LEGENDS OF FLORENCE 
WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
HANS BRE
KEGAN PAUL, TRENCT
HANS BREITMANN IN
T. 
SONGS OF THE SE
A.
THE ALGONQUIN L
SAMP
THE GYPSIES. B(
THE ENGLISH GYPS
KEGAN PAUL, TRE
GYPSY BALLA
KEGAN PAUL, TRE
ETRUSCAN-ROMAN LEE
T. FISH
GYPSY SORCER
PIDGIN-ENGLISH Si 
KEGAN PAUL, TRE
PRACTICAL EDUC
MANUALS OF WOOD C
LEATHER-Wo
(These works have been
kind by many of the most
Great Britain.)
TRANSLATION OF HEINE'S WORKS. WM. HEINEMANN.
MEMOIRS. WM. HEINEMANN.
I
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ru     tof ~ornutt
Collected from tbc tpoplc
And Re-told
by
Charles godfrey Leland
(Hans Breitnmann)
first Orrito
NE V YORK
MAACMILLAN AND CO
I895
Ia
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Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
A4t thze Ballantyne Press 
i
PREFACE
THIS book consists almost entirely of legends or traditions of a varied character, referring to places and buildings
in Florence, such as the Cathedral and Campanile, the
Signoria, the Bargello, the different city gates, ancient
towers and bridges, palaces, crosses, and fountains, noted
corners, odd by-ways, and many churches. To all of
these there are tales, or at least anecdotes attached, which
will be found as entertaining to the general reader as
they will be interesting, not to say valuable, to the folklorist and the student of social history; but here I must
leave the work to speak for itself.
I originally intended that this should  be entirely a
collection of relics of ancient mythology, with superstitions and sorceries, witchcraft and incantations, or what
may be called occult folk-lore, of which my work on
"Etruscan-Roman Remains in Popular Tradition" consists, and of which I have enough additional material to
make a large volume. But having resolved to add to it
local legends, and give them the preference, I found that
the latter so abounded, and were so easily collected by an
expert, that I was obliged to cast out my occult folk-lore,
piece by piece, if I ever hoped to get into the port of
publication, according  to terms with  the underwriters,
following the principle laid down by the illustrious Poggio,
-)-eit,
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PREFACE
that in a storm the heaviest things must go overboard
first, he illustrating the idea with the story of the Flor entine, who, having heard this from the captain when at
sea in a tempest, at once threw his wife into the raging
billows-perche non haveva rosa pig grave di lei-because
there was nought on earth which weighed on him so
heavily.
There are several very excellent and pleasant works on
Old Florence, such as that portion devoted to it in the
"Cities of Central Italy," by A. J. C. Hare; the "Walks
about Florence," by the Sisters Horner;  "Florentine
Life," by Scaife; and the more recent and admirable
book by Leader Scott, which are all —I say it advisedlyindispensable for those who would really know something
about a place which is unusually opulent in ancient, adventurous, or artistic associations. My book is, however,
entirely different from these, and all which are exclusively
taken from authentic records and books. My tales are,
with a few exceptions, derived directly or indirectly
from the people themselves-having been recorded in
the local dialect-the exceptions being a few anecdotes
racy of the soil, taken from antique jest-books and such
bygone halfpenny literature as belonged to the multitude, and had its origin among them. These I could
not, indeed, well omit, as they every one refer to some
peculiar place in Florence. To these I must add several
which remained obscurely in my memory, but which I
did not record at the time of hearing or reading, not
having then the intention of publishing such a book.
It has been well observed by Wordsworth that minor
local legends sink more deeply into the soul than greater
vi 
PREFACE
histories, as is proved by the fact that romantic folk-lore
spreads far and wide over the world, completely distancing in the race the records of mighty men and their
deeds. The magic of Washington Irving has cast over
the Catskills and the Hudson, by means of such tales,
an indescribable fascination, even as Scott made of all
Scotland a fairyland; for it is indisputable that a strange
story, or one of wild or quaint adventure, or even of
humour, goes further to fix a place in our memory than
anything else can do. Therefore I have great hope that
these fairy-tales of Florence, and strange fables of its
fountains, palaces, and public places-as they are truly
gathered from old wives, and bear in themselves unmistakable evidences of antiquity- will be of real
use in impressing on many memories much which is
worth retaining, and which would otherwise have been
forgotten.
The manner in which these stories were collected was
as follows:-In the year 1886 I made the acquaintance
in Florence of a woman who was not only skilled in
fortune-telling, but who inherited as a family gift from
generations, skill in witchcraft-that is, a knowledge of
mystical cures, the relieving people who were bewitched,
the making amulets, and who had withal a memory stocked
with a literally incredible number of tales and names of
spirits, with the invocations to them, and strange rites
and charms. She was a native of the Romagna Toscana,
where there still lurks in the recesses of the mountains
much antique Etrusco-Roman heathenism, though it is
disappearing very rapidly.   Maddalena-such was her
name-soon began to communicate to me all her lore.
vii 
PREFACE
She could read and write, but beyond this never gave the
least indication of having opened a book of any kind;
albeit she had an immense library of folk-lore in her
brain. When she could not recall a tale or incantation,
she would go about among her extensive number of
friends, and being perfectly familiar with every dialect,
whether Neapolitan, Bolognese, Florentine, or Venetian,
and the ways and manners of the poor, and especially of
witches, who are the great repositories of legends, became
in time wonderfully well skilled as a collector. Now, as
the proverb says, "'Fake a thief to catch a thief," so I
found that to take a witch to catch witches, or detect their
secrets, was an infallible means to acquire the arcana of
sorcery. It was in this manner that I gathered a great
part of the lore given in my "Etruscan-Roman Remains."
I however collected enough, in all conscience, from other
sources, and verified it all sufficiently from classic writers,
to fully test the honesty of my authorities.
... The witches in Italy form a class who are the reposi  tories of all the folk-lore; but, what is not at all generally
known, they also keep as strict secrets an immense number
of legends of their own, which have nothing in common
with the nursery or popular tales, such as are commonly
collected and published. The real witch-story is very often
only a frame, so to speak, the real picture within it being
the arcanum of a long scongiurazione or incantation, and
what ingredients were used to work the charm. I have
given numbers of these real witch-tales in my "Etruscan  Roman  Remains," and a few, such as " Orpheus and
Eurydice," " Intialo," and " I1 Moschone," in this work.
Lady Vere de Vere, who has investigated witchcraft as
viii 
PREFACE
it exists in the Italian Tyrol, in an admirable article in La
Rivista of Rome (June I894)-which article has the only
demerit of being too brief-tells us that "the Community
of Italian Witches is regulated by laws, traditions, and
customs of the most secret kind, possessing special recipes
for sorcery," which is perfectly true. Having been free of
the community for years, I can speak from experience.
The more occult and singular of their secrets are naturally
not of a nature-to be published, any more than are those of
the Voodoos. Some of the milder sort may be found in the
story of the "Moscone, or Great Fly," in this work. The
great secret for scholars is, however, that these pagans
and heretics, who are the last who cling to a heathen
creed out-worn in Europe-these outcast children of the
Cainites, Ultra-Taborites, and similar ancient worshippers
of the devil, are really the ones who possess the most
valuable stores of folk-lore, that is to say, such as illustrate the first origins of the religious Idea, its development, and specially the evolution of the Opposition or
Protestant principle.
As regards the many legends in this book which do
not illustrate such serious research, it is but natural that
witches, who love and live in the Curious, should have
preserved more even of them than other people, and it
was accordingly among her colleagues of the mystic spell
that Maddalena found tales which would have been long
sought for elsewhere, of which this book is a most convincing proof in itself; for while I had resolved on second
thought to make it one of simple local tales, there still'
hangs over most-even of these-a dim, unholy air of
sorcery, a witch aura, a lurid light, a something eerie
ix
I.. e  
PREFACE
and uncanny, a restless hankering for the broom and the
supernatural. Those tales are Maddalena's every line-I
pray thee, reader, not to make them mine. The spirit will
always speak.
Very different, indeed, from these are the contributions
of Marietta Pery, the improvvisatrice, though even she in
good faith, and' not for fun, had a horseshoe for luck;
which, however, being of an artistic turn, she had elegantly
gilded, and also, like a true Italian, wore an amulet. She,
too, knew many fairy tales, but they were chiefly such
as may be found among the Racconti delle Fate, and the
variants which are now so liberally published. She had,
however, a rare, I may almost say a refined, taste in
these, as the poems which I have given indicate.
I must also express my obligations to Miss Roma
Lister, a lady born in Italy of English parentage, who is
an accomplished folk-lorist and collector, as was shown
by her paper on the Legends of the Castelli Romiani,
read at the first meeting of the Italian Folk-Lore Society,
founded by Count Angelo de Gubernatis, the learned and
accomplished Oriental scholar, and editor of La Rivista.
I would here say that her researches in the vicinity of
Rome have gone far to corroborate what I published in
the "Etruscan-Roman  Remains."   I must also thank
Miss Teresa Wyndham for sundry kind assistances,
when I was ill in Siena.
There is no city in the world where, within such narrow
limit, Art, Nature, and History have done so much to
make a place beautiful and interesting as Florence. It is
one where we feel that there has been vivid and varied
life-life such as was led by Benvenuto Cellini and a
x 
PREFACE
thousand like him-and we long more than elsewhere to
enter into it, and know how those men in quaint and picturesque garb thought and felt four hundred years ago.
Now, as at the present day politics and news do not
enter into our habits of thought more than goblins, spirits
of fountains and bridges, legends of palaces and towers,
and quaint jests of friar or squire, did into those of the
olden time, I cannot help believing that this book will be
not only entertaining, but useful to all who would study the
spirit of history thoroughly. The folk-lore of the future
has a far higher mission than has as yet been dreamed
for it; it is destined to revive for us the inner sentiment
or habitual and peculiar life of man as he was in the
olden time more perfectly than it has been achieved by
fiction. This will be done by bringing before the reader
the facts or p/zenonlena of that life itself in more vivid and
familiar form. Admitting this, the reader can hardly
fail to see that the writer who gathers up with pains
whatever he can collect of such materials as this book
contains does at least some slight service to Science.
And to conclude-with the thing to which I would
specially call attention-I distinctly state that (as will
be very evident to the critical reader) there are in this
book, especially in the second series, which I hope to
bring out later, certain tales, or anecdotes, or jests,
which are either based on a very slight foundation of
tradition-often a mere hint-or have been so "written
up" by a runaway pen-and mine is an " awful bolter"
-that the second-rate folk-lorist, whose forte consists
not in finding facts but faults, may say in truth, as one
of his kind did in America: "Mr. Leland is throughout
xi 
PREFACE
inaccurate." In these numerous instances, which are
only "folk-lore" run wild, as Rip Van Winkle, Sleepy
Hollow, and Heine's Gods in Exile are legend, I have,
I hope, preserved a certain spirit of truth, though I
have sans mercy sacrificed the letter, even as the redcap goblins, which haunt old houses, are said to be the
ghosts of infants sacrificed by witches, or slain by their
mothers, in order to make folletti or imps of them.
Now as for this reconstructing Hercules from a foot,
instead of giving the fragment, at which few would have
glanced, the success consists in the skill attained, and
the approbation of the reader. And with this frank
admission, that in a certain number of these tales the
utmost liberty has been taken, I conclude.
CHARLES GODFREY LEILAND.
FLORENCE, Apiril 6, I894.
xii 
CONTENTS
PAGE
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6
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I7
2 I
26
31
36
41
47
5I
THE THREE HORNS OF MESSER GUICCIARDINI.
THE PILLS OF THE MEDICI........
FURICCHIA, OR THE EGG-WOMAN OF THE MERCATO VECCHIO.
THE LANTERNS OF THE STROZZI PALACE.....
THE GOBLIN OF LA VIA DEL CORNO......
FRATE GIOCONDO, THE MONK OF SANTA MARIA NOVELLA 
THE LEGEND OF THE CROCE AL TREBBIO.....
THE TWO FAIRIES OF THE WELL......
THE STORY OF THE VIA DELLE SERVE SMARRITE.. 
THE BRONZE BOAR OF THE MERCATO NUOVO..
THE FAIRY OF THE CAMPANILE, OR THE TOWER OF GIOTTO.
THE GOBLIN OF THE TOWER DELLA TRINITA, OR THE PORTA
SAN NICCOLO..........
THE GHOST OF MICHEL ANGELO.......
THE APPARITION OF DANTE........
LEGENDS OF LA CERTOSA.......
LEGENDS OF THE BRIDGES IN FLIORENCE.....
THE BASHFUL LOVER
LA FORTUNA..........
THE STORY OF THE UNFINISHED PALACE.....
THE DEVIL OF THE MERCATO VECCHIO.....
SEEING THAT ALL WAS RIGHT.......
THE ENCHANTED COW OF LA VIA VACCHERECCIA
xiii
Xlll
54
59
62
66
74
85
87
gi
98
I07
log 
CONTENTS
PAGE
I14
II8
122
I32
I4I
THE WITCH OF THE PORTA ALLA CROCE.....
THE COLUMN OF COSIMO, OR DELLA SANTA TRINITA 
LEGENDS OF OR' SAN MICHELE.......
THE WITCH OF THE ARNO.......
STORIES OF SAN MINIATO........
THE FRIAR'S HEAD OF SANTA MARIA MAGGIORE-THE LADY
WHO CONFESSED FOR EVERYBODY-HOLY RELICS            4
BIANCONE, THE GIANT STATUE IN THE SIGNORIA.
THE RED GOBLIN OF THE BARGELLO.....
LEGENDS OF SAN LORENZO........
LEGEND OF THE PIAZZA SAN BIAGIO......
THE SPIRIT OF THE PORTA SAN GALLO...
STORY OF THE PODESTX WHO WAS LONG ON HIS JOURNEY.
LEGENDS OF THE BOBOLI GARDENS: THE OLD GARDENER, AND
THE TWO STATUES AND THE FAIRY.....
HOW LA VIA DELLA MOSCA GOT ITS NAME.
THE ROMAN VASE..........
THE UNFORTUNATE PRIEST.......
THE MYSTERIOUS FIG-TREE.......
IL PALAZZO FERONI........
LA VIA DELLE BELLE DONNE.....
THE WIZARD WITH RED TEETH......
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE........
INTIALO: TIlE SPIRIT OF THE HAUNTING SHADOW...
CAIN AND HIS WORSHIPPERS...
xiv
I49
I52
i6o
i67
174
I76
179
i84
i88
194
201
205
2II
219
221
225
237
254 
O F FLORENCE
THE THREE HORNS OF MESSER
G UICCIA RDINI
"More plenty than the fabled horn
Thrice emptied could pour forth at banqueting."
-KEATS,  The Earlier Version of" Hyperion."
"Prosperity is often our worst enemy, making us vicious, frivolous, and
insolent, so that to bear it well is a better test of a man than to endure
adversity."-GUICCIARDINI, Maximis, No. 64.
I DID not know when I first read and translated the
following story, which was obtained for me and written
out by Maddalena, that it had any reference to the
celebrated historian and moralist, Guicciardini. How I
did so forms the subject of a somewhat singular little
incident, which I will subsequently relate.
LE TRE CORNE.
"There was an elderly man, a very good, kind-hearted,
wise person, who was gentle and gay with every one, and
much beloved by his servants, because they always found
him buono ed allegro-pleasant and jolly. And often when
with them while they were at their work, he would say,
'Felice voi poveri'-'  Oh, how lucky you are to be poor!'
And they would reply to him, singing in the old Tuscan
fashion, because they knew it pleased him:
"' O caro Signor, you have gold in store,
With all to divert yourself;
Your bees make honey, you've plenty of money,
And victuals upon the shelf:
A palace you have, and rich attire,
And everything to your heart's desire.'
A
LEGENDS
I 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
'" Then he would reply merrily:
"'My dear good folk, because you are poor
You are my friends, and all the more,
For the poor are polite to all they see,
And therefore blessed be Poverty!'
"Then a second servant sang:
"' Oh bello gentile mio Signor',
Your praise of poverty'd soon be o'er
If you yourself for a time were poor;
For nothing to eat, and water to drink,
Isn't so nice as you seem to think,
And a lord who lives in luxury
Don't know the pressure of poverty.'
"Then all would laugh, and the jolly old lord would sing
in his turn:
-1' 0 charo servitor',
Tu parli tanto bene,
Ma il tuo parlar
A me non mi conviene.'...
"' My boy, you answer well,
But with false implication;
For what to me you tell
Has no true application;
How oft I heard you say
(You know'tis true, you sinner!)
"I am half-starved to-day,
How I'll enjoy my dinner!"
Your hunger gives you health
And causes great delight,
While I with all my wealth
Have not an appetite.'
"Then another servant sang, laughing:
"' Dear master, proverbs say,
I have heard them from my birth,
That of all frightful beasts
Which walk upon the earth,
Until we reach the bier,
Wherever man may be,
There's nothing which we fear
So much as poverty.'
"And so one evening as they were merrily improvising and
throwing stornelli at one another in this fashion, the Signore
went to his street-door, and there beheld three ladies of stately
form; for though they were veiled and dressed in the plainest
black long robes, it was evident that they were of high rank.
Therefore the old lord saluted them courteously, and seeing
I 
THE THREE HORNS OF MESSER GUICCIARDINI 3
that they were strangers, asked them whither they were going.
But he had first of all had them politely escorted by his
servants into his best reception-room.'
"And the one who appeared to be the chief replied:
"'Truly we know  not where we shall lodge, for in all
Florence there is, I trow, not a soul who, knowing who we
are, would receive us.'
"'And who art thou, lady?' asked the Signore. And she
replied:
"' Io mi chiamo, e sono,
La Poverta in persona,
E queste due donzelle,
Sono le mie sorelle,
Chi voi non conoscete
La Fame e la Sete!'
"'I am one whom all throw curse on.
I am Poverty in person;
Of these ladies here, the younger
Is my sister, known as Hunger,
And the third, who's not the worst,
Is dreaded still by all as Thirst.'
"'Blessed be the hour in which ye entered my house!'
cried the Signore, delighted.'Make yourselves at home, rest
and be at ease as long as you like-sempre sarei benglieto.'
"' And why are you so well disposed towards me?' inquired
Poverty.
"'Because, lady, I am, I trust, sufficiently wise with years
and experience to know that everything must not be judged
from the surface. Great and good art thou, since but for
thee the devil a beggar in the world would ever move a finger
to do the least work, and we should all be in mouldy green
misery.  Well hath it been said that'Need makes the old
woman trot,' 2 and likewise that Poverta non guasta genitlezza' Poverty doth not degrade true nobility,' as I can perceive by
thy manner, 0 noble lady. Thou, Poverty, art the mother of
Industry, and grandmother of Wealth, Health, and Art; thou
makest all men work; but for thee there would be no harvests,
yea, all the fine things in the world are due to Want.'
el m ie -io salotto di   ecevinmentto.  This is all an accurate picture of
old Florentine customs.
2 Necessita fa la vecchia trottare. On which proverb Matteo Villani
comments as follows: "And thus he truly verified the saying of Valerius
Maximus, that'the wants caused by human weakness are a common bond
of security,' all of which is briefly expressed in the French proverb,' Need
makes the old woman (or old age) bestir herself.'"  Valerius Maximus was
the prototype of Guicciardini. 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"' And I?' said Dame Hunger.' Dost thou also love me?'
"'Si, Dio ti benedicha!' replied the Signore.'La fame
ghastiga il ghioto'-' Hunger corrects gluttony.
"' Hunger causes our delight,
For it gives us appetite;
For dainties without hunger sent
Form a double punishment.'
'Hunger is the best sauce.' Thou makest men bold, for chane
afaniato non prezza bastone-a hungry dog fears no stick.
Thou makest the happiness of every feast.'
"'Ed io, Signore?' said Thirst.'Hast thou also a good
word for me?'
"' A Dio, grazie I God be praised that thou art.  For without thee I should have no wine. Nor do men speak in pity
of any one when they say in a wine-shop, "He is thirsty enough
to drink up the Arno." I remember a Venetian who once said,
coming to a feast, "I would not take five gold zecchini for this
thirst which I now have." And to sum it all up, I find that
poverty with want to urge it is better than wealth without
power to enjoy, and, taking one with another, the poor are
honester and have better hearts than the rich.'
"'Truly thou art great,' replied Poverty.' Gentile, buono, e
galantuomo a parlare-gentle, good, and noble in thy speech.
In such wise thou wilt ever be rich, for as thou art rich thou
art good and charitable. And thou hast well said that Plenty
comes from us, and it is we who truly own the horn of
plenty; and therefore take from me this horn as a gift, and
while thou livest be as rich as thou art good and wise!'
"'And I,' said Hunger,'give thee another, and while it is
thine thou shalt never want either a good appetite nor the
means to gratify it. For thou hast seen the truth that I was
not created to starve men to death, but to keep them from
starving.'
"'And I,' said Thirst,'give thee a third horn of plenty;
that is, plenty of wine and temperate desire-e buon pro vi
faccia.  Much good may it do you!'
"Saying this they vanished, and he would have thought it
all a dream but for the three horns which they left behind
them. So he had a long life and a happy, and in gratitude
to his benefactresses he placed on his shield three horns, as
men may see them to this day."
When I received this legend, I did not know that the
4 
THE THREE HORNS OF MESSER GUICCIARDINI 5
three horns on a shield form the coat of arms of Messer
Guicciardini, the historian, nor had I ever seen them. It
happened by pure chance I went one day with my wife
and Miss Roma Lister, who is devoted to folk-lore, to
make my first visit to Sir John Edgar at his home, the
celebrated old medieval palazzo, the Villa Guicciardini,
Via Montugli.
On the way we passed the Church of the Annunciata,
and while driving by I remarked that there were on its
wall, among many shields, several which had on them
a single hunting-horn, but that I had never seen three
together, but had heard of such a device, and was very
anxious to find it, and learn to what family it belonged.
What was my astonishment, on arriving at the villa
or palazzo, at beholding on the wall in the court a large
shield bearing the three horns. Sir John Edgar informed
me that it was the shield of the Guicciardini family, who
at one time inhabited the mansion. I related to him the
story, and he said, "I should think that tale had been
invented by some one who knew Guicciardini, the author,
very well, for it is perfectly inspired with the spirit of
his writings. It depicts the man himself as I have conceived him."
Then we went into the library, where my host showed
me Fenton's translation of the "History" of Guicciardini
and his "Maxims" in Italian, remarking that the one
which I have placed as motto to this chapter was in fact
an epitome of the whole legend.
I should observe, what did not before occur to me,
that the family palace of the Guicciardini is in the Via
Guicciardini, nearly opposite to the house of Machiavelli,
and that it is there that the fairies probably called, if it
was in the winter-time. 
THE PILLS OF THE MEDICI
"When I upon a time was somewhat ill,
Then every man did press on me a cure;
And when my wife departed, all of them
Came crowding round, commending me a spouse;
But now my ass is dead, not one of them
Has offered me another-devil a one! " —-Spenish Jests.
" Tu vai cercando il rial, come fainno i ilfedici "-" Thou goest about
seeking evil, even as the Medici do, and of thee and of them it may be
said, Anagyram commzoves."-Italian Proverbs, A.D. i6i8.
THE higher a tree grows, the more do petty animals
burrow into its roots, and displace the dirt to show how
it grew in lowly earth; and so it is with great families,
who never\ want for such investigators, as appears by the
following tale, which refers to the origin of the Medicis,
yet which is withal rather merry than malicious.
D'UNO MIEDICO CHE CURAVA GLI ASINI.
"It was long ago-so long, Signore Carlo, that the oldest
olive-tree in Tuscany had not been planted, and when wolves
sometimes came across the Ponte Vecchio into the town to
look into the shop-windows, and ghosts and witches were as
common by night as Christians by day, that there was a
man in Florence who hated work, and who had observed,
early as the age was, that those who laboured the least were
the best paid. And he was always repeating to himself:
"'Con arte e con inganno,
Si vive mezzo l'anno,
Con inganno, e con arte,
Si vive l'altra parte.'
"Or in English:
"'With tricks and cleverness,'tis clear,
A man can live six months i' the year,
And then with cleverness and tricks
hie'll live as well the other six.'
6 
THE PILLS OF THE MEDICI
"Now having come across a recipe for making pills which
were guaranteed to cure everything, he resolved to set up for
an universal doctor, and that with nothing but the pills to
aid. So he went forth from Florence, wandering from onevillage to another, selling his pills, curing some people, and
getting, as often happens, fame far beyond his deserts,
so that the peasants began to believe he could remedy all
earthly ills.
"And at last one day a stupid contadino, who had lost his
ass, went to the doctor and asked him whether by his art and
learning he could recover for him the missing animal. Whereupon the doctor gave him six pills at a quattrino (a farthing)
each, and bade him wander forth thinking intently all the
time on the delinquent donkey, and, to perfect the spell, to
walk in all the devious ways and little travelled tracks, solitary
by-paths, and lonely senteri, ever repeating solemnly,'Asino
r,io! asino mio / Tu che amo coine un zio I'
"' Oh my ass! my ass! my ass 1
Whom I loved like an uncle,
Alas! alas!'
"And having done this for three days, it came to pass, and
no great wonder either, that he found Signore Somaro (or
Don Key) comfortably feasting in a dark lane on thistles.
After which he praised to the skies the virtue of the wonderful
pills, by means of which one could find strayed cattle. And
from this dated the doctor's success, so that he grew rich and
founded the family of the Medici, who, in commemoration of
this their great ancestor, put the six pills into their shield, as
you may see all over Florence to this day."
There is given in the "Facezie" a story which may be
intended as a jest on this family. It is as follows:
"It happened once that a certain doctor or medico, who was
by no means wanting in temerita or bold self-conceit, was
sent as ambassador to Giovanna la Superba, or Joanna the
Proud, Queen of Naples. And this Florentine Medico having
heard many tales of the gallantries of the royal lady, thought
he would try the chance, and thereby greatly please himself,
and also the better advance his political aims. Therefore, at
the first interview, he told her that he was charged with a
secret mission, which could only be confided to her' between
7 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
four eyes,' or in private. So he was taken by her into a room,
where he bluntly made a proposal of love.1
"Then the Queen, not in the least discomposed, looking
straight at him, asked if that was one of the questions or
demands with which he had been charged by the Florentines.
At which he blushed like a beet and had no more to say,
having learned that a bold beggar deserves a stern refusal."
The name of the Medici naturally gave rise to many
jests, and one of these is narrated of Gonella, a famous
farceur. It is as follows:
"One morning, at the table of the Grand Duke Lorenzo,
there was a discussion as to the number and proportion of
those who followed different trades and callings, one declaring
that there were more clothmakers, another more priests than
any others, till at last the host asked Gonella his opinion.
"'I am sure,' said Gonella,'that there are more doctors
than any other kind of people-e non accade dubitarne-and
there is no use in doubting it.'
"'Little do you know about it,' replied the Duke,'if you
do not know that in all this city there are only two or three
accredited physicians.'
"'With how little knowledge,' answered Gonella,'can a
state be governed. It seems, 0 Excellency, that you have so
much to do that you do not know what is in your city, nor
what the citizens do.' And the result of the debate was a bet,
and Gonella took every bet offered, his stakes being small and
the others great-A quattrino e quattrino si fa iil fiorino
Farthings to farthings one by one make a pound when all is
done.
"The next morning Gonella, having well wrapped up his
throat and face in woollen stuff, stood, looking pitifully
enough, at the door of the Duomo, and every one who passed
asked him what was the matter, to which he replied,'All my
teeth ache  terribly.'   And  everybody offered him an infallible remedy, which he noted down, and with it the name of
him who gave it. And then going about town, he made out
during the day a list of three hundred prescribers, with as
many prescriptions.
l "Chiese alla regina di dormir seco."  Which was certainly very plain
blunt speaking, even for the time.
-8 
THE PILLS OF THE MEDICI
"And last of all he went to the palace at the hour of
supper, and the Grand Duke seeing him so wrapped up,
asked the cause, and hearing that it was toothache, also prescribed a sovereign remedy, and Gonella put it with the name
of the Duke at the head of the list. And going home, he had
the whole fairly engrossed, and the next day, returning to the
palace, was reminded of his bets. Whereupon he produced
the paper, and great was the laughter which it caused, since it
appeared by it that all the first citizens and nobles of Florence
were physicians, and that the Grand Duke himself was their
first Medico. So it was generally admitted that Gonella had
won, and they paid him the money, with which he made merry
for many days."
This tale has been retold by many a writer, but by none
better than by an American feuilletoniste, who improved
it by giving a number of the prescriptions commended.
Truly it has been well said that at forty years of age
every man is either a fool or a physician.
I have another legend of the Medici, in which it is
declared that their armorial symbol is a key, and in
which they are spoken of as wicked and cruel. It is as
follows:
I MEDICI.
"The Palazzo Medici is situated in the Borgo degli Albizzi,
and this palace is called by the people I  Visacchi (i.e., figures
or faces), because there are to be seen in it many figures of
people who were when alive all witches and wizards, but who
now live a life in death in stone.
"The arms of the Medici bear a great key, and it is said
that this was a sorcerer's or magic key, which belonged to the
master of all the wizards or to the queen of the witches.
"And being ever evil at heart and cruelly wicked, the old
Medici sought restlessly every opportunity to do wrong, which
was greatly aided by the queen of the witches herself, who
entered the family, and allied herself to one of it; others say
she was its first ancestress. And that being on her death-bed,
she called her husband, or son, or the family, and said:
"'Take this key, and when I am dead, open a certain
door in the cellar, which, through secret passages, leads to an
9 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
enchanted garden, in which you will find all the books and
apparatus needed to acquire great skill in sorcery, and thus
thou canst do all the evil and enjoy all the crime that a great
ruler can desire; spare not man in thy vengeance, nor woman
in thy passion; he lives best who wishes for most and gets
what he wants.'
"Thus it came to pass that the Medici became such villains,
and why they bear a key."
Villains they may have been, but they were not so
deficient in moral dignity as a friend of mine, who,
observing that one of the pills in their scutcheon is blue,
remarked that they were the first to take a blue pill.
Since the above was written I have collected many
more, and indeed far more interesting and amusing
legends of the Medici; especially several referring to
Lorenzo the Magnificent, which are not given by any
writer that I am aware of. These will appear, I trust, in
a second series.
"A race which was the reflex of an age
So strange, so flashed with glory, so bestarred
With splendid deeds, so flushed with rainbow hues,
That one forgot the dark abyss of night
Which covered it at last when all was o'er.
Take all that's evil and unto it add
All that is glorious, and the result
Will be, in one brief word, the Medici."
IO 
FURICCHIA, OR THE EGG-WOMAN OF THE
MERCA TO VECCHIO
"Est anus inferno, vel formidanda barathro,
Saga diu magicis usa magisteriis,
Hec inhians ova gallina matre creatis.
Obsipat assueto pharmaca mixta cibo,
Pharmaca queis quoecunque semel gallina voratis,
Ova decem pariat bis deciesque decem."
STEUCCIUS, cited by P. GOLDSCHMIDT,
Verworffener Hexei und Zauberadvocat.  Hamburg, 1705.
"E un figliuolo della gallina bianca."-Old Proverb.
THE Mercato Vecchio was fertile in local traditions, and
one of these is as follows:
LEGEND OF THE LANTERNS.
"There was in the Old Market of Florence an old house
with a small shop in it, and over the door was the figure or
bas-relief of a pretty hen, to show that eggs were sold there.
"All the neighbours were puzzled to know how the woman
who kept this shop could sell so many eggs as she did, or
whence she obtained them, for she was never seen in the
market buying any, nor were they brought to her; whence they
concluded that she was a witch and an egg-maker, and this
scandal was especially spread by her rivals in business. But
others found her a very good person, of kindly manner, and it
was noted in time that she not only did a great deal of good
in charity, and that her eggs were not only always fresh and
warm, but that many persons who had drunk them when ill
had been at once relieved, and recovered in consequence.
And the name of this egg-wife was Furicchia.
"Now there was an old lady who had gone down in the
world or become poor, and she too had set up a shop to sell
eggs, but did not succeed, chiefly because everybody went to
Furicchia. And this made the former more intent than ever to
discover the secret, and she at once went to work to find it out.
II 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"Every morning early, when Furicchia rose, she went out
of doors, and then the hen carved over the door came down
as a beautiful white fowl, who told her all the slanders and
gossip which people spread about her, and what effort was
being made to discover her secret. And one day it said:
"'There is the Signora who was once rich and who is now
poor, and who has sworn to find out thy secret how thou canst
have so many eggs to sell, since no one sees thee buy any,
and how it comes that invalids and bewitched children are at
once cured by the virtue of those eggs. So she hopes to bring
thee to death, and to get all thy trade.
"'But, dear Furicchia, this shall never be, because I will
save thee. I well remember how, when I was a little chicken,
and the poultry dealer had bought me, and was about to wring
my neck-b'r'r'r!-I shudder when I think of it!-when thou
didst save my life, and I will ever be grateful to thee, and
care for thy fortune.
"'Now I will tell thee what to do.  Thou shalt to-morrow
take a pot and fill it with good wine and certain drugs, and
boil them well, and leave it all hot in thy room, and then
go forth, and for the rest I will provide.  Addio, Furicchia!'
And saying this, the hen went back into her accustomed place.
"So the next morning, Furicchia, having left the wine
boiling, went forth at ten o'clock, and she was hardly gone
ere the Signora, her rival, entered the place and called for the
mistress, but got no answer. Then she went into the house,
but saw nothing more than a vast quantity of eggs, and all the
while she heard the hen singing or clucking:
"' Coccode! Dear me!
Where can Furicchia be?
Coccode! Furicchia mine!
Bring me quick some warm red wine!
Cocco,i! Three eggs I have laid!
Coccode! Now six for your trade.
CoccodZ! Now there are nine,
Bring me quickly the warm red wine!
Coccode! Take them away;
Many more for thee will I lay,
And thou wilt be a lady grand,
As fine as any in all the land;
And should it happen that any one
Drinks of this wine as I have done,
Eggs like me she will surely lay;
That is the secret, that is the way.
Coccode! Coccode!'
I2 
FURICCHIA
"Now the Signora heard all this, and knew not whence the
song came, but she found the pot of hot wine and drank it
nearly all, but had not time to finish it nor to escape before
Furicchia returned. And the latter began to scold her visitor
for taking such liberty, to which the Signora replied,'Furicchia, I came in here to buy an egg, and being shivering with
cold, and seeing this hot wine, I drank it, meaning indeed to
pay for it.'  But Furicchia replied,'Get thee gone;  thou
hast only come here to spy out my secret, and much good
may it do thee!'
"The Signora went home, when she begun to feel great
pain, and also, in spite of herself, to cluck like a hen, to the
amazement of everybody, and then sang:
"' Coccode! Che mal di corpo!
Coccode'! Voglio fa l'uovo I
E se l'uova non faro,
Di dolore moriro.'
"'Coccode! What a pain in my leg!
Coccodi! I must lay an egg!
And if my eggs I cannot lay,
I shall surely die to-day.'
"Then she began to lay eggs indeed-tante, tante-till they
nearly filled all the room, and truly her friends were aghast at
such a sight, never having heard of such a thing before; but
she replied,'Keep quiet; it is a secret. I have found out
how Furicchia gets her eggs, and we shall be as rich as she.'
And having laid her eggs, nothing would do but she must
needs hatch them, and all the time for many days she sat and
sat, clucking like a hen-coccode   coccode!-and pecking at
crusts like a hen, for she would not eat in any other way.
And so she sat and shrivelled up until she became a hen indeed, and was never anything else, and died one. But when
the eggs hatched, there came from them not chicks, but mice,
which ran away into the cellar, and so ends the story."
This story greatly resembles one given by Peter Goldschmidt in " The Witches' and Sorcerers' Advocate Overthrown," published at Hamburg in 1705, and to the same
as sung in Latin song by a certain Steuccius.   The
Italian tale is, however, far better told in every respect,
the only point in common being that a certain witch laid
I3 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
eggs by means of a potion, which produced the same
effect on a man. It is the well-managed play of curiosity,
gratitude, and character which make Furicchia so entertaining, and there is nothing in the heavy German tale
like the "Song of the Hen," or Coccode, which is a
masterpiece of ajuvenile lyric. The clucking and pecking
at crusts of the old woman, as she gradually passes into
a hen, is well imagined, and also the finale of the chickens
turned to mice, who all run away. One could make of
it a play for the nursery or the stage.
The Mercato Vecchio, in which the egg-wife dwelt, was
a place of common resort in the olden time, "when there
was giving and taking of talk on topics temporal: "
"Where the good news fleetly flew,
And the bad news ever true,
Softly whispered, loudly told,
Scalding hot or freezing cold." 1
This place is recalled by a story which is indeed to be
found in the facetim of the Florentine Poggio, yet which
holds its own to this day in popular tale-telling. It is
as follows:
"It happened once when Florence was at war with the
Duke of Milan, that a law was passed making it death for
any one to speak in any way of peace. Now there was a
certain Bernardo Manetti, a man di ingegno vivacissimno, or an
extremely ready wit, who being one day in the Mercato
Vecchio to buy something or other (it being the custom of
the Florentines of those times to go in person to purchase
their daily food), was much annoyed by one of those begging
friars who go about the roads, alla questua, collecting alms,
and who stand at street-corners imploring charity. And this
brazen beggar, accosting Bernardo, said to him:
1 ", Le cattive nove volano,
Le male son sempre vere;
Prima l'annunzio, poi malanno,
Chi me ne da una calda, e chi una fredda."
-Italian Proverb.
14 
FURICCHIA
P,  ax vobiscunm!  Peace be unto you!'
"' A chi parlasti dipace? -How darest thou speak to me of
peace, thou traitor and enemy to Florence?' cried Bernardo in
well-assumed anger.'Dost thou not know that by public
decree thou may'st lose thy shaven head for mentioning the
word? And thou darest ask me for alms here in the open
market-place, thou traitor to thy country and thy God! Apage,
Satanas-avaunt!-begone! lest I be seen talking to thee and
taken for a conspirator myself! Pax indeed-pack off with
you, ere I hand you over to the torturers!'
"And so he rid himself of that importunate beggar."
Apropos of the egg-wife, if chickens are apropos to
eggs, there is a merry tale of a certain priest, which
will, I think, amuse the reader. Like all good folk, the
Florentines make fun of their neighbours, among whom
are of course included the people of Arezzo, and tell of
them this story:
"Long long ago, a certain Bishop Angelico convoked a
Synod at Arezzo, summoning every priest in his diocese to be
present; and knowing that many had slipped into very slovenly
habits as regarded the sacerdotal uniform, made it a stern and
strict order that every one should appear in caipa e cotta,1 or
in cloak and robe.
"Now there was a priest who, though he kept a well-filled
cellar, and a pretty servant-maid, and a fine poultry-yard, had
none of these clerical vestments, and knew not where to borrow
them for the occasion; so he was in great distress and stavasi
miolto aflitto in casa sua-sat in deep affliction in his home.
And his maid, who was a bright and clever girl, seeing him so
cast down, asked him the cause of his grief, to which he replied
that the Bishop had summoned him to appear at the Synod in
calppa e cotta.
"' Oh, nonsense!' replied the good girl.' Is that all?  My
dear master, you do not pronounce the words quite correctly,
or else they have been badly reported to you. It is not cappa
e cotta which the Bishop requires, for assuredly he has plenty
of such clothes, but capponi cotti,'good roast capons,' such as
all bishops love, and which he knows he can get better from
' The cappa is a cloak with a hood or " capuchin; " a cotta is the stole
worn by Catholic priests.
I 5 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
the country priests than from anybody. And grazie a Dio!
there is nobody in all Tuscany has better poultry than ours,
and I will take good care that you give the Bishop of the
very best.'
"Now the priest being persuaded by the maid, really made
his appearance at the Council bearing in a dish well covered
with a napkin four of the finest roasted capons ever seen.
And with these he advanced in ileno condlo, in full assembly
before the Bishop. The great man looked severely at the
priest, and said:
"' Where are thy cappa e cotta?'
"' Excellenza, behold them!' said the good man, uncovering
the dish.'And though I say it, no better cayponi cotte can
be had in all our country.'
"The Bishop and all round him gazed with breathless
admiration on the fowls, so plump, so delicious, so exquisitely
roasted, with lemons ranged round them. It was just the
hungry time of day, and, in short, the priest had made a
blessed happy blunder, and one which was greatly admired.
There was general applause.
"'Fi,-Iio mioI' said the Bishop with a smile,'take my
blessing! Thou alone of all the ministers of our diocese didst
rightly understand the spirit and meaning of an episcopal
edict.'"
I6 
THE LANTERNS OF THE STROZZI PALACE
"And what this man did was, as the proverb says, mostrare altrui
lucciole per laterne —made him believe that fire-flies were lanterns-which
means to deceive any one."-Italian Proverbs.
As all visitors to Florence will have their attention called
to the Strozzi Palace, and its rings and lanterns, the following will probably prove to them to be of interest:
"The camnianelle, or great iron rings, which are on the Strozzi
Palace, were the result of rivalry with the Pitti family.
"The Strozzi built their palace first, and then the Pitti said
that it would only fill a corner of their own far greater building.
And when the latter was finished, the Strozzi, to be even with
them, placed those magnificent canianelle at the four corners,
and then the great lanterns which are so exquisitely worked,
and these were made by Niccolob il Grosso, a very ingenious
but also very poor man, who, having begun the work, could
not finish it for want of money.
"One morning when this Niccolob was sitting on the stone
bench of the palace, there came by an old man who was carrying some onions, and the artist begged a few of these to eat
with his bread, telling him he had no money. But the old
man said,'Take them, and welcome, for a free gift, Niccolb.
Truly, it pains me to see an excellent artist like thee starving
for want of proper patronage. Now I will lend thee a round
sum, which thou canst repay me when thou art in better luck.'
"'But tell me,' inquired Niccolob, greatly amazed,'how dost
thou know who I am?'
"The old man replied,'I know thee, and that thou hast
great genius (una gran testa), and I find thee utterly poor, and
unable to finish the Strozzi lanterns.
"' Now I wish to do thee a service.   Go, with these onions
in thine hand, and stand there in the street till the Lords Strozzi
go forth, and see thee with the vegetables, and then they will
27                     B 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
ask thee why thou dost not finish the lanterns. And then
thou shalt reply, "Signori, because I must sell onions, not
being able otherwise to finish the lanterns, for truly all my
art does not give me bread." Then they will give thee money,
and after that return to me.'
"So it happened as the old man said: the Signori Strozzi,
when they came forth, found Niccolob their artist selling onions,
and gave him a good sum of money, and with that he went
back to the old man. And they gave him a great sum indeed,
for he was to make the lanterns all of solid gold, so that the
palace might be far finer than the Pitti.
"The old man said,'Never mind paying me, but put an
onion in your pocket and study it.' And this he did, hence
it comes that the tops of the lanterns are like onion sprouts.
And Niccolob seeing that he lived in a hard and cruel world,
in order to be even with it, made the lanterns of iron, though
the work which he put upon it was like jewellery, so fine was it,
and then gilded the iron and passed the lanterns off on the
Signori Strozzi for solid gold, and was soon heard off as being
very far away from Florence, in company with the good old
man who had put him up to the little game (bel giuoco).
"But people say that after all the Strozzi were not so badly
cheated, for those onion-top lanterns could not have been
bought even in their time for their weight in gold, and that
they are worth much more now."
It is needless to say that this ingenious tale owes its
origin to the iron lanterns having been at one time gilt.
These famous works of art have been copied far and
wide: had the Strozzi family taken out and renewed the
copyright for design on them, they might have found that
the gold was a very good investment, especially in these
times, when a thing of beauty brings in cash for ever.
One of the latest and prettiest devices, to be seen in
many shops, is a small iron night-lamp in imitation of
these Strozzi lanterns.
The im-moral, or at least the concluding sentence of the
tale is, " E cost Niccolb se nefuggi a taschepiene-And so
Niccol6 fled with his pockets full of money." I spare the
reader reflections on the history of many bankers in
I8 
THE LANTERNS OF THE STROZZI PALACE i9
Florence and Rome, who during the past two years
followed his example.
What is extremely interesting and original in this
legend is the declaration that Niccol6 took the idea of the
long and very singular points on the lanterns from an
onion. It recalls the story of the acanthus leaf and the
basket which suggested the Ionic capital. It was understood by the narrator that the old man who gave "the
tips " to Niccol6 was a wizard.
There was much more meaning attached to the lanterns
and rings, such as Niccolo made, than is generally known,
as appears by the following extract:
"Among the striking features of the Florentine palaces
are the handsome ornaments of bronze or wrought-iron which
adorn the facades of many of them. These were called
fanah or /umikre, and were not, as one would naturally suppose, ornaments that a man might place on his house according
to his individual taste, but they were the visible testimony of
the public recognition of great deeds. On festive occasions,
these fanali were provided with great pitch torches, whose
crackling flames gave a merry aspect to the whole neighbourhood. Amerigo Vespucci addressed the account of one of
his voyages to the Gonfaloniere Piero Soderini, with whom he
had formerly been on intimate terms, and the latter procured
a decree of the Republic, in accordance with which fanali were
sent to the family palace of the Vespucci, and kept burning
day and night for three days.
"The most beautiful of all the Florentine fanali... are
those which adorn the corners of the famous Strozzi Palace.
They are of wrought-iron, and were made by a smith who
enjoyed a local celebrity, not only on account of his masterly
work, but also because he carried on his business on a strictly
cash basis; nay, went further, and refused to work for any
one who did not prepay, in part at least, for his order. Thus
he received the name  of Caparra, or Earnest-money."Florentine Life, by W. B. Scaife, p. 58.
There is one thing in this legend which alone would
seem to guarantee its being an authentic or old tradition. 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
In it Niccol6 appears as a man who is eminently grasping,
and who takes care to get his money in advance. And
he was in reality so noted for this, that, as Scaife declares,
he went further than dealing on a cash basis-and so
got the nickname of Caparra, or the Pledge-so well did
h e    know the value of cash.  JI martel d'argento rompe
le porte di ferro, or
" A hammer of silver, as we see,
Breaks the iron gates of poverty."
20 
THE GOBLIN OF LA VIA DEL CORNO
"Oh for one blast of that dread horn,
On Fontarabian echoes borne,
When Roland brave and Olivier
And every paladin and peer
At Roncesvalles died."- I'alter Scott.
"The Korrigan who ever wears a horn."
THE Via del Corno is a narrow street passing from the
Via del Leone. I have found the following story in
reference to the origin of its name, which, if not authentic,
is at least amusing and original:
LA VIA DEL CORNO.
"There was in what is now known as the Via del Corno
an ancient palace, which a long time ago was inhabited only
by a certain gentleman and a goblin.1
"Nor had he any servants, because of all who came, none
remained more than one day for fear of the fo/letto. And
as this spread far and wide, people kept away from the Via
del Corno after dark; but as this also kept away thieves, and
the goblin did all the house-work, the master was all the better
pleased. Only on one point did the two differ, and that was
the point of morality. Here the goblin was extremely strict,
and drew the line distinctly.  Several times, as was the custom
in those wicked days, the Signore attempted to introduce a
lady-friend to the palazzo, but the goblin all night long, when
not busied in pulling the sheets from the fair sinner, was
industriously occupied in strewing nettles or burrs under her,
or tickling the soles of her feet with a pen; and then anon,
1 Folletto. This, which meant originally an airy tricksy sprite, is now
applied not only to fairies and goblins in general, but also to every kind
of supernatural apparition. I have a book in which even comets are
described asfolletti.
2I 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
when, sinking to sleep, she hoped for some remission of the
tease, he would begin to play interminable airs on a horn.
It is true that he played beautifully, like no earthly musician,
but even enchanting airs may be annoying when they prevent
sleep.
"Nor did the lord fare the better, even when, inspired by
higher motives, he'would a-wooing go.' For one lady or
another had heard of the goblin, and when they had not, it
always happened that by some mysterious means or other the
match was broken off.
"Meantime the life led by the Signore was rather peculiar,
as he slept nearly all day, sallied forth for an hour or two to
exercise, go to a barber's, make his small purchases, or hear
the news, supped at a trattoria, and then returning home, sat
all night listening to the goblin as he played divinely on the
horn, or blew it himself, which he did extremely well, toped
and hob-nobbed with his familiar, who was a great critic of
wine, and, as the proverb says,' Buon vino fiaba lunga-Good
wine, long tales'-they told one another no end of merry and
marvellous stories; and as il vin fa cantare, it makes man sing,
they also sang duets, solos, and glees. And when the weather
was ill, or chilly, or rainy, or too hot, they cured it with Chianti,
according to a medical prescription laid down in sundry rare
old works:
" Nebbia, nebbia, mattutina,
Che ti levi la mattina?
Questa tazza di buon vino,
Fatta d'una marzamina,
Contra te sia medecina!'
"'Cloudy sky i' the morning early,
What will make you vanish fairly?
Ah! this goblet of good wine,
Essence of the blessed vine,
Shall be for thee a medicine!'
"Then  they played chess, cards, cribbage, drole, ecart6,
Pope Joan, bo, brag, casino, thirty-one, put, snip-snap-snorem,
lift-em-up, tear-the-rag, smoke, blind-hookey, bless-your-grandmother, Polish-bank, seven-up, beggar-my-neighbour, patience,
old-maid, fright, baccarat, belle-en-chemise, bang-up, howlingMoses, bluff, swindle-Dick, go-it-rags, ombre or keep-dark,
morelles, go-bang, goose, dominoes, loto, morra or push-pin.
And when extra hands were wanted they came, but all that
came were only fairy hands, short at the wrist, the goblin
22 
THE GOBLIN OF LA VIA DEL CORNO
remarking that it saved wine not to have mouths, et cetera.
