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THE DECAMERON
THE DECAMERON
OR
TEN DAYS' ENTERTAINMENT OF BOCCACCIO
FINE-FAPER EDITION
LONDON
CHAT TO & W INDUS
1922
Printed in England at THE BALLANTYNE PRESS SPOTTISWOODE, BALLANTYNE & CO. LTD, Colchester, London & Eton
CONTENTS
Author's Introduction to Ladies ..„.,,, xix THE FIRST DAY
FAGS
Novel I. — Chappelet imposes upon the priest by a sham confession, and dies ; and, although a very wicked fellow, was afterwards reputed a saint ; and called St. Chappelet S
Novel II. — Abraham, the Jew, at the instigation of Jeannot de Chivigni, goes to the court of Rome, and seeing the wickedness of the clergy there, returns to Paris, and becomes a Christian . is
Novel III.— Melchizedeck, a Jew, by a story of the three rings, escapes a most dangerous snare, which Saladin had prepared for him 16
Novel IV. — A monk having committed an offence, for which he ought to have been severely punished, saves himself by wittily proving his abbot guilty of the very same fault . . . .18
Novel V.— The Marchioness of Monferrat, by an entertainment of hens, and some witty speeches, cures the King of France of his dishonourable love ......... 21
Novel VI. — A plain honest man, by a jest accidentally let fall, very
wittily reproves the hypocrisy of the clergy .... 23
Novel VII. — Bergamino, by telling a tale of a certain witty person named Primasso, very handsomely reproves the avarice which had lately appeared in M. Cane della Scala .. . . . . 25
Novel VIII. — Gulielmo Borsiere, by a few smart words, checks the
miserable covetousness of M. Ermino de' Grimaldi ... 30
Novel IX. — The King of Cyprus was so much affected by the words of a gentlewoman of Gascogne, that from being a vicious prince he became very virtuous ....... 3s
Novel X. — Master Albert of Bologna puts a lady to the blush, who thought to have done as much to him, because she perceived him to be amorously inclined towards her . . $j v
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CONTENTS
THE SECOND DAY
PAG I
Novel I.—- Martellino, feigning himself to be a cripple, pretends to be cured by being laid upon the body of Saint Arrigo ; but his roguery being discovered, he gets soundly beaten, and is after- wards apprehended, and in danger of being hanged, but at last escapes , 39
Novel II. — Rinaldo d'Asti having been robbed, comes to Castel Gulielmo, where he is entertained by a widow lady, makes good his loss, and returns safe home 43
Novel III. — Three young gentlemen lavish away their fortunes, and a nephew of theirs returning home in as desperate a condition, falls in company with an Abbot, whom he afterwards found to be the King of England's daughter, who marries him, and makes good his uncles' losses, resettling them in their former prosperity .48
Novel IV. — Landolpho Ruffolo, falling into poverty, became a pirate, and was taken by the Genoese, and suffered shipwreck, but saved himself upon a cask of jewels, and was taken out of the sea by a woman at Corfu, and afterwards returned home
very rich 55
Novel V. — Andreuccio, of Perugia, coming to Naples to buy horses, met with three remarkable accidents in one night; from all which he escapes, and returns with a ruby of value . . 55
Novel VI. — Madam Beritola was found on an island with two goats, having lost her two sons, and went from thence to Luni- giana, where one of her sons became servant to the lord thereof ; and being found with his daughter, was by him sent to prison ; afterwards, when the country of Sicily rebelled against King Charles, that same son was known again by his mother, and was married to his master's daughter ; and his brother being found likewise, they both returned to great estate and credit . 71
Novel VII. — The Sultan of Babylon sends one of his daughters to be married to the King of Algarve, who, by divers accidents in the space of four years fell into the hands of nine different men in different places. At length, being restored to her father, she went to the King of Algarve as a maid, and, as at first she was intended, to be his wife 83
CONTENTS
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Novel VIII. — The Count d'Angiers, being falsely accused, was banished from France, and left his two children in different parts of England. Returning afterwards privately out of Ire- land, he found them settled in great repute ; from thence he goes as a common servant into the King of France's army, and his innocence being made public at last, he is restored to his former dignity , » io*
Novel IX. — Bernard of Genoa is imposed upon by one Ambrose, loses his money, and orders his wife, who is quite innocent, to be put to death. She makes her escape, and goes in man's dress into the service of the Sultan ; there she meets with the deceiver ; and, sending for her husband to Alexandria, has him punished ; she then resumes her former habit, and returns with her husband rich to Genoa 114
Novel X,— Paganino da Monaca carries away the wife of Signior Ricciardo di Chinzica, who, understanding where she was, went thither, and growing acquainted with Paganino, he demanded her back, which the other consents to, provided she is willing : she refuses to return ; and upon Ricciardo's death became the wife of Paganino •••••••». 134
THE THIRD DAY
Novel I. — Masetto da Lamporecchio, pretending to be d-amb, is taken in to be gardener to a monastery of nuns ; what happens in consequence
Novel II.— An equerry belonging to King Agilulf lies with his queen : of which the king making a secret discovery, set a mark upon him by shearing the hair off his head : upon which he who was so shorn, cut that of his fellow-servants in like manner, and so escaped further punishment
Novel III.— A lady, under pretence of confessing, and a pure con- science, being in love with a young gentleman, makes a sanctified friar bring them together, without his knowing anything of her intention ..........
Novel IV.— A young scholar, named Felix, teaches one Puccio how he may be saved, by performing a penance which he shows him :
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this he puts into execution ; and, in the meantime, Felix amuses himself with his wife . ........
Novel V. — Ricciardo, surnamed the Beau, makes a present of a fine horse to Francisco Vergellesi, upon condition that he should have the liberty of speaking to his wife : and she making him no reply, he answers for her, which accordingly has its effect , . .
Novel VI.— Ricciardo Minutolo is in love with the wife of Philio- pello Fighinolfi ; and knowing her to be jealous of her husband, makes her believe that he was to meet his wife that night at a bagnio. Accordingly she goes thither ; and, imagining she had been with her husband all the time, finds herself at last with Ricciardo
Novel VII. — Tedaldo, having a misunderstanding with his mistress, leaves Florence : he returns thither afterwards in the habit of a pilgrim, and makes himself known to her ; when he convinces her of her mistake, and saves her husband from being put to death for his murder, for which he had been condemned. He then reconciles him to his brethren, and lives upon good terms with her for the future ........
Novel VIII. — Ferondo, by taking a certain drug, is buried for dead, and by the abbot, who has an intrigue with his wife, is taken out of the grave and put into a dungeon, when he is made to believe that he is in purgatory ; being raised up again , he rears a child as his own , which the abbot had got by his wife ....
Novel IX. — Giletta de Narbonne cures the King of France of a complaint, and demands the Count de Roussilon in marriage, as her reward ; he marries her against his will, and goes in a pet to Florence, where he fell in love with a young lady, and lay with his own wife, when he thought himself in bed with his mistress. She had two sons by him, and, by that means, matters were accommodated at last between them ......
Novel X. — Alibech, a young girl desirous of becoming a Christian, travels to a desert to consult some holy men as to the best means of serving and pleasing God. Rusticus, a devout hermit, informs her that the Devil had escaped from hell, that nothing could be more acceptable to God than his being sent back again, and teaches her how to accomplish it ; which she does with his pious assistance, to her great satisfaction •••>•»
CONTENTS
ix
THE FOURTH DAY
FAGB
Novel I.— Tancred, Prince of Salerno, puts his daughter's lover to death, and sends bis heart to her in a golden cup ; she pours water upon it, which she had poisoned, and so dies . • . 197
Novel II. — Friar Albert makes a woman believe that an angel is in love with her, and in that shape deceives her. Afterwards, for fear of her relations, he throws himself out of the window, and takes shelter in a poor man's house ; who exposes him the next day in the public market-place in the form of a wild man ; when he is discovered by two friars, and put into prison • • . 764
Novel III. — Three young men fall in love with three sisters, and fly with them into Crete. The eldest destroys her lover out of jealousy; and the second, by consenting to the Duke of Crete's request, is the means of saving her sister's life : afterwards her lover kills her, and goes away with the eldest sister. The third couple is charged with her death, which they confess, and after- wards fee their keepers, and, making their escape, die at Rhodes at last in great necessity .♦.„.... 210
Novel IV. — Gerbino, contrary to a treaty made by King William, his grandfather, fought with a ship belonging to the King of Tunis, with a design to take away his daughter ; who being slain by the ship's crew, he slew them likewise, and was afterwards beheaded for it . . . . . > . . , , 216
Novel V. — Isabella's brothers put her lover to death ; he appears to her in a dream, and shows her where he is buried. She privately brings away his head ; and, putting it into a pot of basil and other sweet herbs, laments over it a considerable time every day. At length they take it away from her, and she soon after dies for grief 220
Novel VI. — A young lady, named Andrevuola, was in love with Gabriotto ; they relate to each other their dreams, when he falls down dead in her arms ; as she and her maid are carrying him out, they are apprehended by the officers of justice, and she relates how the affair happened. Afterwards the magistrate would force her, but she resists ; at length her father hears of it, and as her innocence is clear, has her set at liberty. From that period she grows weary of the world, and becomes a nun .
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CONTENTS
I AGS
Novel VII. — Pasquino is in love with Simona ; and, being in a garden together, he happens to rub his teeth with a leaf of sage, and immediately dies. She is brought before the judge, when, being desirous of showing him the cause of Pasquino's death, she rubs her teeth with the same herb, and meets with a similar fate 229
Novel VIII. — Girolamo is in love with Salvestra, and is obliged by his mother to go to Paris. On his return he finds her married : and getting privately into her house, he breathes his last by her side. Being carried from thence to a church to be buried, she dies likewise upon his corpse . . . . . . . 232
Novel IX.— Gulielmo Rossiglione gives his wife to eat the heart of Gulielmo Guardasiagno, her gallant, whom he had slain ; as soon as she knew this, she threw herself out of a window, and, dying, was buried along with him 236
Novel X. — A doctor's wife puts her gallant into a chest, imagining him to be dead ; which chest is stolen by two usurers, and carried home. He comes to himself, and is taken for a thief ; whilst the lady's maid informs the magistrates that she had put him into a chest, which the usurers had carried away ; upon which he escapes, and they are fined a sum of money .... 239
THE FIFTH DAY
Novel I.— Cymon becomes wise by being in love, and by force of arms wins Ephigenia his mistress upon the seas ; and is impri- soned at Rhodes Being delivered from thence by Lysimachus, with him he recovers Ephigenia, and flies with her to Crete, where he is married to her, and is afterwards recalled home . 250
Novel II. — Constantia is in love with Martuccio Gomito ; and hearing that he was dead, out of despair, goes alone into a boat, which is driven by the wind to Susa : finding him alive at Tunis, she makes herself known ; whilst he, being a great favourite there of the king's, marries her, and returns home with her to Lipari, very rich 260
Novel III. — Pietro Boccamazza running away with his mistress, is set upon by thieves, whilst the lady makes her escape into a forest, from whence she is conducted to a castle. He is taken, but escapes by some accident, and arrives at the same castle, where they are married, and return from thence to Rome . , 265
CONTENTS
PAGB
Novel IV. — Ricciardo Manardi is found by Lizio along with his daughter, whom he marries, and they become reconciled to-
Novel V. — Guidotto da Cremona dying, left a daughter to the care of Giacomino da Pavia. Giannole di Severino and Minghino di Mingole are both in love with her, and fight on her account, when she is known to be Giannole's sister, and is married to
Novel, VI. — Gianni di Procida is discovered with a young lady, formerly his mistress, but then given to King Frederick, for which he is condemned to be burnt with her at a stake. When, being known by Ruggieri dell' Oria, he escapes, and marries her 278
Novel VII. — Theodoro is in love with Violante, his master's daughter ; she proves with child, for which he is condemned to be hanged ; when being led out to execution, he is known by his father, set at liberty,, and afterwards marries her . . 283
Novel VIII. — Anastasio being in love with a young lady, spent a good part of his fortune without being able to gain her affections. At the request of his relations he retires to Chiassi, where he sees a lady pursued and slain by a gentleman, and then given to the dogs to be devoured. He invites his friends, along with his mistress, to come and dine with him, when they see the same thing, and she, fearing the like punishment, takes him for her husband 288
Novel IX. — Federigo being in love, without meeting with any return, spends all his substance, having nothing left but one poor hawk, which he gives to his lady for her dinner when she comes to his house ; she, knowing this, changes her resolution, and marries him, by which means he becomes very rich . . 293
Novel X. — Pietro di Vinciolo goes to sup at a friend's house; his wife in the meantime has her gallant : Pietro returns, when she hides him under a chicken coop. Pietro relates, that a young fellow was found in Hercolano's house where he supped, who had been concealed by his wife. Pietro's wife blames very much the wife of Hercolano ; whilst an ass happening to tread on the young man's fingers, who lay hidden, he cries out. Pietro runs to see what is the matter, and finds out the trick. At length they make it up .... . . 398
gether
27,;
Minghino
271
CONTENTS
THE SIXTH DAY
PAGB
Novel I. — A certain knight offers a lady to carry her behind him, and to tell her a pleasant story by the way ; but doing it with an ill grace, she chose rather to walk on foot 30 «,
NOVEL II. — Cisti the baker, by a smart reply, makes Signor Geri
Spina sensible of an unreasonable request 307
Novel III. — Madam Nonna de' Pulci silences the Bishop of
Florence, by a smart reply to an unseemly piece of raillery . 310
Novel IV.--Chichibio, cook to Currado Gianfiliazzi, by a sudden reply, which he made to his master, turns his wrath into laughter, and so escapes the punishment with which he had threatened him 311
NOVEL V. — Forese da Rabatta and Giotto the painter, coming from
Mugello, laugh at the meanness of each other's appearance . 314
Novel VI.— Michael Scalza proves to certain young gentlemen, that the family of the Baronci is the most honourable of any in the world, and wins a supper by it . 315
Novel VII.— Madam Philippa being surprised with her gallant by her husband, is accused and tried for it ; but saves herself by her quick reply, and has the laws moderated for the future . 317
Novel VIII. — Fresco advises his niece that if she could not endure to look at any disagreeable people, she should never behold herself 319
Novel IX. — Guido Cavalcanti genteelly reprimands the folly of
some Florentine gentlemen, who came unawares upon him . 320
Novel X. — Friar Onion promises some country people to show them a feather from the wing of the angel Gabriel ; instead of which he finds only some coals, which he tells them are the same that roasted St. Laurence » 332
THE SEVENTH DAY
Novel I. — Gianni Lotteringhi hears a knocking at his door, and wakes his wife, who makes him believe it is a spirit, and they both go to conjure it away with a certain prayer, after which the noise ceases , ... 335
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PAG»
Novel II. — Peronella puts her gallant into a tub on her husband's coming home ; which tub the husband had sold ; she conse- quently tells him that she had also sold it to a person who was then in it to see if it were sound. Upon this the man jumps cut, makes the husband clean it for him, and carries it home . . 338
Novel III. — Friar Rinaldo has an affair with a lady in the neigh- bourhood, when he makes the husband believe that he is upon a charm to cure their child of the worms 341
Novel IV. — Tofano shuts his wife one night out of doors ; who, not being able to persuade him to let her come in, pretends to throw herself into a well, by throwing a stone in : he runs thither to see, during which she enters, and locking him out, abuses him well 344
Novel V.— A jealous man confesses his wife under a priest's habit, who tells him that she is visited every night by a friar ; and, whilst he is watching the door, she lets her lover in at the house- top ............ 348
Novel VI. —Isabella, being in company with her gallant, called Leonetto, and being visited at the sams time by esa Lambertue- cio, her husband returns, when she sends Lambenuccio away with a drawn sword in his hand, whilst the husband guards Leonetto safe to his own house, ....... 353
Novel VII. — Lodovico being in love with Beatrice, she sends her husband into the garden, disguised like herself, so that her lover may be with her in the meantime ; and he afterwards goes into the garden, and beats him ........ 356
Novel VIII. — A woman who had a very jealous husband, tied a thread to her great toe, by which she informed her lover whether he should come or not. The husband found it out, and whilst he was pursuing the lover, she put her maid in her place. He takes her to be his wife, beats her, cuts off her hair, and then fetches his wife's relations, who find nothing of what he had told them, and so load him with reproaches 36s
Novel IX. — Lydia, the wife of Nicostratus, being in love with Pyrrhus, did three things which he had enjoined her, to con- vince him of her affection. She afterwards used some famili- arities with him before her husband's face, making him believe that what he had seen was not real ...... 367
CONTENTS
Novel X. — Two inhabitants of Siena love the same woman, one of whom was godfather to her son. This man dies, and returns, according to his promise, to his friend, and gives him an account of what is done in the other world ...... 374
THE EIGHTH DAY
Novel I. — Gulfardo borrows a sum of money of Guasparruolo, in order to give it his wife for granting him a favour : he afterwards tells Guasparruolo, whilst she was present, that he had paid it to her, which she acknowledges to be true ..... 379
Novel II. — The parson of Varlungo receives favours from a woman of his parish, and leaves his cloak in pawn for them. He after- wards borrows a mortar of her, which he returns, and demands his cloak, which he says he left only as a token. She mutinies,
but is forced by her husband to send it . . . . .381
Novel III. — Calandrino, Bruno, and Buffalmacco go to Mugnone to look for the Heliotrope ; and Calandrino returns laden with stones, supposing that he had found it. Upon this his wife scolds him, and he beats her for it ; and then tells his companions what they knew better than himself 385
Novel IV. — The provost of the church of Fiesole is in love with a lady who has no liking to him ; and he, thinking that he is with her, is all the time with her maid, when her brothers bring the bishop thither to witness it ....... 391
Novel V.-— Three young sparks play a trick with a judge, whilst he
is sitting upon the bench hearing causes ♦ 395
Novel VI.— Bruno and Buffalmacco steal a pig from Calandrino, and make a charm to find out the thief with pills made of ginger and some sack ; giving him, at the same time, pills made of aloes : whence it appeared that he had it himself, and they make him pay handsomely, for fear they should tell his wife . . . 397
NoV £L VII. — A certain scholar is in love with a widow lady named Helena ; who, being enamoured of another person, makes the former wait a whole night for her during the midst of winter in the snow. In return, he afterwards contrives that she shall stand naked on the top of a tower in the middle of July, exposed to the sun and all manner of insects ...... 40a
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Novel VIII. — Two neighbours are very intimate together ; when one making very free with the other's wife, the other finds it out, and returns the compliment, whilst the friend is locked up in a chest
all the time 419
Novel IX. — Master Simon, the doctor, is imposed upon by Bruno and BufFalmacco, and made to believe that he is to be one of the company of rovers, and afterwards they leave him in a ditch . 42a
Novel X. — A certain Sicilian damsel cheats a merchant of all the money he had taken for his goods at Palermo. Afterwards he pretends to return with a greater stock of goods than before ; when he contrives to borrow a large sum of money of her, leaving sham pledges for her security ..»•••. 434
THE NINTH DAY
Novel I. — Madam Frances ca having two lovers, and liking neither of them, rids herself of both by making one go and lie down in a person's grave, and sending the other to fetch him out . . 446
Novel II. — An abbess, going in haste, and in the dark, to surprise one of her nuns, instead of her veil, puts on the priest's breeches. The lady accused makes a just remark upon this, and so escapes 450
Novel ill.— Master Simon, the doctor, with Bruno, and the rest make Calandrino believe that he is with child ; who gives them fowls and money, to compose a medicine for him ; and he recovers
without being delivered . . , . . . , 452
Novel IV. — Fortarrigo played away all that he had at Buoncon- vento, as also the money of Angiolieri, who was his master ; then running away in his shirt, and pretending that the other had robbed him, he caused him to be seized by the country people, when he put on his clothes, and rode away upon his horse, leav- ing him there in his shirt ........ 455
Novel V. — Calandrino is in love with a certain damsel, when Bruno prepares a charm for her, by virtue of which she follows him, and they are found together by his wife . ..... 458
f^OVEL VI. — Two young gentlemen lie at an inn, one of whom goes to bed to the landlord's daughter ; whilst the wife, by mistake, lies with the other. Afterwards, he that had lain with the daughter gets to bed to the father, and tells him all that had
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PAGB
passed, thinking it had been his friend : a great uproar is made about it ; upon which the wife goes to bed to the daughter, and very cunningly sets all to rights again 464
Novel VII.— Talano di Molese dreamed that a wolf tore his wife's face and throat ; and he bids her take care of herself : but she not regarding him, it happens as he dreamed 468
Novel VIII.— Biondello imposes upon one Ciacco with regard to a dinner : who revenges himself afterwards, and causes the other to be soundly beaten ^
Novel IX.— Two young men go to King Solomon for his advice ; the one to know how he is to behave to be beloved, the other how to manage an untoward wife. To the first he replies, Love ; to the second, Go to Goosebridge 472
Novel X.— Don John, at the request of his companion Peter, pro- ceeds by enchantment to turn his wife into a mare ; but when he is about to attach the tail, Peter, in crying out that he will not have the tail, breaks the enchantment ...... 476
THE TENTH DAY
Novel I.— A certain knight in the service of the King of Spain thinks himself not sufficiently rewarded , when the king gives a remarkable proof that it was not his fault so much as the knight's ill fortune ; and afterwards nobly requites him .... 481
Novel II.— Ghino di Tacco takes the Abbot of Cligni prisoner, and cures him of a pain in his stomach, and then sets him at liberty ; when he returns to the court of Rome, and reconciling him with Pope Boniface, he is made prior of an hospital .... 484
Novel IlT. — Mithridanes envied the generosity of Nathan, and went ^ to kill him ; when, conversing together, without knowing him, and being informed in what manner he might do it, he went to meet him in a wood as he had directed. There he calls him to mind, is ashamed, and becomes his friend 488
Novel IV.— Signor Gentil de' Carisendi takes a lady out of her grave, whom he had loved, and who was buried for dead. She recovers, and is brought to bed of a son, which he presents along with the lady to her husband ....... 493
Novel V.— Dianora requires Ansaldo to present her with a garden in Tanuary as beautiful as in May. He engages a necromancer to
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do it. Her husband, upon this, gives her leave to keep her word with Ansaldo; who, hearing of the husband's generosity, quits her of her promise ; and the necromancer likewise takes nothing for his trouble .......... 499
Novel VI. — Old King Charles, surnamed the Victorious, being in love with a young lady, and ashamed afterwards of his folly, marries both her and her sister much to their advantage , . 502
Novel VII. — King Pietro, knowing that a lady was love-sick for him, makes her a visit, and marries her to a worthy gentleman ; then kissing her forehead, calls himself ever afterwards her knight 507
Novel VIII.— Sophronia, believing herself to be the wife of Gisip- pus, is really married to Titus Quintus Fulvius, who carries her to Rome ; where Gisippus arrives some time after in great dis- tress, and, thinking himself despised by Titus, confesses himself guilty of a murder, in order to put an end to his life. Titus recollects him, and to save him, accuses himself; which, when the murderer sees, he delivers himself up as the guilty person. On which account they are all set at liberty by Octavius, and Titus marries Gisippus to his sister, and gives him half his estate 513
Novel IX. — Saladin, disguising himself like a merchant, is gener- ously entertained by Signor Torello ; who, going upon an expedi- tion to the Holy Land, allowed his wife a certain time to marry again. In the meantime he is taken prisoner, and being em- ployed to look after the hawks, is known to the Soldan, who shows him great respect. Afterwards Torello falls sick, and is conveyed, by magic art, in one night, to Pavia, at the very time that his wife was to have been married : when he makes himself known to her, and returns with her home 528
Novel X. — The Marquis of Saluzzo having been prevailed upon by his subjects to marry, in order to please himself in the affair, made choice of a countryman's daughter, by whom he had two children, which he pretended to put to death. Afterwards, seem- ing as though he was weary of her, and had taken another, he had his own daughter brought home, as if he had espoused her, whilst his wife was sent away in a most distressed condition. At length, being convinced of her patience, he brought her home again, presented her children to her, who were now of consider- able years, and ever afterwards loved and honoured her as his iadF . 543
AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION
TO THE LADIES
Whenever I reflect how disposed you are by nature to compassion, I cannot help being apprehensive, lest what I now offer to your acceptance should seem to have but a melancholy beginning. For it calls to mind the remem- brance of that most fatal plague, so terrible yet in the memories of us all, an account of which is in the front of the book. But be not frightened too soon, as if you expected to meet with nothing else*. This beginning, disagreeable as it is, is as a rugged and steep mountain placed before a delightful valley, which appears more beautiful and pleasant, as the way to it was more difficult : for as joy usually ends with sorrow, so again the end of sorrow is joy. To this short fatigue (I call it short, because contained in few words) immediately succeeds the mirth and pleasure I had before promised you ; and which, but for that promise, you would scarcely expect to find. And in truth could I have brought you by any other way than this, I would gladly have done it : but as the occasion of the occurrences, of which I am going to treat, could not well be made out without such a relation, I am forced to use this Introduction.
