It did not occur to me to include this tale among the Virgilian legends, but finding that the compiler of “Virgilius the Sorcerer” (1893) has begun with a legend of Romulus and Remus, I have done the same, having one by me. As the giant said to the storytelling ram, “There is nothing like beginning at the commencement.”
“And truly thisaurum potabile, or drinkable gold, is a marvellous thing, for it worketh wonders to sustain human life, removing all disorders, and ’tis said that it will revive the dead.”—Phil. Ulstadt:Cælum Philosophorum,seu Liber de Secretis.“And there be magic mirrors in which we may see the forms of our enemies, and the like, battalions for battle, and sieges, and all such things.”—Peter Goldschmid:The Witch and Wizard’s Advocate overthrown(1705).
“And truly thisaurum potabile, or drinkable gold, is a marvellous thing, for it worketh wonders to sustain human life, removing all disorders, and ’tis said that it will revive the dead.”—Phil. Ulstadt:Cælum Philosophorum,seu Liber de Secretis.
“And there be magic mirrors in which we may see the forms of our enemies, and the like, battalions for battle, and sieges, and all such things.”—Peter Goldschmid:The Witch and Wizard’s Advocate overthrown(1705).
There was once in an old temple in Rome a great man, a very learned Signore. His name was Virgilio, or Virgil.He was a magician, but very good in all things to all men; he had a kind heart, and was ever a friend to the poor.
Virgil was as brave and fearless as he was good. And he was a famous poet—his songs were sung all over Italy. Some say that he was the son of a fairy (fata), and that his father was a King of the magicians; others declared that his mother was the most beautiful woman in the whole world, and that her name wasElena(Helen), and his father was a spirit. And how it came about was thus:
When all the great lords and princes were in love with the beautiful Elena, she replied that she would marry no one, having a great dread of bearing children. She would not become a mother. And to avoid further wooing and pursuing she shut herself up in a tower, and believed herself to be in safety, because it was far without the walls of Rome. And the door to it was walled up, so that no one could enter it. But the god Jove (Giove) entered; he did so by changing himself into many small pieces of gilded paper (gold-leaf), which came down into the tower like a shower.
The beautiful Helen held in her hand a cup of wine, and many of the bits of gold-leaf fell into it.
“How pretty it looks!” said Helen. “It would be a pity to throw it away. The gold does not change the wine. If I drink the gold I shall enjoy good health and ever preserve my beauty.”
But hardly had Helen drunk the wine, before she felt a strange thrill in all her body, a marvellous rapture, a change of her whole being, followed by complete exhaustion. And in time she found herself with child, and cursed the moment when she drank the wine. And to her in this way was born Virgil, who had in his forehead a most beautiful star of gold. Three fairies aided at his birth; the Queen of the Fairies cradled him in a cradle made of roses. She made a fire of twigs of laurel; it crackled loudly. To the crackling of twigs of laurel he was born. His mother felt no pain. The three each gave him a blessing; the wind as it blew into the window wished him good fortune; the light of the stars, and the lamp and the fire, who are all spirits, gave him glory and song. He was born fair and strong and beautiful; all who saw him wondered.
Then it happened, when Virgil was fourteen years old, that one day in summer he went to an old solitary temple, all ruined and deserted, and therein he laid down to sleep.But ere he had closed his eyes he heard a sound as of a voice lamenting, and it said:
“Alas! I am a prisoner!Will no one set me free?If any man can do it,Full happy shall he be.”
“Alas! I am a prisoner!Will no one set me free?If any man can do it,Full happy shall he be.”
Then Virgil said:
“Tell me who thou art and where thou art.”
And the voice answered:
“I am a spirit,Imprisoned in a vaseUnder the stoneWhich is beneath thy head.”
“I am a spirit,Imprisoned in a vaseUnder the stoneWhich is beneath thy head.”
Then Virgil lifted the stone and found a vase, which was closed; and he opened it, and there came forth a beautiful spirit, who told him that there was also in the vase a book of magic and necromancy (magia e gramanzia).
“Therein wilt thou find all secretsWhich thou desirest to obtain,To make what thou wilt into gold,To make the dead speak,To make them come before thee,To go invisibly where thou wilt,To become a great poet.Thou wilt learn the lost secretHow to become great and beautiful;Thou wilt rediscover the mysteryOf predicting what is to take place;Yea, to win fortune in every game.”
“Therein wilt thou find all secretsWhich thou desirest to obtain,To make what thou wilt into gold,To make the dead speak,To make them come before thee,To go invisibly where thou wilt,To become a great poet.Thou wilt learn the lost secretHow to become great and beautiful;Thou wilt rediscover the mysteryOf predicting what is to take place;Yea, to win fortune in every game.”
By the vase was a magic wand, the most powerful ever known. And from that day Virgil, who had been as small as a dwarf, became a tall, stately, very handsome man.
This was his first great work: he made a mirror wherein one could see all that was going on in any country in the world, in any city, as well into any house as anywhere. Keeping the mirror hidden (beneath his cloak), he went to the Emperor. And because he was a very handsome man, well dressed, and also by the aid of the mirror, he was permitted to go into the hall where the Emperor sat. And, conversing with him, the Emperor was so pleased that he spoke more familiarly and confidentially than he was wont to do with his best friends; at which the courtiers who were present were angry with jealousy.
Turning to Virgil, the Emperor said:
“I would give a thousand gold crowns to know just what the Turks are doing now, and if they mean to make war on me.”