Then they had long and curious and exceedingly weighty
debates as to the laws of the games and fair play, not forgetting
meanwhile to sample all the various wines ever sung by Redi.1
So they got on, the Signore realising that one near friend is
worth a hundred distant relations.
"Now it befell one night that the goblin, having seen the
Signore take off a pint of good old strong Barolo very neatly
and carefully, without taking breath or winking, exclaimed with
a long, deep sigh:
"'Thou art a gallant fellow, a right true boon companion,
and it grieves me to the heart to think that thou art doomed
to be drowned to-morrow.'
"'Oh you be-doctored!' replied the Signore.'There
isn't water enough in the Arno now to drown a duck, unless
she held her head under in a half-pint puddle.'
"The goblin went to the window, took a look at the stars,
whistled and said:
"'As I expected, it is written that you are to be drowned
to-morrow, unless you carry this horn of mine hung to your
neck all day.
"'Quando ti trovi nel pericolo,
Suona questo corno piccolo,
E tu sarai salvato,
Non sarai affogato!'
"' If thou find'st thyself forlorn,
Blow aloud this little horn,
And thou wilt be safe and sound,
For with it thou'lt not be drowned.'
"Saying this, he solemnly handed the horn to the cavalier,
drank off a goblet of muscato, wiped his lips, bowed a ceremonious good-night, and, as was his wont, vanished with
dignity up the chimney.
"The gentleman was more troubled by this prediction than
he liked to admit. I need not say that the next day he did
not go near the Arno, though it was as dry as a bone; nay,
he kept out of a bath, and was almost afraid to wash his face.
"At last he got the fancy that some enemies or villains
would burst into his lonely house, bind him hand and foot,
carry him far away, and drown him in some lonely stream, or
1 Redi's Bacco in 7Toscana is known to the most ignorant in Florence,
there being very cheap editions of it constantly sold.
23 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
perhaps in the sea.  He remembered just such a case.   We
all remember just such cases when we don't want to. That
was it, decidedly.
"Then he had a happy thought. There was a little hidingchamber, centuries old, in the palazzo, known only to himself,
with a concealed door. He would go and hide there. He
shouted for joy, and when he entered the room, he leaped with
a great bound from the threshold of the door, down and over
three or four steps, into the middle of the little room.
"Now he did not know that in the cantina or cellar below
this hiding-place there was an immense tino, or vat, containing hundreds of barrels of wine, such as are used to hold the
rough wine ere it is drawn off and'made;' nor that the
floor was extremely decayed, so that when he came down on it
with a bounce, it gave way, and he found himself in the cellar
over head and ears in wine.
"And, truly, for a minute he deemed that he was drowning
in earnest. And the sides of the vat were so high that he
could not climb out. But while swimming and struggling for
life, he caught between his thumb and finger at a nail in the
side, and to this he held, crying as loud as he could shout for
aid. But no one came, and he was just beginning to despair,
when he thought of the horn!
"It still hung from his neck, and pouring out the wine, he
blew on it, and there came forth such a tremendous, appalling,
and unearthly blast as he of himself could never have blown.
It rang far and wide all over Florence, it was heard beyond
Fiesole, it wakened the dead in old Etrurian graves, for an
instant, to think they had been called by Tinia to meet the
eleven gods; it caused all the folletti, fate, diavoi, strege, and
rnaliardi to stop for an instant their deviltries or delights.
For it was the Great Blast of the Horn of the Fairies, which
only plays second fiddle to the last trump.'
"And at that sound all Florence came running to see what
was the matter.  The Grand Duke and his household came;
the Council of the Eight burst their bonds, and left the
Palazzo Vecchio; everybody came, and they fished out the
Signore, and listened with awe to his tale. The priests said
that the goblin was San Zenobio, the more liberal swore it
was Crescenzio, the people held to plain San Antonino. The
Signore became a great man.
1 " Can a horn play second fiddle?" inquires Flaxius.  "This comes of
trying to improve on the simple Italian text."
24 
THE GOBLIN OF LA VIA DEL CORNO
"' My son,' said the goblin to him in confidence the following evening, as they sat over their wine (here I follow the text
of Maddalena),'this is our last night together.  Thou art
saved, and I have fulfilled my duty to thee. Once I, too, was
a man like thee, and in that life thou didst save mine by
rescuing me from assassins. And I swore to watch over thee
in every peril, and bring thee to a happy end.'
"'II momento e arrivato;
Addio, Via del Corno!
Addio, palazzo, addio!
Addio, padrone, nel altro mondoI'
"'The final hour has come for me;
Street of the Horn, farewell to thee!
Farewell, 0 palace, farewell, 0 street!
My lord, in another world we'll meet.'
"Then the goblin told the Signore that he would ere long
contract a happy marriage, and that it was for this that he had
hitherto kept him from forming alliances which would have
prevented it; and that if in future he should ever be in great
need of assistance, to sound the horn, and he would come to
him, but that this must always be in the palace alone after
midnight. And having said this he vanished.
"The Signore grieved for a long time at the loss of his
goblin friend, but he married happily, as had been predicted,
and his life was long and prosperous. So he put the horn
in his shield, and you may see it to this day on the Church
of Santa Maria Novella. And so it was that the Via del Corno
got its name."
"From  which  we  may learn," saith Flaxius, "that
wherever a man is appointed to be on a certain day,
there will the man be found. Therefore do thou, 0
reader, so manage it that wherever thou art appointed to
be, thou canst get well out of it. For even Fate smiles
when it desires to do so."
25 
FRA TE GIOCONDO, THE MONK OF
SANTA MARIA NOVELLA
"In illo tempore-no-in diebus illis, che i frati sogliono percorrere il
contado delle terre e delle citta per far proviste alla barba degli scimuniti
d'ogni genere pappatorio, vale dir di grano, formentone, legumi, mosto,
cacio, olio, canape, lino, uova et cetera-un certo fra Zeffiro, se ne gira
alla volta d'un villagio e tenevagli compagnia il suo ciucarello che carica
gia a doppio sacchetto."-L'Asino e il suo Frate, Racconti Piacevoli, I864.
"Und sie war gar sehr erstannet fiber die Adresse und List dieses
Muinchleins."-Lustige Thaten des X7oster-bruders Hannes von lehnin,
A.D. I589.
" Monachus in claustro
Non valet ova dua,
Sed extra-bene valet triginta."-Rabelais.
AMONG the monks of Santa Maria Novella in ancient
days was one known as Frate Giocondo, who was truly
of the kind who are of little use at home, or at any steady
or reputable calling, but who was profitable enough when
scouring the country on the loose, blarneying and begging
from the good wives, giving counsel to the peasants, and
profitable advice, while he ate their chickens and drank
their wine, chucking all the pretty girls under their chins,
or sub silentio, and making himself sociable, edifying,
amusing, or holy-according to circumstances.   Of whom
it could be truly said:
" Monaco in convento
Non vale niente,
Ma fuori vale venti."
"Monk in monastery
Is not worth a cherry;
But abroad when sent, he
Often is worth twenty."
As a preaching friar of Saint Dominic, truly Brother
Giocondo was not a success, but as a beggar he beat
26 
FRA TE GIOCONDO
all the Zoccoloni out of Rome,' and that is saying a
great deal. For there never was a friar with such an
oiled and honeyed tongue, with which he could flatter
and wheedle, tell legends of the saints, witches, or goblins
by the hour, give all the gossip going; nor was he above
selling his collections, or trading donkeys, or taking a
hand at a game of cards, or singing to a lite, or even
fiddling to a dance-so that, being a great, burly, handsome, merry-eyed knave, he got on marvellously well in
the world, his jests being reported even in Siena.
Now one evening he was returning home to Santa
Maria Novella dailla cercha, "from the quest," and found
himself still a few miles from Florence. And good fortune had favoured him marvellously that day, for his ass
bore two panniers which were ben carichi adooni sorta di
grazia di Dio-" stuffed full with all sorts of mercies of
God," such as bags of wheat, maize, wheat-meal, chickens,
oil, cheese, butter, wine, truffles, onions, geese, turnips,
sausages, bread, ducks; in short, Signore, as I said, there
was ogni sorta di gra2ia di Dio, and enough to support a
poor family for a month.
Now, darkness coming on, and rain falling, the Friar
stopped at a lonely house, where he neither knew the
people nor was known to them, and begged for a night's
lodging. The master of the place was a well-to-do person,
but a great knave, and no sooner had he perceived that
the monk had such a plentiful stock of provisions, than
he saw his way to give all his neighbours a splendid
feast at no expense to himself, at which he could not fail
to relieve some of his guests of their money.
Now this rogue had a daughter who was scaltra e bene
affilata-shrewd and sharp as a razor, one who could
teach cats to see in the dark, and who had grown to
villainy from her babyhood, even as a reed shoots up
1 Zoccoloni or Zoccolanli, sandalled friars of the lowest order, who are
indeed common beggars.
27 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
wards. And she only caught a wink from her good father,
which glanced off on to the load of the friar's donkey,
to understand the whole game, and what was expected
of her.
You must know, Signore Carlo, that the wench was
very good-looking-bad wine in a silver cup, pretty to
look at, but vile to sup-and had all the sweet, innocent,
simple look of a saint, and she made up to Frate Giocondo
like a kitten to a child, which he took in no wise amiss,
being used to such conquests. And who so flattering
and fawning as they all were on Brother Giocondo; how
they laughed at his jests, and seemed to be in the last
agonies of delight; but winked at one another withal,
for there were six lusty brothers or cousins in the family,
who, in case of need, did the heavy dragging out, or
advanced the last argument with clubs.
By-and-by, as the night wore on, the black-eyed
baggage stole away and hid herself in the room allotted
to the Friar, though with no intention to break the
seventh-but that against stealing-as you will see.  For
when the good Giocondo went to bed, which he did in
full dress, he knew not that she was there. And as soon
as he began to snore, she tapped gently on the wall
three times, and then went and laid herself down softly
by the Friar, who did not awake. At which all the band
came bursting in with torches and staves, and began to
beat the victim, reviling and cursing him for having deluded the poor child, so that there was a fearfulfracassoa great riot-but they left the door open, through which
the pious Giocondo bolted, and none pursued, as they
had already secured his provisions.
Now Giocondo shrewdly noted this, and at once understood that he had been as shrewdly robbed, and that by
such a trick as left no door open to return and claim his
property. So he quietly mounted his ass and rode away,
and returning to the convent, thought it all over, till he
28 
FRA TE GIOCONDO
came to a device to revenge himself.  For he was one of
those who was never bit by a wolf but what he had his skin.
So he let a long time pass by, and then went to work.
First of all he got two jars, and paid a contadino to catch
for him as many living vipers as would fill them both,
saying it was for the apothecary of his convent to make
teriaca or Venetian treacle, which is a cure for serpents'
bites. And then he disguised himself like a lord's messenger, darkening his face, and putting on long curling
locks, with a bold impudent air, with cloak and feather,
sword and dagger; truly no one would ever have known
him. And in this guise he went again to the Albergo de'
Ladri, or Thieves' Den, asking once more for lodging,
which was cheerfully granted.
Now the part which he played, and that to perfection,
was that of a foolish gasconading servant; nor had he
been long in the house ere he informed his host in confidence that he served a great lord who was in love with
a married lady in Florence, and to win her good graces
had sent her two jars full of honey or conserves, but that
there was in each a hundred crowns in gold, of which he
was to privately inform the lady, lest her husband should
suspect the truth; adding artfully, "But i' faith, if I were
to steal the whole myself and run away, my lord would
never pursue me, so fearful is he lest the thing should be
found out; and even if I were to be robbed, one could
do nothing."
And as he said this he saw the knave give a wink to
his daughter, and knew very well what it meant, but pretended to take no notice of it. So all went as before, and
the girl stole into his room and hid herself.  But he,
who was prepared for everything, when he retired took
from his pocket two or three large screws and a screwdriver, and closed the great strong door so that it would
resist a hard assault, and left the window open so that he
could easily escape, and so went to bed.
29 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
Then the girl, when she thought he was asleep, gave
the signal, and the thieves tried to burst in, but could
not. And Friar Giocondo, jumping up, gave the girl such
a beating as she had never heard of, abusing her all the
time as a song to the accompaniment of the thrashing,
till at last, when he saw they were really coming in, he
jumped through the window, ran to the stable, and finding there a fine horse, saddled it in haste and rode away
like the wind.
The thieves were so intent on the jars that they paid
no heed to anything else, not even to the girl, who was
raging mad at her father for having exposed her to such
danger. So they got two deep plates, and opened both
jars at once to pour the honey out, when lo! there came
swarming forth the vipers, hissing, and squirming, and
darting out their tongues like so many devils. At which
sight they all fled in fear, the girl first, nor did she stop
till she got to Fiesole, where, in great terror, she (fearing
for her soul) told the whole story to everybody and the
monks.
The thief went to the stable, but found his horse gone,
and so had to content himself with Giocondo's donkey,
on which, fearing the pursuit of justice, he rode away, to
be hanged somewhere else. And the Abbot of Santa
Maria Novella cheerfully absolved Brother Giocondo for
stealing the horse-and accepted it as a graceful gift,
or in recompense for the load of provisions which had
been lost.
"Thus'twas with all of them it sped,
And the Abbot came out one horse ahead!"
30 
THE LEGEND OF THE CROCE AL TREBBIO
"The bell in the Bargello called the Montanara obtained the name of
the Camtpanza delle Armae because it was the signal for citizens to lay aside
their weapons and retire home."-Hare's "Cities of Central Italy."
"Where towers are crushed, and temples fair unfold
A new magnificence that vies with old,
Firm in its pristine majesty hath stood
A votive column."- Wordsworth, " Pillar of 7'7ajan."
VERY near to the Church of Santa Maria Novella is the
small piazza or open place of the Croce al Trebbio. This
is a column with a crucifix, the whole being of beautiful
proportions and of a strikingly romantic character. It is
said to have been raised to commemorate a victory of
"that sanguinary fanatic Saint Peter Martyr" over the
Paterini. "The Croce al Trebbio," says Leader Scott,
"of the year I244, is a work of the Pisan school, but
whether it is by Niccolo or Giovanni Pisani, who were
in Florence about that epoch, there is nothing to show.
There was 1 a curious Latin inscription in Gothic letters,
which began: Sanctus A mbrosius curn Salcto Zenobio
ropi-oter grande mnysteriuin hanc c-ucem-and went on to
say that it was reconstructed by the bishops of Florence
and of Aquileia in August I308. It is evident that the
connection of the cross with Saint Peter Martyr is mere
conjecture, the Italian authorities say che si crede,'believed' to be erected on the spot where a victory was
gained over the Paterini. If this were so, where is the
mystery referred to in the inscription?"
The legend, which was after long inquiry recovered by
my collector, distinctly describes the reconstruction of the
1 The partial inscription referred to is still on the column.
31 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
cross, and as certainly sets forth a  yn)'sterium magnum
with an apparition of the Virgin on this very spot, which
would have assuredly caused a pillar, if not a church, to
be erected in the thirteenth century. The story of this
mystery is as follows:
LA CROCE AL TREBBIO.
"Where the Croce at Trebbio now stands, was in very old
times a great palace occupied by one of the most ancient
families of Florence. And when it died out, there came into
the house three families, but none could remain there, being
so terrified with fearful sounds and an apparition.
"It was the custom in those days in Florence to ring a
bell at ten o'clock at night, which was a signal for every citizen
to go home at once; therefore, after that hour no one was seen
in the streets except police guards, military patrols, and riotous
young men, whom the former aimed at arresting. It often
happened that such irregular folk took refuge in the old
palazzo, but if they remained there one night, they had enough
of it, and never returned, so great was the horror which they
were sure to feel.
"The first occurrence which gave the place a bad name was
as follows: Some time after the death of the last of the old line
of Signori who had occupied the palace, and the three families
spoken of had come into it, on the first night at midnight
they heard some one put a key in the house-door, open the
same with great noise, and come storming and swearing up
the stairs into the great dining-hall. Then there entered a tall
and magnificently dressed gentleman, of very handsome and
distinguished appearance, but his face was deadly pale, his eyes
had a terrible gleam, and it seemed as if a light bluish flame
flickered and crept about him, ever rising and vanishing like
small serpents.
"And entering, he began to scold and blaspheme in a
diabolical manner, as if at servants whom he was accustomed
to have promptly at his call, saying,'Birbanti di servitori-you
scoundrelly waiters-you have not got supper ready for me,
nor laid the tables.' Saying this, he seized on plates and
glasses, and dashing them down violently, broke them in mad
rage. Then he entered the best bedroom in the house, where
some one lay asleep, and this man he maltreated and hurled
forth, saying that the bed was his own.
32 
THE LEGEND OF THE CROCE AL TREBBIO 33
"And if after that any one dared to sleep in the old palazzo,
he was found there dead in the morning, or else lived but a
few days. So it came to pass that no one would inhabit it;
nay, all the houses round about began to be deserted, and the
whole neighbourhood regarded it as a pest. And from all
this they were relieved by a marvellously strange occurrence
and a great miracle.
"There was a gentleman who was very pious, honourable,
and brave, a good man at every point, but wretchedly poor,
so that he with his eight children and wife had all been turned
into the street, because he could not pay his rent.
"Then in his distress he went to the city council and begged
for some kind of relief or employment; and they being much
concerned at the time about the haunted palazzo, knowing him
to be a man who would face the devil, with little to fear on
account of his integrity, proposed to him to occupy the building, adding that he and his family should every day be supplied
with food and wine gratis, and that if, as was generally supposed,
there was hidden treasure in the palace, and he could find it,
he should be welcome to keep it.
"To which this brave man willingly assented, and at once
went his way to the haunted palace. But while on the road
he obtained olive sprigs, salt, and frankincense, also certain
images of saints, and then with much holy water sprinkled all
the rooms, stairs, and cellars, praying withaL1.
"And the first night there was again heard the grating of
the key in the lock, the crash of the door, the rapid heavy
footfall, and the spirit appeared with the waving plume of flame
on his splendid beretta or cap, when suddenly he was checked
and could go no farther, because the hall had been blessed,
yes, and thoroughly. Then the spectre began to bellow and
roar, and utter whistling screams and all horrible sounds, worse
than a wild beast.
" But the new master of the house did not let fear overcome
him in the least, and the next day he renewed the sprinkling
and blessing, and finding there was a chapel in the palace, he
called in a priest, who there read a mass for the soul of the
ghost, so that he might rest in peace.
"Now there was a beautiful little garden attached to the
1 This is strikingly like the ceremony for the same purpose used by the
ancient Romans, the object in both being to frighten away evil spirits.
Jide "Etruscan Roman Remains," by C. G. Leland, p. 305.
C 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
palace, and the children of the new tenant were delighted to
play in it.
"And in the middle of the garden they found a cross with
a Christ on it, and the cross had been shattered. But the
children took the pieces and carried them one by one into
the chamber where no one dared to sleep, and there they put
them piously together, and dressed a little altar before it, and
began to sing hymns.
"But while they were thus singing in their simple devotion,
wishing to aid their father, there was a knock at the door, and
a lady entered whose face was concealed in a veil, but who
seemed to be weeping as she beheld them, and she said,
'Children, keep ever as you are; always be good and love God,
and He will love you!'
"Then she continued,'The master of this house was a
gambler and a blasphemer; when he lost money at gambling
he would return home and beat this image of Christ, till one
night, being in a mad rage, he broke it and threw it into the
garden.'
"'But soon after that he fell ill, and knowing that he was
dying, he buried all his treasure in the garden. Love God,
and you shall find it. So he died, blaspheming and condemned.   Love God, and He will love you!'  And saying
this, she vanished.
"The children, all astonished, ran to their father and
mother, and told them that a beautiful lady had visited them,
and what she had said.
"Then they said to the children,'You must indeed be
always good, for that Lady who spoke to you was the Holy
Virgin, who will always protect you.' And then the father
called in a priest to say midnight mass at the time when the
spirit would appear. And he came, and said,' I am he who
broke the cross, and for that I was damned!' Then the
priest began to sprinkle holy water, with exorcisms, when all
at once the accursed one disappeared in a tremendous, overwhelming crash of thunder, and the whole palace fell to gravel
and dust —there was not left one stone standing on the other,
save the cross which the children had repaired, which rose alone
in the middle of the garden.
"Then the next day the good man dug away the rubbish by
the cross, and when this was removed, they found a mass of
charcoal, and under this the treasure.
"Then the Signore, grown rich, had, to commemorate this,
34 
THE LEGEND OF THE CROCE AL TREBBIO 35
a beautiful column built, on which he placed the cross, and
this is known to this day as the Croce al Trebbio, or the
Crucifix of the Cross-roads."
If the Croce al Trebbio really commemorates one of the
most iniquitous massacres which ever disgraced even the
Church, then to find this tender and graceful little tale
springing up from it, reminds me of what I once heard
of a violet which was found growing in the Far West,
and blooming in an Indian's skull. The conception of
the children playing at worshipping, and yet half-worshipping, is very Italian.   I have seen little boys and
girls thus rig up a small chapel in the streets of Rome,
and go through the mass and other ceremonies with intense interest.
It may also be observed that in this, as in many other
legends, charcoal is found over a hidden treasure. The
folk-lore of coal in connection with money is so extensive
and varied, that one could write on it a small book. I
believe that the two are synonyms in all canting jargons
or  slanguages."
"Hence probably came," remarks Flaxius, "the saying,
'To haul one over the coals,' meaning to go over moneyaccounts with any one who has cause to dread the ordeal.
Truly'tis but a conjecture, yet I remember that in my youth
it was generally applied to such investigations.
"'And so'twas held in early Christian time
That glowing coals were a sure test of truth
And holy innocence, as was full proved
By Santa Agnatesis of the Franks,
And fair l,upita of the Irish isle.'"
Since writing the foregoing I have found the whole ot
the ancient inscription of the cross, as it was preserved
by two chroniclers.   This will be found in another
chapter. 
THE TWO FAIRIES OF THE WELL
A LEGEND OF THE VIA CALZAIOLI
"When looking down into a well,
You'll see a fairy, so they tell,
Although she constantly appears
With your own face instead of hers;
And if you cry aloud, you'll hear
Her voice in the ringing echo clear;
Thus every one unto himself
May be a fairy, or an elf"
"And truly those nymphs and fairies who inhabit wells, or are found in
springs and fountains, can predict or know what is to take place, as may
be read in Pausanias, and this power they derive from their habitat,
or, as Creuzer declares (Symzbolik, part iv. 72), they are called Muses, inasmuch as they dwell in Hippocrene and Aganippe, the inspiring springs
of the Muses."-On the Alysteries of Wit/er.  FRIEDRICH (Symbolik).
LONG after Christianity had come in, there were many
places in the vast edifice of society whence the old heathen
deities refused to go out, and there are even yet nooks
and corners in the mountains where they receive a kind
of sorcerer's worship asfolletti. A trace of this lingering
in a faith outworn, in nymphs, dryads, and fata, is found
in the following story:
LE DuE NINFE DEL Pozzo.
"There once lived in Florence a young nobleman, who had
grown up putting great faith in fate, ninjfe, and similar spirits,
believing that they were friendly, and brought good fortune
to those who showed them respect. Now there was in his
palazzo in the Via Calzaioli, at the corner of the Condotta, a
very old well or fountain, on which were ancient and worn
images, and in which there was a marvellous echo, and it was
said that two nymphs had their home in it. And the Signore,
36 
THE TWO FAIRIES OF THE WELL
believing in them, often cast into the spring wine or flowers,
uttering a prayer to them, and at table he would always cast
a little wine into water, or sprinkle water on the ground to do
them honour.
"One day he had with him at table two friends, who
ridiculed him when he did this, and still more when he sang
a song praising nymphs and fairies, in answer to their remarks.
Whereupon one said to him:
"'Truly, I would like to see
An example, if't may be,
How a fairy in a fountain,
Or a goblin of the mountain,
Or a nymph of stream or wood,
Ever did one any good;
For such fays of air or river,
One might wait, I ween, for ever,
And if even such things be,
They are devils all to me.'
"Then the young Signore, being somewhat angered, replied:
"' In the wood and by the stream,
Not in reverie or dream,
Where the ancient oak-trees blow,
And the murmuring torrents flow,
Men whose wisdom none condemn
Oft have met and talked with them.
Demons for you they may be,
But are angels unto me.'
"To which his friend sang in reply, laughing:
"'Only prove that they exist,
And we will no more resist;
Let them come before we go,
With ha! ha! ha! and ho! ho! ho!'
" And as they sang this, they heard a peal of silvery laughter
without, or, as it seemed, actually singing in the hall and
making a chorus with their voices.   And at the instant a
servant came and said that two very beautiful ladies were
without, who begged the young Signore to come to them
immediately, and that it was on a matter of life and death.
"So he rose and stepped outside, but he had hardly crossed
the threshold before the stone ceiling of the hall fell in with a
tremendous crash, and just where the young Signore had sat
was a great stone weighing many quintale or hundredweights,
so that it was plain that if he had not been called away, in
37 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
an instant more he would have been crushed like a fly under a
hammer. As for his two friends, they had broken arms and
cut faces, bearing marks in memory of the day to the end of
their lives.
"When the young Signore was without the door and looked
for the ladies, they were gone, and a little boy, who was the
only person present, declared that he had seen them, that
they were wonderfully beautiful, and that, merrily laughing,
they had jumped or gone down into the well.
"Therefore it was generally believed by all who heard the
tale that it was the Fairies of the WVell, or Fonte, who thus
saved the life of the young Signore, who from that day
honoured them more devoutly than ever; nor did his friends
any longer doubt that there are spirits of air or earth, who,
when treated with pious reverence, can confer benefits on
their worshippers.
"'For there are fairies all around
Everywhere, and elves abound
Even in our homes unseen:
They go wherever we have been,
And often by the fireside sit,
A-laughing gaily at our wit;
And when the ringing echo falls
Back from the ceiling or the walls,
'Tis not our voices to us thrown
In a reflection, but their own;
For they are near at every turn,
As he who watches soon may learn.'
"And the young Signore, to do honour to the fairies,
because they had saved his life, put them one on either side
of his coat-of-arms, as you may see by the shield which is
on the house at the corner of the Via Calzaioli."
The authenticity of this legend, is more than doubtful,
because it exists elsewhere, as I have read it, being
unable to give my authority; but unless my memory
deceives me, it goes back to classic times, and may be
found in some such work as that of Philostratus de Vita
Apollonii or Grosius.  Neither am  I well assured,  to
judge from the source whence I had it, that it is current
among the people, though no great measure of credulity
is here required, since it may be laid down as a rule, with
38 
THE TWO FAIRIES OF THE WELL
rarest exception, that there is no old Roman tale of the
kind which may not be unearthed with pains and patience
among old Tuscan peasant women. However, the shield
is still on the corner of the Via Calzaioli, albeit one of
the nymphs on it has been knocked or worn away. Thus
evenfates must yield in time to fate.
I have in a note to another legend spoken of the instinct
which seems to lead children or grown people to associate wells with indwelling fairies, to hear a voice in the
echo, and see a face in the reflection in the still water.
Keats has beautifully expressed it in " Endymion ":
"Some mouldered steps lead into this cool cell
Far as the slabbed margin of a well,
Whose patient level peeps its crystal eye
Right upward through the bushes to the sky....
Upon a day when thus I watched... behold!
A wonder fair as any I have told The same bright face I tasted in my sleep
Smiling in the clear well. My heart did leap
Through the cool depth....
Or'tis the cell of Echo, where she sits
And babbles thorough silence till her wits
Are gone in tender madness, and anon
Faints into sleep, with many a dying tone."
"In which tale," writes the immortal Flaxius, "there is a
pretty allegory. Few there are who know why truth is said to
be at the bottom of a well; but this I can indeed declare to
you. For as a mirror was above all things an emblem of
truth, because it shows all things exactly as they are, so the
water in a well was, as many traditions prove, considered as a
mirror, because looking into it we see our face, which we of
course most commonly see in a glass, and this disk of shining
water resembles in every way a hand-mirror. And for this
reason a mirror was also regarded as expressing life itself,
for which reason people so greatly fear to break them. So in
the Latin, Velut in speculo, and in the Italian, Vero come un
specchio-' True as a mirror,' we have the same idea. And a
poet has written,'Mirrored as in a well,' and many have reechoed the same pretty fancy.
"Wh.ch reminds me that in the Oberpfalz or Upper Palatinate maidens were wont to go to a well by moonlight, and if
on looking therein they saw their own faces, they believed
39 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
that they would soon be happily married. But if a cloud
darkened the moon and they saw nothing, then they would
die old maids. But luckiest of all was it if they fancied they
saw a man's face, for this would be the future husband
himself.
"Now it befell that a certain youth near Heidelberg fell
into a well, or put himself there, when a certain maid whom
he loved, came and looked in, and believing that she saw the
face of her destined spouse, went away in full faith that the
fairy of the well had taken his form, and so she married him.
Which, if it be not true, is ben trovato.
"Truth is always represented, be it remembered, as holding
a mirror.
"And note also that the hand-mirror and the well were
strangely connected in ancient times, as appears by Pausanias,
who states that before a certain temple of Ceres hung a
speculum, which, after it had been immersed in a neighbouring
well or spring, showed invalids by reflection whether they
would live or die. And with all this, the holding a mirror to
the mouth of an insensible person to tell whether the breath
was still in the body, seemed also to make it an indicator
of life."
"Thus in life all things do pass,
As it were, in magic glass."
40 
THE STORY OF THE VIA DELLE SERVE
SMARRITE
W Ve all do know the usual way
In which our handmaids go astray,
But in this tale the situation
Has a peculiar variation;
How an old wizard-strange occurrence!
Deluded all the girls in Florence,
(It needs no magic now to do it),
And how the maidens made him rue it,
For having seized on him and stripped him,
They tied him up and soundly whipped him."
THE author of "The Cities of Central Italy," speaking of
Siena, says that "In its heart, where its different hillpromontories unite, is the Piazza del Campo, latelywith the time-serving which disgraces every town in
Italy-called Vittorio Emaniiele." And with the stupidity
and bad taste which seems to characterise all municipal
governments in this respect all the world over, that of
Florence has changed most of the old names of this kind,
and in order to render the confusion more complete, has
put the new names just over the old ones, with the simple
addition of the word Gia or "formerly." Whence came
the legend current in the Anglo-American colony, that a
newly arrived young lady, not as yet beyond the second
lesson in Ollendorff, being asked where she lived, answered in Gia Street. She forgot the rest of the name.
One of these gaping gias is the Via del Parlascio gia
Via delle Serve Smarrite, or the street of the maidservants strayed away or gone astray. Now Florence is
famous for its pretty servant-girls, and if I may believe
a halfpenny work, entitled "Seven Charming Florentine
41 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
Domestics," now before me, which is racy of the soil-or
dirt-and appears to be written from life [as accurate
portraits of all the fascinating seven are given], I opine
that the damsel of this class who had never been, I
do not say a wife, but a waif and a stray, must be a
phenomenal rarity. Therefore it was suggested to me
that it was formerly in very ancient times the custom to
send all such stray cattle to the pound, that is, to dwell in
this street as a kind of Ghetto. But the folly of this
measure soon became apparent when it was found that
one might as well try to get all the cats in Tuscany
into a hand-basket, or all its flies-or fleas-under one
tumbler, as try to make a comprehensive menagerie of
these valuable animals, who were, however, by no means
curiosities. So the attempt was abandoned, and thenceforth the maidens were allowed to stray wherever they
pleased, but under some slight supervision; whence it was
said of them that they were le lucertole chi cominciano a
sentir il sole-" fireflies which begin to see the sun "a proverb which the learned and genial Orlando Peschetti
(I618) explains as being applicable to those who, having
been in prison and then set free, are still watched, but
which appears to me rather to refer to the suspected who
are "shadowed" before they are arrested.
But in due time I received from good authority an
ancient legend of the Via delle Serve Smarrite, in which
the origin of the name is explained as follows:
VIA DELLE SERVE SMARRITE.
"There was long ago, in what was afterwards called the Via
delle Serve Smarrite, or Stray Maid-Servants' Street, a very
ancient and immensely large house, which was generally supposed to be vacant, and in which no one cared to dwell, or
even approach, since there were dreadful tales of evil deeds
done in it, and reports that it was a gathering-place for witches,
goblins, and diavoli. The clanking of chains and peals of
horrid laughter rung from its chambers at midnight, blue and
42 
THE VIA DELLE SERVE SMARRITE
green fires gleamed from its windows, and everybody all
around had heard from somebody else that the nightmares
had there their special nest, from which they sailed forth to
afflict all Florence.
"Yet all this was a trick which was often played in those
days, when gente non dabbene or evil folk and outlaws wanted
to keep a house to themselves, and there were no newspapers
to publish every mystery. For there were a great many who
went in there, but few who ever came out, and these were all
young and pretty servant-maids. And the way it was managed
was this. When such girls were sent to the market to buy
provisions, they always met there or elsewhere an old woman
who pretended to be extremely pious,' who, by using many
arts and making small gifts, and above all by subtle flatteries,
persuaded them that service was only fit for gentaccia or the
dregs of the people, and that, beautiful and graceful as they
were, they needed only live like ladies for a little time at ease,
and they would soon be fit to marry some Signore, and that
she herself would thus maintain them, hoping they would
pay her well for it all when once married. And I need not
say that the trick generally succeeded.
"The house to which they were led was ugly and repulsive
outside, but within there were beautiful rooms of all kinds,
magnificently furnished, and the new-comers were promptly
bathed, elegantly attired, and jewelled from head to foot, and
instead of serving, had maids given them as attendants, and
everything conceivable was done to make their life as pleasant
and demoralising among themselves as possible. But in due
time they found out that a certain Signore was lord of the
house and of themselves, and that he gradually led them into
the strangest and most terrible orgies, and finally into witchcraft, after which one disappeared mysteriously after the other,
none knew whither, but as there were always fresh arrivals to
take their places, nobody heeded it.
"However, this mournful disappearance of pretty servantmaids became at last so frequent and was so mysterious, that
it began to be much talked about. Now there was a certain
gentleman, a man himself of great authority and intelligence,
who had heard of these vanishments and hoped to find out
their cause. And one night at a very late hour, when he was
passing by the mysterious house, he heard from it now and
1 Una vecchietta, tutta Gesu e Maria.
43 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
then sounds like groans mingled with the clanking of chains,
and saw red and blue and green lights at the windows, but
by keeping still he also distinguished the sound of music and
girls' voices laughing and singing; and stealing near in the
darkness, and fearing no devils, he contrived to climb up to a
window, and pulling aside a curtain, peeped in, when he beheld
plainly enough a great many beautiful women in scant array,
or a real dance of witches, and being marvellously attracted
by the sight of so many charms so liberally displayed, he
naturally desired to enter the gay party.
"And here chance favoured him beyond all hope; for on
going to the door, he found an old woman about to enter, to
whom he gave a gold piece, and begged her to tell him the
true story of the house, and whether he could enter it. But
what was his amazement to find in her his old foster-mother of
the country, whom he had not seen for many years, and who
loved him dearly.
"And she, being pressed, told him the whole story of the
house, wherein she was a servant, but that she had grown
deadly tired of such evil ways, and seeing such sin as went on
there, though she was well paid, and said if he would only give
her a home, she would reveal all to justice. And she added
that for the present he could freely join the girls who were
dancing, as the wizard, their master, was away that night.
"But when he entered, he was amazed at the splendour of
the rooms and the beauty of the women. Now among these
he found one who truly enchanted him, and entering into conversation with her, found that she would gladly escape with
him, and that many others were inclined to leave, but dare not
show it for fear of the master.
"Then the Signore, addressing all the girls, told them that in
a few hours the guards or police would, by his orders, be in the
house, and advised them to at once seize on all the valuables
on which they could lay their hands, and pack up their bundles
and depart, and that he himself would write for every one a
free pass to let her go with the property. And truly he had
hardly spoken ere there began such a plundering and pillaging,
sacking and spoliation, as it would have done your heart good
to see, and which was like the taking of a rich town, only that
the marauders were all maidens. Here was one rolling up
silver spoons, cups, anything she could get, in a shawl; there
another filling a bag with jewellery, and a silver ladle sticking
out of her bosom or back; anon a couple of Venuses fighting
44 
THE VIA DELLE SERVE SMARRITE
for a splendid garment, while a superb Hebe ravished a golden
goblet, and an enchanting Vesta, if not a vestal, appropriated
most appropriately a silver lamp. Some pulled down the
curtains, others rolled up the costly Venetian rugs; they drank
wine when they were thirsty, and quarrelled and laughed and
shrieked, as a parcel of wild servant-girls in a mad frolic might
be expected to do. It was a fine sight-' one worthy of a great
artist or De Goncourt,' notes Flaxius.
"When lo! all at once there was an awful and simultaneous
shriek as the door opened, and the Donzine-I mean the headmaster, wizard, or sultan-entered, gazing like an astonished
demon on the scene before his eyes. In a voice of thunder
he asked the meaning of the scene, when he found himself
confronted by the intruding Signore, before whom his heart
run away like water when he recognised in him a man having
very great authority, with the police at his back.
"Now, servant-maids, however pretty they may be, are
mostly contadine with powerful muscles and mighty arms, and
with one accord they rushed on their late master, and soon
overpowered him. Then he was securely bound with silken
curtain ropes, and the new Signore, taking his place at a great
table, bade all the damsels range themselves at the sides in
solemn council, for the offender was now to be tried, condemned, and punished too, should he be found guilty.
' The trial was indeed one of peculiar interest, and the
testimony adduced would have made the fortune of a French
novelist, but space (if nothing else) prohibits my giving it.
Suffice it to say that the wizard was found guilty of taking unto
himself an undue share of pretty hand-maidens, a great sin
considering the number of gallant soldiers and other bachelors
who were thereby defrauded of their dues. But as he had
neither murdered nor stolen, it was decided to let him go and
carry on his games in some less Christian town, on condition
that he would divide what money he had in the house among
the poor girls whom he had so cruelly cajoled.
"And as this last sentence was plaintively pronounced, there
was a deep and beautiful sigh uttered by all the victims, followed by three cheers. The master's strong-box was at once
hunted up, and its contents shared, and indeed they were so
considerable that the maidens one and all soon married nobly
and lived happily."
The written story, with a pleasing instinct of Italian
45 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
thrift, adds that the conquering Signore purchased the
property, in fact, the whole street, at a very low figure,
before the facts became known, and gave the place the
name of the Via delle Serve Smarrite, as it is still called
by the people, despite its new official christening.
" Ye may break, ye may ruin the flask if ye will,
But the scent of the brandy will hang round it still."
46 
THE BRONZE BOAR OF THE AMERCATO
NUOVO
" Now among the Greeks, as with the Northern races, the boar was the
special type of male generation, even as the frog expressed that of the
female sex. And therefore images of the boar were set in public places
that fertility might he developed among women, for which reason they also
wear, as among the Arabs, necklaces of silver frogs."-Notes ont Symtbolistm.
IN front of the Mercato Nuovo, built by Cosimo I., stands
a bronze copy of an ancient boar, now iii the Uffizzi
Gallery. It was cast by Pietro Tacca, and is now a
fountain. The popular legend in relation to it is as
follows:
"In the market-place of Florence, which is called Ji Porcelilito, because there is in it a fountain with a swine, there
was anciently only a spring of water and a pool, in which were
many frogs, water-lizards, shell-snails, and slugs. These were
round about, but in the spring itself was a frog who was confined there because she had revealed that her lover was a
boar.
"This boar was the son of a rich lord, who, being married
for a very long time, had no children, and for this reason made
his wife very unhappy, saying that she was a useless creature,
and that if she could not bear a son she had better pack up
and be off with herself, which she endured despairingly and
weeping continually, praying to the saints and giving alms
withal, all to bring forth an heir, and all in vain.
"One day she saw a drove of pigs go by her palace, and
among them were many sows and many more very little pigs.
Now among these, or at hand, was afata or witch-spirit.1 And
the lady seeing this said in the bitterness of her heart,'So
the very pigs have offspring and I none. I would I were as
I I have elsewhere explained that the fata in these traditions is a witch
or sorcerer become a spirit.
47 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
they are, and could do as they do, and bring forth as they
bring forth, and so escape all this suffering!'
"And the fairy heard this, and took her at her word; and,
as you will see, she cut her cloth without measuring it first,
from which came a sad misfit. And soon after she was ill,
and this being told to her husband, he replied,'Good news,
and may she soon be gone!' but he changed his tone when he
heard that he was to have an heir. Then he flew to her and
begged her pardon, and made great rejoicings.
"Truly there was horror and sorrow when in due time the
lady, instead of a human child, brought forth a boar-pig. Yet
the parents were so possessed with the joy of having any kind
of offspring that they ended by making a great pet of the creature, who was, however, human in his ways, and could in time
talk with grace and ease.1 And when he grew older he began
to run after the girls, and they to run away from him, screaming
as if the devil had sent him for them.
"There lived near the palace a beautiful but very poor girl,
and with her the young Boar fell desperately in love. So he
asked her parents for her hand; but they, poor as they were,
laughed at him, saying that their daughter should never marry
a swine. But the young lady had well perceived that this was
no common or lazy pig, such as never gets a ripe pear-.porco
pigro non mangia pere mature-as he had shown by wooing
her; and, secondly, because she was poor and ambitious, and
daring enough to do anything to become rich and great.2
"Now she surmised that there were eggs under the chopped
straw in this basket, or more in the youth than people supposed; and she was quite right, for on the bridal night he not
only unclothed himself of silk and purple and fine linen, but
also doffed his very skin or boar's hide, and appeared as beautiful as a Saint Sebastian freshly painted.
"Then he said to her,'Be not astonished to find me goodlooking at the rate of thirty sous to a franc, nor deem thyself
over-paid, for if we had not wedded, truly I should have gone
on pigging it to the end of my days, having been doomedlike many men-to be a beast so long as I was a bachelor, or
1 It may be conjectured from this context that the child was partly
human in form, perhaps like the Pig-faced Lady, or not more swinish than
WNilliam of Ardennes in face.
2 Truly she was, to use a really ancient phrase, "ready to go the whole
hog." It is said that Mahomet told his disciples that there was one part
of a pig which they must not touch; but as he did not specify what it was,
they among them devoured the entire animal.
48 
THE BRONZE BOAR OF THE MERCATO NUOVO 49
till a beautiful maid would marry me. Yet there is a condition attached to this, which is, that I can only be a man as
thou seest me by night, for I must be a boar by day.  And
shouldst thou ever betray this secret to any one, or if it be
found out, then I shall again be a boar all the time for life,
and thou turn into a frog because of too much talking.
"Now as surely as that time and straw ripen medlars, as
the saying is, just so surely will it come to pass that a
woman will tell a secret, even to her own shame. And so it
befell this lady, who told it as a great mystery to her mother,
who at once imparted it under oath to all her dear friends,
who swore all their friends on all their salvations not to breathe
a word of it to anybody, who all confessed it to the priests.
How much farther it went God knows, but by the time the
whole town knew it, which was in one day of twenty-four
hours, or ere the next morning, the bride had become a frog
who lived in the spring, and the bridegroom a boar who
every day went to drink at the water, and when there said:
"'Lady Frog! lo, I am here!
He to whom thou once wert dear.
We are in this sad condition,
Not by avarice or ambition,
Nor by evil or by wrong,
But'cause thou could'st not hold thy tongue;
For be she shallow, be she deep,
No woman can a secret keep;
Which all should think upon who see
The monument which here will be.'
"So it came to pass either that the boar turned into the
great bronze maaiale which now stands in the market-place, or
else the people raised it in remembrance of the story-chi sabut there it is to this day.
"As for the Signora Frog, she comforted herself by making a
great noise and telling the tale at the top of her voice, having
her brains in her tongue-il cervello nella lingua, as they say
of those who talk well yet have but small sense. And that
which you hear frogs croaking all night long is nothing but
this story which I have told you of their ancestress and the
bronze boar."
This is, in one form or the other, a widely spread tale.
As the voice of the frog has a strange resemblance to
that of man, there being legends referring to it in every
D 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
language, and as there is a bold and forward expression
in its eyes,' it was anciently regarded as a human being
who was metamorphosed for being too impudent and
loquacious, as appears by the legend of " Latona and the
Lycian Boors" (Ovid, Metamnorph., vi. 340).  The general
resemblance of the form of a frog to that of man greatly
contributed to create such fables.
The classic ancient original of this boar may be seen
in the Uffizzi Gallery. As the small image of a pig carried
by ladies ensures that they will soon be, as the Germans
say, "in blessed circumstances," or enceinte (which was
all one with luck in old times), so the image of the boar
is supposed to be favourable to those ladies who desire
olive branches. From all which it appears that in ancient
times swine were more highly honoured than at present,
or, as Shelley sings:
"We pigs
Were blest as nightingales on myrtle sprigs,
Or grasshoppers that live on noon-day dew."
1,, Symbola Heroica," Antwerp, I 583.
5o 
THE FAIRY OF THE CAMPANILE, OR THE
TOWER OF GIOTTO
"Bella di fronte e infino alle Calcagna,
Con un corredo nobile e civile,
In te risiede una cupola magna
E superbo di Giotto il Campanile."-Giuseppe Moroni
" Round as the 0 of Giotto, d'ye see?
Which means as well done as a thing can be."-Proverb.
MANY have wondered how it came to pass that Virgil
lived in tradition not as a poet but as sorcerer. But the
reason for it is clear when we find that in Florence every
man who ever had a genius for anything owed it to
magic, or specially to the favour of some protecting fairy
orfoiletto, spirit or god. Is a girl musical? Giacinto or
Hyacinth, the favourite of Apollo, has given her music
lessons in her dreams.   For  the orthodox  there are
Catholic saints with a specialty, from venerable Simeon,
who looks after luck in lotteries, to the ever-blessed
Antony, who attends to everything, and Saint Anna, nde
Lucina, who inspires nurses. And where the saints fail,
the folletti, according to the witches, take their place and
do the work far better. Therefore, as I shall in another
place set forth, Dante and Michel Angelo have passed
into the marvellous mythology of goblins. With them is
included Giotto, as appears by the following legend of
"The Goblin of the Bell-Tower of Giotto."
IL FOLLETTO DEL CAMPANILE DI GIOTTO.
" Giotto was a shepherd, and every day when he went forth
to pasture his herd there was one little lamb who always kept
5S 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
near him, and appeared to be longing to talk to him like a
Christian.
"Now this lamb always laid down on a certain stone which
was fast in the ground (masso); and Giotto, who loved the
lamb, to please it, lay down also on the same stone.
"After a short time the lamb died, and when dying said:
"'Giotto, cosa non far ti
Se mi senti parlarti,
Ti voglio tanto bene
E dove andrai,
Io ti seguiro sempre
In forma di folletto,
E col mio volere
Tu verrai un bravo scultore
E insegne disegnatore.'
"'Giotto, be not astonished
That I thus speak to thee;
I have such love for thee,
Wherever thou shalt go
I will follow thee always
In the form of a fairy,
And through my favour
Thou shalt become a great sculptor
And artist.'
"And so it came to pass that Giotto was an able sculptor
by the aid of the lamb, and all that he did was due to the
lamb which helped him.
"And when he died, the spirit of the lamb remained in the
form of a follello or fairy in the campanile, and it is still often
seen there, always with the spirit of Giotto. Even in death
their souls could not be separate.
"When any one desires to ascend the tower, and his or her
heart fails in mounting the steps (e che ha paura di salire), the
fairy below says:
"' Vade, vade, Signora!
La vade su salgha,
Non abbia paura,
Ci sono io sotto.'
"'  Go on, go on, Signora,
Go up the stairs-oh go!
Be not afraid, my lady!
For I am here below.'
"Then  the visitor hearing this believes it is one of the
guides employed (inTiegati), or one of the gentlemen or ladies
52 
THE FAIRY OF THE CAMPANILE
who are ascending after. And often when half-way up there
comes a great puff of wind which blows up their skirts (fa
gonfiare le sottane) which causes great laughter, and they think
that this is only a common thing, and do not perceive that it
does not happen to others.
"And it is said that this fairy appears by night in the Piazza
del Duomo, or Cathedral Square, in different forms."
The reason why Giotto is so popularly known as having
been a shepherd is that on the central tablet of the tower
or campanile, facing the street, there is a bas-relief of a
man seated in a tent with sheep before him, and this is
naturally supposed to represent the builder or Giotto himself, since it fills the most prominent place. In a very
popular halfpenny chapbook, entitled "The Statues under
the Uffizzi in Florence, Octaves improvised by Giuseppe
Moroni, called I1 Niccheri or the Illiterate," I find the
following:
GIOTTO.
"Voi di Mugello, nato dell' interno,
Giotto felice, la da' Vespignano
Prodigiose pitture in ogni esterno
A Brescia, a Roma, Firenze e Milano,
Nelle pietre, ne' marmi nel quaderno,
L'archittetura al popolo italiano.
Da non trovare paragone sinile,
Vi basti, per esempio, il campanile."
"Thou of Mugello, born in Italy,
Happy Giotto, gav'st to Vespignan
Great pictures which on every front we see
At Brescia, Rome, in Florence and Milan,
In stone, in marble, and in poetry,
And architecture, all Italian.
Nothing surpassed thy wondrous art and power,
Take for example, then, our great bell-tower."
The fact that this is taken from a very popular halfpenny work indicates the remarkable familiarity with
such a name as that of Giotto among the people.
53 
THE GOBLIN OF THE TOWER DELLA TRINITA,
OR THE PORTA SAN NICCOLO
"They do not speak as mortals speak,
Nor sing as others sing;
Their words are gleams of starry light,
Their songs the glow of sunset light,
Or meteors on the wing."
