“Then the goblin told the Signore that he would ere long contract a happy marriage, and that it was for this that he had hitherto kept him from forming alliances which would have prevented it; and that if in future he should ever be in great need of assistance, to sound the horn, and he would come to him, but that this must always be in the palace alone after midnight. And having said this he vanished.
“The Signore grieved for a long time at the loss of his goblin friend, but he married happily, as had been predicted, and his life was long and prosperous. So he put the horn in his shield, and you may see it to this day on the Church of Santa Maria Novella. And so it was that the Via del Corno got its name.”
“From which we may learn,” saith Flaxius, “that wherever a man is appointed to be on a certain day, there will the man be found. Therefore do thou, O reader, so manage it that wherever thou art appointed to be, thou canst get well out of it. For even Fate smiles when it desires to do so.”
FRATE GIOCONDO, THE MONK OF SANTA MARIA NOVELLA
“In illo tempore—no—in diebus illis, che i frati sogliono percorrere il contado delle terre e delle città per far proviste alla barba degli scimuniti d’ogni genere pappatorio, vale dir di grano, formentone, legumi, mosto, cacio, olio, canape, lino, uova et cetera—un certo fra Zeffiro, se ne gira alla volta d’un villagio e tenevagli compagnia il suo ciucarello che carica gia a doppio sacchetto.”—L’Asino e il suo Frate, Racconti Piacevoli, 1864,
“Und sie war gar sehr erstannet über die Adresse und List dieses Münchleins.”—Lustige Thaten des Kloster-bruders Hannes von Lehnin, a.d. 1589.
“Monachus in claustro
Non valet ova dua,
Sed extra—bene valet triginta.”—Rabelais.
Among the monks of Santa Maria Novella in ancient days was one known as Frate Giocondo, who was truly of the kind who are of little use at home, or at any steady or reputable calling, but who was profitable enough when scouring the country on the loose, blarneying and begging from the good wives, giving counsel to the peasants, and profitable advice, while he ate their chickens and drank their wine, chucking all the pretty girls under their chins, or sub silentio, and making himself sociable, edifying, amusing, or holy—according to circumstances. Of whom it could be truly said:
“Monaco in convento
Non vale niente,
Ma fuori vale venti.”“Monk in monastery
Is not worth a cherry;
But abroad when sent, he
Often is worth twenty.”
As a preaching friar of Saint Dominic, truly Brother Giocondo was not a success, but as a beggar he beat
all the Zoccoloni out of Rome, [27] and that is saying a great deal. For there never was a friar with such an oiled and honeyed tongue, with which he could flatter and wheedle, tell legends of the saints, witches, or goblins by the hour, give all the gossip going; nor was he above selling his collections, or trading donkeys, or taking a hand at a game of cards, or singing to a lute, or even fiddling to a dance—so that, being a great, burly, handsome, merry-eyed knave, he got on marvellously well in the world, his jests being reported even in Siena.
Now one evening he was returning home to Santa Maria Novella dalla cercha, “from the quest,” and found himself still a few miles from Florence. And good fortune had favoured him marvellously that day, for his ass bore two panniers which were ben carichi d’ogni sorta di grazia di Dio—“stuffed full with all sorts of mercies of God,” such as bags of wheat, maize, wheat-meal, chickens, oil, cheese, butter, wine, truffles, onions, geese, turnips, sausages, bread, ducks; in short, Signore, as I said, there was ogni sorta di grazia di Dio, and enough to support a poor family for a month.