STORIES AND JESTS.
Until the Reformation, Europe was, by its religion and the culture
growing out of it, a homogeneous state. Not only, however, did the
legends of the Church find access to the people everywhere, but the
stories imported from the Orient were equally popular and wide-spread.
The absence of other works of entertainment and the monotonous character
of the legends increased the popularity of tales which were amusing and
interesting. We have considered in other places the fairy tales and
those stories which are of more direct Oriental origin. In the present
chapter we shall examine those stories which are of the character of
jests or amusing stories, some of which are also Oriental, but may more
appropriately be classed in this chapter. The first story we shall
mention is familiar to the reader from the ballad of "King John and the
Abbot of Canterbury," in Percy and Buerger's poem of _Der Kaiser und der
Abt_. There are two popular versions in Italian, as well as several
literary ones. The shortest is from Milan (Imbriani, _Nov. fior._ p.
621), and is entitled:
XCI. THE COOK.
There was once a lord whose name was
"Abbot-who-eats-and-drinks-without-thinking." The king went there and
saw this name on the door, and said that if he had nothing to think of,
he would give him something to think of. He told him that he must do in
a week the three things which he told him. First, to tell him how many
stars there were in heaven, how many fathoms of rope it would take to
reach to heaven, and what he, the king, was thinking of. The cook saw
that his master was sad, and sat with his head bent over the table, and
asked him what was the matter, and his master told him everything. The
cook promised to settle the matter if he would give him half of his
property. He also asked for the skin of a dead ass, a cart-load of rope,
and his master's hat and cloak. Then the cook went to the king, who said
to him: "Well, how many stars are there in heaven?" The cook answered:
"Whoever counts the hairs on this ass' skin will know how many stars
there are in heaven." Then the king told him to count them, and he
answered that his share was already counted, and that it was for the
king to count now. Then the king asked him how many fathoms of rope it
would take to reach to heaven, and the cook replied: "Take this rope and
go to heaven, and then come back and count how many fathoms there are."
Finally the king asked: "What am I thinking of?" "You are thinking that
I am the abbot; instead of that, I am the cook, and I have here the
stew-pan to try the broth."
* * * * *
The version in Pitre (No. 97) is much better. It is called:
XCII. THE THOUGHTLESS ABBOT.
There was once in a city a priest who became an abbot, and who had his
carriages, horses, grooms, steward, secretary, valet, and many other
persons on account of the wealth that he had. This abbot thought only of
eating, drinking, and sleeping. All the priests and laymen were jealous
of him, and called him the "Thoughtless Abbot."
One day the king happened to pass that way, and stopped, and all the
abbot's enemies went to him straightway, and accused the abbot, saying:
"Your Majesty, in this town there is a person happier than you, very
rich, and lacking nothing in the world, and he is called the
'Thoughtless Abbot.'"
After reflection the king said to the accusers: "Gentlemen, depart in
peace, for I will soon make this abbot think." The king sent directly
for the abbot, who had his carriage made ready, and went to the king in
his coach and four. The king received him kindly, made him sit at his
side, and talked about various things with him. Finally he asked him why
they called him the "Thoughtless Abbot," and he replied that it was
because he was free from care, and that his servants attended to his
interests.
Then the king said: "Well, then, Sir Abbot, since you have nothing to
do, do me the favor to count all the stars in the sky, and this within
three days and three nights; otherwise you will surely be beheaded." The
poor "Thoughtless Abbot" on hearing these words began to tremble like a
leaf, and taking leave of the king, returned home, in mortal fear for
his neck.
When meal-time came, he could not eat on account of his great anxiety,
and went at once out on the terrace to look at the sky, but the poor man
could not see a single star. When it grew dark, and the stars came out,
the poor abbot began to count them and write it down. But it grew dark
and light again, without the abbot succeeding in his task. The cook, the
steward, the secretaries, the grooms, the coachmen, and all the persons
in the house became thoughtful when they saw that their master did not
eat or drink, and always watched the sky. Not knowing what else to
think, they believed that he had gone mad. To make the matter short, the
three days passed without the abbot counting the stars, and the poor man
did not know how to present himself to the king, for he was sure he
would behead him. Finally, the last day, an old and trusty servant
begged him so long, that he told him the whole matter, and said: "I have
not been able to count the stars, and the king will cut my head off this
morning." When the servant had heard all, he said: "Do not fear, leave
it to me; I will settle everything."
He went and bought a large ox-hide, stretched it on the ground, and cut
off a piece of the tail, half an ear, and a small piece out of the side,
and then said to the abbot: "Now let us go to the king; and when he asks
your excellency how many stars there are in heaven, your excellency
will call me; I will stretch the hide on the ground, and your excellency
will say: 'The stars in heaven are as many as the hairs on this hide;
and as there are more hairs than stars, I have been obliged to cut off
part of the hide.'"
After the abbot had heard him, he felt relieved, ordered his carriage,
and took his servant to the king. When the king saw the abbot, he
saluted him, and then said: "Have you fulfilled my command?" "Yes, your
Majesty," answered the abbot, "the stars are all counted."
"Then tell me how many they are." The abbot called his servant, who
brought the hide, and spread it on the ground, while the king, not
knowing how the matter was going to end, continued his questioning.
When the servant had stretched out the hide, the abbot said to the king:
"Your Majesty, during these three days I have gone mad counting the
stars, and they are all counted." "In short, how many are they?" "Your
Majesty, the stars are as many as the hairs of this hide, and those that
were in excess, I have had to cut off, and they are so many hundreds of
millions; and if you don't believe me, have them counted, for I have
brought you the proof."
Then the king remained with his mouth open, and had nothing to answer;
he only said: "Go and live as long as Noah, without thoughts, for your
mind is enough for you;" and so speaking, he dismissed him, thanking
him, and remaining henceforth his best friend.
The abbot returned home with his servant, delighted and rejoicing. He
thanked his servant, made him his steward and intimate friend, and gave
him more than an ounce of money a day to live on.[1]
* * * * *
In another Sicilian version referred to by Pitre, vol. IV., p. 437, the
Pope, instead of the king, wishes to know from the abbot: "What is the
distance from heaven to earth; what God is doing in heaven; what the
Pope is thinking of." The cook, disguised as the abbot, answers: "As
long as this ball of thread. Rewarding the good, and punishing the
wicked. He thinks he is speaking with the abbot, and on the contrary, is
talking to the cook."
The following story from Venice (Bernoni, _Fiabe_, No. 6) is a
combination of the two stories in Grimm, "Clever Alice" and the "Clever
People." It is called:
XCIII. BASTIANELO.
Once upon a time there was a husband and wife who had a son. This son
grew up, and said one day to his mother: "Do you know, mother, I would
like to marry!" "Very well, marry! whom do you want to take?" He
answered: "I want the gardener's daughter." "She is a good girl; take
her; I am willing." So he went, and asked for the girl, and her parents
gave her to him. They were married, and when they were in the midst of
the dinner, the wine gave out. The husband said: "There is no more
wine!" The bride, to show that she was a good housekeeper, said: "I will
go and get some." She took the bottles and went to the cellar, turned
the cock, and began to think: "Suppose I should have a son, and we
should call him Bastianelo, and he should die. Oh! how grieved I should
be! oh! how grieved I should be!" And thereupon she began to weep and
weep; and meanwhile the wine was running all over the cellar.
When they saw that the bride did not return, the mother said: "I will go
and see what the matter is." So she went into the cellar, and saw the
bride, with the bottle in her hand, and weeping, while the wine was
running over the cellar. "What is the matter with you, that you are
weeping?" "Ah! my mother, I was thinking that if I had a son, and should
name him Bastianelo, and he should die, oh! how I should grieve! oh! how
I should grieve!" The mother, too, began to weep, and weep, and weep;
and meanwhile the wine was running over the cellar.
When the people at the table saw that no one brought the wine, the
groom's father said: "I will go and see what is the matter. Certainly
something wrong has happened to the bride." He went and saw the whole
cellar full of wine, and the mother and bride weeping. "What is the
matter?" he said; "has anything wrong happened to you?" "No," said the
bride, "but I was thinking that if I had a son and should call him
Bastianelo, and he should die, oh! how I should grieve! oh! how I should
grieve!" Then he, too, began to weep, and all three wept; and meanwhile
the wine was running over the cellar.
When the groom saw that neither the bride, nor the mother, nor the
father came back, he said: "Now I will go and see what the matter is
that no one returns." He went into the cellar and saw all the wine
running over the cellar. He hastened and stopped the cask, and then
asked: "What is the matter, that you are all weeping, and have let the
wine run all over the cellar?" Then the bride said: "I was thinking that
if I had a son and called him Bastianelo and he should die, oh! how I
should grieve! oh! how I should grieve!" Then the groom said: "You
stupid fools! are you weeping at this, and letting all the wine run into
the cellar? Have you nothing else to think of? It shall never be said
that I remained with you! I will roam about the world, and until I find
three fools greater than you I will not return home."
He had a bread-cake made, took a bottle of wine, a sausage, and some
linen, and made a bundle, which he put on a stick and carried over his
shoulder. He journeyed and journeyed, but found no fool. At last he
said, worn out: "I must turn back, for I see I cannot find a greater
fool than my wife." He did not know what to do, whether to go on or to
turn back. "Oh!" he said, "it is better to try and go a little farther."
So he went on and shortly he saw a man in his shirt-sleeves at a well,
all wet with perspiration and water. "What are you doing, sir, that you
are so covered with water and in such a sweat?" "Oh! let me alone," the
man answered, "for I have been here a long time drawing water to fill
this pail and I cannot fill it." "What are you drawing the water in?" he
asked him. "In this sieve," he said. "What are you thinking about, to
draw water in that sieve? Just wait!" He went to a house near by, and
borrowed a bucket, with which he returned to the well and filled the
pail. "Thank you, good man, God knows how long I should have had to
remain here!" "Here is one who is a greater fool than my wife."
He continued his journey and after a time he saw at a distance a man in
his shirt who was jumping down from a tree. He drew near, and saw a
woman under the same tree holding a pair of breeches. He asked them what
they were doing, and they said that they had been there a long time, and
that the man was trying on those breeches and did not know how to get
into them. "I have jumped, and jumped," said the man, "until I am tired
out and I cannot imagine how to get into those breeches." "Oh!" said the
traveller, "you might stay here as long as you wished, for you would
never get into them in this way. Come down and lean against the tree."
Then he took his legs and put them in the breeches, and after he had put
them on, he said: "Is that right?" "Very good, bless you; for if it had
not been for you, God knows how long I should have had to jump." Then
the traveller said to himself: "I have seen two greater fools than my
wife."
Then he went his way and as he approached a city he heard a great noise.