I ONCE begun a book-the ending and publishing of it
are in the dim and remote future, and perhaps in the
limbo of all things unfinished.  It was or is "The Experiences of Flaxius the Immortal," a sage who dwells
for ever in the world, chiefly to observe the evolution of
all things absurd, grotesque, quaint, illogical-in short, of
all that is strictly human. And on him I bestowed a
Florentine legend which is perhaps of great antiquity,
since there is a hint in it of an ancient Hebrew work by
Rabbi ben Mozeltoff or the learned Gedauler Chamar-I
forget which-besides being found in poetic form in my
own great work on Confucius.
That money is the life of man, and that treasure buried
in the earth is a sin to its possessor, forms the subject of
one of Christ's parables. The same is true of all talent
unemployed, badly directed, or not developed at all.
The turning-point of evolution and of progressive civilisation will be when public opinion and state interests
require that every man shall employ what talent he has,
and every mere idler be treated as a defaulter or criminal.
From this truly Christian point of view the many tales of
ghosts who walk in agony because of buried gold are
strangely instructive.
S4 
THE GOBLIN OF THE TOWER DELLA TRINITA 55
FLAXIUS AND THE ROSE.
" Midnight was ringing from the cloister of San Miniato in
Florence on the hill above, and Flaxius sat by the Arno down
below, on the bank by the square grey tower of other days,
known as the Niccolob, or Torre della Trinit', because there
are in it three arches....
"It was midnight in mid-winter, and a full moon poured
forth all its light over Florence as if it would fain preserve it
in amber, and over the olive groves as if they had become
moss agates....
["'Or I,' quoth Flaxius,'a fly in hock.']
"Yes, it was a clear, cold, Tuscan night, and as the last
peal of bells went out into eternity and faded in the irrevocable, thousands of spirits of the departed began to appear,
thronging like fireflies through the streets, visiting their ancient
haunts and homes, greeting, gossiping, arranging their affairs
just as the peasants do on Friday in the great place of the
Signoria, as they have done for centuries.
" Flaxius looked at the rolling river which went rushing by
at his feet, and said:
"' Arno mio, you are in a tremendous hurry to get to the sea,
and all the more so because you have just had an accessin-a
remittance of rain from the mountain-banks.    Buon pro vi
faccia-much good may it do you! So every shopman hurries
to become a great merchant when he gets some money, and
every farmer a signore, and every signore a great lord, and
every great lord a ruler at court and over all the land-prorsum
et sursum.  And when they get there-or when you get to the
sea-then ye are all swallowed up in greater lives, interests,
and actions, and so the rivers run for ever on, larger yet ever
seeming less unto yourselves.   And so-ad altiora tendunt
omnes-the flower-edged torrent and the Florentine.'...
"When he suddenly heard above his head a spirit voice,
clear, sweet and strange, ringing, not in words, but tones of
unearthly music-of which languages there are many among
the Unearthlies, all being wordless songs or airs suggesting
speech, and yet conveying ideas far more rapidly. It was the
Goblin of the Tower calling to him of the tower next beyond
on the farther hill, and he said:
"'How many ghosts there are out to-night!'
"'Yes; it is a fine night for ghosting.  Moonlight is mid 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
summer for them, poor souls! But I say, brother, who is
yonder frate, the dark monk-spectre who always haunts your
tower, lingering here and there about it? What is the spell
upon that spirito?'
"' He is one to be pitied,' replied the Goblin of the TrinitY.
'He was a good fellow while hlie lived, but a little too fond of
money. He was afflicted with what doctors called, when I was
young in Rome, the amnor sceleratus habendi. So it came to pass
that he died leaving a treasure-mille aureos-a thousand gold
crowns buried in my tower unknown to any one, and for that
he must walk the earth until some one living wins the money.'
"Flaxius pricked up his ears. He understood all that the
spirits said, but they had no idea that the man in a scholar's
robe who sat below knew Goblinese.
"'What must a mortal do to get the gold?' inquired the
second goblin.
"'Truly he must do what is well-nigh impossible,' replied
the Elf of the Tower;'for he must, without magic aid-note
that-bring to me here in this month of January a fresh fullblown rose.'
The voices were silent; a cloud passed over the face of the
moon; the river rushed and roared on; Flaxius sat in aVandykebrown study, thinking how he could obtain peace and repose
for the ghostly monk, and also get the pecuniam.
"' Here is,' he thought,'aliquid laborare-something to be
worked out. Now is the time, and here is a chance-ingirlandarsi di lauro-to win the laurel wreath. A rose in January!
What a pity that it is not four hundred years later, when
people will have green-houses, and blue-nosed vagabonds will
be selling red roses all the winter long in the Tornabuoni!
Truly it is sometimes inconvenient to be in advance of or
behind the age.
"' Eureka  I have it,' he at last exclaimed,'by the neck
and tail. I will spogliar la tesoria-rob the treasury and spoil
the Egyptian-si non in errore versatus sum-unless I am
stupendously mistaken. Monk! thy weird will soon be dreed
-thy penance prophesied will soon be o'er.'
"Saying this he went into the city. And there the next day,
going to a fair dame of his acquaintance, who excelled all the
ladies of all Italy in ingenious needlework, he had made of
silk a rose; and so deftly was it done, that had it been put on
a bush, you would have sworn that a nightingale would have
sung to it, or bee have sought to ravish it.
56 
THE GOBLIN OF THE TOWER DELLA TRINITA 57
"Then going to a Venetian perfumer's, the wise Flaxius had
his flower well scented with best attar of roses from Constantinople, and when midnight struck he was at the tower once
more calling to the goblin.
"' Che vuoi?  What dost thou seek?' cried the Elf.
"' The treasure of the monk!1'
"' B'ene!  Give me a rose.'
"'Ecco!  There it is,' replied Flaxius, extending it.
"'WVon facit-it won't do,' answered the goblin (thinking
Flaxius to be a monk).'It is a sham rose artificially coloured,
mourice tincta est.'
"' Smell it,' replied Flaxius calmly.
"' The smell is all right, I admit,' answered the guardian of
the gold.'The perfume is delicious;' here he sniffed at it
deeply, being, like all his kind, enraptured with perfume,' and
that much of it is, I grant, the real thing.'
"'Now tell me,' inquired Flaxius,'truly-relgiose testimonium dicere-by thy great ancestress Diana and her sisterdouble Herodias and her Nine Cats, by the Moon and the
eternal Shadow, Endamone, and the word which Bergoia whispered into the ear of the Ox, and the Lamia whom thou
lovest-what is it makes a man?  Is it his soul or his body?'
"' Man of mystery and master of the hidden lore,' replied
the awe-struck goblin,'it is his soul.'
"' And is not the perfume of the rose its soul-that which
breathes its life, in which it speaks to fairies or to men? Is
not the voice in song or sweetened words the perfume of the
spirit, ever true?  Is not 
"'I give it up,' replied the goblin.'The priest may turn in
now for a long, long nap. Here, take his gold, and ne gioire
tulto d'allegrezza-may you have a merry time with it.  There
is a great deal of good drinking in a thousand crowns; and if
you ever try to ludere latrunculis vel aleis, or shake the bones
or dice, I promise you three sixes. By the way, I'll just keep
this rose to remember you by.  A4ddio-a rivederlei I'
"So the bedesman slept amid his ashes cold, and the good
Flaxius, who was a stout carl for the nonce, with a broad back
and a great beard, returned, bearing a mighty sack of ancient
gold, which stood him in good stead for many a day. And
the goblin is still there in the tower."
" ltcfabula docet," wrote Flaxius as he revised the proof
with a red-lead pencil, for which he had paid a penny in the
Calzolaio.  "This tale teaches that in this life there is naught 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
which hath not its ideal side or inner soul, which may raise
us to higher reflection or greater profit, if we will but seek it.
The lower the man the lower he looks, but it is all to his loss
in the end. Now every chapter in this book, O my son-or
daughter-may seem to thee only a rose of silk, yet do not
stop at that, but try to find therein a perfume. For thou art
thyself, I doubt not, such a rose, even if thy threads (as in
most of us) be somewhat worn, torn, or faded, yet with a soul
far better than many deem who see thee only afar off. And
this my book is written for the perfume, not the silk of my
reader. And there is no person who is better than what the
world deems him or her to be who will not find in it marvellous comfort, solace, and satisfaction."
Thus wrote Flaxius.
Since I penned the foregoing from memory, I have
found the Italian text or original, which had been mislaid
for years. In it the tale is succinctly told within the
compass of forty lines, and ends with these words:
"' Take the treasure, and give me the rose!'
"And so the spirit gave him the treasure and took the rose,
and the poor man went home enriched, and the priest to
sleep in peace-fra gli eterni-among the eternals."
I ought, of course, to have given scientifically only the
text word for word, but litera scripta inanet-what is
written remains, and Flaxius is an old friend of mine, and
I greatly desired to introduce him to my readers. And
I doubt not that the reviewers will tell me if I have
sinned!
" Do a good deed, or aughlit that's fit,
You never again may hear of it;
But make a slip, all will detect it,
And every friend at once correct it!"
58 
THE GHOST OF MICHEL ANGELO
"If I believed that spirits ne'er
Return to earth once more,
And that there's naught unto them dear
In the life they loved before;
Then truly it would seem to me,
However fate has sped,
For souls there's no eternity,
And they and all are dead."
IT must have struck every one who has read the life of
Michel Angelo, that he was, like King James the First of
England, " nae great gillravager after the girls," or was
far from being susceptible to love-in which he formed a
great contrast to Raphael, and indeed to most of the Men
of his Time-or any other. This appears to have impressed the people of Italy as something even more
singular than his works, for which reason he appears in
popular tradition as a good enough goblin, not without
cheerfulness and song, but as one given to tormenting
enamoured couples and teasing lady artists, whom he
subsequently compliments with a gift.  The legend is as
follows:
Lo SPIRITO DI MICHELE ANGIOLO BUONAROTTI.
"The spirit of Michel Angelo is seen mostly by night, in
woods or groves. The good man appears as he did in life,
come era prima, ever walking among trees singing poetry. He
amuses himself very much by teasing lovers-a dare noia agli
amorelti-and when he finds a pair who have hidden themselves under leaves and boughs to make love, he waits till
they think they are well concealed, and then begins to sing.
And the two feel a spell upon them when they hear his voice,
and can neither advance nor retreat.
59 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"Then all at once opening the leafy covert, he bursts into a
peal of laughter; and the charm being broken, they fly in fear,
because they think they are discovered, and it is all nothing
but the spirit of Michel Angelo Buonarotti.
"WVhen some lady-artist goes to sketch or paint, be it al
piazzale, in open places, or among the woods, it is his delight
to get behind, and cause her to blunder, scrawl, and daub
(fare de,rgli scarabocchi). And when the artist is angered, she
will hear a loud peal of laughter; and if this irritates her still
more, she will hear a song, and yet not perceive the singer.
And when at last in alarm she catches up her sketch, all
scrawled and spoiled, and takes to flight, she will hear the
song following her, and yet if she turns her head she will see
no one pursuing. The voice and melody are always beautiful.
But it is marvellously lucky to have this happen to an artist,
for when she gets home and looks at her sketch, she finds that
it is neither scrawled nor daubed, but most exquisitely executed
in the style of Michel Angelo."
It is marvellous how the teasing faun or Silvanus of
the Romans has survived in Tuscany. I have found him
in many forms, under many names, and this is the last.
But why it should be Michel Angelo, I cannot imagine,
unless it be that his face and stump nose, so familiar to
the people, are indeed like that of the faun. The dii
s),lvestres, with all their endless mischief, riotry, and
revelry, were good fellows, and the concluding and rather
startling touch that the great artist in the end always
bestows a valuable picture on his victim is really godlike
-in a small way.
It is remarkable as a coincidence, that Michel Angelo
was himself during life terribly annoyed and disturbed by
people prying and speering about him while paintingespecially by Pope Leo-for whom he nevertheless painted
very good pictures. It would almost seem as if there
were an echo of the event in the legend. Legend is the
echo of history.
"This legend," remarks Flaxius, "may give a valuable hint
to collectors. Many people are aware that there are in exist
6o 
THE GHOST OF MICHEL ANGELO
ence great numbers of sketchings and etchings attributed to
Michel Angelo, Diirer, Raphael, Marc Antonio, and many
more, which were certainly executed long since those brothers
of the paint or pencil passed away. May it not be that the
departed still carry on their ancient callings by the aid of new
and marvellous processes to us as yet unknown, or by what
may be called'pneumato-gravure'? WVho knows?-'tis a
great idea, my masters;-let us pass on or legit unto another
legend!
' I Well I ween it may be true
That afar in fairyland
Great artists still pursue
That which in life they knew,
And practise still, with ever bettering hand,
Sculpture and painting, all that charm can bring,
While by them all departed poets sing.'"
6I 
THE APPARITION OF DANTE
" Musa profonda dei Toscani, il Dante,
II nobil cittadin, nostro Alighieri,
Alla filosofia ricco e brillante
Purgo6 il linguaggio e corred6 i pensieri;
E nell' opera sua fatto gigante
A Campaldino nei primi guerrieri;
Lui il Purgatorio, Paradiso e Inferno
Fenomeno terren, poeta eterno! "
-Le Statue disotto Eli Ufizi in Fireneze.  Ottave
improvisale  da  Giusepjpe Moroni  detto I1
,Vicchieri ( llliterato). Florence, I892.
IT has been boldly asserted by writers who should
know better, that there are no ghosts in Italy, possibly
because the two only words in the language for such
beings are the equivocal ones of spirits or spirit, and
spettro or spectre-or specter, as the Websterians write itwhich is of itself appalling as a terrific spell. But the
truth is that there is no kind of spuk, goblin, elf, fairy,
gnome, or ouphe known to all the North of Europe which
was not at home in Italy since old Etruscan days, and
ghosts, though they do not make themselves common, are
by no means as rare as eclipses. For, as may be read in
my "Etruscan Roman Legends," people who will look
through a stone with a hole in it can behold no end of
revenants, or returners, in any churchyard, and on fine
nights the seer can see them swarming in the streets of
Florence. Giotto is in the campanile as a gentle ghost
with the fairy lamb, and Dante, ever benevolent, is all
about town, as appears from the following, which was
unexpectedly bestowed on me:
62 
THE APPARITION OF DANTE
Lo SPIRITO DI DANTE ALIGHIERI.
"When any one is passionately fond of poetry, he should
sit by night on the panchina 1 in the piazza or square of Santa
Croce or in other places (i.e., those haunted by Dante), and
having read his poetry, pronounce the following:
"'Dante, che eri
La gran poeta,
Siei morto, ma vero,
II tuo spirito
E sempre rimasto,
Sempre per nostro
Nostro aiuto.
"'Ti chiamo, ti prego!
E ti scongiuro!
A voler aiutarmi.
Questa poesia
Voglio imparare;
Di piui ancora,
Non voglio soltanto
Imparar la a cantare,
Ma voglio imparare
Di mia testa
Poter le scrivere,
E cosi venire
Un bravo poeta!'
"' Thou Dante, who wert
Such a great poet,
Art dead, but thy spirit
Is truly yet with us,
Here and to aid us.
"'I call thee, I pray thee,
And I conjure thee!
Give me assistance!
I would learn perfectly
All of this poetry.
And yet, moreover,
I would not only
Learn it to sing it,
But I would learn too
How I may truly
From my head write it,
And become really
An excellent poet!'
"And then a form of a man will approach from around
the statue (da canlo), advancing gently-piano-piano-to the
1 Raised footway, high curbstone, causeway, bench.
63 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
causeway, and will sit on it like any ordinary person, and
begin to read the book, and the young man who has invoked
the poet will not fail to obtain his wish. And the one who
has come from the statue is no other indeed than Dante
himself.
"And it is said that if in any public place of resort or inn
(betilola) any poet sings the poems of Dante, he is always
present among those who listen, appearing as a gentleman or
poor man-secondo it locale-according to the place.
"Thus the spirit of Dante enters everywhere without being
seen.
"If his poems be in the house of any person who takes no
pleasure in them, the spirit of the poet torments him in his
bed (in dreams) until the works are taken away."
There is a simplicity and directness in this tradition,
as here told, which proves the faith of the narrator.
Washington Irving found that the good people of East
Cheap had become so familiar with Shakespearian comedy
as to verily believe that Falstaff and Prince Hal and
Dame Quickly had all lived, and still haunted the scenes
of their former revels; and in like manner the Florentine
has followed the traditions of olden time so closely and
lovingly, that all the magnates of the olden time live for
him literally at the present day.   This is in a great
measure due to the fact that statues of all the celebrities
of the past are in the most public places, and that there
are many common traditions to the effect that all statues
at certain times walk about or are animated.
One of the commonest halfpenny or soldo pamphlets
to be found on the stand of all open-air dealers in ballads
-as, for instance, in the Uffizzi-is a collection of poems
on the statues around that building, which of itself indicates the interest in the past, and the knowledge of poets
and artists possessed by the common people. For the
poorest of them are not only familiar with the names, and
more or less with the works, of Orcagna, Buonarotti,
Dante, Giotto, Da Vinci, Raffaelle, Galileo, Machiavelli,
64 
THE APPARITION OF DANTE
and many more, but these by their counterfeit presentments have entered into their lives and live. Men who
are so impressioned make but one bold step over the
border into the fairyland of faith while the more cultured
are discussing it.
I do not, with some writers, believe that a familiarity
with a few names of men whose statues are always before
them, and from whose works the town half lives, indicates
an indescribably high culture or more rcfined nature in
a man, but I think it is very natural for him to make
legends on them.   There are three other incantations
given in another chapter, the object of which, like this
to Dante, is to become a poet.
"From which we learn that in the fairy faith," writes
Flaxius, with ever-ready pen, "that poets risen to spirits still
inspire, even in person, neophytes to song.
"'Life is a state of action, and the store
Of all events is aggregated there
That variegate the eternal universe;
Death is a gate of dreariness and gloom,
That leads to azure isles and beaming skies...
Therefore, 0 spirit, fearlessly bear on.'"
65
n 
LEGENDS OF LA CERTOSA
"' Now when ye moone like a golden flowre,
In ye sky above doth bloome,
Ile lett doune a basket in that houre,
And pull ye upp to my roome,
And give mee a kisse if tis yes,' he cryed;
Ye mayden would nothing refuse;
But held upp hir lippes   Oh I would I had beene
Just thenn in that friar's shoos."
IF we pass the Porta Romana, and keep on for three
miles, we shall arrive at the old Carthusian convent of
La Certosa in Val d'Ema. Soon after passing "the village
of Galluzzo, where the stream is crossed, we come to
an ancient gateway surmounted by a statue of Saint
Laurence, through which no female could enter except by
permission of the archbishop, and out which no monk
could pass." At least, it is so stated in a justly famous
English guide-book, though it does not explain how any
"female" could enter the saint, nor whether the female
in question belonged to the human species, or was fish,
flesh, or red-herring. I should, however, incline to believe the latter is meant, as "herring" is a popular
synonym for a loose fish.
The Certosa was designed and built in the old Italian
Gothic style by Andrea Orcagna, it having been founded
in the middle of the fourteenth century by Niccol6 Acciajuoli, who was of a great Florentine family, from whom
a portion of the Lung Arno is named. The building is
on a picturesque hill, 400 feet above the union of the
brooks called the Ema and the Greve, the whole forming
66 
LEGENDS OF LA CERTOSA
a charming view of a castled monastery of the Middle
Ages.
There is always, among the few monks who have been
allowed to remain, an English or Irish brother, to act as
cicerone to British or American visitors, and show them
the interesting tombs in the crypt or subterranean church,
and the beautiful chapels and celebrated frescoes in the
church. These were painted by Poccetti, and I am told
that among them there is one which commemorates or
was suggested by the following legend, which I leave the
reader to verify, not having done so myself, though I
have visited the convent, which institution is, however,
popularly more distinguished-like many other monasteries-as a distillery of holy cordial than for aught else:
AL CONVENTO DELLA CERTOSA.
"There was in this convent a friar called II Beato Dyonisio,
who was so holy and such a marvellous doctor of medicine,
that he was known as the Frate Miraculoso or Miraculous
Brother.
"And when any of the fraternity fell ill, this good medico
would go to them and say,'Truly thou hast great need of a
powerful remedy, O my brother, and may it heal and purify
thy soul as well as thy body! 1  And it always befell that when
he had uttered this conjuration that the patient recovered;
and this was specially the case if after it they confessed their
sins with great devoutness.
" Brother Dyonisio tasted no food save bread and water; he
slept on the bare floor of his cell, in which there was no object
to be seen save a scourge with great knots; he never took off
his garments, and was always ready to attend any one taken ill.
"The other brothers of the convent were, however, all jolly
monks, being of the kind who wear the tunic as a tonic to
give them a better-or bitter-relish for secular delights, holding
that it is far preferable to have a great deal of pleasure for a
little penitence than per Poco piacer gran penitenza- much
1 "D'una gran purga bisogna avete,
E questa purga davero dovete
Farla all' anima, cosi guarirete!"
67' 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
penitence for very little pleasure.  In short, they were just at
the other end of the rope away from Brother I)yonisio, inasmuch as they ate chickens, bistecche or beef-steaks, and drank
the best wine, even on fast-days-giorni di vig,,ia-and slept
in the best of beds; yes, living like lords, and never bothering
themselves with any kind of penance, as all friars should do.
"Now there was among these monks one who was a great
bestemmniatore, a man of evil words and wicked ways, who had
led a criminal life in the world, and only taken refuge in the
disguise of a monk in the convent to escape the hand of
justice. Brother Dyonisio knew all this, but said nothing;
nay, he even exorcised away a devil whom he saw was always
invisibly at the sinner's elbow, awaiting a chance to catch him
by the hair; but the Beato Dyonisio was too much for him,
and kept the devil ever far away.
"And this was the way he did it:
"It happened one evening that this finto frate, or mock
monk or feigned friar, took it into his head, out of pure mischief, and because it was specially forbidden, to introduce a
donna di mala vita, or a girl of no holy life, into the convent
to grace a festival, and so arranged with divers other scapegraces that the damsel should be drawn up in a basket.
"And sure enough there came next morning to the outer
gate a fresh and jolly black-eyed conladina, who asked the
mock monk whether he would give her anything in charity.
And thefintofrate answering sang:
"'You shall have the best of meat,
Anything you like to eat,
Cutlets, macaroni, chickens,
Every kind of dainty pickings.
Pasticcie and fegatelli,
Salame and mortadelle,
With good wine, if you are clever,
For a very trifling favour!'
"To which the girl replied:
"' Here I am, as here you see!
What would'st thou, holy man, with me?'
" The friar answered:
"'When thou hear'st the hoots and howls
At midnight of the dogs and owls,
And when all men are sunk in sleep,
And only witches watch do keep,
68 
LEGENDS OF LA CERTOSA
Come'neath the window unto me,
And there thou wilt a basket see
IHung by a rope as from a shelf,
And in that basket stow thyself,
And I alone will draw thee up,
Then with us thou shalt gaily sup.'
"But the girl replied, as if in fear:
"'But if the rope should break away,
Oh, then there'd be the devil to pay,
Oh, holy father, first for thee  But most especially for me!
For if by evil luck I'd cracked your
Connecting cord, my limbs I'd fracture!'
"The friar sang:
"' The rope is good, as it is long,
The basket's tough, my arms are strong,
Have thou no fear upon that score,
T'as hoisted many a maid before;
For often such a basket-full
Did I into a convent pull,
And many more I trust will I
Draw safely up before I die.'
"And at midnight the girl was there walking beneath the
windows awaiting the hour to rise-A4scensionem expetanstruly not to heaven, nor from any great liking for the monks,
but for a great fondness for roast-chickens and good wine,
having in her mind's eye such a supper as she had never
before enjoyed, and something to carry home with her.
"So at last there was a rustling sound above, as a window
softly opened, and a great basket came vibrating down below;
and the damsel, well assured, got into it like a hen into her
nest, while the lusty friar above began to draw like an artist.
"Now the Beato frate Dyonisio, knowing all that passed
round about by virtue of his holy omniscience, determined to
make manifest to the monks that things not adapted to piety
led them into the path of eternal punishment.
"Therefore, just as the basket-full of girl touched the window
of the convent, it happened by the virtue of the holy Dyonisio
that the rope broke and the damsel came with a capi tombola
somerset or first-class tumble into the street; but as she, poor
soul, had only sinned for a supper, which she greatly needed
and seldom got, she was quit for a good fright, since no other
harm happened to her.
69 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"But it was far otherwise with the wicked monk, who had
only come into that holy monastery to stir up sin; for he,
leaning too far over at the instant, fell with an awful howl to
the ground, where he roared so with pain that all the other
monks came running to see what was the matter. And they
found him indeed, more dead than alive, terribly bruised, yet
in greater agony of mind than of body, saying that Satan had
tempted him, and that he would fain confess to the Beato
Dyonisio, who alone could save him.
"Then the good monk tended him, and so exhorted him
that he left his evil ways and became a worthy servant of God,
and the devil ceased to tempt him. And in due time Brother
Dyonisio died, and as a saint they interred him in the crypt
under the convent, and the morning after his burial a beautiful
flower was found growing from his tomb, and so they sainted
him.
"The fall of the girl was a scandal and cause of laughter
for all Florence, so that from that day the monks never ventured
more to draw up damsels in baskets."
This story is so widely spread in many forms, that the
reader can hardly have failed to have heard it; in fact,
there are few colleges where it has not happened that a
basket has not been used for such smuggling. One of the
most amusing instances is of a damsel in New Haven,
or Cambridge, Massachusetts, who was very forgetful.
One day she said to a friend, "You have no idea how
wicked some girls are. The other morning early-I mean
late at night-I was going by the college when I saw a
girl being drawn up in a basket by some students, when
all at once the rope broke-and down I came."
In Germany, as in the East, the tale is told of a wooer
who is drawn up half-way in a basket and then let remain for everybody to behold. In Uhland's Old Ballads
there is one to this effect of Heinrich Corrade der
Schreiber im Korbe. Tales on this theme at least need
not be regarded as strictly traditional.
There is another little legend attached to La Certosa
which owes its small interest to being told of a man who
7o 
LEGENDS OF LA CERTOSA
was one of the Joe Millers of Italy in the days of the
Medici.   It is a curious fact that humorists do most
abound and are most popular in great epochs of culture.
Domenico Barlacchi was a banditore-herald or public
crier-of Florence, commonly known as I1 Barlacchia, who
lived in the time of Lorenzo de' Medici, and who, being
ifolto piacevole e faceto, or pleasing and facetious, as I
am assured by an ancient yellow jest-book of i636 now
before me, became, like Piovano Arlotto and Gonella, one
of the famous wits of his time.  It is worth noting,
though it will be no news to any folk-lorist, that in these
flying leaves, or fleeting collections of facetie, there are
many more indications of familiar old Florentine life than
are to be gleaned from the formal histories which are
most cited by writers who endeavour to illustrate it.
"One morning Barlacchia, with other boon companions,
went to La Certosa, three miles distant from Florence,' where,
having heard mass, they were taken over the convent by one
of the friars, who showed them the convent and cells   Of
which Barlacchia said'twas all very fine, but that he would
like to see the wine-cellar-sentendosi egli hauer sete-as he
felt great thirst sadly stealing over him.
"To which the friar replied that he would gladly show them
that part of the convent, but that unfortunately the Decano
who kept the keys was absent.  [Decano, dean or deacon, may
be rendered roughly in English as a dog, or literally of a dog
or currish.] To which Barlacchia replied,'Truly I am sorry
for it, and I wish you were all de' cani or dogs!'
Times have changed, and whether this tale brought
about the reform I cannot say, but it is certain that the
good monks at present, without waiting to be asked,
generally offer a glass of their famous cordial to visitors.
Tastes may differ, but to mine, when it is old, the green
Certosa, though far cheaper, is superior to Chartreuse.
I It appears from this story that La Certosa was " even then as now"
visited by strangers as one of the lions of Florence.
71 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
Another tale of Barlacchia, which has a certain theological affinity with this story, is as follows:
"A great illness once befell Barlacchia, so that it was
rumoured all over Florence that he was dead, and great was
the grieving thereover. But having recovered, by the grace
of God, he went from his house to the palace of the Grand
Duke, who said to him:
"' Ha! art thou alive, Barlacchia?  We all heard that thou
wert dead.'
"'Signore, it is true,' was his reply.' I was indeed in the
other world, but they sent me back again, and that for a mere
trifle, which you forgot to give me.'
"' And what was that?' asked the Duke.
"' I knocked,' resumed Barlacchia,'at the gate of heaven,
and they asked me who I was, what I had done in the world,
and whether I had left any landed property.   To which I
replied no, never having begged for anything.  So they sent
me off, saying that they did not want any such poor devils
about them-non volevano l simile datochi.  And therefore,
illustrious Signore, I make so bold as to ask that you would
kindly give me some small estate, so that another time I may
not be turned away.'
"Which so pleased the magnificent and liberal Lorenzo
that he bestowed on Barlacchia a podere or farm.
"Now for a long time after this illness, Barlacchia was very
pale and haggard, so that everybody who met him (and he
was well known to everybody) said,'Barlacchia, mind the rules'
-meaning the rules of health; or else,'Barlacchia, look to
yourself;' or regolati! or guardatevi!-till at last he became tired
with answering them. So he got several small wooden rules
or rulers, such as writers use to draw lines, and hung them by
a cord to his neck, and with them a little mirror, and when
any one said'Regolati'-' mind the rules,' he made no reply,
but looked at the sticks, and when they cried'Guardatevi I'
he regarded himself in the mirror, and so they were answered."
This agrees with the sketch of Lorenzo as given by
Oscar Browning in his admirable "Age of the Condottieri,"
a short history of Medieval Italy from 1409 to 1530:
"Lorenzo was a bad man of business; he spent such large
sums on himself that he deserved the appellation of the
72 
LEGENDS OF LA CERTOSA
Magnificent. He reduced himself to poverty by his extravagance; he alienated his fellow-citizens by his lust... and was
shameless in the promotion of his private favourites."
Yet with all this he was popular, and left a legendary
fame in which generosity rivals a love of adventure. I
have collected many traditions never as yet published
relating to him, and in all he appears as a bon prince.
"But verily when I consider that what made a gallant lord
four hundred years ago would be looked after now by the
Lord Chancellor and the law courts with a sharp stick, I
must needs," writes Flaxius, "exclaim with Spenser sweet:
"' Me seemes the world is run quite out of square,
For that which all mnen once did Vertue call,
Is now called Vice, and that which Vice was hight
Is now hight Vertue, and so used of all;
Right now is wrong,, and wrong that was, is right,
As all things else in time are changed quight."'
73 
LEGENDS OF THE BRIDGES IN FLORENCE
"I stood upon a bridge and heard
The water rushing by,
And as I thought, to every word
The water made reply.
I looked into the deep river,
I looked so still and long,
Until I saw the elfin shades
Pass by in many a throng.
They came and went like starry dreams,
For ever moving on,
As darkness takes the starry beams
Unnoted till they're gone."
THERE is something in a bridge, and especially in an old
one, which has been time-worn and mossed into harmony
with surrounding nature, which has always seemed
peculiarly poetical or strange to men. Hence so many
legends of devil's bridges, and it is rather amusing when
we reflect how, as Pontifex, he is thus identified with the
head of the Church. Thus I once, when attending law
lectures in Heidelberg in I847, heard Professor Mittermaier say, that those who used the saying of "the divine
right of kings" as an argument reminded him of the
peasants who assumed that every old bridge was built
by the devil. It is, however, simply the arch, which in any
form is always graceful, and the stream passing through
it like a living thing, which forms the artistic attraction
or charm of such structures. I have mentioned in my
"Memoirs" that Ralph Waldo Emerson was once impressed by a remark, the first time I met him, to the
effect that a vase in a room had the effect of a bridge
74 
LEGENDS OF THE BRIDGES IN FLORENCE 75
in a landscape-at least, he recalled it at once when I met
him twenty years later.
The most distinguished bridge, from a legendary point
of view, in Europe, was that of Saint John Nepomuc in
Prague-recently washed away owing to stupid neglect;
the government of the city probably not supporting, like
the king in the opera-bouffe of " Barbe Bleu," a commissioner of bridges.   The most picturesque work of the
kind which I recall is that of the Ponte Maddalena-also
a devil's bridge-at the Bagni di Lucca. That Florence is
not wanting in legends for its bridges appears from the
following:
THE SPIRIT OF THE PONTE VECCHIO OR OLD BRIDGE.
"He who passes after midnight on the Ponte Vecchio can
always see a form which acts as guard, sometimes looking like
a beggar, sometimes like a guardia di sicurezza, or one of the
regular watchmen, and indeed appearing in many varied forms,
but generally as that of a watchman, and always leaning on
the bridge.
"And if the passer-by asks him any such questions as
these:'Chi siei?'-' Cosa fai?'-' Dove abiti?'-' Ma vien'
con me?'  That is:'Who are you?'-' What dost thou do?'
-'Where is your home?'-' Wilt with me come?'-he seems
unable to utter anything; but if you ask him,'Who am I?' it
seems to delight him, and he bursts into a peal of laughter
which is marvellously loud and ringing, so that the people in
the shops waking up cry,'There is the goblin of the Ponte
Vecchio at his jests again!'  For he is a merry sprite, and
then they go to sleep, feeling peaceably assured that he will
watch over them as of yore.
"And this he really does for those who are faithful unto
him. And those who believe in spirits should say sincerely:
"' Spirito del Ponte Vecchio,
Guardami la mia bottega!
Guardami dagli ladroni!
Guardamni anche dalla strega!'
"'Spirit of the ancient bridge!
Guard my shop and all my riches,
From the thieves who prowl by night,
And especially from witches!' 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"Then the goblin ever keeps guard for them. And should
it ever come to pass that thieves break into a shop which he
protects, he lets them work away till they are about to leave,
when he begins to scream'AS ladro I al ladro!' and follows
them till they are taken.
"But when the police have taken the thief, and he is
brought up to be interrogated, and there is a call for the
individual who was witness (quando le guardie vanno per interrogare l'individuo che si e trovato iresente), lo and behold he
has always disappeared.
"And at times, when the weather is bad, he prowls about
the bridge in the form of a cat or of a he-goat, and should
any very profane, abusive rascal (bestemmiatore) come along,
the spirit as a goat will go before, running nimbly, when all
at once the latter sinks into the earth, from which flames
play forth, to the great terror of the sinner, while the goblin
vanishes laughing."
I have very little doubt that this guardian spirit of the
bridge is the same as Teramo, i.e., Hermes Mercury, who
is believed in the Toscana Romana to betray thieves
when they commit murder. But Mercury was also a
classic guardian of bridges.
This merry goblin of the Ponte Vecchio has a colleague
not far away in the Spirito del Ponte alla Carraia, the
legend of which is as follows. And here I would note,
once for all, that in almost every case these tales were
written out for me in order to secure the greater accuracy,
which did not however always ensure it, since even Miss
Roma Lister, who is to the manor or manner born, often
had with me great trouble in deciphering the script. For
verily it seems to be a decree of destiny that everything traditional shall be involved, when not in Egyptian or Himaritic, or Carthaginian or Norse-Runic, at
least in some diabolical dialect, so anxious is the Spirit
of the past to hide from man the things long passed
away.
76 
LEGENDS OF THE BRIDGES IN FLORENCE 77
AL PONTE ALLA CARRAIA.
"By the Arno, or under the Bridge alla Carraia, there lived
once a certain MIarocchio,l a bestemmniatore, or blasphemer, for
he cursed bitterly when he gained but little, being truly a
nzarocchio, much attached to money. Even in dying he still
swore. And Marocchio had sold himself to the devil, and
hidden his money under a stone in the arch of the bridge.
Yet though he had very poor relations and friends, he confided
nothing to them, and left niente a nessuno,'nothing to nobody.'
Whence it came that after his death he had no rest or peace,
because his treasure remained undiscovered.
"Yet where the money lay concealed there was seen every
night the form of a goat which cast forth flames, and running
along before those who passed by, suddenly sunk into the
ground, disappearing in a great flash of fire.
"And when the renaioli or sand-diggers,2 thinking it was a
real goat, would catch it by the hair, it cast forth fire, so that
many of them died of fright. And it often overthrew their
boats and made all the mischief possible.
"Then certain people thinking that all this indicated a
hidden treasure, sought to find it, but in vain; till at last one
who was pig furbo, or shrewder than the rest, observed that
one day, when the wind was worse than usual, raising skirts
and carrying away caps and hats, there was a goat in all the
hurly-burly, and that this animal vanished at a certain spot.
'There I ween,' he said,'lies money hid!' And knowing
that midnight is the proper time or occasion (cagione di nascosto
tesoro) for buried hoards, he came at the hour, and finding
the habitual goat (il solito chaprone), he addressed him thus:
"'If thou art a blessed soul, then go thy way in peace, and
God be with thee. But if thou sufferest from buried treasure,
then teach me how I, without any fear, may take thy store,
then thou mayst go in peace! And if thou art in torment for
a treasure, show me the spot, and I will take it home, and
then thou'lt be at peace and grieve no more.'
I This word is apparently allied to Marrano, an infidel Moor, miscreant,
traitor, or to amaro, bitter or painful.
2 A peculiarly Florentine word. Renajo, sand-pit, a place so called
near the Arno in Florence (Barretti's Dictionary). I can see several of
these renaioli with their boats from the window at work before me as I
write. Vide "The Spirit of the Arno." 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"Then the goat jumped on the spot where the money was
hidden and sank as usual out of sight in fire.
"So the next day the young man went there and dug till
he discovered the gold, and the spirit of Marocchio was relieved. But to this hour the goat is seen now and then walking
in his old haunt, where he sinks into the ground at the same
place."
The legend of a goat haunting a bridge is probably
derived from the custom of sacrificing an animal to new
buildings or erections.   These were originally human
sacrifices, for which, in later times, the animals were
substituted. Hence the legends of the devil having been
defrauded out of a promised soul by driving a goat or
cat over the bridge as a first crosser. The spirits of the
Ponte Vecchio and Ponte alla Carraia clearly indicate
this origin.
The next legend on this subject is that of the Ponte
alle Grazie, which was built by Capo, the fellow-pupil
of Arnolfo, under the direction of Rubaconte, who filled
the office of Podesta in 1235. Five hundred years are
quite time enough to attract traditions in a country where
they spring up in five; and when I inquired whether there
was any special story attached to the Ponte alle Grazie,
I was soon supplied with the following:
LE PONTE ALLE GRAZIE.
"When one passes under a bridge, or in halls of great
palaces, or the vault of a church, or among high rocks, if he
calls aloud, he will hear what is called the echo of his voice.
"Yet it is really not his own voice which he hears, but the
mocking voices of spirits, the reason being that they are confined to these places, and therefore we do not hear them in the
open air, where they are free. But we can hear them clearly
in great places enclosed, as, for instance, under vaults, and far
oftener in the country, because in limited spaces their voices
are confined and not lost. And these are the voices of people
who were merry and jovial while on earth, and who now take
delight a rijare il verso, to re-echo a strain.
78 
LEGENDS OF THE BRIDGES IN FLORENCE 79
"But under the Ponte alle Grazie we hear the cry of the
spirit of a girl. She was very beautiful, and had grown up
from infancy in constant companionship with a youth of the
neighbourhood, and so from liking as children they went on
to loving at a more advanced age, with greater fondness and
with deeper passion.
"And it went so far that at last the girl found herself with
child, and then she was in great trouble, not knowing how to
hide this from her parents. S/a beccata da una serpe, as the
proverb is;'she had been stung by a serpent,' and now began
to feel the poison. But the youth was faithful and true, and
promised to marry her as soon as he could possibly arrange
matters. So she was quieted for a time.
"But she had a vilely false friend, and a most intimate one,
in a girl who, being a witch, or of that kind, hated her bitterly
at heart, albeit she knew well portare bene la rnaschera, how
to wear the mask.
"Now the poor girl told this false friend that she was
enceinte, and that her lover would marry her; and the dear
friend took her, as the saying is, a trip to Volterra, during
which a man was treated like a prince and robbed or murdered
at the end. For she insinuated that the marriage might fail,
and meantime she, the friend, would consult witches and fate,
who would get her out of her troubles and make all right as
sure as the Angelus. And the false friend went to the witches,
but she took them a lock of hair from the head of the lover
to conjure away his love and work harm. And knowing what
the bridal dress would be, she made herself one like it in every
detail. And she so directed that the bride on the wedding
morning shut herself up in a room and see no one till she
should be sent for.
"The bride-to-be passed the morning in great anxiety, and
while waiting there received a large bouquet of orange-flowers
as a gift from her friend. And these she had perfumed with
a witch-powder. And the bride having inhaled the scent, fell
into a deep sleep, or rather trance, during which she was
delivered of a babe, and knew nothing of it. Now the people
in the house hearing the child cry, ran into the room, and
some one ran to the bridegroom, who was just going to be
married to the false friend, who had by aid of the witches put
on a face and a false seeming, the very counterpart of her he
loved.
"Then the unfortunate girl hearing that her betrothed was 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
being married, and maddened by shame and grief, rushed in
her bride's dress through the streets, and coming to the
Bridge delle Grazie, the river being high, threw herself into it
and was drowned; still holding the bouquet of orange-blossoms
in her hand, she was carried on the torrent into death.
"Then the young man. who had discovered the cheat, and
whose heart was broken, said,'As we were one in life, so we
will be in death,' and threw himself into the Arno from the
same place whence she had plunged, and like her was drowned.
And the echo from the bridge is the sound of their voices, or
of hers. Perhaps she answers to the girls and he to the men
anyhow they are always there, like the hymns in a church."
There is a special interest in the first two paragraphs
of this story, as indicating how a person who believes in
spirits, and is quite ignorant of natural philosophy, explains phenomena. It is precisely in this manner that
most early science was confused with superstition; and
there is more of it still existing than even the learned are
aware of.
I know not whether echoes are more remarkable in
and about Florence than elsewhere, but they are certainly
specially noticed in the local folk-lore, and there are
among the witches invocations to echoes, voices of the
wind, and similar sounds. One of the most remarkable
echoes which I ever heard is in the well of the Villa
Guicciardini, now belonging to Sir John Edgar. It is
very accurate in repeating every sound in a manner so
suggestive of a mocking goblin, that one can easily believe that a peasant would never doubt that it was caused
by another being.   It renders laughter again with a
singularly strange and original effect. Even when standing by or talking near this mystic fount, the echo from
time to time cast back scraps of phrases and murmurs, as
if joining in the conversation. It is worth observing
(vide the story of the Three Horns) that this villa once
belonged to-and is, as a matter of course, haunted by
the ghost of-Messer Guicciardini, the great writer, who
8o 
LEGENDS OF THE BRIDGES IN FLORENCE 8I
was himself a faithful echo of the history of his country,
and of the wisdom of the ancients. Thus into things do
things repeat themselves, and souls still live in what surrounded them. I have not seen this mystic well noticed
in any of the Florentine guide-books of any kind, but its
goblin is as well worthy an interview as many better
known characters. Yea, it may be that he is the soul of
Guicciardini himself, but when I was there I forgot to ask
him if it were so?
I can, however, inform the reader as to the incantation
which is needed to call to the spirit of the well to settle
this question.  Take a copy of his "Maxims" and read
them through; then drink off one glass of wine to the
health of the author, and, bending over the well, distinctly cry-" Sei Messer Guicciardini, di cosi? "-strongly
accentuating the last syllable. And if the reply be in
the affirmative, you may draw your own conclusions.
For those who are not Italianate, it will do quite as well
if they cry, "Guicciardini?  No or yes?"  For even
this echo is not equal to the Irish one, which to "How
dol yop  o?" replied, "Pretty well, I thank you!"
There is a very good story of the Ponte alle Grazie,
anciently known as the Rubaconte, from the Podesta in
whose year of office it was built, told originally by
Sachetti in his Novelle and Manni, Veglie Piacevoli, who
drew  it indeed from Venetian or Neapolitan-Oriental
sources, and which is best told by Leader Scott in' The
Echoes of Old Florence."  It still lives among the people,
and is briefly as follows, in another form:
THE ORIGIN OF THE PONTE ALLE GRAZIE.
"There was once in Florence a Podestk or chief magistrate
named Rubaconte, and he had been chosen in the year 1236,
nor had he been long in office when a man called Bagnai,
because he kept a public bath, was brought before him on the
charge of murder.
F 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"And  Bagnai, telling his tale, said:'This is the very
truth- nefavola ne canzzane di tavola-for I was crossing the
river on the little bridge with a hand-rail by the Palazzo Mozzi,
when there came riding over it a company of gentlemen.
And it befell that I was knocked over the bridge, and fell on a
man below who was washing his feet in the Arno, and lo!
the man was killed by my dropping on him.'
"Now to the Podesth this was neither eggs nor milk, as the
saying is, and he could at first no more conclude on it than if
one had asked him,' Chi nacqueprima-l'uovo o la gallina?'
'Which was born first-the hen or the egg?'  For on- one
side the bagnajolo was innocent, and on the other the dead
man's relations cried for vengeance. But after going from one
side of his brain to the other for five minutes, he saw' from
here to the mountain,' and said:
"'Now I have listened to ye both, and this is a case where
one must
"' Non giudicar per legge ni per carte,
Se non ascolti l'un e l'altra parte.'
" Judge not by law-books nor by chart,
But look with care to either part.'
"' And as it is said, "Berta must drink from her own bottle,"
so I decree that the bagnaio shall go and wash his feet in the
Arno, sitting in the same place, and that he who is the first of
his accusers shall fall from the bridge on his neck, and so kill
him.'
"And truly this settled the question, and it was agreed that
the Podeste was piu savio de gli statuiti-wiser even than the
law itself.
"But then Rubaconte did an even wiser thing, for he determined to have a new bridge built in place of the old one,
and hence came the Ponte alle Grazie,'of which he himself
laid the first foundation-stone, and carried the first basket of
mortar, with all due civic ceremony, in I236.' 1
"But as it is said,'he who has drunk once will drink
again,' it came to pass that Bagnai had to appear once more
as accused before the Podesth. One day he met a man whose
donkey had fallen and could not rise.'Twas on the Ponte
Vecchio.
"The owner seized the donkey by the head, Bagnai caught
him by the tail, and pulled so hard that the tail came off!
1 " Echoes of Old Florence," by Temple Leader.
82 
LEGENDS OF THE BRIDGES IN FLORENCE 83
"Then the contadino or asinaio had Bagnai brought before
the Podeste, and claimed damages for his injured animal.
And Rubaconte decided that Bagnai should keep the ass in
his stable, and feed him well-until the tail had growii
again.
"As may be supposed, the asinaio preferred to keep his
ass himself, and go no farther in the case."
This ancient tale recalls that of Zito, the German magician conjuror, whose leg was pulled off. It is pretty
evident that the donkey's tail had been glued on for the
occasion.
I may here add something relative to the folk-lore of
bridges, which is not without interest. I once asked a
witch in Florence if such a being as a spirit of the water
or one of bridges and streams existed; and she replied:
"Yes, there is a spirit of the water as there is of fire, and
everything else. They are rarely seen, but you can make
them appear.  JHow?  Oh, easily enough, but you must
remember that they are capricious, and appear in many delusive forms.1
"And this is the way to see them. You must go at twilight and look over a bridge, or it will do if it be in the daytime in the woods at a smooth stream or a dark pool-che sia
un pAoco oscuro-and pronounce the incantation, and throw a
handful or a few drops of its water into the water itself. And
then you must look long and patiently, always thinking of it
for several days, when, poco a' poco, you will see dim shapes
passing by in the water, at first one or two, then more and
more, and if you remain quiet they will come in great numbers,
and show you what you want to know. But if you tell any one
what you have seen, they will never appear again, and it will
be well for you should nothing worse happen.
"There was a young man at Civitella in the Romagna
Toscana, and he was in great need of money. He had lost
an uncle who was believed to have left a treasure buried
somewhere, but no one knew where it was. Now this nephew
was a reserved, solitary youth, always by himself in lone places,
1 Like Proteus, the evasive slippery nature of water and the light which.:..
plays on it accounts for this... I*.
I 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
among ruins or in the woods-un poco streghon-a bit of a
wizard, and he learned this secret of looking into streams or
lakes, till at last, whenever he pleased, he could see swarms of
all kinds of figures sweeping along in the water.
"And one evening he thus saw, as in a glass, the form of
his uncle who had died, and in surprise he called out'Zio
mio!'-' My uncle!'  Then the uncle stopped, and the youth
said,'Didst thou but know how I am suffering from poverty!'
When he at once beheld in the water his home and the wood
near it, and a path, and the form of his uncle passed along
the path to a lonely place where there was a great stone.
Then the uncle pointed to the stone and vanished. The
next day the young man went there, and under the stone he
found a great bag of gold-and I hope that the same may
happen to all of us!
"'He who has sheep has wool in store;
He who has mills hath plenty of flour;
He who hath land hath these at call;
He who has money has got them all.'"
84 
THE BASHFUL LOVER
A LEGEND OF THE CHIESA SANTA LUCIA IN THE
VIA DE' BARDI
"She never told her love-oh no!
For she was mild and meek,
And his for her he dared not show,
Because he hadn't the cheek.
'Tis pity this should e'er be past,
For, to judge by what all men say,
'Twere best such difference should last
Unto our dying day."
ALL who have visited Florence have noticed the Church
of Santa Lucia in the Via de' Bardi, from the figure of
the patron with two angels over the door in Lucca della
Robbia ware. Of this place of worship there is in a jestbook a droll story, which the reader may recall when he
enters the building.
"A young Florentine once fell desperately in love with a
beautiful lady of unsullied character and ready wit, and so
followed her about wherever she went; but he being sadly
lacking in wit and sense, at all four corners, never got the
nearer to her acquaintance, though he told all his friends how
irresistible he would be, and what a conquest he would make,
if he could only once get a chance to speak to her. Yet as
this lady prized ready wit and graceful address in a man above
all things, it will be seen that his chance was thin as a strip
of paper.
