"There was once in Florence a Podesta or chief magistrate named
Rubaconte, and he had been chosen in the year 1236, nor had he been long
in office when a man called Bagnai, because he kept a public bath, was
brought before him on the charge of murder.
"And Bagnai, telling his tale, said: 'This is the very truth--_ne favola
ne canzone di tavola_--for I was crossing the river on the little bridge
with a hand-rail by the Palazzo Mozzi, when there came riding over it a
company of gentlemen. And it befell that I was knocked over the bridge,
and fell on a man below who was washing his feet in the Arno, and lo! the
man was killed by my dropping on him.'
"Now to the Podesta this was neither eggs nor milk, as the saying is, and
he could at first no more conclude on it than if one had asked him, '_Chi
nacque prima--l'uovo o la gallina_?' 'Which was born first--the hen or
the egg?' For on one side the _bagnajolo_ was innocent, and on the other
the dead man's relations cried for vengeance. But after going from one
side of his brain to the other for five minutes, he saw 'from here to the
mountain,' and said:
"'Now I have listened to ye both, and this is a case where one must--
"'Non giudicar per legge ni per carte,
Se non ascolti l'un e l'altra parte.'
"'Judge not by law-books nor by chart,
But look with care to either part.'
"'And as it is said, "Berta must drink from her own bottle," so I decree
that the _bagnaio_ shall go and wash his feet in the Arno, sitting in the
same place, and that he who is the first of his accusers shall fall from
the bridge on his neck, and so kill him.'
"And truly this settled the question, and it was agreed that the Podesta
was _piu savio de gli statuti_--wiser even than the law itself.
"But then Rubaconte did an even wiser thing, for he determined to have a
new bridge built in place of the old one, and hence came the Ponte alle
Grazie, 'of which he himself laid the first foundation-stone, and carried
the first basket of mortar, with all due civic ceremony, in 1236.' {82}
"But as it is said, 'he who has drunk once will drink again,' it came to
pass that Bagnai had to appear once more as accused before the Podesta.
One day he met a man whose donkey had fallen and could not rise. 'Twas
on the Ponte Vecchio.
"The owner seized the donkey by the head, Bagnai caught him by the tail,
and pulled so hard that the tail came off!
"Then the contadino or _asinaio_ had Bagnai brought before the Podesta,
and claimed damages for his injured animal. And Rubaconte decided that
Bagnai should keep the ass in his stable, and feed him well--until the
tail had grown again.
"As may be supposed, the _asinaio_ preferred to keep his ass himself, and
go no farther in the case."
* * * * *
This ancient tale recalls that of Zito, the German magician conjuror,
whose leg was pulled off. It is pretty evident that the donkey's tail
had been glued on for the occasion.
I may here add something relative to the folk-lore of bridges, which is
not without interest. I once asked a witch in Florence if such a being
as a spirit of the water or one of bridges and streams existed; and she
replied:
"Yes, there is a spirit of the water as there is of fire, and everything
else. They are rarely seen, but you can make them appear. _How_? Oh,
easily enough, but you must remember that they are capricious, and appear
in many delusive forms. {83}
"And this is the way to see them. You must go at twilight and look over
a bridge, or it will do if it be in the daytime in the woods at a smooth
stream or a dark pool--_che sia un poco oscuro_--and pronounce the
incantation, and throw a handful or a few drops of its water into the
water itself. And then you must look long and patiently, always thinking
of it for several days, when, _poco a poco_, you will see dim shapes
passing by in the water, at first one or two, then more and more, and if
you remain quiet they will come in great numbers, and show you what you
want to know. But if you tell any one what you have seen, they will
never appear again, and it will be well for you should nothing worse
happen.
"There was a young man at Civitella in the Romagna Toscana, and he was in
great need of money. He had lost an uncle who was believed to have left
a treasure buried somewhere, but no one knew where it was. Now this
nephew was a reserved, solitary youth, always by himself in lone places,
among ruins or in the woods--_un poco streghon_--a bit of a wizard, and
he learned this secret of looking into streams or lakes, till at last,
whenever he pleased, he could see swarms of all kinds of figures sweeping
along in the water.
