FASCINATION.
"Quærit _Franciscus Valesius, Delrio, Gutierrus_, et alii,
unde vulgaris ilia fascini nata sit opinio de oculo fascinante
visione et ore fascinando laudando."--De Faseinatione
Fatatus. A. D. 1677.
I have in Chapter Fifth mentioned several of the subjects to attain
which the Will may be directed by the aid of self-hypnotism, preceded
by Forethought. If the reader has carefully studied what I have said
and not merely skimmed it, he must have perceived that if the power be
fully acquired, it makes, as it were, new existence for its possessor,
opening to him boundless fields of action by giving him the enviable
power to acquire interest--that is to say agreeable or profitable
occupation--in whatever he pleases. In further illustration of which I
add the following:
_To recall bygone memories or imperfectly remembered sensations,
scenes and experiences or images_.
This is a difficult thing to describe, and no wonder, since it forms
the greatest and most trying task of all poets to depict that which
really depends for its charm on association, emotion and a chiaroscuro
of the feelings. We have all delightful reminiscences which make
ridiculous Dante's assertion that
"There is no greater grief than to recall in pain
The happy days gone by;"
which, if true, would make it a matter of regret that we ever had a
happy hour. However, I assume that it is a great pleasure to recall,
even in grief, beautiful bygone scenes and joys, and trust that the
reader has a mind healthy and cheerful enough to do the same.
What constitutes a charm in many memories is often extremely varied.
Darkly shaded rooms with shutters closed in on an intensely hot
American summer day. Chinese matting on the floors--the mirrors and
picture frames covered with _tulle_--silence--the scent of magnolias
all over the house--the presence of loved ones now long dead and
gone--all of these combined form to me memory-pictures in which
nothing can be spared. The very scent of the flowers is like musk in a
perfume or "bouquet" of odors--it _fixes_ them well, or renders them
permanent. And it is all like a beautiful vivid dream. If I had my
life to live over again I would do frequently and with great care,
what I thought of too late, and now practice feebly--I would strongly
impress on my mind and very often recall, many such scenes, pictures,
times or memories. Very few people do this. Hence in all novels and
poems, especially the French, description generally smacks of
imitation and mere manufacture. It passes for "beautiful writing," but
there is always something in really unaffected truth from nature which
is caught by the true critic. I read lately a French romance which is
much admired, of this manufactured or second-hand kind. Every third
page was filled with the usual botany, rocks, skies, colors, fore and
backgrounds--"all very fine"--but in the whole of it not one of those
little touches of truth which stir us so in SHAKESPEARE, make us smile
in HERRICK or naïve PEPYS, or raise our hearts in WORDSWORTH. These
were true men.
To be true we must be far more familiar with Nature than with scene
painting or photographs, and to do this we must, so to speak,
fascinate ourselves with pictures in life, glad memories of golden
hours, rock and river and greenwood tree. We must also banish
resolutely from our past all recollections of enemies and wrongs,
troubles and trials, and throw all our heart into doing so. Forgive
and forget all enmities--those of Misfortune and Fate being included.
Depend upon it that the brighter you can make your Past the pleasanter
will be your Future.
This is just the opposite to what most people do, hence the frequent
and fond quotation of pessimistic poetry. It is all folly, and worse.
One result is that in modern books of travel the only truthful or
vivid descriptions are of sufferings of all kinds, even down to
inferior luncheons and lost hair brushes. Their joys they sketch with
an indifferent skill, like HEINE'S monk, who made rather a poor
description of Heaven, but was "gifted in Hell," which he depicted
with dreadful vigor.
I find it a great aid to recall what I can of bygone beautiful
associations, and then sleep on them with a resolve that they shall
recur in complete condition. He who will thus resolutely clean up his
past life and clear away from it all sorrow _as well as he can_, and
refurnish it with beautiful memories, or make it better, _coûte que
coûte_, will do himself more good than many a doleful moral adviser
ever dreamed of. This is what I mean by _self-fascination_--the
making, as it were, by magic art, one's own past and self more
charming than we ever deemed it possible to be. We thus fascinate
ourselves. Those who believe that everything which is bygone has gone
to the devil are in a wretched error. The future is based on the
past--yes, made from it, and that which _was_ never dies, but returns
to bless or grieve. We mostly wrong our past bitterly, and bitterly
does it revenge itself. But it is like the lion of ANDROCLES, it
remembers those who treat it kindly. "And lo! when ANDROCLES was
thrown to the lion to be devoured, the beast lay down at his feet, and
licked his hands." Yes, we have all our lions!
