La Fortuna

“One day Good Luck came to my home,
I begged of her to stay.
‘There’s no one loves you more than I,
Oh, rest with me for aye,’
‘It may not be; it may not be,
I rest with no one long,’ said she.”

—“_Witch Ballads_,” by C. G. LELAND.

The manner in which many of the gods in exile still live in Italy is very fully illustrated by the following story:

“It is a hard thing sometimes now-a-days for a family to pass for noble if they are poor, or only poor relations. But it was easy in the old time, Signore Carlo, easy as drinking good Chianti. A signore had only to put his shield with something carved on it over his window, and he was all right. He was noble _senza dubbio_.

“Now the nobles had their own noble stories as to what these noble pictures in stone meant, but the ignoble people often had another story just as good. Coarse woollen cloth wears as well as silk. Now you may see on an old palazzo in the Via de’ Cerchi, and indeed in several other places, a shield with three rings. But people call them three wheels. And this is the story about the three wheels.”

LA FORTUNA.

“There was a man, _tanto buono_, as good as could be, who lived in squalid misery. He had a wife and two children, one blind and another _storpia_ or crippled, and so ugly, both—_non si dice_—beyond telling!

“This poor man in despair often wept, and then he would repeat:

“‘The wheel of Fortune turns, they say,
But for me it turns the other way;
I work with good-will, but do what I may,
I have only bad luck from day to day.’

“‘Yes, little to eat and less to wear, and two poor girls, one blind and one lame. People say that Fortune is blind herself, and cannot walk, but she does not bless those who are like her, that is sure!’ And so he wailed and wept, till it was time to go forth to seek work to gain their daily bread. And a hard time he had of it.

“Now it happened that very late one night, or very early one morning, as one may say, between dark and dawn, he went to the forest to cut wood. When having called to Fortune as was his wont—_Ai_! what was his surprise to see—_tutta ad un tratto_—all at once, before his eyes, a gleam of light, and raising his head, he beheld a lady of enchanting beauty passing along rapidly, and yet not walking—on a rolling ball—_e ciondolava le gambe_—moving her limbs—I cannot say feet, for she had none. In place of them were two wheels, and these wheels, as they turned, threw off flowers from which there came delicious perfume.

“The poor man uttered a sigh of relief seeing this, and said:

“‘Beautiful lady, believe me when I say that I have invoked thee every day. Thou art the Lady of the Wheels of Fortune, and had I known how beautiful thou art, I would have worshipped thee for thy beauty alone. Even thy very name is beautiful to utter, though I have never been able to couple it with mine, for one may see that I am not one of the fortunate. Yet, though thou art mine enemy, give me, I pray, just a little of the luck which flies from thy wheel!

“‘Yet do not believe, I pray, that I am envious of those who are thy favourites, nor that because thou art my enemy that I am thine, for if thou dost not deem that I am worthy, assuredly I do not deserve thy grace, nor will I, like many, say that Fortune is not beautiful, for having seen thee, I can now praise thee more than ever.’

“‘I do not cast my favours always on those who deserve them,’ replied Fortune, ‘yet this time my wheel shall assist thee. But tell me, thou man of honesty and without envy, which wouldst thou prefer—to be fortunate in all things thyself alone, or to give instead as much good luck to _two_ men as miserable as thou art? If thou wilt gain the prize for thyself alone, turn and pluck one of these flowers! If for others, then take two.’

“The poor man replied: ‘It is far better, lady, to raise two families to prosperity than one. As for me, I can work, and I thank God and thee that I can do so much good to so many, although I do not profit by it myself;’ and saying this, he advanced and plucked two flowers.

“Fortune smiled. ‘Thou must have heard,’ she said, ‘that where I spend, I am lavish and extravagant, and assuredly thou knowest the saying that “Three is the lucky number,” or nine. Now I make it a rule that when I relieve families, I always do it by threes—_la spando à tre famiglie_—so do thou go and pluck a flower for thyself!’

“Then the poor man, hearing this, went to the wheels, and let them turn till a very large fine flower came forth, and seized it, whereat Fortune smiled, and said:

“‘I always favour the bold. Now go and sit on yonder bench till some one comes.’ And saying this, she vanished.

“There came two very poor woodcutters whom he knew well. One had two sons, another a son and a daughter, and one and all were as poor and miserable as could be.

“‘What has come over thee, that thou art looking so handsome and young,’ said one amazed, as he came up.

“‘And what fine clothes!’ remarked the second.

“‘It shall be so anon for ye both,’ replied the favourite of Fortune; ‘only take these flowers and guard them well.’

“Si, Signore, they sat down on the bench three beggars, and they rose three fine cavaliers, in velvet and satin, with gold-mounted swords, and found their horses and attendants waiting. And when they got home, they did not know their wives or children, nor were they known unto them, and it was an hour before all was got right. Then all went with them as if it were oiled. The first man found a great treasure the very first day in his cellar—in fine, they all grew rich, and the three sons married the three girls, and they all put the three wheels on their _scudi_. One of the wheels is the ball on which Fortune rolled along, and the other two are her feet; or else the three men each took a wheel to himself. Anyhow, there they are, pick and choose, Signore—_chi ha piú cervello_, _l’usi_!—let him who has brains, brain!

“Now, it is a saying that _ogni fior non fa frutto_—every blossom doth not bear a fruit—but the flowers of Fortune bear fruit enough to make up for the short crop elsewhere.

“But there is some sense and use in such stories as these, Signore, after all; for a poor devil who half believes—and very often quite believes in them—gets a great deal of hope and comfort out of them. They make him trust that luck or fairies or something will give him a good turn yet some day—_chi sa_?—and so he hopes, and truly, as they say that no pretty girl is ever quite poor, so no man who hopes is ever really broken—_grazie_, _Signore_! I hope to tell you another story before long.”

* * * * *

There is something in the making Fortune with _two_ heels for feet which suggests a memory of skate-rollers.

I once published an article in the _Ethnologische Monatsheft_ of Budapest, which set forth more fully the idea expressed in this tale, that the popular or fairy tale is a source of comfort, or a Bible to the poor, for it always teaches the frequently delusive, but always cheering lesson that good-luck or fortune may turn up some day, even for the most unfortunate. The Scripture promises happiness for the poorest, or indeed specially for the poorest in the next life; the fairy tale teaches that Cinderella, the despised, and the youngest, humblest of the three, will win fortune while here on earth. It inspires hope, which is a great secret of happiness and success.

To which the learned Flaxius annotates:

“It hath escaped the author—as it hath indeed all mankind—that as the first syllable of Fortuna is _fort_ (Latin _fortis_), so the true beginning of luck is strength; and if we are to understand by _una_, ‘one’ or ‘only,’ we may even believe that the name means strength alone or vigorous will, in accordance with which the ancients declared that ‘Fortune favours the bold,’ and also _Fortuna contentionis studiosa est_—‘Fortune delights in strife.’ Therefore she is ever fleeting in this world. _Fortuna simul cum moribus immutatur_, as Boethius hath it.”