"And one evening he thus saw, as in a glass, the form of his uncle who
had died, and in surprise he called out 'Zio mio!'--'My uncle!' Then the
uncle stopped, and the youth said, 'Didst thou but know how I am
suffering from poverty!' When he at once beheld in the water his home
and the wood near it, and a path, and the form of his uncle passed along
the path to a lonely place where there was a great stone. Then the uncle
pointed to the stone and vanished. The next day the young man went
there, and under the stone he found a great bag of gold--and I hope that
the same may happen to all of us!
"'He who has sheep has wool in store;
He who has mills hath plenty of flour;
He who hath land hath these at call;
He who has money has got them all.'"
THE BASHFUL LOVER
A LEGEND OF THE CHIESA SANTA LUCIA IN THE VIA DE' BARDI
"She never told her love--oh no!
For she was mild and meek,
And his for her he dared not show,
Because he hadn't the cheek.
'Tis pity this should e'er be past,
For, to judge by what all men say,
'Twere best such difference should last
Unto our dying day."
All who have visited Florence have noticed the Church of Santa Lucia in
the Via de' Bardi, from the figure of the patron with two angels over the
door in Lucca della Robbia ware. Of this place of worship there is in a
jest-book a droll story, which the reader may recall when he enters the
building.
"A young Florentine once fell desperately in love with a beautiful
lady of unsullied character and ready wit, and so followed her about
wherever she went; but he being sadly lacking in wit and sense, at
all four corners, never got the nearer to her acquaintance, though he
told all his friends how irresistible he would be, and what a
conquest he would make, if he could only once get a chance to speak
to her. Yet as this lady prized ready wit and graceful address in a
man above all things, it will be seen that his chance was thin as a
strip of paper.
"But one _festa_ the lady went to the Church of Santa Lucia in the
Via dei Bardi, and one of the friends of the slow-witted one said to
him, 'Now is the lucky hour and blooming chance for you. Go up and
speak to her when she approaches the font to take holy water.'
"Now the lover had prepared a fine speech for the lady, which he had
indeed already rehearsed many times to his friends with great
applause; but when it came to utter it to the lady a great and awful
fear fell on him, the words vanished--vanished from his memory, and
he was dumb as a dead ass. Then his friend poking him in the ribs,
whispered in his ear, 'But say _something_, man, no matter what!'
"So with a gasp he brought out at last, 'Signora, I would fain be
your humble servant.'
"To which the lady, smiling, replied, 'Well, I have already in my
house plenty of humble servants, and indeed only too many to sweep
the rooms and wash the dishes, and there is really no place for
another. . . .'
"And the young man turned aside with sickness in his heart. His
wooing for that holiday was o'er."
This may be matched with the story of a bashful New England lover of the
olden time, for there are none such now-a-days:--
"I don't know how I ever got courage to do it; but one evening I went
courting Miss Almira Chapin.
"And when she came in, I sat for half-an-hour, and dared not say a
word. At last I made a desperate dash and got out, 'Things are
looking very green out of doors, Miss Almira.'
"And she answered, 'Seems to me they're looking a great deal greener
_in_ doors this evening.'
"That extinguished me, and I retreated. And when I was outside I
burst into tears."
LA FORTUNA
A LEGEND OF THE VIA DE' CERCHI
"One day Good Luck came to my home,
I begged of her to stay.
'There's no one loves you more than I,
Oh, rest with me for aye,'
'It may not be; it may not be,
I rest with no one long,' said she."
--"_Witch Ballads_," by C. G. LELAND.
The manner in which many of the gods in exile still live in Italy is very
fully illustrated by the following story:
"It is a hard thing sometimes now-a-days for a family to pass for noble
if they are poor, or only poor relations. But it was easy in the old
time, Signore Carlo, easy as drinking good Chianti. A signore had only
to put his shield with something carved on it over his window, and he was
all right. He was noble _senza dubbio_.
"Now the nobles had their own noble stories as to what these noble
pictures in stone meant, but the ignoble people often had another story
just as good. Coarse woollen cloth wears as well as silk. Now you may
see on an old palazzo in the Via de' Cerchi, and indeed in several other
places, a shield with three rings. But people call them three wheels.
And this is the story about the three wheels."