Tales of Humour, Gallantry & Romance, Selected and Translated from the Italian

by Unknown

“Well,” said Grasso, “since you are going there about your own affair, do me the favour to tell him, a friend of his is taken into custody, and beg of him, as an act of friendship, to come and speak to him.” Giovanni, looking at him, and scarcely able to keep his countenance, said, “I will do it with pleasure;” and went away about his business. Grasso still remaining at the little window, said to himself, “now I may be quite sure that I am no longer Grasso, but that I am changed to Matteo; what cursed ill fate is mine! If I speak of this matter, I shall be looked upon as a madman, and all the boys will run after me, and if I do not clear it up, a hundred blunders, such as happened to me last night, will occur again; so that either way I am in a terrible hobble: but let us see whether Grasso will come, for if he comes, I shall tell him all about it.” Long did he wait in expectation; but as Grasso never came, he withdrew from the window, to make room for one of the prisoners; his eyes at first cast down to the ground, and then looking up to heaven, with his hands clasped together. At that time, there was in prison a judge, whose name, through respect, we shall not mention, who was there for debt. This judge, although he did not know Grasso, seeing him so very disconsolate, tried every means to comfort him, and said, “Matteo, you are as down-hearted as if you were going to be hanged to-morrow morning; yet according to what I hear, yours is but a small debt; you should not give yourself up thus to grief. Why don’t you send to some friend or relation, and try to pay the money, or settle the business, in some way or other, so that you may get out of prison, and not vex yourself in this manner?” Grasso, finding that he so kindly endeavoured to comfort him, determined to tell him the whole circumstance, and having drawn him into a corner of the prison, said, “Sir, although you may not know me, I know you well, and know that you are a very worthy man, therefore have I made up my mind to tell you the cause of my unhappiness, lest you should think that such a trifling debt would make me uneasy. No! I have much greater reason for sorrow,” and then he began to tell him the whole story, from beginning to end, weeping almost all the while, and requested two things of him, the one that he would not mention the matter to any living soul; and next that he would give him some advice, or point out some way to extricate him from so perplexing a situation; adding, “I know, Sir, you have read a great deal, and many authors who have written most extraordinary things, but have you ever heard of such a case as this?”

The worthy man having heard him, and considering the affair, it struck him it must be one of these two things, either that the poor fellow had lost his senses, or that this was a hoax, as it certainly was: and he immediately answered, he had read many similar things, and that to become another person was no uncommon occurrence, and by no means wonderful. “Now, then,” said Grasso, “pray tell me if I am become Matteo?”

“Of course,” said the judge, “he must have become Grasso.”

“Well,” said Grasso, “if it be so, I should like to see him to quiet my mind.” Whilst they were thus conversing, it being nearly the hour of vespers, two brothers of this Matteo came to the prison and asked for the turnkey, and inquired whether a brother of theirs, by name Matteo, was in the prison, and for what sum he had been arrested, because, being his brothers, they had come to pay the debt for him, and to take him away. The turnkey, who was well acquainted with the plot, being a friend of Tommaso Pecori, answered, “There was such a person,” and, pretending to turn over the leaves of the book, said, “the debt is so much, due to so and so.”

“Well,” said they, “we wish to speak to him, then we will settle every thing for him,” and going to the prison, they desired one of the prisoners, who stood at the grating, to tell Matteo that two of his brothers were here, who were come to take him out of prison. The fellow having delivered his message, Grasso came to the little window, and bowed to them. The eldest of the brothers thus addressed him, “thou knowest, Matteo, how often we have admonished thee in respect to thy bad goings on: thou art every day getting in debt with some person or other, and never do you pay any one, because of the money you are spending in gambling, and what not, by which means thou art always left without a penny; and now that thou art in gaol, thou thinkest we have means to pay for thee, who hast consumed, within a short space, a treasure of money in all kinds of follies. Therefore, now we do say, that were it not for our honour’s sake, and on account of thy mother, we would leave thee here long enough, that thou mightest learn better ways; but, for this once, we have determined to pay thy debt and get thee out of this dungeon, but if ever you get into such a scrape again you shall get out of it as you may. In order that we may not be seen coming from hence in the day-time, we will call this evening for thee, when there are fewer people about, in order to prevent folks from knowing our affairs, and being made to blush at this misconduct.” Grasso turned to him that spoke, and with great humility and apparent contrition assured him, that, for the future, he should conduct himself more prudently, and would avoid the follies he had hitherto been guilty of, and never more disgrace them; and prayed them, for heaven’s sake, when the hour should come, that they would call and fetch him away. They promised to do so, and left him. He retired from the window, and said to the judge, “this is droll enough; here have been two brothers of Matteo, of that Matteo which I am changed to, and they have spoken to me as if to Matteo; they have chid me much, and say they will come for me in the evening, and take me from hence; now, if they take me from this place, where in the world shall I go? Home I must not go, for if Grasso should be there, what shall I say? I shall be taken for a maniac; and methinks he must be there, otherwise my mother would have inquired after me; whereas having him with her she does not perceive the mistake.” The judge had much ado to refrain from laughter, and enjoyed the joke; and said to him, “don’t go home, but go with those who call themselves your brothers; see where they take you, and what they do with you.” While they were thus talking, evening drew on, and the brothers came, pretending as if they had settled the debt and costs. The gaol-keeper arose with the keys of the prison in his hand, and said, “which of you is Matteo?” Grasso, stepping forward, said, “‘tis I.” The keeper looked at him, and said, “these, thy brothers, have paid your debt for you; therefore, you are now free;” and having opened the prison door, said, “go thy ways.” Grasso came out, and it being nearly dark, went with the two brothers, who lived at Santa Félicita, at the rising of the hill San Giorgio.

