico, why do you +wear spectacles?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: In order that I may more +clearly contemplate your beauty.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span>: I do not believe you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Carm</span>: Signor Enrico, why do you +wear your hair so short?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: In order that—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Caro</span>: Signor Enrico, why do you +wear that little beard, that barbetta?</p> +<p><!-- page 65--><a name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +65</span><span class="smcap">Carm</span>: Signor Enrico, why do +you wear—?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>: Why do you wear a coat and +waistcoat?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: Why do you wear boots?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Papa</span>: Why do you—?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nina</span>: I can tell you why he does +all these things. It is to make the young ladies of +Calatafimi go mad for love of him as the daughter of Cladinoro +went mad for love of Ruggiero Persiano.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: I have never heard of +Ruggiero Persiano. Who was he, a paladin?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nina</span>: Yes; a cavaliere errante.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Then who was the daughter +of Cladinoro?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nina</span>: Ettorina.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Do you mean to say that +Ettorina went mad for love of Ruggiero Persiano?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nina</span>: Yes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span> (<i>rising to go</i>): +Finalmente!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Aless</span>: Yes, but first you must +know—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: All right, Buffo, never +mind about that; at last I know who Ettorina was and why she went +mad and that will do for the present. Thank you very much +and good night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: That is what I said. +Why did you laugh when I said that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Say it again, Gildo, and I +won’t laugh this time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gildo</span>: Thank you very night and +good much.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Bravo. If you go on +at this rate you will soon be speaking English like a native.</p> +<p>I took leave of the young ladies, and Papa, Alessandro and +Gildo accompanied me to the albergo, where they left me. As +I approached my bedroom door I looked up over it half-expecting +to see there the words which, years ago, I had seen written over +the entrance to a Tuscan monastery:</p> +<blockquote><p>O beata Solitudo!<br /> +O sola Beatitudo!</p> +</blockquote> +<h3><!-- page 66--><a name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +66</span>CHAPTER IV<br /> +MALAGIGI</h3> +<p>Next morning I called on the buffo in his workshop. His +two combustible Turkish pavilions were finished, ready to be +fired by Ettorina, and he was full of his devils. I +inquired why we were doing Guido Santo so soon; it was only a +year since my last visit to Palermo, when I had witnessed his +lamented end after a fortnight of starvation in prison, and, at +this rate, the story would be over in fourteen months instead of +lasting eighteen. The buffo said they had made the +experiment of shortening it. If one has to shorten a story, +probably the <i>Paladins of France</i> with its continuations +would suffer less from the process than many others. At all +events it could scarcely grow longer, as a work of art so often +does when one tries to shorten it.</p> +<p>The devils were naturally among the dramatis personæ of +the teatrino, but they had to be got ready and repaired and +provided with all things necessary for them to make the +subterranean road. I said:</p> +<p>“I am not sure that I quite followed all you told me +last night.”</p> +<p>“There was perhaps a little confusion?” he +inquired apologetically.</p> +<p>“Not at all,” I replied politely; “but I +never heard of Argantino before. Did you say he was the son +of Malagigi?”</p> +<p>“That is right. He did not happen to be at +Roncisvalle, so he was not killed with Orlando and the other +paladins. An angel came to him and said, ‘Now the +Turks will make much war against the Christians and, since the +Christians always want a magician, it is the will of heaven that +you shall have the rod of Malagigi, who is no longer here, and +that Guido Santo shall have la Durlindana, the sword of <!-- page +67--><a name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +67</span>Orlando.’ And it was so, and Argantino +thereafter appeared as a pilgrim.”</p> +<p>“I remember about Malagigi; he made all Rinaldo’s +armour.”</p> +<p>“Excuse me, he made some of his armour; but he did not +make his helmet, nor his sword Fusberta, nor his horse +Baiardo. First you must know that Rinaldo was one of the +four brothers, sons of Amone, and their sister was +Bradamante.”</p> +<p>“I saw her die at Trapani. The Empress Marfisa +came and found her dying of grief in a grotto for the loss of her +husband, Ruggiero da Risa.”</p> +<p>“Precisely. She was Marfisa’s sister-in-law +because she married Marfisa’s brother Ruggiero da +Risa.”</p> +<p>“Then who was the cavaliere errante, Ruggiero +Persiano?”</p> +<p>“He was the son of Marfisa and Guidon Selvaggio, and +this Guidon Selvaggio was the son of Rinaldo.”</p> +<p>“Had Bradamante no children?”</p> +<p>“Guido Santo is the son of Bradamante and Ruggiero da +Risa.”</p> +<p>“I heard something about Guido Santo at Castellinaria +the other day—let me see, what was it? Never +mind. I hope he left children.”</p> +<p>“I told you last year that he never married.”</p> +<p>“Oh yes, of course; that is what I was thinking +of. One cannot remember everything at once and pedigrees +are always confusing at first. Then it is for love of +Bradamante’s nephew by marriage, Ruggiero Persiano, that +Ettorina has now gone mad?”</p> +<p>“Bravo. And Malagigi was Bradamante’s +cousin.”</p> +<p>“How was that?”</p> +<p>“Amone had a brother Buovo, and Malagigi was the son of +Buovo. Therefore Malagigi was the cousin of Rinaldo and of +Bradamante. And that is all you need know about the +pedigree for the present. Malagigi was Emperor of +Magic. Other magicians only commanded a devil or two <!-- +page 68--><a name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +68</span>each, but Malagigi dominated all the hosts of the +inferno, all the devils, harpies, serpents, gorgons, hydras, +furies and also the monster Briareus.”</p> +<p>“Just as the buffo dominates all the marionettes in the +teatrino,” I interpolated.</p> +<p>He bowed and proceeded: “Rinaldo’s helmet used to +belong to Mambrino.”</p> +<p>“I have read about it in <i>Don Quixote</i>.”</p> +<p>“Ah! but that was not a real helmet; that was only a +barber’s basin because Cervantes wanted to laugh at Don +Quixote. Rinaldo slew Mambrino and took his helmet, but +Mambrino was a giant and his helmet was too large for Rinaldo, so +Malagigi took it down into the laboratory of the inferno and +altered it to fit.”</p> +<p>“And do the audience see all that done on the +stage?”</p> +<p>“Most of it; and what they do not see they +imagine. Fusberta, Rinaldo’s sword, formerly belonged +to another giant, Atlante. Malagigi always intended it for +Rinaldo, but he was a wise magician and knew that people do not +value things unless they pay for them, so he would not let him +have it till he had earned it by killing Atlante.”</p> +<p>“It’s rather like what you told me last year about +Orlando’s dream and his going to the river-bank where Carlo +Magno and that other giant, Almonte, were fighting, and his +killing Almonte and his taking his sword and horse and +armour.”</p> +<p>“I did not say that Orlando had a dream; it was Carlo +Magno who had the dream about a young man whom he did not know, +and I told you that afterwards, when Orlando came and helped him +to fight Almonte, Carlo Magno recognised him as the young man in +his dream.”</p> +<p>“Sorry, Buffo; my mistake. But it is rather like +it, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>“About his taking the giant’s sword it is rather +like it, but that is not a bad thing in the teatrino, the people +must not be puzzled by too much variety.”</p> +<p>Then he told me about Baiardo, Rinaldo’s horse, who <!-- +page 69--><a name="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +69</span>formerly belonged to Amadigi di Gaula, to whom he was +given by Berliante, another magician, who found him in the +desert. After the death of Amadigi, Berliante chose but +seven devils, put them inside Baiardo and turned him loose in the +forest, saying: “This horse can only be dominated by a man +as strong as Amadigi.” After this, several things +happened, of which I only remember that Baiardo kicked all the +sense out of Isolier, a Spanish cavalier who was trying to tame +him with his sword, not knowing the right way to do it, and a +nameless Englishman was involved in a duel. At last Rinaldo +came and, after working hard at Baiardo for an hour, struck him a +blow between the eyes with his mailed fist and thus tamed +him. Then Rinaldo mounted him and boasted of his triumph, +shouting in his humorous way: “Now Baiardo is carrying +eight devils.”</p> +<p>“And so you see Rinaldo getting Baiardo is not at all +like Orlando getting his horse Vegliantino; besides, Baiardo is +red, the colour of fire, and Vegliantino is white all over, +without one black hair.”</p> +<p>“Why do you call Orlando’s horse +Vegliantino? Last year he was Brigliadoro.”</p> +<p>“One moment, if you please. Almonte called him +Brigliadoro because he had a golden bridle; but when Orlando took +him he called him Vegliantino because he was so +wide-awake—only slept with one eye at a time—always +kept the other open. You have good horses also in +England. I read in the <i>Giornale di Sicilia</i> that your +King Edward has a good horse who won the great race this year, +but I do not remember his name. It was not a reasonable +name.”</p> +<p>“The name was Minoru. Do you think that a bad name +for a good horse?”</p> +<p>“I think Vegliantino is better.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps it is. Let us return to Malagigi. +Are you not going to tell me why he is no longer giving the +Christians the benefit of his services as magician?”</p> +<p><!-- page 70--><a name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +70</span>So he told me about Malagigi, who, it seems, had a +quarrel with Carlo Magno, in the course of which Malagigi +boasted:</p> +<p>“You are the Emperor of the World, but I am the Emperor +of the Inferno.”</p> +<p>Carlo Magno did not quite like this and responded by cursing +Malagigi, saying that he would not go to heaven when he +died. One would think that Malagigi must have had the +substance of this remark addressed to him before by persons who +had not troubled to wrap it up in the imperial language employed +by Carlo Magno. If so, it had never made any impression on +him, but now he began to think there might be something in +it. He had been a good man on the whole and a Christian, +nevertheless, as a sorcerer he had no doubt diabolised a little +too freely. To be on the safe side, he determined to repent +and, as these things do not get over the footlights unless they +are done in the grand manner, he began by burning his magical +books, all except one, and they were the books of Merlin, whose +disciple he had been. He next dropped his name of Malagigi, +because it had been given him by the devils in council, and +called himself Onofrio. He still kept on terms with his +confidential private devil, Nacalone, whom he now summoned and to +whom he spoke these words:</p> +<p>“Convey me to some peaceful shore where I may repent of +my sins and die of grief in a grotto.”</p> +<p>When we came to this—I could not help it, I was full of +small complaints that morning—I exclaimed:</p> +<p>“But, my dear Buffo, this makes consecutive fifths with +his cousin Bradamante dying of grief in the grotto at +Trapani.”</p> +<p>He admitted that it would have been better if one of them had +had the originality to die in bed as a Christian or an ordinary +man does, or to be killed in mortal combat, but there it was, it +was the will of heaven and could not be altered. It seemed +rather an invitation to the shortener of <!-- page 71--><a +name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 71</span>the story, +but the same people do not come to the theatre every night and +those who had missed the death of Bradamante would be pleased to +see Malagigi die.</p> +<p>The nearest peaceful shore with a suitable grotto known to +Nacalone happened to be in Asia; he put his master on his back +and flew off with him apologising for carrying him so far, but +there was not really much trouble about it, because his wings +were strong and the journey was accomplished in safety.</p> +<p>Malagigi sat repenting in his Asian grotto, like S. Gerolamo +in the pictures. He found a stone with a hole in it into +which he stuck a cross made of two pieces of wood tied together +with dried grass, and to this cross he prayed. In the +intervals of prayer and repentance he gathered the herb malva, +dried it, powdered it, mixed it with water into paste, formed it +into cakes, baked them in the sun and ate them. When his +time came, he died, and gradually his corpse became a skeleton, +but his spirit still dwelt within because it was so +ordained. His dying did not surprise me—to be born is +to enter upon the path which even magicians must tread and which +leads to the inevitable door—nor was I alarmed about his +spirit remaining inside his skeleton—it gave him a touch of +originality after all and differentiated his death from that of +Bradamante whose soul I had seen extracted by an angel; but I +could not help being seriously uneasy about his burning all his +books. Each book had a devil chained inside it, and when +Malagigi opened a book its devil used to appear for +instructions. As long as he was repenting, they might +perhaps be trusted to behave themselves; but after his death, in +spite of its being somewhat equivocal, I was afraid that all +these devils, and Merlin had an extensive library, would escape +and be free to do as they chose. The buffo assured me, +however, that no harm would come of it, and as he knew what was +ordained by the will of heaven I was ready to take his word; +besides, there was still the one unburnt book and this was the +home of Nacalone, who might be powerful <!-- page 72--><a +name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 72</span>enough to +avert disasters. So Malagigi’s body remained in the +grotto, dead and yet not dead.</p> +<p>Then a time came when his son Argantino happened to be +travelling in Asia with his second cousin Guido Santo. +Accompanied by Costanzo, a Turk, whom Argantino had defeated and +baptised, the two knights came to the dreadful enchanted grotto +and entered it to see whether perhaps it might contain anything +good to eat. Costanzo did not enter, they sent him off to +collect a quantity of wood to make a fire because it was a chilly +evening. When their eyes had become accustomed to the dim +light, they discerned a tomb whereon was this inscription:</p> +<blockquote><p>IN HOC LOCO PAX.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Guido knelt down to pray, saying: “I perceive here a +sepulchre.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Argantino kneeling by his side; +“I wonder who in this peaceful grotto is sleeping his last +long sleep.”</p> +<p>Presently the tomb opened by a miracle and a voice disturbed +their devotions:</p> +<p>“Malagigi parlerà.”</p> +<p>The two cousins trembled with horror as a skeleton rattled up +from the sepulchre and spoke thus:</p> +<p>“I am the great magician Malagigi, and in obedience to +the command of heaven my spirit has here waited for this +day. To you, O my son Argantino! I confide the one book of +magic which remains to me. To you, O Guido! I confide the +horse Sfrenato.”</p> +<p>Here he delivered the two compliments to the two paladins; but +for the moment Sfrenato took the magical book and carried it in +his mouth as a cat carries her kitten.</p> +<p>“And now, listen to me. Terrible times are in +store for the Christians and it is God’s ordinance that you +two shall preserve the faith. Swear to me therefore, O +Guido! that you will”—and so forth.</p> +<p><!-- page 73--><a name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +73</span>When he had concluded his address, his prophetic spirit +was exhausted, as might perhaps have been anticipated, for the +speech was of portentous length, and the skeleton clattered down +again into the tomb, which closed by another miracle while a ball +of fire ran along upon the ground across the stage and back +again. Then Guido took his oath and spoke thus to +Argantino:</p> +<p>“Let us now depart. And you Turks! all of you, +tremble! for Guido shall be your destruction.”</p> +<p>With this he vaulted upon Sfrenato, who curveted and whinnied +with joy at recognising his master. And so the two paladins +continued their journey; but before leaving the neighbourhood +they naturally made arrangements with the local marble-mason to +have the tomb closed in a proper and hygienic manner.</p> +<p>“And all this,” said the buffo, “happened +only last Friday, and why did you not come in time to see +it? It was very emotional.”</p> +<h3>CHAPTER V<br /> +ARGANTINO</h3> +<p>As I had missed the emotional interview at the tomb the buffo +generously arranged that there should be a private repetition of +the scene specially for the young ladies and me; but it could not +be that afternoon because it would take time to prepare and we +had the appointment to go to his professor’s house for his +singing lesson, and that also would take time. Before +singing one does a few exercises, the effect of which is to warm +up the throat and awaken the voice, because the warmer the +throat, the better the quality of the voice, and this had to be +got through before anyone could be allowed to listen. At +the proper moment I was taken to the professor’s house and +introduced into the studio where the buffo, who had taken off his +collar to <!-- page 74--><a name="page74"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 74</span>do the exercises, sang extracts from +his repertorio, which includes <i>Otello</i>, <i>Rigoletto</i>, +<i>I Pagliacci</i> and <i>Cavalleria Rusticana</i>.</p> +<p>After he had sung one of his pieces, I made him my compliments +and congratulated his professor on the result of his teaching, +whereupon they made their excuses—I had come on an +unfortunate day, the voice was suffering from fatigue and the +piano was out of tune. I had not observed the fatigue, but +they were right about the piano and I agreed with the maestro, +who said it was time to order a new one. Not only was it +out of tune enough to curdle the milk, but they had endeavoured +to distract attention from its defects by crowding its lid with +rubbish till it resembled the parlour chimney-piece in a suburban +villa or the altar in a second-rate church.</p> +<p>As some old harridan when bidden to the christening of her +great-niece fumbles among such ornaments of her gioventù +tempestosa as have been refused by the pawnbroker, and choosing +the least suitable decks herself out therein, thinking thus to +honour the festa—even so on this piano were accumulated +artificial flowers, photographs in metal frames, a sprinkling of +glass vases in wire cages that jangled, a couple of crockery pigs +to bring good luck and a few statuettes and busts.</p> +<p>“Please, Buffo,” I inquired, “who is that +silver saint upon the piano?”</p> +<p>“It is not a saint,” he replied, “it is only +un musicista qualunque.”</p> +<p>“It looks about the shape of Mozart,” I said, +wondering what he was doing in that galley.</p> +<p>“I do not remember his name,” said the buffo, +“it is written on him in front; it is not a reasonable +name.”</p> +<p>He brought me the bust and I, thinking that, to harmonise with +the musical atmosphere of the studio, it should have been +Leoncavallo or Mascagni, found that it was even more out of tune +than the shameless piano it had been standing on. It was +<span class="smcap">betkoven</span>, with every letter <!-- page +75--><a name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +75</span>distinctly legible through the thick silver paint with +which it was covered.</p> +<p>These foreign names are so puzzling. At an afternoon +party in Palermo I once had a conversation with a gentleman who +told me that Bellini was the king of opera-writers and the +emperor of composers. To pass a few hours with people who +consider Bellini to have written the last note in music is as +restful and refreshing as to dream away an August afternoon in a +peaceful backwater, forgetting that there is a river running to +the sea. After Bellini, the gentleman mentioned Beethoven, +who, it seems, studied in Italy, and that is why his music is so +melodious. The more accessible writers on Beethoven know as +little about this studying in Italy as they know about the +Palermitan spelling of his name, but it must be right, because +how otherwise could he have acquired his astonishing power of +producing the true Italian melody? And there is another +German musician who is even more melodious and more Italian in +style than Beethoven and therefore a greater musician.</p> +<p>“Did he also study in Italy?” I asked. +“And what was his name?”</p> +<p>“They all come here to study, and his name was +Sciupè.”</p> +<p>I divined that this German melodist could only be either the +Viennese Schubert or the French Pole Chopin, but with my English +pronunciation I failed to make the distinction. Then a +young lady, who had been sitting near, proposed to clear the +matter up by playing a piece composed by Sciupè, and if I +would listen attentively I should understand why he is known as +the German Bellini. By this time I had made up my mind that +it must be Schubert and was expecting one of the songs +transcribed by Liszt, but she played Chopin’s Funeral March +and told me that the composer had written besides a number of +operas and conducted them at Berlin. I acquiesced in what +appeared to be the will of heaven, saying:</p> +<p><!-- page 76--><a name="page76"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +76</span>“Oh! yes, of course. How stupid of +me!”</p> +<p>The buffo has a fine voice and has got far beyond appearing to +have learnt his songs diligently and to be delivering them +correctly. I suspect, however, that he did not pass that +way. He will soon have assimilated all that can be taught +about singing, and for the rest he is naturally an actor, one of +those few who are born with the strange power of appearing to +experience inwardly what they express outwardly, a power that his +life among the marionettes has strengthened and perfected. +But as to predicting his future, which is what he wanted me to +do, I suppose that only an expert, and perhaps not even an +expert, can tell from hearing a singer in a small room how he +will sound on the stage; and the voice is not everything, there +is the appearance and the question of how his personality will +affect the public, and the further question of how he will stand +the life and amalgamate with his fellows. So, like a good +Sicilian, I told him that there never was such a magnificent +voice, that I had never heard anyone sing so well and that I was +sure he would eclipse all previous tenors, which made everything +quite satisfactory.</p> +<p>The next day we had our private performance, and it began with +Guido Santo and Argantino at the dreadful enchanted grotto of the +great magician Malagigi. I was glad to see Argantino; it +was nearly as good as seeing Malagigi in his habit as he lived +because, although the son only had one diabolical book, yet in +his personal appearance he strikingly resembled the father, being +indeed the same marionette and distinguished chiefly by his +wings, which he inherited from his mother Sabina who was a +witch. Argantino always wore his wings even when he used to +wear armour, and on his shield he bore the portrait of a devil so +that everyone should know at a glance the kind of man he +was. After the angel tells him he is to do the magic for +the Christians he appears clothed as a pilgrim with wings, and in +this way, although it is the same marionette and both Malagigi +and Argantino are magicians, <!-- page 77--><a +name="page77"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 77</span>confusion is +avoided—at least the buffo said that was the intention.</p> +<p>There was another thing I should have been sorry to +miss. I had hitherto supposed the dictionaries to be right +in defining a miracle as an event contrary to the established +course of nature, but the buffo took me behind the scenes to +study the miracle by which the tomb opened. There were +three or four strings so arranged that if anyone pulled them the +tomb could not remain closed. The buffo pulled them and the +tomb opened. Nothing less contrary to the ordinary course +of nature could be imagined. It would be interesting to +know whether other miracles would similarly falsify their +definition if one could have a buffo to take one behind and +disclose the secret of how they are performed.</p> +<p>The second scene was a Ballo Fantastico, which was given to +take the taste of the tomb and the skeleton out of our +mouths. It was done by a heavy Turk who danced cumbrously; +presently his arms detached themselves and became transformed +into devils who danced separately; then his legs followed their +example; then his head descended from his trunk and, on reaching +the stage, became transformed into a dancing wizard carrying a +rod of magic and beating time to the music; then, while the body +was dancing by itself, various devils came out of it followed by +several serpents that floated among the devils; after which it +developed a head, a neck, wings and a tail, so that it became +transformed into a complete dragon, and the wizard mounted upon +its back and rode about wizarding all the other creatures. +Altogether the original Turk became transformed into sixteen +different marionettes.</p> +<p>After this we had a funambolo or rope-dancer. The +curtain rose disclosing his rope ready for him, he entered and, +after bowing profusely, leapt up and sat first on the rope, then +on a seat at the back. Here he played with his pole, +holding it first with one hand then with the other, then +balancing it on his head and doing tricks with it. Then he +walked along the rope forwards and backwards <!-- page 78--><a +name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 78</span>and danced, +doing his steps with great care and precision. After which +he sat down to recover his breath. Then he rope-walked +again, doing impossible things—that is, they would have +been impossible if he had not been sustained by many invisible +strings, which the buffo manipulated with wonderful skill. +I liked the funambolo even better than the wizard, he was +extraordinarily lifelike.</p> +<p>In the evening I became transformed into an ordinary member of +the public and saw the devils make the subterranean road. +The performance contained a great deal besides about Periglio, a +Turkish paladin, who, having been accused by the son of the +Emperor of China of helping the Christians, was condemned to be +beheaded. The father of his accuser with the other three +Emperors came to see him die; they stood at corners relentlessly +smoothing their beards and curling their moustaches with their +right fists and crying “A Morire!” Periglio in +chains was led on, blindfolded. The solemn headsman +followed, carrying his axe, and, as the boy left off turning the +handle of the mechanical piano, the cornet blasted a +broken-hearted minor ninth over the last chord of the funeral +march and prolonged it till—well, after all it was a +mistake; Periglio had not really helped the Christians; his +brother proved that, on the contrary, he had done them as much +damage as any Turk among the allied armies of 200,000 men. +So he was pardoned, and one of his friends gaily kicked the +executioner off the stage. The brothers embraced and then, +with their hands on their breasts, bowed to the audience to +acknowledge the applause; but they did not know they were +brothers, they had not yet recognised each other; that was to be +another emotional moment to come later on.</p> +<p>The kicking the executioner off the stage and the embracing +and bowing of the brothers were so absurdly natural that I +inquired about them, and it seemed that Gildo had thought of +these effects and carried them out.</p> +<p><!-- page 79--><a name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +79</span>“But then,” said the buffo, “Gildo is +an artist. You should see him with Truffaldino.”</p> +<p>“What is Truffaldino? Another cavaliere +errante?”</p> +<p>“He is the paladin who is a buffo. You should see +him toss his crown from one side of his head to the other and put +both his hands on his heart when he makes love to Angelica. +He only plays the fool a little the first night, and more and +more as the drama proceeds, until he dies by being pulled to +pieces by four horses. It is all done by Gildo, and the +audience laugh every night that Truffaldino appears.”</p> +<p>Then we were taken to Vienna, where Guido Santo and Argantino +had arrived, but we only saw Argantino.</p> +<p>“Where is Guido?” I asked. “I want to +see him.”</p> +<p>“Yes, well, you won’t see him this evening,” +replied the buffo. “He’s only in the next room, +but he’s much too busy to come.”</p> +<p>“What is he doing?”</p> +<p>“Baptising Christians—those who couldn’t +make up their minds before whether they would be converted or +not.”</p> +<p>“Very well, we won’t interrupt him.”</p> +<p>So I had to be content with Argantino, who came with his book, +his rod of magic and his wings. After flying about for some +time in a hall with columns, he settled down, and someone entered +and told him the disquieting news about Pope Gregorio III being +shut up in Paris. But, knowing that it was the will of +heaven that the inhabitants should not perish, he summoned his +confidential family devil Nacalone by opening the book, just as a +rich man of to-day liberates infernal power by opening his +cheque-book. Nacalone was as comic as the mask Pasquino, +and tumbled to show his willingness to obey. He had a +string to his back so that he could be turned upside down and +made to stand on his head. He received his instructions and +flew off to execute them.</p> +<p>The Viennese columns disappeared and the devils, plenty of +them, all with wings and tails and horns, were shown, as <!-- +page 80--><a name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +80</span>in a vision, working at the subterranean road. Two +were sawing a block of stone; some flew up to use their hammers +and do work in the upper parts of the tunnel; one, who was +perhaps nervous or perhaps more of an artist and wanted to look +the part of a modern Palermitan workman, used his legs to climb a +ladder to reach his work; others were digging up the ground and +knocking down the walls; a devil wheeled an empty Sicilian cart, +painted with paladins, rapidly across the stage and after a +moment wheeled it back slowly because it was now heavily laden +with tools and cement; another kept coming with a basket of +stones on his shoulder and emptying them down in heaps. It +was a busy scene and much applauded, especially the cart. +The Viennese columns hid it from view.</p> +<p>The buffo was very proud of this scene, and no wonder.</p> +<p>“There is nothing like it in Dante. But +then,” he continued, “there would not be likely to +be. What is Dante? As versification, as language, his +poem is fine, splendid, supreme, above all other poetry books; +but as sense, what is it? And then again, why should Dante +go about to make me believe in devils? Me! the ruler of all +the devils in the teatrino! As though I did not know more +about devils than anyone. Dante is the Emperor of Words, +but the buffo is the Emperor of Deeds. And then his +obscurity! As a theme for discussion Dante is as obscure as +religion. One says: ‘It is so.’ While +another says: ‘It is not so.’ As men discuss a +melon and one says: ‘Inside it is red.’ While +another says: ‘Inside it is white.’ Who can +bear testimony to the truth of Dante’s words? We +cannot cut his poem open and see his inner meaning. Whereas +I have cut my inferno open for you. I have shown you what +it is like inside, and you can bear testimony to the truth of the +subterranean road.”</p> +<p>The buffo told me that the Christians in Paris were not armed, +but they all got safely away to Montalbano. During the +siege, the Pope directed the defence, and the people, following +his commands, threw their furniture over the <!-- page 81--><a +name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 81</span>walls with +the intention of damaging the enemy; but the Turkish Emperors had +made a study of the art of war and taught their men how to hold +their shields over their heads, and thus they warded off the +chairs and tables and were able to creep along under cover, +approach the city, climb up the walls and descend into the +piazza. The first who entered went round to open the gates +and let the rest in. As soon as they had recovered from +their surprise at finding that the inhabitants had all escaped, +they began to commit sacrileges. Balestrazzo, Emperor of +Turgovia, occupied the principal church of Paris as a stable for +his horses. Rainello, a nephew of the traitor Gano di +Magonza, wishing to do a bravery, went into a church and cried +with a loud voice:</p> +<p>“Take down that crucifix; it is only wood; if it had +been a god I should not have denied the faith. Take it +away. There is only one God and Mahomet is his +prophet.”</p> +<p>With this he leapt on the altar, drew his sword, and was about +to hew the crucifix into pieces when a thunderbolt struck +him. As he was the first to lay hands upon the sacred +images, so he was the first to be struck. But he recovered; +he did not die of the thunderbolt; it was the will of heaven that +he should live to be killed by Guido Santo.</p> +<p>It was a pity that I had to go to Calatafimi and could not +stay for all this, but before I went I had the satisfaction of +seeing Ettorina go mad. At first she was hardly more than +slightly unhinged, yet she was mad enough to enter the +enemy’s camp by night. The sentinel had just been +awakened by the corporal, but she paid no more attention to them +than they to her. Nor did she shrink from making +consecutive fifths, or downright octaves, with Costanzo as she +crossed the stage, going away to fetch a quantity of wood to +light a fire because it was a chilly evening; but, as the buffo +pointed out, she had a sufficient dramatic reason to justify the +licence. Presently, like the laden Sicilian cart, she +staggered back with her faggots and disappeared. In a few +moments we saw the fitful glare from <!-- page 82--><a +name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 82</span>the +conflagration she had kindled dancing on the combustible pavilion +which took up all the back of the scene. Various Turkish +soldiers entered to investigate the cause of the unwonted light, +but they did not return to report, she killed them all, one after +the other; and this gave time which the buffo utilised by +applying a match from below, and, while the pavilion blazed and +the audience applauded, Ettorina in her burnished armour went as +mad as Tilburina in her white satin till the curtain fell.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI<br /> +THE ESCAPE FROM PARIS</h3> +<p>Although I had to miss a great deal that it would have been +interesting to see on the stage, I spent a couple of mornings +with the buffo in his workshop helping to make the scene of the +people escaping, which was perhaps even better than being among +the audience later. I think he is most happy when he is +holding up the mirror to nature and reproducing modern Palermitan +life as it appears to him. He enjoyed the devils and the +subterranean road, but the inhabitants of Paris in modern +costume, each saving his most precious object and escaping with +the Pope through the subterranean road to Montalbano, was a +larger canvas and gave him more opportunities. As a +creative artist he is in the fortunate position of being up to a +certain point his own impresario, stage-manager and +performer. Nevertheless he has to rely on the co-operation +of his father and Gildo, and there is always the public to be +considered, therefore it is possible that some of the things we +made and contemplated in the workshop did not get so far as to be +presented on the stage.</p> +<p>There was a sluggard carrying a mattress under each arm; and a +drunkard carrying a bottle of wine, a real glass bottle that +would catch the light and make an effect. Another man had +on his back a table and was carrying a <!-- page 83--><a +name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 83</span>plate, a +knife, fork, spoon and napkin; he was a glutton. The masks +Pasquino and Onofrio were making a comic escape and talking in +dialect; Pasquino was carrying his wife Rosina on his shoulder +and a pillow in his hand, and Onofrio was saving an article of +crockery made at Caltagirone. And because the buffo was +studying to become a singer he had made a musician:</p> +<p>“But I cannot show his voice,” he complained.</p> +<p>“He might be practising a solfeggio,” I suggested, +“which you could sing for him.” But this was +not treating the buffo’s voice with proper respect. +“Or put a piece of music-paper in his hand and make him a +composer.”</p> +<p>“Bravo! But what is written on the +music-paper?”</p> +<p>I said: “<i>Stornelli Montagnoli</i>.”</p> +<p>He began to hum meditatively:</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/music1.jpg"> +<img alt="Music in the Play" src="images/music1.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>“No,” he said, “that won’t do. +In the first place it is not yet known in Palermo, and when it +is, it will be so popular that no one in particular will think of +saving it.”</p> +<p>“Very well then,” I replied, “make it that +he has just discovered an entirely new resolution of the dominant +seventh and has written it down before he forgets it.”</p> +<p>“All right. And this is the painter; he has his +easel and a picture which he has only just begun; that is more +precious to him than all the pictures he has finished because it +is so full of hope.”</p> +<p>“Bravo, Buffo. And where is the miser?”</p> +<p>“Oh Caspita!” he exclaimed. “How +clever you are! Of course there must be a miser. We +will make him at once.”</p> +<p>So we selected an old man marionette who happened to <!-- page +84--><a name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 84</span>have +nothing particular to do at the moment, and got a piece of +sacking out of which we made a bag and filled it—not with +gold—</p> +<p>“No,” said the buffo, “that must be one of +the things the people do not see, they must imagine the +gold.” Then we loaded the miser with his bag and +added him to the crowd of fugitives.</p> +<p>And he had made a woman saving a mouse-trap; she was a +suffragette. That was because he had read in the +<i>Giornale di Sicilia</i> that in England a meeting of +suffragettes had been dispersed by letting mice in among +them. The buffo’s suffragette had argued thus:</p> +<p>“In all the world there are mice; Montalbano will be no +exception. How do I know what sort of house I shall have +there? It will probably be over-run with mice. If I +take this trap with me, at least I shall be able to catch some of +them.”</p> +<p>It turned out that she had to sleep on the floor in someone +else’s house like a fugitive from Messina, and the +mouse-trap came in very handy.</p> +<p>And he had made a chemist who was saving a medicine chest and +a few instruments. The chemist had argued thus:</p> +<p>“In Montalbano there will be no order. Here in +Paris the restaurants are well-managed and the food is +good. How can I tell what sort of food they will give us +there? Very likely we shall have to depend a great deal +upon chance. I will take these instruments and medicine and +earn money by curing those who will be sure to be upset by the +badness of the food.”</p> +<p>And a man came weeping; his father had died the day before and +there had not been time to bury the body, but it had been put +into a coffin and the undertaker’s men were laughing +because the son was rich and had promised to pay them extra for +carrying the body to Montalbano and burying it there; but the son +did not see they were laughing, he was in front to show them the +way.</p> +<p>Two boys came along, each saving a marionette, one had <!-- +page 85--><a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +85</span>Orlando, the other Rinaldo; they forgot that they were +escaping and stopped to make the paladins fight; a third boy came +and said they were his marionettes and the others had stolen +them, and the boys left Orlando and Rinaldo lying on the stage +and began to fight among themselves till their three mothers +followed.</p> +<p>“Be quick, be quick, you silly boys, be quick,” +shouted the mothers, hustling everything before them—boys, +marionettes and all—as an autumn hurricane sweeps away the +fallen leaves.</p> +<p>“What is that man doing?” I inquired.</p> +<p>“Which man?”</p> +<p>“The one standing in the corner there—he seems to +have a camera.”</p> +<p>“Yes, that’s right. He has been sent by the +Cinematograph Company to reproduce the scene for their +show.”</p> +<p>“Oh! I see. That’s a capital idea; the +people will like that.”</p> +<p>“Yes, won’t they?”</p> +<p>And two men were dragging a heavy bundle along on the ground +between them, and I asked:</p> +<p>“What’s in the bundle?”</p> +<p>“Clothes,” he replied.</p> +<p>And there was a woman carrying a hen in a basket, and the hen +escaped from the basket, laid an egg in the middle of the stage +and cackled back into Paris; but the woman saved the egg and +said: “Better an egg to-day than a hen +to-morrow.”</p> +<p>Another woman was carrying her baby on one arm and leading a +child by the hand, and the child was crying because it had to +walk too fast and was tired.</p> +<p>“This is the astronomer,” said the buffo.</p> +<p>“Is that his umbrella under his arm? It seems too +long and too bright.”</p> +<p>“No; that is Halley’s comet which he has predicted +for next spring. He does not want to leave it behind, the +Turks might destroy it and he would lose his +reputation.”</p> +<p><!-- page 86--><a name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +86</span>There was the boy from the barber’s shop opposite; +he had been playing with a black kitten when the alarm came and +he joined the fugitives just as he was, in his white tunic with +the kitten in his arms and a comb stuck in his bushy hair. +And there came a troop of old women, chattering and shuffling +along and understanding no more about it all than I should have +understood if I had not had my buffo, my programme +raisonné, to explain it.</p> +<p>Then I said: “Buffo mio, we have had a musician and a +painter, where is the poet?”</p> +<p>“Here he comes.” And there came a pale, +Alfred de Musset youth with long hair, a roll of paper and a +quill pen. “Do you know what he is saying? He +is saying: ‘Better to embrace and be betrayed than to +suffer and die in ignorance.’“</p> +<p>“Is that the philosophy of the buffo?” I +inquired.</p> +<p>“It is the philosophy of the poet,” he +replied.</p> +<p>“Isn’t it rather beyond the public? Will +they understand?”</p> +<p>“The public won’t hear that; it is only for you +and me. There are many things we do not tell the public +because they are the public; but we understand because we are +artists.”</p> +<p>“Very well. And then if we have a poet we must +have a critic—won’t this one do? he has a book; +perhaps he is going to review it, or perhaps it is his +encyclopædia to save him from making mistakes.”</p> +<p>“If you like, he shall be the critic; only then you +ought to tell me what he is saying.”</p> +<p>“He is saying: ‘I despise everything because it is +not something else.’“</p> +<p>“Bravo, bravo! That is better than what the poet +said.”</p> +<p>“O my dear Buffo, I am not going to admit that. +Besides, it is not true of all critics.”</p> +<p>“What I said is not true of all poets.”</p> +<p>“Well, if we don’t like what we have made them +say, let us have someone to follow and show them where they are +both wrong.”</p> +<p><!-- page 87--><a name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +87</span>“All right. Let me see. That will be +when they have had time to think it over. That will be the +Cold Dawn of the following morning. We will now make the +Aurora.”</p> +<p>So we found a disengaged lady marionette and began to dress +her in a piece of cobwebby grey muslin from which the last few +spangles had not yet dropped. I said:</p> +<p>“I’m not at all sure that this is not going too +far. Do you think we can really show the Cold Dawn of the +following morning escaping out of Paris by the underground +road?”</p> +<p>“She must go; she will be wanted at Montalbano to show +some of the people that they have saved the wrong +things.”</p> +<p>“Very true. Yes. That is what people so +often do when they travel, they leave behind them the things they +want most and take a lot of other things that are useless. +Now, that resolution of the dominant seventh was hardly worth +saving—at least it was not really new.”</p> +<p>“Where did you get it from?”</p> +<p>“I stole it out of the works of the musician whose bust +was on your maestro’s piano the other day, the one with the +Dutch name who lived in Vienna.”</p> +<p>“I hope you invented what the critic said?”</p> +<p>“Not exactly. Your poet reminded me of something +in Walt Whitman and I twisted it round and gave it to the +critic.”</p> +<p>“What’s Walt Whitman? Is he another +Dutchman?”</p> +<p>“He was an American poet, but his mother had a Dutch +name.”</p> +<p>“Did he come to the teatrino?”</p> +<p>“He never came to Europe. I wish he had been to +the teatrino. He would have liked your Escape from Paris, +but perhaps he would not have cared so much for the +paladins. He wrote something about them.”</p> +<p>“What did he say?”</p> +<p>“If he had seen the end of the story, when the angel +takes Guido Santo’s soul out of his mouth, I believe he +would have said that instead of flying up to heaven he flew +across the Atlantic with it and installed it ‘amid the <!-- +page 88--><a name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +88</span>kitchenware’ to animate all the machinery and +things in one of the Exhibitions held by the American Institute +in New York.”</p> +<p>“Is that what he said?”</p> +<p>“No. What he said was that all that world of +romance was dead:</p> +<blockquote><p>Passed to its charnel vault—laid on the +shelf—coffin’d with crown and armour on,<br /> +Blazon’d with Shakespeare’s purple page,<br /> +And dirged by Tennyson’s sweet sad rhyme.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“Well, it is not true. But of course if he never +came to the teatrino he could not know. Americans do come +to the teatrino. I never know which are Americans and which +are English; for the English come too. They come in the +winter and the spring, and when they are pleased with some stage +trick—”</p> +<p>“I suppose you mean with some miracle?”</p> +<p>“Of course,” he replied; “it is the same +thing. When they are pleased with some stage miracle, they +clap their hands and applaud.”</p> +<p>“That is nice and sympathetic of them.”</p> +<p>“Yes, and they shout out loud and cry: ‘Bravo, +very good night.’“</p> +<p>“No, Buffo! Is that really what they +say?”</p> +<p>“Yes, they shout: ‘Bravo, very good night,’ +and it is a pleasure to hear them.”</p> +<p>“I should think so. I must come in the winter next +time and hear them say that.”</p> +<p>“They all ask me some questions. I know what they +mean, but I cannot speak to them, and, if you please, will you +write down for me in English what I shall tell you, so that I can +show them the paper?”</p> +<p>“Certainly, my dear Buffo, any little thing of that +kind. If any of them come to see the Escape from Paris, I +should think they will have a good many questions to ask. +For instance, there is the Aurora”—He was finishing +her off by putting a silver fillet round her hair and a shining +star <!-- page 89--><a name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +89</span>upon her forehead—”I cannot help it, but I +still feel unhappy about her. She does not explain +herself.”</p> +<p>“That will not signify. We must leave room for the +imagination to play—not too much, but it is a mistake to be +too exact. There must be some mystery which the public can +take in any way they choose. It is like the nuts on the +bicycle, they must not be left loose, but they must not be +screwed too tight.”</p> +<p>I gave way, saying: “I suspect you are right. It +flatters the spectators to feel that they are helping the +performance by using their imagination. And if they +don’t understand—well, they can think they do and +that flatters them again. And there is another reason why +we must not tell the public everything—it would take too +long.”</p> +<p>“Ah yes! We must not bore the public or they will +not come again to the teatrino, and then where would the money +come from to pay for my singing lessons?”</p> +<p>So we let the Cold Dawn follow among the rest. There +were half a dozen rollicking blue-jackets off the warship in the +port, they had been spending the evening with their girls and +were escaping with them. When I objected that Paris was a +sea-port town only in a Bohemian sense, he replied that that was +enough for him; and when I said that if the sailors really had a +ship anywhere near, they would have done better to escape by sea, +he complained that I was being fastidious.</p> +<p>There were soldiers arm-in-arm and singing, they had been +interrupted while drinking in a wine-shop in a side street off +the Via Macqueda and were saving the marsala which they had not +finished.</p> +<p>After them came the maresciallo dei carabinieri in the uniform +he wears for a festa, with a plume in his three-cornered +hat. He was a broad, beefy fellow, taller than the +soldiers, being made of a marionette who is usually a +giant. He came swinging along, all so big and so burly, +followed by a lady, showily dressed, who walked mincingly and was +saving a pair of pink satin shoes and a powder-puff. She +<!-- page 90--><a name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +90</span>kept calling to him to stop, she wanted to speak to +him. But he would not listen, he was not going to pay any +attention to her—not in his gala uniform, it would not have +been proper. Besides, there were people looking.</p> +<p>A blind musician with a broken nose and a falsetto voice was +led by his mate who carried a ‘cello. An interrupted +wedding party followed, and school-children with their +professors, sick people out of the hospital with doctors and +nurses to help them, and a rabble of water-sellers, shoe-blacks, +pedlars and men pushing carts.</p> +<p>Then followed the paladinessa Ettorina still mad, so mad that +they were dragging her along and forcing her to escape while she +struggled to get free and did not want to go, because a mad +person does not understand danger. And paladins and +warriors came—Amantebrava, Lungobello, Ottonetto and many +more whose names I do not remember.</p> +<p>Last of all came Pope Gregorio III. He was not one to +leave the city till the last of his flock had been saved. +He wore his tiara and was in white robes with a red cross front +and back; he carried his crosier in his left hand and on his +right thumb was a diamond ring which sparkled as he blessed the +people. So he passed with his Secretary of State, his +cardinals, his bishops, his monsignori, his acolytes, his +chamberlains, his Guardia Nobile and his Swiss Guard; some +carried lighted candles, some carried banners and others crosses; +some were swinging incense and others were intoning the psalm +<i>In Exitu Israel</i>. The solemn pomp of the procession +disappeared into the opening of the subterranean road and the +sound of the singing could no longer be heard. They were +all safely gone. The stage was empty. Yet the curtain +did not fall.</p> +<p>Then came a poor mad boy, a sordo-muto, who had been +overlooked. He was in a great hurry, making frightful +inarticulate noises and running this way and that, being too much +alarmed to go straight. Before he had found the mouth of +the tunnel the curtain fell and we did not see what became of +him. He may have been left behind after all.</p> +<h2><!-- page 93--><a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +93</span>CATANIA</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER VII<br /> +THE BUFFO’S HOLIDAY</h3> +<p>I do not remember who started the idea that the buffo should +come to Catania with me; it grew up, as inevitable ideas do, +without any of us being sure whether he suggested it, or Papa, or +Gildo, or one of the sisters, or I, and it became the chief +subject of conversation in the Greco family for days.</p> +<p>It would not be true to say that he had never been away from +Palermo, because when he was a boy all the family went to try +their fortune in Brazil and stayed there five years running a +marionette theatre; when they returned to Palermo, they left +behind them in South America the eldest son, Gaetano, who still +keeps a teatrino there. But the buffo saw no more of South +America than he has seen of Sicily and, except for this five +years in Brazil and an occasional day in the country round +Palermo, had never been outside his native town. But he +knew that Catania was on the other side of the island and near +the sea, and expected it to be hotter than Palermo because of the +propinquity of Etna. He paid no attention to my assurances +that the temperature would be about the same and said he should +bring his great-coat, not on account of the heat, but because he +hoped that if he was seen with it he might be taken for an +English tourist.</p> +<p>We did not start from Palermo together. I had to go to +Caltanissetta, which is on a line that branches off at S. +Caterina Xirbi from the main line between Palermo and +Catania. We arranged to meet at the junction three days +after I left Palermo. I got there from Caltanissetta just +before the train from Palermo arrived, and the buffo was <!-- +page 94--><a name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +94</span>looking out of the window. As soon as he saw me on +the platform he got down and came to me saying:</p> +<p>“Oh! I am so glad to see you again; now everything will +be all right. I have been wretched ever since you went +away. I have not been able to eat by night or to sleep by +day for thinking of you. And this has been going on for two +whole months; but now I shall recover.”</p> +<p>So we got into the train and pursued our journey.</p> +<p>“I see you have brought your great-coat,” I +said.