Part 12

Then the lady asked the girl if she would enter a monastery, where she would be educated and brought up to live in a noble family in return for her music. The girl replied that she had already a great deal of money and many jewels, but that she would be very glad to be better educated and advanced in life. So she entered the convent, where she was very happy, and the end thereof was that she became betrothed to the young signore, and great preparations were made for the wedding.

Now, the stepmother had but one idea in life, which was that her own daughter should make some great match, and for this purpose she was glad when the second went away, as she hoped, to become a mere vagabond, playing the flute for a living. But when she heard that the girl was very prosperous in a convent in Florence, and had not only been educated like a princess in the best society, but would ere long marry a nobleman, she became mad with rage; and going to a witch, she paid her a great sum to prepare a powder which, if strewed in the path of the bride, would cause her prompt and agonizing pain, and after a time death in the most dreadful suffering. And this was to be laid in the way of the wedding procession. But on that morning the pipe sang:

“Where’er on earth the wind doth blow, All leaves and dust before it go. Evil or good, they fly away Before its breath, as if in play; And so shall it for thee this day, Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, And death to the witch, for so it must Ever happen as ’twas decreed, For death is the pay for an evil deed!”

Now, the bridegroom and all friends had begged the bride to play the flute as she walked in the wedding procession, and she did so, and it seemed to her that it had never played so sweetly. The stepmother was looking on anxiously in the crowd, and when the bride was just coming to the powder in the way, the wicked woman cried:

“Play louder—_louder_!”

The bride, to oblige everyone, blew hard, and a wind came from the pipe which blew all the powder into the stepmother’s eyes and open mouth, and in an instant she gave a cry of agony, and then rolled on the ground, screaming:

“_Il polvore_! I have swallowed the powder!”

And the flute played:

“By thy mother I was slain; A fairy gave me life again. I was killed for jealousy, And all as false as false could be. Now thou art dead and I am free.”

And from that time the pipe played no more. But the young lady married the signore, and all went well with them.

And this was done by Virgil, who was ever benevolent.

* * * * *

The pipe, flute, or whistle, which fascinates all who hear it, is to be found in the traditions of all races, from the story of Orpheus onward; it even forms the plot of what is one of the prettiest tales of the Algonkin Indians, {126} and one which is probably original with them. What is also common to many is the conception of the one unjustly put to death turned into a musical instrument, which by a song betrays the murderer. But what is peculiar to this story is the power of the pipe to blow away enchantment and dissipate the witch-dust laid in the path. This is a very ingenious addition to the conception of the music and voice.

It is to be observed that sometimes rustic performers on the pipe, who have chiefly learned their music in the woods from birds and Nature, sometimes attain to a very fascinating and singular execution, quite unlike that which is heard from the most cultivated and artistic musicians. The celebrated Dr. Justinus Kerner, whom I have heard play, could produce on the Jew’s-harp such results as would be deemed incredible. It struck me as an extraordinary expression of will and character beyond all teaching or imitation.

There are also many learned writers on music who are not aware that the human throat or voice is capable of producing sounds which are not, so to speak, _vocal_, but like those of the musical-box and several wind-instruments. This accomplishment is common among the blacks of the Southern States, and the performances, as I can bear witness, are most extraordinary and amazing. I once mistook the playing of two coloured boys in Nashville for the sound of a somewhat distant hand-organ. Even the twang of the banjo is thus rendered with startling accuracy. It is also true that reed-pipes can be made which, by combining the voice and blowing (as with the _mirliton_), give results which are very little known, but which probably suggested this and other tales in which the flute or pipe speaks. There are not many people who know the bull-roarer save as a boy’s toy—that is to say, a mere flat bit of wood whirled round at the end of a cord—but by modification and combination, this or several of them produce sounds like those of an organ; and when heard by night at a distance, the effect is such as to fairly awe those who are ignorant of its cause. Finally, there is the application by a tube of air to the Æolian harp, etc., so as to produce tunes, which is very remarkable, and as little known as the rest—albeit, a traveller, who found something of the kind among the heathen, avowed his belief that something might be made of it. If people would only find out what resources they all have within themselves, or in very cheap and easily-made instruments, there might be far more music or art in the world than there now is. On which subject the reader may consult a book, written by me, and entitled “The Cheapest Musical Instruments,” etc., now being published by Whittaker and Co., 2, White Hart Street, London.

LA BEGHINA DI AREZZO, OR VIRGIL AND THE SORCERESS.

Beauty, when blent with wickedness, Ne’er yet did faile to bring distresse, A lovely thing that is an evil Is the own daughter of the devil; And what was wicked from the first Unto the ende will be accurst, And sow, I trow, full sinfull seede, As ye may in this story reade!

