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January 20, 2017
Argenta's second story
Sandrone e la Tramontana
Once upon a time there was a man named Sandrone, and there was not another workman like him: always in the fields hoeing, digging, sowing seeds, without a moments rest; always happy: the farm spoke well of him, especially the grain that was the winter wheat, then the grapes: more clusters of grapes than leaves, big and fat, you had to see it and taste it; the owner was very contented and never tired of repeating: - Bravo Sandrone, good job.
But the beautiful and the good don’t always last. And so it was that on a beautiful morning in June, Sandrone went off to the farm, to see the blessed view, those beautiful tall wheat fields, that he had never beheld the sky that appeared like the sea as it was serene and spacious every part beginning to cloud over and a swelling harsh wind that seemed to boast of the devil that blew down and then the water turned to a hail storm, a gale so perverse that everything was beaten down everywhere on the farm.
Sandrone shouted and pulled his hair; looked upon his fields crying, because the many kinds of wheat were no more, it was all knocked down, piled up and trampled as if it was in a war.
- Oh, oh this is a calamity, what will happen without grain?…Villain Tramontana, you have to pay me - Sandrone cried and shouted, rolling around on the ground; and his wife Menica cried, and so it seemed as though two lives were cut down. But all of a sudden, Sandrono stood up and in a rage said:
- Goodbye Menica, I am leaving, going away.
She said: - But where are you going?
- To the Tramontana to make him pay for the grain….
- To the Tramontana?…you are mad, my dear Sandro, seriously mad….Do you believe the Wind has money like a person?…come home and don’t be foolish.
- I will go he cried with more and more intent, his mind spinning around and around. And having said these things he got his bearings from the streets and roads, and left.
Walking, walking he came to a small hill where the wind was spiraling around, and began to call:
- Tramontanaaa….
- Vhuhuhuuu
- Oh….I say to you Tramontanaccia - murderess - pay me back my grain.
- Vhuhuhuuu….
- (Tramontana:) Ugly, ignorant, watch out, don’t confuse me with sense…..
- Vhuhuhuuu, (Tramontana:) I don’t care about your wheat. I step where i want, like a woodpecker, and then go away….
Sandrone: Indeed, but I because of you no longer have anything to eat. what will I do, what will I tell my Padrone?
Then Tramontana, showing that, after all, he did have feelings said - Vhuhuhuu - get that little box there under that stone.
Quickly, Sandrone lifted the stone, and underneath there really was a little box; and without thinking too much, he took it.
It was a beautiful little gold box, all worked, but so small it would be hard to even put a coin into it.
Sandrone said “Tramontana, look around you, you know me, what would I do with this trinket.”
“Don’t think about it,” Tramontana said frankly, “that trinket will benefit you.”
“Allright, I will pay attention to you,” Sandrone said, and put it into his pocket.
- Goodnight, Tramontana.
- Vhuhuhuuu, goodnight, Tramontana replied.
At this, Sandrone turned away and headed toward home; but he couldn’t wait to see what was inside the little box: ‘open it? Do not open it?’….wait a little longer.
But when he arrived at a little valley a little more sheltered from the wind, he could no longer contain his curiosity: Porcapoletta! (holy smokes), he said ‘open’ and it opened: and as if by magic a beautiful table with four legs appeared, set with silver, and superfine crystal glasses, transparent porcelain plates, and a tablecloth trimmed with lace.
And there on the table: galantine capone, arrestini (little roasts) of all kinds,
fruits from far away places, fine wines, and a mountain and a half of other tasty goodies. With all this stuff, he sat there all day and never stopped chewing; and always at his command was a handsome waiter dressed in a deep blue silk suit who sometimes said: “bona appetito Mr. Padrone; take a little of this pork chop…but taste this snipe…but savor this anguilini marinate…in a word, a lunch fit for a prince on his holiday.
Look, said Sandrone to this waiter: “dear waiter, I don’t want to press you; I knew before I had a little appetite, but now with all of these dishes stirring around I am like a hungry wolf:
corpo mio, fatti capanna,
meglio crepare, che ne rimanga.
body of mine, make a home (for this food),
better to die, than to leave it there (on the plate).
And there Sandrone began to work his jaw - lippe-lappe - looking like he hadn’t eaten for 100 years, then in a flash the table was cleared of everything, and he asked for a coffee; he said:
‘Waiter, now where did you hide all these trifles.’
The waiter said “Close the box, Mr. Padrone, and everything returns as before.”
“Yes, but what if I need you again?”
“Just reopen the box and I come back for commands.”
