Chapter 16

_The Allegorical Sense of the Parable_

17. _The Wicked Man in Prosperity_ contented with his state and persisting in evil, a fit subject for reproof. A voluptuary and a miser, magnificently attired, is clasping to his heart a purse full of money and a bunch of flowers and corn.

18. _The Divine Warning_.--A prophet who contemplates the preceding figure threateningly while he records the fatal sentence: "Thou fool; this night thy soul shall be required of thee."

19. _The Punishment of Tribulation_.--Divine Love that desireth not the death of a sinner. A celestial winged messenger carrying a scourge: "Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth."

20. _The Remorse of Conscience_.--The awakening of Repentance. A man in sorrowful garments expressing the emotions of his heart, now weeping, now confused, now raising his eyes to Heaven, now looking on the serpent that gnaws his heart.

21. _The Contrite Sinner_ hearkening to the whisperings of grace. A penitent, his heart pierced by an arrow, weeping and carrying a scourge: "Against Thee only have I sinned and done this evil in Thy sight."

22. _A Holy Minister_ supplicating the Crucifix with these words: "A broken and contrite heart, O God, shalt Thou not despise."

23. _Divine Grace_.--A beautiful girl in white with a transparent veil, radiant and joyful, carries a branch of palm.

24. _Peace of Mind_.--The soul reconciled with Jesus Christ. Jesus of Nazareth comforting the soul and opening His arms to receive her: "Come my Beloved, my Bride."

25. _The Soul_.--A lovely maiden, modestly clad, with precious gems on her bosom and a garland of white roses on her brow: "My Beloved is mine and I am His."

26. _The Joy of the Angels_.--They appear as nymphs and sing a hymn of glory to God and of welcome to the repentant sinner.

27. _The Holy Cross_, decorated with flowers and rays of glory, carried on high by a seraph.

28. _The Holy Virgin with the Cross_.--It is partly wrapped in a precious cloth and the Madonna, full of joy and lovingkindness, invites the people to kiss the holes from which the nails have been drawn.

29. _Calatafimi_.--A handsome, smiling youth in Trojan attire devoutly offering his heart to the crucified Saviour with these words: "Thy blessing be upon us evermore."

* * * * *

A stranger had arrived at the albergo and Donna Maria did not know how to manage unless he supped with me; I was delighted to make his acquaintance and to have his company, especially as he turned out to be an ingenious French gentleman with a passion for classification. He had come from Palermo and spent the morning at the Temple of Segesta which had pleased him very much and given him no difficulty. It was architecture--a branch of painting. His plans were upset by the rain and, instead of returning to Palermo, he had come on for the night to Calatafimi, where he arrived in time for the procession of _The Prodigal Son_ which had interested him very much but puzzled him dreadfully. He could not classify it.

"Why not procession--a branch of drama?" I inquired.

He said it was perhaps not so simple as I thought, and that he had been trying unsuccessfully to work it in with his scheme. I begged him to expound his scheme, which he was so ready to do that I suspected he had intended me to ask this.

"There are," he said, "three simple creative arts. In the first, ideas are expressed in words; this is literature. In the second, ideas are expressed in the sounds of the scale; this is music. In the third, ideas are expressed in rigid forms either round, as in sculpture, or flat, as in painting. We may call this third art painting, that being its most popular phase."

"I see your difficulty," said I. "If drama is not one of the arts, the procession cannot be a branch of drama. But I think the drama is one of the arts all the same."

"Please do not be in a hurry," said the French gentleman. "Any two of these arts cover some ground in common where they can meet, unite and give birth to another distinct art related to both as a child is related to its parents, and inheriting qualities from both. It is to these happy marriages that we owe drama--the offspring of literature and painting; song--the offspring of literature and music; and dance--the offspring of music and painting. This gives us altogether six creative arts.