When he drew near he asked what it was, and was told it was a marriage,
and that it was the custom in that city for the brides to enter the city
gate on horseback, and that there was a great discussion on this
occasion between the groom and the owner of the horse, for the bride was
tall and the horse high, and they could not get through the gate; so
that they must either cut off the bride's head or the horse's legs. The
groom did not wish his bride's head cut off, and the owner of the horse
did not wish his horse's legs cut off, and hence this disturbance. Then
the traveller said: "Just wait," and came up to the bride and gave her a
slap that made her lower her head, and then he gave the horse a kick,
and so they passed through the gate and entered the city. The groom and
the owner of the horse asked the traveller what he wanted, for he had
saved the groom his bride, and the owner of the horse his horse. He
answered that he did not wish anything and said to himself: "Two and one
make three! that is enough; now I will go home." He did so and said to
his wife: "Here I am, my wife; I have seen three greater fools then you;
now let us remain in peace and think about nothing else." They renewed
the wedding and always remained in peace. After a time the wife had a
son whom they named Bastianelo, and Bastianelo did not die, but still
lives with his father and mother.[2]
* * * * *
There is a Sicilian version of this story (Pitre, No. 148) called, "The
Peasant of Larcara," in which the bride's mother imagines that her
daughter has a son who falls into the cistern. The groom (they are not
yet married) is disgusted and sets out on his travels with no fixed
purpose of returning if he finds some fools greater than his
mother-in-law, as in the Venetian tale. The first fool he meets is a
mother, whose child, in playing the game called _nocciole_,[R] tries to
get his hand out of the hole while his fist is full of stones. He
cannot, of course, and the mother thinks they will have to cut off his
hand. The traveller tells the child to drop the stones, and then he
draws out his hand easily enough. Next he finds a bride who cannot enter
the church because she is very tall and wears a high comb. The
difficulty is settled as in the former story.
[Footnote R: A game played with peach-pits, which are thrown into holes
made in the ground and to which certain numbers are attached.]
After a while he comes to a woman who is spinning and drops her spindle.
She calls out to the pig, whose name is Tony, to pick it up for her. The
pig does nothing but grunt, and the woman in anger cries: "Well, you
won't pick it up? May your mother die!"
The traveller, who had overheard all this, takes a piece of paper, which
he folds up like a letter, and then knocks at the door. "Who is there?"
"Open the door, for I have a letter for you from Tony's mother, who is
ill and wishes to see her son before she dies." The woman wonders that
her imprecation has taken effect so soon, and readily consents to Tony's
visit. Not only this, but she loads a mule with everything necessary for
the comfort of the body and soul of the dying pig.
The traveller leads away the mule with Tony, and returns home so pleased
with having found that the outside world contains so many fools that he
marries as he had first intended.
The credulity of the woman in the last version, in allowing Tony to
visit his sick mother, finds a parallel in a Neapolitan story (Imbriani,
_Pomiglianesi_, p. 226) called:
XCIV. CHRISTMAS.
Once upon a time there was a husband who had a wife who was a little
foolish. One day he said to her: "Come, put the house in order, for
Christmas is coming." As soon as he left the house his wife went out on
the balcony and asked every one who passed if his name was Christmas.
All said No; but finally, one--to see why she asked--said Yes. Then she
made him come in, and gave him everything that she had (in order to
clean out the house). When her husband returned he asked her what she
had done with things. She responded that she had given them to
Christmas, as he had ordered. Her husband was so enraged at what he
heard that he seized her and gave her a good beating.
Another time she asked her husband when he was going to kill the pig. He
answered: "At Christmas." The wife did as before, and when she spied the
man called Christmas she called him and gave him the pig, which she had
adorned with her earrings and necklace, saying that her husband had so
commanded her. When her husband returned and learned what she had done,
he gave her a sound thrashing; and from that time he learned to say
nothing more to his wife.[3]
In the Sicilian version, Pitre, No. 186, "Long May,"[S] the wife, who is
very anxious to make more room in her house by getting rid of the grain
stored in it, asks her husband when they shall clean out the house. He
answers: "When Long May comes." The wife asks the passers-by if they are
Long May; and at last a swindler says he is, and receives as a gift all
the grain. The swindler was a potter, and the woman told him that he
ought to give her a load of pots. He did so, and the wife knocked a hole
in the bottom of each, and strung them on a rope stretched across the
room. It is needless to say that when the husband returned the wife
received a beating "that left her more dead than alive."
[Footnote S: There is a Sicilian phrase: "Long as the month of May," to
indicate what is very long.]
Another story about foolish people is the following Venetian tale
(Bernoni, _Fiabe_, xiii.), entitled:
XCV. THE WAGER.
There was once a husband and a wife. The former said one day to the
latter: "Let us have some fritters." She replied: "What shall we do for
a frying-pan?" "Go and borrow one from my godmother." "You go and get
it; it is only a little way off." "Go yourself; I will take it back when
we are done with it." So she went and borrowed the pan, and when she
returned said to her husband: "Here is the pan, but you must carry it
back." So they cooked the fritters, and after they had eaten, the
husband said: "Now let us go to work, both of us, and the one who speaks
first shall carry back the pan." Then she began to spin and he to draw
his thread,--for he was a shoemaker,--and all the time keeping silence,
except that when he drew his thread he said: "_Leulero, leulero_;" and
she, spinning, answered: "_Picici, picici, picicio_." And they said not
another word.
Now there happened to pass that way a soldier with a horse, and he asked
a woman if there was any shoemaker in that street. She said that there
was one near by, and took him to the house. The soldier asked the
shoemaker to come and cut his horse a girth, and he would pay him. The
latter made no answer but: "_Leulero, leulero_," and his wife: "_Picici,
picici, picicio_." Then the soldier said: "Come and cut my horse a
girth, or I will cut your head off!" The shoemaker only answered:
"_Leulero, leulero_," and his wife: "_Picici, picici, picicio_." Then
the soldier began to grow angry, and seized his sword and said to the
shoemaker: "Either come and cut my horse a girth, or I will cut your
head off!"
But to no purpose. The shoemaker did not wish to be the first one to
speak, and only replied: "_Leulero, leulero_," and his wife: "_Picici,
picici, picicio_." Then the soldier got mad in good earnest, seized the
shoemaker's head, and was going to cut it off. When his wife saw that,
she cried out: "Ah! don't, for mercy's sake!" "Good!" exclaimed her
husband, "good! Now you go and carry the pan back to my godmother, and I
will go and cut the horse's girth." And so he did, and won the wager.
* * * * *
In a Sicilian story with the same title (Pitre, No. 181), the husband
and wife fry some fish, and then set about their respective
work,--shoemaking and spinning,--and the one who finishes first the
piece of work begun is to eat the fish. While they were singing and
whistling at their work, a friend comes along, who knocks at the door,
but receives no answer. Then he enters and speaks to them, but still no
reply; finally, in anger, he sits down at the table and eats up all the
fish himself.[4]
One of our most popular stories illustrating woman's obstinacy is found
everywhere in Italy. The following is the Sicilian version:
XCVI. SCISSORS THEY WERE.
Once upon a time there was a husband and a wife. The husband was a
tailor; so was the wife, and in addition was a good housekeeper. One
day the husband found some things in the kitchen broken,--pots, glasses,
plates. He asked: "How were they broken?" "How do I know?" answered the
wife. "What do you mean by saying 'how do I know?' Who broke them?" "Who
broke them? I, with the scissors," said the wife, in anger. "With the
scissors?" "With the scissors!" "Are you telling the truth? I want to
know what you broke them with. If you don't tell me, I will beat you."
"With the scissors!" (for she had the scissors in her hand). "Scissors,
do you say?" "Scissors they were!" "Ah! what do you mean? Wait a bit; I
will make you see whether it was you with the scissors." So he tied a
rope around her and began to lower her into the well, saying: "Come, how
did you break them? You see I am lowering you into the well." "It was
the scissors!" The husband, seeing her so obstinate, lowered her into
the well; and she, for all that, did not hold her tongue. "How did you
break them?" said the husband. "It was the scissors." Then her husband
lowered her more, until she was half way down. "What did you do it
with?" "It was the scissors." Then he lowered her until her feet touched
the water. "What did you do it with?" "It was the scissors!" Then he let
her down into the water to her waist. "What did you do it with?" "It was
the scissors!" "Take care!" cried her husband, enraged at seeing her so
obstinate, "it will take but little to put you under the water. You had
better tell what you did it with; it will be better for you. How is it
possible to break pots and dishes with the scissors! What has become of
the pieces, if they were cut?" "It was the scissors! the scissors!" Then
he let go the rope. Splash! his wife is all under the water. "Are you
satisfied now? Do you say any longer that it was with the scissors?" The
wife could not speak any more, for she was under the water; but what did
she do? She stuck her hand up out of the water, and with her fingers
began to make signs as if she were cutting with the scissors. What could
the poor husband do? He said: "I am losing my wife, and then I shall
have to go after her. I will pull her out now, and she may say that it
was the scissors or the shears." Then he pulled her out, and there was
no way of making her tell with what she had broken all those things in
the kitchen.[5]
* * * * *
Another familiar story is:
XCVII. THE DOCTOR'S APPRENTICE.
Once upon a time there was a doctor who took his apprentice with him
when he made his visits. One day while visiting a patient, the doctor
said: "Why do you not listen to my orders that you are not to eat
anything?" The invalid said: "Sir, I assure you that I have eaten
nothing." "That is not true," answered the doctor, "for I have found
your pulse beating like that of a person who has eaten grapes." The
patient, convicted, said: "It is true that I have eaten some grapes; but
it was only a little bunch." "Very well; do not risk eating again, and
don't think you can fool me."
The poor apprentice, who was with the doctor, was amazed to see how his
master guessed from the pulse that his patient had eaten grapes; and as
soon as they had left the house he asked: "Master, how did you perceive
that he had eaten grapes?" "Listen," said the doctor. "A person who
visits the sick must never pass for a fool. As soon as you enter, cast
your eyes on the bed and under the bed, too, and from the crumbs that
you see you can guess what the patient has eaten. I saw the stalk of the
grapes, and from that I inferred that he had eaten grapes."
The next day there were many patients in the town, and the doctor, not
being able to visit them all, sent his apprentice to visit a few. Among
others, the apprentice went to see the man who had eaten the grapes; and
wishing to play the part of an expert like his master, to show that he
was a skilful physician, when he perceived that there were bits of straw
under the bed, said angrily: "Will you not understand that you must not
eat?" The invalid said: "I assure you that I have not even tasted a
drop of water." "Yes, sir, you have," answered the apprentice; "you have
been eating straw, for I see the bits under the bed." The sick man
replied at once: "Do you take me for an ass like yourself?" And so the
apprentice cut the figure of the fool that he was.[6]
* * * * *
There are two figures in Sicilian folk-lore around whom many jokes have
gathered which are, in other parts of Italy, told of some nameless
person or attributed to the continental counterparts of the insular
heroes. These two are Firrazzanu and Giufa. The former is the practical
joker; the second, the typical booby found in the popular literature of
all peoples.
The following stories of Firrazzanu (unless otherwise indicated) are
from Pitre, No. 156.
XCVIII. FIRRAZZANU'S WIFE AND THE QUEEN.
Firrazzanu was the valet of a prince in Palermo, on whom he also played
his tricks; but as Firrazzanu was known and everybody was amused by him,
the prince overlooked them.
