STORIES OF ORIENTAL ORIGIN.
The geographical situation of Italy and its commercial connections
during the Middle Ages would lead us to expect a large foreign element
in its popular tales. This foreign element, it is hardly necessary to
say, is almost exclusively Oriental, and was introduced either by direct
communication with the East, or indirectly from France, which received
it from Spain, whither it was brought by the Saracens. Although this
Oriental element is now perfectly popular, it is, as far as its origin
is concerned, purely literary. That is to say, the stories we are about
to examine are to be found in the great Oriental collections of tales
which were early translated into all the languages of Europe, and either
passed directly from these translations into circulation among the
people, or became familiar to them from the novelists who made such
frequent use of this element.[1] A few stories may have been taken from
the French _fabliaux_ or from the French translations of the _Disciplina
Clericalis_, as we shall afterwards see.[2] The Pentamerone, and
especially Straparola's tales, may finally be mentioned as the source
from which many Oriental stories have flowed into popular
circulation.[3] In this chapter it is proposed to notice briefly only
those stories the Oriental origin of which is undoubted, and which may
be found in the great collections above mentioned and in some others
less known. For convenience, some stories of this class have been
referred to chapter VI.
The first of this class which we shall mention is well known from the
version in Lafontaine (IX. 1), _Le Depositaire infidele_. The only
Italian version we have found is Pitre, No. 194, which is as follows:
XXXVII. THE PEASANT AND THE MASTER.
A peasant one day, conversing in the farmhouse with his master and
others, happened, while speaking of sheep and cheese, to say that he had
had a present of a little cheese, but the mice had eaten it all up. Then
the master, who was rich, proud, and fat, called him a fool, and said
that it was not possible that the mice could have eaten the cheese, and
all present said the master was right and the peasant wrong. What more
could the poor man say? Talk makes talk. After a while the master said
that having taken the precaution to rub with oil his ploughshares to
keep them from rusting, the mice had eaten off all the points. Then the
friend of the cheese broke forth: "But, master, how can it be that the
mice cannot eat my cheese, if they can eat the points of your
ploughshares?" But the master and all the others began to cry out: "Be
silent, you fool! Be silent, you fool! the master is right!"[4]
* * * * *
The above story really belongs to the class of fables of which there are
but few of Oriental origin in the Italian collections.[5] The following
version of one of the most famous of the Eastern apologues is from
Monferrato (Comparetti, No. 67). It is called:
XXXVIII. THE INGRATES.
There was once a man who went into the forest to gather wood, and saw a
snake crushed under a large stone. He raised the stone a little with the
handle of his axe and the snake crawled out. When it was at liberty it
said to the man: "I am going to eat you." The man answered: "Softly;
first let us hear the judgment of some one, and if I am condemned, then
you shall eat me." The first one they met was a horse as thin as a
stick, tied to an oak-tree. He had eaten the leaves as far as he could
reach, for he was famished. The snake said to him: "Is it right for me
to eat this man who has saved my life?" The nag answered: "More than
right. Just look at me! I was one of the finest horses. I have carried
my master so many years, and what have I gained? Now that I am so badly
off that I can no longer work they have tied me to this oak, and after I
have eaten these few leaves I shall die of hunger. Eat the man, then;
for he who does good is ill rewarded, and he who does evil must be well
rewarded. Eat him, for you will be doing a good day's work." They
afterwards happened to find a mulberry-tree, all holes, for it was eaten
by old age; and the snake asked it if it was right to eat the man who
had saved its life. "Yes," the tree answered at once, "for I have given
my master so many leaves that he has raised from them the finest
silk-worms in the world; now that I can no longer stand upright, he has
said that he is going to throw me into the fire. Eat him, then, for you
will do well." Afterwards they met the fox. The man took her aside and
begged her to pronounce in his favor. The fox said: "The better to
render judgment I must see just how the matter has happened." They all
returned to the spot and arranged matters as they were at first; but as
soon as the man saw the snake under the stone he cried out: "Where you
are, there I will leave you." And there the snake remained. The fox
wished in payment a bag of hens, and the man promised them to her for
the next morning. The fox went there in the morning, and when the man
saw her he put some dogs in the bag, and told the fox not to eat the
hens close by, for fear the mistress of the house would hear it. So the
fox did not open the bag until she had reached a distant valley; then
the dogs came out and ate her; and so it is in the world; for who does
good is ill rewarded and who does evil is well rewarded.[6]
* * * * *
It would be surprising if we did not find the fascinating stories of the
Thousand and One Nights naturalized among the people. It is, of course,
impossible to tell whether they were communicated to the people directly
from a literary source, or whether the separate stories came to Italy
from the Orient by way of oral transmission.[7] These stories have
circulated among the people long enough to be treated as their own
property and changed to suit their taste. Incidents from other stories
have been added and the original story remodelled until it is hardly
recognizable. The story of "Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp," for
instance, is found from Sicily to Lombardy; but in no one version are
all the features of the original story preserved. In one of the Sicilian
versions (Messina) Aladdin does not lose his lamp; in another (Palermo),
after Aladdin has lost his lamp he goes in search of it, and on his
journey settles the quarrel of an ant, an eagle, and a lion, who give
him the power to transform himself into any one of them. He finally
discovers the magician, who has his life elsewhere than in his own body,
and who is killed after the usual complicated process. In the Roman
version the point of the unfinished window in Aladdin's palace is
missed, the magician requires to be killed, as in the version from
Palermo, and there are some additional incidents not in the Oriental
original. In the Mantuan story, instead of a lamp we have a rusty ring,
which the youngest brother finds inside of a dead cock bequeathed to
three brothers by their father. After the ring has fallen into the
possession of the magician and the palace has disappeared, the hero goes
in search of his wife and ring. On his way he is assisted by the "King
of the Fishes" and the "King of the Birds." The eagle carries a letter
to the captive princess, who obtains the ring from the magician, rubs it
on a stone, and when it asks what she wishes, answers: "I wish this
palace to return where it first was and the magician to be drowned in
the sea."[8]
Of almost equal popularity is the story of the "Forty Thieves," who are,
however, in the Italian versions, reduced to thirteen, twelve, or six in
number. The versions in Pitre (No. 23 and variants) contain but one
incident of the original story, where the robbers are detected in the
oil-jars, and killed by pouring boiling oil over them. In one of Pitre's
versions the robbers are hidden in sacks of charcoal, and the cunning
daughter pierces the bags with a red-hot spit. In another, they are
hidden in oil-skins, and sold to the abbess of a certain convent for
oil. One of the nuns has some suspicion of the trick, and invites her
companions to tap the skins with red-hot irons. Another Sicilian version
(Gonz. No. 79, "The Story of the Twelve Robbers") contains the first
part of the Arabian tale, the robbers' cave which opens and closes by
the words, "Open, door!" and "Shut, door!" The story ends with the death
of one of the brothers, who entered the cave and was killed by one of
the robbers who had remained. It is only in the version from Mantua
(Visentini, No. 7, "The Cunning Maid") that we find the story complete;
boiling water is used instead of oil in killing the thieves, and the
servant girl afterwards kills the captain, who had escaped before. The
story of the "Third Calendar" is told in detail in Comparetti (No. 65,
"The Son of the King of France") and the "Two Envious Sisters" furnishes
details for a number of distinct stories.[9] The story of "The
Hunchback" is found in Pitre and Straparola, and as it is also the
subject of an Old-French _fabliau_, it may have been borrowed from the
French, or, what is more likely, both French and Italians took it from a
common source.[10] The fable of "The Ass, the Ox, and the Peasant,"
which the Vizier relates to prevent his daughter becoming the Sultan's
wife, is found in Pitre (No. 282) under the title of "The Curious Wife,"
and is also in Straparola.[11] The beautiful story of "Prince Ahmed and
the fairy Peribanu" is found in Nerucci, No. 40, "The Three Presents, or
the Story of the Carpets." The three presents are the magic telescope
that sees any distance, the carpet that carries one through the air, and
the magic grapes that bring to life. The Italian version follows closely
the Oriental original. The same may be said of another story in the same
collection, No. 48, "The Traveller from Turin," which is nothing but
Sindbad's "Fourth Voyage."[12] The last story taken from the Arabian
Nights which we shall mention is that of "The Second Royal Mendicant,"
found in Comparetti (No. 63, "My Happiness") from the Basilicata, and in
the collection of Mantuan stories. The latter (No. 8) is entitled:
"There is no longer any Devil." The magician is the devil, and the
story concludes, after the transformations in which the peasant's son
kills the devil in the shape of a hen, with the words: "And this is the
reason why there is no longer any devil."[13]
The first collection of Oriental tales known in Europe as a collection
was the _Disciplina Clericalis_, that is, Instruction or Teaching for
Clerks or Clergymen. It was the work of a converted Spanish Jew, Petrus
Alphonsi, and was composed before 1106, the date of the baptism of the
author, the time and place of whose death are not known. The _Disciplina
Clericalis_ was early translated into French prose and poetry, and was
the storehouse from which all subsequent story-tellers drew abundant
material.[14] Precisely how the _Disciplina Clericalis_ became known in
Italy we cannot tell; but the separate stories must have become popular
and diffused by word of mouth at a very early date. One of the stories
of this collection is found in Italian literature as early as the _Cento
Novelle Antiche_.[15] Four of the stories in the _Disciplina Clericalis_
are found in Pitre and other collections of popular tales, and although
belonging, with one exception, to the class of jests, they are mentioned
here for the sake of completeness.
