Biancone, The Giant Statue In The Signoria

“_Fons Florentinus_.—In foro lympidas aquas fons effundit marmoreis
figuris Neptuni et Faunorum ab Amanate confectis.”—_Templum Naturæ
Historicum_. HENRICI KORNMANNI, A.D. 1614.

The most striking object in the most remarkable part of Florence is the colossal marble Neptune in the Fountain of the Signoria, by Ammanati, dating from 1575. He stands in a kind of car or box, drawn by horses which Murray declares “are exceedingly spirited.” They are indeed more so than he imagined, for according to popular belief, when the spirit seizes them and their driver, and the bronze statues round them, they all go careering off like mad beings over the congenial Arno, and even on to the Mediterranean! That is to say, that they did so on a time, till they were all petrified with their driver in the instant when they were bounding like the billows, which are typified by white horses.

Neptune has, however, lost his name for the multitude, who simply call him the Biancone, or Great White Man; and this is the legend (given to me in writing by a witch), by which he is popularly known:

BIANCONE, THE GOD OF THE ARNO.

“Biancone was a great and potent man, held in great respect for his grandeur and manly presence, a being of tremendous strength, and the true type of a magician, he being a wizard indeed. In those days there was much water in the Arno, and Biancone passed over it in his car.

“There was then in the Arno a witch, a beautiful girl, the _vera dea_ or true goddess of the river, in the form of an eel. And Biancone finding this fish every day as he drove forth in his chariot, spurned it away _con cattivo garbo_—with an ill grace. And one day when he had done this more contemptuously than usual, the eel in a rage declared she would be revenged, and sent to him a smaller eel. But Biancone crushed its head (_le stiaccio il chapo_).

“Then the eel appeared with a little branch of olive with berries, and said:

“‘Entro in questa carozza,
Dove si trove l’uomo,
L’uomo il più potente,
Che da tutti e temuto;
Ed e un uomo grande,
E grande, e ben vero;
Ma il gran dio del Arno,
Il potente Biancone,
Non sara il solo potente;
Vi sara una piccola pesce,
Una piccola anguilla;
Benche piccola la sia;
Fara vedere la sua potenza
Tu Bianconé, a mi,
Le magie, e siei mezzo stregone
Io una piccola anguillina,
Sono una vera fata,
E sono la Fata dell Arno,
Tu credevi d’essere
Il solo dio d’Arno,
Ma ci, no, io che sono
La regina, e la vera,
Vera dea qui del Arno.’

“‘Lo, I enter in this chariot!
Where I find the man of power,
Who is feared by all before him,
And he is a mighty being,
Great he is, there’s no denying;
But the great god of the Arno,
The so powerful Biancone,
Is not all alone in power;
There’s a little fish or eel, who,
Though but little, has the power,
Mighty man, to make thee tremble!
Biancone, thou art only
Unto me as half a wizard;
I, a little eel of the Arno,
Am the fairy of the river;
Thou didst deem thyself its ruler;
I deny it—for I only
Am the queen and the true goddess—
The true goddess of the Arno.’

“Having said this, she touched with the twig of olive the little eel whom Biancone had killed, and repeated while touching it:

“‘Anguillina che dal Grande
Siei stata stiacciata,
Io con questo ramoscello
Ti faccio in vita tornare,
E al Grande, io, del Arno
Tutto il mio pensiero,
Tutto posso raccontare.’

“‘I, little eel, who by the mighty
Man hast been to death delivered,
Do call thee back unto the living!
Wake thee with this twig of olive!
Now unto this Biancone,
Thou who art too of the Arno,
Shalt speak out thy mind and freely.’

“Then the little eel, resuscitated and influenced by the goddess of the Arno, said:

“‘Biancone, tu che siei
Il potente dio dell’ Arno,
L’anguilla discacciata,
Che tu ai discacciata,
E di te inamorata,
E di te più potente,
E se tu la discaccerai,
Ti giura la vendetta,
E si vendichera. . . .’

“‘Biancone, Biancone!
Thou great spirit of the Arno,
Lo, the eel by thee despised
Turns again with love unto thee:
She surpasses thee in power;
If she is by thee rejected,
She will vow revenge upon thee,
And will be avengèd truly.’

“Biancone replied:

“‘Io non voglio amar donne,
Sia pure d’una bellezza
Da fare a cecare,
Ma per me non mi fa niente,
Non voglio amare donne,
Sara per bellezza una
Gran persona, ma non vero,
Per potenza, per che più,
Più potente di me non
Vi e alcun . . . ’

“‘I seek not the love of women.
Thou art of a dazzling beauty;
Unto that I am indifferent;
I seek not the love of ladies.
Thou may’st be full great in beauty,
Not in power, for in power
I shall ever be the greater.’

“Then the eel arose and said:

“‘Biancone, or guardami,
Guarda mi bene perche più,
Non mi vedrai vedermi,
E se mi vedrai,
Non mi potrai toccare,
Dici che più potente
Di te non cé nessuno,
Ma sa io la prima,
Mia potenza e quella
Di vederti inamorato,
Di me vere inamorato,
Ma che ora sono io,
Che ti discaccio per la tua,
Al te si guardami mi vedi.’

“‘Biancone, now regard me,
Look well at me now, for never,
Wilt thou ever more behold me,
Or if thou behold’st me, touch me,
And thou say’st that thou hast power,
And that none can rival with thee.
Thou shalt learn that I am stronger,
For I’ve power to make thee love me,
But ’tis I who now reject thee,
If thou doubtest—now behold me!’

“And then, instead of an eel, appeared a maid of dazzling beauty, and Biancone sought to embrace her, but could not, and said:

“‘Contentami una volta
Sola, o dea dell’ Arno;
Lascia che ti abbraci
Una volta sola, o dea.’

