This is a modern-English version of Roman Legends: A collection of the fables and folk-lore of Rome, originally written by Busk, Rachel Harriette. It has been thoroughly updated, including changes to sentence structure, words, spelling, and grammar—to ensure clarity for contemporary readers, while preserving the original spirit and nuance. If you click on a paragraph, you will see the original text that we modified, and you can toggle between the two versions.

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Nieuw ontworpen voorkant.

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Original Title Page.

ROMAN LEGENDS
A COLLECTION OF
THE FABLES AND FOLK-LORE
OF
ROME
BY
R. H. BUSK
AUTHOR OF ‘SAGAS FROM THE FAR EAST’ &c. ‘HOUSEHOLD STORIES FROM THE LAND OF HOFER’ &c.
BOSTON
Copyright and published by
ESTES AND LAURIAT
1877

[v]

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PREFACE.

I had heard it so often positively asserted that modern Italy had no popular mythology, and no contribution of special versions to offer to the world’s store of Traditionary Tales, that, while possessing every opportunity, I was many years without venturing to set myself against the prevailing opinion so far as to attempt putting it to the proof.

I had heard so many people confidently say that modern Italy had no popular mythology and no unique versions to add to the world's collection of traditional tales that, despite having every chance, I spent many years not daring to challenge the widely held belief enough to put it to the test.

A certain humble friend, however, used time after time so to impress me with the fancy that she had all the qualifications for being a valuable repository of such lore if it only existed, that I was finally led to examine her on the subject. She gave me a capital opportunity one day when, during a visit to a bedridden cripple whom she nursed, she was flapping the dust off the pictures and ornaments with a feather-brush according to the Roman idea of dusting. ‘I never do any dusting,’ she said the while, ‘but I always think of Monsignor Delegato dusting the altar of the holy house of Loreto. And now I think of it, he was not called Monsignor Delegato, but Monsignor Commissario. But every evening of my life while I was young and living at Loreto, I have seen him dust the altar of the Santa Casa at 23 o’clock,1 before they shut [vi]up the church, saying a Salve Regina for the benefactors of the spot.’ If she was so familiar with Loreto, I concluded, and had so noticed and remembered its customs, probably she was not ignorant of its Legends either, and I commenced my inquisition at once.

A certain humble friend of mine repeatedly tried to convince me that she had all the qualifications to be a great source of knowledge on the subject if such knowledge existed. This finally prompted me to ask her about it. One day, while visiting a bedridden man she cared for, she was dusting off the pictures and decorations with a feather brush in the traditional Roman way. “I never do any dusting,” she said during this, “but I always think of Monsignor Delegato dusting the altar of the holy house of Loreto. Now that I think about it, he wasn't called Monsignor Delegato, but Monsignor Commissario. Every evening during my youth at Loreto, I watched him dust the altar of the Santa Casa at 11 PM, right before they closed the church, reciting a Salve Regina for the benefactors of the place.” Since she seemed so known with Loreto and had clearly observed and remembered its customs, I figured she probably knew its Legends too, so I immediately began my questioning.

I have not given her Legends of Loreto in the text because, being tolerably familiar, they were among those which could best be sacrificed to the exigencies of space. I gathered on that day, however, one version of S. Giovanni Bocca d’oro, with two stories of Padre Filippo: and her subsequent testimony concerning the crucifix of Scirollo came in usefully (pp. 193, 195) in illustration of the Legend of Pietro Bailliardo; but, what was precious to me above all, I gained the proof and earnest that there was certainly a vein of legendary lore underlying the classic soil of Rome, and that it only remained to find the means of working it.

I haven't included Legends of Loreto in the text because they are fairly well-known and could be skipped due to space constraints. However, on that day, I did collect one version of S. Giovanni Bocca d’oro, along with two stories about Padre Filippo; her later comments about the crucifix of Scirollo were helpful (pp. 193, 195) in illustrating the Legend of Pietro Bailliardo. But what mattered most to me was that I found clear evidence that there is definitely a rich vein of legendary stories beneath the classic surface of Rome, and it's just a matter of figuring out how to access it.

I first lazily set myself to hunt through the bookshops, new and old, to find any sort of collection of traditionary tales ready made; but only with the effect of establishing the fact that no Italian Grimm had yet arisen to collect and organise them, and put them into available shape.2

I initially relaxed while searching through both new and used bookstores for any collection of traditional tales that was ready-made; but I only ended up confirming that no Italian version of Grimm had emerged to gather, organize, and present them in a usable format.2

It is true the erudite and indefatigable Cesare Cantù has found time in the midst of his more important labours [vii]to illustrate some few remnants of mediæval customs and sayings yet lingering in the north of Italy, in his ‘Novelle Lombarde;’ and he tells me that the Balio Benvenuti, also of Milan, is bringing out another little volume about Lombard customs; but even these have not approached the fairy tales, and leave Central and Southern Italy altogether untouched.3

It’s true that the knowledgeable and tireless Cesare Cantù has managed to find time amid his more significant work [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] to illustrate some remnants of medieval customs and sayings still found in northern Italy in his ‘Novelle Lombarde.’ He also mentioned that Balio Benvenuti, also from Milan, is publishing another small book about Lombard customs; however, even these don’t come close to fairy tales and completely overlook Central and Southern Italy. 3

The nearest approach to the material of which I was in search was afforded in the roughly printed rimed legends which itinerant venders sell at the church doors on festa days. Among the collection I have made of these, are many whose quaintness gives them special interest, notwithstanding their baldness of style and diction; but the matter which came to me first hand seemed to have the first claim to publication; and I have, therefore, put these among my reserve for a second series.4

The closest thing I found to the material I was looking for was in the roughly printed rhymed legends that traveling vendors sell at church doors on festival days. In my collection of these, there are many that stand out for their uniqueness, even though their style and language are pretty plain. However, the content I received directly feels like it should be published first; so I've set these aside for a second series.4

No repository of Roman Folklore was to be found ready-formed. ‘Who among us,’ writes Cesare Cantù in his preface to his ‘Novelle Lombarde,’ ‘knows anything about these matters? If they were the things of Scotland or Touraine we should all have read them long ago in the [viii]pages of Scott or Balzac. But here among us there are neither writers who care to describe nor readers who take any interest in learning the ways of our own country. People like to seem above giving their attention to such homely matters, and only care for what they must look at through a telescope.’

No collection of Roman Folklore exists as a complete source. "Who among us," Cesare Cantù writes in the preface to his "Novelle Lombarde," "knows anything about these subjects? If they were about Scotland or Touraine, we would have all read them ages ago in the [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] pages of Scott or Balzac. But here, we have neither writers who want to tell these stories nor readers who are interested in discovering our own country's traditions. People prefer to act like they're above paying attention to such everyday topics and only care about what they observe from a distance."

I was thus thrown back on my own powers of collecting, and found the process, however fascinating where successful, much more uphill work than it had promised to be at the outset. Legends, it is true, there was less difficulty in obtaining. There might be some sense and some moral in them, and I found people were not ashamed of knowing them; but it long remained impossible to convince persons who had even betrayed to me indications that they possessed what I wanted, to own fully to a knowledge of bonâ fide Fairy Tales, or to believe that I could be serious in wishing to listen to such childish nonsense.

I was left to rely on my own ability to gather information, and I discovered that, while it could be intriguing when successful, the process was much harder than I had initially thought. It’s true that there was less trouble in collecting legends. They often contained some wisdom or moral, and I found that people weren’t embarrassed to share them. However, it remained challenging to convince those who had even hinted to me that they had what I was looking for to admit they fully knew any real Fairy Tales or to believe that I could genuinely want to hear such childish nonsense.

‘But suppose you had a child to amuse,’ I would say at last, ‘I am sure you would sometimes tell it a marvellous story.’

‘But imagine you had a child to entertain,’ I would finally say, ‘I’m sure you would occasionally tell it an amazing story.’

‘Ah, a creatura,5 yes! But I haven’t the face to tell such nonsense to your signoria.’

‘Ah, a creatura,5 yes! But I can’t bring myself to say such nonsense to your signoria.’

‘Never mind that, if I want to hear it. Imagine I am the creatura, and tell me one of your tales. I want something about transformations, fairy gifts, and marvels of all sorts.’

‘Never mind that, if I want to hear it. Imagine I’m the creatura, and tell me one of your stories. I want something about transformations, fairy gifts, and all kinds of wonders.’

In some such way, after due precaution taken to convince me that such things were only allowed a place in the memory for the sake of amusing children, and not because anyone believed in them, one tale after another would be suffered reluctantly to ooze out. [ix]

In a similar way, after careful measures were taken to make me believe that these stories were only meant to be remembered for the sake of entertaining children and not because anyone actually believed in them, one story after another would reluctantly come to mind. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

But you cannot make application for such wares to the first person you meet. The class in which such lore is stored away is not indeed so exclusive that introductions to it are a very difficult matter, but introduction of some sort you must have; some claim for taking up a person’s time, where time is money; and some means of compensation you must devise, the more difficult to invent where direct payment would be an offence. Your modern Romans are very independent; I cannot say whether the quality is more an inheritance from their ancient forefathers, or adopted from the continental spread of French revolutionary ideas of ’93. True, they are singularly urbane and deferential, but only so long as you are urbane and deferential towards them. If you omit any of their peculiar forms of politeness, they are suspicious of you, and scarcely know how to make allowance for the well-meaning inexperience of a foreigner. If you want to learn anything from them you must submit to become one of them. You must converse first on the subject uppermost in their minds, from the price of bread and meat to the latest change in the political atmosphere; only when all is exhausted may you venture to come round to the matter of which you are in search. Many, too, in whose memories such stories have lain dormant since childhood, for more than half a century, have not the power of recalling them in due form or order for narration on abrupt application, but will yet bring them out unconsciously if patiently led up to an appropriate starting point.

But you can't just ask the first person you meet for such information. The group that holds this knowledge isn’t so exclusive that you can’t get an introduction, but you definitely need some kind of introduction; you need a reason to take up someone's time, especially when time is money; and you have to come up with some way to compensate them, which can be tricky if direct payment would be inappropriate. Today’s Romans are very independent; I’m not sure if that's a trait inherited from their ancient ancestors or if it came from the spread of French revolutionary ideas in '93. They are quite polite and respectful, but only if you are polite and respectful to them first. If you skip any of their specific forms of politeness, they'll be suspicious of you and might have a hard time considering the innocent naivety of a foreigner. If you want to learn anything from them, you have to fit in. You need to start talking about whatever is on their minds, whether it’s the price of bread and meat or the latest political news; only after discussing all that can you seek out the information you’re looking for. Many people with these stories buried in their memories since childhood haven’t the ability to recall them in order when asked suddenly, but they can share them unconsciously if you guide them to the right place to start.

Nor is it every application, made with all precautions, that will be successful. Often you must submit to be put off with the tantalising experience that a person knew [x]plenty of stories, but was quite incapable of putting them into shape. This happened once with an intelligent old lady from Siena, whom, after allowing her to indulge her irony at my expense concerning my childishness in seeking such things, I brought to confess that she had heard in her youth a strange story of a cat which wore stivali di cacciatore (hunter’s boots), but she could not succeed in recalling a single incident of it; and I was obliged to content myself with the information (no small encouragement in the early days of my work, however!) that ‘Puss in Boots’ had actually travelled to Tuscany.

Nor is it every application, made with all precautions, that will be successful. Often you have to settle for the frustrating experience of encountering someone who knew plenty of stories but was completely unable to tell them properly. This happened once with an insightful old lady from Siena, who, after I let her poke fun at my childishness for seeking such things, eventually admitted that she had heard a strange story in her youth about a cat that wore stivali di cacciatore (hunter’s boots), but she couldn’t recall a single detail of it. I had to be satisfied with the fact (which was quite encouraging in the early days of my work, though!) that ‘Puss in Boots’ had actually made its way to Tuscany.

At another time one would have to spend hours in listening to detached incidents altogether lacking a thread to connect them, or stories of which the point had been so completely lost that they could only have been made available by means of a reconstruction too integral to be honestly attempted. As, e.g., ‘Oh yes! I know a story of an enchantress who had a gown which made her invisible, and a pair of boots which would carry her a thousand miles without walking, but I quite forget what she did with them.’ Or else it might be, ‘I knew a story of a king whose wife had been fatata (subjected to magic influence), and maligned by her mother-in-law while the king was gone to the wars; but that’s all I remember, except that in the end the queen was rehabilitated, and the mother-in-law punished’—incidents of stories recurring in every collection, but tantalisingly lacking all means of further particular identification with any. Sometimes, too, it would be only a title that could be recalled, and nothing more, as in the case of a certain ‘Uccello Biverde,’6 which I [xi]have been several times assured is ‘a most beautiful story,’ but I have never yet succeeded in meeting with any one who could supply the narrative. I have further felt called sometimes to exercise a difficult forbearance in withholding some specimens which at first promised to afford singular instances of interchanged episodes, but which there afterwards appeared reason to conclude were merely jumbled in the bad memory of the narrator, and had, therefore, no individual interest, but were rather calculated to mislead.7

At other times, you would have to spend hours listening to random stories that had no connection to each other or tales where the main point was so completely lost that the only way to make sense of them would be through a reconstruction that felt too complicated to attempt honestly. For example, “Oh yes! I know a story about an enchantress who had a gown that made her invisible and a pair of boots that could take her a thousand miles without walking, but I completely forget what she did with them.” Or it might be, “I remember a story about a king whose wife was *fatata* (under a magic spell) and was slandered by her mother-in-law while the king was away at war; but that’s all I recall, except that in the end the queen was vindicated, and the mother-in-law was punished”—stories that appear in every collection but frustratingly lack any way to further identify them. Sometimes, all that could be remembered was a title, like a certain ‘Uccello Biverde,’6 which I [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]have been told multiple times is ‘a wonderfully beautiful story,’ but I’ve never managed to meet anyone who could actually tell me the story. I’ve also had to practice a difficult patience in holding back certain examples that at first seemed like they would provide interesting instances of mixed-up episodes, but later it became clear they were just confused in the narrator's bad memory, so they held no individual interest and were likely to cause confusion.7

One of my worst disappointments was the case of a very old woman, who, I am assured, knows more of such things than anyone in the world, but whom nothing can induce to repeat them now. She has grown so toothless and tremulous and inconsecutive, that it is not easy to understand her; but I think her arguments are not difficult to appreciate in the following way,—that having had a long run of weary bad fortune, she had rather not dwell on stories where things turned out as one could wish to have them. She wants to go to heaven, she says, and so she believes in God, and whatever else she must believe; but for anything more, for special interpositions of Providence, and anything one is not obliged to believe, she had rather say nothing about all that. ‘But don’t tell them then as if you believed them; tell them only as a pastime; just to oblige me.’ I thought I had moved her, but the utmost she would yield was to promise to think about it before I came again: and when I came [xii]again she was as rigid as ever. It is vexatious to think that a vast store is going to the grave with her under one’s very eyes and that one cannot touch it.

One of my biggest disappointments was with a very old woman who, I'm told, knows more about such things than anyone else in the world, but she won’t share them now. She has become so toothless and shaky that it's hard to understand her; however, I think her reasoning can be summarized like this: after a long stretch of bad luck, she'd rather not talk about stories that have happy endings. She says she wants to go to heaven, so she believes in God and whatever else she has to believe in; but when it comes to anything beyond that, like special acts of Providence or anything she doesn’t have to believe in, she prefers to stay silent. “But don’t tell them as if you really believe in them; share them only for fun, just to please me.” I thought I had convinced her, but the most she would agree to was to think about it before I came back: and when I returned again, she was as unyielding as ever. It's frustrating to think that a wealth of knowledge is going to the grave with her right before my eyes, and I can't access it.

It is further to be remarked, that while there are thus a vast number of persons holding the store of traditional myths, it by no means includes the generality of the population; there is a still larger class among whom every trace of such lore is lost. So destitute are they of all knowledge of the kind, that it would be interesting to trace back the antecedents of each, and so discover, if it might be, the origin of this discrepancy; for not only have I found it impossible myself to stir up any memory of such stories in half the people I have applied to, (though, to all appearance, similarly circumstanced with those who have proved the most communicative), but old ‘gossips,’ sitting by while the stories in the text were being poured out, have, time after time, displayed a wonderment which proved that their very style was something quite new to them.

It’s also worth noting that while there are many people who hold onto traditional myths, they definitely don’t represent the majority of the population; there’s an even larger group among whom every trace of these stories is gone. They are so completely unaware of this kind of knowledge that it would be fascinating to trace back their backgrounds to perhaps understand the origin of this gap. I’ve found it impossible myself to jog the memories of half the people I’ve asked (even though they seem to be in the same situation as those who have been more open about sharing), and old 'gossips,' sitting nearby while the stories in the text were shared, have repeatedly shown amazement that proves the very style of these tales was totally new to them.

Nevertheless, in spite of all difficulties, a few years’ patience has put me in possession of a goodly bulk of popular stories not yielding in interest, I think, to those of any other country. The tales included in the present collection are but a portion of those which I have gathered within the limits of the Roman State. I hope to be able to complete at some future day the remainder that I have gathered both there and from other divisions of the former Heptarchy of Italy. The localities from which these have been chiefly drawn are Palombara, Capranica, Loreto, Sinigaglia, Viterbo, Cori, Palestrina, and, above all, Rome itself. One of my chief contributors had passed her whole existence—infancy, married life, and widow-hood[xiii]—within the limits of one parish in the heart of Rome.

Nevertheless, despite all the challenges, a few years of patience have allowed me to collect a substantial number of popular stories that I believe are just as interesting as those from any other country. The tales included in this collection are just a portion of what I've gathered within the boundaries of the Roman State. I hope to eventually complete the remaining stories I've collected both from there and from other parts of the former Heptarchy of Italy. The main locations these stories come from are Palombara, Capranica, Loreto, Sinigaglia, Viterbo, Cori, Palestrina, and especially Rome itself. One of my main sources spent her entire life—childhood, married life, and widowhood[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]—within the confines of a single parish in the heart of Rome.

The collection has arranged itself, according to the spontaneous titling of the narrators, into four categories, and it may not be unimportant to note that Romans, always precise in their choice of language, keep rigidly to these designations. I have, for instance, been on the very verge of passing over a whole mine of ‘Esempj,’ or ‘Ciarpe’ by only asking for ‘Favole’ (and vice versâ). Remembering afterwards to say, ‘I daresay you can, at all events, recall some “Esempj,” or “Ciarpe,”’ I have received for answer, ‘To be sure; why didn’t you say sooner that such would suit you?’

The collection has organized itself, based on the narrators' spontaneous titles, into four categories. It's worth noting that the Romans, always precise with their language choices, strictly adhere to these labels. For example, I was on the brink of missing out on a whole wealth of ‘Esempj’ or ‘Ciarpe’ just by asking for ‘Favole’ (and vice versâ). Later, when I remembered to mention, ‘I suppose you can recall some “Esempj” or “Ciarpe,”’ I got the response, ‘Of course; why didn’t you say earlier that this is what you wanted?’

The said four categories are,—

The four categories are—

1. Esempj, or those stories under which some religious or moral lessons might be conveyed, answering to what we call Legends. Though the word Leggenda exists in the dictionary, and is not altogether unused, I have never once met it among the people.

1. Examples, or those stories that convey religious or moral lessons, correspond to what we now refer to as Legends. While the word Legend exists in the dictionary and is not completely forgotten, I have never encountered it among the general public.

2. Ghost stories and local and family traditions. The latter are much more carefully preserved than among our own people,8 and the Roman poor will tell the tale (more or less accurately) of the virtues and vices of their great families, with a gusto which shows that they look upon them as something specially belonging to themselves; but the former do not appear to have any recognised title, and the contempt in which they are held makes it very difficult to get hold of them, so that it is not very easy to avoid giving offence in approaching the subject. Only by a prolonged and round-about conversation one may [xiv]sometimes elicit excellent specimens brought in as matters of curious personal experience by the very persons who, on direct questioning, had repudiated all knowledge of anything of the sort.

2. Ghost stories and local and family traditions. The latter are much more carefully preserved than among our own people, 8 and the Roman poor will share the story (more or less accurately) of the virtues and vices of their prominent families, with an enthusiasm that shows they see these stories as something that uniquely belongs to them; however, the former don’t seem to have any accepted recognition, and the disdain in which they are held makes it really tough to access them, so it’s not easy to discuss the topic without causing offense. Only through a long and roundabout conversation can one [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] sometimes uncover excellent examples presented as curious personal experiences by those who, when asked directly, had denied any knowledge of such things.

3. Favole. The word universally appropriated in Roman dialect for ‘Fairy Tales,’ a not unclassical application of the term, I think, and continued in the ‘Fabliaux’ of the mediæval period. But when asking for them I have never had any given me belonging to the class which we call ‘fables’ in English.

3. Fables. This term is commonly used in Roman dialect to mean 'Fairy Tales,' which I believe is a fitting use of the word, continuing from the 'Fabliaux' of the medieval period. However, whenever I've asked for them, I've never received any that would be categorized as 'fables' in English.

4. Ciarpe, expounded by Bazzarelli as parole vane, ciance; ciance being said, on the authority of Petrarch, to stand for parole vane, lontane dal vero, chiacchiera; chiacchiera being the equivalent for gossip. Versions of some stories in this category, notably No. 6, ‘L’Uccelletto’ (The Little Bird), and 21, ‘The Value of Salt,’ we all heard in our English nurseries, while those under the heading of ‘La Sposa Cece’ (The Simple Wife) belong to the same class as ours of the man who being told to give his wife her medicine in a convenient vehicle, wheeled her about in a hand-barrow, while she swallowed it; or that of the idiotic couple who wasted their three precious chances in wishing three yards of black pudding on each other’s noses, and then wishing it off again; but I do not know that we have any special technical designation for such. All the headings of which I have given the Italian are those used by the narrators themselves.

4. Ciarpe, described by Bazzarelli as empty words, nonsense; nonsense is said, according to Petrarch, to mean empty words, far from the truth, chitchat; chitchat being the equivalent of gossip. Versions of some stories in this category, especially No. 6, ‘L’Uccelletto’ (The Little Bird), and 21, ‘The Value of Salt,’ are ones we all heard in our English nurseries, while those under the title ‘La Sposa Cece’ (The Simple Wife) belong to the same category as our story of the man who, when told to give his wife her medicine in a convenient way, wheeled her around in a handbarrow while she took it; or that of the foolish couple who wasted their three precious wishes by wishing three yards of black pudding on each other’s noses and then wishing it off again; but I don’t know if we have a specific technical term for such. All the titles for which I provided the Italian are those used by the narrators themselves.

It is impossible, in making acquaintance with these stories in their own language, not to regret having to put them into another tongue. Much of what is peculiar in them, and distinguishes them from their counterparts in other lands, is, of course, wrapped up in the form of expression [xv]in which they are clothed. Divested of this, they run the risk of losing the national character they have acquired during their residence on Italian soil. I had purposed, therefore, originally, to print an Italian version, side by side with the English rendering, but was obliged to renounce the arrangement, as it would have proved too voluminous. I have only been able to preserve some few of the vernacular idiosyncrasies in the notes, for the benefit of those who take an interest in the people’s characteristic utterances.

It’s impossible to dive into these stories in their original language without feeling regret about having to translate them into another language. A lot of what makes them unique and sets them apart from similar tales in other countries is, of course, tied up in the way they’re expressed [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]. Without that, they risk losing the national flavor they’ve developed while being rooted in Italian culture. I originally intended to print an Italian version alongside the English one, but I had to give up on that idea because it would have been too lengthy. I've managed to keep a few of the local quirks in the notes for those interested in the distinctive expressions of the people.

I think I may safely say that the whole of the stories are traditional. There were only two of my contributors who could have read them had they even existed in print. The best-instructed of them was the one who gave me ‘Prete Olivo’ and ‘Perchè litigano i cani ed i gatti;’ both of which I am clear, from ‘asides’ which accompanied them concerning her father’s manner of telling, she had heard from his lips, even as she said.

I think I can confidently say that all the stories are traditional. Only two of my contributors could have read them if they had ever been published. The most knowledgeable one was the one who shared ‘Prete Olivo’ and ‘Perché i cani e i gatti litigano.;’ both of which I understand, based on comments she made about her father's storytelling style, that she heard directly from him, just as she mentioned.

With the exception of some of the Legends, Local Traditions, and Ciarpe, there are few, either printed in this collection or among those I still hold in MS., the leading episodes of which (if not the entire story) are not to be found in the collections of other countries; but certain categories common in other countries are wanting in the Roman. One could not in making the collection but be struck with the almost complete absence of stories of heroism and chivalry. There are some, indeed, in which courageous deeds occur; but there is none of the high-souled mettle which comes out so strong in Hungarian, Gaelic, and Spanish tradition, in many of the Teutonic and Breton, and some Norse and Russian tales. Several, we shall find, are identical stories, with the grand and fierce [xvi]element left out. I have never come across a single story of knightly prowess in any shape. I have in MS. one or two dragon stories, but no knights figure even in these. At the same time, tales of horror seem equally to have failed to fascinate the popular imagination, and we can trace again the toning down process in many instances. I have in MS. several versions of the rather ghastly story of the boy who went out to discover Fear, but the Roman mind does not often indulge in such scenes as it presents. Similarly, horrid monsters are rare. ‘Orco’ himself is not painted so terrible as in other countries. Giants and dwarfs, again, being somewhat monstrous creations, are not frequent. The stories about the Satiri were only told me spontaneously by one narrator; one other owned to having heard of such beings on being questioned, but there is no general popular conception corresponding to the German ideas of wild men. I have never met anyone who believed in the present existence of any supernatural being of this class,9 and rarely with any who imagined such had ever existed. ‘The stories always say, “there was a fairy who did so and so:” but were there ever fairies? Perhaps there were, perhaps there weren’t,’ soliloquised an old woman one day at the end of a tale; that was the strongest expression of opinion in their favour that came in my way. Another said once, ‘If there ever were such beings there would be now; but there certainly are not any now, so I don’t believe there ever were any.’10

Except for some of the Legends, Local Traditions, and Ciarpe, there are few stories, either printed in this collection or in the manuscripts I still have, whose main episodes (if not the whole story) aren't found in the collections of other countries. However, certain types that are common elsewhere are missing from the Roman tales. It's hard to miss the almost total lack of stories about heroism and chivalry in this collection. There are a few where brave acts happen, but none that showcase the noble spirit found prominently in Hungarian, Gaelic, and Spanish traditions, as well as in many Teutonic, Breton, Norse, and Russian tales. We will see that several are identical stories, but without the grand and fierce [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] elements. I have never encountered a single tale of knightly valor in any form. I do have one or two dragon stories in my manuscripts, but knights don’t appear even in those. At the same time, horror stories seem to lack popular appeal, and we can trace a process of softening in many cases. I have several versions in manuscripts of the rather grim tale about the boy who set out to discover Fear, but the Roman mind doesn't often dwell on such scenes as these. Likewise, horrifying monsters are rare. ‘Orco’ himself isn’t depicted as terrifying as in other cultures. Giants and dwarfs, being somewhat monstrous, are not common either. The stories about the Satiri were told to me only by one narrator spontaneously; another admitted to having heard of such beings when asked, but there’s no widespread popular belief that matches the German ideas of wild men. I have never met anyone who believes in the current existence of any supernatural beings of this type, 9 and rarely with anyone who thought such beings ever existed. “The stories always say, ‘there was a fairy who did so and so:’ but were there ever fairies? Maybe there were, maybe there weren’t,” an old woman reflected one day at the end of a tale; that was the strongest opinion in their favor that I encountered. Another person said once, “If there ever were such beings, they would exist now; but there definitely aren’t any now, so I don’t believe there ever were any.” 10

Again, religious legends, with admixture of pagan superstitions, [xvii]seem rare. English readers may say that there is superstition in some of the legends in the text; but they only exaggerate the literalness with which they deal with Gospel promises; there is little at variance with it. The false tale of the pilgrim husband, pp. 355–6, is the most devious from Christian doctrine that I have come across in Rome. I cannot fancy a Roman, however illiterate, gravely telling such stories as some of those which Mr. Ralstone gives us from Russia. The story of ‘Pret’ Olivo’ is doubtless derivatively the same as Dr. Dasent’s ‘Master Smith’; but the Roman version presents vastly less of the pagan element.

Once again, religious legends mixed with pagan superstitions seem rare. English readers might argue that there is superstition in some of the legends in the text, but they are just overstating how literally they interpret Gospel promises; there's not much that contradicts it. The false story of the pilgrim husband, pp. 355–6, is the most off-base from Christian doctrine that I've encountered in Rome. I can't imagine a Roman, even if they're uneducated, seriously sharing some of the tales that Mr. Ralstone presents from Russia. The story of 'Pret' Olivo' is likely derived from Dr. Dasent’s 'Master Smith'; however, the Roman version has significantly less of the pagan influence.

In winding up his general remarks on the migrations of myths, Prof. de Gubernatis gives as his opinion that ‘the elementary myth was the spontaneous production of imagination and not of reflection;’ ... that ‘morals have often been made an appendix to fables, but never entered into the primitive fable;’ that ‘art and religion have made use of the already existing myths (themselves devoid of moral conscience) as allegories for their own æsthetic and moral ends.’ And it appears to me that the Romans, in adapting such elementary myths to legendary use, have christianised them more than some other peoples.

In wrapping up his general thoughts on the migrations of myths, Prof. de Gubernatis shares his view that "the basic myth was a spontaneous creation of imagination rather than thought;" ... that "morals have often been added as an afterthought to fables, but were never part of the original fable;" and that "art and religion have taken existing myths (which themselves lacked moral awareness) and used them as allegories for their own aesthetic and moral purposes." It seems to me that the Romans, in adapting these basic myths for legendary use, have Christianized them more than some other cultures.

Pacts with the Devil, in which the Germans revel, are rare; the story of ‘Pietro Bailliardo’ is one of the very few. It would seem that witchcraft never at any time obtained any great hold upon the people of Rome, nor were witches ever treated with the same severity which befell them in other parts of Europe. It is true that some stories about witch-stepmothers wind up with ‘e la brucciorno in mezzo alla Piazza,’11 but I am inclined to think it is rather a ‘tag’ received from other countries, [xviii]than an actual local tradition; and certainly by cross-questioning I failed to awaken in the memory of the ‘oldest inhabitants’ with whom I have had the opportunity of conversing any tradition of anything of the sort having actually taken place.

Pacts with the Devil, which the Germans love, are rare; the story of ‘Pietro Bailliardo’ is one of the very few. It seems that witchcraft never really took a strong hold on the people of Rome, nor were witches ever treated as harshly as they were in other parts of Europe. It's true that some tales about witch-stepmothers end with ‘e la brucciorno in the middle of the Piazza,’ 11, but I think it’s more of a ‘tag’ picked up from other countries, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] than an actual local tradition; and certainly, through questioning, I couldn't bring to mind in the ‘oldest inhabitants’ I spoke with any memory of anything like that actually happening.

‘What do you know about burning witches in mezzo alla Piazza? I thought such things were never done in Rome?’ I observed one day to one who ended a story thus. ‘Who said the story took place in Rome?’ was the ready reply. I received the same reply to the same observation from another, with the addition of ‘There was something about a king and a queen in the story and in other stories I have told you, and we never had a king or a queen of Rome—the one may belong to the same country as the other. Who knows what sort of a country such stories come from!’ A third answered, ‘No; I don’t believe witches were ever burnt by law in Rome; I have always heard say that our laws were less fierce than those of some other countries; but I can quite fancy that if the people found a witch doing such things as I have told you, they would burn her all by themselves, law or no law.’

‘What do you know about burning witches in mezzo alla Piazza? I thought that kind of thing never happened in Rome?’ I remarked one day to someone who concluded a story that way. ‘Who said the story was set in Rome?’ came the quick reply. I got the same answer from someone else along with, ‘There was something about a king and a queen in that story and in other stories I've shared with you, and we never had a king or a queen in Rome—the characters can belong to a different country. Who knows where those stories come from!’ A third person said, ‘No; I don’t think witches were ever legally burned in Rome; I’ve always heard that our laws were less harsh than those of some other places; but I can easily imagine that if the people caught a witch doing things like I’ve described, they would burn her themselves, rules or no rules.’

Of course I have no pretension that my researches have been exhaustive, nor have I been, properly speaking, searching for superstitions, but in a good deal of intercourse with the uneducated, I have certainly come across less of superstitious beliefs in Rome than collectors of Folklore seem to have met in other countries. The saying exists,

Of course, I'm not claiming that my research is complete, nor have I, really, been looking for superstitions. However, in a lot of interactions with uneducated people, I've definitely noticed come across fewer superstitious beliefs in Rome than what folklore collectors seem to find in other countries. The saying goes,

Giorno di Venere,

Venus Day,

Giorno di Marte,

Martes

Non si sposa,

Not getting married,

E non si parte.12

And we're not leaving. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__

[xix]

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But I have seldom heard the lines quoted without the addition of, ‘But I don’t believe in such things;’ and a reference to the column of marriage announcements in the ‘Times’ will show that the prejudice against marrying in the month of May is, to say the least, quite as strong among our own most highly-educated classes.

But I rarely hear those lines quoted without someone adding, ‘But I don’t believe in such things;’ and if you look at the marriage announcements in the ‘Times,’ you'll see that the bias against getting married in May is, to put it mildly, just as strong among our most highly educated classes.

It is not altogether uncommon at the Parochial Mass, to hear along with banns of marriage and other announcements, a warning pronounced against such and such a person whom private counsel has failed to deter from ‘dabbling in black arts;’ but from the observations which I have had the opportunity of making such persons find their dupes chiefly among the dissolute and non-believing. I know a very consistently religious woman, and also singularly intelligent, who appeared to have a salutary contempt for certain practices in which her husband, a worthless fellow, who had long ago abandoned her and his religion together, indulged. ‘He actually believes,’ she told me one day, ‘that if you go out and stand on a cross road—not merely where two roads happen to cross each other, but where they actually make a perfect cross—and if at the stroke of mezzogiorno in punto, you call the Devil he is bound to come to you.’

It's not unusual at the Parochial Mass to hear, along with marriage announcements and other notices, a warning about someone whom private advice hasn’t stopped from 'getting involved in dark arts.' From what I've observed, these people usually find their victims among the corrupt and non-believers. I know a very devout woman who is also quite intelligent, and she seems to have a healthy disdain for certain activities that her husband—a worthless guy who abandoned her and his faith long ago—engages in. "He actually believes," she told me one day, "that if you go out and stand at a crossroads—not just where two roads cross, but where they actually form a perfect cross—and if at exactly mezzogiorno in punto, you call the Devil, he has to come to you."

‘He always kept a bag of particular herbs,’ I heard from her another time, ‘hung up over the door, all shred into the finest bits. As he was very angry if I touched them, I one day said, “Why do you want that bundle of herbs kept just there?” and then he told me that it was because no witch could pass under them without first having to count all the minute bits, and that though it was true she might do so by her arts without taking them down and handling them, it was yet so difficult when [xx]they were shred into such an infinite number that it was the best preservative possible against evil influences.’

‘He always kept a bag of special herbs,’ I heard from her another time, ‘hanging over the door, all shredded into the finest bits. He got really angry if I touched them, so one day I asked, “Why do you want that bundle of herbs kept right there?” and he told me it was because no witch could pass under them without first counting all the tiny pieces, and that while it was true she might use her magic to do so without taking them down, it was still really hard when they were shredded into such an infinite number that it was the best protection possible against evil influences.’

Another class of infrequent occurrence in the Roman stories is that in which animals are prominent actors, other than those in which they are transformed men. The tátos, the enchanted horse which excites so great enthusiasm in the Hungarian, and whose counterpart does great wonders also in the Gaelic tales, seems to be absolutely unknown,13 as I think is also the class not uncommon in the Gaelic (e.g. ‘Tales of the West Highlands,’ i. 275 et seq.), also in the Russian Folklore, p. 338, of birds made to pronounce articulate words analogous in sound to their own cries.14 Such traditions would naturally find a hold rather among countrypeople than townspeople.

Another rare occurrence in Roman stories is when animals play major roles, aside from those where they turn into humans. The tátos, the magical horse that inspires so much enthusiasm among Hungarians, and whose equivalent does remarkable things in Gaelic tales, seems to be completely unknown, as I believe the category also is in Gaelic (e.g., ‘Tales of the West Highlands,’ i. 275 et seq.), as well as in Russian folklore, p. 338, concerning birds that can speak words that sound similar to their own calls. Such traditions would naturally be more common among rural people than urban dwellers.

Fairies and witches are frequent enough, but the limits between the respective domains assigned to them are not so marked as with us. Roman fairies, it will be seen, are by no means necessarily ‘fairy-like.’ At the same time fairies, such as those described by Mr. Campbell, ‘West Highland Tales,’ p. ci., are altogether unknown. [xxi]

Fairies and witches are common, but the boundaries between their areas aren't as clear-cut as they are for us. Roman fairies, as you’ll see, aren’t always what we think of as ‘fairy-like.’ At the same time, the fairies described by Mr. Campbell in 'West Highland Tales,' p. ci., are completely unfamiliar. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 An hour before the evening Ave. ↑

1 An hour before the evening service. ↑

2 Professor de Gubernatis (whose work was not published till my collection had long been in progress) fills a far more important place than that of a mere collector of legends. His vast generalisations, indeed, touch less upon the household tales of Italy than those of any other country, and those which he does introduce are entirely from Tuscany and Piedmont. I had not the advantage of seeing either his book on ‘Zoological Mythology,’ or Mr. Cox’s ‘Mythology of the Aryan Nations,’ till after my MS. was in the printer’s hands, and was not able, therefore, to give references in my notes to the places where their interpretation may be found, though each group to which my stories respectively belong has been treated by them. It is a treatment, however, which requires to be studied as a whole, and could hardly be understood under any piecemeal reference. ↑

2 Professor de Gubernatis (whose work was published only after I had already been collecting for a while) holds a much more significant role than just being a collector of legends. His extensive generalizations focus less on the folklore of Italy compared to that of other countries, and the tales he does share are exclusively from Tuscany and Piedmont. I didn’t have the chance to review his book on ‘Zoological Mythology’ or Mr. Cox’s ‘Mythology of the Aryan Nations’ until after my manuscript was already with the printer, so I couldn't include references in my notes to their interpretations, even though each group of stories I present is covered by their work. However, their approach needs to be examined as a whole, and it's tough to grasp through any isolated references. ↑

3 There are, of course, the older collections of Straparola and Basile, referred to by Mr. Campbell and Professor De Gubernatis, not to speak of those of Boccaccio and Sacchetti; but these were made for quite different purposes than that of supplying Italy’s quota to the study of Comparative Mythology. The comparatively recent ‘Collection of Sicilian Tales,’ by Laura Gonzenbach, mentioned by Professor De Gubernatis, I did not know of, and have not been able to see. Straparola’s collection seems, in Rome at least, to have fallen into the oblivion which Mr. Campbell says is its merited lot. At least, not only was it not mentioned to me at any of the depôts where rare books are a spécialité, but my subsequent inquiry for it by name failed to produce a copy. ↑

3 There are, of course, the older collections of Straparola and Basile, mentioned by Mr. Campbell and Professor De Gubernatis, not to mention those by Boccaccio and Sacchetti; but these were created for very different reasons than to contribute Italy’s share to the study of Comparative Mythology. I wasn’t aware of the relatively recent ‘Collection of Sicilian Tales’ by Laura Gonzenbach, referenced by Professor De Gubernatis, and haven’t had the chance to see it. It seems that Straparola’s collection has, at least in Rome, faded into the obscurity that Mr. Campbell claims it deserves. In fact, it wasn’t mentioned to me at any of the places where rare books are a spécialité, and my later search for it by name didn’t yield a copy. ↑

4 I gave a translation of one of them, containing legendary details of the ‘Flight into Egypt,’ together with some verses of a Spanish version of the same, in a paper on ‘Street Music in Rome,’ in the ‘Monthly Packet’ of December, 1868. ↑

4 I provided a translation of one of them, featuring legendary details about the ‘Flight into Egypt,’ along with some lines from a Spanish version of the same, in an article titled ‘Street Music in Rome,’ published in the ‘Monthly Packet’ of December, 1868. ↑

5 Roman vernacular for a child of either sex. ↑

5 Roman term used for a child, regardless of gender. ↑

6 Whatever Biverde may mean. Possibly bel-verde, such, at least, is the title of Pellicciaio’s Madonna with the ‘beautiful green’ dress, at the Servite Church, Siena. The title may also be compared with ‘The Maid of the Bright-Green Kirtle,’ in Campbell’s ‘West Highland Tales.’ ↑

6 Whatever Biverde could mean. It might refer to bel-verde, as suggested by the title of Pellicciaio’s Madonna in her ‘beautiful green’ dress, at the Servite Church in Siena. This title can also be compared to ‘The Maid of the Bright-Green Kirtle,’ in Campbell’s ‘West Highland Tales.’ ↑

7 This, I am inclined to think, is the case with some published stories, as e.g. the singular medley contained in the third of the ‘Tales of the West Highlands,’ vol. i. ↑

7 I believe this applies to some published stories, like the unique mix found in the third volume of ‘Tales of the West Highlands,’ vol. i. ↑

8 Except perhaps among the Scotch Highlanders. See Campbell’s ‘Tales,’ Preface to vol. i. ↑

8 Except maybe among the Scottish Highlanders. Check out Campbell’s ‘Tales,’ Preface to vol. i. ↑

9 See remarks in Preface to Campbell’s ‘Tales of the West Highlands,’ vol. i. p. c. Dr. Dasent’s ‘Popular Tales from the Norse,’ pp. xliv, xlv, &c. ↑

9 Check the notes in the Preface of Campbell’s ‘Tales of the West Highlands,’ vol. i. p. c. Dr. Dasent’s ‘Popular Tales from the Norse,’ pp. xliv, xlv, &c. ↑

10 It has been observed to me that these words furnish a remarkable, because unconscious, parallel to the well-known dictum of Minucius Felix, on the mythical exploits of the old heathen gods and heroes, ‘Quæ si facta essent fierent; quia fieri non possunt ideò nec facta sunt.’ ↑

10 I've noticed that these words provide a striking, though unintentional, parallel to the famous saying of Minucius Felix about the legendary deeds of ancient pagan gods and heroes, ‘If they were to happen, they would happen; since they cannot happen, they haven't happened.’ ↑

11 (‘And they burnt her to death in the public square.’) ↑

11 (‘And they burned her to death in the public square.’) ↑

12 ‘Don’t marry or set out on a journey on a Friday or Tuesday;’ and under the two heads brought under the rime, any other undertaking is equally proscribed: some servants, for instance, dislike going to a new situation on those days. ↑

12 “Don’t get married or start a journey on a Friday or Tuesday;” and in addition to those two categories, any other activities are also discouraged: for example, some employees prefer not to start a new job on those days. ↑

13 In the story of ‘Filagranata,’ infra, pp. 6 et seq., he is divested in a marked manner of the individuality and importance attaching to his part in the corresponding versions of other countries. ↑

13 In the story of ‘Filagranata,’ infra, pp. 6 et seq., he is stripped of the individuality and significance that come with his role in similar versions from other countries. ↑

14 The Rev. Alfred White told me, however, an English story of the sort, picked up from a countryman in Berkshire. The Magpie was one day building her nest so neatly, and whispering to herself after her wont as she laid each straw in its place, ‘This upon that, this upon that,’ when the Woodpigeon came by. Now the Woodpigeon was young and flighty, and had never learnt how to build a nest; but when she saw how beautifully neat that of the Magpie looked, she thought she would like to learn the art. The busy Magpie willingly accepted the office of teaching her, and began a new one on purpose. Long before she was half through, however, the flighty Woodpigeon sang out, ‘That’ll doooo!’ The Magpie was offended at the interruption, and flew away in dudgeon, and that’s why the Woodpigeon always builds such ramshackle nests. Told well; the ‘This upon that!’ and the ‘That’ll do!’ takes just the sound of the cry of each of the birds named. ↑

14 The Rev. Alfred White shared with me an English tale he heard from a local in Berkshire. One day, a Magpie was carefully building her nest, quietly saying to herself as she placed each straw, “This on top of that, this on top of that,” when a Woodpigeon passed by. The Woodpigeon was young and a bit restless, having never learned how to construct a nest. Upon seeing how beautifully neat the Magpie’s nest was, she decided she wanted to learn how to do it. The busy Magpie gladly offered to teach her and started a new nest just for that purpose. However, long before she was even halfway finished, the impatient Woodpigeon called out, “That’ll doooo!” The Magpie was upset by the interruption and flew away in annoyance, which is why the Woodpigeon always ends up making such messy nests. It's a great story; the phrases “This on top of that!” and “That’ll do!” reflect the calls of each bird perfectly. ↑

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CONTENTS.

FAVOLE.

FAVOLE.

       PAGE

PAGE

[xxii]

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LEGENDARY TALES AND ESEMPJ.

LEGENDARY TALES AND ESEMPJ.

GHOST AND TREASURE STORIES AND FAMILY AND LOCAL TRADITIONS.

GHOST AND TREASURE STORIES AND FAMILY AND LOCAL TRADITIONS.

CIARPE.

CIARPE.

APPENDICES.

APPENDICES.

  • Appendix A. p. xx.        425
  • Appendix
    ,,
    B.        452
  • Appendix
    ,,
    C. p. 195        431
  • Appendix
    ,,
    D. p. 196        431
  • Appendix
    ,,
    E. p. 208        432
  • Appendix
    ,,
    F. p. 392        433

Index.        435 [1]

Index.        435 [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

FAVOLE.

[3]

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FILAGRANATA.

Once upon a time1 there was a poor woman who had a great fancy for eating parsley. To her it was the greatest luxury, and as she had no garden of her own, and no money to spend on anything not an absolute necessity of life, she had to go about poaching in other people’s gardens to satisfy her fancy.

Once upon a time1 there was a poor woman who had a strong craving for eating parsley. To her, it was the ultimate luxury, and since she didn’t have her own garden or money to spend on anything that wasn't a basic necessity, she had to sneak into other people’s gardens to satisfy her craving.

Near her cottage was the garden of a great palace, and in this garden grew plenty of fine parsley; but the garden was surrounded by a wall, and to get at it she had to carry a ladder with her to get up by, and, as soon as she had reached the top of the wall, to let it down on the other side to get down to the parsley-bed. There was such a quantity of parsley growing here that she thought it would never be missed, and this made her bold, so that she went over every day and took as much as ever she liked.

Near her cottage was the garden of a grand palace, and in this garden, there was a lot of beautiful parsley; but the garden was surrounded by a wall, and to get to it, she had to bring a ladder to climb up. Once she reached the top of the wall, she would let it down on the other side to get down to the parsley patch. There was so much parsley growing there that she figured it would never be noticed, which made her confident, so she went over every day and took as much as she wanted.

But the garden belonged to a witch,2 who lived in the palace, and, though she did not often walk in this part of the garden, she knew by her supernatural powers that some one was eating her parsley; so she came near the place one day, and lay in wait till the poor woman came. As soon, therefore, as she came, and began eating the parsley, the witch at once pounced down, and asked her, in her gruff voice, what she was doing there. Though dreadfully frightened, the poor woman thought it best to own the whole truth; so she confessed that she came down by the ladder, adding that she had not taken anything except the parsley, and begged forgiveness.

But the garden belonged to a witch, 2 who lived in the palace, and even though she didn’t often walk in this part of the garden, she sensed with her supernatural powers that someone was eating her parsley. So one day, she came close to the area and hid until the poor woman arrived. As soon as the woman came and started eating the parsley, the witch quickly swooped down and asked her, in a gruff voice, what she was doing there. Although she was extremely frightened, the poor woman thought it was best to tell the whole truth; she admitted that she had come down by the ladder, added that she hadn’t taken anything except the parsley, and begged for forgiveness.

‘I know nothing about forgiveness,’ replied the witch. [4]‘You have eaten my parsley, and must take the consequences; and the consequences are these: I must be godmother to your first child, be it boy or girl; and as soon as it is grown to be of an age to dress itself without help, it must belong to me.’

‘I know nothing about forgiveness,’ replied the witch. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]‘You’ve eaten my parsley, and now you have to face the consequences; and those consequences are these: I must be the godmother to your first child, whether it's a boy or a girl; and as soon as that child is old enough to dress themselves without help, they will belong to me.’

When, accordingly, the poor woman’s first child was born, the witch came, as she had declared she would, to be its godmother. It was a fine little girl, and she gave it the name of Filagranata; after that she went away again, and the poor woman saw her no more till her little girl was grown up old enough to dress herself, and then she came and fetched her away inexorably; nor could the poor mother, with all her tears and entreaties, prevail on her to make any exchange for her child.

When the poor woman's first child was born, the witch showed up, just as she said she would, to be the godmother. It was a beautiful little girl, and she named her Filagranata; after that, she left, and the poor woman didn't see her again until her daughter was old enough to dress herself. Then the witch came back and took her away without hesitation, and no amount of tears or pleas from the poor mother could convince her to swap the child for anything.

So Filagranata was taken to the witch’s palace to live, and was put in a room in a little tower by herself, where she had to feed the pigeons. Filagranata grew fond of her pigeons, and did not at all complain of her work, yet, without knowing why, she began to grow quite sad and melancholy as time went by; it was because she had no one to play with, no one to talk to, except the witch, who was no very delightful companion. The witch came every day, once in the day, to see that she was attending properly to her work, and as there was no door or staircase to the tower—this was on purpose that she might not escape—the witch used to say when she came under the tower—

So Filagranata was taken to the witch’s palace to live and was placed in a small tower by herself, where she had to feed the pigeons. Filagranata grew attached to her pigeons and didn’t complain about her work at all; however, without understanding why, she began to feel quite sad and melancholic as time passed. It was because she had no one to play with or talk to, except for the witch, who wasn’t a very pleasant companion. The witch came every day, once a day, to check that Filagranata was doing her work properly. Since there was no door or staircase to the tower—this was intentional to prevent her from escaping—the witch would say when she came under the tower—

Filagranata, so fair, so fair,

Filagranata, so beautiful, so beautiful,

Unloose thy tresses of golden hair:

Let down your golden hair:

I, thy old grandmother, am here;3

I, your old grandmother, am here;3

and as she said these words, Filagranata had to let down her beautiful long hair through the window, and by it the witch climbed up into her chamber to her. This she did every day.

and as she said these words, Filagranata had to let down her beautiful long hair through the window, and by it the witch climbed up into her room to see her. This was her daily routine.

Now, it happened that about this time a king’s son was travelling that way searching for a beautiful wife; [5]for you know it is the custom for princes to go searching all over the world to find a maiden fit to be a prince’s wife; at least they say so.

Now, around this time, a prince was traveling that way, looking for a beautiful wife; [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] because it’s a tradition for princes to search the world for a girl who deserves to be a prince's wife; or at least, that's what they say.

Well, this prince, travelling along, came by the witch’s palace where Filagranata was lodged. And it happened that he came that way just as the witch was singing her ditty. If he was horrified at the sight of the witch, he was in proportion enchanted when Filagranata came to the window. So struck was he with the sight of her beauty, and modesty, and gentleness, that he stopped his horse that he might watch her as long as she stayed at the window, and thus became a spectator of the witch’s wonderful way of getting into the tower.

Well, this prince, while traveling, came across the witch’s palace where Filagranata was staying. It just so happened that he arrived at the moment the witch was singing her song. If he was horrified by the witch's appearance, he was equally enchanted when Filagranata appeared at the window. He was so taken by her beauty, modesty, and gentleness that he stopped his horse to watch her for as long as she was at the window, and in doing so, he became an observer of the witch’s strange method of entering the tower.

The prince’s mind was soon made up to gain a nearer view of Filagranata, and with this purpose he rode round and round the tower seeking some mode of ingress in vain, till at last, driven to desperation, he made up his mind that he must enter by the same strange means as the witch herself. Thinking that the old creature had her abode there, and that she would probably go out for some business in the morning, and return at about the same hour as on the present occasion, he rode away, commanding his impatience as well as he could, and came back the next day a little earlier.

The prince quickly decided he wanted a closer look at Filagranata, so he rode around the tower multiple times trying to find a way in, but had no luck. Finally, out of desperation, he figured he would have to enter using the same unusual method as the witch. Believing that the old woman lived there and would likely leave for some errands in the morning, planning to come back around the same time as today, he left, doing his best to manage his impatience, and returned the next day a bit earlier.

Though he could hardly hope quite to imitate the hag’s rough and tremulous voice so as to deceive Filagranata into thinking it was really the witch, he yet made the attempt and repeated the words he had heard—

Though he could hardly expect to perfectly mimic the hag’s harsh and shaky voice enough to fool Filagranata into believing it was really the witch, he still gave it a shot and repeated the words he had heard—

Filagranata, thou maiden fair,

Filagranata, you fair maiden,

Loose thy tresses of golden hair:

Let your golden hair down:

I, thy old grandmother, am here.

I, your old grandmother, am here.

Filagranata, surprised at the soft modulation of voice, such as she had never heard before, ran quickly to the window with a look of pleasure and astonishment which gave her face a more winning expression than ever.

Filagranata, taken aback by the gentle tone of the voice, something she had never experienced before, hurried to the window with a look of joy and amazement that made her face more charming than ever.

The prince looked up, all admiration and expectation; [6]and the thought quickly ran through Filagranata’s head—‘I have been taught to loose my hair whenever those words are said; why should not I loose it to draw up such a pleasant-looking cavalier, as well as for the ugly old hag?’ and, without waiting for a second thought, she untied the ribbon that bound her tresses and let them fall upon the prince. The prince was equally quick in taking advantage of the occasion, and, pressing his knees firmly into his horse’s flanks, so that it might not remain below to betray him, drew himself up, together with his steed, just as he had seen the witch do.

The prince looked up, full of admiration and anticipation; [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]and the thought quickly crossed Filagranata’s mind—‘I’ve been taught to let my hair down whenever those words are spoken; why shouldn’t I let it down to attract such a good-looking guy, instead of just for the ugly old witch?’ and, without a second thought, she untied the ribbon holding back her hair and let it cascade down onto the prince. The prince was just as quick to seize the moment, pressing his knees firmly into his horse’s sides, so it wouldn’t stay behind to reveal him, and pulled himself up, along with his horse, just like he had seen the witch do.

Filagranata, half frightened at what she had done the moment the deed was accomplished, had not a word to say, but blushed and hung her head. The prince, on the other hand, had so many words to pour out, expressive of his admiration for her, his indignation at her captivity, and his desire to be allowed to be her deliverer, that the moments flew quickly by, and it was only when Filagranata found herself drawn to the window by the power of the witch’s magic words that they remembered the dangerous situation in which they stood.

Filagranata, partly scared of what she had just done, had no words to say and simply blushed and looked down. The prince, on the other hand, had so much to say, expressing his admiration for her, his anger at her captivity, and his eagerness to be her rescuer, that time flew by. It was only when Filagranata felt herself being pulled to the window by the witch’s magical words that they remembered the dangerous situation they were in.

Another might have increased the peril by cries of despair, or lost precious time in useless lamentations; but Filagranata showed a presence of mind worthy of a prince’s wife by catching up a wand of the witch, with which she had seen her do wonderful things. With this she gave the prince a little tap, which immediately changed him into a pomegranate, and then another to the horse, which transformed him into an orange.4 These she set by on the shelf, and then proceeded to draw up the witch after the usual manner.

Another person might have added to the danger with cries of despair or wasted valuable time in pointless lamenting; but Filagranata displayed a level-headedness worthy of a princess by grabbing the witch's wand, with which she had seen her perform amazing feats. With this, she gave the prince a gentle tap, instantly turning him into a pomegranate, and then another tap to the horse, which transformed him into an orange.4 She placed them on the shelf and then continued to summon the witch as usual.

The old hag was not slow in perceiving there was something unusual in Filagranata’s room.

The old hag quickly noticed that something was off in Filagranata’s room.

‘What a stink5 of Christians! What a stink of Christians!’ she kept exclaiming, as she poked her nose into every hole and corner. Yet she failed to find anything to [7]reprehend; for as for the beautiful ripe pomegranate and the golden orange on the shelf, the Devil himself could not have thought there was anything wrong with them. Thus baffled, she was obliged to finish her inspection of the state of the pigeons, and end her visit in the usual way.

‘What a stink of Christians! What a stink of Christians!’ she kept shouting as she sniffed around every nook and cranny. Yet she couldn’t find anything to [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]scold; because as for the beautiful ripe pomegranate and the golden orange on the shelf, even the Devil couldn’t have thought there was anything wrong with them. So, feeling frustrated, she had to wrap up her inspection of the pigeons and conclude her visit as usual.

As soon as she was gone Filagranata knew she was free till the next day, and so once more, with a tap of the wand, restored the horse and his rider to their natural shapes.

As soon as she left, Filagranata realized she was free until the next day, and so once again, with a tap of the wand, transformed the horse and his rider back to their natural forms.

‘And this is how your life passes every day! Is it possible?’ exclaimed the prince; ‘no, I cannot leave you here. You may be sure my good horse will be proud to bear your little weight; you have only to mount behind me, and I will take you home to my kingdom, and you shall live in the palace with my mother, and be my queen.’

‘And this is how your life goes by every day! Is it even possible?’ the prince exclaimed; ‘no, I can’t leave you here. You can count on it, my good horse will be happy to carry your small weight; just climb on behind me, and I’ll take you home to my kingdom, where you’ll live in the palace with my mother, and be my queen.’

It is not to be supposed but that Filagranata very much preferred the idea of going with the handsome young prince who had shown so devoted an appreciation of her, and being his queen, to remaining shut up in the doorless tower and being the witch’s menial; so she offered no opposition, and the prince put her on to his good horse behind him, and away they rode.

It’s clear that Filagranata much preferred the idea of going with the handsome young prince who had shown such devoted appreciation for her and being his queen, rather than staying locked up in the doorless tower and being the witch’s servant. So she didn’t oppose him, and the prince placed her on his strong horse behind him, and they rode off together.

On, on, on,6 they rode for a long, long way, until they came at last to a wood; but for all the good horse’s speed, the witch, who was not long in perceiving their escape and setting out in pursuit, was well nigh overtaking them. Just then they saw a little old woman7 standing by the way, making signs and calling to them to arrest their course. How great soever was their anxiety to get on, so urgent was her appeal to them to stop and listen to her that they yielded to her entreaties. Nor were they losers by their kindness, for the little old woman was a fairy,8 and she had stopped them, not on her own account, but to give them the means of escaping from the witch.

On, on, on,6 they rode for a long, long time, until they finally reached a forest; but despite the horse's speed, the witch, who quickly realized they had escaped and was chasing after them, was almost catching up. Just then, they noticed a little old woman7 standing by the road, gesturing and calling for them to stop. No matter how eager they were to continue, her urgent request to pause and hear her out made them give in to her pleas. They ended up benefiting from their kindness, as the little old woman was a fairy,8 and she had stopped them not for her sake, but to provide them with a way to escape the witch.

To the prince she said: ‘Take these three gifts, and [8]when the witch comes very near throw down first the mason’s trowel; and when she nearly overtakes you again throw down the comb; and when she nearly comes upon you again after that, throw down this jar9 of oil. After that she won’t trouble you any more.’ And to Filagranata she whispered some words, and then let them go. But the witch was now close behind, and the prince made haste to throw down the mason’s trowel. Instantly there rose up a high stone wall between them, which it took the witch some time to climb over. Nevertheless, by her supernatural powers she was not long in making up for the lost time, and had soon overtaken the best speed of the good horse. Then the prince threw down the comb, and immediately there rose up between them a strong hedge of thorns, which it took the witch some time to make her way through, and that only with her body bleeding all over from the thorns. Nevertheless, by her supernatural powers she was not long in making up for the lost time, and had soon overtaken the best speed of the good horse. Then the prince threw down the jar of oil, and the oil spread and spread till it had overflowed10 the whole country side; and as wherever you step in a pool of oil the foot only slides back, the witch could never get out of that, so the prince and Filagranata rode on in all safety towards the prince’s palace.

To the prince she said: ‘Take these three gifts, and [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] when the witch gets really close, drop the mason’s trowel first; and when she almost catches you again, drop the comb; and when she’s about to catch up again after that, drop this jar9 of oil. After that, she won’t bother you anymore.’ Then she whispered a few words to Filagranata and let them go. But the witch was now right behind them, and the prince hurried to drop the mason’s trowel. Instantly, a high stone wall rose up between them, which took the witch some time to climb over. However, with her supernatural powers, she quickly made up for the lost time and soon matched the speed of the good horse. Then the prince dropped the comb, and instantly a strong hedge of thorns grew up between them, which took the witch some time to push through, leaving her body bleeding from the thorns. Still, with her supernatural abilities, she quickly caught up again and matched the speed of the good horse. Finally, the prince dropped the jar of oil, and the oil spread and spread until it overflowed10 the entire countryside; and since stepping in a pool of oil only makes your foot slide back, the witch couldn’t escape from that, so the prince and Filagranata rode on safely towards the prince’s palace.

‘And now tell me what it was the old woman in the wood whispered to you,’ said the prince, as soon as they saw their safety sufficiently secured to breathe freely.

‘And now tell me what the old woman in the woods whispered to you,’ said the prince, as soon as they felt safe enough to breathe freely.

‘It was this,’ answered Filagranata; ‘that I was to tell you that when you arrive at your own home you must kiss no one—no one at all, not your father, or mother, or sisters, or anyone—till after our marriage. Because if you do you will forget all about your love for me, and all you have told me you think of me, and all the faithfulness you have promised me, and we shall become as strangers again to each other.’ [9]

‘It was this,’ Filagranata replied; ‘I had to tell you that when you get home, you shouldn’t kiss anyone—no one at all, not your dad, mom, sisters, or anyone—until after our wedding. Because if you do, you’ll forget all about your love for me, everything you’ve told me about how you feel, and all the loyalty you promised me, and we’ll end up as strangers to each other again.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘How dreadful!’ said the prince. ‘Oh, you may be sure I will kiss no one if that is to be the consequence; so be quite easy. It will be rather odd, to be sure, to return from such a long journey and kiss none of them at home, not even my own mother; but I suppose if I tell them how it is they won’t mind. So be quite easy about that.’

‘How awful!’ said the prince. ‘Oh, you can be sure I won’t kiss anyone if that is going to be the result; so don’t worry. It will be a bit strange, for sure, to come back from such a long journey and not kiss any of them at home, not even my own mom; but I guess if I explain how it is, they won’t mind. So don’t worry about that.’

Thus they rode on in love and confidence, and the good horse soon brought them home.

Thus they rode on, filled with love and confidence, and the good horse soon took them home.

On the steps of the palace the chancellor of the kingdom came out to meet them, and saluted Filagranata as the chosen bride the prince was to bring home; he informed him that the king his father had died during his absence, and that he was now sovereign of the realm. Then he led him in to the queen-mother, to whom he told all his adventures, and explained why he must not kiss her till after his marriage. The queen-mother was so pleased with the beauty, and modesty, and gentleness of Filagranata, that she gave up her son’s kiss without repining, and before they retired to rest that night it was announced to the people that the prince had returned home to be their king, and the day was proclaimed when the feast for his marriage was to take place.

On the steps of the palace, the kingdom's chancellor came out to greet them and acknowledged Filagranata as the chosen bride the prince was bringing back. He informed him that the king, his father, had passed away during his absence, and that he was now the ruler of the realm. Then he took him to the queen mother, to whom he shared all his adventures and explained why he couldn't kiss her until after his wedding. The queen mother was so impressed by Filagranata's beauty, modesty, and kindness that she willingly gave up her son's kiss without complaint, and before they went to bed that night, it was announced to the people that the prince had returned home to become their king, and the date was set for the wedding feast.

Then all in the palace went to their sleeping-chambers. But the prince, as it had been his wont from his childhood upwards, went into his mother’s room to kiss her after she was asleep, and when he saw her placid brow on the pillow, with the soft white hair parted on either side of it, and the eyes which were wont to gaze on him with so much love, resting in sleep, he could not forbear from pressing his lips on her forehead and giving the wonted kiss.

Then everyone in the palace headed to their bedrooms. But the prince, as he had done since he was a child, went into his mother’s room to kiss her while she was asleep. When he saw her peaceful face on the pillow, with her soft white hair parted on either side, and her eyes that usually looked at him with so much love now closed in sleep, he couldn’t help but press his lips to her forehead and give her the usual kiss.

Instantly there passed from his mind all that had taken place since he last stood there to take leave of the queen-mother before he started on his journey. [10]His visit to the witch’s palace, his flight from it, the life-perils by the way, and, what is more, the image of Filagranata herself,—all passed from his mind like a vision of the night, and when he woke up and they told him he was king, it was as if he heard it for the first time, and when they brought Filagranata to him it was as though he knew her not nor saw her.

Instantly, everything that had happened since he last said goodbye to the queen-mother before starting his journey left his mind. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]His visit to the witch’s palace, his escape from it, the life-threatening dangers along the way, and, most importantly, the image of Filagranata herself—all vanished from his mind like a fleeting dream. When he woke up and they told him he was king, it felt like he was hearing it for the first time, and when they brought Filagranata to him, it was as if he didn’t recognize or see her at all.

‘But,’ he said, ‘if I am king there must be a queen to share my throne;’ and as a reigning sovereign could not go over the world to seek a wife, he sent and fetched him a princess meet to be the king’s wife, and appointed the betrothal. The queen-mother, who loved Filagranata, was sad, and yet nothing that she could say could bring back to his mind the least remembrance of all he had promised her and felt towards her.

‘But,’ he said, ‘if I’m going to be king, there has to be a queen to share my throne;’ and since a reigning monarch couldn’t travel the world to find a wife, he sent for a princess suitable to be the king’s wife and arranged the engagement. The queen mother, who loved Filagranata, felt sad, yet nothing she said could spark any memory of all he had promised her or the feelings he had towards her.

But Filagranata knew that the prince had kissed his mother, and this was why the spell was on him; so she said to her mother-in-law: ‘You get me much fine-sifted flour11 and a large bag of sweetmeats, and I will try if I cannot yet set this matter straight.’ So the queen-mother ordered that there should be placed in her room much sifted flour and a large bag of sweetmeats. And Filagranata, when she had shut close the door, set to work and made paste of the flour, and of the paste she moulded two pigeons, and filled them inside with the comfits. Then at the banquet of the betrothal she asked the queen-mother to have her two pigeons placed on the table; and she did so, one at each end. But as soon as all the company were seated, before any one was helped, the two pigeons which Filagranata had made began to talk to each other across the whole length of the table: and everybody stood still with wonder to listen to what the pigeons of paste said to each other.

But Filagranata knew that the prince had kissed his mother, and that’s what caused the spell on him; so she said to her mother-in-law, “Get me some finely sifted flour11 and a big bag of sweets, and I’ll see if I can fix this.” The queen-mother ordered that a lot of sifted flour and a large bag of sweets be brought to her room. Once Filagranata shut the door tightly, she got to work, making dough from the flour, and shaped it into two pigeons, filling them with the candies inside. At the betrothal feast, she asked the queen-mother to put her two pigeons on the table, which she did, placing one at each end. But as soon as everyone was seated and before anyone was served, the two pigeons Filagranata had made started talking to each other across the entire length of the table; everyone was stunned, standing still to listen to what the pastry pigeons were saying.

‘Do you remember,’ said the first pigeon, ‘or is it possible that you have really forgotten, when I was in that [11]doorless tower of the witch’s palace, and you came under the window and imitated her voice, saying,—

‘Do you remember,’ said the first pigeon, ‘or is it possible that you have really forgotten, when I was in that [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]doorless tower of the witch’s palace, and you came under the window and imitated her voice, saying,—

Filagranata, thou maiden fair,

Filagranata, you lovely maiden,

Loose thy tresses of golden hair:

Let down your golden hair:

I, thy old grandmother, am here,

I, your old grandmother, am here,

till I drew you up?’

'till I created you?'

And the other pigeon answered,—

And the other pigeon replied,—

‘Si, signora, I remember it now.’

‘Yes, ma'am, I remember it now.’

And as the young king heard the second pigeon say ‘Si, signora, I remember it now,’ he, too, remembered having been in a doorless tower, and having sung such a verse.

And as the young king heard the second pigeon say, ‘Yes, ma’am, I remember it now,’ he also recalled being in a tower without a door and having sung that verse.

‘Do you remember,’ continued the first pigeon, ‘how happy we were together after I drew you up into that little room where I was confined, and you swore if I would come with you we should always be together and never be separated from each other any more at all?’

‘Do you remember,’ continued the first pigeon, ‘how happy we were together after I brought you into that little room where I was stuck, and you promised that if I came with you we would always be together and never be apart again?’

And the second pigeon replied,—

And the second pigeon responded,—

‘Ah yes! I remember it now.’

‘Oh yes! I remember it now.’

And as the second pigeon said ‘Ah yes! I remember it now,’ there rose up in the young king’s mind the memory of a fair sweet face on which he had once gazed with loving eyes, and of a maiden to whom he had sworn lifelong devotion.

And as the second pigeon said, “Oh, right! I remember it now,” the young king recalled a beautiful, kind face he had once looked at with love, and a girl to whom he had promised lifelong loyalty.

But the first pigeon continued:—

But the first pigeon went on:—

‘Do you remember, or have you quite forgotten, how we fled away together, and how frightened we were when the witch pursued us, and how we clung to each other, and vowed, if she overtook us to kill us, we would die in each other’s arms, till a fairy met us and gave us the means to escape, and forbad you to kiss anyone, even your own mother, till after our marriage?’

‘Do you remember, or have you completely forgotten, how we ran away together, and how scared we were when the witch chased us, and how we held onto each other, and promised that if she caught us and killed us, we would die in each other’s arms, until a fairy found us and gave us a way to escape, and told you not to kiss anyone, even your own mother, until after we got married?’

And the second pigeon answered,—

And the second pigeon replied,—

‘Yes, ah yes! I remember it now.’

‘Yes, oh yes! I remember it now.’

And when the second pigeon said, ‘Yes, ah yes! I remember it now,’ the whole of the past came back to his [12]mind, and with it all his love for Filagranata. So he rose up12 and would have stroked the pigeons which had brought it all to his mind, but when he touched them they melted away, and the sweetmeats were scattered all over the table, and the guests picked them up. But the prince ran in haste to fetch Filagranata, and he brought her and placed her by his side in the banquet-hall. But the second bride was sent back, with presents, to her own people.

And when the second pigeon said, ‘Yes, oh yes! I remember now,’ everything from the past flooded back into his mind, along with all his love for Filagranata. So he stood up and tried to stroke the pigeons that had brought these memories to him, but as soon as he touched them, they vanished, and the sweets were scattered all over the table, which the guests started to pick up. The prince rushed to get Filagranata, and he brought her back and sat her next to him in the banquet hall. Meanwhile, the second bride was sent back to her people with gifts.

‘And so it all came right at last,’ pursued the narrator. ‘Lackaday! that there are no fairies now to make things all happen right. There are plenty of people who seem to have the devil in them for doing you a mischief, but there are no fairies to set things straight again, alas!’

‘And so it all turned out okay in the end,’ the narrator continued. ‘Unfortunately, there are no fairies around anymore to make everything work out. There are plenty of people who seem to have a knack for causing trouble, but sadly, there are no fairies to fix things up again!’

[I have placed this story first in order, as its incidents ramify into half the traditionary tales with which we are acquainted.

[I have put this story first because its events connect to many of the traditional tales we're familiar with.

(1.) ‘Rapunzel,’ No. 12 in ‘Grimm,’ is the most like it among the German in the beginning, and has the most dissimilar ending. The counterpart form, in which it is some misdeed or ill-luck of the father instead of the mother, which involves the surrender of the first-born, is the more frequent opening, as in ‘The Water King,’ Ralston’s ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ p. 120. ‘The Lassie and her Godmother,’ in Dr. Dasent’s ‘Norse Tales,’ has an opening like ‘Filagranata,’ which, as it proceeds, connects it with ‘Marienkind,’ No. 4 in ‘Grimm;’ and the prohibition to open the room, in that [14]one, carries on the connexion to another group, the Bluebeard group, represented in this series by ‘Monsoo Mostro,’ ‘Rè Moro,’ &c.; while, further on, ‘Lassie and her Godmother’ evolves the incident of the reflection in the well, which connects it with the following story in this collection, and in this roundabout way, though not in direct form, with the termination of ‘Filagranata.’

(1.) ‘Rapunzel,’ No. 12 in ‘Grimm,’ is the one that’s most similar among the German tales at the start, but it ends quite differently. The version where it’s a mistake or bad luck of the father instead of the mother that leads to the sacrifice of the first-born is a more common beginning, as seen in ‘The Water King,’ Ralston’s ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ p. 120. ‘The Lassie and her Godmother,’ from Dr. Dasent’s ‘Norse Tales,’ starts similarly to ‘Filagranata,’ but as it continues, it links up with ‘Marienkind,’ No. 4 in ‘Grimm;’ and the rule against entering the room in that [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]one connects it to another group, the Bluebeard group, represented in this series by ‘Monsoo Mostro,’ ‘Rè Moro,’ etc.; while later, ‘Lassie and her Godmother’ develops the incident of the reflection in the well, which ties it to the next story in this collection, and indirectly, though not in a direct manner, to the ending of ‘Filagranata.’

(2.) The introduction of an orange as a help to defy the ‘orca,’ connects the story again with the two next (though the fruit is used differently), and with a vast number of myths, as pointed out in Campbell’s ‘Tales of the West Highlands,’ Introduction, pp. lxxx-lxxxv. I was rather put off the scent by the narrator using the word portogallo: melagranata, though properly a pomegranate, is, I think, used in old Italian for an orange, being simply a red, or golden, apple.

(2.) The introduction of an orange as a way to counter the ‘orca’ connects the story again with the next two (even though the fruit is used differently) and with a huge number of myths, as noted in Campbell’s ‘Tales of the West Highlands,’ Introduction, pp. lxxx-lxxxv. I was somewhat thrown off by the narrator using the word portogallo: melagranata, which technically means a pomegranate, but I think it was used in old Italian to refer to an orange, simply meaning a red or golden apple.

(3.) The three gifts of the trowel, the comb, and the oil-filler, again bring this story in connexion with another vast group. Compare ‘Campbell,’ iv. 290; also his remarks, i. 58–62, on the ‘Battle of the Birds,’ which story this resembles in the main, but, as will be found throughout this collection, the Roman form is milder. The prince wins his bride without performing tasks, and the couple, in escaping, have only to kill a strange ‘orca,’ and not the girl’s own father. In the third version of the tale in Mr. Campbell’s series, the girl becomes a poultry-maid, and has three fine dresses, constituting a link with another group—that of Cinderella (I have given the Tirolean one as ‘Klein-Else’ in ‘Household Stories from the Land of Hofer’); and the three dresses there (though not in the Gaelic story) representing the sun, moon, and stars, give it another connexion with ‘Marienkind.’ ‘The Master Maid,’ in Dr. Dasent’s collection, again, has the golden apple (though it assists in a different way) and the ending of the Roman version (a golden cock there taking the part of the two paste pigeons), but begins with the tasks in the ‘Giant’s House’ of the Gaelic version, which the Roman ignores.

(3.) The three gifts of the trowel, the comb, and the oil-filler connect this story to a larger group. See ‘Campbell,’ iv. 290; also his comments, i. 58–62, on the ‘Battle of the Birds,’ which this story resembles overall, but, as you'll find throughout this collection, the Roman version is gentler. The prince wins his bride without having to complete tasks, and the couple, when escaping, only needs to kill a strange ‘orca,’ not the girl’s own father. In the third version of the tale in Mr. Campbell’s series, the girl becomes a poultry-maid and has three beautiful dresses, which links it to another group—that of Cinderella (I’ve included the Tirolean one as ‘Klein-Else’ in ‘Household Stories from the Land of Hofer’); and the three dresses there (though not in the Gaelic story) represent the sun, moon, and stars, tying it to ‘Marienkind.’ ‘The Master Maid,’ in Dr. Dasent’s collection, also features the golden apple (though it helps in a different way) and ends like the Roman version (with a golden cock taking the place of the two paste pigeons), but it starts with the tasks in the ‘Giant’s House’ from the Gaelic version, which is ignored in the Roman version.

In the Russian story of ‘Baba Yaga’ (Ralston’s ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ pp. 139) we have the three magic gifts. Though Mr. Campbell has a very ingenious solution for the idea of the supernatural attaching to swords (i. lxxii), the same does not seem at all to explain the introduction of supernatural combs; [15]when I once found a comb transformed into a mountain in a Tirolean story, I thought, as Mr. Ralston has also suggested (p. 144), that it fitted very well with the German expression for a mountain-ridge; but he does not tell us whether the metaphor holds good in Russ, where he finds it used; and in the present instance it is a hedge of thorns into which the comb resolves itself. I have another Roman story, in which the comb ‘swelled and swelled till every one of its teeth became a pier, and the spaces between them were arches, and it was a bridge by which one could pass over.’

In the Russian story of ‘Baba Yaga’ (Ralston’s ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ pp. 139), we come across three magical gifts. While Mr. Campbell has a clever explanation for the idea of supernatural qualities being linked to swords (i. lxxii), this doesn’t quite clarify the inclusion of magical combs; [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] when I once saw a comb turn into a mountain in a Tirolean tale, I thought, as Mr. Ralston also points out (p. 144), that it aligns nicely with the German term for a mountain ridge. However, he doesn’t tell us if the metaphor works the same way in Russian, where he finds it used; in this case, it transforms into a hedge of thorns. I have another Roman story where the comb “grew and grew until each of its teeth became a pier, and the gaps between them were arches, creating a bridge for crossing.”

(4.) The kiss which brings forgetfulness, again, is found in the myths of every country. It occurs in the Tirolean story I have given as the ‘Dove-Maiden’ in ‘Household Stories from the Land of Hofer,’ though I had to omit it there for want of space; but the remaining episodes of that story are nearly identical with those of the Russian story of ‘The Water-King;’ and in the Tirolean story the maiden is fetched from a heathen magician’s house by the aid of saints, while in the others it is from giants’ or witches’ abodes, by aid of other giants and witches. Mr. Ralston supplies, at pp. 132–7, a long list of variants of this story, and in a Russian one, at p. 133, comes a ride on a Bear, which is one of the incidents in the ‘Dove-Maiden,’ though, if I remember right, it does not occur in any of the others. In Mr. Campbell’s notes to ‘The Battle of the Birds’ are also collected notices of variants of this episode.

(4.) The kiss that brings forgetfulness can be found in the myths of every country. It appears in the Tirolean story I mentioned as the ‘Dove-Maiden’ in ‘Household Stories from the Land of Hofer,’ although I had to leave it out there due to space constraints; however, the other parts of that story are almost identical to those in the Russian tale of ‘The Water-King.’ In the Tirolean version, the maiden is rescued from a pagan magician’s house with the help of saints, while in other versions, it’s from the homes of giants or witches, aided by other giants and witches. Mr. Ralston provides a long list of variations of this story on pages 132–137, and in one Russian version on page 133, there’s a ride on a bear, which is one of the events in the ‘Dove-Maiden,’ although, if I recall correctly, it doesn’t happen in any of the other stories. Mr. Campbell’s notes on ‘The Battle of the Birds’ also contain accounts of variations of this episode.

The affinity of this story with others again will be found in Mr. Cox’s ‘Mythology of the Aryan Nations,’ ii. p. 301.]

The connection of this story to others can again be found in Mr. Cox’s ‘Mythology of the Aryan Nations,’ ii. p. 301.]

1 This story comes from Palombara. ↑

1 This story is from Palombara. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 The expression employed in this place was ‘Orca;’ as this is a word of most frequent, but somewhat capricious use, I interrupted the narrator to inquire her conception of it. ‘Well, it means a species of beast,’ she said; ‘but you see it must have been a bewitched (‘fatata’) beast, because the story says it was so rich, and had a palace, and spoke and did all the things you shall hear.’ She did not, however, seem to identify it with the evil principle according to its undoubted derivation, nor did she allow either that it had any connexion with ‘orso,’ a bear, as the narrator of the ‘il Vaso di Persa’ had expounded it, and indeed as the details of that story required; it will be seen, therefore, that popular fancy invests the monster with various shapes. The story of ‘The Pot of Marjoram,’ it will be seen, contains one or two incidents in common with this one. The apparently insignificant detail of the little plant—on which, however, both stories rest for a foundation—is noteworthy, the narrator in each instance being most positive that it was the one she had named and no other, and in both cases insisting on showing me the plant, that there might be no mistake about it. (See note to the word ‘Persa,’ infra, p. 54.) ↑

2 The term used here was ‘Orca;’ since this word is frequently used but can be a bit unpredictable, I interrupted the storyteller to ask her what she thought it meant. ‘Well, it refers to a type of creature,’ she replied; ‘but you see, it must have been an enchanted (‘fatata’) creature because the story says it was very wealthy, had a palace, and could talk and do all sorts of things you’ll hear about.’ However, she didn’t seem to connect it with the concept of evil based on its clear origins, nor did she agree that it had any connection to ‘orso,’ which means bear, as the narrator of ‘the Persian Vase’ had explained, and as the story details suggested. It becomes clear, therefore, that popular imagination gives the monster different forms. The tale of ‘The Pot of Marjoram’ also shares one or two elements with this story. The seemingly minor detail of the little plant—on which both stories are based—is significant, with the narrator in each case being adamant that it was the specific one she mentioned and no other, and in both instances, she insisted on showing me the plant to avoid any confusion. (See note to the word ‘Persa,’ infra, p. 54.) ↑

3

3

Filagranata bella bella,

Beautiful filigree.

Tira giù le bionde trecce,

Take down the blonde braids,

Ch’ io son nonna vecchiarella.

I'm an old grandma.

‘Tira giù,’ or ‘butta giù,’ as in the next repetition, mean equally ‘throw-down.’ ‘Biondo’ expresses particularly the yellow tint in hair. Bazzarini, ‘Ortografia Enciclopedica Universale,’ defines it, ‘colore tra il giallo e bianco ed è proprio di capelli,’ on the authority of Petrarch’s use of the word. He has also ‘biondeggiante, che biondeggia, che ingiallisce,’ [13]turning or tending to yellow; and it is thus the yellow Tiber gets called ‘il biondo Tevere.’ ↑

‘Tira giù,’ or ‘butta giù,’ as in the next repetition, both mean ‘throw down.’ ‘Biondo’ specifically refers to the yellowish tint in hair. Bazzarini, in ‘Universal Encyclopedia Spelling,’ defines it as ‘a shade between yellow and white, usually found in hair,’ based on Petrarch’s use of the term. He also notes ‘blond, that blondes, that yellows,’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]meaning turning or tending to yellow; and this is why the yellow Tiber is called ‘the blonde Tiber.’ ↑

4 ‘Portogallo’ is now the ordinary word for an orange, and points to the introduction of the fruit from the Portuguese colonies in the sixteenth century. The ‘arancia,’ ‘melarancia,’ or ‘merangola,’ the ungrafted orange-tree, was, however, indigenous in Italy; and the fruit, which has even a finer appearance than the edible orange, is still grown for ornament in Roman gardens. ↑

4 ‘Portogallo’ is now the common word for an orange, referring to the introduction of the fruit from the Portuguese colonies in the sixteenth century. The ‘arancia,’ ‘melarancia,’ or ‘merangola,’ the ungrafted orange tree, was actually native to Italy; and the fruit, which looks even more beautiful than the edible orange, is still cultivated for decoration in Roman gardens. ↑

5 ‘Puzzo,’ stink. There is no neutral word in Italian for a smell; you must define a good or a bad smell either as a perfume or a stink. ↑

5 ‘Puzzo’ means stink. There’s no neutral term in Italian for a smell; you have to categorize it as either a good smell, like a perfume, or a bad one, like a stink. ↑

6 ‘Camminando, camminando, camminando.’ This threefold repetition of this verb, according to the tense and person required by the story, I have found used as a sort of sing-song refrain by all the tellers of tales I have had to do with. ↑

6 ‘Walking, walking, walking.’ This repetition of the verb, adjusted to the tense and person needed for the story, I've noticed being used as a sort of rhythmic refrain by all the storytellers I've encountered. ↑

7 ‘Vecchiarella,’ little old woman. ↑

7 ‘Vecchiarella,’ little old lady. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

8 ‘Fata;’ ethnologically Fata is the same as ‘Fairy,’ ‘Fée,’ &c., &c., and ‘fairy’ is the only translation; but it will be observed the Italian ‘fata’ has always different characteristics from the English ‘fairy.’ ↑

8 ‘Fata;’ in terms of ethnology, Fata is the same as ‘Fairy,’ ‘Fée,’ etc., and ‘fairy’ is the only translation; however, it’s important to note that the Italian ‘fata’ always has different characteristics than the English ‘fairy.’ ↑

9 ‘Buzzica’ is a homely word for a lamp-filler; it probably comes from ‘buzzicare,’ to move gently or slowly. The narrator used the word because she would, according to local custom, keep her oil in a ‘buzzica,’ without perceiving that it was most inappropriate for the purpose of the story, which required that the oil should be poured out quickly. ↑

9 ‘Buzzica’ is a simple term for a lamp-filler; it likely comes from ‘buzzicare,’ meaning to move gently or slowly. The narrator used this word because, following local tradition, she would keep her oil in a ‘buzzica,’ without realizing that it was quite unsuitable for the story’s needs, which required the oil to be poured out quickly. ↑

10 ‘Allagato,’ inundated. I preserve the word on account of its expressiveness—literally making a lake of the country. ↑

10 ‘Allagato,’ flooded. I keep the term because it’s vivid—literally turning the land into a lake. ↑

11 ‘Fior di farina.’ ↑

11 'Flower of flour.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

12 As the story was told me the dialogue was broken, and every incident of the journey was made the subject of a separate question and answer; all the furniture in the room also here entered into conversation with the pigeons, brooms being particularly loquacious; but as it became tedious, and by no means added to the poetry of the situation, I condensed it to the dimensions in the text. ↑

12 As the story was narrated to me, the dialogue was interrupted, and every part of the journey became a topic for separate questions and answers; all the furniture in the room also chimed in with the pigeons, with the brooms being especially talkative; but since it became tiresome and didn’t enhance the poetry of the scene, I shortened it to what you see in the text. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE THREE LOVE-ORANGES.1

They say there was a king’s son who went out to hunt.2 It was a winter’s day, and the ground was covered with snow, so that when he brought down the birds with his arquebuse the red blood made beautiful bright marks on the dazzling white snow.

They say there was a prince who went out hunting. 2 It was a winter day, and the ground was covered in snow, so when he shot the birds with his gun, the red blood made bright marks on the sparkling white snow.

‘How beautiful!’ exclaimed the prince. ‘Never will [16]I marry till I find one with a complexion fair as this snow, and tinted like this rosy blood.’

‘How beautiful!’ the prince exclaimed. ‘I will never marry until I find someone with a skin tone as fair as this snow, and blushing like this rosy blood.’

When his day’s sport was at an end, he went home and told his parents that he was going to wander over the world till he found one fair as snow, tinted like rosy blood. The parents approved his design and sent him forth.

When his day's activities were over, he went home and told his parents that he was going to travel the world until he found someone as beautiful as snow, with a blush like rosy blood. His parents supported his decision and sent him on his way.

On, on, on he went, till one day he met a little old woman, who stopped him, saying: ‘Whither so fast, fair prince?’

On and on he went, until one day he met a little old woman who stopped him, saying, "Where are you rushing off to, dear prince?"

He replied, ‘I walk the earth till I find one who is fair as snow, tinted like rosy blood, to make her my wife.’

He replied, “I’ll wander the earth until I find someone who is as fair as snow, with a rosy glow, to be my wife.”

‘That can I help you to, and I alone,’ said the little old woman, who was a fairy; and then she gave him the three love-oranges, telling him that when he opened one such a maiden as he was in search of would appear, but he must immediately look for water and sprinkle her, or she would disappear again.

‘That I can help you with, and I alone,’ said the little old woman, who was a fairy; and then she gave him the three love-oranges, telling him that when he opened one, the kind of maiden he was searching for would appear, but he had to immediately find water and sprinkle her, or she would disappear again.

The prince took the oranges, and wandered on. On, on, on he went, till at last the fancy took him to break open one of the oranges. Immediately a beautiful maiden appeared, whose complexion was indeed fair as snow, and tinted like rosy blood, but it was only when she had already disappeared that he recollected about the water. It was too late, so on he wandered again till the fancy took him to open another orange. Instantly another maiden appeared, fairer than the other, and he lost no time in looking for water to sprinkle her, but there was none, and before he came back from the search she was gone.

The prince took the oranges and kept moving. He went on and on until he decided to break open one of the oranges. Instantly, a beautiful girl appeared, her skin as fair as snow and blushing like rosy blood, but it was only after she had disappeared that he remembered the water. It was too late, so he wandered on again until he felt like opening another orange. Immediately, another girl appeared, even more beautiful than the first, and he hurried to find water to sprinkle on her, but there was none, and by the time he returned from searching, she had vanished.

On he wandered again till he was nearly home, when one day he noticed a handsome fountain standing by the road, and over against it a fine palace. The sight of the fountain made him think of his third orange, and he took it out and broke it open.

On he walked again until he was almost home, when one day he saw a beautiful fountain by the road, and opposite it, a stunning palace. The sight of the fountain reminded him of his third orange, so he took it out and broke it open.

Instantly a third maiden appeared, far fairer than either of the others; with the water of the fountain he [17]sprinkled her the moment she appeared, and she vanished not, but staid with him and loved him.

Instantly, a third maiden appeared, much more beautiful than the others; he sprinkled her with the water from the fountain the moment she showed up, and she didn't disappear but stayed with him and loved him.

Then he said, ‘You must stay here in this bower while I go on home and fetch a retinue worthy to escort you.’

Then he said, ‘You need to stay here in this bower while I go home and get a proper escort for you.’

In a palace opposite the fountain lived a black Saracen woman,3 and just then she went down to the fountain to draw water, and as she looked into the water she said, ‘My mistress says that I am so ugly, but I am so fair, therefore I break the pitcher and the little pitcher.’4

In a palace facing the fountain lived a black Saracen woman, 3 and at that moment she went down to the fountain to fetch water, and as she gazed into the water she said, ‘My mistress says I’m so ugly, but I’m actually quite beautiful, so I’ll break the jug and the little jug.’ 4

Then she looked up in the bower, and seeing the beautiful maiden, she called her down, and caressed her, and stroked her hair, and praised her beauty; but as she stroked her hair she took out a magic pin, and stuck it into her head, and instantly the maiden became a dove and perched on the side of the fountain.

Then she looked up in the bower, and seeing the beautiful young woman, she called her down, hugged her, and stroked her hair, praising her beauty; but as she stroked her hair, she took out a magical pin and stuck it into her head, and instantly the young woman turned into a dove and perched on the edge of the fountain.

Then she broke the pitcher and the little pitcher, and the prince came back.

Then she broke the pitcher and the little pitcher, and the prince returned.

When the prince saw the ugly black woman standing in the bower where he had left his beautiful maiden, he was quite bewildered, and looked all about for her.

When the prince saw the ugly black woman standing in thebower where he had left his beautiful maiden, he was quite bewildered, and looked all about for her.

‘I am she whom you seek, prince,’ said the woman. ‘It is the sun has changed me thus while standing here waiting for you; but all will come right when I get away from the sun.’

‘I am the one you're looking for, prince,’ said the woman. ‘It’s the sun that has changed me while I've been standing here waiting for you; but everything will be fine once I get away from the sun.’

The prince did not know what to make of it, but there was no help for it but to take her and trust to her coming right when she got away from the sun. He took her home, therefore, and right grand preparations were made for the royal marriage. Tapestries were hung on the walls, and flowers strewed the floor, while in the kitchen was the cook as busy as a bee, preparing I know not how many dishes for the royal banquet.

The prince was unsure how to handle the situation, but there was no choice but to take her and trust that she would be fine once she got away from the sun. So, he took her home, and they made lavish preparations for the royal wedding. Tapestries were hung on the walls, flowers covered the floor, and in the kitchen, the cook was as busy as ever, preparing who-knows-how-many dishes for the royal feast.

Then, lo, there came and perched on the kitchen window a little dove, and sang, ‘Cook, cook, for whom are you cooking; for the son of the king, or the Saracen Moor? May the cook fall asleep, and may all the viands be burnt!’5 [18]

Then, suddenly, a little dove landed on the kitchen window and sang, ‘Cook, cook, who are you cooking for; the king’s son or the Saracen Moor? May the cook fall asleep, and may all the food be burned!’5 [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

After this nothing would go right in the kitchen; every day all the dishes got burnt, and it was impossible to give the wedding banquet, because there was nothing fit to send up to the table. Then the king’s son came into the kitchen to learn what had happened, and they showed him the dove which had done all. ‘Sweet little dove!’ said the prince, and, catching it in his hand, began to caress it; thus he felt the pin in its head, and pulled it out. Instantly his own fair maiden stood before him, white as snow, rosy as blood. Then the mystery was cleared up, and there was great rejoicing, and the old witch was burnt.

After that, nothing went right in the kitchen; every day all the dishes got burnt, and it was impossible to hold the wedding banquet because there was nothing good enough to serve at the table. Then the prince came into the kitchen to see what had happened, and they showed him the dove that was responsible. “Sweet little dove!” said the prince, and, catching it in his hand, started to pet it; that's when he felt the pin in its head and pulled it out. Instantly, his own beautiful maiden appeared before him, white as snow and rosy as blood. Then everything was explained, and there was great celebration, and the old witch was burned.

[This story, besides its similarities with those mentioned in note of the foregoing, is substantially the same as ‘Die weisse u. die schwarze Braut’ in Grimm (with his ‘Schneeweisschen u. Rosenroth’ it seems to have nothing in common, though the words ‘Snow-white and rose-red’ suggest it); but its commencement is different. The German Tale of Sneewittchen (Grimm, [19]p. 206 has also much similarity with it: a queen sat working in a window framed with ebony; she pricks her finger, and three drops of blood that fall on the snow suggest the wish that her child may be fair as snow, red as blood, and her hair as dark as ebony. Her wishes are fulfilled, and she dies. She is succeeded by a witch-stepmother, from whom the child of wishes suffers many things, but the witch is ultimately danced to death in red-hot iron shoes. A link between them is supplied by the next following, in which the opening agrees with the German story. In Schneller’s ‘Legends of the Italian Tirol’ are two, with a title similar to the Roman one. In the first (‘I tre aranci’) the girl becomes the property of a fairy, as in Filagranata. She is sent to fetch three oranges, which she does by the help of five gifts given her by an old man; but the whole ends in the good child wishing as her only reward to be restored to her mother. The other is called ‘L’amor dei tre aranci.’ In this the prince breaks a witch’s milkjug while playing at ball, and in revenge she tells him he shall not marry till he finds ‘the Love of the three oranges,’ which he similarly obtains by the help of five gifts received of an old woman; when he opens them, the story goes on just like the Roman one, the verse of the dove being a little different:—

[This story, aside from its similarities with those mentioned earlier, is largely the same as ‘The white and the black bride’ in Grimm (although it doesn’t share anything in common with his ‘Snow White and Rose Red’, despite the title ‘Snow-white and rose-red’ suggesting otherwise); however, its beginning is different. The German tale of Sneewittchen (Grimm, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]p. 206) also has much in common: a queen works at a window framed with ebony; she pricks her finger, and three drops of blood fall on the snow, leading her to wish her child to be fair as snow, red as blood, and have hair as dark as ebony. Her wishes come true, and she dies. She is succeeded by a witch-stepmother, from whom the wishful child endures many hardships, but the witch ultimately meets her end by being danced to death in red-hot iron shoes. A connection between them is established by the following tale, which opens similarly to the German story. In Schneller’s ‘Legends of the Italian Tirol’ are two stories with titles similar to the Roman one. In the first (‘I tre aranci’), the girl becomes the property of a fairy, much like in Filagranata. She is sent to fetch three oranges, which she does with the help of five gifts given to her by an old man; however, it concludes with the good child wishing for nothing more than to be reunited with her mother. The other is titled ‘L’amor dei tre aranci.’ In this story, a prince accidentally breaks a witch’s milk jug while playing ball, and in retaliation, she curses him, stating he won't marry until he finds ‘the Love of the three oranges.’ He similarly gets this love with the help of five gifts he receives from an old woman; when he opens the oranges, the story continues similarly to the Roman one, although the verse of the dove differs slightly:]

Cogo, bel cogo,

Cogo, nice cogo,

Endormeazate al fogo,

End your fire,

Che l’arrosto se possa brusar,

Let the roast be burned,

E la fiola (figlia) della stria non ne possa magnar.

E la fiola (figlia) della strega non ne possa mangiare.

and there is nothing about ‘fair as snow, rosy as blood,’ in it. He has another, ‘Quel dalla coda di oro,’ in which three golden apples or balls play a prominent part, but it belongs to another group. A second version of this, entitled ‘I pomi d’ oro,’ however, is a strange mixture of the various Tirolean and Roman versions.

and there’s nothing about ‘fair as snow, rosy as blood’ in it. He has another, ‘Golden tail duck,’ where three golden apples or balls are a key feature, but it’s part of a different group. A second version of this, called ‘I golden apples,’ though, is a strange mix of the various Tirolean and Roman versions.

The Hungarian story of ‘Vas Laczi’ (Iron Ladislas) begins, like ‘L’amor dei tre aranci,’ by a young prince getting into a scrape with a witch, this time by breaking her basket of eggs. His punishment is the fulfilment of his first wish, and his first wish happens to be a pettish one, that the earth might swallow up his three sisters; as one of them is said to be always dressed like the sun, the second like the moon, and the third like the stars, we have [20]a link with the German Marienkind and the Tirolean Klein-Else. Afterwards Iron Ladislas goes in search of his sisters, and encounters many heroic adventures and many transformations, in one of which a tree in a dragon’s garden with golden apples is a prominent detail.

The Hungarian story of ‘Vas Laczi’ (Iron Ladislas) starts, like ‘The Love for Three Oranges,’ with a young prince getting into trouble with a witch, this time for breaking her basket of eggs. His punishment is to have his first wish granted, which turns out to be a childish one: he wishes that the earth could swallow his three sisters. One of them is said to always dress like the sun, the second like the moon, and the third like the stars, giving us [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] a connection to the German Marienkind and the Tirolean Klein-Else. After that, Iron Ladislas sets out to find his sisters and goes through many heroic adventures and transformations, including a notable moment with a tree in a dragon’s garden that has golden apples.

A tree with golden fruit is also an important incident in the principal and most popular of Hungarian myths, that of ‘Tündér Ilona’ (Fairy Helen). As it is seen depicted on the thirteen compartments of the grand staircase walls of the National Club at Pest, Tündér Ilona appears in the first as the Goddess or Queen of Summer held in thrall by the stern witch the Goddess or Queen of Winter. She is seen planting in the territory of the Earth-King a tree which represents her earnest longings after freedom, and committing it to the benign influence of the Sun-King.

A tree with golden fruit is also an important moment in the main and most well-known of Hungarian myths, that of ‘Tündér Ilona’ (Fairy Helen). It is portrayed on the thirteen sections of the grand staircase walls of the National Club in Pest. In the first scene, Tündér Ilona appears as the Goddess or Queen of Summer, captivated by the strict witch, the Goddess or Queen of Winter. She is shown planting a tree in the territory of the Earth-King, which symbolizes her deep yearning for freedom, and entrusting it to the kind influence of the Sun-King.

The second shows this mystical tree bearing its golden fruit, which the beautiful Fairy, as if ashamed of her boldness, is hasting to pluck off, borne on a chariot formed of obedient swans. The Wind-genius wafts poppy seeds over the eyes of the armed guard the Winter-Queen had set round the tree, and lulls them to sleep.

The second image depicts this magical tree with its golden fruit, which the lovely Fairy, seemingly shy about her daring, is rushing to pick. She is carried on a chariot made of obedient swans. The Wind-spirit blows poppy seeds over the eyes of the armed guards the Winter-Queen placed around the tree, putting them to sleep.

In the third Argilus, the Earth-Prince, is seen surprising in his (up till then vain) nightly attempt to gather the golden fruit, Tündér Ilona’s departing convoy. He aims an arrow at the coy plunderer; then suddenly a glance from her pierces his heart instead, and he lets the arrow harmlessly strike the ground.

In the third Argilus, the Earth-Prince is caught off guard during his previously futile nightly quest to collect the golden fruit from Tündér Ilona's departing convoy. He takes aim at the sly thief; but then, a look from her suddenly strikes his heart, causing him to let the arrow fall harmlessly to the ground.

The fourth portrays the happy union of Ilona and Argilus, Summer and Earth; but the Winter-Queen comes by enraged at their successful defiance of her, and cuts off Ilona’s beautiful golden locks. (The people have it that these locks borne along by the winds planted the Puszta with the beautiful long feathery grass which they call ‘Orphan-girl’s hair’). In the distance are seen the parents of the Earth-Prince hurrying forward in search of their son.

The fourth depicts the joyful union of Ilona and Argilus, representing Summer and Earth; but the Winter Queen arrives, furious at their successful rebellion against her, and cuts off Ilona's beautiful golden hair. (Legend has it that this hair, carried by the winds, helped grow the beautiful long feathery grass known as ‘Orphan-girl’s hair’ in the Puszta). In the distance, the Earth Prince's parents are seen rushing forward in search of their son.

The fifth shows Tündér Ilona waking from her delicious slumber, and on discovering the loss of the mantle of her hair, hasting back in agony to her swan-chariot. Argilus in vain stretches out his arms after her, and prays her to remain always with him. [21]

The fifth shows Tündér Ilona waking up from her blissful sleep, and upon realizing her hair mantle is gone, she rushes back in distress to her swan chariot. Argilus helplessly reaches out for her and begs her to stay with him forever. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

In the sixth the scene is changed to the dwelling of the Earth-King. Prince Argilus is taking leave of his parents as he starts on his perilous journey, determined to deliver the captive Fairy.

In the sixth, the scene shifts to the home of the Earth-King. Prince Argilus is saying goodbye to his parents as he embarks on his dangerous journey, determined to rescue the captive Fairy.

In the seventh the Earth-Prince has advanced on his journey as far as the dwelling of a giant, of whom he asks counsel, and who appoints him three witches to show the way to regain the Tündér.

In the seventh, the Earth-Prince has traveled as far as a giant's home, where he seeks advice. The giant directs him to three witches who will guide him on how to reclaim the Tündér.

In the eighth he is seen victorious in a late conflict with three giants, from each of whom he has succeeded in gaining an instrument necessary for his purpose; from one a switch, from another a pipe, from the third a conjuring mantle. The giants throw down masses of rock upon him, but he spreads out the conjuring mantle, and committing himself to it, floats securely through the air.

In the eighth, he is seen winning a fight against three giants, from each of whom he has managed to get an item he needs; from one a switch, from another a pipe, and from the third a magical cloak. The giants hurl large boulders at him, but he spreads out the magical cloak, and as he jumps into it, he floats safely through the air.

In the ninth Argilus has reached the Winter-Witch’s border, and prepares to engage in combat with the dragon who guards it.

In the ninth Argilus has reached the Winter-Witch’s border and is getting ready to fight the dragon that guards it.

The tenth is highly sensational. The Winter-Witch has thrown a deep sleep over him, and the poor Summer-Fairy strives to awaken him in vain.

The tenth is really dramatic. The Winter-Witch has put him into a deep sleep, and the poor Summer-Fairy is trying desperately to wake him up, but it's no use.

In the eleventh the ardent desires of Tündér Ilona have prevailed over all the enchantments of the Winter-Witch, and at her prayer there rises up from the innermost region of the earth the fairy Iron-Queen, who brings the Tátos, the winged magic horse who is to bear the Prince through all dangers to certain victory.

In the eleventh, the passionate wishes of Tündér Ilona have overcome all the spells of the Winter-Witch, and at her request, the beautiful Iron-Queen emerges from the depths of the earth, bringing with her the Tátos, the magical winged horse that will carry the Prince through every danger to guaranteed success.

The twelfth shows Argilus and Ilona once more united, enthroned side by side, and subjects bearing them offerings.

The twelfth shows Argilus and Ilona once again together, seated next to each other on a throne, with people presenting them with offerings.

The thirteenth is a large composition symbolising the mystic union of Earth and Summer, whence sprang, says the myth, Autumn with her abundant fruits, and the great god Pan, the author of all productiveness, who called the land of his birth after his own name and blessed it with fecundity above all nations of the earth. The tree of golden fruit, the first occasion of the auspicious meeting which led to this union, is again introduced, and Tündér Ilona is again clothed in her luxuriant mantle of golden hair.] [22]

The thirteenth is a large piece representing the mystical connection between Earth and Summer, from which, according to the myth, Autumn emerged with her plentiful fruits, along with the great god Pan, the source of all fertility. He named the land where he was born after himself and blessed it with prosperity above all other nations. The tree of golden fruit, the initial setting for the fortunate meeting that brought about this union, is mentioned again, and Tündér Ilona is once more adorned in her magnificent mantle of golden hair. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘I tre Melangoli di amore;’ melangolo or merangolo, or merangola, an ungrafted orange. See note to ‘Filagranata.’ ↑

1 'The Three Melancholies of Love;' melangolo or merangolo, or merangola, an ungrafted orange. See note to ‘Filagranata.’ ↑

2 ‘Caccia,’ though usually translated by ‘hunt,’ is used for all kinds of sport. Bazzarini says it even includes ‘pallone’ and other games; but it is in common use for shooting small birds as for hunting quadrupeds. ↑

2 ‘Caccia,’ while typically translated as ‘hunt,’ refers to various types of sports. Bazzarini mentions that it even encompasses ‘pallone’ and other games; however, it’s commonly used for shooting small birds just as much as for hunting four-legged animals. ↑

3 ‘Mora Saracena,’ a black Saracen woman; ‘mora’ is in constant use for a dark-coloured person. Senhor de Saraiva tells me that a so-called ‘Mora encantada’ figures as one of the favourite personages in Portuguese traditionary tales; but she is less often an actual Moor than a princess held in thrall by Moorish art, to be set free by Christian chivalry. She is often represented as bound at the bottom of a well. ↑

3 ‘Mora Saracena,’ a Black Saracen woman; ‘mora’ is commonly used to refer to a dark-skinned person. Senhor de Saraiva tells me that a so-called ‘Mora encantada’ is one of the favorite characters in Portuguese folklore; however, she is less commonly a real Moor and more often a princess who is entranced by Moorish magic, waiting to be rescued by Christian knights. She is frequently depicted as being trapped at the bottom of a well. ↑

4

4

Mia padrona dice che son tanta brutta,

Mia padrona says that I'm so ugly,

E son tanta bella,

She's so beautiful,

Io rompo la brocca e la brocchetta.

Io rompo la brocca e la brocchetta.

This verse would be hardly comprehensible but that the incident is better explained in the more detailed versions of other countries mentioned in note to the last tale. The ugly ‘Mora’ sees the reflection of the face of the beautiful maiden who sits in the tree overlooking the fountain, and takes it for her own. See Campbell’s Tales of the W. Highlands, pp. 56–7, &c. ↑

This verse would be barely understandable if not for the fact that the incident is better explained in the more detailed versions from other countries mentioned in the note to the last tale. The ugly ‘Mora’ sees the reflection of the beautiful maiden sitting in the tree overlooking the fountain and mistakes it for her own. See Campbell’s Tales of the W. Highlands, pp. 56–7, &c. ↑

5

5

Cuoco, cuoco, per chi cucinate,

Cook, cook, for whom you cook,

Pel figlio del rè o per la mora Saracena?

Pel figlio del re o per la mora Saracena?

Il cuoco si possa dormentar’,

Il cuoco può addormentarsi,

E le vivande si possano bruciar’.

E le vivande si possano bruciare.

 ↑

↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

PALOMBELLETTA.1

They say there was a peasant whose wife had died and left him one little girl, who was the most beautiful creature that ever was seen; no one on earth could compare with her for beauty. After a while the peasant married again: this time he married a peasant-woman who had a daughter who was the most deformed object that ever was seen; no cripple on earth could compare with her for deformity; and, moreover, her skin was quite black and shrivelled, and altogether no one could bear to look at her, she was so hideous.

They say there was a farmer whose wife had died and left him with a little girl who was the most beautiful being anyone had ever seen; no one on earth could match her beauty. After some time, the farmer remarried: this time he took a peasant woman who had a daughter who was the most deformed sight anyone had ever seen; no person on earth could compete with her for ugliness; plus, her skin was completely dark and wrinkled, and overall, no one could stand to look at her because she was so unpleasant to behold.

One day when everyone was out, and only the fair daughter at home, the king came by from hunting thirsty, and he stopped at the cottage and asked the fair maid for a glass of water. When he saw how fair she was and with what grace she waited on him, he said, ‘Fair maiden, if you will, I will come back in eight days and make you my wife.’ The maiden answered, ‘Indeed I will it, your Majesty!’ and the king rode away.

One day when everyone was out and only the beautiful young woman was at home, the king passed by on his hunt, thirsty. He stopped at the cottage and asked the young woman for a glass of water. When he saw how lovely she was and how gracefully she served him, he said, ‘Beautiful maiden, if you agree, I will come back in eight days and make you my wife.’ The young woman replied, ‘I would be honored, your Majesty!’ and the king rode off.

When the stepmother came home the simple maiden told her all that had happened, and she answered her deceitfully, congratulating her on her good fortune. Before the day came round, however, she shut the fair maiden in the cellar. When the king came she went out to meet him with a smiling face, saying, ‘Good day, Sire! What is your royal pleasure?’ And the king answered, ‘To marry your daughter am I come.’ Then the stepmother brought out her own daughter to him, all wrapped up in a wide mantle, and her face covered with a thick veil, and a hood over that.

When the stepmother got home, the simple girl told her everything that had happened, and the stepmother replied deceitfully, congratulating her on her good luck. However, before the day arrived, she locked the beautiful girl in the cellar. When the king came, she went out to greet him with a smiling face, saying, ‘Good day, Your Majesty! What brings you here today?’ The king replied, ‘I’ve come to marry your daughter.’ Then the stepmother brought out her own daughter to him, all wrapped in a large cloak, with her face covered by a thick veil and a hood on top.

‘Rest assured, good woman, that your daughter will be my tenderest care,’ said the king; ‘but you must take those wrappers off.’

‘Don’t worry, good woman, your daughter will be in my utmost care,’ said the king; ‘but you need to remove those wrappers.’

‘By no means, Sire!’ exclaimed the stepmother. [23]‘And beware you do it not. You have seen how fair she is above all the children of earth. But this exceeding beauty she has on one condition. If one breath of air strike her she loses it all. Therefore, Oh, king! let not the veil be removed.’

‘Not at all, Your Majesty!’ the stepmother exclaimed. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] ‘And please, don't let that happen. You've seen how beautiful she is compared to all the other children. But this incredible beauty comes with a catch. If even a single breeze touches her, she'll lose it all. So, oh king, please don't take off the veil.’

When the king heard that he called for another veil, and another hood, and wrapping her still more carefully round, handed her into the carriage he had brought for her, shut the door close, and rode away on horseback by her side.

When the king heard this, he called for another veil and another hood, and wrapping her up even more securely, he helped her into the carriage he had brought for her, shut the door tightly, and rode away on horseback beside her.

When they arrived at the palace the hideous daughter of the stepmother was married to the king all wrapt up in her veils.

When they arrived at the palace, the ugly daughter of the stepmother was married to the king, all wrapped up in her veils.

The stepmother, however, went into her room, full of triumph at what she had done. ‘But what am I to do with the other girl!’ she said to herself; ‘somehow or other some day she will get out of the cellar, and the king will see her, and it will be worse for my daughter than before.’ And as she knew not what to do she went to a witch to help her. ‘This is what you must do,’ said the witch; ‘take this pin’ (and she gave her a long pin with a gold head), ‘and put it into the head of the maiden, and she will become a dove. Then have ready a cage, and keep her in it, and no one will ever see her for a maiden more.’

The stepmother, however, went into her room, feeling victorious about what she had accomplished. ‘But what am I going to do with the other girl!’ she said to herself; ‘sooner or later, she will escape from the cellar, and the king will see her, which will be even worse for my daughter than it was before.’ Not knowing what else to do, she went to a witch for help. ‘This is what you need to do,’ said the witch; ‘take this pin’ (and she handed her a long pin with a gold head), ‘and stick it in the girl’s head, and she will turn into a dove. Then prepare a cage and keep her in it, and no one will ever see her as a girl again.’

The stepmother went therefore, and bought a cage, and taking the large pin2 down into the cellar, she drove the pin into the fair maiden’s head, holding open the cage as she did so.

The stepmother then went and bought a cage, and taking the large pin2 down into the cellar, she drove the pin into the young woman’s head while keeping the cage open.

As soon as the pin entered the maiden’s head she became a dove, but instead of flying into the cage she flew over the stepmother’s head far away out of sight.

As soon as the pin went into the girl’s head, she turned into a dove, but instead of flying into the cage, she flew over her stepmother’s head and far out of sight.

On she flew till she came to the king’s palace, right against the window of the kitchen where the cook was ready preparing a great dinner for the king. The cook looked round as he heard the poor little dove beating its frightened breast against the window, and, fearful lest it should hurt itself, he opened the window. [24]

On she flew until she reached the king’s palace, right by the kitchen window where the cook was busy preparing a big dinner for the king. The cook turned when he heard the poor little dove frantically bumping its scared breast against the window, and, worried it might hurt itself, he opened the window. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

In flew the dove as soon as he opened the window, and flew three times round his head, singing each time as she did so:—‘O cook! O cook! of the royal kitchen, what shall we do with the Queen? All of you put yourselves to sleep, and may the dinner be burnt up!’3

In flew the dove as soon as he opened the window, and flew three times around his head, singing each time as she did so:—‘O cook! O cook! of the royal kitchen, what should we do about the Queen? Everyone, go to sleep, and let the dinner get burnt up!'3

As soon as she had sung this the third time the cook sank into a deep sleep; the dinner from want of attention was all burnt up; and when the king sat down to table, there was nothing to set before him.

As soon as she sang this for the third time, the cook fell into a deep sleep; the dinner was completely burned due to lack of attention; and when the king sat down to eat, there was nothing to serve him.

‘Where is the dinner?’ exclaimed the king, as he looked over the empty table to which he had brought his bride, still wrapt up in her thick veils.

‘Where's the dinner?’ exclaimed the king, as he looked over the empty table to which he had brought his bride, still wrapped up in her thick veils.

‘Please your Majesty, the dinner is all burnt up as black as charcoal,’ said the chamberlain; ‘and the cook sits in the kitchen so fast asleep that no one can wake him.’

‘Your Majesty, the dinner is completely burnt, black as charcoal,’ said the chamberlain; ‘and the cook is in the kitchen, sound asleep, and no one can wake him.’

‘Go and fetch me a dinner from the inn,’ said the king; ‘and the cook, when he comes to himself, let him be brought before me.’

‘Go get me dinner from the inn,’ said the king; ‘and when the cook comes to his senses, have him brought before me.’

After a time the cook came to himself, and the chamberlain brought him before the king.

After a while, the cook regained his senses, and the chamberlain brought him before the king.

‘Tell me how this happened,’ said the king to the cook. ‘All these years you have served me well and faithfully; how is it that to-day, when the dinner should have been of the best in honour of my bride, everything is burnt up, and the king’s table is left empty?’

‘Tell me how this happened,’ said the king to the cook. ‘All these years, you have served me well and faithfully; how is it that today, when the dinner should have been the best in honor of my bride, everything is burnt, and the king’s table is left empty?’

‘Indeed, the dinner had been of the best, Sire,’ answered the cook. ‘So had I prepared it. Only, when all was nearly ready, there came a dove flying in at the window, and flew three times round my head, singing each time,

‘Yes, the dinner was excellent, Your Majesty,’ the cook replied. ‘I had prepared it well. But just when everything was almost ready, a dove flew in through the window and circled around my head three times, singing each time,

Cook of the royal kitchen,

Royal chef,

What shall we do with the Queen?

What should we do with the Queen?

Sleep ye all soundly, and burnt be the meal

Sleep well, everyone, and may the meal be ruined.

Which on the King’s board should have been.

Which should have been on the King’s board.

After that a deep sleep fell on me and I know nothing more of what happened.’ [25]

After that, I fell into a deep sleep and I don’t remember anything else that happened. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘That must have been a singular dove,’ said the king; ‘bring her to me and you shall be forgiven.’

‘That must have been a unique dove,’ said the king; ‘bring her to me and you’ll be forgiven.’

The cook went down to look for the dove, and found her midway, flying to meet him.

The cook went down to search for the dove and found her halfway, flying to greet him.

‘There is the dove, Sire,’ said the cook, handing the dove to the king.

‘Here’s the dove, Your Majesty,’ said the cook, handing the dove to the king.

‘So you spoilt my dinner, did you palombelletta,’ said the king. ‘But never mind; you are a dear little dove, and I forgive you,’ and he put her in his breast and stroked her. Thus, as he went on stroking and fondling her, calling her ‘palombelletta bella!’ he felt the gold head of the stepmother’s big pin through the feathers. ‘What have you got in your head, palombelletta dear?’ he said, and pulled the pin out.

‘So you ruined my dinner, didn’t you, little dove,’ said the king. ‘But it’s okay; you’re such a sweet little dove, and I forgive you,’ and he tucked her into his chest and stroked her. As he continued to stroke and pet her, calling her ‘beautiful little dove!’ he felt the gold head of the stepmother’s large pin through her feathers. ‘What’s stuck in your head, dear little dove?’ he asked, pulling out the pin.

Instantly the fair maiden stood before him in all her surpassing beauty as he had seen her at the first. ‘Are you not my fair maiden who promised to marry me?’ exclaimed the king.

Instantly, the beautiful young woman appeared before him, just as stunning as he remembered her. “Aren’t you the lovely lady who promised to marry me?” the king exclaimed.

‘The very same, and no other,’ replied the maiden.

"The very same, and no one else," replied the girl.

‘Then who is this one?’ said the king, and he turned to the stepmother’s daughter beside him, and tore off her veil. Then he understood the deceit that had been played on him, and he sent for the stepmother, and ordered that she and her daughter should be punished with death.

‘Then who is this one?’ said the king as he turned to the stepmother’s daughter next to him and pulled off her veil. It was then that he realized the trick that had been played on him, so he called for the stepmother and ordered that she and her daughter be punished with death.

[26]

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

[The next group most prolific in variety of incidents is that in which the stepmother represents the evil genius of the story; sometimes there is a daughter only, sometimes a daughter and a son, and sometimes, but less frequent, a son only. Allied to it is that in which the character devolves on two elder sisters, not specified to be stepsisters, and the incidents in these two branches are closely interwoven. I give the first place to Cinderella, because it has acquired a homely importance.]

[The next group most prolific in variety of incidents is that in which the stepmother represents the evil genius of the story; sometimes there is a daughter only, sometimes a daughter and a son, and sometimes, but less frequent, a son only. Allied to it is that in which the character devolves on two elder sisters, not specified to be stepsisters, and the incidents in these two branches are closely interwoven. I give the first place to Cinderella, because it has acquired a homely importance.]

1 ‘Palombelletta,’ dear little dove. ↑

1 ‘Palombelletta,’ sweet little dove. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Spillone,’ big pin. This magic use of long pins driven into the head is one of the frequent charges against witches. See numerous instances at various epochs given by Del Rio, ‘Disquisitionum Magicarum,’ lib. iii. p. 1, 2 iv. s. II., where he mentions among others the cases of two midwives who were convicted in Germany of having destroyed, the one forty, the other innumerable, new-born infants in this manner. ↑

2 ‘Spillone,’ meaning big pin. The use of long pins stuck into the head is one of the common accusations against witches. See many examples from different times provided by Del Rio, ‘Magic Treatises,’ lib. iii. p. 1, 2 iv. s. II., where he mentions, among others, the cases of two midwives who were found guilty in Germany of having killed, one forty, the other countless, newborn infants in this way. ↑

3

3

Cuoco! cuoco! di reale cucina

Cook! Cook! of royal cuisine

Che faremo della regina?

What will we do with the queen?

Tutti posse a dormentar’,

Everybody can fall asleep.

E la pranza posse bruciar’.

The lunch can burn.

The words have been clipt in repetition. ‘Posse,’ in the third line, must be a corruption of ‘si pongono,’ from the verb ‘ponere;’ and in the fourth line, of ‘si puo,’ from the verb ‘potere.’ ↑

The words have been shortened through repetition. 'Posse,' in the third line, must be a mistake for 'si pongono,' from the verb 'ponere;' and in the fourth line, of 'si puo,' from the verb 'potere.' ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

LA CENORIENTOLA.1

They say there was a merchant who had three daughters. When he went out into foreign countries to buy wares he told them he would bring them rare presents whatever they might ask for. The eldest asked for precious jewels, the second for rich shawls, but the youngest who was always kept out of sight in the kitchen by the others, and made to do the dirty work of the house, asked only for a little bird.

They say there was a merchant who had three daughters. When he traveled to other countries to buy goods, he told them he would bring back unique gifts, whatever they wanted. The oldest daughter asked for expensive jewels, the second asked for luxurious shawls, but the youngest, who was always hidden away in the kitchen by the others and made to do the chores, only asked for a little bird.

‘So you want a little bird, do you! What is the use of a little bird to you!’ said the sisters mocking her, and ‘Papa will have something else to think of than minding little birds on a long journey.’

‘So you want a little bird, huh? What good is a little bird to you!’ the sisters teased her, and ‘Dad will have more important things to worry about than taking care of little birds on a long trip.’

‘But you will bring me a little bird, won’t you, papa?’ pleaded the little girl; ‘and I can tell you that if you don’t the boat you are on will stand still, and will neither move backwards nor forwards.’

‘But you will bring me a little bird, won’t you, Dad?’ pleaded the little girl; ‘and I can tell you that if you don’t, the boat you’re on will stand still and won’t move backward or forward.’

The merchant went away into a far country and bought precious wares, but he forgot all about the little bird. It was only when he had got on board a boat to go down a mighty river on his homeward way, and the captain found the boat would not move by any means, that he remembered what his daughter had said to him. Then while the captain was wondering how it was the boat would not move, he went to him and told him what he had done. But the captain said, ‘That is easily set right. Here [27]close by is a garden full of thousands of birds; you can easily creep in and carry off one. One will never be missed among so many thousands.’

The merchant traveled to a distant land and bought valuable goods, but he completely forgot about the little bird. It wasn't until he boarded a boat to navigate a great river on his way home, and the captain discovered that the boat wouldn't move at all, that he recalled what his daughter had told him. While the captain was puzzled about why the boat was stuck, the merchant approached him and explained what he had done. The captain replied, "That’s an easy fix. Right nearby is a garden full of thousands of birds; you can easily sneak in and take one. One won't be missed among so many thousands."

The merchant followed his directions and went into the garden where there were so many thousand birds that he easily caught one. The captain gave him a cage, and he brought it safely home and gave it to his daughter.

The merchant followed the instructions and went into the garden, where there were thousands of birds, making it easy for him to catch one. The captain gave him a cage, and he safely brought it home and gave it to his daughter.

That night the elder sisters said as usual, ‘We are going to the ball; you will stay at home and sweep up the place and mind the fire.’

That night, the older sisters said, as they always did, ‘We’re going to the ball; you’ll stay home and clean up the house and keep the fire going.’

Now all the birds in the garden which the captain had pointed out to the merchant were fairies; so when the others were gone to the ball and the youngest daughter went into her room to her bird, she said to it:

Now all the birds in the garden that the captain had shown to the merchant were fairies. So when the others had gone to the ball and the youngest daughter returned to her room to see her bird, she said to it:

Give me splendid raiment,

Give me amazing clothes,

And I will give you my rags.2

And I will give you my old clothes.2

Immediately, the bird gave her the most beautiful suit of clothes, with jewels and golden slippers, and a splendid carriage and prancing horses. With these the maiden went to the ball which was at the king’s palace. The moment the king saw her he fell in love with her, and would dance with no one else. The sisters were furious with the stranger because the king danced all night with her and not with them, but they had no idea it was their sister.

Immediately, the bird gave her the most beautiful outfit, complete with jewels and golden slippers, along with a stunning carriage and prancing horses. With these, the young woman went to the ball at the king’s palace. The moment the king saw her, he fell in love with her and wouldn’t dance with anyone else. The sisters were furious at the stranger because the king danced with her all night and not with them, but they had no idea it was their sister.

The second night she did the same, only the bird gave her a yet more beautiful dress, and the king did all he could to find out who she was, but she would not tell him. Then he asked her name and she said,—

The second night, she did the same thing, but the bird gave her an even more beautiful dress, and the king did everything he could to discover who she was, but she refused to tell him. Then he asked for her name, and she said,—

‘They call me Cenorientola.’

"They call me Cenorientola."

‘Cenorientola,’ said the king; ‘what a pretty name! I never heard it before.’

‘Cenorientola,’ said the king; ‘what a lovely name! I’ve never heard it before.’

He had also told the servants that they must run after her carriage and see where it went; but though they ran as fast as the wind they could not come near the pace of her horses.

He had also told the servants that they had to chase after her carriage and see where it went; but even though they ran as fast as they could, they couldn’t keep up with her horses.

The third night the sisters went to the ball and left [28]her at home, and she staid at home with her little bird and said to it,—

The third night the sisters went to the ball and left [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]her at home, and she stayed at home with her little bird and said to it,—

Give me splendid raiment,

Give me elegant clothing,

And I will give you my rags.3

And I'll give you my rags.3

Then the bird gave her a more splendid suit still, and the king paid her as much attention as ever. But to the servants he had said, ‘If you don’t follow fast enough tonight to see where she lives I will have all your heads cut off.’ So they used such extra diligence that she in her hurry to get away dropped one of her golden slippers; this the servants picked up and brought to the king.

Then the bird gave her an even more fabulous outfit, and the king continued to show her the same level of attention. But to the servants, he had said, ‘If you don’t keep up tonight to see where she lives, I’ll have all your heads cut off.’ So they worked extra hard, and in her rush to escape, she dropped one of her golden slippers; the servants picked it up and took it to the king.

The next day the king sent a servant into every house in the city till he should find her whom the golden slipper fitted, but there was not one; last of all he came to the merchant’s house, and he tried it on the two elder daughters and it would fit neither. Then he said,—

The next day, the king sent a servant into every house in the city to find the one the golden slipper would fit, but it didn’t fit anyone. Finally, he arrived at the merchant’s house, and he tried it on the two older daughters, but it didn’t fit either. Then he said,—

‘There must be some other maiden in this house;’ but they only shrugged their shoulders. ‘It is impossible; another maiden there must be, for every maiden in the city we have seen and the slipper fits none, therefore one there must be here.’

‘There has to be another girl in this house;’ but they just shrugged. ‘It's impossible; there must be another girl because we’ve seen every girl in the city and the slipper fits none, so there has to be one here.’

Then they said,—

Then they said,—

‘In truth we have a little sister who sits in the kitchen and does the work. She is called Cenorientola, because she is always smutty. We are sure she never went to a ball, and it would only soil the beautiful gold slipper to let her put her smutty feet into it.’

‘Actually, we have a little sister who stays in the kitchen and does all the chores. Her name is Cenorientola because she’s always dirty. We know she’s never been to a ball, and it would just ruin the beautiful gold slipper to let her put her dirty feet in it.’

‘It may be so,’ replied the king’s servant, ‘but we must try, nevertheless.’

‘It might be true,’ replied the king’s servant, ‘but we have to try, anyway.’

So they fetched her, and the king’s servant found that the shoe fitted her; and they went and told the king all.

So they brought her in, and the king's servant found that the shoe fit her; then they went and told the king everything.

The moment the king heard them say Cenorientola he said,—‘That is she! It is the name she gave me.’

The moment the king heard them say Cenorientola, he said, "That's her! That's the name she gave me."

So he sent a carriage to fetch her in all haste. The bird meantime had given her a more beautiful dress than any she had had before, and priceless jewels, so that when they came to fetch her she looked quite fit to be a queen. [29]Then the king married her; and though her sisters had behaved so ill to her she gave them two fine estates, so that all were content.

So he sent a carriage to pick her up quickly. In the meantime, the bird had given her a more beautiful dress than any she had ever worn, along with priceless jewels, so that when they came to get her, she looked ready to be a queen. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]Then the king married her; and even though her sisters had treated her poorly, she gave them two fine estates, so everyone was satisfied.

[The counterparts to the story are endless. In Grimm’s ‘Aschenputtel’ (p. 93), the nominal German counterpart, there is a stepmother as well as two sisters, and the story turns upon the gifts each daughter craves of the father, an episode which occurs in Roman versions with different titles. His ‘Die drei Männlein im Walde’ (‘Three Little Men in the Wood’) is like it, and the other versions too, and the episode in it of the good daughter receiving the faculty of dropping a gold coin from her mouth at every word she utters, is like a Hungarian story, in which no stepmother figures, but the evil genius of the story (the Lady-in-Waiting) is plainly called a witch. In this story it is a princess, from whose footsteps rise gold pieces, her tears are pearls, and her smiles rosebuds. In one of the Siddhi Kür Stories which I have translated as ‘Sagas from the far East’ (p. 49) is a similar incident, and a Spanish equivalent in Note 3. A friend of mine met with a very similar legend in a convent at Quito, concerning a nun called ‘the Rose of Quito,’ out of whose grave a rose-tree is said to have sprung and blossomed on the morrow of her burial. It seems, however, to have an independent origin, as ‘the Rose of Quito’ died within the last 150 years. In the Tirolean ‘Klein-Else,’ or ‘Aschenpfödl,’ to which allusion has already been made, and which answers to it in name, we have a connexion with the last group (as in some of the succeeding Roman versions) in the sun, moon, and star dresses.

[The variations of the story are countless. In Grimm’s ‘Aschenputtel’ (p. 93), the German equivalent features a stepmother and two sisters, and the plot revolves around the gifts each daughter wants from their father, a scene that also appears in Roman versions with different titles. His ‘The three little men in the woods’ (‘Three Little Men in the Wood’) is similar, as are other variations, and in it, the good daughter earns the ability to drop a gold coin from her mouth with every word she speaks, which resembles a Hungarian tale that doesn’t include a stepmother but has a villain (the Lady-in-Waiting) clearly identified as a witch. In that story, a princess causes gold coins to appear from her footsteps, her tears turn into pearls, and her smiles become rosebuds. One of the Siddhi Kür Stories that I translated as ‘Sagas from the Far East’ (p. 49) contains a similar event, along with a Spanish equivalent noted in Note 3. A friend of mine found a closely related legend in a convent in Quito about a nun called ‘the Rose of Quito,’ whose grave is said to have sprouted a rose tree that bloomed the day after her burial. It seems to have an independent origin since ‘the Rose of Quito’ passed away only within the last 150 years. In the Tirolean ‘Klein-Else,’ or ‘Aschenpfödl,’ which has already been mentioned and shares a name with it, we see a connection to the final group (as in some of the later Roman versions) with the dresses representing the sun, moon, and stars.]

Among the Tales of Italian Tirol we find it as Zendrarola, and [30]with a good deal of variation from any other form I have met. The story opens with a dying father as in the North Tirolean ‘Klein-Else,’ but it is only a rich man, not a warrior-baron, and he has three daughters instead of one. He bids them choose what gifts he shall bestow on them before he dies, and the eldest asks for a pair of earrings; the second for a dress; and the youngest for his magic sword, which gives whatever the possessor wishes for. The story is singular in this, that the elder sisters seem to have no spite. The father does not die; but, notwithstanding his recovery, he has nothing more to do with the story further than to give an unwilling consent that the youngest daughter, though his favourite, shall go forth with her sword and roam the world till she finds a husband. She only takes service in a large house in a big town, however; but there falls in love with a melancholy youth, son of a count, who lives opposite. For the sake of being nearer him, she obtains the place of kitchen-maid in his palace, and thus acquires her title of Zendrarola in a very different way from her counterparts in other lands. One day she hears he is going to a ball, and she makes her wishing-sword give her a dress like the sky; and the young Count, who has never admired anyone before, of course falls in love with her. When he comes back, he confides to his lady mother what has occurred, and Zendrarola, now again dressed as a dirty drudge, interposes that the fair one he was extolling was not prettier than herself. He silences her indignantly by giving her a poke with the shovel, and when she meets him next night in some beautiful attire, and he asks her where she comes from, she answers ‘dalla palettada’ (from shovel-blow). The next day the same thing happens, and he gives her a blow with the tongs, and when he asks her in the evening what her country is, she answers ‘majettada’ (tongs-blow); answering to Frustinaia and Stivalaia in the second Roman version of ‘Maria di Legno.’ He gives her a ring, which she sends up in his broth, as Klein-Else does in the pancake, and so he recognises and marries her. In one or two of the Roman versions also, the means of recognition is a ring in place of a slipper.

Among the Tales of Italian Tirol, we find it as Zendrarola, and [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] with quite a bit of variation from any other version I've encountered. The story begins with a dying father, similar to the North Tirolean 'Klein-Else,' but he's just a wealthy man, not a warrior-baron, and he has three daughters instead of one. He asks them to choose what gifts he should give them before he dies. The eldest asks for a pair of earrings, the second for a dress, and the youngest for his magical sword, which grants the possessor whatever they wish for. The unique aspect of this story is that the older sisters don't seem to harbor any jealousy. The father does not die; however, despite recovering, he no longer has an active role in the story except to reluctantly agree that the youngest daughter, his favorite, will set off into the world with her sword to find a husband. She ends up working in a large house in a big town but falls in love with a moody young man, the son of a count, who lives across the street. To be closer to him, she manages to get a job as a kitchen maid in his palace, earning her title of Zendrarola in a very different way than her counterparts in other tales. One day, she hears he's going to a ball, and she uses her wishing sword to create a dress that looks like the sky; naturally, the young Count, who has never admired anyone before, falls in love with her. When he returns, he tells his mother about the beautiful girl he saw, and Zendrarola, now back in her dirty maid outfit, insists that the enchanting girl he was praising isn't prettier than herself. He angrily silences her with a shove from the shovel, and when they meet again the next night and she’s dressed beautifully, and he asks her where she's from, she replies 'dalla palettada' (from shovel-blow). The next day the same thing happens; he hits her with the tongs, and when he asks her that evening where she’s from, she responds ‘majettada’ (from tongs-blow), corresponding to Frustinaia and Stivalaia in the second Roman version of ‘Maria di Legno.’ He gives her a ring, which she sneaks into his broth, just like Klein-Else did with her pancake, leading him to recognize and marry her. In one or two of the Roman versions, the way they recognize each other is also through a ring instead of a slipper.

I do not remember any Cinderella among the Russian Tales, though there are stepmother stories, which pair off with others of the Roman. For Scotch versions I must refer the reader to Campbell’s ‘Highland Tales,’ i. 226, and ii. 292.] [31]

I don't recall any Cinderella stories in the Russian Tales, although there are stories about stepmothers that relate to some of the Roman versions. For Scottish versions, I recommend checking out Campbell’s ‘Highland Tales,’ i. 226, and ii. 292.] [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Cinderella’ is a favourite in all countries, with its promise of compensation to the desolate and oppressed. I only came across it once, however, while making this collection, in its own simple form, and with a name as near its own as Cenorientola. Of course the construction of such words is quite arbitrary, and any Italian can make a dozen such out of any name or word: even in the dictionary the following variations are to be found—‘Cenericcio,’ ‘Cenerognolo,’ ‘Cenerino,’ ‘Ceneroso,’ ‘Cenerugiolo.’ ↑

1 'Cinderella' is loved in every country for its promise of reward to the downtrodden and mistreated. I only encountered it once, though, while putting together this collection, in its most basic form, and with a name that closely resembles its own, Cenorientola. The way such words are formed is completely arbitrary, and any Italian can create a dozen variations from any name or word: even in the dictionary, you can find these variations—‘Cenericcio,’ ‘Cenerognolo,’ ‘Cenerino,’ ‘Ceneroso,’ ‘Cenerugiolo.’ ↑

2

2

Da mi tu panni belli,

Give me your nice clothes,

Ed io te do i cencirelli.

Ed io te do i cencirelli.

 ↑

↑

3

3

Da mi tu abiti belli

Give me your pretty outfits

Ed io te do i stracciarelli.

Ed io te do i stracciarelli.

The same as above: ‘abiti’ and ‘panni’ are convertible, so are ‘cenci’ and ‘straccj.’ ↑

The same as above: ‘clothes’ and ‘panni’ are interchangeable, just like ‘cenci’ and ‘straccj.’ ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

VACCARELLA.1

They say there was once a husband and a wife; but I don’t mean that they were husband and wife of each other. The husband had lost his wife, and the wife had lost her husband, and each had one little daughter. The husband sent his daughter to the wife to be brought up along with her own daughter, and as the girl came every morning to be trained and instructed, the wife used to send a message back by her every evening, saying, ‘Why doesn’t your father marry me? then we should all live together, and you would no longer have this weary walk to take.’

They say there was once a husband and a wife, but I don’t mean that they were married to each other. The husband had lost his wife, and the wife had lost her husband, and each had one little daughter. The husband sent his daughter to the wife to be raised alongside her own daughter, and as the girl came every morning to be taught and cared for, the wife would send a message back with her every evening, saying, ‘Why doesn’t your father marry me? Then we could all live together, and you wouldn’t have to make this tiring walk anymore.’

The father, however, did not see it in the same light; but the teacher2 continued sending the same message. In short,3 at last she carried her point, having previously given a solemn promise to him that Maria, his little girl, should be always as tenderly treated as her own.

The father, however, didn’t see it that way; but the teacher2 kept sending the same message. In short,3 she eventually got her way, having previously given him a serious promise that Maria, his little girl, would always be treated as gently as her own.

Not many months elapsed, however, before she began to show herself a true stepmother. After treating Maria with every kind of harshness, she at last sent her out into the Campagna to tend the cow, so as to keep her out of sight of her father, and estrange him from her. Maria had to keep the cow’s stall clean with fresh litter every day; sometimes she had to take the cow out to grass, and watch that it only grazed over the right piece of land; at other times she had to go out and cut grass for the cow to eat. All this was work enough for one so young; but Maria was a kind-hearted girl, and grew fond of her cow, so that it became a pleasure to her to attend to it.

Not many months went by, though, before she started to act like a true stepmother. After treating Maria with every form of harshness, she finally sent her out into the countryside to take care of the cow, keeping her out of sight of her father and trying to drive a wedge between them. Maria had to clean the cow’s stall with fresh bedding every day; sometimes she had to take the cow out to graze and make sure it only ate from the right patch of land; other times she had to go out and cut grass for the cow to eat. All of this was a lot of work for someone so young, but Maria was a kind-hearted girl and grew attached to her cow, so taking care of it became a joy for her.

When the cruel stepmother saw this she was annoyed to find her so light-hearted over her work, and to vex her more gave her a great heap of hemp to spin. It was in vain that Maria reminded her she had never been taught to spin; the only answer she got was, ‘If you don’t bring it home with you to-night all properly spun you will be [32]finely punished;’ and Maria knew to her cost what that meant.

When the cruel stepmother saw this, she was annoyed to find Maria so cheerful while working, and to irritate her even more, she dumped a huge pile of hemp for her to spin. Maria reminded her that she had never been taught to spin, but all she got in reply was, “If you don’t bring it home tonight all properly spun, you will be [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]finely punished;” and Maria knew from experience what that meant.

When Maria went out into the Campagna that day she was no longer light-hearted; and as she littered down the stall she stroked the cow fondly, and said to her, as she had no one else to complain to, ‘Vaccarella! Vaccarella! what shall I do? I have got all this hemp to spin, and I never learnt spinning. Yet if I don’t get through it somehow I shall get sadly beaten to-night. Dear little cow, tell me what to do!’

When Maria stepped out into the countryside that day, she wasn't cheerful anymore; and as she settled down in the barn, she affectionately stroked the cow and said to her, since she had no one else to vent to, "Vaccarella! Vaccarella! What should I do? I have all this hemp to spin, and I never learned how to spin. But if I don't manage it somehow, I'm going to get in so much trouble tonight. Please, little cow, tell me what to do!"

But the cow was an enchanted cow,4 and when she heard Maria cry she turned round and said quickly and positively:—

But the cow was an enchanted cow,4 and when she heard Maria crying, she turned around and said quickly and confidently:—

Throw it on to the horns of me,

Throw it on my horns,

And go along, cut grass for me!5

And keep going, cut the grass for me!5

Maria did as she was told, went out and cut a good basketful of grass, and imagine her delight on coming back with it to find all the whole lot of hemp beautifully spun.

Maria did what she was told, went out, and cut a nice basketful of grass, and you can imagine her delight when she returned to find that all the hemp was beautifully spun.

The surprise of the stepmother was still greater than hers, at finding that she had got through her task so easily, for she had given her enough to have occupied an ordinary person a week. Next day, therefore, she determined to vex her with a more difficult task, and gave her a quantity of spun hemp6 to weave into a piece of fine cloth. Maria’s pleadings were as fruitless as before, and once more she went to tell her tale of woe to her ‘dear little cow.’

The stepmother was even more shocked than Maria to see that she had completed her task so easily, as she had assigned enough work to keep a typical person busy for a week. The next day, she decided to annoy Maria with a harder task and gave her a bunch of spun hemp6 to weave into a fine piece of cloth. Maria's pleas were as useless as before, and once again she went to share her troubles with her ‘dear little cow.’

Vaccarella readily gave the same answer as before:—

Vaccarella quickly gave the same answer as before:—

Throw it on to the horns of me,

Put it on my horns,

And go along, cut grass for me!

And keep going, cut the grass for me!

Once more, when Maria came back with her basket of grass, she found all her work done, to her great surprise and delight. But her stepmother’s surprise was quite of another order. That Maria should have woven the cloth, not only without instruction, but even without a loom, [33]proved clearly enough she must have had some one to help her—a matter which roused the stepmother’s jealousy in the highest degree, and wherein this help consisted she determined to find out. Accordingly, next day she gave her a shirt to make up, and then posted herself out of sight in a corner of the cow-house to see what happened. Thus she overheard Maria’s complaint to her dear little cow, and Vaccarella’s reply:—

Once again, when Maria returned with her basket of grass, she was amazed and delighted to find all her work completed. However, her stepmother’s surprise was of a different nature. The fact that Maria had woven the cloth not only without any instruction but also without a loom, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]made it clear that someone must have helped her. This incited a great deal of jealousy in the stepmother, and she was determined to discover the nature of that assistance. The next day, she gave Maria a shirt to make and then hid in a corner of the cow-house to see what would happen. Thus, she overheard Maria complaining to her dear little cow and Vaccarella’s response:—

Throw it on to the horns of me,

Throw it on my horns,

And go along, cut grass for me!

And just go ahead and cut the grass for me!

She thus also saw, what Maria did not see, that as soon as she had gone out the cow assumed the form of a woman, and sat down and stitched and stitched away till the shirt was made, and that in a surprisingly short space of time. As soon as it was finished, and before Maria came in, the woman became a cow again.

She also noticed, unlike Maria, that as soon as she left, the cow turned into a woman, sat down, and sewed and sewed until the shirt was made in no time at all. Once it was finished, and before Maria came back, the woman turned back into a cow.

The cruel stepmother determined that Maria should be deprived of a friend who enabled her to set all her hard treatment at defiance, and next morning told her that she was going to kill the cow. Maria was broken-hearted at the announcement, but she knew it was useless to remonstrate; so she only used her greatest speed to reach her ‘dear little cow,’ and warn her of what was going to happen in time to make her escape.

The cruel stepmother decided that Maria should be cut off from a friend who helped her stand up to all the mistreatment, and the next morning she told her that she was going to kill the cow. Maria was heartbroken by the news, but she knew it would be pointless to protest; so she hurried as fast as she could to reach her ‘dear little cow’ and warn her about what was going to happen in time for her to escape.

‘There is no need for me to escape,’ replied Vaccarella; ‘killing will not hurt me. So dry your tears, and don’t be distressed. Only, after they have killed me, put your hand under my heart, and there you will find a golden ball. This ball is yours, so take it out, and whenever you are tired of your present kind of life, you have only to say to it on some fitting occasion—“Golden ball, golden ball, dress me in gold and give me a lover,”7 and you shall see what shall happen.’

‘There’s no need for me to run away,’ Vaccarella said. ‘Killing won’t hurt me. So wipe your tears and don’t stress out. Just, after they’ve killed me, put your hand under my heart, and you’ll find a golden ball there. This ball is yours, so take it out, and whenever you feel tired of your current life, all you have to do is say to it at the right moment—“Golden ball, golden ball, dress me in gold and give me a lover,”7 and you’ll see what happens.’

Vaccarella had no time to say more, for the stepmother arrived just then with a man who slaughtered the cow at her order. [34]

Vaccarella had no time to say more because the stepmother showed up right then with a man who killed the cow at her command. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Under Vaccarella’s heart Maria found the promised golden ball, which she hid away carefully against some fitting occasion for using it arose.

Under Vaccarella’s heart, Maria found the promised golden ball, which she carefully hid away for when the right moment to use it came up.

Not long after there was a novena8 of a great festival, during which Maria’s stepmother, with all her disposition to overwork her, durst not keep her from church, lest the neighbours should cry ‘Shame!’ on her.

Not long after there was a novena8 of a great festival, during which Maria’s stepmother, despite her tendency to overwork her, didn't dare to stop her from going to church, for fear that the neighbors would shout ‘Shame!’ at her.

Maria accordingly went to church with all the rest of the people, and when she had made her way through the crowd to a little distance from her stepmother, she took her golden ball out of her pocket and whispered to it—‘Golden ball, golden ball, dress me in gold and give me a lover.’

Maria went to church with everyone else, and when she managed to get a bit away from her stepmother, she pulled her golden ball out of her pocket and whispered to it, “Golden ball, golden ball, dress me in gold and give me a lover.”

Instantly the golden ball burst gently open and enveloped her, and she came out of it all radiant with beautiful clothing, like a princess. Everybody made way for her in her astonishing brightness.

Instantly, the golden ball opened softly and surrounded her, transforming her into a radiant figure dressed in beautiful clothes, like a princess. Everyone cleared a path for her in her stunning glow.

The eyes of the king’s son were turned upon her, no less than the eyes of all the people; and the prayers were no sooner over than he sent some of his attendants to call her and bring her to him. Before they could reach her, however, Maria had restored her beautiful raiment to the golden ball, and, in the sordid attire in which her stepmother dressed her, she could easily pass through the crowd unperceived.

The king's son was looking at her, just like everyone else, and as soon as the prayers were done, he sent some of his attendants to call her over. However, before they could get to her, Maria had put back her beautiful dress and, in the shabby clothes her stepmother made her wear, she was able to blend into the crowd unnoticed.

At home, her stepmother could not forbear talking, like everyone else in the town, about the maiden in glittering raiment who had appeared in the midst of the church; but, of course, without the remotest suspicion that it was Maria herself. But Maria sat still and said nothing.

At home, her stepmother couldn't help but talk, like everyone else in town, about the girl in sparkling clothes who had shown up in the middle of the church; but, of course, she had no idea it was Maria herself. But Maria sat quietly and said nothing.

So it happened each day of the Novena; for, though Maria was not at all displeased with the appearance and fame of the husband whom her ‘dear little cow’ seemed to have appointed for her, she did not wish to be too easy a prize, and thought it but right to make him take a little trouble to win her. Thus she every day restored all her [35]bright clothing to the golden ball before the prince’s men could overtake her. Only on the last day of the Novena, when the prince, fearful lest it might also be the last on which he would have an opportunity of seeing her, had told them to use extra diligence, they were so near overtaking her that, in the hurry of the moment, she dropped a slipper.9 This the prince’s men eagerly seized, feeling no compunction in wresting it from the mean-looking wench (so Maria now looked) who disputed possession of it with them, not in the least imagining that she could be the radiant being of whom they were in search.

So it happened each day of the Novena; although Maria was not at all unhappy with the looks and reputation of the husband that her ‘dear little cow’ seemed to have chosen for her, she didn't want to be an easy catch and thought it was only fair to make him put in some effort to win her. So, every day she returned all her [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]bright clothing to the golden ball before the prince’s men could catch her. Only on the last day of the Novena, when the prince, worried that this might be his last chance to see her, told them to work extra hard, they got so close to catching her that, in the rush of the moment, she dropped a slipper.9 The prince’s men quickly grabbed it, feeling no guilt in taking it from the plain-looking girl (as Maria now appeared) who was fighting them for it, not imagining for a second that she could be the beautiful figure they were looking for.

The Novena over, Maria once more returned to her ceaseless toil; but the stepmother’s hatred had grown so great that she determined to rid herself of her altogether and in the most cruel way.

The Novena finished, Maria went back to her endless work; but the stepmother's hatred had grown so intense that she decided to get rid of her completely and in the cruelest way possible.

Down in the cellar there stood a large barrel,10 which had grown dirty and mouldy from neglect, and wanted scalding out. ‘Get into the barrel, Maria girl,’ she bid her next morning for her task, ‘and scrape it and rub it well before we scald it.’

Down in the cellar, there was a large barrel, 10, that had become dirty and moldy from being ignored, and needed to be cleaned out. “Get into the barrel, Maria girl,” she told her the next morning for her task, “and scrub it and clean it thoroughly before we wash it out.”

Maria did as she was bid, and the stepmother went away to boil the water.

Maria did as she was told, and the stepmother went off to boil the water.

Meantime, the prince’s men had taken Maria’s slipper to him, and he, delighted to have any token of his fair one, appointed an officer to go into every house, and proclaim that the maiden whom the slipper might fit should be his bride. The officer went round from house to house, trying the slipper on everybody’s foot. But it fitted no one, for it was under a spell.

In the meantime, the prince's men brought Maria's slipper to him, and he, thrilled to have something from his lovely lady, assigned an officer to go to every house and announce that the maiden whose foot fit the slipper would be his bride. The officer went from house to house, trying the slipper on everyone. But it didn't fit anyone, as it was under a spell.

But the stepmother’s own daughter11 had gone down to the cellar to help Maria, unbeknown to her mother; and it so happened that, just as she was inside the barrel and Maria outside, the king’s officer happened to come by that way. He opened the door,12 and, seeing a damsel standing within, tried on the sandal without waiting to ask leave. As the sandal fitted Maria to perfection, the [36]officer was all impatience to carry her off to the prince, and placed her in the carriage which was waiting outside, and drove off with her before anyone had even observed his entrance.

But the stepmother’s own daughter had gone down to the cellar to help Maria, without her mother knowing; and just as she was inside the barrel and Maria was outside, the king’s officer happened to pass by. He opened the door, and seeing a girl standing inside, he tried on the sandal without asking for permission. Since the sandal fit Maria perfectly, the officer was eager to take her to the prince, so he put her in the carriage waiting outside and drove off with her before anyone even noticed he had come in.

Scarcely had all this passed than the stepmother came back, with her servants, each carrying a can of boiling water. They placed themselves in a ring round the barrel, and each emptied her charge into it. As it was the stepmother’s daughter who was inside at the time, instead of Maria, it was she who got scalded to death in her place.

Scarcely had all this happened when the stepmother returned with her servants, each carrying a can of boiling water. They formed a circle around the barrel and poured their loads into it. Since it was the stepmother’s daughter who was inside at the time instead of Maria, she was the one who got scalded to death in her place.

By-and-by, when the house was quiet, the bad stepmother went to the barrel, intending to take out the body of Maria and hide it. What was her dismay when she found, instead of Maria’s body, that of her own daughter! As soon as her distress and grief subsided sufficiently to enable her to consider what she had to do, the idea suggested itself to conceal the murder by putting the blame of it on some one else. For this purpose she took the body of her daughter, and, dressing it in dry clothes, seated it on the top of the stairs against her husband’s return.13

By and by, when the house was quiet, the wicked stepmother went to the barrel, planning to take out Maria's body and hide it. She was horrified when she discovered, instead of Maria, the body of her own daughter! Once her shock and sorrow faded enough for her to think clearly about what to do, the idea came to her to cover up the murder by blaming someone else. To do this, she took her daughter's body, dressed it in dry clothes, and propped it up at the top of the stairs to wait for her husband's return.13

Presently, home he came with his ass-load of wood, and called to her daughter to come and help him unload it, as usual. But the daughter continued sitting on the top of the stairs, and moved not. Again and again he called, louder and louder, but still she moved not; till at last, irritated beyond all endurance, he hurled one of his logs of wood at her, which brought the badly-balanced corpse rolling and tumbling all the way down the stairs, just as the stepmother had designed.

Currently, he came home with a heavy load of wood and called for his daughter to come help him unload it, as usual. But the daughter stayed seated at the top of the stairs and didn’t move. He called again and again, louder each time, but she still didn’t budge; finally, fed up beyond measure, he threw one of the logs of wood at her, sending her unsteady body rolling and tumbling down the stairs, just as the stepmother had planned.

The husband, however, was far from being deceived by the device. He could see the body presented no appearance of dying from a recent fall.

The husband, however, was far from being tricked by the ruse. He could see that the body showed no signs of having died from a recent fall.

‘Where’s Maria?’ he asked, as soon as he got up into the room.

‘Where’s Maria?’ he asked as soon as he got into the room.

‘Nobody knows; she has disappeared!’ replied the stepmother; nor was he slow to convince himself she was nowhere in the house. [37]

‘Nobody knows; she’s disappeared!’ replied the stepmother; nor was he slow to convince himself she was nowhere in the house. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘This is no place for me to stay in,’ said the husband to himself. ‘One child driven away, and one murdered; who can say what may happen next?’

‘This is no place for me to stick around,’ the husband thought. ‘One child gone, and another killed; who knows what could happen next?’

Next morning, therefore, he called to him the little daughter born to him since his marriage with Maria’s stepmother, and went away with her for good and all. So that bad woman was deprived, as she deserved, of her husband and all her children in one day.

Next morning, he called over the little daughter he had with Maria’s stepmother and left with her for good. That woman was deprived, as she deserved, of her husband and all her children in a single day.

Just as the father and his daughter were starting to go away, Maria drove by in a gilded coach with the prince her husband; so he had the satisfaction, and her stepmother the vexation, of seeing her triumph. [38]

Just as the father and his daughter were about to leave, Maria passed by in a fancy coach with her husband, the prince; so he felt satisfied, while her stepmother was frustrated to witness her success. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

[The introduction of the wonder-working cow in this second version of the story of Cinderella cannot fail to suggest the idea that it may find its prototype in Sabala, the heavenly cow of the Ramayana.14

[The introduction of the amazing cow in this second version of Cinderella definitely suggests that it could be inspired by Sabala, the divine cow from the Ramayana.14

I have another Stepmother story, the place of which is here, but it is too long to give in its entirety. It begins like the last, and the next, and many others, with a widower, the teacher of whose children, a boy and girl, insists on marrying him. Soon after, of course, she turns the children out of doors; the boy is made the slave of a witch, and comes well at last out of many adventures; it is one of the nearest approaches to a heroic story that I have met with in Rome. There are details in it, however, like Filagranata and others, not actually of the Stepmother group. The girl gets taken into a Brigand’s cave, and goes through adventures which befall the youngest of three sisters (without a stepmother) in the Italian-Tirolese tale of ‘Le tre Sorelle,’ and that, again, is precisely like another Roman story I have, in many respects different from the present one, called ‘The Three Windows.’ One of the adventures in the present story is, that the witch, instead of killing the girl, gives her the appearance of death, and she is shut up in a box instead of being regularly buried, and a prince, as he goes by hunting, finds her, and the means of restoring [39]her, and marries her. This is a very common incident in another group, and occurs in the ‘Siddhi Kür’ story which I have given as ‘The Prayer making suddenly Rich,’ in ‘Sagas from the Far East;’ and in the third version of ‘Maria de Legno,’ infra, where also the girl is not even seemingly dead. I cannot forbear subjoining a quaint version of the story of Joseph, which was told me, embodying the same incident, though the story of Joseph has usually been identified with the group in which a younger brother is the hero; by Dr. Dasent, among others, who gives several examples, under the name of ‘Boots.’ In the Roman series this group is represented by ‘Scioccolone.’]

I have another Stepmother story that belongs here, but it’s too lengthy to tell in full. It starts like the last one, and the next, and many others, with a widowed father whose children's teacher, a boy and girl, insists on marrying him. Soon after, she kicks the kids out of the house; the boy ends up as the servant of a witch, and after many adventures, he eventually comes out okay; it’s one of the closest things to a heroic tale I’ve encountered in Rome. However, there are details in it, like Filagranata and others, which aren’t really part of the Stepmother group. The girl gets taken into a brigand’s cave and experiences adventures similar to those of the youngest of three sisters (without a stepmother) in the Italian-Tirolese story of ‘Le tre Sorelle,’ which is also very much like another Roman tale I have titled ‘The Three Windows,’ though that one differs in many respects from this one. A key adventure in this story is that instead of killing the girl, the witch makes her appear dead, and she’s locked in a box instead of being buried properly. A prince, while hunting, discovers her and finds a way to bring her back to life, and then he marries her. This incident is quite common in another group of stories, and it appears in the ‘Siddhi Kür’ tale, which I’ve shared as ‘The Prayer making suddenly Rich’ in ‘Sagas from the Far East,’ and in the third version of ‘Maria de Legno,’ where the girl isn't even really dead. I can’t help but add a quirky version of the story of Joseph that someone told me, which includes the same incident, although the story of Joseph is usually linked to the group where a younger brother is the hero, as noted by Dr. Dasent, among others, who provides several examples under the name ‘Boots.’ In the Roman series, this group is represented by ‘Scioccolone.’

1 ‘Vaccarella,’ ‘dear little cow,’ ‘good little cow.’ The endearment is expressed in the form of the diminutive. ↑

1 ‘Vaccarella,’ ‘sweet little cow,’ ‘nice little cow.’ The affection is shown through the use of the diminutive. ↑

2 ‘Maestra.’ ↑

2 ‘Teacher.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

3 ‘Basta,’ ‘enough,’ ‘to cut a long story short.’ ↑

3 ‘Enough,’ ‘that’s enough,’ ‘to make it short.’ ↑

4 ‘Fatata.’ ↑

4 'Fatata.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

5

5

Butta sopr’ alle corna a me,

Butta above the horns at me,

E vatene far l’erba per me.

E vatene far l’erba per me.

‘Corno’ is one of the words which (as ‘muro,’ ‘novo,’ ‘braccio,’ ‘dito,’ &c.), masculine in the singular, have a feminine plural. ↑

‘Corno’ is one of the words which (as ‘muro,’ ‘novo,’ ‘braccio,’ ‘dito,’ etc.), masculine in the singular, have a feminine plural. ↑

6 ‘Carrèvale,’ or ‘corrèvale’—I could not very well distinguish which, and do not know the word. The narrator explained it as like ‘cànapa’—hemp, only finer. ‘Refe’ is used in the same sense in Tuscany. ↑

6 'Carrèvale' or 'corrèvale'—I couldn't quite tell which, and I'm not familiar with the term. The narrator described it as being similar to 'cànapa'—hemp, but finer. 'Refe' is used in the same way in Tuscany. ↑

7

7

Pallo dorato! Pallo dorato!

Golden ball! Golden ball!

Vestimi d’oro e dammi l’innamorato.

Dress me in gold and give me my lover.

‘Dorato’ is used for ‘golden’ as well as for ‘gilt.’ The change from ‘palla,’ a ball, to ‘pallo’ is a very considerable license, for the sake of making it rime with ‘innamorato;’ though some words admit of being spelt either way, as ‘mattino’ or ‘mattina, ‘botto’ or ‘botta’ (a blow), and others can be used with either gender without alteration, as ‘polvere.’ I have never met with ‘pallo’ elsewhere, though it is one of the words which take a masculine augmentative (‘pallone’). ↑

‘Dorato’ is used for ‘golden’ as well as for ‘gilt.’ The change from ‘palla,’ a ball, to ‘pallo’ is quite a stretch, made just to rhyme with ‘innamorato;’ though some words can be spelled either way, like ‘mattino’ or ‘mattina,’ ‘botto’ or ‘botta’ (a blow), and others can be used in either gender without changing, like ‘polvere.’ I’ve never seen ‘pallo’ used anywhere else, even though it’s one of the words that takes a masculine form (‘pallone’). ↑

8 ‘Novena,’ a short service, with or without a sermon, said for nine days before some great festival, in preparation for it. ↑

8 ‘Novena,’ a brief service, with or without a sermon, held for nine days leading up to a major festival in preparation for it. ↑

9 ‘Pianella,’ a sandal, or slipper without a heel. ‘In those days they used to wear such things instead of shoes,’ commented the old lady as she told the tale. ↑

9 ‘Pianella,’ a sandal or slipper without a heel. ‘Back then, they used to wear those instead of shoes,’ the old lady remarked as she shared the story. ↑

10 ‘Botte,’ a very large wine-barrel of a certain measure. ↑

10 ‘Botte,’ a large wine barrel of a specific size. ↑

11 Here called ‘buona figlia,’ ‘good daughter.’ There did not seem any reason for this designation. Possibly the narrator had forgotten some incident of the story, introducing it. ↑

11 Here called ‘good daughter.’ There didn’t seem to be any reason for this title. Maybe the narrator had forgotten some part of the story that introduced it. ↑

12 That the cellar should be, as thus appears, on the ground-floor, is very characteristic of Rome, though there are, of course, plenty of underground cellars too; but the one is properly ‘cantino’ and ‘canova,’ and the other ‘grottino.’ The distinction is, however, not very rigidly observed in common parlance. To have an underground cellar is so far a specialité, that it has been taken to be a sufficiently distinctive attribute to supply the sign or title to those inns which possess it. Rufini gives examples of above a dozen thus called ‘Del Grottino.’ ↑

12 It's quite typical of Rome for the cellar to be located on the ground floor, though there are certainly many underground cellars as well; one is usually referred to as ‘cantino’ and ‘canova,’ while the other is called ‘grottino.’ However, this distinction isn't strictly followed in everyday language. Having an underground cellar is somewhat of a specialité, and it's considered a notable feature, so much so that it serves as a sign or title for those inns that have one. Rufini provides examples of over a dozen called ‘Del Grottino.’ ↑

13 The ground-floor being used as a cellar, the family lives upstairs. This is a very common arrangement. ↑

13 The ground floor is used as a cellar, and the family lives upstairs. This is a very common setup. ↑

14 The reader who has not access to a better rendering of this beautiful legend will find one I have given from Bopp, in ‘Sagas from the Far East,’ pp. 402–3; but Mr. Ralston gives us a Russian version, in which a doll or puppet is the agent instead of the cow (pp. 150–9). It is true, on the other hand, that he has (p. 115) another rather different story, in which a cow also gives good gifts; and mentions others at p. 260. In a story of the Italian Tirol, ‘Le due Sorelle,’ which I shall have occasion to notice later, a cow has also a supernatural part to play, somewhat like that of Vaccarella; only there she acts at the bidding of a fairy, not of her own motion. ↑

14 The reader who doesn't have access to a better version of this beautiful legend can find one I adapted from Bopp in ‘Sagas from the Far East,’ pp. 402–3; however, Mr. Ralston provides a Russian version where a doll or puppet serves as the main character instead of the cow (pp. 150–9). On the other hand, he also has (p. 115) another quite different story in which a cow also brings good gifts and mentions others on p. 260. In a tale from the Italian Tirol, ‘Le due Sorelle,’ which I’ll refer to later, a cow also plays a supernatural role, similar to that of Vaccarella; but in that case, she acts on the instructions of a fairy, not on her own initiative. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

GIUSEPPE L’EBREO.