“Very well,’’ Sandrone said, “give me a cigar and then I will close it.”
And then the waiter gave him an American cigar, there were none better; and when he lit it for him, he said, “see people” (vede’ gente) and the box closed, and that was that, there was no more; what a grand beautiful game this is.
He put the little box into his inner pocket and continued on his way with the cigar in his mouth.
When he got back home he cocked his hat to one side and began to whistle gaily. Menica waited at the door, and as soon as she saw that jaunty look, she said “What happened to you, eh Sandro, you win the lottery?”
“Another kind of good luck,” he said.
“Well then, tell me, tell me,”
“Put yourself at the table and you will see.”
“At the table?”
“Yes at the table.”
So she went to the table and he went to the front of it and said: “See, people” and the little box opened, and what there was on the table before was now there again.
In fact, every gift of God was on the table.
And Menica, with her eyes wide open at the marvel, didn’t know what to say, she was completely confused, especially because at that moment the well dressed waiter with his peculiar suit said to her:
“Take a seat Signora, help yourself, take what you want, really, everything that adorns this table is his…..”
But Menica didn’t know what she wanted; Sandrone and the waiter asked her again and again, finally she decided on a bowl of tortellini in capon broth, and then a veal cutlet; but that fool couldn’t help herself and instead took four, followed by fruit, and she wanted a coffee; she said “Give me a coffee, but make it a collo schizzo.
Then, after the coffee with a splash of rum, she said she drank all there was to make her believe, but as she licked her plate she said, “I have never been so good.”
“Now, my dear Menica, this nice little box will close and go on a little stroll.”
At that Sandrone did the little trick again of closing the box (and everything vanished.) Menica became angry, she didn’t want him to do that, but he explained everything. He said, “It reopens when you wish.”
Menica said, “But mind me, this is a little task; so now what about signoroni?”
“Signoroni.” she explained…..
“What will the Padrone say?…..”
“Look,” Sandrone said “tomorrow we will also invite the Padrone.”
In fact, the next morning Sandrone went to the home of his Padrone and said, “Bongiorno Master I and my wife would be very, very happy if you would have a bite to eat with us.”
‘Low class peasant’ thought the Padrone, ‘what gave you so much confidence?’
“Excuse me Mr. Padrone, but to tell you frankly, if you like fine food, as we do, you have never tasted…..”
“It seems to me” said il Padrone, shaking his head, “you have become a little crazy.”
“I’m not crazy, what I say is true Mr. Padrone, come, come and see, you will be glad.”
So many words and such pleading touched the Padrone, he had to say yes.
He arrived at the kitchen of the farmer past noon, and sees the table cleared and the fire out; he looks all around, sniffs the air and says “Do I need to give you a cancellation, this is the limit: to make fun of his Padrone….”
“Now then, it’s good, Mr Padrone, sit down and get ready for a little eating.”
The Padrone sits, but in a bad mood; and Sandrone goes to the front with the little box in his hand and says, “One, two three lay a table for a king.”
He opens the box and in a flash the usual result happened: the whole table is filled; and on these beautiful gilded plates, the best food in the world; in these sparkling decanters with emerald caps wines from far away; fruit and more fruit; tarts and tartlets; first rate dining that not even the king of Portugal….”
“Bravo Sandrone,” said the amazed Padrone, “do it again another time.”
Sandrone closed the box, and everything disappeared: plates, glasses, food and waiter.
Then he reopened it and everything reappeared better than before.
“But this is a miracle,” said the Padrone, “what a lovely little box; it would give me great pleasure just to have it…listen to me dear Sandrone, you do one thing, I give you the farm and you (give to me) the little box…do you agree?”
“Look, why not?” Sandrone answered “That we can discuss later, but meanwhile we eat, Mr. Padrone.”
And then they ate with good appetites and much cheer. The waiter never tired of pouring the wine, and every now and then told them a little joke with his own special elegance which made the three of them laugh madly with so much love and feeling one couldn’t tell the master from the farmhand.
After dessert, which was a huge pasta margherita (sponge cake) on which was written “Long Live Il Padrone” Sandrone rose drunkenly and said he wanted to make a speech.
He said “Forgive my familiarity, but I want to say with all my heart, that if sometimes there were fewer bushels of wheat and fewer barrels of wine I have always loved you and never lacked respect.”
“However, now that you give me the farm, and speaking frankly, believe me, Mr. Giuseppe, that this little farm pays pretty well, but you need to understand it doesn’t work itself. To you, you know how much this little box pleases you, and I don’t say you don’t have reason. But I, you see, have great affection for this little piece of land, for many years even my grandfather, good soul, worked it; I would lack the courage to abandon it….”