“‘For a single time content me,
Lovely goddess of the Arno;
Let me but for once embrace thee,
Yield to me I pray, O fairy!’

“But the goddess of the Arno replied:

“‘Una donna più potente
Di te, non si lascia
Vincere da uno superbo;
Tuo pari mi basta di
Far ti vedere, che c’e
Persona ancora di te
Più potente . . . Ora io
Mi voglio vendi care per che,
Tu mi ai discacciata,
Tante volte, ed ora invece
Tu saresti bene contento
Di abbraciarmi anche,
Anche or per una volta,
Ma no. Addio Biancone!’

“‘A woman who has greater power
Than thine will surely not be conquered
Merely by pride in outward seeming,
But now, in brief, I will content me
By proving mine the greater power;
I seek to avenge myself upon thee,
Since of old thou didst despise me
Many times, but now wouldst gladly,
Though it were but for once, embrace me—
Farewell for ever, Biancone!’

“And Biancone fled, but he always bore the beautiful goddess in his mind, and could not forget her, so he too meditated a vengeance.

“But the vengeance of a woman strikes more powerfully than that of a man.

“One day when Biancone was passing over the Arno in his chariot, with all his attendants, he thought he saw the eel engaged in forming the basin of a fountain (_vasca_), and bear it away in a car, she herself being in it, {156} and it was covered with glass; but in the time that he thought (or dreamed) that he saw this, the eel appeared and said:

“‘Il momenta della mia vendetta
E arrivato, e ti giuro
Giuro che la mia vendetta
E potente, or Turanna,
Mia regina delle Fate,
E dea dell Arno, commanda
Che questa carroza sprafondi,
E che tu e la tua servitu,
Non vi potrete salvare.’

“‘Now the time to wreak my vengeance
Has arrived, and I swear thee
That my vengeance shall be fearful,
Very great, because my sovereign,
Turanna, queen of all the fairies,
Orders that thy chariot
Shall be firmly fixed for ever,
And that thou and all thy following
Never more canst hope for rescue.’

“Then she sang again:

“‘Confino i tuoi servitori,
Quelli che ti aiut avanno
A discacciar sui, o
Diventare della forma,
Mezze bestie, mezzi uomini,
E tu o Biancone,
Che tanto grande siei,
Ti confino a stare sempre,
Sempre ritto e non potrete
Mai ragionare, ne camminare
Solo quando sara luna,
Luna piena, passero io
Ti vedro, e mi vedrai,
Ma parlarmi non potrai.

“‘Quando sara luna piena,
E che sara una notte,
Che sara mezza nuvola,
E mezza serena s’enderai,
Della tua carozza nei,
Nei momenti che la Luna
Resta sotto le nuvole,
E cosi potrei favellare,
Con tutte le statue, che ai
Attorno, allor tua carozza,
E col mio permesso potrai
Andare anche dai tuoi amici!’

“‘I hereby compel thy servants,
Those who aided thee, to vanish,
Or take forms half brute, half human. \
As for thee, O Biancone!
Thou who art so tall and stately,
Thou shalt stand erect for ever,
Without power to speak or wander,
Only when the full moon shining
Falls upon thee, I will pass thee,
I shall see thee; thou will see me,
Without power to address me!

“‘When the moon in full is shining,
Yet when clouds begin to gather;
Half in light and half in darkness,
Thou may’st only in the moment
When the moon is overclouded,
Leave thy chariot, and have converse
With the statues who are round thee,
Then thou may’st, by my permission,
Go among thy friends, then only.’”

* * * * *

I may here explain to the reader that this tale with its elaborate invocations is not current as here given among the _people_. Such forms and formulas are confined to the witches, who, as in all countries, are the keepers of mysterious traditions. All that is generally heard as regards this subject is, that when the full moon shines on Biancone at midnight, he becomes animated, and walks about the Signoria conversing with the other statues.

The Neptune was, with horses and all, produced by Bartolommeo Ammanati between 1564 and 1565. It has a certain merit of grandeur, but in lesser degree is like its neighbour Cacus, by Baccio Bandinelli, which Benvenuto Cellini justly regarded as resembling a mere bag of fat. When Michael Angelo saw the Neptune he exclaimed: “Ammanato! Ammanato! che bel blocco che hai sciupato!”—“Ammanato, what a fine block of marble thou hast spoiled!”

The Italians say that the satyr at the corner of the Palazzo Vecchio is a copy, because the original was stolen one night in January in 1821, “and is now one of the finest bronzes in the British Museum of London.” It may be so; there was a great deal of fine stealing in those days. I suspect, however, that the truth is that as these images return to life now and then, the satyr availed himself of his revivification to set forth on his travels, and coming to London and finding good company in the British Museum, settled down there. But truly, when I think of the wanton and heartless destruction of beautiful and valuable old relics which has gone on of late years in Florence, to no earthly purpose, and to no profit whatever, I feel as if all the tales of such things being stolen or sold away to foreign museums were supremely silly, and as if it were all just so much saved from ruin—in case the tales are true.

“_Hæc fabula docet_,” wrote Flaxius, “a strange lesson. For as it
was anciently forbidden to make images, because it was an imitation
of God’s work; and secondly, because men believed that spirits would
enter into them—even so doth it become all novel-writers, romancers,
and poets, to take good heed how they portray satyrs, free-love
nymphs, and all such deviltry, because they may be sure that into
these models or types there will enter many a youthful soul, who will
be led away thereby to madness and ruin. Which is, I take it, the
most practical explanation for commandment, which hath been as yet
set _coram populo_.”