Tuscan folk-lore and sketches, together with some other papers. Anderton Isabella M.

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СКАЧАТЬ says George Eliot, speaking of the Midland Counties of England. Stranger yet, perhaps, is the survival of the old pagan spirit, the haunting echo of old pagan legend, which any visitor to the hills of Tuscany may verify. Let him join the peasants as they meet now in one house, now in another, to spend the long winter evenings round the fire; or let him stroll, in the early autumn, into some low, dark kitchen where neighbours sit among piles of chestnut twigs, busily stripping off the leaves and making them into bundles for winter use in the baking of chestnut cakes (necci). There, among stornelli and rispetti, he may well chance upon some such shrewd, quaint tale as the following: —

      Once upon a time there was a man called Padre Ulivo. He was always cheerful, always singing, and very fond of good company. He had a barrel of wine in the cellar, and every evening his friends used to come and see him, sit round the fire, eat, drink, sing, and lead a merry life. But at last the barrel was empty, and all his provisions run out, so that he had nothing more to offer to those who came, and all his pleasant evenings were at an end. Now everyone avoided him, and his cottage grew dull and lonely. One night he had just enough flour left for one small cake.

      “Well,” said he, “I’ll make a little schiacciata this evening, bake it in the ashes, and to-morrow I must take what God sends.”

      So he made the schiacciata, ate half of it, and got into bed. He had not been there long before he heard a knock at the door.

      “Who’s there?” he called out.

      “Padre Ulivo,” said a voice from outside, “we want to come in and warm ourselves at your fire; open the door to us.”

      So Padre Ulivo jumped out of bed, opened the door, and there were twelve men outside.

      “Wait a minute while I put on my trousers,” said he, for he was in his shirt.

      “Now, Padre Ulivo,” said one of the men, “we want something to eat.”

      “Something to eat! How can I give you that when I have nothing in the house! I made a little schiacciata of my last flour this evening. Look, here’s the bit I’ve not eaten.”

      “No, no; you must give us something to eat – we’re hungry.”

      “But, indeed, I don’t do it to deceive you. I have nothing; absolutely nothing.”

      “Go and look again in the cupboard.”

      “But what’s the good? It’s empty. Do you believe that I want to deceive you?”

      “Go and look, at all events.”

      So Padre Ulivo opened the cupboard, and found it quite full of meat and bread, and everything nice. Quite full! and of such good things as he had never hoped to have.

      “Oh!” said he, “don’t think I was deceiving you; there really was nothing there last time I went to it.”

      So he laid the table and they began to eat.

      “But we want wine,” said the man; “go to the cellar and get some.”

      “I have none,” said Padre Ulivo; “I used up all mine some time ago.”

      “Go and see.”

      “But it’s no good; my barrel is quite empty. Indeed it is not because I am greedy. I have none left.”

      “Go and see. We’ll come too.”

      So they all went down to the cellar.

      “You see,” said Padre Ulivo, tapping the barrel. “Listen how hollow it sounds!”

      “Draw out the spigot.”

      He did so, and immediately there spurted out such a stream of wine as knocked him right against the opposite wall.

      “Oh, oh!” said he. “I swear it was empty last time I came here.”

      Then he filled a big jug, and they all went upstairs and made a good supper.

      “Now we want to sleep here,” said the men.

      “But I have only one bed,” answered Padre Ulivo; “and there are thirteen of us! I know what I’ll do, though; I’ll put the mattress on the floor, and we must manage the best way we can.”

      So he put the mattress on the floor, spread sheets on it, and they slept comfortably, some on the mattress and some on the bed.

      The next morning the men went away, and Padre Ulivo accompanied them for some little distance on their journey, walking behind with one who was especially friendly.

      “The one in front,” said this man, “the most important of us all, is Dominiddio2 himself. Go and ask him a favour.”

      So Padre Ulivo ran on, and threw himself on his knees in the road.

      “What do you want?” said Dominiddio. “I will grant you whatever you ask for.”

      “I want that anyone who sits down on my chair may be unable to rise without my permission.”

      “Be it so.”

      And Padre Ulivo returned to his companion.

      “Have you asked a favour?”

      “Yes, and it’s granted.”

      “What did you ask?”

      Padre Ulivo told him.

      “Oh, you stupid man! But go and ask another favour quickly. And mind it’s something great, and something really for yourself. Remember you are speaking to Dominiddio.”

      Padre Ulivo ran on again and knelt down.

      “What do you want this time? You shall have it.”

      “Let anyone who gets up into my fig-tree be unable to come down without my permission.”

      “Very well; it shall be so.”

      And Padre Ulivo came back leaping for joy.

      “Well, and what did you ask for?”

      Padre Ulivo told him.

      “Oh, you fool! Go again, you will get one more favour; but mind you ask for something really good for yourself.”

      He wanted him to ask to go to Paradise.

      “Again!” said Dominiddio, when he saw Padre Ulivo in the dust before him. “Well, this is the last time. What do you want?”

      “Let me always win at cards, no matter whom I may be playing with.”

      “Be it so. And now no more.”

      Padre Ulivo came back to his companion singing for joy.

      “What have you asked for this time? Something really great?”

      “Oh, yes,” said Padre Ulivo, and told him.

      “Well, you’ve lost your chance now. Good-bye.”

      With СКАЧАТЬ