fireworks are the great outward signs of religious rejoicings; and we have often wondered how the Sicilians contrived to show their piety before gunpowder was invented.
Nothing can be prettier, when viewed as a mere spectacle, than one of the streets down which a procession is to pass; extempore chapels are erected here and there, fitted up with small altars covered with lighted tapers placed round the figure or picture of the Saint, with a canopy of crimson and gold hangings, relieved by others of blue and white, also covered with spangles; near the most important a band is generally stationed. Similar hangings are suspended across the street at intervals from house to house, and a large altar, guarded by a couple of soldiers, and with several rows of lights, but without a canopy, stands in some conspicuous situation; the flowers and other decorations being often beautifully arranged. On all the great festivals the portraits of the king and queen used to be placed againt the walls of the different public buildings under a crimson canopy. The procession takes place in the afternoon or evening, according to the season; it blocks up the whole street through which it proceeds. The statue of the saint is borne by a confraternity of the class of which he or she is the patron, and is preceded and followed by flags, music, priests, monks, and rabble.
In the evening, fireworks, more or less grand, according to the means of the respective churches, and the amount of subscriptions raised, are let off, with crackers innumerable. I have been told, with what truth I know not, that it is from the Spaniards that the Sicilians derive their passion for fireworks, which is certainly carried to an almost incredible extent, for scarcely a summer’s evening passes without rockets ascending from some quarter or other, and often in all directions.
Half the night after a festa is spent in dancing, singing, and feasting al fresco; something particular is eaten in honour of each saint. The day after the “festino” was over, the people went into the gardens in the neighbourhood and ate figs, perhaps not a bad diet after the five days and nights of almost alarming excitement they have been spending. I used to wonder that half Palermo did not depart this life at that season. On Santa Lucia no bread is eaten, or anything farinaceous, such as macaroni or pasta, rice and potatoes being substituted.
On San Francesco di Paolo, the statue of the saint is carried in solemn procession from his own church to the Duomo, but as he is the patron of gardeners, he is first taken to a garden, where they all assemble, and eat salad in his honour; the saint out of gratitude invariably sends rain in some part of the day, which does more good than any that may fall throughout the year. On Saint Peter, all the cakes and bonbons are made in the shape of keys. On San Martino, nothing is to be seen but a sort of biscuit bun, and for three days before the first and second of November, the shops are filled with large dolls of sugar, painted in various colours. I asked what became of them all, and was assured they were every one eaten. A fair is also held down the Cassaro, when all kinds of presents are bought and hidden in the house, and, on the second day, the “giorno de Morti,” the children are made to hunt for these things, which they are told the dead have brought them in the night; they are sometimes even woke up to hear the noises made by “i morti.”
On Christmas-eve, here, as at Naples, vast quantities of very large eels are devoured. We were at one supper-party where the eels had been fed on purpose, and sent from our hostess’s estate on the other side of the island. It is considered almost a duty to partake of them, as emblematical of the destruction of the old serpent, supposed to precede the advent of the Saviour into the world, according to the traditions of this branch of the Christian Church.
On Easter Sunday, the archbishop used to send the governor a large dish of a particular sweetmeat.
Coming from Naples, we were struck by the almost total absence of national costume, but at the same time we noticed the peculiar style of dress of many of the women. On inquiry, I found these dresses were vows, and varied according to the saint addressed. One peculiarity, however, they all have,—two long ribbons hanging down like the ends of a sash; the only exception is the “Santo Padre,” as they call San Francesco di Paolo, because he is the oldest, whose dress is brown and black, but who is not particular as to whether his votaries wear a sash or not, so long as the gown is in some way trimmed with black; light blue, with a white sash, is dedicated to the Immacolata; blue, trimmed with black, to the Addolorata; black, with blue, to Santa Rosalia; dark blue and red, to St. Joseph; but I might go on through all the primitive and most of the secondary colours. One more, however, I must describe—it is so graceful, particularly for young girls: the gown is plain black silk, with a large, clear muslin apron, with four or five tucks, and a long white sash; a white muslin veil, placed on the comb of the back hair, falling partly over the shoulders. To a pretty girl, with black hair and eyes, this dress, which belongs to Santa Lucia, is very becoming. So universal is this custom, that a woman in the lower classes, when speaking of a colour, never calls it by its proper name, but by that of the saint to whom it is dedicated; and even in a shop, on wishing to see a stuff of any particular shade, asks for a Santa Rosalia, an Immacolata, &c. Scandal hints that when a woman cannot dress as smartly as her neighbours, she occasionally makes one of these vows for a twelvemonth, which not only accounts for the sameness of her attire during that period, but also gives her the means of indulging afterwards that passion for fine clothes so general at Palermo.
The processions themselves are generally very similar to those in Italy; the only one offering any very remarkable peculiarity is that on Corpus Christi. The Cassaro was lined with troops, and at the Quattro Cantoni officers on horseback were stationed: a small baldacchino was suspended over the middle of the piazza. The statues of the different saints were borne along the Cassaro on the shoulders of the respective confraternities, some of the members preceding and following with lighted torches and drums beating. Each saint was set down for a few minutes under the