The queen was once in Palermo, and wished to know Firrazzanu. He went to
see her, and amused her somewhat. The queen said: "Are you married, or
single?" "Married, your Majesty." "I wish to make your wife's
acquaintance." "How can that be, your Majesty, for my wife is deaf?"
(Firrazzanu made this up out of his own head, for it was not true.) "No
matter; when I speak with her I will scream. Go, have your wife come
here."
Firrazzanu went home. "Fanny, the queen wants to know you; but you must
remember that she is a little hard of hearing, and if you wish to speak
to her, you must raise your voice."
"Very well," said his wife, "let us go." When they arrived at the palace
she said to the queen, in a loud voice: "At your Majesty's feet!" The
queen said to herself: "You see, because she is deaf, she screams as if
everybody else were deaf!" Then she said to her, loudly: "Good day, my
friend; how do you do?" "Very well, your Majesty!" answered Firrazzanu's
wife, still louder. The queen, to make herself heard, raised her voice
and screamed, also, and Fanny, for her part, cried out louder and
louder, so that it seemed as if they were quarrelling. Firrazzanu could
contain himself no longer, and began to laugh, so that the queen
perceived the joke; and if Firrazzanu had not run away, perhaps she
would have had him arrested, and who knows how the matter had ended?[7]
* * * * *
The second story, "The Tailor who twisted his Mouth," has already been
mentioned in Chapter III.
On one occasion (No. 7) the viceroy gave a feast, and needed some
partridges. Now the word _pirnicana_ means both partridge and humpback;
so Firrazzanu said he would get the viceroy as many _pirnicani_ as he
wanted, although they were very scarce. The viceroy said twenty would
do. Firrazzanu then collected a score of humpbacks and introduced them
into the viceroy's kitchen, sending word to the viceroy that the
_pirnicani_ were ready. His excellency wished to see them, and
Firrazzanu led his troop to his apartment. When they were all in,
Firrazzanu said: "Here they are." The viceroy looked around and said:
"Where?" "Here. You wanted _pirnicani_, and these are _pirnicani_." The
viceroy laughed, gave each of the humpbacks a present, and dismissed
them.[8]
Another time, while the prince was at dinner, Firrazzanu led a number of
asses under his window, and made them bray so that the poor prince was
driven almost to distraction. The author of the joke, as usual, took to
his heels, and escaped.
Once a very wealthy prince, having a great number of rents to collect,
and not succeeding, thought of making Firrazzanu collector. "Here," said
he to him, "take my authority, and collect for me, and I will give you
twenty per cent." Firrazzanu went into the places where the rents were
to be collected, and called together all the debtors. What do you
suppose he did? He made them pay his share, that is, twenty per cent.,
and nothing more. "The rest," he said, "you can pay another year to the
prince; now you may depart."
Then he went back to the prince. "What have you done, Firrazzanu? Have
you collected all the rents?" "What are you talking about collecting! I
had hard work to collect my share." "What do you mean?" "I collected
with difficulty the twenty per cent. that belonged to me; your share
will be paid next year." The prince was obliged to laugh at last, and
Firrazzanu went away happy and satisfied.[9]
Another time the prince went hunting, and ordered Firrazzanu, when it
was convenient, to tell the princess that he should not be home to
dinner that day. Firrazzanu did not find it convenient to deliver the
message for a week, when he said that the prince would not be home to
dine that day. On the first occasion, of course, the princess waited for
her husband in great anxiety until midnight; on the second she went out
to pay visits, and when the prince returned, he found his wife out, and
no dinner prepared. Firrazzanu, when scolded, excused himself by saying
that the prince told him to deliver the message when convenient.
This recalls the story in Straparola (XIII. 6) where a master orders his
lazy servant to go to market and buy some meat, and says to him,
sarcastically: "Go and stay a year!" which command the servant obeys to
the letter.
The viceroy at last, angry at one of Firrazzanu's jokes, banished him to
the town of Murriali. When Firrazzanu grew tired of the place, he had a
cart filled with the earth of the town, and rode into Palermo on it. The
viceroy had him arrested as soon as he saw him, but Firrazzanu protested
that he had not broken the viceroy's command, for he was still on the
earth of Murriali.
The same story is told of Gonnella, the Italian counterpart of
Firrazzanu, by Sacchetti (Nov. 27), and Bandello (IV. 18).
The prince desired once to give Firrazzanu a lesson that would correct
him of his fondness for jokes; so he told the commandant of the castle
that he would send him one day a servant of his with a letter, and that
he, the commandant, should carry out the orders contained in it.
A week after, the prince called Firrazzanu and said: "Go to the
commandant of the castle and ask him to give you what this letter says."
Firrazzanu went, turning over the letter and in doubt about the matter.
Just then he met another servant and said to him: "Carry this letter for
me to the commandant of the castle, and tell him to give you what he has
to give you. When you return, we will have a good drink of wine."
The servant went and delivered the letter to the commandant, who opened
it, and read: "The commandant will give my servant, who is a rascal, a
hundred lashes, and then send him back to me." The order was carried
out, and the poor servant returned to the palace more dead than alive.
When Firrazzanu saw him, he burst out laughing, and said: "My brother,
for me and for you, better you than me."
This story is told in Gonzenbach (No. 75) as the way in which the queen
tried to punish Firrazzanu for the joke he played on her by telling her
his wife was deaf.
There are other stories told of Firrazzanu, but they do not deserve a
place here, and we can direct our attention at once to Giufa, the
typical booby, who appears in the various provinces of Italy under
different names.[10]
The first story told of him in Pitre's collection (No. 190) is:
XCIX. GIUFA AND THE PLASTER STATUE.
Once upon a time there was a very poor woman who had a son called Giufa,
who was stupid, lazy, and cunning. His mother had a piece of cloth, and
said one day to Giufa: "Take this cloth, and go and sell it in a distant
town, and take care to sell it to those who talk little." So Giufa set
out, with the cloth on his shoulder.
When he came to a town, he began to cry: "Who wants cloth?" The people
called him, and began to talk a great deal; one thought it coarse,
another dear. Giufa thought they talked too much, and would not sell it
to them. After walking a long way, he entered a court-yard where he
found nothing but a plaster image. Giufa said to it: "Do you want to buy
the cloth?" The statue said not a word, and Giufa, seeing that it spoke
little, said: "Now I must sell you the cloth, for you speak little;" and
he took the cloth and hung it on the statue, and went away, saying:
"To-morrow I will come for the money."
The next day he went after the money, and found the cloth gone. "Give me
the money for the cloth." The statue said nothing. "Since you will not
give me the money, I will show you who I am;" and he borrowed a mattock,
and struck the statue until he overthrew it, and inside of it he found a
jar of money. He put the money in a bag, and went home to his mother,
and told her that he had sold the cloth to a person who did not speak,
and gave him no money; that he had killed him with a mattock, and thrown
him down, and he had given him the money which he had brought home. His
mother, who was wise, said to him: "Say nothing about it, and we will
eat this money up little by little."[11]
Another time his mother said to him: "Giufa, I have this piece of cloth
to be dyed; take it and leave it with the dyer, the one who dyes green
and black." Giufa put it on his shoulder, and went off. On his way he
saw a large, beautiful snake, and because it was green he said to it:
"My mother has sent me with this cloth which she wants dyed. To-morrow I
will come for it." And there he left it.
He went home and told his mother, who began to tear her hair. "Ah!
shameless fellow! how you ruin me! Hasten and see whether it is there
still!" Giufa went back, but the cloth had disappeared.[12]
C. GIUFA AND THE JUDGE.
One day Giufa went out to gather herbs, and it was night before he
returned. On his way back the moon rose through the clouds, and Giufa
sat down on a stone and watched the moon appear and disappear behind the
clouds, and he exclaimed constantly: "It appears, it appears! it sets,
it sets!"
Now there were near the way some thieves, who were skinning a calf which
they had stolen, and when they heard: "It appears, it sets!" they feared
that the officers of justice were coming, so they ran away and left the
meat. When Giufa saw the thieves running away, he went to see what it
was and found the calf skinned. He took his knife and cut off flesh
enough to fill his sack and went home. When he arrived there his mother
asked him why he came so late. He said it was because he was bringing
some meat which she was to sell the next day, and the money was to be
kept for him. The next day his mother sent him into the country and sold
the meat.
In the evening Giufa returned and asked his mother: "Did you sell the
meat?" "Yes, I sold it to the flies on credit." "When will they give you
the money?" "When they get it." A week passed and the flies brought no
money, so Giufa went to the judge and said to him: "Sir, I want justice.
I sold the flies meat on credit and they have not come to pay me." The
judge said: "I pronounce this sentence on them: wherever you see them
you may kill them." Just then a fly lighted on the judge's nose, and
Giufa dealt it such a blow that he broke the judge's head.
* * * * *
The anecdote of the fly in the latter part of the story is found
independently in a version from Palermo. "The flies plagued Giufa and
stung him. He went to the judge and complained of them. The judge
laughed and said: 'Wherever you see a fly you can strike it.' While the
judge was speaking a fly rested on his face and Giufa dealt it such a
blow that he broke the judge's nose."
This story, which, as we shall see, has variants in different parts of
Italy, is of Oriental origin and is found in the _Pantschatantra_. A
king asked his pet monkey to watch over him while he slept. A bee
settled on the king's head; the monkey could not drive it away, so he
took the king's sword and killed the bee--and the king, too. A similar
parable is put into the mouth of Buddha. A bald carpenter was attacked
by a mosquito. He called his son to drive it away; the son took the axe,
aimed a blow at the insect, but split his father's head in two, in
killing the mosquito. In the _Anvar-i-Suhaili_, the Persian translation
of the _Pantschatantra_, it is a tame bear who keeps the flies from the
sleeping gardener by throwing a stone at his head.[13]
The only popular European versions of this story, as far as we know, are
found in Italy. Besides those from Sicily, there are versions from
Florence, Leghorn, and Venice. The first is called:
CI. THE LITTLE OMELET.
Once upon a time there was a little woman who had a little room and a
little hen. The hen laid an egg and the little woman took it and made a
little omelet of it, and put it to cool in the window. Along came a fly
and ate it up. Imagine what an omelet that must have been! The little
woman went to the magistrate and told him her story. He gave her a club
and told her to kill the fly with it wherever she saw it. At that moment
a fly lighted on the magistrate's nose, and the woman, believing it to
be the same fly, gave it a blow and broke the magistrate's nose.
The versions from Leghorn and Venice are in almost the same words.[14]
The literary versions are quite abundant, four or five being found in
Italy, and a number in France, the best known of which is La Fontaine's
fable of "The Bear and the Amateur Gardener," Book VIII. 10.[15]
One morning, before Giufa was up, he heard a whistle and asked his
mother who was passing. She answered that it was the morning-singer. One
day Giufa, tired of the noise, went out and killed the man who was
blowing the whistle, and came back and told his mother that he had
killed the morning-singer. His mother went out and brought the body into
the house and threw it into the well, which happened to be dry. Then she
remembered that she had a lamb, which she killed and also threw in the
well.
Meanwhile the family of the murdered man had learned of the murder and
had gone to the judge, with their complaint, and all together went to
Giufa's house to investigate the matter. The judge said to Giufa: "Where
did you put the body?" Giufa, who was silly, replied: "I threw it in the
well." Then they tied Giufa to a rope and lowered him into the well.