‘Do you know the story of Giuseppe l’Ebreo?’

'Do you know the story of Giuseppe l'Ebreo?'

‘Not by that name. Tell it me, and I’ll tell you if I’ve heard it before.’

‘Not by that name. Tell me what it is, and I'll let you know if I've heard it before.’

‘There was once a moglie e marito who had seven sons.’

‘There was once a wife and husband who had seven sons.’

‘Oh, do you mean the Machabees?’

‘Oh, are you talking about the Maccabees?’

‘No. I don’t think they were called Machabees—I don’t know. But the youngest of the seven was called Joseph, and he was his father’s Benjamin, and that made the others jealous of him. They used to go out in the Campagna together to feed the flocks, for in those days all were shepherds; and when the others had Joseph out there all alone they said, “Let us kill him;” and they were going to kill him; but one said, “No, we must not kill him: we will put him down a well;” and so they did.

‘No. I don’t think they were called Machabees—I’m not sure. But the youngest of the seven was named Joseph, and he was like his father’s favorite, which made the others jealous of him. They would go out together in the countryside to take care of the flocks, because back then everyone was a shepherd; and when they had Joseph out there all by himself, they said, “Let’s kill him;” and they were planning to kill him; but one of them said, “No, we shouldn’t kill him: let’s throw him into a well;” and that’s what they did.

‘The next day it happened that a great king went by hunting, and as his dogs passed the well where Joseph was they scented human blood and made a great barking, and the king said, “See what the dogs have found.” So they took the stone from the mouth of the well and let a cord down, and behold a beautiful boy came up—for Joseph was a beautiful boy—and he pleased the king, and he took him home and kept him as a precious jewel, he was so fair. So handsome was he, that the Queen fell in love with him; and when he wouldn’t listen to her she accused him of having insulted her, and had him put into prison.

The next day, a powerful king went out hunting, and as his dogs approached the well where Joseph was, they caught the scent of human blood and started barking loudly. The king said, “Look at what the dogs have found.” They removed the stone from the well and lowered a rope, and out came a stunning boy—Joseph was very handsome—and he caught the king's interest. The king took him home and kept him like a precious gem because he was so beautiful. He was so attractive that the Queen fell in love with him; when he rejected her advances, she claimed he had insulted her and had him thrown into prison.

‘After that the King had a strange dream: he saw three lean cows and three fat cows; and he saw the three lean cows eat up the three fat cows; and he sent for all the theologians in the country, and none of them could tell what the dream meant; but Joseph said, “I can tell what the dream means.”... The rest as in the Bible.’

‘After that, the King had a weird dream: he saw three skinny cows and three fat cows; and he watched the three skinny cows eat the three fat cows; and he called for all the theologians in the country, and none of them could explain what the dream meant; but Joseph said, “I can explain the dream.”... The rest is as in the Bible.’

[Dr. Dasent gives one Norse story of a stepmother, with a stepson and daughter, which begins like the one of which I have given an abstract, but runs off into quite different incidents.] [40]

[Dr. Dasent shares a Norse tale about a stepmother, her stepson, and stepdaughter, which starts similarly to the one I summarized, but takes a turn into completely different events.] [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE KING WHO GOES OUT TO DINNER.1

They say there was a well-to-do peasant whose wife died leaving him two children—a boy and a girl. Both were beautiful children, but the girl was of the most inconceivable beauty.

They say there was a wealthy farmer whose wife passed away, leaving him with two children—a son and a daughter. Both were beautiful kids, but the girl was stunningly beautiful.

As both were still young, and the father did not know how to supply a mother’s place to them, he sent them to a woman, who was to teach them and train them, and do all that a mother would have done for them. So to her they went every day. The woman, however, was bent on marrying their father, and used to send a message every day to ask why he did not marry her. The father sent in answer that he did not want to marry; but the woman continued to repeat the same message so frequently that, wearied by her importunity, he sent an answer to the effect that when a pair of strong woollen stockings, which he also gave the children to take to her, were rotted away he would marry her, and not before. The woman took the pair of stockings and hung them up in a loft and damped them with water twice a day till they were soon quite rotted; then she showed them to the children, and told them to tell their father what they had seen. When the children went home they said, ‘Papa! we saw your pair of stockings to-day; they are all rotted away.’ But the father said, ‘Nonsense! Those thick stockings could not have rotted in this time; there must be some unfair play.’

As both kids were still young, and their dad didn’t know how to fill the role of a mother, he sent them to a woman who was supposed to teach and care for them, doing everything a mother would do. So, they went to her every day. However, the woman was determined to marry their dad and sent him a message every day asking why he hadn't married her. The dad replied that he didn't want to get married, but the woman kept sending the same message so often that, tired of her persistence, he eventually responded that he would marry her only when a pair of strong woolen stockings he gave the kids to take to her had rotted away, and not before. The woman took the stockings, hung them up in an attic, and dampened them with water twice a day until they quickly rotted. Then, she showed them to the kids and told them to tell their dad what they had seen. When the kids got home, they said, "Dad! We saw your pair of stockings today; they’re all rotted away." But the father replied, "Nonsense! Those thick stockings couldn’t have rotted in that time; there must be some trickery going on."

The next morning he gave them a large pitcher of water, and told them to take it to their teacher, saying that when all the water had dried up he would marry her, and not before. The teacher took the children up every day to see how rapidly the water diminished in the jug; but the fact was she used to go first and pour out a little every day.2 At last she showed them the pitcher empty, and bid them [41]tell their father that they had seen it so. ‘Impossible!’ said their father; but when they assured him they had seen the water in it gradually diminish day by day, he saw there was no way of disputing the fact, and that he was bound by the condition he himself had fixed.

The next morning, he gave them a big pitcher of water and told them to take it to their teacher, saying that when the water had completely dried up, he would marry her, but not before. Every day, the teacher took the children to see how quickly the water was disappearing from the jug; the truth was, she would go first and pour out a little bit each day. Finally, she showed them the pitcher empty and told them to tell their father that they had seen it that way. “No way!” said their father, but when they insisted that they had watched the water decrease day by day, he realized there was no way to argue against it, and that he had to stick to the condition he had set.

Accordingly he married the teacher. No sooner, however, was she in possession of the house than she told the father she would not have the children about the place; they were not her children, and she could not bear the sight of them. The father expostulated, saying he had no place to send them to, but the stepmother continued so persistently in her representations that, for the sake of peace, he ceased to oppose her, and she took upon herself the task of disposing of them.

Accordingly, he married the teacher. However, as soon as she moved into the house, she told the father that she didn't want the kids around; they weren't her kids, and she couldn't stand to see them. The father argued, saying he had no place to send them, but the stepmother kept insisting so persistently that, for the sake of peace, he stopped opposing her, and she took on the responsibility of getting rid of them.

One day, therefore, she made them a large cake,3 and putting it in a basket with a bottle of wine, she took them for a walk outside the gates. When they had gone a long, long way, she proposed that they should sit down and lunch off their cake and wine. The children were nothing loth; but, while they were eating, the stepmother slipped away unperceived, and left them alone, thinking that they would be lost. But the fact was the boy had overheard their father and mother talking about getting rid of them, and he had provided himself with a paper parcel4 of ashes, and had strewn them all along the road they had come, unperceived by his stepmother, and so now by this track they found their way home again.

One day, she baked them a big cake, 3 and put it in a basket along with a bottle of wine. She then led them for a walk outside the gates. After they had walked for a long time, she suggested they sit down and have lunch with the cake and wine. The kids were more than happy to agree; however, while they were eating, the stepmother quietly slipped away, thinking they would get lost. But the truth was, the boy had overheard their parents discussing how to get rid of them. He had prepared a paper parcel 4 of ashes and had scattered them along the path they had taken, unnoticed by his stepmother, so now they were able to find their way home again.

The stepmother was furious at seeing them come back, but she said nothing in order not to rouse their suspicions. A few days after, however, she made another cake and proposed to take them another walk. The children accompanied her willingly; but the little boy provided himself with a parcel of millet, and strewed the grain on the ground as they walked along. They were in no haste, therefore, to finish their refection. But, alas! when they came to trace the track by which they were to return, [42]there was no means of finding it, for the birds had come meanwhile and eaten up all the grain. The little girl was appalled when she saw they were lost, and sat down to cry; but the little boy said, ‘Never mind; our stepmother was very cross and unkind to us; perhaps we shall meet with some one who will behave better to us. Come, let us look for shelter before night comes on.’ The little girl took courage at her brother’s words, and, joining hands, they walked on together.

The stepmother was really angry to see them come back, but she said nothing to avoid raising their suspicions. A few days later, though, she made another cake and suggested taking them for another walk. The kids happily went along with her; however, the little boy took some millet with him and scattered the seeds on the ground as they walked. They weren’t in a rush to finish their snack. But, unfortunately, when it was time to retrace their steps, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]they couldn’t find the way back because the birds had come and eaten all the seeds. The little girl was shocked when she realized they were lost and sat down to cry, but the little boy said, "Don’t worry; our stepmother was really mean and unkind to us; maybe we’ll meet someone who treats us better. Come on, let’s find somewhere to stay before night falls." The little girl felt braver after her brother’s words and, holding hands, they continued on together.

Before night they came to a little cottage, the only one in sight; so they knocked at the door. ‘Who’s there?’ said a voice within, and when they answered ‘Friends,’ an old man opened the door. ‘Will you please take us in and give us shelter for the night, for our stepmother has turned us out of our home?’ said the little boy. ‘Come in, and welcome,’ answered the old man, ‘and you shall be my children.’ So they went in and lived with him as his children.

Before nightfall, they arrived at a small cottage, the only one they could see, and knocked on the door. “Who’s there?” a voice called from inside. When they replied, “Friends,” an old man opened the door. “Please let us in and give us shelter for the night; our stepmother has kicked us out of our home,” said the little boy. “Come in, and welcome,” the old man answered, “and you can be my children.” So, they went inside and lived with him as his children.

When they had been living there some time, it happened that one day when the old man and her brother were both out, the king came by hunting, and he came to the hut and asked for some water to drink. The extraordinary beauty of the maiden astonished the king, and he asked her whence she was, and so learnt all her story. When he went home he told his mother, saying, ‘When I was out to-day I saw the most beautiful maiden that ever was created. You must come and see her.’ The queen-mother did not like going to the poor hut, but the prince urged her so much that at last she consented to accompany him. The king drove out beforehand to the cottage and gave notice that he would like to dine there, and, giving the maiden plenty of money, told her to prepare the best dinner that ever she could for him and the queen-mother. The maiden tidied up the cottage so neatly, and prepared the dinner so well, and did the honours of it so gracefully, that the queen-mother was won to admire her as much as [43]her son had been, and when the king told her of his intention to make the girl his wife she was well pleased. So Albina (such was her name) was married to the king, and her brother was made viceroy.

When they had been living there for a while, one day the old man and her brother were both out when the king came by while hunting. He stopped at the hut and asked for some water to drink. The maiden’s stunning beauty amazed the king, and he asked her where she was from, learning her whole story. When he got home, he told his mother, “Today, I saw the most beautiful girl who ever existed. You have to come and see her.” The queen mother wasn’t keen on visiting the poor hut, but the prince persuaded her so much that she finally agreed to go with him. The king went ahead to the cottage and announced that he would like to have dinner there. He gave the maiden a lot of money and told her to prepare the best dinner she could for him and the queen mother. The maiden cleaned up the cottage beautifully, prepared the dinner perfectly, and hosted it so gracefully that the queen mother ended up admiring her as much as her son had. When the king mentioned he wanted to marry the girl, she was very pleased. So, Albina (that was her name) married the king, and her brother was made viceroy.

In the meantime, the stepmother had begun to wonder what had become of the children. But she was a witch, and had a divining rod;5 this rod she struck, and asked it where the children were. The answer came, ‘The girl is married to the king, and the lad is made viceroy.’

In the meantime, the stepmother started to wonder what had happened to the children. But she was a witch, and had a divining rod;5 she struck this rod and asked it where the children were. The answer came, ‘The girl is married to the king, and the boy is made viceroy.’

When she heard this she went to her husband and said, ‘Do you know a sort of remorse has taken me that we let those poor children go we know not whither. I am resolved to put on a pilgrim’s dress and go and seek them that I may bring them home to us again.’ The father was very glad to hear her speak thus, and gave his consent to her taking the journey. The next day, therefore, she put on a pilgrim’s dress and went forth.

When she heard this, she went to her husband and said, ‘You know, I’ve been feeling really guilty about letting those poor children go off somewhere we don’t know. I’ve decided to wear a pilgrim’s outfit and go find them so I can bring them back home to us.’ The father was very happy to hear her say this and agreed to her trip. So, the next day, she put on her pilgrim’s outfit and set out.

On, on, on she went till she came to the city where Albina was married to the king. Here she took up her stand opposite the palace windows, and with her divining rod she called up a golden hen with golden chickens,6 and made them strut about under the palace window. When Queen Albina looked out and saw the wonderful brood, she sent down at once to call the pilgrim-woman to her and offered to buy them of her. ‘My hen and chickens I neither sell nor pledge,’ answered the pretended pilgrim; ‘I only part with them at one price.’

On she went until she reached the city where Albina was married to the king. Here, she stood in front of the palace windows and, using her divining rod, summoned a golden hen with golden chicks, 6, and made them strut around beneath the palace window. When Queen Albina saw the amazing sight, she immediately sent someone to call the pilgrim woman to her and offered to buy them. “I won’t sell or trade my hen and chicks,” replied the fake pilgrim; “I only part with them for one price.”

‘And what is the price, good pilgrim, say?’ answered the queen.

‘And what’s the price, good pilgrim, tell me?’ answered the queen.

‘My price is that the queen herself take me down to the palace garden and show me the whale which I know there is in the fish-pond.’7

‘My price is that the queen herself take me down to the palace garden and show me the whale that I know is in the fish-pond.’7

‘That is a condition easily accepted,’ answered Albina. ‘I will take you there at once, good woman.’

‘That’s a condition I can easily agree to,’ answered Albina. ‘I’ll take you there right now, good woman.’

The queen and the pretended pilgrim then went down [44]together to the pond. The pretended pilgrim no sooner came in sight of the whale than she touched the water with her rod and bade the whale swallow the queen. The whale obeyed the stroke of the wand imparted through the water, and the stepmother went up and threw herself on the queen’s bed. When she had well wrapped herself in the coverlets so as to be hidden, she called the maids to her and bid them tell the king that the queen was sick. The king immediately came in all haste to assure himself of the state of the queen. ‘I am ill indeed, very ill!’ cried the pretended queen, groaning between whiles; ‘and there is no hope for me, for there is only one remedy for my malady, and that I cannot take.’

The queen and the fake pilgrim then went down [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]to the pond together. As soon as the fake pilgrim saw the whale, she touched the water with her rod and commanded the whale to swallow the queen. The whale responded to the magic of the wand through the water, and the stepmother climbed up and threw herself onto the queen’s bed. After wrapping herself in the blankets to hide, she called the maids and told them to inform the king that the queen was sick. The king rushed in immediately to check on the queen’s condition. ‘I’m indeed very ill!’ cried the fake queen, groaning between breaths; ‘and there's no hope for me, because there’s only one cure for my illness, and I can’t take it.’

‘Tell me the one remedy at least,’ said the king.

‘Just tell me one solution,’ said the king.

‘The one only remedy for me is the blood of the viceroy, and that I could not take.’

‘The only remedy for me is the blood of the viceroy, and I couldn't do that.’

‘It is a dreadful remedy indeed,’ said the king; ‘but if it is the only thing to save your life, I must make you take it.’

‘It’s a terrible solution, for sure,’ said the king; ‘but if it’s the only way to save your life, I have to make you take it.’

‘Oh, no! I could not take it!’ exclaimed the pretended queen, for the sake of appearing genuine.

‘Oh, no! I just can’t handle it!’ exclaimed the fake queen, trying to seem authentic.

But the king, bent on saving her life at any price, sent and had the viceroy taken possession of and secured, ready to be slain,8 in one of the lower chambers of the palace. The windows of this chamber looked out upon the fish-pond.

But the king, determined to save her life at any cost, had the viceroy captured and secured, ready to be killed, 8 in one of the lower rooms of the palace. The windows of this room overlooked the fish pond.

The viceroy looked out of the window on to the fishpond, and immediately there came a voice up to him, speaking out of the whale, and saying, ‘Save me, my brother, for here am I imprisoned in the whale, and behold two children are born to me.’

The viceroy looked out the window at the fishpond, and suddenly a voice reached him, coming from the whale, and saying, ‘Save me, my brother, for I am trapped in the whale, and look, two children have been born to me.’

But her brother could only answer, ‘I can give help to none, for I also am in peril of death, being bound and shut up ready to be slain!’

But her brother could only reply, ‘I can’t help anyone, because I’m also facing death, tied up and locked away, waiting to be killed!’

Then a voice of lamentation came up from within the [45]whale saying, ‘Woe is me that my brother is to be slain, and I and my children are shut up in this horrible place! Woe is me!’

Then a voice of sorrow rose from inside the [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]whale saying, ‘How tragic that my brother is about to be killed, and I and my kids are trapped in this terrible place! How tragic!’

Presently, the gardener hearing these lamentations, went to the king, saying, ‘O, king! come down thyself and hear the voice of one that waileth, and the voice cometh as from within the whale.’

Presently, the gardener, hearing these cries, went to the king, saying, ‘Oh, king! Come down yourself and listen to the voice of someone mourning, and the voice comes as if from within the whale.’

The king went down, and at once recognised the voice of the queen; then he commanded that the whale should be ripped open; no sooner was this done than the queen and her two children were brought to light. The king embraced them all, and said, ‘Who then is she that is in the queen’s bed?’ and he commanded that she should be brought before him. When the queen had seen her she said, ‘This is my stepmother;’ and when the pilgrim’s weeds, which she had taken off, were also found, and it was shown that it was she who had worked all this mischief, the king pronounced that she was a witch, and she was put to death, and the viceroy was set at liberty.

The king went down and immediately recognized the queen's voice; he then ordered that the whale be cut open. As soon as that was done, the queen and her two children were brought out. The king hugged them all and said, "Who is that in the queen’s bed?" He ordered for her to be brought before him. When the queen saw her, she said, "This is my stepmother." When the pilgrim's clothes she had taken off were also found, and it was revealed that she was the one who caused all this trouble, the king declared that she was a witch, and she was executed, while the viceroy was set free.

[I now come to three stories more strictly of the Cinderella type than the two last, but no stepmother appears in them.] [46]

[I now come to three stories that are more clearly in the Cinderella style than the last two, but there is no stepmother in them.] [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Il Rè che va a Pranzo.’ ↑

1 ‘The King Goes for Lunch.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 I am inclined to think there was some forgetfulness here on the part of the narrator; such artifices always fulfil the conditions they evade in some underhand way—they never set them utterly at defiance, as in the instance in the text. Such conditions also always go in threes; the third was probably forgotten in this instance. ↑

2 I think the narrator might have forgotten something here; these tricks always manage to meet the conditions they try to avoid in a sneaky way—they never completely ignore them, as seen in this text. These conditions usually come in threes; it’s likely the third one was overlooked in this case. ↑

3 ‘Pizza,’ a cake made of Indian corn. ↑

3 ‘Pizza,’ a dish made with corn. ↑

4 ‘Cartoccio,’ a conical paper parcel. ↑

4 ‘Cartoccio,’ a cone-shaped paper pouch. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

5 ‘Bacchettino da comando.’ ↑

5 ‘Control baton.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

6 ‘Biocca cogli polsini d’oro,’ a hen and chickens all of gold; ‘biocca’ is a word used by peasants for ‘gallina,’ and ‘polsini’ for ‘pollastri.’ ↑

6 ‘Biocca with golden cuffs,’ a hen and chicks all made of gold; ‘biocca’ is a term used by farmers for ‘hen,’ and ‘polsini’ for ‘chicks.’ ↑

7 ‘Pescheria,’ ordinarily ‘fish-market,’ but sometimes, as in this place, a tank or piece of water for preserving fish for table. That so large a fish as a whale should be kept in one, is only one of the exaggerations proper to the realm of fable. ↑

7 ‘Pescheria,’ usually meaning ‘fish market,’ but sometimes, like here, it refers to a tank or a body of water used to keep fish for meals. The idea of keeping a massive fish like a whale in one is just one of the exaggerations typical of fables. ↑

8 The very incident which occurs in the stepmother story of ‘How the Serpent-gods were Propitiated,’ in ‘Sagas from the Far East.’ ↑

8 The same event that happens in the stepmother tale of ‘How the Serpent-gods were Propitiated,’ in ‘Sagas from the Far East.’ ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE POT OF MARJORAM.1

They say there was once a father who was a rich, very rich, merchant, and the daughters had been used all their lives to have every thing that money could buy them, so that one day when the father was going to a distant mart where he expected to find the choicest wares, and asked them what he should bring home, they scarcely knew what to ask. But when he told them he expected to find shawls of such brilliant hues as they had never seen, with gold threads interwoven, the eldest instantly begged him to bring her one of these; and when he said he expected to find coverlets of bird plumage vieing with the rainbow in brilliancy, the second entreated him to bring her one of these.

They say there was once a father who was a very wealthy merchant, and his daughters had grown up used to having everything money could buy. So, one day when the father was heading to a faraway market where he hoped to find the best goods, he asked them what he should bring back, and they barely knew what to request. But when he mentioned that he expected to find shawls in such vibrant colors that they had never seen before, with gold threads woven in, the eldest immediately asked him to get her one of those. And when he said he hoped to find coverlets made of bird feathers that rivaled the rainbow in brightness, the second daughter begged him to bring her one as well.

The third daughter, however, who was distinguished by stay-at-home habits, and by her distaste for vanity of every kind, would not have any of these gay ornaments, though he not only offered her shawls and coverlets such as her sisters revelled in the idea of possessing, but precious jewelry, sparkling rubies, and rarest pearls. She would have none of these, but asked him only to bring her a pot of marjoram, which she wanted for household uses as none was to be got in the country where they were living.

The third daughter, however, who was known for being a homebody and for her dislike of any kind of vanity, refused all these fancy ornaments. He not only offered her shawls and coverlets that her sisters dreamed of having but also precious jewelry, sparkling rubies, and rare pearls. She wanted none of it; instead, she simply asked him to bring her a pot of marjoram, which she needed for household use since there was none available in the country where they were living.

The father soon after set out on his travels, and having reached his destination did not fail, while laying in his rare and precious stock, to select the choicest specimens to bestow on his two eldest daughters.

The father soon set off on his travels, and after arriving at his destination, he made sure to choose the best and most valuable items for his two oldest daughters.

But the homely pot of marjoram quite went out of his head, and he returned homewards without having so much as thought of it.

But the ordinary pot of marjoram completely slipped his mind, and he headed home without even thinking about it.

He was nearly home when he was accosted on the way by a strange-looking man one evening, who asked him if he would not buy of him a pot of marjoram. [47]

He was almost home when a strange-looking man approached him one evening and asked if he would buy a pot of marjoram from him. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘A pot of marjoram!’ The words brought back his youngest daughter’s request whom he would not have disappointed for all the world.

‘A pot of marjoram!’ The words reminded him of his youngest daughter’s request, which he would never have wanted to disappoint for anything.

‘A pot of marjoram, say you? Yes, it’s just what I want. Give it here, and there’s something extra because it is just what I want;’ and throwing him money to three or four times the ordinary value of the article, he called to an attendant to stow the pot on to the pack-saddle of one of the mules.

‘A pot of marjoram, you say? Yes, that’s exactly what I want. Hand it over, and here’s some extra because it’s exactly what I want;’ and tossing him money three or four times the usual price, he called to a helper to load the pot onto the pack-saddle of one of the mules.

But the stranger held back the pot and laughed in his face.

But the stranger pulled the pot away and laughed at him.

‘I had thought you were a trader,’ he said, ‘and knew enough of the rules of trade to let a man fix his own price on his own wares.’

‘I thought you were a trader,’ he said, ‘and knew enough about how trade works to let a person set their own price for their own goods.’

The merchant laughed in his turn at what seemed to him an insolent comparison.

The merchant laughed back at what he thought was an arrogant comparison.

‘When a trader goes thousands of miles, through a thousand perils to bring home precious wares from afar which those at home scarcely know the use of, true, then, he alone can fix the price. But a pot of marjoram, every one knows the price of that.’

‘When a trader travels thousands of miles and faces numerous dangers to bring back valuable goods from distant places that people at home barely understand, he alone can set the price. But everyone knows the price of a pot of marjoram.’

‘Perhaps not,’ replied the stranger, binding his cloak about him with the pot tightly held under his arm. ‘At all events it is clear you don’t;’ and he took a step forward as if he considered the negotiation at an end.

‘Maybe not,’ replied the stranger, tightening his cloak around him with the pot securely tucked under his arm. ‘In any case, it’s obvious you don’t;’ and he took a step forward, as if he thought the discussion was over.

The merchant was vexed; he would not on any account miss taking back a pot of marjoram, and he knew he was now so near home that no other chance would there be of procuring one. Swallowing down his annoyance as well as he could, therefore, he led his horse nearer to the strange man and said,—

The merchant was frustrated; he absolutely could not miss the opportunity to bring back a pot of marjoram, and he realized he was close enough to home that he wouldn't get another chance. Trying to push his annoyance aside as best as he could, he rode his horse closer to the strange man and said,—

‘You make me quite curious to hear your price named, friend, as till this moment I had not thought there could be two ideas on the subject.’

‘You’ve made me really curious to know your price, friend, because until now I didn’t think there could be two opinions on this matter.’

‘My price is three hundred thousand scudi,’ replied the strange man, who was really a magician; ‘and if you [48]knew its powers you would know, too, it is cheap at that.’

‘My price is three hundred thousand scudi,’ replied the strange man, who was really a magician; ‘and if you [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]knew its powers you would know, too, it is cheap at that.’

And again he made as if he would have gone on his way, indifferent whether the bargain were concluded or not.

And once more he pretended he was going to continue on his way, unconcerned about whether the deal was finalized or not.

The merchant was quite puzzled how to act. The pot of marjoram he must have, and his knowledge of the art of bargaining convinced him that the man’s manner meant he would not rebate an iota of his price. Whatever awkwardness he felt in suddenly giving three hundred thousand scudi for an article he had just appraised at a paul it was even more apparent to him that any attempt at haggling would only have added to the absurdity of the situation by its futility. Therefore, assuming a magnificent air, as if the vast price were after all no matter to him, he called to his steward to count out the sum demanded and rode on.

The merchant was really unsure about what to do. He definitely needed the pot of marjoram, and his experience in negotiating made him realize that the man wouldn't budge on his price. Even though he felt awkward about suddenly paying three hundred thousand scudi for something he had just evaluated at a paul, he understood that trying to bargain would only make the situation more ridiculous because it would be pointless. So, putting on a confident front, as if the huge cost didn’t bother him at all, he called his steward to count out the requested amount and rode off.

Arrived at home, his showy presents were received with raptures by his two eldest daughters, while the youngest received her modest-seeming share of his generosity with an expression of surprise and admiration, which gave the good merchant a secret satisfaction in imagining that she was not altogether ignorant of its immense value.

Arriving home, his flashy gifts were met with excitement by his two oldest daughters, while the youngest accepted her seemingly modest share of his generosity with a look of surprise and admiration, which gave the good merchant a quiet satisfaction in thinking that she understood its true worth.

As days went by, however, everything fell back into the usual routine. The elder sisters continued the same round of gaiety in which they had ever been immersed, the younger remained as of old, quietly absorbed in her household duties; but if she had any pastime it was that of diligently cultivating her pot of marjoram. By degrees, however, through the steward’s gossip with the servants, it came round to the knowledge of the sisters that, though their younger sister had seemed to frame so humble a request, its satisfaction had cost their father’s treasury a fabulous sum. The discovery excited their utmost indignation, and their jealousy being roused, they determined to inflict a condign and appropriate punishment for what they [49]deemed her presumption, by destroying the illstarred pot of marjoram.

As the days went on, everything settled back into the usual routine. The older sisters kept up their constant fun and games, while the younger sister remained as she always had, quietly focused on her household tasks. If she had any hobby, it was taking care of her pot of marjoram. Gradually, though, thanks to the steward chatting with the staff, the sisters learned that, although their younger sister had made such a humble request, fulfilling it had cost their father's treasury a ridiculous amount. This revelation stirred up their anger, and fueled by jealousy, they decided to teach her a harsh lesson for what they saw as her arrogance by destroying the unfortunate pot of marjoram.

To get at it, however, was no easy matter, as its guardian seldom left the house, and was always watching over it with jealous care. At last they resolved, by way of pretext for securing her absence, to represent to their father that it was not good for a young girl to remain so shut up; that whether she had a taste for it or not, she ought to see the world; and urged their arguments so efficaciously that he quite admitted their cogency, and one evening, calling his youngest daughter to him, imperatively required that she should accompany him to an evening engagement.

Getting to it, however, wasn’t easy, as its guardian rarely left the house and was always keeping a close eye on it. Finally, they decided to create an excuse to ensure her absence by telling their father that it wasn’t good for a young girl to be cooped up like that; whether she liked it or not, she needed to experience the world. They made their case so persuasively that he completely agreed, and one evening, calling his youngest daughter to him, he firmly insisted that she join him for an evening event.

The poor child dared not disobey her father, but parted from her pot of marjoram with a heavy heart, as if some foreboding of evil possessed her. No sooner had she left the house than the sisters went up into her room, and taking the pot of marjoram, flung it out of the window, so that it all lay broken and shattered on the highroad, where it was soon trampled under foot and every vestige of it dispersed.

The poor girl didn't dare to disobey her father, but she left her pot of marjoram with a heavy heart, feeling as if something bad was about to happen. As soon as she left the house, her sisters went into her room, grabbed the pot of marjoram, and threw it out of the window, shattering it on the road, where it was quickly trampled and completely scattered.

When she came in and saw what was done her grief was unbounded, and no sooner was the house sunk in slumber than, determining to live no longer under the same roof with those who had treated her so unfeelingly, she set out to wander forth absorbed in sorrow, and not caring whither she went.

When she walked in and saw what had happened, her sadness was overwhelming, and as soon as the house fell into sleep, deciding she could no longer live with those who had treated her so coldly, she left to wander aimlessly, consumed by her sorrow and indifferent to where she was going.

On, on, on she went, taking no heed of the way, all through the night, and when the morning dawned she found herself in the midst of a vast plain, at a place where many roads met. As she hesitated for a moment which she should take, there suddenly appeared before her a fairy,2 though the last time she looked up she had not seen a speck anywhere between herself and the horizon.

On and on she went, not paying attention to the path, all through the night, and when morning came, she found herself in the middle of a huge plain where many roads intersected. As she paused for a moment to decide which way to go, a fairy suddenly appeared in front of her, even though the last time she looked up, there hadn't been a single thing in sight between her and the horizon.

‘Where are you going so early, my pretty maiden, and [50]why weep you?’ said the fairy, in a soothing voice that seemed made to charm an answer out of the most reluctant.

‘Where are you heading so early, my lovely girl, and [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] why are you crying?’ said the fairy, in a gentle voice that seemed designed to coax a reply from even the most unwilling.

Nevertheless, it was no easy question to answer, for the maiden had no sort of idea whither she was going; therefore she took the second question first and poured out the whole tale of her sisters’ harshness and her late terrible disappointment.

Nevertheless, it wasn't an easy question to answer, because the girl had no idea where she was going; so she tackled the second question first and shared the whole story of her sisters' cruelty and her recent terrible disappointment.

‘That is not so very bad after all,’ replied the fairy, when she had finished her tale. ‘I see you have been trying to be a sensible girl, but you must be brave as well as sensible. Men say of us women, “Women always look at the dark side of things;”3 there is always a bright side which you must try to look out for, even when, as in this instance, you couldn’t possibly see it; for all the evil that befalls us does not work evil in the end.4 Now it happens that there is a particularly bright side to this case of yours, and the evil that was done you will bring you no ultimate harm. But you must exercise fortitude and stedfastness in what you will have to do. For this I will give you a man’s clothing, as it would not be seemly for a young girl like you to be going about the world alone, and it will save you from many dangers.’

‘That’s not so bad after all,’ replied the fairy when she finished her story. ‘I can see you’ve been trying to be a sensible girl, but you also need to be brave. People say about us women, “Women always look at the dark side of things;”3 but there’s always a bright side that you should try to focus on, even when, like in this situation, it seems impossible to see it; because not all the bad things that happen to us lead to bad outcomes in the end.4 Now, in your case, there’s actually a particularly bright side, and the harm done to you will ultimately bring no lasting damage. But you have to be strong and steady in what you need to do. For this, I’ll give you men’s clothing since it wouldn’t be proper for a young girl like you to travel alone, and it will protect you from a lot of dangers.’

So saying, though she had no bundle of any sort about her, she produced a complete suit of male attire, travelling cloak and all, and in the girdle were bound weapons, and many articles of which the maiden did not even know the use or the name, but the fairy assured her she would want them all by and by. Then, having pointed out which was the road she should take, she again bid her be of good heart, and disappeared almost before the maiden had time to utter her heartfelt thanks.

So saying, even though she didn’t have any kind of bag with her, she pulled out a full set of men’s clothing, including a traveling cloak, and there were weapons and several items that the girl didn’t even recognize or know the purpose of, but the fairy promised her that she would need them later. Then, after showing her which road to take, she encouraged her to stay strong and vanished almost before the girl had a chance to express her sincere gratitude.

The fairy had no sooner vanished than the whole face of the country wore a different aspect; instead of being surrounded by a vast plain, mighty mountains rose on the right hand and on the left, while before her, straight [51]along her path, was a dense forest. The maiden’s heart misgave her at the sight, but she remembered the fairy’s advice and walked steadily along. Notwithstanding her conversation had not seemed to last many minutes too, the sun was already high in the heavens, and its rays beat so fiercely upon her that she was glad even of the gloomy forest’s shade. Arrived at the first trees she was pleased to hear the trickling of a little brook over the stones, and to find that the good fairy had not failed to give her a supply of provisions of which she now gladly availed herself.

The fairy had barely disappeared when the entire landscape transformed; instead of being surrounded by a vast plain, impressive mountains rose on both her right and left, while ahead, straight [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]along her path, was a dense forest. The young woman felt a pang of worry at the sight, but she remembered the fairy's advice and walked on confidently. Even though their conversation hadn't seemed like it lasted long, the sun was already high in the sky, and its rays beat down so fiercely that she was thankful for the gloomy forest's shade. When she reached the first trees, she was happy to hear the sound of a little brook trickling over the stones and discovered that the good fairy had provided her with some supplies, which she now happily made use of.

As the afternoon grew cooler she rose and walked on till nightfall without further adventure, and then disposed herself to rest for the night, climbing first into the spreading boughs of a large tree, that she might be out of the way of any wild beasts which the forest might harbour.

As the afternoon got cooler, she got up and walked until nightfall without any more adventures. Then she settled down to rest for the night, first climbing into the wide branches of a large tree to stay out of the way of any wild animals that might be lurking in the forest.

In the middle of the night her sleep was disturbed by a horrible growling; and what was her surprise when she fully woke to find that though it proceeded from a common he-, and she-bear5 stretched out under the very tree she had chosen for her resting-place, she could understand all the meaning it contained just as if they had spoken in words; and she recognised the new power as another gift of the good fairy.

In the middle of the night, her sleep was interrupted by a terrible growling; and she was shocked when she fully woke up to find that it came from a male and female bear stretched out under the very tree she had chosen to rest. She realized she could understand everything they meant as if they were speaking in words, and she recognized this new ability as another gift from the good fairy.

‘Where have you been all this long time?’ growled the she-bear; ‘it is quite abominable what a long time you stay away now continually; I have been hunting through the whole forest for you.’

‘Where have you been all this time?’ growled the she-bear. ‘It’s really unacceptable how long you keep staying away; I’ve been searching the whole forest for you.’

‘That was quite waste of trouble,’ replied the he-bear testily, ‘for I have been a long way from the forest.’

‘That was a real waste of time,’ the he-bear snapped, ‘because I've traveled far from the forest.’

‘Where were you, then?’ growled the she-bear again, with a tone that showed she was determined to know all about it.

‘Where were you, then?’ growled the she-bear again, with a tone that showed she was determined to know all about it.

‘If you must know, I went twenty miles along the side of the river, then over the back of the rocky mountains, and then skirting round the forest till I came to the kingdom [52]of Persia. And out of the kingdom of Persia there went up a great wail, for last night, from his high tower, the king of Persia fell out of window and broke all his bones, moreover his flesh is all cut with the glass, which has entered into his wounds. Therefore the land of Persia bewails her king.’

‘If you really want to know, I traveled twenty miles along the river, then crossed over the rocky mountains, and then went around the forest until I reached the kingdom [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] of Persia. And from the kingdom of Persia arose a loud cry, because last night, from his high tower, the king of Persia fell out of the window and broke all his bones; moreover, his flesh is all cut by the glass that has entered into his wounds. Therefore, the land of Persia mourns for her king.’

‘Then let them get another king,’ growled the she-bear.

‘Then let them get another king,’ growled the female bear.

‘That is not so easy,’ rejoined the he-bear. ‘For over all the face of the earth was no king so comely in person as the king of Persia. But that is not the worst, for the matter concerns us more nearly than you have any idea of.’

‘That’s not so easy,’ replied the he-bear. ‘There was no ruler across the entire earth as good-looking as the king of Persia. But that’s not the worst part, because this issue affects us more closely than you realize.’

‘How can it concern us?’ retorted the she-bear.

‘How is that our concern?’ retorted the she-bear.

‘It concerns us so much that if anyone only knew of us we should both be killed. For the only remedy for his wounds is that we should both be killed, the fat of our bodies be melted together, an ointment made of it with honey and wax, and be smeared over the king’s body, and then bathe him in warm baths, doing this alternately for the space of three days he will be made well again. And now he has sent a proclamation into all lands inviting any physician to come to heal him by his art, and if any of them by their books and their divination should discover this we both shall certainly be put to death.’

‘We’re really worried that if anyone finds out about us, we’ll both be killed. The only way to heal his wounds is for us to die, then melt the fat from our bodies together to make an ointment with honey and wax, and rub it on the king’s body. After that, we’d have to bathe him in warm baths, alternating this for three days, and he would recover. Now he’s sent out a proclamation to all lands inviting any physician to come and heal him with their skills, and if any of them discover this through their books or divination, we will definitely be executed.’

‘Nonsense! do come and go to sleep,’ replied the she-bear testily; ‘how should anyone find us out in the midst of this forest?’

‘Nonsense! Come on, go to sleep,’ replied the she-bear irritably; ‘how could anyone possibly find us here in the middle of this forest?’

‘It’s not very likely certainly,’ growled the he-bear.

‘It’s not very likely, for sure,’ growled the male bear.

And in consequence of this happy feeling of security both brutes were soon fast asleep.

And because of this comforting sense of security, both animals quickly fell asleep.

How gladly the maiden listened to their snoring, when she found she could understand it just as well as their growling.

How happily the girl listened to their snoring, when she realized she could understand it just as well as their growling.

‘I’m sound asleep,’ snored the she-bear. [53]

‘I’m sound asleep,’ snored the she-bear. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘I’m so tired I don’t want ever to wake again,’ snored her mate.

‘I’m so tired I don’t want to wake up again,’ her partner snored.

‘Neither shall you,’ said the maiden as she noiselessly let herself down from the tree.

‘Neither will you,’ said the young woman as she quietly climbed down from the tree.

‘Only think of that old king of Persia wanting our fat; long may he wish for it!’ snored the she-bear.

‘Just think about that old king of Persia wanting our fat; may he keep wishing for it!’ snored the she-bear.

‘Now it would be a fine thing to give back all his strength and his beauty to the king of Persia, but the price of one’s life is too much for the honour,’ snored the he-bear.

‘Now it would be great to give back all his strength and beauty to the king of Persia, but the cost of one’s life is too high for the honor,’ snored the he-bear.

‘Nevertheless, you shall have that honour,’ whispered the maiden, as she drew two sharp two-edged knives with which her girdle was furnished, and, taking her stand firmly, plunged one with each hand deep into the throat of each beast. A mingled stream of blood gushed forth, and the two huge carcases rolled over without so much as a grunt, so neatly had the execution been performed.

‘Still, you will have that honor,’ whispered the young woman, as she pulled out the two sharp, double-edged knives from her belt and, standing her ground, plunged one into the throat of each beast. A rush of blood poured out, and the two massive bodies collapsed without a sound, so skillfully had the task been executed.

By the first morning’s light she once more called all her courage to her assistance, and cut up the carcasses, extracting the fat. Then she lit a fire and melted it down together, nor was she without the requisite wax and honey, for the good fairy had provided her with enough of each. The ointment made, she set out to follow the line of travel the bear had indicated, and not without much toil and weariness at last found herself in the kingdom of Persia. Strong in belief in the efficacy of her remedy, she presented herself at once at the palace gate and demanded admission on the score of her ability to effect the desired cure of the ailing king.

By the first light of morning, she gathered all her courage again and began to cut up the carcasses, removing the fat. Then she started a fire and melted it all down together, and she wasn’t lacking in the necessary wax and honey, as the good fairy had supplied her with plenty of both. Once the ointment was made, she set out to follow the path the bear had indicated, and after a lot of hard work and exhaustion, she finally found herself in the kingdom of Persia. Confident in the effectiveness of her remedy, she went straight to the palace gate and asked to be let in, claiming she could cure the ailing king.

‘Though I may not have the high-sounding fame of which I daresay many can boast who have come at the summons of your king, yet so certain am I of the powers of my treatment that I put my life in your hands, and give you leave to torture me to death if I succeed not.’

‘Even though I might not have the grand reputation that many others can brag about who have come at the call of your king, I'm so confident in the effectiveness of my treatment that I'm putting my life in your hands, and you have my permission to torture me to death if I don't succeed.’

‘Fear not, fair sir,’ replied the chamberlain; ‘no difficulty will be made in admitting you, for you alone have [54]applied to heal the king. Every other mediciner throughout the whole world, on reading the description of the king’s ailments given in the proclamation, has pronounced his health past recovery, and not one will even make the attempt.’

‘Don’t worry, good sir,’ the chamberlain replied. ‘There will be no trouble letting you in, as you are the only one who has [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]offered to heal the king. Every other healer in the world, after reading the description of the king’s condition in the announcement, has declared his health beyond recovery, and not a single one will even try.’

Pale, emaciated, and agonised as he was, the maiden at once recognised on her admission to the presence of the king the justice of the bear’s account of his personal attractions, and now more earnestly than ever desired her success.

Pale, thin, and in pain as he was, the young woman immediately saw the truth in the bear's description of his looks as soon as she entered the king's presence, and she now wanted her success more than ever.

The king very willingly submitted to her medicaments, and at the end of three days was, as the bear had predicted, quite sound in limb and restored to all his beauty of person. If his personal attractions had been an object of admiration to the maiden, those of his supposed physician had not been lost on the king, and when she came on the fourth day to take her leave of him, he told her at once he could not think of parting with her; she must remain attached to his court, and be always his physician in attendance. The flush of joy which she could not conceal at the proposal sufficed to convince the king of the justice of certain suspicions he had already entertained, that his supposed physician was no physician, but a maiden worthy to be his queen.

The king gladly accepted her treatments, and after three days, just like the bear had said, he was completely healed and returned to his handsome self. If the girl had admired his physical attractiveness, the king had definitely noticed her appeal as his supposed doctor. So, when she visited him on the fourth day to say goodbye, he immediately told her he couldn’t bear to part with her; she had to stay at his court and be his personal doctor. The joy she couldn’t hide at his suggestion convinced the king that his earlier suspicions were correct: his so-called doctor was actually a young woman worthy of being his queen.

For the moment he said nothing further, but only assigned to the stranger apartments in the palace, and a suite of his own, and a yearly stipend on the most liberal scale. As days went by, being continually in each other’s presence, with that familiarity which their new relations allowed, each had the opportunity of growing more and more fond of the other. At last the king called his chamberlain to him one day and told him it was his desire that the state physician should appear before him dressed in queenly robes, and attended by a train of ladies of the court, and damsels and pages of honour.

For now, he didn't say anything more but assigned the stranger rooms in the palace, a suite of his own, and a generous annual allowance. As the days went by and they spent more time together, their new relationship allowed them to become increasingly fond of one another. Finally, one day, the king summoned his chamberlain and expressed his wish for the state physician to appear before him dressed in regal garments, accompanied by a group of ladies from the court, along with honor attendants and pages.

The chamberlain fancied that the life-peril through [55]which the prince had so lately passed had injured his brain, and only undertook the commission with a visible reluctance. Nevertheless, as he durst not disobey any command of his sovereign, how strange soever, all was done as he had directed; though what puzzled the chamberlain the more was that the physician seemed as nearly demented as the king, for, instead of testifying any reluctance in submitting to such a travesty, his countenance had betrayed the most unmistakable joy at hearing the king’s pleasure.

The chamberlain believed that the near-death experience the prince had just gone through had affected his mind, and he only took on the task with clear hesitation. However, since he couldn't disobey any order from his ruler, no matter how odd, everything was done as he instructed; what confused the chamberlain even more was that the doctor seemed almost as out of sorts as the king. Instead of showing any reluctance about such a strange situation, the doctor's face showed unmistakable joy at hearing what the king wanted.

The king had further given orders for the attendance of all the great officers of state and all the nobles of the land, as well as his guards of various degrees, all in brilliant gala dress. Before going into the state hall to receive their homage, however, he entered alone into his private cabinet, whither he commanded the attendance of his physician. Both meeting thus, each habited to the greatest advantage in their own appropriate dress, each was more than ever smitten with the attractions of the other. The king was not very long in winning from the maiden the confession that the robes she now wore were those of her sex, or that she shared his own desire that they should be united by that tie which would bind them together inseparably for ever. No sooner had he thus obtained her consent than he led her into the midst of the assembled court and required the homage of all his people to her as their queen.

The king had also ordered all the high-ranking officials and nobles of the realm, along with his guards in their finest uniforms, to attend. Before entering the state hall to receive their loyalty, he went alone to his private chamber and called for his physician. When they met, both dressed to impress in their respective outfits, they were even more attracted to each other. The king quickly got the young woman to admit that the clothes she wore were those of her gender and that she shared his wish for them to be united in a bond that would tie them together forever. As soon as she agreed, he took her into the middle of the gathered court and demanded that everyone acknowledge her as their queen.

As for the wicked sisters, his first act was to send for them and have them burnt to death. [56]

As for the evil sisters, his first action was to summon them and have them burned alive. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

[‘How well I remember,’ added the narrator, ‘the way my mother used always to end that story when she told it to me.’

[‘How well I remember,’ added the narrator, ‘the way my mother always ended that story when she told it to me.’

‘And how was that?’ asked I eagerly, not at all sorry to come across some local addition at last.

‘And how was that?’ I asked eagerly, glad to finally discover some local insight.

‘But it has nothing to do with the tale, really,’ she replied, as deeming it too unimportant to trouble me with.

‘But it has nothing to do with the story, really,’ she replied, thinking it was too trivial to bother me with.

‘Never mind, I should like to hear it,’ said I.

‘Never mind, I’d like to hear it,’ I said.

‘Well then, it used to run thus: “Never was such a banquet made in all the world as for the nuptials of this king of Persia. The confetti were as big as eggs; and, do you know, I had five of them given to me.”’

‘Well then, it used to go like this: “There’s never been a banquet like the one for the wedding of this king of Persia. The confetti were the size of eggs; and, you know what, I got five of them handed to me.”’

‘O mamma,’ I used to say then, ‘why didn’t you keep them for me? what splendid confetti they must have been!’

‘Oh mom,’ I used to say then, ‘why didn’t you save them for me? They must have been such amazing confetti!’

‘Stop, and you shall hear what I did with them,’ she would reply.

‘Stop, and you’ll find out what I did with them,’ she would reply.

Uno lo dava al gallo One I gave to the cock
Che mi portava a cavallo, Who carried me on his back,6
Una a la gallina And one to the hen
Che m’ insegnò la via. Who showed me the way,
Uno al porco And one to the pig
Che m’ insegnò la porta. Who pointed out the door;
Uno ne mangiai, One I ate myself,
E uno ne misse là, And one I put by there,
Che ancora ci sarà. Where no doubt it still remains.

And she used to point as she spoke at an old glass cabinet, where I would go and rummage, always expecting to find the sweetmeat, till one day, getting convinced it had no existence, I got very angry, and threw a big key at one of the panes and broke it, and she never would tell me that story any more.] [57]

And she would point as she talked at an old glass cabinet, where I would go and search, always hoping to find the candy, until one day, convinced it didn't exist, I got really angry and threw a big key at one of the panes and broke it, and she never told me that story again. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Il vaso di persa.’ Marjoram goes by the name of ‘persa’ in the vernacular of Rome. Parsley, which sounds the more literal translation, is ‘erbetta.’ I think the narrator believed it to be connected with Persia. ↑

1 ‘The lost vase.’ In Roman slang, marjoram is called ‘persa.’ The term for parsley, which might seem like a more direct translation, is ‘erbetta.’ I believe the narrator thought it was linked to Persia. ↑

2 ‘Fata’ is a powerful enchantress. I know no English equivalent but ‘fairy,’ though there is this difference that a ‘fata’ is by no means invariably an airy and beautiful being; she more often wears a very ordinary appearance, and not unfrequently that of a very old wrinkled woman, but is always goodnatured and benevolent, as distinguished from the malevolent ‘strega,’ a nearer counterpart of our ‘witch.’ ↑

2 ‘Fata’ is a powerful enchantress. There isn't a perfect English equivalent for it, but ‘fairy’ comes close, even though there’s a key difference: a ‘fata’ isn’t always an light and beautiful creature; she often appears quite ordinary, and sometimes even as an old, wrinkled woman. However, she is always kind and generous, unlike the malevolent ‘strega,’ which is more similar to our ‘witch.’ ↑

3 ‘Le femmine sempre pigliano il peggio.’ ↑

3 "Women always get the short end of the stick." ↑

4 ‘Non tutto il male vien’ per nuocere.’ ↑

4 ‘Not all bad things happen to cause harm.’ ↑

5 ‘Orgo,’ the vernacular form of the classic ‘Orco,’ is the Italian equivalent for ‘Old Bogey;’ but it is also used in place of ‘orso,’ a bear (as in the precise instance of this tale being told to me), when it is desired to give terror to his character in a tale. ↑

5 ‘Orgo,’ the casual version of the classic ‘Orco,’ is the Italian word for ‘Old Bogey;’ but it’s also used instead of ‘orso,’ meaning a bear (as in this specific instance of the story being told to me), when it’s meant to add fear to his character in a story. ↑

6 Has this anything to do with ‘riding the cock-horse’? ↑

6 Does this have anything to do with ‘riding the cock-horse? ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE POT OF RUE.1

They say there was once a rich merchant who had three daughters. Two of them were very gay and fond of dancing and theatres, but the youngest was very stay-at-home and scarcely ever went beyond the garden.

They say there was once a wealthy merchant who had three daughters. Two of them were very lively and loved dancing and going to the theater, but the youngest was more of a homebody and hardly ever left the garden.

One day when the father was going abroad to buy merchandise, he asked his three daughters what he should bring them home. The two eldest asked for all manner of dresses and ornaments, but the youngest asked only for a pot of rue.

One day when their father was going overseas to buy goods, he asked his three daughters what he should bring back for them. The two older daughters requested all kinds of dresses and jewelry, but the youngest only asked for a pot of rue.

‘That’s a funny fancy,’ said the father, ‘but an easy one to satisfy at all events; so be sure you shall have it.’

‘That’s a funny idea,’ said the father, ‘but it’s an easy one to fulfill, so rest assured you’ll get it.’

‘Not so easy, perhaps, as you think,’ replied the maiden; ‘only now you have promised it, mind you bring it, as you will find you will not be able to get home unless you bring it with you.’

‘Not as easy as you might think,’ replied the girl; ‘but now that you’ve promised it, just remember to bring it, because you’ll find you won’t be able to get home unless you take it with you.’

The father did not pay much heed to her words, but went to a far country, bought his merchandise, taking care to include the fine clothes and jewels for his two eldest daughters, and, forgetting about the pot of rue, set out to come home.

The father didn’t pay much attention to what she said, but traveled to a distant country, bought his goods, making sure to get nice clothes and jewelry for his two oldest daughters, and, forgetting about the pot of rue, set out to return home.

They were scarcely a day’s journey out at sea when the ship stood quite still, nor was the captain able by any means to govern it, for neither sail nor oar would move it an inch.

They were barely a day’s journey out at sea when the ship came to a complete stop, and the captain couldn't control it at all, since neither the sails nor the oars would budge it even a little.

‘Some one on board has an unfulfilled promise on him,’ declared the captain; and he called upon whoever it was to come forward and own it, that he might be thrown overboard, and that the lives of all the passengers and crew should not be put in jeopardy by his fault.

‘Someone on board has an unfulfilled promise,’ declared the captain; and he urged whoever it was to step forward and admit it, so he could be thrown overboard, and the lives of all the passengers and crew wouldn't be endangered by his mistake.

Then the merchant came forward and said it was true he had forgotten to bring with him something he had promised to his little daughter, but that it was so slight a matter he did not think it could be that which was stopping the ship. [58]

Then the merchant stepped up and said it was true he had forgotten to bring something he promised his little daughter, but it was such a small thing that he didn't think it could be what was holding up the ship. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

As no one else had anything of the sort to accuse themselves of, the captain judged that it was indeed the merchant’s fault that had stopped the ship; only, as he was such a great merchant and a frequent trader by his vessel, he agreed to put back with him instead of throwing him overboard. He first, however, asked,—

As no one else had anything similar to confess, the captain decided that it was definitely the merchant's fault for stopping the ship. However, since the merchant was such a prominent trader and frequently used his vessel, the captain agreed to turn back with him instead of throwing him overboard. First, though, he asked,—

‘And what may the thing be that you have to take to your daughter?’

‘And what is it that you need to take to your daughter?’

‘Nothing but a pot of rue,’ replied the merchant.

‘Just a pot of rue,’ replied the merchant.

‘A pot of rue!’ answered the captain; ‘that is no easy matter. In the whole country there is no one has a plant of it but the king, and he is so choice over it that he has decreed that if anyone venture to ask him only for a single leaf he shall instantly be put to death.’

‘A pot of rue!’ replied the captain; ‘that’s not an easy thing to get. In the entire country, the only person who has a plant is the king, and he values it so much that he has declared that anyone who dares to ask him for even a single leaf will be put to death immediately.’

‘That is bad hearing,’ said the merchant. ‘Nevertheless, as I have promised to get it I must make the trial, and if I perish in the attempt I might have had a worse death.’

‘That is poor hearing,’ said the merchant. ‘Still, since I promised to get it, I have to give it a try, and if I die in the process, it could have been a worse death.’

So they landed the merchant, and he went straight up to the king’s palace.

So they brought the merchant to shore, and he went directly to the king’s palace.

‘Majesty!’ he said, throwing himself on his knees before the throne. ‘It is in no spirit of wantonness I break the decree which forbids the asking a single leaf of the precious plant of rue. A promise was on me before I knew the king’s decree, and I am bound thereby to ask not merely a single leaf but the whole plant, of the king, even though it be at peril of my life.’

‘Your Majesty!’ he said, dropping to his knees before the throne. ‘I’m not breaking the rule against asking for even a single leaf of the precious rue plant out of disrespect. I made a promise before I knew of the king's decree, and I’m obligated to ask not just for a single leaf but for the whole plant from the king, even if it puts my life at risk.’

Then said the king,—

Then the king said,—

‘To whom hadst thou made this promise?’

‘To whom did you make this promise?’

And the merchant made answer,—

And the merchant replied,—

‘Though it was only to my youngest daughter I made the promise, yet having made it, I will not leave off from asking for it.’

‘Even though I only made the promise to my youngest daughter, now that I’ve made it, I won’t stop asking for it.’

Then the king answered,—

Then the king replied,—

‘Because thou hast been faithful to thy promise, and courageous in risking thy life rather than to break thy [59]word, behold I give the whole plant at thy desire; and this without breaking my royal decree. For my decree said that whoso desired a single leaf should be put to death, but in that thou hast asked the whole plant thou hast shown a courage worthy of reward.’

‘Because you have been faithful to your promise, and brave enough to risk your life rather than go back on your word, look, I give you the whole plant as you asked; and this without breaking my royal decree. For my decree stated that whoever desired a single leaf should be put to death, but by asking for the whole plant, you have shown a courage deserving of reward.’

So he took the plant of rue and gave it to the merchant to give to his daughter; moreover, he bade him tell her that she should every night burn a leaf of the plant. With that he dismissed him.

So he took the rue plant and gave it to the merchant to give to his daughter; he also told him to let her know that she should burn a leaf of the plant every night. With that, he sent him on his way.

The merchant returned home and distributed the presents he had brought to his daughters, and not more pleased were the elder ones with their fine gifts than was the younger with her simple pot of rue. In the evening they went with their father to the ball as usual, but the youngest staid at home as she was wont to do, and this night she burnt a leaf of the rue as the king had bidden her. But the king had three beautiful sons, and no sooner had she burnt the rue leaf than the eldest son of the king appeared before her, and sitting beside her, said so many kind things that no evening had ever passed so pleasantly. This she did every evening as the king had bidden.

The merchant came home and shared the gifts he had brought for his daughters, and the older ones were just as happy with their fancy presents as the youngest was with her simple pot of rue. That evening, they all went with their father to the ball like usual, but the youngest stayed home as she typically did, and that night she burned a leaf of the rue as the king had instructed her. As soon as she did, the king's eldest son appeared beside her and said so many sweet things that she had never enjoyed an evening so much. She followed the king’s instructions every night.

But the other merchants said to the merchant her father,—

But the other merchants said to the merchant, her father,—

‘How is it that only two daughters come to the balls?’

‘How come only two daughters attend the balls?’

And the merchant, not knowing how to account for the youngest daughter’s preference for staying at home, answered,—

And the merchant, unsure why the youngest daughter preferred to stay home, responded,—

‘I have only two daughters old enough to come to the balls?’

‘I only have two daughters who are old enough to attend the balls?’

But the other merchants said,—

But the other sellers said,—

‘Nay, but bring now thy youngest daughter.’

'Nay, but bring your youngest daughter now.'

So the next evening the merchant made the youngest daughter go with him to the ball, and the two elder daughters were left at home.

So the next evening, the merchant took his youngest daughter with him to the ball, while the two older daughters stayed home.

As the youngest was wont never to leave her room, the [60]others, how jealous soever they were of her, were never able to do her any harm. But now that they felt secure she was absent for a considerable space, they went into her apartment and set fire to it, and the whole place was burnt, and also the garden, and the plant of rue.

As the youngest never left her room, the [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]others, no matter how jealous they were of her, couldn’t do her any harm. But now that they felt safe with her gone for a long time, they entered her room and set it on fire, burning everything, including the garden and the rue plant.

If the king’s son had come in haste for the burning of a single leaf, I leave it to be imagined with what speed he came for the burning of the whole plant. With such impetus, indeed, he came, that he was bruised and burnt all over with the flaming beams of which the apartment was built, and cut all over with the broken glass; so that when he reached home again he was in a sorry plight indeed.

If the king’s son had rushed in a hurry for the burning of just one leaf, you can imagine how fast he came for the burning of the entire plant. He came with such force that he was bruised and burned all over from the flames the room was made of, and cut all over by the broken glass; so by the time he got home again, he was in really bad shape.

But the youngest daughter, coming home with her father from the ball, and finding all her apartment burnt to the ground, as well as all the plants in the garden, and with them the pot of rue, she said, ‘I will stay no more in this place.’ So she dressed herself in man’s clothes and wandered forth.

But the youngest daughter, returning home with her father from the ball and discovering that her entire apartment had burned down, along with all the plants in the garden, including the pot of rue, said, "I won’t stay here anymore." So she got dressed in men’s clothes and set out.

On, on, on, she went, till night came, and she could go no further, but she laid herself to sleep under a tree. In the middle of the night came an ogre and an ogress,2 and laid themselves down also under the tree. Then she heard the ogre speaking to the ogress, and saying, ‘Our king’s eldest son, the flower of the land, is sore ill and like to die, having fallen through the window of the highest story of the palace, and is cut with the glass, and bruised all over. What shall be done to heal the king’s eldest son, the flower of the land?’

On and on she went until night fell, and she couldn't walk any further, so she settled down to sleep under a tree. In the middle of the night, an ogre and an ogress arrived and also lay down under the tree. Then she heard the ogre talking to the ogress, saying, "Our king’s oldest son, the pride of the kingdom, is very ill and might die, having fallen from the highest window of the palace, and he's cut by the glass and bruised all over. What should we do to heal the king’s oldest son, the pride of the kingdom?"

And the ogress made answer: ‘This is what should be done—but it is well no one knows it. They should kill us, and take the fat that is round our hearts and make an ointment, and anoint therewith the wounds of the king’s son.’

And the ogress replied, ‘This is what needs to be done—but it's good that no one knows. They should kill us, take the fat around our hearts, make an ointment from it, and use it to treat the wounds of the king’s son.’

When the merchant’s daughter heard this, she waited till the ogre and ogress were gone to sleep; then she took [61]out a brace of pistols—for with the man’s dress she had also a brace of pistols—and with one in each hand she killed the ogre and ogress together, and with her knife she ripped them open, and took out the fat that was round their hearts. Then she journeyed on till she came to the king’s palace. At the door of the palace stood a guard, who told her there was no entrance for such as her; but she said, ‘To heal the wounds of the king’s eldest son am I come.’

When the merchant’s daughter heard this, she waited until the ogre and ogress were fast asleep. Then she pulled out a pair of pistols—along with the man's outfit, she also had a pair of pistols—and with one in each hand, she killed both the ogre and the ogress. Using her knife, she opened them up and took out the fat that surrounded their hearts. After that, she traveled on until she reached the king’s palace. At the entrance, a guard told her that people like her weren’t allowed inside, but she replied, “I’ve come to heal the wounds of the king’s eldest son.”

Then the sentinel laughed, and said, ‘So many great and learned surgeons have come, and have benefited him nothing, there is no entrance for a mountebank like thee. Begone! begone!’

Then the guard laughed and said, ‘So many skilled and knowledgeable surgeons have come and haven't helped him at all; there's no room for a charlatan like you. Get lost! Get lost!’

But she, knowing certainly that she had the only means of healing, would not be sent away; and when the sentinel would have driven her off she struggled so bravely that he had to call out all the guard to resist her; and when they all used their strength against her, she protested so loudly that the noise of the struggle made the king himself begin to inquire what was the matter. Then they told him, ‘Behold, there stands without a low and base fellow, who would fain pretend to heal the wounds of the king’s son.’

But she, fully aware that she had the only way to heal him, refused to leave; and when the guard tried to push her away, she fought back so fiercely that he had to call in the entire guard to hold her back. As they all exerted their strength against her, she protested so loudly that the king himself began to ask what was going on. They told him, ‘Look, there’s a lowly person outside who pretends he can heal the king’s son’s wounds.’

But the king answered: ‘As all the great and learned surgeons have failed, let even the travelling doctor try his skill; maybe he knows some means of healing.’

But the king replied, “Since all the great and knowledgeable surgeons have failed, let even the traveling doctor try his skills; maybe he knows a way to heal.”

Then she was brought into the apartment of the king’s son, and she asked for all she needed to make the ointment, and linen for bandages, and to be left alone with him for the space of a week. At the end of a week the king’s son was perfectly cured and well. Then she dressed herself with care, but still in the garb of a travelling doctor—for she had no other—and stood before him, and said, ‘Know you me not?’ And when he looked at her he said, ‘Ah! yes; the maiden of the rue plant!’ For till then she had been so soiled with the dust of travel that he could not [62]recognise her. Then when he had recognised her he protested he would marry her, and, sending to the king his father, he told him the same.

Then she was taken into the apartment of the prince, and she asked for everything she needed to make the ointment, along with some linen for bandages, and requested to be left alone with him for a week. By the end of the week, the prince was completely cured and healthy. She dressed carefully, still in the outfit of a traveling doctor—since it was all she had—and stood before him, saying, “Don’t you recognize me?” When he looked at her, he replied, “Ah! yes; the girl with the rue plant!” Until that moment, she had been so covered in travel dust that he couldn’t recognize her. Once he realized who she was, he declared he would marry her and sent word to his father, the king, to tell him the same.

When the king heard of his resolve, he said, ‘It is well that the prince is healed of his wounds; but with the return of bodily health it is evident he has lost his reason, in that he is determined to marry his surgeon. Nevertheless, as nothing is gained in this kind of malady by contradiction, it is best to humour him. We must get this surgeon to submit to be dressed up like a princess, and we must amuse him by letting him go through the form of marrying her.’

When the king heard about his decision, he said, ‘It’s great that the prince has recovered from his injuries; but now that he’s physically fine, it’s clear he’s lost his mind since he wants to marry his surgeon. Still, since arguing won’t help in this situation, it’s best to go along with him. We need to get this surgeon to dress up like a princess, and we should entertain him by letting him pretend to marry her.’

It was done, therefore, as the king had said. But when the ladies of the court came to attend the supposed surgeon, and saw her dressed in her bridal robes, they saw by the way they became her that she was indeed a woman and no surgeon, and that the prince was by no means distempered in his mind.

It was done, then, as the king had instructed. But when the ladies of the court came to see the supposed surgeon and saw her in her wedding dress, they realized by how well it suited her that she was really a woman, not a surgeon, and that the prince was definitely not out of his mind.

But the prince silenced their exclamations, saying: ‘Nay, but say nothing; for perchance if my father knew that this should be a real marriage, and no mere make-believe to humour a disordered whim, he might withhold his consent, seeing the maiden is no princess. But I know she is the wife destined for me, because my mother, before she died, told me I should know her by the pot of rue; and because, by devoting herself to healing me, she has deserved well of me. So let the marriage go through, even as the king my father had devised.’

But the prince quieted their outbursts, saying: ‘No, don’t say anything; because if my father found out that this was a real marriage and not just a fantasy to indulge a troubled whim, he might withdraw his approval, since the girl isn’t a princess. But I know she is the woman meant for me, because my mother, before she passed away, told me I would recognize her by the pot of rue; and because, by dedicating herself to healing me, she has earned my gratitude. So let the marriage happen, just as my father, the king, planned.’

So the marriage was celebrated, and when the king learnt afterwards that the pretended surgeon was a real maiden, he knew the thing could not be altered, and said nothing. So the merchant’s daughter became the prince’s wife.

So the marriage happened, and when the king found out later that the supposed surgeon was actually a real woman, he realized that there was no way to change it, so he kept quiet. So the merchant’s daughter became the prince’s wife.

[The following is a third variant of this story, but so like the last, that I only give an abbreviated version of it.] [63]

[The following is a third version of this story, but it's so similar to the last one that I’m only providing a shortened version of it.] [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Il Vaso di Ruta.’ ↑

1 'The Rue Vase.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Orco ed orchessa.’ ↑

2 'Orc and ogress.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

KING OTHO.1

In this case the merchant, when he goes out to buy his wares, asks his three daughters what he shall bring them. The eldest asks for fine dresses, the second for beautiful shawls, the third for nothing but some sand out of the garden of King Otho. The king had registered sentence of death against anyone who should ask for the sand. But in consideration of a bribe of three hundred scudi the gardener gives him a little.

In this situation, the merchant, when he goes out to buy his goods, asks his three daughters what he should bring back for them. The oldest asks for fancy dresses, the middle one for pretty shawls, and the youngest only asks for some sand from King Otho's garden. The king had declared it a death sentence for anyone who requested the sand. However, for a bribe of three hundred scudi, the gardener gives him a small amount.

When she gets it, the daughter burns a little in the evening, when the sisters are gone to a ball. Instantly King Otho comes, and falls in love with her. She gives him a most exquisite pair of knee-bands she has embroidered, before he goes away. The second night she gives him a handkerchief of her work, and the third a beautiful necktie.

When she receives it, the daughter feels a bit of excitement in the evening, after her sisters have gone to a ball. Right away, King Otho arrives and falls for her. Before he leaves, she gives him a stunning pair of knee-bands she has embroidered. On the second night, she gifts him a handkerchief she made, and on the third, a beautiful necktie.

After this, her father insists one evening that she should go to the ball. Her sisters say that if she goes they shall stay away. When she is gone they burn down her room, and in it all the sand of King Otho’s garden. If the king came quickly for the burning of a little pinch, he naturally comes in exceeding greater haste at the burning of the whole quantity: in such haste that he is wounded all over with the blazing beams and broken glass. There is a great explosion.2 As he knew nothing about the spite of the sisters, he could only think that the mischief arose from the misconduct of her to whom the sand had been given, and determines accordingly to have nothing more to do with her.

After that, her father insists one evening that she should go to the ball. Her sisters say that if she goes, they won't show up. While she's away, they burn down her room, taking all the sand from King Otho’s garden with it. If the king rushed to handle a small fire, he obviously comes running even faster when the whole place is in flames; he arrives so quickly that he gets injured from the burning beams and shattered glass. There’s a huge explosion. As he knows nothing about the sisters' jealousy, he can only assume that the trouble was caused by the girl who was given the sand, and he decides to have nothing more to do with her.

When she comes home, and finds what has happened, she is in despair. She dresses like a man and goes away. In the night, in a cave where she takes shelter, she hears an ogre and ogress talking over what has happened, and they say that the only cure is an ointment made of their blood.3 She shoots them both, and takes their blood and [64]heals the king with it. The king offers any kind of reward the supposed doctor will name; but she will have nothing but some of the sand of the garden. She contrives, however, to discover the knee-bands, the handkerchief, and the necktie she had given him, and asks him what they are. ‘Oh, only the presents of a faithless lover,’ he replies. She then insists he should give them up to her, which he does, and she goes away.

When she gets home and sees what happened, she feels devastated. She dresses like a man and leaves. At night, while sheltering in a cave, she overhears an ogre and ogress discussing the situation, and they say the only remedy is an ointment made from their blood.3 She shoots both of them, collects their blood, and [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]uses it to heal the king. The king offers any reward the supposed healer desires, but she only asks for some of the sand from the garden. However, she manages to find the knee-bands, handkerchief, and necktie she had given him, and asks him what they are. "Oh, just the gifts of a disloyal lover," he replies. She then insists he should give them back to her, which he does, and she leaves.

When she gets home she burns a pinch of the sand, and the king is forced by its virtue to appear; but he comes in great indignation, and accuses her of wounding him. She replies it was not she who wounded him, but who healed him. He is incredulous; and she shows him the knee-bands, handkerchief, and necktie, which convince him he owes his healing to her. They make peace, and are married.

When she gets home, she burns a bit of the sand, and the king has to show up because of its power; but he arrives very angry and accuses her of hurting him. She responds that it wasn’t her who hurt him, but rather who healed him. He doesn’t believe her, so she shows him the knee-bands, handkerchief, and necktie, which prove to him that he owes his healing to her. They make up and get married.

[Mr. Ralston gives a very pretty counterpart of so much of this story as relates to the transformation of a human being into a flower, at p. 15 of the story commencing at page 10, and ‘Aschenputtel,’ Grimm, p. 93, has something like it; but I do not recall any European story in which a person is actually wounded and half-killed by damage done to a tree mysteriously connected with him. There is something like it in the ‘trees of life’ which people plant, and their withering is to be a token that harm has befallen them.

[Mr. Ralston provides a beautiful example of the part of the story that deals with the transformation of a human into a flower, on page 15 of the story that starts on page 10, and ‘Aschenputtel,’ Grimm, page 93, has a similar theme; however, I can't think of any European tale where a person is actually hurt and nearly killed due to damage inflicted on a tree that is mysteriously linked to them. There is a similar idea in the ‘trees of life’ that people plant, where their wilting serves as a sign that harm has come to them.]

Overhearing the advice of supernatural beasts under a tree occurs in the Norse ‘True and Untrue,’ and is very common in all sorts of ways, everywhere. It enters, too, into the analogous Italian Tirolean tale of ‘I due cavallari,’ where witches figure instead of the orco and orchessa. [65]

Overhearing the advice of supernatural creatures under a tree happens in the Norse story ‘True and Untrue,’ and is quite common in various forms everywhere. It also appears in the similar Italian Tirolean tale of ‘I due cavallari,’ where witches take the place of the ogre and ogress. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Next, are four stories in which many incidents of the Cinderella type are set in a different framework; they are represented in the Gaelic by ‘The King who wanted to marry his Daughter;’ at the end of which reference will be found to other versions, where are details occurring in one or other of the following: that from Straparola is naturally the most like the Roman, but it is not like any one of them all throughout, and forms a remarkable link between the first Roman and the two Gaelic versions. The girl’s answer, that she ‘came from the country of candlesticks,’ in the second version, is noteworthy, because it connects it with the Roman story of the ‘Candeliera,’ at the same time that it conveys no sense in its own. The box in the Gaelic versions recalls, just as Mr. Campbell says, the fine old chests which served for conveying home the corredo (including much more than trousseau in its modern use) of the bride, which are not only preserved as heirlooms and curiosities in many an Italian palace, but in many a museum also; there are some very handsome ones at Perugia. And yet it is just in the Italian versions that the box loses this character. In Straparola’s, it is a wardrobe; in the two versions of ‘Maria di Legno,’ a wooden statue; in ‘La Candeliera,’ it has the shape of a candlestick. In the third version of ‘Maria di Legno,’ the box used is only an old press that happens to be in the deserted tower.

Next, there are four stories that contain many incidents similar to Cinderella, but set in different contexts. In Gaelic, they are referred to as ‘The King who wanted to marry his Daughter,’ at the end of which you’ll find references to other versions that include details from one or more of the following: the one from Straparola is the most similar to the Roman version, but it doesn't match any of them exactly and creates an interesting link between the first Roman and the two Gaelic versions. The girl’s response, that she ‘came from the country of candlesticks,’ in the second version is noteworthy because it connects with the Roman story of the ‘Candeliera,’ even though it doesn’t make sense on its own. The box in the Gaelic versions reminds us, as Mr. Campbell points out, of the beautiful old chests used to bring home the corredo (which includes much more than the modern use of trousseau) of the bride. These chests are preserved as heirlooms and curiosities not only in many Italian palaces but also in numerous museums; there are some very attractive ones in Perugia. However, it is in the Italian versions that the box loses this significance. In Straparola’s version, it is a wardrobe; in the two versions of ‘Maria di Legno,’ it’s a wooden statue; and in ‘La Candeliera,’ it takes the shape of a candlestick. In the third version of ‘Maria di Legno,’ the box used is just an old press found in the abandoned tower.

Mr. Ralston, pp. 77–8, supplies a Russian counterpart, in which it is a prince, and not a maiden, who is conveyed in a provisioned box, and this is linked hereby with the Hungarian story of Iron Ladislas, who descends by such means to the underground world in search of his sisters; and this again connects this story both with those in which I have already had occasion to mention him and with one to follow called ‘Il Rè Moro,’ one I have in MS. called ‘Il Cavolo d’oro,’ &c. The first and more elaborate of the four Roman stories, ‘Maria di Legno,’ does the same.] [66]

Mr. Ralston, pp. 77–8, provides a Russian version, where it’s a prince, not a maiden, who is transported in a supply box. This is connected to the Hungarian tale of Iron Ladislas, who descends by similar means to the underworld in search of his sisters. This also links the story to those I've previously mentioned and to one that follows called ‘The Black King,’ which I have in manuscript as ‘The Golden Cabbage,’ etc. The first and more detailed of the four Roman stories, ‘Maria of Wood,’ does the same. [[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]]

1 This was pronounced ‘Uttone,’ but was doubtless intended for ‘King Otho.’ Words which in Latin were spelt with a u, as ‘Bollo,’ ‘pollo,’ retain the sound of u in the mouth of the people; but I know of no reason for it in the present instance. ↑

1 This was pronounced 'Uttone,' but was probably meant to be 'King Otho.' Words that were spelled with a u in Latin, like 'Bollo,' 'pollo,' keep the u sound among the people; however, I can't see why it applies here. ↑

2 ‘Precipizio,’ equivalent to ‘an explosion,’ ‘a terrible kick-up,’ &c. ↑

2 ‘Precipizio,’ which means ‘an explosion,’ ‘a major disturbance,’ etc. ↑

3 The blood instead of the fat is one of the variations of this version. It is not easy to see how blood can enter into the composition of an ointment, yet one of the most frequent charges to be met in processes against witches was taking the blood of infants to make various ointments. ↑

3 The blood instead of fat is one of the differences in this version. It's not obvious how blood could be part of an ointment, but one of the most common accusations in witchcraft trials was that witches used the blood of infants to create various ointments. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

MARIA WOOD.1

Once again my story is of a widower father; this time, however, a king, and having one only daughter, Maria, the apple of his eye and the pride of his heart. The one concern of his life was to marry her well and happily before he died.

Once again, my story is about a widowed father; this time, however, he is a king, and he has only one daughter, Maria, the light of his life and the pride of his heart. His only worry was to see her married well and happily before he passed away.

The queen, whom he believed to be wise above mortal women, had left him when she died a ring, with the advice to listen to the addresses of no one on Maria’s behalf but his whose finger a gold ring which she gave him should fit, for that he whom it alone should fit would be a noble and a worthy husband indeed.

The queen, whom he thought was wiser than any other woman, left him a ring when she died with the advice to only pay attention to those who spoke on Maria’s behalf if the gold ring she had given him fit their finger, because the one it fit would be a truly noble and worthy husband.

Maria’s teacher was very different from those we have had to do with hitherto; she was a beneficent fairy, whose services her good and clever mother had obtained for her under this disguise, and all her lessons and actions were directed entirely for her benefit, and she was able to advise and look out for her better than her father himself.

Maria’s teacher was nothing like any of the ones we’ve dealt with before; she was a kind of fairy godmother, whose help her smart and caring mother had arranged for her in this way, and everything she taught and did was solely for Maria’s benefit, and she could give advice and support her even better than her dad could.

Time went by, and no one who came to court Maria had a finger which the ring would fit. It was not that Maria was not quite young enough to wait, but her father was growing old and feeble, and full of ailments, and he hasted to see her settled in life before death called him away.

Time passed, and no one who came to court Maria had a finger that the ring would fit. It wasn’t that Maria wasn't young enough to wait, but her father was getting old and weak, and full of health issues, and he was eager to see her settled in life before death took him away.

At last there came to sue for Maria’s hand a most accomplished cavalier, who declared himself to be a prince of a distant region, and he certainly brought costly presents, and was attended by a brilliant retinue well calculated to sustain the alleged character.

At last, a highly talented gentleman came to ask for Maria’s hand. He claimed to be a prince from a faraway land, and he definitely brought expensive gifts. He was accompanied by a lavish entourage that supported his supposed identity.

The father, who had had so much trouble about fitting the ring, was much disposed not to attend any more to this circumstance when the prince objected to be subjected to so trivial a trial. After some days, however, as he [67]hesitated finally to make up his mind to bestow her on him without his having fulfilled this condition, he suddenly consented to submit to it, when, lo and behold, the ring could not be found!

The father, who had struggled so much to fit the ring, was really not interested in dealing with this situation anymore when the prince refused to go through such a trivial test. However, after a few days, as he [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]hesitated and finally considered giving her to him without meeting this requirement, he unexpectedly agreed to it, only for the ring to suddenly go missing!

‘If you have not got the ring,’ said the prince, ‘it really is not my fault if it is not tried on. You see I am perfectly willing to accept the test, but if you cannot apply it you must not visit it on me.’

‘If you don’t have the ring,’ said the prince, ‘it’s really not my fault if it hasn’t been tried on. You see, I’m totally fine with taking the test, but if you can’t do it, you shouldn’t blame me for it.’

‘What you say is most reasonable,’ said the father. ‘But what can I do? I promised her mother I would not let the girl marry anyone but him the ring fitted.’

‘What you’re saying makes a lot of sense,’ said the father. ‘But what can I do? I promised her mother I wouldn’t let the girl marry anyone except the one the ring fits.’

‘Do you mean then that the girl is never to marry at all, since you have lost the ring! That would be monstrous indeed. You may be sure, however, in my case, the ring would have fitted if you had had it here, because I am so exactly the kind of husband your wife promised the ring should fit. So what more reasonable than to give her to me? However, to meet your wishes and prejudices to the utmost, I am willing to submit to any other test, however difficult, the young lady herself likes to name. Nay, I will say—three tests. Will that satisfy you?’

‘Are you saying that the girl is never going to get married at all, just because you lost the ring? That would be outrageous. You can be sure that in my case, the ring would have fit if you had it here, because I’m exactly the kind of husband your wife said the ring should fit. So what could be more reasonable than giving her to me? However, to accommodate your wishes and prejudices as much as possible, I’m willing to agree to any other test, no matter how challenging, that the young lady herself wants to suggest. In fact, I’d say—three tests. Would that work for you?’

All this was so perfectly reasonable that the father felt he could not but agree to it, and Maria was told to be ready the next day to name the first of the tests which she would substitute for that of the ring.

All of this made perfect sense to the father, so he felt he had no choice but to agree, and Maria was told to be ready the next day to suggest the first of the tests that she would use instead of the ring.

Though the prince was so handsome, so accomplished, so rich, and so persevering with his suit, Maria felt an instinctive dislike to him, which embarrassed her the more that she had no fault of any sort to find with him which she could make patent to her father.

Though the prince was incredibly handsome, accomplished, wealthy, and persistent in his pursuit, Maria felt an instinctive dislike for him, which embarrassed her even more since she couldn’t pinpoint any flaws in him that she could explain to her father.

To the compassionate and appreciative bosom of her teacher she poured out all her grief, and found there a ready response.

To the caring and understanding arms of her teacher, she shared all her sadness and found a willing ear.

The teacher, who by her fairy powers knew what mortals could not know, knew that the prince was no [68]other than the devil,2 and that the marriage must be prevented at any price, but that it would be vain for her to give this information to the father, as he would have laughed in her face, and told her to go and rule copy-books and knit stockings. She must, therefore, set to work in a different way to protect her charge from the impending evil.

The teacher, who could see things that ordinary people couldn't, understood that the prince was nothing but the devil, and that the wedding needed to be stopped at all costs. However, she knew it would be pointless to tell the father, as he would just laugh at her and tell her to stick to teaching and knitting. So, she had to find another way to keep her student safe from the impending danger.

In the first instance, however, and without mentioning the alarming disclosure of who her suitor really was, she merely bid Maria to be of good courage and all would come right; and for the test she had to propose, she bid her ask him to produce a dress woven of the stars of heaven.

In the beginning, though, without revealing the shocking truth about who her suitor actually was, she simply encouraged Maria to stay strong, assuring her that everything would turn out fine; and for the challenge she had to set, she told her to ask him to make a dress woven from the stars in the sky.

The next morning, accordingly, when the prince came to inquire what her good pleasure was, she asked him to bring her a dress woven of the stars of heaven.

The next morning, when the prince came to ask what she wanted, she requested that he bring her a dress made from the stars in the sky.

The prince bit his lip, and a look of fierceness it had never worn before stole over his face at hearing this request. And though he instantly put on a smile, there was much suppressed anger perceptible in the tone with which he answered,

The prince bit his lip, and a fierce look that he had never shown before crossed his face upon hearing this request. And even though he quickly forced a smile, there was a lot of suppressed anger evident in the tone with which he replied,

‘This is not your own idea. Some one who has no good will towards me has told you this.’

‘This isn’t your own idea. Someone who doesn’t wish me well has told you this.’

‘It was no part of the condition, I think, that I should act without advice, and certainly no part of it that I should say whether I took advice or not,’ replied Maria discreetly; and then her desire to break from the engagement making her bold, she added, ‘But, you know, if you do not like the test, or consider it in any way unfair, I do not press you to accept it. You will meet with no reproach from me if you renounce it.’

‘It wasn’t part of the agreement, I believe, that I should act without guidance, and definitely not that I should disclose whether I sought advice or not,’ Maria replied thoughtfully. Then, feeling empowered by her wish to end the engagement, she added, ‘But, you know, if you don’t like the test or think it’s unfair in any way, I won’t push you to accept it. You won’t face any criticism from me if you choose to walk away from it.’

‘Oh dear no! I have no such wish,’ the prince hastened to reply. ‘The dress woven of the stars of heaven will be here by to-morrow morning, and you have only to be ready by the same time to name what is the second test you propose.’

‘Oh no, not at all!’ the prince quickly responded. ‘The dress made from the stars in the sky will arrive by tomorrow morning, and you just need to be ready by then to tell me what the second test is that you have in mind.’

Maria hastened back to her teacher to recount the [69]story of the morning’s work; to tell of the moment of hope she had had that the prince would renounce the attempt, and then his final acceptance of the undertaking. ‘Dear teacher mine! Cannot you think of something else so very, very difficult I can give him to do to-morrow that he may be obliged to refuse it?’

Maria rushed back to her teacher to share the story of the morning’s work; to talk about the moment of hope she had when she thought the prince might back out, and then his final agreement to take it on. ‘Dear teacher! Can’t you think of something else that’s really, really difficult that I can give him to do tomorrow so he’ll have to refuse it?’

‘To-morrow I would have you ask him for a dress woven of moonbeams,’ replied the teacher; ‘which will be very difficult to supply; but I fear he will yet find the means of accomplishing it.’

‘Tomorrow I want you to ask him for a dress made of moonbeams,’ the teacher replied; ‘which will be very hard to provide; but I worry he will still find a way to make it happen.’

The next morning the dress woven of the stars of heaven was brought in by six pages, and it was all they could do to carry it, for the dazzling of the rays of the stars in their eyes. When the dress of moonbeams was asked for, the prince showed little less impatience than at the first request, but yet undertook to supply it, and reminded Maria that the next day she must be ready with her third test.

The next morning, six pages brought in the dress made from the stars in the sky, and it was all they could do to carry it because of how dazzling the rays of the stars were in their eyes. When they asked for the dress made of moonbeams, the prince showed almost as much impatience as he did with the first request, but he agreed to get it and reminded Maria that she needed to be ready for her third test the next day.

Once more Maria had recourse to her sage teacher’s counsels, and this time was advised to ask for a dress woven of sunbeams.

Once again, Maria turned to her wise teacher for advice, and this time she was told to ask for a dress made of sunlight.

The next day the dress woven of moonbeams was produced, but it required twelve pages to bring it in, for it was so dazzling they could only hold it for ten minutes at a stretch, and they had to carry it in relays, six at a time. When Maria now asked for the dress woven of sunbeams, the prince grew so angry that she was quite frightened, and at the same time entertained for a moment a confident hope that now, at last, he would own himself baffled. Nevertheless, at the end of a few moments’ hesitation, he pronounced his intention of complying, but added in almost a threatening tone, ‘And remember that when it comes to-morrow morning you will not then have any more ridiculous tests to prefer, but will belong to me for ever, and must be prepared to go away with me in the carriage that will be at the door.’ He turned on his [70]heel as he spoke and stalked away, without saying good-bye, or so much as turning to look at her, or he would have seen she had sunk down on the ground in an agony of despair.

The next day, they brought in the dress made of moonbeams, but it took twelve pages to carry it because it was so dazzling that they could only hold it for ten minutes at a time, and they had to pass it around in groups of six. When Maria asked for the dress made of sunbeams, the prince got so angry that she felt scared, yet for a moment, she dared to hope he would finally be stumped. However, after a brief pause, he declared he would comply but added in a nearly threatening way, “And remember, when it arrives tomorrow morning, you won’t have any more silly tests to propose. You will belong to me forever and must be ready to leave with me in the carriage waiting at the door.” He turned on his [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]heel as he spoke and walked away without saying goodbye or even looking back at her; if he had, he would have seen her collapse on the ground in deep despair.

Her father came in and found her thus, and asked her what could possibly put her into such a state on the eve of such a brilliant marriage. Maria threw herself in his arms and told him all her distress, but when it was told it sounded childish and unreasonable.

Her dad walked in and found her like this, asking her what could have her feeling this way on the night before such an amazing wedding. Maria threw herself into his arms and shared all her worries, but when she finished, it sounded immature and irrational.

‘Can anything be more absurd?’ replied the old man. ‘To-morrow I may be dead, and what will become of you? What can you desire more than a husband suited to you in age and person, with every advantage the world can offer? And you would throw all this away for the sake of a foolish fancy you cannot even explain! Dry your tears and do not listen to such fancies any more, and keep your pretty little face in good order for looking as smiling and as pleasing as such a devoted husband deserves you should look on your wedding morning. It is I who have to lament; I who shall be left alone in my old age; but I do not repine, I shall be quite happy for my few remaining days in knowing that you have all the happiness life can afford you;’ and as he spoke he clasped her fondly in his arms.

“Can anything be more ridiculous?” replied the old man. “Tomorrow I might be dead, and what will happen to you? What more could you want than a husband who matches your age and personality, with every advantage the world has to offer? And you would throw all this away for a silly crush you can’t even explain! Wipe your tears and stop listening to such nonsense, and keep your lovely face looking bright and cheerful for your devoted husband on your wedding morning. It’s me who should be sad; I’ll be the one left alone in my old age; but I don’t complain, I’ll be happy for my remaining days knowing that you have all the happiness life can give you,” and as he said this, he held her lovingly in his arms.

Maria, reassured by his words, began to think he was in the right, and she was thus as cheerful as he could wish that last night they were to spend together.

Maria, comforted by his words, started to believe he was right, and she felt as happy as he could want for their last night together.

But when night came and she found the teacher who understood her so well, waiting to put her to bed for the last time, all her own true feelings came back, and, bursting into tears, she entreated her to find some way of delivering her.

But when night fell and she saw the teacher who understood her so well, waiting to tuck her in for the last time, all her true feelings returned, and, bursting into tears, she pleaded with her to find a way to set her free.

‘The time has come,’ replied the teacher, ‘that I should tell you all. The innocence and truthfulness of your heart guided you right in believing that the prince was no husband for you. You did not, and could not, [71]know who he was; but now I must tell you he is the devil himself. Nay; do not shudder and tremble so; it remains entirely with yourself to decide whether you shall be his or not; he can have no sort of power over any against their will.’

‘The time has come,’ replied the teacher, ‘for me to tell you everything. The innocence and honesty of your heart helped you realize that the prince wasn’t the right match for you. You didn’t, and couldn’t, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]know who he really was; but now I must tell you he is the devil himself. Don’t shudder and tremble like that; it’s entirely up to you to decide whether you want to belong to him or not; he has no power over anyone who opposes him.’

‘But, of course, I will have nothing to do with him,’ replied the child, simply. ‘Why don’t you tell papa, and make him send him away?’

‘But, of course, I don’t want anything to do with him,’ the child said plainly. ‘Why don’t you tell Dad and have him send him away?’

‘Because, for one thing, he would not believe me. As I have said, the prince being what he is can have no power over you against your own will. Your breaking from him must be your own act. Further, you must understand the terms of the struggle. Power is given him to deceive, and thus he has deceived your father. I have been set by your mother to watch over you, and I can tell you what he is, but I have no power to undeceive your father. If I were to attempt it it would do no good, he would not believe me, and it would break his heart to see you renounce so promising an union. On the other hand, you must understand that when the devil wooes a maiden in this form he does not suddenly after appear with horns and hoofs and carry her off to brimstone and fire. For the term of your life he will behave with average kindness and affection, and he will abundantly supply you with the good things of this world. After that I need not say what the effect of his power over you will be. On the other hand, if you give him up you must be prepared to undergo many trials and privations. It is not merely going on with your present life such as it has been up till now. Those peaceful days are allowed for youthful strength to mature, but now the time has come that you have to make a life-choice. What do you say? Have you courage to renounce the ease and enjoyment the prince has to offer you and face poverty, with the want and the insults which come in its train?’

‘Because, for one thing, he wouldn’t believe me. As I said, the prince, being who he is, can’t control you against your will. Breaking away from him has to be your own decision. Also, you need to understand the nature of the struggle. He’s been given the power to deceive, and that’s how he fooled your father. Your mother has tasked me with watching over you, and I can tell you what he really is, but I can’t undeceive your father. If I tried, it wouldn’t help; he wouldn’t believe me, and it would crush his heart to see you give up such a promising union. On the flip side, you need to realize that when the devil pursues a woman like this, he doesn’t suddenly show up with horns and hooves to drag her off to hellfire. For the rest of your life, he’ll treat you with average kindness and affection, and he’ll provide you with all the good things this world has to offer. After that, I don’t need to explain what his power over you will mean. Conversely, if you decide to reject him, you must be ready to face many challenges and hardships. It’s not just about continuing your current life as it has been so far. Those peaceful days were given to let your youthful strength grow, but now it’s time for you to make a choice about your life. What do you think? Do you have the courage to give up the comfort and pleasure the prince offers and face poverty, along with the struggles and insults that come with it?’

Poor little Maria looked very serious. She had never [72]felt any great attraction for the prince, it is true, but now the question was placed upon a new issue. She had learnt enough about duty and sacrifice, and she had always intended to do right at all costs, but now that the day of trial had come it seemed so different from what she had expected, she knew not what to say.

Poor little Maria looked very serious. She had never [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]felt any strong attraction to the prince, it's true, but now the question was presented in a new light. She had learned enough about duty and sacrifice, and she always planned to do the right thing no matter what, but now that the day of reckoning had arrived, it felt so different from what she had anticipated, and she didn't know what to say.

‘You are tired to-night, my child; and it is late,’ said the teacher. ‘We will say no more till the morning. I will wake you betimes and you shall tell me your mind then.’

‘You’re tired tonight, my child; and it’s late,’ said the teacher. ‘We won’t say anything more until morning. I’ll wake you up early and you can share your thoughts with me then.’

In the morning Maria’s mind was made up. She had chosen the good part; but how was she to be delivered from the prince?

In the morning, Maria was determined. She had chosen the right path; but how was she going to get away from the prince?

‘This is what you will have to do,’ replied the teacher, after commending her good resolution. ‘I have had made ready for you a wooden figure of an old woman, inside which I will stow away all that you have valuable, for it may be of use some day, but especially I will bestow there the dresses woven of the stars of heaven, of moonbeams, and that of sunbeams, which, I doubt not, the prince will bring you, according to promise, in the morning. When you have driven with him in his carriage all day, towards evening you will find yourself in a thick wood. Say to him you are tired with sitting in the carriage all day, and ask to be allowed to walk a little way in the wood before sundown. I, meantime, will place ready my wooden figure of an old woman, which you will find there, and, watching for a moment when he has his head turned, place yourself inside the figure and walk away. There is another thing which you must do, which is very important. When the ring was lost, you must know it was he who took it, and, though he kept it studiously concealed all the while he was in your father’s palace, he will now carry it boldly slung on the feather in his cap; this you must find means of possessing yourself of during the journey, because it is essential to you that you should have it [73]in your own hands. And fear nothing either, in making your escape, for the ring is your own property, which he has falsely taken; and, in leaving him, remember he can have no power over you against your will. I may not inform you what may befall you in your new character as poor Maria Wood, but be good and courageous; always, as now, choose the right bravely in all questions and doubts, and you shall not go unrewarded.’

‘This is what you need to do,’ the teacher replied, after praising her good decision. ‘I’ve prepared for you a wooden figure of an old woman, inside which I will hide everything valuable you have, as it might be useful one day. Most importantly, I will place the dresses made from the stars in the sky, moonbeams, and sunlight there, which I’m sure the prince will bring you as promised in the morning. After you’ve spent the day riding in his carriage, you’ll find yourself in a dense forest by evening. Tell him you’re tired from sitting all day and ask if you can walk a bit in the woods before it gets dark. Meanwhile, I’ll have the wooden figure of the old woman ready for you in the woods, and when he looks away, you should get inside the figure and walk away. There’s one more important thing you need to do. When the ring went missing, you should know he took it, and although he kept it hidden while he was in your father’s palace, he will now be wearing it prominently on the feather in his cap. You need to find a way to get it during your journey because it’s crucial for you to have it in your possession. Don't worry about escaping because the ring is rightfully yours, and he has wrongfully taken it. Remember, he has no power over you against your will. I can’t tell you what might happen as you take on the new identity of poor Maria Wood, but be good and brave; always choose the right path fearlessly in any doubts you face, and you will be rewarded.’

There was little time for leave-taking between the good teacher and her affectionate pupil, for the prince almost immediately after came to claim his bride, and all the neighbours and friends came, too, to the festivities. The dress woven of sunbeams was brought by four-and-twenty pages, for it was so dazzling they could not hold it for more than five minutes at a time, and they had to carry it by relays.

There was hardly any time for goodbyes between the kind teacher and her loving student, because the prince quickly arrived to claim his bride, and all their neighbors and friends joined in the celebrations. The dress made of sunlight was brought by twenty-four pages, as it was so bright that they couldn't hold it for more than five minutes at a time, requiring them to carry it in shifts.

At last leave-takings and festivities were over, and, amid the good-wishes and blessings of all, Maria drove away in the prince’s carriage. On they drove all day, and towards the end of it, as it was getting dark, Maria contrived to twitch the ring from the prince’s cap without his being aware of it; presently after she exclaimed, ‘Oh dear! how cramped I feel from sitting all day in this carriage; cannot I walk a little way in this wood before it gets dark?’

At last, the goodbyes and celebrations were over, and with everyone's well-wishes and blessings, Maria drove away in the prince’s carriage. They traveled all day, and as it started to get dark, Maria managed to sneak the ring off the prince’s cap without him noticing. Soon after, she exclaimed, “Oh no! I feel so cramped from sitting in this carriage all day; can’t I walk a bit in this woods before it gets dark?”

‘Most certainly you can, if you wish,’ replied the prince, who, having everything his own way, was in a very accommodating humour.

‘Of course you can, if you want,’ replied the prince, who, getting everything he desired, was in a really accommodating mood.

When they had walked a little way down the forest-path, Maria espied the wooden form she was to assume, placed ready under a tree.

When they had walked a little way down the forest path, Maria spotted the wooden figure she was supposed to take on, positioned under a tree.

‘That old woman will have a longish way to go to get a night’s shelter, I fancy,’ exclaimed the prince, with a laugh which made Maria shudder, both from its heartlessness and also because it reminded her that she would soon find herself alone, far from shelter, in that dark wood. [74]But was it not better to be alone in the dark than in such company as that she was about to leave, she said to herself. Then she turned once more to look at it. The figure looked so natural she could not forbear saying mechanically, ‘Poor old woman! give me a little coin to bestow on her that she may wish us Godspeed on our night-journey.’

"That old woman has quite a long way to go for a place to stay the night, I guess," the prince laughed, and his laugh made Maria shudder, not just because it was so cold-hearted, but also because it reminded her that soon she would be alone, far from any shelter in that dark forest. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] But wasn't it better to be alone in the dark than to be with the company she was about to leave? she thought. Then she turned back to look at it. The figure looked so real that she couldn't help but say automatically, "Poor old woman! Let me have a little coin to give her so she can wish us well on our night journey."

‘Nonsense!’ replied the prince. ‘Never let me hear you talk such idle stuff. And, come, it is time to go back into the carriage; it is getting quite dark.’

‘Nonsense!’ said the prince. ‘Don’t let me hear you say such silly things. Now, it’s time to get back in the carriage; it’s getting pretty dark.’

‘Oh! what a beautiful firefly!’ exclaimed Maria, reminded by the speech to hasten her separation from her uncongenial companion, ‘Oh, do catch it for me!’

‘Oh! what a beautiful firefly!’ exclaimed Maria, prompted by the conversation to hurry her goodbye to her incompatible companion, ‘Oh, please catch it for me!’

The prince lifted his cap, and ran a few steps after the insect. ‘Oh, I see another, and I shall catch it before you catch yours—you’ll see!’ So saying, she darted towards the tree where the wooden figure stood ready, and placing herself inside, walked slowly and freely along, counterfeiting the gait of an aged and weary woman.

The prince took off his hat and ran a few steps after the bug. "Oh, I see another one, and I'm going to catch it before you catch yours—you'll see!" With that, she dashed toward the tree where the wooden figure was waiting, climbed inside, and walked slowly and freely, pretending to move like an old, tired woman.

The prince had soon caught the firefly and was bringing it back in triumph, when, to his dismay, Maria was nowhere to be seen. He ran this way and that, called and shouted in vain. The servants with the carriage were too far off to have seen anything; there was no witness to appeal to but the old woman.

The prince quickly caught the firefly and was bringing it back in triumph when, to his shock, Maria was nowhere in sight. He ran around, calling and shouting without success. The servants with the carriage were too far away to have noticed anything; the only person he could turn to was the old woman.

‘Which way did the young lady run who was walking with me just now?’ he eagerly inquired.

“Which way did the young lady go who was walking with me just now?” he asked eagerly.

‘Down that path there to the right, as fast as the firefly itself could fly, and if she comes back as quickly as she went she will be back presently,’ replied Maria Wood, feigning the voice of an old woman.

‘Down that path to the right, as fast as a firefly can fly, and if she comes back as quickly as she left, she’ll be back soon,’ replied Maria Wood, pretending to sound like an old woman.

The prince ran in the direction indicated, and was soon himself lost in the mazes of the forest, where he wandered hopelessly all night; and only when the morning light came was he able to make his way back to his carriage, and drive home ashamed and crestfallen, giving up [75]his conquest in despair, and vowing useless vengeance against the fairy godmother, whose intervention he now recognised it was had baffled him.

The prince ran in the direction he was told, and soon found himself lost in the twists of the forest, wandering aimlessly all night. Only when morning light broke was he able to return to his carriage and drive home feeling embarrassed and defeated, giving up [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]his quest in despair, and swearing pointless revenge against the fairy godmother, whose help he now realized had thwarted him.

Maria meantime walked steadily and fearlessly along, guided by the stars which peeped here and there through the tall trees. Nor was shelter so far off as the prince had said. Before very long a party of charcoal-burners hailed her, and offered a share of such poor hospitality as they could command. It was very different from the comforts of her father’s house; but Maria took it as the first instalment of the hardships she had accepted.

Maria walked steadily and fearlessly along, guided by the stars that peeked through the tall trees. The shelter wasn’t as far away as the prince had claimed. Soon, a group of charcoal burners called out to her and offered a share of the meager hospitality they could provide. It was nothing like the comforts of her father's home, but Maria accepted it as the first installment of the hardships she had chosen to take on.

Maria’s wooden form was very skilfully made; the limbs had supple joints, which could be moved by the person inside just like those of a living being; and the clothes the teacher had provided being just like those of the country people about, no one entertained the least suspicion that Maria Wood, as she had now become, was anything different from themselves.

Maria’s wooden body was crafted with great skill; the limbs had flexible joints, which could be moved by the person inside just like those of a real person; and the clothes the teacher had provided were just like those of the local villagers, so no one had the slightest suspicion that Maria Wood, as she was now called, was anything but one of them.

The charcoal-burners were kind, simple people, and, finding Maria willing to assist them in their labours to the extent of her powers, proposed to her to stay and cast in her lot with them as long as the season for their work lasted; and she did their hard work and shared their poor fare with never a word of complaint.

The charcoal-burners were friendly, down-to-earth people, and when they saw that Maria was eager to help with their work as much as she could, they asked her to stay and join them for the duration of their season. She did their tough tasks and shared their meager meals without a single complaint.

At last, one day, when she was on I know not what errand, at some distance from the encampment, the young king of the country, who had lately been called to the throne, came through the forest hunting, with a large retinue of followers. Crash, crash, like thunder, went the brushwood as the wild boar trampled it down, and the eager dogs bounded after him with lightning speed. They passed close to Maria, who was as much alarmed as if she had really been the old woman she seemed to be: but when she saw the riders bearing down upon her, their horses’ hoofs tearing up the soil, and the branches everywhere [76]giving way before their impetuosity, her heart failed her entirely, and she swooned away upon the grass. The king, however, was the only one whose course passed over the spot where she was, and he only perceived her in time to rein up his mount just before it might have trampled on her.

At last, one day, when she was on some errand far from the camp, the young king of the land, who had recently taken the throne, came through the forest hunting with a large group of followers. Crash, crash, like thunder, went the underbrush as the wild boar trampled it down, and the eager dogs chased after him at lightning speed. They passed close to Maria, who was just as scared as if she had really been the old woman she appeared to be: but when she saw the riders charging toward her, their horses’ hooves tearing up the ground, and the branches all around [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]giving way before their rush, her heart completely failed her, and she fainted on the grass. The king, however, was the only one whose path went over the spot where she lay, and he only noticed her in time to pull up his horse just before it would have trampled her.

‘See here to this old body, whom we have nearly frightened to death,’ he cried; and the huntsmen came and lifted her up.

‘Look at this old body, we’ve almost scared her to death,’ he shouted; and the hunters came and picked her up.

‘Some of you carry her home to the palace, that she may be attended to,’ said the king further; and they carried her home to the palace, and laid her on a bed, and restored her senses.

‘Some of you take her back to the palace so she can get proper care,’ the king continued; and they took her back to the palace, laid her on a bed, and brought her back to her senses.

When the king came home from the hunt, he would go himself to see how it had fared with her; and when he found her almost restored he asked her whither she would wish to be sent.

When the king returned from the hunt, he would personally check on her condition; and when he saw that she was almost better, he asked her where she would like to be sent.

‘Little it matters to me where I go,’ replied Maria Wood, in the saddened voice of grief-stricken age; ‘for home and kindred have I none. Little it matters where I lay my weary bones to rest.’

‘It doesn’t matter to me where I go,’ replied Maria Wood, in the sorrowful tone of someone weighed down by grief; ‘for I have no home or family. It doesn’t matter where I lay my tired bones to rest.’

When the king heard her speak thus he compassionated her, and inquired if there was any service in the household that could be offered her.

When the king heard her talk like that, he felt sorry for her and asked if there was any task in the household that could be given to her.

‘Please your Majesty, there is not much strength in her for work,’ replied the steward; ‘but, if such is your royal will, she can be set to help the scullions in the kitchen.’

‘Please your Majesty, she doesn't have much strength for work,’ replied the steward; ‘but, if that's your royal wish, she can be assigned to help the cooks in the kitchen.’

‘Will that suit you, old dame?’ inquired the king. ‘They shall not ask too much of you, and a good table and warm shelter shall never be wanting.’

‘Will that work for you, old lady?’ the king asked. ‘They won’t ask too much of you, and there will always be a good meal and warm shelter available.’

‘All thanks to your Majesty’s bounty. My heart could desire nothing more than to live thus under the shadow of your Majesty,’ replied Maria, making a humble obeisance.

‘All thanks to your Majesty’s generosity. My heart couldn't ask for anything more than to live like this under your Majesty’s protection,’ replied Maria, making a humble bow.

And thus Maria, from a princess, became a servant of servants. [77]

And so Maria, once a princess, became a servant among servants. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘What’s the use of giving us such a cranky old piece as that for a help?’ said the scullion to the turnspit, as Maria was introduced to her new quarters.

‘What’s the point of giving us such a grumpy old thing like that for help?’ said the scullion to the turnspit, as Maria was shown to her new room.

‘Why, as to that, as she has taken the service she must do it, cranky or not cranky,’ answered the turnspit.

‘Well, since she took the job, she has to do it, whether she's in a good mood or not,’ answered the turnspit.

‘Aye, I dare say we shall be able to get it out of her one way or another,’ replied the scullion.

‘Yeah, I think we’ll be able to get it out of her one way or another,’ replied the scullion.

And they did get it out of her; and Maria had more put upon her, and less of kind words and scarcely better food than with the charcoal-burners. But she took it all in silence and patience, and no complaint passed her lips. She had no fixed duties, but one called her here and another there; she was at everyone’s bidding, but she did her best to content them all.

And they did get it out of her; and Maria had more put on her, and less kind words and hardly better food than with the charcoal-burners. But she took it all in silence and patience, and no complaint escaped her lips. She had no set tasks, but one person called her here and another there; she was at everyone’s beck and call, but she did her best to please them all.

Then came the Carneval; and on the last three days every servant had license to don a domino and dance at the king’s ball. What an opportunity for Maria Wood! After serving in her unbecoming disguise with so much endurance and perseverance for now a full year, here was one day on which she might wear a becoming dress, and enjoy herself according to the measure of her age and sex, and due position in the world.

Then came the Carnival, and for the last three days, every servant had permission to wear a mask and dance at the king’s ball. What an opportunity for Maria Wood! After spending a whole year in her unfitting disguise with so much patience and determination, here was one day when she could wear a nice dress and enjoy herself like any girl her age would, in line with her social standing.

All the household, all royal as it was, was in a hubbub of confusion. No one was at work—no one at his post; and there was no one to notice that Maria Wood was absent, like the rest.

All the household, as royal as it was, was in a chaotic mess. No one was working—no one was at their post; and no one noticed that Maria Wood was missing, just like everyone else.

Locking herself into the loft which served her for a sleeping-place, Maria not only came out of her wooden disguise, but took out of it the garment woven of the stars of heaven—a most convenient dress for the occasion. At a masqued ball no one can recognise anybody else, except by a guess suggested by familiar characteristics which the domino fails to disguise. But no one at the king’s court was familiar with the characteristics of Maria Wood; and wherever she passed the whole company was in an excitement to know whose was the elegant figure shrouded [78]in such a marvellous costume. But there was so much majesty in her air, that no one durst ask her to dance or so much as approach her.

Locking herself in the loft that served as her sleeping space, Maria not only shed her wooden disguise but also pulled out a dress made of stars—a perfect outfit for the occasion. At a masked ball, nobody can really recognize anyone else, except by guessing based on familiar traits that the costume fails to hide. But no one at the king’s court was familiar with Maria Wood's traits, and wherever she went, the crowd buzzed with curiosity about the identity of the elegant figure cloaked in such a stunning costume. Yet, there was such an air of majesty about her that no one dared ask her to dance or even approach her.

Only the king himself felt conscious of the right to offer to lead her to the dance; and she, who had not forgotten how handsome he was, and how kind he had been on the night that his huntsmen had nearly frightened her to death in the forest, right willingly accepted the favour. But even he was so awed by her grace and dignity, that, charmed as he was with her conversation, and burning to know her style and title, he yet could not frame the question that would ascertain whence she had come.

Only the king himself felt entitled to ask her to dance; and she, who still remembered how handsome he was and how kind he had been on the night when his hunters had almost scared her to death in the forest, gladly accepted his invitation. But even he was so impressed by her grace and dignity that, despite being enchanted by her conversation and eager to know her name and status, he couldn’t bring himself to ask where she had come from.

Very early in the evening, while the other masquers reckoned the amusement was only beginning, Maria, with characteristic moderation, chose an opportunity for withdrawing unperceived from the ballroom.

Very early in the evening, while the other partygoers thought the fun was just starting, Maria, being typically reserved, found a moment to sneak away unnoticed from the ballroom.

It will readily be imagined that the next night every one was full of curiosity, and the king most of all, to know whether the lady in the starry dress would appear again; and the more that, though everybody had been talking of her to the exclusion of everyone else the whole intervening day through, no one could offer a satisfactory conjecture as to who she could possibly be.

It was easy to imagine that the next night everyone was filled with curiosity, especially the king, wanting to know if the lady in the starry dress would show up again. Even though everyone had spent the entire day talking about her, no one could come up with a convincing guess about who she might be.

While all eyes were full of expectation, accordingly, the second evening, suddenly and unannounced there appeared in their midst a form, graceful and mobile like hers they had so much admired, but draped in a still more dazzling dress (for Maria this night wore her garment woven of moonbeams); and it was only the king who had the certainty that it was really the same person.

While everyone was filled with anticipation, on the second evening, out of the blue, a figure appeared among them, graceful and agile like the one they had admired so much, but dressed in an even more stunning outfit (because Maria that night wore her dress made of moonlight); and only the king was sure that it was truly the same person.

‘Why did you take away all the light of our ball so early last night?’ inquired the king, as they were dancing together.

‘Why did you take away all the light from our party so early last night?’ asked the king, as they were dancing together.

‘I have to be up early, and so I must go to bed early,’ replied Maria.

‘I have to wake up early, so I need to go to bed early,’ replied Maria.

‘And what can a sylph-like creature like you have to [79]get up early in the morning for? You are only fit to lie on a bed of roses, with nightingales to sing to you,’ pursued the king.

‘And what could a delicate creature like you have to [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]get up early in the morning for? You’re meant to just lie on a bed of roses, with nightingales singing to you,’ the king continued.

‘My occupations are very different, I can assure your Majesty,’ said Maria, with a hearty laugh.

‘My jobs are quite varied, I can assure you, Your Majesty,’ said Maria, with a hearty laugh.

‘What can those occupations possibly be?’ inquired the king eagerly; ‘I am dying to know.’

‘What could those jobs possibly be?’ the king asked eagerly; ‘I can’t wait to find out.’

‘Oh, fie! You must not ask a domino such a direct question as that; it is as bad as asking her name, and that is against all rules. But see, the dancers await your Majesty; we are putting them all out.’

‘Oh, come on! You shouldn’t ask a domino such a direct question; it’s just as rude as asking for her name, and that’s against all the rules. But look, the dancers are waiting for you, Your Majesty; we’re making them all wait.’

Thus she put him off, and she fenced so well that he succeeded no better in searching out the mystery in all his subsequent attempts. Though he had determined, too, never to leave her side all the evening, that he might certainly observe which way she went, she was so alert that she defeated his plans. Kings have a certain etiquette to observe, even at a Carneval ball; and while social exigencies demanded that he should bestow a salute on one and another of the distinguished personages present, Maria contrived to gather her shining raiment round her so as to invert its dazzling folds, and glide away unperceived.

So she managed to avoid him, and she was so clever about it that he didn't do any better in figuring out the mystery in all his later attempts. Even though he resolved to stay by her side all evening so he could see where she went, she was so quick that she foiled his plans. Kings have certain etiquette to follow, even at a carnival ball; and while social demands required him to greet various important guests present, Maria cleverly wrapped her stunning dress around her to conceal its dazzling layers and slipped away unnoticed.

The king was beside himself with vexation when he found she was gone; nor could he sleep all the succeeding night, or rather those hours which must be stolen out of the day to make a night of when the real night has been spent in revels. One thought occupied him, which was that the succeeding night was the last in which he could expect to have the chance of obtaining an explanation from his fair partner of the dance. The next day began the gloom of Lent, and she would disappear from his sight forever. He arranged in his head a dozen forms of conversation by which to entrap her into some admission by which he could find out who she could possibly be; he determined to be more vigilant than ever in observing her movements; and, to provide against every possible chance of failure, he [80]stationed guards at every exit of the ballroom, with strict orders to follow her when she passed.

The king was overwhelmed with frustration when he discovered she was gone; he couldn't sleep all through the following night, or rather, those hours he had to steal from the day to create a night after spending the real night in festivities. One thought consumed him: the next night was the last chance he had to get an explanation from his beautiful dance partner. The next day marked the beginning of the somber season of Lent, and she would vanish from his view forever. He mentally prepared a dozen ways to engage her in conversation to get her to admit who she might be; he decided to be more watchful than ever of her movements. To cover all bases and prevent any possible failure, he [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] stationed guards at every exit of the ballroom, giving them strict orders to follow her if she left.

In the midst of the ball on the third night Maria entered more radiant than ever, having on her dress woven of sunbeams. The masquers put their hands up to shade their eyes as she passed, and the chandeliers and torches were paled by its brilliance. The king was at her side immediately, but though he put in requisition all the devices he had prepared, Maria succeeded in evading them all, and the evening passed away without his being a bit wiser about how to see more of her than he had been at the beginning. The only thing that gave him a little hope that she did not mean absolutely to abandon him, was that in the course of the evening she took out a ring, which she told him had never fitted anyone yet, and begged him, as a matter of curiosity, to try it on his hand; and then when it strangely happened that it fitted him perfectly, she could not altogether conceal the pleasure it seemed to give her. Nevertheless, she put up the ring again, and would give no further explanation about it any more than about herself.

In the middle of the ball on the third night, Maria entered more radiant than ever, wearing a dress made of sunbeams. The masked guests raised their hands to shield their eyes as she walked by, and the chandeliers and torches seemed dim in comparison to her brilliance. The king was by her side immediately, but despite all his tricks, Maria managed to evade him completely, and the night went by without him learning any more about how to see her than he had at the start. The only thing that gave him a glimmer of hope that she didn’t intend to completely reject him was when she took out a ring, which she said had never fit anyone before, and asked him, out of curiosity, to try it on. When it surprisingly fit him perfectly, she couldn’t hide the happiness it seemed to bring her. However, she put the ring away again and didn't offer any more explanation about it or about herself.

By-and-by, choosing her moment as dexterously as before, she made her escape without exciting the king’s attention. The guards, however, were all expectation, and notwithstanding that she had taken the precaution of turning the sunbeams inwards, they recognised her, and followed softly after her as they had been bidden. Maria, however, did not fail to perceive they were following her, and, to divert their attention, took off a string of precious pearls she wore round her throat, and, unthreading them on the ground, escaped swiftly to her loft while the guards were occupied in gathering up the treasure.

Eventually, picking her moment just as skillfully as before, she slipped away without grabbing the king’s attention. The guards, though, were on high alert, and even though she had taken the precaution of redirecting the sunlight, they recognized her and quietly trailed behind her as instructed. Maria, however, noticed they were following her, and to distract them, she removed a necklace of precious pearls from around her neck and scattered them on the ground. This allowed her to make a quick getaway to her loft while the guards were busy collecting the scattered treasure.

The king was disconsolate beyond measure when he found that all his schemes were foiled, and that his radiant maiden had passed away like the rays in which she was clothed, leaving only darkness and weariness for him. [81]So disconsolate he grew that nothing could distract him. He would no more occupy himself with the affairs of the state, still less with any minor occupations. He could not bear the light of the sun because its beams reminded him of his loss, and he dreaded similarly the sight of the moon or the stars, but, shut up in a dark room almost hopeless, he wept the weary days away.

The king was heartbroken beyond words when he realized that all his plans had been ruined and that his beautiful maiden had disappeared like the sunlight she was wrapped in, leaving him with only darkness and exhaustion. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]He became so despondent that nothing could take his mind off it. He stopped engaging in state matters and even the simplest tasks. He couldn't stand the sunlight because its rays reminded him of his loss, and he also feared seeing the moon or stars. Instead, he sat in a dark room, almost without hope, and cried away the weary days.

So remarkable a change in the habits of the young king became the subject of general comment, and could not fail to reach the ears of even so insignificant a menial as Maria. She, indeed, had every reason to hear of it, for scarcely could the afflicted king be induced to take the simplest food, and the attendants of the kitchen were reduced to complete inactivity. Maria was no longer called hither and thither at everyone’s pleasure, and as long as this inactivity lasted she knew the king was still of the same mind about herself. But at last the talk of the kitchen took a more alarming character; it was reported that physicians had been called in, and had pronounced that unless means were found to distract him his state of despondency would prove fatal, but that nothing which had been tried had the least effect in rousing him from his melancholy.

Such a notable change in the young king's behavior became a hot topic of discussion and undoubtedly reached even the ears of a lowly servant like Maria. She had every reason to hear about it, since the troubled king could barely be persuaded to eat anything, and the kitchen staff were left with nothing to do. Maria was no longer summoned here and there at everyone's whim, and as long as this lull continued, she understood that the king still felt the same way about her. However, the chatter in the kitchen soon took a more serious turn; it was reported that doctors had been called in and stated that unless something was done to distract him, his deep sadness could be fatal, and that nothing attempted had managed to lift his spirits from their gloom.

Meantime Lent was passing away and Easter was close at hand. Maria thought she might now be satisfied with his constancy, and determined to take the step which she had good reason to believe would restore all his vigour.

Meantime, Lent was winding down, and Easter was approaching. Maria thought she could finally trust his loyalty and decided to take the step she believed would bring back all his energy.

Accordingly, while the cooks and scullions were all dispersed about one thing and another, she went into the kitchen and made a cake, into which she put the ring, and took it up herself to the queen-mother. It was not very easy for such a haggard old woman to obtain admission to the private apartments, but when she declared she had come about a remedy for the king, she was made [82]welcome. Having thus obtained the ear of the queen-mother, she assured her, with many protestations, that if the king could he made to eat the whole of the cake, without giving the least piece of it to anyone, he would be immediately cured. But that if he gave away the least piece the virtue might be lost. This was lest he should thus give away the ring to anyone. The ladies waiting on the queen laughed at the old woman’s pretensions, and would have driven her away with contumely, but the queen said: ‘Nay, who knows but there may be healing in it. Experience often teaches the old remedies which science has failed to discover.’

So, while the cooks and helpers were busy with various tasks, she went into the kitchen and baked a cake, putting the ring inside it, and took it herself to the queen mother. It wasn’t easy for such a worn-out old woman to get into the private rooms, but when she said she was there about a cure for the king, she was welcomed. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] Having gained the attention of the queen mother, she insisted, with many vows, that if the king ate the whole cake without giving away even a tiny piece, he would be cured right away. But if he shared even a little bit, the magic could be lost. This was to prevent him from giving away the ring to anyone. The ladies attending the queen laughed at the old woman’s claims and would have sent her away with scorn, but the queen said, “No, who knows, there might be something healing in it. Experience often reveals old remedies that science has overlooked.”

Then she dismissed Maria with a present, and took the cake in to the king, trying to amuse him with the old woman’s story; but the king refused to be amused, and let the cake be. Only as he took no notice of what food he ate, and they gave him this cake for all his meals, he took it as he would have taken anything else that had been set before him. When he cut it, his knife struck against something hard, and when he had pulled this out, he found it was the very ring his sylphlike partner had given him the night she wore the dress woven of sunbeams.

Then she sent Maria away with a gift and took the cake to the king, trying to entertain him with the old woman's story; but the king wasn’t interested and ignored the cake. Since he didn’t pay attention to what food he ate and they served him this cake for every meal, he took it just like anything else that was put in front of him. When he cut into it, his knife hit something hard, and when he pulled it out, he found it was the very ring his graceful partner had given him the night she wore the dress made of sunbeams.

At the sight he started like one waking from a trance.

At the sight, he jumped like someone waking from a trance.

‘How came this ring here?’ he exclaimed; and the queen-mother, who had stood by to see the effect of the remedy, replied,

‘How did this ring get here?’ he exclaimed; and the queen-mother, who had been watching to see the effect of the remedy, replied,

‘A certain old woman, whom you befriended in the forest and told the servants to shelter in the palace, brought me the cake, saying it would prove a remedy for your melancholy, which she had prepared out of gratitude.’

‘An old woman you befriended in the forest and asked the servants to take in at the palace brought me the cake, saying it would be a cure for your sadness, which she made out of gratitude.’

‘Let her be called instantly hither,’ then said the king; and they went to fetch Maria Wood; but Maria could nowhere be found.

‘Have her come here right away,’ said the king; and they went to get Maria Wood; but Maria was nowhere to be found.

The king was at this announcement very nearly relapsing [83]into his former condition; but the idea came to his mind to find something out by means of the ring itself. Therefore he summoned together all the goldsmiths, and refiners, and alchemists of his kingdom, and bid them tell him the history of the ring.

The king was almost slipping back into his old state at this announcement; but then he got the idea to discover something through the ring itself. So, he gathered all the goldsmiths, refiners, and alchemists in his kingdom and ordered them to tell him the story of the ring.

At the end of seven days’ trial the oldest of the alchemists brought it back to the king and said:

At the end of a seven-day trial, the oldest alchemist returned to the king and said:

‘We find, O King, that this ring is made of gold which comes from afar. Moreover, that the workmanship is such as is only produced in the kingdoms of the West, and the characters on it pronounce that its owner is a princess of high degree, whose dominions exceed greatly those of the King’s Majesty in magnitude.’

‘We see, O King, that this ring is made of gold that comes from distant lands. Furthermore, the craftsmanship is only found in the kingdoms of the West, and the inscriptions on it reveal that its owner is a princess of high status, whose territories are much larger than those of your Majesty.’

The king now ordered a more urgent search to be made for Maria Wood, as the only clue by which to reach the fair owner of the ring; and Maria, having heard by report of the alchemists’ announcement, thought it was time to let herself be known. Habiting herself, therefore, in becoming attire, with jewels befitting her rank, with all of which the fairy had amply provided her, she entered for the last time her wooden covering, and went up to the king in answer to his summons.

The king now commanded a more urgent search for Maria Wood, as she was the only clue to find the fair owner of the ring. Maria, having heard about the alchemists’ announcement, thought it was time to reveal herself. So, she dressed in suitable attire, wearing jewels appropriate for her status, all of which the fairy had generously provided her. She entered her wooden shelter one last time and went to the king in response to his summons.

‘Come hither, good woman,’ said the king encouragingly; ‘you have indeed done me good service in sending me this ring, and have repaid a hundredfold the little favour I bestowed on you in taking you into the palace. If, now, you will further bring me hither her to whom this ring belongs, or take me where I may find her, you shall not only live in the palace, but shall live there in royal state and luxury, and whatsoever more you may desire.’

‘Come here, good woman,’ said the king encouragingly; ‘you’ve truly done me a great service by sending me this ring, and you’ve repaid a hundred times over the small favor I gave you by bringing you into the palace. If you can now bring me the woman to whom this ring belongs, or take me to where I can find her, you won’t just live in the palace, but you’ll live there in royal comfort and luxury, along with whatever else you may desire.’

At these words Maria stepped out of her wooden case, and stood before the king in all her youthful beauty, telling him all her story.

At these words, Maria stepped out of her wooden case and stood before the king in all her youthful beauty, sharing her entire story with him.

The proofs that supported it were sufficient to silence every doubt; and when the people were called together to celebrate her marriage with the king, the whole nation [84]hailed her accession as their queen with the greatest delight.

The evidence that backed it was enough to silence all doubts; and when the people gathered to celebrate her marriage to the king, the entire nation [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]welcomed her rise as their queen with immense joy.

Soon after, the royal pair went to visit Maria’s father, who had the joy of knowing that his child was really well established in life. They stayed with him till he died; and then his dominions were added to those of the king, Maria’s husband. Maria did not forget to inquire for her good mistress, but she had long ago gone back to Fairyland.

Soon after, the royal couple visited Maria’s father, who was happy to see that his daughter was doing really well in life. They stayed with him until he passed away, and then his lands were added to those of the king, Maria’s husband. Maria didn’t forget to ask about her good mistress, but she had long since returned to Fairyland.

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

SECOND VERSION.

Another version of this, differing in many details, was given me in the following form. The former was from Loreto; this, from Rome itself.

Another version of this, which varies in many details, was shared with me in the following way. The first one was from Loreto; this one is from Rome itself.

They say, there was a king, whose wife, when she came to die, said to him,

They say there was a king whose wife, as she was dying, said to him,

‘When I am dead, you will want to marry again; but take my advice: marry no woman but her whose foot my shoe fits.’

‘When I’m gone, you’ll want to get married again; but take my advice: only marry the woman whose foot fits my shoe.’

But this she said because the shoe was under a spell, and would fit no one whom he could marry.

But she said this because the shoe was cursed and wouldn’t fit anyone he could marry.

The king, however, caused the shoe to be tried on all manner of women; and when the answer always was that it would fit none of them, he grew quite bewildered and strange in his mind.

The king, however, had the shoe tried on all kinds of women; and when the answer was always that it didn't fit any of them, he became totally confused and odd in his thoughts.

After some years had passed, his young daughter, having grown up to girl’s estate, came to him one day, saying,

After a few years, his young daughter, now a teenager, came to him one day, saying,

‘Oh, papa; only think! Mamma’s shoe just fits me!’

‘Oh, Dad; can you believe it? Mom’s shoe fits me perfectly!’

‘Does it!’ replied the simple king; ‘then I must marry you.’

‘Does it!’ replied the straightforward king; ‘then I have to marry you.’

‘Oh, that cannot be, papa,’ said the girl, and ran away.

‘Oh, that can't be, Dad,’ said the girl, and ran away.

But the simple king was so possessed with the idea that he must marry the woman whom his wife’s shoe fitted, that he sent for her every day and said the same thing. [85]But the queen had not said that he should marry the woman whom her shoe fitted, but that he should not marry any whom it did not fit.

But the simple king was so fixated on the idea that he had to marry the woman whose foot fit his wife's shoe that he called for her every day and repeated the same thing. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]But the queen hadn’t actually said he should marry the woman whose shoe fit; she only said he shouldn’t marry anyone else.

When the princess found that he persevered in his silly caprice, she said at last,

When the princess realized he was still holding on to his silly whim, she finally said,

‘Papa, if I am to do what you say, you must do something for me first.’

‘Dad, if I’m going to do what you’re saying, you need to do something for me first.’

‘Agreed, my child,’ replied the king; ‘you have only to speak.’

‘Agreed, my child,’ replied the king; ‘you just have to say it.’

‘Then, before I marry,’ said the girl, ‘I want a lot of things, but I will begin with one at a time. First, I want a dress of the colour of a beautiful noontide sky, but all covered with stars, like the sky at midnight, and furnished with a parure to suit it.’3

‘Then, before I get married,’ said the girl, ‘I want a lot of things, but I’ll focus on one at a time. First, I want a dress the color of a beautiful midday sky, but covered in stars, like the sky at midnight, and it should come with matching jewelry.’3

Such a dress the king had made and brought to her.

Such a dress the king had made and brought to her.

‘Next,’ said the princess, ‘I want a dress of the colour of the sea, all covered with golden fishes, with a fitting parure.’

‘Next,’ said the princess, ‘I want a dress the color of the sea, entirely covered with golden fish, along with matching accessories.’

Such a dress the king had made, and brought to her.

Such a dress the king had made and brought to her.

‘Next,’ said the princess, ‘I want a dress of a dark blue, all covered with gold embroidery and spangled with silver bells, and with a parure to match.’

‘Next,’ said the princess, ‘I want a dark blue dress, completely covered with gold embroidery and decorated with silver bells, along with matching accessories.’

Such a dress the king had made and brought to her.

Such a dress the king had made and brought to her.

‘These are all very good,’ said the princess; ‘but now you must send for the most cunning artificer in your whole kingdom, and let him make me a figure of an old woman4 just like life, fitted with all sorts of springs to make it move and walk when one gets inside it, just like a real woman.’

‘These are all really nice,’ said the princess; ‘but now you need to call for the most skilled craftsman in your entire kingdom, and have him create a figure of an old woman4 that looks lifelike, equipped with all kinds of springs to make it move and walk when someone steps inside, just like a real woman.’

Such a figure the king had made, and brought it to the princess.

Such a figure the king had created and brought it to the princess.

‘That is just the sort of figure I wanted,’ said she; ‘and now I don’t want anything more.’

‘That’s exactly the figure I was looking for,’ she said; ‘and now I don’t need anything else.’

And the simple king went away quite happy.

And the simple king walked away feeling really happy.

As soon as she was alone, however, the princess packed all the three dresses and many of her other [86]dresses, and all her jewellery and a large sum of money, inside the figure of the old woman, and then she got into it and walked away. No one seeing an old woman walking out of the palace thought she had anything to do with the princess, and thus she got far away without anyone thinking of stopping her.

As soon as she was alone, the princess packed all three dresses and many of her other [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]dresses, along with all her jewelry and a large amount of money, inside the old woman's figure. Then she climbed in and walked away. No one seeing an old woman leaving the palace thought she had anything to do with the princess, so she was able to get far away without anyone trying to stop her.

On, on, on, she wandered till she came to the palace of a great king, and just at the time that the king’s son was coming in from hunting.

On, on, on, she wandered until she reached the palace of a great king, and just as she arrived, the king’s son was coming back from hunting.

‘Have you a place in all this fine palace to take in a poor old body?’ whined the princess inside the figure of the old woman.

‘Do you have a spot in this beautiful palace for a poor old lady?’ whined the princess inside the guise of the old woman.

‘No, no! get out of the way! How dare you come in the way of the prince!’ said the servants, and drove her away.

‘No, no! Move aside! How dare you block the prince’s path!’ the servants exclaimed, pushing her away.

But the prince took compassion on her, and called her to him.

But the prince felt sorry for her and called her over.

‘What’s your name, good woman?’ said the prince.

‘What’s your name, ma’am?’ said the prince.

‘Maria Wood is my name, your Highness,’ replied the princess.

‘Maria Wood is my name, Your Highness,’ replied the princess.

‘And what can you do, since you ask for a place?’

‘And what can you do, since you’re asking for a place?’

‘Oh, I can do many things. First, I understand all about poultry, and then——’

‘Oh, I can do a lot of things. First, I know everything about poultry, and then——’

‘That’ll do,’ replied the prince; ‘take her, and let her be the henwife,5 and let her have food and lodging, and all she wants.’

‘That’s enough,’ replied the prince; ‘take her, and let her be the henwife, 5 and make sure she has food and a place to stay, along with everything she needs.’

So they gave her a little hut on the borders of the forest, and set her to tend the poultry.

So they gave her a small hut at the edge of the forest and assigned her to take care of the chickens.

But the prince as he went out hunting often passed by her hut, and when she saw him pass she never failed to come out and salute him, and now and then he would stop his horse and spend a few moments in gossip with her.

But the prince, while out hunting, often rode by her hut, and whenever she saw him pass, she would always come out to greet him. Now and then, he would stop his horse and chat with her for a few moments.

Before long it was Carneval time; and as the prince came by Maria Wood came out and wished him a ‘good Carneval.’6 The prince stopped his horse and said, his young head full of the pleasure he expected, [87]

Before long, it was Carneval time; and as the prince rode by, Maria Wood came out and wished him a “happy Carneval.” 6 The prince halted his horse and said, his young mind buzzing with the fun he anticipated, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘To-morrow, you know, we have the first day of the feast.’

‘Tomorrow, you know, we have the first day of the feast.’

‘To be sure I know it; and how I should like to be there: won’t you take me?’ answered Maria Wood.

‘Of course I know it; and I would really love to be there: will you take me?’ answered Maria Wood.

‘You shameless old woman,’ replied the prince, ‘to think of your wanting to go to a festino7 at your time of life!’ and he gave her a cut with his whip.

‘You shameless old woman,’ replied the prince, ‘to think you want to go to a festino7 at your age!’ and he hit her with his whip.

The next day Maria put on her dress of the colour of the noontide sky, covered with stars like the sky at midnight, with the parure made to wear with it, and came to the feast. Every lady made place before her dazzling appearance, and the prince alone dared to ask her to dance. With her he danced all the evening, and fairly fell in love with her,8 nor could he leave her side; and as they sat together, he took the ring off his own finger and put it on to her hand. She appeared equally satisfied with his attentions, and seemed to desire no other partner. Only when he tried to gather from her whence she was, she would only say she came from the country of Whipblow,9 which set the prince wondering very much, as he had never heard of such a country. At the end of the ball, the prince sent his attendants to watch her that he might learn where she lived, but she disappeared so swiftly it was impossible for them to tell what had become of her.

The next day, Maria wore her dress the color of the midday sky, dotted with stars like the night sky, along with the jewelry that went with it, and arrived at the party. Every lady stepped aside for her stunning presence, and only the prince had the courage to ask her to dance. He danced with her all evening and quickly fell in love with her, nor could he bear to leave her side; as they sat together, he took a ring off his finger and placed it on her hand. She seemed equally pleased by his attention and showed no interest in any other partner. Only when he tried to find out where she was from, she simply said she came from the country of Whipblow, which puzzled the prince, as he had never heard of such a place. At the end of the ball, the prince sent his attendants to follow her so he could discover where she lived, but she vanished so quickly that they couldn't figure out what had happened to her.

When the prince came by Maria Wood’s hut next day, she did not fail to wish him again a ‘good Carneval.’

When the prince passed by Maria Wood’s hut the next day, she made sure to wish him a ‘good Carneval’ again.

‘To-morrow we have the second festino, you know,’ said the prince.

‘Tomorrow we have the second festino, you know,’ said the prince.

‘Well I know it,’ replied Maria Wood; ‘shouldn’t I like to go! Won’t you take me?’

‘Well, I know it,’ replied Maria Wood; ‘don’t you think I’d love to go! Will you take me?’

‘You contemptible old woman to talk in that way!’ exclaimed the prince. ‘You ought to know better!’ and he struck her with his boot.

‘You despicable old woman to talk like that!’ the prince shouted. ‘You should know better!’ and he kicked her with his boot.

Next night Maria put on her dress of the colour of the sea, covered all over with gold fishes, and the parure [88]made to wear with it, and went to the feast. The prince recognised her at once, and claimed her for his partner all the evening, nor did she seem to wish for any other, only when he tried to learn from her whence she was, she would only say she came from the country of Bootkick.10 The prince could not remember ever to have heard of the Bootkick country, and thought she meant to laugh at him; however, he ordered his attendants to make more haste this night in following her; but what diligence soever they used she was too swift for them.

Next night, Maria wore her sea-colored dress, adorned with goldfish, along with the matching jewelry [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__], and went to the party. The prince immediately recognized her and chose her as his partner for the evening, and she seemed content with that. When he tried to ask her where she was from, she only said she was from the land of Bootkick. The prince couldn't recall ever hearing of Bootkick and thought she was joking; nonetheless, he instructed his attendants to hurry after her that night. No matter how hard they tried, she was too quick for them.

The next time the prince came by Maria Wood’s hut, she did not fail to wish him again a ‘good Carneval.’

The next time the prince passed by Maria Wood’s hut, she made sure to wish him a ‘good Carnival’ again.

‘To-morrow we have the last festino!’ exclaimed he, with a touch of sadness, for he remembered it was the last of the happy evenings that he could feel sure of seeing his fair unknown.

‘Tomorrow we have the last party!’ he exclaimed, feeling a bit sad because he realized it was the last of the happy evenings when he could be sure of seeing his beautiful stranger.

‘Ah! you must take me. But, what’ll you say if I come to it in spite of you?’ answered Maria Wood.

‘Ah! you have to take me. But what will you say if I go for it anyway?’ replied Maria Wood.

‘You incorrigible old woman!’ exclaimed the prince; ‘you provoke me so with your nonsense, I really cannot keep my hand off you;’ and he gave her a slap.

‘You impossible old woman!’ the prince exclaimed; ‘you annoy me so much with your nonsense that I really can’t help but hit you;’ and he slapped her.

The next night Maria Wood put on her dress of a dark blue, all covered with gold embroidery and spangled with silver bells, and the parure made to wear with it. The prince constituted her his partner for the evening as before, nor did she seem to wish for any other, only when he wanted to learn from her whence she was, all she would say was that she came from Slapland.11 This night the prince told his servants to make more haste in following her, or he would discharge them all. But they answered, ‘It is useless to attempt the thing, as no mortal can equal her in swiftness.’

The next night, Maria Wood wore her dark blue dress, which was covered in gold embroidery and decorated with silver bells, along with the matching jewelry. The prince designated her as his partner for the evening again, and she didn’t seem to want anyone else. When he asked her where she was from, she simply replied that she came from Slapland. This night, the prince ordered his servants to hurry up and follow her, or he would fire them all. But they replied, “It’s pointless to try; no one can match her speed.”

After this, the prince fell ill of his disappointment, because he saw no hope of hearing any more of the fair domino with whom he had spent three happy evenings, nor could any doctor find any remedy for his sickness. [89]

After this, the prince became sick from his disappointment because he saw no chance of seeing the beautiful domino again, with whom he had spent three wonderful evenings, and no doctor could find a cure for his illness. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Then Maria Wood sent him word, saying, ‘Though the prince’s physicians cannot help him, yet let him but take a cup of broth of my making, and he will immediately be healed.’

Then Maria Wood sent him a message, saying, ‘Even though the prince’s doctors can’t help him, if he just has a cup of broth that I made, he will be healed right away.’

‘Nonsense! how can a cup of broth, or how can any medicament, help me!’ exclaimed the prince. ‘There is no cure for my ailment.’

‘Nonsense! How can a cup of broth, or any medicine, help me?’ the prince exclaimed. ‘There’s no cure for my condition.’

Again Maria Wood sent the same message; but the prince said angrily,

Again, Maria Wood sent the same message, but the prince replied angrily,

‘Tell the silly old thing to hold her tongue; she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’

‘Tell the silly old thing to be quiet; she doesn’t know what she’s saying.’

But again, the third time, Maria Wood sent to him, saying, ‘Let the prince but take a cup of broth of my making, and he will immediately be healed.’

But once more, for the third time, Maria Wood sent to him, saying, ‘If the prince just drinks a cup of broth that I made, he will be healed right away.’

By this time the prince was so weary that he did not take the trouble to refuse. The servants finding him so depressed began to fear that he was sinking, and they called to Maria Wood to make her broth, because, though they had little faith in her promise, they knew not what else to try. So Maria Wood made ready the cup of broth she had promised, and they put it down beside the prince.

By this point, the prince was so tired that he didn’t even bother to refuse. The servants, seeing him so downcast, started to worry that he was giving up, so they asked Maria Wood to prepare her broth. Although they didn’t have much confidence in her promise, they didn't know what else to do. So, Maria Wood got the cup of broth she had promised ready, and they placed it next to the prince.

Presently the whole palace was roused; the prince had started up in bed, and was shouting,

Presently, the whole palace was awake; the prince had jumped up in bed and was shouting,

‘Bring hither Maria Wood! Quick! Bring hither Maria Wood!’

‘Bring Maria Wood here! Quick! Bring Maria Wood here!’

So they ran and fetched Maria Wood, wondering what could have happened to bring about so great a change in the prince. But the truth was, that Maria had put into the cup of broth the ring the prince had put on her finger the first night of the feast, and when he began to take the broth he found the ring with the spoon. When he saw the ring, he knew at once that Maria Wood could tell where to find his fair partner.

So they ran to get Maria Wood, curious about what could have caused such a big change in the prince. The truth was that Maria had put the ring the prince had given her on the first night of the feast into the bowl of broth. When he started eating the broth, he found the ring with the spoon. As soon as he saw the ring, he realized that Maria Wood could help him find his beautiful partner.

‘Wait a bit! there’s plenty of time!’ said Maria, when the servant came to fetch her in all haste; and she [90]waited to put on her dress of the colour of the noontide sky.

‘Hold on a second! There’s plenty of time!’ said Maria, when the servant rushed in to get her; and she waited to put on her dress the color of the midday sky. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

The prince was beside himself for joy when he saw her, and would have the betrothal celebrated that very day.

The prince was overwhelmed with joy when he saw her, and he wanted to celebrate the engagement that very day.

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THIRD VERSION.

In another version, on the princess refusing to do what the king wishes, he sends his servants to take her to a high tower he has out in the Campagna, and bids them carry her to the top and drop her down.

In another version, when the princess refuses to do what the king wants, he sends his servants to take her to a high tower he has in the Campagna, and tells them to carry her to the top and drop her down.

They take her there; but have not the heart to throw her down. In a corner of the upper story of the tower they see a large case or press.

They take her there, but they can't bring themselves to throw her down. In a corner of the upper floor of the tower, they notice a large case or cabinet.

‘Suppose we shut her up in this great press, and leave her in the middle of the open Campagna, a long way off, to the providence of God? It will be better than killing her,’ says one of them.

‘What if we lock her in this big press and leave her out in the middle of the open Campagna, far away, to the mercy of God? It will be better than killing her,’ says one of them.

‘We have nothing against the plan,’ answered the others; ‘provided we take her so far that she cannot possibly come back to our king’s country.’

‘We have no issues with the plan,’ replied the others; ‘as long as we take her far enough away that she can’t possibly return to our king’s land.’

So they locked her up in the great box, and carried the box a long, long way out in the open Campagna, and left it there to the providence of God.

So they locked her up in the big box, carried the box a long, long way out in the open countryside, and left it there to the care of God.

The poor princess was very glad to have escaped death; but she felt very desolate in the box. As she was wondering what would happen to her, she was suddenly frightened by a great barking of dogs round the box. A king’s son had come by hunting, and his dogs had smelt human blood in the box.

The poor princess was really happy to have escaped death; but she felt very lonely in the box. As she wondered what would happen to her, she was suddenly scared by the loud barking of dogs around the box. A prince had come by hunting, and his dogs had picked up the scent of human blood in the box.

‘Call the dogs off, and let’s see what’s in the box,’ said the prince.

‘Call off the dogs, and let’s see what’s in the box,’ said the prince.

So they opened the box; and when they saw the princess inside, they saw she was no common maiden, for she had a stomacher and earrings of brilliants. So they brought her to the prince, and she pleased him, and he married her. [91]

So they opened the box, and when they saw the princess inside, they realized she was no ordinary girl; she had a beautiful bodice and diamond earrings. So they brought her to the prince, who was pleased with her, and he married her. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

[This way of introducing the box incident is more like Straparola’s, and again connects this group with the former one in which I have had occasion to mention it.]

[This way of introducing the box incident is more similar to Straparola’s and again links this group with the previous one I mentioned.]

1 Maria di Legno. ↑

1 Maria of Wood. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 This is one of the very rare instances in which the Devil appears in Roman stories in this kind of character, so common in Northern popular tales. ↑

2 This is one of the very few times the Devil shows up in Roman stories like this, which is so typical in Northern folklore. ↑

3 ‘Colle gioie compagne.’ ↑

3 'College buddies.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4 ‘Vecchiarella.’ ↑

4 'Old lady.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

5 ‘Gallinara.’ ↑

5 'Gallinara.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

6 A ‘buon carnevale’ chiefly implies the wish that the person to whom it is addressed should have good success with partners at the balls, &c. ↑

6 A “happy carnival” mainly means the hope that the person receiving it will have a great time and success with partners at the balls, etc. ↑

7 A ‘festino’ is the common name for a public masqued ball commencing at midnight. There are three principal ones in the Roman Carneval; in other parts of Italy, where the Carneval is longer, there are probably more. It is also called ‘Veglione,’ because it keeps people awake at a time when they ought to be in bed. ↑

7 A ‘festino’ is the name for a public masked ball that starts at midnight. There are three main ones during the Roman Carneval; in other areas of Italy, where Carneval lasts longer, there are likely more. It’s also known as ‘Veglione’ because it keeps people awake when they should be in bed. ↑

8 ‘How quick princes always were in falling in love in those days!’ was the running comment of the narrator. ↑

8 ‘How quickly princes used to fall in love back then!’ was the ongoing remark of the narrator. ↑

9 To understand the implied satire of this word it is necessary to observe that ‘Frusta’ is a whip; the princess therefore says she came from ‘Frustinaia,’ Whip-blow. ↑

9 To understand the hidden satire in this word, it's important to note that 'Frusta' means whip; so the princess is essentially saying she came from 'Frustinaia,' which means Whip-blow. ↑

10 ‘Stivale,’ a boot. As the prince had struck her with his boot, she says she comes from ‘Stivalaia,’ Boot-kick. ↑

10 ‘Stivale,’ which means a boot. Since the prince had kicked her with his boot, she claims she comes from ‘Stivalaia,’ Boot-kick. ↑

11 ‘Schiaffaia’ from schiaffa, a slap. The prince had given her a slap, so she says she comes from Slap-land. ↑

11 ‘Schiaffaia’ comes from schiaffa, which means a slap. The prince had slapped her, so she claims she comes from Slap-land. ↑

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LA CANDELIERA.1

They say there was once a king who wanted to make his beautiful young daughter marry an old, ugly king. Every time the king talked to his daughter about this marriage, she cried and begged him to spare her; but he only went on urging her the more, till at last she feared he would command her to consent, so that she might not disobey; therefore at last she said: ‘Before I marry this ugly old king to please you, you must do something to please me.’

They say there was once a king who wanted his beautiful young daughter to marry an old, ugly king. Every time he brought up the marriage, she cried and begged him to let her off the hook; but he just kept pushing her more. Eventually, she was scared he would force her to agree, so to avoid disobeying him, she finally said, "Before I marry this ugly old king to make you happy, you have to do something to make me happy."

‘Oh, anything you like I will do,’ replied he.

‘Oh, I’ll do whatever you want,’ he replied.

‘Then you must order for me,’ she replied, ‘a splendid [92]candelabrum, ten feet high, having a thick stem bigger than a man, and covered all over with all kinds of ornaments and devices in gold.’

‘Then you have to get me,’ she replied, ‘an amazing [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]candelabrum, ten feet tall, with a thick base larger than a person, and completely covered in all sorts of gold decorations and designs.’

‘That shall be done,’ said the king; and he sent for the chief goldsmith of the court, and told him to make such a candelabrum; and, as he was very desirous that the marriage should be celebrated without delay, he urged him to make the candelabrum with all despatch.

‘That will be done,’ said the king; and he called for the head goldsmith of the court and instructed him to create the candelabrum; and, since he was very eager for the wedding to take place without delay, he pressed him to complete the candelabrum as quickly as possible.

In a very short space of time the goldsmith brought home the candelabrum, made according to the princess’s description, and the king ordered it to be taken into his daughter’s apartment. The princess expressed herself quite pleased with it, and the king was satisfied that the marriage would now shortly take place.

In no time at all, the goldsmith returned with the candelabrum, made to the princess’s specifications, and the king had it taken to his daughter’s room. The princess was really happy with it, and the king was convinced that the wedding would happen soon.

Late in the evening, however, the princess called her chamberlain to her, and said to him: ‘This great awkward candlestick is not the sort of thing I wanted; it does not please me at all. To-morrow morning you may take it and sell it, for I cannot bear the sight of it. You may keep the price it sells for, whatever it is; but you had better take it away early, before my father gets up.’

Late in the evening, the princess summoned her chamberlain and said to him, "This huge, clumsy candlestick isn't what I wanted; I don't like it at all. Tomorrow morning, you can take it and sell it, because I can't stand looking at it. You can keep whatever it sells for, but you’d better take it away early, before my father wakes up."

The chamberlain was very pleased to get so great a perquisite, and got up very early to carry it away. The princess, however, had got up earlier, and had placed herself inside the candlestick; so that she was carried out of the palace by the chamberlain, and thus she escaped the marriage she dreaded so much with the ugly old king.

The chamberlain was really happy to receive such a valuable bonus and woke up early to take it. However, the princess had woken up even earlier and hidden herself inside the candlestick. As a result, the chamberlain carried her out of the palace, allowing her to escape the marriage she feared with the ugly old king.

The chamberlain, judging that the king would be very angry if he heard of his selling the splendid candelabrum he had just had made, did not venture to expose it for sale within the borders of his dominions, but carried it to the capital of the neighbouring sovereign. Here he set it up in the market-place, and cried, ‘Who’ll buy my candelabrum? Who’ll buy my fine candelabrum?’ When all the people saw what a costly candelabrum it was, no one would offer for it. At last it got bruited about till it [93]reached the ears of the son of the king of that country, that there was a man standing in the market-place, offering to sell the most splendid candelabrum that ever was seen; so he went out to look at it himself.

The chamberlain, knowing that the king would be really angry if he found out he had sold the gorgeous candelabrum he just had made, didn't dare to put it up for sale in his own territory. Instead, he took it to the capital of the neighboring ruler. There, he displayed it in the market and shouted, ‘Who wants to buy my candelabrum? Who wants to buy my beautiful candelabrum?’ When everyone saw how luxurious it was, no one was willing to make an offer. Eventually, word spread until it reached the prince of that kingdom, who heard there was a person in the market trying to sell the most magnificent candelabrum anyone had ever seen, so he decided to go check it out himself.

No sooner had the prince seen it than he determined that he must have it; so he bought it for the price of three hundred scudi, and sent his servants to take it up into his apartment. After that, he went about his affairs as usual. In the evening, however, he said to his body-servant, ‘As I am going to the play to-night, and shall be home late, take my supper up into my own room.’ And the servant did as he told him.

No sooner had the prince seen it than he decided he had to have it; so he bought it for three hundred scudi and sent his servants to take it up to his room. After that, he went about his business as usual. In the evening, however, he told his body-servant, “Since I'm going to the theater tonight and will be home late, please take my dinner up to my room.” And the servant did as instructed.

When the prince came home from the play, he was very much surprised to find his supper eaten and all the dishes and glasses disarranged.

When the prince got home from the play, he was really surprised to find his dinner eaten and all the dishes and glasses out of place.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ he exclaimed, calling his servant to him in a great fury. ‘Is this the way you prepare supper for me?’

‘What does this mean?’ he shouted, summoning his servant in a fit of rage. ‘Is this how you get dinner ready for me?’

‘I don’t know what to say, your Royal Highness,’ stammered the man; ‘I saw the supper properly laid myself. How it got into this condition is more than I can say. With the leave of your Highness, I will order the table to be relaid.’

‘I don’t know what to say, your Royal Highness,’ the man stammered. ‘I personally saw the supper set up properly. How it ended up like this is beyond me. If it’s alright with you, I’ll have the table reset.’

But the prince was too angry to allow anything of the sort, and he went supperless to bed.

But the prince was too angry to let that happen, and he went to bed without dinner.

The next night the same thing happened, and the prince in his displeasure threatened to discharge his servant. The night after, however, his curiosity being greatly excited as he thought over the circumstance, he called his servant, and said: ‘Lay the supper before I go out, and I will lock the room and take the key in my pocket, and we will see if anyone gets in then.’

The next night, the same thing happened again, and the prince, feeling frustrated, threatened to fire his servant. However, the following night, his curiosity piqued as he reflected on the situation, he called his servant and said, “Set the table for dinner before I go out, and I’ll lock the room and keep the key with me. Let’s see if anyone gets in then.”

But, though this is what he said outloud, he determined to stay hidden within the room; and this is what he did. He had not remained there hidden very long when, lo and behold, the candelabrum, on which he had [94]never bestowed a thought since the moment he bought it, opened, and there walked out the most beautiful princess he had ever seen, who sat down at the table, and began to sup with hearty appetite.

But, even though that's what he said out loud, he decided to stay hidden in the room; and that's exactly what he did. He hadn't been hidden there for long when, surprise, the candelabrum, which he had [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]never thought about since he bought it, opened up, and out stepped the most beautiful princess he had ever seen. She sat down at the table and started eating with a big appetite.

‘Welcome, welcome, fair princess!’ exclaimed the astonished prince. ‘You have heard me from within your hiding-place speaking with indignation because my meal had been disturbed. How little did I imagine such an honour had been done me as that it should have served you!’ And he sat down beside her, and they finished the meal together. When it was over, the princess went away into her candelabrum again; and the next night the prince said to his servant: ‘In case anyone eats my supper while I am out, you had better bring up a double portion.’ The next day he had not his supper only, but all his meals, brought into his apartment; nor did he ever leave it at all now, so happy was he in the society of the princess.

‘Welcome, welcome, beautiful princess!’ exclaimed the astonished prince. ‘You heard me from your hiding spot speaking with frustration because my meal was interrupted. How little did I imagine that such an honor had been given to me as to have you present!’ And he sat down next to her, and they finished the meal together. When it was over, the princess returned to her candelabrum; and the next night the prince told his servant: ‘If anyone eats my dinner while I'm out, you should bring up double the portion.’ The following day he had not just his dinner but all his meals brought into his room; nor did he ever leave it now, so happy was he in the company of the princess.

Then the king and queen began to question about him, saying: ‘What has bereft our son of his senses, seeing that now he no more follows the due occupations of his years, but sits all day apart in his room?’

Then the king and queen started asking about him, saying: ‘What has driven our son mad, since he no longer engages in the usual activities for his age, but instead sits alone in his room all day?’

Then they called him to them and said: ‘It is not well that you should sit thus all day long in your private apartments alone. It is time that you should bethink yourself of taking a wife.’

Then they called him over and said: ‘It's not good for you to sit in your private room alone all day long. It's time for you to consider getting a wife.’

But the prince answered, ‘No other wife will I have but the candelabrum.’

But the prince replied, ‘I won’t have any other wife except the candelabrum.’

When his parents heard him say this they said: ‘Now there is no doubt that he is mad;’ and they spoke no more about his marrying.

When his parents heard him say this, they said, ‘Now there's no doubt he's crazy;’ and they didn't mention his marriage again.

But one day, the queen-mother coming into his apartment suddenly, found the door of the candelabrum open, and the princess sitting talking with the prince. Then she, too, was struck with her beauty, and said: ‘If this is what you were thinking of when you said you would [95]marry the candelabrum, it was well judged.’ And she took the princess by the hand and led her to the presence of the king. The king, too, praised her beauty, and she was given to the prince to be his wife.

But one day, the queen-mother walked into his room unexpectedly and found the candelabrum door open, with the princess talking to the prince. She was struck by the princess’s beauty and said, “If this is what you had in mind when you mentioned [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] marrying the candelabrum, then you made a good choice.” She took the princess by the hand and brought her to the king. The king also admired her beauty, and she was given to the prince to be his wife.

And the king her father, when he heard of the alliance, he too was right glad, and said he esteemed it far above that of the ugly old king he wanted her to have married at the first.

And her father the king, when he heard about the alliance, was very pleased and said he valued it much more than the match with the ugly old king he initially wanted her to marry.

[The mode of telling adopted by Roman narrators makes a way out of the difficulty which this group of stories presents at first sight in the king seeming to be fated by supernatural appointment to marry his daughter. One says, ‘the queen did not say he was to marry her the ring fitted, but he was not to marry any it did not fit.’ The other says, the slipper was a supernatural slipper, and would not fit anyone whom he could marry. Whether this was a part of the traditional story or the gloss of the repeater, I do not pretend to decide. In the ‘Candeliera,’ though similar in the main, this difficulty does not arise.

[The way Roman storytellers tell their tales provides a solution to the initial challenge presented by these stories, where the king seems destined by supernatural forces to marry his daughter. One narrative states, ‘the queen didn’t say he had to marry the one the ring fit, but he wasn’t allowed to marry anyone it didn’t fit.’ Another mentions that the slipper was a magical slipper that wouldn’t fit anyone he could marry. Whether this was part of the traditional story or an addition by the storyteller, I can’t say for sure. In the ‘Candeliera,’ although the story is similar overall, this issue doesn’t come up.]

My Roman narrators seem to have been fonder of stories of maidens than of youths. I have only one of the latter, and by no means an uncommon one, to set off against all the Stepmother stories of the former. It, however, is the male counterpart of a prolific family in which the girls figure under similar circumstances. Grimm gives several, particularly ‘Frau Holle,’ p. 104. Dr. Dasent gives ‘The two Stepsisters.’ In the Tales of Italian Tirol are two, ‘Cölla döllö doi sores’ and ‘Le due sorelle.’ And among the Russian Tales, ‘Frost,’ p. 214. It has also been connected with the large group in which a rich brother (sometimes the elder, sometimes the younger) leaves his poor brother to starve, and ultimately gets terribly punished for enviously grasping at the poor one’s subsequent good fortune: but the structure of these is very different.] [96]

My Roman storytellers seem to have preferred tales about maidens over those about young men. I only have one story about the latter, and it’s not particularly unique, to compare with all the Stepmother stories about the former. However, it is the male equivalent of a well-known family of stories where the girls find themselves in similar situations. Grimm includes several, especially ‘Frau Holle,’ p. 104. Dr. Dasent shares ‘The two Stepsisters.’ In the Tales of Italian Tirol, there are two, ‘Cölla döllö doi sores’ and ‘Le due sorelle.’ And among the Russian Tales, there’s ‘Frost,’ p. 214. It has also been linked to a larger group of stories where a wealthy brother (sometimes the older, sometimes the younger) leaves his poor brother to suffer, and in the end, he faces severe punishment for enviously seizing the poor one’s later good luck: but the structure of these stories is quite different. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 Among the licenses which Italians take with the terminations of their words, not the least is altering the gender. ‘Candeliere’ (masc.), otherwise ‘candelliere,’ is the proper form; and I do not think ‘candeliera’ will be found in any dictionary; but as the story requires the female gender, the word is readily coined. ↑

1 Among the liberties that Italians take with word endings, one notable change is in gender. ‘Candeliere’ (masc.), or ‘candelliere,’ is the correct form; I doubt you’ll find ‘candeliera’ in any dictionary. However, since the story needs a female form, the word is easily created. ↑

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THE TWO HUNCHBACKED BROTHERS.1

There was once a man who had one son, who married a widow who also had one son, and both were hunchbacks. The wife took very good care of her own son, but the son of her husband she used to put to hard work and gave him scarcely anything to eat. Her son, too, used to imitate his mother, and sadly ill-treat his stepbrother.

There was once a man who had one son, who married a widow who also had one son, and both were hunchbacks. The wife took great care of her own son, but she made her husband's son do hard labor and barely gave him anything to eat. Her son also copied his mother and treated his stepbrother poorly.

After treating him ill for a long time, she at last sent him away from the house altogether.

After mistreating him for a long time, she finally kicked him out of the house completely.

The poor little hunchback wandered away without knowing where to go.

The poor little hunchback wandered off without knowing where to go.

On, on, on he went, till at last he came to a lonely hut on a wide moor. At his approach a whole host of little hunchbacks came out and danced round him, chanting plaintively—

On, on, on he went, until finally he arrived at a lonely hut on a vast moor. As he got closer, a whole bunch of little hunchbacks emerged and danced around him, singing sadly—

Sabbato!

Saturday!

Domenica!

Sunday!

a great number of times. At last our little hunchback felt his courage stirred, and, taking up the note of their chant, chimed in with—

a great number of times. At last, our little hunchback felt his courage rise, and, joining in with their chant, sang along with—

Lunedì!

Monday!

Instantly the dancing ceased, all the little hunchback dwarfs became full-grown, well-formed men, and, what was better still, his own hump was gone too, and he felt that he, too, was a well-grown lad.

Instantly, the dancing stopped, all the little hunchback dwarfs transformed into full-grown, well-formed men, and, even better, his own hump was gone too, and he felt that he was a well-built young man.

‘Good people,’ said our hunchback—now hunchbacked no more—‘I thank you much for ridding me of my hump and making me a well-grown lad. Give me now some work to do among you, and let me live with you.’

‘Good people,’ said our hunchback—now no longer hunchbacked—‘Thank you so much for removing my hump and turning me into a well-built young man. Please give me some work to do among you, and let me live with you.’

But the chief of the strange people answered him and said: ‘This favour we owe to you, not you to us; for it was your chiming in with the right word on the right note which destroyed the spell that held us all. And in testimony [97]of our gratitude we give you further this little wand, and you will not need to work with us. Go back and live at home, and if ever anyone beats you as heretofore, you have only to say to it, “At ’em, good stick!”2 and you will see what it will do for you.’

But the leader of the strange people replied and said: ‘This favor is owed to you, not the other way around; it was your timing with the right word that broke the spell holding us all. And as a token of our gratitude, we present you with this little wand, and you won’t need to work with us anymore. Go back and live at home, and if anyone ever hits you like before, all you have to say is, “Get them, good stick!” and you’ll see what it can do for you.’

Then all disappeared, and the boy went home.

Then everything vanished, and the boy went home.

‘So you’ve come back, have you?’ said the stepmother. ‘What, and without your hump, too! Where have you left that?’

‘So you’re back, are you?’ said the stepmother. ‘What, and you don’t have your hump anymore! Where did you leave it?’

Then the good boy told her all that had happened, without hiding anything.

Then the good boy told her everything that had happened, without holding anything back.

‘Do you hear that?’ said the stepmother to her own son. ‘Now go you and get rid of your hump in the same way.’

‘Do you hear that?’ said the stepmother to her son. ‘Now go and get rid of your hump the same way.’

So the second hunchback went forth, and journeyed on till he came to the lonely hut on the moor.

So the second hunchback went out and traveled until he reached the lonely cabin on the moor.