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said, “if I am to be an English +gentleman I shall have to wear it in Catania.”</p> +<p>“But won’t it do if you carry it over your +arm?” I inquired.</p> +<p>“No,” he said, “because then they would see +my other coat, and that is so dilapidated they would suspect the +truth.”</p> +<p>“Your clothes are quite good enough for any English +gentleman anywhere,” I pointed out.</p> +<p>“They are not so good as yours,” he replied; +“the teatrino is dirty and they soon wear out. My +great-coat appears to be fresh because I seldom put it on. +I shall use it in Catania to conceal the shabbiness of my other +clothes.”</p> +<p>“You need not be so particular. My father when he +travelled in Italy did not pay so much attention to his personal +appearance.”</p> +<p>“You have never told me about your father. Did he +travel for some English firm? Was it tiles? or perhaps +sewing-machines? They pay better, I believe.”</p> +<p>“He did not travel for any firm. He was a +barrister, an avvocato, and travelled for recreation during the +Long Vacation. I can tell you how he used to dress, because +just before I left London I copied part of a letter he wrote to +my mother, and I have it in my pocket.”</p> +<p>This is the extract from my father’s letter which I read +to the buffo; it is dated Hôtel des Bergues, Geneva, 1 +October, 1861:</p> +<blockquote><p><!-- page 95--><a name="page95"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 95</span>Reading the <i>Times</i> of Friday +this morning I saw a letter signed G.U. which I have no doubt is +a mistake for J.U. and means John Unthank and which signifies he +and his family are in Paris. It is a letter complaining of +the shabby costume of Englishmen and is a foolish letter but it +will have the effect of making me furnish myself with a new +wideawake or something of that sort at Paris for my present +wideawake has got another hole in it and is really very bad +though I don’t know why it should wear so fast as I take +great care of it and am rather disappointed that it should fall +to pieces. Mr. Unthank pointed out to me on the Lake of +Como that my dressing-gown which I always wear travelling is out +at elbows which indeed I find it is but that fact seemed to +grieve Mr. Unthank less than the shabbiness of my hat and he +offered to give me a new one that is a wideawake of his own which +had been newly lined and not worn as he said since it was lined +if I would throw my old wideawake away. I consented but I +left Milan before he had an opportunity of performing his +promise.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“It was kind of your father’s friend to offer him +his old hat; don’t you think so?”</p> +<p>“Yes, very kind of him. But, you see, he had his +reasons.”</p> +<p>“Of course, he did not want to be seen with anyone so +badly dressed.”</p> +<p>“That is what he says in his letter to the +<i>Times</i>. I copied that in the British Museum. He +does not mention my father by name, he merely speaks of +well-dressed Englishmen in Paris (by which he means people like +himself) frequently seeing a respectable professional man +disguised as an omnibus conductor or cab-driver and ‘being +compelled to stand talking with a vulgar-looking object because +they have unfortunately recognised an old acquaintance and not +had time to run across the road to avoid him.’ My +father, no doubt, thought of Mr. Unthank’s conversations +with him at Como and Milan and said to himself, +‘That’s me.’ The cap fitted him and he +put it on.”</p> +<p><!-- page 96--><a name="page96"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +96</span>“Excuse me; your father cannot have put the cap +on, he says he had to leave Milan too soon for that.”</p> +<p>“O my dear Buffo, I am so sorry. When I said the +cap, I did not mean the wideawake, I was only using an English +idiom.”</p> +<p>“I see, I understand. We also have a similar +expression, but it is not about hats, it is about boots, I think, +or coats. I will find out and tell you.”</p> +<p>“My father does not say he ‘had to leave’; +he only says he left; and my mother, who agreed with his friends +and thought his taste in dress deplorable, believed that he ran +away to escape from Mr. Unthank’s hat.”</p> +<p>“Oh! but a hat is always worth something. I should +have waited for the hat. Was it really a very bad +one?”</p> +<p>“I do not remember it, I should think it must have been +pretty bad. The dressing-gown was awful. It was +maroon, and his friends called it his wife’s mantle. +After he left off wearing it, it was given to us children for +dressing up. It was no use for anything else and it was not +much use for that. So you see, Buffo, you need not trouble +about your clothes if you want to appear English. You do +not look in the least like a cab-driver.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps not; but I think it will be safer for me not to +be an Englishman. All this about your father’s +dressing-gown happened half a century ago, and the letter and the +article in the <i>Times</i> must have done some good because the +English gentlemen who come to the teatrino do not dress like that +now. You are always beautifully dressed.”</p> +<p>“Thank you very much, Buffo, but if that is more than +merely one of your Sicilian compliments, it only shows that I +inherit my ideas about dress from my mother rather than from my +father.”</p> +<p>“I think I had better be a Portuguese gentleman from +Rio, a friend of yours, over on a visit, and you shall be a +Sicilian.”</p> +<p>“We will be a couple of cavalieri erranti like Guido +Santo and Argantino on their travels. But I do not think +<!-- page 97--><a name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +97</span>it will quite do for me to be a Sicilian. I cannot +talk dialect and I cannot gesticulate. And then, am I not +too well dressed?”</p> +<p>“That will not matter; you shall be an aristocratic +Sicilian, they are often quite well dressed. And as for the +dialect and the gesticulation, it is now the fashion among the +upper classes to speak Tuscan and not to gesticulate. It is +considered more—I cannot remember the word, I saw it in the +<i>Giornale di Sicilia</i>, it is an English word.”</p> +<p>“Do you mean it is more chic?”</p> +<p>“It is not exactly that and chic is a French word. +One moment, if you please. It is—we say lo +snobismo.”</p> +<p>“I see. Very well; I will play the Sicilian snob, +but I never saw one so I shall have to do it extempore as Snug +had to play the part of Lion.”</p> +<p>“What is Snug? another American poet?</p> +<p>“He was a joiner and lived in Athens at the time when +all the good things happened. But his father, the author of +his being, as we say, was an English poet and cast him for the +part of Lion in <i>Pyramus and Thisbe</i>.”</p> +<p>“What is Thisbe? a wandering knight?”</p> +<p>“No. Thisbe was the lady loved by Pyramus and was +acted by Flute the bellows-mender. It’s all in that +poet who said what I told you when we were making the Escape from +Paris—you remember, about holding the mirror up to +nature.”</p> +<p>“I wish I could read your English poets. I like +everything English. The Englishmen who come to the teatrino +are always good and kind—tutti bravi—I wish I were an +Englishman—a real one I mean, like you.”</p> +<p>Here were more compliments, so I replied: “I wish I were +a Sicilian buffo.”</p> +<p>“Ah! but you could not be that,” said he. +“Now I could have my hair cut short, grow a beard on my +chin, a pair of spectacles on my eyes and heels on my boots and +then I should only have to be naturalised. But you could +never be a buffo—not even an English one.”</p> +<p><!-- page 98--><a name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +98</span>“No; I suppose not. You see, I’m too +serious. Gildo says I take a gloomy view of +life.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” he agreed, “why do you?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” I replied. “My +poor mother—my adorata mamma, as you call her—used to +make the same complaint. She thought I inherited my +desponding temperament from my father.”</p> +<p>“As you inherited your taste in dress from +her.”</p> +<p>“Just so. But I think I am like Orlando and your +other paladins, and that I am as I am because it was the will of +heaven.”</p> +<p>“That is only another way of saying the same +thing,” observed the buffo; which rather surprised me +because I did not know he took such a just view of the +significance of evolution.</p> +<p>On arriving at Catania we went to the albergo and, instead of +following the usual course and giving his Christian name and +surname, Alessandro Greco, he preferred to specify his profession +and describe himself as “Tenore Greco.” They +posted this up in the hall under my name, with the unexpected +result that the other guests ignored him, thinking the words +applied to me and that I was a tenor singer from Greece.</p> +<p>The first thing to be done was to go out and get something to +eat, and as we went along the buffo expressed his delight with +the appearance of Catania. He had no idea that such a town +could exist outside Palermo or Brazil.</p> +<p>“It is beautiful,” he exclaimed, “yes, and I +shall always declare that it is beautiful. But, my dear +Enrico, will you be kind enough to tell me why it is so +black?”</p> +<p>“That, my dear Buffo,” I replied, “is on +account of the lava.”</p> +<p>“But how do you mean—the lava? What is this +lava that you speak of, and how does it darken the houses and the +streets?”</p> +<p>To which I replied as follows: “The lava is that mass of +fire which issues from Etna and then dissolves itself and <!-- +page 99--><a name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +99</span>becomes formed into black rock, and, as it is +excessively hard, the people of Catania use it for building their +houses and for paving their streets.”</p> +<p>I do not remember expressing myself precisely in these words, +but the buffo wrote me an account of his holiday and this is what +he says I said. It seems that I continued thus:</p> +<p>“This house, for example, is built of lava, this +pavement is lava, those columns are lava, that elephant over the +fountain is sculptured in lava, this is lava, that is lava, +everything is lava; even those—”</p> +<p>“Stop, stop,” interrupted the buffo, “for +pity’s sake stop, or I shall begin to think that you and I +also are made of lava.”</p> +<p>We reached the Birraria Svizzera and sat down.</p> +<p>“Are you hungry, Buffo?”</p> +<p>“I am always hungry. My subterranean road is +always ready.”</p> +<p>“That’s capital,” I replied. +“And what particular fugitive would you like to send down +it now?”</p> +<p>“Seppia and interiori di pollo,” he replied +without hesitation.</p> +<p>Now the first of these is cuttle-fish and looks as though the +cook in sending to table something that ought to have been thrown +away had tried to conceal it by emptying a bottle of ink into the +dish; the second is un-selected giblets. So I replied:</p> +<p>“Very well; but I don’t think I’ll join +you. No one will believe I am a Sicilian unless I eat +maccaroni, and perhaps I will have a veal cutlet afterwards; that +will be more suited to my subterranean road.”</p> +<p>“You had better have what I have,” said he, +“it is exquisite.”</p> +<p>“Not to-day,” I replied gently.</p> +<p>So we ate our dinner and discussed what we should do during +the evening. He wanted to go to the marionette theatre, and +I was not surprised, for I remembered that the <!-- page 100--><a +name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 100</span>vergers of +Westminster Abbey and of Salisbury Cathedral spend their holidays +making tours to visit other cathedrals; cooks go to Food +Exhibitions; Scotch station-masters come to London and spend +their time in the Underground railways; and English journalists +when they meet on an outing, say to one another:</p> +<p>“It is a foggy morning; let us go in and split three or +four infinitives.”</p> +<p>So I took him to the Teatro Sicilia and introduced him to the +proprietor, Gregorio Grasso, a half-brother of Giovanni Grasso, +and we went behind the scenes to study the difference between the +Catanian and the Palermitan systems. He was first struck by +the immense size of the place as compared with his own little +theatre; next by the orchestra which, instead of being a +mechanical piano turned by a boy, consisted of a violin, a guitar +and a double-bass played by men; and finally by the manner of +manipulating the figures, which distressed him so seriously that +he forgot he was a Portuguese gentleman and began to give +Gregorio a lesson to show him how much better we do things in +Palermo; but it came to nothing, because a method that produces a +good effect when applied to a small and fairly light marionette +will not do when applied to one that is nearly a metre and a half +high and weighs about fifty kilogrammes; it is like trying to +play an elaborate violin passage on the horn. Soon we were +politely invited to go to the front, where we were shown into +good places, and the performance began. In the auditorium +there was the familiar, pleasant, faint crackling of melon seeds +and peanuts which the people were munching as at home, and a man +pushing his way about among them selling lemonade, and water with +a dash of anise in it.</p> +<p>The buffo thought the marionettes of Catania were magnificent, +well-modelled and sumptuously dressed; but their size and their +weight make it impossible for them to move with the delicacy and +naturalness which he and his father and brother know so well how +to impart to those at <!-- page 101--><a name="page101"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 101</span>home. They may start fairly +well, but sooner or later the figure will betray to the public +the fatigue of the operator who is standing exhausted on the +platform behind, no longer capable of communicating any semblance +of life to the limbs of the puppet. He did not, however, +arrive at this conclusion all at once, for, in the course of the +performance when I asked him how it was that the marionettes of +Catania were not more expressive, he replied:</p> +<p>“I suppose it must be on account of the lava.”</p> +<p>The figures appear against the back-cloth and the operator +cannot reach forward to bring them nearer to the audience, thus +the front part of the stage is free—or rather it would be +free, but the public are permitted to stray on to it, and thus +the stage presents a picture of marionettes with two or three +live people sitting at each side.</p> +<p>“Buffo mio,” I said, “does it appear to you +to be a good plan that the public should go on the stage and +mingle with the paladins? It is not allowed in our own +theatre at home.”</p> +<p>“I am not sure that it is a bad plan,” he replied, +“it is true we do not allow it in Palermo; but one moment, +if you please, there is something coming into my head. Ah! +yes, it is about holding up the mirror to nature. Now here, +in Catania, this stage presents a truer mirror of nature than +ours in Palermo. For have you not observed in life that, +with the exception of a few really sensible people like you and +me, most men are merely puppets in the hands of others? +They do not act on their own ideas nor do they think for +themselves; also they adopt any words that are put into their +mouths. Now, it seems to me that the proportion of real men +compared with marionettes is not greater on this stage than we +observe it to be in life, and therefore we may say that the +proprietor of this theatre is following the advice of your +poet.”</p> +<p>He noticed that one of the chief characteristics of the +Catanian marionettes comes into evidence when they are +fighting. Two of them take up their positions opposite each +<!-- page 102--><a name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +102</span>other, sidling round and round like fighting cocks +preparing to set to; they raise their scimitars, cross them and +rub them one against the other, like butchers sharpening their +knives; after a certain time spent in this sword exercise, they +cross the stage and, turning suddenly round, face one another and +strike; the consequence of this manœuvre is that they both +fall to the ground. We were looking on at such a duel and +when the climax came the buffo rose to his feet and clapped his +hands expecting the rest of the public to join, but to his +surprise they remained cold, and declined “to crown his +applause with their acquiescence,” as he expressed +it. He turned wonderingly to the young man who was selling +lemonade and said, speaking with difficulty in broken Tuscan, as +a Portuguese gentleman from Rio might be expected to do:</p> +<p>“Tell me, Caro mio, why do not the public join me in +applauding?”</p> +<p>“My dear Sir,” replied the young man, “it is +out of the question. You do not seem to be aware of the +identity of the marionette who has just been killed. He is +a Christian and the brother-in-law of Rinaldo. He is +Ruggiero, a very noble youth. The public do not applaud, +because they are sorry for his death and, besides, it would be an +insult to Rinaldo if they were to applaud at the death of his +brother-in-law.”</p> +<p>On hearing this the buffo borrowed my handkerchief and wiped +away two tears, one from each of his eyes, then he returned it +politely and began mumbling to himself.</p> +<p>“What are you saying?” I inquired. +“Why do you speak so low?”</p> +<p>“Oh, it’s nothing,” he replied, “I was +merely reciting a prayer for the repose of the soul of poor +Ruggiero.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>The next morning I was down before him and had nearly finished +my coffee when he came slowly and sadly into the +dining-room. I said:</p> +<p><!-- page 103--><a name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +103</span>“Good morning, Buffo mio, and I hope you have had +a good night and slept well after your long journey and your +evening at the theatre.”</p> +<p>He sat down, put his arm on the table and mournfully rested +his head on his hand.</p> +<p>“My dear Enrico,” he said, “I have passed a +night of horror. I did not get to sleep at all, and then I +was continually waking up again—”</p> +<p>“Nonsense, Buffo,” I exclaimed.</p> +<p>“But it’s not nonsense. Ah! you do not know +what it is to lie awake all night, sleepless and trembling, +between sheets that are made of lava, and to hear footsteps and +the clanking of armour and to see Rinaldo shining in the dark and +threatening you as he holds over you his sword, Fusberta, and +shouts in your ear: ‘How dare you applaud when my +brother-in-law is killed?’“</p> +<p>He seemed to enjoy his coffee, however, and to be ready for +plenty of exertion. He wanted a piece of lava to take home +with him, and would it not be possible to pick up a piece if we +went to the slopes of Etna? So we made inquiries and were +told where to find the station of the Circum-Etnea Railway and +started soon after breakfast for Paternò. The soil +was black with lava and the wind was tremendous and carried the +gritty dust into our mouths and down our necks. In that way +he got plenty of lava to take home, but he wanted a large piece, +and we could not stop the train and get out and break a piece of +rock off, besides, we had nothing to break it with. We were +like that old sailor in the poem who was surrounded by water, +water everywhere, but not a drop of a kind to satisfy his +immediate requirements. It was just as bad at +Paternò; from the station to the town all our energies +were required to get along in the blinding wind and the stinging +dust and then we had to have our luncheon.</p> +<p>“And what would you like for colazione, +Buffo?”</p> +<p>“Seppia and interiori di pollo, if you +please.”</p> +<p>But he had to be a Sicilian and eat maccaroni with me, <!-- +page 104--><a name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +104</span>because the inn could not provide what he wanted. +Altogether the day was perhaps something of a failure, and we +returned without the piece of lava.</p> +<p>In the evening we went to the Birraria Svizzera, and he ate +his seppia while I got through my maccaroni. When his +interiori di pollo came I said:</p> +<p>“I will do my best to eat what you eat, not exactly but +as nearly as I can. Instead of a veal cutlet I will have +part of an esteriore di pollo. It rather surprises me that +you should always eat the same things. Gildo said you like +plenty of variety.”</p> +<p>“So I do,” he replied. “Look at my +plate. Can you imagine a more delicious variety?”</p> +<p>I looked and said: “Certainly there is variety; I doubt +whether our English fowls could show so much. +But—well, as long as you like it—”</p> +<p>Being rather tired after our day in the country we did not go +to any theatre, we stayed in the Birraria till bed-time talking +and listening to the music.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>Next day was the last of the buffo’s holiday, and I +proposed another excursion, but he said:</p> +<p>“Suppose we pretend that we have come to Catania on an +excursion, and then we can spend the day in the city. I +want to buy some things to take home with me for my +sisters.”</p> +<p>Accordingly we looked in the shop-windows and chose three +ornamental combs made of celluloid for the three sisters, a +snuff-box for papa, made of dried bergamot skin smelling so as to +scent the snuff, and a pair of braces for Gildo. It seemed +a pity that the buffo should not have something also, so he chose +for himself a handkerchief with a picture of the elephant of lava +over the fountain in the piazza and he gave me in return a metal +pencil-case. Then the question of the piece of lava had to +be taken up again. We consulted the landlord, who produced +a bit—exactly <!-- page 105--><a name="page105"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 105</span>what was wanted and only one franc +fifty. We had been wandering about in search of it and +there it was all the time in the same house with us.</p> +<p>“What on earth are you going to do with it, +Buffo?”</p> +<p>“Why, everyone who goes to Catania brings home a piece +of lava.”</p> +<p>“Yes, but what do they want it for? It might be a +neat chimney ornament, but you have no fireplace in your +house. Or you might use it as a paper-weight, but in your +family you scarcely ever write a letter.”</p> +<p>He looked at me sadly for a moment and then said:</p> +<p>“I thought you were an artist and now you are being +practical. Usefulness is not everything. This piece +of lava will be for me an object of eternal beauty, and when I +contemplate it I shall think of the happy time we have spent here +together.”</p> +<p>I said: “O Buffo! don’t go on like that or you +will make me cry.”</p> +<p>In the evening we went to the Teatro Machiavelli and saw a +performance by living players. In the first act a good +young man introduced Rosina to the cavaliere, who congratulated +him on having won the affections of so virtuous and lovely a +girl. The cavaliere gave a bad old woman one hundred +francs, and in return she promised to procure him an interview +with Rosina. The bad old woman persuaded Rosina to enter a +house in which we knew the cavaliere was. The good young +man asked the bad old woman what she had done with his girl; of +course she had done nothing with her, but we heard shrieks. +The good young man became suspicious, broke open the door of the +house and, on learning the worst, shot the bad old woman dead and +was taken by the police.</p> +<p>“This seems as though it were going to be a very +interesting play,” said the buffo when the curtain had +fallen.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said I, “what do you think will +happen next?”</p> +<p>“You ought to know that,” he replied; +“it’s no use asking me. I never saw a Sicilian +play in Rio.”</p> +<p><!-- page 106--><a name="page106"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +106</span>“Of course not; I was forgetting. I should +say that the good young man will be acquitted because it was +justifiable homicide or that he will return after a short term of +imprisonment; in any case I think he will marry Rosina and live +happily ever after.”</p> +<p>“I see,” he replied. “You think it +will be a comedy. People who take a gloomy view of life +naturally expect something cheerful in the theatre. But +what if it is a tragedy? And how are you going to dispose +of the cavaliere? Is he to carry his wickedness through +your comedy?”</p> +<p>“You want it to be a tragedy because you are a buffo, I +suppose. Now let me think. If you are +right—”</p> +<p>Before I could see my way to a tragic plot, the curtain rose +on Act II. The women of the village were going to Mass, but +Rosina, reduced to ragged misery, fell on the steps, not worthy +to enter. The cavaliere came by and offered her money, +which she indignantly spurned. A good old woman, who +happened to be passing, scowled at the cavaliere and kindly led +Rosina away. An old man returned from America, where he had +been for twenty years to escape the consequences of a crime the +details of which he ostentatiously suppressed. This was his +native village; he began recognising things and commenting on the +changes. Rosina came to him begging. He looked at her +and passed his hand over his eyes as he said:</p> +<p>“My girl, why are you begging at your age—so +young, so fair?”</p> +<p>“Ah! Old man, I am in ragged misery because my +father committed a crime.”</p> +<p>“A crime! What crime?”</p> +<p>So Rosina told him about it and the escape of the criminal to +America. The tears in her voice were so copious that her +words were nearly drowned, but that did not signify; we were +intelligent enough to have already guessed the relationship +between them and we knew that she must be supplying the details +which he had suppressed.</p> +<p><!-- page 107--><a name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +107</span>He struggled with his surging emotions as he watched +her delivering her sad tale and we felt more and more certain +that we must be right. There came a pause. She buried +her face in her hands. The old man spoke:</p> +<p>“Twenty years, did you say?”</p> +<p>“Twenty years.”</p> +<p>“And what was your mother’s name?”</p> +<p>“Concetta.”</p> +<p>“Dio mio! And your name?”</p> +<p>“Rosina.”</p> +<p>“Mia figlia!”</p> +<p>“Mio padre!”</p> +<p>Here they fell into each other’s arms and the orchestra +let loose a passage of wild allegria which it had been holding in +reserve. The revelation of the cause of the ragged misery +followed and was nearing its conclusion when the cavaliere +happened to pass by. Rosina pointed him out to her father, +who first made a speech at him and then shot him dead. +Rosina wept over his body, although she hated him, and the +curtain fell.</p> +<p>“That was very beautiful,” said the buffo. +“Do you still think it will be a comedy? I still +believe it will be a tragedy.”</p> +<p>“I am not sure,” I replied, “but we shall +soon know. Did not the old man listen well?”</p> +<p>“Yes. It was like life. Did you observe how +he made little calculations for himself while she told him the +story?”</p> +<p>“Yes, and one could see it all agreed with what he +knew.”</p> +<p>“He was like your father reading his friend’s +letter. The cap fitted him and he put it on.”</p> +<p>“Bravo, Buffo!”</p> +<p>“And when he made as though he would stroke her hair and +drew back because he was not yet sure—oh, it was +beautiful! But there was one thing I did not quite +understand. Why did the cavaliere fall dead?”</p> +<p><!-- page 108--><a name="page108"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +108</span>“Because the father shot him,” I +replied.</p> +<p>“He aimed in the other direction.”</p> +<p>“I also noticed that the old man fired to the right and +the cavaliere fell on his left, but that was only because of a +little defect of stage management. It does not do to be +fastidious. You must not forget that they are doing the +play as Snug the joiner did Lion, it has never been +written. It will go more smoothly next time.”</p> +<p>“Thank you. You see, I am not a regular +theatre-goer. There is another thing that puzzled me. +You remember the bad old woman in the first act who was +shot? Should you think I was being too fastidious if I +asked you why she rose from the dead and led Rosina kindly away +in the second act? No doubt it will be explained presently, +but, in the meantime, if you—”</p> +<p>“She did not rise from the dead; it was a different +woman.”</p> +<p>“It was the same woman.”</p> +<p>“Anyone could tell you are a Portuguese or an Englishman +or whatever you are—a foreigner of some kind; no Sicilian +would make such an objection. It was the same actress, but +a different character in the drama. That was either because +they have not enough ladies in the company, or because the lady +who ought to have taken one part or the other is away on a +holiday, or because the lady who acted wanted to show she could +do a good old woman and a bad old woman equally well.”</p> +<p>“Thank you very much. You can hardly +expect—But hush! they are beginning the third act, which +will explain everything.”</p> +<p>The curtain rose again. The background represented an +elegant circular temple built of sponge cake, strawberry ice and +spangles; it stood at the end of a perspective of columns +constructed of the same materials, and between the columns were +green bushes in ornamental flower-pots—all very pretty and +gay—”molto bellissimo,” as the buffo +said. The orchestra struck up a jigging tune in <!-- page +109--><a name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +109</span>six-eight time in a minor key with a refrain in the +tonic major, and a washed-out youth in evening dress with a +receding forehead, a long, bony nose, an eye-glass, prominent +upper-teeth, no chin, a hat on the back of his head, a brown +greatcoat over his arm, shiny boots, a cigarette and a +silver-topped cane, entered. I whispered:</p> +<p>“Is he dressed well enough for an Englishman?</p> +<p>“Yes,” whispered the buffo, “but this is no +Englishman. Don’t you see who it is and where we +are? This is the good young man in paradise. His +punishment has been too much for him and he has died in +prison.”</p> +<p>“But, Buffo mio,” I objected, “it’s a +different person altogether; it’s not a bit like +him.”</p> +<p>“It may be a different actor—I think it +is—but it is the same character in the drama. That is +either because they have too many men in the company, or because +the actor who did the good young man in the first act has gone +home to supper and another is finishing his part for him, or +because—I can’t think of any other reason just now, +and I want to hear what he is saying.”</p> +<p>Except for his clothes, the creature on the stage was little +more than a limp and a dribble, but there was enough of him to +sing a song telling us in the Neapolitan dialect that his notion +of happiness was to stroll up and down the Toledo ogling the +girls. When he had finished acknowledging the applause he +departed and his place was taken by a lady no longer young, in +flimsy pale blue muslin, a low neck and sham diamonds. +There lingered about her a hungry wistfulness, as though she were +still hoping to get a few more drops of enjoyment out of the +squeezed orange of her wasted life.</p> +<p>“And this must be Rosina,” whispered the buffo; +“Dio mio, how death has aged her!” Seeing I was +about to speak, he interrupted me: “It does not do to be +fastidious. No real Sicilian would make any +objection.”</p> +<p>The lady sang a song telling us in the Neapolitan dialect that +her notion of happiness was to stroll up and down the <!-- page +110--><a name="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +110</span>Toledo ogling the men. When she had finished +acknowledging the applause she departed and, almost immediately, +they both came on together.</p> +<p>“I told you so,” exclaimed the buffo triumphantly; +“they have met in paradise and are happy at +last.”</p> +<p>They performed a duet in the Neapolitan dialect and showed us +how they strolled up and down the Toledo ogling one +another. After they had finished acknowledging the applause +the curtain fell and we all left the theatre. I said:</p> +<p>“I do not know whether you are aware of what you have +done, but by making that temple of spangled pastry into heaven +you have wrecked your tragedy.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I gave up my tragedy as soon as I saw where we +were, and the play ended quite in your manner, didn’t it? +like the Comedy of Dante. Or do you mean that you have any +doubts about that last act taking place in heaven?”</p> +<p>“I have many doubts about that.”</p> +<p>“I admit, of course, that it would have been more +satisfactory, and much clearer as a comedy, if we could have seen +them both die before they went to paradise.”</p> +<p>“Would you like me to tell you the plain, +straightforward, honest, manly, brutal truth about it?”</p> +<p>“Very much indeed, if you don’t mind; but I should +not like you to strain yourself on my account.”</p> +<p>“All right, Buffo, I’ll be careful. Now +listen. I don’t believe that the last act, as you +call it, had anything to do with the story. It was a +music-hall turn added at the end of the play merely to close the +entertainment and send the audience away in good +spirits.”</p> +<p>“But that wrecks your comedy. And if the play was +neither comedy nor tragedy, what was it? You cannot expect +a simple Portuguese gentleman from Rio to understand your +Sicilian dramas all at once.”</p> +<p>“And we have not time now to discuss the question +exhaustively, for if you do not go to bed immediately you will +never be up to-morrow in time to catch your train back to +Palermo, and if you are late what will papa say <!-- page +111--><a name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +111</span>and what will the public think when they find nothing +ready in the teatrino?”</p> +<p>“That is true. Good night and thank you very much +for my holiday and for all you have done for me.”</p> +<p>“Prego, prego; I thank you for giving me the pleasure of +your company.”</p> +<p>“Not at all.”</p> +<p>“But I assure you—”</p> +<p>“If you go on like this I shall begin to cry, and then I +shall not sleep at all, and that will be worse than sitting up to +discuss the play. So good night, finally.”</p> +<p>“Good night, Buffo. You will forgive me if I do +not see you off in the morning; I do not want to get up at +half-past five. I wish you Buon viaggio. Give my love +to papa and Gildo and my respectful compliments to the +sisters. Have you got your lump of lava and all your other +goods? That’s right. Sleep well and do not +dream of Rosina and the good young man.”</p> +<p>“Arrivederci.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 115--><a name="page115"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 115</span>TRAPANI</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII<br /> +THE NASCITA</h3> +<p>Once I was at Trapani in September, and observed in a small +shop in a back street some queer little dolls’ heads made +of wax. They seemed to form a set, some women and some men, +and there were hands of wax to match. I did not think much +about them, one cannot very well investigate everything one +notices in a Sicilian town, and, as I turned away, these little +heads were driven out of mine by Ignazio Giacalone, who was +coming down the street. He is a young avvocato whom I have +known since he was a student. He told me that he was going +to be married next day, and invited me to his wedding.</p> +<p>In the evening another friend of mine, also an avvocato, +Alberto Scalisi, came to the albergo to take his coffee and, as +we all sat smoking and talking, something was said about an +article on the Nascita written by him and recently published in +<i>L’Amico</i>, a Trapanese Sunday newspaper. I knew +nothing about the Nascita, but I knew something about the +avvocato whose acquaintance I had made a few years previously at +the house of my friend Signor Decio D’Ali, with whom I had +been dining. After dinner many guests, including the +avvocato Scalisi, came to the house to rehearse a play they were +preparing for a charity performance; they were all amateurs, and +I never saw amateurs act so well. The Signora Decio +D’Ali and the Avvocato Scalisi were the best; his was a +comic part, and he did it with so much natural humour that I was +anxious to read his article whatever the Nascita might be, as to +which they gave me some preliminary information. They +reminded me of the Presepio, the representation of <!-- page +116--><a name="page116"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +116</span>the Natività at Bethlehem, which it is the +custom in many places to make at Christmas; there is a most +elaborate one, treated as though the event had happened in modern +times, preserved in the convent of S. Martino, in Naples; there +is one in the Musée de Cluny in Paris, +<i>L’Adoration des Rois et des Bergers</i>, Art Napolitain +XVIII siècle. I was most familiar with such things +in the chapels on the Sacro Monte at Varallo-Sesia, where the +figures are the size of life. When they saw I had got hold +of the idea, they told me that in Trapani it is the custom in the +homes of the sailors to celebrate the 8th September by making a +representation of the house of S. Joachim as it appeared on the +occasion of the birth of his daughter, the Madonna, and to keep +it on view for three weeks, till S. Michael’s day. +They do not do this in any other town, and the avvocato’s +article was about one he had seen.</p> +<p>Next morning about 7.30 Ignazio’s father most politely +called for me in a carriage and pair and, accompanied by two +other guests, we drove to the house of the bride’s family, +where there was a crowd of people, and we were all presented; +then we proceeded to the Municipio, where the civil part of the +marriage was performed; after which we returned to the +bride’s house and went through the religious service at an +altar that had been erected in one of the rooms. We admired +the presents and the flowers, partook of refreshments and +exchanged compliments till it was time to go, and I carried away +with me a copy of <i>L’Amico</i> given me by the Avvocato +Scalisi, who was one of the guests.</p> +<p>While reading his article I recognised that the little waxen +heads and hands must be part of the raw material for a Nascita, +and in my mind I identified certain figures in the museum which +Conte Pepoli was then arranging in the disused convent of the +Annunziata as remains of old examples of the Nascita and of the +Natività. Nothing would do for it then but I must +see a Nascita, and the difficulty was how to proceed. One +cannot very well go <!-- page 117--><a name="page117"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 117</span>round knocking at all the doors in a +Sicilian town and asking if they have made a Nascita; the +Avvocato Scalisi had gone off to another wedding or to defend a +mafioso, or to transact whatever business falls to the lot of a +Trapanese avvocato. Mario, my coachman, takes no interest +in anything to do with religion in any shape, so he was no use, +and everyone else I spoke to was very kind about it but evidently +did not know how to help me.</p> +<p>I considered what I should do if at Hastings or Grimsby or +Newlyn I wanted to get inside a fisherman’s cottage, and it +occurred to me that I should consult the parson. I knew a +priest at Trapani whose acquaintance I had made at Custonaci, but +I did not know where he was. I boldly stopped a couple of +strange priests in the street and asked if they knew my priest; +they did, and one of them took me to his house. It was +rather mean of me to call upon him merely to ask him to help me +to find a Nascita, I ought to have wanted to salute him and enjoy +his company; but he did not appear to think it rude, and we went +together to the old part of the town where the sailors live and +asked at a house where he knew they always used to make a +Nascita, but this year there was none. They told us of +another likely house, but again we were disappointed. We +tried several more without success, and at last I exclaimed:</p> +<p>“What a lack of faith!”</p> +<p>But my priest replied that that was not the explanation; it +was lack of money, because these things cannot be made for +nothing.</p> +<p>We could not then call at more houses because he was busy with +his own affairs; it was his dinner-time, or he had to go to a +wedding or a funeral or to do whatever it is that Trapanese +priests do in the afternoon, so we postponed our search till the +evening, when he returned with his brother, another priest, who +knew a family who had made a Nascita, and we went to their +house.</p> +<p>We were shown into a large room, at the end of which, on <!-- +page 118--><a name="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +118</span>a long table, was a sort of rabbit hutch or +doll’s house, all on one floor, about eighteen inches high, +with the front off showing that it was divided into eight square +compartments, so that the whole hutch was about twelve feet long, +the width of the room. These compartments were the rooms of +Joachim’s house or flat, as we should say, and the figures +in them were about eight inches high. In the arts actual +size counts for little and, as with the marionettes, I soon +accepted the dolls as representatives of men and women and felt +as though I were present at some such family festival as +Ignazio’s wedding, and the rooms, all leading one into the +other, contributed to the illusion.</p> +<p>We were asked to begin with the entrance. The front part +of it had been let to a cobbler who was sitting at his bench +mending a shoe, and if it had been real life he would have been +singing. Behind him was a garden of artificial flowers with +a fountain of real water that was not playing that evening. +A door led through the side wall into the second compartment, +which was a salone. The porter, in evening dress, was +introducing a married couple, also in evening dress, who had been +invited and were accompanied by their baby in the arms of the +wet-nurse. This compartment was divided by a partition with +an open door through which one saw an alcove, or back room, with +a buffet loaded with sweets, cakes, and ices, at which the guests +were to refresh themselves as they passed. At +Ignazio’s wedding footmen carried the refreshments about on +trays. A door in the side led to the third compartment, +where children were dancing to a toy piano with four real +notes. I struck one and it sounded. A lady doll was +playing, and I looked at her music, but the notes were too small +for my eyes, so I asked our hostess what music it was, and she +replied that it was a selection from the <i>Geisha</i>. I +remembered then that there had recently been in the town a +travelling opera company performing that work which is so popular +in Italy that one often hears <!-- page 119--><a +name="page119"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 119</span>the boys +whistling the airs in the streets. A surname is not of much +practical use in Sicily, and some of my friends have not mastered +mine, but by those who know it, and who also know that it is the +same as that of the composer of the <i>Geisha</i>, I have +sometimes been credited with the music of his opera, a compliment +which it distresses me to be compelled to decline. In the +alcove behind were musicians playing guitars. I did not +strike a note on a guitar, feeling sure that it would be out of +tune with the piano.</p> +<p>A door in the side wall led to the fourth room, where S. +Joachim was entertaining four kings who wore their crowns. +These kings have nothing to do with Gaspare, Melchiorre, and +Baldassare, who fall down and worship the infant Jesus, opening +their treasures and presenting unto him gifts, gold and +frankincense and myrrh, on the occasion of the +Natività. Those three were led from the East to the +manger at Bethlehem by the miraculous star; these in +Joachim’s room came in response to the usual cards of +invitation sent by the family, just as the relations and guests +came to Ignazio’s wedding. The Madonna had, I think +my priest told me, forty kings and sixty condottieri in her +pedigree. Invitations had been issued to all their +descendants, and no doubt all had accepted, but, owing to want of +means on the part of the artist who made this Nascita and want of +space in the rabbit hutch, only four kings could be shown. +It is not everyone who can entertain so many as four kings; there +were none at Ignazio’s wedding. In this room there +was also a monsignore with red buttons to his sottana, he had an +attendant who, my priest told me, was a seminarista. In the +alcove behind was Joachim’s bed, and the empty cup from +which he had drunk his morning black coffee stood on the table by +his bedside.</p> +<p>The door leading to the fifth room was partly concealed by a +notice with these words: “È Nata Maria,” and, +accordingly, here we found the new-born child in an elaborate +<!-- page 120--><a name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +120</span>cradle attended by three angels who were planted on the +floor in front of her, rather a Christmas-cardy group. Four +queens with crowns had come, no doubt they were the wives of +Joachim’s kings, and there was a Jewish priest whom I took +to be Simeon, he had a head-covering with horns such as Caiaphas +wears at Varallo. My priest, however, assured me that +Simeon was not a priest, he was only “un uomo +qualunque”; and he would have it that the figure +represented Melchizedek. This occasion must not be confused +with a subsequent one when the <i>Nunc Dimittis</i> was +improvised by Simeon, who, he said, could not have lived long +enough to be present on both occasions.</p> +<p>“Reverend Father,” I objected, “pardon me if +I give you an example which points in the other direction. +The best man or, as you would say, the compare at my +grandfather’s wedding not only lived to perform the +ceremony of marrying my father and mother, but lived long enough +also to marry my brother.”</p> +<p>The priest wavered, but was not convinced; he repeated that +this was Melchizedek and that he always appears at the birth of +the Madonna, and I was so much under the spell of the Nascita +that I could not remember precisely when Melchizedek lived. +Whoever this personage was, he had passed into this room from +Joachim’s room on the day of the Sacred Name of Maria, that +is on the Sunday after the birth, and he had officiated at the +baptism. On the floor was a bath of water with cinnamon, in +which the baby had been washed and with which the guests were to +cross themselves. S. Anna was in her bedroom in the alcove +behind, but not in bed, she got up and sat in a chair on the +ninth day after the birth.</p> +<p>Through the door in the side the guests were to pass to the +sixth room, where there were nuns engaged in household duties, +mending the linen, darning the stockings, and so on. One +was working a sewing-machine, and in the alcove behind was their +bedroom.</p> +<p><!-- page 121--><a name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +121</span>The side door led to the seventh room, where there was +another nun ironing and directing the servants who were making +quince marmalade and extract of pomidoro and discharging similar +autumnal duties; behind was the servants’ bedroom.</p> +<p>Lastly we came to the eighth room, which, like the front +entrance, filled the whole compartment and had no alcove. +This was the kitchen and dining-room in one. The hospitable +board was spread with such profusion that there was not room on +it for another egg-cup. Here Joachim was to entertain the +kings and queens to dinner later on. Three Turks and one +female servant were controlling affairs, making the cuscuso and +preparing the maccaroni. There were young chickens in a +corner; I inquired for their mother, and was told she was busy +making the soup; then I saw that a saucepan was simmering on the +stove. The walls were hung with brightly polished copper +cooking utensils and there were baskets of maccaroni on the +floor.</p> +<p>The three principal rooms were carpeted with tissue-paper +advertisements of a new bar in the Via Torrearsa which has lately +been opened by relations of our host. Each room was lighted +by a naked candle kept in place upon the floor by a drop of +wax. All the walls were hung with wall-papers, originally +designed for larger apartments, and adorned with pictures, among +which I observed Carlo Dolci’s <i>Ecce Homo</i>. The +Avvocato Scalisi saw, or says he saw, two saints flanking an +advertisement of cod-liver oil, and in Joachim’s room was a +portrait of Pope Pius X blessing the company which included +besides the kings a couple of officers in uniform. But then +the Avvocato Scalisi is a humorist, and the trouble with +humorists is that they are too fond of assuming all their readers +to be humorists also, whereas they sometimes have a reader of +another kind who is puzzled to know whether what they say is to +be taken seriously or not.</p> +<p>We were about to make our compliments preliminary to +departure, when our host produced a tray with marsala <!-- page +122--><a name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +122</span>and biscuits, so we sat down for a few minutes and I +observed what I took to be a little waxen paladin among the +wine-glasses. He was, however, no paladin, though he wore +armour and a helmet; he was S. Michele waiting to arrive on his +festa, the 29th September. It was now the 20th and, partly +to please me and partly because it did not much matter for a day +or two, he arrived at once. He had wings, but they wanted +repairing, so I carried him carefully from the tray and deposited +him in the corner of the room in which the baby lay.</p> +<p>My priest found several other examples of the Nascita and took +me to see them before I left Trapani. The differences were +slight; in one case there were only three rooms; in another the +rooms were divided so as to vary in size; in another the rooms +had windows at the back with balconies. Sometimes the +guests were reading the <i>Giornale di Sicilia</i>, and I saw +opera-glasses on the table in one room and in another the +gentlemen had deposited their tall hats on the sofa. There +were book-cases full of books and the bedrooms were furnished +down to the most insignificant but necessary details. S. +Joachim in one of the houses was entertaining only three friends, +and they had no kingly marks upon them; they were perhaps +descendants of the condottieri. I thought afterwards of +going back to inquire, but one cannot very well return to a house +where one has seen a Nascita and ask to be allowed to look again +to make sure whether or not the guests have hung up their crowns +on the hat pegs of the umbrella-stand at the front +entrance. There was something about these gentlemen, +something in their costume as they sat at a round table with S. +Joachim, a queer 1830 feeling that put me in mind of Mr. Pickwick +and his three friends sitting in their private room at the +“George and Vulture,” George Yard, Lombard Street, +except that they were only drinking coffee.</p> +<p>In the garden at the entrance to one house was a baby taking +the air in a perambulator and a band of eight <!-- page 123--><a +name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 123</span>musicians +with a conductor. There was real water with a tap and a +basin in the kitchen so that the guests might wash their hands +after dinner. There was a mouse-trap in the corner of the +kitchen. In one room the guests were playing cards, in +another eating ices, and I observed a toy piano with the extended +compass of six notes.</p> +<p>In all the kitchens there was a Turk for the cuscuso. It +is made with fish, semolina, and onions in a double saucepan +which in England is called a steamer. In the bottom part +water is boiled; in the top part, over the holes, they put a +layer of chopped onions, and over that the semolina which has +been previously made into very small balls by damping it. +The onions prevent the semolina from falling through the holes +into the water, and the steam of the water coming through cooks +the semolina and the onions. The fish are put into the +water at the right moment and are boiled while the semolina is +being steamed. It is all served together like +bouillabaisse, the semolina answering to the bread, and extract +of pomidoro is added. One would not be likely to meet with +cuscuso in the houses of the well-to-do; one might get it in the +albergo by insisting on it, but they would rather not provide it +because, like the Discobolus in Butler’s poem <i>A Psalm of +Montreal</i>, it is vulgar. I have eaten it only once when +I dined with my compare Michele Lombardo, a jeweller, to whose +son I stood as padrino at his cresima, and I do not care to eat +it again, not because it is vulgar, but because I did not find it +nearly so good as bouillabaisse. The recipe for it has +penetrated to Trapani from Africa as a result of the constant +intercourse between Sicily and the French colony of Tunis, the +fishermen of Trapani going over to the African coast not only for +fish, but also for coral and for sponges.</p> +<p>My priest was inclined to treat the Nascita with tolerant +contempt; he muttered the word “Anacronismo” several +times and, since I have ascertained that Melchizedek was a +contemporary of Abraham, I think he should not <!-- page 124--><a +name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 124</span>have done +so. I said that the anachronisms did not disturb me. +I told him that in the marionette theatre in Palermo, when +Cristoforo Colombo embarks from the port of Palos in Spain to +discover America, a sailor, sitting on the paddle-box of the +piroscafo, the steamboat, sings that Neapolitan song <i>Santa +Lucia</i>. I passed over the anticipation of steam and +contented myself with asking the buffo whether the song had been +composed so long ago and also whether its popularity had extended +from Naples into Spain. He replied that it had extended to +Palermo and that his audience connected it in their minds with +the sea, and as for the date of its composition he had made no +inquiries, but he knew it was older than “O Sole +Mio”; we do not go to the arts for accurate +archæological details.</p> +<p>“I will make you a paragon,” said the buffo. +“When I was returning from Catania I looked out of the side +windows of the train and saw that the telegraph posts, as we +passed by, were some distance apart. But I made friends +with the guard, who took me into his van, and when I looked at +them again out of the back window of the train they seemed to get +closer and closer together in the distance until, far away, there +appeared to be no space between them; but I knew that there was +always the same space between them. So it is with the +centuries, when they are in the distant past it is difficult to +distinguish in what century any particular event happened. +History may settle such points, but the arts come to us from a +country of the imagination whose laws of time and space are not +as our laws. Art is trying to get the people to realise +that a thing happened, not to teach them precisely +when.”</p> +<p>I quoted this to my priest, and he admitted its justice; also +he was so polite as to waive his objection about anacronismo, +which, I then saw, had only been started in consideration of my +being a professor; not that I am really a professor but he had +introduced me to our host as one, and I had accepted the +distinction so as to avoid the dreary explanation that would have +been forced upon me after <!