Sandrone saying these things, almost crying, moved Padrone who took Sandrone by the hand and said, “That’s enough, my dear man, let’s sit down and talk a little about our interests.”
So they talked about their interests, and quickly found themselves in agreement; the receipt was made on two sheets of paper, with his good signature at the bottom. And so be it.
Padrone, entirely satisfied, put the little box into his pocket and returned to his villa.
Sandrone took a turn around his farm with Menica, every now and then he rubbed her hands and said: “But, mind me, this is a big farm! but what beautiful fields! but what olive groves! but what vineyards!…It never seemed so great as now that it is mine.
“Here you put all wheat, here corn, over there sorghum,” he explained to Menica, “from that oak grove there comes a hundred kilos of charcoal!…But mind me, these grapes are good and plump, but one has to sell them!
My dear wife, now we…Oh, we are on what is ours!”
Meanwhile, Padrone was in his villa, he did not know how many card he wrote to friends and family inviting them to dine with him; while laughing to himself thinking: “Who knows what envy (they will have); they will (probably) not even eat from the bile.”
And so, the Padrone had grand dinner parties in his villa; and Sandrone, the farmer, tilled the soil, weeded and pruned from morning till night happy as a clam that the grapes sold as well as hoped for, and that certainly the winery was not of full capacity and would need to be expanded when the timing was good.
Eh, but the weather is not always pleasant, and now the month of august and those showers; yes, some water is required, but it is better not to call for it because of the danger of seeing so much come down to ruin the best of god’s (creations), especially if the wind starts, then no one knows where it will end.
When he finished things one September evening and was just going to tell the workers “Tomorrow morning we are going to harvest that row of sangiovese (popular grapes in Tuscany)….“ when here comes the devilish north wind with hurricane clouds upon clouds, then water to flood, and hail without limit; a hurricane more frightful than the last one so that not a grain remained healthy, and everything was bald on the farm as if the goats had grazed (it bare).
And now here is Sandrone wallowing on his land and crying: “Oh, oh alas:
after all those labors, tribulations, and sweat to find ourselves without so much as a leaf, poor me, what will I do?” and in despair he cried, “Ah, if I held onto my little box; a good profit I had there….casually I gave it to the Padrone!”
At that moment that he was tossing on the ground, his wife comes and says: “Why don’t you go to Tramontana and see if she was more or less having a good laugh on you?”
‘Look’, he said, “You are right,” and he got up, and suddenly felt different “who know that it doesn’t come out even better than that other time.”
In fact, Sandrone retraced his steps to the customary little hill and shouted there: Tramontanaaaa…..
The north wind answered “Vhuhuhuuuu…
Sandrone continued “Oh, I say to you: a pretty mess you made me these two time you come to battle my farm, and you need to make good again the damage this time….”
“Vhuhuhuhuuu….you did not have to give away the little box.”
“That is a fine judgement,” Sandrone answered, “ but in the meantime here I Vhuhuhuuu, take that other little box that is under that little stone there….
Quickly Sandrone lifted the stone and there was a little box, an exact companion to the other one; he grabbed it, stuck it into his pocket and, quite delighted, left without even a thank you.
He said “Now it’s all right, I have one and the Padrone has one; and even more I have the farm; I have you dear Beppe….(he said, addressing the box.)
When he arrived at the customary saddle like valley, he thought to himself, it brings to mind the last time, and the good dinner, and that waiter so polite he almost seemed like a friend.
“I wonder how this other one will….” he took out the box and turned it over with his fingers, and said “ If I really need to refresh myself after a little bit….”
The box opened, (perceiving his daydreaming as a command) and out jumped a magician crazily dressed with a club in his hand and he commenced pouring blows piffete and paffete (wham!bam!) down on an (unsuspecting) Sandrone screaming like a damned soul, taking them like a donkey, all he lacked was a bray.
Good for him that the idea came to close the box, and with that the crazy thumper did a pirouette and vanished.
“Gentimia,” Sandrone said, “I had a narrow escape, it looks a like that rogue bruised me a little….” and he felt carefully all the areas he was feeling pain, especially his back, and not knowing if he could walk he got on all fours and slowly, slowly, as God would have it, that he seemed more of a beast than a Christian when he arrived home to Menica who was waiting at the door; she said,”Sandrone, oh what has happened to you?”
“Nothing, Nothing.” he said, “So much walking has made me so hungry….Set the table, my dear, because now you feast.”