A tribe of hunchbacks came out and danced round him, and sung—

A group of hunchbacks came out and danced around him, singing—

Sabbato!

Saturday!

Domenica!

Sunday!

Lunedì!

Monday!

to which the bad son of the stepmother added in his rough voice, all out of tune—

to which the terrible stepson's harsh voice joined in, completely out of tune—

Martedì!

Tuesday!

Immediately all the hunchbacks came round him and gave him a drubbing, and the chief of them stuck on him a hump in front as well as behind.

Immediately, all the hunchbacks gathered around him and beat him up, and their leader added a hump on him both in front and in the back.

Thus they sent him home to his mother.

Thus, they sent him home to his mom.

When his mother saw him come home in this plight, she turned upon the stepson and abused him for having misled her son to injure him; and both mother and son set upon him and belaboured him after their wont. But he had only told the truth, without intention to deceive; and the stepmother’s son had incurred the anger of the dwarfs by his discordant addition to their chant. So the first hero took out his wand and said, ‘At ’em, good stick!’ and [98]the wand flew out of his hand and administered on mother and son a sounder drubbing than that they had themselves been administering. Ever after that he was able to live at home in peace, for everyone was afraid to injure him because of the power of his stick.

When his mother saw him come home in this state, she confronted the stepson and yelled at him for leading her son into trouble. Both mother and son then attacked him and beat him up as they usually did. But he had only spoken the truth, with no intention to mislead; the stepmother’s son had brought the dwarfs' wrath upon himself with his off-key addition to their song. So the first hero pulled out his wand and said, ‘Go get them, good stick!’ and the wand flew out of his hand, giving the mother and son a more thorough beating than what they had just dished out. From that day on, he was able to live at home peacefully, as everyone was afraid to harm him because of the power of his stick.

[Next we have a group where a younger sister of three comes to supernatural good fortune, without any previous envy or ill-treatment on the part of her elders.] [99]

[Next we have a group where a three-year-old younger sister experiences incredible good luck, without any prior jealousy or mistreatment from her older siblings.] [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘I due Fratelli Gobbi.’ ↑

1 ‘The Two Gobbi Brothers.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Bachettone mena!’ Perhaps the greatest stumbling-block in the way of acquiring familiarity with the art of conversing in Italian is the capricious use of the augmentative and diminutive terminations of words. Scarcely any substantive or adjective comes out of the mouth of an Italian without qualifications of this sort, making the spoken quite different from the written language. A foreigner can never arrive at the right use of these, because they have to be made up at the moment of use, upon no established laws, but entirely by a sort of instinctive perception of fitness. At Note 1 and 3 to ‘Il Poveretto,’ and other places, I have given some specimens of some of the most ordinary of these transformations. In the instance before us, ‘bacchettone,’ from ‘bacchetta,’ a rod, presents two distinct irregularities. The augmentative of a feminine noun never ought strictly to be ‘ona;’ but there are numerous instances, scarcely to be remembered under the largest practice, in which a feminine noun takes a masculine augmentative. ‘Bacchetta’ happens to be one of these. Next, the addition ‘one’ would ordinarily express that the thing to whose designation it was added was particularly big; yet in this instance it is applied to a little wand; it is clear, therefore, that it no longer means ‘big,’ but ‘singular,’ ‘remarkable’ in some way or other; best rendered in English by ‘good stick.’ ‘Menare,’ whence ‘mena,’ is a word of many meanings, which, though they may be all traced to the same original idea, must not be confounded. In common parlance, as in the present case, it means to beat; and ‘menar moglie’ is a common expression too; but it does not mean ‘to beat your wife,’ but ‘to lead home a wife,’ or, as we say, to ‘take a wife.’ The primary meaning is ‘to lead;’ hence, to govern; hence, to govern harshly; hence, to govern with violence; hence, to spite, to beat. One sentence in which it is used recalls a capricious use of our own word ‘to beat.’ ‘Menar’ il cane per l’aja’ (literally, to lead the dog all about the threshing-floor), answers exactly to our expression, ‘to beat about the bush’ in talking. ‘Menare’ and ‘dimenare, la coda,’ is said also of a dog wagging his tail. On the other hand, ‘menare per il naso’ (literally, ‘to lead one by the nose’), has by no means the signification those words bear in English, but implies a roundabout way of giving an account of anything. ↑

2 ‘Bachettone mena!’ One of the biggest challenges in getting comfortable speaking Italian is the unpredictable use of augmentative and diminutive endings of words. Almost every noun or adjective spoken by an Italian comes with these kinds of modifications, making spoken language quite different from written language. A foreigner can never master the correct use of these because they have to be formed on the spot, based on no established rules, but rather on an instinctive sense of what fits. In Notes 1 and 3 of 'Il Poveretto,' as well as other places, I have provided examples of some of the most common transformations. In this case, ‘bacchettone,’ derived from ‘bacchetta,’ which means a rod, shows two distinct irregularities. The augmentative form of a feminine noun should strictly be ‘ona’; however, there are many instances, hardly memorable even with extensive practice, where a feminine noun takes a masculine augmentative. ‘Bacchetta’ is one of these. Additionally, the suffix ‘one’ usually indicates that the object it modifies is particularly large; however, in this context, it refers to a little wand. Thus, it’s evident that it no longer implies ‘big,’ but rather ‘singular’ or ‘remarkable’ in some way, best translated into English as ‘good stick.’ ‘Menare,’ which leads to ‘mena,’ is a word with multiple meanings that, while all stemming from the same basic idea, should not be confused. In everyday use, as in the current example, it means to beat; ‘menar moglie’ is also a common phrase, but it doesn’t refer to ‘beating your wife’; it means ‘to lead home a wife,’ or, as we would say, to ‘take a wife.’ The primary meaning is ‘to lead;’ thus, it can also refer to governing; hence, to govern harshly; and further, to govern with violence; and eventually, to spite or to beat. One sentence where it appears highlights an unusual use of our own word ‘to beat.’ ‘Menar’ il cane per l’aja’ (literally, to lead the dog all around the threshing-floor), corresponds perfectly to our phrase ‘to beat around the bush’ when speaking. ‘Menare’ and ‘dimenare, la coda’ are also used to describe a dog wagging its tail. Conversely, ‘menare per il naso’ (literally, ‘to lead one by the nose’) does not have the same meaning in English, but implies a roundabout way of explaining something. ↑

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THE DARK KING.1

They say there was once a poor chicory-gatherer who went out every day with his wife and his three daughters to gather chicory to sell for salad. Once, at Carneval time, he said, ‘We must gather a fine good lot to-day,’ and they all dispersed themselves about trying to do their best. The youngest daughter thus came to a place apart where the chicory was of a much finer growth than any she had ever seen before. ‘This will be grand!’ she said to herself, as she prepared to pull up the finest plant of it. But what was her surprise when with the plant, up came all the earth round it and a great hole only remained!

They say there was once a poor chicory gatherer who went out every day with his wife and three daughters to pick chicory to sell for salad. One day during Carnival, he said, "We need to gather a lot today," and they all spread out to do their best. The youngest daughter found a spot where the chicory was much nicer than anything she had ever seen before. "This will be great!" she thought, as she got ready to pull up the best plant. But to her surprise, when she pulled it up, all the soil came with it and left a big hole behind!

When she peeped down into it timidly she was further surprised to find it was no dark cave below as she had apprehended, but a bright apartment handsomely furnished, and a most appetising meal spread out on the table, there was, moreover, a commodious staircase reaching to the soil on which she stood, to descend by.

When she cautiously looked down into it, she was even more surprised to see that it wasn't a dark cave as she had feared, but a well-lit room with nice furniture and a really tempting meal set out on the table. There was also a convenient staircase leading up to the ground where she stood, to go down by.

All fear was quickly overcome by the pleasant sight, and the girl at once prepared to descend, and, as no one appeared, to raise any objection, she sat down quite boldly and partook of the good food. As soon as she had finished eating, the tables were cleared away by invisible hands, and, as she had nothing else to do she wandered about the place looking at everything. After she had passed through several brilliant rooms she came to a passage, out of which led several store-chambers, where was laid up a good supply of everything that could serve in a house. In some there were provisions of all sorts, in some stuffs both for clothes and furniture.

All her fear quickly disappeared at the lovely sight, and the girl confidently prepared to go down. Since no one showed up to object, she sat down without hesitation and enjoyed the delicious food. As soon as she finished eating, invisible hands cleared the tables, and with nothing else to do, she wandered around the place, examining everything. After exploring several beautiful rooms, she found a hallway that led to several storage rooms filled with a good supply of everything needed for a home. Some rooms held all kinds of food, while others contained materials for clothes and furniture.

‘There seems to be no one to own all these fine things,’ said the girl. ‘What a boon they would be at home!’ and she put together all that would be most useful to her mother. But what was her dismay when she went back [100]to the dining-hall to find that the staircase by which she had descended was no longer there!

‘It looks like there’s no one to claim all these nice things,’ said the girl. ‘What a blessing they would be at home!’ and she gathered up everything that would be most helpful to her mother. But what a shock it was when she returned [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]to the dining hall and discovered that the staircase she had come down was gone!

At this sight she sat down and had a good cry, but by-and-by, supper-time came, and with it an excellent supper, served in as mysterious a way as the dinner; and as a good supper was a rare enjoyment for her, she almost forgot her grief while discussing it. After that, invisible hands led her into a bedroom, where she was gently undressed and put to bed without seeing anyone. In the morning she was put in a bath and dressed by invisible hands, but dressed like a princess all in beautiful clothes.

At this sight, she sat down and had a good cry, but eventually, supper time arrived, and with it, a fantastic meal, served as mysteriously as dinner had been; since a good supper was a rare treat for her, she almost forgot her sadness while enjoying it. After that, unseen hands guided her into a bedroom, where she was gently undressed and tucked into bed without seeing anyone. In the morning, she was placed in a bath and dressed by invisible hands, but dressed like a princess in beautiful clothes.

So it all went on for at least three months; every luxury she could wish was provided without stint, but as she never saw anyone she began to get weary, and at last so weary that she could do nothing but cry. At the sound of her crying there came into the room a great black King.2 Though he was so dark and so big that she was frightened at the sight of him, he spoke very kindly, and asked her why she cried so bitterly, and whether she was not provided with everything she could desire. As she hardly knew herself why she cried, she did not know what to answer him, but only went on whimpering. Then he said, ‘You have not seen half the extent of this palace yet or you would not be so weary; here are the keys of all the locked rooms which you have not been into yet. Amuse yourself as much as you like in going through them; they are all just like your own. Only into the room of which the key is not among these do not try to enter. In all the rest do what you like.’

So it all went on for at least three months; every luxury she could want was provided without hesitation, but since she never saw anyone, she started to feel exhausted, and eventually she became so exhausted that all she could do was cry. When she cried, a tall, dark King entered the room. Even though he was so dark and so large that she was scared of him, he spoke gently and asked her why she was crying so hard and whether she wasn’t provided with everything she desired. Since she barely knew why she was crying, she didn’t know how to respond, so she just kept whimpering. Then he said, “You haven’t seen half of this palace yet, or you wouldn’t be so tired; here are the keys to all the locked rooms that you haven’t explored yet. Enter them and entertain yourself as much as you want; they’re all just like your own. Just don’t try to enter the room for which you don’t have a key. In all the others, do as you please.”

The next morning she took the keys and went into one of the locked rooms, and there she found so many things to surprise and amuse her that she spent the whole day there, and the next day she examined another, and so on for quite three months together, and the locked room of which she had not the key she never thought of trying to enter. But all amusements tire at last, and at the end of [101]this time she was so melancholy that she could do nothing but cry. Then the Dark King came again and asked her tenderly what she wanted.

The next morning, she took the keys and opened one of the locked rooms. Inside, she found so many things that surprised and entertained her that she spent the entire day there. The next day, she explored another room, and this continued for nearly three months. She never even thought about trying to enter the locked room for which she didn’t have the key. But eventually, all fun gets old, and by the end of [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]this time, she felt so sad that all she could do was cry. Then the Dark King returned and gently asked her what she wanted.

‘I want nothing you can give me,’ she replied this time. ‘I am tired of being so long away from home. I want to go back home.’

‘I don’t want anything you can give me,’ she replied this time. ‘I’m tired of being away from home for so long. I want to go back home.’

‘But remember how badly you were clothed, and how poorly you fared,’ replied the Dark King.

‘But remember how poorly you were dressed and how hard things were for you,’ replied the Dark King.

‘Ah, I know it is much pleasanter here,’ said the girl, ‘for all those matters, but one cannot do without seeing one’s relations, now and then at least.’

‘Ah, I know it’s much nicer here,’ said the girl, ‘because of all that, but you can’t go too long without seeing your family, at least once in a while.’

‘If you make such a point of it,’ answered the Dark King, ‘you shall go home and see papa and mamma, but you will come back here. I only let you go on that condition.’

‘If you insist on it,’ replied the Dark King, ‘you can go home and see your dad and mom, but you will return here. I’m only allowing you to leave on that condition.’

The arrangement was accepted, and next day she was driven home in a fine coach with prancing horses and bright harness. Her appearance at home caused so much astonishment that there was hardly room for pleasure, and even her own mother would hardly acknowledge her; as for her sisters, they were so changed by her altered circumstances and so filled with jealousy they would scarcely speak to her. But when she gave her mother a large pot of gold which the Dark King had given her for the purpose, their hearts were somewhat won back to her, and they began to ask all manner of questions concerning what had befallen her during her absence. So much time had been lost at first, however, that none was left for answering them, and, promising to try and come back to them soon, she drove away in her splendid coach.

The arrangement was accepted, and the next day she was driven home in a fancy carriage with lively horses and shiny harnesses. Her arrival home caused so much shock that there was barely any room for joy, and even her own mother could hardly recognize her; as for her sisters, they were so changed by her new situation and filled with jealousy that they could barely talk to her. But when she presented her mother with a large pot of gold that the Dark King had given her for that reason, their hearts began to soften towards her, and they started to ask all sorts of questions about what had happened to her while she was away. However, so much time had already been lost that there was no time left to answer them, and, promising to try to visit them again soon, she drove away in her magnificent carriage.

Another three months passed away after this, and at the end of it she was once more so weary, her tears and cries again called the Dark King to her side.

Another three months went by, and by the end of that time, she was once again so exhausted that her tears and cries summoned the Dark King back to her side.

Again she confided to him that her great grief was the wish to see her friends at home. She could not bear being so long without them. To content her once more he [102]promised to let her drive home the next day; and the next day accordingly she went home.

Again, she shared with him that her deep sorrow was missing her friends back home. She couldn’t stand being away from them for so long. To comfort her once more, he [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] promised to let her drive home the next day; and sure enough, the next day she went home.

This time she met with a better reception, and having brought out her pot of gold at her first arrival, everyone was full of anxiety to know how it came she had such riches at her disposal.

This time she was welcomed more warmly, and having revealed her pot of gold upon her arrival, everyone was eager to find out how she had come into such wealth.

‘What that pot of money!’ replied the girl, in a tone of disparagement. ‘That’s nothing. You should see the beautiful things that are scattered about in my new home, just like nothing at all;’ and then she went on to describe the magnificence of the place, till nothing would satisfy them but that they should go there too.

‘What a small amount of money!’ replied the girl, with a dismissive tone. ‘That’s nothing. You should see the amazing things that are spread out in my new home, like they’re worth nothing at all;’ and then she continued to describe the splendor of the place, until nothing would satisfy them but the idea of going there too.

‘That’s impossible,’ she replied. ‘I promised him not even to mention it.’

‘That’s impossible,’ she said. ‘I promised him I wouldn’t even bring it up.’

‘But if he were got rid of, then we might come,’ replied the elder sisters.

‘But if we could get rid of him, then we might come,’ replied the older sisters.

‘What do you mean by “got rid of”?’ asked the youngest.

‘What do you mean by “got rid of”?’ asked the youngest.

‘Why, it is evident he is some bad sort of enchanter, whom it would be well to rid the earth of. If you were to take this stiletto and put it into his breast when he is asleep, we might all come down there and be happy together.’

‘It's clear he's some kind of evil enchanter, and it would be better for the world if he were gone. If you took this stiletto and stabbed him while he sleeps, we could all come down there and be happy together.’

‘Oh, I could never do that!’

‘Oh, I could never do that!’

‘Ah, you are so selfish you want to keep all for yourself. If you had any spirit in you, you would burst open that locked door where, you may depend the best of the treasure is concealed, and then put this stiletto into the old enchanter, and call us all down to live with you.’

‘Ah, you’re so selfish you want to keep everything for yourself. If you had any guts, you would break down that locked door where, you can bet, the best treasure is hidden, and then use this stiletto on the old enchanter, and summon us all to live with you.’

It was in vain she protested she could not be so ungrateful and cruel; they over-persuaded her with their arguments, and frightened her so with their reproaches that she went back resolved to do their bidding.

It was pointless for her to protest that she couldn't be so ungrateful and cruel; they convinced her with their arguments and scared her so much with their accusations that she returned determined to obey them.

The next morning she called up all her courage and pushed open the closed door. Inside were a number of beautiful maidens weaving glittering raiment. [103]

The next morning she gathered all her courage and pushed open the closed door. Inside were several beautiful maidens weaving glittering garments. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘What are you doing?’ asked the chicory-gatherer.

‘What are you doing?’ asked the chicory gatherer.

‘Making raiment for the bride of the Dark King against her espousals,’ replied the maidens.

‘Making outfits for the bride of the Dark King for her wedding,’ replied the maidens.

A little further on was a goldsmith and all his men working at all sorts of splendid ornaments filled with pearls and diamonds and rubies.

A bit further down was a goldsmith and all his workers creating all kinds of amazing jewelry decorated with pearls, diamonds, and rubies.

‘What are you doing?’ asked the girl.

‘What are you doing?’ asked the girl.

‘Making ornaments for the bride of the Dark King against her espousals,’ replied the goldsmiths.

‘Making ornaments for the bride of the Dark King for her wedding,’ replied the goldsmiths.

A little further on was a little old hunchback sitting crosslegged, and patching an old torn coat with a heap of other worn-out clothes lying about him.

A little farther along, there was an old hunchback sitting cross-legged and mending a worn-out coat, surrounded by a pile of other ragged clothes scattered around him.

‘What are you doing?’ asked the maiden.

‘What are you doing?’ asked the young woman.

‘Mending the rags for the girl to go away in who was to have been the bride of the Dark King,’ replied the little old hunchback.

‘Fixing the rags for the girl who was supposed to marry the Dark King,’ replied the little old hunchback.

Beyond the room where this was going on was a passage, and at the end of this a door, which she also pushed open. It gave entrance to a room where, on a bed, the Dark King lay asleep.

Beyond the room where this was happening was a hallway, and at the end of it was a door, which she also pushed open. It led into a room where, on a bed, the Dark King lay sleeping.

‘This is the time to apply the stiletto my sisters gave me,’ thought the maiden. ‘I shall never have so good a chance again. They said he was a horrid old enchanter; let me see if he looks like one.’

‘This is the time to use the stiletto my sisters gave me,’ thought the young woman. ‘I’ll never have a better chance than this. They said he was a terrible old magician; let me see if he really looks like one.’

So saying she took one of the tapers from a golden bracket and held it near his face. It was true enough; his skin was black, his hair was grizly and rough, his features crabbed and forbidding.

So saying, she took one of the candles from a golden holder and held it close to his face. It was definitely true; his skin was dark, his hair was grizzly and coarse, and his features were harsh and unwelcoming.

‘They’re right, there’s no doubt. It were better the earth were rid of him, as they say,’ she said within herself; and, steeling herself with this reflection, she plunged the knife into his breast.

‘They’re right, there’s no doubt. It would be better if the earth were rid of him, as they say,’ she said to herself; and, strengthening her resolve with this thought, she plunged the knife into his chest.

But as she wielded the weapon with the right hand, the left, in which she held the lighted taper, wavered, and some of the scalding wax fell on the forehead of the Dark King. The dropping of the wax3 woke him; and [104]when he saw the blood flowing from his breast, and perceived what she had done, he said sadly,

But as she swung the weapon with her right hand, her left hand, which held the lit candle, shook, and some of the hot wax dripped onto the Dark King's forehead. The falling wax woke him; and [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] when he saw the blood running from his chest and realized what she had done, he said sadly,

‘Why have you done this? I meant well by you and really loved you, and thought if I fulfilled all you desire, you would in time have loved me. But it is over now. You must leave this place, and go back to be again what you were before.’

‘Why did you do this? I had good intentions and truly cared about you. I thought that if I gave you everything you wanted, you’d eventually love me in return. But it’s over now. You need to leave this place and return to how you were before.’

Then he called servants, and bade them dress her again in her poor chicory-gatherer’s dress, and send her up to earth again; and it was done. But as they were about to lead her away, he said again,

Then he called the servants and instructed them to put her back in her shabby chicory-gatherer’s dress and send her back to Earth; and they did as he asked. But just as they were about to take her away, he spoke again,

‘Yet one thing I will do. Take these three hairs; and if ever you are in dire distress and peril of life with none to help, burn them, and I will come to deliver you.’

‘But there’s one thing I’ll do. Take these three hairs; and if you ever find yourself in serious trouble and in danger for your life with no one to help, burn them, and I will come to rescue you.’

Then they took her back to the dining-hall, where the staircase was seen as at the first, and when they touched the ceiling, it opened, and they pushed her through the opening, and she found herself in the place where she had been picking chicory on the day that she first found the Dark King’s palace.

Then they took her back to the dining hall, where the staircase looked the same as before, and when they touched the ceiling, it opened up. They pushed her through the opening, and she found herself in the spot where she had been picking chicory on the day she first discovered the Dark King’s palace.

Only as they were leading her along, she had considered that it might be dangerous for her, a young girl, to be wandering about the face of the country alone, and she had, therefore, begged the servants to give her a man’s clothes instead of her own; and they gave her the worn-out clothes that she had seen the little old hunchback sitting crosslegged to mend.

Only as they were guiding her along did she think it might be risky for her, a young girl, to be wandering around the country alone. So, she asked the servants to give her a man's clothes instead of her own; they handed her the ragged clothes she had seen the little old hunchback sitting cross-legged to repair.

When she found herself on the chicory-bed it was in the cold of the early morning, and she set off walking towards her parents’ cottage. It was about midday when she arrived, and all the family were taking their meal. Poor as it was, it looked very tempting to her who had tasted nothing all the morning.

When she found herself on the chicory bed, it was early morning and cold. She started walking toward her parents’ cottage. It was around noon when she arrived, and the whole family was having their meal. Although it was a simple meal, it looked very appealing to her since she hadn't eaten anything all morning.

‘Who are you?’ cried the mother, as she came up to the door. [105]

‘Who are you?’ shouted the mother as she approached the door. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘I’m your own child, your youngest daughter. Don’t you know me?’ cried the forlorn girl in alarm.

‘I’m your own child, your youngest daughter. Don’t you recognize me?’ cried the distressed girl in alarm.

‘A likely joke!’ laughed out the mother; ‘my daughter comes to see me in a gilded coach with prancing horses!’

‘What a joke!’ laughed the mother; ‘my daughter comes to see me in a fancy coach with prancing horses!’

‘Had you asked for a bit of bread in the honest character of a beggar,’ pursued the father, ‘poor as I am, I would never have refused your weary, woebegone looks; but to attempt to deceive with such a falsehood is not to be tolerated;’ and he rose up, and drove the poor child away.

‘If you had asked for a bit of bread genuinely, like a beggar,’ the father continued, ‘even though I’m poor, I would never have turned away from your tired, sad eyes; but trying to trick me with such a lie won’t be accepted;’ and he stood up and sent the poor child away.

Protests were vain, for no one recognised her under her disguise.

Protests were pointless because no one recognized her in her disguise.

Mournful and hopeless, she wandered away. On, on, on, she went, till at last she came to a palace in a great city, and in the stables were a number of grooms and their helpers rubbing down horses.

Mournful and hopeless, she wandered away. On, on, on, she went, until she finally arrived at a palace in a big city, where in the stables, several grooms and their helpers were grooming horses.

‘Wouldn’t there be a place for me among all these boys?’ asked the little chicory-gatherer, plaintively. ‘I, too, could learn to rub down a horse if you taught me.’

‘Wouldn’t there be a place for me among all these boys?’ asked the little chicory-gatherer, sadly. ‘I could also learn to groom a horse if you showed me how.’

‘Well, you don’t look hardly strong enough to rub down a horse, my lad,’ answered the head-groom; ‘but you seem a civil-spoken sort of chap, so you may come in; I dare say we can find some sort of work for you.’

‘Well, you don’t look strong enough to rub down a horse, kid,’ replied the head groom; ‘but you seem like a polite guy, so you can come in; I’m sure we can find some kind of work for you.’

So she went into the stable-yard, and helped the grooms of the palace.

So she went into the stable yard and helped the palace grooms.

But every day the queen stood at a window of the palace where she could watch the fair stable-boy, and at last she sent and called the head-groom, and said to him, ‘What are you doing with that new boy in the stable-yard?’

But every day the queen stood at a palace window where she could watch the handsome stable boy, and finally she sent for the head groom and asked him, ‘What are you doing with that new guy in the stable yard?’

The head-groom said, ‘Please your Majesty he came and begged for work, and we took him to help.’

The head groom said, ‘Please, Your Majesty, he came and asked for work, and we took him on to help.’

Then the queen said, ‘He is not fit for that sort of work, send him to me.’

Then the queen said, ‘He’s not suited for that kind of work, bring him to me.’

So the chicory-gatherer was sent up to the queen, and [106]the queen gave her the post of master of the palace, and appointed a fine suite of apartments and a dress becoming the rank, and was never happy unless she had this new master of the palace with her.

So the chicory-gatherer was sent to meet the queen, and [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] the queen made her the master of the palace, provided her with a beautiful set of rooms and an outfit fitting for her new position, and was never happy unless she had this new master of the palace by her side.

Now the king was gone to the wars, and had been a long time absent. One day the queen said to the master of the palace that very likely the king would not come back, so that it would be better they should marry.

Now the king had gone off to war and had been away for a long time. One day, the queen told the master of the palace that it was very likely the king wouldn’t return, so it would be better if they got married.

Then the poor chicory-gatherer was sadly afraid that if the queen discovered that she was a woman she would lose her fine place at the palace, and become a poor beggar again without a home; so she said nothing of this, but only reasoned with the queen that it was better to wait and see if the king did not come home. But as she continued saying this, and at the same time never showed any wish that the king might not come back, or that the marriage might take place, the queen grew sorely offended, and swore she would be avenged.

Then the poor chicory-gatherer was really worried that if the queen found out she was a woman, she would lose her great position at the palace and become a homeless beggar again. So she kept quiet about it and tried to convince the queen that it was better to wait and see if the king would come back. However, as she kept saying this and never showed any sign that she wanted the king not to return or that the marriage should happen, the queen became very offended and vowed she would get her revenge.

Not long after, the king really did come back, covered with glory, from the wars. Now was the time for the queen to take her revenge.

Not long after, the king actually returned, covered in glory, from the wars. Now was the moment for the queen to get her revenge.

Choosing her opportunity, therefore, at the moment when the king was rejoicing that he had been permitted to come back to her again, with hypocritical tears she said,

Choosing her moment wisely, just as the king was celebrating his return to her, she said with feigned tears,

‘It is no small mercy, indeed, that your Majesty has found me again here as I am, for it had well-nigh been a very different case.’

‘It’s truly a great relief, Your Majesty, that you’ve found me here as I am, because it almost turned out very differently.’

The king was instantly filled with burning indignation, and asked her further what her words meant.

The king was immediately filled with intense anger and asked her what she meant by her words.

‘They mean,’ replied the queen, ‘that the master of the palace, on whom I had bestowed the office only because he seemed so simple, as you too must say he looks, presumed on my favour, and would have me marry him, urging that peradventure the king, who had been so long absent at the wars, might never return.’ [107]

‘They mean,’ replied the queen, ‘that the master of the palace, whom I had appointed to the position only because he appeared so naive, as you must also admit he looks, took my kindness for granted and proposed that I marry him, suggesting that perhaps the king, who has been away for so long fighting in the wars, might never come back.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

The king started to his feet at the words, placing his hand upon his sword in token of his wrath; but the queen went on:

The king jumped to his feet at those words, putting his hand on his sword to show his anger; but the queen continued:

‘And when he found that I would not listen to his suit, he dared to assume a tone of command, and would have compelled me to consent; so that I had to call forth all my courage, and determination, and dignity, to keep him back; and had the King’s Majesty not been directed back to the palace as soon as he was, who knows where it might have ended!’

‘And when he realized that I wouldn't agree to his proposal, he had the audacity to act like he was in charge and tried to force me to say yes; so I had to summon all my courage, determination, and dignity to hold him off; and if the King hadn't been sent back to the palace as quickly as he was, who knows how it might have turned out!’

It needed no more. The king ordered the master of the palace to be instantly thrown into prison, and appointed the next day for him to be beheaded.

It didn't need anything else. The king ordered the head of the palace to be thrown into prison right away and scheduled his execution for the next day.

The chicory-gatherer was ready enough now to protest that she was a woman. But it helped nothing; they only laughed. And who could stand against the word of the queen?

The chicory-gatherer was fully prepared to insist that she was a woman. But it didn’t make any difference; they just laughed. And who could argue against the queen's word?

Next day, accordingly, the scaffold was raised, and the master of the palace was brought forth to be beheaded, the king and the queen, and all the court, being present.

Next day, the scaffold was set up, and the master of the palace was brought out to be executed, with the king, the queen, and all the court in attendance.

When the chicory-gatherer, therefore, found herself in dire need and peril of life, she took out one of the hairs the Dark King had given her, and burnt it in the flame of a torch. Instantly there was a distant roaring sound as of a tramp of troops and the roll of drums. Everyone started at the sound, and the executioner stayed his hand.

When the chicory-gatherer found herself in urgent danger and at risk of losing her life, she pulled out one of the hairs the Dark King had given her and burned it in the flame of a torch. Instantly, a distant roaring sound echoed like the march of troops and the beating of drums. Everyone jumped at the noise, and the executioner paused his hand.

Then the maiden burnt the second hair, and instantly a vast army surrounded the whole place; round the palace they marched and up to the scaffold, and so to the very throne of the king. The king had now something to think of besides giving the signal for the execution, and the headsman stayed his hand.

Then the young woman burned the second strand of hair, and immediately a huge army surrounded the entire area; they marched around the palace and up to the scaffold, all the way to the king's throne. Now the king had something to consider other than signaling for the execution, and the executioner stopped his hand.

Then the maiden burnt the third hair, and instantly the Dark King himself appeared upon the scene, clothed [108]in shining armour, and fearful in majesty and might. And he said to the king,

Then the young woman burned the third hair, and suddenly the Dark King himself appeared, dressed [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] in shining armor, striking in his majesty and power. And he spoke to the king,

‘Who are you that you have given over my wife to the executioner?’

‘Who are you to hand my wife over to the executioner?’

And the king said,

And the king said,

‘Who is thy wife that I should give her to the executioner?’

‘Who is your wife that I should hand her over to the executioner?’

The Dark King, taking the master of the palace by the hand, said,

The Dark King, taking the palace master by the hand, said,

‘This is my wife. Touch her who dares!’

‘This is my wife. Touch her if you dare!’

Then the king knew that it had been true when the master of the palace had alleged that she was not guilty of the charge the queen had brought against her, being a woman; and seeing clearly what had been the malice of the queen, he ordered the executioner to behead her instead, but the chicory-gatherer he gave up to the Dark King.

Then the king realized that it was true when the palace master claimed that she wasn’t guilty of the accusation the queen made against her because she was a woman; and seeing clearly the queen’s malice, he ordered the executioner to behead her instead, while he handed the chicory-gatherer over to the Dark King.

Then the Dark King said to the chicory-gatherer,

Then the Dark King said to the chicory-gatherer,

‘I came at your bidding to defend you, and I said you were my wife to save your life; but whether you will be my wife or not depends on you. It is for you to say whether you will or not.’

‘I came at your request to defend you, and I said you were my wife to save your life; but whether you choose to be my wife or not is up to you. It's for you to decide whether you will or not.’

Then the maiden answered,

Then the girl answered,

‘You have been all goodness to me; ungrateful indeed should I be did I not, as I now do, say “yes.”’

‘You have been so good to me; I would be really ungrateful if I didn’t say “yes” like I am right now.’

As soon as she said ‘yes,’ the earth shook, and she was no longer standing on a scaffold, but before an altar in a splendid cathedral, surrounded by a populous and flourishing city. By her side stood the Black King, but black no longer. He was now a most beautiful prince; for with all his kingdom he had been under enchantment, and the condition of his release had been that a fair maiden should give her free consent to marry him.4 [109]

As soon as she said ‘yes,’ the ground shook, and she was no longer on a scaffold but in front of an altar in a beautiful cathedral, surrounded by a thriving city. Next to her stood the Black King, but he was no longer black. He had transformed into a stunning prince; for he had been under a spell with his entire kingdom, and the only way to break it was for a fair maiden to willingly agree to marry him. 4 [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Il Rè Moro.’ ↑

1 'The Black King.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Moro’ does not necessarily mean a Moor, it is continually used for any dark-complexioned person; also commonly for dark or black, as a pet name for a black dog, &c. ↑

2 ‘Moro’ doesn’t just mean a Moor; it’s often used to refer to anyone with dark skin. It’s also frequently used to describe something dark or black, like a nickname for a black dog, etc. ↑

3 The ‘moccolaio.’ ↑

3 The 'moccolaio.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4 The narrator ended this story with the following stanza:—

4 The narrator wrapped up this story with the following stanza:—

Si faceva le nozze

Si faceva il matrimonio

Con pane e tozze,

With bread and crusts,

E polla vermiciosa,

E polla vermicosa,

E viva la sposa!

And long live the bride!

This is one of those rough verses with which such stories abound, and they have been rendered rougher than they originally were by substituting words which serve to retain the jingle after those conveying the sense are forgotten, like many of our own nursery-rhymes. The literal rendering of this one would be, ‘So the marriage was celebrated with bread and hunches of bread, and a chicken stuffed with vermicelli. Long live the bride!’ ‘Vermiciosa’ is not a dictionary word; ‘vermicoloso’ is the nearest, and probably a corruption of the same. Of course, primarily it means ‘full of worms;’ but as all the forms of words compounded out of the diminutive of ‘verme,’ a worm, may be applied to the fine kind of maccaroni which bears the same name, I am more inclined to think a fowl stuffed or served up with maccaroni is meant here—if it have any meaning at all beyond the purpose of a rhyme—rather than ‘a wormy fowl,’ the literal interpretation.

This is one of those rough verses common in these kinds of stories, and they’ve become even rougher by swapping out words that keep the rhyme alive even after the meaning is forgotten, like many of our own nursery rhymes. Literally, this one would be, ‘So the marriage was celebrated with bread and pieces of bread, and a chicken stuffed with vermicelli. Long live the bride!’ ‘Vermiciosa’ isn’t a real word; ‘vermicoloso’ is the closest, and probably a variation of it. It primarily means ‘full of worms’; however, since all the variations made from the diminutive of ‘verme,’ which means a worm, can refer to a fancy kind of macaroni that shares the same name, I’m more inclined to think a chicken stuffed or served with macaroni is what’s meant here—if it has any meaning at all beyond just being a rhyme—rather than ‘a wormy chicken,’ the literal interpretation.

I have met this same ‘tag’ again and again in the mouths of various narrators at the end of stories which end in a marriage. Another such, familiarly used by every Roman narrator, is:—

I have encountered this same 'tag' repeatedly in the words of different storytellers at the conclusion of tales that end in marriage. Another one, commonly used by every Roman storyteller, is:—

‘Stretta la foglia,

‘Tighten the leaf,

Larga la via (often, ‘Stretta la via’),

Larga la via (often, 'Stretta la via'),

Dite la vostra, Larga la foglia,

Dite la vostra, Larga la foglia,

Ch’ ho detto la mia.’

"I said my piece."

(‘Narrow the leaf, broad the way. Tell me your tale, for I’ve told you mine.’) Perhaps originally it was ‘Larga la voglia’ (my willingness is ample, but my means of amusing you are restricted). ↑

(‘Narrow the leaf, broad the way. Tell me your story, because I’ve shared mine with you.’) Maybe it started as ‘Larga la voglia’ (my desire is great, but my ability to entertain you is limited). ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

MONSU MOSTRO.1

There was a father who had three daughters, and when all trades failed, he said he would go and gather chicory, and called his daughters to go with him. But it was a wet day, and they begged to be left at home; so he went alone.

There was a dad who had three daughters, and when all his plans didn’t work out, he decided to go gather chicory and asked his daughters to come with him. But it was a rainy day, and they begged him to let them stay home, so he went by himself.

He went out into the fields till he came to a place where was the biggest plant of chicory that ever was seen. ‘That will do for me,’ he said, and began to pull it up. [110]Up it came by the root and left a hole in the ground, and a voice came up through the hole, and said, ‘Who’s there?’

He walked out into the fields until he reached a spot with the largest chicory plant he had ever seen. "This will be perfect for me," he said as he started to pull it up. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]It came up with the roots, leaving a hole in the ground, and a voice emerged from the hole, asking, "Who's there?"

‘Friends!’2 answered the chicory-gatherer; and then One sprang up through the hole on to the ground. This was Monsu Mostro. The poor man was rather frightened at his aspect, but he dared say nothing.

‘Friends!’2 replied the chicory-gatherer; and then One jumped up through the hole onto the ground. This was Monsu Mostro. The poor man was a bit scared by his appearance, but he didn’t say anything.

‘Come along with me,’ said Monsu Mostro and the poor man followed till they came to a palace in the Campagna, where he gave him a horse to ride home upon and a heap of money. ‘I give you all this,’ said Monsu Mostro; ‘but you must give me one of your daughters in return.’ The poor man was too frightened to refuse, so he said he would.

‘Come with me,’ said Monsu Mostro, and the poor man followed until they reached a palace in the Campagna, where he gave him a horse to ride home and a pile of money. ‘I’m giving you all this,’ said Monsu Mostro; ‘but you have to give me one of your daughters in exchange.’ The poor man was too scared to refuse, so he agreed.

When he came home all his three daughters came jumping round him with delight at seeing him come home riding on horseback. ‘Papa! papa!3 where have you been?’ And when they saw what a lot of money he had brought home, their questions increased tenfold. But, in spite of his riches, the chicory-gatherer did not seem in good spirits. He did not know how to announce that he had to take one of his daughters to Monsu Mostro, and so he was very slow at answering their inquiries. It was not till next morning that he made up his mind to break this dreadful matter; and then, when the time had come for him to go forth, and there was no putting it off any longer, he made a great effort and said at last, ‘I have found a husband for one of you; which shall it be?’

When he got home, all three of his daughters jumped around him, excited to see him come back on horseback. “Dad! Dad! 3 where have you been?” And when they saw how much money he had brought back, their questions multiplied rapidly. But even with his newfound wealth, the chicory-gatherer didn’t seem happy. He didn’t know how to tell them that he had to take one of his daughters to Monsu Mostro, so he took his time answering their questions. It wasn’t until the next morning that he decided to confront this terrible situation; and when the moment finally arrived for him to go out, and he couldn’t delay it any longer, he took a deep breath and finally said, “I’ve found a husband for one of you; which one will it be?”

‘Not I!’ said the eldest; ‘I’m not going to marry a husband whom I haven’t seen. Oibo!’

‘Not me!’ said the eldest; ‘I’m not going to marry a guy I haven’t even met. Ugh!’

‘Not I!’ said the second. ‘I’m not going to marry a husband whom I haven’t seen. Oibo!’

‘Not me!’ said the second. ‘I’m not going to marry a husband I haven’t met. Oibo!’

‘Take me, papa! take me! I’ll go!’ said the youngest. So the father remounted the horse, and put her behind him. Thus they arrived at the palace of Monsu Mostro, and knocked. [111]

‘Take me, Dad! Take me! I’ll go!’ said the youngest. So the father got back on the horse and put her behind him. They reached the palace of Monsu Mostro and knocked. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Who’s there?’ said a voice within.

‘Who’s there?’ said a voice from inside.

‘Friends!’ answered the father; and they were shown in.

‘Friends!’ replied the father; and they were let in.

‘Here’s my daughter, as I promised,’ said the father.

‘Here’s my daughter, just like I promised,’ said the father.

‘All right!’ said Monsu Mostro; and, giving him another large sum of money, sent him away.

‘All right!’ said Monsu Mostro; and, giving him another big chunk of money, sent him on his way.

When the father was gone, he said to the girl, ‘I’m not going to marry you as your father thought. I want you to do the service of the house. But mind when there is anyone here you always call me “papa.”’

When the father left, he said to the girl, ‘I’m not going to marry you like your father thought. I want you to help out around the house. But remember, whenever there are guests here, you always call me “papa.”’

The girl promised to do as she was bid, and soon after there was a knock at the door, and some hunters who had got belated in the Campagna came to seek hospitality.

The girl promised to do what she was told, and soon after there was a knock at the door. Some hunters who had gotten lost in the Campagna came to ask for a place to stay.

‘Let them in, set supper before them; and give them a change of clothes,’ said Monsu Mostro; and the girl did as she was bid. While they were at supper one of the huntsmen kept looking at her, for she was a beautiful girl, and afterwards he asked her if she would marry him, for he was the king’s son. ‘Oh, shouldn’t I like it!’ said the girl, ‘but you must ask papa.’ The prince asked Monsu Mostro, and as he made no objection, he went and fetched a great cortège, and took her to the palace to marry her. As she was going away Monsu Mostro gave her a comb, wrapped up in paper, and said, ‘Take care of this, and don’t forget you have got it.’ The girl was too full of her happiness to pay much heed, but she put it in her bosom and went away.

“Let them in, set the table for dinner, and give them a change of clothes,” said Monsu Mostro. The girl followed his instructions. While they were eating, one of the huntsmen kept staring at her because she was beautiful, and later he asked if she would marry him since he was the king’s son. “Oh, I would love that!” the girl replied, “but you should ask my dad.” The prince asked Monsu Mostro, and since he had no objections, he arranged a grand funeral procession and took her to the palace to marry her. As she was leaving, Monsu Mostro gave her a comb wrapped in paper and said, “Take care of this, and don’t forget you have it.” The girl was too overwhelmed with happiness to pay much attention, but she tucked it into her bosom and left.

As she drove along, a pair of horns like a cow’s began to grow on her head, and they had already attained a considerable size before she arrived at the royal palace. The queen was horrified at her appearance, and refused to let her come in. ‘How can it possibly be that such a beautiful girl should have all of a sudden got a pair of horns?’ said the prince. But it was no use saying anything, for there were the horns, and the queen was determined that she should not be admitted into the royal palace. [112]

As she drove along, a pair of horns like a cow's started to grow on her head, and they had already gotten pretty big by the time she reached the royal palace. The queen was shocked by her appearance and refused to let her in. "How is it possible that such a beautiful girl suddenly has a pair of horns?" the prince asked. But it didn't matter what anyone said; there were the horns, and the queen was set on not allowing her into the royal palace. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

The prince was very much distressed, and would on no account let her be turned adrift as the queen wished, but sent her to a house in the Campagna, where he sent a servant every day to ask how she was, and to take her some present, but also to observe if the horns had not perchance gone away as suddenly as they had come. But, instead of going away, they went on growing every day bigger.

The prince was really upset and refused to let her be abandoned like the queen wanted. Instead, he sent her to a house in the countryside, where he had a servant check on her every day and bring her gifts, while also keeping an eye out to see if the horns had disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared. But instead of going away, the horns kept getting bigger every day.

In the meantime the queen sent a servant out with three little puppy-dogs in a basket, saying that whoever trained them best should marry the prince. One of these the servant brought to her, and the two others to two other girls, who were princesses, either of whom the queen would have preferred her son should marry.

In the meantime, the queen sent a servant with a basket containing three little puppies, stating that whoever trained them the best would marry the prince. The servant brought one to her, while he delivered the other two to two other girls, both of whom were princesses and whom the queen would have preferred as her son's brides.

‘Train puppy-dogs!’ said each of the other two girls. ‘I know nothing about training puppy-dogs! What can I do with them!’ and they let them get into all manner of bad habits.

‘Train puppies!’ said each of the other two girls. ‘I know nothing about training puppies! What can I do with them!’ and they let them develop all sorts of bad habits.

But she put hers in a basket and went back to the palace of Monsu Mostro, and knocked.

But she put hers in a basket and went back to the palace of Monsu Mostro, and knocked.

‘Who’s there?’ said Monsu Mostro.

‘Who’s there?’ asked Monsu Mostro.

‘It’s I!’4 answered she; and then she told him all that had befallen her, and showed him the puppy-dog in the basket. He looked at it for a moment, but would not let her in, and only cried out, ‘Go along! you ugly horned thing!’5

‘It’s me!’4 she replied. Then she recounted everything that had happened to her and showed him the puppy in the basket. He glanced at it for a moment but refused to let her in, only yelling, ‘Get lost! You ugly horned thing!’5

She went away crying; but having lifted up the cloth and peeped at the puppy-dog, she felt reassured, and sent it back by a servant to the queen.

She left crying; however, after lifting the cloth and peeking at the puppy, she felt reassured and sent it back to the queen with a servant.

When the queen uncovered the basket a beautiful little dog sprang out all of solid gold, yet it leaped about and performed all manner of tricks just as if it had been a real dog.

When the queen lifted the lid of the basket, a beautiful little dog jumped out, completely made of gold, and it bounded around, doing all sorts of tricks just like it was a real dog.

The prince was triumphant when he saw that her dog was so much better than the other two; but the queen was indignant, and said, ‘It is no dog at all, that gold [113]thing!’ and she would not allow that the girl had won the trial.

The prince felt victorious when he noticed that her dog was far better than the other two; however, the queen was furious and declared, ‘That gold [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]thing isn’t a dog at all!’ and she refused to accept that the girl had succeeded in the challenge.

After that the queen sent a servant out with three pounds of flax, and said that whoever could spin it best should marry the prince.

After that, the queen sent a servant out with three pounds of flax and declared that whoever could spin it the best would marry the prince.

‘What do I know about spinning!’ said each of the other two; and they let the flax lie without touching it.

‘What do I know about spinning!’ said each of the other two; and they left the flax untouched.

But she took hers in a basket and went to the palace of Monsu Mostro, and knocked.

But she took hers in a basket and went to the palace of Monsu Mostro, and knocked.

‘Who’s there?’ asked he.

“Who’s there?” he asked.

‘It’s I!’ she replied in her doleful voice, and told him her new difficulty. Monsu Mostro looked at the flax, but refused to admit her, and saying, ‘Away with you, you horned wretch!’ shut the door against her.

‘It’s me!’ she replied in her sad voice, and explained her new problem to him. Monsu Mostro looked at the flax, but refused to let her in, saying, ‘Get away from me, you horned wretch!’ and shut the door in her face.

This basket, too, she sent by a servant to the queen, and when the queen opened it she found it full of gold thread.

This basket, too, she had a servant deliver to the queen, and when the queen opened it, she found it filled with gold thread.

‘You must allow she has done better than the others this time!’ said the prince.

‘You have to admit she did better than the others this time!’ said the prince.

‘No! it is as bad as before,’ answered the queen; ‘it is not natural! It won’t do for me!’

‘No! It’s just as bad as before,’ replied the queen; ‘it’s not right! I can’t accept it!’

‘After that the queen sent out a notice that whichever of them had her hair growing down to her heels should marry the prince.

‘After that, the queen sent out a notice that whoever had hair growing down to their heels should marry the prince.

‘My hair does not reach down to my waist,’ said each of the other two. ‘How can I make it grow down to my heels?’

‘My hair doesn’t go down to my waist,’ said each of the other two. ‘How can I get it to grow down to my heels?’

But she went to the palace of Monsu Mostro, and knocked.

But she went to the palace of Monsu Mostro and knocked.

‘Who’s there?’ asked he.

"Who’s there?" he asked.

‘It is I!’ she replied, as dolefully as before, and told him what was required of her now.

‘It's me!’ she replied, just as sadly as before, and told him what she needed to do now.

‘You see now what it is to have paid no attention to what I told you,’ answered Monsu Mostro. ‘I told you not to forget the comb I gave you. If you had not forgotten [114]that none of this would have happened. That comb is your remedy now;’ and with that he shut the door.

‘You see now what happens when you ignore my advice,’ Monsu Mostro replied. ‘I told you not to forget the comb I gave you. If you had remembered [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]that, none of this would have happened. That comb is your solution now;’ and with that, he shut the door.

But she went home and combed her hair with the comb he had given her; and not only the horns went away, but her hair grew down quite to her heels and swept the ground. But the other two were jealous when they saw that she had beaten them in all three trials, and they came to her to ask how she made her hair grow, and she sent them to the palace of Monsu Mostro to ask.

But she went home and brushed her hair with the comb he had given her; and not only did the horns disappear, but her hair grew all the way down to her heels and touched the ground. But the other two were envious when they saw that she had outperformed them in all three challenges, and they came to her to ask how she made her hair grow, and she told them to go to the palace of Monsu Mostro to ask.

But as they only came out of jealousy, he told them to make themselves two pitch nightcaps and sleep in them; and when they got up in the morning, instead of having longer hair, all the hair they had came off.

But since they only came out of jealousy, he told them to make themselves two pitch nightcaps and sleep in them; and when they woke up in the morning, instead of having longer hair, all the hair they had came off.

But she was at length given to the prince, and they were married amid great rejoicing.

But she was eventually given to the prince, and they got married with much celebration.

[The two preceding stories represent the Roman contribution to the stories of visits to the underground world and the Bluebeard group. I have others (particularly one called ‘Il Cavolo d’ Oro’, the ‘Golden Cabbage’) more like the general run of them. The two I have selected have this difference, that in neither instance does the subterranean ruler represent the Devil. ‘Monsu Mostro,’ is most disinterested in his generosity. As usual with the Roman versions, all that is terrible is eliminated. For other versions, see Ralston, pp. 98–100; and for a somewhat similar story, the ‘Water Snake,’ p. 116. Much in the Norse, ‘East of the Sun and West of the Moon,’ is like the ‘Rè Moro;’ so is ‘The Old Dame and her Hen,’ though the later details of [115]that story are more like the Tirolean version, which I have given in ‘Laxehale’s Wives,’ in ‘Household Stories from the Land of Hofer.’ The German version given as ‘Fitchers Vogel,’ Grimm, p. 177, has more of the horrid element than any of the others. In the version of ‘Tündér Ilona’ given in Graf Mailath’s ‘Magyarische Sagen’ (a rather different version from that told me at Pesth, which I have given at p. 20–1), Prince Argilus loses his bride and her kingdom, and has to begin all his labours over again, through looking into a closed chamber which Tündér Ilona had bid him not to open in her absence. But heroic action abounds in the Hungarian tales, just as it is wanting in the Roman ones, and in this, and in many details, particularly in the enthusiasm for magic horses, they are singularly like the Gaelic.

[The two previous stories showcase the Roman contribution to tales about visits to the underground world and the Bluebeard group. I have more stories (especially one called ‘Il Cavolo d’ Oro’, the ‘Golden Cabbage’) that are more typical of those kinds of tales. The two I chose stand out because, in neither case does the underground ruler symbolize the Devil. ‘Monsu Mostro’ is genuinely generous. As usual with Roman versions, all the frightening elements are left out. For other versions, see Ralston, pp. 98–100; and for a somewhat similar tale, the ‘Water Snake,’ p. 116. Much in the Norse story, ‘East of the Sun and West of the Moon,’ resembles the ‘Rè Moro;’ so does ‘The Old Dame and her Hen,’ although the later details of that story align more with the Tirolean version that I shared in ‘Laxehale’s Wives,’ in ‘Household Stories from the Land of Hofer.’ The German version titled ‘Fitchers Vogel,’ Grimm, p. 177, contains more horror than any of the others. In the version of ‘Tündér Ilona’ presented in Graf Mailath’s ‘Magyarische Sagen’ (which is quite different from the one told to me in Pesth that I described on p. 20–1), Prince Argilus loses his bride and her kingdom, and has to restart all his efforts because he looked into a locked room that Tündér Ilona asked him not to open while she was away. However, heroic deeds are plentiful in Hungarian tales, just as they are lacking in the Roman ones, and in this, along with many details—especially the fascination with magic horses—they are remarkably similar to the Gaelic.]

The ‘Rè Moro’ is perhaps nearer ‘Beauty and the Beast’ than ‘Bluebeard.’ I had a version of this given me in the following form, under the title of ‘The Enchanted Rose-Tree.’

The ‘Rè Moro’ is probably closer to ‘Beauty and the Beast’ than to ‘Bluebeard.’ I received a version of this presented in the following way, under the title of ‘The Enchanted Rose Tree.’

1 At what period the title of honour of ‘Monsu’ got appended to the monster’s name is more than I can fix. ↑

1 I can't pinpoint exactly when the title of 'Monsu' was added to the monster's name. ↑

2 ‘Chi è?’ ‘amicè.’ See note 3, p. 187. ↑

2 “Who’s there?” “A friend.” See note 3, p. 187. ↑

3 The reader will bear in mind, in this and other places, that ‘papa’ and ‘mama’ are vernacular for ‘father’ and ‘mother’ among children of the lowest classes in Italy. ↑

3 Readers should remember that in this and other instances, 'papa' and 'mama' are informal terms for 'father' and 'mother' used by children from lower-class families in Italy. ↑

4 ‘Son’ io.’ I have generally found these stories told with a great deal of effect, especially to suit the tone to the dialogues. It was particularly the case with this one, e.g. the ‘son’ io’ was said in the lamentable tone of a person wearied with fatigue and disappointment.’ ↑

4 ‘Son’ io.’ I’ve usually noticed that these stories are told with a lot of impact, especially when matching the tone to the dialogues. This was especially true for this one; for example, the ‘son’ io’ was delivered in the sorrowful tone of someone exhausted from fatigue and disappointment.’ ↑

5 ‘Vatene, brutta cornuda!’ ↑

5 "Get lost, ugly cheat!" __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE ENCHANTED ROSE-TREE.1

They say there was once a merchant who, when he was going out to buy rare merchandise, asked his daughter what rich present he should bring home to her. She, however, would hear of nothing but only a simple rose-tree.

They say there was once a merchant who, when he was heading out to buy rare goods, asked his daughter what luxurious gift he should bring back for her. She, however, would accept nothing but a simple rosebush.

‘That,’ said her father, ‘is too easy. However, as you are bent on having a rose-tree, you shall have the most beautiful rose-tree I can find in all my travels.’

‘That,’ said her father, ‘is too easy. But since you’re determined to have a rose bush, you’ll get the most beautiful one I can find on all my journeys.’

In all his travels, however, he met with no rose-tree that he deemed choice enough. But one day, when he was walking outside the walls of his own city, he came to a garden which he had never observed before, filled with all manner of beautiful flowers.

In all his travels, though, he didn’t find a rose tree that he thought was good enough. But one day, while he was walking outside the walls of his city, he stumbled upon a garden he had never noticed before, filled with all kinds of beautiful flowers.

‘This is a wonderful garden indeed,’ said the merchant to himself; ‘I never saw it before, and yet these luxuriant plants seem to have many years’ growth in them. There must be something wonderful about them, so this is just [116]the place to look for my daughter’s rose-tree.’ In he went therefore to look for the rose-tree.

‘This is such a beautiful garden,’ the merchant thought to himself; ‘I’ve never seen it before, but these lush plants look like they’ve been growing for years. There must be something special about them, so this is definitely [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]the place to search for my daughter’s rose-tree.’ So, he went in to look for the rose-tree.

In the midst of the garden was a casino, the door of which stood open; when he went in he found a banquet spread with the choicest dishes; and though he saw no one, a kind voice invited him to sit down and enjoy himself. So he sat down to the banquet, and very much he did enjoy himself, for there was everything he could desire.2

In the middle of the garden was a casino, and the door was open. When he went inside, he found a feast laid out with the finest dishes. Even though he saw no one, a gentle voice urged him to sit down and indulge. So, he sat down at the banquet, and he really enjoyed himself because there was everything he could want. 2

When he had well eaten and drunk, he bethought him to go out again into the garden and seek a choice rose-tree.

When he had finished eating and drinking, he thought about going back out into the garden to look for a nice rose bush.

‘As the banquet was free,’ he thought to himself, ‘I suppose the flowers are free too.’

‘Since the banquet is free,’ he thought to himself, ‘I guess the flowers are free too.’

So he selected what seemed to him the choicest rose of all; while it had petals of the richest red in the world, within it was all shining gold, and the leaves too were overlaid with shining gold. This rose-tree, therefore, he proceeded to root up.

So he picked what looked to him like the best rose of all; while its petals were the deepest red in the world, inside it was all shining gold, and the leaves were also covered in shining gold. So, he went ahead and uprooted this rose bush.

A peal of thunder attended the attempt, and with a noise of rushing winds and waters a hideous monster3 suddenly appeared before him.

A loud clap of thunder accompanied the attempt, and with the sound of howling winds and roaring waters, a terrifying monster3 suddenly appeared in front of him.

‘How dare you root up my rose-trees?’ said the monster; ‘was it not enough that I gave you my best hospitality freely? Must you also rob me of my flowers, which are as my life to me? Now you must die!’

‘How dare you uproot my rose bushes?’ said the monster; ‘was it not enough that I welcomed you into my home? Must you also take away my flowers, which mean everything to me? Now you must pay with your life!’

The merchant excused himself as best he could, saying it was the very freedom of the hospitality which had emboldened him to take the rose, and that he had only ventured to take it because he had promised the prettiest rose-tree he could find to his daughter.

The merchant did his best to explain himself, saying it was the open hospitality that had encouraged him to take the rose, and that he had only dared to take it because he had promised to bring his daughter the most beautiful rose he could find.

‘Your daughter, say you?’ replied the monster. ‘If there is a daughter in the case perhaps I may forgive you; but only on condition that you bring her hither to me within three days’ time.’

‘Your daughter, you say?’ replied the monster. ‘If there’s a daughter involved, maybe I can forgive you; but that’s only if you bring her to me within three days.’

The father went home sad at heart, but within three days he kept his promise of taking his daughter to the [117]garden. The monster received them very kindly, and gave them the casino to live in, where they were well fed and lodged. At the end of eight days, however, a voice came to the father and told him he must depart; and when he hesitated to leave his daughter alone he was taken by invisible agency and turned out of the garden.

The father went home feeling really down, but within three days, he kept his promise to take his daughter to the [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]garden. The monster welcomed them warmly and offered them the casino to live in, where they were well taken care of. However, after eight days, a voice told the father he had to leave; and when he hesitated to leave his daughter behind, an invisible force picked him up and kicked him out of the garden.

The monster now often came and talked to the daughter, and he was so gentle and so kind that she began quite to like him. One day she asked him to let her go home and see her friends, and he, who refused her nothing, let her go; but begged her to promise solemnly she would come back at the end of eight days, ‘for if you are away longer than that,’ he added, ‘I know I shall die of despair.’ Then he gave her a mirror into which she could look and see how he was.

The monster often came to talk to the daughter, and he was so gentle and kind that she started to really like him. One day, she asked him if she could go home and see her friends, and he, who never denied her anything, agreed; but he asked her to promise seriously that she would come back in eight days, saying, “If you’re gone longer than that, I know I’ll die of despair.” Then he gave her a mirror so she could see how he was doing.

Thus she went home, and the time passed quickly away, and eight days were gone and she had not thought of returning. Then by accident the mirror came under her hand, and, looking into it, she saw the monster stretched on the ground as if at the point of death. The sight filled her with compunction, and she hurried back with her best speed.

Thus she went home, and time flew by, and after eight days had passed, she hadn't considered going back. Then, by chance, she came across a mirror, and looking into it, she saw the monster lying on the ground as if it were dying. The sight filled her with guilt, and she rushed back as fast as she could.

Arrived at the garden, she found the monster just as she had seen him in the mirror. At sight of her he revived, and soon became so much better that she was much touched when she saw how deeply he cared for her.

Arrived at the garden, she found the monster exactly as she had seen him in the mirror. When he saw her, he perked up, and soon got so much better that she was deeply moved by how much he cared for her.

‘And were you really so bad only because I went away?’ she asked.

‘Were you really that bad just because I left?’ she asked.

‘No, not only because you went away, for it was right you should go and see your parents; but because I began to fear you would never come back, and if you had never come back I should quite have died.’

‘No, not just because you left, though it was important for you to visit your parents; but because I started to worry that you might never return, and if you didn't come back, I honestly think I would have died.’

‘And now you are all right again?’

"Are you okay now?"

‘Yes, now you are here I am quite happy; that is, I should be quite happy if you would promise always to remain and never go away any more.’ [118]

‘Yes, now that you’re here, I’m really happy; I mean, I would be truly happy if you promised to always stay and never leave again.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Then when she saw how earnest and sincere he was in wishing her to stay, she gave her consent never to leave him more.

Then when she saw how serious and genuine he was about wanting her to stay, she agreed never to leave him again.

No sooner had she spoken the promise than in the twinkling of an eye all was changed. The monster became a handsome prince, the casino a palace, the garden a flourishing country, and each several rose-tree a city. For the prince had been enchanted by an enemy, and had to remain transformed as a monster till he should be redeemed by the love of a maiden.

No sooner had she made the promise than everything changed in an instant. The monster turned into a handsome prince, the casino became a palace, the garden turned into a thriving kingdom, and each rosebush represented a city. The prince had been cursed by an enemy and had to stay in his monster form until a maiden's love saved him.

[The three brothers who occupy so large a space in the household tales of other countries, do not seem to be popular favourites in Rome. I have come across them but seldom. There are plenty of them in the ‘Norse Tales,’ under the name of ‘Boots’ for the unexpectedly doughty brother. The Spanish romance I have given as ‘Simple Johnny and the Spell-bound Princesses,’ in ‘Patrañas,’ makes him a knight. In the Siddhi Kür story of ‘How the Schimnu Khan was Slain,’ it is three hired companions (as in some other versions), who betray the hero; and in all but this (which is its link with the usual Three-brother stories), it is a remarkably close repetition of the details of another Spanish romance, which I have given as ‘The Ill-tempered Princess,’ and this, in its turn, is like the Tirolean ‘Laxhale’s Wives’ and the Roman ‘Diavolo che prese [119]moglie.’ Compare, further, a number of instances collected by Mr. Ralston, pp. 72–80, and 260–7. In many parts of Tirol you meet a Three-brother story different from any of these. Three brothers go out to hunt chamois on a Sunday morning, and get so excited with the sport that they make themselves too late to hear Mass, and get turned into stone, or some other dreadful punishment. The younger brother, who has all along urged them to go down, but has been overruled by the others, is involved in the same punishment. There are three peaks on the Knie Pass, leading from Tirol to Salzburg, called ‘The Three Brothers,’ from such a legend.]

[The three brothers who feature prominently in the folklore of other countries don't seem to be as popular in Rome. I've only come across them a few times. They're abundant in the ‘Norse Tales,’ under the name of ‘Boots’ for the surprisingly brave brother. The Spanish story I have mentioned as ‘Simple Johnny and the Spell-bound Princesses,’ in ‘Patrañas,’ turns him into a knight. In the Siddhi Kür tale of ‘How the Schimnu Khan was Slain,’ there are three hired companions (as in some other versions) who betray the hero; and aside from this (which connects it to the usual Three-brother stories), it closely resembles details from another Spanish romance I've called ‘The Ill-tempered Princess,’ which also has similarities to the Tirolean ‘Laxhale’s Wives’ and the Roman ‘Diavolo che prese [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]moglie.’ Additionally, you can compare many examples gathered by Mr. Ralston, pp. 72–80, and 260–7. In various parts of Tirol, you find a different Three-brother story. Three brothers set out to hunt chamois on a Sunday morning, and they get so caught up in the excitement that they miss Mass, resulting in them being turned into stone or facing some other terrible consequence. The younger brother, who has always encouraged them to go down but has been ignored by the others, suffers the same fate. There are three peaks on the Knie Pass, which connects Tirol to Salzburg, known as ‘The Three Brothers,’ due to this legend.]

1 ‘La Rosa fatata.’ ↑

1 ‘The Enchanted Rose.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 According to the narrator, there was a dish of ‘pasta’ heaped up like a mountain; and ‘souplis di riso con rigaglie’ and ‘capone con contorni,’ and several kinds of wine. I give this description verbally, as it was given to me, as characteristic of the local colouring such legends receive. The dishes named are the favourites of the Roman middle class. ‘Pasta’ is the Roman equivalent for the ‘maccaroni’ of the Neapolitan. ‘Rigaglie’ is the liver, &c., of poultry minced, to put into the fried balls of rice. ‘Contorni’ means something more than ‘garnish,’ being something put round the dish, not merely for ornament, but more or less substantial, to be eaten with it, as sausages round a turkey. ↑

2 According to the narrator, there was a dish of ‘pasta’ piled high like a mountain; and ‘souplis di riso con rigaglie’ and ‘capone con contorni,’ along with several different types of wine. I share this description as it was relayed to me, as it reflects the local flavor that such legends often acquire. The dishes mentioned are favorites among the Roman middle class. ‘Pasta’ is the Roman version of the ‘maccaroni’ found in Naples. ‘Rigaglie’ refers to the minced liver and other poultry parts used in the fried rice balls. ‘Contorni’ means more than just ‘garnish’; it refers to substantial sides that accompany the main dish, not just for decoration, but to be eaten together, like sausages served with turkey. ↑

3 The word used in this place was ‘mostro,’ not ‘orco,’ marking a distinct idea in the tradition, where it is the Principle of Evil himself who is intended, and where, an unfortunate mortal subjected by malice to his influence. ↑

3 The term used here was ‘mostro,’ not ‘orco,’ highlighting a specific concept in the tradition, where it refers to the Principle of Evil itself and where an unlucky mortal is subjected to his harmful influence. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

SCIOCCOLONE.1

Once upon a time there were three brothers, who were woodmen; their employment was not one which required great skill, and they were none of them very clever, but the youngest was the least brilliant of all. So simple was he that all the neighbours, and his very brothers—albeit they were not so very superior in intelligence themselves—gave him the nickname of ‘Scioccolone,’ the great simpleton, and accordingly Scioccolone he was called wherever he went.

Once upon a time, there were three brothers who worked as woodcutters. Their job didn't require much skill, and none of them were particularly bright, but the youngest brother was the least clever of all. He was so simple that all the neighbors, including his own brothers—who weren't much smarter themselves—called him ‘Scioccolone,’ which means the big simpleton. So, everywhere he went, people referred to him as Scioccolone.

Every day these three brothers went out into the woods to their work, and every evening they all came home, each staggering under his load of wood, which he carried to the dealer who paid them for their toil: thus one day of labour passed away just like another in all respects. So it went on for years.

Every day, the three brothers went into the woods to work, and every evening they returned home, each struggling under a load of wood, which they took to the dealer who paid them for their hard work: thus, one day of labor passed just like another in every way. This continued for years.

Nevertheless, one day came at last which was not at all like the others, and if all days were like it the world would be quite upside down, or be at least a very different world from what it is. Oimè! that such days never occur now at all! Basta, this is what happened. It was in the noontide heat of a very hot day, the three simple brothers [120]committed the imprudence of going out of the shelter of the woods into the wold beyond, and there, lying on the grass in the severest blaze of the burning sun, they saw three beautiful peasant girls lying fast asleep.

Nevertheless, one day eventually arrived that was nothing like the others, and if every day were like it, the world would be turned completely upside down, or at least a very different place than it is now. Oimè! how sad it is that such days never happen anymore! Basta, here’s what happened. It was during the intense heat of a really hot day when the three simple brothers [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] made the mistake of leaving the safety of the woods and stepping out into the open field. There, sprawled on the grass under the blazing sun, they spotted three beautiful peasant girls peacefully asleep.

‘Only look at those silly girls sleeping in the full blaze of the sun!’ cried the eldest brother.

‘Just look at those silly girls sleeping in the bright sun!’ shouted the oldest brother.

‘They’ll get bad in their heads in this heat,’ said the second.

‘They’ll go crazy in this heat,’ said the second.

But Scioccolone said: ‘Shall we not get some sticks and boughs, and make a little shed to shelter them?’

But Scioccolone said, "Shouldn't we grab some sticks and branches to make a little shelter for them?"

‘Just like one of Scioccolone’s fine ideas!’ laughed the eldest brother scornfully.

‘Just like one of Scioccolone’s great ideas!’ laughed the oldest brother mockingly.

‘Well done, Scioccolone! That’s the best thing you’ve thought of this long while. And who will build a shed over us while we’re building a shed for the girls, I should like to know?’ said the second.

‘Well done, Scioccolone! That’s the best idea you’ve had in a long time. And who’s going to build a shed over us while we’re making a shed for the girls, I wonder?’ said the second.

But Scioccolone said: ‘We can’t leave them there like that; they will be burnt to death. If you won’t help me I must build the shed alone.’

But Scioccolone said, “We can't just leave them like that; they'll burn to death. If you won’t help me, I guess I’ll have to build the shed by myself.”

‘A wise resolve, and worthy of Scioccolone!’ scoffed the eldest brother.

‘A smart decision, and fitting for Scioccolone!’ scoffed the oldest brother.

‘Good-bye, Scioccolone!’ cried the second, as the two elder brothers walked away together. ‘Good-bye for ever! I don’t expect ever to see you alive again, of course.’

‘Goodbye, Scioccolone!’ shouted the second, as the two older brothers walked away together. ‘Goodbye forever! I don’t expect to see you alive again, of course.’

And they never did see him again, but what it was that happened to him you shall hear.

And they never saw him again, but you'll find out what happened to him.

Without waiting to find a retort to his brothers’ gibes, Scioccolone set to work to fell four stout young saplings, and to set them up as supports of his shed in four holes he had previously scooped with the aid of his bill-hook; then he rammed them in with wedges, which he also had to cut and shape. After this he cut four large bushy branches, which he tied to the uprights with the cord he used for tying up his faggots of logs; and as the shade of these was scarcely close enough to keep out all the fierce rays of the sun, he went back to the wood and collected all [121]the large broad leaves he could find, and came back and spread them out over his leafy roof. All this was very hard labour indeed when performed under the dreaded sun, and just in the hours when men do no work; yet so beautiful were the three maidens that, when at last he had completed his task, he could not tear himself away from them to go and seek repose in the shade of the wood, but he must needs continue standing in the full sun gazing at them open-mouthed.

Without waiting to come up with a response to his brothers' teasing, Scioccolone got to work cutting down four sturdy young saplings and setting them up as supports for his shed in four holes he had dug out using his bill-hook. He then secured them with wedges, which he also had to cut and shape. After that, he cut four large bushy branches and tied them to the uprights with the cord he used to bundle his logs. Since the shade they provided wasn't enough to block out all the harsh sunlight, he returned to the woods and gathered all the large, broad leaves he could find, then came back and spread them over his leafy roof. All this was really hard work, especially under the hot sun and during the times when people usually rested; yet the three maidens were so beautiful that once he finished his task, he couldn't bring himself to leave them and seek shade in the woods—he just stood there in the full sun, staring at them in awe.

At last the three beautiful maidens awoke, and when they saw what a fragrant shade had refreshed their slumbers they began pouring out their gratitude to their devoted benefactor.

At last, the three beautiful maidens woke up, and when they saw what a fragrant shade had refreshed their sleep, they started expressing their gratitude to their devoted benefactor.

Do not run at hasty conclusions, however, and imagine that of course the three beautiful maidens fell in love on the spot with Scioccolone, and he had only to pick and choose which of them he would have to make him happy as his wife. A very proper ending, you say, for a fairy tale. It was not so, however. Scioccolone looked anything but attractive just then. His meaningless features and uncouth, clownish gait were never at any time likely to inspire the fair maidens with sudden affection; but just then, after his running hither and thither, his felling, digging, and hammering in the heat of the day, his face had acquired a tint which made it look rougher and redder and more repulsive than anyone ever wore before.

Do not jump to conclusions and assume that the three beautiful maidens instantly fell in love with Scioccolone, thinking he could just choose one to make his wife. You might say that’s a fitting ending for a fairy tale, but that wasn’t the case. Scioccolone didn’t look appealing at all in that moment. His bland features and awkward, clumsy movements were never going to spark sudden affection in the lovely maidens; and right then, after all the running around, cutting down trees, digging, and hammering in the heat, his face had taken on a color that made it look rougher, redder, and more off-putting than anyone could imagine.

Besides this, the three maidens were fairies, who had taken the form2 of beautiful peasant girls for some reason of their own.

Besides this, the three maidens were fairies who had taken the form of beautiful peasant girls for reasons of their own.

But neither did they leave his good deed unrewarded. By no means. Each of the three declared she would give him such a precious gift that he should own to his last hour that they were not ungrateful. So they sat and thought what great gift they could think of which should be calculated to make him very happy indeed.

But they definitely didn't leave his good deed unrewarded. Not at all. Each of the three said she would give him such a valuable gift that he would cherish it for the rest of his life, showing that they were not ungrateful. So they sat and brainstormed what amazing gift they could come up with that would truly make him very happy.

At last the first of the three got up and exclaimed that [122]she had thought of her gift, and she did not think anyone could give him a greater one; for she would promise him he should one day be a king.

At last, the first of the three stood up and declared that [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]she had come up with her gift, and she believed no one could offer him anything greater; because she would guarantee that he would one day become a king.

Wasn’t that a fine gift!

Wasn’t that a great gift!

Scioccolone, however, did not think so. The idea of his being a king! Simple as he was, he could see the incongruity of the idea, and the embarrassment of the situation. How should he the poor clown, everybody’s laughingstock, become a king? and if he did, kingship had no attractions for him.

Scioccolone, however, didn’t see it that way. The thought of him being a king! As simple as he was, he could grasp how ridiculous it sounded and how awkward the situation was. How could he, the poor clown and everyone's joke, actually become a king? And even if he did, there was nothing appealing about being a king to him.

He was too kind-hearted, however, to say anything in disparagement of the well-meant promise, and too straightforward to assume a show of gratitude he did not feel; so after the first little burst of hilarity which he was not sufficiently master of himself to suppress, he remained standing open-mouthed after his awkward manner.

He was too kind-hearted to say anything negative about the well-intentioned promise and too honest to pretend to be grateful when he wasn’t feeling it; so after the initial burst of laughter he couldn’t fully control, he stood there with his mouth open in his usual awkward way.

Then the second fairy addressed him and said:—

Then the second fairy spoke to him and said:—

‘I see you don’t quite like my sister’s gift; but you may be sure she would not have promised it if it had not been a good gift, after you have been so kind to us; and when it comes true, it will somehow all turn out very nice and right. But now, meantime, that I may not similarly disappoint you with my gift by choosing it for you, I shall let you choose it for yourself; so say, what shall it be?’

‘I see you’re not really a fan of my sister’s gift; but you can be sure she wouldn’t have promised it if it wasn’t a good one, especially after you’ve been so kind to us. And when it finally happens, it will somehow all turn out really nice and right. But for now, so that I don’t let you down with my gift by picking it for you, I’ll let you choose it yourself; so tell me, what do you want it to be?’

Scioccolone was almost as much embarrassed with the second fairy’s permission of choosing for himself as he had been with the first fairy’s choice for him. First he grinned, and then he twisted his great awkward mouth about, and then he grinned again, till, at last, ashamed of keeping the fairies waiting so long for his answer, he said, with another grin:—

Scioccolone felt just as awkward with the second fairy's offer to choose for himself as he had with the first fairy's choice for him. He first smiled, then struggled to find the right words, and smiled again, until finally, embarrassed for making the fairies wait so long for his response, he said, with another smile:—

‘Well, to tell you what I should really like, it would be that when I have finished making up my faggot of logs this evening, instead of having to stagger home [123]carrying it, it should roll along by itself, and then I get astride of it, and that it should carry me.’

‘Well, to tell you what I would really like, it would be that when I finish gathering my bundle of logs this evening, instead of having to struggle home [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] carrying it, it should roll along by itself, and then I could hop on it, and it would carry me.’

‘That would be fine!’ he added, and he grinned again as he thought of the fun it would be to be carried home by the load of logs instead of carrying the load as he had been wont.

‘That would be great!’ he added, and he grinned again as he imagined how much fun it would be to be carried home by the load of logs instead of having to carry it himself like he usually did.

‘Certainly! That wish is granted,’ replied the second fairy readily. ‘You will find it all happen just as you have described.’

‘Of course! That wish is granted,’ said the second fairy eagerly. ‘You’ll see it all unfold just as you’ve described.’

Then the third fairy came forward and said:—

Then the third fairy stepped up and said:—

‘And now choose; what shall my gift be? You have only to ask for whatever you like and you shall have it.’

‘And now choose; what should my gift be? Just ask for anything you want, and you will get it.’

Such a heap of wishes rose up in Scioccolone’s imagination at this announcement, that he could not make up his mind which to select; as fast as he fixed on one thing, he remembered it would be incomplete without some other gift, and as he went on trying to find some one wish that should be as comprehensive as possible, he suddenly blurted out—

Such a bunch of wishes popped up in Scioccolone’s mind at this announcement that he couldn’t decide which to choose; every time he settled on one thing, he remembered it would be missing something else, and as he kept trying to find one wish that would cover everything, he suddenly blurted out—

‘Promise me that whatever I wish may come true; that’ll be the best gift; and so if I forget a thing one moment I can wish for it the next. That’ll be the best gift to be sure!’

‘Promise me that whatever I wish for can come true; that would be the best gift. If I forget something one moment, I can just wish for it the next. That would definitely be the best gift!’

‘Granted!’ said the third fairy. ‘You have only to wish for anything and you will find you get it immediately, whatever it is.’

‘Granted!’ said the third fairy. ‘You just have to wish for anything, and you'll see that you get it right away, no matter what it is.’

The fairies then took leave and went their way, and Scioccolone was reminded by the lengthening shades that it was time he betook himself to complete his day’s work. Scarcely succeeding in collecting his thoughts, so dazzled and bewildered was he by the late supernatural conversation, he yet found his way back to the spot where he had been felling wood.

The fairies then said their goodbyes and went on their way, and Scioccolone was reminded by the growing shadows that it was time for him to finish his day’s work. Struggling to gather his thoughts, still dazzled and confused by the recent supernatural conversation, he eventually made his way back to where he had been cutting wood.

‘Oh, dear! how tired I am!’ he said within himself as he walked along. ‘How I wish the wood was all felled and the faggots tied up!’ and though he said this [124]mechanically as he might have said it any other day of his life, without thinking of the fairy’s promise, which was, indeed, too vast for him to put it consciously to such a practical test then, full of astonishment as he was, yet when he got back to his working-place the wood was felled and laid in order, and tied into a faggot in the best manner.

‘Oh man! I’m so tired!’ he thought to himself as he walked. ‘I really wish the wood was all cut down and the bundles tied up!’ He said this [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]almost automatically, like he would on any other day, not thinking about the fairy’s promise, which was just too overwhelming for him to really consider practically at that moment. But when he got back to his work area, the wood was cut down, organized, and bundled up perfectly.

‘Well to be sure!’ soliloquised Scioccolone. ‘The girls have kept their promise indeed! This is just exactly what I wished. And now, let’s see what else did I wish? Oh, yes; that if I got astride on the faggot it should roll along by itself and carry me with it; let’s see if that’ll come true too!’

‘Well, for sure!’ Scioccolone thought to himself. ‘The girls really kept their promise! This is exactly what I wanted. Now, let’s see what else did I wish for? Oh, right; that if I got on the log, it would roll by itself and take me with it; let’s see if that will come true too!’

With that he got astride on the faggot, and sure enough the faggot moved on all by itself, and carried Scioccolone along with it pleasantly enough.

With that, he got on the bundle of sticks, and sure enough, the bundle moved on its own and carried Scioccolone along with it quite comfortably.

Only there was one thing Scioccolone had forgotten to ask for, and that was power to guide the faggot; and now, though it took a direction quite contrary to that of his homeward way, he had no means of inducing it to change its tack. After some time spent in fruitless efforts in schooling his unruly mount, Scioccolone began to reason with himself.

Only there was one thing Scioccolone had forgotten to ask for, and that was the power to control the faggot; and now, although it was heading in a direction completely opposite to his way home, he had no way to make it change course. After spending some time trying unsuccessfully to train his rebellious mount, Scioccolone started to think things through.

‘After all, it does not much matter about going home. I only get laughed at and called “Scioccolone.” Maybe in some other place they may be better, and as the faggot is acting under the orders of my benefactress, it will doubtless all be for the best.’

‘After all, going home doesn’t really matter. I just get laughed at and called “Scioccolone.” Maybe things will be better somewhere else, and since the faggot is following my benefactress's orders, it’s probably all for the best.’

So he committed himself to the faggot to take him wherever it would. On went the faggot surely and steadily, as if quite conscious where it had to go; and thus, before nightfall, it came to a great city where were many people, who all came out to see the wonder of the faggot of logs moving along by itself, and a man riding on it.

So he committed himself to the bundle of sticks to take him wherever it would. The bundle moved steadily and confidently, as if it knew exactly where to go; and so, before night fell, it arrived at a big city with many people, all of whom came out to witness the spectacle of the bundle of logs moving on its own, with a man riding on it.

In this city was a king, who lived in a palace with an only daughter. Now this daughter had never been known [125]to laugh. What pains soever the king her father took to divert her were all unavailing; nothing brought a smile to her lips.

In this city, there was a king who lived in a palace with his only daughter. This daughter had never been known [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]to laugh. No matter how hard the king, her father, tried to entertain her, nothing could bring a smile to her face.

Now, however, when all the people ran to the windows to see a man riding on a faggot, the king’s daughter ran to look out too; and when she saw the faggot moving by itself, and the uncouth figure of Scioccolone sitting on it, and heard all the people laughing at the sight, then the king’s daughter laughed too; laughed for the first time in her life.

Now, when everyone rushed to the windows to see a man riding on a bundle of sticks, the king's daughter hurried to look out as well. When she saw the bundle moving on its own and the strange figure of Scioccolone sitting on it, and heard everyone laughing at the sight, the king's daughter laughed too; it was the first time she had ever laughed in her life.

But Scioccolone passing under the palace, heard her clear and merry laugh resounding above the laughter of all the people, he looked up and saw her, and when he saw her looking so bright and fair he said within himself:—

But Scioccolone passing under the palace heard her clear and cheerful laugh ringing out above the laughter of the crowd. He looked up and saw her, and when he saw her looking so bright and lovely, he said to himself:—

‘Now, if ever the fairy’s power of wishing is to be of use to me, I wish that I might have a little son, and that the beautiful princess should be the mother.’ But he did not think of wishing to stop there that he might look at her, so the faggot carried him past the palace and past all the houses into the outskirts of the city, till he got tired and weary, and just then passing a wood merchant’s yard, the thought rose to his lips,—

‘Now, if there was ever a time the fairy’s wishing power could help me, I wish for a little son, and that the beautiful princess would be his mother.’ But he didn’t think to wish for anything more so he could see her, so the bundle of sticks took him past the palace and all the houses to the edge of the city, until he got tired and worn out, and just then, passing a wood merchant’s yard, the thought came to his lips,—

‘I wish that wood merchant would buy this faggot of me!’

‘I wish that wood merchant would buy this bundle of sticks from me!’

Immediately the wood merchant came out and offered to buy the faggot, and as it was such a wonderful faggot, that he thought Scioccolone would never consent to sell it, he offered him such a high price that Scioccolone had enough to live on like a prince for a year.

Immediately, the wood merchant came out and offered to buy the bundle of sticks, and since it was such an amazing bundle, he thought Scioccolone would never agree to sell it. So, he offered him such a high price that Scioccolone had enough to live like a prince for a year.

After a time there was again a great stir in the city, everyone was abroad in the streets whispering and consulting. To the king’s daughter was born a little son, and no one knew who the father was, not even the princess herself. Then the king sent for all the men in the city, and brought them to the infant, and said, ‘Is this your father?’ but the babe said ‘No!’ to them all. [126]

After a while, there was another big buzz in the city; everyone was out in the streets whispering and talking. The princess had given birth to a baby boy, and nobody knew who the father was, not even the princess herself. Then the king called all the men in the city and brought them to the baby, asking, “Is this your father?” but the baby responded “No!” to all of them. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Last of all, Scioccolone was brought, and when the king took him up to the babe and said, ‘Is this your father?’ the babe rose joyfully from its cradle and said, ‘Yes; that is my father!’ When the king heard this and saw what a rough ugly clown Scioccolone was, he was very angry with his daughter, and said she must marry him and go away for ever from the palace. It was all in vain that the princess protested she had never seen him but for one moment from the top of the palace. The babe protested quite positively that he was his father; so the king had them married, and sent them away from the palace for ever; and the babe was right, for though Scioccolone and the princess had never met, Scioccolone had wished that he might have a son, of whom she should be the mother, and by the power of the spell3 the child was born.

Last of all, Scioccolone was brought in, and when the king held him up to the baby and asked, ‘Is this your father?’ the baby happily got up from its crib and said, ‘Yes; that’s my father!’ When the king heard this and saw what a rough, ugly clown Scioccolone was, he got very angry with his daughter and said she had to marry him and leave the palace forever. The princess insisted that she had only seen him for a moment from the top of the palace. The baby insisted quite firmly that he was his father; so the king had them married and sent them away from the palace forever; and the baby was right, because even though Scioccolone and the princess had never met, Scioccolone had wished to have a son, of whom she should be the mother, and through the power of the spell3 the child was born.

Scioccolone was only too delighted with the king’s angry decree. He felt quite out of place in the palace, and was glad enough to be sent away from it. All he wanted was to have such a beautiful wife, and he willingly obeyed the king’s command to take her away, a long, long way off.

Scioccolone was thrilled with the king’s angry order. He felt really uncomfortable in the palace and was more than happy to be sent away from it. All he wanted was to have a beautiful wife, and he gladly followed the king’s command to take her far, far away.

The princess, however, was quite of a different mind. She could not cease from crying, because she was given to such an uncouth, clownish husband that no tidy peasant wench would have married.

The princess, on the other hand, felt completely differently. She couldn't stop crying because she was stuck with such a rough, goofy husband that no neat village girl would have married him.

When, therefore, Scioccolone saw his beautiful bride so unhappy and distressed, he grew distressed himself; and in his distress he remembered once more the promise of the fairy, that whatever he wished he might have, and he began wishing away at once. First he wished for a pleasant villa,4 prettily laid-out, and planted, and walled; then, a casino5 in the midst of it, prettily furnished, and having plenty of pastimes and diversions; then, for a farm, well-stocked with beasts for all kinds of uses; for carriages and servants, for fruits and flowers, [127]and all that can make life pleasant. And when he found that with all these things the princess did not seem much happier than before, he bethought himself of wishing that he might be furnished with a handsome person, polished manners, and an educated mind, altogether such as the princess wished. All his wishes were fulfilled, and the princess now loved him very much, and they lived very happily together.

When Scioccolone saw his beautiful bride so unhappy and upset, he felt upset himself; and in his distress, he remembered the fairy's promise that he could have whatever he wished for, so he started wishing right away. First, he wished for a nice villa, nicely landscaped, planted, and walled; then, a casino in the middle of it, nicely furnished, with lots of activities and entertainment; next, for a farm stocked with animals for all kinds of needs; for carriages and servants, for fruits and flowers, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]and everything that could make life enjoyable. And when he saw that with all these things the princess still didn't seem much happier than before, he thought about wishing for a handsome appearance, polished manners, and an educated mind, exactly what the princess wanted. All his wishes came true, and the princess loved him very much, and they lived happily together.

After they had been living thus some time, it happened one day that the king, going out hunting, observed this pleasant villa on the wold, where heretofore all had been bare, unplanted, and unbuilt.

After they had been living like this for a while, one day the king went out hunting and noticed this charming villa on the hillside, where before everything had been empty, unplanted, and undeveloped.

‘How is this!’ cried the king; and he drew rein, and went into the villa intending to inquire how the change had come about.

‘What is this!’ shouted the king; and he pulled back on the reins and went into the villa, planning to ask how the change had happened.

Scioccolone came out to meet him, not only so transformed that the king never recognised him, but so distinguished by courtesy and urbanity, that the king himself felt ashamed to question him as to how the villa had grown up so suddenly. He accepted his invitation to come and rest in the casino, however; and there they fell to conversing on a variety of subjects, till the king was so struck with the sagacity and prudence of Scioccolone’s talk, that when he rose to take leave, he said:

Scioccolone came out to meet him, so changed that the king didn’t even recognize him, but so refined and polite that the king felt embarrassed to ask how the villa had sprung up so quickly. He did accept the invitation to relax in the casino, though, and there they began talking about various topics until the king was so impressed by Scioccolone’s wise and careful words that when he stood up to leave, he said:

‘Such a man as you I have long sought to succeed me in the government of the kingdom. I am growing old and have no children, and you are worthy in all ways to wear the crown. Come up, therefore, if you will, to the palace and live with me, and when I die you shall be king.’

‘A man like you is exactly who I've been looking for to take over the kingdom. I'm getting old and don’t have any children, and you’re more than deserving of the crown. So, if you’re willing, come to the palace and live with me, and when I pass away, you will be king.’

Scioccolone, now no longer feeling himself so ill-adapted to live in a palace, willingly consented, and a few days after, with his wife and his little son, he went up to the palace to live with the king.

Scioccolone, feeling less out of place in a palace than before, agreed without hesitation. A few days later, he moved into the palace with his wife and their little son to live with the king.

But the king’s delight can scarcely be imagined when he found that the wife of the polished stranger was indeed his very own daughter. [128]

But the king's joy can hardly be imagined when he discovered that the wife of the refined stranger was actually his own daughter. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

After a few years the old king died, and Scioccolone reigned in his stead. And thus the promises of all the three fairies were fulfilled.

After a few years, the old king passed away, and Scioccolone took over his reign. And so, the promises of all three fairies were kept.

[Among the Italian-Tirolese tales is one called ‘I tre pezzi rari’ (The Three Rare Things), which begins just like ‘Scioccolone,’ and then the fairies give the three gifts of a dinner-providing table-cloth, an exhaustless purse, and a resistless cudgel, which we so often meet with, as in Grimm’s ‘Tischchen deck dich,’ p. 142; Campbell’s ‘Three Soldiers,’ i. p. 176–93, who refers to numerous other versions, in which other incidents of the two next succeeding tales occur. The Spanish version I have given by the name of ‘Matanzas’ in ‘Patrañas.’

[Among the Italian-Tirolese tales is one called ‘Three rare pieces’ (The Three Rare Things), which starts just like ‘Silly person.’ In this story, fairies grant three gifts: a tablecloth that provides endless dinners, a never-ending purse, and an unbeatable cudgel. These gifts appear frequently, as seen in Grimm’s ‘Table set yourself,’ p. 142; and Campbell’s ‘Three Soldiers,’ i. p. 176–93, which refers to many other versions where elements from the following two stories also appear. The Spanish version I have provided is called ‘Matanzas’ in ‘Patrañas.’

In the Roman version of the ‘Dodici palmi di naso,’ it is singular that it is the second and not the youngest son who is the hero. There is another Italian-Tirolese story, entitled ‘Il Zufolotta,’ in which only one boy and two fairies are concerned, and they only give him the one gift of the Zufoletto, which, instead of supplying every wish as in ‘Dodici palmi di naso,’ has the power of the Zauberflöte, the pipe of the ‘Pied Piper,’ and kindred instruments in all times and countries, so that, when it has got its possessor into such trouble that he is condemned to be executed, it answers the same end as the cudgel, liberating its master by setting the judge and executioner dancing, instead of by thumping them.] [129]

In the Roman version of the ‘Dodici palmi di naso,’ it’s interesting that it’s the second son, not the youngest, who becomes the hero. There’s another Italian-Tirolese story called ‘Il Zufolotta,’ which features only one boy and two fairies. They grant him just one gift: the Zufoletto. Unlike in ‘Twelve palms of nose,’ which fulfills every wish, the Zufoletto has powers similar to the Zauberflöte, the pipe of the ‘Pied Piper,’ and other instruments throughout history and cultures. So, when its owner finds himself in deep trouble and sentenced to execution, it works like the cudgel, freeing him by making the judge and executioner dance instead of hitting them.] [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Sciocco,’ a simpleton; ‘scioccolone,’ a great awkward simpleton. ↑

1 ‘Sciocco,’ a fool; ‘scioccolone,’ a totally clumsy fool. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 Even in this story, where the fairies really are described as fair to see, it will be observed it is only said they had assumed the forms of beautiful girls for one occasion, not that they were necessarily beautiful, like our fairies. ↑

2 Even in this story, where the fairies are actually described as lovely, it’s noted that they only took on the appearance of beautiful girls for one occasion, not that they were inherently beautiful like our fairies. ↑

3 ‘Fatatura,’ the virtue of enchantment. ↑

3 'Fatatura,' the enchantment quality. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4 ‘Villa’ is more often used to express a little estate—or, as we should say, the ‘grounds’ on which a country-house stands—than for the house itself, though we have borrowed the word exclusively in the latter sense. ↑

4 'Villa' is now more commonly used to refer to a small estate—or, as we might say, the 'grounds' where a country house is located—rather than the house itself, even though we've generally taken the term to mean the latter. ↑

5 ‘Casino’ a tasteful little house. ↑

5 ‘Casino’ is a stylish little place. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

TWELVE FEET OF NOSE.1

There was a poor old father, who was very poor indeed, and very old. When he came to die, he called his three sons round his bed, and said they must summon a notary to make his will. The sons looked at each other, and thought he was doating. He repeated his desire, and then one of them ventured to say:

There was a really poor old father who was truly very old and struggling financially. When he was close to death, he gathered his three sons around his bed and told them they needed to call a notary to write his will. The sons exchanged glances, thinking he was losing his mind. He insisted on his wish, and then one of them finally spoke up:

‘But father, dear, why should we go to the expense of calling in a notary; there is not a single thing on earth you have to leave us!’

‘But Dad, why should we spend money on a notary? You don’t have anything to leave us!’

But the old man told them again to call a notary, and still they hesitated, because they thought the notary would say they were making game of him.

But the old man told them again to call a notary, and still they hesitated, because they thought the notary would say they were messing around.

At last the old man began to get angry when he found they would not do as he said, and, just not to vex him in his last moments, they called the notary, and the notary brought his witnesses.

At last, the old man started to get angry when he realized they weren't going to do what he said, and just to avoid upsetting him in his final moments, they called the notary, who brought his witnesses.

Then the father was content, and called them all to his bedside.

Then the father was happy and called them all to his bedside.

‘Now, pull out the old case under the bed, and take out what you find there.’

‘Now, grab the old case from under the bed and take out whatever you find in there.’

They found an old broken hat, without a brim, a ragged purse that was so worn you could not have trusted any money in its keeping, and a horn.2

They found an old, broken hat without a brim, a tattered purse that was so worn you couldn't trust any money in it, and a horn.2

These three things he bequeathed in due form of law, one to each of his sons; and it was only because they saw that the man was in his death agony that those who were called to act as witnesses could keep from laughing. To the notary, of course, it was all one whether it was an old hat or a new one, his part was the same, and when he had done what was needful, he went his way, and the witnesses went with him; but as they went out, they said one to another: [130]

These three things he legally passed down, one to each of his sons; and the only reason the witnesses managed to hold back their laughter was because they saw the man was in his death throes. For the notary, it didn’t matter whether it was an old hat or a new one, his job remained the same, and after he did what was necessary, he left, and the witnesses went with him; but as they exited, they commented to each other: [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Poor old man! perhaps it is a comfort to him in his last moments to fancy he has got something to leave.’

‘Poor old man! Maybe it's a comfort for him in his final moments to imagine he has something to leave behind.’

When they were all gone, as the three sons were standing by, very sad, and looking at each other, not knowing what to make of the strange scene, he called the eldest, to whose portion the hat had fallen, and said:

When everyone had left, the three sons stood together, feeling very sad and looking at one another, unsure of what to make of the strange situation. He called the oldest, to whom the hat had been assigned, and said:

‘See what I’ve given you.’

"Check out what I've given you."

‘Why, father!’ answered he, ‘it isn’t even good enough to bind round one’s knee when one goes out hoeing!’

‘Why, dad!’ he replied, ‘it's not even good enough to wrap around your knee when you're out hoeing!’

But the father answered:

But the dad replied:

‘I wouldn’t let you know its value till those people were gone, lest any should take it from you; this is its value, that if you put it on, you can go in to dine at whatever inn you please, or sit down to drink at what wineshop you please, and take what you like and drink what you like, for no one will see you while you have it on.’

‘I wouldn’t let you know its value until those people are gone, so no one can take it from you; its value is that if you wear it, you can go dine at any inn you want or sit down at any bar you like, and have whatever you want to eat or drink, because no one will see you while you have it on.’

Then he called his second son, to whose lot the purse had fallen, and he said:

Then he called his second son, to whom the purse had been given, and he said:

‘See what I have given you.’

‘Look at what I’ve given you.’

‘Why, father!’ answered the son, ‘it isn’t even good enough to keep a little tobacco in, if I could afford to buy any!’

‘Why, dad!’ replied the son, ‘it’s not even good enough to hold a bit of tobacco in, if I could actually afford to buy any!’

But the father answered:

But the dad replied:

‘I wouldn’t tell you its value till those people were gone, lest any should take it from you; but this is its value; if you put your fingers in, you’ll find a scudo there, and after that another, and another, as many as ever you will; there will always be one.’

‘I wouldn’t tell you its worth until those people are gone, so no one takes it from you; but this is what it’s worth: if you reach in, you’ll find a scudo there, and then another, and another, as many as you want; there will always be one.’

Then he called his youngest son, and said:

Then he called his youngest son and said:

‘See what I have given you.’

‘Look at what I’ve given you.’

And he answered:

And he replied:

‘Yes, father, it’s a very nice horn; and when I am starving hungry I can cheat myself into being content by playing on it.’ [131]

‘Yes, Dad, it’s a really nice horn; and when I’m very hungry, I can trick myself into being okay by playing it.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Silly boy!’ answered the father; ‘that is not its use. I wouldn’t tell you its value while those people were here, lest they should take it from you. Its value is this, that whenever you want anything you have only to sound it, and one will come who will bring whatever you want, be it a dinner, a suit of clothes, a palace, or an army.’

‘Silly boy!’ replied the father; ‘that’s not its purpose. I wouldn’t tell you what it’s worth while those people were around, in case they try to take it from you. Its worth is that whenever you want something, all you have to do is sound it, and someone will come and bring you whatever you desire, whether it’s dinner, a suit of clothes, a palace, or an army.’

After this the father died, and each found himself well provided with the legacy he had given him.

After that, the father passed away, and each of them discovered they were well taken care of with the inheritance he had given them.

It happened that one day as the second son3 was passing under the window of the palace a waiting-maid looked out and said: ‘Can you play at cards?’

It happened that one day as the second son3 was walking under the palace window, a maid looked out and asked, “Can you play cards?”

‘As well as most,’ answered the youth.

'Most of them too,' replied the young man.

‘Very well, then; come up,’ answered the waiting-maid; ‘for the queen wants some one to play with her.’

‘Alright, then; come up,’ replied the waiting maid; ‘because the queen wants someone to play with her.’

Very readily he went up, therefore, and played at cards with the queen, and when he had played all the evening he had lost fifty scudi.

Very quickly, he went up and played cards with the queen, and by the end of the evening, he had lost fifty scudi.

‘Never mind about paying the fifty scudi,’ said the queen, as he rose to leave. ‘We only played to pass away the time, and you don’t look by your dress as if you could afford fifty scudi.’

‘Don’t worry about paying the fifty scudi,’ said the queen as he stood to leave. ‘We were just playing to pass the time, and by the looks of your outfit, you don’t seem like you can afford fifty scudi.’

‘Not at all!’ replied the youth. ‘I will certainly bring the fifty scudi in the morning.’

‘Not at all!’ replied the young man. ‘I will definitely bring the fifty scudi in the morning.’

And in the morning, by putting his fingers fifty times into the ragged purse, he had the required sum, and went back with it to the palace and paid the queen.

And in the morning, by reaching into the torn purse fifty times, he got the amount he needed and returned to the palace to give it to the queen.

The queen was very much astonished that such a shabby-looking fellow should have such command of money, and determined to find out how it was; so she made him stay and dine. After dinner she took him into her private room and said to him:

The queen was really surprised that such a scruffy-looking guy had so much money, and decided to find out how that was possible; so she asked him to stay for dinner. After dinner, she took him into her private room and said to him:

‘Tell me, how comes it that you, who are but a shabby-looking fellow, have such command of money?’

‘Tell me, how is it that you, who look so shabby, have such control over money?’

‘Oh!’ answered he quite unsuspectingly, ‘because my father left me a wonderful purse, in which is always a scudo.’ [132]

‘Oh!’ he replied, completely unaware, ‘because my dad gave me an amazing purse that always has a scudo in it.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Nonsense!’ answered the queen. ‘That is a very pretty fable, but such purses don’t exist.’

‘Nonsense!’ replied the queen. ‘That’s a nice story, but those kinds of purses don’t exist.’

‘Oh, but it is so indeed,’ answered the youth.

'Oh, but it really is,' replied the young man.

‘Quite impossible,’ persisted the queen.

"Totally impossible," insisted the queen.

‘But here it is; you can see for yourself!’ pursued the incautious youth, taking it out.

‘But here it is; you can see for yourself!’ pursued the careless young man, pulling it out.

The queen took it from him as if to try its powers, but no sooner was she in possession of it than she called in the guard to turn out a fellow who was trying to rob her, and give him a good beating.

The queen took it from him, as if to test its powers, but as soon as she had it, she called in the guard to throw out a guy who was trying to rob her and to give him a good beating.

Indignant at such treatment, the youth went to his eldest brother and begged his hat of him that he might, by its means, go and punish the queen.

Indignant at such treatment, the young man went to his oldest brother and asked him for his hat so that he could use it to go and punish the queen.

Putting on the hat he went back to the palace at the hour of dinner and sat down to table. As soon as the queen was served he took her plate and ate up all that was in it one course after another, so that the queen got nothing, and finding it useless to call for more dishes, she gave it up as a bad job, and went into her room. The youth followed her in and demanded the return of his wonderful purse.

Putting on the hat, he returned to the palace at dinner time and sat down at the table. As soon as the queen was served, he took her plate and devoured everything on it, one dish after another, leaving the queen with nothing. Realizing it was pointless to ask for more food, she gave up and went to her room. The young man followed her in and asked for the return of his amazing purse.

‘How can I know it is you if I don’t see you?’ said the queen.

“How can I know it’s you if I can’t see you?” said the queen.

‘Never mind about seeing me. Put the purse out on the table for me and I will take it.’

‘Don’t worry about seeing me. Just put the purse on the table for me and I’ll grab it.’

‘No, I can’t if I don’t see you,’ replied the queen. ‘I can’t believe it is you unless I see you.’

‘No, I can’t if I don’t see you,’ replied the queen. ‘I can’t believe it’s you unless I see you.’

The youth fell into the snare and took off his hat.

The young man got caught in the trap and removed his hat.

‘How did you manage to make yourself invisible?’ asked the queen.

"How did you make yourself invisible?" asked the queen.

‘Just by putting on this old hat.’

‘Just by putting on this old hat.’

‘I don’t believe that could make you invisible,’ exclaimed the queen. ‘Let me try.’

“I don’t think that could make you invisible,” the queen said. “Let me try.”

And she snatched the hat out of his hand and put it on. Of course she was now in turn invisible, and he sought her in vain; but worse than that, she rang the bell [133]for the guard and bid them turn the shabby youth out and give him a bastonata.

And she grabbed the hat from his hand and put it on. Of course, she became invisible in return, and he searched for her unsuccessfully; but worse than that, she rang the bell [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] for the guards and ordered them to throw the shabby young man out and beat him.

Full of fresh indignation he ran to his youngest brother and told him all his story, begging the loan of his horn, that he might punish the queen by its means; and the brother lent it him.

Full of new anger, he ran to his youngest brother and told him everything, asking to borrow his horn so he could punish the queen with it; and the brother lent it to him.

He sounds the horn and One comes.4

He blows the horn and One arrives.4

‘I want an army with cannons to throw down the palace,’ said the youth; and instantly there was a tramp of armed men, and a rumble of artillery waggons.

‘I want an army with cannons to tear down the palace,’ said the young man; and immediately there was the sound of soldiers marching and the rumble of artillery wagons.

The queen was sitting at dinner, but when she heard all the noise she came to the window; meantime the soldiers had surrounded the palace and pointed their guns.

The queen was having dinner, but when she heard all the noise, she went to the window; meanwhile, the soldiers had surrounded the palace and aimed their guns.

‘What’s all this about! What’s the matter!’ cried the queen out of the window.

‘What’s going on? What’s the problem?’ the queen shouted from the window.

‘The matter is, that I want my purse and my hat back,’ answered the youth.

"The thing is, I want my wallet and my hat back," the young man replied.

‘To be sure! you are right; here they are. I don’t want my palace battered down, so I will give them to you.’

‘For sure! You're right; here they are. I don’t want my palace wrecked, so I’ll give them to you.’

The youth went up to receive them; but when he got upstairs he found the queen sunk half fainting in a chair.

The young man went upstairs to greet them; but when he arrived, he found the queen half-unconscious in a chair.

‘Oh! I’m so frightened; I can’t think where I put the things. Only send away that army and I’ll look for them immediately.’

‘Oh! I’m so scared; I can’t remember where I put the things. Just send that army away, and I’ll search for them right away.’

The youth sent away the army, and the queen got up and began looking about for the things.

The young man dismissed the army, and the queen stood up and started searching for her belongings.

‘Tell me,’ she said, as she wandered from one cupboard to another, ‘how did you, who are such a shabby-looking fellow, manage to call together such an army?’

‘Tell me,’ she said, as she moved from one cabinet to another, ‘how did you, looking so shabby, manage to gather such an army?’

‘Because I’ve got this horn,’ answered the youth. ‘And with it I can call up whatever I want, and if you don’t make haste and find the purse and the hat, I’ll call up the army again and batter down the palace in right earnest.’ [134]

‘Because I have this horn,’ replied the young man. ‘With it, I can summon anything I desire, and if you don’t hurry and find the purse and the hat, I’ll call the army again and seriously tear down the palace.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘You won’t make me believe that!’ replied the queen. ‘That sorry horn can’t work such wonders as that: let me try.’ And she took the horn out of his hands and sounded it and One appeared. ‘Two stout men!’ she commanded quickly; and when they came she bid them drive the shabby-looking youth out of the palace and give him a bastonata.

‘You won't convince me of that!’ replied the queen. ‘That sorry horn can't do anything like that: let me give it a try.’ And she took the horn from his hands and blew into it, and One appeared. ‘Two strong men!’ she ordered quickly; and when they arrived, she commanded them to throw the shabby-looking young man out of the palace and give him a beating.

He was now quite undone, and was ashamed to go back to his brothers. So he wandered away outside the town. After much walking he came to a vineyard, where he strolled in; and what struck him was, that though it was January, there was a fine fig-tree covered with ripe luscious figs.

He was feeling really lost and was embarrassed to return to his brothers. So he walked away from the town. After a long time walking, he came across a vineyard, where he wandered in; and what caught his attention was that, even though it was January, there was a beautiful fig tree full of ripe, luscious figs.

‘This is a godsend indeed,’ he said, ‘to a hungry man,’ and he began plucking and eating the figs. Before he had eaten many, however, he found his nose had begun to grow to a terrible size; a foot for every fig.

‘This is a real blessing,’ he said, ‘to a hungry guy,’ and he started picking and eating the figs. Before he had eaten too many, though, he noticed his nose had started to grow to an enormous size; a foot for every fig.

‘That’ll never do!’ he cried, and left off eating the figs and wandered on. Presently he came to another vineyard, where he also strolled in: there, though it was January, he saw a tree all covered with ripe red cherries. ‘I wonder what calamity will pursue me for eating them,’ he said, as he gathered them. But when he had eaten a good many he perceived that at last his luck had turned, for in proportion as he ate his nose grew less and less, till at last it was just the right size again.

‘That won’t work!’ he exclaimed, stopping his snack of figs as he wandered off. Soon, he came across another vineyard and decided to explore it too. Even though it was January, he spotted a tree full of ripe red cherries. ‘I wonder what trouble will come my way for eating these,’ he thought as he picked some. But after eating quite a few, he realized his luck had finally changed, because with each cherry he ate, his nose got smaller and smaller, until it was back to its normal size.

‘Now I know how to punish the queen,’ he said, and he filled a bottle with the juice of the cherries, and went back and gathered a basketful of figs.

‘Now I know how to get back at the queen,’ he said, and he filled a bottle with cherry juice, then went back and collected a basketful of figs.

These figs he cried under the palace window, and as he had got more dusty and threadbare with his late wanderings no one recognised him. ‘Figs in January! that is a treat!’ and they bought up the whole basketful. Then as they ate, their noses all began to grow, but the queen, as she was very greedy, ate twelve for her share, so that she had twelve feet of nose added to the length of [135]hers. It was so long that it trailed behind her on the ground as she walked along.

These figs he shouted under the palace window, and since he had become dustier and more ragged from his recent travels, no one recognized him. “Figs in January! What a treat!” they exclaimed, and they quickly bought the entire basket. As they ate, their noses all started to grow, but the queen, being quite greedy, ate twelve for herself, adding twelve feet to the length of [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]her nose. It grew so long that it trailed behind her on the ground as she walked.

Then there was a hue and cry! All the surgeons and physicians in the kingdom were sent for, but could do no good. They were all in despair, when our youth came up disguised as a foreign doctor.

Then there was a commotion! All the surgeons and doctors in the kingdom were called in, but they couldn't help. They were all in despair when our young man showed up disguised as a foreign doctor.

‘Noses! I can heal noses! whoever has got too much nose let him come to me!’

‘Noses! I can fix noses! Anyone who has too much nose, come to me!’

All the inhabitants gathered round him, and the queen called to him loudest of all.

All the residents gathered around him, and the queen called out to him the loudest.

‘The medicine I have to give is necessarily a very strong one to effect so extraordinary a cure; therefore I won’t give it to the queen’s majesty till she has seen it used on all her servants, beginning with the lowest.’

‘The medicine I need to give is really strong to achieve such an extraordinary cure; therefore, I won’t give it to the queen until she has seen it used on all her servants, starting with the lowest.’

Taking them all in order, beginning with the lowest, he gave a few drops of cherry-juice to each, and all their noses came right.

Taking them all one by one, starting with the youngest, he gave each a few drops of cherry juice, and all their noses got better.

Last of all the queen remained.

Last of all, the queen stayed.

‘The queen can’t be treated like common people,’ he said; ‘she must be treated by herself. I must go into her room with her, and I can cure her with one drop of my cordial.’

‘The queen can't be treated like everyone else,’ he said; ‘she needs to be treated individually. I must go into her room with her, and I can heal her with just one drop of my tonic.’

‘You think yourself very clever that you talk of curing with one drop of your cordial, but you’re not the only person who can work wonders. I’ve got greater wonders than yours. I’ve got a hat which makes you invisible, a purse that never is empty, and a horn that gives you everything you call for.’

‘You think you're really smart talking about curing with just one drop of your potion, but you're not the only one who can do amazing things. I've got even greater tricks than yours. I've got a hat that makes you invisible, a purse that never runs out of money, and a horn that gives you whatever you ask for.’

‘Very pretty things to talk about,’ answered the pretended doctor, ‘but such things don’t exist.’

‘Very pretty things to talk about,’ replied the fake doctor, ‘but those things don’t actually exist.’

‘Don’t they!’ said the queen. ‘There they are!’

‘Don't they!’ said the queen. ‘There they are!’

And she laid them all out on the table.

And she spread them all out on the table.

This was enough for him. Taking advantage of the lesson she had given him by her example, he quickly put on the hat, making himself invisible; after that it was easy to snatch up the other things and escape; nor could [136]anyone follow him. He lived very comfortably for the rest of his life, taking a scudo out of his purse for whatever he had to pay, and his brothers likewise got on very well with their legacies, for he restored them as soon as he had rescued them from the queen. But the queen remained for the rest of her life with TWELVE FEET OF NOSE.

This was enough for him. Taking advantage of the lesson she had taught him by her example, he quickly put on the hat, making himself invisible; after that, it was easy to grab the other things and escape; no one could follow him. He lived very comfortably for the rest of his life, pulling a scudo out of his purse for whatever he needed to pay, and his brothers also did well with their inheritances, which he returned to them as soon as he had rescued them from the queen. But the queen was left for the rest of her life with TWELVE FEET OF NOSE.

1 ‘Dodici palmi di naso,’ a nose twelve palms long. Twelve palms make a canna and a half, equal to three mètres. ↑

1 'Twelve palms of nose,' a nose twelve palms long. Twelve palms equal one and a half canna, which is about three meters. ↑

2 ‘Ciuffoletto.’ ‘What is a ‘ciuffoletto?’ I asked. ‘Much the same as a fravodo,’ the narrator answered; and I remembered that from another, in another tale, I had made out ‘fravodo’ to be a horn. ↑

2 ‘Ciuffoletto.’ ‘What’s a ‘ciuffoletto?’ I asked. ‘Pretty much like a fravodo,’ the narrator replied; and I remembered that from another story, I had figured out that ‘fravodo’ meant a horn. ↑

3 That the second of the three sons should be the hero of the story is, I think, an unusual variation. ↑

3 I think it's an unusual twist that the second of the three sons is the hero of the story. ↑

4 See Note 4, p. 146. ↑

4 See Note 4, p. 146. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

A YARD OF NOSE.1

There was once a poor orphan youth left all alone, with no home, and no means of gaining a living, and no place of shelter.

There was once a poor orphaned teenager left all alone, with no home, no way to make a living, and no place to stay.

Not knowing what to do he wandered away over the Campagna, straight on; when he had wandered all day and was ready to die of hunger and weariness, he at last saw a fig-tree covered with ripe figs.

Not knowing what to do, he wandered across the Campagna, moving straight ahead; after wandering all day and feeling like he might collapse from hunger and exhaustion, he finally spotted a fig tree laden with ripe figs.

‘There’s a godsend!’ said the poor orphan; and he set to upon the figs without ceremony. But, lo! he had scarcely eaten half-a-dozen when his nose began to feel very odd; he put his hand up to it and it felt much bigger than usual; however, he was too hungry to trouble himself about it, and he ate on. As he ate on his nose felt queerer and queerer; he put his hand up and found it was quite a foot2 long! But he was so hungry he went on eating still, and before he had done he had fully a yard of nose.

‘What a blessing!’ said the poor orphan; and he dove into the figs without hesitation. But, suddenly! he had hardly eaten half a dozen when his nose started to feel really strange; he touched it and it felt much bigger than usual; however, he was too hungry to worry about it, and he kept eating. As he ate more, his nose felt stranger and stranger; he touched it again and discovered it was nearly a foot long! But he was so hungry that he continued eating, and by the time he stopped, his nose was a full yard long.

‘A pretty thing I have done for myself now! As well might I have died of starvation as make myself [137]such an object as this! Never can I appear among civilised beings again.’ And he laid himself down to sleep, hiding himself in the foliage of the fig-tree lest anybody passing by should see his nose.

‘Look at the little mess I've gotten myself into! I might as well have starved to death than make myself [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]into something like this! I can never show my face around other people again.’ And he lay down to sleep, hiding in the leaves of the fig tree to keep anyone passing by from seeing his nose.

In the morning the first thing he thought of when he awoke was his nose; he had no need to put up his hand to feel it for it reached down to his hand, a full yard of it waggling about.

In the morning, the first thing he thought of when he woke up was his nose; he didn't need to lift his hand to touch it because it was long enough to reach his hand, a full yard of it wiggling around.

‘There’s no help for it,’ he said. ‘I must keep away from all habitable places, and live as best I may.’

‘There’s no way around it,’ he said. ‘I have to stay away from all populated areas and manage as best I can.’

So he wandered on and on over the Campagna away from all habitations, straight on; and when he had wandered all day and was ready to die of hunger and weariness he saw another fig-tree covered with ripe figs.

So he kept wandering over the Campagna, away from all settlements, going straight ahead; and when he had wandered all day and was about to collapse from hunger and exhaustion, he saw another fig tree loaded with ripe figs.

Right glad he was to see anything in the shape of food. ‘If it had only been anything else in the world but figs!’ he said. ‘If I go on at this rate I shan’t be able to carry my nose along at all! Yet starving is hard, too, and I’m such a figure now, nothing can make me much worse, so here goes!’ and he began eating at the figs without more ado.

Right glad he was to see anything that looked like food. ‘If it had only been anything else in the world but figs!’ he said. ‘If I keep this up, I won’t be able to even carry my nose around! But starving is tough, too, and I look like such a mess now that nothing can make it much worse, so here goes!’ and he started eating the figs without any hesitation.

As he ate this time, however, his nose, instead of feeling queerer and queerer as it had before, began to feel lighter and lighter.

As he ate this time, though, his nose, instead of feeling stranger and stranger as it had before, started to feel lighter and lighter.

Less, less, and still less it grew,3 till at last he had to put his hand up to feel where it was, and by the time he had done eating, it was just its natural size again.

Less and less, it shrank, 3 until finally he had to reach up to feel where it was, and by the time he finished eating, it was back to its normal size.

‘Now I know how to make my fortune!’4 he cried, and he danced for delight.

Now I know how to make my fortune!’ he shouted, and he danced with joy.

With a basketful of the figs of the first tree he trudged to the nearest town, still clad in his peasant’s dress, and cried, ‘Fine figs! fine figs! who’ll buy my beautiful ripe figs!’

With a basket full of figs from the first tree, he made his way to the nearest town, still wearing his peasant clothes, and shouted, ‘Great figs! Great figs! Who’ll buy my beautiful, ripe figs!’

All the people ran out to see the new fruit-seller, and his figs looked so tempting that plenty of people bought of him. Among the foremost was the host of the [138]inn, with his wife and his buxom daughter, and every one of them, as they ate the figs their noses began to grow and grow till everyone of them had a nose fully a yard long.

All the people rushed out to see the new fruit vendor, and his figs looked so tempting that many people bought from him. Among the first customers was the owner of the [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]inn, along with his wife and his curvy daughter. As they ate the figs, their noses started to grow and grow until each of them had a nose that was a full yard long.

Then there was a hue and cry through the whole town, everyone with his yard of nose dangling and waggling, came running out, calling, ‘Ho! Here! Wretch of a fruit-seller!’5

Then there was a big commotion throughout the entire town, everyone with their noses sticking out and wiggling, came rushing out, shouting, ‘Hey! Over here! You miserable fruit-seller!’5

But our fruit-seller had had the good sense to foresee the coming storm, and had taken care to get far out of the way of pursuit.

But our fruit seller had the good sense to anticipate the upcoming storm and made sure to get far out of the way of any pursuit.

But the next day he dressed himself like a doctor, all in black, with a long false beard, and came to the same town, where he entered the druggist’s6 shop, and gave himself out for a great doctor.

But the next day he dressed up like a doctor, all in black, with a long fake beard, and went to the same town, where he walked into the pharmacist's6 shop and claimed to be a top-notch doctor.

‘You come in good season!’ said the druggist. ‘A doctor is wanted here just now, if ever one was, for to everyone almost in the town is grown a nose7 so big! so big! in fact, a full yard of nose! Anyone who could reduce these noses might make a fortune indeed!’

‘You’ve arrived at the perfect time!’ said the druggist. ‘We really need a doctor right now, more than ever, because almost everyone in town has developed a nose—A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0—so huge! So huge! In fact, a full yard of nose! Anyone who could shrink these noses could seriously make a fortune!’

‘Why, that’s just what I excel at of all things. Let me see some of these people,’ answered our pretended doctor.

‘Why, that’s exactly what I’m best at. Let me see some of these people,’ said our fake doctor.

The druggist looked incredulous at a real remedy turning up so very opportunely; but at the same moment a pretty peasant girl came into the shop to buy some medicine for her mother; that is, she would have been pretty if it had not been for the terrible nose, which made a fright of her. The false doctor was seized with compunction when he saw what a fright his figs had made of this pretty girl, and he took out some figs of the other tree and gave her to eat, and immediately her tremendous nose grew less, and less, and less, and she was a pretty girl again. Of course it need not be said that he did not give her the figs in their natural state and form; he had peeled and pounded, and made them up with other things to disguise them. [139]

The pharmacist looked skeptical about an actual cure showing up right when it was needed; but at that moment, a pretty peasant girl entered the shop to buy some medicine for her mother. She would have been attractive if it weren't for her horrible nose, which made her look ugly. The fake doctor felt guilty when he saw how his figs had distorted this pretty girl’s appearance, so he took out some figs from a different tree and gave them to her to eat. Immediately, her enormous nose shrank smaller and smaller until she was pretty again. Of course, it goes without saying that he didn’t give her the figs as they were; he had peeled, mashed, and mixed them with other things to hide their true form. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

The druggist no sooner saw this wonderful cure than he was prompt to publish it, and there was quite a strife who should have the new doctor the first.

The pharmacist immediately recognized this amazing cure and was quick to announce it, leading to a heated competition over who would get to see the new doctor first.

It was the innkeeper who succeeded in being the first to possess himself of him. ‘What will you give me for the cure?’ said the strange doctor.

It was the innkeeper who managed to be the first to get a hold of him. ‘What will you pay me for the cure?’ asked the strange doctor.

‘Whatever you have the conscience to ask,’ replied the host, panting to be rid of the monstrosity.

‘Ask whatever you feel comfortable with,’ replied the host, eagerly wanting to be done with the nightmare.

‘Four thousand scudi apiece,’ replied the false doctor; and the host, his wife, and his buxom daughter stood in a row waiting to be cured. With the same remedy that had cured the peasant girl he cured the host first, and next his daughter. After he had cured her he said, ‘Instead of the second premium of four thousand scudi, I will take the hand of your daughter, if you like?’

‘Four thousand scudi each,’ replied the fake doctor; and the innkeeper, his wife, and his attractive daughter stood in a line waiting to be treated. Using the same method that had healed the peasant girl, he first treated the innkeeper, and then his daughter. After he finished with her, he said, ‘Instead of the second payment of four thousand scudi, how about I take your daughter’s hand in marriage?’

‘Yes, if you wish; it’s a very good idea,’ replied the host.

‘Sure, if that's what you want; it’s a really good idea,’ said the host.

‘Never, while I live!’ said the wife.

‘Never, while I’m alive!’ said the wife.

‘Why not? He’s a very good husband!’ said the host.

‘Why not? He’s a great husband!’ said the host.

‘An ugly old travelling doctor, who comes no one knows whence, to marry my daughter indeed!’ said the wife.

‘An ugly old traveling doctor, who comes from who knows where, wants to marry my daughter, really!’ said the wife.

‘I’m sure we’re under great obligations to his cleverness,’ said the husband.

“I’m sure we owe a lot to his intelligence,” said the husband.

‘Then let him be paid his price, and go about his business, and not talk impudence!’ said the wife.

‘Then let him get paid what he’s owed, and go on with his life, and stop talking back!’ said the wife.

‘But I choose that he shall marry her!’ said the husband.

‘But I want him to marry her!’ said the husband.

‘And I choose that he shan’t,’ said the wife; ‘and you’ll find that much stronger.’

‘And I choose that he won’t,’ said the wife; ‘and you’ll see that’s much stronger.’

Just then a customer came in, and the host had to go and attend upon him, and while he was gone the wife called the servants, and bade them turn the doctor out, and give him a good drubbing into the bargain, saying, ‘I’ll have some other doctor to cure me!’ [140]

Just then a customer walked in, and the host had to go serve him. While he was gone, the wife called the servants and ordered them to throw the doctor out and give him a good beating too, saying, ‘I’ll get another doctor to treat me!’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

So he left them, and went on curing people’s noses all day, till he had made a lot of money. Then he went away, but limping all the time from the beating he had received. The next day he came back dressed like a Turk, so that no one would have known him for the same man, and he came back to the same inn, saying he, too, could cure noses.

So he left them and spent the whole day treating people’s noses, making a lot of money in the process. After that, he left, but he was limping from the beating he had taken. The next day, he returned dressed like a Turk, so no one would recognize him as the same person, and went back to the same inn, claiming he could also cure noses.

The mistress of the inn gave him a hearty welcome, as she was very anxious to find another doctor who could cure her nose.

The innkeeper welcomed him warmly, as she was really eager to find another doctor who could help with her nose.

‘My treatment is effectual, but it is rude,’ said the pretended Turk. ‘I don’t know if you’ll like to submit to it.’

‘My treatment works, but it’s harsh,’ said the fake Turk. ‘I’m not sure if you’ll want to go through with it.’

‘Oh yes! Anything, whatever it may be, only to be rid of this monstrous nose,’ said the hostess.

‘Oh yes! Anything, no matter what, just to get rid of this huge nose,’ said the hostess.

‘Then you must come into a room by yourself with me,’ said the pretended Turk; ‘and I have a stick here made out of the root of a particular tree. I must thump you on the back with it, and in proportion as I thump you the nose will draw in. Of course it will hurt very much, and make you cry out, so you must tell your servants and people outside that however much you may call they are not to come in. For if they should come in and interrupt the cure, it would all have to be begun over again, and all you had suffered would go for nothing.’

‘Then you need to come into a room by yourself with me,’ said the fake Turk; ‘and I have a stick here made from the root of a special tree. I have to hit you on the back with it, and the more I hit, the more your nose will get smaller. Of course, it’s going to hurt a lot and make you cry out, so you have to tell your servants and anyone outside that no matter how much you call, they shouldn’t come in. Because if they come in and interrupt the treatment, we’ll have to start over, and everything you've gone through would be for nothing.’

So the hostess gave strict orders, saying, ‘I am going into this room with the Turk to be cured by him, and however much I may call out, or whatever I may say, mind none of you, on pain of losing your places, open the door, or come near the room.’

So the hostess made it clear, saying, ‘I'm going into this room with the Turk to be treated by him. No matter how much I call out or what I say, none of you should, under any circumstances, open the door or come near the room, or you'll lose your jobs.’

Then she took the Turk into a room apart, and shut the door. The Turk no sooner got her alone than he made her lie with her face downwards on a sofa, and then—whack, whack, whack!8 he gave her such a beating that she felt the effects of it to the end of her days.

Then she took the Turk into a separate room and closed the door. As soon as they were alone, he made her lie face down on a sofa, and then—whack, whack, whack!8 he gave her such a beating that she felt the effects of it for the rest of her life.

Of course it was in vain she screamed and roared for help; the servants had had their orders, and none of them [141]durst approach the room. It was only when she had fainted that the Turk left her alone and went his way.

Of course, it was pointless for her to scream and shout for help; the servants had their instructions, and none of them [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]dared to go near the room. It was only after she fainted that the Turk left her alone and went on his way.

But she never got her nose cured, and he married the pretty peasant girl who was the subject of his first cure.

But she never got her nose fixed, and he married the pretty peasant girl who was the focus of his first treatment.

[The two following stories contain a jumbling mixture of the incidents of the three preceding, set in a different framework; more or less mixed up with those in the stories of other countries mentioned at p. 128. Some of those in ‘The Transformation Donkey’ occur in the Siddhi Kür story of ‘The Gold-spitting Prince,’ in ‘Sagas from the Far East,’ but they are constructed into a quite different tale.]

[The next two stories are a mixed-up collection of events from the three previous ones, presented in a different setting; they also intertwine with stories from other countries referenced on p. 128. Some elements from ‘The Transformation Donkey’ appear in the Siddhi Kür story of ‘The Gold-spitting Prince’ in ‘Sagas from the Far East,’ but they are woven into a completely different narrative.]

1 ‘Mezza canna di Naso,’ half a cane of nose. A cane is the former Roman standard measure, and was exactly equal to two mètres. ↑

1 'Half a nose cone,' half a cane of nose. A cane is the old Roman standard unit of measure, which was exactly equal to two meters. ↑

2 ‘Palmo,’ was the expression used; the Canna was divided into eight palms. ↑

2 ‘Palmo’ was the term used; the Canna was divided into eight palms. ↑

3 ‘Calava, calava, calava.’ ↑

3 ‘Calava, calava, calava.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4 ‘Adesso so’ a cavallo.’ ‘Now I am on the way to fortune.’ ↑

4 ‘Now I'm riding.’ ‘Now I am on my way to success.’ ↑

5 ‘Quell’ fruttivendolo’; ‘quell’ uomo’! ‘quella donna!’ a vulgar way of calling after people. ↑

5 "That fruit seller," "that guy!" "that woman!" a crude way of calling after people. ↑

6 ‘Spezziale,’ a druggist (‘droghiere’ is a grocer). It is the custom in Rome for the doctors of the poor to sit in the druggists’ shops, ready to be called for. ↑

6 ‘Spezziale,’ a pharmacist (‘droghiere’ is a grocer). In Rome, it’s common for doctors who serve the poor to wait in pharmacies, ready to be called for. ↑

7 ‘Nasone,’ a big nose. ↑

7 ‘Big nose.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

8 ‘Pīmperte; Pāmperte! Pūmperte!’ ↑

8 ‘Pimperte; Pamperte! Pumperte!’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE CHICORY-SELLER AND THE ENCHANTED PRINCESS.1

There was a chicory-seller, with a wife and a son, all of them dying of hunger, and sleeping on the floor because they couldn’t afford a bed. Once when they went out in the morning to gather chicory, the son found such a large plant of it, never was such a plant seen, it took them an hour, working at it together, to pull it up, and it filled two great bags. What is more, when they had got it all up, there was a great hole in the ground. [142]

There was a chicory seller, with a wife and a son, all of them starving and sleeping on the floor because they couldn't afford a bed. One morning when they went out to gather chicory, the son found an enormous plant—one like they'd never seen before. It took them an hour, working together, to pull it up, and it filled two big bags. Plus, when they finally got it all out, there was a huge hole left in the ground. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘What can there be down in that hole?’ said the son. ‘I must go and see!’ In he jumped,2 and down he went.

‘What could be down in that hole?’ said the son. ‘I have to go check it out!’ He jumped in,2 and down he went.

Suddenly he found himself in the midst of a splendid palace, and a number of obsequious servants gathered round him. They all bowed to the ground, and said,

Suddenly, he found himself in the middle of a magnificent palace, and several eager servants gathered around him. They all bowed to the ground and said,

‘Your lordship! your lordship!’ and asked him what he ‘pleased to want.’

‘Your lordship! your lordship!’ and asked him what he ‘wanted.’

So there he was, dressed like a clodhopper, and all these servants dressed like princes, bowing and scraping to him.

So there he was, dressed like a country bumpkin, while all these servants were dressed like royalty, bowing and catering to him.

‘What do I want?’ said the lad; ‘most of all, I want a dinner.’

‘What do I want?’ said the boy; ‘more than anything, I just want dinner.’

Immediately they brought him a banquet of a dinner, and waited on him all the time. Dinner over, they dressed him like a prince.

Immediately, they served him a lavish dinner and attended to him the entire time. Once dinner was finished, they dressed him like a prince.

By-and-by there came in an ugly old hag, as ugly as a witch, who said,

By and by, an ugly old hag walked in, as ugly as a witch, who said,

‘Good morning, Prince; are you come to marry me?’

‘Good morning, Prince; are you here to propose to me?’

‘I’m no prince; and I’m not come to marry you most certainly!’ replied the youth.

‘I’m not a prince, and I definitely didn’t come here to marry you!’ replied the young man.

But all the servants standing round made all sorts of gesticulations that he should say ‘yes.’

But all the servants standing around were making all kinds of gestures for him to say 'yes.'

‘It’s no use mouthing at me,’ said the lad; ‘I shall never say “yes” to that!’

‘It’s pointless to shout at me,’ said the guy; ‘I will never say “yes” to that!’

But they went on making signs all round that he should say ‘yes,’ till at last they bewildered him so, that, almost without knowing what he did, he said ‘yes.’

But they kept gesturing all around for him to say ‘yes,’ until they confused him so much that, almost without realizing it, he said ‘yes.’

Directly he had said ‘yes,’ there were thunder and lightning, and thunderbolts, and meteors, and howling of wind, and storm of hail. The youth felt in great fear; but the servants said:

Directly he had said ‘yes,’ there were thunder and lightning, thunderbolts, meteors, howling wind, and a hailstorm. The young man was very scared; but the servants said:

‘It is all right. She you thought an old hag is indeed a beautiful princess of eighteen, but she was under a spell; by consenting to marry her you have ended that spell, if you can only stand through the fear of this storm [143]for three days and three nights, no harm can come to you, and we also shall all be set free.’

‘It’s all good. The old hag you thought was ugly is actually a beautiful eighteen-year-old princess, but she was under a spell. By agreeing to marry her, you’ve broken that spell. If you can just hold on through the fear of this storm [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] for three days and three nights, you’ll be safe, and we’ll all be free too.’

The whole apartment now seemed on fire, and when that ceased for a time, it seemed to rain fire all around.

The entire apartment felt like it was on fire, and when that stopped for a moment, it felt like it was raining fire everywhere.

For two days he managed to endure, but on the third day he got so frightened that he ran away. He had not much bettered his condition, however; for, if he had got away from the magic storms of the under world, he had come into real storms in the actual world, and there he was alone in the Campagna, starving and destitute again.

For two days he was able to hold on, but on the third day he got so scared that he took off. However, he hadn’t really improved his situation; because, even though he escaped the magical storms of the underworld, he found himself facing real storms in the outside world, and there he was, alone in the Campagna, starving and broke once again.

At last an old man appeared, who said to him:

At last, an old man showed up and said to him:

‘Why were you so foolish as to run away? You were told no harm could happen to you. Now you have nearly lost all. There is, however, one remedy left. Go on to the top of that high mountain, and gather the grass that grows there, and bring back a large bundle of it, and give it to these people to eat, and that will finish what you have begun. You will marry the princess, and share her kingdom; and all her people will be set free. For all those who waited on you as servants are noblemen of her court, who are under a spell.’

‘Why were you so foolish to run away? You were told that no harm would come to you. Now, you’ve almost lost everything. However, there’s still one remedy left. Go to the top of that high mountain, gather a large bundle of the grass that grows there, and bring it back for these people to eat. That will complete what you’ve started. You will marry the princess and share her kingdom, and all her people will be freed. The people who served you as servants are actually noblemen of her court, who are under a spell.’

‘How am I to get up to the top of that high mountain?’ said the youth; ‘it would take me a life of weariness to arrive there!’

‘How am I supposed to get to the top of that high mountain?’ said the young man; ‘it would take me a lifetime of struggle to get there!’

‘Take this divining-rod,’ said the old man, ‘and whatever difficulty comes in your way, touch it with this wand, and it will disappear.’

‘Take this divining rod,’ said the old man, ‘and whatever challenge you face, touch it with this wand, and it will vanish.’

The youth took the wand, and bent his steps towards the mountain. There were rivers to be crossed, and steep places to be climbed, and many perils to be encountered, but the wand overcame them all. Arrived at the top, he saw a plat of fine, long grass growing, which he made no doubt was the grass he had to take. But he thought within himself, ‘If this wand can do so much, it can surely give me also a house and a dinner; and, then, why should I toil down this mountain again at all!’ [144]

The young man took the wand and made his way toward the mountain. There were rivers to cross, steep slopes to climb, and many dangers to face, but the wand helped him conquer them all. When he reached the top, he saw a patch of beautiful, long grass growing, which he believed was what he needed to collect. However, he thought to himself, ‘If this wand can do so much, it could definitely provide me with a house and dinner; so why should I bother climbing back down this mountain at all?’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Rod! rod! give me a nice little house!’ he commanded;3 and there was a nice little house on the top of the mountain.

‘Rod! rod! give me a nice little house!’ he commanded;3 and there was a nice little house on the top of the mountain.

‘Rod! rod! give me a good dinner!’ and a good dinner was spread on the table.

‘Rod! Rod! Give me a nice dinner!’ and a nice dinner was laid out on the table.

And thus it was with everything he wanted; so he went on living on the top of the mountain, without thinking of those he had to deliver in the hole under the earth.

And so it was with everything he wanted; he continued living at the top of the mountain, without considering those he needed to rescue from the hole beneath the earth.

Suddenly, there stood the old man.4 ‘You were not sent here to amuse yourself,’ said he, severely. ‘You were sent to fetch the means of delivering others;’ and he took the wand away from him, and touched the casino, and it disappeared, and he was once more left destitute.

Suddenly, the old man appeared. 4 “You weren't sent here to have fun,” he said firmly. “You were sent to get what you need to help others.” Then he took the wand from him, touched the casino, and it vanished, leaving him empty-handed once again.

‘If you would repair the past,’ said the old man, as he went away, ‘gather even now a bundle of grass and take it, and perhaps you will be in time yet; but you will have to toil alone, for you have forfeited the rod. And now, remember this counsel: whoever meets you by the way and asks to buy that grass, sell it to no man, or you are undone.’

‘If you want to fix the past,’ the old man said as he walked away, ‘gather a bunch of grass right now and take it with you, and maybe you'll still be on time; but you’ll have to work alone because you’ve lost your chance. And now, keep this advice in mind: whoever you meet along the way who wants to buy that grass, don’t sell it to anyone, or you’re done for.’

As there was nothing else to be done, the youth set to work and cut some grass, and then terrible was the way he had to walk to get down again. Storms of fire broke continually over him, and every moment it seemed as though he would be precipitated to the bottom.

As there was nothing else to do, the young man got to work and cut some grass, and then it was a tough walk for him to get back down. Fiery storms raged around him, and every moment it felt like he would tumble to the bottom.

As he reached the plain a traveller met him.

As he arrived at the plain, a traveler encountered him.

‘Oh, you have some of that grass,’ said he. ‘I was just going up the mountain to get some. If you will give it me, and save my journey, I will give you a prancing horse, all covered with gold trappings studded with precious stones.’

‘Oh, you have some of that grass,’ he said. ‘I was just heading up the mountain to get some. If you give it to me and save me the trip, I’ll give you a showy horse, all decked out in gold with precious stones.’

But this time the youth began to pay more attention to the injunctions laid upon him, and he shook his head, and walked on.

But this time the young man started to pay more attention to the orders given to him, and he shook his head and walked on.

‘Give it me,’ continued the stranger, ‘and I will give [145]you in return for it a casino of your own in the Campagna, where you may live all your life.’

‘Give it to me,’ continued the stranger, ‘and I will give [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]you a casino of your own in the Campagna in return, where you can live your whole life.’

But the youth shook his head, and continued his way, without so much as answering him.

But the young man shook his head and kept walking, not even replying to him.

‘Give it me,’ said the stranger the third time, ‘and I will give you gold enough to make you rich all your days.’

‘Give it to me,’ said the stranger for the third time, ‘and I will give you enough gold to make you rich for the rest of your life.’

But the youth stood out the third temptation as well as the other two, and then the stranger disappeared.

But the young man resisted the third temptation just like the other two, and then the stranger vanished.

Without further hindrance he arrived at the chicory-hole, let himself down, and gave the grass to all the people to eat, who were half dead with waiting so long for him; and as they ate, the spell ceased. Only as he had cut the grass in an indolent sort of way, he had not brought so large a quantity as he ought, and there was one poor maiden left for whose deliverance the provision sufficed not.

Without any more delays, he reached the chicory-hole, lowered himself down, and handed out the grass for everyone to eat, who were half dead from waiting so long for him; and as they ate, the spell was broken. However, since he had cut the grass in a lazy manner, he hadn’t brought enough, and there was one poor girl left for whom there wasn’t enough to set her free.

Meantime the whole face of the country was changed. The plain was covered with flourishing cities; over the chicory-hole was a splendid palace, where the maiden, who had under the spell looked like an old hag, took up her abode, and where the old man had promised that he should live with her for his reward.

Meantime, the entire landscape had transformed. The plain was dotted with thriving cities; over the chicory hole stood a magnificent palace, where the young woman, who had previously appeared as an old hag under the spell, made her home, and where the old man had promised he would live with her as his reward.

This reward he now came to claim.

This is the reward he has come to claim now.

‘But you have not completed your task,’ said the princess.

‘But you haven't finished your task,’ said the princess.

‘I think I have done a pretty good deal,’ answered the youth.

‘I think I’ve made a pretty good deal,’ answered the young man.

‘But there is that one who is yet undelivered.’

‘But there is still that one who has not yet been delivered.’

‘Oh, I can’t help about one. She must manage the best way she can.’

‘Oh, I can’t do anything about one. She’ll have to figure it out the best way she can.’

‘That won’t do,’ said the princess. ‘If you want to have me, you must complete your work.’

‘That won't work,’ said the princess. ‘If you want to be with me, you need to finish what you started.’

So he had to toil all the way up to the top of the mountain, and all the way down again, and at last the work was complete. [146]

So he had to work his way up to the top of the mountain, and then back down again, and finally the job was done. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Then the princess married him, and all went wondrously well.5

Then the princess married him, and everything went incredibly well.5

1 ‘Il Cicoriaro e la Principessa fatata.’ ↑

1 ‘The Cicorian and the Enchanted Princess.’ ↑

2 ‘Fa una zompa;’ ‘zompa’ for ‘zomba,’ properly a blow, a thump; here, ‘jumped down with a noise like a thump.’ ↑

2 ‘Makes a jump;’ ‘jump’ for ‘jumped,’ meaning a hit, a thud; here, ‘jumped down with a sound like a thud.’ ↑

3 Bacchettone di comando, suits this use of it better than does the English equivalent. ↑

3 Control baton, fits this use of it better than the English equivalent does. ↑

4 ‘Ecco il vecchio!’ such abrupt interruptions, with change of tense, are often introduced with dramatic effect by the narrators. A similar one occurs at p. 133. ‘He sounds the horn and One comes.’ ↑

4 ‘Look who’s here!’ Such sudden interruptions, along with shifts in tense, are often used by narrators for dramatic effect. A similar moment happens on page 133. ‘He blows the horn and One appears.’ ↑

5 ‘E tutto andava benone;’ ‘bene,’ well; ‘benone,’ superlatively well. ↑

5 ‘Everything was going great;’ ‘good,’ okay; ‘really great,’ exceptionally well. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE TRANSFORMATION-DONKEY.1

There was once a poor chicory-seller: all chicory-sellers are poor, but this was a very poor one, and he had a large family of daughters and two sons. The daughters he left at home with their mother, but the two sons he took with him to gather chicory. While they were out gathering chicory one day, a great bird flew down before them and dropped an egg and then flew away again. The boys picked up the egg and brought it to their father, because there were some figures like strange writing on it which they could not read; but neither could the father read the strange writing, so he took the egg to a farmer.2 The farmer read the writing, and it said:—

There was once a poor chicory seller: all chicory sellers are poor, but this one was very poor, and he had a big family with daughters and two sons. He left the daughters at home with their mother, but he took the two sons with him to gather chicory. While they were out gathering chicory one day, a huge bird flew down in front of them, dropped an egg, and then flew away again. The boys picked up the egg and brought it to their father because there were some strange symbols on it that they couldn't read; but their father couldn't read the strange writing either, so he took the egg to a farmer. 2 The farmer read the writing, and it said:—

‘Whoso eats my head, he shall be an emperor.’

‘Whoever eats my head will become an emperor.’

‘Whoso eats my heart, he shall never want for money.’

‘Whoever eats my heart will never be in need of money.’

‘Ho, ho!’ said the farmer to himself, ‘it won’t do to tell the fellow this; I must manage to eat both the head and the heart myself.’ So he said, ‘The meaning of it is that whoever eats the bird will make a very good dinner; so to-morrow when the bird comes back, as she doubtless will to lay another egg, have a good stick ready and knock her down; then you can make a fire, and bake it between the stones, and I will come and eat it with you if you like.’ [147]

‘Ho, ho!’ the farmer said to himself, ‘It wouldn’t be smart to tell this guy; I need to figure out how to eat both the head and the heart myself.’ So he said, ‘The fact is that whoever eats the bird will have a great dinner; so tomorrow when the bird comes back, which she definitely will to lay another egg, be ready with a good stick and knock her down; then you can make a fire and bake her between the stones, and I’ll come and join you for the meal if you want.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

The poor chicory-seller thought his fortune was made when a farmer offered to dine with him, and the hours seemed long enough till next morning came.

The poor chicory seller thought his luck had changed when a farmer invited him to dinner, and the hours felt long until the next morning arrived.

With next morning, however, came the bird again. The chicory-seller was ready with his stick and knocked her down, and the boys made a fire and cooked the bird. But as they were not very apt at the trussing and cooking, the head dropped into the fire, and the youngest boy said: ‘This will never do to serve up, all burnt as it is;’ so he ate it. The heart also fell into the fire and got burnt, and the eldest boy said: ‘This will never do to serve up, all burnt as it is;’ so he ate that.

With the next morning, though, the bird came back. The chicory seller was ready with his stick and knocked her down, and the boys built a fire and cooked the bird. But since they weren’t very good at preparing and cooking, the head fell into the fire, and the youngest boy said, “This can't be served up, all burnt like that,” so he ate it. The heart also fell into the fire and got burnt, and the eldest boy said, “This can't be served up, all burnt like that,” so he ate that.

By-and-by the farmer came, and they all sat down on a bank—the farmer quite jovial at the idea of the immense advantage he was going to gain, and the chicory-seller quite elated at the idea of entertaining a farmer.

By and by, the farmer arrived, and they all sat down on a bank—the farmer feeling pretty cheerful about the huge benefit he was about to gain, and the chicory seller quite happy about hosting a farmer.

‘Bring forward the roast, boys,’ said the father; and the boys brought the bird.

‘Bring out the roast, guys,’ said the father; and the guys brought the bird.

‘What have you done with the head?’ exclaimed the farmer, the moment he saw the bird.

‘What did you do with the head?’ exclaimed the farmer as soon as he saw the bird.

‘Oh, it got burnt, and I ate it,’ said the younger boy.

‘Oh, it got burned, and I ate it,’ said the younger boy.

The merchant ground his teeth and stamped his foot, but he dared not say why he was so angry; so he sat silent while the chicory-seller took out his knife3 and cut the bird up in portions.

The merchant gritted his teeth and stamped his foot, but he didn’t dare say why he was so upset; so he sat there in silence while the chicory-seller took out his knife3 and chopped the bird into pieces.

‘Give me the piece with the heart, if I may choose,’ said the merchant; ‘I’m very fond of birds’ hearts.’

‘Give me the piece with the heart, if I can choose,’ said the merchant; ‘I’m really fond of birds’ hearts.’

‘Certainly, any part you like,’ replied the chicory-seller, nervously turning all the pieces over and over again; ‘but I can’t find any heart. Boys, had the bird no heart?’

‘Sure, pick any part you want,’ replied the chicory-seller, nervously flipping all the pieces around; ‘but I can’t find any heart. Guys, did the bird have no heart?’

‘Yes, papa,’ answered the elder brother, ‘it had a heart, sure enough; but it tumbled into the fire and got burnt, and so I ate it.’

‘Yeah, Dad,’ replied the older brother, ‘it definitely had a heart; but it fell into the fire and got burned, so I ate it.’

There was no object in disguising his fury any longer, so the farmer exclaimed testily, ‘Thank you, I’ll not [148]have any then; the head and the heart are just the only parts of a bird I care to eat.’ And so saying he turned on his heel and went away.

There was no point in hiding his anger anymore, so the farmer said irritably, ‘Thanks, but I’ll pass; the head and the heart are the only parts of a bird I want to eat.’ With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

‘Look, boys, what you’ve done! You’ve thrown away the best chance we ever had in our lives!’ cried the father in despair.4 ‘After the farmer had taken dinner with us he must have asked us to dine with him, and, as one civility always brings another, there is no saying what it might not have led to. However, as you have chosen to throw the chance away, you may go and look out for yourselves. I’ve done with you.’ And with a sound cudgelling5 he drove them away.

‘Look, boys, what you've done! You've thrown away the best chance we ever had in our lives!’ the father cried, filled with despair. 4 ‘After the farmer had dinner with us, he must have invited us to dine with him. One kind gesture often leads to another, and who knows what it could have led to? But since you've chosen to throw that opportunity away, you can go figure things out for yourselves. I'm done with you.’ And with a hard hit 5 he sent them away.

The two boys, left to themselves, wandered on till they came to a stable, when they entered the yard and asked to be allowed to do some work or other as a means of subsistence.

The two boys, on their own, wandered on until they reached a stable, where they entered the yard and asked to be permitted to do some work or something to earn a living.

‘I’ve nothing for you to do,’ said the landlord; ‘but, as it’s late, you may sleep on the straw there, on the condition that you go about your business to-morrow first thing.’

‘I don’t have anything for you to do,’ said the landlord; ‘but since it’s late, you can sleep on the straw over there, on the condition that you take care of your business first thing in the morning.’

The boys, glad to get a night’s lodging on any condition, went to sleep in the straw. When the elder brother woke in the morning he found a box of sequins6 under his head.

The boys, happy to have a place to sleep for the night no matter the circumstances, lay down in the straw. When the older brother woke up in the morning, he found a box of sequins6 under his head.

‘How could this have come here,’ soliloquised the boy, ‘unless the host had put it there to see if we were honest? Well, thank God, if we’re poor there’s no danger of either of us taking what doesn’t belong to us.’ So he took the box to the host, and said: ‘There’s your box of sequins quite safe. You needn’t have taken the trouble to test our honesty in that way.’

‘How could this have ended up here,’ the boy wondered, ‘unless the host placed it here to see if we were honest? Well, thank God, if we’re poor there’s no risk of either of us taking something that doesn’t belong to us.’ So he brought the box to the host and said, ‘Here’s your box of sequins, completely safe. You didn’t have to go through the trouble of testing our honesty like that.’

The host was very much surprised, but he thought the best way was to take the money and say nothing but ‘I’m glad to see you’re such good boys.’ So he gave them breakfast and some provisions for the way.

The host was quite surprised, but he figured the best approach was to accept the money and say nothing but, "I’m glad to see you’re such good kids." So he provided them with breakfast and some supplies for their journey.

Next night they found themselves still in the open [149]country and no inn near, and they were obliged to be content to sleep on the bare ground. Next morning when they woke the younger boy again found a box of sequins under his head.

Next night, they found themselves still in the open [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] countryside with no inn nearby, and they had to settle for sleeping on the bare ground. The next morning, when they woke up, the younger boy once again discovered a box of sequins under his head.

‘Only think of that host not being satisfied with trying us once, but to come all this way after us to test our honesty again. However, I suppose we must take it back to him.’

‘Just think about that host not being satisfied with testing us once, but coming all this way after us to check our honesty again. Still, I guess we have to return it to him.’

So they walked all the way back to the host and said: ‘Here’s your box of sequins back; as we didn’t steal it the first time it was not likely we should take it the second time.’

So they walked all the way back to the host and said: ‘Here’s your box of sequins back; since we didn’t steal it the first time, it’s unlikely we would take it the second time.’

The host was more and more astonished; but he took the money without saying anything, only he praised the boys for being so good and gave them a hearty meal. And they went their way, taking a new direction.

The host was increasingly surprised; however, he accepted the money without saying a word. He just complimented the boys for being so great and treated them to a hearty meal. Then they went on their way, heading in a new direction.

The next night the younger brother said: ‘Do you know I’ve my doubts about the host having put that box of sequins under your head. How could he have done it out in the open country without our seeing him? To-night I will watch, and if he doesn’t come, and in the morning there is another box of sequins, it will be a sign that it is your own.’

The next night the younger brother said: ‘Do you know I’m starting to doubt that the host actually put that box of sequins under your head. How could he have done it out in the open without us noticing? Tonight I’ll keep watch, and if he doesn’t show up, and in the morning there’s another box of sequins, it will mean that it’s yours.’

He did so, and next morning there was another box of sequins. So they decided it was honestly their own, and they carried it by turns and journeyed on. About noon they came to a great city where the emperor was lately dead, and all the people were in great excitement about choosing another emperor. The population was all divided in factions, each of which had a candidate, and none would let the candidate of the others reign. There was so much fighting and quarrelling in the streets that the brothers got separated, and saw each other no more.

He did that, and the next morning there was another box of sequins. So they decided it was truly theirs, and they took turns carrying it as they continued their journey. Around noon, they arrived at a big city where the emperor had recently died, and everyone was buzzing with excitement about choosing a new emperor. The population was split into factions, each with its own candidate, and no one would allow anyone else's candidate to take the throne. There was so much fighting and arguing in the streets that the brothers got separated and didn’t see each other again.

At this time it happened that it was the turn of the younger brother to be carrying the box of sequins. When the sentinels at the gate saw a stranger coming in carrying [150]a box they said, ‘We must see what this is,’ and they took him to the minister. When the minister saw his box was full of sequins he said, ‘This must be our emperor.’ And all the people said, ‘Yes, this is our emperor. Long live our emperor!’ And thus the boy became an emperor.

At that moment, it was the younger brother's turn to carry the box of sequins. When the guards at the gate spotted a stranger approaching with [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]a box, they said, "We need to check this out," and brought him to the minister. When the minister saw that his box was full of sequins, he declared, "This must be our emperor." Everyone around agreed, "Yes, this is our emperor. Long live our emperor!" And so, the boy became an emperor.

But the elder brother had entered unperceived into the town, and went to ask hospitality in a house where was a woman with a beautiful daughter; so they let him stay. That night also there came a box of sequins under his head; so he went out and bought meat and fuel and all manner of provisions, and gave them to the mother, and said, ‘Because you took me in when I was poor last night, I have brought you all these provisions out of gratitude,’ and for the beautiful daughter he bought silks and damasks, and ornaments of gold. But the daughter said, ‘How comes it, tell me, that you, who were a poor footsore wayfarer last night, have now such boundless riches at command?’ And because she was beautiful and spoke kindly to him, he suspected no evil, but told her, saying, ‘Every morning when I wake now, I find a box of sequins under my head.’

But the older brother had slipped into the town unnoticed and went to ask for a place to stay in a home that had a woman with a beautiful daughter; so they let him stay. That night, he also found a box of sequins under his head; so he went out and bought meat, firewood, and all kinds of supplies, then gave them to the mother and said, ‘Because you took me in when I was poor last night, I’ve brought you all these supplies as a thank you,’ and for the beautiful daughter, he bought silks, damasks, and gold jewelry. But the daughter asked, ‘How is it that you, who were a poor, tired traveler last night, now have such incredible wealth?’ And since she was beautiful and spoke sweetly to him, he suspected nothing wrong and replied, ‘Every morning when I wake up now, I find a box of sequins under my head.’

‘And how comes it,’ said she, ‘that you find a box of sequins under your head now, and not formerly?’ ‘I do not know,’ he answered, ‘unless it be because one day when I was out with father gathering chicory, a great bird came and dropt an egg with some strange writing on it, which we could not read. But a farmer read it for us; only he would not tell us what it said, but that we should cook the bird and eat it. While we were cooking it the heart fell into the fire and got burnt, and I ate it: and when the farmer heard this he grew very angry. I think, therefore, the writing on the egg said that he who ate the heart of the bird should have many sequins.’

“And how is it,” she asked, “that you have a box of sequins under your head now and not before?” “I don’t know,” he replied, “unless it’s because one day when I was out with my dad gathering chicory, a big bird came and dropped an egg with some strange writing on it that we couldn’t read. But a farmer read it for us; only he wouldn’t tell us what it said, just that we should cook the bird and eat it. While we were cooking it, the heart fell into the fire and got burned, and I ate it: when the farmer heard this, he got really angry. So I think the writing on the egg said that whoever ate the heart of the bird would have many sequins.”

After this they spent the day pleasantly together; but the daughter put an emetic in his wine at supper, and so made him bring up the bird’s heart, which she kept for [151]herself, and the next morning when he woke there was no box of sequins under his head. When he rose in the morning also the beautiful girl and her mother turned him out of the house, and he wandered forth again.

After that, they had a nice day together; however, the daughter put a potion in his wine at dinner, which made him vomit up the bird’s heart that she kept for herself, and the next morning when he woke up, there was no box of coins under his head. When he got up in the morning, the beautiful girl and her mother kicked him out of the house, and he wandered away again.

At last, being weary and full of sorrow, he sat down on the ground by the side of a stream crying. Immediately three fairies appeared to him and asked him why he wept. And when he told them, they said to him: ‘Weep no more, for instead of the bird’s heart we give you this sheepskin jacket, the pockets of which will always be full of sequins. How many soever you may take out they will always remain full.’ Then they disappeared; but he immediately went back to the house of the beautiful girl, taking her rich and fine presents; but she said to him, ‘How comes it that you, who had no money left when you went away, have now the means to buy all these fine presents?’ Then he told her of the gift of the three fairies, and they let him sleep in the house again, but the daughter called her maid to her and said: ‘Make a sheepskin jacket exactly like that in the stranger’s room.’ So she made one, and they put it in his room, and took away the one the fairies had given him, and in the morning they drove him from the house again. Then he went and sat down by the stream and wept again; but the fairies came and asked him why he wept; and he told them, saying, ‘Because they have driven me away from the house where I stayed, and I have no home to go to, and this jacket has no more sequins in the pockets.’ Then the fairies looked at the jacket, and they said, ‘This is not the jacket we gave you; it has been changed by fraud:’ so they gave him in place of it a wand, and they said, ‘With this wand strike the table, and whatever you may desire, be it meat or drink or clothes, or whatsoever you may want, it shall come upon the table.’ The next day he went back to the house of the woman and her daughter, and sat down without saying anything, but he struck the table with his wand, [152]wishing for a great banquet, and immediately it was covered with the choicest dishes. There was no need to ask him questions this time, for they saw in what his gift consisted, and in the night, when he was asleep, they took his wand away. In the morning they drove him forth out of the house, and he went back to the stream and sat down to cry. Again the fairies appeared to him and comforted him; but they said, ‘This is the last time we may appear to you. Here is a ring; keep it on your hand; for if you lose this gift there is nothing more we may do for you;’ and they went away. But he immediately returned to the house of the woman and her beautiful daughter. They let him in, ‘Because,’ they said, ‘doubtless the fairies have given him some other gift of which we may take profit.’ And as he sat there he said, ‘All the other gifts of the fairies have I lost, but this one they have given me now I cannot lose, because it is a ring which fits my finger, and no one can take it from my hand.’

At last, feeling tired and sad, he sat down on the ground next to a stream and began to cry. Suddenly, three fairies appeared and asked him why he was upset. When he explained, they said to him, “Don’t cry anymore. Instead of the bird’s heart, we’ll give you this sheepskin jacket, which will always have pockets full of sequins. No matter how many you take out, it will always be full.” Then they vanished; he quickly returned to the beautiful girl’s house, bringing her luxurious gifts. She asked him, “How is it that you, who had no money when you left, now have all these lovely presents?” He told her about the fairies' gift, and they allowed him to stay in the house again. However, the daughter called her maid and said, “Make a sheepskin jacket just like the one in the stranger’s room.” The maid made one, and they switched it with the one the fairies had given him, then kicked him out of the house the next morning. He went back to the stream and cried again; when the fairies appeared and asked why he was upset, he explained, “Because they kicked me out of the house where I stayed, I have no home to go to, and this jacket now has no sequins left in the pockets.” The fairies looked at the jacket and said, “This is not the jacket we gave you; it has been swapped out dishonestly.” They then gave him a wand and said, “With this wand, strike the table, and whatever you wish for—be it food, drink, clothes, or anything else—you’ll find on the table.” The next day, he returned to the woman and her daughter’s house and sat quietly. He struck the table with his wand, wishing for a grand feast, and it was instantly covered with the finest dishes. They didn’t need to ask him questions this time; they saw his gift at work, and that night, while he slept, they took his wand. In the morning, they kicked him out again, so he went back to the stream and cried. The fairies appeared to him once more and comforted him, but they said, “This is the last time we can help you. Here’s a ring; keep it on your finger, because if you lose this gift, we can’t assist you anymore.” Then they disappeared. He immediately went back to the house of the woman and her beautiful daughter. They let him in, thinking, “Surely the fairies have given him another gift we can benefit from.” As he sat there, he said, “I’ve lost all the other gifts from the fairies, but this one they gave me now I can’t lose because it’s a ring that fits my finger, and no one can take it from me.”

‘And of what use is your ring?’ asked the beautiful daughter.

‘And what good is your ring?’ asked the beautiful daughter.

‘Its use is that whatever I wish for while I have it on I obtain directly, whatever it may be.’

“I can get whatever I want while I have it on, no matter what it is.”

‘Then wish,’ said she, ‘that we may be both together on the top of that high mountain, and a sumptuous merenda7 spread out for us.’

‘Then wish,’ she said, ‘that we could be together at the top of that high mountain, with a lavish merenda7 laid out for us.’

‘To be sure!’ he replied, and he repeated her wish. Instantly they found themselves on the top of the high mountain with a plentiful merenda before them; but she had a vial of opium with her, and while his head was turned away she poured the opium into his wine. Presently after this he fell into a sound sleep, so sound that there was no fear of waking him. Immediately she took the ring from his finger and put it on her own; then she wished that she might be replaced at home and that he might be left on the top of the mountain. And so it was done. [153]

“Of course!” he answered, and he echoed her wish. In an instant, they found themselves on top of the high mountain with a generous spread of snacks before them; but she had a vial of opium with her, and while he wasn’t looking, she poured the opium into his wine. Soon after, he fell into a deep sleep, so deep that there was no risk of waking him. Right away, she took the ring off his finger and slipped it onto her own; then she wished to be back home and for him to be left on top of the mountain. And just like that, it happened. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

In the morning when he woke and found himself all alone on the top of the high mountain and his ring gone, he wept bitter tears, and felt too weary to attempt the descent of the steep mountain side. For three days he remained here weary and weeping, and then, becoming faint from hunger, he took some of the herbs that grew on the mountain top for food. As soon as he had eaten these he was turned into a donkey,8 but as he retained his human intelligence, he said to himself, this herb has its uses, and he filled one of the panniers on his back with it. Then he came down from the mountain, and when he was at the foot of it, being hungry with the long journey, he ate of the grass that grew there, and, behold! he was transformed back into his natural shape; so he filled the other basket with this kind of grass and went his way.

In the morning, when he woke up and found himself all alone on the top of the high mountain with his ring missing, he cried bitterly and felt too exhausted to try to make his way down the steep mountainside. For three days, he stayed there, tired and weeping, and then, feeling weak from hunger, he ate some of the herbs that grew at the mountain peak. As soon as he consumed them, he turned into a donkey, but since he kept his human intelligence, he thought to himself that this herb had its uses, so he filled one of the bags on his back with it. Then he descended from the mountain, and when he reached the bottom, hungry after the long journey, he ate some of the grass that grew there, and, surprise! he was transformed back into his original shape; so he filled the other bag with this type of grass and went on his way.

Having dressed himself like a street seller, he took the basket of the herb which had the property of changing the eater into a donkey, and stood under the window of the house where he had been so evil entreated, and cried, ‘Fine salad! fine salad! who will buy my fine salad?’9

Having dressed like a street vendor, he grabbed the basket filled with the herb that could turn the eater into a donkey and stood under the window of the house where he had been treated so poorly, shouting, ‘Great salad! Great salad! Who wants to buy my great salad?’9

‘What is there so specially good about your salad?’ asked the maid, looking out. ‘My young mistress is particularly fond of salad, so if yours is so very superfine, you had better come up.’

‘What’s so great about your salad?’ asked the maid, looking outside. ‘My young mistress really loves salad, so if yours is that amazing, you should come up.’

He did not wait to be twice told. As soon as he saw the beautiful daughter, he said, ‘This is fine salad, indeed, the finest of the fine, all fresh gathered, and the first of its kind that ever was sold.’