Once upon a time there was in Arezzo a young woman of rare beauty, though of base condition. This girl showed from her earliest years a very strong character, great and varied talents or gifts, and the outward appearance, at least, of great piety and morality, so that she was always in church or absorbed in thought, which passed for pious meditation, while she never missed early Mass on a single morning.

It came to pass that a young gentleman who was rich, handsome, clever, and of good family, fell in love with her and offered marriage, but this she refused, to the amazement of all, especially her parents. But the girl declared that her disposition to religion made marriage objectionable to her; and indeed at this time she so devoted herself to devotion that she hardly found time to eat. Yet as she did not become a nun, the Aretini, or people of Arezzo, called her the Beghina (Beguine), or Sister of Charity. Yet in doing all this she had ideas of her own, or more fish in her net than the world was aware of, for the peasants for her services and prayers, regarding her as a saint who could work miracles, because she indeed effected many strange things which seemed to them to be Divine, brought her many gifts, including money, all of which she declared would be devoted in future to the Madonna, regarding all which she had a great work in view.

At last her reputation for sanctity spread over all the country, and it was greatly increased when it was reported that so poor a girl had refused to marry a rich young gentleman, so that she was visited by the nobility, among whom she acquired great influence. And as she declared that it was her ambition to build a small church, and with it a home for herself, they, hoping that this would bring many pilgrims and greatly benefit the town, at last offered her thirty thousand crowns wherewith to carry out her pious purposes, which she with thanks and tears gratefully accepted.

The first thing which she did, however, was to build for herself a house, for which there was (secretly) constructed a long subterranean passage which led out to the river. Then she left her parents, saying that for the present she must lead a life of devotion in absolute seclusion. Then it was observed that from time to time young gentlemen were missing, and more than once their bodies were found floating in the river below the house of La Beghina, yet so great was her reputation for sanctity that no one connected their loss with her name.

So years passed by. But there was one who put no faith in her piety, and this was the signore whom she had refused, and with whom love for her had been succeeded by a bitter love of revenge, and by constant observation and inquiry he found out several things which greatly confirmed his suspicions. The first of these was the discovery of the bodies in the river; and being resolved to find out all the secrets of her house, he visited the mason who had built it, saying that he wished to erect a mansion for himself, and as he greatly admired that of La Beghina, would like to have one exactly like it. To which the old man replied that he was willing, but as every person who built a house kept certain details a secret to secure the safety of persons or property in certain emergencies, he must be excused if he withheld certain particulars. But the young signore replied that he had set his heart on having just such a house in every respect; that he himself wished to conceal all secrets, and, finally, that he would pay a round sum extra to have his desire fulfilled. This was an argument which the mason could not resist, and so explained to his patron every detail of the building, which made more than one mystery clear to him. And having learned the secret of the underground passage which led to the river, he began to watch it by night with great care; and found that the exit by the river was by a stone door, which was so artfully concealed in a rock by bushes that it was hardly perceptible.

One night, when it was very dark, the Signore Primo, for such was his name, being on the watch, heard a noise and saw the door open. Then there appeared the Beghina, bearing or dragging a long package or bundle—_un involto_—which she let fall into the flood. And at this sight the signore could not restrain a cry of rage, understanding it all, whereat La Beghina fled in terror into the passage, leaving the door unfastened behind her. But the young man, unheeding her, cast himself headlong into the river after the bundle, which he succeeded in bringing to land, and on opening it found the body of a young gentleman of his acquaintance, who was not, however, quite dead, as he had been merely heavily drugged, and who with care was restored to life. And truly he had a strange tale to tell, how he had been inveigled mysteriously and blindfolded, and introduced to some unknown house where there was a handsome woman, who, after he had made love with her, drugged and robbed him, after which he became unconscious.

The Signore Primo conveyed his friend to his own home, and after caring for his comfort and earnestly recommending him to keep the whole matter a secret, went back to the stone door, and finding it open, and having already learned how the house was built, he entered, and concealed himself where he could watch the mistress.

Early in the morning there came an elderly lady, who with many tears and in great emotion told the Beghina that she had a son gone to the war, and was in great fear lest he should be slain, and that she had prayed to the Virgin that he might return safe and sound; and that if the Beghina by her piety would bring this to pass, she would at once give her fifty gold crowns, and a very much larger sum in case her son should come to her again soon and well. To which La Beghina replied that she could go home with a happy heart, for in a few days she should have her son with her. So the lady departed.

Then the Beghina went into a secret room [but the Signore Primo continued to follow and observe her] and taking a pack of cards and a chain, she threw them against the wall and beat on the ground, saying:

“Diavoli tutti che siete nell’ inferno! Scatenatevi, e damme portatevi, Un comando Vi voglio dare Fino alla cittá Dov’é la guerra dovete andare, E salvare Il figlio della signora; Che pochanzi damme e venuta E portatelo subito a casa sua, In carne anima ed ossa, Se questa grazia mi farete L’anima di quel giovane l’avrete!”

