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“More plenty than the fabled horn

Thrice emptied could pour forth at banqueting.”

—Keats, The Earlier Version of “Hyperion.”

“Prosperity is often our worst enemy, making us vicious, frivolous, and insolent, so that to bear it well is a better test of a man than to endure adversity.”—Gicciardini, Maxims, No. 64.

I did not know when I first read and translated the following story, which was obtained for me and written out by Maddalena, that it had any reference to the celebrated historian and moralist, Guicciardini. How I did so forms the subject of a somewhat singular little incident, which I will subsequently relate.

Le Tre Corne.

“There was an elderly man, a very good, kind-hearted, wise person, who was gentle and gay with every one, and much beloved by his servants, because they always found him buono ed allegro—pleasant and jolly. And often when with them while they were at their work, he would say, ‘Felice voi poveri!’—‘Oh, how lucky you are to be poor!’ And they would reply to him, singing in the old Tuscan fashion, because they knew it pleased him:

“ ‘O caro Signor, you have gold in store,

With all to divert yourself;

Your bees make honey, you’ve plenty of money,

And victuals upon the shelf:

A palace you have, and rich attire,

And everything to your heart’s desire.’

“Then he would reply merrily:

“ ‘My dear good folk, because you are poor

You are my friends, and all the more,

For the poor are polite to all they see,

And therefore blessed be Poverty!’

“Then a second servant sang:

“ ‘Oh bello gentile mio Signor’,

Your praise of poverty ’d soon be o’er

If you yourself for a time were poor;

For nothing to eat, and water to drink,

Isn’t so nice as you seem to think,

And a lord who lives in luxury

Don’t know the pressure of poverty.’

“Then all would laugh, and the jolly old lord would sing in his turn:

“ ‘O charo servitor’,

Tu parli tanto bene,

Ma il tuo parlar

A me non mi conviene.’ …

“ ‘My boy, you answer well,

But with false implication;

For what to me you tell

Has no true application;

How oft I heard you say

(You know ’tis true, you sinner!)

“I am half-starved to-day,

How I’ll enjoy my dinner!”

Your hunger gives you health

And causes great delight,

While I with all my wealth

Have not an appetite.’

“Then another servant sang, laughing:

“ ‘Dear master, proverbs say,

I have heard them from my birth,

That of all frightful beasts

Which walk upon the earth,

Until we reach the bier,

Wherever man may be,

There’s nothing which we fear

So much as poverty.’

“And so one evening as they were merrily improvising and throwing stornelli at one another in this fashion, the Signore went to his street-door, and there beheld three ladies of stately form; for though they were veiled and dressed in the plainest black long robes, it was evident that they were of high rank. Therefore the old lord saluted them courteously, and seeing that they were strangers, asked them whither they were going. But he had first of all had them politely escorted by his servants into his best reception-room. [3a]

“And the one who appeared to be the chief replied:

“ ‘Truly we know not where we shall lodge, for in all Florence there is, I trow, not a soul who, knowing who we are would receive us.’

“ ‘And who art thou, lady?’ asked the Signore. And she replied:

“ ‘Io mi chiamo, e sono,

La Poverta in persona,

E queste due donzelle,

Sono le mie sorelle,

Chi voi non conoscete

La Fame e la Sete!’

“ ‘I am one whom all throw curse on.

I am Poverty in person;

Of these ladies here, the younger

Is my sister, known as Hunger,

And the third, who’s not the worst,

Is dreaded still by all as Thirst.’

“ ‘Blessed be the hour in which ye entered my house!’ cried the Signore, delighted. ‘Make yourselves at home, rest and be at ease as long as you like—sempre sarei benglieto.’

“ ‘And why are you so well disposed towards me?’ inquired Poverty.