Virgil replied:
“If your Highness will go into another room, I can show in secret what the Turks are now doing.”
“But how you can make me see what the Turks are doing is more than I can understand,” replied the Emperor. “However, let us go, if it be only to see what fancy thou hast in thy head.”
Then the Emperor rose, and giving his arm to Virgil, went to a room apart, where the magician showed and explained to him (per filo e per segna) all that the Turks were about. And the Emperor was amazed at seeing clearly what Virgil had promised to show. Then he gave to Virgil the thousand crowns with his own hand, and was ever from that day his friend. And so Virgil rose in the world.
In this tale there is as quaint and naïve a mixture of traditions and ideas as one could desire. The fair Helen, in her tower of Troy, becomes Danae visited by Jupiter, and as the narrator had certainly seen Dantzic Golden Water, or some other cordial with gold-leaf in it, the story of the shower is changed into aureated wine. It is evident that the one who recast the legend endeavoured to make this incident intelligible. All the rest is mediæval. “Gold,” says Helen, “will preserve my beauty.” Thus theaurum potabileof the alchemists was supposed to do the same as Paracelsus declared.
We all recognise a great idea when put into elaborate form by a skilled artist, but to perceive it as a diamond in the rough and recognise its value is apparently given to few. It is true that those few may themselves be neither poets nor geniuses—just as the Hottentot who can find or discern diamonds may be no lapidary or jeweller. What I would say is, that such ideas or motives abound in this Italian witch-lore to a strange extent.
Thus, the making Virgil a son of Jupiter by a Helen-Danae is a flight of mythologic invention, far surpassing in boldness anything given in the Neapolitan legends of the poet. Thomas Carlyle and Vernon Lee have expressed with great skill great admiration of the idea that Faust begat with the fair Helen the Renaissance. It was indeed a magnificent conception, but in very truth this fathering of Virgil, the grand type of poetry and magic, and of all earthly wisdom, by Jupiter on Helen-Danae is far superior to it in every way. For Virgil to the legend-maker represented the Gothic or Middle Ages in all their beauty and exuberance, their varied learning and splendid adventure, far more perfectly than did the mere vulgar juggler and thaumaturgist Faust, as the latter appears in every legend until Goethe transfigured him. And, strangely enough, the Virgilian cyclus, as I have given it, is as much of the Renaissance as it is classic or mediæval. The Medicis are in it to the life. In very truth it was Virgil, and not Faust, who was the typical magicianpar éminenceafter Apollonius, some of whose legends he, in fact, inherited. And Virgil has come to us with a traditional character as marked and peculiar as any in Shakespeare—which Faust did not. He has passed through the ages not only as a magus and poet, but as a personality, and a very remarkable one.
There is another very curious, and, indeed, great idea lurking in these witch-Virgilian legends, especially set forth in this of the birth and continued in all. It is that there is in them a cryptic, latent heathenism, a sincere, lingering love of the old gods, and especially of thedii minores, offateor fays, and fauns and fairies, of spirits of the air and of rivers and fountains, an adorationof Diana as the moon-queen of the witches, and a far greater familiarity with incantations than prayers, or more love of sorceries than sacraments. Whenever it can be done, even as a post-scriptum, we have a conjuration or spell, as if the tale had awakened in the mind of the narrator a feeling of piety towards “the old religion.” The romances of Mercury, and Janus, and Vesta, and Apollo, and Diana all inspire the narrator to pray to them in all sincerity, just as a Catholic, after telling a legend of a saint, naturally repeats a prayer to him or a novena. It is the last remains of classic faith.
Or we may say, as things fell out, that the Goethean-Helen-Faust-Renaissance poem represents things as they were, or as they came to pass, as if it were the acme, while the Virgilian tradition which I here impart indicates things as they might have happened, had the stream of evolution been allowed to run on in its natural course, just as Julian the apostate (or rather apostle of the gospel of letting things be) held that progress or culture and science might have advanced just as surely and rapidly on the old heathen lines as any other. According to Heine, this would have saved us all an immense amount of trouble in our school-studies, in learning Latin and mythology, had we kept on as we were.
I mean by this that these traditions of Virgil indicate, as no other book does, the condition of a naïvely heathen mind, “suckled in a creed out-worn,” believing in the classic mythology half turned to fairies, much more sincerely, I fear, than many of my readers do in the Bible, and from this we may gather very curious reflection as to whether men may not haveideas of culture, honesty, and mercy in common, whatever their religion may be.
The marvels of the birth of Virgil of old, as told by Donatus, probably after the lost work of Suetonius, are that his mother Maia dreamed,se enixam laureum ramum, that she gave birth to a branch of laurel; that he did not cry when born, and that the pine-tree planted according to ancient custom on that occasion attained in a very short time to a great height, which thing often happens when plants grow near hot springs, as is the case on the Margariten Island, by Budapesth, where everything attains to full-size in one-third of the usual time. The custom of planting a pine-tree on the birth of a child, in the belief that its condition will always indicate its subject’s health and prosperity, is still common among the Passamaquoddy, and other Red Indians in America, I having had such a tree pointed out to me by an old grandfather.
In the Aryan or Hindu mythology Buddha, who subsequently becomes a greatmagusand healer of all ills, like Christ, “was born of the mother-tree Maya,” according to J. F. Hewitt (“L’Histoire et les Migrations de la Croix et du Su-astika,” Bruxelles, 1898). He was the son of Kapila Vastu, who was born holding in his hands a medicament, whence he became “the Child of Medicine,” or of healing. Buddha appears to be confused with his father.