_To master difficult meanings_. It has often befallen me, when I was
at the University, or later when studying law, to exert my mind to
grasp, and all in vain, some problem in mathematics or a puzzling
legal question, or even to remember some refractory word in a foreign
language which would _not_ remain in the memory. After a certain
amount of effort in many of these cases, further exertion is
injurious, the mind or receptive power seems to be seized--as if
nauseated--with spasmodic rejections. In such a case pass the question
by, but on going to bed, think it over and _will_ to understand it on
the morrow. It will often suffice to merely desire that it shall recur
in more intelligible form--in which case, _nota bene_--if let alone it
will obey. This is as if we had a call to make tomorrow, when, as we
know, the memory will come at its right time of itself, especially if
we employ Forethought or special pressure.
When I reflect on what I once endured from this cause, and how greatly
it could have been relieved or alleviated, I feel as if I could beg,
with all my heart, every student or teacher of youth to seriously
experiment on what I set forth in this book. It is also to be
observed, especially by metaphysicians and mental philosophers, that a
youth who has shown great indifference to, let us say mathematics, if
he has manifested an aptitude for philosophy or languages, will be in
all cases certain to excel in the former, if he can be brought to
make a good beginning in it. A great many cases of bad, _i. e._,
indifferent scholarship, are due to bad teaching of the rudiments by
adults who took no _interest_ in their pupils, and therefore inspired
none.
_To determine what course to follow in any Emergency_. Many a man
often wishes with all his heart that he had some wise friend to
consult in his perplexities. What to do in a business trouble when we
are certain that there is an exit if we could only find it--a sure way
to tame an unruly horse if we had the secret--to do or not to do
whate'er the question--truly all this causes great trouble in life.
But, it is within the power of man to be his own friend, yes, and
companion, to a degree of which none have ever dreamed, and which
borders on the _weird_, or that which forebodes or suggests mysteries
to come. For it may come to pass that he who has trained himself to
it, may commune with his spirit as with a companion.
This is, of course, done by just setting the problem, or question, or
dilemma, before ourselves as clearly as we can, so as to know our own
minds as well as possible. This done, sleep on it, with the resolute
will to have it recur on the morrow in a clear and solved form. And
should this occur, do not proceed to pull it to pieces again, by way
of improvement, but rather submit it to another night's rest. I would
here say that many lawyers and judges are perfectly familiar with this
process, and use it habitually, without being aware of its connection
with hypnotism or will. But they could aid it, if they would add this
peculiar _impulse_ to the action.
What I will now discuss approaches the miraculous, or seems to do so
because it has been attempted or treated in manifold ways by sorcerers
and witches. The Voodoos, or black wizards in America, profess
to be able to awaken love in one person for another by means of
incantations, but admit that it is the most difficult of their feats.
Nor do I think that there is any infallible recipe for it, but that
there are means of _honestly_ aiding such affection can hardly be
denied. In the first place, he who would be loved must love--for that
is no honest love which is not sincere. And having thus inspired
himself, and made himself as familiar as possible, by quietly
observing as dispassionately as may be all the mental characteristics
of the one loved, let him with an earnest desire to know how to secure
a return, go to sleep, and see whether the next day will bring a
suggestion. And as the old proverb declares that luck comes to many
when least hoped for, so will it often happen that forethought is thus
fore-bought or secured.
It is known that gifts pass between friends or lovers, to cause the
receiver to think of the giver, thus they are in a sense amulets. If
we believe, as HEINE prettily suggests, that something of the life or
the being of the owner or wearer has passed into the talisman, we are
not far off from the suggestion that our feelings are allied. All over
Italy, or over the world, pebbles of precious stone, flint or amber,
rough topaz or agate, are esteemed as lucky; all things of the kind
lead to suggestiveness, and may be employed in suggestion.
