Part 3

“Well,” said they, “we wish to speak to him, then we will settle every thing for him,” and going to the prison, they desired one of the prisoners, who stood at the grating, to tell Matteo that two of his brothers were here, who were come to take him out of prison. The fellow having delivered his message, Grasso came to the little window, and bowed to them. The eldest of the brothers thus addressed him, “thou knowest, Matteo, how often we have admonished thee in respect to thy bad goings on: thou art every day getting in debt with some person or other, and never do you pay any one, because of the money you are spending in gambling, and what not, by which means thou art always left without a penny; and now that thou art in gaol, thou thinkest we have means to pay for thee, who hast consumed, within a short space, a treasure of money in all kinds of follies. Therefore, now we do say, that were it not for our honour’s sake, and on account of thy mother, we would leave thee here long enough, that thou mightest learn better ways; but, for this once, we have determined to pay thy debt and get thee out of this dungeon, but if ever you get into such a scrape again you shall get out of it as you may. In order that we may not be seen coming from hence in the day-time, we will call this evening for thee, when there are fewer people about, in order to prevent folks from knowing our affairs, and being made to blush at this misconduct.” Grasso turned to him that spoke, and with great humility and apparent contrition assured him, that, for the future, he should conduct himself more prudently, and would avoid the follies he had hitherto been guilty of, and never more disgrace them; and prayed them, for heaven’s sake, when the hour should come, that they would call and fetch him away. They promised to do so, and left him. He retired from the window, and said to the judge, “this is droll enough; here have been two brothers of Matteo, of that Matteo which I am changed to, and they have spoken to me as if to Matteo; they have chid me much, and say they will come for me in the evening, and take me from hence; now, if they take me from this place, where in the world shall I go? Home I must not go, for if Grasso should be there, what shall I say? I shall be taken for a maniac; and methinks he must be there, otherwise my mother would have inquired after me; whereas having him with her she does not perceive the mistake.” The judge had much ado to refrain from laughter, and enjoyed the joke; and said to him, “don’t go home, but go with those who call themselves your brothers; see where they take you, and what they do with you.” While they were thus talking, evening drew on, and the brothers came, pretending as if they had settled the debt and costs. The gaol-keeper arose with the keys of the prison in his hand, and said, “which of you is Matteo?” Grasso, stepping forward, said, “‘tis I.” The keeper looked at him, and said, “these, thy brothers, have paid your debt for you; therefore, you are now free;” and having opened the prison door, said, “go thy ways.” Grasso came out, and it being nearly dark, went with the two brothers, who lived at Santa Félicita, at the rising of the hill San Giorgio.

Being arrived at home they went with him into a room on the ground floor. “Remain here,” said they, “till supper time, as we would not let your mother see you, to distress her.” One of them remained with him, and they sat down by the fire before the table already prepared. The other went to the curate of St. Felicita, a good worthy man, and said to him, “I come to you, reverend Sir, with that confidence due to you. It is true we are three brothers, among which is one whose name is Matteo, who, yesterday, on account of some debt, was put into prison, and has taken it so much to heart that we really think he is losing his senses, and going mad. In every thing he appears Matteo as heretofore, except in one thing, that is, he has taken it into his head that he is become another man than Matteo. Did you ever hear of such a thing? he pretends that he is a certain Grasso, a carver, well known to him, who has a shop behind San Giovanni, and his own home is St. Mario del Fiore, and no one can get this out of his noddle; so that we have got him out of prison, brought him here, and put him into a room to conceal him, lest these absurd notions should be made public: therefore, to conclude, we beg of you, for charity sake, that you would kindly come to our house and speak to him, and endeavour to cure him of this extraordinary hallucination: and, indeed, we shall feel under the greatest obligation to you for it.” The priest was a good-natured soul, and answered, that he most willingly would do it, and in speaking with him he said he should soon discover the state of the case, and by talking seriously to him, would get this maggot out of his head. He went home with them, and when arrived where Grasso was, he entered the room when he was busy with his own thoughts. Grasso no sooner saw him, than he rose; the Priest said, “Good night, Matteo.”

“Good night to you,” said Grasso, “what brings you this way?”