Now Virgil is clearly stated to be born of Maya or Maia, who is a mythical tree; his life is involved in that of a mysterious tree, and in more than one legend he is unquestionably identical with Esculapius, the god of medicine.
“Qualis spelunca subito commota Columba,Cui domus, et dulces latebroso in pumice nidi,Fertur in arva volans, plausumque exterrita pennisDat tecto ingentem; mox ære lapsa quietoRadit iter liquidum, celeres neque commovet alas.”Virgilius:Aen., V. 213.
“Qualis spelunca subito commota Columba,Cui domus, et dulces latebroso in pumice nidi,Fertur in arva volans, plausumque exterrita pennisDat tecto ingentem; mox ære lapsa quietoRadit iter liquidum, celeres neque commovet alas.”
Virgilius:Aen., V. 213.
This is another story, telling how Virgil first met the Emperor.
It happened on a time that the Emperor of Rome invited many of his friends to a hunt, and on the appointed day all assembled with fine horses and hounds, gay attendants, and sounding horns—tutti allegri e contenti, “all as gay as larks.”
And when they came to the place, they left their horses and went into the forest, where it befell, as usual, that some got game, while others returned lame; but on the whole they came to camp with full bags and many brags of their adventures and prowess, and supped merrily.
“It is ever so,” said the Emperor to a courtier, “one stumbles, and another grumbles; then the next minute something joyful comes, and he smiles.
“‘Thus it is true in every landGood luck and bad go hand in hand.’”
“‘Thus it is true in every landGood luck and bad go hand in hand.’”
“When men speak in that tone,” replied the courtier, “they often prophesy. Now, there is near by an ancient grotto, long forgot by men, wherein if you will sleep you may have significant dreams, even as people had in the olden time.”
So when night came on some of the courtiers went to a contadino house to lodge, while others camped outalla stella, or in thealbergo al fresco, while the Emperor was guided by the courtier to an old ruin, where in a solid rock there was a door of stone, which Virgil opened by a spell. (Sicin MS.)
The Emperor was then led through a long passage into a cave, which was dry and comfortable enough, and where the attendants made a bed, whereon His Highness lay down, and, being very weary, was soon asleep.
But he had not slumbered long ere, as it seemed to him, he was awakened by the loud barking of a dog, and sawbefore him to his amazement a marvellously beautiful lady clad in white, with a resplendent star (crescent) on her forehead. In her right hand she bore a white dove, and in her left another, which was black.
When the lady, or goddess, saw that the Emperor was awake, she let both the doves fly. The white one, after circling several times round his head, alighted on his shoulder. The black one also flew about him, and then winged its course far away.
Then the lady disappeared, and the white dove followed her, and sat on her shoulder as she fled.
The Emperor was so much amazed, or deeply moved, by this strange sight that he slept no more, but remained all night meditating on it, nor did he on the morrow give any heed to the chase, but ever reflected on the lady and her doves.
The courtier asked him what had occurred. And the Emperor replied:
“I have had a wonderful vision, and I cannot tell the meaning thereof.”
The gentleman replied:
“There is in Rome a young man, a poet and sage, of whom I have heard strange things, and I believe that he excels in unfolding signs and mysteries.”
“It is well,” replied the Emperor. So when they returned to Rome he sent for the magician, who came, yet he knew beforehand why he was summoned to Court. And it is said that this was the first time when the Emperor knew Virgil.[12]
Now, Virgil was as yet a young man. And when the Emperor set forth what he had beheld, he replied:
“It is a marvellously favourable sign for you, oh my Emperor, for in that lady you have seen your star. There is a planet allotted to every man, and thine is of the greatest. Thou hast one—call to her, invoke her ever when in need of help, and she will never abandon thee. Thou hast seen thy star. Her greeting to thee (saluto) means that a year hence a danger will threaten thee. The black dove signifies that one year hence thou wilt have an enemy who will make war on thee. When the dove fled afar, it was not the dove but the enemy, who will be put toflight. And the white dove was not a dove, but your victory announced to you in that form, and your star has announced it because in one year you will have, as the proverb says, ‘the enemy at your heels.’”
And all this came to pass as he had foretold.
Then the poet and magician became his friend, and from that time the Emperor never moved a leaf (i.e.did nothing) without taking the advice of Virgil.
The goddess, or planet, described in this tale is very evidently Diana, appropriately introduced as the deity of the chase, but more significantly as the queen of the witches, and mistress of mysteries and divination. In both forms the dog has a peculiar adaptation, because a black dog was the common attendant of a sorcerer, as exampled by that of Henry C. Agrippa.
The dove is so widely spread in this world, and is everywhere so naturally recognised as a pretty, innocent creature, that it is no wonder that very different and distant races should have formed much the same ideas and traditions regarding it. It is a curious anomaly that while doves, especially in Roman Catholic symbolism, are the special symbols of love and peace, there are in reality no animals or birds which fight and peck so assiduously among themselves, as I have verified by much observation. However, herein the pious mythologists “builded better than they knew,” for theodium theologicum, either with heretics or among rivals in the Church, has been the cause of more quarrelling than any other in the world—woman perhaps excepted.
In the Egyptian symbolism, a widow who, out of love for her husband, will not wed again was typified by a black dove.[13]The dove who brought the olive-leafto Noah was generally recognised as symbolizing the new birth of the world, or its regeneration after a divine bath or lustration, and the same meaning is attached to its appearance at the baptism of Christ. A German writer named Wernsdorf has written two books on the dove as a symbol, viz., “De simulacro columbæ in locis sacris antiquitas recepto,” Viterbo, 1773; and “De Columba auriculæ Gregorii adhærente,” Witteberg, 1780.
