 The Italian word, La Veglia (vay-yah), translates to "the watch" or "vigil" and is an interesting tradition practiced amongst the learned Strege, especially those of the Northern Tuscan-Umbria regions, a special people from whom I have learned much concerning the rituals of the hereditary Witch. Before we examine the custom of La Veglia, allow me to digress and state that certain academics have rightfully maintained that fairy tales have always been women's stories, passed from one female generation to the next in the oral tradition of yore. These tales mostly concern ordinary men and women who, by means of magic, do extraordinary deeds. We are told that since women have historically been granted few rights, these stories represent a means of voicing an opinion against oppression and censorship. Such a valid hypothesis leads me to yet another consideration: what group has been more maligned than perhaps even the flesh and blood daughters of the Goddess? What religion has been driven underground time and time again, relentlessly, by church and state? What people believe wholeheartedly in the power of Magic to effect positive change in their lives? Why yes, the Strege, of course! So, allow me to take this interesting observation one step further: the fairy tale, as adapted by Perault, brothers Grimm and countless others, originated in its purest form within the Pagan community, crafted by those able representatives of the divine mysteries...the Witches. And time spent in study amongst the Tuscan Elders has taught me that this statement is true, for the practice of La Veglia, or the night story vigil, is proof positive that just such a venerable connection exists between "the old ways" and "modern literature." Let us then examine a certain legend concerning the Walnut Tree of Benevento, a legend that has its roots in the fireside evenings of Tuscany, when wise women poor in possessions, yet rich in imagination, spun silvery stories for their children and grandchildren, much as did their mothers before them when they held their vigils beside the warming hearth and fire stone of matriarchal pride.  Once upon a time - not too long ago, since all Time is truly one and the same - there lived in the village of Benevento a family of modest means who earned their daily bread by going about the countryside, gathering fruits, nuts and berries, which they later sold in the nearby marketplace of the Goddess Fortunia, patroness of merchants. 
One day, while out roaming through the forest, the youngest son of
these poor foragers came upon a Walnut Tree of exceeding height and lush
foliage and whose limbs were bowed from the weight of abundant nuts.
Scarcely believing his good fortune, the young man rubbed his eyes, then
proceeded to shake a branch which promptly carpeted the ground with a
bountiful harvest.Already calculating the profit the tree would provide, the youth named Enrico hardly noticed that as he gathered the nuts, they began to open; when he espied the figure of a pretty damsel emerging from one shell, he dropped the treasure in his arms and stared, transfixed, at the vision of loveliness. More women appeared from their walnut cocoons, maidens who mysteriously grew to life-size in the twinkling of an eye. As Enrico gazed at the supernatural beauties, the leaves of the walnut tree sang to him a melodious tune and he began to dance; the nut nymphs joined in the celebration and a merry festa ensued! Yet Enrico did not forget why he had come to the forest, and that his family at home needed food. The ladies, who were Strege, knew this, and when their dancing was over, they gave Enrico some of the nuts. And they said, “When you are at home, open two of these, keep a third one for the king’s daughter, Princess Violanta, and take this little basket (pagnerina) full to the king. Remember to tell the princess not to open her walnut until she shall have gone to bed.” When Rico returned home and opened his nut there poured from it such a stream of gold that he found himself richer than the king! So he built himself a castle of extraordinary splendor, all of precious stones. And opening the second nut, there came from it such a magnificent suit of clothes that when he put it on, he was the handsomest man in the world. So he went to the king and was well received. Yet when he asked for the hand of the princess, the monarch replied that he was very sorry, yet he had promised his daughter to another prince. For this other, the princess had no love at all, yet she was enamored à prima vista with Enrico. Princess Violanta accepted the nut, and went to bed, but o wonder! What should come out of it other than the young man who had asked her hand in marriage. Now she could not help herself, and asked Enrico to remain and return, which he zealously did. The natural result was that in the course of events, the princess found herself with child and declared that something must be done. 
Her father declared that Violanta would not marry the prince to whom he had betrothed her, and that there should be a grand assembly of youths and she would chose her husband. So it was done, and there were feasts, balls, and at last a great assembly of young men.Among these appeared her own lover, Enrico of the Walnuts. He was dressed as a poor peasant, and sat at the table among the humblest that were there. The princess went from one suitor to the other. She found some fault in every one, until she came to her own lover and said, "He is the one whom I choose," and threw her handkerchief at him which was the sign that she would marry him. All who were present were enraged that she should have selected such a peasant nor was the king himself well pleased. At last it was arranged that there should be a combat, and that if the young man could prevail, he might marry the princess. Enrico was strong and brave, yet this was a great trial. The Ladies of the Walnut Tree appeared and helped their friend, so that all fell before him. Never a sword or lance touched him in the fray for he was under their charm, and the opposing knights went down before him like sheep before a wolf. Good Rico emerged the victor. He wed the daughter of the king, and after a few months, she gave birth to a bel bambino - a beautiful babe who was called, in gratitude to the ladies, the Nut of Benevento, for everyone knows that the walnut tree belongs to Carmenta the Wise. And so they were happy and contented. This ancient tale from Romagna, Italy teaches that each of us is like the walnut. We all have the ability to look in side ourselves and find magic. Only by doing so can we overcome the trials of life and make our dreams come true. To read about the fascinating history of the Tree of Benevento, seek out Etruscan Roman Remains, (Phoenix Publishing, Blaine, Washington), originally published in 1892 by the author, Charles G. Leland, a man who lived among the Strege of Italy for several years in the late 19th century. He regarded it as his greatest work, "ten times more remarkable" than Gypsy Sorcery and Fortune-telling, his unique collection, published a few years before. In this book, as in his Aradia, Gospel of the Witches, Leland saw himself as performing a type of salvage operation, trying to save what could be saved before the onslaught of modernity: "It will come to pass and that at no very distant day, when - although there will be no lack of people who will understand this book perhaps better than I do - there will not be a soul living who can feel it...(when) every man and woman will be educated - and all the better for them - probably into something far more sensible than sentimentalism or superstition, but the ancient spirit in which the past was lived will be irrecoverably lost."  |