In the year then of our Lord 1348, there happened at Florence, the finest city in all Italy, a most terrible plague ; which, whether owing to the influence of the planets, or that it was sent from God as a just punishment for our sins, had broken out some years before in the Levant ; and after passing from place to place, and making incredible havoc all the way, had now reached the west ; where, spite of all the means that art and human foresight could suggest,
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INTRODUCTION
as keeping the city clear from filth, and excluding all sus- pected persons ; notwithstanding frequent consultations what else was to be done ; nor omitting prayers to God in frequent processions : in the spring of the foregoing year, it began to show itself in a sad and wonderful manner; and, different from what it had been in the east, where bleeding from the nose is the fatal prognostic, here there appeared certain tumours in the groin, or under the armpits, some as big as a small apple, others as an egg; and afterwards purple spots in most parts of the body : in some cases large and but few in number, in others less and more numerous, both sorts the usual messengers of death. To the cure of this malady, neither medical knowledge nor the power of drugs was of any effect ; whether because the disease was in its own nature mortal, or that the physicians (the num- ber of whom, taking quacks and women pretenders into account, was grown very great) could form no just idea of the cause, nor consequently ground a true method of cure ; whichever was the reason, few or none escaped ; but they generally died the third day from the first appearance of the symptoms, without a fever or other bad circumstance attending. And the disease, by being communicated from the sick to the well, seemed daily to get ahead, and to rage the more, as fire will do by laying on fresh combustibles. Nor was it given by conversing with only, or coming near the sick, but even by touching their clothes, or anything that they had before touched. It is wonderful what I am going to mention ; which, had I not seen it with my own eyes, and were there not many witnesses to attest it besides myself, I should never venture to relate, however credibly I might have been informed about it : such, I say, was the quality of the pestilential matter, as to pass not only from man to man, but, what is more strange and has been often known, that anything belonging to the infected, if touched by any other creature, would certainly infect, and even kill that creature in a short space of time : and one instance of this kind I took particular notice of, namely, that the rags of a poor man just dead, being thrown into the street, and two hogs coming by at the same time and rooting amongst them, and shaking them about in their mouths, in
INTRODUCTION
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less than an hour turned round and died on the spot. These accidents, and others of the like sort, occasioned various fears and devices amongst those people that sur- vived, all tending to the same uncharitable and cruel end ; which was to avoid the sick, and everything that had been near them; expecting by that means to save them- selves. And some holding it best to live temperately, and to avoid excesses of all kinds, made parties, and shut themselves up from the rest of the world ; eating and drink- ing moderately of the best, and diverting themselves with music, and such other entertainments as they might have within doors ; never listening to anything from without, to make them uneasy. Others maintained free living to be a better preservative, and would baulk no passion or appetite they wished to gratify, drinking and revelling incessantly from tavern to tavern, or in private houses; which were frequently found deserted by the owners, and therefore common to every one ; yet avoiding, with all this irregu- larity, to come near the infected. And such at that time was the public distress, that the laws, human and divine, were not regarded : for the officers to put them in force, being either dead, sick, or in want of persons to assist them ; every one did just as he pleased. A third sort of people chose a method between these two ; not confining them- selves to rules of diet like the former, and yet avoiding the intemperance of the latter ; but eating and drinking what their appetites required, they walked everywhere with odours and nosegays to smell to ; as holding it best to corroborate the brain : for they supposed the whole atmosphere to be tainted with the stink of dead bodies, arising partly from the distemper itself, and partly from the fermenting of the medicines within them. Others of a more cruel disposi- tion, as perhaps the more safe to themselves, declared that the only remedy was to avoid it : persuaded, therefore, of this, and taking care for themselves only, men and women in great numbers left the city, their houses, relations, and effects, and fled into the country : as if the wrath of God had been restrained to visit those only within the walls of the city ; or else concluding that none ought to stay in a place thus doomed to destruction. Divided as they were,
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neither did all die nor all escape ; but falling sick indiffer- ently, as well those of one as of another opinion ; they who first set the example by forsaking others, now languished themselves without mercy. I pass over the little regard that citizens and relations showed to each other ; for their terror was such that a brother even fled from his brother, a wife from her husband, and, what is more uncommon, a parent from its own child On which account numbers that fell sick could have no help but what the charity of friends, who were very few, or the avarice of servants supplied ; and even these were scarce, and at extravagant wages, and so little used to the business, that they were fit only to reach what was called for, and observe when they died ; and this desire of getting money often cost them their lives. From this desertion of friends, and scarcity of ser- vants, an unheard-of custom prevailed ; no lady, however young or handsome, would disdain being attended by a man-servant, whether young or old it mattered not ; and to expose herself naked to him, the necessity of the distemper requiring it, as though it was to a woman ; which might make those who recovered less modest for the time to come. And many lost their lives who might have escaped had they been looked after at all. So that between the scarcity of servants and violence of the distemper, such numbers were continually dying, as made it terrible to hear as well as to behold. Whence from mere necessity, many customs were introduced, different from what had been before known in the city. It had been usual, as it now is, for the women who were friends and neighbours to the deceased, to meet together at his house, and to lament with his relations ; at the same time the men would get together at the door, with a number of clergy, according to the person's circum- stances ; and the corpse was carried by people of his own rank, with the solemnity of tapers and singing, to that church where the person had desired to be buried ; which custom was now laid aside, and, so far from having a crowd of women to lament over them, that great numbers passed out of the world without a single person : and few had the tears of their friends at their departure ; but those friends would laugh, and make themselves merry : for even the
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women had learned to postpone every other concern to that of their own lives. Nor was a corpse attended by more than ten or a dozen, nor those citizens of credit, but fellows hired for the purpose; who would put themselves under the bier, and carry it with all possible haste to the nearest church ; and the corpse was interred, without any great ceremony, where they could find room.
With regard to the lower sort, and many of middling rank, the scene was still more affecting ; for they staying at home either through poverty, or hopes of succour in dis- tress, fell sick daily by thousands, and, having nobody to attend them, generally died : some breathed their last in the streets, and others shut up in their own houses, when the stench that came from them made the first discovery of their deaths to the neighbourhood. And, indeed, every place was filled with the dead. A method now was taken, as well out of regard to the living, as pity for the dead, for the neighbours, assisted by what porters they could meet with, to clear all the houses, and lay the bodies at the doors ; and every morning great numbers might be seen brought out in this manner; from whence they were carried away on biers, or tables, two or three at a time ; and sometimes it has happened that a wife and her husband, two or three brothers, and a father and son, have been laid on together : it has been observed also, whilst two or three priests have walked before a corpse with their crucifix, that two or three sets of porters have fallen in with them ; and where they knew but of one, they have buried six, eight, or more : nor was there any to follow and shed a few tears over them ; for things were come to that pass, that men's lives were no more regarded than the lives of so many beasts. Hence it plainly appeared, that what the wisest in the ordinary course of things, and by a common train of calamities, could never be taught, namely, to bear them patiently ; this, by the excess of those calamities, was now grown a familiar lesson to the most simple and unthinking. The con- secrated ground no longer containing the numbers which were continually brought thither, especially as they were desirous of laying every one in the parts allotted to their families ; they were forced to dig trenches and to put them
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in by hundreds, piling them up in rows, as goods are stowed in a ship, and throwing in little earth till they were filled to the top. Not to rake any farther into the particulars of our misery, I shall observe that it fared no better with the adjacent country ; for to omit the different castles about us, which presented the same view in miniature with the city, you might see the poor distressed labourers with their families, without either the plague or physicians, or help of servants, languishing on the highways, in the fields, and in their own houses, and dying rather like cattle than human creatures ; and growing dissolute in their manners like the citizens, and careless of everything, as supposing every day to be their last, their thoughts were not so much employed how to improve as to make use of their substance for their present support : whence it happened that the flocks, herds, &c., and the dogs them- selves, ever faithful to their masters, being driven from their own homes, would wander, no regard being had to them, among the forsaken harvest ; and many times, after they had filled themselves in the day, would return of their own accord like rational creatures at night What can I say more, if I return to the city? unless that such was the cruelty of Heaven, and perhaps of men, that between March and July following, it is supposed, and made pretty certain, that upwards of a hundred thousand souls perished in the city only ; whereas, before that calamity, it was not supposed to have contained so many inhabitants. What magnificent dwellings, what noble palaces were then de- populated to the last person ! what families extinct ! what riches and vast possessions left, and no known heir to inherit ! what numbers of both sexes in the prime and vigour of youth, whom in the morning neither Galen, Hippocrates, nor ^Esculapius himself, but would have de- clared in perfect health, after dining heartily with their friends here, have supped with their departed friends in the other world I But I am weary of recounting our late miseries ; therefore, passing by everything that I can well omit, I shall only observe, that the city being left almost without inhabitants, it happened one Tuesday in the even- ing as I was informed by persons of good credit, that
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seven ladies all in deep mourning, as most proper for that time, had been attending Divine service (being the whole congregation), in new St. Mary's Church : who, as united by the ties either of friendship or relation, and of suitable years; viz., the youngest not less than eighteen, nor the eldest exceeding twenty-eight; so were they all discreet, nobly descended, and perfectly accomplished, both in person and behaviour. I do not mention their names, lest they should be displeased with some things said to have passed in conversation, there being a greater restraint on those diversions now; nor would I give a handle to ill- natured persons, who carp at everything that is praise- worthy, to detract in any way from their modesty by injurious reflections. And that I may relate therefore all that occurred without confusion, I shall affix names to every one bearing some resemblance to the quality of the person. The eldest then I call Pampinea, the next to her Flammetta, the third Philomena, the fourth Emilia, the fifth Lauretta, the sixth Neiphile, and the youngest Eliza : who being got together by chance rather than any appointment, into a corner of the church, and there seated in a ring; and leaving off their devotions, and falling into some dis- course together concerning the nature of the times; in a little while Pampinea thus began :
" My dear girls, you have often heard, as well as I, that no one is injured, where we only make an honest use of our own reason: now reason tells us that we are to preserve our lives by all possible means : and, in some cases, at the expense of the lives of others. And if the laws which regard the good of the community allow this, may not we much rather (and all that mean honestly as we do), without giving offence to any, use the means now in our power for our own preservation? Every moment when I think of what has passed to-day, and every day, I perceive, as you may also, that we are all in pain for ourselves. Nor do I wonder at this ; but much rather, as we are women, do I wonder that none of us should look out for a remedy, where we have so much reason to be afraid. We stay here for no other purpose, that I can see, but to observe what numbers come to be
INTRODUCTION
buried, or to listen if the monks, who are now reduced to a very few, sing their services at the proper times, or else to show by our habits the greatness of our distress. And if we go from hence, we are saluted with numbers of the dead and sick carried along the streets; or with persons who had been outlawed for their villainies, now facing it out publicly, in defiance of the laws. Or we see the scum of the city enriched with the public calamity, and insulting us with reproachful ballads. Nor is anything talked of but that such an one is dead or dying; and, were any left to mourn, we should hear nothing but lamentations. Or if we go home (I know not whether it fares with you as with myself), when I find out of a numerous family not one left, besides a maid-servant, I am frightened out of my senses ; and go where I will, the ghosts of the departed seem always before; not like the persons whilst they were living, but assuming a ghastly and dreadful aspect.
"Therefore the case is the same, whether we stay here, depart hence, or go home ; especially as there are few who are able to go, and have a place to go to, left but ourselves. And those few, I am told, fall into all sorts of debauchery ; and even the religious and ladies shut up in monasteries, supposing themselves entitled to equal liberties with others, are as bad as the worst. And if this be so (as you see plainly it is) what do we here? What are we dreaming of? Why less regardful of our lives than other people of theirs? Are we of less value to ourselves, or are our souls and bodies more firmly united, and so in less danger of dissolution? 'Tis monstrous to think in such a manner; so many of both sexes dying of this distemper in the very prime of their youth affords us an undeniable argument to the contrary. Wherefore, lest through our own wilful- ness or neglect, this calamity, which might have been prevented, should befall us, I should think it best (and I hope you will join with me) for us to quit the town, and avoiding, as we would death itself, the bad example of others, to choose some place of retirement, of which every one of us has more than one, where we may make our- selves innocently merry, without offering the least violence to the dictates of reason and our own consciences. There
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will our ears be entertained with the warbling of the birds, and our eyes with the verdure of the hills and valleys ; with the waving of corn-fields like the sea itself ; with trees of a thousand different kinds, and a more open and serene sky ? which, however overcast, yet affords a far more agree- able prospect than these desolate walls. The air also is pleasanter, and there is greater plenty of everything, at- tended with fewer inconveniences : for, though people die there as well as here, yet we shall have fewer such objects before us, as the inhabitants are less in number; and on the other part, if I judge right, we desert nobody, but are rather ourselves forsaken. For all our friends, either by death, or endeavouring to avoid it, have left us, as if we in no way belonged to them. As no blame then can ensue by following this advice, and perhaps sickness and death by not doing so, I would have us take our maids, and every- thing we may be supposed to want, and to remove every day to a different place, taking all the diversions in the meantime which the seasons will permit ; and there con- tinue, unless death should interpose, till we see what end Providence designs for these things. And this I remind you of, that your character will stand as fair by our going away reputably, as the characters of others will do, who stay at home with discredit."
The ladies having heard what Pampinea had to offer, not only approved of it, but were going to concert measures for their departure, when Philomena, who was a most discreet person, made answer : " Though Pampinea has spoken well, yet there is no occasion to run hand over head into it, as you are about to do. We are but women, nor is any of us so ignorant not to know how little able we shall be to conduct such an affair, without some man to help us. We are naturally fickle, obstinate, suspicious, and fearful ; and I doubt much, unless we take somebody into our scheme to manage it for us, lest it soon be at an end ; and perhaps, little to our reputation. Let us provide against this, therefore, before we begin."