In one of the stories of the _Disciplina Clericalis_, two citizens of a
certain town and a countryman were making the pilgrimage to Mecca
together, and on the way ran so short of food that they had only flour
enough left to make one small loaf. The two citizens in order to cheat
the countryman out of his share devised the following scheme: While the
bread was baking they proposed that all three should sleep, and whoever
should have the most remarkable dream should have the whole loaf. While
the citizens were asleep, the countryman, who had divined their plan,
stole the half-cooked bread from the fire, ate it, and then threw
himself down again. One of the other two pretended to wake up in a
fright, and told his companion that he had dreamed that two angels had
led him through the gates of heaven into the presence of God. The other
declared that he had been led by two angels into the nether-world. The
countryman heard all this and still pretended to sleep. When his
companions aroused him he asked in amazement: "Who are those calling
me?" They answered: "We are your companions." "What," said he, "have you
got back already?" "Where have we been to in order to return?" The
countryman replied: "It seemed to me that two angels led one of you to
heaven, and afterwards two others conducted the other to hell. From this
I imagined that neither of you would return, so I got up and ate the
bread."[16]
The same story is told in Pitre (No. 173) of a monk who was an itinerant
preacher, and who was accompanied on his journey by a very cunning lay
brother. One day the monk received a present of some fish which he
wished to eat himself alone, and therefore proposed to the brother that
the one of them who dreamed the best dream should have all the fish. The
dreams and the conclusion are the same as in the original.[17]
The next story is well known from the use made of it by Cervantes in Don
Quixote (Part I., chap. xx.) where Sancho relates it to beguile the
hours of the memorable night when the noise of the fulling-mill so
terrified the doughty knight and his squire. The version in the
_Disciplina Clericalis_ is as follows: A certain king had a story-teller
who told him five stories every night. It happened once that the king,
oppressed by cares of state, was unable to sleep, and asked for more
than the usual number of stories. The story-teller related three short
ones. The king wished for more still, and when the story-teller
demurred, said: "You have told me several very short ones. I want
something long, and then you may go to sleep." The story-teller yielded,
and began thus: "Once upon a time there was a certain countryman who
went to market and bought two thousand sheep. On his way home a great
inundation took place, so that he was unable to cross a certain river by
the ford or bridge. After anxiously seeking some means of getting across
with his flock, he found at length a little boat in which he could
convey two sheep over." After the story-teller had got thus far he went
to sleep. The king roused him and ordered him to finish the story he
had begun. The story-teller answered: "The flood is great, the boat
small, and the flock innumerable; let the aforesaid countryman get his
sheep over, and I will finish the story I have begun."[18]
The version in Pitre (No. 138) lacks all connection and is poor, but we
give it here, as it is very brief.
XXXIX. THE TREASURE.
Once upon a time there was a prince who studied and racked his brains so
much that he learned magic and the art of finding hidden treasures. One
day he discovered a treasure in a bank, let us say the bank of Ddisisa:
"Oh, he says, now I am going to get it out." But to get it out it was
necessary that ten million million ants should cross one by one the
river Gianquadara (let us suppose it was that one) in a bark made of the
half shell of a nut. The prince puts the bark in the river and begins to
make the ants pass over. One, two, three,----and he is still doing it.
Here the person who is telling the story pauses and says: "We will
finish this story when the ants have finished passing over."[19]
* * * * *
The version from Milan is still shorter:
XL. THE SHEPHERD.
Once upon a time there was a shepherd who went to feed his sheep in the
fields, and he had to cross a stream, and he took the sheep up one by
one to carry them over....
What then? Go on!
When the sheep are over, I will finish the story.[20]
* * * * *
In chapter V. we shall meet two popular figures in Sicilian tales, whose
jokes are repeated elsewhere as detached stories. One of these persons
is Firrazzanu, the practical joker and knave, who is cunning enough to
make others bear the penalty of his own boldness. In the story in Pitre
(No. 156, var. 2) Firrazzanu's master wants a tailor for some work, and
Firrazzanu tells him he knows of one who is good, but subject to fits,
which always make their approach known by a twitching of the mouth, and
the only remedy for them is a sound beating. Of course, when the unlucky
tailor begins to cut his cloth, he twists his mouth, and receives, to
his amazement, a sudden beating.
In this version there is no reason given why Firrazzanu should play such
a joke on the innocent tailor. In the original, however, a motive is
given for the trick.[21]
The last story we shall mention from the _Disciplina Clericalis_ is the
one known in Pitre (No. 197) as:
XLI. THE THREE ADMONITIONS.
A man once left his country to go to foreign parts, and there entered
the service of an abbot. After he had spent some time in faithful
service, he desired to see his wife and native land. He said to the
abbot: "Sir, I have served you thus long, but now I wish to return to my
country." "Yes, my son," said the abbot, "but before departing I must
give you the three hundred ounces[C] that I have put together for you.
Will you be satisfied with three admonitions, or with the three hundred
ounces?" The servant answered: "I will be satisfied with the three
admonitions." "Then listen: First: When you change the old road for the
new, you will find troubles which you have not looked for. Second: See
much and say little. Third: Think over a thing before you do it, for a
thing deliberated is very fine.[22] Take this loaf of bread and break it
when you are truly happy."
[Footnote C: The ounce is equivalent to nearly thirteen francs (12.75).]
The good man departed, and on his journey met other travellers. These
said to him: "We are going to take the by-way. Will you come with us?"
