“Thus playing sweetly on the flageolet,
He charmed them all; and playing yet again,
Led them away, won by the magic sound.”
_De Pueris Hamleënsibus_, 1400.
There is in the Toscana Romagna a place known as La Valle della Fame, or
Valley of Hunger, in which dwelt a family of peasants, or three brothers
and two sisters. The elder brother had married a wife who was good and
beautiful, and she had given birth to a daughter, but died when the babe
was only one year old. Then, according to the advice of the sisters and
brothers, he married again, that he might have someone to take care of
his child. The second wife was a pretty young woman, but after she had
been wedded a year she gave birth to a daughter, who was very ugly indeed
and evil; but the mother seemed to love her all the more for this, and
began to hate the elder, who was as good and beautiful as an angel. And
as her hatred grew she beat and abused the poor little girl all day long.
One morning the latter went into the woods to hide herself from her
stepmother till it should be evening, when she could return home and be
safe with her father and aunts. And while sitting all alone beneath a
tree, she heard a bird above her singing so sweetly that she felt
enchanted. It was a marvellous sound, at times like the music of a flute
played by a fairy, then like a human voice carolling in soft tones, and
then like a horn echoing far away. The little girl said:
“Oh dear, sweet bird, I wish I could pipe and play like you!”
As she said this the bird fell from the tree, and when she picked it up
she found that it was a _zufolo_, or shepherd’s flageolet, in the form of
a bird. And when she blew on it, it gave forth such sweet sounds—_suone
belle da rimanere incantati_—as would charm all who heard them. And as
she practised, she found the art to play it seemed to come of itself, and
every now and then she could hear a fairy voice in the sound speaking to
her.
Now, this was a miracle which had been wrought by Virgil the magician,
who did so many wonderful things in the olden time.
In the evening she returned home and played on the bird-pipe, and all
were charmed except the stepmother, who alone heard in the music a voice
which said:
“Though sweet thy smile, and smooth thy brow,
Evil and cold at heart art thou;
I never yet did harm to thee,
Yet thou hast beat me cruelly,
And given me curses fierce and wild
Because I’m fairer than thy child.
Unless thou lettest me alone
Henceforth, all ill shall be thine own,
With all the suffering I have known.”
But to the girl the pipe sang:
“Sing to thy father, gently say
That thou the morrow goest away,
And tell him thou hast borne too long
Great cruelty and cruel wrong;
For truly he was much to blame
That he so long allowed the same;
But now the evil spell is broken,
The time has come, the word is spoken!”
Then her father would fain have kept her, but the spell was on her, and
she went out into the wide world playing on her pipe. And when she was
in the woods, the birds and wild beasts came and listened to her and did
as she bade; and when she was in towns, the people gathered round and
were charmed to hear her play, and gave her money and often jewels, and
no one dared to say an evil word to her, for a spell was on her, and a
charm which kept away evil.
So years passed by, and she was blooming into maidenhood, when one day a
young lord, passing with his mother, who was a woman as noble of soul and
good as her son, paused to hear the girl play on her pipe and sing, for
they thought the marvellous song of the _zufolo_ was her voice.
Then the lady asked the girl if she would enter a monastery, where she
would be educated and brought up to live in a noble family in return for
her music. The girl replied that she had already a great deal of money
and many jewels, but that she would be very glad to be better educated
and advanced in life. So she entered the convent, where she was very
happy, and the end thereof was that she became betrothed to the young
signore, and great preparations were made for the wedding.
Now, the stepmother had but one idea in life, which was that her own
daughter should make some great match, and for this purpose she was glad
when the second went away, as she hoped, to become a mere vagabond,
playing the flute for a living. But when she heard that the girl was
very prosperous in a convent in Florence, and had not only been educated
like a princess in the best society, but would ere long marry a nobleman,
she became mad with rage; and going to a witch, she paid her a great sum
to prepare a powder which, if strewed in the path of the bride, would
cause her prompt and agonizing pain, and after a time death in the most
dreadful suffering. And this was to be laid in the way of the wedding
procession. But on that morning the pipe sang:
“Where’er on earth the wind doth blow,
All leaves and dust before it go.
Evil or good, they fly away
Before its breath, as if in play;
And so shall it for thee this day,
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
And death to the witch, for so it must
Ever happen as ’twas decreed,
For death is the pay for an evil deed!”
Now, the bridegroom and all friends had begged the bride to play the
flute as she walked in the wedding procession, and she did so, and it
seemed to her that it had never played so sweetly. The stepmother was
looking on anxiously in the crowd, and when the bride was just coming to
the powder in the way, the wicked woman cried:
“Play louder—_louder_!”
The bride, to oblige everyone, blew hard, and a wind came from the pipe
which blew all the powder into the stepmother’s eyes and open mouth, and
in an instant she gave a cry of agony, and then rolled on the ground,
screaming:
“_Il polvore_! I have swallowed the powder!”
And the flute played:
“By thy mother I was slain;
A fairy gave me life again.
I was killed for jealousy,
And all as false as false could be.
Now thou art dead and I am free.”
And from that time the pipe played no more. But the young lady married
the signore, and all went well with them.
And this was done by Virgil, who was ever benevolent.
* * * * *
The pipe, flute, or whistle, which fascinates all who hear it, is to be
found in the traditions of all races, from the story of Orpheus onward;
it even forms the plot of what is one of the prettiest tales of the
Algonkin Indians, {126} and one which is probably original with them.
What is also common to many is the conception of the one unjustly put to
death turned into a musical instrument, which by a song betrays the
murderer. But what is peculiar to this story is the power of the pipe to
blow away enchantment and dissipate the witch-dust laid in the path.
This is a very ingenious addition to the conception of the music and
voice.
It is to be observed that sometimes rustic performers on the pipe, who
have chiefly learned their music in the woods from birds and Nature,
sometimes attain to a very fascinating and singular execution, quite
unlike that which is heard from the most cultivated and artistic
musicians. The celebrated Dr. Justinus Kerner, whom I have heard play,
could produce on the Jew’s-harp such results as would be deemed
incredible. It struck me as an extraordinary expression of will and
character beyond all teaching or imitation.
There are also many learned writers on music who are not aware that the
human throat or voice is capable of producing sounds which are not, so to
speak, _vocal_, but like those of the musical-box and several
wind-instruments. This accomplishment is common among the blacks of the
Southern States, and the performances, as I can bear witness, are most
extraordinary and amazing. I once mistook the playing of two coloured
boys in Nashville for the sound of a somewhat distant hand-organ. Even
the twang of the banjo is thus rendered with startling accuracy. It is
also true that reed-pipes can be made which, by combining the voice and
blowing (as with the _mirliton_), give results which are very little
known, but which probably suggested this and other tales in which the
flute or pipe speaks. There are not many people who know the bull-roarer
save as a boy’s toy—that is to say, a mere flat bit of wood whirled round
at the end of a cord—but by modification and combination, this or several
of them produce sounds like those of an organ; and when heard by night at
a distance, the effect is such as to fairly awe those who are ignorant of
its cause. Finally, there is the application by a tube of air to the
Æolian harp, etc., so as to produce tunes, which is very remarkable, and
as little known as the rest—albeit, a traveller, who found something of
the kind among the heathen, avowed his belief that something might be
made of it. If people would only find out what resources they all have
within themselves, or in very cheap and easily-made instruments, there
might be far more music or art in the world than there now is. On which
subject the reader may consult a book, written by me, and entitled “The
Cheapest Musical Instruments,” etc., now being published by Whittaker and
Co., 2, White Hart Street, London.