How the Jester Gonella Made a Bet

Duke Lorenzo de' Medici, known as the Magnificent, never dined alone. "Only a dog," he would say, "finds a bone, hides in a corner, and growls at everyone. But a man should find more joy in entertaining friends than in eating alone. Besides, engaging conversation is the best seasoning for any dish."

And so, every evening, scholars, poets, musicians, and noble citizens gathered for dinner at Lorenzo's palace. Some came to listen to wise speeches, while others were eager to speak themselves. Even those who simply enjoyed good food would invite themselves to his table.

One such evening, the conversation turned to the fact that Florence was not only rich in beautiful buildings, fountains, and statues but also in skilled craftsmen.

"There are more cloth-makers in our glorious city than anything else," said an elderly judge, who always dressed so extravagantly that everyone laughed at him.

"Nonsense," retorted a young nobleman, known for his quick temper and readiness to draw his sword. "Florence has more weaponsmiths than anything else."

"Oh, no," interjected a beautiful lady adorned with jewels. "There are more goldsmiths. To get this ring, I visited one hundred and twenty-eight jewelers."

"And what do you say, Gonella?" Duke Lorenzo turned to his jester, who sat beside him on a small stool.

"In Florence, there are more doctors than anything else," Gonella replied without hesitation.

The Duke was greatly surprised.

"What are you saying?" he said. "The city records of Florence list only three physicians: my court doctor, Antonio Ambrogio, and two others for everyone else."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk! How little rulers know about their subjects! If Messer Ambrogio is busy day and night caring for your health, which isn't all that bad to begin with, you assume the rest of the Florentines are perfectly healthy. Meanwhile, all they do is fall ill and seek treatment. And who treats them? I tell you, Lorenzo, one in every ten Florentines is a healer!"

The Duke, who usually laughed when Gonella teased his guests rather than himself, frowned.

"Your words are cheap. I would gladly pay a hundred florins if you could back them up with proof."

"Deal!" Gonella replied. "I'll prove to you that every word of mine is worth far more than a florin. By tomorrow evening, I will present you with a list of healers."

The Duke unbuckled his purse, counted out a hundred gold coins, and placed them in a silver vase.

Gonella stood up on his stool and bowed to those seated at the table.

"Would any of you, esteemed guests, like to join the wager? You so often fill your bellies at the Duke's table that it wouldn't hurt you to pay for the feast, if not to the host himself, then at least to his jester."

The guests had no choice but to open their purses. The silver vase was soon filled to the brim with coins.

The next morning, Gonella wrapped his cheek in a thick woolen scarf and left the palace. He hadn't gone a hundred steps when he encountered a wealthy silk merchant.

"What's wrong, Gonella?" asked the merchant.

"Oh, my teeth!" moaned Gonella. "Pepper, molten tin, burning fire—that's what's in my mouth."

"I'll give you a sure remedy," said the merchant. "On New Year's Eve, you must catch a black cat at the crossroads of four streets and pluck three hairs from its tail. Burn those hairs and inhale the ashes. Your toothache will vanish!"

"Thank you, Messer Luciano! It's a shame we celebrated the New Year two weeks ago. But if my teeth still hurt by the next New Year, I'll follow your advice. For now, let me write it down so I don't forget."

The second person Gonella met was the abbot of a Florentine monastery.

"Ah, holy father," Gonella began as soon as he saw him, "it's a sin to utter foul words, but these cursed teeth kept me awake all night."

"It's good you met me," said the abbot. "I know a sure remedy. Go home and heat some red wine. Take a mouthful and silently recite a prayer. When you finish the prayer, swallow the wine. Then take another mouthful and pray again..."

"And how many prayers must I... I mean, how much wine must I swallow?" asked Gonella.

"The more, the better," replied the abbot.

"I like your advice," said Gonella. "I'm very fond of red wine. I'll go and pray."

Gonella added the abbot's name and advice to his list and continued on his way.

Advice poured in from all sides. Scholars, poets, musicians, noble citizens, artisans, and peasants—all stopped when they saw Gonella, moaning with his scarf-wrapped face. No matter how busy these people were, they spared no time to explain to the jester how to cure a toothache.

Gonella listened to everyone and wrote everything down. Soon, his teeth almost started to hurt for real.

By evening, Gonella, staggering with fatigue, returned to the palace. On the palace stairs, he encountered Duke Lorenzo himself, who was about to go for a ride before dinner.

"My poor Gonella!" exclaimed the Duke. "Do your teeth hurt?"

"Terribly, Your Grace," replied the jester. "I was even going to ask your permission to consult your court physician, Messer Antonio Ambrogio."

"Why do you need Ambrogio? I know more about such matters than he does, and I'll cure you myself. Take some sage leaves, brew them strong, and apply hot compresses. It would also help to infuse chamomile and rinse your mouth with it. Warm sand in a linen bag is also good. And it's useful to..."

The Duke gave so many pieces of advice that Gonella's legs began to buckle as he listened.

That evening, the Duke's guests gathered once more at the table. The Duke sat at the head, and Gonella perched on his stool beside him. He had already removed the scarf.

"Well, Gonella," said the Duke, "I don't see the promised list of physicians. Shall we consider the wager lost and take back our stakes?"

The Duke reached for the silver vase and saw that it was empty.

"Don't worry, Your Grace," Gonella said calmly. "I exchanged the gold florins for proof of my claim. Here's your list."

With these words, he handed the Duke a long scroll. Duke Lorenzo unrolled it and began to read aloud:

"Messer Luciano, Florentine merchant, most enlightened physician. Advises... The Abbot of the Florentine Monastery, Fra Benedetto..."

The walls of the grand hall seemed ready to collapse from the laughter of the Duke and his guests. Only those whose names were being read aloud did not laugh.

The list contained three hundred names and a thousand pieces of advice from self-proclaimed healers.

The guests were already exhausted from laughter when Lorenzo rolled up the scroll and said:

"That's all."

"That's all?" exclaimed Gonella. "You forgot someone!"

He grabbed the scroll and read:

"Though last on the list, he is first among the foremost physicians of our glorious city—His Grace Duke Lorenzo de' Medici, known as the Magnificent. No wonder he bears the name Medici (The name Medici indeed derives from the word 'medici,' meaning 'doctors.' The Medici coat of arms features six circles resembling pills. Gonella the jester is a historical figure, the hero of many legends and tales), meaning his ancestors were healers. Lorenzo himself claims to heal better than the court physician, Antonio Ambrogio. And how could it be otherwise, when his coat of arms proudly displays six pills? For toothache, the Duke advises..."

At this, even the crystal chandeliers seemed to chime with laughter. The Duke himself couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, Gonella, you've won!" he exclaimed.

"How could it be otherwise!" replied the jester. "I wouldn't be a jester if I couldn't see through people. I know one thing for sure: the only thing people love to give for free is advice."

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How the Jester Gonella Made a Bet

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