"But one festa the lady went to the Church of Santa Lucia
in the Via dei Bardi, and one of the friends of the slow-witted
one said to him,'Now is the lucky hour and blooming chance
for you. Go up and speak to her when she approaches the
font to take holy water.'
85 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"Now the lover had prepared a fine speech for the lady,
which he had indeed already rehearsed many times to his
friends with great applause; but when it came to utter it to
the lady a great and awful fear fell on him, the words vanished
-vanished from his memory, and he was dumb as a dead ass.
Then his friend poking him in the ribs, whispered in his ear,
'But say something, man, no matter what!'
"So with a gasp he brought out at last,'Signora, I would
fain be your humble servant.'
"To which the lady, smiling, replied,'Well, I have already
in my house plenty of humble servants, and indeed only too
many to sweep the rooms and wash the dishes, and there is
really no place for another....'
"And the young man turned aside with sickness in his
heart. His wooing for that holiday was o'er."
This may be matched with the story of a bashful New
England lover of the olden time, for there are none such
now-a-days:
"I don't know how I ever got courage to do it; but one
evening I went courting Miss Almira Chapin.
"And when she came in, I sat for half-an-hour, and dared
not say a word. At last I made a desperate dash and got out,
'Things are looking very green out of doors, Miss Almira.'
"And she answered,' Seems to me they're looking a great
deal greener in doors this evening.'
"That extinguished me, and I retreated. And when I was
outside I burst into tears."
86 
LA FORTUNA
A LEGEND OF THE VIA DE' CERCHII
"One day Good Luck came to my home,
I begged of her to stay.
' There's no one loves you more than I,
Oh, rest with me for aye,'
'It may not be; it may not be,
I rest with no one long,' said she."
" Witch Ballads," by C. G. LELAND.
THE manner in which many of the gods in exile still
live in Italy is very fully illustrated by the following
story:
"It is a hard thing sometimes now-a-days for a family to
pass for noble if they are poor, or only poor relations. But it
was easy in the old time, Signore Carlo, easy as drinking
good Chianti. A signore had only to put his shield with
something carved on it over his window, and he was all right.
He was noble senza dubbio.
"Now the nobles had their own noble stories as to what
these noble pictures in stone meant, but the ignoble people
often had another story just as good. Coarse woollen cloth
wears as well as silk. Now you may see on an old palazzo in
the Via de' Cerchi, and indeed in several other places, a shield
with three rings. But people call them three wheels. And
this is the story about the three wheels."
LA FORTUNA.
"There was a man, tanto buono, as good as could be, who
lived in squalid misery. He had a wife and two children, one
blind and another storpia or crippled, and so ugly, both-non
si dice-beyond telling!
"This poor man in despair often wept, and then he would
repeat:
87
r 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"'The wheel of Fortune turns, they say,
But for me it turns the other way;
I work with good-will, but do what I may,
I have only bad luck from day to day.'
"'Yes, little to eat and less to wear, and two poor girls, one
blind and one lame. People say that Fortune is blind herself,
and cannot walk, but she does not bless those who are like
her, that is sure!' And so he wailed and wept, till it was
time to go forth to seek work to gain their daily bread. And
a hard time he had of it.
"Now it happened that very late one night, or very early one
morning, as one may say, between dark and dawn, he went to
the forest to cut wood. When having called to Fortune as
was his wont-Aid! what was his surprise to see-tutta ad un
tratto -all at once, before his eyes, a gleam of light, and
raising his head, he beheld a lady of enchanting beauty passing
along rapidly, and yet not walking-on a rolling ball-e ciondolava le gambe-moving her limbs-I cannot say feet, for she
had none. In place of them were two wheels, and these
wheels, as they turned, threw off flowers from which there
came delicious perfume.
"The poor man uttered a sigh of relief seeing this, and
said:
"'Beautiful lady, believe me when I say that I have invoked thee every day. Thou art the Lady of the Wheels of
Fortune, and had I known how beautiful thou art, I would
have worshipped thee for thy beauty alone. Even thy very
name is beautiful -to utter, though I have never been able to
couple it with mine, for one may see that I am not one of the
fortunate. Yet, though thou art mine enemy, give me, I pray,
just a little of the luck which flies from thy wheel!
"'Yet do not believe, I pray, that I am envious of those
who are thy favourites, nor that because thou art my enemy
that I am thine, for if thou dost not deem that I am worthy,
assuredly I do not deserve thy grace, nor will I, like many,
say that Fortune is not beautiful, for having seen thee, I can
now praise thee more than ever.'
"'I do not cast my favours always on those who deserve
them,' replied Fortune,'yet this time my wheel shall assist
thee. But tell me, thou man of honesty and without envy,
which wouldst thou prefer-to be fortunate in all things thyself alone, or to give instead as much good luck to two men
as miserable as thou art? If thou wilt gain the prize for
88 
LA FORTUNA
thyself alone, turn and pluck one of these flowers! If for
others, then take two.'
"The poor man replied:'It is far better, lady, to raise two
families to prosperity than one. As for me, I can work, and
I thank God and thee that I can do so much good to so
many, although I do not profit by it myself;' and saying this,
he advanced and plucked two flowers.
"Fortune smiled.'Thou must have heard,' she said,' that
where I spend, I am lavish and extravagant, and assuredly
thou knowest the saying that "Three is the lucky number," or
nine. Now I make it a rule that when I relieve families, I
always do it by threes-la stando a (refamrilie-so do thou
go and pluck a flower for thyself!'
"Then the poor man, hearing this, went to the wheels, and
let them turn till a very large fine flower came forth, and
seized it, whereat Fortune smiled, and said:
"'I always favour the bold. Now go and sit on yonder
bench till some one comes.' And saying this, she vanished.
"There came two very poor woodcutters whom he knew
well. One had two sons, another a son and a daughter, and
one and all were as poor and miserable as could be.
"' What has come over thee, that thou art looking so handsome and young,' said one amazed, as he came up.
"'And what fine clothes!' remarked the second.
"'It shall be so anon for ye both,' replied the favourite of
Fortune;'only take these flowers and guard them well.'
"Si, Signore, they sat down on the bench three beggars, and
they rose three fine cavaliers, in velvet and satin, with goldmounted swords, and found their horses and attendants waiting.
And when they got home, they did not know their wives or
children, nor were they known unto them, and it was an hour
before all was got right. Then all went with them as if it
were oiled. The first man found a great treasure the very
first day in his cellar-in fine, they all grew rich, and the
three sons married the three girls, and they all put the three
wheels on their scudi. One of the wheels is the ball on which
Fortune rolled along, and the other two are her feet; or else
the three men each took a wheel to himself. Anyhow, there
they are, pick and choose, Signore-chi ha pit cervello, i'usi!
-let him who has brains, brain!
"Now, it is a saying that ogni flor non fa frutto-every
blossom doth not bear a fruit-but the flowers of Fortune
bear fruit enough to make up for the short crop elsewhere.
89 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"But there is some sense and use in such stories as these,
Signore, after all; for a poor devil who half believes-and very
often quite believes in them gets a great deal of hope and
comfort out of them.   They make him trust that luck or
fairies or something will give him a good turn yet some daychi sa?-and so he hopes, and truly, as they say that no pretty
girl is ever quite poor, so no man who hopes is ever really
broken-grazie, Si,nore/  I hope to tell you another story
before long."
There is something in the making Fortune with two
wheels for feet which suggests a memory of skate-rollers.
I once published an article in the Ethnologische Monatsheft of Budapest, which set forth more fully the idea
expressed in this tale, that the popular or fairy tale is a
source of comfort, or a Bible to the poor, for it always
teaches the frequently delusive, but always cheering lesson
that good-luck or fortune may turn up some day, even
for the most unfortunate. The Scripture promises happiness for the poorest, or indeed specially for the poorest
in the next life; the fairy tale teaches that Cinderella,
the despised, and the youngest, humblest of the three,
will win fortune while here on earth. It inspires hope,
which is a great secret of happiness and success.
To which the learned Flaxius annotates:
"It hath escaped the author-as it hath indeed all mankind-that as the first syllable of Fortuna isfort (Latinfortis),
so the true beginning of luck is strength; and if we are to
understand by una,'one' or'only,' we may even believe that
the name means strength alone or vigorous will, in accordance
with which the ancients declared that'Fortune favours the
bold,' and also ]Prtuna contentionis studiosa est —' Fortune delights in strife.' Therefore she is ever fleeting in this world.
Fortuna simul cum moribus ininiutatur, as Boethius hath it."
go 
THE STORY OF THE UNFINISHED PALACE
A LEGEND OF THE VIA DEL PROCONSOLO
"I' Yes, you have cheated me,' howled the devil to the architect.' But
I lay a curse upon your work. It shall never be finished.' "'-Snow and
Planche's "Legends of the Rhine."
ALL great and ancient buildings which were never finished
have a legend referring to their incompleteness. There
was one relative to the Cathedral of Cologne, which may
be found in Planche's "Legends of the Rhine," and as
there is a palazzo noi finito in Florence, I at once scented
an old story; nor was I disappointed, it being unearthed
in due time, and written out for me as follows:
IL PALAZZO NON FINITO.
"On the corner of the Via del Proconsole and the Borgo
degli Albizzi there is an unfinished palace.
"The great Signore Alessandro Strozzi had a friend who,
when dying, confided to him the care of his only son. And
it was a troublesome task, for the youth was of a strange
temper. And a vast property was left to the young man, his
father imploring him not to waste it, and to live in friendship
with his guardian.
"But his father had hardly closed his eyes in death before
this youth began to act wildly, and above all things to gamble
terribly. And as the saying is, 1l diavolo ha parte in ogni giuoco
'The devil has a hand in every game,' so he soon brought
himself into company with the gamester. Now, as you have
heard,'tis la lingua o la bocca e quella che fa il giuoco.
"'Every game, as it is sung,
Is won by mouth, or else by tongue.'
"So this devil or imp by smooth talk succeeded in deceiving
9I 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
the young heir, and leading him into a compact by which he
was to achieve for the Signore all the work which might be
required of him for a hundred years, no matter what it was,
and then the heir must forfeit his soul.
"For some time the young man was satisfied with always
winning at gambling. Yes, he ruined scores, hundreds, and
piled up gold till he got sick of the sight of cards. You know
the saying,' When the belly is full the eyes are tired,' and'A
crammed dove hates to fly.'
"So for a while he kept the devil busy, bringing him a girl
here, and building him a tower there, sending him to India
for diamonds, or setting him at work to keep off storm and
hail from his vineyards, which the devil found hard work
enough, I promise you, Signore, for then he had to fight other
devils and witches. Then he put him at a harder job. There
was a ghost of a stregone or wizard who haunted his palazzo.
Now such ghosts are the hardest to lay.
"'E niente, Signore,' said the devil.'E  vi passarebbe un
carro difieno.'Tis nothing, my lord; one could drive a cartload of hay through it.'  But the devil had a devil of a time
to lay that ghost! There was clanking of chains and howling,
and il diavolo scatenato all night long ere it was done.
"'Eftnito, Signore,' said the devil in the morning.   But he
looked so worn-out and tired, that the young man began to
think.
"And he thought,'This devil of mine is not quite so clever
as I supposed.' And it is a fact that it was only a diavolinoa small devil who had thought the young man was a foolin which he was mistaken. A man may have un ramo di
Itazzo come l'olmo di Fiesole-'be a bit of a fool,' but'a fool
and a sage together can beat a clever man,' as the saying is,
and both were in this boy's brain, for he came of wizard blood.
So he reflected,'Perhaps I can cheat this devil after all.' And
he did it.
"Moreover, this devil being foolish, had begun to be too
officious and consequential. He was continually annoying the
Signore by asking for more work, even when he did not want
it, as if to make a show of his immense ability and insatiable
activity. Finally, beginning to believe in his own power, he
1 "Well, yes, I think you might;
A cart of hay went through this afternoon."
I believe this is by Peter Pindar. The Italian proverb probably suggested it.
92 
THIIE STORY OF THE UNFINISHED PALACE 93
began to appear far too frequently uncalled, rising up from
behind chairs abruptly in his own diabolical form, in order to
inspire fear; but the young lad had not been born in Carnival
to be afraid of a mask, as the saying is, and all this only made
him resolve to send his attendant packing.
"' Chi ha pazienza, cugino,
Ha i tordi grassi a un quattrino.'
"'He who hath patience, mind me, cousin,
May buy fat larks a farthing a dozen.'
"Now, amid all these dealings, the young signore had contrived to fall in love with the daughter of his guardian,
Alessandro Strozzi, and also to win her affections; but he
observed one day when he went to see her, having the diavolino invisible by his side, the attendant spirit suddenly jibbed
or balked, like a horse which stops before the door, and refused to go farther. For there was a Madonna painted on
the outside, and the devil said:
"' I see a virgin form divine,
And virgins are not in my line;
I'm not especially devout:
Go thou within-I'll wait without!'
"And the young man observing that his devil was devilishly
afraid of holy water, made a note of it for future use. And
having asked the Signore Alessandro Strozzi for the hand of
his daughter, the great lord consented, but made it a condition
that the youth should build for his bride a palace on the corner
of the Via del Proconsolo and the Borgo degli Albizzi, and it
must be ready within a year.   This he said because in his
heart he did not like the match, yet for his daughter's love he
put this form upon it, and he hoped that ere the time would
be out something might happen to prevent the marriage.
In fin che v'e fiato v'k speranza-while there is breath, Signore,
there is hope.
"Now the young man having resolved to finish with his
devil for good and all, began to give him great hope in divers
ways. And one day he said to the imp:
"'Truly thou hast great power, but I have a mind to make
a great final game with thee.   Ogni belgiuoco vuol durar poco
-no good game should last long, and let us play this compact
of ours out. If thou canst build for me a palace at the corner
of the Via del Proconsolo and the Borgo degli Albizzi, and 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
finish it in every detail exactly as I shall order it, then will
I be thine, and thou need'st do no more work for me. And
if thou canst not complete it to my taste, then our compact
will be all smoke, and we two past acquaintances.'
"Now it is said that to cook an egg to a turn, make a dog's
bed to suit him exactly, or teach a Florentine a trick, sono trk cose
difficile-are three very difficult things to do, and this contract
for building the palace on time with indefinite ornaments made
the devil shake in his shoes. However, he knew that'Pippo
found out how to stand an egg on its end,' 1 and where there's
a will there's a way, especially when you have'all hell to back
you up'-ratiutio l'inferno a spalleggiarvi.
"So he built and built away, with one gang of devils disguised as workmen by day, and another, invisible, by night,
and everybody was amazed to see how the palace rose like
weeds after a rain; for, as the saying is, mala herba presto cresce
-'ill weeds grow apace,' and this had the devil to water it.
"Till at last one day, when the six months were nearly up,
the imp said to the master:
"'Ebbene, Signore, it is getting to the time for you to tell
me how you would like to have the palace decorated. Thus
far everything has been done exactly as you directed.'
"' Ah yes, I see-all done but the finishing.  Well, it may
be a little hard, but I promise you, on the word of a gentleman
(tra galant' uomini unaparola e un instrumento), that I will not
ask you to do anything which cannot be executed even by the
artists of this city.'
"Now the devil was delighted to hear this (for he was
afraid he might be called on to work miracles unheard of),
and so replied:
"'Top! what man has done the devil can do.  I'll risk the
trick if you swear that men can work it.'
"' I swear!'
"' And what is the finish?'
"'Oh, very easy.  My wife who is to be is of a very pious
turn, and I want to please her. Firstly, all the work must be
equal in execution to the best by the greatest masters-painting, sculpture, and gilding.'
1 Rizzar ~uovo di Pippo s  un pitzzano.  "To do a difficult thing, or
achieve it by tact and skill."  This hints a. the egg of Columbus.  But
Columbus set the egg upright by breaking its end, which was not a fair
game. Any egg can be set on end on a marble table (I have done it),
by patient balancing, without breaking.
94 
THE STORY OF THE UNFINISHED PALACE 9S
"' Agreed.'
"'Secondly, the subjects.  Over the front door-bisogna
mettermi Gesu Cristo onnipotente unitamniente a Maria e il suo
divin figlio, Padre, Figlio e Spirito Santo-that is, the Holy
Family and Trinity, the Virgin and Child.'
"'Wha-wha-what's that?' stammered the devil, aghast.
'It isn't fair play-not according to the game.'
"'On every door,' continued the young man, raising his
voice, and looking severely at the devil,'the same subject is
to be repeated on a thick gold ground, all the ultramarine to
be of the very best quality, washed in holy water.'
"' Ugh! ugh! ugh!' wailed the devil.
"'The roof is to be covered with the images of saints as
pinnacles, and, by the way, wherever you have a blank space,
outside on the walls or inside, including ceilings-just cover it
with the same subjects-the Temptation of Saint Antony or
Saint 
"'Oh, go to the devil with your saints and gold grounds!'
roared the imp.'Truly I have lost this game; fishing with
a golden hook is a fool's business. There is the compact!'
"It was night-deep, dark night-there came a blinding
flash of light-an awful crash of indescribable unearthly sound,
like a thunder-voice. The imp, taking the form of a civetta or
small owl, vanished through the window in the storm-wind
and rain, wailing,'Afaifinito /'
"And it is said that to this day the small owl still perches
by night on the roof of the palace, wailing wearily-'Unfinished! unfinished!"'
In no country in the world has unscrupulous vigorous
intellect been so admired as in Italy, the land of the
Borgias and Machiavellis. In the rest of Europe man
finds a master in the devil; in Italy he aims at becoming
the devil's master.   This is developed boldly in the
legend of "Intialo," to which I have devoted another
chapter, and it appears as markedly in this. The idea of
having an attendant demon, whom the master, in the consciousness of superior intellect, despises, knowing that he
will crush him when he will, is not to be found, I believe,
in a single German, French, or any other legend not
Italian. 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
If this be so, it is a conception well deserving study, as
illustrating the subtle and powerful Italian intellect as it
was first analysed by Macaulay, and is now popularly
understood by such writers as Scaife.1 It is indeed a
most unholy and unchristian conception, since it is quite
at war with the orthodox theology of the Church, as of
Calvin and Luther, which makes the devil the grand
master of mankind, and irresistible except where man is
saved by a special miracle or grace.
And it may also be noted from such traditions that
folk-lore, when it shall have risen to a sense of its true
dignity and power, will not limit itself to collecting
variants of fairy tales to prove the routes of races over
the earth, but rise to illustrating the characteristic, and
even the esthetic, developments of different stocks. That
we are now laying the basis for this is evident.
Though the devil dared not depict lives and legends of
the saints upon the palace, he did not neglect to put his
own ugly likeness there, repeated above the four front
windows in a perfectly appalling Gothic style, which contrasts oddly with the later and severe character of the
stately building.   These faces are fiendish enough  to
have suggested the story.
It may here be mentioned that it was in the middle of
the Borgo degli Albizzi, near this palace, that that indefatigable corpse-reviver and worker of miracles, San
Zenobio, raised from the dead the child of a noble and
rich French lady. "Then in that place there was put
a pillar of white marble in the middle of the street, as
a token of a great miracle."
"Haoc fabula doce'-this fable teaches," adds Flaxius the
immortal, "that there was never yet anything left incomplete
by neglect or incapacity or poverty, be it in buildings or in
that higher structure, man himself, but what it was attributed
1 "Florentine Life during the Renaissance," by Walter B. Scaife.
Baltimore, I893.
96 
THE STORY OF THE UNFINISHED PALACE  97
to the devil. If it had not been for the devil, what fine fellows,
what charming creatures, we would all have been to be sure!
The devil alone inspires us to sin; we would never have
dreamed of it. Whence I conclude that the devil is dearer to
man, and a greater benefactor, than all the saints and several
deities thrown in, because he serves as a scudaway scapegoat,
and excellent excuse for the sins of all the orthodox of all
time. How horrible it would be were we all made unto
ourselves distinctly responsible for our sins-our unfinished
palaces, our good resolutions broken; and how very pleasant
it is that it is all the devil's fault, and not our own! Oh my
friends, did I believe as ye do-which I don't-I would long
ago have raised altars and churches to the devil, wherein I
would praise him daily as the one who in spirit and in truth
takes upon himself the sins of all the world, bearing the burden
of our iniquities. For saying which thing, but in other words,
the best Christian of his age, Bishop Agobard, was hunted
down well-nigh to death. Thus endeth a great lesson!"
G 
THE DEVIL OF THE MERCATO VECCHIO
"Have I not the magic wand, by means of which, having first invoked
the spirit Odeken, one can enter the elfin castle? Is not this a fine trot
on the devil's crupper? Here it is-one of the palaces erected by rivals of
the Romans. Let us enter, for I hold a hand of glory to which all doors
open. Let us enter, hic el nunc, the palace fair..... Here it was once on
a Sabato of the Carnival that there entered four graceful youths of noble
air."-Arlecchino alle Nozze di Cana.
I VERY naturally made inquiry as to whether there was
not a legend of the celebrated bronze devil made by
Giovanni di Bologna, which remained until lately in the
Mercato Vecchio, and I obtained the following, which is,
from intrinsic evidence, extremely curious and ancient.
IL DIAVOLO ALLA CAVOLAIA.
"On the corner of the Palace Cavolaia there were anciently
four devils of iron.1 These were once four gentlemen who,
being wonderfully intimate, had made a strange compact,
swearing fidelity and love among themselves to death, agreeing
also that if they married, their wives and children and property
should be all in common.
"When such vows and oaths are uttered, the saints may
pass them by, but the devils hear them; they hear them in
hell, and they laugh and cry,' These are men who will some
day be like us, and here for ever!'  Such sin as that is like a
root which, once planted, may be let alone-the longer it is in
the ground, the more it grows.   Terra non a'vilisce oro -
earth does not spoil gold, but even virtue, like friendship,
may grow into a great vice when it grows too much.
"As it happened in this case.  Well, the four friends were
invited to a great festa in that fatal palace of the Cavolaia, and
they all went. And they danced and diverted themselves
1 The diavolino of Gian di Bologna is of bronze, but popular tradition
makes light of accuracy.
98 
THE DEVIL OF THE MERCATO VECCHIO  99
with great and beautiful ladies in splendour and luxury. A
the four were all singularly handsome and greatly admire
the ladies came con grandi tueletti-in their best array, sfarz
per essere corteggiate-making themselves magnificent to 
courted by these gentlemen, and so they looked at one anothe
with jealous eyes, and indeed many a girl there would hav
gladly been wife to them all, or wished that the four were on
while the married dames wished that they couldfare i sposamen
-be loved by one or all. People were wicked in those days
"But what was their surprise-and a fearful surprise it waswhen, after all their gaiety, they heard at three o'clock in th
morning the sound of a bell which they had never hear
before, and then divine music and singing, and there entere
a lady of such superhuman beauty as held them enchante
and speechless. Now it was known that, by the strict rules 4
that palace, the festa must soon close, and there was on
time for one more dance, and it was sworn among thes
friends that every lady who danced with one of them, mu
dance with all in succession.   Truly they now repented 
their oath, for she was so beautiful.
"But the lady advancing, pointed out one of the four, an
said,'I will dance with him alone.'
"The young signore would have refused, but he felt him
self obliged, despite himself, to obey her, and when they ha
danced, she suddenly disappeared, leaving all amazed.
"And when they had recovered from the spell which ha
been upon them, they said that as she had come in with th
dawn and vanished with the day, it must have been th
Beautiful Alba, the enchanting queen of the fairies.
"The festa lasted for three days, and every night at th
same hour the beautiful Alba reappeared, enchanting all s
wonderfully, that even the ladies forgot their jealousy, an
were as much fascinated by her as were the men.
"Now of the four friends, three sternly reproached th
other for breaking his oath, they being themselves madly i
love; but he replied, and truly, that he had been compelle
by some power which he could not resist to obey her. Bt
that, as a man of honour, so far as he could, he would comp
with the common oath which bound them.
"Then they declared that he should ask her if she love
him, and if she assented, that he should inform her of the
oath, and that she must share her love with all or nonealtrimenti non avrebbe maipotuta sposarla.
I I
I 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"Which he did in good faith, and she answered,'Hadst
thou loved me sincerely and fully, thou wouldst have broken
that vile oath; and yet it is creditable to thee that, as a man
of honour, thou wilt not break thy word. Therefore thou
shalt be mine, but not till after a long and bitter punishment.
Now I ask thy friends and thee, if to be mine they are willing
to take the form of demons and bear it openly before all men.'
"And when he proposed it to his friends, he found them so
madly in love with the lady that they, thinking she meant some
disguise, declared that to be hers they would willingly wear
any form, however terrible.
"And  the fair Alba, having heard them, said,'Yes, ye
shall indeed be mine; more than that I do not promise.
Now meet me to-morrow at the Canto dei Diavoli-at the
Devil's Corner!'
"And they gazed at her astonished, never having heard of
such a place. But she replied,'Go into the street and your
feet shall guide you, and truly it will be a great surprise.'
"And they laughed among themselves, saying,'The surprise
will be that she will consent to become a wife to us all.'
"But when they came to the corner, in the night, what was
their amazement to see on it four figures of devils indeed, and
Alba, who said,'Now ye are indeed mine, but as for my being
yours, that is another matter.'
"Then touching each one, she also touched a devil, and
said,'This is thy form; enter into it. Three of ye shall ever
remain as such. As for this fourth youth, he shall be with ye
for a year, and then, set free, shall live with me in human
form. And from midnight till three in the morning ye also
may be as ye were, and go to the Palazzo Cavolaia, and dance
and be merry with the rest, but through the day become
devils again.'
"And so it came to pass.  After a year the image of the
chosen lover disappeared; and then one of the three was
stolen, and then another, till only one remained."
There is some confusion in the conclusion of this story,
which I have sought to correct. The exact words are,
" For many years all four remained, till one was stolen
away, and that was the image of the young man who
pleased the beautiful Alba, who thus relieved him of the
spell."  But as there has been always only one devil on
.e e..
,          
IO0 
THE DEVIL OF THE MERCATO VECCHIO  Io0
the corner, I cannot otherwise reconcile the story with
the fact.
I have said that this tale is ancient from intrinsic
evidence. Such extravagant alliances of friendship as is
here described were actually common in the Middle Ages;
they existed in England even till the time of Queen
Elizabeth.  In "Shakespeare and his Friends," or in the
"Youth of Shakespeare"-I forget which-two young men
are represented as fighting a duel because each declared
that he loved the other most. There was no insane folly
of sentiment which was not developed in those days.
But this is so foreign to modern ideas, that I think it
could only have existed in tradition to these our times.
There were also during the Middle Ages strange heretical sects, among whom such communism existed, like
the polyandria of the ancient Hindoos. There may be
a trace of it in this story.
Alba, Albina, or Bellaria, appear in several Tuscan
traditions. They are forms of the Etruscan Alpan, the
fairy of the Dawn, a sub-form of Venus, the spirit of
Light and Flowers, described in my work on "Etruscan
Roman Traditions." It may be remarked as an ingenious
touch in the tale, that she always appears at the first
dawn, or at three o'clock, and vanishes with broad day.
This distinguishes her from the witches and evil spirits,
who always come at midnight and vanish at three o'clock.
The readiness with which the young men consented to
assume the forms of demons is easily explained. They
understood that it meant only a disguise, and it was very
common in the Middle Ages for lovers to wear something
strange in honour of their mistresses. The dress of a
devil would only seem a joke to the habitues of the
Cavolaia. It may be also borne in mind that in other
tales of Florence it is distinctly stated that spirits confined in statues, columns, et cetera, only inhabit them "as
bees live in hives." They appear to sleep in them by 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
day, and come out at night. So in India the saint or
demon only comes into the relic or image from time to
time, or when invoked.
After I had written the foregoing, I was so fortunate
as to receive from Maddalena yet another legend of the
bronze imp of Giovanni di Bologna, which tale she had
unearthed in the purlieus of the Mercato Vecchio.   I
have often met her when thus employed, always in the
old part of the town, amid towering old buildings bearing
shields of the Middle Ages, or in dusky vicoli and chiassi,
and when asked what she was doing,'twas ever the same
reply, "Afa, Signore Carlo, there's an old woman-or
somebody-lives here who knows a story." And then I
knew that there was going to be a long colloquy in
dialect which would appal any one who only knew choice
Italian, the end of which would be the recovery, perhaps
from half-a-dozen vecchie, of a legend like the following,
of which I would premise that it was not translated by
me, but by Miss Roma Lister, who knew Maddalena,
having taken lessons from her in the sublime art of
battezare le carte, or telling fortunes by cards, and other
branches of the black art. And having received the
manuscript, which was unusually illegible and troublesome, I asked Miss Lister to kindly transcribe it, but
with great kindness she translated the whole, only begging
me to mention that it is given with the most scrupulous
accuracy, word for word, from the original, so far as the
difference of language permitted.
IL DIAVOLINO DEL CANTO DE' DIAVOLI.
The Imp of the Devil's Corner and the Pious Fairy.
"There was once a pious fairy who employed all her time in
going about the streets of Florence in the shape of a woman,
preaching moral sermons for the good of her hearers, and singing so sweetly that all who heard her voice fell in love with her.
Even the women forgot to be jealous, so charming was her
102 
THE DE VIL OF THE MERCA TO VECCHIO Io03
voice, and dames and damsels followed her about, trying to
learn her manner of singing.
"Now the fairy had converted so many folk from their evil
ways, that a certain devil or imp-who also had much business in Florence about that time-became jealous of the
intruder, and swore to avenge himself; but it appears that
there was as much love as hate in the fiend's mind, for the
fairy's beautiful voice had worked its charm even when the
hearer was a devil. Now, besides being an imp of superior
intelligence, he was also an accomplished ventriloquist (or one
who could imitate strange voices as if sounding afar or in any
place); so one day while the pious fairy in the form of a
beautiful maiden held forth to an admiring audience, two
voices were heard in the street, one here, another there, and
the first sang:
"'Senti o bella una parola,
Te la dico a te sola,
Qui nessun ci puo'l sentire
Una cosa ti vuo dire;
Se la senti la stemperona,
L'a un voce da buffona
'l iene in mano la corona.1
Per fare credere a questo o quella,
Che l'e sempre una verginella.'
"  Hear, O lovely maid, a word,
Only to thyself I'd bear it,
For it must not be o'erheard,
Least of all should the preacher hear it.
'Tis that, while seeming pious, she,
Holding in hand a rosary,
Her talk is all hypocrisy,
To make believe to simple ears,
That still the maiden wreath she wears.'
"Then another voice answered:
"'La risposta ti vuo dare,
Senza farti aspettare;
Ora di un bell' affare,
Te la voglio raccontare,
Quella donna che sta a cantare,
E una strega di queste contrade,
Che va da questo e quello,
A cantarle indovinello,
A chi racconta: Voi siete
Buona donna affezionata.
A1 vostro marito, ma non sapete,
Cie' di voi un'altra appasionata.'
I This is supposed to be addressed to another, not to the fairy. 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"'Friends, you'll not have long to wait
For what I'm going to relate;
And it is a pretty story
Which I am going to lay before ye.
That dame who singing there you see
Is a witch of this our Tuscany,
Who up and down the city flies,
Deceiving people with her lies,
Saying to one: The truth to tell,
I know you love your husband well;
But you will find, on close inspection,
Another has his fond affection.'
"In short, the imp, by changing his voice artfully, and singing his ribald songs everywhere, managed in the end to
persuade people that the fairy was no better than she should
be, and a common mischief-maker and disturber of domestic
peace. So the husbands, becoming jealous, began to quarrel
with their wives, and then to swear at the witch who led them
astray or put false suspicion into their minds.
"But it happened that the fairy was in high favour with a
great saint, and going to him, she told all her troubles and the
wicked things which were said of her, and besought him to
free her good name from the slanders which the imp of darkness had spread abroad (l'aveva chalugnato).
"Then the saint, very angry, changed the devil into a bronze
figure (mascherone, an architectural ornament), but first compelled him to go about to all who had been influenced by his
slanders, and undo the mischief which he had made, and finally
to make a full confession in public of everything, including his
designs on the beautiful fairy, and how he hoped by compromising her to lead her to share his fate.
"Truly the imp cut but a sorry figure when compelled to
thus stand up in the Old Market place at the corner of the
Palazzo Cavolaia before a vast multitude and avow all his dirty
little tricks; but he contrived withal to so artfully represent his
passionate love for the fairy, and to turn all his sins to that
account, that many had compassion on him, so that indeed
among the people, in time, no one ever spoke ill of the doappio
povero diavolo, or doubly poor devil, for they said he was to
be pitied since he had no love on earth and was shut out of
heaven.
"Nor did he quite lose his power, for it was said that after
he had been confined in the bronze image, if any one spoke
ill of him or said,'This is a devil, and as a devil he can never
enter Paradise,' then the imp would persecute that man with
IoN 
THE DEVIL OF THE MERCATO VECCHIO I105
strange voices and sounds until such time as the offender
should betake himself to the Palazzo della Cavolaia, and there,
standing before the bronze image, should ask his pardon.
"And if it pleased the Diavolino, he forgave them, and
they had peace; but if it did not, they were pursued by the
double mocking voice which made dialogue or sang duets
over all their sins and follies and disgraces. And whether
they stayed at home or went abroad, the voices were ever about
them, crying aloud or tittering and whispering or hissing, so
that they had no rest by day or night; and this is what befell
all who spoke ill of the Diavolino del Canto dei Diavoli."
The saint mentioned in this story was certainly Pietro
Martire or Peter the Martyrer, better deserving the name
of murderer, who, preaching at the very corner where
the bronze imp was afterwards placed, declared that he
beheld the devil, and promptly exorcised him.  There
can be little doubt that the image was placed there to
commemorate this probably "pious fraud."
It is only since I wrote all this that I learned that
there were formerly two of these devils, one having been
stolen not many years ago. This verifies to some extent
the consistency of the author of the legend, "The Devil
of the Mercato Vecchio," who says there were four.
There is a very amusing and curious trait of character
manifested in the conclusion of this story which might
escape the reader's attention were it not indicated. It
is the vindication of the " puir deil," and the very evident
desire to prove that he was led astray by love, and that
even the higher spirit could not take away all his power.
Here I recognise beyond all question the witch, the
fortune-teller and sorceress, who prefers Cain to Abel,
and sings invocations to the former, and to Diana as the
dark queen of the Strege, and always takes sides with
the heretic and sinner and magian and goblin. It is the
last working of the true spirit of ancient heathenism, for
the fortune-tellers, and especially those of the mountains,
all come of families who have been regarded as enemies 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
by the Church during all the Middle Ages, and who are
probably real and direct descendants of Canidia and her
contemporaries, for where this thing is in a family it
never dies out. I have a great many traditions in which
the hand of the heathen witch and the worship of" him
who has been wronged" and banished to darkness, is as
evident as it is here.
"Which  indeed seems to show," comments the learned
Flaxius, "that if the devil is never quite so black as he is
painted, yet, on the other hand, he is so far from being of a
pure white-as the jolly George Sand boys, such as Heine and
Co., thought-that it is hard to make him out of any lighter
hue than mud and verdigris mixed.  In m-edio lutissinius ibis.
'"is also to be especially noted, that in this legend-as in
Shelley's poem-the Devil appears as a meddling wretch
who is interested in small things, and above all, as given
to gossip:
"The Devil sat down in London town
Before earth's morning ray,
With a favourite imp he began to chat,
On religion, and scandal, and this and that,
Until the dawn of day."
Io6 
SEEING THAT ALL WAS RIGHT
A I,EGEND OF THE PORTA A SAN NICOLO
"God keep us from the devil's lackies,
Who are the aggravating jackies,
Who to the letter execute
An order and exactly do't,
Or else, with fancy free and bold,
Do twice as much as they are told,
And when reproved, cry bravely,'Oh!
I thought you'd like it so and so.'
From all such, wheresoe'er they be,
Libera nos, Domine! "
THE Porta a San Nicolo in Florence is, among other
legends, associated with a jest played by the famous Barlacchia on a friend, the story of which runs as follows:
"It is an old saying that la porta di dietro b quella che tuba
la casa (it is the back gate which robs a house), and it was
going back to the gate of San Nicolob which robbed a man of
all his patience. This man had gone with Barlacchia the
jester from Florence to Val d'Arno, and on returning they
had stopped in the plain of Ripolo, where the friend was
obliged to delay for a time, while Barlacchia went on. Now
it was so late that although Barlacchia was certain to reach
the Porto a San Nicolob in time to enter, it was doubtful
whether the one who came later could do so unless a word
should be spoken in advance to the guard, who for friendship
or a fee would sit up and let the late-comer in. Therefore the
friend said to the jester,'Di gr(atia facesse sostenere la porta''See that the gate is all right,' or that all is right at the bridge
-meaning. of course, that he should make it right with the
guardian to let him in.
"And when Barlacchia came to the gate, he indeed asked
the officer in charge se questi si sostengo-whether it was all
right, and if it stood firmly, and was in no danger of falling,
affirming that he was making special inquiry at request of a
o107 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
friend who was commissioner of the city gates and bridges,
and obtained a paper certifying that the gate was in excellent
condition, after which he went home.
"Trotting along on his mule came the friend, who, believing
that Barlacchia had made it all right with the guard, had not
hurried.  But he found it was all wrong, and that'a great
mistake had been made somewhere,' as the eel said when he
was thrown into boiling hot oil instead of cold water. For he
found the gate locked and nobody to let him in, so that in a
great rage he was obliged to go back to an inn which was distinguished for nothing but its badness, dove stetle con gran disagio
fuella notte (where he passed the night in great discomfort).
"And when morning came, he passed the gate, but stopped
and asked whether Barlacchia had been there the night
before. To which the guard answered,'Yes,' and that he
had been very particular in his inquiries as to whether the
doors were firm on their hinges, and if the foundations were
secure; on hearing which, the man saw that he had been sold,l
and going to the Piazza Signoria, and meeting Barlacchia,
gi disse rilevata zvillania, let him have abuse in bold relief
and large proportion, saying that it was infamous to snipe his
equal in all things and better in most, in such a low-flung
manner, unbecoming a half-grown chimney-sweep, and that if
he did not respect himself too much to use improper or strong
language, he would say that Barlacchia was a dastardly blackguard and a son of a priest. To which Barlacchia remonstrated that he had performed to perfection exactly what he
had promised to do, yea, a punto, to the very letter.
"Now by this time half Florence had assembled, and being
delighted beyond all measure at this racy dispute, insisted on
forming a street-court and settling the question alla fresca.
And when the evidence was taken, and all the facts, which
long in darkness lay, were brought full clearly to the light of
day, there was such a roaring of laughter and clapping of
hands that you would have sworn the Guelfs and Ghibellines
had got at it again full swing.   But the verdict was that
Barlacchia was acquitted without a stain on his character.
" Hcecfabula docet," comments Flaxius, "that there be others
besides Tyll Eulenspiegel who make mischief by fulfilling
laws too literally. And there are no people in this world who
contrive to break the Spirit of Christianity so much as those
who follow it simply to the Letter."
1 UTcellato, caught like a bird, or, as they say on the Mississippi, "sniped."
108 
THE ENCHANTED COW OF LA VIA
VACCHERECCIA
"On Dunmore heath I also slewe
A monstrous wild and cruell beaste
Called the Dun Cow of Dunmore plaine,
Who many people had opprest."
-Guy, Earl of Warwick.
THE Via Vacchereccia is a very short street leading from
the Signoria to the Via Por San Maria.   Vacchier-icia,
also Vacchiereccia, means a cow, and is also applied
scornfully to a bad woman. The following legend was
given to me as accounting for the name of the place.
A well-known Vienna beerhouse-restaurant, Gilli and
Letta's, has contributed much of late years to make this
street known, and it was on its site that, at some time in
" the fabled past," the building stood in which dwelt the
witch who figures in the story.
LA VIA VACCHERECCIA.
"There lived long ago in the Via Vacchereccia a poor girl,
who was, however, so beautiful and graceful, and sweet in her
manner, that it seemed to be a marvel that she belonged to
the people, and still more that she was the daughter of the
woman who was believed to be her mother, for the latter was
as ugly as she was wicked, brutal, and cruel before all the
world, and a witch in secret, a creature without heart or
humanity.
"Nor was the beautiful Artemisia-such being the name of
the girl-in reality her daughter, for the old woman had stolen
her from her parents, who were noble and wealthy, when she
was a babe, and had brought her up, hoping that when grown
she could make money out of her in some evil way, and live
lo9 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
upon her. But, as sometimes happens, it seemed as if some
benevolent power watched over the poor child, for all the evil
words and worse example of the witch had no effect on her
whatever.
"Now it happened that Artemisia in time attracted the
attention and love of a young gentleman, who, while of moderate estate, was by no means rich; and he had learned to
know her through his mother, an admirable lady, who had
often employed Artemisia, and been impressed by her beauty
and goodness. So it happened that the mother favoured the
son's suit, and as Artemisia loved the young man, it seemed
as if her sufferings would soon be at an end, for be it observed
that the witch treated the maid at all times with extraordinary
cruelty.
"But it did not suit the views of the old woman at all
that the girl on whom she reckoned to bring in much money
from great protectors, and whom she was wont to call the
cow from whom she would yet draw support, should settle
down into the wife of a small noble of moderate means. So
she not only scornfully rejected the suit, but scolded and beat
Artemisia with even greater wickedness than ever.
"But there are times when the gentlest natures (especially
when supported by good principles and truly good blood)
will not give way to any oppression, however cruel, and
Artemisia, feeling keenly that the marriage was most advantageous for her, and a great honour, and that her whole heart
had been wisely given, for once turned on the old woman and
defied her, threatening to appeal to the law, and showing that
she knew so much that was wicked in her life that the witch
became as much frightened as she was enraged, well knowing
that an investigation by justice would bring her to the bonfire.
So, inspired by the devil, she turned the girl into a cow, and
shut her up in a stable in the courtyard of the house, where
she went every day two or three times to beat and torture her
victim in the most fiendish manner.
"Meanwhile the disappearance of Artemisia had excited
much talk and suspicion, as it followed immediately after the
refusal of the old woman to give her daughter to the young
gentleman.  And he indeed was in sad case and great suffering,
but after a while, recovering himself, he began to wonder whether
the maid was not after all confined in the Via Vacchereccia.
And as love doubles all our senses and makes the deaf hear
and, according to the proverb,'he who finds it in his heart
II0 
THE ENCHANTED COW
will feel spurs in his flanks,' so this young man, hearing the
old woman spoken of as a witch, began to wonder whether
she might not be one in truth, and whether Artemisia might
not have been confinata or enchanted into some form of an
animal, and so imprisoned.
"And, full of this thought, he went by night to the house,
where there was an opening like a window or portal in the
courtyard, and began to sing:
"' Batte le dodici a una campana,
Si sente appena dalla lontana.
"'Se almeno la voce potessi sentire,
Della mia bella che tanto deve soffrire.'
"' Midnight is striking, I hear it afar,
High in the heaven shines many a star.
"'And oh that the voice of the one I could hear,
Who suffers so sadly-the love I hold dear.
"' Oh stars, if you're looking with pity on me,
I pray you the maid from affliction to free!'
"As he sang this, he heard a cow lowing in the courtyard,
and as his mind was full of the idea of enchantment, his
attention was attracted to it. Then he sang:
"' If enchanted here you be,
Low, but gently, one, two, three I
Low in answer unto me,
And a rescue soon you'll see.'
"Then the cow lowed three times, very softly, and the
young man, delighted, put to her other questions, and being
very shrewd, he so managed it as to extract with only yea and
nay all the story. Having learned all this, he reflected that
to beat a terrier'tis well to take a bulldog, and after much
inquiry, he found that there dwelt in Arezzo a great sorcerer,
but a man of noble character, and was, moreover, astonished
to learn from his mother that this gran mago had been a
friend of his father.
"And being well received by the wise man, and having told
his story, the sage replied:
"' Evil indeed is the woman of whom you speak-a black
witch of low degree, who has been allowed, as all of her kind
are, to complete her measure of sin, in order that she may
receive her full measure of punishment. For all things may
I 11 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
be forgiven, but not cruelty, and she has lived on the sufferings
of others. Yet her power is of a petty kind, and such as any
priest can crush.
"'Go to the stable when she shall be absent, and I will
provide that she shall be away all to-morrow. Then bind
verbena on the cow's horns, and hang a crucifix over the
door, and sprinkle all the floor with holy water and incense,
and sing to the cow:
"  The witch is not thy mother in truth,
She stole thee in thy early youth,
She has deserved thy bitterest hate,
Then fear not to retaliate;
And when she comes to thee again,
Then rush at her with might and main;
She has heaped on thee many a scorn,
Repay it with thy pointed horn.'
"' And note that there is a halter on the cow's neck, and
this is the charm which gives her the form of a cow, but it
cannot be removed except in a church by the priest.'
"And to this he added other advice, which was duly followed.
"Then the next day the young man went to the stable, and
did all that the wise man had bid, and hiding near, awaited
the return of the witch. Nor had he indeed long to wait, for
the witch, who was evidently in a great rage at something, and
bore a cruel-looking stick with an iron goad on the end,
rushed to the courtyard and into the stable, but fell flat on the
floor, being overcome by the holy water. And the cow, whose
halter had been untied from the post, turned on her with fury,
and tossed and gored her, and trampled on her till she was
senseless, and then ran full speed, guided by the young man,
to the Baptistery, into which she entered, and where there
was a priest awaiting her. And the priest sprinkled her with
holy water, and took the halter from her neck, and she was
disenchanted, and became once more the beautiful Artemisia.
"And this done, the young man took the halter, and hurrying
back to the stable, put it about the neck of the witch, who at
once became a cow without horns, or such as are called' the
devil's own.' And as she, maddened with rage, rushed forth,
attacking everybody, all the town was soon after her with
staves, pikes, and all their dogs, and so they hunted her down
through the Uffizzi and along Lung' Arno, all roaring and
screaming and barking, out into the country, for she gave them
a long run and a good chase, till they came to a gate of a
112 
THE ENCHANTED COW
podere, over which was a Saint Antony, who, indignant that
she dared pass under him, descended from his niche, and
gave her a tremendous blow with his staff between the horns,
or where they would have been if she had possessed them.
Whereupon the earth opened and swallowed her up, amid a
fearful flashing of fire, and a smell which was even worse than
that of the streets of Siena in summer-time-which is often so
fearful that the poorer natives commonly carry fennel (as
people do perfumed vinaigrettes in other places) to sniff at,
as a relief from the horrible odour.
"And when all this was done, the vlago revealed to the
maiden that her parents, who were still living, were very great
and wealthy people, so that there was soon a grand reunion, a
general recognition, and a happy marriage.
"'Maidens, beware lest witches catch you;
Think of the Via Vacchereccia;
And tourists dining in the same,
Note how the street once got its name."'
ii
I13 
THE WITCH OF THE PORTA ALLA CROCE
"If any secret should sacred be,
Though it guarded the life of a family,
And any woman be there alout,
She will die but what she will find it out;
And though it hurried her soul to-well That secret she must immediately tell."
-Sage Stuffigfor Young Ducks.
THERE are in Italy, as elsewhere, families to whom a
fatality or tradition is attached. The following is a curious
legend of the kind:
LA FATTUCHIERA DELLA PORTA ALLA CROCE.
"There was a very old Florentine family which lived in a
castle in the country. The elder or head of this family had
always one room in which no one was ever allowed to enter.
There he passed hours alone every day, and woe to any one
who dared disturb him while there. And this had been the
case for generations, and no one had ever found out what the
secret was. This was, of course, a great vexation to the ladies
of the family-perche la donna e semire churiosa-women being
always inquisitive.
"And most inquisitive of all was a niece of the old man,
who had got it into her head that the secret was simply a great
treasure which she might obtain. Therefore she resolved to
consult with a certain witch, who would tell her what it was,
and how she could enter the mysterious room. This sorceress
lived hard by the Porta alla Croce, for there are always many
witches in that quarter.
"The witch, who was a very large tall woman, made the
niece go with her to an isolated small house, and thence along
a path, the lady in advance. While so doing, the latter turned
her head to look behind her, and at that instant heard the cry
of a civetta or small owl. The witch exclaimed,'My dear
II4 
THE WITCH OF THE PORTA,ALLA CROCE  I'5
lady, what you wish for will hardly be granted; I fear there
is a great disaster awaiting you.'
"Then they went into a field, and the fortune-teller produced
a goblet of coloured glass, and called to the swallow, which is
a bird of good omen, and to the small owl, which forebodes
evil, and said,'Whichever shall alight first on the edge of this
cup will be a sign to you of success or failure.'
"But the first which came and sat upon the cup was the owl.
"Then the witch said,'What  there is in that room  I
cannot reveal, for it disturbs my soul far too much. But
I know that the number of that room is thirteen, and you can
infer for yourself what that portends; and more I cannot tell
you, save that you should be extremely careful and keep a
cheerful heart - otherwise there is great trouble awaiting
you.'
"But the lady returned home in a great rage at her disappointment, and all the more resolved to enter the room.
Then all the family finding this out, reproached her, and urged
her not to be so distracted; and she, being obstinate, only
became the more determined; for she was furious that she
could not force an old man to reveal a secret which had
been handed down for many generations, and which could
only be confided to one, or to the eldest, when the old man
should die.
"And at last her evil will or mania attained such command
over her, that she resolved to kill all the family one by one,
till the succession of the secret should come to her. And so,
after boiling deadly herbs with care, she made a strong subtle
poison. And by this means she put to death her parents,
brothers and sisters, aunts and all the family, without remorse,
so resolved was she to master the secret.
"The last to perish was her grandfather, and calling her to
his bedside he said,' We have all died by thy hand; we who
never did thee any harm; and thou hast felt no remorse.