He didn't need to be told twice. As soon as he saw the beautiful daughter, he said, ‘This is some amazing salad, truly the best of the best, all freshly picked, and the first of its kind ever sold.’

‘Very likely it’s the first of its kind that ever was sold,’ said she; ‘but I don’t like to buy things I haven’t tried; it may turn out not to be nice.’

‘It’s probably the first one like this that’s ever been sold,’ she said; ‘but I don’t want to buy things I haven’t tried; it might not be as nice as it seems.’

‘Oh, try it, try it freely; don’t buy without trying;’ and he picked one of the freshest and crispest bunches.

‘Oh, go ahead, give it a try; don’t buy without testing it out first;’ and he grabbed one of the freshest and crispest bunches.

She took one in her hand and bit a few blades, and no sooner had she done so than she too became a donkey. Then he put the panniers on her back and drove her all [154]over the town, constantly cudgelling her till she sank under the blows. Then one who saw him belabour her thus, said, ‘This must not be; you must come and answer before the emperor for thus belabouring the poor brute;’ but he refused to go unless he took the donkey with him; so they went to the emperor and said, ‘Here is one who is belabouring his donkey till she has sunk under his blows, and he refuses to come before the emperor to answer his cruelty unless he bring his donkey with him.’ And the emperor made answer, ‘Let him bring the beast with him.’

She picked one up and chewed on a few blades, and as soon as she did, she also turned into a donkey. Then he loaded the panniers on her back and drove her all [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] around town, constantly hitting her until she collapsed from the blows. Then someone who saw him beating her said, "This isn't right; you need to come and explain yourself to the emperor for treating that poor animal this way." But he refused to go unless he could take the donkey with him. So they went to the emperor and said, "Here's a guy who is beating his donkey until she can't take it anymore, and he won't come before the emperor to answer for his cruelty unless he can bring the donkey with him." The emperor replied, "Let him bring the beast with him."

So they brought him and his donkey before the emperor. When he found himself before the emperor he said, ‘All these must go away; to the emperor alone can I tell why I belabour my donkey.’ So the emperor commanded all the people to go to a distance while he took him and his donkey apart. As soon as he found himself alone with the emperor he said, ‘See, it is I, thy brother!’ and he embraced him. Then he told him all that had befallen him since they parted. Then said the emperor to the donkey, ‘Go now with him home, and show him where thou hast laid all the things—the bird’s heart, the sheepskin jacket, the wand, and the ring, that he may bring them hither; and if thou deliver them up faithfully I will command that he give thee of that grass to eat which shall give thee back thy natural form.’

So they brought him and his donkey before the emperor. When he stood before the emperor, he said, ‘Everyone else must leave; I can only tell the emperor why I work so hard for my donkey.’ So the emperor ordered everyone to step back while he took the man and his donkey aside. Once they were alone, he said, ‘Look, it’s me, your brother!’ and he hugged him. Then he shared everything that had happened to him since they had last seen each other. The emperor then said to the donkey, ‘Now go home with him and show him where you’ve hidden all the things—the bird’s heart, the sheepskin jacket, the wand, and the ring—so he can bring them back here; and if you return them safely, I will command that he let you eat that grass that will restore you to your true form.’

So they went back to the house and fetched all the things, and the emperor said, ‘Come thou now and live with me, and give me of thy sequins, and I will share the empire with thee.’ Thus they reigned together.

So they went back to the house and gathered all their things, and the emperor said, ‘Come live with me now, share your sequins, and I will share the empire with you.’ So they ruled together.

But to the donkey they gave of the grass to eat, which restored her natural form, only that her beauty was marred by the cudgelling she had received. And she said, ‘Had I not been so wilful and malicious I had now been empress.’

But they gave the donkey some grass to eat, which brought back her natural shape, though her beauty was damaged by the beating she had endured. And she said, ‘If I hadn't been so stubborn and mean, I would be empress now.’

[In these stories we have had the actions of three Fate, somewhat resembling English fairies; in the following, we meet with three who, as often happens in Roman stories, are nothing better than witches.]

[In these stories, we’ve encountered the actions of three Fate, somewhat like English fairies; in the next section, we come across three who, as is often the case in Roman tales, are nothing more than witches.]

1 ‘La Somara.’ ↑

1 'The Somara.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 The ‘mercante di Campagna’ occupies the place of farmer in the [155]social system of Rome; that is, he produces and deals in grain and cattle; there is ‘buttaro’ (cattle breeder) besides; but the characteristics of each are so different that the one does not well translate the other. ↑

2 The ‘country merchant’ is the equivalent of a farmer in the [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] social system of Rome; that is, he produces and trades in grain and livestock; there is also ‘buttaro’ (cattle breeder) in addition; however, the characteristics of each are so distinct that one doesn’t easily translate to the other. ↑

3 ‘Cortello’ for ‘coltello’ (a knife). The substitution of r for l in a good many words is a common Romanism. ↑

3 ‘Cortello’ for ‘coltello’ (a knife). Replacing r with l in many words is a common characteristic of Roman dialect. ↑

4 ‘Dishperato’ for ‘disperato’ (‘out of himself with vexation’), is another Romanism; as also  ↑

4 ‘Dishperato’ for ‘disperato’ (‘driven to distraction’), is another Romanism; as also  ↑

5 ‘Bashtonata’ for ‘bastonata’ (a cudgelling); at least many Romans, particularly old-fashioned people, when using some words in which sp and st occur, put in an h on occasions requiring great vehemence of expression. ↑

5 ‘Bashtonata’ for ‘bastonata’ (a beating); at least many Romans, especially traditional people, when using certain words that have sp and st, sometimes insert an h when they need to express themselves very passionately. ↑

6 Zecchini. The zecchino was the gold standard coin in Rome before that of the scudo was adopted. Its value was fixed in the reign of Clement XIII., 1758, at two scudi and twenty bajocchi—something between 10s. and 11s.; it was current till a few years back; and ‘zecchini’ is a common way of saying ‘money’ when a large sum is spoken of, just as we still talk of guineas. ↑

6 Zecchini. The zecchino was the gold standard coin in Rome before the scudo was adopted. Its value was set during the reign of Clement XIII in 1758 at two scudi and twenty bajocchi—around 10s. to 11s.; it was still in use until a few years ago; and ‘zecchini’ is a common way to refer to ‘money’ when talking about a large sum, just like we still say guineas. ↑

7 ‘Merenda’ is a supplementary meal taken at any time of day. It is not exactly lunch, because the habit of taking lunch at one and dining late has not yet obtained to any great extent in Rome; and where it has, lunch is called ‘déjeûner’; breakfast (i.e. a cup of coffee and a roll early in the morning) is always called ‘colazione.’ The established custom of Rome is dinner (‘pranzo,’ or ‘desinare,’) at twelve, and supper (‘cena’) an hour or two after the Ave, varying, therefore, according to the time of year, from six or seven till nine or ten, and even later. ‘Merenda’ is a light meal between ‘pranzo’ and ‘cena’ of not altogether general use, and chiefly on occasions of driving outside the gates to spend the afternoon at a country villa or casino. ↑

7 ‘Merenda’ is a light meal that can be eaten at any time of the day. It’s not quite lunch because, in Rome, the custom of having lunch at one and dining late hasn't really caught on, and where it has, lunch is called ‘déjeûner.’ Breakfast, which consists of a cup of coffee and a roll early in the morning, is always referred to as ‘colazione.’ The typical custom in Rome is to have dinner (‘pranzo’ or ‘desinare’) at twelve, and supper (‘cena’) an hour or two after the Ave, which varies depending on the time of year, ranging from six or seven to nine or ten, and sometimes even later. ‘Merenda’ is a light meal between ‘pranzo’ and ‘cena,’ not commonly used, and is mainly for occasions when people are driving outside the city to spend the afternoon at a country villa or casino. ↑

8 ‘Soma’ is a burden; ‘somaro’ or ‘somura’ an ass used for carrying burdens. Thus in the next line it is spoken of as having panniers on as a matter of course. ↑

8 'Soma' is a load; 'somaro' or 'somura' refers to a donkey used for carrying loads. So in the next line, it's mentioned as if it normally has saddlebags on it. ↑

9 ‘Che bell’ insalatina; chi vuol insalatina; che bell’ insalatina!’ a common form of crying. ‘Che belle mela!’ ‘What fine apples!’ ‘Che belle persiche!’ or ‘What fine peaches!’ may be heard all the year round. ↑

9 ‘What a lovely little salad; who wants a little salad; what a lovely little salad!’ is a common way of calling out. ‘What lovely apples!’ ‘What lovely peaches!’ can be heard all year round. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

SIGNOR LATTANZIO.

They say there was a duke who wandered over the world seeking a beautiful maiden to make his wife.

They say there was a duke who traveled the world looking for a beautiful woman to be his wife.

After many years he came to an inn where was a lady, who asked him what he sought. [156]

After many years, he arrived at an inn where a lady asked him what he was looking for. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘I have journeyed half the earth over,’ answered the duke, ‘to find a wife to my fancy, and have not found one; and now I go back to my native city as I came.’

‘I’ve traveled halfway across the world,’ replied the duke, ‘to find a wife to my liking, and I haven’t found one; and now I’m returning to my hometown just as I arrived.’

‘How sad!’ answered the lady. ‘I have a daughter who is the most beautiful maiden that ever was made; but three fairies have taken possession of her, and locked her up in a casino in the Campagna, and no one can get to see her.’

‘How sad!’ replied the lady. ‘I have a daughter who is the most beautiful girl ever created; but three fairies have taken her and locked her away in a villa in the countryside, and no one can see her.’

‘Only tell me where she is,’ replied the duke, ‘and I promise you I’ll get to see her, in spite of all the fairies in the world.’

‘Just let me know where she is,’ replied the duke, ‘and I promise you I’ll find a way to see her, despite all the fairies in the world.’

‘It is useless!’ replied the lady. ‘So many have tried and failed. So will you.’

‘It’s pointless!’ the lady answered. ‘So many have tried and failed. So will you.’

‘Not I!’ answered the duke. ‘Tell me how they failed, and I will do otherwise.’

‘Not me!’ replied the duke. ‘Tell me how they messed up, and I’ll do it differently.’

‘I have told so many, and all say the same as you, and all go to seek her, but none ever come back.’

‘I have told so many, and they all say the same as you, and they all go to find her, but none ever come back.’

‘Never mind! Tell it once again, and I promise you it shall be the last time, for I will surely come back.’

‘Never mind! Tell it one more time, and I promise it’ll be the last, because I will definitely come back.’

‘If you are bent on sacrificing yourself uselessly,’ proceeded the lady, ‘this is the story. You must go to the mountain of Russia, and at the foot of it there will meet you three most beautiful maidens, who will come round you, and praise you, and flatter you, and pour out all manner of blandishments, and will ask you to go into their palace with them, and will entreat you so much that you will not be able to resist; then you will go into their palace with them, and they will turn you into a cat, for they are three fairies. But, on the other hand, if you can resist only for the space of one hour to all they will say to you, then you will have conquered, and they will be turned into cats, and you will have free access to my daughter to release her.’

‘If you’re determined to sacrifice yourself for no good reason,’ the lady continued, ‘here’s the story. You must go to the mountain in Russia, and at its base, you will be met by three incredibly beautiful maidens. They will surround you, praise you, flatter you, and shower you with compliments, begging you to come into their palace with them. They will plead so much that you won’t be able to resist; then you’ll enter their palace, and they will transform you into a cat because they are three fairies. But if you can resist everything they say for just one hour, then you’ll have won, and they will turn into cats, giving you free access to my daughter to rescue her.’

‘I will go,’ said the duke firmly; and he rose up and went his way to the mountain of Russia.

‘I’ll go,’ said the duke confidently; and he stood up and made his way to the mountain in Russia.

‘Now, if all these other men have failed in this same [157]attempt,’ he mused within himself as he went along, ‘it behoves me to be prudent. I know what I will do; I will put a bandage over my eyes, and then I shan’t see the fairies, and their blandishments will have no power over me.’ And so he did.

‘Now, if all these other guys have failed in this same [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]attempt,’ he thought to himself as he walked, ‘I need to be careful. I know what I’ll do; I’ll put a blindfold on, and then I won’t see the fairies, and their sweet talk won’t have any effect on me.’ And so he did.

Then the fairies came out to him and said, ‘Signor Lattanzio! welcome, welcome! how fair you are; do take the bandage off and let us see you; how noble you look. Do let us see your face? We are dying to have you with us!’

Then the fairies approached him and said, ‘Signor Lattanzio! Welcome, welcome! You look so handsome; please take off the bandage so we can see you; you look so noble. Can we see your face? We’re eager to have you with us!’

But the duke remained firm, and seemed to take no heed, though their voices were so soft and persuasive that he longed to look at them, or even to lift up one corner of the bandage and take a peep. But he remained firm.

But the duke stayed resolute and appeared to ignore them, even though their voices were soft and convincing, making him want to look at them or even lift a corner of the bandage to sneak a peek. But he held his ground.

‘Signor Lattanzio! Signor Lattanzio! Don’t be so ungallant,’ pursued the fairies. ‘Here are we at your feet, as it were, begging you to give us your company, and you will not so much as speak to us, or even look at us!’

‘Mr. Lattanzio! Mr. Lattanzio! Don’t be so rude,’ the fairies urged. ‘Here we are at your feet, practically begging you to keep us company, and you won't even speak to us or look at us!’

But the duke remained firm, and seemed to take no heed, though his head was turned by their accents, and he felt that if he could only go with them as they wished he should want no more. But he remained firm.

But the duke stood his ground and seemed to ignore them, even though their voices affected him, and he felt that if he could just join them as they wanted, he wouldn't need anything else. But he stayed resolute.

‘Signor Lattanzio! Signor Lattanzio! Signor Lattanzio!’ cried the three fairies disdainfully, for now they began to suspect in right good earnest that at last one had come who was too strong for them. ‘The fact is you are afraid of us. If you are a man, show you have no fear, and come and talk with us.’

‘Signor Lattanzio! Signor Lattanzio! Signor Lattanzio!’ the three fairies exclaimed with disdain, as they started to genuinely suspect that someone had finally arrived who was too powerful for them. ‘The truth is, you’re scared of us. If you’re a man, prove you have no fear and come talk to us.’

But the duke remained firm, though a vanity, which had nearly lost him, whispered that it would be a grander triumph to look them in the face and yet resist them, than to conquer without having ventured to look at them, yet prudence prevailed, and he remained firm.

But the duke stood his ground, even though his vanity, which had almost cost him everything, suggested that it would be a greater victory to face them directly and still refuse them than to win without daring to look at them. However, common sense won out, and he stayed resolute.

So they went on, and the duke felt that the hour was drawing to a close. He took out his repeater and struck it, and the hour of trial was over. [158]

So they continued on, and the duke sensed that time was running out. He pulled out his watch and pressed the button, and the moment of judgment had passed. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Traitor!’ cried the three fairies, and in the same instant they were turned into cats. Then the duke went into their palace, and took their wand, and with it he could open the gates of the casino where the lady’s daughter was imprisoned.

‘Traitor!’ shouted the three fairies, and in that same moment, they were transformed into cats. The duke then entered their palace, took their wand, and with it, he was able to open the gates of the casino where the lady’s daughter was locked up.

When he saw her, he found her indeed fairer than the fairest; fairer even than his conception.

When he saw her, he realized she was definitely more beautiful than anyone else; even more beautiful than he had imagined.

When, therefore, with the wand he had restored all the cats that were upon the mountain to their natural shapes as those that had failed in their enterprise, he took her home with him to be his wife.

When he had used the wand to change all the cats on the mountain back into their original forms, just like those who had failed in their mission, he took her home to be his wife.

[As this was told me, the sign by which the duke was to recognise the three fairies was, that they were to be sweeping the ground with their breasts. The incident seemed so extravagant, that I omitted it in writing out the story; I mention it, however, now because I find the same in Note 1, on an Albanian story, to p. 177, in Ralston’s ‘Russian Folk Tales’; I met the incident subsequently in another Roman story.

[As I was told this, the way the duke was supposed to recognize the three fairies was that they would be sweeping the ground with their breasts. The incident seemed so outrageous that I left it out when writing the story; however, I mention it now because I found the same detail in Note 1, about an Albanian story, on p. 177, in Ralston’s ‘Russian Folk Tales’; I later encountered the same incident in another Roman story.]

The idea which has prompted this tale is apparently the same as that which has given rise to the story of ‘Odysseus and the Seirens.’ See Cox’s ‘Aryan Mythology,’ II. 242.]

The idea behind this story is clearly the same as the one that inspired the tale of 'Odysseus and the Sirens.' See Cox’s ‘Aryan Mythology,’ II. 242.

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

HOW CAJUSSE WAS MARRIED.1

There was a poor tailor starving for poverty because he could get no work. One day there knocked at his door a good-natured-looking old man; the tailor’s son opened the door, and he won the boy’s confidence immediately, saying he was his uncle. He also gave him a piastre2 to buy a good dinner. When the father came home and found him installed, and heard that he called himself his son’s uncle, and would, therefore, be his own brother, he was much surprised; but as he found he was so rich and so generous, he thought it better not to dispute his word. [159]The visitor stayed a whole month, providing all expenses so freely all the time that everyone was delighted with him, and when at last he came to take leave, and proposed that the tailor’s boy should go with him and learn some business at his expense, the son himself was all eagerness to go, and the father, too, willingly gave his consent.

There was a poor tailor struggling with poverty because he couldn’t find any work. One day, a friendly-looking old man knocked at his door; the tailor’s son opened it, and the man quickly earned the boy’s trust by claiming to be his uncle. He also gave the boy a piastre2 to buy a nice dinner. When the father came home and saw the man there, claiming to be his son’s uncle and thus his own brother, he was quite surprised. However, since the man was so rich and generous, he decided it was better not to question him. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] The visitor stayed for a whole month, covering all expenses so generously that everyone was happy to have him there. Finally, when it was time for him to leave and he suggested that the tailor’s boy go with him to learn a trade at his expense, the son was eager to go, and the father readily agreed.

As soon as they had gone a good way outside the gates the stranger said to the boy, ‘It is all a dodge about my calling myself your uncle. I am not your uncle a bit; only I want a strong daring sort of boy to do something for me which I am too old to do myself. I am a wizard,3 and if you do what I tell you I will reward you well; but if you attempt to resist or escape you may be sure you will suffer for it.’

As soon as they had walked a good distance outside the gates, the stranger said to the boy, "It's all a trick for me to call myself your uncle. I'm not really your uncle at all; I just need a brave, adventurous boy to do something for me that I'm too old to handle myself. I'm a wizard,3 and if you follow my instructions, I’ll reward you nicely; but if you try to fight back or run away, you can bet you'll pay for it."

‘Tell me what I have to do, before we talk about resisting and escaping,’ replied the boy; ‘maybe I shan’t mind doing it.’

‘Tell me what I need to do before we start discussing resisting and escaping,’ the boy replied; ‘maybe I won’t mind doing it.’

They were walking on as they talked, and the boy observed that they got over much more ground than by ordinary walking, and they were now in a wild desolate country. The wizard said nothing till they reached a spot where there was a flat stone in the ground. Here he stopped, and as he lifted up the stone, he said, ‘This is what you have to do. I will let you down with this rope, and you must go all along through the dark till you come to a place where is a beautiful garden. At the gate of the garden sits a fierce dog, which will fly out at you, and bark fearfully. I will give you some bread and cheese to throw to him, and, while he is devouring the bread and cheese, you must pass on. Then all manner of terrible noises will cry after you, calling you back; but take no heed of them, and, above all, do not look back; if you look back you are lost. As soon as you are out of sound of the voices you will see on a stone an old lantern, take that and bring it back to me.’

They were walking along as they chatted, and the boy noticed that they covered much more ground than with regular walking, and they were now in a wild, deserted area. The wizard didn’t say anything until they got to a spot with a flat stone on the ground. Here, he stopped, and as he lifted the stone, he said, “This is what you need to do. I will lower you down with this rope, and you must go straight through the darkness until you reach a place with a beautiful garden. At the garden gate sits a fierce dog that will charge at you and bark loudly. I’ll give you some bread and cheese to toss to him, and while he’s eating, you must move on. Then, all sorts of terrible noises will call out to you, trying to make you turn back; but ignore them, and above all, don’t look back; if you do, you’re done for. As soon as you can’t hear the voices anymore, you’ll find an old lantern on a stone—take that and bring it back to me.”

The boy showed no unwillingness to try his fortune, [160]and the magician gave him the bread and cheese he had promised, and let him down by a rope. He gave him also a ring, saying, ‘If anything else should happen, after you have got the lantern, to prevent your bringing it away, rub this ring and wish at the same time for deliverance, and you will be delivered.’

The boy was eager to try his luck, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]and the magician handed him the bread and cheese he had promised, lowering him down with a rope. He also gave him a ring, saying, ‘If anything else happens after you get the lantern that stops you from bringing it back, just rub this ring and wish for help at the same time, and you will be saved.’

The boy did all the wizard had told him, and something more besides; for when he got into the garden he found the trees all covered with beautiful fruits, which were all so many precious stones; with these he filled his pockets till he could hardly move for the weight of them; then he came back to the opening of the cave, and called to the wizard to pull him up.

The boy did everything the wizard told him, plus a little more; when he got into the garden, he found the trees covered with beautiful fruits, each one like a precious stone. He filled his pockets until he could hardly move because of the weight. Then he returned to the entrance of the cave and called for the wizard to pull him up.

‘Send up the lantern first,’ said the magician, ‘and I’ll see about pulling you up afterwards.’

‘Send up the lantern first,’ said the magician, ‘and I’ll figure out how to pull you up afterwards.’

But the boy was afraid lest he should be left behind; so he refused to send up the lantern unless the wizard hauled him up with it. This the wizard would by no means do.

But the boy was scared he might be left behind, so he refused to send up the lantern unless the wizard pulled him up with it. The wizard absolutely wouldn’t do that.

‘Ah! the youngster will be frightened if I shut him up in the dark cave a bit,’ said he, and closed the stone, meaning to call to him by-and-by to see if he had come round to a more submissive mind. The boy, however, finding himself shut up alone in the cave, bethought him of the ring, and rubbed it, wishing the while to be at home. Instantly he found himself there, lantern in hand. His parents were very much astonished at all he told them of his adventures, and, poor as they were, were very glad to have him safe back.

‘Oh! The kid will be scared if I lock him up in the dark cave for a bit,’ he said, and closed the stone, planning to call him later to see if he was feeling more compliant. The boy, however, realizing he was alone in the cave, remembered the ring, rubbed it, and wished to be at home. Instantly, he found himself there, holding a lantern. His parents were very surprised by everything he told them about his adventures, and, even though they were poor, they were really happy to have him back safe.

‘I wonder what the magician wanted this ugly old lantern for,’ said the boy to himself one day. ‘It must be good for something or he would not have been so anxious to have it; let me try rubbing it, and see if that answers as well as rubbing the ring.’ He no sooner did so than One4 appeared, and asked his pleasure. ‘A table well laid for dinner!’ said the boy; and immediately a table appeared covered with all sorts of good things, with [161]real silver spoons and forks.5 Then he called on his mother and father, and they made a good meal; after that they lived for a month on the price of the silver which the mother took out and pawned.6 One day she found the town all illuminated. What is going on?’ she asked of the neighbours. ‘The daughter of the Sultan is going to marry the son of the Grand Vizier, and there is a distribution of alms to the people on the occasion; that is why they rejoice.’ Such was the answer.

‘I wonder what the magician wanted this ugly old lantern for,’ the boy thought to himself one day. ‘It must be useful for something, or he wouldn’t have been so eager to have it; let me try rubbing it and see if it works like rubbing the ring.’ As soon as he did, One4 appeared and asked what he desired. ‘A nicely set table for dinner!’ said the boy; and immediately a table appeared, covered with all sorts of delicious food, with [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]real silver spoons and forks.5 He then called for his mother and father, and they enjoyed a great meal; afterward, they lived for a month on the money from the silver that the mother took out and pawned.6 One day she saw the town all lit up. “What’s happening?” she asked the neighbors. “The daughter of the Sultan is marrying the son of the Grand Vizier, and there’s a distribution of alms to the people for the occasion; that’s why everyone is celebrating.” That was the answer.

When she came home she told her son what she had heard. He said, ‘That will not be, because the daughter of the Sultan will have to marry me!’ but she only laughed at him. The next day he brought her three neat little baskets filled with the precious stones which he had gathered in the under-ground garden, and he said, ‘These you must take to the Sultan, and say I want to marry his daughter.’ But she was afraid and would not go; and when at last he made her go, she stood in a corner apart behind all the people, for there was a public audience, and came back and said she could not get at the Sultan; but he made her go again the next two days following, and she always did the same. The last day, however, the Sultan sent for her, saying, ‘Who is that old woman standing in the corner quite apart? bring her to me.’ So they brought her to him all trembling.

When she got home, she told her son what she had heard. He said, “That won't happen, because the Sultan's daughter has to marry me!” but she just laughed at him. The next day, he brought her three neat little baskets filled with the precious stones he had collected from the underground garden and said, “You need to take these to the Sultan and tell him I want to marry his daughter.” But she was scared and wouldn’t go; and when he finally made her go, she stood off to the side behind everyone else since it was a public audience, and came back saying she couldn’t get to the Sultan. He made her go again the next two days, and she always did the same thing. On the last day, however, the Sultan called for her, saying, “Who is that old woman standing in the corner all by herself? Bring her to me.” So they brought her to him, all nervous.

‘Don’t be afraid, old woman,’ said the Sultan. ‘What have you to say?’

‘Don't be afraid, old woman,’ said the Sultan. ‘What do you want to say?’

‘My son, who must have lost his senses, sent me to say he wanted to marry the daughter of the Sultan,’ said the old woman, crying for very fear; ‘and he sends these baskets as a present.’

‘My son, who must have lost his mind, sent me to say he wants to marry the Sultan's daughter,’ said the old woman, crying out of fear; ‘and he sends these baskets as a gift.’

When the Sultan took the baskets and saw of what great value were the contents, he said, ‘Don’t be afraid, old woman; go back and tell your son I will give him an answer in a month.’

When the Sultan picked up the baskets and saw how valuable the contents were, he said, ‘Don’t worry, old woman; go back and tell your son I’ll give him an answer in a month.’

She went back and told her son; but at the end [162]of a week the princess was married, nevertheless, to the son of the Grand Vizier.

She went back and told her son; but at the end [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]of a week, the princess was married, still, to the son of the Grand Vizier.

‘There!’ said the mother, when she heard it; ‘I thought the Grand Sultan was only making game of you. Was it likely that the daughter of the Sultan should marry a beggar,7 like you?’

‘There!’ said the mother when she heard it; ‘I thought the Grand Sultan was just messing with you. Was it really possible that the daughter of the Sultan would marry a beggar, like you?’

‘Don’t be in too great a hurry, mother,’ replied the lad; ‘leave it to me, leave it to me.’8

‘Don’t rush too much, mom,’ the boy replied; ‘trust me, just trust me.’8

With that he went and took out the old lantern, and rubbed it till One appeared asking his pleasure.

With that, he went and got the old lantern and rubbed it until a figure appeared, asking what he wanted.

‘Go to-night, at three hours of night,’9 was his reply, ‘and take the daughter of the Sultan and lay her in a poor wallet in the out-house here.’

‘Go tonight, at three in the morning,’ 9 replied, ‘and take the Sultan’s daughter and put her in a shabby bag in the shed here.’

At three hours of night he went into the out-house and found the princess on the poor wallet as he had commanded. Then he laid his sabre on the bed between them, and sat down and talked to her; but she was too frightened to answer him. This he did three nights running. The princess, however, went crying to her mother, and told her all that had happened. The Sultana could not imagine how it was. ‘But,’ she said, ‘something wrong there must be;’ and she went and told the Sultan, and he, too, said it was all wrong, and that the marriage must be annulled. Also the son of the Grand Vizier went to his father and complained, saying, ‘Every night my wife disappears just at bed-time, and, though the door is locked, I see nothing of her till the next morning.’

At three in the morning, he went to the out-house and found the princess lying on the poor wallet as he had instructed. Then he placed his sword on the bed between them, sat down, and tried to talk to her; but she was too scared to respond. He did this for three nights in a row. However, the princess went to her mother in tears and told her everything that had happened. The Sultana couldn't understand it. “But,” she said, “there must be something wrong here;” and she went to tell the Sultan, who also thought it was strange and decided that the marriage should be canceled. Additionally, the son of the Grand Vizier went to his father and complained, saying, “Every night my wife disappears right at bedtime, and even though the door is locked, I don't see her again until the next morning.”

His father too said, ‘There must be something wrong,’ and when the Sultan said the marriage must be annulled, the Grand Vizier was quite willing. So the marriage was annulled.

His father also said, ‘There must be something wrong,’ and when the Sultan declared that the marriage should be annulled, the Grand Vizier readily agreed. So the marriage was annulled.

At the end of the month, the lad made his mother go back to the Sultan for his answer, and he gave her three other baskets of precious stones to take with her. The Sultan, when he saw the man had so many precious stones [163]to give away, thought he must be in truth a prince in disguise, and he answered, ‘He may come and see us.’ He also said, ‘What is his name that I may know him?’

At the end of the month, the boy made his mother return to the Sultan for his answer, and he gave her three more baskets of precious stones to take with her. When the Sultan saw that the man had so many precious stones [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]to give away, he thought he must really be a prince in disguise, and he replied, “He can come and see us.” He also asked, “What is his name so I can recognize him?”

And his mother said, ‘His name is Cajusse.’

And his mother said, “His name is Cajusse.”

So she went home and told her son what the sultan had said. Then he rubbed the lantern and asked for a suit to wear, all dazzling with gold and silver, and a richly caparisoned horse, and six pages in velvet dresses, four to ride behind, and one to go before with a purse scattering alms to the people, and one to cry, ‘Make place for the Signor Cajusse!’ Thus he came to the sultan, and the sultan received him well, and gave him his daughter to be his wife; but Cajusse had brought the lantern with him, and he rubbed it, and ordered that there should stand by the side of the sultan’s palace a palace a great deal handsomer, furnished with every luxury, and that all the windows should be encrusted round with precious stones, all but one. This was all done as he had said, and he took the princess home with him to live there. Then he showed her all over the beautiful palace, and showed her the windows all encrusted with gems, ‘and in this vacant one,’ said he, ‘we will put those in the six baskets I sent you before the sultan consented to our marriage; ‘and they did so; but they did not suffice.

So she went home and told her son what the sultan had said. Then he rubbed the lantern and asked for a dazzling suit made of gold and silver, a beautifully adorned horse, and six pages in velvet outfits—four to ride behind him, one to ride ahead scattering coins to the people, and another to shout, ‘Make way for Signor Cajusse!’ He arrived at the sultan's palace, where he was warmly welcomed, and the sultan gave him his daughter to be his wife. Cajusse had brought the lantern with him, and after rubbing it, he wished for a much grander palace to stand next to the sultan’s, filled with every luxury and with all the windows decorated with precious stones, except for one. Everything happened just as he asked, and he took the princess home to live there. He showed her around the beautiful palace, pointing out the gem-encrusted windows, and said, ‘In this empty one, we will place those jewels in the six baskets I sent you before the sultan agreed to our marriage;’ and they did, but it still wasn’t enough.

But the magician meantime had learnt by his incantations what had happened, and in order to get possession of the lantern he watched till Cajusse was gone out hunting; then he came by dressed as a pedlar of metal work,10 and offered to exchange old lanterns for new ones. The princess thought to make a capital bargain by exchanging Cajusse’s shabby old lantern for a brand new one, and thus fell into his snare. The magician no sooner had possession of it than he rubbed it, and ordered that the palace and all that was in it should be transported on to the high seas.

But meanwhile, the magician had figured out through his spells what had happened, and to get hold of the lantern, he waited until Cajusse went out hunting. Then he came by dressed as a metalwork peddler and offered to trade old lanterns for new ones. The princess thought she could make a great deal by swapping Cajusse’s worn-out lantern for a shiny new one, and she fell right into his trap. As soon as the magician had it, he rubbed it and commanded that the palace and everything inside it should be moved out onto the open sea.

The sultan happened to look out of window just as the [164]palace of Cajusse had disappeared. ‘What is this?’ he cried. And when he found the palace was really gone, he uttered so many furious threats that the people, who loved Cajusse well, ran out to meet him as he came home from hunting, and told him of all that had happened, and warned him of the sultan’s wrath. Instead of going back to be put in prison by the sultan therefore, he rubbed his ring and desired to be taken to the place wherever the princess was. Instantly he found himself on a floating rock in mid ocean, at the foot of the palace. Then he went to the gate and sounded the horn.11 The princess knew her husband’s note of sounding and ran to the window. Great was her delight when she saw that it was really he, and she told him that there was a horrid old man who had possession of the palace, and persecuted her every day to marry him, saying her husband was dead. And she, to keep him at a distance, yet without offending him lest he should kill her, had said: ‘No, I have always resolved never to marry an old man, because then if he dies I should be left alone, and that would be too sad.’ ‘But when I say that,’ she continued, ‘he always says, “You need not be afraid of that, for I shall never die!” so I don’t know what to say next.’

The sultan happened to look out the window just as the [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] palace of Cajusse had vanished. ‘What’s going on?’ he shouted. And when he realized the palace was really gone, he made so many furious threats that the people, who cared for Cajusse, rushed to meet him as he returned from hunting, telling him everything that had happened and warning him about the sultan’s anger. So instead of going back to face imprisonment by the sultan, he rubbed his ring and wished to be taken to wherever the princess was. In an instant, he found himself on a floating rock in the middle of the ocean, at the base of the palace. Then he went to the gate and blew the horn.11 The princess recognized her husband's horn and rushed to the window. She was overjoyed to see it was really him, and she explained that there was a creepy old man who had taken over the palace and harassed her every day to marry him, claiming her husband was dead. To keep him at a distance without offending him—fearing he might kill her—she said, ‘No, I’ve always promised never to marry an old man because if he dies, I’d be left all alone, and that would be too sad.’ ‘But whenever I say that,’ she continued, ‘he always replies, “You don’t have to worry about that, because I will never die!” So I don’t know what to say next.’

Then the prince said, ‘Make a great feast to-night, and say you will marry him if he tells you one thing: say it is impossible that he should never die, for all people die some day or other; it is impossible but that there should be some one thing or other that is fatal to him; ask him what that one fatal thing is, and he, thinking you want to know it that you may guard him against it, will tell; then come and tell me what he says.’

Then the prince said, ‘Throw a big party tonight, and tell him that you’ll marry him if he can tell you one thing: say it’s impossible for anyone to never die, because everyone dies eventually; there must be something that could be deadly for him; ask him what that one deadly thing is, and he, thinking you want to know it so you can protect him from it, will tell you; then come back and tell me what he says.’

The princess did all her husband had told her, and then came back and repeated what the magician had said: ‘One must go into the wood,’ she repeated, ‘where is the beast called hydra, and cut off all his seven heads. In the head which is in the middle of the other six, if it is split [165]open, will be found a leveret; if this leveret is caught and his head split open there is a bird; if this bird is caught and his head split open, there is in it a precious stone. If that stone is put under my pillow I must die.’

The princess did everything her husband asked of her and then returned to explain what the magician had said: “You have to go into the woods,” she reiterated, “where the beast called the hydra is, and cut off all its seven heads. In the head that’s in the middle of the other six, if you split it open, you’ll find a leveret; if you catch this leveret and split its head open, you’ll find a bird; if you catch this bird and split its head open, there’ll be a precious stone inside. If that stone is placed under my pillow, I will die.”

The prince did not wait for anything more: he rubbed the ring, and desired to be carried to the wood where the hydra lived. Instantly he found himself face to face with the hydra, who came forward spueing fire. But Cajusse had also asked for a coat of mail and a mighty sword, and with one blow he cut off the seven heads. Then he called to his servant to take notice which was the head which was in the middle of the other six, and the servant pointed it out. Then he said, ‘Watch when I split it open, for a leveret will jump out. Beware lest it escapes.’ The servant stood to catch it, but it was so swift it ran past the servant. The prince, however, was swifter than it, and overtook it and killed it. Then he said, ‘Beware when I split open the head of the leveret. A little bird will fly out; mind that it escapes not, for we are undone if it escapes.’ So the servant stood ready to catch the bird, but the bird was so swift it flew past the servant. The prince, however, was swifter than the bird, and he overtook it and killed it, and split open its head and took out the precious stone. Then he rubbed the ring and bid it take him back to the princess. The princess was waiting for him at the window.

The prince didn’t wait for anything else: he rubbed the ring and wished to be taken to the forest where the hydra lived. In an instant, he found himself face to face with the hydra, which approached belching fire. But Cajusse had also requested armor and a powerful sword, and with one strike, he cut off all seven heads. Then he told his servant to pay attention to which head was in the middle of the other six, and the servant pointed it out. He then said, "Watch when I split it open, because a leveret will jump out. Make sure it doesn't escape." The servant was ready to catch it, but it was so fast that it zipped past him. However, the prince was quicker than it, caught it, and killed it. Then he said, "Be careful when I split open the head of the leveret. A little bird will fly out; make sure it doesn't escape, or we’ll be in trouble." So the servant stood by to catch the bird, but it flew past him in an instant. The prince, however, was quicker than the bird, caught it, and killed it, then opened its head and took out the precious stone. After that, he rubbed the ring and wished to return to the princess. The princess was waiting for him at the window.

‘Here is the stone,’ said the prince; and he gave it to her, and with it a bottle of opium. ‘To-night,’ he said, ‘you must say you are ready to marry the wizard; make a great feast again, and have ready some of this opium in his wine. He will sleep heavily, and not see what you are doing; then you can put the stone under his pillow and when he is dead call me.’

‘Here’s the stone,’ said the prince, handing it to her along with a bottle of opium. ‘Tonight, you need to say you’re ready to marry the wizard; throw another big feast and mix some of this opium into his wine. He’ll fall into a deep sleep and won’t notice what you’re doing; then you can slip the stone under his pillow, and when he’s dead, call me.’

All this the princess did. She told the wizard that she was now ready to do as he wished. The magician was so delighted that he ordered a great banquet. [166]

All this the princess did. She told the wizard that she was now ready to do what he wanted. The magician was so thrilled that he arranged a huge feast. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Here,’ said the princess at the banquet, ‘is a little of my father’s choicest wine, which I had with me in the palace when it was brought hither,’ and she poured out to him to drink of the wine mixed with opium.

‘Here,’ said the princess at the banquet, ‘is a little of my father’s finest wine, which I had with me in the palace when it was brought here,’ and she poured out the wine mixed with opium for him to drink.

After this, when the wizard went to bed, he was heavy and took no notice what she did, and thus she put the stone under his pillow. No sooner did he, therefore, lay his head on the pillow than he gave three terrible yells, turned himself round and round three times, and was dead.

After that, when the wizard went to bed, he was tired and didn’t notice what she was doing, so she placed the stone under his pillow. As soon as he laid his head down, he let out three awful screams, spun around three times, and then died.

There was no need to call the prince, for he had heard the death yells, and immediately came up. They found the lantern, after they had hunted everywhere in vain, tied on to the magician’s body under all his clothes, for he had hid it there that he might never part with it. By its power Cajusse ordered the palace to be removed back to its place, and there they lived happily for ever afterwards. [167]

There was no need to call the prince, because he had heard the death cries and came right away. They finally found the lantern, after searching everywhere with no luck, tied to the magician’s body under all his clothes, since he had hidden it there to keep it with him. Using its power, Cajusse commanded the palace to be moved back to its original spot, and they lived happily ever after. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

[The introduction into this story of the dog to be appeased with a sop, and the hydra to be slain, no trace of either occurring in ‘Aladdin’s Lamp,’ is noticeable; the incident of the unjewelled window loses its point, probably through want of memory. The transporting the palace into the middle of the sea is a novel introduction; but the most remarkable change is in the mode of compassing the death of the magician. This episode as here described enters into a vast number of tales. It occurs in a Hungarian one I have in MS.:—A king directs in dying that his three sons shall go out to learn experience by adventure before they succeed to the throne. The first two nights of the journey the two elder brothers keep watch in turn, while the others sleep, and each kills a dragon. The third night, István (Stephen), the youngest, keeps watch, and is enticed away by the cries for help of a frog, which he delivers, but when he comes back the watch-fire is out. He has now to wander in search of fresh fire; he sees a spark in the distance and makes for it; by the way he meets ‘Dame Midnight,’ who tells him the fire is a week’s journey off, so he binds her to a tree, and the same with ‘The Lady Dawn,’ so that it might not be day before his return. In a week he [168]reaches the fire, but three giants guard it, who are laying siege to a vár (fortress) to obtain possession of three beautiful maidens, whom they destined to be the brides of the King of the Dwarfs and of the very two dragons his brothers had killed. But before they give him of their fire they say he must help them in the siege. He, however, kills them by stratagem, and makes his way into the princesses’ sleeping apartment, takes three pledges of his having been there, and returns to his brothers. They continue their wanderings till they come to an inn where the three princesses and the king their father have established themselves in disguise, and make all who pass that way tell the tale of their adventures as a means of discovering who it was delivered them from the giants. The princes make themselves known, and the king bestows his daughters on them. As they drive home with their brides, they pass the Dwarf-King in a ditch by the roadside, who implores them to deliver him. The two elder brothers take no notice. István stops and helps him out. The dwarf with his supernatural strength thrusts István back into the ditch, and drives off with his bride. István sets out to search after and recover her; he meets the frog he delivered, who gives him supernatural aid, and leads him through heroic adventures in which he does service to other persons and animals, who in turn assist him by directing him to the palace of the Dwarf-King. Here exactly the same scene occurs between István and his bride as between Cajusse and the sultan’s daughter, and they lay the same plan. But the Dwarf-King is more astute than the magician, and he at first tells her that his life’s safety lies in his sceptre, on which she makes him give her the sceptre, ‘that she may take care of it,’ in reality intending to give it up to István. When he sees her so anxious for his safety, he tells her it is not in the sceptre, but he does not yet tell the truth; he next says it is in the royal mantle, and then in the crown (incidents proper to the version of Hungary, which sets so great store by the royal crown and mantle). Ultimately he confides that it resides in a golden cockchafer, inside a golden cock, inside a golden sheep, inside a golden stag, in the ninety-ninth sziget (island). She communicates all this to István. He overcomes the above-named series of golden animals by the aid of the animals he lately assisted, and thus recovers his bride. [169]

[The introduction of the dog meant to be calmed with a treat, and the monster to be defeated, which aren’t found in ‘Aladdin’s Lamp,’ is noteworthy; the story of the unadorned window loses its meaning, likely due to forgetfulness. The idea of moving the palace into the middle of the sea is a fresh twist; however, the most striking change is how the magician's death is achieved. This occurrence, as described here, appears in many tales. It’s similar to a Hungarian story I have in manuscript: A king, on his deathbed, instructs that his three sons should go out to gain experience through adventure before they inherit the throne. During the first two nights, the older brothers take turns watching while the others sleep, and each slays a dragon. On the third night, István (Stephen), the youngest, is on watch and is lured away by the cries of a frog in distress, which he rescues. When he returns, the campfire has gone out. He has to search for a new fire; he spots a spark in the distance and heads toward it. On the way, he encounters 'Dame Midnight,' who informs him that the fire is a week's journey away, so he ties her to a tree, along with 'The Lady Dawn,' to prevent daybreak before his return. After a week he [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] arrives at the fire, but it is guarded by three giants who are besieging a fortress to capture three beautiful maidens meant to be the brides of the King of the Dwarfs and the two dragons his brothers defeated. However, before they share their fire, they demand his help with the siege. Instead, he cleverly defeats them and sneaks into the princesses' sleeping quarters, leaving three tokens as proof of his visit, and then returns to his brothers. They continue their travels until they find an inn where the three princesses and their father, the king, are disguised, asking everyone who passes to share their stories of adventure to find out who saved them from the giants. The princes reveal their identities, and the king offers his daughters to them. As they head home with their brides, they see the Dwarf-King stuck in a ditch by the roadside, begging for help. The two older brothers ignore him, but István stops and pulls him out. Using his supernatural strength, the dwarf shoves István back into the ditch and drives off with István's bride. István sets off to find and rescue her; he encounters the frog he saved, who provides him with extraordinary assistance and guides him through heroic exploits where he helps other people and animals, who in return direct him to the Dwarf-King's palace. There, the same scene unfolds between István and his bride as it did between Cajusse and the sultan’s daughter, and they devise a similar plan. However, the Dwarf-King is more cunning than the magician; initially, he tells her that his safety relies on his scepter, which she persuades him to give her ‘for safekeeping,’ intending to hand it over to István. When he sees her eagerness for his safety, he claims it’s not in the scepter, and then doesn’t tell the complete truth; next, he says it's in the royal mantle, and finally, in the crown (elements specific to the Hungarian version, which values the royal crown and mantle highly). Ultimately, he confides that his safety lies in a golden beetle, which is inside a golden rooster, which is inside a golden sheep, which is inside a golden stag, on the ninety-ninth sziget (island). She passes all this information to István. With the help of the animals he assisted before, he defeats the series of golden creatures and rescues his bride. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

All these incidents (somewhat differently worked in), occur in the Norse tale of ‘The Giant who had no Heart in His Body,’ and in the Russian ‘Koschei the Deathless,’ and in many others.

All these incidents (each with some variations) appear in the Norse tale of ‘The Giant Who Had No Heart in His Body,’ in the Russian ‘Koschei the Deathless,’ and in many others.

I have other of the ‘Arabian Night’ stories, told with the local colouring of characters and incidents proper to the neighbourhood of Rome; particularly various versions of ‘The Forty Thieves,’ leading to a number of Brigand stories, for which I have not space left in this volume.] [171]

I have more of the 'Arabian Nights' stories, told with the local flavor of characters and events typical to the area around Rome; especially different versions of 'The Forty Thieves,' which lead to several Brigand stories, but I don't have enough space left in this volume. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Il Matrimonio di Cajusse,’ I should imagine Caius was the right reading. Italians, though they are so fond of clipping off the final vowel of their own words, whenever they get hold of a foreign word ending in a consonant must needs always add a syllable on to it. The narrator in this instance could not spell, and I write the word as she pronounced it. Meeting with so close a counterpart of ‘Aladdin’s Lamp,’ I cross-questioned the narrator very closely as to whether she had not read it, but she assured me most solemnly that her mother had told it her when she was not more than five years old; that it was impossible she could have read it, as she could only read very imperfectly, only a few easy sentences; she had never in her life read anything long. I further elicited that it was possible her mother might have read it; but I am inclined to think she said this rather to improve my idea of her family, than because she thought it was really the case. ↑

1 ‘The Wedding of Cajusse,’ I would guess Caius was the right spelling. Italians, while they love shortening the last vowel of their own words, always seem to add a syllable when they come across a foreign word that ends in a consonant. In this case, the narrator couldn’t spell, so I wrote the word as she pronounced it. Seeing such a close parallel to ‘Aladdin’s Lamp,’ I pressed the narrator quite a bit to find out if she had read it, but she earnestly told me that her mother had told it to her when she was only five years old; that it was impossible for her to have read it herself since she could only read very imperfectly, just a few easy sentences; she had never read anything long in her life. I also gathered that it was possible her mother might have read it; however, I suspect she said this more to enhance my impression of her family than because she truly believed it. ↑

2 ‘Piastra.’ In Melchiorri’s ‘Guida Metodica di Roma,’ ed. 1856, in the list of moneys current the half-scudo is put down as ‘commonly called mezza piastra.’ I do not remember to have heard it so used myself, though I have heard old people talk of piastres, the value of which would thus be the same as a scudo, or about five francs: an old inhabitant told me it was 7½ bajocchi, more than a scudo. ↑

2 ‘Piastra.’ In Melchiorri’s ‘Guide to Rome,’ published in 1856, the half-scudo is listed as ‘commonly called mezza piastra.’ I don’t recall hearing it used that way myself, but I've heard older people mention piastres, which would be valued the same as a scudo, or about five francs: an elderly local told me it was 7½ bajocchi, more than a scudo. ↑

3 ‘Mago.’ I asked the narrator what her idea of a ‘mago’ was, and she said, ‘Something like a stregone (masculine of strega, witch), only not quite so bad.’ ↑

3 ‘Mago.’ I asked the narrator what she thought a ‘mago’ was, and she said, ‘Something like a stregone (the masculine form of strega, witch), but not quite as evil.’ ↑

4 Genii having no place in modern Italian mythology, the ‘Genius of the Lamp’ loses his identity here. ↑

4 In modern Italian mythology, Genii don't have a place, so the 'Genius of the Lamp' loses his identity here. ↑

5 ‘Posate,’ spoons and forks. I spare the reader the enumeration of the Roman dishes which were detailed to me as figuring on the table, as I have had to quote many of them in other stories. ↑

5 ‘Cutlery,’ spoons and forks. I’ll skip listing the Roman dishes that were described to me as being on the table since I’ve mentioned many of them in other stories. ↑

6 ‘I always used to wonder,’ observed the narrator very pertinently, ‘as my mother told me this, why they didn’t rub the lamp again and ask for what they wanted, instead of going about pawning the posate. I suppose they had forgotten about it.’ ↑

6 ‘I always wondered,’ the narrator noted wisely, ‘when my mother told me this, why they didn’t just rub the lamp again and ask for what they wanted instead of going around pawning the posate. I guess they must have forgotten about it.’ ↑

7 ‘Pezzente,’ a sorry fellow; literally beggar. ↑

7 ‘Pezzente,’ a pitiful guy; basically a beggar. ↑

8 ‘Che ci penso io’ is a saying ever in the mouth of a Roman. Whatever you may be giving directions about, they always stop you with ‘Lasci far a me, che ci penso io’ (‘Leave it to me; I’ll manage it.’) ↑

8 ‘Che ci penso io’ is a phrase commonly heard in Rome. No matter what you're giving directions about, they always interrupt you with ‘Lasci far a me, che ci penso io’ (‘Leave it to me; I'll handle it.’) ↑

9 ‘Tre ore di notte’ means three hours after the evening Ave. If it was summer-time this would be about 11 P.M. A subject of the ‘Gran Sultan’ being supposed to measure time by the Ave Maria is not one of the least bizarre of traditionary accretions. ↑

9 ‘Tre ore di notte’ means three hours after the evening Ave. If it was summer, that would be around 11 PM The idea that the ‘Gran Sultan’ measures time by the Ave Maria is one of the more unusual traditions. ↑

10 ‘Chincaglieria,’ all kinds of small articles of metal-work. ↑

10 ‘Chincaglieria,’ various small metal pieces. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

11 ‘Frāvodo.’ As I had never heard the word before, I was very particular in making the narrator repeat it, to take it down. She described it as a horn or trumpet, but I cannot meet with the word in any dictionary. ↑

11 ‘Frāvodo.’ Since I had never heard that word before, I made sure to have the narrator say it again so I could write it down. She explained that it was a horn or trumpet, but I can't find the word in any dictionary. ↑

LEGENDARY TALES AND ESEMPJ.

[173]

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WHEN JESUS CHRIST WANDERED ON EARTH.

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1

One day the Madonna was carrying the Bambino through a lupin-field, and the stalks of the lupins rustled so, that she thought it was a robber coming to kill the Santo Bambino.1 She turned, and sent a malediction over the lupin-field, and immediately the lupins all withered away and fell flat and dry on the ground, so that she could see there was no one hidden there. When she saw there was no one hidden there, she sent a benediction over the lupin-field, and the lupins all stood up straight again, fair and flourishing, and with tenfold greater produce than they had at the first.

One day, the Madonna was walking through a lupin field with the Bambino, and the stalks of the lupins rustled so much that she thought it was a robber coming to harm the Santo Bambino.1 She turned and cursed the lupin field, and immediately the lupins withered and fell flat and dry on the ground, revealing that no one was hiding there. When she saw there was no one there, she blessed the lupin field, and the lupins stood back up straight, looking beautiful and flourishing, and producing ten times more than they had before.

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2

One day when Jesus Christ was grown up, and went about preaching, He came to a certain village and knocked at the first door, and said, ‘Give me a lodging.’2 But the master of the house shut the door in his face, saying, ‘Here is nothing for you.’ He came to the next house, and received the same answer; and the next, and the next, no one in all the village would take Him in. Weary and footsore, He came to the cottage of a poor little old woman, who lived all alone on the outskirts, and knocked there. ‘Who is there?’3 asked the old woman. ‘The Master with the Apostles,’ answered Jesus Christ. The old woman opened the door, and let them all in. ‘Have you no fire?’ asked Jesus Christ. ‘No fire have I,’ answered the old woman. Then Jesus Christ blessed the hearth, and there came a pile of wood on it, [174]and a fire was soon made. ‘Have you nothing to give us to eat?’ asked Jesus Christ. ‘Nothing worth offering you,’ answered the old woman; ‘here is a little fish’ (it was a little fish, that, not so long as my hand) ‘and some crusts of bread, which they gave me at the eating-shop in charity just now, and that’s all I have;’ and she set both on the table. ‘Have you no wine?’ again asked Jesus Christ. ‘Only this flask of wine and water they gave me there, too;’ and she set it before Him.

One day when Jesus Christ was grown up and out preaching, He came to a village and knocked on the first door, saying, ‘Please give me a place to stay.’2 But the homeowner shut the door in His face, saying, ‘I have nothing for you.’ He went to the next house and got the same response, then the next, and the next—no one in the village would take Him in. Tired and sore from walking, He arrived at the home of a poor old woman who lived alone on the outskirts and knocked on her door. ‘Who is it?’3 asked the old woman. ‘It’s the Master with the Apostles,’ answered Jesus Christ. The old woman opened the door and let them all in. ‘Do you have a fire?’ asked Jesus Christ. ‘I have no fire,’ replied the old woman. Then Jesus Christ blessed the hearth, and a pile of wood appeared on it, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] and soon a fire was made. ‘Do you have anything to eat?’ asked Jesus Christ. ‘Nothing worth giving you,’ said the old woman; ‘here’s a little fish’ (it was a small fish, no bigger than my hand) ‘and some crusts of bread that they gave me at the eating shop just now, and that’s all I have;’ and she placed both on the table. ‘Do you have any wine?’ Jesus Christ asked again. ‘Just this flask of wine and water they gave me there too;’ and she brought it to Him.

Then Jesus Christ blessed all the things, and handed them round the table, and they all dined off them, and at the end there remained just the same as at the beginning. When they had finished, He said to the old woman, ‘This fire, with the bread, and the fish, and the wine, will always remain to you, and never diminish as long as you live. And now follow Me a little way.’

Then Jesus Christ blessed everything and passed it around the table, and they all ate from it, and in the end, there was just as much as there was at the start. When they were done, He said to the old woman, ‘This fire, along with the bread, the fish, and the wine, will always be there for you and will never run out as long as you live. Now, come with Me a little way.’

The Master went on before with His Apostles, and the old woman followed after, a little way behind. And behold, as they walked along, all the houses of that inhospitable village fell down one after the other, and all the inhabitants were buried under them. Only the cottage of the old woman was left standing. When the judgment was complete, Jesus Christ said to her, ‘Now, return home.’4

The Master walked ahead with His Apostles, and the old woman trailed a little behind. As they continued on, all the houses in that unwelcoming village collapsed one after another, burying all the residents beneath the rubble. Only the old woman's cottage remained intact. Once the judgment was over, Jesus Christ said to her, ‘Now, go back home.’4

As she turned to go, St. Peter said to her, ‘Ask for the salvation of your soul.’ And she went and asked it of Jesus Christ, and He replied, ‘Let it be granted you!’

As she turned to leave, St. Peter said to her, ‘Ask for the salvation of your soul.’ So, she went and asked Jesus Christ for it, and He replied, ‘Let it be granted to you!’

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3

One day as He was going into the Temple, He saw two men quarrelling before the door: a young man and an old man. The young man wanted to go in first, and the old man was vindicating the honour of his grey hairs.

One day, as He was entering the Temple, He saw two men arguing at the door: a young man and an old man. The young man wanted to go in first, while the old man was defending the respect due to his gray hair.

‘What is the matter?’ asked Jesus Christ; and they showed Him wherefore they strove. [175]

‘What’s going on?’ asked Jesus Christ; and they showed Him why they were arguing. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Jesus Christ said to the young man, ‘If you are desirous to go in first, you must accept the state to which honour belongs,’ and He touched him, and he became an old man, bowed in gait, feeble, and grey-haired, while to the old man He gave the compensation for the insult he had received, by investing him with the youth of the other.

Jesus Christ said to the young man, “If you want to go first, you need to accept the position that comes with honor,” and He touched him, causing him to become an old man, stooped in posture, weak, and gray-haired, while He rewarded the old man for the insult he had endured by restoring him to the youth of the other.

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4

In the days when Jesus Christ roamed the earth, He found Himself one day with His disciples in the Campagna, far from anything like home. The only shelter in sight was a cottage of wretched aspect. Jesus Christ knocked at the door.

In the days when Jesus Christ walked the earth, He found Himself one day with His disciples in the Campagna, far from anything resembling home. The only shelter in sight was a shabby cottage. Jesus Christ knocked at the door.

‘Who is there?’ said a tremulous voice from within.

‘Who’s there?’ said a shaky voice from inside.

‘The Master with the disciples,’ answered Jesus Christ. The man didn’t know what He meant; nevertheless, the tone was too gentle to inspire fear, so he opened, and let them all in.

‘The Teacher with the followers,’ Jesus Christ replied. The man didn’t understand what He meant; however, the tone was too kind to cause fear, so he opened the door and let them all in.

‘Have you no fire to give us?’ asked Jesus Christ.

‘Don’t you have any fire to share with us?’ asked Jesus Christ.

‘I’m only a poor beggar. I never have any fire,’ said the man.

‘I’m just a poor beggar. I never have any fire,’ said the man.

‘But these poor things,’ said Jesus Christ, ‘are stiff with cold and weariness; they must have a fire.’

‘But these poor souls,’ said Jesus Christ, ‘are frozen with cold and exhaustion; they need a fire.’

Then Jesus Christ stood on the hearth, and blessed it, and there came a great blazing fire of heaped-up wood. When the beggar saw it, he fell on his knees in astonishment.

Then Jesus Christ stood on the hearth and blessed it, and a huge blazing fire sprang up from the piled wood. When the beggar saw this, he fell to his knees in shock.

‘Have you no food to set before us?’ asked Jesus Christ.

‘Do you have any food to share with us?’ asked Jesus Christ.

‘I have one loaf of Indian corn,5 which is at your service,’ answered the beggar.

‘I have one loaf of Indian corn, 5 which is available for you,’ replied the beggar.

‘One loaf is not enough,’ answered Jesus Christ; ‘have you nothing else at all?’

‘One loaf isn’t enough,’ replied Jesus Christ; ‘do you have anything else at all?’

‘Nothing at all about the place that can be eaten,’ answered the beggar. ‘Leastwise, I have one ewe, which is at your service.’ [176]

‘There's nothing here that can be eaten,’ replied the beggar. ‘At least, I have one ewe, which is available for you.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘That will do,’ answered Jesus Christ; and he sent St. Peter to help the man to prepare it for dressing.

‘That’s enough,’ said Jesus Christ; and he sent St. Peter to help the man get it ready for dressing.

‘Here is the mutton,’ said the beggar; ‘but I cannot cook it, because I have no lard.’6

‘Here is the mutton,’ said the beggar; ‘but I can’t cook it because I don’t have any lard.’6

‘Look!’ said Jesus Christ.

"Check this out!" said Jesus Christ.

The beggar looked on the hearth, and saw everything that was necessary ready for use.

The beggar looked at the fireplace and saw everything he needed was ready to use.

‘Now, then, bring the wine and the bread,’ said Jesus Christ, when the meat was nearly ready.

‘Alright, bring the wine and the bread,’ said Jesus Christ, when the meat was almost ready.

‘There is the only loaf I have,’ said the beggar, setting the polenta loaf on the table; ‘but, as for wine, I never see such a thing.’

‘This is the only loaf I have,’ said the beggar, placing the polenta loaf on the table; ‘but as for wine, I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘Is there none in the cellar?’ asked Jesus Christ.

‘Is there no one in the cellar?’ asked Jesus Christ.

‘In the cellar are only a dozen empty old broken wine-jars that have been there these hundred years; they are well covered with mould.’ Jesus Christ told St. Peter to go down and see, and when he went down with the beggar, there was a whole ovenful of fresh-baked bread boiling hot,7 and beyond, in the cellar, the jars, instead of being broken and musty, were all standing whole and upright, and filled with excellent wine.

‘In the cellar, there are only a dozen empty old broken wine jars that have been there for a hundred years; they’re well covered with mold.’ Jesus Christ told St. Peter to go down and take a look, and when he went down with the beggar, there was a whole ovenful of fresh-baked bread, steaming hot, and in the cellar, the jars, instead of being broken and musty, were all standing intact and upright, filled with excellent wine.

‘See how you told us falsely,’ said St. Peter, to tease him.

‘Look at how you lied to us,’ said St. Peter, to tease him.

‘Upon my word, it was even as I said, before you came.’

‘Honestly, it was exactly as I said, before you showed up.’

‘Then it is the Master who has done these wonderful things,’ answered St. Peter. ‘Praise Him!’

‘Then it’s the Master who has done these amazing things,’ replied St. Peter. ‘Praise Him!’

Now the meat was cooked and ready, and they all sat down to table; but Jesus Christ took a bowl and placed it in the midst of the table and said, ‘Let all the bones be put into this bowl;’ and when they had finished he took the bones and threw them out of the window, and said, ‘Behold, I give you an hundred for one.’ After that they all laid them down and slept.

Now the meat was cooked and ready, and they all sat down at the table; but Jesus Christ took a bowl and placed it in the middle of the table and said, ‘Let all the bones go into this bowl;’ and when they finished, he took the bones and threw them out of the window, saying, ‘Look, I give you one hundred for one.’ After that, they all lay down and slept.

In the morning when they opened the door to go, behold there were an hundred sheep grazing before the door. [177]

In the morning when they opened the door to go, there were a hundred sheep grazing in front of the door. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘These sheep are yours,’ said Jesus Christ; ‘moreover, as long as you live, neither the bread in the oven nor the wine in the cellar shall fail;’ and He passed out and the disciples after Him.

‘These sheep are yours,’ said Jesus Christ; ‘also, as long as you live, neither the bread in the oven nor the wine in the cellar will run out;’ and He fell asleep and the disciples followed Him.

But St. Peter remained behind, and said to the man who had entertained them, ‘The Master has rewarded you generously, but He has one greater gift yet which He will give you if you ask Him.’

But St. Peter stayed back and told the man who had hosted them, ‘The Master has rewarded you well, but He has an even greater gift to give you if you ask Him.’

‘What is it? tell me what is it?’ said the beggar.

‘What is it? Tell me, what is it?’ said the beggar.

‘The salvation of your soul,’ answered St. Peter.

'The salvation of your soul,' answered St. Peter.

‘Signore! Signore! add to all Thou hast given this further, the salvation of my soul,’ cried the man.

‘Sir! Sir! please add to all that You have given this further, the salvation of my soul,’ cried the man.

‘Let it be granted thee,’8 answered the Lord, and passed on His way.

‘Let it be granted to you,’ 8 replied to the Lord, and continued on His way.

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5

Another day Jesus Christ and His disciples dined at a tavern.9

Another day, Jesus Christ and His disciples had dinner at a tavern.9

‘What’s to pay?’ said Jesus Christ, when they had finished their meal.

‘What do we owe?’ said Jesus Christ, when they had finished their meal.

‘Nothing at all,’ answered the host.

‘Nothing at all,’ replied the host.

But the host had a little hunchback son, who said to him, ‘I know some have found it answer to give these people food instead of making them pay for it; but suppose they forget to give us anything, we shall be worse off than if we had been paid in the regular way. I will tell you what I’ll do now, so as to have a hold over them. I’ll take one of our silver spoons and put it in the bag that one of them carries, and accuse them of stealing it.’

But the host had a little hunchbacked son, who said to him, “I know some people have found it helpful to give these folks food instead of charging them for it; but what if they forget to give us anything? We’ll be worse off than if we had been paid normally. Here’s what I’ll do to have some leverage over them: I’ll take one of our silver spoons and slip it into the bag one of them is carrying, then accuse them of stealing it.”

Now St. Peter was a great eater, and when anything was left over from a good meal he was wont to put it by in a bag against a day when they had nothing. Into this bag therefore the hunchback put the silver spoon.

Now St. Peter was a big eater, and when there was anything left over from a good meal, he usually stored it in a bag for a day when they had nothing. So, into this bag, the hunchback put the silver spoon.

When they had gone on a little way the young hunchback ran after them and said to Jesus Christ,—

When they had walked a little farther, the young hunchback ran after them and said to Jesus Christ,—

‘Signore! one of these with you has stolen a spoon from us.’ [178]

‘Sir! One of these people with you has stolen a spoon from us.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘You are mistaken, friend; there is not one of them who would do such a thing.’

‘You’re wrong, my friend; none of them would do something like that.’

‘Yes,’ persevered the hunchback; ‘it is that one who took it,’ and he pointed to St. Peter.

'Yes,' the hunchback insisted; 'it's that one who took it,' and he pointed to St. Peter.

‘I!!’ said St. Peter, getting very angry. ‘How dare you to say such a thing of me!’

‘I!!’ St. Peter said, getting really angry. ‘How dare you say something like that about me!’

But Jesus Christ made him a sign that he should keep silence.

But Jesus Christ signaled to him to stay quiet.

‘We will go back to your house and help you to look for what you have lost, for that none of us have taken the spoon is most certain,’ He said; and He went back with the hunchback.

‘We’ll go back to your house and help you look for what you’ve lost, because it’s certain that none of us took the spoon,’ he said, and he went back with the hunchback.

‘There is nowhere to search,’ answered the hunchback, ‘but in that man’s bag; I know it is there, because I saw him take it.’

‘There’s nowhere else to look,’ replied the hunchback, ‘except in that guy's bag; I know it’s there because I saw him take it.’

‘Then there’s my bag inside out,’ said St. Peter, as he cast the contents upon the floor. Of course the silver spoon fell clattering upon the bricks.

‘Then there’s my bag inside out,’ said St. Peter, as he dumped the contents on the floor. Of course the silver spoon fell clattering onto the bricks.

‘There!’ said the hunchback, insolently. ‘Didn’t I tell you it was there? You said it wasn’t!’

‘There!’ said the hunchback, defiantly. ‘Didn’t I tell you it was there? You said it wasn’t!’

St. Peter was so angry he could not trust himself to speak; but Jesus Christ answered for him:

St. Peter was so angry that he couldn't trust himself to speak; but Jesus Christ spoke on his behalf:

‘Nay, I said not it was not there, but that none of these had taken it. And now we will see who it was put it there.’ With that He motioned to them all to stand back, while He, standing in the midst and raising his eyes to Heaven, said solemnly,

‘No, I didn’t say it wasn’t there, but that none of these people took it. Now let’s find out who put it there.’ With that, He gestured for everyone to step back, while He, standing in the middle and raising His eyes to Heaven, said solemnly,

‘Let whoso put it in the bag be turned to stone!’

'Whoever puts it in the bag will be turned to stone!'

Even as He spoke the hunchback was turned into stone.

Even as He spoke, the hunchback turned to stone.

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6

There was another tavern, however, where the host was a different sort of man, and not only said he would take nothing when Jesus Christ and His disciples dined there, but really would never take anything; nor was it that by any miracle he had received advantages of another sort, [179]but out of the respect and affection he bore the Master he deemed himself sufficiently paid by the honour of being allowed to minister to Him.

There was another tavern, though, where the owner was a different kind of person. He not only claimed he wouldn’t take anything when Jesus Christ and His disciples ate there, but he truly never took anything. It wasn't that he had received some miraculous benefits in another way, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] but rather out of the respect and affection he had for the Master, he felt he was adequately rewarded by the honor of being able to serve Him.

One day when Jesus Christ and His disciples were going away on a journey, St. Peter went to this host and said, ‘You have been very liberal to us all this time: if you were to ask for some gift, now, you would be sure to get it.’

One day when Jesus Christ and His disciples were setting off on a journey, St. Peter approached the host and said, ‘You’ve been really generous to us all this time; if you were to ask for a favor right now, you would definitely get it.’

‘I don’t know that there is anything that I want,’ said the host. ‘I have a thriving trade, which you see not only supplies all my wants, but leaves me the means of being liberal also; I have no wife to provide for, and no children to leave an inheritance to: so what should I ask for? There is one thing, to be sure, I should like. My only amusement is playing at cards: if He would give me the faculty of always winning, I should like that; it isn’t that I care for what one wins, it is that it is nice to win. Do you think I might ask that?’

"I don't really know if there's anything I want," said the host. "I have a successful business that not only covers all my needs but also lets me be generous; I don't have a wife to take care of or children to leave anything to, so what should I ask for? There is one thing I'd really like, though. My only hobby is playing cards; if He could give me the ability to always win, I'd appreciate that. It's not that I care about what I win, it’s just satisfying to win. Do you think I could ask for that?"

‘I don’t know,’ said St. Peter, gravely. ‘Still you might ask; He is very kind.’

‘I don’t know,’ St. Peter said seriously. ‘But you could ask; He’s very kind.’

The host did ask, and Jesus Christ granted his desire. When St. Peter saw how easily He granted it, he said, ‘If I were you, I should ask something more.’

The host asked, and Jesus Christ granted his wish. When St. Peter saw how easily He granted it, he said, ‘If I were you, I’d ask for something more.’

‘I really don’t know what else I have to ask,’ replied the host, ‘unless it be that I have a fig-tree which bears excellent figs, but I never can get one of them for myself; they are always stolen before I get them. I wish He would order that whoever goes up to steal them might get stuck to the tree till I tell him he may come down.’

‘I honestly don’t know what else I should ask,’ replied the host, ‘except that I have a fig tree that produces amazing figs, but I can never get any for myself; they always get stolen before I can grab them. I wish He would make it so that anyone who tries to steal them would get stuck to the tree until I tell him he can come down.’

‘Well,’ said St. Peter, ‘it is an odd sort of thing to ask, but you might try; He is very kind.’

‘Well,’ said St. Peter, ‘it's a strange thing to ask, but you could give it a shot; He’s really kind.’

The host did ask, and Jesus Christ granted his request. When St. Peter saw that He granted it so easily, he said, ‘If I were you I should ask something more.’

The host asked, and Jesus Christ fulfilled his request. When St. Peter saw how easily He granted it, he said, ‘If I were you, I would ask for something more.’

‘Do you really think I might?’ answered the host. ‘There is one thing I have wanted to ask all along, only I didn’t dare. But you encourage me, and He seems to take [180]a pleasure in giving. I have always had a great wish to live four hundred years.’

‘Do you really think I might?’ replied the host. ‘There’s something I’ve wanted to ask all along, but I didn’t have the courage. But you’re encouraging me, and He seems to enjoy giving. I’ve always had a strong desire to live for four hundred years.’

‘That is certainly a great deal to ask,’ said St. Peter, ‘but you might try; He is very kind.’

"That's definitely a lot to ask," said St. Peter, "but you could give it a shot; He's really nice."

The host did ask, and Jesus Christ granted his petition, and then went His way with His disciples. St. Peter remained last, and said to the host, ‘Now run after him, and ask for the salvation of your soul.’ (‘St. Peter always told them all to ask that,’ added the narrator in a confidential tone.)

The host did ask, and Jesus Christ granted his request, and then went on His way with His disciples. St. Peter stayed behind and said to the host, ‘Now go after him and ask for the salvation of your soul.’ (‘St. Peter always advised them to ask for that,’ the narrator added in a friendly tone.)

‘Oh, I can’t ask anything more, I have asked so much,’ said the host.

‘Oh, I can’t ask for anything more, I’ve asked so much already,’ said the host.

‘But that is just the best thing of all, and what He grants the most willingly,’ insisted St. Peter. ‘Really?’ said the host; and he ran after Jesus Christ, and said, ‘Lord! who hast so largely shown me Thy bounty, grant me further the salvation of my soul.’

‘But that's the best part of all, and what He gives most freely,’ insisted St. Peter. ‘Really?’ said the host; and he ran after Jesus Christ and said, ‘Lord! You who have shown me so much kindness, please grant me the salvation of my soul.’

‘Let it be granted!’ said Jesus Christ; and continued His journey.

‘Let it be granted!’ said Jesus Christ; and continued His journey.

All the things the host had asked he received, and life passed away very pleasantly, but still even four hundred years come to an end at last, and with the end of it came Death.

All the things the host asked for, he got, and life went by really pleasantly. But even four hundred years eventually come to an end, and with that end came Death.

‘What! is that you, Mrs. Death,10 come already?’ said the host.

‘What! Is that you, Mrs. Death,10 come already?’ said the host.

‘Why, it’s time I should come, I think; it’s not often I leave people in peace for four hundred years.’

‘Well, I guess it’s my time to show up; I don’t usually leave people alone for four hundred years.’

‘All right, but don’t be in a hurry. I have such a fancy for the figs of that fig-tree of mine there. I wish you would just have the kindness to go up and pluck a good provision of them to take with me, and by that time I’ll be ready to go with you.’

‘Okay, but don’t rush. I really have a craving for the figs from that fig tree of mine over there. I wish you would kindly go up and pick a good amount of them for me to take along, and by that time, I’ll be ready to go with you.’

‘I’ve no objection to oblige you so far,’ said Mrs. Death; ‘only you must mind and be quite ready by the time I do come back.’

"I don't mind helping you out for now," said Mrs. Death, "but you need to make sure you're completely ready by the time I get back."

‘Never fear,’ said the host; and Mrs. Death climbed up the fig-tree. [181]

‘Don’t worry,’ said the host; and Mrs. Death climbed up the fig tree. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Now stick there!’ said the host, and for all her struggling Mrs. Death could by no means extricate herself any more.

‘Now stay right there!’ said the host, and despite all her efforts, Mrs. Death couldn’t get free anymore.

‘I can’t stay here, so take off your spell; I have my business to attend to,’ said she.

‘I can’t stay here, so break your spell; I have my own things to take care of,’ she said.

‘So have I,’ answered the host; ‘and if you want to go about your business, you must promise me, on your honour, you will leave me to attend to mine.’

‘So have I,’ replied the host; ‘and if you want to get on with your business, you have to promise me, on your honor, that you’ll let me handle mine.’

‘I can’t do it, my man! What are you asking? It’s more than my place is worth. Every man alive has to pass through my hands. I can’t let any of them off.’

‘I can’t do it, man! What are you asking for? It’s worth more than my place. Everyone alive has to go through me. I can't let any of them off.’

‘Well, at all events, leave me alone another four hundred years, and then I’ll come with you. If you’ll promise that, I’ll let you out of the fig-tree.’

‘Well, anyway, leave me alone for another four hundred years, and then I’ll join you. If you promise that, I’ll let you out of the fig-tree.’

‘I don’t mind another four hundred years, if you so particularly wish for them; but mind you give me your word of honour you come then, without giving me all this trouble again.’

‘I don’t mind another four hundred years if you really want them; but promise me on your honor that you’ll come then, without all this hassle again.’

‘Yes! and here’s my hand upon it,’ said the host, as he handed Mrs. Death down from the fig-tree.

‘Yes! And here’s my hand on it,’ said the host, as he helped Mrs. Death down from the fig tree.

And so he went on to live another four hundred years. (‘For you know in those times men lived to a very great age,’ was the running gloss of the narrator.)

And so he went on to live for another four hundred years. (‘For you know, in those times, people lived to a very old age,’ was the narrator's recurring note.)

The end of the second four hundred years came too, and then Mrs. Death appeared again. ‘Remember your promise,’ she said, ‘and don’t try any trick on me this time.’

The end of the second four hundred years came too, and then Mrs. Death appeared again. ‘Remember your promise,’ she said, ‘and don’t try any tricks on me this time.’

‘Oh, yes! I always keep my word,’ said the host, and without more ado he went along with her.

‘Oh, yes! I always stick to my word,’ said the host, and without further delay, he went along with her.

As she was carrying him up to Paradise, they passed the way which led down to Hell, and at the opening sat the Devil, receiving souls which his ministers brought to him from all parts. He was marshalling them into ranks, and ticketing them ready to send off in batches to the distinct place for each.

As she was taking him up to Paradise, they walked by the path that led down to Hell, where the Devil was sitting at the entrance, taking in souls that his minions were bringing from everywhere. He was organizing them into groups and labeling them, preparing to dispatch them in batches to their specific destinations.

‘You seem to have got plenty of souls there, Mr. [182]Devil,’ said the host. ‘Suppose we sit down and play for them?’

‘You seem to have a lot of souls there, Mr. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]Devil,’ said the host. ‘How about we sit down and play for them?’

‘I’ve no objection,’ said the Devil. ‘Your soul against one of these. If I win, you go with them; if you win, one of them goes with you.’

‘I don’t have a problem with that,’ said the Devil. ‘Your soul against one of these. If I win, you go with them; if you win, one of them goes with you.’

‘That’s it,’ said the host, and picking out a nice-looking soul, he set him for the Devil’s stake.

‘That’s it,’ said the host, and picking out a nice-looking person, he set him for the Devil’s stake.

Of course the host won, and the nice-looking soul was passed round to his side of the table.

Of course, the host won, and the attractive person was passed over to his side of the table.

‘Shall we have another game?’ said the host, quite cock-a-hoop.

‘Should we play another game?’ said the host, feeling quite cheerful.

The Devil hesitated for a moment, but finally he yielded. The host picked out a soul that took his fancy, for the Devil’s stake, and they sat down to play again, with the same result.

The Devil hesitated for a moment, but finally he gave in. The host selected a soul that caught his eye, for the Devil's wager, and they sat down to play again, with the same outcome.

So they went on and on till the host had won fifteen thousand souls of the Devil. ‘Come,’ said Death when they had got as far as this, ‘I really can’t wait any longer. I never had to do with anyone who took up so much time as you. Come along!’

So they kept going until the host had won fifteen thousand souls from the Devil. ‘Come on,’ said Death when they reached that point, ‘I really can't wait any longer. I've never dealt with anyone who wasted so much time as you. Let’s go!’

So the host bowed excuses to the Devil for having had all the luck, and went cheerfully the way Mrs. Death led, with all his fifteen thousand souls behind him. Thus they arrived at the gate of Paradise. There wasn’t so much business going on there as at the other place, and they had to ring before anyone appeared to open the door.

So the host apologized to the Devil for his good fortune and cheerfully followed Mrs. Death, with all fifteen thousand souls trailing behind him. They reached the gate of Paradise. It was much quieter there than in the other place, and they had to ring the bell before anyone showed up to open the door.

‘Who’s there?’ said St. Peter.

“Who’s there?” asked St. Peter.

‘He of the four hundred years!’

‘He who has lived for four hundred years!’

‘And what is all that rabble behind?’ asked St. Peter.

‘And what’s all that crowd behind?’ asked St. Peter.

‘Souls that I have won of the Devil for Paradise,’ answered the host.

‘Souls that I have saved from the Devil for Paradise,’ replied the host.

‘Oh, that won’t do at all, here!’ said St. Peter.

‘Oh, that won’t work at all, here!’ said St. Peter.

‘Be kind enough to carry the message up to your Master,’ responded the host.

“Please be so kind as to deliver the message to your boss,” replied the host.

St. Peter went up to Jesus Christ. ‘Here is he to whom you gave four hundred years of life,’ he said; [183]‘and he has brought fifteen thousand other souls, who have no title at all to Paradise, with him.’

St. Peter approached Jesus Christ. "Here is the man to whom you granted four hundred years of life," he said; [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] "and he has brought along fifteen thousand other souls, who have no claim to Paradise at all."

‘Tell him he may come in himself,’ said Jesus Christ, ‘but he has nothing to do to meddle with the others.’

‘Tell him he can come in himself,’ said Jesus Christ, ‘but he has no right to interfere with the others.’

‘Tell Him to be pleased to remember that when He came to my eating-shop I never made any difficulty how many soever He brought with Him, and if He had brought an army I should have said nothing,’ answered the host; and St. Peter took up that message too.

‘Tell Him to remember that when He came to my restaurant, I never complained about how many people he brought with him, and even if he had brought an army, I wouldn’t have said a word,’ replied the host; and St. Peter took that message as well.

‘That is true! that is right!’ answered Jesus Christ. ‘Let them all in! let them all in!’

‘That's true! That's right!’ answered Jesus Christ. ‘Let them all in! Let them all in!’

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

7

PRET’ OLIVO.11

When Jesus Christ was on earth, He lodged one night at a priest’s house, and when He went away in the morning He offered to give His host, in reward for his hospitality, whatever he asked. What Pret’ Olivo (for that was his host’s name) asked for was that he should live a hundred years, and that when Death came to fetch him he should be able to give her what orders he pleased, and that she must obey him.

When Jesus Christ was on earth, He spent the night at a priest’s house, and when He left in the morning, He offered to grant His host anything he wanted as a thank you for his hospitality. What Pret’ Olivo (that was his host's name) asked for was to live for a hundred years and, when Death came to take him, to be able to give her whatever orders he wanted, and for her to obey him.

‘Let it be granted!’ said Jesus Christ.

‘Let it be granted!’ said Jesus Christ.

A hundred years passed away, and then, one morning early, Death came.

A hundred years went by, and then, one early morning, Death arrived.

‘Pret’ Olivo! Pret’ Olivo!’ cried Death, ‘are you ready? I’m come for you at last.’

‘Pret’ Olivo! Pret' Olivo!’ cried Death, ‘are you ready? I’ve come for you at last.’

‘Let me say my mass first,’ said Pret’ Olivo; ‘that’s all.’

‘Let me say my mass first,’ said Pret’ Olivo; ‘that’s all.’

‘Well, I don’t mind that,’ answered Death; ‘only mind it isn’t a long one, because I’ve got so many people to fetch to-day.’

‘Well, I don’t mind that,’ replied Death; ‘just make sure it’s not a long one, because I have so many people to pick up today.’

‘A mass is a mass,’ answered Pret’ Olivo; ‘it will be neither longer nor shorter.’

‘A mass is a mass,’ replied Pret’ Olivo; ‘it won’t be any longer or shorter.’

As he went out, however, he told his servant to heap up a lot of wood on the hearth and set fire to it. Death [184]went to sit down on a bench in the far corner of the chimney, and by-and-by the wood blazed up and she couldn’t get away any more. In vain she called to the servant to come and moderate the fire. ‘Master told me to heap it up, not to moderate it,’ answered the servant; and so there was no help. Death continued calling in desperation, and nobody came. It was impossible with her dry bones to pass the blaze, so there she had to stay.

As he left, he told his servant to pile up a lot of wood on the hearth and light it. Death [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] went to sit on a bench in the far corner of the fireplace, and eventually the wood caught fire, trapping her. She called out to the servant to come and put out the flames, but he replied, “The master told me to stack it up, not to put it out,” and there was no way to help her. Death kept calling in desperation, but no one came. With her fragile form, she couldn’t cross the flames, so she had no choice but to stay there.

‘Oh, dear! oh, dear! what can I do?’ she kept saying; ‘all this time everybody is stopped dying! Pret’ Olivo! Pret’ Olivo! come here.’

‘Oh no! What can I do?’ she kept saying; ‘all this time everyone is just waiting to die! Pret’ Olivo! Pret’ Olivo! Come here.’

At last Pret’ Olivo came in.

Finally, Pret' Olivo arrived.

‘What do you mean by keeping me here like this?’ said Death; ‘I told you I had so much to do.’

‘What do you mean by keeping me here like this?’ said Death; ‘I told you I had a lot to do.’

‘Oh, you want to go, do you?’ said Pret’ Olivo, quietly.

‘Oh, you want to leave, do you?’ said Pret’ Olivo, quietly.

‘Of course I do. Tell some one to clear away those burning logs, and let me out.’

‘Of course I do. Have someone move those burning logs, and let me out.’

‘Will you promise me to leave me alone for another hundred years if I do?’

‘Will you promise me to leave me alone for another hundred years if I do?’

‘Yes, yes; anything you like. I shall be very glad to keep away from this place for a hundred years.’

‘Yes, sure; whatever you want. I'll be really happy to stay away from this place for a hundred years.’

Then he let her go, and she set off running with those long thin legs of hers.

Then he let her go, and she took off running with her long, slender legs.

The second hundred years came to an end.

The second hundred years came to an end.

‘Are you ready, Pret’ Olivo?’ said Death one morning, putting her head in at the door.

‘Are you ready, Pret’ Olivo?’ said Death one morning, sticking her head in through the door.

‘Pretty nearly,’ answered Pret’ Olivo. ‘Meantime, just take that basket, and gather me a couple of figs to eat before I go.’

‘Pretty much,’ answered Pret’ Olivo. 'In the meantime, just grab that basket and pick me a couple of figs to eat before I leave.'

As she went away he said, ‘Stick to the tree’ (but not so that she could hear it); for you remember he had power given him to make her do what he liked. She had therefore to stick to the tree.

As she walked away, he quietly said, 'Stay by the tree' (but he made sure she couldn't hear him); after all, he had the ability to control her actions. So, she had no choice but to stay by the tree.

‘Well, Lady Death, are you never going to bring those figs?’ cried Pret’ Olivo after a time. [185]

‘Well, Lady Death, are you ever going to bring those figs?’ cried Pret’ Olivo after a while. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘How can I bring them, when you know I can’t get down from this tree? Instead of making game of me, come and take me down.’

‘How can I bring them when you know I can’t get down from this tree? Instead of making fun of me, just come and help me down.’

‘Will you leave me alone another hundred years if I do?’

‘Will you leave me alone for another hundred years if I do?’

‘Yes, yes; anything you like. Only make haste and let me go.’

‘Sure, sure; whatever you want. Just hurry up and let me leave.’

The third hundred years came to an end, and Death appeared again. ‘Are you ready this time, Pret’ Olivo?’ she cried out as she approached.

The third hundred years came to an end, and Death appeared again. ‘Are you ready this time, Pret Olivo?’ she shouted as she approached.

‘Yes, this time I’ll come with you,’ answered Pret’ Olivo. Then he vested himself in the Church vestments, and put a cope on, and took a pack of cards in his hand, and said to Death, ‘Now take me to the gate of Hell, for I want to play a game of cards with the Devil.’

‘Yes, this time I’ll go with you,’ answered Pret’ Olivo. Then he put on the church robes, draped a cope over his shoulders, and grabbed a deck of cards. He said to Death, ‘Now take me to the gate of Hell, because I want to play a game of cards with the Devil.’

‘Nonsense!’ answered Death. ‘I’m not going to waste my time like that. I’ve got orders to take you to Paradise, and to Paradise you must go.’

‘Nonsense!’ replied Death. ‘I’m not going to waste my time like that. I have orders to take you to Paradise, and to Paradise you must go.’

‘You know you’ve got orders to obey whatever I tell you,’ answered Pret’ Olivo; and Death knew that was true, so she lost no more time in disputing, but took him all the way round by the gate of Hell.

‘You know you have to follow whatever I say,’ replied Pret’ Olivo; and Death knew that was true, so she wasted no more time arguing and took him all the way around through the gate of Hell.

At the gate of Hell they knocked.

At the gate of Hell, they knocked.

‘Who’s there?’ said the Devil.

"Who's there?" asked the Devil.

‘Pret’ Olivo,’ replied Death.

‘Pret’ Olivo,’ Death replied.

‘Out with you, ugly priest!’ said the Devil. ‘I’m surprised at you, Death, making game of me like that; you know that’s not the sort of ware for my market.’12

‘Get lost, ugly priest!’ said the Devil. ‘I can’t believe you, Death, mocking me like that; you know that’s not the kind of goods for my market.’12

‘Silence, and open the door, ugly Pluto!13 I’m not come to stay. I only want to have a game of cards with you. Here’s my soul for stake on my side, against the last comer on your side,’ interposed Pret’ Olivo.

‘Be quiet and open the door, ugly Pluto! 13 I’m not here to stay. I just want to play a game of cards with you. Here’s my soul at stake on my side, against the last person to come on your side,’ chimed in Pret’ Olivo.

Pret’ Olivo won the game, and hung the soul on to his cope.

Pret’ Olivo won the game and hung the soul onto his cloak.

‘We must have another game,’ said the Devil.

‘We need to have another game,’ said the Devil.

‘With all my heart!’ replied Pret’ Olivo; and he won [186]another soul. Another and another he won, and his cope was covered all over with the souls clinging to it.

‘With all my heart!’ replied Pret’ Olivo; and he won [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]another soul. He kept winning one after another, and his cloak was covered with souls clinging to it.

Meantime, Death thought it was going on rather too long, so she looked through the keyhole, and, finding they were just beginning another game, she cried out loudly;

Meantime, Death thought it was going on way too long, so she peeked through the keyhole, and seeing they were just starting another game, she yelled out.

‘It’s no use playing any more, for I’m not going to be bothered to carry all those souls all the way up to Heaven—a likely matter, indeed!’

‘There’s no point in playing anymore, because I’m not going to bother carrying all those souls all the way up to Heaven—a real hassle, for sure!’

But Pret’ Olivo went on playing without taking any notice of her; and he hung them on to his beretta, till at last you could hardly see him at all for the number of souls he had clinging to him. There was no place for any more, so at last he stopped playing.

But Pret’ Olivo kept playing without paying any attention to her; he hung them onto his beretta until you could barely see him for all the souls clinging to him. There was no room for any more, so he eventually stopped playing.

‘I’m not going to take all those other souls,’ said Death when he came out; ‘I’ve only got orders to take you.’

‘I’m not here to collect all those other souls,’ Death said as he stepped out; ‘I’m only supposed to take you.’

‘Then take me,’ answered Pret’ Olivo.

‘Then take me,’ answered Pret’ Olivo.

Death saw that the souls were all hung on so that she could not take him without taking all the rest; so away she went with the lot of them, without disputing any more.

Death saw that all the souls were tied up in such a way that she couldn't take him without also taking the others; so she left with all of them, without arguing anymore.

At last they arrived at the Gate of Paradise. St. Peter opened the door when they knocked; but when he saw who was there he shut the door again.

At last they reached the Gate of Paradise. St. Peter opened the door when they knocked; but when he saw who was there, he shut the door again.

‘Make haste!’ said Death; ‘I’ve no time to waste.’

‘Hurry up!’ said Death; ‘I don’t have time to waste.’

‘Why did you waste your time in bringing up souls that were not properly consigned to you?’ answered St. Peter.

‘Why did you waste your time bringing up souls that weren’t properly assigned to you?’ answered St. Peter.

‘It wasn’t I brought them, it was Pret’ Olivo. And your Master charged me I was to do whatever he told me.’

‘It wasn’t me who brought them, it was Pret’ Olivo. And your Master told me I had to do whatever he said.’

‘My Master! Oh, then, I’m out of it,’ said St. Peter. ‘Only wait a minute, while I just go and ask Him whether it is so.’ St. Peter ran to ask; and receiving an affirmative answer, came back and opened the gate, and they all got in. [187]

‘My Master! Oh, then I’m done for,’ said St. Peter. ‘Just give me a moment while I go and check with Him if that's true.’ St. Peter rushed to ask, and after getting a yes, he returned, opened the gate, and they all entered. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

8

DOMINE QUO VADIS.

‘You know, of course, about St. Peter, when they put him in the prisons here; he found a way of escaping through the “catacomboli,” and just as he had got out into the open road again he met Jesus Christ coming towards him carrying His cross. And St. Peter asked Him what he was doing going into the “catacomboli.” But Jesus Christ answered, “I am not going into the ‘catacomboli’ to stay; I am going back by the way you came to be crucified over again, since you refuse to die for the flock.” Then St. Peter turned and went all the way back, and was crucified with his head downwards, for he said he was not worthy to die in the same way as his Master.’

‘You know, of course, about St. Peter when he was imprisoned here; he found a way to escape through the “catacomboli,” and just as he got back onto the open road, he met Jesus Christ coming towards him carrying His cross. St. Peter asked Him what He was doing going into the “catacomboli.” But Jesus Christ replied, “I’m not going into the ‘catacomboli’ to stay; I’m going back the same way you came to be crucified again since you refuse to die for the flock.” Then St. Peter turned around and went all the way back, and was crucified upside down because he said he wasn’t worthy to die in the same way as his Master.’

[Counterparts of these stories abound in the collections of all countries; in the Norse, and Gaelic, and Russian, more of the pagan element seems to stick to them. In Grimm’s are some with both much and little of it. From Tirol I have given two, which are literally free from it, in ‘Household Stories from the Land of Hofer;’ and I have one or two picked up for me by a friend in Brittany, of which the same may be said. On the other hand, we meet them again in another form in that large group of strange compounds, of which ‘Il Rè Moro,’ p. 97, &c., are the Roman representatives, and ‘Marienkind,’ pp. 7–12, ‘Grimm Kinder und Hausmährchen,’ ed. 1870, the link between them. In the minds of the Roman narrators, however, I am quite clear no such connexion exists. See also p. 207 infra.

[There are many similar stories in the collections from different countries; in Norse, Gaelic, and Russian tales, the pagan elements seem to be more prominent. In Grimm’s collection, some stories have a lot of this influence, while others have very little. From Tirol, I’ve included two that are completely free from it in ‘Household Stories from the Land of Hofer;’ and I have one or two that a friend collected for me in Brittany, which are also free from that influence. On the other hand, we see these stories again in another form in a large group of strange combinations, such as ‘Il Rè Moro,’ p. 97, &c., which represent the Roman side, and ‘Marienkind,’ pp. 7–12, ‘Grimm Kinder und Hausmährchen,’ ed. 1870, serving as the link between them. However, I’m quite certain that the Roman storytellers don’t see any connection. See also p. 207 infra. ]

One of the quaintest legends of this class is given in Scheible’s ‘Schaltjahr.’ It is meant for a charm to drive away wolves.]

One of the most charming legends of this type is found in Scheible’s ‘Leap Year.’ It is intended as a charm to ward off wolves.

‘Lord Jesus Christ and St. Peter went in the morning out.

‘Lord Jesus Christ and St. Peter went out in the morning.

As our Lady went on before she said (turning about),

As our Lady continued ahead, she said (turning around),

“Ah, dear Lord! whither must we go in and out?

“Ah, dear Lord! where must we go in and out?

We must over hill and dale (roundabout).

We must go over hills and valleys (taking the long way around).

May God guard the while my flock (devout).

May God watch over my devoted flock.

Let not St. Peter go his keys without;

Let St. Peter not leave without his keys;

But take them and lock up the wild dogs’14 snout,

But take them and lock up the wild dogs’14 snout,

That they no bone of them all may flout.”’

That none of them can mock.

[189]

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 The Holy Babe. ↑

1 The Holy Baby. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Date mi un po’ d’allogio;’ lit., Give me a small quantity of lodging—a humble mode of expression. ↑

2 ‘Give me a place to stay for a while;’ lit., Just a little bit of lodging—a simple way to say it. ↑

3 ‘Chi è?’ (‘Who’s there’); but the humour of the expression here lies in its being the invariable Roman custom to sing out ‘Chi è?’ and wait till ‘Amici!’ is answered, before any door is opened. ↑

3 ‘Who's there?’ but the humor in this expression comes from the fact that it's a long-standing Roman tradition to call out ‘Who's there?’ and wait for a reply of ‘Friends!’ before opening any door. ↑

4 Comp. with Legend of the Marmolata in ‘Household Stories from the land of Hofer.’ ↑

4 Compare with the Legend of the Marmolata in ‘Household Stories from the Land of Hofer.’ ↑

5 ‘Un pagnotto di polenta’ was the expression used, meaning a great coarse loaf of Indian corn. The Roman poor have much the same contempt for inferior bread that we meet with in the same class at home, none eat ‘seconds’ who can possibly avoid it; but the pagnotto di polenta is only eaten by the poorest peasants. ↑

5 The term ‘un pagnotto di polenta’ referred to a large, coarse loaf made from cornmeal. Like the poor in our own society, the impoverished Romans look down upon lower-quality bread and do their best to avoid what they call ‘seconds’; however, the pagnotto di polenta is something only the poorest peasants would eat. ↑

6 ‘Strutto,’ lard, enters into the composition of almost every Roman popular dish. ↑

6 ‘Strutto,’ or lard, is used in nearly every traditional Roman dish. ↑

7 ‘Che bolliva,’ constantly applied in Roman parlance to solids as well as liquids. ↑

7 ‘What’s boiling,’ was used in everyday conversation in Rome for both solids and liquids. ↑

8 The narrator was an admirable reciter, and as she uttered this ‘Vi sia concessa,’ in a solemn and majestic manner, she raised her hand and made the sign of the cross with a rapid and facile gesture, just as she might have seen the Pope do as he drove through Rome. ↑

8 The narrator was an impressive storyteller, and as she said ‘May it be granted to you’ in a serious and grand way, she raised her hand and quickly crossed herself, just like she might have seen the Pope do while driving through Rome. ↑

9 ‘Trattoria,’ can only be translated by ‘tavern,’ but unfortunately the English word represents quite a different idea from the Roman. ‘Tavern’ suggests noise and riot, but a ‘trattoria’ is a place where a poor Roman will take his family to dine quietly with him on a festa as a treat. ↑

9 ‘Trattoria’ can only be translated as ‘tavern,’ but unfortunately, the English word conveys a different concept than it does in Roman culture. ‘Tavern’ implies noise and chaos, while a ‘trattoria’ is a place where an everyday Roman might take his family for a quiet meal together during a celebration as a treat. ↑

10 ‘Death,’ being feminine in Italian, has to be personified as a woman. The same occurs in a Spanish counterpart of this story which I have given under the title of ‘Starving John the Doctor’ in ‘Patrañas.’ The Spanish counterpart of the rest of the story will be found in ‘Where one can dine two can dine’ (‘Un Convidado invida a ciento’) in the same series. ↑

10 ‘Death,’ which is feminine in Italian, needs to be portrayed as a woman. The same thing happens in the Spanish version of this story, which I’ve titled ‘Starving John the Doctor’ in ‘Patrañas.’ You can find the Spanish version of the rest of the story in ‘Where one can dine two can dine’ (‘Un Convidado invita a cien’) in the same series. ↑

11 ‘Olive the priest.’ ‘When we were children,’ said the narrator, ‘my father used to tell us such a lot of stories of an evening, but of them all the two we used to ask for most, again and again, and the only two I remember, were “Mi butto,” and “Pret’ Olivo.” Do you know “Mi butto”? We used to shudder at it, and yet we used to ask for it.’ I incautiously admitted I did know it, instead of acquiring a fresh version. ‘Then here is “Pret’ Olivo.” I don’t suppose I was more than seven then, and now I am thirty-five, and I have never heard it since, but I’ll make the best I can of it. Of course it is not a true story; we knew that it couldn’t be true, as anyone can see; but it used to interest us children.’ ↑

11 "Olive the priest." "When we were kids," the narrator said, "my dad used to tell us a lot of stories in the evenings, but of all of them, the two we asked for the most, over and over again, and the only two I remember, were 'Mi butto' and 'Pret’ Olivo.' Do you know 'Mi butto'? We used to shiver at it, but still, we wanted to hear it." I foolishly admitted I knew it instead of asking for a new version. "Then here is 'Pret’ Olivo.' I don't suppose I was more than seven back then, and now I'm thirty-five, and I haven't heard it since, but I'll do my best with it. Of course, it's not a true story; we knew it couldn't be true, as anyone can see; but it used to fascinate us kids." ↑

12 ‘Vaene brutto prete! Questa non è roba per me.’ ↑

12 'You're a stupid priest! This isn't for me.' ↑

13 ‘Brutto Plutone!’ The traditional application of the name will not have escaped the reader. ↑

13 ‘Brutto Plutone!’ The usual meaning of the name will not have gone unnoticed by the reader. ↑

14 ‘Holzhund,’ I suppose, is used for wild dog. ↑

14 ‘Holzhund’ probably refers to a wild dog. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

PIETRO BAILLIARDO.1

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1

What! Never heard of Pietro Bailliardo! Surely you must, if you ever heard anything at all. Why, everybody knows about Pietro Bailliardo! Why, he was here and there and everywhere in Rome; and turned everybody’s head, and they have his books now, that they took away from him, locked up in the Holy Office.2

What! You've never heard of Pietro Bailliardo! You must have if you’ve heard anything at all. Everyone knows about Pietro Bailliardo! He was all over the place in Rome, turning heads everywhere, and they have his books now, which they took from him and locked up in the Holy Office.2

Pietro Bailliardo was a scholar boy, and went to school like other boys. One day he found at a bookstall a book of divination;3 with this he was able to do whatever he would, and wherever he was, there the Devil was in command.

Pietro Bailliardo was a studious boy and attended school like all the other boys. One day, he discovered a book on divination at a bookstall; 3 with this, he could do whatever he wanted, and wherever he went, the Devil was in charge.

He fell in love with a girl, and she would have nothing to do with him; and one day afterwards they found her on Mont Cavallo with a great fire burning round her, and everyone who passed had to stir the fire whether he would or not.

He fell in love with a girl, but she wanted nothing to do with him. Then one day they found her on Mont Cavallo with a huge fire blazing around her, and everyone who walked by had to stir the fire whether they wanted to or not.

Whatever he wanted he ordered to come and it came to him, and nobody could resist him.

Whatever he wanted, he commanded it to come, and it did. No one could resist him.

As to putting him in prison it was no manner of use. One day when they had put him in prison he took a piece of charcoal and drew a boat on the white prison wall, then he jumped into it, and said to all the other prisoners, ‘Get in too,’ and they got in, and he rowed away, and next morning they were all loose about Rome. But there was an old man asleep in a corner of the prison, and the guards came to him and said, ‘Where are all the prisoners gone?’ And he told them about Pietro Bailliardo drawing the boat on the prison wall with the charcoal and their all getting away in it. ‘And why didn’t you go too?’ asked the guards. ‘Because I was asleep so comfortably I did not want to move,’ said he. (‘But then, how did he see it all unless Pietro Bailliardo had him put under [190]a spell on purpose that he might tell the authorities how he had defied them?’ added the narrator.)

Putting him in prison was pointless. One day, after they locked him up, he took a piece of charcoal and drew a boat on the blank prison wall. Then he jumped into it and told the other prisoners, “Get in too,” and they all climbed in. He rowed away, and by the next morning, they were all free around Rome. But there was an old man sleeping in a corner of the prison, and the guards came to him and asked, “Where did all the prisoners go?” He explained about Pietro Bailliardo drawing the boat on the wall with charcoal and everyone escaping in it. “And why didn’t you go too?” the guards asked. “Because I was sleeping so comfortably that I didn’t want to move,” he replied. (‘But then, how could he have seen all this unless Pietro Bailliardo had him under [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] a spell on purpose so he could tell the authorities how he had outsmarted them?’ the narrator added.)

Another time again they shut him up in prison, and the next morning when they came to look for him they found nothing but an ass’s head in his place, which he had left there just to show his contempt for them.

Another time, they locked him up in prison, and the next morning when they came to check on him, they found nothing but an ass’s head in his place, which he had left there just to show how much he despised them.

One day a zealous friar met him and warned him to repent. ‘What have I to repent of?’ said he. ‘I can hear mass better than you, for I can hear mass in three places at once.’ Then he went away and made the Devil take him to Constantinople and Paris to hear mass at each while all at one and the same time he was hearing one at Rome too! Then he came and told the friar what a grand thing he had done. But the friar told him it was worse than not hearing mass at all to attempt to use diabolical arts in that way.

One day, an enthusiastic friar met him and urged him to repent. “What do I need to repent for?” he replied. “I can attend mass better than you because I can be in three places at once.” Then he left and had the Devil take him to Constantinople and Paris to attend mass there while, at the same time, he was also attending one in Rome! When he returned, he boasted to the friar about the incredible thing he had done. But the friar told him that it was worse than skipping mass entirely to try to use devilish powers like that.

After that one day he was going up past the church of SS. John and Paul4 when the Devil met him.

After that one day, he was walking past the church of SS. John and Paul4 when the Devil met him.

‘Now,’ said the Devil, ‘you have had your swing long enough; I have come to fetch you!’

‘Now,’ said the Devil, ‘you’ve had your fun long enough; I’m here to take you away!’

When Pietro Bailliardo, who had set all the world at defiance all his life, saw the Devil and heard him say he had come to fetch him, he was seized with such terror that he began to repent, and ran inside the church. The Devil durst not follow him thither, but waited outside thinking he would soon be turned out.

When Pietro Bailliardo, who had defied the world his entire life, saw the Devil and heard him say he had come to take him away, he was filled with such fear that he started to feel remorse and ran into the church. The Devil dared not follow him inside but waited outside, thinking he would be kicked out soon.

But Pietro Bailliardo took up a great stone and went and kneeled down before the crucifix and smote his bare breast with the big stone, saying the while, ‘Behold! merciful Lord, I beat my breast with this stone till Thou bow Thy head in token that Thou forgive me.’

But Pietro Bailliardo picked up a large stone, knelt down in front of the crucifix, and struck his bare chest with the stone, saying, “Look! Merciful Lord, I beat my chest with this stone until You lower Your head as a sign that You forgive me.”

And he went on beating his breast till the blood ran down, and at last our Lord had compassion on him and bowed His head from the cross to him, and he died there. So the Devil did not get him. [191]

And he kept hitting his chest until blood flowed down, and finally our Lord felt compassion for him and lowered His head from the cross to him, and he died there. So the Devil didn't claim him. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

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2

‘You have told me so many stories, why have you never told me anything about Pietro Bailliardo—don’t you know about him?’

‘You've shared so many stories with me; why have you never mentioned Pietro Bailliardo—don’t you know anything about him?’

‘Of course I know about him. Who in Rome doesn’t know about him? but I can’t remember it all. I know he had the book of divination, and could make the Devil do whatever he chose by its means. And then one day, I don’t remember by what circumstance, he was led to do penance; but he would do it in his own way, not in the right way, and he made a vow to the Madonna that he would pay a visit to some shrine in Rome and to S. Giacomo di Galizia,5 and to the Santa Casa di Loreto all in the same night. As devils can fly through the air at a wonderful pace he called upon a devil by his divining book and told him what he wanted; then he got on the back of the devil and rode away through the air and actually visited all three in one night.

‘Of course I know about him. Who in Rome doesn’t know about him? But I can’t remember everything. I know he had a book of divination and could make the Devil do whatever he wanted with it. Then one day, I don’t remember how it happened, he was led to do penance; but he would do it his own way, not the right way, and he made a promise to the Madonna that he would visit some shrine in Rome and S. Giacomo di Galizia,5 and the Santa Casa di Loreto all in the same night. Since devils can fly through the air at an incredible speed, he called upon one with his divining book and told him what he wanted; then he got on the devil's back and rode away through the air, visiting all three in one night.

‘But that sort of penance was no penance at all. After that he did penance in right earnest at some church, I forget which.’

‘But that kind of penance wasn't penance at all. After that, he did penance seriously at some church, I can't remember which.’

‘Was it SS. John and Paul?’ I asked.

‘Was it Saints John and Paul?’ I asked.

‘Yes, to be sure; SS. John and Paul. And you knew it all the time, and yet have been asking me!’

‘Yes, of course; SS. John and Paul. And you knew it the whole time, yet you still asked me!’

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3

‘Do you want to know about Pietro Bailliardo too?’ said the old man who had given me No. 2 of San Giovanni Bocca d’oro. ‘Oh, yes; I did know a deal about him. This is what I can remember.

‘Do you want to know about Pietro Bailliardo too?’ said the old man who had given me No. 2 of San Giovanni Bocca d’oro. ‘Oh, yes; I knew quite a bit about him. This is what I can remember.

‘Pietro Bailliardo had a bond6 with the Devil, by which he was as rich as he could be, and had whatever he wanted; but the day came when the compact came to an end, and Pietro Bailliardo quailed as that day approached, for he knew that after that time the Devil could take him and he could not resist. [192]

‘Pietro Bailliardo had a deal with the Devil, which made him as wealthy as he could ever want and gave him everything he desired; but the day came when the agreement was set to expire, and Pietro Bailliardo panicked as that day drew near, for he knew that afterwards the Devil could claim him, and he wouldn't be able to fight it. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Before noon on that day, therefore, he set out to go to St. Paul’s.’

‘Before noon on that day, he set out to go to St. Paul’s.’

‘To SS. John and Paul?’ asked I, full of the former versions.

‘To SS. John and Paul?’ I asked, full of the earlier versions.

‘No, no! to the great St. Paul’s outside the walls, where the monks of St. Benedict are; and he waited there all day, for before the time was out the Devil couldn’t take him. At last evening came on, and the chierico7 wanted to shut the church up; so he told Pietro Bailliardo he must go, and showed him to the door. But when he came to the door, he found the Devil there waiting for him dressed like a paino.8 When he saw that, no power of the chierico could make him go; so the chierico was obliged to call the Father Abbot.

‘No, no! to the great St. Paul’s outside the walls, where the monks of St. Benedict are; and he waited there all day, because before the time was up, the Devil couldn’t take him. Finally, evening came, and the chierico7 wanted to close the church; so he told Pietro Bailliardo he had to leave and showed him to the door. But when he got there, he found the Devil waiting for him, dressed like a paino.8 When he saw that, no amount of persuasion from the chierico could make him leave; so the chierico had to call the Father Abbot.

‘To the Father Abbot Pietro Bailliardo told his whole story, and the Father Abbot said, “If that is so, come with me to the Inquisition, and tell your story there and receive absolution.” Then he sent for a carriage, and said to the driver, “Be of good heart, for I have many relics of saints with me, and whatever strange thing you may see or hear by the way, have no fear, it shall not harm you.”

‘To the Father Abbot, Pietro Bailliardo told his whole story, and the Father Abbot said, “If that’s the case, come with me to the Inquisition, and tell your story there to receive absolution.” Then he called for a carriage and said to the driver, “Stay calm, because I have many relics of saints with me, and whatever odd things you might see or hear along the way, don’t worry, they won’t harm you.”’

‘The Devil saw all this, and was in a great fury, for he has no power to alter future events, and so he couldn’t help Pietro Bailliardo going into the church for sanctuary before the time was up. He got a number of devils together, therefore, and made unearthly and terrible noises all the way. But the driver had confidence in the word of the Abbot, and drove on without heeding. Only when they got to the bridge of St. Angelo the noise was so tremendous he got quite bewildered; moreover the bridge heaved and rocked as though it were going to break in twain.

‘The Devil saw all this and was extremely angry, because he has no power to change future events, so he couldn’t stop Pietro Bailliardo from entering the church for safety before the time ran out. He gathered a bunch of devils together and made otherworldly, terrifying noises all the way. But the driver trusted the Abbot's word and kept going without paying attention. Only when they reached the bridge of St. Angelo was the noise so overwhelming that he felt quite confused; in addition, the bridge swayed and shook as if it were going to snap in half.

‘“Fear nothing, fear nothing! Nothing will harm you,” said the Father Abbot; and the driver, having confidence in his words, drove on without heeding, and they arrived safely at the Palace of the Inquisition. [193]

‘“Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid! Nothing will hurt you,” said the Father Abbot; and the driver, trusting his words, continued on without worry, and they arrived safely at the Palace of the Inquisition. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘The Father Abbot now delivered Pietro Bailliardo over to the Penitentiary, to whom, moreover, he made confession of his terrible crimes, and begged to remain to perform his penance and obtain reconciliation with God.

‘The Father Abbot now handed Pietro Bailliardo over to the Penitentiary, to whom he also confessed his terrible crimes and asked to stay to do his penance and find reconciliation with God.

‘But as Pietro Bailliardo had been used to follow his own strange ways all his life, he must needs now perform his penance too in his own strange way. Therefore he made a vow that he would perform such a penance as man never performed before; and this penance was to visit, all in one night, the SS. Crocifisso in the Chapel of the Holy Office, S. Giacomo di Galizia, and the sanctuary of Cirollo. All in one night!’

‘But since Pietro Bailliardo had always followed his own unique path, he knew he had to do his penance in his own peculiar way as well. So he made a vow to undertake a penance unlike any other; and this penance would be to visit, all in one night, the SS. Crocifisso in the Chapel of the Holy Office, S. Giacomo di Galizia, and the sanctuary of Cirollo. All in one night!’

‘Stop! S. Giacomo di Galizia I know; we call it S. James of Compostella; but the sanctuary of Cirollo! I never heard of that; where is it?’

‘Stop! S. Giacomo di Galizia I know; we call it S. James of Compostella; but the sanctuary of Cirollo! I’ve never heard of that; where is it?’

‘Oh, Cirollo is all the same as if you said Loreto; the Madonna di Loreto; it is all one.’

‘Oh, Cirollo is just like saying Loreto; the Madonna di Loreto; it’s all the same.’

I appealed to one sitting there who, I knew, had been brought up at Loreto.

I called out to someone sitting there who I knew had grown up at Loreto.

‘Yes, yes,’ she said. ‘That is all right; Cirollo is just a walk from Loreto. Noi altri when living at Loreto often go there, but those who come from far, most often don’t; so we have a saying, “Who goes to Loreto and not to Cirollo, he sees the mother, but not the son.”9 ‘It is a saying, and nothing more.’

‘Yes, yes,’ she said. ‘That’s fine; Cirollo is just a short walk from Loreto. Noi altri when we lived in Loreto often went there, but those who come from afar usually don’t; so we have a saying, “Whoever goes to Loreto but not to Cirollo sees the mother but not the son.”9 ‘It’s just a saying, nothing more.’

‘Basta!’ interposed the old man, who, like other old people, was apt to forget the thread of his story if interrupted. ‘Basta! it doesn’t matter: they were anyhow three places very far apart.10 So Pietro Bailliardo, who couldn’t get out of his habit of commanding the devils, called up a number of them, and said, “Which of all you fiends can go the fastest?” and the devils, accustomed to obey him, answered the one before the other, some one way some another, each anxious to content him: “I, like lightning,” said one; “I, like the wind,” said another; but “I—I can go as fast as thought,”11 said another. “Ho! Here! [194]You fiend. You, who can travel as fast as thought. You come here, and take me to-night to St. James of Compostella, and to the sanctuary of Cirollo, and bring me back here to the Chapel of the Holy Office before morning breaks.”

Basta! the old man interrupted, who, like many elderly people, tended to lose track of his story if interrupted. Basta! It doesn’t matter: they were all three places very far apart.10 So Pietro Bailliardo, who couldn’t break the habit of commanding the devils, summoned a bunch of them and said, “Which of you can get there the fastest?” The devils, used to obeying him, replied one after another, some this way, some that, each eager to please him: “I can move like lightning,” said one; “I can fly like the wind,” said another; but “I—I can go as fast as thought,”11 said yet another. “Hey! You! [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]You devil. You, who can travel as fast as thought. Come here, and take me tonight to St. James of Compostella, and to the sanctuary of Cirollo, and bring me back here to the Chapel of the Holy Office before dawn.”

‘He spoke imperiously, and sprang on to the devil’s back, and all was done so quickly the devil had no time for thought or hesitation.

‘He spoke authoritatively and jumped onto the devil's back, and everything happened so fast that the devil had no time to think or hesitate.

‘Away flew the devil, and Pietro Bailliardo on his back, all the way to St. James of Compostella, and, whr-r-r-r all the way to the sanctuary of Cirollo, fast, fast as thought. Then suddenly the devil stopped midway. An idea had struck him. “What had a devil to do with going about visiting shrines in this way; no harm had been done to the sacred place; not a stone had been injured;12 why then had they gone to S. Giacomo; why were they going to Cirollo?”

‘Away flew the devil, with Pietro Bailliardo on his back, all the way to St. James of Compostella, and, whr-r-r-r all the way to the sanctuary of Cirollo, as fast as thought. Then suddenly the devil stopped midway. An idea had hit him. “What does a devil have to do with visiting shrines like this; no harm had been done to the holy place; not a stone had been damaged;12 so why had they gone to S. Giacomo; why were they heading to Cirollo?”

‘“Tell me, Ser Bailliardo,” said he, “on whose account am I sweating like this? is it for your private account, or for my master’s; because I only obey you so long as you command in his name, and how can it serve him to be doing pilgrim’s work?”

‘“Tell me, Ser Bailliardo,” he said, “why am I sweating like this? Is it for your personal reasons, or for my master’s? Because I only follow your orders as long as you command in his name, and how does this help him by doing a pilgrim's work?”’

‘“Go on, ugly monster! don’t prate,”13 answered Pietro Bailliardo, and gave him at the same time a kick in each flank; and such was his empire over him that the devil durst say no more, and completed the strange pilgrimage even as he had commanded.14

‘“Go on, ugly monster! Don’t talk nonsense,”13 replied Pietro Bailliardo, kicking him on both sides at the same time; his control over the devil was so complete that the devil dared say nothing more and continued the bizarre journey just as he had ordered.14

‘Thus even in his penitence Pietro Bailliardo had the devils subject to him. But after that he did penance in right good earnest, only he chose a strange way of his own again.

‘So even in his remorse, Pietro Bailliardo had control over the devils. But after that, he genuinely did penance, though he once again chose a rather unusual path for himself.

‘He knelt before the Crucifix in the Chapel of the Inquisition, and he took a great stone and beat his breast with it and said, “Lord, behold my repentance; I smite my breast thus till Thou forgive me.” And when the blood flowed down the Lord had compassion on him and [195]bowed His head upon the cross and said, “I have forgiven thee!”

‘He knelt before the Crucifix in the Chapel of the Inquisition, took a large stone, and struck his breast with it, saying, “Lord, see my repentance; I beat my breast like this until You forgive me.” And when the blood flowed down, the Lord had compassion on him and [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]bowed His head upon the cross and said, “I have forgiven you!”

‘After that he died in peace.’ [196]

‘After that, he passed away peacefully.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 Unquestionably a very exaggerated tradition of the aberrations and final submission to the Church of Abelard (Pietro Abelardo in Italian), some of whose writings were publicly burnt in Rome by the Inquisition in 1140. ↑

1 Clearly, this is a highly exaggerated story about the mistakes and ultimate surrender to the Church of Abelard (Pietro Abelardo in Italian), some of whose works were publicly burned in Rome by the Inquisition in 1140. ↑

2 The Office of the Inquisition behind the Colonnade of St. Peter’s. ↑

2 The Office of the Inquisition behind the Colonnade of St. Peter’s. ↑

3 ‘Libro di comando.’ A book of divination. ↑

3 ‘Guide to Command.’ A book of divination. ↑

4 St. John and Paul. The Church of the Passionists on the Cœlian. ↑

4 St. John and Paul. The Passionist Church on the Cœlian. ↑

5 I.e. St. Iago di Compostella. ↑

5 Meaning Santiago de Compostela. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

6 ‘Scrittura,’ a written compact. ↑

6 ‘Scrittura,’ a written agreement. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

7 ‘Chierico’ of course means a cleric, but in common parlance it is reserved for the boy who, though lay, wears a clerical dress for the time he is serving mass, or attending to the church generally. In the present instance it would probably be a youth in minor orders. ↑

7 ‘Chierico’ obviously refers to a cleric, but in everyday language, it’s used for a boy who, although not ordained, wears clerical clothing while serving mass or helping out at the church. In this case, it would likely be a young man in minor orders. ↑

8 ‘Paino’ and ‘paina’ mean one, who, according to his or her condition, ought to be dressed in the national style, but who does affect to dress like a gentleman or lady. ↑

8 ‘Paino’ and ‘paina’ refer to someone who, depending on their situation, should be wearing traditional clothing, but instead tries to dress like a gentleman or lady. ↑

9

9

‘Chi va a Loreto

"Going to Loreto"

E non va a Cirollo,

And he doesn't go to Cirollo,

Vede la Madre

See the Mother

E non vede il figliuolo.’

And she doesn't see the son.

 ↑

↑

10 I took another opportunity of asking the one who was familiar with Loreto, about Cirollo, and she explained its introduction into the story to mean that he was not to pay a hasty visit, but a thorough one, even though it was done so rapidly. ‘Cirollo,’ she said, ‘is a poor village with few houses, but the church is fine, and the Crucifix is reckoned miracolosissimo.’ In Murray’s map it is marked as Sirollo, close by the sea, without even a pathway from Loreto, about five miles to the north; and he does not mention the place at all in his text.

10 I took another chance to ask someone who knew about Loreto regarding Cirollo, and she explained that its mention in the story indicated that he wasn’t there for a quick visit, but a thorough one, even if it happened quickly. “Cirollo,” she said, “is a small village with only a few houses, but the church is impressive, and the Crucifix is considered miracolosissimo.” On Murray’s map, it’s shown as Sirollo, near the sea, with no path leading from Loreto, about five miles to the north; and he doesn’t mention the place at all in his text.

Subsequently I was talking with another who called herself a Marchegiana, i.e. from the March of Ancona, in which Loreto is situated, and boasted of having been born at Sinigallia, the birthplace of Pio Nono. ‘Have you ever been to Loreto?’ I asked by way of beginning inquiry about Cirollo.

Subsequently, I was talking with someone who called herself a Marchegiana, meaning she was from the March of Ancona, where Loreto is located, and she bragged about being born in Sinigallia, the birthplace of Pio Nono. “Have you ever been to Loreto?” I asked to start asking about Cirollo.

‘Yes; six times I have made the pilgrimage from Sinigallia, and always on foot.’ she replied with something of enthusiasm. ‘And you who have travelled so far, you have been there too, of course?’

‘Yes; I’ve made the pilgrimage from Sinigallia six times, and always on foot,’ she replied with some enthusiasm. ‘And you, who have traveled so far, you’ve been there too, right?’

‘Not yet,’ I replied; ‘but I mean to go one day;’ and just as I was coming to my question about Cirollo, she added of her own accord:

‘Not yet,’ I replied; ‘but I plan to go one day;’ and just as I was about to ask my question about Cirollo, she added on her own:

‘Mind you do, and mind when you go you go to Sirollo too (she pronounced it Sirollo like the spelling in the map). ‘Everyone who goes to Loreto ought to go to Sirollo. There is a Crucifix there which is miracolosissimo.’ ↑

‘Make sure you do, and remember when you go, you should go to Sirollo too (she pronounced it Sirollo like it’s spelled on the map). ‘Everyone who visits Loreto should definitely check out Sirollo. There’s a Crucifix there that is miracolosissimo.’ ↑

11 ‘Quanto la mente dell’ uomo.’ ↑

11 ‘How much the mind of man.’ ↑

12 ‘Dispetto,’ an affront, rather than an injury. ↑

12 ‘Dispetto,’ an insult, rather than a harm. ↑

13 ‘Tira via, brutta bestia,’ literally ‘fire away’—is used in all senses the same as in English. ↑

13 ‘Tira via, brutta bestia,’ which means ‘get lost, ugly beast’—is used in the same way as in English. ↑

14 The question of night flights through the air, and more, whether in the body or out of the body, than whether they were ever effected at all, was one of the most hotly contested questions of demonographers. Tartarotti, lib. I. cap. viii. § vi., winds up a long account of the subject with the following:—‘... So divided was opinion on the subject, not only of Catholics as against heterodox, but between Catholics and Catholics, that after reading in Delrio ‘qui hæc asserunt somnia esse et ludibrio certe peccant contra reverentiam Ecclesiæ matri debitam,’ and ‘Hæc opinio (somnia hæc esse) tanquam hæretica est reprobanda;’ and in Bartolomeo Spina, ‘Negare quod diabolus possit portare homines de loco in locum est hæreticum;’ you may see in Emmanuel Rodriguez, a great theologian and canonist, ‘Peccat mortaliter qui credit veneficos aut veneficas vel striges corporaliter per aëra vehi ad diversa loca, ut illi existimant;’ while Navarro mildly says, ‘Credere quod aliquando, licet raro, dæmon aliquis de loco in locum, Deo permittente, transportet non est peccatum.’

14 The question of night flights through the air, whether it was in the body or out of the body, or if they ever really happened at all, was one of the most debated topics among demonographers. Tartarotti, lib. I. cap. viii. § vi., concludes a lengthy discussion on the subject with the following:—‘... Opinions were so divided on this issue, not only between Catholics and non-Catholics but even among Catholics themselves, that after reading in Delrio ‘Those who claim that these dreams are mere nonsense are definitely offending the respect owed to the mother Church.,’ and ‘This belief (that these are dreams) should be rejected as heretical;’ and in Bartolomeo Spina, ‘Denying that the devil can take people from one place to another is heretical;’ you might see in Emmanuel Rodriguez, a significant theologian and canon lawyer, ‘Peccat mortaliter qui credit veneficos aut veneficas vel striges corporaliter per aëra vehi ad diversa loca, ut illi existimant;’ while Navarro softly states, ‘Believing that at some point, though rarely, a demon can be moved from one place to another with God's permission is not a sin..’

Tartarotti supplies a long list of writers who, in the course of the sixteenth and two following centuries, took the opposite sides on this question, and quotes from Dr. John Weir, (Protestant) physician to the Duke of Cleves (In Apol. sec. iv. p. 582), that the Protestants were most numerous on the side which maintained that it was an actual and corporeal and not a mental or imaginative transaction. Cesare Cantù has likewise given an exposition of the treatment of the question in ‘Gli Eretici d’ltalia,’ discorso xxxiii., and ‘Storia Universale,’ epoca xv. cap. 14, p. 488. In note 1 he gives a list of a dozen of the most celebrated Protestant writers who upheld the actuality of the witches’ congress. ↑

Tartarotti provides a long list of writers who, during the sixteenth and the following two centuries, took opposing sides on this issue. He quotes Dr. John Weir, a Protestant physician for the Duke of Cleves (In Apol. sec. iv. p. 582), stating that the Protestants were the majority on the side claiming it was an actual, physical event rather than a mental or imaginary one. Cesare Cantù also discusses the issue in ‘The Heretics of Italy,’ discourse xxxiii., and ‘Global History,’ epoch xv. chap. 14, p. 488. In note 1, he lists a dozen of the most well-known Protestant authors who supported the reality of the witches’ gatherings. ↑

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S. GIOVANNI BOCCA D’ORO.

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1

St. John of the Golden Mouth was another famous penitent we had here in Rome. He had treated a number of young girls shamefully, and then killed them.

St. John of the Golden Mouth was another well-known penitent we had here in Rome. He had treated several young girls horribly, and then murdered them.

But one day the grace of God touched him, and he went out into the Campagna, to a solitary place, and there, with a wattle of rushes, he made himself a hut, and lived there doing penance far, far away from any human habitation. [197]

But one day, the grace of God reached him, and he went out into the Campagna to a quiet spot. There, using a bundle of reeds, he built a hut and lived there in solitude, doing penance far away from any human settlement. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

One day a king, and his wife, and his sons, and his daughter all went out to hunt. They got overtaken by a storm, and separated; some hasted home in one direction, and some in another, but the daughter they could not find anywhere, and when they had searched everywhere for many days and could not find her, they gave her up for lost.

One day, a king, his wife, his sons, and his daughter all went out hunting. They were caught in a storm and got separated; some rushed home in one direction, while others went in another. However, they couldn't find the daughter anywhere, and after searching everywhere for many days without success, they gave up hope of finding her.

But she, as she was running, had seen the hut of St. John of the Golden Mouth, and knocked at the door.

But as she was running, she saw the hut of St. John of the Golden Mouth and knocked on the door.

‘Begone!’ shouted the penitent, thinking it was the Devil come to tempt him.

‘Go away!’ shouted the penitent, thinking it was the Devil come to tempt him.

But she continued knocking.

But she kept knocking.

‘Begone! Out into the wild! nor disturb my peace, Evil One!’ shouted he again.

"Get out! Go into the wild! Don't disturb my peace, you evil one!" he shouted again.

‘I am not the Evil One,’ answered the princess; ‘I am only a woman; I have lost my way, and crave shelter from the storm.’

‘I’m not the Evil One,’ the princess replied; ‘I’m just a woman; I’ve lost my way and need shelter from the storm.’

When he heard that, he got up and let her in; but when he saw her, he could not resist treating her as he had treated the other maidens. Then he killed her, and threw her body into a well.

When he heard that, he got up and let her in; but when he saw her, he couldn’t help but treat her like he had treated the other girls. Then he killed her and threw her body into a well.

But the next day, when he came to think of what he had done, he said to himself,

But the next day, when he thought about what he had done, he said to himself,

‘How is it possible that I, who have come here to do penance for my crimes, should out here, even in my penitential hut, commit the same crime again? I must go further from temptation, and do deeper penance yet.’

‘How is it possible that I, who came here to atone for my sins, should find myself, even in my little hut of penance, committing the same sin again? I need to distance myself from temptation and do even more penance.’

So he left the shelter of his hut, and all his clothes, and went into the wild country and lived with the wild beasts, and became like one of them. After many years he grew quite accustomed to go on all fours, and his body was all covered with hair like a lion’s, and he lost the use of speech.

So he left the safety of his hut, along with all his clothes, and went into the wilderness to live among the wild animals, becoming like one of them. After many years, he got so used to moving on all fours that his body was completely covered in hair like a lion's, and he lost the ability to speak.

Then, one day the same king went out hunting. Suddenly there was a great cry of the dogs. They had found an animal of which the huntsmen had never seen [198]the like before. So strange was it, that they said, we must not kill it, but must bring it to the king. With much difficulty they whipped the dogs off, and they brought it to the king, so like a four-footed creature had San Giovanni Bocca d’oro grown.

Then, one day, the same king went out hunting. Suddenly, there was a loud cry from the dogs. They had found an animal that the hunters had never seen before. It was so unusual that they decided they shouldn’t kill it, but instead, they should take it to the king. After a lot of effort, they managed to pull the dogs away, and they brought the creature to the king, who had grown so much like a four-legged animal. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Neither could the king make out what kind of creature it was; so he told the huntsmen to put a chain on it, and bring it to the palace.

Neither could the king figure out what kind of creature it was; so he told the hunters to put a chain on it and bring it to the palace.

When they got home to the palace, everyone was astonished at the appearance of the creature the huntsmen had with them, and they called out with such loud exclamations that the queen, who was ill in bed, heard them, and she asked what it was about. When they told her, she was seized with a violent desire to see the creature. But they said she must by no means see it, being ill; but the more they opposed her wish, the more vehement she was to see it, till, at last, the nurses said it would do more harm to continue refusing her than to let her see it.

When they got back to the palace, everyone was shocked by the appearance of the creature the huntsmen brought with them. They exclaimed so loudly that the queen, who was sick in bed, heard them and asked what was going on. When they explained, she became intensely eager to see the creature. They insisted she shouldn’t see it because she was unwell, but the more they tried to dissuade her, the more determined she became to see it. Eventually, the nurses decided it would be more harmful to keep denying her than to let her see it.

So they led the creature by the chain into her room, and placed him by her bedside.

So they brought the creature in on a chain and set him down next to her bedside.

When the queen saw him, she said, ‘This is no four-footed beast, but a man, like one of you.’ And she spoke to him, and asked him to say who he was; but he had lost the use of speech, and could not answer her.

When the queen saw him, she said, ‘This is no four-footed creature, but a man, just like one of you.’ And she spoke to him, asking him to tell her who he was; but he had lost the ability to speak and couldn’t respond to her.

Then the baby that was lying on the pillow by her side, just born, raised its head, and said out loud, so that all could hear, in a voice plain and clear—

Then the baby that was lying on the pillow next to her, just born, lifted its head and said out loud, so everyone could hear, in a voice clear and distinct—

‘Giovanni Bocca d’oro, God hath forgiven thee thy sins and iniquities.’

‘Giovanni Bocca d'oro, God has forgiven you for your sins and mistakes.’

The queen was yet more astonished when she heard her new-born babe speak thus, and she asked St. John what it could mean. When she saw he could not answer her, she ordered that they should give him pen and paper.

The queen was even more surprised when she heard her newborn baby speak like that, and she asked St. John what it could mean. When she saw he couldn't answer her, she instructed them to provide him with pen and paper.

Then, though they gave him a common pen, all he wrote appeared in letters of shining gold, and he wrote [199]down all that I have told you. Moreover, he bid them send to the well where he had thrown the body of the princess, and fetch her back.

Then, even though they gave him a regular pen, everything he wrote appeared in bright golden letters, and he wrote [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]down everything I've told you. Furthermore, he instructed them to go to the well where he had thrown the princess's body and bring her back.

When they had done so, they found her whole and sound, and only a little cicatriced wound in her throat. Then they asked her in astonishment how she had lived in that dark, damp well all these years.

When they did that, they found her safe and sound, with just a small scarred wound on her throat. Then they asked her in disbelief how she had survived in that dark, damp well all these years.

But she answered, ‘Every day there came to me a beautiful Roman matron in shining apparel, and she brought me food and consoled me, and after she had been there the well was bright, and sweet, and perfumed.’ And they knew that it must have been the Madonna.

But she answered, “Every day a beautiful Roman woman in sparkling clothes came to me. She brought me food and comforted me, and after she left, the well was bright, sweet, and fragrant.” And they realized it must have been the Madonna.

As soon as she was thus restored to her parents, and had declared these things, San Giovanni Bocca d’oro died in peace, for God had forgiven him.

As soon as she was reunited with her parents and shared what had happened, San Giovanni Bocca d’oro passed away peacefully, for God had forgiven him.

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

2

‘Ah! I knew so many of those things once, but now they are all gone, all gone.’ This was said by a fine old man, who boasted of having the same number of years and the same name as the Pope.

‘Ah! I used to know so many of those things, but now they're all gone, all gone.’ This was said by a distinguished old man, who proudly claimed to have the same number of years and the same name as the Pope.

‘I dare say you can tell me something about San Giovanni Bocca d’oro, however,’ I said.

‘I bet you can tell me something about San Giovanni Bocca d’oro, though,’ I said.

‘San Giovanni Bocca d’oro! Of course. Everybody in Rome knows about San Giovanni Bocca d’oro. Do you want to know about him? That’s not a story; that’s a fact.’

‘San Giovanni Bocca d’oro! Of course. Everybody in Rome knows about San Giovanni Bocca d’oro. Do you want to know about him? That’s not a story; that’s a fact.’

‘Yes, all you know about him I want to hear.’

‘Yes, I want to hear everything you know about him.’

‘It’s a long story—too long to remember.’

‘It’s a long story—way too long to remember.’

‘Never mind, tell me all you can recall.’

‘Never mind, just tell me everything you remember.’

‘San Giovanni Bocca d’oro lived in a village—’

‘San Giovanni Bocca d’oro lived in a village—’

‘Not in Rome, then!’ interposed I.

'Not in Rome, then!' I interrupted.

‘Yes, yes, one of the villages about Rome; I don’t remember now which, if I ever knew, but about Rome of course. One day he saw a beautiful peasant girl, and fell in love with her. But he behaved very ill to her and [200]never married her, and afterwards killed her and threw her body into a well.

‘Yes, yes, one of the villages near Rome; I can’t recall which one, if I ever knew, but definitely somewhere around Rome. One day, he saw a beautiful farmer girl and fell in love with her. However, he treated her very poorly and [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]never married her, and later, he killed her and tossed her body into a well.

‘Afterwards a great sorrow came upon him for what he had done, and he was so ashamed of his sin that he said he would remain no more to pollute other Christians with his presence, but went out into the Campagna and lived like a four-footed beast; and made a vow that he would remain with his face towards the earth1 until such time as God should be pleased to let him know, by the mouth of a little child, that His wrath was appeased.

‘Later, he felt deep sorrow for what he had done, and he was so ashamed of his sin that he said he wouldn’t stay around to pollute other Christians with his presence. He went out into the countryside and lived like an animal; he vowed to keep his face to the ground—A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ until God chose to let him know, through the words of a little child, that His anger was resolved.

‘Many years passed, and San Giovanni continued his penance without wearying, always on all fours.

‘Many years went by, and San Giovanni kept up his penance without getting tired, always on all fours.

‘One day, the nurse of some emperor or king was out with the little child she had charge of when a storm came on, and they ran and lost their way. Thus running, they came upon San Giovanni in his penance. He looked so wild and strange the nurse would have run away from him, but the child held out its arms towards him without being at all frightened, and, although so young that it had never spoken, cried aloud, “Giovanni, get up, God hath forgiven thee!”

‘One day, the nurse of a king or emperor was out with the little child she was taking care of when a storm hit, and they ran off and got lost. While running, they stumbled upon San Giovanni in his penance. He looked so wild and strange that the nurse wanted to run away from him, but the child reached out its arms toward him without being scared at all, and even though it was so young that it had never spoken, it cried out, “Giovanni, get up, God has forgiven you!”’

‘At this voice all the people gathered round, and they took him back to the village; and he went straight to the well and blessed it, and there rose out of it, all whole and fresh, the maiden whom he had killed.

‘At this voice, everyone gathered around, and they took him back to the village; he went straight to the well and blessed it, and out of it rose the maiden he had killed, whole and fresh.

‘Then he sent for pen and tablet, for he had lost the use of speech, and wrote down all that had befallen him; and as he wrote all the letters became gold. That is why he is called San Giovanni Bocca d’oro.

‘Then he called for a pen and tablet, as he had lost the ability to speak, and wrote down everything that had happened to him; and as he wrote, all the letters turned to gold. That is why he is called San Giovanni Bocca d’oro.

‘And when he had written all these things he died in peace.’

‘And when he had written all this, he died peacefully.’

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

3

In another version he was living an ordinary life in his ‘villa,’ not in a penitential cell, when the king’s daughter lost her way at the hunt. After the crime he was seized [201]with compunction, and went out into the Campagna, living only on the herbs he could gather with his mouth, like an animal, and vowing that he would never again raise his head to Heaven till God gave him some token that He had forgiven him.

In another version, he was living a normal life in his ‘villa,’ not in a prison cell, when the king’s daughter got lost during the hunt. After the crime, he was filled with remorse and went out into the Campagna, living only on the herbs he could gather with his mouth, like an animal, and swearing that he would never lift his head to Heaven until God gave him some sign that He had forgiven him.

After eight years the king found him when out hunting, and, taking him for some kind of beast, put him in the stables. The little prince who was just born was taken by to the church to be baptised about this time; and, as they carried him back past the stables, he said aloud, ‘Rise, Giovanni, for God hath forgiven thy sins.’ Every one was very much astonished to hear him speak, and they sent for Giovanni and asked him to explain what it meant.

After eight years, the king found him while hunting and, thinking he was some kind of animal, put him in the stables. Around the same time, the newborn prince was taken to the church to be baptized, and as they passed the stables with him, he said loudly, ‘Get up, Giovanni, for God has forgiven your sins.’ Everyone was quite shocked to hear him speak, so they called for Giovanni and asked him to explain what it meant.

The rest as in the other versions.

The rest as in the other versions.

[I have repeatedly come across this story, but without any material variation from one or other of the versions already given. It would be curious to trace how St. John Chrysostom’s name ever became connected with it. Though famous for his penitential life as much as for his eloquence, and though the four years he passed in the cells of the Antiochian cenobites were austere enough, yet his memory is stained by no sort of crime. So far from it, he was most carefully brought up by a widowed mother, whose exemplary virtues are said to have occasioned the exclamation from the Saint’s master, ‘What wonderful women have these Christians!’—Butler’s ‘Lives.’ There is something like its termination in that of ‘The Fiddler in Hell.’—Ralston’s ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ pp. 299, 300. The years of voluntary silence, and the finding of the silent person by a king out hunting, enter into many tales otherwise of another class, as in ‘Die Zwölf Brüder’ (the Twelve Brothers), Grimm, p. 37, and ‘Die Sechs Schwäne’ (the Six Swans), p. 191.] [202]

[I have come across this story multiple times, but there haven't been any significant changes from the previous versions. It would be interesting to see how St. John Chrysostom's name became associated with it. He was known for his life of penance as much as for his eloquence, and although he spent four austere years in the cells of the Antiochian monks, he is not remembered for any wrongdoing. On the contrary, he was raised with great care by a widowed mother, whose outstanding character is said to have prompted his master to exclaim, ‘What amazing women these Christians have!’—Butler’s ‘Lives.’ There’s something similar at the end of ‘The Fiddler in Hell.’—Ralston’s ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ pp. 299, 300. The years of voluntary silence and the discovery of the silent person by a king while hunting appear in many other stories, such as ‘Die Zwölf Brüder’ (the Twelve Brothers), Grimm, p. 37, and ‘Die Sechs Schwäne’ (the Six Swans), p. 191.] [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Bocca a terra.’ ↑

1 ‘Face down.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

DON GIOVANNI.

We had another Giovanni who had done worse things even than these, and who never became a penitent at all. Don Giovanni he was called. Everybody in Rome knew him by the name of Don Giovanni.

We had another Giovanni who did even worse things than these, and who never repented at all. He was called Don Giovanni. Everyone in Rome knew him as Don Giovanni.

Among the other bad things he did, he killed a great man who was called the Commendatore; and though he had the crime of murder on his conscience he took no account of it, but swaggered about with an air of bravado as if he cared for no one.

Among the other awful things he did, he killed a great man known as the Commendatore; and even though he carried the weight of murder on his conscience, he didn't care at all and strutted around with an attitude of bravado as if he feared no one.

One day when he was walking out in the Campagna he saw a great white skeleton coming to meet him. It was the skeleton of the commendatore whom he had killed.

One day while he was walking in the countryside, he saw a large white skeleton approaching him. It was the skeleton of the commendatore he had killed.

‘How dy’e do?’ said Don Giovanni, with effrontery. ‘There’s an Accademia1 to-night at my house, I shall be very happy to see you at it;’ and he took off his hat with mock gravity.

‘How do you do?’ said Don Giovanni, boldly. ‘There’s an Accademia1 tonight at my place, and I’d be very happy to see you there;’ and he took off his hat with exaggerated seriousness.

‘I will certainly come,’ replied the commendatore in a sepulchral voice; but Don Giovanni burst out laughing.

"I'll definitely come," replied the commendatore in a grave voice; but Don Giovanni burst out laughing.

In the midst of the Accademia some one knocked. ‘All the guests are arrived,’ said the servant, ‘yet some one knocks.’

In the middle of the Accademia, someone knocked. "All the guests have arrived," the servant said, "but someone is still knocking."

‘Never mind, open!’ replied Don Giovanni, carelessly. ‘Let him in whoever it is.’

‘Never mind, open!’ replied Don Giovanni, nonchalantly. ‘Let whoever it is come in.’

The servant went to open, and came running back to say he could not let the new guest in because he was only the miller, who had come in his white coat all over flour.

The servant went to open the door and quickly returned to say he couldn't let the new guest in because he was just the miller, who was covered in flour from head to toe in his white coat.

All soon saw, however, that the guest was not the miller, though he looked so white. For it was the white skeleton of the commendatore; and it followed the servant into the room. Then fear seized on all and they ran away to hide themselves; some behind the door, some behind the curtains, and some under the table.

All soon saw, however, that the guest was not the miller, even though he looked so pale. It was the white skeleton of the commendatore, and it followed the servant into the room. Then fear gripped everyone, and they ran to hide; some behind the door, some behind the curtains, and some under the table.

Don Giovanni stood alone in the middle of the room [203]with his usual effrontery, and held out his hand to the skeleton.

Don Giovanni stood alone in the middle of the room [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]with his typical boldness and extended his hand to the skeleton.

‘Repent thee!’2 said the White Skeleton, solemnly.

‘Repent now!’2 said the White Skeleton, seriously.

‘A cavalier like me doesn’t repent like common beggars!’ replied Don Giovanni, scornfully.

‘A guy like me doesn’t regret things like common beggars!’ replied Don Giovanni, dismissively.

‘Repent!’ again repeated the White Skeleton, with more awful emphasis.

‘Repent!’ the White Skeleton said again, emphasizing it more terrifyingly.

‘I have something much more amusing to do!’ replied Don Giovanni, with a laugh.

‘I have something far more entertaining to do!’ replied Don Giovanni, laughing.

‘Don Giovanni!’ cried the White Skeleton, the third time yet more solemnly. ‘Though you took away my life yet am I come to save your soul, if I may, and therefore I say again, Repent! or beware of what is to follow.’

‘Don Giovanni!’ cried the White Skeleton, the third time even more seriously. ‘Although you took my life, I have come to save your soul, if I can, so I say again, Repent! or watch out for what’s to come.’

‘Well done, old fellow! very generous of you!’ said Don Giovanni, with a mocking laugh, and again holding out his hand.

‘Well done, my friend! That was really generous of you!’ said Don Giovanni with a mocking laugh, extending his hand again.

They were his last words. The next minute he gave an awful yell which might have been heard all over Rome. The White Skeleton had disappeared, and the Devil had come in his place, and had taken Don Giovanni by his extended hand and dragged him off.

They were his last words. The next minute, he let out a terrible scream that could have been heard all over Rome. The White Skeleton had vanished, and in its place, the Devil appeared, grabbing Don Giovanni by his outstretched hand and pulling him away.

[Tullio Dandolo, ‘Monachismo e Leggende’ p. 314–5, quotes a similar legend from Passavanti, ‘Specchio della vera Penitenza.’ The story of Don Giovanni’s misdeeds brought up in the narrator’s mind those of Pepe (Giuseppe) Mastrilo, famous in the annals of both Spanish and Italian bandits. It was, however, only a story of violence and crime without point.]

[Tullio Dandolo, ‘Monachismo e Leggende’ p. 314–5, quotes a similar legend from Passavanti, ‘Specchio della vera Penitenza.’ The story of Don Giovanni’s wrongdoings reminded the narrator of those of Pepe (Giuseppe) Mastrilo, who is infamous in the histories of both Spanish and Italian bandits. However, it was just a tale of violence and crime without any real meaning.]

1 ‘Accademia’ used here for ‘Conversazione.’ ↑

1 ‘Accademia’ is used here for ‘Conversation.’ ↑

2 ‘Pentiti!’ ↑

2 ‘Repent!’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE PENANCE OF SAN GIULIANO.

‘Can you tell me the story of San Giovanni Bocca d’oro?’

‘Can you tell me the story of San Giovanni Bocca d’oro?’

‘Of course I know about San Giovanni Bocca d’oro, that is, I know he was a great penitent, but I couldn’t remember [204]anything, not to tell you about him. But I know about another great penitent. Do you know about the Penitence of San Giuliano? That is a story you’ll like if you don’t know it already; but it’s not a favola, mind.’

‘Of course I know about San Giovanni Bocca d’oro; I know he was a great penitent, but I couldn’t remember [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]anything to tell you about him. But I know another great penitent. Do you know the story of the Penitence of San Giuliano? That is a story you’ll like if you don’t already know it; but it’s not a fairy tale, just so you know.’

‘I know there are seven or eight saints at least of the name of Julian, but I don’t know the acts of them all; so pray tell me your story.’

‘I know there are at least seven or eight saints named Julian, but I’m not familiar with all their stories; so please share yours with me.’

‘Here it is then.

'Here it is.'

‘San Giuliano was the only son of his parents, who lived at Albano. In his youth he was rather wild,1 and gave his parents some anxiety; but what gave them more anxiety still on his account was that an astrologer had predicted that when he grew up he should kill both his parents.

‘San Giuliano was the only child of his parents, who lived in Albano. As a kid, he was quite rebellious, and this caused his parents some worry; but what worried them even more was that an astrologer had predicted that when he grew up, he would kill both of his parents.

‘“It is not only for our lives,” said the parents, “that we should be concerned—that is no such great matter; but we must put him out of the way of committing so great a crime.”

‘“It’s not just our lives,” said the parents, “that we should be worried about—that’s not that big of a deal; we need to keep him from committing such a serious crime.”

‘Therefore they gave him a horse, and his portion of money, and told him to ride forth and make himself a home in another place. So San Giuliano went forth; and thirty years passed, and his parents heard no more of him. Thirty years is a long time; many things pass out of mind in thirty years. Thus the astrologer’s prediction passed out of their minds; but what never passes out of the mind of a mother is the love of her child, and the mother of San Giuliano yearned to see him after thirty years as though he had gone away but yesterday.

‘So they gave him a horse and his share of money and told him to ride off and make a life for himself somewhere else. San Giuliano left; thirty years went by, and his parents never heard from him again. Thirty years is a long time; many things are forgotten in that span. The astrologer’s prediction faded from their memories, but what never leaves a mother's heart is her love for her child. After thirty years, San Giuliano’s mother longed to see him as if he had just left yesterday.’

‘One day when they were walking in the woods about Albano they saw a little boy come and climb into a tree and take a bird’s nest; and presently, after the little boy was gone away with the nest, the parent birds came back and fluttered all about, and uttered piercing cries for the loss of their young.

‘One day while they were walking in the woods near Albano, they saw a little boy come along, climb a tree, and take a bird’s nest. Soon after the boy left with the nest, the parent birds returned and fluttered around, letting out heartbreaking cries for the loss of their young.

‘“See!” said San Giuliano’s mother, taking occasion [205]by this example, “how these unreasoning creatures care for the loss of their young, and we live away from our only son and are content.”

‘“Look!” said San Giuliano’s mother, taking this example as a cue [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__], “how these senseless animals mourn for their lost young, while we are away from our only son and don’t seem to mind.”

‘“By no means are we content,” replied the father; “let us therefore rise now and go seek him.”

‘“We are definitely not satisfied,” replied the father; “let’s get up now and go look for him.”’

‘So they put on pilgrims’ weeds, and wandered forth to seek their son. On and on they went till they came to a place, a city called Galizia;2 and there, as they walk along weary, they meet a gentle lady, who looks upon them mildly and compassionately, and says, “Whence do you come, poor pilgrims? what a long way you must have travelled!”3

‘So they put on pilgrim clothes and set off to find their son. They traveled on until they reached a city called Galizia;2 and there, as they walked along tired, they met a kind lady who looked at them gently and with compassion, and said, “Where do you come from, poor pilgrims? You must have traveled a long way!”3

‘And they, cheered by her mode of address and sympathy, make answer, “We have wandered over mountains and plains. We come from the mountain town of Albano. We go about seeking our son Giuliano.”4

‘And they, encouraged by her way of speaking and kindness, reply, “We have traveled across mountains and plains. We come from the mountain town of Albano. We are searching for our son Giuliano.”4

‘“Giuliano!” exclaimed the lady, “is the name of my husband. Just now he is out hunting, but come in with me and receive my hospitality for love of his name.” She took them home and washed their feet, and refreshed them, and set food before them, and ultimately gave them her own bed to sleep in.

‘“Giuliano!” the lady exclaimed, “is my husband’s name. He’s out hunting right now, but come inside and enjoy my hospitality in his honor.” She brought them to her home, washed their feet, refreshed them, and served them food, and in the end, offered them her own bed to sleep in.

‘But the Devil came to Giuliano out hunting, and tempted him with jealous thoughts about his wife, and tormented him with all manner of calumnious insinuations, so that his mind was filled with fury. Coming home hunting-knife in hand, he rushed into the bedroom, and seeing two forms in bed, without waiting to know who they were, he plunged his knife into them, and killed them.

‘But the Devil came to Giuliano while he was hunting and tempted him with jealous thoughts about his wife, tormenting him with all sorts of slanderous suggestions, filling his mind with rage. Returning home with a hunting knife in hand, he burst into the bedroom, and seeing two figures in bed, without pausing to figure out who they were, he plunged his knife into them and killed them.

‘Thus, without knowing it, he had killed both his father and his mother.

‘So, without realizing it, he had killed both his father and mother.

‘Coming out of the room he met his wife, who came to seek him to welcome him.

‘As he stepped out of the room, he ran into his wife, who had come to find him and greet him.

‘“What, you here!” he cried. “Who then are those in the bed, whom I have killed?” [206]

‘“What, you’re here!” he exclaimed. “Then who are those in the bed that I’ve killed?” [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘“Killed!” replied the wife, “they were a pilgrim couple to whom I gave hospitality for love of you, because they wandered seeking a son named Giuliano.” Then Giuliano knew what he had done, and was seized with penitence for his hasty yielding to suspicion and anger. So stricken with sorrow was he, he was as one dead, nor could anyone move him to speak. Then his wife came to him and said, “We will do penance together; we will lay aside ease and riches, and will devote ourselves to the poor and needy.”

‘“Killed!” replied the wife, “they were a couple of travelers I took in out of love for you, because they were looking for a son named Giuliano.” Then Giuliano realized what he had done, and he was overwhelmed with regret for giving in to his suspicions and anger. He was so filled with sorrow that he seemed like a dead man, and nobody could get him to speak. Then his wife approached him and said, “We will do penance together; we will give up comfort and wealth, and we will commit ourselves to helping the poor and needy.”’

‘And he embraced her and said, “It is well spoken.”

‘And he hugged her and said, “Well said.”

‘Near where they lived was a rapid river, and no bridge, and many were drowned in attempting to cross it, and many had a weary way to walk to find a bridge. Said Giuliano, “We will build a bridge over the river.” And many pilgrims came to Galizia who had not where to rest. Said Giuliano, “We will build a hospice for poor pilgrims, where they may be received and be tended according to their needs, till God forgives me.”

‘Near where they lived was a fast-flowing river, and there was no bridge. Many people drowned trying to cross it, and others had to walk a long way to find a bridge. Giuliano said, “We will build a bridge over the river.” Many pilgrims came to Galizia looking for a place to rest. Giuliano said, “We will build a hospice for poor pilgrims, where they can be received and cared for according to their needs, until God forgives me.”

‘So they set forth, Giuliano and his wife, to go to Rome to find workmen.5 But as they went, a troop met them, and came round them, and said to them, “Where are you going?”

‘So they set out, Giuliano and his wife, heading to Rome to find workers.5 But as they traveled, a group encountered them, surrounded them, and asked, “Where are you headed?”

‘“We go to Rome,” answered Giuliano, “to find workmen to build a bridge.”

“We’re going to Rome,” Giuliano replied, “to find workers to build a bridge.”

‘“We are your men, we are your men; for we have built many bridges ere now.”6

‘“We are your people, we are your people; because we have built many bridges before now.”6

‘Then Giuliano took them back with him, and all in two days they built the bridge.

‘Then Giuliano took them back with him, and all within two days they built the bridge.

‘“How can this be?” said Giuliano’s wife; “here is something that is not right,” for she was so holy that she discerned the Evil One was in it.

“‘How can this be?” said Giuliano’s wife; “something isn't right here,” for she was so pure that she realized the Evil One was involved.

‘“Be sure, Giuliano,” she said, “there is some snare here. Take, therefore, a cheese, hard and round, and roll it along the bridge,7 and send our dog after it; if they get across, well and good.” [207]

‘“Be careful, Giuliano,” she said, “there’s a trap here. So, take a hard, round cheese and roll it across the bridge, 7 and send our dog after it; if they make it across, then all is well.” [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Giuliano, always prone to accept his wife’s prudent counsel, did as she bid him, and rolled the cheese along the bridge, and sent the dog after it; and, see! no sooner were they in the middle of the bridge than the bridge sank in; and they knew that the Devil had built it, and that it was no bridge for Christians to go over.

‘Giuliano, always willing to heed his wife’s sensible advice, did as she asked and rolled the cheese along the bridge, sending the dog after it; and, look! No sooner were they in the middle of the bridge than it collapsed; and they realized that the Devil had built it, and that it wasn’t a bridge for Christians to cross.

‘Then said Giuliano, “God has not forgiven me yet. Now, let us build the hospice.”

‘Then Giuliano said, “God hasn’t forgiven me yet. Now, let’s build the hospice.”’

‘They set out, therefore, to go to Rome to find workmen to build the hospice; and when the troop of demons came round them, saying, “We are your workmen, we are your workmen!” they paid them no heed, but went on to Rome, and fetched workmen thence, and the hospice was built; and all the pilgrims who came they received, and gave them hospitality, and the whole house was full of pilgrims.

‘They set out to go to Rome to find workers to build the hospice; and when the group of demons surrounded them, saying, “We are your workers, we are your workers!” they ignored them and continued on to Rome, where they brought back workers, and the hospice was built; and all the pilgrims who arrived were welcomed, and they offered them hospitality, and the entire house was filled with pilgrims.

‘Then, when the house was full, quite full of pilgrims, there came an old man, and begged admission. “Good man,” said Giuliano’s wife, “it grieves my heart to say so, but there is not a bed, nor so much as an empty corner left;” and the old man said:

‘Then, when the house was completely full of pilgrims, an old man arrived and asked to come in. “Good sir,” said Giuliano’s wife, “it pains me to say this, but there isn’t a bed or even a free corner left;” and the old man replied:

‘“If ye cannot receive me, it is because ye have done so much charity to me already; therefore take this staff:” so he gave them his pilgrim’s staff, and went his way.

“'If you can't accept me, it's because you've already done so much kindness for me; so take this staff:' and he gave them his pilgrim's staff and went on his way.”

‘But it was Jesus Christ who came in the semblance of that old man; and when Giuliano took the staff, behold three flowers blossomed on it, and he said:

‘But it was Jesus Christ who appeared as that old man; and when Giuliano took the staff, three flowers blossomed on it, and he said:

‘“See! God has forgiven me!”’ [208]

“Look! God has forgiven me!” [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

[Now I see this story in type I am inclined to think it is not strictly traditional, like the rest; but that the narrator had acquired it from one of the rimed legends mentioned at p. vii.]

[Now that I see this story in print, I think it’s not entirely traditional like the others; rather, the narrator must have gotten it from one of the rhymed legends mentioned on p. vii.]

1 ‘Discolo,’ ‘wild,’ ‘fast.’ ↑

1 'Unruly,' 'feral,' 'quick.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 The shrine of S. Iago di Compostella being traditionally known to the Roman poor as ‘S. Giacomo di Galizia,’ Galizia was not very unnaturally supposed by the narrator to be the name of a town. ↑

2 The shrine of S. Iago di Compostella, traditionally known to the Roman poor as 'S. Giacomo di Galizia,' was understandably thought by the narrator to be the name of a town. ↑

3

3

‘Dovene siete, poveri pellegrini,

‘Where have you come from, poor pilgrims,

Quanti son’ lunghi i vostri cammini?’

Quanti sono lunghi i vostri percorsi?

 ↑

↑

4

4

‘Avemo camminati monti e piani,

"We've walked mountains and plains,"

E siamo di Castello mont’ Albano,

We are from Castello Mont'Albano,

Andiamo cercando un figlio Giuliano.’

We're looking for a son, Giuliano.

A walled village, whether it had an actual castle or not, had the name of ‘Castello;’ and ‘Castello’ is the common name to the present day in Rome for the villages in the neighbourhood.  ↑

A walled village, whether it had a real castle or not, was called ‘Castello;’ and ‘Castello’ is still the common name used today in Rome for the villages in the area. ↑

5 ‘Mastri.’ ↑

5 ‘Masters.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

6

6

‘Noi siamo i mastri! noi siamo i mastri!

‘We are the masters! we are the masters!

Chè tanti ponti abbiamo fatti.’

How many bridges have we built?

 ↑

↑

7 ‘Arruzzicatelo’ was the word used. Ruzzica is a game played by rolling circles of wood of a certain thickness along a smooth alley. She tells him to roll the cheese in this way as an inducement to the dog to go over to try the strength of the bridge. ↑

7 “Arruzzicatelo” was the term used. Ruzzica is a game played by rolling wooden discs of a specific thickness down a smooth path. She tells him to roll the cheese this way to encourage the dog to test the strength of the bridge. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE PILGRIMS.

There was a husband and wife, who had been married two or three years, and had no children. At last, they made a vow to S. Giacomo di Galizia that if they only had two children, one boy and one girl, even if no more than that, they would be so grateful that they would go a pilgrimage to his shrine, all the way to Galizia.

There was a husband and wife who had been married for two or three years and had no children. Finally, they made a promise to St. James of Galicia that if they had just two kids, one boy and one girl, even if that was all, they would be so thankful that they would go on a pilgrimage to his shrine all the way to Galicia.

In due time two children were born to them, a boy and a girl, who were twins; and they were full of gladness and rejoicing, and devoted themselves to the care of their children, but they forgot all about their vow. When many years were passed, and the children were, it maybe, fifteen or sixteen years old, they dreamed a dream, both husband and wife in one night, that St. James appeared, and said:

In time, they had two children, a boy and a girl, who were twins. They were filled with joy and happiness, completely devoted to raising their kids, but they forgot all about their promise. After many years had passed, and when the children were around fifteen or sixteen years old, both the husband and wife dreamed the same dream one night in which St. James appeared and said:

‘You made a vow to visit my shrine if you had two children. Two children have been born to you, and you have not kept your vow; most certainly evil will overtake you for your broken word. Behold, time is given you; but if now you fulfil not your vow, both your children will die.’ [209]

‘You promised to visit my shrine if you had two children. You now have two children, and you haven’t kept your promise; you will definitely face consequences for your broken word. Look, time is granted to you; but if you don’t fulfill your promise now, both of your children will die.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

In the morning the wife told the dream to the husband, and the husband told the dream to the wife, and they said to each other, ‘This is no common dream; we must look to it.’ So they bought pilgrims’ dresses, and went to ‘Galizia,’ the husband, and wife, and the son; but concerning the daughter they said, ‘The maiden is of too tender years for this journey, let her stay with her nurse;’ and they left her in the charge of the nurse and the parish priest. But that priest was a bad man—for it will happen that a priest may be bad sometimes; and, instead of leading her right, he wanted her to do many bad things, and when she would not listen to him, he wrote false letters to her parents about her, and gave a report of her conduct to shock her parents. When the brother saw these letters of the priest concerning his sister, he was indignant with her, and, without waiting for his parents’ advice, went back home quickly, and killed her with his dagger, and threw her body into a ditch. But he went back to the shrine of St. James to live in penance.

In the morning, the wife shared her dream with her husband, and the husband shared his dream with his wife. They both agreed, “This dream is special; we need to pay attention to it.” So, they bought pilgrim outfits and set off to 'Galicia'—the husband, wife, and their son. As for their daughter, they decided, “She’s too young for this journey; let her stay with her nurse.” They left her in the care of the nurse and the parish priest. But the priest was a bad man—sometimes priests can be bad—and instead of guiding her properly, he tempted her into doing wrong things. When she refused to listen to him, he wrote deceitful letters to her parents about her and reported her behavior to shame them. When the brother saw the priest’s letters about his sister, he was outraged and, without waiting for his parents’ advice, rushed home, killed her with his dagger, and dumped her body in a ditch. He then returned to the shrine of St. James to live in penance.

Not long had her body lain in the ditch when a king’s son came by hunting, and the dogs scented the blood of a Christian lying in the ditch, and bayed over it till the huntsmen came and took out the body; when they saw it was the body of a fair maiden, yet warm, they showed it to the prince, and the prince when he saw the maiden, loved her, and took her to a convent to be healed of her wound, and afterwards married her; and when his father died, he was king and she became a queen.

Not long after her body was left in the ditch, a prince passed by while hunting, and the dogs picked up the scent of a Christian lying there. They barked until the hunters arrived and retrieved the body. When they saw it was a beautiful young woman, still warm, they showed her to the prince. Upon seeing her, he fell in love with her and took her to a convent to heal her wounds. Later, he married her; when his father died, he became king, and she became queen.