-- page 125--><a +name="page125"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 125</span>a +disclaimer. He having waived his anacronismo so generously, +it was now my turn to trump up an objection which I could deal +with afterwards as circumstances might require. In making +my choice I did not forget his cloth and, imitating as well as I +could his tone of tolerant contempt, muttered the word +“Irriverenza” several times. He saw what I +meant at once and, in his reply, somewhat followed my lead.</p> +<p>“Where,” he asked, “is the irreverence in +making S. Joachim’s friends arrive in tall hats and dress +clothes? Why should they not read the <i>Giornale di +Sicilia</i> and play cards? Where is the irreverence in +making the children celebrate his daughter’s birth by +dancing to a piano? Why should not the Madonna have her +baby-linen made on an American sewing-machine?”</p> +<p>As he took this line so decidedly and we had given up the +anacronismo, I gave up the irreverence at once and agreed with +him that there is no reason against any of these things being +done if it helps the spectators. The arts are concerned +more with faith than with reason, more with the spirit than with +the flesh, more with truth than with fact, and we can never get +away from the intention of the artist. Even in that Art of +Arts which we call Life, our judgment must always be influenced +by the spirit in which we believe that a thing is done. I +have read somewhere that one coachman will flick flies off his +horse with the intention of worrying the flies, while another +(Mario, for instance) does the same thing with the intention of +relieving the horse. When a modern Frenchman in the spirit +of the <i>Scenes de la Vie de Boheme</i> paints the guests in +modern evening dress at a <i>Marriage in Cana of Galilee</i> we +are offended. The Nascita is not done by such an artist; it +is peculiarly a woman’s subject, being a picture of home +life with a birth for its occasion, and is usually made by a girl +who has never heard of Bohemia. She has seen trains in the +railway station and ships in the port, but probably has never +herself travelled in either. Her father or her brother <!-- +page 126--><a name="page126"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +126</span>has perhaps been fishing for sponges off Sfax and may +have returned with stories of the wonders of Tunis, and so she +may have heard of a boulevard, but she is not affected by +it. She makes her Nascita as the medieval painters made +their pictures, and is not seeking to attract attention or to +astonish or to advertise herself or to make money. +Sicilians are all artists, and the Nascita is the girl’s +pretext for making as close a representation as she can of the +life to which she and her friends are accustomed. It is for +her what the Shield of Achilles was for Homer, what the Falstaff +scenes in <i>King Henry IV</i> were for Shakespeare, or what the +Escape from Paris was for my buffo in Palermo.</p> +<h2><!-- page 129--><a name="page129"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 129</span>MOUNT ERYX</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER IX<br /> +THE COMPARE</h3> +<p>Michele Lombardo, a goldsmith of Trapani, came to me one day +and said he wished me to be his compare. I at once had a +vision of myself as a black man riding round a circus on a +bare-backed horse and jumping through hoops. That was +because, at the time, all my knowledge about a compare was +derived from a conversation I had had in the house of the Greco +family at Palermo. Among the photographs grouped on the +wall was one of a pleasant-looking nigger in European +costume. I asked who he was, and Carolina said he was an +African, a compare. I asked what she meant and she said +that her father had held the African’s niece at its +cresima. The African’s name was Emanuele, but she had +never known his family name. I asked whether he had a +profession and she replied:</p> +<p>“Faceva cavallerizza.”</p> +<p>I knew no more about cavallerizza than about a compare or a +cresima. She explained the first by saying that the horse +goes round and Emanuele on the horse’s back performs +gymnastics. That is, he used to do so, but he went to +Paris, where a duchess saw him performing and, on account of his +agility and his attractive physiognomy, fell in love with +him. She was an Egyptian duchess and wore diamonds because +she was rich. She was so rich she could do as she liked in +other respects besides diamonds, and, liking to marry Emanuele, +she did so and made him padrone of a grand hotel in Madrid or +Vienna, I forget which, but it was a hotel of the first class, +frequented by Russian princesses and American millionaires.</p> +<p>I told Michele about this and he assured me that his <!-- page +130--><a name="page130"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +130</span>proposal concealed no equestrian circus and no Egyptian +duchess; to become his compare I should only have to hold his +eldest son Pietro, aged seven, at his cresima. Here was an +opportunity of solving the mysteries of the cresima and the +compare, which Michele, who took my consent for granted, assured +me would solve themselves as we proceeded. We went to the +bishop’s palace and were shown into his private chapel, +where the sagrestano entertained us with conversation while we +waited. Only once before had he ever approached an +Englishman, and that was at Messina. He was a very rich +Englishman and a devout son of the Church; his card with his name +and address was still preserved as a ricordo in the +sagrestano’s house. This gentleman afterwards died in +Naples under dramatic circumstances. He had stepped out one +evening to take a mouthful of air, and on returning went upstairs +to his room; as he put his latch-key into the door he fell down +dead. By his will, which was found in the drawer of his +writing-table, he bequeathed all his great wealth to the church +of S. Antonio. I wanted to know whether this church is in +Messina, or Naples, or England; or, it might be in America or +Australia, for they sometimes speak of an Inglese Americano and +of an Inglese Australiano. Once I took some of my +superfluous luggage to a forwarding agent in Palermo to have it +sent to England by piccola velocità. It included a +figure of Buddha which I had bought in a curiosity-shop in +Malta. The clerk declined to forward the image because it +was a product of art, and such things may not be sent out of +Italy. I said it was a product of religion; he accepted my +correction and proposed to describe it in the form he was filling +up as a Madonna. Again I objected, pointing out that anyone +could see it was not a lady; it was Buddha. He was as +puzzled as I had been over the compare. I attempted a short +sketch from memory of Buddha’s life and works, and was so +far successful that the figure travelled to London as a Cristo +Indiano.</p> +<p>The arrival of the bishop cut short the sagrestano’s +<!-- page 131--><a name="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +131</span>reminiscences. There also came a woman with a +baby in arms who was to receive its cresima at once, in case it +might not live to reach Pietro’s discreet age of +seven. The bishop in magnificent vestments of brocade and +gold stood with his back to the altar; the woman with the baby +knelt before him to his right and the sagrestano put his hand on +the baby’s shoulder; Pietro knelt to the bishop’s +left and I put my hand on his shoulder. The ceremony, it +seems, is a partial repetition of the baptism, or a performance +of a part omitted from the baptism, or it is an addition to the +baptism—for I did not understand so fully as Michele said I +should. Unless accelerated, as in the case of the baby, it +takes place when the child is old enough to have mastered the +more elementary teaching of the Church but does not yet +understand enough to be confirmed; and it consists in the +bishop’s using a great many words and gestures and making +the sign of the Cross in oil on the child’s forehead. +Almost before the oil was on, the sagrestano wiped it off with +cotton-wool and the bishop, after cleaning his thumb with half a +lemon which the sagrestano had thoughtfully placed on the altar, +held out his ring to be kissed by the woman and by Pietro.</p> +<p>In this way I became compare of Michele Lombardo and padrino +of Pietro, who is my figlioccio. Being Michele’s +compare I am in a way related to all the family and, when I +arrive at Trapani, Michele brings as many of his children as he +can gather to salute me. Last time he brought five and +said:</p> +<p>“Excuse my not bringing more.”</p> +<p>In calling Emanuele her compare, Carolina Greco was not +speaking very strictly; the relationship exists between her +father and Emanuele’s brother, whose child he held; but +family relationships are so close in Sicily, and they speak so +loosely about them, that a compare of one member of a family may +be said to be compare of them all.</p> +<p>A compare is, however, primarily he who holds a child at its +baptism, and this, no doubt, is why S. Giovanni Battista <!-- +page 132--><a name="page132"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +132</span>is padrone of compari. Thus I am Compare di +Battesimo of Peppino and Brancaccia at Castellinaria. It +was the grandfather who actually held Ricuzzu at the baptism, but +he did it as my deputy, and the spiritual relationship of compare +which exists between Peppino and myself is closer than that of +padrino and figlioccio which exists between Ricuzzu and +myself.</p> +<p>The first step in establishing the relationship of Compare di +Battesimo is usually taken at the wedding of the parents, when he +who holds the cup or tazza containing the ring becomes Compare di +Anello of the bride and bridegroom and also receives the +privilege, or undertakes the obligation, of holding the first +baby at its baptism. At Ignazio’s wedding someone +held the tazza with the ring and handed it to the priest at the +right moment, but I did not see this done because between the +happy couple and myself the lady-guests interposed a forest of +hats, but I saw the tazza among the wedding presents and thought +it was an ash-tray till one of them corrected me. There +must have been a Compare di Anello also at the wedding of S. +Joachim and S. Anna, and this person, whoever he was, ought to +have appeared, and perhaps did appear, in the Nascita as padrino +of the Madonna at her baptism, but I did not visit a Nascita on +the Day of the Sacred Name of Maria, so I did not see the +baptism.</p> +<p>A fourth kind of compare is the Compare di Parentela; the name +is used for those relationships by marriage which have no special +name. The brother-in-law, for instance, though he may be a +compare is not necessarily one, he is a cognato; but the parents +of a husband and the parents of his wife are compari to one +another, and the husband’s cugino, or cousin, is compare of +the wife and so on.</p> +<p>There is yet a fifth kind—the Compare di San +Giovanni. The first time I saw Turiddu Balistrieri after +his escape from the earthquake at Messina (see Chapter XVII post) +it seemed an occasion proper to be solemnised in some way, and we +determined to become compari to one another, but <!-- page +133--><a name="page133"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 133</span>as +there was no wedding and no baptism or cresima we did not know +how to proceed. We consulted an expert in Catania, Peppino +Fazio, who said it was an exceptional case. This did not +alarm us because exceptional cases are treated tenderly in +Sicily. Our expert took time to consider and in a day or +two gave his opinion:—The relationship could be established +by our going into the country on the 24th June, the day of S. +Giovanni, and exchanging cucumbers or pots of basil. +Nothing could be simpler, and accordingly on the 24th of June, +1910, Turiddu and I went into the country. He was in +Catania, so he spent the day on the slopes of Etna. I was +staying with friends at Bath, so I went for a walk on +Lansdown. In choosing our tokens we had regard to the +arrangements of the postal union; he sent me a few dried leaves +of basil and an elaborate drawing of an emerald-green plant in a +gamboge pot tied round with a vermilion ribbon as a sign of +goodwill and friendship. He drew the design out of his own +imagination and coloured it with paints which we had bought +together in Naples. I might have sent him a volume of Keats +containing a <i>Pot of Basil</i> in an equally transmissible +form, but as he does not read English he would not have +understood; so I sent him a young cucumber about three inches +long. The ceremony was complete, and we are as good a pair +of compari as any in the island.</p> +<p>Thus there are five kinds of compari, namely:—</p> +<p>1. The Compare di Battesimo.</p> +<p>2. The Compare di Cresima.</p> +<p>3. The Compare di Anello.</p> +<p>4. The Compare di Parentela.</p> +<p>5. The Compare di San Giovanni.</p> +<p>It may be said that there are more kinds; the woman who washes +the cap in which a baby is baptised becomes comare, but I do not +know whether this is so anywhere but in Catania. And the +word is sometimes used in a figurative sense as a term of +endearment in addressing a partner or any <!-- page 134--><a +name="page134"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 134</span>intimate +friend, and sometimes with the intention of inspiring confidence +in addressing a stranger in a lower station of life. When +two plump gentlemen and one thin one entered the yard of the +“White Hart” where Mr. Samuel Weller happened to be +burnishing a pair of painted tops, the thin gentleman +advanced.</p> +<p>“My friend,” said the thin gentleman.</p> +<p>“You’re one o’ the adwice gratis +order,” thought Sam, “or you wouldn’t be so +wery fond of me all at once.” But he only said, +“Well, Sir.”</p> +<p>A Sicilian Mr. Perker might have said, “Compare” +instead of “Amico,” and one is expected to believe +that no unworthy suspicion would have crossed the mind of a +Sicilian Sam Weller.</p> +<p>Between compari there is such complete trust and devotion that +no request is ever refused; there is also the conviction, based +first on intuition and afterwards on experience, that no request +which ought to be refused will ever be made—a conviction +which is, I suppose, an element in all friendship. A +compare is received in the house as a member of the family and is +looked upon as a relation closer than a brother. One can +choose as compare a friend in whom one has confidence, whereas +there is no choosing a brother, and cases have been known in +which brothers did not agree. But any compare taking +advantage of his position would be a contemptible traitor and +among the sulphur-miners would provide material for a play at the +Teatro Machiavelli. Talking it over with Peppino Pampalone +he told me that sometimes things do go wrong, so that they say +there are three relations more dangerous than enemies—the +cognato (the brother-in-law) the cugino (the cousin), and the +compare. And they say:</p> +<blockquote><p>Dagli amici mi guardi Iddio<br /> +Chè dai nemici mi guardo io.</p> +<p>May God protect me from my friends<br /> +For I can protect myself from my enemies.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><!-- page 135--><a name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +135</span>Peppino says: “If it is the man that would robber +you in the street, this man would put his life in danger because +every movement of this man you are looking. But if it is a +friend then is it other; then you are depending in him that he is +coming to salvare you, you are embracing him, kissing him, +don’t be regarding the revolver that shall be in his pocket +and sometimes would kill you. If it would not be Bruto, he +would not succeed to take the life of Cesare. Did you +understand?”</p> +<p>But these are exceptional cases.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER X<br /> +COMPARE BERTO</h3> +<p>In 1901 I spent ten days on Mount Eryx, now usually called +Monte San Giuliano, near Trapani, where I went to see the +nocturnal procession of <i>Noah’s Ark and the Universal +Deluge</i> (<i>Diversions in Sicily</i>, Chapter X). During +those days I made the acquaintance of about twenty young men of +whom Alberto Augugliaro, the son of the professor of mathematics +in the Ginnasio, was the chief. I have seen him nearly +every year since, first as a student at Trapani, then at the +University of Palermo, and again when he was at home on the +Mountain for the holidays, in villeggiatura, or doing the +practical work for his diploma in the chemist’s shop of his +uncle. When he became qualified, his uncle handed the shop +over to him and he is now established in it.</p> +<p>One starry September evening in 1909 we were walking together +in the balio (the garden on the top of the Mountain), and I asked +whether, as he was now over thirty, it was not time for him to +think of getting married. He confessed that negotiations +were in progress. I inquired the lady’s name, and he +came close to me, took my arm and whispered a word in my +ear. If he had shouted the <!-- page 136--><a +name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 136</span>word it +would have reached no other ear but mine. We were alone +upon the Mountain; the Ericini were sleeping within their walls +of stone; over their tiled and terraced roofs the stars were +pacing through the night; in front of us and to our right and +left, far below, encircled by its mountainous amphitheatre, the +spacious plain was cooling after the heat of yesterday; behind +us, the sea was drowsily patting the shore round the foot of +Monte Cofano and along by happy Bonagia, swaying idly in and out +of the harbours of Trapani and among the islands—Levanzo, +Favognana, and distant Marettimo. Berto need not have +whispered the word; but it was a secret—it was the name of +his lady.</p> +<p>Soon after Christmas he announced in the most open manner, +that is to say on a post-card, that the preliminaries were over +and that his engagement to Giuseppina had been made public; I +sent congratulations to them both and he replied in a letter +which, omitting the formalities, runs thus in English:</p> +<blockquote><p>I, on my part, and Giuseppina, on hers, are +extremely contented because we both love you with that love which +is strong and powerful enough to raise the heart and to transport +us above the breathable air; and, as our thoughts frequently fly +to you, our distant English friend, we make you a proposition, +but you will understand that we lay no obligation upon you and we +do not ask you to take any trouble. Here it is in two +words: It is our most vivid desire that you should become our +compare: that is, that you should hold the tazza containing the +ring at our wedding. I repeat, it is our most vivid desire +that you will accede to our request for this honour and we shall +be most grateful to you if you will content us. It is for +you to send your answer which we await with anxiety.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Now, I cannot be more dear to Berto than he is to me—I +am not sure about the breathable air, but he is one of the best +fellows I know—so I wrote saying I was more flattered, +honoured, and pleased by his request than I could express <!-- +page 137--><a name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +137</span>in words. Moreover, it fell out very conveniently +because the ceremony was to take place in the following April at +a time when I intended to be in Sicily. Then came the +difficulty about the wedding present, and whether there was any +special duty for a compare to perform besides holding the +ring. I remembered Ignazio’s ash-tray and asked +whether perhaps I ought to bring something of the kind from +London. Berto replied that the tazza is a sacred object +belonging to the church and is lent for the ceremony and, as I +did not seem to know much about it, he kindly informed me that +the customs of his country on the occasion of a wedding are as +follows:</p> +<blockquote><p>The father and the mother of the bridegroom and +the father and the mother of the bride invite the relations and +friends, who all offer presents of greater or less value +according to the degree of relationship and friendship. The +ring is chosen by the bridegroom in consultation with the +bride. The compare, of his own accord, offers a present to +the couple, more usually he offers it only to the bride.</p> +<p>All this I have told you merely as information with regard to +the customs of my country; it is not necessary for you to give +any present but, if you wish to do so, do as you wish. +Wedding presents are lifelong records of relationship and of +friendship.</p> +<p>If I am to speak frankly, loyally and sincerely to you as the +friend I have always been to you, I recommend you to bring some +present for the bride because, as you who have travelled so much +must know, in small places not to receive a present from the +compare would be to provoke the remark among all who talk that +the bride and bridegroom were not complimented by the +compare. I tell you this because you are my dearest friend +and not because I wish to be critical. Bring anything you +choose and be sure that whatever may be offered by you will be +accepted by my bride. For me—nothing. I have +sufficient in the thought and the comfort of your friendship.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>So I consulted my sister, who recommended me to visit a +jeweller’s shop. There is one in Regent Street where +I <!-- page 138--><a name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +138</span>take my sleeve-links to be repaired when I have the +misfortune to break them. She approved and I went and +explained the situation to the young man, who was very kind about +it and, after a few false starts, cordially advised one of a line +of gold pendants much in vogue to be worn with a light +chain. He had an apparently inexhaustible stock, and I +became as confused and helpless as when some change is necessary +in my spectacles and the oculist wants to know whether I see +better with this or with that. I have no idea how long I +was there, but in the end I selected a meaningless object of a +design which the young man assured me was original and exclusive, +and which I hoped would appear fairly unobjectionable to the +recipient. After which, not being at all content to leave +Berto resting solely on the thought and comfort of my friendship, +I chose for him a dozen silver teaspoons. My sister, to +whom I showed these articles, approved and, of her own unprompted +generosity, added a piece of Irish lace as a special gift from +herself to the bride, though she is unacquainted with any of the +family except from my description. Thus loaded I travelled +to Trapani and went up the Mountain in the public automobile, +arriving on a Thursday morning early in April, 1910, the wedding +being fixed for the following Saturday.</p> +<p>Berto met me at the Trapani gate of the town and took me to +the Albergo Sicilia, where I had stayed when I was on the +Mountain in 1901. Signor Bosco has died since, and his +widow keeps on the inn with the help of some members of her +family of six daughters and four sons. One of these sons is +Peppi, a blacksmith, who plays a trombone in the municipal +band. Another is Alberto, one of the chauffeurs who drive +the automobile up and down the Mountain. Alberto and one of +his sisters appeared as children in the procession of the +<i>Universal Deluge</i>. They were sitting at the feet of +Sin and holding one another’s hands to represent the wicked +population destined to destruction. Alberto is now +married. His wedding took place in the morning, and at +three o’clock in the afternoon three hundred guests <!-- +page 139--><a name="page139"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +139</span>were entertained at dinner in the Albergo Sicilia, +after which they danced till dawn and, as the wedding was in +December, they must have been rather tired; but it was an +exceptional case.</p> +<p>In the afternoon Berto came for me and took me to the house of +his bride to pay my respects. The house belongs to her; she +has two brothers and a sister all married and settled, and on +Berto’s marriage he will leave the house of his parents and +go and live in his wife’s house. We entered through a +door that led through a high blank wall into a courtyard where +there were flowering plants in pots, and steps leading up to the +living-rooms on the first floor over a basement which is used +partly as stabling and partly as storage. This is the form +of most of the houses on the Mountain, and the blank wall and +courtyard give them an air of seclusion. We went up the +steps and were received by the bride and many of her relations, +some of whom I had already met, for Giuseppina is a cousin of +Berto’s mother. They showed me over the house; the +rooms all led into one another and, though they were not in a +row, it was rather like going over S. Joachim’s house when +it is being prepared for the family festa of the Nascita. +It would have been still more like it if we had come in by the +other front door, for the side we entered is on a street that +goes up-hill and the house is at a corner with another front door +in the other street at the top of the hill and level with the +living-rooms. This other front door leads straight into a +hall, which will be occupied by the musicians on the evening of +the wedding, from this one passes to the dining-room where the +servants are to dance, then to the salone where the guests are to +dance.</p> +<p>We sat in the salone, about twenty of us in a circle, talking +the usual talk, and one of the young ladies asked me whether we +had compari at an English wedding. I said we had something +of the kind. She inquired what I should be called if I were +compare at an English wedding, and, seeing no way out of it, I +modestly murmured:</p> +<p><!-- page 140--><a name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +140</span>“In England I should be called the Best +Man.”</p> +<p>This naturally led to a torrent of compliments, which I +battled with for some moments, and finally subdued by asking to +see the rest of the house. We went to the room which had +been arranged as the buffet; the walls were adorned with large +looking-glasses, and in the middle was a table for the cakes and +sweets. The buffet is to be my bedroom next time I come to +the Mountain. We passed through two other saloni and then +inspected two bedrooms, one for the happy couple, the other for +Berto’s mother, who is to stay with them for the first few +days. The presents were arranged on a table by the side of +the nuptial couch, which had arrived that morning from Palermo +together with the rest of the bedroom suite, very handsome, and +made of Hungarian ash. The presents were rather as I have +seen wedding presents in England, plenty of spoons and forks, +gold brooches, rings, bracelets, some set with diamonds and some +with other stones, and I was glad I was not really back in Regent +Street choosing my pendant.</p> +<p>We went into the courtyard and into the stable where we saw +Mille-lire the donkey, who is scarcely bigger than a Saint +Bernard dog and only cost thirty-five lire. It was Berto +who gave him the name of Mille-lire to signify that his value far +exceeds his price. He has a cart to match and can take four +people, but I think they must be rather small people. He +shares his stable with thirty-eight chickens, old and young, and +two ducks, who all come out into the courtyard to be fed in the +sun. There are also three pigeons, making a total of +forty-four creatures. In addition there are two cats who +live in the house and two tortoises who live in the +courtyard. Tortoises are found wild among the rocks in the +mountains and the peasants bring them up to the town and sell +them. These came from Monte Aspáracio, which is near +Cofano; they cost forty centimes each, and bring good luck to the +house. On Mount Eryx there is a convent of nuns of S. +Teresa, to <!-- page 141--><a name="page141"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 141</span>whom flesh is forbidden, but the +prohibition does not extend to tortoises, which the nuns eat with +tomato sauce. When the nuns begin to feel the infirmities +of age they are no longer limited to this strange meat, the +prohibition is withdrawn, and they live like other old ladies, +eating what they choose. I have no idea how many fourpenny +tortoises would make a meal for a healthy young nun on Monte San +Giuliano, where one’s appetite is sharpened by the +air. They occasionally add a few snails, which are also +permitted; there is a kind of snail which is found underground +and is considered a luxury by others besides the nuns of S. +Teresa.</p> +<p>After the stable and the courtyard we went to the terrace +whence, over the roofs and cupolas and among the towers and +belfries of the town, there is a view of the sea and the +plain. Then we visited the kitchen and saw the oven for +baking the bread. All the well-to-do families on the +Mountain possess land on the campagna where they grow their own +corn; they take it to the mill to be weighed and ground, and +fetch back the flour which is also weighed; they know that if +they leave a hundred kilograms of grain they must receive +ninety-nine of flour, and in this wasted kilogram of flour lurks +the true reason why the miller wears a white hat. They bake +their own bread and sometimes make their own maccaroni at +home. They grow their own grapes and make their own +wine. They have olive trees for oil, and goats whose milk +they drink, considering it lighter and more digestible than +cows’ milk. Berto’s sister has a private goat +of her own, who lives down in the country and comes up every +morning, a journey of three-quarters of an hour, and she milks it +herself. Thus they pass their lives very close to Mother +Earth, and the seasons sensibly affect their comfort. They +have little use for money except to buy coffee, fish, sugar, +meat, and clothes, or the stuff of which they make their clothes, +and some of them raise their own linen and wool. But they +want money when there is a family festa; Berto <!-- page 142--><a +name="page142"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 142</span>told me he +had spent 700 lire merely for the sweetmeats and cakes at his +wedding.</p> +<p>All Friday and most of Saturday I spent in being presented to +various members of the family and in making preparations. +Berto recommended me to visit the barber on Saturday afternoon +and, as a good Sicilian, I followed his advice and went to the +salone of Peppino. When Samuel Butler first came to Mount +Eryx in 1892 to see whether he could identify the localities with +those described as Scheria and Ithaca in the <i>Odyssey</i>, he +slipped in the street and put his ankle out of joint. The +doctor was away, and his foot was set by Peppino, who is a +barber-surgeon with a salone close to the spot where the accident +happened. Accordingly Peppino is the barber I employ when I +am on the Mountain. While he was attending to me I observed +a change in the salone, and, on asking where the looking-glasses +were, was told they had been lent to Berto to ornament the buffet +of his wedding festa.</p> +<p>After the barber, I had my dinner, as I found there would be +no opportunity to do so when once the wedding ceremonies had +begun, and then I dressed. In the meantime a cloud began to +collect on the Mountain and the wind began to blow.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XI<br /> +BERTO’S WEDDING</h3> +<p>A Sicilian wedding is conducted either on system <i>a</i>, +when the happy couple go away for their honeymoon and the +ceremony is performed in the morning, or on system <i>b</i>, when +they do not go away but have a ball at home, and then the +ceremony is performed in the evening. The wedding of +Ignazio proceeded on system <i>a</i>, that of Berto and +Giuseppina on system <i>b</i>. As for Alberto Bosco, his +wedding was either a combination of <i>a</i> and <i>b</i> or an +exceptional case.</p> +<p><!-- page 143--><a name="page143"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +143</span>Berto’s brother Nicolào came to fetch me +at 5.30 p.m. and took me to the house of the bride’s +brother in the piazza, where the bride was waiting. Her +dress was of pale grey crèpe trimmed with dull silver +embroidery and she wore zagara in her bonnet. Exceptional +cases being excepted, it may be said that brides only wear white +silk and a veil and wreath of orange blossom, as Ignazio’s +bride did at the religious ceremony, when the wedding is +conducted on system <i>a</i>. I failed to discover any rule +about a cortège of bridesmaids, if there is such a rule it +is probably elastic. The other ladies wore dresses as for a +dance in England in the country in the winter. The +gentlemen, like the guests at the Nascita, wore evening +dress. And of course we all had cloaks or over-coats.</p> +<p>When we were about to leave the house, Peppi Bosco, with his +trombone and the rest of the municipal band, began to play, and +to the strains of their music we crossed the piazza in the +fog. The bride was conducted by her brother, the bridegroom +came next escorting a lady cousin, I followed, as compare, with +Berto’s mother, and the others came after. We entered +the municipio and went upstairs into a large room. The +sindaco sat behind a table, the bride and bridegroom sat facing +one another in two armchairs on the opposite side of the table +and we ranged ourselves about the room.</p> +<p>The sindaco had often before sat at that table and received +other wedding parties, nevertheless he appeared at a loss, or +perhaps he disapproved of matrimony. At any rate he was not +going to acquiesce in the proceedings until he had dwelt, as +elderly people will, on the serious nature of the duties the +young people were proposing to undertake. He went so far as +to put clearly before them aspects of the case which they might +have overlooked and to read them legal extracts of a discouraging +nature. They were unmoved, and the sindaco, still +dissatisfied, asked Berto point-blank whether he really wished, +under the circumstances, to take Giuseppina to be his wife. +Berto replied in <!-- page 144--><a name="page144"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 144</span>the affirmative. Concealing +his surprise, the sindaco turned to Giuseppina and asked her +whether she wished to be married to Berto. She said she +did; and indeed it was the reason why we were all there, as the +sindaco must have known if he had given the matter a thought, for +the wedding had been the talk of the town since Christmas; but +the law does not regard hearsay evidence. Finding there was +no help for it, he pronounced the necessary words and, no doubt +with a view of disclaiming personal responsibility should he +hereafter be taxed with marriage-mongering, invited them to sign +the book with a pen made entirely of gold in the form of a +feather, which he afterwards offered them as a wedding present +with his best wishes and a paper on which his clerk had neatly +engrossed the legal extracts.</p> +<p>We descended into the piazza now vacated by Peppi Bosco, who +had been playing in it with his municipal music during the +ceremony, and, forming ourselves into a procession as before, +walked down the principal street of the town, and I was thinking +of many things. As we passed the club I remembered how once +in the winter Berto had taken me there and introduced me to all +the notabilities of the place and I had wondered how the fog +agreed with the billiard table. We passed the farmacia +where Berto spends his time making up prescriptions and gossiping +with his friends. We went on down the street and my +thoughts wandered to other subjects. In the first place +there was my hat, or rather Berto’s uncle’s hat, for, +though I had remembered about the guests at the Nascita wearing +evening clothes, I had forgotten that they brought their +cylindrical hats, and Berto had borrowed one for me, which was so +small I had to hold it on. And the wind blew and roared and +shook the shutters and banged the windows and doors and smashed +the glass down on to the roughly paved streets, and the dense, +chilly cloud went through the cracks and penetrated into every +house and damped the beds and discoloured the whitewash of the +walls. And I <!-- page 145--><a name="page145"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 145</span>had Berto’s mother on one arm +and could not keep his uncle’s hat on my head. At +last I took it off and carried it under my other arm, putting on +my head a cap which I happened to have in my pocket.</p> +<p>We came to the steep part of the street near the salone of +Peppino and I thought of his looking-glasses that were +temporarily adorning the future bedroom of Berto’s compare, +and I thought of Butler’s accident and of the authoress of +the <i>Odyssey</i> writing her poem up here three thousand years +ago. And what are three thousand years to Time in his +flight? An interval that he can clear with a flap or two of +his mighty wings. No one knows how often he has flapped +them since these narrow roughly paved streets began to give the +town its irregular shape; no one knows anything of the +prehistoric incarnations of her who has reigned here as +Phœnician Astarte, as Greek Aphrodite, as Roman Venus, and +who now reigns here as Italian Maria. We were adding one +more to the processions that during unnumbered ages have passed +along the streets of Mount Eryx worshipping the Mystery of +Birth.</p> +<p>We turned down by the Palazzo Platamone and at last reached +the Matrice. The floor was hidden by the people standing on +it and the ceiling by thousands of wax candles hanging from +it. The organ was playing antiphonally with Peppi Bosco, +who had preceded us with his trombone and his municipal +music. We went into the sagrestia and I did not at first +recognise the Arciprete Messina who received us, for I had not +previously seen him in his vestments, but he knew me. We +had met in the street when he was wearing his ordinary clothes +the day before and I had told him I had his photograph taken by +Butler, who wanted his face because it is particularly round, +like that of so many of the Ericini, and Butler used to say they +are descended from the Cyclopes who formerly lived +here—Cyclopes means circle-faced, not one-eyed.</p> +<p>After signing the register we left the sagrestia, pushed our +way through the people, and stood outside the <!-- page 146--><a +name="page146"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 146</span>altar-rails +in a circle, the arciprete, Berto, Giuseppina, myself and another +priest. I held an old silver tazza, on which the ring was +placed. The music was tremendous and had to be made to play +piano. The arciprete read the words and, at the proper +moment, I handed the tazza, from which he took the ring and gave +it to the bridegroom, who placed it upon the bride’s +finger. And the Madonna di Custonaci sat over the altar +with the Child at her breast smiling down upon our little circle +and giving her blessing to Berto and Giuseppina who, with the +sanction of their relations and friends, were taking the first +step on the path that leads to motherhood.</p> +<p>We were not in the church ten minutes, and the music became +forte again as our procession passed out into the fog. We +went to the bride’s house and entered by the door that +leads into the courtyard which was occupied by Peppi Bosco, who +had again preceded us with his trombone and municipal +music. The bride retired and, after a few moments, +reappeared among the guests, escorted by Berto and accompanied by +someone bearing a large tea-tray piled up with sugared almonds, +which she ladled to us in handfuls with a silver +coffee-cup. On whatever system a Sicilian wedding is +conducted it would be incomplete without sugared almonds, and +they are sent in boxes to all friends who are unable to +attend. Several boxes were given to me for my near +relations who, by virtue of my having become compare of Berto and +Giuseppina, are now in a manner related to them. And the +bride also gave me for my sister a special gift of a handkerchief +embroidered by someone in the neighbourhood.</p> +<p>After the almonds, the music began in the front hall and we +danced. There were waltzes, polkas and contraddanze, also +games involving dances. I did not try to dance the waltzes +or the polkas, they were quite different from those I used to be +taught; Berto said they were dancing the ballo figurato. +Nor did I dance the tarantella, which I never was taught in any +form, but I saw it danced by <!-- page 147--><a +name="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +147</span>Berto’s mother and a brother of the bride. +I danced in three contraddanze, first with Berto’s mother, +then with his bride, then with his sister. One of the +dancers called out in French what we were to do, and the mistakes +we made added to the amusement. Frequently there was a +promenade, the partners walking arm-in-arm round the room, which +gave time to recover ourselves when we had got into any great +confusion. Sometimes he who directs the contraddanza is so +fertile in invention that he can make it last two hours. I +do not think any that I danced lasted above half an hour, and +they always ended by our promenading away to the buffet, which +was under the joyous direction of Berto’s father. +Here we ate sweetmeats and cakes and drank rosolio, which is any +kind of light liqueur.</p> +<p>Berto’s brother Nicolào took me away at 3 a.m., +and I wanted someone to show me the road because the cloud was +still on the Mountain, and they do not keep the streets lighted +all night. But the rest danced for another hour and then +departed, leaving Berto’s mother to attend to the bride and +to stay in the house.</p> +<p>Next day at noon we all called to inquire and I remained to +dinner at two. While we were at table we heard the drum +beating a Saracen rhythm and went to the window. It was the +festa of S. Francesco da Paola; he was coming out of his church +and going up to the balio on the top of the Mountain. The +fog had cleared away, leaving a few light clouds whose shadows +chased one another across the campagna and out to sea, where they +played with the islands that were swimming in it, each separate +and distinct in the brightness like those on a China plate. +S. Francesco turned his back to the islands; he had not come out +to bless the sea. Nor had he come to bless Cofano; he knew +it was beyond his power to make that rocky wilderness to blossom +as a rose. The translucent mountains stood back in a rugged +amphitheatre before him, reverently saluting the throne of Venus; +he acknowledged their salute, but he did not bless the barren +mountains; he <!-- page 148--><a name="page148"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 148</span>remembered the words of his Master: +To him that hath shall be given, and from him that hath not shall +be taken away even that which he seemeth to have.</p> +<p>Good old San Cicciu da Paola turned his eyes away from the +mountains and looked down upon the exuberance of the +campagna. Every patch was a mother’s breast suckling +the young bread and wine and oil, making the little figs to swell +on their branches and the big blobby oranges to grow bigger and +blobbier among their leaves. The salad was pushing, pushing +up through the soil; peaches, apples, pears, medlars and plums +were forming inside their faint pink and snowy blooms; there were +almonds and blossoming pomegranates, asparagus and tomatoes, +artichokes in disorderly tufts and beans combed into tidy +rows. In the hollow places, like marshy pools reflecting +the sky, lay beds of pale blue flax to be woven into wedding +sheets for Mount Eryx.</p> +<p>San Cicciu looked upon it and saw that it was good, and he +blessed all that fertility. He was doing for the campagna +what the Cyclopean arciprete had asked the Madonna to do for +Berto and Giuseppina.</p> +<h2><!-- page 151--><a name="page151"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 151</span>TRABONELLA</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER XII<br /> +SULPHUR</h3> +<p>Caltanissetta is a busy town of some 45,000 inhabitants near +the middle of the island and about 2000 feet above the sea. +It depends for its prosperity on almonds, grapes, olives and +sulphur, especially the last, for there is much sulphur in the +pores of the rock. I have several friends there of whom +one, Beppe (Giuseppe) Catena, is an engineer with an interest in +Trabonella, the largest sulphur mine in the neighbourhood, and +another, Gigino (Luigi) Cordova, is an advocate. Sometimes +Beppe is in the town and sometimes Gigino and I go to Trabonella +and find him there. It is an hour’s drive along a +road that winds among rolling hills. Through the +depressions between the near hills other hills appear, and +through their depressions higher hills, and beyond these are +higher hills again until the view is bounded by the Monti delle +Madonie where the snow lingers until May. It must have been +some such country as this that was in the mind of him who first +spoke of the sea running mountains high.</p> +<p>I do not know whether it is more beautiful in spring or in +autumn. I know that in spring the grass under the orange +trees is spotted with purple flowers, and that crimson vetch +incarnadines the hills, as though Lady Macbeth had dipped her +little hand into their multitudinous green; the hedges bloom with +rosemary and scarlet geranium, the banks with sweet pea and +brilliant mesembryanthemum, and the rough places are full of +asphodel; there are a few eucalyptus trees and now and then a +solemn row of cypresses; we may pass a hut of grey thatch and +perhaps a few horses or a sprinkling of tethered goats; sometimes +we see a herd of bullocks tended by a boy who <!-- page 152--><a +name="page152"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 152</span>has come +out this morning in black sheep-skin leggings up to his hips, and +I think he learnt his song from happy nightingales that set the +April moonlight to music.</p> +<p>But in autumn the prospect is as fair. The harvest is +over; the earth, bronzed by the summer heat, is resting after her +labour and nature is making variations in the ochres and umbers +that in spring were half hidden, huddled together in the steep +places where nothing will flourish; the stubble shows in lines of +pale yellow on the brown earth among patches of almost colourless +green and other patches black with burning which change the value +of the olives, pistachios, carubas and aloes; here and there is a +shrivelled thistle, here and there a lone pine; sometimes we see +a string of mules winding in and out on its way home, losing and +finding itself among the undulations like a little fleet of +fishing boats that rise and fall with the swell, and I think +Schubert must have passed this way when he felt stirring within +him the mellow loveliness of the second Entr’acte to +<i>Rosamunde</i>:</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/music2.jpg"> +<img alt="Rosamunde" src="images/music2.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p><!-- page 153--><a name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +153</span>We need not choose one or the other, we need only wait +to have both; for spring is the modulation to the dominant, the +awakening, the going out in search of adventure, while autumn is +the return to the tonic, the coming home in search of repose, the +falling asleep; the first leads to the second as naturally as +youth leads to age.</p> +<p>Last time Gigino and I went to Trabonella it was spring, and +we took with us his young brother Michelino, aged thirteen, who +had never been there before. We arrived in the afternoon +and found Beppe, who took us round, and we showed Michelino the +works. Empty trucks were gliding down a sloping railway +into the mine, while others were gliding up filled with the +harvest of the deep. We saw the broken pieces of rock being +put into great furnaces and we watched the treacly sulphur that +was melted out of the pores and came oozing through a tap into a +mould. It is then purified and made into shapes like +candles, and I thought of Kentish giants handling such bars of +sulphur to fumigate the hops in the glow of an oast-house +fire. We introduced Michelino to the overseers, directors +and managers and to the doctor. We returned to the hut +where Beppe lives, and dined out of doors in the yard +behind. It all seemed to me very healthy and like the +accounts one reads and the illustrations one sees of life in a +new country, with the advantage that Caltanissetta is only about +eight kilometres away. But Beppe objected that the nearness +of Caltanissetta was no advantage because it induces a feeling of +“Well, it doesn’t matter; I can always go to town for +that,” and so they put up with much that they might remedy +if they were really beyond the reach of civilisation. +Consequently he was not able to treat us as we deserved. We +replied that we were glad it was so, because he was treating us +much better.</p> +<p>After dinner we joined the other managers and directors in a +room of a larger building; a mandoline and guitar were brought +and some of them played. Presently Michelino sang. He +surprised me by the beauty and power of his young voice and by +his management of it, also by his <!-- page 154--><a +name="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 154</span>musical +intelligence and by his complete self-possession. He sang +the tenor songs of many operas and other popular melodies, +especially I remember his singing the <i>Stornelli +Montagnoli</i>, which is so beautiful that the buffo said it +would save itself in the Escape from Paris. To all this the +guitar-player vamped an accompaniment which Michelino +relentlessly silenced by a gesture when it became +unbearable. It was absurd to see him lording it over the +company, nearly a dozen of us and the youngest nearly old enough +to be his father. When it was time to retire, beds were +found for the visitors and I passed a comfortable night in +Beppe’s hut.</p> +<p>Next day we were taken into the mine to see what goes on +underneath the freedom of the rolling hills. We dived down +in a lift, ever so deep into the darkness, and probably it was +dangerous, but when I go down lifts and see over mines, as when I +wander among the tottering ruins of Messina, I have learnt to +hope that the accident will be some other day. We saw +nearly naked men, monsters of the abyss, crouching in cavernous +places, pick-axing the sulphurous rock in the dim light of their +miner’s lamps, while others were bringing broken pieces +along the low, dark galleries and sending them up in the trucks +to the light. And the workers were groaning and moaning as +they worked. Day after day, always the same monotonous +groaning and moaning, always the same monotonous pick-axing the +rock in the dim light, always the same monotonous sending up the +broken pieces. It was very hot in some places and very cold +in others, and I was glad to follow the broken pieces up and +return to the fresh air and the sunshine.</p> +<p>Beppe told me that Trabonella is the largest sulphur mine in +Europe, that the total length of its galleries is thirty +kilometres, which is about as far as from the Albert Hall to +Windsor Castle. They employ a thousand miners, and the boys +begin work outside the mine at twelve and inside at +fifteen. There has been an alteration in the law; formerly +<!-- page 155--><a name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +155</span>they began younger and were deprived of the little +education for which they now have time, and the hard work so +deformed their tender bodies that they could not pass the army +test. This is their modulation to the dominant, their +awakening to life. It is not a pleasing prospect; nor is +the early autumn of ill-health and decrepitude to which it +naturally leads any more pleasing. They pass their lives in +the dark, morally and physically, and frequently a sudden fall of +rock cripples, if it does not destroy, the victim; then there are +broken pieces of a different kind to be taken along the low dark +galleries and brought up to the light.</p> +<p>I was in Caltanissetta one Saturday evening and saw the +funeral of two who had been killed in this way that +morning. First came a band playing a funeral march, that +was all the more melancholy because the instruments were +distressingly discordant, as though in their grief the men had +not had time to tune them. Then came comrades carrying +candles, and comrades bearing first one coffin, then the second, +plain wooden coffins with no pall. Others carried chairs on +which the coffins were rested when the bearers were +changed. There were no priests. But there were +priests the next day for the wedding of another comrade. +Beppe told me that about 90 per cent of their funerals are +conducted without priests and about 90 per cent of their weddings +are conducted with priests.</p> +<p>They told me of one sulphur-miner who, having seen enough +funerals, left the mine and went to Palermo in search of +work. He was taken on by a contractor who was levelling a +piece of high ground, on which blocks of dwellings have since +been erected behind the Teatro Massimo, and began work at six +o’clock one morning. Five minutes later he was killed +and buried by a fall of earth.</p> +<p>In the mine they are in constant fear of this death. +They work very hard and the air is bad; they come up to sleep, to +eat and to gamble. The air they sleep in cannot be much +better than that in the mine, for they are laid out in close huts +on shelves, like rolls of stuff in a draper’s shop. +They <!-- page 156--><a name="page156"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 156</span>hardly know the difference between +youth and age, between spring and autumn. They scarcely get +a glimpse of the landscape except on Saturdays and Sundays, and +then they are intent upon something else. After their week +of labour they feel the necessity of expansion; they receive +their wages and go to Caltanissetta; those who are married sleep +with their wives, while those who are unmarried sleep quite alone +as the soldiers did after the death and burial of +l’Invincible Monsieur d’Malbrough. They become +free human beings for two days. I have seen the piazza full +of them on Sunday morning—so full that I thought it would +have been easier to walk across it, treading on their heads, than +to push through the crowd. Unfortunately their notion of +the life of a free human being does not stop at loafing about in +the piazza. They also go to the wine shops, where they +offer one another the means of forgetting that their oases of +rest lie in a desert of drudgery, and sometimes this becomes the +means of their forgetting everything else as well.