When he reached the bottom he began to feel around and touched wool, and
cried out to the son of the murdered man: "Did your father have wool?"
"My father did not have wool." "This one has wool; he is not your
father." Then he touched the tail: "Did your father have a tail?" "My
father did not have a tail." "Then it's not your father." Then he felt
four feet and asked: "How many feet did your father have?" "My father
had two feet." Giufa said: "This one has four feet; he is not your
father." Then he felt the head and said: "Did your father have horns?"
"My father did not have horns." Giufa replied: "This one has horns; he
is not your father." Then the judge said: "Giufa, bring him up either
with the horns or with the wool." So they drew up Giufa with the lamb on
his shoulder, and when the judge saw that it was a real lamb, they set
Giufa at liberty.
In a variant of the above story Giufa's mother, to get rid of him, one
day tells him to take his gun and go off and shoot a cardinal-bird.
Giufa asks what a cardinal is, and his mother tells him that it is one
that has a red head. Giufa, of course, shoots a cardinal and carries him
home. The remainder of the story is as above. In another variant Giufa's
mother has a cock which she cooks one day, and Giufa, who had never
eaten anything of the kind before, likes it greatly and asks what it
is. His mother tells him it is the night-singer. One evening Giufa saw a
poor man singing behind a door, and thinking he was a night-singer,
killed him and carried him home. The rest of the story is like the first
version.[16]
Giufa is not without an occasional gleam of wit, as is shown in the
following story (Pitre No. 190, Sec. 8), entitled:
CII. EAT, MY CLOTHES!
As Giufa was half a simpleton no one showed him any kindness, such as to
invite him to his house or give him anything to eat. Once Giufa went to
a farm-house for something, and the farmers, when they saw him looking
so ragged and poor, came near setting the dogs on him, and made him
leave in a hurry. When his mother heard it she procured for him a fine
coat, a pair of breeches, and a velvet vest. Giufa dressed up like an
overseer, went to the same farm-house, and then you should see what
great ceremonies they made! they invited him to dine with them. While at
the table all were very attentive to him. Giufa, on the one hand, filled
his stomach, and on the other, put into his pockets, coat, and hat
whatever was left over, saying: "Eat, my clothes, for you were invited!"
* * * * *
It is interesting to note that this story is told of no less a person
than Dante, about whom cluster more popular traditions than many are
aware of. It is the subject of one of Sercambi's novels, and will be
found with many other interesting traditions of the great poet in
Papanti's _Dante secondo la Tradizione e i Novellatori_, Leghorn,
1873.[17]
Giufa was not a very safe person to leave alone in the house. Once his
mother went to church and told him to make some porridge for his little
sister. Giufa made a great kettle of boiling porridge and fed it to the
poor child and burned her mouth so that she died. On another occasion
his mother, on leaving home, told him to feed the hen that was sitting
and put her back on the nest, so that the eggs should not get cold.
Giufa stuffed the hen with the food until he killed her, and then sat on
the eggs himself until his mother returned.[18]
Giufa's mother went to mass once and said to him: "Pull the door to!"
When his mother had gone out Giufa took hold of the door and began to
pull it, and pulled and pulled until it came off. Giufa put it on his
back and carried it to the church, and threw it down before his mother,
saying: "There is the door!"[19]
A number of other stories about Giufa are found in Gonzenbach (No. 37)
which we give here for completeness.
CIII. GIUFA'S EXPLOITS.
After Giufa had scalded his little sister to death, his mother drove him
from the house, and he entered the service of a priest. "What wages do
you want?" asked the priest. "One egg a day, and as much bread as I can
eat with it; and you must keep me in your service until the screech-owl
cries in the ivy." The priest was satisfied and thought he could not
find such a cheap servant again. The next morning Giufa received his egg
and a loaf of bread. He opened the egg and ate it with a pin, and every
time he licked off the pin he ate a great piece of bread. "Bring me a
little more bread," he cried; "this is not enough;" and the priest had
to get him a large basket of bread.
So it was every morning. "Alas for me!" cried the priest; "in a few
weeks he will reduce me to beggary." It was winter then and would be
several months until the screech-owl cried in the ivy. In despair the
priest said to his mother: "This evening you must hide in the ivy and
scream like an owl." The old woman did as she was told and began to cry:
"Miu, miu!" "Do you hear, Giufa?" said the priest, "the screech-owl is
crying in the ivy; we must part." So Giufa took his bundle and was going
to return to his mother.
As he was going by the place where the priest's mother was still crying
"Miu, miu," he exclaimed: "O you cursed screech-owl suffer punishment
and sorrow!" and threw stones into the ivy and killed the old woman.
Giufa's mother would not allow him to remain at home, and made him take
service as a swineherd with a farmer, who sent him into the woods to
keep the swine until they were fat and then drive them back. So Giufa
lived several months in the woods until the swine were fat. As he was
driving them home he met a butcher and said to him: "Would you like to
buy these swine? I will sell them to you at half price if you will give
me back the ears and tails." The butcher bought the whole herd, and paid
Giufa the money, together with the ears and tails.
Giufa then went to a bog near by and planted two ears close together and
three spans off a tail, and so with all of them. Then he ran in great
trouble to the farmer and cried: "Sir, imagine what a great misfortune
has happened to me. I had fattened your swine beautifully and was
driving them home when they fell into a bog and are all swallowed up in
it. The ears and tails only are still sticking out." The farmer hastened
with all his people to the bog, where the ears and tails still stuck
out. They tried to pull the swine out, but whenever they seized an ear
or a tail it came right off and Giufa exclaimed: "You see how fat the
swine were: they have disappeared in the marsh from pure fatness." The
farmer was obliged to return home without his swine, while Giufa took
the money home to his mother and remained a time with her.
One day his mother said to him: "Giufa, we have nothing to eat to-day;
what shall we do?" "Leave it to me," said he, and went to a butcher.
"Gossip, give me half a _rotulu_ of meat; I will give you the money
to-morrow." The butcher gave him the meat and he went in the same way to
the baker, the oil-merchant, the wine-dealer, and the cheese-merchant
and took home to his mother the meat, macaroni, bread, oil, wine, and
cheese which he had bought on credit, and they ate together merrily.
The next day Giufa pretended he was dead and his mother wept and
lamented. "My son is dead, my son is dead!" He was put in an open
coffin and carried to the church and the priests sang the mass for the
dead over him. When, however, every one in the city heard that Giufa was
dead, the butcher, the baker, the oil-merchant, and the wine-dealer
said: "What we gave him yesterday is as good as lost. Who will pay us
for it now?" The cheese-dealer, however, thought: "Giufa, it is true,
owes me only four _grani_[T] but I will not give them to him. I will go
and take his cap from him." So he crept into the church, but there was
still a priest there praying over Giufa's coffin. "As long as the priest
is there, it is not fitting for me to take his cap," thought the
cheese-merchant, and hid himself behind the altar. When it was night the
last priest departed and the cheese-merchant was on the point of coming
out from his hiding-place when a band of thieves rushed into the church.
They had stolen a large bag of money and were going to divide it in the
dark church. They quarrelled over the division and began to cry out and
make a noise. Thereupon Giufa sat up in his coffin and exclaimed: "Out
with you!" The thieves were greatly frightened when the dead man rose
up, and believed he was calling to the other dead, so they ran out in
terror, leaving the sack behind. As Giufa was picking up the sack, the
cheese-merchant sprang from his hiding-place and claimed his share of
the money. Giufa, however, kept crying: "Your share is four _grani_."
The thieves outside thought he was dividing the money among the dead and
said to each other: "How many he must have called if they receive but
four _grani_ apiece!" and ran away as fast as they could run. Giufa took
the money home to his mother, after he had given the cheese-merchant a
little to say nothing about what had happened.
[Footnote T: About a cent and a half.]
Giufa's mother once bought a large stock of flax and said to her son:
"Giufa, you can surely spin a little so as to be doing something." Giufa
took a skein from time to time, and instead of spinning it put it in the
fire and burned it. Then his mother became angry and beat him. What did
Giufa do then? He took a bundle of twigs and wound it with flax like a
distaff; then he took a broom for a spindle and sat himself on the roof
and began to spin. While he was sitting there three fairies came by and
said: "Just see how nicely Giufa is sitting there and spinning. Shall we
not give him something?" The first fairy said: "I will enable him to
spin as much flax in a night as he touches." The second said: "I will
enable him to weave in a night as much yarn as he has spun." The third
said: "I will enable him to bleach all the linen he has woven in one
night." Giufa heard this and at night when his mother had gone to bed,
he got behind her stock of flax, and as often as he touched a skein it
was at once spun. When the flax was all gone he began to weave, and as
soon as he touched the loom the linen began to roll from it. Finally he
spread the linen out and had scarcely wet it a little when it was
bleached. The next morning Giufa showed his mother the fine pieces of
linen, and she sold them and earned much money. Giufa continued this for
several nights; finally he grew tired and wanted to go out to service
again.
He found a place with a smith, whose bellows he was to blow. He blew
them so hard, however, that he put the fire out. The smith said: "Leave
off blowing and hammer the iron on the anvil." But Giufa pounded on the
anvil so hard that the iron flew into a thousand pieces. Then the smith
became angry, but he could not send him away, for he had agreed to keep
him a year. So he went to a poor man and said: "I will make you a
handsome present if you will tell Giufa that you are Death, and that you
have come to take him away." The poor man met Giufa one day, and said
what the smith had told him. Giufa was not slow. "What, are you Death?"
cried he, seized the poor man, put him in his sack, and carried him to
the smithy. There he laid him on the anvil and began to hammer away on
him. "How many years shall I yet live?" he asked, while he was
hammering. "Twenty years," cried the man in the sack. "That is not near
enough." "Thirty years, forty years, as long as you will," screamed the
man; but Giufa kept on hammering until the poor man was dead.
The bishop once announced to the whole town that every goldsmith should
make him a crucifix, and he would pay four hundred ounces for the most
beautiful one. Whoever brought a crucifix that did not please him must
lose his head. So a goldsmith came and brought him a handsome crucifix,
but the bishop said it did not please him and had the poor man's head
cut off, but kept the crucifix. The next day a second goldsmith came,
who brought a still handsomer crucifix, but it went no better with him
than with the first. This lasted for some time and many a poor man lost
his head. When Giufa heard of this he went to a goldsmith and said:
"Master, you must make me a crucifix with a very thick body, but
otherwise as fine as you can make it." When the crucifix was done Giufa
took it on his arm and carried it to the bishop. Scarcely had the bishop
seen it when he cried out: "What are you thinking of, to bring me such a
monster? Wait, you shall pay me for it!" "Ah, worthy sir," said Giufa,
"just hear me and learn what has happened to me. This crucifix was a
model of beauty when I started with it; on the way it began to swell
with anger and the nearer your house I came the more it swelled, most of
all when I was mounting your stairs. The Lord is angry with you on
account of the innocent blood that you have shed, and if you do not at
once give me the four hundred ounces and an annuity to each of the
goldsmiths' widows, you, too, will swell in the same way, and God's
wrath will visit you." The bishop was frightened and gave him the four
hundred ounces, and bade him send all the widows to him so that he could
give each of them a yearly pension. Giufa took the money and went to
each widow and said: "What will you give me if I will procure you an
annuity from the bishop?" Each gave him a handsome sum and Giufa took
home to his mother a great heap of money.
