“Quid sibi vult, illa Pinus, quÀm semper statis diebus in deum matris intromittis sanctuarium?”—Arnobius, i. 5.

There was once a young man named Constanzo, who was blessed, as they say, in form and fortune, he being both fair in face and rich. Now, whether it was that what he had seen and learned of ladies at court had displeased him, is not recorded or remembered, but one thing is certain, that he had made up his mind to marry a poor girl, and so began to look about among humble folk at the maids, which indeed pleased many of them beyond belief, though it was taken ill by their parents, who had but small faith in such attentions.

But the one whom it displeased most of all was the mother of Constanzo, who, when he said that he would marry a poor girl, declared in a rage that he should do nothing of the kind, because she would allow no such person to come in the house. To which he replied that as he was of age, and the master, he would do as he pleased. Then there were ill words, for the mother had a bad temper and worse will, and had gone the worst way to work, because of all things her son could least endure being governed. And she was the more enraged because her son had hitherto always been docile and quiet, but she now found that she had driven him up to a height which he had not before dreamed of occupying and where he would now remain. But she vowed vengeance in her heart, saying: “Marry or not—this shall cost thee dear. Te lo farÒ pagare!”

Many months passed, and no more was said, when one day the young gentleman went to the chase with his friends, and impelled by some strange influence, took a road and went afar into a part of the country which was unknown to him. At noon they dismounted to rest, when, being very thirsty, Constanzo expressed a desire for water.

And just as he said it there came by a contadina, carrying two jars of water, cold and dripping, fresh from a fountain. And the young signor having drunk, observed that the girl was of enchanting or dazzling beauty, with a charming expression of innocence, which went to his heart.“What is thy name?” he asked.

“Constanza,” the girl replied.

“And I am Constanzo,” he cried; “and as our names so our hearts shall be—one made for the other!”

“But you are a rich lord, and I am a poor girl,” she slowly answered, “so it can never be.”

But as both had loved at sight, and sincerely, it was soon arranged, and the end was that the pair were married, and Constanza became a signora and went to live in the castle with her lord. His mother, who was more his enemy than ever, and ten times that of his wife, made no sign of anger, but professed love and devotion, expressing delight every day and oftener that her son had chosen so fair a wife, and one so worthy of him.

It came to pass that Constanza was about to become a mother, and at this time her husband was called to the wars, and that so far away that many days must pass before he could send a letter to his home. But his mother showed herself so kind, though she had death and revenge at her heart, that Constanzo was greatly relieved, and departed almost light of heart, for he was a brave man, as well as good, and such people borrow no trouble ere it is due.

But the old signora looked after him with bitterness, saying, “Thou shalt pay me, and the hour is not far off.” And when she saw his wife she murmured:

“Now revenge shall take its shape;
Truly thou canst not escape;
Be it death or be it dole,
I will sting thee to the soul.”

Then when the hour came that the countess was to be confined, the old woman told her that she herself alone would serve and attend to all—e che avrebbe fatto tutto da se. But going forth, she found a pine-tree and took from it a cone, which she in secret set to boil in water, singing to it:

“Bolli, bolli!
Senza posa.
Che nel letto
Vi É la sposa,
Un fanciullo
Alla luce mi dara,
E una pina diventera!“Bolli, bolli!
Mio decotto
Bolli, bolli!
Senza posa!
Il profumo
Che tu spandi,
Si spanda
In corpo alla
Alla sposa e il figlio,
Il figlio che fara
Pina d’ oro diventera!”

“Boil and boil,
Rest defying!
In the bed
The wife is lying;
Soon her babe
The light will see,
But a pine-cone
It shall be!

“Boil and boil,
And well digest!
Boil and boil,
And never rest!
May the perfume
Which you spread
Thrill the body
To the head,
And the child
Which we shall see,
A golden pine-cone
Let it be!”

And soon the countess gave birth to a beautiful daughter with golden hair, but the old woman promptly took the little one and bathed it in the water in which she had boiled the pine-cone, whereupon it became a golden pine-cone, and the poor mother was made to believe that this was her first-born; and the same was written to the father, who replied to his wife that, whatever might happen, he would ever remain as he had been.

