“Et fist une mousche d’arain,
De quoi encor le pris et ain.
A Naples cele mousche mist
Et de tel maniere la fist,
Que tant com la mousche fu la
Mousche dedenz Naples n’entra,
Mais je ne sai que puis devint,
La mousche, ne qu’il en avint.”
ADENÈS LI ROIS: _Roman de Cleomadès_. _XIIIth Century_.
“There were at that time near the city many swamps, in consequence of
which were swarms of _flies_, which caused death. And VIRGIL . . .
made a fly of gold, as large as a frog, by virtue of which all the
flies left the city.”—_La Cronaca di Partenope_, 1350.
“Trovasi chi egli fece una moscha di rame, che dove la posa niuna
moscha apariva mai presso a due saettate che incontanente non
morissi.”
ANTONIO PUCCI, _XIVth Century_.
Once there came to the Emperor a merchant with many gems and jewels, and
begged him to purchase some.
The Emperor asked of Virgil, who was present:
“Which is the very best of all these stones?”
Virgil replied:
“Let them all remain for a time in the light of the sun, and I will tell
you which is the gem of them all.”
This was done, and after a time a fly alighted on one.
“This is the gem of greatest value,” said Virgil.
“But it is really hardly worth a crown,” replied the merchant.
“And yet it is worth all the rest put together,” answered Virgil; “for it
increases marvellously the intellect or understanding, and thereby one
can win with it the love of whom he will.”
“Very well,” said the Emperor, “I will buy it, and find by experience
whether it can increase wit whereby we gain hearts.”
He did so, and finding that the stone had the virtue which Virgil
ascribed to it, said to the sage one day:
“How was it that thou didst find out and understand the value of that
gem?”
“I knew it, because I saw that there was in the stone a very small fly
(_moschettina_—gnat), and I knew that flies are very quick and gay, and
have great cleverness, as anyone can see if he tries to catch them, and
they make love all the time.”
“Truly thou art a devil, oh Virgil,” replied the Emperor; “and for reward
I hereby make thee Emperor or Pope over all the flies. There are, by the
way, far too many of them, and a perfect plague—they spoil all the meat
in the shops. I would that thou couldst banish all thy subjects from
Rome.”
“I will do it,” answered Virgil.
Then, by his magic, he summoned the Great Fly—Il Moscone, the King of all
the Flies—and said to him:
“Thy subjects are far too many, and a sore plague to all mankind. I
desire that thou wilt drive them all out of Rome.”
“I will do it,” replied the Moscone, “if thou wilt make a fly of gold as
large as a great frog, and put it in my honour in the Church of Saint
Peter. After which, there will no more flies be seen in Rome.”
Then Virgil went to the Emperor and told him what Il Moscone had said,
and the Emperor commanded that the fly should be made of many pounds of
gold, and it was placed in the Church of Saint Peter, and so long as it
remained there no fly was ever seen within the walls of Rome.
* * * * *
I have another version of what is partially the same story, but with a
curious addition, which is of greater antiquity and most unconsciously
really Virgilian, or the old tale of the bull’s hide.