One day Giufa's mother sent him to another town, where there was a fair.
On the way some children met him, who asked: "Where are you going,
Giufa?" "To the fair." "Will you bring me back a whistle?" "Yes!" "And
me, too?" "Yes!" "Me, too?" "Me, too?" asked one after the other, and
Giufa said "Yes" to all. At last there was a child who said: "Giufa,
bring me a whistle, too. Here is a penny." When Giufa came back from the
fair, he brought one whistle only and gave it to the last boy. "Giufa,
you promised each of us one," cried the other children. "You did not
give me a penny to buy it with," answered Giufa.[20]
* * * * *
The counterpart of Giufa is found in a Venetian story (Bernoni, _Fiabe_,
No. 11) entitled "The Fool," which is, in substance, as follows:
CIV. THE FOOL.
Once upon a time there was a mother who had a son with little brains.
One morning she said: "We must get up early, for we have to make bread."
So they both rose early and began to make bread. The mother made the
loaves, but took no pains to make them the same size. Her son said to
her finally: "How small you have made this loaf, mother!" "Oh!" said
she, "it does not matter whether they are big or little; for the proverb
says: 'Large and small, all must go to mass.'" "Good, good!"
When the bread was made, instead of carrying it to the baker's, the son
took it to the church, for it was the hour for mass, saying: "My mother
said that, 'Large and small, all must go to mass.'" So he threw the
loaves down in the middle of the church. Then he went home to his mother
and said: "I have done what you told me to do." "Good! did you take the
bread to the baker's?" "Oh! mother, if you had seen how they all looked
at me!" "You might also have cast an eye on them in return," said his
mother. "Wait, wait, I will cast an eye at them, too," he exclaimed, and
went to the stable and cut out the eyes of all the animals, and putting
them in a handkerchief, went to the church and when any man or woman
looked at him he threw an eye at them.
When his mother learned what he had done she took to her bed and sent
her son for a physician. When the doctor came he felt her pulse and
said: "Oh! how weak this poor woman is!" Then he told the son that he
must take good care of his mother and make her some very thin broth and
give her a bowlful every minute. The son promised to obey him and went
to the market and bought a sparrow and put on the fire a pail of water.
When it boiled he put in the sparrow and waited until it boiled up two
or three times, and then took a bowl of the broth to his mother, and
repeated the dose as fast as he could.
The next day the physician found the poor woman weaker than ever, and
told her son he must put something heavy on her so as to throw her into
a perspiration. When the doctor had gone the son piled all the heavy
furniture in the room on her, and when she could no longer breathe he
ran for the doctor again. This time the doctor saw that nothing was to
be done, and advised her son to have her confess and prepare for death.
So her son dressed her and carried her to church and sat her in the
confessional and told the priest that some one was waiting for him and
then went home. The priest soon saw that the woman was dead and went to
find her son. When the son heard that his mother was dead, he declared
that the priest had killed her, and began to beat him.[21]
* * * * *
There are many stories in Italy which turn on the tricks played by a
sharper on his credulous friends; a good specimen of the class is the
following from Sicily (Pitre, No. 157):
CV. UNCLE CAPRIANO.
There was once a husband and wife who had a daughter. The man's name was
Uncle Capriano and he owned near the town a piece of property, where he
always worked. One day thirteen robbers happened to pass that way, saw
Uncle Capriano, dismounted, and began to talk with him, and soon formed
a friendship for him. After this they frequently went to divert
themselves with him. When they arrived they always saluted him with:
"Good day, Uncle Capriano," and he answered: "Your servant, gentlemen;
what are your worships doing?" "We have come to amuse ourselves. Go,
Uncle Capriano, go and lunch, for we will do the work meanwhile." So he
went and ate and they did his work for him. Finally, what do you suppose
Uncle Capriano tried to do? He sought to invent some way to get money
from the robbers. When he went home he said to his wife: "I am on
friendly terms with the robbers and I would like to see whether I can
get a little money out of them, and I have invented this story to tell
them: that we have a rabbit, which I send home alone every evening with
fire-wood and things for soup, which my wife cooks." Then he said to his
daughter: "When I come with the thieves, you bathe the rabbit in water
and come out of the door to meet me and say: 'Is that the way to load
the poor little rabbit so that it comes home tired to death?'"
When the thieves heard that he had a rabbit that carried things, they
wanted it, saying: "If we had it we could send it to carry money, food,
and other things to our houses." Uncle Capriano said to them one day: "I
should like to have you come to my house to-day." There were thirteen of
the thieves; one said Yes, another said No. The captain said: "Let us go
and see the rabbit." When they arrived at the house the daughter came to
the door and said: "Is that the way to load the poor little rabbit so
that it comes home tired to death?" When they entered the house all felt
of the rabbit and exclaimed: "Poor little animal! poor little animal! it
is all covered with sweat." When the thieves saw this they looked at
each other and said: "Shall we ask him to give us this little rabbit?"
Then they said: "Uncle Capriano, you must give us the rabbit without any
words, and we will pay you whatever you ask." He answered: "Ask me for
anything except this rabbit, for if I give you that I shall be ruined."
They replied: "You must give it to us without further words, whether you
are ruined or not." Finally Uncle Capriano let them have the rabbit for
two hundred ounces, and they gave him twenty besides to buy himself a
present with. After the thieves had got possession of the rabbit, they
went to a house in the country to try it. They each took a bag of money
and said: "Let us send a bag to each of our houses." The captain said:
"First, carry a bag to mine." So they took the rabbit to load it, and
after they had put the bags on it, the rabbit could not move and one of
the thieves struck it on the haunch with a switch. Then the rabbit ran
away instantly. The thieves went in great anger to Uncle Capriano and
said: "Did you have the boldness to play such a trick on us, to sell us
a rabbit that could not stir when we put a few bags of money on it?"
"But, gentlemen," said the old man, "did you beat it?" "Of course,"
answered one of the thieves, "my companion struck it with a switch on
the haunch." The old man asked: "But where did you strike it, on the
right or on the left haunch?" "On the left." "That is why the rabbit ran
away," said the old man. "You should have hit it on the right. If you
did not observe these conditions, what fault is it of mine?" "This is
true," said the thieves, "Uncle Capriano is right; so go and eat and we
will attend to the work." And so their friendship was not broken this
time.
After a time Uncle Capriano said to his wife: "We must get some more
money from the thieves." "In what way?" "To-morrow you must buy a new
pot, and then you must cook in an old pot somewhere in the house, and at
Ave Maria, just before I come home, you must empty the old pot into the
new one, and put it on the hearth without any fire. To-morrow I will
tell the thieves that I have a pot that cooks without any fire."
The next evening Uncle Capriano persuaded the thieves to go home with
him. When they saw the pot they looked at one another and said: "We must
ask him to give it to us." After some hesitation, he sold it to them for
four hundred ounces, and twenty over as before.
When the thieves arrived at their house in the country, they killed a
fine kid, put it into the pot, and set it on the hearth, without any
fire, and went away. In the evening they all ran and tried to see who
would arrive first, and find the meat cooked. The one who arrived first
took out a piece of meat, and saw that it was as they had left it. Then
he gave the pot a kick, and broke it in two. When the others came and
found the meat not cooked, they started for Uncle Capriano's, and
complained to him that he had sold them a pot that cooked everything,
and that they had put meat into it, and found it raw. "Did you break the
pot?" asked Uncle Capriano. "Of course we broke it." "What kind of a
hearth did you have, high or low?" One of the thieves answered: "Rather
high." "That was why the pot did not cook; it should have been low. You
did not observe the conditions and broke the pot; what fault is that of
mine?" The thieves said: "Uncle Capriano is right; go, Uncle Capriano,
and eat, for we will do your work."
Some time after, Uncle Capriano said again to his wife: "We must get
some more money out of them." "But how can we manage it?" "You know that
we have a whistle in the chest; have it put in order, and to-morrow go
to the butcher's, and get a bladder of blood, and fix it about your
neck, and put on your mantilla; and when I return home, let me find you
sitting down and angry, and the candle not lighted. I will bring my
friends with me, and when I find the candle not lighted, I will begin to
cry out, and you will not utter a word; then I will take my knife and
cut your throat. You will fall down on the floor; the blood will run out
of the bladder, and the thieves will believe that you are dead. You"
(turning to his daughter)--"what I say I mean, when I tell you: 'Get the
whistle'--get it and give it to me. When I blow it three times, you"
(speaking to his wife) "will get up from the floor. When the thieves see
this operation they will want the whistle, and we will get another six
hundred ounces from them."
[Everything took place as Uncle Capriano had arranged; the thieves paid
him six hundred ounces, and twenty over as usual, and then went home and
killed their wives, to try the whistle on them. The rage of the thieves
can be imagined when they found they had been deceived again. In order
to avenge themselves, they took a sack and went to Uncle Capriano, and
without any words seized him, put him in it, and taking him on a horse,
rode away. They came after a time to a country-house, where they stopped
to eat, leaving Uncle Capriano outside in the bag.]
Uncle Capriano, who was in the bag, began to cry: "They want to give me
the king's daughter, and I don't want her!" There happened to be near by
a herdsman, who heard what he was saying about the king's daughter, and
he said to himself: "I will go and take her myself." So he went to Uncle
Capriano and said: "What is the matter with you?" "They want to give me
the king's daughter, and I don't want her, because I am married." The
herdsman said: "I will take her, for I am single; but how can we arrange
it?" Uncle Capriano answered: "Take me out, and get into the bag
yourself." "That is a good idea," said the herdsman; so he set Uncle
Capriano at liberty, and got into the bag himself. Uncle Capriano tied
him fast, took his crook, and went to tend the sheep. The herdsman soon
began to cry: "They want to give me the king's daughter. I will take
her, I will take her!" In a little while the thieves came and put the
bag on a horse, and rode away to the sea, the herdsman crying out all
the time: "They want to give me the king's daughter. I will take her, I
will take her!" When they came to the sea, they threw the bag in, and
returned home. On their way back, they happened to look up on the
mountain, and exclaimed: "See there! is that not Uncle Capriano?" "Yes,
it is." "How can that be; did we not throw him into the sea, and is he
there now?" Then they went to him and said: "How is this, Uncle
Capriano, didn't we throw you in the sea?" "Oh! you threw me in near the
shore, and I found these sheep and oxen; if you had thrown me in farther
out, I would have found many more." Then they asked Uncle Capriano to
throw them all in, and they went to the sea, and he began to throw them
in, and each said: "Quick, Uncle Capriano, throw me in quickly before my
comrades get them all!" After he had thrown them all in, Uncle Capriano
took the horses and sheep and oxen, and went home and built palaces, and
became very rich, and married his daughter, and gave a splendid
banquet.[22]
* * * * *
A very interesting class of stories is found in Pitre (Nos. 246-270)
illustrating proverbial sayings. The first, on the text "The longer one
lives, the more one learns," relates that a child came to an old man and
asked for some coals to light a fire with. The old man said he would
willingly give them, but the child had nothing to carry them in. The
child, however, filled his palm with ashes, put a coal on them, and went
away. The old man gave his head a slap, and exclaimed: "With all my
years and experience, I did not know this thing. 'The longer one lives,
the more one learns.'" And from that time these words have remained for
a proverb.