“I am come to spend a little time with thee,” said the Priest, and having taken a seat, “sit by me,” said he, “and I will tell thee my mind.” Grasso obeyed him, and sat down. “Now,” said the Priest, “I’ll tell you the reason, Matteo, why I came; it is first, because I have heard, and much it grieves me, that yesterday thou wert taken to prison on account of some debt: and, in the second place, that thou hast felt, and still feelest the greatest distress, which has almost driven thee mad; and among other nonsense of that kind, that thou wilt not believe but that thou art no longer Matteo, and insistest that thou art another person, called Grasso, the carver. Thou art much to blame to let such a trifling thing so distress you as almost to make you mad, and suffer yourself to be laughed at to your great discredit. In truth, Matteo, I will not have you do so, and I do desire that, for the love of me, thou wouldst promise me to give up this folly, and attend to thy business as an honourable man, like other people, by which means thou wilt delight thy brothers; for, if this circumstance were to be known, it would be said thou hadst lost thy intellect, and although thou mightest perfectly recover, yet it would ever be thought that thou wert still subject to fits of insanity, and thou wouldst be a lost man; therefore, to end the matter, determine now to be a man, not a simpleton, and give over all this nonsense; whether thou be Grasso or not Grasso, do as I advise you, for I counsel thee for thy good.” Thus saying, he smiled kindly at him. Grasso having heard how benevolently he admonished him, not doubting but he must be Matteo, answered him directly, “that he certainly was disposed to do whatever he could to obey him,” and he promised that, hereafter, he would exert himself, and endeavour not to think of his being any thing but Matteo, as he was; but that he wanted him to do him a very great favour, if it was possible, and this was, that he wished very much indeed to speak to that said Grasso, so as to convince himself of his own identity: to which the Priest answered, “this is all nonsense and much against your interest; I see thou hast still this whimsy in thy head.”

“What the devil have you to do with the fellow? what do you want with that Grasso, that you should eternally be talking of him? the more you make this thing public the worse it will be for you,” and so much did he talk to him, that he at last prevailed on him to give up the idea of seeing him, and having left him, he told the brothers what he had said and done, and what Matteo had promised: thus taking leave of them, he made the best of his way to the church.

While the Priest had remained with Matteo, Philip of Brunelesco had come secretly into another room. Much to his amusement, he heard the whole account from one of the brothers, of his going out of the prison--their conversation in their way home, and the rest: after which, putting a small powder in a cup, he said to one of the brothers, “contrive, while you are at supper, to give him this in a glass of wine, or any thing else you can, so that he may not notice it. This is an opiate, which will set him so fast asleep, that though you mumbled and tumbled him ever-so-much, he would not wake for several hours; and I will be with you by five o’clock, and we will settle the rest of the business.” The brothers having returned to the room, they sat down with him to supper, and it was already three o’clock. Thus as they supped, they gave him the potion unnoticed by him; the which so perfectly stupified him, that he was unable to keep his eyes open. The brothers then said to him, “Matteo, thou seemest to be dead asleep, thou must have had little sleep last night,” to which Grasso replied, “I protest, in the whole course of my life, I never felt so sleepy; I feel as if I had not slept for a whole month, therefore I think I had better go to bed,” and he began to undress, but scarcely was he able to pull off his shoes and stockings, and get into bed. No sooner did he get into bed but he fell fast asleep, and snored like a pig.

At the hour previously fixed upon, Philipo di Brunelesco entered the room where he was, with six of his companions, and seeing him fast asleep, they took him and placed him on a sort of litter, with all his clothes, and carried him home. No one being at home, as it happened that his mother had not returned, they took him to his bed and placed him in it; they put his clothes where he was in the habit of depositing them, but instead of laying him at the head of the bed, they placed his head at the foot. This being done, they took the key of the shop that was hanging on a nail in the room, and they marched into the shop, where they took the tools he used to work with, and displaced them all from their usual places; turned the sharp edges of the planes topsy-turvy; the hammers on their wrong side; the saws, and, in short, every corner of his shop was ransacked and all things turned upside-down. The shop looked as if the devil and all his imps had been at work. Having locked the shop door, they carried the key to Grasso’s room, and shutting the door after them, each of them went home to bed. Grasso, in a deep sleep from the effect of the opium, slept on the whole night without ever waking. In the morning, at the ringing of Santa Maria del Fiore, the beverage having taken its due effect, Grasso awoke; it being day-light, and recollecting the sound of the bell, he opened his eyes, and seeing the light in the room, and looking about him, he became persuaded he was in his own house, and recollecting all that had happened to him, he was full of astonishment. Remembering where he had gone to bed the night before, and where he then was, he began to think he had been dreaming, or was at that instant in a dream: the one seemed to be the fact at one time, and the next at another.