As Diana always bears the crescent, here confounded or identified very naturally with a star—both being heavenly bodies—the representing her as the peculiar planet of the Emperor is very ingenious. In seeing her he beholds his star, and, in the mute language of emblems, hears her voice. Truly there is unto all of us a star, but it is within and not without, and its name is the Will, which, when revealed or understood, can work miracles.
“So mote it be!”
One night, when he was young, Virgil was in Naples; he went to visit a very beautiful woman. And when he left her at midnight he found the house surrounded bybravior assassins, who had been placed there to kill him by a signore who was his rival.
Then the magician ran for his life, followed by all the crew, till he came to a steep rock like a high wall. And here he paused, and cried aloud during the minute which he had gained, this incantation:
“Apri spirito della rupe,Apri il tuo cuore a me.Spirito gentile, abbi,Abbi pietà di me,Se tu vuoi che IddioAbbia pietà di te.”“Mighty spirit of the mountain,Ope thy rocky heart to me.Gentle sprite, I pray theeHave mercy upon me,As thou truly hopestThat God may pity thee.”
“Apri spirito della rupe,Apri il tuo cuore a me.Spirito gentile, abbi,Abbi pietà di me,Se tu vuoi che IddioAbbia pietà di te.”
“Mighty spirit of the mountain,Ope thy rocky heart to me.Gentle sprite, I pray theeHave mercy upon me,As thou truly hopestThat God may pity thee.”
Then the rock opened, and Virgil fled into it and was saved.
Those who sought his life followed. And Virgil went forth, but while they were in the passage it closed at both ends, and they all perished. So was Virgil saved.
It came to pass in time that Virgil, seeing it would be of great use, opened the grotto, and it is there to this day.
There was no place where Virgil did not leave some great work, whence it came that his name is known to all the world.
There is a curious reflection, and one of great value to folk-lore, to be drawn from this, and in fact from all of these stories. It is believed—actually believed, and not merely assumed to make a tale—that the conjurations given in them have the effect attributed to them when they are uttered by any wizard or witch or person who is prepared by magic or faith. Therefore such tales as told by witches are only a frame, as it were, wherein a lesson-picture is set. This induces a deeper, hence a more advanced, kind of reflection or moral than is conveyed by common, popular fairy-tales. The one condition naturally leads to another. There is very little trace of it in the “Mährchen” of Grimm, Crane, Pitré, or Bernoni. In thenovelleof Boccacio, Sachetti, Bandello and others, of which literally thousands were produced during and after the Renaissance, there is very often a commonplacekind of moral, such as follows all fables, but it is not of the same kind as that which is involved in witch-stories. Even in this of Virgil the invocation to the Spirit of the Rock, adjuring it to be merciful as it hopes for mercy from God, is beyond what is generally found in common traditions.
All of these conjurations, to have due effect, must be intoned in a certain manner, which is so peculiar that anyone who is familiar with it can recognise at a distance, where the words are not to be distinguished, by the mere sound of the voice, whether an incantation is being sung. Hence the greatest care and secresy is observed when teaching or chanting them.
Among the Red Indians of North America this is carried so far that, as one who took lessons from an Oneida sorcerer informs us, it required study every day for seven years to learn how to correctly intone one spell of twelve lines. The same is told of the old Etruscan-Latin spells in the “Dizionario Myth. Storico.”
This legend is specially interesting because the tomb of Virgil is close by the grotto of Posillippo, and it is conjectured that as it was, according to tradition, made by magic, Virgil probably made it. Therefore it may have been the first of these tales. Why the grotto was specially regarded as mysterious is almost apparent to all who have studied cave and stone worship. In early times, in the mysteries, the going through a hole or passage, especially in a rock, signified the new birth, or illumination, or initiation, hence the cult of holy or holed stones, great or small, found all over the world. Such writers as Faber and Bryant have, it is true, somewhat overdone guess-work symbolism,or fanciful interpretation, but that the passing through the dark tunnel and coming to light played a part in old rites is unquestionable, and that this respect for the subject extended to all perforated stones and even beads.
Incantations or spells are of two kinds—the traditional, and those which a powerful or gifted magician or witch improvises. This of Virgil is of the latter kind.
“Quo ducit gula?”—Latin Saying.“I am passionately fond of truffles, though I never tasted them.”—Xavier de Montepin.
“Quo ducit gula?”—Latin Saying.
“I am passionately fond of truffles, though I never tasted them.”—Xavier de Montepin.
One day Virgil was at table with the Emperor, and the latter complained that his cook was a dolt, because he could never find anything new to tempt his appetite, and that he had to eat the same kind of dishes over and over again.
“What I would like,” he said, “would be some kind of new taste or flavour. There must be many a one as yet unknown to the kitchen.”
Then Virgil, reflecting, said:
“I will see to-morrow if I cannot find something of the kind which will please your Highness.” Whereupon all who were present expressed delight, for no one doubted that he could do whatever he attempted.
So the next day Virgil went into the forests, where there were many pigs, and considered attentively what the roots might be which they dug up with such great care; for he had remarked that whatever men eat pigs also like, above all other animals. And having obtained some of the roots, which were like dark-brown or black lumps, he took them to the Emperor’s cook, and said:
“Wash these well and cut them fine, and I will see to the cooking.”