But her father and mother, hearing only that her brother had killed her and thrown her body in the ditch, and supposing she was dead, said one to the other, ‘Why should we go back home, seeing that our daughter is dead? What have we to go home for? There is nothing but sorrow for us there.’ So they remained at the shrine of St. James, and built a hospice for poor pilgrims, and tended them. [210]

But her dad and mom, only hearing that her brother had killed her and dumped her body in the ditch, and thinking she was dead, said to each other, “Why should we go back home if our daughter is dead? What do we have to go home for? There’s nothing but sadness for us there.” So they stayed at the shrine of St. James, built a hospice for poor pilgrims, and took care of them. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Meantime the daughter, who had become a queen, she also had two children, a boy and a girl, and her husband rejoiced in them and in her. But troubled times came, and her husband had to go forth to battle, and while she was left without him in the palace, the viceroy came to her and wanted her to do wrong, and when she would not listen to him, he took her two children and killed them before her eyes. ‘What do I here,’ said she, ‘seeing my two children are dead?’ And she took the bodies of her children and went forth. When she had wandered long by solitary places, she came one day to a mountain, and at the foot of the mountain sat a dwarf,1 and the dwarf had compassion when he saw how she was worn with crying, and he said to her, ‘Go up the mountain and be consoled.’ Thus she went up the mountain till she saw a majestic woman, with an infant in her arms; and this was the Madonna, you must know.2

In the meantime, the daughter, who had become a queen, had two children, a boy and a girl, and her husband was happy with them and with her. But then tough times hit, and her husband had to go off to battle. While she waited for him in the palace, the viceroy approached her and tried to tempt her into wrongdoing. When she refused to listen to him, he took her two children and killed them in front of her. “What am I to do now,” she cried, “seeing my two children are dead?” She took the bodies of her children and left. After wandering for a long time in lonely places, she eventually came to a mountain, where at its foot sat a dwarf. The dwarf felt sympathy when he saw how worn out she looked from crying, and he said to her, “Climb the mountain and find comfort.” So she ascended the mountain until she saw a majestic woman holding an infant in her arms; this was the Madonna, as you must know.

When she saw a woman like herself, with a child too, for all that she looked so bright and majestic, she was consoled; and she poured all her story into her ear. ‘And I would go to S. Giacomo di Galizia to ask that my husband’s love may be restored to me, for I know the viceroy will calumniate me to him; but how can I leave these children?’ Then the lady said, ‘Leave your children with me, and they shall be with my child, and go you to Galizia as you have said, and be consoled.’ So she put on pilgrim’s weeds, and went to Galizia.

When she saw a woman like herself, also with a child, and despite her bright and regal appearance, she felt comforted; and she shared her entire story with her. “I want to go to S. Giacomo di Galizia to ask that my husband’s love be restored to me, because I know the viceroy will badmouth me to him; but how can I leave these kids?” Then the lady replied, “Leave your children with me, and they can stay with my child. Go to Galizia as you plan, and find comfort.” So she put on her pilgrim's clothes and headed to Galizia.

Meantime the king came back from battle, and the viceroy told him evil about the queen; and his mother, who also believed the viceroy, said, ‘Did I not tell you a woman picked up is never good for anything?’3 But the king was grieved, for he had loved the queen dearly, and he took a pilgrim’s dress and went to Galizia, to the shrine of S. Giacomo, to pray that she might be forgiven. Then the viceroy, he too was seized with compunction, and, unknown to the king, he too became a pilgrim, and went to do penance at the same shrine. [211]

In the meantime, the king returned from battle, and the viceroy spoke negatively about the queen; his mother, who also believed the viceroy, said, ‘Didn’t I tell you that a woman picked up is never good for anything?’ But the king was heartbroken, as he had loved the queen deeply. He put on a pilgrim's outfit and went to Galizia, to the shrine of S. Giacomo, to pray for her forgiveness. Then the viceroy, feeling guilty himself, secretly became a pilgrim and went to do penance at the same shrine. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Thus it happened that they all met together, without knowing each other, in the hospice that that husband and wife had built at Galizia; and when they had paid their devotions at the shrine, and all sat together in the hospice in the evening, all told some tale of what he had seen and what he had heard. But there sat one who told nothing. Then said the king to this one, ‘And you, good man, why do you tell no story?’ for he knew not that it was the queen, nor that it was even a woman.

Thus, it happened that they all gathered together, not knowing each other, in the hospice that the husband and wife had built in Galizia. After they paid their respects at the shrine and all sat together in the hospice in the evening, everyone shared a story about what they had seen and heard. But there was one person who remained silent. Then the king said to this person, "And you, good sir, why aren't you telling a story?" for he did not realize that it was the queen, nor that it was even a woman.

Thus appealed to, however, she rose and told a tale of how there had been a husband and wife who had made a vow that if they had children, they would go a pilgrimage to S. Giacomo di Galizia; ‘and,’ said she, ‘they were just two people such as you might be,’ and she pointed to the two who were founders of the hospice. And that when they were absent, and left their daughter behind, the parish priest calumniated her, so that her brother came back and stabbed her, and threw her body in a ditch. ‘And he was just such a young man, strong and ardent, as you may have been,’ and she pointed to the son of the founders. ‘But that maiden was not dead,’ she went on, ‘and a king found her, and married her, and she had two children, and lived happily with him till he went to the wars, then the viceroy calumniated her till she ran away out of the palace; and the viceroy was just such a one, strong and dark, as you may be,’ and she pointed to the viceroy, who sat trembling in a corner; ‘and when the king came back, he told him evil of her; but that king was noble and pious as you may be,’ and she pointed to the king, ‘and in his heart he believed no evil of his wife, but went to S. Giacomo di Galizia to pray that the truth might be made plain.’

Thus appealed to, she got up and shared a story about a husband and wife who made a vow that if they had children, they would go on a pilgrimage to S. Giacomo di Galizia. “And,” she said, “they were just two people like you might be,” and she pointed to the two who founded the hospice. When they were away and left their daughter behind, the parish priest slandered her, leading her brother to come back and stab her, then throw her body in a ditch. “And he was just like a young man, strong and passionate, as you might be,” and she pointed to the son of the founders. “But that girl wasn’t dead,” she continued, “and a king found her, married her, and they had two children. She lived happily with him until he went off to war. Then the viceroy slandered her until she ran away from the palace; and the viceroy was just like one, strong and dark, as you might be,” and she pointed to the viceroy, who was trembling in a corner. “When the king returned, he was told bad things about her; but that king was noble and good, like you might be,” and she pointed to the king, “and in his heart, he believed no evil of his wife, but went to S. Giacomo di Galizia to pray that the truth would be revealed.”

As she spoke, one after another they all arose, and said, ‘How comes this peasant to know all the story of my life; and who has sent him to declare it here!’ and they were all strangely moved, and called upon the peasant to [212]tell them who had shown him these things. But the supposed peasant answered, ‘My old grandfather, as we sat on the hearth together.’4 ‘That cannot be,’ said they, ‘for to every one of us you have told his own life; and now you must tell us more, for we will not rest till we have righted her who has thus suffered.’ When she found them so earnest and so determined to do right, she said further, ‘That queen am I!’ and she took off her hood, and they knew her, and all fell round and embraced her. Then said the king, ‘And on this viceroy, on whose account you have suffered so sadly, what vengeance will you have on him?’ But she said, ‘I will have no vengeance; but now that he has come to the shrine of Galizia, God will forgive him; and may he find peace!’

As she talked, one by one, they all stood up and said, “How does this peasant know all the details of my life, and who sent him to share it here?” They were all oddly affected and urged the peasant to [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]tell them who had revealed these things to him. But the supposed peasant replied, “My old grandfather, while we were sitting together by the fire.”4 “That can’t be,” they said, “because you’ve shared the life story of each one of us; now you need to tell us more since we won’t stop until we have made things right for her who has suffered so much.” When she saw how sincere and determined they were to do what was right, she added, “I am that queen!” She removed her hood, and they recognized her, immediately surrounding her and embracing her. The king then asked, “And what punishment will you seek for this viceroy, who has caused you so much grief?” But she replied, “I want no punishment; now that he has come to the shrine of Galizia, may God forgive him; and may he find peace!”

Thus all were restored and united; and when she had embraced her parents and her brother, and spent some days with them, she went home with her husband and reigned in his kingdom.

Thus, everyone was brought back together; and after she hugged her parents and her brother, and spent some time with them, she returned home with her husband and ruled in his kingdom.

[The story seemed to be ended, and I hoped it was, for the way in which the children were left seemed a poetic way of describing their death; but to make sure, I said, ‘And the children, they remained with the Madonna?’

[The story seemed to be over, and I hoped it was, because the way the children were left felt like a poetic way to describe their death; but to be sure, I asked, ‘And the children, they stayed with the Madonna?’]

‘No, no! I forgot. It’s well you reminded me. No; by their way home they went back to the mountain, and they found their children well cared for by that “Majestic Lady,” and playing with her Bambino; she gave the children back, and blessed them, and then went up to heaven; and they built a chapel in the place where she had been.’] [213]

‘No, no! I forgot. It's good you reminded me. No; on their way home, they went back to the mountain, and they found their children well taken care of by that “Majestic Lady,” playing with her Bambino; she returned the children, blessed them, and then went up to heaven; and they built a chapel where she had been.’] [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Uomicino,’ a little man. As the narrator had come to the borders of Wonderland, this must, I think, be taken to be one of those dwarfs—little men of the mountains, ‘Bergmänlein,’ who have so large a place in German, especially in Tirolean mythology, but are so rarely to be met in that of Rome. ↑

1 ‘Uomicino,’ a little man. As the narrator reached the borders of Wonderland, I believe this should be regarded as one of those dwarfs—small mountain men, ‘Bergman kids,’ who play a significant role in German, especially Tirolean mythology, but are seldom found in Roman mythology. ↑

2 ‘Una donna maestosa con un bambino in braccia; e questa era la Madonna, capisce.’ This use of the verb capire to express ‘you see,’ &c., is a favourite Romanism; in Tuscany they use the verb intendere. ↑

2 ‘A majestic woman holding a child in her arms; and this was the Madonna, you see.’ This use of the verb capire to express ‘you see,’ etc., is a common Romanism; in Tuscany, they use the verb intendere. ↑

3 ‘Donna trovata non fu mai buona.’ ↑

3 "A woman who is found will never be good." ↑

4 ‘Il nonno accanto al fuoco.’ Giving to understand that it was an old traditionary tale. ↑

4 ‘Grandpa by the fire.’ Indicating that it was an old traditional story. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

SANTA VERDANA.

There was a man with a general shop who had an excellent girl for a servant, and she was so honest as well as diligent that he left her to attend to the shop besides doing the work. All he gave her to do she did well, and his business flourished without his having any trouble about it.

There was a man who owned a general store and had a great girl working for him as a servant. She was not only honest but also hardworking, so he left her to manage the shop while also taking care of other tasks. Everything he assigned to her, she handled well, and his business thrived without him having to worry about it.

But some envious people came to him and said that the girl had given away all his substance, and there was nothing left; so he watched, and he saw it was indeed so. To every poor person who came she gave whatever they asked for the love of God, and all the stores and presses were empty. Yet, as there seemed no lack of anything either, and when customers came she always continued to supply them, he hesitated to interfere.

But some jealous people came to him and said that the girl had given away all his possessions, and there was nothing left; so he watched, and saw that it was true. To every poor person who came, she gave whatever they asked for the love of God, and all the stores and cupboards were empty. Yet, since it seemed like there was never a shortage of anything, and whenever customers came she always continued to serve them, he hesitated to step in.

So it might have gone on, only people went on whispering doubts. And one said one day, ‘Suppose she should die, where would you be then?’ That is true, he thought to himself, and upon that he went and asked her where all the things were gone. She never made any reply, but knelt down and prayed, and as she prayed all the presses and stores became full again with all kinds of merchandise as at the first. But she went away from him after that, and built herself a cell, walled up all round, next to the church of St. Anthony, where she lived in continual prayer, and she took a brick out of the wall to make a hole through which she heard mass. At last one day came when they saw her no more at the hole hearing mass, and they opened her cell and found her lying on the floor with her hands crossed on her breast, and the cell was filled with a beautiful perfume, for she had been sanctified there, and her soul had gone thence to God. [214]

So it might have continued, but people kept whispering doubts. One day, someone said, “What if she dies? Where would that leave you?” That thought struck him, so he went and asked her where everything had gone. She didn’t answer but knelt down and prayed, and as she prayed, all the shelves and storerooms filled up again with all kinds of goods, just like before. But after that, she left him and built herself a cell, completely walled in, next to St. Anthony's church, where she lived in constant prayer. She removed a brick from the wall to create a small opening through which she could hear mass. Eventually, there came a day when she was no longer seen at the opening hearing mass, and they opened her cell to find her lying on the floor with her hands crossed over her chest, and the cell was filled with a beautiful fragrance, for she had been sanctified there, and her soul had gone to God. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

SAN SIDORO.

[This seems very like another version of the foregoing.]

[This looks a lot like another version of the previous one.]

St. Isidor was the steward of a rich man, and as he was filled with holy piety and compassion, he could never turn away from any that begged of him, but gave to all liberally; to one Indian corn meal, to another beans, to another lentils.

St. Isidor was a steward for a wealthy man, and since he was full of holy devotion and kindness, he could never refuse anyone who asked for his help. He generously gave to everyone: cornmeal to one person, beans to another, and lentils to yet another.

At last men with envious tongues came to his master and said: ‘This steward of yours of whom you think so much is wasting all your substance, and he has given away so much to the poor that there can be nothing left in any of your barns and storehouses; you had better look to it.’ The master, after hearing this, came down to St. Isidor very angry, and bade him bring the keys and open all the barns and storehouses. St. Isidor did as he was bid without an angry word, and behold they were all so full of grain and beans, and every species of good gift of God, that you could not go into them, they were full to the very doors. After that the master let him give away as much as he would.

At last, some jealous men went to his master and said, "The steward you think so highly of is wasting all your resources, and he has given away so much to the poor that there can’t be anything left in your barns and storehouses; you should check on this." The master, upon hearing this, went to St. Isidor very angry and told him to bring the keys and open all the barns and storehouses. St. Isidor did as he was told without a word of anger, and behold, they were all so full of grain and beans, and every kind of good gift from God, that you couldn’t even enter them; they were packed to the doors. After that, the master allowed him to give away as much as he wanted.

[I have heard the same at Siena told of San Gherardo, or Gheraldo as the people call him, under the character of a Franciscan laybrother. He seemed to give away all the provisions people gave him in alms for the convent, but when the Superior, warned by envious tongues, chid him, he showed that there remained over more than sufficient for the needs of the community.]

[I have heard the same at Siena about San Gherardo, or Gheraldo as the locals call him, in his role as a Franciscan lay brother. He appeared to distribute all the food that people donated to him for the convent, but when the Superior, alerted by envious whispers, scolded him, he demonstrated that there was still more than enough left for the needs of the community.]

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THE FISHPOND OF ST. FRANCIS.1

St. Francis had a little fishpond, where he kept some gold and silver fish as a pastime.

St. Francis had a small fishpond where he kept some gold and silver fish for enjoyment.

Some bad people wanted to vex him, and they went and caught these poor little fish and fried them, and sent them up to him for dinner. [215]

Some mean people wanted to annoy him, so they went and caught these poor little fish, fried them, and sent them up to him for dinner. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

But St. Francis when he saw them knew that they were his gold fish, and made the sign of the cross over them, and blessed them, and soon they became alive again, and he took them and put them back into the fishpond, and no one durst touch them again after that.

But St. Francis, when he saw them, recognized that they were his goldfish. He made the sign of the cross over them and blessed them. Soon, they came back to life, and he took them and put them back into the fishpond. After that, no one dared to touch them again.

1 ‘La Pescheria di San Francesco.’ Pescheria, see p. 45. Many Italian convents are provided with such. ↑

1 ‘The San Francisco Fish Market.’ Fish markets, see p. 45. Many Italian convents have these. ↑

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ST. ANTHONY.

St. Anthony’s father was accused of murder, and as facts seemed against him, he was condemned to be executed.

St. Anthony’s dad was accused of murder, and since the evidence looked bad for him, he was sentenced to death.

St. Anthony was preaching in the pulpit as his father was taken to the scaffold. ‘Allow me to stop for a minute to take breath,’ he said, and he made a minute’s pause in the midst of his discourse, and then went on again.

St. Anthony was preaching in the pulpit while his father was being led to the scaffold. "Let me take a moment to catch my breath," he said, pausing for a minute in the middle of his talk before continuing.

But in that minute’s pause, though no one in church had lost sight of him, he had gone on to the scaffold.

But in that brief moment of silence, even though no one in church had taken their eyes off him, he had moved on to the scaffold.

‘What are you doing to that man?’ he asked.

‘What are you doing to that guy?’ he asked.

‘He has committed a murder, and is going to be executed.’

‘He has committed murder and is going to be executed.’

‘He has murdered no one. Bring hither the dead man.’

‘He hasn't killed anyone. Bring the dead man here.’

No one knew who it was that spoke, but they felt impelled to obey him nevertheless.

No one knew who was speaking, but they felt compelled to listen to him anyway.

When the dead man’s body was brought, St. Anthony said to him:—

When the dead man's body was brought in, St. Anthony said to him:—

‘Is this the man who killed you? say!’

‘Is this the guy who killed you? Tell me!’

The dead man opened his eyes and looked at the accused.

The dead man opened his eyes and looked at the accused.

‘Oh, no; that’s not the man at all!’ he said.

‘Oh, no; that’s not the guy at all!’ he said.

‘And you, where are you?’ continued St. Anthony.

‘And you, where are you?’ continued St. Anthony.

‘I should be in Paradise, but that there is a ground of excommunication on me, therefore am I in Purgatory,’ answered the dead man. Then St. Anthony put his ear down, [216]and bid him tell him the matter of the excommunication; and, when he had confessed it, he released him from the bond, and he went straight to Paradise. The father of St. Anthony, too, was pronounced innocent, and set free.

‘I should be in Paradise, but because there’s an excommunication against me, I'm stuck in Purgatory,’ the dead man replied. Then St. Anthony leaned in closer and asked him to explain the reason for the excommunication; once he had confessed, St. Anthony freed him from the curse, and he went straight to Paradise. The father of St. Anthony was also declared innocent and was released.

And all the while no one had missed St. Anthony from the pulpit!

And all that time, no one had noticed that St. Anthony was missing from the pulpit!

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2

SANT’ ANTONIO E SORA1 CASTITRE.

I too know a story about St. Anthony.

I also know a story about St. Anthony.

St. Anthony was a fair youth, as you will always see in his portraits. As he went about preaching there was a young woman who began to admire him very much, and her name was Sora Castitre. Whenever she could find out in which direction he was going she would put herself in his way and try to speak to him. St. Anthony at first kept his eyes fixed on the ground, and took no notice of her; then he tried to make her desist by rebuking her, but she ceased not to follow him.

St. Anthony was a handsome young man, as you can always see in his portraits. As he went around preaching, there was a young woman named Sora Castitre who started to admire him a lot. Whenever she could figure out which way he was headed, she would position herself in his path and try to talk to him. At first, St. Anthony kept his gaze on the ground and ignored her; then he tried to discourage her by scolding her, but she continued to follow him.

Then he thought to himself, with all a saint’s compunction, ‘It is not she who is to blame, and who is worthy of rebuke, but I, who have been the occasion of sin to her. God grant that sin be not imputed to her through loving me.’

Then he thought to himself, with all a saint’s guilt, ‘It’s not her fault, and she doesn't deserve to be blamed, but I, who have caused her to sin. God help that she isn’t held responsible for her actions because of loving me.’

The next time she met him, it was in a deserted part of the Campagna.

The next time she saw him, it was in an empty area of the Campagna.

‘Brother Antonio, come along with me down this path. No one will see us there,’ said Sora Castitre.

‘Brother Antonio, come with me down this path. No one will see us there,’ said Sora Castitre.

Much to her surprise, instead of pursuing the severe tone he had always adopted towards her, St. Anthony greeted her and smiled with a smile which filled her with a joy different from anything she had known before. What was more, he seemed to follow her, and she led on.

Much to her surprise, instead of using the harsh tone he always had with her, St. Anthony greeted her and smiled in a way that filled her with a joy unlike anything she had experienced before. What’s more, he seemed to follow her, and she took the lead.

But as she went the way seemed quite changed. She knew well the retired path by which she had meant to lead him, but now everything around looked different; not one [217]landmark was the same. Yet ‘how could it be different?’ she said within herself; and she led on.

But as she walked, the path felt completely different. She knew the quiet route she had planned to take him on, but now everything around her looked unfamiliar; not one [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]landmark was the same. Yet she wondered, “How could it be different?” and she continued on.

What was her astonishment, when, instead of finding it terminate in a rocky gorge as she had found before, there rose before her presently an austere building surrounded with walls and gates!

What was her surprise when, instead of finding it end in a rocky gorge like she had before, an imposing building appeared before her, surrounded by walls and gates!

St. Anthony stepped forward as they reached the gate. A nun opened to them, and St. Anthony asked for the mother abbess. ‘I have brought you a maiden,’ he said, ‘whom I recommend to your affectionate and tender care.’ The mother abbess promised to make her her special charge, and St. Anthony went his way, first calling the maiden aside and charging her with this one petition he would have her make:

St. Anthony stepped forward as they reached the gate. A nun opened the door for them, and St. Anthony asked to see the mother abbess. "I have brought you a young woman," he said, "whom I trust you will take special care of." The mother abbess promised to look after her closely, and St. Anthony went on his way, first pulling the young woman aside and asking her to make this one request:

‘I have sinned; have mercy on me.’

'I have sinned; please have mercy on me.'

Then St. Anthony went back to his convent and called all the brethren together, and asked them all to pray very earnestly all through the night, and in the morning tell him what manifestation they had had.

Then St. Anthony returned to his convent and gathered all the brothers together, asking them to pray very sincerely throughout the night. In the morning, he asked them to share any revelations they had received.

The brethren promised to comply; and in the morning they all told him they had seen a little spark of light shining in the darkness.

The brothers agreed to follow through, and in the morning, they all told him they had seen a small glimmer of light shining in the darkness.

‘It suffices not, my brethren!’ said St. Anthony; ‘continue your charity and pray on instantly this night also.’

‘It’s not enough, my friends!’ said St. Anthony; ‘keep up your kindness and pray tonight too.’

The brethren promised compliance; and in the morning they all told him they had seen a pale streak of light stealing away towards heaven.

The brothers agreed to follow through; and in the morning, they all told him they had seen a pale streak of light moving up towards the sky.

‘It suffices not, my brethren!’ said St. Anthony; ‘of your charity pray on yet again this night also.’

‘That’s not enough, my friends!’ said St. Anthony; ‘Please continue to pray once more tonight as well.’

The brethren promised compliance; and in the morning they told him they had all seen a blaze of light, and in the midst of it a bed on which lay a most beautiful maiden, white2 as a lily, carried up to heaven, borne by four shining angels.

The brothers agreed to follow through; and in the morning, they told him they had all seen a bright light, and in the middle of it was a bed with a stunning maiden, as white as a lily, being taken up to heaven by four glowing angels.

‘It is well, my brethren!’ replied St. Anthony; ‘your prayers have rendered a soul to the celestial quires.’ [218]

‘It’s all good, my friends!’ St. Anthony replied; ‘your prayers have brought a soul to the heavenly choirs.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Afterwards he went to the convent where he had left Sora Castitre, and learnt from the mother abbess that, spending three penitential days saying only, ‘I have sinned; have mercy on me,’ she had rendered up her soul to God in simplicity and fervour.

After that, he went to the convent where he had left Sora Castitre and learned from the mother abbess that, after spending three days in penance saying only, ‘I have sinned; have mercy on me,’ she had surrendered her soul to God with simplicity and fervor.

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3

The legend of St. Anthony preaching to the fishes is well known from paintings, and I do not reproduce it because it was told me with no variation from the usual form. But another legend, which early pictures have rendered equally familiar, I received with an anachronistic addition which is worth putting down.

The story of St. Anthony preaching to the fish is well known from paintings, and I won't repeat it because I've heard it with no changes from the usual version. However, there's another legend, which early pictures have made just as familiar, that I received with a historical twist that’s worth noting.

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4

ST. ANTHONY AND THE HOLY CHILD.3

St. Anthony had been sent a long way off to preach;4 by the way fatigue overtook him, and he found hospitality for a few days in a monastery by the way. Later in the evening came a Protestant5 and asked hospitality, and he also was received, because you know there are many Protestants who are very good; and, besides that, if the man needed hospitality the monks would give it, whoever he might be.

St. Anthony had traveled far to preach;4 along the way he got tired and found a place to stay for a few days in a monastery. Later that evening, a Protestant5 arrived and requested a place to stay, and he was welcomed as well because, as you know, there are many good Protestants; plus, if someone needed a place to stay, the monks would offer it, no matter who they were.

The monks were all in their cells by an early hour in the evening, but the Protestant walked up and down the corridors smoking.

The monks were all in their cells by early evening, but the Protestant paced the corridors, smoking.

Suddenly through the cracks and the keyhole and all round the lintel of the door he saw a bright light issue where anon all was dark; it seemed as if the cell was on fire. ‘One of the good monks has set fire to his bedclothes!’ he said, and looked through the keyhole. What did he see? on the open book from which a father who was kneeling before it had been taking his meditations [219]stood a beautiful Child whom it filled you with love to look at, and from Whom shone a light too bright to bear.

Suddenly, through the cracks, the keyhole, and all around the doorframe, he saw a bright light where everything had been dark; it looked like the cell was on fire. “One of the good monks has set his bedclothes on fire!” he said, and looked through the keyhole. What did he see? On the open book that a father, kneeling in front of it, had been using for meditation, stood a beautiful Child who filled you with love just by looking at Him, and from Him shone a light too bright to endure. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Anxious to obtain a better view of the glorious sight the Protestant knocked at the door; St. Anthony, for it was he, called to him to come in; but instantly the vision vanished.

Anxious to get a better look at the amazing sight, the Protestant knocked on the door; St. Anthony, that was him, called for him to come in; but right away, the vision disappeared.

‘Who was that Child who was talking to you?’ asked the Protestant.

‘Who was that kid who was talking to you?’ asked the Protestant.

‘The Divine Infant!’ answered St. Anthony with the greatest simplicity.

‘The Divine Infant!’ replied St. Anthony with complete sincerity.

The next night the Protestant, curious to know if the Child would appear again, again walked up and down the corridor smoking, keeping his eye on the door of St. Anthony’s cell; nor was it long before the same sight met his eye, but this time he was led to prolong his converse with the saint. The next night there was the same prodigy, and that night they sat up all night talking.

The next night, the Protestant, eager to see if the Child would show up again, strolled up and down the corridor while smoking, keeping an eye on the door of St. Anthony’s cell. It didn't take long before the same sight caught his attention, but this time he felt encouraged to continue his conversation with the saint. The following night brought the same miracle, and they stayed up talking all night.

When morning came he told the father abbot he wished to make his adjuration and join the order, and he finally took the habit in that monastery.

When morning arrived, he informed the head monk that he wanted to make his commitment and join the order, and he eventually took on the robe in that monastery.

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5

They say there was once a poor man who had paid what he owed for his ground. You know the way is, that when a man has gathered in his harvest and turned a little money then he pays off what he owes. This man paid for his ground as soon as he had made something by his harvest, but the seller did not give him any receipt. Soon after the owner died, and his son came to ask for the money over again. ‘But I paid your father,’ said the poor man. ‘Then show your receipt,’ said the son. ‘But he didn’t give me one,’ answered the poor man. ‘Then you must pay me,’ insisted the new proprietor.

They say there was once a poor man who had paid what he owed for his land. You know how it is: when a man has gathered his harvest and made a little money, he pays off what he owes. This man paid for his land as soon as he made some money from his harvest, but the seller didn't give him any receipt. Shortly after, the owner died, and his son came to ask for the money again. "But I paid your father," said the poor man. "Then show me your receipt," said the son. "But he didn't give me one," replied the poor man. "Then you have to pay me," insisted the new owner.

‘What shall I do! what shall I do!’ exclaimed the poor man in despair. ‘St. Anthony, help me!’ He had [220]hardly said the words when he saw a friar6 coming towards him.

‘What am I going to do! What am I going to do!’ exclaimed the poor man in despair. ‘St. Anthony, help me!’ He had [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] barely finished speaking when he saw a friar6 approaching him.

‘What’s the matter, good man?’ said the friar, ‘that you are so distressed: tell me.’ And the poor man told him all the story of his distress.

‘What’s wrong, my good man?’ said the friar, ‘why are you so upset? Tell me.’ And the poor man shared the whole story of his troubles.

‘Shall I tell you how to get the receipt?’ asked the friar.

‘Do you want me to tell you how to get the receipt?’ asked the friar.

‘Indeed, indeed!’7 exclaimed the poor man, ‘that would be the making of me; but it’s more than you can do—the man is dead!’

‘Really, really!’7 exclaimed the poor man, ‘that would change everything for me; but it’s more than you can do—the man is dead!’

‘Never mind that. You do what I tell you,’ said the monk. ‘Go straight along that path;’ and the man saw that where he pointed was a path that had never been there before. ‘Follow that path,’ said the monk, ‘and you will come to a casino with great iron gates which shut and open of themselves continually. You must watch the moment when they are open and go boldly in. Inside you will see a big room and a man sitting at a table writing ceaselessly and casting accounts. That is your landlord; ask him for the receipt and he won’t dare withhold it now. But mind one thing. Don’t touch a single article in the room, whatever you do.’

‘Forget about that. Just do what I say,’ said the monk. ‘Go straight down that path;’ and the man noticed that the path he was pointing to had never existed before. ‘Follow that path,’ the monk continued, ‘and you’ll reach a casino with massive iron gates that open and close on their own all the time. You need to wait for the moment they are open and go in boldly. Inside, you’ll find a large room and a man sitting at a table, writing non-stop and doing calculations. That’s your landlord; ask him for the receipt and he won’t dare refuse you now. But remember one thing: Don’t touch a single item in the room, no matter what.’

The poor man went along the path, and found all as the monk had told him.

The poor man walked along the path and discovered everything just as the monk had said.

‘How did you get here?’ exclaimed the landlord, as soon as he recognised him; and the poor man told him how he had been sent and why he was come. The landlord sat at his desk writing with the greatest expedition, as if some one was whipping him on, and knitting his brows over his sums as if they were more than his brain could calculate; nevertheless, he took a piece of paper and wrote the receipt, and moreover he wrote two or three lines more on another piece of paper, which he bade him give to his son.

‘How did you get here?’ exclaimed the landlord as soon as he recognized him. The poor man explained how he had been sent and why he was there. The landlord sat at his desk writing quickly, as if he were being urged on, furrowing his brow over his calculations as if they were more than he could handle. Nevertheless, he took a piece of paper and wrote the receipt, and also wrote a few more lines on another piece of paper, which he told him to give to his son.

The poor man promised to deliver it, and turned to go; but as he went could not forbear putting his hand over the polished surface of a table he had to pass, unmindful of the charge the monk had given him not to [221]touch anything. His hand was no sooner in contact with the table than the whole skin was burnt off, and he understood that he was in Hell. With all expedition he watched the turn of the door opening, and hastened out.

The poor man promised to deliver it and turned to leave; but as he walked away, he couldn't help but run his hand across the smooth surface of a table he had to pass, forgetting the warning the monk had given him not to [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]touch anything. The moment his hand made contact with the table, the skin was completely burned off, and he realized he was in Hell. Quickly, he focused on the door as it opened and hurried out.

‘What have you got about your hand?’ asked St. Anthony when the man came back, for the friar was none other than St. Anthony.

‘What do you have on your hand?’ asked St. Anthony when the man returned, for the friar was none other than St. Anthony.

‘I touched one of the tables in that house,’ he answered, ‘forgetting what you told me, and burnt my hand so badly I had to dip this cloth in a river as I came by and tie it up. But I have the receipt, thanks to you.’ So St. Anthony touched his hand and healed it, and he saw him no more.

‘I touched one of the tables in that house,’ he said, ‘forgetting what you told me, and burned my hand so badly I had to dip this cloth in a river as I passed by and wrap it up. But I have the receipt, thanks to you.’ So St. Anthony touched his hand and healed it, and he never saw him again.

Then the man took the letter to the old lord’s son. ‘Why, this is my father’s writing!’ he exclaimed; ‘and my father is dead. How did you come by it?’ And he told him. And the letter said: ‘Behold, I am in Hell! But you, mend your ways; give money to the poor; compensate this man for the trouble he has had; and be just to all, lest you also come hither.’

Then the man took the letter to the old lord’s son. “Wow, this is my father’s handwriting!” he exclaimed. “And my father is dead. How did you get this?” The man explained. The letter said: “Look, I am in Hell! But you, change your ways; give money to the poor; make up for the trouble you’ve caused this man; and be fair to everyone, or you might end up here too.”

Then the old landlord’s son gave the man a large sum of money to compensate him for his anxieties, and sent him away consoled. [222]

Then the old landlord’s son gave the man a substantial amount of money to ease his worries and sent him away feeling reassured. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Sora’ in this place does not mean ‘sister’; it is an expression in Roman vernacular for which we have no equivalent, and is applied to respectable persons of the lower class who do not aspire to be called ‘Signora,’ ‘Mrs.,’ or ‘Miss,’ as with us. ‘Sor’ or ‘Ser’ is the masculine equivalent; we had it in use at p. 194. ↑

1 In this context, ‘Sora’ doesn’t mean ‘sister’; it’s a term from Roman slang that doesn’t have a direct equivalent in English. It’s used for respectable people from the lower class who don’t aim to be called ‘Signora,’ ‘Mrs.,’ or ‘Miss’ like we do. The masculine equivalent is ‘Sor’ or ‘Ser’; we used it on page 194. ↑

2 The word used was ‘candida,’ and not ‘bianca,’ as expressive of purest white. ↑

2 The term used was ‘candida,’ not ‘bianca,’ to represent the purest white. ↑

3 ‘Sant’ Antonio ed il Santo Bambino.’ ↑

3 ‘Saint Anthony and the Holy Child.’ ↑

4 I believe St. Anthony was never in Rome; but his genial winning character made him so popular that the people speak of him as one of themselves. ↑

4 I think St. Anthony was never in Rome; but his friendly and charming personality made him so popular that people consider him one of their own. ↑

5 St. Anthony’s date is 1195–1231; so the idea of making his observer a Protestant, and a smoker to boot, is very quaint, and is an instance of how chronological order gets confused by tradition. ↑

5 St. Anthony lived from 1195 to 1231; so the notion of portraying him as a Protestant and a smoker is quite amusing and shows how tradition can muddle chronological accuracy. ↑

6 ‘Fraticello’; ‘good little friar.’ An affectionate way of speaking of Franciscans often used. ↑

6 ‘Fraticello’; ‘good little friar.’ A friendly term for Franciscans that is commonly used. ↑

7 ‘Magàri!’ a very strong form of ‘indeed.’ ↑

7 ‘Magàri!’ a very strong way of saying ‘for sure.’ ↑

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ST. MARGARET OF CORTONA.

St. Margaret wasn’t always a saint, you must know: in her youth she was very much the reverse. She had a very cruel stepmother, who worried her to death,1 and gave her work she was unequal to do.

St. Margaret wasn't always a saint, you should know: in her early years, she was quite the opposite. She had a very harsh stepmother, who tormented her relentlessly, and made her do work she was incapable of handling.

One day her stepmother had sent her out to tie up bundles of hay. As she was so engaged a Count came by, and he stopped to look at her, for she was rarely beautiful.2

One day her stepmother sent her out to tie bundles of hay. While she was doing this, a Count passed by and stopped to look at her because she was exceptionally beautiful. 2

‘What hard work for such pretty little hands,’ he began by saying; and after many tender words had been exchanged he proposed that she should go home with him, where her life would be the reverse of the suffering existence she had now to endure.

‘What hard work for such pretty little hands,’ he started off by saying; and after sharing many kind words, he suggested that she come home with him, where her life would be the complete opposite of the difficult existence she was currently enduring.

Margaret consented at once, for her stepmother, besides working her hard, had neglected to form her to proper sentiments of virtue.

Margaret agreed right away because her stepmother, in addition to making her work hard, had failed to instill proper values of virtue in her.

The count took her to his villa at a place called Monte Porciana, a good way from Cortona. Here her life was indeed a contrast to what it had been at home at Cortona. Instead of having to work, she had plenty of servants to wait upon her; her dress and her food were all in the greatest luxury, and she was supplied with everything she wished for. Sometimes as she went to the theatre, decked out in her gay attire, and knowing that she was a scandal to all, she would say in mirth and wantonness, ‘Who knows whether one day I may not be stuck up there on high in the churches, like some of those saints? As strange things have happened ere now!’ But she only said it in wantonness. So she went on enjoying life, and when their son was born there was nothing more she desired.

The count took her to his villa in a place called Monte Porciana, which was quite a distance from Cortona. Here, her life was a complete contrast to what it had been back home in Cortona. Instead of having to work, she had plenty of staff to attend to her; her clothing and meals were all in great luxury, and she was given everything she wanted. Sometimes, as she went to the theater, dressed in her vibrant outfits and aware that she was a scandal to everyone, she would jokingly say, "Who knows, maybe one day I'll end up up there in the churches, like some of those saints? Strange things have happened before!" But she only said it for fun. So she continued to enjoy life, and when their son was born, there was nothing more she could ask for.

In the midst of this gay existence, word was brought her one evening that the Count, who had gone out that morning full of health and spirits to the hunt, had been [223]overtaken and assassinated, and as all had been afraid to pursue the murderers, they knew not where his body was.

In the middle of this cheerful life, she heard one evening that the Count, who had left that morning full of health and energy for the hunt, had been [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] ambushed and killed, and since everyone was too scared to chase after the murderers, they had no idea where his body was.

Margaret was thrown into a frenzy3 at the news; her fine clothing and her rich fare gave her little pleasure now. All amusement and frivolity were put out of sight; and she sat on her sofa and stared before her, for she had no heart to turn to anything that could distract her thoughts from her great loss. Then one day—it might have been three days after—a favourite dog belonging to the count came limping and whining up to her. Margaret rose immediately; she knew that the dog would take her to the count’s body, and she rose up and motioned to him to go: and the dog, all glad to return to his master, ran on before. All the household were too much afraid of the assassins to venture in their way, so Margaret went forth alone. It was a long rough way; but the dog ran on, and Margaret kept on as well as her broken strength would admit. At last they came to a brake where the dog stopped, and now whined no longer but howled piteously.

Margaret was thrown into a frenzy at the news; her fine clothes and rich meals brought her no joy now. All enjoyment and frivolity were pushed aside, and she sat on her couch staring into space, as she had no heart to engage in anything that could distract her from her immense loss. Then one day—it might have been three days later—a beloved dog belonging to the count limped and whined its way to her. Margaret immediately stood up; she knew the dog would lead her to the count’s body, so she got up and waved for him to go ahead. The dog, eager to return to its master, ran on ahead. Everyone in the household was too scared of the assassins to venture that way, so Margaret went out alone. It was a long, rough path; but the dog kept going, and Margaret followed as best as her weakened strength would allow. Eventually, they reached a thicket where the dog stopped and no longer whined but howled mournfully.

Margaret knew that they had reached the object of their search, and it was indeed here the assassins had hidden the body. Moving away with her own hands the leaves and branches with which they had covered it over, the fearful sight of her lover’s mangled body lay before her. The condition into which the wounds and the lapse of time had brought it was more than she could bear to look at, and she swooned away on the spot.

Margaret realized they had found what they were looking for, and it was indeed where the killers had concealed the body. As she pushed aside the leaves and branches that had been used to cover it, the horrifying sight of her lover’s mutilated body lay before her. The state of the wounds and the effects of time were too much for her to handle, and she fainted on the spot.

When she came to herself all the course of her thoughts was changed. She saw what her life had been; the sense of the scandal she had given was more to her even than her own distracting grief. As the most terrible penance she could think of, she resolved to go back to her stepmother and endure her hard treatment, sharpened by the invectives with which she knew it would now be seasoned. [224]

When she regained her senses, her entire perspective shifted. She reflected on her past and realized that the shame she had caused affected her even more than her own overwhelming sorrow. As the worst punishment she could imagine, she decided to return to her stepmother and endure her harsh treatment, knowing it would be even more biting after everything that had happened. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Taking with her her son, she went to her, therefore, and with the greatest submission of manner entreated to be readmitted. But not even this would the stepmother grant her, but drove her away from the door. She then turned to her father, but he was bound to say the same as his wife. She now saw there was one misery worse than harsh treatment, and that was penury—starvation, not only for herself, but her child.

Taking her son with her, she went to see her and, with the utmost humility, asked to be let back in. But the stepmother wouldn’t allow it and sent her away from the door. She then turned to her father, but he had to agree with his wife. She realized then that there was one misery worse than cruel treatment, and that was poverty—starvation, not just for herself, but for her child.

Little she cared what became of her, but for the child something must be done. What did she do? She went and put on a sackcloth dress,4 tied about the waist with a rope, and she went to the church at the high mass time; and when mass was over she stood on the altar step, and told all the people she was Margaret of Cortona, who had given so much scandal, and now was come to show her contrition for it.

Little she cared what happened to her, but something had to be done for the child. What did she do? She put on a sackcloth dress, tied around the waist with a rope, and went to the church during the high mass; when mass was over, she stood on the altar step and told everyone she was Margaret of Cortona, who had caused so much scandal, and now had come to show her regret for it.

Her sufferings had gone up before God. As she spoke her confession so humbly before all the people, the count’s mother rose from her seat, and, coming up to her, threw her handkerchief over her head5—for she was bareheaded—and led her away to her home.

Her pain had been laid bare before God. As she confessed so humbly in front of everyone, the count’s mother stood up from her seat, approached her, draped her handkerchief over her head5—since she was not wearing a hat—and took her home.

She would only accept her hospitality on condition of being allowed to live in a little room apart, with no more furniture than a nun’s cell. Here she lived twelve years of penance, till her boy was old enough to choose his state in life. He elected to be a Dominican, and afterwards became a Preacher of the Apostolic Palace; and she entered a Franciscan convent, where she spent ten more years of penance, till God took her to Himself.

She would only accept her hospitality on the condition that she could live in a small room alone, with just as much furniture as a nun’s cell. She lived there for twelve years of penance until her son was old enough to decide on his path in life. He chose to become a Dominican and later became a Preacher of the Apostolic Palace. She then entered a Franciscan convent, where she spent another ten years of penance until God took her to Himself.

She cut off all her long hair when she went to live in her cell at the house of the count’s mother, that she might not again be an occasion of sin to anyone. And after that, when she found she was still a subject of human admiration, she cut off her lips, that no one might admire her again.6 [225]

She chopped off all her long hair when she moved into her cell at the count’s mother’s house, so she wouldn’t be a temptation to anyone again. And after that, when she realized she was still admired by others, she cut off her lips, so no one could admire her ever again.6 [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘La strapazzava,’ a word particularly applied to overworking a horse. ↑

1 'She was overworking her,’ a term especially used for exhausting a horse. ↑

2 ‘Di una rara bellezza.’ ↑

2 'Of rare beauty.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

3 ‘Era disperata.’ ↑

3 'Desperate times.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4 ‘Un sacco crudo,’ a loose garment made of harsh sackcloth that had not been dressed. ↑

4 ‘A lot of raw,’ a loose piece of clothing made of rough, untreated sackcloth. ↑

5 Handkerchiefs are used so habitually for tying up parcels in Rome, that the narrator thought it worth while to specify that this one was a ‘fazzaletto di naso.’ ↑

5 Handkerchiefs are so commonly used for wrapping packages in Rome that the narrator thought it was important to mention that this one was a 'nose cloth.' ↑

6 The life is thus given in Butler:—‘Margaret was a native of Alviano in Tuscany. The harshness of a stepmother and her own indulged propension to vice cast her headlong into the greatest disorders. The sight of the carcase of a man, half-putrefied, who had been her gallant, struck her with so great a fear of the Divine judgments, and with so deep a sense of the treachery of the world, that she in a moment became a perfect penitent. The first thing she did was to throw herself at her father’s feet, bathed in tears, to beg his pardon for her contempt of his authority and fatherly admonitions. She spent the days and nights in tears; and to repair the scandal she had given by her crimes, she went to the parish church of Alviano with a rope about her neck, and there asked public pardon for them. After this she repaired to Cortona and made her most penitent confession to a father of the Order of S. Francis, who admired the great sentiments of compunction with which she was filled, and prescribed her austerities and practices suitable to her fervour. Her conversion happened in the year 1274, the twenty-fifth of her age.... This model of true penitents, after twenty-three years spent in severe penance, twenty of them in the religious habit, being worn out by austerities and consumed by the fire of divine love, died on the 22nd of February 1297.’ ↑

6 The life is thus given in Butler:—‘Margaret was from Alviano in Tuscany. The cruelty of her stepmother and her own tendency to vice threw her into chaos. The sight of a half-decomposed body of a man who had been her lover filled her with such fear of Divine judgment and such a deep realization of the world's betrayal that she instantly became a true penitent. The first thing she did was to fall to her father's feet, crying, and beg for his forgiveness for disregarding his authority and fatherly advice. She spent her days and nights in tears; and to make amends for the scandal her sins had caused, she went to the parish church of Alviano with a rope around her neck and publicly asked for forgiveness. After this, she went to Cortona and made her sincere confession to a Franciscan priest, who was impressed by her profound sense of remorse and suggested suitable penances and practices for her ardor. Her conversion took place in 1274 when she was twenty-five years old.... This example of true penitence, after twenty-three years of rigorous penance, twenty of them in religious attire, worn out by her austerities and consumed by divine love, died on the 22nd of February 1297.’ ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

ST. THEODORA.

When Santa Teodora was young she was married, and lived very happily with her husband, for they were both very fond of each other.

When Santa Teodora was young, she got married and lived very happily with her husband, as they both cared deeply for each other.

But there was a count who saw her and fell in love with her, and tried his utmost to get an opportunity of telling her his affection, but she was so prudent that he could not approach her. So what did he do? he went to a bad old woman1 and told her that he would give her ever so much money if she would get him the opportunity of meeting her. The old wretch accepted [226]the commission willingly, and put all her bad arts in requisition to make Theodora forget her duty. For a long time Theodora refused to listen to her and sent her away, but she went on finding excuses to come to her, and again and again urged her persuasions and excited her curiosity so that finally she consented that he might just come and see her, and the witch woman assured her that was all he asked. But what he wanted was the opportunity of speaking his own story into her ear, and when that was given him he pushed his suit so successfully that it wasn’t only once he came, but many times.

But there was a count who saw her and fell in love with her, and tried his best to get a chance to tell her how he felt, but she was so careful that he couldn’t get close to her. So what did he do? He went to a nasty old woman and told her he would pay her a lot of money if she could help him get a chance to meet her. The old hag accepted the deal gladly and used all her tricks to make Theodora forget her responsibilities. For a long time, Theodora refused to listen to her and sent her away, but the old woman kept coming up with excuses to visit her, repeatedly pushing her to reconsider and stirring her curiosity until finally, she agreed to let him come and see her, with the witch assuring her that was all he wanted. But what he really wanted was the chance to whisper his feelings in her ear, and when he got that opportunity, he pursued her so successfully that it wasn’t just once he came, but many times.

Yet it was not a very long time before a day came when Theodora saw how wrong she had been, and then, seized with compunction, she determined to go away and hide herself where she would never be heard of more. Before her husband came home she cut off all her hair, and putting on a coarse dress she went to a Capuchin monastery and asked admission.

Yet it wasn't long before a day came when Theodora realized how wrong she had been, and then, filled with remorse, she decided to leave and hide herself away where no one would ever find her. Before her husband got home, she cut off all her hair, and putting on a rough dress, she went to a Capuchin monastery and requested to be admitted.

‘What is your name?’ asked the Superior.

‘What’s your name?’ asked the Superior.

‘Theodore,’ she replied.

‘Theodore,’ she replied.

‘You seem too young for our severe rule,’ he continued; ‘you seem a mere boy;’ but she expressed such sincere sentiments of contrition as showed him she was worthy to embrace their life of penance.

‘You seem too young for our strict rules,’ he continued; ‘you seem like just a boy;’ but she expressed such genuine feelings of remorse that showed him she was deserving of joining their life of penance.

The Devil was very much vexed to see what a perfect penitent she made, and he stirred up the other monks to suspect her of all manner of things; but they could find no fault against her, nor did they ever suspect that she was a woman.

The Devil was really annoyed to see what a perfect penitent she had become, and he stirred up the other monks to suspect her of all sorts of things; but they couldn't find any fault with her, nor did they ever suspect that she was a woman.

One day when she was sent with another brother to beg for the convent a storm overtook them in a wood, and they were obliged to seek the shelter of a cottage there was on the borders of the wood where they were belated. ‘There is room in the stable for one of you,’ said the peasant who lived there; ‘but that other one who looks so young and so delicate’ (he meant Theodora) ‘must sleep [227]indoors, and the only place is the loft where my daughter sleeps; but it can’t be helped.’ Theodora, therefore, slept in the loft and the monk in the stable, and in the morning when the weather was fair they went back to their convent. Months passed away, and the incident was almost forgotten, when one day the peasant came to the monastery and rang the bell in a great fury, and he laid down at the entrance a bundle in which was a baby. ‘That young monk of yours is the father of this child,’ he said, ‘and you ought to turn him out of the convent.’ Then the Superior sent for ‘Theodore,’ and repeated what the peasant had said.

One day, when she was sent with another brother to ask for alms for the convent, a storm caught them in a wood, and they had to seek shelter in a cottage on the edge of the woods where they got delayed. “There’s room in the stable for one of you,” said the peasant who lived there. “But that other one who looks so young and delicate” (he meant Theodora) “must sleep [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]indoors, and the only place is the loft where my daughter sleeps; but it can’t be helped.” Theodora then slept in the loft while the monk stayed in the stable, and in the morning, when the weather cleared, they went back to their convent. Months went by, and the incident was nearly forgotten when one day the peasant came to the monastery, ringing the bell in a rage, and laid down a bundle at the entrance that contained a baby. “That young monk of yours is the father of this child,” he said, “and you should expel him from the convent.” Then the Superior called for ‘Theodore’ and repeated what the peasant had said.

‘Surely God has sent me this new penance because the life I lead here is not severe enough,’ she said. ‘He has sent me this further punishment that all the community should think me guilty.’ Therefore she would not justify herself, but accepted the accusation and took the baby and went away. Her only way of living now was to get a night’s lodging how she could, and come every day to the convent gate with the child and live on the dole that was distributed there to the poor. What a life for her who had been brought up delicately in her own palace!

‘God must have given me this new penance because the life I lead here isn’t harsh enough,’ she said. ‘He has sent me this additional punishment so that everyone in the community thinks I’m guilty.’ So she wouldn’t defend herself; instead, she accepted the accusation, took the baby, and left. Her only option now was to find a place to sleep at night however she could and come to the convent gate every day with the child to rely on the charity distributed there to the poor. What a life for someone who had been raised in comfort in her own palace!

She was not allowed to rest, however, even so, for people took offence because she was permitted to remain so near the monastery, and the monks had to send her away. So she went to seek the shelter of a wood, and to labour to find the means of living for herself and the child in the roots and herbs she could pick up. But one of the monks one day found her there, and saw her so emaciated that he told the Superior, and he let her come back to receive the dole.

She wasn't allowed to rest, though, because people got upset that she was allowed to stay so close to the monastery, so the monks had to send her away. She went into the woods to find shelter and try to gather food for herself and the child from the roots and herbs she could collect. But one day, a monk found her there and saw that she was so thin that he told the Superior, who permitted her to come back and receive help.

At last she died, and when they came to bury her they found she had in one hand a written paper so tightly clasped that no one had the strength to unclose it; and there she lay on her bier in the church looking so sad and [228]worn, yet as sweetly fair as she had looked in life, and with the written paper tightly grasped in her closed hand.

At last she died, and when they came to bury her they found she had a piece of paper tightly held in one hand that no one could open; and there she lay on her bier in the church looking so sad and worn, yet still as beautifully fair as she had looked in life, with the piece of paper firmly grasped in her closed hand.

Now when her husband found that she had left his palace the night she went away he left no means untried to discover where she was; and when he had made inquiries and sent everywhere, and could learn no tidings whatever, he put on pilgrim’s weeds and went out to seek for her everywhere himself.

Now when her husband realized that she had left his palace the night she disappeared, he tried everything he could to find out where she was. After making inquiries and searching everywhere without any leads, he put on a pilgrim's attire and went out to search for her himself.

It so happened that he came into the city where she died just as she was thus laid on her bier in the church. In spite of her male attire he knew her; in the midst of his grief he noticed the written paper she held. To his touch her hand opened instantly, and in the scroll was found recorded all she had done and all she had suffered.

It just so happened that he arrived in the city where she had died right as she was being laid on her bier in the church. Despite her male clothing, he recognized her; in the midst of his sorrow, he noticed the paper she was holding. To his touch, her hand opened immediately, revealing a scroll that recorded everything she had done and all she had endured.

1 ‘Vecchiaccia’; the addition accia implies that she was bad: probably a witch was intended. ↑

1 ‘Old hag’; the suffix accia suggests that she was mean: likely a witch was meant. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

NUN BEATRICE.1

Nun Beatrice had not altogether the true spirit of a religious: she was somewhat given to vanity;2 though but for this she was a good nun, and full of excellent dispositions. She held the office of portress;3 and, as she determined to go away out of her convent and return into the world, this seemed to afford her a favourable opportunity for carrying out her design. Accordingly, one day when the house was very quiet, and there seemed no danger of being observed, having previously contrived to secrete some secular clothes such as passed through her hands to keep in store for giving to the poor, she let herself out and went away.

Nun Beatrice didn’t fully embody the true spirit of a nun; she had a tendency toward vanity. Still, aside from that, she was a good nun with many admirable qualities. She was the portress, and since she had decided to leave her convent and return to the outside world, this seemed like a perfect chance to carry out her plan. So, one day when the convent was very quiet and there was little chance of being noticed, she had already secretly stashed away some secular clothes that she had come across while gathering items for the poor. She slipped out and left.

In the parlour was a kneeling-desk with a picture of Our Lady hanging over it, where she had been wont to kneel and hold converse with Our Lady in prayer whenever she had a moment to spare. On this desk she laid [229]the keys before she went, thinking it was a safe place for the Superior to find them; and she commended them to the care of Our Lady, whose picture hung above, and said, ‘Keep thou the keys, and let no harm come to this good house and my dear sisters.’

In the parlor was a kneeling desk with a picture of Our Lady hanging above it, where she would kneel and talk to Our Lady in prayer whenever she had a moment to spare. On this desk she placed [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]the keys before she left, thinking it was a safe spot for the Superior to find them; she entrusted them to the care of Our Lady, whose picture hung above, and said, ‘Please keep the keys safe and let no harm come to this good house and my dear sisters.’

As she said the words Our Lady looked at her with a glance of reproach, enough to have melted her heart and made her return to a better mood had she seen it; but she was too full of her own thoughts and the excitement of her undertaking to notice anything. No sooner was she gone out, however, than Our Lady, walking out of the canvas, assumed the dress that she had laid aside, and, tying the keys to her girdle, assumed the office of portress.

As she spoke, Our Lady looked at her with a disapproving gaze that could have softened her heart and brought her back to a better mood if only she had noticed it. But she was too wrapped up in her own thoughts and the thrill of her mission to pay attention. As soon as she left, Our Lady stepped out of the canvas, put on the dress she had set aside, and tied the keys to her waist, taking on the role of the doorkeeper.

With the habit of the portress Our Lady also assumed her semblance; so that no one noticed the exchange, except that all remarked how humble, how modest, how edifying Beatrice had become.

With the habit of the portress, Our Lady also took on her appearance; so no one noticed the change, except that everyone commented on how humble, how modest, and how inspiring Beatrice had become.

After a time the nuns began to say it was a pity so perfect a nun should be left in so subordinate a position, and they made her therefore Mistress of the Novices. This office she exercised with as great perfection, according to its requirements, as she had the other; and so sweetly did she train the young nuns entrusted to her direction that all the novices became saints.

After a while, the nuns started saying it was a shame for such a perfect nun to be stuck in such a low position, so they made her Mistress of the Novices. She performed this role with the same level of excellence as she had with the other, and she trained the young nuns she was responsible for so gently that all the novices became saints.

Beatrice meantime had gone to live in the world as a secular; and though she often repented of what she had done, she had not the courage to go back and tell all. She prayed for courage, but she went on delaying. While she was in this mind it so happened one day that the factor4 of the convent came to the house where she was living. What strange and moving memories of her peaceful home filled her mind as she saw his well-known form, though he did not recognise her in her secular dress! What an opportunity too, she thought, to learn what was the feeling of the community towards her, and what had been said of her escape! [230]

Beatrice had meanwhile chosen to live in the world as a layperson; and although she often regretted her decision, she didn’t have the courage to go back and confess everything. She prayed for strength, but kept putting it off. While she was in this state of mind, one day the representative of the convent came to the house where she was living. What strange and powerful memories of her peaceful home flooded her mind as she saw his familiar figure, even though he didn’t recognize her in her everyday clothes! What a chance this was, she thought, to find out how the community felt about her and what had been said about her leaving! [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘I hope all your nuns are well,’ she said. ‘I used to live in their neighbourhood once, and there was one of them I used to know, Suora5 Beatrice. How is she now?’

‘I hope all your nuns are doing well,’ she said. ‘I used to live in their neighborhood once, and there was one of them I used to know, Sister Beatrice. How is she doing now?’

‘Sister Beatrice!’ said the factor. ‘She is the model of perfection, the example of the whole house. Everybody is ready to worship her. With all respect to the Church, which never canonizes the living, no one doubts she is a saint indeed.’

‘Sister Beatrice!’ said the factor. ‘She is the epitome of perfection, the role model for the entire house. Everyone is eager to admire her. With all due respect to the Church, which never canonizes the living, no one doubts that she is truly a saint.’

‘It cannot be the same,’ answered Beatrice. ‘The one I knew was anything but a saint, though I loved her well, and should like to have news of her.’ And she hardly knew how to conceal the astonishment with which she was seized at hearing him speak thus; for the event on which she expected him to enlarge at once was the extraordinary fact of her escape. But he pursued in the same quiet way as before. ‘Oh yes, it must be the same. There has never been but one of the name since I have known the convent. She was portress some time ago; but latterly she has been made Mistress of the Novices.’

‘It can’t be the same,’ Beatrice replied. ‘The one I knew was far from a saint, though I loved her dearly and would like to hear news about her.’ She hardly knew how to hide her shock at his words; she expected him to elaborate on her incredible escape. But he continued in the same calm manner as before. ‘Oh yes, it has to be the same person. There has only been one with that name since I've been at the convent. She used to be the portress, but recently she has been made Mistress of the Novices.’

There was nothing more to be learnt from him; so she pursued her inquiries no further. But he had no sooner had start enough to put him at a safe distance, than she set out to go to the convent and see this Sister Beatrice who so strangely represented her.

There was nothing more to learn from him, so she didn’t press her questions any further. But as soon as he had enough space to feel safe, she headed to the convent to see this Sister Beatrice who resembled her in such a strange way.

Arrived at the convent door, she asked to see Sister Beatrice, and in a very few minutes the Mistress of the Novices entered the parlour.

Arrived at the convent door, she asked to see Sister Beatrice, and within a few minutes, the Mistress of the Novices entered the parlor.

The presence of the new Mistress of the Novices filled Beatrice with an awe she could not account for; and, without waiting to ask herself why, she fell on her knees before her.

The presence of the new Mistress of the Novices filled Beatrice with a sense of awe she couldn't explain; and, without stopping to question why, she kneeled before her.

‘It is well you have come back, my child,’ said Our Lady; ‘resume your dress, which I have worn for you; go in to the convent again, and do penance, and keep up the good name I have earned for you.’

‘It’s good that you've come back, my child,’ said Our Lady; ‘put on your dress, which I wore for you; go back to the convent, do your penance, and maintain the good name I’ve earned for you.’

With that Our Lady returned to the canvas; Beatrice [231]resumed her habit, and strove so earnestly to form herself by the model of perfection Our Lady had set while wearing it, that in a few months she became a saint.

With that, Our Lady went back to the canvas; Beatrice [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]got back into her routine and worked so hard to shape herself after the ideal of perfection that Our Lady had displayed while wearing it, that in a few months she became a saint.

[Mr. Ralston gives a Russian story (pp. 249–50), in which St. Nicholas comes in person and serves a man who has been devout to his picture.]

[Mr. Ralston shares a Russian story (pp. 249–50), where St. Nicholas appears in person and helps a man who has been devoted to his image.]

1 ‘La Monica Beatrice.’ ‘Monica,’ provincialism or vulgarism for ‘monaca,’ a nun. ↑

1 ‘La Monica Beatrice.’ ‘Monica,’ a local or informal term for ‘monaca,’ meaning a nun. ↑

2 ‘Albagia,’ self-esteem, vanity. ↑

2 ‘Albagia,’ self-worth, arrogance. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

3 ‘Rotara,’ equivalent to portress; it alludes to her having charge of the ‘ruota,’ or ‘turniquet,’ through which things are passed in and out and messages conveyed through a convent-wall, without the nun having to present herself at the door. ↑

3 ‘Rotara,’ meaning portress; it refers to her role in managing the ‘ruota,’ or ‘turnstile,’ that allows items and messages to move in and out, so the nun doesn’t have to appear at the door. ↑

4 ‘Fattore,’ an agent employed by most convents to attend to their secular affairs. ↑

4 ‘Fattore,’ an agent used by most convents to handle their worldly affairs. ↑

5 ‘Suora’ is the received word for a ‘Sister’ in a convent. ‘Sister,’ the natural relationship, is ‘Sorella.’ ↑

5 ‘Suora’ is the accepted term for a ‘Sister’ in a convent. ‘Sister,’ the common relational term, is ‘Sorella.’ ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

PADRE FILIPPO.

[St. Philip Neri is a giant indeed in the household memories of the Roman poor. His acts have become travestied and magnified among them in the most portentous way, and they always talk of him with the most patriotic enthusiasm. ‘He was a Roman!—a Roman indeed!’ they will say. And yet he was not a born Roman, but was made ‘Protector of Rome’ by the Church.

[St. Philip Neri is truly a legend in the memories of the Roman poor. His deeds have been exaggerated and transformed among them in the most remarkable way, and they speak of him with great pride. ‘He was a Roman!—a true Roman!’ they will say. And yet, he wasn’t born a Roman; he was named ‘Protector of Rome’ by the Church.]

‘Padre Filippo’ is their favourite way of naming him, and sometimes ‘il buon Filippo’ and ‘Pippo buono.’]

‘Padre Filippo’ is their favorite way of naming him, and sometimes ‘the good Philip’ and ‘Pippo good.’

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1

There was in Padre Filippo’s time a cardinal who was Prefect of the provisions,1 who let everything go wrong and attended to nothing, and the poor were all suffering because provisions got so dear. [232]

There was a cardinal during Padre Filippo’s time who was in charge of supplies, 1, who let everything fall apart and didn’t care about anything, causing the poor to suffer because the cost of supplies rose so high. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Padre Filippo went to the Pope—Papa Medici2 it was—and told him how badly off the poor were; so the Pope called the Cardinal to account, and went on making him attend to it till Padre Filippo told him that things were on a better footing.

Padre Filippo went to the Pope—Papa Medici2 it was—and told him how badly off the poor were; so the Pope held the Cardinal accountable and kept pushing him to address it until Padre Filippo informed him that things had improved.

But the Cardinal came to Padre Filippo and said:

But the Cardinal approached Padre Filippo and said:

‘Why do you vex me by going and making mischief to the Pope?’

‘Why do you annoy me by going and causing trouble for the Pope?’

But Padre Filippo, instead of being frightened at his anger, rose up and said:

But Padre Filippo, instead of being scared by his anger, stood up and said:

‘Come here and I will show you what is the fate of those who oppress and neglect the poor. Come here Eminentissimo, and look,’ and he took him to the window and asked him what he saw.

‘Come here and I’ll show you what happens to those who oppress and neglect the poor. Come here, Eminentissimo, and look,’ and he led him to the window and asked him what he saw.

The Cardinal looked, and he saw a great fire of Hell, and the souls writhing in it. The Cardinal said no more and went away, but not long after he gave up being a cardinal and became a simple brother under Padre Filippo.

The Cardinal looked and saw a huge fire in Hell, with souls writhing in it. The Cardinal didn’t say anything else and left, but shortly after, he gave up being a cardinal and became a simple brother under Padre Filippo.

[Who this cardinal may have been I do not know, but the story was told me another time in this form:—]

[Who this cardinal might have been, I don't know, but I was told the story another time like this:]

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1A

There was a cardinal—Gastaldi was his name—who went a good deal into society to the neglect of more important duties. One evening, when he was at a conversazione, Padre Filippo came to the house where he was and had him called out to him in an empty room.

There was a cardinal—his name was Gastaldi—who spent a lot of time socializing at the expense of his more important responsibilities. One evening, while he was at a gathering, Padre Filippo arrived at the house where he was and had him summoned to an empty room.

‘Your Eminence! come to this window, I have something to show you.’

‘Your Eminence! Come to this window, I have something to show you.’

The Cardinal came to the window and looked out, and instead of the houses he saw Hell opened and all the souls3 in the flames; a great serpent was wriggling in and out among them and biting them, and in the midst was a gilt cardinalitial chair.

The Cardinal approached the window and looked outside, and instead of the buildings, he saw Hell laid bare with all the souls3 in the flames; a massive serpent was slithering in and out among them, biting them, and in the center was a gilded cardinal's chair.

‘Who is that seat for?’ inquired the Cardinal. [233]

‘Who is that seat for?’ asked the Cardinal. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘It is placed there for your Eminence,’ replied St. Philip.

‘It's placed there for you, Your Eminence,’ replied St. Philip.

‘What must I do to escape it?’ exclaimed the Cardinal, horrified and self-convicted.

‘What do I need to do to get away from it?’ the Cardinal exclaimed, horrified and feeling guilty.

Padre Filippo read him a lecture on penitence and amendment of life, and for the practical part of his advice warned him to devote to good works moneys he had been too fond of heaping up. The Cardinal after this became very devout, and the poor were great gainers by St. Philip’s instructions to him, and the two churches you see at the end of the Corso and Babbuino in Piazza del Popolo were also built by him with the money Padre Filippo had warned him to spend aright, and you may see his arms up there any day for yourself.4

Padre Filippo gave him a talk about repentance and changing his ways, and for the practical advice, he told him to use the money he had been too eager to pile up for good deeds. After this, the Cardinal became very devoted, and the poor benefited greatly from St. Philip’s guidance to him. The two churches you see at the end of the Corso and Babbuino in Piazza del Popolo were also built by him with the money that Padre Filippo encouraged him to spend wisely, and you can see his coat of arms up there any day for yourself.4

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2

Some of their stories of him are jocose. There was a young married lady who was a friend of the Order, and had done it much good. She was very much afraid of the idea of her confinement as the time approached and said she could never endure it. Padre Filippo knew how good she was and felt great compassion for her.

Some of their stories about him are humorous. There was a young married woman who was a friend of the Order and had done a lot for them. She was really nervous about the idea of childbirth as the time got closer and said she could never handle it. Padre Filippo knew how kind she was and felt a lot of compassion for her.

‘Never mind, my child,’ said the ‘good Philip’; ‘I will take all your pain on myself.’

‘Don't worry, my child,’ said the ‘good Philip’; ‘I will take all your pain on myself.’

Time passed away, and one night the community was very much surprised to hear ‘good Philip’ raving and shouting with pain; he who voluntarily submitted to every penance without a word, and whom they had often seen so patient in illness. That same night the lady’s child was born and she felt no pain at all.

Time went by, and one night the community was really surprised to hear 'good Philip' shouting and raving in pain; the same Philip who had willingly accepted every punishment without a word, and whom they had often seen so patient while sick. That same night, the lady’s child was born and she felt no pain at all.

Early next morning she sent to tell him that her child was born, and to ask how he was.

Early the next morning, she sent a message to let him know that her baby was born and to ask how he was doing.

‘Tell her I am getting a little better now,’ said ‘good Philip,’ ‘but I never suffered anything like it before. Next time, mind, she must manage her affairs for herself. For never will I interfere5 with anything of that sort again.’ [234]

‘Tell her I'm feeling a bit better now,’ said ‘good Philip,’ ‘but I’ve never experienced anything like it before. Next time, she needs to handle her own affairs. I’ll never interfere with anything like that again.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

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3

Another who had no child was very anxious to have one, and came to Padre Filippo to ask him to pray for her that she might have one. Padre Filippo promised to pray for her; but instead of a child there was only a shapeless thing. She sent for Padre Filippo once more, therefore, and said:

Another woman who had no child was very eager to have one, so she went to Padre Filippo to ask him to pray for her. Padre Filippo promised to pray for her; but instead of a child, there was only a formless thing. She called for Padre Filippo again and said:

‘There! that’s all your prayers have brought!’

‘There! That’s everything your prayers have accomplished!’

‘Oh never mind!’ said Padre Filippo; and he took it and shaped it (the narrator twisted up a large towel and showed how he formed first one leg then the other, then the arms, then the head, as if she had seen him do it). Then he knelt down by the side and prayed while he told them to keep silence, and it opened its eyes and cried, and the mother was content.

‘Oh, never mind!’ said Padre Filippo; and he took it and shaped it (the narrator twisted up a large towel and showed how he formed first one leg then the other, then the arms, then the head, as if she had seen him do it). Then he knelt down by the side and prayed while telling them to stay quiet, and it opened its eyes and cried, and the mother was happy.

[His winning and practical ways of dealing with his penitents afford an endless theme of anecdote, but some have grown to most extravagant proportions. The following shows how, as in all legends, mysteries are made to wear a material form. The fact that on some occasions he satisfied some, whom no one else could satisfy, of the boundless mercy of God, is brought to proof in such a tangible way as to provoke the denial it was invented to silence.]

[His effective and practical methods for handling his penitents provide an endless source of stories, but some have become quite exaggerated. The following illustrates how, like in all legends, mysteries take on a physical form. The fact that he sometimes brought comfort to those whom no one else could satisfy regarding the limitless mercy of God is demonstrated in such a concrete way that it challenges the very denial it was meant to silence.]

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4

There was a man who was dying, and would not have a priest near him. He said he had so many sins on him it was impossible God could forgive him, so it was no use bothering himself about confessing. His wife and his children begged and entreated him to let them send for a priest, but he would not listen to them.

There was a man who was dying and refused to have a priest by his side. He insisted that he had so many sins that it was impossible for God to forgive him, so there was no point in worrying about confessing. His wife and children begged him to let them call a priest, but he wouldn’t listen to them.

So they sent for Padre Filippo, and as he was a friend he said:

So they called for Padre Filippo, and since he was a friend, he said:

‘If he comes as a visitor he may come in, but not as a priest.’ [235]

‘If he comes as a visitor, he can come in, but not as a priest.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Good Philip sat down by his side and said:

Good Philip sat down next to him and said:

‘A visitor may ask a question. Why won’t you let me come as a priest?’

‘A visitor might ask a question. Why won’t you let me join as a priest?’

The sick man gave the same answer as before.

The sick man gave the same reply as before.

‘Now you’re quite mistaken,’ said St. Philip, ‘and I’ll show you something.’

‘Now you’re totally mistaken,’ said St. Philip, ‘and I’ll show you something.’

Then he called for paper and pen and wrote a note.

Then he asked for paper and a pen and wrote a note.

‘Padre Eterne!’ he wrote. ‘Can a man’s sins be forgiven?’ and he folded it, and away it went of itself right up to heaven.

‘Eternal Father!’ he wrote. ‘Can a man’s sins be forgiven?’ and he folded it, and it flew up to heaven by itself.

An hour later, as they were all sitting there, another note came back all by itself, written in shining letters of gold, and it said:—

An hour later, while they were all sitting there, another note appeared by itself, written in glowing gold letters, and it said:—

‘Padre Eterne forgives and receives everyone who is penitent.’

‘Eternal Father forgives and welcomes everyone who is truly sorry.’

The sick man resisted no longer after that; he made his confession and received the sacrament, and died consoled in ‘good Philip’s’ arms.

The sick man didn't resist anymore after that; he confessed and received the sacrament, and died comforted in ‘good Philip’s’ arms.

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5

Padre Filippo was walking one day through the streets of Rome when he saw a great crowd very much excited. ‘What’s the matter?’ asked ‘good Philip.’

Padre Filippo was walking one day through the streets of Rome when he noticed a large crowd that seemed really excited. “What’s going on?” asked “good Philip.”

‘There’s a man in that house up there beating his wife fit to kill her, and for nothing at all, for she’s an angel of goodness. Nothing at all, but because she’s so ugly.’

‘There’s a guy in that house up there beating his wife to the brink of death, and for no reason at all, because she’s a kind-hearted angel. No reason at all, just because she’s so unattractive.’

Padre Filippo waited till the husband was tired of beating her and had gone out, and all the crowd had dispersed. Then he went up to the room where the poor woman lived, and knocked at the door. ‘Who’s there?’ said the woman.

Padre Filippo waited until the husband got tired of hitting her and left, and all the onlookers had gone. Then he went up to the room where the poor woman lived and knocked on the door. 'Who’s there?' asked the woman.

‘Padre Filippo!’ answered ‘good Philip,’ and the woman opened quickly enough when she heard it was Padre Filippo who knocked.

‘Padre Filippo!’ replied ‘good Philip,’ and the woman opened the door quickly when she heard it was Padre Filippo knocking.

But good Philip himself started back with horror when he saw her, she was so ugly. However, he said nothing, [236]but made the sign of the cross over her, and prayed, and immediately she became as beautiful as she had been ugly; but she knew nothing, of course, of the change.

But good Philip jumped back in shock when he saw her; she was so ugly. Still, he said nothing, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]but made the sign of the cross over her and prayed. Instantly, she became as beautiful as she had been ugly, but, of course, she didn’t realize the change at all.

‘Your husband won’t beat you any more,’ said good Philip, as he turned to go; ‘only if he asks you who has been here send him to me.’

‘Your husband won’t hit you anymore,’ said good Philip as he turned to leave; ‘just tell him to come to me if he asks who has been here.’

When the husband came home and found his wife had become so beautiful, he kissed her, and was beside himself for joy; and she could not imagine what had made him so different towards her. ‘Who has been here?’ he asked.

When the husband came home and saw how beautiful his wife had become, he kissed her and was overwhelmed with joy; she couldn't understand what had made him act so differently towards her. ‘Who has been here?’ he asked.

‘Only Padre Filippo,’ answered the wife; ‘and he said that if you asked I was to tell you to go to him;’ the husband ran off to him to thank him, and to say how sorry he was for having beaten her.

‘Only Padre Filippo,’ answered the wife; ‘and he said that if you asked, I was to tell you to go to him;’ the husband ran off to thank him and to say how sorry he was for having hit her.

But there lived opposite a woman who was also in everything the opposite of this one. She was very handsome, but as bad in conduct as the other was good. However, when she saw the ugly wife become so handsome, she said to herself, ‘If good Philip would only make me a little handsomer than I am, it would be a good thing for me;’ and she went to Padre Filippo and asked him to make her handsomer.

But across the way lived a woman who was completely the opposite of her. She was very attractive, but as terrible in behavior as the other one was good. However, when she saw the ugly wife become beautiful, she thought to herself, "If good Philip could just make me a bit more attractive than I am, that would be great for me;" and she went to Padre Filippo and asked him to make her more beautiful.

Padre Filippo looked at her, and he knew what sort of woman she was, and he raised his hand and made the sign of the cross over her, and prayed, and she became ugly; uglier even than the other woman had been!

Padre Filippo looked at her and recognized what kind of woman she was. He raised his hand and made the sign of the cross over her, prayed, and she became ugly—uglier even than the other woman had been!

‘Why have you treated me differently from the other woman?’ exclaimed the woman, for she had brought a glass with her to be able to contemplate the improvement she expected him to make in her appearance.

‘Why have you treated me differently from the other woman?’ the woman exclaimed, as she had brought a glass with her to see the improvement she hoped he would make in her appearance.

‘Because beauty was of use to her in her state of life,’ answered Padre Filippo. ‘But you have only used the beauty God gave you as an occasion of sin; therefore a stumbling-block have I now removed out of your way.’

‘Because beauty was useful to her in her position in life,’ replied Padre Filippo. ‘But you have only used the beauty God gave you as a reason to sin; therefore, I have now removed a stumbling block from your path.’

And he said well, didn’t he? [237]

And he said, "Well, didn’t he?" [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

One Easter there came to him a young man of good family to confession, and Padre Filippo knew that every one had tried in vain to make him give up his mistress, and that to argue with him about it was quite useless. So he tried another tack. ‘I know it is such a habit with you to go to see her you can’t give it up, so I’m not going to ask you to. You shall go and see her as often as you like, only will you do something to please me?’

One Easter, a young man from a good family came to him for confession, and Padre Filippo knew that everyone had tried unsuccessfully to make him leave his girlfriend, and that arguing with him about it was pointless. So he took a different approach. “I know it’s such a routine for you to see her that you can’t give it up, so I’m not going to ask you to. You can go and see her as often as you want, but will you do something to make me happy?”

The young man was very fond of good Philip, and there was nothing he would have not done for him except to give up his mistress; so as he knew that was not in question, he answered ‘yes’ very readily.

The young man really cared about good Philip, and there was nothing he wouldn’t have done for him except give up his girlfriend; so since he knew that wasn’t on the table, he answered ‘yes’ without hesitation.

‘You promise me to do what I say, punctually?’ asked the saint.

‘Do you promise me you'll do what I say, on time?’ asked the saint.

‘Oh, yes, father, punctually.’

"Yes, Dad, right on time."

‘Very well, then; all I ask is that though you go to her as often as you like, you just pass by this way and come up and pull my bell every time you go; nothing more than that.’

‘Alright, then; all I ask is that even though you visit her as often as you want, you just stop by here and ring my bell every time you go; nothing more than that.’

The young man did not think it was a very hard injunction, but when it came to performing it he felt its effect. At first he used to go three times a day, but he was so ashamed of ringing the saint’s bell so often, that very soon he went no more than once a day. That dropped to two or three times a week, then once a week, and long before next Easter he had given her up and had become all his parents could wish him to be.

The young man didn’t think it was a difficult request, but when it came time to actually do it, he felt its impact. At first, he would go three times a day, but he was so embarrassed about ringing the saint’s bell so often that he soon went no more than once a day. That turned into two or three times a week, then once a week, and well before next Easter, he had completely given it up and had become everything his parents hoped he would be.

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7

‘There was another such case; just such another, only this man had a wife too, but he was so infatuated with the other, he would have it she loved him the better of the two.’

‘There was another case like this; just like it, except this man had a wife too, but he was so obsessed with the other woman that he was convinced she loved him more than she loved his wife.’

‘Yes; and the other was a miniature-painter,’ broke in [238]corroboratively a kind of charwoman who had come in to tidy the place while we were talking.

‘Yes, and the other one was a miniature painter,’ interrupted [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__], a sort of cleaning lady who had come in to tidy up while we were talking.

‘Yes, she was a miniature-painter,’ continued the narrator; ‘but it’s I who am telling the story.’

‘Yes, she was a miniature painter,’ continued the narrator; ‘but it’s me who’s telling the story.’

‘Padre Filippo said, “How much do you allow her?”’

‘Padre Filippo said, “How much do you let her?”’

‘Twenty pauls a day,’ broke in the charwoman.

‘Twenty bucks a day,’ interrupted the cleaner.

‘Forty scudi a month,’ said the narrator positively.

‘Forty scudi a month,’ said the narrator confidently.

‘There’s not much difference,’ interposed I, fearing I should lose the story between them. ‘Twenty pauls a day is sixty scudi a month. It doesn’t matter.’

‘There’s not much difference,’ I chimed in, worried I might miss the story between them. ‘Twenty pauls a day is sixty scudi a month. It doesn’t matter.’

‘Well, then, Padre Filippo said,’ continued the narrator, ‘“Now just to try whether she cares so much about you, you give her thirty scudi a month.”’

‘Well, then, Padre Filippo said,’ continued the narrator, ‘“Now let’s see how much she really cares about you. Give her thirty scudi a month.”’

‘Fifteen pauls a day,’ interposed the charwoman.

‘Fifteen pauls a day,’ interjected the cleaning lady.

‘Thirty scudi a month!’ reiterated the narrator.

‘Thirty scudi a month!’ the narrator repeated.

‘Never mind,’ said I. ‘Whatever it was, it was to be reduced.’

‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘Whatever it was, it was meant to be cut down.’

‘Yes; that’s it,’ pursued the narrator; ‘and he made him go on and on diminishing it. She took it very well at first, suspecting he was trying her, and thinking he would make it up to her afterwards.’

‘Yes; that’s it,’ continued the narrator; ‘and he kept making her reduce it more and more. She handled it pretty well at first, thinking he was testing her and believing he would make it up to her later.’

‘But when she found he didn’t,’ said the charwoman,

‘But when she found he didn’t,’ said the cleaning lady,

‘She turned him out,’ said the narrator, putting her down with a frown. ‘He was so infatuated, however, that even now he was not satisfied, and said that in stopping the money he had been unfair, and she was in the right. So good Philip, who was patience itself, said, “Go and pay her up, and we’ll try her another way. You go and kill a dog, and put it in a bag, and go to her with your hands covered with blood, and let her think you have got into trouble for hurting some one, and ask her to hide you.” So the man went and killed a dog.’

‘She kicked him out,’ said the narrator, frowning at her. ‘He was so obsessed, though, that even now he wasn’t satisfied, claiming that by cutting off the money he had been unfair, and that she was right. So good Philip, who was the epitome of patience, said, “Go pay her what you owe, and we’ll try a different approach. Go kill a dog, put it in a bag, and go to her with your hands covered in blood, making her think you’ve gotten into trouble for hurting someone, and ask her to help you hide.” So the man went and killed a dog.’

‘It was a cat he killed, because he couldn’t find a dog handy,’ said the irrepressible charwoman.

‘It was a cat he killed because he couldn’t find a dog around,’ said the unstoppable cleaning lady.

‘Nonsense; of course it was a dog,’ asseverated the narrator. ‘But when he went to her house and pretended [239]to be in a bad way, and asked her to have pity on him, she only answered: “Not I, indeed! I’m not going to get myself into a scrape6 with the law, for him!” and drove him away. And he came and told Padre Filippo.

‘Nonsense; of course it was a dog,’ the narrator insisted. ‘But when he went to her house and pretended [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] to be in trouble, and asked her to have pity on him, she just replied: “Not a chance! I’m not getting into any legal trouble for him!” and sent him away. Then he went and told Padre Filippo.

‘“Now,” said good Philip, “go to your wife whom you have abandoned so long. Go to her with the same story, and see what she does for you.”

“Now,” said good Philip, “go to your wife whom you’ve left for so long. Go to her with the same story, and see what she does for you.”

‘The man took the dead dog in the bag, and ran to the lodging where his wife was, and knocked stealthily at her door. “It is I,” he whispered.

‘The man grabbed the dead dog in the bag and hurried to the place where his wife was staying, knocking quietly on her door. “It’s me,” he whispered.

‘“Come in, husband,” exclaimed the wife, throwing open the door.

“Come in, husband,” the wife said, swinging the door open.

‘“Stop! hush! take care! don’t touch me!” said the husband. “There’s blood upon me. Save me! hide me! put me somewhere!”

‘“Stop! Hush! Be careful! Don’t touch me!” said the husband. “There’s blood on me. Save me! Hide me! Put me somewhere!”’

‘“It’s so long since you’ve been here, no one will think of coming after you here, so you will be quite safe. Sit down and be composed,” said the wife soothingly; and she poured him out wine to drink.

‘“It’s been so long since you’ve been here, no one will think to come after you now, so you’ll be totally safe. Sit down and relax,” said the wife comfortingly; and she poured him a glass of wine to drink.

‘But the police were nearer than he fancied. He had thought to finish up the affair in five minutes by explaining all to her. But “the other,” not satisfied with refusing him shelter, had gone and set the police on his track; and here they were after him.

‘But the police were closer than he realized. He had hoped to wrap things up in five minutes by explaining everything to her. But “the other,” not content with turning him away, had gone and alerted the police; and here they were, on his trail.

‘The wife’s quick ears heard them on the stairs. “Get into this cupboard quick, and leave me to manage them,” she said.

‘The wife’s sharp ears caught the sound of them on the stairs. “Get in this cupboard quickly, and let me handle them,” she said.

‘The husband safely stowed away, she opened the door without hesitation, as if she had nothing to hide. “How can you think he is here?” she said when they asked for him. “Ask any of the neighbours how long it is since he has been here.”

‘With her husband out of the way, she opened the door without a second thought, as if she had nothing to conceal. “Why do you think he’s here?” she said when they inquired about him. “Just ask any of the neighbors how long it’s been since he was around.”

‘“Oh, three years,” “four years,” “five,” said various voices of people who had come round at hearing the police arrive.

“Oh, three years,” “four years,” “five,” said different voices of people who had gathered when they heard the police arriving.

‘“You see you must have come to the wrong place,” [240]she said. And the husband smiled as he heard her standing out for him so bravely.

“You see, you must have come to the wrong place,” [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] she said. And the husband smiled as he heard her standing up for him so bravely.

‘Her determined manner had satisfied the police; and they were just turning to go when one of them saw tell-tale spots of blood on the floor that had dropped from the dead dog. The track was followed to the cupboard, and the man dragged to prison. It was in vain that he assured them he had killed nothing but a dog.

‘Her determined demeanor had convinced the police; and they were just about to leave when one of them noticed suspicious spots of blood on the floor that had fallen from the dead dog. They followed the trail to the cupboard, and the man was taken to jail. It was no use for him to insist that he had only killed a dog.

‘“Ha! that will be the faithful dog of the murdered man,” said the police. “We shan’t be long before we find the body of the man himself!”

‘“Ha! that must be the loyal dog of the murdered man,” said the police. “We won’t be long before we find the body of the man himself!”

‘The wife was distracted at finding her husband, who had but so lately come back to her, was to be taken away again; and he could discern how real was her distress.

‘The wife was upset to discover that her husband, who had just recently returned to her, was going to be taken away again; and he could see how sincere her distress was.

‘“Go to Padre Filippo, and he will set all right,” said the husband as they carried him away. The woman went to Padre Filippo, and he explained all, amid the laughter of the Court. But the husband went back to his wife, and never left her any more after that.’

‘“Go to Padre Filippo, and he’ll fix everything,” said the husband as they took him away. The woman went to Padre Filippo, and he explained everything, while the Court laughed. But the husband returned to his wife and never left her again after that.’

[The story was told me another time with this variation, that the penitent was a peasant7 who came up to Rome with his ass, and tied it to a pillar set up for the purpose outside the church, while he went in to confess. The first time he went, St. Philip told him he must have nothing more to do with the occasion of sin, who in this case was a spinner instead of a miniature-painter. The peasant was so angry with the advice that he stayed away from confession a whole year. At the end of the year he came back. St. Philip received him with open arms, saying he had been praying ever since for his return to a better mind. The sum that formed the sliding-scale that was to open his eyes to the mercenary nature of the affection he had so much prized, was calculated at a lower rate than the other; but the rest of the story was the same.]

[The story was told to me another time with this variation: the penitent was a peasant7 who came to Rome with his donkey and tied it to a pillar outside the church meant for that purpose while he went in to confess. The first time he went, St. Philip told him he needed to cut ties with the cause of his sin, which in this case was a spinner instead of a miniature painter. The peasant was so upset with the advice that he avoided confession for a whole year. At the end of the year, he returned. St. Philip welcomed him with open arms, saying he had been praying for his return to a better mindset ever since. The sum that formed the sliding scale to open his eyes to the mercenary nature of the affection he had once treasured was set at a lower rate than the previous one; however, the rest of the story was the same.]

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

8

‘Ah, there’s plenty to be said about Padre Filippo,’ said the charwoman; and I should have liked to put her [241]under examination, but that it would have been a breach of hospitality, as the other evidently did not like the interruption; so I was obliged to be satisfied with the testimony she had already afforded of the popularity of the saint. ‘Ha, good Padre Filippo, he was content to eat “black bread” like us’; and she took a hunch out of her pocket to show me; (it was only like our ‘brown bread.’)

‘Oh, there’s a lot to say about Padre Filippo,’ said the cleaner; and I would have liked to question her [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] more, but that would have been rude, since the others clearly didn't appreciate the interruption; so I had to settle for the evidence she had already given about the saint's popularity. ‘Ah, good Padre Filippo, he was happy to eat “black bread” like us,’ and she pulled out a piece from her pocket to show me; (it was just like our ‘brown bread.’)

‘There was no lack where he was. Once I know, with half a rubbio8 of corn, he made enough to last all the community ten years,’ she, however, ran on to say before she could be dismissed.

‘There was no shortage where he was. Once I knew, with half a rubbio8 of corn, he made enough to last the whole community ten years,’ she continued to say before she could be let go.

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

9

One day Padre Filippo was going over Ponte S. Angelo, when he met two little boys who seemed to attract his notice. ‘Forty-two years hence you will be made a cardinal,’ he said to one, as he gave him a friendly tap with his walking-stick. ‘And that other one,’ he added, turning to his companion, ‘will be dead in two years.’

One day, Padre Filippo was crossing Ponte S. Angelo when he spotted two little boys who caught his attention. “Forty-two years from now, you’ll be a cardinal,” he said to one of them, giving him a friendly tap with his walking stick. “And that other one,” he continued, turning to his companion, “will be dead in two years.”

And so it came true exactly.

And so it happened just as it was meant to.

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10

There was another peasant who, when he came into Rome on a Sunday morning, always went to the church where St. Philip was.9 ‘You quite weary10 one with your continual preaching about the Blessed Sacrament. I’m so tired of hearing about it, that I declare to you I don’t care so much about it as my mule does about a sack of corn.’ Padre Filippo preferred convincing people in some practical way to going into angry discussions with them; so he did not say very much in answer to the countryman’s remarks, but asked him the name of his village. Not long after he went down to this village to preach; and had a pretty little altar erected on a hill-side, and set up the Blessed Sacrament in Exposition. Then he went and found out the same countryman, and said, ‘Now bring [242]a sack of corn near where the altar is, and let’s see what the mule does.’ The countryman placed a sack of corn near the altar, and drove the mule by to see what it would do.

There was another peasant who, when he arrived in Rome on a Sunday morning, always went to the church where St. Philip was. 9 “You really wear me out with your constant preaching about the Blessed Sacrament. I’m so tired of hearing about it that, honestly, I care about it as much as my mule cares about a sack of corn.” Padre Filippo preferred to convince people in practical ways rather than getting into heated arguments with them; so he didn’t say much in response to the countryman’s comments, but instead asked him the name of his village. Not long after, he went to that village to preach; and had a nice little altar built on a hillside, setting up the Blessed Sacrament for Exposition. Then he went to find the same countryman and said, “Now bring [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] a sack of corn close to the altar and let’s see what the mule does.” The countryman placed a sack of corn near the altar and led the mule by to see what it would do.

The mule kicked aside the sack of corn, and fell down on its knees before the altar; and the man, seeing the token, went to confession to St. Philip, and never said anything profane any more.

The mule kicked the sack of corn aside and knelt before the altar. The man, seeing this sign, went to confess to St. Philip and never spoke anything disrespectful again.

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11

There were two other fellows11 who were more profane still, and who said one to the other, ‘They make such a fuss about Padre Filippo and his miracles, I warrant it’s all nonsense. Let’s watch till he passes, and one of us pretend to be dead and see if he finds it out.’

There were two other guys11 who were even more vulgar, and they said to each other, “They make such a big deal about Padre Filippo and his miracles. I bet it’s all nonsense. Let’s wait until he walks by, and one of us can pretend to be dead and see if he figures it out.”

So said so done. ‘What is your companion lying on the ground for?’ said St. Philip as he passed. ‘He’s dead! Father,’ replied the other. ‘Dead, is he?’ said Padre Filippo; ‘then you must go for a bier for him.’ He had no sooner passed on than the man burst out laughing, expecting his companion to join his mirth. But his companion didn’t move. ‘Why don’t you get up?’ he said, and gave him a kick; but he made no sign. When he bent down to look at him he found he was really dead; and he had to go for the bier.

So said, so done. “Why is your friend lying on the ground?” St. Philip asked as he walked by. “He’s dead, Father,” the other replied. “Dead, huh?” said Padre Filippo; “then you need to go get a stretcher for him.” As soon as he moved on, the man started laughing, expecting his friend to join in. But his friend didn’t budge. “Why don’t you get up?” he said, giving him a kick; but there was no response. When he bent down to check on him, he realized he was really dead, and he had to go get the stretcher.

[Cancellieri has collected some curious incidents (‘Morcato,’ p. 210–12, Appendix N. xxii.) concerning an attempt which was made by Princess Anne Colonna to obtain from Urban VIII. the authority to remove a part of the Saint’s body to her chapel at Naples. The Fathers of the Oratory and the people were greatly averse to dividing it, as it was very well preserved in its entirety. By a fatality, which the people readily believed to be providential, Monsig. Moraldo, who was charged to bring the matter under the Pope’s notice, forgot it every time he was in attendance on the Pope, though it was the most important thing he had to say. At last he put the Bull concerning it out on his desk that he might be sure to remember it, though otherwise he would have kept it concealed, for it bore the endorsement, ‘Per levare (to remove) parte del corpo di S. Filippo Neri.’ While he was talking about it to one of the papal secretaries standing near the window, a priest, who had come about other matters, was shown in, and thus happened to pass by the side of the table when the endorsement of the Bull caught his eye. With all a Roman’s desire to preserve the body to Rome intact, he immediately gave notice at the Oratory, and two courageous young fathers took upon themselves to hide the body. When the prelates, therefore, came shortly after to claim the fulfilment of the Bull, the Rector opened the shrine in good faith, but the body was not there, and the report ran among the vulgar that it had been miraculously removed. Subsequently the Rector gave them [244]the heart, and drew a tooth of the Saint, which was a verbal compliance with the terms of the Bull, being certainly ‘a part of the body.’ Some years after, the body was restored to its shrine, and in 1743 Prince Chigi provided it with velvets and brocades to the value of 1,000 scudi.]

[Cancellieri has gathered some intriguing incidents (‘Morcato,’ p. 210–12, Appendix N. xxii.) about an attempt made by Princess Anne Colonna to get permission from Urban VIII. to remove a part of the Saint’s body to her chapel in Naples. The Fathers of the Oratory and the people strongly opposed dividing it since it was very well preserved in its entirety. By a twist of fate, which the people readily believed to be divine intervention, Monsignore Moraldo, who was supposed to bring the matter to the Pope's attention, forgot about it every time he was with the Pope, even though it was the most important thing on his agenda. Eventually, he put the Bull regarding it on his desk to make sure he wouldn't forget it, though he would have preferred to keep it hidden, as it had the note, ‘Per levare (to remove) parte del corpo di S. Filippo Neri.’ While he was discussing it with one of the papal secretaries near the window, a priest who had come regarding other matters was shown in and happened to walk by the table, catching sight of the Bull's note. With a Roman's determination to keep the body intact in Rome, he immediately informed the Oratory, and two brave young fathers took it upon themselves to hide the body. When the prelates later came to claim the fulfillment of the Bull, the Rector opened the shrine in good faith, but the body was gone, and rumors spread among the people that it had been miraculously removed. Subsequently, the Rector gave them [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] the heart and pulled out a tooth of the Saint, which technically complied with the terms of the Bull, as it was certainly ‘a part of the body.’ A few years later, the body was returned to its shrine, and in 1743, Prince Chigi donated velvets and brocades worth 1,000 scudi.]

1 ‘Grascia e annòna’ are two old words meaning all kinds of meat and vegetable (including grain) food. It was the title of one department of the local administration. There was a great dearth in Rome in the year 1590–1, mentioned in the histories of the times. It is probable the people would ascribe to the head of the department the fault of the calamity. ↑

1 ‘Grascia and Annòna’ are two old terms that refer to all sorts of meat and vegetable (including grain) food. This was the title of one department within the local government. There was a significant shortage in Rome during the year 1590–1, which is mentioned in the historical records of that time. It's likely that the people would blame the head of the department for the disaster. ↑

2 These people generally call the popes by their family names. This ‘Papa Medici’ would be Pius IV., who reigned from 1559 to 1566. ↑

2 These people usually refer to the popes by their last names. This 'Papa Medici' would be Pius IV, who served from 1559 to 1566. ↑

3 ‘Brutte anime,’ ‘ugly souls.’ ↑

3 ‘Brutte anime,’ ‘ugly souls.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4 All legends have doubtless some foundation in fact; but unfortunately for the detail of this one, the arms up in the façade of the said Churches, ‘Dei Miracoli’ and ‘di Monte Santo’—are the arms of a Cardinal Gastaldi or Castaldi, who rebuilt them about a hundred years later than St. Philip’s time. Alexander VII. having rebuilt the Flaminian Gate, or Porta del Popolo, the insignificance of these two churches became more noticeable than before; but [243]he did not survive to carry out his intention of rebuilding them. This was subsequently performed by Cardinal Gastaldi.—Maroni, xii. 147, xxviii. 185; Panciroli, 169; Melchiorri, 254 and 420. ↑

4 All legends definitely have some basis in reality; however, unfortunately for the specifics of this one, the coats of arms displayed on the façades of the churches 'Dei Miracoli' and 'di Monte Santo' belong to Cardinal Gastaldi or Castaldi, who rebuilt them about a hundred years after St. Philip’s time. After Alexander VII. rebuilt the Flaminian Gate, or Porta del Popolo, the unimportance of these two churches became more apparent than ever; but [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] he did not live long enough to carry out his plan to rebuild them. This was later done by Cardinal Gastaldi.—Maroni, xii. 147, xxviii. 185; Panciroli, 169; Melchiorri, 254 and 420. ↑

5 ‘Impicciare,’ ‘entangle myself with,’ ‘interfere with’—a very favourite Romanism. ↑

5 ‘Get caught up,’ ‘entangle myself with,’ ‘interfere with’—a very popular Roman expression. ↑

6 ‘Impicciare,’ again here. ↑

6 ‘Impicciare,’ here again. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

7 ‘Campagnola,’ a peasant of the Campagna near Rome. ↑

7 ‘Campagnola,’ a farmer from the countryside near Rome. ↑

8 A rubbio is between four and five acres. ↑

8 A rubbio covers about four to five acres. ↑

9 St. Philip lived and taught for thirty-three years at the Church of S. Girolamo della Carità, not very far from the vegetable market in Campo de’ Fiori, all the streets about containing shops much frequented by the country people when they come up to Rome with their vegetables. ↑

9 St. Philip lived and taught for thirty-three years at the Church of St. Girolamo della Carità, not far from the vegetable market in Campo de’ Fiori. The surrounding streets were filled with shops that were popular with the country people when they came to Rome with their vegetables. ↑

10 ‘Scocciare,’ to persevere to weariness; to din. ↑

10 ‘Scocciare,’ to persist until exhausted; to make a fuss. ↑

11 ‘Vassalli,’ in the older dictionaries ‘vassallo’ is only defined as a vassal; but in modern Roman parlance it means a scamp, a vagabond. ↑

11 ‘Vassalli’ in older dictionaries defines 'vassallo' strictly as a vassal; however, in modern Roman conversation, it refers to a troublemaker or a drifter. ↑

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THE PARDON OF ASISI.1

St. Felix,2 St. Vincent,3 and St. Philip went together once upon a time to the Pardon of Asisi.

St. Felix, 2 St. Vincent, 3 and St. Philip went together one time to the Pardon of Asisi.

As they were three great saints, the Pope sent for them as soon as they came back, saying he had a question to ask them. It was Innocent IX. or X., I am not sure which; but I know it was an Innocent.4 He took them one by one, separately, and began with St. Felix.

As they were three great saints, the Pope called for them as soon as they returned, saying he had a question for them. It was Innocent IX or X; I'm not sure which, but I know it was an Innocent.4 He spoke with each of them individually, starting with St. Felix.

‘Were there a great many people at the Pardon?’ said the Pope.

‘Were there a lot of people at the Pardon?’ asked the Pope.

‘Oh yes, an immense number,’ answered simple St. Felix; ‘I had not thought the whole world contained such a number.’

‘Oh yes, a huge number,’ replied simple St. Felix; ‘I never thought the whole world could hold so many.’

‘Then a vast number of sins must have been remitted that day?’ said the Pope.

‘So, a huge number of sins must have been forgiven that day?’ said the Pope.

St. Felix only sighed in reply.

St. Felix just sighed in response.

‘Why do you sigh?’ asked the Pope.

‘Why are you sighing?’ asked the Pope.

St. Felix hesitated to reply, but the Pope bade him tell him what was in his mind.

St. Felix paused before answering, but the Pope urged him to share what he was thinking.

‘There were but few who gained the indulgence in all that multitude,’ replied the Saint; ‘for among them all were few who came with the contrition required.’

‘There were only a handful who received the mercy in that crowd,’ replied the Saint; ‘for among them, very few came with the necessary remorse.’

‘How many were there who did receive it?’ again asked the Pope.

‘How many people actually received it?’ the Pope asked again.

Once more St. Felix hesitated till the Pope ordered him to speak.

Once again, St. Felix hesitated until the Pope told him to speak.

‘There were only four,’ he then said. [245]

‘There were only four,’ he then said. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Only four!’ exclaimed the Pope. ‘And who were they?’

‘Only four!’ exclaimed the Pope. ‘And who were they?’

St. Felix showed even more reluctance to answer this question than the others; but the Pope made it a matter of obedience, and then he said,

St. Felix was even more hesitant to answer this question than the others; but the Pope insisted it was a matter of obedience, and then he said,

‘The four were Father Philip, Father Vincent, one old man, and one other.’5

‘The four were Father Philip, Father Vincent, one old man, and one other.’5

The Pope next called for Father Vincent, and went through nearly the same dialogue with him, and his list was

The Pope then called for Father Vincent and had a similar conversation with him, and his list was

‘Father Philip, Father Felix, one old man, and one other.’

‘Father Philip, Father Felix, one old man, and one other.’

Then the Pope sent for St. Philip, and held the same discourse with him, and his list was

Then the Pope called for St. Philip and had the same conversation with him, and his list was

‘Father Vincent, Father Felix, one old man, and one other.’

‘Father Vincent, Father Felix, one elderly man, and one other.’

And the Pope saw that their testimony agreed together, and that each out of humility had abstained from naming that he was one of the four.

And the Pope noticed that their stories matched, and that each of them, out of humility, had refrained from mentioning that he was one of the four.

But when the people heard the story, they all began demanding that the three fathers should be canonized. [246]

But when the people heard the story, they all started insisting that the three fathers should be canonized. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

[Concerning St. Philip’s devotion to the Portiuncula, Cancellieri, ‘Mercato,’ § xxi. note 7, records that he never missed attending it every August at the little Church of S. Salvatore, in Onda, near Ponte Sisto, now a hospice for infirm priests (he gives a curious inscription in note * * *), then in the hands of the Franciscans for many years, while he lived in the neighbouring Palazzo Caccia.]

[Concerning St. Philip’s devotion to the Portiuncula, Cancellieri, ‘Mercato,’ § xxi. note 7, records that he never missed attending it every August at the little Church of S. Salvatore, in Onda, near Ponte Sisto, now a hospice for sick priests (he gives a curious inscription in note * * *), then managed by the Franciscans for many years, while he lived in the nearby Palazzo Caccia.]

1 ‘Il Perdon di Asisi.’ The indulgences attached to visiting the Church of S. Maria degli Angeli near Asisi (otherwise called the Porziuncula), received this name on occasion of its consecration on the 1st and 2nd August, 1225. The visit on the anniversary became one of the most popular of Italian pilgrimages. ↑

1 ‘The Forgiveness of Assisi.’ The indulgences linked to visiting the Church of St. Mary of the Angels near Assisi (also known as the Porziuncola), got this name when it was consecrated on August 1st and 2nd, 1225. The visit on the anniversary became one of the most popular pilgrimages in Italy. ↑

2 San Felice di Cantaliccio, 1513–87, is a very popular saint among the Romans, for one reason because he was born of poor parentage. Though of low origin, and only a lay brother in his convent, he was frequently consulted by important people on account of his piety and prudence. St. Charles Borromeo took great note of his advice. He was a contemporary of St. Philip. ↑

2 San Felice di Cantaliccio, 1513–87, is a well-loved saint among the Romans, partly because he came from a poor family. Despite his humble background and being just a lay brother in his convent, he was often sought out by important figures for his spirituality and wisdom. St. Charles Borromeo paid close attention to his counsel. He was a contemporary of St. Philip. ↑

3 St. Vincent Ferrer, who is so popular a saint among the Romans, so continually coupled with St. Philip and his acts, and always spoken of as if he had all his life been an inhabitant of Rome, lived just two centuries earlier (1351–1419) than the ‘Apostle of Rome.’ Though he went about preaching and reforming all over Europe, and even in England and Ireland at the invitation of Henry IV., he was yet never in Rome at all, though much at Avignon under the so-called Benedict XIII., his countryman, with whom he used all his influence to make him put an end to the schism. ↑

3 St. Vincent Ferrer, a highly regarded saint among the Romans, is frequently associated with St. Philip and his deeds, often mentioned as if he had spent his entire life in Rome. However, he actually lived just two centuries earlier (1351–1419) than the ‘Apostle of Rome.’ Although he traveled around Europe preaching and reforming, including visits to England and Ireland at the request of Henry IV., he never actually visited Rome. He spent a lot of time in Avignon with the so-called Benedict XIII, his fellow countryman, and used all his influence to persuade him to end the schism. ↑

4 Innocent IX., who reigned 1590–1, took a great deal of notice of St. Philip. It is curious the narrator should have been so far out concerning St. Vincent and so correct about this. ↑

4 Innocent IX, who ruled from 1590 to 1591, paid a lot of attention to St. Philip. It's interesting that the narrator was so mistaken about St. Vincent but so accurate about this. ↑

5 ‘Un vecchietto e un’altro.’ ↑

5 ‘An old man and another.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

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PADRE VINCENZO.

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1

There was Padre Vincenzo too, who wasn’t much less than Good Philip himself. He was a miracle of obedience. One day when he was ill the Father-General sent him a codfish. Padre Vincenzo sent back word to thank him, but said he couldn’t eat it. ‘Nonsense!’ answered the Father-General, who thought he spoke out of regard to his love of abstinence. ‘Nonsense! tell him he is to eat it all.’ The message was given to Padre Vincenzo, who was really too ill to eat anything; but in his simplicity thinking he ought to obey, he ate the whole fish, head, tail, bones, and all.

There was also Padre Vincenzo, who was almost as good as Good Philip himself. He was a model of obedience. One day, while he was sick, the Father-General sent him a codfish. Padre Vincenzo replied to thank him but said he couldn’t eat it. “Nonsense!” said the Father-General, who thought he was speaking out of his commitment to abstinence. “Nonsense! Tell him he has to eat it all.” The message was relayed to Padre Vincenzo, who was genuinely too ill to eat anything; but in his straightforwardness, believing he should obey, he ate the entire fish—head, tail, bones, and all.

By-and-by the Father-General came to see him. He seemed almost at the last gasp, suffocated by the effort he had made, and his throat all lacerated with swallowing the fish-bones. The Father-General praised the simplicity of his obedience, but told the brother who took the message that he ought to have explained it better.

By and by, the Father-General came to see him. He looked like he was about to collapse, struggling to breathe from the effort he’d exerted, and his throat was all scratched up from swallowing the fish bones. The Father-General admired the simplicity of his obedience but told the brother who delivered the message that he should have explained it better.

But Padre Vincenzo did not lose anything by his obedience, for that same evening he was cured of his illness altogether, and was quite well again. [247]

But Padre Vincenzo didn't lose anything by obeying, because that same evening he was completely cured of his illness and was feeling totally fine again. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

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2

Padre Vincenzo worked so many miracles that all Rome was talking about him, and the Father-General thought he would get vain, so he told him not to work any more miracles. Padre Vincenzo therefore worked no more miracles; but one day as he was walking along the street, he passed under a high scaffolding of a house that was being built. Just as he came by, a labourer missed his footing and fell over from the top. ‘Padre Vincenzo, save me!’ cried the man, for everybody knew Padre Vincenzo, and he had just seen him turn into the street. ‘Stop there!’ said Padre Vincenzo; ‘I mustn’t save you, as the Padre-Generale says I’m not to work miracles; but wait there, and I’ll go and ask if I may.’ Then he left him suspended in the air while he ran breathless to ask permission of the Father-General to work the miracle of saving him.

Padre Vincenzo performed so many miracles that everyone in Rome was talking about him, and the Father-General worried he might get proud, so he told him to stop performing miracles. As a result, Padre Vincenzo didn't perform any more miracles; but one day while he was walking down the street, he passed under a high scaffold of a building that was under construction. Just as he walked by, a worker lost his balance and fell from the top. “Padre Vincenzo, save me!” the man shouted, because everyone knew Padre Vincenzo, and he had just seen him enter the street. “Hang on!” said Padre Vincenzo; “I can’t save you, since the Father-General told me not to work miracles; but wait there, and I’ll go ask if I can.” Then he left the man hanging in the air while he rushed to ask the Father-General for permission to perform the miracle of saving him.

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3

One morning Padre Vincenzo had to pass through the Rotonda1 on business of his community. A temptation of the throat2 took him as he saw a pair of fine plump pigeons such as you, perhaps, cannot see anywhere out of the Rotonda hanging up for sale. Padre Vincenzo bought the pigeons, and took them home secretly under his cloak. In his cell he plucked the pigeons, and cooked them over a little fire. The unwonted smell of roast pigeon soon perfumed the corridor, and two or three brothers, having peeped through the keyhole and seen what was going on in Padre Vincenzo’s cell, ran off to say to the Father-General,

One morning, Padre Vincenzo had to go through the Rotonda1 for business related to his community. He was tempted when he spotted a couple of fine, plump pigeons that you probably can't find anywhere outside the Rotonda, hanging up for sale. Padre Vincenzo bought the pigeons and secretly took them home under his cloak. In his cell, he plucked the pigeons and cooked them over a small fire. The unusual smell of roasted pigeon quickly filled the corridor, and two or three brothers, having peeked through the keyhole and seen what was happening in Padre Vincenzo’s cell, ran off to tell the Father-General.

‘What do you think Padre Vincenzo, whom we all reckon such a saint, is doing now! He is cooking pigeons privately in his cell.’

‘What do you think Padre Vincenzo, whom we all consider such a saint, is doing now? He’s privately cooking pigeons in his room.’

‘It’s a calumny! I can’t believe it of him,’ answered the Father-General indignantly. [248]

“It’s a false accusation! I can’t believe he would do that,” replied the Father-General, outraged. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

The spying brothers bid him come and see.

The spying brothers invited him to come and take a look.

‘I am certain if I do, it will be to cover you with confusion in some way or other for telling tales!’ replied the Father-General as he went with them.

‘I’m sure that if I do, it will just confuse you in some way for spreading stories!’ replied the Father-General as he walked with them.

As they passed along the corridor there was the smell of roast pigeon most undeniably; but when the Father-General opened the cell door what did they see?

As they walked down the hallway, they could definitely smell roast pigeon; but when the Father-General opened the cell door, what did they find?

Padre Vincenzo was on his knees, praying for forgiveness in a tone of earnest contrition; round his throat were tied the two pigeons, burning hot, as he had taken them from the fire. A spirit of compunction had seized him as he was about to accomplish the unmortified act of eating in his cell in contravention of his rule, and he had adopted this penance for yielding in intention to the temptation.

Padre Vincenzo was on his knees, praying for forgiveness in a tone of genuine remorse; tied around his neck were the two pigeons, still hot from the fire. A wave of guilt had hit him just as he was about to go against his rules and eat in his cell, so he decided to take on this penance for giving in to the temptation.

1 ‘Rotonda,’ the vulgar name of the Pantheon, gives its appellation to the market which is held in the ‘Salita de’ Cresconzi’ and other adjoining streets. ↑

1 ‘Rotonda,’ the informal name for the Pantheon, refers to the market that takes place in the ‘Salita de Cresconzi’ and nearby streets. ↑

2 ‘Gola,’ the throat; used for ‘gluttony.’ ↑

2 ‘Gola,’ the throat; used for ‘gluttony.’ ↑

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PADRE FONTANAROSA.

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1

There was Padre Fontanarosa too. Did you never hear of him? He was a good friend to the poor; and all Rome loved him. He was a Jesuit; but somehow there were some Jesuits who didn’t like him. Papa Braschi1 was very fond of him, and used to make him come every day and tell him all that went on in Rome, for he was very good to the people, and that way the Pope heard what the people wanted; and many things that were wrong got set right when Padre Fontanarosa explained to the Pope the real state of the case.

There was Padre Fontanarosa too. Have you ever heard of him? He was a great friend to the poor, and everyone in Rome loved him. He was a Jesuit, but strangely enough, some Jesuits didn’t like him. Papa Braschi1 was very fond of him and would call him in every day to tell him everything happening in Rome, because he really cared for the people, and this way the Pope learned what the people wanted; many issues that were wrong got fixed when Padre Fontanarosa explained the real situation to the Pope.

One day Padre Fontanarosa said to the Pope, ‘People say I have been talking too freely, and call it telling tales; but I have only obeyed the wishes of Your Holiness. If I have done wrong send me away.’ But Papa Braschi [249]answered, ‘You have done me good service. Fear nothing.’

One day, Padre Fontanarosa said to the Pope, ‘People say I’ve been speaking too openly and call it gossip; but I’ve only followed Your Holiness's wishes. If I’ve done something wrong, send me away.’ But Papa Braschi [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] replied, ‘You have served me well. Don’t worry about it.’

The next day after that Padre Fontanarosa did not come to the Vatican, or the next, or the next.

The next day after that, Padre Fontanarosa didn't come to the Vatican, or the next day, or the one after that.

Then Papa Braschi called for his carriage, and said, ‘Drive to the Gesù!’ Arrived at the Gesù, he said, ‘I want Padre Fontanarosa; where is he?’

Then Papa Braschi called for his carriage and said, ‘Drive to the Gesù!’ Once they arrived at the Gesù, he said, ‘I want Padre Fontanarosa; where is he?’

They answered, ‘In his cell.’

They replied, ‘In his room.’

But he had been confined in his cell on bread and water for chattering.

But he had been locked up in his cell on just bread and water for talking too much.

‘Then let him be brought out of his cell; for I want him!’ answered Papa Braschi.

‘Then bring him out of his cell; I want to see him!’ replied Papa Braschi.

That time he took Padre Fontanarosa away in his carriage, and no one durst say anything to him any more.

That time he took Padre Fontanarosa away in his carriage, and no one dared to say anything to him anymore.

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2

Father Fontanarosa was very simple in his habits himself; and he thought the best way to keep the Order simple was to keep it poor. Whenever anyone wanted to leave money to it, instead of encouraging them, he used to tell them of some other good work to which they might leave it.

Father Fontanarosa had very simple habits, and he believed the best way to keep the Order simple was to keep it poor. Whenever someone wanted to donate money to it, instead of encouraging them, he would suggest some other good cause they might consider supporting.

One day there was a penitent of his who was very devoted to the Jesuits, a very rich nobleman, who came to die, and, as he was making his will, he would have Padre Fontanarosa and the notary present together. ‘I leave all of which I die possessed to the Church of the Gesù,’ dictated the rich nobleman.

One day, one of his devoted followers, a wealthy nobleman who was very dedicated to the Jesuits, was on his deathbed. While he was preparing his will, he wanted both Padre Fontanarosa and the notary to be present. "I leave everything I own to the Church of the Gesù," the wealthy nobleman stated.

‘What! do you leave all to the Son and nothing to the Mother!’ said Padre Fontanarosa, who knew he was too weak to argue with him as to whether the Order was better without the money or not, and therefore adopted this mode of avoiding the snare, without damaging the good purpose of the testator.

‘What! You leave everything to the Son and nothing to the Mother!’ said Padre Fontanarosa, who recognized he was too weak to argue about whether the Order was better off without the money or not, and so he chose this way to avoid the trap, without undermining the good intentions of the person who wrote the will.

‘Ah! you are right,’ answered the dying man. ‘Thank you for reminding me. Make a codicil,’ he said to the notary, ‘and say I meant it for Gesù and Maria.’ [250]

‘Ah! you’re right,’ replied the dying man. ‘Thanks for the reminder. Write a codicil,’ he told the notary, ‘and mention that I intended it for Jesus and Mary.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

The notary wrote just what he was bid, and the dying man and the witnesses signed all duly. But the money had to go, not to ‘the Gesù’ at all, but to the church of ‘Gesù e Maria’—you know where, at the end of the Corso, which doesn’t belong to the Jesuits at all, but to the Augustinians.

The notary wrote exactly what he was told, and the dying man and the witnesses all signed it properly. But the money had to go, not to ‘the Gesù’ at all, but to the church of ‘Gesù e Maria’—you know where, at the end of the Corso, which isn’t owned by the Jesuits, but by the Augustinians.

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3

Others give him not quite such a good character, and tell the following story of him:—

Others don’t think too highly of him and share this story about him:—

The reason why the Jesuits did not look favourably on Father Fontanarosa was that they thought he went too often to the house of a certain lady. He perceived that they had found out that he visited her, but he went on all the same, only he said to her, ‘If anything happens that the fathers send after me, and anyone comes into the room suddenly; fall down on your knees before the crucifix, and I will speak so that I may seem to be here to give you a penitential warning.’

The reason the Jesuits were not fond of Father Fontanarosa was that they believed he visited a certain lady too often. He realized they had discovered his visits, but he continued to go anyway. He told her, "If anything happens and the fathers send for me, and someone comes into the room unexpectedly, drop to your knees in front of the crucifix, and I'll speak in a way that will make it seem like I'm here giving you a penitential warning."

There happened to be a handsome crucifix, kept more for ornament than devotion, on a slab in her boudoir, and she promised to heed his caution.

There was a beautiful crucifix, kept more for decoration than for religious reasons, on a table in her room, and she promised to take his advice seriously.

One day, when they were together, they heard a ring at the outer door; then a whispering in the passage; then footsteps in the adjoining room. Padre Fontanarosa looked at the lady, and the lady looked at Padre Fontanarosa. Each understood that they were under surveillance. She fell down on her knees before the crucifix, and he exhorted her to take a pattern from the Magdalen; and, as she knelt clasping the foot of the cross, with her beautiful hair all loose over her shoulders, she really looked like a living picture of the Magdalen. Still no one came into the room. But they felt they were being watched; so it was necessary to keep up the deception. Padre Fontanarosa had to speak loudly and fervently in order to make his words resound well in the adjoining [251]room; the lady had to sob to show she was attending to them. Still no one came in; and Padre Fontanarosa had to continue his discourse till, partly through fear lest his courage should fail, and partly lest he should be discovered, he forced himself to forget present circumstances, and to throw himself into his exhortation to such an extent that he preached with a force and eloquence he had never exercised in his life before.

One day, while they were together, they heard a ring at the outer door; then some whispering in the hallway; then footsteps in the next room. Padre Fontanarosa looked at the lady, and she looked back at him. They both realized they were being watched. She dropped to her knees in front of the crucifix, and he encouraged her to follow the example of the Magdalen. As she knelt, clutching the foot of the cross with her beautiful hair cascading over her shoulders, she truly resembled a living image of the Magdalen. Still, no one entered the room. But they could sense they were under scrutiny; so it was crucial to maintain the ruse. Padre Fontanarosa had to speak loudly and passionately to ensure his words echoed in the neighboring [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]room; the lady needed to sob to show she was engaged. Yet still no one came in; and Padre Fontanarosa had to keep talking until, partly out of fear that his courage would wane and partly to avoid being found out, he forced himself to forget the current situation and fully immerse himself in his sermon to the degree that he preached with a power and eloquence he had never demonstrated before.

At last those who had been listening felt satisfied of his sincerity, and went back to the General and told him there was no fault to be found in him.

At last, those who had been listening felt assured of his sincerity and went back to the General, telling him there was nothing wrong with him.

But so effectually had he preached, and so salutary had been his warnings, that the next day the lady entered a convent, to be a penitent all her days.

But he had preached so effectively, and his warnings had been so helpful, that the next day the lady joined a convent to be a penitent for the rest of her life.

1 Pius VI., who reigned 1775–1799. ↑

1 Pius VI, who ruled from 1775 to 1799. ↑

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S. GIUSEPPE LABRE.1

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1

‘There was Giuseppe Labre too, and many wonderful things he did; he was a great saint, as all the people in the Monti2 knew. I don’t know if they’ve put all about him in books yet; if so, you may have read it; but I can’t read.’

‘There was Giuseppe Labre too, and he did many wonderful things; he was a great saint, as everyone in the Monti2 knew. I’m not sure if they’ve written everything about him in books yet; if they have, you might have read it; but I can’t read.’

‘I know a Life of him has been published; but tell me what you have heard about him all the same.’

‘I know they’ve published a biography about him; but still, tell me what you’ve heard about him.’

Giuseppe Labre, you know, passed much of his time in meditation in the Coliseum; the arch behind the picture of the Second Station,3 that’s where he used to be all day, and where he slept most nights, too. There was a butcher in the Via de’ Serpenti who knew him, and kept a little room for him, where he made him come and sleep when the nights were bad and cold, or stormy. These people were very good to him, and, though not well off [252]themselves, were ready to give him a great deal more than he in his love for poverty would consent to accept.

Giuseppe Labre, as you know, spent a lot of his time meditating in the Coliseum; the arch behind the picture of the Second Station, 3, is where he would be all day and where he often slept at night, too. There was a butcher on Via de’ Serpenti who recognized him and kept a small room for him, inviting him to stay there when the nights were particularly bad and cold or stormy. These people were very kind to him, and even though they weren't wealthy themselves, they were willing to offer him much more than he, in his love for poverty, would allow himself to accept. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

One great affliction this butcher had; his wife was bedridden with an incurable disorder. One night there was a terrible storm, it was a burning hot night in summer, and Giuseppe Labre came to sleep at the butcher’s. He was lying on his bed in the little room, which was up a step or two higher than the butcher’s own room, where his wife lay, just as it might be where that cupboard is there. Presently the butcher’s wife heard him call her, saying,

One major problem this butcher faced was that his wife was stuck in bed with a terminal illness. One night, during a terrible storm on a really hot summer night, Giuseppe Labre came to sleep at the butcher's place. He was lying on his bed in a small room that was a step or two higher than the butcher's own room, where his wife was lying, just like it might be near that cupboard over there. Soon, the butcher's wife heard him call her, saying,

‘Sora Angela, bring me a cup of water for the love of God!’

‘Sora Angela, please bring me a cup of water for the love of God!’

‘My friend, you know how gladly I would do anything to help you, but my husband is not come up, and I have no one to send, and you know I cannot move.’

‘My friend, you know how eagerly I would do anything to help you, but my husband hasn’t arrived, and I have no one to send, and you know I can't get up.’

Nevertheless Giuseppe called again, ‘Sora Angela, bring me a cup of water for the love of God!’

Nevertheless, Giuseppe called again, "Sora Angela, please bring me a cup of water for God's sake!"

‘Don’t call so, good friend,’ replied she; ‘it distresses me; you know how gladly I would come if I could only move.’

‘Don’t call me that, good friend,’ she replied; ‘it upsets me; you know how much I would come if I could just move.’

Yet still the third time Giuseppe Labre said,

Yet still the third time, Giuseppe Labre said,

‘Sora Angela, hear me! Bring me a cup of water for the love of God!’ And he spoke the words so authoritatively that the good woman felt as if she was bound to obey him, she made the effort to rise, and, can you believe it! she got up as if there was nothing the matter with her; and from that time forward she was cured.

‘Sora Angela, listen to me! Please bring me a cup of water for the love of God!’ He spoke so commandingly that the kind woman felt obligated to follow his request. She tried to stand up, and, believe it or not! She got up as if there was nothing wrong with her; and from that moment on, she was healed.

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2

There was a poor cobbler who always had a kind word for Giuseppe too. One day Giuseppe Labre came to him, and said he wanted him to lend him a pair of shoes as he was going a pilgrimage to Loreto. The cobbler knew what a way it was from Rome to Loreto, and that there would not be much left of a pair of shoes after they [253]had done the way there and back. Had Labre asked him to give them, his regard for him would have prompted him to assent however ill he could afford it; but to talk of lending shoes to walk to Loreto and back seemed like making game of him, and he didn’t like it. Nevertheless he couldn’t find it in his heart to refuse, and he gave him a pretty tidy pair which he had patched up strong to sell, but without expecting ever to see them again.

There was a poor shoemaker who always had a friendly word for Giuseppe too. One day, Giuseppe Labre came to him and said he wanted to borrow a pair of shoes because he was going on a pilgrimage to Loreto. The shoemaker knew how far it was from Rome to Loreto and that a pair of shoes wouldn’t last long after that journey there and back. If Labre had asked him to give them, his respect for him would have made him agree, no matter how hard it would be for him. But borrowing shoes to walk to Loreto and back felt like a joke to him, and he didn’t appreciate it. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to say no, so he gave him a pretty decent pair that he had patched up well to sell, but he didn’t expect to see them again.

Giuseppe Labre took the shoes and went to Loreto, and when he came back his first call was at the cobbler’s shed; and sure enough he brought the shoes none the worse for all the wear they had had. So perfectly uninjured were they that the cobbler would have thought they were another pair had it not been that he recognised the patches of his own clumsy work.

Giuseppe Labre took the shoes and went to Loreto, and when he came back, his first stop was at the cobbler’s workshop. Sure enough, he returned with the shoes still in great condition despite all the wear they had experienced. They were so perfectly intact that the cobbler would have thought they were a different pair if he hadn’t recognized the patches from his own rough handiwork.

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3

Another more matter-of-fact account of this story was that he did not wear the shoes on the journey, as he did that barefoot, i.e. with wooden sandals, and only borrowed the shoes to be decent and reverent in visiting the Sanctuary. In this case the story was told me to illustrate his conscientiousness both in punctually returning the shoes and in taking so much care of his trust. [254]

Another more straightforward version of this story is that he didn't wear the shoes during the journey; he walked barefoot, wearing wooden sandals, and only borrowed the shoes to show respect when visiting the Sanctuary. In this case, the story was shared with me to highlight his conscientiousness in promptly returning the shoes and carefully looking after his responsibilities. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 S. Joseph Labre was born at Boulogne, of parents of the lower middle class, in 1749, and died 1783. He came to Rome on a pilgrimage when young, and remained here the rest of his days, passing his time in prayer and contemplation in the various shrines of Rome. He every year made the pilgrimage to Loreto on foot. He was supported entirely by the alms of the people. ↑

1 S. Joseph Labre was born in Boulogne to lower middle-class parents in 1749 and died in 1783. He came to Rome on a pilgrimage when he was young and stayed here for the rest of his life, spending his time in prayer and meditation at various shrines in Rome. Every year, he made the pilgrimage to Loreto on foot. He was completely supported by the generosity of others. ↑

2 In the Rione Monti are the streets chiefly inhabited by the poor and working classes of Rome. Joseph Labre passed his life in their midst, and they always speak of him with affection, as a hero of their own order. It only needs to go to the Church of the Madonna de’ Monti on the day of his ‘Patrocinio’ to see how popular he is. ↑

2 In the Rione Monti are the streets mostly lived in by the poor and working classes of Rome. Joseph Labre spent his life among them, and they always speak of him with affection, as a hero of their own kind. You only need to go to the Church of the Madonna de’ Monti on the day of his 'Patrocinio' to see how popular he is. ↑

3 The stations of the ‘Way of the Cross’ are arranged round the interior of the Coliseum; and until out-of-door devotions were forbidden by the new Government, the Via Crucis was constantly performed here, led by a Capuchin and by various confraternities, and always well attended. ↑

3 The stations of the 'Way of the Cross' are set up around the inside of the Coliseum; and until outdoor religious activities were banned by the new Government, the Via Crucis was regularly held here, led by a Capuchin and various brotherhoods, and it always attracted a large crowd. ↑

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THE TWELVE WORDS OF TRUTH.1

This is a ‘ritornella,’ the whole being repeated over as each new sentence is added. I remember, years ago, meeting the same in Wiltshire, and then there was this additional refrain to be repeated:

This is a ‘ritornella,’ with the whole thing repeating as each new sentence is added. I remember, years ago, encountering the same in Wiltshire, and then there was an additional refrain to repeat:

‘When want is all the go;

“When desire is all around;”

And it evermore shall be so.’

And it will always be that way.

Then it went on:

Then it continued:

‘I’ll sing you three O;

"I'll sing you three, okay?"

Three O are rivo.’

Three O are lit.

If I remember right, there were no numbers before three-o. Four, were the four Evangelists, and nine, the nine orders of angels, as in the text; but the seventh line was ‘seven are the seven bright stars in the sky,’ and this, taken in connexion with the text, establishes a curious link in popular mythology between the mysterious Seven-branch Candlestick and the Pleïades. Subjoined is a translation of the text.

If I remember correctly, there were no numbers before three—o. Four referred to the four Evangelists, and nine indicated the nine orders of angels, as mentioned in the text; but the seventh line was ‘seven are the seven bright stars in the sky,’ and this, connected to the text, establishes an interesting link in popular mythology between the mysterious Seven-branch Candlestick and the Pleïades. Below is a translation of the text.

‘One, and first, is the Lord God, ever ready to help us.’ (‘Domeniddio’ is a popular way of naming God, like the French ‘le bon Dieu,’ identical with the German ‘unser Herrgott.’)2

‘One, and first, is the Lord God, always ready to help us.’ (‘Domeniddio’ is a common way of referring to God, similar to the French ‘le bon Dieu,’ which is the same as the German ‘unser Herrgott.’)2

‘Two stands for the keys of heaven. There is gold.’ (This would be the literal rendering of this line, but it has manifestly been lamed by bad memory.)3

‘Two represents the keys to heaven. There is gold.’ (This would be the literal interpretation of this line, but it has clearly been weakened by poor memory.)3

‘Three stands for three patriarchs, &c.’4

‘Three stands for three patriarchs, &c.’4

‘Four stands for the four columns which support the world, &c.’5

‘Four represents the four columns that support the world, etc.’5

‘Five stands for the five wounds of Jesus Christ.’6

‘Five represents the five wounds of Jesus Christ.’6

‘Six stands for the six cocks which crowed in Galilee.’7

‘Six represents the six roosters that crowed in Galilee.’7

‘Seven are the seven tapers that burnt in Jerusalem.’ (‘Cantorno’ for cantarono, a vulgar transposition, like ‘hunderd,’ and ‘childern,’ in English; ‘ardorno’ similarly, [255]instead of ‘arderono,’ though ‘arsero’ would be the correct form.)8

‘Seven are the seven candles that burned in Jerusalem.’ (‘Cantorno’ for cantarono, a casual shift, like ‘hunderd’ and ‘childern’ in English; ‘ardorno’ similarly, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]instead of ‘arderono,’ though ‘arsero’ would be the correct form.)8

‘Eight’ stands for the octave of Christ. (Probably in allusion to the ‘octave,’ or eight days’ festival, of Christmas.)9

‘Eight’ stands for the octave of Christ. (Probably referring to the ‘octave,’ or eight days’ festival, of Christmas.)9

‘Nine’ stands for the nine quires of angels.10

‘Nine’ represents the nine choirs of angels.10

‘Ten’ stands for the ten years of Christ. (What ‘ten years’ it is not easy to see.)11

‘Ten’ represents the ten years of Christ. (What ‘ten years’ it is not easy to see.)11

‘Eleven’ stands for the crowning with thorns. (St. Bridget or Sœur Emmerich, in their minute meditations or ‘Revelations’ on the Passion, have fixed a number for the thorns in our Lord’s crown, but I do not remember what they make it; there may be a tradition that it was eleven.)12

‘Eleven’ represents the crowning with thorns. (St. Bridget or Sœur Emmerich, in their detailed meditations or ‘Revelations’ on the Passion, have specified a number for the thorns in our Lord’s crown, but I can't recall what it is; there may be a tradition that it was eleven.)12

‘Twelve’ stands for the Twelve Apostles.13 [257]

‘Twelve’ represents the Twelve Apostles. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__]

1 Le dodici Parole della Verità. ↑

1 The twelve Words of Truth. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Uno e primo è Domeniddio, che sempre c’aiuta.’ ↑

2 ‘The first and foremost is God, who always helps us.’ ↑

3 ‘Due sono le chiavi del cielo, c’è l’oro.’ ↑

3 'There are two keys to heaven, there's gold.' ↑

4 ‘Tre sono tre Patriarchi Abramine, Giacobbe, e Isaache.’ ↑

4 'There are three Patriarchs: Abraham, Jacob, and Isaac.' ↑

5 ‘Quattro sono le quattro colonne che il mondo mantiene; Luca, Giovanni, Marco, e Matteo.’ ↑

5 ‘There are four pillars that hold up the world; Luke, John, Mark, and Matthew.’ ↑

6 ‘Cinque sono le piaghe de Gesù Cristo.’ ↑

6 'There are five wounds of Jesus Christ.' ↑

7 ‘Sei sono i sei galli che cantorno in Galilea.’ ↑

7 'There are six roosters that crow in Galilee.' ↑

8 ‘Sette sono i sette cerini ch’ ardorno in Gerusalemme.’ ↑

8 "There are seven matches that I keep in Jerusalem." ↑

9 ‘Otto è l’ottava di Cristo.’ ↑

9 'Otto is the eighth of Christ.' ↑

10 ‘Nove sono i nove cori degli angeli.’ ↑

10 'There are nine choirs of angels.' ↑

11 ‘Dieci è la diecenna di Cristo.’ ↑

11 'Ten is the tenth of Christ.' ↑

12 ‘Undici è la coronazione di spine.’ ↑

12 'Eleven is the crown of thorns.' ↑

13 ‘Dodici sono i dodici Apostoli.’ ↑

13 'There are 12 Apostles.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

GHOST AND TREASURE STORIES AND FAMILY AND LOCAL TRADITIONS.

[259]

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THE DEAD MAN IN THE OAK-TREE.1

There was a parcel of young fellows once who were a nuisance to everybody in Rome, for they were always at some mischievous tricks when it was nothing worse. But there was one of them who was not altogether so bad as the rest. For one thing, there was one practice of devotion he had never forgotten from the days when his mother taught him, and that was, to say a De Profundis whenever he saw a dead body carried past to burial. But what concerned his companions, was the fear lest he should some day perhaps take it into his head to reform, and in that case it was not impossible he might be led to give information against them.

There was a group of young guys in Rome who were a hassle for everyone because they were always getting into trouble, often causing mischief. However, one of them wasn't as bad as the others. For one thing, there was one habit of devotion he had never forgotten from when his mother taught him, which was to say a De Profundis whenever he saw a dead body being taken for burial. But what worried his friends was the fear that he might one day decide to change his ways, and if that happened, it was possible he could end up ratting them out.

At last they agreed that the best thing they could do was to put him out of the way. Quietly as their conspiracy was conducted, he saw there was something plotting, and determined to be out of reach of their murderous intentions; so he got up early one morning, and rode out of Rome.

At last, they agreed that the best thing to do was to get him out of the way. Even though their conspiracy was kept quiet, he sensed something was up and decided to put some distance between himself and their deadly plans. So, he got up early one morning and rode out of Rome.

On, on, on,2 he went till he had left Rome many miles behind, and then he saw hanging in an oak-tree the body of a man all in pieces, among the branches.

On, on, on,2 he went until he had left Rome far behind, and then he saw a man's body hanging in an oak tree, all in pieces, among the branches.

For a moment he was overcome with horror at the sight; but, nevertheless, he did not forget his good practice of saying a De Profundis.

For a moment, he was filled with terror at the sight; however, he still remembered his habit of saying a De Profundis.

No sooner had he completed the psalm, than one by one the pieces came down from the tree and put themselves together, till a dead man stood before him, all complete. Gladly would he have spurred his horse on and got away from the horrible sight, but he was riveted to the [260]spot, and durst not move, or scarcely take breath. But worse was in store, for now the dreadful apparition took hold of his bridle.

No sooner had he finished the psalm than the pieces came down from the tree one by one and assembled themselves until a complete dead man stood before him. He would have gladly spurred his horse and escaped the horrifying sight, but he was frozen in place, unable to move or barely even breathe. But worse was yet to come, as the terrifying figure grabbed hold of his bridle.

‘Fear nothing, young man!’ said the corpse, in a tone, which though meant to be kind, was so sepulchral that it thrilled the ear. ‘Only change places with me for a little space; you get up in the oak-tree, and lend your horse to me.’

‘Fear nothing, young man!’ said the corpse, in a tone that was meant to be kind but was so eerie that it sent chills down the spine. ‘Just switch places with me for a little while; you climb up into the oak tree, and let me borrow your horse.’

The youth mechanically got off his horse, and climbed up into the tree, while the mangled corpse got on to the horse, and rode away back towards Rome. He had not been gone five minutes when he heard four shots3 fired.

The young man got off his horse and climbed up into the tree, while the injured body got on the horse and rode back toward Rome. He had only been gone for five minutes when he heard four shots fired.

Looking from his elevation in the direction of the sound, he saw his four evil companions, who had just fired their pieces into the corpse which rode his horse, without making it sit a bit less erect than before. Then he saw them go stealthily up to the figure and look at it, and then run away, wild with terror.

Looking from his vantage point toward the sound, he saw his four wicked companions, who had just shot at the corpse on his horse, without making it lean any less upright than before. Then he watched them creep toward the figure, examine it, and then flee in a panic.

As soon as they had turned their backs, the corpse turned the horse’s head round, and trotted back to the oak-tree.

As soon as they turned away, the corpse turned the horse's head around and trotted back to the oak tree.

‘Now, my son,’ said the corpse, alighting from the horse, ‘I have done you this good turn because you said a De Profundis for me; but such interpositions don’t befall a man every day. Turn over a new leaf, before a worse thing happens.’

‘Now, my son,’ said the corpse, getting off the horse, ‘I’ve done you this favor because you said a De Profundis for me; but these kinds of things don’t happen to everyone every day. Make a change for the better, before something worse happens.’

Having said this, the dead body, piece by piece, replaced itself amid the branches of the oak-tree, where it had hung before.

Having said this, the dead body, piece by piece, made its way back among the branches of the oak tree, where it had been hanging before.

The young man got on his horse again, penitent and thoughtful, and rode to a friary,4 where, after spending an edifying life, he died a holy death. [261]

The young man mounted his horse once more, feeling regretful and reflective, and rode to a monastery, where, after living a virtuous life, he passed away peacefully. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Il Morto della Quercia.’ ↑

1 'The Dead Man of the Oak.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Camminò, camminò, camminò;’ see note 6, p. 13. ↑

2 'He walked, he walked, he walked;' see note 6, p. 13. ↑

3 ‘Quattro arquebuzate.’ ↑

3 ‘Four gunshots.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4 ‘Frateria,’ a popular word for a monastery. ↑

4 'Frateria,' a common term for a monastery. ↑

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THE DEAD MAN’S LETTER.1

There was a rich man, I cannot tell you how rich he was, who died and left all his great fortune to his son, palaces and houses, and farms and vineyards. The son entered into possession of all, and became a great man; but he never thought of having a mass said for the soul of his father, from whom he had received all.

There was a wealthy man—I can't even explain how wealthy he was—who passed away and left all his vast fortune to his son, including palaces, houses, farms, and vineyards. The son inherited everything and became influential, but he never considered having a mass said for his father's soul, from whom he had received it all.

There was also, about the same time, a poor man, who had hardly enough to keep body and soul together, and he went into a church to pray that he might have wherewithal to feed his children. So poor was he, that he said within himself, ‘None poorer than I can there be.’ As he said that, his eye lighted on the box where alms were gathered, that masses might be offered for the souls in Purgatory. ‘Yes,’ he said, then, ‘these are poorer than I,’ and he felt in his pocket for his single baiocco, and he put it in the alms box for the holy souls.2

There was also, around that same time, a poor man who barely had enough to survive, and he went into a church to pray for the means to feed his children. He was so poor that he thought to himself, ‘No one could be poorer than I am.’ As he was thinking that, he noticed the box where donations were collected for masses to be said for the souls in Purgatory. ‘Yes,’ he said then, ‘these souls are poorer than I,’ and he reached into his pocket for his single baiocco, placing it in the alms box for the holy souls.2

As he came out, he saw a painone3 standing before the door, as if in waiting for him; but as he was well-dressed, and looked rich, the poor man knew he could have no acquaintance with him, and would have passed on.

As he stepped outside, he noticed a painone3 standing by the door, seemingly waiting for him; but since he was well-dressed and appeared wealthy, the poor man realized he wouldn’t know him and decided to walk on.

‘You have done me so much good, and now you don’t speak to me,’ said the stranger.

‘You’ve helped me so much, and now you’re not talking to me,’ said the stranger.

‘When did I thee much good?’ said the poor man bewildered.

‘When did I ever do you any good?’ said the poor man, confused.

‘Even now,’ said the stranger; for in reality he was no painone, but one of the holy souls who had taken that form, and he alluded to the poor man’s last coin, of which he had deprived himself in charity.

‘Even now,’ said the stranger; for in reality he was no painone, but one of the holy souls who had taken that form, and he mentioned the poor man’s last coin, which he had given up in kindness.

‘I cannot think to what your Excellency4 alludes,’ replied the poor man.

‘I can’t imagine what your Excellency4 is referring to,’ replied the poor man.

‘Nevertheless it is true,’ returned the painone; ‘and now I will ask you to do me another favour. Will you take this letter to such and such a palace?’ and he gave [262]him the exact address. ‘When you get there, you must insist on giving it into the hands of the master of the house himself. Never mind how many times you are refused, do not go away till you have given it to the master himself.’

‘But it’s true,’ replied the painone; ‘and now I need to ask you for another favor. Can you take this letter to a certain palace?’ He gave [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] him the exact address. ‘When you arrive, you have to make sure you give it directly to the master of the house. No matter how many times you’re turned away, don’t leave until you’ve handed it to him personally.’

‘Never fear, your Excellency,’ answered the poor man, ‘I’ll deliver it right.’

‘Don't worry, your Excellency,’ replied the poor man, ‘I'll get it done correctly.’

When he reached the palace, it was just as the painone had seemed to expect it would be. First the porter came forward with his cocked hat and his gilt knobbed stick, with the coloured cord twisted over it all the way down, and asked him whither he was going.

When he got to the palace, it was exactly how the painone had anticipated it would be. First, the doorman approached him, wearing his hat and holding his fancy stick with a gold knob, a colored cord wrapped around it from top to bottom, and asked him where he was headed.

‘To Count so-and-so,’ answered the poor man.

‘To Count so-and-so,’ replied the poor man.

‘All right! give it here,’ said the splendid porter.

‘All right! Hand it over,’ said the fantastic porter.

‘By no means, my orders were to consign it to the count himself.’

‘No way, my orders were to hand it over to the count himself.’

‘Go in and try,’ answered the porter. ‘But you may as well save yourself the stairs; they won’t let such as you in to the count.’

‘Go in and give it a shot,’ replied the porter. ‘But you might as well skip the stairs; they won’t allow someone like you in to see the count.’

‘I must follow orders,’ said the poor man, and passed on.

‘I have to follow orders,’ said the poor man, and walked away.

At the door of the apartment a liveried servant came to open.

At the apartment door, a uniformed servant came to open it.

‘What do you want up here? if you have brought anything, why didn’t you leave it with the porter?’

‘What do you want up here? If you brought anything, why didn’t you leave it with the porter?’

‘Because my orders are to give this letter into the count’s own hands,’ answered the poor man.

'Because I'm instructed to hand this letter directly to the count,' replied the poor man.

‘A likely matter I shall call the “Signor Conte” out, and to such as you! Give here, and don’t talk nonsense.’

‘I’m going to call the “Signor Conte” out, just for you! Hand it over, and stop talking nonsense.’

‘No! into the count’s own hands must I give it.’

'No! I must give it into the count's own hands.'

‘Don’t be afraid; I’ve lived here these thirty years, and no message for the “Signor Conte” ever went wrong that passed through my hands. Yours isn’t more precious than the rest, I suppose.’

‘Don’t be afraid; I’ve lived here for thirty years, and no message for the “Signor Conte” has ever gone wrong that passed through my hands. Yours isn’t more important than the others, I assume.’

‘I know nothing about that, but I must follow orders.’ [263]

‘I don’t know anything about that, but I have to follow orders.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘And so must I, and I know my place too well to call out the “Signor Conte” to the like of you.’

‘And so must I, and I know my place too well to call out the “Count” to someone like you.’

The altercation brought out the valet.

The argument brought out the valet.

‘This fellow expects the “Signor Conte” to come to the door to take in his letters himself,’ said the lackey, laughing disdainfully. ‘What’s to be done with the poor animal?’

‘This guy thinks the “Signor Conte” will come to the door to take his letters himself,’ said the servant, laughing mockingly. ‘What are we supposed to do with this poor thing?’

‘Give here, good man,’ said the valet, patronisingly not paying much heed to the remarks of the servant; ‘I am the “Signor Conte’s” own body servant, and giving it to me is the same as giving it to himself.’

‘Give it here, good man,’ said the valet, condescendingly ignoring the servant's comments; ‘I am the “Signor Conte’s” personal attendant, and handing it to me is like handing it to him directly.’

‘Maybe,’ answered the poor man, ‘but I’m too simple to understand how one man can be the same as another. My orders are to give it to the count alone, and to the count alone I must give it.’

‘Maybe,’ replied the poor man, ‘but I’m too simple to grasp how one person can be the same as another. My instructions are to give it only to the count, and that’s who I must give it to.’

‘Take it from him, and turn him out,’ said the valet, with supreme disdain, and the lackey was not slow to take advantage of the permission. The poor man, however, would not yield his trust, and the scuffle that ensued brought the count himself out to learn the reason of so much noise.

‘Take it from him and throw him out,’ said the valet, with complete disdain, and the lackey quickly took advantage of the order. The poor man, however, refused to give up his trust, and the struggle that followed brought the count himself out to find out the cause of all the commotion.

The letter was now soon delivered. The count started when he saw the handwriting, and was impelled to tear the letter open at once, so much did its appearance seem to surprise him.

The letter was delivered shortly. The count began when he saw the handwriting, and he felt compelled to tear the letter open immediately, as its appearance clearly surprised him.

‘Who gave you the letter?’ he exclaimed, in an excited manner, as soon as he had rapidly devoured its contents.

‘Who gave you the letter?’ he exclaimed excitedly, as soon as he had quickly read through its contents.

‘I cannot tell, I never saw the person before,’ replied the poor man.

‘I can’t say, I’ve never seen that person before,’ replied the poor man.

‘Would you know him again?’ inquired the count.

“Would you recognize him again?” asked the count.

‘Oh, most undoubtedly!’ answered the poor man; ‘he said such strange things to me that I looked hard at him.’

‘Oh, definitely!’ replied the poor man; ‘he said such unusual things to me that I stared at him closely.’

‘Then come this way,’ said the count; and he led him into a large hall, round which were hung many portraits in frames. ‘Do you see one among these portraits that [264]at all resembles him?’ he said, when he had given him time to look round the walls.

‘Then come this way,’ said the count; and he led him into a large hall, where many portraits hung in frames. ‘Do you see any of these portraits that [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]looks like him at all?’ he asked, giving him time to scan the walls.

‘Yes, that is he!’ said the poor man, unhesitatingly, pointing to the portrait of the count’s father, from whom he had inherited such great wealth, and for whom he had never given the alms of a single mass.

‘Yes, that’s him!’ said the poor man, without hesitation, pointing to the portrait of the count’s father, from whom he had inherited such great wealth, and for whom he had never given the charity of a single mass.

‘Then there is no doubt it was himself,’ said the count. ‘In this letter he tells me that you of your poverty have done for him what I with all my wealth have never done,’ he added in a tone of compunction. ‘For you have given alms for the repose of his soul, which I never have; therefore he bids me now take you and all your family into the palace to live with me, and to share all I have with you.’

‘Then there’s no doubt it was him,’ said the count. ‘In this letter, he tells me that you, despite your poverty, have done for him what I, with all my wealth, have never done,’ he added with a tone of regret. ‘For you have given charity for the peace of his soul, which I never have; therefore, he asks me to bring you and your whole family into the palace to live with me and to share everything I have with you.’

After that he made the man and all his family come to live in the palace, as his father directed, and he was abundantly provided for the rest of his life.

After that, he brought the man and his entire family to live in the palace, as his father instructed, and they were well taken care of for the rest of their lives.

[‘I know one of that kind,’ interposed one sitting by. ‘Will you hear it? But mine is true, mine is a real fact, and happened no longer ago than last October;’ and he told me the very names and address of the people concerned with the greatest particularity; this was in January 1873.]

[‘I know someone like that,’ said one of the people sitting nearby. ‘Do you want to hear it? But mine is true, mine is a real story, and it happened just last October;’ and he told me the exact names and address of the people involved with the utmost detail; this was in January 1873.]

1 ‘La Lettera del Morto.’ ↑

1 'The Letter from the Dead.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Bussola,’ a box for alms, &c. ↑

2 ‘Bussola,’ a donation box, etc. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

3 ‘Painone,’ ‘Paino’; a sneering way of naming a well-dressed person. ‘Painone,’ augmentative of the same. ↑

3 ‘Painone,’ ‘Paino’; a mocking term for someone who dresses well. ‘Painone’ is the exaggerated form of the same. ↑

4 ‘Sua Eccellenza.’ The cant form of address of the Roman beggar. ↑

4 'Your Excellency.' The usual way a Roman beggar addresses someone. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE WHITE SOUL.1

The people he had named were a husband and wife, shopkeepers, with a good business. They had taken in a woman, a widow, as they thought, to board with them for life.2

The people he mentioned were a married couple who owned a shop and had a successful business. They had invited a woman, a widow, to live with them for life. 2

The first night after she came the wife suddenly woke up the husband, saying:— [265]

The first night after she arrived, the wife suddenly woke up the husband, saying:— [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘What is it that kneels at the foot of the bed? surely it is a white soul.’

‘What is it that kneels at the foot of the bed? surely it is a white soul.’

‘I see nothing,’ said the husband; ‘go to sleep!’

‘I can't see anything,’ said the husband; ‘just go to sleep!’

The wife said no more, but the next night it was the same thing, and the next, and the next; and she described so sincerely what she saw, and with so much earnestness, that the husband could have no doubt that what she said was true. And as he saw it disturbed her rest, and made her ill, he said:—

The wife said nothing more, but the following night it happened again, and the night after that, and the night after that; she spoke so genuinely about what she experienced, with such intensity, that the husband had no reason to doubt her words. And since he noticed it was affecting her sleep and making her unwell, he said:—

‘If it comes again, to-night, we will conjure it.’

‘If it shows up again tonight, we'll summon it.’

It had been going on almost a month (I told you it happened in October), and it was just the night of All Souls’ day3 that he happened to say this.

It had been happening for almost a month (I mentioned it took place in October), and it was just the night of All Souls’ Day 3 that he happened to say this.

That night, again, the wife woke him with a start—

That night, once more, the wife jolted him awake—

‘There it is,’ she said, ‘the white soul; it kneels at the foot of the bed.’

‘There it is,’ she said, ‘the white soul; it’s kneeling at the foot of the bed.’

The husband said nothing, but following the direction of his wife’s hand, he solemnly bid the apparition depart, in the name of the Most Holy Trinity and the Madonna.

The husband said nothing, but following his wife's gesture, he seriously told the ghost to leave, in the name of the Holy Trinity and the Virgin Mary.

Though he had seen nothing, he, too, now heard a voice, and the voice said that it was her father whom the wife had seen; that it was not well that they should have in the house the woman whom they had taken in to board, for that it was on her account he was now suffering penance. ‘Think of this,’ he said, finally, ‘for I cannot stay to tell you more; for it is the hour of prayer.’4

Though he hadn't seen anything, he too now heard a voice, and the voice said it was her father the wife had seen; that it wasn't right for them to have in the house the woman they had taken in to board, because it was because of her that he was now suffering. "Think about this," he said finally, "because I can't stay to tell you more; it's time for prayer."4

The lighting up of a masked ball could not be compared to the brightness5 which filled the room as the spirit disappeared. And this the husband saw well, though he had not seen the soul.

The lighting up of a masked ball couldn't compare to the brightness5 that filled the room as the spirit vanished. And the husband noticed this clearly, even though he hadn't seen the soul.

The husband and wife thought a good deal of what they had heard; they had never known before of the father’s intimacy with this woman, but they inquired, and found it was even so.

The husband and wife reflected a lot on what they had heard; they had never known before about the father’s close relationship with this woman, but when they asked, they discovered that it was indeed true.

Then the man took into his head to go to one of these new people, what do they call it? spiritismo, magnetismo,6 [266]or whatever it is. He made them call up the spirit of his wife’s father, and he asked if it was he who had appeared at night in the bedroom all the month through, and he said, ‘yes, that it was.’ And he asked him about all the particulars, and he confirmed them all. ‘Then,’ he said, ‘if indeed it was you, give me some sign to-night;’ and he said he would.

Then the man decided to seek out one of these new people, what do they call it? spiritism, magnetism, 6 [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] or whatever it is. He had them summon the spirit of his wife’s father, and he asked if it was him who had been appearing in their bedroom every night for the past month, and he said, ‘yes, it was.’ He asked him about all the details, and he confirmed everything. ‘Then,’ he said, ‘if it really was you, give me some sign tonight;’ and he agreed to do it.

There was a ruler in the chest of drawers in the bedroom, and all through the night there were knocks; now on the ceiling, now on the floor, now on the walls, as if given with that ruler, and we know those ‘spiritismo’ people say the spirits make themselves understood by knocking.

There was a ruler in the bedroom drawer, and all through the night, there were knocks—first on the ceiling, then on the floor, and then on the walls, as if made with that ruler. We know that those ‘spiritismo’ folks say that spirits communicate by knocking.

After that, they sent away their boarder, though at considerable pecuniary loss.

After that, they let their tenant go, even though it cost them a lot of money.

[‘I know a story like that,’ said the first man, ‘and a true one too; it happened in 1848 or 1849.’]

[‘I know a story like that,’ said the first man, ‘and it’s true; it happened in 1848 or 1849.’]

1 ‘L’Anima Bianca.’ ↑

1 'The White Soul.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘A vitalizia’ is an agreement by which persons pay a sum down and are taken in to board for the rest of their lives. ↑

2 A 'vitalicia' is a deal where people pay an upfront amount and are provided room and board for the rest of their lives. ↑

3 ‘La Festa dei Morti,’ November 2. ↑

3 ‘The Day of the Dead,’ November 2. ↑

4 ‘Chè è ora dell’ orazione.’ I give this very quaint idea in the words in which it was told to me. ↑

4 'It's time for prayer.' I'm sharing this rather charming thought using the exact words I heard. ↑

5 ‘Era altro che un festino, il chiarore.’ The lighting up of a theatre for a public masqued ball would naturally be the highest impression of brightness for a poor man in Rome. ‘Altro che’ is his favourite word in the sense of ‘no comparison.’ ‘Altro!’ alone stands for ‘I should think so!’ ‘Isn’t it indeed!’ &c. ↑

5 “It was nothing short of a celebration, the brightness.” The lights coming on in a theater for a public masked ball would definitely be the brightest experience for a poor man in Rome. “Nothing short of” is his favorite phrase meaning “there's no comparison.” Just “nothing!” alone means “I would think so!” or “Isn’t it really!” &c. ↑

6 Since the invasion of September 1870, Rome has been placarded with announcements of mediums who may be consulted on every possible occasion. I give the whole story as it was told me, but I have, of course, no means of knowing how the séance was conducted, and there is every likelihood the man would be so full of the strange occurrence that he would begin by letting out all on which he came to it to seek confirmation. The introduction of these mediums has been welcomed as supplying the means of gratifying that craving after the supernatural which was denied them under the former administration. ‘Witchcraft was forbidden by the former law, therefore we may suppose it was wrong,’ reason the less intelligent and those who wish to be deceived; ‘spiritismo is allowed by the law which rules us to-day, therefore we may suppose it is right;’ and thus we are beginning to see here what Cantù had written of other parts of Italy and Europe: ‘But who will feel the courage to contemn the follies of another age when he sees the absurd credulity of our own, which upon similar manifestations [267]founds other theories.... Recent writers on the subject (see in particular, Allan Kardec, ‘Le Spiritisme à sa plus simple expression,’ ‘Le Livre des esprits,’ &c.), themselves acknowledge that the oracles and pythonesses of old, and the genii, sorcerers, and magicians of later ages, were the predecessors of these mediums. We have therefore come back to that which we ridicule in our ancestors.’ ↑

6 Since the invasion in September 1870, Rome has been filled with announcements about mediums available for consultation on just about every occasion. I’m sharing the whole story as it was told to me, but of course, I have no way of knowing how the séance was conducted, and it’s very likely that the man would be so caught up in the strange events that he would start by revealing everything he came to the session hoping to confirm. The rise of these mediums has been embraced as a way to satisfy the desire for the supernatural that was previously denied under the old administration. ‘Witchcraft was banned by the old laws, so we can assume it was wrong,’ reason those who are less informed and those who want to be misled; ‘spiritismo is permitted under the current laws, so we can assume it is right;’ and thus we are beginning to see here what Cantù noted about other regions of Italy and Europe: ‘But who will have the courage to disregard the follies of a previous age when they observe the ridiculous gullibility of our own, which builds new theories on similar manifestations.... Recent writers on the topic (see especially Allan Kardec, ‘Spiritism in its simplest form,’ ‘The Book of Spirits,’ etc.) acknowledge that the oracles and seers of old, as well as the genies, sorcerers, and magicians of later times, were the predecessors of these mediums. We have thus returned to what we laugh at in our ancestors.’ ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE WHITE SERPENT.1

My story is also of a husband and wife, but they were peasants, and lived outside the gates.

My story is also about a husband and wife, but they were farmers, and lived outside the gates.

‘It is so cold to-night,’ said the husband to the wife, as they went to bed, ‘we shall freeze if we have another night like it. We must contrive to wake before it is light, and go and get some wood somewhere before we go to work, to make a fire to-morrow night.’

‘It’s really cold tonight,’ said the husband to the wife as they got into bed. ‘We’ll freeze if we have another night like this. We need to figure out how to get up before it’s light and find some wood somewhere before we start working, so we can have a fire tomorrow night.’

So they woke very early, before it was light, and went out to get wood.2 The husband stood up in the tree, and the wife down below in a ditch, or hole. As she stood there she saw a great white serpent glide past her. ‘Look, look!’ she cried to her husband; ‘see that great white serpent; surely there is something unnatural about it!’

So they woke up really early, before it was light, and went out to gather wood.2 The husband climbed up into the tree, while the wife stood below in a ditch or hole. As she stood there, she saw a huge white snake glide past her. ‘Look, look!’ she shouted to her husband; ‘check out that massive white snake; there’s definitely something strange about it!’

‘A white serpent!’ answered her husband; ‘what nonsense! Who ever heard of such a thing as a white serpent!’

‘A white serpent!’ her husband replied; ‘what nonsense! Who has ever heard of a white serpent!’

‘There it goes, then,’ said the wife; ‘you can see it for yourself.’

‘There it goes, then,’ said the wife; ‘you can see it for yourself.’

‘I see nothing of the kind,’ said the husband. ‘There are no serpents about Rome this many a long year; and as for a white one, such a thing doesn’t exist.’

‘I don't see anything like that,’ said the husband. ‘There haven't been any snakes in Rome for a long time; and as for a white one, that just doesn't exist.’

While he spoke the serpent went through a hole in the ground. As the husband was so positive, the wife said no more, but they gathered up the wood and went home.

While he was talking, the serpent slipped through a hole in the ground. Since the husband was so sure, the wife didn’t say anything else, but they picked up the wood and went home.

In the night, however, the wife had a dream. She [268]saw an Augustinian friar, long since dead, standing before her, who said ‘Angela! (that was indeed her name) if you would do me a favour listen to me. Did you see a white serpent this morning?’

In the night, however, the wife had a dream. She [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]saw an Augustinian friar, long since dead, standing in front of her, who said, "Angela! (that was indeed her name) if you could do me a favor, listen to me. Did you see a white serpent this morning?"

‘Yes,’ she answered; ‘that I did, though my husband said there was no such thing as a white serpent in existence.’

‘Yes,’ she answered; ‘I did, even though my husband said there’s no such thing as a white serpent.’

‘Well, if you would do me a pleasure, go back to the place where you saw the white serpent go in—not where he came out, but where you saw him go into the earth. Dig about that place, and, when you have dug a pretty good hole, a dead man will start up;3 but don’t be afraid, he can’t hurt you, and won’t want to hurt you. Take no notice of him, and go on digging, and no harm will come to you; you have nothing to be afraid of. If you dig on you will come to a heap of money. Take some of the biggest pieces of gold and carry them to St. Peter’s, and take some of the smaller pieces and carry them to S. Agostino,4 and let masses be said for that dead man. But you must tell no one alive anything about it.’

‘Well, if you could do me a favor, go back to the spot where you saw the white serpent go in—not where he came out, but where you saw him enter the ground. Dig around that area, and when you’ve dug a decent-sized hole, a dead man will emerge;3 but don’t be scared, he can’t hurt you and won’t want to harm you. Ignore him and keep digging, and nothing bad will happen to you; there’s nothing to fear. If you continue digging, you’ll find a stash of money. Take some of the biggest gold pieces and bring them to St. Peter’s, and take some of the smaller pieces and carry them to S. Agostino,4 and have masses said for that dead man. But you can’t tell anyone living anything about this.’

The woman was much too frightened to do what the friar had said, but she managed to keep the story to herself, though it made her look so anxious her husband could not help noticing something.

The woman was way too scared to do what the friar had said, but she managed to keep the story to herself, even though it made her look so anxious that her husband couldn't help but notice something.

The next night the friar came again, and said the same words, only he added: ‘If you are so frightened, Angela, you may take with you for company a little boy, but he must not be over seven, nor under six; and what you do you must tell no one. But you have nothing to fear, for if you do as I have said no one can harm you.’

The next night the friar came back and said the same thing, but he added: "If you’re really scared, Angela, you can bring a little boy with you for company, but he should be no older than seven and no younger than six; and whatever you do, you can’t tell anyone. But you don’t have anything to worry about, because if you follow my advice, no one can hurt you."

For all his assurances, however, she could not make up her mind to go, nor this day could she even keep the story from her husband, for it weighed upon her mind. When he heard the story he said, ‘I’ll go with you.’

For all his reassurance, she still couldn't decide to leave, and that day she couldn't keep the story from her husband because it was weighing on her mind. When he heard the story, he said, 'I’ll go with you.'

‘Ah! if you’ll go, then I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘But how will it be? The friar was so particular that I should [269]tell no one, evil may happen if I take another with me.’

‘Ah! if you’re going, then I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘But how will that work? The friar was so specific that I should [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]not tell anyone; something bad might happen if I take someone else with me.’

‘If there is nothing in the story, there’s nothing to fear,’ said the husband; ‘and, if the story is true, there is a heap of money to reward one for a little fear; so let’s go. Besides, if you think any harm will happen to you for taking me, I can stand on the top of the bank while you go down to the hole, and it can’t be said properly that I’m there, while I shall yet be by to give you courage and help you if anything happens.’

‘If there's nothing in the story, there's nothing to worry about,’ said the husband; ‘and if the story is true, there's a lot of money waiting for just a little bit of fear; so let’s go. Besides, if you think any harm will come to you for bringing me along, I can stay on top of the bank while you go down to the hole. It can't really be said that I’m there, yet I’ll still be nearby to give you courage and help you if anything happens.’

