Part 18

Virgil is introduced, I may say, almost incidentally in the following tale, not by any means as _coryphæus_ or hero, as is indeed the case in several other stories, which fact, on due reflection, is of importance, because it indicates unmistakably that he is so well known in popular tradition as to be recognisable even in a minor rôle. It is as when one swears by a saint, or Bacchus—in Florence one hears the latter invoked forty times where a Christian deity is apostrophized once—’tis not to form a portion of the sentence, but to give it force, as Chinese artillerymen, when they fire a ball at an enemy, sometimes grease the mouth of a gun, to increase the loudness of the report and thereby frighten the foe. Which figure of a saint is not that of Saint Malapropos, because, as the reader may note in another tale, Virgil is very seriously described as a santo.

Now to the narrative. _Sancte Virgile_, _ora pro nobis_!

* * * * *

In very ancient times there were few families in Cettardo, and these were all perfectly equal, there being among them neither rich nor poor. They all worked hard in fields or forests for a living, and were like a company of friends or brothers.

And of evenings, when they were not too weary, they met many together in some house, all in love and harmony, to talk about the crops, and their children, or repeat the _rosario_, {203} or discuss their clothing, or cattle, or whatever interested them.

These people were all as one, and had no head or chief. {204a} But one evening a very little girl came out with a thing (_sorti con una cosa_) which astonished all who were present, because the child had received no instruction, and did not know what a school meant. And what she said was this:

“_Babbo_—papa—I wish to tell thee something in presence of all who are here assembled, with all due respect to them, since there are certainly so many here who could with greater propriety set it forth. {204b} Therefore, I trust you will pardon and bear with me, because I am but an infant.”

Then all exclaimed in chorus: “Speak, and we will listen to thee!”

And then the infant, in this fashion, spoke:

“Know that this night I have spoken with a spirit, the _bel Folettino col beretta rossa_—the beautiful fairy with the red cap—and it told me that for this our land we have no name or coat of arms. But the time has come to have that which shall represent the country, and therefore we should choose a chief who will open commerce for us, and found a school so that our young people shall escape from ignorance.”

“Truly, thou hast spoken well!” cried all present. “_Evviva il capo_—hurrah for a chief!—and that chief shall be thy father, dear child!”

“Moreover,” added the good girl, “I will, to show my gratitude, give you the design for the armorial bearings, and in due time tell you all that is needful to be done. All of that will I find out, and also a name for the country.”

“Do so, and deserve our gratitude.”

“I thank you again,” said the girl, “and I will pay attention to the subject, since you show such sympathy.”

The next day she went to herd a flock of sheep, as was her custom; and then, lying down on the ground as wild boars are wont to do, {204c} said:

“Spirito, capo di tutti i spiriti! Re dei ré dei Maghi! Portami qui presenti un hoggetto Che possa servirmi per rappresentare Un arme.”

“Una voce le rispose:

“Chiama e chiama più forte. E chiama ancora per tre volte E chiama il tuo prottetore, Chi é con te a tutte le ore E mai non ti lascera se sempre Lui invochera.”

“Spirit, who art the chief of all the spirits! Who art the king of all the sorcerers! Bring unto me some object which may serve To represent our land, and be its crest.”

“To which a voice replied:

“Call out aloud, then more forcibly, And yet again three times, and unto him Who is thy guardian and ever with thee, And who will never leave thee—call to him!”

“And who art thou who speakest to me?” asked the girl.

“I am the Spirit of the Red Cap.”

“And who is my protector?”

“The magician Virgil,” replied the Voice.

Then she invoked Virgil, who appeared in person, and asked what she would have.

She replied that she had been charged to find a name and object to represent the land.

“It is well,” answered Virgil. “I have already written the name on a leaf; now take this thing in thy hand”—here he gave her an onion—“and cast it into yonder cavern, from which there is an underground way.”

The girl obeyed; the onion spun round and rolled away; she followed it afar, till at last it stopped at a leaf on which was written “Cettardo.” And it was in this spot where the onion stopped that the town in after time was built, and where the girl found the leaf is now the municipal palace. And so, one by one, great buildings rose. Thus came the name and arms of Cettardo.

In due time the maid had a lover, and it was said that these two were the only ones who could go through the subterranean passage.

And it hath been, and may be still, proved that any person attempting this passage will after a few steps be suffocated, and can go no further.