“All ye devils who are in hell, Loosen your chains, and come at once to me! I give you a command— Go to the city where the war is waged, And save the life of the son Of the lady who came to me of late, And bear him quickly to her in her home! Bear him in flesh, soul and bones! If ye do me this favour, Ye shall have the soul of that youth!”

And when this was sung many devils appeared and saluted her as a queen.

The Signore Primo was indeed amazed and terrified, for now he realized that the Beghina was worse than he had supposed, or a witch of the most malignant kind. But he left the place, and going to the lady, told her all he had witnessed. Then she in great terror fainted, and when restored to life declared that, if anyone could save the soul of her son, he should have all her fortune.

Then the Signore Primo told her that if anyone could defeat the evil witch it was a great magician who by lucky chance was in Arezzo, and that she should seek him forthwith. This great magician was no other than Virgil. And as soon as the lady appeared, Virgil said:

“I know why thou art come.”

Then he led her to the form of an angel clad in a rose-coloured garb, and, kneeling before it, said:

“O tu angelo del paradiso! Ma benche puro e innocente sei stato In questa terra confinata Per salvare tua madre de suoi peccati, Ma anche nel altro mondo Ne fa sempre di peggio, E per questo sarai liberato te E confinata nel tuo posto, La compagna e complice Di tua madre la Beghina La Beghina di Arezzo. Vai tu angelo beato! Da l’angelo custode! E dilli che invochi Lo spirito che di la ha piu comando, E potenza di volere salvare L’anima di quel giovane, Che la Beghina le ha venduta E cosi tu tu sarai in pace!”

“Oh, thou angel of Paradise! Yet who, though pure and ever innocent, Hast been enchanted on this earth (Confined in the form which thou wearest), To save thy mother for her sins; Yet even in another world She will ever be worse. Therefore thou shalt now be freed, And thy mother and her accomplice Be enchanted in thy place. The Beghina of Arezzo, Go, thou blessed angel, To the angel who guards thee! Bid him invoke the spirit who has most power To save the soul of that youth Whom the Beghina has sold; Thus shalt thou be in peace.”

At that instant there was heard a clap of thunder, the sound of a roaring storm, and there fell down before them two human beings like two corpses, yet not dead, and these were La Beghina and her companion witch.

Then there entered a grand sun-ray, which flashed in light upon the angel whom Virgil had summoned. And it said:

“The youth is saved, and whoever doeth good shall find good even in another world. Farewell; I too am saved!”

Then the Beghina and her companion began to spit fire and flame, and they were condemned to wander for ever, without resting, from one town to another, ever possessed with a mad desire to do evil, but without the ability, for Virgil had taken the power from them.

* * * * *

This story seemed to me in the original, after more than one reading, so confused and high-flown, that I was on the point of rejecting it, when a friend who had also perused it persuaded me that, under all its dialectic mis-spellings, barbarous divisions of words, and manifest omissions (as, for instance, what became of the Sieur Buridan of the Italian Tour de Nesle, who was so nearly drowned), there was a legend which was manifestly the mangled version of a far better original. Therefore I have translated it very faithfully, and would specify that there was from me no suggestion or hint of any kind, but that it is entirely of the people.

Firstly, it may be observed that the long-continued, deliberately-contrived hypocrisy of the Beghina, as well as the Red Indian-like vindictiveness of the hero, is perfectly Italian or natural. The construction of secret passages and hiding-places in buildings is almost common even to-day. The idea of a holy spirit who undergoes a penance, _confinata_, or enchanted and imprisoned in a statue to redeem her mother, is also finely conceived, as is the final statement that the Beghina and her mysterious accomplice, who is so abruptly introduced, are condemned to wander for ever, tormented with a desire to do evil which they are unable to satisfy.

The Beghina is an incarnation of hypocrisy, deceit, lust and treachery. The four symbols for these were the serpent, wren, chameleon, and goose—the latter because a certain Athenian named Lampon was wont to swear “by the goose!” and then break his oath. Possibly the origin of the saying “He is sound upon the goose” is derived from this.

But I sometimes think that to decide between tradition or borrowing and independent creation is beyond the folklore of the present day.

THE SPIRIT OF THE SNOW OF COLLE ALTO. {134}

“And hence, O virgin mother mild, Though plenteous flowers around thee blow, Not only from the dreary strife Of winter, but the storms of life, Thee have thy votaries aptly styled Our Lady of the Snow.”

WORDSWORTH: _Tour on the Continent_.