</p> +<p>Gigino has written a paper upon the connection between +alcoholism and crime. He told me that the consumption of +alcohol in Sicily is less than in northern countries, but that +there is more crime. I naturally inquired whether it would +not tend to lessen the crime if the Sicilians would drink rather +more. He replied that, as so often happens at the beginning +of any inquiry, there are other considerations and I must not be +in a hurry. As for the sulphur-miners, they need not drink +more, but if they would spread fairly over the week the amount +they consume during Saturday and Sunday, then, although they +would risk incurring the consequences of chronic alcoholism, they +would avoid those of acute alcoholism. For the need of +expansion causes them to drink more than they can stand all at +once, then they quarrel and commit murders. So that many of +those who begin life as boys in the mine, and week after week +escape the falling rocks, live to be killed in a drunken brawl, +and one does not know which prospect is the more ugly.</p> +<p><!-- page 157--><a name="page157"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +157</span>I asked whether their condition could not be improved +by raising their wages. They asked whether I wished to +dislocate the commerce of the world by raising the price of +sulphur. I had no such desire and, indeed, did not know, +till they told me, that sulphur enters into so many manufactures +as it does. Here again in seeking to ameliorate conditions +with which one is imperfectly familiar one must not be in a +hurry. It is not altogether a question of raising their +wages, they receive from four and a half to five francs a day, +which, for five days, amounts to between twenty-two francs fifty +and twenty-five francs a week; there are many labourers who +receive less and do more with it. Of course, they would +like more wages—everyone would like more wages—but +what the sulphur-miners really want is the intelligence to use +wisely what they have and also some change, if it were possible, +in the conditions under which their work is done. Beppe +assured me that the question is not being overlooked, but it has +roots which extend further and are more complicated than the +galleries in the mine—roots which are tangled with the +roots of other questions affecting other interests, and these +again affect others. So I bowed before the other +considerations and hoped that with the changes that are +continually taking place in Sicily something may soon be done for +the sulphur-miners, trusting that in the meantime we are not +paying too dearly for the advantage of getting our sulphur so +cheap.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII<br /> +OMERTÀ AND THE MAFIA</h3> +<p>When the drunken sulphur-miners quarrel and kill one another +on Saturdays and Sundays, the murderers are seldom brought to +justice because of Omertà; a word which is said to be +derived from uomo and to signify manliness in the sense of power +of endurance, the power, for <!-- page 158--><a +name="page158"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 158</span>example, of +keeping silence even under torture; hence it comes to be used for +an exaggeration of that natural sense of honour, that Noblesse +Oblige or Decency Forbids, which makes an English schoolboy scorn +to become a sneak. It may be false and foolish, it may be +noble and chivalrous, whatever it is, they say, it has such a +firm growth among them because the history of Sicily is the +history of an island which has for centuries been misgoverned by +foreigners, and the people have lost any faith they may ever have +had in professional justice. If one were to be involved +with a Sicilian in committing a crime, one might be perfectly +certain that he would never turn King’s evidence, he would +say, “Io son uomo, io non parlo” (“I am a man, +I know how to hold my tongue”) and he would rather die than +betray an accomplice who is his friend and probably his +compare. Nor need the criminal fear that the victim or +anyone in the secret whether accomplice or not, will blab. +A man with a wound on his face, made obviously by a knife, will +swear to the police that in drawing a cork he fell and cut +himself with the bottle. He does not intend his assailant +to go unpunished, but he will not have the police interfering if +he can prevent it; he means to look after his own affairs +himself. If a murder has been committed a crowd will +collect round the murdered man—a crowd that includes the +police and also the murderer—but no one has any idea who +committed the crime, not even those who saw it done, and not even +the dying man, who may carry his assumption of ignorance so far +as to call his murderer to his side, embrace him affectionately +and give him a Judas-kiss which bears a double meaning; for the +police and the general public it is evidence that there can have +been no ill-feeling between the two, while for the friends of the +murdered man it confirms their suspicions as to the one on whom +the vendetta is to be executed. So many have told me this +that I cannot help thinking that, if it really is done as often +as they say, it must by now have lost some of its power of +deceiving the police. Probably it was done on <!-- page +159--><a name="page159"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +159</span>some occasion which took the public fancy, and they +keep on repeating it because it makes a dramatic close.</p> +<p>Giovanni Grasso has a play called <i>Omertà</i>:<i> La +Legge del Silenzio</i>. Don Andrea has been murdered by or +at the instigation of Don Totò (Salvatore), who is an +overbearing bully, nevertheless Saru (Rosario) has been sent to +prison for the crime and, during his absence, his girl has +married Don Totò. The play opens with the return +from prison of Saru, acted by Giovanni. He comes to the +house of his mother, with whom Don Totò and his wife are +living. The length of the play is provided by the +disappointments attending his return: his setting up for himself +and painting paladins on Sicilian carts; a scene of passionate +tenderness with his mother, during which he convinces her of his +innocence, but refuses to reveal the name of the murderer which +he has learnt in prison; a beautiful interview with Pasqualino, +his young brother, who shows he is the right sort of boy by +declaring of his own accord that he hates Don Totò; a +magnificent interrupted quarrel with Don Totò, and scenes +with the police and with the priest to whom Saru refuses to give +any information about the murder. Towards the end Saru +staggers in wounded. They all try to make him tell the name +of his murderer, but he will not. Finally, he is left alone +with Pasqualino to whom he gives his revolver with these dying +words:</p> +<p>“For Don Totò, when you shall be +eighteen.”</p> +<p>Pasqualino understands, kisses the pistol and accepts the +obligation, saying:</p> +<p>“I will see to it.”</p> +<p>The others return and ask Pasqualino whether Saru told him +anything before he died, and Pasqualino, concealing the pistol in +his bosom as the Spartan boy concealed the fox, bravely +answers:</p> +<p>“Nothing.”</p> +<p>One may object to the play on the ground that it breaks off +instead of coming to a conclusion—one is left wishing to +see Pasqualino, grown up and acted by Giovanni, executing <!-- +page 160--><a name="page160"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +160</span>the vendetta—but it is a good play and shows what +is meant by omertà. The dramatic critic of the +<i>Times</i> (2 March, 1910), on the morning after Giovanni +produced it in London, opened his notice of it thus: +“Omertà must make things very difficult for the +Sicilian police.” This is precisely what they +intend.</p> +<p>Without omertà the mafia would hardly flourish, and the +mafia is not so easy to understand. I suppose the reason +why Sicilians explain it badly is that they understand it too +well. The inquiring outsider cannot see the trees for the +wood, and the explaining insider cannot see the wood for the +trees. They labour to make clear things with which I am +familiar, and take for granted things which are strange to me, +treating me rather as my father treated the judges before whom he +was arguing some legal point. Their lordships interrupted +him:</p> +<p>“Yes, Mr. Jones, you say this is so and that is so, but +you do not produce any authority in support of your +statements.”</p> +<p>“Authority, my lord?” exclaimed my father, as +though perhaps he might have forgotten something: then, leaning +over the desk, he said, in a stage whisper: “Usher, bring +me <i>Blackstone</i>—or some other elementary +work.”</p> +<p>Thus we do not make much progress, but by degrees one picks up +a few ideas about it.</p> +<p>My friend Peppino Fazio, of Catania, allowed me to copy and +translate part of an article he wrote in a newspaper. He is +speaking of Palermo as long ago as 1780:</p> +<blockquote><p>The Albergheria was the quarter that harboured +those men who were most ready with their hands and most +quarrelsome; they were expert also in using their knives, with +which they fenced by rule and according to art; they obeyed a +certain code of chivalry of their own, not permitting the weak or +the unarmed to be bullied, treating as criminals those who used +fraud and treachery, and not brooking the intervention of the +police. They were men whom an exaggerated sentiment of +honour and of individual courage had decoyed from the path <!-- +page 161--><a name="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +161</span>of social conventions, but in whom there was a +fundamental notion of right conduct and a generosity at times +magnanimous. They held each other in great mutual respect, +free from any element of servility or cowardice, not recognising +grades, nor conferring any right to command—a respect that +was the more profound according as its object was the more +distinguished for acts of valour and grandeur of soul. It +was the tacit homage that one pays to heroes, poets, artists and +to every kind of genius.</p> +<p>These men, slowly degenerating, have produced the mafia, which +is associated with bullying, blackmailing and crime. The +word mafia has been applied in this bad sense only in more recent +times, as we are assured by those who have studied the +subject. The ancestors of the mafiosi used to call +themselves Cristiani—that is Men in the sense of men of +courage and silence.</p> +<p>The Cristiano carried in one pocket his rosary and in the +other his knife. Outside his own class he recognised the +higher social distinctions and, while preserving his own +self-respect and never stooping to obsequiousness, felt for the +galantuomini (that is for the townspeople) and for the signori +(that is for the patricians) a real submission which he displayed +both in acts and words by protecting their persons and their +reputations; so that no thief or evil-liver dared to commit any +crime against one who was known to be protected by a +Cristiano.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>One recognises about this something of the chivalry of Robin +Hood and of more modern highwaymen. The conditions of life +in the albergheria are not identical with those of life in the +open country, either in England or in Sicily, nor with those of +life in the orange-groves of the Conca d’Oro round about +Palermo. Both in the Conca d’Oro and in the open +fields the guardians employed to protect the crops are all +mafiosi and are able to prevent the employment of any who are +not. The conditions in a sulphur-mine again are +different. Confusion arises unless one knows which +conditions are present to the mind of him who is trying to +explain the mafia. Besides which, the words mafia and +mafioso are still often used in a good sense.</p> +<p><!-- page 162--><a name="page162"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +162</span>There was something mafioso about Michelino when he was +singing to us at the mine, keeping us all in order and silencing +the guitar with a wave of his hand. There is something of +it in a girl who is not ashamed of her beauty and does not blush +to be admired. It was the mafiosità of Guido Santo, +the mule, at Castellinaria, that sunny morning when he trotted up +and down in his new harness before taking us to the shore, which +put it into our heads to make it also his festa. There is +something of it in the attitude of King Henry VIII, with his hat +on one side and his arm a-kimbo, as he appears in a full-length +portrait by Holbein. There was a good deal of it in the +conduct of Giovanni in his Teatro Machiavelli on one occasion +when a lady music-hall singer failed to please; the public hissed +her and made such an uproar that she could not proceed. +Giovanni was, or pretended to be, furious. He behaved to +his audience as Nino Bixio behaved to his men on the Sicilian +expedition. He came on and abused them with gesticulation +and language; he swore and stormed at them; he appealed to their +sense of chivalry; he threatened to come down among them and +teach them manners; he declared that they should hear her. +He made the piano-man play; he went and fetched the lady; he +stood by her side, frowning, with his arms folded, ready to break +out, the personification of angry determination and suppressed +energy. The people acquiesced and listened. When the +singer had finished, they applauded; and they were applauding not +only her, but also Giovanni because he had dominated them. +It is a small theatre and their numbers may have been four or +five hundred—it would depend upon the programme and the +kind of evening it was—but if it had been the Teatro +Bellini he would have subdued them just as well, unless there had +been present someone to resist him with a stronger personality, +and his experience had taught him that the chances were against +that.</p> +<p>An imposing personality is a useless possession unless there +are others willing to be imposed upon, and it is this <!-- page +163--><a name="page163"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +163</span>willingness to be dominated quite as much as the love +of dominating that makes the mafia possible. If I may +“quote from memory”:</p> +<blockquote><p>Surely the pleasure is as great<br /> +Of being beaten as to beat.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Possibly the Sicilian charm contains among its many +ingredients a trace of this love of being dominated which, in +England, we associate more particularly with women, spaniels and +walnut trees; and if it were not so, history might contain less +about the misgovernment of the island by foreigners.</p> +<p>The mafia is not like the Neapolitan Camorra, it is not an +organised society such as one reads about in books for boys, nor +is it a recognised trade union with a president, secretary, +officers and so on. It is rather an esprit de corps, and no +more a secret society than omertà is a secret society; +nevertheless, they speak of the mafia as being more highly +organised in some districts than in others, and there are secret +societies whose members are mafiosi, so that for a foreigner to +speak of the mafia as a secret society would appear to be an +excusable error.</p> +<p>Among every collection of men, and even in a herd of bullocks, +one is always the acknowledged leader, and in a sulphur-mine it +naturally happens that one man has a more dominating personality, +more prepotenza, than any of the others; this capo-mafioso takes +the lead and is king. When, as often happens, he is a man +with a respect for law and order, willing to be useful to the +managers, the mafia can and does supplement in an amateur fashion +the deficiencies of professional justice. If Giovanni +Grasso were really a worker in a sulphur-mine, as he sometimes +appears to be on the stage, he would certainly take the lead, and +no one who knows him will believe that he could ever be capable +of a bad action. But few men can safely be trusted with +absolute power. Sometimes this capo-mafioso is a villain +who glories in a record of crime, a brow-beating bully who will +<!-- page 164--><a name="page164"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +164</span>stick at nothing. Here is a situation for a +melodrama—the Wicked Despot. He does as he chooses +with those around him, who fear lest he should treat them as Don +Totò treated Don Andrea before the opening of +<i>Omertà</i>, and as he treats Saru in the course of the +play; and they not only fear, they also admire an +unscrupulousness of which they feel themselves to be +incapable. They refer their disputes to him and execute his +orders. They do not pay him money for adjudicating between +them, it is enough for him to have the satisfaction of being +asked to arbitrate and, by giving his decision and seeing that it +is carried out, he consolidates his power. But he exacts +from them a percentage of their winnings at cards as tribute, and +they pay it willingly so as to keep on good terms with him. +Of course, under the throne of any of these tyrants, among those +who have sufficient daring, conspiracies are continually surging +and, sooner or later, whether he is a good or a bad man, he has +to give way to a stronger—perhaps a fresh arrival, who +takes the public fancy. Sometimes there are two with +apparently an equal power of dominating; they agree not to +quarrel openly, but, between themselves, each is on the look-out +for an opportunity to annihilate the other’s influence.</p> +<p>One Saturday, in the street at Caltanissetta, Beppe showed me +marks of bullets on the wall. He said that only a week +before there had been a row among a score of men with revolvers +about some question of precedence among the mafiosi in a +neighbouring mine arising out of the terms proposed for ending a +strike. One of the men was killed and several were wounded, +but the question of precedence could not be settled that day +because the survivors were all put into prison.</p> +<p>According to the plays, the prisons are to the mafiosi what +the ganglia are to the nerves, and give the prisoners an +opportunity for talking matters over, thus providing an effective +means of continuing the plot of the drama. And though the +criminals feel secure in the knowledge that <!-- page 165--><a +name="page165"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +165</span>omertà will prevent their confederates from +giving information, yet the police, of course, know who is who +all the time, just as the police in London know who are the +criminals; the law, however, is jealous of the rights of the +people and does not move on suspicion. And too much of the +modern police methods would not combine well with the +requirements of melodrama.</p> +<p>Beppe assured me that in his mine the mafiosi are mostly good +fellows and do not do any harm, except among themselves when they +quarrel, get drunk and murder one another. He admits that +the making use of them in the management of the men is like +playing with fire, but he agrees with all who have gone into the +matter that a stranger falling among them, wherever he might meet +them, would be treated with the most extreme respect and +courtesy. This is not because they are afraid of giving +themselves away, distrusting the stranger’s omertà, +it is because they have a real self-respect and wish to pass in +the eyes of the world for men of good position. The +presence of a stranger among them is a challenge to their +chivalry and to their oriental sense of hospitality.</p> +<p>Anyone wishing to study the mafia from books might begin with +<i>La Mafia e I Mafiosi</i>, by Antonio Cutrera, Delegato di +Pubblica Sicurezza (Palermo. Alberto Reber, 1900), and +continue with <i>La Mala Vita di Palermo</i> (<i>I +Ricottari</i>), by the same author. If he will also read +all the numerous books by other authors cited in the notes to +these two works he ought to gain a fair knowledge of the +subject.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV<br /> +MALA VITA</h3> +<p>Sicilians sometimes claim that much of what has been stated in +the foregoing chapter is now out of date, and that, with the +advance of civilisation, the power of the mafia <!-- page +166--><a name="page166"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +166</span>and the respect for omertà are giving way to +confidence in the police. And they go on to regret that +Giovanni Grasso should have so much success with his plays in +foreign countries, because they contain a great deal of mafia and +mala vita which he presents with so much realism that foreigners +are encouraged in the idea that all Sicilians are for ever +sleeplessly going about with knives in their belts seeking to +execute vendettas. But most theatre-goers know by this time +that melodramas are not made up of the events of ordinary +life. A man does not discover every day that he has been +deceived by his wife or that his sister has been betrayed by his +compare; when he does make such a discovery he may be pardoned if +he loses his self-control. Anyhow, the sleepless vendetta +notion is so ludicrously contrary to the fact that Sicily can +afford to take the risk. One might as well treat seriously +the complaint against the marionettes, that the swaggering talk +of Orlando and Rinaldo encourages the boys to behave in real life +as though every fancied insult must be wiped out with +blood. The boys certainly do fight—they can be seen +fighting in the fish-market, one armed with a basket for his +shield and another with a stick for his sword, his +Durlindana. But boys fight, even in England, with no +marionettes to inflame their imaginations, and sometimes they cut +one another; still, no one would take too seriously the +exclamation of that schoolmaster who, on being called to deal +with some such incident, hurried from his study muttering:</p> +<p>“Knives, knives—dangerous weapons; would to heaven +they had never been invented!”</p> +<p>What was he going to do at dinner-time? And if the +marionettes are to be abolished, what is the Sicilian boy to do +when it is time for him to sit down to his evening meal of +romance? It is even possible that if he were starved of his +marionettes he would more frequently substitute the dangerous +weapon for the stick.</p> +<p>We see Sicilian life only in bits at a time and any bit we see +may turn out on investigation to be only a bit of <!-- page +167--><a name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +167</span>acting; and, whether real life or acting, we see it +through the veil of romance which is held in front of it by their +language and by their gestures, which cause their acting to +appear more real—that is, which help it to be more +deceptive. By their language I do not mean merely their +words and their grammar—we also have a grammar, and our +dictionary contains words as many and as expressive as +theirs—the romance is rather in their attitude of mind and +the consequent use they make of their words. I have read +with disgust in an English newspaper an account of a squalid +Pentonville murder which, as described in a contemporary Italian +journal, appeared worthy to be set to music by Puccini. We +are like the audience in Giovanni’s theatre—dominated +by the imposing romance of the language, and we prefer to be so +dominated. Or we are like the audience in the teatrino at +Palermo, when the buffo performs a miracle; as soon as we get +behind “la mala vita” and see it as “the life +of the criminal classes” we have caught a glimpse of how +the illusion is worked.</p> +<p>By their gestures I mean something about which in England, in +France and even in Northern Italy, nothing is known. It is +true that we Northerners can and do communicate with one another +in gesture, but in England we mostly omit gesture and use speech, +while in France and Northern Italy the gesture is only +slight. A Sicilian sometimes omits words, but if he omits +gestures it is only by exercising great self-control. When +he is talking naturally, every muscle of his body is at work +helping him to express his meaning. It is as though he had +not yet learnt to trust speech, everything must be acted too, as +half-educated people have not yet learnt to trust the written +word and if they read must read aloud. At a cinematograph +show, when a letter or telegram or the title of the piece is +shown on the screen, a murmur goes round the hall; it is the +people reading the writing out loud to assure themselves of its +meaning. So the talking Sicilian is telling everything +twice, once with his voice and once with his gestures and <!-- +page 168--><a name="page168"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +168</span>there is so much oil in his backbone that there is +nothing creaky, awkward or grudging in his movements; the +gestures are made with an exuberance, an intensity and a natural +unconscious beauty which seem to lift the matter above the plane +of ordinary life. So habitual is this gesticulation that it +is often useless. I have been behind the scenes in a +marionette theatre, watching the man declaiming for the +figures. His energy was tremendous, no wonder he drank out +of a black bottle from time to time. I knew he was hidden +from the audience and thought he might be suggesting movements +for the marionettes to the man who was manipulating them, but +that man could not see him either and was improvising the +movements of the figures unaided.</p> +<p>The gesticulating Sicilian, however, is not more deeply moved +by what he is describing than the phlegmatic Englishman is when +he is quietly telling something. I have sometimes ventured +to laugh at the Sicilian for his unnecessary vehemence, and he +has stopped in the middle of it all and joined in the +laughter. It would be extremely interesting to see Giovanni +Grasso in the part of an English gentleman, a Wyndham or a +Hawtrey part. I believe he would succeed because I believe +he would succeed in anything he set his mind to do, but for him +to reproduce an Englishman’s tranquillity would be as much +of an effort as it would be for an English actor to reproduce a +Sicilian’s mobility.</p> +<p>Their power of acting is not confined to those who are actors +by profession; the love of improvising little scenes in daily +life may be said to be characteristic of them. To suppose +that they do this from a love of lying would be to simplify +unduly; they have the artist’s power of seeing a thing in +two senses at once, and they assume that they will not be +misunderstood, at all events, they are not going to give it all +away by explaining, and if the stranger is taken in—well, +as a rule, it does not very much signify. Just as +omertà makes things difficult for the Sicilian police, so +this <!-- page 169--><a name="page169"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 169</span>love of acting makes things +difficult for the foreign traveller. There is a story in +the form of a dialogue between a foreigner in Palermo inquiring +of a native about a tree that was clipped into a fantastic +shape. It can hardly be given in English because it turns +on the double meaning of “naturale,” which means +sometimes “natural” and sometimes +“naturally,” but if it be added that +“scusi” = “excuse me”; +“quest’ albero” = “this tree”; +“è” = “is”; “o” = +“or,” any reader will be able to understand it:</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Foreigner</span>: Scusi, Signore; +quest’ albero è artificiale o naturale?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Palermitan</span>: Artificiale.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">For</span>: Oh, artificiale?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Pal</span>: Naturale.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">For</span>: È naturale?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Pal</span>: Artificiale.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">For</span>: (<i>getting irritated</i>): +Scusi, Signore; quest’ albero è artificiale o +naturale?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Pal</span>: Artificiale, naturale.</p> +<p>And then the foreigner goes home and writes a book about his +travels, saying that the natives are so stupid they do not even +know whether their trees are clipped into odd shapes by nature or +art. But the apparently grave and courteous Palermitan knew +what he was doing all the time and was enjoying it as a child +enjoys committing a harmless piece of mischief.</p> +<p>If one were to pierce through it and understand them as they +may be supposed to understand themselves, one would not +necessarily be in a position to give an opinion about the mafia, +for, besides those who speak of the growing confidence in the +police, there are others who assert that the improvement, if any, +is slight and only on the surface, and that the spirit of the +mafia is not confined to the mala vita, but extends to the upper +classes and influences even the administration of justice and the +elections. When the natives differ on such a point, a mere +foreigner can hardly <!-- page 170--><a name="page170"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 170</span>decide; but I have more frequently +heard the opinion expressed in favour of improvement. +Certainly, in the Teatro Machiavelli, when murderers are taken by +the police it is often done now with the approval of the +audience, which they tell me would not have been the case some +years back.</p> +<p>Before writing about the mala vita one ought at least to have +seen a man murdered in the street. I have never seen this, +nor have I ever even seen the body of a murdered man lying in the +street. All that I know about the mala vita in Sicily has +been gathered from conversation, books and plays. Lest it +should be thought that in thus disclaiming practical knowledge of +the subject I am inspired by omertà—as a traveller +may shut his eyes to unpleasant incidents out of regard for his +hosts—I will here collect together all the occasions when I +have thought myself to be in the immediate neighbourhood of the +mala vita.</p> +<p>At Castellinaria the barber who keeps the shop opposite the +Albergo della Madonna—the shop in which Alfio Mascalucia +was assistant—always seemed to me to be a man one would +readily trust with all one’s possessions. He must be +now over forty, married and with a family. Peppino told me +the other day that in his youth, meaning between the ages of +eighteen and twenty-six, this barber had been a notorious +ricottaro and had often been in prison for crimes of various +kinds. When I heard this, his extremely courteous manner +reminded me of the Robin Hood side of the Cristiani, and of the +oriental hospitality of the mafiosi towards strangers. I +asked Peppino whether I ought to discontinue my custom. He +said not unless I was dissatisfied with him as a barber. +Then I realised that I must have forgotten where I was for the +moment.</p> +<p>Carmelo and his brother Rosario at Castellinaria have both +been in prison for attempting to murder, but they can neither of +them be said ever to have belonged to the class of habitual +criminals.</p> +<p>In the Teatro Machiavelli Peppino Fazio gave me as a <!-- page +171--><a name="page171"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +171</span>ricordo one of the knives used by the mafiosi. +The blade doubles on the handle, so that when open it is about +twice as long as when shut; some are as long as twenty-four +inches when open, mine is only eighteen. Being intended for +the theatre, it has never been sharpened or pointed but, except +for this it is a real mala vita knife. They told me there +would be nothing to fear so long as I continued the life of +blameless respectability which had no doubt become habitual to +me—or some nonsense of that kind—but that if I should +happen to be caught by the police in doubtful surroundings and +searched, even this knife, in spite of its arrested adolescence, +might get me into trouble.</p> +<p>“So you had better be careful,” said one of them; +“but if you do get put into prison, let us know and you +shall be treated as well as any ricottaro. I will bring you +a good dinner every day.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said another, “and I will bring you +cigarettes.”</p> +<p>“And I,” said a third, “will fetch your +linen and bring it back to you nicely washed and +ironed.”</p> +<p>Whenever I show my knife to any of my English friends, for I +am happy to say I got it safely home, they always exclaim that it +is an entirely prosaic object. And so it is. It is as +unromantic as an escape of gas.</p> +<p>Several times I have been in a theatre when the performance +has been interrupted by a disturbance among the audience, but I +have never seen it develop into a serious row.</p> +<p>Once in Palermo my bedroom looked over a small piazza, and one +night I heard talking and looked out. I saw a crowd and +distinguished a man disputing from below with another man on a +balcony about fifteen feet from mine, and there was a woman in +the room behind him. The dispute was all in dialect, but +evidently they were very angry. Presently the man on the +balcony drew a revolver, it shone in the doubtful light, and he +threatened the man below; but nothing further happened and +presently the crowd dispersed, the man on the balcony retired and +all <!-- page 172--><a name="page172"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 172</span>was quiet. Perhaps this was +the prelude to a murder, and I may have read about it afterwards +in the newspaper without knowing how near I had been to the +crime.</p> +<p>There was one other occasion when I thought I was going to see +something of the mala vita. On the cliff at Castellinaria +are some remains of polygonal buildings which have been made a +national monument. The custode’s cabin is just below, +in a sheltered place where Peppino and I sometimes go and sit +after supper. One moonlight evening, it was rather late, +but the lamp was still shining in the cabin and the custode was +still hanging about, I heard someone approaching and, looking up, +saw, against the sky, a sinewy, slight woman in a long black +dress with a black shawl over her head. She was coming +rapidly along the edge of the cliff with a shuffling, swaying +motion, and as she came she was continually rearranging the shawl +over her head and chattering volubly to herself in a hoarse, +coarse, raucous voice. The custode glanced at her as she +drew near and I thought he flinched. I do not know how I +knew it, but I was sure she was his wife. She was beside +herself with passion. She must have found out +something—something about some other woman. I felt as +I have felt at an Ibsen play—as though I were looking +through the keyhole into a room where dirty linen was about to be +washed. She shook and trembled all over like an express +train approaching a country station. Reason told me that +Peppino and I were safe, we were on the platform; nevertheless +accidents do happen and there was the poor custode on the +line. She drew up in front of us, and her draperies swirled +round her with the suddenness of her stopping. She became +silent and still, while she looked at me as though fixing my +appearance on her brain for this life and the next; she looked at +Peppino in the same way and at the custode. Then the +chattering began again and the restless rearranging of her shawl +over her head. Suddenly she turned, poured herself into the +cabin and exploded. It was not as with an earthquake, for +the walls <!-- page 173--><a name="page173"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 173</span>were left standing and the roof and +foundations were unshaken, and an earthquake, they say, seems to +last for an eternity, whereas this woman seemed to take but a +moment to complete her work of desolation. She pounced upon +something among the debris and laughed hysterically as she hid it +in her bosom.</p> +<p>The storm was over. She was transformed into a rather +beautiful and extremely graceful woman of about thirty. She +exchanged a few words of friendly chaff with her husband, smiled +at Peppino and bowed to me as she passed out, went up the path +against the moonlit sky and faded into the night.</p> +<p>All this was about a pack of cards. She had promised to +lend the cards to a neighbour that evening; her husband was to +have brought them home early in the day; he had forgotten to do +so and she had come to fetch them. So there was no murder +and no dirty linen, but the cabin had to be tidied.</p> +<p>What would this woman do had she the motive and the cue for +passion that I had supposed for her? If her husband ever +does entertain another lady in his cabin and his wife hears of +it, I hope I may not be in the neighbourhood. But if I were +to be there and to witness the crime, omertà would forbid +me, as a good Sicilian, to say anything about it. I should +have to forget the claims of justice and go to prison, if +necessary, rather than give such information as might lead to the +conviction of the person or persons guilty.</p> +<p>Lastly, there was the lady in the restaurant-car—but +perhaps she ought not to be included in the list. Let her +have the benefit of the doubt and a chapter to herself.</p> +<h2><!-- page 177--><a name="page177"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 177</span>CASTELLINARIA</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER XV<br /> +THE CARDINALESSA</h3> +<p>One day, as I was travelling through the island by rail, I +lunched in the restaurant-car and divided my attention between +the colazione, the view and the other lunchers.</p> +<p>At the table in front of me sat three gentlemen; beyond them, +at a separate table, sat a distinguished-looking lady, quietly +but well dressed in foamy white musliny stuff, with a good deal +of lace and a few touches of pale green. She had a lovely +hat and a veil, which she wore in such a way that I thought how +well she would look in a motor-car. She did not appear to +be much over thirty, and she was alone except that she had a +little dog, whom she fed from her plate and who was evidently +very fond of her. She was not strictly beautiful, her face +depended for its charm more on its expression than on the +regularity of its features, but there was about her a certain +indescribable combination of dignity and vivacity that was +curiously attractive, and that soon attracted the three +gentlemen, who, I presently became aware, had entered into +conversation with her. Possibly they had asked the waiter +to introduce them while I was looking out of the window. +Certainly they cannot have met her before, because I heard them +ask her her nationality, and she told them that her father was an +Italian, a native of Rome, and that her mother was French. +And where was she going? To some place whose name I did not +catch. Then she must change at the junction. Yes, but +there would be no difficulty because she was accustomed to +travelling, she had travelled in China, India, Egypt and +America. No doubt she was gifted by nature with that happy +temperament which <!-- page 178--><a name="page178"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 178</span>enables its possessor to make +friends easily, and her extensive travels had provided +opportunities for its cultivation. I supposed the three +gentlemen to be accountants or advocates or perhaps engineers; +but I thought from her manner that she would have been just as +much at her ease if they had been carabinieri. I heard her +tell them she was twenty-two; she must have been very young when +she began her travels.</p> +<p>While the waiter was making out our bills, one of the +gentlemen begged her to grant him a favour. She smiled in +her frank open way as an encouragement to him to name it, and he +declared that he should consider it an honour if she would permit +him to pay for her luncheon. The lady accepted his +generosity, and granted his request with a smile of such queenly +condescension that I had a vision of great Elizabeth stepping +upon Raleigh’s cloak.</p> +<p>Presently this gentleman went and sat by himself at a table +for two and the lady joined him. This appeared to me a +little odd; he might just as well have sat at her table, or have +invited her to sit at his with the other two gentlemen, there was +room and it would have been less marked. But they seemed to +prefer to start a little colony of their own, as it were, on +neutral ground. The gentleman made another proposal: A +glass of wine? With pleasure. So the waiter brought +it, and then the lady accepted a cigarette.</p> +<p>At the junction the lady and the gentleman both got out, and I +saw him help her into her train, which started first for the +place whose name I had not caught. Then he got into his +train, which was labelled “Castellinaria,” and I went +on without changing. A few days later, however, I returned +to the junction, changed there and followed the accountant to +Castellinaria, where I was going to see my friend Antonio, who +happened to be engaged there on an engineering job. In the +evening I told him about the lady in the restaurant-car. He +laughed and said:</p> +<p>“But this lady is a particular friend of mine. She +is <!-- page 179--><a name="page179"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +179</span>often here, she returned two days ago and told me all +this herself, only last night. If you would like to make +her acquaintance I will take you to see her.”</p> +<p>So we went to her hotel, which was not the Albergo della +Madonna. She received us in her bedroom, for which she +apologised charmingly—so charmingly as to make it appear +the most natural thing in the world to be received by her in her +bedroom. She remembered seeing me in the train, and begged +me to sit down. She had a visitor—a gentleman. +It was the gentleman who had paid for her luncheon in the +restaurant-car. I was introduced, and he was, as I had +supposed, an accountant. The lady was less elaborately clad +than on the occasion of our previous meeting. Just as her +other costume was precisely what it should have been for a +restaurant-car, so this was precisely adapted to her present +surroundings. She evidently understood dress. And +very pretty it was to see her busying herself about the room, +entertaining her guests and playing with her little dog. He +was not the only little dog she had ever had. Her previous +companion, who had been given her by a Neapolitan gentleman, +died, and she wept for six weeks and was inconsolable until +another friend gave her this one. She thought first of +calling him Vesuvio, which was the name of his predecessor, but +could not bring herself to do so. Then she had the +inspiration to call him Etna, which suited him better, because he +was a trifle bigger; it was also a kind of complimentary +reference to her first love. While she told us this she was +making coffee with a spirit lamp on the chest of drawers. +She had a speciality for making coffee, and really it was quite +drinkable.</p> +<p>She gave us the story of her life. She was the niece of +a cardinal, in whose person were accumulated all the apostolic +virtues, and her mother was a French lady of noble birth and +almost incredible beauty, who, when Mary, or Mery as she prefers +to write it, was about two months old, married the +cardinal’s coachman and had eleven more <!-- page 180--><a +name="page180"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +180</span>children. When one draws a conclusion from +insufficient data, it is always satisfactory to discover, as one +too seldom does, that one was right. I had been right about +the gentleman being an accountant, and here I was right again in +my surmise that the lady was exceptionally highly connected, so +highly that one could overlook her mother’s +mésalliance with the coachman. Her uncle was only a +bishop at the time of her birth, he became a cardinal soon after +Mery’s mother married the coachman, and then he forced the +coachman to legitimise Mery, and in this way the coachman became +Mery’s legal father; and all this was part of a scheme to +accelerate the ecclesiastical preferment of her uncle. Ah! +but he was an ambitious man and aspired to the throne of S. +Peter. His scheme failed, however, owing to the wicked +intrigues of the Jesuits.</p> +<p>Parts of this might have borne, I do not say amplification, +for it was quite long enough, but a word or two of +elucidation. I have no doubt Mery would have been quite +ready to explain everything, for she had nothing to conceal and +the subject would have done as well as any other to display her +feminine charm, but I did not interrupt, because I have observed +that when a thorough woman of business undertakes to elucidate a +point of law, she does it so much in the manner of Mrs. Nickleby +that she not infrequently leaves it more obscure than she finds +it. Mery did not expressly say she was a woman of business, +she, in fact, disclaimed any such pretension, but she did it with +a delightful mock modesty that forbade us to take her words +literally.</p> +<p>No expense was spared over Mery’s education. She +was sent to a convent at Marseilles and the nuns were very kind +to her, not because of her ecclesiastical connection, but because +they were holy women with large and noble hearts. Before +her education was completed, however, she was sent for to return +home, and oh, what a home it was! Her mother’s health +had broken down because the cardinal beat her, her legal father +drank instead of protecting his wife, the younger children were +uncared-for and the elder <!-- page 181--><a +name="page181"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 181</span>children, +though they were growing up, had not Mery’s business +capacity and powers of management. She put her shoulder to +the wheel, did the marketing, the cooking and the cleaning; she +washed and mended the children’s clothes and saw to +everything. She hated the life, but woman was born to +suffer and she did her duty.</p> +<p>In time her next sister married a music-hall singer—I +should say a dramatic artist. Mery, who was now entering +upon the heyday of her youth and beauty, was naturally introduced +to the friends of her sister’s husband. Every man in +the company fell in love with her; all the bachelors proposed, +and without her natural firmness, reinforced by the teaching of +the holy nuns, she could scarcely have escaped matrimony. +There was another thing that helped to save her—she was +waiting for her anima gemella. I may here say that her +anima gemella has not yet crossed her path and that her real age +is twenty-seven. She told us this in confidence and it is +not to go any further. For people in restaurant-cars she is +any age she thinks proper at the moment, they do not matter, but +she will never deceive her friends.</p> +<p>Her sister’s husband was a man of real insight; he +divined that Mery was a heaven-inspired dancer, and devoted +himself to the development of her genius. She did not say +he had taught her to dance; she said he encouraged and developed +her natural genius for dancing. She made her debut with a +success which the newspapers declared to be even more +“phenomenal” than that which attends the debut of +every artist. Engagements followed, and soon she was +dancing practically all over the globe, creating a furore +wherever she went and leaving the younger children’s socks +to wash and darn themselves. Her mother was too ill and her +legal father too drunk to know what she was doing or where she +was doing it, but His Eminence heard and was so much scandalised +that when she danced into the Eternal City the doors of the +Vatican were closed to her. Cardinals are delightful men, +<!-- page 182--><a name="page182"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +182</span>most of them—and Mery knows because she is on +terms of intimacy with every member of the College—but too +frequently they have a fault; they do not understand the artistic +temperament. Nevertheless, if her uncle could have heard +the cheers that greeted her in Shanghai and New York, and the +encores that called her back in Cairo and Calcutta, if he could +have seen the flowers that choked the wheels of her carriage in +St. Petersburg and the diamonds that were showered upon her in +Brazil, even his commonplace heart must have been moved.</p> +<p>She did not dance for us because, it seems, they do not dance +when they are resting, which was perhaps the psychological +reason, but there was also a geographical reason in the want of +space, for the room was small and contained, besides Mery and +Etna in one arm-chair, another arm-chair and two ordinary chairs +occupied by her visitors; also there was the chest of drawers on +which she had made the coffee and all such other articles of +furniture as one usually sees in a hotel bedroom, including two +beds. The extra bed was there because Mery was, she +confessed it, of luxurious habits and in the hot weather liked to +be able to change and finish the night in a cool bed.</p> +<p>Here there came a pause, not that she was exhausted, but +something had happened about the little dog, who required +attention. When Etna’s business had been settled I +thought it might be tactful if I suspended the inconvenience, as +they say, so I asked Antonio whether we ought not to go and we +begged leave to retire. She wished us good night in her +frank, open way, thanked me for my visit, inquired how long I was +staying in the town and concluded with the hope that I would call +again, she never went out, so I should be sure to find her at any +time. It should not be Addio, it should be Arrivederci.</p> +<p>There are few places where I am more at home than I am in +Castellinaria, but as I had come there this time expressly to see +Antonio he considered it his duty to look after me; he was +engaged next day, however, so he deputed <!-- page 183--><a +name="page183"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 183</span>two of his +friends to amuse me, and they invited me to come for a drive to +the lighthouse. On the way, one of them said:</p> +<p>“And so Antonio took you yesterday to pass an +intellectual evening with the cardinalessa.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” I replied. “What a charming +woman and what a strange life!”</p> +<p>They agreed, somewhat coldly as it seemed to me, and they +rather markedly refrained from developing the subject I had +offered them; but they proposed a counter subject. In a few +days it would be Mery’s onomastico and they were going to +send flowers. I should be in Palermo, would not I send her +a message on a picture post-card? Of course I would. +So between us we composed it:—</p> +<blockquote><p>Auguri per l’ onomastico. +Ringraziamenti per la serata intellettuale e per il +caffè. Saluti—non più, per timore di +ingelosire nostro amico Antonio.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Devotissimo suo Enrico. <a +name="citation183"></a><a href="#footnote183" +class="citation">[183]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>This was the address:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">All’ Eminentissima Cardinalessa</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mery So-and-So</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Albergo dell’ Allegria</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Castellinaria</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I chose a card with a picture of St. Peter’s; this +seemed more appropriate than una ballerina qualunque, which I +might have had for the same money, because her onomastico was the +8th September, the birthday of the Madonna, and it was her uncle +who had given her the name of Mery and had himself baptised +her.</p> +<p>I left Castellinaria next day with the card in my pocket ready +to be posted on the 7th September, and went to Palermo, where I +know a young doctor. I told him all <!-- page 184--><a +name="page184"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 184</span>about it +and showed him the post-card. When he saw Mery’s real +name he burst out laughing.</p> +<p>“Oh! that woman! Why, I know her quite well. +She was here with a friend of mine, who asked me to attend her +professionally—I mean in my professional capacity. +Oh! nothing serious, but we had to communicate with her people +and I know all about her. She is not a normal woman. +Of course, that rigmarole about the cardinal is all +nonsense. She is the daughter of a fisherman of +Siracusa. She did dance here once for a few nights, but +only at the Biondo, and no one noticed her, she was in one of the +back rows of the ballet. Did they tell you why she returned +to Castellinaria?”</p> +<p>They had said nothing about it, and my doctor, not being a +friend of Antonio and therefore not bound by any ties of +omertà, gave me an account of it.</p> +<p>It happened a few months previously: Mery was living in +Palermo in a hotel, and her room had a balcony; the next balcony +belonged to a room occupied by a young lady and her family, and +the young lady was engaged to an officer. One day Etna +strayed on to the neighbouring balcony and behaved in a manner +that displeased the young lady whose betrothed complained to the +proprietor and Mery was requested to leave. She, of course, +saw that all this about her dog was merely a casus belli +concealing a conspiracy to insult her, and indignantly refused to +go. Next day, while the officer was sitting with his +friends outside his usual caffè, Mery happened to pass on +her way to buy a stamp and post a letter. She spoke to the +officer, saying:</p> +<p>“You think a lot of yourself, don’t +you?”</p> +<p>The officer requested her not to address him, whereupon, +taking the law into her own hands, she went up to him and made a +hole in her manners by scratching his face. A crowd began +to collect. Mery permitted herself the use of an +expression. It was a Sicilian word, my doctor told me what +it was and also its meaning; it appeared to me <!-- page 185--><a +name="page185"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 185</span>rather +silly than offensive, but he assured me that it is never used +except by people of the very lowest class. Mery then made +more holes in her manners, reducing them to the condition of one +of her father’s fishing-nets, and was attempting to do the +same with the officer’s face when the crowd interfered; +Mery was hissed and handed over to the police, who prepared her +papers, took her to the railway station and turned her out of the +town.</p> +<p>Incidents such as this, by showing Mery that Sicily is no +longer being misgoverned by foreigners, may in time, perhaps, +teach her not to distrust professional justice. They also +may in time, perhaps, teach travellers not to trust to +conclusions based upon insufficient data about +distinguished-looking ladies in restaurant-cars.</p> +<p>But I sent her the post-card all the same.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI<br /> +THE CORPORAL</h3> +<p>One makes friends rapidly in Sicily. I made friends for +life with all the coast-guards during three or four hours which I +spent with them in their caserma. The corporal was the most +demonstrative, and after I returned to England we exchanged +post-cards for some months. Then he suddenly left off +writing, and I drew the conclusion that it is as easy to unmake +friends as to make them. But I was wrong. After four +and a half years of undeserved neglect I received another +post-card:</p> +<blockquote><p>Since the death of one of my sisters and the +occurrence of several other family troubles I have not been able +before this day to write and assure you of the great affection +which I continue to nourish towards you. For this I beg +your pardon and your indulgence. I should have much +pleasure in writing you a long letter and in telling you many +things. Do you permit me to do so?</p> +</blockquote> +<p><!