What was originally known as Fascination, of which the German,
FROMANN, wrote a very large volume which I possess, is simply
Hypnotism without the putting to sleep. It is direct Suggestion. Where
there is a natural sympathy of like to like, soul answering soul, such
suggestion is easily established. Among people of a common, average,
worldly type who are habitually sarcastic, jeering, chaffing, and
trifling, or those whose idea of genial or agreeable companionship is
to "get a rise" out of all who will give and take irritations equally,
there can be no sympathy of gentle or refined emotions. Experiments,
whose whole nature presupposes earnest thought, cannot be tried with
any success by those who live habitually in an atmosphere of small
talk and "rubbishy" associations. Fascination should be mutual; to
attempt to exert it on anyone who is not naturally in sympathy is a
crime, and I believe that all such cases lead to suffering and
remorse.
But where we perceive that there is an undoubted mutual liking and
good reason for it, fascination, when perfectly understood and
sympathetically used, facilitates and increases love and friendship,
and may be most worthily and advantageously employed. Unto anyone who
could, for example, merely skim over all that I have written, catching
an idea here and there, and then expect to master all, I can clearly
say that I can give him or her no definite idea of fascination. For
Fascination really is effectively what the old philosophers, who
had given immense study and research to the subject in ages when
susceptibility to suggestiveness went far beyond anything now known,
all knew and declared; that is to say, it existed, but that it
required a peculiar mind, and very certainly one which is not
frivolous, to understand its nature, and much more to master it.
He who has by foresight, or previous consideration of a subject or
desire, allied to a vigorous resolution (which is a kind of projection
of the mind by will--and then submitting it to sleep), learned how to
bring about a wished-for state of mind, has, in a curious manner, made
as it were of his hidden self a conquest yet a friend. He has brought
to life within himself a Spirit, gifted with greater powers than those
possessed by Conscious Intellect. By his astonishing and unsuspected
latent power, Man can imagine and then create, even a spirit within
the soul. We make at first the sketch, then model it in clay, then
cast it in gypsum, and finally sculpture it in marble.
I read lately, in a French novel, a description of a young lady, by
herself, in which she assumed to have within her two souls, one good,
of which she evidently thought very little, and another brilliantly
diabolical, capricious, vividly dramatic and interesting _esprit_--to
which she gave a great deal of attention. He who will begin by merely
_imagining_ that he has within him a spirit of beauty and light, which
is to subdue and extinguish the other or all that is in him of what is
low, commonplace, and mean, may bring this idea to exert a marvelous
influence. He can increase the conception, and give it reality, by
treating it with forethought and will, by suggestion, until it gives
marvellous result. This better self may be regarded as a guardian
angel, in any case it is a power by means of which we can learn
mysteries. It is also our Conscience, born of the perception of
Ideals.
The Ideal or Spirit thus evolved should be morally pure, else the
experimenter will find, as did the magicians of old, that all who
dealt with any but good spirits, fell into the hands of devils, just
as ALLAN KARDEC says is the case with Spiritualists. But to speak as
clearly as I can, he who succeeds in winning or creating a higher Self
within himself, and fascinating it by sympathy, will find that he has,
within moral limits, a strange power of fascinating those who are in
sympathy with him.
Whereupon many will say "of course." Like and like together strike.
Birds of a feather flock together. _Similis similibus_. But it often
happens in this life, though they meet they do _not_ pair off. Very
often indeed they meet, but to part. There must be, even where the
affinity exists, consideration and forethought to test the affinity.
It requires long practice even for keen eyes to recognize the amethyst
or topaz, or many other gems, in their natural state as sea-worn
pebbles. Now, it is not a matter of fancy, of romance, or imagination,
that there are men and women who really have, deeply hidden in
their souls, or more objectively manifested, peculiar or beautiful
characteristics, or a spirit. I would not speak here merely of
_naïveté_ or tenderness--a natural affinity for poetry, art, or
beauty, but the peculiar tone and manner of it, which is sympathetic
to ours. For two people may love music, yet be widely removed from all
agreement if one be a Wagnerian, and the other of an older school.
Suffice it to say that such similarities of mind or mood, of intellect
or emotion do exist, and when they are real, and not imaginary, or
merely the result of passional attraction, they suggest and may well
attract the use of Fascination.
Those who actually develop within themselves such a spirit, regarding
it as one, that is a self beyond self, attain to a power which few
understand, which is practical, positive, and real, and not at all a
superstitious fancy. It may begin in imagining or fancy, but as the
veriest dream is material and may be repeated till we see it visibly
and can then copy it, so can we create in ourselves a being, a
segregation of our noblest thoughts, a superb abstraction of soul
which looks from its sunny mountain height down on the dark and
noisome valley which forms our worldly common intellect or mind, or
the only one known to by far the majority of mankind, albeit they may
have therein glimpses of light and truth. But it is to him who makes
for himself, by earnest Will and Thought, a _separate_ and better Life
or Self that a better life is given.