Eliza then replied : " It is true, man is the head of a woman, and without his management it seldom happens that any undertaking of ours succeeds wrell. But how are
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these men to be come at ? We all know that the greatest part of our male acquaintance are dead, and the re^t all dispersed abroad, avoiding what we seek to avoid, and without our knowing where to find them. And to take strangers with us, would not be altogether so proper ; for, whilst we have regard to our health, we should so contrive matters that, wherever we go to repose and divert ourselves, no scandal may ensue from it." Whilst this was debated, behold, three gentlemen came into the church, the youngest not less than twenty-five years of age, and in whom neither the adversity of the times, the loss of relations and friends, nor even fear for themselves, could stifle, or indeed cool, the passion of love. One was called Pamphilus, the second Philostratus, and the third Dioneus, all of them well bred, and pleasant companions ; and who, to divert themselves in this time of affliction, were then in pursuit of their mistresses, who by chance were three of these seven ladies, and the other four all related to one or other of them. These gentlemen were no sooner within view, but the ladies had immediately their eyes upon them ; and Pampinea said, with a smile, " See, fortune is with us, and has thrown in our way three prudent and worthy gentlemen, who will conduct and wait upon us, if we think fit to accept of their service." Neiphile, with a blush, because she was one that had an admirer, answered : "Take care what you say; I know them all indeed to be persons of character, and fit to be trusted, even in affairs of more consequence, and in better company ; but, as some of them are enamoured of certain ladies here, I am only concerned lest we be drawn into some scrape or scandal, without either our fault or theirs." Philomena replied: "Never tell me, so long as I know myself to be virtuous, what other people may think ; God and the truth will be my defence : and if they be willing to go, we will say with Pampinea, that fortune is with us." The rest hearing her speak in this manner, gave consent that they should be called, and invited to partake in this expedition. And, without more words, Pampinea, related to one of the three, rose up, and made towards them, who were standing at a distance, attentive to what passed, and, after a cheerful salutation, acquainted them with
INTRODUCTION xxix
their design, and entreated that they would, out of pure friendship, oblige them with their company. The gentle- men at first took it all for a jest ; but, being assured to the contrary, immediately answered that they were ready ; and to lose no time, gave the necessary orders for what they would have done. Everything being thus prepared, and a messenger despatched before, whither they intended to go, the next morning, which was Wednesday, by break of day, the ladies, with some of their women, and the gentlemen, with every one his servant, set out from the city, and, after they had travelled two short miles, came to the place appointed. It was a little eminence, remote from any great road, covered with trees and plants of an agreeable verdure, on the top of which was a stately palace, with a grand and beautiful court in the middle ; within were galleries, and fine apartments elegantly fitted up, and adorned with most curious paintings ; around it were fine meadows, and most delightful gardens, with fountains of the purest and best water. The vaults also were stored with the richest wines, suited rather to the taste of debauchees, than of modest and virtuous ladies. This palace they found cleared out, and everything set in order for their reception, with the rooms all graced with the flowers of the season, to their great satisfaction. Being seated, Dioneus, who was the pleasantest of them all, and full of words, began : " Your wisdom it is, ladies, rather than any fore- sight of ours, which has brought us hither. I know not how you have disposed of your cares ; as for mine I left them all behind me when I came from home. Either prepare, then, to be as merry as myself (I mean with decency), or give me leave to go back again, and resume my cares where I left them.'* To whom Pampinea, as if she had disposed of hers in like manner, answered : " You say right, sir, we will be merry ; we fled from our troubles for no other reason. But, as extremes are never likely to last, I who first proposed the means by which such an agreeable set of company is now got together, and being desirous to make our mirth of some continuance, find there is a necessity for our appointing a principal, whom we should honour and obey in all things as our head ; whose
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province it shall be to regulate our diversions. And tha* every one may make trial of the burthen which attends care, as well as the pleasure which there is in superiority, nor, therefore, envy what he hath not yet tried, I hold it best that every one should experience both the trouble and the honour for one day. The first to be elected by us all, and who on the approach of the evening, shall name a person to succeed for the following day ; who, during the time of their government, are to give orders concerning the place where, and the manner how, we are to live." These words gave a general satisfaction, and they named her, with one consent, for the first day : whilst Philomena, running to a laurel tree, as having often heard how much that tree had always been esteemed, and what honour was conferred on those who were deservedly crowned with it, made a garland, and put it upon her head, which whilst the company continued together, was hereafter to be the ensign of sovereignty.
Pampinea, thus elected queen, enjoined silence, and having summoned the gentlemen's servants, and their own women, who were four in number, before her: "To give you the first example," said she, " how, by proceeding from good to better, we may live orderly and pleasantly, and continue together, without the least reproach, as long as we please : in the first place I declare Parmeno, Dioneus's servant, master of my household, and to him I commit the care of my family, and everything relating to my hall. Siriscus, Pamphilus's servant, I appoint my treasurer, and to be under the direction of Parmeno ; and Tindarus I command to wait on Philostratus and the other two gentle- men, whilst their servants are thus employed. Mysia, my woman, and Licisca, Philomena's, I order into the kitchen, there to get ready what shall be provided by Parmeno. To Chimera, Lauretta's, and Stratilia, Flammetta's, I give the care of the ladies' chambers, and to keep the room clean where we sit. And I will and command you all, on pain of my displeasure, that wherever you go, or what- ever you hear and see, you bring me no news here but what is good." These orders were approved by them all \ and she, rising from her seat, with a good deal of gaiety,
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added, "Here are gardens and meadows, where you may divert yourselves till three o'clock, when I shall expect you back, that we may dine in the cool of the day."
The company were now at liberty, and the gentlemen and ladies took a pleasant walk in the garden, talking over a thousand merry things by the way, and diverting them- selves there by singing love-songs, and weaving garlands of flowers, and returned at the time appointed, when they found Parmeno busy in the execution of his office : for in a saloon below was the table set forth, covered with the neatest linen, with glasses reflecting a lustre like silver ; and having washed their hands, by the queen's order, Parmeno desired them to sit down. The dishes now were served up in the most elegant manner, and the best wines brought in, the servants waiting all the time with the most profound silence : and, being well pleased with their entertainment, they dined with all the facetiousness and mirth imaginable. When dinner was over, as they could all dance, and some both play and sing well, the queen ordered in the musical instruments, and commanding Dioneus to take a lute, and Flammetta a viol, they struck up a dance, and the queen, with the rest of the company, took an agreeable turn or two, whilst the servants were sent to dinner ; and when the dance was ended, they began to sing, and continued till the queen thought it time to break up. Her permission being given, the gentlemen retired to their chambers, remote from the ladies' lodging rooms, and the ladies did the same, and undressed themselves for bed.
It was no sooner nine, than the queen arose, and ordered all to be called, alleging, that much sleep in the day-time was unwholesome ; and they went into a meadow of deep grass, where the sun had little power; and having the benefit of a pleasant breeze, they sat down in a circle, as the queen had commanded, who spoke in this manner : — " As the sun is high, and the heat excessive, and nothing is to be heard but the chirping of the grasshoppers among the olives, it would be madness for us to think of moving yet \ this is an airy place, and here are chess-boards and gam- mon-tables to divert yourselves with ; but if you are ruled by me, you will not play at all, since it often makes one
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party uneasy, without any great pleasure to the other, or to the looker-on ; but let us begin and tell stories, and in this manner one person will entertain the whole company ; and by the time it has gone round, the worst part of the day will be over, and then we can divert ourselves as we like best. If this be agreeable to you, then, for I wait to know your pleasure, let us begin ; if not, you are at your own disposal till the evening." This motion was approved by all ; whilst the queen continued, " Let every one for this first day take what subject he fancies most : " and turning to Pamphilus, who sat on her right hand, bade him begin ; who, in ready obedience to her commands, and being well heard, spoke to this effect
THE DECAMERON
THE FIRST DAY NOVEL I
Chappelet imposes upon the priest by a sham confession, and dies ; ana although a very wicked fellow », was afterwards reputed a saint ; and called St. Chappelet.
Ladies, it is most meet and right, that everything we do should be begun in the name of Him who is the Maker of all things. Therefore, as I am to entertain you first, I shall make choice of a very extraordinary instance, which may direct us to place all our hopes in Him, as the only unchangeable being, and evermore to praise Him. Certain it is, that all earthly things are transitory and mortal ; attended with great troubles, and subject to infinite dangers, which we who live embroiled with them, and are even part of them, could neither endure, nor find a remedy for, were it not for the especial grace of God that enables us : which blessing we are not to expect through our own merits, but His goodness, and the intercession of those saints who, having been once mortal men like ourselves, and done His will whilst on earth, now enjoy happiness and immortality in heaven; to whom, as to fit agents, informed of our frailties by their own experience, and not daring, perhaps, immediately to address ourselves to so great a Judge, we offer up our prayers for what we want. And we find His mercy the greater, as, not being able to pry into the secrets of His divine will, we may sometimes make choice of a mediator before Him, who is banished eternally from His
A
2
THE DECAMERON
presence : and yet He from whom nothing is hidden, having regard to the purity of the supplicant, rather than to his ignorance, or the situation of the person to whom he applies himself, hears those who pray in this manner, as if that person were really a saint : which will most plainly appear from the following story ; I say most plainly, not consider- ing the judgment of God, but that of man.
There lived in France a person whose name was Musciat; who, from a wealthy merchant, became a courtier, and went into Tuscany with Charles, surnamed Lackland, brother to the King of France, who was instigated to that expedition by Pope Boniface. This gentleman, finding his affairs considerably perplexed, and lying, as is usual to persons in trade, in abundance of hands ; nor being able to right them himself, without a good deal of time and trouble, resolved to entrust them with several people; and settled everything to his mind, excepting some debts which were standing out from persons living in Burgundy. The reason was, he had found them to be a set of perverse, ill-conditioned, rascally fellows, and he could not for his life conceive, where a man might be met with bad enough to match them : after much thinking about it, he at last called to mind one Ciapperello da Prato, who used to come much to his house at Paris; and being a little pragmatical fellow, the French, not knowing the meaning of his true name, but thinking him to have been called Cappello, gave him the diminutive name of Ciappelletto, or Chappelet, by which he was generally known there.
Now the character of the man was this : Being by trade a scrivener, he was really ashamed if any writings of his (he did not draw many indeed) were found without some fault, or flaw ; and would do that sort of work for nothing with more pleasure than a just thing that he was to be well paid for. He was glad at all times of being a false witness, whether it was required of him or not : and as great regard was had to an oath in France, he, who made no scruple to forswear himself on every occasion, was sure of every cause that depended on his single testimony. To foment quarrels and disputes was his utmost pleasure, especially amongst
FIRST DAY 3
friends or relations ; and the more mischief he occasioned, the greater was his satisfaction. Was a man to be dis- patched at any time; he was the person to undertake it, and would do it with his own hands. He was a great blasphemer of God and His saints, swearing and cursing on every occasion. He went to church at no time, but spoke always of the holy sacraments in the same abomin- able terms, as he would do of the vilest things in the world; on the contrary, he was eternally at taverns, and places of bad repute. Of women he was as fond as a dog is of a stick; but to unnatural vice, no wretch so aban- doned as himself. He would pilfer and steal with as much conscience as others give to charity. He was a glutton and drunkard to the ruin of his constitution. He was also a most notorious gamester ; making use always of false dice. And, to sum up his character in few words, perhaps his equal in wickedness has not yet been born. Yet, bad as he was, he had all along been screened by the favour and interest of Musciat, as well from the resentment of private persons, whom he had often injured, as from that of the court, to which he gave daily provocation.
This man coming into Musciat's thoughts at last, who was no stranger to every part of his life, he concluded him to be such an one as the tempers of the people he had to deal with required ; and sending for him, he addressed him thus :
" Master Chappelet, you know that I am about to leave this country, and as I have affairs to settle with some people of Burgundy, who are full of quirks and deceit, I do not know any one that I can employ so fit to manage them as yourself : you have a good deal of spare time, and if you will undertake it, I will procure you recommendatory letters from court, and allow you a reasonable part of what you recover."
Chappelet, who found himself much embarrassed in the world, and likely to be more so when his great friend was gone, without hesitating at all about it, answered that he was willing. They agreed upon terms ; Musciat gave him a deputation, and procuring him the letters he had pro- mised, he set out for Burgundy; where, being quite a
4
THE DECAMERON
stranger, he endeavoured, contrary to his former manner, to do the business he came about by fair means ; reserving a different behaviour to the last. He lodged with two brothers ; who were usurers ; and they entertained him well on Musciat's account ; and falling sick there, they had physicians to him, and servants to attend him; nor was anything omitted that could be of service, but all in vain; for this worthy good man, who was advanced in years, and had been also an irregular liver, grew worse and worse in the judgment of the physicians; so that he was looked upon as a dead man; at which the brothers were greatly concerned. And one day, being near the chamber where he lay, they began to have some talk together about it ; and one said to the other :
" What shall we do with this fellow ? We have a fine affair upon our hands, by means of his wickedness. For to turn him out in this condition would afford matter for reproach, and also be a proof of our want of understand- ing ; the people seeing us receive him before into our house, and supply him with physic, and all things necessary; and now send him out whilst he is dying, without his having been able to do anything that we ought to be offended at. — And on the other hand, he has been such a vile fellow always, that he will never be brought to con- fess, and to receive the sacraments of the Church; and should he die without them, no church will receive his body ; but he must be put into the ground like a dog. Or should he confess, his sins will appear so enormous, that the like were never known : nor can any priest be found that will give him absolution : and without that he must still be thrown into a ditch. And should this happen, the people of this country, who think ours an iniquitous trade, and are daily reviling us, would be apt to raise a mutiny, and declare publicly, that they will no longer bear with these Lombards, these extortioning villains, whom the Church disdains to receive into her bosom ; and make that a pre- tence to plunder us of all we are worth, and abuse our persons into the bargain ; so that it will be bad for us on all sides, should this man die."
Chappelet, whom we observed not to lie far off, heard all
FIRST DAY 5
this, as sick people are often quick of hearing, and calling them to him he said :
" I would have you be in no doubts or fears of harm to yourselves on my account. I have heard what you have been talking about, and am confident the thing would happen as you say, were everything to be as you suppose ; but I will take care that it shall happen otherwise : I have been guilty of so much wickedness, in my lifetime, that to add one sin at my death, will not make the sum much greater : therefore send out for the most able and religious priest you know of, if a religious one can be found, and I will take such care of your affairs, as well as of my own, that you shall have reason to be satisfied."
The brothers expected no great matters from this; but went however to a convent, and desired that some learned and holy person would come, and take the confession of a Lombard, who was sick in their house. Accordingly, a venerable old friar, of great sanctity and learning, and much reverenced by the whole city, was ordered to go with them ; who being come into the room, and seated by the sick man's bed-side, began, after some heavenly consolations, to inquire of him, how long it was since he had last confessed. To whom Chappelet, who had never confessed in his whole life, answered :
" Holy father, it has been usual with me always to confess once a week at least ; and sometimes oftener \ but it is true, since I have been sick, my affliction has been such, that I have not confessed at all."
The friar replied : " Son, it is well, thus you should always do ; and I perceive, as you have confessed so often, that I shall have but little trouble, either in hearing or asking you questions."
" Good father, do not say so," cried Chappelet : " I have never so often confessed, but that I would always mention every sin that I could recollect from the hour I was born. Therefore I beg you would examine me as particularly as if 1 had never confessed at all ; and do not regard my languishing condition; for I had much rather do what may disoblige the flesh, than, by consult- ing the ease of my body, bring damnation on my soul,
6
THE DECAMERON
which my Saviour has purchased with His most precious
blood."
The good old man was ravished with these expressions, esteeming them proofs of a well - disposed mind ; and having commended his piety, he asked him whether he had ever offended God by the knowledge of women. To whom Chappelet, fetching a deep sigh, replied :
" I am ashamed to speak the truth, lest I should be thought to offend by vain-glory."
"Speak out boldly," said the priest, "for there can be no harm in telling truth, whether at confession or any other time."
"Since you make me easy in this," quoth Chappelet, " I will speak out j I am as pure, in that respect, as when I first came into the world."
"God bless you, my son," said the friar, "you have done well ; and this is so much the more meritorious, as you have liberties far beyond us, of doing otherwise : " and he added, "but were you never given to gluttony?"
Chappelet answered with a groan :
" Yes, very often ; for besides fasting in Lent, as all devout persons do, I have accustomed myself to live three days in a week at least on bread and water; and I have drunk the water sometimes, especially if I have been fatigued with praying, or performing a pilgrimage, with as much pleasure as drunkards drink wine ; and sometimes I have wished for salads, and have eat my bread with more pleasure than a person ought, who fasts out of devotion."
" My son," replied the friar, " these are very natural and trivial crimes, and I would not have you burthen your conscience more than is necessary : every one, be he ever so holy, eats with a good appetite after fasting, and drinks with pleasure when he has been fatigued."
" Do not tell me these things to comfort me only," said Chappelet, " you know I cannot be ignorant, that whatever relates to the service of God should be done sincerely, and with a good will, otherwise we are guilty of sin
"I am well satisfied," returned the friar, "in your
FIRST DAY 7
being of that opinion, and much approve the purity of your conscience : but tell me, have you not been guilty of the sin of covetousness, desiring more than was fit, or detaining what was not your due ? "
" I would not have you think so," said Chappelet, " because you see me in the house with these usurers : I have no concern with them, but came purely to per- suade them to leave off that abominable way of living ; and believe I might have prevailed, had it not pleased God to visit me in this manner. My father left me a plentiful fortune, and I immediately disposed of the greater part of it to religious uses; and betook myself to trade for a maintenance, and to have it in my power to relieve the poor in Christ : I cannot say indeed that I have not been desirous of gain ; but I always gave half to the poor, and kept the other part for my own necessary occasions; and God hath so far blessed me, that my affairs have always prospered."
" You have done well," said the confessor : " but have you not been often transported with anger and passion ? "
"Very often truly!" answered the penitent, "but who can forbear, seeing the common degeneracy of mankind, who are every day breaking the commandments of God, and are not kept in awe by His judgments? I could rather choose to be out of the world, than to see youth run after vanity, swear and forswear, haunt taverns, neglect going to church, and follow the ways of the world before those of God."
"My son," said the friar, "passion here is commend- able ; nor shall I enjoin you any penance for it : but have you been transported by rage at no time, to murder, or use indecent expressions, or to do any other injury ? "
" Alas, sir ! " answered Chappelet, " how can you, who appear to be so good a man, mention any such thing ? Do you believe, had I ever entertained such thoughts, that God would have suffered me to live? These are the actions of robbers and villains, whom I never look upon without offering up a prayer to God for their conversion."
"God bless thee again, my dear child," said the good
/
8
THE DECAMERON
old man ; " but have you never borne false witness against, or spoken ill of another, or taken away that from him 1 which properly belonged to him ? "
" Yes, reverend father," answered he, " I must needs confess I have spoken ill of another, for I had once a neighbour, who used to beat his wife without cause ; and I gave him a bad character to her parents ; so much did I pity the poor woman, who was always ill treated by him, as often as he got drunk."