‘That way, I don’t mind it,’ answered the wife; and they went out together to the place, the husband, as he had said, standing by on a bank, and the wife creeping down into a hole. They took also two donkeys with them to bring away the treasure.

‘That’s fine with me,’ the wife replied; and they went out together to the spot, the husband, as he had said, standing by on a bank, and the wife carefully descending into a hole. They also brought two donkeys with them to carry away the treasure.

At the first stroke of the woman’s spade there came such lugubrious cries that she was frightened into running away.

At the first swing of the woman's spade, there were such mournful cries that she got so scared she ran away.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ said the husband; ‘cries don’t hurt!’ So the woman began digging again, and then there came out cries again worse than before, and the noise of rattling of chains, dreadful to hear. So terrified was the woman that she swooned away.

“Don’t worry,” said the husband; “cries can’t hurt you!” So the woman started digging again, and then more cries came out, worse than before, along with the horrible sound of rattling chains. The woman was so terrified that she fainted.

The husband then went down into the hole with what water he could find to bring her to herself, but the moment he got into the hole the spirits set upon him and beat him so that he had great livid marks all over.

The husband then went down into the hole with whatever water he could find to revive her, but as soon as he got into the hole, the spirits attacked him and beat him up, leaving him with large bruises all over.

After that neither of them had the heart to go back to try it again.

After that, neither of them had the courage to go back and try again.

But the woman was in the habit of going to confession to one of the Augustinian fathers, and she told him all. The fathers sent and had the place dug up all about, and thought they had proved there was nothing there; but for all that, it generally happens that when a thing like that has to be done, it must be done by the person [270]who is sent, and anybody else but that person trying it proves nothing at all.

But the woman usually went to confession with one of the Augustinian fathers and shared everything with him. The fathers had the area dug up completely and believed they found nothing there; however, it often turns out that when something like this needs to be done, it has to be done by the person [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] who is assigned to it, and anyone else trying to do it proves nothing at all.

One thing is certain, that when those horrid assassins5 hide a heap of money they put a dead man’s body at the entrance of the hole where they hide it, and say to it, ‘Thou be on guard till one of such a name, be it Teresa, be it Angela, be it Pietro, comes;’ and no one else going can be of any use, for it may be a hundred years before the coincidence can happen of a person just of the right name lighting on the spot—perhaps never.

One thing is clear: when those terrible assassins5 hide a stash of cash, they place a dead body at the entrance of the hole where they conceal it and say to it, ‘You keep watch until someone with a name like Teresa, Angela, or Pietro arrives;’ and no one else can help, because it could be a hundred years before someone with the exact right name shows up—if that ever happens.

‘Yes, yes! that’s a fact; that is not old wives’ nonsense,’6 was the chorus which greeted this enunciation.7

‘Yes, yes! That’s true; that’s not just some old wives’ tale,’ 6 was the response that met this statement.7

[‘I, too, know a fact of that kind which most certainly happened, for I know Maria Grazia to whom it happened well, before she went to live at Velletri,’ said one of them.]

[‘I also know a fact like that which definitely happened, because I know Maria Grazia, to whom it happened, very well, before she moved to Velletri,’ said one of them.]

1 ‘La serpe bianca;’ ‘serpe’ is of both genders, but is most commonly used in the feminine as in the common saying ‘allevarsi la serpe in seno,’ to nurture a serpent in one’s bosom. ↑

1 'The white serpent;' ‘serpe’ can be either masculine or feminine, but it's usually used in the feminine form, like in the saying 'taking in the serpent' which means to nurture a serpent in one’s bosom. ↑

2 ‘Per far legna.’ ‘Fare’ is brought in on all occasions. Bazzarini gives 59 closely printed columns of instances of its various uses; here it means to cut wood for burning; ‘legno’ is wood; ‘legna,’ wood for burning. ↑

2 ‘To gather firewood.’ ‘Fare’ is used in many different contexts. Bazzarini provides 59 densely printed columns showcasing its various meanings; in this case, it refers to cutting wood for fire; ‘legno’ means wood; ‘legna’ refers specifically to wood for burning. ↑

3 ‘S’alzerà un morto.’ ↑

3 "A dead person will rise." __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4 S. Agostino is the favourite with the people of all the churches of Rome. ↑

4 S. Agostino is the favorite among all the churches in Rome. ↑

5 ‘Brutti assassini.’ In a country where the cultus of ‘il bello’ has been so well understood, ‘ugly’ has naturally come to be used as a term of deepest reproach. ↑

5 ‘Ugly murderers.’ In a country where the appreciation of ‘beauty’ is so widely recognized, ‘ugly’ has understandably become a term of the harshest criticism. ↑

6 ‘Si, si, questo è positivo, non è donnicciolara, è positivo.’ ↑

6 ‘Yes, yes, this is good, it’s not donnicciolara, it’s good.’ ↑

7 This kind of spell seems analogous to one of which a curious account is preserved by Menghi (Compendio dell’Arte Essorcista, lib. ii. cap. xl.), which I quote, because it has a local connexion with Rome, and there are not many such. An inhabitant of Dachono in Bohemia, he says, brought his son, a priest, to Rome in the Pontificate of Pius II. (1458–64) to be exorcised, as all relief failed in his own country; a woman whom he had reproved for her bad life had bewitched him, adding, ‘that the spell (maldicio) was imposed on him by her under a certain tree, and if it was not removed in the same way, he could not otherwise be set free; and she would not reveal under what tree it was.’ The spell acted upon him only at such times as he was about to exercise his sacred ministry, and then it impeded his actions, forced him to put his tongue out at the cross, &c. &c. ‘The more earnest the devotion with which I strive to give myself to prayer,’ he said, ‘so much the more cruelly the devil rends me’ (mi lacera). In St. Peter’s, the narrator goes on to say, is a column brought from the Temple of Solomon, by means of which many possessed persons have been liberated, because our Lord had leant against it when teaching there, and it [271]was thought that this might be sufficiently potent to represent the fatal tree. He was brought to it, however, in vain. Being tied to it, and asked to point out the spot where Christ had touched it, the spirit which possessed him replied by making him bite it on a certain spot with his teeth and say, ‘Qui stette, qui stette,’ (here He stood) in Italian, although he did not know a word of the language, and was obliged to inquire what the words he had uttered meant. But the spell, nevertheless, was not got rid of thus. It was then understood that the spirit must be of that kind of which Christ had said ‘he goeth not out except by prayer and fasting;’ and a pious and venerable bishop, taking compassion on the man, devoted himself to prayer and fasting for him all through Lent; and thus he was delivered and sent back to his own country rejoicing. ↑

7 This kind of spell seems similar to a story preserved by Menghi (Compendio dell’Arte Essorcista, lib. ii. cap. xl.), which I mention because it has a local connection to Rome, and there aren't many like it. An inhabitant of Dachono in Bohemia, he says, brought his son, a priest, to Rome during the Pontificate of Pius II (1458–64) to be exorcised, as all help had failed in his own country; a woman he had reproached for her immoral life had cursed him, claiming that the spell (maldicio) was placed on him by her under a specific tree, and if it wasn't removed the same way, he could not be freed; she wouldn’t reveal which tree it was. The spell only affected him when he was about to perform his sacred duties, hindering his actions, forcing him to stick out his tongue at the cross, and so on. "The more sincerely I try to pray," he said, "the more brutally the devil tears me apart" (mi lacera). The narrator continues that in St. Peter’s, there is a column brought from the Temple of Solomon, through which many possessed individuals have been freed, because our Lord leaned against it while teaching there, and it was believed to be powerful enough to represent the cursed tree. However, he was brought to it in vain. Tied to it and asked to indicate the spot where Christ had touched, the spirit possessing him responded by making him bite a certain spot on the column and say, "Qui stette, qui stette" (here He stood) in Italian, even though he didn't know the language and had to ask what the words meant. Nonetheless, the curse wasn't lifted this way. It was then understood that the spirit must be of the kind that Christ said could only be cast out by prayer and fasting; and a pious and respected bishop, feeling compassion for the man, devoted himself to prayer and fasting for him throughout Lent; thus he was freed and sent back to his own country rejoicing. ↑

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THE PROCESSION OF VELLETRI.

Maria Grazia lived in a convent of nuns at Velletri, and did their errands for them. One night one of the nuns who was ill got much worse towards night, and the factor1 not being there, the Superior called up Maria Grazia and said to her,—‘Maria Grazia, Sister Maria such a one2 is so very bad that I must get you to go and call the provost to her. I’m sorry to send you out so late, but I fear she won’t last till morning.’

Maria Grazia lived in a convent of nuns in Velletri and ran errands for them. One night, one of the nuns who was sick got much worse as evening approached, and since the factor1 was not around, the Superior called for Maria Grazia and said to her, “Maria Grazia, Sister Maria such-and-such2 is in very bad shape, and I need you to go and fetch the provost for her. I apologize for sending you out so late, but I’m afraid she won’t make it until morning.”

Maria Grazia couldn’t say nay to such an errand, and off she set by a clear moonlight to go to the house of the provost, which was a good step off and out of the town. All went well till Maria Grazia had left the houses behind her, but she was no sooner in the open country than she saw a great procession of white-robed priests and acolytes bearing torches coming towards her, chanting solemnly. ‘What a fine procession!’ thought Maria Grazia; ‘I must hasten on to see it. But what can it be for at this time of night?’

Maria Grazia couldn't refuse such a task, so she set out in the clear moonlight to go to the provost's house, which was quite a distance away and outside the town. Everything was fine until she left the houses behind her, but as soon as she was in the open countryside, she saw a large procession of white-robed priests and acolytes carrying torches coming toward her, chanting solemnly. “What a beautiful procession!” Maria Grazia thought. “I need to hurry to see it. But what could it be for at this time of night?”

Still she never doubted it was a real procession till she [272]got quite close, and then, to her surprise, the procession parted in two to let her go through the midst, which a real procession would never have done.

Still, she never doubted it was a real procession until she [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] got quite close, and then, to her surprise, the procession split in two to let her pass through the middle, which a real procession would never have done.

You may believe that she was frightened as she passed right through the midst of those beings who must have belonged to the other world, dazed as she was with the unearthly light of the flaring torches; it seemed as if it would last for ever. But it did come to an end at last, and then she was so frightened she didn’t know what to do. Her legs trembled too much to carry her on further from home, and if she turned back there would be that dreadful procession again. Curiosity prompted her to turn her head, in spite of her fears; and what gave her almost more alarm than seeing the procession was the fact that it was no longer to be seen. What could have become of it in the midst of the open field? Then the fear of the good nun dying without the sacraments through her faint-heartedness stirred her, but in vain she tried to pluck up courage. ‘Oh!’ she thought, ‘if there were only some one going the same road, then I shouldn’t mind!’

You might think she was terrified as she walked right through those beings who seemed to be from another world, especially with the blinding light of the flickering torches; it felt like it would never end. But it finally did come to an end, and then she was so scared she didn't know what to do. Her legs shook too much to take her any further from home, and if she turned back, there would be that horrible procession again. Curiosity pushed her to look back, despite her fears; and what alarmed her even more than seeing the procession was that it was no longer in sight. What could have happened to it in the middle of the open field? Then the fear of the kind nun dying without the sacraments because of her cowardice worried her, but she tried in vain to muster up some courage. ‘Oh!’ she thought, ‘if only someone else were on the same path, then I wouldn't mind!’

She had hardly formed the wish when she saw a peasant coming along over the very spot where the procession had passed out of sight. ‘Now it’s all right,’ she said; for by the light of the moon he seemed a very respectable steady-looking peasant.

She had barely thought of the wish when she saw a farmer coming along the exact spot where the procession had disappeared. “Now it’s all good,” she said; because in the moonlight, he looked like a very respectable and reliable farmer.

‘What did you think of that procession, good man,’ said Maria Grazia; ‘for it must have passed close by you, too?’

‘What did you think of that procession, good man,’ Maria Grazia asked; ‘it must have passed really close to you, right?’

The peasant continued coming towards her, but said nothing.

The peasant kept walking towards her but didn't say a word.

‘Didn’t it frighten you? It did me; and I don’t think I could have moved from the spot if you hadn’t come up. I’ve got to go to the provost’s house, to fetch him to a dying nun; it’s only a step off this road, will you mind walking with me till I get there?’

‘Didn’t it scare you? It scared me; and I don’t think I could have moved from the spot if you hadn’t shown up. I need to go to the provost’s house to get him for a dying nun; it’s just a short walk from this road, will you mind walking with me until I get there?’

The peasant continued walking towards her, but answered nothing. [273]

The peasant kept walking towards her but didn't say anything. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Maybe you’re afraid of me, as I was of the procession, that you don’t speak,’ continued Maria Grazia; ‘but I am not a spirit. I am Maria Grazia, servant in such and such a convent at Velletri.’

‘Maybe you’re scared of me, like I was of the procession, which is why you don’t speak,’ Maria Grazia continued; ‘but I’m not a ghost. I’m Maria Grazia, a servant in this and that convent in Velletri.’

But still the peasant said nothing.

But the farmer stayed quiet.

‘What a very odd man!’ thought Maria Grazia. ‘But as he seems to be going my way he’ll answer the purpose of company whether he speaks or not.’ And she walked on without fear till she came to the provost’s house, the peasant always keeping beside her but never speaking. Arrived at the provost’s gate she turned round to salute and thank him, and he was nowhere to be seen. He too had disappeared! He too was a spirit!

‘What a really strange guy!’ thought Maria Grazia. ‘But since he seems to be heading in the same direction, he'll do just fine as company whether he talks or not.’ And she walked on confidently until she reached the provost’s house, the peasant always staying next to her but never saying a word. When she arrived at the provost’s gate, she turned around to greet and thank him, but he was nowhere to be found. He'd disappeared too! He was a spirit as well!

When the archpriest came he had his nephew and his servant to go with him, and they carried torches of straw,3 for it seems in that part of the country they use straw torches; so she went back in good company.

When the archpriest arrived, he brought along his nephew and his servant, and they carried straw torches, 3 since it appears that in that part of the country, straw torches are used. So, she returned in good company.

And Maria Grazia told me that herself.

And Maria Grazia told me that herself.

1 ‘Fattore,’ an agent; a man who attends to the business and pecuniary affairs of a convent. ↑

1 ‘Fattore,’ an agent; a person who manages the business and financial matters of a convent. ↑

2 ‘Suora Maria tale.’ Mary being such a favourite name, it has to be generally qualified by a second name being appended to it by way of distinction. ↑

2 ‘Sister Mary, then.’ Since Mary is such a popular name, it usually needs a second name added for clarification. ↑

3 ‘Fiaccole di paglia.’ ↑

3 'Straw torches.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

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SMALLER GHOST AND TREASURE STORIES AND FAMILY AND LOCAL TRADITIONS.

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1

But the belief in ghosts, though it exists, as we have seen by the above specimens, is by no means generally diffused. ‘No!1 I don’t believe such things,’ is the general reply I have received when inquiring for them. I could not, indeed, help being annoyed with the strongmindedness of an old woman one [274]day, who asserted her contempt for the idea so persistently that she quite ‘shut up’ two others who were inclined to be communicative of their experiences.

But the belief in ghosts, while it does exist—as we've seen from the examples above—is not very widespread. “No! I don’t believe in that stuff,” is the typical response I've gotten when I've asked about it. I couldn't help but get a bit annoyed with a stubborn old woman one [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] day, who dismissed the idea so vigorously that she completely silenced two others who were willing to share their experiences.

‘I’ve often slept in a room where it was said the ghost of a woman who was killed there, walked about with her head under her arm; but I never saw her,’ said I, to set the thing going.

"I've often slept in a room where people said the ghost of a woman who was killed there walked around with her head under her arm; but I never saw her," I said to get the conversation started.

‘Oh! I wouldn’t have done that for the world!’ exclaimed Nos. 2 and 3 together.

‘Oh! I wouldn’t have done that for anything!’ exclaimed Nos. 2 and 3 together.

‘And why not?’ said No. 1. ‘There was nothing to be seen, of course. There are no such things as ghosts!’2

‘And why not?’ said No. 1. ‘There was nothing to see, obviously. Ghosts don’t exist!’2

‘Ah! Some see them and some don’t see them, and you’re one of those who don’t see them. That’s where it is,’ said No. 2.

‘Ah! Some people see them and some don’t, and you’re one of those who don’t see them. That’s where it is,’ said No. 2.

‘Yes,’ added No. 3; ‘I know lots of people who have seen them,’ and she was going on to give examples, but No. 1 put her down.

‘Yes,’ added No. 3; ‘I know a lot of people who have seen them,’ and she was about to give examples, but No. 1 cut her off.

‘Did you ever see one yourself?’ interposed I, to keep the ball rolling.

“Have you ever seen one yourself?” I chimed in to keep the conversation going.

‘Well, yes ... so far that ...’ she began, hesitatingly; but No. 1 broke in again with her vehement iteration that there are no ghosts.

‘Well, yes ... so far that ...’ she started, hesitantly; but No. 1 interrupted again with her strong insistence that there are no ghosts.

‘I know there are, though,’ persisted No. 2; ‘for my mother has told me there is a house....’

‘I know there are, though,’ persisted No. 2; ‘because my mom told me there’s a house....’

‘Here in Rome?’ asked I.

"Is this Rome?" I asked.

‘Yes, here in Rome, where she used to work, where there was a ghost3 that used to pull the bedclothes off anyone who slept in that particular room, and leave him uncovered. As fast as you pulled them over you, the spirit pulled them off again;’ and she imitated the movement with her hands.

‘Yes, here in Rome, where she used to work, where there was a ghost3 that used to pull the bedcovers off anyone who slept in that particular room, leaving them exposed. As soon as you pulled them over you, the spirit would yank them off again;’ and she mimicked the movement with her hands.

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2

‘Oibo!’ interposed No. 1. ‘I’ll tell you what ghosts are. Ghosts are most often robbers, who get people to think they are ghosts, in order to be able to rob in peace. There was a famous one, I remember well, about the year 1830, who used to be called the Ghost of St. John’s,4 because he used to make himself heard in the houses about St. John Lateran. There were several robberies in the same neighbourhood just at the same time, but no one thought of connecting the two things, till at [275]last one bethought him of it, and he laid in wait, pistol in hand, till the ghost came by.

‘Wow!’ interrupted No. 1. ‘I’ll tell you what ghosts really are. Ghosts are usually robbers who try to convince people they are ghosts so they can steal without being noticed. There was a famous case I remember from around 1830 about a guy called the Ghost of St. John’s,4 because he would make noises in the houses near St. John Lateran. There were quite a few robberies happening in that area at the same time, but no one thought to connect the dots until eventually someone did, and he waited with a gun until the ghost showed up.

‘By it came; and “pop!” went the pistol. And there, on the spot, lay the body of one whom the police didn’t see for the first time.

‘By it came; and “pop!” went the pistol. And there, on the spot, lay the body of someone the police had seen before.

‘That’s what ghosts are!’

"That's what ghosts are!"

‘That may have been,’ replied Nos. 2 and 3; ‘but that doesn’t prove that there are no ghosts for all that.’

‘That might be true,’ replied Nos. 2 and 3; ‘but that doesn't prove that there are no ghosts at all.’

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3

‘Ghosts! ghosts! are all in silly people’s own heads!’ exclaimed No. 1. ‘I can tell you of one there was in an old palace at Foligno. No one would sleep there because of the ghosts, and the palace became quite deserted. At last a sportsman,5 who was a relation of mine, said he wasn’t afraid; he would go up there one night, and give an account of it. He went there, pistol in hand. At the time for the ghosts to appear, in through a hole over the window did come a great thing with wings. The sportsman, nothing daunted, fired at it; and, lo and behold, a large hawk6 fell dead on the floor; then another, and another, up to five of them.

‘Ghosts! Ghosts! They’re just in silly people’s heads!’ exclaimed No. 1. ‘Let me tell you about one that was in an old palace in Foligno. Nobody would sleep there because of the ghosts, and the palace became completely deserted. Finally, a sportsman, 5, who was a relative of mine, said he wasn’t scared; he would go there one night and report back. He went in with a pistol. When the time came for the ghosts to show up, a huge thing with wings came flying in through a hole above the window. The sportsman, undeterred, fired at it; and guess what, a large hawk 6 fell dead on the floor; then another, and another, until there were five of them.

‘That’s what ghosts are, I tell you!’

‘That’s what ghosts are, I’m telling you!’

[The following is from another narrator.]

[The following is from another narrator.]

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4

Some friars were going round begging for their convent, when night overtook them in a wood.

Some friars were going around asking for donations for their convent when night fell on them in a forest.

‘What shall we do if any wolves come? I don’t believe there is any habitation in these parts, and there will be no place to run to and no one to help us. We must commend ourselves to the Madonna, and wait the event.’

‘What should we do if wolves show up? I don’t think there’s any settlement around here, and there won’t be anywhere to escape to or anyone to assist us. We need to put our faith in the Madonna and wait for what happens.’

They had scarcely done so when one of them saw a light sparkling through the trees. They thought it came from some woodman’s cottage, and followed its leading; but instead of a cottage they came to a handsome inn. As the door stood invitingly open they went in: a fire blazed on the hearth; a repast was spread on the table; [276]a number of maidens, attired in pure and shining white, flitted about and brought all they wanted. When they had well supped, these led them to a room where was a bed apiece, and in the morning again they gave them breakfast.

They had just done so when one of them noticed a light shining through the trees. They assumed it was coming from some woodcutter's cottage and followed it, but instead of a cottage, they found a nice inn. Since the door was welcomingly open, they walked in: a fire was roaring in the fireplace, a meal was laid out on the table; [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] a group of maidens, dressed in bright white, moved around and provided everything they needed. After they had enjoyed their supper, the maidens guided them to a room with a bed for each of them, and in the morning, they served them breakfast again.

Before they started again, the friars asked the maidens to take them to offer their thanks to the mistress of the house, and they led them into a room where was a most beautiful lady, who inquired kindly if they had been well served and wished them a good journey. Moreover, as they went she gave them a folded paper.

Before they began again, the friars asked the maidens to take them to thank the mistress of the house, and they led them into a room where a very beautiful lady appeared. She kindly asked if they had been well taken care of and wished them a safe journey. Additionally, as they left, she gave them a folded piece of paper.

The friars, unused to be so entertained, were much bewildered, and wondered what lady it could be who lived all alone with her maidens in that wild wood; and they turned back to look at the inn that they might know it again, but it had entirely disappeared, nor was there a vestige of it to be found.

The friars, not used to such entertainment, were quite confused and wondered who the lady could be who lived all alone with her maids in that wild forest; they turned back to look at the inn so they could recognize it again, but it had completely vanished, and there was no trace of it to be found.

Then they opened the folded paper the lady had given them, and by the shining letters within they knew it was the Madonna herself had entertained them.

Then they opened the folded paper the lady had given them, and by the shining letters inside, they realized that it was the Madonna herself who had entertained them.

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5

Another, who didn’t believe there were ghosts to be seen—‘she had heard plenty of such stories, but she didn’t give her mind to such things,’—yet told me, she believed there were treasures hid in countless places,7 but people could seldom get at them; there was always a hailstorm, or an earthquake, or something, which happened to stop them; the Devil wouldn’t let people get at them.

Another person, who didn’t believe in ghosts—“she had heard plenty of stories about them, but she didn’t give it much thought”—still told me that she believed treasures were hidden in countless places, 7 but people could rarely reach them; there was always a hailstorm, or an earthquake, or something else that got in the way; the Devil wouldn’t let people access them.

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6

Another, whose belief in ghosts was doubtful, reckoned she knew various cases to be facts, in which men hid treasures under a spell, that could be removed if a person could devise the counterspell, by hitting, even accidentally, on what the original spell had been.8 [277]

Another person, who was skeptical about ghosts, believed she knew several instances where people hid treasures under a spell that could be broken if someone figured out the counterspell, even if it meant accidentally discovering what the original spell was.8 [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

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7

‘If you want ghost-stories, I can tell them as well as another; but mind I don’t believe such things,’ said another.

‘If you want ghost stories, I can tell them just as well as anyone else; but just so you know, I don’t believe in that stuff,’ said another.

‘Tell me what you’ve heard, then.’

‘Tell me what you’ve heard, then.’

‘Well, I have heard say that there was a woman in the Monti,9 and not so long ago either, who was always finding money about the house, and that too, in places where she knew no one could have put it. The first thing in the morning when she got up she would find it on the floor all about the room. Or if she got up from her work in the middle of the day, though she knew no one had come in, there it would be.

‘Well, I’ve heard that there was a woman in the Monti,9 not too long ago, who kept finding money around her house, and in spots where she was sure nobody could have placed it. The first thing in the morning when she got up, she would find it on the floor all over the room. Or if she got up from her work in the middle of the day, even though she knew no one had come in, there it would be.

‘One day she saw three silver papetti10 on the floor. It wasn’t that there was no silver money ever to be seen, and nothing but dirty paper notes, and half of them false, as it is now o’ days. It was in the time of the Pope, and there was plenty of silver for those who had money at all, but still, to see three silver papetti lying on the floor all of a sudden was a sight for anyone.

‘One day she saw three silver papetti10 on the floor. It wasn’t that silver coins were never found, just that there were a lot of dirty paper bills, and half of them were counterfeit, like today. Back then, during the Pope's time, there was plenty of silver for those who had any money, but still, finding three silver papetti lying on the floor all of a sudden was surprising to anyone.

‘It looked so strange that she hesitated before she picked it up. But at last she made up her mind and took it. No sooner had she done so than a spirit appeared before her, and said, “Come down with me into the cellar and I’ll show you something.”

‘It looked so strange that she hesitated before she picked it up. But at last, she made up her mind and took it. No sooner had she done so than a spirit appeared before her and said, “Come down with me into the cellar and I’ll show you something.”’

‘“No, thank you, sir,” said the woman, not knowing what to do for fear.

“No, thank you, sir,” said the woman, not knowing what to do out of fear.

‘“Nonsense! come down, you shan’t be hurt,” said the spirit.

“Don’t be silly! Come down, you won’t get hurt,” said the spirit.

‘“I’d rather not, sir, thank you,” was all the woman could stammer out.

“I’d rather not, sir, thank you,” was all the woman could manage to say.

‘“You must come! I’ll give you something to make you rich for good and all,” persisted the spirit; and, somehow, she didn’t know how, she felt herself obliged to follow him.

‘“You have to come! I’ll give you something that will make you rich forever,” the spirit insisted; and, for some reason she couldn’t explain, she felt compelled to follow him.

‘Down in the cellar was another spirit awaiting her, [278]and the moment she got down they took her, the one by the head and the other by the feet, and laid her into a coffin11 which stood there all ready on a bier.12 One at each end, they took it up, with the woman in it, and walked round and round the cellar with it, chaunting the “Miserere,” and she was too frightened to call out, much more to attempt to move.

‘Down in the cellar was another spirit waiting for her, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]and the moment she got down there, they grabbed her, one by the head and the other by the feet, and laid her in a coffin11 that was already set up on a bier.12 With one at each end, they lifted it up, carrying her while walking around the cellar, chanting the “Miserere,” and she was too terrified to shout out, let alone try to move.

‘By-and-by they set the bier down, and as she heard nothing more she concluded the spirits were gone; still she durst not move till some few rays of daylight began to peep through; then she summoned up courage to get out of the coffin.

‘Eventually, they set the coffin down, and when she heard nothing more, she assumed the spirits were gone; still, she didn’t dare to move until a few rays of daylight started to peek through; then she gathered her courage to get out of the coffin.

‘When she did so she saw it was all of solid gold, as well as the bier. There was gold enough to have made her rich to the end of her days, but she was so frightened that she wasn’t able to enjoy it, but died at the end of a month; for riches that are got in ways that are not straightforward never profit anyone.

‘When she did this, she saw that everything was made of solid gold, including the bier. There was enough gold to make her wealthy for the rest of her life, but she was so terrified that she couldn’t enjoy it and died a month later; for wealth gained through dishonest means never benefits anyone.

‘That’s the story as it’s told; but I don’t believe those things, mind you.’

‘That’s how the story goes; but I don’t believe that stuff, just so you know.’

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8

‘Ah! I remember, too, when I was quite a girl and lived with my father and mother in a house near Piazza Barberini, I remember one day my little sister Ghisa coming running up out of the cellar crying out there was a spirit which had stood waving its hand, and beckoning to her.

‘Ah! I remember, too, when I was just a girl living with my parents in a house near Piazza Barberini. One day, I recall my little sister Ghisa running up from the cellar, crying that there was a spirit waving its hand and beckoning to her.

‘And when the others went down to see what it was all about, they did find some human bones in a corner of the cellar, and no one knew how they got there. But that didn’t prove that the child had actually seen a ghost.’

‘And when the others went downstairs to see what it was all about, they found some human bones in a corner of the cellar, and no one knew how they got there. But that didn’t prove that the child had actually seen a ghost.’

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9

[The above story of the golden coffin, it will be observed, was told as of a particular district in Rome. Another time, it was [279]told me of a village in the Campagna; the narrator said she knew the name well, but could not recollect it at the moment. In other respects, there were few differences of detail; but the countrywoman was more robust and courageous than the town woman, and this is how she got on.]

[The story about the golden coffin mentioned earlier was set in a specific area of Rome. Another time, I heard about a village in the Campagna; the person telling the story said she knew the name well but couldn’t remember it at the time. In other respects, there weren’t many differences in the details, but the country woman was more strong and brave than the city woman, and this is how she managed.]

‘She was always finding half-pence about the ground where she worked. One day she found a silver piece; as she went to pick it up she saw “One” standing by. “Come with me!” he said; and the countrywoman, not at all afraid, went with him. He led her by solitary ways till he came to a lone empty cottage, when he left her. Quite undaunted, she walked in. There was a large empty room in the midst, all lighted up with ever so many lights.

‘She was always finding pennies on the ground where she worked. One day she found a silver coin; as she went to pick it up, she saw “One” standing nearby. “Come with me!” he said, and the woman, not at all scared, went with him. He led her along quiet paths until they reached a deserted cottage, where he left her. Completely unafraid, she walked in. There was a large empty room in the center, all lit up with lots of lights.

‘“Don’t touch, don’t touch!” screamed an anxious voice. “Touch! touch!” shouted a more gloomy voice. At last she did touch.’

‘“Don’t touch, don’t touch!” yelled an anxious voice. “Touch! touch!” called a more somber voice. Finally, she did touch.’

[‘Touched what?’ asked I; ‘the lights, or the floor, or what?’

[‘Touched what?’ I asked; ‘the lights, the floor, or what?’]

The narrator was posed by the question.

The narrator was asked a question.

‘Oh, I don’t know what she touched. It must be supposed she touched something.’]

‘Oh, I don’t know what she touched. It’s assumed she touched something.’

‘Instantly all the lights went out, and she stood in the strange place in the dark. Still she was not frightened. She had the courage to strike a light. By its means she saw there was now a large coffin in the midst of the room. She went straight up to it and opened it. It was full of money! Waiting till daylight, she took home with her as much as ever she could carry. But she kept her own counsel, and never told anyone, and when she wanted money she went back there and took it.

‘Suddenly, all the lights went out, and she found herself in a strange, dark place. Yet she wasn’t scared. She had the guts to light a match. With it, she saw that there was a large coffin in the middle of the room. She moved right up to it and opened it. It was packed with money! Waiting until morning, she took home as much as she could carry. But she kept it to herself and never told anyone; whenever she needed money, she went back and took some.’

‘But if she never told anyone, how did anyone know the story?’ [280]

‘But if she never told anyone, how did anyone know the story?’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

10

‘This one now is quite true, for Sora Maria (you know who I mean) told me of it, and she knew the woman as well as her own sister.

‘This one is definitely true, because Sora Maria (you know who I mean) told me about it, and she knew the woman just as well as her own sister.

‘This woman lived near the church of S. Spirito de Napoletani—you know it?’

‘This woman lived near the church of S. Spirito de Napoletani—you know it?’

‘Yes, in Via Giulia.’

"Yes, on Via Giulia."

‘Exactly. Well, she used to take in washing to make a little for herself more than what her husband gave her. But he didn’t like her doing it, and was very angry whenever he saw her at it. But as he was out all day at his work, she used to manage to get through with it in his absence pretty well.

‘Exactly. Well, she used to do laundry to earn a little extra for herself beyond what her husband gave her. But he didn’t like her doing it and got really angry whenever he caught her at it. However, since he was gone all day at work, she managed to get it done pretty well while he was away.

‘One day the water would not boil, all she could do. First she got excited, then she got angry. “It isn’t that I care,” she said; “but if my husband comes home and sees what I am doing he’ll be so angry! What will he say! What shall I do! I would give my soul to the devil only to get it boiling in time!”

‘One day the water wouldn’t boil, and that was all she could do. First, she got excited, then she got angry. “It’s not that I care,” she said, “but if my husband comes home and sees what I’m doing, he’ll be so angry! What will he say! What should I do! I’d sell my soul to the devil just to get it boiling in time!”’

‘Scarcely had she said the words when blu, blu, blu! the water began to bubble up in the pot, boiling furiously all of a sudden, and though it was now so short a time before her husband came back, all the work was done and out of sight, and he perceived nothing.

‘Hardly had she finished speaking when blu, blu, blu! the water started bubbling in the pot, boiling like crazy all of a sudden, and even though it was just a little while before her husband came back, everything was done and put away, and he noticed nothing.

‘In the night came a paino,13 and stood in the doorway of the bedroom and beckoned to her; and as she looked she saw that every now and then flames and sparks flew about, out of him.

‘In the night came a paino,13 and stood in the doorway of the bedroom and beckoned to her; and as she looked she saw that every now and then flames and sparks flew about, out of him.

‘At last she could stand it no longer, and she woke her husband and told him all. The husband could see nothing, and tried to quiet her, but she kept crying out, now, “Here he is, here!” and now, “There he is, there!” till at last he was obliged to call the friars of S. Spirito de’ Napolitani to her to exorcise the spirit; and it was very difficult, because she had promised to give her soul to the devil; [281]but it had been thoughtlessly done, and in the end the apparition was got rid of.’

‘Finally, she couldn't take it anymore, so she woke her husband and told him everything. He didn’t see anything and tried to calm her down, but she kept shouting, “Here he is, here!” and then “There he is, there!” Until he finally had to call the friars of S. Spirito de’ Napolitani to come and exorcise the spirit; it was very challenging because she had promised to give her soul to the devil; [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] but it was done without much thought, and in the end, they managed to get rid of the apparition.’

[It so happens, however, that the church of S. Spirito de’ Napolitani is served by secular priests, and not friars.]

[It just so happens, though, that the church of S. Spirito de’ Napolitani is run by secular priests, not friars.]

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

11

‘Here’s another thing I have heard that will do for you.

‘Here’s something else I’ve heard that will work for you.

‘There were two who took a peasant and carried him into the Campagna.’

‘There were two who grabbed a peasant and took him into the Campagna.’

‘What! two ghosts?’

"What! Two ghosts?"

‘No, no! two fellows who had more money than they knew what to do with. They took him into the Campagna and made an omelette very good, with plenty of sweet-scented herbs in it, and made him eat it.

‘No, no! two guys who had more money than they knew what to do with. They took him out to the Campagna and made a really good omelette, loaded with fragrant herbs, and made him eat it.

‘Then they took a barrel and measured him against it, and then another, till they found one to fit, and killed him and filled it up with money, and made a hole in the earth and buried it.

‘Then they took a barrel and measured him against it, and then another, until they found one that fit, and killed him and filled it up with money, and made a hole in the ground and buried it.

‘And they said over it, “No one may disturb you till one comes who makes an omelette with just the same sweet-scented herbs as we have used, and makes it just on the top of this hole. Then, come out and say, ‘This gold is yours.’”

‘And they said over it, “No one can disturb you until someone comes who makes an omelette with the exact same fragrant herbs we've used, and makes it right on top of this hole. Then, come out and say, ‘This gold is yours.’”

‘And, of course, in the ordinary course of things, no one would have thought of making an omelette with just those same herbs, just on the top of that hole. But there was one who knew the other two, and suspected something of what they were going to do, and he went up and hid himself in a tree, and watched all that was done, and heard the words.

‘And, of course, normally, no one would have thought about making an omelette with just those same herbs, right on top of that hole. But there was one person who knew the other two and suspected what they were planning, so he climbed up and hid in a tree to watch everything that happened and listened to what was said.

‘As soon as they were gone he came down and took some nice fresh eggs, and just the same sweet-scented herbs the others had used, and made an omelette just over the hole where he had seen them bury the barrel with the money and the man in it. [282]

‘As soon as they left, he came down and grabbed some fresh eggs and the same fragrant herbs the others had used, and made an omelette right over the spot where he had seen them bury the barrel with the money and the man in it. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘He had no sooner done so than the man came out all whole and well, and said: “Oh, how many years have I been shut up in that dark place” (though he hadn’t been there half-an-hour) “till you came to deliver me! Therefore all the gold is yours.”

‘He had barely finished when the man came out completely fine and said: “Oh, how many years have I been trapped in that dark place” (even though he hadn’t been there for more than half an hour) “until you came to save me! So, all the gold is yours.”

‘Such things can’t be true, so I don’t believe them; but that’s what they tell.’

‘These things can’t be true, so I don’t believe them; but that’s what they say.’

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

12

‘And don’t they tell other stories about there being treasures hid about Rome?’

‘And don’t they tell other stories about treasures hidden all around Rome?’

‘Oh, yes; and some of them are true. It is quite certain that ——’ (and she named a very rich Roman prince) ‘found all the money that makes him so rich bricked up in a wall. They were altering a wall, and they came upon some gold. It was all behind a great wall, as big as the side of a room—all full, full of gold. When they came and told him he pretended not to be at all surprised, and said: “Oh, yes; it’s some money I put away there; it’s nothing; leave it alone.” But in the night he went down secretly and fetched it away,14 and that’s how he became so rich; for his father was a money-changer, who had a table where he changed money in the open street, and my father knew him quite well.’

‘Oh, yes; and some of them are true. It’s a fact that ——’ (and she mentioned a very wealthy Roman prince) ‘discovered all the money that makes him so rich hidden in a wall. They were renovating a wall when they found some gold. It was all behind a massive wall, as big as a room—and it was filled to the brim with gold. When they told him, he acted completely unfazed and said, “Oh, yes; that’s just some money I stashed away there; it’s nothing; just leave it alone.” But later that night, he went down quietly and took it away,14 and that’s how he got so rich; because his father was a money-changer who operated a table in the open street, and my father knew him quite well.’

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

13

‘Then there’s the ——’ (another rich family). ‘They got their money by confiscation of another15 family, generations ago. That’s why they’re so charitable. What they give away in charity to the poor is immense; but it is because they know how the money came into the family, and they want to make amends for their ancestors.’ [283]

‘Then there’s the ——’ (another wealthy family). ‘They made their money by taking it from another15 family, generations ago. That’s why they’re so generous. What they donate to charity for the poor is huge; but it’s because they understand how the money entered the family, and they want to make up for their ancestors.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

[These treasure stories are common everywhere. In Tirol, especially, they abound, and are of two kinds. First, concerning treasure hidden in the earth, arising out of the metal mines that were formerly worked there, and the carbuncles which are still found; and the second, precisely like these, of money walled-up in old houses and castles. A countryman, who saw me sketching the old ruin of Monte Rufiano, on a height not far from the banks of Lake Thrasimene, told me a story about it, just like a Tirolese story, of treasure hidden ever so deep under it, and [284]guarded by twelve spectres, who went about, carrying torches in procession, on a Good Friday.

[These treasure stories are everywhere. In Tirol, they're especially common and come in two types. The first involves treasure hidden underground from the metal mines that were once active there, along with the gems that are still discovered; the second is similar, about money sealed up in old homes and castles. A local man, who saw me sketching the old ruin of Monte Rufiano, located on a height near the shores of Lake Thrasimene, shared a story with me that was just like a Tirolese tale about treasure buried deep beneath it, and [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]protected by twelve ghosts who wandered around carrying torches in a procession on Good Friday.]

Senhor de Saraiva tells me there is a great variety of such stories in Portugal, where the treasures are generally said to have been hidden by the Moors, and are supposed to be buried under a gigantic depth of rock. A place was once pointed out to him, where there were said to be two enormous jars, one full of gold, and the other of boiling pitch. If, in digging, a man came upon the right one, he would be rich enough to buy up the whole world; but if, by ill luck, his spade first reached the other, the pitch would overflow and destroy everyone on the face of the earth; so that no one dared to make the attempt. The people believe that such localities may be revealed to them in dreams. But they must dream the same dream three nights running, and not tell it to anyone. If they tell it, they will find the money all turned to charcoal. Brick boxes of charcoal have frequently been found buried under Roman boundary stones in Portugal, and in this, he thinks, lies the origin of this latter fancy.

Senhor de Saraiva tells me there are many different stories like this in Portugal, where treasures are usually said to have been hidden by the Moors and are believed to be buried deep beneath massive rocks. He was once shown a place where two huge jars were said to be, one filled with gold and the other with boiling pitch. If someone digging happened to find the right jar, they would be rich enough to buy the whole world; but if they accidentally hit the other one first, the pitch would spill out and destroy everyone on Earth, so nobody dared to try. People believe that such locations can be revealed to them in dreams. However, they must have the same dream three nights in a row and not tell anyone about it. If they do share it, they will find all the money turned to charcoal. Brick boxes of charcoal have often been found buried under Roman boundary stones in Portugal, and he thinks this is where this belief comes from.

It is remarkable how many odds and ends of history remain laid up in the memories of the Roman people, like the majolica vases and point-lace in their houses. A great favourite with them is the story of Beatrice Cenci, which they tell, under the name of ‘La bella Cenci,’ with more or less exaggeration of detail.

It’s impressive how many snippets of history stay tucked away in the memories of the Roman people, like the majolica vases and lace in their homes. A big favorite among them is the tale of Beatrice Cenci, which they share, calling her ‘La bella Cenci,’ with varying degrees of embellishment.

‘Do you know the story of “Sciarra Colonna?”’ said an old woman, who seemed scarcely a person likely to know much about such matters.]

‘Do you know the story of “Sciarra Colonna?”’ asked an old woman, who appeared to be someone who wouldn't know much about that sort of thing.

1 ‘Ma che!’ is a very strong and indignant form of ‘No!’ about equivalent to ‘What are you thinking of?’ ‘How can you?’ In Tuscany they say, ‘Che! Che!’ ↑

1 ‘Ma che!’ is a really intense and outraged way of saying ‘No!’ that’s similar to ‘What were you thinking?’ or ‘How could you do that?’ In Tuscany, they say, ‘Che! Che!’ ↑

2 ‘Fantasimi,’ for ‘fantasmi,’ apparitions. ↑

2 ‘Fantasimi,’ for ‘ghosts,’ apparitions. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

3 ‘Spirito.’ ↑

3 'Spirit.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4 ‘Il fantasimo di S. Giovanni.’ ↑

4 'The Ghost of St. John.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

5 ‘Cacciatore’ is a huntsman or sportsman of any kind; but in Rome it designates especially a man of a roving and adventurous class whose occupation in life is to shoot game for the market according to the various seasons, as there are large tracts of country where game is not preserved. ↑

5 ‘Cacciatore’ refers to a hunter or sportsman of any kind; however, in Rome, it specifically describes a man from a wandering and adventurous background whose job is to hunt game for sale in the market according to the different seasons, since there are extensive areas where game is not protected. ↑

6 ‘Falcaccio,’ a horrid, great hawk. ↑

6 ‘Falcaccio,’ a huge, fierce hawk. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

7 Cancellieri (Mercato, § xvi.) mentions the actual finding of such a treasure; or at least of ‘thousands of pieces of gold money, in a hole leading to a drain of the fountain in Piazza Madama, on May 30, 1652, by a boy who had accidentally dropped a toy into this hole.’ One such fact would afford substance to a multitude of such fictions: though they doubtless had their origin in the discovery of mineral wealth. ↑

7 Cancellieri (Mercato, § xvi.) talks about the actual discovery of a treasure; or at least of ‘thousands of gold coins, found in a hole that leads to a drain from the fountain in Piazza Madama, on May 30, 1652, by a boy who accidentally dropped a toy into this hole.’ One such instance would give credibility to many similar stories: although they likely originated from the discovery of mineral wealth. ↑

8 See conversation at the end of the ‘Serpe bianca.’ Further details of a similar nature were given me in connection with a number of brigand stories which I have in MS. ↑

8 Check out the conversation at the end of the ‘Serpe bianca.’ I got more details of a similar kind related to several brigand stories that I have in manuscript form. ↑

9 ‘Monti,’ Rione Monti, the most populous district in Rome. ↑

9 ‘Monti,’ Rione Monti, the busiest neighborhood in Rome. ↑

10 ‘Papetto,’ equal to two pauls; about three halfpence more than a (silver) lira or franc. In use in Rome until the monetary convention with France in 1868. ↑

10 'Papetto,' equivalent to two pauls; about three halfpence more than a (silver) lira or franc. It was used in Rome until the monetary agreement with France in 1868. ↑

11 ‘Cataletto,’ a kind of large roomy coffin, with a hollow wagonheaded lid, in which dead or wounded persons are carried. ↑

11 ‘Cataletto,’ a type of large, spacious coffin with a hollow, wagon-like lid, where dead or injured people are transported. ↑

12 ‘Barretta’ or ‘bara,’ is the bier on which the ‘cataletto’ is carried; but it is most often made all in one, and either word is used for either, as also ‘feretro.’ ‘Aver la bocca sulla bara,’ is ‘to have one foot in the grave.’ ↑

12 ‘Barretta’ or ‘bara’ is the coffin on which the ‘cataletto’ is carried; but it's usually made as one piece, and either term can refer to either, as can ‘feretro.’ ‘Aver la bocca sulla bara’ means ‘to have one foot in the grave.’ ↑

13 ‘Paino,’ see n. 3, p. 264. ↑

13 ‘Paino,’ see note 3, page 264. ↑

14 It must be a very quaint condition of mind which can imagine that a fortune of something like three millions sterling can be quietly removed in secret in gold coin from a cellar to a bedroom in the small hours of the night. But then to persons like the narrator a few pieces of gold seem a fortune. ↑

14 It must be a really strange mindset to think that a fortune of about three million pounds can be quietly transported in secret in gold coins from a basement to a bedroom in the middle of the night. But for people like the narrator, even a few gold coins feel like a fortune. ↑

15 I do not give the names because, though the tradition is probably true enough of somebody, the particular names introduced were decidedly incorrect historically. ↑

15 I won’t name anyone because, even though the story is likely based on someone real, the specific names mentioned are definitely historically inaccurate. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1

SCIARRA COLONNA.

There were two of the Colonna. One was Sciarra; I don’t know the name of the other. They were always fighting against the pope of their time.1 At last they took him and shut him up in a tower in the Campagna, and kept him there till they had starved him to death; and when the people found him afterwards, what do you think?—in his extremity he had gnawed off all the tips of his fingers.

There were two members of the Colonna family. One was Sciarra; I don’t know the name of the other. They were constantly opposing the pope of their time. 1 Eventually, they captured him and imprisoned him in a tower in the Campagna, keeping him there until he starved to death. When the people discovered him later, what do you think? In his desperation, he had gnawed off all the tips of his fingers.

When these two Colonna found they had actually [285]killed a Pope, they got so frightened that they ran away to hide themselves. They ran away to France, to Paris, and at last, when all the money they were able to carry with them was spent, they were obliged to take a place as stablemen in the king’s palace, and they washed the carriages and cleaned down the horses like common men. But they couldn’t hide that they were great lords; the people saw there was something different from themselves about them, and they watched them, and saw that they waited on each other alternately every day at table, and you could see what great ceremony they were used to. Then other things were seen, I forget what now, but little by little, and by one thing and another, people suspected at last who they really were.

When these two Colonna realized they had actually killed a Pope, they got so scared that they ran away to hide. They fled to France, to Paris, and eventually, when all the money they had with them ran out, they had to take jobs as stablemen in the king’s palace, washing the carriages and cleaning the horses like commoners. But they couldn’t hide that they were nobility; people noticed there was something different about them, and they observed how they waited on each other at the table every day, maintaining a level of formality they were accustomed to. Then other things were noticed, though I can’t recall exactly what now, but gradually, through various clues, people started to suspect who they really were.

Then some one went and told the king of France, and he had them called up before him.

Then someone went and told the king of France, and he had them summoned to appear before him.

They came just as they were, in their stable clothes, wooden shoes2 and all.

They arrived just as they were, in their work clothes, wooden shoes2 and everything.

The king sat to receive them in a raised seat hung all round with cloth of gold, and he said:

The king sat to welcome them in an elevated chair surrounded by golden fabric, and he said:

‘Now, I know one thing. You two are hiding from justice. Who you are I don’t know exactly for certain. I believe you are the Colonna. If you confess you are the Colonna, I will make the affair straight for you; but, if you will not say, then I will have you shut up in prison till I find out who you are, and what you have done.’

‘Look, I know one thing. You two are running from justice. I’m not exactly sure who you are, but I think you’re the Colonna. If you admit that you’re the Colonna, I’ll clear this up for you; but if you refuse to say, then I’ll have you locked up until I find out who you are and what you’ve done.’

Then they owned that they were the Colonna,3 and the king sent an ambassador to the Pope that then was, and the thing was arranged, and after a time they came back to Rome. [286]

Then they admitted they were the Colonna, 3 and the king sent an ambassador to the current Pope, and it was settled. After a while, they returned to Rome. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 Litta, ‘Storia delle Famiglie italiane,’ traces that from the beginning the Colonna family was always Ghibeline. The present representatives of the house, however, are reckoned Papalini. ↑

1 Litta, ‘Storia delle Famiglie italiane,’ shows that from the start, the Colonna family has always been Ghibeline. However, the current members of the family are regarded as Papalini. ↑

2 ‘Zoccolo,’ a wooden sandal kept on the foot by a leather strap over the instep. It is worn by certain ‘scalsi’ or ‘barefooted’ friars, hence called by the people ‘zoccolanti.’ The street near Ponte Sisto in Rome, called Via delle Zoccolette, received its name from a convent of nuns there who also wore ‘zoccoli.’ ↑

2 A 'zoccolo' is a wooden sandal that stays on the foot with a leather strap over the instep. It’s worn by some 'scalsi' or 'barefoot' friars, which is why people refer to them as 'zoccolanti.' The street near Ponte Sisto in Rome, called Via delle Zoccolette, got its name from a convent of nuns there who also wore 'zoccoli.' ↑

3 That Sciarra Colonna headed a band of ‘spadassini’ against Boniface VIII., and made himself the tool of Philippe le Bel, is of course true to history, as also that he held him imprisoned for a time at Anagni. The Pontiff’s biographer, Tosti, mentions however only to refute them, ‘le favole Ferretiane,’ to which Sismondi, ‘Storia delle Republiche italiane,’ gives currency, and which embody the floating tradition in the text. ‘Ferreto da Vicenza,’ writes Tosti, ‘narrates that a kind of poison was administered to this great Pontiff, which put him in a state of phrenzy; the servant who waited on him, also, was sent away, and being left alone in the room he is supposed to have gnawed at a stick (in another allusion to the same fable—at page 293—he says, ‘his fingers’ as in the text), and struck his head against the wall so desperately that his white hairs were all stained with blood; finally, that he suffocated himself under the counterpane invoking Beelzebub. But when we think how Boniface arrived at extreme old age, enfeebled with reverses; how, shut up in a room alone, there was no one to be witness to the alleged gnawing and knocking and Satanic invocations, and how that the manner of his death was quite differently related by eye-witnesses, I do not know for whom Sismondi could have thought he was writing when he marred his history by inserting such a fable. What certainly happened, and it is certified by Cardinal Stefaneschi, who was present, and by the Report afterwards drawn up of the acts of Boniface—was, that ‘he was lodged in the Vatican at the time of his death, and breathed his last tranquilly. The bed of the dying Pontiff was surrounded by eight cardinals and by other distinguished persons (Process. Bonif. p. 37, p. 15), to whom, according to the custom of his predecessors, he made confession of faith, affirming, however enfeebled his voice, that he had lived in that faith, and wished to die in it, a Catholic. Consoled with the Viaticum of the Sacraments he gave up his soul to God, weary with the prolonged struggle he had sustained for the rights of the Church, ... thirty-five days after his imprisonment at Anagni’ (vol. ii. p. 286–7). Platina goes into less detail, but also records that he died in Rome (Le vite de’ Pontefici, Venice, 1674, p. 344). The magnanimous stedfastness evinced by Boniface when attacked by Colonna and Nogaret, all abandoned as he was by human aid (detailed by Tosti, p. 276, et seq.), could not but have been succeeded by a grander closing scene than that imagined by Ferreto. Maroni (vi. 17–18) not only narrates that he survived the Anagni affair to return to Rome, but that with great Christian charity he ordered Nogaret, who had been taken prisoner by the Romans in the meantime, to be released from confinement; and [xiv. 283] that he could have had no poison administered to him at Anagni, for all the time he was imprisoned he would eat nothing but eggs on purpose to be proof against it. The best disproof of the story, however, is that given by Tosti (p. 296–7). In the clearing for the rebuilding of the nave of St. Peter’s, 302 years after the death of Boniface, his sepulchre was opened and the grave then revealed the truth. It so happened that his body had scarcely undergone any change, and those who stood by could hence depose that both his head and his hands were quite perfect; [287]there were no marks or blows on the former, and so far from his finger-tips being gnawed, they noticed that the nails even were particularly long. The face also wore a peculiarly placid expression.

3 It's true that Sciarra Colonna led a group of 'spadassini' against Boniface VIII, and that he imprisoned him for a while in Anagni. The Pope's biographer, Tosti, mentions 'le favole Ferretiane' only to dismiss them, which Sismondi references in his 'Storia delle Republiche italiane' and which reflect the common story at the time. Tosti writes, 'Ferreto da Vicenza' claims that a type of poison was given to this great Pontiff, causing him to go mad; the servant attending to him was sent away, and left alone in the room, he reportedly chewed on a stick (in another mention of this fable—on page 293—he states 'his fingers' as in the text), and hit his head against the wall so violently that his white hair was stained with blood; ultimately, he suffocated under the covers while calling on Beelzebub. However, considering how Boniface reached extreme old age, weakened by setbacks; how, locked up alone in a room, there was no one to witness the supposed gnawing and banging and Satanic calls, and how eye-witnesses have told a completely different story about his death, I’m at a loss as to whom Sismondi thought he was writing for when he tarnished his account by including such a tale. What definitely happened, and is documented by Cardinal Stefaneschi, who was there, as well as in the report compiled from the acts of Boniface, is that 'he was staying in the Vatican at the time of his death and passed away peacefully. The dying Pontiff was surrounded by eight cardinals and other prominent individuals (Process. Bonif. p. 37, p. 15), to whom he, following the tradition of his predecessors, confessed his faith, affirming that, though his voice was weak, he had lived in that faith and wished to die as a Catholic. Strengthened by the Viaticum of the Sacraments, he surrendered his soul to God, exhausted from the prolonged fight he had waged for the rights of the Church, ... thirty-five days after his imprisonment in Anagni' (vol. ii. p. 286–7). Platina gives fewer details but also notes that he died in Rome (Le vite de’ Pontefici, Venice, 1674, p. 344). The noble bravery shown by Boniface when attacked by Colonna and Nogaret, abandoned as he was by human support (as detailed by Tosti, p. 276, et seq.), surely deserved a more dignified ending than the one Ferreto imagined. Maroni (vi. 17–18) reports that he not only survived the Anagni incident to return to Rome but also, with great Christian kindness, ordered that Nogaret, who had been captured by the Romans in the meantime, be released from confinement; and [xiv. 283] he could not have been poisoned at Anagni, as during his entire imprisonment he only ate eggs to protect himself against it. The most convincing refutation of the story, however, comes from Tosti (p. 296–7). When clearing for the reconstruction of the nave of St. Peter’s, 302 years after Boniface's death, his tomb was opened, revealing the truth. It turned out that his body had hardly changed at all, and those present observed that both his head and hands were intact; [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] there were no marks or injuries on his head, and far from his fingertips being gnawed, they noted that his nails were even particularly long. His face also wore a uniquely serene expression.

Several contemporary writers cited by Tosti tell, however, that Benedict XI., Boniface’s successor, died of poison believed to have been administered by Sciarra Colonna at the instigation of Philippe le Bel. But unfortunately for the tradition in the text Moroni [xiv. 283], who also mentions this, adds that Sciarra Colonna died in exile as he deserved. The two Cardinals Colonna, however, who had been exiled with the rest of the family, were reinstated by Benedict XI., and Clement V. in 1305 restored the other members of it to their possessions in the Roman States, where they made themselves obnoxious enough during the Papal residence at Avignon, and were as hostile to Rienzi as they had ever been to the Popes. ↑

Several modern writers referenced by Tosti report that Benedict XI, Boniface's successor, died from poison that was believed to have been administered by Sciarra Colonna at the urging of Philippe le Bel. Unfortunately for the tradition in the text Moroni [xiv. 283], who also mentions this, adds that Sciarra Colonna died in exile, which he deserved. However, the two Cardinals Colonna, who had been exiled with the rest of the family, were reinstated by Benedict XI, and Clement V in 1305 restored the other family members to their estates in the Roman States, where they became quite troublesome during the Papal residence in Avignon and remained as hostile to Rienzi as they had ever been to the Popes. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

2

DONNA OLIMPIA.

The vices of the rich are never forgotten by the people, and the traditions that still are current in Rome about Donna Olimpia1 are such that I have had to refuse to listen to them. But I feel bound to mention them here, because it is curious that they should so live on for more than two hundred years (the traditions of Sciarra Colonna, however, are six hundred years old). They have, doubtless, rather gained than lost in transmission. Cardinal Camillo Pamfili, Donna Olimpia’s son, presents one of those rare instances of which history has only five or six in all to record, in which, for the sake of keeping up the succession to a noble or royal house, it has been permitted2 to leave the ecclesiastical state for married life.3 The singularity of this incident has impressed it in the memory of the people, and her promotion of it has contributed to magnify, not only the fantastic element in their narratives, but also the popular feeling against her; thus she is accused of having had a second object in promoting it, namely, to get the place in the pontifical household thus vacated filled by a very simple4 nephew, and thus increase her own importance at the papal court. The pasquinades written about her in her own age were [288]such that Cancellieri5 tells us ‘spies were set, dressed in silk attire, to discover the authors of such lampoons (motti vituperosi).’

The faults of the wealthy are never forgotten by the people, and the stories still shared in Rome about Donna Olimpia1 are such that I've had to refuse to listen to them. However, I feel obligated to mention them here, because it's interesting that they have persisted for more than two hundred years (the stories of Sciarra Colonna, on the other hand, are six hundred years old). They've likely gained rather than lost in transmission. Cardinal Camillo Pamfili, Donna Olimpia’s son, is one of those rare cases—of which history has only five or six—that show a person leaving the clergy for marriage to maintain the lineage of a noble or royal family.2 This unique event has stuck in the collective memory, and her endorsement of it has amplified not just the fantastical elements in their stories but also the public resentment towards her; thus, she is accused of having an ulterior motive for promoting it, namely, to have her very ordinary4 nephew fill the vacated position in the papal household, thereby boosting her own status at the papal court. The satirical verses written about her during her time were so pointed that Cancellieri5 tells us ‘spies were appointed, dressed in fancy clothes, to find out who wrote these lampoons (motti vituperosi).’

1 Donna Olimpia Pamfili, nata Maidalchini, wife of the brother of Innocent X. ↑

1 Donna Olimpia Pamfili, born Maidalchini, wife of the brother of Innocent X. ↑

2 Cancellieri Mercato, § ix. note 7. ↑

2 Cancellieri Mercato, § ix. note 7. ↑

3 He had not, however, been originally intended for the Church; had been General of the Pontifical forces before he was Cardinal, and was only in Deacon’s orders. ↑

3 He wasn’t meant for the Church at first; he had been the General of the Papal army before he became a Cardinal, and he was only a Deacon. ↑

4 His simplicity was the subject of many contemporary mots and anecdotes; e.g. at the time of his elevation to the purple the Pasquin statue had been temporarily lost to view by a hoarding put up for the erection of a neighbouring palace; ‘Marforio’ was supposed to express his condolence for the eclipse of his rival in the following distich:

4 His simplicity was the topic of many witty remarks and stories at the time; for example, when he was promoted to the rank of purple, the Pasquin statue was temporarily obscured by a fence set up for the construction of a nearby palace; 'Marforio' was thought to convey his sympathy for the disappearance of his rival in the following couplet:

‘Non piangere Pasquino

"Don't cry, Pasquino"

Chè sarà tuo compagno Maidalchino.’

Chè will be your companion Maidalchino.

His want of capacity seems however to have been compensated by his goodness of heart. ↑

His lack of ability seems to have been offset by his kindness. ↑

5 Cancellieri Mercato, § viii. As I have been desirous to put nothing in the text but what has reached myself by verbal tradition, I will add some no less interesting details collected by Cancellieri, in this place.

5 Cancellieri Mercato, § viii. Since I wanted to only include information that I've learned through word of mouth, I'll add some equally interesting details gathered by Cancellieri here.

It was at her house in Piazza Navona that Bernini was rehabilitated in his character of first sculptor and architect of his time. ‘Papa Pamfili,’ though only the son of a tailor,6 was yet a patron of art. Highly famed under Urban VIII. the preceding Pontiff, Bernini had been misrepresented by his rivals to Innocent. In an unpublished Diary of Giacinto Gigli, Cancellieri finds that he was taken so seriously ill on St. Peter’s Day, 16417 that his life was for some time despaired of, in consequence of his Campanile—a specimen one of two he had designed for St. Peter’s—being disapproved by the Pope and ordered to be taken down. Another cognate tradition he gives from a MS. Diary of Valerio is, that in digging the foundations for this tower a ‘canale d’acqua’ was discovered deeper than the bed of the Tiber and wide enough to go on it in a boat; Mgr. Costaguti, maggiordomo of his Holiness, told me about it himself, and he had had himself [289]let down to see it. As it had a sandy bottom, it washed away the foundations of the tower, and rendered it impossible to leave it standing. The water came from Anguillara’ (on Lake Bracciano, about 28 miles) ‘and the Pope had the old conduit reconstructed and used the water for many fountains in imitation of Sixtus V.8 He goes on to add an extraordinary account of a Dragon quite of the legendary type, that was found in charge of this water, and was killed, not by a hero or a knight, but, by the labourers working at the conduit.

It was at her house in Piazza Navona that Bernini was restored to his reputation as the top sculptor and architect of his time. "Papa Pamfili," although just the son of a tailor, was still a patron of the arts. Well-known under Urban VIII, the previous Pope, Bernini had been misrepresented by his rivals to Innocent. In an unpublished diary by Giacinto Gigli, Cancellieri finds that he fell seriously ill on St. Peter’s Day, 1641, to the point where his life was feared to be in danger because his Campanile—a model of two he designed for St. Peter’s—was rejected by the Pope and ordered to be removed. Another related story comes from a manuscript diary by Valerio, which mentions that while digging the foundations for this tower, a ‘water channel’ was discovered deeper than the bed of the Tiber and wide enough to navigate in a boat; Mgr. Costaguti, the Pope's majordomo, told me about it himself, and he had been lowered down to see it. Since it had a sandy bottom, it washed away the foundations of the tower, making it impossible to leave it standing. The water came from Anguillara (on Lake Bracciano, about 28 miles away), and the Pope had the old conduit rebuilt and used the water for many fountains, imitating Sixtus V. He also shared an incredible story about a dragon of a legendary type that was overseeing this water, which was killed, not by a hero or knight, but by the laborers working on the conduit.

It was Innocent X.’s ambition to remove the great obelisk (since called ‘Obelisco Pamfilio’) which lay in three pieces in the Circo di Massenzio, near the Appian Way, and to set it up in Piazza Navona. Bernini being, as I have said, in disfavour, other architects were commissioned to offer designs for the work; but the Pope was not satisfied with any of them, and the matter stood over. Meantime Piombino (Niccolò Ludovisi) who had married a niece of the Pope’s, and who was a great friend of Bernini, privately instructed him to send him a model of what he would suggest for the purpose, saying he wanted it for his own satisfaction, lest Bernini should refuse the unauthorised competition. Bernini then produced the elaborate conception which has been so warmly extolled by some and so hastily blamed by others, but which cannot be judged without a prolonged study of all the poetical allegories and conceits it was his intention to embody.

It was Innocent X's goal to remove the great obelisk (now known as ‘Obelisco Pamfilio’) that lay in three pieces in the Circus of Maxentius, near the Appian Way, and to place it in Piazza Navona. Since Bernini was out of favor, other architects were asked to submit designs for the project, but the Pope wasn’t satisfied with any of them, and the matter was put on hold. Meanwhile, Piombino (Niccolò Ludovisi), who had married a niece of the Pope and was a close friend of Bernini, secretly instructed him to send a model of his proposal for the project, stating he wanted it for his own reference, in case Bernini would shy away from the unofficial competition. Bernini then created the elaborate design that has been praised by some and criticized by others, but it cannot be fully appreciated without a thorough examination of all the poetic allegories and ideas he intended to incorporate.

The Pope went to the house of Donna Olimpia in Piazza Navona to dine after the Procession to the Minerva on the Annunciation,9 and she placed the model in a room through which the Pope must pass after dinner. It did not fail to arrest his notice, and he was so much struck with it that he spent half an hour examining it in detail and listening to the explanation of its emblematical devices. At last he exclaimed, ‘It can be by no other hand than Bernini’s! and he must be employed in spite of all that may be said against him!’ From that time Bernini was once more all that he had been before in Rome (Mercato, § ix.). When Innocent saw the great work completed, and the water of the four rivers for the first time gushing from it, he declared to Bernini he had given him pleasure great enough to add ten years to his life; and he sent over to Donna Olimpia for a hundred ‘Doppie’10 to distribute among the workmen. Subsequently he had a medal struck with the inscription Agonalium cruore abluto Aqua Vergine, in allusion to the games of which Piazza Navona is supposed11 to have been the scene, and the ‘Vergine’ aqueduct from which the fountains were supplied. ‘Papa Pamfili’ also restored St. John Lateran, and [290]undertook many other works, but was somewhat hampered by the discontent of the people at the expense, expressed in the following pasquinades:

The Pope visited Donna Olimpia’s house in Piazza Navona to have dinner after the Procession to the Minerva on the Annunciation,9 and she set up the model in a room that he would pass through after dinner. It definitely caught his attention, and he was so impressed that he spent half an hour examining it closely and listening to the explanation of its symbolic features. Finally, he exclaimed, “This can only be the work of Bernini! He has to be involved, regardless of what anyone says against him!” From that moment on, Bernini regained his former standing in Rome (Mercato, § ix.). When Innocent saw the completed masterpiece, and the water from the four rivers gushing from it for the first time, he told Bernini that the joy it brought him was enough to add ten years to his life; he then sent a request to Donna Olimpia for a hundred ‘Doppie’10 to distribute among the workers. Later, he had a medal made with the inscription Agonalium washed with Virgin Water, referring to the games that took place in Piazza Navona and the ‘Vergine’ aqueduct that supplied the fountains. ‘Papa Pamfili’ also restored St. John Lateran and [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]undertook many other projects, but he faced some pushback from the public about the costs, which was expressed through the following pasquinades:

‘Noi volemo altro che guglie e fontane:

‘We want nothing but spires and fountains:

Pane volemo, pane! pane! pane!’

Bread we want, bread! bread! bread!

and

and

‘Ut lapides isti panes fiant!’

'Let those stones become bread!'

To return to Donna Olimpia. One of the pasquinades on her preserved in Cancellieri from Gigli’s diary, refers to an accusation against her, that she had been very liberal both to religious communities and to the people until her brother-in-law12 was made Pope, and that when that object was attained she ceased her bounty. Pasquin wrote upon this, ‘Donna Olimpia fuerat olim pia, nunc impia.’

To return to Donna Olimpia. One of the jokes about her in Cancellieri from Gigli’s diary refers to an accusation that she had been very generous to religious communities and the public until her brother-in-law12 became Pope, and that once that goal was achieved, she stopped her generosity. Pasquin wrote on this, ‘Donna Olimpia used to be pious, now she is impious.’

Another declared that the said brother-in-law ‘Olympiam potius quam Olympum respicere videbatur,’ an accusation he declares to have been invented solely for the sake of punning, and without any truth, on faith of the character given him by his biographers, and of the fact that he was more than seventy-one when raised to the Papacy, and so deformed and ugly that Guido put his portrait under the feet of the archangel in his famous picture of St. Michael. (Mercato, Appendix, n. 4 to N. x.) She was, however, sometimes inexcusable in her haughty caprices, as, for instance, when she invited five and twenty Roman ladies to see a pageant, and then asked only eight of them to sit down to table with her, leaving the remainder ‘mortificate alle finestre;’ and frequently more free than choice in her mots. Her grandchildren seem to have inherited this freedom of speech; Gigli (quoted by Cancellieri, Mercato § xvi. and xx.) records in his Diary that the eldest of them, Giambattista, being asked one day by the Pope, who took great notice of him, if he had seen St. Agnese in Piazza Navona, which he was then building, replied (though only seven years old), ‘I have not seen it yet; but you, if you don’t make haste, won’t live to see it completed.’ It would seem to have been a popular prophecy which the child had caught up, and it so happens that the event bore it out.

Another person claimed that the so-called brother-in-law “seemed to look more to Olympia than Olympus,” an accusation he says was made up just for the sake of a pun, with no truth to it, based on the character given to him by his biographers and the fact that he was over seventy-one when he became Pope, and so deformed and unattractive that Guido placed his portrait beneath the feet of the archangel in his famous painting of St. Michael. (Mercato, Appendix, n. 4 to N. x.) However, she was sometimes inexcusable in her arrogant whims, like when she invited twenty-five Roman ladies to watch a parade but only asked eight of them to sit down at the table with her, leaving the rest “mortified at the windows;” and often her comments were more blunt than tasteful. Her grandchildren seem to have inherited this bluntness; Gigli (quoted by Cancellieri, Mercato § xvi. and xx.) notes in his Diary that the oldest of them, Giambattista, when asked by the Pope, who paid him a lot of attention, if he had seen St. Agnese in Piazza Navona, which he was currently building, replied (even though he was only seven years old), “I haven’t seen it yet, but you, if you don’t hurry, won’t live to see it finished.” It seems to have been a popular saying that the child picked up, and, as it turns out, the event confirmed it.

There is nothing, however, which shows the heartless character of Donna Olimpia more glaringly than her refusal to pay a farthing to bury the Pope, alleging she was ‘only a poor widow!’ and this, though the Pope had not only ‘favoured her so much as to endanger his reputation,’13 but had handed to her all his disposable property on his deathbed. Donna Olimpia so utterly abandoned his body that it was carried down into a lumber-room where workmen kept their tools, and one poor labourer had the charity to buy a tallow candle to burn beside it, and another paid some one to watch it, to keep the mice off which abounded there. Finally, a Mgr. [291]Scotti, his maggiordomo, paid for a coffin of ‘albuccio,’14 and a former maggiordomo, whom he had dispossessed, gave five scudi (returning good for evil) to pay the expenses of burying him. It was not till twelve years later that he had a fitting funeral in S. Maria dell’ Anima.

There’s nothing that highlights Donna Olimpia's heartlessness more than her refusal to spend a penny to bury the Pope, claiming she was “just a poor widow!” This was despite the fact that the Pope had not only “risked his reputation for her,”13 but had also given her all his belongings on his deathbed. Donna Olimpia completely abandoned his body, which ended up in a storage room where workmen kept their tools. One kind laborer bought a tallow candle to place beside it, and another person paid someone to keep watch over it to fend off the many mice in the area. Eventually, a Mgr. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]Scotti, his steward, paid for a coffin made of ‘albuccio,’14 and a former steward he had replaced contributed five scudi (returning good for evil) to cover the burial expenses. It wasn't until twelve years later that he received a proper funeral at S. Maria dell’ Anima.

When a few months after Innocent’s death Donna Olimpia endeavoured to put herself on her old footing at the Vatican Court, by sending a valuable present of some gold vases to Alexander VII., that Pope testified his appreciation of her by returning her offering; adding the message that she was not to take the trouble to visit his palace, as it was no place for women.15 There was subsequently some angry correspondence between her and this Pope concerning the delays occasioned by her parsimony in completing the church in Piazza Navona, and the consequent obstruction of the Piazza, a great inconvenience to the public on account of its use as a market-place. Finally he banished her from Rome, fixing her residence at Orvieto, where she fell a victim to the plague two years after.

When a few months had passed since Innocent’s death, Donna Olimpia tried to regain her former status at the Vatican Court by sending a valuable gift of gold vases to Alexander VII. In response, the Pope expressed his disapproval by returning her gift and stating that she shouldn't bother visiting his palace since it wasn't a place for women. There was then some heated correspondence between her and the Pope about the delays caused by her stinginess in finishing the church in Piazza Navona, which led to obstructing the Piazza—a major hassle for the public since it was used as a market. Ultimately, he exiled her from Rome, designating Orvieto as her residence, where she fell victim to the plague two years later.

Her palace in Piazza Navona became in 1695 the residence of Lord Castlemaine, ambassador of James II. to the Holy See. He had an ox roasted whole before it, and other bounties distributed to the people on occasion of the birth of ‘The Pretender.’ ↑

Her palace in Piazza Navona became the home of Lord Castlemaine, ambassador of James II. to the Holy See, in 1695. He had a whole ox roasted in front of it and gave out other treats to the people to celebrate the birth of ‘The Pretender.’ ↑

6 A certain Niccolo Caferri was much ridiculed for the spirit of adulation with which he pretended to trace up Innocent X.’s genealogy to Pamphilus, king of Doris, 300 years before the birth of Rome. But the Pope himself was so little ashamed of his origin that Cancellieri tells us he took a piece of cloth for one of his armorial bearings in memory of it. ↑

6 A certain Niccolo Caferri was ridiculed for the way he tried to link Innocent X.’s family tree back to Pamphilus, the king of Doris, 300 years before Rome was founded. However, the Pope wasn’t at all embarrassed about his roots; Cancellieri tells us he even used a piece of cloth as part of his coat of arms to remember it. ↑

7 This date, however, must be incorrect, as Innocent X. only began to reign in 1644. This grandiose Campanile is described at length, and a plate of it given in Fontana, ‘Descrizione del tempio Vaticano,’ p. 262, et seq. It was 360 ft. in height. ↑

7 This date must be wrong since Innocent X only started his reign in 1644. The impressive Campanile is discussed in detail, with an illustration of it included in Fontana's ‘Description of the Vatican Temple,’ p. 262, et seq. It stood 360 ft. tall. ↑

8 He does not specify what pope, and the wording used seems to imply Innocent X., but this aqueduct is always ascribed to Paul V., twenty years earlier, and is called the Acqua Paola. ↑

8 He doesn't specify which pope, and the way it's phrased suggests Innocent X., but this aqueduct is always credited to Paul V., twenty years earlier, and is known as the Acqua Paola. ↑

9 Described in Cancellieri, ‘Descrizione delle Cappelle Ponteficie,’ cap. x. ↑

9 See Cancellieri, ‘Description of the Papal Chapels,’ ch. x. ↑

10 In Melchiorri’s table of Roman moneys he gives the value (in 1758, a hundred years later) of a doppio as 4 scudi 40 bajocchi; and of a doppia at 6 scudi, 42 bajocchi. It appears to be the latter the Pope sent for. ↑

10 In Melchiorri’s table of Roman currency, he lists the value (in 1758, a hundred years later) of a doppio as 4 scudi 40 bajocchi, and a doppia as 6 scudi, 42 bajocchi. It seems to be the latter that the Pope requested. ↑

11 Dyer says it was the Stadium of Domitian, and Becker, that there is no proof it was ever a circus. ↑

11 Dyer states that it was the Stadium of Domitian, and Becker argues that there is no evidence it was ever a circus. ↑

12 Cancellieri calls Innocent her cognato, and cognato in common conversation now is used for a cousin. Bazzarini explains it as ‘any relationship by marriage.’ ↑

12 Cancellieri refers to Innocent as her cognato, and nowadays, people commonly use cognato to mean cousin. Bazzarini defines it as ‘any relationship by marriage.’ ↑

13 MS. life of his successor Alex. VII. by Card. Pallavicini, quoted by Novaes: Storia de’ Sommi Pontefici, x. 61. ↑

13 MS. life of his successor Alex. VII. by Card. Pallavicini, quoted by Novaes: Storia de’ Sommi Pontefici, x. 61. ↑

14 Nothing better than deal, I believe. ↑

14 I don't think there's anything better than a good deal. ↑

15 Mercato, § xxi. ↑

15 Marketplace, § xxi. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE MUNIFICENCE OF PRINCE BORGHESE.

[If the Romans remember the vices of their princely families, they are proud of storing up the memory of their virtues too; and the following narrative was told me with great enthusiasm.]

[If the Romans remember the flaws of their royal families, they are proud to preserve the memory of their virtues as well; and the following story was shared with me with great enthusiasm.]

Liberality is a distinguishing characteristic of the Borghese family. It was always a matter of emulation who should get taken into their service, and no one who was once placed there ever let himself be sent away again, it was too good a thing to lose.

Liberality is a defining trait of the Borghese family. It was always a competition to see who could get hired by them, and once someone was accepted, they never wanted to leave because it was too great of an opportunity to give up.

There was a man-servant, however, once who gave the Prince, I think it was the father of this one, an insolent answer, and he turned him off.

There was a servant, though, who once gave the Prince— I think it was this one's father— a disrespectful reply, and the Prince dismissed him.

No one would take that man. Wherever he applied, when they asked him, ‘Where have you lived?’ and he answered, ‘in casa Borghese,’ everyone answered, ‘Oh, if you couldn’t live with Borghese, I’m sure I’ve nothing [292]better to offer you!’ and the door was shut in his face. It wasn’t in one place or two, but everywhere, Borghese’s character is so well known in Rome. As he couldn’t get a place, however, he was reduced to near starvation, and he had a wife and six children, all with nothing to eat. Every article of furniture went to the Monte di Pietà, and almost every article of clothing; and yet hunger stared them in the face.

No one would hire that man. Wherever he applied, when they asked him, ‘Where have you lived?’ and he replied, ‘in casa Borghese,’ everyone responded, ‘Oh, if you couldn’t live with Borghese, I’m sure I’ve got nothing [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]better to offer you!’ and they would slam the door in his face. It wasn’t just one place or two, but everywhere, Borghese’s reputation is so well-known in Rome. Since he couldn’t find a job, he was down to nearly starving, and he had a wife and six kids, all with nothing to eat. Every piece of furniture went to the pawn shop, and almost every item of clothing; and yet hunger was staring them right in the face.

Then the man got desperate, and he went out one night and waited for Borghese in a lonely street in the dark, with a knife in his hand, and said, ‘Your purse!’

Then the man became desperate, and one night he went out and waited for Borghese on a quiet dark street, holding a knife in his hand, and said, ‘Give me your wallet!’

Borghese thought he had a gang behind him, round the corner, and handed him his purse. But the man only took out three pauls and gave it back, and he looked so thin and haggard that Borghese could not but notice it, dark as it was, though he had forgotten his face.

Borghese thought he had a group waiting for him around the corner and handed over his purse. But the man only took out three pauls and returned it, looking so thin and worn out that Borghese couldn’t help but notice, even in the dim light, although he had forgotten his face.

‘That is not a thief, he is some poor fellow who wants relief,’ said Borghese to his servant. ‘Go after him and see what he does, but take care not to be seen,’ and he walked home alone. In less than half an hour the servant came back. He had seen him spend the three pauls in food; had seen him take it home to his family; had seen them scarcely covered with rags; had seen the room denuded of furniture; had heard the man say, as he put the food on the table, ‘Here is wherewith to keep you alive another day, and to-morrow I die in sin, for I had to steal it.’

‘That’s not a thief, he’s just a poor guy who needs help,’ Borghese told his servant. ‘Go after him and see what he does, but be careful not to get caught,’ and he walked home alone. Less than half an hour later, the servant returned. He had seen the man spend the three pauls on food; he had seen him take it home to his family; he had seen them barely dressed in rags; he had seen the room stripped of furniture; and he had heard the man say as he put the food on the table, ‘Here’s something to keep you alive another day, and tomorrow I’ll be sinning because I had to steal it.’

Then Borghese called up the steward (Maestro di Casa), and told him to go to the house and find out who the man was, and leave them what was wanted for the night.

Then Borghese called the steward (Maestro di Casa) and told him to go to the house, find out who the man was, and leave them what they needed for the night.

The steward did as he was told, and left a scudo that the man might get a supper without eating stolen food, but without saying who sent him, for he had learnt by his inquiries that he was the servant whom Borghese had sent away. [293]

The steward did what he was asked and left a scudo so the man could have dinner without relying on stolen food, but he didn’t reveal who sent him, as he had found out through his inquiries that he was the servant Borghese had dismissed. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

The next day Borghese sent and clothed all the family; furnished their place again for them; put the children to schools, and gave the parents ten scudi a month. He wouldn’t take the man back, having once had to send him away—for that was his rule—but he gave him a pension for the rest of his life.

The next day, Borghese took care of the entire family; he set up their home again, enrolled the children in schools, and gave the parents ten scudi a month. He wouldn’t rehire the man since he had already let him go—that was his policy—but he provided him with a pension for the rest of his life.

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‘POPE JOAN.’

‘You know, of course, that there was once a Papessa? They have put that in the books, I suppose?’

‘You know, of course, that there was once a female pope? I assume they’ve included that in the history books?’

‘I know there is such a story, but learned writers have proved it was a mere invention.’

‘I know there’s a story like that, but knowledgeable writers have shown it was just an invention.Unfortunately, there are no words or phrases to modernize in your message. Please provide a short piece of text of 5 words or fewer for me to assist you with.

‘Well, I daresay it isn’t true; but there’s no one in Rome who has not heard of it. And what makes them believe it is this.1 Outside of St. Peter’s somewhere there’s a statue of her all among the apostles and saints; and they say it’s because a Pope must have a statue, and they didn’t dare to put hers inside the church, so they put it up outside. And if it isn’t a Papessa, what is a woman’s statue doing there, for it wasn’t the Madonna, that’s certain?’

‘Well, I have to say it's probably not true; but there’s no one in Rome who hasn’t heard about it. And what makes them believe it is this.1 Outside St. Peter’s, there’s a statue of her among the apostles and saints; and they say it’s because a Pope has to have a statue, and they didn’t want to put hers inside the church, so they put it up outside. And if it’s not a Papessa, then what’s a woman’s statue doing there, since it definitely wasn’t the Madonna?’

‘Oh! that’s a statue of Religion, or the Church.2 There never was a woman-pope.’

‘Oh! that’s a statue of Religion, or the Church.2 There has never been a woman pope.’

‘Ah, well! you read books. I dare say you know best; but, anyhow, that’s what they say. And, after all, who knows!’ [294]

‘Oh, well! You read books. I guess you know best; but still, that's what they're saying. And, in the end, who really knows!’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 An argument worthy to take rank beside the famous one of ‘Mrs. Brown’ concerning Noah’s Ark. ↑

1 A debate that deserves to be mentioned alongside the well-known one about ‘Mrs. Brown’ and Noah’s Ark. ↑

2 I said this, really thinking at the moment there was such a statue surmounting the apex of the pediment of the façade; but it afterwards came to mind and I have since verified it on the spot, that the statues on the pediment represent the twelve Apostles with Christ in the centre, and there is no female figure there. Among the numerous statues of saints surmounting the colonnade, are a small proportion of female saints, but no one at all prominent. ↑

2 I mentioned this, truly believing at that moment that there was a statue at the top of the pediment on the front; but later I realized, and I’ve confirmed it in person since then, that the statues on the pediment depict the twelve Apostles with Christ in the center, and there isn't a female figure there. Among the many statues of saints on top of the colonnade, there are a few female saints, but none are especially prominent. ↑

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GIACINTA MARESCOTTI.

There was a prince Marescotti,1 who had two daughters, Cecilia and Giacinta. From her childhood Cecilia had always been gentle and pious, and everyone said, ‘When she grows up she will be a nun.’ Giacenta was proud, handsome, and passionate, and everyone said, ‘She will be a leader of society, and woe betide whoso offends her.’

There was a prince Marescotti,1 who had two daughters, Cecilia and Giacinta. Since she was a child, Cecilia had always been kind and devout, and everyone said, ‘When she grows up, she will become a nun.’ Giacinta was arrogant, beautiful, and fiery, and everyone said, ‘She will be a societal leader, and anyone who crosses her will regret it.’

But their father, good man,2 knew them better, and one day he announced to them the choice of a state of life which he had made for them; for the pious, gentle Cecilia there was a great lord coming from abroad to make her his wife; but the proud, passionate Giacinta was to enter a convent.

But their father, a good man, 2 knew them better, and one day he told them about the life choices he had made for them; for the kind, gentle Cecilia, there was a powerful lord coming from abroad to marry her; but the proud, passionate Giacinta was to enter a convent.

The one was as dismayed as the other at the time, though the event showed he had chosen right. Cecilia, who loved quiet and repose, tenderly entreated her father to let her off the anxieties and responsibilities of becoming the head of a great family, while Giacinta made a great noise3 at the idea of her beauty and talents being laid up hidden in a nun’s cell. Nevertheless, in those days long gone by, girls were used to obey.4 Cecilia married and proved herself an exemplary wife and mother, and carried respect for religion wherever she went.

The one was as upset as the other at the time, but the outcome showed he had made the right choice. Cecilia, who preferred peace and quiet, gently asked her father to spare her from the stress and responsibilities of leading a large family, while Giacinta made quite a fuss about the thought of her beauty and talents being locked away in a nun’s cell. Nevertheless, back then, girls were expected to obey. Cecilia got married and became a wonderful wife and mother, carrying her respect for religion with her wherever she went.

Giacinta, on the other hand, took all her worldly state into her convent with her; her cell was furnished like the drawing-room of a palace, and she insisted on having her maids to wait on her; the other nuns she scarcely spoke to, and treated as the dust under her feet.

Giacinta, on the other hand, brought all her worldly possessions into her convent; her cell was decorated like a palace's living room, and she insisted on having her maids attend to her. She barely spoke to the other nuns and treated them like the dirt beneath her feet.

One day the bishop came to visit the convent. ‘What a smell!’5 he said, as he passed the cell of Giacinta Marescotti.

One day, the bishop came to visit the convent. ‘What a smell!’5 he said, as he walked past Giacinta Marescotti's cell.

‘A smell, indeed! In my cell which is not only the sweetest in the convent, but which is the only one fit to go into!’ exclaimed poor Giacinta in deep indignation. ‘What can you possibly mean by “a smell!”’ [295]

‘What a smell, for real! In my cell, which is not just the sweetest in the convent, but the only one that's actually livable!’ exclaimed poor Giacinta, filled with anger. ‘What do you even mean by “a smell!”’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘A smell of sin!’ responded the bishop; and it was observed that for a wonder Giacinta made no retort.

‘A smell of sin!’ replied the bishop; and it was noted that, surprisingly, Giacinta didn’t respond.

‘A smell of sin,’ said Giacinta to herself, as she sat alone in her elegant and luxurious cell that night. The words had touched her soul and awakened a train of thoughts latent and undisturbed till then. Always hitherto she had ambitioned the loftiest, most refined objects of research, and thought she knew the secret of attaining them. The bishop’s words spoke to her of there being ‘a more excellent way’ yet. They cast a light upon a higher path than that which she was treading, and revealed to her that those who walked along it, lowly as they might seem, could afford to look down upon hers.

‘A smell of sin,’ Giacinta thought to herself as she sat alone in her elegant, luxurious room that night. The words resonated with her and stirred up a whole line of thoughts that had been dormant until now. Until then, she had always aimed for the highest, most refined goals and believed she knew the secret to achieving them. The bishop’s words hinted at ‘a better way’ yet. They shed light on a higher path than the one she was following and showed her that those who traveled it, no matter how humble they seemed, could look down on hers.

She saw that those who despised distinctions were grander than those who courted them, to become, in the end, their slaves; that those who aspired to celestial joys were nobler than those who surrounded themselves with the most exquisite luxuries of earth.6

She realized that people who looked down on social status were greater than those who sought it, ultimately becoming its prisoners; that those who aimed for heavenly bliss were nobler than those who filled their lives with the finest earthly luxuries.6

From that day, little by little,7 Giacinta’s cell grew nearer and nearer to the pattern of the House of Nazareth. The mirror, the cosmetics, and the easy couch made way for the crucifix, the discipline, and the penitential chain.8 From having been shunned as a type of worldliness, she became to her whole order a model of humility and mortification.9 [296]

From that day on, little by little,7 Giacinta’s cell started to resemble the House of Nazareth more and more. The mirror, cosmetics, and comfy couch were replaced by the crucifix, discipline, and penitential chain.8 What was once seen as a form of worldliness turned her into a model of humility and self-denial for her entire order.9 [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 The Marescotti were a noble family of Bologna, the second city of the Pontifical Dominions; there were two cardinals of the name. ↑

1 The Marescotti were an aristocratic family from Bologna, the second largest city in the Papal States; there were two cardinals with that name. ↑

2 ‘Il buon uomo di loro padre.’ ↑

2 'The good man of their father.' ↑

3 ‘Faceva il diavolo,’ lit. ‘raised the devil.’ ↑

3 'He was causing a scene,' lit. 'raised hell.' ↑

4 ‘In quei tempi antichi ubbedirono le figlie, capisce.’ ‘Capisce,’ lit. ‘understand,’ equivalent to ‘you see.’ ↑

4 ‘Back in those ancient times, daughters were obedient, you know.’ ‘You know,’ lit. 'understand,’ which is equivalent to ‘do you see.’ ↑

5 ‘Puzza—puzza di peccato!’ Lit. ‘It stinks—it stinks of sin.’ (See n. 5, p. 13.) ↑

5 ‘It smells—smells of sin!’ Lit. ‘It smells—it smells of sin.’ (See n. 5, p. 13.) ↑

6 I give the story, as near as possible, in the words which the pious faith of the narrator prompted her to use. The success of the final results of a measure may prove that what seemed tyranny was really prudent foresight; the contemporary views of parental responsibility must also be taken into account. But it is impossible for the modern English mind to sympathise readily with so violent an interference with natural instincts. ↑

6 I share the story as closely as I can to the words the faithful narrator chose. The ultimate outcomes of an action might show that what appeared to be tyranny was actually wise planning; we also need to consider today's understanding of parental responsibility. However, it's hard for the modern English mindset to quickly relate to such a harsh disruption of natural instincts. ↑

7 ‘A mano, a mano.’ ↑

7 ‘Hand to hand.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

8 ‘Catenella,’ lit. ‘little chain,’ an instrument of penance worn by some persons on the arm or waist. ↑

8 ‘Catenella,’ literally meaning ‘little chain,’ is a penance tool worn by some people on their arm or waist. ↑

9 The following are briefly the authentic particulars of her life from Moroni, xxx. 194. She was daughter of Marc Antonio Mariscotti and Ottavia Orsini, born in 1535, and baptised by the name of Clarice. Although brought up in the fear of God and led to appreciate holiness, her youth was passed in worldliness and vanity. Her younger sister having been asked in marriage before her, she was so much vexed and annoyed that she became insupportable at home, on which account her father proposed to her to become a nun in the convent of S. Bernardino at Viterbo, where she had been educated, and she adapted herself to his counsel, though without any personal inclination for it. At the end of her noviciate she made her father arrange that she should have a room of her own magnificently furnished. Sister Giacinta lived ten years thus a religious in name but not in mind. Nevertheless she was not without virtue, for she was always obedient to her superior as she had been to her parents; and her modesty, purity, and respect for holy things was observed by all. A serious illness was to her the call of grace; having given up to the abbess of the convent all the things that had been brought in for her use by special privilege, she devoted herself to severe penance and continual meditation. On occasion of a contagious disease with which Viterbo was afflicted, she gave abundant proof of her charity towards her neighbour, for she founded two societies, the object of one of which was to collect assistance for the convalescent and those who had fallen into reduced circumstances; the other to support a hospital built to receive the sick. These two societies, which she called ‘Oblates of Mary,’ still continue (the date of Moroni’s work is 1845) in full activity. ↑

9 Here are the key details about her life from Moroni, xxx. 194. She was the daughter of Marc Antonio Mariscotti and Ottavia Orsini, born in 1535, and baptized as Clarice. Although she was raised to fear God and appreciate holiness, her youth was spent in a world of vanity and superficiality. When her younger sister was proposed to in marriage before her, she became so upset and irritated that she became unbearable at home. As a result, her father suggested she become a nun at the convent of S. Bernardino in Viterbo, where she had been educated. She agreed to his advice, even though she didn't truly want to. At the end of her novitiate, she had her father arrange for her to have a lavishly furnished room. Sister Giacinta lived as a religious for ten years, but her mind wasn’t truly engaged in it. However, she did possess virtues; she was always obedient to her superiors as she had been to her parents. Her modesty, purity, and reverence for sacred things were noted by everyone. A serious illness became her moment of grace; after relinquishing the special privileges granted to her by the abbess, she committed herself to strict penance and constant meditation. When Viterbo faced a contagious disease, she demonstrated great charity by founding two organizations: one to gather aid for those recovering and those who had fallen into hardship, and the other to support a hospital for the sick. These two organizations, which she named ‘Oblates of Mary,’ are still active today (the date of Moroni’s work is 1845). ↑

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PASQUINO.1

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1

‘No, I can’t say I remember any pasquinades, not to repeat; but I know what happened once when they tried to stop them.

'No, I can't say I remember any mocking verses, not to repeat; but I know what happened once when they tried to put a stop to them.'

‘There had been so many one time that the Government put a guard all round about Pasquino to watch and see who did it, but for a long time they saw no one.

‘There were so many instances that the Government placed a guard all around Pasquino to monitor and find out who was responsible, but for a long time, they saw no one.

‘One night, at last, a clownish countryman came by with a bundle of hay on his back, drivelling and half silly. “Let me sit here a bit to rest; I’m so weary with carrying this load I can’t go any farther; but I won’t do any harm.” [297]

‘One night, finally, a goofy country guy showed up with a bundle of hay on his back, talking nonsense and acting a bit silly. “Let me sit here for a moment to rest; I’m so tired from carrying this load I can’t go any further, but I promise I won’t cause any trouble.” [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘The guards laughed at the poor idiot’s simplicity in fancying they could expect such as he to be the author of the witty, pungent sort of wares they were on the search for, and said with contemptuous pity, “Yes, yes; you may sit there!” And the stupid old countryman sat down at the foot of the statue.

‘The guards laughed at the poor fool’s naivety in thinking they could expect someone like him to be the author of the witty, sharp stuff they were looking for, and said with disdainful pity, “Yes, yes; you can sit there!” And the dumb old countryman sat down at the base of the statue.

‘“Heaven reward you for your kindness!” he said, when he got up after half-an-hour’s rest.

“Heaven reward you for your kindness!” he said when he got up after a half-hour rest.

‘“Don’t mention it; go in peace!” returned the guards, and the man passed out of sight.

“Don’t mention it; go in peace!” replied the guards, and the man disappeared from view.

‘Next morning, high over head of Pasquino floated a gay paper balloon.

‘The next morning, a colorful paper balloon floated high above Pasquino.

‘“The balloon! the balloon!” screamed the street urchins.

“The balloon! The balloon!” shouted the kids on the street.

‘“The balloon! the balloon!” shouted a number of men, assembled by preconcerted arrangement, though seemingly passers-by attracted by the noise.

‘“The balloon! The balloon!” shouted several men, gathered by prior agreement, even though they appeared to be random passers-by drawn in by the commotion.

‘The clumsy clodhopper of overnight was an adroit fellow disguised, and he had attached the string of the balloon to the statue.

‘The awkward clodhopper from last night was actually a clever guy in disguise, and he had tied the balloon's string to the statue.

‘To seize the string, pull down the balloon, and burst it was quick work; but out of it floated three hundred and sixty-six stinging pasquinades, which were eagerly gathered up.’

‘Grabbing the string, pulling down the balloon, and popping it was quick work; but from it floated three hundred and sixty-six sharp-tongued criticisms, which were eagerly collected.’

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2

‘Many a time a simple exterior is a useful weapon; but when a man who is really simple pretends to be clever he is soon found out. For another time there had been a pasquinade which so vexed the Government that the Pope declared whoever would acknowledge himself the author of it should have his life spared and five hundred scudi reward.

‘Many times, a straightforward appearance can be an effective tool; but when someone who is genuinely simple tries to act clever, it doesn’t take long for others to see through it. On another occasion, there was a satirical piece that frustrated the Government so much that the Pope announced if anyone admitted to being the author, they would be spared and awarded five hundred scudi.

‘One day a simple-looking rustic came to the Vatican, and said he was come to own himself the author of the pasquinade. As such he was shown in to the Pope. [298]

‘One day, a simple-looking farmer came to the Vatican and claimed he was the author of the pasquinade. Because of this, he was brought in to see the Pope. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘“So you are the author of this pasquinade, are you, good man?”

“So you wrote this satire, huh, good man?”

‘“Yes, Your Holiness, I wrote it,” answered the fellow.

“Yeah, Your Holiness, I wrote it,” replied the guy.

‘“You are quite sure you wrote it?”

‘“Are you absolutely sure you wrote it?”’

‘“Oh, yes, Your Holiness, quite sure.”

‘“Oh, yes, Your Holiness, absolutely sure.”

‘“Take him and give him the five hundred scudi,” said the Pope.

“Take him and give him the five hundred scudi,” said the Pope.

‘An acute Monsignore, who felt convinced the man could not be the author of the clever satire, could not refrain from interposing officially when he found the Pope really seemed to be taken in.

‘A sharp Monsignore, who was sure the man couldn’t be the author of the witty satire, couldn’t help but step in officially when he saw the Pope actually seemed to be deceived.

‘“They have their orders,” said the Pope, who was no less discerning than he.

“They have their orders,” said the Pope, who was just as perceptive as he was.

‘A chamberlain took the man into a room where five hundred scudi lay counted on the table, and at the same time put on a pair of handcuffs.

‘A chamberlain brought the man into a room where five hundred scudi were neatly stacked on the table, and at the same time, he put on a pair of handcuffs.

‘“Halloa now! What is this? It was announced that the man who owned himself the author of the Pasquinade should have his life free and five hundred scudi.”

‘“Hey there! What’s going on? It was stated that the person who claimed to be the author of the Pasquinade would have their life spared and get five hundred scudi.”’

‘“All right; no one is going to touch your life, and there are the five hundred scudi. But you couldn’t imagine that the man who wrote that satire would be allowed to go free about Rome. That was self-evident—there was no need to say it.”

“Okay; no one is going to interfere with your life, and here are the five hundred scudi. But you really thought that the guy who wrote that satire would be allowed to roam free in Rome? That was obvious—no need to mention it.”

‘“Oh, but I never wrote a word of it, upon my honour,” exclaimed the countryman.

“Oh, but I never wrote a word of it, I swear,” exclaimed the countryman.

‘“I thought not,” said the Pope, who had come in to amuse himself with the fellow’s confusion. “Now go, and another time don’t pretend to any worse sins than your own.”’ [300]

“Yeah, I figured as much,” said the Pope, who had come in to enjoy the guy’s confusion. “Now, leave, and next time, don’t pretend you’ve committed any sins worse than your own.” [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

[The ‘Pasquino’ statue was not only the receptacle of the invectives of the vulgar, it often served also to mark the triumphs of the great. The first time it was put to this use was in 1571, on occasion of the triumph of M. A. Colonna, when the parts wanting were restored, and it was clad in shining armour. On various occasions, as a new pope went in procession from the Vatican to perform the ceremony called ‘taking possession’ of St. John Lateran, it was similarly risanato del suo stroppio ordinario (healed of the usual lameness of its members), and made to bear a sword, a balance, a cornucopia, and other emblematical devices, which are given at great length by Cancellieri.

[The ‘Pasquino’ statue wasn’t just a place for the common people's criticisms; it also celebrated the victories of the notable. The first time it was used for this purpose was in 1571 during the triumph of M. A. Colonna, when its missing parts were restored, and it was dressed in shining armor. On various occasions, whenever a new pope went in procession from the Vatican to take possession of St. John Lateran, it was likewise risanato del suo stroppio ordinario (healed of its usual lameness), and it was equipped with a sword, a scale, a cornucopia, and other symbolic items, which Cancellieri describes in detail.]

The opinions of Winkelman, and others, concerning the great artistic merits both of this statue and that called ‘Marforio,’ do not belong to our present aspect of it. Sprenger, ‘Roma nuova,’ says that besides these two there was another statue which used to take part in this satirical converse, namely, that of the Water-seller, with his barrel (commemorative of a well-known, though humble character), opposite the Church of S. Marcello, in the Corso, which the present rulers, ignorant of Roman traditions, removed. The Romans, however, clamoured against its destruction, and it is now replaced round the corner, up the Via Lata.]

The views of Winkelman and others about the significant artistic qualities of both this statue and the one called ‘Marforio’ aren't relevant to our current discussion. Sprenger, in ‘Roma nuova,’ mentions that besides these two, there was another statue that used to participate in this satirical dialogue, specifically the Water-seller with his barrel (commemorating a well-known yet humble figure), located across from the Church of S. Marcello in the Corso, which the current leaders, unaware of Roman traditions, removed. However, the Romans protested its destruction, and it has now been relocated just around the corner, up the Via Lata.

1 The statue called by this name was not originally found in its present situation. The shop of the tailor Pasquino was in the Via in Parione, a turning out of the Via del Governo Vecchio, some little distance off, nor was it discovered at all till after Pasquino’s death. At his time it was buried unperceived in the pavement of the street, and the inequalities of its outline afforded stepping-stones by means of which passengers picked their way through the puddles! Cancellieri (Mercato, appendix, N. iii.)] [299]quotes a passage from a certain Tibaldeo di Ferrara, quoted in a book, his dissertation concerning the author of which is too long to quote. This Tibaldeo, however, says, ‘as the street was being repaired, and I had the shop that was Pasquino’s made level, the trunk of a statue, probably of a gladiator, was found, and the people immediately gave it his name.’ He, however, quotes from other writers mention of other sites for its discovery mostly somewhat nearer to the present situation. The site of the present Palazzo Braschi was then occupied by the so-called Torre Orsini, a building of a very different ground-plan. Cancellieri quotes from more than one MS. diary that at the time the Marquis de Créquy came to Rome as ambassador of Louis XIII. in 1633, the Palazzo de’ Orsini, where he was lodged, was designated as ‘sopra Pasquino.’ And again from another MS. diary, that in 1728, when the palace was bought by the Duca di Bracciano-Odoscalchi, the same designation remained in use. In the Diary of Cracas, under date March 19, 1791, is an entry detailing the care with which the Pasquino statue was removed to a pedestal prepared for it in front of Palazzo Pamfili during the completion of the contiguous portion of the Palazzo Braschi, and its restoration is duly entered on the 14th March of the same year.2

1 The statue known by this name wasn't originally found where it is now. Pasquino's tailor shop was located on Via in Parione, a little off from Via del Governo Vecchio, and it wasn't discovered until after Pasquino had died. Back then, it was buried unnoticed in the pavement of the street, and the uneven parts of its outline served as stepping-stones for people trying to avoid the puddles! Cancellieri (Mercato, appendix, N. iii.)] [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] cites a passage from a certain Tibaldeo di Ferrara, mentioned in a book whose author's details are too lengthy to quote. Tibaldeo states, ‘while the street was being repaired, I leveled the shop that used to be Pasquino's, and we found the trunk of a statue, likely a gladiator, and the people quickly gave it his name.’ He also refers to other writers who mention different locations for its discovery, which are mostly closer to the current site. The area where Palazzo Braschi stands was then occupied by the Torre Orsini, which had a very different layout. Cancellieri quotes from multiple MS. diaries that during the time the Marquis de Créquy arrived in Rome as an ambassador for Louis XIII in 1633, the Palazzo de’ Orsini, where he was staying, was referred to as ‘sopra Pasquino.’ Furthermore, another MS. diary notes that in 1728, when the palace was purchased by the Duca di Bracciano-Odoscalchi, the same name was still in use. In Cracas' Diary, dated March 19, 1791, there's an entry describing how the Pasquino statue was carefully moved to a pedestal set for it in front of Palazzo Pamfili while the adjoining part of Palazzo Braschi was being completed, and its restoration is logged on March 14 of that same year.2

It was Adrian VI. (not Alexander VI. as Murray has it), who proposed to throw it into the Tiber. Adrian VI. was a victim of pasquinades for two reasons,—the first, because born at Utrecht and tutor of Charles V., and afterwards viceroy in Spain, during all Charles’ absence in Germany Rome feared at his election that he would set up the Papal See in Spain; and it is not altogether impossible that the popular satires may have had some influence in deciding him on the contrary to repair immediately to Rome,—the second, because he was an energetic and unsparing reformer; and those who were touched by his measures were just those who could afford to pay the hire of the tongues of popular wags.

It was Adrian VI. (not Alexander VI. as Murray states) who suggested throwing it into the Tiber. Adrian VI. became the target of mockery for two reasons: first, because he was born in Utrecht, served as a tutor to Charles V., and later became viceroy in Spain. During Charles’ time in Germany, people in Rome worried that his election would move the Papal See to Spain. It’s quite possible that the public jokes played a role in prompting him to go to Rome right away. The second reason was that he was a determined and relentless reformer, and those impacted by his reforms were exactly the people who could pay for the mockery of the local jesters.

Nor was it only during his life that he was the subject of such criticisms. When his rigorous reign was suddenly brought to a close after he had worn the tiara but twenty months, on the door of his physician was posted this satire, ‘Liberatori Patriæ S.P.Q.R.’3; and his tomb in St. Peter’s, between that of Pius II. and Pius III., was disgraced with this epitaph: ‘Hic jacet impius inter Pios,’ till some years later, when his body was removed to a worthier monument in S. Maria del Anima. ↑

Nor was it just during his lifetime that he faced such criticism. When his strict rule abruptly ended after he had worn the papal tiara for only twenty months, a sign was posted on the door of his physician reading, ‘Liberatori Patriæ S.P.Q.R.’3; and his grave in St. Peter’s, located between those of Pius II and Pius III, was tarnished with the epitaph: ‘Hic jacet impius inter Pios,’ until several years later, when his remains were moved to a more suitable monument in S. Maria del Anima. ↑

2 There is clearly a typographical error about one of these dates, which could doubtless be corrected by reference to ‘Notizie delle due famose statue di un fiume e di Patroclo dette volgarmente di Marforio e di Pasquino,’ by the same author, Rome, 1789, which I have not been able to see. Moroni, vi. 99, gives 1791 as the year in which it was bought by Duke Braschi, the nephew of Pius VI. while the Pope was in exile in France, and the completion by the rebuilding must, therefore, have been some years later.

2 There's clearly a typo regarding one of these dates, which could easily be fixed by checking ‘News about the two famous statues of a river and of Patroclus, commonly known as Marforio and Pasquino,’ by the same author, Rome, 1789, which I haven't been able to look at. Moroni, vi. 99, states that 1791 was the year Duke Braschi, the nephew of Pius VI, purchased it while the Pope was in exile in France, so the completion after the reconstruction must have happened a few years later.

The date of its discovery is told in the following inscription by the cardinal inhabiting Torre Orsini at the time, and who saved it from destruction:—

The date of its discovery is recorded in the following inscription by the cardinal living in Torre Orsini at the time, who protected it from being destroyed:—

Oliverii Caraffa
Beneficio hic sum
Anno Salvati Mundi—MDI. ↑

Oliverii Caraffa
I benefit here
In the year of our Lord—1501. ↑

3 Giovio; Vit. Hadr. VI. ↑

3 Giovio; Vit. Hadr. VI. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

CÈCINGÙLO.

‘There was one who would have done much better for you than Pasquino; that was Cècingùlo,1 at least that’s the nickname people gave him. There was no end to the number of stories he could tell.

‘There was someone who would have been much better for you than Pasquino; that was Cècingùlo,1 at least that’s what people called him. He had an endless supply of stories to share.

‘In days gone by,2 he used to sit in Piazza Navona of an evening when people had left work and had time to listen, and he would pour them out by the hour. Now and then he stopped, and went round with his hat, and there were few who did not spare him a bajocco.’

‘In the past, 2 he would sit in Piazza Navona in the evenings when people finished work and had time to listen, and he would talk for hours. Occasionally, he would pause and walk around with his hat, and there were few who didn’t give him a bajocco.’

‘Did you ever hear him yourself?’

‘Have you ever heard him yourself?’

‘No; it was before my time, but my father has heard [301]him many’s the time, and many of the stories I have told you are the tales of Cècingùlo. How often I have said to him, “Tell me one of Cècingùlo’s tales, papa!”’3

‘No; it was before my time, but my dad has heard [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] him many times, and a lot of the stories I've shared with you are the tales of Cècingùlo. How often I’ve said to him, “Tell me one of Cècingùlo’s stories, Dad!”’3

1 I have not been able to make out the origin of this name. It is possibly, a mere combination of Cecco, short for Francesco, and a family name, or the name of the village of which he was native which I do not recognise. ↑

1 I haven't been able to figure out where this name comes from. It might just be a mix of Cecco, which is short for Francesco, and a family name, or it could be the name of his hometown that I'm not familiar with. ↑

2 ‘Nei tempi di prima.’ ↑

2 ‘In the old days.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

3 It is very likely Cècingùlo was some generations older even than the narrator’s ‘papa.’ I have thought it worth while to put this much about him on record, as he was doubtless one of those who have given the local colouring to these very tales. The old women whose heads are their storehouse, as they repeat them over the spinning-wheel, say them with no further alteration than want of memory or want of apprehension necessarily occasions. It is the professional wag who, sitting in the midst of the vegetable market amid a peasant audience, will ascribe to a cicoriaro the acts of a paladin, and insert ‘a casino in the Campagna’ in the place of an oriental palace. I have met various people who had heard as much as the above about Cècingùlo, but no more. ↑

3 It's very likely that Cècingùlo was several generations older than the narrator's 'dad.' I thought it was important to record this much about him since he was definitely one of those who added local flavor to these stories. The older women, whose memories act as a repository as they recount these tales over the spinning wheel, tell them with no changes other than the usual gaps in memory or understanding. It's the local jokester who, while sitting in the midst of the vegetable market with a peasant audience, will credit a cicoriaro with the deeds of a hero and replace 'an eastern palace' with 'a casino in the Campagna.' I've encountered various people who knew this much about Cècingùlo, but not anything more. ↑

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THE WOOING OF CASSANDRO.1

‘Did you ever hear of Sor Cassandro?’

‘Have you ever heard of Sor Cassandro?’

‘No, never.’

'No, never.'

‘Do you know where Panìco is?’

‘Do you know where Panìco is?’

‘I know the Via di Panìco2 which leads down to Ponte S. Angelo.’

‘I know the Via di Panìco2 that goes down to Ponte S. Angelo.’

‘Very well; at the end of Panìco3 there is a frying-shop,4 which, many years ago, was kept by an old man with a comely daughter. Both were well known all over the Rione.

‘Very well; at the end of Panìco3 there is a fry shop,4 which, many years ago, was run by an old man with an attractive daughter. Both were well known throughout the Rione.

‘One day there came an old gentleman, with a wig and tights, and a comical old-fashioned dress altogether, and said to the shopkeeper—

‘One day, an old man showed up, wearing a wig and tights, in a funny, outdated outfit, and said to the shopkeeper—

‘“I’ve observed that daughter of yours many days as I have passed by, and should like to make her my wife.”

“I’ve seen your daughter many times as I walked by, and I’d like to make her my wife.”

‘“It’s a great honour for me, Sor Cassandro, that you [302]should talk of such a thing,” answered the old man; and he said “Sor Cassandro” like that because everybody knew old Sor Cassandro with his wig, and his gold-knobbed stick, and his tights, and his old-fashioned gait. “But,” he added, as a knowing way of getting out of it, “you see it wouldn’t do for a friggitora to marry a gentleman; a friggitora must marry a friggitore.”

‘“I’m really honored you would bring this up, Sor Cassandro,” replied the old man; and he said “Sor Cassandro” that way because everyone recognized old Sor Cassandro with his wig, his gold-knobbed cane, his tights, and his old-fashioned walk. “But,” he added, as a clever way to dodge the question, “you know it wouldn’t be right for a friggitora to marry a gentleman; a friggitora has to marry a friggitore.”’

‘“I don’t know that that need be a bar,” replied Sor Cassandro.

“I don’t think that needs to be a barrier,” replied Sor Cassandro.

‘“You don’t understand me, Sor Cassandro,” pursued the man.

“You don’t get me, Sor Cassandro,” the man continued.

‘“Yes, I understand perfectly,” answered the other. “You mean that if she must marry a friggitore, I must become a friggitore.”

“Yeah, I get it,” replied the other. “You mean that if she has to marry a friggitore, I have to become a friggitore.”

‘“You a friggitore, Sor Cassandro! That would never do. How could you so demean yourself?”

‘“You a friggitore, Sor Cassandro! That would never work. How could you lower yourself like that?”’

‘“Love makes all sweet,” responded Sor Cassandro. “You’ve only to show me what to do and I’ll do it as well as anyone.”

“Love makes everything sweet,” replied Sor Cassandro. “Just show me what to do, and I’ll do it as well as anyone.”

‘The friggitore was something of a wag, and the idea of the prim little Sor Cassandro turned into a journeyman friggitore tickled his fancy, and he let him follow his bent.

‘The friggitore was quite the jokester, and the thought of the proper little Sor Cassandro becoming a journeyman friggitore amused him, so he allowed him to pursue that path.

‘The next morning Sor Cassandro was at Panìco as soon as the shop was open. They gave him a white jacket and a large white apron, and put a white cap on his head, with a carnation stuck in it. And the whole neighbourhood gathered round the shop to see Sor Cassandro turned into a friggitore. The work of the shop was increased tenfold, and it was well there was an extra hand to help at it.

‘The next morning, Sor Cassandro arrived at Panìco as soon as the shop opened. They gave him a white jacket and a large white apron, and put a white cap on his head with a carnation stuck in it. The whole neighborhood gathered around the shop to see Sor Cassandro transformed into a friggitore. The workload in the shop increased tenfold, and it was lucky there was an extra hand to help out.

‘Sor Cassandro was very patient, and adapted himself to his work surprisingly well, and though the master fryer took a pleasure in ordering him about, he submitted to all with good grace, and not only did he make him do the frying and serving out to perfection, but he even [303]taught him to clip his words and leave off using any expression that seemed inappropriate to his new station.5

‘Sor Cassandro was very patient and adapted to his work surprisingly well. Even though the master fryer enjoyed bossing him around, he accepted everything with good grace. Not only did he excel at frying and serving, but he even [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]taught him to cut down on his words and stop using any expressions that felt out of place for his new role.5

‘There was no denying that Sor Cassandro had become a perfect friggitore, and no exception could be taken to him on that score. As soon as he felt himself perfect he did not fail to renew his suit.

‘There was no denying that Sor Cassandro had become a perfect friggitore, and no exception could be taken to him on that score. As soon as he felt he was perfect, he didn’t hesitate to renew his proposal.

‘The father was puzzled what objection to make next. He knew, however, that Sor Cassandro was very miserly, so he said, “You’ve made yourself a friggitore to please me, now you must do something to please the girl. Suppose you bring her some trinkets, if you can spare the price of them.”

‘The father was confused about what objection to raise next. He knew, however, that Sor Cassandro was very stingy, so he said, “You’ve made yourself a friggitore to please me, now you need to do something to please the girl. How about bringing her some trinkets, if you can afford them.”

‘“Oh, anything for love!” answered Sor Cassandro; and the next day he brought a pair of earrings.

‘“Oh, anything for love!” replied Sor Cassandro; and the next day he brought a pair of earrings.

‘“How did she like my earrings?” he whispered next night to her father.

‘“What did she think of my earrings?” he whispered to her father the next night.

‘“Oh, pretty well!” replied the father. “You might try something more in that style.”

“Oh, pretty well!” replied the father. “You might want to try something more like that.”

‘The next day he brought her a necklace, the next day a shawl, and after that he brought fifty scudi to buy clothes such as a girl should have when she’s going to be married.

‘The next day he brought her a necklace, the day after that a shawl, and then he brought fifty scudi to buy clothes that a girl should have when she's getting married.

‘After all this he asked for the girl herself.

‘After all this, he asked for the girl herself.

‘“You must take her,” said the father, and Sor Cassandro went to take her. But she was a sprightly, impulsive girl, and the moment he came near her she screamed out—

‘“You have to take her,” said the father, and Sor Cassandro went to get her. But she was a lively, impulsive girl, and the moment he got close to her she screamed out—

‘“Get away, horrid old man!”6 and wouldn’t let him approach her.

“Get away, you awful old man!”6 and wouldn’t let him get near her.

‘“Leave her alone to-night, and try to-morrow. I’ll try to bring her round in the meantime.”

“Leave her alone tonight, and try again tomorrow. I’ll see if I can get her to come around in the meantime.”

‘Sor Cassandro came next day; but the girl was more violent than ever, and would say nothing but “Get away, horrid old man!”

‘Sor Cassandro came the next day; but the girl was more aggressive than ever, and would only say, “Get away, you creepy old man!”

‘Finding this went on day after day without amendment, Sor Cassandro indignantly asked for his presents back. [304]

‘Finding this went on day after day without any change, Sor Cassandro angrily asked for his gifts back. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘“You shall have them!” cried the girl, and the clothes she tore up to rags, and the trinkets she broke to atoms and threw them all at him.

“You can have them!” the girl shouted, tearing the clothes into rags and breaking the trinkets into pieces, throwing it all at him.

‘But for the rest of his life, wherever he went, the boys cried after him, “Sor Cassandro, la friggitora! Sor Cassandro, la friggitora!”’ [305]

‘But for the rest of his life, wherever he went, the boys shouted after him, “Sor Cassandro, the fryer! Sor Cassandro, the fryer!”’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Lo Sposalizio di Sor Cassandro.’ For ‘Sor’ see p. 194. ↑

1 ‘The Marriage of Sor Cassandro.’ For ‘Sor’ see p. 194. ↑

2 The ‘Via di Panìco’ is so called, according to Rufini, because on a bit of ancient sculpture built into the wall of one of the houses where it had been dug up as is so commonly done in Rome, the people thought they saw the likeness of some ears of millet, panìco, and birds pecking them. ↑

2 The ‘Via di Panìco’ gets its name, according to Rufini, because on a piece of ancient sculpture built into the wall of one of the houses where it was found, as is often done in Rome, people thought they saw what resembled some ears of millet, panìco, and birds pecking at them. ↑

3 Just as at Oxford, men say ‘the High’ and ‘the Corn,’ &c, it is very common in Rome to use the name of a street omitting the word Via. ↑

3 Just like in Oxford, where people refer to ‘the High’ and ‘the Corn,’ it’s common in Rome to drop the word Via when mentioning a street. ↑

4 ‘Friggitoria,’ an open shop where all manner of fried dishes very popular among the lower classes, and varying according to the time of year, are made and sold; three or four or more enormous pans of oil and of lard are kept boiling, and at one season fish, at another rice-balls, at another artichokes, &c. &c, always previously dipped into light batter, are cooked therein to a bright gold colour. On St. Joseph’s Day, as it always falls in Lent, a meagre festa-dish is made of balls of batter fried in oil, in as universal request as our pancakes on Shrove Tuesday. A writer in the ‘Giovedi’ mentions two popular traditions on the connexion between the ‘frittelle’ or ‘frittatelli’ and St. Joseph. One is that St. Joseph was wont to make such a dish for his meal by frying them with the shavings from his bench, in the same dangerous way that you may see those of his trade heating their glue in any carpenter’s shop in Rome. The other, that on occasion of the Visitation, the B. Virgin and St. Elizabeth remained so long in ecstatic conversation that the dinner was forgotten, and St. Joseph took the liberty allowed to so near a relation of possessing himself of a frying-pan and preparing a dish of ‘frittelle.’

4 ‘Friggitoria,’ an open shop where all kinds of fried dishes are made and sold, is very popular among the lower classes and changes with the seasons. There are three or four large pans of oil and lard kept boiling, and at one time fish are cooked, at another rice balls, and at another artichokes, all lightly dipped in batter and fried to a bright gold color. On St. Joseph’s Day, which always falls during Lent, a simple festive dish of fried batter balls is made, as widely requested as our pancakes on Shrove Tuesday. A writer in the ‘Giovedi’ mentions two popular stories about the connection between ‘frittelle’ or ‘frittatelli’ and St. Joseph. One is that St. Joseph used to make this dish by frying scraps from his workbench, in the same risky way you might see carpenters heating glue in any carpenter’s shop in Rome. The other story is that during the Visitation, the Virgin Mary and St. Elizabeth were so engrossed in conversation that dinner was forgotten, and St. Joseph took the liberty of using a frying pan to prepare a dish of ‘frittelle.’

The writer already quoted narrates in another paper that the ‘friggitori’ formerly plied their trade in the open air, but one day a cat escaping from the attentions of an admirer she did not choose to encourage, sprang from a low roof adjoining, right into the frying-pan of a ‘friggitore’ full as it was of boiling oil and spluttering ‘frittelle’; the cat overturned the frying-pan, setting herself on fire, and carrying a panic together with a stream of flaming oil into the midst of the crowd in waiting for their ‘frittelle.’ Since that day the ‘friggitore’ fries under cover, though still in open shops. ↑

The writer previously mentioned shares in another paper that the ‘friggitori’ used to work outside, but one day a cat, trying to escape from the advances of a suitor she wasn’t interested in, jumped from a nearby low roof right into a ‘refrigerator’ that was filled to the brim with boiling oil and sizzling ‘frittelle.’ The cat knocked over the frying pan, catching fire and causing a panic along with a spill of flaming oil among the crowd waiting for their ‘frittelle.’ Since that incident, the ‘friggitore’ fries under shelter, although still in outdoor shops. ↑

5 Great part of the fun of the story consisted of jokes upon these technicalities which it would be too tedious to reproduce and explain. ↑

5 A big part of the fun of the story was the jokes about these details, which would be too boring to share and explain. ↑

6 ‘Brutto vecchiaccio!’ ugly, horrid old man. ↑

6 "Disgusting old man!" __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

I COCORNI.

This story of Sor Cassandro led to others of the same nature, but without sufficient interest in the detail to put in print, though they seemed to illustrate the fact that an imaginative people will rapidly turn the most ordinary circumstances into a myth. For instance, one concerned a family named Cocorni, who seem to have been nothing more than successful grocers, the Twinings of Rome, and here is a specimen of the language used about them:—‘When his daughter was old enough to marry, Cocorni would hear of no proposal for her. “No,” said he; “no one marries my daughter but he who comes in a carriage and four to fetch her.” And it really did happen that one came in a carriage and four and took her away;’ as if it were such a great matter that it implied something supernatural.

This story of Sor Cassandro led to others like it, but without enough interesting details to publish, even though they seemed to show that a creative people can quickly turn the most ordinary situations into a myth. For example, one involved a family named Cocorni, who appeared to be nothing more than successful grocers, the Twinings of Rome, and here’s a sample of the language used about them:—‘When his daughter was of age to marry, Cocorni would entertain no proposals for her. “No,” he said; “no one marries my daughter but the one who arrives in a carriage and four to take her away.” And it actually happened that someone did come in a carriage and four and took her off;’ as if it were such a big deal that it suggested something supernatural.

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE BEAUTIFUL ENGLISHWOMAN.

There was a beautiful Englishwoman here once, beautiful and rich as the sun.1 Heads without number were turned by her: but she would have nothing to say to anyone who wanted to marry her. Some defect she found in all. She was very accomplished, as well as rich and beautiful, and she drew a picture, and said ‘When one comes who is like this I will marry him; but no one else.’ Some time after a friend came to her, and said:

There was a stunning Englishwoman here once, beautiful and as wealthy as the sun. 1 Countless heads turned to look at her, but she wouldn’t engage with anyone who wanted to marry her. She found some flaw in everyone. She was not only accomplished but also rich and beautiful. She drew a picture and said, “When someone comes along who looks like this, I will marry him; but no one else.” Some time later, a friend approached her and said:

‘There is So-and-so, he is exactly like the portrait you have drawn, and is dying to see you.’

‘There’s So-and-so, he looks just like the portrait you’ve drawn, and he can’t wait to see you.’

‘Is he really like it?’ she inquired.

‘Is he really like that?’ she inquired.

‘To me he seems exactly like it; and I don’t see he has any defect at all, except that he has one tooth a little green.’ [306]

‘To me, he seems just like that; and I don’t see any flaws in him at all, except for one of his teeth being a little green.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Then I won’t have anything to say to him.’

‘Then I won’t have anything to say to him.’

‘But, if he is exactly like the portrait you have drawn?’

‘But what if he looks exactly like the portrait you’ve created?’

‘He can’t be, or he wouldn’t have any defect.’

‘He can’t be, or he wouldn’t have any flaws.’

‘But he is exactly like it, and so you must see him; if it’s only for curiosity.’

‘But he is just like that, so you have to see him; even if it’s just out of curiosity.’

‘Well, for curiosity, then, I’ll see him; but don’t let him build any hopes upon it.’

‘Well, out of curiosity, I’ll see him; but don’t let him get his hopes up.’

The friend arranged that they should meet at a ball, and the one was as well pleased as the other; but not wishing to seem to yield too soon, she said:

The friend set up a meeting for them at a ball, and both were just as happy about it; however, not wanting to appear to give in too quickly, she said:

‘Do you know, I don’t like that green tooth you’ve got.’

‘You know, I really don’t like that green tooth you have.’

And he, not to appear too easy either, answered:

And he, not wanting to seem too easy either, replied:

‘And, do you know, I don’t like that patch2 you have on your face.’

‘And, you know, I really don’t like that patch2 you have on your face.’

The next time they met, neither he had a green tooth, nor had she a patch; for, you know, a patch can be put on and taken off at pleasure, and this happened a long long while ago, in the days when they wore such things.

The next time they met, neither of them had a green tooth, nor did she have a patch; because, you know, a patch can be put on and taken off whenever you want, and this was a long, long time ago, back when people wore those things.

She then said:

She then said:

‘If you’ve put in a false tooth I’ll have nothing to say to you.’

‘If you’ve gotten a fake tooth, I won’t have anything to say to you.’

‘No,’ answered he; ‘you have taken off your patch; and I’ve taken off my green tooth.’

'No,' he replied; 'you've removed your patch, and I've taken off my green tooth.'

‘How could you do that?’ she asked.

‘How could you do that?’ she asked.

‘Oh! it was only a leaf I put on to see if you were really as particular as you seemed to be.’

‘Oh! I just placed a leaf there to see if you were really as picky as you appeared to be.’

As they were desperately in love with each other, the next thing was to arrange the marriage secretly. His father had a great title, and would never have consented to his marrying her, because she had none. But she had money enough for both; so they contrived a secret marriage. And then they bought a villa some way off, and lived there.

As they were deeply in love, the next step was to plan a secret wedding. His father had a prestigious title and would never approve of him marrying her because she didn't have one. However, she had enough money for both of them, so they arranged a private marriage. Then they bought a villa not far away and lived there.

For thirteen years they lived devoted to each other, and [307]full of happiness; and two children were born to them, a boy and a girl. It was only after thirteen years that the father discovered where the son was, and when he did, he sent for an assassin,3 and giving him plenty of money, told him to go and by some device or other to bring him to him and get through the affair. The assassin took a carriage and dressed like a man of some importance, and said that some chief man or other in the Government had sent for him to speak to him. The husband suspected nothing, and went with him. As it was night he could not see which way they drove, and thus he delivered his son to his father, who kept him shut up in his palace.

For thirteen years, they lived dedicated to each other, and [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] full of happiness; two children were born to them, a boy and a girl. It was only after those thirteen years that the father found out where the son was, and when he did, he called for an assassin, 3, and paid him well, instructing him to come up with some way to bring the son to him and handle the situation. The assassin took a carriage, dressed like a person of importance, and said that a high-ranking official from the Government had summoned him to talk. The husband suspected nothing and went along with him. Since it was nighttime, he couldn’t see which way they drove, and thus he handed over his son to his father, who kept him locked away in his palace.

The assassin went back to the villa, and by giving each of the servants fifty scudi apiece, got access to the wife, and murdered her, and then took the children to the grandfather’s palace.

The assassin returned to the villa and, by giving each of the servants fifty scudi, gained access to the wife, killed her, and then took the children to the grandfather's palace.

‘Papa, that man killed mama,’ said the little boy, as soon as he saw his father.

‘Dad, that guy killed Mom,’ said the little boy as soon as he saw his father.

The husband seized the man, and made him confess it.

The husband grabbed the man and forced him to admit it.

‘Then now you must kill him who hired you to do it,’ he exclaimed. ‘As you have done the one, you must do the other. He who ordered my wife to be killed is no father to me.’

‘Then you have to kill the person who hired you to do it,’ he exclaimed. ‘Since you’ve done one, you have to do the other. The one who ordered my wife’s death is no father of mine.’

So the assassin went in and killed the father, but when he came out the husband was ready for him, and he said:

So the assassin went in and killed the father, but when he came out, the husband was ready for him, and he said:

‘Now your turn has come,’ and he shot him dead.

‘Now it’s your turn,’ and he shot him dead.

[I have not had the opportunity of sifting this story, but it manifestly contains the usual popular exaggerations.] [308]

[I haven't had the chance to go through this story, but it clearly has the typical popular exaggerations.] [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Bella e ricca quanto il sole.’ ↑

1 ‘Beautiful and rich as the sun.’ ↑

2 ‘Mosca’ and ‘neo’ both mean either a mole or a patch. ↑

2 ‘Mosca’ and ‘neo’ both refer to either a mole or a spot. ↑

3 ‘Sicario,’ hired assassin. ↑

3 'Sicario,' contract killer. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE ENGLISHMAN.

[That a rich Englishman should fall in love with a beautiful but poor Roman girl, and marry her, is no impossible incident, and may have happened more than once; but it is very curious to watch how it has passed into the mythology of the people.

[That a wealthy Englishman would fall in love with a beautiful but impoverished Roman girl and marry her is not an unlikely scenario and probably has happened more than once; however, it's fascinating to see how it has become part of the people's mythology.]

The idea of a ‘Gran Signore’ coming on a visit from a land where all are rich is the first fantastic element of the tradition. The idea that all English people are rich is very common among the Roman lower classes, and is not an unnatural fancy for people to take up who have seen no specimens of the creature but such as are rich. There is one old woman whom I have never been able to disabuse of the idea. I shall never forget the blank astonishment with which she repeated my words the first time I broke it to her that there were poor people in England, and she has never thoroughly grasped it.

The idea of a ‘Gran Signore’ coming to visit from a place where everyone is wealthy is the first unbelievable part of the tradition. The belief that all English people are rich is very common among the lower classes in Rome, and it’s not surprising that people who have never encountered anyone but the wealthy would think that way. There’s one elderly woman I’ve never been able to convince otherwise. I’ll never forget the blank shock on her face when I first told her that there are poor people in England, and she still hasn’t fully understood it.

‘Io pensava che in Inghilterra tutti erano ricchi—tutti ricchi—’ (I thought everyone—everyone in England was rich) she always says, as if in spite of me she thought so still.

‘I thought everyone—everyone in England was rich,’ she always says, as if she still believes that despite me.

That such an one should be won by the charms of a beautiful Roman girl, and should carry her off to that unknown land bright with gold but devoid of sun, and that in the end the fogs and the Protestantism should prove unendurable to the child of the South, are not bad materials for a fairy story.

That someone like him could be captivated by the charms of a beautiful Roman girl and take her away to that unfamiliar land gleaming with gold but lacking sunlight, only for the fog and Protestantism to become unbearable for the child of the South, makes for quite the fairy tale.

I have met with such stories several times.

I have heard these kinds of stories many times.

One old woman assured me, that when she was a child her father had let an apartment to the very man, and that he took the room for a month, and though he spontaneously offered ten times as high a price as the owner could ever have asked, he never slept there. He had secretly married a Roman girl who was imprisoned for breaking the law by marrying a Protestant, and he opened her prison doors with his ‘wand,’ that is, he bribed the jailer to admit him to pass all his time in prison with her; ultimately he carried her off to England, but she soon died there.

One old woman assured me that when she was a child, her father rented an apartment to the very man, and that he took the room for a month. Even though he offered ten times what the owner could have asked for, he never actually stayed there. He had secretly married a Roman girl who was imprisoned for breaking the law by marrying a Protestant, and he opened her prison doors with his ‘wand,’ meaning he bribed the jailer to let him spend all his time in prison with her; in the end, he took her to England, but she died there soon after.

Another pointed out to me a shop where in former days had been a butcher, whose daughter had charmed a rich Englishman, who carried her off to his own country, and married her there. [309]But this was a very tetra (sad, gloomy) story, for after many years she came back looking like the ghost of herself. She had gone away a blooming girl, the pride and the admiration of the whole neighbourhood; she came back prematurely grey, hollow-eyed, and thin as a skeleton.

Another person pointed out a shop that used to be a butcher's, where a wealthy Englishman had once been charmed by the butcher's daughter. He took her back to his country and married her there. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] But this was a very sad story because after many years, she returned looking like a ghost of her former self. She had left as a vibrant girl, the pride and admiration of the entire neighborhood, but she came back prematurely gray, hollow-eyed, and as thin as a skeleton.

She said it was the climate had disagreed with her, and further than that she would say nothing. But who knows what she may not have had to go through!

She said it was the climate that disagreed with her, and beyond that, she wouldn't say anything. But who knows what she might have had to endure!

Bresciani has made the same tradition the groundwork of one of his most interesting romances.]

Bresciani has used the same tradition as the basis for one of his most captivating stories.

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE MARRIAGE OF SIGNOR CAJUSSE.1

There was a rich farmer2 who had one only daughter, and she was to be his heiress. She fell in love with a count who had no money—at least only ten scudi a month. When he went to the farmer to ask her in marriage he would not hear of the alliance, and sent him away.

There was a wealthy farmer2 who had only one daughter, and she was set to inherit his fortune. She fell in love with a count who was broke—he only earned ten scudi a month. When he approached the farmer to ask for her hand in marriage, the farmer wouldn’t even consider it and sent him away.

But the girl and he were bent on the marriage, and this is how they brought it about. The girl had a thousand scudi of her own; half of this she gave to him, and said: ‘Go over a certain tract of the Campagna and visit all the peasants about, and give five piastres to one and ten to another according to their degree, that they may say when they are asked that they all belong to Signor Cajusse. Then take papa round to hear what they say, and he will think you are a great proprietor, and will let us marry.’

But the girl and he were determined to get married, and this is how they made it happen. The girl had a thousand scudi to her name; she gave him half of that and said, “Go across a certain area of the Campagna and visit all the peasants around. Give five piastres to some and ten to others based on their status, so when they’re asked, they’ll all say they belong to Signor Cajusse. Then take my dad around to hear what they say, and he’ll think you’re a big landowner and will let us marry.”

Signor Cajusse, for such was his name, took the money and did as she told him, and then hired a carriage and came to her father, and said: ‘You are quite mistaken in thinking I’m too poor to marry your daughter; come and take a drive with me, and I will show you what a great man I am.’

Signor Cajusse, as that was his name, took the money and did as she asked, then hired a carriage and went to her father, saying: ‘You’re mistaken in thinking I'm too poor to marry your daughter; come take a drive with me, and I'll show you what a big deal I am.’

So the farmer got into his carriage, and he drove [310]him round to all the peasants he had bribed. First they stopped at a farm.3

So the farmer got into his carriage, and he drove [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]him around to all the peasants he had bribed. First, they stopped at a farm.3

‘Good morning, Signor Cajusse,’ said the tenant, who had been duly primed, bowing down to the ground; and then he began to tell him about his crops, as if he had been really proprietor.

‘Good morning, Mr. Cajusse,’ said the tenant, who had been well-prepared, bowing low; and then he started to talk about his crops, as if he were the actual owner.

After this he proposed to walk a little way, and all the labourers left their work and flocked after him, crying, ‘Good day, Signor Cajusse; health to you and long life, and may God prosper you!’ and they tried to kiss his hand.

After that, he suggested taking a short walk, and all the workers stopped their tasks and followed him, calling out, ‘Good day, Mr. Cajusse; wishing you health and a long life, and may God bless you!’ They even tried to kiss his hand.

Further along they came to a villa where Cajusse had ascertained that the real proprietor would not come that day. Here he went straight up to the casino, where the servant in charge, who had been also duly bribed, received him with all the honours due to a master.

Further along, they arrived at a villa where Cajusse had found out that the actual owner wouldn’t be there that day. He went directly to the casino, where the servant in charge, who had also been properly bribed, welcomed him with all the respect owed to a master.

‘Welcome, Signor Cajusse,’ he said, and opened the doors and shutters and set the chairs.

‘Welcome, Mr. Cajusse,’ he said, and opened the doors and windows and arranged the chairs.

‘Bring a little of that fine eight-year-old wine,’ ordered Cajusse; ‘we have brought a packet of biscuits, and will have some luncheon.’4

‘Bring some of that fine eight-year-old wine,’ said Cajusse; ‘we’ve brought some biscuits and will have lunch.’4

‘Very good, Signor Cajusse,’ replied the servant respectfully, and shortly after brought in a bottle of wine handed to him for the purpose by Cajusse the day before. When they had drunk they took a stroll round the place, and wherever they turned the labourers all had a greeting and a blessing for Signor Cajusse.

‘Very well, Mr. Cajusse,’ the servant replied respectfully, and shortly after, he brought in a bottle of wine that Cajusse had given him the day before for this purpose. After they had finished their drinks, they took a walk around the area, and wherever they went, the workers greeted and blessed Mr. Cajusse.

When the merchant saw all this he hardly knew how to forgive himself for having run the risk of losing such a son-in-law. He was all smiles and civility as they drove home, and the next day was as anxious to hurry on the match as he had been before to put it off. As all were equally in a hurry to have it, of course it was not long before it was celebrated. With the girl’s remaining five hundred scudi a handsome apartment was hired to satisfy appearances before the parents, and for a few days they lived on what was left over. [311]

When the merchant saw all this, he could hardly forgive himself for risking such a great son-in-law. He was all smiles and polite as they drove home, and the next day he was just as eager to move forward with the match as he had been to postpone it before. Since everyone was in a rush to make it happen, it didn't take long for the celebration to take place. With the girl’s remaining five hundred scudi, they rented a nice apartment to impress the parents, and for a few days, they lived off the leftover funds. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

They sat counting their last two or three scudi. ‘What is to be done now?’ said Cajusse; ‘that will soon be spent, and then how are we to live?’

They sat counting their last two or three scudi. ‘What should we do now?’ said Cajusse; ‘that won't last long, and then how are we going to survive?’

‘I’ll set it right,’ answered the bride. ‘Now we’re married that’s all that signifies. Now it’s done they can’t help it.’

“I'll fix it,” replied the bride. “Now that we’re married, that’s all that matters. It’s done, and there's no turning back.”

So she went to her mother and told her all, and the good woman, knowing the thing could not be altered, talked over the father; and he gave them something to live upon and found a place for Cajusse, and they were very happy.

So she went to her mom and told her everything, and the kind woman, knowing nothing could be changed, discussed it with the dad; and he gave them some money to live on and found a place for Cajusse, and they were very happy.

1 ‘I Matrimonio del Signor Cajusse.’ This story, it will be seen, is altogether disconnected with the other of the same name at p. 158–69, and it is curious so similar a title should be appended to so dissimilar a story. It has not half the humour of Mr. Campbell’s ‘Baillie Lunnain,’ No. xvii. b. Vol. i., but is sufficiently like to pair off against it. It is also observable for representing exactly the proceeding of the ‘Marquis di Carabas’ in ‘Puss in Boots.’ ↑

1 'Mr. Cajusse's Wedding.' As you'll notice, this story is completely unrelated to the other one with the same title on pages 158-169, and it's interesting that such a similar title is attached to such a different story. It doesn't have nearly as much humor as Mr. Campbell's ‘Baillie Lunnain,’ No. xvii. b. Vol. i., but it's close enough to be compared with it. It's also worth noting that it mirrors exactly the actions of the ‘Marquis di Carabas’ in ‘Puss in Boots.’ ↑

2 ‘Mercante di Campagna,’ see n. 2, p. 154. ↑

2 ‘Country Merchant,’ see n. 2, p. 154. ↑

3 ‘Tenuta,’ a farm; a holding. ↑

3 ‘Tenuta,’ a farm or estate. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4 ‘Merenda,’ see n. 7, p. 155. ↑

4 ‘Snack,’ see n. 7, p. 155. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE DAUGHTER OF COUNT LATTANZIO.1

Count Lattanzio had a daughter who was in love with a lawyer, but the count was not at all inclined to let her marry beneath her station, and he took all the pains imaginable to prevent them from meeting; so much so that he scarcely left her out of his sight. One day he was obliged to go to his vineyard outside the gates, and before he left he gave strict injunctions to his servant to let no one in till he came back at 21 o’clock.2

Count Lattanzio had a daughter who was in love with a lawyer, but the count was not at all willing to let her marry someone of a lower status. He went to great lengths to keep them apart, hardly allowing her out of his sight. One day, he had to go to his vineyard outside the gates, and before he left, he instructed his servant strictly to let no one in until he returned at 9 PM.2

It was an hour before 21 o’clock, and there was a knock at the door.

It was an hour before 9 PM, and there was a knock at the door.

‘Is the Count Lattanzio in?’

“Is Count Lattanzio in?”

‘No, he won’t be in just yet.’ [312]

‘No, he won’t be here just yet.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Ah, I know, he won’t be in till 21 o’clock; he said I was to wait. I’m come to measure him for a pair of new boots.3

‘Ah, I know, he won’t be in until 9 PM; he said I should wait. I’ve come to measure him for a new pair of boots.3

‘If he told you to wait I suppose you must,’ said the servant; ‘otherwise he had told me not to let anyone in.’ And as he showed him in he thought he was a rather gentlemanly bootmaker.

‘If he asked you to wait, I guess you have to,’ said the servant; ‘otherwise, he would have told me not to let anyone in.’ And as he let him in, he thought he was a pretty decent bootmaker.

Soon after there was another knock.

Soon after, there was another knock.

‘Is the Count Lattanzio in?’

"Is Count Lattanzio in?"

‘No, he won’t be in for some time yet.’

‘No, he won’t be in for a while yet.’

‘Ah, never mind; he said I was to wait if he hadn’t come in. I’m the tailor, come to measure him for a new suit.’

‘Ah, never mind; he said I should wait if he hadn’t come in. I’m the tailor, here to measure him for a new suit.’

‘If he said you were to wait I suppose you must,’ answered the servant; ‘but it’s very odd he should have told you so, as he particularly told me to let no one in.’ However, he showed him in also. Directly after there came another knock.

‘If he said you should wait, I guess you have to,’ replied the servant; ‘but it’s really strange he would say that, considering he specifically told me to let no one in.’ Still, he let him in anyway. Right after that, there was another knock.

‘Is the Count Lattanzio at home?’

"Is Count Lattanzio here?"

‘No, he won’t be in for some time yet.’

‘No, he won't be in for a while yet.’

‘Never mind; I’m the lawyer engaged in his cause before the courts. He said I was to wait if he wasn’t in.’

‘Never mind; I’m the lawyer working on his case in court. He told me to wait if he wasn’t around.’

But the servant began to get alarmed at having to disobey orders so many times, and he thought he would make a stand.

But the servant started to feel anxious about having to disobey orders so many times, and he decided it was time to take a stand.

‘I’m very sorry,’ he said, ‘but master said I wasn’t to show anyone in.’

“I’m really sorry,” he said, “but my boss told me not to let anyone in.”

‘What! when I’ve come here with my two clerks, on particular business of the greatest importance to your master, do you suppose I’m going away again like that, fellow?’

‘What! Now that I’ve come here with my two clerks for specific business that’s really important to your master, do you think I’m just going to leave like that, man?’

The servant was so amazed by his imperative manner that he let him in, too.

The servant was so shocked by his commanding tone that he let him in, too.

Twenty-one o’clock came at last, and with it Count Lattanzio. Having given orders that no one should be let [313]in, of course he expected to find no one. What was his astonishment, therefore, when, as he opened the drawing-room door, a loud cry of ‘Long live Count Lattanzio!’4 uttered by several voices, met his ear.

Twenty-one o’clock finally arrived, and so did Count Lattanzio. He had instructed that no one should be let [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]in, so he naturally expected to find nobody. Imagine his surprise, then, when he opened the drawing-room door and was greeted by a loud shout of ‘Long live Count Lattanzio!’4 from several voices.

The shoemaker was the bridegroom, the tailor the best man, the lawyer and his two clerks were the notary and his witnesses. The marriage articles had been duly drawn up and signed, and as the parties were of age there was no rescinding the contract.

The shoemaker was the groom, the tailor was the best man, and the lawyer along with his two clerks were the notary and his witnesses. The marriage agreement had been properly prepared and signed, and since both parties were of legal age, there was no way to back out of the contract.

Count Lattanzio sent away the servant for not attending to orders; but that made no difference—the deed was done.

Count Lattanzio dismissed the servant for not following orders; but that didn't change anything—the act was completed.

1 This story, again, is perhaps more curious for the sake of the repetition of the name of Lattanzio, in so different a story as that at p. 155, than for its contents. There is doubtless a reason why this name should come into this sort of use as with that of ‘Cajusse,’ but I have not as yet been able to meet with it. ↑

1 This story is probably more interesting because of the repeated mention of the name Lattanzio in such a different context as on page 155 than for what it actually contains. There must be a reason why this name is used in this way, similar to ‘Cajusse,’ but I haven't been able to figure it out yet. ↑

2 ‘21 o’clock,’ three hours before the Ave. ↑

2 ‘9 PM,’ three hours before the Ave. ↑

3 ‘Gisbuse’ are high boots of unblackened leather reaching up to the thighs, worn by sportsmen about Rome. ↑

3 'Gisbuse' are tall boots made of untreated leather that reach up to the thighs, worn by athletes in Rome. ↑

4 ‘Viva!’ or ‘Evviva!’ is a not very uncommon, though rather old-fashioned, mode of hearty greeting. ↑

4 ‘Viva!’ or ‘Evviva!’ is a somewhat old-fashioned but still fairly common way to express a warm greeting. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

BELLACUCCIA.

There was once a pleader1 who sat writing in his room all day whenever he was not in court.

There was once a lawyer1 who spent all day writing in his office whenever he wasn’t in court.

One day as he so sat there came in at the window a large monkey, and began whisking about the room. The lawyer, pleased with the antics of the monkey, called it scimmia bellacuccia,2 and caressed and fed it. By-and-by he had to go out on his business, and though he was in some fear of the pranks the monkey might be up to in his absence, he had taken such a fancy to it that he did not like to send it away, and at last left it alone in his apartment. [314]

One day as he sat there, a big monkey came in through the window and started jumping around the room. The lawyer, amused by the monkey's antics, called it scimmia bellacuccia,2 and petted it and fed it. Eventually, he had to step out for work, and even though he was a bit worried about what trouble the monkey might cause while he was gone, he had grown so fond of it that he didn’t want to send it away, so he finally left it alone in his apartment. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

When he came home, instead of the monkey having been at any mischievous pranks, the whole suite of rooms was put in beautiful order, and out of very scanty materials in the cupboard an excellent dinner was cooked and laid ready.

When he got home, instead of the monkey having caused any trouble, the whole set of rooms was neatly arranged, and with just a few basic ingredients from the cupboard, a great dinner was prepared and set out.

‘Scimmia bellacuccia! is this your doing!’ said the lawyer, and the monkey nodded assent.

‘Scimmia bellacuccia! is this your doing!’ said the lawyer, and the monkey nodded in agreement.

‘Then you are a precious monkey, indeed,’ he replied, and he called it to him and fed it, and gave it part of the dinner.

‘Then you are a special little monkey, for sure,’ he said, and he called it over, fed it, and shared part of his dinner with it.

The next day the monkey did the work of the house, and the lawyer sent away his servant because he had no further need for one, the monkey did all much better and in a more intelligent way.

The next day, the monkey took care of the household tasks, and the lawyer dismissed his servant since he no longer needed one; the monkey handled everything much better and in a smarter way.

All went well for a time, when one day the lawyer had occasion to visit a friar he knew at St. Nicolò da Tolentino, for in those days there were friars3 there instead of nuns as now. He did not fail to tell him of the treasure he had found in his bellacuccia, as he called his monkey.

All went well for a while, until one day the lawyer needed to visit a friar he knew at St. Nicolò da Tolentino, because back then there were friars3 there instead of nuns like today. He made sure to tell him about the treasure he had found in his bellacuccia, which is what he called his monkey.

‘Don’t let yourself be deceived, friend!’ exclaimed the friar. ‘This is no monkey; it is not in the nature of a monkey to do thus.’

‘Don’t let yourself be fooled, friend!’ the friar exclaimed. ‘This isn’t a monkey; it’s not in a monkey’s nature to act this way.’

‘Come and see it yourself,’ said the lawyer. ‘You will find I have over-stated nothing of what it can do and does every day.’

‘Come and see it for yourself,’ said the lawyer. ‘You'll see I haven't exaggerated anything about what it can do and does every day.’

Some days after this the friar came, having taken care to provide himself with his stole and a stoup of holy water. Directly he came into the lawyer’s apartment he put on his stole and sprinkled the holy water.

Some days later, the friar arrived, having made sure to bring his stole and a container of holy water. As soon as he entered the lawyer's room, he put on his stole and sprinkled the holy water.

The monkey no sooner saw the shadow of his habit than it took to flight, and, after scrambling all round the room to get away from the sight of him, finally hid itself under the bed.

The monkey barely saw the shadow of its owner’s clothes before it ran away, and after frantically searching the room to escape from the sight of him, it ultimately hid under the bed.

‘You see!’ said the friar to the lawyer.

‘You see!’ said the friar to the lawyer.

But the lawyer cried, ‘Here bellacuccia; come here!’ and as the monkey was by habit very docile and obedient, [315]when he had said ‘bellacuccia’ a great many times, it at last forced itself to come to him, but stealthily and warily, showing great fear of the monk.

But the lawyer shouted, “Hey bellacuccia; come here!” and since the monkey was usually very gentle and obedient, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]after he called out “bellacuccia” many times, it eventually made its way to him, but cautiously and carefully, clearly scared of the monk.

When it had got quite close to the lawyer, and he was holding it, the friar once more put on his stole, sprinkled it with holy water and exorcised it.

When it got really close to the lawyer, and he was holding it, the friar put on his stole again, sprinkled it with holy water, and performed an exorcism.

Instantly bellacuccia burst away from the lawyer, and, clambering up to the window, broke away through the upper panes and disappeared, leaving a smoke and a smell of brimstone behind. But it was really a man who had been put under a spell by evil arts,4 and when thus released by the monk’s exorcism he went and became a monk, I forget in what order, but I know it was one of those who dress in white.

Instantly, bellacuccia broke away from the lawyer, climbed up to the window, shattered the upper panes, and vanished, leaving behind smoke and the smell of sulfur. But it was actually a man who had been cursed by dark magic, and when the monk’s exorcism freed him, he went on to become a monk, although I can’t recall which order, just that it was one of those that wear white.

1 ‘Curiale,’ a lawyer, a pleader. ↑

1 ‘Curiale,’ a lawyer, an attorney. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Scimmia,’ a monkey. In England we usually speak of a cat as of feminine gender, and in Germany the custom is so strong that the well-known riddle pronounces the ‘Kater’ (tom cat) ‘keine Katze’ (no cat), while in France, Spain and Italy the normal cat is masculine. In Italian, on the other hand, the monkey is always spoken of in the feminine gender; it becomes noteworthy in this instance when we consider the termination of the story. ‘Bellacuccia,’ ‘dear little pretty one.’ ↑

2 ‘Scimmia,’ a monkey. In England, we usually refer to a cat as female, and in Germany, this tradition is so strong that the well-known riddle declares the ‘Kater’ (tom cat) to be ‘keine Katze’ (no cat), while in France, Spain, and Italy, the standard cat is male. In Italian, though, the word for monkey is always treated as feminine; this becomes significant in this case when we think about the ending of the story. ‘Bellacuccia,’ ‘dear little pretty one.’ ↑

3 I do not know at what period the transfer took place, but in the edition of 1725, of Panciroli’s book on Rome, the church is named as built and served by the ‘Eremiti scalsi di S. Agostino,’ corroborating this part of the story. ↑

3 I’m not sure when the transfer happened, but in the 1725 edition of Panciroli’s book on Rome, the church is mentioned as being built and served by the ‘Barefoot Hermits of St. Augustine,’ which supports this part of the story. ↑

4 ‘Fatato.’ ↑

4 ‘Fatato.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

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THE SATYR.

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1

There was once a great king who had one only little daughter, and this daughter was always entreating him to take her out hunting.

There was once a great king who had only one little daughter, and this daughter was always begging him to take her out hunting.

‘It is not proper for little girls to go out hunting,’ he used to say; but it was no use. She went on begging all the same, and at last her importunity gained the day, and [316]he took her with him. But in the forest she got separated from him and lost herself, and he, full of the ardour of the chase, forgot the care of her, and, when he came to think of her, she could no more be found.

‘It’s not right for little girls to go hunting,’ he often said, but it didn’t matter. She kept begging anyway, and eventually her persistence paid off, and [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]he took her along. But in the forest, she got separated from him and lost her way, and he, caught up in the excitement of the hunt, completely forgot about her. When he finally remembered her, she was nowhere to be found.

She wandered about the forest crying for her father, but her father came not; and instead of her father a selvaggio1 found her, and fell in love with her, and took her to his den and married her, and she had two children.

She roamed through the forest, calling out for her dad, but he didn't come; instead of her dad, a selvaggio1 found her, fell in love with her, took her to his den, and married her. They had two kids together.

When ten years had passed, and there were no tidings of her, the queen, her mother, died of a broken heart.2

When ten years had passed and there was no news of her, the queen, her mother, died of a broken heart.2

But the selvaggio loved her dearly, and did everything in his power to give her pleasure. When he found she could not eat the raw game which he brought her, he would go into the towns and steal cooked food and bring it to her, and when he could not get that he would go ever so far to find fruits and roots. Everything, he did to please her, but it was no use, she could not love him.

But the selvaggio loved her deeply and did everything he could to make her happy. When he realized she couldn’t eat the raw game he brought her, he would go into town, steal cooked food, and bring it back to her. When that wasn’t possible, he would travel far to find fruits and roots. He did everything to please her, but it was no use; she couldn’t love him.

At last, however, after so many years were passed, he thought she was at least used to the way of life with him, and he no longer watched her so closely. One day when he was gone to a long distance she wandered on to a cliff that overhung the sea, and looked till she saw a ship, then she called to it and made signs to it to come and pick her up.

At last, after so many years had gone by, he thought she was at least accustomed to life with him, and he no longer monitored her so closely. One day, when he was away at a distance, she wandered onto a cliff that overlooked the sea, and waited until she saw a ship. Then she called out to it and signaled for it to come and pick her up.

The captain took compassion on her distress, and made for the land, and took her on board and wrapped her in a cloak,3 and she told him who she was and he promised to take her home. He gave her a white kerchief to put on her head and another to hold in her hand.

The captain felt sorry for her distress, headed for the shore, brought her on board, and wrapped her in a cloak,3 and she explained who she was, and he promised to take her home. He gave her a white handkerchief to wear on her head and another to hold in her hand.

They had not got far out to sea when the selvaggio found out what had happened, and came running to the same cliff where she had stood, and made signs entreating her to come back; but she shook the handkerchief she held in token of refusal.

They hadn’t gotten far out to sea when the selvaggio discovered what had happened and ran to the same cliff where she had stood, gesturing for her to come back; but she waved the handkerchief she held as a sign of refusal.

Then what did he do? He ran back to the den and fetched one of the children and held it up, appealing to [317]her mother’s instincts; but she always continued waving the handkerchief in token of refusal. When he saw that this prevailed not, he ran back to the den and fetched the other child, and held them both up to plead with her to come back. But she always, and always, went on waving the handkerchief in token of refusal. Then what did he do? He took out his knife and plunged it into the one child, as signifying that if she did not come back he would kill the other also. But even for that she was not moved, but went on waving the handkerchief in token of refusal. Then with his knife he killed the other child, for he had no hope left; but she could not go back to that life with him, and went on waving the handkerchief in token of refusal.

Then what did he do? He ran back to the den and grabbed one of the kids and held it up, trying to appeal to [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]her mother’s instincts; but she just kept waving the handkerchief as a sign of refusal. When he saw that didn’t work, he ran back to the den and got the other kid, holding them both up to urge her to come back. But she continued to wave the handkerchief in refusal. So what did he do next? He took out his knife and stabbed one child, meaning that if she didn’t return, he would kill the other too. But even that didn’t affect her, as she kept waving the handkerchief in refusal. Then, with his knife, he killed the other child, since he had lost all hope; but she couldn’t go back to that life with him and just kept waving the handkerchief in refusal.

Then with his claw4 he tore open his breast, and tore out his heart, and died for the love he bore her.

Then with his claw4 he ripped open his chest, pulled out his heart, and died for the love he had for her.

But the sailors took her home, and they were richly rewarded, and there was great rejoicing.

But the sailors brought her home, and they were generously rewarded, and everyone celebrated joyfully.

1 ‘You know what a “selvaggio” is, I suppose?’ asked the narrator. ‘Yes; a wild man,’ I answered, thinking of the German myths. ‘No, they weren’t altogether men, they were those creatures there used to be in old times, half men with legs like goats, but they walked on two legs, and had heads and arms like men.’ After this description, I thought I might take the license of adopting the title for a word incidentally used by the narrator in telling the story. The shepherds and goatherds about Rome with their goatskin leggings covering leg and thigh, readily suggest to the eye how the idea of a satyr may have first arisen. ↑

1 "Do you know what a 'selvaggio' is?" the narrator asked. "Yes; a wild man," I replied, thinking of the German myths. "No, they weren't exactly men. They were those creatures that used to exist in ancient times—half men with legs like goats who walked on two legs and had heads and arms like men." After this description, I thought I could take the liberty of using the title for a term the narrator mentioned while telling the story. The shepherds and goatherds around Rome, wearing their goatskin leggings covering their legs and thighs, easily suggest how the idea of a satyr might have first come about. ↑

2 ‘Appassionata,’ ‘of a broken heart.’ ↑

2 ‘Appassionata,’ ‘about a broken heart.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

3 ‘Ferraiuola,’ the light cloak with a shoulderpiece which priests wear out of doors in Rome in summer. It was formerly worn by others besides priests. ↑

3 ‘Ferraiuola,’ the light cloak with a shoulder piece that priests wear outdoors in Rome during the summer. It used to be worn by people other than just priests. ↑

4 Sgramfia, or granfa or gramfia, is a claw of a beast, or of a bird of prey, most often used for the latter. I hardly know how this came to be ascribed to a satyr, unless she meant simply that his nails were rather strongly developed. ↑

4 Sgramfia, or grandpa or gramfia, refers to the claw of a beast or a bird of prey, usually the latter. I'm not sure how this ended up being associated with a satyr, unless she just meant that his nails were quite strong. ↑

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2

THE SATYRS.

They say there was a queen whose husband was dead, and she had one only son. Imagine how devoted she was to him, her only child, soon to be the king of vast dominions.

They say there was a queen whose husband had died, and she had one son. Imagine how devoted she was to him, her only child, soon to be the king of great realms.

One day a lady, unknown to her, came and asked if she might put a horse of hers in her stable.

One day, a woman she didn't know came and asked if she could keep one of her horses in her stable.

‘No,’ said the queen; ‘I cannot have the horses of anyone else mixed up there.’

‘No,’ said the queen; ‘I can’t have anyone else’s horses mixed in there.’

The lady turned to go; but as she went, she met the prince coming in from hunting, surrounded by all his suite. The lady was a fairy, and in her indignation at the queen’s refusal of her demand, she turned the prince and all those following him into salvatichi.1

The lady turned to leave; but as she did, she ran into the prince coming back from hunting, surrounded by his entire entourage. The lady was a fairy, and in her anger at the queen’s refusal of her request, she transformed the prince and everyone with him into salvatichi. 1

Imagine the horror and the cries of the queen when [318]she saw what had happened. What was to be done? Much as she adored her son, it was impossible to keep him in the palace now.

Imagine the horror and the cries of the queen when [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]she saw what had happened. What could be done? As much as she loved her son, there was no way to keep him in the palace now.

‘You must put him in the stables,’ said the cruel fairy, who had waited to enjoy her revenge, and now preserved her coolness amid the confusion and excitement of those around. ‘You must put him in the stables, and all the others too now. Your stables will be full enough, indeed!’

‘You need to put him in the stables,’ said the cruel fairy, who had been waiting to enjoy her revenge and now kept her composure amid the chaos and excitement of those around her. ‘You have to put him in the stables, along with all the others now. Your stables will definitely be full enough!’

But the queen’s grief was too deep to waste itself in a strife of words with her.

But the queen's sadness was too profound to spend it on an argument with her.

‘There is only one mode of redemption for him. If he can find a maiden to consent to marry him as he is, without knowing he is a prince, I will come and remove the spell.’

‘There’s only one way to break the spell for him. If he can find a girl who agrees to marry him just the way he is, without knowing he’s a prince, I will come and lift the curse.’

The queen had seen the proof of her relentless spirit, and knew it would be vain if she should humble herself to entreat her to alter her sentence. So she said nothing, and the fairy went away.

The queen had witnessed the proof of her unyielding spirit and understood that it would be pointless to humble herself and ask her to change her decision. So, she said nothing, and the fairy left.

To find a maiden who should consent to marry such a monster as her son now was, and who should yet be meet to be his wife when restored to his due estate, was a hopeless task indeed; but what will not a mother’s love attempt? With endless fatigue and continued mortifications she made the fruitless effort in every quarter. When this had utterly failed, she condescended to maidens of lower estate, and tried daughters of merchants and tradesmen, and even peasants, to whom the elevation of rank might in some measure compensate the ill-conditioned union. But it was all in vain, there were only fresh repulses and deeper mortifications.

To find a woman willing to marry a monster like her son had become was a hopeless challenge; but what wouldn’t a mother do for love? With endless effort and ongoing humiliation, she tried every possible option. When that failed completely, she lowered her standards and approached the daughters of merchants, tradespeople, and even peasants, thinking that a boost in status might make the unsuitable match more acceptable. But it was all in vain; she only faced more rejections and deeper disappointments.

It happened that adjoining the paddock in which the stables lay, were the grounds of a duke. One day the duke’s daughter was walking in her garden, and the prince immediately turned his head and saw her, and began beckoning to her, for he had the head and arms and body of a man from the waist upwards still, and the rest of him [319]was like the hindquarters of a goat, only he stood upright, like a man. The duke’s daughter was perplexed, however, at the sight of such a monster, and ran away.

It turned out that next to the paddock where the stables were, there were the grounds of a duke. One day, the duke’s daughter was strolling through her garden when the prince noticed her right away. He started waving at her because he had the upper body of a man but from the waist down, he had the back half of a goat, though he stood upright like a man. The duke’s daughter was confused by the sight of such a creature and ran away.