This thou didst to gain a treasure, and bitterly wilt thou be
disappointed. Thy punishment will begin when thou shalt
learn what the thing was so long hidden; truly there was
sorrow enough therein, without the misery which thou hast
added to it. That which thou wilt find in the chamber is a
skull-the skull of our earliest ancestor, which must always be
given to the care of the eldest descendant, and I now give it
to thee. And this thou must do. Go every morning at seven
o'clock into the room and close the windows.   Then light
I 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
four candles before the skull.  In front of it there lies a great
book in which is written the history of all our family, my life
and thine; and see that thou do this with care, or woe be
unto thee!'
"Therewith the old man died, and scarcely had he departed
ere she called an old woman who was allied and devoted to
the family, and in a rage told her all the secret. The old
woman reproved her, saying that she would bring punishment
on herself. But, without heeding this, the lady ran to the
chamber, entered, and seeing the skull, gave it a kick and
hurled it from the window, far below.
"But a minute after she heard a rattling sound, and looking
at the window, there the skull was grinning at her. Again she
threw it down, and again it returned, and was with her wherever
she went; day after day, waking or sleeping, the skull was
always before her eyes.
"At last fear came over her, and then horror, and she said
to the old woman,'Let us go to some place far, far away, and
bury the skull. Perhaps it will rest in its grave.' The old
woman tried to dissuade her, and they went to a lonely spot
at a great distance, and there they dug long and deep.
"Dug till a great hole was made, and the lady standing on
the edge dropped the skull into it. Then the hole spread into
a great pit, flame rose from it-the edge crumbled away-the
guilty woman fell into the fire, and the earth closed over it
all, and there was no trace left of her.
"The skull returned to the castle and to its room; people
say it is there to this day. The old woman returned too, and
being the last remote relation, entered into possession of the
property."
There is perhaps not one well-educated person in society
in England who has not had the opportunity to remark
how very much any old family can succeed in being
notorious if it can only once make it known that it has
an hereditary secret. Novels will be written on it, every
member of it will be pointed out everywhere, and people
who do not know the name of a sovereign in Europe can
tell you all about it and them. And the number is not
small of those who consider themselves immensely greater
because they have in some way mastered something which
II6 
THE WITCH OF THE PORTA ALLA CROCE II7
they are expected to keep concealed. I could almost
believe that this "'orrible tale" was composed as a satire
on family secrets. But I believe that she who told it
firmly believed it. Credo quia absurdumn would not be
well understood among humble folk in Italy.
"To this I may add," writes Flaxius, "that there is an
English legend of a certain skull which always returned to a
certain window in a tower. Apropos of which there is a poem
called The Student and the Ilead in' Hans Breitmann in Germany' (London: T. Fisher Unwin, i895), prefaced by a
remark to the effect that the subject is so extensive as to
deserve a book-instancing the head of the physician Douban
in the'Arabian Nights,' with that of Orpheus, which spoke to
Cyrus, and that of the priest of Jupiter, and another described
by Trallianus, and the marvellously preserved head of a saint
in Olaf Tryggvason's Saga, and the Witch's Head of Rider
Haggard, with many more, not to speak of the talking Teraphim heads, and Friar Bacon's bust. With which a thoroughly
exhaustive list should include the caput rmortuum of the
alchemists
"' And the dead-heads of the Press."' 
THE COLUMN OF COSIMO, OR DELLA
SANTA TRINITA
"Columna Florentina.-Prope Sanctae Trinitatis aedem ingens et sublimis
columna erecta, cujus in fastigio extat justitia.   Earn erexit Cosmus
Magnus Dux, cui per urbem deambl)ulanti, illic de victoria renunciatum
fuit quam Malignani Marchio in Senarum finibus anno I555 contra Petrum
Strozium obtinuit." —7Ye'plui Ariaturce Historicuni, Darmstadt, i6iI.
"Vesti una Colonna,
Le par una donna."-Italian Proverbh
THE central spot of Florence is the grand column of granite
which stands in the middle of the Piazza di Santa Trinit&, in
the Via Tornabuoni, opposite the Palazzo Feroni. It was
brought from the Baths of Caracalla in Rome, and erected in
1564 by Cosimo I., "in commemoration of the surrender of
Siena in'554, and of the destruction of the last liberties of
Florence by the victory at Monte Murlo, 1537, over those
whom his tyranny had driven into exile, headed by Filippo
and Piero Strozzi.  It is surmounted by a statue of'Justice'
in porphyry, by Ferruci," says Murray's Guide-Book-the
Italian declares it to be by Taddi, adding that the column
was from the Baths of Antoninus, and was a gift to Cosimo I.
from Pius IV.
There is a popular legend that once on a time a poor girl
was arrested in Florence for having stolen a chain, a bracelet,
or some such article of jewellery of immense value. She was
thrown into prison, but though there was collateral or indirect
evidence to prove her guilt, the stolen article could not be
found. Gossip and rumour constituted ample grounds for
indictment and trial, and torture did the rest in the pious
times when it was generally taught and believed that Providence would always rescue the innocent, and that everybody
who came to grief on the gallows had deserved it for something or other at some time, and that it was all right.
So the girl was executed, and almost forgotten.  When a
long time after, some workman or other was sent up to the
1x8 
THE COLUMN OF COSIMO
top of the column of the Piazza Trinith, and there found that
a jackdaw or magpie had built a nest in the balance or scales
held by Justice, and in it was the missing jewel.
This is an Italian form of "The Maid and the Magpie,"
known the world over from ancient times. The scales suggest
a droll German story. There was in front of a certain palace
or town-hall, where all criminals were tried, a statue of Justice
holding a pair of scales, and these were not cast solid, but
were a bond fide pair of balances. And certain low thieves
having been arrested with booty-whatever it was-it was
discovered that they had divided it among themselves very
accurately, even to the ounce. At which the magistrate greatly
marvelling, asked them how they could have done it so well,
since it had appeared that they had not been in any house
between the period of the theft and their arrest. Whereupon
one replied: "Very easily, your Honour, for, to be honourable,
honest, and just as possible, we weighed the goods in the
scales of Justice itself, here on the front of the l,ath-haus."
It is for every reason more probable that the bird which
stole the jewel of the column was a jackdaw than a magpie,
and it is certainly fitter that it should have been thus in
Florence. "It is well known," says Oken in his "Natural
History" (7 B. Part I. 347), "that the jackdaw steals glittering
objects, and carries them to its nest." Hence the ancient
legend of Arne, who so greatly loved gold, that she sold her
native isle Siphnos to Minos, and was for that turned by the
gods into a daw (Ovid's "Metamorphoses," vii. 466). As a
mischief-making, thieving, and chattering bird of black colour,
the jackdaw was naturally considered evil, and witches, or
their imps, often assumed its form. In fact, the only really
good or pious bird of the kind on record known to me, is the
jackdaw of Rheims sung by Ingoldsby Barham.
According to Kornmannus, the column was placed where it
now stands, because Cosimo was in the Piazza Trinith when
he heard the news of the surrender of Siena.
After I had written the foregoing legend, I found the
following:
LA COLONNA DI SANTA TRINITX.
"The pillar di Santa Trinith was in old times a meetingplace for fairies (Fate), whither they went afoot or in their
I I9
f, 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
carriages. At the base of the column there was a great stone,
and there they exchanged greetings or consulted about their
affairs.   They were all great ladies, of kindly disposition.
And when it came that any one was cast into the city prison,
they inquired into the affair, and then a fate would go as a
magistrate in disguise and question the accused. Now they
always knew whether any one spoke the truth, and if the
prisoner did so, and was deserving mercy, they delivered him;
but if he lied, they left him to be hanged, with a buon Aro vi
faccia!-Much good may it do you!
"Of evenings they assembled round the rock at the foot of
the column in a great company, and had great merriment and
love-making. Then in the crowd a couple would descend, or
one after another into their vaults below, and then come again,
often taking with them mortals who were their friends or
favourites.
"Their chief was a matron who always held a pair of scales.
Now when they were to judge the fate of any one, they took
with great care the earth from one of his footprints, and
weighed it most scrupulously, for thereby they could tell
whether in his life he had done more good or evil, and it was
thus that they settled the fate of all the accused in the prisons.
"And it often came to pass that when prisoners were young
and handsome, these fate or fairy-witches took them from
their cells in the prison through subterranean ways to their
vaults under the Trinith, and passed the time merrily enough,
for all was magnificent there.
"But woe unto those, no matter how handsome they might
be, who betrayed the secrets and the love of thefite.  Verily
they had their reward, and a fine long repentance with it, for
they were all turned into cats or mice, and condemned to live
in the cellars and subterranean passages of the old Ghetto,
which is now destroyed-and a nasty place it was. In its time
people often wondered that there were so miany cats there,
but the truth is that they were all people who had been
enchanted by those who were called in olden time le Gran
Dame di Firenze-the Great Ladies of Florence.
"And the image holding the scales is called la Giustizia,
but it really represents the Matrona, or Queen of the Fate, who
of old exercised such strict justice with her scales in Florence."
This is, I am confident, a tradition of great antiquity,
for all its elements are of a very ancient or singularly
120
I 
THE COLUMN OF COSIMO
witch-like nature. In it the fate are found in their most
natural form, as fates, weighing justice and dealing out
rewards and punishments. Justice herself appears naively
and amusingly to the witches as Queen of the Fate, who
are indeed all spirits who have been good witches in a
previous life.
What is most mystical and peculiarly classic Italian
is the belief that the earth on which a human being
has trod can be used wherewith to conjure him. This
subject is treated elsewhere in my "Etruscan Roman
Traditions."
The great stone at the base of the column was a kind
of palladium of the city of Florence.   There are brief
notices of it in many works. It would be curious if it
still exists somewhere and can be identified.
"A great palladium, whose virtues lie
In undefined remote antiquity;
A god unformed, who sleeps within a stone,
Which sculptor's hand as yet has never known;
Brought in past ages from some unknown shore;
Our fathers worshipped it-we know no more."
I21 
LEGENDS OF OR' SAN MICHELE
" The spirit of Antiquity, enshrined
In sumptuous buildings, vocal in sweet song,
In pictures speaking with heroic tongue,
And with devout solemnities entwined."
-WORDSWORTH,  " Bruiges."
OR' SAN MICHELE is a very beautiful church in the Italian
Gothic style in the Via Calzaioli.   It was originally a
market or stable below and a barn or granary above,
whence  some derive its name  from  Horreum  Sancti
Michiaelis, and others from the Italian Orto, a garden, a
term also applied to a church-congregation.  "The statues
and decorations on the exterior are among the best productions of the Florentine school of sculpture." As that
of Saint Eloy or San Eligio, the blacksmith, with great
pincers at an anvil, in a sculpture representing a horse
being shod, is the most conspicuous on the fatade, the
people have naturally concluded  that the church was
originally a stable or smithy. The legend of the place is
as follows:
ILA CHIESA OR' SAN MICHELE.
"This was originally a stable and coach-house (rimnessa), and
there was a hayloft above.   Every night the horses were
heard to neigh, and in the morning they were found all curried
and well managed, and no one knew who did it; but none of
the grooms ever shed any tears over it that ever I heard of.
"Now, the master of the place had a son, a priest named
Michele, who was so holy that he worked many miracles, so
that all began to call him a saint. And after he died he
appeared to his parents in a dream, and told them that the
stable and barn should be transformed into a church, and that
he would read mass therein thrice a day.
I22 
LEGENDS OF OR' SAN MICHELE
"But his parents wished to have him buried under the altar
of a church which was on their estate in the country, but the
saint did not wish to be buried there.
"One day one of the grooms of the stable found that a horse
could not move a foot, so he ran to call the manescalco, or
blacksmith, who led the horse to his forge. And when he took
the hoof to examine it, lo! it came off at the joint and remained
in his hand. Then the smith said that the horse should be
killed, because he was now worthless. But the horse struck
his stump on the hoof, and the latter joined itself to his leg as
firmly as ever it had been. But in doing this the old shoe fell
off, whence it comes to this day that whoever finds an old
horse-shoe gets luck with it.
"When the smith had shod the horse anew, he tried to lead
it back into the stable, but it refused to enter. Then it was
plain that this was a miracle worked by San Michele. So they
removed all the horses and hay from the building, and made
of it the fine church which is now called La Chiesa di Or' San
Jfichele."
There is a vast mass of tradition extant relative to the
Horse, enough to make a large volume, and in it there is a
great deal which is so nearly allied to this story as to
establish its antiquity. Karl Blind has found an old Norse
spell, in which, by the aid of Balder and Odin, the lameness
of a horse's ankle or pastern joint can be cured. There is
another version of this story, which runs as follows:
THE SMITH AND SAINT PETER.
"It is a good thing in this world to be bold and have a good
opinion of one's self; yes, and to hold your head high-but
not so high as to bend over backwards-else that may happen
to you which befell the celebrated cock of Aspromonte."
"And what happened to him?"
"Only this, Signore-he was so cocky, and bent his head
so far backwards, that his spurs ran into his eyes and blinded
him. Now, the cock reminds me of Saint Peter, and too much
cheek of the ferrajo spacciato, or the saucy smith, who wanted
to equal him.
"It happened once that the Lord and Saint Peter came to
123 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
a forge, and the smith was about to lead a horse from the stable
to the anvil to shoe him. Saint Peter said:
"'Thou hast boasted that thou art the best smith in the
world, and canst work such wonders in shoeing as man never
beheld. Canst thou not shoe this horse without taking him
to the forge?'
"'Neither thou, nor I, nor any man  can do it,' replied the
smith.
"Saint Peter took the hoof in his left hand, gave it a rap
with the side of his right across the joint, and the hoof fell off.
Then Saint Peter carried it to the anvil, fastened a new shoe
on it, returned and put it on the horse again, who stamped
with it as if nothing had happened.
"Now the smith, like all boasters, was a great fool, and he
only thought that this was something which he had not learned
before, and so cried boldly,'Oh, that is only the Bolognese
manner of taking hoofs off and putting them on-we do it
much better here in Florence!' So he seized the horse's hoof,
and with one blow of a hatchet cut it off.
"' And now put it on again,' said Saint Peter. The smith
tried, but it would not stick.
"'The horse is bleeding to death rapidly,' remarked the Saint.
"'I believe,' said the smith ruefully,'that I am a fool in
folio.'
"' IPi   matto che un granchio-as crazy as a crawfish,'
solemnly added one of his assistants.
"' Pazzo a bandiera-as wild and witless as a flapping flag,'
quoth another.
"'fIMatto di sette cotte-an idiot seven times baked,' chimed
in Saint Peter.
"' A campanile-a church bell-tower of a fool,' contributed
his wife, who had just come in.
"The poor horse continued to bleed.
"' You are like the mouse,' added a neighbour,' who thought
because he had dipped the end of his tail in the meal, that he
owned and could run the mill.'
"' The Florentine method of shoeing horses,' remarked Saint
Peter gravely,'does not appear to be invariably successful. I
think that we had better recur to mine.' And with this he put
the hoof to the ankle, and presto! the miracle was wrought again.
That is the story. In most cases, Signore, un pazzo gitta una
piefra nelpozzo-a fool rolls a rock into a well which it requires
a hundred wise men to get out again. This time a single sage
I24 
LEGENDS OF OR' SAN MICHELE
sufficed. But for that you must have the Lord at your back, as
Saint Peter had."
"Why do they say, as foolish as a crawfish or lobster?"
I inquired.
"Because, Signore, the granchio, be he lobster or crawfish,
carries his head in the scarsella, which is a hole in his belly.
Men who have their brains in their bellies-or gluttons-are
generally foolish. But what is the use of boasting of our
wisdom? He who has neither poor men nor fools among his
relations was born of the lightning or of thunder."
There is another story current among the people,
though it is in print, but as it is a merry one, belonging
truly enough to the folk-lore of Florence, I give it as it
runs:
"You have heard of Piovano Arlotto, who made this our
town so lively long ago. It was rich then, indeed. There are
more flowers than florins in Florence now: ogni fior non fa
frutto-all flowers do not bear fruit.
"Well, it happened one day that Piovano, having heard a
good story from Piero di Cosimo de' Medicis, answered with
another. Now the tale which Messer Piero di Cosimo told
was this:
"Once  there lived in Florence a poor shoemaker, who
went every morning to the Church of San Michele Berteldi
-some say it was at San Bartolommeo, and maybe at both,
for a good story or a big lie is at home anywhere.
"Well, he used to pray before a John the Baptist in wood,
or it may have been cast in plaster, or moulded in wax, which
was on the altar. One morning he prayed scalding hot, and
the chierico-a boy who waits on the priest, who was a young
rascal, like all of his kind-overheard him say:'Oh, Saint
John, I pray thee make known to me two things. One is
whether my wife is good and true to me, and the other what
will become of my only son.'
"Then the mass-boy, who had hidden himself behind the
altar, replied in a soft, slow, strange voice:'Know, my son,
that because thou hast long been so devout to me, thou shalt
be listened unto.  Return hither to-morrow, and thou wilt be
answered; and now go in peace.'
"And the shoemaker, having heard this, verily believed that
Saint John had spoken to him, and went his way with great
I25 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
rejoicing. So, bright and early the next morning, he was in
the church, and said:'Saint John, I await thy reply.'
"Then the mass-boy, who was hidden as before, replied:
'Oh, my son, I am sorry to say that thy wife is no better than
she should be-ha fatlo fallo con pit d'uno-and everybody in
Florence except thee knows it.'
"'And my son?' gasped the shoemaker.
"' Be will be hung,' replied the voice.
"The shoemaker rose and departed abruptly. In the middle
of the church he paused, and, without a sign of the cross, and
putting on his cap, he cried:' What sort of a Saint John are
you, anyhow?'
"' Saint John the Baptist,' replied the voice.
"'Sia col malanno e con la mala Pasque che Jddio ti dia!
Then may the Lord give you a bad year and a miserable
Easter-tide! You never utter aught save evil, and it was for
thy evil tongue that Herod cut thy head off-and served thee
right!  I do not believe a word of all which thou hast told me.
I have been coming here every day for twenty-five years, and
never asked thee for anything before; but I will make one
more vow to thee, and that is-never to see thy face again.'
"And when Messer Cosimo had ended, Piovano Arlotto
replied:
"'One good turn deserves another.   It is not many years
ago since a poorfarsettajo, or doublet-maker, lived in Florence,
his shop being close to the Oratorio di Orto San Michele,'
and every morning he went to worship in the church, and lit
a candle before a picture representing Christ as a child disputing with the Doctors, while his mother enters seeking him.
"'And after he had done this daily for more than twentyfive years, it happened that his little son, while looking on at a
game of ball, had a tile fall on his head, which wounded him
terribly. The doctors being called in, despaired.
"'The next morning the poor tailor went to his devotions
in Or' San Michele, bearing this time, instead of a farthing
taper, a great wax-candle; and kneeling, he spoke thus:
"Dolce Signor nijo Gesu Cristo, I beg thee to restore my son
to health. Thou knowest that I have worshipped thee here
for twenty-five years, and never asked for anything before, and
thou thyself can best bear witness to it. This my son is all
my happiness on earth, and he was also most devoted to thee.
1 The reader may observe that these popular names of Oratorio and
Orto are most likely to have given the prefix Or'.
I26 
LEGENDS OF OR' SAN MICHELE
Should he be taken away, I would die in despair, and so I
commend myself to thee!"
"' Then he departed, and coming home, learned that his son
had died.
"'The next morning, in grief and anger, he entered Orto
San Michele, and, without any candle, he went directly to the
picture, and, without kneeling, broke forth in these words:
" o ti disgrazio-I dislike, disown, and despise thee, and will
return here no more. Five-and-twenty years have I worshipped
thee, and never asked for anything before, and now thou dost
refuse me my request. If I had only gone to the great crucifix
there, I daresay I should have got all I wanted; but this is
what comes of trusting to a mere child, for, as the proverb
says, Chi s'imipaccia con fanciull, con fanciulli si ritrova-he
who troubles himself with children will himself be treated as
a child."'
It is worth remarking, as regards the tone and character
of this tale, that such freedom was commonest when
people were most devout. The most sceptical critics
generally agree that these stories of Piovano Arlotto are
authentic, having been dictated by him, and that he had
a very exceptional character in his age for morality,
honesty, and truth. He himself declared, without being
contradicted, that he was the only priest of whom he
knew who did not keep a mistress; and yet this story is
simply an average specimen of the two hundred connected
with his name, and that they in turn are identical in
character with all the popular wit and humour of the
time.
Regarding the image of the Holy Blacksmith, Saint
Eligius    or Eloi, the authors of "Walks in Florence" say
that it is attributed to Nanni di Banco, and is meagre and
stiff, but has dignity, which accords admirably with the
character of most saints, or their ideals. It is evident
that the bon roi Dagobert was considered as the type of
all that was free and easy
"Le bon roi Dagobert
Mettait son culotte a l'envers."
I:7 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
Therefore he is contrasted with the very dignified Saint
Eloy, who was (like the breeches) quite the reverse, declining to lend the monarch two sous, which Dagobert had
ascertained were in the holy man's possession. "The
bas-relief below," continue the critics cited, "is more
certainly by the hand of Nanni. It records a miracle of
Saint Eloy, who one day, when shoeing a restive horse
which was possessed by a demon, and was kicking and
plunging, cut off the animal's leg to fasten the shoe, and
having completed his task, made the sign of the cross and
restored the severed limb." I regret to say that this was
written without careful reference to the original. It was
not the leg of the horse which was severed, nor a limb,
but only the hoof at the pastern joint.
There is yet another explanation of this bas-relief,
which I have somewhere read, but cannot now recallmore's the pity, because it is the true one, as I remember,
and one accounting for the presence of the female saint
who is standing by, evidently invisibly. Perhaps some
reader who knows Number Four will send it to me for a
next edition.
It is worth noting that there is in Innsbruck, on the left
bank of the Inn, a blacksmith's shop, on the front of which
is a very interesting bas-relief of the fourteenth or fifteenth
century, representing Saint Peter or Eligius with the
horse in a smithy.
There is another statue on the exterior of this church,
that of Saint Philip, by the sculptor Nanni de Banco, concerning which and whom I find an anecdote in the Facetie
Diverse, A.D. 1636:
"Now, it befell in adorning the church of Or' San Michele
in Florence, that 1 Consoli d'Arte (Art Directors of Florence)
wanting a certain statue, wished to have it executed by
Donatello, a most excellent sculptor; but as he asked fifty
scudi, which was indeed a very moderate price for such statues
as he made, they, thinking it too dear, refused him, and gave it
128 
LEGENDS OF OR' SAN MICHELE
to a sculptor mediocre e mulo-indifferent and mongrel-who
had been a pupil of Donatello; nor did they ask him the price,
supposing it would be, of course, less. Who, having done his
best, asked for the work eighty scudi. Then the Directors in
anger explained to him that Donatello, a first-class sculptor, had
only asked fifty; but as he refused to abate a single fuattrino,
saying that he would rather keep the statue, the question was
referred to Donatello himself, who at once said they should
pay the man seventy scudi. But when they reminded him that
he himself had only asked fifty, he very courteously replied,
'Certainly, and being a master of the art, I should have executed it in less than a month, but that poor fellow, who was
hardly fit to be my pupil, has been more than half a year
making it.'
"By which shrewd argument he not only reproached them
for their meanness and his rival for incapacity, but also vindicated himself as an artist.'"
This is the story as popularly known. In it Nanni is
called Giovanni, and it is not true that he was an unworthy, inferior sculptor, for he was truly great. There
is another legend of Or' San Michele, which is thus given
by Pascarel, who, however, like most writers on Florence,
i     s      so extravagantly splendid or "gushing" in his description of everything, that untravelled readers who peruse his
pages in good faith must needs believe that in every
church and palazzo there is a degree of picturesque magnificence, compared to which the Pandemonium of Milton,
or even the Celestial City itself as seen by Saint John, is
a mere cheap Dissenting chapel. According to him, Or'
San Michele is by right "a world's wonder, and a gift so
perfect to the whole world, that, passing it, one should
need say (or be compelled to pronounce) a prayer for
Taddeo's soul." Which is like the dentist in Paris, who
proclaimed in I847 that it was
"Presque une crime
De ne pas crier,' Vive Fattet!'"
The legend, as told by this writer, and cited by Hare,
is as follows:
x29 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"Surely nowhere in the world is the rugged, changeless,
mountain force of hewn stone piled against the sky, and the
luxuriant, dream-like poetic delicacy of stone carven and shaped
into leafage and loveliness, more perfectly blended and made
one than where San Michele rises out of the dim, manycoloured, twisting streets, in its mass of ebon darkness and of
silvery light.
"The other day, under the walls of it, I stood and looked
at its Saint George, where he leans upon his shield, so calm,
so young, with his bared head and his quiet eyes.
"'That is our Donatello's,' said a Florentine beside mea man of the people, who drove a horse for hire in the public
ways, and who paused, cracking his whip, to tell this tale to
me.'Donatello did that, and it killed him. Do you not
know? When he had done that Saint George he showed it to
his master. And the master said, "It wants one thing only."
Now this saying our Donatello took gravely to heart, chiefly
because his master would never explain where the fault lay;
and so much did it hurt him, that he fell ill of it, and came
nigh to death. Then he called his master to him. "Dear and
great one, do tell me before I die," he said, "what is the one
thing my statue lacks?"  The master smiled and said: "Only
speech." "Then I die happy," said our Donatello. And hedied-indeed, that hour.'
"Now I cannot say that the pretty story is true-it is not
in the least true; Donatello died when he was eighty-three, in
the Street of the Melon, and it was he himself who cried,
'Speak then-speak' to his statue, as it was carried through
the city.  But whether true or false, this fact is surely true,
that it is well-nobly and purely well-with a people when
the men amongst it who ply for hire on its public ways think
caressingly of a sculptor dead five hundred years ago, and
tell such a tale, standing idly in the noonday sun, feeling the
beauty and the pathos of it all."
Truly, in a town half of whose income is derived from
art-hunting tourists, and where every vagabond offers
himself, in consequence, as a cicerone, it is no sign that
"all is well - nobly and purely well-with a people,"
because a coachman who had been asked which was
Donatello's Saint George by about five hundred English
"fares," and nearly as many American young ladies-of
I30 
LEGENDS OF OR' SAN MICHELE
whom many of the latter told him all they knew about
it-should have picked up such a tale. In fact, while I
have been amazed at the incredible amount of legend,
superstitious traditions, and incantations existing among
the people, I have been struck by their great ignorance
of art, and all pertaining to it; of which, were it worth
while, I could cite convincing and amusing instances.
"But as regards a vast proportion of the'sweet and light'
writing on the Renaissance and on Italy which is at present
fashionable," writes Flaxius, "I am reminded of the'esthetic
axe'ems' of an American writer, the first of which were:
"'Art is a big thing.  Always bust into teers wen you see
a pictur.'
"' Bildins and churches arn't of no account unless they drive
you clean out of your census.'"
13I 
THE WITCH OF THE ARNO
" I1 spirito usci dal flume a un tratto,
E venne come Dio l'aveva fatto,
E presentando come un cortegiano
Alla donna gentil la destra mano,
'Scusate,' disse si io vengo avanti
E se vi do la mano sensa guanti."-Paraiii.
THE following, as a French book of fables says, is "a
poem, or rather prose rhymed:"
"Two pretty maids one morning sat by the rushing stream.
It murmured glittering in the sun; it seemed to sing as on it
run, enchanting while a wantoning, as in a merry dream.
"Said one unto the other:'I wish, and all in truth, that the
glorious dancing river were as fine and brave a youth. Its
voice is like an angel's, its drops of light like eyes so bright
are beautiful I wis. Oh, ne'er before, on sea or shore, did I
love aught like this.'
"A voice came from the river:'For a love thou hast chosen
me; henceforward, sweet, for ever thine own love I will be.
Wherever there is water, of Florence the fairest daughter, by
night or day or far away, thou'lt find me close by thee.'
"She saw bright eyes a shining in dewdrops on her path
-she returned unto the palace, she entered in a bath.'How
the water  doth  caress  me;'tis embracing me,  I vow!
.I['abbracia, mi baccia-my lover has me now. Since fate
has really willed it, then to my fate I bow.'
"Seven years have come and vanished, seven years of
perfect bliss. Whenever she washed in water, she felt her lover's
kiss. She washed full oft, I ween;'twas plain to be seen
there was no maid in Florence who kept herself so clean.
"Little by little, as summer makes frogs croak in a ditch,
there spread about a rumour that the damsel was a witch.
They showed her scanty mercies; with cruelty extreme, with
blows and bitter curses, they cast her in the stream.'If she
132 
THE WITCH OF THE ARNO
be innocent, she'll sink, so hurl her from the Arno's brink; if
guilty, she will swim!'
"Up rose from the sparkling river a youth who was fair to
see.' I have loved thee, and for ever thine own I'll truly be.'
He took her in his arms; she felt no more alarms.'Farewell
to you all!' sang she;'a fish cannot drown in the water; now
I am a fish, you knoaw-the Arno's loving daughter.   Per
sempre addio! "
The foregoing is not literal, nor do I know that it is
strictly "traditional; " it is a mere short tale or anecdote
which I met with, and put into irregular metre to suit the
sound of a rushing stream. I take the liberty of adding
to it another water-poem of my own, which has become,
if not "popular," at least a halfpenny broadside sold at
divers street-stands by old women, the history whereof is
as follows:-I had written several ballads in Italian in
imitation of the simplest old-fashioned lyrics, and was
anxious to know if I had really succeeded in coming
down to the level of the people, for this is a very difficult
thing to do in any language. When I showed them to
Marietta Pery, she expressed it as her candid opinion
that they were really very nice indeed, and that I ought
for once in my life to come before the public as a
poet. And as I, fired by literary ambition, at last consented to appear in this role, Marietta took a ballad,
and going to E. Ducci, 32 Via Pilastri, who is the Catnach of Florence (I advise collectors of the really curious
to buy his soldo publications), made an arrangement
whereby my song should appear as a broadside, the lady
strictly conditioning that from among his blocks Signore
Ducci should find a ship and a flying bird to grace the
head and the end of the lyric. But as he had no bird,
she took -great credit to herself that for five francs she
not only got a hundred copies, but also had specially
engraved for the work and inserted an object which
appears as flying to the right hand of the ship. The
song was as follows:
133 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
LA BELLA STREGA.
A'uova Canzonetta di CHARLES GODFREY LELAND.
Era una bella strega
Che si bagnava alla riva;
Vennero i pirati
Lei presero captiva.
I1 vento era in poppa
Sull' onde la nave ballob
La donna lacrimante
A1 capitan parlb.
" O Signor capitano!
O Capitano del mar!
Darob cento ducati,
Se tu mi lasci andar."
"Non prendero cento ducati,
Tu costi molto pih
Io ti vendrob al Sultano,"
Disse il Capitano,
"Per mille zecchini d'oro
Vi stimi troppo giu."
"Non vuoi i cento ducati
Ebben tu non gli avrai,
Ho un' amante amato
Non mi abbandona mai."
Essa sede sul ponte
Principiob a cantar,
"Vieni il mio amante,"
Da lontano il vento
Si mette a mugghiar.
Forte e piu forte
La tempesta ruggio,
Gridava il capitano:
" Io credo che il tuo amante
E il vento che corre innante,
Ovvero il diavolo."
134 
THE WITCH OF THE ARNO
Forte e pii forte
La procella urlb,
"Sono rocce davanti,
E il vento vien di dietro
Benvenuto sei tu mio amante!"
La bella donna cantb.
"Vattene al tuo amante
All' inferno a cantar!"
Disse il Capitano
E gettob la donna fuori,
Della nave nel mar.
Ma come un gabbiano
Sull' onde essa vol6.
" O mio Capitano,
Non sarai appiccato,
Ma sarai annegato:
Per sempre addio!"
I35
— 4
..,,,.,   I
iA 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
THE BEAUTIFUL WITCH.
A pretty witch was bathing
In the sea one summer day;
There came a ship with pirates,
Who carried her away.
The ship due course was keeping
On the waves as they rose and broke;
The lovely lady, weeping,
Thus to the captain spoke:
" O Signor Capitano!
O captain of the sea!
I'll give you a hundred ducats
If you will set me free."
"I will not take a hundred,
You're worth much more, you know;
I will sell you to the Sultan
For a hundred gold sequins;
You set yourself far too low."
"You will not take a hundredOh well! then let them be,
But I have a faithful lover,
Who, as you may discover,
Will never abandon me."
Upon the windlass sitting,
The lady began to sing:
"Oh, come to me, my lover!"
From afar a breeze just rising
In the rigging began to ring.
Louder and ever louder
The wind began to blow:
Said the captain, "I think your lover
Is the squall which is coming over,
Or the devil who has us in tow."
Stronger and ever stronger
The tempest roared and rang,
"There are rocks ahead and the wind dead aft,
Thank you, my love," the lady laughed;
And loud to the wind she sang.
136 
THE WITCH OF THE ARNO
"Oh, go with your cursed lover,
To the devil to sing for me!"
Thus cried the angry rover,
And threw the lady over
Into the raging sea.
But changing to a seagull,
Over the waves she flew:
"Oh captain, captain mine," sung she,
"You will not swing on the gallows-tree,
For you shall drown in the foaming seaOh captain, for ever adieu!"
I must in honesty admit that this my debut as an
Italian poet was not noticed in any of the reviewspossibly because I did not send it to them-and there
were no indications that anybody considered that a new
Dante had arisen in the land. It is true, as Marietta
told me with much delight, that the printer, or his foreman, had declared it was a very good song indeed; but
then he was an interested party. And Marietta also
kindly praised it to the skies (after she had corrected it);
but then Marietta was herself a far better poet than I
can ever hope to be, and could afford to be generous.
The reader will pardon me if I avail myself of the
opportunity to give another Italian ballad which I wrote
on a theme which I also picked up in Florence.
IL GIARDINO D'AMORE, O LA FIGLIA DEL RE, E IL
CONTINO STREGONE.
Era un giovine Contino,
Di tutto il paese il flor,
Aveva un bel giardino,
II bel giardin d'amor.
"Chi batte alla mia porta?"
Domanda il bel Contin'.
"Son la figlia del re,
Vo vedere il tuo giardin'?"
137 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"Entra pur nel mio giardino,
O bella figlia del re,
Purch[ tu non tocchi niente,
A ciob che dentro v'e!"
Entrata nel giardino,
La bella figlia del re,
Non vidde col& niente,
Che fiori e foglie.
Le foglie eran d'argento,
Di oro ogni fior,
I frutti eran' gemmi,
Nel bel giardin d'amor.
Sedi sulla panchetta,
Sotto il frascame la;
Che vissi nel sentiero?
Un bell' anello c'era.
Non seppe che il Contino,
Fu stregone appostator;
Non seppe che l'anello,
Era lo stesso signor.
Ella ando nel suo letto,
Con l'anello nella man',
Non'n sospetto che la trasse
Sul dito un giovan.
Svegliato da un bacino,
Tra la mezzanotte e tre;
Si trovob il bel Contino
Accanto alla figlia del re.
Credo che fu ben contenta
Con la cosa come era;
Come molte donne sarebbero
Con tal stregoneria.
Portar dei gioielli,
A de' sposi il fior;
I1 di un di-amante,
La notte un bel signor
138 
THE WITCH OF THE ARNO
D'avere un bel diamante
Piace ognuno, si;
Ma meglio e un amante
Quando non ha piu il di.
Chi scrisse questa canzone
Un gran Contino e,
Anch'egli il stregone
Ch' amava la figlia del re.
THE GARDEN OF LOVE, OR THE KING'S DAUGHTER
AND THE WIZARD COUNT.
There was a Count of high degree,
All others far above;
He had a garden fair to see,
'Twas called the Garden of Love.
"Now who is knocking at my gate?
Who is it that makes so free?"
"Oh, I am the daughter of the king,
And your garden I would see!"
"Oh, come into my garden,
Fair daughter of the king!
Look well at all that's growing,
But touch not anything!"
She entered in the garden,
The princess young and fair,
She looked it all well over,
Yet nothing but trees were there.
But every leaf was of silver,
The flowers of gold; in the grove
The fruits were gems and jewels
In the beautiful Garden of Love.
She sat beneath the foliage,
The daughter of the king;
What shone in the path before her?
A beautiful diamond ring!
139 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
She knew not that the County
Was a wizard wondrous wise;
She did not know that the diamond
Was the wizard in disguise.
And when at night, fast sleeping,
The diamond ring she wore,
She never dreamed that her finger
Was bearing a young signor.
Awakened by his kisses
As she heard the midnight ring,
There was the handsome wizard
By the daughter of the king.
I ween she was well contented,
As many dames would be,
If they could be enchanted
With just such sorcery.
To have not only a jewel,
But a husband, which is more,
All day a dazzling diamond,
And by night a bright signor!
Who was it wrote this ballad
About this loving pair?
He was the Count and wizard
Who won the princess fair.
140 
STORIES OF SAN MINIATO
"The picturesque height of San Miniato, now the great cemetery of the
city, which dominates the Arno from the south, has an especial religious
and  saintly interest.   The  grand  Basilica, with its glittering ancient
mosaic, shines amid the cypresses against the sky, and whether it gleams
in the sunlight against the blue, or is cut in black on the primrose sky of
twilight, it is equally imposing."-" Echoes of Old Florence," by LEADER
SCOTT.
To the old people of Florence, who still see visions and
dream dreams, and behold the wind and the stars at
noonday (which latter thing I have myself beheld), the
very ancient convent of San Miniato, "the only one
in Tuscany which has preserved the ancient form of
the Roman basilica," and the neighbourhood, are still a
kind of Sleepy Hollow, where witches fly of nights more
than elsewhere, where ghosts or folletti are most commonly seen, and where the orco and the nightmare and
her whole ninefold disturb slumbers a bel agio at their
easiest ease, as appears by the following narrative:
SAN MINIATO FRA LE TORRE.
"This is a place which not long ago was surrounded by
towers, which were inhabited by many witches.
"Those who lived in the place often noticed by night in
those towers, serpents, cats, small owls, and similar creatures,
and they were alarmed by frequently seeing their infants die
like candles blown out-struggere i bambini come candele; nor
could they understand it; but those who believed in witchcraft, seeking in the children's beds, often found threads woven
together in forms like animals or garlands, and when mothers
had left their children alone with the doors open, found their
infants, on returning, in the fireplace under the ashes. And
141 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
at such times there was always found a strange cat in the
room.
"And believing the cat to be a witch, they took it, and
first tying the two hind-paws, cut off the fore-claws (za.te,
claws or paws), and said:
"'Fammi guarire
La mia creatura;
Altrimenti per te saranno
Pene e guai!'
"'Cure my child,
Or there shall be
Trouble and sorrow
Enough for thee!'
"This happened once, and the next day the mother was
sitting out of doors with her child, when she saw a woman
who was her intimate friend at her window, and asked her if
she would not wash for her her child's clothes, since she herself was ill. But the other replied:'I cannot, for I have my
hands badly cut.'
"Then  the mother in a rage told this to other women
whose children had been bewitched or died.
"Then all together seized the witch, and by beating her,
aided with knives crossed, and whatever injuries they could
think of, subdued her and drenched her under a tower with
holy water. And the witch began to howl, not being able to
endure this, and least of all the holy water!
"When all at once there came a mighty wind, which blew
down the witch-tower, and carried away the witch, and killed
all the uncanny animals which dwelt in the ruins. And unbelievers say that this was done by an earthquake; but this is
not true, for the witches were really the cause (chagione) of its
overthrow.
"And though many old things are destroyed and rebuilt,
there are many cats still there which are assuredly witches.
"And in the houses thereabout people often perceive and
see spirits, and if any one will go at night in the Piazza San
Miniato fra le Torri, especially where those old things (chose
vecche) were cleared away, he will see sparks of fire (favillZe di
fuocho) break out, and then flames; and this signifies that
some diabolical creature or animal is still confined there which
needs relief (che a bisogna di bene), or that in that spot lies a
treasure which requires to be discovered."
I42 
STORIES OF SAN MINIATO
I consider this as very interesting, because I most
truthfully guarantee that this specimen of witch-lore was
written in good faith and firm belief, and is not at all,
like most of the tales gleaned or gathered now-a-days,
taken from people who got them from others who perhaps only half believed in them. She who wrote it has
no more doubt that witch-cats prowl, and that wild-fire
hisses forth from evil spirits in durance pent'neath the
soil of San Miniato, than that the spirit of the Arno
appears as "a small white hand pointing tremulously
upwards."
There is given in the Facetia of Piovano Arlotto,
which is considered a truthful record of the adventures of
its subject, a tale relative to San Miniato which cannot
here be deemed out of place. It is as follows:
LA TESTA DI SAN MINIATO.
"There was in Florence a poor and learned gentlemansavio e da bene, who was a good friend of Piovano Arlotto,
who was also good to him, since he had often aided the
former with money, meal, and many other things, and indeed
without such help he could hardly have fed his family; for he
had fourteen sons and daughters, and though the proverb
says Figliuoi, mioli,'lenzuoli non sono mai tro2pi in una casathere are never too many children, glasses, or linen sheets in
a house, this good man found indeed that he had too many
of the former.
"Now to help dire need, this gentleman tried to buy on
credit two bales of cloth, one wherewith to clothe his family,
and the other to sell in order to make some money. To do
this, he needed some one to be his security, and he had
recourse to Piovano Arlotto, who willingly agreed to pay the
manufacturer in case the friend who gave his note could not
meet it.  Now  he found that the manufacturer had sadly
cheated the purchaser in the measure or quantity, fully onehalf, as was also evident to many others; however, as matters
stood, he was obliged to let it pass.
"As things were thus, the poor gentleman died and passed
I43 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
away from this misera vita or sad life, and Piovano was in
deep grief for his loss, and as much for the poor orphans.
"When the note fell due, the manufacturer went to Piovano
Arlotto and asked for his money, saying that he only demanded what was justly due to him.
"And after a few days' delay, he paid the man two-thirds of
the sum, and ten florins for the time and trouble, and said he
would not give a farthing more. Then the dealer begun to
dun him, but he evaded every demand.   Then  the merchant employed a young man, eighteen years of age, who had
not his equal in Florence to collect debts. And this youth
set to work in earnest to get from the priest the sum of about
twenty-eight gold florins, still due from the account.
"In a few days he had attacked Piovano a hundred times
with the utmost impudence, in the market, in the public
squares, on the streets at home, and in the church, without
regard to persons present, at all times, and in every aggravating way, until the priest conceived a mortal hatred of the
dun, and turned over in his head many ways to get rid
of him.
"At last he went one day to the Abbot of San Miniato or
Monte, and said to him:'Padre reverends I seek your
paternal kindness to relieve a very distressing case in which I
am concerned. I have a nephew who is possessed by the
devil, one into whom an evil spirit has entered, and who has a
monomania that I owe him money, and is always crying to
me everywhere,'When are you going to pay me? I want
twenty-eight florins.''Tis a great pity, for he is a fine young
man, and something really ought to be done to cure him.
Now I know that the holy relic which you possess, the worthy
head of the glorious and gracious San Miniato, has such a
virtue, that, if it be once placed on the head of this poor
youth,'twill certainly cure him. Would you so contrive, in any
way, to put it on him some time this week?'
"The Abbot answered,'Bring him when you will.'
"Piovano thanked him and said:'I will bring him on
Saturday, but when he shall be here, I pray you be at the
gate with seven or eight strong men, that he may not escape;
for you know, holy father, that these demoniacs are accustomed to rage when they see relics and hear prayers, and it
will be specially so with this poor youth, who is young and
vigorous-yea, it may be that'twill be necessary to give him
sundry cuffs and kicks, so terrible is the power of Satan
144 
STORIES OF SAN MINIATO
lupus esuriens.   Do so, I pray, without fearing to hurt my
feelings-nay, it would be a great pleasure to me, so heartily
do I desire to see him cured.'
"The Abbot answered,'Bring him here, my son, and I will
see that all is rightly done.'
"Piovano returned, saying to himself:
"'Chi vuol giusta vendetta,
In Dio la metta.'
"' Leave vengeance to the Lord, or to his ministers-videlicet, the monks of San Miniato. Which I will do.'
"On Friday he went to the merchant who had sold the
cloth, and said:'As for this which I owe you, it is all rubbish.
You cheated the man who gave you the note out of half the
cloth-you know it, and I can prove it.  However, to avoid
further trouble and litigation, I am willing to pay all, but you
must allow time for it.  Dura cosa e i'aspettare-'tis hard to
wait, but harder still to have nothing to wait for. The monks
of San Miniato owe me for forty cords of wood, which is to be
paid for at the end of two years, and then you shall have your
money.'
"This sounded like'for ever and a day' to the creditor,
and in a rage he had recourse to his collector, who on
Saturday morning went to San Miniato. When he arrived,
he had to wait till the grand mass was over, to the great
vexation of the young man, and meanwhile eight powerful
monks with long staves had grouped themselves about the
door, awaiting a little healthy exercise.
"And mass being over, the dun hastened up to the Abbot,
who, taking him by the hand, said:'Oh, my son, put thy trust
in God and in San Miniato the blessed; pray that he may take
this evil conceit from thy head,' and with this much more,
till the young man grew impatient and said:
"'Messer Abbot, to-day is Saturday, and no time for sermons. I have come to know what you are going to do about
this debt of Piovano of twenty-eight florins, and when it will
be paid?'
"Then the Abbot, hearing, as he expected, the demand for
money, began to exhort and exorcise. And the youth began
to abuse the Abbot with all kind of villanies, and finally
turned to depart; but the Abbot caught him by the cloak, and
there was a fight. Then came the eight monks, who seizing
him, chastised him lustily, and bound him with cords, and
K
145 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
bearing him into the sacristy, sprinkled him with holy water,
and incensed him indeed-and then set the holy head of San
Miniato on his head-he thinking they were all mad as hatters.
Then they exorcised the evil spirits in him -''Maledicti I
excommunicate et rebelles-sitis in pena eternali nulla requies sit
in vo-o-o-bis sistatim non eritis obedientes, prtceptis nie-e-e-e-is!'until the youth had to give in, and beg the Abbot's pardon,
and being released, fled as for dear life.
"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 nefin, nefondo-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 throatthe 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 feeble
146 
STORIES OF SAN MINIATO
ness (dalocaggine) 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 I499. 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.' Con
147 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
cerning which word dlun 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 si-cula seculorum I-twice over!"
148 
THE FRIAR'S HEAD OF SANTA MARIA MAG    GIORE-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 Pitrd 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.'
I49 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"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-cAi 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 Facetic 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'-the priest
1 Ha tanta lingua che saazzar-ebbe un forno, b uiz cesso. Said of virulent
gossips.
I50 
THE FRIAR'S HEAD OF SANTA MARIA MAGGIORE 151
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 Nature
Historicum.  HENRICI KORNMANNI, A.D. I6I4.
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 I575. 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,' he
1 Mago, which, like magus, implies more dignity than magician or
sorcerer.
I52 
BIANCONE
being a wizard indeed. In those days there was much water
in the Arno,1 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 pii potente,
Che da tutti e temuto;
Ed e un uomo grande,
E grande, e ben vero;
Ma il gran dio del Arno,
I1 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
II 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 I
Wilere 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,
1 "The Mugnone, whose course has been shifted to the west, formerly
flowed into the Arno through the heart of the city."-Murray's Handbook
for Travellers in Central Italy.
153 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
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 goddessThe 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
II potente dio dell' Arno,
L'anguilla discacciata,
Che tu ai discacciata,
E di te inamorata,
E di te pii 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.'
I54 
BIANCONE
"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,
Pii 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 1 and said:
c  Biancone, or guardami,
Guarda mi bene perche pii,
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,
A1 te si guardami mi vedi.'
"'Biancone, now regard me,
Look well at me now, for never,
WVilt 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
1,L'atguilla si rizzo in piedi-" The eel rose upon her feet." This will
remind the reader of some of the difficulties experienced by Gothic artists
in depicting Eve and the Serpent.
155
I 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
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 piui 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,' and it was covered
1 There is much confusion here. It appears that the fairy made the
fountain now in the Signoria, and that Biancone saw this in a vision.
156 
BIANCONE
with glass; but in the time that he thought (or dreamed) that
he saw this, the eel appeared and said:
"'I1 momento 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!'
157 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"'I hereby compel thy servants,
Those who aided thee, to vanish,
Or take forms half brute, half human.1
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 wilt 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 I564 and  I1565.  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
1 This refers to the satyrs who are among the bronze figures below
Neptune.
158 
BIANCONE
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.
"H  cfabula 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 coara oplo."
I59 
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 I
Ti prego6 di volermi aiutare
A liberarmi dalla morte!'
I6o 
THE RED GOBLIN OF THE BARGELLO
"'Spirit, whoe'er thou be,
I beg thee now for aid;
From death pray set me free I'
"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.1   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.2
"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
a voice call to him, and was in great alarm, but it said,'Fear
1 I here omit a long, detailed, and wearisome account of the research,
which, however, indicates the accuracy with which the tradition had been
preserved, and the full belief in it of the narrator.
2 A kind of cruel pillory.
L
I6I 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
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,' 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 diavolto 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 volonti, non
manca facoltd-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 trott-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
1 In allusion to seeing it from behind the squares formed by the grates
of iron before prison windows.
I62 
THE RED GOBLIN OF THE BARGELLO
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
garfon. 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, b 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:
"' Orstu, 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:
"' Cosl non canta Giorgio.'
"' But it was not thus that Giorgio sang.'
"So it passed into a proverb, meaning as much as Cost' non
dico io-I don't say that; or Cosi non l'intendo io-I don't see
I63 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
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." 1
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.
' Landucci, 233, cited by Scaife.
i 64 
THE RED GOBLIN OF THE BARGELLO
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 rnio.'
"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 Ligi, 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
i65 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
out of practice, even in politics, until that great beginning
of a moral era, the Reformation.
"altec 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 saxurm, 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 Fran~ois 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 venefice 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!"
166 
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 I435, 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
facetim, 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
I67 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
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
i68 
LEGENDS OF SAN LORENZO
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!