Another (No. 252) recalls one of Giufa's pranks. A husband, to test his
wife and friend, who is a bailiff, throws a goat's head into the well,
and tells the wife that he has killed a person and cut off the head to
prevent the body from being recognized. The wife promises secrecy, but
soon tells the story to her friend, who denounces the supposed murderer
to the judge. The house is entered by an arbor, from which they climb
into a window, and the husband is arrested and taken to the well, which
a bailiff descends, and finds the goat's head. The husband explains his
trick, which gave rise to the saying: "Do not confide a secret to a
woman; do not make a bailiff your friend, and do not rent a house with
an arbor."[23]
Another shows how the stories of classic times survive among the people.
Nero, a wicked king, goes about in disguise to hear what the people say
of him. One day he meets an old woman in the field, and when Nero's name
is mentioned, instead of cursing him as others do, she says: "May God
preserve him." She explains her words by saying that they have had
several kings, each worse than the other, and now they have Nero, who
tears every son from his mother, wherefore may God guard and preserve
him, for "There is no end to evil."[24]
There was once a whimsical prince who thought he could arrange the world
and animals as he pleased and overcome Nature. He taught his horse to
devour flesh and his dogs to eat grass. He trained an ass to dance and
accompany himself by his braying: in short, the prince boasted that by
means of Art one could rule Nature. Among other things he trained a cat
to stand on the table and hold a lighted candle while he was eating. No
matter what was brought on the table, the cat never moved, but held the
candle as if it had been a statue of wood. The prince showed the cat to
his friends and said, boastingly: "Nature is nothing; my art is more
powerful and can do this and other things." His friends often said that
everything must be true to its nature; "Art departs and Nature
prevails." The prince invited them to make any trial they wished,
asserting that the cat would never forget the art he had taught it. One
of his friends caught a mouse one day and wrapped it up in a
handkerchief and carried it with him to the prince's. When the cat heard
and saw the mouse, it dropped the candlestick and ran after the mouse.
The friend began to laugh, and said to the prince, who stood with his
mouth wide open with amazement: "Dear prince, I always told you Art
departs and Nature prevails!"
This story is told of Dante and Cecco d' Ascoli, the former playing the
role of the prince.[25]
To counterbalance the stories of foolish people which have been related
above, we will conclude this chapter with some stories of clever people,
stories which were popular as long ago as the Middle Ages.
The first is from Sicily (Gonz., No. 50) and is called:
CVII. THE CLEVER PEASANT.
There was once a king who, while hunting, saw a peasant working in the
fields and asked him: "How much do you earn in a day?" "Four _carlini_,
your Majesty," answered the peasant. "What do you do with them?"
continued the king. The peasant said: "The first I eat; the second I
put out at interest; the third I give back, and the fourth I throw
away."
The king rode on, but after a time the peasant's answer seemed very
curious to him, so he returned and asked him: "Tell me, what do you mean
by eating the first _carlino_, putting the second out to interest,
giving back the third, and throwing away the fourth?" The peasant
answered: "With the first I feed myself; with the second I feed my
children, who must care for me when I am old; with the third I feed my
father, and so repay him for what he has done for me, and with the
fourth I feed my wife, and thus throw it away, because I have no profit
from it." "Yes," said the king, "you are right. Promise me, however,
that you will not tell any one this until you have seen my face a
hundred times." The peasant promised and the king rode home well
pleased.
While sitting at table with his ministers, he said: "I will give you a
riddle: A peasant earns four _carlini_ a day; the first he eats; the
second he puts out at interest; the third he gives back, and the fourth
he throws away. What is that?" No one was able to answer it.
One of the ministers remembered finally that the king had spoken the day
before with the peasant, and he resolved to find the peasant and obtain
from him the answer. When he saw the peasant he asked him for the answer
to the riddle, but the peasant answered: "I cannot tell you, for I have
promised the king to tell no one until I have seen his face a hundred
times." "Oh!" said the minister, "I can show you the king's face," and
drew a hundred coins from his purse and gave them to the peasant. On
every coin the king's face was to be seen of course. After the peasant
had looked at each coin once, he said: "I have now seen the king's face
a hundred times, and can tell you the answer to the riddle," and told
him it.
The minister went in great glee to the king and said: "Your Majesty, I
have found the answer to the riddle; it is so and so." The king
exclaimed: "You can have heard it only from the peasant himself," had
the peasant summoned, and took him to task. "Did you not promise me not
to tell it until you had seen my face a hundred times?" "But, your
Majesty," answered the peasant, "your minister showed me your picture a
hundred times." Then he showed him the bag of money that the minister
had given him. The king was so pleased with the clever peasant that he
rewarded him, and made him a rich man for the rest of his life.[26]
CVIII. THE CLEVER GIRL.
Once upon a time there was a huntsman who had a wife and two children, a
son and a daughter; and all lived together in a wood where no one ever
came, and so they knew nothing about the world. The father alone
sometimes went to the city and brought back the news. The king's son
once went hunting and lost himself in that wood, and while he was
seeking his way it became night. He was weary and hungry. Imagine how he
felt! But all at once he saw a light shining at a distance. He followed
it and reached the huntsman's house and asked for lodging and something
to eat. The huntsman recognized him at once and said: "Highness, we have
already supped on our best. But if we can find anything for you, you
must be satisfied with it. What can we do? We are so far from the towns,
that we cannot procure what we need every day." Meanwhile he had a capon
cooked for him. The prince did not wish to eat it alone, but called all
the huntsman's family, and gave the head of the capon to the father, the
back to the mother, the legs to the son, and the wings to the daughter,
and ate the rest himself. In the house there were only two beds, in the
same room. In one the husband and wife slept, in the other the brother
and sister. The old people went and slept in the stable, giving up their
bed to the prince. When the girl saw that the prince was asleep, she
said to her brother: "I will wager that you do not know why the prince
divided the capon among us in the manner he did." "Do you know? Tell me
why." "He gave the head to papa because he is the head of the family,
the back to mamma because she has on her shoulders all the affairs of
the house, the legs to you because you must be quick in performing the
errands which are given you, and the wings to me to fly away and catch a
husband." The prince pretended to be asleep; but he was awake and heard
these words, and perceived that the girl had much judgment; and as she
was also pretty, he fell in love with her.
The next morning he left the huntsman's; and as soon as he reached the
court, he sent him, by a servant, a purse of money. To the young girl he
sent a cake in the form of a full moon, thirty patties, and a cooked
capon, with three questions: "Whether it was the thirtieth of the month
in the wood, whether the moon was full, and whether the capon crowed in
the night." The servant, although a trusty one, was overcome by his
gluttony and ate fifteen of the patties, and a good slice of the cake,
and the capon. The young girl, who had understood it all, sent back word
to the prince that the moon was not full but on the wane; that it was
only the fifteenth of the month and that the capon had gone to the mill;
and that she asked him to spare the pheasant for the sake of the
partridge. The prince, too, understood the metaphor, and having summoned
the servant, he cried: "Rogue! you have eaten the capon, fifteen
patties, and a good slice of the cake. Thank that girl who has
interceded for you; if she had not, I would have hung you."
A few months after this, the huntsman found a gold mortar, and wished to
present it to the prince. But his daughter said: "You will be laughed at
for this present. You will see that the prince will say to you: 'The
mortar is fine and good, but, peasant, where is the pestle?'" The father
did not listen to his daughter; but when he carried the mortar to the
prince, he was greeted as his daughter had foretold. "My daughter told
me so," said the huntsman. "Ah! if I had only listened to her!" The
prince heard these words and said to him: "Your daughter, who pretends
to be so wise, must make me a hundred ells of cloth out of four ounces
of flax; if she does not I will hang you and her." The poor father
returned home weeping, and sure that he and his daughter must die, for
who could make a hundred ells of cloth with four ounces of flax. His
daughter came out to meet him, and when she learned why he was weeping,
said: "Is that all you are weeping for? Quick, get me the flax and I
will manage it." She made four small cords of the flax and said to her
father: "Take these cords and tell him that when he makes me a loom out
of these cords I will weave the hundred ells of cloth." When the prince
heard this answer he did not know what to say, and thought no more about
condemning the father or the daughter.
The next day he went to the wood to visit the girl. Her mother was dead,
and her father was out in the fields digging. The prince knocked, but no
one opened. He knocked louder, but the same thing. The young girl was
deaf to him. Finally, tired of waiting, he broke open the door and
entered: "Rude girl! who taught you not to open to one of my rank? Where
are your father and mother?" "Who knew it was you? My father is where he
should be and my mother is weeping for her sins. You must leave, for I
have something else to do than listen to you." The prince went away in
anger and complained to the father of his daughter's rude manners, but
the father excused her. The prince, at last seeing how wise and cunning
she was, married her.
The wedding was celebrated with great splendor, but an event happened
which came near plunging the princess into misfortune. One Sunday two
peasants were passing a church; one of them had a hand-cart and the
other was leading a she-ass ready to foal. The bell rang for mass and
they both entered the church, one leaving his cart outside and the other
tying the ass to the cart. While they were in the church the ass foaled,
and the owner of the ass and the owner of the cart both claimed the
colt. They appealed to the prince, and he decided that the colt belonged
to the owner of the cart, because, he said, it was more likely that the
owner of the ass would tie her to the cart in order to lay a false claim
to the colt than that the owner of the cart would tie it to the ass.
The owner of the ass had right on his side, and all the people were in
his favor, but the prince had pronounced sentence and there was nothing
to say. The poor man then applied to the princess, who advised him to
cast a net in the square when the prince passed. When the prince saw the
net, he said: "What are you doing, you fool? Do you expect to find fish
in the square?" The peasant, who had been advised by the princess,
answered: "It is easier for me to find fish in the square than for a
cart to have foals." The prince revoked the sentence, but when he
returned to the palace, knowing that the princess had suggested the
answer to the peasant, he said to her: "Prepare to return to your own
home within an hour. Take with you what you like best and depart." She
was not at all saddened by the prospect, but ate a better dinner than
usual, and made the prince drink a bottle of wine in which she had put a
sleeping potion; and when he was as sound asleep as a log, she had him
put in a carriage and took him with her to her house in the wood. It was
in January, and she had the roof of the house uncovered and it snowed on
the prince, who awoke and called his servants: "What do you wish?" said
the princess. "I command here. Did you not tell me to take from your
house the thing I liked best? I have taken you, and now you are mine."
The prince laughed and they made peace.[27]
* * * * *
The next story is the Italian version of the tale familiar to the
readers of Grimm by the title of "Doctor Knowall." There is a Sicilian
version in Pitre, No. 167, in which our story forms one of several
episodes. It is found, however, independently in the Mantuan collection
from which we take it, changing the name slightly to suit the conclusion
of the story.