Being arrived at home they went with him into a room on the ground floor. “Remain here,” said they, “till supper time, as we would not let your mother see you, to distress her.” One of them remained with him, and they sat down by the fire before the table already prepared. The other went to the curate of St. Felicita, a good worthy man, and said to him, “I come to you, reverend Sir, with that confidence due to you. It is true we are three brothers, among which is one whose name is Matteo, who, yesterday, on account of some debt, was put into prison, and has taken it so much to heart that we really think he is losing his senses, and going mad. In every thing he appears Matteo as heretofore, except in one thing, that is, he has taken it into his head that he is become another man than Matteo. Did you ever hear of such a thing? he pretends that he is a certain Grasso, a carver, well known to him, who has a shop behind San Giovanni, and his own home is St. Mario del Fiore, and no one can get this out of his noddle; so that we have got him out of prison, brought him here, and put him into a room to conceal him, lest these absurd notions should be made public: therefore, to conclude, we beg of you, for charity sake, that you would kindly come to our house and speak to him, and endeavour to cure him of this extraordinary hallucination: and, indeed, we shall feel under the greatest obligation to you for it.” The priest was a good-natured soul, and answered, that he most willingly would do it, and in speaking with him he said he should soon discover the state of the case, and by talking seriously to him, would get this maggot out of his head. He went home with them, and when arrived where Grasso was, he entered the room when he was busy with his own thoughts. Grasso no sooner saw him, than he rose; the Priest said, “Good night, Matteo.”

“Good night to you,” said Grasso, “what brings you this way?”

“I am come to spend a little time with thee,” said the Priest, and having taken a seat, “sit by me,” said he, “and I will tell thee my mind.” Grasso obeyed him, and sat down. “Now,” said the Priest, “I’ll tell you the reason, Matteo, why I came; it is first, because I have heard, and much it grieves me, that yesterday thou wert taken to prison on account of some debt: and, in the second place, that thou hast felt, and still feelest the greatest distress, which has almost driven thee mad; and among other nonsense of that kind, that thou wilt not believe but that thou art no longer Matteo, and insistest that thou art another person, called Grasso, the carver. Thou art much to blame to let such a trifling thing so distress you as almost to make you mad, and suffer yourself to be laughed at to your great discredit. In truth, Matteo, I will not have you do so, and I do desire that, for the love of me, thou wouldst promise me to give up this folly, and attend to thy business as an honourable man, like other people, by which means thou wilt delight thy brothers; for, if this circumstance were to be known, it would be said thou hadst lost thy intellect, and although thou mightest perfectly recover, yet it would ever be thought that thou wert still subject to fits of insanity, and thou wouldst be a lost man; therefore, to end the matter, determine now to be a man, not a simpleton, and give over all this nonsense; whether thou be Grasso or not Grasso, do as I advise you, for I counsel thee for thy good.” Thus saying, he smiled kindly at him. Grasso having heard how benevolently he admonished him, not doubting but he must be Matteo, answered him directly, “that he certainly was disposed to do whatever he could to obey him,” and he promised that, hereafter, he would exert himself, and endeavour not to think of his being any thing but Matteo, as he was; but that he wanted him to do him a very great favour, if it was possible, and this was, that he wished very much indeed to speak to that said Grasso, so as to convince himself of his own identity: to which the Priest answered, “this is all nonsense and much against your interest; I see thou hast still this whimsy in thy head.”

“What the devil have you to do with the fellow? what do you want with that Grasso, that you should eternally be talking of him? the more you make this thing public the worse it will be for you,” and so much did he talk to him, that he at last prevailed on him to give up the idea of seeing him, and having left him, he told the brothers what he had said and done, and what Matteo had promised: thus taking leave of them, he made the best of his way to the church.

While the Priest had remained with Matteo, Philip of Brunelesco had come secretly into another room. Much to his amusement, he heard the whole account from one of the brothers, of his going out of the prison—their conversation in their way home, and the rest: after which, putting a small powder in a cup, he said to one of the brothers, “contrive, while you are at supper, to give him this in a glass of wine, or any thing else you can, so that he may not notice it. This is an opiate, which will set him so fast asleep, that though you mumbled and tumbled him ever-so-much, he would not wake for several hours; and I will be with you by five o’clock, and we will settle the rest of the business.” The brothers having returned to the room, they sat down with him to supper, and it was already three o’clock. Thus as they supped, they gave him the potion unnoticed by him; the which so perfectly stupified him, that he was unable to keep his eyes open. The brothers then said to him, “Matteo, thou seemest to be dead asleep, thou must have had little sleep last night,” to which Grasso replied, “I protest, in the whole course of my life, I never felt so sleepy; I feel as if I had not slept for a whole month, therefore I think I had better go to bed,” and he began to undress, but scarcely was he able to pull off his shoes and stockings, and get into bed. No sooner did he get into bed but he fell fast asleep, and snored like a pig.