" But," said the friar, " you tell me you have been a merchant, did you never cheat any person, as is common for them to do ? "
" Yes, in good truth, sir," he replied, "but I know only of one person, who, having brought the money for a piece of cloth which I had sold him, I put it into a bag without counting it, and at the month's end, when I came to tell it over, I found fourpence too much ; but as I was not able to find the owner again, after keeping it a year, I gave it to the poor."
" This is a mere trifle," said the friar, " and you did well to dispose of it in that manner."
He then put some other questions to him, which Chap* pelet answered as he had done the rest; and just as he was proceeding to absolution, Chappelet cried out,
" There is another thing hangs upon me, which I have not confessed."
The priest inquired what that was ; and he answered,
" I remember once making my maid clean the house on a holiday ; and I have not showed that regard for the Lord's day which I ought."
" Oh ! " said the friar, "that is a small matter, my son."
"Do not call it so, dear father," quoth the other, " Sunday is a day much to be reverenced, being the day on which our Lord rose from the dead."
" Then," said the priest, " is there anything more ? "
"Yes," answered he, "I remember, once in my life, to have spit in the house of God."
The friar smiled, and said, " My son, that is not to be regarded ; we ourselves spit there every day."
" And you are much to blame for it," returned he, " for
FIRST DAY 9
nothing should be kept so clean as the temple of God^ where we offer sacrifice." In short, he told him many more things of that kind, and at last, as he could weep when he pleased, he fell groaning and sobbing, as though he would burst his very heart.
" Son, what is the matter ? " said the friar.
He answered, "Alas, sir! there is one sin left behind, which I could never endure to confess, the shame to mention it is so great, and which, as often as I recollect, I lament in the manner you now see ; nay, I am convinced that God will never forgive it."
"Go, go, my son," quoth the friar, "what is that you say ? I tell you, that if all the wickedness that ever was committed by man, or can be committed whilst the world endures, was to be amassed in one person, if that person was thoroughly penitent, as I see you are, so great is God's mercy, that upon confession, it would all be forgiven him ; tell me then what it is."
" Alas ! father," said Chappelet, shedding abundance of tears, "my sin is so heinous, that I despair altogether of pardon, unless you assist me, and move God by your prayers."
"Speak out, then," said the friar, "and I promise to intercede for you."
Chappelet yet kept weeping, and would say nothing ; the priest exhorting him all the while to clear his con- science ; and after he had held him some time in suspense, he fetched a deep sigh, and said,
" Since you have promised to pray for me, I will disclose it : you must know then, that when I was a child, I once cursed my mother ; " and here he began to lament afresh in a most grievous manner.
" My good son," said the friar, " does this seem so great a sin ? Men are cursing God every day, yet He pardons them upon repentance ; and do you think you shall never be forgiven ? Weep not ; but let this be your comfort, that though you had even a hand in nailing Christ upon the cross, yet would that sin be forgiven on such a repent- ance as yours."
" What do you say ? " quoth Chappelet ; 14 what ! to curse
10
THE DECAMERON
my dearest mother, who bore me day and night in her womb for nine months, and suckled me many hundreds of times at her breast ! No, the sin is so great, that I must inevitably perish, unless your prayers prevent it."
The friar, finding he had no more to say, absolved and gave him his benediction; and, supposing that he spoke truth all the while, thought him the most pious man living. And, indeed, who could think otherwise, having it all from a dying man? He afterwards said to him, "Monsieur Chappelet, by God's assistance you will soon recover ; but if it should please the Almighty to take your blessed and well-disposed soul unto Himself, will you give leave for your body to be buried in our convent ? "
" I would have it laid nowhere else," answered he, " both because you have promised to pray for me, and as I have always had a great regard for your order ; therefore, when you go home I beg you would take care that the real body of our Lord, which was consecrated at your altar this morn- ing, may be brought to me ; for, unworthy as I am, I intend, with your leave, to receive it, and after that extreme unction ; so that though I have been a great sinner all my life, I may die at least like a Christian."
The holy man was much pleased, and told him that he said well, and promised that it should be brought that day ; and so it was.
The brothers being a little suspicious that he intended to impose upon them, had posted themselves behind a parti- tion of the room, where they heard all that passed ; inso- much that they could scarcely refrain from laughing ; and said one to the other,
" What a strange fellow this is ! whom neither age, sick- ness, fear of death, which is at hand, nor of God, at whose tribunal he must shortly appear, are sufficient to deter from his wicked courses, or to prevent his dying as he has always lived ! " But as he had obtained burial in the church by that means, they cared no farther. He then received the sacrament, and, growing worse and worse, had extreme unction, and died the evening that he had made this extra- ordinary confession. The brothers took immediate care that he should be honourably interred, and sent forthwith
FIRST DAY
to the convent to desire they would come, as was usual, and perform vigils and matins for the deceased : and the priest, to whom he had confessed, went, upon this notice, to the prior, and had a chapter called, when he informed them how holy a person Chappelet was, as he could easily perceive by his confession : and hoping that God would work many miracles by him, he persuaded them to receive his body with all due reverence and devotion; to which the prior and the credulous brotherhood all consented, and that night they came in a body to the place where the corpse lay, and sang the great and solemn vigils ; and in the morn- ing they all went in their hoods and surplices, with books in their hands, and the cross carried before them for the body, singing all the way ; and they brought it with the utmost solemnity to their church, being followed by the whole city : and having set it down there, the good confessor mounted the pulpit, and told them wonderful things concerning his life, fastings, chastity, simplicity, innocence, and sanctity ; speaking more particularly of that great crime, which he had confessed with so much concern, as scarcely to be persuaded that God would forgive him. And from thence he took occasion to reprimand his audience in this manner : " Yet you, wicked as you are, make no scruple to curse God, the holy mother of God, and all the host of heaven, for the least trifle." He flourished much concerning his truth and purity ; and worked so far upon them by his discourse, to which all yielded an implicit faith, that when the service was ended they pressed forward to kiss the deceased's hands and feet ; and the funeral clothes were immediately rent to pieces, every one thinking himself happy who could get a single rag. All that day he was kept, so that every one might see and visit him ; and at night most honourably interred in a marble sepulchre : and on the following day was a great procession of devout persons, to worship at his shrine with lighted tapers, and to offer the waxen images which they had vowed. And such was the fame of his sancthy, and the people's devotion towards him, that nobody in time of trouble would apply themselves to any other saint but him, calling him St. Chappelet, and affirm- ing, that God had wrought many miracles by him, and still
i9 THE DECAMERON
continued to work for such as recommended themselves devoutly to him.
Thus lived and died master Ciapperello da Prato, and became a saint as you have heard, of whom I will not say but he may be happy ; for though his whole life could not be worse, it is not impossible, but, before the hour of his death, he might be such a penitent, that God should have mercy on him, and receive him into His kingdom. But as this we know nothing of, we have much more reason, from what appears, to conclude that he is more likely in the hands of the devil in purgatory, than amongst the angels in Paradise. And if it be so, great is God's mercy towards us ; who, not regarding our errors, but the purity of our intention, whenever we make choice of an improper medi- ator, hears us as well as if we had applied ourselves to one truly a saint. And therefore, that His grace may preserve us in our present calamity, and in this cheerful and agree- able society, let us praise His name, as we first began ; re- commending ourselves to Him inlime of need, with a full assurance of being always heard.
NOVEL II
Abraham the Jew, at the instigation of Jeannot de Chivigni, goes to the court of Rome, and seeing the wickedness of the clergy there, returns to Paris, and becomes a Christian,
Some parts of Pamphilus's story made them laugh heartily ; and the whole was much commended by the ladies, who had been very attentive ; and, as it was now ended, the queen ordered Neiphile, in the next seat to her, to go on in the method she had prescribed, who, being as affable in be- haviour as her person was beautiful, very cheerfully answered that she was willing, and began in this manner : —
Pamphilus has showed us, in his novel, the great goodness of God in not regarding any errors of ours, which proceed from the blindness and imperfection of our nature. And I intend to set forth in mine, how the same goodness of God (by bearing with the vices of those persons, who, though
FIRST DAY 13
obliged to give testimony both in their words and actions concerning it, yet do the reverse) displays itself in the most plain and evident manner ; whence we may be taught more steadily to persevere in what we believe.
At Paris there lived, as I have been told, a great merchant, and a worthy person, called Jeannot de Chivigni, a dealer in silk, and an intimate friend to a certain rich Jew, whose name was Abraham, a merchant also, and a very honest man ; and Jeannot, being no stranger to his good and upright intentions, was greatly troubled that the soul of so wise and well-meaning a person should perish through his unbelief. He began, therefore, in the most friendly manner, to entreat him to renounce the errors of Judaism, and em- brace the truth of Christianity, which he might plainly see, as the most wise and holy institution, daily to gain ground, and flourish more and more, whereas their religion was dwindling to nothing. The Jew answered, that he esteemed no religion like his own ; that he was born in it, and in it he intended to live and die ; nor could anything make him alter his resolution. Notwithstanding this, Jeannot began, in a few days, with the same arguments over again, setting forth, in as awkward a manner as a merchant must be supposed to do, for what reasons our religion ought to be preferred : and though the Jew was well read in their law, yet, whether it was his regard to the man, or that Jeannot had the spirit of God upon his tongue, he began to be greatly pleased with his arguments ; but continued obstinate, nevertheless, in his opinion, nor would suffer himself to be converted. Jeannot continued his most earnest solicitations, insomuch that the Jew, overcome at last by them, said : " I perceive, Jeannot, you are very desirous I should become a Christian ; I am willing to do as you would have me, but first I have a mind to go to Rome, to see him whom you call God's vicar on earth, and to consider his ways a little, and those of his brother cardinals ; and if they appear in such a light to me that I may be able to comprehend by them, and by what you have said, that your religion is better than mine, as you would persuade me, I will then do as I said ; otherwise I will continue a Jew as I am." When Jeannot heard this he was much troubled, and said to himself : " I have lost all
i4 THE DECAMERON
my labour, which I thought well-bestowed, expecting to have converted this man ; for should he go to Rome, and see the wickedness of the clergy there, so far from turning Christian, were he a Christian, he would certainly become a Jew." Then applying himself to Abraham, he said : " Alas ! my friend, why should you be at the great trouble and expense of such a journey ? Not to mention the dangers, both by sea and land, to which so rich a person as yourself must be exposed, do you think to find nobody here that can baptize you ? Or if you have any doubts and scruples, where will you meet with more able persons than are here to clear them up for you, and to answer such questions as you shall put to them ? You may suppose the prelates to be like what you see in France ; but more perfect indeed, as they are nearer to the principal pastor. Then let me advise you to save this journey against another time, when you may want some pardon or indulgence, and probably then I may bear you company."
The Jew answered, " I believe it is as you say ; but to make short of the matter, I am fully resolved, if you would have me to do what you have so much solicited, to go thither; else I will in no wise comply." Jeannot seeing him determined, said, " God be with you ! " and, supposing that he would never be a Christian after he had seen Rome, gave him over for lost. The Jew took horse, and made the best of his way to Rome, where he was most honourably received by his brethren, the Jews ; and, without saying a word what he was come about, he began to inspect narrowly into the manner of living of the pope, the cardinals, and other prelates, and of the whole court ; and, from what he himself perceived, being a person quick of sight, and as he was informed by others, he found that, from the highest to the lowest, they were given to all sorts of lewdness, without the least shame or remorse ; so that the only way to obtain anything considerable was, by applying to prostitutes of every description. He observed, also, that they were generally drunkards and gluttons, and, like brutes, more solicitous about their bellies than anything else. Inquir- ing farther, he found them all such lovers of money, that they would not only buy and sell man's blood in general,
FIRST DAY 15
but even the blood of Christians, and sacred things, of what kind soever, whether benefices, or pertaining to the altar : and they drove as great a trade of this, as there is in selling cloth and other commodities at Paris : that to palpable simony they had given the plausible name of procuration, and debaucheries they called supporting the body ; as if God had been unacquainted with their wicked intentions, and, like men, was to be imposed upon by the names of things. These and other things which I shall pass over, gave great offence to the Jew, who was a sober and modest person ; and now thinking he had seen enough, he returned home.
As soon as Jeannot heard of his arrival, he went to see him, thinking of nothing so little as his conversion ; and they received one another with a great deal of pleasure : and in a day or two, after he had recovered from his fatigue, Jeannot began to inquire of him what he thought of the holy father, the cardinals, and the rest of the court ! To whom the Jew immediately answered : " To me it seems as if God was much kinder to them than they de- serve ; for, if I may be allowed to judge, I must be bold to tell you, that I have neither seen sanctity, devotion, or anything good in the clergy of Rome ; but, on the contrary, luxury, avarice, gluttony, and worse than these, if worse things can be, are so much in fashion with all sorts of people, that I should rather esteem the court of Rome to be a forge, if you allow the expression, for diabolical opera- tions than things divine; and, for what I can perceive, your pastor, and consequently the rest, strive with their whole might and skill to overthrow the Christian religion, and to drive it from off the face of the earth, even where they ought to be its chief succour and support. But as I do not see this come to pass, which they so earnestly aim at ; on the contrary, that your religion gains strength, and becomes every day more glorious ; I plainly perceive the Spirit of God to be the protector of it, as the most true and holy of all others. For which reason, though I con- tinued obstinate to your exhortations, nor would suffer myself to be converted by them, now I declare to you, that I will no longer defer being made a Christian. Let
1 6 THE DECAMERON
us go then to the church, and do you take care that 1 be baptized according to the manner of your holy faith." Jeannot, who expected a quite different conclusion, was the most overjoyed man that could be ; and taking him to our Lady's church at Paris, he requested the priests there to baptize Abraham ; and they, finding that it was his desire, immediately performed it ; Jeannot being his sponsor, gave him the name of John. He afterwards took care to have him well instructed in our faith, in which he made a speedy proficiency, and became, in time, a great and good man.
NOVEL III
Melchizedcck) a Jew> by a story of the three ringsy escapes a most dangerous snare, which Saladin had prepared for him.
This novel was universally applauded when Philomena thus began : —
Neiphile's story puts me in mind of what happened to a certain Jew ; for as enough has been said concerning God and the truth of our religion, it will not be amiss if we descend to the actions of men. I proceed, therefore, to the relation of a thing, which may make you more cautious for the time to come, in answering questions that shall be put to you. For you must know, that, as a man's folly often brings him down from the most exalted state of life to the greatest misery, so shall his good sense secure him in the midst of the utmost danger, and procure him a safe and honourable repose. There are many instances of people being reduced by their foolishness, which I choose to omit, as they happen daily ; but what great cause for comfort a person's good understanding may at some times afford, I shall make appear, as I promised, in the following short novel.
Saladin was so brave and great a man, that he had raised himself from an inconsiderable person to be Sultan of Babylon, and had gained many victories over both the Turkish and Christian princes. This monarch, having in divers wars, and by many extraordinary expenses, run
FIRST DAY 17
through all his treasure, some urgent occasion fell out, that he wanted a large sum of money. Not knowing which way he might raise enough to answer his necessities, he at last called to mind a rich Jew of Alexandria, named Melchizedeck, who let out money to interest. Him he believed to have wherewithal to serve him ; but then he was so covetous, that he would never do it willingly, and he was unwilling to force him. But as necessity has no law, after much thinking which way the matter might best be effected, he at last resolved to use force under some colour of reason. He therefore sent for, and received him in a most gracious manner, and making him sit down, he thus ad- dressed him : " Honest man, I hear from divers persons that thou art very wise, and knowing in religious matters ; wherefore I would gladly know from thee which religion thou judgest to be the true one, viz., the Jewish, the Mahometan, or the Christian ? " The Jew (truly a wise man) found that Saladin had a mind to trap him ; and perceiving that he must gain his point should he prefer any one religion, after considering a little how best to avoid the snare, his invention at last supplied him with the following answer. "The question which your Highness has pro- posed is very curious ; and, that I may give you my senti- ments, I must beg leave to tell a short story.
" I remember often to have heard of a great and rich man, who, among his most rare and precious jewels, had a ring of exceeding great beauty and value; and being proud of possessing a thing of such worth, and desirous that it should continue for ever in his family, he declared, by will, that to which soever of his sons he should give this ring, him he designed for his heir, and that he should be respected as the head of the family. That son to whom the ring was given, made the same law with respect to his descendants, and the ring passed from one to another in a long succession, till it came to a person who had three sons, all virtuous and dutiful to their father, and all equally beloved by him. And the young men, knowing what de- pended upon the ring, and ambitious of superiority, began to entreat their father, who was now growing old, every one for himself, that he would give the ring to him. The
18
THE DECAMERON
good man, equally fond of all, was at a loss which to prefer ; and as he had promised all, and being willing to satisfy all, privately got an artist to make two others, which were so like the first, that he himself scarcely knew the true one ! and at his death gave one privately to each of his sons. They afterwards all claimed the honour and estate, each disputing them with his brothers, and produc- ing his ring ; and the rings were found so much alike, that the true one could not be distinguished. To law then they went, which should succeed, nor is that yet decided. And thus it has happened, my lord, with regard to the three laws given by God the Father, concerning which you proposed your question : every one believes he is the true heir of God, has His law, and obeys His commandments ; but which is in the right is uncertain in like manner as of the rings."
Saladin perceived that he had escaped the net which was spread for him ; he therefore resolved to discover his necessity to him, to see if he would lend him money, telling him at the same time what he designed to have done, had not his discreet answer prevented him. The Jew freely supplied him with what he wanted, Saladin afterwards paid him with a great deal of honour, made him large presents, besides maintaining him nobly at his court, and was his friend as long as he lived.
NOVEL IV
A monk having committed an offence, for which he ought to have been severely punished, saves himself by wittily proving his abbot guilty of the very same fault.
Thus ended Philomena, when Dioneus, who sat next to her (without waiting the queen's order, as knowing that he was to follow in course), spoke as follows :
If I understand you right, ladies, we are assembled here to amuse ourselves by telling stories : whilst nothing, then, is done contrary to this intention, I suppose every one has liberty to relate what he thinks will be most entertaining ;
FIRST DAY 19
therefore, having heard how, by the pious admonitions of Jeannot de Chivigni, Abraham the Jew was advised to his soul's salvation ; and also how Melchizedeck, by his good sense, saved his wealth from the designs of Saladin ; I shall without fear of reproof, show, in few words, how cunningly a monk saved his bones from the punishment intended him.