But he remembering the three admonitions of his master answered: "No, my
friends, I will keep on this road." When he had gone half way, bang!
bang! he heard some shots. "What was that, my sons?" The robbers had
killed his companions. "I have gained the first hundred ounces!" he
said, and continued his journey. On his way he arrived at an inn as
hungry as a dog and called for something to eat. A large dish of meat
was brought which seemed to say: "Eat me, eat me!" He stuck his fork in
it and turned it over, and was frightened out of his wits, for it was
human flesh! He wanted to ask the meaning of such food and give the
innkeeper a lecture, but just then he thought: "See much and say
little;" so he remained silent. The innkeeper came, he settled his bill,
and took leave. But the innkeeper stopped him and said: "Bravo, bravo!
you have saved your life. All those who have questioned me about my food
have been soundly beaten, killed, and nicely cooked." "I have gained the
second hundred ounces," said the good man, who did not think his skin
was safe until then.
When he reached his own country he remembered his house, saw the door
ajar and slipped in. He looked about and saw no one, only in the middle
of the room was a table, well set with two glasses, two forks, two
seats, service for two. "How is this?" he said: "I left my wife alone
and here I find things arranged for two. There is some trouble." So he
hid himself under the bed to see what went on. A moment after he saw his
wife enter, who had gone out a short time before for a pitcher of water.
A little after he saw a sprucely dressed young priest come in and seat
himself at the table. "Ah, is that he?" and he was on the point of
coming forth and giving him a sound beating; but there came to his mind
the final admonition of the abbot: "Think over a thing before you do it,
for a thing deliberated is very fine;" and he refrained. He saw them
both sit down at the table, but before eating his wife turned to the
young priest and said: "My son, let us say our accustomed Paternoster
for your father." When he heard this he came from under the bed crying
and laughing for joy, and embraced and kissed them both so that it was
affecting to see him. Then he remembered the loaf his master had given
him and told him to eat in his happiness; he broke the loaf and there
fell on the table all the three hundred ounces, which the master had
secretly put in the loaf.[23]
* * * * *
We now turn to some stories taken from a collection more famous in some
respects than those previously mentioned, The Seven Wise Masters, which
enjoyed during the Middle Ages a popularity second only to that of the
Bible. Of this collection there are several Italian translations
reaching back to the fourteenth century.[24] From one of these, or
possibly from oral tradition, the stories about to be mentioned passed
into the popular tales of Italy. The first story we shall cite is
interesting because popular tradition has connected it with Pier delle
Vigne, the famous chancellor of the Emperor Frederick the Second. The
Venetian version (Bernoni, _Trad. pop. venez._ Punt. I. p. 11) is in
substance as follows:
XLII. VINEYARD I WAS AND VINEYARD I AM.
A king, averse to marriage, commanded his steward to remain single. The
latter, however, one day saw a beautiful girl named Vigna, and married
her secretly. Although he kept her closely confined in her chamber, the
king became suspicious and sent the steward off on an embassy. After his
departure the king entered the apartment occupied by him, and saw his
officer's wife sleeping. He did not disturb her, but, in leaving the
room, dropped one of his gloves accidentally on the bed. When the
husband returned he found it, but kept a discreet silence, ceasing,
however, all demonstrations of affection, believing his wife had been
faithless. The king, anxious to see again the beautiful woman, made a
feast and ordered the steward to bring his wife. He denied in vain that
he had one, but brought her at last, and while every one else was
talking gayly at the feast she was silent. The king observed it and
asked her the cause of her silence; and she answered with a pun on her
name: "Vineyard I was and Vineyard I am, I was loved and no longer am: I
know not for what reason the Vineyard has lost its season." Her husband,
who heard this, replied: "Vineyard thou wast and Vineyard thou art,
loved thou wast and no longer art: the Vineyard has lost its season for
the lion's claw." The king, who understood what he meant, answered: "I
entered the Vineyard, I touched the leaves, but I swear by my crown that
I have not tasted the fruit." Then the steward understood that his wife
was innocent, and the two made peace and always after lived happy and
contented.[25]
* * * * *
This story is found only in the Greek and Hebrew versions of The Seven
Wise Masters, and in the Arabic Seven Viziers. It did not pass into any
of the Occidental versions, although it was known to Boccaccio, who
based on it the fifth novel of the first day of the Decameron. Either,
then, the story is a late adaptation of the Oriental tale, which is
unlikely, or it comes from some now lost, but once popular Italian
version of the Oriental form of The Seven Wise Masters.[26]
The three following stories are found only in the Western, or European
versions of the collection. The first, technically called "_Vaticinium_"
or "The Prophecy," relates that a son who understood the language of
birds heard the prediction that his father and mother should come to
such want that they would not have bread to eat; but that he, the son,
should rise so high that his father should offer him water to wash his
hands with. The father, enraged at this prediction, threw his son into
the sea. He was rescued, and after many adventures, married the daughter
of the king of Sicily. One day, while riding through Messina, he saw his
father and mother, meanly dressed, sitting at the door of an inn. He
alighted from his horse, entered their house, and asked for food. After
his father and mother had brought him water to wash his hands he
revealed himself to them and forgave his father for his cruelty.
The only Italian version, and disfigured by some extraneous details, is
in the Mantuan tales (Visentini, No. 50): "Fortune aid me." Here the son
does not hear the prophecy from the birds, but an angel tells a king,
who has long desired a son, that he shall have one whom he shall one day
serve. When the child was ten years old the king was so vexed by the
prediction that he exposed his son in a wood. The child was found by a
magician, who brought him up, and from whom he afterwards escaped. He
went to the court of the king, his father, and won the hand of the
princess (his own sister) by leaping his horse over a broad ditch. At
the marriage banquet the king handed his son a glass of wine, and the
latter recognized him and exclaimed: "Behold, the father serves the
son." The marriage was of course given up and the previous aversion of
the sister explained.[27]
Closely connected with the original story in The Seven Wise Masters is
the class of stories where the hero is acquainted with the language of
animals, and attains by means of it some high position (generally
becoming pope) after he has been driven from home by his father. The
following version is from Monferrato (Comparetti, No. 56) and is
entitled:
XLIII. THE LANGUAGE OF ANIMALS.
A father once had a son who spent ten years in school. At the end of
that time, the teacher wrote the father to take away his son because he
could not teach him anything more. The father took the boy home and gave
a grand banquet in his honor, to which he invited the most noble
gentlemen of the country. After many speeches by those gentlemen, one of
the guests said to the host's son: "Just tell us some fine thing that
you have learned." "I have learned the language of dogs, of frogs, and
of birds." There was universal laughter on hearing this, and all went
away ridiculing the pride of the father and the foolishness of the son.
The former was so ashamed at his son's answer and so angry at him that
he gave him up to two servants, with orders to take him into a wood and
kill him and to bring back his heart. The two servants did not dare to
obey this command, and instead of the lad they killed a dog, and carried
its heart to their master. The youth fled from the country and came to a
castle a long way off, where lived the treasurer of the prince, who had
immense treasures. There he asked for and obtained a lodging, but
scarcely had he entered the house when a multitude of dogs collected
about the castle. The treasurer asked the young man why so many dogs had
come, and as the latter understood their language he answered that it
meant that a hundred assassins would attack the castle that very
evening, and that the treasurer should take his precautions. The
castellan made two hundred soldiers place themselves in ambush about the
castle and at night they arrested the assassins. The treasurer was so
grateful to the youth that he wished to give him his daughter, but he
replied that he could not remain now, but that he would return within a
year and three days. After he left that castle he arrived at a city
where the king's daughter was very ill because the frogs which were in a
fountain near the palace gave her no rest with their croaking. The lad
perceived that the frogs croaked because the princess had thrown a cross
into the fountain, and as soon as it was removed the girl recovered. The
king, too, wished the lad to marry her, but he again said that he would
return within a year and three days. After leaving the king he set out
for Rome, and on the way met three young men, who became his companions.
