“Thus playing sweetly on the flageolet,
He charmed them all; and playing yet again,
Led them away, won by the magic sound.”

De Pueris HamleËnsibus, 1400.

There is in the Toscana Romagna a place known as La Valle della Fame, or Valley of Hunger, in which dwelt a family of peasants, or three brothers and two sisters. The elder brother had married a wife who was good and beautiful, and she had given birth to a daughter, but died when the babe was only one year old. Then, according to the advice of the sisters and brothers, he married again, that he might have someone to take care of his child. The second wife was a pretty young woman, but after she had been wedded a year she gave birth to a daughter, who was very ugly indeed and evil; but the mother seemed to love her all the more for this, and began to hate the elder, who was as good and beautiful as an angel. And as her hatred grew she beat and abused the poor little girl all day long.

One morning the latter went into the woods to hide herself from her stepmother till it should be evening, when she could return home and be safe with her father and aunts. And while sitting all alone beneath a tree, she heard a bird above her singing so sweetly that she felt enchanted. It was a marvellous sound, at times like the music of a flute played by a fairy, then like a human voice carolling in soft tones, and then like a horn echoing far away. The little girl said:

“Oh dear, sweet bird, I wish I could pipe and play like you!”

As she said this the bird fell from the tree, and when she picked it up she found that it was a zufolo, or shepherd’s flageolet, in the form of a bird. And when she blew on it, it gave forth such sweet sounds—suone belle da rimanere incantati—as would charm all who heard them. And as she practised, she found the art to play it seemed to come of itself, and every now and then she could hear a fairy voice in the sound speaking to her.

Now, this was a miracle which had been wrought by Virgil the magician, who did so many wonderful things in the olden time.

In the evening she returned home and played on the bird-pipe, and all were charmed except the stepmother, who alone heard in the music a voice which said:

“Though sweet thy smile, and smooth thy brow,
Evil and cold at heart art thou;
I never yet did harm to thee,
Yet thou hast beat me cruelly,
And given me curses fierce and wild
Because I’m fairer than thy child.
Unless thou lettest me alone
Henceforth, all ill shall be thine own,
With all the suffering I have known.”

But to the girl the pipe sang:

“Sing to thy father, gently say
That thou the morrow goest away,
And tell him thou hast borne too long
Great cruelty and cruel wrong;
For truly he was much to blame
That he so long allowed the same;
But now the evil spell is broken,
The time has come, the word is spoken!”

Then her father would fain have kept her, but the spell was on her, and she went out into the wide world playing on her pipe. And when she was in the woods, the birds and wild beasts came and listened to her and did as she bade; and when she was in towns, the people gathered round and were charmed to hear her play, and gave her money and often jewels, and no one dared to say an evil word to her, for a spell was on her, and a charm which kept away evil.

So years passed by, and she was blooming into maidenhood, when one day a young lord, passing with his mother, who was a woman as noble of soul and good as her son, paused to hear the girl play on her pipe and sing, for they thought the marvellous song of the zufolo was her voice.

Then the lady asked the girl if she would enter a monastery, where she would be educated and brought up to live in a noble family in return for her music. The girl replied that she had already a great deal of money and many jewels, but that she would be very glad to be better educated and advanced in life. So she entered the convent, where she was very happy, and the end thereof was that she became betrothed to the young signore, and great preparations were made for the wedding.

Now, the stepmother had but one idea in life, which was that her own daughter should make some great match, and for this purpose she was glad when the second went away, as she hoped, to become a mere vagabond, playing the flute for a living. But when she heard that the girl was very prosperous in a convent in Florence, and had not only been educated like a princess in the best society, but would ere long marry a nobleman, she became mad with rage; and going to a witch, she paid her a great sum to prepare a powder which, if strewed in the path of the bride, would cause her prompt and agonizing pain, and after a time death in the most dreadful suffering. And this was to be laid in the way of the wedding procession. But on that morning the pipe sang:

“Where’er on earth the wind doth blow,
All leaves and dust before it go.
Evil or good, they fly away
Before its breath, as if in play;
And so shall it for thee this day,
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
And death to the witch, for so it must
Ever happen as ’twas decreed,
For death is the pay for an evil deed!”

Now, the bridegroom and all friends had begged the bride to play the flute as she walked in the wedding procession, and she did so, and it seemed to her that it had never played so sweetly. The stepmother was looking on anxiously in the crowd, and when the bride was just coming to the powder in the way, the wicked woman cried:

“Play louder—louder!”

The bride, to oblige everyone, blew hard, and a wind came from the pipe which blew all the powder into the stepmother’s eyes and open mouth, and in an instant she gave a cry of agony, and then rolled on the ground, screaming:

“Il polvore! I have swallowed the powder!”

And the flute played:

“By thy mother I was slain;
A fairy gave me life again.
I was killed for jealousy,
And all as false as false could be.
Now thou art dead and I am free.”

And from that time the pipe played no more. But the young lady married the signore, and all went well with them.

And this was done by Virgil, who was ever benevolent.

The pipe, flute, or whistle, which fascinates all who hear it, is to be found in the traditions of all races, from the story of Orpheus onward; it even forms the plot of what is one of the prettiest tales of the Algonkin Indians, [126] and one which is probably original with them. What is also common to many is the conception of the one unjustly put to death turned into a musical instrument, which by a song betrays the murderer. But what is peculiar to this story is the power of the pipe to blow away enchantment and dissipate the witch-dust laid in the path. This is a very ingenious addition to the conception of the music and voice.

It is to be observed that sometimes rustic performers on the pipe, who have chiefly learned their music in the woods from birds and Nature, sometimes attain to a very fascinating and singular execution, quite unlike that which is heard from the most cultivated and artistic musicians. The celebrated Dr. Justinus Kerner, whom I have heard play, could produce on the Jew’s-harp such results as would be deemed incredible. It struck me as an extraordinary expression of will and character beyond all teaching or imitation.

There are also many learned writers on music who are not aware that the human throat or voice is capable of producing sounds which are not, so to speak, vocal, but like those of the musical-box and several wind-instruments. This accomplishment is common among the blacks of the Southern States, and the performances, as I can bear witness, are most extraordinary and amazing. I once mistook the playing of two coloured boys in Nashville for the sound of a somewhat distant hand-organ. Even the twang of the banjo is thus rendered with startling accuracy. It is also true that reed-pipes can be made which, by combining the voice and blowing (as with the mirliton), give results which are very little known, but which probably suggested this and other tales in which the flute or pipe speaks. There are not many people who know the bull-roarer save as a boy’s toy—that is to say, a mere flat bit of wood whirled round at the end of a cord—but by modification and combination, this or several of them produce sounds like those of an organ; and when heard by night at a distance, the effect is such as to fairly awe those who are ignorant of its cause. Finally, there is the application by a tube of air to the Æolian harp, etc., so as to produce tunes, which is very remarkable, and as little known as the rest—albeit, a traveller, who found something of the kind among the heathen, avowed his belief that something might be made of it. If people would only find out what resources they all have within themselves, or in very cheap and easily-made instruments, there might be far more music or art in the world than there now is. On which subject the reader may consult a book, written by me, and entitled “The Cheapest Musical Instruments,” etc., now being published by Whittaker and Co., 2, White Hart Street, London.