Those who possess genius or peculiarly cultivated minds of a highly
moral caste, gifted with pure integrity, and above vulgarity and
worldly commonplace habits, should never form a tie in friendship or
love without much forethought. And then if the active agent has
disciplined his mind by self-hypnotism until he can control or manage
his Will with ease, he will know without further instruction how to
fascinate, and that properly and legitimately.
Those who now acquire this power are few and far between, and when
they _really_ possess it they make no boast nor parade, but rather
keep it carefully to themselves, perfectly content with what it yields
for reward. And here I may declare something in which I firmly
believe, yet which very few I fear will understand as I mean it. If
this fascination and other faculties like it may be called Magical
(albeit all is within the limits of science and matter), then there
are assuredly in this world magicians whom we meet without dreaming
that they are such. Here and there, however rare, there is mortal who
has studied deeply--but
"Softened all and tempered into beauty;
And blended with lone thoughts and wanderings,
The quest of hidden knowledge, and a mind
To _love_ the universe."
Such beings do not come before the world, but hide their lights,
knowing well that their magic would defeat itself, and perish if it
were made common. Any person of the average worldly cast who could
work any miracles, however small, would in the end bitterly regret it
if he allowed it to be known. Thus I have read ingenious stories, as
for instance one by HOOD, showing what terrible troubles a man fell
into by being able to make himself invisible. Also another setting
forth the miseries of a successful alchemist. The Algonkin Indians
have a legend of a man who came to grief and death through his power
of making all girls love him. But the magic of which I speak is of a
far more subtle and deeply refined nature, and those who possess it
are alone in life, save when by some rare chance they meet their kind.
Those who are deeply and mysteriously interested in any pursuit for
which the great multitude of all-alike people have no sympathy, who
have peculiar studies and subjects of thought, partake a little of
the nature of the _magus_. Magic, as popularly understood, has no
existence, it is a literal _myth_--for it means nothing but what
amazes or amuses for a short time. No miracle would be one if it
became common. Nature is infinite, therefore its laws cannot be
violated--_ergo_, there is no magic if we mean by that an inexplicable
contravention of law.
But that there are minds who have simply advanced in knowledge beyond
the multitude in certain things which cannot at once be made common
property is true, for there is a great deal of marvelous truth not as
yet dreamed of even by HERBERT SPENCERS or EDISONS, by RONTGENS or
other scientists. And yet herein is hidden the greatest secret of
future human happenings.
"What I was is passed by,
What I am away doth fly;
What I shall be none do see,
Yet in that my glories be."
Now to illustrate this more clearly. Some of these persons who are
more or less secretly addicted to magic (I say secretly, because they
cannot make it known if they would), take the direction of feeling or
living with inexpressible enjoyment in the beauties of nature. That,
they attain to something almost or quite equal to life in Fairyland,
is conclusively proved by the fact that only very rarely, here and
there in their best passages, do the greatest poets more than
imperfectly and briefly convey some broken idea or reflection of the
feelings which are excited by thousands of subjects in nature in many.
The Mariana of TENNYSON surpasses anything known to me in any language
as conveying the reality of feeling alone in a silent old house, where
everything is a dim, uncanny manner, recalled the past--yet suggested
a kind of mysterious presence--as in the passage:
"All day within the dreary house
The doors upon their hinges creaked,
The blue fly sang in the pane, the mouse
Behind the mouldering wainscot shrieked,
Or from the crevice peered about;
Old faces glimmered thro' the doors,
Old footsteps trod the upper floors,
Old voices called her from without."
Yet even this unsurpassed poem does no more than _partially_ revive
and recall the reality to me of similar memories of long, long ago,
when an invalid child I was often left in a house entirely alone, from
which even the servants had absented themselves. Then I can remember
how after reading the Arabian Nights or some such unearthly romance,
as was the mode in the Thirties, the very sunshine stealing craftily
and silently like a living thing, in a bar through the shutter,
twinkling with dust, as with infinitely small stars, living and dying
like sparks, the buzzing of the flies who were little blue imps, with
now and then a larger Beelzebub--a strange imagined voice ever about,
which seemed to say something without words--and the very furniture,
wherein the chairs were as goblins, and the broom a tall young woman,
and the looking-glass a kind of other self-life--all of this as I
recall it appears to me as a picture of the absence of human beings as
described by TENNYSON, _plus_ a strange personality in every object--
which the poet does not attempt to convey. This is, however, a very
small or inferior illustration; there are far more remarkable and
deeply spiritual or æsthetically-suggestive subjects than this, and
that in abundance, which Art has indeed so reproduced as to amaze the
many who have only had snatches of such observation themselves.
But the magicians, SHELLEY, or KEATS, or WORDSWORTH, only convey
_partial_ echoes of certain subjects, or of their specialties. It is
indeed beautiful to feel what Art can do, but the original is worth
far more. And if the reader would be such a magician, let him give his
heart and will to taking an interest in all that is beautiful, good
and true--or honest. For that it really can be done in all fullness is
true beyond a dream of doubt. By the ordinary methods of learning one
may indeed acquire an exact, mechanically drawn picture, which we
modify with what beauty chance bestows. But he who will learn by the
process which I have endeavored to describe, or by studying with the
_will_, cannot fail to experience a strange enchantment in so doing,
as I have read in an Italian tale of a youth who was sadly weary of
his lessons, but who, being taken daily by certain kind fairies into
their school on a hill, found all difficulties disappear and the
pursuit of knowledge as joyful as that of pleasure.
I have heard hypnotism, with regard to fascination, spoken of with
great apprehension. "It is dreadful," said one to me, "to think of
anybody's being able to exercise such an influence on anyone." And
yet, widely known as it is, instances of its abuse are very rare.
Thus, when Cremation was first discussed, it was warmly opposed,
because somebody _might_ be poisoned, and then, the body being burned,
there could be no autopsy! Nature has decreed some drawback to the
best things; nothing is perfect. But to balance the immense benefits
latent in suggestion against the problematic abuses is like condemning
the ship because a bucket of tar has been spilt on the deck.
Sincere kindness and respect, which are allied unto identity, are
the best or surest key to love, and they in turn are allied to
fascination. Here I might observe that the action of the eye, which is
a silent speech of emotion, has always been regarded as powerful in
fascination, but those who are not by nature gifted with it cannot use
it to much good purpose. That emotional, susceptible subjects ready to
receive suggestion can be put to sleep or made to imagine anything
terrible regarding anybody's glance is very true, just as an ignorant
Italian will believe of any man that he has the _malocchio_ if he be
told so, whence came the idea that Pope Gregory XVI had the evil eye.
But where there is _sincere_ kindly feeling it makes itself felt in a
sympathetic nature by what is popularly called magic, only because it
is not understood. The enchantment lies in this, that unconscious
cerebration, or the power (or powers), who are always acting in us,
effect many curious and very subtle mental phenomena, all of which
they do not confide to the common-sense waking judgment or Reason,
simply because the latter is almost entirely occupied with common
worldly subjects. It is as if someone whose whole attention and
interest had been at all times given to some plain hard drudgery,
should be called on to review or write a book of exquisitely subtle
poetry. It is, indeed, almost sadly touching to reflect how this
innocent and beautiful faculty of recognizing what is good, is really
acting perhaps in evil and merely worldly minds all in vain, and all
unknown to them. The more the conscious waking-judgment has been
trained to recognize goodness, the more will the hidden water-fairies
rise above the surface, as it were, to the sunshine. So it comes that
true kindly feeling is recognized by sympathy, and those who would be
loved, cannot do better than make themselves truly and perfectly
_kind_ by forethought and will, and with this the process of
self-hypnotism will be a great aid. For it is not more by winning
others to us, than in willing ourselves to them that true Love
consists.
Love or trusting sympathy from any human being, however humble, is the
most charming thing in life, and it ought to be the main object of
existence. Yet there are thousands all round us, yes, many among
our friends or acquaintances, who live and die without ever having
known it, because in their egotism and folly they conceive of close
relations as founded on personal power, interest or the weakness of
others. The only fascination which such people can ever exercise is
that of the low and devilish kind, the influence of the cat on the
mouse, the eye of the snake on the bird, which in the end degrades
them into deeper evil. That there are such people, and that they
really make captive and oppress weaker minds, by suggestion, is true;
the marvel being that so few find it out.