After a deep sigh from his heart, “Heaven help me,” said he. Getting out of bed, and dressing himself, he took the key of the shop and went to it, and on opening it he saw all the shop in the greatest disorder, at which he stared with wonder. While he was setting them all to rights, and in their proper places, the two brothers of Matteo came in, and finding him so busy, seeming not to know him, one of them said, “Good morning, friend.” Grasso turning round, looked at them, and recognizing them, said, “Good morning, good morning, what are you come for?”

“I will tell you,” said one of them. “You know we have a brother called Matteo, who within a few days, owing to his being imprisoned for debt, has fallen into such a melancholy fit, that it has almost made him mad; and among other foolish things, he has got it into his head that he is not Matteo, but the master of this shop, who it seems is called Grasso. Upon which, having talked to him on the subject, and likewise the priest of the parish, who is a very good sort of man, he had promised the latter he would give up this foolish whim. He went to bed last night very cheerful while we were at supper, but, this morning, without our hearing him, he went out, nor do we know where he is gone; for this reason we came to see if perchance he had come here, or you could tell us if you know any thing of him.” Grasso, while the man was speaking, was bewildered; at last, turning towards them, he said, “I know not what the devil you are talking about, or what all this nonsense means. Matteo has not been here, and if he said he was I, he is a great rascal, and, by my soul, if I meet with him I’ll have a brush at him: I’ll know whether he be I, or I am he. What the deuce has happened within these few days?” and, in a great rage, he took up his mantle, and pulling the shop-door after him, he left them and went towards St. Maria del Fiore, swearing all the way.

The brothers went about their business, and Grasso having entered into the church, walked up and down raging and fuming like a lion, so provoked and perplexed was he at all that had occurred. While he was in this state of confusion, there arrived at Florence one who had been his comrade, and who had been in Hungary, and had there made money by means of the protection of Signor Filippo Scolari, formerly called Spano, one of the citizens of Florence, who was then captain-general in the army of Gismondo, son of Charles, King of Bohemia. This Spano received and protected all those Florentines who had any particular talent, mechanical or intellectual, being a very worthy man who loved his nation very much, and did a great deal of good to his countrymen. This person had as it happened, come to Florence for the purpose of engaging some able and clever mechanics to complete some work he had taken in hand. He had often talked to Grasso on this subject, begging of him to go with him, and telling him that in a very few years he would become rich.. As soon as Grasso saw him coming, he thought of going with him; therefore, walking up to him, he said, “you have often advised me to go to Hungary with you, and I always refused; now, in consequence of a certain event that has befallen me, and on account of some little difference between my mother and me, I am willing to go with you, if you are willing I should, and I must be gone to-morrow morning, for if I delay my departure will be prevented.” The young man said, that he was very glad of this, but that he himself could not set off tomorrow on account of some business, but that he might go forward and wait for him at Bologna, and he would be there in a few days. Grasso was delighted, and having settled matters, he returned to the shop, packed up some of his best tools, his clothes, and a little money he had; this being done he marched off to Borgo St. Lorenzo, and hired a pony as far as Bologna, and the next morning, mounting his palfrey, rode towards that city, and left a letter directed to his mother, in which he desired her to dispose of the shop to her advantage, and said that he was going to Hungary. Thus did Grasso depart from Florence, and, after waiting for his companion at Bologna, they departed for Hungary. There they did so well, that in a very few years they became quite rich considering their station, through the protection of the above-mentioned Spano, who made Grasso an engineer under the name of Manetto of Florence. Grasso returned several times to Florence, and being asked by Philip of Brunelesco to tell his story, he related this tale.

THE DEAD RIDER.