Castellinaria, and Other Sicilian Diversions Part 18

"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 pa.s.sed 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 s.p.a.ce between them; but I knew that there was always the same s.p.a.ce 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 s.p.a.ce are not as our laws. Art is trying to get the people to realise that a thing happened, not to teach them precisely when."

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 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 circ.u.mstances 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.

"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 _Giornale di Sicilia_ 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?"

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 _Scenes de la Vie de Boheme_ paints the guests in modern evening dress at a _Marriage in Cana of Galilee_ 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 s.h.i.+ps in the port, but probably has never herself travelled in either. Her father or her brother has perhaps been fis.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+eld of Achilles was for Homer, what the Falstaff scenes in _King Henry IV_ were for Shakespeare, or what the Escape from Paris was for my buffo in Palermo.

MOUNT ERYX

CHAPTER IX THE COMPARE

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 n.i.g.g.e.r 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:

"Faceva cavallerizza."

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 d.u.c.h.ess saw him performing and, on account of his agility and his attractive physiognomy, fell in love with him. She was an Egyptian d.u.c.h.ess 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 cla.s.s, frequented by Russian princesses and American millionaires.

I told Michele about this and he a.s.sured me that his proposal concealed no equestrian circus and no Egyptian d.u.c.h.ess; 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, a.s.sured 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 circ.u.mstances.

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 velocita. 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.

The arrival of the bishop cut short the sagrestano's 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 repet.i.tion 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.

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:

"Excuse my not bringing more."

In calling Emanuele her compare, Carolina Greco was not speaking very strictly; the relations.h.i.+p exists between her father and Emanuele's brother, whose child he held; but family relations.h.i.+ps 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.

A compare is, however, primarily he who holds a child at its baptism, and this, no doubt, is why S. Giovanni Battista 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 relations.h.i.+p of compare which exists between Peppino and myself is closer than that of padrino and figlioccio which exists between Ricuzzu and myself.

The first step in establis.h.i.+ng the relations.h.i.+p 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 Ign.a.z.io'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.

A fourth kind of compare is the Compare di Parentela; the name is used for those relations.h.i.+ps 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.

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 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 relations.h.i.+p could be established by our going into the country on the 24th June, the day of S. Giovanni, and exchanging cuc.u.mbers 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 friends.h.i.+p. 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 _Pot of Basil_ in an equally transmissible form, but as he does not read English he would not have understood; so I sent him a young cuc.u.mber about three inches long. The ceremony was complete, and we are as good a pair of compari as any in the island.

Thus there are five kinds of compari, namely:--

1. The Compare di Battesimo.

2. The Compare di Cresima.

3. The Compare di Anello.

4. The Compare di Parentela.

5. The Compare di San Giovanni.

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 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 burnis.h.i.+ng a pair of painted tops, the thin gentleman advanced.

"My friend," said the thin gentleman.

"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."

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.

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 friends.h.i.+p. 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:

Dagli amici mi guardi Iddio Che dai nemici mi guardo io.

May G.o.d protect me from my friends For I can protect myself from my enemies.

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?"

But these are exceptional cases.

CHAPTER X COMPARE BERTO

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 _Noah's Ark and the Universal Deluge_ (_Diversions in Sicily_, 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.

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 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 s.p.a.cious plain was cooling after the heat of yesterday; behind us, the sea was drowsily patting the sh.o.r.e 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.

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:

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.

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 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 Ign.a.z.io'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: