Chapter I: Medici (6)

"But he met outside Piovano Arlotto, who said to him: 'Thou hast had a dainty drubbing, my son, but there is plenty more where that came from--_non v'e ne fin_, _ne fondo_--there is neither end nor bottom to it. Now go to thy master, and say that if he goes further in this business he will fare worse than thou hast done.'

"The youth, returning to Florence, told the tale to his employer, and how Piovano Arlotto had declared if they dunned him any more he would do his best to have them drubbed to death. So they dropped the matter--like a hot shot.

"Everybody in Florence roared with laughter for seven days--_sparsa la piacevolezza per Firenze_, _vi fu che ridere per setti giorni_--that is to say, everybody laughed except one clothmaker and his collector, and if they smiled, 'twas sour and bitterly--the smile which does not rise above the throat--the merriment like German mourning grim. And as for the young man, he had to leave Florence, for all of whom he would collect money told him to go to--the monks of San Miniato!"

* * * * *

There was a curious custom, from which came a proverb, in reference to this monastery, which is thus narrated in that singular work, _La Zucca del Doni Fiorentino_ ("The Pumpkin of Doni the Florentine"):

"There is a saying, _E non terrebbe un cocomere all'erta_--He could
not catch a cucumber if thrown to him. Well, ye must know, my
masters and gallant signors, that our Florentine youth in the season
of cucumbers go to San Miniato, where there is a steep declivity, and
when there, those who are above toss or roll them down to those
below, while those below throw them up to those above, just as people
play at toss-and-pitching oranges with girls at windows. So they
keep it up, and it is considered a great shame and sign of feebleness
(_dapocaggine_) not to be able to catch; and so in declining the
company of a duffer one says: 'I'll have nothing to do with him--he
isn't able to catch a cucumber.'

"It is one of the popular legends of this place that a certain
painter named Gallo di San Miniato was a terribly severe critic of
the works of others, but was very considerate as regarded his own.
And having this cast at him one day, and being asked how it was, he
frankly replied: 'I have but two eyes wherewith to see my own
pictures, but I look at those of others with the hundred of Argus.'"

And indeed, as I record this, I cannot but think of a certain famous critic who is so vain and captious that one must needs say that his head, like a butterfly's, is all full of little _i's_.

"And this tale of two optics reminds me of the story of Messer
Gismondo della Stufa, a Florentine of Miniato, who once said to some
friends: 'If I had devoted myself to letters, I should have been
twice as learned as others, and yet ye cannot tell why.' Then some
guessed it would have been due to a good memory, while others
suggested genius, but Messer Gismondo said: 'You are not there yet,
my children; it is because I am so confoundedly cross-eyed that I
could have read in two books at once.'"

In the first legend which I narrated, the fall of the tower is attributed to witchcraft or evil spirits. In the very ancient frescoes of San Miniato there is one in which the devil causes a wall or tower to fall down and crush a young monk. What confirms the legend, or its antiquity, is that the original bell-tower of San Miniato actually fell down in 1499. The other then built was saved from a similar fate by the genius of Michael Angelo Buonarotti, who built a bank of earth to support it.

"_Haec fabula_ of the head of San Miniato," wrote the immortal
Flaxius on the proof, "teaches that he who would get round a priest
in small trickery must arise uncommonly early--nay, in most cases
'twould be as well not to go to bed at all--especially when dunning
is 'on the tap.' Concerning which word _dun_ it is erroneously
believed in England to have been derived from the name of a certain
Joseph Dunn, who was an indefatigable collecting bailiff. But in
very truth 'tis from the Italian _donare_, to give oneself up to
anything with ardour--to stick to it; in accordance with which,
_donar guanto_, or to give the glove, means to promise to pay or give
security. And if any philologist differs from me in opinion as to
this, why then--_let_ him diff! Which magnanimously sounding
conclusion, when translated according to the spirit of most who utter
it, generally means:

"Let him be maledict, excommunicate, and damnated _ad inferos--in
saecula saeculorum_!--twice over!"

THE FRIAR'S HEAD OF SANTA MARIA MAGGIORE--THE LADY WHO CONFESSED FOR EVERYBODY--HOLY RELICS

"He who speaks from a window or a pulpit, or the top of a good name
or any high place, should speak wisely, if he speak at all, unto
those who pass."

The Church of Santa Maria Maggiore "remounts," as the Italians say, or can be traced back to 700 A.D., but it was enlarged and renewed by the architect Bueno in the twelfth century, and according to Pitre it was the germ of a new style of architecture which we find much refined (_ringentilata_) in Santa Maria del Fiore. "There were, regarding its bell-tower, which no longer exists, many tales and curious anecdotes, which might form a part of a fine collection of local legends." There is still to-day on the wall above the little side-door facing the Via de' Conti, a much worn head of stone, coming out of a round cornice, which is in all probability the one referred to in the following legend:

"There was once a condemned criminal being carried along to execution, and on the way passed before the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore. One of the friars put his head out of a little round window, which was just large enough for it to pass through, and this was over the entrance on the lesser side of the church, facing the Via de' Conti. As the condemned passed by the friar said:

"'Date gli da bere, 'un morira mai.'
"'Give him a drink and he never will die.'

"To which the condemned replied:

"'E la testa di costi tu 'un la levrai'.
"'And thy head shall stick where it is for aye.'

"And so it came to pass that they could not get the head of the friar back through the hole, so there he died. And some say that after they got the body out they carried his likeness in stone and put it there in the little round window, in remembrance of the event, while others think that it is the friar himself turned to stone--_chi sa_?"

* * * * *

The conception of a stone head having been that of a person petrified for punishment is of the kind which would spring up anywhere, quite independently of tradition or borrowing; hence it is found the world over. That ideas of the kind may be common, yet not in common, nor yet uncommon, is shown by the resemblance of the remark of the friar:

"Give him a drink and he never will die,"--

which was as much as to say that inebriation would cause him to forget his execution--to a verse of a song in "Jack Sheppard":

"For nothing so calms,
Our dolorous qualms,
And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles,
So well as a drink from the bowl of Saint Giles."

There is a merrier tale, however, of Santa Maria Maggiore, and one which is certainly far more likely to have occurred than this of the petrified _pater_. For it is told in the ancient _Facetiae_ that a certain Florentine nobleman, who was a jolly and reckless cavalier, had a wife who, for all her beauty, was _bisbetica e cattiva_, capricious and spiteful, malicious and mischievous, a daughter of the devil, if there ever was one, who, like all those of her kind, was very devout, and went every day to confession in Santa Maria Maggiore, where she confessed not only her own sins, but also those of all her neighbours. And as she dwelt with vast eloquence on the great wickedness of her husband--having a tongue which would serve to sweep out an oven, or even a worse place {150}--the priest one day urged the husband to come to confession, thinking that it might lead to more harmony between the married couple. With which he complied; but when the priest asked him to tell what sins he had committed, the cavalier answered, "There is no need of it, Padre; you have heard them all from my wife many a time and oft, and with them a hundred times as many which I never dreamed of committing--including those of all Florence."

It was in the first Church of Santa Maria Maggiore, which stood on the site of the present, that San Zenobio in the fourth century had walled into the high altar an inestimable gift which he had received from the Pope. This was "the two bodies of the glorious martyrs Abdon and Sennen, who had been thrown unto wild beasts, which would not touch them, whereupon they were put to death by swords in the hands of viler human beasts." I may remark by the way, adds the observant Flaxius, that relics have of late somewhat lost their value in Florence. I saw not long ago for sale a very large silver casket, stuffed full of the remains of the holiest saints, and the certificates of their authenticity, and I was offered the whole for the value of the silver in the casket--the relics being generously thrown in! And truly the mass of old bones, clay, splinters, nails, rags with blood, bits of wood, dried-up eyes, _et cetera_, was precisely like the Voodoo-box or conjuring bag of an old darkey in the United States. But then the latter was heathen! "That is a _very_ different matter."

BIANCONE, THE GIANT STATUE IN THE SIGNORIA

"_Fons Florentinus_.--In foro lympidas aquas fons effundit marmoreis
figuris Neptuni et Faunorum ab Amanate confectis."--_Templum Naturae
Historicum_. HENRICI KORNMANNI, A.D. 1614.

The most striking object in the most remarkable part of Florence is the colossal marble Neptune in the Fountain of the Signoria, by Ammanati, dating from 1575. He stands in a kind of car or box, drawn by horses which Murray declares "are exceedingly spirited." They are indeed more so than he imagined, for according to popular belief, when the spirit seizes them and their driver, and the bronze statues round them, they all go careering off like mad beings over the congenial Arno, and even on to the Mediterranean! That is to say, that they did so on a time, till they were all petrified with their driver in the instant when they were bounding like the billows, which are typified by white horses.

Neptune has, however, lost his name for the multitude, who simply call him the Biancone, or Great White Man; and this is the legend (given to me in writing by a witch), by which he is popularly known:

BIANCONE, THE GOD OF THE ARNO.

"Biancone was a great and potent man, held in great respect for his grandeur and manly presence, a being of tremendous strength, and the true type of a magician, {152} he being a wizard indeed. In those days there was much water in the Arno, {153} and Biancone passed over it in his car.

"There was then in the Arno a witch, a beautiful girl, the _vera dea_ or true goddess of the river, in the form of an eel. And Biancone finding this fish every day as he drove forth in his chariot, spurned it away _con cattivo garbo_--with an ill grace. And one day when he had done this more contemptuously than usual, the eel in a rage declared she would be revenged, and sent to him a smaller eel. But Biancone crushed its head (_le stiaccio il chapo_).

"Then the eel appeared with a little branch of olive with berries, and said:

"'Entro in questa carozza,
Dove si trove l'uomo,
L'uomo il piu potente,
Che da tutti e temuto;
Ed e un uomo grande,
E grande, e ben vero;
Ma il gran dio del Arno,
Il potente Biancone,
Non sara il solo potente;
Vi sara una piccola pesce,
Una piccola anguilla;
Benche piccola la sia;
Fara vedere la sua potenza
Tu Biancone, a mi,
Le magie, e siei mezzo stregone
Io una piccola anguillina,
Sono una vera fata,
E sono la Fata dell Arno,
Tu credevi d'essere
Il solo dio d'Arno,
Ma ci, no, io che sono
La regina, e la vera,
Vera dea qui del Arno.'

"'Lo, I enter in this chariot!
Where I find the man of power,
Who is feared by all before him,
And he is a mighty being,
Great he is, there's no denying;
But the great god of the Arno,
The so powerful Biancone,
Is not all alone in power;
There's a little fish or eel, who,
Though but little, has the power,
Mighty man, to make thee tremble!
Biancone, thou art only
Unto me as half a wizard;
I, a little eel of the Arno,
Am the fairy of the river;
Thou didst deem thyself its ruler;
I deny it--for I only
Am the queen and the true goddess--
The true goddess of the Arno.'

"Having said this, she touched with the twig of olive the little eel whom Biancone had killed, and repeated while touching it:

"'Anguillina che dal Grande
Siei stata stiacciata,
Io con questo ramoscello
Ti faccio in vita tornare,
E al Grande, io, del Arno
Tutto il mio pensiero,
Tutto posso raccontare.'

"'I, little eel, who by the mighty
Man hast been to death delivered,
Do call thee back unto the living!
Wake thee with this twig of olive!
Now unto this Biancone,
Thou who art too of the Arno,
Shalt speak out thy mind and freely.'

"Then the little eel, resuscitated and influenced by the goddess of the Arno, said:

"'Biancone, tu che siei
Il potente dio dell' Arno,
L'anguilla discacciata,
Che tu ai discacciata,
E di te inamorata,
E di te piu potente,
E se tu la discaccerai,
Ti giura la vendetta,
E si vendichera. . . .'

"'Biancone, Biancone!
Thou great spirit of the Arno,
Lo, the eel by thee despised
Turns again with love unto thee:
She surpasses thee in power;
If she is by thee rejected,
She will vow revenge upon thee,
And will be avenged truly.'

"Biancone replied:

"'Io non voglio amar donne,
Sia pure d'una bellezza
Da fare a cecare,
Ma per me non mi fa niente,
Non voglio amare donne,
Sara per bellezza una
Gran persona, ma non vero,
Per potenza, per che piu,
Piu potente di me non
Vi e alcun . . . '

"'I seek not the love of women.
Thou art of a dazzling beauty;
Unto that I am indifferent;
I seek not the love of ladies.
Thou may'st be full great in beauty,
Not in power, for in power
I shall ever be the greater.'

"Then the eel arose {155} and said:

"'Biancone, or guardami,
Guarda mi bene perche piu,
Non mi vedrai vedermi,
E se mi vedrai,
Non mi potrai toccare,
Dici che piu potente
Di te non ce nessuno,
Ma sa io la prima,
Mia potenza e quella
Di vederti inamorato,
Di me vere inamorato,
Ma che ora sono io,
Che ti discaccio per la tua,
Al te si guardami mi vedi.'

"'Biancone, now regard me,
Look well at me now, for never,
Wilt thou ever more behold me,
Or if thou behold'st me, touch me,
And thou say'st that thou hast power,
And that none can rival with thee.
Thou shalt learn that I am stronger,
For I've power to make thee love me,
But 'tis I who now reject thee,
If thou doubtest--now behold me!'

"And then, instead of an eel, appeared a maid of dazzling beauty, and Biancone sought to embrace her, but could not, and said:

"'Contentami una volta
Sola, o dea dell' Arno;
Lascia che ti abbraci
Una volta sola, o dea.'

"'For a single time content me,
Lovely goddess of the Arno;
Let me but for once embrace thee,
Yield to me I pray, O fairy!'

"But the goddess of the Arno replied:

"'Una donna piu potente
Di te, non si lascia
Vincere da uno superbo;
Tuo pari mi basta di
Far ti vedere, che c'e
Persona ancora di te
Piu potente . . . Ora io
Mi voglio vendi care per che,
Tu mi ai discacciata,
Tante volte, ed ora invece
Tu saresti bene contento
Di abbraciarmi anche,
Anche or per una volta,
Ma no. Addio Biancone!'

"'A woman who has greater power
Than thine will surely not be conquered
Merely by pride in outward seeming,
But now, in brief, I will content me
By proving mine the greater power;
I seek to avenge myself upon thee,
Since of old thou didst despise me
Many times, but now wouldst gladly,
Though it were but for once, embrace me--
Farewell for ever, Biancone!'

"And Biancone fled, but he always bore the beautiful goddess in his mind, and could not forget her, so he too meditated a vengeance.

"But the vengeance of a woman strikes more powerfully than that of a man.

"One day when Biancone was passing over the Arno in his chariot, with all his attendants, he thought he saw the eel engaged in forming the basin of a fountain (_vasca_), and bear it away in a car, she herself being in it, {156} and it was covered with glass; but in the time that he thought (or dreamed) that he saw this, the eel appeared and said:

"'Il momenta della mia vendetta
E arrivato, e ti giuro
Giuro che la mia vendetta
E potente, or Turanna,
Mia regina delle Fate,
E dea dell Arno, commanda
Che questa carroza sprafondi,
E che tu e la tua servitu,
Non vi potrete salvare.'

"'Now the time to wreak my vengeance
Has arrived, and I swear thee
That my vengeance shall be fearful,
Very great, because my sovereign,
Turanna, queen of all the fairies,
Orders that thy chariot
Shall be firmly fixed for ever,
And that thou and all thy following
Never more canst hope for rescue.'

"Then she sang again:

"'Confino i tuoi servitori,
Quelli che ti aiut avanno
A discacciar sui, o
Diventare della forma,
Mezze bestie, mezzi uomini,
E tu o Biancone,
Che tanto grande siei,
Ti confino a stare sempre,
Sempre ritto e non potrete
Mai ragionare, ne camminare
Solo quando sara luna,
Luna piena, passero io
Ti vedro, e mi vedrai,
Ma parlarmi non potrai.

"'Quando sara luna piena,
E che sara una notte,
Che sara mezza nuvola,
E mezza serena s'enderai,
Della tua carozza nei,
Nei momenti che la Luna
Resta sotto le nuvole,
E cosi potrei favellare,
Con tutte le statue, che ai
Attorno, allor tua carozza,
E col mio permesso potrai
Andare anche dai tuoi amici!'

"'I hereby compel thy servants,
Those who aided thee, to vanish,
Or take forms half brute, half human. {158}
As for thee, O Biancone!
Thou who art so tall and stately,
Thou shalt stand erect for ever,
Without power to speak or wander,
Only when the full moon shining
Falls upon thee, I will pass thee,
I shall see thee; thou will see me,
Without power to address me!

"'When the moon in full is shining,
Yet when clouds begin to gather;
Half in light and half in darkness,
Thou may'st only in the moment
When the moon is overclouded,
Leave thy chariot, and have converse
With the statues who are round thee,
Then thou may'st, by my permission,
Go among thy friends, then only.'"

* * * * *

I may here explain to the reader that this tale with its elaborate invocations is not current as here given among the _people_. Such forms and formulas are confined to the witches, who, as in all countries, are the keepers of mysterious traditions. All that is generally heard as regards this subject is, that when the full moon shines on Biancone at midnight, he becomes animated, and walks about the Signoria conversing with the other statues.

The Neptune was, with horses and all, produced by Bartolommeo Ammanati between 1564 and 1565. It has a certain merit of grandeur, but in lesser degree is like its neighbour Cacus, by Baccio Bandinelli, which Benvenuto Cellini justly regarded as resembling a mere bag of fat. When Michael Angelo saw the Neptune he exclaimed: "Ammanato! Ammanato! che bel blocco che hai sciupato!"--"Ammanato, what a fine block of marble thou hast spoiled!"

The Italians say that the satyr at the corner of the Palazzo Vecchio is a copy, because the original was stolen one night in January in 1821, "and is now one of the finest bronzes in the British Museum of London." It may be so; there was a great deal of fine stealing in those days. I suspect, however, that the truth is that as these images return to life now and then, the satyr availed himself of his revivification to set forth on his travels, and coming to London and finding good company in the British Museum, settled down there. But truly, when I think of the wanton and heartless destruction of beautiful and valuable old relics which has gone on of late years in Florence, to no earthly purpose, and to no profit whatever, I feel as if all the tales of such things being stolen or sold away to foreign museums were supremely silly, and as if it were all just so much saved from ruin--in case the tales are true.

"_Haec fabula docet_," wrote Flaxius, "a strange lesson. For as it
was anciently forbidden to make images, because it was an imitation
of God's work; and secondly, because men believed that spirits would
enter into them--even so doth it become all novel-writers, romancers,
and poets, to take good heed how they portray satyrs, free-love
nymphs, and all such deviltry, because they may be sure that into
these models or types there will enter many a youthful soul, who will
be led away thereby to madness and ruin. Which is, I take it, the
most practical explanation for commandment, which hath been as yet
set _coram populo_."

THE RED GOBLIN OF THE BARGELLO

"Lord Foulis in his castle sat,
And beside him old Red-cap sly;
'Now tell me, thou sprite, who art mickle of might,
The death which I shall die?'"

--SCOTT'S _Border Minstrelsy_.

The Bargello has been truly described as one of the most interesting historical monuments of Florence, and it is a very picturesque type of a towered mediaeval palace. It was partly burned down in 1322, and rebuilt in its present form by Neri di Fioravanti, after which it served as a prison. Restored, or modernised, it is now a museum. As I conjectured, there was some strange legend connected with it, and this was given to me as follows:

IL FOLLETTO ROSSO.

"The Red Goblin is a spirit who haunts the Bargello, or was there of old in the prisons, _nelle carceri_, and he always foretold to every prisoner what his sentence would be before it was pronounced.

"He always appeared in the cell of the condemned, and first lighting a candle, showed himself all clad in red, and said to the prisoner:

"'Piangi, piangi, ma piangi forte,
E prepararti che e giunta
L'ora della tua morte.'

"'Weep, oh weep full many a tear;
Make ready; thy hour for death is near.'

"Then if the prisoner replied boldly:

"'Anima chi siei!
Ti prego di volermi aiutare
A liberarmi dalla morte!'

"'Spirit, whoe'er thou be,
I beg thee now for aid;
From death pray set me free!'

Then the goblin would burst into a laugh and say:

"'Non piangere, ridi, ridi!
Ma ride sempre, e spera
Che io ti aiutera!'

"But if the prisoner had replied badly, or cursed, or said '_Vai al diavolo_!' or '_Che il diavolo ti porti_!'--then there were heard dreadful sounds, such as frightened all the prisoners and assistants, and the goblin vanished crying:

"'Woe, woe, and woe to thee!
For thou soon shalt punished be;
Away be led, to lose your head,
There is no hope for thee!'

"And after that the man might well despair. Yet the Red Goblin was a jolly sprite when not crossed, and made great sport for the prisoners, who all knew him. He went into every cell, and would tell wild tales, and relate to every one all that he, the prisoner, had done since he was a boy, and how he came to be locked up, and what would be the end of it, and told all this with such peals of laughter that the most unhappy were fain to laugh with him.

"Then the assistants and the director hearing such sounds, thought it was the prisoners rioting, but could not detect them. {161a} And the spirit relieved many innocent men from punishment, and especially visited those condemned to wear the iron collar or _gogna_, which was fastened to a post, but at the Bargello it was on the Campanile outside, in sight of all the people. {161b}

"Now there was a young man in the prison who was good at heart, and deeply repented that he had done wrong, and now feared that he indeed was in the power of Satan, and destined to be in prison for all this life and in _inferno_ all the next.

"And when he was thus sunk in misery one night, he heard him, and was in great alarm, but it said, 'Fear not, for I am the protecting spirit of the prisoners in the Bargello, and have come to free thee; put thy trust in me and I will save thee!'

"Then he told the youth how he was to act, and bade him say certain things when examined, and follow closely all the goblin would whisper to him; but whether it was his fault or his failure, he missed every point and went wrong in his replies, the end being that he was condemned to prison for life. Truly it went to his heart to think that while he lived he should always see the sun looking like a chess-board, {162} and bitterly reflected on the proverb:

"'Ne a torto ne a ragione,
Non ti lasciar metter prigione.'

"'Whether you're right or wrong, my man,
Keep out of prison as long as you can.'

"But it went most bitterly to his heart to think that he had by his own stupidity and want of study lost the chance of freedom. And for some time the Red Goblin never came near him. But at last the prisoner heard him call, and then the spirit said, 'Now thou see'st to what a pass thy neglect of my advice has brought thee. Truly _il diavolo non ti tenterebbe_--the devil takes no pains to tempt such a fool as thou, for he knows that he will get him without the trouble of asking. And yet I will give thee one more chance, and this time be thou wide awake and remember that _a buona volonta_, _non manca facolta_--where there's a will there's a way.'

"Now there was a great lord and mighty man of the state who had been in the Bargello, and greatly comforted by the Red Goblin, who now went unto this Signore, speaking so well of the young man that the latter ere long had a new trial. And this time, I warrant you, he studied his case like a lawyer; for _asino punto_, _convien che trotte_--when an ass is goaded he must needs trot--and the end thereof was that he trotted out of prison, and thence into the world, and having learned repentance as well as the art of watching his wits and turning them to account, prospered mightily, and to his dying day never forgot to pray for the Red Goblin of the Bargello."

* * * * *

There have been other spirits which haunted prisons; there was one in the Bastile, and the White Ladies of Berlin and Parma are of their kind. This of the Bargello is certainly the household sprite with the red cap, in a short shirt, who was very well known to the Etruscans and Romans, and afterwards to the Germans, the _Lutin_ of the French castles, the Robin Goodfellow of England, and the Domovoy of the Russians. His characteristics are reckless good nature mingled with mischief and revenge; but he is always, when not thwarted, at heart a _bon garcon_. Of the Bargello I have also the following anecdotes or correlative incidents:

GIORGIO.

"Truly I will not swear that this is a story of the Bargello, for I am very particular as to truth, Signore, but I will swear that 'tis of a prison in Florence, and that when it happened the Bargello was the only prison there. And it runs thus: Giorgio, whoever he was, had killed a man, and as the law ran in his case, in those strange days, he could not be executed till he had confessed or owned the deed. And he would not confess.

"Now there was a lawyer, _un notaio_, _o chi che si fosse_ (or whoever he was), who declared that he would bring to pass with a trick what justice had not been able to do with torture. So going to the prison, he called for wine, and when they had drunk deep he cried heartily:

"'_Orsu_, _Giorgio_, _stiamo un poco allegri_, _cantiam qualche cosa_'--'Come now, Giorgio, let's be merry and sing something!'

"'_Come ti piace_'--'As you please,' quoth Master Giorgio. 'You sing one line.'

"So the notary began, touching a lute:

"'Giorgi ha morto l'huomo.'
"'Giorgio once killed a man.'

"To which Giorgio, who was sharp as a razor, added:

"'Cosi non canta Giorgio.'
"'But it was not thus that Giorgio sang.'

"So it passed into a proverb, meaning as much as _Cosi non dico io_--I don't say that; or _Cosi non l'intendo io_--I don't see it in that light. And so the notary found that you cannot see Verona from the top of every hill.

"And there is another story of a prisoner, who had long curling hair in the old Florentine style. Hair, Signore, like charity, may cover much sin. Now this man, after he had been a while in the Bargello, got his sentence, which was to have his ears cropped off. But when the _boia_ or hangman came to do the job, he found that the man had had his ears cut off smooth long before. Whence came the proverb:

"'Quel che havea mozzi gli orecchi,
E'ci sara de gli arreticati.'

"'He whose ears had been cut away,
Fooled another, or so they say.'

Which is a proverb to this day, when a man finds that somebody has been before him.

"And it may have been that Donatello, the great sculptor, was in the Bargello when he said, '_E'rise a me ed io riso a lui_'--'He laughs at me, and I do laugh at him.' Donatello was _in quistione_, or in trouble with the law, and in prison, for having killed one of his pupils. The Marquis di Ferrara asked him if he was guilty. But Donatello had already received from the Marquis a license to slay any one in self-defence, and so he made that answer."

A LEGEND OF THE BARGELLO.

"One day a young man, who had been gaming and lost, threw some dirt at an image of the Virgin in one of the numerous shrines in the city, blaming her for his bad luck. He was observed by a boy, who reported it to the authorities, and was soon arrested. Having confessed that he did it in a rage at having lost, he was hanged the same night from one of the windows of the Bargello." {164}

* * * * *

Thereby adding another ghost or _folletto_ to those who already haunt the place. It should be noted that according to Italian witch-lore a ghost is never simply the spirit of the departed as he _was_, but a spirit transformed. A witch becomes a _fata_, good or bad, and all men something more than they were.

Among other small legends or tales in which the Bargello is referred to, I find the following, of which I must first mention that _debito_ in Italian means not only debt but duty, and that _fare un debito_ is not only to get into debt, but to do what is just, upright, and honourable.

"It happened once, long ago, that a certain good fellow was being
escorted, truly not by a guard of honour, but by several
bum-bailiffs, to the Bargello, and met a friend who asked him why he
was in custody. To which he replied, 'Other men are arrested and
punished for crime or villainy, but I am treated thus for having
acted honourably, _per aver fatto il debito mio_.'

"And it happened to this same man that after he had been entertained
for a time at the public expense in that _gran albergo_, or great
hotel, the Bargello, that the Council of Eight, or the public
magistracy, gave him a hearing, and told him that he must promptly
pay the debt which he owed, which was one of fifty _scudi_ or crowns.
To which he replied that he could not. Then the chief of the Eight
said, 'We will find out a way to make you pay it, be sure of that.'
To which he answered, '_De gratia_, _Signore_, while you are about
it, then, make it a hundred, for I have great need just now of
another fifty crowns.'"

Prisoners in the Bargello, as elsewhere, were subject to the most appalling injustice and cruelty. Thus we are told of Cosimo di Medici, when he was doing all in his power to assassinate or poison Piero Strozzi, that he was always very circumspect as regarded the venom, "and did not use it till he had studied the effects and doses on condemned prisoners in the Bargello." But "condemned prisoners" here means doubtless those who were simply condemned to be made the subjects of such experiments, as may be supposed, when we learn that Cosimo obtained the recipe of making up a poison from Messer Apollino, secretary of Piero Luigi, by _torturing_ him. It was thus they did in good old pious times. Poisoning, as a most familiar and frequent thing, even in England, did not pass out of practice, even in politics, until that great beginning of a moral era, the Reformation.

"_Haec fabula docet_," wrote the good and wise Flaxius on the revise, "that as a _Zoccolone_ friar is the best priest for a peasant, so even a _buon diavolo_, or jolly devil, or a boon blackguard who knows his men, is, perhaps, generally the best guide for certain kinds of rough sinners, often setting them aright in life where a holy saint would be _inter sacrem et saxum_, or in despair. As for poisoning, I fear _that_ cup, far from passing away, is, under another form, passed round far more frequently now than it ever was. For Francois Villon declared that lying gossip, tittle-tattle, and second-hand slander were worse than poison (which simply kills the body), and this with infinite refinement prevails far more in modern society (being aided by newspapers) than it ever did of yore anywhere. _This_ is the poison of the present day, which has more _veneficae_ to spread it than the Locustan or Borgian venoms ever found. Now for a merrier tale!"

"If all that's written, talked or sunge
Must be of the follies of menne,
'Twere better that no one moved his tongue,
Or that none could use a penne.

"Jog on, jog on the footpath-waye,
And cheerily jump the stile;
A merry heart goes all the daye,
A sad one tires in a mile!"

LEGENDS OF SAN LORENZO THE CANON AND THE DEBTOR, AND THE CATS IN THE CLOISTER

"Pazienza, paziendum!
Disse il diavolo a Sant Antonium."

"A scratching he heard and a horrible groan,
As of hundreds of cats with mollrowing and moan:
'Oh!' said he to himself, 'sure the devil is come.'"

--_Mr. Jones and the Cats_.

The celebrated Church of San Lorenzo is a grand museum of art, even among the many of its kind in Florence. It was originally a Roman Christian basilica, built by the matron Giuliana, which edifice was consecrated A.D. 373 by Saint Ambrose, and called the Basilica Ambrosiana. It was partially rebuilt by Brunelleschi in 1435, and completed with sad alteration, and finished by Antonio Manetti. As is well known, or has been made known by many great poets, it contains the grandest statuary by Michael Angelo in its monuments of Lorenzo de' Medici and his uncle Giuliano.

This church served as a sanctuary in the olden time, and of this there is a tale told in the old collections of facetiae, which, though trifling, is worth recalling as connected with it.

IL DEBITORE.

"Messer Paolo dell' Ottonaio, a Canon of San Lorenzo in Florence, a cheerful and facetious man, found a certain citizen one of his friends, who had taken refuge as a debtor in the church; and the latter stood in sorrowful and pensive attitude, having in no wise the appearance of one who had found a treasure, or who was going to be married, or to dine with the Duke, or anything of the kind.

"'Man, what aileth thee?' cried the Canon. 'Has thy wife beaten thee, or the cat broken thy best crockery, or thy favourite housemaid run away?'

"'What I have,' replied the poor man, 'is ten times worse than all that put together.' And so, _havendo caro di sfogarsi_, being glad to relieve himself, he told Messer Paolo all his sorrows, wailing that his creditors, having taken all his property, threatened his person, swearing that they would put him in the _Stinche_, which was so horrible a prison that it was infamous even then all the world over as an _inferno_ where every one confined at once became _infermo_, or a hell which made men ill, and that, being in despair, he would have taken his own life had he not come across a charming book on patience which had consoled him.

"Messer Paolo asked him whether the creditors had been paid in full.

"'Alas, no!' replied the debtor; 'not one half; nor will they ever get the rest, for I have naught.'

"'In that case,' answered the Canon, 'it seems to me that it is your creditors and not you who should read that charming book, since it is evident that, as they are to have nothing till the Greek Kalends, or on Saint Never's day, that they must have patience whether they will or no.'

"Well, as the saying is, _Pazienza vince scienza_ (Patience beats knowledge), and _Chi ha pazienza vede le sue vendette_ (Wait long enough and you'll get your revenges), the Canon got for the poor man money enough to make a composition with his creditors, and he, having expectations which they knew not of, compounded with them for five per cent., on conditions written, that he should pay all up 'as he earned more money.'

"And so he was set free, and it befell on a day that some relation died and left him a fortune, whereupon his creditors summoned him to pay his old debts, which he refused to do. Then they cited him before the Council as a fraudulent debtor, but he replied by showing his quittance or agreement, and declared that he was only obliged to pay out of his _earnings_, and that he had inherited his money and not earned it. Whereupon there was great dispute, and one of the creditors who had shown himself most unfeeling and inhuman protested that to get money in any way whatever was to _guadagnare_ (a gain by labour), since it was labour even to put it in one's pocket. Now, this man had a handsome wife, who, it was generally known, greatly enriched her husband by dishonouring him, at which he willingly winked.

"Whereupon the debtor asked the magistrate if an ox carried off a bundle of hay on his horns, which had by chance been stuck into it, he could be said to have earned it by honest labour? At which there was such a roar of laughter, and so many cries of 'No! no! no!' that the court went no further, and acquitted the culprit."

* * * * *

There is an odd bit of folklore attached to this church. As may be supposed, and as I have frequently verified, "the idle repetition of vain words," as the heathen do, or prayers in a language which people do not understand, generally lead to most ridiculous perversions of the unknown tongue. A popular specimen of this is the _Salve Regina delle Ciane Fiorentine di San Lorenzo_, or the "_Salve Regina_ of the Florentine women of the lower class, as given in San Lorenzo." _Ciana_ is given by Barretti as a specially Florentine word.

LA SALVE REGINA.

"Sarvia della Regina, dreco la Misericordia, vita d'un cieco, spezia nostra, sarvia tua, te chiamao esule, fili e vacche!

"Ate sospirao, i' gemeo fetente in barca e lacrima la valle.

"L' la eggo educata nostra, _illons in tus_.

"Misericordia se' cieli e in ossi e coperte, e lesine benedette, frutti, ventri, tubi, novi, posti cocche, esilio e tende!

"O crema, o pia, o dorce virgola Maria!--Ammenne!"

* * * * *

This is perfectly in the spirit of the Middle Ages, of which so much is still found in the cheapest popular Italian literature. I have elsewhere mentioned that it was long before the Reformation, when the Church was at the height of her power, that blasphemies, travesties of religious services, and scathing sarcasms of monkish life reached their extreme, and were never equalled afterwards, even by Protestant satirists. The _Epistolae Obscurorum Virorum_ of Hutten and Reuchlin was an avowed caricature by an enemy. The revelations of monkish life by Boccaccio, Cintio, Arlotto, and a hundred other good Catholics, were a thousand times more damaging than the _Epistolae_, because they were the unconscious betrayals of friends.

Since writing the foregoing, I have obtained the following, entitled, _The Pater Noster of the Country People in the Old Market_, or,

IL PATER NOSTER DEI BECERI DI MERCATO.

"Pate nostro quisin celi sanctifice tuore nome tumme; avvenia regno tumme; fia te volunta stua, in celo en terra.

"Pane nostro cotediano da nobis sodie, e dimitti nobis debita nostra, sicutte ette nos dimittimus debitori nostri, sette ananossie in due casse, intenzione sedie nosse e mulo.--Amenne!"

* * * * *

There is, however, this great difference in the two prayers here given, that the _Salve Regina_ is intended for a jest, while the paternoster is given as actually taken down from a _ciana_, and is rather a specimen of dialect than a _jeu d'esprit_. The following _Ave Maria_ is also serious, and simply a curiosity of language:--

L'AVE MARIA.

"Avemmaria grazia piena, domino teco beneditta e frustris, e mulieri busse e benedetti fruttus ventris tui eiusse!

"Santa Maria Materdei, ora pro nobisse, pecatoribusse, tinche, tinona, mortis nostrisse.--Ammenne!"

* * * * *

These specimens of Italianised Latin are not so grotesque as some which were written out for me in all seriousness by a poor woman. A specimen of the latter is given in my work on "Etruscan-Roman Traditions."

Last of all, there came to me a small tale of little value, save that it professes to account for the reason why so many cats have ever flourished and been nourished in the cloister of San Lorenzo, these felines being, indeed, in a small way among the lions of Florence. It is as follows:--