One day it was very warm and all three lay down to sleep under an oak.
Immediately a great flock of birds flew into the oak and awakened the
pilgrims by their loud singing. One of them asked: "Why are these birds
singing so joyfully?" The youth answered: "They are rejoicing with the
new Pope, who is to be one of us."
And suddenly a dove alighted on his head, and in truth shortly after he
was made Pope. Then he sent for his father, the treasurer, and the king.
All presented themselves trembling, for they knew that they had
committed some sin. But the Pope made them all relate their deeds, and
then turned to his father and said: "I am the son whom you sent to be
killed because I said I understood the language of birds, of dogs, and
of frogs. You have treated me thus, and on the other hand a treasurer
and a king have been very grateful for this knowledge of mine." The
father, repenting his fault, wept bitterly, and his son pardoned him and
kept him with him while he lived.[28]
* * * * *
The next story is doubly interesting because it is found not only in the
mediaeval collection last mentioned, but also in Greek literature, being
told of Rampsinitus, King of Egypt, by Herodotus (II. 121), and by
Pausanias of the two architects Agamedes and Trophonius who robbed the
treasury of Hyrieus.[29] There are four versions in Italian: two from
Sicily (Pitre, Nos. 159, 160), one from Bologna (Coronedi-Berti, No. 2),
and one from Monferrato (Comparetti, No. 13). In one of the Sicilian
versions (Pitre, No. 159), and in the other two from Bologna and
Monferrato, the thieves are two friends. In the other Sicilian version
they are a father and son. We give a translation of the last named
version, which is called:
XLIV. THE MASON AND HIS SON.
There was once a mason who had a wife and son. One day the king sent for
the mason to build a country-house in which to put his money, for he was
very rich and had no place to keep it. The mason set to work with his
son. In one corner they put in a stone that could be taken out and put
back, large enough for a man to enter. When the house was finished the
king paid them and they went home. The king then had his money carted to
the house and put guards around it. After a few days he saw that no one
went there and took away the guard. Let us leave the king, who took away
the guard, and return to the mason. When his money was gone he said to
his son: "Shall we go to the country-house?" They took a sack and went
there. When they arrived at the house they took out the stone and the
father entered and filled the bag with gold. When he came out he put the
stone back as it was before and they departed. The next day the king
rode out to his house and saw that his pile of gold had diminished. He
said to his servants: "Who has been taking the money?" The servants
answered: "It is not possible, your Majesty; for who comes here; where
could they get in? It may be that the house has settled, being newly
built." So they took and repaired it. After a while the mason said again
to his son: "Let us go back there." They took the accustomed sack and
went there; arriving as usual they took out the stone and the father
entered, filled the sack, and they departed. The same night they made
another trip, filled the same sack again, and went away. The next day
the king visited the house with his soldiers and councillors. When he
entered he went to see the money and it was very greatly diminished; he
turned to his councillors and said: "Some one comes here and takes the
money." The councillors said: "But, your Majesty, while you are saying
so, one thing can be done; take a few tubs, fill them with melted pitch,
and place them around the walls on the inside, whoever enters will fall
in them, and the thief is found."
They took the tubs and put them inside, and the king left sentinels and
returned to the city. The sentinels remained there a week; but as they
saw no one, they, too, left.
Let us leave the sentinels, who have departed, and return to the mason.
He said to his son: "Let us go to the accustomed place." They took the
sack and went. Arriving there, they took out the stone, and the father
entered. As he entered he stuck fast in the pitch. He tried to help
himself and get his feet loose, but his hands stuck fast. Then he said
to his son: "Do you hear what I tell you, my son? Cut off my head, tear
my coat to pieces, put back the stone as it was, and throw my head in
the river, so that I shall not be known." The son did as he was told,
and returned home. When he told his mother what had become of his
father, she began to tear her hair. After a few days, the son, who did
not know any trade, entered the service of a carpenter, and told his
mother not to say anything, as if nothing had happened.
Let us leave these and return to the king, who went the next day with
his councillors to the country-house. They entered and saw the body, and
the king said: "But it has no head! How shall we find out who it is?"
The councillors said: "Take him and carry him through the streets three
days; where you see weeping you will know who it is." They took the
body, and called Filippu Carruba and Brasi Vuturu,[D] and made them
carry it about. When they passed through the street where the mason's
widow lived, she began to weep. The son, whose shop was near by, heard
it, and gave himself a blow in the hand with an axe and cut off his
fingers. The police arrested the mother, saying: "We have found out who
it is." Meanwhile the son arrived there and said: "She is not weeping
for that; she is weeping because I have cut off my fingers and can no
longer work and earn my bread." The police saw it was so, believed him,
and departed. At night they carried the body to the palace and built
outside a scaffold to put the body on, because they had to carry it
around three days. About the scaffold they placed nine sentinels--eight
soldiers and a corporal. Now it was in the winter and was very cold; so
the son took a mule and loaded it with drugged wine, and passed up and
down. When the soldiers saw him they cried: "Friend, are you selling
that wine?" He said: "I am." "Wait until we drink, for we are trembling
with the cold." After they had drunk they threw themselves down and went
to sleep, and the son took the body, and, after he had buried it outside
of the town, returned home.
[Footnote D: Names of two undertakers in Salaparuta, where the story was
collected.]
[In the morning the soldiers awoke and told the king what had happened,
and he issued a proclamation that whoever found the body should receive
a large sum of money. The body was found and carried about the street
again, but no one wept. That night new sentinels were appointed, but the
same thing happened as the night before. The soldiers were drugged and
dressed in monks' robes, and the corporal had a cross stuck between his
legs. The next day another proclamation, the body again found and
carried about, but no one detected weeping. The story then continues:]
The mason's son (here called for the first time Ninu) could not rest,
and went to Cianedda.[E] "Will you do me a favor?" "If I can," answered
Cianedda; "not one, but two. What can I do for you?" "Will you lend me
your goats this evening?" "I will." Ninu took them, bought four
_rotula_[F] of candles and an old earthen pot, knocked out the bottom
and fastened some candles around it. Then he took the goats and fixed
two candles to the horns of each one and took them where the body was,
and followed with the pot on his head and the candles lighted. The
soldiers ran away in terror, and the son took the body and threw it in
the sea.
[Footnote E: The name of a goatherd in Salaparuta.]
[Footnote F: A rotulu = .793 kilos.]
[The next day the king commanded that the price of meat should be set at
twelve _tari_[G] a _rotulu_, and ordered that all the old women of the
city should assemble at the palace. A hundred came, and he told them to
go begging about the city and find out who was cooking meat; thinking
that only the thief could afford to buy meat at that price. Ninu, of
course, bought some and gave it to his mother to cook. While it was
cooking, and Ninu absent, one of the old women came begging, and the
widow gave her a piece of meat. As she was going down-stairs Ninu met
her and asked her what she was doing. She explained that she was begging
for some bread. Ninu, suspecting the trick, took her and threw her into
the well.]
[Footnote G: Frs. 5.10.]
