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.
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.
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
revolvers being shot off into the air and of fireworks being exploded.
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:
“Buona Pasqua, Compare.”
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.
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.
“Come along,” said Turiddu, “let’s go and buy a paschal lamb for mother.”
We followed the Gloria into the piazza among the fireworks and the revolvers.