CIX. CRAB.
There was once a king who had lost a valuable ring. He looked for it
everywhere, but could not find it. So he issued a proclamation that if
any astrologer could tell him where it was he would be richly rewarded.
A poor peasant by the name of Crab heard of the proclamation. He could
neither read nor write, but took it into his head that he wanted to be
the astrologer to find the king's ring. So he went and presented himself
to the king, to whom he said: "Your Majesty must know that I am an
astrologer, although you see me so poorly dressed. I know that you have
lost a ring and I will try by study to find out where it is." "Very
well," said the king, "and when you have found it, what reward must I
give you?" "That is at your discretion, your Majesty." "Go, then, study,
and we shall see what kind of an astrologer you turn out to be."
He was conducted to a room, in which he was to be shut up to study. It
contained only a bed and a table on which were a large book and writing
materials. Crab seated himself at the table and did nothing but turn
over the leaves of the book and scribble the paper so that the servants
who brought him his food thought him a great man. They were the ones who
had stolen the ring, and from the severe glances that the peasant cast
at them whenever they entered, they began to fear that they would be
found out. They made him endless bows and never opened their mouths
without calling him "Mr. Astrologer." Crab, who, although illiterate,
was, as a peasant, cunning, all at once imagined that the servants must
know about the ring, and this is the way his suspicions were confirmed.
He had been shut up in his room turning over his big book and scribbling
his paper for a month, when his wife came to visit him. He said to her:
"Hide yourself under the bed, and when a servant enters, say: 'That is
one;' when another comes, say: 'That is two;' and so on." The woman hid
herself. The servants came with the dinner, and hardly had the first one
entered when a voice from under the bed said: "That is one." The second
one entered; the voice said: "That is two;" and so on. The servants were
frightened at hearing that voice, for they did not know where it came
from, and held a consultation. One of them said: "We are discovered; if
the astrologer denounces us to the king as thieves, we are lost." "Do
you know what we must do?" said another. "Let us hear." "We must go to
the astrologer and tell him frankly that we stole the ring, and ask him
not to betray us, and present him with a purse of money. Are you
willing?" "Perfectly."
So they went in harmony to the astrologer, and making him a lower bow
than usual, one of them began: "Mr. Astrologer, you have discovered that
we stole the ring. We are poor people and if you reveal it to the king,
we are undone. So we beg you not to betray us, and accept this purse of
money." Crab took the purse and then added: "I will not betray you, but
you must do what I tell you, if you wish to save your lives. Take the
ring and make that turkey in the court-yard swallow it, and leave the
rest to me." The servants were satisfied to do so and departed with a
low bow. The next day Crab went to the king and said to him: "Your
Majesty must know that after having toiled over a month I have succeeded
in discovering where the ring has gone to." "Where is it, then?" asked
the king. "A turkey has swallowed it." "A turkey? very well, let us
see."
They went for the turkey, opened it, and found the ring inside. The
king, amazed, presented the astrologer with a large purse of money and
invited him to a banquet. Among the other dishes, there was brought on
the table a plate of crabs. Crabs must then have been very rare, because
only the king and a few others knew their name. Turning to the peasant
the king said: "You, who are an astrologer, must be able to tell me the
name of these things which are in this dish." The poor astrologer was
very much puzzled, and, as if speaking to himself, but in such a way
that the others heard him, he muttered: "Ah! Crab, Crab, what a plight
you are in!" All who did not know that his name was Crab rose and
proclaimed him the greatest astrologer in the world.[28]
NOTES.
INTRODUCTION.
[1] There are some popular tales, chiefly Oriental in their origin, in
the _Cente novelle antiche_ (see the notes to Chapter III.), and
Boccaccio and his imitators undoubtedly made use of popular material.
These popular elements, however, are almost exclusively of the class of
jests. The fairy tale, which constitutes by far the largest and most
important class of popular tales, is not found in European literature
until Straparola. For a few earlier traces of fairy tales in mediaeval
literature, see an article by the writer, "Two Mediaeval Folk-Tales," in
the _Germania_, XVIII. [New Series], p. 203.
[2] The little that is known of Straparola and a very complete
bibliography of his _Piacevoli Notti_ will be found in an excellent
monograph entitled, _Giovan Francesco Straparola da Caravaggio_,
Inaugural-Dissertation von F. W. J. Brakelmann aus Soest, Goettingen,
1867. Straparola's work, especially the unexpurgated editions, is
scarce, and the student will ordinarily be obliged to consult it in the
French translation of Louveau and Larivey, of which there is an
excellent edition in the _Bibliotheque Elzevirienne_ of P. Jannet,
Paris, 1857. There is a German translation with valuable notes of the
_maerchen_ contained in the _Piacevoli Notti_ by F. W. Val. Schmidt,
Berlin, 1817. Schmidt used, without knowing it, an expurgated edition,
and translated eighteen instead of twenty-two popular tales.
[3] The reader will find all the necessary references to Straparola's
borrowed materials in Liebrecht's translation of Dunlop's History of
Fiction, pp. 283, 493; in Brakelmann's dissertation above cited; in the
French version in the _Bib. Elzevir._; and in Grimm, II. 477.
[4] A comparison of Straparola's tales with those of Grimm, and an
analysis of those lacking in Schmidt's translation, will be found in
Grimm, II. 477-481.
[5] The imitations of Straparola will be found in Dunlop-Liebrecht, p.
284. It is impossible to say with absolute certainty that Perrault
borrowed his "_Chat Botte_" and "_Peau d'Ane_" from Straparola. It is,
however, quite likely. Perrault's stories appeared 1694-97, and twelve
editions of the French translation of Straparola had been issued before
that date.
[6] The few details of Basile's life will be found in Grimm, II. 481,
Liebrecht's translation, II. p. 316, and Taylor's translation, p. v. An
article in a recent number of the periodical named from Basile, vol. II.
p. 17, gives the conflicting testimony of a number of Italian writers as
to Basile's birth and death. The writer has discovered a mention of
Basile's burial in the church of St. Sophia at Giugliano, near Naples,
and in a record of deaths kept in the same town, an entry stating that
Basile died there on the 23d of February, 1632. The following are all
the editions of which I can find mention: Naples, 1637, 8vo, 1644, 12mo,
1645, 1674, 1694 (Graesse), 1697 (Pitre), 1714, 1722, 1728, 1747, 1749
(Liebrecht), 1788, _Collezione di Tutti i Poemi_, etc.; Rome, 1679, 1797
(Pitre). Italian translations appeared at Naples in 1754, 1769, 1784,
and 1863, and in Bolognese at Bologna, 1742, 1813, 1872, and at Venice
in 1813. The editions used in the preparation of this work will be found
in the Bibliography. In spite of the numerous editions above cited, the
_Pentamerone_ is a very scarce work, and the scholar will usually have
to content himself with Liebrecht's excellent translation. Thirty-one of
the fifty stories have been admirably translated by John Edward Taylor,
London, 1848, 1850. The _Pentamerone_ suffered the same fate as the
_Piacevoli Notti_. It was not known, for instance, in Germany, until
Fernow described it in his _Roemische Studien_, Zuerich, 1808, vol. III.
pp. 316, 475, although Wieland had taken the material for his "Pervonte"
from the third story of the first day.
[7] The frame of the _Pentamerone_ is the story of the "False Bride:"
see Gonz., Nos. 11, 12; Pitre, No. 13; Imbriani, "_'E Sette
Mane-Mozze_;" and Hahn, Nos. 12, 49. Grimm, II. p. 483, gives the
stories in the _Pent._ which have parallels among his own _Kinder- und
Hausmaerchen_. The notes to Liebrecht's translation are to be
supplemented by the same author's additional notes in his translation of
Dunlop, p. 515.
[8] This story is usually printed with Perrault's tales, but its author
was really Mlle. Lheritier. See the latest edition of Perrault's tales,
_Les Contes de Charles Perrault_, par Andre Lefevre, Paris, Lemerre,
1875, p. xli.
[9] See Dunlop-Liebrecht, p. 408 _et seq._; and Grimm, II. p. 489 _et
seq._
[10] References to four of the five stories will be found as follows:
I., Pitre, vol. IV. pp. 372, 375; II., Pitre, _ibid._ p. 381; III.,
_Nov. fior._ pp. 93, 112, Pitre, No. 36; V., Pitre, vol. IV. p. 391. The
two editions of Naples, 1684 and 1751, are extremely scarce and the
student will be obliged to have recourse to the edition of 1789,
contained in the _Collezione di tutti li poeti in lingua Napoletana_.
[11] Pitre, vol. I. p. xliii., mentions some other names, as, _rumanzi_
by the inhabitants of Termini, and _pugaret_ by the Albanian colonists.
To these may be added another Milanese appellation, _panzanega_.
[12] Other endings are given by Imbriani, _Pomiglianesi_, p. 129:--
Cuccurucu,
No' noe n' cchiu.
(Cuccurucu, there is no more.)
Cuccurucu.
Sa' 'o vuo' cchiu bello, t' o dice tu.
(Cuccurucu, if you want it finer, tell it yourself.) See also Pitre,
vol. I. p. 196, note 2. The most curious introductions and endings are
those in De Nino, _Usi e Costumi abruzzesi_, vol. III. There is no
general formula, but each _fiaba_ has one of its own. Some are
meaningless jingles, but others are quite extensive poems on religious
subjects. Among these may be found legends of various saints, St.
Nicholas, p. 335, etc.
[13] An interesting article might be written on the Italian
story-tellers, generally illiterate women, from whose lips the stories
in the modern collections have been taken down. Some details may be
found in Pitre, vol. I. p. xvii. (repeated in Ralston's article in
_Fraser's Magazine_).
[14] Any attempt at an explanation of these facts would lead into the
vexed question of the origin and diffusion of popular tales in general.
We cannot refrain, however, from calling attention to a remark by
Nerucci in the preface to his _Nov. pop. montalesi_, p. v. He thinks
that the Italian popular tale will be found to have much the same origin
as the Italian popular poetry, that is, that very much is of a literary
origin which has usually been deemed popular. This is undoubtedly true
of many stories; but may not two versions of a given story, a popular
and a literary one, have had a source common to both? A very interesting
study might be made of the Italian popular tales in their relation to
literary versions which may be the originals.
The most valuable contributions to the question of the origin of Italian
popular tales are those by Pitre in the first volume of his _Fiabe_, pp.
xli.-cxlv., and in the same author's _Nov. pop. tosc._ pp. v.-xxxviii.
CHAPTER I.
FAIRY TALES.
[1] This story is a variant of Pitre, No. 17, _Marvizia_ (the name of
the heroine who was as small as a _marva_, the mallow plant), in which
the introduction is wanting. The heroine falls in love with a green bird
she sees in her garden, and goes in search of it. After many adventures,
she restores the bird to its former human shape and marries it. Other
Italian versions of the story in the text are: Sicilian, Pitre, No.
