The Tale of Tales

by Giambattista Basile

  “But—before the Sun came out like the chief physician to examine the flowers that were ill and wilting—the guest got out of bed and slipped away, leaving the prince full of sweetness, pregnant with curiosity, and laden with marvel. By the time this trafficking had gone on for seven days, he was consumed by and melting with the desire to know what sort of good luck was raining down on him from the stars like this, and what sort of ship laden with Love’s sweetness was coming to anchor in his bed. And so one night when the lovely girl was sleeping, he tied one of her braids to his arm so that she could not slip away, and then called a servant; and when the candles had been lit, he saw the flower of all beauty, the marvel of all women, the mirror and painted egg of Venus,8 a beautiful little tidbit of Love. He saw a baby doll, a gleaming dove, a Fata Morgana,9a banner, a golden spike of wheat; he saw a stealer of hearts, a falcon’s eye, a full moon, a little pigeon face, a morsel fit for a king, a jewel; he saw, in short, an eye-popping spectacle.

  “Gazing at all of this, he said, ‘Now go jump in an oven, Cyprian goddess!10 Wrap a cord around your neck, O Helen!11 Go back where you came from, O Creusa and Fiorella,12 for your beauties are rags compared to this double-soled beauty, this complete, integral, seasoned, immense, well-built beauty! These are graces to be whistled at, graces that rival those of Seville,13 graces as loud as thunderbolts, first-rate, noble, lacking all defects and where there is no “z” to be found! O sleep; O sweet sleep, unload your poppies into the eyes of this lovely jewel, do not interrupt the pleasure of contemplating to my heart’s content this triumph of beauty! O lovely braid that binds me; O lovely eyes that warm me; O lovely lips that refresh me; O lovely breast that comforts me; O lovely hand that pierces me; where, oh where, in which workshop of Nature’s marvels14 was this living statue created? From which India came the gold to forge this hair? From which Ethiopia the ivory to construct this forehead? From which Maremma15 the carbuncles to set in these eyes? From which Tyre16 the crimson to stain17 this face? From which Orient the pearls to string these teeth? And from which mountains the snow to sprinkle on this breast—snow that betrays nature, that nourishes flowers and warms hearts?’

  “While he was saying this he wound his arms around her like a vine, so as to comfort her life,18 and as he squeezed her neck, she was freed from sleep and answered one of the enamored prince’s sighs with a pretty little yawn. When he saw that she was awake, he said to her, ‘O my precious, if I was already about to lose my senses when I saw this temple of Love without candles, what will be of my life now that you’ve lit two lamps in it? O lovely eyes, which with a triumph of light make the stars break the bank;19 you and only you have pierced a hole in this heart, and only you, like fresh eggs, can make a poultice of tow to treat it.20 My lovely doctor, be moved to pity for one so lovesick that the change of air from the dark of night to the light of this beauty has thrown him into a feverish state! Put your hand on this chest, take this pulse, write me a prescription! But why do I look for a prescription, my soul? Blow five bloodsuckers onto these lips with your lovely mouth! I want no other scrubbing down in this life than a caress from that dear little hand, for I’m certain that with the cordial water of your lovely grace and the root of that oxtongue, I will be free and healthy.’

  “At these words the lovely fairy grew red as a flame of fire, and answered, ‘Too much praise, lord prince. I am your servant, and to serve that face of a king I would go so far as to empty your chamber pot,21 and I consider it a great fortune that from a myrtle branch planted in a clay pot I have been transformed into a laurel bough hung on the tavern of a heart of flesh and blood, a heart that contains such greatness and such virtue.’ At these words the prince, melting away like a tallow candle, began to hug her again, and sealing his letter with a kiss he gave her his hand and said, ‘You have my word: you will be my wife, you will be the mistress of my scepter, you will have the key to this heart just as you hold the rudder of this life.’ And after these and a hundred other ceremonies and speeches, they got out of bed and checked to see that their intestines were healthy; and they followed this same routine for several days.

  “But since Fortune is a game wrecker and marriage breaker, and always an obstacle to Love’s footsteps, and a black dog that shits on the pleasures of those who love, it happened that the prince was called to hunt a great wild pig that was ravaging the town and had thus to leave his wife, or rather two-thirds of his heart. But since he loved her more than his own life and considered her more beautiful than all other beauteous things, from that love and that beauty sprung a third species of Love, which is a storm in the sea of amorous happiness, a shower on the laundry of Love’s joys, and soot that falls into the greasy soup22 of the pleasures of lovers; the sort of love, I mean, that is a serpent that bites and a woodworm that gnaws, bile that poisons, frost that numbs; the love because of which life always hangs by a thread, minds are always unstable, hearts always full of suspicions.23

  “And when he had called for the fairy, he said to her, ‘I am forced, my heart, to stay away from home for two or three nights; God knows the pain I feel at tearing myself away from you, my own soul. Only the heavens know if before I even begin to trot I will run my last leg, but since to content my father I cannot avoid going, I must leave you. Therefore I beg you, in the name of all the love you feel for me, to go back into your pot and not come out until I return, which will be as soon as possible.’ ‘That I will do,’ said the fairy, ‘because I do not know how, I do not want, nor am I able to object to what pleases you. Go, then, with the mother of good luck, for I am here at your side to serve you. But do me a favor: leave a little bell on a silk thread attached to the top of the myrtle, and when you come, pull the thread and ring the bell, and I’ll jump right out and say, “Here I am.”’