-- page 186--><a name="page186"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +186</span>I gave the required permission, and presently received +the long letter—much too long to be reproduced, but +amounting to this:</p> +<p>That he was sorry to hear I had had a cold, and wished he +could have had it instead; we could only hope that heaven would +give me good health for a hundred years; that he was now writing +the long letter about which there had been delay in consequence +of his having been away at home on leave when the necessary +permission reached him; that he had no words in which to express +his joy at hearing that I was soon coming to Sicily, as it was +now sixty-three months since he had been in my presence. +“Year after year and I have not seen you, spring after +spring and I have not seen you, autumn after autumn and I have +not seen you, and I have always looked for your coming and have +not seen you.”</p> +<p>He went on to say that the young lady to whom he was engaged +was a beautiful and honest girl, well educated and of a superior +but unfortunately poor family. He was longing for the day +when he might introduce her to me, for he had now been engaged +over four years, and his misery was that he did not know when +they could be married. He was thirty-five, and had been in +service fifteen years and a half; on attaining forty he would be +able to retire from the service and marry, but in the meantime he +was losing all his youth under military discipline; he had +applied for a permanent government post which might be given him +at any moment, and then he could retire from the coast-guard +service and return to his business; he was a carpenter by trade, +and there would then be no obstacle to his marrying. And +sometimes he was in despair because he could marry at once if +only he could deposit 8000 francs—a sum that was beyond his +means. He saw no way out of his trouble. He had been +very unfortunate ever since he was born, and supposed he should +continue to be so until he died; but he had always been +economical, and had saved about half the <!-- page 187--><a +name="page187"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 187</span>sum +required; if only he could get the remaining 4000 francs it would +be a great good fortune, and in a few days he hoped to send me +his photograph together with that of his young lady.</p> +<p>I replied congratulating him on his engagement and regretting +that it was not in my power to help him to hasten his +marriage. Even if there had been any reason why I should +help him I should not have contemplated mixing myself up with the +regulations regarding the marriage of coast-guards made by a +friendly nation. If one were to begin, it would take a +great deal of money to go round Italy endowing all the +coastguards who want to marry; not that he had asked me to do +this, he had not even asked me to help him, but it is as well to +be prepared for what seems likely to happen next, and I was using +a sanctified form of refusal.</p> +<p>In his reply he did not mention the subject; he said he had +been transferred to Castellinaria and had been promoted. He +was now Caporale Maggiore. I did not know before that +coastguard corporals, like musical scales and Hebrew prophets, +could be either major or minor.</p> +<p>I again congratulated him, and hoped his promotion might help +to hasten his marriage. Next time I was at Castellinaria I +asked Peppino where I should find the caserma of the Guardia di +Finanza.</p> +<p>“It is in the church,” said Peppino.</p> +<p>“What church? Not the duomo?”</p> +<p>“No; this other church where is no longer the praying +and they shall enchant no more the Glory of the Mass with music +and the bells are not ringing and there is the cortile near the +sea. It is not very long far.”</p> +<p>Then I knew he meant the disused church of S. Maria +dell’ Aiuto which I had often admired. I called there +the following day about three in the afternoon and inquired for +the corporal. His comrade who let me in took me along two +sides of a beautiful cloister, with sculptured marble columns, +and upstairs into the barber’s shop, where we <!-- page +188--><a name="page188"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +188</span>found the corporal with a towel round his neck being +shaved. He was so surprised to see me that I was afraid +there would be an accident, but the barber was clever and nothing +serious happened. After the shaving he took me into the +dormitory, which extends all along one side of the cloister on +the first floor with windows looking on the grass and flowers of +the cortile on one side and over the sea on the other—very +fresh and healthy. Some of his comrades, who had been on +duty all night, were sleeping in their beds, other beds were +empty, and their owners were blacking their boots and polishing +their buttons. He told them to entertain me, which they did +while he finished his dressing. He then returned and +proposed taking me out.</p> +<p>As we went along he asked whether he might take me to see his +young lady. I was surprised to hear she was in the town, +knowing it was not her native place, and asked whether the +remaining 4000 francs had dropped from heaven. He replied +that he was still waiting. He was to have a month’s +leave soon, and intended to take the girl to his home and +introduce her to his family; in the meantime he had hired a room, +and it was very expensive—twenty francs a month, in the +house of most respectable people. I foresaw complications +when they should arrive at home, at least I thought the journey +might provoke remark among the friends of the family, but I said +nothing, and we went to the house of the respectable +people. Here I was introduced to the fidanzata, whose name +was Filomena, and who appeared to be, as he had said, rather +above him in station and of refined and lady-like manners. +She was embroidering the top part of a sheet—the part that +is turned down and lies over the pillow when the bed is +made—no doubt for her trousseau. The design had been +traced and traced again from the tracing so often that it was +difficult to say what it represented. There was a +balustrade of columns like those that were taken from old Kew +Bridge and sold to support sun-dials; there were cauliflowery +arabesques, and among the spiky foliage there were <!-- page +189--><a name="page189"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +189</span>meaningless ponds of open-work made by gathering the +threads of the linen together into wonderful patterns. In +the middle of all this stood one who after a few more tracings +will have quite lost the semblance of a woman; the five fingers +of her hands and the five toes of her feet had already become so +conventionalised that all one could be sure of was that there +were still five of each. The corporal said that this +monster was Helen gazing out to sea from the topless towers of +Ilium. She was really looking the other way, exhibiting to +the spectator all that remained of the face that launched the +thousand ships of which half a dozen were shown riding at anchor +behind her back. I did not venture to criticise, because +the corporal knew all about it, having seen the <i>Story of +Hector</i> done by the marionettes. Filomena was +embroidering this most beautifully; I should say that the +needle-working of it was as much above all praise as the design +of it was beneath all blame.</p> +<p>Most of the room was taken up by a bed large enough to hold +three or four Filomenas without crowding, and upon it lay a +mandoline and a guitar. The corporal called for music; +Filomena cheerfully complied, left her broidery-frame, and took +up the mandoline, whose only title to be considered a musical +instrument is that Mozart uses it for the pizzicato accompaniment +which Don Giovanni plays while he sings “Deh +Vieni.” Filomena, knowing nothing about Mozart, used +her mandoline for the delivery of a melody which she performed +with great skill, though it was but a silly tune and sounded +sillier than it was because of the irritating tremolo. It +was like her embroidery—very well done but not worth +doing. She had been taught the mandoline by the nuns, who +had also taught her needlework. I expected the corporal to +accompany her on the guitar; he admitted that he was passionately +devoted to music, but excused himself from performing on the +ground that he had not studied it. This is not usually put +forward as an objection; the rule is <!-- page 190--><a +name="page190"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 190</span>for them to +play and tell one, unnecessarily but with some pride, that they +are doing it all by ear. And in their accompaniment they +show themselves to be artists of the school that preaches +“Simplify, simplify, simplify” in that they exclude +all harmonies except those of the tonic, dominant and +sub-dominant. But they make the mistake of not being +careful always to play each in its right place; they carry their +simplifying process to the length of using their chosen harmonies +in regular order, one after the other, two bars each—it may +come right and it may not, and when it does not the resulting +complexities ruin the simplicity. This sort of thing might +become unbearable, but I know how to escape from people of the +corporal’s class without being rude. I do not tell +them I have another engagement—that is not accepted +because, as there is no time in Sicily, punctuality is not +recognised. If they have a proverb about it, it ought to +be, “Never put off till to-morrow what can be done the day +after.” Nor do I say I have letters to +write—that only provokes discussion:</p> +<p>“We thought you had come all this way to see us, and now +you want to write to England! You can talk to your English +friends when you are at home.”</p> +<p>The course is to say one wants to sleep; one need not sleep, +but no objection is made, and one is usually allowed to depart at +once. I have not ventured to try this among my aristocratic +friends, I doubt whether it would work with them—besides, +they disarm me by handing round tea—but with corporals I +employ it freely, and the knowledge that I can always get away in +a moment, even if I choose to remain, imparts to their company a +sense of freedom which I regret to say I have sometimes looked +for in vain in the educated drawing-rooms of the upper +classes.</p> +<p>Before Filomena could begin her third piece I put my method in +practice, and for once it did not work quite smoothly, but the +result was not unsatisfactory.</p> +<p>Certainly I might sleep, said the corporal; but why go +away? He hoped I should dine with them. I might name +<!-- page 191--><a name="page191"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +191</span>my own hour and, as for sleeping, there was the +bed. Besides, his brother was coming to dinner:</p> +<p>“I want you to know my brother,” said the +corporal; “he is not like me.”</p> +<p>“But, my dear Corporal, that is no +recommendation,” I replied. “Is he also a +coast-guard?”</p> +<p>“No. He is a dentist and very clever. He is +an artificial dentist and he had to work to learn his +profession.”</p> +<p>“Well, I suppose every dentist must learn his profession +before he is qualified. Dentists have to be made, they are +not like poets. No one is a natural born +dentist.”</p> +<p>“He had to work very hard. For a whole year he +went to the hospital every day four times a week.”</p> +<p>“A clever dentist is a useful ally. I should like +to know him. I might want his help while I am here. +What is his name?”</p> +<p>“Ah yes! That will interest you, he has an English +name.” Then he said something that sounded like +“He ran away” with the “r” and the +“w” both misty. As I did not recognise it, he +wrote it down for me—“Ivanhoe.”</p> +<p>“If you send him your teeth,” continued the +corporal, “he will repair them and return them to you as +good as new.”</p> +<p>“Some of them are getting loose,” I admitted, +“but they wouldn’t come out so easily as you think, +and how should I ever get them in again?—Oh, I see what you +mean, he is a dentist in artificial teeth.”</p> +<p>“Of course. When I say he is not like me, I mean +that he is a man of great learning, really well educated. +He is very clever. You will see him at dinner. I must +not keep you talking, you wish to sleep. There is the bed; +why not lie down? If only we were in my own house at +home—” and so on.</p> +<p>There was the bed, certainly, if I could conquer my +bashfulness and make use of it. Filomena treated the +proposal as quite natural, and put the guitar and the mandoline +on the chest of drawers, though there would have been plenty <!-- +page 192--><a name="page192"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +192</span>of room for them on the bed with me; she and the +corporal prepared to leave the room, and I accepted their +hospitality with excuses which I fancy I made with some realism +because Peppino had kept me up talking half the night. They +went away, I took off my boots, lay down on Filomena’s bed, +and was asleep in a moment.</p> +<p>At about six o’clock the noise of the corporal opening +the door woke me. He hoped he had not disturbed me, he had +been in several times to fetch things and had tried to make no +noise. I had known nothing about it. Ivanhoe had come +and was very hungry. Then he showed me the cupboard +containing the basin and water for me to wash, and told his +fidanzata we were ready for the dinner which she had been cooking +while I slept. He seemed to consider the room as his +instead of hers—but then it was he who was paying the +twenty francs a month. Still I had a sense as though there +was something wrong.</p> +<p>I was introduced to Ivanhoe, and we sat down to +Filomena’s dinner, which was like her embroidery and like +her music—it was very well cooked, but the materials on +which her skill had been expended were not worth cooking, they +ought not to have been bought. The young lady was one of +those artists who think more of treatment than of subject. +The corporal, on the other hand, in the management of his +matrimonial affairs, had chosen a good subject but was treating +it in a way which my English prejudices made me think too +free.</p> +<p>“I have not asked after your cold,” said the +corporal to his brother. “I hope it is +better.”</p> +<p>“It is quite well, thank you,” replied +Ivanhoe. “I have cured it with a remedy that never +fails.”</p> +<p>“I wish you could tell me what it is,” I said.</p> +<p>“Willingly,” said Ivanhoe. “You take a +pail of water and a piece of iron; you make the iron red-hot and +plunge it into the water; at first the water fizzles, but when +the iron is cold the water is still; you put the water into <!-- +page 193--><a name="page193"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +193</span>bottles and drink one every day with your dinner. +It always cures a cold.”</p> +<p>“I must try it,” I said. But I don’t +think I shall.</p> +<p>“Surely you know how to cure colds in England, where you +all live in a perpetual fog and everyone is so rich that they can +afford to make experiments?”</p> +<p>“We have poor people also in England.”</p> +<p>But Ivanhoe knew better. “No,” he said, +smiling indulgently, “that is your English modesty; there +are no poor people in your country.”</p> +<p>“I assure you I have seen plenty. And as for +modesty, I don’t care very much about modesty—not for +myself; I don’t mind it in others.”</p> +<p>“Ah! but you English are so practical.”</p> +<p>“You have great men in England,” said the +corporal. “Chamberlain, Lincoln, you call him il +presidente, and Darwin and—”</p> +<p>“Yes,” interrupted Ivanhoe, “and great +poets, Byron and Milton—il Paradiso Perduto—and that +other one who wrote the drama named—what is his name? +Gladstone.”</p> +<p>“Some of our poets have written drama,” I +said. “What particular drama do you mean?”</p> +<p>“The one—it is from the History of Rome,” +replied Ivanhoe. “A man kills his wife, but I do not +remember his name.”</p> +<p>“Was it Romeo?” suggested the corporal.</p> +<p>“No; not Romeo. This was a black man. I read +that Giovanni Grasso acted it in London.”</p> +<p>“It was Amleto,” said the corporal.</p> +<p>“No, it was not,” replied Ivanhoe. +“And now I remember he was not black; he lived in +Holland.”</p> +<p>“Where is Holland?” inquired the corporal.</p> +<p>“Holland is in the north. The people who live +there are called Aragonesi.”</p> +<p>While Filomena prepared the coffee, I asked the corporal +whether she allowed smoking in her bedroom. She did, so I +gave him a cigarette and he admired my case saying it was <!-- +page 194--><a name="page194"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +194</span>sympathetic. I also gave Ivanhoe a cigarette, but +Filomena did not smoke. There is a prejudice against ladies +smoking in Sicily unless they wish to be considered as belonging +either to the very highest or to the very lowest class, and +Filomena is content to belong to her own class. So she +looked on while we smoked and drank our coffee.</p> +<p>I said: “When we were speaking of English poets just +now, you mentioned a name which we are more accustomed to +associate with politics, the name of Gladstone.”</p> +<p>“Ah! politics!” said Ivanhoe. “You +have now in England a struggle between your House of Lords and +your House of Commons, is it not so?”</p> +<p>I replied that I had heard something about it.</p> +<p>“It is civil war,” said Ivanhoe, “that is, +it would have been civil war some years ago, but people are now +beginning to see that it is intolerable that everyone should not +be allowed to have his own way.”</p> +<p>“I am afraid I do not quite follow you,” I +said.</p> +<p>“Well,” he explained, “it is not +difficult. Your House of Commons is composed entirely of +poor men, so poor that they cannot afford to pay for +legislation. Your House of Lords is rich, and rich people +are egoists and will not pay; so the House of Commons is +angry.”</p> +<p>I did not ask where all the poor Members of the House of +Commons were found in a country that had no poor people; Ivanhoe +was too full of his subject to give me an opportunity.</p> +<p>“If the House of Lords still continues refusing to pay +for legislation there will be no war, but the House of Lords will +be abolished—annihilated.”</p> +<p>“My dear Ivanhoe,” I exclaimed, “what a head +you have for politics!”</p> +<p>“Politics are quite simple if one studies the +newspapers. I know all the politics of Italy, of France, +Germany, England, Argentina, Russia. Don’t you read +the papers?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I read the papers, but I do not find our English +papers—”</p> +<p><!-- page 195--><a name="page195"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +195</span>“Perhaps they are not so well edited as +ours?”</p> +<p>“That may be the explanation,” I agreed. +“They certainly do not state things so clearly and simply +as you do.”</p> +<p>“Surely,” he continued, “you do not approve +of war?”</p> +<p>I replied that war was a “terrible scourge.”</p> +<p>“It is worse,” said Ivanhoe. “It is a +survival of barbarism that men should make a living out of +killing each other. War must be abolished.”</p> +<p>“Will not that be rather difficult?” I +objected.</p> +<p>“Not at all,” he replied. “Soldiers +are the instruments of war. If there were no soldiers there +would be no war; just as if there were no mandolines there would +be no music. And the money we now pay to the soldiers could +then be distributed among the poor—an act pleasing to God +and the saints.”</p> +<p>But this did not suit the corporal who, being a coastguard, +had no sympathy with cutting down the pay of the army.</p> +<p>“It is better as it is,” said the corporal. +“It is better to pay the money to soldiers, who are earning +an honest living, than to pay it to poor people and encourage +them in their idleness.”</p> +<p>“But soldiers are receiving money for making war +possible and that is not earning an honest living. There +must be no more war. Soldiers must be +abolished—obliterated.”</p> +<p>“Obliterated” woke the corporal up +thoroughly. It was all very well to talk about annihilating +the House of Lords, which he had understood to mean demolishing +some palace, but the army was a body of men, and if we were to +begin obliterating them—why, he had friends in the army and +it would never do, because—and so on, with interruptions by +Ivanhoe, until Filomena began to grow restless about washing up +and I began to take my leave. I thanked her for her +charming hospitality and the corporal and Ivanhoe accompanied me +back to the Albergo della Madonna. On the way I said:</p> +<p><!-- page 196--><a name="page196"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +196</span>“Please tell me, Corporal, you say that Filomena +is your fidanzata, but it seems to me you are as good +as—”</p> +<p>“We are not married,” he interrupted, “but +she has consented to become the mother of my children.”</p> +<p>“Do I understand that you have already taken steps to +ensure the attainment of that happy result?”</p> +<p>He said he had, and that she was coming home with him in order +that the baby might be born there. His people, who +understood the sincerity of his nature and the purity of his +motives—</p> +<p>“Ah yes, indeed,” interrupted Ivanhoe, “my +brother has a heart of gold and we are all satisfied with his +conduct.”</p> +<p>“But Filomena’s family,” continued the +corporal, “are suspicious and unfriendly and +dissatisfied. Her adorata mamma and all her aunts and +female cousins wept when she left home, and they are still +weeping. But what else could we do? She was getting +ill after waiting so long and could not—”</p> +<p>“Yes,” interrupted Ivanhoe, “she was +becoming like Ettorina, and my poor brother also was +unhappy.”</p> +<p>They admitted that the situation, though the best possible, +was not ideal. The corporal has to sleep at the caserma and +pretend to the authorities that he is a free bachelor, he can +only visit the mother of his future children in his spare +time. And this regrettable state of things had arisen in +consequence, or partly in consequence, of my respect for law and +order. I did not put it like that to him. I pointed +out that if I had sent the 4000 francs I should have been obliged +to deny myself the pleasure of coming to see him in Sicily. +He concurred and thanked me for my consideration. His +experience of life had already taught him that the same money +cannot be spent on two different objects, and he was grateful to +me for choosing the one which gave him the pleasure of making me +acquainted with his fidanzata. The 4000 francs from some +other source or the government appointment might drop into his +<!-- page 197--><a name="page197"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +197</span>lap at any moment, and at the latest, he could +regularise his position in five years, when he should be forty, +by leaving the service, returning to the carpentry, marrying and +legitimising any children that might have been born.</p> +<p>So I said good-bye to the brothers, wished the corporal every +happiness and gave him my sympathetic cigarette-case as a +non-wedding present, or rather as something that by an enharmonic +change should become transformed into a wedding present on the +solemnisation of his marriage, and he swore to keep it till death +as a ricordo of our friendship.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>Next morning Ivanhoe called upon me and said:</p> +<p>“My dear Signor Enrico, I am in want. Would it be +possible for you to lend me five francs till next +week?”</p> +<p>I replied, “My dear Ivanhoe, it distresses me to hear +you are in want and it lacerates my heart that you should have +made a request which I am compelled to decline.”</p> +<p>“I do not ask for myself. It is for my +children.”</p> +<p>“Would you mind telling me, merely as a matter of idle +curiosity and without prejudice to the question of the five +francs, whether the mother of your children is your wife or your +fidanzata?”</p> +<p>“She is my wife. We have been married thirteen +months.”</p> +<p>“And how many children have you?”</p> +<p>“I have two.”</p> +<p>“Only two!”</p> +<p>“I am expecting another in a few weeks.”</p> +<p>“Bravo. Of course that alters the situation. +Now suppose we settle it this way: Let us pretend that you ask me +to lend you three francs, one for each child; I refuse, but +propose, instead, to give you one franc on the faith of the new +baby.”</p> +<p>“Do you mean you abandon all hope of ever seeing the one +franc again?”</p> +<p>“I do.”</p> +<p><!-- page 198--><a name="page198"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +198</span>“Make it two francs and I agree.”</p> +<p>“No, Ivanhoe. One franc is quite enough for an +unborn baby.”</p> +<p>“If you think so.”</p> +<p>So I gave him one franc.</p> +<p>“I am very much obliged to you,” he said, +“and now there is one more favour I wish to ask of +you. Will you hold the new baby at the baptismal font and +thus do me the honour of becoming my compare?”</p> +<p>This did not suit me at all. I replied: “My dear +Ivanhoe, let us forget all we have said since you told me you +were expecting another baby, let us return to your original +request and here—take four more francs. It will be +better for me in the end than if I become your +compare.”</p> +<p>“If you think so,” said Ivanhoe.</p> +<p>I had no doubt about it, so I gave him four more francs and +abandoned all hope of ever seeing them again; but I got my +money’s worth, or part of it, in the shape of a registered +letter soon after my return to London; in English the letter runs +thus, and I was brutal enough to leave it unanswered:</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Castellinaria</span>.</p> +<p>My most esteemed friend, Signor Enrico!</p> +<p>First of all I must inform you that my health is excellent and +I hope that yours also is good. I wish you all the +happiness that it is possible for anyone to have in this world +and I would that I could transport my presence into London so +that I might be with you for a few days and thus augment your +domestic joy. But there is one thing wanting—I allude +to money. So many misfortunes have happened to me in this +sad year that I have not the means to undertake a long +journey. I should be much obliged to you if you would +kindly forward me 300 francs, of which I am in urgent need as I +have to pay a debt. This money I will repay you immediately +the next time I have the pleasure of seeing you in Castellinaria +or, if you prefer it, I will promise to pay you in seven months +from this date by sending the money through the post; it is for +you to choose which course would suit you <!-- page 199--><a +name="page199"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 199</span>best. +You will find in me an honest man. You will be doing me a +favour for which I shall be grateful all the rest of my life, for +you will be extricating me from a position of extreme +discomfort. The Padre Eterno will bless your philanthropic +and humane action and I shall have a memory sculptured on my +heart as long as I live.</p> +<p>I will ever pray for your health and for that of all your +family. The favour I am now asking I should like you to +grant during the week after you receive this letter. I will +not write more except to say that, relying on the goodness of +your heart, I thank you cordially and await your favourable +reply.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">With infinite salutations,<br /> +I subscribe myself yours for life,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Ivanhoe</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<h2><!-- page 203--><a name="page203"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 203</span>EARTHQUAKE ECHOES</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII<br /> +TOTÒ CARBONARO</h3> +<p>One morning, in the autumn of 1908, I was sitting in front of +one of the windows of the albergo looking out across the harbour +at the mountains of Calabria, waiting for coffee and thinking of +<i>Omertà</i>. I had been spending a week in Messina +with Giovanni Grasso and his company of Sicilian Players, and +<i>Omertà</i> was the play they had performed the +preceding evening. I remembered how at the end Giovanni had +staggered in mortally wounded and refused to give the name of his +murderer—though the audience guessed who it must have +been—and then how he had given his knife to Pasqualino, his +young brother, and with his last breath had spoken these words; +“Per Don Totò, quando avrai diciotto anni”; +and I had left the theatre wishing I could see Giovanni as +Pasqualino grown up and executing the vendetta. Giovanni +now uses a revolver as being a nobler weapon, but when I was with +him in Messina it was a knife.</p> +<p>The big waiter brought the coffee and stood on my left, the +little waiter followed him, and stood on my right. During +the week I had often seen this boy who was not yet a real waiter, +he was learning his business by waiting on the waiters, and +hitherto I had respected the convention by which I was supposed +to be unaware of his existence, except that when he had made way +for me on the stairs we had exchanged greetings. I said to +the big waiter:</p> +<p>“How old is this little fellow?”</p> +<p>“Thirteen.”</p> +<p>I glanced at him and saw by his smile of expansive <!-- page +204--><a name="page204"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +204</span>friendliness that he was pleased to be the subject of +our conversation.</p> +<p>“What do you call him?”</p> +<p>“Totò.”</p> +<p>I took my knife off the breakfast table and imitating +Giovanni, as well as I could, handed it to the big waiter +saying:</p> +<p>“For Don Totò when he shall be eighteen years +old.”</p> +<p>This was perhaps wrong, it was certainly risky to play with +edged tools in this way in a country where one ought not to give +a handkerchief as a ricordo lest one should be supposed to be +intending to pass the tears it contains. But I assumed he +had seen the play and, although the quotation was not exact, +expected him to recognise it, instead of which he was furious +with me:</p> +<p>“You are not to do that. Totò is a very +good boy and I shall not accept the knife.”</p> +<p>He said this so sternly that I made up my mind he could know +nothing about the theatre—he must be a foreigner who had +yet to learn that a Sicilian child’s confidence is not +destroyed by a mere threat to stick a knife into him, the idea +that anyone is going to hurt him is too preposterous to be taken +seriously. Or perhaps he had invested all his imagination +in superstitious securities. Or perhaps I had acted better +than I knew and had seriously alarmed him. But I had not +imitated Giovanni’s realism so closely as to deceive +Totò. I looked at him. He was beaming all over +his face as he shook his head and said:</p> +<p>“I am not afraid.”</p> +<p>The big waiter scowled and went away, abandoning the reckless +child to his fate. Totò put his hand on my arm to +attract my attention and emphasise what he was going to say:</p> +<p>“When you are at home, please will you send me a +postcard with a picture of London?”</p> +<p>“Certainly, my boy; I’ll send you as many as you +like.”</p> +<p><!-- page 205--><a name="page205"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +205</span>This is all the conversation I had with Totò +before I left Messina, which I did that day, but we have +corresponded. On returning to London I sent him a card with +a view of Oxford Circus full of traffic and, not knowing his full +name, addressed it:</p> +<p style="text-align: right">A Don Totò,<br /> +Piccolo Cameriere all’ Albergo Trinacria,<br /> +Messina.</p> +<p>He replied at once, thanking me profusely for the beautiful +view of what he called I Quattro Canti di Londra and promising to +send me some prickly pears as soon as they were at their best, +having heard that they do not mature in London. Presently I +sent him another post-card secretly hoping he would show them +both to the stupid big waiter. He replied at once and, +among other things, asked if I should like him to come to +London.</p> +<p>I never like them to come to London unless they are sure of +some settled employment, and even then I would rather see them in +their native surroundings; so I replied:</p> +<blockquote><p>No, Totò. Here we already have too +many Italians, Austrians, Swiss and Germans. They come +because they believe that the streets of London are paved with +gold, but too many of them find our streets guttered by the tears +of foreign waiters who have failed to find work. You had +much better stay where you are like a good boy, and I will come +to Messina and see you next autumn.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Then a basket arrived containing the prickly pears in a state +of pulp, exuding juice from every pore because he had not +attempted to pack them, and accompanied by a card wishing me a +Merry Christmas.</p> +<p>Early in the morning of the 28th December, 1908, Messina was +destroyed by an earthquake. The newspapers particularly +mentioned that the Albergo Trinacria had fallen, killing everyone +who was sleeping there that night. I chanced a card to +Totò asking whether he had escaped. On the 6th +January I received a letter from him; he had <!-- page 206--><a +name="page206"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 206</span>evidently +not received my card, which was returned to me about eight months +later. This is a translation of Totò’s +letter:</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Catania</span>,<br /> +1 <i>Jan.</i>, 1909.</p> +<p>Egregious Signor Enrico,</p> +<p>You must have already heard of the destruction of +Messina. By a miracle I am saved, also my family, except +that I do not yet know the fate of two of my sisters, my father, +three nephews and one brother-in-law. My father was at +Reggio Calabria, which was also destroyed. The Albergo +Trinacria was not merely shaken down, it was also burnt. It +was my good fortune not to be on guard that night in the hotel, +otherwise I too should have died. The few who have escaped +have been brought to Catania naked, without a soldo. We are +sleeping in the Municipio, on the floor, with a rug, a piece of +bread and cheese and a glass of wine which the Municipio gives +us. They have made me a present of a shirt because, as the +earthquake was at five in the morning, everyone was asleep and +they escaped just as they were. You may imagine in what a +condition I find myself, in what misery, it is such that you will +excuse my posting this letter without a stamp, but I have not a +centesimo to send you the news of the disaster of Messina. +On the post-card which you sent me you speak of coming in the +autumn, but there will be no more coming to Messina.</p> +<p>Enough! I could tell you in detail of many misfortunes +that have overtaken me, but I have not the courage to write +more.</p> +<p>I send you my respects. You will pardon me for being +obliged to post this without a stamp.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Totò</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>He gave me an address in Catania to which I wrote, and he +replied 24th January from Naples, where he and his family had +been taken.</p> +<p>Then he left off writing and I thought I had heard the last of +him. In the spring of 1910 I went to Sicily again, and +within an hour of arriving at my hotel in Catania one of the +waiters came up to me and said in a friendly way:</p> +<p><!-- page 207--><a name="page207"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +207</span>“Good day, sir.”</p> +<p>“Good day,” I replied, “but I do not +recognise you.”</p> +<p>He said, “Totò. Messina.”</p> +<p>“It is not possible! You were only thirteen at +Messina, and how old are you now?”</p> +<p>“Eighteen.”</p> +<p>“How have you managed to become five years older in +eighteen months? Is it an effect of the +earthquake?”</p> +<p>“I was sixteen at Messina.”</p> +<p>“Then why did that stupid big waiter say you were only +thirteen?”</p> +<p>“Ah! well, he is dead now.”</p> +<p>I thought of the fate of Ananias and said: “Poor +fellow! Do you remember how angry he was when I wanted to +give him my knife and said those words from +<i>Omertà</i>?”</p> +<p>“Yes, but he was not really angry with you, he was only +pretending.”</p> +<p>“No, Totò! Not really? Do you mean he +was acting?”</p> +<p>“Yes. I thought you understood. He was +always like that, full of fun, not stupid at all. He was a +good man and very kind to me.” And poor +Totò’s eyes filled with tears.</p> +<p>So it was someone else who had been stupid, and I left off +thinking of Ananias and began to think of those eighteen upon +whom the Tower of Siloam fell.</p> +<p>Totò told me that he was sleeping at home when the +earthquake woke him up, and that he and the others in his house +ran out naked as they were into the street and saw the house +fall; they were only just in time. His father, who was in +Reggio, was saved, but one of his sisters was killed with her +husband and three children.</p> +<p>This is all the conversation I had with Totò in +Catania; next day on my inquiring for him they told me he had +caught cold and had not come to the Albergo. I left without +seeing him again and next time I was in Catania they told me he +had gone away and they did not know his address. Possibly +he has disappeared for ever, but it is <!-- page 208--><a +name="page208"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 208</span>more +probable that, like other meteoric bodies, he will cross my path +again some day.</p> +<h3>TURIDDU BALISTRIERI</h3> +<p>Among the members of Giovanni’s company whose +acquaintance I made during my week in Messina were two ladies who +acted under their maiden names, viz. Marinella Bragaglia and +Carolina Balistrieri; the first is married to Vittorio Marazzi +and the second to Corrado Bragaglia, Corrado being the brother of +Marinella. I also often saw in the theatre Turiddu +(Salvatore) Balistrieri, brother of Carolina and therefore +brother-in-law to Corrado and brother-in-law by marriage (or +whatever the correct expression may be and, if there is no +correct expression, then compare di parentela) to Vittorio and +Marinella Marazzi. He was just over eleven, not a member of +the company but, being at school in Messina, his sister had taken +him to stay with her for the week, and we became great +friends. I was thinking of him when writing about Micio +buying chocolate and story-books at Castellinaria in Chapter +XVIII of <i>Diversions in Sicily</i>. When Giovanni and the +company departed from Messina to continue their tour, Turiddu and +his younger brother, Gennaro, remained in Messina with their +professor and, as their mother, Signora Balistrieri, was touring +with another company in South America, they had no home to go to +for Christmas and remained with the professor for the +holidays.</p> +<p>On the 27th December, Giovanni and his company, after being in +Egypt and in Russia, arrived at Udine, north of Venice. +They heard nothing of the earthquake until the evening of the +29th December, about forty hours after the event, when the news +reached them in the theatre during the performance of <i>La +Figlia di Jorio</i>. The next day Giovanni and six of the +company started for Messina; they wanted to ascertain for +themselves the extent of the <!-- page 209--><a +name="page209"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 209</span>disaster +and whether the earthquake had affected Catania, where most of +their relations and friends were. Among the six were +Corrado Bragaglia and Vittorio Marazzi, whose particular object +was to find out what had happened to Turiddu and Gennaro. +When the company came to London in the spring of 1910 Corrado +gave me an account of their adventures. They arrived in +Naples where they were delayed a day, which they spent in meeting +fugitives, but they heard no news of the boys. They reached +Messina on the 1st January and, taking a basket of provisions and +medicines, started for the professor’s house, treading on +dead bodies as they walked through the falling rain and fearing +lest another shock might come or that at any moment some already +shattered house might fall on them. The professor’s +apartments were on the first and second floors of one side of a +courtyard that stood between a street and a torrent; the front +doors of the different apartments opened into the court as in a +college building; the professor’s side of the court was +nearest the torrent and did not fall, but the other three sides +of the court fell and the houses on the opposite side of the +street fell, so that the debris made it difficult to approach the +street door of the court and still more difficult afterwards to +approach the doors of the different sets of apartments.</p> +<p>They found the landlord of the house, and he showed them that +the professor’s part of the house had not fallen and told +them that the professor and his family had escaped and, he +believed, had been taken to Naples or Catania, or—he did +not know where. This was satisfactory, at least they no +longer thought the children were buried in the ruins, but it did +not give much information as to their whereabouts. They +went to the station and got a permission to go to Catania. +The train was crowded with fugitives, some wounded, some unhurt, +and during the journey a passenger gave birth to a baby.</p> +<p>In Catania they asked of Madama Ciccia (i.e. Signora Grasso, +Giovanni’s mother), who would certainly have <!-- page +210--><a name="page210"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +210</span>heard if the children had been seen in the city, but +she knew nothing. They sought out the boys’ +grandmother, the mother of Signora Balistrieri, but she was not +at home, she had deserted her house for fear of another +earthquake and had been sleeping in the piazza. They +inquired at the hospital and at the institutions where fugitives +had been taken. They advertised. They actually found +a professor from Messina with pupils, but it was not the one they +wanted. They went to Siracusa, to Malta, to Palermo, to +Trapani; they got no information and returned to Catania. +Then they were struck with remorse for not having entered the +professor’s house in Messina—they had only spoken to +the landlord—the boys might be buried there after all, +alive or dead. They returned to Messina and entered the +house; it was all in confusion; they looked through it, but found +no trace of the children.</p> +<p>All this took them seven days, during which they scarcely ate +and scarcely slept. They knew that if the boys had really +been taken to Naples they were probably safe, and now they went +there considering that they had done their best with +Sicily. In Naples they inquired at the official places, at +the hospitals and at the offices of the newspapers where they +could see the lists of names before they were published. +They found nothing and their thoughts went back to Messina; they +wondered whether the children might perhaps have been crushed by +a falling house in the streets, and whether they ought to +return. In the evening they went to a caffè to read +the lists, and by chance took up a Roman paper. They could +hardly believe their eyes when they read the names of Turiddu and +Gennaro among those who had been taken to the Instituto Vittoria +Colonna in Naples. They went there at once, but it was +already late at night and the place was shut. Unable to +think of eating or sleeping they walked about the streets till +six in the morning, when they returned and were admitted. +They stated their business, inquired for the children, produced +photographs and, after a little delay, Turiddu <!-- page 211--><a +name="page211"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 211</span>and Gennaro +came running to them naked. It took some days of red tape, +including a legal act whereby Corrado constituted himself their +second father, before they were allowed to remove the boys. +At last on the 11th January they took possession of them and +dressed them in the street with clothes they had bought. +Corrado had telegraphed to his wife and to the other relations, +and they left Naples and rejoined the company at Udine, where +they arrived on the 14th. One of the actors when he saw the +children fainted and Corrado was ill for days with a fever.</p> +<p>Turiddu wrote to me from Naples to tell me he was saved, and +by August, 1909, when I went to Sicily again, he had left +Giovanni and the company and returned to Naples, where I found +him and Gennaro with the professor and his family, living in two +rooms of an establishment where emigrants are put to wait for +their ships to take them to America. They told me their +experiences. In Messina the family had consisted of the +professor, his wife, his niece (a studentessa), Turiddu and +Gennaro with two of their school-fellows, one named Peppino, son +of a well-to-do dealer in iron bedsteads, and another named +Luigi, son of a well-to-do orange-merchant, who had gone to visit +his uncle for Christmas. There was also a servant girl who +had gone that night to stay with her people. The parents of +Peppino and Luigi were both killed in their houses; fortunately +for Peppino he had not gone home or he would probably have been +killed. Luigi also escaped because the house of his uncle +did not fall or, if it fell, it did not kill him. The +servant, who had gone home, was killed.</p> +<p>They puzzled me by their attempts to explain why the +professor’s side of the courtyard did not fall. It +seems it was partly because, being near the torrent, it had been +built more strongly than the other three sides; that was not all, +there was also something about a Japanese gentleman who had +studied earthquakes at home and who had hurried to Messina, +visited the spot and declared that the direction of the shock was +from (say) east to west, had it been from <!-- page 212--><a +name="page212"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 212</span>west to +east the side near the torrent would certainly have fallen. +It may have been north to south—my thoughts had wandered +again to the Tower of Siloam. Turiddu, however, had a +reason for not being killed in the earthquake; he is naturally +lucky because he was born with a caul; he keeps most of it at +home and speaks of it as his cammisedda, which is Sicilian for +camicetta, his little shirt. He carries a small piece of it +in his watch-case, and offered to give it to me as a ricordo, but +I thought he had better keep it all; it cannot be lucky to give +away any of one’s luck.</p> +<p>While Turiddu was with Giovanni and the company touring in +North Italy, he wrote, by desire of his professor, a sort of +holiday task about the earthquake. He gave it to me +afterwards, when I saw him in Naples, and I have translated +it. The passages in square brackets are additions I have +made from information the family gave me in Naples.</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">SUBJECT</p> +<p>Describe all that you saw before and after the earthquake.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">DESCRIPTION</p> +<p>It was an ugly winter evening and the last day of the +Christmas holidays. I was playing with nuts with my +companions. About six o’clock we dined and, after we +had finished, we began to play at Sette e Mezzo Reale [a game of +cards]. We re-charged the acetylene lamps, for we intended +to sit up late. The professor opened [the window and went +out on] the balcony to see what the weather was like; observing +that the sky was frightful and of a reddish colour, he said to +his wife:</p> +<p>“My dear Nunzia, listen to these few words and bear them +in mind: This is a fatal night, it is a horrible +night.”</p> +<p>His wife asked, “What are you saying?”</p> +<p>Then the professor replied, “Either we shall have some +kind of storm or there will be a great earthquake or a +deluge.” To these words we paid no attention, but +went on with our game.</p> +<p>At one o’clock after midnight we extinguished the +acetylene gas and went to bed, where we immediately fell +asleep.</p> +<p><!-- page 213--><a name="page213"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +213</span>At half-past five after midnight there came a great +earthquake. I and my companions began to cry and recommend +ourselves to God who can save from every calamity.</p> +<p>After the earthquake was over we dressed in haste and frenzy +and went out [into the courtyard], but we could not pass the +front door [into the street] because it was blocked with +ruins. Presently our professor crawled out through a hole +and we followed him.</p> +<p>In the piazza we saw sights that tore our hearts, and we wept +as we thought of those poor unhappy children left without parents +or relations. And we thanked God who had saved us from such +a great disaster. Every few moments there came more shocks, +and there were we weeping and recommending ourselves to the +Lord.</p> +<p>As day broke we saw many wretched creatures being dragged out +from under the heaps of rubbish and being put on carts or laid on +the ground.</p> +<p>We began to feel hungry and begged our professor to buy us +some bread, but he replied:</p> +<p>“There is no place where bread can be bought, we must +therefore take courage, climb back into the house and get a few +nuts.”</p> +<p>[This re-entering the house was dangerous because it might +have fallen when they were inside, but they managed it in safety +and returned with some maccaroni and bread, also some nuts and +two sticks of dried figs which were there for the festa of +Christmas.]</p> +<p>We began to eat the food and, seeing some children near us who +also were hungry, were moved to compassion for their condition +and gave them each something.</p> +<p>In this way we supported life for two days, but on the third +day the food was finished.</p> +<p>[During these two days they were in the ruins of a +fish-market, which was better than being out in the open, but not +much because the roof was broken. They only had such +clothes as they had snatched up in their haste and these were wet +through and saturated with mud up to the knees. They caught +colds and the professor was ill for months.]</p> +<p>All day long, bodies were being extricated from the ruins and +we could hardly bear the stench; to make matters worse it was +raining, the houses were on fire, the air was heavy <!-- page +214--><a name="page214"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +214</span>with smoke and there were constant shocks of +earthquake. It seemed like the end of the world.</p> +<p>On the third day I went with our professor to the port to +inquire whether the survivors would be taken to Naples. The +captain replied “Yes.” We returned to the +market and our path lay among the wounded and the dead.</p> +<p>When we had reached shelter our professor said:</p> +<p>“Let us take courage and return into the house to bring +out some clothes and linen and the certificates of my +niece.” We went to the house, but the door was jammed +by reason of the earthquake. While we were shaking it, +there came another shock. We remembered another door, which +we opened, we went in and found the certificates and brought away +all such other things as we thought likely to be useful for the +moment and gradually carried them down. Our +professor’s niece made the things up into bundles and put +them on our shoulders and so, passing the heaps of dead bodies, +of rubbish and ruins, we went to the railway station.</p> +<p>Here they made us get into a second-class carriage, which we +supposed would start for Catania, and we had nothing to eat but +oranges, which were given us by a soldier.</p> +<p>[It must have been while they were in this carriage that +Corrado and Vittorio went to the station and took train for +Catania, passing quite close to them and not seeing them. +There were twelve waggon-loads of oranges which had come from +Catania before the disaster in the course of trade, and orders +were given that they were to be distributed among the +survivors. Thus the waggons were emptied and people could +be put into them.]</p> +<p>Opposite us was a waggon full of soldiers and sailors. +Our professor’s niece called a soldier and begged him not +to forget us. He immediately brought us three loaves of +bread, five flasks of wine, three tins of preserved meat and some +sausage.</p> +<p>Imagine our happiness when we saw that meat after those days +of hunger! We drank the wine at once because we had nowhere +else to put it and the soldiers wanted their flasks back. +We were eating oranges all the time, because they gave us +plenty.</p> +<p>After we had been in this waggon two days, one of the +railway-men told us that there had come a German steamer which +would take us to Naples. We took with us some bread, <!-- +page 215--><a name="page215"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +215</span>some oranges and a little salame which we had over, and +went to the port, where, fortunately, we found a boat which took +us to the steamer.</p> +<p>At five minutes past eleven on the sixth day as the steamer +departed from Messina, the professor, his wife and his niece +began to cry.</p> +<p>The German sailors prepared bread and also basins of soup with +pasta in it, and when the bell sounded at noon they distributed +the food among us all.</p> +<p>When we had eaten it, we went below to see whether the women +required anything.</p> +<p>At half-past four they gave us soup with rice in it and plenty +of meat. Then the captain ordered that the fugitives should +go below. We were taken into the second-class cabin which +was set apart for the women and children.</p> +<p>Next day when we arrived at Naples they would not let us +disembark till we had had coffee, after which we all collected +and were landed in boats. First, however, they made all the +men descend into one boat and in another boat all the women.</p> +<p>When we had disembarked at Naples they at once wanted all our +names and then took us to an institution called “Vittoria +Colonna,” where in order to restore us we were each given a +good cup of coffee and milk.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">this little +description</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">of</span><br /> +28 <span class="smcap">december</span> 1908<br /> +<span class="smcap">written at bologna</span> 27. 1. 09<br /> +<span class="smcap">is presented to</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">mr. henry festing jones</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">who will preserve it as a lasting +record</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">of</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">turiddu balistrieri</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">fugitive from messina</span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>While they were in Messina the children and the niece slept at +night, but the professor and his wife did not sleep at all, and +for two of the days the professor and his wife ate nothing and +drank nothing. They were able to collect drops of rain +water, especially when they were in the railway carriage where +they had a roof, and they sometimes <!-- page 216--><a +name="page216"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 216</span>collected a +little wood and made a fire. Earthquake shocks were +continually occurring.