Nevertheless the next day she came back, and the prince beckoned to her again, and all his suite, who were satyrs like himself, beckoned to her too, till at last she came near.

Nevertheless, the next day she returned, and the prince called to her again, and all his attendants, who were satyrs just like him, called to her as well, until she finally approached.

‘Do you wish me well?’2 he asked.

‘Do you want me to be happy?’2 he asked.

‘No!’ exclaimed the duke’s daughter with disgust, because she could not say that she loved him: and she ran away. Every day it was the same thing; and when she told her mother what had happened, she bid her keep away, and beware of going near such a monster.

‘No!’ exclaimed the duke’s daughter with disgust, because she couldn't say that she loved him: and she ran away. Every day it was the same thing; and when she told her mother what had happened, her mother told her to stay away and be careful not to go near such a monster.

For a whole month, therefore, she kept away; but curiosity overcame her at last, and she went down into the garden as before. All the satyrs began beckoning as usual, and she went up to them.

For an entire month, she stayed away; but curiosity finally got the better of her, and she went back into the garden like before. All the satyrs started waving her over as usual, and she approached them.

‘If you will say you wish me well, you will give me endless happiness,’ said the prince; ‘and if not, I will dash my head against this wall, and put an end to my life.’

‘If you say you want me to be happy, you’ll give me endless joy,’ said the prince; ‘and if not, I’ll crash my head against this wall and end my life.’

He was so much in earnest, and the tears were in his eyes, and his sighs and entreaties were so moving, that she almost forgot his monstrous form. The prince observed that her face betrayed signs of interest, and he redoubled his sighs, and all the other satyrs made signs and gesticulations to her that she should consent.

He was so sincere, and there were tears in his eyes, and his sighs and pleas were so heartfelt that she almost overlooked his monstrous appearance. The prince noticed that her expression showed signs of interest, so he intensified his sighing, and all the other satyrs gestured and urged her to agree.

‘Say you wish me well! Let me just have the happiness of once hearing you say so!’ continued the prince.

‘Just say you wish me well! I just want to hear you say it once!’ the prince continued.

‘Poor fellow, he seems so sad, and so anxious I should just say it once. There can’t be much harm in saying just once that I wish him well,’ said the maiden to herself.

‘Poor guy, he looks so sad and worried. I should just say it once. There can’t be any harm in saying just once that I hope he’s doing okay,’ the young woman thought to herself.

‘Say, say just once, that you wish me well!’ persisted the prince; and the maiden in her compassion said:

‘Just say once that you wish me well!’ the prince urged, and the maiden, feeling pity, responded:

‘Yes! I wish you well.’

"Yes! Wishing you all the best!"

Immediately the fairy appeared and took the spell from off the prince, and from off all his suite. [320]

Immediately, the fairy showed up and lifted the spell from the prince and from everyone in his entourage. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

When the duke’s daughter found to what a fine handsome prince she was promised, she saw her compassion was well rewarded.

When the duke’s daughter realized what a charming and handsome prince she was promised, she felt that her kindness was truly rewarded.

1 Bazzarini gives ‘salvatico’ as synonymous with ‘satiro.’ ↑

1 Bazzarini states that ‘salvatico’ is synonymous with ‘satiro.’ ↑

2 ‘Mi volete bene,’ literally, only ‘do you wish me well?’ but the accepted form of saying, ‘do you love me?’ when therefore the girl says the words at last she is supposed to make a sort of compromise by means of which she saves the prince and her own good taste at the same time. ↑

2 ‘Do you care about me?’ literally means just ‘do you wish me well?’ but it’s commonly understood as ‘do you love me?’ So when the girl finally says these words, she’s expected to reach a kind of compromise that preserves both the prince’s honor and her own sense of taste at the same time. ↑

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AMADEA.

Amadea was a beautiful queen who fell in love with a king not of her own country; he loved her too, and married her, and took her home. But the king her father, and the prince her brother, were very wroth that she should go away with the stranger.

Amadea was a stunning queen who fell in love with a king from a different country; he loved her back, married her, and took her home. However, her father the king and her brother the prince were very angry that she was leaving with someone unfamiliar.

When Amadea heard that her brother was preparing to prevent her going away with her husband, she turned upon him and killed him, and then cut his body in pieces, and threw the mangled limbs in her father’s way, to show him what he might expect if he followed after her too. And [321]when she found that he was not deterred by the sight, she turned and killed him in like manner.

When Amadea found out that her brother was trying to stop her from leaving with her husband, she confronted him and killed him. Then she dismembered his body and threw the severed limbs in her father's path to show him what could happen if he pursued her as well. And [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]when she saw that he wasn't scared by the scene, she turned around and killed him the same way.

Only fancy what a woman she must have been!

Just imagine what an amazing woman she must have been!

When her husband, who had liked her before, saw this, he began to be afraid of her; nevertheless, they lived for some time happily together, and had two beautiful children. But after that again, her husband’s love cooled towards her when he thought of the horrors she had committed, and he took their two children and went away and left her.

When her husband, who had liked her before, saw this, he started to be afraid of her; still, they lived happily together for a while and had two beautiful kids. But after that, his love for her faded when he remembered the terrible things she had done, and he took their two kids and left her.

After a time Amadea not only found out where he was, but found out that she had a rival. Then she made her way to the place, and demanded to see her rival; but knowing of what she was capable, this her husband would by no means allow. Then she prepared a most beautiful necklace of pearls, and sent it as a present to her rival. But she had poisoned it by her arts, for she was a sort of witch, and when her rival put it on she died.

After a while, Amadea not only discovered where he was, but also learned that she had a competitor. So she headed to the location and insisted on seeing her rival; however, knowing what she was capable of, her husband wouldn’t permit it. Then she created a stunning necklace of pearls and sent it as a gift to her rival. But she had poisoned it with her skills, as she was somewhat of a witch, and when her rival wore it, she died.

Meantime she had sent a message to her husband, saying, ‘If I may not come to your court, at least let me see my children for one hour, and then I will go away, and molest you no more for ever.’

Meanwhile, she had sent a message to her husband, saying, ‘If I can't come to your court, at least let me see my children for one hour, and then I will leave and never bother you again.’

‘That I will grant you,’ was his answer; and the children were brought to her.

‘I will agree to that,’ was his answer; and the children were brought to her.

When she saw her children, she wept, and embraced them, and wept again, and said:

When she saw her kids, she cried, hugged them, cried again, and said:

‘Now, my children, I must kill you.’

‘Now, my kids, I have to kill you.’

‘And why must you kill us?’ asked the little boy.

‘And why do you have to kill us?’ asked the little boy.

‘Because of the too great love I bear you,’ she replied, and drew out her dagger.

‘Because of the immense love I have for you,’ she replied, pulling out her dagger.

At that instant her husband came into the room, and she stabbed the children before his eyes. After that she stabbed herself, and he died of grief.

At that moment, her husband walked into the room, and she attacked the children right in front of him. Then she hurt herself, and he died from heartbreak.

[It was about the time that Prince Amadeo gave up his attempt to hold the throne of Spain that I was visiting a poor [322]person who had before given me some of the stories of this collection. The abdication of Prince Amadeo being the subject of the hour, we, of course, talked about that; when she said: ‘Ah, you who are so fond of favola, do you know the favola of Queen Amadea, for one name brings up another?’ I told her I did not; for I expected she meant some legend of the House of Savoy; she then told me the story of Medeia in the text. It is very rare, however, to meet remnants of classical traditions in such direct form.]

[It was around the time that Prince Amadeo gave up his attempt to claim the throne of Spain that I was visiting a poor [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] person who had previously shared some of the stories in this collection with me. Since the abdication of Prince Amadeo was the topic of the hour, we naturally discussed it; then she said: ‘Ah, you who love favola, do you know the favola of Queen Amadea, because one name brings up another?’ I replied that I didn’t, as I expected she was referring to some legend of the House of Savoy; she then told me the story of Medeia in the text. It is quite rare, however, to encounter remnants of classical traditions presented so directly.]

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THE KING OF PORTUGAL.

They say that once there was a king of Portugal who had a beautiful daughter, and there came a prince to marry her. When the prince saw how old and feeble the king was, he seized him, and shut him up in prison, and ordered him to be fed on only bread and water, that he might die without killing him. ‘And then,’ he said, ‘I shall take the government.’

They say that there was once a king of Portugal who had a beautiful daughter, and a prince came to ask for her hand in marriage. When the prince saw that the king was old and weak, he captured him, locked him up in prison, and ordered that he only be given bread and water, so he would die without having to kill him. ‘And then,’ he said, ‘I will take over the government.’

Then he would send and ask, ‘How does he look today? Does he grow lean and pale? Does he look like to die?’

Then he would send a message and ask, ‘How does he look today? Is he getting thin and pale? Does he seem like he's going to die?’

But the answer ever was, ‘Nay, prince, he looks hale and stout. Every day his face is fresher and fatter. Every day he seems stronger and firmer.’

But the response was always, ‘No, prince, he looks healthy and strong. Every day his face is fuller and more vibrant. Every day he seems stronger and more solid.’

Then the prince grew in despair of ever accomplishing his design, and he said, ‘It cannot be as you say, unless there is treachery,’ and he changed the guards, and set a watch upon them; but the same thing happened, and the old king continued to grow stouter and stronger. He made them search the princess, too, when she went to see her father, and they assured themselves that she took nothing to him. Then he bade them watch her, and they saw that she placed her breast against the prison bars, and fed him with her own milk. [323]

Then the prince became increasingly hopeless about achieving his goal, and he said, ‘It can't be as you claim unless there's some betrayal,’ so he changed the guards and put them under surveillance; but the same thing happened, and the old king continued to grow bigger and stronger. He had them search the princess, too, when she went to visit her father, and they confirmed that she wasn't taking anything to him. Then he ordered them to watch her, and they saw that she pressed her chest against the prison bars and fed him with her own milk. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

For it had been thus, that when she learnt what was the design of the prince, she was filled with earnest desire to save her father’s life, and prayed so hard that she might have wherewith to support him, that, young girl as she was, the means was afforded her, and thus by her devotion she preserved him in life and health.

For when she found out what the prince was planning, she was filled with a strong desire to save her father's life. She prayed so fervently for the means to support him that, despite being just a young girl, she was granted what she needed. Through her dedication, she kept him alive and healthy.

When the prince heard what she did, he was seized with compunction, and sent and released the king, and restored him to his throne, and went his way in shame. But the king sent for him back, and forgave him: he gave him his daughter also, and when he died he left him the succession to the kingdom.

When the prince found out what she did, he felt guilty, so he went and freed the king, bringing him back to his throne, and left feeling embarrassed. But the king called him back and forgave him; he also gave him his daughter, and when he died, he left him the throne as his successor.

[‘I have no “favole” for you to-day,’ was one day my greeting from an old lady who had given me many, ‘but there has just come to mind a “bell’ fatto” (a grand deed), which is better than a “favola” for it is historic truth.’ Then she told me the story in the text, and I was surprised to find she was positive it was a king of Portugal and that she never seemed to have heard of the ‘Carità Romana.’ It is odd that while so many legends get localised any should get dis-localised.] [325]

[‘I don’t have a “favole” for you today,’ one day an old lady, who had shared many with me, greeted me. ‘But a “bell fatto” (a grand deed) just came to mind, which is better than a “favola” because it’s a true historical event.’ Then she told me the story in the text, and I was surprised to find she was convinced it was a king of Portugal and that she didn’t seem to have ever heard of the ‘Carità Romana.’ It’s strange that while so many legends become localized, any should become dis-localized.] [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

CIARPE.

[327]

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THE TWO FRIARS.1

Two friars once went out on a journey, that is to say, a friar and a lay brother.2 One day of their journey, when they were far from their convent, the friar said to the lay brother: ‘We fare poorly enough all the days of our life in our convent, let us, for one day of our lives, taste the good things of this world which others enjoy every day.’

Two friars once set out on a journey, specifically, a friar and a lay brother.2 One day during their trip, when they were far from their convent, the friar said to the lay brother, “We don’t have a great time in our convent most days, so let's, for just one day of our lives, experience the good things of this world that others enjoy every day.”

‘You know better than I, who am only a poor simple lay brother,’ answered the other, ‘whether such a thing may be done. I don’t mean to say I should not like to have a jolly good dinner for once; but there is the uneasiness of conscience to spoil the feast, and the penance afterwards. I think we had better leave it alone.’

‘You know better than I do, being just a poor simple lay brother,’ replied the other, ‘whether that’s possible. I’m not saying I wouldn’t enjoy a really good dinner for once; but there’s the nagging guilt to ruin the meal, and the penance afterward. I think we should just skip it.’

They journeyed on, therefore, and said no more about it that day, but the next, when they were very hungry after a long walk through the cold mountain air, the scent of the viands preparing in the inn as they drew near brought the subject of yesterday’s conversation to their minds again, and the friar said to the lay brother: ‘You know even our rule says that when we are journeying we cannot live as we do in our convent; we must eat and drink whatever we find in the places to which we are sent; moreover, some relaxation is allowed for the restoration of the body under the fatigues of the journey. Now, if we come, as it has often happened to us, to a poor little mountain village, where scarcely a wholesome crust of bread is to be found, to be washed down with a glass of sour wine, we have to take it for all our dinner, and eat it with thanksgiving. Therefore why, now, when we come to a place where the fare is less scanty, even as by the odours we perceive is the case [328]here, should we not also take what is found ready, and eat it with thanksgiving?’

They continued on their journey and didn’t mention it again that day, but the next day, feeling very hungry after a long walk in the cold mountain air, the smell of the food being prepared at the inn reminded them of yesterday’s conversation. The friar said to the lay brother, "You know our rules state that when we’re traveling, we can’t eat and drink like we do in the convent; we must have whatever we find in the places we visit. Also, some relaxation is allowed to restore our bodies after the fatigue of the journey. Now, if we arrive, as we often do, in a small mountain village where there's hardly a decent piece of bread to eat, washed down with some sour wine, we have to accept that as our dinner and eat it gratefully. So why, when we reach a place where the food is more plentiful, as the smells suggest [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]here, shouldn't we also enjoy what’s offered and eat it with gratitude?"

‘What you say seems right and just enough,’ said the lay brother, not at all sorry to have his scruples so speciously explained away. ‘But there is one thing you have not thought of. It is all very well to say we will eat and drink this and that, but how are we poor friars, who possess nothing, to command the delicacies which are smoking round the fire, and which have to be paid for by well-stored purses?’

‘What you say sounds reasonable and just right,’ said the lay brother, not at all regretful to have his doubts so cleverly dismissed. ‘But there’s one thing you haven’t considered. It’s easy to say we’ll eat and drink this and that, but how are we poor friars, who have nothing, supposed to get the fancy food that’s cooking by the fire, which needs to be paid for by those with full wallets?’

‘Oh! that is not the difficulty,’ replied the friar; ‘leave that to me.’

‘Oh! that's not the problem,’ replied the friar; ‘leave that to me.’

By this time they had reached the threshold of the inn, and, taking his companion’s last feeble resistance for consent, the friar strutted into the eating-room with so bold an air that the lay brother hardly knew him for the humble religious he had been accompanying anon.

By this time, they had arrived at the entrance of the inn, and seeing his companion's last weak protest as agreement, the friar walked into the dining room with such confidence that the lay brother hardly recognized him as the humble monk he had been traveling with just moments before.

‘Ho! here! John, Peter, Francis, whatever you are called!’

‘Hey! Over here! John, Peter, Francis, whatever your name is!’

‘Francesco, to your service,’ replied the host humbly, thinking by his commanding tone he must be some son of a great family.

‘Francesco, at your service,’ the host replied humbly, believing that his authoritative tone indicated he was likely a member of a prominent family.

‘Francesco guercino,3 then,’ continued the friar in the same high-sounding voice, ‘take away this foul table-cloth, and bring the cleanest and finest in your house; remove these cloudy glasses and bring out the bright ones you have there locked up in the glass case, and replace these bone spoons and forks4 with the silver ones out of your strong box.’

‘Francesco guercino,3 then,’ continued the friar in the same grand voice, ‘remove this dirty tablecloth, and bring the cleanest and finest one you have; take away these cloudy glasses and bring out the clear ones you have locked up in the glass case, and replace these bone spoons and forks4 with the silver ones from your strong box.’

‘Your Excellency is served!’5 said the host, who, as well as his wife and son, had bustled so fast to do what he was so peremptorily ordered that all was done as soon as spoken.

‘Your Excellency is served!’5 said the host, who, along with his wife and son, hurried so quickly to fulfill the request that everything was done the moment it was asked.

‘Now then Francesco guercino, what have you got to put before a hungry gentleman in this poor little place of yours?’ [329]

‘So, Francesco guercino, what do you have to offer a hungry gentleman in this tiny spot of yours?’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Excellenza! when you have tasted the cooking of my poor little house,’ said the host, ‘you will not, I am sure, be displeased; all unworthy as it is of your Excellency’s palate. For what we have ready, we have beef for our boiled meat, good brains for our fried, the plumpest poultry for our grilled, and the freshest eggs for our omelette; or, if your Excellency prefers it, we have hashed turkey, with crisp watercresses; and as for our soup,6 there is not an inn in the whole province can beat us, I know. And for dessert we have cheese and fruits, and’——

‘Your Excellency! Once you’ve tried the cooking from my humble little home,’ the host said, ‘I’m sure you won’t be disappointed, even though it’s certainly not worthy of your refined taste. For what we have prepared, we have beef for our boiled dish, good brains for frying, the juiciest poultry for grilling, and the freshest eggs for our omelette; or, if you prefer, we have chopped turkey with crispy watercress; and as for our soup,6 there’s not a single inn in the entire province that can compete with us, I promise. For dessert, we have cheese and fruits, and’——

‘Well done, Francesco guercino,’ said the friar interrupting him. ‘You know how to cry your own wares, at all events. Bring us the best of what you have; it is not for poor friars to complain of what is set before us.’

‘Well done, Francesco guercino,’ the friar said, cutting him off. ‘You certainly know how to sell your own goods. Bring us the best of what you have; it’s not for poor friars to complain about what’s served to us.’

The last sentence gave the host a high idea of the piety of his guest just as the hectoring tone he had assumed had convinced him he must be high-born, and in a trice the best of everything in the house was made ready for the table of the friar. All other guests had to wait, or go away unserved; the host was intent only on serving the friar.

The last sentence made the host think highly of his guest's piety, just as the aggressive tone he had taken made him believe the guest must be of noble birth. In no time, the finest of everything in the house was prepared for the friar's table. All the other guests had to wait or leave without being served; the host was focused solely on attending to the friar.

Every dish he took to the table himself, and as he did so each time the friar, fixing on him a look of sanctity, exclaimed,—

Every dish he brought to the table himself, and each time he did, the friar, staring at him with a look of holiness, exclaimed,—

‘Blessed Francesco! Blessed Francesco!’7

‘Blessed Francesco! Blessed Francesco!’__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__

At the close of the meal, as he was hovering about the table, nervously wiping away a crumb, or polishing a plate, he said, with trembling:

At the end of the meal, as he lingered around the table, nervously wiping away a crumb or shining a plate, he said, trembling:

‘Excellenza! Permit a poor man to put one question. What is there you see about me that makes you look at me as though you saw happiness in store, and exclaim with so much unction as quite to fill me with joy, “Blessed Francesco!”?’

‘Excellenza! Let a poor man ask you one question. What is it about me that makes you look at me as if you see happiness ahead, and say with such warmth that it fills me with joy, “Blessed Francesco!”?’

‘True, something I see wherefore I call thee blessed,’ replied the friar; ‘but I cannot tell it thee now. To-morrow, [330]perhaps, I may find it easier. Impossible now, friend. Now, pray thee, show us our rooms.’

‘It's true, I see something that makes me call you blessed,’ replied the friar, ‘but I can’t tell you what it is right now. Maybe tomorrow, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] it will be easier to explain. It's impossible to do so now, my friend. For now, please, show us to our rooms.’

It needed not to add any injunctions concerning the rooms; of course, the cleanest and the best were appointed by Francesco spontaneously for such honoured guests.

It didn't need to impose any restrictions on the rooms; naturally, the cleanest and best were chosen by Francesco on his own for such esteemed guests.

‘How do you think we are getting on?’ said the friar to the lay brother when they were alone.

‘What do you think of our progress?’ said the friar to the lay brother when they were alone.

‘Excellently well so far,’ replied the other; ‘things have passed my lips this night which never have they tasted before, nor ever may again. But the reckoning, the reckoning; that is what puzzles me: when it comes to paying the bill, what’ll you do then?’

‘Things have been going really well so far,’ replied the other; ‘I've had things tonight that I've never tasted before and probably never will again. But the bill, the bill; that's what confuses me: when it's time to pay, what are you going to do then?’

‘Leave it all to me,’ returned the friar; ‘I’m quite satisfied with the man we have to deal with. It will all come right, never fear.’

‘Leave it all to me,’ replied the friar; ‘I’m totally fine with the guy we’re dealing with. It’ll all work out, don’t worry.’

The next morning the two brothers were astir betimes, but Francesco was on the look-out to serve them.

The next morning, the two brothers woke up early, but Francesco was ready to help them.

‘Excellenza! you will not leave without breakfast, Excellenza!’

‘Excellency! You can’t leave without breakfast, Excellency!’

‘Yes, Francesco; poor friars must not mind going without breakfast.’

‘Yes, Francesco; poor friars shouldn't worry about skipping breakfast.’

‘Never, from my house, Excellenza!’ responded Francesco. ‘I have the table ready with a bottle of wine freshly drawn from the cellar, eggs that were born8 since daylight, only waiting your appearance to be boiled, rolls this moment drawn from the oven, and my wife is at the stove preparing a fried dish9 fit for a king.’

‘Never, from my house, Excellenza!’ responded Francesco. ‘I have the table set with a bottle of wine freshly taken from the cellar, eggs that were laid since sunrise, just waiting for you to arrive to be boiled, rolls just out of the oven, and my wife is at the stove preparing a fried dish fit for a king.’

‘Too much, too much, Francesco! You spoil us; we are not used to such things,’ said the lay brother as they sat down; but Francesco had flown into the kitchen, and returned with the dish.

‘Too much, too much, Francesco! You’re spoiling us; we’re not used to this,’ said the lay brother as they sat down; but Francesco had dashed into the kitchen and came back with the dish.

‘Blessed Francesco!’ said the friar as he set it on the table.

‘Blessed Francesco!’ said the friar as he placed it on the table.

‘I will not disturb your Excellency now,’ said Francesco; ‘but, after you have breakfasted, I crave your remembrance of your promise of last night, that you [331]would reveal to me this morning wherefore you say with such enthusiasm “Blessed Francesco!”’

‘I won't interrupt you now, Your Excellency,’ said Francesco. ‘But after you’ve had your breakfast, I hope you’ll remember your promise from last night to tell me why you say with such enthusiasm “Blessed Francesco!”’

‘It is not time to speak of it now,’ said the friar; ‘first we have our reckoning to make.’

‘It’s not the right time to talk about it now,’ said the friar; ‘first, we need to settle our accounts.’

The lay brother hid his face in his table-napkin in terror, and seemed to be seized with a distressing fit of coughing.

The lay brother buried his face in his napkin in fear, and appeared to be having a troubling coughing fit.

‘Oh, don’t speak of the reckoning, Excellenza; that is as nothing.’

‘Oh, don’t talk about the reckoning, Excellence; that’s nothing.’

‘Nay,’ said the friar; ‘that must not be;’ and he made a gesture as if he would have drawn out a purse, while under the table he had to press his feet against those of the lay brother to silence his rising remonstrance for his persistence.

‘No,’ said the friar; ‘that can't happen;’ and he made a gesture like he was about to pull out a purse, while under the table he had to press his feet against those of the lay brother to quiet his rising protests against his insistence.

‘I couldn’t think of taking anything from your Excellenza,’ persisted the host, putting his hands behind him that no money might be forced upon him.

‘I can’t accept anything from you, Your Excellency,’ the host insisted, putting his hands behind his back to prevent anyone from pushing money onto him.

The more stedfastly he refused the more perseveringly the friar continued to press the payment, till, with his companion, he had gained the threshold of the door.

The more firmly he refused, the more persistently the friar kept insisting on the payment, until, with his companion, he reached the threshold of the door.

As they were passing out, however, the host once more exclaimed, ‘But the explanation your Excellency was to give me of why you said “Blessed Francesco!”’

As they were drifting off, the host exclaimed again, “But the explanation you were going to give me about why you said ‘Blessed Francesco!’?”

‘Impossible, friend; I cannot tell it here. Wait till I have gained the height of yonder mound, while you stand at its foot, and I will tell it you from thence.’

‘Impossible, my friend; I can’t share it here. Wait until I reach the top of that mound over there, while you stay at the bottom, and I’ll tell you from there.’

With this they parted.

They parted ways.

When the friar and his companion had reached the height he had pointed out, and were at a sufficient distance to be saved the fear of pursuit, he turned to the host, who stood gaping at the bottom, and said:

When the friar and his companion got to the spot he had indicated, far enough away to avoid the worry of being chased, he turned to the innkeeper, who was staring up at them from the bottom, and said:

‘Lucky for you, Francesco, that when you come to die you will only have the trouble of shutting one eye, instead of two, like other men.’10

'You're lucky, Francesco, that when it's your time to go, you'll only have to shut one eye instead of two, like other men.'10

[Such a story at the expense of a single unworthy monk contains no implied taunt at the religious orders, who are deeply honoured in Rome, and none more than the mendicant Franciscans, most of whom are themselves of the very people. Ever since the invasion of September 20, 1870, every effort has been used to stir up the people against them, but with little effect. At the last Carneval the most elaborate car was got up with the purpose of ridiculing them, but it met with no approval, except from members of the clubs. The narrator of the story was herself [333]not only a devoted member of the Church, but had a relative in the order of St. Francis, nor did she tell it without an edifying exordium on the goodness of the frati in general, though there must be unworthy members of all professions. Facetiæ of this class are much rarer in Rome than in Spain.]

[This story, which involves a single unworthy monk, doesn't imply any criticism of the religious orders, who are highly respected in Rome, especially the mendicant Franciscans, many of whom come from the very community. Since the invasion on September 20, 1870, there have been continual attempts to incite the public against them, but these efforts have had little impact. During the last Carneval, a very elaborate float was created to mock them, but it only received support from club members. The storyteller was not only a dedicated member of the Church but also had a relative in the order of St. Francis. She shared the tale with a heartfelt introduction about the goodness of the frati in general, while acknowledging that there are inevitably unworthy individuals in every profession. Facetiæ of this kind are much less common in Rome than in Spain.]

1 Though I believe there is no rule or ground for the distinction, in conversational language, ‘fratello’ is used for ‘brother,’ and ‘frate’ for ‘monk’ (as ‘sorella’ usually means any sister and ‘suora’ a nun). ‘Frate,’ again, is usually, though not by any rule, or exclusively, reserved for the mendicant Franciscans. A Capuchin is called ‘padre cappucino,’ and a Dominican, generally, a ‘padre domenicano.’ ↑

1 Although I don't think there's a solid reason for the distinction, in everyday language, 'fratello' is used for 'brother,' and 'frate' refers to 'monk' (while 'sorella' usually just means any sister and 'suora' is a nun). 'Frate,' again, is typically, though not strictly or exclusively, associated with the mendicant Franciscans. A Capuchin is called 'padre cappucino,' and a Dominican is usually referred to as 'padre domenicano.' ↑

2 ‘Laico.’ ↑

2 'Laico.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

3 ‘Guercino.’ There is no very definitely expressed distinction in Italian in the way of saying weak-sighted, or one-eyed, or squinting; ‘guercio’ is used to express all. The termination ‘ino’ here is not an actual diminutive, but means ‘he who is one-eyed,’ or ‘he who is weak-sighted,’ or ‘he who squints,’ with an implied expression of sympathy (see Note 5, p. 379). In this case the conclusion shows that ‘one-eyed’ was intended. ↑

3 ‘Guercino.’ In Italian, there isn't a clear distinction when talking about being weak-sighted, one-eyed, or squinting; the term ‘guercio’ covers all of these. The suffix ‘ino’ here isn’t really a diminutive but means ‘he who is one-eyed,’ or ‘he who is weak-sighted,’ or ‘he who squints,’ with an implied sense of sympathy (see Note 5, p. 379). In this case, the conclusion indicates that ‘one-eyed’ was the intended meaning. ↑

4 ‘Posate,’ plural of ‘posata,’ knife, fork, and spoon. ↑

4 ‘Posate,’ the plural of ‘posata,’ refers to a knife, fork, and spoon. ↑

5 ‘Ecco servito, Excellenza.’ ‘It is all done as you desire.’ ↑

5 ‘Here you go, Your Excellence.’ ‘Everything is done as you wish.’ ↑

6 The poor, badly fed themselves, delight to dilate on a description of good living, just as dreaming of eating is said to arise from a condition of hunger. I have not added a word here in the text to those of the narrator of the story, and her enumeration is a very fair rendering of the usual repertory of a Roman innkeeper. Broth or thin soup (‘minestra’); a dish of boiled meat (‘lesso’), of ‘arrosto,’ that is, grilled or baked, and of ‘fritto’ (fried) is the regular course: ‘gallinaccio spezzato’ is a turkey cut up in joints and served with various sauces, and is much more esteemed than if cooked whole, a rather unusual dish; ‘frittata,’ omelette; ‘crescione,’ watercresses. ↑

6 The poor, who often go hungry, take pleasure in talking about good food, similar to how dreaming of eating is thought to happen from being hungry. I haven’t added anything here; the narrator's account accurately reflects what a typical Roman innkeeper would offer. Broth or thin soup (‘soup’); boiled meat (‘lesson’), grilled or baked dishes (‘roast’), and fried options (‘fried’) are standard fare: ‘broken chicken’ is turkey cut into pieces and served with various sauces, which is more highly regarded than if it were cooked whole, making it quite special; ‘frittata’ is an omelette; and ‘watercress’ refers to watercresses. ↑

7 ‘Beato a te, Francesco.’ ↑

7 'Blessed are you, Francesco.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

8 ‘Born,’ an Italianism for ‘laid.’ ↑

8 ‘Born,’ an Italian term for ‘laid.’ ↑

9 ‘Fritto dorato.’ Romans, though not eminent in the culinary art, fry admirably. They always succeed in making their fried dishes a rich golden colour, and they ordinarily express a fried dish by the two words together, ‘fritto dorato.’ ↑

9 'Golden fry.' Romans, while not experts in cooking, are great at frying. They consistently achieve a rich golden color in their fried dishes, and they usually refer to a fried dish with the two words together, 'fritto dorato.' ↑

10

10

‘Beato a te, Francesco,

"Blessed are you, Francesco,"

Che quando morirai

When you die

Un occhio serrerai

You will close one eye

E l’altro no!’

And the other one, no!

 ↑

↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE PREFACE OF A FRANCISCAN.

A Franciscan friar was travelling on business of his order when he was overtaken by three brigands, who stole from him his ass, his saddle, and his doubloons. Moreover, they told him that if he informed any man of what they had done they would certainly come after him again and take his life; for they could only sell the ass and the saddle that were known to be his by representing that he had sold them to them, otherwise no one would have bought them.

A Franciscan friar was on a business trip for his order when he was confronted by three thieves, who stole his donkey, his saddle, and his gold coins. They also warned him that if he told anyone what happened, they would definitely come after him again and kill him; since they could only sell the donkey and the saddle by claiming that he had sold them to them, otherwise no one would have bought them.

The friar told no man what had happened to him, for fear of losing his life; yet he knew that if he could only let his parishioners know what had occurred, they would soon retake for him all that he had lost.

The friar didn’t tell anyone what had happened to him, afraid of losing his life; however, he knew that if he could just let his parishioners know what had occurred, they would quickly reclaim everything he had lost for him.

So he hit on the following expedient: next Sunday, as he was saying Mass, when he came to the place in the Preface where special additions commemorative of the particular festivals are inserted, after the enumeration of the praises of God, he added the words, ‘Nevertheless, me, Thy poor servant, evil men have robbed of my ass and her saddle, and all my doubloons; but to no man have I declared the thing, save unto Thee only, Omnipotent Father, who knowest all things, and helpest the poor;’ and then he went on, ‘et ideò cum angelis et archangelis,’ &c.1

So he came up with this plan: next Sunday, while he was saying Mass, when he reached the part in the Preface where special notes for the specific holidays are added, after listing the praises of God, he included the words, ‘However, I, Your humble servant, have been robbed of my donkey and its saddle, and all my coins; but I haven’t told anyone about this, except for You only, All-Powerful Father, who knows everything and helps the needy;’ and then he continued, ‘and therefore with angels and archangels,’ &c.1

The parishioners were no sooner thus informed of what had occurred, than they went after the brigands and made them give up all they had taken. The next time, therefore, the father was out in the Campagna, the brigands came after him and said: [334]

The parishioners were quickly informed of what had happened, and they went after the bandits and forced them to return everything they had stolen. The next time the father was out in the Campagna, the bandits came after him and said: [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Now, we take your life; last time we let you off, saying we would spare you if you told no man what we had done; but you cannot keep your own counsel, so you must die like the rest.’

‘Now, we're taking your life; last time we let you go, saying we would spare you if you didn’t tell anyone what we had done; but you can't keep quiet, so you have to die like the others.’

But the good monk showed them that he had not spoken to man of the thing, but had only lamented his loss before God, which every man was free to do. And the brigands, when they heard that, could say nothing, and they let him go by uninjured, him and his beast.

But the good monk showed them that he hadn’t talked to anyone about it, but had only expressed his sadness to God, which everyone was free to do. And the brigands, when they heard that, had nothing to say, and they let him pass unharmed, along with his animal.

[Such stories are the result of a household familiarity with sacred matters, and are told with genuine fun without the least infusion of irreverence. Just as out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaks, even so we make jokes on whatever subject we are most occupied with. Religious offices are so much a part of the daily life of the Catholic poor that it would be impossible to banish the language of them from their simple jokes. I have had numbers of such told me without the least expression that could be called scoffing in the teller; but I forbear to give more than the two or three in the text by way of specimens, lest the spirit of them should be misjudged.]

[These stories come from a household familiarity with sacred things and are shared with genuine humor without any hint of disrespect. Just like how the mouth speaks from the overflow of the heart, we make jokes about whatever we are most involved with. Religious rituals are so intertwined with the daily lives of the Catholic poor that it's impossible to remove their language from their simple jokes. I've heard many such stories told without any sign of mockery from the person telling them, but I’ll only share a couple in the text as examples, so the spirit of them isn't misunderstood.]

1 The merit of this story consists much in the mode of telling. The narrator should be able to imitate the peculiar tone to which the ‘Preface’ is sung, and to supply the corresponding notes for the additional insertion. It was very effectively done by the person who told it to me. ↑

1 The strength of this story lies significantly in how it’s told. The narrator should capture the unique tone of the ‘Preface’ and provide the right notes for any added parts. The person who shared it with me did an excellent job. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE LENTEN PREACHER.

A friar came to preach the Lenten sermons in a country place. The wife of a rich peasant sat under the pulpit, and thought all the time what a nice-looking man he was, instead of listening to his exhortations to penance.

A friar came to give the Lenten sermons in a rural area. The wife of a wealthy farmer sat beneath the pulpit, and the whole time, she thought about what a handsome man he was, rather than paying attention to his calls for repentance.

When the sermon was over she went home and took out half-a-dozen nice fine pocket-handkerchiefs, and sent them to him by her maid, with a very civil note to beg him to come and see her. [335]

When the sermon finished, she went home, pulled out half a dozen nice pocket handkerchiefs, and sent them to him with her maid, along with a polite note asking him to come and visit her. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

As the maid was going out, the husband met her.

As the maid was leaving, the husband ran into her.

‘Where are you going?’ said he.

‘Where are you heading?’ he asked.

The maid, who did not at all like her errand, promised if he would not be angry with her, and would not let her mistress know it, she would tell him all.

The maid, who really didn’t like her task, promised that if he wouldn’t get mad at her and wouldn’t let her boss know about it, she would tell him everything.

The husband promised to hold her harmless, and she gave him the handkerchiefs and the note.

The husband promised to protect her, and she gave him the handkerchiefs and the note.

‘Come here,’ said the husband; and he took her into his room and wrote a note as if from the friar, saying he was much obliged by her presents, and would like to see the lady very much, but that it was impossible they could meet, so she must not think of it. This note the maid took back to her mistress as if from the friar.

‘Come here,’ said the husband; and he took her into his room and wrote a note as if from the friar, saying he was very grateful for her gifts and would love to see her, but that it was impossible for them to meet, so she shouldn’t think about it. The maid took this note back to her mistress as if it were from the friar.

A few days after this the husband gave out that he would have to go to a fair, and would be away two or three days. Immediately the wife took a pound of the best snuff and sent it as a present to the friar by the same maid with another note, saying the husband was going away on such an evening, and if he then came to see her at an hour after the Ave he would find the door open. This also the maid took to her master; the husband took the snuff and wrote an answer, as if from the friar, to say he would keep the appointment. In the evening he said good-bye to his wife, and went away. But he went to the butcher and bought a stout beef sinew, and at the hour appointed for the friar, he came back dressed as a friar, and beat her with the beef sinew till she was half dead. Then he went down in the kitchen and sent the servant up to heal her, and went away for three days. When he came back the wife was still doubled up, and suffering from the beating.

A few days later, the husband announced that he would be going to a fair and would be away for two or three days. Right away, the wife took a pound of the best snuff and sent it as a gift to the friar through the same maid, along with a note saying that the husband would be leaving on such an evening, and if the friar came to see her an hour after the Ave, he would find the door open. The maid delivered this to her master; the husband accepted the snuff and wrote a response, pretending it was from the friar, saying he would keep the appointment. That evening, he said goodbye to his wife and left. But he went to the butcher and bought a thick piece of beef sinew, and at the appointed time for the friar's visit, he returned dressed as a friar and beat her with the beef sinew until she was half dead. Then he went down to the kitchen and sent the servant up to attend to her and left for three days. When he returned, the wife was still curled up and in pain from the beating.

‘What is the matter?’ he said, sympathisingly.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, with concern.

‘Oh! I fell down the cellar stairs.’

‘Oh! I fell down the basement stairs.’

‘What do you mean by leaving your mistress to go down to the cellar?’ he cried out to the servant, with [336]great solicitude. ‘How can you allow her to do such things? What’s the use of you?’

‘What do you mean by leaving your mistress to go down to the cellar?’ he shouted at the servant, with [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]great concern. ‘How can you let her do things like that? What good are you?’

‘Don’t scold the servant,’ answered the wife; ‘it wasn’t her fault. I shall be all right soon.’ And she made as light of her ailment as she could, to keep him from asking her any more questions. But he was discreet enough to say no more.

‘Don’t blame the servant,’ the wife replied; ‘it wasn’t her fault. I’ll be fine soon.’ She tried to dismiss her illness as much as she could to keep him from asking her more questions. But he was considerate enough to say no more.

Only when she was well again he sent to the friar and asked him to come home to dine with them.

Only when she was better did he send for the friar and invite him to come home for dinner with them.

‘My wife is subject to odd fancies sometimes,’ he said, as they walked home. ‘If she should do anything extravagant, don’t you mind; I shall be there to call her to order.’

‘My wife sometimes has strange ideas,’ he said as they walked home. ‘If she does anything over-the-top, don’t worry; I’ll be there to rein her in.’

Then he told the servant to bring in the soup and the boiled meat without waiting for orders, but to keep the grill back till he came to the kitchen door to call her.

Then he told the servant to bring in the soup and the boiled meat without waiting for any instructions, but to hold back the grill until he came to the kitchen door to call her.

At the time for the grill, therefore, he got up from table to go and call her, and thus left his wife and the friar alone together. They were no sooner alone than she got up, and calling him a horrid friar, gave him a sound drubbing. The husband came back in time to prevent mischief, and to make excuses; and finding she was cured of her affection, said no more of the affair.

At the time for the barbecue, he stood up from the table to go call her, leaving his wife and the friar alone together. As soon as they were alone, she stood up, called him a horrible friar, and gave him a good beating. The husband returned just in time to stop any trouble and to apologize, and seeing that she had gotten over her affection, he said nothing more about the situation.

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

ASS OR PIG.1

A countryman was going along driving a pig before him. ‘Let’s have a bit of fun with that fellow,’ said the brother porter of a monastery to the father guardian,2 as they saw him coming along the road. ‘I’ll call his pig an ass, and of course he’ll say it’s a pig; then I shall laugh at him for not knowing better, and he will grow angry. Then I’ll say, “Well, will you have the father guardian to settle the dispute? and if he decides I’m right I shall keep the beast for myself.” Then you come and say it is an ass, and we’ll keep it.’ [337]

A farmer was walking along, driving a pig in front of him. “Let’s have some fun with that guy,” said one of the porters from a monastery to the head guardian, as they saw him coming down the road. “I’ll call his pig a donkey, and of course he’ll insist it’s a pig; then I’ll mock him for not knowing any better, and he’ll get mad. Then I’ll say, ‘How about we let the father guardian settle this? If he rules in my favor, I’ll keep the animal for myself.’ Then you come in and say it’s a donkey, and we’ll take it.” [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

The father guardian agreed, with a hearty laugh; and as soon as the countryman came up the brother porter did all as he had arranged.

The father guardian agreed with a hearty laugh, and as soon as the countryman arrived, the brother porter did everything as he had planned.

The countryman was so sure of his case that he willingly submitted to the arbitration of the father guardian; but great was his dismay when the father guardian decided against him, and he had to go home without his pig.

The farmer was so confident in his situation that he gladly accepted the judgment of the father guardian; but he was greatly dismayed when the father guardian ruled against him, and he had to go home without his pig.

But what did the countryman do? He dressed himself up as a poor girl, and about nightfall, and a storm coming on, he rang at the bell of the monastery and entreated the charity of shelter for the night.

But what did the countryman do? He put on a disguise as a poor girl, and around nightfall, with a storm approaching, he rang the bell of the monastery and asked for shelter for the night.

‘Impossible!’ said the brother porter; ‘we can’t have any womenkind in here.’

‘No way!’ said the brother porter; ‘we can’t have any women in here.’

‘But the dark, and the storm!’ clamoured the pretended girl; ‘think of that. You can’t leave me out here all alone.’

‘But the dark and the storm!’ shouted the girl pretending; ‘think about that. You can’t just leave me out here all alone.’

‘I’m very sorry,’ said the porter, ‘but the thing’s impossible. I can’t do it.’

‘I’m really sorry,’ said the porter, ‘but it’s just not possible. I can’t do it.’

The good father guardian, hearing the dispute at that unusual hour, put his head out of the window and asked what it was all about.

The good father guardian, hearing the argument at that odd hour, leaned out of the window and asked what was going on.

‘It is a difficult case, brother porter,’ he said when he had heard the girl’s request. ‘If we take her in we infringe our rule in one way; if we leave her exposed to every kind of peril we sin against its spirit in another direction. I only see one way out of it. I can’t send her into any of your cells; but I will let her pass the night in mine, provided she is content not to undress, and will consent to sit up in a chair.’

‘It’s a tough situation, brother porter,’ he said after hearing the girl’s request. ‘If we take her in, we break our rule in one way; if we leave her vulnerable to all kinds of danger, we go against its spirit in another. I only see one solution. I can’t put her in any of your cells; but I’ll let her spend the night in mine, as long as she’s okay with not undressing and agrees to sit in a chair.’

This was exactly what the countryman wanted, therefore he gave a ready assent, and the father guardian took him up into his cell. The pretended girl sat up in a chair quietly enough through the dark of the night, but when morning began to dawn, out came a stick that had been hidden under the petticoats, and whack, whack3—a [338]fine drubbing the poor father guardian got, to the tune of—‘So you think I don’t know a pig from an ass, do you?’

This was exactly what the farmer wanted, so he agreed right away, and the father guardian took him up to his room. The girl pretending to be a girl sat quietly in a chair through the dark night, but when morning started to break, out came a stick that had been hidden under her dress, and whack, whack—A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__—a [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]serious beating the poor father guardian received, to the tune of—‘So you think I don’t know a pig from a donkey, huh?’

When he had well bruised him all over, the countryman made the best of his way downstairs, and off and away he was before anyone could catch him.

When he had thoroughly beaten him up, the countryman quickly made his way downstairs and left before anyone could stop him.

The next day what did he do? He dressed up like a doctor, and came round asking if anyone had any ailments to cure.

The next day, what did he do? He dressed up like a doctor and went around asking if anyone had any health issues to fix.

‘That’s just the thing for us,’ said the brother porter to himself as he saw him come by. ‘The father guardian was afraid to let the doctor of the neighbourhood attend him, for fear of the scandal of all the story coming out; the strange doctor will just do, as there is no need to tell him anything.’

‘That’s perfect for us,’ the brother porter thought to himself as he saw him pass by. ‘The father guardian was worried about letting the local doctor treat him, afraid of the scandal if the whole story got out; the strange doctor will be just right, as we won’t need to tell him anything.’

The countryman in his new disguise, therefore, was taken up to the father guardian’s cell.

The farmer in his new disguise was then taken up to the guardian's cell.

‘There’s nothing very much the matter,’ he said when he had examined the wounds and bruises; ‘it might all be set right in a day by a certain herb,’ which he named.

‘There's really not much wrong,’ he said after looking at the wounds and bruises; ‘it could all be fixed in a day with a certain herb,’ which he named.

The herb was a difficult one to find, but as it was so important to get the father guardian cured immediately, before any inquiry should be raised as to the cause of his sufferings, the whole community set out to wander over the Campagna in search of it.

The herb was hard to find, but since it was crucial to get the father guardian treated right away, before anyone started asking about why he was suffering, the entire community set out to search the Campagna for it.

As soon as they were a good way off, the pretended doctor took out a thick stick which he held concealed under his long robe, and whack, whack—belaboured the poor father guardian more terribly even than before, to the tune of—‘So you think I don’t know an ass from a pig, do you?’

As soon as they got a good distance away, the fake doctor pulled out a thick stick he had hidden under his long robe and started whacking the poor guardian even worse than before, saying, “So you think I can’t tell an ass from a pig, huh?”

How far soever the brothers were gone, his cries were so piteous that they recalled them, but not till the countryman had made good his escape.

How far the brothers had gone, his cries were so heartbreaking that they brought them back, but only after the countryman had managed to get away.

‘We have sinned, my brethren,’ said the father guardian when they were all gathered round him; ‘and I have suffered justly for it. We had no right to take the man’s [339]pig, even for a joke. Let it now, therefore, be restored to him, and in amends let there be given him along with it an ass also.’

‘We have sinned, my brothers,’ said the father guardian when they were all gathered around him; ‘and I have justly suffered for it. We had no right to take the man’s [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]pig, even as a joke. So let’s restore it to him, and in addition, let’s give him a donkey as well.’

So the countryman got his pig back, and a donkey into the bargain.

So the farmer got his pig back, and a donkey as a bonus.

1 ‘Asino o porco.’ ↑

1 'Donkey or pig.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Padre Guardiano’ is the ordinary title of the Superior in Franciscan convents. ↑

2 ‘Padre Guardiano’ is the usual title for the Superior in Franciscan convents. ↑

3 ‘Zicherte! Zacherte!’ ↑

3 ‘Absolutely! Definitely!’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE SEVEN CLODHOPPERS.1

Seven clodhoppers went to confession.

Seven clods went to confession.

‘Father, I stole something,’ said the first.

‘Dad, I took something,’ said the first.

‘What was it you stole?’ asked the priest.

‘What did you steal?’ asked the priest.

‘Some mistuanza,2 because I was starving,’ replied the country bumpkin.

‘Some mistuanza,2 because I was really hungry,’ replied the country bumpkin.

That the poor fellow, who really looked as if he might have been starving, should have stolen some herbs did not seem such a very grave offence; so with due advice to keep his hands from picking and stealing, and a psalm to say for his penance, the priest sent him to communion.

That the poor guy, who honestly looked like he might have been starving, stealing some herbs didn’t seem like such a big deal; so after giving him a warning to stop picking and stealing, and a psalm to recite for penance, the priest sent him to communion.

Then came the second, and there was the same dialogue. Then the third and the fourth, till all the seven had been up.

Then the second came, and the same conversation happened. Then the third and the fourth, until all seven had been up.

At last the priest began to think it was a very odd circumstance that such a number of full-grown men should all of a sudden have taken into their heads to go stealing salad herbs; and when the seventh had had his say he rejoined,—

At last, the priest started to think it was really strange that so many grown men suddenly decided to steal salad herbs; and when the seventh one finished speaking, he replied,—

‘But what do you mean by mistuanza?’

‘But what do you mean by mistuanza?’

‘Oh, any mixture of things,’ replied the countryman.

‘Oh, just a mix of things,’ replied the countryman.

‘Nay; that’s not the way we use the word,’ responded the priest; ‘so tell me what “things” you mean.’

‘No; that’s not how we use the word,’ responded the priest; ‘so tell me what “things” you mean.’

‘Oh, some cow, some pig, and some fowl.’3 [340]

‘Oh, some cow, some pig, and some chicken.’3 [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘You men of the mistuanza!’ shouted the priest in righteous indignation, starting out of the confessional; ‘Come back! come back! you can’t go to communion like that.’

‘You men of the mistuanza!’ shouted the priest in righteous anger, emerging from the confessional; ‘Come back! Come back! You can't take communion like that.’

The seven clodhoppers, finding themselves discovered, began to fear the rigour of justice, and decamped as fast as they could.

The seven clodhoppers, realizing they had been found out, started to panic about facing the consequences and took off as quickly as they could.

[Next to gossiping jokes on subjects kindred to religion are jokes about domestic disputes, the greater blame being generally ascribed to the wife.] [341]

[Next to gossiping jokes on topics related to religion are jokes about family arguments, with the majority of the blame usually directed at the wife.] [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘I sette Villani.’ ↑

1 'The Seven Villains.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Un po’ di mistuanza.’ ‘Mistuanza’ is a word in use among the poor for a mixture of herbs of which they make a kind of poor salad. ↑

2 'A bit of mistuanza.' 'Mistuanza' is a term used by the poor for a mix of herbs that they turn into a sort of basic salad. ↑

3 ‘Un po’ di bove, un po’ di porchi, un po’ di galline.’

3 "A bit of beef, a bit of pork, a bit of chicken."

‘Un po’ (un poco) a little. The effect of the story depended a good deal on the tones of voice in which it was told. The deprecatory tone of the penitent as he says, ‘un po’ di bove,’ &c., and the horror of the priest as he cries out, ‘Signori della mistuanza!’

‘Un po’ (un poco) a little. The effect of the story relied heavily on the tones of voice used to tell it. The dismissive tone of the penitent as he says, ‘un po’ di bove,’ etc., and the horror of the priest as he exclaims, ‘Signori della mistuanza!’

This same story in quite another dress was told me one evening in Aldershot Camp; and as it is a very curious instance of the migration of myths, I give the home version.

This same story, but with a different twist, was shared with me one evening at Aldershot Camp; and since it's a really interesting example of how myths move and evolve, I'll share the original version.

It would seem that in Aldershot lingo, or in the lingo of a certain regiment once stationed there, to ‘kill a fox’ means to get drunk. Possibly the expression was acquired during the Peninsular war, as ‘tomar una zorrilla’ has an equivalent meaning in Spanish. The story was this. Once during the brief holiday of the chaplain of the regiment, a French priest who knew a little English took his place. At confession the chief fault of which, according to the story, the men accused themselves was that they had ‘killed a fox,’ an expression perfectly well understood by their own pastor. The good French priest, however, instead of being shocked at finding how often men got drunk, was highly edified at the angelic simplicity of these Angles, who showed so much contrition for having indulged in the innocent pastime—in France, not even an offence among sportsmen—of having killed a fox.

It seems that in Aldershot slang, or in the slang of a certain regiment that was once based there, to 'kill a fox' means to get drunk. This expression may have originated during the Peninsular War, as ‘take a young female fox’ has a similar meaning in Spanish. Here’s the story. Once, during the short holiday of the regiment's chaplain, a French priest who spoke a little English filled in for him. During confession, the main sin the men admitted to, according to the story, was that they had 'killed a fox,' an expression perfectly understood by their own pastor. The good French priest, however, instead of being shocked at how often these men got drunk, was actually impressed by the innocent simplicity of these Angles, who showed so much remorse for indulging in what is, in France, not even considered an offense among sportsmen—the innocent pastime of killing a fox.

At last there came one of a more humorous turn of mind than the rest, and the surnois air with which he pronounced the expression revealed to the good Frenchman that the words meant something more than they said.

At last, someone with a more humorous perspective than the others spoke up, and the sarcastic tone with which he expressed himself made the good Frenchman realize that the words meant something deeper than their surface meaning.

‘Vat mean you ven you say, “kill de fox?”’ now inquired the Frenchman of his penitent with fear and trembling. And the blunt soldier had no sooner expounded the slang than the bewildered foreigner threw open the front wicket of the confessional and cried aloud:

‘What do you mean when you say, “kill the fox?”’ the Frenchman asked his penitent, feeling scared and anxious. As soon as the straightforward soldier explained the slang, the confused foreigner threw open the front gate of the confessional and shouted:

‘Come back! all you dat have killed de foxes! Come back! come back!’ ↑

‘Come back! all you that have killed the foxes! Come back! come back!’ ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE LITTLE BIRD.1

There was an old couple who earned a poor living by working hard all day in the fields.

There was an elderly couple who made a meager living by toiling away in the fields all day.

‘See how hard we work all day,’ said the wife; ‘and it all comes of the foolish curiosity of Adam and Eve. If it had not been for that we should have been living now in a beautiful garden, with nothing to do all day long.’

‘Look at how hard we work all day,’ said the wife; ‘and it all comes from the foolish curiosity of Adam and Eve. If it weren't for that, we would be living in a beautiful garden right now, with nothing to do all day long.’

‘Yes,’ said the husband; ‘if you and I had been there, instead of Adam and Eve, all the human race had been in Paradise still.’

‘Yes,’ said the husband; ‘if you and I had been there instead of Adam and Eve, all of humanity would still be in Paradise.’

The count, their master, overheard them talking in this way, and he came to them and said: ‘How would you like it if I took you up into my palazzo there, to live and gave you servants to wait on you, and plenty to eat and drink?’

The count, their master, overheard them talking like this, so he approached them and said, "How would you feel if I brought you up to my palace there to live, gave you servants to attend to you, and plenty of food and drinks?"

‘Oh, that would be delightful indeed! That would be as good as Paradise itself!’ answered husband and wife together.

‘Oh, that would be absolutely wonderful! It would be just like Paradise itself!’ replied both husband and wife.

‘Well, you may come up there if you think so. Only remember, in Paradise there was one tree that was not to be touched; so at my table there will be one dish not to be touched. You mustn’t mind that,’ said the count.

‘Well, you can come up there if you want. Just remember, in Paradise there was one tree that was off-limits; so at my table there will be one dish you can’t touch. You shouldn’t let that bother you,’ said the count.

‘Oh, of course not,’ replied the old peasant; ‘that’s just what I say: when Eve had all the fruits in the garden, what did she want with just that one that was forbidden? And if we, who are used to the scantiest victuals, are supplied with enough to live well, what does it matter to us whether there is an extra dish or not on the table?’

‘Oh, of course not,’ replied the old peasant; ‘that’s exactly what I mean: when Eve had all the fruits in the garden, why did she want just that one that was off-limits? And if we, who are used to having the bare minimum, have enough to live well, what difference does it make to us if there’s an extra dish on the table or not?’

‘Very well reasoned,’ said the count. ‘We quite understand each other, then?’

‘Well said,’ said the count. ‘So we understand each other, right?’

‘Perfectly,’ replied both husband and wife.

‘Absolutely,’ replied both husband and wife.

‘You come to live at my palace, and have everything you can want there, so long as you don’t open one dish2 [342]which there will be in the middle of the table. If you open that you go back to your former way of life.’

‘You can live in my palace and have everything you want, as long as you don’t open one particular dish2 [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] that will be in the middle of the table. If you open that, you’ll go back to your old life.’

‘We quite understand,’ answered the peasants.

‘We totally get it,’ answered the peasants.

The count went in and called his servant, and told him to give the peasants an apartment to themselves, with everything they could want, and a sumptuous dinner, only in the middle of the table was to be an earthen dish, into which he was to put a little bird alive, so that if one lifted the cover the bird would fly out. He was to stay in the room and wait on them, and report to him what happened.

The count went in and called for his servant, instructing him to give the peasants a private room with everything they might need, along with a lavish dinner. However, in the center of the table was to be an earthen dish with a small live bird inside, so that when the cover was lifted, the bird would fly out. The servant was to remain in the room, attend to them, and report back on what happened.

The old people sat down to dinner, and praised everything they saw, so delightful it all seemed.

The elderly gathered for dinner and admired everything around them; it all felt so wonderful.

‘Look! that’s the dish we’re not to touch,’ said the wife.

‘Look! That’s the dish we’re not supposed to touch,’ said the wife.

‘No; better not look at it,’ said the husband.

‘No; it's better not to look at it,’ said the husband.

‘Pshaw! there’s no danger of wanting to open it, when we have such a lot of dishes to eat our fill out of,’ returned the wife.

‘Pshaw! there’s no risk of wanting to open it when we have so many dishes to enjoy,’ replied the wife.

So they set to, and made such a repast as they had never dreamed of before. By degrees, however, as the novelty of the thing wore off, they grew more and more desirous for something newer and newer still. Though when they at first sat down it had seemed that two dishes would be ample to satisfy them, they had now had seven or eight and they were wishing there might be others coming. There is an end to all things human, and no other came; there only remained the earthen dish in the middle of the table.

So they got to work and prepared a feast like nothing they'd ever imagined before. But gradually, as the novelty wore off, they became increasingly eager for something even newer. At first, they thought that two dishes would be more than enough, but after having seven or eight, they found themselves hoping for more. Everything human has its limits, and no additional dishes came; only the clay dish remained in the center of the table.

‘We might just lift the lid up a little wee bit,’ said the wife.

‘We could just lift the lid up a little bit,’ said the wife.

‘No; don’t talk about it,’ said the husband.

‘No; don’t bring it up,’ said the husband.

The wife sat still for five minutes, and then she said: ‘If one just lifted up one corner of the lid it could scarcely be called opening it, you know.’

The wife sat quietly for five minutes, and then she said: ‘If someone just lifted one corner of the lid, it hardly counts as opening it, you know.’

‘Better leave it alone altogether, and not think about it at all,’ said the husband. [343]

‘It's better to just ignore it completely and not think about it at all,’ said the husband. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

The wife sat still another five minutes, and then she said: ‘If one peeped in just the least in the world it would not be any harm, surely; and I should so like to know what there can possibly be. Now, what can the count have put in that dish?’

The wife stayed quiet for another five minutes, and then she said: ‘If someone took just a quick look, it wouldn’t hurt, right? I really want to know what could possibly be in there. So, what could the count have put in that dish?’

‘I’m sure I can’t guess in the least,’ said the husband; ‘and I must say I can’t see what it can signify to him if we did look at it.’

‘I’m definitely not sure,’ said the husband, ‘and honestly, I don’t see what it really matters to him if we did look at it.’

‘No; that’s what I think. And besides, how would he know if we peeped? it wouldn’t hurt him,’ said the wife.

‘No; that’s what I think. And besides, how would he know if we looked? It wouldn’t hurt him,’ said the wife.

‘No; as you say, one could just take a look,’ said the husband.

‘No; as you said, we could just take a look,’ the husband replied.

The wife didn’t want more encouragement than that. But when she lifted one side of the lid the least mite she could see nothing. She opened it the least mite more, and the bird flew out. The servant ran and told his master, and the count came down and drove them out, bidding them never complain of Adam and Eve any more.

The wife didn’t want any more encouragement than that. But when she lifted one side of the lid just a little, she couldn’t see anything. She opened it a bit more, and the bird flew out. The servant ran and told his master, and the count came down and kicked them out, telling them never to complain about Adam and Eve again.

1 ‘L’uccelletto,’ the little bird. ↑

1 ‘The little bird,’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Terrino,’ a high earthen dish with a cover, probably the origin of our ‘tureen,’ almost the only kind of Italian dish that ever has a cover. ↑

2 ‘Terrino,’ a large earthenware bowl with a lid, likely the source of our ‘tureen,’ is almost the only type of Italian dish that typically comes with a cover. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE DEVIL WHO TOOK TO HIMSELF A WIFE.1

Listen, and I will tell you what the devil did who took to himself a wife.

Listen, and I'll tell you what the devil did when he got himself a wife.

Ages and ages ago, in the days when the devil was loose—for now he is chained and can’t go about like that any more—the head devil2 called the others, and said, ‘Whichever of you proves himself the boldest and cleverest, I will give him his release, and set him free from Inferno.’

A long time ago, when the devil was still roaming free—now he's locked up and can't run around like that anymore—the main devil2 gathered the others and said, ‘Whoever among you shows they're the boldest and smartest, I will grant them their freedom and release them from Hell.’

So they all set to work and did all manner of wild and terrible things, and the one who pleased the head devil best was set free. [344]

So they all got to work and did all sorts of crazy and awful things, and the one who impressed the head devil the most was set free. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

This devil being set free, went upon earth, and thought he would live like the children of men. So he took a wife, and, of course, he chose one who was handsome and fashionable3, but he didn’t think about anything else, and he soon found that she was no housewife, was never satisfied unless she was gadding out somewhere, would not take a word of reproof, and, what was more, she spent all his money.

This devil was set free and decided to live among humans. So, he married a woman who was attractive and stylish 3, but he didn’t consider anything beyond that. He quickly realized she wasn’t cut out to be a homemaker, was never happy unless she was out and about, wouldn’t take any criticism, and, to top it off, she spent all his money.

Every day there were furious quarrels; it was bad enough while the money lasted—and he had brought a good provision with him—but when the money came to an end it was much worse; he was ever reproaching her with extravagance, and she him with stinginess and deception.

Every day there were intense arguments; it was bad enough while the money lasted—and he had brought a good supply with him—but when the money ran out it was even worse; he was constantly accusing her of being wasteful, and she him of being cheap and dishonest.

At last he said to her one day, ‘It’s no use making a piece of work; I’m quite tired of this sort of life; I shall go back to Hell, which is a much quieter place than a house where you are. But I don’t mind doing you a good turn first. I’ll go and possess myself of a certain queen. You dress up like a doctor, and say you will heal her, and all you will have to do will be to pretend to use some ointments4 for two or three days, on which I will go out of her. Then they will be so delighted with you for healing her that they will give you a lot of money, on which you can live for the rest of your days, and I will go back to Hell.’ But though he said this, it was only to get rid of her. As soon as he had provided her with the price for casting him out once, he meant to go and amuse himself on earth in other ways; he had no real intention of going back to Hell. Then he instructed her in the means by which she was to find out the queen of whom he was to possess himself, and went his way.

Finally, one day he said to her, “There’s no point in pretending anymore; I’m really tired of this life. I’m going back to Hell, which is a lot quieter than living with you. But first, I don’t mind helping you out. I’ll go after a certain queen. You dress up like a doctor and claim you can heal her. All you have to do is pretend to use some ointments4 for a couple of days, and then I’ll leave her. After that, they’ll be so grateful to you for ‘healing’ her that they’ll give you a bunch of money, and you can live off that for the rest of your life while I head back to Hell.” But even though he said this, it was just a way to get rid of her. Once he set her up with the price to cast him out for one time, he planned to have fun on Earth in other ways; he never really intended to return to Hell. Then he explained how she could find the queen he was going to take over and went on his way.

The wife, by following the direction he gave, soon found him, and, dressed as a doctor, effected the cure; that is, she made herself known to him in applying the ointments, and he went away as he had agreed.

The wife, by following the instructions he provided, quickly found him, and, dressed as a doctor, performed the cure; that is, she revealed her identity while applying the ointments, and he left just as they had agreed.

When the king and the court saw what a wonderful [345]cure had been effected, they gave the woman a sackfull of scudi, but all the people went on talking of her success.

When the king and the court saw what an amazing [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]cure had been achieved, they gave the woman a sack full of scudi, but everyone kept talking about her success.

The devil meantime had possessed himself of another sovereign, a king this time, and everybody in the kingdom was very desirous to have him cured, and went inquiring everywhere for a remedy. Thus they heard of the fame of the last cure by the devil’s wife. Then they immediately sent for her and insisted that she should cure this king too. But she, not sure whether he would go out a second time at her bidding, refused as long as she could; but they took her, and said, ‘Unless you cure him we shall kill you!’

The devil had meanwhile taken over another ruler, this time a king, and everyone in the kingdom was eager to see him healed, searching everywhere for a solution. They soon heard about the success of the last treatment done by the devil’s wife. So, they quickly summoned her, insisting that she should heal this king as well. However, she wasn't sure if he would respond to her again, so she hesitated as long as possible. But they grabbed her and said, “If you don't cure him, we will kill you!”

‘Then,’ she said, ‘you must shut me up alone with this king, and I will try what I can do.’

‘Then,’ she said, ‘you have to leave me alone with this king, and I’ll see what I can do.’

So she was shut up alone with him.

So she was alone with him.

‘What! you here again!’ said the devil as soon as he perceived her. ‘No; that won’t do this time. I am very comfortable inside this old king, and I mean to stay here.’

‘What! You back again!’ said the devil as soon as he saw her. ‘No; that’s not happening this time. I’m really comfortable inside this old king, and I plan to stay here.’

‘But they threaten to kill me if I don’t make you go; so what am I to do?’ answered the wife.

‘But they’re threatening to kill me if I don’t make you leave; so what should I do?’ replied the wife.

‘I can’t help that,’ he replied; ‘you must get out of the scrape the best way you can.’

‘I can’t help that,’ he replied; ‘you’ll have to get out of this situation the best way you can.’

At this she got in a passion, and, as she used to do in the days when they were living together, rated him so fiercely that at last he was fain to go to escape her scolding.

At this, she got really angry, and, just like she used to when they lived together, she scolded him so harshly that eventually, he felt he had to leave to get away from her yelling.

Once more she received a high price for the cure, and her fame got the more bruited abroad.

Once again, she was paid a high price for the cure, and her fame spread even more widely.

But the devil went into another queen, and possessed himself of her. The fame of the two cures had spread so far that the wife was soon called in to try her powers again.

But the devil entered another queen and took control of her. The news of the two healings spread so widely that the wife was soon summoned to test her abilities again.

‘I really can’t,’ she pleaded; but the people said:

‘I really can’t,’ she pleaded; but the people said:

‘What you did for the other two you can do for this one; and, if you don’t, we will cut off your head.’ [346]

‘What you did for the other two, you can do for this one; and if you don’t, we’ll cut off your head.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

To save her head, therefore, she said, ‘Then you must shut me up in a room alone with the queen.’

To save herself, she said, 'Then you need to lock me in a room alone with the queen.'

So she was shut up in the room with her.

So she was locked in the room with her.

‘What! you here again!’ exclaimed the devil as soon as he perceived her. ‘No; I positively won’t go this time; I couldn’t be better off than inside this old queen, and till you came I was perfectly happy.’

‘What! You’re here again!’ exclaimed the devil as soon as he saw her. ‘No; I absolutely won’t go this time; I couldn’t be better off than inside this old queen, and until you arrived, I was perfectly happy.’

‘They threaten to take my head if I don’t make you go; so what am I to do?’

‘They threaten to kill me if I don’t make you leave; so what am I supposed to do?’

‘Then let them take your head, and let that be an end of it,’ replied the devil testily.

‘Then let them take your head, and let that be the end of it,’ the devil replied irritably.

‘You are a pretty husband, indeed, to say such a speech to a wife!’ answered she in a high-pitched voice, which he knew was the foretaste of one of those terrible storms he could never resist.

'You’re quite the charming husband to say something like that to your wife!' she replied in a shrill voice, which he recognized as the warning sign of one of those awful arguments he could never escape.

Basta! she stormed so loud that she sickened him of her for good and all, and this time, to escape her, instead of possessing himself of any more kings and queens, he went straight off to Hell, and never came forth any more for fear of meeting her.

Basta! she shouted so loudly that he became completely fed up with her, and this time, to get away from her, instead of trying to take control of more kings and queens, he went straight to Hell and never came back out for fear of running into her.

[For variants of this Ciarpa, see Ralston’s ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ pp. 37–43; ‘The Ill-tempered Princess’ in ‘Patrañas,’ &c.]

[For variants of this Ciarpa, see Ralston’s ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ pp. 37–43; ‘The Ill-tempered Princess’ in ‘Patrañas,’ etc.]

1 ‘Il Diavolo che prese Moglie.’ ↑

1 ‘The Devil Who Took a Wife.’ ↑

2 ‘Il Capo diavolo.’ ↑

2 'The Devil's Head.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

3 ‘Il più bravo.’ ↑

3 'The best.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4 Witches were generally accused of communicating with the Devil, going to midnight meetings with him, &c., by means of ointments. See ‘Del Rio,’ lib. ii. Q. xvi. p. 81, col. 1, C., and lib. iii. P. 1, 2, ii. p. 155, col. 1, B., &c., &c. ↑

4 Witches were often blamed for having connections with the Devil, attending midnight gatherings with him, etc., using ointments. See ‘Del Rio,’ lib. ii. Q. xvi. p. 81, col. 1, C., and lib. iii. P. 1, 2, ii. p. 155, col. 1, B., etc., etc. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE ROOT.

There was a rich count who married an extravagant wife. As he had plenty of money he let her spend whatever she liked. But he had no idea what a woman could spend, and very much surprised was he when he found that dressmakers, [347]and milliners, and hairdressers, and shoemakers had made such a hole in his fortune that there was very little left. He saw it was high time to look after it, and he ventured to tender some words of remonstrance; but the moment he began to speak about it she went into hysterics. There was such a dreadful scene that he feared to approach the subject again, but the matter became so serious that at last he was obliged to do so. The least allusion, however, brought on another fit of hysterics.

There was a wealthy count who married a lavish wife. Since he had plenty of money, he let her spend whatever she wanted. But he had no idea how much a woman could spend, and he was very surprised when he found out that dressmakers, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__], milliners, hairdressers, and shoemakers had taken such a toll on his fortune that there was hardly anything left. He realized it was time to take control of his finances, and he tried to bring it up, but the moment he started talking about it, she had a meltdown. The scene was so terrible that he was afraid to mention it again, but things got so serious that he eventually had to. However, even the slightest mention of it triggered another meltdown.

What was he to do? To go on at this extravagant rate was impossible; equally impossible was it to endure the terrible scenes which ensued when he attempted to make her more careful.

What was he supposed to do? Continuing at this outrageous pace was impossible; just as impossible was enduring the awful scenes that followed when he tried to get her to be more careful.

At last he went to a doctor whom he knew, and asked him if he could give him any remedy for hysterics, telling him the whole story of what he wanted it for.

At last, he went to a doctor he knew and asked if he could provide any treatment for hysteria, sharing the entire story of why he needed it.

‘Oh, yes!’ replied the doctor; ‘I have an infallible cure. It is a certain root which must be applied very sharply to the back of the neck. If it doesn’t succeed with the first half-dozen applications, you must go on till it does. It never fails in the end.’ So saying, he gave him a stout root, as thick as a walking stick, with a knobbed end.

‘Oh, yes!’ replied the doctor. ‘I have a foolproof cure. It’s a specific root that needs to be applied firmly to the back of the neck. If it doesn’t work after the first six applications, you just keep going until it does. It never fails in the end.’ As he said this, he handed him a sturdy root, as thick as a walking stick, with a knobby end.

Strong with the promised remedy, the husband went home, and sent word to all the dressmakers, milliners, hairdressers, and shoemakers that he would pay for nothing more except what he ordered himself. Indeed he met the shoemaker on the step of the door, who had just come to take the measure for a pair of velvet slippers.

Strong with the promised solution, the husband went home and informed all the dressmakers, milliners, hairdressers, and shoemakers that he would only pay for what he ordered himself. In fact, he ran into the shoemaker on the doorstep, who had just arrived to take measurements for a pair of velvet slippers.

‘Don’t bring them,’ he said; ‘she has seven or eight pairs already, and that is quite enough.’

‘Don’t bring them,’ he said; ‘she already has seven or eight pairs, and that’s more than enough.’

Then he went up to his wife, and told her what he had done. Such a scene of hysterics as he had never imagined before awaited him now, but he, full of confidence in his remedy, took no notice further than to go up [348]to her and apply the root very smartly to the back of her neck as he had been directed.

Then he approached his wife and told her what he had done. He was met with a level of hysteria he had never imagined before, but, confident in his solution, he didn’t pay much attention to it. Instead, he went up [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]to her and skillfully applied the root to the back of her neck as he had been instructed.

‘But to me it seems that was all one with beating her with a stick,’ exclaimed another old woman who was sitting in the room knitting.

‘But to me, it feels like that was just as bad as hitting her with a stick,’ exclaimed another old woman who was sitting in the room knitting.

‘Of course! That’s just the fun of it!’ replied the narrator. ‘And the beauty of it was that he was so simple that he thought it was some virtue in the root that was to effect the cure.’

‘Of course! That’s the fun of it!’ replied the narrator. ‘And the beauty of it was that he was so naive that he believed it was some goodness in the root that was going to bring about the cure.’

The hysterics stopped, and he ran off to the doctor to thank him for the capital remedy. The wife ran off, too, and went to her friends crying with terrible complaints that her husband would not allow her a single thing to put on, and, moreover, had even been beating her.

The shouting stopped, and he rushed to the doctor to thank him for the amazing remedy. The wife quickly left as well, crying to her friends with horrible complaints that her husband wouldn’t let her wear anything at all and had even been hitting her.

When the count got back from the doctor, he found the father and half the family there ready to abuse him for making his wife go about with nothing on, and beating her into the bargain.

When the count returned from the doctor, he discovered the father and half the family waiting to scold him for letting his wife walk around without clothes and for hitting her too.

‘It is all a mistake,’ said the count. ‘I will allow her everything that is right, only I will order myself what I pay for; and, as to beating her, I only applied this root which I got from the doctor to cure hysterics; nothing more.’

‘It’s all a mistake,’ said the count. ‘I’ll give her everything she deserves, but I will control what I pay for; and as for hitting her, I only used this root that the doctor gave me to treat hysteria; nothing more.’

‘Oh! it’s a case of hysterics is it!’ said the father; ‘then it is all quite right,’ and he and the rest went away; and the count and his wife got on very well after that, and he never had to make use of the doctor’s root again.

‘Oh! So it's just hysterics, is it?’ said the father. ‘Then that’s all good,’ and he and the others left. After that, the count and his wife got along very well, and he never had to use the doctor’s remedy again.

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE QUEEN AND THE TRIPE-SELLER.1

They say there was a queen who had such a bad temper that she made everybody about her miserable. Whatever her husband might do to please her, she was always discontented, and as for her maids she was always slapping their faces. [349]

They say there was a queen with such a terrible temper that she made everyone around her unhappy. No matter what her husband did to make her happy, she was always dissatisfied, and when it came to her maids, she was constantly slapping their faces. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

There was a fairy who saw all this, and she said to herself, ‘This must not be allowed to go on;’ so she went and called another fairy, and said, ‘What shall we do to teach this naughty queen to behave herself?’ and they could not imagine what to do with her; so they agreed to think it over, and meet again another day.

There was a fairy who saw all this, and she thought to herself, ‘This can’t continue;’ so she went and called another fairy, and said, ‘What should we do to make this naughty queen behave?’ They couldn’t figure out what to do with her, so they decided to think it over and meet again another day.

When they met again, the first fairy said to the other, ‘Well, have you found any plan for correcting this naughty queen?’

When they met again, the first fairy said to the other, ‘So, have you come up with a plan to deal with this troublesome queen?’

‘Yes,’ replied the second fairy; ‘I have found an excellent plan. I have been up and all over the whole town, and in a little dirty back lane2 I have found a tripe-seller as like to this queen as two peas.’3

‘Yes,’ replied the second fairy; ‘I have found a great plan. I have been around the entire town, and in a little dirty back alley 2 I found a tripe-seller who looks just like this queen, as similar as two peas.’ 3

‘Excellent!’ exclaimed the first fairy. ‘I see what you mean to do. One of us will take some of the queen’s clothes and dress up the tripe-seller, and the other will take some of the tripe-seller’s clothes and dress up the queen in them, and then we will exchange them till the queen learns better manners.’

‘Awesome!’ exclaimed the first fairy. ‘I get what you’re planning. One of us will grab some of the queen’s clothes and dress up the tripe-seller, while the other will take some of the tripe-seller’s clothes and dress up the queen in them. Then we’ll swap them until the queen learns better manners.’

‘That’s the plan,’ replied the second fairy. ‘You have said it exactly. When shall we begin?’

‘That’s the plan,’ replied the second fairy. ‘You’ve got it just right. When do we start?’

‘This very night,’ said the first fairy.

"Tonight," said the first fairy.

‘Agreed!’ said the second fairy; and that very night, while everyone else was gone quietly to bed they went, one into the palace and fetched some of the queen’s clothes, and, bringing them to the tripe-seller’s room, placed them by the side of her bed; and the other went to the tripe-seller’s room and fetched her clothes, and took them and put them by the side of the queen’s bed. They also woke them very early, and when each got up she put on the things that were by the side of the bed, thinking they were the things she had left there the night before. Thus the queen was dressed like a tripe-seller, and the tripe-seller like a queen.

‘Agreed!’ said the second fairy; and that night, while everyone else quietly went to bed, one of them slipped into the palace and got some of the queen’s clothes, bringing them to the tripe-seller’s room and placing them by her bed; the other one went to the tripe-seller’s room and took her clothes, putting them by the queen’s bed. They also woke them up very early, and when each got up, she put on the clothes that were by her bed, thinking they were the ones she had left there the night before. So, the queen ended up dressed like a tripe-seller, and the tripe-seller like a queen.

Then one fairy took the queen, dressed like a tripe-seller, and put her down in the tripe-seller’s shop, and the [350]other fairy took the tripe-seller, dressed like a queen, and placed her in the palace, and both of them did their work so swiftly that neither the queen nor the tripe-seller perceived the flight at all.

Then one fairy grabbed the queen, dressed her like a tripe seller, and set her down in the tripe seller’s shop, while the [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]other fairy took the tripe seller, dressed her like a queen, and placed her in the palace. Both of them worked so quickly that neither the queen nor the tripe seller noticed the switch at all.

The queen was very much astonished at finding herself in a tripe-shop, and began staring about, wondering how she got there.

The queen was very surprised to find herself in a tripe shop and started looking around, wondering how she ended up there.

‘Here! Don’t stand gaping about like that!’ cried the tripe-man,4 who was a very hot-tempered fellow; ‘Why, you haven’t boiled the coffee!’

‘Hey! Don’t just stand there staring like that!’ shouted the tripe-man,4 who was really short-tempered; ‘You haven’t even boiled the coffee!’

‘Boiled the coffee!’ repeated the queen, hardly apprehending what he meant.

‘Boiled the coffee!’ the queen repeated, barely understanding what he meant.

‘Yes; you haven’t boiled the coffee!’ said the tripe-man. ‘Don’t repeat my words, but do your work!’ and he took her by the shoulders, put the coffee-pot in her hand, and stood over her looking so fierce that she was frightened into doing what she had never done or seen done in all her life before.

‘Yes; you haven’t boiled the coffee!’ said the tripe man. ‘Don’t just repeat what I say, get to work!’ He grabbed her by the shoulders, put the coffee pot in her hand, and stood over her with such a fierce look that she was scared into doing something she had never done or seen done before in her life.

Presently the coffee began to boil over.

Presently, the coffee started to boil over.

‘There! Don’t waste all the coffee like that!’ cried the tripe-man, and he got up and gave her a slap, which made the tears come in her eyes.

‘Hey! Don’t waste all the coffee like that!’ shouted the tripe man, and he got up and slapped her, making her eyes tear up.

‘Don’t blubber!’ said the tripe-man; ‘but bring the coffee here and pour it out.’

‘Don’t cry!’ said the tripe-man; ‘but bring the coffee here and pour it out.’

The queen did as she was told; but when she began to drink it, though she had made it herself, it was so nasty she didn’t know how to drink it. It was very different stuff from what she got at the palace; but the tripe-man had his eye on her, and she didn’t dare not to drink it.

The queen did what she was instructed; however, when she started to drink it, even though she had prepared it herself, it tasted so bad that she didn't know how to get it down. It was completely different from what she was used to at the palace; but the tripe-man was watching her closely, and she felt she had no choice but to drink it.

‘A halfp’th of cat’s-meat!’5 sang out a small boy in the shop.

‘A halfp’th of cat’s-meat!’5 shouted a little boy in the shop.

‘Why don’t you go and serve the customer?’ said the tripe-man, knocking the cup out of the queen’s hand.

‘Why don’t you go and serve the customer?’ said the tripe-man, knocking the cup out of the queen’s hand.

Fearing another slap, she rose hastily to give the boy what he wanted, but not knowing one thing in the shop [351]from another, she gave him a large piece of the best tripe fit for a prince.

Fearing another slap, she quickly got up to give the boy what he wanted, but not knowing one thing in the shop [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] from another, she handed him a big piece of the best tripe fit for a prince.

‘Oh, what fine tripe to-day!’ cried the small boy, and ran away as fast as he could.

‘Oh, what great tripe today!’ shouted the small boy and dashed away as fast as he could.

It was in vain the tripe-man halloed after him, he was in too great a hurry to secure his prize to think of returning.

It was pointless for the tripe vendor to shout after him; he was too rushed to grab his prize to even consider going back.

‘Look what you’ve done!’ cried the tripe-man, giving the queen another slap; ‘you’ve given that boy for a penny a bunch of tripe worth a shilling.’ Luckily, other customers came in and diverted the man’s attention.

‘Look what you’ve done!’ yelled the tripe man, slapping the queen again; ‘you’ve given that kid a bunch of tripe worth a shilling for just a penny.’ Thankfully, other customers walked in and distracted the man.

Presently all the tripe hanging up had been sold, and more customers kept coming in.

Currently, all the tripe hanging up had been sold, and more customers kept coming in.

‘What has come to you, to-day!’ roared the tripe-man, as the queen stood not knowing what to do with herself. ‘Do you mean to say you haven’t washed that other lot of tripe!’ and this time he gave her a kick.

‘What’s going on with you today!’ yelled the tripe man, while the queen stood there, unsure of what to do. ‘Are you really saying you haven’t cleaned that other batch of tripe!’ and this time he kicked her.

To escape his fury, the queen turned to do her best with washing the other tripe, but she did it so awkwardly that she got a volley of abuse and blows too.

To avoid his rage, the queen tried to focus on washing the other tripe, but she did it so clumsily that she ended up receiving a torrent of insults and hits as well.

Then came dinner-time, and nothing prepared, or even bought to prepare, for dinner. Another stormy scene ensued at the discovery, and the tripe-man went to dine at the inn, leaving her to go without any dinner at all, in punishment for having neglected to prepare it.

Then dinner time came, and nothing was ready, or even bought to make dinner. Another heated argument followed this realization, and the tripe vendor went to eat at the inn, leaving her without any dinner at all as punishment for not preparing it.

While he was gone she helped all the customers to the wrong things, and, when he came home, got another scolding and more blows for her stupidity. And all through the afternoon it was the same story.

While he was away, she assisted all the customers with the wrong items, and when he returned home, she received another scolding and more hits for her foolishness. And it was the same situation all afternoon.

But the tripe-seller, when she found herself all in a palace, with half-a-dozen maids waiting to attend her, was equally bewildered. When they kept asking her if there was nothing she pleased to want, she kept answering, ‘No thank you,’ in such a gentle tone, the maids began to think that a reign of peace had come to them at last.

But the tripe-seller, when she suddenly found herself in a palace with half a dozen maids ready to help her, was just as confused. When they kept asking her if there was anything she wanted, she kept replying, “No thank you,” in such a soft tone that the maids started to think that a time of peace had finally arrived for them.

By-and-by, when the ladies came, instead of saying, as [352]the queen had been wont, ‘What an ugly dress you have got; go and take it off!’ she said, ‘How nice you look; how tasteful your dress is!’

By and by, when the ladies arrived, instead of saying, as [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]the queen usually did, ‘What an ugly dress you have; go and take it off!’ she said, ‘You look great; your dress is so stylish!’

Afterwards the king came in, bringing her a rare nosegay. Instead of throwing it on one side to vex him, as the queen had been wont, she showed so much delight, and expressed her thanks so many times, that he was quite overcome.

Afterward, the king walked in, bringing her a beautiful bouquet. Instead of tossing it aside to annoy him like the queen usually did, she showed such joy and thanked him so many times that he was completely touched.

The change that had come over the queen soon became the talk of the whole palace, and everyone congratulated himself on an improvement which made them all happy. The king was no less pleased than all the rest, and for the first time for many years he said he would drive out with the queen; for on account of her bad temper he had long given up driving with her. So the carriage came round with four prancing horses, and an escort of cavalry to ride before and behind it. The tripe-seller hardly could believe she was to drive in this splendid carriage, but the king handed her in before she knew where she was. Then, as he was so pleased with her gentle and grateful ways, he further asked her to say which way she would like to drive.

The change in the queen soon became the talk of the entire palace, and everyone congratulated themselves on how much happier it made them all. The king was just as pleased as everyone else, and for the first time in many years, he said he would go for a drive with the queen; he had long stopped driving with her because of her bad temper. So, the carriage arrived with four lively horses and a cavalry escort riding ahead and behind it. The tripe-seller could hardly believe she was going to ride in this luxurious carriage, but the king helped her in before she even realized what was happening. Then, since he was so happy with her kind and appreciative nature, he asked her which direction she would like to go.

The tripe-seller, partly because she was too much frightened to think of any other place, and partly because she thought it would be nice to drive in state through her own neighbourhood, named the broader street out of which turned the lane in which she lived, for the royal carriage could hardly have turned down the lane itself. The king repeated the order, and away drove the royal cortège.

The tripe seller, partly because she was too scared to think of anywhere else, and partly because she thought it would be nice to ride in style through her own neighborhood, named the wider street that led to the lane where she lived, since the royal carriage could hardly have gone down the lane itself. The king repeated the order, and off went the royal funeral procession.

The circumstance of the king and queen driving out together was sufficient to excite the attention of the whole population, and wherever they passed the people crowded into the streets; thus a volley of shouts and comments ran before the carriage towards the lane of the tripe-man. The tripe-man was at the moment engaged in administering a severe chastisement to the queen for [353]her latest mistake, and the roar of the people’s voices afforded a happy pretext for breaking away from him.

The sight of the king and queen driving together was enough to grab the attention of the entire population, and wherever they went, people flooded into the streets. A wave of cheers and comments surged ahead of the carriage toward the tripe vendor. At that moment, the tripe vendor was busy giving the queen a stern talking-to for her latest mistake, and the loud voices of the crowd created a perfect excuse for her to escape from him.

She ran with the rest to the opening of the lane just as the royal carriage was passing.

She ran with everyone else to the entrance of the lane just as the royal carriage was going by.

‘My husband! my husband!’ she screamed as the king drove by, and plaintive as was her voice, and different from her usual imperious tone, he heard it and turned his head towards her.

‘My husband! my husband!’ she screamed as the king drove by, and as sorrowful as her voice was, and different from her usual commanding tone, he heard it and turned his head toward her.

‘My husband! my royal husband!’ pleaded the humbled queen.

‘My husband! my royal husband!’ the humbled queen pleaded.

The king, in amazement, stopped the carriage and gazed from the queen in the gutter to the tripe-seller in royal array by his side, unable to solve the problem.

The king, astonished, halted the carriage and stared from the queen in the gutter to the tripe-seller dressed in royal attire beside him, unable to figure out the situation.

‘This is certainly my wife!’ he said at last, as he extended his hand to the queen. ‘Who then can you be?’ he added, addressing the tripe-seller.

‘This is definitely my wife!’ he said finally, as he reached out his hand to the queen. ‘So who are you then?’ he added, looking at the tripe-seller.

‘I will tell the truth,’ replied the good tripe-seller. ‘I am no queen; I am the poor wife of the tripe-seller down the lane there; but how I came into the palace is more than I can say.’

‘I will tell the truth,’ replied the kind tripe-seller. ‘I’m not a queen; I’m just the poor wife of the tripe-seller down the street over there; but how I ended up in the palace is something I can’t explain.’

‘And how come you here?’ said the king, addressing the real queen.

‘And what brings you here?’ said the king, speaking to the real queen.

‘That, neither can I tell; I thought you had sent me hither to punish me for my bad temper; but if you will only take me back I will never be bad-tempered again; only take me away from this dreadful tripe-man, who has been beating me all day.’

‘That, I can’t say; I thought you sent me here to punish me for my bad attitude; but if you just take me back, I promise I won’t be ill-tempered again; just get me away from this awful tripe-man, who has been hitting me all day.’

Then the king made answer: ‘Of course you must come back with me, for you are my wife. But,’ he said to the tripe-seller; ‘what shall I do with you? After you have been living in luxury in the palace, you will feel it hard to go back to sell tripe.’

Then the king replied, “Of course you have to come back with me, since you’re my wife. But,” he said to the tripe-seller, “what should I do with you? After living in comfort in the palace, you’ll find it tough to go back to selling tripe.”

‘It’s true I have not many luxuries at home,’ answered the tripe-seller; ‘but yet I had rather be with my husband than in any palace in the world;’ and she descended from the carriage, while the queen got in. [354]

‘It’s true I don’t have many luxuries at home,’ replied the tripe-seller; ‘but I’d still prefer to be with my husband than in any palace in the world;’ and she got out of the carriage while the queen got in. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Stop!’ said the king. ‘This day’s transformation, howsoever it was brought about, has been a good day, and you have been so well behaved, and so truth-spoken, I don’t like your going back to be beaten by the tripe-man.’

‘Stop!’ said the king. ‘The transformation today, no matter how it happened, has been a good day, and you have behaved so well and spoken so honestly. I don’t like the idea of you going back to get beaten by the tripe-man.’

‘Oh, never mind that,’ said the good wife; ‘he never beats me unless I do something very stupid. And, after all, he’s my husband, and that’s enough for me.’

‘Oh, forget about that,’ said the good wife; ‘he only hits me if I do something really dumb. And, after all, he’s my husband, and that’s good enough for me.’

‘Well, if you’re satisfied, I won’t interfere any further,’ said the king; ‘except to give you some mark of my royal favour.’

‘Well, if you’re happy, I won’t get in your way anymore,’ said the king; ‘except to show you some sign of my royal favor.’

So he bestowed on the tripe-man and his wife a beautiful villa, with a nice casino outside the gates, on condition that he never beat her any more.

So he gave the tripe-man and his wife a beautiful villa, with a nice casino outside the gates, on the condition that he would never hit her again.

The tripe-man was so pleased with the gifts which had come to him through his wife’s good conduct, that he kept his word, and was always thereafter very kind to her. And the queen was so frightened at the thought that she might find herself suddenly transformed into a tripe-seller again, that she kept a strict guard over her temper, and became the delight of her husband and the whole court.

The tripe seller was so happy with the gifts he received thanks to his wife's good behavior that he kept his promise and was always very kind to her from then on. The queen was so scared of the possibility of suddenly turning back into a tripe seller that she controlled her temper and became a source of joy for her husband and the entire court.

1 ‘La Regina e la Triparola;’ ‘Triparola,’ female tripe-seller. ↑

1 ‘The Queen and the Triparola;’ ‘Triparola,’ a woman who sells tripe. ↑

2 ‘Vicolo,’ a narrow dirty street. ↑

2 'Vicolo,' a narrow, grimy street. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

3 ‘Due gocciette d’acqua,’ two little drops of water, the Roman equivalent for ‘as like as two peas.’ ↑

3 ‘Two drops of water,’ two tiny drops of water, the Roman saying for ‘just like two peas in a pod.’ ↑

4 ‘Triparolo,’ a male tripe-seller. ↑

4 ‘Triparolo,’ a male tripe vendor. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

5 ‘Un bajocco di tripa-gatto,’ the worst part of the tripe, sold for cats’ and dogs’ meat. ↑

5 ‘A scrappy piece of cat’s belly,’ the least desirable part of the tripe, sold for pet food. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE BAD-TEMPERED QUEEN.1

They say there was a queen who was so bad-tempered that no one who could help it would come near her. All the servants ran away when she came out of her apartment, for fear she should scold and maltreat them; all the people ran away when she drove out, for fear she should vex them with some tyrannical order. [355]

They say there was a queen who was so bad-tempered that no one wanted to be near her. All the servants would flee when she left her room, afraid she’d yell at and mistreat them; everyone else would run away when she drove by, worried she’d bother them with some harsh command. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

As she was rich and beautiful, and ruled over vast dominions, many princes—who in their distant kingdoms had heard nothing of her failing—came to sue for her hand, but she sent them all away and would have nothing to say to any of them. She used to say she did not want to have anyone to be her master; she had rather live and govern by herself, and have everything her own way.

As she was wealthy and attractive, and ruled over large territories, many princes—from distant kingdoms who had heard nothing of her decline—came to ask for her hand in marriage, but she turned them all down and refused to engage with any of them. She often said she didn't want anyone to control her; she preferred to live and rule on her own and have everything her way.

As time went on, however, the council of state grew dissatisfied with this resolution. They insisted that she must marry, that there might be a family of princes to carry on the succession to the throne without dispute. When the queen found that she could not help it she agreed she would marry; but she was determined she would not marry any of the princes who had come to court her, because, as they were equal to herself in birth and state, they would want to rule over her and expect obedience from her. She declared she would marry no one but a certain duke, who, as she had observed in the council and in the state banquets and balls, was always very quiet and hardly ever spoke at all. She thought he would make a nice quiet manageable sort of husband, and she would have him if she must have one at all.

As time went on, the council of state became unhappy with this decision. They insisted that she had to marry, so there would be a family of princes to ensure the succession to the throne without any disputes. When the queen realized she had no choice, she agreed to marry; however, she was determined not to marry any of the princes who had come to court her, because, being equal to her in rank and status, they would want to dominate her and expect her to obey. She declared she would marry only a certain duke, who, as she had noticed during the council meetings and at state banquets and balls, was always very quiet and rarely spoke at all. She thought he would make a nice, calm, manageable husband, and she was willing to have him if she had to marry anyone at all.

The duke was as silent as usual when he was spoken to about it; but as he made no objection he was reckoned to have consented, and the marriage was duly solemnised.

The duke was as quiet as usual when people talked to him about it; but since he didn’t say anything against it, everyone assumed he agreed, and the marriage was officially officiated.

As soon as the marriage was over the queen went on making her arrangements and ordering matters in the palace just as if nothing had happened, and she were still her own mistress. In particular she issued invitations for the grandest ball she had ever given, asking to it all the ministers and their families, and all the nobility of the kingdom.

As soon as the wedding was over, the queen continued making her plans and managing things in the palace as if nothing had changed and she was still in control. In particular, she sent out invitations for the biggest ball she had ever hosted, inviting all the ministers and their families, as well as all the nobility of the kingdom.

The husband said nothing to all this, only a few hours before the time appointed for the banquet he called to the queen, saying: ‘Put on your travelling dress, and make haste; the carriage will be round directly.’ [356]

The husband didn’t say anything about all this; just a few hours before the banquet was supposed to start, he called to the queen, saying, “Put on your travel clothes and hurry up; the carriage will be ready soon.” [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘I’m not going to put on my travelling dress,’ answered the queen scornfully; ‘I am just seeing about my evening dress for the banquet this evening.’

‘I'm not going to wear my travel dress,’ the queen replied with disdain; ‘I'm just checking on my evening dress for the banquet tonight.’

‘If you are not ready in your travelling dress in five minutes, when the carriage comes round, it will be worse for you. Mind I have warned you.’

‘If you’re not ready in your travel outfit in five minutes, when the carriage arrives, it will be on you. Just remember I warned you.’

And he looked so determined that she quailed before him.

And he looked so determined that she shrank back in fear before him.

‘How can we be going into the country, when I have invited half the kingdom to a banquet?’ exclaimed the queen.

‘How can we be going to the countryside when I've invited half the kingdom to a banquet?’ exclaimed the queen.

‘I have invited no one,’ answered the husband quietly. ‘Don’t stand hesitating when I tell you to do a thing; go and get ready directly! we are going into the country!’ he added in his most positive voice, and, though she shed many secret tears over the loss of the banquet, she ventured to oppose nothing more to his orders, but went up and dressed, and when the carriage came round she was nearly ready. In about five minutes she came down.

'I haven't invited anyone,' the husband replied calmly. 'Don’t hesitate when I ask you to do something; go and get ready right away! We're going to the countryside!' he said with certainty, and even though she quietly cried over missing the party, she didn’t argue anymore and went upstairs to get dressed. When the carriage arrived, she was almost ready. In about five minutes, she came down.

‘I won’t say anything this time about your keeping me waiting,’ he said when she appeared; ‘but mind it does not happen again, or you will be sorry for it.’

‘I won’t say anything this time about you keeping me waiting,’ he said when she showed up; ‘but just remember it can’t happen again, or you’ll regret it.’

The queen had a favourite little dog, which she fondled and talked to all the way, to show she was offended with her husband and independent of his conversation.

The queen had a favorite little dog that she petted and talked to the whole time, to show she was upset with her husband and didn't need to engage in his conversation.

Watching an opportunity when she was silent, the husband said to the little dog, ‘Jump on to my lap.’

Watching for a moment when she was quiet, the husband said to the little dog, ‘Jump onto my lap.’

‘He’s not going to obey you,’ said the queen contemptuously; ‘he’s my dog!’

‘He’s not going to listen to you,’ the queen said with disdain; ‘he’s my dog!’

‘I keep no one about me who does not obey me,’ said her husband quietly; and he took out his pistol and shot the dog through the head.

‘I don’t keep anyone around me who doesn’t obey me,’ her husband said calmly; then he pulled out his pistol and shot the dog in the head.

The queen began to understand that the husband she had chosen was not a person to be trifled with, nor did she venture even to utter a complaint.

The queen started to realize that the husband she had chosen was not someone to mess with, and she didn't even dare to voice a complaint.

When they arrived at the villa, as the queen was going [357]to her apartment to undress, her husband called her to him into his room and bade her pull off his boots.

When they got to the villa, as the queen was heading to her room to change, her husband called her into his room and asked her to help him take off his boots.

The queen’s first impulse was to utter a haughty refusal; but by this time she had learnt that, as she would certainly have to give in to him in the end, it was better to do his bidding with a good grace at the first. So she said nothing, but knelt down and pulled off his boots.

The queen's first instinct was to respond with a proud no; but by then she had realized that, since she would eventually have to give in to him, it was better to comply willingly from the start. So she remained silent, knelt down, and took off his boots.

When she had done this he got up and said: ‘Now sit down in this armchair and I will take off your shoes; for my way is that one should help the other. If you behave to me as a wife should, you need never fear but that I shall behave to you as a husband should.’

When she finished this, he stood up and said, “Now sit down in this armchair and I’ll take off your shoes; because I believe in helping each other. If you treat me like a wife should, you won’t have to worry about me treating you like a husband should.”

By the time their visit to the country was at an end, and when they returned to the capital, everybody found their naughty queen had become the most angelic being imaginable.

By the time their visit to the country was over, and when they returned to the capital, everyone found their mischievous queen had turned into the sweetest person imaginable.

[After people’s bad tempers, their follies form the most prolific subject of the Ciarpe.]

[After people's bad tempers, their mistakes are the most common topic of the Ciarpe.]

1 ‘La Regina Cattiva.’ ↑

1 'The Evil Queen.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE SIMPLE WIFE.1

There was a man and his wife who had a young daughter to marry; and there was a man who was seeking a wife. So the man who was seeking a wife came to the man who had a daughter to marry, and said, ‘Give me your daughter for a wife.’

There was a man and his wife who had a young daughter to marry off; and there was a man looking for a wife. So the man looking for a wife approached the man with the daughter and said, 'Give me your daughter to be my wife.'

‘Yes,’ said the man who had a daughter to marry;2 ‘you’ll do very well; you’re just about the sort of son-in-law I want.’ And then he added: ‘If our daughter is to be betrothed to-day, it is the occasion for a feast.’ So to the wife he said, ‘Prepare the table;’ and to the daughter he said, ‘Draw the wine.’

‘Yes,’ said the man who had a daughter to marry;2 ‘you’ll be perfect; you’re exactly the kind of son-in-law I’m looking for.’ Then he added: ‘If our daughter is getting engaged today, it’s time for a celebration.’ So he told his wife, ‘Set the table;’ and to his daughter, he said, ‘Pour the wine.’

The daughter went down into the cellar to draw the [358]wine. But as she drew the wine she began to cry, saying: ‘If I am to be married I shall have a child, and the child will be a son, and the son will be a priest, and the priest will be a bishop, and the bishop will be a cardinal, and the cardinal will be a pope.’ And she cried and cried, and the wine was running all the time, so that the bottle3 she was filling ran over, and went on running over.

The daughter went down into the cellar to pour the wine. But as she poured, she started to cry, saying: ‘If I get married, I’ll have a child, and the child will be a son, and the son will be a priest, and the priest will be a bishop, and the bishop will be a cardinal, and the cardinal will be a pope.’ And she cried and cried, while the wine kept flowing, causing the bottle3 she was filling to overflow and continue running over.

Then said the father and mother: ‘What can the girl be doing down in the cellar so long?’ But the mother said: ‘I must go and see.’

Then the father and mother said, "What could the girl be doing down in the cellar for so long?" But the mother replied, "I need to go check on her."

So the mother went down to see why she was so long, but the moment she came into the cellar she, too, began to cry; so that the wine still went on running over.

So the mother went downstairs to see why she was taking so long, but the moment she stepped into the cellar, she started crying as well; so the wine continued to spill over.

Then the father said: ‘What can the girl and her mother both be doing so long down in the cellar? I must go and see.’

Then the father said, “What could the girl and her mother be doing down in the cellar for so long? I need to check it out.”

So the father went down into the cellar; but the moment he got into the cellar he, too, began to cry, and could do nothing for crying; so the wine still went on running over.

So the father went down into the basement; but as soon as he got into the basement, he also started to cry and couldn’t stop. So the wine kept overflowing.

Then he who had come to seek a wife said: ‘What can these people all be doing so long down in the cellar?’ So he, too, went down to see, and found them all crying in the cellar and the wine running over. Only when the wine was all run out they left off crying and came upstairs again.

Then the man who had come to find a wife said, "What could these people possibly be doing down in the cellar for so long?" So he went down to see for himself and discovered them all crying in the cellar with the wine spilling everywhere. They only stopped crying when the wine finally ran out, and then they came back upstairs.

Then the betrothal and the marriage were happily celebrated.

Then the engagement and the wedding were joyfully celebrated.

One day after they were married the husband went into the market to buy meat, and he bought a large provision because he had invited a friend to dinner. When the wife saw him buy such a quantity of meat she began to cry, saying: ‘What can we do with such a lot of meat?’

One day after they got married, the husband went to the market to buy meat, and he bought a large amount because he had invited a friend for dinner. When the wife saw him buy so much meat, she started to cry, saying, "What are we going to do with all this meat?"

‘Oh, never mind, don’t make a misery of it,’ said the husband; ‘put it behind you.’4 [359]

‘Oh, never mind, don’t dwell on it,’ said the husband; ‘move on.’4 [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

The simple wife took the meat and went home, saying to her parents,5 and crying the while: ‘My husband says I am to put all this meat behind me! Do tell me what can I do?’

The simple wife took the meat and went home, saying to her parents, 5 and crying the whole way: ‘My husband says I need to forget all this meat! Please tell me what can I do?’

‘You can’t put the whole lot of it behind you, that’s certain,’ replied the equally simple mother; ‘but we can manage it between us.’

‘You can’t just leave it all behind, that's for sure,’ replied the equally straightforward mother; ‘but we can handle it together.’

Then she took the meat and put all the hard, bony part on one chair, where she made the father sit down on it; all the fat, skinny part she put on another chair, and made the wife sit down on it; and the fleshy, meaty part she put on another chair, and sat down on that herself.

Then she took the meat and placed all the tough, bony pieces on one chair, and made the father sit on it; she put all the fatty, lean parts on another chair and had the wife sit there; and the tender, meaty parts she put on a different chair and sat down on that one herself.

Presently the husband came with his friend, ready for dinner, knocking at the door. None of the three dared to move, however, that they might not cease to be fulfilling his injunctions. Then he looked through the keyhole, and, seeing them all sitting down without moving when he knocked, he thought they must all be dead; so he ran and fetched a locksmith, who opened the door for him.

Currently, the husband arrived with his friend, prepared for dinner, knocking at the door. None of the three dared to move, so they wouldn't stop following his instructions. Then he looked through the keyhole and, seeing them all sitting still when he knocked, assumed they must all be dead. So he ran to get a locksmith, who opened the door for him.

‘What on earth are you all doing there,’ exclaimed the hungry husband, ‘instead of getting dinner ready?’

‘What on earth are you all doing there,’ exclaimed the hungry husband, ‘instead of getting dinner ready?’

‘You told me to put the meat behind me, and I have done so,’ answered the simple wife.

‘You told me to put the meat aside, and I have done that,’ answered the simple wife.

Then he saw they were sitting on the meat. Out of all patience with such idiocy, he exclaimed: ‘This is the last you’ll ever see of me. At least I promise you not to come back till I have met three other people as idiotic as you, and that’s hardly likely to occur.’

Then he saw they were sitting on the meat. Out of all patience with such stupidity, he shouted, “This is the last you’ll ever see of me. I promise you I won’t come back until I’ve met three other people as foolish as you, and that’s not very likely to happen.”

With that he took his friend to a tavern to dine, and then put on a pilgrim’s dress and went wandering over the country.

With that, he took his friend to a tavern to eat, and then he put on a pilgrim's outfit and wandered around the countryside.

In the first city he came to there was great public rejoicing going on. The princess had just been married, and the court was keeping high festival. As he came up to the palace the bride and bridegroom were just come back from church. The bride wore one of those very high [360]round headdresses that they used to wear in olden time, with a long veil hanging from it. It was so very high that she could not by any means get in at the door, and there she stuck, not knowing what to do. Then she began to cry, saying: ‘What shall I do? what shall I do?’

In the first city he arrived at, there was a huge celebration happening. The princess had just gotten married, and the court was in full party mode. As he approached the palace, the bride and groom had just returned from the church. The bride was wearing one of those very tall round headdresses that were popular back in the day, complete with a long veil trailing behind it. It was so tall that she couldn't fit through the door, and she got stuck, unsure of what to do. Then she started to cry, saying: ‘What am I going to do? What should I do?’

‘Shall I tell you what to do?’ said the pilgrim-husband, drawing near.

‘Should I tell you what to do?’ said the pilgrim-husband, moving closer.

‘Oh, pray do, if you can; I will give you a hundred scudi if you will only show me how to get in.’

‘Oh, please do, if you can; I’ll give you a hundred scudi if you just show me how to get in.’

So he went and made her go a few steps backward, and then bow her head very low, and so she could pass under the door.

So he went and made her take a few steps back, and then bow her head really low, so she could pass under the door.

‘Really, I have found one woman as simple as my people at home,’ said the pilgrim-husband, as he sat down to the banquet at the special invitation of the princess, in reward for his services. Afterwards she counted out a hundred scudi to him, and he went further.

‘Honestly, I’ve found a woman just as straightforward as the folks back home,’ said the pilgrim-husband as he sat down to the feast at the princess's special invitation, as a reward for his help. Later, she handed him a hundred scudi, and he went on.

Further along the road he came to a farm, with barns and cattle and plenty of stock about, and a large well at which a woman was drawing water. Instead of dipping in the pail, she had got the well-rope knotted into a huge knot, which she kept dipping into the water and squeezing out into the pail, and she kept crying as she did so: ‘Oh, how long shall I be filling the pail! The pail will never be full!’

Further down the road, he arrived at a farm with barns and livestock all around, and there was a large well where a woman was drawing water. Instead of using a bucket, she had tied the well-rope into a huge knot, which she kept dipping into the water and squeezing out into the bucket, and she kept crying as she did so: ‘Oh, how long will it take to fill this bucket! The bucket will never be full!’

‘Shall I show you how to fill it?’ asked the pilgrim-husband, drawing near.

“Do you want me to show you how to fill it?” asked the pilgrim-husband, stepping closer.

‘Oh, yes, do show me if you can. I will give you a hundred scudi if you will only show me.’

‘Oh, yes, please show me if you can. I will give you a hundred scudi if you just show me.’

Then he took all the knots out of the rope and let down the pail by it, and filled it in a minute.

Then he untangled all the knots in the rope, lowered the bucket with it, and filled it up in no time.

‘Here’s a second woman as stupid as my people at home,’ said the pilgrim-husband, as the farmer’s wife asked him in to dinner in reward for his great services; ‘if I go on at this rate I shall have to return to her at last, in spite of my protestations.’ [361]

‘Here’s another woman as foolish as my people back home,’ said the pilgrim-husband, as the farmer’s wife invited him to dinner as a thanks for his help; ‘if I keep this up, I’m going to have to go back to her eventually, despite what I say.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

After that the farmer’s wife counted out the hundred scudi of the promised reward, and he went on further, having first packed six eggs into his hollow staff as provision for the journey.

After that, the farmer’s wife counted out the hundred scudi of the promised reward, and he continued on, having first packed six eggs into his hollow staff as provisions for the journey.

Towards nightfall he arrived at a lone cottage. Here he knocked and asked a bed for his night’s lodging.

Toward evening, he arrived at a solitary cottage. He knocked on the door and requested a bed for the night.

‘I can’t give you that,’ said a voice from the inside; ‘for I am a lone widow. I can’t take a man in to sleep here.’

‘I can’t give you that,’ said a voice from inside; ‘because I’m a solitary widow. I can’t let a man sleep here.’

‘But I am a pilgrim,’ replied he; ‘let me in at least to cook a bit of supper.’

‘But I’m a traveler,’ he replied; ‘let me in at least to make some dinner.’

‘That I don’t mind doing,’ said the good wife, and she opened the door.

That I don't mind doing," said the good wife, and she opened the door.

‘Thanks, good friend!’ said the pilgrim-husband as he sat down by the stove; ‘now add to your charity a couple of eggs in a pan.’6

‘Thanks, my good friend!’ said the pilgrim-husband as he sat down by the stove; ‘now please add a couple of eggs in a pan to your kindness.’6

So she gave him a pan and two eggs, and a bit of butter to cook them in; but he took the six eggs out of his staff and broke them into the pan, too.

So she gave him a pan and two eggs, along with a bit of butter to cook them; but he took six eggs out of his staff and broke them into the pan as well.

Presently, when the good wife turned her head his way again, and saw eight eggs swimming in the pan instead of two, she said: ‘Lack-a-day! you must surely be some strange being from the other world. Do you know so-and-so there’ (naming her dead husband)?

Presently, when the good wife turned her head his way again and saw eight eggs floating in the pan instead of two, she said: ‘Wow! You must really be some kind of strange being from another world. Do you know so-and-so there?’ (naming her dead husband)?

‘Oh, yes,’ said the pilgrim-husband, enjoying the joke; ‘I know him very well; he lives just next to me.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said the pilgrim-husband, laughing at the joke; ‘I know him really well; he lives right next to me.’

‘Only to think of that!’ replied the poor woman. ‘And do tell me, how do you get on in the other world? What sort of a life is it?’

‘Just thinking about that!’ replied the poor woman. ‘And please tell me, how are things going in the other world? What kind of life is it?’

‘Oh, not so very bad; it depends what sort of a place you get. The part where we are is not very bad, except that we get very little to eat. Your husband, for instance, is nearly starved.’

‘Oh, not too bad; it really depends on the kind of place you end up in. The area where we are isn’t too bad, except that we hardly get enough to eat. Your husband, for example, is almost starving.’

‘No, really!’ cried the good wife, clasping her hands; ‘only fancy! my good husband starving out there; so fond as he was of a good dinner, too!’ Then she added, coaxingly: ‘As you know him so well, perhaps you [362]wouldn’t mind doing him the charity of taking him a little somewhat to give him a treat. There are such lots of things I could easily send him.’

‘No, seriously!’ exclaimed the good wife, clasping her hands; ‘just think about it! My poor husband is out there starving, and he loved a good dinner so much!’ Then she added, sweetly: ‘Since you know him so well, maybe you wouldn’t mind doing him a favor by taking him a little something to cheer him up. There are so many things I could easily send him.’

‘O, dear no, not at all; I’ll do it with great pleasure,’ answered he; ‘but I’m not going back till to-morrow; and if I don’t sleep here I must go on further, and then I shan’t come by this way.’

‘Oh, no, not at all; I’ll do it with great pleasure,’ he replied. ‘But I’m not going back until tomorrow; and if I don’t sleep here, I have to go further, and then I won’t pass this way again.’

‘That’s true,’ replied the widow. ‘Ah, well, I mustn’t mind what the folks say, for such an opportunity as this may never occur again. You must sleep in my bed, and I must sleep on the hearth; and in the morning I’ll load a donkey with provisions for my poor dear husband.’

‘That’s true,’ replied the widow. ‘Ah, well, I can’t worry about what people say, since an opportunity like this might never come again. You’ll sleep in my bed, and I’ll sleep by the fireplace; and in the morning I’ll pack a donkey with supplies for my poor dear husband.’

‘Oh, no,’ replied the pilgrim; ‘you shan’t be disturbed in your bed; only let me sleep on the hearth, that will do for me; and as I’m an early riser I can be gone before anyone’s astir, so folks won’t have anything to say.’

‘Oh, no,’ replied the traveler; ‘you won’t be disturbed in your bed; just let me sleep by the fireplace, and that’ll be fine for me. Since I wake up early, I can leave before anyone else is up, so people won’t have anything to say.’

So it was done, and an hour before sunrise the woman was up loading the donkey with the best of her stores. There were ham, and maccaroni, and flour, and cheese, and wine. All this she committed to the pilgrim, saying: ‘You’ll send the donkey back, won’t you?’

So it was done, and an hour before sunrise the woman was up loading the donkey with the best of her supplies. There was ham, pasta, flour, cheese, and wine. She handed all this to the traveler, saying: ‘You'll send the donkey back, right?’

‘Of course I would send him back; he’d be no use to us out there: but I shan’t get out again myself for another hundred years or so, and I fear he won’t find his way back alone, for it’s no easy way to find.’

‘Of course I would send him back; he’d be no use to us out there: but I won’t get out again myself for another hundred years or so, and I’m afraid he won’t find his way back alone, because it’s not an easy path to navigate.’

‘To be sure not; I ought to have thought of that,’ replied the widow. ‘Ah, well, so as my poor husband gets a good meal never mind the donkey.’

‘Of course not; I should have thought of that,’ replied the widow. ‘Oh well, as long as my poor husband gets a good meal, forget about the donkey.’

So the pretended pilgrim from the other world went his way. He hadn’t gone a hundred yards before the widow called him back.

So the fake pilgrim from the afterlife went on his way. He hadn’t gotten a hundred yards before the widow shouted for him to come back.

‘Ah, she’s beginning to think better of it!’ said he to himself; and he continued his way, pretending not to hear.

‘Ah, she’s starting to reconsider it!’ he said to himself; and he kept going, acting as if he didn’t hear.

‘Good pilgrim!’ shouted the widow; ‘I forgot one thing. Would any money be of use to my poor dear husband?’ [363]

‘Good pilgrim!’ shouted the widow; ‘I forgot one thing. Would any money help my poor dear husband?’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Oh dear yes, all the use in the world,’ replied the pilgrim; ‘you can always get anything for money everywhere.’

‘Oh definitely, all the usefulness in the world,’ replied the traveler; ‘you can always buy anything with money anywhere.’

‘Oh, do come back then, and I’ll trouble you with a hundred scudi for him.’

‘Oh, please come back then, and I’ll give you a hundred scudi for him.’

The pretended pilgrim came back willingly for the hundred scudi, and the widow counted them out to him.

The supposed pilgrim gladly returned for the hundred scudi, and the widow counted them out for him.

‘There is no help for it,’ soliloquised he as he went his way; ‘I must go back to those at home. I have actually found three women each more stupid than they.’

‘There’s no way around it,’ he thought to himself as he walked along; ‘I have to go back to those at home. I’ve actually found three women who are each more annoying than they are.’

So he went home to live, and complained no more of the simplicity of his wife.

So he went home to live and stopped complaining about how simple his wife was.

[We have the German of this story in ‘Die Klugen Leute,’ Grimm, p. 407, and again the beginning of it in ‘Die Kluge Else’ (Clever Lizzie), Grimm, p. 137 (which ends with the desperation of the wife as the second Roman version ends with the death of the husband); in some variants given in the ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ pp. 53–4; in an Italian-Tirolese tale, ‘Le donne matte’ (the title resembling that of the next Roman version); and the ending, in the Norse ‘Not a pin to choose between them.’ Senhor de Saraiva told me the following Portuguese story entitled ‘Pedro da Malas Artes’ (Tricky Peter), which embodies these incidents, but opens with a different purport. [365]

[We have the German version of this story in ‘Die Klugen Leute,’ Grimm, p. 407, and again the beginning of it in ‘Smart Else’ (Clever Lizzie), Grimm, p. 137 (which ends with the desperation of the wife just like the second Roman version ends with the husband's death); in some variants found in the ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ pp. 53–4; in an Italian-Tirolese tale, ‘Crazy women’ (the title is similar to that of the next Roman version); and the ending, in the Norse story ‘Not a pin to choose between them.’ Senhor de Saraiva shared with me a Portuguese story called ‘Pedro of Fine Arts’ (Tricky Peter), which includes these incidents but starts with a different premise. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]]

Tricky Peter was a knowing blade; so he went out on his travels to set all the world straight; and he found plenty to do.

Sly Peter was a clever guy; so he set out on his travels to make everything right in the world; and he found plenty of things to handle.

In the very first town he came to there was a great commotion. A bride had come to church to be married, and there she stuck at the church door, mounted on her mule, while the people deliberated whether they should facilitate her ingress by cutting off some of her head or some of the mule’s legs.

In the first town he reached, there was a huge fuss. A bride had arrived at the church to get married, and she was stuck at the church door, riding her mule, while the people debated whether to help her get in by cutting off part of her head or some of the mule’s legs.

‘Let her alight and walk in,’ said Tricky Peter; ‘and the door will be high enough.’ And all the people applauded his wisdom.

‘Let her get down and walk in,’ said Tricky Peter; ‘and the door will be tall enough.’ And everyone applauded his cleverness.

At the next town he found the people all full of discontent, because one of them had to sit up by turns to tell the others when the sun rose.

At the next town, he found everyone really upset because one person had to take turns staying up to let the others know when the sun came up.

‘I’ll give you a bird to perform that office,’ said Tricky Peter; and he went home and fetched a cock, and then they could all rest comfortably.

‘I’ll get you a bird to handle that job,’ said Tricky Peter; and he went home and got a rooster, and then they could all relax comfortably.

After this the story has no more silly people to deal with; but Peter fools a giant, and overcomes his strength with craft. He does not seem, either, to get paid for his services, as do the heroes of ‘La Sposa Cese,’ and all the others.

After this, the story has no more foolish characters to deal with; instead, Peter outsmarts a giant and uses his wit to overcome his strength. He doesn't seem to get compensated for his efforts, unlike the heroes in 'La Sposa Cese' and the others.

I have also another Roman story (too long to print here) of a man who sets out with a different purpose again, who meets with three sets of people afflicted with similar follies, and who also makes a good deal of money by his counsel; together with various stories in which men go to fetch their wives back from the devil’s kingdom, get three commissions of a similar nature by the way, for executing which they get richly paid on their return.

I have another Roman tale (too lengthy to share here) about a man who starts out with a different goal, encounters three groups of people suffering from similar issues, and also earns a lot of money through his advice; along with various stories where men go to bring their wives back from the devil’s realm, and along the way, they receive three similar tasks for which they are handsomely rewarded upon their return.

There is a story in the 5th Tantra given as ‘Le Brahme aux vains projets’ in Abbé Dubois’ translation of the ‘Pantcha-Tantra,’ which has an analogous opening to that of ‘La Sposa Cece.’ There is another among the ‘Contes Indiens’ published at the end of it, in which four Brahmans have a great dispute as to which of them can claim to be the greatest idiot—a strife only second in folly to that of the ‘Three Indolent Boys’ in Grimm, p. 551—and they each narrate such proof of having acted with consummate folly that the decision given is that there is not a pin to choose between them.

There’s a story in the 5th Tantra titled ‘The Brahm with empty plans’ in Abbé Dubois’ translation of the ‘Pantcha-Tantra,’ which has a similar beginning to that of ‘La Sposa Cece.’ There’s another story in the ‘Indian Tales’ published at the end, where four Brahmans argue over who can claim to be the biggest idiot—a dispute that’s only slightly less foolish than that of the ‘Three Indolent Boys’ in Grimm, p. 551—and they each share proof of their incredible foolishness, leading to the conclusion that there’s not much to choose between them.

In a somewhat analogous story, which he calls ‘Aventures du [366]Gourou Paramarta,’ one of the disciples commits the counting mistake ‘of the well-known Irishman,’ in omitting to reckon himself in his computation, also found in the Russian ‘Folk Tales,’ p. 54, and they go to buy a foal’s egg, just as do certain peasants of the Trentino in an Italian-Tirolese ‘storiella da rider’7 (laughable story).]

In a similar tale that he calls ‘Adventures of [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]Guru Paramarta,’ one of the disciples makes the counting error ‘of the well-known Irishman’ by forgetting to include himself in his calculation. This is also mentioned in the Russian ‘Folk Tales,’ p. 54, and they go to buy a foal’s egg, just like some peasants in Trentino do in an Italian-Tirolese ‘storiella da rider’7 (funny story).]

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

LA SPOSA CECE.

2

Another version of this story was told me, or rather an entirely different story embodying the same purport, which, though full of fun, turned on the double meanings of common words of household use too homely for the most part, and some too coarse to please the English reader. The husband, among other things, tells his wife to prepare dinner for a friend and to mind she has ‘brocoli strascinati’ and ‘uovi spersi,’8 as they are his favourite dishes. ‘Strascinare’ is to drag anything along, but is technically used to express brocoli chopped up and fried, the commonest Roman dish. ‘Spergere’ is to scatter, but the word is used among common people to express eggs poached in broth, a favourite delicacy; (eggs poached as in England are called ‘uova in bianco’). The wife, taking the words literally, drags the brocoli all over the house and all over the yard, till it is so nasty it cannot be eaten, instead of frying it, and scatters the eggs all about the place instead of poaching them, and so on through a number of other absurdities difficult to explain in detail. In the end the husband falls ill, partly from her bad cooking and partly from annoyance; a doctor is called in, who tells her (among other directions which she similarly misunderstands), that he must have nothing but ‘brodo,’9 but she is to make it ‘alto, alto.’ ‘Alto’ is literally ‘high,’ but he uses it for ‘good,’ ‘strong;’ she, however, understands him to mean her to make it in a high place, and goes up on the roof to make it. When the husband asks for it she says she cannot get it for him then as it is up on the roof.

Another version of this story was told to me, or rather an entirely different story with the same meaning, which, although full of fun, relied on the double meanings of common household words that were too homey for the most part and some too crude to appeal to the English reader. The husband, among other things, tells his wife to prepare dinner for a friend and to make sure she has ‘broccoli strascinati’ and ‘uova sparse,’ as they are his favorite dishes. ‘Strascinare’ means to drag something along, but it technically refers to broccoli that’s chopped up and fried, the most common Roman dish. ‘Spargere’ means to scatter, but the word is used among regular people to describe eggs poached in broth, a popular delicacy; (eggs poached, as in England, are called ‘uova in bianco’). The wife, taking the words literally, drags the broccoli all over the house and yard until it's so nasty it can't be eaten, instead of frying it, and scatters the eggs everywhere instead of poaching them, and so on through a number of other absurdities difficult to explain in detail. In the end, the husband falls ill, partly from her bad cooking and partly from annoyance; a doctor is called in, who tells her (among other directions she similarly misunderstands) that he must have nothing but ‘brodo,’ but she is to make it ‘alto, alto.’ ‘Alto’ literally means ‘high,’ but he uses it to mean ‘good’ or ‘strong;’ she, however, interprets it as meaning she should make it in a high place and goes up on the roof to prepare it. When the husband asks for it, she replies that she can't get it for him then as it's up on the roof.

Ultimately the husband dies of vexation.

Ultimately, the husband dies of frustration.

There is a very familiar German story which everyone who has [367]any acquaintance with the people must have met, of a lady who complains to her servant that the tea has not ‘drawn,’ and the simple girl answers, ‘It is not my fault, I have drawn it all about the place enough I’m sure’ (Ich hab’ es genug umhergezogen).

There’s a well-known German story that everyone who has [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] any familiarity with the people must have come across, about a lady who tells her servant that the tea hasn’t “steeped,” and the naïve girl replies, “It’s not my fault, I’ve steeped it all over the place, that’s for sure” (Ich habe es genug herumgetragen.).

1 ‘La Sposa Cece,’ the simple wife. ‘Cece’ among the common people seems to mean pretty nearly the same as ‘tonto,’ ‘silly,’ ‘idiotic;’ in this place more exactly ‘simple’ or ‘half-witted.’ ↑

1 ‘The Bride Cece,’ the simple wife. ‘Cece’ among the locals seems to mean almost the same as ‘foolish,’ ‘silly,’ or ‘dumb;’ in this context, it more specifically refers to someone who is ‘simple’ or ‘half-witted.’ ↑

2 It is a characteristic of the Roman people that as a rule they never call people by their names; the ‘casato’ or married name, and the ‘cognome’ or family name, are used indifferently when such a name is called in request at all, by married people. If they must give a name to a stranger it is always the Christian name that comes first to their lips; among themselves, however, it is seldom the genuine name that is used. They have some ‘sopranome’ or nick-name for everybody, or at least a shortening of the Christian name, as ‘Checca’ and ‘Checco’ for Francesca and Francesco; ‘Pippo’ for Filippo; ‘Pepe’ for Giuseppe; ‘Cola’ for Niccola; ‘Maso’ for Tomaso; ‘Teta’ for Teresa; ‘Lalla’ for Adelaide; ‘Lina’ for Carolina; ‘Tuta’ for Geltrude; the abbreviations for Giovanni are innumerable.

2 It's typical of the Roman people that they usually don’t call others by their names; they often use the ‘casato’ or married name, and the ‘cognome’ or family name interchangeably when referring to someone, especially among married individuals. If they need to name a stranger, it’s almost always the first name that comes to mind. However, when they’re among themselves, they rarely use the actual name. Instead, they have a ‘sopranome’ or nickname for everyone, or at least a shortened version of the first name. For example, ‘Checca’ and ‘Checco’ for Francesca and Francesco; ‘Pippo’ for Filippo; ‘Pepe’ for Giuseppe; ‘Cola’ for Niccola; ‘Maso’ for Tomaso; ‘Teta’ for Teresa; ‘Lalla’ for Adelaide; ‘Lina’ for Carolina; ‘Tuta’ for Geltrude; and there are countless variations for Giovanni.

But what they most love to designate people by is a description of their persons. When you come home from your walk, your servant does not tell you Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so have called, but it will be ‘Quel signore vecchio ingobbato’ (that old hump-backed kind of gentleman), if he be the least grey and high-shouldered, however young he may be; or ‘Quel bel giovane alto’ (that tall, handsome, young gentleman), whatever his age, if he be only bien conservé. Then ‘Quella signora alta, secca, che veste di lutto’ (that tall thin lady dressed in mourning). ‘Quella signora bella bionda, giovane’ (that lady, pretty, fair, young). Or ‘Quello che porta il brillante’ (he who wears a brilliant), because the same friend happened to have a diamond stud in his cravat one day; or ‘Quella contessa che veste di cilestro,’ because the lady happened once to wear a blue dress, and so on, with all manner of signs and tokens which it may take you half-an-hour to recognise a person by, if you ever make it out at all. Or, if there is no distinctive mark of the kind to seize upon, it will be [364]‘Quel signore,’ or ‘quella signora di Palazzo,’ or ‘Via,’ or ‘Piazza’ So-and-so. And this not from the difficulty of catching a foreign name, because it is still more in vogue when designating their own people; if you are asking for the address of a servant, a tailor, a dressmaker, &c., it is in vain you try to make them out by the name, you must do your best to describe them, and then they will break out with an exclamation hitting it off for themselves: ‘Ah! si, quel scimunito’ (that silly-looking fellow); ‘quel gobbo’ (that high-shouldered fellow—lit. ‘hunchbacked’); ‘quella strega’ (that ugly old woman, cunning woman—lit. ‘witch’); ‘quella bella giovane alta’ (that tall handsome girl); ‘quella donna bassetta’ (that short little woman), for with their descriptions as with their names they must super-add a diminutive or a qualification, and ‘basso’ (short) is pretty sure to be rendered by ‘bassetto,’ ‘piccola’ (little) by ‘piccinina,’ ‘vecchio’ (old) by ‘vecchietto.’ ‘Quella scimia’ or ‘scimietta’ (that old woman, or that little old woman who looks like a monkey). ‘Quella donna anziana’ (that respectable old woman). ‘Quella donniciuola’ (that nasty little old woman, contemptible old woman). ‘Quel ragazzino, tanto carino, tanto caruccio’ (that nice boy, that very nice boy). ‘Quel vecchietto’ (that nice old man); and in this way the hero of this story is designated as ‘The man who has a daughter to marry.’ ↑

But what they love most is to describe people by their appearance. When you get home from your walk, your servant doesn’t say Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so have visited; instead, it’ll be ‘Quel signore vecchio ingobbato’ (that old hump-backed gentleman), even if he’s relatively young, but just a bit gray and broad-shouldered; or ‘What a handsome tall guy’ (that tall, handsome young man), no matter his age, if he looks well-preserved. Then there’s ‘That tall, thin lady dressed in black’ (that tall, thin lady dressed in mourning). ‘That beautiful young blonde lady’ (that pretty, fair young lady). Or ‘That which brings the brilliant’ (the one wearing the diamond), because that friend happened to have a diamond stud in his cravat one day; or ‘That countess who dresses in sky blue’ (that countess who wore a blue dress once), and so forth, with all sorts of signs and labels that can take you half an hour to figure out a person’s identity, if you manage to do it at all. Or, if there are no distinctive features to latch onto, it’ll be [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]‘What a dude,’ or ‘that lady from the palace,’ or ‘Through,’ or ‘Square’ So-and-so. This isn’t because it’s hard to catch a foreign name; it’s even more common when talking about their own people. If you’re looking for the address of a servant, tailor, dressmaker, etc., it’s useless trying to identify them by name; you must describe them instead, and then they’ll chime in with an exclamation that sums it up: ‘Ah! yes, what an idiot’ (that silly-looking guy); ‘that hunchback’ (that high-shouldered guy—literally ‘hunchbacked’); ‘that witch’ (that ugly old woman, crafty woman—literally ‘witch’); ‘that beautiful tall young woman’ (that tall, beautiful girl); ‘that short woman’ (that short little woman), because with their descriptions, just like their names, they always add a diminutive or qualifier, and ‘bass’ (short) typically becomes ‘basset,’ ‘small’ (little) turns into ‘little one,’ ‘old’ (old) is often ‘old man.’ ‘That monkey’ or ‘scimietta’ (that old woman, or that little old woman who looks like a monkey). ‘That elderly woman’ (that respectable old woman). ‘That woman’ (that nasty little old woman, contemptible old woman). ‘What a cute little kid, so sweet, so adorable.’ (that nice boy, that very nice boy). ‘What an old guy’ (that nice old man); and in this way, the hero of this story is referred to as ‘The man who has a daughter to marry.’ ↑

3 ‘Boccione,’ a large coarse glass bottle commonly used in Rome for carrying wine. When it is covered with twisted rushes—like the oil-flasks that come to England—it is called a ‘damigiana,’ a young lady, a little lady. ↑

3 ‘Boccione,’ a large, rough glass bottle typically used in Rome to transport wine. When it’s wrapped in twisted rushes—similar to the oil-flasks that arrive in England—it’s referred to as a ‘damigiana,’ a young lady, a little lady. ↑

4 ‘Mettetevelo addietro.’ Lit. ‘Put it behind you,’ a way of saying ‘Never mind it,’ ‘don’t care about it.’ But the woman is supposed to be so foolish that she understands it literally. ↑

4 ‘Put it behind you.’ Literally, ‘Put it behind you,’ meaning ‘Forget about it,’ or ‘It doesn't matter.’ But the woman is portrayed as so naive that she takes it literally. ↑

5 The Italian custom of the newly married couples continuing to live with the parents of one or other of them is here brought in. ↑

5 The Italian tradition of newlyweds living with one set of parents is introduced here. ↑

6 ‘Tegame,’ a flat earthen pan much in vogue in Roman kitchens; ‘ova in tegame’ is a favourite and not a bad dish. A little fresh butter is oiled, and the eggs are dropped into it as for poaching, and very slowly cooked in it; when scarcely set they are reckoned done. ↑

6 ‘Tegame,’ a flat earthen pan that’s quite popular in Roman kitchens; ‘eggs in pan’ is a favorite and a pretty good dish. A bit of fresh butter is added, and the eggs are cracked into it like you're poaching them, and then cooked very slowly; when they're barely set, they're considered done. ↑

7 Such notions are not altogether so impossible as they seem. I myself heard a very intelligent little boy one day say to his mother, ‘Mama, I should so like to see a horse’s egg.’ ‘A horse’s egg, my dear—there are no such things,’ was the reply of course. ‘Oh yes, there must be,’ rejoined the child, ‘because I’ve heard Pa several times talk about finding a mare’s nest.’ ↑

7 Those ideas aren’t as crazy as they sound. I once heard a very bright little boy tell his mom, ‘Mom, I really want to see a horse’s egg.’ ‘A horse’s egg, sweetie—those don’t exist,’ was the obvious response. ‘Oh yes, there has to be one,’ the child argued back, ‘because I’ve heard Dad talk about finding a mare’s nest.’ ↑

8 ‘Uovo,’ by the way, is a word with which great liberties are taken. The correct singular is ‘uovo’ and the plural ‘uova,’ but it is very common to make the plural in ‘i’ and also to say ‘uova’ for the singular, and ‘uove’ for plural, while the initial ‘u’ is most usually dropped out. ↑

8 ‘Uovo’ is a word that’s often used flexibly. The correct singular form is ‘uovo’ and the plural is ‘uova,’ but people commonly use ‘i’ for the plural and sometimes say ‘uova’ for singular, and ‘uove’ for plural, while the initial ‘u’ is usually left out. ↑

9 ‘Brodo’ is beef-tea or clear broth with nothing in it; broth with vermicelli or anything else in it is ‘minestra;’ ‘zuppa,’ which sounds most like ‘soup,’ is rather ‘sop,’ and when applied to broth, means strictly only broth with bread in it, from ‘inzuppare,’ to steep, soak, or sop; but it is also used for broth with anything else in it besides bread, but never without anything in it. ↑

9 ‘Brodo’ is beef tea or clear broth with nothing in it; broth with vermicelli or anything else is ‘minestra;’ ‘zuppa,’ which sounds most like ‘soup,’ is actually more like ‘sop,’ and when referring to broth, it strictly means only broth with bread in it, from ‘inzuppare,’ to steep, soak, or sop; it can also refer to broth with anything else in it besides bread, but never just broth on its own. ↑

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THE FOOLISH WOMAN.1

There was once a couple well-to-do in the world, who had one only daughter.

There was once a wealthy couple who had just one daughter.

The son of a neighbour came to ask her in marriage, and as the father thought he would do, the father asked him to dinner, and sent the daughter down into the cellar to draw the wine.

The neighbor's son came to ask for her hand in marriage, and as the father expected, he invited him to dinner and sent his daughter down to the cellar to get the wine.

‘If I am married,’ said the girl to herself, and began to cry as she drew the wine, ‘I shall have a child, and the child will be a boy, and the boy will be called Petrillo, and by-and-by he will die, and I shall be left to lament him, and to cry all day long “Petrillo! Petrillo! where are you!”’ and she went on crying, and the wine went on running over.

'If I get married,' the girl said to herself, and began to cry as she poured the wine, 'I'll have a child, and the child will be a boy, and his name will be Petrillo, and eventually he'll die, and I'll be left to mourn him, crying all day long "Petrillo! Petrillo! where are you!"' and she kept crying, and the wine kept spilling over.

Then the mother went down to see what kept her so [368]long, and she repeated the story all over to her, and the mother answered, ‘Right you are, my girl!’ and she, too, began to cry, and the wine was all the time running over.

Then the mother went down to see what was taking her so long, and she told her the story again, to which the mother replied, ‘You're absolutely right, my girl!’ and she also started to cry, while the wine spilled everywhere.

Then the father went down, and they repeated the story to him, and he, too, said, ‘Right you are!’ and he, too, began to cry, and the wine all the time went on running all over the floor.

Then the father came downstairs, and they told him the story again, and he said, ‘You’re absolutely right!’ and he started crying too, while the wine kept spilling all over the floor.

Then the young man also goes down to see what is the matter, and stops the wine running, and makes them all come up.

Then the young man goes down to see what’s going on, stops the wine from flowing, and makes everyone come up.

‘But,’ he says, ‘I’ll not marry the girl till I have wandered over the world and found other three as simple as you.’ He dines with them, and sets out on his search.

‘But,’ he says, ‘I won’t marry the girl until I’ve traveled the world and found three others just as simple as you.’ He has dinner with them and sets off on his journey.

The first night he goes to bed in an inn, and in the morning he hears in the room next him such lamenting and complaining that he goes in to see what is the matter. A man is sitting by the side of the bed lamenting because he cannot get his stockings on.

The first night he sleeps at an inn, he wakes up in the morning to hear someone next door wailing and complaining, so he goes in to check what’s going on. A man is sitting by the bed, upset because he can't put on his stockings.

The young man says, ‘Take hold of one side this way, and the other side that way, and pull them up.’

The young man says, ‘Grab one side like this and the other side like that, then pull them up.’

‘Ah, to be sure!’ cries the man, and gives him a hundred scudi for the benefit he has done him.

‘Oh, absolutely!’ the man exclaims, handing him a hundred scudi for the help he has given him.

‘There’s one of my three simpletons, at all events,’ says the young man, and journeys on.

‘There’s one of my three fools, at least,’ says the young man, and continues on his way.

The next day, at the inn where he spends the night, he hears a noise bru, bru! goes in to see, and finds a man fruitlessly trying to put walnuts into a sack by sticking a fork into them.

The next day, at the inn where he spent the night, he hears a noise bru, bru! He goes in to check it out and finds a man unsuccessfully trying to put walnuts into a sack by poking them with a fork.

‘You’ll never do it that way,’ says the young man; and he shows him how to scoop them up with both his hands and so pour them in.

‘You’ll never do it that way,’ says the young man; and he shows him how to scoop them up with both hands and pour them in.

‘Ah, to be sure!’ answers the man, and gives him a hundred scudi for the favour he has done him.

‘Oh, for sure!’ replies the man, handing him a hundred scudi for the favor he has done him.

‘There is my second simpleton,’ says the young man, and goes further. [369]

‘That’s my second fool,’ says the young man, and moves on. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

The third day——Ah! I can’t remember what he meets the third day; but it is something equally stupid, and he gets another hundred scudi, and goes back and marries the girl as he had promised.

The third day——Ah! I can’t remember what happens on the third day; but it’s something just as silly, and he gets another hundred scudi, and goes back and marries the girl as he promised.

When they had been married some time, he goes out for two or three days to shoot.

When they had been married for a while, he goes out for two or three days to go hunting.

‘I’ll come with you,’ says the wife.

‘I’ll go with you,’ says the wife.

‘Well, it’s not quite the thing,’ answered he; ‘but perhaps it’s better than leaving you at home; but mind you pull the door after you.’

‘Well, it’s not exactly ideal,’ he replied; ‘but maybe it’s better than leaving you at home. Just make sure to pull the door shut behind you.’

‘Oh yes, of course,’ answers the simple wife, and pulls it so effectually that she lifts it off its hinges and carries it along with her.

‘Oh yes, of course,’ replies the simple wife, and pulls it so effectively that she lifts it off its hinges and takes it with her.

When they had gone some way he looks back and sees her carrying the door.

When they had walked for a bit, he looked back and saw her carrying the door.

‘What on earth are you bringing the door along for!’ he cries.

‘What on earth are you bringing the door along for!’ he shouts.

‘You told me to pull it after me,’ answers she.

‘You told me to pull it after me,’ she replies.

‘Of course, I only meant you to pull it to, to make the house secure,’ he says.

‘Of course, I just meant for you to pull it closed, to keep the house safe,’ he says.

‘If merely pulling it to, made the house secure, how much securer it must be when I pull it all this way!’ answers she.

‘If just pulling it makes the house secure, how much more secure it must be when I pull it all this way!’ she replies.

He finds it useless to reason with her, and they go on. At night they climb up into a tree to sleep, the woman still carrying the door with her. A band of robbers come and count their gains under the tree; the woman from sheer weariness, and though she believes it will rouse the robbers to come and kill them, drops the door upon them. They take it for an earthquake and run away. The man and his wife then gather up the money, and are rich for the rest of their lives. [370]

He finds it pointless to argue with her, so they move on. At night, they climb up into a tree to sleep, with the woman still carrying the door. A group of robbers comes by and counts their loot under the tree; the woman, completely exhausted, and even though she thinks it will wake the robbers and lead to their death, drops the door on them. They mistake it for an earthquake and flee. The man and his wife then collect the money and live wealthy for the rest of their lives. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

2

[A version from Sinigaglia was very like the last. It only took up the story, however, after the husband and wife are married. The first silly thing the wife does is the feat of the ‘brocoli strascinati,’ as in ‘La Sposa Cece,’ No. 2. Some variety is always thrown in in the way of telling. This wife was represented as having a very sweet voice, and saying, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ in the gentlest and tenderest way in the world, to everything her husband tells her, though she mismanages everything so. After the brocoli affair he tells her to cook some beans for dinner. ‘Si, si, marito mio,’ she says in her sweet tone, but takes four beans only and boils them in a pot of water. When he comes in and asks if the beans are done, she says, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ She says she has cooked two beans apiece, but one has boiled away, so she will only take one for her share.

[A version from Sinigaglia was very similar to the last. It only picked up the story after the husband and wife got married. The first silly thing the wife does is the task of the ‘broccoli strascinati,’ as in ‘La Sposa Cece,’ No. 2. Some variety is always added in the way of storytelling. This wife was portrayed as having a very sweet voice and saying, ‘Yes, yes, my husband!’ in the gentlest and most tender way possible to everything her husband tells her, even though she messes up everything. After the broccoli incident, he asks her to cook some beans for dinner. ‘Yes, yes, my husband,’ she responds in her sweet tone, but takes only four beans and boils them in a pot of water. When he comes in and asks if the beans are ready, she says, ‘Yes, yes, my husband!’ She claims she has cooked two beans each, but one has boiled away, so she will only take one for herself.]

He finds it impossible to live with her, and goes away, but she in her simplicity says if he goes away she will go with him! When he finds he can’t prevent this he tells her to pull the door after her, and the story has the same ending as the last.

He can't stand living with her, so he leaves, but she, being naive, says that if he leaves, she'll go with him! When he realizes he can't stop her, he tells her to close the door behind her, and the story ends just like the last one.

After tales of simple wives come similar tales of simple boys. Compare ‘Russian Folktales,’ pp. 10 and 49. An analogous incident to the selling of the linen to a statue in the following is told of a grown-up peasant in Grimm’s ‘Der gute Handel,’ p. 30, which story is not unlike one called ‘How the poorest became the richest’ I have given from the German-Tirolese province of Vorarlberg at the end of ‘Household Stories from the Land of Höfer,’ a close counterpart of which I have met in a Roman periodical, told as collected at Modena. The Italian-Tirolese counterpart bears the name of ‘Turlulù,’ and resembles the Roman very closely. There is a place in German Tirol where they not only tell the story, but point out the Bildstocklein (the wayside image), to which the simple boy sold his linen; I cannot recall the place now, though I remember having occasion to mention it in ‘Traditions of Tirol’ in the ‘Monthly Packet.’ In the German there is also ‘Der gescheidte Hans,’ which is somewhat different in structure; but Scheible, ‘Schaltjahr,’ i. 493, gives a story which contains both ways of telling.] [371]

After stories about simple wives come similar stories about simple boys. Compare ‘Russian Folktales,’ pp. 10 and 49. A similar incident to selling linen to a statue is found in Grimm’s ‘Der gute Handel,’ p. 30. This story is somewhat like one called ‘How the Poorest Became the Richest,’ which I shared from the German-Tirolese province of Vorarlberg at the end of ‘Household Stories from the Land of Höfer.’ I encountered a close match of this story in a Roman publication, collected in Modena. The Italian-Tirolese version is called ‘Turlulù’ and is very similar to the Roman one. There’s a place in the German Tirol where they not only tell this story but also show the Bildstocklein (the wayside image) to which the simple boy sold his linen; I can’t remember the place now, though I know I mentioned it in ‘Traditions of Tirol’ in the ‘Monthly Packet.’ In German, there’s also ‘Der gescheidte Hans,’ which has a somewhat different structure, but Scheible, ‘Schaltjahr,’ i. 493, offers a story that includes both storytelling styles. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘La Donna Mattarella.’ ‘Matto’ is simply ‘mad,’ with the diminutive ‘ella’ it comes to mean ‘slightly mad,’ ‘simple.’ ↑

1 'La Donna Mattarella.' ‘Matto’ means ‘mad,’ and when you add the diminutive ‘ella,’ it translates to ‘a bit mad’ or ‘simple.’ ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE BOOBY.1

They say there was once a widow woman who had a very simple son. Whatever she set him to do he muddled in some way or other.

They say there was once a widow who had a very simple son. No matter what she asked him to do, he messed it up in some way or another.

‘What am I to do?’ said the poor mother to a neighbour one day. ‘The boy eats and drinks, and has to be clothed; what am I to do if I am to make no profit of him?’

‘What am I supposed to do?’ said the poor mother to a neighbor one day. ‘The boy eats and drinks, and needs to be clothed; what am I supposed to do if I’m not going to make any profit from him?’

‘You have kept him at home long enough;’ answered the neighbour. ‘Try sending him out, now; maybe that will answer better.’

‘You’ve kept him at home long enough,’ replied the neighbor. ‘Try sending him out now; maybe that will work better.’

The mother took the advice, and the next time she had got a piece of linen spun she called her boy, and said to him:

The mother took the advice, and the next time she had a piece of linen spun, she called her son and said to him:

‘If I send you out to sell this piece of linen, do you think you can manage to do it without committing any folly?’

‘If I send you out to sell this piece of linen, do you think you can handle it without making any mistakes?’

‘Yes, mama,’ answered the booby.

"Yes, mom," answered the booby.

‘You always say “yes mama,” but you do contrive to muddle everything all the same,’ replied the mother. ‘Now, listen attentively to all I say. Walk straight along the road without turning to right or left; don’t take less than such and such a price for it. Don’t have anything to say to women who chatter; whether you sell it to anyone you meet by the way, or carry it into the market, offer it only to some quiet sort of body whom you may see standing apart, and not gossiping and prating, for such as they will persuade you to take some sort of a price that won’t suit me at all.’

‘You always say “yes, mom,” but you still manage to mess everything up,’ replied the mother. ‘Now, listen carefully to everything I say. Walk straight along the road without turning right or left; don’t accept anything less than a specific price for it. Don’t talk to women who chatter; whether you sell it to anyone you meet along the way, or take it to the market, offer it only to someone quiet who isn’t gossiping, because those kinds of people will convince you to take a price that won’t work for me at all.’

The booby promised to follow these directions very exactly, and started on his way.

The booby promised to follow these directions exactly and set off on his journey.

On he walked, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, thus passing the turnings which led to the villages, to one or other of which he ought to have gone. But his [372]mother had only meant that he was not to turn off the pathway and lose himself.

On he walked, not turning to the right or the left, passing the paths that led to the villages he was supposed to visit. But his [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]mother had only meant for him not to stray off the path and get lost.

Presently he met the wife of the syndic of the next town, who was driving out with her maids, but had got out to walk a little stretch of the way, as the day was fine. The syndic’s wife was talking cheerfully with her maids, and when one of them caught sight of the simpleton, she said to her mistress:

Presently, he encountered the wife of the mayor of the next town, who was out driving with her maids but had stopped to walk a bit since the weather was nice. The mayor’s wife was chatting happily with her maids, and when one of them spotted the simpleton, she said to her mistress:

‘Here is the simple son of the poor widow by the brook.’

‘Here is the simple son of the poor widow by the stream.’

‘What are you going to do, my good lad?’ said the syndic’s wife kindly.

‘What are you going to do, my good guy?’ said the syndic’s wife kindly.

‘Not going to tell you, because you were chattering and gossiping,’ replied the booby boorishly, and tried to pass on.

‘Not going to tell you, because you were talking and gossiping,’ replied the idiot bluntly, and tried to walk away.

The syndic’s wife forgave his boorishness, and added:

The syndic's wife forgave his rude behavior and added:

‘I see your mother has sent you to sell this piece of linen. I will buy it of you, and that will save you walking further; put it in the carriage, and I’ll give you so much for it.’

‘I see your mom sent you to sell this piece of linen. I’ll buy it from you, and that’ll save you the trouble of walking further; put it in the carriage, and I’ll give you a fair price for it.’

Though she had offered him twice as much as his mother had told him to get for it, he would only answer:

Though she had offered him double what his mother had advised him to ask for it, he would only respond:

‘Can’t sell it to you, because you were chattering and gossiping.’

‘Can’t sell it to you, because you were talking and gossiping.’

Nor could they prevail on him to stop a moment longer.

Nor could they convince him to stay for even a moment longer.

Further along he came to a statue by the roadside.

Further down the road, he came across a statue.

‘Here’s one who stands apart and doesn’t chatter,’ said the booby to himself. ‘This is the one to sell the linen to.’ Then aloud to the statue, ‘Will you buy my linen, good friend?’ Then to himself. ‘She doesn’t speak, so it’s all right.’ Then to the statue, ‘The price is so-and-so; have the money ready against I come back, as I have to go on and buy some yarn for mother.’

'Here's someone who keeps to themselves and doesn't talk nonsense,' the fool thought to himself. 'This is the one to sell my linen to.' Then he said to the statue, 'Will you buy my linen, good friend?' After that, he muttered to himself, 'She doesn't speak, so it’s fine.' He then addressed the statue again, 'The price is this much; have the money ready when I return, because I need to go buy some yarn for my mom.'

On he went and bought the yarn, and then came back to the statue. Some one passing by meanwhile, and seeing the linen lie there had picked it up and walked off with it.

On he went and bought the yarn, and then came back to the statue. Meanwhile, someone passing by saw the linen lying there, picked it up, and walked off with it.

Finding it gone, the booby said to himself, ‘It’s all right, [373]she’s taken it.’ Then to the statue, ‘Where’s the money I told you to have ready against I came back?’ As the statue remained silent, the booby began to get uneasy. ‘My mother will be finely angry if I go back without the linen or the money,’ he said to himself. Then to the statue, ‘If you don’t give me the money directly I’ll hit you on the head.’

Finding it gone, the fool thought to himself, ‘It's okay, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]she's taken it.’ Then he said to the statue, ‘Where's the money I asked you to have ready for me when I got back?’ As the statue stayed silent, the fool started to feel anxious. ‘My mom is going to be really mad if I come back without the linens or the money,’ he muttered to himself. Then he said to the statue, ‘If you don’t give me the money right now, I’ll hit you on the head.’

The booby was as good as his word; lifting his thick rough walking-stick, he gave the statue such a blow that he knocked the head off.

The guy kept his promise; raising his thick, rough walking stick, he struck the statue so hard that he knocked its head off.

But the statue was hollow, and filled with gold coin.

But the statue was empty inside and filled with gold coins.

‘That’s where you keep your money, is it?’ said the booby, ‘all right, I can pay myself.’ So he filled his pockets with money and went back to his mother.

‘That’s where you keep your money, huh?’ said the fool, ‘fine, I can pay myself.’ So he stuffed his pockets with cash and went back to his mom.

‘Look, mama! here’s the price of the piece of linen.’

‘Look, Mom! Here’s the price of the piece of linen.’

‘All right!’ said the mother out loud; but to herself she said, ‘where can I ever hide all this lot of money? I have got no place to hide it but in this earthen jar, and if he knows how much it is worth, he will be letting out the secret to other people, and I shall be robbed.’

‘All right!’ said the mother out loud; but to herself she thought, ‘Where can I possibly hide all this money? The only place I have to hide it is in this clay jar, and if he finds out how much it’s worth, he’ll let the secret slip to others, and I’ll get robbed.’

So she put the money in the earthen jar, and said to the boy:

So she put the money in the clay jar and said to the boy:

‘They’ve cheated you in making you think that was coin; it’s nothing but a lot of rusty nails;2 but never mind, you’ll know better next time.’ And she went out to her work.

‘They’ve fooled you into thinking that was money; it’s just a bunch of rusty nails;2 but don’t worry, you’ll know better next time.’ And she went out to her work.

While she was gone out to her work there came by an old rag-merchant.

While she was out at work, an old rag merchant passed by.

‘Ho! here, rag-merchant!’ said the booby, who had acquired a taste for trading. ‘What will you give me for this lot of rusty nails?’ and he showed him the jar full of gold coin.

‘Hey! You there, rag-merchant!’ said the fool, who had taken an interest in trading. ‘What will you offer me for this bunch of rusty nails?’ and he showed him the jar full of gold coins.

The rag-merchant saw that he had to do with an idiot, so he said:

The rag dealer realized he was dealing with an idiot, so he said:

‘Well, old nails are not worth very much; but as I’m a good-natured old chap, I’ll give you twelve pauls for [374]them,’ because he knew he must offer enough to seem a prize to the idiot.

‘Well, old nails don't have much value; but since I’m a kind-hearted old guy, I’ll give you twelve pauls for [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] them,’ since he knew he had to offer enough to seem like a good deal to the fool.

‘You may have them at that,’ said the booby. And the rag-merchant poured the coin out into his sack, and gave the fool the twelve pauls.

‘You might be right about that,’ said the fool. And the rag-merchant dumped the coins into his sack and handed the idiot the twelve pauls.

‘Look mama, look! I’ve sold that lot of old rusty worthless nails for twelve pauls. Isn’t that a good bargain?’

‘Look, Mom, look! I sold that bunch of old, rusty, useless nails for twelve pennies. Isn’t that a great deal?’

‘Sold them for twelve pauls!’ cried the widow, tearing her hair, ‘Why, it was a fortune all in gold coin.’

‘Sold them for twelve pauls!’ yelled the widow, pulling at her hair, ‘That was a fortune all in gold coins.’

‘Can’t help it, mama,’ replied the booby; ‘you told me they were rusty nails.’

‘Can’t help it, mom,’ replied the booby; ‘you said they were rusty nails.’

Another day she told him to shut the door of the cottage; but as he went to do it he lifted the door off its hinges. His mother called after him in an angry voice, which so frightened him that he ran away, carrying the door on his back.

Another day she told him to close the door of the cottage; but as he went to do it, he ended up lifting the door off its hinges. His mother called after him in an angry voice, which scared him so much that he ran away, carrying the door on his back.

As he went along, some one to tease him, said, ‘Where did you steal that door?’ which frightened him still more, and he climbed up in a tree with it to hide it.

As he walked along, someone teasing him said, ‘Where did you steal that door?’ This scared him even more, and he climbed up a tree with it to hide.

At night there came a band of robbers under the tree, and counted out all their gains in large bags of money. The booby was so frightened at the sight of so many fierce-looking robbers, that he began to tremble and let go of the door.

At night, a group of robbers gathered under the tree and started counting their loot in big bags of cash. The fool was so scared by the sight of so many intimidating robbers that he began to shake and dropped the door.

The door fell with a bang in the midst of the robbers, who thinking it must be that the police were upon them, decamped, leaving all their money behind.

The door slammed shut in front of the robbers, who, thinking the police had come for them, fled, leaving all their money behind.

The booby came down from the tree and carried the money home to his mother, and they became so rich that she was able to appoint a servant to attend to him, and keep him from doing any more mischief.

The booby came down from the tree and took the money home to his mother, and they got so rich that she could hire a servant to take care of him, keeping him from causing any more trouble.

[After the boys, the girls come in for their share of hard [375]jokes; here is one who figures both as a daughter and a wife. Grimm has the same, with a slight variation, as ‘Rumpelstilzchen,’ p. 219, and the Italian-Tirol Tales give it as ‘Tarandandò;’ the incident on which these two hinge of a supernatural being giving his help on condition of the person he favours remembering his name, is of frequent occurrence. I have met it in two German-Tirolese stories, ‘The Wilder Jäger and the Baroness,’ and in ‘Klein-Else’ in ‘Household Stories,’ and in a local tradition told me at Salzburg, which I have given in ‘Traditions of Tirol,’ No. XVI. in ‘Monthly Packet,’ each time the sprite gets a new name; in this one it was ‘Hahnenzuckerl.’ The supernatural helper delivering the girl from future as well as present labour occurs in the Spanish equivalent, ‘What Ana saw in the Sunbeam,’ in ‘Patrañas,’ but in favour of a good, instead of a lazy or greedy girl; and so with the girl in the Norse tale of ‘The Three Aunts.’ ‘Die faule Spinnerin,’ Grimm, p. 495, helps herself to the same end without supernatural aid.]

[After the boys, the girls come in for their share of hard [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]jokes; here’s one who serves as both a daughter and a wife. Grimm has a similar story, with a slight twist, in ‘Rumpelstilzchen,’ p. 219, and the Italian-Tirol Tales present it as ‘Tarandandò;’ the situation where a supernatural being offers help on the condition that the person remembers his name appears often. I’ve encountered it in two German-Tirolese stories, ‘The Wilder Jäger and the Baroness,’ and in ‘Klein-Else’ from ‘Household Stories,’ as well as in a local tradition shared with me in Salzburg, which I’ve included in ‘Traditions of Tirol,’ No. XVI in ‘Monthly Packet,’ where the sprite gets a new name each time; in this case, it was ‘Hahnenzuckerl.’ The supernatural helper freeing the girl from future and present labor also appears in the Spanish equivalent, ‘What Ana saw in the Sunbeam,’ in ‘Patrañas,’ but this one helps a good girl instead of a lazy or greedy one; the same goes for the girl in the Norse tale ‘The Three Aunts.’ ‘Die faule Spinnerin,’ Grimm, p. 495, achieves the same goal without any supernatural help.]

1 ‘Il Tonto.’ ↑

1 'The Fool.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Chiodacci;’ ‘chiodi,’ nails; ‘chiodacci,’ old rusty nails. ↑

2 ‘Chiodacci;’ ‘chiodi,’ nails; ‘chiodacci,’ old rusty nails. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE GLUTTONOUS GIRL.1

There was a poor woman who went out to work by the day. She had one idle, good-for-nothing daughter, who would never do any work, and cared for nothing but eating, always taking the best of everything for herself, and not caring how her mother fared.

There was a struggling woman who went out to work each day. She had one lazy, useless daughter who refused to do any work and was only interested in eating, always taking the best of everything for herself and not caring at all about how her mother was doing.

One day the mother, when she went out to her work, left the girl some beans to cook for dinner, and some pieces of bacon-rind2 to stew along with them. When the pieces of bacon-rind were nicely done, she took them out and ate them herself, and then found a pair of dirty old shoe-soles, which she pared in slices, and put them into the stew for her mother.

One day, when the mother went out to work, she left the girl some beans to cook for dinner and some pieces of bacon rind to stew with them. When the bacon rind was nicely cooked, she took it out and ate it herself, and then found a pair of dirty old shoe soles, which she sliced and added to the stew for her mother.

When the poor mother came home, not only were there no pieces of bacon which she could eat, but the beans themselves were rendered so nasty by the shoe-soles [376]that she could not eat them either. Determined to give her daughter a good lesson, once for all, on this occasion, she took her outside her cottage door, and beat her well with a stick.

When the struggling mother got home, not only was there no bacon for her to eat, but the beans were made so disgusting by the shoe soles [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] that she couldn't eat those either. Wanting to teach her daughter a lesson for good this time, she took her outside the cottage and whipped her with a stick.

Just as she was administering this chastisement, a farmer3 came by.

Just as she was giving this punishment, a farmer3 passed by.

‘What are you beating this pretty lass for?’ asked the man.

‘Why are you hitting this pretty girl?’ asked the man.

‘Because she will work so hard at her household duties that she works on Sundays and holidays the same as common days,’ answered the mother, who, bad as her daughter was, yet had not the heart to give her a bad character.

‘Because she will work so hard at her household tasks that she works on Sundays and holidays just like any other day,’ replied the mother, who, despite her daughter's faults, still didn’t have the heart to speak poorly of her.

‘That is the first time I ever heard of a mother beating her child for doing too much work; the general complaint is that they do too little. Will you let me have her for a wife? I should like such a wife as that.’

‘That’s the first time I’ve ever heard of a mother hitting her kid for working too hard; the usual complaint is that they don’t do enough. Will you let me have her as my wife? I’d like a wife like that.’

‘Impossible!’ replied the mother, in order to enhance her daughter’s value; ‘she does all the work of the house, I can’t spare her; what shall I do without her?’

‘No way!’ replied the mother, to boost her daughter’s importance; ‘she does all the housework, I can’t let her go; what will I do without her?’

‘I must give you something to make up for the loss,’ replied the merchant; ‘but such a notable wife as this I have long been in search of, and I must not miss the chance.’

‘I have to give you something to make up for your loss,’ the merchant replied. ‘But a remarkable wife like this is something I’ve been looking for a long time, and I can’t let this opportunity slip away.’

‘But I cannot spare such a notable daughter, either,’ persisted the mother.

‘But I can’t spare such an important daughter, either,’ the mother insisted.

‘What do you say if I give you five hundred scudi?’

‘What do you think if I give you five hundred scudi?’

‘If I let her go, it is not because of the five hundred scudi,’ said the mother; ‘it is because you seem a husband, who will really appreciate her; though I don’t say five hundred scudi will not be a help to a poor lone widow.’

‘If I let her go, it’s not because of the five hundred scudi,’ said the mother; ‘it’s because you seem like a husband who will truly appreciate her; although I won’t deny that five hundred scudi would be a big help to a poor lonely widow.’

‘Let it be agreed then. I am going now to the fair; when I come back let the girl be ready, and I’ll take her back with me.’

‘Alright, it's settled. I'm heading to the fair now; when I return, the girl should be ready, and I'll take her back with me.’

Accordingly, when the farmer returned from the fair, he fetched the girl away. [377]

Accordingly, when the farmer came back from the fair, he took the girl with him. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

When he got home his mother came out to ask how his affairs had prospered at the fair.

When he got home, his mom came out to ask how things went for him at the fair.

‘Middling well, at the fair,’ replied the man; ‘but, by the way, I found a treasure, and I have brought her home to make her my wife. She is so hardworking that she can’t be kept from working, even on Sundays.’

‘Doing pretty well at the fair,’ replied the man; ‘but, by the way, I found a treasure, and I brought her home to make her my wife. She’s so hardworking that she can’t help but work, even on Sundays.’

‘She doesn’t look as if there was much work in her,’ observed the mother dryly; ‘but if you’re satisfied that’s enough.’

‘She doesn’t seem like she’s put in much effort,’ the mother said dryly; ‘but if you’re happy with that, that’s what matters.’