The mother-in-law took the pine-cone and placed it on a mantelpiece, as such curious or odd things are generally disposed of. And when her son returned she contrived in so many ways and with craft to calumniate his wife that the poor lady was ere long imprisoned in a tower.

But a strange thing now happened, for every night the pine-cone, unseen by all, left like a living thing its place on the chimney-piece and wandered over the castle, returning at five o’clock to its place, but ever going just below the lady’s window, where it sang:

“O cara madre mia!
Luce degli occhi miei!
Cessa quel pianto,
E non farmi piÙ soffrir!”

“O mother, darling mother,
Light of my eyes, I pray
That thou wilt cease thy weeping,
So mine may pass away.”

Yet, after he had shut his wife up in the tower, Constanzo had not an instant’s peace of mind. Therefore, to be assured, he one day went to consult the great magician Virgil. And having told all that had happened, the wise man said:

“Thou hast imprisoned thy wife, she who is pure and true, in a tower, and all on the lying words and slanders of that vile witch your mother. And thou hast suffered bitterly, and well deserved it, as all do who are weak enough to believe evil reports of a single witness; for who is there who may not lie, especially among women, when they are jealous and full of revenge? Now do thou set free thy wife (and bid her come to me and I will teach her what to do).”

So the count obeyed.

Then the mother took the pine-cone and threw it up three times into the air, singing:

“Pina, mia bella pina!
Dei pini tu sei regina!
Dei pini sei prottetrice,
D’ un pino pianta la radice!
E torna una fanciulla bella
Come un occhio
Di sole in braccio
A tuo padre
Ed a tua madre!

“Pine, the fairest ever seen,
Of all cones thou art the queen!
Guarding them in sun or shade,
And ’tis granted that, when planted,
Thou shalt be a charming maid,
Ever sweet and ever true
To thy sire and mother too.”

And this was done, and the cone forthwith grew up a fair maid, who was the joy of her parents’ life. But the people in a rage seized on the old witch, who was covered with a coat of pitch and burned alive in the public square.

This legend was gathered in and sent to me from Siena. As a narrative it is a fairy-tale of the most commonplace description, its incidents being found in many others. But so far as the pine-cone is concerned it is of great originality, and retains remarkable relics of old Latin lore. The pine-tree was a favourite of Cybele, and it was consecrated to Silvanus, who is still known and has a cult in the mountains of the Romagna Toscana. This rural deity often bore a pine-cone in his hand. Propertius also assigns the pine to Pan. The cone was pre-eminently a phallic emblem, therefore specially holy; in this sense it was placed on the staff borne by the specially initiated to Bacchus. It was incredibly popular as an amulet, on account of its supposed magical virtues, therefore no one object is more frequently produced in ancient art. A modern writer, observing this, and not being able to account for it, very feebly attributes it to the fact that the object is so common that it is naturally used for a model. “Artists,” he says, “in fact prefer to use what comes ready to hand, and to copy such plants as are ever under their eye.” So writes the great dilettante Caylus, forgetting that a thousand objects quite as suitable to decoration as the pine-cone, and quite as common, were not used at all.

The pine typified a new birth, according to Friedrich; this was because it was evergreen, and therefore sacred as immortal to Cybele. Thus Ovid (“Metamorphoses,” x. 103) writes, “Pinus grata deum matri.” The French Layard, in the new “Annales de l’Institut ArchÆologique,” vol. xix., has emphatically indicated the connection of the pine-cone with the cult of Venus, and as a reproductive symbol. It is in this sense clearly set forth in the Italian or Sienese legend, where the pine-cone planted in the earth grows up as the girl with golden locks. This is very probably indeed the relic of an old Roman mythical tale or poem.

The golden pine-cone appears in other tales. Wolf (“Zeitschrift fÜr deutsche Mythologie,” vol. i., p. 297) says that in Franconia there were once three travelling Handwerksburschen, or craftsmen, who met with a beautiful lady, who when asked for alms gave to each a pine-cone from a tree. Two of them threw the gifts away, but the third found his changed to solid gold. In order to make an amulet which is kept in the house, pine-cones are often gilded in Italy. I have seen them here in Florence, and very pretty ornaments they make.