* * * * *

If we compare this legend with other traditions, there can be little doubt that it is at least of Roman origin. The great veneration for the onion among the Egyptians—“Happy people,” wrote Juvenal, “to have gods growing in their gardens!”—which passed to the Romans, probably, in later days through the priests of Serapis and Isis, {206} and the many mysteries connected with it, fully account for its being chosen as the symbol of a city. Its traditions were greatly mingled and confused with those of the garlic and the leek, but it was above all other plants a protector against sorcery; that is, against _all_ evil influence. Where onions could not help, nothing availed, or as it was expressed, _bulbus nihil profuerit_. It would appear from the conjectures of Nork (_Andeutung eines Systemes der Mythologie_, p. 125) that the onion was the sign or crest of the pyramid of Cheops, as it is of Cettardo.

It is, however, in the mention of a subterranean passage full of mephitic vapour, which seems to have no connection with the tale whatever, that the clue to the whole tradition may be found. The people wanting a name and a site for a city, receive them from a pythoness or sibyl, the two being identified in many legends. The grotto of the Sybil near Naples is approached by a long subterranean road, over which I have myself passed—being carried on the back of a strong peasant-guide. Just in the middle of the wet, winding cavern, I said: “You are a good horse.”

“I am particularly good at eating macaroni,” he replied, and stopped. This was equivalent to begging.

“Horses who talk need the spur,” I replied, giving him a gentle reminder with my heel. He laughed, and trotted on. However, he got his “macaroni.”

That the pythoness, or female oracle, was first intoxicated with the vapour of carbonic acid gas in a cavern, and that her utterances were recorded on leaves which blew about loosely and were then gathered and put together, is well known, and it is this, apparently, which is meant in this tale by the flying leaf bearing the name of Cettardo. Plutarch, in his “Treatise on Abandoned Oracles,” declares that “the terrestrial effluvium was the conductor of the god into the body of the Pythia.” As the vapours disappeared, the oracle became dumb, or, as Cicero expresses it:

“They ceased because this terrestrial virtue, which moved the soul of the Pythia by divine inspiration, disappeared in time, as we have seen rivers dried up or turned away into other beds.”

The onion was a symbol of fertility and increase of population, therefore it was well adapted to serve as a fetish for a new city. It was also among the Egyptians _par eminence_ typical of the resurrection, so that no woman was buried without one. {207}

It may be observed that in this legend Virgil appears as a guardian spirit or god, certainly not as a mortal.

It would almost seem as if there were an undercurrent of genial satire or mockery in the part where the young Pythia graciously assures the simple peasants that, out of sheer gratitude and to oblige them, she will consult with—of all the gods—the Robin Good-fellow, or goblin of the red-cap! who in all tales, Italian as well as English, is ever a tricksy sprite, more given to teasing and kissing servant-girls, and playing with children and cats, than aught more dignified. When we remember that the object of this gracious benevolence is to make her father chief or king, it verily appears as if the whole were a “put-up job” between parent and child.

* * * * *

THE END.

* * * * *

_Elliot Stock_, 62, _Paternoster Row_, _London_.

FOOTNOTES.

{0a} Of which there is an English translation by E. F. M. Benecke entitled “Virgil in the Middle Ages.” London, Swan Sonnenschein and Co.

{0b} Comparetti.

{0c} Alexandra Dumas also used this book very freely for his “Mille et Une Fantômes”—in fact, the latter work may be said to be based on it. The “Histoire des Fantômes” was the first and principal source from which French lovers of the supernatural derived the interest in were-wolves and vampires which manifested itself during the time of Napoleon and more recently.

{0d} “Pioneers of Evolution.”

{12} Possibly meaning that it was the first time when he recognised his power as a sage or sorcerer.

{13} Horus Apollo, “Hieroglyph.,” II. 32.

{18} Simply an _omelette aux truffes_, the common fashion of eating truffles among the peasants. It is possibly an old Roman dish, and may be in Apicius.

{21a} “Egli ha la lupa” (_i.e._, fame); also “Ho una fame ch’io la veggio.”—“Proverbi Italiani da Orlando,” Pescetti, 1618.

{21b} In the Italian MS.: “I figlii erano al letto del padre che sapevano alla fine, ma non una lacrima sortiva dal loro ciglio.”

{23} “Morto io, morto il porco.” Latin: “Me mortuo terra misceatur incendio” (Suetonius in “Vitâ Neronis”)—“When I shall be dead, the devil may take everything!”

{32} Published by William Blackwood and Sons, Edinburgh, 1897.

