"Il sol si oscura,
E in fin la terra
Il sen disserra
Per grand dolor;
Morto è il Signore!
O Peccatore,
Se tu non piangi,
Sei senza cuor!
"Deh, madre mia,
Con quant' afflitto,
Piangendo, al Petto,
Stringi Gesù!
Io, l'ho fer ito,
Ma son pentito—
Non più peccati,
Non più, non più!
"Dal tuo sepolcro,
Non vo partire,
Senza morire,
Ma qui starò;
Finchè 'l dolore
M'uccida il core,
L'alma piangendo
Qui spirerò!" &c. &c.
The Capucins live on a hill in the only good air in the vicinity of Syracuse; in their precincts we found ourselves fairly attacked on Luther's quarrel, and expected to take up cudgels ecclesiastic on that worn-out controversy—one of our Capucins vaunting himself ready and able to bleed for the truth. Liberal ideas are not common in the cloister. "You aver," said he, "that Roman Catholics may be in a way of salvation; we by no means return the compliment—but as both Lutherans and Calvinists agree in believing thus charitably of us, and not of one another, it seems a pretty strong argument in our favour." With such high subjects did our apparently very much in earnest friends entertain us, in a garden planted amidst those quarried prisons of the captive Athenians. A man attempted to-day to put off some bad coins upon us, which we recollected to have had offered to us by another hand—still we only hinted that they were forgeries, and declined purchasing. While this was in progress, another person came up properly introduced, with an enlarged spleen, which was certainly authentic. We tell him that such indurations of viscera require a very long time indeed for removal: and that malaria is their origin This convent possesses one of those revolting vaults, which dry up and preserve the corpse in the form of mummy; a huge trap-door flapped its wooden wings, and gave us admission into a large subterranean apartment, wherein we presently stood in the midst of defunct brethren arranged along the walls, as if they stood in chapel at their devotions! On the floor thirty or forty light boxes looked like orange chests, with custom-house hieroglyphics on their lids; but they were marked with proper and even high-sounding names, and were in fact the coffins of barons, counts, and prelates, transported here to have the benefit of the air, and there accordingly they lay unburied, to profit by the antiseptic qualities of the soil. We looked at a baron or two, and saw something like a huge caterpillar beginning to change into a chrysalis; a grub mummy dressed out in old Catanian silk, and so enveloped in cobwebs, that you could with difficulty make out the central nucleus of shrivelled humanity. "Questo," said our cowled conductor, "è il Barone Avellina, morto di cholera, anno ætatis fifty-six; he loved our order! here is another equally good-looking personage," said he, exposing a corrugated face and dark hair, frightfully at variance with a blue silk handkerchief, and all the funeral gear of twenty years ago. This was another victim to that awful visitation; his feet and hands were covered with faded herbs, rosemary, and lavender; first placed in the coffin at the time of his decease, and renewed every year by friends, when the cobwebs of the year preceding are brushed away. One elder, the pride of the collection, had lain in his court-suit for nearly a hundred years, the aforesaid aromatics having kept off the moths all this time. The room felt dry, and, except for the company, what one calls comfortable. Knee-buckles and shoe-buckles, and steel-hilted swords, do not rust here, and white cravats and embroidered waistcoats might almost return to the world! The Capucins themselves are disposed in niches, and each has a text from Scripture over his cowl. "Do you prepare these mummies?" we enquire "Nienti preparati, signor! We only lay them to dry in yonder room over a sink, and when they have lain four months, we take them out and complete the process in another room, where the sun comes; after which we dress them and place them here." These Capucins, they tell us, are the strictest of all sects of Franciscans. From the sights of the mummy chamber, we see at least that they are not idle, and must always have a job on hand. Females, if not Catholic, are here admitted to see the grounds, and they offer wine and bread for our refreshment, which we, thinking of their wallets, decline on the plea of anorexia. Near the Capucins is the Church of San Giovanni, a singularly wild spot, in the midst of bad air, and within reach of the Ear of Dionysius. We descend with a fellow filthier than the filthiest Capucin, calling himself a hermit, to guide us in the vast catacombs over which the hermitage stands. It was a trial to follow him—the rank woollen dress, uncleansed till it falls to pieces, diffuses an odour which, in such confined passages, is particularly unpleasant. Cleanliness, says an English proverb, is next to godliness; but, in cowled society, it assuredly forms no part of it. Catacombs, in general, are called interesting—we never saw one in which we did not pay heavy penalty for gratifying curiosity. Those of Syracuse are vast indeed; spacious arcaded streets intersect each other in all directions, and your walk throughout lies between lengthening files of niches, cut into the walls for coffins, tier above tier, like berths in a steamboat, conducting here and there into a circular apartment, with a cupola and a central aperture, looking out upon the wild moor above.