</p> +<p>The professor is also an imbalsamatore and, as an example of +his skill, gave me a stuffed bird which I was to take to +London. He said it was a kind of quail, a bird that reposes +near Messina when migrating. His niece, the studentessa, +gave me as a ricordo a pin-cushion; on one side it has an +advertisement of a shop in Messina and on the other a picture of +a lady trying on a new garter, which has been bought at the shop +and which fits perfectly to the delight of her maid and the +astonishment of her grandmother. They had saved these +things after the earthquake. One does not look a gift-horse +in the mouth, but I have sometimes wondered whether the +buffo’s Cold Dawn had followed the professor and the +studentessa in their flight and whispered to them that they had +saved the wrong objects. Still, a pin-cushion is always +useful.</p> +<h3>RAILWAY PORTERS</h3> +<p>Some years ago the station porter who attended to my luggage +at Messina gave me his name and address, saying that if I would +send him a post-card next time I came, he would meet me and look +after me. Since then I have passed through Messina once, +and sometimes twice, a year and he has always met me. I +wrote to him from London after the earthquake inquiring whether +he was alive or dead, but he did not receive my card till nearly +eight months later, after it had been returned to me and I had +sent it to him again. I had in the meantime heard, in an +indirect way, that he was one of the station porters who had +survived. In the August following the earthquake I sent him +a card to say I was coming by steamer from Naples, and he was in +a little boat in the port to meet me.</p> +<p>There was a difference in his manner and a new look in his +eyes. When he had been talking some time, I mentioned <!-- +page 217--><a name="page217"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +217</span>it, and he admitted that he felt different since the +earthquake. His house fell and he lay buried in the ruins +with nothing to eat or drink and seriously wounded. A +friend came looking for him and after three days he was +extricated, restored to life and properly taken care of. +But his wife and child were killed and his home destroyed. +He has been born again naked into the world, no wonder there is a +strange look in his eyes. We were joined by his cousin, +another porter, who was seven days in the ruins, starved into +unconsciousness. When the soldiers rescued him they thought +he was dead, but they took him where the doctors gradually +brought him back to life. He did not mind the dying after +it had once set in, everything gave way to the indolent pleasure +of irresponsible drifting, but the restoration was a difficult +and exhausting business. He will be thought to be dead +again some day, and will be allowed to continue his sleep in +peace without any troublesome awakening.</p> +<p>I looked in the eyes of the men who were hanging about among +the temporary wooden sheds in the piazza in front of the station, +and saw in many of them the expression that was in my +porter’s eyes, the expression that betrays those who are +the figli del terremoto, those who have been born again with the +earthquake for their second mother, and I remembered that the +same expression was in the eyes of Turiddu’s professor in +Naples. I had supposed it to be normal with the professor, +but it was the first time I had seen him; now I understood that +it was not there before. They have not all this look. +Turiddu has not got it, nor has my porter’s cousin. +The professor is sixty-two, Turiddu is only twelve and was able +to sleep. My porter is about forty-two, his cousin is not +yet thirty. Again, the professor had the responsibility of +his party; Turiddu had none. My porter has lost his wife +and child; his cousin is unmarried.</p> +<p>These two porters told me a great deal that I had read in the +papers in England; to hear it from them on the spot <!-- page +218--><a name="page218"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +218</span>made it more real, and especially to see their gestures +describing how the earthquake took the houses and worried them as +a terrier worries a rat. Few houses were not wrecked. +I pointed to one which I knew to be the Palazzo dei Carabinieri +at a corner of a street leading out of the station piazza, but my +porter replied:</p> +<p>“You are looking at a corner of it and can only see two +walls. The other walls and the floors have fallen. If +the shutters were open you would see the sky where the rooms +ought to be.”</p> +<p>At the other corner of the street used to stand the Albergo di +Francia, where I stayed once when all the other hotels were full +because the wind was so strong that the ferry-boat could not get +out of the harbour to take the travellers across the +straits. The albergo was lying in a heap on the ground; in +its fall it had crushed and killed and buried the young landlord, +Michele;—“God rest his soul in heaven, so +merry!”</p> +<p>I uttered some banality about their having passed through a +terrible time. They accepted my remark as a final summing +up and said it was better not to talk about it. It was +evidently a relief to them to talk of something else.</p> +<p>Before Messina can be rebuilt on its old site, the ruins must +be cleared away and the disputes about the boundaries must be +settled, and this will take time. Meanwhile the people are +living in the wooden bungalows of a New Messina which is growing +up outside the old town. I spent two days there in the +spring of 1910 and again in 1911. The Viale San Martino is +the principal street. There are hotels, bookshops, +sweet-shops, tobacconists, jewellers, butchers, restaurants with +tables ready spread, and the lottery offices are open. Most +of the huts have no upper storey and some are no bigger than half +a dozen sentry boxes knocked into one. It is very +dusty. The boys are crying papers up and down the street, +there are barbers’ saloni and shops with silver-topped +canes. The earthquake <!-- page 219--><a +name="page219"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 219</span>seems to be +forgotten in the intensity of the bubbling life. As I +passed the Municipio in a side street, I saw a wedding party +going in. One evening I went to the theatre and saw +<i>Feudalismo</i> with Giovanni Grasso, a homonymous cousin of +the great Giovanni, in the principal part and Turiddu’s +mother, Signora Balistrieri, as one of the women.</p> +<p>The first time I was in Messina after the earthquake all this +was only beginning and many of the people were living in railway +waggons in the sidings, of which few now remain. It was +strange to see rows of railway carriages with curtains to the +windows and some with steps up to the door and a little terrace +outside with creepers growing over it. The cabins and the +waggons are supposed to be safe, because they would not crush +their tenants in another earthquake. But they do not +seriously fear another earthquake; Messina has been so thoroughly +destroyed that it must now be the turn of some other town.</p> +<p>I replied: “Yes, the Veil of S. Agata preserved Catania +this time, but it may desert her next time as the Letter of the +Madonna deserted you last winter. By the by, what has +become of that miraculous Letter? Was it destroyed or did +anyone save it?”</p> +<p>They did not know and muttered something about +“stupidagini,” and perhaps there will be no need to +trouble oneself with any such thoughts when one is living the +life after death. Later on, in another part of the island, +I asked a dignitary of the Church, who had not been through the +earthquake, what had become of the Madonna’s Letter and he +assured me that it had been preserved. I had pretty well +made up my mind that this would be his answer before putting the +question; but if the earthquake had destroyed Girgenti and I had +asked him about the letter from the Devil, which is said to be +preserved in the cathedral there, I should have expected him to +tell me that that letter had not survived the shock.</p> +<h3><!-- page 220--><a name="page220"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 220</span>GIUSEPPE PLATANIA</h3> +<p>In Catania I saw my friend Lieutenant Giuseppe Platania, who +was quartered in Messina during the winter of 1908-9. He +was away for Christmas and returned about midnight on the 27th +December and went to bed at two in the morning on the 28th. +He was awakened by the falling of a picture, which hit him. +He guessed the reason, covered his head with the pillows and lay +still, waiting. He had to wait fifty-seven seconds—at +least many people told me the earthquake lasted fifty-seven +seconds, but the recording instruments were broken, so it is not +certain how long it lasted. When the room left off rocking, +Giuseppe put out his hand for the match-box, but the table was no +longer by his bedside. He heard cries for help, and a man +who was sleeping in the next room came with a light, then he saw +that the floor of his room had fallen, but not under his bed, +which was in a corner. He and the man with the light +managed to get to the window and let themselves down into a side +street, but they saw no way out because the exit was closed by +the fallen houses. Their window was on the first floor and +they climbed back into the house, helped another man who was +there, got themselves some clothes and returned into the side +street. Here they felt no better off and were afraid of the +houses falling on them, but Giuseppe’s soldier servant, +Giulio Giuli, a contadino of Nocera, appeared among them. +He had come to look for his master and crept through the ruins +into the side street. He told them that Messina was +destroyed, which they would not believe; everyone seems to have +supposed at first that the earthquake had only damaged his own +house. Giulio showed them the way out, and so they got into +the town and realised the extent of the disaster. If Giulio +had not come, Giuseppe and his friends would probably have been +destroyed by more houses falling into their narrow street before +they could have found a way out.</p> +<p>Giuseppe had changed his bedroom about ten days <!-- page +221--><a name="page221"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +221</span>previously. The house he used to live in was +completely destroyed, he showed me a photograph of its +ruins. His mother and his brother Giovanni, in Catania, +heard of the disaster, but could get no particulars because +communication was broken. Giovanni went to Messina to +inquire for his brother, not knowing where his new room was, but +he knew the number of his regiment. He stopped a soldier in +the street who was wearing the number in his cap and who told him +where to find Giuseppe. In the meantime Giulio had walked +about fifteen miles to Alì, whence he took the train to +Catania, told the mother her son was safe, and returned to +Messina to help in the work of rescuing victims.</p> +<p>Giuseppe directed his soldiers in the rescue work and +afterwards received a medal “Per speciali +benemerenze.” While at work they saw a hand among the +ruins and began to dig round it, all the time in fear lest the +disturbing of the rubbish might make matters worse for the victim +and for themselves. The hand belonged to a woman whose head +had been protected by being under a wooden staircase. She +showed no sign of life and it was already four days since the +disaster. They wetted her lips with marsala and poured some +into her mouth and thus restored her. Giuseppe told me that +nothing made more impression on him than seeing this +woman’s breast begin to heave as life returned.</p> +<p>The soldiers had to shoot the horses and dogs for eating the +corpses, and the thieves for pilfering. The horses had +escaped from their stables, which were broken by the earthquake, +and the dogs had come in from the country. And besides the +pilfering they told me of other things the doing of which had +better be ignored by those who seriously cultivate the belief +that civilisation and education have already so transformed human +nature that all restraints may be safely removed, things which, +nevertheless, were done by human beings in Messina while the +houses were tottering during the closing days of 1908 and the +opening weeks of 1909. I inquired whether the townspeople +were themselves <!-- page 222--><a name="page222"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 222</span>guilty of these horrors and they +said: No. The bad things were done by people who came into +the city from the country, like the dogs, and across the straits +from Calabria to take advantage of the catastrophe. As my +friend Peppino Fazio in Catania put it:</p> +<p>“The earthquake was very judiciously managed; it killed +only the wicked townspeople; it did not touch the good ones, they +all escaped.”</p> +<p>Giuseppe’s brother, Giovanni Platania, is a scientific +man and a professor; he went often from Catania to Messina during +the early part of 1909 to study the behaviour of the sea during +the earthquake—the maremoto. He has embodied the +results of his researches in an opuscolo on the subject <i>Il +Maremoto dello Stretto di Messina del 28 Dicembre</i> 1908 +(Modena. Società Tipografica Modenese, 1909). +It took him twelve hours to return to Catania from one of his +first visits; the journey in ordinary times is performed by the +express in two hours and a half. There was no charge for +the tickets because it was the policy of the authorities to empty +the town; in this way malefactors who escaped from the prison got +easily away. In the train was a woman who talked, saying +that no one could blame her for travelling to Catania free, +especially as she had not deserved to be put in prison—she +had been put there for nothing. There was also a man who +did not exactly say he was a thief, but he informed his +fellow-travellers that the bundle he had with him had been +confided to his care by the padrone of his house. There was +no reason why he should have told them this, no one had asked him +about his bundle, and Giovanni drew his own conclusions.</p> +<h3>GIULIO ADAMO</h3> +<p>In Trapani I talked with another friend, a doctor, Giulio +Adamo of Calatafimi. Communication was broken and it was +not until the evening of the 29th that they began to <!-- page +223--><a name="page223"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +223</span>know in Trapani that there had been an earthquake in +Messina. Giulio went with others by train to Milazzo and +the train could go no further. They continued the journey +by boat from Milazzo to Messina, where he arrived on the +30th. When they approached the city and saw the row of +houses facing the harbour where the Albergo Trinacria was, they +thought the disaster could not have been so very great. But +it was only the facciata that was standing, the houses behind +were down. There was great disorder, heaps of bodies, no +water to drink because the pipes were broken, and for the three +days Giulio was there they only had bread from Palermo and the +oranges which were in the railway-waggons.</p> +<h3>CECÈ LUNA</h3> +<p>In Palermo I talked with another doctor, Cecè +(Francesco) Luna, of Trapani, whose acquaintance I made many +years ago on Monte Erice when he was there as a student in +villeggiatura. In September, 1909, I found him in the +children’s hospital at Palermo. As soon as news of +the earthquake reached the city, the <i>Regina Margherita</i> was +fitted out to help the wounded and Cecè went in her among +the doctors. When they arrived at Messina, they could +neither enter the harbour nor take anyone on board because they +had to obey orders. It was raining, the sea was rough and +covered with little boats full of fugitives, some unhurt, some +wounded. One boat contained a young man holding an umbrella +over his mother, who was wounded and lying on two tables.</p> +<p>“I am strong. I can wait seven or eight days +without food, it is not for me, it is for my mother.”</p> +<p>He cried and prayed till the orders came and she was taken on +board.</p> +<p>Cecè, who was put in charge of the taking on board of +the fugitives, ordered that the wounded were to be taken <!-- +page 224--><a name="page224"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +224</span>first. He was somewhat surprised that this order +was attended to; it was so, however, the wounded were taken in +without confusion; but afterwards among the unwounded there was +confusion. There was a boy who tried to get on board first, +Cecè pulled the boy’s cap off and threw it away, +intending it to fall in the sea, but it fell in another boat and +the boy went after his cap and gave no more trouble.</p> +<p>The earthquake was at about 5.20 a.m. on 28th December; the +<i>Regina Margherita</i> arrived at Messina at 8 a.m. on the 30th +December. As soon as Cecè landed, he began searching +with others and at 10 a.m. found, in a well-furnished house, a +woman dead in bed, killed by a beam which had fallen across +her. Under the beam, close to her body, lay a baby girl, +very dirty but alive and untouched. It was impossible to +say precisely when the child had been born, but certainly only a +few hours before the earthquake, just time enough for the midwife +to leave the house, for they found no trace of her. +Cecè took the baby to the steamer and gave it sugar and +water, and when they returned to Palermo they got it a wet-nurse +and it was baptised Maria in the children’s hospital. +If one has an earthquake in one’s horoscope, surely it +could not be placed at a less inconvenient part of one’s +life. New-born babies can live three or four days without +food; but if this child had not been born before the earthquake, +she would not have been born at all, and if she had been born +earlier, she would have died of starvation or exposure before she +was found. As it happened she was sheltered and her life +preserved by the beam which killed her mother. Maria was +adopted by a lady of Palermo, and in April, 1910, Cecè +told me he had lately seen her and she was beginning to walk.</p> +<p>Cecè had had twenty earthquake babies in his hospital, +all with fathers and mothers unknown, and, of course, other +hospitals were equally full. When I was at Palermo in 1909 +he had only seven of the twenty, the rest having been taken away, +some by their fathers and mothers, others by <!-- page 225--><a +name="page225"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 225</span>people who +adopted them. Travelling back to England I saw in the +railway stations at Rome, Milan, and other places, frames of +photographs of unclaimed babies put up in the hope that they +might be recognised by chance travellers.</p> +<p>The <i>Regina Margherita</i> stayed at Messina one day, +loading, and then returned to Palermo with five hundred unwounded +and eighty-two wounded. Cecè remained in Messina, +searching, but joined the ship when she returned to Messina, +where she took up her station in port as a floating hospital.</p> +<p>He told me of a woman who was in the ruins, alive but unable +to move. Her daughter lay dead beside her. It was +raining, there was a dripping and she was getting wet. With +the morning light she saw it was not the rain that was wetting +her, but the blood of her husband and two grown-up sons who were +dead in the room above.</p> +<p>He told me of a law-student in Palermo, twenty-four years old, +engaged to a young lady who lived in Messina; this young man went +to pass his Christmas holidays with his betrothed. He was +not in the same house and the earthquake did him no harm; as soon +as it was over his first thought was for his fidanzata. He +got into the street and made for her house, paying no attention +to the cries that issued from the ruins. But, like a +wandering knight on his way to assist his lady and embarrassed by +meeting other adventures, he was stopped and forced to help in +searching a particular house, from which he extricated a +beautiful girl, nineteen years of age, unhurt. She would +not let him go till he had saved her mother. All the others +in the house were killed. Still the girl would not let him +go.</p> +<p>“Are you rich?” she asked.</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Then take this ring and tell me who you are.”</p> +<p>He took the ring and after giving her all the information she +required was allowed to proceed. When he came to the <!-- +page 226--><a name="page226"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +226</span>house of his betrothed he found that she and all her +family had perished. He returned to Palermo weeping.</p> +<p>Two months later he received a letter:</p> +<p>I asked if you were rich; you replied “No” and I +gave you my ring. You saved my mother and you saved +me. My mother has since died from the effects of the +shock. If you are free I am ready to marry you and I have +money enough for both.</p> +<p>On this they became engaged and after a suitable time intend +to marry. Cecè wanted to apologise for the +conventionality of this story, but I begged him not to trouble; +if unassisted nature were to be always original, the occupation +of poets and romancers would be gone.</p> +<p>In one house was a servant, a Roman woman; she was devoted to +a young lady of the family and all the family were buried in the +ruins, but the Roman servant was unhurt. She could get no +help, the house was on the outskirts of the city and such +passers-by as there were would not stop. She set to work +searching for her young mistress and incidentally saved the whole +family. It took her twenty-four hours; they were all +wounded and her young mistress was the last she found.</p> +<p>A woman kept a small shop opposite another shop kept by a man +who sold coal. The woman had saved money and the carbonajo +knew she had her money in her house. He entered the +woman’s house after the earthquake, accompanied by another +malefactor. The woman’s daughter was killed, but the +woman was under the ruins alive and they pulled her out. +She exclaimed:</p> +<p>“I do not know you.”</p> +<p>But she did know the carbonajo quite well, or at least well +enough to know he was a bad man and to suspect his +intention. They asked her where her money was +concealed. She only repeated:</p> +<p>“I do not know you.”</p> +<p>They believed her, thinking she was confused by the shock of +the earthquake; this was what she intended, <!-- page 227--><a +name="page227"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 227</span>otherwise +she feared they would have killed her. They threatened her, +and at last she told them where the money was, still protesting +that she did not know them. They took her money and then, +being afraid she might give the alarm and they might be caught +before they could escape, they pinned her down with a large piece +of the ruins on her left arm and departed, taking the risk of her +being rescued later and saying she had been robbed by unknown +men. She was rescued and brought to Palermo. In the +hospital she begged Cecè to put an end to her:</p> +<p>“What is the use of living? My daughter is dead, +my arm is gangrened, my money is stolen. Let me die and +have done with it.”</p> +<p>Cecè did not kill her, he chloroformed her and +amputated her arm. She gave information about the +carbonajo, who was arrested in Messina. His accomplice +escaped, but the woman got back her money and thanked Cecè +for amputating her arm instead of killing her.</p> +<h3>FUGITIVES AND VICTIMS</h3> +<p>At Caltanissetta they told me that the trains were bringing +fugitives from Messina all day and all night. The fugitives +were mostly naked and all very dirty, some with rugs, some with +cloaks, some with rags. A woman got out of the train +clothed, like Monna Vanna, in nothing but a cloak which a soldier +had given her. They asked her:</p> +<p>“What do you want done for you?”</p> +<p>She opened her cloak and showed that she wanted +everything.</p> +<p>Another woman came with her daughter whose leg was broken and +they were both naked. The doctor said to the mother:</p> +<p>“And what do you want?”</p> +<p>“Help for my daughter.”</p> +<p>To another destitute woman: “And you?”</p> +<p><!-- page 228--><a name="page228"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +228</span>“Shoes for my baby.”</p> +<p>Michele, a young man, was known to be in Reggio where he was +employed in the Municipio. His father went from +Caltanissetta to look for him and returned after four days, +during which he had searched for his son and suffered mental +anguish and physical discomfort. His friends went to the +station to meet him. He talked politics to them and asked +their opinion about the rotation of crops.</p> +<p>“And Michele?” they inquired.</p> +<p>“Oh! Michele,” here he began to laugh: +“Michele; yes, he is buried under the ruins of a house +three storeys high.”</p> +<p>They could get nothing more out of him except laughter and +that Michele was lying under a house three storeys high. A +few months later, Michele’s body was found, with no traces +of decay, brought to Caltanissetta and buried. Then his +friends wrote elegies in verse about him and handed them round +for approval.</p> +<p>Plenty of people went mad besides Michele’s +father. The streets of Messina were full of mad +people. They told me of one who lost his wife. Within +a fortnight he married a widow whose husband had been +destroyed. This happy couple spent their honeymoon in +digging out the bodies of their previous spouses and having them +suitably buried.</p> +<p>When I say they married, a widow may not legally marry for ten +months after the death of her husband, but this couple married on +credit, as they call it. There were many fugitives who +found a temporary asylum in a prison in Catania and who similarly +married on credit, intending to return later and contribute to +the population of the new Messina.</p> +<p>There was a family living on the top floor of a house close to +the railway station near the port in Reggio. They were not +hurt, but they could not get down because the earthquake had +destroyed the stairs. The man made a rope of sheets, with +the help of which he carried his wife down, then he went up and +fetched his children one after <!-- page 229--><a +name="page229"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 229</span>another, +three or four children. He went up again to fetch his money +and while in his room the house fell with him, killing and +burying him in the ruins. But he had saved his wife and +children.</p> +<p>They told me of a victim, pinned down in a cellar, unable to +rise; a chicken, whose coop had been broken, escaped and passed +near; the victim caught the chicken, killed it, plucked it and +ate it raw. They told me of others, not pinned down but +imprisoned in rooms, who ate what they found in +cupboards—oil, biscuits, salame, uncooked maccaroni. +These victims were saved and lived to recount their +sufferings. But there were others, pinned down and +imprisoned, whose bodies were not extricated till they had lain +for weeks and months beside their emptied cupboards, no longer on +the watch for escaping chickens. I was in Catania about a +year and a half after the earthquake and saw the funeral of one +whose body had recently been found; it was not the last.</p> +<h2><!-- page 233--><a name="page233"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 233</span>THE SLOPES OF ETNA</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> +LAVA</h3> +<p>We started from Catania at three o’clock on a dull +afternoon at the end of March to see one of the streams of lava +that Etna was sending out during the eruption of 1910. +Peppino Di Gregorio had arranged everything and provided four of +his friends to make company for us and to act as guides, some of +them having been before. He and I went in a one-horse +carriage with two of the friends and the other two came on their +bicycles. There was, first, another Peppino who had been in +America, where he earned his living by making cigars. He +had forgotten how it was done and, besides, it required special +tools, so he could not have shown me even if he had +remembered. Since his return home to Catania he has been +employed by the municipio. He begged me to call him not +Peppino but Joe, because he would be so English. Then there +was Ninu, also employed by the municipio, a great bullock of a +fellow bursting with health, whose legs were too short for him +and his smile a dream of romance. The other two were +Alessandro, about whom I got no information, and a grave +brigadier of the Guardia Municipale.</p> +<p>The road took us up-hill among villas and between walls +enclosing fields of volcanic soil, very fertile, and occasionally +a recent eruption had buried the fertility under fresh lava, hard +and black, on which nothing will grow for years.</p> +<p>Patrick Brydone went to Sicily in 1770, and wrote an account +of his journey: <i>A Tour through Sicily and Malta in a Series of +Letters to William Beckford</i>, <i>Esquire</i>, <i>of +Somerly</i>, <i>in Suffolk</i>, <i>from Patrick Brydone</i>, +<i>F.R.S.</i> Near <!-- page 234--><a +name="page234"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 234</span>Catania he +saw some lava covered with a scanty soil, incapable of producing +either corn or vines; he imagined from its barrenness that</p> +<blockquote><p>it had run from the mountain only a few ages ago; +but was surprised to be informed by Signor Recupero, the +historiographer of Etna, that this very lava is mentioned by +Diodorus Siculus to have burst from Etna in the time of the +second Punic war, when Syracuse was besieged by the Romans.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It seems that the stream ran from Etna to the sea, and cut off +the passage of a detachment of soldiers who were on their way +from Taormina to the relief of the besieged, and Diodorus took +his authority from inscriptions on Roman monuments found on the +lava itself. So that after about 2000 years this lava had +scarcely begun to be fertile. Afterwards Recupero, who was +a canonico, “an ingenious ecclesiastic of this +place,” told Brydone of a pit sunk near Jaci, where they +had pierced through seven parallel surfaces of lava, most of them +covered with a thick bed of rich earth.</p> +<blockquote><p>Now, says he [Recupero], the eruption which formed +the lowest of these lavas, if we may be allowed to reason from +analogy, must have flowed from the mountain at least 14,000 years +ago. Recupero tells me, he is exceedingly embarrassed by +these discoveries in writing the history of the +mountain.—That Moses hangs like a dead weight on him, and +blunts all his zeal for enquiry; for that really he has not the +conscience to make his mountain so young as that prophet makes +the world.—What do you think of these sentiments from a +Roman Catholic divine?—The bishop, who is strenuously +orthodox—for it is an excellent see—has already +warned him to be upon his guard, and not to pretend to be a +better natural historian than Moses; nor to presume to urge +anything that may in the smallest degree be deemed contradictory +to his sacred authority. . . .</p> +<p>The lava, being a very porous substance, easily catches the +dust that is carried about by the wind; which, at first I +observe, only yields a kind of moss; this rotting, and by degrees +increasing the soil, some small meagre vegetables are <!-- page +235--><a name="page235"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +235</span>next produced; which rotting in their turn, are +likewise converted into soil. But this process, I suppose, +is often greatly accelerated by showers of ashes from the +mountain, as I have observed in some places the richest soil, to +the depth of five or six feet and upwards; and still below that, +nothing but rocks of lava. It is in these spots that the +trees arrive at such an immense size. Their roots shoot +into the crevices of the lava, and lay such hold of it, that +there is no instance of the winds tearing them up; though there +are many of its breaking off their longest branches.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We passed several villages, and on one of the churches there +was a group of three saints—S. Alfio, the padrone of the +district, and his two brothers. I had never heard of S. +Alfio, who they told me was a physician and lived in the third +century; one of his brothers, S. Filiberto (whom the people call +S. Liberto), was a surgeon, and his other brother, S. Cirino, was +a chemist. They performed miracles, endured persecution, +and were finally martyred for the faith in this way: First they +had their three tongues cut out, then they were put into a +saucepan such as the maccaroni is boiled in, only +larger—large enough to hold three saints—and full of +boiling oil: the saucepan was placed on a fire and they were +cooked in it. Their bodies were afterwards burnt on a +gridiron. This took place out of doors opposite a tavern, +and three men, who had come to the tavern to drink, saw it all +done. Having seen it, they went to sleep for three hundred +years; then they woke up and wanted to pay for their drinks with +the money they had in their pockets, which was money made of +leather.</p> +<p>“What is this?” asked the landlord.</p> +<p>“It is money,” they replied.</p> +<p>“It is no use,” said the landlord. While +they had been asleep that kind of money had gone out of +circulation.</p> +<p>“It is good money,” they insisted.</p> +<p>“It is not money at all, it is only a piece of +leather.”</p> +<p>“It was money yesterday evening,” said the +spokesman, “when I saw Alfio, Cirino, and Liberto being +martyred.” This is how the martyrdom of the three +saints is <!-- page 236--><a name="page236"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 236</span>represented on carts belonging to +those spiritually-minded owners who prefer the Story of S. Alfio +to the Story of the Paladins. It seemed to me that the +painter had been suspiciously obsessed by the number Three; it +was in the third century, there were three saints, they were each +martyred three times over, though they cannot have known much +about the boiling or the grilling, and there were three drunkards +who went to sleep for three centuries. But I said +nothing. I thought I would wait till I could see a +cart.</p> +<p>By this time we had reached Nicolosi, that is we had nearly +traversed the first of the three zones into which the Slopes of +Etna are divided. This lowest one is the Regione Piemontese +and Nicolosi is about 2250 feet above the sea—the place +from which tourists often start to make the ascent of the +volcano. Here we spent a declamatory half-hour discussing +where we should eat the provisions we had brought from Catania +and drink the wine we had bought at Mascalucia on the way. +The discussion ended by our being received in a peasant’s +hut, where we spread a table for ourselves and the woman stood a +low paraffin lamp in the middle of the cloth. This is a bad +plan, the light dazzles one for seeing those sitting opposite and +their shadows are thrown big and black on the wall and ceiling so +that one cannot see the room, but I should say it was like +Orlando’s bedroom in the contadino’s cottage on +Ricuzzu’s cart, the only room in the house, poorly +furnished and used for all purposes. The woman of the hut +had a baby in her arms and I said to Ninu:</p> +<p>“I wonder whether I may look at the baby?”</p> +<p>“Of course you may,” he replied, “why +not?”</p> +<p>So I asked the woman, who smiled proudly and gave me the baby +at once. She called it Turi (Salvatore) and said it was +three weeks old. It was asleep and I nursed it till the +table was ready, which was not long, for everything was +cold. I handed Turi back to his mother and sat down, with +Joe on one side of me and Ninu on the other. <!-- page +237--><a name="page237"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +237</span>Presently Ninu inquired why I had asked whether I might +look at the baby. I replied that I had heard that Sicilian +peasants are so superstitious they do not like strangers to look +at their babies for fear of the evil eye; I admitted that I had +never yet met with a peasant so superstitious as to refuse to +show me her baby, but on the Slopes of Etna, during an eruption, +I had thought it wise to be careful.</p> +<p>Ninu, in the Sicilian manner, was about to say that anyone +could tell by my appearance that there was nothing to fear from +me, when Joe interrupted him:</p> +<p>“She is an intelligent woman,” said Joe.</p> +<p>I said: “I suppose you mean that she throws her +intelligence into the scale with her maternal pride, and together +they overbalance any little superstition which the proximity of +the volcano may have fostered.”</p> +<p>“That’s the way to put it,” he replied.</p> +<p>“Why do people talk so much about the evil eye? Do +they think it is picturesque, or do they really believe in +it?”</p> +<p>Joe considered for a moment. Then he said: +“Sometimes a peasant may decline to hand over her baby +because she thinks the stranger looks clumsy and is likely to +drop it; it would be rude to let him suspect this, so she allows +him to think she has a superstitious reason. And some of +her neighbours believe—at least—well, what do you +mean by believing? What is faith?”</p> +<p>“I’m sure I don’t know. Sometimes one +thing, sometimes another. It is a difficult +question.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps it is that she believes that her neighbours +believe,” said Joe, tentatively.</p> +<p>“That is not the faith of S. Alfio and his brothers, +that is not the faith that wins a martyr’s crown or that +removes mountains.”</p> +<p>“No, but it has its reward if it enables the believer to +feel that he is not singular, it is comfortable to feel that one +thinks as one’s neighbours think.”</p> +<p>I said: “Thou art a happy man, Poins, to think as other +men think.”</p> +<p><!-- page 238--><a name="page238"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +238</span>“I do not know anyone called Poins,” said +Joe, “it is not a Sicilian name; but to think as other men +think is as comfortable as a crown of martyrdom, and if it can be +won without any martyrdom worth speaking of—why, so much +the better.”</p> +<p>I agreed, and went on: “And then there are the men who +never think of religion or theology, but go to Mass to please +their wives.”</p> +<p>“Plenty of them,” he said, “and by pleasing +their wives they reap the reward of avoiding domestic friction, +whereby they perform a miracle greater than removing +Etna.”</p> +<p>I thought of my poor mother who used to say:</p> +<p>“But, my dear, if you never go to church what hold have +you over the servants?”</p> +<p>At the time, I remember, I pigeon-holed her problem among +others that are still awaiting solution, and she died before I +realised how well she had translated into the language of modern +Bayswater the “Paris vaut bien une Messe” of Henri +Quatre.</p> +<p>“If you want to see faith,” said Peppino Di +Gregorio, “why don’t you stay and go to the festa of +S. Alfio at Trecastagne? You might even see a miracle +there.”</p> +<p>It seems that when anyone is in hospital with a broken leg +after an accident or suffering from any illness, especially +hernia, he cries in his despair, making use of this form:</p> +<p>“O, S. Alfio! cure me of this illness, restore my broken +leg or cure my hernia” (or as may be) “and for the +love of my wife, of my children, of my mother” (or as may +be) “I will run naked to Trecastagne and light a candle +before your shrine.”</p> +<p>After making this vow, the patient recovers and then he must +not fail. With any other saint there may be failure, but +not with S. Alfio, for he is more powerful than the Madonna or +than the Padre Eterno or than the Redeemer. He is the +Padrone and performs miracles.</p> +<p><!-- page 239--><a name="page239"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +239</span>“But how long should I have to stay? When +is this festa?”</p> +<p>It would not be till the 10th of May, nearly six weeks ahead, +and that made it a matter requiring consideration and, as it was +now half-past seven and dark, we had to leave off talking and +start for the lava.</p> +<p>Those of our friends who had made the excursion before were +delightful as company, but we hardly wanted them as guides, +because the way was shown by hundreds of people who were +returning, many of them carrying torches, and we only had to walk +in the opposite direction. We also carried a +light—the acetylene lamp off Ninu’s bicycle, and it +functioned as inefficiently as the bull’s-eye lantern which +Mr. Pickwick took with him on his nocturnal expedition at +Clifton. The road was broad enough, but strewn with big +lumps of lava lying half-hidden in lava sand. I stumbled +frequently, but I never fell, because one of my friends was +always at my elbow and caught me; either it was the brave +brigadier or Alessandro or Joe or the other Peppino or that great +hulking Ninu with his operatic smile lighted up by his fitful +lamp. They took care of me all the way until, after about +an hour, we turned into a vineyard, called the Contrada Fra +Diavolo, and our progress was stopped by a sloping embankment +over twenty feet high.</p> +<p>This was the broad nose of the stream of lava. It was +coming towards us at about eighty feet an hour, but its velocity +varies according to the slope of the ground and the cooling and +consistency of the material. The course of the stream +described a curve from the mouth to the place where we stood, and +the width of it gradually increased until opposite us it was +about a quarter of a mile broad. There was plenty of smoke, +fiery with the light reflected from the glowing stream, and +especially thick in the direction of the mouth. The lava +was sluggish, viscous, heavy stuff, full of bubbles, pushing +itself along and kneading itself like dough. Red-hot +boulders and shapeless lumps <!-- page 240--><a +name="page240"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 240</span>of all +manner of sizes were continually losing their balance and rolling +lazily down the slope towards us; as they rolled they disengaged +little avalanches of rapid sparks, and when they reached the +ground they sometimes fell against a vine stump and set it in a +blaze for a moment. They said that this is Etna’s +cunning way of taking a glass of wine; he opens a mouth and +consumes a vineyard. All the time there was a roaring noise +like coals being thrown on the fire, only much louder, and the +great sloping wall glowed in the places where open crevasses left +by the crumbling blocks had stirred it. It was too hot for +us to go very near, nevertheless, my companions were not content +to leave without bringing some pieces of lava away. They +went towards it with canes which the vines will not want this +year, unless the stream stops before it has broadened over the +contrada, and with much difficulty and scorching, manipulated +bits of red-hot lava until they had got them far enough away to +deal with them, and then, balancing them on the end of two canes, +they brought them to where I was resting near a doomed hut.</p> +<p>After spending an hour, fascinated by the spectacle, we +returned by the sandy, rocky road to Nicolosi. While the +carriage was being got ready, I said to Joe:</p> +<p>“You know, if I lived on the Slopes of Etna, close to +such a sight as we have been contemplating, I think I should +believe in the evil eye and S. Alfio and everything +else.”</p> +<p>He assured me that it would not have any such effect unless, +perhaps, during the periods of actual eruption—as soon as +the eruption was over I should forget all about it.</p> +<p>“Do we not all live on the slopes of volcanoes?” +asked Joe. “An eruption cannot do more than ruin you +or kill you. And without coming to live on the Slopes of +Etna you might be ruined or die at any moment. How do you +know that you have not now in you the seeds of some fatal disease +that will declare itself before you return home? Or you may +be run over in the street or killed in a railway <!-- page +241--><a name="page241"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +241</span>accident any day. And as for ruin, next time you +look into an English newspaper you may see that all your +investments have left off paying dividends and have gone down to +an unsaleable price. Perhaps at this moment, in some +Foreign Office, a despatch is being drafted that will lead to a +declaration of war and the ruin of England and you with it. +And yet you never worry about all this.”</p> +<p>“Then perhaps I had better begin to believe in S. Alfio +at once?”</p> +<p>“Especially if you are threatened with +hernia.”</p> +<p>“You said something about hernia before. What has +hernia to do with it?” I inquired.</p> +<p>“S. Alfio’s first miracle was to cure one of his +brothers of that complaint, which he had contracted while +carrying a beam.”</p> +<p>“But was not S. Alfio a medical man? Why do you +call it a miracle when a medical man cures his patient? +Have you been reading the plays of Molière?”</p> +<p>“Who is Molière?” asked one of them. +“Did he write his plays in the Catanian dialect?”</p> +<p>It does not do to make these allusions when talking with +Sicilians who are employed in the municipio. One might as +well quote <i>Candide</i> to some young schoolmaster who thinks +the only thing worth knowing is the date of the Battle of +Salamis. So I returned to S. Alfio and asked whether he +always answers all prayers; they said the people believe he does +or they hope he will. One of them, thinking I was inclined +to scoff, rebuked me, saying:</p> +<p>“If you had been to Trecastagne and seen what I have +seen, you would believe. I saw in the church there a dumb +man. He tried to shout ‘Viva S. Alfio,’ but +could only make inarticulate noises. The people encouraged +him, and he went on trying till at last he said the words +distinctly. I heard him say them. You are making a +mistake in not going to Trecastagne. You might also behold +a miracle and then you would believe as I do.”</p> +<p>I thought of Géronte when his daughter recovers her +<!-- page 242--><a name="page242"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +242</span>speech in <i>Le Médecin Malgré Lui</i> +and wanted to ask how long this dumb man retained his miraculous +power and whether his relations and friends were pleased about it +and whether, after the novelty had worn off, they continued +shouting “Viva S. Alfio.” But I said nothing; I +was afraid of confirming them in the notion that I was scoffing, +whereas I was very much impressed; the influence of the stream of +lava was still upon me and all that Joe had said about living on +the slopes of volcanoes. And I was wondering whether I +could manage to be back in Catania for the 10th of May and see +the people running naked to Trecastagne. I was not anxious +to go there myself, not because I should have had to run naked +all the thirteen kilometres, they would have let me wear my +clothes and drive in a painted cart, but because there is no +albergo there and it would have meant being up all night. +If S. Alfio had earned his reputation by restoring those who +spend sleepless nights in the street, I might have given him a +chance of exercising his power on me.</p> +<p>There is generally some way of doing anything one really wants +to do, and by the time we were separating in Catania, at one +o’clock in the morning I was promising to try to return in +time for the Festa di S. Alfio.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX<br /> +S. ALFIO</h3> +<p>I was back in Catania before the 9th of May and began talking +about S. Alfio in the Teatro Machiavelli. One of the actors +whose name is Volpes, the one who did the listening father in the +play about Rosina and the good young man, is employed by day in +the cathedral, his department being the brass-work; he is +therefore something of a hagiologist. He was going on +business to Lentini, which is situated to the south of Catania on +the way to <!-- page 243--><a name="page243"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 243</span>Siracusa, it is the place where the +three saintly brothers were martyred, and there he bought for me +a book—<i>Storia dei Martiri e della Chiesa di Lentini</i>, +by Sebastiano Pisano Baudo (Lentini: Giuseppe Saluta, +1898)—from which I have collected particulars for this +story of the Life of S. Alfio.</p> +<p>Towards the end of the first half of the third century after +Christ, at Prefetta in Gascony, the wealthy and noble Prince +Vitale lived a life of singular piety, united in matrimony to +Benedetta di Locusta. Heaven had blessed them with three +sons, Alfio born in 230, Filiberto born one year and eight months +later and Cirino born one year and four months later again. +Prefetta was not only in Gascony, it was also in Aquitaine, and, +notwithstanding this, it was in Spain and also in the Abruzzi, +which is a region of Italy between Naples and Taranto, if I +understand correctly. Owing to its unsettled habits +geographers do not mark it on the maps, but they and the +historians are agreed that it certainly existed, and perhaps it +exists still, if only in a Castellinarian sense. The +interesting point is that it was the birthplace of S. Alfio.</p> +<p>The noble and saintly Benedetta, having been brought up in the +school of sacrifice, ardently desired to die for the faith. +Her husband placed no obstacle in her way. She obtained an +interview with the prefect, abused his gods and awaited the +sentence which took the form of decapitation.</p> +<p>Prince Vitale after the death of his wife was free to +consecrate himself to the education of his three sons. I +expected to find that he had them taught medicine, surgery and +chemistry, but there is not a word about any of these +subjects. Evodio di Bisanzio, flying from country to +country to avoid the persecution of Massimino, happened upon +Prefetta; he was welcomed by Vitale, who appointed him tutor of +his boys. Evodio was learned in the sacred sciences, the +Greek fables and how to live rightly. These were the +subjects which he taught to his pupils. Alfio copied out +the Books of the Prophets, Filiberto the Gospels <!-- page +244--><a name="page244"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +244</span>and Cirino the Letters of S. Paul and the Acts of the +Apostles. Thus they developed a manly spirit, angelic +habits and an intelligence, a piety, a devotion which are the +rare gifts of a few privileged souls.</p> +<p>Onesimo was their next tutor, a man of deep learning and a +fervent missionary who came to Prefetta with a following of +thirteen or fourteen disciples and boarded and lodged with Prince +Vitale. He was more the kind of tutor Vitale wanted for his +boys. Onesimo had no sympathy with flying from persecution; +he took the view that it was not enough to copy the sacred Books, +his pupils must know how to sacrifice their frail bodies for the +glory of the Cross. He instructed them in the practical +work of martyrdom.</p> +<p>In the year 249, Decio ascended the imperial throne and issued +an edict against the Christians. Vitale and Onesimo heard +of it and welcomed this opportunity for the three brothers who +swore on the ashes of their mother that they would profit by +it. They did not have to wait long. Nigellione, the +imperial minister, came to execute the decree. Onesimo and +his pupils, in spite of tortures, professed their unalterable +faith in the Cross and were sent to Rome together with fourteen +other Christians. Vitale, being thus freed from all family +responsibilities, exiled himself with his friends and awaited his +end in a sacred retreat so retired that our author does not +specify it.</p> +<p>In Rome, Onesimo and his band of Christians suffered +tortures. While in prison S. Peter and S. Paul appeared to +them, healed their wounds, exhorted them to persevere and +promised ultimate victory. On the seventh day they were +taken before Valeriano, the imperial minister. Failing, as +Nigellione had failed, to shake their faith, he sent them with a +letter to Diomede, Prince of Pozzuoli, telling him that if he +could not win the captives over from their new faith he was to +put to death Onesimo and the fourteen disciples by means of +fierce tortures, and to send Alfio, Filiberto and Cirino into +Sicily to be dealt with according <!-- page 245--><a +name="page245"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 245</span>to +instructions contained in another letter addressed to the crafty +Tertullo, Governor of Sicily, at Lentini.</p> +<p>Diomede carried out his instructions. The Christians all +refused to sacrifice to the false gods. Onesimo died in +consequence of an unusually large stone being placed upon his +chest, the fourteen disciples were decapitated and Alfio, +Filiberto and Cirino were handed over to fifty soldiers under +Captain Silvano, a man of a proud and cruel nature, and taken in +a ship to Messina.</p> +<p>The voyage occupied three days; they reposed in Messina for +two hours and then, chained together and barefooted, proceeded to +Taormina, where Tertullo happened to be hunting for Christians, +and to him Captain Silvano delivered the letter from +Valeriano. Tertullo’s instructions were to make the +most of his attractive appearance and his agreeable manners and +by means of cajolery to persuade the three holy brethren to +sacrifice to the gods of Rome; in case of failure he was to cause +them to suffer many and various tortures and then to deprive them +of their lives.</p> +<p>Tertullo concocted a scheme worthy of the devil. No +sooner were the youths brought into his presence than he assumed +the appearance of an affectionate father, embraced them and +inquired sympathetically about their parents and their +home. On their telling him they were Christians he +endeavoured, with apparent kindness, to turn them from a faith +which had brought them nothing but suffering. He promised +that if they would sacrifice to the gods of Rome they should +enjoy the pleasures of a court life. But there was none of +the <i>Paris vaut bien une Messe</i> about the sons of the +saintly Benedetta. They spurned his promises and continued +to declare themselves firm believers in the true Cross. +Tertullo, defeated and angry, thereupon showed himself in his +true colours; he dropped the affectionate parent and ordered the +brothers to be tortured. He then sent them with Captain +Mercurio and a squadron of forty soldiers to Lentini to await his +return to that city.</p> +<p><!-- page 246--><a name="page246"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +246</span>At Mascali they were fatigued, especially Filiberto, +who almost succumbed. They prayed to the Omnipotent and, +before they had risen from their knees, the azure heavens became +obscured, the wind blew, the thunder roared, the lightning +flashed and there was a great rain. The forty soldiers fell +upon their faces, frightened nearly to death, and in the tempest +onward came a venerable man, believed by all who saw him to be S. +Andrea. This personage restored the youths; whereupon the +rain ceased, the clouds dispersed, the heavens smiled again and +the forty soldiers rose from the ground declaring that the God +worshipped by their prisoners must be more powerful than they had +supposed.</p> +<p>In those days the usual road from Taormina to Lentini passed +along by the seashore, but Captain Mercurio took the three +brothers by an inland route passing through Trecastagni, perhaps +because the road by the shore was encumbered with lava from an +eruption of Etna which occurred in the year 251 or 252. +When I came to this I thought of Diodorus Siculus and the second +Punic war, but I repressed the suspicion that the compiler of the +story was consciously borrowing a bit of local colour in order to +get S. Alfio to Trecastagni in a picturesque manner.