That day the Emperor had invited several friends to see what new dish Virgil would produce; and when they were assembled at table, Virgilio took the roots, cut fine, put them into a pan with oil and beaten eggs, and served them up with his own hands. And the smell thereof was so appetizing that all cried, “Evviva Virgilio!” even before they had tasted the dish. But when they had eaten of it, they were delighted indeed, and one and all wished to know what the roots were which gave such a delicate flavour; to which Virgil, rising, replied:
“Truffles!”[18]
And ever since that time, even at the table of the Pope, or any other rich man, no one has ever discovered any better flavour for food than this which was first found out by Virgil.
One day not long after this took place Virgil was in his study, when, looking at the stone in a ring which he wore, he exclaimed: “The Emperor wishes to see me!” And sure enough, a few minutes later a messenger entered, saying that his imperial master desired to speak to the sage. And, having obeyed the call, he found the Emperor ill and suffering from an indigestion.
“Caro Virgilio,” exclaimed the Emperor, “I have made thee come because I am suffering from disorder; and as that pig of a cook who caused it can give me nothing to eat to relieve it, I have recourse to science, for I know that thou art a great doctor.”
“Truly,” replied Virgil. “Very simple doctoring is needed here. Just tell the cook to boil wheat-bran in water, mix it with the yolk of an egg, and drink it in the morning before you rise.”
“Bran boiled in water!” repeated the Emperor slowly. “Just what they give to pigs! Truly, it seems that you have brought me down to a pig’s level, since you give me ‘hogs’ broth,’ as they call it.”
“I wonder,” exclaimed Virgil, “since your Highness is so humble, that you do not put yourself below the pigs, because you have abused like a pig, and many a time, thatpoor devil of a cook for not pleasing your palate. It is not long since I delighted you, and had applause from all, for serving truffles at your imperial table. Hadhedone so, you would have curiously inquired what the roots were and whence they came; and having learned that they werecibo di maiali, or pigs’ food, you would have cast him forth, and the truffles after him. For such is the wisdom of this world, and so is man deluded! But as for the bran boiled in water, whether it be pigs’ broth or not, ’tis the specific for your illness.”
“Ah well, my dear Virgilio,” replied the Emperor, “in future serve me up as many pigs’ dainties and give me as much pigs’-doctor stuff as you please, provided that all be as good as truffles, or the medicine bran broth. It is foolish to be led by mere fancies: a pig or a peasant may know as well as a prince what is pleasant for the palate or good as a cure.Evviva Virgilio!”
In this merry tale I have followed to the letter an undoubted original, which was in every detail new to me; and this is the more remarkable since there is in it decidedly the stamp and expression of a kind of humour and philosophy which seems to be peculiar to individual or literary genius. The joke of pigs’ dainties, pigs’ remedies, the calling the cook a pig, and the final reduction of the Emperor to a degree below that animal, is carried out with great ingenuity, yet as marked simplicity.
The best truffles in Italy are sold as coming fromNorcia, and Nortia, who was an old Etruscan goddess, known to the original Virgil, is in popular tradition in Tuscany the Spirit of Truffles, to whom those who seek them address ascongiurazione, or evocation, which may be found in my “Etrusco-Roman Remains.” In Christian symbolism the truffle is associated with St. Antony and his pig. When the saint had resolved to die by hunger, the pig dug up and brought to him anumber of truffles, the saint seeing in this an intimation by a miracle that he should eat and live, which thing would seem to be poetically commemorated in thesaucisses aux truffes, or Gotha sausages, in which pork and truffles are beautifully combined.
The most remarkable variety of the truffle is one found in the United States, south of Pennsylvania. It is calledtuckahoe, or Indian bread, and, with most things American, is remarkable for bigness at least, since it weighs sometimes fifteen pounds and hides at a depth of fifteen feet underground. Like California fruit, it is far more remarkable for size or weight than excellence. An incredible quantity of so-called truffles, which appear thinly sliced or in small bits in dishes even in first-class hotels or restaurants all over Europe, are nothing but burned potatoes, or similar vegetable carbon, flavoured sometimes with extract of mushrooms, but much oftener are simply tasteless soft coal. Very good truffles, equal to the French, for which they are sold, are found in the South of England. The truffle is, like raw meat, caviare, and oysters, strongly stimulating food, and as apuréeor paste is beneficial for anæmic invalids.
There once lived in Florence in the days of King Long-Ago or Queen Formerly a signore who went beyond all the men who ever sinned, in making evil out of good and turning light into darkness. For, under cover of being very devout and serving the saints, he well-nigh outdid many a devil in making all about him unhappy. He had six children, three boys and three girls, all as fine young folk as there were in Tuscany. For he was severe in punishing and slow in rewarding, always reviling, never giving a kind word. Once when his eldest son saved him from drowning at the risk of his own life, he abused and struck the youth for tearing his garment in so doing. And in his family there was ever the wolf at the table with such a hunger that one could see it,[21a]while all save himself went so sorrily clad that it was a shame to behold, and if anyone made a jest or so much as smiled there came abuse and blows. And to offend and grieve and insult was so deeply in him that it became a disease.