There was once, in the territories of Lunigiana, a mon- astery, better stored both with monks and religion than many are now-a-days, to which belonged a young monk, whose constitution neither fasting nor praying could humble. Now it happened one day, early in the morning, whilst his brethren were all asleep, that, taking a walk about their church, which stood in a lonesome place, he cast his eye upon a farmer's daughter, who was gathering herbs, and immediately felt a strong temptation, ill suiting with his profession; and drawing near, he entered into discourse with her, and prevailed upon her to go to his cell with him, before anybody was stirring abroad to see them; where, whilst they were diverting themselves together, it happened that the abbot, being just awake, and passing by the door, thought he heard something of a noise within ; and laying his ear to listen, could distinguish a woman's voice. At first he was inclined to make him open the door, but he afterwards thought of a different method, and returned to his chamber to wait till he came out. The monk, though he was pleased with his companion, could not help being a little suspicious of a discovery, and imagining that he heard somebody treading at the door, he peeped through a crevice, and saw the abbot standing to listen ; and knowing that he was detected, and should be soundly punished, he became very uneasy. Yet, without showing anything of it to the girl, he was contriving how to get clear of the affair ; and he hit on a stratagem which succeeded to his heart's desire. Pretending that he could stay no longer — " I must go," he cried, " and will contrive a way to get you off without being seen; lie still, then, till I return." He now locked the door after him, and carried the key to the abbot, as is usual when they stir out of the monastery, and putting a good face on the matter, he said — " Reverend father, I could not
20
THE DECAMERON
get all my wood home this morning, and if you please 1 will go now and fetch the remainder." The abbot, willing to make a more perfect discovery, took the key, and gave leave. No sooner was the other departed, but he began to consider what he had best do in this case ; whether to open the door in presence of all the monks, that so, the offence being known to all, they could have no room to murmur when he proceeded to punishment ; or, whether he should not rather inquire of the damsel herself, how she had been brought thither. Supposing, also, that she might be a person's daughter whom he would not have disgraced in that public manner, he thought it best to see who she was first, and then come to some resolution. So stepping privately to the chamber, he went in, and locked the door after him. The girl, on seeing him, was in great confusion, and fell a weeping ; whilst our abbot, finding her to be young and handsome, was seized (old as he was) with the same desires as the young monk had been, and began to reason thus with himself : " Why should I not take a little pleasure when I may have it? for plague and trouble I know enough every day. She is handsome, and nobody can ever know it. If I can persuade her, I see no reason why I should not. Such another offer may never fall in my way, and I hold it best to take it whilst I can have it." Upon this, his purpose of going thither being quite changed, he went nearer, and began to comfort her, desiring her not to weep; and making some farther advances, acquainted her, at last, with his intention ; and she, who was made neither of flint nor steel, easily complied. The monk, who, under pretence of going to the wood, had concealed himself in the dormitory; on seeing the abbot go alone to his chamber, promised himself success ; but when he saw him lock the door, he thought it past all doubt; and coming from the place where he lay hid, he heard and saw through a grating in the door all that passed between them. The abbot, after he had stayed some time, locked the door again, and returned to his chamber; and supposing the monk to be now come from the wood, he resolved to reprimand and imprison him, that so the girl might remain solely to himself ; and causing him to be sent for, he gave
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21
him a severe rebuke, and ordered him to prison. The monk answered, very readily, — " Good sir, I have not been so long of the Benedictine order, to be acquainted with all the particularities thereto belonging : your reverence in- structed me well in the observance of fasts and vigils ; but you never told me how I was to behave with regard to women. But, as you have so lately set me an example, I promise, if you will forgive me, to follow it, and to do here- after as I have seen you." The abbot being quick of ap- prehension, found the monk knew more than he expected, and being ashamed to punish him for a crime of which himself was known to be guilty, he pardoned him; and enjoining his silence, they had the girl conveyed privately out of the monastery, whither she was afterwards often said to return.
NOVEL V
The Marchioness of Monferrat, by an entertainment of hens, and somt witty speeches^ cures the King of France of his dishonourable love,
Dioneus's story had put all the ladies to the blush, at the very beginning ; and they looked at each other with a sort of smile all the time it lasted ; giving him to know, by a gentle reprimand, that such sort of tales should not be told among women. The queen then pointed to Flam- metta, who sat next, to take her turn, who most cheerfully began in this manner :
It is no little joy to me, to find the force of smart and witty replies so well set forth in what is already passed among us. And, as it is accounted a mark of good sense in men, to aim at ladies of superior quality to themselves ; so is it no less a token of the greatest discretion in women, to take care never to be surprised in love by men of higher degree. For which reason I shall now relate, how a woman by her wit and address may ward off an attack of that kind, when there is a design upon her honour.
The Marquis of Monferrat was a person of great valour, and being standard-bearer to the church, was gone in a general crusade of the Christian princes against the Turks.
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THE DECAMERON
And one day as they were discoursing of his prowess at the court of Philip, surnamed the Short-sighted, who was pre- paring in France for the like expedition, a courtier said, in the presence of the king, that the whole world had not so accomplished a pair as the marquis and his lady ; for as much as he excelled other cavaliers in valour, so much was she superior to the rest of her sex in worth and beauty. These words so affected the king, that from that very moment, though he had never seen her, he began to be passionately in love. And he resolved to go by land as far as Genoa, that he might have an honourable pretence for paying her a visit, thinking that, as the marquis was absent, he could not fail of accomplishing his desires. With this design, having sent the greatest part of his company before, he set forward with a small retinue, and being come within a day's journey of the place he sent her word, that on the morrow she might expect his company at dinner. The lady very cheerfully replied, that she should esteem it a singular favour, and would make him heartily welcome.
A long while she could not conceive why so great a prince should come to see her, when her husband was from home ; but supposing at last that the fame of her beauty must have drawn him thither, she resolved nevertheless, as she was of a noble spirit, to show him due respect : for which purpose she summoned the principal gentry, who were left in the country, to consult them about what was necessary for his reception, reserving the entire manage- ment of the feast to herself. And, buying all the hens that were in the country, she ordered the cooks to get nothing else for his majesty's dinner, but to dress them all the different ways possible.
Next day the king came, and was received by the lady with great joy, and had all due honour paid him ; and finding her even exceed what had been said before in her favour, he was greatly astonished ; he then retired a while into the apartments, which were provided for him, to repose himself ; and when dinner was ready his majesty and the lady sat down at one table, and their attendants at other tables, all placed according to their respective qualities.
Here the king was served with dishes one after another,
FIRST DAY 23
and with the most costly wines, feasting his eyes yet more with the sight of the lady, and was extremely pleased with his entertainment. But observing at last that all the different courses, however tossed up and variously cooked, were nothing but hens, he began to wonder ; and though he knew that the country about was well stored with venison and wild fowl, and he had signified his intention time enough for them to have provided both, yet, being unwilling, how great soever his surprise might be, to mention anything but concerning the hens, turning a merry countenance to the lady, he said, " Madam, are only hens bred in this country, and no cocks ? ,?
The lady, who well understood the meaning of his question, now thinking that she had a fit opportunity of letting him know her sentiments, boldly answered : " Not so, my Lord ; but women, however they may differ in dress and titles, are the same here as in other places."
The king hearing this, immediately found out the mean- ing of the entertainment ; as also what virtue lay couched under her answer. And being sensible that words would be spent in vain on such a lady, and force he could not use ; he therefore judged it more becoming his honour to stifle his ill-conceived passion ; and so without more words (as being afraid of the lady's replies), when dinner was over, that he might shadow his dishonourable coming by a hasty departure, he thanked her for the honour he had received, took his leave, and posted away to Genoa,
NOVEL VI
A plain honest man, by a jest accidentally let fall, very wittily reproves the hypocrisy of the clergy.
Emilia, whose turn came next (the genteel reproof given by the marchioness to the King of France, being approved by the whole assembly), began in this manner : —
Nor will I conceal a most severe expression made use of by an honest simple man to a most sordid and avaricious monk, which you will both commend and laugh at.
There was, not long since, in our city, a friar belonging
THE DECAMERON
to the Inquisition, who, though he laboured much to appear righteous and zealous for the Christian faith, yet was he a much better inquisitor after such as had full purses, than those who held heterodox opinions. By which great care of his, he soon found out a person better stored with money than sense.
This man, not so much out of profaneness as want of thought, and perhaps overheated with liquor into the bar- gain, unluckily said to one of his companions, that he had better wine than Christ himself had ever drunk : which being reported to the inquisitor, and he understanding that the man's estate was large, and that he was full of money, sent all his myrmidons, had him seized, and commenced a process, not so much with a design of amending him in matters of faith, as to ease him of part of his money, as he soon did.
The man being brought before him, he inquired whether it was true what had been alleged against him ; and the poor man immediately answered, that it was, and told him in what manner the words were spoken. To whom the most holy inquisitor (devoted to St. John with the golden beard) replied : " What ! dost thou make Christ a drunkard, and curious in the choice of wines, like your common sots and frequenters of taverns ? and now wouldst excuse it as a small matter ? And so it may seem to thee ; but I tell thee, should I proceed with the rigour of justice, thou wouldst be burnt alive for it." With these and such-like words, as if he had to do with a downright atheist, he so terrified the poor wretch, that he was forced to have recourse to a little of St. John's golden grease (a most sovereign remedy against the pestilential avarice of the clergy, especially of the lesser friars, who are forbidden the use of money, although it be not mentioned by Galen in his book of medicines), with which he anointed his hands to such purpose, that the fire and faggot, with which he had been threatened, were changed into a cross ; which, being yellow and black, seemed like a banner designed for the Holy Land. The money being paid, he was to stay there for some time, being ordered, by way of penance, to hear mass of the holy cross every morning, to visit him also
FIRST DAY 25
at dinner-time, and to do nothing the rest of the day but what he commanded ; all which he performed punctually : and one morning it happened, that, during mass, the gospel was read, wherein were these words : " You shall receive a hundred for one, and so possess eternal life ; " which he kept thoroughly in his mind, and being come, at dinner time, the inquisitor asked him, whether he had heard mass that morning. 11 Yes, sir," replied the man very readily. — " Hast thou heard anything therein," quoth the inquisitor, " wherein thou art doubtful, or desirous to ask any ques- tions ? 99 — " No, surely," said the honest man, " and believe all that I have heard most steadfastly; only one thing, I remember, which occasions great pity in me for you and the rest of your brethren, as to what will become of you in the other world." — "And what are those words," replied the other, " which make you pity us so much ? 99 — " O, good sir," said the man, "do you remember the words of the gospel ? 1 You shall receive a hundred for one/ " — " Well, what of them?" quoth the inquisitor. — "I will tell you, sir," continued he : " Ever since I have been here, have I seen sometimes one, and sometimes two great cauldrons of broth, given out of your great abundance every day to the poor, after you and your brethren have been sufficiently regaled : and now, if for every one of these you are to receive a hundred, you will all of you be drowned in broth ! " This set the whole table a-laughing, and the inquisitor was quite confounded, knowing it to be a satire upon their great hypocrisy ; and were it not that he had been much blamed for his former prosecution, he would have given him more trouble : he ordered him, therefore, in a rage, to go about his business, and to come near him no more.
NOVEL VII
BergaminOy by telling a tale of a certain witty person named Primasse, very handsomely reproves the avarice zuhich had lately appeared in M. Cane della Scala.
The pleasantries of Emilia, and her agreeable story made them all laugh heartily, and they commended the contri-
26
THE DECAMERON
vance of the cross. After which Philostratus, who was to speak next, began : — It is a commendable thing, most worthy ladies, to hit a fixed mark ; but more so, to see a thing suddenly appearing, as suddenly hit by an archer. The scandalous and most wicked lives of the clergy, furnish matter enough for reproach and raillery, to such as are so disposed, without much thinking upon the matter : and therefore, though the honest man did well in touching master inquisitor, by aiming at the hypocritical charity of the friar, who gave that to the poor which they would otherwise either throw away, or give to the hogs ; yet is he more to be commended, of whom (the last story leading me to it) I am going to speak, who reproved M. Cane della Scala, a most magnificent person heretofore, of a sudden and unusual kind of avarice, which had lately appeared in him, figuring by other persons in a pretty novel, that which he intended to say concerning themselves, and which was as follows : M. Cane della Scala was known all over the world, as well for the wealth with which fortune had blessed him, as for his being one of the greatest and most magnificent lords that had lived in Italy since the days of the Emperor Frederick II. This person had determined to make a most sumptuous feast at Verona, to which people began to flock from all parts, those especially of the best fashion ; when, on a sudden, whatever was the cause, he altered his mind, and making such as came some little amends for their trouble, he sent them away. One person only remained unsatisfied, whose name was Bergamino, of incredible wit and parts, who was still in hopes that things would at length turn out to his advantage. But M. Cane della Scala (having been made to understand, that whatever was given to him was entirely thrown away), neither spoke to, nor took the least notice of him. Berga- mino waited some days, and perceiving that no account was made of him, and finding his stock grew low with the expense of horses and servants at the inn, he became melancholy, yet resolved to wait longer, as not thinking it right to depart : and having brought three costly suits with him, which had been given him by other lords, for his more splendid appearance at this feast ; the landlord
FIRST DAY 27
beginning to grow importunate, he first pawned one, and staying a little longer, a second ; and he had now begun to live upon the credit of the last, resolving, when that was spent, to go away. In the meantime it happened that he met with M. Cane della Scala at dinner, where he presented himself before him with a sorrowful countenance ; which the other observing, out of mockery rather than to take any delight in what should come from him, he said : " How farest thou, Bergamino ? Thou seemest melancholy ; what is the reason?" Bergamino, without any premedi- tation, yet as if he had thought long upon the matter, made a proper reply in the following story : —
" You must understand, sir, that Primasso was a person well skilled in grammar, as well as a good and ready poet, by which means he became so famous, that though his person was not universally known, his fame and character were in every one's mouth. Now it came to pass, that being once at Paris in a poor condition, as his virtue met with no better fortune, being little encouraged by such as were the most able, he heard much talk of the abbot of Cligni, who, next to the pope, was reputed to be the richest prelate of the church : of him it was said, that he always kept a most grand and hospitable court, and all were entertained freely that came thither, provided it was whilst the abbot was at dinner. Primasso hearing this, and being desirous of seeing great and worthy persons, resolved to be a witness of the magni- ficence of this abbot. He inquired, therefore, how far he dwelt from Paris? Being answered, about six miles, he supposed that, if he set out early in the morning, he should be able to reach thither by dinner. Accordingly he asked the way ; and having nobody to keep him company, lest he should mistake the road, and so come to a place where no victuals could be had, he took three loaves with him, depending upon finding water enough, for a little served him, wherever he went. The loaves he put in his bosom, and he nicked his time so well, that he arrived at the abbots exactly at the hour of dining ; and entering into the great hall, and beholding the number of tables which were laid forth, and the vast preparations making in the
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THE DECAMERON
kitchens, and everything else getting ready for dinner, he said to himself, * This man is truly as generous as he has been always reported.' Whilst he was considering these things attentively the steward of the household ordered water to be brought, and they washed their hands, and sat down every one at his respective table. Now it happened that Primasso was placed facing the door where the abbot was to make his entrance. It was the custom in this court that neither wine, bread, nor any manner of food whatever, should be served to any of the tables, till the lord abbot himself was seated : whereupon the steward, having all things in readiness, acquainted his lord, that nothing now was wanting but his presence. The abbot ordered the door to be thrown open ; and, as he was entering the hall, the first person he chanced to cast his eyes upon, was Primasso ; who being a stranger, as to his person, and but meanly apparelled, an ungenerous, as well as an unusual thought came into his mind. 'Behold,' said he to him- self, 1 to whom I give my substance to be consumed ! ' And turning back, he ordered the door to be shut again, and inquired of the people within, whether they could give any account of that poor fellow, that sat over against the door : they all answered that they could not. Primasso, who had a kind of traveller's appetite, and had not been used to fast so long, seeing the abbot did not yet come, took one of the loaves out of his bosom, and began to devour it. The abbot, after he had waited a considerable time, sent one of his servants to see whether the fellow was gone : the servant brought word that he stayed, and was eating bread, which he seemed to have brought with him. ' Let him eat of his own/ replied the abbot, ' if he has it, for he shall taste none of mine to-day.' Gladly would the abbot have had him go away of himself, for he did not think it right to dismiss him. Primasso had now finished one loaf, and finding the abbot did not yet come, he began with the second, which was again reported to his lordship, who had sent to inquire as before. At length the abbot not coming, and Primasso having eaten up his second loaf, now attacked the third. When this news was carried to the abbot, he began to consider with
FIRST DAY 29
himself in this manner : * What strange fancy has possessed me to-day? What means this avarice, this scorn that I now show ? And who is it that I thus disdain ? For many years have I entertained all that would come, gentle or simple, poor or rich, and, as it has sometimes happened, the most paltry fellows imaginable ; yet never before did I grudge it to any, as I now do to this person : surely avarice should have no influence over me in the case of a poor man. For aught I know, he may be a most extraordinary person, mean as he appears, and how unwilling soever I have hitherto been to show him respect.' Having argued thus with himself, he would needs know who he was, and finding him to be Primasso, who was come only to behold lis grandeur ; and knowing him to be a learned and worthy person, he became quite ashamed, and was desirous of making amends for his behaviour to him, by showing him all possible respect. And having feasted him as much as he cared for, he ordered him to be sumptuously apparelled, and putting money into his pocket, he made him a pre- sent of a horse, and left him at full liberty either to stay with him, or to depart at pleasure ; wherewith Primasso, being highly satisfied, gave him his most hearty thanks, and returned to Paris on horseback, although he came thither on foot." M. Cane della Scala, who was a man of good understanding, without any further explanation, easily understood what Bergamino meant to say, and, smiling upon him, replied : " Well have you set forth your necessities and virtue, as well as my avarice ; and truly I never found myself so overpowered with that vice, as now in your case : but I will banish it from me with the same correction that you have taught me." So he ordered his landlord to be paid his full charges, put on Bergamino a suit of his best clothes, gave him money in his pocket, and a good horse to ride on, and left it to his own choice whether to depart, or stay there with him.
3°
THE DECAMERON
NOVEL VIII
Guliclmo Borstere, by a few smart words, checks the miserable covetousness of M. Ermino de' Grimaldi,
Lauretta, who sat next to Philostratus, hearing them commend Bergamino's wit and; perseverance, and knowing that it was now her turn, without waiting for any command, commenced in this manner : —
The last story puts me in mind how a courtier of wit reproached, to good purpose, the covetousness of a certain rich merchant ; which, although it may resemble the other, will not be the less agreeable, as it tended to as good an end.
There lived, not long since, at Genoa, a gentleman named Signior Ermino de' Grimaldi, who, as was generally believed, surpassed all the people of Italy in estate and wealth ; and, as no person in Italy could equal him in riches, so neither was there in the whole world one like him for greediness and sordid avarice. For, so far was he from being a friend to others, that he even denied himself common necessaries ; contrary to the custom of the Genoese, who delight to dress and live well. On which occasion he had lost his true name of Grimaldi, and was now known by no other than that of Ermino Avarice.