</p> +<p>It was the end of August or the beginning of September in the +year 252 when the three saints reached Trecastagni. Here +they sat on a rock which diversified the uniformity of the +landscape, partook of food and reposed. Exhilarated by a +laughing sky of rarest beauty, the holy brethren unloosed their +tongues and sang hymns of joy and praise to the Lord for that he +had given them the strength and spirit to face their anticipated +martyrdom. On the spot where they reposed now stands the +parish church of Trecastagni.</p> +<p>The three saints proceeded to Catania, where they passed an +uncomfortable night singing hymns in an obscure prison, and at +daybreak were taken on towards Lentini. The river Simeto +was in flood owing to the recent abundant rain, which is perhaps +a reference to the storm at <!-- page 247--><a +name="page247"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 247</span>Mascali; as +soon as the saints put their feet in the stream it shrank and +they passed over. Eight of the soldiers attempted to follow +in their footsteps, but a sudden rush of water engulfed them +together with their horses; this danger caused the remaining +thirty-two soldiers to stay where they were, and they patiently +waited four days till they were fetched by their comrades who, I +suppose, had got over the river and employed the time in drying +their uniforms and recovering from their wetting, but at first I +feared they had been drowned.</p> +<p>Eight hundred paces to the north of Lentini the glorious +brothers met a young man of the Jewish religion who had eaten +nothing for a month. Captain Mercurio, having seen and been +much touched by the portents performed by his prisoners during +the journey, begged them to restore the youth. Immediately, +with no assistance from anyone, the saints broke the ropes that +bound them, prayed to heaven, approached the sufferer, infused +new life into his exhausted frame and restored him to perfect +health. The youth and his parents confessed their faith in +the Nazarene, Captain Mercurio also declared himself converted +and twenty of the soldiers, dismounting from their horses, threw +their arms on the ground and prayed to be bound with chains since +they now abhorred the false pagan gods and intended for the +future to worship only the God of the three brothers.</p> +<p>They entered Lentini on Wednesday the 3rd of September, 252, +their hands bound behind them, their heads uncovered and their +feet bare, presenting to the emotional crowd an appearance of +great nobility. They were put in prison with the twenty +converted soldiers, tortured and starved; but a venerable man +girdled with grace and celestial light miraculously brought food +to them, embraced them and blessed them, their wounds were +healed, their strength was restored, their courage was +reinforced. Their tortures were increased after this, and +so it went on till the 10th of May, 253, when S. Alfio was killed +by having his <!-- page 248--><a name="page248"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 248</span>tongue pulled out, S. Filiberto was +burnt on a gridiron and S. Cirino was boiled in pitch and +bitumen.</p> +<p>Eight years later, in June, 261, Vitale in his retirement was +cheered by a visit from Neofito and Aquila, who brought to him, +as tokens of the martyrdom of his three sons, the mantle of +Alfio, the girdle of Filiberto and the veil of Cirino, saturated +with blood.</p> +<p>The geographers write Trecastagne on the maps as though the +village took its name from Three Chestnut Trees, but the learned +say it should be Trecastagni—Tre Casti Agni, that is Three +Chaste Lambs, after the three saints who rested on the site of +the parish church. Their memory is perpetuated also at +Mascali, Catania and Lentini. And they are adored at +Aci-reale, Pedara and at other places on the eastern slopes, +whence the faithful come to their shrine at Trecastagne on the +10th of May.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XX<br /> +THE NAKED RUNNERS</h3> +<p>One may see in the foregoing story of S. Alfio the foundation +of some of the incidents painted on the carts, and perhaps the +saints’ travelling bareheaded and barefooted is the origin +of the people running so to Trecastagne, but I can find nothing +in the book to support the belief that S. Alfio was a medical man +or that he ever cured anyone of hernia. Nevertheless that +he was a medical man, especially successful in treating hernia, +is believed by everyone in and round Catania. Fortified by +my book I ventured to doubt it and asked my friends in what +university he took his diploma. They replied that I was +confusing cause and effect; for in the beginning it was not the +universities that made the doctors, it was the doctors that made +the universities.</p> +<p>I then pointed out that he could not even cure himself <!-- +page 249--><a name="page249"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +249</span>from the wounds made by the tortures; SS. Peter and +Paul had to come to the Roman prison, S. Andrea had to be called +in at Mascali and the old man girdled with grace and celestial +light at Lentini. But they disposed of this by reminding me +that medical men are notoriously powerless to cure +themselves.</p> +<p>Then I objected that a saint who was born in 230 and who died +in 253 was too young to have got together anything of a +practice. They replied that the carts show him exercising +his profession.</p> +<p>“Where are these carts?” I exclaimed. +“If they are in Catania, let them be called and give their +evidence in the usual manner.”</p> +<p>So we looked at all the carts we met that were not going too +fast. On one of them Garibaldi was landing at Marsala and +overcoming the Bourbons at Calatafimi; on another Cristoforo +Colombo was receiving a bag of gold from Ferdinand and Isabella, +who wanted to put an end to all this wearing delay about the +discovery of America; on another Don José was being made a +fool of by Carmen in the wine-shop of Lillas Pastia; we saw the +enthusiasm of the Crusaders on catching sight of Jerusalem; +Otello was smothering Desdemona; we saw the Rape of the Sabines +and somebody before the Soldan. But none of these pictures +threw any light on S. Alfio.</p> +<p>Peppino Di Gregorio said we must have patience. So we +patiently turned down another street and saw King Ruggero +dismissing the ambassadors: “Return at once to your Lord +and tell him that we Sicilians are not—” something +for which the artist had left so little room that it was +illegible, but the noble attitude of King Ruggero conveyed the +meaning: we saw Mazeppa bound to a white horse rushing through a +rocky wood and frightening the lions and tigers; Etna was in +eruption; banners were being blessed by the Pope; Musolino was +tripping over that cursed wire and being taken by the +carabinieri; Paolo and Francesca were abandoning the pursuit of +<!-- page 250--><a name="page250"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +250</span>literature in favour of an eternity of +torment—anything rather than go on reading in that +book. Still there was nothing about S. Alfio.</p> +<p>They then proposed a visit to the workshop of a man who earns +his living by painting carts. We found him at work on the +birth of Rinaldo who came into the world with his right hand +closed. The doctors and nurses were standing round, +wondering; they all tried but they could do nothing. After +eight days the baby, yielding to the incessant caresses of his +adorata mamma, opened his fist and lo! it contained a scrap of +paper with his name—Rinaldo—written upon it.</p> +<p>We begged the artist to show us a cart with the Life of S. +Alfio, or the designs for such a life. And he could +not. He said such carts were rare and he had no designs; +when asked to paint the story of S. Alfio he does it out of his +head, putting in anything that his patrons particularly +order. We asked how old he makes the saints and he replied +that his instructions usually are to make them about +sixteen. So that the carts, if we could find them, would +not be evidence of anything but the well-known habit of artists +to flatter their sitters. Still I should have liked to see +pictures of the young doctor, the young surgeon and the young +chemist curing patients of hernia and being martyred for the +faith.</p> +<p>On the 9th of May in the evening we all went to the Teatro +Machiavelli and, coming out a little before midnight, walked up +the Via Stesicoro Etnea to the Piazza Cavour. The pavements +were lined with people who had come to see the sight and the +roadway was left for those who were going to Trecastagne. +There were innumerable painted carts, some of them nearly as fine +as Ricuzzu’s birthday present; the horses and mules were so +splendidly harnessed and so proud of themselves that Peppino Di +Gregorio called them “cavalli mafiosi”; they were +driving fast out of the city with coloured lights and +fireworks. Every now and then came a naked man running in +the road and carrying <!-- page 251--><a name="page251"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 251</span>a large wax candle. They speak +of them as I Nudi, but they were not really naked; they wore +white cotton drawers down to their knees, a broad red waist-band +and a broad red scarf and some of them wore a flannel +jersey. They were all bare-headed and bare-footed, or +rather without boots, for they wore socks; this is enough to +satisfy S. Alfio, who, being a doctor, does not insist on their +taking needless risk. Nevertheless the socks must get torn +to pieces before they are out of the town, and their feet must be +bleeding long before they reach Trecastagne. Some of the +so-called nudi, both men and women, were fully dressed except +that they were without hats or boots. They all ran, +occasionally they may rest by walking, but they may not dance and +they may not stop and they may not greet their friends in the +crowd except by shouting “Con vera fede, Viva S. +Alfio!” Each of them carries his candle in his hand +and it may cost five or ten francs, some cost as much as twenty +francs. For days before the festa they go about Catania +with trays collecting soldi from all they meet. But if one +of them meets the doctor who attended him in the hospital, he is +careful not to make the mistake of asking the doctor for a +subscription. So they ran and shouted, and I said:</p> +<p>“These are the carts that ought to have the story of S. +Alfio. Couldn’t we stop one and look at +it?”</p> +<p>They recommended me not to try, it would block the stream of +traffic and the people would not like it. So we sat in the +piazza till about two in the morning and watched them +passing.</p> +<p>That was not all we were to see. In the afternoon of the +10th of May everyone who was left in Catania went out towards +Trecastagne to see the return of the people, who are said to be +drunk after their religious devotions. In order to do this +in comfort Peppino Di Gregorio had arranged that we should go to +colazione with Giovanni Bianca, a friend of his who has a country +house on the Slopes of Etna near the route, and afterwards we +would go where we could <!-- page 252--><a +name="page252"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 252</span>see the +return of the devout. First, he said, we must go to the +station and fetch Joe, because he was to come too.</p> +<p>I said: “With pleasure, but why go to the station? +I thought Joe was employed in the municipio?”</p> +<p>“We shall find him keeping order among the coachmen in +the station-yard,” replied Peppino.</p> +<p>And there he was in the uniform of a guardia municipale.</p> +<p>“Why, Joe!” I exclaimed, “I thought you were +writing at a desk all day in the Mansion House. I did not +know you were a policeman.”</p> +<p>He replied that he was a guardia municipale, which is not +exactly the same thing, and was going on to explain the +difference between the carabinieri, the pubblica sicurezza, the +guardia municipale, the guardia campestre and all the rest of it, +when I interrupted him:</p> +<p>“I shall never remember what you are telling me; I shall +always think of you as a policeman.”</p> +<p>“All right,” he replied, “I’ll be Joe +the Policeman, and Ninu is a policeman too.”</p> +<p>“I can quite believe it,” I said. +“When we went to the lava you both treated me just as our +policemen in London treat the old ladies and gentlemen who are +afraid of the traffic; you helped me along and never let me fall +down, and looked after me as though I had been given specially +into your charge. London policemen are just like +that—very kind and helpful. I know one of them in +private life and he is a capital fellow. I made his +acquaintance over my bicycle.”</p> +<p>“How was that?” inquired Joe. “Did you +get run over and did he pick you up? What did I tell you +about living on the slopes of volcanoes?”</p> +<p>“It was not exactly that,” I replied; “it +was because I wanted to avoid being run over that I gave my +bicycle to a man to sell it for me when the motor-cars began to +get on my nerves, and this policeman bought it. He did not +give much for it, but if the value of his friendship is taken +into the account I think I made rather a good bargain.”</p> +<p><!-- page 253--><a name="page253"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +253</span>“Tell me about him.”</p> +<p>“Oh, there’s nothing to tell. He comes to +see me sometimes, when he is free. We have tastes in +common; for instance, we do not like knock-about brothers at a +music-hall—they bore us. And then books; our tastes +in literature, however, are less alike; but he is quite a +reader. Once he had in his pocket The <i>Beauties of +Nature</i>, by Sir John Lubbock—that was to improve his +mind—and <i>Little Lord Fauntleroy</i>, which he was +reading for pure enjoyment. I told him that I also had +written a book and he wanted to read it, so I lent it to +him.”</p> +<p>“I hope he appreciated it?” inquired Joe +sympathetically.</p> +<p>“He was extremely polite about it. Next time I saw +him he said: ‘Well, I’ve been reading your +book’; (he spoke with great deliberation) ‘I can get +on with it. Yes. It doesn’t drag upon me. +I don’t feel it’s time wasted. But, you know, +if I ever do anything of that sort, I think it will be more in +the style of Charlie Dickens.’“</p> +<p>“I should not call that very polite of him, was +it?”</p> +<p>“I am not so sure. We must distinguish. He +was not thinking of the Dickens of <i>Pickwick</i> with all his +beaux moments, he was thinking of that other Dickens of the +<i>Christmas Books</i> with all his mauvais quarts +d’heure.”</p> +<p>“But have you two authors named Dickens in +England?”</p> +<p>Then I saw that to my audience Dickens was as much a sealed +book as Molière and that my literary policeman must be +reserved until I can write <i>Diversions in London</i>. So +I turned the conversation by telling Joe that Dickens is not an +uncommon name in England and is a form of Riccardo, as Jones is a +form of Giovanni.</p> +<p>While talking we were on our way to Joe’s house, where +he changed from his uniform to his private clothes, and then we +took the tram to Cibali. Here we bought provisions and +carried them with us to the country house, which was not yet +properly open for the summer. We had picked <!-- page +254--><a name="page254"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 254</span>up +our host, Giovanni Bianca, on the way, and he took us round and +showed us the garden, which was full of flowers and fruit trees +and vines; he showed us also the lava of 1669 which destroyed +part of Catania. He gave me a piece of primeval lava from +the bottom of the well which his father had dug, about 150 feet +down. I inquired how old that lava would be. He was +not sure, but it would be older than the Romans, older than the +Greeks, older than the Sikels or the Sikans.</p> +<p>“Say ten thousand years old,” said Giovanni, and +he said it without being in the least embarrassed, but then he is +not a canonico and has not Moses hanging as a dead weight on +him. He went on to say that he did not really know. +“The memory of man,” he said, “works very +imperfectly, and to understand these things one ought to study +the science of geology.”</p> +<p>In the afternoon we went across country to a spot on the +route, past which the people had already begun to come. I +asked, what they had been doing at Trecastagne all night. +They told me that the journey from Catania takes about three +hours, more or less according to the ability of the runner, so +that they begin to arrive somewhere about 3 a.m. and keep on +arriving all the morning; and others come from other villages on +the eastern slopes. Then they make a row till the church is +opened and the nudi go in and light their candles before S. +Alfio. Some of them go on their knees and lick the stone +floor of the church all the way from the entrance to the altar, +but this is being discouraged because it covers the floor with +blood and is considered not to be hygienic. Perhaps it +might also be well to prohibit the running with bare feet, for +that must also make the floor in an unhygienic condition, to say +nothing of the roads that lead to the village. Some take +stones and beat their breasts, and they all shout continually +“Con buona fede, Viva S. Alfio!” After Mass +they dress and eat and drink. Some of them have carried +their food on their backs, others have friends who have brought +it in their carts, and the <!-- page 255--><a +name="page255"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 255</span>food +includes eels, which come from the Lake of Lentini; thus they +enjoy the luxury of eating fish on the Slopes of Etna and +moreover fish from the place of S. Alfio’s martyrdom. +At midday the car bearing the three saints is brought out into +the street, but this, it seems, does not interest the nudi; they +have run naked to the shrine, they have lighted their candles, +they have performed their vow and are now free to enjoy +themselves. Of course, those who suffer from hernia do not +attempt to run until after they believe themselves to be cured of +that complaint; but rheumatic patients are often much better +after running to Trecastagne, the exertion has upon them an +effect like that of a Turkish bath, but it knocks them up in +other ways.</p> +<p>By the afternoon, when it is time to return, what with the +running, the walking, the driving, the fasting, the shouting, the +religious exaltation, the want of sleep, the eating and drinking, +the fireworks and the jollity of the festa, many of them are +drunk. Joe says the festa is a continuation of some Bacchic +festival, and this is more than likely, just as it is more than +likely that the Bacchic festival was a continuation of some +earlier one. He wants S. Alfio to be a transformation of +Bacchus, just as Bacchus was a transformation of Dionysus and +Dionysus of some earlier divinity, and so on back to him who +first discovered wine, ages and ages before the vates sacer who +immortalised Noah.</p> +<p>“And how much do the people believe?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Ah!” replied Joe; “who knows? And +what is faith?”</p> +<p>“I’m sure I don’t know,” I said; +“sometimes one thing and sometimes another. It is a +difficult question.”</p> +<p>Then I remembered that he had asked me the same question, and +I had made the same reply at Nicolosi six weeks before, and I +also remembered something that had happened in between. +“The other day,” I continued, “I had to wait in +the station at Messina, and I asked the porter who was helping me +with my baggage whether he <!-- page 256--><a +name="page256"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 256</span>had seen +the comet. He replied, ‘No, I have not seen the +comet, and I shall not even look for it; I do not believe in the +comet.’“</p> +<p>“Oh, well, you know what he meant by that? He had +heard that it was going to destroy the world, so he did not want +to believe in it; he did not want it to exist; he was not going +to encourage such a dangerous phenomenon by having anything to do +with it. ‘I’ll leave you alone and I expect you +to leave me alone.’“</p> +<p>“Yes; I suppose he thought that if he removed his custom +the comet would fail.”</p> +<p>“Precisely. But it is not quite that with S. +Alfio; they want him to exist; they are afraid that if they +don’t believe in him, he will leave off performing miracles +and will no longer cure them.”</p> +<p>“It seems to me,” I said, “that they are +dominated by the prepotenza of S. Alfio very much as the +sulphur-miners are dominated by the prepotenza of their +capo-mafioso.”</p> +<p>“With this distinction,” he replied, “that +the capo-mafioso has the power, and sometimes the will, to hurt +them; it would require a struggle to destroy his prepotenza and +there is the risk of failure. With S. Alfio, if they cared +to be master in their own house, they have only got to leave off +believing in him, there need be no struggle and there could be no +risk.”</p> +<p>“You speak as though they could believe or leave off +believing at will.”</p> +<p>“So they can, in the loose sense in which they use the +word. They only go on believing because their vanity is +involved—it flatters them to attribute the gift of miracles +to a creature of their own imagination and, by being satisfied +with very little and very poor evidence, they make things easy +for S. Alfio. But they could not tell you this themselves, +they are half asleep about it.”</p> +<p>I said: “Of course they are half asleep about it, and +all S. Alfio’s interests are bound up in their remaining +so. They are not only asleep, they are dreaming, as the Red +<!-- page 257--><a name="page257"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +257</span>King dreamt of Alice. If they were to wake up S. +Alfio would go out—bang!—just like a +candle.”</p> +<p>Alice and the Red King were as unknown to Joe as Poins or +Molière or Dickens. I did my best to explain the +allusion, but I doubt whether I succeeded, for when I had +finished he only said that Tweedledum and Tweedledee had better +not go about saying things like that, or their bishop would be +warning them to be on their guard as he warned the Canonico +Recupero. I must try whether he will understand better if I +send him a copy of <i>Through the Looking-Glass</i> for his next +onomastico. He told me something which makes me suspect +that the people must have a dim feeling of how things really +are. It seems that sometimes, though rarely, it pleases +them to pretend to believe that their padrone has displeased +them. Then they half wake up and depose him; but nothing +comes of it, they only choose a new one or, after a short time, +reinstate the old one.</p> +<p>We went to a house on the route and sat on a balcony in the +sunset and the drunken people pelted down-hill, smothered in the +golden glory of the dust they raised, banging their tambourines, +blowing their whistles, and singing that now the festa was over +they must go home and work to pay the debts it had run them +into. It was no more use to think of stopping them to see +the pictures now than when they were going out; so I pigeon-holed +what the carts say about S. Alfio with my poor mother’s +problem about what influence people who never go to church have +over their servants. The cavalli mafiosi and the carts were +stuck about with coloured feathers and festooned with bunches of +garlic, with flowers, with lumps of lard, with little flags and +ribbons, with garlands of caruba beans and with vetch. The +flags, the ribbons, the flowers and the feathers were, I suppose, +for gaiety and festa—pour faire la frime—but garlic +has some magically beneficent properties; not only does it avert +the evil eye, it is also a symbol of robust health, so that +instead of replying to “How do you do?” by saying +“As right as <!-- page 258--><a name="page258"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 258</span>rain,” they reply, “As +right as garlic.” They believe that to put three +crosses of garlic under the bed of a woman in child-birth will +ensure a happy issue. There is something fortunate or +healthy also about vetch and, no doubt, some special significance +about lard and the beans of the carob. These beliefs are +based lower than Giovanni Bianca’s primeval lava, and I +know no more about their origin than he does, but I suppose they +are older than the Romans, older than the Greeks, older than the +Sikels and the Sikans—probably much more than ten thousand +or fourteen thousand years old. They spring from a soil +which has become fertile by catching the dust of ages, tossed to +and fro and carried about by every wind of doctrine, wherein +generations of beliefs have grown up, flourished and +decayed. There is no more fertilising manure for a +struggling young faith than the rotting remains of a dead +superstition. And the roots pierce down beneath the soil +and shoot into the crevices of an intolerance more unyielding +than buried lava. To understand these things, one ought to +become a pupil of Professore Pitrè, and make a study of +the science of demopsicologia, and even then one would only get +glimpses of the more recent deposits of civilisation that lie +crushed one under the other like the parallel surfaces of rich +earth in the pit sunk near Jaci.</p> +<p>Whatever the significance of the things they carried or the +origin of their belief in them, the people in the carts kept +flinging them to the boys in the road, who caught them and picked +them up and carried them off to make their festa with them later +on. They were all very lively, but no one seemed to me very +drunk, not more drunk than the nudi were naked; there were +drunken people among them, but not enough to make me feel sure +that S. Alfio ought to be identified with Bacchus. One can +see more drunkenness on Hampstead Heath on a Bank Holiday, but +one does not hastily identify Saint Lubbock with Dionysus.</p> +<h2><!-- page 261--><a name="page261"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 261</span>CATANIA</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI<br /> +HOLY WEEK</h3> +<h4>PALM SUNDAY</h4> +<p>Being in Catania for Holy Week I went to the cathedral on Palm +Sunday. The archbishop in his yellow mitre, red inside +because he is also a cardinal, accompanied by nine canons in +white mitres and many priests and others, passed out of the +church by a side exit and proceeded to the western entrance, +which was closed against him. I heard him knock and +listened to the chanted dialogue which he carried on with those +inside. I saw the great doors thrown open and watched the +procession enter and pass up the nave among crowds of people who +waved palm-branches.</p> +<p>After this I called at the Teatro Sicilia, the marionette +theatre of Gregorio Grasso, and discovered that he was devoting +all the week to the Story of the Passion and would begin that +evening with the event which I had seen commemorated by the +procession in the cathedral. Here was an opportunity to see +something which I had often wished to see and about which I had +talked with Achille Greco and his sons in their theatre at +Palermo, where they also do the Passion in Holy Week, using a +play in verse written by Filippo Orioles of which they have a MS. +copy; but they have not performed it recently because it takes +too much preparation. Orioles wrote his play for living +actors, and it is laid out to get all the events into one +performance instead of being a series of seven performances +extending over a whole week as in Catania.</p> +<p>Gregorio Grasso took me behind, where one of his assistants, +Carmelo, showed me the preparations and told <!-- page 262--><a +name="page262"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 262</span>me about +the performance. The first scene was to be the meeting of +the Sanhedrin and the beginning of the conspiracy of Annas and +Caiaphas to destroy the Nazarene; this makes a firm foundation on +which the rest of the drama is built. The second scene +would be the departure of Christ with Mary; after that would come +the Entry with Palms into Jerusalem, and the evening was to +conclude with a cinematograph show.</p> +<p>As a rule in this theatre the back scene is only about a third +of the way down the stage, the figures appear in front of it and +are manipulated by men who stand on a platform behind, leaning +over a strong bar which runs along the top of the scene, their +heads, shoulders and arms being concealed by a piece of scenery +which falls just low enough. The entry into Jerusalem had +been prepared behind this back scene; it was a set group +representing Christ on the ass, surrounded by apostles carrying +palms, and was to be disclosed by the removal of the back scene, +the bar and the platform in front of which the meeting of the +Sanhedrin would be shown.</p> +<p>But I was not to witness the performance because Turiddu +Balistrieri wanted me to go to the Teatro Giacinta Pezzana and +see a special performance of <i>La Signora dalle Camelie</i> in +which he and some of his family, who are all artists, were to +take part. I could not go to both and chose Dumas because, +in the first place, being Turiddu’s compare it was my duty +to support the family. In the second place I had seen the +Entry with Palms at the duomo in the morning and had all the rest +of the week free to see the marionettes do the rest of the +story. So I went to the Teatro Pezzana in the +evening. It is a small place, small enough to have been +formerly used for marionettes, and was now being used by a +Society of Lovers of the Drama. Turiddu was presiding over +the box-office and had considered my requirements. He sent +me in with his young brother Gennaro, who found me a place, and I +saw a play which cannot be considered seriously except as an <!-- +page 263--><a name="page263"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +263</span>opportunity for the actress who undertakes the part of +Margherita Gautier. On this occasion it was undertaken by +Desdemona Balistrieri, Turiddu’s sister, a girl of fifteen +years and ten months, two years older than himself; I had never +expected to see so young a Margherita Gautier. She gave a +remarkable performance with nothing childish about it and +nothing—but it would be unbecoming in me to praise the +sister of my compare. Her grandmother, the old lady +referred to in Chapter XVII (<i>ante</i>) who slept in the piazza +after the earthquake, was Prudenza, and her mother, Signora +Balistrieri, was Olimpia and appeared between the old generation +and the young, joining and yet separating them. +Turiddu’s part was small; he was merely a page bringing a +letter or a message.</p> +<h4>MONDAY</h4> +<p>In the afternoon I went to the Teatro Sicilia and found +everything prepared for the evening. Christ and the +apostles were sitting at the supper-table as in Leonardo’s +fresco in Milan; not that they were imitating Leonardo, the early +mosaics and the miracle plays, influencing and +counter-influencing one another, must have determined the +composition of the representations of the Last Supper before +Leonardo’s time; he was not inventing, he was giving the +people something they were accustomed to see and the marionettes +were similarly following their own traditions. I do not +think the apostles were all in their usual places, S. John was +next to Christ, but Judas was at one end of the table—a +terrible fellow with shaggy black hair falling over his +face—and he had not spilt the salt. There was no salt +for him to spill. Signor Greco told me that when they +perform the Orioles play at Palermo, they use a horse-shoe table, +Judas sits near one end and not only spills the salt, but behaves +like a naughty child, putting his elbows on the table and +throwing the plates on the floor so that they break. On the +supper-table at Catania there <!-- page 264--><a +name="page264"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 264</span>was a +wooden model of a roasted lamb, with jointed neck and legs, lying +on a dish. There were plates with lettuces cut up, bread +and wine, oil and vinegar and oranges, all real. Each +apostle had a glass and there was a metal chalice for +Christ. I forget all the things that are on the table in +the chapel of the Last Supper at Varallo-Sesia, but I remember +they have ripe figs, which is a mistake, because figs do not +become ripe till later in the year. Oranges are at their +best in Sicily in the spring and lettuces are in season. +The audience understand this and know that lettuces are +appropriate for supper because they contain some narcotic, so +that a raw lettuce is often eaten after dinner. The supper +had been prepared in front of the back scene, and behind it, +ready to be disclosed at the proper moment, was the garden +wherein the capture of Christ was to take place.</p> +<p>Soon after seven o’clock in the evening I was sitting in +my room at the albergo and saw a great light which I supposed +might have something to do with the electric tram. After +this I heard a roaring noise which I supposed might be occasioned +by an explosive motor bicycle in the street. Then the glass +in the window rattled for a considerable time, which I supposed +might be due to a slight shock of earthquake. At about +half-past eight I went to the Teatro Sicilia. Gregorio and +his assistants were all outside, and received me with +congratulations on my courage; I was the only one of their +patrons bold enough to think of witnessing the performance, all +the others had been too much frightened by the +earthquake—if it had been an earthquake; and in about ten +minutes we shut up the theatre and came away. I went to the +Teatro Machiavelli to see what effect had been produced +there. There was some anxiety about the phenomenon, but +more, it seemed, as to whether enough people would come to make +it worth while to have a performance. We were waiting for +instructions when someone brought in a bolletino hastily prepared +in a newspaper office with an account of the <!-- page 265--><a +name="page265"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 265</span>avvenimento +celeste. We sat round and listened while one of the actors +read about the convulsion of nature, the trembling of the +palaces, the flashes of flame at a great height in the sky, the +terror of the inhabitants of Catania. Was the phenomenon of +telluric origin—Etna or an earthquake? Was it of +atmospheric origin—a thunderbolt or a waterspout? Or +could it be a miracle in the dictionary sense of something +contrary to the course of nature? No one knew. +Gradually a sufficient number of the public overcame their fright +and took places in the theatre; and thus I saw a play by Peppino +Fazio called <i>I Delitti del Caporale</i> of which I have +forgotten a great deal, but it contained one incident which I +have not forgotten.</p> +<p>There was a scene in the cottage of a brigand who lived with +his sister, he was out and she was alone. A corporal of +infantry entered and made infamous proposals which she rejected; +a struggle followed and was ended by the man shooting the girl +through the heart. Overcome by remorse and filled with +respect for the dead, he reverently raised the corpse, laid it +along the floor by the wall at the back of the cottage and +covered it with a sheet. He placed an oil lamp on the floor +so that the head, the breast, the hips, the knees and the toes +caught the light, while shadows fell in the depressions +between. He knelt in prayer and then crept from the solemn +scene on which the curtain slowly descended.</p> +<p>We were then transported to a country road outside the caserma +of the carabinieri; they were carousing and plotting how to take +the brigand. A countryman came and gave information on +which they settled a plan of action and the scene ended, but it +had occupied a good deal of time and had distracted the mind.</p> +<p>The curtain rose again on the brigand’s cottage. +Nothing had been moved. Three carabinieri entered +furtively, they noticed what was on the floor, lying by the wall, +but did not disturb it, they had other business in hand and +concealed themselves behind doors and furniture. There was +<!-- page 266--><a name="page266"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +266</span>a pause and the house was very still. The brigand +came home, noisily threw down his gun, clanked about the cottage +in his great boots, took his knife and his pistols from his belt +and banged them down on the table. As he turned he caught +sight of the sheet covering something the form of which was +emphasised by the oil lamp burning at its head. He did not +speak, but surprise and alarm seized him and appeared in his face +and in his attitude. He approached it, raised the sheet and +with a yell of terror and grief fell on his knees by the corpse +as he recognised his sister. The three carabinieri came +from their hiding and took him.</p> +<p>It was a typical drama for the Machiavelli. +Notwithstanding the want of variety in their plots—and the +title of one of their plays signifies as little as the title of a +London pantomime—I have seldom passed an evening there +without seeing some incident as striking as this return to the +house of death. They know how to do these things with a +simplicity and an apparent unconsciousness of the effect they are +producing which bring with them a strange astonishment.</p> +<p>This was not the corporal’s only crime, but to clear up +this one it may be added that the hand of the corpse clutched a +button which, in the struggle, the girl had torn off the +man’s coat; this led to his identification, and in prison +he met the brigand, who shot him and thus avenged the +murder. I have seen happy endings that were more +artificial.</p> +<h4>TUESDAY</h4> +<p>Compare Turiddu came early to inquire whether I was much +alarmed by the disturbance and to tell me what had +happened. A bolide had fallen into the Catanian +sea—he took me to the port and showed me precisely +where.</p> +<p>“It was near that ship,” he said.</p> +<p>The people had rushed to the cathedral to pray S. Agata <!-- +page 267--><a name="page267"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +267</span>to avert further harm. They also went to the +Piazza S. Nicola hoping it might be large enough to hold them all +in case there was an earthquake, for they were all thinking of +Messina. The sailors, believing that what they saw fall +into the sea was the moon, drew their boats up into safety. +The sea did rise, but only eight centimetres, not so much as it +would have risen if the moon had really fallen into it. +When the newspapers came out I read more particulars: that a +barber in the Via Lincoln had been so much frightened that he cut +the throat of the customer he was shaving, fortunately, however, +no damage was done as the wound was only skin-deep; that a woman +ran naked into the Via Garibaldi, not having time in her fright +to put any clothes on; that a waiter handing a dish to a lady in +the Birraria Svizzera dropped it on her silk dress, which was +ruined; and that a priest in the Quattro Canti was seen moving +his arms like an electric fan and was heard to exclaim “God +save me!” He did not say “God save us” +because he was an egoist.</p> +<p>It should be added that the article was written by Peppino +Fazio, who confessed to me that though these things may have +happened he did not see them. He found them in his +imagination. It should perhaps be added further that he +knows his public and is not afraid of being taken seriously.</p> +<p>I also saw an account of an interview with Professor +Riccò of the Observatory, who stated that an aerolite had +fallen out of the profundity of space and that it had not been +ascertained where it had struck our planet.</p> +<p>As no one had gone to the Teatro Sicilia on Monday the +marionettes were thrown a day late and the programme arranged for +the Monday was remanded to the Tuesday, like a festa. I +half feared I might be prevented again from seeing it because +some friends from England arrived in Catania for the night and I +did not know whether they would care to go. They were, +however, much interested when I made the proposal. We were +rather late, and <!-- page 268--><a name="page268"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 268</span>missed the Last Supper, arriving +just before the curtain rose on the garden. It was a +beautiful scene. Christ was kneeling at a rock in the +background, the disciples were sleeping in the foreground and the +wings were hidden by branches of real trees. An angel +descended with a cup from which the principal figure drank. +When the angel had departed there was a pause—the lights +changed and through the silence we heard the tramp, tramp of +approaching people; soldiers came on preceded by Judas, who +betrayed his Master with a kiss, Peter cut off Malchus’s +right ear, the Nazarene was taken and the curtain fell.</p> +<h4>WEDNESDAY</h4> +<p>Turiddu came in the morning and we conducted my friends round +the town. We went to the shop where the old Swiss +watchmaker sells the amber of which Brancaccia’s necklace +is made; we went to the market, where we ate a prickly pear, just +to see what it was like, and the man politely refused payment +because we were foreigners; in the market also we bought bergamot +snuff-boxes; we then showed them the port, where they bought +crockery, and the Villa Bellini, where they took photographs; +after which we went back to the albergo, where we had +luncheon. Then we accompanied them to the station and saw +them off for Taormina. Turiddu was as pleased as anyone, he +liked making the acquaintance of his compare’s English +friends and they thought him a delightful boy. Strictly +speaking they were not English; the two ladies were Inglesi +Americane, which Turiddu said he understood because his mother +had acted in the Argentina and, though South America is not North +America, it appeared pedantic to insist on the distinction. +The two gentlemen, again, were really Inglesi Irlandesi, and here +also we were in trouble because he mistook Irlandesi for Olandesi +and thought they were what we should call Boers.</p> +<p>After they had gone I went to the Teatro Sicilia to learn <!-- +page 269--><a name="page269"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +269</span>what I had missed by not seeing the Cena. Carmelo +told me that when Christ has spoken the words “This is my +body” he breaks the bread and gives each of the apostles a +piece. Judas does not eat his piece, he steals it and +leaves the room. In his absence Christ blesses the wine and +gives the others to drink, he washes their feet and they go out +to the Mount of Olives. This is followed by a scene of +Judas coming to Annas and Caiaphas, showing his piece of bread +and telling them that he had heard Christ speak blasphemy. +Carmelo explained that the priests were Hebrews—there were +Hebrews, he said, in those days, living in that country—and +Hebrews believe that bread is the Body of God; therefore for a +man—and they thought Christ was merely a man—to +declare that the bread was his body amounted to blasphemy. +This was evidence against the Nazarene; it carried the story on a +step and the plotting priests prepared everything for the +betrayal and capture of Christ—the final scene which we +saw.</p> +<p>I did not know, or had forgotten, that Hebrews were so +particular about bread, but Carmelo assured me that they never +throw bread away, and if they find a piece on the floor they pick +it up and put it in a hole in the wall and keep it. It may +be eaten, but may never be otherwise destroyed. I thought +of Ruskin telling his readers in <i>The Elements of Drawing</i> +that stale crumb of bread is better than india-rubber to rub out +their mistakes, but “it crumbles about the room and makes a +mess; and besides, you waste the good bread, which is wrong; and +your drawing will not for a long while be worth the crumbs. +So use india-rubber very lightly.”</p> +<p>“Are you a Christian?” asked Carmelo suddenly.</p> +<p>I was not embarrassed. A few days before, when one of +the priests at Tindaro asked me the same question, I replied that +I had been baptised into the Christian faith soon after +birth. The priest said that between the two Churches of +Rome and England there were unfortunate differences as to the +mysteries but I need not concern <!-- page 270--><a +name="page270"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 270</span>myself with +them. “Nature does not believe in the +mysteries,” said my priest, who was a most friendly person, +and as I had been baptised, if I lived a good life, and he was +politely certain I did, then I was a Christian. So I +considered myself justified in answering Carmelo’s question +in the affirmative.</p> +<p>In the evening I returned to the Teatro Sicilia; Carmelo put +me into a good place and this time I saw the whole +performance. The Nazarene was taken before Annas, Caiaphas, +Pilate and Herod. The priests taxed him with being a +magician. Herod proposed that he should perform a miracle +if he could, but Christ was silent and did nothing. Herod +therefore concluded that the priests were wrong and that Christ +must be mad. He directed that he should be clothed in white +and taken back to Pilate, and this was done.</p> +<p>We were then in the house of the Madonna, and S. John came and +told her and the other Maries all that had happened to her +son. Each of the holy women carried a handkerchief and the +lamentation became monotonous.</p> +<p>Judas had received the thirty pieces of silver and began his +remorse by taking them, in a red purse, back to the priests, who +scoffed at him and turned him out. His rage and despair +were extreme and gave the audience an opportunity to relieve +their feelings by laughing.</p> +<p>Before the last scene Gregorio in his ordinary clothes came on +and told the audience the programme for the next day. He +also apologised for presenting the Passion with marionettes, he +usually performs it with living actors, he himself being the +Nazarene. This year, however, he did not feel strong enough +to undertake the part or to get all the other actors together; +and he appealed to our consideration and begged us to accept +marionettes.</p> +<p>In the days when Giovanni Grasso acted in his own Machiavelli +theatre, before he went on tour and acquired his world-wide +reputation, they used to do the Passion there also, and he was +Judas. Sometimes he doubled his <!-- page 271--><a +name="page271"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 271</span>part and +did Annas as well, or Pilate or the good centurion, making any +necessary alterations in those places where his two characters +ought to have appeared together. It would be a great thing +to see Giovanni as Judas, but I suppose he will never do it +again.</p> +<p>I noticed that all the figures had been newly dressed and +painted for the occasion and the pupils of their eyes were +freshly varnished to catch the light. About the soldiers +there was still some reminiscence of paladins, but the principal +characters had been prepared with due regard to the works of the +great masters—though here again I suppose they were really +following the traditions of the theatre as preserved by the +pictures. The figures gained by hiding their legs, but +Joseph of Arimathæa and Nicodemus had not this +advantage. They were princes and were like Shakespearean +young men of the brilliant water-fly type, such as Osric. +Misandro was also a prince. He was a swaggerer and behaved +as badly as any paladin, but he was not a buffo. When they +do the Natività at Christmas a buffo is permitted, he +accompanies the Shepherds as their servant, and I should like to +see him. Misandro was all in golden armour, as fine a +figure as one could expect a Prince of Judæa to be. +He had a contrast in Claudio Cornelio the good centurion. +Claudio was left alone with Christ and confessed his faith, while +a bright light from the cinematograph box illuminated the stage +as though to signify that if we believe, all will become +clear. The most successful of the figures was Pilate. +He was in black with a red sash and his robes fell in folds of +great dignity.</p> +<p>The words were all declaimed either from memory or extempore, +and there were several speakers. The one who had most to do +did it with a great deal of energy, especially as Judas and +Misandro. Gregorio spoke for Christ and a woman spoke for +the women and the angels.</p> +<p>The Christ was of course a failure, in art all Christs are +failures, even the Christ in the chapels at Varallo-Sesia, even +the Christ in the pictures by the masters. The Child <!-- +page 272--><a name="page272"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +272</span>Christ may be a success, at least we can sometimes +fancy that that baby might become the Saviour of the World, he +reminds us of those babies we have all seen in real life with a +look in their eyes as though they had solved the riddle of the +universe. But the Man Christ does not convince; we only +tolerate him because we have been brought up to acquiesce in the +convention. The Christs of pictures and statues are not, +however, such failures as the Christ at Ober-Ammergau; by keeping +still and not trying to appear so real they leave more to the +imagination. If all these fail how can a marionette be +expected to succeed? Hiding its legs when it moves is not +enough. Gregorio knew he was attempting the impossible and +did his best to save the figure from being worse than it might +have been, but the result was rather as though it were all the +time apologising for having undertaken the part. He made it +move very little and very slowly, so slowly that the action of +the drama was interrupted. He allowed it no gestures, +except an occasional raising of the hand. He spoke for it +only the few words given to Christ in the gospels. When it +caused a miracle, there came a great light, as when the good +centurion confessed his faith, and there was music. When it +entered, the drum beat a Saracen rhythm and there was music +again. By these means the figure was detached from the +others and appeared as though belonging to another world. +When the marionettes do the Orioles play at Palermo, Christ +speaks much more than the words from the gospels and is treated +more like one of the other characters, at least nothing is done +to suggest that they are giving the Passion with the part of +Christ as nearly omitted as possible.</p> +<p>The music at Catania was faint and scrappy. +Gounod’s <i>Meditation on Bach’s First Prelude</i> +occurred frequently, but it seldom got beyond the first ten or +twelve bars, sometimes not beyond the second or third. And +there were similar short references to some of the more +sentimental melodies of Bellini and Verdi. It was not +intended to distract the <!-- page 273--><a +name="page273"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 273</span>attention; +it was rather to provide an unobtrusive background for the ear +against which the voice spoke, as the scenery was a background +for the eye against which the figures moved.</p> +<h4>THURSDAY</h4> +<p>This was the day for visiting the sepulchres in the +churches. Turiddu took me to the cathedral, and we saw a +procession moving slowly down the nave. It turned up one of +the aisles and entered a sepulchre which had been prepared, +passing between a double file of dismal creatures entirely +shrouded in white except for two eye-holes, like those ghouls +that issued stealthily from charnel-houses in German fairy tales, +and used to pursue me in dreams when I was a boy. One by +one the lights on the altar were extinguished, Phrygian cadences +dropped inconclusively from the choir above, the archbishop came +out of the sepulchre and the hooded ghosts crept with him. +A Dominican occupied the pulpit and began a sermon, but as we +could not get near enough to hear what he said, we came +away. Turiddu afterwards took me to visit a few more +sepulchres, and it was a gloomy business.</p> +<p>In the evening, at the Teatro Sicilia, the curtain rose on +Christ bound to the column, and there were two Turks armed with +scourges. They did not actually scourge him, it was enough +that they told Misandro they had executed their orders. +Peter denied his master and the cock crew thrice. While +Judas was continuing his remorse, Peter appeared to him, and, +confessing his sin of denying Christ, proposed to expiate it by +throwing himself into a well; he tempted Judas to follow his +example and preceded him to show the way. But we saw that +it was not really Peter, it was a devil. Judas was about to +follow the devil when an angel appeared and stopped him. He +was to die a different death, and not yet.</p> +<p>A tearful scene between mother and son came next; I <!-- page +274--><a name="page274"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +274</span>did not care for it, but the dream of Claudia, the wife +of Pilate, was, as Carmelo said, “una visione +tremenda.” In a dress of scarlet satin trimmed with +gold and lace, she sat in an arm-chair in a garden and went to +sleep. Christ appeared to her. She spoke to him, but +he did not reply, and as she woke he vanished. She slept +again, and Annas appeared to her in red fire, threatening her if +she yielded to the emotions which the vision of the Man of +Sorrows had raised in her heart. She woke in dismay as he +vanished. She slept again, and saw Pilate in hell +surrounded by devils. She woke in fright. She slept +again, and a devil appeared and talked to her, justifying +Pilate. S. Michele came and killed the devil.</p> +<h4>GOOD FRIDAY</h4> +<p>The Machiavelli was closed. At the Sicilia the +performance began with the trial of Christ. Pilate sat in +the middle with Joseph of Arimathæa and Nicodemus on his +right, Caiaphas, Annas, and Misandro on his left. Beyond +Nicodemus was the Nazarene in a red cloak holding a reed and +crowned with thorns; and beyond Misandro was Barabbas. +Pilate made the opening speech. Caiaphas then spoke for the +prosecution; the question in debate was whether Christ was the +Son of God, and he accused Christ of being a deceiver. +Nicodemus followed for the defence. Then Annas for the +prosecution. He said: “The voice of God is the voice +of the people.” He was followed by Joseph, who +maintained that the wonders performed by Christ were not done by +magic, they were miracles; that is he was not a magician, he was +the Son of God. Misandro spoke last.</p> +<p>Here a messenger arrived from Claudia telling her dream and +begging Pilate to go to her. The Court rose and Pilate went +home to comfort his wife, while the others talked among +themselves just as barristers do in the Royal Courts of Justice +in the Strand when the sitting is suspended.</p> +<p><!-- page 275--><a name="page275"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +275</span>Pilate returned and took his seat. He proposed to +liberate Christ and to sacrifice Barabbas. He presented +Christ to the people, saying:</p> +<p>“Ecce Homo.”</p> +<p>And the crowd shouted: “Not this man, but +Barabbas.”</p> +<p>Pilate ironically congratulated them:</p> +<p>“You are right, O ignorant People!” and, telling +Barabbas to go and thieve again, he liberated him.