Monica, without thinking too much about it set the table, because already her mouth was watering.
But Sandrone does not sit down, but goes into a corner of the kitchen and touches the box thinking: “You will feel those beatings that I so much wanted to give you.”
And so the box opened but the character came out as an ape, however, instead of only one out came two crazies with two much longer clubs and as those blows came down she thought it was hail.
And it was worse for Sandrone because Menica also jumped and hit him furiously and screamed “You scoundrel, “ and knocked him down scratching, smacking, kicking; it was a good amount of slaughter.
And he, in his agony, scratched the ground, because the lid of the box had fallen onto the floor and he could not find it.
But finally he found it, closed the box, and the crazies disappeared; but Menica continued to give it to him with her shoe, heel and toe in the soft parts and screamed at him: “Ugly assassin, I’ll make lunch for you: here, eat this beating!….”
So to this Sandrone, now beaten, there was nothing to do but go to bed, not unlike a tomcat slithering away. And the worst part was he couldn’t close his eyes all night, because he was battered everywhere and groaned to himself: “Oh, oh that was a nice pay off I got….”
The next day, it was almost noon, and he was still hiding in bed, for fear of Menica who was still angry, when here you are, the Padrone calls for him to go immediately to the villa to help prepare for a lunch for who knows how many people, even the son of the king, with all his accounts, marquis and knights and noblewomen and noblemen; the table was spread for dinner and as soon as they were all gathered in the dining room pressed together like sardines, except for the son of the king, he and his sweetheart had the best spot in the room in chairs with arms.
And everyone had nothing to say, but looked around a little bit, and noon ringed and still there was nothing to see; there were neither plates nor glasses and then a little overcooked odor…but will anything come out of the kitchen?….in my opinion they were teasing;
you know how they do: wait a little bit and then take it all, see what you see. And there were the poor gentle folks, nose in the air, slobbering from great hunger.
When the last guest of the invited guests arrived, a certain English baron, the Padrone said to Sandrone go into my bedroom and get the box that is in the nightstand drawer so that we can give these folks the satisfaction of their needs.
Sandrone went to the room, opened the nightstand, but when he saw the box again and had it in his hand, it was miraculous that he kept himself from saying: “Listen to me a little, stop the world, I take a beating like a donkey and they eat and drink without spending a cent.”
“This no, and no you pigs, now you will see what I have to teach you!”
Quickly he sticks the good box into his pocket and pulls out the other one, there was no difference until it was opened, and he passes by the Padrone, makes a good show of much reverence in front of all those invited, and says, “Keep this beautiful box my lordship, and excuse me, I must escape a moment, my wife wants me.”
And at that he leaves and comes running into his house, takes out the miraculous box and without even calling Menica lifts the lid and there it is again - his beautiful table all prepared with that good waiter gives them handshakes and a grand feast.
“But how are you dear waiter? How happy I am to see you again.” Sandrone said.
“But come here and put yourself next to me. Let things alone, don’t let me confuse you, there is no need of any pirouette. You eat too, don’t be the fool, Oh take a seat and be quiet.”
So the waiter puts himself beside Sandrone, who couldn’t have been more satisfied with himself, and he thought, “Now when Menica comes, how happy she will be.”
And when she arrived she was really happy and never tired of saying: “Oh! oh! oh God! what a beautiful sight!…bravo Sandrone, I like it so much, not like last night…but let’s let it go, put a lid on it, and not talk anymore.”
And so she gave him a big kiss, and put one on the table as well.
“Now my gentlemen, to your health” toasted Sandrone “And at that other villa a sound thrashing; including the Padrone; pity those who go outside.”
And here, all three are in agreement of the love of setting their jaws to work, especially the waiter who would have suffered a little to clean it all up if it were not for Sandrone occasionally telling him to do it: “So,” Sandrone said to the waiter “Tell me a little bit, tell me the stories of where you go, briefly so we can understand each family’s misfortunes, we know you see well from the way you work, I mean do the waiters talk about the great wealth when they meet afterwards….tell me, tell me.”
Then the waiter, always well mannered, recounted for him the hows and whys of all his cases, and how they turned out. And, Sandrone and Menica filled his plate.
Meanwhile at the Padrone’s villa a blizzard was happening; as soon as the master opened the famous box so many crazies with clubs in hand jumped out that each guest there received his own ‘risolare’ (a continuous beating as a shoemaker hammers the sole of a shoe.)
(che ogni invitato ce n’aveva uno a risolarlo….)