At noon, when the old women were to present themselves to the king, one
was missing. The king then sent for the butchers, and found that just
one _rotulu_ of meat had been sold. When the king saw this, he issued a
proclamation to find out who had done all these wonders, and said: "If
he is unmarried, I will give him my daughter; if he is married, I will
give him two measures of gold." Ninu presented himself to the king and
said: "Your Majesty, it was I." The king burst out laughing, and asked:
"Are you married or single?" He said: "Your Majesty, I am single." And
the king said: "Will you be satisfied with my daughter, or with two
measures, of gold?" "Your Majesty," he said, "I want to marry; give me
your daughter." So he did, and they had a grand banquet.[30]
* * * * *
The story in The Seven Wise Masters, known as "_Inclusa_," or "The
Elopement," is found only in Pitre (No. 176), where it is told of a
tailor who lived next to the king's palace, with which his house
communicated by a secret door known only to the king and the tailor's
wife. The tailor, while at work in the palace, imagines he sees his wife
there, and pretending that he has forgotten his shears, etc., rushes
home to find his wife there. She finally elopes with the king, leaving
at her window an image that deceives her husband until she is beyond
pursuit.[31]
Far more curious than any of the stories above given is the last one we
shall mention from The Seven Wise Masters. The story in this collection
known as "_Avis_," or "The Talking Bird," is briefly as follows: A
jealous husband has a talking bird that is a spy upon his wife's
actions. In order to impair his confidence in the bird, one night while
he is absent the wife orders a servant to shower water over the bird's
cage, to make a heavy sound like thunder, and to imitate the flashing of
lightning with candles. The bird, on its master's return, tells him of
the terrific storm the night before, and is killed for its supposed
falsehood. This story is found in both the Eastern and Western versions
of The Seven Wise Masters, and practically constitutes the framework of
another famous Oriental collection, the Cukasaptati (from _cuka_, a
parrot, and _saptati_, seventy, The Seventy Tales of a Parrot), better
known by its Persian and Turkish name, Tuti-Nameh, Tales of a
Parrot.[32] The frame, or groundwork, of the various Oriental versions
is substantially the same. A husband is obliged to leave home on
business, and while he is absent his wife engages in a love affair with
a stranger. A parrot, which the husband has left behind, prevents the
wife meeting her lover by telling her stories which interest her so much
that she keeps putting off her appointment until her husband returns. In
the Turkish version the parrot reconciles the husband and wife; in the
Persian versions the parrot relates what has happened, and the faithless
wife is killed.
The Italian versions, as will soon be seen, are not derived from The
Seven Wise Masters, but from the Cukasaptati; and what is very curious,
the framework has been retained and filled with stories that are not in
the original.[33] The most simple version is from Pisa (Comparetti, No.
1), and is called:
XLV. THE PARROT (FIRST VERSION).
There was once a merchant who had a beautiful daughter, with whom the
king and the viceroy were both in love. The former knew that the
merchant would soon have to depart on business, and he would then have a
chance to speak with the girl. The viceroy knew it, too, and pondered on
how he could prevent the king succeeding in his plan. He was acquainted
with a witch, and promised her immunity and a large sum of money if she
would teach him how to change himself into a parrot. This she did, and
of course the merchant bought him for his daughter, and departed.
When the parrot thought it was about time for the king to come, he said
to the girl: "Now, to amuse you, I will tell you a story; but you must
attend to me and not see any one while I am telling it." Then he began
his story, and after he had gone a little way in it a servant entered
and told her mistress that there was a letter for her. "Tell her to
bring it later," said the parrot, "and now listen to me." "I do not
receive letters while my father is away," said the mistress, and the
parrot continued. After a while another interruption. A servant
announces the visit of an aunt. (It was not an aunt, but a woman who
came from the king.) The parrot said: "Do not receive her; we are in the
finest part of our story," and the young girl sent word that she did not
receive any visits while her father was absent, and the parrot went on.
When his story was ended the girl was so pleased that she would listen
to no one else until her father returned. Then the parrot disappeared,
and the viceroy visited the merchant and asked his daughter's hand. He
consented, and the marriage took place that very day. The wedding was
scarcely over when a gentleman came to ask the girl's hand for the king;
but it was too late, and the poor king, who was much in love with her,
died of a broken heart, and the girl remained the wife of the viceroy,
who had been more cunning than the king.
* * * * *
We have omitted the story told by the parrot because we shall meet it
again in the Sicilian version, and substantially in the following
version from Florence, which we give entire on account of the rarity of
the work in which it is found, and for its own merits.[34] It is also
entitled:
XLVI. THE PARROT. (SECOND VERSION.)
Once upon a time there was a merchant who, having to go on a journey,
gave his wife a parrot to amuse her in her loneliness. The wife, vexed
that her husband should leave her so soon, threw the bird in a corner
and thought no more about it. At evening she went to the window and saw
pass a young man, who fell in love with her as soon as he saw her. On
the first floor there lived a woman who sold coals, and the young man
began to tempt her to help him in his love affair. She would not
promise, because the merchant's wife had been married but a few days,
and was an honest woman. She added, however, that there was a way; her
daughter was to be married shortly, she would invite the young wife to
the wedding, and the young man, being there too, could manage the rest.
The wife accepted the invitation, dressed herself in her finest clothes,
and was on the point of leaving when the parrot cried from its corner:
"O mistress, where are you going? I wished to tell you a story; but suit
yourself." The wife then dismissed the coal-woman, who, not to spoil
matters, promised to put off the wedding and return for her the next
day. Then the parrot began:
"Once upon a time there was a king's son whose master was so learned in
magic that with certain words he could change himself into various
animals. The prince wanted to learn these words, too; but the magician
hesitated and refused, although he had to yield at last. Then the prince
became a crow and flew far away to a distant country and into the garden
of a king, where he saw a beautiful girl with a mirror in which was set
her portrait. The crow in wonder snatched the glass from her hands, and
flew home and resumed his own form, but he fell so deeply in love with
the unknown girl that he became ill.
"She, meanwhile, who was the daughter of a king, seeing the glass taken
from her, no longer had any peace of mind, and begged her father until
he gave her permission to go in search of it. She dressed herself like a
physician and departed. She came to a city and heard a proclamation by
the king, that whatever physician should pass that way should be obliged
to visit and try to cure his daughter. Then the new physician had to go
to the palace, but she could not discover any remedy for the grave
disease. At night, while sitting by the princess' bed, the light went
out, and she left the room to light it, and saw in a little cottage
three old women sitting around a cauldron boiling over a great fire.
'Good women, are you washing?' 'What a washing! these are three heads,
and when they are cooked the princess will die.' 'Bravo, my good women;
bring the wood and I will help, too.' She remained there some time and
promised to return. The brighter the fire burned, the nearer the
princess came to death. The physician consoled the king and had a fine
supper prepared. The second night she carried food and a great deal of
wine to the old women, and when they were drunk threw them into the
fire and lifted off the cauldron with the boiling heads. The princess
recovered and the king wished to give her to the physician and reward
him with gems and gold, but the physician would take nothing, and
departed."
"You know, mistress, it is late and I am tired," interrupted the parrot;
"I will tell you the rest to-morrow."
The next day the woman who sold coals came again, and the merchant's
wife was on the point of accompanying her; but the parrot detained her,
promising to finish the story. So the woman went away in anger, and the
parrot continued:
"The princess disguised as a physician journeyed until she came to
another city, and heard a proclamation by the king, that every physician
who passed that way should be forced to visit and attempt to cure his
son. The new physician, too, had to go to court; but could find no
remedy for the severe disease. At night, while sitting at the bedside of
the prince, she heard a loud noise in the next room: went to the door
and saw three old women, who were preparing a banquet. Afterwards they
approached the invalid, anointed him from head to foot, and carried him
healed to the table; then when they were full of wine and merry, they
anointed him again and replaced him on his bed worse than before. The
physician comforted the king, and the second night allowed the witches
to take the prince to the table, then appeared and frightening the old
women with threats of the king's anger drove them from the room and
restored the son to his father. The king, well pleased, wished to
recompense the physician, who would take nothing, and departed."