</p> +<p>Then the false witnesses came. One was a soldier, the +other a Turk. They took the oath to speak the truth and +nothing but the truth. They were both of them stupid and +comic, confused and contradictory, and made the audience laugh, +and when one of them admitted that he had been bribed, Annas in +his rage gobbled like a turkey.</p> +<p>Pilate closed the debate and washed his hands in a basin held +by a servant. Then he wrote the sentence and made Misandro +read it. The trial lasted a whole hour, the intention +being, I suppose, to reproduce that tediousness which is so +characteristic of real trials.</p> +<p>In the next scene Judas continued his remorse and +Peter—it was really Peter this time—came and +counselled him to ask pardon of Jesus, but he would not +listen.</p> +<p>Then came the journey to Calvary and the meeting with the +Daughters of Jerusalem and S. Veronica, Misandro ill-treating the +women and Claudio Cornelio protecting them.</p> +<p>The last scene was the Crucifixion. The thieves were in +place. At the back was the Cross lying on the ground. +The figure of Christ was nailed to it by a Turk with a hammer; +the Cross was raised; Misandro approved; the Turk gave the +sponge; Misandro reviled Christ, saying: “Thou that +destroyest the temple of God and buildest it in three days, save +thyself”; Christ and the thieves held their dialogue; the +Madonna and S. John stood at the foot of the Cross while Christ +spoke the sentences and inclined his head. Then there was +the earthquake, and we saw the souls in purgatory surrounding the +Cross and heard them welcoming their Lord.</p> +<h4><!-- page 276--><a name="page276"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 276</span>SATURDAY</h4> +<p>Compare Turiddu came early and we went to the duomo to see the +Gloria. The church was full and he told me to be careful +about my watch and my money because—“picketi +pocketi”; and then he asked me whether I understood those +two words which his mother had brought back from one of her +tours.</p> +<p>His Eminence, the Cardinal Archbishop, was conducting a +service in a side chapel—blessing the baptismal water, or +the font, or both, or perhaps doing something else, for Turiddu +is not such an authority on ecclesiastical matters as Carmelo is +on matters theatrical. He knows more than I do, however; it +was he who made me go to see the Gloria on the Saturday, without +him I should have missed it by waiting till the Sunday. The +western doors were thrown open and we looked through into the +sunshine and up to the arch that stands at the top of the Via +Garibaldi. The archbishop finished his service and returned +through the congregation to the space within the rails of the +principal altar. Behind him as he stood and concealing the +altar and the east end of the church hung a curtain from the roof +to the floor. There was chanting and movement among the +priests; they continually kept going and coming, disappearing +into the secret place behind the great curtain and reappearing; +they were preparing the mystery. Presently the curtain +shook and the congregation understood. The suppressed +excitement grew and a murmuring began, caused, I suppose, by +everyone telling everyone else, as Turiddu told me, that the +curtain was about to fall. Another instant—and its +fall revealed the Gloria.</p> +<p>Above the altar was a tomb and above the tomb was the figure +of the risen Christ triumphing over death; in his left hand he +held a banner and, with his right, he blessed the people. +There were lights, and sudden music from the organ and from the +choir; the deafening bells clanged and, through the great open +doors, we heard the sound of <!-- page 277--><a +name="page277"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 277</span>revolvers +being shot off into the air and of fireworks being exploded.</p> +<p>Turiddu could not see over the heads of the people; I lifted +him up, he looked at the Gloria and turning himself round in my +arms kissed me as he said:</p> +<p>“Buona Pasqua, Compare.”</p> +<p>Everyone was saying “Buona Pasqua” to everyone +else, everyone standing near a friend or a relation was +exchanging kisses with him or her as a sign of goodwill; many +were weeping for joy, and those who had been quarrelling became +reconciled, forgiving one another their offences and entering +upon a new life, vowing that, with the help of their Heavenly +Father, who had revealed to them the Mystery of the Resurrection, +they would from this day avoid all further disputes even though, +in order to perform the vow, it should be necessary to avoid one +another’s company. This is not imaginative writing, +like Peppino Fazio’s account of the effect of the bolide, +it is what I saw—the effect of the Gloria.</p> +<p>And the spirit of the Gloria floated down the nave and through +the open doors and out into the piazza, where the elephant of +lava stands over the fountain. It passed up the Via +Garibaldi, down the Corso, along the Stesicoro Etnea, it spread +itself through the city and became identified with the morning +sunshine.</p> +<p>“Come along,” said Turiddu, “let’s go +and buy a paschal lamb for mother.”</p> +<p>We followed the Gloria into the piazza among the fireworks and +the revolvers.</p> +<p>I said: “What about the plates, Turiddu? +Don’t the people throw the crockery out of window in their +joy? We must be careful.”</p> +<p>He replied that they only do that in the poorer parts of the +town, and they always look first to make sure that no one is +passing. But we had better be careful, all the same, +because the revolvers are loaded and the squibs are +dangerous.</p> +<p><!-- page 278--><a name="page278"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +278</span>He took me past the municipio, where the band was +playing, and we came to a sweet-shop, where paschal lambs made of +almond paste and sugar were flocking together on all the tables +and shelves. They were not like the one at the Last Supper, +they were in their fleeces and were standing or lying among +candied fruits and tufts of dried grass that had been +artificially dyed unlikely colours. Turiddu chose one, and +I sent him off home with it as an Easter offering of goodwill to +his mother.</p> +<p>Peppino Fazio was standing at a kiosk near the Quattro Canti +with two young cousins, buying button-holes of violas; he gave me +the one he had intended for himself.</p> +<p>“Wear this,” he said, “it is the +primavera. Proserpine has risen from the underworld, she +has returned to Enna and is scattering flowers again. Stay; +let us exchange; I will take another bunch and you shall pay the +man for it one soldo. Buona Pasqua.”</p> +<p>So we exchanged bunches. “Wear this,” I +said, echoing his words, “it is the primavera; the time for +visiting sepulchres is over. Proserpine has sent these +flowers down from Castrogiovanni by the morning train. +Buona Pasqua.”</p> +<p>In the next piazza, in the shadow of the statue of Bellini, +was one of the men from the Teatro Machiavelli; he had brought +out his dog and talked of going a-birding, he hoped it was not +too early for quail, he had already seen ripe strawberries in the +market. Buona Pasqua.</p> +<p>Then I came upon Joe, the Policeman, keeping order in the +street.</p> +<p>He said: “Buona Pasqua. You are very good-looking +this morning.” He meant I was looking very well, but +he will be so English.</p> +<p>I replied: “Buona Pasqua. But, my dear Joe, you +ought not to be wearing flowers in uniform, ought you?”</p> +<p>“It is the primavera,” he said. He also told +me that the revolvers and the squibs and the plates had not done +<!-- page 279--><a name="page279"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +279</span>much damage this year—perhaps ten or a dozen +accidents, but none fatal, so far as was yet known.</p> +<p>I went along the Via Stesicoro, not considering my steps +because I was looking up the street, wondering how long the +Gloria would take to melt the snow on Etna, and I stumbled across +Carmelo.</p> +<p>“Buona Pasqua, Carmelo, and have you been to church this +morning?”</p> +<p>No, he had been to the port with his friends to see the +steamer in which they were to go to Naples; there they would +change into another steamer and be taken to the States. +They had begged, borrowed, stolen, or, it may be, possibly even +earned enough soldi to begin their new life upon another soil and +under other skies in a new world. Buona Pasqua.</p> +<p>I returned to the albergo and found that Turiddu had been and +had left for me a characteristic Sicilian cake—a ring of +bread on one side of which, half embedded in the pasta, were four +new-laid eggs. This was accompanied by a note from his +mother begging me to accept it as her Easter offering of +goodwill. She was telling me more than that the hens had +begun to lay again. She was reminding me of how I had seen +her at the Teatro Pessana as the link between her mother and her +children, joining them and separating them like a passage of +modulation. I understood her to mean that for the future I +was to see an egg as a transitional something between the hen +that laid it and the chicken that will burst from its shell, as a +secret place of repose where the one is transmuted into the +other, as a sacred temple wherein is prepared a mystery of +resurrection. Mothers know some things that cannot be told +except in symbolism, and not very clearly then, symbols being as +perplexing as unresolved diminished sevenths which may be +understood in many different senses. I read the riddle of +the eggs in the sense suggested by the context of the Gloria, and +I think I read it aright, for in Catania on that Easter morning +we were all of one mind, we were all <!-- page 280--><a +name="page280"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 280</span>breathing +the Gloria, we were all filled with the spirit of the new life, +the spirit that animated also our far-away English monk as he sat +in his Berkshire cell making music for</p> +<blockquote><p>Summer is icumen in,<br /> +Lhude sing cuccu.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In the evening I went to the Machiavelli. The theatre +had been taken by a young amateur who carries on a business of +forwarding oranges and other fruit. He gave a performance +of one of Giovanni Grasso’s plays, <i>Feudalismo</i>, part +of which I was obliged to see because in the second act there is +a song sung behind, and Turiddu had been asked to sing it; on +such a day the claims of the family were stronger even than on +Palm Sunday. His voice has not yet broken, but if it turns +out to be as good for a man as it is now for a boy, he ought to +do well with it. I must not continue—it would be more +unbecoming in me to praise my compare for his singing than to +praise his sister for her acting.</p> +<p>After the song in <i>Feudalismo</i> there was time also for +the second representation at the Teatro Sicilia. The +performance began with the wounding of Christ. Then Annas +and Caiaphas discussed the question of whether, after all, they +might not have made a mistake in treating Christ as a +magician. They had been alarmed by the earthquake, the +atmospheric disturbances and the rising of the dead from their +graves. Could these phenomena signify that he was the Son +of God? And something else troubled them; on consideration +they did not like the wording of Pilate’s sentence. +They went to his palace, but Pilate was not disposed to listen to +their objections.</p> +<p>“What I have written I have written,” said +Pilate.</p> +<p>They had brought the sentence with them and pointed out to him +that he had condemned “il Re dei Giudei” the King of +the Jews and, inasmuch as condemning a king is a serious step and +might get him into trouble, <!-- page 281--><a +name="page281"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 281</span>suggested +that for his own safety he should add the letter “o” +to the word “Re.” This would make it that he +had condemned “Il Reo dei Giudei,” the Criminal of +the Jews. Pilate was persuaded and agreed to add the +letter. He went away and fetched his pen, which looked like +a feather from the tail of a hawk, and Annas held the paper; but +Pilate’s pen refused to write, it was wafted from his hand +by a power stronger than his, it hung in the air before their +eyes and fluttered away to heaven.</p> +<p>This miracle was accompanied by music; and, if I had been +consulted, I should not have advised the <i>Marcia Reale +Italiana</i>, because that composition, on account of its +inherent frivolity, has always seemed to me unfit for the +accompaniment of any manifestation of power. To despise +Bellini because he is not Schubert would be to adopt the attitude +of the buffo’s critic who escaped from Paris in the +teatrino at Palermo; nevertheless the countrymen of Schubert have +known how to appear before the world clothed in the solemn +splendour of Haydn’s majestic Hymn to the Emperor, while +the Italians come mountebanking along in an ill-fitting, +machine-made suit of second-hand flourishes, as though that were +the best they could lay their hands on. They have not done +themselves justice. But this is not the place for a +digression; before returning to Pilate and his visitors, however, +let me say distinctly that the music was the Italian <i>Marcia +Reale</i> played, not as the other scraps were played, but with a +loud and jaunty heartlessness as though the miraculous pen were +jeering at the priests:</p> +<p>“There! you didn’t expect that; now, did +you?”</p> +<p>Joseph and Nicodemus also came to Pilate begging the body of +Jesus. The priests objected, for they had not forgotten the +prophecy about building the Temple of God in three days, and they +feared trickery. Pilate compromised, granting the request +but setting a guard.</p> +<p>Next we saw the Descent from the Cross, effected by Joseph and +Nicodemus; and while the body lay on a <!-- page 282--><a +name="page282"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 282</span>couch, a +melancholy Miserere was sung behind. The Entombment +followed, the Madonna in black lamenting and weeping.</p> +<p>The last scene was in a wood, where Judas came to finish his +remorse. He refused all comfort and all the benevolent +suggestions of the angels who visited him. They told him +that God is ever willing to pardon the sinner who sincerely +repents and freely confesses his sin. It is with God always +as it is with men at the season of the Gloria. But the +wretched Judas could not think of repentance and confession; his +cowardly soul was not torn by sorrow for past sin, it was +paralysed by fear of future punishment; or we may have been +intended to understand that the road to perdition lies through +madness. He spoke three sentences, and the last word of +each was echoed by a diabolical voice and then appeared written +in letters of blood and +fire:—Giuda:—Dio:—Stesso. These words +made a sentence by themselves and signified: “<i>Judas</i> +is against <i>God</i> and against <i>Himself</i>.” +Faith, Hope, and Charity appeared to him separately; he would +have nothing to do with any of them and they all deserted +him. A devil approached and Judas trembled, knowing his +time had come. He went and fetched a rope, and with the +devil’s help accomplished his fatal destiny by hanging +himself to one of the trees of the wood, and as his wicked soul +came out of his mouth the devil greedily snatched it away and +carried it down to be eternally tormented in hell. It was +like an untidy black hen.</p> +<h4>EASTER DAY</h4> +<p>I had to go into the country for the night, and so was obliged +to miss the Resurrection as presented by the marionettes. I +did not, however, much mind, because I had seen the Gloria in the +cathedral, where the Christ over the altar was modelled much +better than any figure in the theatre. Besides, I called on +Gregorio in the course of the <!-- page 283--><a +name="page283"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 283</span>day and had +a talk with him and his son, Angiolino, who told me what is done +on the last evening of the drama, and showed me the +preparations. The first scene, representing the tomb, was +nearly ready. After the curtain rises there is an +earthquake, and Misandro comes to see whether the watching +soldiers are doing their duty; he finds them asleep and wakes +them. This is repeated, and the third time Misandro sees +the tomb open with a loud noise and a bright +light—“like the bolide,” said Angiolino. +Christ rises, and Misandro, seeing the actual Resurrection, is +convinced that Christ is the Son of God and not a magician; he +goes to spend the rest of his life preaching the gospel among the +heathen. I did not ask what music accompanies the miracle +of the Resurrection; I confess I was afraid to do so after what I +had heard accompanying the flight of the pen. If I had been +consulted here I should have advised silence to suggest that no +music could be found suitable for the tremendous mystery that was +being accomplished. But I do not think such advice would +have been accepted.</p> +<p>Then Herod is ill and commands Pilate to send Jesus to cure +him. Pilate commands the priests to produce Jesus, +reminding them that he had washed his hands; but each of the +priests accuses the other of being responsible, and so they enter +upon their eternal punishment of mutual recrimination.</p> +<p>Christ appears to the Magdalene, to Luke, to Matthew and to a +contadino. He takes two of them to a tavern, where he +breaks bread and vanishes. So they recognise him and go to +tell the good news to the Madonna and the other holy women. +Doubting Thomas is convinced. Jesus breathes the Holy +Spirit upon them and they receive the gift of tongues. The +last scene is the Ascension, and Christ as he is received into +heaven speaks words of comfort to his mother, telling her it will +not be long before she joins him.</p> +<p>The marionettes were behindhand with their Gloria, because the +bolide having transferred Monday’s programme <!-- page +284--><a name="page284"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 284</span>to +Tuesday had syncopated the succeeding performances into +counterpoint of the fourth order, and everything that happened +after that was one beat late. Had they moved concurrently +with the Church, and reached the Resurrection on the Saturday, +they would have repeated it on the Sunday to fill up the time +till Easter Monday, when they were to return to <i>Erminio della +Stella d’Oro</i>, a story of romance and chivalry invented +by Angelo Grasso, the father of Gregorio and of Giovanni.</p> +<p>I asked Gregorio where he had found the particulars for +Misandro and the remorse of Judas and for the dream of +Pilate’s wife and the pen that flew away. He replied +that he did not know where they came from, they are traditional +in the theatre and had probably come out of the libraries. +As to Judas and the angel preventing him from drowning himself in +the well, I asked whether they have in Sicily the saying about a +man being born to be hanged and whether any allusion was +intended. Angiolino said they have such a saying, or +something like it, but it had never occurred to him to suppose +that any allusion was intended, it might be so, but he thought +not.</p> +<p>The Christ that had been prepared for the Resurrection in the +Teatro Sicilia was not the marionette that had been on the Cross; +the stigmata were there, the spear wound was wanted in the scene +with Thomas, and the people were free to take it as being the +same figure with all the other marks of suffering removed, or +they might think it was a different one, or they might come +behind the scenes and find out for themselves as I did. +Dwellers in another planet, if they watch the recurrence of the +mystery of our spring, may think the flowers they saw sinking +into the earth last autumn return again with the marks of decay +removed, they cannot come behind our scenes and make sure; but we +know that a new generation is born. The marionettes are not +didactic; if the people choose to see in the Resurrection of +Christ any one of Nature’s ageless mysteries they may do +so; they may see the birth of the <!-- page 285--><a +name="page285"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 285</span>younger +generation, the blossoming of fresh flowers after winter, the +awakening to a new day after sleep; or, if they prefer it, they +may see the resurrection of their own dead bodies at the sound of +the Last Trump—one of those mysteries in which, as my +priest at Tindaro told me, Nature does not believe, and with +which I need not concern myself.</p> +<p>I do not think they saw in it any of these meanings. At +Ober-Ammergau the play is presented so that Mendelssohn need not +have hesitated to advise the late Prince Consort to honour a +performance with his presence. In the Teatro Sicilia other +tastes have to be consulted. I think the audience looked on +at the Passion of Christ as they are accustomed to look on at +<i>I Delitti del Caporale</i> or <i>Feudalismo</i> or at the +<i>Story of the Paladins</i> or <i>Erminio della Stella +d’Oro</i>; if they suspected any symbolism or mystery, the +melodrama with which they were saturated provided a context that +determined the direction of the resolution. They saw wicked +priests conspiring with a cowardly traitor and an overbearing +bully to bring about the destruction of an innocent man. +They saw the innocent man passing through misfortune and in the +end triumphing over his enemies by means of a happy ending, which +reminded them of the happy ending of a Machiavelli play, when the +hero returns from prison and the bad people are punished. +They saw a mother weeping for her son, but they saw no allusion +to Ceres weeping for loss of Proserpine, although their +Castrogiovanni was her Enna—just as Angiolino saw no +reference to Judas having been born to be hanged, although they +have the saying in Sicily, and he is the son of the house. +I do not think they saw any significance in the fact that this +mystery of the Death and Resurrection of the God is repeated +every spring. I imagine that the point made by Joseph of +Arimathæa in his speech for the defence, that the wonders +done by Christ on earth were miracles and were not occasioned by +magic, was lost upon them. It would take a long time to +make one of them <!-- page 286--><a name="page286"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 286</span>understand that la Durlindana, the +sword of Orlando, was a magical sword and not a miraculous +one. And yet this distinction between miracle and magic was +the pivot of the plot as it was presented to them. If they +had felt themselves lifted out of their ordinary routine I do not +think they would have done what they did after the curtain had +fallen on the section of the story presented each evening.</p> +<p>At the Machiavelli they are accustomed to remain for the farce +and the Canzonettisti Napoletani which close the performance; so +at the Sicilia they remain for the cinematograph. Every +evening during Holy Week the programme posted up at the door +concluded with these words “Indi Cinematografo,” and +there were always three parts to the show. First there was +cruelty—victorious tyrants forcing conquered queens to +drink their lovers’ blood, or some horror of the +Inquisition, or the barrel of Regulus bumping down-hill and +coming to smash at the bottom. The second part was a modern +comedy carried on in Parisian drawing-rooms or on board an +electric launch on an American river. The third part was +always a wild farce and usually contained an impossible +chase. Not till after the cinematograph had concluded its +show did the audience go away contented.</p> +<h2><!-- page 289--><a name="page289"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 289</span>ORTIGIA</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII<br /> +O FOUNTAIN ARETHUSE</h3> +<p>When “Arethusa arose From her couch of snows In the +Acroceraunian mountains” she had scarcely reached the age +at which women begin to dream of love. She spied the +approaching river-god Alpheus and, to preserve what was dearer to +her than life, for she was a nymph of Diana, plunged heroically +into the earth. Alpheus, who had reached the age when men +desire to act, plunged in after her. They flowed along +inside the ground and under the sea, he following her, all the +way from Greece to Sicily and, according to the recognised habit +of gods and demi-gods believed to be dead and buried, they rose +again. The place of Arethusa’s resurrection is the +island of Ortigia, but, although I have the story from the +fountain head, it all happened so long ago that I have not been +able to ascertain whether Alpheus rose there or at a spot on the +mainland of Sicily nearer Etna where S. Alfio is the patron +saint, and although the “e” in Alpheus takes the +stress and the “i” in Alfio does not, nevertheless, +the custode of the spring, who was himself my informant, may +confuse the two names. The difference between the versions +is that between tragedy and comedy. If they, the pursued +and her pursuer, rose in the same place it can hardly be that he +did not catch her. If he rose somewhere else, then she may +still preserve her everlasting virginity and they will neither of +them ever reach the age when experience teaches both men and +women to regret. She will be ever flying, he ever pursuing, +like the maiden and the lover on that Grecian Urn which an +eminent authority, baffled in his attempts at identification, +thinks was “probably imagined” by Keats.</p> +<p><!-- page 290--><a name="page290"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +290</span>I possess a Bible and Prayer-book bound together in one +volume which was given me on leaving Rottingdean by my sincere +friend, the master of the preparatory school there. It +contains, just before the First Chapter of Genesis, a +Chronological Map “with remarkable persons and events +collaterally placed.” I remember how I used to +mitigate the tedium of divine service by reading to myself that +the creation of the world occupied one of the weeks of the year +4004 B.C.; that Egypt was founded about 2190 B.C.; that Troy fell +about 1180 B.C., seventy years or so before the birth of King +David; and that Homer and Elijah flourished contemporaneously +between 1000 and 900 B.C. My schoolmaster wrote my name in +the book with a suitable inscription and a reference to Psalm +cxix. 105. I turned up the passage and drew the conclusion +that he desired his gift to be a lantern unto my feet and a light +unto my paths. And so it was until other knowledge, the +rudiments of which he had himself endeavoured to impart to me, +threw glimmerings across my way and I passed through a distracted +period of inability to distinguish the signals of danger from +those of safety. Much the same thing has happened to many +others and assistance has sometimes been found in compromise and +accommodation. Thus the statement about 4004 B.C., when +read by the light of another statement in the Book, does not +seriously conflict with the teachings of modern science. +Until further knowledge shall eclipse the few feeble lanterns +that are now doing their best to illuminate my course I shall +continue to hold the opinion that, as in the sight of Him, who is +the Life of the Universe, a thousand years are but as yesterday, +so in the sight of man, who has been God’s image upon earth +for more ages than anyone can tell, six thousand years are but as +last week. And I shall keep my thousands in a condition as +elastic as may be necessary to bear any stretching that future +discoveries may put upon them.</p> +<p>It was many thousands of such weeks ago, when Mother <!-- page +291--><a name="page291"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +291</span>Earth was herself in her infancy, before her baby bones +had hardened, that Arethusa first came to the island she has made +her home. She is still coming and can be seen to-day still +rising as fresh as ever. The story of the early days of her +exile was not told by Clio because Clio was only a modern +Agamemnon in history, many a brave muse had flourished before she +was thought of. One of them took for her infinite papyrus +the firmament of space, those heavens which shall one day be +rolled together as a scroll, whereon she inscribed chapters in +stars and volumes in constellations. We cannot see all her +works, nor can we read all we see, but we know that she put us +into one of her books. A few paragraphs of that chapter +which forms our planet lie scattered around Siracusa; we +recognise her manuscript in the shape of the Great Harbour, in +the depth of the sea, in the height of the hills, in the strata +of the rocks, in the soil, in the vegetation.</p> +<p>There were early muses who employed flint implements and +arrow-heads for records, and neglected to clear away the remains +of prehistoric meals in caverns. Others preferred to write +their chronicles upon pots, urns and tombs or to scrawl placid +monosyllables upon polygonal walls. But with all their +industry the muses have never been able to keep pace with the +material that has accumulated round the dwellings of men and +women. They have done their best and, when their mother +Mnemosyne began to fail and the business was split up first into +three, then four, seven, eight, and ultimately into nine +departments, it was hoped that a better result would be shown; +but they have never had an adequate allowance, and have always +been in financial difficulties, besides which they have disagreed +among themselves, and quarrelling wastes time.</p> +<p>Clio in her matter-of-fact way built a storehouse wherein to +preserve her treasures; her curious, imaginative sisters peeped +through the key-hole.</p> +<p>“Dear me!” they said to one another. +“What a <!-- page 292--><a name="page292"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 292</span>collection! Do you think we +could get inside and see it properly?”</p> +<p>They waited till Clio went one day with Neptune to pay a visit +to the Ethiopians “who lie in two halves, one half looking +on to the Atlantic and the other on to the Indian Ocean,” +they induced Vulcan to come and pick the lock for them and soon +they were roaming all over the palace.</p> +<p>“How admirably arranged!” exclaimed one of +them.</p> +<p>“It must be nearly exhaustive!” said another.</p> +<p>“Observe the collateral placing of remarkable persons +and events,” said a third.</p> +<p>“One could find almost anything one wanted,” said +a fourth.</p> +<p>“Ah!” they exclaimed; “oh! now if only we +could manage to get a little life into some of these dead bones, +how pleased Clio would be!”</p> +<p>They rifled the show-cases and carried off the most attractive +details, each taking whatever pleased her best. They stole +from Clio her transient facts and made them live again as their +own by breathing into them the spirit of eternal truth and +re-stating them in folk-lore, in tradition, in verse, in romance, +in melody, in superstition, in outline, in colour, in modelling, +in the movements of the dance; they set them up in libraries, in +concert-rooms, in picture-galleries, in theatres, in churches, in +corridors of sculpture, in the hearts of the people. This +was not what Clio had intended; she was not at all pleased; she +complained that her sisters had meddled, they had robbed her of +her chief possessions and left the remainder in disorder; her +collection no longer corresponded with the catalogue. In +attempting to reconstruct she floundered into such blunders that +the saying has come down to us: Blessed are the people that have +no history, for they shall not be misrepresented.</p> +<p>Strictly speaking, of course, every man has history, such as +it is, and the beatitude was intended to refer only to those +whose history has escaped the attention of the muses <!-- page +293--><a name="page293"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 293</span>as +that of Arethusa did for many ages. We know enough, +however, to guess that her exile cannot have been passed in +solitude and, if only we had her Visitors’ Book complete, +we should have something that would keep many learned persons +busy. We get an early glimpse of her on her underground +journey, passing near enough to the dread abode of Pluto to +overhear some scandal about</p> + +<blockquote><p> That +fair field<br /> +Of Enna where Proserpine, gathering flowers,<br /> +Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy Dis<br /> +Was gathered.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>She did not fully understand, but the nymph Cyane, who dwelt +in another fountain up the river Anapo and remembered the affair, +gave her full particulars; she made a mental note of it all and +imparted the information to Ceres, who came weeping and telling +her grief as she wandered the world in search of her lost +daughter.</p> +<p>Venus, in one or other of her manifestations, was and is a +welcome visitor; she rises from the sea as constantly as Arethusa +falls into it, and some little time ago gave the nymph, for a +keepsake, a portrait of herself as Venere Anadiomene done in +marble. I know enough about painting not to be afraid to +own that I know nothing about it, whereas with regard to +sculpture my ignorance is so unfathomable that I can have no +hesitation in saying what I think about this statue, which is +that it is a pity it has been broken. If only it had its +head and its right arm it would be an entry of which the owner of +any visitors’ book might well be proud. It is now in +the museum of Ortigia, where there is also a marble portrait of +Cupid as he comes riding into the Great Harbour mounted on his +dolphin’s back.</p> +<p>Diana, sailing through the night, seated in her silver chair, +comes regularly to Ortigia. Arethusa always receives her +with the respect and honour due to her Queen and Huntress, chaste +and fair. Some centuries ago she <!-- page 294--><a +name="page294"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 294</span>built her a +temple with Doric columns and everything handsome about it; she +put inside it a statue of the goddess, and the people forsook +their old deity, whatever she was called, and went to the new +temple worshipping Diana.</p> +<p>Phœnician traders came and did business with Arethusa, +some of it not very straight business; for Ctesius, the king of +the place, had a woman-servant, very tall and comely, who was +from their own country; they cajoled her in ways that no woman +can resist and, partly by means of “a necklace of gold with +amber beads strung among it,” induced her to go away with +them one evening, and she took with her out of the palace three +cups and the king’s son, a child just able to run +about. She may have thought of taking the boy because she +had herself been kidnapped from Sidon, brought to Ortigia and +sold to Ctesius. Before they had been a week on the voyage, +Diana struck the woman dead and the traders threw her body +overboard to the seals and fishes. We should never have +known her tragic end but for the fact that the <i>Odyssey</i> was +written by a woman jealous for the honour of her sex. The +boy was afterwards sold to Laertes, the father of Ulysses, in +whose service he put on immortality as the swineherd +Eumæus. <a name="citation294"></a><a href="#footnote294" +class="citation">[294]</a></p> +<p>Early Greeks also did business with Arethusa and left with her +vases, gold rings, glass beads, ivory combs and other objects +which she still preserves in her museum. Later on, in quite +modern days, about the time that Rome was being founded, less +than eight centuries before Christ, other Greeks came from +Corinth, turned out the Sikels and established a colony of their +own in Ortigia.</p> +<p>After this Arethusa was no longer among those who have no +history in any sense of the word. The records become less +scanty, even voluminous, and they are more legible. The +books are full of the great names of her visitors and of those +native to her island. We read of the Tyrants, of +Æschylus and Pindar, of Theocritus and Archimedes; of <!-- +page 295--><a name="page295"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +295</span>the great siege when the Athenians failed to take the +city; of Cicero coming to view the locality when preparing his +speeches against Verres; of the five parts into which ancient +Siracusa was divided, namely, Ortigia, on the island, and those +four others with the beautiful names on the mainland, Achradina, +Tyche, Neapolis, Epipolæ, the memory of whose former +splendour still trembles among their ruins.</p> +<p>I do not know whether Ptolemy Philadelphos actually visited +the nymph, but I have read somewhere that the papyrus which now +grows where she rises was originally a present from him. It +does not look so healthy as that which grows in the Fontana Cyane +up the river Anapo across the harbour, and which he also sent to +her.</p> +<p>About three hundred years after the statue of Venus was made, +S. Paul, being on his way to Rome, was shipwrecked at Malta, +where he remained three months. He sailed away in the +<i>Castor and Pollux</i> of Alexandria, landed at Siracusa and +tarried there three days. We know what S. Paul must have +thought of Diana from the account of what happened at Ephesus, +where the goddess was also worshipped; it is probable that he was +among those who disbelieved in the eternal virginity of Arethusa, +and he surely must have disapproved of the frequent visits of +Venus and Cupid. In time the people of Ortigia professed +themselves converted to his views and made a change, but they +made it in a half-hearted way; for instead of pulling down the +heathen temple, so that not one stone should be left upon +another, they allowed the Doric columns to remain and merely +filled up the intercolumniations with building material and +baptised it into the Christian faith with a coat of whitewash and +a new name. In other respects they went on very much as +before.</p> +<p>Saracens visited the nymph, and Normans; Egyptians, Germans, +Goths, Spaniards, Frenchmen, Albanians all came and all +bequeathed some record of their coming. Many of them left +their autographs written one over the <!-- page 296--><a +name="page296"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 296</span>other upon +the forms and features of the ancestors of those who still have +their dwelling in her island.</p> +<p>Lord Nelson on his way to the Nile, where the papyrus came +from, sailed into the Great Harbour with his fleet and did +business with the nymph. He wrote to Sir William and Lady +Hamilton:</p> +<blockquote><p>Thanks to your exertions we have victualled and +watered; and surely, having watered at the fountain of Arethusa +we must have victory.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>What a picture these words call up of Arethusa welcoming +Nelson’s jolly tars! They are coming in their +pinnaces and filling their barrels and kegs with the waters of +the sacred spring and, as they row back across the harbour to the +ships, one can almost hear them singing of “Tom +Bowling,” “Black-eyed Susan” and “The +Roast Beef of Old England.”</p> +<p>I have myself seen the German Emperor visiting Arethusa. +His yacht, the <i>Hohenzollern</i>, was in the Great Harbour, and +one afternoon I watched his suite being put ashore in little +boats, like Nelson’s sailors, only there was no singing, +and presently he came in a little boat and they all drove away in +carriages to the Cappuccini, where I read in the <i>Giornale di +Sicilia</i> that they inspected the latomia and took tea. +They passed quite close to me and, although I had never seen His +Majesty before, I was bold enough to raise my hat to him; he +observed my salute and most affably returned it. I thought +him looking extremely well.</p> +<p>The Kaiser landed at the Passeggiata Aretusa, a promenade that +runs under shady trees between the Great Harbour and the cliff on +which the city is built. It leads south to a garden, and +further progress appears to be blocked by a buttress of the +cliff; but the buttress is pierced by a tunnel, through which a +path leads to another garden lying in an enclosure protected from +the harbour by a wall which encircles it; the wall slopes down +and on the top of it runs a path up which one can <!-- page +297--><a name="page297"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +297</span>walk and so enter the town without returning through +the tunnel.</p> +<p>In this enclosure is the famous Fontana Aretusa, but there is +nothing about it that reminds one of the fountains of the Crystal +Palace or of Versailles. One first catches sight of a pond +and then of a spring bubbling into it with irresistible +volubility at the north end; at the south end the water tumbles +out into the harbour through a hole in the sea wall. The +surface of the pond is below the level of the passeggiata and +probably the bed of it is below the level of the water in the +harbour, so that, as Cicero observed, it is the wall that keeps +out the waves and if the hole had been pierced lower the pond +would be submerged by the sea. On the sides of the cliff +and on the wall grow plants with aromatic leaves and flowers, and +one can walk round the pond and watch the fish which are, or +ought to be, the descendants of those which Cicero saw, as they +swim about among the roots of Ptolemy’s papyrus. The +water is not now used for washing, but I suspect that the +Sidonian woman who stole the little Eumæus was so using it, +for she was washing near the ship of her countrymen when they got +into conversation with her, and their ship would be moored in the +Great Harbour, close by the fountain.</p> +<p>I drank of this water, following the example of all visitors +and of many of the inhabitants who believe it to produce a +beneficial effect upon the digestion. It may have been good +enough for Nelson, and I trust that the digestions of his sailors +derived benefit from it—anyhow, they had victory at the +battle of the Nile—but for a modern Londoner, accustomed to +do business with the Metropolitan Water Board, it is too salt, +which is perhaps why the papyrus here looks less flourishing than +that up the Anapo. The water tastes as though Arethusa had +been the heroine of another story besides the one with the +uncertain ending about Alpheus—one with Neptune as the +villain and an ending tragic enough to justify S. Paul in his +<!-- page 298--><a name="page298"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +298</span>attitude towards the nymph. Some who adopt this +view suppose that Neptune’s designs were forwarded by an +earthquake which, they think, must have occurred since +Nelson’s time, because he speaks as though he gave his +sailors the water of the spring; but that is not enough to date +the disturbance. It is some distance from Greece to Sicily, +and along all those miles, during all those ages, there may have +been many earthquakes, any one of which would have served +Neptune’s turn; some may have been before S. Paul’s +time, some before Eumæus was born, some in still earlier +days. If the earthquake had already been, Nelson must have +observed the brackishness of the spring and he would then have +preferred to take his water from the usual fresh source which +supplied the inhabitants of his day, and, in speaking of +“having watered at the fountain of Arethusa,” he +would be trusting to Lady Hamilton’s familiarity with that +figure which permits the part to be put for the whole.</p> +<p>I have visited Arethusa many times. Once, on a calm +evening in early summer, Diana was high up in the sky, shining +over the harbour; although, like others, she may not have been +sure which was her temple and which was Minerva’s, she +could not help wondering whether anything was ever going to be +done about openly restoring them both to their ancient +worship. She was, however, comforting herself in the +meantime with the reflection that neither she nor Minerva had +much to complain of, inasmuch as it was clear that if it were not +for the support of those Doric columns the modern Church would +not stand as it does, and after all, she thought, +“What’s in a name?” Down below in the +passeggiata, officers and young men were strolling about, +listening to a pot-pourri of <i>Faust</i>. Their cheeks +were shaved smooth to show the modelling and their moustaches +gave evidence of hours of toil and even suffering; they met their +friends and gesticulated with them, smoking cigarettes and being +polite to everyone. Mothers and elder sisters in cool white +dresses sat under the trees, <!-- page 299--><a +name="page299"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 299</span>and little +parties of children darted away from them, hand in hand, +returning after breathless excursions. I took a seat among +it all and, as the King of Thule, in honour of his lady, was +drinking for the last time out of his golden cup, a young voice +over my shoulder demanded two soldi. I turned and thought I +recognised the speaker; surely he must have left his dolphin in +the Great Harbour where the Phœnician traders used to moor +their ships, and put on his sailor suit at the Custom House.</p> +<p>“Very well, Cupid,” I replied, “I +don’t mind giving you two soldi, but why do you ask as +though you were entitled to them? And why do you wear that +red tam-o’-shanter? And how old are you, if you +please?”</p> +<p>He said he was seven and the cap was his uniform; he was +collecting the pennies for the chairs. So I gave him two +soldi and another for himself and saw him scamper happily away +and join a knot of brother Cupids who were playing together round +a lamp-post. He showed them the soldo I had given him for +himself and the meeting became as ebullient and full of +excitement as the Arethusa herself.</p> +<p>He reappeared while Siebel, with the voice of a clarinet, was +beginning to tell the flowers what they were to say to +Margherita. This time he brought a foreign penny and wanted +to know why they had refused to take it at the marionette +theatre. I looked at it and said:</p> +<p>“If you want to know about this coin, mount your dolphin +again and direct his course to distant Argentina, the people of +that country will tell you all about it and will give you its +full value. You will have a delightful voyage and, if I +were not such a bad sailor, I believe I should ask you to take me +with you.”</p> +<p>It seemed, however, that his dolphin was tired and I was to +give him ten centimes down and done with it. He was such a +jolly little fellow that just for the pleasure of seeing him +smile again I gave him the soldi in exchange for his coin and he +danced away in delight.</p> +<p>Margherita in prison was crazily recalling the strains of <!-- +page 300--><a name="page300"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +300</span>the waltz she had heard—Ah, what ages ago it +seemed!—when she was yet a happy girl, as pure as Arethusa +in Hellas, and through the waltz I heard the young voice again +over my shoulder. He was asking me to give him bronze for +an Italian nickel piece of twenty centesimi. It was a bad +one. I told him so and accused him of attempting to utter +counterfeit coin. He laid his two hands on his breast, +raised his elbows, threw back his head with conscious innocence +and swore on the honour of his mother that the coin was +good. He did it so well—so beautifully—that for +a moment I was tempted to wonder whether he might perhaps be +speaking the truth, but I glanced again at his coin and recovered +myself.</p> +<p>“Now look here, Cupid,” I said, “I +don’t want to breathe a syllable against the honour of your +mother, but you know better than anyone that when a woman loses +her head you are generally to blame. This is your +doing”—and I took out of my pocket and showed him a +post-card I had bought that morning in the Via Roma with a +reproduction of the Venere Anadiomene. “And men also +have lost their heads because of you. I am not the only one +who has heard about the Duca di Bronte and Lady Hamilton. +Look round at these beautiful ladies and at these brave officers +and young men—do they not bear upon their forms and +features the signatures of Arethusa’s foreign +visitors? You ought to be able to decipher that palimpsest, +if anyone can, for it was you who taught them to write; Ortigia +would never have seen them if it had not been for you. And +why are they sitting under the trees and walking about in the +moonlight, do you suppose?”</p> +<p>He replied that they had come out to listen to the music and +he wished there were more of them because then he would get more +pennies.</p> +<p>“What!” I exclaimed; “people who do not even +recognise a modulation to the dominant when they hear one come +out to listen to music! You know better than that. +They have not come out because of Gounod, they <!-- page 301--><a +name="page301"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 301</span>have come +because of you. It is always the same old story. It +was your fault that Alpheus chased Arethusa out of Greece and +that Proserpine was carried off from Enna. It was you who +suggested to those Phœnician traders that the nurse of the +little Eumæus would be good company for them, and you who +made her consent to go. This music, of which I should have +heard more this evening but for your frequent interruptions, you +were at the bottom of it all. And it is because you are +always hanging about the theatre that those wretched puppets are +so constantly going mad for love of one another.”</p> +<p>He pouted and said I was making myself disagreeable and that +there had been plenty to praise him.</p> +<p>I replied: “Yes; you swallow the praise, but you +won’t listen to the blame.”</p> +<p>He said that as for the praise or the blame it was nothing to +him one way or the other. He was too much interested in the +future of the race to care about any of those old +stories—they bored him—and, please, wouldn’t I +leave off preaching and give him four soldi?</p> +<p>I replied: “You have immortal youth without the +troublesome necessity of periodically dying and rising again; on +that stage of the world where we mortals, untrained amateurs, +improvise the drama of our lives, you have always been behind the +scenes, inspiring and stage-managing more history and more poetry +than has ever been written; without you Clio would never have +built herself a treasure-house or, if she had made one, her +sisters would have found in it nothing worth stealing; it is you +who direct the modulation from the old generation to the young; +it is your voice that is heard every Easter behind the bells and +the music of the Gloria. And now you ask for riches! +No wonder we complain that you are unreasonable. Can you +not be satisfied and, in looking after the future of the race, +put a little more variety into its history and its poetry? +Why do you so often begin a story as comedy and end it as +tragedy? It is unworthy of you to play fast and <!-- page +302--><a name="page302"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +302</span>loose with us; great poets do not do so. But +there! you are too young to know what conscience is, and I am +afraid you are too old to learn.”</p> +<p>He replied that he was not accustomed to be talked to in this +way and did not know what I meant by it.</p> +<p>I said: “Very well, I will leave off preaching, and +perhaps you will allow me to conclude with a piece of advice that +ought to be acceptable to one whose ambition it is to become a +millionaire. You cannot have forgotten where you put your +mother’s head. Now, be a sensible boy for once, run +away and find it, take it to Dr. Orsi up there in the museum and +he will give you plenty of soldi for it—more than you can +count, and no questions asked about honour.”</p> +<p>He laughed and said I seemed to take a good deal of interest +in the personal appearance of his mother who, he thought, could +be trusted to look after herself, and that so long as a +woman’s heart was in the right place it did not much matter +what she did with her head. Besides, even if he were to +find the head, he knew nothing about business and a scientific +man in a museum would be sure to get the better of him.</p> +<p>There is no resisting Cupid, so I let him think he had got the +better of me, gave him four soldi and added his coin to my +collection of similar pieces, while he frisked away back to his +friends boasting of his success, as Cupid will. He had not +quite done with me, however, he came once more to see whether I +should be likely to give him a cigarette, but a rough man caught +him, told him not to worry the gentry, boxed his ears for him and +drove him from me.</p> +<p>Fancy boxing the ears of a young Greek god off a +dolphin’s back within sound of the Fontana Aretusa!</p> +<p>And yet, perhaps the rough man was right. I have +sometimes thought since that it cannot have been really Cupid who +came to me that evening; I must have been wasting my time and +money, as others have done before, upon some false god, false as +his counterfeit coin, one of those who go <!-- page 303--><a +name="page303"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 303</span>up and down +the world seeking whom they may despoil. Well, let it be +so. One does not keep an account of the hours and minutes +one spends in a country where the existence of time is scarcely +recognised, and as for the money—of all the multitudes of +men who have been fooled by Commerce in the guise of Love only a +few have had the luck to escape with a total loss not exceeding +four-pence half-penny.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">the +end</span></p> +<h2>NOTES.</h2> +<p><a name="footnote60"></a><a href="#citation60" +class="footnote">[60]</a> This table—</p> + +<blockquote><p> —is +much merrier than usual this evening.<br /> +Enrico! I drink to the health of your sister.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="footnote61a"></a><a href="#citation61a" +class="footnote">[61a]</a> This table is not dirty, it is +clean.<br /> +Enrico! Eat, and do not pay attention to them.</p> +<p><a name="footnote61b"></a><a href="#citation61b" +class="footnote">[61b]</a> The animal<br /> +Will not do it any harm.</p> +<p><a name="footnote61c"></a><a href="#citation61c" +class="footnote">[61c]</a> Now that I have eaten I am no +longer fasting;<br /> +I drink to the health of Enrico, who is a poet.</p> +<p><a name="footnote61d"></a><a href="#citation61d" +class="footnote">[61d]</a> I also, if I may make so bold, +wish to drink the health of Enrico who desires to hear me sing; +for a year I have not seen you, O, my dear brother! Come +to-day and I will sing you <i>Otello</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote62"></a><a href="#citation62" +class="footnote">[62]</a> To-day I feel inclined to eat a +fig;<br /> +I drink to the health of Signor Enrico.</p> +<p><a name="footnote183"></a><a href="#citation183" +class="footnote">[183]</a> Best wishes for your +festa. Thanks for the intellectual evening and for the +coffee. Greetings—no more, for fear of making our +friend Antonio jealous.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Your most devoted Enrico.</p> +<p><a name="footnote294"></a><a href="#citation294" +class="footnote">[294]</a> <i>The Authoress of the +Odyssey</i>, by Samuel Butler.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CASTELLINARIA***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 25077-h.htm or 25077-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/0/7/25077 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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