Part 18 (1/2)
”The poor horse continued to bleed.
”'You are like the mouse,' added a neighbour, 'who thought because he had dipped the end of his tail in the meal, that he owned and could run the mill.'
”'The Florentine method of shoeing horses,' remarked Saint Peter gravely, 'does not appear to be invariably successful. I think that we had better recur to mine.' And with this he put the hoof to the ankle, and _presto_! the miracle was wrought again. That is the story. In most cases, Signore, _un pazzo gitta una pietra nel pozzo_-a fool rolls a rock into a well which it requires a hundred wise men to get out again. This time a single sage sufficed. But for that you must have the Lord at your back, as Saint Peter had.”
”Why do they say, as foolish as a crawfish or lobster?” I inquired.
”Because, Signore, the _granchio_, be he lobster or crawfish, carries his head in the _sca.r.s.ella_, which is a hole in his belly. Men who have their brains in their bellies-or gluttons-are generally foolish. But what is the use of boasting of our wisdom? He who has neither poor men nor fools among his relations was born of the lightning or of thunder.”
There is another story current among the people, though it is in print, but as it is a merry one, belonging truly enough to the folk-lore of Florence, I give it as it runs:
”You have heard of Piovano Arlotto, who made this our town so lively long ago. It was rich then, indeed. There are more flowers than florins in Florence now: _ogni fior non fa frutto_-all flowers do not bear fruit.
”Well, it happened one day that Piovano, having heard a good story from Piero di Cosimo de' Medicis, answered with another. Now the tale which Messer Piero di Cosimo told was this:
”Once there lived in Florence a poor shoemaker, who went every morning to the Church of San Michele Berteldi-some say it was at San Bartolommeo, and maybe at both, for a good story or a big lie is at home anywhere.
”Well, he used to pray before a John the Baptist in wood, or it may have been cast in plaster, or moulded in wax, which was on the altar. One morning he prayed scalding hot, and the _chierico_-a boy who waits on the priest, who was a young rascal, like all of his kind-overheard him say: 'Oh, Saint John, I pray thee make known to me two things. One is whether my wife is good and true to me, and the other what will become of my only son.'
”Then the ma.s.s-boy, who had hidden himself behind the altar, replied in a soft, slow, strange voice: 'Know, my son, that because thou hast long been so devout to me, thou shalt be listened unto. Return hither to-morrow, and thou wilt be answered; and now go in peace.'
”And the shoemaker, having heard this, verily believed that Saint John had spoken to him, and went his way with great rejoicing. So, bright and early the next morning, he was in the church, and said: 'Saint John, I await thy reply.'
”Then the ma.s.s-boy, who was hidden as before, replied: 'Oh, my son, I am sorry to say that thy wife is no better than she should be-_ha fatto fallo con piu d'uno_-and everybody in Florence except thee knows it.'
”'And my son?' gasped the shoemaker.
”'_He will be hung_,' replied the voice.
”The shoemaker rose and departed abruptly. In the middle of the church he paused, and, without a sign of the cross, and putting on his cap, he cried: 'What sort of a Saint John are you, anyhow?'
”'Saint John the Baptist,' replied the voice.
”'_Sia col malanno e con la mala Pasque che Iddio ti dia_!-Then may the Lord give you a bad year and a miserable Easter-tide! You never utter aught save evil, and it was for thy evil tongue that Herod cut thy head off-and served thee right! I do not believe a word of all which thou hast told me. I have been coming here every day for twenty-five years, and never asked thee for anything before; but I will make one more vow to thee, and that is-never to see thy face again.'
”And when Messer Cosimo had ended, Piovano Arlotto replied:
”'One good turn deserves another. It is not many years ago since a poor _fa.r.s.ettajo_, or doublet-maker, lived in Florence, his shop being close to the Oratorio di Orto San Michele, {126} and every morning he went to wors.h.i.+p in the church, and lit a candle before a picture representing Christ as a child disputing with the Doctors, while his mother enters seeking him.
”'And after he had done this daily for more than twenty-five years, it happened that his little son, while looking on at a game of ball, had a tile fall on his head, which wounded him terribly. The doctors being called in, despaired.
”'The next morning the poor tailor went to his devotions in Or' San Michele, bearing this time, instead of a farthing taper, a great wax-candle; and kneeling, he spoke thus: ”_Dolce Signor mio Gesu Cristo_, I beg thee to restore my son to health. Thou knowest that I have wors.h.i.+pped thee here for twenty-five years, and never asked for anything before, and thou thyself can best bear witness to it. This my son is all my happiness on earth, and he was also most devoted to thee. Should he be taken away, I would die in despair, and so I commend myself to three!”
”'Then he departed, and coming home, learned that his son had died.
”'The next morning, in grief and anger, he entered Orto San Michele, and, without any candle, he went directly to the picture, and, without kneeling, broke forth in these words: ”_Io ti disgrazio_-I dislike, disown, and despise thee, and will return here no more. Five-and-twenty years have I wors.h.i.+pped thee and never asked for anything before, and now thou dost refuse me my request. If I had only gone to the great crucifix there, I daresay I should have got all I wanted; but this is what comes of trusting to a mere child, for, as the proverb says, _Chi s'impaccia con fanciulli_, _con fanciulli si ritrova_-he who troubles himself with children will himself be treated as a child.'”
It is worth remarking, as regards the tone and character of this tale, that such freedom was commonest when people were most devout. The most sceptical critics generally agree that these stories of Piovano Arlotto are authentic, having been dictated by him, and that he had a very exceptional character in his age for morality, honesty, and truth. He himself declared, without being contradicted, that he was the only priest of whom he knew who did not keep a mistress; and yet this story is simply an average specimen of the two hundred connected with his name, and that they in turn are identical in character with all the popular wit and humour of the time.