"But you know, mistress, it is late and I am weary. I will tell you the
rest to-morrow."
The next day the woman who sold coals returned, and the merchant's wife
was on the point of following her; but the parrot detained her,
promising to finish the story. The woman went away angry, and the parrot
continued:
"After a long journey the princess disguised as a physician came to
another city, and heard a proclamation by the king, that every
physician who passed that way should be compelled to visit and attempt
to cure his son. The new physician, too, had to go to court; but she
could find no remedy for the severe disease. The prince would speak to
no one, but the physician at last made the invalid disclose the secret
of his heart, and he told of the mirror and showed the portrait of the
unknown lady whom he loved desperately. The physician consoled the king;
had garments and ornaments exactly like those of the young girl in the
glass prepared; dressed in them, and as she appeared before the prince
he leaped from his bed, embracing his betrothed in the midst of
rejoicings."
But here the lady hears her husband arriving. Joy makes her beside
herself; and she throws from the window the poor parrot, which now seems
to her only a tiresome companion. The merchant enters and inquires about
the bird; sees the parrot hurt upon the neighboring roof and picks it up
kindly. The parrot narrates to him the wiles of the coal-woman and its
own prudence; assures the husband that his wife is innocent; but
complains of her being so ungrateful; she had promised him a gold vase,
and now treats him thus. The merchant consoles the dying bird, and
afterwards has him embalmed and placed in the gold vase. As for his
wife, he loved her more than ever.
* * * * *
Another version from Piedmont (Comparetti, No. 2; De Gub. Zool. Myth.
II. 322) differs materially from the ones just given. A king is obliged
to go to war and leave behind him his wife, with whom another king is in
love. Before parting he forbids his wife to leave the palace during his
absence, and presents her with a parrot. No sooner has the king departed
than his rival attempts to obtain an interview with the queen by giving
a feast and inviting her to it. The parrot prevents her going by
relating the story contained in the first version. They are interrupted
in the same manner by an old woman sent by the lover, but to no purpose.
When the story is finished, the husband returns, and the parrot becomes
a young man, whom the king had engaged to watch over his wife's
fidelity.
The Sicilian version of our story is the most interesting as well as the
most complete of all; the single story in the continental versions has
been expanded into three, and the frame is more artistic. The story is
the second in Pitre, and is as follows:
XLVII. THE PARROT WHICH TELLS THREE STORIES.
(THIRD VERSION.)
Once upon a time there was a rich merchant who wanted to marry, and who
happened to find a wife as good as the day was long, and who loved her
husband desperately. One day she saw him a little annoyed, and said:
"What makes you feel so?" "What should make me feel so! I have important
business to attend to, and must go and see to it on the spot." "And are
you annoyed about that? let us arrange matters thus: you will leave me
provisions and close up all the doors and windows but one high up; make
me a wicket, and then depart." "The advice pleases me," said her
husband, and he laid in at once a large provision of bread, flour, oil,
coals, and everything; had all the doors and windows closed up but one,
to take the air, had a wicket made like those in the convents, and
departed, and the wife remained with her maid. The next day a servant
called at the wicket to do what was necessary and then went away. After
ten days the lady began to be oppressed, and had a great mind to cry.
The maid said: "There is a remedy for everything, my mistress; let us
draw the table up to the window, and climb up and enjoy the sight of the
Corso." They did so, and the lady looked out. "Ah! I thank you, sirs!"
As she uttered the ah! opposite her was a notary's office, and there
were the notary and a cavalier. They turned and saw this beautiful young
woman. "Oh! what a handsome woman! I must speak with her!" said the
cavalier. "No: I will speak first," said the notary. And "I first," and
"I first." They laid a wager of four hundred ounces as to who would
speak with her first. The lady perceived them and withdrew from the
window.
The notary and the cavalier thought about the bet, and had no rest
running here and there and trying to speak with the lady. At last the
notary in despair went out into the fields and began to call his demon.
The demon appeared and the notary told him everything, saying: "And this
cavalier wishes to have the advantage of speaking with the lady first."
"What will you give me?" said the demon. "My soul." "Then see what you
have to do; I will change you into a parrot and you must fly and alight
on the window of the lady. The maid will take you and have a silver cage
made for you and put you in it. The cavalier will find an old woman who
is able to make the lady leave the house. But she will not make her
leave, you know. You must say: 'My pretty mamma, sit down while I tell
you a story.' The old woman will come thrice; you must tear out your
feathers and fly into a passion and say always: 'My pretty mamma, don't
go with that old woman, she will betray you; sit down while I tell you a
story.' And then tell her any story you wish."
The demon ended with: "Man you are, become a parrot!" and the parrot
flew away to the window. The maid saw it and caught it with her
handkerchief. When the lady saw the parrot she said: "How beautiful you
are! Now you will be my consolation." "Yes, pretty mamma, I will love
you, too." The lady had a silver cage made, and shut the parrot up in
it.
Let us leave the parrot in the cage, and return to the cavalier, who was
making desperate efforts to see the lady. An old woman met him, and
asked him what the matter was. "Must I tell you what the matter is?" and
dismissed her; but the old woman was persistent. At last to get rid of
her he told her all about the wager. The old woman said: "I am able to
make you speak with the lady. You must have prepared for me two handsome
baskets of early fruit." The cavalier was so anxious to see the lady
that he had the baskets of early fruit prepared and given to her. With
these things the old woman went to the wicket, pretending that she was
the lady's grandmother. The lady believed her. One word brings on
another. "Tell me, my granddaughter, you are always shut up, but don't
you hear mass Sundays?" "How could I hear it shut up?" "Ah, my daughter,
you will be damned. No, this is not well. You must hear mass Sundays.
To-day is a feast day; let us go to mass."
While the lady was being persuaded, the parrot began to lament. When its
mistress opened the clothespress, the parrot said: "My pretty mamma,
don't go, for the old woman will betray you. If you don't go I will tell
you a story." The lady took an idea into her head. "Now, my
grandmother," she said, "go away, for I cannot come." And the old woman
went away. When she had gone, the lady went to the parrot, which related
to her this story:
FIRST STORY OF THE PARROT.
Once upon a time there was a king who had an only daughter, who was very
fond of dolls, and had one that was her delight. She dressed her and
undressed her and put her to bed, in short did for her what is done for
children. One day the king wished to go into the country, and the
princess wished to take the doll. While they were walking about, in a
moment of forgetfulness, she left her doll on a hedge. It was meal time,
and after they had eaten they got into the carriage and returned to the
royal palace. What do you suppose the princess forgot? the doll!
As soon as they arrived at the palace the princess remembered the doll.
What did she do? Instead of going up-stairs, she turned round and went
to look for the doll. When she got outdoors, she became lost and
wandered about like a person bereft of her senses. After a time she came
to a royal palace and asked who was the king of that palace. "The King
of Spain," they said. She asked for a lodging. She entered; the king
gave her lodging and treated her like a daughter. She made herself at
home in the palace and began to be the mistress. The king had no
daughters and gave her liberty to do as she pleased in spite of twelve
royal damsels. Now, as there is envy among equals, the damsels began to
oppose her. Said they: "Just see! Who knows who she is? and is she to be
our princess? Now this thing must stop!" The next day they said to the
princess: "Will you come with us?" "No, because papa does not wish it.
