Tales From the Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio

by Giovanni Boccaccio

  I am ashamed to say it, since in condemning others I condemn myself: but these over-dressed, heavily made-up, excessively ornamented females either stand around like marble statues in an attitude of dumb indifference, or else, on being asked a question, they give such stupid replies that they would have been far better advised to remain silent. And they delude themselves into thinking that their inability to converse in the company of gentlemen and ladies proceeds from their purity of mind. They give the name of honesty to their dull-wittedness, as though the only honest women are those who speak to no one except their maids, their washerwomen, or their pastrycooks. Whereas if, as they fondly imagine, this had been Nature’s intention, she would have devised some other means for restricting their prattle.

  In this as in other things one must, it is true, take account of the time and the place and the person with whom one is speaking. For it sometimes happens that men or women, thinking to make a person blush through uttering some little pleasantry, and having underestimated the other person’s powers, find the blush intended for their opponent recoiling upon themselves. Wherefore, in order that you may learn to be on your guard, and also in order that people should not associate you with the proverb commonly heard on everyone’s lips, namely that women are always worsted in any argument, I desire that the tale which it falls to me to relate, and which completes our storytelling for today, should be one which will make you conversant with these matters. Thus you will be able to show that you are different from other women, not only for the noble qualities of your minds, but also for the excellence of your manners.

  Not many years ago, there lived in Bologna a brilliant physician of almost universal renown, and perhaps he is alive to this day, whose name was Master Alberto.1 Although he was an old man approaching seventy, and the natural warmth had almost entirely departed from his body, his heart was so noble that he was not averse to welcoming the flames of love. One day, whilst attending a feast, he had seen a strikingly beautiful woman, a widow whose name, according to some accounts, was Malgherida de’ Ghisolieri. He was mightily attracted by the lady, and, no differently than if he had been in the prime of his youth, he felt those flames so keenly in his mature old breast, that he never seemed able to sleep at night, unless in the course of the day he had seen the fair lady’s fine and delectable features. Hence he began to pass regularly up and down in front of the lady’s house, sometimes on foot and sometimes on horseback, depending on his mood. And accordingly both she and several other ladies quickly divined his motive, and often jested with one another to see a man of such great age and wisdom caught in the toils of love. For the good ladies seemed to suppose that the delightful sensations of love could take root and thrive in no other place than the frivolous hearts of the young.

  Master Alberto continued to pass up and down, and one Sunday, whilst the lady happened to be seated outside her front door with a number of other ladies, they caught sight of him in the distance, coming in their direction. Whereupon they all resolved, with the lady’s agreement, to receive him and do him honour, and then make fun of him over this great passion of his. And that was precisely what they did. For they all stood up and invited him to accompany them into a cool walled garden, where they plied him with excellent wines and sweetmeats, and eventually they asked him, charmingly and with good grace, how it came about that he had fallen in love with this fair lady, when he was well aware that she was being courted by many a handsome, well-bred and sprightly young admirer. On hearing himself chided so politely, the doctor replied, smiling broadly:

  ‘My lady, the fact that I am enamoured should not excite the wonder of anyone who is wise, and especially not your own, because you are worthy of my love. For albeit old men are naturally deficient in the powers required for lovemaking, they do not necessarily lack a ready will, or a just appreciation of what should be loved. On the contrary, in this respect their longer experience gives them an advantage over the young. The hope which sustains an old man like myself in loving one who is loved, as you are, by many young men, is founded on what I have often observed in places where I have seen ladies eating lupines and leeks whilst taking a meal out of doors. For although no part of the leek is good, yet the part which is less objectionable and more pleasing to the palate is the root, which you ladies are generally drawn by some aberration of the appetite to hold in the hand while you eat the leaves, which are not only worthless, but have an unpleasant taste. How am I to know, my lady, whether you are not equally eccentric in choosing your lovers? For if this were so, I should be the one you would choose, and the others would be cast aside.’

  The gentlewoman, who along with the others was feeling somewhat abashed, replied:

  ‘Master Alberto, you.have given us a charming and very sound reproof for our presumptuousness. Your love is none the less precious to me, since it proceeds from so patently wise and excellent a man. And therefore, saving my honour, you are free to ask of me what you will, and regard it as yours.’

  The doctor stood up with his companions, thanked the lady, took his leave of her amid much laughter and merriment, and departed.

  Thus the lady, thinking she would score a victory, underestimated the object of her raillery and was herself defeated. And if you ladies are wise, you will guard against following her example.

  * * *

  Already the sun was dipping towards the west, and the heat of the day had largely abated, when the stories told by the seven young ladies and the three young men were found to be at an end. Accordingly their queen addressed them, in gracious tones, as follows:

  ‘For the present day, dear friends, my reign is complete except for giving you another queen, who shall decide for herself how her time and ours should be spent in seemly pleasures on the morrow. And albeit some little time still appears to be left until nightfall, I believe this to be the most suitable hour at which to begin all the days that ensue, since preparations can thus be made for whatever the new queen considers appropriate with regard to the following day. For we are unlikely to make proper provision for the future unless some thought is devoted beforehand to the matter. And therefore, with due reverence to the One who gives life to all things, and with an eye to our common good, I decree that on this coming day the queen who will govern our realm shall be Filomena, a young lady of excellent judgement.’

