There is another little legend attached to La Certosa which owes its small interest to being told of a man who was one of the Joe Millers of Italy in the days of the Medici. It is a curious fact that humorists do most abound and are most popular in great epochs of culture. Domenico Barlacchi was a _banditore_—herald or public crier—of Florence, commonly known as Il Barlacchia, who lived in the time of Lorenzo de’ Medici, and who, being _molto piacevole e faceto_, or pleasing and facetious, as I am assured by an ancient yellow jest-book of 1636 now before me, became, like Piovano Arlotto and Gonella, one of the famous wits of his time. It is worth noting, though it will be no news to any folk-lorist, that in these flying leaves, or fleeting collections of facetiæ, there are many more indications of familiar old Florentine life than are to be gleaned from the formal histories which are most cited by writers who endeavour to illustrate it. “One morning Barlacchia, with other boon companions, went to La Certosa, three miles distant from Florence, {71} where, having heard mass, they were taken over the convent by one of the friars, who showed them the convent and cells. Of which Barlacchia said ’twas all very fine, but that he would like to see the wine-cellar—_sentendosi egli hauer sete_—as he felt great thirst sadly stealing over him. “To which the friar replied that he would gladly show them that part of the convent, but that unfortunately the Decano who kept the keys was absent. [_Decano_, dean or deacon, may be rendered roughly in English as a dog, or literally of a dog or currish.] To which Barlacchia replied, ‘Truly I am sorry for it, and I wish you were all _de’ cani_ or dogs!’ Times have changed, and whether this tale brought about the reform I cannot say, but it is certain that the good monks at present, without waiting to be asked, generally offer a glass of their famous cordial to visitors. Tastes may differ, but to mine, when it is old, the green Certosa, though far cheaper, is superior to Chartreuse. Another tale of Barlacchia, which has a certain theological affinity with this story, is as follows: “A great illness once befell Barlacchia, so that it was rumoured all over Florence that he was dead, and great was the grieving thereover. But having recovered, by the grace of God, he went from his house to the palace of the Grand Duke, who said to him: “‘Ha! art thou alive, Barlacchia? We all heard that thou wert dead.’ “‘Signore, it is true,’ was his reply. ‘I was indeed in the other world, but they sent me back again, and that for a mere trifle, which you forgot to give me.’ “‘And what was that?’ asked the Duke.