“ ‘Because, lady, I am, I trust, sufficiently wise with years and experience to know that everything must not be judged from the surface. Great and good art thou, since but for thee the devil a beggar in the world would ever move a finger to do the least work, and we should all be in mouldy green misery. Well hath it been said that ‘Need makes the old woman trot,’ [3b] and likewise that Poverta non guasta gentilezza—‘Poverty doth not degrade true nobility,’ as I can perceive by thy manner, O noble lady. Thou, Poverty, art the mother of Industry, and grandmother of Wealth, Health, and Art; thou makest all men work; but for thee there would be no harvests, yea, all the fine things in the world are due to Want.’

“ ‘And I?’ said Dame Hunger. ‘Dost thou also love me?’

“ ‘Si, Dio ti benedicha!’ replied the Signore. ‘La fame ghastiga il ghiotto’—‘Hunger corrects gluttony.

“ ‘Hunger causes our delight,

For it gives us appetite;

For dainties without hunger sent

Form a double punishment.’

‘Hunger is the best sauce.’ Thou makest men bold, for chane affamato non prezza bastone—a hungry dog fears no stick. Thou makest the happiness of every feast.’

“ ‘Ed io, Signore?’ said Thirst. ‘Hast thou also a good word for me?’

“ ‘A Dio, grazie! God be praised that thou art. For without thee I should have no wine. Nor do men speak in pity of any one when they say in a wine-shop, “He is thirsty enough to drink up the Arno.” I remember a Venetian who once said, coming to a feast, “I would not take five gold zecchini for this thirst which I now have.” And to sum it all up, I find that poverty with want to urge it is better than wealth without power to enjoy, and, taking one with another, the poor are honester and have better hearts than the rich.’

“ ‘Truly thou art great,’ replied Poverty. ‘Gentile, buono, e galantuomo a parlare—gentle, good, and noble in thy speech. In such wise thou wilt ever be rich, for as thou art rich thou art good and charitable. And thou hast well said that Plenty comes from us, and it is we who truly own the horn of plenty; and therefore take from me this horn as a gift, and while thou livest be as rich as thou art good and wise!’

“ ‘And I,’ said Hunger, ‘give thee another, and while it is thine thou shalt never want either a good appetite nor the means to gratify it. For thou hast seen the truth that I was not created to starve men to death, but to keep them from starving.’

“ ‘And I,’ said Thirst, ‘give thee a third horn of plenty; that is, plenty of wine and temperate desire—e buon pro vi faccia. Much good may it do you!’

“Saying this they vanished, and he would have thought it all a dream but for the three horns which they left behind them. So he had a long life and a happy, and in gratitude to his benefactresses he placed on his shield three horns, as men may see them to this day.”

When I received this legend, I did not know that the three horns on a shield form the coat of arms of Messer Guicciardini, the historian, nor had I ever seen them. It happened by pure chance I went one day with my wife and Miss Roma Lister, who is devoted to folk-lore, to make my first visit to Sir John Edgar at his home, the celebrated old mediæval palazzo, the Villa Guicciardini, Via Montugli.

On the way we passed the Church of the Annunciata, and while driving by I remarked that there were on its wall, among many shields, several which had on them a single hunting-horn, but that I had never seen three together, but had heard of such a device, and was very anxious to find it, and learn to what family it belonged.

What was my astonishment, on arriving at the villa or palazzo, at beholding on the wall in the court a large shield bearing the three horns. Sir John Edgar informed me that it was the shield of the Guicciardini family, who at one time inhabited the mansion. I related to him the story, and he said, “I should think that tale had been invented by some one who knew Guicciardini, the author, very well, for it is perfectly inspired with the spirit of his writings. It depicts the man himself as I have conceived him.”

Then we went into the library, where my host showed me Fenton’s translation of the “History” of Guicciardini and his “Maxims” in Italian, remarking that the one which I have placed as motto to this chapter was in fact an epitome of the whole legend.

I should observe, what did not before occur to me, that the family palace of the Guicciardini is in the Via Guicciardini, nearly opposite to the house of Machiavelli, and that it is there that the fairies probably called, if it was in the winter-time.