"0 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 equal]ed
afterwards, even by Protestant satirists. The E]pistolw
Obscurorum  Virorum of Hutten and Reuchlin was an
i6g 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
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 Epistole, 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, domin6 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
170 
LEGENDS OF SAN LORENZO
the cloister of San Lorenzo, these felines being, indeed,
in a small way among the lions of Florence.   It is as
follows:
I GATTI DI SAN LORENZO.
"In the cloisters of San Lorenzo there are many cats, and
every evening people may be seen who go there to feed them,
among whom are many old men and women. But these cats
were long ago themselves human, that is to say, they were
once all wizards and witches, who bear their present form for
punishment of an evil deed.
"There was once a very wealthy and powerful family in
Florence, at the head of which was a gentleman and lady who
had an only daughter, in whom was all their love and hope.
Among their servants in a higher position was an old woman,
who was very vindictive and easily offended, so that she could
brood over deadly revenge for years for the least affront, and
she fancied she had a great many, because when she had
neglected her duty at times she had been scolded by her
mistress or master.
"Now this old woman knew that death or disaster to the
daughter would drive the parents mad; and so having recourse
to witchcraft, she put into the drink of the young lady a decoction, the result of which was that she began to waste away,
growing weaker and paler, without feeling any pain.
"Then her parents, in great fear, consulted the best physicians, who did no good, for indeed it was a case beyond their
skill. And at last, beginning to believe that there was something unearthly in it all, they sent for an old woman who cured
by occult art.' And when she came she looked steadily at
the girl, then frowned and shook her head, and asked for a
ribbon or cord, no matter what, so that it were one which the
young lady had worn about her waist. With this she measured
accurately the height of the patient from head to foot, and
then the width from hand to hand, it being desirous that the
arms be of equal length; but there was the disproportion of
the thickness of a piece of money. Then the witch said:
"'This is none of my affair as regards the cure. Your
daughter is bewitched, and I can indeed make the witch
appear, but to beat her and compel her to remove the spell
depends on you alone.'
1 Una medichessa.
171
I
i 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"Now they, suspecting the old servant, sent for her, but she
had disappeared and could not be found. Then the doctress
took a caldron, and put into it hot water and the undergarments of the girl and certain herbs, and boiled them all
together, singing an incantation, and, taking a knife, sharpened it on the table, whetting it on the chemise of the
young lady.
"Then the old servant woman appeared at the door, against
her will, forced by the power of the spell, in an agony of
rage and bitterness; but she was at once seized and beaten,
whereupon she consented to unbewitch the girl, who speedily
recovered.
"Now Florence was at that time fearfully afflicted with evil
witches, who defied all authority, and spread disease and death
far and wide; but this affair of the bewitched lady being
made known, both priests and laymen rose up in wrath,
and the sorceress fled for sanctuary to the cloisters of San
Lorenzo.
"Then to save their lives the Strege made a compromise with
the priests, and it was agreed that they should no longer live
as witches, or do any harm, but all live and die as cats in the
cloister, where they should be regularly fed, and exist in peace.
Which agreement has been duly carried out to this day, and
among these cats are many who were once witches in human
form hundreds of years ago."
This narrative is not so much a story as an account of
the manner in which bewitchment is undone by another
witch. The reader will find the incantations in the chapter entitled "The Spell of the Boiling Clothes," in my
work on "Etruscan-Roman Remains."  One of the most
serious riots which has occurred in Milan for many years
took place March 3, I89I, when the populace tortured
terribly and tried to kill a witch, who had, it was believed,
been detected by this spell.
"Hcec fabula docet," adds the wise Flaxius, "this story
suggests a reason why a certain kind of ladies of ecclesiastical
proclivities are always called tabbies. And that there is something in it I can well believe, knowing one who, when she
calls her rector or bishop'De-ar man!' does so in a manner
172 
LEGENDS OF SAN LORENZO
which marvellously suggests the purring of a cat. And the
manner in which the tabby pounces on the small birds, mice,
and gold-fish of others-i.e., their peccadilloes, and small pets
or pleasures, which in good faith do her no harm-seems like
literally copying the feline-upon line....
"Oh! ye who visit the cloister, and see the cats, think well
on this legend, and especially on the deep identity of witches
with tabbies!
"And for a moral, note that, with all their sins, what the
witches and cats aimed at above all things was food, with which
they have remained content, according to the exquisite lyric by
the divine Shelley, p. 66I, Dowden's edition:
"' This poor little cat
Only wanted a rat,
To stuff out its own little maw,
And it were as good
Some people had such food
To make them hold theirjaw."'
I73 
LEGEND OF THE PIAZZA SAN BIAGIO
"For by diabolical art he assumed varied forms, even the human, and
deceived people by many occult tricks."-FROMANN, Tractatus de Fascinatione, 1675.
THIS is a slight tale of light value, and not new, but it
has assumed local colour, and may amuse the reader.
"It was a great art of witches and sorcerers of old to give
a man or woman by art the appearance of another person, and
this they called'drawing white lines with charcoal,' and there
is many a fine tale about it. Now it was about the time when
Berta spun and owls wore silk cloaks that a Signore Nannincino lived in the old Piazza San Biagio. He had many small
possessions in Florence, but the roast chickens of the supper,
or his great piece, was an estate in the country called the
Mula a Quinto, for which all his relations longed, like wolves
for a fat sheep. And Nannincini, being sharp to a keen edge,
and knowing how to lend water and borrow wine, had promised this estate in secret to everybody, and got from them
many a gratification, and supped and dined with them for
years, yet after this died without leaving a will.
"Then six of his relations assembled and resolved to secure
the property, though they invoked the devil. And to aid them
they took a certain scamp named Giano di Selva, who somewhat resembled the departed Nannincino, and he, calling in a
witch of his acquaintance, was made by sorcery to look as
much like the defunct as two beads of the same rosary. So
Nannincino was removed and Giano put in his place, where
he lay still for an hour, and then began to show signs of life.
And after a time he called for a notary and began to make his
will. First he left a house to one, and his sword to another,
and so on, till it came to the Mula a Quinto.
"'And  who shall have the Mula a Quinto, dear good
uncle?' asked a nephew.
174 
LEGEND OF THE PIAZZA SAN BIAGIO
"'That,' replied the dying man,'I leave to my good friend,
the only true friend I ever had, the noblest of men
"' But what is his name?' asked the nephew.
"'Giano di Selva,' gasped the dying man. And it was
written down by the notary, and the will was signed, and the
signer died immediately after. All their shaking could not
revive him.
"The tale ends with these words: E  cos' ingannati gli ingannatori, rimase Giano herede del podere-And thus the biters
being bit, d'ye see, Giano took a handsome property."
"And does his ghost still promenade the palace?"
"To oblige you, Signore, for this once-piace a lei il comandare-it does. The ghost walks-always when the rent fails to
come in, and there is no money in the treasury-cammina,
cammina per un fil di spada-walks as straight as an acrobat
on a rope. But I cannot give you a walking ghost of a rascal
to every house, Signore. If all the knaves who made fortunes
by trickery were to take to haunting our houses in Florence,
they would have to lie ten in a bed, or live one hundred in a
room, and ghosts, as you know, love to be alone. Mille grazie,
Signore Carlo! This will keep our ghost from walking for a
week."
" Of which remark here made that'the ghost doth walk,"'
comments the sage Flaxius, "when money is forbidden unto
man (which is so commonly heard in theatrical circles when
the weekly salary is not paid), I have no doubt that it comes
from the many ancient legends which assign a jealous guardian
sprite to every hoard. And thus in Spenser's wondrous'Faerie
Queene' the marvellous stores in Mammon's treasury,'embost with massy gold of glorious guifte,' were watched by
"''An ugly feend more fowle than dismall day;
The which with monstrous stalk behind him stept,
And ever as he went dew watch upon him kept.'
"The which quotation is in its turn otherwise curious since it
gave, I doubt not, the original suggestion to Coleridge of the
verse wherein mention is made in simile of one who walks in
fear and dread, and dares not turn his head
"'For well he knows a griesly fiend
Doth close behind him tread.'
"'More or less accurately, my masters, more or less.''"'Tis
sixty years since'-I read the original."
175 
THE SPIRIT OF THE PORTA SAN GALLO
" And both the undying fish that swim
Through Bowscale Tarn did wait on him:
The pair were servants of his eye
In their immortality;
They moved about in open sight,
To and fro, for his delight."
-WORDSWORTH, Poems of the Imagination.
THE reader should never at once infer that a legend is
recent because it is attached to a new place. Spirits and
traditions are like the goblin of Norse tale, who moved
with the family. The family changed its home to get
rid of him, but on the way the elf popped his head out
and remarked," Wifiiitten "("We're flitting" or moving).
The ghost of Benjamin Franklin long haunted the library
which he had founded in Philadelphia, and when the
library or books were transferred to a new building, the
ghost went with them and his statue. And in like manner
the legend of the religious person, male or female, who is
also a fish has travelled over many lands, till it came to
the vasca or basin of the Porto San Gallo. Thus Leonard
Vair, in his charming Trois Livres des Charmnes, Sorcelages
ou Enchantemens, Paris, 1583, tells us that "there is a
cloister in Burgundy, by which there is a pond, and in
this pond are as many fish as there be monks in the
cloister. And when one of the fish swims on the surface
of the water and beats with its tail, then one of the monks
is ever ill." But there is a mass of early Christian or
un-Christian folklore which identifies "Catholic clergywomen" with fish, even as Quakers are identified in
Philadelphia with shad. In Germany all maids just in
176 
THE SPIRIT OF THE PORTA SAN GALLO  I77
their teens are called Backfisch, that is, pan-fish or
friturcs, from their youth and liveliness, or delicacy.
We may read in Friedrich that the fish is a common
Christian symbol of immortality, which fulilly accounts for
all legends of certain of them living for ever.
The story which I have to tell is as follows:
Lo SPIRITO DELLA VASCA DELLA PORTA SAN GALLO.
"In this fountain-basin is found a pretty little fish, which is
always there, and which no one can catch, because it always
escapes with great lestezza or agility.
"And this is the queen of all the other fish, or else the
Spirit of the Fountain.
"This spirit, while on earth, was a beautiful girl who loved
an official, and he fell ill and was in the military hospital.
"The parents of the maid opposed her marriage with this
official, though he was so much in love with her that it and
anxiety had made him ill. Then the maid became a nun so
that she might be near him in illness, and nurse him in his
last moments, which indeed came to pass, for he died, nor did
she long survive him.
"Then her mother, who had magic power (essendo stata una
fata 1), regretted having opposed her daughter's love and that
of the young man, since it had caused the death of both. And
to amend this she so enchanted them that by night both became
folletti or spirits haunting the hospital, while by day the maid
becomes a little fish living in the fountain. But when seen by
night she appears as a pretty little nun (una bella i monachina),
and goes to the hospital to nurse the invalids, for which she
has, indeed, a passion. And if any one of them observes her,
he feels better, but in that instant she vanishes, and is in the
arms of her lover. But sometimes it happens that he becomes
jealous of a patient, and then he vexes the poor man in every
way, twitching off his covering, and playing him all kinds of
spiteful tricks."
It is otherwise narrated, in a more consistent, and
certainly more traditionally truthful manner, that both
1 Not a fairy here, but a witch of a certain degree.
M 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
the lovers are fish by day and folletti by night. This
brings the legend to close resemblance with the undying fish of Bowscale Tarn, recorded in Wordsworth's
beautiful song at the feast of Brougham Castle in
the "Poems of the Imagination."
"'Tis worth noting," pens the observant Flaxius on this,
"that in days of yore fish, feminines, and fascination were
considered so inseparable that Dr. Johannes Christian Fromann wrote a chapter on this mystical trinity, observing that
music was, as an attractor, connected with them, as shown
by dolphins, syrens, Arions, and things of that sort. And he
quoted-yea, in the holy Latin tongue-many instances of
fishers who entice their finny prey by playing flutes:
" Which thing I doubted till I saw that Doubt
Pursued, its refutation oft begets,
When in America I once found out
That shad were caught by means of castin' netsl "
I78 
STORY OF THE PODESTA WHO WAS LONG
ON HIS JOURNEY
A LEGEND OF THE DUOMO
" WVere I ten times as tedious, I would find it in my heart to bestowv it all
on you."-Dogberry.
THIS little tale is told by the Florentine Poggio, who was
born in I380 and died in I459, yet lived-in his wellknown Facezie. But as it ever was and is a folk-story,
independently of the great jester, I think it worthy of a
place in this collection.
"There was once a podesta sent from Rome to govern
Florence, and truly he was of that kind who to a farthing's
worth of sense have ten ducats' value in self-conceit; for if
vanity could have kept a man warm, he never would have had
need to buy blankets. And this was most shown in his belief
that he was a great orator, though he was so intolerably stupid
and slow that his speeches were like the post-rider of Giordano, who in good weather sometimes got as far as five
miles a day.
" Now he was to be inducted into office in the Cathedral,
in the presence of thepriori, or notables of the city of Florence,
and so begun a discourse in which he first of all described
how great a man he had been as senator in Rome, and what
he had done, and what everybody else connected with him
had done, and all the details of his departure from the Eternal
City; and then depicted a banquet given to him at Sutro, and
so went on, telling everything about everybody, till, after several
hours of terribly tiresome discourse, he had got no farther
than Siena.
"Now by this time, as Poggio words it,'This excessive
length of wearisome narration had so exhausted his auditors
that they began to fear that the entire day would be spent on
179 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
the road,' and at last, as the shades of night began to fall, one
who was present rose and said:
"'Monsignore, I beg you to remember that it is growing
late, and you must really get on a little faster in your journey,
for if you are not in Florence to-day, the gates will be shut,
and unless you get here in time you will not be allowed to
enter, and thus you will miss being ordained, and cannot enter
on your office.'
"Which having heard, the man of many words promptly
concluded his speech by saying that he was really in
Florence."
Southey, in "The Doctor," has narrated a number of
instances of tedious discourse, but none, I think, quite
equal to this.
There is a shadow under every lamp, a devil's chapel
close by every church, and even of the venerable and
holy Duomo of Florence there are such tales as the
following:
LA MESSA DE' VILLANI.
"If there is any faith to be put in old stories and ancient
books, even the ladies and gentleman, to say nothing of priests,
used such language in their ordinary conversation, in good
old Medici times, as would not be heard among any but the
lowest people now-a-days. Well, as the saying is:
"'Ne di tempo, ne di Signoria,
Non ti dar malinconia.'
"' Fret not thyself for time long past away,
For weather, nor for what the great may say.'
"Well, it happened one morning in Florence that a gentil
donna, who, I take it, was more donna than truly gentil, whatever her rank may have been, meeting at the door of the
Duomo a very ordinary and rough figure of her acquaintance,
who had only made himself look more vulgar by new and
gaudy clothes, asked him as he came out:
"' Is the Cads' Mass 1 over already?'
"To which he, in nowise put out, promptly replied:
"'Yes, Madonna, and that of the Demireps is just going to
1 Si la Messa de Villani era finito.
I 80 
STORY OF THE PODESTA
begin;  only hurry, and you'll be there in time with the rest
of'em!'
"And that lifted him to celebrity, for in those famous days
a small joke often made a great reputation. Ah! Signore-a
great many of us have been born into this world four hundred
years too late-more's the pity!  However, the lady learned
the truth of the old proverb,' Guardati del villan, quando ha'
la camicia bianca'-' Look out for a vulgar fellow when he has
a clean shirt on,' for then he thinks himself fine enough to say
anything saucy.
"And there is yet another story of the same sort, Signore;
indeed, I think that while the world lasts there will always be a
few of them left for steady customers, under the counter, like
smuggled goods in Venice; and it is this: It befell once that
a Florentine fell in love with a lady, who was like her mother,
come il ramo al tronco s'assomniglia-' as the bough to the tree,
or very much worse than she ought to be;' for the dear mamma
was like the Porta San Niccolob, only not so well famed.
"However, the gentleman wedded her, never heeding the
proverb:
"' Let every wooer be afraid
To wed a maiden not a maid;
For sooner or later, as'tis said,
She'll turn again unto her trade.'
"However, in this case the proverb got the lie, for the lady
after she was married behaved with great propriety, and yet
was often reminded that she had better have repented before
she sinned than after; for many would not speak to her, for all
her wealth, till she was well convinced that Che profitttza
ravedersi dopbo ilfatto?
"'When the deed has once been done,
What if the use of repenting, my son?'
"So it befell one morning that the poor soul was praying in
the Cathedral or Duomo, as many another poor sinner had
done before her (doubtless on the same spot), when a noble
lady, who had never been found out in any naughtiness (some
people are certainly very lucky in this world, Signore Carlo!),
came by, and seeing the penitent, drew in her robe, turned up
her nose, and retreated as if the other had the plague. To
which the Magdalen replied, in a sad but firm voice,' Madonna,
1 E appunto hora comincia quella delle puttane, pero camninate, che
farete a tempo con l'altre.
i8i 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
you need not be afraid to touch me, for I assure you that
the malady (of which I have, I trust, been thoroughly cured)
attacks none save those who wish to have it."'
When standing in the Cathedral, the visitor may remember that here Santo Crescenzio, who died in 424, once
wrought a miracle, thus recorded in his "Life" of the
fourteenth century:
"A poor man had come into the Cathedral and saw no
light (i.e., was blind), and going to where Saint Crescentius
was, implored him with great piety that he would cause the
light to return unto him. And being moved to pity, he made
the sign of the cross in the eyes of the blind man, and incontinently the light was restored unto him. Saint Crescentius
did not wish this to be made known, and pretended to know
nothing about it, but he could not conceal such miracles."
Of which the immortal Flaxius remarks, that "it is
singular that so many saints who wished to keep their
miracles unknown had not the forethought to make silence
a condition of cure. Also, that of all the wonder-working
once effected by the holy men of the Church, the only
gift now remaining to them is the miraculous power of
changing sons and daughters into nephews and nieces;
the which, as I am assured, is still as flourishing as ever,
and permitted as a proof of transubstantiation." Thus it
is that simple heretics deride holy men. And Flaxius is,
I bid ye note, a sinner, in whose antique, unsanctified
derision I most assuredly do take no part, "it being in
bad form in this our age to believe or disbelieve in anything," and therefore in bad style to laugh at aught.
It may be worth recalling, when looking out on the
Cathedral Square, that it was here that San Zenobio performed another great miracle, recorded in all his lives,
but most briefly in the poetical one:
"Then did he raise an orphan from the dead,
The only son of a poor widow, he,
A cart with oxen passing o'er his head,
Died in the Duomo Square in misery;
I82 
STORY OF THE PODESTA
But though all crushed, the Saint restored his life,
And, well and gay and bright as stars do shine,
He went to his mother, and the pious wife
Gave thanks to God for mercy all divine."
Which being witnessed, says the Vita San Zenobii,
all who were present began to sing, "Gloria tibi Domine
qui mirabiliz per servos tuos in nobis operari dignatus
es, Cloria sit tibi-i et laus in sacu-la-sec-u-lo-o-o-rum,
A-men.
Which, if they sung it as I heard it sung yesterday in
the Cathedral of Siena, must have had an extremely soporific effect, lulling all others to sleep, and causing them to
see beatific visions beyond all belief. I had in my boyhood a teacher named Professor Sears C. Walker, who
was wont to tell how he had once heard in a rural New
England village a church congregation sing:
"Before thy throne the angels bow-wow-wow-ow!"
But to hear the bow-wow in perfection, one must go to
Rome. A pack in full cry or a chorus of owls is nothing
to it. But let us pass on to a fresh story.
I83
-0 
LEGENDS OF THE BOBOLI GARDENS: THE
OLD GARDENER, AND THE TWO STATUES
AND THE FAIRY
"He found such strange enchantment there,
In that garden sweet and rare,
Where night and day
The nightingales still sing their roundelay,
And plashing fountains'neath the verdure play,
That for his life he could not thence away;
And even yet, though he hath long been dead,
'Tis said his spirit haunts the pleasant shade."
-The Rizg of Charlemagne.
A GREAT showman, as I have heard, once declared that
in establishing a menagerie, one should have the indispensable lion, an obligato elephant, a requisite tiger, an
essential camel, and imperative monkeys.   One of the
"indispensable lions" of Florence is the Boboli Gardens,
joining the Pitti Palace, which, from their careful preservation in their original condition, give an admirable
idea of what gardens were like in an age when far more
was thought of them than now as places of habitual
resort and enjoyment, and when they entered into all
literature and life. Abraham a Santa Clara once wrote a
discourse against gardens, as making life too happy or
simple, basing his idea on the fact that sin originated in
the Garden of Eden.
The Boboli Gardens were planned by II Tribolo for
Cosimo di Medici. The ground which they occupy is
greatly varied, rising high in some places, from which
very beautiful views of Florence, with its "walls and
churches, palaces and towers," may be seen. Of their
I84 
LEGENDS OF THE BOBOLI GARDENS
many attractions the guide-book remarks poetically in
very nearly the following words:
Its long-embowered walks, like lengthened arbours,
Are well adapted to the summer's sun;
While statues, terraces, and vases add
Still more unto its splendour. All around
We see attractive statues, and of these
A number really are restored antiques,
And many by good artists; best of all
Are four by mighty Michel Angelo,
Made for the second Julius, and meant
To decorate his tomb. You see them at
The angles of the grotto opposite
The entrance to the gardens. Of this grot
The famous Redi sang in verse grotesque:
Ye satyrs, in a trice
Leave your low jests and verses rough and hobbly,
And bring me a good fragment of the ice
Kept in the grotto of the Garden Boboli.
With nicks and picks
Of hammers and sticks,
Disintegrate it
And separate it,
Break it and split it,
Splinter and slit it!
Till at the end'tis fairly ground and rolled
Into the finest powder, freezing cold."
There are also, among the things worth seeing, the
Venus by Giovanni of Boulogne (called di Bologna); the
Apollo and Ceres by Baccio Bandinelli; the group of Paris
carrying off Helen by V. de' Rossi, and the old Roman
fountain-bath and obelisk. The trees and flowers, shrubbery and boschetti, are charming; and if the reader often
visits them, long sitting in the sylvan shade on sunny
days, he will not fail to feel that strange enchantment
which seems to haunt certain places, and people them
with dreams, if not with elves.
The fascination of these dark arbours old, and of the
antique gardens, has been recognised by many authors,
and there are, I suppose, few visitors to Florence who
have not felt it and recalled it years after in distant lands
as one recalls a dream. Therefore, I read with interest
I85 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
or sympathy the following, which, though amounting to
nothing as a legend, is still valuable as setting forth the
fascination of the place, and how it dates even from him
who gave the Boboli Gardens their name:
IL GIARDINO BOBOLI.
"The Boboli Garden is the most beautiful in Europe.
"Boboli was the name of the farmer who cultivated the
land before it was bought by Cosimo de' Medici and his wife
Eleanora.
"After he had sold the property he remained buried in
grief, because he had an attachment for it such as some form
for a dog or a cat. And so great was his love for it that it
never left his mind, nor could he ever say amen to it; for on
whatever subject he might discourse, it always came in like
one who will not be kept out, and his refrain was,'Well,
you'll see that my place will become i,iido degli amori (the
nest of loves), and I myself after my death will never be
absent from it.' His friends tried to dissuade him from thinking so much of it, saying that he would end by being lunatic,
but he persevered in it till he died.
"And it really came to pass as he said; for soon after his
death, and ever since, many have on moonlight nights seen
his spirit occupied in working in the gardens."
The story is a pretty one, and it is strangely paralleled
by one narrated in my own Memoirs of the old Penington mansion in Philadelphia, the gardens of which were
haunted by a gentle ghost, a lady who had lived there in
her life, and who was, after her death, often seen watering the flowers in them by moonlight. And thus do
"printless footsteps fall
By the spots they loved before."
The second legend which I recovered, relating to the
Boboli Gardens, is as follows:
I86 
LEGENDS OF THE BOBOLI GARDENS
LE DUE STATUE E LA NINFA.
"There are in the Boboli Gardens two statues of two
imprisoned kings, and it is said that every night a beautiful
fairy of the grotto clad in white rises from the water, emerging
perfectly dry, and converses with the captive kings for one
hour, going alternately from one to the other, as if bearing
mutual messages, and then returns to the grotto, gliding over
the ground without touching the grass with her feet, and after
this vanishes in the water."
"This tale is, as I conceive," writes the observant Flaxius,
"an allegory, or, as Petrus Berchorius would have called it,
a miora/isation, the marrow whereof is as follows: The two
captive kings are Labour and Capital, who have, indeed, been
long enchained, evil tongues telling each that the other was
his deadly foe, while the fairy is Wise Reform, who passes her
time in consoling and reconciling them. And it shall come
to pass that when the go-betweens or brokering mischief-makers
are silenced, then the kings will be free and allied."
" Then indeed, as you may see,
All the world will happy be!"
Vivat Sequeizz! Now for the next story.
I87 
HOW LA VIA DELLA MOSCA GOT ITS NAME
"Puer-abige Muscas!"
-Cicero de Oral., 60.
THE following story contains no new or original elements,
as it is only an ordinary tale of transformation by witchcraft, but as it accounts for the origin of the name of a
street in Florence I give it place:
LA VIA DELLA MOSCA.
"This is the way that the Via della Mosca, or the Street
of the Fly, got its name. There once dwelt in it, in a very old
house, a family which, while of rank, were not very wealthy,
and therefore lived in a retired manner. There were father,
mother, and one daughter, who was wonderfully beautifulun vero occhio di sole.
"And as the sun hath its shadow, so there was a living
darkness in this family in a donna di servizio, a servant woman
who had been many years with them, who had a daughter of
her own, who was also a beauty of a kind, but as dark as the
other was fair; the two were like day and night, and as they
differed in face, so were they unlike in soul. For the young
signora had not a fault in her; she would not have caused any
one pain even to have her own way or please her vanity, and
they say the devil will drop dead whenever he shall meet with
such a woman as that. However, he never met with this young
lady, I suppose, because he is living yet. And the young lady
was so gentle of heart that she never said an ill word of any
one, while the maid and her mother never opened their mouths
save for gossip and slander. And she was so occupied with
constant charity, and caring for poor children, and finding
work for poor people, that she never thought about her own
beauty at all, and when people told her that chi nasce bella,
x88 
HOW LA VIA DELLA MOSCA GOT ITS NAME I89
nasce maritata (Whoever is born pretty is born to be married),
she would reply,'Pretty or ugly, there are things more important in life than weddings.'
"And so far did she carry this, that she gave no heed at all
to a very gallant and handsome yet good-hearted honourable
wealthy young gentleman who lived in a palazzo opposite, and
who, from watching and admiring her, had ended by falling
desperately in love. So he made a proposal of marriage to her
through her parents, but she replied (having had her mind, in
truth, on other things) that she was too much taken up with
other duties to properly care for a husband, and that her dowry
was not sufficient to correspond to his wealth, however generous
he might be in dispensing with one. And as she was as firm
and determined as she was gentle and good, she resolutely
kept him at arm's length.   But firmness is nothing against
fate, and he'who runs away with nimble feet, in the war of
love at last will beat.' 1
"Now, if she was indifferent to the young signore, the dark
maid-servant was not, for she had fallen as much in love with
him as an evil, selfish nature would permit her, and she planned
and plotted with her mother by night and by day to bring
about what she desired. Now, the old woman, unknown to
all, was a witch, as all wicked women really are-they rot
away with vanity and self-will and evil feelings till their hearts
are like tinder or gunpowder, and then some day comes a
spark of the devil's fire, and they flash out into witches of
some kind.
"The young signore had a great love for boating on the
Arno, which was a deeper river in those days; he would often
pass half the night in his boat. Now, the mother and daughter
so contrived it that the young signorina should return very late
on a certain night from visiting the poor, accompanied by
the old woman. And when just in the middle of the Ponte
Vecchio the mother gave a whistle, and lo! there came a
sudden and terrible blast of wind, which lifted up the young
lady and whirled her over the bridge into the rushing river
underneath.
"But, as fate would have it, the young man was in his boat
just below, and fortune fell down to him, as it were, from
heaven; for seeing a form float or flit past him in the water
and the darkness, he caught at it and drew it into the boat,
I Nelia guerra d'amor, che fugge vince. 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
and truly Pilate's wife was not so astonished when the roast
capon rose up in the dish and crowed as was this boatman at
finding what he had fished up out of the stream.
"There is a saying of a very unlucky contrary sort of man
that casco in Arno ed arse (He fell in the Arno and burnt himself). But in this case, by luck, the falling of the young lady
into the river caused her heart to burn with love, for so bravely
and courteously and kindly did the young signore behave, conveying her promptly home without a sign of love-making or
hint of the past, that she began to reconsider her refusal, and
the end thereof was a betrothal, by which the mother and
daughter were maddened to think that they had only hastened
and aided what they had tried to prevent.
"Now, it is true that bad people put ten times as much
strong will and hard work into their evil acts a.3 good folk do
into better deeds, because the latter think their cause will help
itself along, while the sinners know perfectly well that they
must help themselves or lose. So the witch only persevered
the more, and at last she hit on this plan. With much devilish
ado she enchanted a comb of thorns, so that whoever was
combed with it would turn into a fly, and must remain one
till the witch bade the victim assume his or her usual form.
"Then on the bridal morn the old woman offered to comb
out the long golden locks of the young lady, and she did so,
no other person being present, so she began her incantation:
"' Earthly beauty fade away,
Maiden's form no longer stay,
For a fly thou shalt become,
And as a busy insect hum,
Hum-hunt-brtnm-brum!
Buzz-uz-uz about the room!
"'Ope thine eyes and spread thy wings,
Pass away to insect things.
Now the world will hate thee more
Than it ever loved before
When it hears thy ceaseless hum,
Buzz-uz-uz about the room!'
"And hearing this, the bride sank into a deep sleep, during
which she changed into a fly, and so soared up to the ceiling
and about the room, buzzing indeed.
"Now, with all her cleverness, the witch had missed a stitch
in her sorcery, for she had not combed hard enough to draw
blood, being afraid to wake the maid; hence it came to pass
I9o 
HOW LA VIA DELLA MOSCA GOT ITS NAME i9I
that instead of a small common fly she became a very large
and exquisitely beautiful one, with a head like gold, a silver
body, and beautiful blue and silver wings like her bridal dress.
And she was not confined to buzzing, for she had the power
to sing one verse. However, when the change took place, the
old woman rushed from the room screaming like mad, declaring that her young mistress was a witch who had turned into
a fly as soon as she had touched her with a consecrated comb
which had been dipped in holy water, and to this she added
many lies, as that a witch to avoid the holy sacrament of
marriage always changed her form, and that she had always
suspected the signorina of being a witch ever since she had
seen her fly in the wind over the Arno to the young signore.
"But when they went to look at the fly, and found it so
large and beautiful, they were amazed, nor were they less
astonished when they heard it begin to buzz with a most
entrancing strangely sweet sound, and then sing:
"'Be ye not amazed that I
Am enchanted as a fly,
Evil witchcraft was around me,
Evil witches' spells have bound me:
Now I am a fly I know,
But woe to her who made me so!'
"And when the young signore stretched out his hand, the
fly came buzzing with joy and lighted like a bird on his finger,
and this she did with great joy whenever any of the poor whom
she had befriended came to see her, and so she behaved to all
whom she had loved. And when it was observed that the
fly had no fear of holy things, but seemed to love them, all
believed in her song.
"Till one day the young signore, calling all the family and
friends together, said:'This is certainly true, that she who was
to have been my wife is here, turned into a fly. And as for
her being a witch, ye can all see that she fears neither holy
water nor a crucifix. But I believe that these women here,
her nurse and daughter, have filled our ears with lies, and that
the nurse herself is the sorceress who hath done the evil deed.
Now, I propose that we take all three, the fly, the mother, and
daughter, and hang the room with verbena, which I have provided, and sprinkle the three with much holy water, all of us
making the castagna and jettatura, and see what will come
of it.'
"Then the two witches began to scream and protest in a 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
rage, but as soon as they opened their mouths, holy water was
dashed into their faces, whereat they howled more horribly
than ever, and at last promised, if their lives should be spared
in any manner, to tell the whole truth, and to disenchant the
bride. Which they forthwith did.
"Then those present seized the witches, and said:'Your
lives shall indeed be spared, but it is only just that ere ye go
ye shall be as nicely combed, according to the proverb which
says, "Comb me and I'll comb thee!"'
"Said and done, but the combing this time drew blood, and
the mother and daughter, shrinking smaller and smaller, flew
away at last as two vile carrion-flies through the window.
"And as the story spread about Florence, every one came
to see the house where this had happened, and so it was that
the street got the name of the Via della Mosca or Fly Lane."
There is a curious point in this story well worth noting.
In it the sorceress lulls the maiden to sleep before transforming her, that is, causes her death before reviving her
with a comb of thorns. Now, the thorn is a deep symbol
of death-naturally enough from its dagger-like formall over the world wherever it grows. As Schwenck
writes:
"In the Germanic mythology the thorn is an emblem of
death, as is the nearly allied long and deep slumber-the idea
being that death kills with a sharp instrument which is called
in the Edda the sleep-thorn, which belongs to Odin the god
of death. It also occurs as a person in the Nibelungen Lied
as H6gni, Hagen,'the thorn who kills Siegfried.' The tale
of Dornr6schen (the sleeping beauty), owes its origin to the
sleep-thorn, which is, however, derived from the death-thorn,
death being an eternal sleep."
This is all true, and sleep is like death, But the soothing influence of a comb produces sleep quite apart from
any association with death.
Apropos of flies, there is a saying, which is, like all
new or eccentric sayings, or old and odd ones revived,
called " American." It is, "There are no flies on him,"
or more vulgarly, " I ain't got no flies on me," and signi
192 
HOW LA VIA DELLA MOSCA GOT ITS NAME I93
fies that the person thus exempt is so brisk and active,
and "flies round" at such a rate, that no insect has an
opportunity to alight on him. The same saying occurs in
the Proverbi Ita/iani of Orlando Pescetti, Venice, i6i8,
Non si lascia posar le mosche addossa (He lets no flies
light on him).
When I was a small boy in America, the general teaching to us was that it was cruel to kill flies, and I have
heard it illustrated with a tale of an utterly depraved little
girl of three years, who, addressing a poor fly which was
buzzing in the window-pane, said:
"Do you love your Dod,'ittle fy?"
" Do you want to see your Dod,'ittle fy?"
" Well" (with a vicious jab of the finger), "you SHALL!"
And with the last word the soul of the fly had departed
to settle its accounts in another world. Writing here in
Siena, the most fly-accursed or Beelzebubbed town in
Italy, on July 25th, being detained by illness, I love that
little angel of a girl, and think with utter loathing and
contempt of dear old Uncle Toby and his " Go-go, poor
fly!" True, I agree with him to his second "go," but
there our sentiments diverge-the reader may complete
the sentence for himself-out of Ernulphus!
On which the wise Flaxius comments as follows on the
proof with his red pencil:
"It hath been observed by the learned that the speed of a
fly, were he to make even a slight effort to go directly onwards,
would be from seventy to eighty miles an hour, during which
transit he would find far more attractive food, pleasanter places
wherein to buzz about, and more beautiful views than he meets
with in this humble room of mine, wherein I, from hour to
hour, do with a towel rise and slay his kind. Oh, reader!
how many men there are who, to soaring far and wide in life
amid honeyed flowers and pleasant places, prefer to buzz about
in short flights in little rooms where they can tease some one,
and defile all they touch as domestic gossips do-but,'tis
enough! Putato nomine de te fabula narratur / "
N 
THE ROMAN VASE
A LEGEND OF BELLOSGUARDO
" From Tuscan Bellosguardo
Where Galileo stood at nights to take
The vision of the stars, we have found it hard,
Gazing upon the earth and heavens, to make
A choice of beauty."-ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
BELLOSGUARDO is an eminence on a height, crowned
with an ancient, castle-like monastery, from which there
is a magnificent view of Florence.   It is a haunted
legendary spot; fate and witches sweep round its walls
by night, while the cry of the civetta makes music for
their aerial dance, and in the depths of the hill lie buried
mystic treasures, or the relics of mysterious beings of the
olden time, and the gnome of the rocks there has his
dwelling in subterranean caves.   Of this place I have
the following legend from Maddalena:
IL VASO ROMANO.
"There was, long ago, in the time of Duke Lorenzo di
Medici, a young gardener, who was handsome, clever, and
learned beyond the other men of his kind, a man given somewhat to witchcraft and mysteries of ancient days, for he had
learned Latin of the monks and read books of history.
"And one day when he was working with his companions
in the garden of Bellosguardo, taking out stones, they came to
an old Roman vase, which the rest would fain have broken
to pieces as a heathenish and foul thing, because there was
carved on it the figure of a beautiful Pagan goddess, and it
was full of the ashes of some dead person. But the young
man suddenly felt a great passion, a desire to possess it, and
194 
THE ROMAN VASE
it seemed as if something said to him,' Con questo vaso cie
un mistero.'
"' Mine own in truth that vase shall ever be,
For there is in it some strange mystery.'
"So he begged for it, and it was readily granted to him.
And looking at it, he perceived that it was carved of fine
marble, and that the figure on it was that of a beautiful
nymph, or a Bellaria flying in the air, and there came from
the ashes which it held a sweet odour of some perfume which
was unknown to him. Now as he had, sentito ragionare tanto
difate, heard much talk of supernatural beings, so he reflected:
' Some fata must have dwelt here in days of old, and she was
here buried, and this vase is now as a body from which the
spirit freely passes, therefore I will show it respect.'
"And so he hung round the neck of the vase a wreath of
the most beautiful and fragrant roses, and draped a veil over
it to shield it from dust, and set it up under cover in his own
garden, and sang to it as follows:
"'Vaso! o mio bel vaso!
Di rose ti ho contornato.
La rosa e un bel fior,
Piu bello e il suo odor."
"'Vase, oh lovely vase of mine!
With roses I thy neck entwine;
The rose is beautiful in bloom,
More beautiful its sweet perfume,
The finest rose above I place,
To give the whole a crowning grace,
As thou dost crown my dwelling-place
Another rose I hide within,
As thou so long hast hidden been,
Since Roman life in thee I see,
Rosa Romana thou shalt be!
And ever thus be called by me!
And as the rose in early spring
Rises to re-awakening,
Be it in garden, fair, or plain,
From death to blooming life again,
So rise, oh fairy of the flowers,
And seek again these shady bowers!
Come every morning to command
My flowers, and with thy tiny hand
Curve the green leaf and bend the bough,
And teach the blossoms how to blow;
But while you give them living care,
Do not neglect the gardener;
195 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
And as he saved your lovely urn,
I pray protect him too in turn,
Even as I this veil have twined,
To guard thee from the sun and wind:
Oh, Fairy of the Vase-to you,
As Queen of all the Fairies too,
And Goddess of the fairest flowers
In earthly fields or elfin bowers,
To thee with earnest heart I pray,
Grant me such favour as you may.' 
"Then he saw slowly rising from the vase, little by little, a
beautiful woman, who sang:
"' Tell me what is thy desire,
Oh youth, and what dost thou require?
From realms afar I come to thee,
For thou indeed hast summoned me,
With such sweet love and gentleness,
That I in turn thy life would bless,
And aye thy fond protectress be.
What would'st thou, youth, I ask, of me?'
"And the young man replied:
'Fair lady, at a glance I knew,
Thy urn and felt thy spirit too,
And straight the yearning through me sped,
To raise thee from the living dead;
I felt thy spell upon my brow,
And loved thee as I love thee now.
Even as I loved unknown before,
And so shall love thee evermore,
And happiness enough'twould be
If thou would'st ever live with me!'
"Then  the spirit replied:
"'A debt indeed to thee I owe,
And full reward will I bestow;
The roses which thou'st given me
With laurel well repaid shall be;
Without thy rose I had not risen
Again from this my earthly prison,
And as it raised me to the skies,
So by the laurel thou shalt rise!'
Viene tutte le mattine
Colle sue belle manine.
Though very rude, even to illiteracy in form, the train of thought is here
very gracefully managed in the original.
i96 
THE ROMAN VASE
"The youth answered:
"'Every evening at thy shrine
Fresh roses, lady, I will twine;
But tell me next what'tis for fate
That I must do, or what await?'
"The fairy sang:
"'A mighty mission, youth, indeed
Hast thou to fill, and that with speed,
Since it depends on thee to save
All Florence from a yawning grave,
From the worst form of blood and fire,
And sword and conflagration dire.
Thou dost the Duke Lorenzo know;
Straight to that mighty leader go!
The Chieftain of the Medici,
And tell him what I tell to thee,
That he is compassed all about
With armed enemies without,
Who soon will bold attack begin,
Linked to conspiracy within;
And bid him ere the two have crossed,
To rise in strength or all is lost,
Ring loud the storm-bell in alarms,
Summon all Florence straight to arms:
Lorenzo knows well what to do.
Take thou thy sword and battle too!
And in the fray I'll look to thee:
Go forth, my friend, to victory.'
"Then the young man went to the Duke Lorenzo, and told
him, with words of fire which bore conviction, of the great
peril which threatened him. Then there was indeed alarming
and arming, and a terrible battle all night long, in which the
young man fought bravely, having been made captain of a
company which turned the fight. And the Grand Duke, impressed by his genius and his valour, gave him an immense
reward.
"So he rose in life, and became a gran signore, and one of
the Council in Florence, and lord of Bellosguardo, and never
neglected to twine every day a fresh wreath of roses round the
Roman vase, and every evening he was visited by the fairy.
And so it went on well with him till he died, and after that
the spirit was seen no more. The witches say that the vase
is, however, somewhere still in Florence, and that while it
exists the city will prosper; but to call the fairy again it must
be crowned with roses, and he who does so must pronounce
with such faith as the gardener had, the same incantation."
I97 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
What is remarkable in the original text of this tale is
the rudeness and crudeness of the language in which it is
written, which is indeed so great that its real spirit or
meaning might easily escape any one not familiar with
such composition. But I believe that I have rendered it
very faithfully.
There seems to be that, however, in Bellosguardo which
inspires every poet. Two of the most beautiful passages
in English literature, one by Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
and another by Hawthorne, describe the views seen from it.
The castle itself is deeply impressed on my memory, for
during the past nine months I have never once raised
my eyes from the table where I write without beholding
it in full view before me across the Arno, even as I behold
it now.
I cannot help observing that the mysterious sentiment
which seized on the hero of this tale when he found his
virgin relic, was marvellously like that which inspired
Keats when he addressed his Ode to a Grecian Urn:
"Thou still unravished bride of quietness!
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
Sylvan historian who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape?"
That which I have here given is truly a leaf-fringed
legend, for it is bordered with the petals of roses and
embalmed with their perfume, and one which in the hands
of a great master might have been made into a really
beautiful poem.   It came near a very gay rhymer at
least in the Duke Lorenzo de' Medici, whose songs, which
were a little more than free, and rather more loose than
easy, were the delight and disgrace of his time. And yet
I cannot help rejoicing to meet this magnificent patron of
art and letters at so late a day in a purely popular tale.
There are men of beauty who are also a joy for ever, as
well as things, and Lorenzo was one of them.
I98 
THE ROMAN VASE9
It is worth noting that just as the fairy in this tale
reveals to Lorenzo that Florence is threatened by enemies,
just so it happened that unto Saint Zenobio, standing
rapt in divine contemplation in his cavern, it was announced that the same city was about to be assailed by
cruel barbarians, who, as Sigbert relates in his Chronicle
of 407 A.D., were the two hundred thousand Goths led by
Radagasio into Italy. But they were soon driven away
by the Saint's prayers and penitence. It would be curious
if one legend had here passed into another:
"So visions in a vision live again,
And dreams in dreams are wondrously transfused;
Gold turning into grey as clouds do change,
And shifting hues as they assume new forms."
Apropos of Saint Zenobio of Florence, I will here give
something which should have been included with the
legend of the Croce al Trebbio, but which I obtained too
late for that purpose. It would appear from the Iscrizioni
e Hemorie di Firenze, by F. Bigazzi (I887), that the
pillar of the cross was really erected to commemorate a
victory over heretics, but that the cross itself was added
by the Saints Ambrosio and Zenobio, "on account of a
great mystery "-which mystery is, I believe, fully explained by the legend which I have given. The inscription
when complete was as follows:
SANCTUS AMBROSIUS CUM SANCTO ZENOBIO PROPTER GRANDE
MISTERIUM
HUNC CRUCEM HIC LOCAVERUNT. ET IN MCCCXXXVIII
NOVITER DIE
IO AUGUSTI RECONSECRATA EST P. D. M. FRANCISC. FLOR.
EPISCOPUM UNA CUM ALIIS EPISCOPIS M.
A slightly different reading is given by Brocchi (Vite
de' Santifiorentini, I742).
199
o 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"Of which saint, be it observed," writes Flaxius, "that there
is in England a very large and widely extended family, or
stirps, named Snobs, who may claim that by affinity of name to
Zenobio they are lineally or collaterally his descendants, even
as the Potts profess connection with Pozzo del Borgo. But
as it is said of this family or gens that they are famed for
laying claim to every shadow of a shade of gentility, it may be
that there is truly no Zenobility about them. Truly there are
a great many more people in this world who are proud of their
ancestors, than there ever were ancestors who would have been
proud of them. The number of whom is as the sands of the
sea, or as Heine says,'more correctly speaking, as the mud
on the shore.'
"' The which, more eath it were for mortall wight,
To sell the sands or count the starres on hye;
Or ought more hard, then thinke to reckon right..
Which-for my Muse herselfe now tyred has,
Unto another tale I'll overpas.'"
t
200
e 
THE UNFORTUNATE PRIEST
A LEGEND OF LA VIA DELLO SCHELETRO
"Fear and trembling Hope,
Silence and Foresight-Death the Skeleton,
And Time the Shadow."-WORDSWORTH.
"If God were half so cruel as His priests,
It would go hard, I ween, with all of us."
I HAVE elsewhere remarked that there is-chiefly about
the Duomo-a gToup of small streets bearing the dismal
names of Death, Hell, Purgatory, Limbo, Crucifixion,
Our Lady of Coughing (delle Tosse), The (last) Rest of
Old Age, Gallows Lane (Via della Forca), The Tombs,
The Way of the Discontented,1 Dire Need, Small Rags,
Fag-End or Stump, Bad Payers, and finally, the Via dello
Scheletro, or Skeleton Street. To which there belongs, as
is appropriate, a melancholy legend.
LA VIA DELLO SCHELETRO.
" There once dwelt in what is now called the Street of the
Skeleton a priest attached to the Cathedral, who was in every
respect all that a good man of his calling and a true Christian
should be, as he was pious, kind-hearted, and charitable, passing his life in seeking out the poor and teaching their children,
often bringing cases of need and suffering to the knowledge
of wealthier friends-which thing, were it more frequently
done by all, would do more to put an end to poverty than
anything else.
I So called because criminals passed through it on their way to execution.
201 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"  But he who is in everything most human
May highest rise and yet the lowest fall;
And when a brave kind heart meets with the woman,
Our greatest duties seem extremely small,
And those which were the first became the least:
Even so it happened to this gentle priest.
'In the old dwelling where he had his home,
Which otherwise had been most drear and dull
At morn or eve did oft before him come
A girl as sweet as she was beautiful;
Full soon they learned that both in head and heart
Each was to each the very counterpart.
'There is in every soul of finer grain
A soul which is in self a soul apart,
Which to itself doth oft deep hid remain,
But leaps to life when Love awakes the heart.
Then as a vapour rises with the sun,
And blends with it, two souls pass into one.
'And so it came that he would sometimes kiss
Her lovely face, nor seemed it much to prove
That they in anything had done amiss.
Until, one night, there came the kiss of Love,
Disguised in friendly seeming like the rest  Alas! he drove an arrow to her breast.
"'Then came the glow of passion-new to both   The honeymoon of utter recklessness,
When the most righteous casts away his oath,
And all is lost in sweet forgetfulness,
And life is steeped in joy, without, within,
And rapture seems the sweeter for the sin.
"'Then came in its due course the sad awaking
To life and its grim claims, and all around
They found, in cold grim truth, without mistaking,
These claims for them did terribly abound;
And the poor priest was brought into despair
To find at every turn a foe was there.
"'To know our love is pure though passionate,
And have it judged as if both foul and base,
Doth seem to us the bitterness of fate;
Yet in the world it is the usual case.
By it all priests are judged-yea, every one   Never as Jesus would Himself have done.
"Da qualche bacio
Vi chascha il vero bacio d'amor."
-Original.
202 
THE UNFORTUNATE PRIEST
'Because the noblest love with passion rings,
Therefore men cry'tis all mere sexual sense,
As if the rose and the dirt from which it springs
Were one because of the same elements:
Therefore'tis true that, of all sins accurst,
Is Gossip, for it always tells the worst.
"So Gossip did its worst for these poor souls.
The bishop made the priest appear before him,
And, as a power who destiny controls,
Informed him clearly he had hell before him,
And if he would preserve the priestly stole,'
Must leave his woman-or else lose his soul I
"'Now had this man had money, or if he,
Like many of his calling, had been bold
With worldly air, then all this misery
Might have been'scaped as one escapes the cold
By putting on a sheepskin, warm and fine;
But then hypocrisy was not his line.
'His love was now a mother, and the truth
Woke in him such a deep and earnest love,
That he would not have left her though in sooth
He had been summoned by the Power above;
And so the interdict was soon applied,
But on that day both child and mother died.
'She, poor weak thing, could not endure the strain,
So flickered out, and all within a day;
And then the priest, without apparent pain,
Began mysteriously to waste away,
And, shadow-like and silent as a mouse,
Men saw him steal into, or from, the house.