{34} _Male a far ti mangiare da qualche orco_—_Orco_ is from _Orcus_, the Spirit of Hell.

{39} Swearing by the body or any part thereof implied the destruction or forfeiture of it, _i.e._, death or slavery in case the oath should be broken.

{40} The same was believed of Diana. I have omitted here much needless verbiage and repetition, and abbreviated what follows.

{41a} I conjecture that this is wild poppy.

{41b} A play on _paura_ (fear) and the name of the plant.

{46} Quaintly spelled _quo prire_ in the original MS.

{47} London, D. Nutt, 1844, price 1s., Mediæval Legends, No. II.

{49} “Legends of Florence,” collected from the people, etc., by Charles Godfrey Leland. London, David Nutt, 1896.

{50a} This is certain proof that the columns had been brought from the East.

{50b} This is mentioned by many writers. I read it last in a very curious old manuscript History of Florence, written apparently about 1650, which—though it was in good condition, and well bound in parchment—I purchased for four _soldi_, or twopence, from an itinerant dealer. Finding by a note that the work belonged to the library of the Liceo Dante, I restored it to that institution. I also found in this manuscript an account of the miracle of the blooming of the elm-tree of San Zenobio.

{52} It is worth noting _en passant_ that, according to Max Nordau, one of the Ibsenites, modern Illuminati or Naturalists—I forget to which division of the great body of reformers he belongs—has seriously proposed this creation of _donne artificiale_. _Vide_ Nordau, “Degeneration.”

{55} This is finely conceived to give an idea of the great effect of the agony expressed in the face of the spectre. Adelone would naturally be so deeply impressed by it as to be unable to maintain the interview.

{57} E ne un luogo sporco.

{58} Evidently the Belsàbo of a preceding tale.

{60} In the MS.: “‘Many are deluded, or get a thumb at the nose,’ says the proverb.” “Maxima sero delusi, ho sia con un palma di’ naso cosi, dice il proverbio.” This expressive sign of the thumb is represented in an Irish Gospel of St. Mark of the sixth century.

{61} This superlative is rendered in the original manuscript by the very original expression: “They were so near being killed, that they were almost at the point of death.”

{62a} “Lo spirito del vaso che era quel santo Virgilio.” Here Virgil is for once fairly sainted or canonized.

{62b} “Bevve un barile pieno di vino, e divenne ubbriaco come un tegolo o quattro suonatori di violini.” This recalls “tight as a brick” (Manuscript).

{63} “Virgiglio e la Donna di Diaccio” (Title in MS.).

{64} In allusion, probably, to the “Madonna del Fuoco,” whose festival is annually celebrated at Forli, in the Toscana Romagna. The writer of this story was from the neighbourhood of Forli. “The Madonna del Fuoco is probably Vesta” (_vide_ “Etrusco-Roman Legends,” by C. G. Leland).

{67} Four antique marble statues of women. Any ancient female statue is commonly called a _Venus_ by the people at large in Italy.

{68} Here there is a hiatus, or blank in the manuscript. By crown is here meant a fillet or tiara, as will be shown anon.

{72} “Tutto era artificiale,” meaning very artistic or æsthetic.

{77} “Alla _sua_ religione.”

{78a} “La testa d’un uomo piena di vermi e puzzolente,” a parody of the decayed cabbage.

{78b} I may here note that the ruined castle of the dreaded Falkenstein is in sight of the rooms where I am now writing in Homburg-les-Bains.

{80} Singer or minstrel, one who sings his poems, and not merely a writer of poems, is understood by _poeta_ in all these legends.

{88} So given in the text for Seneca.

{89a} “Cosi moriva e tutta Roma piangeva.”

{89b} _Vampa_.

{89c} _Capitalisti_, bankers.

{90} “Il più grande birbone.”

{98a} “E cosi tutti facevano l’amore nel buio, senza sapere chi era quello che facevano. . . .”

{98b} _Vide_ “Etrusco-Roman Remains.”

{98c} By inadvertence or a blunder in the original manuscript, the wizard or witch is made male and female, and the victim alternately the young lady and the lover. It would make no difference as regards the plot.

{99} “Serratura o luchetta.”

{100} Florentine _folar_, or _follo_, from _foglio_, a leaf. I conjecture that this is the original of the English slang _vogel_, a silk handerchief, and not the German _vogel_, a bird.

{106} It may be noted that any clever modern juggler could perform the miracle of the fish as here described.