Once in the olden time, in Colle Alto, the snow fell in one night many yards in depth, and the people were astonished and frightened when they awoke in the morning at beholding it spreading far and wide. Many tried to shovel it away, but were discouraged, because, as they removed it, as much came in its place, so that at last they all remained at home, for no one could pass through the snow, and they were afraid of being buried in it.

But the poor, who had but scant provision in their homes, suffered from hunger. And among these was a good man to whom his five children pitifully cried:

“_Babbo-il pane_!”—Papa, give us bread!

And he replied:

“My children weep, and I must risk my life to save them.” And looking out, he cried unthinkingly:

“And yet the snow is very beautiful! O Spirit of the Snow—no mortal knows How beautiful thou art. Be kind to us!”

As he said this there appeared before the window, and then among them, a lady of marvellous beauty and dazzling brightness, all clad in white, who said:

“What wilt thou have, since thou hast invoked me?”

“Lady,” replied the astonished peasant, “I know not who thou art, nor did I call thee!”

“Yes; in thy speech thou didst pronounce my name in invocation, and to those who do that, and deserve it, I give my aid. Follow me!”

The poor man was surprised and bewildered, but he followed, while trembling, the lady.

And she spoke in a voice which was heard in every house far and near in Colle Alto:

“Let him who will come forth without fear, for this good man hath opened unto you the way. But it is only the poor who can do this, because, while they have suffered and starved in their homes, not one of the rich who dwell here have made any effort to relieve the suffering, therefore none of them shall come forth till the snow is gone.”

Then all the poor folk found that they could walk upon the snow, {135} which was a pleasure, but the gentlefolk could not stir a step out of doors till it melted. And it vexed them sorely to stand at their windows and see women and children running merrily over the snow, so that some of them cursed their wealth, and wished that they were of the poor and free.

For fifteen days not a flake of snow disappeared, and then all at once it went away, and the poor, on opening their windows in the morning, found the sun shining, and a warm breeze blowing, which was scented as with roses, and the streets and roofs all as clean as if new. Then all the poor gathered every man a stone, and meeting in one place, they there built a little church (_chiesina_), and called it the Chapel of the Goddess of the Snow, and adored her as if she had been the Madonna or a saint.

Then for some time, as usually happens, there was great enthusiasm—_vie un gran fanatismo_—and then again all was gradually forgotten. So with the Goddess of the Snow: as years went by people talked about her less and less, and she was even ridiculed by those who were of evil hearts and souls, such as abuse and ill-treat their benefactors—as was shown by a certain waggoner, who found himself one day many miles afar from any house, when snow began to fall. And with it he began to curse, so as to shock even a sinner; whereupon it drifted round him so deeply that he with his waggon could get no further. And so he kept on blaspheming. His poor starved horses looked at him with meaning, as if calling his attention, and then cast their glances to the wall or a shrine, whereon was depicted an image of the Goddess of the Snow, as if begging him to notice or to appeal to it. And the wretch beholding it, swore worse than ever, saying that she was an accursed (witch).

He had not time to pronounce the word ere he sank down (into the snow), so that only his head remained uncovered. And his horses also were in the same place, but a warm wind began to blow. And so the man remained fast, freezing and starving, for three days, but it did not make him repent, and he swore more than ever.

Then, on the third day, Virgil, the great magician, passed by, and was amazed at seeing the horses quietly feeding on grass in the warm sunshine, while a pleasant breeze was blowing, and close by them a man buried to his neck in the snow. And being questioned, the waggoner replied that he was thus buried for blaspheming the Goddess of the Snow.

Virgil asked him if he repented it.

“I will repent,” replied the waggoner, “when I see it proved by a miracle—but in miracles I put no faith.”

“Well,” said Virgil, “pray to the goddess to pardon you. Pray with me thus:

“‘Dea della neve che sei candida, E pura la sera a lume di Luna, Un bel lenzuola candida sembra Distesa sulla terra e sui tetti: Col sol sei splendida e rilucente: E vero ti sprezzai, ma non fu io Fu il diavolo che mia ha tentato. E spero da oggi non mi tentera più, Perche amo essere in grazia tua e come, Stella tu sei bella, sei bianca, Sei candida e pura e sei l’unica Che fra le Dee non faccia altro Che bene, e mai male, bella dea! O dea della Neve tu che sei L’unico mio pensiero, unica speme, Unica mia speranza—da ora avanti, Tutti e tutti miei pensieri Saranna a te rivolti—neppur da casa Mi partero prima di fare a te Una preghiera che possa spiegar Il mio pensier al dar farsi Partir o restar a te domandero, A te domandero che devo far. Tutto questo a te rivago E sempre rivolgero se tu mi perdonerai E questa grazia mi farai Che son pentito assai Di farmi sortir di qui Che tanto sofro—farmi sortir— Sano e salvo che io posso tornar In braccio alla mia famiglia! Che da tre sere mi chiamami desidera!’”