"  And thinner still and paler yet he grew,
With every day some life from him seemed gone,
And all aghast, though living, men still knew
Ile had become a literal skeleton;
And so he died-in some world less severe
Than this to join the one he held so dear.2
"' Yet no one knew when'twas he passed away
Out of that shadowy form and'scaped life's power,
For still'twas seen beneath the moon's pale ray,
Or gliding through the court at twilight hour.
But there it still is seen-and so it came
The Via del Scheletro got its name."'
" Altrimenti
L'avrebbero levato il collare."-Original.
" In una altra stella
Per raggiungere la sua bella."-Origznal.
203
1 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
There is not a word of all this which is "Protestant
invention," for though I have poetised or written up a
very rude text, the narrative is strictly as I received it.
There is one point in it worth noticing, that it is a matter
of very general conviction in Italy that in such matters of
Church discipline as are involved in this story, it is the
small flies who are caught in the web, while the great
ones burst buzzing through it without harm, or that the
weak and poor (who are very often those with the best
hearts and principles) are most cruelly punished, where a
bold, sensual, vulgar frate makes light of and easily escapes
all accusations.
There is something sadly and strangely affecting in the
conception of a simply good and loving nature borne down
by the crush of the world and misapplied morality-or
clerical celibacy-into total wretchedness-a diamond dissolved to air.  One in reading this seems to hear the
sad words of one who thought his own name was written
in water:
"I am a shadow now, alas! alas!
Upon the skirts of human nature dwelling
Alone. I chant alone the holy mass,
While little signs of life are round mne kneeling,
And glossy bees at noon do fieldward pass,
And many a chapel bell the hour is telling,
Paining me through: those sounds grow strange to me,
And( thou art distant in Humanity!"
204 
THE AMYSTERIOUS FIG-TREE
A LEGEND OF THIE VIA DEL FICO
In every plant lie marvellous mysteries,
In every flower there is a dream divine;
The fig-tree bears the measure of a life,
And, as it leaves or fruits, our lives d(lo pass,
And all things in each other subtly blend."
" Ha chiappato il fico-fcum capit." -Old Proverbs.
"Quidam itidem medium digitum ostendunt, idque in Hispania adhuc
dicitur fieri, et FICA appellatur, hic illudendi actus, de quo Eryc.
Puteanus, loc. cit., p. 70."-Curiosus Amuletorum Spectator, D. Wolf,
I692.
THE following tale is, for reasons which I will subsequently explain, one of the most remarkable which I
have collected:
LA VIA DEL Fico.
"There stood formerly in the Via del Fico a very ancient
palace with a garden, in which there grew a fig-tree which was
said to have grown of itself, or without ever having been
planted. This tree bore much fruit of great beauty.
"But however proud the owner of the tree was of its beauty,
or however much he might desire to have its fruit, something
always strangely occurred to prevent its being enjoyed. For
when any one was about to pluck it, there suddenly appeared a
great black dog, who, seizing men or women by their garments,
dragged them away, beginning to howl and bay.- And then
they hurried away and let the figs alone, in order to make the
dog cease his terrible unearthly baying; for it is believed to be
an omen of death when a dog utters such sounds, it being
1 Faceva il verso del lupo, the deep baying which is a subject of superstition in all countries.
205 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
such a presage of disaster as when a civetta or small owl hoots
on the roof.
"However, it sometimes happened that the dog did not
come, but those who took and ate the figs fared just as badly
all the same. For they soon began to feel ill and suffer dire
pains, and when they had gone into their bedrooms and laid
down, there always entered a beautiful girl clad in white, who
began to whirl round (a girarsi) or spin, making all the time
a great buzzing sound, until horror came over them, which
when she perceived, she vanished.
"And many tried also to lop off boughs from the fig-tree,
but they were found the second night replaced by a perfect
new growth with fully ripe fruit. And it was not the least
marvel of the tree that it was always in full leaf, with abundance
of ripe figs on it, even in winter, when there was snow on the
ground.
"One day men digging in the garden found a tablet of stone
or metal on which was inscribed:
"'II fico rispettate
E non la toccate,
E non cercate
Neppure mangiarne.'
'Respect the tree, and let it be,
From branch to root, nor touch its fruit!
Of itself the tree did grow,
From a dog who long ago,
Enchanted by the fairies' power,
Was buried here in mystic hour;
Therefore we bid you let it stand,
And if you follow the command
You will be happy all your days,
But woe to him who disobeys!'
"Now, the owner of the palazzo and garden was a man who
had no faith in old legends, or love for such mysteries as these,
and so he said,'It is time to put an end to all this superstition, and I am determined to at once see whether all my
prosperity depends on a fig-tree; so do you cut it down and
tear it up, root and branch, utterly.'
"This was at once done by the labourers, but, while doing
so, they heard sounds as of wailing and great lamenting in the
earth beneath them. And when they, astonished, asked the
signore to listen to the voices, he replied,'Away with your
superstitions; we will see this time whether the tree will grow
or return again.'
206 
THE MYSTERIOUS FIG-TREE
"Truly it did not return, but passed away for ever, and with
it all the property and prosperity of the lord. For in time he
had to sell all he had, and, losing what he got, died in poverty.
Then those who had to go in the street where his palace had
been would say,' Andiamo nella Via del Fico,' just as they say,
' Andar per la Via de' Carr',' but meaning to'go in the way
of what is worthless or poverty-stricken,' and so it was that
the street came by its name."
This strange tale, which is evidently of great antiquity,
and deeply inspired with real witch tradition, has, indeed,
nothing in common with the pretty fairy stories which
are so generally presented as constituting the whole of
popular narrative folklore. It was not made nor intended
to serve as a pleasing tale for youth, but to embody certain ideas which the witch-teacher explained to the pupil.
The first of these is, that the fig-tree planted under certain circumstances became a kind of Luck of Eden Hall
to its possessor. This story comes from the EtruscanRoman land, where traditions have been preserved with
incredible fidelity. In the olden time Tarquin the Elder
planted a fig-tree in a public place in Rome, and it was
a matter of common faith that this tree would flourish for
ever if undisturbed, and that on it depended the prosperity
and preservation of the city.1 And in India, the motherland of Greek and Roman mythology, it was believed
that whenever one of certain ancient fig-trees died, that
the reigning family would pass away. The opinion was
widely spread that the fig-tree was above all others the
one of life and destiny.   In  the Bagvatgeta, Krishna
says of himself:  "I am  the spirit, the beginning, the
middle, and the end of creation.   I am as the Aswatha
(pipal or Indian fig) among trees." Hence it came that
many Christians believed that the Tree of Life in Eden
was not an apple but a fig-tree. The traditions which
establish the fig-tree as being above all others one on
1 Friedrich, "Symbolik der Natur."
207 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
whose existence that of individuals, families, and states
depended, are extremely numerous and varied.   " It
was," remarks Alt, " not only a symbol of fertility, but an
emblem of ever-renewed and never-extinguished vitality,
and one of eternity, the resurrection, and of the transmigration of the soul."   On  the celebrated  altar in
Ghent, the Tree of Life is represented as a fig-tree
(Menzel, Christlichie Symbolik, i. 277). This universal
belief explains why the fig-tree determines the duration
and destiny of lives and families.
It may have struck the reader as singular that those
who eat of the forbidden figs are punished by the visit of
a beautiful girl who whirls around with a buzzing sound
till they are overcome by awe. Here be it noted first of
all, that the fig, like the pear, is exactly the shape of a
top, even the stem representing the peg. Now, in ancient
Latin witchlore or sorcery, extraordinary magic power,
or even sanctity, was attached to everything which made
a humming or buzzing sound. It was supposed, when
properly made, with certain incantations or instruments,
to be capable of throwing people into a trance. Chief
among these instruments was the top. Thus Horace begs
Crattidia to stop the enchantment of the buzzing top
(Ode xv. Book v.).
On this subject I find the following in Diavoli e Streghe,
by Dr. A. Zangolini, i864:
"The rombo I is an instrument not unlike the trottola or
peg-top of our boys, called in Latin turbo, and in common
language also palo.  It was believed that with it in witchcraft
a lover could have his head turned with passion, or that he
would be turned at will while it spun. The same held true
of other disks (tee-totums) of wood, iron, or copper."
This idea was extended to the hum of spinining-wheels,
which aided the conception of the Fates, and the thread
1 A humming-top.
208 
THE MYSTERIOUS FIG-TREE
of life, to the buzzing of bees and flies, and many other
variations of such sounds.   Mr. Andrew Lang has in
an admirable paper shown that the bull-roarer has been
regarded as so sacred among certain savages that women,
or the profane, were not allowed to touch it. A bullroarer is so easily constructed, that it is remarkable how
few people are familiar with it. Take a common stick,
say six inches in length, tie a cord three feet long to one
end, and, grasping the other, whirl it round, with the
result of astonishing all to whom it is not familiar by its
sound:
" First it is but a gentle hum,
Like bird-song warbling in the trees,
Then like a torrent it doth foam,
And then a wild and roaring breeze."
When vigorously spun, it may be heard of a calm
evening for a mile, and its effect is then indescribablyI will not say, as most novelists here would, "weird," for
I do not know that it prophesies anything, but it is certainly most suggestive of something mysterious.
Therefore the bayadere, with her spinning pas seul and
buzzing romore, who appears to the eater of the figs, is
the magic top in person, her form being taken from the
fig. The connection of the enchanted dog with the tree
is not so clear, but it may be observed that there is a
vast mass of tradition which makes the black dog a
chthonic, that is, a subterranean or under-earthly symbol,
and that in this story he comes out of the earth. This
animal was a special favourite of Hecate-Diana of the
world below, the queen of all the witches.
There is a vast quantity of folklore in reference to the
fig as an emblem of fertility, reproduction, and sensual
affinity, and, on the other side, of its being an emblem
often used in proverbs to express the very contrary, or
trifling value, worthlessness, and poverty.   Thus, the
barren fig-tree of the New Testament had a deep signification to all who were familiar with these poetic and
0
209
I 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
mystic "correspondences."   The  reader has probably
observed that in this story there is, as in a parable, a
strong intimation of symbolism, or as if more were meant
than meets the ear.
"Remains to be said," that the putting the thumb
between the index and middle finger, which was regarded
with awe by the Romans as driving away evil spirits,
was called "making the fig," or far la castagna, to make
the chestnut-in Latin, medium ostendere digitum.  The
same sign as the fig to drive away devils became a deadly
insult when made at any one, as if he were a wizard and
accursed. It had also a jeering and indecent meaning.
It has been said that the fig, as a synonym for anything
worthless, originated from the great abundance and cheapness of the fruit in Greece, but this is very unsatisfactory,
since it would apply as well to olives or grain.
"This tale doth teach," notes the learned Flaxius, "as
regards the folklore of the black dog, that in this life most
things are good or bad, as we take them. For the black dog,
Monsieur, of Cornelius Agrippa (like that in Faust) was a
demon, albeit his pupil, Wierus, records that he himself knew
the animal well, but never supposed there was aught of the
goblin in it. And this same Wierus has mentioned (loc. cit.,
p. m. 325), that one of the things which most terrify the devil
and all his gang is the blood of a black dog splashed on the
wall. So in ancient symbolism death meant life, the two
being correlative, and in witchcraft the spell of the frog and
many more are meant to do deadly harm, or great good,
according to the way in which they are worked. Wherein
lies an immense moral lesson for ye all. Remember, children
"' There is no passion, vice, or crime,
Which truly, closely understood,
Does not, in the full course of time,
Do far less harm than good.'"
210
I 
IL PALAZZO FERONI
SHOWING HOW IT GOT ITS NAME FROM A FAIRY
"Ah me! what perils do environ
The man who meddles with cold iron!
Thus sang great Butler long ago,
In Hudibras, as all men know;
But in this story you will see
How Iron was sold by irony."
ONE of the most picturesque medieval palaces in Florence
is that of the Feroni, and its architectural beauty is greatly
enhanced by its fine situation at the head of the Tornabuoni on the Piazza della Trinita, with the magnificent
column of the Medicis just before its gate. According to
Italian authority, "this palace may be called, after those
of the Proetorio (i.e., Bargello) and the Signoria, the most
characteristic building of its epoch in Florence.   It is
said to have been built by Arnolfo di Cambio. It once
belonged to the Spini, from whom it passed to the Feroni."
When I was in Florence in I846-47, this palace was the
best hotel in Florence, and the one in which I lived.
There have been great "restorations " in the city since
that time, but very few which have not been most discreditably and foolishly conducted, even to the utter
destruction of all that was truly interesting in them; as,
for instance, "the house of Dante, torn down within a
few years to be rebuilt, so that now not one stone rests
upon another of the original; " and "Santa Maria Novella,
where the usual monkish hatred of everything not rococo
and trashy has shown itself by destroying beautiful work
of earlier times, or selling it to the Kensington Museum,
2II 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
setting up a barbarously gilt gingerbread high altar, and
daubing the handsome Gothic sacristy with gaudy colours."
To which the author of Murray's "Guide-Book for Central Italy" adds, that "perhaps on the whole list of ecclesiastical restorations there does not exist a more deplorable
instance of monastic vandalism than has been perpetrated
here by the architect Romoli "-a remark which falls
unfortunately very far short of the truth. Such ruin is
wrought everywhere at present; witness the beautiful
Fonte Gaja, "the masterpiece of Jacopo della Quercia in
Siena (I402), which, since the change of Government,
was not'restored,' but totally destroyed and carted away,
a miserable modern copy having been recently set up in
its place" (Hare, " Cities of Central Italy "), all of which
was probably done to "make. a job" for a favoured builder.
"But what can you expect," adds a friend, "in a country
where it is common to cover a beautiful dry stone wall
with plaster, and then paint it over to resemble the original
stone," because, as I was naively told, "the rough stone
itself looks too cheap "?  Anybody who has lived long in
Italy can add infinitely to such instances. The Palazzo
Feroni has, however, suffered so little, for a wonder, from
restoration, and still really looks so genuinely old, that it
deserves special mention, and may serve as an excuse for
my remarks on the manner in which ancient works are
destroyed so con amore by monks and modern municipalities. I may here note that this building is, in a sense,
the common rendezvous for all the visitors to Florence,
chiefly English and Americans, since in it are the very
large circulating library and reading-rooms of Vieusseux.,
There is, of course, a legend attached to the Palazzo
Feroni, and it is as follows:
1 The Philological Society (Circolo), has also its rooms in this building.
212 
IL PALAZZO FERONI
IL PALAZZO FERONI.
"The Signore Pietro, who afterwards received the name
Feroni, was a very rich man, and yet hated by the poor, on
whom he bestowed nothing, and not much liked by his equals,
though he gave them costly entertainments; for there was in
all the man and in his character something inconsistent and
contradictory, or of comrna contra croce-' the horns against the
cross,' as the proverb hath it, which made it so that one never
knew where to have him:
"'  Un, al monte, e l'altro al pian,
Quel che, e oggi, non e doman.'
"' On the hill in joy, in the dale in sorrow  One thing to-day, and another to-morrow.'
"For to take him at every point, there was something to
count off. Thus in all the city there was no one-according
to his own declaration-who was
Richer or more prosperous,
Or who had enjoyed a better education,
Or who had such remarkable general knowledge of every         thing taking place,
Or more of a distinguished courtier,
Or one with such a train of dependants, and people of
all kinds running after him,
Or more generally accomplished,
Or better looking  "And finally, no one so physically strong, as he was accustomed to boast to everybody on first acquaintance, and give
them proofs of it-he having heard somewhere that'physical
force makes a deeper impression than courtesy.'   But all
these fine gifts failed to inspire respect (and here was another
puzzle in his nature), either because he was so tremendously
vain that he looked down on all mortals as so many insects,
and all pretty much alike as compared to himself, or else from
a foolish carelessness and want of respect, he made himself
quite as familiar with trivial people as with anybody.'
"One evening the Signore Pietro gave a grand ball in his
palace, and as the guests came in-the beauty and grace and
1 Perche si rendeva alle persone troppo triviale-A graphic sketch of
a character who would be peculiarly offensive in a highly patrician community.
213 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
courtly style of all Italy in its golden time-he half closed his
eyes, lazily looking at the brilliant swarm of human butterflies
and walking flowers, despising while admiring them, though
if he had been asked to give a reason for his contempt he
would have been puzzled, not having any great amount of
self-respect for himself. And they spun round and round in
the dance....
"When all at once he saw among the guests a lady,
unknown to him, of such striking and singular appearance as
to rouse him promptly from his idle thought. She was indeed
wonderfully beautiful, but what was very noticeable was her
absolutely ivory white complexion, which hardly seemed human,
her profuse black silken hair; and most of all her unearthly
large jet-black eyes, of incredible brilliancy, with such a strange
expression as neither the Signore Pietro nor any one else
present had ever seen before. There was a power in them, a
kind of basilisk-fascination allied to angelic sweetness-fire
and ice... ostra e tramontan-a hot and cold wind.
"The Signore Pietro, with his prompt tact, made the lady's
paleness a pretence for addressing her.' Did she feel illeverything in the house was at her disposition
"'Servants, carpets, chairs and tables,
Kitchen, pantry, hall and stables,
Everything above or under;
All my present earthly plunder,
All too small for such a wonder.'
"The lady, with a smile and a glance in which there was
not the slightest trace of being startled or abashed, replied:
" "Tis not worth while your house to rifle,
0 mio Sigzno-, for such a trifle.
'Tis but a slight indisposition,
For which I'll rest, by your permission.'
"The Signore Pietro, as an improvisatore, was delighted
with such a ready answer, and remarking that he was something of a doctor, begged permission to bring a soothing cordial,
admirable for the nerves, which he hoped to have the honour
of placing directly in that fairy-like hand.... The Signore
vanished to seek the calmante.
"The guests had begun by this time to notice this lady,
and from her extremely strange appearance they gathered
round her, expecting at first to have some sport in listening to,
214 
IL PALAZZO FERONI
or quizzing, an eccentric or a character. But they changed their
mind as they came to consider her-some feeling an awe as if
she were a fata, and all being finally convinced that whoever
she was she had come there to sell somebody amazingly cheap,
nor did they feel quite assured that they themselves were not
included in the bargain.
"The Signore Pietro returned with the soothing cordial;
he had evidently not drunk any of it himself while on the
errand, for there was a massive chased iron table inlaid with
gold and silver in his way, and the mighty lord with an angry
blow from his giant arm, like one from a blacksmith's No. X
hammer, broke it, adding an artisan-like oath, and knocked it
over. Flirtation had begun.
"' Did you hurt yourself, Signore?' asked the lady amiably.
"'Not I, indeed,' he replied proudly.'A Stone is my
name, but it ought to have been Iron, lady, for I am hard as
nails, a regular Ferrone or big man of iron, and all my ancestors were Ferroni too; ah! we are a strong lot-at your service!'  Saying this he handed the cup to the lady, who drank
the potion, and then, instead of giving the goblet back to the
Signore Pietro, as he expected, meaning to gallantly drink off
les doux restes, she beckoned with her finger and an upward
scoop of her hand to the table, which was lying disconsolately
on its back with its legs upwards, like a trussed chicken waiting
to be carved, when lo! at the signal it jumped up and came
walking to her like a Christian, its legs moving most humanly,
and yet all present were appalled at the sight, and the Signore
gasped  "' I believe the devil's in it!'
"The lady composedly placed the draught on the table and
smiled benevolently.   There was something in that angelic
smile which made the Signore feel as if he had been made
game of. In a rage he rushed at the table, which reared up
on its hind legs and showed fight with its forepaws, on which
there were massy round iron balls, as on the other extremities.
Truly it was a desperate battle, and both combatants covered
themselves with dust and glory. Now the table would put a
ball well in, and the Signore would counter, or, as I may say,
cannon or cannon-ball it off; and then they would grapple and
roll over and over till the Signora called them to time. At
last the lord wrenched all the cannon-balls off from the table,
which first, making a jump to the ceiling, came down in its
usual position, while the balls began dancing on it like mad.
2I5 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"At such a sight all present roared with laughter, and it
was observed that the lady, no longer pale, flushed with merriment like a rose. As for Signore Pietro he was red as a beet,
and heaved out that he had been canzonato or quizzed.
"'Truly yes,' replied the lady;' but henceforth you shall
have a name, for to do you justice you are as hard as iron,
and Iron you shall be called-Big Iron Ferrone-and cannonballs shall be your coat-of-arms, in secula seculorumn.   By
edict of the Queen of the Fairies!'
"Now at this all the love in the Signore Pietro concentrated
itself in his heart, passed into his tongue, and caused him to
burst forth in song in the following otava, while the music
accompanied:
"' Quando vedo le femmine rammone,
Mi sento andare il cuore in convulsione,
Hanno certe facette vispe e sane,
Da fare entrare in sen la tentazione,
Oh donnina! Non siate disumana!
Di Pietro abbiate compassione!
Scusante la modestia se l'e troppo
Di questi personali non sene poppo.'
"'When I behold thy all too lovely features,
I feel my heart in soft convulsions heaving,
Thou art the most entrancing of all creatures,
I tell you so in sooth, without deceiving,
In fact there is no beauty which can beat yours;
And Pietro loves you, lady, past believing;
In breasts like cannon-balls there's naught to blame;
But oh! I hope your heart's not like the same!'
"But as this exquisite poem concluded with an immense
sigh, there appeared before them a golden and pearl car, in
which the fairy entered, and rising sailed away through a great
hole in the ceiling, which opened before and closed behind
her, Signore Pietro remaining a bocca aperta, gaping with
opened jaws, till all was o'er.
"' Well!' exclaimed the master,'she gave me the slip, but
we have had a jolly evening of it, and I'm the first man who
ever fought an iron table, and I've got a good idea. My name
is now Feroni-the Big Iron Man-ladies and gentlemen, please
remember, and cannon-balls are in my coat-of-arms!"'
I have naturally taken somne liberty as regards mere
text in translating this tale, in order to render the
2i6 
IL PALAZZO FERONI
better the spirit of the original; but not so much as may
be supposed, and spirit and words are, on the whole,
accurately rendered.
The reader is not to suppose that there are any traces
of true history in this fairy tale.   I am  very greatly
indebted to Miss Wyndham of Florence (who has herself made collections in folk-lore), for investigating this
subject of the Feroni family, with the following result
-it being premised that it had occurred to the lady
that the "cannon-balls" or Medicean pills, or pawnbroker's sign, whatever it was, had been attributed by
mistake to the Feroni. Miss Wyndham, after consulting
with authority, found that the Feroni themselves had not
the balls, but, owing probably to transfer of property,
there is found on their palaces the Alessandri shield, on
which the upper half and lower left quarter contain the
Medici spheres. She also sent me this extract from the
old work, Marietta di Ricci:
"The Feroni family, originally named from Balducci da
Vinci, and of peasant origin, owes its fortune to Francesco,
son of Baldo di Paolo di Ferone, a dyer of Empoli. Going
as a merchant to Holland, he accumulated a large fortune.
Made known to Cosimo III. (just called to the Grand Duchy)
by his travels, he was called to Florence. In i673 he was
made citizen of Florence, in i674 he was elected senator, and
in i68I appointed Marquis of Bellavista. He left a colossal
fortune, which has been kept up by his heirs to the present
day.  His grandson Guiseppe was made cardinal in 1753.
"Their arms are an arm mailed in iron, holding a sword,
and above it a golden lily in a blue field."
This extract is interesting, as showing how a family
could rise by industry and wealth, even in one generation,
by the work of a single man, to the highest honours in
Florence. And it is very remarkable that some impression of the origin of this vigorous artisan and merchant,
of peasant stock, is evident in the tale. He is there clever
217 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
and strong, but vulgar and familiar, so that he was not
personally liked. He remains standing open-mouthed,
like a comic actor, when the fairy vanishes. In fact the
whole tale suggests the elements of a humorous melodrama or operetta, a bourgeois gentilhomme.
"And should it come to pass that any read
This tale in Viesseux, his library,
In the Feroni palace, let them think
That, even in the rooms where they do read,
The things which I have told once came to pass Even so the echo ever haunts the shrine!"
218 
LA VIA DELLE BELLE DONNE
"The church of San Gaetano, on the left of the Via Tornabuoni, faces
the Palazzo Antinori, built by Giuliano di San Gallo. Opposite is the
Via delle Belle Donne, a name, says Leigh Hunt, which it is a sort of tune
to pronounce."-HARE, Cities of Central Italy.
THE name of this place is suggestive of a story of some
kind, but it was a long time before I obtained the following relative to the Street of Pretty Women:
"In the Via delle Belle Donne there was a very large old
house in which were many lodgers, male and female, who,
according to their slender means, had two rooms for a family.
Among these were many very pretty girls, some of them seamstresses, others corset-makers, some milliners, all employed in
shops, who worked all day and then went out in the evening
to carry their sewing to the naggazini. And it was from them
that the street got its name, for it became so much the fashion
to go and look at them that young men would say,' Andiamo
nella Via delle Belle Donne,'-' Let us go to the Street of the
Pretty Women;' so it has been so-called to this day.
"And when they sallied forth they were at once surrounded
or joined by young men, who sought their company with
views more or less honourable, as is usual. Among these
there was a very handsome and wealthy signore named Adolfo,
who was so much admired that he might have had his choice
of all these belles, but he had fixed his mind on one, a
beautiful blonde, who was, indeed, the fairest among them all.
She had large black eyes, with quick glances, beautiful light
hair in masses, and was always dressed simply, yet with natural
elegance. She had long avoided making acquaintance among
men, and she now shunned Adolfo; but at last he succeeded,
after many difficulties, in becoming acquainted, and finally
won her heart-the end of it all being the old story of a poor
girl ruined by a gay and great signor, left a mother, and then
abandoned.
219 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"For four years she lived alone, by her work, with her child,
who grew up to be a very beautiful boy. Then he, noting
that other children had parents, asked her continually,'Mamma,
where is my papa?'
"He gave her no rest, and at last she went to Adolfo and
asked him what he would do for their child.
"He laughed at her, and said,'Nothing.  That folly is all
over. Begone!'
"Then, in a wild passion of rage at seeing her child so
despised, she stabbed him to the heart, and escaped unseen
and undiscovered.
"Then, when the boy asked her again:
"'Cara madre, cara madre,
Dove e lo mio padre?'
"' Mother dear, tell to me
Where may my father be?'
"She replied:
"' Darling son, thy sire is dead,
Lying in an earthen bed;
Dead he ever will remain,
By my dagger he was slain.
Had he but been kind to thee,
Living still he yet would be;
Other sorrows I forgave,
With my dirk I dug his grave.'
This is but a commonplace story, yet it is such as finds
more currency among the people, and particularly among
girls, than many a better one. There is a strong touch
of nature, and especially of Italian nature, in the concluding lines.
1 " Col mio pugnale ammazato,
Col pugnale e sotterato."
220 
THE WIZARD WITH RED TEETH
"And dost thou fear to greet
The Dead with me. T'hey graced our wedding sweet."
-MOORE, The Veiled Protphet of Kkorassan.
THE following ballad may be classed as Florentine, since
it was in Florence that I heard it sung, but it is not
attached to any particular place. It is one of those compositions which are either sung or simply recited, and
quite as often intoned in a manner which is neither singing nor speaking. In such chant, when a rhyme happens
to fall in by chance, the utmost is made of it by dwelling
on the word or drawling it out. Sometimes, as in the
following, there are verses of four lines each, but only
the concluding line of every verse rhymes, i.e., with the
preceding last line of the previous stanza:
IL STREGHONE COi DENTI Rossi.
"C'era un gran signore
Che una bella figlia aveva,
Far la felice lo credeva,
Col far la maritar.
"' Babbo, no'voglio marito,
Prendo uno soltanto,
Se si uomo coi dente rossi,
Di famelo trovar.'
"' Figlia, non e possibile
A me mi strazzi il cuor
Avanti di morire
Vo farti tranquillo il cuor.'
221 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"Un giorno allor comparvi,
Un giovane assai bello,
E denti rossi li teneva,
La sua figlia, Amelia,
'Mi dica dove ella.'
"' Io lo vo sposare,
E con me la vo' portare.'
'Dimmi dove la porti,
Giovane sconosciuto,
La mia figlia no ti rifiuto,
Coi denti rossi lo vuol sposar?'
"Sposa la siora Amelia,
E se la porta via.
La casa dove sia,
Questo poi non lo sa.
"La porta in una capanna,
Di foglie, legno, e fieno,
' Ortello fa sapere,
Se vuoi saper chi sono.
"' Io sono un' streghone,
Te'l giuro in verita,
La notte a mezzanotte
Io ti faccio levar.
"' Ti porto al camposanto,
A sotterar i morti;
E se tu vuoi mangiar,
Quel sangue, bella mia,
Tu l'ai da succiar.'
"La giovana disperata,
Piange, grida e si dispera,
Ma rimedio piu non v'era
Anche lei una strega,
Toccava diventar."
TRANSLATION.
"There was a grand signore
Who had a daughter fair;
He longed to see her happy,
And wished that she were wed.
222
I 
THE WIZARD WITH RED TEETH
"' Oh, father! I would not marry,
I have vowed to have for my husband
One with teeth as red as coral.
Oh! find him for me,' she said.
"' My daughter, it is not possible,
You wring and pain my heart.
Ere I die and pass away
I would fain be at peace,' said he.
"One day there appeared before her
A knight of goodly seeming,
His teeth were red as coral.
Said the beautiful Amelia,
' There is the spouse for me.'
"' I will marry her,' said the knight,
'And bear her with me away.'
' Tell me where wilt thou take her,
Thou strange and unknown man.
I do not refuse her to thee,
But whither wilt thou roam?'
"He married fair Amelia,
And carried her far away.
' Where is the house thou dwell'st in?
And say where is thy home?'
"He took her to a cabin,
All leaves and sticks and hay,
'My true name is Ortello.
To-night, at the hour of midnight,
I will carry thee away.
"'I will bear thee to the graveyard
To dig up the newly dead;
Then if thou hast thirst or hunger
Thou mayst suck the blood of the corpses,'
To her the Sorcerer said.
"She wept in desperate sorrow,
She wrung her lily hand,
But she was lost for ever,
And in the witches' band."
223 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
This was, and is, a very rude ballad; its moral appears
to be that feminine caprice and disregard of parental love
must be punished. It is very remarkable as having to
perfection that Northern or German element which Goethe
detected in a Neapolitan witch-song given in his Italian
journey.' It has also in spirit, and somewhat strangely
in form, that which characterises one of Heine's most
singular songs. It impresses me, as I was only yesterday impressed in the Duomo of Siena at finding, among
the wood-carvings in the choir, Lombard grotesques which
were markedly Teutonic, having in them no trace of anything Italian.
"Quaint mysteries of goblins and strange things,
We scarce know what-half animal half vine,
And beauteous face upon a toad, from which
Outshoots a serpent's tail-the Manicore,
A mixture grim of all things odd and wild,
The fairy-witch-like song of German eld."
1 Since writing the foregoing, I have found in A4m Urquelle, vol. vi. 3,
May I895, a legend credited to a book by A. Bondeson, Historic Gulbar
pa Dal (Stockholm, I886), or a story entitled "The Lover with a Green
Beard," which is much the same in incident as this. The editor, H. Feilberg, notices the affinity of this and other tales to the Vampyre and Burger's
"Leonora."
224 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE
"Wherever beauty dwells,
In gulf or aerie mountains or deep dells,
Thou pointest out the way, and straight'tis won,
Thou leddest Orpheus through the gleams of death."
-KEATS.
"Silvestres homines sacer interpres que Deorum
Cedibus et victu deterruit ORPHEUS.
Dictus ob hoc lenire tigres, rabidosque Leones
-HORACE.
IT may have happened to the reader, in his travels, to
trace in some majestic mountain-land, amid rocky ravines,
that which was, perhaps, in prehistoric times a terrible
torrent or a roaring river. I mean, indeed, such a furious
flood as is now unknown on earth, one which tore away
the highest hills like trifles, melting them in a minute to
broad alluvials, and ground up the grandest granite cliffs
to gravel-dust, even as a mighty mill grates grain to
flour.
You trace the course of the ancient river which when
young vaulted the valley, which it had made, on either
side with overhanging precipices, which now bend like
silent mourners over its grave. And it seems to be dead
and buried for ever.
Yet it may chance that, looking more deeply into its
course to see if, perhaps, some flakes of antique gold are
not to be found in the bed of the old water-course, you
hear deep in some rocky crevice far below, and out of
sight, the merry gurgle or voice-like murmur of a spring
or unseen rivulet which indicates that the river of ancient
days is not quite lost in the land. Unsuspected, like the
225P
225
p 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
sapphire serpent of Eastern legend, that diamond-clear
rivulet has wound its mysterious course deep in the earth
for ages, and, following its sound, you may come to some
place where it again leaps forth into sunlight-little, indeed, yet ever beautiful. It is almost touching to see
that diminished rill creeping timidly round the feet of
giant boulders which it once rent in sport from the
mighty rocks, and rolled into what were for it in its
whilom power, mere marbles. It is small now, and very
obscure, yet it lives and is ever beautiful.
Such a stream, which I traced yesterday in an ancient
gorge in the heart of the Apennines, where the grey
tower of Rocca looks down on the mysterious Ponte del
Diavolo of the twelfth century-the most picturesque
bridge in Italy-forcibly reminds me of the human
stream of old tradition which once, as marvellous mythology or grand religion, roared and often raged over all
this region, driving before it, and rending away, all the
mighty rocks of human will, now tearing down and anon
forming stupendous cliffs of observances, and vast monoliths of legend and faith. Such were the Etruscan and
early Roman cults, which drove before them and engulfed
irresistibly all the institutions of their time, and then
disappeared so utterly that men now believe that the
only remaining record of their existence is in their tombs
or rocky relics of strange monuments.
But by bending low to earth, or seeking among the
people, we may hear the murmur of a hidden stream of
legend and song which, small and shrunken as it may be,
is still the veritable river of the olden time. Many such
streams are running in many lands, and that full openly
on the earth's surface, but this to which I specially refer
is strangely occult and deeply hidden, for to find it we
must seek among the strege and stregoni, or witches and
sorcerers, who retain as dark secrets of their own, marvellous relics of the myths of the early ages. These are,
226 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE
in many cases, so strangely quaint and beautiful that they
would seem to have kept something of an original perfume
which has utterly perished in the dried flowers of tradition
preserved in books, or even by poets.
This seems to me to be the case with the incantation
to Orpheus, which is now before me, written in rude
dialect, which indicates, so to speak, the depth of the
earth from which it was taken. I had asked the woman
who gave it to me whether she knew such a name as
that of Orpheus or Orfeo, as connected with music. This
was the reply which I received:
ORFEO.
Scongiurazione a Orfeo ter suonare bene uno Zuffolo. This
is the invocation to Orpheus for him who would fain become
a good player on the shepherd's pipe.'
SCONGIURAZIONE.
"Ogni giorno io mi metto
Questo zuffolo a suonare,
Per poterlo bene inparare,
E a preso dei maestri
Per potermi fare insegnare,
Ma non so come mi fare,
Nella testa non mi vuole entrare,
A che partito mi devo apigliare:
Io non so come mi fare;
Ma tu Orfeo che siei tanto chapace
Per lo zuffolo, e il violino,
Suoni bene pur lo organino,
La chitarra e il mandolino,
La gran cassa, il trombone,
Suoni bene lo clarino,
E non'ce uno strumento
Che tu Orfeo tu non sia
1 Zufolo-a rude flageolet, such as is still commonly played by the
shepherds all over Italy.
227 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
Chapace di bene suonare,
Per la musicha siei molto bravo,
E tu ai ogni potenza,
Che da diavoli siei protetto,
Dunque insegnami come fare,
Questo zuffolo va scongiurare,
Per poter bene suonare,
Questo zuffolo lo prendo,
Sotto terra io lo metto,
E tre giorni ce lo fo stare,
A fine che tu Orfeo,
Bene tu me lo facci a suonare;
Che tanto siei amante
Di suonare sarai amante,
Pur d'insegnare per quanto
Ai soferto la tua Auradice,
Dal inferno non potere levare,
Ma vollo lei a preghare,
Che ti aiuti questo zuffolo volere suonare,
E tu che sempre e di musicha,
Siei chapace che fino
Le bestie ti vengono ascoltare,
Orfeo! Orfeo! ti prego;
Orfeo! volermi insegnare
Questo zuffolo bene suonare,
E appena suonero,
I1I maestro musicho Orfeo ringraziero,
E a tutti sempre faro,
Sapere a chi mi a dato,
Questo talento che le stato,
Orfeo dal inferno lo scongiurato,
E per la musicha o tanto,
Pasione al mio zuffolo a dato,
Lezione e lo zuffolo e un strumento
Che ne son tanto inamorato
Che dai miei vecchi era molto ramentato,
E sempre mi dicevano,
Se dinparar lo non siei chapace,
Orfeo devi scongiurare;
E cosi io faro,
E Orfeo preghero!"
228 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE
TRANSLATION.
Every day I try, and yet
I cannot play the flageolet;
Many masters I have sought,
Naught I learned from all they taught;
I am dull,'tis very true,
And I know not what to do
In this strait, unless it be,
Great Orpheus, to come to thee;
Thou who the greatest skill didst win,
On flageolet and violin,
Who play'st the organ, pealing far,
The mandolin and the guitar,
Thou wak'st the clarion's stirring tone,
The rattling drum and loud trombone;
On earth there is no instrument,
Whate'er it be, to mortals sent,
Enchanting every sense away,
Which thou, 0 Orpheus! canst not play;
Great must thy skill in music be,
Since even the demons favour thee;
And since on this my heart is set,
Enchant, I pray, this flageolet,
And that its tones may sweetly sound,
I bury it beneath the ground;
Three days shall it lie hidden thus,
Till thou, 0 mighty Orpheus!
Shalt wake in it by magic spell
The music which thou lov'st so well.
I conjure thee by all the woe
Which grieved thy soul so long ago!
And pain, when thy Auradice
From the dark realmn thou couldst not free,
To grant me of thy mighty will
That I may play this pipe with skill,
Even as thou hast played before;
For, as the story runs, of yore,
Whenever thou didst wake its sound,
The forest beasts came raptured round.
Orpheus! Orpheus! I pray,
Orpheus! teach me how to play!
229 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
And when sweet music forth I bring,
On every chord thy name shall ring,
And every air which charms shall be
A hymn of thanks, great lord, to thee!
And unto all I'll make it known,
I owe it all to thee alone,
And of the wondrous skill I'll tell,
Which mighty Orpheus won from hell.
And by the music, and the power,
Of passion in me, from this hour
Henceforth in this sweet instrument
I shall be ever well content;
For now, I do remember well,
What'twas my father oft would tell,
That all who would learn music thus
Must conjure mighty Orpheus,
Even as I have done to-day,
So I to him will ever pray."
To which the manuscript adds in prose:
"Thus the peasants do when they do not succeed in playing
the shepherd's pipe, which they esteem beyond any other
instrument."
To any one who fully feels and understands what is
meant to be conveyed by this incantation-and a great
deal is expressed by passionate singing and a deep thrilling intonation which the text does not give-my translation will appear to be quite accurate. But, in any case,
no scholar or poet can deny that there is in it a strange
depth of classic feeling, or of old Roman romance, not
strained at second-hand through books, but evidently
drawn from rude antiquity, which is as fresh in its ring
as it is marvellous.
It may be observed as exquisitely curious that in this
incantation the peasant who wishes to become a skilled
performer on the flageolet buries it for three days in the
ground, invoking Orpheus by what the spirit suffered in
losing Eurydice, and subsequently distinctly declaring
230 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE
that he won or conjured his great musical power from
Hades, which means that by the penance and loss, and
his braving the terrors of the Inferno, he gained skill.
This is a mighty element of the myth in all its forms, in
all ages, in every country. The burying the instrument
for three days probably typifies the three days during
which Orpheus was in hell.
It may be observed that Eurydice has become Auradice
in the incantation, in which there is probably an intimation of Aura, a light wind or zephyr.  Air is so naturally
associated with music. This, by a very singular coincidence, yet certainly due to mere chance, recalls the
invocation to the Spirit of the Air, given by Bulwer in
"The Last Days of Pompeii":
Spectre of the viewless air,
Hear the blind Thessalian's prayer,
By Erichtho's art that shed
Dews of life when life was fled,
By lone Ithaca's wise king,
Who could wake the crystal spring
To the voice of prophecy
By the lost Eurydice!
Summoned from the shadowy throng,
At the muse-son's magic song:
Come, wild Demon of the Air,
Answer to thy votary's prayer."
It is indeed very remarkable that in the call to the God
of Music, who is in certain wise a spirit of the air, as in
that to the Spirit of the Air himself, both are invoked:
" By the lost Eurydice!"
If it could be shown that Bulwer owed this poem and
allusion to any ancient work or tradition, I should be
tempted to believe that the popular invocation was derived
from some source in common with the latter. There is
indeed a quaint naive drollery in the word Auradice"Air-tell!" or "Air-declare!" which adapts it better to
the spirit of Bulwer's poem, in which the air is begged to
23I 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
tell something, than to the Orphean or Orphic spell. It
may be that the Orphic oracles were heard in the voice
of the wind, apropos of which latter there is a strange
Italian legend and an incantation to be addressed to all
such mystic voices of the night, which almost seems reechoed in "Lucia":
"Verrano a te sull' aure,.
I miei sospiri ardenti,
Udrai nell mar che mormora
L'eco de miei lamenti!"
It is worth observing that this tradition, though derived
from the Romagna, was given to me in Florence, and
that one of the sculptures on the Campanile represents
Orpheus playing the pipe to wild beasts. It is said that
in the Middle Ages the walls of churches were the picturebooks of the people, where they learned all they knew of
Bible legends, but not unfrequently gathered many strange
tales from other sources. The sculptors frequently chose of
their own will scenes or subjects which were well known
to the multitude, who would naturally be pleased with
the picturing what they liked, and it may be that Orpheus
was familiar then to all. In any case, the finding him in
a witch incantation is singularly in accordance with the
bas-relief of the Cathedral of Florence, which again fits
in marvellously well with Byron's verse:
"Florence! whom I will love as well
As ever yet was said or sung,
Since Orpheus sang his spouse from hell,
Whilst thou art fair and I am young.
"Sweet Florence! those were pleasant times,
When worlds were staked for ladies' eyes.
Had bards as many realms as rhymes,
Thy charms might raise new Antonies!"
True it is that this Florence seems to have had dazzling
eyes and ringlets curled; and it is on the other hand not
true that Orpheus sang his spouse from hell-he only
232 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE
tried to do it. And it is worth noting that one of the
commonest halfpenny pamphlets sold in Florence, which
is to be found at every public stand, is a poem called
"Orpheus and Eurydice." This fact alone renders it
less singular that such classical incantations should exist.
The early Christians, notwithstanding their antipathy
to heathen symbols, retained with love that of Orpheus.
Orpheus was represented as a gentle youth, charming
wild beasts with the music of the pipe, or as surrounded
by them and sheep; hence he was, like the Good Shepherd, the favourite type of Christ.   He had also gone
down into shadowy Hades, and returned to be sacrificed
by the heathen, unto whose rites he would not conform.
Miss Roma Lister found traces of Orpheus among the
peasantry about Rome, in a pretty tradition. They say
that there is a spirit who, when he plays the zufolo or
flageolet to flocks, attracts them by his music and keeps
them quiet.
"Now there were certain shepherd families and their flocks
together in a place, and it was agreed that every night by
turns, each family should guard the flocks of all the rest. But
it was observed that one mysterious family all turned in and
went to sleep when their turn came to watch, and yet every
morning every sheep was in its place. Then it was found that
this family had a spirit whQ played the zufolo, and herded the
flock by means of his music."
The name is wanting, but Orpheus was there. The
survival of the soul of Orpheus in the zufolo or pipe, and
in the sprite, reveals the mystic legend which indicates
his existing to other times.  In this it is said that his
head after death predicted to Cyrus the Persian monarch
that he too would be killed by a woman (Consule Leonzic,
de var. histor., lib. i. cap. 17; de Orphei Tumrulo in monte
Olympo, &c., cited by Kornmann de Miraculis Mortuorum, cap. I9). The legend of Orpheus, or of a living
wife returning from another world to visit an afflicted
233 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
husband, passed to other lands, as may be seen in a book
by Georgius Sabinus, in iVotis ad Metamnorp. Ovidii,
lib. x. de desce/su Orphei ad Inferos, in which he tells
how a Bavarian lady, after being buried, was so moved
by her husband's grief that she came to life again, and
lived with him for many years, seniper tamen fuisse trisfem acpal/idem-but was always sad and pale.  However,
they got on very well together for a long time, till one
eveningpost vesperipotumn-after he had taken his evening
drink-being somewhat angry at the housemaid, he scolded
her with unseemly words. Now it was the condition of
his wife's coming back to life and remaining with him
that he was never to utter an improper expression (ut
que deinceps zpse abstineret blasphemis conviciandi verbis). And when the wife heard her husband swear, she
disappeared, soul and body, and that in such a hurry
that her dress (which was certainly of fine old stiff
brocade) was found standing up, and her shoes under it.
A similar legend, equally authentic, may be found in the
"Breitmann Ballads," a work, I believe, by an American
author. On which subject the learned Flaxius remarks
that "if all the men who swear after their evening
refreshments were to lose their wives, widowers would
become a drug in the market."
Of the connection between aura as air, and as an air
in music, I have something curious to note. Since the
foregoing was written I bought in Florence a large wooden
cup, it may be of the eleventh century or earlier, known
as a misuzra, or measure for grain, formerly called a modio,
in Latin mnodus, which word has the double meaning of
measure for objects solid or liquid, and also for music.
Therefore there are on the wooden measure four female
figures, each holding a musical instrument, and all with
their garments blowing in one direction, as in a high wind,
doubtless to signify aura, Italian aria, air or melody.
These madonnas of the four modes are rudely but very
234
I 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE
gracefully sketched by a bold master-hand. They represent, in fact, Eurydice quadrupled.
There is a spirit known in the Toscana Romagna as
Turabug.  He is the guardian of the reeds or canes, or
belongs to them like the ancient Syrinx.   There is a
curious ceremony and two invocations referring to him.
Ivy and rue are specially sacred to him. One of these
two invocations is solely in reference to playing the zufolo,
partly that the applicant may be inspired to play well,
and secondly, because the spirit is supposed to be
attracted by the sound of the instrument.   The very
ancient and beautiful idea that divinities are invoked or
attracted by music, is still found in the use of the organ
in churches.
A large portion of the foregoing on Orpheus formed,
with "Intialo," the subject of a paper by me in Italian,
which was read in the Collegio Romana at Rome at the
first meeting of the Italian Societa Vazionale per le Tradizioni Popolari Italiani, in November I893. Of which
society I may here mention that it is under the special
patronage of her Majesty Margherita the Queen of Italy,
who is herself a zealous and accomplished folklorist and
collector —" special patronage" meaning here not being a
mere figurehead, but first officer-and that the president
is Count Angelo de Gubernatis.
I believe that the establishment of this society will contribute vastly to shake in Italy the old-fashioned belief
that to be a person of the mnost respectable learning it is
quite sufficient to be thoroughly acquainted with a few
"classic" writers, be they Latin, French, or Italian, and
that it is almost a crime to read anything which does not
directly serve as a model or a copy whereby to "refine
our style." As regards which the whole world is now
entering on a new renaissance, the conflict between the
stylists and the more liberally enlightened having already
begun.
235 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
But Orpheus, with the ecclesiastical witch-doctors,
was soon turned into a diabolical sorcerer; and Leloyer
writes of him: "He was the greatest wizard who ever
lived, and his writings boil over with praises of devils and
filthy loves of gods and mortals,... who were all only
devils and witches."
That Eve brought death and sin into the world by
eating one apple, or a fig, or orange, or Chinese nectarine,
or the fruit of the banana tree, or a pear, a peach, or
everything pomological, if we are to believe all translators
of the Bible, coincides strongly with the fact that Eurydice was lost for tasting a pomegranate.  "Of the precise
graft of the espalier of Eden," says the author of the
' Ingoldsby Legends,' "Sanchoniathon,  Manetho, and
Berosus are undecided; the best informed Talmudists
have, however... pronounced it a Ribstone pippin,"
Eve being a rib. The ancients were happy in being
certain that their apple was one of Granada.
"Hoc fabula docet," writes our Flaxius, "that mysteries
abound in every myth. Now, whether Orpheus was literally
the first man who ever went to hell for a woman I know not,
but well I ween that he was not the last, as the majority of
French novelists of the present day are chiefly busy in proving,
very little, as it seems to me, either to the credit of their
country or of themselves. But there are others who read in
this tale a dark and mysterious forewarning to the effect that
ladies at la mode who fall in love with Italian musicians or
music-masters, and especially those who let themselves and
their fortunes be szfflees (especially the fortunes), should not
be astonished when the fate of Eurydice befalls them. Pass
on, beloved, to another tale!
"' Walk on, amid these mysteries strange and old,
The strangest of them all is yet to come!' "
236 
I N TI AL 0
THE SPIRIT OF THE HAUNTING SHADOW
" O ombra che dalla luce siei uscita,
Misuri il passo al Sole, all'uom la vita."
"Umbram suam me&tuere."
"Badate.
La vostra ombra vi avra fatto paura."
— ilippo Panzanti.
"There is a feeling which, perhaps, all have felt at times;... it is a
strong and shuddering impression which Coleridge has embodied in his
own dark and supernatural verse that Something not of earth is behind us
-that if we turned our gaze backward we should behold that which would
make the heart as a bolt of ice, and the eye shrivel and parch within its
socket. And so intense is the fancy, that when we turn, and all is void,
from that very void we could shape a spectre as fearful as the image our
terror had foredrawn."-BULWER, The Disowned
THE resemblance and the relation of the shadow to the
body is so strangely like that of the body to the soul,
that it is very possible that it first suggested the latter.