  “The prince did just that; indeed, he called a servant and said, ‘Come, come here, you; open up your ears and listen carefully: prepare this bed every evening, as if I were going to sleep in it myself, and keep this pot watered. But mind you: I’ve counted the branches, and if I find one missing, I’ll cut off your bread supply.’ That said, he got on his horse and left, like a sheep being taken to slaughter, to chase after a pig.

  “In the meantime seven women of vice who were kept by the prince, noticing that he had grown tepid and then cold in love and that he had given up working their fields, began to suspect that he had forgotten about his old friendship because of some new intrigue. And so, desirous of discovering the new land, they called a mason and with some good money got him to dig a tunnel that ran from under their house to the prince’s bedroom. Then those wicked hospital cases24 went in and looked around to see if a new resident, if another flirt had tricked them out of their hand and put a spell on their client. They opened the room, but found no one there, and when they saw the beautiful myrtle, each of them took a branch for herself; the youngest took the whole top of the plant, to which the bell was attached.

  “The bell, barely touched, rang, and, thinking it was the prince, the fairy immediately came out. But as soon as the whorish nags saw that resplendent thing, they lay their paws on her, saying, ‘You’re the one who draws the water of our hopes to your mill? You’re the one who took from our hands the lovely scraps of the prince’s grace? You’re that “madam Magnificence”25 who has taken possession of the tender flesh that belonged to us? May you be welcome! Go on, you’re on the draining board now!26 Oh, better if your mother had never shat you; go on, you’re all set! You’ve taken Vaiano!27 This time you’ve really bumped into it! If you get out of this one, then I wasn’t born in nine months!’ Saying this, they hurled a stick at her head and immediately broke her into a hundred pieces. Then each of them took her share; only the youngest didn’t want to have a hand in this cruel affair, and when she was invited by her sisters to do as they were doing, she wanted nothing more than a lock of that golden hair. When they were done, they cleared out, using the same tunnel.

  “Meanwhile the servant arrived to p
repare the bed and water the pot as his master had ordered, and when he found that fine disaster he had a fit and nearly died. Sinking his teeth into his hand, he picked up the bits of the flesh and bones that remained, and when he had scraped the blood off the floor, he piled everything back into the same pot, which he watered. He then prepared the bed, closed the door, locked it, and, putting the key under the door, took his old slippers far from that town.

  “But then the prince returned from the hunt and pulled the silk thread and rang the bell. Go on, ring; you might catch some quails!28 Ring; the bishop might pass by! He could have tolled that bell over and over; the fairy was taking no heed. And so he went straight to his bedroom and, not having the patience to call his servant and ask for the key, he gave the door a kick, sent it flying open, entered, opened the window, and, seeing the branchless pot, began to beat himself on the chest and lament, shouting, shrieking, bawling, ‘O bitter me; O desolate me; O miserable me; who has made me this beard of tow?29 Who has given me the low card in trionfo? O ruined, devastated, shattered prince! O my branchless myrtle; O my lost fairy; O my wretched life! O my delights, you have gone up in smoke; O my pleasures, you have gone sour! What will you do, unlucky Cola Marchione?30 What will you do, unhappy one? Jump this ditch! Get out of this trouble! All that is good has expired for you, and you don’t slit your throat? You’ve been relieved of every treasure, and you don’t cut your veins? You’ve been treated like shit by life, and you don’t beat it out of here? Where are you, where are you, my myrtle? And what sort of soul, harder than a bat’s, has ruined this lovely pot of mine? O accursed hunt, you have hunted every joy of mine to its death! Alas, I’m done for, I’m fried, I’ve been sent to my doom, I’ve ended my days; I can’t possibly attempt to survive in this life without my own dearest life; I’ll be forced to stretch out my legs for the last time, since without my darling sleep will be torture, food poison, pleasure constipation, and life a bitter fruit.’ The prince uttered these and other words fit to move the stones in the street, and after a long lament and a bitter dirge, full of anguish and fury, during which he never once closed his eyes to sleep nor opened his mouth to eat, he was so overcome by suffering that his face, which had once been of oriental minium,31 now became like orpiment,32 and the hams of his lips turned into rancid lard.

  “When the fairy, who had begun to sprout anew from the remains placed in the pot, saw how her poor lover was tearing out his hair and throwing himself around, and how he had become a little pinch of a thing the color of a sick Spaniard,33 a wormy lizard, cabbage juice, jaundice, a pear, the ass of a fig pecker, and a wolf’s fart, she was moved to compassion and sprung out of the pot like the light of a candle comes out of a blind lantern.34 She materialized before Cola Marchione and, squeezing him in her arms, said, ‘Come on, cheer up, my prince, no more, no more! End that lament, dry those eyes, leave your anger behind, relax that long face! Here I am, alive and beautiful in spite of those old birds who, after they broke my head open, did to my flesh what Typhon35 did to his poor brother!’