It came to pass, that, whilst by spending nothing, he went on accumulating wealth, there came to Genoa, a well- bred and witty gentleman called Gulielmo Borsiere, one nothing like the courtiers of the present day ; who, to the great reproach of the debauched dispositions of such as would now be reputed fine gentlemen, should more properly style themselves asses, brought up amidst the filthiness and sink of mankind, rather than in courts. And as, in former days, they spent their time in making up differences between gentlemen, or in bringing about alliances by marriage, affinity, or friendship ; and would divert themselves, and those about them, with facetious and witty repartees, and at the same time, like kind fathers, reprove and lash such
FIRST DAY 31
as deserved it, although with little recompense : these upstarts of the present age employ their whole life in speaking ill of, and sowing dissensions among, their neigh- bours, reporting scandals and lies, and this in the presence of any one, upbraiding him with injuries, shame and de- famation, true or not true, upon the least occasion ; till by their false and deceitful flatteries, they bring gentlemen at last to everything that is vile and wicked. And him we see most caressed by his untoward masters, who uses the most wicked expressions and commits the vilest actions, to the eternal shame of the present world, and a demonstra- tion that virtue is gone from among us, and hath left us wallowing in the sink of debauchery. But to return from whence I have been led by a just resentment farther than I intended. This Gulielmo, whom I before mentioned, was much visited and respected by the better sort of people at Genoa ; when having made some stay here, and hearing much talk of Ermino's sordidness, he became desirous of seeing him. Now Ermino had been informed of Gulielmo's worthy character, and having, however covetous he was, some small sparks of gentility, he received him in a courteous manner, and entering into discourse together, he took him, and some Genoese who came along with him, to see a fine house which he had lately built : and when he had showed every part of it, he said : " Pray, sir, can you, who have heard and seen so much, tell me of something that was never yet seen, to have painted in my hall ? " To whom Gulielmo, hearing him speak so simply, replied, " Sir, I can tell you of nothing which has never yet been seen, that I know of ; unless it be sneezing, or some thing of that sort ; but if you please, I can tell you of a thing which, I believe, you never saw." Said Ermino (little expecting such an answer as he received), "I beg you would let me know what that is. Gulielmo immediately replied, "Paint Liberality." When Ermino heard this, such a sudden shame seized him, as quite changed his temper from what it had hitherto been, and he said, " Sir, I will have her painted in such a manner, that neither you, nor any one else, shall be able to say, hereafter, that I am unacquainted with her." And from that time, such effect
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had Gulielmo's words upon him, he became the most liberal and courteous gentleman, and was the most re- spected, both by strangers and his own citizens, of any in Genoa.
NOVEL IX
The King of Cyprus was so much affected by the words of a gentlewoman of Gascogne, that from being a vicious prince he became very virtuous.
The queen's last command rested on Eliza, who, without waiting for it, began in this manner : —
It often happens that much pains have been taken, and many reproofs spent, in vain upon a person when some- times a word thrown in by chance, and without any such design, has done the business ; which appears plainly from the novel recited by Lauretta; and I purpose, also, in a very short story, to demonstrate the same. A good thing said may often be of service, and ought to be regarded, whoever the person is that reports it.
During the reign of the first King of Cyprus, after the conquest of the Holy Land, by Godfrey of Boulogne, it happened that a gentlewoman of Gascogne went on a pilgrimage to visit the holy sepulchre, and, on her return home, being arrived at Cyprus, she was ill-treated by a parcel of villains, and making her complaint without re- ceiving any redress, she resolved at length to go to the king; but she was told, that she would only lose her labour, for he was so careless in every respect, and so little of a man, that, far from avenging the injuries done to others, he suffered an infinite number of the most shameful affronts offered to himself; insomuch that whoever were offended at him might vent their resentment at any time in the most opprobrious language. Which, when she had heard, entirely despairing of redress, she yet proposed some comfort to herself in her calamity, to upbraid him for his meanness of spirit ; and coming all in tears before him, she said, " My lord, I appear in your presence not expecting to be revenged for the injuries I have sustained : but this small satisfaction I entreat, that you would tell me how you
FIRST DAY
33
can bear those which I hear are committed towards your- self, that I may from thence be instructed patiently to bear my own ; which, God knows, were it in my power, I would willingly consign to you, since you endure them so well." The king, who till that hour had been dull and inactive, as if he had been roused from a long sleep, began with avenging that lady's wrongs in the strictest manner, and from that time forward was most zealous in the punishment of every one who dared to do anything contrary to the honour of his crown.
NOVEL X
Master Albert of Bologna puts a lady to the blush, who thought to have done as much to him, because she perceived him to be amorously inclined towards her*
After Eliza had finished, the last charge remained to the queen ; who, in the most becoming manner, began as follows : — -
Most virtuous ladies, as the stars when the sky is clear are the ornament of heaven, and as flowers in the spring are the beauty of meadows ; in like sort is an easy manner of speaking, and a facetious and pleasant discourse, set off and embellished by choice and elegant expressions, which by being short, are better suited to women than men, inso- much as many words, when fewer would serve the purpose, are most disagreeable in the former. For there are few women now who understand anything that is smart and witty when they hear it ; or, if they do understand, scarcely know how to make a reply ; which is much to the disgrace of our sex. For that virtue which adorned the minds of women in former times, is passed in our days into the ornaments of the body; and she whose habit is most gaudy, and set off with embroideries and fantastic ornaments, is most esteemed ; not considering that, were you to load an ass with that finery, it would be able to carry more than any one of them ; and, therefore, in that particular, they deserve not so much respect as the ass. I am ashamed
B
34 THE DECAMERON
to mention these things, because, whilst I censure other women, I am taxing myself. Such showy .painted things, what are they else but statues, dull and insensible; or if they answer a question, they had better have been silent. Truly, they would have you think, that their not knowing how to converse with men of sense proceeds from their simplicity, and purity of mind, and therefore they call their own foolishness by the name of modesty ; as if there were no other honest woman but she who converses with her chambermaid, laundress, or kitchen-woman ; and as if nature designed them no other kind of conversation. Most sure it is, that in this, as well as in other things, you are to consider when, where, and with whom, you speak ; for sometimes it happens, that a man or woman, intending by some jest or other to put a person to the blush, without having compared their strength of wit with that of the other person, may find it recoil upon themselves. Therefore, that we may be always upon our guard, and not verify the proverb which is in every one's mouth, that women always choose the worst, I desire that this day's last novel, which is to come from myself, may make us all wise, to the end that as we are distinguished from others by birth and quality, we may not be behind them in discreetness of behaviour.
It is not long since a famous physician was living at Bologna (and perhaps may be so still), of extraordinary note in his profession, called Master Albert, one of so sprightly a disposition, though he was seventy years old, that notwithstanding his natural heat and vigour had quite forsaken him, yet disdained he not to receive the sparks of love. For having seen, at an entertainment, a most beauti- ful lady, a widow, called, as some say, Madam Malgherida de' Ghisoiieri, he was no less smitten than if he had been a younger person : nor could he rest at nights, unless he had seen the fair by day. This made him pass backwards and forwards, sometimes on foot, and sometimes on horseback, so often by the door, that she, and some other ladies of her acquaintance, could not help taking notice of it ; and would often make themselves merry to see a person of his years and learning so ridiculously amorous ; supposing love
FIRST DAY 35
to be a passion peculiar to young people. Master Albert, continuing his marches to and fro by the house, it happened on a festival, that this lady was sitting at the door with some of her friends, and seeing him come at a distance, they all agreed to receive him handsomely, and afterwards to rally him on the affair of his love. Therefore, they rose up and invited him into a pleasant room, where he was entertained with rich wine and sweetmeats ; and at length they began to inquire of him, as modestly as possible, how he could ever think of being in love with so fine a lady, seeing how much she had been solicited by many brisk, gay young gentlemen. Master Albert, perceiving that they had drawn him in among them, only to make a jest of him, put a merry countenance on the matter, and replied : " Madam, it should seem no strange thing to any con- siderate person, that I am in love, especially with you, because you so well deserve it. And though the power be taken away by age, yet is the will remaining, as also the judgment to distinguish those who are most worthy our affection ; and this in a greater degree, as age has more knowledge than youth. The hope that prompted me, who am old, to love you, who are courted by so many younger persons, is this; I have often, at an afternoon's collation, observed ladies eating lupines and leeks, and though in the leek there be no goodness at all, yet is the head the least hurtful, as well as the most agreeable to the taste : but you, guided by a wrong appetite, will generally hold the head between your fingers, and eat the stalk, which is not only good for nothing, but has also a bad relish. Suppose, therefore, you choose a lover in the same manner; I shall be the happy person, and the rest of your lovers all dis- carded."
The lady was in some confusion, as well as her com- panions; and she said to him, "Sir, you have given us a very just and reasonable reprimand : I shall always value your respect, as being a learned and worthy person ; and you may ever, as far as is consistent with my honour, command me." Master Albert arose, gave the ladies thanks, took his leave very merrily, and departed. Thus she, never considering whom she jested with, met with
36 THE DECAMERON
her match; of which, if you are wise, you will hereafter be careful.
The sun was now descending in the west, and the heat of the day much abated, when the novels were all ended \ upon which the queen pleasantly said, " Nothing more remains to be done during my administration for the present day but to give you a new queen to-morrow, who must take her turn, according to the best of her judgment, in ordering everything that may be necessary for the continuance of our mirth. And though the day ought to continue till it is night, yet, unless you take time a little beforehand, you cannot so well provide for what is to come ; and, that there may be time enough to prepare whatever the queen shall think proper for the next day, I think the following days ought to begin at this hour. In regard then to Him by whom all things live, and for our own well-doing, I appoint Philomena to be queen the second day." And when she had thus spoken, she arose from her seat, and having taken the crown from her own head, she reverently placed it on Philomena's, humbly saluting her first herself, and after- wards the rest of the company did the same, submitting themselves cheerfully to her government. — Philomena saw herself crowned with a gentle blush ; and calling to mind what Pampinea had just now said, that she might not seem remiss in her duty, she confirmed all the officers which Pampinea had appointed ; then she ordered the morrow's provision, as also the supper, so near approach- ing (they being to continue there), and afterwards spoke in this manner :—
" My dear friends, although Pampinea, more through her own courtesy than any merit of mine, has made me your queen, yet am I not disposed to follow my own judgment as to our manner of living, but rather to join my opinion with yours ; and, therefore, that you may know what I intend to do, and so alter it at your pleasure, I shall declare it in few words. If I have well considered the method that has been taken to-day, it seems agreeable enough, and till we either grow weary, or find it inconvenient, I resolve not to change it. Hold-
FIRST DAY 37
ing on, then, as we have begun, we will rise and divert ourselves awhile by walking, and when the sun is down we will sup in the open air, and after we have had some songs and other diversions, it will be time to go to bed : to-morrow morning, whilst it is cool and pleasant, we will rise and take a walk where we like best, and return, as we have done to-day, about dinner-time, and dance ; and, after reposing ourselves as before, come here again to continue our novels, which to me seems full as enter- taining as it may be useful. There are some things, indeed, which Pampinea could not accomplish, by reason of her late promotion, which I propose to perfect ; namely, to keep you within the bounds of some particular subject, to which your novels are all to relate, and which is to be given you beforehand, that you may have time to think of some pretty story to the purpose; which, if you please, shall be this : — As from the beginning of the world, people have been all along conducted by fortune through the various chances of life, and will be so to the end of it, you are all of you to relate a case where a person, after going through a variety of troubles, beyond all ho|;e and expectation, at last meets with success." They all approved the order that was given, and determined to obey it ; Dioneus only excepted, who, after the rest were silent, said : " Madam, I approve your order, as the rest have done, and think it both pleasant and commendable ; but one special favour I beg may be granted me, whilst this company continues together, namely, not to let me be constrained by the law you have made, to relate a story according to the given theme, unless I please, but that I may choose something I like better. And that you may not think that I request this as if I were unfurnished with discourses of this kind, I am content to be the last in every day's exercise." The queen, knowing him to be a merry companion, and well considering that he would not have moved this request, but with a design to make the com- pany laugh, when they were weary of any particular subject, agreed to what he desired, with the consent of them all. They now arose, and went to a crystal stream, which fell from a little hill into a vale shaded with trees, where,
38 THE DECAMERON
washing both their hands and their feet, much mirth passed among them, till supper drawing near, made them return to the palace. When that was over, the queen ordered the musical instruments to be brought, and that Lauretta should begin a dance, Emilia singing to her, and Dioneus playing upon the lute ; with which Lauretta immediately complied, and Emilia sung the following song in a very fascinating manner.
SONG i
With my own charms so blest am I,
Each other passion I defy ;
For ever as I gaze, and find
That good which still contents the mind \
Nor former flame, nor future love,
The dear enjoyment can remove.
II
Nor does the good I thus possess Become by long admiring less ; No — greater far's the joy I feel, Than heart can think, or tongue rev<?a| : How great it is, they only know, Who long have sweetly languish'd so*
III
And I (the more I fix my eyes, And feel the pleasing passion rise) Each thought direct, and wish confine, To make the promis'd blessing mine, And hope ere long a greater joy : Where is the nymph so blest as I ?
The song being ended, in which they all joined, though the words occasioned some speculation ; and after a few other little sonnets, a good part of the night being now spent, the queen thought proper to put an end to the first day ; lights being consequently called for, she ordered every one to their respective chambers, to repose them- selves till the next morning.
THE SECOND DAY
Already had the sun ushered in the new day, the birds upon the blooming branches attesting it with their merry songs, when the ladies and gentlemen arose, and went into the garden ; where they spent some time in walking, and weaving chaplets of flowers ; and, as they had done the day before, after taking a repast in the open air, and danc- ing, they reposed themselves till the clock struck nine ; at which time they took their places, as the queen had ap- pointed, in the same pleasant meadow around her. She being of a most graceful person, and having on her a crown of laurel, looked round in a most cheerful manner on the whole assembly, and then signified to Neiphile that she should begin; who, without offering any excuse, spoke as follows : —
NOVEL I
Martellino, feigning himself to be a cripple, pretends to be cured by being laid upon the body of St, Arrigo ; but his roguery being dis- covered, he gets soundly beaten, and is afterwards apprehended, and in danger of being hanged, but at last escapes.
It often happens, that he who endeavours to ridicule other people, especially in things of a serious nature, becomes himself a jest, and frequently to his great cost ; as you will perceive by what, in obedience to the queen's command, I am now going to relate : an affair, which had a very un- lucky beginning, and which, beyond all expectation, ended happily enough to one of our city.
There lived, not long since, at Triers, a German, called Arrigo, who was a poor man, and served as a porter, when any one pleased to employ him ; yet was he reputed a
4o THE DECAMERON
person of a good life ; on which account (whether true or false I know not) it was affirmed by the people of Triers, that, at the very instant of his death, the bells of the great church rang of their own accord, which was accounted a miracle, and all declared that this Arrigo was a saint, and they flocked to the house were the corpse lay, and carried it as a sanctified body to the great church ; bringing thither the halt, lame, and blind, expecting that, by the touch of it, they would all recover. In so great a concourse ol people, it happened, that three of our own city arrived there, one of whom was named Stecchi, another Martellino, and the third Marchese ; persons that frequented the courts of princes, to divert theni as buffoons and mimics. None of these having ever been there before, and seeing the great crowd of people running from all parts of the city, they were much surprised at it ; and hearing the cause, were very desirous of seeing the corpse. They left their baggage, therefore, at the inn, and Marchese said, " We will see this saint; but I do not know how we shall contrive to get near enough, for the street is full of soldiers and persons in arms, whom the governor has stationed there, to prevent any tumult in the city : and besides, the church is so thronged with people, that it will be impossible to get in."
Martellino, who was eager to be a spectator, replied, " I will find a way, notwithstanding, to get close to the very body." — "How," said Marchese, "is that possible?" — " I'll tell you," answered Martellino : "I intend to counter- feit a cripple, whilst thou shalt support me on. one side, and Stecchi on the other, as if I were unable to walk by myself, bringing me towards the saint to be cured ; and you will see everybody make way for us to go on." They were much pleased with the contrivance, and went accordingly into a private place ; when Martellino distorted his hands, fingers, arms, legs, mouth, eyes, and his whole countenance besides, in such a manner, that it was frightful to behold him ; and nobody that saw him, but would have imagined that he was really so lame and deformed. Being carried in that guise by Marchese and Stecchi, they directed their way to the church, crying out in a most piteous manner all the way, to make room for God's sake ! to which the people
SECOND DAY
condescended. In a little time they attracted the ejies of every one, and the general cry was, " Room, room ! " till at length they came where the body of St. Arrigo lay ; when Martellino was taken from them by some persons that stood around, and laid all along upon the body, to the end he might, by that means, receive the benefit of a cure. All the people's eyes were now upon him, expecting the event ; when he, who was master of his business, first began to stretch his fingers, then his hands, afterwards his arms, and at last his whole body ; which, when the people saw, they set up such shouts in praise of St. Arrigo, that a clap of thunder would hardly have been distinguished. Now it happened that a Florentine was not far off, that knew Martellino very well (not whilst his body was distorted, but after his pretended cure), who fell a-laughing, and cried, u Good God ! who would not have taken him to have been really a cripple ? " Which some of the by-standers hear- ing, they immediately said, " And was he not so ? " — " No," answered the other, " as God is my judge, he was always as straight as any person here ; but he has the art, as you have now seen, of turning his body into what shape he pleases." There needed nothing further to set them all on fire ; they therefore pressed most violently on, crying out to seize the villain, that blasphemer of God and His saints, who being in no wise disordered comes here to make a jest of our saint and us. Whereupon they dragged him by the hair of the head, and threw him upon the ground, kicking him and tearing the clothes off his back ; nor was there a person there that did not endeavour to give him a blow ; whilst Martellino kept crying out for God's sake to have mercy ; but all to no purpose : for the blows thickened faster upon him. Marchese and Stecchi now began to be in some pain for themselves, and not daring to help him, they cried out with the multitude, " Kill him ! kill him ! " contriving all the time how to get him out of their hands : nevertheless he had certainly been murdered, but for the following ex- pedient. Marchese, knowing that the officers of justice were at the door, ran to the lieutenant that commanded, crying out, " Sir, help me, for God's sake ; here's a fellow that has picked my pocket of a hundred florins ; I beg you
B 2
42
THE DECAMERON
will assist me in getting them back again." And immedi- ately twelve of the sergeants ran where Martellino was in the utmost jeopardy, and with the greatest difficulty got him away, all trodden under foot and bruised as he was ; and carried him to the palace, followed by many of the people, who had been incensed against him ; and who now hearing that he was taken up for a cut-purse, and seeing no other way of revenging themselves, declared that they had also been robbed by him. On hearing these complaints, the judge, who was an ill-tempered man, took him aside and examined him ; whilst Martellino answered him in a jesting manner, making no account of their accusations. At which the judge being provoked, ordered him to be tied by the neck, and soundly lashed, that he might make him confess the crimes he was charged with, in order to hang him afterwards. He being therefore bound down to the ground, the judge asking him if those things with which he was accused were true; and telling him that it would be in vain to deny them : he then made answer and said, " My lord, I am ready to confess the truth ; but please to order first all my accusers to say when and where I robbed them, and I will then tell you truly what I am guilty of, and what not." The judge readily consented, and having summoned some of them before him, one said he had picked his pocket eight days ago ; another four days, and some made answer that he had robbed them that same day. Martellino replied, " My lord, they are liars ; for I had not been here many hours (and would to God I had never come at all !) before I went to view this saint, where I got abused as you now see. That this is true, the officer who keeps your book of presentations, as also my landlord, will testify for me : therefore I beg you would not torture and put me to death, at the instances of these people." When Marchese and Stecchi heard what passed before the judge, and that their friend was severely handled, they began to be in great fear about him, saying to themselves, that they had taken him out of the frying-pan, to throw him into the fire : and they ran from place to place, to find out their landlord, whom they acquainted with what had happened : he, laugh- ing heartily at their story, carried them to one Alexander
SECOND DAY
Agolanti, a person of great interest in the city, to whom they related the whole affair, entreating him to have pity on poor Martellino. Alexander, after much laughter, went to the governor of the town, and prevailed upon him to have Martellino brought into his presence. The messenger that went for him, found him standing before the judge in his shirt, all terrified, because he would hear nothing in his favour (having an aversion perhaps to our country people), and being probably resolved to hang him at all events : and he refused, till he was compelled, to deliver him up- Martellino being brought before the governor, told him everything that happened ; and entreated him, as a special favour, that he would let him go, saying, that till he came to Florence, he should always think he had the rope about his neck. The governor was highly diverted with the relation ; and ordering every one a suit of apparel, beyond all their hopes they escaped from the most imminent danger, and got safe and sound home.