It is born of light, yet is in itself a portion of the mystery
of darkness; it is the facsimile of man in every outline,
but in outline alone; filled in with uniform sombre tint,
it imitates our every action as if in mockery, which of
itself suggests a goblin or sprite, while in it all there is
something of self, darkling and dream-like, yet never
leaving us. It is only evident in brightest hours, like a
skeleton at an Egyptian feast, and it has neither more
nor less resemblance to man than the latter.  Hence it
came that the strange "dwellers by the Nile" actually.,
237: 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
loved both shade and death by association, and so it
happened that
"Full many a time
They seemed half in love with easeful Death;
Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,"
while they made of the cool shadow a portion of the soul
itself, or rather one of the seven or eight entities of which
man consisted, these being-Khat, a body; Ba, the spirit;
Khoi, the intelligence; Khaibit, the shadow; Ren, the
name; Ka, eternal vitality; Ab, the heart; and Sahn, the
mask or mummy.
It is extremely interesting to consider, in connection
with this Egyptian doctrine, the fact, illustrated by every
writer on Etruscan antiquity, that these ancient dwellers
in Italy, when they represented the departed, or the dead,
as living again on a tomb, added to the name of the
deceased the word Hinthial. This I once believed meant
simply a ghost or spirit. I had no other association with
the name.
I inquired for a long time if there was any such name
as Hintial for a ghost among the people, and could not
find it. At last my chief agent succeeded in getting from
sources to me unknown, but, as in all cases, partly
from natives of the Toscana Romagna, or Volterra, and
at different times, very full information regarding this
mysterious being, which I combine as follows:
INTIALO.
"This is a spirit in human form who shows himself in any
shadow,1 and diverts himself by inspiring terror in a sorcerer,
or in any one who has committed a crime.   He causes a
fearful shadow to be ever present to the man, and addresses
him thus:
1 I suo spirits lofa presentare qualnhtque ombra, that is, in any or varied
shadow; a haunting shade, and not strictly the mere shadow of the one
who is haunted.
238 
INTIALO
Ji demone al Stregone.
"Vile-tu non potrai
Avere mai bene-avrai
Sempre la mia ombra
In tua presenza, e saro
Vendicato...1
"Tu non potrai giammai
Essere solo, che l'ombra
Mia ovunque andrai
Ti seguira: tu non potrai
Essere mai solo, tu sarai
Sempre in mio potere!
"A1 mio incantesimo noni avrai
Ne pace ne bene, al mio
Incanto tu tremerai,
Te e tutta la casa dove ti troverai,
Se sei in mezzo alla strada,
Tu tremerai Te e tutta la terra!
"A1 mio volere tu andrai
Come cane alla pagliaio,
Alla voce del suo maestro;
Tu me vorrai
Vedere, e non mi vedrai,
Mi sentirai Vedrai sola la tua ombra.
"Tu sei cattivo e scelerato,
Tu sei avelenato,
Nel cuore e nell anima,
E piu bene non avrai,
Sei avelenato nel cuore,
E nell anima, vai,
Tu siei maladetto;
E il spirito sempre ti seguira
Ovunque tu vada!"
1 That which here follows of the invocation was obtained subsequently
by my agent, I think, from another source. What precedes is evidently
only a fragment.
239 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
TRANSLATION.
Yhe Demion to tSe Sorcerer.
"Wretch! long lost in wickedness,
Thou shalt ne'er have happiness;
Though to distant lands thou'lt flee,
Still my shadow thou shalt see,
And I will revenged be.
"Solitude thou ne'er shalt know,
Where thou goest my shade shall go,
And wherever thou mayst fly
Still the shadow will be by Ne'er alone at any hour,
And for ever in my power.
"By my spell thou ne'er shalt know
Peace or joy on earth below,
At my charm a deadly fear
Shall seize on all men standing near;
Thou shalt tremble in thy home,
Or if thou abroad shouldst roam,
Shivering with fear thou'lt be,
And the earth shall shake with thee.
At my bidding thou must stir,
And hasten as the vilest cur
Must hasten when his master calls,
And leave his straw amid the stalls;
And if thou wouldst gaze on me,
Still my form thou shalt not see;
Thou shalt feel when I am here,
Feel me in thy deadly fear,
Yet only see thy shadow near.
Thou art vile and wicked too,
Thou art poisoned through and through;
In thy heart and in thy soul,
Cursedness is in the whole,
240 
INTIALO
In thy soul and in thy heart,
Poison steeped in every part.
Cursed ever! now, depart!
Yet wherever thou shalt flee
I will ever follow thee!
"Then this man will be in terror, and he will ever see the
shadow before him by day and by night, and thus he will have
no peace, and yet this is all the time the spirit of Intialo.
"Now, when he is thus tormented for some past misdeed,
and he feels himself haunted, as it were, by the shadow of the
one whom he has wronged, when he finds at last that he is
not pursued, indeed, by it, but by Intialo, then he shall repeat
the Exorcism:
Scongiurazione di Intialo.
"Intialo! Intialo! che quando
Una persona ai preso,
0 per seguitare le ingombri
Le ingombri sempre la cammina.
"Intialo! Intialo! se libero
I1 passo mi lascerai meglio
Per te sara, se non mi verrai
Lasciare ti faccio sapere
Tu sarai sempre in mio potere.
"Intialo! Intialo! ti faccio sapere,
Se metto in opera
La mia scongiurazione,
Non ti lasciero piu bene avere,
E ogni mi a chiamata
Ti faro correre
Come chane al pagliaio,
"Intialo! Intialo!
Ti faccio sapere
Che tu pensi a fare
I1 tuo dovere,
Se ancora mi viene a tormentare
Muso di porco tu possa diventare.
Q
241 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"Intialo! Intialo!
Tu siei furbo e maligno,
Ma io me ne infischio,
Perche io sono di te,
Molto piu maligno.
"Intialo! Intialo! ti prego
Di non mi piut tormentare
Se vuoi aver bene,
Se no ti acquisterai
Delle pene- e questo sara
I1 tuo guadagno.
Intialo! Intialo!
Con tutta la tua furberia,
Non sai ancora
Che io son protetto
Da una bella stregha
Che mi adora.
"Intialo! Intialo!
Se pil ne vuoi sapere
Vieni sta sera,
Vieni a mezza notte,
Viene di dove sei,
Te lo faro vedere,
Vieno sotto'quel noce
E tu lo vedrai.
"Intialo! Intialo!
La mezza notte in punto,
Noi l'abbiamo,
E ti vedo (vedro) appogiato
A1 noce che credi di vedere,
Vedere l'ombra mia,
E vedi l'ombra tua stessa!
"Intialo! Intialo!
Dentro al mio seno
Quattro cose tengo,
Che mi fanno vedere,
E non son veduto,
Ellera, pane,
Sale e ruta,
E la mia buona fortuna.
242 
INTIALO
"Intialo! Intialo!
Non ti voglio dire,
Perche io voglio
Andare a dormire;
Ma solo ti ho fatto
Ti ho fatto vedere
Che non son' in poter tuo,
Ma tu siei in mio potere."
2he Exorcism of fntialo.
"Intialo! it is known
When thou followest any one,
Be the victim whom he may,
Thou art ever in his way.
Intialo-hear! if free
Thou wilt leave the road to me,
Better for thee shall it be;
If thou wilt not, from this hour
I will hold thee in my power.
"Intialo! thou shalt learn
That I'm wizard in my turn;
All the power of sorcery
So about thee I will throw All around, above, below That thou shalt accursed be,
Held in fear and agony,
And as a dog shalt follow me.
"Intialo! thou shalt know
What thou art ere thou canst go;
If thou comest here again
To torment or give me pain,
As thou'dst make a dog of me,
I will make a swine of thee.
"Intialo! sorry cheat,
Filled with hate from head to feet,
Be malignant if you will,
I am more malignant still.
243 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"Intialo! for thy sake
I pray thee no more trouble take
To torment me, for thy gain
Will only be thy greater pain,
For so cursed thou shalt be
That I needs must pity thee.
"Intialo! now, confess
That with all thy craftiness
Thou didst not know what now I tell,
That I am protected well
By a lovely witch, and she
Is mightier far, 0 fiend! than thee.
' Intialo! ere we go,
If thou more of me wouldst know,
Come at midnight-I shall be
'Neath the witches' walnut tree,
And what I shall make thee see
I trow will be enough for thee.
Intialo! in that hour
Thou shalt truly feel my power,
And when thou at last shalt ween
That on the witches' tree I lean,
Then to thee it shall be known
That my shadow is thine own.
"Intialo! everywhere
With me magic charms I bear,
Ivy, bread and salt and rue,
And with them my fortune too.
"Intialo! hence away,
Unto thee no more I'll say;
Now I fain would go to sleep,
See that thou this warning keep.
I am not in power of thine,
But thou truly art in mine."
I had the belief, derived from several writers, that
Hinthiial in Etruscan meant simply a ghost or revenantthe apparition of some one dead. But on mentioning my
244 
INTIALO
discovery of this legend to Professor Milani, the Director
of the Archaeological Museum in Florence, and the first
of Etruscan scholars, he astonished me by declaring that
he believed the word signified a shadow, and that its real
meaning in its full significance had apparently been marvellously preserved in this witch-tradition. Too little is
known as yet of the old Etruscan language to decide with
certainty as to anything in it, but should this opinion of
Professor Milani be sustained, it will appear that at least
one word of the mysterious tongue has existed till now in
popular tradition.
There will be very few of my readers who will not be
struck, as I was, with the remarkable resemblance of the
terrible curse uttered by Intialo to the invocation in Byron's
tragedy of "Manfred."  It is like it in form, spirit, and,
in many places, even in the very words. That there was,
however, no knowledge of the English poem by the Italian
witch-poet, and therefore no imitation, is plain from intrinsic evidence. As the question is interesting, I will
here give the Incantation from "Manfred ":
INCANTATION.
"When the moon is on the wave,
And the glow-worm in the grass,
And the meteor on the grave,
And the wisp on the morass;
When the falling stars are shooting,
And the answered owls are hooting,
And the silent leaves are still
In the shadow of the hill,
Shall my soul be upon thine
With a power and with a sign.
"Though thy slumber may be deep,
Yet thy spirit shall not sleep;
There are shades which shall not vanish,
There are thoughts thou canst not banish;
245 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
By a power to thee unknown
Thou canst never be alone;
Thou art wrapt as with a shroud,
Thou art gathered in a cloud,
And for ever shalt thou dwell
In the spirit of this spell.
Though thou see'st me not pass by,
Thou shalt feel me with thine eye,
As a thing that, though unseen,
Must be near thee, and hath been;
And when in that secret dread
Thou hast turned around thy head,
Thou shalt marvel I am not
As thy shadow on the spot,
And the power which thou dost feel
Shall be what thou must conceal.
And a magic voice and verse
Hath baptized thee with a curse,
And a spirit of the air
Hath begirt thee with a snare;
In the wind there is a voice
Shall forbid thee to rejoice;
And to thee shall night deny
All the quiet of her sky;
And the day shall have a sun
Which shall make thee wish it done.
From thy false tears I did distil
An essence which hath strength to kill;
From thy own heart I then did wring
The black blood in its blackest spring;
From thy own smile I snatched the snake,
For there it coiled as in a brake;
From thy own lip I drew the charm
Which gave all these their chiefest harm;
In proving every poison known,
I found the strongest was thine own.
"By thy cold breast and serpent smile,
By thy unfathomed depths of guile,
By that most seeming virtuous eye,
By thy shut soul's hypocrisy,
246 
INTIALO
By the perfection of thine art,
Which passed for human thine own heart;
By thy delight in others' pain,
And by thy brotherhood of Cain,
I call upon thee, and compel
Thyself to be thy proper hell!
"And on thy head I pour the vial
Which doth devote thee to this trial;
Not to slumber, nor to die,
Shall be in thy destiny,
Though thy death shall still seem near
To thy wish, but as a fear;
Lo! the spell now works around thee,
And the clankless chain hath bound thee:
O'er thy heart and brain together
Hath the word been passed-now wither!"
The Italian poem forms, in its first and second parts, a
drama as complete as that of" Manfred," and, as I hope to
render clear, one more consistent to the leading idea, or,
as critics were wont to say, "more coherent in the unities."
This idea in the one, as in the other, is that of a powerful
sorcerer assailed by a fiend in the form of remorse, and
that with the most aggravating and insulting terms of
contempt.  In "Manfred" the persecutor tells his victim
that he shall be his own hell, for that of all poisons his
own evil heart is the worst. The Italian, more direct and
less metaphysical still, alludes, in the accusation by the
spirit, to no other punishment save that of conscience,
and declares the magician to be poisoned through and
through in himself:
" Tu sei cattivo e scelerato,
Tu sei avvelenato
Nel cuore e nell anima,"
and bids him go forth to be for ever pursued by the
avenger.
Byron's poem is entirely based on sorcery, and is intended to set forth the tremendous mental struggles of a
247 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
mind which has risen above mankind with supernatural
power, which assails him with remorse.   In the first
place he simply goes to sleep; in the grand finale he
resists, like Don Juan, or, as the saying is, " dies game " "only this, and nothing more "-leaving all idea of an end,
object, moral, or system, entirely in the dark.  "Manfred " is merely dramatic for the sake of stage effect, and
only excellent in impressing us with the artistic skill of
the author. Its key is art for the sake of art, and effect
on anybody, no matter who. Within this limit it is most
admirable.
In both the Italian and English poems the one persecuted makes his strong point of departure from the discovery or knowledge that the persecuted is not one whom
he has injured, but simply a mocking and tormenting
sprite. Thus the former text declares that when he finds
he is pursued simply by Intialo, the shadow, which we
may here translate "his own imagination," he rallies with
a tremendous counter-curse in which far more is meant
than meets the eye. The grand mission of the inagus
or sorcerer in all the occult lore of all antiquity, whether
he appear as Buddha or any other man of men, is to conquer all enemies by tremendous power won by penance
or by iron will. A favourite means of tormenting the
enemy or fiend is to awaken the conscience of the magician,
or, what is the same thing, to tempt him to sin, as Satan
did Christ. But even conscience loses its power when we
feel that the foe is exaggerating our sins, and only urging
them for torment's sake, and especially when these sins
are of a kind which from a certain standpoint or code, are
not sins at all.
And here we are brought to a subject so strange and
witch-like that it is difficult to discuss or make clear.
It is evident enough in "Manfred" that the great crime
was the hero's forbidden love for his sister Astarte. This
it is which crushes him. But it does not appear from the
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INTIALO
Italian (save to those deeply learned in the darker secrets
of sorcery) why or how it is that the one persecuted so
suddenly revives and defies the spirit, turning, as it were,
his own power against him.   In explaining this, I do
not in the least conjecture, guess, or infer anything; I
give the explanation as it was understood by the narrator,
and as confirmed by other legends and traditions. It is
this:
Michelet, in La Sorcidre, which amid much lunacy or
folly contains many truths and ingenious perceptions, has
explained that the witchcraft of the Middle Ages was a
kind of mad despairing revolt against the wrongs of
society, of feudalism, and the Church. It was in very
truth the precursor of Protestantism. Under the name
of religion conscience had been abused, and artificial sins,
dooming to hell, been created out of every trifle, and out
of almost every form of natural instincts. The reaction
from this (which was a kind of nihilism or anarchy), was
to declare the antithetic excess of free will. One of the
forms of this revolt was the belief that the greatest sorcerers were born (ex filio et matre) from the nearest relations, and that to dare and violate all such ties was to
conquer by daring will the greatest power. It was the
strongest defiance of the morality taught by the Church,
therefore one of the highest qualifications for an ironwilled magician. It is specially pointed out in the legend
of Diana that she began by such a sin, and so came to be
queen of the witches; and the same idea of entire emancipation or illumination, or freedom from all ties, is the first
step to the absolute free will which constitutes the very
basis of all magic. This, which is repugnant to humanity,
was actually exalted by the Persian Magi to a duty or
religious principle, and it was the same in Egypt as regarded "first families." The sorcerer pursued by Intialo
bases all his power to resist on the mere fact that he is
beloved by a beautiful witch. This is the Astarte of the
249 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
Italian drama, or a sister-the terrible tie which shows
that a man is above conscience, and free from all fear of
the powers that be, whether of earth or air. By it his
triumph is complete. He surmounts the accusation of
being without morals by utterly denying their existence
from a higher or illuminated point of view. The magus
claims to rank with the gods, and if a divinity creates
mankind as his children, and then has a child by a
woman, he is in the same state as the sorcerer, according
to wizards.
If any reproach attaches to the employment of such an
element in poetry, then Byron and Shelley are far more
to blame than the Italian witch-poet, who veiled his
allusion with much greater care than they did, and who
had the vast excuse of sincere belief, while their highest
aim was mere art.   The wizard-poet has his heart in
this faith, as in a religion, and he is one with his hero.
Manfred is at best only a broken-down magician who
presents a few boldly dramatic daring traits-the Italian
sorcerer, who is far more defiant and fearless, conquers. "I am more malignant than thou art," is a terrible utterance; so is the tone of affected pity for the
baffled tormentor, in which we detect a shade of sarcasm
based on overwhelming triumph. This feeling, be it observed, progresses, crescendo forte, gradually and very
artistically, from the first verse to the last.  Intialo has
threatened to make the victim a sorry cur who comes at
a call; the sorcerer replies that he will make "a swine's
snout" of Intialo. Finally, he dares the fiend to meet
him at midnight at the great Witches' Sabbat, at the dread
walnut-tree of Benevento.   Here the threats reach an
ingenious and terrible climax, though the form in which
they are expressed is only quite clear to the initiated. The
sorcerer says, " When thou thinkest that thou see'st my
shadow thou wilt behold thine own," or in other words,
"You who have sought to torment me by a shadow shall
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INTIALO
yourself be mocked by finding that you are only mine."
This climax of daring the fiend to meet him at Benevento,
at the tremendous and terrible rendezvous of all the devils,
witches, and sorcerers, and then and there trying conclusions with him in delusion and magic, or a strife of
shadows, while leaning against the awful tree itself, which
is the central point of the Italian Domdaniel, is magnificently imagined.
In Goethe's "Faust," as in Byron's " Manfred," the hero
is a magician, but he is not in either true to the name or
character. The great magus of early ages, even like the
black Voodoo of America, had it clearly before him all the
time that his mission or business, above all things, was to
develop an indomitable will superior to that of men or
spirits. Every point is gained by force, or by will and
penance. In real sorcery there is no such thing as a pact
with a devil, and becoming his slave after a time. This is
a purely later-Roman invention, a result of the adoption
of the mixture of Jewish monotheism and Persian dualism,
which formed the Catholic Church.  In Goethe's "Faust"
we have the greatest weakness, and an extreme confusion
of character. The conclusion of the tale is contradictory
or absurd, and the difficulty is solved with the aid of a
Deus ex machina. The hero is a sorcerer, and there is
not a trace of true sorcery or niagianism or tremendous
will and work in the whole drama.  Beautiful things are
said and done, but, take it for all in all, it is a grand promenade which leads to nothing.1
In the Italian legend, brief and rude as it is, there
appears a tremendous power worked out with great consistency. The demon or spirit, intent on causing remorse
or despair (ad affrelare it rimorso), threatens the sorcerer
with terrible maledictions. And these words, if we regard
1 The concluding portion of this chapter is taken from the Italian original paper read by rne at the first meeting of the Italian Folklore Society in
the Collegio Romano, Rome, November 20, I894.
251 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
their real meaning and spirit, have never been surpassed
in any poem.
And we should note here that the Italian sorcerer who
subdues the devil by simple will and pluck is no Manfred
or Faust drawn from the religious spirit of the Middle
Ages. He belongs to the Etruscan age, or to that of the
ancient Magi; he meets malediction with malediction, spell
with spell, curse with curse, injury with injury, sarcasm
and jeer with the same; he insults the devil, calling him
his slave:
" Perche io sono di te-molto piu maligno."
Until in the end they change parts, and the demon
becomes the one tormented. Therefore there is in this
legend, with all its rudeness, a conception which is so
grand, as regards setting forth the possible power of man,
and the eritis sicut deus of modern science, that it is
in unity and fulness far beyond any variant of the same
subject.
That this is of great antiquity is clear, for out of this
enchanted forest of Italian witchcraft and mystical sorcery
there never yet came anything, great or small, which was
not at least of the bronze, if not of the neolithic age.
Truly, when the chief character in a tradition of the
old Etruscan land bears an Etruscan name, or that of a
shadow called a shadow, we may well conclude that it is
not of yesterday. So all things rise and bloom and pass
away here on this earth to winter and decay, and are as
phantoms which
"Come like shadows, so depart."
For a last word, "Manfred" and "Faust" are only works
of art, intended to "interest "or amuse or charm the reader,
and as such they are great. They are simply dramas or
show-pieces, which also give a high idea of the artistic
skill of their writers.  "Intialo" sets forth the great idea
of the true sorcerer, in which they both fail, and carries
252 
INTIALO
it out logically to a tremendous triumph. It is the very
quintessence of all heresies, and of the first great heresy,
eritis sicut deus.
There will not be wanting one or two critics of the low
kind who take their hints from the disavowals of the
author to declare that his book is just what it is not, who
will write that I think I have discovered a better poet than
Keats in Marietta Pery, and a far greater than Goethe or
Byron in the unknown author of the invocation to " Intialo."
But all that I truly mean is that the former is nearer to
old tradition; and more succinct than the English bard"only this and nothing more "-while in " Intialo "we have
given, as no one ever expressed it, the true ideal of the
magician who, overcoming all qualms of conscience,
whether innate or suggested, and trampling under foot
all moral human conventions, rises to will, and victory
over all enemies, especially the demons of the threshold.
As a poem, I no more claim special merit for it than I
would for Marietta's; 1 indeed, to the very considerable
number of "highly cultivated" people who only perceive
poetry in form and style, and cannot find it in the grandest
conceptions unless they are elegantly expressed, what I
have given in this connection will not appear as poetry
at all.
1 These references to Marietta Pery are in regard to a certain Italian
poetess, of whose work I originally intended to give specimens in this
book, but which were omitted as want of space did not permit their insertion. I hope to include them in another volume of legends. —C. G.
LELAND.
253 
CAIN AND HIS WORSHIPPERS
THE SPELL OF THE MIRROR-THE INVOCATION TO
CAIN-THE WITCH-HISTORY OF CAIN AND ABEL
"Rusticus in Luna
Quem sarcina deprimit una,
Monstrat per spinas
Nulli prodesse rapinas."
-ALEXANDER NECKHAM, A.D. I I57.
THIS is, for reasons which I will explain anon, one of the
most curious traditions which have been preserved by the
Tuscan peasantry. I had made inquiry whether any conjuring by the aid of a mirror existed-" only this and
nothing more "-when, some time after, I received the
following:
LA SCONGIURAZIONE DELLO SPECCHIO.
When one wishes to enchant a lover.
"Go at midnight when there is a fine full moon, and take a
small mirror, which must be kept in a box of a fine red colour,
and at each of the four corners of the box put a candle with a
pin, or with a pin in its point, and observe that two of the pins
must have red heads, and two black, and form a cross, and note
that every candle must have two tassels hanging from it, one
red and one black.
"And within the box first of all put a good layer of coarse
salt, and form on the salt a ring or wreath of incense, and in
the middle of this a cross of cummin, and above all put the
small mirror. Then take the photograph of your lover, but
not the real photograph but the negative, because it must be
on a plate of glass (lastra di vetro). Then take some hairs of
254 
CAIN AND HIS WORSHIPPERS
the lover and join them to the photograph (sono uniti dalla
parte del quore), and then take a fine sprig of rue.
"And with all this nicely arranged in the box, take a boat
and sail out to sea; and if a woman works the spell she must
take three men with her only, and if a man three women and
no other person. And they must go forth at an instant when
the moon shines brightly (rispilende bene) on the mirror. Then
hold the left hand over the mirror, and hold up the rue with
the right.  Then repeat the following:
INCANTESIMO.
"Luna! Luna! Luna!
Tu che siei tanto bella!
E nel tuo cerchio rachiude
Un si pessimo sogetto
Rachiude Chaino che per gelosia
Uccise il proprio fratello.
"Ed io che per la gelosia
Del mio amante non ho potuto
Ne bere e ne mangiare,
Ne colle amiche
Non posso conversare,
Io l'amo tanto, tanto,
E non sono corrisposta,
Quanto lo vorrei e per la sua
La sua fredezza io ne sono
Tanto gelosa non so qual' malarono
Quale malarono io commetterei,
Vado a letto non passo riposare,
Mi viene visioni che
II mio amante mi debba ingannare.
"Luna, Luna, mia bella Luna!
Che tanto bella siei e ben' risplende,
Ti prego volere pregare per me
Chaino che per gelosia
1 Such incantations are intoned or chanted in a very peculiar style, so
that those who can only hear the sound know that it is a magic spell.
Therefore they must be expressed very accurately to the letter. It may be
observed that there is a contradiction in the original MS., which here speaks
of three companions, and subsequently of two. I believe the latter to be
correct.
255 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
Uccise il proprio fratello,
Ed io vorrei punire il mio amante,
Ma non farlo morire
Ma pero farlo soffrire,
Che non abbia mai bene
Ne giorno, ne notte,
Non possa ne bene ne mangiare.
E la notte non possa riposare,
E Chaino col suo fascio,
Suo fascio, di pruini,
I1 mio amante dal su'letto
Puo le fare, alzare
E alla casa mia
Farlo presto ritornare!
"Chaino! Chaino! Chaino!
Per tre volte io ti chiamo.
Ti chiamo ad alta voce,
In un punto dove si trova,
Soltanto che cielo e aqua,
E le due mie compagne.
"Chaino! per la gelosia
Che provarti tu per il tuo fratello!
Provo io per il mio amante,
E vorrei a me farlo ritornare,
Per non allontanarsi mai pih.
Tu che dal alto del cielo
Tutto vedi-questa scatola
E bene preparata e tutte e quattro
Le candele o accese, tu puoi guardare,
Puoi guardare questo specchio,
E se tre parole pronunzierai
Tutti i pruini che ai
Nell' fascio delle legne che adosso,
Sempre porti potrai,
Potrai farli passare
Nel corpo, e nel cuore
Del mio amante,
Che non possa dormire e sia
Costretto a vestirsi,
E venire a casa mia,
Per non andarsene mai piu.
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CAIN AND HIS WORSHIPPERS
"Con questo ramo di ruta
Lo bagno nel mare,
E bagno le mie due compagne
Che pronunzierrano queste parole
Tale [secondo il nome] colla ai uta
Di Chaino vai dalla tua amante
Per non lasciarla mai piti.
"Se questa grazia mi fai
Fai alzare un forte vento,
E poi spengere le candele.
Chaino! Chaino! Chaino!"
THE INVOCATION.
"Moon! 0 moon! 0 moon!
Thou who art always fair,
Yet holdest in thy ring
One of such evil name,
Because thou holdest Cain;
Cain who from jealousy
His own born brother slew.
I too through jealousy
Of one whom I still love
Can neither drink nor eat,
Nor even talk with friends,
I love so much-so muchYet am not loved again
As I would fain be loved.
Through his indifference I
So jealous have become,
I do not know what sin
I would not now commit;
I cannot sleep at night
For dreams in which I see
Him faithless unto me.
"Moon, moon, O beauteous moon!
As thou art fair and bright,
I pray thee, pray for me;
Cain who from jealousy
R
257 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
Slew his own brother born,
As I would punish well
The one whom I yet love,
Yet would not cause his death,
So may he suffer thus:
May suffering be his lot
By day as in the night,
May he not eat or drink,
Nor may he sleep at night!
"May Cain who bears the bunch
Upon his back, of thorns,
Stand by my lover's bed,
And make him rise from sleep
And hasten to my home.
"0 Cain! 0 Cain! 0 Cain!
Three times I call to thee,
Call with my loudest voice,
Just as I find myself
Between the sea and sky,
And my two friends with me.
"Cain, by the jealousy
Which once thy brother caused,
And which I now endure,
For him whom still I love,
Make love return to me
And never leave me more.
Thou who from heaven on high
Seest all things, here behold
This casket well prepared!
The mystic tapers four
All lighted, look on them!
Then in this mirror look.
Then if thou wilt but speak
Three words-then all the thorns
Which on thy back thou bear'st,
All in a bundle bound,
Will pass into the life,
The body and the heart
Of him whom yet I love,
So that he sleep no more,
258 
CAIN AND HIS WORSHIPPERS
And be compelled to rise,
Compelled to clothe himself,
And hasten to my home,
Never to leave me more.
"Now, with this branch of rue,
Which I dip in the sea,
I sprinkle both my friends,
That they may speak these words:
That, by the aid
Of Cain shalt seek thy love,
And never leave her more.
"If thou wilt grant me this,
Cause a high wind to blow,
Extinguishing the lights.
O Cain! O Cain! O Cain!"
Before proceeding further, I would explain that the
use of a photograph, which must be a negative on glass,
instead of being, as was suggested to me, a modern interpolation, is, strangely enough, a proof of the antiquity of
the rite. In the old time, a picture or portrait painted in
transparent colour on glass was held up to the moon that
its rays might pass through it and enchant the subject.
And among the Romans, when one had a portrait of any
one cut on diaphanous stone, it was used in the same
way. I had in my possession once such a portrait-gem,2
and a fine needle-hole had been bored through the right
eye so as to blind the original of the likeness. And I had
a friend who lived in Russia, who discovered that a person
who hated him had obtained his photograph, and pricked
holes with a very fine needle in the eyes to blind him.
The negative of a photograph on glass would very naturally occur as a substitute for a picture. But what is
most important is that this mention of the translucent
negative proves fully that the whole ceremony, in its
1 Here the name of the lover is pronounced by the friends.
2 Now in possession of Mrs. January of St. Louis, Missouri.
259 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
minutest detail, has actually been preserved to this day,
and that the incantation, long as it is, exists as I have
given it, since every line in it corresponds to the rite.
And as I know that it was gathered by a witch and
fortune-teller among others, and carefully compared and
collated, I am sure that it is authentic and traditional.
Fifty pages are devoted by the Rev. T. Harley in his
" Moon Lore " to the subject of the Man in the Moon, and
since the book appeared in I885 there have been great
additions to the subject. This human being is declared
by myths found in India, and especially among the
Oriental gypsies, in Ireland, Borneo, Greenland, and
South America, to be a man who is punished by imprisonment above for incest with his sister the sun. As
he wanders for ever over the heavens, just as gypsies
wander on earth, they claim him for their ancestor, and
declare that Zin-gan (or gypsy) is derived from two words
meaning sun and moon. Kam, the sun, has been varied
to kan, and in gypsy the moon is called chone, which is
also t-chen, chin, or sin. But the point lies in this, that
Cain was condemned to be a "a fugitive and a vagabond
in the earth," which gives much apparent strength to the
idea that Cain, whether Shemitic or Aryan, was, for a
great crime, or as chief of sinners, imprisoned in the moon.
This sufferer, in different legends, has been represented
as a Sabbath-breaker, as Judas Iscariot, as Isaac, and
many more transgressors, almost always with a bunch or
bush of thorns, for which there has been literally no real
explanation whatever. This I will now investigate, and,
1 think, clearly explain.
Dante in two places speaks of the Man in the Moon
as Cain, and as if it were a very popular legend (Inferno, xx. 123):
" Ma vienne omai che gia tiene'1 confine
D'ambedue gli emisperi, e tocca l'onda
Sotto Sibilia, Caino e le spine
E gia iernotte fu la Luna tonda."
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CAIN AND HIS WORSHIPPERS
"But now he comes who doth the borders hold
Of the two hemispheres, and drive the waves
Under the sibyl, Cain, with many thorns.
And yesternight the moon was round and full;
Take care that it may never do thee harm
At any time when in the gloomy wood."
This twentieth canto is devoted to the sorcerers in
hell, and ends with allusion to the full moon, the sibyl,
and Cain, as allied to witchcraft, prediction, and sin.
When the mnioon is full it is also "high tides" with the
witches, now as of yore:
"Full moon, high sea,
Great man shalt thou be:
Red dawning, cloudy sky,
Bloody death shalt thou die."
Dante again mentions Cain in the moon, in the Paradiso,
ii. 50:
"Ma ditemi, che con li segni lui
Dio questo corpo, che laggiuso in terra
Fan di CaiO  favoleggiare altrui?"
"But tell me now what are the gloomy marks
Upon this body, which down there on earth
Make people tell so many tales of Cain?"
To which Beatrice replies by a mysterious physical
explanation of the phenomenon, advising him to take
three mirrors and observe how the moon is reflected
from one to the other, and that in this manner theformal
principio, or first creative power, passes from light to
darkness. The reader will here remember that with the
witches the mirror is specially devoted to conjuring Cain.
It is worth noting that a spechietto, or small lookingglass, was specially (Barretti) "a little mirror placed at
the bottom of a jewel casket."
I would now note that the thorns which Cain carries
signify, not only in modern Italian, but in old Roman
sorcery, the sting of hatred and of jealousy. It is a most
apparent and natural simile, and is found from the crown
of thorns on Christ to the Voodoo sorcery in Western
26i 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
America. Miss Mary Owen knew a black girl in Missouri who, as a proof of being Christianised, threw away
the thorn which she kept as a fetish to injure an enemy.
But in early times the thorn was universally known as
symbolical of sin, just as Cain was regarded as the first
real sinner. Therefore the two were united. Menzel tells
us in his Christliche Symbolik (Part I. p. 206) that it is a
legend that "there were no thorns before the Fall; they
first grew with sin, therefore thorns are a symbol of the
sorrow or pain which came from sin." Of all of which
there is a mass of old German myths and legends, which I
spare the reader, for I have endeavoured in this comment to
avoid useless myth-mongering in order to clearly set forth
the connection between Cain, his thorns, and the moon.
That the conjuring the moon with a mirror is very
ancient indeed appears from the legend drawn from
classic sources, which is thus set forth in "A Pleasant
Comedie called Summer's Last Will and Testament.
Written by Thomas Nash.  London, I600 ":
In laying thus the l)lame upon the Moone
Thou imitat'st sul)till Pythagoras,
Who what he would the People should beleeve,
The same he wrote with blood upon a Glasse,
And turned it opposite'gainst the New Moone,
Whose Beames, reflecting on it with full force,
Shew'd all those lines to them that stood behinde,
Most pleynly writ in circle of the Moone,
And then he said:' Not I, but the newe Moone
Fair Cynthia persuades you this and that.'"
In the "Clouds" of Aristophanes the same idea is made
into a jest, in which Strepsiades thus addresses Socrates:
" Strepsiades. If I were to buy a Thessalian witch, and then draw down
the moon by night, and then shut her up in a round helmet-case like a
mirror, and then keep watching her —
Socrates. What good would that do you, then?
Streisiades. What! If the moon were not to rise any more anywhere, I
should not pay the interest.
Socrates. Because what?
Strepsiades. Because the money is lent on interest." 
1 "Moon Lore," p. 152.
262 
CAIN AND HIS WORSHIPPERS
These instances could be multiplied. What I have
given are enough to show the antiquity of the conjuration;
and I also venture to declare that any Italian scholar who
is familiar with these formulas of sorcery will admit that,
making all due allowance for transmission among peasants,
the language, or words, or turns of expression in this
incantation denote great antiquity.
The next paper or tradition on the subject of Cain,
which, as every phrase in it indicates, was taken down
from an old dame who at first slowly recalled forgotten
sentences, will be to many more interesting, and to all
much more amusing than the first. It once happened
that an old gypsy in England began to tell me the story
of the ghostly baker of Stonehenge and the seven
loaves, but, suddenly pausing, he said: "What's the use
of telling that to you who have read it all in the Bible?"
There is, however, this trifling difference, that I am not
sure that my Italian witch friends knew that Cain and
Abel are in the Bible at all. The Red Indian doctor,
whose knowledge of the Old Testament was limited to its
being good to cure neuralgia, was far beyond the contadini as regards familiarity with "the efficacy of the
Scripture."
This is the witch-tale as written word by word:
ABELE E CHAINO.
"They were two brothers. Abel greatly loved Cain, but
Cain did not love so much the brother Abel.
"Cain had no great will to work.
"Abel, however, on the contrary, was greatly disposed (si
ingegnava) to labour, because he had found it profitable. He
was industrious in all, and at last became a grazier (mzercante
di nianzi).
"And Cain also, being moved by jealousy (per astiaz), wished
to become a grazier, but the wheel did not turn for him as it
did for Abel.
263
I' 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
"And Cain also was a good man, and set himself con tentedly to work, believing that he could become as rich as
his brother, but he did not succeed in this, for which reason
he became so envious of Abel that it resulted in tremendous
hate, and he swore to be revenged.
"Cain often visited his brother, and once said to him,
'Abel, thou art rich and I am poor; give me the half of thy
wealth, since thou wishest me so well!'
"Then Abel replied:'If I give thee a sum which thou thyself couldst gain by industry, thou shouldst still labour as I do,
and I will give thee nothing, since, if thou wilt work as I do,
thou wilt become as rich.'
"One day there were together Cain, Abel, and a merchant,
whose name I forget. And one told that he had seen in a
dream seven fat oxen and seven lean. And the merchant, who
was an astrologer or wizard, explained that the seven fat oxen
meant seven years of abundance, and the seven lean as many
years of famine.
"And so it came to pass as he foretold-seven years of
plenty and seven of famine.
"And Cain, hearing this, thought:'During the seven years
of plenty Abel will lay by a great store, and then I will slay
him, and possess myself of all his goods, and thus I will take
care of myself, and my brother will be dead.'
"Now, Cain greatly loved God; he was good towards God,
more so than Abel, because Abel, having become rich, never
spoke more unto the Lord; and Abel would gladly have
become a wizard himself.
"Then Cain began to think how he could slay Abel and
become a merchant in his place, and so went forth to cut
wood.
"One day he called his brother Abel, and said to him:
'Thou art so rich, while I am poor, and all my work avails
me little.' And with that he gave Abel a blow with a knife,
and dressed himself in his garments, and took a bundle of
thorns on his back, and thus clad he took Abel's place as
merchant, believing that no one would recognise him as
Cain.
"And while thus buying and selling he met the merchantwizard who had foretold the seven years of famine and of
abundance. And he said,'Oh, good day, Abel,' to make Cain
believe that he was not discovered. But the oxen who were
present all began to chant in chorus:
264 
CAIN AND HIS WORSHIPPERS
"' Non chiamate questo, Abele!
E Chaino, non lo vedete,
Per la gola della monete
I1 fratello ammazato,
E dei suoi panni e vestito.
O Chaino or siei chiamato
Alla presenza del gran Dio,
Che a morte ti'a condannato
Che di richezza eri assetato.'
"' Do not call that person Abel;
It is Cain, do you not see it?
Cain who, for the greed of money,
Treacherously slew his brother,
And then clad him in his garments.
Now, 0 Cain I thou wilt be summoned
Speedily unto the presence
Of the Lord, who has condemned thee
Unto death for thy great avarice.'
"Cain came before God.
"' 0O gran Dio di clemenza
Voi che siete grande, buono,
Velo chiedo a voi perdone,
Per il bene vi ho valuto,
Un instante vi ho dimenticato
Ma ne sono molto pentito,
Di aver ammazato
Abele il fratello mio.'
O great God of endless mercy,
Thou who art so good and mighty,
Grant, I pray thee, grant me pardon
For the good I did while living!
Truly once, but for an instant,
I forgot myself, but deeply
I since then have long repented
That I slew my brother Abel.'
"But God replied: 1
"A punishment thou shalt have because thou didst slay
thy brother from a desire to become rich.   Likewise thou
didst meddle with witchcraft and sorceries, as did thy brother.
And Abel made much money and was very rich, because he
did not love God, but sorcerers. Albeit, ever good he never
1 I have no doubt that originally all the spoken parts of this narrative
were sung.
265
I 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
did evil things, and many good, wherefore God pardoned him.
But thou shalt not be pardoned because thou didst imbrue thy
hands in human blood, and, what is worse, in thy own brother's
blood.
"The punishment which I inflict is this:
"The thorns  which thou didst put upon thy brother are
now for thee.
"Thou shalt be imprisoned in the moon, and from that
place shalt behold the good and the evil of all mankind.
"And the bundle of thorns shall never leave thee, and every
time when any one shall conjure thee, the thorns shall sting
thee cruelly; they shall draw thy blood.
"And thus shalt thou be compelled to do that which shall
be required of thee by the sorcerers or by conjuring, and if they
ask of thee that which thou wilt not give, then the thorns shall
goad thee until the sorceries shall cease."
This is clearly enough no common popular nursery
tale, such as make up collections of Tuscan tales or popular legends, gathered from pious or picturesque peasants.
Through it all runs a deep current of dark heresy, the
deliberate contravention of accepted Scripture, and chiefly
the spell of sorcery and deadly witchcraft. It is a perfect and curious specimen of a kind of forbidden literature
which was common during the Middle Ages, and which
is now extremely rare. This literature or lore was the
predecessor of Protestantism, and was the rock on which
it was based.
There have always been in the world since time began
certain good people whose taste or fate it was to be
invariably on the wrong side, or in the opposition; like
the Irishman just landed from a ship in America, who,
being asked how he would vote, replied, "Against the
Government, of course, whatever it is," they are always
at war with the powers that be.  With Jupiter they
would have opposed the Titans; with Prometheus, Jupiter;
1 Thorns here plainly mean suffering, Fasio di hruini che ai mtesso al
tu ojratello.
266 
CAIN AND HIS WORSHIPPERS
as early Christians they would have rebelled against the
Pagans, and as heretics, Orientalised Templars, Vaudois,
illuminati, sorcerers, and witches, they would have undermined the Church, never perceiving that its system or
doctrine was, au fond, fetish, like their own. Among
these rebels it was long the rule to regard those gods
or men who were specially reviled by their foes or
oppressors as calumniated.   Even Satan was to them
"the puir deil; " according to the Taborites, an oppressed
elder brother of Christ, or a kind of Man in an Iron Mask
kept out of his rights by Jehovah the XIV. These discontented ones deified all who had been devilled, found
out that Jezebel had been a femine incomprise, and the
Scarlet Woman only an interesting highly-coloured variant
of the ancient hoary myth of Mademoiselle or Miss Salina
the Innocent. When Judas was mentioned, they solemnly
remarked that there was a great deal to be said on both
sides of that question; while others believed that Ananias
and Sapphira had been badly sat upon, and deserved to
be worshipped as saints of appropriation-a cult, by the
way, the secret observance of which has by no means
died out at the present day-several great men being
regarded in Paris as its last great high priests.
The Cainites, as known by that name to the Church,
were a Gnostic sect of the second century, and are first
mentioned by Irenaeus, who connects them with the Valentinians, of whom I thought but yesterday when I saw
in a church a sarcophagus warranted to contain the corpse
of St. Valentine. They believed that Cain derived his
existence from the supreme power, but Abel from the
inferior, and that in this respect he was the first of a line
which included Esau, Korah, the dwellers in Sodom and
Gomorrah, the worshippers of Ashtoreth-Mylitta, or the
boundless sensualists, the sorcerers, and witches.
Considering what human nature is, and its instincts to
opposition, we can see that there must have been natu
267 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
rally a sect who regarded Cain as a misjudged martyr.
Abel appeared to them as the prosperous well-to-do
bourgeois, high in favour with the Lord, a man with
flocks, while Cain was a tiller of the ground, a poor
peasant out of favour.  It must be admitted that in the
Book of Genesis, in the history of the first murder, we
are much reminded of the high priest Chlalcas in La Belle
Helene, where he exclaims, " Trop de j7eurs!" and expresses a preference for cattle.  It is the old story of the
socialists and anarchists, which is ever new.
The witches and sorcerers of early times were a widely
spread class who had retained the beliefs and traditions
of heathenism with all its license and romance and charm
of the forbidden. At their head were the Promethean Templars, at their tail all the ignorance and superstition of the
time, and in their ranks every one who was oppressed or
injured either by the nobility or the Church. They were
treated with indescribable cruelty, in most cases worse
than beasts of burden, for they were outraged in all their
feelings, not at intervals for punishment, but habitually
by custom, and they revenged themselves by secret orgies
and fancied devil-worship, and occult ties, and stupendous
sins, or what they fancied were such.   I can seriously
conceive-what no writer seems to have consideredthat there must have been an immense satisfaction in
selling or giving one's self to the devil, or to any power
which was at war with their oppressors. So they went by
night, at the full moon, and sacrificed to Diana, or "later
on " to Satan, and danced and rebelled. It is very well
worth noting that we have all our accounts of sorcerers
and heretics from Catholic priests, who had every earthly
reason for misrepresenting them, and did so. In the vast
amount of ancient witchcraft still surviving in Italy there
is not much anti-Christianity, but a great deal of early
heathenism.  Diana, not Satan, is still the real head of the
witches. The Italian witch, as the priest Grillandus said,
268 
CAIN AND HIS WVORSHIPPERS
stole oil to make a love-charm.' But she did not, and
does not say, as he declared, in doing so, "I renounce
Christ." There the priest plainly lied. The whole history
of the witch mania is an ecclesiastical falsehood, in which
such lies were subtly grafted on the truth. But in due
time the Church, and the Protestants with them, created
a Satanic witchcraft of their own, and it is this aftergrowth which is now regarded as witchcraft in truth.
Cain-worshippers and witches seem to have been all
in the same boat. I think it very likely that in these two
traditions which I have given we have a remnant of the
actual literature of the Cainites, that Gnostic-revived and
mystical sect of the Middle Ages. But I doubt not that
its true origin is far older than Christianity, and lost in
earliest time.
One last remark. We are told in the tale that Abel,
having become rich, "cut" the Lord, or would speak
to him  no  longer.   I suppose  that he  dropped  the
synagogue and Yom kippur, and became a Reformirter,
and his children in due time  Goyim.   Also that he
wanted to become a wizard, which may be a hint that he
was "no conjuror."  But it is seriously a proof of the
naivete', and consequent probable antiquity of the tale,
that these details are not "wrote sarcastic," nor intended
for humour. And it is also interesting to observe how
impartially the narrator declares that Cain was "a good
man," and how he, in pleading his own cause before the
Lord, insists that in killing Abel he only inadvertently
forgot himself for an instant. One almost expects to hear
him promise that he will not do it again.
It is a striking proof of the antiquity of this tradition
1 It is amusing that this stealing oil wherewith to make love-charms,
which was denounced so bitterly as damnable sorcery at one time, and
frequently punished by death, i.e., by burning alive, is now tacitly encouraged by the priests. There are churches about Rome in which the oil is
placed where it may be stolen or taken, it being understood that a solto or
two shall be left to pay for it.
269
1I 
LEGENDS OF FLORENCE
of Cain, as I have given it, that the witch or wizard
sympathy for the first murderer is in it unmistakable.
The sending Cain to the moon, instead of hell, is
understood  to be a mitigation  of his sentence.   In
his work on magicians and witches, A.D. I1707, Goldschmidt devotes many pages to set forth what was believed by all the learned of his time, that Cain was the
father of all the wizards, and his children, the Cainites,
the creators of the Gaber, fire-idolators, Cabiri, magic
soothsaying, and so forth.   So the tradition lived on,
utterly forgotten by all good people, and yet it is to me
so quaint as to be almost touching to find it still existing,
a fragment of an old creed outworn here among poor
witches in Florence.
"Sacher Masoch," a Galician novelist, informs us in a
romance, "The Legacy of Cain," that the Cainites still
exist in Russia, and that their religion is represented by
the following charming creed:
"Satan is the master of the world; therefore it is a sin to
belong to Church or State, and marriage is also a capital sin.
Six things constitute the legacy of Cain: Love, Property,
Government, War, and Death. Such was the legacy of Cain,
who was condemned to be a wanderer and a fugitive on earth."
I have another apparently very ancient conjuration of a
mirror, in two parts. It is of the blackest witchcraft, of the
most secret kind, and is only intended to injure an enemy.
From an article in La Rivista delle Tradizione Popolare
of July i894, by F. Montuori, I learn that in a little work
by San Prato on "Cain and the Thorns according to
Dante and Popular Tradition," Ancona, i88i, which I
have not seen, the history of Cain is given much as told
by Maddalena. What is chiefly interesting in the version
of Maddalena is, however, wanting in all the folklore on
the subject collected by others; it is the manifest trace of
Cainism, of sympathy with the first murder, and in its
heresy. This opens for us a far wider field of research
270 
CAIN AND HIS WORSHIPPERS
and valuable historical information than the rather trivial
fact that Cain is simply the Man in the Moon.
Merk in Die Sitten und Gebrducize der Deutschen, gives
(p. 644), from Wolf, a strange legend which is nearly
allied to Moon worship by witches, and the mirror:
,"There was a man in Kortryk who was called Klare Mone
(bright moon), and he got his name from this. One night
when sleeping on his balcony he heard many women's voices
sweetly singing. They held goblets [there is some confusion
here with glaiserne Pfannen or glass panes in the roof from
which the man looked; I infer that the witches drank from
"glass pans," i.e., metallic mirrors], and as they drank they
sang:
"' We are drinking the sweetest of earthly wine,
For we drink of the clear and bright moonshine.'
"But as the man approached them,'with a club to beat
or kill them, all vanished.'"
"Which fable teaches," as the wise  Flaxius notes,
"what indeed this whole book tends to show-that few
people know or heed what witches ever really were. Now,
that this boor wished to slay the sorceresses with a club,
for drinking moonshine, is only what the whole world is
doing to all who have different ideas from ours as to what
constitutes enjoyment. So in all history, under all creeds,
even unto this day, people have been clubbed, hung, tortured, and baked alive, or sent to Coventry for the crime
of drinking moonshine!"
And so this volume ends, oh reader mine!
"So the visions flee,
So the dreams depart;
And the sad reality,
Now must act its part."
lte, lector benevole,
lte, missa est.
AUG 15 iqg
27I 
Printedi by 13ALLANTYNE, HANSON & Co.
Edinburgh and London
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