But in proportion as this kind of fascination is vile and mean,
that which may be called altruistic or sympathetic attraction, or
Enchantment, is noble and pure, because it acquires strength in
proportion to the purity and beauty of the soul or will which inspires
it. It is as real and has as much power, and can be exercised by any
honest person whatever with wonderful effect, even to the performing
what are popularly called "miracles," which only means wonderful works
beyond _our_ power of explanation. But this kind of fascination is
little understood as yet, simply because it is based on purity,
morality and light, and hitherto the seekers for occult mysteries have
been chiefly occupied with the gloomy and mock-diabolical rubbish of
old tradition, instead of scientific investigation of our minds and
brains.
There is also in truth a Fascination by means of the Voice, which has
in it a much deeper and stronger power or action than that of merely
sweet sound as of an instrument. The Jesuit, GASPAR SCHOTT, in his
_Magio Medica_ treats of Fascination as twofold: _De Fascinatione per
Visunt et Vocem_. I have found among Italian witches as with Red
Indian wizards, every magical operation depended on an incantation,
and every incantation on the feeling, intonation, or manner in which
it is sung. Thus near Rome any peasant overhearing a _scongiurasione_
would recognize it from the _sound_ alone.
Anyone, male or female, can have a deep, rich voice by simply subduing
and training it, and very rarely raising it to a high pitch. _Nota
bene_ that the less this is affected the more effective it will be.
There are many, especially women, who speak, as it were, all time in
italics, when they do not set their speech in small caps or displayed
large capitals. The result of this, as regards sound, is the so-called
nasal voice, which is very much like caterwauling, and I need not say
that there is no fascination in it--on the contrary its tendency is to
destroy any other kind of attraction. It is generally far more due to
an ill-trained, unregulated, excitable, nervous temperament than to
any other cause.
The training the voice to a subdued state "like music in its softest
key," or to rich, deep tones, though it be done artificially, has an
extraordinary effect on the character and on others. It is associated
with a well-trained mind and one gifted with self-control. One of the
richest voices to which I ever listened was that of the poet TENNYSON.
I can remember another man of marvelous mind, vast learning, and
æsthetic-poetic power who also had one of those voices which exercised
great influence on all who heard it.
There is an amusing parallel as regards nasal-screaming voices in the
fact that a donkey cannot bray unless he at the same time lifts his
tail--but if the tail be _tied down_, the beast must be silent. So the
man or woman, whose voice like that of the erl-king's is "ghostly
shrill as the wind in the porch of a ruined church," always raise
their tones with their temper, but if we keep the former down by
training, the latter cannot rise.
I once asked a very talented lady teacher of Elocution in Philadelphia
if she regarded shrill voices as incurable. She replied that they
invariably yielded to instruction and training. Children under no
domestic restraint who were allowed to scream out and dispute on all
occasions and were never corrected in intonation, generally had vulgar
voices.
A good voice acts very evidently on the latent powers of the mind,
and impresses the æsthetic sense, even when it is unheeded by the
conscious judgment. Many a clergyman makes a deep impression by his
voice alone. And why? Certainly not by appealing to the reason.
Therefore it is well to be able to fascinate with the voice. Now,
_nota bene_--as almost every human being can speak in a soft or
well-toned voice, "at least, subdued unto a temperate tone" just as
long as he or she chooses to do it, it follows that with foresight,
aided by suggestion, or continued will, we can all acquire this
enviable accomplishment.
To end this chapter with a curious bit of appropriate folk-lore, I
would record that while Saxo Grammaticus, Olaus Magnus, and a host of
other Norsemen have left legends to prove that there were sorcerers
who by magic of the soft and wondrous voice could charm and capture
men of the sword, so the Jesuit ATHANASIUS KIRCHER, declares that on
the seventeenth day of May, 1638, he, going from Messina in a boat,
witnessed with his own eyes the capture not of swordsmen but of sundry
_xiphioe_, or sword-fish, by means of a melodiously chanted charm, the
words whereof he noted down as follows:
"Mammassudi di pajanu,
Palletu di pajanu,
Majassu stigneta.
Pallettu di pajanu,
Palè la stagneta.
Mancata stigneta.
Pro nastu varitu pressu du
Visu, e da terra!"
Of which words Kircher declares that they are probably of mingled
corrupt Greek and ancient Sicilian, but that whatever they are, they
certainly are admirable for the catching of fish.