All went well enough the first week, because she was not expected to do much just at first, but at the end of that time the husband had to go to a distant fair which would keep him absent three weeks. Before he went he took his new wife up into the store-room, and said, ‘Here are provisions of all sorts, and you will have all you like to eat and drink; and here is a quantity of hemp, which you can amuse yourself with spinning and weaving if you want more employment than merely keeping the place in order.’

Everything was going fine during the first week since she wasn’t expected to do much right away. But by the end of that week, her husband had to leave for a faraway fair, which would keep him away for three weeks. Before he left, he took his new wife into the storage room and said, “Here are all kinds of food and drink, so you’ll have plenty to eat and drink. And here’s a bunch of hemp that you can use to keep yourself busy spinning and weaving if you want more to do than just keeping things tidy.”

Then he gave her a set of rooms to herself, next the store-chamber, that there might be no cause of quarrel with the mother-in-law, who, he knew, was inclined to be jealous of her, and said good-bye.

Then he gave her a set of rooms to herself, next to the store-chamber, so there wouldn't be any reason for conflict with the mother-in-law, who he knew was prone to being jealous of her, and said goodbye.

Left to herself, she did no more work than she could help; all the nice things she found she cooked and ate, and that was all the work she did. As to the hemp, she never touched it; nor did she even clean up the place, or attempt to put it tidy.

Left to her own devices, she did as little work as possible; all the nice things she found, she cooked and ate, and that was the extent of her work. As for the hemp, she never bothered with it; nor did she clean up the place or try to tidy it up.

When the husband had been gone a fortnight, the mother-in-law came up to see how she was going on, and when she saw the hemp untouched, and the place in disorder, she said, ‘So this is how you go on when your husband is away!’

When the husband had been gone for two weeks, the mother-in-law came to check on how she was doing, and when she saw the hemp untouched and the place in disarray, she said, 'So this is how you get by when your husband is away!'

‘You mind your affairs, and I’ll mind mine,’4 answered the wife, and the mother-in-law went away offended.

‘You take care of your own business, and I’ll take care of mine,’ 4 replied the wife, and the mother-in-law left feeling hurt.

Nevertheless, it was true that in eight days the husband would be back, and might expect to see something [378]done, so she took up a lot of hemp and began trying to spin it; but, as she had no idea of how to do it, she went on in the most absurd way imaginable with it.

Nevertheless, it was true that in eight days the husband would be back, and he might expect to see something [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]done, so she picked up a lot of hemp and started trying to spin it; but since she had no idea how to do it, she went about it in the most ridiculous way possible.

As she stood on the top of the outside staircase, twisting it this way and that, there passed three deformed fairies. One was lame, and one squinted,5 and one had her head all on one side, because she had a fish-bone stuck in her throat.

As she stood at the top of the outside stairs, twisting it this way and that, three deformed fairies passed by. One was lame, one squinted, and one had her head tilted to one side because she had a fish bone stuck in her throat.

The three fairies called out to ask what she was doing, and when she said ‘spinning,’ the one who squinted laughed so much that her eyes came quite right, and the one who had a bone stuck in her throat laughed so much that the bone came out, and her head became straight again like other people’s, and when the lame one saw the others laughing so much, she ran so fast to see what it was that her lameness was cured.

The three fairies shouted out to ask what she was doing, and when she replied ‘spinning,’ the squinting one laughed so hard that her eyes straightened out, and the one who had a bone lodged in her throat laughed so much that the bone popped out, and her head became normal like everyone else’s. When the lame fairy saw the others laughing so much, she ran over so quickly to see what was happening that her lameness was healed.

Then the three fairies said:

Then the three fairies said:

‘Since she has cured us of our ailments, we must go in and do her a good turn.’

‘Since she has healed us, we should go in and do something nice for her.’

So they went in and took the hemp and span it, and wove it, and did as much in the six remaining days as any human being could have done in twenty years; moreover, they cleaned up everything, and made everything look spick-and-span new.

So they went in, took the hemp, spun it, and wove it, accomplishing in those six days what anyone else could have done in twenty years. On top of that, they cleaned everything up and made everything look brand new.

Then they gave her a bag of walnuts, saying, ‘in half an hour your husband will be home; go to bed and put this bag of walnuts under your back. When he comes in say you have worked so hard that all your bones are out of joint; then move the bag of walnuts and they will make a noise, c-r-r-r-r, and he will think it is your bones which are loosened, and will say you must never work again.’

Then they gave her a bag of walnuts, saying, ‘In half an hour, your husband will be home; go to bed and put this bag of walnuts under your back. When he comes in, say you’ve worked so hard that all your bones are out of joint; then move the bag of walnuts and they will make a noise, c-r-r-r-r, and he’ll think it’s your bones that are loose, and he will say you must never work again.’

When the husband came home his mother went out to meet him, saying—

When the husband came home, his mother went out to greet him, saying—

‘I told you I did not think there was much work in your “treasure.” When you go up you’ll see what a fine [379]mess the place is all in; and as to the hemp, you had better have left it locked up, for a fine mess she has made of that.’

‘I told you I didn’t think there was much value in your “treasure.” When you go up, you’ll see what a fine [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]mess the place is; and as for the hemp, you should have just left it locked up, because she’s made a real mess of that.’

But the husband went up and found the place all in shining order, and so much hemp spun and woven as could scarcely be got through in twenty years. But the wife was laid up in bed.

But the husband went upstairs and found everything in perfect order, with so much hemp spun and woven that it would take almost twenty years to get through it all. Meanwhile, the wife was in bed.

When the husband came near the bed she moved the bag of walnuts and they went c-r-r-r-r.

When the husband approached the bed, she moved the bag of walnuts and they went c-r-r-r-r.

‘You have done a lot of work indeed!’ said the husband.

‘You’ve really put in a lot of effort!’ said the husband.

‘Yes,’ replied the wife; ‘but I have put all my bones out of joint; only hear how they rumble!’ and she moved the walnuts again, and they went c-r-r-r-r. ‘It will be sometime before I am about again.’

‘Yeah,’ the wife replied, ‘but I’ve dislocated all my joints; just listen to how they creak!’ She shook the walnuts again, and they went c-r-r-r-r. ‘It’s going to take a while before I’m back on my feet again.’

‘Oh, dear! oh, dear!’ said the husband; ‘only think of such a treasure of a wife being laid up by such marvellous diligence.’

‘Oh, no! oh, no!’ said the husband; ‘just think about such a wonderful wife being stuck at home due to such incredible hard work.’

And to his mother he said: ‘A mother-in-law has never a good word for her daughter-in-law; what you told me was all pure invention.’

And he said to his mother, "A mother-in-law never has a nice word for her daughter-in-law; what you told me was just made up."

But to the wife he said: ‘Mind I will never have you do any work again as long as you live.’

But to his wife he said, "Just so you know, I will never make you do any work again for the rest of your life."

So from that day forth she had no work to do, but ate and drank and amused herself from morning till night. [380]

So from that day on, she had nothing to do but eat, drink, and entertain herself from morning until night. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘La Ragazza Golosa;’ ‘goloso’ means, in particular, greedy of nice things. ↑

1 'The Hungry Girl;' ‘goloso’ specifically means someone who is greedy for nice things. ↑

2 ‘Codiche di presciúto.’ ↑

2 'Prosciutto Codes.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

3 ‘Mercante di Campagna.’ See Note 2, p. 154. ↑

3 ‘Local Merchant.’ See Note 2, p. 154. ↑

4 ‘Voi pensate a voi ed io penso a me!’ ‘Pensare’ is much used in Rome in the sense of ‘to attend to,’ ‘to provide for.’ ↑

4 ‘You think about yourselves and I think about myself!’ ‘To think’ is often used in Rome to mean ‘to take care of,’ ‘to provide for.’ ↑

5 ‘Guèrcia,’ see Note 3 to ‘The Two Friars;’ in this case squinting seems intended. ↑

5 ‘Guèrcia,’ refer to Note 3 in ‘The Two Friars;’ here, squinting appears to be the purpose. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

2

THE GREEDY DAUGHTER.1

There was a mother who had a daughter so greedy that she did not know what to do with her. Everything in the house she would eat up. When the poor mother came home from work there was nothing left.

There was a mother who had a daughter so greedy that she didn’t know what to do with her. She would eat everything in the house. When the poor mother came home from work, there was nothing left.

But the girl had a godfather-wolf.2 The wolf had a frying-pan, and the girl’s mother was too poor to possess such an article; whenever she wanted to fry anything she sent her daughter to the wolf to borrow his frying-pan, and he always sent a nice omelette in it by way of not sending it empty. But the girl was so greedy and so selfish that she not only always ate the omelette by the way, but when she took the frying-pan back she filled it with all manner of nasty things.

But the girl had a wolf for a godfather. The wolf had a frying pan, and the girl's mother was too poor to own one. Whenever she needed to fry something, she would send her daughter to borrow the wolf's frying pan, and he always sent back a nice omelette instead of sending it back empty. But the girl was so greedy and selfish that she not only ate the omelette on the way back but also filled the frying pan with all kinds of disgusting things when she returned it.

At last the wolf got hurt at this way of going on, and he came to the house to inquire into the matter.

At last, the wolf got hurt by this behavior, so he went to the house to find out what was going on.

Godfather-wolf met the mother on the step of the door, returning from work.

Godfather Wolf met the mother on the doorstep, coming home from work.

‘How do you like my omelettes?’ asked the wolf.

‘How do you like my omelettes?’ asked the wolf.

‘I am sure they would be good if made by our godfather-wolf,’ replied the poor woman; ‘but I never had the honour of tasting them.’

‘I’m sure they would be good if made by our godfather-wolf,’ replied the poor woman; ‘but I’ve never had the honor of tasting them.’

‘Never tasted them! Why, how many times have you sent to borrow my frying-pan?’

‘Never tasted them! How many times have you borrowed my frying pan?’

‘I am ashamed to say how many times; a great many, certainly.’

‘I’m embarrassed to say how many times; a lot, for sure.’

‘And every time I sent you an omelette in it.’

‘And every time I sent you an omelet in it.’

‘Never one reached me.’

‘No one ever reached me.’

‘Then that hussey of a girl must have eaten them by the way.’

‘Then that hussy of a girl must have eaten them along the way.’

The poor mother, anxious to screen her daughter, burst into all manner of excuses, but the wolf now saw how it all was. To make sure, however, he added: ‘The [381]omelettes would have been better had the frying-pan not always been full of such nasty things. I did my best always to clean it, but it was not easy.’

The poor mother, worried about protecting her daughter, came up with all kinds of excuses, but the wolf could see right through it. To make sure, though, he added: ‘The [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]omelettes would have turned out better if the frying pan hadn’t always been filled with such gross stuff. I always tried to clean it, but it wasn’t easy.’

‘Oh, godfather-wolf, you are joking! I always cleaned it, inside and out, as bright as silver, every time before I sent it back!’

‘Oh, godfather-wolf, you’re kidding! I always cleaned it, inside and out, as shiny as silver, every time before I sent it back!’

The wolf now knew all, and he said no more to the mother; but the next day, when she was out, he came back.

The wolf now knew everything, and he didn't say anything else to the mother; but the next day, when she was out, he returned.

When the girl saw him coming she was so frightened and self-convicted that she ran under the bed to hide herself.

When the girl saw him coming, she was so scared and filled with guilt that she ran under the bed to hide.

But to the wolf it was as easy to go under a bed as anywhere else; so under he went, and he dragged her out and devoured her. And that was the end of the Greedy Daughter.

But for the wolf, it was as easy to go under a bed as anywhere else; so he went under and dragged her out and devoured her. And that was the end of the Greedy Daughter.

[In the Italian-Tirolese tales is one very similar to this, called ‘Catarinetta.’

[In the Italian-Tirolese stories, there's one that's very similar to this, called 'Catarinetta.']

After the faults of the young, the sins of the old have their share of mocking. In the ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ pp. 46–50, is a miser story, but, for a wonder, not the least trace of similarity.

After the mistakes of the young, the wrongdoings of the old get their share of ridicule. In the ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ pp. 46–50, there's a story about a miser, but, surprisingly, there’s not even a hint of similarity.

In Scheible’s ‘Schaltjahr,’ vol. i. pp. 169–71, is a very quaint miser story, bringing in also an instance of wolf-transformation, which is said to have happened ‘in Italy,’ to a certain Herr v. Schotenberg, on August 14, 1798. He had seized a poor peasant’s only cow for a debt, and when, in punishment, all his own cows were struck dead, he accused the peasant’s wife of bewitching them, and threatened to have her burnt. The peasant’s wife answered that it was the judgment of God, not hers; and upon that he turned to the crucifix in the farmyard, saying: ‘Oh, you did it, did you? then you may go and eat the carrion [382]you have made, with the dogs.’ Then he took out his pistol, shot an arm off the crucifix, and flung it on to the heap of dead cows, saying, ‘Now one piece of carrion lies with the rest!’ ‘Albeit it was only a wooden image,’ says the account, ‘yet it was of God in Heaven that he spoke, who punished him on the spot by turning him into a dog.’ The portrait which accompanies the story is quaint, too, having a human face, with wolfish, erect ears, and the rest of the body like a dog. He wore at the time a fur cloak, of pale yellow with black spots, and that is how the dog’s fur appeared; and he had to eat carrion all his life, and follow his good wife about, wherever she went.]

In Scheible’s ‘Schaltjahr,’ vol. i. pp. 169–71, there's a very unique miser story, which also includes an example of wolf transformation that supposedly took place ‘in Italy,’ involving a certain Herr v. Schotenberg on August 14, 1798. He had taken a poor peasant’s only cow to settle a debt, and when all his own cows died as punishment, he blamed the peasant’s wife for casting a spell on them and threatened to burn her. The peasant’s wife replied that it was God's judgment, not hers; at which point he turned to the crucifix in the yard and said, ‘Oh, so you did this? Then you can go eat the carrion [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]you’ve created, with the dogs.’ He then pulled out his pistol, shot an arm off the crucifix, and threw it onto the pile of dead cows, saying, ‘Now one piece of carrion lies with the rest!’ The account notes, ‘Even though it was just a wooden image,’ he was speaking to God in Heaven, who punished him right away by turning him into a dog.’ The illustration that accompanies the story is unique as well, featuring a human face with wolf-like, upright ears, and the rest of the body resembles a dog. He was wearing a pale yellow fur cloak with black spots at the time, which is how the dog’s fur appeared; and he had to eat carrion for the rest of his life and follow his good wife wherever she went.

1 ‘La Figlia Ghiotta.’ ‘Ghiotta’ and ‘golosa’ have much the same meaning. ↑

1 ‘The Gluttonous Daughter.’ ‘Ghiotta’ and ‘golosa’ mean pretty much the same thing. ↑

2 ‘Compare-lupo’ (lit. had a wolf for godfather); ‘compare’ for ‘compadre,’ godfather, gossip. Lycanthropy had an important place in the mediæval as in the earlier mythologies; witches were often accused of turning people into wolves by the use of their ointments. Our ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ is connected with it, and several in the German and Tirolese Stories, but it is too wide a subject to enter upon here. ↑

2 ‘Compare-lupo’ (literally, had a wolf for a godfather); ‘compare’ means ‘compadre,’ godfather, or gossip. Lycanthropy was significant in medieval times and earlier mythologies; witches were often accused of using their ointments to turn people into wolves. Our story of ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ is connected to this, along with several others in German and Tyrolean folklore, but it’s too broad a topic to delve into here. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE OLD MISER.1

They say there was once an old man who had so much money he didn’t know what to do with it. He had cellars and cellars, where all the floors were strewn with gold; but the house was all tumbling down, because he would not spend a penny in repairing it; and for all food he took nothing all day but a crust of bread and a glass of water.

They say there was once an old man who had so much money he didn’t know what to do with it. He had cellar after cellar, with the floors covered in gold; but his house was falling apart because he wouldn’t spend a dime to fix it. As for food, he barely ate anything all day except for a crust of bread and a glass of water.

He was always afraid lest some one should come to rob him of his wealth, so he seldom so much as spoke to anyone.

He was always worried that someone might come to steal his money, so he rarely even talked to anyone.

One day, however, a busy, talkative neighbour would have her say out with him, and among other things she said: ‘How can you go on living in that ugly old house all alone now? Why don’t you take a wife?’

One day, though, a chatty neighbor decided to voice her thoughts to him, and among other things she said, "How can you keep living in that ugly old house all by yourself now? Why don’t you get married?"

‘A wife!’ replied the old miser; ‘how can I take a wife? How am I to afford to keep a wife, I should like to know?’

‘A wife!’ replied the old miser; ‘how can I take a wife? How am I supposed to afford to support a wife, I’d like to know?’

‘Nonsense!’ persisted the loquacious neighbour; ‘you’ve got plenty of money, you know. And how much better you’d be if you had a wife. Do you mean to tell me, now, you wouldn’t be much better off with one? Now answer me fairly.’ [383]

‘Nonsense!’ continued the chatty neighbor; ‘you have plenty of money, you know. And you’d be so much better off with a wife. Are you really saying you wouldn’t be better off with one? Now answer me honestly.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Well, if I must speak the truth, as you are so urgent for an answer,’ replied the old miser, ‘I don’t mean to say I haven’t often thought I should like a wife; but I am waiting till I find one who can live upon air.’2

‘Well, if I have to be honest, since you’re so eager for an answer,’ replied the old miser, ‘I don’t mean to say I haven’t often thought I’d like to have a wife; but I’m waiting until I find one who can live on air.’2

‘Well, maybe there might be such an one even as you say,’ returned the busy neighbour; ‘though she might not be easy to find.’ And she said no more for that day.

‘Well, maybe there is someone like you said,’ replied the busy neighbor; ‘but she might be hard to find.’ And she didn’t say anything more that day.

She went, however, to a young woman who lived opposite, and said: ‘If you want a rich husband I will find you one.’

She went to a young woman who lived across the street and said, "If you want a wealthy husband, I’ll find you one."

‘To be sure I should like a rich husband,’ replied the young woman; ‘who would not?’

‘Of course I’d like to marry someone wealthy,’ replied the young woman; ‘who wouldn’t?’

‘Very well, then,’ continued the neighbour; ‘I will tell you what to do. You have only, every day at dinner-time, to stand at the window and suck in the air, and move your lips as if you were eating. But eat nothing; take nothing into your mouth but air. The old miser who lives opposite wants a wife who can live on air; and if he thinks you can do this he will marry you. And when you are once installed it’ll be odd if you don’t find means, in the midst of so much money, to lay hold of enough to get a dinner every day without working for it.’

‘Alright, then,’ the neighbor continued; ‘I’ll tell you what to do. Every day at dinner time, just stand by the window and breathe in the air, moving your lips like you’re eating. But don’t actually eat anything; just take in air. The old miser across the street is looking for a wife who can live on air, and if he thinks you can do that, he’ll marry you. Once you’re in that position, it’ll be surprising if you don’t find a way, with all that money around, to get enough for a meal every day without having to work for it.’

The young woman thanked her friend for the advice, and next day, when the bells rang at noon, she threw open the window and stood sucking in the air, and then moving her lips as if she was eating. This she did several days.

The young woman thanked her friend for the advice, and the next day, when the bells rang at noon, she threw open the window and stood there breathing in the air, then moving her lips as if she were eating. She did this for several days.

At last the old miser came across under the window, and said to her: ‘What are you doing at the window there?’

At last, the old miser came by the window and asked her, “What are you doing there?”

‘Don’t you see it’s dinner-time, and I’m taking my dinner? Don’t interrupt me!’ replied the young neighbour.

‘Can’t you see it’s dinner time and I’m having my meal? Please don’t interrupt me!’ replied the young neighbor.

‘But, excuse me,3 I don’t see you are eating anything, though your lips move.’

‘But, excuse me, 3 I don’t see you eating anything, even though your lips are moving.’

‘O! I live upon air; I take nothing but air,’ replied the young woman; and she went on with her mock munching. [384]

‘Oh! I live on air; I eat nothing but air,’ replied the young woman; and she continued her pretend munching. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘You live upon air, do you? Then you’re just the wife I’m looking for. Will you come down and marry me?’

‘You live on air, do you? Then you’re just the wife I’m looking for. Will you come down and marry me?’

As this was just what she wanted she did not keep him waiting, and soon they were married and she was installed in the miser’s house.

As this was exactly what she wanted, she didn't make him wait, and soon they were married and she was settled in the miser's house.

But it was not so easy to get at the money as she had thought. At first the miser would not let her go near his cellars; but as he spent so much time down there she said she could not be deprived of his company for so long, she must come down too.

But it wasn't as easy to get to the money as she had thought. At first, the miser wouldn't let her near his cellars; but since he spent so much time down there, she said she couldn't be without his company for that long, so she had to go down too.

All the time she was down with him the miser held both her hands in his, as if he was full of affection for her; but in reality it was to make sure she did not touch any of his money.

All the time she was with him, the miser held both her hands in his, as if he really cared for her; but in reality, it was to make sure she didn't touch any of his money.

She, however, bought some pitch, and put it on the soles of her shoes, and as she walked about in the gold plenty of it stuck to her shoes; and when she came up again she took the gold off her shoes, and sent her maid to the trattoria4 for the most delicious dinners. Shut up in a room apart they fared sumptuously—she and her maid. But every day at midday she let the miser see her taking her fancied dinner of air.

She, however, bought some pitch and applied it to the soles of her shoes. As she walked around in the gold, a lot stuck to her shoes. When she returned, she removed the gold from her shoes and sent her maid to the trattoria4 for the most delicious dinners. Locked away in a separate room, she and her maid enjoyed a lavish meal. But every day at noon, she allowed the miser to see her pretending to have a fancy dinner of air.

This went on for long, because the miser had so much gold that he never missed the few pieces that stuck to her shoes every day.

This went on for a long time because the miser had so much gold that he never noticed the few coins that got stuck to her shoes each day.

But at last there came a Carneval Thursday,5 when the maid had brought home an extra fine dinner; and as they were an extra length of time over this extra number of dishes and glasses, the old miser, always suspicious, began to guess there must be something wrong; and to find it out he instituted a scrutiny into every room in the crazy house. Thus he came at last to the room where his wife and her maid were dining sumptuously.

But finally, there came a Carneval Thursday,5 when the maid brought home a really nice dinner; and since they took an unusually long time enjoying this extra meal with all the dishes and glasses, the old miser, who was always suspicious, started to suspect that something was off. To figure it out, he decided to check every room in the chaotic house. Eventually, he arrived at the room where his wife and her maid were having a lavish meal.

‘This is how you live on air, is it?’ he roared, red with fury. [385]

‘So this is how you live on air, huh?’ he shouted, his face flushed with anger. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Oh, but on Carneval Thursday,’ replied the wife, ‘one may have a little extra indulgence!’

‘Oh, but on Carnival Thursday,’ replied the wife, ‘you can indulge a bit more!’

‘Will you tell me you have not had a private dinner every day?’ shouted the excited miser.

"Will you tell me you haven't had your own private dinner every day?" shouted the excited miser.

‘If I have,’ replied the wife, not liking to tell a direct falsehood, ‘how do you know it is not with my own money? Tell me, have you missed any of yours?’

‘If I have,’ replied the wife, hesitant to outright lie, ‘how do you know it's not with my own money? Tell me, have you noticed any of yours missing?’

The miser was only the more angry at her way of putting the question, because he could not say he had actually missed the money; yet he was convinced it was his money she had been spending.

The miser was even more upset by her phrasing of the question because he couldn't honestly say he had truly lost the money; still, he was sure it was his money she had been using.

‘How do I know it is not your money, do you ask?’ he thundered; ‘because if you had had any money of your own you would never have come to live here, you would not have married me.’

‘How do I know it’s not your money, you ask?’ he shouted; ‘because if you had any money of your own, you would have never come to live here, and you wouldn’t have married me.’

But weak as he was with his bread and water diet, the excitement was too much for him. As he said these words a convulsion seized him, and he fell down dead.

But weak as he was from his bread and water diet, the excitement was too much for him. As he said these words, a convulsion took hold of him, and he collapsed and died.

Thus all his riches came into possession of the wife.

Thus, all his wealth came into the wife's possession.

1 ‘Il Vecchio Avaro.’ (The Avaricious Old Man.) ↑

1 'The Miser.' (The Greedy Old Man.) ↑

2 ‘Che campasse d’aria,’ who should subsist on air. ↑

2 ‘Who could survive on nothing but air.’ ↑

3 ‘Abbi pazienza,’ have patience; equivalent to ‘please,’ ‘pray excuse me,’ &c. ↑

3 ‘Have patience’; similar to ‘please,’ ‘excuse me,’ &c. ↑

4 ‘Trattoria,’ an eating-house, but one where, as a rule, dinners are sent out. ↑

4 'Trattoria,' a restaurant, but usually where meals are takeout. ↑

5 ‘Giovedi grasso,’ Thursday in Carneval week, a day of a little extra feasting. ↑

5 'Fat Thursday,' the Thursday during Carnival week, a day for indulging a bit more in feasting. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE MISERLY OLD WOMAN.1

There was an old woman who had three sons, and from her stinginess she could not bear that anyone should have anything to eat. One day the eldest son came to her and said he must take a wife.

There was an old woman who had three sons, and because she was so stingy, she couldn't stand the idea of anyone having food to eat. One day, the eldest son approached her and said he needed to marry.

‘If you must, you must,’ replied the miserly mother. ‘But mind she is one who brings a great dowry, eats little, and can work all day long.’ [386]

‘If you have to, you have to,’ replied the stingy mother. ‘But remember, she comes with a large dowry, eats very little, and can work all day long.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

The eldest son went his way and told the girl he was going to marry his mother’s hard terms. As the girl loved him very much, she made no objection, and he married her, and brought her home.2

The oldest son went to the girl and told her he was going to marry her on his mother’s strict conditions. Since the girl loved him a lot, she didn’t object, and they got married and moved in together.2

The first morning the mother-in-law came before it was light, and knocked at the door, and bid the bride get up and come down to her work.

The first morning the mother-in-law arrived before it was light, knocked on the door, and told the bride to get up and come down to do her chores.

‘It is very hard for you,’ said the young husband.

"It’s really tough for you," said the young husband.

‘Ah, well! I promised to submit to it before we married,’ she replied. ‘I won’t break my promise.’

‘Oh, well! I said I would go along with it before we got married,’ she replied. ‘I won’t go back on my promise.’

So she got up and went down and helped her mother-in-law to do the work of the house. By twelve o’clock she was very hungry; but the miserly mother-in-law only took out an apple and a halfpenny roll, and gave her half of each for all her food. She took it without a murmur; and so she went on every day, working hard, and eating little, and making no complaint.

So she got up, went downstairs, and helped her mother-in-law with the housework. By noon, she was really hungry, but her stingy mother-in-law only offered her an apple and a halfpenny roll, giving her half of each for her meal. She accepted it without a word and continued this way every day, working hard, eating very little, and never complaining.

By-and-by the second son came and told his mother that he was going to take a wife. The mother made the same conditions, and the wife submitted to them with equally good grace.

By and by, the second son came and told his mother that he was going to get married. The mother set the same conditions, and the bride accepted them just as graciously.

Then the third son came and said he too must take a wife. To him the old woman made the same terms; but he could not find a wife who would submit to them for his sake. The girl he wanted to marry, however, was very lively and spirited, and she said at last—

Then the third son came and said he also wanted to get married. The old woman offered him the same conditions, but he couldn’t find a wife willing to accept them for him. The girl he wanted to marry, however, was very lively and spirited, and she finally said—

‘Never mind the conditions; let’s marry, and we’ll get through the future somehow.’

‘Forget about the conditions; let’s get married, and we’ll figure out the future together.’

Then they married. When her son brought home this wife, and the old woman found she had no dowry, she was in a great fury; but it was too late to help it.

Then they got married. When her son brought this wife home, and the old woman discovered she had no dowry, she was extremely angry; but it was too late to do anything about it.

The first morning, when she knocked at their door to wake her, she called out—

The first morning, when she knocked on their door to wake her, she called out—

‘Who’s there?’ though she knew well enough.

‘Who’s there?’ even though she knew perfectly well.

The mother-in-law answered, ‘Time to get up!’

The mother-in-law replied, "It's time to get up!"

‘Oibo!’ exclaimed the young wife. ‘Don’t imagine [387]I’m going to get up in the middle of the night like this! I shall get up when I please, and not before.’ Then she turned to her husband, and said, ‘Just for her bothering me like this I shan’t get up till twelve o’clock.’ Neither did she.

Wow! the young wife exclaimed. ‘Don’t think [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] I’m going to get up in the middle of the night like this! I’ll get up when I want, and not a minute sooner.’ Then she turned to her husband and said, ‘Just because she’s bothering me like this, I won’t get up until noon.’ And she didn’t.

The house was now filled with the old woman’s lamentations. ‘This woman upsets everything! This woman will be the ruin of us all!’ she kept exclaiming. But the third wife paid no heed, and dressed herself up smart, and amused herself, and did no work at all.

The house was now filled with the old woman’s cries of distress. ‘This woman ruins everything! She’s going to be the downfall of us all!’ she kept shouting. But the third wife ignored her, dressed elegantly, entertained herself, and didn’t do any work at all.

When supper-time came the old woman took out her apple and her halfpenny loaf, and cut them in four quarters, serving a bit all round.

When dinner time came, the old woman took out her apple and her halfpenny loaf, cut them into four pieces, and served a piece to everyone.

‘What’s that?’ said the third wife, stooping to look at it, as if she could not make it out, and without taking it in her hand.

‘What’s that?’ asked the third wife, bending down to look at it, as if she couldn’t figure it out, and without picking it up.

‘It’s your supper,’ replied the mother-in-law.

‘It’s your dinner,’ replied the mother-in-law.

‘My supper! do you think I’ve come to my second childhood, to be helped to driblets like that!’ and she filliped it to the other end of the room.

‘My dinner! Do you really think I’ve reverted to my second childhood to be served little bits like that!’ and she flicked it to the other end of the room.

Then she went to her husband and said—

Then she went to her husband and said—

‘I’ll tell you what we must do; we must have false keys made, and get into the store-closet3 and take what we want.’

‘I’ll tell you what we need to do; we need to get some fake keys made, sneak into the store closet3 and take what we want.’

Though the mother-in-law was so miserly, there was good provision of everything in the store-closet; and so with the false keys she took flour and lard and ham, and they had plenty of everything. One day she had made a delicious cake of curdled sheep’s milk,4 and she gave a woman a halfpenny to take it to the baker’s to bake, saying—

Though the mother-in-law was very stingy, the store cupboard was well-stocked with everything; so with the fake keys, she took flour, lard, and ham, and they had more than enough of everything. One day, she made a delicious cake using curdled sheep’s milk, 4, and she paid a woman a halfpenny to take it to the bakery to be baked, saying—

‘Make haste, and bring it back, that we may get through eating it while the old woman is at mass.’

‘Hurry up and bring it back so we can finish eating before the old woman gets back from mass.’

She was not quick enough, however, and the mother-in-law came in just about the same time that the cake came back from the baker’s. The third son’s wife to hide [388]it from her caught it up and put it under her petticoats, but it burned her ankles, so that she was obliged to bring it out. Then the mother-in-law understood what had been going on, and went into such a fury, the house could not hold her.

She wasn't fast enough, though, and the mother-in-law walked in just as the cake returned from the bakery. The third son’s wife tried to hide it from her by grabbing it and putting it under her skirts, but it burned her ankles, forcing her to take it back out. Then the mother-in-law realized what was happening and got so angry that she could barely stay in the house.

Then the third son’s wife sent the same woman to the chemist, saying, ‘get me three pauls of quicksilver.’ And she took the quicksilver, when the mother-in-law was asleep, and put it into her mouth and ears, so that she could not storm or scold any more. But after a time she died of vexation; and then they opened wide the store-room, and lived very comfortably.

Then the third son's wife sent the same woman to the pharmacy, saying, "Get me three pauls of mercury." She took the mercury, and when the mother-in-law was asleep, she put it in her mouth and ears so that she couldn't scream or yell anymore. But after a while, she died of frustration; then they opened up the storeroom and lived very comfortably.

[Here may follow a couple of stories of mixed folly and craft.]

[Here may follow a couple of stories of mixed foolishness and skill.]

1 ‘La Vecchia Avara.’ This story was told in emulation of the last, otherwise it is hardly worth reproducing. The only merit of the story consisted in the liveliness of the pantomime with which the words of the third wife were rendered. To the poor, however, such a story is a treasure, as it tells of the condign punishment of an oppressor; and there are few of them who have not some experience of what it is to be trampled on. ↑

1 ‘The Old Miser.’ This story was told in the spirit of the last one; otherwise, it wouldn’t be worth sharing. The only real value of the story lies in the lively expression with which the words of the third wife were delivered. For the poor, though, this story is a gem, as it describes the fitting punishment of an oppressor; and there are few who haven't experienced what it's like to be stepped on. ↑

2 According to the local custom prevailing among all classes, of married sons and daughters continuing to live in the same house with their parents. ↑

2 According to the local custom accepted by everyone, married sons and daughters continue to live in the same house with their parents. ↑

3 ‘Dispensa,’ store-room. ↑

3 'Storage room,' store-room. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4 ‘Pizza,’ a cake; ‘ricotta,’ curds of sheep’s milk. ↑

4 ‘Pizza,’ a type of cake; ‘ricotta,’ curds made from sheep’s milk. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE BEGGAR AND THE CHICK-PEA.1

There was once a poor man who went about from door to door begging his bread. He came to the cottage of a poor peasant and said: ‘Give me something, for the love of God.’

There was once a poor man who went from door to door asking for food. He reached the cottage of a poor farmer and said, "Please give me something for the love of God."

The peasant’s wife said, ‘Good man, go away; I have nothing.’

The peasant's wife said, 'Kind sir, please leave; I have nothing.'

But the poor man said, ‘Leave me out something against I come again.’

But the poor man said, ‘Save me something for when I come back.’

The peasant’s wife answered, ‘The most I can give you is a single chick-pea.’2 [389]

The peasant’s wife replied, ‘The most I can give you is one chickpea.’2 [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Very well; that will do,’ replied the poor man; ‘only mind the hen doesn’t eat it.’

‘Alright; that works,’ replied the poor man; ‘just make sure the hen doesn’t eat it.’

The peasant’s wife was as good as her word, and put out a chick-pea on the dresser against the beggar came by next time. While her back was turned, however, the hen came in and gobbled it up. Presently after the beggar came by.

The peasant’s wife kept her promise and left a chickpea on the dresser for the beggar the next time he passed by. However, while she was turned away, the hen came in and ate it. Soon after, the beggar arrived.

‘Where’s the chick-pea you promised me?’ he asked.

‘Where’s the chickpea you promised me?’ he asked.

‘Ah! I put it out for you, but the hen gobbled it up!’

‘Ah! I set it out for you, but the hen snatched it up!’

At this he assumed an air of terrible authority, and said: ‘Did I not tell you to beware lest the hen should eat it? Now, you must give me either the pea or the hen!’

At this, he took on a look of serious authority and said, “Didn’t I warn you to watch out for the hen eating it? Now, you have to give me either the pea or the hen!”

As it was impossible for the peasant’s wife now to give him the pea, she was obliged to give him the hen.

As the peasant’s wife couldn't give him the pea now, she had to give him the hen instead.

The beggar, therefore, took the hen, and went to another cottage.

The beggar then took the hen and went to another cottage.

‘Good woman,’ he said to the peasant’s wife; ‘can you be so good as to take care of this hen for me?’

‘Good woman,’ he said to the peasant’s wife, ‘could you please take care of this hen for me?’

‘Willingly enough!’ said the peasant’s wife.

‘Of course!’ said the peasant’s wife.

‘Here it is then,’ said the beggar; ‘but mind the pig doesn’t get it.’

‘Here it is then,’ said the beggar; ‘but make sure the pig doesn’t get it.’

‘Never fear!’ said the peasant’s wife; and the poor man went his way.

‘Don’t worry!’ said the peasant’s wife; and the poor man went on his way.

Next day the beggar came back and claimed his hen.

The next day, the beggar returned and asked for his hen.

‘Oh, dear me!’ said the peasant’s wife, ‘while my back was turned, the pig gobbled it up!’

‘Oh, dear me!’ said the peasant’s wife, ‘while my back was turned, the pig ate it all up!’

Assuming an air of terrible authority, the man said: ‘Didn’t I warn you to beware lest the pig gobbled it up? Now, you must give me either the hen or the pig.’

Assuming a commanding presence, the man said: ‘Didn’t I warn you to watch out so the pig didn’t eat it? Now, you have to give me either the hen or the pig.’

As the peasant’s wife couldn’t give him the hen, she was obliged to give him the pig. So the poor man took the pig and went his way.

As the peasant's wife couldn't give him the hen, she had to give him the pig instead. So the poor man took the pig and went on his way.

He came now to another cottage, and said to the peasant’s wife: ‘Good woman, can you take care of this pig a little space for me?’ [390]

He arrived at another cottage and asked the peasant's wife, "Hey there, could you look after this pig for me for a bit?" [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Willingly!’ said the peasant’s wife; ‘put him in the yard.’

‘Sure!’ said the peasant’s wife; ‘put him in the yard.’

‘Mind the calf doesn’t get at him,’ said the man.

‘Make sure the calf doesn’t get to him,’ said the man.

‘Never fear,’ said the peasant’s wife, and the beggar went his way.

‘Don’t worry,’ said the peasant’s wife, and the beggar went on his way.

The next day he came back and claimed his pig.

The next day he returned and picked up his pig.

‘Oh, dear!’ answered the peasant’s wife; ‘while I wasn’t looking, the calf got at the pig, and seized it by the throat, and killed it, and trampled it all to pieces.’

‘Oh no!’ replied the peasant’s wife; ‘while I wasn’t paying attention, the calf attacked the pig, grabbed it by the throat, killed it, and trampled it all to bits.’

Assuming an air of terrible authority, the beggar said: ‘Did I not warn you to beware lest the calf got at it? Now you must give me the pig or the calf.’

Assuming a stance of intense authority, the beggar said: ‘Did I not warn you to be careful so the calf wouldn’t get to it? Now you have to give me the pig or the calf.’

As the poor woman could not give him the pig, she was forced to give him the calf. The beggar took the calf and went away.

As the poor woman couldn't give him the pig, she had to give him the calf instead. The beggar took the calf and walked away.

He went on to another cottage, and said to the peasant’s wife: ‘Good woman, can you take care of this calf for me?’

He went to another cottage and said to the peasant’s wife, “Hey there, can you take care of this calf for me?”

‘Willingly!’ said the peasant’s wife; ‘put it in the yard.’

‘Of course!’ said the peasant’s wife; ‘put it in the yard.’

The poor man put the calf in the yard; but he said: ‘I see you have a sick daughter there in bed; mind she doesn’t desire the calf.’

The poor man put the calf in the yard, but he said, “I see you have a sick daughter in bed; make sure she doesn’t want the calf.”

‘Never fear!’ said the peasant’s wife; and the man went his way.

‘Don’t worry!’ said the peasant’s wife; and the man went on his way.

He was no sooner gone, however, than the sick daughter arose, and saying, ‘Little heart! little heart!3 I must have you,’ she went down into the yard and killed the calf, and took out its heart and ate it.

He had barely left when the sick daughter got up and said, ‘Little heart! little heart!3 I need you,’ then she went out to the yard, killed the calf, took out its heart, and ate it.

The next day the beggar man came back and claimed the calf.

The next day, the beggar returned and claimed the calf.

‘Oh, dear!’ said the peasant’s wife, ‘while I wasn’t looking, my sick daughter got up and killed the calf, and ate its heart.’

‘Oh no!’ said the peasant’s wife, ‘while I wasn’t paying attention, my sick daughter got up and killed the calf, and ate its heart.’

Assuming an air of terrible authority, the beggar said: ‘Did not I warn you not to let the sick daughter get at [391]the calf? Now, either calf or maiden I must have; make haste with your choice; calf or maiden, one or the other!’4

Assuming an air of great authority, the beggar said: ‘Didn't I warn you not to let the sick daughter get to the calf? Now, you need to choose quickly; I must have either the calf or the maiden; it’s one or the other!’4

But the poor woman could not get back the calf, seeing it was dead, and she was resolved not to give up her daughter. So she said: ‘I can’t give you the calf, because it is dead. So I must give you my daughter, only if I went to take her now while she’s awake, she would make such a fuss you would never get her along; so leave me your sack, that while she’s asleep I may put her in it, and then when you come back you can have her.’

But the poor woman couldn’t get back the calf since it was dead, and she was determined not to give up her daughter. So she said, “I can’t give you the calf because it’s dead. I can only give you my daughter, but if I go to get her now while she’s awake, she’ll cause such a scene that you’ll never be able to take her. So, leave me your sack, so I can put her in it while she’s asleep, and then when you come back, you can have her.”

So the beggar left his sack and went away. As soon as he was gone the peasant’s wife took the sack and put some stones at the bottom, to make it heavy, and thrust in a ferocious mad dog; then having made fast the mouth of the sack, she stood it up against the wall.

So the beggar left his bag and walked away. As soon as he was gone, the peasant's wife took the bag, put some stones at the bottom to weigh it down, and shoved in a fierce, rabid dog; then, after sealing the opening of the bag, she stood it up against the wall.

Next day the beggar came back and asked for his sack.

Next day, the beggar returned and asked for his bag.

‘There it is against the wall,’ said the peasant’s wife.

‘There it is against the wall,’ said the farmer’s wife.

So the beggar put it on his shoulder and went away.

So the beggar threw it over his shoulder and walked away.

As soon as he got home, he opened the sack to take out the maiden; but the ferocious mad dog rushed out upon him and killed him. [392]

As soon as he got home, he opened the bag to take out the girl; but the vicious wild dog charged at him and killed him. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Il Poverello del Cece.’ The termination of the word ‘Poverello’ is one of those which determine the sentiment of the speaker in a way it is impossible to put into English. We use ‘poor’ (e.g. joined to the name of a deceased friend) to express sympathy and endearment; if we put ‘poor’ in this sense before the expression ‘povero,’ ‘a poor man,’ ‘poverello,’ ‘a poor poor man,’ we have the nearest rendering. Dante calls St. Francis, apostle of voluntary poverty, ‘Quel poverel’ di Dio.’ It is the common expression in Rome for a beggar. The ‘Poverello’ in this story, however, was not one that merited much compassion. ↑

1 ‘The Poor Man of Cece.’ The end of the word ‘Poverello’ conveys a sentiment from the speaker that is tough to translate into English. We use ‘poor’ (e.g. paired with the name of someone who has passed away) to show sympathy and fondness; if we say ‘poor’ in that sense before the phrase ‘povero,’ ‘a poor man,’ ‘poverello,’ ‘a poor poor man,’ we get the closest translation. Dante refers to St. Francis, the apostle of voluntary poverty, as ‘Quel poverel’ di Dio.’ It’s a common term in Rome for a beggar. However, the ‘Poverello’ in this story didn’t inspire much compassion. ↑

2 ‘Cece,’ vetch, produces a very large pea in the south of Europe, and provides a staple article of food much liked among the lower orders. In Italy it is mostly eaten plain boiled, often cold, or else in soup and stews. All day long men go about the streets in Rome selling them (plain boiled) in wooden pails. Boys buy a handful as they would cherries, and eat them as they go along. In Spain, where it bears the name of ‘garbanzo,’ the favourite mode of cooking it is stewed in oil, with a large quantity of red pepper. ↑

2 ‘Cece,’ or vetch, produces a very large pea in southern Europe and is a staple food that many lower-income people enjoy. In Italy, it’s usually served boiled, often cold, or in soups and stews. Throughout the day, vendors walk the streets of Rome selling them (plain boiled) in wooden buckets. Boys buy a handful just like they would with cherries and munch on them as they walk. In Spain, where it’s called ‘garbanzo,’ the preferred way to cook it is by stewing it in oil with plenty of red pepper. ↑

3 ‘Coratella,’ nice little heart. ↑

3 ‘Coratella,’ sweet little heart. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4

4

‘O la vitella,

‘Oh the calf,

O la zitella.’

Oh, the spinster.

‘Vitella,’ a calf; ‘zitella,’ an unmarried person. ↑

‘Vitella,’ a calf; ‘zitella,’ an unmarried person. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

DOCTOR GRILLO.

Doctor Grillo was a physician who had made himself a great name throughout his whole country, so that he was sent for and consulted from far and wide, and everybody looked up to him as a very wise man, whose word was final on any question of medicine. The discovery that ‘no man is a hero to his valet’ was made long before the idea so found expression in the seventeenth century; Doctor Grillo had a man-servant who chose to entertain a very different notion of his merits and powers from that of the rest of the world; and in time, from undervaluing his attainments, he came to conceive the belief that he could himself do just as well as his master.

Doctor Grillo was a physician who had built a great reputation throughout the country, so he was sought after and consulted from near and far, and everyone regarded him as a very wise man, whose opinion was final on any medical question. The saying that ‘no man is a hero to his valet’ came about long before it was expressed in the seventeenth century; Doctor Grillo had a servant who held a very different view of his abilities and skills compared to the rest of the world; eventually, by underestimating his accomplishments, he came to believe that he could perform just as well as his master.

One day, when the Doctor was out, this serving-man took into his head to roll up into a great bundle his doctor’s gown and cap,1 a number of prescriptions, and a quantity of bottles, and with these he stole away and betook himself to a far country, where he gave himself out for the famed Doctor Grillo.

One day, while the Doctor was out, the servant decided to roll up his doctor's gown and cap, a bunch of prescriptions, and several bottles into a big bundle. With that, he sneaked away to another country, claiming to be the famous Doctor Grillo.

Just at the time he arrived, the queen of the country was in great suffering, nor could any native professor of medicine succeed in benefiting her. Naturally the services of the great Doctor Grillo were put in request in her behalf, as soon as his cunning servant had given himself out as the owner of his world-wide reputation, and fortune favoured him in his two earliest attempts. Suffice it to say, he succeeded in satisfying her requirements by a kind of luck and from that day forward his fortune was made, justifying the Italian saying, ‘An ounce of good fortune furthers one more than a pound of knowledge.’2 Everywhere he was now called in, and though he prescribed his remedies all higgledypiggledy, without science or experience, not more of his patients died than those of other mediciners. The people were, therefore, quite satisfied [393]that when Doctor Grillo had prescribed the best had been done that human skill could afford.

Just as he arrived, the queen of the country was in severe pain, and no local doctors could help her. Naturally, the great Doctor Grillo was called in as soon as his clever servant bragged about his worldwide reputation, and luck was on his side during his first two attempts. It’s enough to say that he managed to meet her needs partly by chance, and from that day on, his fortune was secured, proving the Italian saying, “A bit of good luck helps more than a lot of knowledge.” 2 He was now summoned everywhere, and although he mixed up his remedies without any real expertise or experience, no more of his patients died than those of other doctors. The people were, therefore, quite convinced that when Doctor Grillo had prescribed, the best possible human effort had been made. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

By-and-by it came to the ears of the real Doctor Grillo that a quack and impostor was wearing his laurels; nor did he sooner hear the news than he set out to confront him.

By and by, it reached the ears of the real Doctor Grillo that a fraud and impostor was claiming his accolades; as soon as he heard the news, he set out to confront him.

‘Beware good people! What are you doing?’ was his say. ‘This man knows no more of medicine than one of yourselves; you will all die if you trust to him. He is no Doctor Grillo. I am Doctor Grillo.’

‘Beware, good people! What are you doing?’ was his say. ‘This man knows no more about medicine than any of you; you will all die if you trust him. He is not Doctor Grillo. I am Doctor Grillo.’

But all the people laughed in his face, filled as they were with the prepossession of their first impressions, and they began to drive him out of their midst; but he protested so loudly, ‘I am Doctor Grillo,’ that a wiseacre3 in the crowd thought to win for himself a reputation for discernment by insisting that he should have a trial.

But everyone laughed in his face, convinced by their first impressions, and they started to push him away; but he protested so loudly, "I am Doctor Grillo," that a know-it-all in the crowd thought he could gain some credibility by insisting that he should get a chance to prove himself.

It happened that the daughter of the Chief Judge was at that time stricken with fever, and as he had observed in the language and manners of the new Doctor Grillo more traces of learning and refinement4 than in the first arrived of the name, he willingly agreed that the case should be submitted to him for treatment. His wife had, however, just before sent for the false Doctor Grillo, so that both arrived in the sick-room at the same moment; and loud and long was the dispute between husband wife, master and servant, as to which doctor should approach the patient. By the time the husband had carried his point, and the real physician entered upon his functions, the fever had got such hold of the sufferer that no medicine more availed, and the girl succumbed to the consequences of the delay in administering the most ordinary remedies.

It just so happened that the Chief Judge's daughter was suffering from a fever at that time. He had noticed that the new Doctor Grillo displayed more signs of education and sophistication than the first one who had arrived. Therefore, he was happy to let this doctor treat his daughter. However, his wife had just called for the fake Doctor Grillo, so both doctors arrived in the sick room at the same time. A loud and lengthy argument broke out between husband and wife, master and servant, over which doctor should see the patient first. By the time the husband finally got his way and the real physician started his examination, the fever had taken such a strong hold on the girl that no medicine was effective, and she ultimately succumbed to the effects of the delay in receiving even the simplest treatments.

Nevertheless, it was in the hands of the real Doctor Grillo that she had died. The one proof of his identity which had been granted had gone against him, and the popular mind was quite satisfied that it was he [394]was the impostor. As the pompous funeral of the Judge’s daughter brought all the circumstances to the minds of the people, the feeling against him gathered and grew; and when at last one more mischievous and malicious than the rest proposed that he should be driven out of the community, the idea met with such a ready response that he would certainly not have escaped with his life from the yells and stone-throwing5 of the infuriated populace, had not his retreat been protected by the more peaceably disposed citizens.

Nevertheless, it was in the hands of the real Doctor Grillo that she had died. The one piece of evidence proving his identity had worked against him, and the public was fully convinced he [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]was the impostor. As the extravagant funeral of the Judge’s daughter reminded everyone of the situation, the anger towards him built and intensified; and when finally someone more troublemaking and spiteful than the others suggested that he should be forced out of the community, the idea was met with such enthusiasm that he certainly wouldn't have survived the yells and stone-throwing 5 of the enraged crowd, if not for the protection of the more peacefully inclined citizens.

But the false Doctor Grillo remained thenceforward in undisturbed possession of the fame and fortune attaching to the name he had filched.

But the fake Doctor Grillo remained in undisturbed possession of the fame and fortune that came with the name he had stolen.

[This is probably a filtering of one of the many stories about Theophrastus Paracelsus. I think there was something very [396]like it in a little book of popular legends about him given me at Salzburg, but I have not got it at hand to refer to. Zingerle, ‘Sagen aus Tirol,’ p. 417, tells a story of his servant prying into the wise man’s penetralia, and getting a worse punishment for his pains than Gehazi.]

[This is probably a version of one of the many stories about Theophrastus Paracelsus. I think there was something very [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]similar in a small book of popular legends about him that someone gave me in Salzburg, but I don’t have it with me to refer to. Zingerle, ‘Tales from Tyrol,’ p. 417, tells a story of his servant snooping around the wise man’s private space and facing worse punishment for his troubles than Gehazi.]

1 ‘Berretta,’ (also written ‘biretta’) is used for any kind of cap worn by men or boys. It would appear that no kind of head-covering except a hood to the cloak, enabling the wearer to cover the head, or leave it bare at pleasure, was in common use in Italy before the sixteenth century, though the ‘berretta’ is mentioned in documents as part of ecclesiastical, particularly of the pontifical, dress, as early as the tenth century. The round ‘berretta’ coming to be commonly used by the people, their superiors adopted the quadrated form, which, with some modifications, is that still adopted by the Catholic clergy. Graduates and doctors were privileged to wear it, hence its use by Doctor Grillo; and though monks generally are not, some of those engaged in preaching and teaching have a special permission to do so. The Superior of the Theatine Convent of Naples alone, among all superiors of nuns, has the privilege of wearing the ‘berretta.’ Orsola Benincasa, the founder, was called to Rome that the Pope (Gregory XIII., 1576) might examine whether the reputation she had acquired for learning and piety was well founded. Not only was the Pope well satisfied with her, but St. Philip Neri also gave her many tokens of approval, and, among others, in his playful way, put his ‘berretta’ on her head. This honour has been commemorated by her successors retaining its use. ↑

1 ‘Berretta,’ (also spelled ‘biretta’) refers to any type of cap worn by men or boys. It seems that before the sixteenth century, the only common head covering in Italy, besides a hood attached to a cloak, which allowed the wearer to cover their head or leave it bare as they wished, was the ‘berretta.’ This cap is mentioned in documents as part of ecclesiastical, especially papal, attire as early as the tenth century. The round ‘berretta’ became widely used by the general public, prompting those in higher positions to adopt the squared version, which, with some variations, is still worn by Catholic clergy today. Graduates and doctors were allowed to wear it, which is why Doctor Grillo wore one; although monks generally aren’t permitted to, some involved in preaching or teaching have special permission to do so. The Superior of the Theatine Convent in Naples is the only superior of nuns allowed to wear the ‘berretta.’ Orsola Benincasa, the founder, was summoned to Rome so Pope Gregory XIII (1576) could assess whether her reputation for learning and piety was justified. The Pope was not only satisfied with her, but St. Philip Neri also showed her numerous signs of approval and, among other gestures, playfully placed his ‘berretta’ on her head. This honor has been commemorated by her successors, who continue to use it. ↑

2 ‘Vale più un oncia di fortuna che una libbra di sapere.’ ↑

2 'An ounce of luck is worth more than a pound of knowledge.' ↑

3 ‘Un saccentuzze.’ ↑

3 ‘A bold statement.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4 ‘Garbatezza.’ ↑

4 ‘Garbatezza.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

5 ‘Sassata,’ in Italian, has a more terrible significance than ‘stone-throwing,’ in English, conveys. The art of throwing and slinging stones with dexterity and accuracy of aim would seem to have been as favourite a pastime among the peasantry in Italy and Spain as archery among our own. For the purposes of the present volume, it needs only to allude to the Roman development of the practice. P. Bresciani, who has taken more pains than any writer of the present age in illustrating [395]the local customs of Rome, tells us the ‘sassate’ continued a favourite diversion of the youth of Rome almost down to our own day, and it was only by the most strenuous and vigorous measures that Cardinal Consalvi was enabled to put an end to it; being impelled thereto by the barbarous tone of feeling it engendered, and the frequent casualties resulting from it. The most idle and dissolute raggamuffins of the Monti and Trastevere quarters were among the most dexterous of marksmen. Whenever they aimed a throw, ‘fosse di fionda o fosse di soprammano’ (whether from a sling or from the hand) they were sure to hit the mark; so that any one of them might have written, like the Greek archer on his arrow, ‘for the right eye of Philip,’ on his ‘ciotto.’ (‘Ciotto’ is a stone such as would be used for throwing from a sling, and thus ‘ciottolo’ means equally a road made with rough stones and a ‘sassata.’ What is more to our present purpose is, that ‘ciotto’ means also ‘lame,’ suggesting how often persons may have been lamed by ‘sassate’). It is said that in the Balearic islands, it was the custom for mothers to tie the meals of their children to a branch of a tree, and none got anything to eat till he had hit the string with a stone, and thus they were trained to ‘fiondeggiare’ (to throw from a sling) perfectly. The Roman raggamuffins, instead of their food, used to have for their mark the features of donna Lucrezia and Marforio, and they ‘ciottolavanle’ (pelted them) with stones from far and near. At other times their aim would be directed against a tuft of herbage dangling down from the arches of the aqueducts of Nero or Claudius, nor would they rest from their aiming till they had rooted it out with their stones. Their highest ambition was to direct a stone right through one of the small window-openings in the loftiest range at the Coliseum. After such practice, we may well believe the stones fell true when they had a living adversary before them.

5 ‘Sassata’ in Italian has a more serious meaning than ‘stone-throwing’ in English. The skill of tossing and slinging stones with precision seems to have been as popular among the peasants in Italy and Spain as archery is in our own culture. For this volume, it suffices to mention the Roman evolution of the activity. P. Bresciani, who has put in more effort than any contemporary writer to illustrate [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]the local customs of Rome, tells us that ‘sassate’ remained a beloved pastime of Roman youth well into modern times, and it was only through hard and determined actions that Cardinal Consalvi was able to stop it, motivated by the violent attitude it fostered and the frequent injuries that resulted. The most lazy and unruly youth from the Monti and Trastevere neighborhoods were among the best marksmen. Whenever they threw, ‘slingshot pits or overhead pits’ (whether from a sling or by hand), they were sure to hit their target; any one of them could have inscribed, like the Greek archer on his arrow, ‘for the right eye of Philip’ on their ‘ciotto.’ (‘Ciotto’ refers to a stone that would be used for sling throwing, and thus ‘ciottolo’ means both a road made with rough stones and a ‘sassata.’ More importantly, ‘ciotto’ also means ‘lame,’ hinting at how often people might have been injured by ‘sassate’). In the Balearic Islands, it's said that mothers would tie their children's meals to a tree branch, and no one would get anything to eat until they hit the string with a stone, effectively training them to sling perfectly. The Roman street kids, instead of food, aimed at the faces of donna Lucrezia and Marforio, pelting them with stones from near and far. At other times, they would shoot at a tuft of grass hanging from the arches of the Nero or Claudius aqueducts, not resting until they had knocked it out with their stones. Their greatest ambition was to shoot a stone through one of the small windows in the highest part of the Coliseum. After such practice, we can easily believe their stones struck true when they had a living target in front of them.

‘And as it is the evil custom of the sons of Adam to strive one against the other, and for the excitement of contention every village loves to keep up warfare with its next neighbouring village, so the “Rioni” of Rome delighted in trials of skill one against the other. Thus on every holiday a hundred or two of Montegiani and Trasteverini were to be found arrayed against each other, and all arranged in due order of battle, with its skirmishers and reconnoitring parties, its van-guard and rear-guard. One side would take the Aventine for its base of operations, and another the Palatine....’ After describing very graphically the tactics in vogue, our author goes on to say, ‘The adults of both factions stood by the while and backed up the boys, and often the strife which had begun as boys’ pastime ended in serious maiming of grown up men. Hence, not a holiday passed but some mother had to mourn over a son brought home to her with a broken head or an eye knocked out; or some wife over a husband riddled (sforacchiato) with wounds....’ Hence it was that Cardinal Consalvi, as we have seen, put an end to such rough play. ↑

‘And since it’s the unfortunate nature of humanity to constantly compete with one another, and for the thrill of conflict, every village enjoys waging battles with its neighboring village, the “Rioni” of Rome took pleasure in contests of skill against each other. So, on every holiday, a hundred or so from Montegiani and Trasteverini would be found lined up against one another, all organized in proper battle formation, complete with skirmishers and scouting teams, as well as a vanguard and rear guard. One side would set up on the Aventine as its base of operations, while the other would take the Palatine....’ After vividly detailing the tactics in play, our author continues, ‘The adults from both groups would watch and support the boys, and often the contests that started as child’s play ended in severe injuries for grown men. Because of this, not a holiday went by without a mother mourning for a son brought home with a broken head or a missing eye; or a wife grieving for a husband covered in wounds....’ This is why Cardinal Consalvi, as we noted, put an end to such rough games. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

NINA.

There was a miller who got into difficulties, and could not pay his rent. The landlord sent to him a great many times to say that if he could not pay his rent he must go out; but as he paid no attention to the notice, the landlord went himself at last, and told him he must go. The miller pleaded that his difficulties were only temporary, and that if he would give him but a little time he would make it all straight. The landlord, however, was pitiless, and said he had waited long enough, and now he had come to put an end to it; adding, ‘Mind, this is my last word: If you do not go out to-night peaceably, I shall send some one to-morrow to turn you out by force.’

There was a miller who got into trouble and couldn’t pay his rent. The landlord reached out to him many times to say that if he couldn’t pay, he had to leave; but since the miller ignored those reminders, the landlord finally went to see him in person and told him he had to go. The miller argued that his troubles were only temporary and that if the landlord could give him just a little more time, he would sort everything out. However, the landlord was unyielding and said he had waited long enough, and now he was here to put a stop to it; adding, “This is my final word: If you don’t leave tonight peacefully, I’ll send someone tomorrow to force you out.”

As he turned to leave, after pronouncing this sentence, he met the miller’s daughter coming back from the stream where she had been washing. ‘Who is this buxom lass?’ inquired the landlord.

As he turned to leave after saying this, he ran into the miller's daughter coming back from the stream where she had been washing. "Who is this attractive girl?" asked the landlord.

‘That is my daughter Nina,’ answered the miller.

‘That is my daughter Nina,’ replied the miller.

‘A fine girl she is too,’ replied the landlord. ‘And I tell you what, miller, listen to me; give Nina to me, and I will not only forgive you the debt, but will make over the mill and the homestead to you, to be your own property for ever.’

‘She’s a really great girl,’ replied the landlord. ‘And let me tell you something, miller, listen to me; give Nina to me, and I won’t just forgive you the debt, but I’ll also transfer the mill and the homestead to you, so they’ll be your own property forever.’

‘Give me a proper document to that effect, duly signed by your own hand,’ replied the miller, with a twinkle in his eye, ‘and I will give you “Nina.”’

‘Give me a proper document to that effect, signed by you,’ replied the miller, with a twinkle in his eye, ‘and I will give you “Nina.”’

The landlord went back into the house, and taking two sheets of paper drew up first a formal quittance of [397]the back rent, and then a conveyance of the mill and homestead absolutely to the miller and to his heirs for ever. These he handed to the miller; and then he said, ‘To-night, an hour before sundown, I will send for “Nina.”’

The landlord went back inside the house and wrote up two documents: first, a formal receipt for the back rent, and then a deed transferring the mill and homestead fully to the miller and his heirs forever. He handed these to the miller and said, "Tonight, an hour before sunset, I will send for 'Nina.'"

‘All right,’ said the miller; ‘you shall have “Nina,”’ and so they parted.

‘Okay,’ said the miller; ‘you can have “Nina,”’ and then they went their separate ways.

‘An hour before sundown a servant came with a carriage to fetch “Nina”’

‘About an hour before sunset, a servant arrived with a carriage to pick up “Nina.”’

‘Where’s “Nina”?’ said the servant. ‘Master has sent me to fetch “Nina.”’

‘Where’s “Nina”?’ asked the servant. ‘The master sent me to get “Nina.”’

‘In the stable—take her!’ answered the miller.

‘In the stable—take her!’ replied the miller.

In the stable was nothing to be seen but a very lean old donkey.

In the stable, there was nothing to see except a very skinny old donkey.

‘There’s nothing here but an old donkey,’ exclaimed the servant.

‘There’s nothing here but an old donkey,’ said the servant.

‘All right, that’s “Nina,” so take her,’ replied the miller.

‘All right, that’s “Nina,” so take her,’ said the miller.

‘But this can’t be what master meant me to fetch!’ expostulated the servant.

‘But this can’t be what the master wanted me to bring!’ protested the servant.

‘What have you got to say to it?’ replied the miller. ‘Your master told you to fetch “Nina;” we always call our donkey “Nina;” so take her, and be off.’

‘What do you have to say about it?’ replied the miller. ‘Your boss told you to get “Nina;” we always call our donkey “Nina;” so take her and go.’

The servant saw there was nothing to be gained by disputing, so he took the donkey and went home. When he got back, his master had got company with him, so he did not know what to say about the donkey. But his master seeing he was come back, took it for granted the business was done; and calling him to him privately said, ‘Take “Nina” upstairs into the best bedroom and light a fire, and give her some supper.’

The servant realized that arguing wouldn’t get him anywhere, so he took the donkey and went home. When he arrived, his master had guests, so he wasn’t sure how to explain the donkey. However, his master saw he had returned and assumed everything was settled. He called the servant over privately and said, ‘Take “Nina” upstairs to the best bedroom, light a fire, and prepare her some dinner.’

‘Take her1 upstairs into the best bedroom!’ exclaimed the man.

‘Take her1 upstairs into the best bedroom!’ the man exclaimed.

‘Yes! do what you’re told, and don’t repeat my words.’

‘Yes! Follow instructions, and don’t repeat what I say.’

The servant could not venture to say any more; so he took the donkey up into the best bedroom, and lit a fire, [398]and put some supper there. As soon as his company was gone, the master called the servant—

The servant didn’t dare to say anything else, so he took the donkey up to the best bedroom, lit a fire, [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] and put some dinner there. Once his guests had left, the master called the servant—

‘Is “Nina” upstairs?’ asked he.

“Is ‘Nina’ up there?” he asked.

‘Si, Signore; she’s lying before the fire,’ answered the servant.

‘Yes, Sir; she’s lying in front of the fire,’ answered the servant.

‘Did you take some supper up? I’ll have my supper up there with “Nina.”’

‘Did you bring some dinner up? I’ll have my dinner up there with “Nina.”’

‘Si, Signore,’ replied the servant, and he turned away to laugh, for he thought his master had gone mad.

‘Yes, Sir,’ replied the servant, and he turned away to laugh, thinking his master had lost his mind.

The landlord went upstairs; but it had now grown dark, so he groped his way to the fireplace, and there sure enough was ‘Nina,’ the donkey, lying down, and as he stroked her he said, ‘What fine soft hair you’ve got, Nina!’

The landlord went upstairs; but it had now gotten dark, so he felt his way to the fireplace, and sure enough, there was ‘Nina,’ the donkey, lying down. As he petted her, he said, ‘You have such soft, nice hair, Nina!’

Presently the servant brought the lights; and when he saw the dirty old worn-out donkey, and understood what a trick the miller had played off on him, it may be imagined how furious he was.

Currently, the servant brought in the lights; and when he saw the dirty, old, worn-out donkey and realized the trick the miller had pulled on him, you can imagine how furious he was.

The next day, as soon as the courts were opened, he went before the judge, and told all the tale. Then the miller came too, and told his; but the judge examined the documents, and pronounced that the miller was in the right; for his part of the contract was that he was to deliver over ‘Nina,’ and he had delivered over ‘Nina.’ There was no evidence that any other ‘Nina’ was intended but ‘Nina’ the donkey, and so the miller remained in undisputed possession of the mill.

The next day, as soon as the courts opened, he went before the judge and shared his story. Then the miller showed up and shared his side, but the judge reviewed the documents and declared that the miller was right; his part of the contract was to deliver 'Nina,' and he had delivered 'Nina.' There was no proof that any other 'Nina' was meant other than 'Nina' the donkey, so the miller kept full ownership of the mill.

And that is the truth, for it actually happened as I have told you. [399]

And that’s the truth because it really happened just like I told you. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Quella,’ in the original, lends itself better to the purposed misunderstanding of the story, meaning ‘that one,’ ‘such an one as that!’ in the feminine gender; and the master would think the servant said it in contempt because he spoke of a miller’s daughter. ↑

1 ‘Quella,’ in the original, works better for the intended misunderstanding of the story, meaning ‘that one,’ ‘like that one!’ in the feminine form; and the master would assume the servant used it in a contemptuous way because he was referring to a miller's daughter. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE GOOD GRACE OF THE HUNCHBACK.1

A mother and daughter lived alone in a cottage. The mother was old and came to die; the daughter was turned out of house and home.2 An ugly hunchback, who was a tailor, came by and said—

A mother and daughter lived alone in a cottage. The mother was old and nearing the end of her life; the daughter had been kicked out of her home. 2 An unattractive hunchback, who was a tailor, passed by and said—

‘What is your name, my pretty girl?’

‘What's your name, my pretty girl?’

‘They call me la Buona Grazia,’3 answered the girl.

‘They call me la Buona Grazia,’ 3 replied the girl.

‘Well, la Buona Grazia, I’ve got twenty scudi a month, will you come with me and be my wife?’

‘Well, la Buona Grazia, I’m making twenty scudi a month. Will you come with me and be my wife?’

The girl was starving, and didn’t know where to set her foot, so she thought she could not afford to refuse; but she went along with a very bad grace, for she did not feel at all happy at the idea of marrying the ugly old hunchback.

The girl was starving and didn’t know where to step, so she felt like she couldn’t afford to say no; but she went along with a really bad attitude, because she didn’t feel happy at all about the idea of marrying the ugly old hunchback.

When the hunchback saw how unhappy she was, he thought, ‘This will never do. She’s too young and too pretty to care for me. I must keep her locked up, and then when she sees no one else at all, she will at last be glad even of my company.’ So he went all the errands himself, and never let her go out except to Mass, and then he took her to the church, and watched her all the time, and brought her back himself. The windows he whitened all over, so that she couldn’t see out into the street, and there he kept her with the door locked on her, and she was very miserable.

When the hunchback noticed how unhappy she was, he thought, ‘This can’t go on. She’s too young and too beautiful to want me. I need to keep her locked away, and maybe when she doesn’t see anyone else, she’ll eventually appreciate my company.’ So he ran all the errands himself and never let her go outside except for Mass. Even then, he took her to church, watched her the whole time, and brought her back himself. He covered the windows completely so she couldn’t see out onto the street, and he kept her there with the door locked, leaving her very unhappy.

So it went on for three years. But there was a dirty little window of a lumber room which, as it only gave a look out on to the court,4 he had not whitened. As she happened to look out here one day a stranger stood leaning on the balcony of the court, for part of the house was an inn, and he had just arrived.

So it went on for three years. But there was a grimy little window in the lumber room that he hadn't painted because it only looked out onto the courtyard.4 One day, as she happened to look out, she saw a stranger leaning on the balcony of the courtyard, since part of the house was an inn, and he had just arrived.

‘What are you looking for, my pretty girl?’ said the stranger.

‘What are you looking for, my pretty girl?’ said the stranger.

‘O! nothing particular; only I’m locked up here, and I just looked out for a change.’ [400]

‘Oh! nothing special; just that I’m stuck here, and I was hoping for a change.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Locked up! who has locked you up?’ asked the stranger.

‘Locked up! Who locked you up?’ asked the stranger.

‘An old hunchback, who’s going to marry me,’ said the girl, almost crying.

‘An old hunchback who’s going to marry me,’ said the girl, almost in tears.

‘You don’t seem much pleased at the idea of being married,’ answered the stranger.

‘You don’t seem very happy about the idea of getting married,’ replied the stranger.

‘It is not likely that I should, to such a husband!’ returned the girl.

‘It’s not likely that I would, to such a husband!’ the girl replied.

‘Would you like to get away from him?’ asked the stranger.

‘Do you want to get away from him?’ asked the stranger.

‘Shouldn’t I!’ heartily exclaimed the girl; ‘but it’s impossible to manage that, as I’m locked in,’ she added sorrowfully.

‘Shouldn’t I!’ the girl exclaimed enthusiastically; ‘but it’s impossible to do that since I’m locked in,’ she added sadly.

‘It’s not so difficult as you think,’ rejoined the stranger. ‘Most likely there’s some picture or other on your wall.’

‘It’s not as hard as you think,’ the stranger replied. ‘Most likely there’s some kind of picture on your wall.’

‘Oh, yes! a great big one with the fair Giuditta just ready with her pouch5 to put Lofferno’s head in,’ answered the girl.

‘Oh, yes! a huge one with the beautiful Giuditta just ready with her pouch5 to put Lofferno’s head in,’ answered the girl.

‘All right. You make a big hole behind the picture on your side, and when I hear by the sound where you are, I’ll make one on mine. And when our two holes meet, you can come through.’

‘Okay. You dig a big hole behind the picture on your side, and when I hear where you are by the sound, I’ll dig one on my side. And when our two holes connect, you can come through.’

‘Yes, that’s a capital plan; but the hunchback will soon come after me.’

'Yes, that’s a great plan; but the hunchback will be coming after me soon.'

‘Never mind, I will see to that; let’s make the hole first?’

'Never mind, I’ll take care of that; let’s make the hole first?'

‘Very well, I rely upon you, and will set to work immediately.’

‘Alright, I trust you, and I’ll get started right away.’

‘Tell me first how I am to call you?’

‘Tell me first what I should call you?’

‘They always call me Buona Grazia.’

‘They always call me Good Grace.’

‘A very nice name. Good-bye, and we’ll set to work.’

‘A really nice name. Goodbye, and we’ll get to work.’

La Buona Grazia ran and unhooked the picture, and set to work to make a hole with all the available tools she could find; and the stranger, as soon as he had ascertained by the noise where she was at work, set to also. It turned out to be only a partition,6 and not a regular wall, and the hole was soon cut. [401]

La Buona Grazia ran and unhooked the picture, then got to work making a hole with all the tools she could find. The stranger, after figuring out where she was working by the noise, joined in as well. It turned out to be just a partition, not a solid wall, and the hole was cut quickly. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘What fun!’ said the girl, as she jumped through. ‘Oh, how nice to be free! But,’ she added, ‘I can’t travel with you in these poor clothes.’

‘This is so much fun!’ said the girl as she jumped through. ‘Oh, it feels so nice to be free! But,’ she added, ‘I can’t travel with you in these shabby clothes.’

‘No,’ said the stranger. ‘I’ll have a travelling dress made for you, by the hunchback himself.’

‘No,’ said the stranger. ‘I’ll get a travel outfit made for you, by the hunchback himself.’

‘Oh, take care!’ cried the girl, earnestly.

‘Oh, be careful!’ the girl exclaimed, sincerely.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ answered the stranger; ‘and above all don’t look frightened.’

‘Don’t be scared,’ replied the stranger; ‘and most importantly, don’t act scared.’

Then he sent his servant to call the hunchback, and when he came he said—

Then he sent his servant to call the hunchback, and when he arrived, he said—

‘I want a travelling dress made directly for my wife here, so please take her measure.’

‘I want a travel dress made specifically for my wife here, so please take her measurements.’

The hunchback started when he saw who it was he had to measure.

The hunchback jumped when he saw who he had to measure.

‘Why, she’s exactly like my Buona Grazia!’ exclaimed he.

"Wow, she's just like my Buona Grazia!" he exclaimed.

‘Very likely. I have always observed there was a sort of likeness between the inhabitants of a town. She too is a Roman, though I am a stranger. But make haste and take the measure, I didn’t call you here to make remarks.’

‘Most likely. I've always noticed a similarity among the people in a town. She’s also a Roman, even though I’m an outsider. But hurry up and take the measurements; I didn't bring you here to make comments.’

The hunchback got frightened at the stranger’s authoritative tone, and took the measure without saying any more; and the stranger then gave him something to go and have a breakfast at the caffé to give the girl time to get back and set the picture in its place again.

The hunchback was startled by the stranger’s commanding tone and measured up without saying anything else; the stranger then gave him some money to grab breakfast at the caffé to buy the girl some time to return and put the picture back in its place.

When he came up into the room all looked right, and nothing seemed to have been moved.

When he walked into the room, everything looked fine, and nothing appeared to have been moved.

‘I’ve got to work hard to-day,’ said the hunchback, ‘to get a travelling dress ready for the wife of a gentleman staying in the inn, who is exactly like you.’

‘I have to work hard today,’ said the hunchback, ‘to get a travel dress ready for the wife of a gentleman staying at the inn, who looks exactly like you.’

‘Are they going to travel, then?’ asked la Buona Grazia.

'So, are they going to travel?' asked la Buona Grazia.

‘Yes, the gentleman said they should start as soon as the dress is done.’

‘Yes, the guy said they should start as soon as the dress is ready.’

‘Oh, do let me see them drive off!’ said la Buona Grazia, coaxingly. ‘I should so like to see a lady who looked like me wearing a dress you had made.’ [402]

‘Oh, please let me watch them leave!’ said la Buona Grazia, sweetly. ‘I would really love to see a lady who looked like me in a dress you made.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘Nonsense, nonsense!’ said the hunchback; ‘get on with your work.’

‘That’s ridiculous, ridiculous!’ said the hunchback; ‘get back to your work.’

And she did get on with her work, and stitched away, for she was anxious enough to help him to get the dress done; but she went on teazing him all the while to let her go to the window to see the gentleman and the lady, ‘who looked so like her,’ drive off, that at last the hunchback consented for that only day to take the whiting off the windows and let her look out.

And she continued with her work, stitching away, because she was eager to help him finish the dress. But she kept teasing him the whole time to let her go to the window to see the gentleman and the lady, "who looked so much like her," drive off. Finally, the hunchback agreed to take the whiting off the windows just for that day so she could take a look outside.

The travelling dress was finished and taken home; and while the hunchback was taking it up by the stairs, la Bella Grazia was getting in by the hole behind the picture; but she had first made a great doll,7 and dressed it just like herself, and stuck it in the window. The gobbo, who stood down below to see the gentry drive off, looked up and saw her, as he thought, at the window, and made signs for her not to stay there too long.

The travel dress was done and taken home; and while the hunchback was carrying it up the stairs, la Bella Grazia was sneaking in through the hole behind the picture. First, she had made a big doll, 7 and dressed it just like her, sticking it in the window. The gobbo, who was standing below watching the rich folks drive away, looked up and saw her, as he thought, at the window and motioned for her not to stay there too long.

Presently the stranger and his lady came down; the hunchback was standing before the carriage door, as I have said, and two stablemen were standing by also.

Presently, the stranger and his lady came down; the hunchback was standing in front of the carriage door, as I mentioned, and two stablemen were standing nearby as well.

‘You give me your good grace?’8 asked the stranger.

‘Are you offering me your good graces?’8 asked the stranger.

‘Yes, yes!’ readily responded the hunchback, delighted to find a rich gentleman so civil to him.

‘Yeah, yeah!’ quickly replied the hunchback, thrilled to meet a wealthy gentleman who was so courteous to him.

‘You say it sincerely, with all your heart?’ again asked the stranger.

‘You really mean it, with all your heart?’ the stranger asked again.

‘Yes, yes, yes! with all my heart,’ answered the hunchback.

‘Yes, yes, yes! with all my heart,’ replied the hunchback.

‘Then give me your hand upon it.’

‘Then give me your hand on that.’

And the hunchback, more and more delighted, put out his hand, the two stablemen standing by looking on attentively all the time.

And the hunchback, increasingly happy, reached out his hand, while the two stablemen nearby watched intently the whole time.

As soon as the carriage had driven away, the hunchback’s first care was to look up at the window to see if the girl had gone in; but the doll was still there.

As soon as the carriage left, the hunchback's first concern was to look up at the window to check if the girl had gone inside; but the doll was still there.

‘Go in! go in!’ he cried, waving his hand. But the figure remained unmoved. Indignant, he took a stick and ran up to punish the girl for her disobedience, and when [403]the blows fell thick and fast and no cries came, he discovered the trick that had been played.

‘Go inside! Go inside!’ he shouted, waving his hand. But the figure stayed still. Furious, he grabbed a stick and rushed over to punish the girl for not listening, and when [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] the blows landed quickly and he heard no cries, he realized the trick that had been played.

Without loss of time he ran off to the Court and laid a complaint before the judge, demanding that soldiers should be called out and sent after the fugitives; but the stablemen had their orders, and were there before him, and deposed that they were witnesses to his having given ‘his Good Grace’ up to the gentleman ‘with all his heart,’ and given him his hand upon the bargain.

Without wasting any time, he rushed to the Court and filed a complaint with the judge, asking for soldiers to be dispatched after the escapees. However, the stablemen had their orders and arrived before him, stating that they witnessed him willingly surrendering ‘his Good Grace’ to the gentleman ‘with all his heart’ and shaking his hand on the deal.

‘You see you have given her up of your own accord; there is nothing to be done!’ said the judge. So he got no redress.

‘You see you have given her up willingly; there’s nothing that can be done!’ said the judge. So he got no remedy.

1 ‘La Buona Grazia del Gobbo.’ ↑

1 'The Good Grace of the Hunchback.' ↑

2 ‘In mezzo alla strada.’ ↑

2 'In the middle of the road.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

3 ‘Good Grace,’ also the ‘good favour,’ the ‘good graces.’ ↑

3 ‘Good Grace,’ also known as ‘good favor’ or ‘good graces.’ ↑

4 ‘Cortile,’ inner court of palaces and houses that are built in a quadrangle. ↑

4 ‘Cortile,’ the inner courtyard of palaces and houses designed in a square shape. ↑

5 ‘Saccoccia di polenta.’ ‘Polenta’ is a porridge made of Indian corn meal, which makes a staple article of food of the Italian peasantry. It is, however, used for the meal of which the porridge is going to be made, though that is more usually called ‘formentone,’ or ‘grano turco.’ ‘Saccroccia di polenta’ would be a large pouch in which poor country labourers carry a provision of meal, when going out to work in the Campagna. The girl takes Giuditta’s bag in the picture for such a ‘saccoccia’ as she had been used to see. ↑

5 ‘Saccoccia di polenta.’ ‘Polenta’ is a porridge made from cornmeal, which is a common food for Italian peasants. However, it is also used for the meal that the porridge is going to be made from, although that is usually called ‘formentone’ or ‘grano turco.’ ‘Saccoccia di polenta’ would be a large pouch that poor country workers use to carry a supply of meal when heading out to work in the countryside. The girl in the picture takes Giuditta’s bag as if it were such a ‘saccoccia’ that she is used to seeing. ↑

6 ‘Tramezzo.’ ↑

6 'Tramezzo.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

7 ‘Pupazza,’ a doll, a stuffed figure. ↑

7 ‘Pupazza,’ a doll, a plush figure. ↑

8 ‘Mi date la vostra buona grazia,’ a common expression of no particular meaning; a compliment, equivalent to, ‘We part good friends,’ ‘Give me your good favour.’ ↑

8 "Grant me your good grace," a common phrase with no specific meaning; a compliment, similar to, "We part as good friends," or "Give me your good favor." ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE VALUE OF SALT.

They say there was a king who had three daughters. He was very anxious to know which of them loved him most; he tried them in various ways, and it always seemed as if the youngest daughter came out best by the test. Yet he was never satisfied, because he was prepossessed with the idea that the elder ones loved him most. [404]

They say there was a king with three daughters. He was really eager to find out which one loved him the most; he tested them in different ways, and it always seemed like the youngest daughter did the best. Still, he was never satisfied because he was convinced that the older ones loved him more. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

One day he thought he would settle the matter once for all, by asking each separately how much she loved him. So he called the eldest by herself, and asked her how much she loved him.

One day, he decided he would settle the issue once and for all by asking each of them separately how much they loved him. So, he called the oldest one in, and asked her how much she loved him.

‘As much as the bread we eat,’ ran her reply; and he said within himself, ‘She must, as I thought, love me the most of all; for bread is the first necessary of our existence, without which we cannot live. She means, therefore, that she loves me so much she could not live without me.’

‘As much as the bread we eat,’ was her reply; and he thought to himself, ‘She must, as I suspected, love me the most of all; because bread is the essential thing we need to survive, without which we cannot live. What she means, then, is that she loves me so much she couldn't live without me.’

Then he called the second daughter by herself, and said to her, ‘How much do you love me?’

Then he called the second daughter over and asked her, ‘How much do you love me?’

And she answered, ‘As much as wine!’

And she replied, "Just like wine!"

‘That is a good answer too,’ said the king to himself. ‘It is true she does not seem to love me quite so much as the eldest; but still, scarcely can one live without wine,1 so that there is not much difference.’

‘That's a good answer too,’ the king said to himself. ‘It's true she doesn't seem to love me as much as the oldest one; but still, you can hardly live without wine,1 so there's not much difference.’

Then he called the youngest by herself, and said to her, ‘And you, how much do you love me?’

Then he called the youngest one over and said to her, ‘And you, how much do you love me?’

And she answered, ‘As much as salt!’

And she replied, “Just like salt!”

Then the king said, ‘What a contemptible comparison! She only loves me as much as the cheapest and commonest thing that comes to table. This is as much as to say, she doesn’t love me at all. I always thought it was so. I will never see her again.’

Then the king said, ‘What a pathetic comparison! She only loves me as much as the most inexpensive and ordinary thing on the table. This basically means she doesn’t love me at all. I always thought that was the case. I will never see her again.’

Then he ordered that a wing of the palace should be shut up from the rest, where she should be served with everything belonging to her condition in life, but where she should live by herself apart, and never come near him.

Then he ordered that a section of the palace should be closed off from the rest, where she would be provided with everything suited to her status in life, but where she would live alone and never come near him.

Here she lived, then, all alone. But though her father fancied she did not care for him, she pined so much at being kept away from him, that at last she was worn out,2 and could bear it no longer.

Here she lived, then, all alone. But even though her father thought she didn't care about him, she missed him so much while being kept away from him that eventually she was exhausted, 2 and couldn’t take it anymore.

The room that had been given her had no windows on to the street, that she might not have the amusement of seeing what was going on in the town, but they looked [405]upon an inner court-yard. Here she sometimes saw the cook come out and wash vegetables at the fountain.

The room she was given had no windows facing the street, so she wouldn’t be distracted by what was happening in town; instead, it looked out on an inner courtyard. Here, she would sometimes see the cook come out to wash vegetables at the fountain.

‘Cook! cook!’ she called one day, as she saw him pass thus under the window.

‘Cook! cook!’ she called one day, as she saw him walk by under the window.

The cook looked up with a good-natured face, which gave her encouragement.

The cook looked up with a friendly face, which gave her confidence.

‘Don’t you think, cook, I must be very lonely and miserable up here all alone?’

‘Don’t you think, cook, I must feel really lonely and miserable up here all by myself?’

‘Yes, Signorina!’ he replied; ‘I often think I should like to help you to get out; but I dare not think of it, the king would be so angry.’

‘Yes, Miss!’ he replied; ‘I often think I’d like to help you get out; but I can’t even think about it, the king would be so angry.’

‘No, I don’t want you to do anything to disobey the king,’ answered the princess; ‘but would you really do me a favour, which would make me very grateful indeed?’

‘No, I don’t want you to do anything to disobey the king,’ the princess replied; ‘but would you really do me a favor that would make me very grateful?’

‘O! yes, Signorina, anything which I can do without disobeying the king,’ replied the faithful servant.

‘Oh! yes, Signorina, anything I can do without going against the king,’ replied the loyal servant.

‘Then this is it,’ said the princess. ‘Will you just oblige me so far as to cook papa’s dinner to-day without any salt in anything? Not the least grain in anything at all. Let it be as good a dinner as you like, but no salt in anything. Will you do that?’

‘Then this is it,’ said the princess. ‘Will you please do me a favor and make dad’s dinner today without any salt? Not even a tiny bit in anything at all. Make it as nice a dinner as you want, just no salt in anything. Will you do that?’

‘I see!’ replied the cook, with a knowing nod. ‘Yes, depend on me, I will do it.’

‘I see!’ replied the cook, nodding knowingly. ‘Yes, trust me, I’ll handle it.’

That day at dinner the king had no salt in the soup, no salt in the boiled meat, no salt in the roast, no salt in the fried.

That day at dinner, the king had no salt in the soup, no salt in the boiled meat, no salt in the roast, and no salt in the fried food.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ said the king, as he pushed dish after dish away from him. ‘There is not a single thing I can eat to-day. I don’t know what they have done to everything, but there is not a single thing that has got the least taste. Let the cook be called.’

‘What is the meaning of this?’ said the king, as he pushed dish after dish away from him. ‘There’s not a single thing I can eat today. I don’t know what they did to everything, but nothing has any taste. Call the cook.’

So the cook came before him.

So the cook came to see him.

‘What have you done to the victuals to-day?’ said the king, sternly. ‘You have sent up a lot of dishes, and no one alive can tell one from another. They are all of them [406]exactly alike, and there is not one of them can be eaten. Speak!’

‘What have you done to the food today?’ said the king, sternly. ‘You’ve sent up a bunch of dishes, and no one can tell one from another. They’re all exactly alike, and not one of them is edible. Speak!’

The cook answered:

The chef replied:

‘Hearing your Majesty say that salt was the commonest thing that comes to table, and altogether so worthless and contemptible, I considered in my mind whether it was a thing that at all deserved to be served up to the table of the king; and judging that it was not worthy, I abolished it from the king’s kitchen, and dressed all the meats without it. Barring this, the dishes are the same that are sent every day to the table of the king.’

‘Hearing Your Majesty say that salt was the most common thing on the table and completely worthless and trivial, I thought about whether it really deserved a place at the king's table. Concluding that it didn’t, I removed it from the king’s kitchen and prepared all the dishes without it. Other than that, the meals are the same ones served every day to the king.’

Then the king understood the value of salt, and he comprehended how great was the love of his youngest child for him; so he sent and had her apartment opened, and called her to him, never to go away any more.

Then the king realized the importance of salt, and he understood how deep his youngest child's love was for him; so he had her room opened and called her to him, making sure she would never leave again.

1 In a wine country the idea of wine being almost a necessity of existence occurs more readily than in England, where, however general its use, it is still a luxury. ↑

1 In a wine country, the concept of wine being essential to life is more common than in England, where, despite its widespread use, it remains a luxury. ↑

2 ‘Era stufa,’ a way of saying, she was ‘worn out,’ ‘wearied out.’ ↑

2 ‘She was exhausted,’ a way of saying she was ‘worn out,’ ‘weary.’ ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE PRINCESS AND THE GENTLEMAN.

There was a princess whose mother had died of vexation because she was in love with a simple gentleman of the chamber, and would not hear of marrying anyone else, nor would she look at any prince who came to sue for her hand.

There was a princess whose mother had died from distress because she loved a humble gentleman of the court, and wouldn’t consider marrying anyone else, nor would she even look at any prince who came to ask for her hand.

The king, not only vexed at her perversity, but still more at the loss of his wife, determined to devise a punishment to cure them both. He had two suites of apartments walled up, therefore; in one he had the princess imprisoned, and in the other the gentleman of the chamber with whom she was in love. The latter, he commanded, should see no one, thinking thereby to weary him out; the former he allowed only to see such persons as he should [407]appoint, these persons being the princes one or other of whom he wished her to marry; for he thought that in her weariness at being so shut up, she would welcome the hand of anyone who would be her deliverer. It was not so, however. When the cook came in to the princess with her dinner, she begged him to give her a chicken that had been killed several days, and kept till it had a bad smell.

The king, not only frustrated by her stubbornness but even more by the loss of his wife, decided to come up with a punishment that would teach them both a lesson. He had two sets of rooms sealed off; in one, he locked up the princess, and in the other, the man she loved who served as a gentleman of the chamber. He ordered that the man see no one, thinking that would exhaust him; for the princess, he only allowed visits from people he would [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]choose, who were princes he wanted her to marry. He believed that being so confined would make her eager to accept anyone who could rescue her. However, that was not the case. When the cook came in to bring the princess her dinner, she asked him for a chicken that had been dead for several days and had begun to smell.

When her father now sent any prince to visit her she said, ‘It is no use my father sending you here, the reason why I cannot marry anyone is that I have a great defect; my breath smells so bad that it is not pleasant for anyone to live with me.’

When her dad sent any prince to visit her, she said, ‘There’s no point in my dad sending you here. The reason I can’t marry anyone is that I have a major issue; my breath smells so bad that it’s not pleasant for anyone to be around me.’

As the bad smell from the chicken was readily to be perceived in the room, they all believed her words and went away. There was one, indeed, who was so much pleased with her seeming candour that he thought he would excuse her defect, but on a second visit the smell of the dead chicken drove him away too.

As the awful smell from the chicken quickly filled the room, they all believed her and left. There was one person who was so impressed by her apparent honesty that he thought he could overlook her flaw, but on a second visit, the stench of the dead chicken sent him packing as well.

The cooks in the kitchen talked together after the manner of cooks, and thus the cook who waited on the princess told what had happened to the cook who waited on the other prisoner, and thus it came round to his ears also, what the princess had done for love of him. Her stratagem then suggested another to him. Accordingly he sent to crave urgently an audience of the king.

The cooks in the kitchen chatted as cooks do, and so the cook who served the princess shared what had happened with the cook who attended to the other prisoner, and in this way, he also learned about what the princess had done for his sake. Her clever move inspired him to come up with another idea. So, he requested an urgent meeting with the king.

When the king came in to him he said:

When the king walked in, he said:

‘Sire, closely as I have been confined and guarded, yet something of what goes on in the outer world has reached my ears, and the fact which has the greatest interest for me has naturally been told to me. I now learn that the reason why your daughter has refused the suit of all the princes is not as we thought, her love for me, but a certain personal defect, which in politeness I will not name more particularly. But that being so, my desire to marry her is, of course, cured like that of others; so if your majesty will give me my liberty I will go away [408]to a far country, and your majesty would never hear of me any more.’

'Sire, even though I've been kept under close watch, I've still heard some things about what’s happening outside, and the most intriguing piece of information for me has naturally come my way. I've just learned that the reason your daughter has turned down all the princes isn't what we thought—my love for her—but rather a certain personal issue, which I won’t detail out of politeness. With that said, my desire to marry her has, of course, gone away like everyone else's; so if your Majesty would grant me my freedom, I would leave for a distant land, and you would never hear from me again.'

The king was delighted to get rid of him, for he believed that if he were at a distance the great obstacle to his daughter’s happiness would be removed. As he knew nothing about the chicken, he thought that all the suitors had believed the princess’s representations upon her simple word; and as he very well knew she had no defect, he thought the time would come when some prince should please her, whom she also should please. Therefore, he very willingly gave the gentleman his liberty, and bid him godspeed on his journey.

The king was thrilled to see him go, as he believed that if he was far away, the major barrier to his daughter's happiness would be gone. Since he knew nothing about the chicken, he assumed that all the suitors took the princess's word at face value; and since he knew she had no flaws, he believed the day would come when a prince would make her happy, and she would make him happy in return. So, he gladly let the man go free and wished him good luck on his journey.

The gentleman, however, before setting out, went to his friend the cook, and, giving him three hundred scudi, begged him to house him for a few nights, while he dug out an underground passage between the garden and the apartment where the princess was imprisoned.

The gentleman, however, before he left, went to his friend the cook and, giving him three hundred scudi, asked him to let him stay for a few nights while he dug an underground passage between the garden and the room where the princess was held captive.

In the garden was a handsome terrace, all set out with life-sized statues; under one of these the gentleman worked his way, till he had reached the princess’s chamber.

In the garden was a beautiful terrace, filled with life-sized statues; he made his way under one of these until he reached the princess's room.

‘You here!’ exclaimed the princess in great astonishment, as soon as he had made his way through.

‘You’re here!’ exclaimed the princess in shock, as soon as he had made his way through.

‘Yes; I have come to fetch you,’ he replied.

‘Yes; I’m here to get you,’ he replied.

She did not wait for a second injunction to escape from prison, but gathering all the money and jewels she had at command, she followed him through the underground way he had made.

She didn’t wait for a second chance to break out of prison; instead, she gathered all the money and jewelry she had access to and followed him through the secret passage he had created.

As soon as they had reached the free air, the gentleman replaced the statue, and no one could guess by which way they had passed. Then they went to a church to be married, and, after that, to a city a long way off, as the gentleman had promised the king he would.

As soon as they got outside, the man put the statue back, and no one could figure out how they had gotten away. Then they went to a church to get married, and afterward, they traveled to a city far away, just like the man had promised the king he would.

For a long time they lived very happily on the money and jewels each had brought from home; but, by-and-by, these came to an end, and neither durst write for [409]more, for fear of betraying where they were. So at last, having no means of living, they engaged themselves to a rich lady who had a large mansion;1 the one as butler,2 and the other as nurse.3 Here they were well content to live at peace; and the lady was well content to have two such faithful and intelligent dependents, and they might have lived here till the end of their lives, but for a coincidence4 which strangely disconcerted them, as you shall hear, as well as what came of it.

For a long time, they lived very happily off the money and jewels each had brought from home; but eventually, these ran out, and neither of them dared to write for [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] more, for fear of revealing where they were. So finally, with no means of support, they took jobs with a wealthy woman who owned a large mansion;1 one worked as a butler,2 and the other as a nurse.3 Here, they were quite happy living in peace, and the lady was pleased to have two such loyal and capable helpers. They could have lived there for the rest of their lives, but an unexpected event4 unsettled them, as you will hear, along with what happened next.

One day there came to visit the lady, their mistress, a nobleman belonging to the king’s court. At dinner time the princess had to come to table along with the little daughter of the house, of whom she had the charge. Great was her terror when she recognised in the guest of the day one so familiar to herself and so near the sovereign. In conformity with the lowliness of the station she had assumed, she could escape actually talking to him, and she did her best to withdraw herself from his notice. She half hoped she had succeeded, when suddenly the butler had to come into the room to communicate an important despatch which had just arrived, to the mistress of the house. The princess could not restrain an anxious glance at the stranger, to see if he betrayed any sign of recognition; but he was used to courts, and therefore to dissemble; nor could she satisfy herself that he had discovered either of them. It was so likely that he should, however, that she was filled with fear, and he was no sooner gone than she held a long consultation with her husband as to what course they should pursue.

One day, a nobleman from the king’s court came to visit their mistress. At dinner, the princess had to join the table along with the little girl of the house, whom she was responsible for. She was extremely scared when she recognized the guest as someone she knew well and who was close to the king. Since she had taken on a lower position, she managed to avoid talking to him and tried her best to stay out of his sight. She almost thought she had succeeded when suddenly the butler entered the room to deliver an important message that had just arrived for the lady of the house. The princess couldn’t help but glance anxiously at the stranger to see if he showed any signs of recognition; however, he was accustomed to court life and skilled at hiding his thoughts, leaving her unsure whether he had recognized either of them. Yet, it seemed possible that he had, which filled her with fear. As soon as he left, she had a long discussion with her husband about what they should do next.

In the end, the difficulty of finding other employment decided them to remain, for the probability that they would be tracked seemed remote. After all, they reasoned, was it likely that the nobleman should think it worth while to observe two persons occupying such humble posts with sufficient attention to see who they were or who they were not? [410]

In the end, the challenge of finding other jobs made them decide to stay, as the chance of being discovered seemed unlikely. After all, they thought, would the nobleman really find it worth his while to pay attention to two people in such lowly positions enough to find out who they were or who they weren't? [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

The king meantime had been searching everywhere for his daughter, not being able by any means to divine how she could have escaped. Then one morning, all this time after, the nobleman comes down upon him with the news:

The king had been looking everywhere for his daughter, unable to understand how she could have escaped. Then one morning, after all this time, the nobleman approached him with the news:

‘I have found the princess. She is living as nurse to the Duchessa such a one, and her husband is the butler.’

‘I have found the princess. She is working as a nurse for the Duchessa, and her husband is the butler.’

The king could not rest a moment after he had heard the news; his travelling carriage was ordered round, and away he drove. It was just dinner-time when he arrived at the Duchessa’s palace. If the princess had been terrified before, at being called to sit at table with a nobleman of the court, judge how much greater was her alarm when she saw her father himself seated at the board!

The king couldn't relax for a second after he heard the news; he ordered his carriage and took off right away. It was around dinner time when he reached the Duchess’s palace. If the princess had been scared before about dining with a court noble, imagine how much more terrified she was when she saw her father himself sitting at the table!

Great as had been his indignation, however, the joy of again meeting his child after the long separation blotted out all his anger, and after embracing her tenderly, he placed her by his side at the table. It was only when he came to take leave, and realised that she really belonged to another that his ire broke forth again. At this point the Duchessa put in a word. She highly extolled the excellent qualities of her butler, and declared he had been so skilful in the administration of her affairs, that he deserved to have a kingdom committed to him. In short, she softened the king’s heart so completely that she brought him to own that, as he had now grown very old and feeble, he could not do better than recognise him for his son-in-law, and associate him with himself in the government.

As angry as he had been, the joy of finally reuniting with his child after such a long time wiped out all his frustration. After embracing her lovingly, he sat her next to him at the table. It was only when it was time to say goodbye and he realized she truly belonged to someone else that his anger flared up again. At that moment, the Duchessa spoke up. She praised her butler’s outstanding qualities and said he had managed her affairs so well that he deserved to have a kingdom entrusted to him. In short, she softened the king’s heart to the point where he admitted that, now that he was very old and frail, he couldn’t do better than recognize him as his son-in-law and involve him in the government.

And so he did,5 and they all lived happily. [411]

And so he did, 5 and they all lived happily. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

1 ‘Palazzo.’ ↑

1 'Palace.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Credenziere,’ confidential servant. ↑

2 ‘Credenziere,’ trusted servant. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

3 ‘Aia,’ upper nurse, nursery governess. ↑

3 'Here's the upper nurse, the nursery governess.' ↑

4 ‘Combinazione.’ ↑

4 ‘Combination.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

5 ‘E così fece’ (and thus he did) is another of the expressions in universal use in Rome in tale-telling, forming a sort of refrain. ↑

5 ‘And so he did.’ (and so he did) is another common phrase used in Rome when telling stories, acting like a sort of refrain. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE HAPPY COUPLE.1

I can tell you a story,2 or two perhaps. What a number I used to know, to be sure! But what can I do? It is thirty years and more since anyone has asked me for them, and it’s hard to put one’s ideas together after such a time. You mustn’t mind if I put the wrong part of the story before, and have to go backwards and forwards a little.

I can tell you a story, 2 or two, maybe. I used to know quite a few, for sure! But what can I do? It’s been over thirty years since anyone asked me for them, and it’s tough to organize my thoughts after all this time. You must not mind if I get parts of the story mixed up and have to go back and forth a bit.

I know there was one that ran thus:—

I know there was one that went like this:—

There was a married couple who lived so happy and content and fond of each other, that they never had a word of dispute about anything the live-long day, but only thought of helping and pleasing each other.

There was a married couple who lived so happily and were so fond of each other that they never had a harsh word to say all day long, only thinking of how to help and please one another.

The Devil saw this, and determined to set them by the ears; but how was he to do it? Such love and peace reigned in their home, that he couldn’t find any way into the place. After prowling and prowling about, and finding no means of entrance, what does he do? He went to an old woman,—she must have been one of those who dabble with things they have no business to touch,—and said to her:

The Devil saw this and decided to stir up conflict between them; but how was he supposed to do it? There was so much love and peace in their home that he couldn’t find a way in. After wandering around and finding no way to get in, what did he do? He went to an old woman—she was probably one of those who meddle with things they shouldn’t— and said to her:

‘You must do this job for me!’

‘You have to do this job for me!’

‘That’s no great matter,’ answered the old hag.3 ‘Give me ten scudi for my niece and a new pair of shoes for me, and I’ll settle the matter.’

‘That’s not a big deal,’ replied the old hag.3 ‘Just give me ten scudi for my niece and a new pair of shoes for myself, and I’ll take care of it.’

‘Here are the ten scudi,’ said the Devil; ‘it will be time enough to talk about the shoes when we see how you do the business.’

‘Here are the ten scudi,’ said the Devil; ‘we can talk about the shoes later, once we see how you handle the job.’

The bad old woman set off accordingly with her niece and the ten scudi, instructing her by the way what she was to do.

The old woman headed out with her niece and the ten scudi, telling her along the way what she needed to do.

This husband and wife lived in a place where there was a house on one side and a shop on the other, so that through a window in the house where they lived they could give an eye to anything that went on in the shop. [412]

This husband and wife lived in a place where there was a house on one side and a shop on the other, so from a window in the house they could keep an eye on everything happening in the shop. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Choosing a moment when the man was alone in the shop, she sent the girl in with the ten scudi; and the girl, who had been told what to do, selected a dress, and a handkerchief, and a number of fine things, and paid her ten scudi. Then she proceeded leisurely to put them on, and to walk up and down the shop in them. Meantime the bad old woman went up to the wife:—

Choosing a time when the man was alone in the shop, she sent the girl in with the ten scudi. The girl, who had been given instructions, picked out a dress, a handkerchief, and several nice items, and handed over the ten scudi. Then she took her time trying them on and walked around the shop in her new outfit. Meanwhile, the mean old woman approached the wife:—

‘Poor woman!’ she said. ‘Poor woman! Such a good woman as you are, and to have such a hypocrite of a husband!’

‘Poor woman!’ she said. ‘Poor woman! Such a good person as you are, and to have such a hypocritical husband!’

‘My husband a hypocrite!’ answered the wife. ‘What can you mean—he is the best man that ever was.’

‘My husband is such a hypocrite!’ replied the wife. ‘What do you mean—he's the best man ever?’

‘Ah! he makes you think so, poor simple soul. But the truth is, he is very different from what you think.’

‘Oh! He makes you believe that, poor naive soul. But the truth is, he’s very different from what you think.’

So they went on conversing, and the bad old woman all the time watching what was going on in the shop till the right moment came. Just as the girl was flaunting about and showing herself off, she said:

So they kept talking, and the old woman was watching everything happening in the shop until the right moment arrived. Just as the girl was strutting around and showing herself off, she said:

‘Look here, he has given all those things to that girl there.’

‘Look, he has given all those things to that girl over there.’

And though the wife did not believe a word, curiosity prompted her to look, and there she saw the girl bowing herself out with as many thanks and adieus as if the poor man had really given her the things she had bought.

And even though the wife didn't believe a word, her curiosity got the better of her, and she peeked in. There she saw the girl leaving with so many thanks and goodbyes, as if the poor man had actually given her the things she had purchased.

‘Perhaps you will believe that!’ observed the bad old woman.

‘Maybe you’ll buy that!’ the wicked old woman remarked.

‘Indeed, I cannot help believing it,’ answered the wife, ‘but never otherwise should I have thought it; and I owe you a great deal for opening my eyes;’ and she gave her a whole cheese.4 ‘I know what I shall do,’ she continued, as she sobbed over her lost peace of mind; ‘I shall show him I know his bad conduct by having no dinner ready for him when he comes up by-and-by.’

‘Honestly, I can't help but believe it,’ the wife replied, ‘but I would never have thought this otherwise; I really owe you for helping me see the truth;’ and she handed her a whole cheese. 4 ‘I know what I'll do,’ she continued, crying over her lost peace of mind; ‘I’ll let him know I know what he’s been up to by not having dinner ready for him when he comes upstairs later.’

‘That’s right,’ said the bad old woman. ‘Do so, and show him you are not going to be trampled on for the [413]sake of a drab of a girl like that;’ and she tied her cheese up in a handkerchief, and went her way.

‘That’s right,’ said the mean old woman. ‘Do it, and show him you won’t be walked all over for the [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] sake of a plain girl like her;’ and she wrapped her cheese in a handkerchief and went on her way.

Down she went now to the husband, and plied him with suspicions of his wife, similar to those she had suggested to her against him. The husband was even less willing to listen to her than the wife had been, and when at last he drove her away, she said:

Down she went now to her husband, and filled his head with doubts about his wife, just like the ones she had raised with her against him. The husband was even less keen to listen to her than the wife had been, and when he finally pushed her away, she said:

‘You think she’s busy all the morning preparing your dinner; but instead of that, she’s talking to those you wouldn’t like her to talk with. And you see now if to-day she hasn’t been at this game so long that she has forgotten your dinner altogether.’

‘You think she’s been busy all morning getting your dinner ready; but actually, she’s chatting with people you wouldn't want her to talk to. And now you can see if today she hasn’t been at this for so long that she’s completely forgotten about your dinner.’

The husband turned a deaf ear, and continued attending to his shop; but when he went into the house and found no dinner ready, it seemed as if all that the bad old woman had said was come true.

The husband ignored her and kept working in his shop; but when he went inside and found no dinner prepared, it felt like everything the nasty old woman had said had come true.

He was too sad for words, so they didn’t have much of a quarrel, but there could not but be a coldness after such an extraordinary event as a day without dinner.

He was too upset to speak, so they didn’t argue much, but there was definitely a chill after such an unusual event as a day without dinner.

The husband went back to his shop and mused. The wife sat alone in her room crying; presently the old hag came back to her.

The husband returned to his shop and thought. The wife sat alone in her room crying; soon, the old hag came back to her.

‘Well, did you tell him you had found him out?’ she inquired.

‘So, did you tell him you figured him out?’ she asked.

‘No! I hadn’t courage to do that. And he was so patient about there being no dinner, that I felt quite sorry to have suspected him. Oh, you who have been so clever in pointing out my misery to me, can you not tell me some means of reconciliation?’

‘No! I didn’t have the courage to do that. And he was so understanding about there being no dinner that I felt really bad for having doubted him. Oh, you who have been so good at highlighting my sadness, can you tell me how to make things right?’

‘Yes, there is one; but I don’t know if you can manage it.’

‘Yes, there is one; but I’m not sure if you can handle it.’

‘Oh yes; I would do anything!’

‘Oh yes; I would do anything!’

‘Then you must watch till he is quite sound asleep, and take a sharp razor and cut off three hairs from the undergrowth of his beard, quite close to the skin. If you do that it will all come right again.’ [414]

‘Then you need to wait until he is completely asleep, and take a sharp razor to cut off three hairs from the bottom of his beard, really close to the skin. If you do that, everything will be okay again.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘It seems a very odd remedy,’ said the wife; ‘but if you say it will do, I suppose it will, and thank you kindly for the advice;’ and she gave her another cheese.

‘It sounds like a strange solution,’ said the wife; ‘but if you say it will work, I guess it will, and thank you for the advice;’ and she handed her another cheese.

Then the witch went back to the husband.

Then the witch returned to the husband.

‘I suppose I was mistaken, and you found your dinner ready after all?’ she said.

‘I guess I was wrong, and you actually found your dinner ready after all?’ she said.

‘No!’ he replied; ‘you were right about there being no dinner; but I am certain there was some cause for there being none, other than what you say.’

‘No!’ he replied; ‘you were right about there being no dinner; but I’m sure there was a reason for it not being there, apart from what you’re saying.’

‘What other cause should there be?’ exclaimed the old woman.

‘What other reason could there be?’ exclaimed the old woman.

‘That I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘But some other cause I am persuaded there must have been.’

'I'm not sure,' he said. 'But I'm convinced there must have been some other reason.'

‘Well, if you are so infatuated, I will give you another token that I am right,’ replied the old woman. ‘You don’t deserve that I should save your life, but I am so goodnatured, I can’t help warning you. To-night, I have reason to know, she intends to murder you. You just give some make-believe snoring, but mind you don’t sleep, whatever you do; and you see if she doesn’t take up one of your razors to stab you in the throat.’

‘Well, if you’re so obsessed, I’ll give you another sign that I’m right,’ replied the old woman. ‘You don’t deserve for me to save your life, but I’m nice enough that I can’t help but warn you. Tonight, I know she plans to kill you. Just pretend to snore, but whatever you do, don’t actually sleep; and you’ll see if she doesn’t grab one of your razors to stab you in the throat.’

The good husband refused to believe a word, and drove her away. Nevertheless, when night came he felt not a little anxious; and if he had tried to sleep ever so much he could not, for he felt so excited. Then curiosity to see if the woman’s words would come true overcame him, and he pretended to snore.

The good husband didn’t believe a word and sent her away. However, when night fell, he felt quite anxious; and no matter how hard he tried to sleep, he couldn’t because he felt so restless. Then, his curiosity to see if the woman’s words would come true took over, and he pretended to snore.

He had not been snoring thus long, when the wife took up the razor and came all trembling to the bedside, and lifted up his beard.

He hadn't been snoring for long when his wife grabbed the razor and nervously approached the bedside, lifting his beard.

A cold sweat crept over the poor husband as she approached—not for fear of his life, which he could easily rescue, as he was awake—but because the proof seemed there that the old hag had spoken the truth. However, instead of taking it for granted it was so, and refusing to hear any justification—perhaps killing her on the spot, as [415]she had hoped and expected,—he calmly seized her arm, and said:

A cold sweat swept over the poor husband as she came closer—not because he was afraid for his life, which he could easily save since he was awake—but because it looked like the old witch had been telling the truth. However, instead of just accepting that it was true and dismissing any explanation—maybe even killing her on the spot, like [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]she had hoped and expected—he calmly grabbed her arm and said:

‘Tell me, what are you going to do with that razor?’

‘Tell me, what are you planning to do with that razor?’

The wife sank on her knees by his side, crying:

The wife dropped to her knees beside him, crying:

‘I cannot expect you to believe me, but this is really how it was. An old woman came and told me you were making love to a young girl in the shop, and showed me how she was bowing and scraping to you. I was so vexed, that to show you my anger I got no dinner ready; but afterwards, I felt as if I should like to ask you all about it, to make sure there was no mistake: only after what I had done, I didn’t know how to begin speaking to you again. Then I asked the old woman if she couldn’t tell me some means of bringing things straight again; and she said, if I could cut off three hairs from the undergrowth of your beard, all would come right. But I can’t expect you to believe it.’

‘I can't expect you to believe me, but this is really how it was. An old woman came and told me you were flirting with a young girl in the shop and showed me how she was bowing and scraping to you. I was so upset that, to show you my anger, I didn’t make any dinner. But later, I felt like I wanted to ask you about it to make sure there wasn’t any misunderstanding; only after what I had done, I didn’t know how to start talking to you again. So, I asked the old woman if she could suggest a way to fix things, and she said if I could cut off three hairs from the underside of your beard, everything would be fine. But I can’t expect you to believe that.’

‘Yes, I do,’ replied the husband. ‘The same old wretch came to me, and wanted me in like manner to believe all manner of evil things of you, but I refused to believe you could do anything wrong. So I had more confidence in you than you had in me. But still we were both very nearly making ourselves very foolish and very unhappy; so we will take a lesson never to doubt each other again.’

‘Yes, I do,’ replied the husband. ‘That same old jerk came to me and wanted me to believe all sorts of terrible things about you, but I refused to think you could do anything wrong. So I had more faith in you than you had in me. But we were both close to making ourselves look really foolish and unhappy, so let’s promise to never doubt each other again.’

And after that there never was a word between them any more.

And after that, they never spoke to each other again.

When the Devil saw how the old woman had spoilt the affair, he took the pair of shoes he was to have given her, and tied them on to a long cane which he fastened on the top of a mountain, and there they dangled before her eyes, but she could never get at them.

When the Devil noticed how the old woman had messed things up, he took the pair of shoes he was going to give her and tied them to a long stick that he placed on top of a mountain. They dangled in front of her eyes, but she could never reach them.

[This is just the Siddi Kür story of the mischief-making fox, which I have given as ‘The Perfidious Friend’ in ‘Sagas from the Far East,’ and similar to the first Pantcha Tantra story.]

[This is just the Siddi Kür story of the troublemaking fox, which I have titled ‘The Deceitful Friend’ in ‘Sagas from the Far East,’ and it's similar to the first Pantcha Tantra story.]

1 ‘I sposi Felici.’ ↑

1 'The Happy Spouses.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Esempio,’ see preface. ‘Esempiuccio,’ a termination of endearment, meaning in this place ‘a nice “esempio”.’ ↑

2 ‘Example,’ see preface. ‘Little example,’ a term of endearment, meaning here ‘a nice “example.”’ ↑

3 ‘Vecchiaccia,’ bad old woman. ↑

3 ‘Vecchiaccia,’ mean old lady. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4 ‘Forma di formaggio,’ a whole cheese. ‘Cacio,’ the proper word for [416]cheese, is almost entirely superseded by ‘formaggio,’ which comes from ‘forma,’ the press or mould in which it is made. ↑

4 ‘Forma di formaggio,’ a whole cheese. ‘Cacio,’ the proper word for [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] cheese, is almost completely replaced by ‘formaggio,’ which comes from ‘forma,’ the press or mold used in its production. ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE ROOM OF A HOTEL.1

They say there was a countess who was very fond of her husband, and her husband was very fond of her; and they vowed nothing should ever make the one think ill of the other.

They say there was a countess who really loved her husband, and her husband really loved her; and they promised that nothing would ever make one of them think poorly of the other.

One day the brother of the countess, who had been long away at the wars, and whom the count had never seen, came back to see her just while the count was out.

One day, the countess's brother, who had been away fighting for a long time and whom the count had never met, returned to visit her while the count was out.

‘Now we’ll have some fun,’ said the countess. ‘We’ll watch till my husband is coming home, and then as he comes into the room you just be kissing me; he will be so astonished to see a stranger kissing me, he will not know what to make of it. Then in five minutes we will tell him who you really are, and it will make a good laugh.’

‘Now we’ll have some fun,’ said the countess. ‘We’ll watch until my husband gets home, and then as he walks into the room, you just kiss me; he will be so shocked to see a stranger kissing me, he won’t know what to think. Then in five minutes, we’ll tell him who you really are, and it will be a good laugh.’

The brother thought it would be a good joke, and they did as she had said.

The brother thought it would be a good joke, so they did what she suggested.

It happened, however, that by accident2 the count did not that day as usual come into his wife’s room, but passing along the terrace in front of it, he saw, as she had arranged, one who was a stranger to him kissing her.

It just so happened that, by chance, the count didn’t go into his wife’s room that day like he usually did. Instead, while walking along the terrace in front of it, he saw, as she had set up, a stranger kissing her.

Then he went into his room, and calling his confidential servant3 he told him what had happened, and adding, ‘You will never see me any more,’ went his way.

Then he went into his room and called his trusted servant3. He told him what had happened and added, "You won't see me again," and then left.

The countess waited on and on for her husband to come in, full of impatience to have her joke out. But when she found he did not come at all, she went into his [417]room to seek him there. There she found the servant, who told her what the Count had said, and the desperate resolution he had taken.

The countess waited and waited for her husband to come in, anxious to share her joke. But when she realized he wasn't coming at all, she went into his [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]room to look for him. There, she found the servant, who explained what the Count had said and the drastic decision he had made.

‘What have I done!’ exclaimed the terrified Countess. ‘Is it possible that I am to be punished thus for a harmless joke!’

‘What have I done!’ the terrified Countess exclaimed. ‘Is it possible that I’m going to be punished like this for a harmless joke!’

Then, without saying anything to anyone she wrapped her travelling cloak about her, and set out to seek her husband.

Then, without telling anyone, she wrapped her travel cloak around her and set out to find her husband.

The Count had walked on till he could walk no farther, and then he had gone into an inn, where he hired a room for a week; but he went wandering about the woods in misery and despair, and only came in at an hour of night.4

The Count had walked until he couldn't walk anymore, then he went into an inn and rented a room for a week; but he wandered through the woods in misery and despair and only returned at night. 4

The Countess also walked on till she could walk no farther, and thus she came to the same inn; but as she had only a woman’s strength the same journey took her a much longer time, and it was the afternoon of the next day when she arrived. She too asked for a room, but the host assured her with many expressions of regret, that he had not a single room vacant. The Countess pleaded her weariness; the man reiterated his inability to serve her.

The Countess continued walking until she couldn’t walk any farther, eventually arriving at the same inn. However, since she had only a woman's strength, her journey took much longer, and she got there the next afternoon. She asked for a room, but the innkeeper expressed his regret, saying he had no rooms available. The Countess mentioned how tired she was, but the man insisted he couldn’t help her.

‘Give me only a room to rest a little while in,’ she begged; ‘just a couple of hours, and then I will start again and journey farther.’

‘Just give me a place to rest for a bit,’ she pleaded; ‘just a couple of hours, and then I’ll be on my way again.’

Really compassionating her in her fatigue, the man now said:

Really feeling for her in her exhaustion, the man now said:

‘If you will be satisfied with that much, I can give you a room for a couple of hours; but no more.’

'If you’re okay with that, I can give you a room for a couple of hours; but that's it.'

She was fain to be satisfied with that, as she could get no more, and the host showed her into her husband’s room, which he would not want till ‘an hour of night.’

She was glad to settle for that since she couldn't get anything more, and the host led her into her husband's room, which he wouldn't need until 'an hour of night.'

By accident, however, the Count came in that night an hour earlier, and very much surprised he was to find a lady in his room. The Countess, equally surprised to see a stranger enter, pulled her veil over her face, so that they did not recognise each other. [418]

By chance, the Count arrived that night an hour earlier, and he was quite surprised to find a lady in his room. The Countess, also surprised to see a stranger come in, pulled her veil over her face, so they didn’t recognize each other. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘I am sorry to disturb you, madam, but this room, I must inform you, I have engaged,’ said the count; but sorrow had so altered his voice that the countess did not know it again.

‘I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but I must let you know that I’ve reserved this room,’ said the count; but his voice had changed so much with sorrow that the countess didn’t recognize it.

‘I hope you will spare me,’ replied the Countess. ‘They gave me this room to rest in for two hours, and I have come so long a way that I really need the rest.’

‘I hope you can give me a break,’ replied the Countess. ‘They let me use this room to rest in for two hours, and I’ve traveled such a long distance that I really need to recharge.’

‘I can hardly believe that a lady of gentle condition can have come a very long way, all alone and on foot, for there is no carriage in the yard; so I can only consider this a frivolous pretext,’ replied the Count, for sorrow had embittered him.

‘I can hardly believe that a woman of high status has traveled such a long distance all alone and on foot, since there’s no carriage in the yard; so I can only see this as a silly excuse,’ replied the Count, as sorrow had soured him.

‘Indeed it is too true though,’ continued the Countess. ‘I came all the way from such a place (and she named his own town) without stopping for one moment’s rest.’

‘It really is true though,’ the Countess continued. ‘I traveled all the way from that place (and she named his own town) without taking a single moment to rest.’

‘Indeed!’ said the Count, his interest roused at the mention of his own town; ‘and pray what need had you to use such haste to get away from that good town?’

‘Absolutely!’ said the Count, his curiosity piqued at the mention of his own town; ‘so what made you rush to leave that lovely place?’

‘I had no need to haste to leave the place,’ replied the Countess, hurt at the implied suspicion that she was running away for shame. ‘I hasted to arrive at another place.’

"I didn’t need to rush to leave," replied the Countess, hurt by the suggestion that she was escaping out of shame. "I hurried to get to another place."

‘And that other place was ——?’ persisted the Count, who felt that her intrusion on his privacy gave him a right to cross-question her.

‘And that other place was ——?’ persisted the Count, who felt that her intrusion on his privacy gave him a right to question her.

The Countess was puzzled how to reply. She had no idea what place she was making for.

The Countess was confused about how to respond. She had no clue where she was headed.

‘That I don’t know,’ she said at last, with no little embarrassment.

'I don’t know that,' she finally said, feeling quite embarrassed.

‘You will permit me to say that you seem to have no adequate reason to allege for this unwarrantable occupation of my room; and what little you tell me certainly in no way inclines me to take a favourable view of the affair.’

‘You’ll allow me to say that you don’t really have a good reason for this unjustified takeover of my room; and what little you’ve said doesn’t make me inclined to see this situation in a positive light.’

The Countess was once more stung by the manner in which he seemed to view her journey, and feeling bound to clear herself, she replied: [419]

The Countess was once again irritated by how he seemed to see her journey, and feeling obligated to defend herself, she responded: [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘If you only knew what my journey is about, you would not speak so!’ and she burst into a flood of tears.

‘If you only knew what my journey is about, you wouldn’t say that!’ and she burst into tears.

Softened by her distress, the Count said in a kinder tone:

Softened by her distress, the Count said in a gentler tone:

‘Had you been pleased to confide that to me at first, maybe I had not spoken so; but till you tell me what it is, what opinion can I form?’

‘If you had been willing to share that with me from the beginning, maybe I wouldn’t have said that; but until you tell me what it is, what opinion can I form?’

‘This is it,’ answered the Countess, still sobbing. ‘Yesterday I was the happiest woman on the face of the earth, living in love and confidence with the best husband with whom woman was ever blessed. So strong was my confidence that I hesitated not to trifle with this great happiness. My brother came home from the wars, a stranger to my husband. “Let him see you kiss me,” I said, “it will seem so strange that we will make him laugh heartily afterwards.” He saw him kiss me, but waited for no explanation. He went away without a word, as indeed (fool that I was) I well deserved, and I journey on till I overtake him.’

“This is it,” the Countess replied, still crying. “Yesterday, I was the happiest woman in the world, living in love and trust with the best husband anyone could ask for. I was so confident that I didn’t think twice about risking this incredible happiness. My brother came home from the wars, not knowing my husband. ‘Let him see you kiss me,’ I said, ‘it will seem so strange that we’ll all laugh heartily afterward.’ He saw him kiss me but didn’t stick around for an explanation. He walked away without a word, and honestly (how foolish I was) I completely deserved it, and now I’m on my way to catch up with him.”

The Count had risen to his feet, and had torn the veil from her face.

The Count stood up and pulled the veil off her face.

‘It can be no other but my own!’ he exclaimed, in a voice from which sorrow being banished his own tones sounded forth, and clasped her in his arms.

‘It can only be my own!’ he exclaimed, his voice filled with emotion as he pushed aside his sorrow, and wrapped her in his arms.

1 ‘Una Camera di Locanda.’ ↑

1 'A Room at the Inn.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Combinazione.’ ↑

2 'Combination.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

3 ‘Credenziere.’ ↑

3 ‘Credenza.’ __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

4 ‘Un ora di notte’; an hour after the evening ‘Ave.’ ↑

4 ‘1 AM’; an hour after the evening ‘Hey.’ ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

THE COUNTESS’S CAT.1

There was a very rich Countess who was a widow and lived all alone, with no companion but only a cat, after her husband died. The greatest care was taken of this cat, and every day a chicken was boiled on purpose for him.

There was a wealthy Countess who was a widow and lived all alone, with only a cat for company after her husband passed away. Great care was taken of this cat, and every day a chicken was boiled just for him.

One day the Countessa went out to spend the day at a [420]friend’s villa in the Campagna, and she said to the waiting woman:

One day, the Countess went out to spend the day at a [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]friend's villa in the countryside, and she said to the maid:

‘Mind the cat has his chicken just the same as if I were at home.’

‘Mind the cat has his chicken just like if I were at home.’

‘Yes! Signora Countessa, leave that to me,’ answered the woman; but the Countess was no sooner gone out than she said to the man-servant:

‘Yes! Countess, leave that to me,’ answered the woman; but as soon as the Countess left, she said to the man-servant:

‘The cat has the chicken every day; suppose we have it to-day?’

‘The cat eats chicken every day; what if we have it today?’

The man said, ‘To be sure!’ and they ate the chicken themselves, giving the cat only the inside; but they threw the bones down in the usual corner, to make it appear as if he had eaten the whole chicken.

The man said, ‘Absolutely!’ and they ate the chicken themselves, giving the cat only the insides; but they tossed the bones down in the usual spot to make it look like he had eaten the entire chicken.

The cat said nothing, but looked on with great eyes, full of meaning.2

The cat didn't say anything but stared with wide eyes, full of meaning.2

When the Countess came back that evening the cat, instead of going out to meet her as he always did, remained still in his place and said nothing.

When the Countess came back that evening, the cat, instead of going out to greet her like he always did, stayed where he was and said nothing.

‘What’s the matter with the cat? Hasn’t he had his chicken?’ asked the Countess, immediately.

‘What’s wrong with the cat? Hasn’t he eaten his chicken?’ asked the Countess, immediately.

‘Yes! Signora Countessa,’ answered the cameriera. ‘See, there are the bones on the floor, where he always leaves them.’

‘Yes! Countess,’ the maid replied. ‘Look, there are the bones on the floor, where he always leaves them.’

The Countessa could not deny the testimony of her eyes, so she said nothing more but went up to bed.

The Countess couldn't argue with what she saw, so she stayed quiet and went to bed.

The cat followed her as he always did, for he slept on her bed; but he followed at a distance, without purring or rubbing himself against her. The Countess saw something was wrong, but she didn’t know what to make of it, and went to bed as usual.

The cat followed her like he always did since he slept on her bed, but he kept his distance this time, not purring or rubbing up against her. The Countess noticed something was off, but she couldn’t figure it out, so she went to bed like usual.

That night the cat throttled3 the Countess, and killed her.

That night the cat strangled3 the Countess and killed her.

The cat is very intelligent in his own interest, but he is a traitor.

The cat is really smart when it comes to his own needs, but he’s a traitor.

‘It would have been more intelligent,’ I observed, ‘if he had throttled the waiting woman in this instance.’ [421]

‘It would have been smarter,’ I noted, ‘if he had choked the woman waiting in this situation.’ [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

Not at all; the cat’s reasoning was this:—If thou hadst not gone out and left me to the mercy of menials, this had not happened; therefore it was thou who hadst to die.

Not at all; the cat’s reasoning was this:—If you hadn’t gone out and left me at the mercy of servants, this wouldn’t have happened; therefore it was you who had to die.

This is quite true, for cats are always traitors. Dogs are faithful, cats are traitors.4

This is definitely true, because cats are always untrustworthy. Dogs are loyal, while cats are disloyal.4

[Perhaps this tale would have been hardly worth printing, but that the selfsame story was told me as a positive fact by an Irishman, who could not have come across the Italian story. In the Irish version it was its master the cat killed; in the wording of the narrator he ‘cut his throat.’]

[Perhaps this story wouldn’t have been worth sharing, but I heard the same tale as a factual account from an Irishman, who couldn’t have known the Italian version. In the Irish telling, it was the master that the cat killed; according to the narrator, he ‘cut his throat.’]

1 ‘Il Gatto della Contessa.’ ↑

1 'The Countess's Cat.' __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

2 ‘Il gatto non dissi niente, ma guardava con certi occhi grossi, grossi, fissi.’ ↑

2 "The cat didn't say anything, but looked with those big, big, staring eyes." ↑

3 ‘Strozzato,’ throttled; killed by wounding the strozzo, throat. ↑

3 ‘Strozzato,’ choked; killed by injuring the strozzo, throat. ↑

4 ‘E questo è un fatto vero, sa; perchè il gatto è traditore sempre. Il cane e fedele si, ma il gatto è traditore.’ ↑

4 "And this is a true fact, you know; because the cat is always a traitor. The dog is faithful, yes, but the cat is a traitor." ↑

[__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

WHY CATS AND DOGS ALWAYS QUARREL.1

‘Why do dogs and cats always fight, papa?’ we used to say.

‘Why do dogs and cats always fight, Dad?’ we used to ask.

And he used to answer, ‘I’ll tell you why;’ and we all stood round listening.

And he would say, “I’ll tell you why;” and we all gathered around to listen.

‘Once on a time dogs and cats were very good friends, and when the dogs went out of town they left their cards on the cats, and when the cats went out of town they left their cards on the dogs.’

‘Once upon a time, dogs and cats were very good friends, and when the dogs went out of town, they left their cards with the cats, and when the cats went out of town, they left their cards with the dogs.’

And we all sat round and listened and laughed.

And we all gathered around and listened and laughed.

‘Once the dogs all went out of town and left their cards as usual on the cats; but they were a long time gone, for they were gone on a rat-hunt, and killed all the rats. When the cats heard that the dogs had taken to killing rats, they were furious against the dogs, and lay in wait for them and set upon them. [422]

‘Once the dogs went out of town and left their cards as usual for the cats; but they were gone for a long time because they were on a rat-hunt and killed all the rats. When the cats heard that the dogs had started killing rats, they were furious with the dogs, and they waited for them and attacked them. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

‘“Set upon the dogs! at them! give it them!”’2 shouted the cats, as they flew at them; and from that time to this, dogs and cats never meet without fighting.

‘“Attack the dogs! Go get them! Give it to them!”’2 shouted the cats as they charged at them; and ever since that time, dogs and cats have never encountered each other without fighting.

And we all stood round and laughed fit to split our sides.

And we all stood around and laughed until we thought we’d burst.

[Scheible, Schaltjahr I., 375, gives a more humorous version of this.]

[Scheible, Schaltjahr I., 375, offers a funnier take on this.]

1 ‘Perchè litigano sempre i Cani ed i Gatti.’ ↑

1 'Why do Dogs and Cats always fight?' ↑

2 ‘Dàlli! Dàlli ai cani!’ ↑

2 "Hurry! Hurry to the dogs!" __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

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THE CATS WHO MADE THEIR MASTER RICH.

‘Ah! as to cats and mice, listen and I’ll tell you something worth hearing!

‘Ah! When it comes to cats and mice, listen up and I’ll share something worth your time!’

‘In America, once upon a time, there were no cats. Mice there were in plenty; mice everywhere; not peeping out of holes now and then, but infesting everything, swarming over every room; and when a family sat down to meals, the mice rushed upon the table and disputed the victuals with them.

‘In America, a long time ago, there were no cats. There were plenty of mice; mice everywhere; not just popping out of holes occasionally, but infesting everything, swarming over every room. And when a family sat down for meals, the mice rushed onto the table and fought them for their food.

‘Then one thought of a plan; he freighted three ships; full, full of cats, and off to America with them. There he sold them for their weight in gold and more, and whiff! the mice were swept away, and he made a great fortune. A great fortune, all out of cats!’

‘Then he came up with a plan; he loaded three ships, all filled with cats, and sent them off to America. There, he sold them for their weight in gold and more, and whiff! the mice were gone, and he made a huge fortune. A huge fortune, all from cats!’

[In the ‘Russian Folktales’ is also a version of the Whittington story, p. 43.] [423]

[In the ‘Russian Folktales’ there's also a version of the Whittington story, p. 43.] [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

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APPENDICES.

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APPENDIX A. p. xx.

I have done injustice to the part assigned to the horse in French legendary tales by omitting mention of it in this place. Charles Louandre (‘Chefs-d’œuvre des conteurs Français,’ Paris, 1873, note to pp. 43–4) calls special attention to it and gives us the name of many horses famous in the old French minstrelsy. There was ‘Valentin,’ the horse of Roland; ‘Tencedor, of Charlemagne;’ ‘Barbamouche, swifter than the swallow;’ and many others. But there is no name to the charger in the graceful ‘Lai de Graélent,’ by Marie de France, whose fidelity is the occasion of his Note. I ought not to have forgotten either, the honours paid him in the Spanish Romances, of which the brave ‘Black Charger of Hernando’ (‘Patrañas’) may serve as the type.

I have done a disservice to the role of the horse in French legendary tales by not mentioning it here. Charles Louandre (‘Masterpieces of French storytelling,’ Paris, 1873, note to pp. 43–4) highlights this and provides the names of several horses famous in old French stories. There was ‘Valentin,’ the horse of Roland; ‘Tencedor,’ of Charlemagne; ‘Barbamouche, swifter than the swallow;’ and many others. However, there is no name for the steed in the elegant ‘Lai de Graélent,’ by Marie de France, whose loyalty is the reason for his mention. I should not have overlooked the honors given to him in the Spanish Romances, of which the brave ‘Black Charger of Hernando’ (‘Patrañas’) serves as a prime example.

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APPENDIX B.

My attention has been called, while these sheets have been passing through the press, to a collection which enables me to subjoin some notes of analogies between the Folktales of France and those in the text. It is entitled ‘Recueil des Contes des Fées,’ Geneva, 1718; published without author’s name, and the stories are much less artificially treated than in the better known collections of the Comtesse d’Aulnoy, de Caylus, Perrault, Madame de Villeneuve, &c.

My attention has been drawn, while these pages have been going through printing, to a collection that allows me to add some notes on the similarities between the folktales of France and those in the text. It's called ‘Recueil des Contes des Fées,’ Geneva, 1718; published anonymously, and the stories are much less elaborately presented than in the more well-known collections by the Comtesse d’Aulnoy, de Caylus, Perrault, Madame de Villeneuve, etc.

Monteil (‘Traité de Matériaux-Manuscrits,’ Paris, 1835) mentions a MS. in his possession, of the year 1618, entitled ‘Contes des Fées,’ from which Perrault, the least artificial of the French collectors, seems to have drawn his tales. Mayer (‘Discours [426]sur l’Origine des Contes des Fées,’ Geneva and Paris, 1786) ascribes to him the revival of the knowledge of the existence of popular fairy tales and mediæval romances, and many of our own Nursery Rimes (notably ‘Puss in Boots’) are simply translated from his versions.

Monteil (‘Materials Manuscripts Treaty,’ Paris, 1835) mentions a manuscript he has from the year 1618, titled ‘Contes des Fées,’ which Perrault, the least pretentious of the French collectors, seems to have used for his stories. Mayer (‘Speech [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] on the Origin of Fairy Tales,’ Geneva and Paris, 1786) credits him with reviving the awareness of popular fairy tales and medieval romances, and many of our own nursery rhymes (especially ‘Puss in Boots’) are simply translations of his versions.

‘Prince Rainbow’ (‘Le Prince Arc-en-Ciel’), the fifth story in the ‘Recueil,’ contains similar incidents with those in ‘Filagranata,’ in combination with the introduction of the opening of a nut in place of one of the oranges in my next story. (I have another Roman story in MS. which hinges on the opening of three nuts in the place of three oranges.) In the French story the ire of the bad fairy is excited against the princess who holds the place of Filagranata, by her receiving the name of ‘Fairer-than-Fairies’ (‘Plus-belle-que-Fée’). The bad fairy Lagrée, who is so old that she has only one tooth and one eye, carries her off to an underground palace, where her task is to tend a fire, instead of feeding pigeons. Here she is courted by a prince transformed into a rainbow, whom she finds of course always seated in the sunshine on a fountain. While talking to him, she lets her fire out. Lagrée sends her to get fresh fire from the giant Locrinos, devourer of maidens; the giant’s wife takes compassion on her, and gives her the fire, and with it a stone to use in time of distress. Lagrée, in fury at her success, sends away Prince Rainbow. Fairer-than-Fairies escapes, and goes in search of him, taking with her the stone, a branch of myrtle, and her cat and dog; when she is weary with wandering, the stone provides her a cave to sleep in, the dog keeping guard. Lagrée pursues her; the dog attacks her, and throws her down, so that she breaks her only tooth, and the princess escapes for another stage. Lagrée overtakes her again as she is sleeping in a bower the branch of myrtle has raised for her. The cat makes the defence this time, scratching out her only eye, finally disabling her. After this, Fairer-than-Fairies is entertained in a white and green palace by a white and green lady, who gives her a nut, to be used only in direst need. After another year’s wanderings, another white and green lady gives her a pomegranate; at the end of another year, another gives her a crystal vial. Afterwards she comes to a silver palace, suspended by silver chains from four trees. She then breaks the nut; a Swiss appears and admits her, and she finds [427]Prince Rainbow in an enchanted sleep, answering to the kiss of forgetfulness in ‘Filagranata.’ Fairer-than-Fairies breaks open the pomegranate, all the pips become violins, whose melody makes the prince open his eyes. She breaks open the crystal flask, and a Seiren appears, who sings the tale of all the princess has endured. The prince wakes—the spell is ended. The silver palace turns into a real and inhabited one. They embrace, and are married.

‘Prince Rainbow’ (‘The Rainbow Prince’), the fifth story in the ‘Recueil,’ features situations similar to those in ‘Filagranata,’ along with the introduction of a nut instead of one of the oranges in my next story. (I have another Roman story in manuscript that revolves around the opening of three nuts in place of three oranges.) In the French tale, the bad fairy's anger is directed at the princess who takes Filagranata's place after she is given the name ‘Fairer-than-Fairies’ (‘Better-than-Fairy’). The wicked fairy Lagrée, who is so old that she has only one tooth and one eye, abducts her to an underground palace, where she must tend a fire instead of feeding pigeons. Here, she is courted by a prince turned into a rainbow, whom she finds sitting in the sunshine by a fountain. While talking to him, she accidentally lets her fire go out. Lagrée sends her to fetch fresh fire from the giant Locrinos, who devours maidens; however, the giant’s wife takes pity on her and gives her the fire along with a stone to use in emergencies. Furious at her success, Lagrée sends away Prince Rainbow. Fairer-than-Fairies escapes and goes in search of him, bringing the stone, a myrtle branch, and her cat and dog. When she grows tired from wandering, the stone provides her with a cave to rest in, while the dog keeps watch. Lagrée tracks her down; the dog attacks her, knocking her down and breaking her only tooth, allowing the princess to escape for now. Lagrée catches up with her again while she is sleeping in a bower that the myrtle branch has created for her. This time the cat defends her, scratching out Lagrée’s only eye and ultimately rendering her powerless. After this, Fairer-than-Fairies is welcomed in a white and green palace by a white and green lady, who gives her a nut to use only in the direst need. After another year of wandering, a different white and green lady gives her a pomegranate; at the end of yet another year, another lady gives her a crystal vial. Eventually, she arrives at a silver palace, hanging from four trees by silver chains. She then breaks open the nut; a Swiss appears and lets her in, where she discovers [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]Prince Rainbow in an enchanted sleep, responding to the kiss of forgetfulness found in ‘Filagranata.’ Fairer-than-Fairies breaks the pomegranate, and all the seeds turn into violins, whose music causes the prince to open his eyes. She breaks the crystal flask, and a Siren appears, singing the tale of everything the princess has endured. The prince awakens—the spell is broken. The silver palace transforms into a real and inhabited one. They embrace and marry.

‘Incarnat, Blanc et Noir,’ in the same ‘Recueil,’ is very similar to the ‘Three Love-Oranges.’ A prince walking out in the snow sees a crow. He tries his skill at bringing him down, and the black bird falls bleeding on the white snow. The sight makes him desire a maiden who combines these three tints. Suddenly a voice tells him to go to the ‘Kingdom of Marvels,’ and that there he will find a tree with splendid apples (they are not expressly said to be golden). He is to take three, and not to open them till he reaches home. Curiosity overcomes him by the way; he opens one, and a beautiful maiden appears; before he can embrace her she disappears. Afterwards, his homeward travels lead him on the sea; the desire to open one of the apples again overcomes him, but though he orders the vessel to be closely covered down all over, the second maiden disappears like the first. He only opens the third on reaching home, and then there comes to him a maiden exactly such as he desired, whom he marries. Afterwards he goes to the wars; and the mother-in-law, who hated her all along, kills her, and throws her body in the castle moat, and substitutes another woman, a creature of her own. The prince expresses his surprise, but she assures him the different appearance is only the effect of a spell. The prince, however, pines after his own maiden. One day he sees swimming in the castle moat a fish with red, white, and black scales, which he spends all his time in gazing at. The false wife pretends she has an irrepressible desire to eat that particular fish; she is in a delicate state of health, and he cannot refuse her. After that a tree springs up suddenly, which once more presents the three colours. The false wife (inspired by the mother-in-law) demands that it shall be cut down and burnt. He cannot refuse her. Finally, a palace, built of rubies, pearls, and jet, suddenly appears by the side of his own. By unheard-of exertion he gets into it, and there [428]finds in a cabinet his own maiden, whom he recalls to his side.

‘Incarnat, Blanc et Noir,’ in the same ‘Recueil,’ is very similar to the ‘Three Love-Oranges.’ A prince walking in the snow sees a crow. He tries to shoot it down, and the black bird falls, bleeding on the white snow. This sight makes him long for a maiden who embodies these three colors. Suddenly, a voice tells him to go to the ‘Kingdom of Marvels,’ where he will find a tree with magnificent apples (they aren’t specifically said to be golden). He is to take three and not to open them until he gets home. Curiosity gets the better of him on the way; he opens one, and a beautiful maiden appears; before he can embrace her, she disappears. Later, his journey home takes him over the sea; his urge to open another apple returns, but even though he orders the ship to be tightly covered, the second maiden vanishes just like the first. He only opens the third one when he gets home, and then he meets a maiden exactly as he desired, and he marries her. Afterward, he goes to war; his mother-in-law, who always hated her, kills her and throws her body into the castle moat, replacing her with another woman, one of her choosing. The prince is surprised, but she assures him the different appearance is just the result of a spell. However, the prince longs for his true maiden. One day, he sees a fish swimming in the castle moat with red, white, and black scales, and he spends all his time watching it. The false wife pretends she has an irresistible craving to eat that particular fish; she’s in a weak state of health, and he can’t refuse her. After that, a tree suddenly appears that once again displays the three colors. The false wife (inspired by her mother) demands it be cut down and burned. He cannot refuse her. Finally, a palace made of rubies, pearls, and jet suddenly appears next to his. With extraordinary effort, he enters it, and there [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] finds his own maiden, whom he calls back to his side.

Another (‘Le Buisson d’Épines fleuries’) contains noticeable analogies with both the group of ‘The Pot of Marjoram,’ and that of ‘Maria Wood.’ The mother of a fairy princess is led to fill the stepmother’s part towards her, by her having so lavishly distributed the ointment of perpetual youth, which had been entrusted to her keeping, that none is left for the queen’s own use when she desires to have recourse to it to regain the lost affections of her husband, an earthly king. The governess comes to the aid of the princess, and they fly away together with tents and all requisites of the journey stowed away in pearls for travelling boxes (some analogy, perhaps, with the ‘Candeliera’). Their adventures bring them across Prince Zelindor, who marries the princess. The vengeance of the fairy mother pursues them in various shapes, till at last she turns Zelindor into a Sweet Briar. The princess is attracted towards the plant, and tends it with the greatest care, without knowing it is her husband. The enraged fairy queen orders her to pluck a branch, and she is obliged to obey. The plant flows with blood, and Zelindor declares she is the cause of his death; at this juncture the husband of the fairy queen, fetched by the benevolent governess, appears. His return reconciles the queen to her daughter; and with an elixir she heals Zelindor’s wounds, and restores him to his bride.

Another (‘The Thorny Bush’) shows clear similarities to both ‘The Pot of Marjoram,’ and ‘Maria Wood.’ The mother of a fairy princess ends up playing the part of the stepmother because she distributed so much of the healing ointment of eternal youth, which she was supposed to guard, that there’s none left for the queen when she needs it to regain her husband’s lost love, who is an earthly king. The governess steps in to help the princess, and they escape together, packing all their travel essentials in pearl-laden boxes (which might have some connection to the ‘Candeliera’). Along their journey, they encounter Prince Zelindor, who marries the princess. However, the vengeful fairy mother follows them in different forms until she ultimately turns Zelindor into a Sweet Briar. The princess grows fond of the plant and takes care of it without realizing it’s her husband. The furious fairy queen commands her to pick a branch, and she has no choice but to comply. The plant oozes blood, and Zelindor reveals she is the reason for his death; at this moment, the fairy queen’s husband, brought by the kind governess, makes his entrance. His return reconciles the queen with her daughter, and with an elixir, she heals Zelindor’s wounds, bringing him back to his bride.

Perrault’s rimed fable of ‘Peau d’Âne’ is much nearer ‘Maria Wood.’ The dying queen binds the king to marry no one who does not surpass her in beauty and understanding. Only their daughter comes up to the mark. Her fairy godmother tells her to ask for the brilliant dresses, and finally for the skin of a gold-coin-producing donkey. The king sacrifices even this. The fairy tells her to put on this skin while she stows her sunbeam dresses, jewels, &c., in a press which she promises shall follow underground wherever she carries her wand. She is made hen-wife in a king’s farmyard, and puts on her brilliant dresses on holidays in her private room. The prince sees her through the keyhole, and falls ill because his parents object to the union. ‘Peau d’Âne’ makes him a cake into which she drops one of her rings. The prince is charmed with the idea of the [429]hand it suggests to him; his malady increases, and this softens his parents. He says he will marry no one but her whom the ring fits, and thus of course ‘Peau d’Âne’ marries him.

Perrault’s rhymed fable of ‘Peau d’Âne’ is much closer to ‘Maria Wood.’ The dying queen forces the king to promise he won't marry anyone who isn’t more beautiful and wise than she is. Only their daughter meets that standard. Her fairy godmother tells her to ask for the stunning dresses, and eventually for the skin of a donkey that produces gold coins. The king sacrifices even that. The fairy advises her to wear this skin while she hides her beautiful dresses, jewels, etc., in a chest that she promises will follow her wherever she goes with her wand. She ends up as a hen-wife on a king’s farm and puts on her beautiful dresses during holidays in her private room. The prince sees her through the keyhole and falls ill because his parents disapprove of the relationship. ‘Peau d’Âne’ bakes him a cake and drops one of her rings into it. The prince is enchanted by the idea of the [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]hand it symbolizes; his illness worsens, which eventually sways his parents. He insists he will marry only the girl the ring fits, and of course, ‘Peau d’Âne’ ends up marrying him.

The counterpart, in Perrault, to the group to which ‘Il Rè Moro’ belongs is a very clever, but somewhat artificially told story, called ‘Kadour.’ Kadour, an exquisitely beautiful princess of Cashmere, is utterly deficient, not in riches, like the chicory-seller’s daughter, but in mind. She comes one day to a hole in the ground, and a monstrous figure comes out of it, and offers her the gift of mind, on condition of marrying him in a year. Without knowing what mind is, she has perceived that all her exceeding beauty has been powerless to attract any of the attention she has seen lavished on others, and she gives a sort of stupid consent. The monster tells her that the gift of mind is to be obtained by simply repeating the words, ‘O Love, who canst inspire all things; if it needs but to love to lose my insipidity, behold I am ready!’

The equivalent story in Perrault's work to the group that ‘Il Rè Moro’ belongs to is a clever, yet somewhat contrived tale called ‘Kadour.’ Kadour, an incredibly beautiful princess from Cashmere, lacks intellect, unlike the daughter of the chicory seller who lacks wealth. One day she encounters a hole in the ground, from which a monstrous figure emerges, offering her the gift of intelligence, on the condition that she marries him in a year. Without understanding what intelligence truly is, she realizes that her extraordinary beauty hasn’t been enough to capture the attention that she has seen others receive, and she gives a sort of foolish agreement. The monster informs her that to gain this gift of mind, she simply needs to repeat the words, ‘O Love, who can inspire all things; if it only takes love to lose my dullness, here I am, ready!’

‘O toi qui peux tout animer,

‘O you who can bring everything to life,

Amour, si pour n’être plus bête

Amour, if only to not be foolish anymore

Il ne faut que savoir aimer,

Il ne faut que savoir aimer,

Je suis prête.’

I'm ready.

In proportion as she repeats these words she is filled with intelligence; but no sooner is she so gifted than everyone appreciates and surrounds her, and she soon falls in love with Arada, the handsomest of her adorers. When the monster returns at the end of the year, and takes her down to his palace through the hole in the earth, she is in great perplexity what decision to make. She perceives that either way she must lose Arada, and says that she cannot give any answer; the monster says he will decide for her, and send her back to her first estate. Her newly-acquired powers, however, give her such loathing of this condition, that she finally prefers retaining her mind even on the terrible condition already propounded. The monster declares himself King of the Gnomes, master of boundless riches, and every kind of luxury and pleasure is lavished on her, as on the chicory-seller, to reconcile her with her situation; but in this case all in vain. She contrives to let Arada know her unhappy position, that she may have the benefit of his sympathy. The gnome-king punishes her by transforming his handsome person [430]into a duplicate of his own, so that Kadour never knows to which of them she is speaking.

As she keeps repeating these words, she becomes smarter. But as soon as she gains this intelligence, everyone notices and crowds around her, and she quickly falls for Arada, the most handsome of her admirers. When the monster returns at the end of the year and takes her down to his palace through a hole in the ground, she feels really confused about what to do. She realizes that no matter what, she will lose Arada, and she states that she can't make a decision. The monster says he’ll decide for her and send her back to her original state. However, her newly gained powers make her dislike this situation so much that she ultimately chooses to keep her mind, even if it means facing the terrible conditions that have been presented. The monster declares himself the King of the Gnomes, a master of unlimited wealth, and tries to surround her with all kinds of luxury and pleasure to make her feel better about her situation, but it’s all pointless. She finds a way to let Arada know about her miserable situation so she can get his sympathy. The gnome king punishes her by transforming his handsome appearance [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__] into a copy of his own, so that Kadour never knows which one of them she is talking to.

This story is better known under the title of ‘Riquet à la Houpe,’ under which name it has been dramatised; in this, however, the senseless but beautiful princess has the compensatory faculty of rendering handsome her mind-giving but hideous lover, and therefore the happy dénouement is easily worked out. It is also the foundation of ‘Beauty and the Beast;’ and probably springs from the same idea as that embodied in the Ardshi Bordshi story I have given as ‘Who invented Woman,’ in ‘Sagas from the Far East.’

This story is better known by the title ‘Riquet à la Houpe,’ which is how it has been dramatized. In this version, the beautiful but foolish princess has the unexpected ability to make her intelligent yet ugly lover handsome, allowing for a straightforward happy ending. It also serves as the basis for ‘Beauty and the Beast’ and likely comes from the same concept found in the Ardshi Bordshi story I shared as ‘Who Invented Woman’ in ‘Sagas from the Far East.’

A sort of counterpart to the story of ‘Il Rè Moro’ is given under the title of ‘Le Prince Sincer,’ in Gueulette’s ‘Fabliaux, ou Soirées Bretonnes,’ but this series seems to be but a réchauffé of Oriental tales, and not a collection of local traditions, as the name leads one to expect, notwithstanding that he introduces Druids into them. The story I have named forms a link also in some of its details with that in the text called ‘I Satiri.’ Another of the same series, called ‘Le Prince Engageant,’ has some analogy with the ‘Tre Merangoli di Amore’ (The Three Love-Oranges), in a prince finding his bride by giving her a pomegranate while she is transformed as a dragon.

A counterpart to the story of ‘The Black King’ is found under the title of ‘The Sincere Prince’ in Gueulette’s ‘Fabliaux, or Breton Evenings.’ However, this series seems more like a réchauffé of Oriental tales instead of a collection of local traditions, which the title suggests, even though he includes Druids in them. The story I mentioned also connects in some details with the one in the text called ‘I Satire.’ Another story from the same series, titled ‘The Engaging Prince,’ has similarities with the ‘Three Merangoli of Love’ (The Three Love-Oranges), where a prince finds his bride by giving her a pomegranate while she is transformed into a dragon.

In a note to his translation of the ballad of ‘Pérédur ou le Bassin Magique,’ Th. de la Villemarqué1 gives a Breton version of the ‘Three Golden Apples’ story. Pérédur is induced to abandon the state of retirement in which his mother has kept him, after the death of his father and his five brothers, by seeing Owen ride by, ‘seeking the knight who divided the apples at the Court of Arthur.’ Upon this the annotator remarks that the episode here alluded to has not been discovered; but, by way of compensation, he supplies the following, which was told him by a peasant of the diocese of Quimper, who could not read, and had received it by tradition from his forefathers.

In a note to his translation of the ballad of ‘Pérédur or the Magic Basin,’ Th. de la Villemarqué1 provides a Breton version of the ‘Three Golden Apples’ story. Pérédur is persuaded to leave the isolated life his mother has kept him in since the death of his father and five brothers when he sees Owen riding by, ‘looking for the knight who divided the apples at King Arthur's Court.’ The annotator notes that the mentioned episode has not been found; however, to make up for this, he shares the following story, which he heard from a peasant in the diocese of Quimper, who couldn’t read and learned it through tradition passed down from his ancestors.

King Arthur was holding a feast at Lannion, in Brittany; five other kings assisted at it, with their wives and their suite. [431]Just as dinner is over Merlin appears, and hands three golden apples to the king, and says they are to be adjudged to the three most beautiful women. There is a great commotion, and blood is about to flow in the dispute, when an unknown knight advances into the hall, mounted on a black charger with so luxuriant a mane that it envelops both him and his rider. The cause of dispute is referred to him for arbitration. He takes up the three apples, and compares their colour to the hair of the five queens, and their perfume to the ladies’ breath; but settles the competition, like ‘the Gold-Spitting Prince,’ in ‘Sagas from the Far East,’ by disappearing with the prize.

King Arthur was hosting a feast in Lannion, Brittany; five other kings were there, along with their wives and entourage. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]Just as dinner wrapped up, Merlin showed up and handed three golden apples to the king, saying they were to be awarded to the three most beautiful women. A big argument broke out, and it looked like things were about to get violent over the disagreement when an unknown knight rode into the hall on a black horse with such a lush mane that it surrounded both him and his steed. The dispute was presented to him for a decision. He picked up the three apples, comparing their color to the queens' hair and their fragrance to the ladies' breath; but ended the competition, like ‘the Gold-Spitting Prince’ in ‘Sagas from the Far East,’ by vanishing with the prize.

He further quotes, from ‘Myvyrian,’ i. 151, 152, 155, that Merlin was so fond of apples that he devoted a poem to their celebration, and declared he had an orchard with 147 apple-trees of the greatest beauty; their shade was as valued as their fruit, and was confided to the care, not of a dragon, but of a fair maiden, with floating hair and teeth like drops of dew.

He further quotes from 'Myvyrian,' i. 151, 152, 155, that Merlin loved apples so much that he wrote a poem to celebrate them, stating he had an orchard with 147 stunning apple trees; their shade was as cherished as their fruit and was watched over, not by a dragon, but by a beautiful maiden with flowing hair and teeth that sparkled like drops of dew.

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APPENDIX C. p. 195.

It ought to have been remarked under Note 1, that Abelard’s name is spelt Abailard in old French, which brings it nearer the name in the legend.

It should have been noted in Note 1 that Abelard’s name is spelled Abailard in Old French, which makes it closer to the name in the legend.

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APPENDIX D. p. 196.

Cardinal Valerio, Bishop of Verona (in his ‘De Rhetorica Christiana’ cited in Ludovic Lalanne’s ‘Curiosités des Traditions,’ iv. 403–4), has a very ingenious mode, among others, of accounting for the amplification of Legends; he says it was the custom in many monasteries to give the young monks liberty as a sort of exercise and pastime to write variations of the acts of the saints and martyrs, and they exerted their fancy in producing imaginary conversations and incidents of a nature consonant [432]with the original story; that the most ingenious and well-written of these would sometimes be placed among other MSS. in the Library, and would mislead readers in later times.

Cardinal Valerio, Bishop of Verona (in his ‘Christian Rhetoric’ cited in Ludovic Lalanne’s ‘Curiosities of Traditions,’ iv. 403–4), has a clever explanation for how Legends got expanded. He mentions that in many monasteries, it was common for young monks to have the freedom to write different versions of the acts of the saints and martyrs as a form of exercise and entertainment. They used their imagination to create fictional conversations and events that fit well with the original story. The most creative and well-crafted of these would often be included among other manuscripts in the Library, leading future readers to be misled. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

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APPENDIX E. p. 208.

Charles Louandre (‘Chefs-d’œuvre des Conteurs Français,’ Paris, 1873) gives an episode out of the ‘Voyage d’outremer du Comte de Ponthieu’ (a Roman of the thirteenth century), which has curious analogies both with this tale of the Pilgrims, with another Roman story I have in MS., and with that of ‘The Irish Princess’ in ‘Patrañas.’ Adèle de Ponthieu was married to Thiébault de Domart. They go a pilgrimage to S. James of Compostella to pray that they may have heirs. Robbers overcome them by the way, bind Thiébault to a tree, and ill-treat Adèle. As soon as she escapes from them Thiébault calls to her to cut his bonds with his sword; she, judging it better that he should die than live to blush for her, attempts to take his life with the same blow which severs the cord; he foresees her intention and circumvents it. He does not divine her motive, but yet makes no allusion to the matter till they return from their pilgrimage, then he puts it as an A and B case to her father; the father decides such a woman should die. She is put into a barrel and cast into the sea; the barrel is picked up by merchants who sell her to the Sultan, and she becomes the mother of the mother of Saladin. Meantime her father and husband cannot rest for love of her, they go to search the world over for her. A shipwreck makes them the property of the Sultan who makes a present of them to Adèle. She, recognising them, pretends to be a Saracen soothsayer, and by revealing her acquaintance with their previous history, like the injured Queen in ‘The Pilgrims,’ brings them to an expression of penitence and of lasting love for her. She then escapes with them and lives happily with her husband, the Pope prescribing to her a certain penitential rule of life to purge her involuntary infidelity. [433]

Charles Louandre (‘Masterpieces of French Storytellers,’ Paris, 1873) shares a story from the ‘Overseas Journey of the Count of Ponthieu’ (a novel from the thirteenth century) that has interesting similarities to this tale of the Pilgrims, another story I have in manuscript, and ‘The Irish Princess’ in ‘Patrañas.’ Adèle de Ponthieu was married to Thiébault de Domart. They went on a pilgrimage to S. James of Compostella to pray for children. On the way, robbers attacked them, tied Thiébault to a tree, and mistreated Adèle. Once she escaped from them, Thiébault called for her to cut his bonds with his sword. However, she thought it would be better for him to die than to live in shame because of her, so she tried to kill him with the same blow that would free him. He sensed her intention and prevented it. He didn’t understand her reason, but he didn’t mention it until they returned from their pilgrimage. Then, he presented it to her father as a hypothetical situation; the father decided that a woman like that should die. She was put into a barrel and thrown into the sea; merchants found the barrel and sold her to the Sultan, making her the mother of Saladin’s mother. Meanwhile, her father and husband couldn’t find peace for missing her, so they searched the world for her. Their shipwreck led them into the hands of the Sultan, who gifted them to Adèle. She recognized them and pretended to be a Saracen fortune-teller, revealing her knowledge of their past to evoke their remorse and lasting love. She then escaped with them and lived happily with her husband, with the Pope prescribing her a certain penance to atone for her unintentional betrayal. [__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

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APPENDIX F. p. 392.

The centenarian Guillaume Boucher (1506–1606) gives in his ‘Sérées’ a French story (called ‘The Fish-bone’) of a quack doctor favoured by luck, to whom he gives the name of Messire Grillo. Charles Louandre (‘Chefs-d’œuvre des conteurs Français,’ p. 278) points out that doctors hardly ever figure in popular literature before the sixteenth century, though after the Renaissance they became the constant subject of satire; and that thus Molière did little more than collect the jokes at their expense which had been floating during the previous half-century.

The centenarian Guillaume Boucher (1506–1606) presents in his ‘Séries’ a French story (called ‘The Fish-bone’) about a lucky quack doctor named Messire Grillo. Charles Louandre (‘Masterpieces of French storytellers,’ p. 278) notes that doctors rarely appeared in popular literature before the sixteenth century, but after the Renaissance, they became a constant target for satire; thus, Molière basically gathered the jokes at their expense that had been circulating in the previous fifty years.

1 ‘Contes Populaires des anciens Bretons, précédés d’un Essai sur l’origine des Epopées chevaleresques de la Table Ronde.’ Par Th. de la Villemarqué. Paris et Leipzig, 1842. ↑

1 ‘Folk Tales of the Ancient Bretons, followed by an Essay on the Origins of the Chivalric Epics of the Round Table.’ By Th. de la Villemarqué. Paris and Leipzig, 1842. ↑

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Availability

Scans for this book are available from the Internet Archive (copy 1, 2, 3 (UK edition, entitled: The folk-lore of Rome; collected by word of mouth from the people, 1874).

Scans for this book can be found on the Internet Archive (copy 1, 2, 3 (UK edition, titled: The Folk-Lore of Rome; Collected by Word of Mouth from the People, 1874).

Related Open Library catalog page (for source): OL23337764M.

Related Open Library catalog page (for source): OL23337764M.

Related Open Library catalog page (for work): OL5671932W.

Related Open Library catalog page (for work): OL5671932W.

Related WorldCat catalog page: 2192344.

Related WorldCat catalog page: __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.

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  • 2015-04-19 Started.

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Page Source Correction
vi familar familiar
19 d d’
20, 20, 20, 21, 21, 115 Tünder Illona Tündér Ilona
20 Tünder Illona’s Tündér Ilona’s
20, 21 Illona Ilona
20 Illona’s Ilona’s
21 Tünder Tündér
24, 28, 39, 65, 105, 114, 155, 183, 293, 428 [Not in source] ’
24 third fourth
35 un an
111, 352 cortége cortège
115, 150, 160, 214, 238, 294, 388, 397 [Not in source] ‘
115 Tünder Illrua Tündér Ilona
115 [Not in source] ‘The Enchanted Rose-Tree.’
121, 168, 300 [Not in source] .
147, 285, 380, 387, 422 ’ [Deleted]
177 S St
208 .. .]
236 Philippo Filippo
241 , .
244 . [Deleted]
273 he He
289 , [Deleted]
290, 339 ‘ [Deleted]
301 friggittore friggitore
305 Cocorno Cocorni
342 dont don’t
357 [Not in source] a
375 eat ate
403 we has he was
411 musn’t mustn’t

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