The counts, marquis, princes and knights pulled out their swords, after all, and defended the ladies; the son of the king was the most angry of all and wanted to stab the Padrone.
As for the crazies, who were magicians, nobody could touch them; they all escaped out of the villa into the pasture and were chased all the way to the bottom of the farm.
Sandrone, hearing all the commotion (tutto quel buggerio), went to the window with a chicken leg in his hand and called to Menica and the waiter, and the sight of that beating gave them a big laugh and seemed to them no less than a tournament.
Luckily for all the crazies there was a river nearby and to save themselves they threw themselves in. Then the crazies not knowing who will lead them began to gather themselves up. (a rimbussolare tra loro)
And the guests gave so much that in the end they just returned to the villa and closed the box, as if to give the poor crazies a little rest.
A conti fatti
beati i matti
By all accounts
the crazies are blessed
translated by R.P.
Notes and observations:
Sandrone is the name of a popular puppet in Modena, and the Sandrone mask represents that city in the Commedia dell’arte. Modena is about 100 miles north of Argenta’s Cireglio. The Commedia is a form of theater - stage shows and puppet shows - in which the characters wear masks; the most famous of the puppet shows is perhaps Punch and Judy.
The Commedia originated in the 16th century, and the stories contain stereotypical actors with exaggerated personalities.
The Sandrone character, said to have been invented by puppeteer Luigi Campogiallini (1775-1839), has been around since 1700. He is described on Wikipedia as a crude, clever and cunning trickster; also always hungry and likes to solve problems with a stick.
After learning this, as I was about halfway through the translation of the story, I saw the rest of the story with the image in mind of the Italian puppet shows where the characters are constantly beating on each other with sticks. That relieved some of the politically incorrectness of Sandrone’s thought when he took possession of the second box of seeing his wife getting the beating she had coming to her.
Wikipedia also says Sandrone’s wife, Pulonia, shows up in the shows around 1840, soon followed by a son. Argenta has the wife as ‘Menica’, and no son. Maybe Argenta’s version predates the shows in Modena with Pulonia as the wife.
Italo Calvino includes a similar story in his Italian Folktales, with the title The North Wind’s Gift. The story line is the same with different names. Sandrone is not part of this version.
Here the fall guy is a prior (the number two man?) of the local monastery. He gets the second box and opens it just when he has his bishop and many other priests sitting at his table expecting a feast but getting a beating instead. Calvino’s character ‘Geppone’ ends up with both boxes and never lends them out again.
Calvino groups his stories geographically, this one is from Mugello, which is east of Argenta’s home base in the provence of Pistoia, and about as far north of Florence. Pistoia is well known as a supporter (ghibellini) of the Holy Roman Emperor and not the pope (guelphi) during the 12th and 13th centuries.
I would love to attribute some connection with the priests getting the beating in Calvino’s story with this factor, but since he has meddled with the stories, who knows. I can say that it doesn’t appear (not conclusive yet) that members of the clergy show up in any of Argenta’s stories, as they do in Boccaccio’s Decameron, and many other stories related to Florence which was always a guelph stronghold.
Stories that include another of my family’s (adapted by me) ancestors Fra. Filippo Lippi, the 15th century painter from Prato (Pistoia neighborhood) who Cosimo de Medici locked up so he would finish a commissioned painting; and later, seduces Lucrezia Buti who was sitting for a painting and may have been a nun. The product of that event is Filippino Lippi who became a famous painter in his own right.
Back to the story at hand:
So we have Sandrone dealing with a force of nature, he is a Christian; but maybe there lingers a little touch of the pagan as he goes off to deal personally with the wind as opposed to asking God “why me?"
And he definitely lives in a divided world of haves and have-nots.
In the Calvino version, the prior is stingy with the fruits of the magic box after he gets it; that’s not stated in Argenta’s story, but is sort of implied as he is egged on by Menica to get another box.
It’s interesting that Sandrone shows no mercy to the Padrone and his dinner guests, and curiously the story ends with a funny twist where, without any build-up, the crazies are suddenly humanized in the last two paragraphs. Like I said, you have to read it with a child’s accepting mind, not as a logic demanding adult.
In the two-line epilogue I think Sandrone is included as a 'crazy'.
note on style: In the Italian text quotation marks are not used to show dialogue. A change of speaker is shown with a dash at the beginning of a sentence. I followed the Italian style at the beginning of the story, but abandoned it and brought back the quotation marks, and added a few ‘he said….she said..’ for clarity.
—R.P.
here’s a photo of Sandrone, in the middle, as a marionette...
Posted by ronpaci at January 20, 2017 4:04 PM