However, evil weeds must fade as well as flowers; everything dies except Death, and the longer time he takes to sharpen his scythe, the more keenly will it cut. So it came to pass that one day this good man, but very bad parent, came suddenly to his death-bed, while his children stood round with eyes as dry as the Arno in August, which, though it may shine here and there, never runs over.[21b]
Now, by chance there stood by the dying man the great magician Virgilio, who indeed had much love and pity for these young people. And at the same minute, but seen only by him, there came floating in, like a bit of gold-leaf on a light feather, borne on the current of air, a certainfolletto, or devil, who had been drifting about in the world for a thousand years, and in all that time had only learned more and more that everything is naught, or nothing of much consequence, and that good or evil stand for oneanother, according to circumstances. And as the dying man was one who, above all people living, made the meanest trifle a thing of vast importance, so this devil, whose name was Balsàbo, went beyond all his own kind ofdiavoli pococurantiin being unlike the great Signore di Tribaldo (as the dead man was called), he being adiavolo a dirittura, a devil in a straight line, or directly forward. And this demon being invisible to all save Virgil, the master said to him secretly:
“Art thou willing to enter this man’s body and act as his soul, and become father of a family?”
“As ready for that as for anything. No doubt I will find fun in it,” answered Balsàbo.
Then Virgil said:
“Spirito di Belsàbo,Io ti scongiuròChe per comando mioTu lasci una vita sfrenataCome ’ai tenuto per il passatoE dentro il corpo di TribaldoTu possa entrare e divenireUn capo di famigliaFino a ordine mio.E tutti queiFanciulli educherai (sic).”“Spirit of Belsàbo,I now conjure theeThat by my commandThou shalt leave the lewd lifeWhich thou did’st lead of old,And enter into this bodyOf Di Tribaldo, and becomeHead of a family,And educate his children.”
“Spirito di Belsàbo,Io ti scongiuròChe per comando mioTu lasci una vita sfrenataCome ’ai tenuto per il passatoE dentro il corpo di TribaldoTu possa entrare e divenireUn capo di famigliaFino a ordine mio.E tutti queiFanciulli educherai (sic).”
“Spirit of Belsàbo,I now conjure theeThat by my commandThou shalt leave the lewd lifeWhich thou did’st lead of old,And enter into this bodyOf Di Tribaldo, and becomeHead of a family,And educate his children.”
So into the body he went, as the spirit of Di Tribaldo went out, like the toy which shows the weather in which one puppet pops forth as the other goes in. So there he lay for a minute, all the children around in silent amazement that he had departed without cursing them. When all at once up leaped Balsàbo, as gay as a lark, crying like aScaramuccio:
“Whoop, pigs! here we are again!”
Hearing which, the dear children, understanding that he had come to life again, did indeed weep bitterly, so thatDi Tribaldo, had he stopped a little longer, might have been amazed. But he had no sooner gone out of his body than a great grim devil, a kind of detective demon, who was on the look-out for souls, whipped him up, gave him a couple of cuffs to keep him quiet, and, putting him into a game-bag, drawing the cords tight, and then rolling them round and tying them, flew off to give the prey up to the proper authorities, and what disposition they made of this precious piece of property I know not, nor truly do I much care. All that can be said is that ’twas a good riddance of bad rubbish, and that we may all rejoice that he comes no more into this story.
But what was the amazement of the well-nigh bereaved children when their solemn parent made a leap half-way to the ceiling, and then, while imitating with his mouth azufolo, or shepherd’s pipe, to perfection, began to dance with grace a wildcoranto, and anon sang:
“Chi ben vive, ben muore,Io lo credo in mio cuore;Oggi vivo, in figura,E doman in sepoltura,Ho scappato ben il orco,Morto io, morto il porco!”[23]“He who lives well may well depart,As I believe with all my heart.To-day alive, and all in bloom,To-morrow buried in the tomb;But I’ve escaped, and don’t care why!If I were dead the pig might die!The pig might die, the world be burned!And everything to ashes turned!”
“Chi ben vive, ben muore,Io lo credo in mio cuore;Oggi vivo, in figura,E doman in sepoltura,Ho scappato ben il orco,Morto io, morto il porco!”[23]
“He who lives well may well depart,As I believe with all my heart.To-day alive, and all in bloom,To-morrow buried in the tomb;But I’ve escaped, and don’t care why!If I were dead the pig might die!The pig might die, the world be burned!And everything to ashes turned!”
Which pious song being ended, he asked them why they were all staring at him like a party of stuck pigs, and bade them scamper and send out for a good supper, with flowers and wine; and on their asking what he would have, he replied, still singing:
“Everything to please the palate,Venison, woodcocks, larks, and sallet,Partridges both wild and tame,And every other kind of game,Buttered eggs and macaroni,Salmagundi, rice and honey,Mince-pies and oyster too,Lobster patties, veal ragoût,Beef, with mushrooms round the dish,And everything that heart could wish.”
“Everything to please the palate,Venison, woodcocks, larks, and sallet,Partridges both wild and tame,And every other kind of game,Buttered eggs and macaroni,Salmagundi, rice and honey,Mince-pies and oyster too,Lobster patties, veal ragoût,Beef, with mushrooms round the dish,And everything that heart could wish.”
Whereupon, being told by his eldest daughter, who was of opinion that he had gone mad, that such a supper would cost twenty crowns, he replied that it could not be done for the money, and that he should always expect such a meal every day, and a much better one when guests should come. Wherein he kept his word, and amazed them all by urging them to stuff and cram to their hearts’ desire, but especially by pressing them to drink; and whereas it had been of yore that they had been scolded like beasts if they so much as begged for a second glass of sour, half-watered wine, they were now jeered and jibed as duffers and sticks for not swigging off their bumpers of the best and strongest like men.
