“Magic is genius most mysterious,
And poetry is genius passed to form,
And these allied give birth to Eloquence;
For never yet was there an orator
Who did not owe his best to Poetry.”—C. G. L.

There was once a young man named Cicero, who was a student with Virgil, and who, being poor, served the great magician in all things.

When Christmas came, with the New Year, Virgil, being well pleased with his fidelity, resolved to make a handsome gift to Cicero, and so said:

“Che vuoi? What wilt thou have?”

“I would like,” replied young Cicero, “to be master of the art of speech”—Il dono di parlar bene.

“Would you not prefer wealth?” asked Virgil.

“He who hath a ready tongue can have his will mid old or young,” answered Cicero; “and as the proverb says:

“Chi ha eloquenza,
Ad ogni cosa ha pretenza.”

“He who hath but eloquence
Hath unto everything pretence.”

“But do not forget,” remarked Virgil, “that amiable speech is courteous and refined. And remember to always speak well of women—everywhere.”

“If it be false, or if it be true,
Speak gently of women, whatever you do.”

After a while Cicero, wanting change of life or to try his fortune, left Virgil and Rome, going first to Florence and then to Ravenna, where his parents dwelt.

So ever travelling on afoot, he came one night to a solitary place among rocks in a forest, where he saw at some distance a ruined castle. And entering, hoping to find a place to sleep, he was astonished to perceive a light, and going further, came into a spacious hall, where, seated at a table, were six gentlemen and a lady, all of them far more beautiful and magnificent in every respect than ordinary mortals, especially the lady, who, as Cicero thought, surpassed all women whom he had ever seen, as the moon outshines the stars.

“Salve Domine!” exclaimed the scholar; “and excuse my intrusion, since I did not expect to find company here, though I would have indeed come many a day’s journey, had I known of it, to behold such handsome and brilliant cavaliers, and such a marvel of beauty as yon lady, as all the world would do.”

“Thou hast a smooth tongue and a sweet gift of speech,” replied the lady, with a smile; “and I not only thank thee for the whole company, but invite thee to sup with us, and lodge here, and be most welcome.”

So they supped gaily; and Cicero, who from the company of Virgil and his friends and the court was familiar with the world, was amazed, and wondered who these marvellous people could be. At last he chanced to ask:

“What day of the week is this?”

“Truly you can here take your choice,” replied the lady, with a laugh. “But of all the days of the week, which do you prefer?”

“Friday,” replied Cicero; “because it is the only one which bears a woman’s name or that of Venus. Evviva Venere, evviva le donne!

“Hurrah for Venus, whate’er befall!
Long life unto love, and to ladies all!”

“This youth has a tongue of gold and honey,” said the lady. “And what do you think of the other days of the week?”

“Other people do not think much about them in any way,” replied Cicero. “But that is not the case with me. To me they are all saints and gods. Domenica is a holy name, which praises the Lord. Giovedi (Tuesday) is the day of Jove, and that is a glorious name. Evviva Giove! So it is with them all; and were I rich enough, I would build a temple to the days of the week wherein to worship them.”

“That money shall not be wanting, O thou happy man!” replied the lady. “Knowest thou who we are? We are the Seven Days of the Week; and for what thou hast said of me, every Friday thou shalt find a hundred gold crowns under thy pillow. And when thou needest any special favour, then pray to us all.”

And as he heard the last word Cicero fell asleep. When he awoke he was alone in the ruin, but by him was a purse with one hundred crowns in gold.

Then in time Cicero built the temple, as he had promised, to Venus, and in it he placed all the images of the seven gods. Then whoever wanted a favour invoked those deities, as indeed did Cicero when he needed aught; and those gods were the seven youths, and those youths whom he had found in the hall were the days of the week.

Then for a time Cicero lived in happiness. But something came to disturb it, for one morning he saw at a window near by a young lady of such marvellous beauty that he was as if enchanted, nor was she less pleased with him.

“Tell me, thou splendid star,” said Cicero, “the very truth now passing in thy mind. Dost thou love me?”

“In very truth,” she replied, “I do love thee. O Cicero, but thou lovest only to lose, for this day I am to leave Rome never to return, unless thou canst by some miracle so manage it as to prevent the journey, and keep me here!”

Then Cicero went to the Temple of the Days and conjured them thus:

“Lunedi e Marte! (Martedi.)
Fai che la stella mia non parta!
Mercurio e Giove!
Fai che la stella non mova!”“Monday and Tuesday,
I pray you cause my love to remain!
Wednesday and Thursday,
Let her not move!
Venus, thou who art the fairest day,
The one whom I most adore!
Thou who hast put me in the way of wealth,
And unto whom I truly built a temple,
As I did promise in the bygone time,
And as thou thyself didst promise,
That if I needed aught, and came to thee,
My wishes should be granted, now I pray
To Venus and to Saturn—Saturday,
That as I have no peace, and none can know,
Till I have won the maid, give her to me!
And thou, O Sunday, when the wedding comes,
I pray thee give her to me with thy hand!”

Then a voice from the depth of the temple replied:

“Because thou hast spoken so well,
What thou hast asked is granted;
She whom thou lovest
Is not of the race of men;
She is an enchantress,
Born of Venus, who loves her,
Venus, who bent her to love thee;
The grace is granted:
Wed and be happy!”

This pretty and fanciful, or strange, tale recalls that in the “Pentamerone” of Gianbattista Basile, the Neapolitan, in which a young man meets the Twelve Months in human form, and pleases March by speaking well of him. In this story the hero is a famed orator, who not only possesses the gaber—or “gift of the gab”—but of whom we are told how he came by it, namely, from Virgil, whose verse has indeed for ages wakened eloquence in many hearts.

The days of the week in English are derived as follows:

According to this, Friday is the luckiest day, because Frey was the god who gave good fortune, and Freya, his female counterpart, was the Northern Venus. The Italian names with their gods correspond to ours, as the deities of the North resembled those of the Latin pantheon. As this is an interesting subject, I take from the Italian Historical-Mythological Dictionary the following:

“Settimana is a time composed of seven days. Dion Cassius asserts that the Egyptians were the first to divide time into periods of seven days, and that it was suggested by the seven planets. However, the ancients in this did not follow the rule, since in that case we should have had Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, the Sun, Venus, Mercury, and the Moon. Saturday, Sabato, is derived from Saturn, who ruled the first hour.”

It was, in fact, from the disposition of the hours that the days of the week received their names; hence the transposition of names, as is very ingeniously worked out by the author.

It is almost amusing to observe that in this, as in all tales coming from a witch source, the incantations, though not at all necessary to the story, are given with scrupulous care.

To the reader who would seriously study Cicero, yet in a deeply interesting form, I commend “Cicero and his Friends,” by Gaston Bussier (London: A. D. Innes and Co., 1897). According to this genial and vigorous French writer, there is a great deal of mystery as to the manner in which the noble orator acquired the money to purchase estates and villas, when he was notoriously devoid of income. It is true that a great deal of public money was passing through his hands just then, but as he was as incorruptible and pure as an average American senator, of course this cannot account for his acquisitions. Here the legend comes to our aid and meets the difficulty. Having the Seven Days to draw upon, which probably means infinite extension of time and renewal of his notes, the great Roman, borrowing, like his friend CÆsar, by millions, got along very comfortably. In fact, they borrowed so much that all Rome was interested in their prosperity, and helped to make them rich that they might pay.