“STRANGE, lingering echoes of the old demon-worship might perhaps
be even now caught by the diligent listener among the grey-haired
peasantry,” says George Eliot, speaking of the Midland Counties of
England. Stranger yet, perhaps, is the survival of the old pagan
spirit, the haunting echo of old pagan legend, which any visitor to the
hills of Tuscany may verify. Let him join the peasants as they meet now
in one house, now in another, to spend the long winter evenings round
the fire; or let him stroll, in the early autumn, into some low, dark
kitchen where neighbours sit among piles of chestnut twigs, busily
stripping off the leaves and making them into bundles for winter use in
the baking of chestnut cakes (_necci_). There, among _stornelli_ and
_rispetti_, he may well chance upon some such shrewd, quaint tale as
the following:—
* * * * *
Once upon a time there was a man called Padre Ulivo. He was always
cheerful, always singing, and very fond of good company. He had a
barrel of wine in the cellar, and every evening his friends used to
come and see him, sit round the fire, eat, drink, sing, and lead a
merry life. But at last the barrel was empty, and all his provisions
run out, so that he had nothing more to offer to those who came, and
all his pleasant evenings were at an end. Now everyone avoided him, and
his cottage grew dull and lonely. One night he had just enough flour
left for one small cake.
“Well,” said he, “I’ll make a little _schiacciata_ this evening, bake
it in the ashes, and to-morrow I must take what God sends.”
So he made the _schiacciata_, ate half of it, and got into bed. He had
not been there long before he heard a knock at the door.
“Who’s there?” he called out.
“Padre Ulivo,” said a voice from outside, “we want to come in and warm
ourselves at your fire; open the door to us.”
So Padre Ulivo jumped out of bed, opened the door, and there were
twelve men outside.
“Wait a minute while I put on my trousers,” said he, for he was in his
shirt.
“Now, Padre Ulivo,” said one of the men, “we want something to eat.”
“Something to eat! How can I give you that when I have nothing in the
house! I made a little _schiacciata_ of my last flour this evening.
Look, here’s the bit I’ve not eaten.”
“No, no; you must give us something to eat—we’re hungry.”
“But, indeed, I don’t do it to deceive you. I have nothing; absolutely
nothing.”
“Go and look again in the cupboard.”
“But what’s the good? It’s empty. Do you believe that I want to deceive
you?”
“Go and look, at all events.”
So Padre Ulivo opened the cupboard, and found it quite full of meat and
bread, and everything nice. Quite full! and of such good things as he
had never hoped to have.
“Oh!” said he, “don’t think I was deceiving you; there really was
nothing there last time I went to it.”
So he laid the table and they began to eat.
“But we want wine,” said the man; “go to the cellar and get some.”
“I have none,” said Padre Ulivo; “I used up all mine some time ago.”
“Go and see.”
“But it’s no good; my barrel is quite empty. Indeed it is not because I
am greedy. I have none left.”
“Go and see. We’ll come too.”
So they all went down to the cellar.
“You see,” said Padre Ulivo, tapping the barrel. “Listen how hollow it
sounds!”
“Draw out the spigot.”
He did so, and immediately there spurted out such a stream of wine as
knocked him right against the opposite wall.
“Oh, oh!” said he. “I swear it was empty last time I came here.”
Then he filled a big jug, and they all went upstairs and made a good
supper.
“Now we want to sleep here,” said the men.
“But I have only one bed,” answered Padre Ulivo; “and there are
thirteen of us! I know what I’ll do, though; I’ll put the mattress on
the floor, and we must manage the best way we can.”
So he put the mattress on the floor, spread sheets on it, and they
slept comfortably, some on the mattress and some on the bed.
The next morning the men went away, and Padre Ulivo accompanied them
for some little distance on their journey, walking behind with one who
was especially friendly.
“The one in front,” said this man, “the most important of us all, is
Dominiddio[2] himself. Go and ask him a favour.”
So Padre Ulivo ran on, and threw himself on his knees in the road.
“What do you want?” said Dominiddio. “I will grant you whatever you ask
for.”
“I want that anyone who sits down on my chair may be unable to rise
without my permission.”
“Be it so.”
And Padre Ulivo returned to his companion.
“Have you asked a favour?”
“Yes, and it’s granted.”
“What did you ask?”
Padre Ulivo told him.
“Oh, you stupid man! But go and ask another favour quickly. And mind
it’s something great, and something really for yourself. Remember you
are speaking to Dominiddio.”
Padre Ulivo ran on again and knelt down.
“What do you want this time? You shall have it.”
“Let anyone who gets up into my fig-tree be unable to come down without
my permission.”
“Very well; it shall be so.”
And Padre Ulivo came back leaping for joy.
“Well, and what did you ask for?”
