Legends Of Florence Part 4

"'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 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 hiding-chamber, 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 G.o.ds; it caused all the _folletti_, _fate_, _diavoli_, _strege_, and _maliardi_ 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. {24}

"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 Zen.o.bio, the more liberal swore it was Crescenzio, the people held to plain San Antonino. The Signore became a great man.

"'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 a.s.sa.s.sins. And I swore to watch over thee in every peril, and bring thee to a happy end.'

"'Il momenta e arrivato; Addio, Via del Corno!

Addio, palazzo, addio!

Addio, padrone, nel altro mondo!'

"'The final hour has come for me; Street of the Horn, farewell to thee!

Farewell, O palace, farewell, O 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 a.s.sistance, 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 s.h.i.+eld, 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, O 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."

FRATE 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_, 1864,

"Und sie war gar sehr erstannet uber die Adresse und List dieses Munchleins."-_l.u.s.tige Thaten des Kloster-bruders Hannes von Lehnin_, A.D. 1589.

"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 circ.u.mstances. 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 all the Zoccoloni out of Rome, {27} 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 lute, 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 _dalla cercha_, "from the quest," and found himself still a few miles from Florence. And good fortune had favoured him marvellously that day, for his a.s.s bore two panniers which were _ben carichi d'ogni sorta di grazia di Dio_-"stuffed full with all sorts of mercies of G.o.d," such as bags of wheat, maize, wheat-meal, chickens, oil, cheese, b.u.t.ter, wine, truffles, onions, geese, turnips, sausages, bread, ducks; in short, Signore, as I said, there was _ogni sorta di grazia 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 upwards. 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 l.u.s.ty 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 fearful _fraca.s.so_-a 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 a.s.s and rode away, and returning to the convent, thought it all over, till he 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 pa.s.s 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 a.s.sault, and left the window open so that he could easily escape, and so went to bed.

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 thras.h.i.+ng, 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!"

THE LEGEND OF THE CROCE AL TREBBIO

"The bell in the Bargello called the Montanara obtained the name of the _Campana delle Arme_ 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 Trajan_."

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 1244, is a work of the Pisan school, but whether it is by Niccol or Giovanni Pisani, who were in Florence about that epoch, there is nothing to show. There was {31} a curious Latin inscription in Gothic letters, which began: _Sanctus Ambrosius c.u.m Sancto Zen.o.bio propter grande mysterium hanc crucem_-and went on to say that it was _reconstructed_ by the bishops of Florence and of Aquileia in August 1308. 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?"