"And now observe what follows. In the first place, these six arts exist for the purpose of expressing ideas. In the next place, painting is without movement, its descendants, drama and dance, inherit movement, the one from literature, and the other from music. Again, inasmuch as a painter must paint his own pictures, painting does not tolerate the intervention of a third person to interpret between the creator and the public. The painter is his own executive artist; when his creative work is done, nothing more is wanted than a frame and a good light. Literature permits such intervention, for a book can be read aloud. Music and song demand performance, and will continue to do so until the public can read musical notation, and probably afterwards, for even Mozart said that it does make a difference when you hear the music performed; while in the case of the drama and the dance the performers are so much part of the material of the work of art that it can hardly be said to exist without them. Is not this a striking way of pointing the essential difference between the creative artist and the executive?"

"Very," I replied. "I am afraid, however, that you have not a high opinion of the executive artist."

"I will confess that he sometimes reminds me of the proverb, 'God sends the tune and the devil sends the singer.'"

I laughed and said, "We have not exactly that proverb in English, though I have heard something like it. It can, however, only apply to the performer at his worst, whereas you are inclined to look upon him, even at his best, as nothing more than a picture frame."

"And a good light," he added. "Don't forget the good light. Frame or no frame, a picture presented in a bad light or in the dark is no more than a sonata performed badly or not at all."

"Well, let us leave the performer for the present and return to your second trio of arts. Are you now going to combine them, as you did the first, and raise a third family in which a place may be found for such things as processions?"

"That," he replied, "may hardly be, for there is no couple of them that has not a parent in common. But there is no reason why any two or more of the six arts should not appear simultaneously, assisting one another to express an idea. Thus an illustrated book is not drama--it is literature assisted by painting. And so a symphony illustrating a poem is not song--it is music assisted by literature, or vice versa, and is sometimes called Programme Music. When we look at dissolving views accompanied by a piano, we are not contemplating a dance--we are looking at painting illustrated by music; and, if there is some one to explain the views in words, literature is also present. When you come to think of it, it is rare to find music and painting either alone or together without literature. Except in the case of fugues or sonatas and symphonies, which are headed 'Op. ---' so-and-so, or 'No. ---' whatever it may be, music usually has a title. And except in the case of such things as decorative arabesques and sometimes landscapes, painting usually has a title. The opportunity of supplying a title is peculiarly tempting to literature who produces so many of her effects by putting the right word in the right place."

I said that this was all very interesting, but what had become of the procession? He replied that he was giving me, as I had requested, a preliminary exposition of his scheme.

"Comic opera," he continued, "is drama interrupted by song and dance. Grand opera is the simultaneous presentation of most, perhaps all, of the six arts. There is no reason in nature against any conceivable combination; it is for the creative artist to direct and for the performing artists to execute the combination so that it shall please and convince the public. And now, _revenons a nos processions_, where can we find a place for them?"

"Surely," said I, "some such combination will include them--unless they have nothing to do with art."

"I have thought that perhaps they have nothing to do with art, for art should not be tainted with utility; but religious pictures are tainted with utility just as much. Besides, I do not like to confess myself beaten."

It was plain the procession was not going to be allowed to escape. I considered for a moment and said--

"I suppose we may not classify the procession as literature assisted by dance, because literature ought to have words and dance ought to have music."

"The words are not omitted," he replied; "they are in the little book. Besides, we have the story in our minds as with programme music. The omission of the music from the dance is more serious. It may be that we shall have to call it a variety of drama, as you originally suggested."

"Oh, but that," I replied modestly, "was only thrown out before I had the advantage of hearing your scheme of classification. May it not be that--"

"I have it," he interrupted. "Of course, how stupid I have been! The procession does not move."

"Does not move!" I echoed. "Why, it moved all through the town."

"Yes, I know; but things like that often happen in classification," he replied calmly. "Properly considered, each figure and each group illustrated a separate point in the story, and was rigid. They went past us, of course; and if they had gone on cars it would have been less puzzling; but these good people cannot afford cars and so the figures had to walk. It would have done as well if the public had walked past the figures, but that would have been difficult to manage. The only movement in the procession was in the story which we held in our minds, and of which we were reminded both by the title and by the little book which we held in our hands. The procession must be classified as literature illustrated by living statuary, or sculpture, which, of course, is a branch of painting."

I regret that the French gentleman left Calatafimi so early next morning that I had no opportunity of ascertaining whether he slept well after determining that processions do not proceed.

PALERMO