And they also noted a great change in this, that while the late Signore Tribaldo had ever been as severe in manner and conversation as any saint, and grim as an old owl, the Signore Balsàbo during the meal cracked one joke after the other, some of them none too seemly, and roared with laughter at their frightened looks. But as ’tis easy to teach young cats the way to the dairy, they began to slowly put out one paw after the other, and be of the opinion that on the whole their dear papa had been much improved by his death and revival. And some word having been said of games, he suddenly whipped out a pack of cards and proposed play. At which his eldest son replying that it would be but a thin game with them who had hardly aquattrinoapiece, Balsàbo sent for his strong-box, which was indeed well-lined, and gave them each a hundred crowns in gold, swearing it was a shame that such a magnificent family as his should go about like poor beggars, because handsome youth and beautiful girls needed fine clothes, and that in future they were all to spend what they liked—and bless the expense at that!—for as long as there was twopence in the locker, half of it should be theirs.
Then they sat down to play, and Gianni, the eldest son, and Bianca, the eldest daughter, who had aforetime learned to play a little on the sly, thought they would surely win.But Balsàbo in the end beat them all, and when they marvelled at his luck roared with laughter, and said ’twas no wonder, for he had cheated at every turn; and then, sitting down again, showed them how ’twas done, but bade them keep it all a family secret. “For thus,” said he, “we can among us cheat all the gamesters in Florence, and ever be as rich as so many Cardinals.”
And then he said to them, as in apology: “Ye have no doubt, my dear children, marvelled that I have this evening been somewhat strict and austere with you, which is not to be blamed, considering that I have been dead and am only just now alive again; but I trust that in future I shall be far more kind and indulgent, and lend you a helping hand in all your little games, whatever they be; for the only thing which can grieve me is that there shall be any fun or devilry going on, and I not have a hand in it. And as it is becoming that children should obey their parents, and have no secrets from them, I enjoin it strictly on you that whatever you may be up to, from swindling at pitch-and-toss, up to manslaughter or duels, ye do nothing without first taking counsel with me, because I, being more experienced in the ways of this wicked world, can best guard you against its deceptions. And so, my beloved infants, go in peace, which means go it while you are young, and as peacefully as you can, and merrily if you must!”
Now, the eldest son, Gianni, had longed well nigh to being ill, and even to tears, to wear fine clothes (in which Bianca and the others were well up with him), and have a gallant horse, like the other youths of his rank in Florence. But kind as Balsàbo had been to him, he hardly dared to broach the subject, when all at once his father introduced it by asking him why he went footing about like a pitiful beggar, instead of riding like a cavalier; and learning that it was because he had no steed, Balsàbo gave a long whistle and said:
“Well, you are a fool of forty-five degrees! Why the devil, if you thought I would not approve it, did you not buy a horse on post-obit credit, and ride him on the sly? However, ’tis never too late to mend. But such a goose as you would be certainly cheated in the buying. Come with me.”
And Gianni soon found that his saint of a father was well up to all the tricks of the horse trade, the end being that he had the best steed in Florence for half of what it would havecost him. And from this accomplished parent he also learned to ride and fence, and in the latter he taught his son so many sly passes and subtle tricks, crafty glissades andbotte, that he had not his master in all the land.
And now a strange thing came to pass: that as all these young people, though willing enough to be gay and well attired, were good at heart and honest, as they day by day found that their father, though really bad in nothing, had, on the other hand, no more conscience or virtue than an old shoe or a rag scarecrow, so it was they who began to sermonize him, even as the late Signore Tribaldo had lectured them, the tables being quite turned. But what was most marvellous was that Signore Balsàbo, far from taking any offence, seemed to find in this being scolded for his want of heart, morals, and other crimes, a deep and wondrous joy, a sweet delight, as of one who has discovered a new pleasure or great treasure. This was especially the case when he was brought to book, or hauled over the coals, by his daughter Bianca, who was gifted with the severe eloquence of her other father, which she now poured forth in floods on his successor.
Now, you may well imagine that an old devil-goblin who had been kicked and footed about the world for a thousand years between the back-kitchen of hell unto the inner courts of the Vatican, including all kinds of life, but especially the bad, thus having a family to support and beloved daughters and sons to blow him up, and, in fact, the mere having any decent Christian care enough for him to call him a soulless old blackguard, was like undreamed-of bliss. He had been in his time exorcised by priests in Latin through all that grammar and vocabulary could supply, and cursed in Etruscan, Greek, Lombard, and everything else; but the Italian of his daughter had in it the exquisite and novel charm that there was reallovemingled with it and gratitude for his profuse kindness and indulgence, so that ’twas to him like the pecking of an angry and dear canary bird, the which thing acted on him so strangely that he at times was fain to look about him for some stray sin to commit, in order to get a good sound scolding. For he had fallen so much into decent life and ways by living with his dear children that it often happened that he did nothing wrong for as much as three or four days together.
And truly it was a brave sight to see him, when reprimanded,cast down his eyes and sigh: “Yes, yes! ’tis too true:mea culpa!mea maxima culpa! It was indeed wicked!” when all the while he hardly knew where the sin was or wherein he had done wrong or right or anything else. Now, it may seem a strange thing that so old a sinner should ever come to grace; but as ye know that in old tombs raspberry or other seeds, hard and dry, a thousand years old, have been found which, however, grew when planted, so Balsàbo began to think and change, and try, even for curiosity’s sake, what being good meant.