Padre Ulivo told him.
“Oh, you fool! Go again, you will get one more favour; but mind you ask
for something really good for yourself.”
He wanted him to ask to go to Paradise.
“Again!” said Dominiddio, when he saw Padre Ulivo in the dust before
him. “Well, this is the last time. What do you want?”
“Let me always win at cards, no matter whom I may be playing with.”
“Be it so. And now no more.”
Padre Ulivo came back to his companion singing for joy.
“What have you asked for this time? Something really great?”
“Oh, yes,” said Padre Ulivo, and told him.
“Well, you’ve lost your chance now. Good-bye.”
With that he left him and Padre Ulivo went home.
Now his jolly times began again. His barrel of wine never ran dry, and
his cupboard never grew empty. Everybody came to see him. They ate,
drank, and led a merry life.
* * * * *
But Padre Ulivo grew old; and one day Death came to him.
“Oh, how do you do?” said Padre Ulivo. “You want me, do you? Well, I
was just beginning to fear you had forgotten me, and to wonder where
you could be. Sit down and take a rest, and then I’ll come with you.”
So Death sat down on the chair in the chimney-corner, while Padre Ulivo
piled on wood and made a splendid blaze.
“Now we must go,” said Death, when he was warm. “Oh, oh! what’s this?”
For when he tried to get up the chair stuck to him and he could not
move. “Oh, oh!” And he pulled at the chair that seemed glued firmly to
him. “Padre Ulivo, let me go! I have to go for the carpenter’s daughter
before sundown. Oh, oh! I can’t get up. You’ve bewitched me.”
“Promise not to come back for a hundred years, and you shall go free.”
“A hundred! A hundred and one, if you like! Only take the spell off.”
So Padre Ulivo gave him permission to rise, and Death went away.
* * * * *
Things went on as usual for the hundred years, with feasting and
merry-making. But at last, as Padre Ulivo was among his friends, Death
appeared again.
“Yes, yes, I’m ready. But let us have a feast of figs first. See
what splendid fruit there! I and my friends had as much as we wanted
yesterday, it’s your turn to-day. Go up and help yourself; I am too old
to climb.”
So Death went up the tree and picked and ate to his heart’s content.
“Now we must go,” said he. “Hullo! I can’t get down. Oh, Padre Ulivo,
you’ve bewitched me again!” And he stretched out now an arm, now a leg,
and twisted and turned; but it was all of no good, and the others stood
below laughing at him.
“Oh, Padre Ulivo! I’ll leave you another hundred years, if you’ll only
let me get down.”
“Very well; then you may come.”
So Death climbed down and went away.
* * * * *
When the hundred years were passed, he came and stood outside the
cottage.
“Padre Ulivo, Padre Ulivo, come out! I shan’t come near your house
this time. I don’t want to be tricked again.”
“Oh, no, I’m coming. Wait till I get my jacket.”
So he put on his coat and went with Death.
On the way they met the Devil.
“Ah, good morning, Padre Ulivo” (one can see they knew each other very
well), “so you’re coming my way, are you?”
“To be sure I am. But let’s have a game at cards first.”
“By all means! What shall we play for?”
“For souls. A soul for every game.”
“Good! I’m not afraid. Nobody ever beat the Devil yet at cards.”
So they began, and Padre Ulivo won game after game.
The Devil got very angry and spit flames of fire from sheer rage, as he
saw the crowd of souls collecting round Padre Ulivo.
“This will never do,” he said at last. “I shall have no fire left to
warm myself at if I go on losing my fuel at this rate. Padre Ulivo,
take your souls and be off. I have had enough of you.”
They left the Devil boiling over with fury, and went and knocked at the
gate of Heaven.
“Who’s there?”
“Padre Ulivo.”
“I’ll go and ask if you may come in.” Then, after a little time:
“Dominiddio says you may come in, if you’re alone; but you must not
bring anyone else.”
“Go and tell Dominiddio that when he came to me I let him in with all
his friends. He ought to do the same by me.”
The porter took the message, and then came and opened the gates.
“Dominiddio says you may all come in together.”
So they threw themselves down in the armchairs of Paradise, and enjoyed
themselves for ever.
* * * * *
Surely a tale of this kind is an eloquent commentary on the mind
of the people who have preserved it. The shrewd cunning, the frank
materialism, the lavish generosity, so long as there is anything to be
generous with (“since it’s there,” they will say as they offer or use
the last of their store), are all strongly marked features among these
peasants.
At the same time, the story itself suggests a curious feeling that
we have to do with Jupiter and Mercury transformed in the crucible
of Christian history and Catholic dogma. The transformation is an
instructive one in many ways, and it would be interesting to know
whether it has taken place in any other country besides Italy.