"There was a very old Florentine family which lived in a castle in the
country. The elder or head of this family had always one room in which
no one was ever allowed to enter. There he passed hours alone every day,
and woe to any one who dared disturb him while there. And this had been
the case for generations, and no one had ever found out what the secret
was. This was, of course, a great vexation to the ladies of the
family--_perche la donna e sempre churiosa_--women being always
inquisitive.
"And most inquisitive of all was a niece of the old man, who had got it
into her head that the secret was simply a great treasure which she might
obtain. Therefore she resolved to consult with a certain witch, who
would tell her what it was, and how she could enter the mysterious room.
This sorceress lived hard by the Porta alla Croce, for there are always
many witches in that quarter.
"The witch, who was a very large tall woman, made the niece go with her
to an isolated small house, and thence along a path, the lady in advance.
While so doing, the latter turned her head to look behind her, and at
that instant heard the cry of a _civetta_ or small owl. The witch
exclaimed, 'My dear lady, what you wish for will hardly be granted; I
fear there is a great disaster awaiting you.'
"Then they went into a field, and the fortune-teller produced a goblet of
coloured glass, and called to the swallow, which is a bird of good omen,
and to the small owl, which forebodes evil, and said, 'Whichever shall
alight first on the edge of this cup will be a sign to you of success or
failure.'
"But the first which came and sat upon the cup was the owl.
"Then the witch said, 'What there is in that room I cannot reveal, for it
disturbs my soul far too much. But I know that the number of that room
is thirteen, and you can infer for yourself what that portends; and more
I cannot tell you, save that you should be extremely careful and keep a
cheerful heart--otherwise there is great trouble awaiting you.'
"But the lady returned home in a great rage at her disappointment, and
all the more resolved to enter the room. Then all the family finding
this out, reproached her, and urged her not to be so distracted; and she,
being obstinate, only became the more determined; for she was furious
that she could not force an old man to reveal a secret which had been
handed down for many generations, and which could only be confided to
one, or to the eldest, when the old man should die.
"And at last her evil will or mania attained such command over her, that
she resolved to kill all the family one by one, till the succession of
the secret should come to her. And so, after boiling deadly herbs with
care, she made a strong subtle poison. And by this means she put to
death her parents, brothers and sisters, aunts and all the family,
without remorse, so resolved was she to master the secret.
"The last to perish was her grandfather, and calling her to his bedside
he said, 'We have all died by thy hand; we who never did thee any harm;
and thou hast felt no remorse. This thou didst to gain a treasure, and
bitterly wilt thou be disappointed. Thy punishment will begin when thou
shalt learn what the thing was so long hidden: truly there was sorrow
enough therein, without the misery which thou hast added to it. That
which thou wilt find in the chamber is a skull--the skull of our earliest
ancestor, which must always be given to the care of the eldest
descendant, and I now give it to thee. And this thou must do. Go every
morning at seven o clock into the room and close the windows. Then light
four candles before the skull. In front of it there lies a great book in
which is written the history of all our family, my life and thine; and
see that thou do this with care, or woe be unto thee!'
"Therewith the old man died, and scarcely had he departed ere she called
an old woman who was allied and devoted to the family, and in a rage told
her all the secret. The old woman reproved her, saying that she would
bring punishment on herself. But, without heeding this, the lady ran to
the chamber, entered, and seeing the skull, gave it a kick and hurled it
from the window, far below.
"But a minute after she heard a rattling sound, and looking at the
window, there the skull was grinning at her. Again she threw it down,
and again it returned, and was with her wherever she went; day after day,
waking or sleeping, the skull was always before her eyes.
"At last fear came over her, and then horror, and she said to the old
woman, 'Let us go to some place far, far away, and bury the skull.
Perhaps it will rest in its grave.' The old woman tried to dissuade her,
and they went to a lonely spot at a great distance, and there they dug
long and deep.
"Dug till a great hole was made, and the lady standing on the edge
dropped the skull into it. Then the hole spread into a great pit, flame
rose from it--the edge crumbled away--the guilty woman fell into the
fire, and the earth closed over it all, and there was no trace left of
her.
"The skull returned to the castle and to its room; people say it is there
to this day. The old woman returned too, and being the last remote
relation, entered into possession of the property."
* * * * *
There is perhaps not one well-educated person in society in England who
has not had the opportunity to remark how very much any old family can
succeed in being notorious if it can only once make it known that it has
an hereditary _secret_. Novels will be written on it, every member of it
will be pointed out everywhere, and people who do not know the name of a
sovereign in Europe can tell you all about it and them. And the number
is not small of those who consider themselves immensely greater because
they have in some way mastered something which they are expected to keep
concealed. I could almost believe that this "'orrible tale" was composed
as a satire on family secrets. But I believe that she who told it firmly
believed it. _Credo quia absurdum_ would not be well understood among
humble folk in Italy.
* * * * *
"To this I may add," writes Flaxius, "that there is an English legend of
a certain skull which always returned to a certain window in a tower.
_Apropos_ of which there is a poem called _The Student and the Head_ in
'Hans Breitmann in Germany' (London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1895), prefaced by
a remark to the effect that the subject is so extensive as to deserve a
book--instancing the head of the physician Douban in the 'Arabian
Nights,' with that of Orpheus, which spoke to Cyrus, and that of the
priest of Jupiter, and another described by Trallianus, and the
marvellously preserved head of a saint in Olaf Tryggvason's Saga, and the
Witch's Head of Rider Haggard, with many more, not to speak of the
talking Teraphim heads, and Friar Bacon's bust. With which a thoroughly
exhaustive list should include the _caput mortuum_ of the alchemists
"'And the dead-heads of the Press.'"