He shew’d me none durst bury under that stone
More than he had been dead a few years agone,
For Mr. Michael’s name does terrifie each one.’
It will be observed that Satchells hesitates here between the title of knighthood which had been bestowed on Scot for a century past on the authority of Hector Boëce, and the more authentic dignity of Master which was really his. He also antedates the philosopher’s lifetime by more than a hundred years; so that plainly what we have in these verses is legend and tradition rather than history.
This is probably the latest appearance in literature of the old stories concerning Michael Scot told in the old way. Naudè[319] and Schmutzer[320] presently came on the scene, in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century, with their critical defences of Scot, all too imperfectly informed regarding his real reputation. In our own age the poems of Sir Walter Scott and Rossetti, while serving to show that so great a name has not been forgotten, breathe, it is plain, an entirely different spirit. They are but the romantic and sentimental revival of tales that the poets and their world had already ceased to believe.
Changed habits of thought, reaching and affecting every class of society, make it useless now to seek in Scotland for any new developments of the legend of Michael Scot. This is not so certainly true, however, of the South of Europe; of Italy, Sicily, and Spain, where he was once a familiar figure. There the slow progress of education has left the common people still in possession of much legendary lore, and even of the living faculty by which in past ages such tales have been formed. To ascertain what an Italian story-teller in the present year of grace would make of the name and fame of Michael Scot were clearly a curious and interesting inquiry. It is one which, on actual trial, has yielded two tales differing considerably from any hitherto published.[321] As these are certainly the very latest additions to the legend, they deserve a place here at the close of our collection. Freely rendered into English they run as follows:
‘Mengot was a notable astrologer and magician. Mengot was his true name,[322] but he had many surnames besides; among which was that of Scotto. This name of Scotto was given him by a princess. One night the Prince, her husband, happened to be in a company where the talk turned on the virtue of women, and the Prince said he would put his hand in the fire if his wife were not faithful to him; so sure was he of her virtue. Then spoke up another of the company, who made light of the caresses and compliments with which women use to deceive, and told a tale for the Prince’s warning. “There was once a man,” said he, “who thought as you do, dear Prince; for he took his wife for a pattern of virtue, and would have pledged, not his hand only, but his very life that she was so. It happened, however, that he had a friend who knew of the wizard whom they call Mengot, dwelling without the Croce Gate of Florence, and having his house below the ground, closed by a flat stone of the field so as to be secret. Those who would inquire of him must pass to the place and cry ‘Mengot! Master Mengot! I seek a favour of thee, and, if thou tell me true, I shall not stint thy reward;’ whereupon he doth straightway appear. This then was what the friend of the too confident husband did, for he summoned Mengot, and, in presence of all, said to him: ‘Tell me the truth, and whether the wife of this gentleman deserves his confidence or not.’ After some thought, the wizard replied, ‘Do you wish a true answer, or one made to please? I should be sorry to hurt the husband’s feelings.’ When all desired to have the truth, Mengot told them that the lady in question had gone to a place in the Via Calzaiuoli where disguises were arranged, and that she would be found next day dressed as a servant in the course of carrying on a vulgar intrigue in the Ghetto. Now all this was verified; for the wizard told them even the very house in the Via delle Ceste where she would be found with her lover, and it proved to be exactly as he had said.” When this tale was done, all who heard it cried that Mengot should be summoned again, to see whether the Princess were faithful or not. So they called him, as had been done in the other case, but with the same result; for here also the Prince’s confidence had been misplaced, and that in a high degree. Then said the Princess, between rage and shame, “Hast thou scotched me this time; but next time I will scotch thee.”[323] She straightway sought a witch, said to be more powerful than Mengot himself, and, telling what had happened, promised her gold by handfuls if she would revenge her on the wizard. The woman told her to be easy, for she would arrange the matter. She paid Mengot a visit as if to take his advice, and, stealing his magic rod, struck the ground three times, whereupon Mengot was turned into a hare, and fled from his habitation. Having foreseen, however, by his art that such danger might arise, Mengot had prepared a pool of enchanted water at his door. Into this he now leaped, and by its virtue was able to resume his proper form. The first thing he did was to seek the magic rod, and, finding it still in his house, he struck the witch on the head. She became a skinless[324] cat, and in that form haunted the guilty Princess for her sins; while Mengot was ever afterwards distinguished by the name of Scot.’
The second tale is to this effect:
‘Michael Scotti the wizard was a mighty master of witchcraft. There came to him one day a young lady, richly dressed, and wearing a thick veil. She told him that she wished to become a witch that she might cast a spell upon the child of a man who had forsaken her for another woman, now his wife; for she said that to bewitch this child would be the best revenge she could have. Michael was willing to content her; but we must here remark that wizards and witches gain their power, either at birth or as a legacy from some dying person who has the gift. In either of these cases, when the wizard or witch takes the form of an animal, both body and soul are present wherever the form may appear. If, on the other hand, any one becomes a witch of her own desire, as in the case before us, her spirit may move and act under such a form, but her body lies all the while where she left it. But to our tale.