"The arms of the Medici bear a great key, and it is said that this was a sorcerer's or magic key, which belonged to the master of all the wizards or to the queen of the witches.

"And being ever evil at heart and cruelly wicked, the old Medici sought restlessly every opportunity to do wrong, which was greatly aided by the queen of the witches herself, who entered the family, and allied herself to one of it; others say she was its first ancestress. And that being on her death-bed, she called her husband, or son, or the family, and said:

"'Take this key, and when I am dead, open a certain door in the cellar, which, through secret pa.s.sages, leads to an enchanted garden, in which you will find all the books and apparatus needed to acquire great skill in sorcery, and thus thou canst do all the evil and enjoy all the crime that a great ruler can desire; spare not man in thy vengeance, nor woman in thy pa.s.sion; he lives best who wishes for most and gets what he wants.'

"Thus it came to pa.s.s that the Medici became such villains, and why they bear a key."

Villains they may have been, but they were not so deficient in moral dignity as a friend of mine, who, observing that one of the pills in their scutcheon is blue, remarked that they were the first to take a blue pill.

Since the above was written I have collected many more, and indeed far more interesting and amusing legends of the Medici; especially several referring to Lorenzo the Magnificent, which are not given by any writer that I am aware of. These will appear, I trust, in a second series.

"A race which was the reflex of an age So strange, so flashed with glory, so bestarred With splendid deeds, so flushed with rainbow hues, That one forgot the dark abyss of night Which covered it at last when all was o'er.

Take all that's evil and unto it add All that is glorious, and the result Will be, in one brief word, the Medici."

FURICCHIA, OR THE EGG-WOMAN OF THE MERCATO VECCHIO

"Est a.n.u.s inferno, vel formidanda barathro, Saga diu magicis usa magisteriis, Haec inhians ova gallina matre creatis.

Obsipat a.s.sueto pharmaca mixta cibo, Pharmaca queis quaecunque semel gallina voratis, Ova decem pariat bis deciesque decem."

STEUCCIUS, _cited by_ P. GOLDSCHMIDT, _Verworffener Hexen und Zauberadvocat_. Hamburg, 1705.

"E un figliuolo della gallina bianca."-_Old Proverb_.

The Mercato Vecchio was fertile in local traditions, and one of these is as follows:

LEGEND OF THE LANTERNS.

"There was in the Old Market of Florence an old house with a small shop in it, and over the door was the figure or bas-relief of a pretty hen, to show that eggs were sold there.

"All the neighbours were puzzled to know how the woman who kept this shop could sell so many eggs as she did, or whence she obtained them, for she was never seen in the market buying any, nor were they brought to her; whence they concluded that she was a witch and an egg-maker, and this scandal was especially spread by her rivals in business. But others found her a very good person, of kindly manner, and it was noted in time that she not only did a great deal of good in charity, and that her eggs were not only always fresh and warm, but that many persons who had drunk them when ill had been at once relieved, and recovered in consequence.

And the name of this egg-wife was Furicchia.

"Now there was an old lady who had gone down in the world or become poor, and she too had set up a shop to sell eggs, but did not succeed, chiefly because everybody went to Furicchia. And this made the former more intent than ever to discover the secret, and she at once went to work to find it out.

"Every morning early, when Furicchia rose, she went out of doors, and then the hen carved over the door came down as a beautiful white fowl, who told her all the slanders and gossip which people spread about her, and what effort was being made to discover her secret. And one day it said:

"'There is the Signora who was once rich and who is now poor, and who has sworn to find out thy secret how thou canst have so many eggs to sell, since no one sees thee buy any, and how it comes that invalids and bewitched children are at once cured by the virtue of those eggs. So she hopes to bring thee to death, and to get all thy trade.

"'But, dear Furicchia, this shall never be, because I will save thee. I well remember how, when I was a little chicken, and the poultry dealer had bought me, and was about to wring my neck-b'r'r'r!-I shudder when I think of it!-when thou didst save my life, and I will ever be grateful to thee, and care for thy fortune.

"'Now I will tell thee what to do. Thou shalt to-morrow take a pot and fill it with good wine and certain drugs, and boil them well, and leave it all hot in thy room, and then go forth, and for the rest I will provide. _Addio_, Furicchia!' And saying this, the hen went back into her accustomed place.

"So the next morning, Furicchia, having left the wine boiling, went forth at ten o'clock, and she was hardly gone ere the Signora, her rival, entered the place and called for the mistress, but got no answer. Then she went into the house, but saw nothing more than a vast quant.i.ty of eggs, and all the while she heard the hen singing or clucking:

"'_Coccode_! Dear me!

Where can Furicchia be?

_Coccode_! Furicchia mine!

Bring me quick some warm red wine!

_Coccode_! Three eggs I have laid!

_Coccode_! Now six for your trade.

_Coccode_! Now there are nine, Bring me quickly the warm red wine!

_Coccode_! Take them away; Many more for thee will I lay, And thou wilt be a lady grand, As fine as any in all the land; And should it happen that any one Drinks of this wine as I have done, Eggs like me she will surely lay; That is the secret, that is the way.

_Coccode_! _Coccode_!'