{109} The original reduces this to a minimum—“Non più grande del dito mignole di un’ bimbo di nascita.”

{110a} This is exactly like a small tambourine, but more strongly made.

{110b} _The Boston Comic Annual_, 1828.

{114} Signore Cosino, or Cosimo. This name appears here for the first time in the story.

{126} _Vide_ “Algonkin Tales of New England,” by Charles G. Leland.

{134} In the original “La Dea della Neve.” In Italy the word “goddess” is more familiarly and frequently used than it is by peasants in England, but rather with application to great and good spirits of any kind than to deities.

{135} This was probably due to the very rapid formation of a frozen crust. _Vide_ Nansen’s work.

{138} Anime.

{140} _Comare_, godmother, gossip, a familiar form of address. In French _commère_; Scotch, _cummer_.

{141a} “Andiede bene”—Cut their lucky.

{141b} “I find this is a peasant’s expression for the ‘gloaming.’ _Verso sera_ was the explanation” (Roma Lister). Literally “between the dim and the dark.” “Entre chien et loup”—the owl’s light.

{143} Literally “ugly mammy.”

{144} This conveys the idea of complete cleanliness, as well-scoured bare walls and floors are most easily vibrated by currents of air, and consequently most echoing.

{147} “Ora siamo belli fritti.”

{148} “Passegiando, passegiando, Me ne vengo, ricordando,”

or “walking away.”

{150} M. Annæi Lucani, “De Bello Civili, vel Pharsaliæ,” Liber X., 225.

{151} The reader will find this Herodias-Lilith fully described in a little work entitled “Aradia; or, The Gospel of the Witches,” by Charles Godfrey Leland. London: D. Nutt.

{155a} “Scongiurati”—evoked.

{155b} The sentence is twice repeated in the original.

{156} “Ed aria resplendente,” a play on the name Bell’ Aria.

{158} This I have supplied to fill a blank.

{159} Evidently with quicksilver or mercury—_similia similibus_.

{165} Bottles for wine are sometimes made to contain several gallons.

{166} “An Enquiry into the Life and Legend of Michael Scott,” by the Rev. J. Wood Brown, M.A. Edinburgh, David Douglas, 1897.

{172} “Pigionale come si dei ebbe volgarmente” (original text).

{173} Annunziata.

{177} “Perche e stato sempre il mio dio.”

{178} Vollmer, “Wörterbuch der gesammten Mythologie,” p. 1162.

{182} “Anche dopo morte rimarrai la stemma di Firenze, ovunque si trovera il Giglio.”

{183a} Pausanias, v. ii.

{183b} “Christliche Kunstsymbolik,” p. 28; Frankfort, 1839, _apud_ Friedrich.

{187a} Here there is a manifest omission. It would appear that the Emperor made love to the girl, and that the first speech which follows was by him and not by her.

{187b} Here the remark and answer are run together in absurd confusion, but I believe that I have correctly restored the original.

{190a} “Sentenze,” as defined by D’Ambra, “Apothegms.”

{190b} Avviso, “Quando l’ amico guardara (o), ricordava bene l’ avviso, cosi lo spirito lo guardava, e cosi quella persona diveniva buona.”

{194} “Il proverbio o poema divena Uno spirito vivente, Che ti aiutera A divenire savio e sapiente.”

{196} The Bag of Nails was once a tavern sign in England. It was conjectured to be a corruption of _Bacchanals_—a very unlikely derivation.

{203} This means here the recitation of five prayers, after which stories are told or traditions imparted and discussed. An immense amount of folklore can be gathered on such occasions.

{204a} “Ne avevano un capo e ne gnente”—No head and no nothing—in the original.

{204b} The speech as given by the precocious maiden in the original text is an amusing effort at fine talk or elevated language by an illiterate person, its object being to strengthen the marvel of the child’s inspiration.

{204c} That is, on her face. To do this in a pig-sty was a special means of invoking dreams or inspirations, as described in Norse sagas. It is fully illustrated in my “Etrusco-Roman Remains.”

{206} Their temples were the last which were abandoned in Rome, as Wilkie Collins has minutely described in a novel.

{207} “Wegen ihrer erregenden Eigenschaft wurde die Zwiebel ein erotisches Symbol; deshalb _salaces_ genannt; daher in die Schamtheile weiblicher Mumien als Sinnbilder der Auferstehung gelegt wurden.”—Friedrich, “Symbolik.”