Meanwhile it was a marvel to see how well—notwithstanding all the expenditure, to which there was no limit, save the consciences of the children—Balsàbo kept the treasury supplied. And this was to him a joke, as all life was, save, indeed, the children, in whom he began to take interest, or for whom he felt love; for, what with knowing where many an old treasure lay hidden, or the true value of many a cheap estate, and a hundred other devices and tricks, he ever gained so much that in time he gave great dowers to his daughters, and castles and lands, with titles, to his sons.
Now, it came to pass—and it was the greatest marvel of all—that Bianca, by her reproving and reforming Balsàbo, had her own heart turned to goodness, and gave herself up to good works and study and prayer; and unto her studies Balsàbo, curiously interested, gave great aid. Then she learned marvellously deep secrets of magic and spirits, but nothing evil; and it came to pass that in her books she found that there were beings born of the elements, creatures appointed to live a thousand years or more, and then pass away into air or fire, and exist no longer. Furthermore, she discovered that such wandering spirits sometimes took up their abode in human bodies, and that, being neither good nor bad, they were always wild and strange, given up of all things to quaint tricks and strange devices, as ready unto one thing as another.
And it came to her mind, as she noted how Balsàbo knew all languages, and spoke of things which took place ages before as if he had lived in them, and of men long dead as if he had known them, that he who was her father aforetime was ignorant of all this as he was of gentleness or kindness or good nature, all which Balsàbo carried to a fault, not caring to take the pains to injure his worst enemy or to do a good turn to his best friend, unless it amused him, in whichcase he would kill the one with as little sorrow as if he were a fly, and give the other a castle or a thousand crowns, and think no more of it than if he had fed a hawk or a hound. And all such good deeds he played off in some droll fashion, like tricks, as if thinking that sport, and nothing else, was the end and aim of all benevolence. However, as regarded Bianca and her brothers and sisters, he seemed to have other ideas, and to her he appeared to be as another being, in love and awe obeying her as a child and striving to understand her lessons.
So this went on for years, till at last one day Bianca, full of strange suspicions, which had become well nigh certainties, went to Virgilio and said:
“Tell me in truth who is this being whom thou didst send us as my father, for that he is not the Di Tribaldo of earlier days, I am sure. Good and kind he hath been, but too strange to be human; wild hart is he, not to be measured as a man.”
Virgil replied:
“Thou hast guessed the riddle, and yet not all; for he is a spirit of the elements, and his appointed time is drawing near to an end, and, being neither good nor evil, he would have passed away in peace into the nothing which is the end of all his kind. But thou hast awakened in him a knowledge of love and duty, so that he will die in sorrow, for he has learned from thee what he has lost.”
Then Bianca asked:
“Can he not be saved?”
And Virgil replied:
“If anyone would give his or her life, then by virtue of that sacrifice, when the thousand years of his existence shall be at an end, the two lives shall be as one in the world where all are one in love for ever.”
Bianca replied:
“That which I have begun I will finish. Having opened the bud, I will not leave the flower; having the flower, I will bring it to fruit and seed; the egg which I found and saved, I will hatch. She who hath said ‘A’ must also say ‘B,’ till all the letters are learned.
“‘Who such a course hath once begun,To the very end must run.’
“‘Who such a course hath once begun,To the very end must run.’
And so will I give my life to give a soul to this poor spirit, even as the Lord gave His to save mankind.”
Then Bianca departed, and many days passed. On a time Virgilio saw Balsàbo, who greeted him with a sad smile.
“My sand is well-nigh run out, oh master,” said the spirit. “Yet another day, and the sun which is to rise no more will go down behind the mountain-range of life.Il sole tramonta.”
“And art thou pleased to have been for a time a man?” asked Virgil.
“It was not an ill thing to be loved by the children,” replied Balsàbo. “There I had great joy and learned much—yea, far too much for my own happiness, for I found that I was lost. When I was ignorant, and only a poor child of air and earth, fire and water, I knew nothing of good or evil, or of a soul or a better life in eternity; now I have learned all that by love, and also that it is not for me.”
“Wait and see,” replied Virgilio. “He who has learned to love has made the first step to immortality.”
And after a few days, news was brought to Virgilio that Balsàbo, whom men called Di Tribaldo, was dying, and that Bianca also could not live long; and that night the master, looking from his tower beyond the Arno on the hill, that which is now called the San Gallo, or the Torre di Galileo, saw afar in the night a strange vision, the forms of a man and of a young woman, divinely beautiful, sweetly spiritual, in a golden, rosy light, ever rising higher and higher, while afar there was a sound as of harps and voices singing:
“They walked in the world as in a dream,For nothing they saw as it now doth seem;And all they knew of care and woeIs now but a tale of the long ago;And they will walk in the land on highWhere flowers are blooming ever and aye,And every flower in its breath and bloomSings in the spirit with song perfume,And the song which it sings in the land above,In a thousand forms, is eternal love.”
“They walked in the world as in a dream,For nothing they saw as it now doth seem;And all they knew of care and woeIs now but a tale of the long ago;And they will walk in the land on highWhere flowers are blooming ever and aye,And every flower in its breath and bloomSings in the spirit with song perfume,And the song which it sings in the land above,In a thousand forms, is eternal love.”
And as they rose Virgilio saw falling from them, as it were, a rain of rose-leaves and lilies, and every leaf as it fell faded, yet became a spirit which entered some newborn babe, and the spirit was its life.
“Sweetly hast thou sung, oh Spirit of God,” said Virgilio,as the last note was heard and the sight vanished. “The poorest devil may be saved by Love.”