"Now the Signora heard all this, and knew not whence the song came, but she found the pot of hot wine and drank it nearly all, but had not time to finish it nor to escape before Furicchia returned. And the latter began to scold her visitor for taking such liberty, to which the Signora replied, 'Furicchia, I came in here to buy an egg, and being shivering with cold, and seeing this hot wine, I drank it, meaning indeed to pay for it.' But Furicchia replied, 'Get thee gone; thou hast only come here to spy out my secret, and much good may it do thee!'

"The Signora went home, when she begun to feel great pain, and also, in spite of herself, to cluck like a hen, to the amazement of everybody, and then sang:

"'_Coccode_! Che mal di corpo!

_Coccode_! Voglio fa l'uovo!

E se l'uova non faro, Di dolore moriro.'

"'_Coccode_! What a pain in my leg!

_Coccode_! I must lay an egg!

And if my eggs I cannot lay, I shall surely die to-day.'

"Then she began to lay eggs indeed-_tante_, _tante_-till they nearly filled all the room, and truly her friends were aghast at such a sight, never having heard of such a thing before; but she replied, 'Keep quiet; it is a secret. I have found out how Furicchia gets her eggs, and we shall be as rich as she.' And having laid her eggs, nothing would do but she must needs hatch them, and all the time for many days she sat and sat, clucking like a hen-_coccode_! _coccode_!-and pecking at crusts like a hen, for she would not eat in any other way. And so she sat and shrivelled up until she became a hen indeed, and was never anything else, and died one. But when the eggs hatched, there came from them not chicks, but mice, which ran away into the cellar, and so ends the story."

This story greatly resembles one given by Peter Goldschmidt in "The Witches' and Sorcerers' Advocate Overthrown," published at Hamburg in 1705, and to the same as sung in Latin song by a certain Steuccius. The Italian tale is, however, far better told in every respect, the only point in common being that a certain witch laid eggs by means of a potion, which produced the same effect on a man. It is the well-managed play of curiosity, grat.i.tude, and character which make Furicchia so entertaining, and there is nothing in the heavy German tale like the "Song of the Hen," or _Coccode_, which is a masterpiece of a juvenile lyric. The clucking and pecking at crusts of the old woman, as she gradually pa.s.ses into a hen, is well imagined, and also the finale of the chickens turned to mice, who all run away. One could make of it a play for the nursery or the stage.

The Mercato Vecchio, in which the egg-wife dwelt, was a place of common resort in the olden time, "when there was giving and taking of talk on topics temporal:"

"Where the good news fleetly flew, And the bad news ever true, Softly whispered, loudly told, Scalding hot or freezing cold." {14}

This place is recalled by a story which is indeed to be found in the facetiae of the Florentine Poggio, yet which holds its own to this day in popular tale-telling. It is as follows:

"It happened once when Florence was at war with the Duke of Milan, that a law was pa.s.sed making it death for any one to speak in any way of peace. Now there was a certain Bernardo Manetti, a man _di ingegno vivacissimo_, or an extremely ready wit, who being one day in the Mercato Vecchio to buy something or other (it being the custom of the Florentines of those times to go in person to purchase their daily food), was much annoyed by one of those begging friars who go about the roads, _alla questua_, collecting alms, and who stand at street-corners imploring charity. And this brazen beggar, accosting Bernardo, said to him:

"'_Pax vobisc.u.m_! Peace be unto you!'

"'_A chi parlasti di pace_?-How darest thou speak to me of _peace_, thou traitor and enemy to Florence?' cried Bernardo in well-a.s.sumed anger. 'Dost thou not know that by public decree thou may'st lose thy shaven head for mentioning the word? And thou darest ask me for alms here in the open market-place, thou traitor to thy country and thy G.o.d! _Apage_, _Satanas_-avaunt!-begone! lest I be seen talking to thee and taken for a conspirator myself! _Pax_ indeed-pack off with you, ere I hand you over to the torturers!'

"And so he rid himself of that importunate beggar."

Apropos of the egg-wife, if chickens are apropos to eggs, there is a merry tale of a certain priest, which will, I think, amuse the reader.

Like all good folk, the Florentines make fun of their neighbours, among whom are of course included the people of Arezzo, and tell of them this story:

"Long long ago, a certain Bishop Angelico convoked a Synod at Arezzo, summoning every priest in his diocese to be present; and knowing that many had slipped into very slovenly habits as regarded the sacerdotal uniform, made it a stern and strict order that every one should appear in _cappa e cotta_,' {15} or in cloak and robe.

"Now there was a priest who, though he kept a well-filled cellar, and a pretty servant-maid, and a fine poultry-yard, had none of these clerical vestments, and knew not where to borrow them for the occasion; so he was in great distress and _stavasi molto afflitto in casa sua_-sat in deep affliction in his home. And his maid, who was a bright and clever girl, seeing him so cast down, asked him the cause of his grief, to which he replied that the Bishop had summoned him to appear at the Synod in _cappa e cotta_.

"'Oh, nonsense!' replied the good girl. 'Is that all? My dear master, you do not p.r.o.nounce the words quite correctly, or else they have been badly reported to you. It is not _cappa e cotta_ which the Bishop requires, for a.s.suredly he has plenty of such clothes, but _capponi cotti_, 'good roast capons,' such as all bishops love, and which he knows he can get better from the country priests than from anybody. And _grazie a Dio_! there is n.o.body in all Tuscany has better poultry than ours, and I will take good care that you give the Bishop of the very best.'