NOVEL II
Rinaldo cTAsti having been robbed^ comes to Castel Gulielmo, where he is entertained by a widow lady, makes good his losst and returns safe home.
The ladies all laughed immoderately at Martellino's adven- ture, as did the gentlemen likewise, but more especiallj Philostratus, who, as he sat next to Neiphile, was ordered by the queen to begin his novel ; and he immediately complied as follows : —
I am going to relate a story, consisting partly of misfor tune, and partly of love, which may be of use to such as walk in love's uncertain paths ; in which it happens to those who have not said the Pater Noster of St. Julian, that they often get a bad night's rest, though they lie in a good bed.
In the time of Azzo, marquis of Ferraro, a certain merchant, named Rinaldo d'Asti, came to Bologna to transact some affairs of his own ; which being done, and he on his return home, it chanced, as he came out of Ferrara,
44 THE DECAMERON
and was riding towards Verona, that he fell in with some persons, who seemed to be merchants also, but were in reality highwaymen, and unguardedly joined them. They, finding him to be a merchant, and supposing therefore that he must have money about him, resolved as soon as an opportunity offered, to rob him ; and, that he should have no suspicion, they rode on discoursing with him like persons of reputation and character, showing themselves extremely complaisant and courteous, insomuch, that he thought himself happy in meeting with such good company, as he was alone, and had only one servant. Talking of various things, they began at last to speak of prayers, and one of the rogues, there being three in number, turned towards Rinaldo, and said, " And pray, sir, what sort of prayer do you use when you are upon a journey ? " — " In good truth," answered Rinaldo, " I know little of those matters, and am master of very few prayers ; but I live in an old-fashioned way, and can tell that twelve pence make a shilling ; never- theless, I always use, when I am upon a journey, before I go out of my inn, to say one Pater Noster and one Ave Maria for the souls of the father and mother of St. Julian, and after that I pray to God and St. Julian to send me a good lodging at night : and let me tell you, sir, very often have I met with great dangers upon the road, from all which I still escaped, and when night drew on I always came to a good lodging ; which favour I firmly believe St. Julian, to whose honour I speak it, hath obtained of God for me ; nor do I think I should ever travel securely, or succeed in my lodging at night, were I to forget this prayer."
" Then," said the other, " to be sure you offered up that prayer this morning ? "
" Most certainly I did," answered Rinaldo. Said the rogue to himself, having determined how to handle him, " Thou wilt have need enough of it ; for, if I mistake not, thy lodging is like to be none of the best ;" and afterwards he added, " I have travelled much myself, yet did I never say that prayer, though I have heard it often commended, and I have always fared well, and now this night shall you see which of us will get the better lodging ; I must own, however, that instead of it I have used the dirupisti^ or the
SECOND DAY 45
intemerata, or the de profundis^ which, as my grandmother was wont to tell me, are of singular virtue."
Thus they travelled along, discoursing upon many sub- jects, and waiting for a fit time and place to put their wicked purpose in execution ; when at length it happened, that the time, growing late, and the place private, being at the ford of a river near Castel Gulielmo, they made their assault, and robbed and stripped him to the shirt ; and leaving him there on foot they said to him, " Go, see if thy St. Julian will provide as good a lodging for thee to-night, as we shall have : " so, passing the river, away they went. The servant, like a rascal as he was, seeing his master attacked, rode away without offering the least assistance, and never stopped till he came to Castel Gulielmo ; where, it being late when he got in, without giving himself any further trouble, he took up his lodging. Rinaldo remained there in his shirt, without shoes or stockings ; the weather extremely cold, and snowing incessantly ; not knowing what to do, the dark night coming on apace, and he all over in a tremble, with his teeth chattering for cold, now began to look round for shelter where he might continue that night, for fear of being starved to death ; but seeing none (the whole country being laid waste by the late war), and being forced away by the cold, he trudged on towards Castel Gulielmo, not knowing whether his servant was gone thither or elsewhere, but supposing, if he got admittance, that he should meet with relief. But before he came within a mile of the town, it grew quite dark ; and it was so late when he got thither, that finding the gates locked, and the bridge drawn up, he could obtain no entrance. Grieving much at this, and now quite discouraged, he looked about to see if he could find a cover from the snow : when by chance he spied a house hanging a little way over the walls of the castle ; under which he proposed to stand all night, and then to depart ; there he found a door in the wall, but fast locked ; and gathering some straw together which was lying about, he sat down thereon, all pensive and sad, and making loud complaints to St. Julian ; telling him, this was not according to the confidence he had always reposed in him. But St. Julian, who had a regard for him, soon
46 THE DECAMERON
provided a better lodging. There was a widow lady in that castle, of great beauty, whom the Marquis Azzo loved as his life, and kept in that house under which Rinaldo had taken shelter. That very day the marquis was to come to stay all night with her ; she having secretly provided a bath for him, and a most elegant supper. Everything being now ready, and only the marquis's company wanting, an express arrived with dispatches, which required him to take horse instantly : he therefore sent to the lady to excuse him, and posted away ; at which she was much concerned, and not knowing how to pass her time, resolved to go her- self into the bath which she had provided for the marquis, and then to sup and go to bed. Now it happened, that the bath was near to the door where poor Rinaldo was sitting y so that she being therein, heard all his complaints and shiverings : whereupon she called her maid, and ordered her to look over the wall at the door threshold, and inquire who that person was there, and what he wanted. She went, and by the clearness of the sky could just discern Rinaldo sitting in the manner before described ; and having demanded of him who he was, he made answer as well as he could, trembling all the while so much that she could scarcely understand him, telling her how he came thither, and entreating her not to let him perish with cold. The girl was moved to compassion, and returning to her mistress, related the whole story, who had pity on him likewise ; and recollecting that she had the key of the door, which served for the private admission of the marquis sometimes, she said, " Go and open the door gently : we have victuals enough, and nobody to sit down, and we may also spare him a lodging." The maid commended her great charity, and having opened the door and found him almost frozen to death, she said, " Make haste, good man, and get thee into this bath, which yet is warm ; " with which he immedi- ately complied, without waiting for any farther invitation : and he found himself so much refreshed by the warmth of it, that he seemed restored from death to life. Then the lady sent him some clothes, which had been her husband's, and which fitted him as well in all respects, as if they had been made for him. Expecting her further commands, he
SECOND DAY 47
began to thank God and St. Julian, who had delivered him from the prospect of a most terrible night, and brought him at last, where he was like to meet with good entertainment. The lady, having now reposed herself a little, ordered a great fire to be made in the hall, and coming thither, she inquired concerning the honest man, what sort of a person he was ? To whom the maid replied, " Madam, now he is clothed, he seems to be a good handsome man, and well behaved." — " Go then," said she, " and call him, and bid him come to the fire, and he may also sup with me, for I fear he has had but a sorry supper." When Rinaldo came into the hall, and saw the lady, who appeared to him to be a woman of consequence, he made her the most profound reverence, showing all possible acknowledgments for the favours he had received. And the lady, finding him to answer the character she had received of him from her maid, made him sit down freely by the fireside with her ; and inquired concerning the misfortunes which had brought him thither, of which he gave her a faithful account, and obtained her easy credit, she having heard something of the servant's coming thither before : she then told him what she knew of the matter, and how the fellow was to be met with in the morning. Supper being now served up, they washed their hands, and sat down together. He was tall in person, and agreeable enough both in countenance and behaviour, and a middle-aged man : she often, therefore, cast her eye upon him, and finding him to suit her fancy, as soon as supper was ended, advised with her maid whether she might not fairly (since the marquis had put such a slight upon her) make use of the opportunity which fortune had thrown in her way. The girl, who knew how to please her mistress, readily concurred. The lady now returned to the fire, where she had left Rinaldo by himself, and looking pleasantly at him, she said, " Why so thoughtful, sir ? does the loss of your horse and a few clothes affect you so much ? Comfort yourself ; you are in my house ; and I can tell you farther, that, seeing you in my husband's clothes, I could not help thinking, several times to-night, that he himself was present, and I was going more than once to have saluted you." Rinaldo was too great a connoisseur in love-
48
THE DECAMERON
matters not to take her meaning. The affair, therefore, was soon agreed, and to bed they went, and, in the morning, to prevent the least suspicion, she gave him some old clothes, and rilled his pocket with money, begging of hirn to keep it secret ; and having directed him where to find his servant, she let him out at the same door he came in at. He therefore, as soon as it was broad day, entered into the castle as if he had come a great way off, where he found the fellow, and soon clothed himself out of his portmanteau ; and as he was going to mount his man's horse, by great fortune, it happened that the three rogues, who had robbed him the day before, were taken up on some other account, and brought into the castle : when by their own confession, he got his horse, clothes, and money returned to him, and lost nothing but a pair of garters, which they knew not what was become of. Rinaldo now thanked God and St. Julian, and, mounting his horse, arrived safe at his own house, and the very next day the three villains were exhibited in public, dancing on nothing.
NOVEL III
Three young gentlemen lavish away their fortunes, and a nephew of theirs returning home in as desperate a condition, falls in com- pany with an Abbot, whom he afterwards found to be the King oj England's daughter, who marries him, and makes good his uncles' losses, resettling them in their former prosperity.
All admired the adventures of Rinaldo d'Asti, and com- mended his devotion, giving thanks to God and St. Julian who had succoured him in his great necessity. Nor was the lady blamed (though they did not care to speak out) for making use of the opportunity that offered : whilst they were laughing at these things, Pampinea, finding that she was to speak next, after a little considering what she was to say, and receiving the queen's command, began at last in this manner : —
The more we speak of the acts of fortune, so much the more, to such as consider them attentively, there remains
SECOND DAY 49
to be spoken : which none need wonder at, who consider that all things, which we foolishly call our own, are in her power ; and that she blindly wills them from one to another incessantly, and without any rule or method that can be discovered by us. Which, though it be showed every day in everything, and has also been enlarged upon in some former novels, nevertheless, as the queen is pleased that this should be our present subject, I shall add a story to what has been said already, which I think you will not dislike.
There dwelt, formerly, in our city, a knight named Tebaldo, who, as some report, was of the family of the Lamberti ; though others say he belonged to the Agolanti : but be that as it will, he was the most wealthy knight of all that lived in his time, and had three sons ; the eldest was called Lamberto, the second Tebaldo, and the third Ago- lante, all courteous and genteel young persons ; though the eldest was not above eighteen when their father died, leaving them in possession of his vast wealth ; who, finding themselves so rich, and having nobody to control them, began to spend apace, by keeping vast numbers of servants, and fine horses, and dogs, and hawks, with open house for all comers, making continual tilts and tournaments, and sparing no diversions that belong to gentlemen ; indulging themselves besides in every youthful lust and passion. They had not led this life long, before their riches began to waste, and their rents not being sufficient to defray their current expenses, they mortgaged and sold first one estate, and then another ; so that they saw themselves coming to nothing, and then poverty opened their eyes, which had been hitherto kept shut. One day, therefore, Lamberto called his two brothers together, and set forth to them the great repute in which their father had lived, and the wealth he had left them, and how much they were now impover- ished, through their inordinate expenses ; advising them, in the best manner he was able, that, before matters grew worse, they should sell the little that was left, and retire from that quarter. His advice was followed ; and, without taking any leave, or making the least stir, they left Flor- ence, and went directly for England. Coming to London,
5o THE DECAMERON
they took a little house, and lived as frugally as possible, letting out money at interest. And fortune was so kind to them, that in a few years they got a great deal of money : by which means, it happened, that first one and then another returned to Florence, where they recovered back a great part of their estates, and purchased others to them, and got married ; and keeping on their banking trade still in England, they sent a nephew thither, whose name was Alessandro, to manage their business. The three brothers, therefore, continued at Florence ; and, forgetting to what misery they had been reduced by their former extravagance, and notwithstanding they all had families, began to spend immoderately, having large credit from the merchants. Their expenses were supported for some years by returns from Alessandro, who had let out money to the barons upon their castles, and other estates, which turned to good account. Whilst the three brothers continued spending in this manner, and borrowing whenever they stood in need, having their whole dependence upon returns from England, contrary to every one's expectation, a war broke out there between the king and his son, which divided the whole kingdom, some taking part with one, and some with the other ; on which account, the barons' castles, which were in Alessandro's possession, were seized on, and nothing now was left him that turned to any profit : but living in hopes of peace every day, and then that he should have both principal and interest, Alessandro still continued in the kingdom, whilst the three brethren at Florence abated nothing of their extravagance, but continued borrowing more daily. And no money coming for some years, as was expected, they lost all their credit, and people being desir- ous of getting what was their due, their effects were seized, which not being found sufficient, they were thrown into prison for the remainder, and their wives and children dispersed up and down the country, in a most distressed condition, with no prospect but of misery for the rest of their lives. Alessandro, after waiting some years, and find- ing no likelihood of peace in England, but that he continued there to no purpose, and in danger of his life, resolved for Italy; and he set out by himself; and as he was going out
SECOND DAY 51
of Bruges, he overtook a young abbot, clothed in white, attended with a great equipage : two ancient knights fol- lowed, related to the king. These Alessandro joined ; and having made himself known to them, was well received.
Travelling together, he modestly inquired who those monks were that rode before, with such a retinue, and whither they were going ? When one of the knights made answer, and said, " He that rides first is a young gentleman, a relation of ours, who is lately made abbot of one of the richest abbeys in England; and, because he is younger than is required by the law for such a dignity, we are going to Rome to entreat our holy father to dispense with his want of years : but this is to be a secret." The new abbot riding sometimes before his company, and sometimes behind (as is usual with persons on the road), got sight at last of Alessandro, who was a graceful, well-behaved young gentleman, and was so taken with him at the very first view, that he never saw any one he liked better : and having called him aside, he inquired who he was, whence he came, and whither he was going. Alessandro answered him very ingenuously, and, at the same time, made him an offer of his little service. The abbot was much pleased with his modest and pretty manner both of speaking and behaviour ; find- ing, though his business was mean, that he was a gentleman. And being full of compassion for his losses, he began to comfort him in a friendly manner, bidding him to be of good courage, for if he were a worthy man, God might exalt him to a higher pitch than that from which fortune had cast him down ; and desired him, as he was going towards Tuscany, to make one in his company, because he was likewise travelling thither. Alessandro returned thanks for the encouragement he had given him, and said, he was entirely at his service. The abbot riding on (having got some new fancies in his head, since the sight of Alessandro) chanced, after some days7 travelling, to come to a country village, which afforded but bad accommodation; and, because the abbot had a mind to lie there, Alessandro made him alight at the house of a person with whom he was acquainted, and provided him a bed in the least in- commodious part of the house. And being now become
52 THE DECAMERON
steward of the household, as it were, to the abbot, he , disposed of the company in different parts of the town, in the most convenient manner he was able. And after the abbot had supped, it being now midnight, and every one gone to rest, Alessandrp then inquired of the landlord where he was to lie. Who made answer, " In good truth, sir, you see my house is quite full, so that I and my family must be forced to sleep on benches ; yet there are some ' granaries in the abbot's chamber : I can carry a pallet-bed for you thither, and you may rest as well as you can." — > " But, landlord," quoth Alessandro, " how can I be in the abbot's chamber, it being so small that there is no room i for any of his monks ? If I had thought of it before the curtains were drawn, the monks should have lain in the granaries, and I would have gone where the monks are." Said the host, " The case is this ; you may lie there, if you please, as well as anywhere in the world : the abbot is asleep, and his curtains drawn ; I can convey a little bed thither softly, and you may rest very comfortably." Ales- sandro, finding that it might be done without disturbing the abbot, consented, and accommodated himself there with as little noise as possible.
The abbot, whom his love kept awake, heard what passed between Alessandro and his landlord; and finding that Alessandro was there, he began to reason with himself in this manner : " I have now a fit opportunity to compass my desires ; if I let this pass, the like may never offer again." Resolving therefore to make use of it, and supposing that all was quiet in the house, he called, with a low voice, " Alessandro ! " and bade him come and lie down by him : who, after many excuses, undressed himself, and went to his bed. The abbot now laid his hand upon the other's breast, as a lover would do ; which Alessandro was much surprised at, and began to fear that he had some bad design ; which, as soon as the abbot perceived, he could not help smiling ; and having laid his bosom bare, he took Alessandro's hand and put it upon it, saying, " Be not afraid : convince yourself of what I am." Alessandro laid his hand there, and found two breasts smooth and delicate like polished ivory, which convinced him that it was a
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woman : and he was going to have been more familiar ; when she interrupted him, saying, " Before you come nearer to me, observe what I am going to say : I am a woman, and not a man, as you see, and was now travelling to the pope, for him to dispose of me in marriage : but whether it be your good fortune or my unhappiness, since I first saw you, the other day, I could not forbear loving you, and I assure you, no woman ever loved a man better than I do you : I therefore am determined to marry you in pre- ference to any other person ; and if you will not accept of me, go from whence you came." Though she was unknown to Alessandro, yet, when he considered the company that was with her, he supposed she must be a lady of distinction, and her person he saw was beautiful ; therefore, without much consideration, he declared, that if she was willing, he should be highly pleased. She then rose up in bed, and turning towards a crucifix that stood upon the table, gave a ring into his hand, and made him espouse her. The next morning they proceeded on their journey to Rome ; and in a day or two she, with the two knights and Ales- sandro, were introduced to his holiness, and, after the proper ceremony was over, she addressed herself to him in this manner : " Holy father, you know better than anybody that they who desire to live honestly and well should avoid, as much as in them lies, all occasions which may lead them to act otherwise. For which reason have I come away, with a great part of the treasure of my father, who is King of England, and was about to marry me, young as I am, to the King of Scotland, who is very old, to beg that your holiness would dispose of me in marriage. Nor was it the age of the King of Scotland that made me fly, so much as the fear of doing, through my frailty, was I married to him, what should be contrary both to the laws of God, and to the honour of our royal house. As I was coming with this intention, I accidentally beheld this young gentleman, whose merit and behaviour make him worthy of the greatest princess, although his family be less noble. Him have I chosen, nor will I think of any other, however it may seem to my father or any one else. The principal inducement then to this journey is removed : but I chose
54 THE DECAMERON
to proceed, that I might visit the holy places with which this city abounds, and also your holiness, to the end that the contract of marriage, made only in the presence of God, may be declared in yours, and so made public to the world : wherefore I humbly entreat your blessing, to make us more capable of pleasing Him, whose vicar you are, that we may live together to the honour of God and of you, and at length die so." Alessandro was greatly surprised, and overjoyed when he heard his wife was the King of England's daughter; but the knights were enraged beyond measure, and, had it not been in the pope's presence, they had certainly offered violence to Alessandro, and perhaps to the princess like- wise. On the other hand, the pope was in amaze, both at her dress and the choice she had made ; but seeing what was done could not be remedied, he was willing to satisfy her request ; and having comforted the two knights, whom he saw in confusion, and reconciled them to the lady and Alessandro, gave orders for what he would have done. And when the day appointed was come, he made the lady appear most royally dressed before all the cardinals, and other great personages, who had been invited to a most magnifi- cent feast, where she appeared so beautiful and courteous, that every one was charmed with her : in like manner was Alessandro richly apparelled ; in his aspect and behaviour being more like a prince than a person brought up to trade, and was much honoured by the two knights. The pope saw the marriage celebrated with all imaginable grandeur ; and, after receiving his benediction, they took their leave. Alessandro and his lady were desirous, when they left Rome, of seeing Florence, where fame had already carried the news of their marriage ; and they were received with the utmost respect. She immediately took the three brothers out of prison, paying all their debts, and settled them and their wives in their former estates. This gained them the goodwill of every one; and departing thence, they took Agolante with them, and came to Paris, where the king received them in a most honourable manner. From thence the two knights went to England, where they prevailed so far with the king, that he forgave his daughter, and received them with all possible demonstrations of joy, making his
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son-in-law a knight, and creating him Earl of Cornwall. Alessandro's behaviour and conduct were such, that he accommodated matters between father and son, which was of great service to the kingdom, and gained the love and esteem of every one. Agolante recovered all that was due to him, and returned to Florence immensely rich, being first knighted by Count Alessandro, who lived happily with his princess ; and it is reported that, through his prudence and valour, and the assistance of his father-in-law, he made a conquest of Scotland, and was crowned king thereof.