If he is willing, I will come." "Do you know what you must do to make
him let you come? tell him: 'By the soul of his daughter he must let you
go.' When he hears that, he will let you go at once." The princess did
so, but when the king heard her say: "By the soul of his daughter!" "Ah!
wretch," exclaimed the king; "quick, throw her down the trap-door!" When
the princess fell down the trap-door she found a door, then another, and
another, always feeling her way along. At a certain point she felt with
her hands like the blind, and found tinder and matches. She then lighted
a candle which she found there, and saw a beautiful young girl, with a
padlock on her mouth, so that she could not speak, but she made signs
that the key to open it with was under the pillow of the bed. The
princess got it and opened the padlock; then the young girl spoke, and
said that she was the daughter of the king whom a magician had stolen.
This magician brought her, every day, something to eat, and then locked
up her mouth, and she had to wait until the next day to open it again.
"But tell me," said the princess, "what way is there to free you?" "How
do I know? I can do nothing but ask the magician when he opens my mouth;
you hide under the bed and listen, and afterwards think what has to be
done." "Good! good!" The princess locked her mouth, put the key under
the pillow, and crawled under the bed. But at midnight a great noise was
heard; the earth opened, lightning, smoke, and smell of sulphur, and the
magician appeared in a magician's robe. With the magician was a giant
with a bowl of food, and two servants with two torches. The magician
sent away the servants, and locked the doors, took the key, and opened
the mouth of the king's daughter. While they were eating, she said:
"Magician, I have a thought: out of curiosity I would like to know what
it would be necessary for me to do to escape from here." "You want to
know a great deal, my daughter!" "Never mind, I don't care to know."
"However, I will tell you. It would be necessary to make a mine all
around the palace, and precisely at midnight, when I am on the point of
entering, to explode the mine: you will find yourself with your father,
and I will fly up in the air." "It's as if you had not told any one,"
said the young girl. The magician dressed himself and went away. After a
few hours the princess came out from under the bed, took leave of her
little sister, for she already called her "little sister," and departed.
She went back to the trap-door and, at a certain point, stopped and
called for help. The king heard her, and had a rope lowered. The
princess climbed up and related everything to the king. He was
astounded, and began the mine, which he had filled with shot, powder,
and balls. When it was full to the brim, the princess descended with a
watch and went to the king's daughter: "Either both dead, or both
alive!" When she entered the room, she said: "It is I," took the lock
from her mouth, talked with her, and then concealed herself under the
bed. At midnight the magician came, and the king was on the lookout,
with his watch in his hand. As the clock struck twelve, the princess
fired the mine: boom! and a great noise was heard: the magician
vanished, and the two young girls found themselves free and in each
other's arms. When the king saw them, he exclaimed: "Ah! my daughters!
your misfortune was your good fortune. My crown belongs to you," said he
to the princess whom he had adopted. "No, your Majesty, for I am a
king's daughter, and I, too, have a crown."
This matter spread over the world, and her fame passed through all the
kingdoms, and every one talked of nothing but the great courage and
goodness of this princess who had delivered the other princess from the
magician. And they remained happy and always enjoyed holy peace.
"What do you think, pretty mamma, of this story?" "It is very fine,"
said the lady to the parrot.
A week passed after the story; the old woman again came with two other
baskets of fruit to her granddaughter: "Pretty idea!" said the parrot.
"Take care, pretty mamma; the old woman is coming." The old woman said:
"Come, my daughter, are you going to mass?" "Yes, my grandmother;" and
the lady began dressing herself. When the parrot saw her dressing
herself it began to tear out its feathers and weep: "No, pretty mamma,
don't go to mass; that old woman will ruin you. If you will stay with
me, I will tell you another story." "Now go away," said the lady to the
old woman, "for I cannot kill my dear little parrot, for the sake of the
mass." "Ah! wicked woman! to lose your soul for an animal!" The old
woman went away and the parrot told this story:
SECOND STORY OF THE PARROT.
Well then, my lady, there was once upon a time a king who had an only
daughter as beautiful as the sun and moon. When she was eighteen a
Turkish king wished to marry her. When she heard that it was a Turkish
king she said: "What do I want of Turks!" and refused him. Shortly after
she became very ill, convulsions, twisting of the body, rolling of her
eyes to the back of her head, and the doctors did not know what was the
matter. The poor father in confusion called his council together, and
said: "Gentlemen, my daughter is losing ground every day; what advice do
you give me?" The sages said: "Your Majesty, there is a young girl who
found the daughter of the King of Spain;[H] find her and she will tell
you what must be done for your daughter." "Bravo! the council has been
favorable." The king ordered vessels to go for this young girl: "And if
the King of Spain will not let her go, give him this iron glove and
declare war!" The vessels departed and reached Spain one morning. They
fired a salute, the ambassador landed, presented himself to the king,
and gave him a sealed letter. The king opened it and after reading it
began to weep and said: "I prefer war, and I will not give up this
girl." Meanwhile the girl entered: "What is the matter, your Majesty?
(and she saw the letter). What are you afraid of? I will go at once to
this king." "How, my daughter, will you then leave me thus?" "I will
return. I will go and see what is the matter with this young girl and
then come back."
[Footnote H: The princess of the last story.]
She took leave of her half-sister and departed. When she arrived the
king went to meet her: "My daughter, if you cure this sick daughter of
mine, I will give you my crown!" "That makes two crowns!" she said to
herself. "I have a crown, your Majesty. Let us see what the matter is,
and never mind the crowns." She went and saw the princess all wasted
away. She turned to the king and said: "Your Majesty! have some broth
and substantial things made," and they were prepared at once. "I am
going to shut myself up with your daughter, and you must not open the
door, for in three days I will give her to you alive or dead. And listen
to what I say: even if I should knock you must not open." Everything was
arranged and the door was fastened with chains and padlocks, but they
forgot the tinder to light the candle with at night. In the evening
there was great confusion. The young girl did not wish to knock, and as
she looked out of the window she saw a light at a distance. So she
descended by a ladder of silk, taking with her a candle. When she drew
near the light she saw a large cauldron placed on some stones and a
furnace under it, and a Turk who was stirring it with a stick. "What are
you doing, Turk?" "My king wanted the daughter of the king, she did not
want him, he is bewitching her." "My poor little Turk! You are tired,
are you not? do you know what you must do? rest yourself a little while
I stir." "I will, by Mahomet!" He got down; she got up and began to stir
with the stick. "Am I doing it all right thus?" "Yes, by Mahomet." "Well
then, you take a nap, and I will stir." When he was asleep, she came
down, seized him, and threw him into the boiling cauldron, where he
died. When she saw that he was dead, she lighted her candle and returned
to the palace. She entered the room and found the invalid had fainted on
the floor. She brought her to with cologne water (_acqua d' oduri_) and
in three days she had recovered. Then she knocked at the door and the
king entered, beside himself at finding his daughter cured. "Ah! my
daughter," he said to the young girl who had healed her, "how much we
owe you! you must remain here with me." "It is impossible; you
threatened my father with war if he did not allow me to come; now my
father declares war with you if you do not let me return to him." She
remained there a fortnight, then departed, and the king gave her
quantities of riches and jewels. She returned to the king of Spain's
palace.
And so the story ends.
* * * * *
"What did you think of the story, pretty mamma?" said the parrot.
"Beautiful, beautiful." "But you must not go with the old woman, because
there is treason."