  Having spoken these words, she rose to her feet and removed her laurel garland, which she reverently placed upon Filomena; after which, first she herself, then all the other maidens, and the young men too, hailed Filomena as their queen and pledged themselves with good grace to her sovereignty.

  Filomena blushed a little for modesty on finding that she had been crowned as their queen. But recalling the words so recently uttered by Pampinea, and not wishing to appear obtuse, she plucked up courage, and first of all she confirmed the appointments made by Pampinea, and gave instructions as to what should be done for the following morning, as well as for supper that evening, due account being taken of the place in which they were staying. Then she began to address the company as follows:

  ‘Dearest companions, albeit Pampinea, more out of kindness of heart than for any merit of my own, has made me your queen, I do not intend, in shaping the manner in which we should comport ourselves, merely to follow my personal judgement, but rather to blend my judgement with yours. In order that you may know what I have in mind, and thus be at liberty to suggest additions or curtailments to my programme, I propose to expound it to you briefly. Unless I am mistaken, I would say that the formalities observed today by Pampinea were both laudable and pleasing. And so, until such time as we should find them wearisome, whether through constant repetition or for some other reason, I consider they ought to remain unaltered.

  ‘Having thus confirmed the procedure for the activities upon which we have now embarked, we can rise from this place, and go off in search of our amusement. And when the sun is about to set, we shall sup out of doors, and then we shall have a few songs and other entertainments, after whic
h it will be time to go to bed. Tomorrow morning we shall rise early, whilst it is yet cool, and once more we shall go off somewhere and engage in whatever pastime each of us may prefer. In due course we shall return, as we did today, in order to breakfast together. We shall then dance for a while, and when we have risen from our siesta, we shall return and resume our storytelling, from which I consider that a great deal of pleasure and of profit is derived.

  ‘I do however wish to initiate a practice which Pampinea, because she was elected late as our queen, was unable to introduce: namely, to restrict the matter of our storytelling1 within some fixed limit which will be defined for you in advance, so that each of us will have time to prepare a good story on the subject prescribed.

  ‘Ever since the world began, men have been subject to various tricks of Fortune, and it will ever be thus until the end. Let each of us, then, if you have no objection, make it our purpose to take as our theme those who after suffering a series of misfortunes are brought to a state of unexpected happiness.’

  This rule was commended by all the company, gentlemen and ladies alike, and they agreed to be bound by it. But Dioneo said, when the rest had finished talking:

  ‘My lady, like all the others, I too say that the rule you have given us is highly attractive and laudable. But I would ask you to grant me a special privilege, which I wish to have conferred upon me for as long as our company shall last, namely, that whenever I feel so inclined, I may be exempted from this law obliging us to conform to the subject agreed, and tell whatever story I please. But so that none shall think I desire this favour because I have but a poor supply of stories, I will say at once that I am willing always to be the last person to speak.’

  The queen, knowing what a jovial and entertaining fellow he was, and clearly perceiving that he was only asking this favour so that, if the company should grow weary of hearing people talk, he could enliven the proceedings with some story that would move them to laughter, cheerfully granted his request, having first obtained the consent of the others. She then stood up, and they all sauntered off towards a stream of crystal-clear water, which descended the side of a hill and flowed through the shade of a thickly wooded valley, its banks lined with smooth round stones and verdant grasses. On reaching the stream, they stepped barefoot and with naked arms into the water and began to engage in various games with each other. But when it was nearly time for supper, they made their way back to the house, and there they supped merrily together.

  After supper, instruments were sent for, and the queen decreed that a dance should begin, which Lauretta was to lead whilst Emilia was to sing a song, accompanied on the lute by Dioneo. No sooner did she hear the queen’s command than Lauretta promptly began to dance, and she was joined by the others, whilst Emilia sang the following song in amorous tones:

  ‘In mine own beauty take I such delight

  That to no other love could

  I My fond affections plight.

  ‘Since in my looking-glass each hour I spy

  Beauty enough to satisfy the mind,

  Why seek out past delights, or new ones try

  When all content within my glass I find?

  What other sight so pleasing to mine eyes

  Is there that I might see

  Which further I could prize?

  ‘My sweet reflection never fades away;

  My consolation ever is

  To see it every day.

  It lies beyond the tongue’s expressing

  To celebrate a joy so fine;

  None understands this bliss who has not burned

  With a delight like mine.

  ‘The longer I reflect upon those same

  Eyes that stare from mine own face back to me,

  The fiercer burns the flame.

  I yield it all my heart, it renders back

  All that I gave; I taste the bliss

  It promised me; and hope yet more to have.