Sharks, Fireflies, &c.
We form to-day the acquaintance of an intelligent medical practitioner and collector in natural history, from whom we learn that there are eight different species of dog-fish (Squalus) along the Syracusan coast. This animal, to the popular fame of whose injurious exploits we had hitherto yielded unabated confidence, appears fully to justify his West Indian character. An "ancient mariner" told us, that full forty miles from Syracuse, a shark, which had been following him for a long time, thrust his head suddenly out of the water, and made a snap at him; and if the boat had not been a thunny boat, high in the sides, there is no saying how much of him might have been extant! A pair of trousers drying in the sun over the side of the boat should have small attraction for a shark, but he took them on speculation. At one of the principal thunny fisheries near Catania, the fishermen have fixed upon poles, like English kites on a barn-door, pour encourager les autres, two immense sharks' heads as trophies—the jaws at full gape, exhibiting four sets of teeth as sharp as harrows, and as white and polished as ivory. They always wish to decline any dealings with this formidable foe, though his flesh is in repute in the market, and he weighs from two thousand five hundred to four thousand pounds. But Syracuse has no reason to complain of scarcity, or to eat shark's flesh from necessity; most of the Scomber family,—the alatorya, the palamida, and a fine gray-coloured fellow which the fishermen call serra, frequent her coast; then there is the Cefalo—the ancient mugilis, our gray mullet—and the sea-pike, Lucedimare, whose teeth and size might well constitute him lieutenant to the dog-fish,—all these came to table during our stay; but we did not meet with one very superior fish known to the ancients as the Lupus, (labrax of the Greeks,) which abounds when in season, and is known in every comfortable ménage along the Sicilian coast; his Linnæan name is sparus. On the shore are to be picked up occasionally two small kinds of shells peculiar to Sicily, of which our intelligent acquaintance is so obliging as to give us specimens. We never saw or heard of a firefly in Sicily. Professor Costa of Naples, though he doubted the fact of there being none, had never seen any in his frequent entomological trips to that island. This beautiful insect, so common about Florence and Rome, and in central Italy, is extremely rare about Naples; nor does this seem to be from their disliking the sea, for we never saw so many as at Pesaro, on the Adriatic;—no insect, then, is more volage, or uncertain as to place, than the firefly. The only poisonous reptile of Sicily is the viper, of which there seem to be several varieties. A beautiful blue thrush (Turdus cyaneus), a great talker, much prized, and high-priced too, when he has been taught to speak, is found in the rocky clefts about Syracuse. The heat and brilliancy of the sunshine render it extremely difficult, we are told, to preserve collections in natural history. All the water drunk here is rain water. The butter, fruit, and vegetables of Syracuse are, in the month of May at least, bad, very bad; but its Muscat wine, its Hybla honey, and its fish, are all of superior quality.
The honey of that hill needs not our praise,
——"quæ nectareis vocat ad certamen
Hymetton,
Audax Hybla, favis."
For ourselves, after tasting the confection of the Attic as well as of the Sicilian bee, we know not which is the greater artist, or which operates on the finer material; but the best honey in Europe, in our opinion, comes from the apiaries of Narbonne.