After a week the old woman came with her baskets. "My daughter, you must
do me this pleasure to-day, come and hear the holy mass." "I will." When
the parrot heard that, he began to weep and tear out his feathers: "No,
my pretty mamma, don't go with the old woman. If you will stay, I will
tell you another story." "Grandmother mine," says she, "I can't come,
for I don't wish to lose the parrot for your sake." She closed the
wicket and the old woman went away grumbling and cursing. The lady then
seated herself near the parrot, which told this story:
THIRD STORY OF THE PARROT.
Once upon a time there was a king and a queen who had an only son, whose
sole diversion was the chase. Once he wished to go hunting at a
distance, and took with him his attendants. Where do you think he
happened to go? To the country where the doll was.[I] When he saw the
doll he said: "I have finished my hunt, let us return home!" He took
the doll and placed it before him on the horse, and exclaimed every few
minutes: "How beautiful this doll is! think of its mistress!" When he
reached the palace he had a glass case made in the wall, and put the
doll in it, and kept looking at it continually and saying: "How
beautiful the doll is! think of the mistress!"
[Footnote I: The doll of the first story.]
The young man would not see any one and became so melancholy that his
father summoned the physicians, who said: "Your Majesty, we know nothing
of this illness; see what he does with his doll." The king went to see
his son and found him gazing at the doll, and exclaiming: "Oh! how
beautiful the doll is! think of the mistress!" The physicians departed
as wise as when they came. The prince meanwhile did nothing but sit and
look at the doll, and draw deep breaths, and sigh, and exclaim: "How
beautiful the doll is! think of the mistress!" The king at last, in
despair, summoned his council, and said: "See how my son is reduced! He
has no fever, or pain in his head, but he is wasting away, and some one
else will enjoy my kingdom! Give me advice." "Majesty, are you
perplexed? Is there not that young girl who found the King of Spain's
daughter, and cured the other princess? Send for her. If her father will
not let her come, declare war with him."
The king sent his ambassadors with the message that the young girl
should be sent _nolens volens_. While the ambassadors were in the king's
presence, his daughter entered, the one who had done the wonders, and
found her father perplexed: "What is the matter, your Majesty?"
"Nothing, my daughter. Another occasion has arrived, another king wants
you. Does he mean that I am no longer your master?" "Never mind, your
Majesty; let me go; I will soon return."
So she embarked with all her attendants and began her journey. When she
arrived where the prince was, she saw him drawing such deep breaths that
it seemed as if he would swallow himself, and always exclaiming: "Oh!
how beautiful the doll is! think of the mistress!" She said: "You have
called me none too soon! However, give me a week: bring me ointments,
food; and in a week, alive and well, or dead."
She shut herself up with him and listened to hear what the prince said,
for she had not yet heard what he was saying, he was so feeble. When she
heard him whisper: "Oh! how be-au-ti-ful is the doll; con-sid-er," and
saw the doll, she cried: "Ah! wretch! it was you who had my doll! Leave
it to me, I will cure you." When he heard these words he came to himself
and said: "Are you the doll's mistress?" "I am." Just think! he returned
to life and she began to give him broth until she had restored him. When
he was restored she said: "Now tell me how you got the doll," and the
prince told her everything. To make the matter short, in a week the
prince was cured, and they declared that they would marry each other.
The king, beside himself with joy because his son was healed, wrote
several letters: one to the King of Spain to tell him that his daughter
had found her doll, another to the other king, her father, to tell him
that his daughter was found, and another to the king whose daughter she
had cured. Afterwards all these monarchs came together and made great
festivals, and the prince married the princess, and they lived together
in great peace.
* * * * *
"Has this story pleased you, pretty mamma?" "Yes, my son." "But you must
not go with the old woman, you know."
After the story was ended a servant came: "My lady, my lady, the master
is coming!" "Truly!" said the lady. "Now, parrot, listen; I will have a
new cage made for you." The master arrived, the windows were all opened,
and he embraced his wife. At dinner they placed the parrot in the middle
of the table, and when the joy was at its height the bird threw some
soup in its master's eyes. The master, when he felt it, put his hands to
his eyes, and the parrot darted at his throat, strangled him, and flew
away.
He flew away to the country, and saying, "I am a parrot, and I become a
man," he was changed into a handsome, cunning, and well-kempt man on the
Corso. He met the cavalier: "Do you know," said this one, "that the poor
lady's husband is dead? a parrot strangled him!" "Truly? poor woman!
poor woman!" said the notary, and went his way without speaking of the
wager. The notary learned that the lady had a mother, and went to her to
ask her daughter in marriage. After hesitating, the lady finally said
yes, and they were married. That evening the notary said to the lady:
"Now tell me, who killed your husband?" "A parrot." "And what about this
parrot?" The lady told him everything to where the parrot dashed the
broth in its master's eyes, and then flew away. "True! true!" said the
notary. "Was I not the parrot?" "It was you! I am amazed." "It was I,
and I became a parrot for your sake!"
The next day the notary went to the cavalier to get the four hundred
ounces of the wager, which he enjoyed with his wife.
* * * * *
The three stories related by the parrot are, as has been seen, in
reality one story, and they are, in fact found as such independent of
the frame.[35] It has also been seen that the story or stories related
by the parrot are, substantially, the same in all the versions. The
Florentine version alone does not contain the episode of the doll. The
story, as a whole, has no parallels, although it bears a slight
resemblance to the story in the Pentamerone (II. 2), "Green Meadow." The
princess as physician, and the secret malady of the prince or princess,
are traits which abound in all the popular tales of Europe.[36]
Many single stories of Oriental origin will be found in the chapters
following. We shall close this one with a story which was popular in
Europe during the Middle Ages, being found in one of the great
collections of that period, the _Gesta Romanorum_. Of the various
Italian versions we shall select one from Pomigliano d'Arco called:
XLVIII. TRUTHFUL JOSEPH.
Once upon a time there was a mother who had a son named Joseph; and
because he never told a lie she called him Truthful Joseph. One day when
she was calling him, the king happened to pass by, and hearing her call
him thus, asked her: "Why do you call him Truthful Joseph?" "Because he
never tells a lie." Then the king said that he would like to have him in
his service, and set him to keeping his cows. Every morning Joseph
presented himself to the king, and said: "Your Majesty's servant." The
king answered: "Good morning, Truthful Joseph. How are the cows?" "Well
and fat." "How are the calves?" "Well and handsome." "How is the bull?"
"The same." So he did every morning. The king praised him so highly in
the presence of all his courtiers that they became angry at him; and one
day, to make Joseph a liar, they sent to him a lady, who was to induce
him by her words to kill the bull. Joseph was urged so strongly that he
consented; but afterwards he was in great perplexity as to what he
should tell the king. So he put his cloak on a chair and pretended that
it was the king, and said: "Your Majesty's servant. Good morning,
Truthful Joseph. How are the cows? Well and fat. How are the calves?
Well and handsome. How is the bull? The same. But no; that will not do!
I am telling a lie! When the king asks me how the bull is, I will tell
him that it is dead."
He presented himself to the king and said: "Your Majesty's servant."
"Good morning, Truthful Joseph. How are the cows?" "Well and fat." "How
are the calves?" "Well and handsome." "How is the bull?" "Your Majesty,
a lady came and with her manners made me kill the bull. Pardon me." The
king answered: "Bravo, Truthful Joseph!" He summoned his courtiers and
showed them that Joseph had not yet told any lie. And so Joseph remained
always with the king, and the courtiers were duped, because they gained
nothing that they had expected.[37]