SERENADES IN SICILY AND NAPLES.
“We reached Alcamo in the evening; a well-built town, that contains above 8,000 inhabitants. It was built in the year 828, on the fruitful hill Bonifacio, by the Saracen Adalcamo, or Halcamo, who came from Africa; but its site was removed by the Emperor Frederick the Second to the plain in which it now stands.
“Alcamo boasts of having produced famous men; and, among others, Ciullo del Camo, who is generally called Vincentio di Alcamo. He was the contemporary of Frederick the Second, and is supposed by some to be the first who wrote poetry in the Italian language; at least, he was one of the first Italian poets. As it was Sunday, we were not surprised to see a great part of the inhabitants tumultuously crowding the streets, for this is a custom through all Italy. They begin on the Saturday evening, after the labour of the week is over, to collect in the market-places and streets. He who should be unacquainted with their manners, would imagine that some extraordinary event or insurrection had caused them to assemble; for they usually speak all together, with loud voices, rapid articulation, and animated gestures. In the midst of their violent contentions, you every moment expect they will seize each other by the throat, and are agreeably surprised to hear them end in a loud laugh.
“Thus it was at Alcamo, where the streets seemed to be in an uproar till after midnight, when singing and music began; yet, as early as three in the morning, the people were going about, crying aloud the bread and meat, which they sold to the workmen that were preparing for their labour in the fields. The Sicilians, like the Italians, need but little sleep, and willingly part with that little for any diversion; hence the custom of serenading ever has and ever will prevail. Horace, in the ninth ode of his first book, speaks of the serenades of his days. He has been, hitherto, misinterpreted by some commentators; and, although the manners of the south of Italy and of Sicily might have pointed out what the poet intended to describe, yet I should probably still have misunderstood him, if a lucky accident had not informed me of the true meaning of the verse.
“A volume of the Gazette Littéraire de l’Europe fell into my hands at Naples, a journal which gave extracts from the commentator, Abbate Galiana, a writer who died some years ago at Naples, a man of understanding, and famous for his numerous works. I do not believe that the whole of his commentary has yet been made public.
“The ode of which I am speaking begins—
‘Vides ut alta stet nive candidum
Soracte.’
—Horace, 1. i. Od. 9.
‘Behold Soracte’s airy height,
Made heavy with a weight of snow.’
—Francis.
‘Lenesque sub noctem susurri
Composita repetantur hora.’
‘An assignation sweetly made,
With gentle whispers in the dark.’
—Francis.
have generally been understood as if the poet spoke of social friends who met together in the evening. But why should they speak in whispers? And why at an appointed hour? Is not the unexpected visit of a friend often the most pleasant?