281, _Nuovo Saggio_, V.; Gonz., No. 15; Neapolitan, _Pent._ II. 9, V. 4;
Comp., No. 33 (from the Basilicata); Roman, Busk, p. 99; Tuscan, De
Gub., _Sto. Stefano_, No. 14; and Tyrolese, Schneller, No. 13.
An important trait in the above class is "Tasks set Wife." Besides in
the above stories, this trait is also found in those belonging to other
classes: see De Gub., _Sto. Stefano_, No. 2, and _Nov. fior._ p. 209.
Another important trait is the following: When after a long search the
wife discovers her husband, it is only to find him in the power of a
second wife, who, however, by various bribes, is induced to permit the
first wife to spend a night in her husband's chamber. She is unable to
awaken her husband, who has been drugged by the second wife. The third
night she succeeds, makes herself known to him, and they escape. As an
example of this trait, we give in full De Gub., _Sto. Stefano_, No. 14,
referred to above.
XX. SIR FIORANTE, MAGICIAN.
A woodman had three daughters. Every morning one after the other, in
turn, carried him his bread to the wood. The father and the daughters
noticed in a thicket a large snake, which one day asked the old man for
one of his daughters in marriage, threatening him with death if none of
them would accept such an offer. The father told his daughters of the
snake's offer, and the first and second immediately refused. If the
third had refused too, there would have been no hope of salvation for
the father; but for his sake she declared at once that snakes had always
pleased her, and she thought the snake proposed by her father very
handsome. At this the snake shook his tail in token of great joy, and
making his bride mount it, carried her away to the midst of a beautiful
meadow, where he caused a splendid palace to arise while he himself
became a handsome man, and revealed himself as Sir Fiorante with the red
and white stockings. But woe to her if she ever disclosed to any one his
existence and name! She would lose him forever, unless, to obtain
possession of him again, she wore out a pair of iron shoes, a staff and
a hat, and filled with her tears seven bottles. The maiden promised; but
she was a woman; she went to visit her sisters; one of them wished to
know her husband's name, and was so cunning that at last her sister told
her, but when the poor girl went back to see her husband, she found
neither husband nor palace. To find him again, she was obliged in
despair to do penance. She walked and walked and walked, and wept
unceasingly. She had already filled one bottle with tears, when she met
an old woman who gave her a fine walnut to crack in time of need, and
disappeared. When she had filled four bottles, she met another old
woman, who gave her a hazel-nut to crack in time of need, and
disappeared. She had filled all seven bottles when a third old woman
appeared to her, and left her an almond to be cracked in a third case
of need, and she, too, disappeared. At last the young girl reached the
castle of Sir Fiorante, who had taken another wife. The girl broke first
the walnut, and found in it a beautiful dress which the second wife
wanted herself. The young girl said: "You may have it if you will let me
sleep with Sir Fiorante." The second wife consented, but meanwhile she
gave Sir Fiorante some opium. In the night, the young girl said: "Sir
Fiorante with the red and white stockings, I have worn out a pair of
iron shoes, the staff and the hat, and filled seven bottles with tears,
wherefore you must recognize your first wife."
He made no answer, for he had taken opium. The next day the girl opened
the hazel-nut, and out came a dress more beautiful than the first; Sir
Fiorante's second wife wanted this, and obtained it on the same
condition as the first, but took care that Sir Fiorante should take some
opium before going to bed. The third day, a faithful servant asked Sir
Fiorante if he had not heard in the night the cries that were uttered
near him. Sir Fiorante replied, No, but was careful not to take any
opium the third night, when, having broken the almond and found in it a
dress of unapproachable beauty, the young girl obtained the second
wife's consent to sleep anew with Sir Fiorante. The latter pretended
this time to take the opium, but did not. Then he feigned to be asleep,
but remained awake in order to hear the cries of his abandoned wife,
which he could not resist, and began to embrace her. The next day they
left that palace to the second wife, and departed together and went to
live in happiness at another more wonderful castle.
* * * * *
This episode is found in the _Pent._ V. 3, otherwise not belonging to
this class; and in Comp., No. 51, and _Nov. fior._ p. 168, which
properly belong to the formula of "Animal Children."
Hahn's formula No. 6, in which a maiden sells herself for three costly
presents, and is obliged to marry the buyer, is sufficiently illustrated
by Gonz., No. 18, Pitre, No. 105, and Nerucci, No. 50. In the last story
the person to whom the maiden has sold herself refuses to marry her.
The wedding torch is found also in Pitre, No. 17, and is clearly a
survival of the classic custom. The episode in which the birth of the
child is hindered recalls the myths of Latona and Alcmene, see Koehler's
notes to Gonz., No. 12 (II. p. 210). Other cases of malicious arrest of
childbirth in popular literature may be found in Child's _English and
Scottish Pop. Ballads_, Part I. p. 84. Pandora's box is also found in
_Pent._ V. 4.
Copious references to other Europeans versions of our story will be
found in Koehler's notes to Gonz., No. 15 (II. 214), and to Blade,
_Contes pop. rec. en Agenais_, p. 145, to which may be added the notes
to the Grimm stories Nos. 88, 113, 127 ("The Soaring Lark," "The Two
Kings' Children," and "The Iron Stove"), and Benfey, _Pant._ I. p. 255.
[2] The lamp lighted at night to enable the wife to see her husband is
found in Pitre, No. 82, and in a Calabrian story in De Gub., _Zool.
Myth._ II. 286-287, where the drop of wax falls on the mirror of the
sleeping youth. The same incident occurs in the curious story of "The
Enchanted Palace," in Comp., No. 27, which is simply a reversal of the
Cupid and Psyche myth, and in which the husband is the curious one, and
the drop of wax falls on the sleeping wife, and awakens her.
The "iron shoes" are found in Comp., No. 51; Pitre, No. 56; _Pent._ V.
4; De Gub., _Sto. Stefano_, No. 14; Gradi, _Vigilia_, p. 26; and Ortoli,
p. 8. See also Hahn, Nos. 73, 102, and _Basque Legends_, p. 39.
[3] See Koehler to Gonz., No. 16; Dunlop-Liebrecht, p. 406 (_Anmerkung._
475, and _Nachtrag_, p. 544); Graesse, _Sagen-Kreise_, p. 380; Benfey,
I. 254; and Simrock, _D.M._ pp. 332, 391, 427.
[4] Other Italian versions of this story are: Nerucci, Nos. 33, 59;
Comparetti, No. 27 (Monferrato), mentioned already in Note 2; and
Schneller, No. 13. Pitre, No. 27, has some points of contact also with
our story.
[5] Nerucci, No. 1, and _Nov. fior._ p. 319. For the story of "Beauty
and the Beast" in general, see Ralston's article with this title in the
_Nineteenth Century_, No. 22, December, 1878; and notes to Schiefner's
_Tibetan Tales_, London, 1882, p. xxxvii.
[6] The following versions all contain the episodes of the father asking
his daughters what gifts he shall bring them, and daughter's tardy
return to the monster: Busk, p. 115; Gradi, _Saggio_, p. 189;
Comparetti, No. 64 (Montale); and _Zooel. Myth._ II. p. 382 (Leghorn),
with which compare _Indian Fairy Tales_, p. 292. In _Fiabe Mant._ No.
24, we have father's gifts and sympathetic ring; but the danger to
monster does not depend on the tardiness of his bride. In _Zool. Myth._
II. p. 381 (Piedmont), we have father's gift; but danger to monster
results from wife's revealing his name to her sisters. Schneller, No.
25, contains the usual introduction (father's gifts), but the monster, a
snake, accompanies his bride on her visit home, and while they are
dancing together she steps on his tail and crushes it, whereupon the
snake becomes a handsome young man. A Sicilian story, "Zafarana" (Gonz.,
No. 9), contains both episodes above mentioned, but otherwise differs
from the class of stories we are now examining.
Closely allied with the formula of "Beauty and the Beast" is that of
"Animal Children." In the latter class the introduction (father's gift)
is wanting, and also the episode of visit of wife and tardy return. The
"animal child" is usually born in accordance with a rash wish of
childless mother that she might have a son, even if he were like one of
the animals which she happens to see (Hahn, Formula No. 7). When the
"animal child" is grown up his parents attempt to obtain a wife for him;
two of three sisters show their disgust and are killed; the third is
more prudent, and ultimately disenchants her husband, usually by
burning his skin, which he puts on and off at pleasure. The typical
story of this class is Pitre, No. 56, "The Serpent." To Pitre's copious
references may be added: Comparetti, No. 9 (Monferrato), in which the
prince resumes his shape after his third marriage without any further
means of disenchantment; No 66 (Monferrato), the prince takes off seven
skins, and from a dragon becomes a handsome youth. In both these stories
the prince is enchanted and not born in accordance with mother's wish.
Gianandrea, p. 15, is a version of Comp., No. 9. Corazzini, p. 429
(Benevento), belongs more properly to "Beauty and the Beast;" the
husband disappears on wife's revealing to his mother the secret of his
being a handsome youth by night. A somewhat similar version is in Prato,
No. 4, "_Il Re Serpente_." See also Finamore, _Nov. pop. abruzzesi_,
Nos. 6, 21, and _Archivio_, I. 424 (Piedmont), 531 (Tuscany); II. 403
(Marches); III. 362 (Abruzzi).
For other references to this class see Koehler's notes to Widter-Wolf,
_Jahrb._ VII. p. 249; Benfey, _Pant._ I. p. 265 _et seq._; and notes to
Grimm, Nos. 108 ("Hans the Hedgehog") and 144 ("The Little Ass").
[7] Other Italian versions may be found in Pitre, No. 38; Gonz., No. 27;
_Pent._ II. 2; Busk, pp. 46, 57, and 63; _Fiabe Mant._ Nos. 3 and 17;
_Nov. tosc._ 4; and Schneller, No. 21. _Pent._ II. 5, contains many
points of resemblance, although it belongs to the class of "Animal
Children."
Two very close non-Italian versions are Asbj., No. 84, "The Green
Knight" [_Tales from the Fjeld_, p. 311, "The Green Knight"], and Hahn,
No. 7, "The Golden Wand."
An important episode in the above stories is "sick prince and secret
remedy." This is found in stories belonging to other classes, as for
example in Schneller, 9, 10, 11; in 10 the princess is ill, in 11 there
is simply the "overheard council of witches;" _Nov. fior._ pp. 599, 601
(princess ill), and Comp., No. 8 (sick prince).
The above trait is found in the class of stories which may be named
"True and Untrue," and of which Grimm, No. 107, "The Two Travellers," is
a good example. Italian versions may be found in Widter-Wolf, No. 1
(_Jahrb._ VII. p. 3); Nerucci, No. 23; Ive, _Nozze Ive-Lorenzetto_, p.
31, "_La Curona del Gran Giegno_." Non-Italian versions will be found in
Koehler's notes to Widter-Wolf, and Ive's notes to above cited story.
[8] This class is named by Hahn from Genevieve de Brabant, whose legend
may be found in _Dict. des Legendes_, p. 396, and, with copious
references, in D'Ancona's _Sacre Rappresentazioni_, III. p. 235.
[9] The title of the original is "_Li figghi di lu Cavuliciddaru_," "The
Herb-gatherer's Daughters."