  Ah, who has loved like this!’

  Albeit the words of this little song caused not a few to ponder its meaning, they all joined cheerfully in the choruses. When it was over, they danced and sang some other short pieces, and then, as the night was short and much of it already spent, the queen was pleased to bring the first day to an end. Having called for torches to be lit, she ordered her companions to retire to rest till the following morning, and this command, returning to their several rooms, they duly obeyed.

  Here ends the First Day of the Decameron

  SECOND DAY

  Here begins the Second Day, wherein, under the rule of Filomena, the discussion turns upon those who after suffering a series of misfortunes are brought to a state of unexpected happiness.

  The sun, having already ushered in the new day, was casting its light into every corner, and the birds singing gaily among the green boughs were announcing its presence to the ear, when the seven ladies and the three young men rose with one accord from their slumbers. Entering the gardens, they went from one part to another, and amused themselves for a long time by wandering unhurriedly over the dew-flecked lawns and weaving pretty garlands of flowers. And as they had done on the previous day, so they did on this. Having breakfasted in the open air, they danced a little and then retired to rest. Rising in the afternoon at about the hour of nones, as their queen had requested, they came to the little green meadow, where they seated themselves in a circle around her. She, looking most shapely and attractive, sat there with her laurel crown on her head, gazing in turn at each of her companions, and eventually she requested Neifile to open the day’s proceedings by telling the first story. Whereupon, without awaiting further encouragement, Neifile cheerfully began in the following manner:

  FIRST STORY

  Martellino, having pretended to be paralysed, gives the impression that he has been cured by being placed on the body of Saint Arrigo.1 When his deception is discovered, he is beaten, arrested, and very nearly hanged: but in the end he saves his skin.

  It has often happened, dearest ladies, that a man who has attempted to hold people up to ridicule, especially in matters worthy of reverence, has merely found himself humiliated, sometimes suffering injury into the bargain. Hence, in deference to the queen’s wishes, and by way of introduction to our theme, I propose in this story of mine to tell you what happened to a fellow citizen of ours who, after running into serious trouble, escaped far more lightly than he had anticipated.

  Not long ago there lived in Treviso a German, whose name was Arrigo. He was just a poor fellow who carried people’s heavy goods for hire, yet everyone regarded him as a man of honest and very saintly ways. Whether it is true or not I cannot say, but the Trevisans claim that when he died, all the bells of the cathedral in Treviso began to ring of their own accord. This was taken as a miracle, and everyone said that Arrigo must be a Saint. The whole of the populace therefore converged on the house in which his corpse was lying, and from there they conveyed it to the cathedral, treating it as though it were indeed the body of a Saint. People who were lame or blind or paralysed were taken to the church, along with others suffering from any kind of illness or infirmity, in the belief that they would all be cured by contact with Arrigo’s body.

  In the middle of all this turmoil, with people rushing hither and thither, three fellow citizens of ours, whose names were Stecchi, Martellino, and Marchese, happened to arrive in Treviso. These three used to do the rounds of the various courts, where they would entertain their audiences by putting on disguises and making all manner of gestures, by means of which they could impersonate anyone they pleased. They had never been to Treviso before, and were surprised to find so much commotion. But when they heard the reason, they immediately wanted to go and see for themselves. After calling at an inn, where they left their belongings, Marchese said:

  ‘We ought to go and inspect this Saint. But I can’t see how we are to reach him, because from what I have heard, the square is swarming with Germans,2 to say nothing of the armed men stationed there by the ruler to prevent distur
bances. And in any case, the church itself is said to be crammed with so many people, that it can hardly take another living soul.’

  ‘Don’t be put off by a little thing like that,’ said Martellino, who was eager to see what was going on. ‘I shall certainly find a way of reaching the Saint’s body.’

  ‘How?’ said Marchese.

  ‘Like this,’ Martellino replied. ‘I’ll disguise myself as a paralytic, and pretend I can’t walk. Then with you propping me up on one side and Stecchi on the other, you will both go along giving the impression that you’re taking me to be healed by the Saint. When they see us coming, everyone will step aside and let us through.’

  Marchese and Stecchi thought this a splendid idea, so all three of them promptly left the inn and went to a lonely spot, where Martellino contorted not only his hands, fingers, arms and legs, but also his mouth, his eyes and the whole of his face, becoming such a horrifying spectacle that no one would have taken him for anything other than a genuine case of hopeless and total bodily paralysis. In this state he was taken up by Marchese and Stecchi, and they headed for the church, with pity written all over their faces, humbly beseeching all those blocking their path to make way, for the love of God. They persuaded people to move without any trouble, and in brief, to the accompaniment of almost continuous cries of ‘Make way! Make way!’, and with all eyes turned in their direction, they arrived at the place where the body of Saint Arrigo was lying. There were some gentlemen standing round the body, and they quickly took hold of Martellino and laid him across it, so that it might help him regain the use of his limbs.