NOVEL IV
Landolpko Ruffoloy falling into poverty \ became a pirate, and was taken by the Genoese , and suffered shipwreck ; but saved himself upon a cask of jewels, and was taken out of the sea by a woman at Corfu, and afterwards returned home very rich.
Lauretta sat next to Pampinea, and finding her tale now brought to a fair conclusion, began thus : —
Most kind ladies, there is no greater act of fortune, in my opinion, than to see one of low condition arrive at princely dignity, as Pampinea has just now showed us in the case of Alessandro. And though it be necessary that whoever discourses on the subject proposed, should keep within the very same terms, yet shall I not scruple to relate a story, which notwithstanding it contained greater hard- ships than the former, had not so glorious an end. I am sensible that, in this respect, I shall be the less regarded ; but, as I am able to give you no better, I hope you will excuse me.
It is generally said, that the sea coast from Reggio to Gaeta is the pleasantest part of Italy ; that part of it near Salerno, which the inhabitants call the Coast of Malfi, is full of little towns, gardens, rivulets, as also rich people expert at merchandise ; amongst the rest there is a town called Ravello, in which were many wealthy persons, and one especially, called Landolpho RufTolo, who, not content with his great store, but willing to make it double, was near
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losing all he had, and himself also. This man, having settled his affairs, as other merchants are used to do, bought a large ship, and freighting it all on his own account, set sail for the island of Cyprus. He there found many ships laden with the same commodities, in regard to which it was necessary for him net only to make a quick mart of his goods, but he was also farther constrained, if he meant to dispose of them at all, to sell them for a trifle, to his great loss and almost ruin : grieving much thereat, nor knowing what to do, seeing that from great wealth he was reduced almost to poverty, he resolved either to die, or to repair his losses from other people, before he would return home poor, as he came from thence so rich. Meet- ing with a merchant, who bought his great ship of him, with the money made of that and his other merchandise, he purchased a light little vessel fit for a pirate, arming and furnishing it with everything proper for that purpose, intending to make other people's goods his own, and especially those of the Turks. And fortune was abundantly more favourable to him in this way of life, than she had been in merchandise ; for, in the space of a year, he took so many Turkish prizes, that he found he had not only got his own again, but made it more than double. Being now comforted for his former loss, and thinking he had enough, and for fear of a second disaster, he resolved to make the best of his way home with what he had acquired : and as he was still fearful of trade, he had no mind to employ any more Df his money that way, but set sail in the little vessel in which he had gained it. He was no sooner in the Archipelago, but night drew on, and a sirocco or great south-east wind arose, directly contrary to their intended course, which made such a sea, that the ship could not bear up against it, and they were glad to get into a bay under the cover of a little island, to wait for better weather. Landolpho had just entered the harbour when two Genoese ships came in from Constantinople to avoid the same storm : and as soon as the men in them saw the small bark, they blocked her up in the passage, and understand- ing whom she belonged to, and that the owner was known to be rich ; as men addicted to plunder and rapine, they
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resolved to make it their own prize ; landing some of their men, therefore, well armed with crossbows and other weapons, they possessed themselves of a station, to prevent any of the crew's issuing out of the bark, unless they ran the hazard of their lives, whilst the rest got into the long boat, and the sea being favourable, they soon boarded Landolpho's vessel, and took all his people, and everything in it, with- out the loss of a man, leaving him nothing but a waistcoat ; and after they had cleared the vessel, they sunk her. The day following, the wind being changed, they set sail, and had a good voyage all that day ; but night coming on, the wind became boisterous again, and the storm was such that the two ships were parted, whilst that wherein poor Landolpho was, drove with the utmost violence upon the coast of Cephalonia, and broke all to pieces. The poor wretches that were on board (the sea being covered with all sorts of merchandise, and with chests, tables, &c., as is common in such cases), notwithstanding it was dark, and the waves very great, endeavoured, such as were able to swim, to lay hold of such things as they saw floating. Amongst these was the unfortunate Landolpho, who, though he had wished for death a thousand times the day before, rather than to be carried home a beggar; now he saw death at hand, was sufficiently terrified, and got hold of a plank, like the rest, in hopes that, by delaying his fate, God would send him some means for his escape : and riding upon it as well as he could, being driven by the wind backwards and forwards, he supported himself till it was daylight, and then looking round him he could see nothing but clouds and water, and a chest driving towards him, which came so near him sometimes, that he was afraid it would dash against him ; when he would endeavour, with the little strength he had left, to put it by with his hand ; at length it happened that a great blast of wind sent it with such violence against the board whereon he was sitting, that it was overset, and he soused over head and ears in the water ; but rising again, and swimming more out of fear than any strength, he found himself at such a distance, that he was afraid he could not recover it ; getting therefore to the chest, which was nearer, he laid his breast
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upon it as well as he could, and put his arms round it, and in this manner was he carried up and down, eating nothing, because he had it not, and drinking more than he desired, without knowing where he was, or seeing anything but water for a day and a night. The next morning (whether it was through God, or the force of the winds) Landolpho, who was well nigh become a sponge, holding his arms strongly about the chest, as we often see people seize upon anything to avoid being drowned, drew near to the island of Corfu, where, by good fortune, a poor woman was scouring her dishes with salt water and sand, who, when she saw him approach, and not perceiving him to be of any shape or figure, cried out and retreated : as he was unable to speak, neither could he see much ; but, as the waves pleased, he was carried to the land, and then she could distinguish the shape of the chest ; and looking more narrowly, she saw an arm laid over it, and then a face, when she supposed how the case was ; and being moved by compassion, stepped a little way into the sea, which was now calm, and taking hold of the hair of his head, drew both him and the chest to land, and with much trouble unfolded his arms from the chest, which she set upon her daughter's head who was with her; and she carried him like a little child to the town, and put him into a stove, and chafed and washed him with warm water, by which means the vital warmth began to return, and he got some strength. In due time she took him out of the stove, and comforted him with wine and good cordials, and kept him some days till he knew where he was; she then restored him his chest, and told him he might now provide for his departure. He, who remembered nothing about it, re- ceived it from the hands of the woman, as supposing it might serve for his expenses a small time, how little soever it was worth ; and finding it very light, was something dis- heartened ; however, as she was out of the way, he broke it open, and found a great quantity of jewels, both such as were set, and others, of which he had some judgment, and knowing their value, he was now thoroughly comforted, praising God for not having yet forsaken him ; but as he had been twice buffeted by fortune already, and being
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fearful of a third mishap, he judged that great caution was requisite to bring these things safe home ; he wrapped them up, therefore, in old rags, as well as he could, and told the woman that he had no further use for the chest, but that she might keep it if she would give him a sack in its stead, which she was very glad to do : and now return- ing her a thousand thanks, he departed with his sack upon his neck, and passed over in a bark to Brandizio, and so from one sea to another, till he came to Trani, where he met with merchants of his own town, who clothed him out of charity, after he had told them all that had happened to him, excepting that of the chest of jewels ; they also gave him a horse, and sent company with him to Ravello, whither he said he was resolved to return ; and finding himself there in safety, he thanked God for it : and now he inquired more narrowly into his sack than he had done before, and found so many valuable jewels, that, rating them at the lowest prices, he was twice as rich as when he left home. Finding means therefore to dispose of them, he sent a sum of money to the woman at Corfu, who had taken him out of the sea, and treated him so kindly ; and also to the merchants at Trani for clothing him ; and he lived handsomely upon the remainder (without having any more mind to trade) the rest of his life.
NOVEL V
AndreucciOy of Perugia^ coming to Naples to buy horses ', met with three remarkable accidents in one night ; from all which he escapes , and returns with a ruby of value.
The jewels found by Landolpho put me in mind, said Flammetta, whose turn it was now to speak, of a story which contains as many perils as the last, although it be different in this respect ; viz., that the first happened in the course of some years, whereas these fell out in the space of one night, as you shall hear. There lived, as I have heard, at Perugia, a young man named Andreuccio di Pietro, a dealer in horses, who, hearing of a good market *t Naples, put five hundred florins of gold into his purse ;
6o
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and, having never been from home before, went with some other dealers, and arrived thither on a Sunday in the evening : and, according to the instruction he had received from his landlord, he went into the market next morning, where he saw many horses to his mind ; cheapening their price as he went up and down, without coming to any bargain. But to show people that he came with an intent to buy, he unadvisedly pulled out his purse on all occasions ; insomuch, that a certain Sicilian damsel (who was at every one's service for a small matter) got a sight of it, as she was passing along, without being observed by him : and she said to herself, " Who is there that would be my betters, if that purse were mine?" and passed on. Along with her wa? an old woman, of Sicily likewise, who, as soon as she saw Andreuccio, ran to embrace him ; which the young woman observing, without saying a word, stepped aside to wait for her. He immediately knew her, to her great joy, and without much discourse there, she having promised to come to his inn, he went on about his business, but bought nothing all that morning. The young woman taking notice first of the purse, and then of the old woman's knowledge of him, and contriving how to come at all or part of the money, began to inquire of her, as cau- tiously as might be, if she knew who that man was, or whence he came, or what was his business, and also how she happened to know him : which she answered in every particular as fully as he himself could have done, having lived a long time with his father in Sicily, and afterwards at Perugia ; telling her also the cause of his coming thither, and when he was to return. Thinking herself now suffi- ciently instructed, both concerning his kindred, and their names, she grounded her scheme upon it in the most artful manner possible ; and going home, she sent the old woman out upon business for the whole day, to hinder her return- ing to him ; and in the meantime, toward the evening, she dispatched a young woman, well-trained for such services, to his lodgings, who found him, by chance, sitting alone at the door, and inquiring of him whether he knew such a person, he made answer, that he was the man : upon which she took him a little aside, and said, " Sir, a gentle-
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61
woman of this city would gladly speak with you, if you please." On hearing this, he began to consider the matter , and, as she seemed to be a creditable girl, he held it for granted that the lady must be in love with him ; thinking himself as handsome a man as any in Naples : he answered, therefore, that he was ready, and demanded where and when the lady would speak with him. The girl replied, " She expects you at her own house as soon as it is agree- able to you."
Without saying a word then to the people of the inn, he bade her show him the way ; and she brought him to her house, in a certain street famous for such sort of guests : but he, knowing nothing of the matter, nor at all suspect- ing, but that he was visiting a place of repute, and a lady that had taken a fancy to him, went into the house, and going upstairs (whilst the girl called aloud to her mistress, telling her that Andreuccio was there), found her at the top waiting for him. She was young and beautiful enough, and very well dressed. Seeing him appear, therefore, she ran down two or three steps with open arms to meet him ; and taking him about the neck, she stood some time with- out speaking a word, as if prevented by her over-great tenderness ; at last, shedding abundance of tears, and kissing him over and over, she said (her words being interrupted as it were with transport), " O my Andreuccio ! you are heartily welcome." He (quite astonished at being caressed in such a manner) replied, " Madam, I am proud of the honour to wait upon you." She then took him by the hand, and led him, without saying a word more, through a large dining-room into her own chamber, which was perfumed with roses, orange-flowers, and other costly odours, where was also a fine bed, and other rich furniture, far beyond what he had ever seen before, which convinced him that she was some great lady : and sitting down together upon a couch at the bed's foot she addressed herself to him in this manner: "Andreuccio, I am very sure you must be under great astonishment both at my tears and embraces, as being unacquainted with me, and perhaps never having heard of me before : but you will now hear what will surprise you more, namely, that I am your sister :
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THE DECAMERON
and I assure you, that since God has indulged me with the sight of one of my brethren, as I wished to have seen them all, I could die contented this very moment : if you be unacquainted with the particulars of my story, I will relate them. Pietro, my father and yours, as I suppose you must know, lived a long time at Palermo, where he was much respected for his behaviour and good-nature (and may be so still) by all that knew him. Amongst others that liked him on that account was my mother, a widow lady ; who, notwithstanding the regard due to her father and brothers, as well as to her own honour, cohabited with him, till at length I was born, and am now what you see. Having occasion afterwards to retire from Palermo, and to return to Perugia, he left me there an infant, with my mother, and from that time, as far as I can learn, took no more notice either of me or her ; which, were he not my father, I could blame him for; considering what ingratitude he showed to my mother, to omit the love he owed to me his child, begotten of no vile prostitute, who, out of her abundant love, had put herself and all her wealth into his hands, without having any farther knowledge of him. But to what purpose? Ill actions, done so long since, are easier blamed than amended : yet so it was ; he left me, as I said, at Palermo, an infant, where, when I grew up, my mother, who was rich, married me to one of the family of the Gergenti ; who, out of regard to me and her, came and lived at Palermo, where, falling into the faction of the Guelphs, and having begun to treat with our King Charles, he was discovered by Frederick, King of Arragon, before his scheme could take effect, and forced to fly from Sicily, at a time when I expected to have been the greatest lady in the island. Taking away what few effects we were able (I call them few, with regard to the abundance we were possessed of), and leaving our estates and palaces behind us, we came at length to this place, where we found King Charles so grateful, that he has made up to us, in part, the losses we had sustained on his account, giving us lands and houses, and paying my husband, and your kinsman, a pension besides, as you will hereafter see: thus live I here, where, thanks be to Heaven, and not to you, my
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dearest brother, I now see you." Which when she had said, she wept and embraced him again.
Andreuccio hearing this fable so orderly, so artfully composed, and related without the least faltering or hesita- tion ; remembering, also, that his father had lived at Palermo, and knowing, by his own experience, how prone young fellows are to love; beholding too her tears and affectionate caresses, he took all she had said for granted ; and when she had done speaking, he made answer and said, "Madam, it should not seem strange to you that I am surprised : for, in truth (whether it was that my father, for reasons best known to himself, never mentioned you nor your mother at any time ; or, if he did, that I have forgot it), I have no more knowledge of you, than if you had never been born. And it is the more pleasing to me to find a sister here, as I the less expected it, and am also alone : nor is there any man, of what quality soever who would not value you ; much more, therefore, shall I, who am but a mean trader. But one thing I beg you would clear up to me, viz., How came you to know that I was here ? " When she replied in this manner :
" A poor woman, whom I often employ, told me so ; for she lived, as she informed me, with our father a considerable time, both at Palermo and Perugia ; and were it not that it appeared more reputable that you should come to me at my house, than I go to you at another person's, I had come directly to you." She then inquired of him particularly, and by name, how all their relations did ? To all which he answered her fully ; believing more firmly, when there was the more reason for suspicion. Their discourse lasting a long time, and the season being sultry, she ordered, in Greek, wine and sweetmeats for him ; and he making an offer afterwards to depart, because it was supper-time, she would by no means suffer it ; but seeming to be under great concern, she embraced him, and said, "Alas! now I plainly see how little, account you make of me; that, being with a sister whom you never saw before, and in her house, which you should always make your home, you should yet think of going to sup at an inn. Indeed you shall sup with me ; and though my
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husband be abroad, which I am much concerned at, 1 know, as a woman, how to pay you some little respect." He, not knowing what answer to make, said, " I love you as much as it is possible for me to love a sister; but it will be wrong not to go, because they will expect me to supper all the evening." She immediately replied, "We have a present remedy for that, I will send one of my people to tell them not to expect you : but you would favour me more, and do as you ought, if you would send to invite your company hither to supper, and after- wards, if you chose to go, you might all of you depart together." He said, he should not trouble her that evening with his companions, but she might dispose of him as she pleased. She now made a pretence of sending to his inn, to tell them not to expect him to supper; and after much other discourse, they sat down, and were elegantly served with a variety of dishes, which she con- trived to last till it was dark night, and rising then from table, he offered to go away ; but she declared, that she would by no means suffer it, for Naples was not a place to walk in when it was dark, especially for a stranger : and as she had sent to the inn concerning his supping with her, so had she done the like about his bed. He believing this to be true, and glad also of being with her, was easily prevailed upon. After supper, their discourse lasted a long time, being lengthened out on purpose ; and as it was now midnight, she left him in her own chamber to take his repose, with a boy to wait upon him ; and she, with her companions, retired into another room. It was sultry hot, on which account Andreuccio, seeing himself alone, st ripped into his doublet, and pulling off his breeches, he laid them under his bolster, and having occasion to retire, he asked the boy to show him a conveniency; who pointed to a corner of the room where there was a door and desired him to enter it. He went in without the least suspicion, and setting his foot upon a board, which not being nailed at the other end to the rafter on which it was laid, straight flew up, and down they went together.
Heaven was so merciful to him, however, he got no harm, though it was a great height, but was grievously
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daubed with the filth, of which the place was full. Now, that you may better understand this, and what followed also, I shall describe the place to you. In a straight alley (as you see often between two houses), on some tracings reaching from one to the other, were some boards laid, I and a place to sit upon, and it was one of these boards I that fell down with him. Finding himself now at the bottom, he called in great distress to the boy ; but he, the moment he heard him fall, ran to tell his mistress, who hastened to his chamber, to see if his clothes were there, and finding both them and the money, which he, out of a foolish mistrust, always carried about him (and for the sake of which she had laid this snare, pretending to have been of Palermo, and the sister of this Perugian), she took no further care, but made the door fast, out of which he passed, when he fell. Finding the boy made no answer, he called out louder, but to no purpose ; and now perceiv- ing the trick, when it was too late, he climbed up the. wall which parted that place from the street, and getting down from thence, he came again to the door, which he knew full well ; there did he knock and call in vain for a long time ; lamenting much, and seeing plainly his calamity ; "Alas! (quoth he) in how little a time have I lost five hundred florins, and a sister besides ! "
And using many other words, he now began to batter the door, and to call out aloud ; and he continued doing so till he roused many of the neighbours, and, among the rest, one of the women where he had been, pretending to be half asleep, opened the casement, and called out, "Who makes that noise there?"
" Oh ! " cried he, " don't you know me, I am Andreuccio, brother to Madam Fiordaliso ; " when she replied, " Prithee, honest fellow, if thou hast had too much liquor, get thee to bed, and come to-morrow. I know nothing of Andreuccio, nor what thy idle tale means ; but go about thy business (I say once again) and let us rest."—" What ! (said he), don't you know what I say ? You know well enough, if you will : but if our Sicilian relationship </