  “Seeing this when he least expected to, the prince came back to life, and as the color returned to his cheeks, the warmth to his blood, and the spirit to his breast, he gave her a thousand caresses and cuddles, smooches and squeezes,36 and then wanted to know from beginning to end everything that had happened. When he heard that the servant was not at fault he summoned him, and then ordered a grand banquet, and with the benevolent consent of his father he married the fairy. And after he invited all the most important lords of the kingdom, he made sure that above all the seven hags who had butchered that suckling calf would be present.

  “Once they had finished chewing, the prince asked each of his guests, one by one, ‘What would someone who harmed this lovely girl deserve?’ pointing to the fairy, who looked so beautiful that she pierced hearts like a missile, pulled souls to her like a winch, and dragged desire along like a sledge. Now then, everyone who was sitting at the table, starting with the king, had their say. One said that such a person would deserve the gallows; another that he would be worthy of the wheel; another, the pincers; another, to be thrown off a cliff; one mentioned this punishment and another that punishment. And then it was, finally, time for the seven grouper fish37 to speak. Although they didn’t like the tone of the conversation and were beginning to imagine the bad night ahead, nonetheless they answered—since truth always lies where wine has been plotting—that whoever had the courage even to touch that delectable morsel of Love’s pleasures would deserve to be buried alive inside a sewer pipe.

  “After this sentence was handed down from their own mouths, the prince said, ‘You have brought suit against yourselves, you have signed the warrant yourselves. All that remains is for me to carry out your order, since you are the ones who, with the heart of Nero and the cruelty of Medea,38 made an omelet out of this pretty little head and minced up these lovely limbs like meat for sausage. And so, quick, let’s go, let no time be wasted! Have them thrown this very minute into a sewer main, where they may end their lives in misery.’

  “This was effected at once, after which the prince married the youngest sister of those whores to his servant, giving her a good dowry, and also gave the myrtle’s mother and father enough to live on comfortably. He lived happily with the fairy, and the daughters of hell, concluding their lives in bitter torment, proved the truth of that proverb of the ancient sages: The lame goat gets by if it finds none who block it.”

  3

  PERUONTO*

  Third Entertainment of the First Day

  Peruonto, a tried and true wretch, goes to the woods to gather some kindling, shows kindness to three boys who are sleeping in the sun, and receives an enchantment. When he is made fun of by the king’s daughter he puts a curse on her, willing that she become pregnant by him, which happens. The king finds out that Peruonto is the father of the baby, puts him in a barrel with his wife and children, and throws it out to sea. But by virtue of the enchantment Peruonto frees himself from the dangerous situation and, after he turns into a handsome young man, becomes king.

  They all showed signs of having felt great pleasure at the consolation that the poor prince had received, and at the punishment delivered upon those wicked women. But since Meneca needed to continue the conversation, an end was put to the others’ chatter, and she began to tell of the fact that follows: “A good deed is never wasted; those who sow courtesy reap benefits, and those who plant kindness harvest affection. A favor granted to a grateful soul is never sterile, but generates gratitude and gives birth to rewards. One can find continual proof of this in the experiences of men; you will see one example in the tale that you are about to hear.

  “An illustrious woman of Casoria1 named Ceccarella had a son named Peruonto,2 who was the most dismal creature, the greatest yokel, and the most solemn idiot3 that Nature had ever created. On account of this his poor mother’s heart was blacker than an old rag, and a thousand times a day she cursed the knees4 that had held the door wide for a flycatcher who wasn’t worth his weight in dog sperm. But the unfortunate woman could scream and open her mouth all she liked; the good-for-nothing wouldn’t have gotten up from taking a shit to do her a damned service. Finally, after a thousand thunderous scoldings, a thousand juicy tirades, a thousand ‘I’m telling you’s’ and ‘I told you’s,’ and with a scream today and a shriek tomorrow, she sent him off to the woods for some kindling, saying, ‘It’s high time to choke on a morsel or two; run and get wood, don’t lose your way, and come right back, for we need to drag a few broccoli stalks in a bit of oil so that we can drag this life of ours a little farther along.’

  “That good-for-nothing Peruonto left like someone condemned to march between the Brothers of the White Justice;5 he left and he walked as if he were treading on eggs, at a magpie’s pace;6 he counted his steps, moving off oh so slowly, advancing little by little, creeping ahead, poking lazily along the road to the woods, like the crow that flies off never to return again. />
  “And when he was in the middle of a meadow where a river ran—chattering and murmuring about the scant discretion of the stones that blocked its way—he came across three boys who had made a little mattress out of grass and a pillow out of flint and were sleeping like butchered animals under the blazing heat of the sun, which tormented them with its perpendicular rays. When Peruonto saw those poor boys, who looked like a fountain of water in a furnace of fire, he felt compassion for them, and with the hatchet he was carrying he cut a few branches from an oak tree and made a lovely bower over them. In the meantime the young men, who were the sons of a fairy, woke up, and when they saw how kind and loving Peruonto was they rewarded him with an enchantment: he might have everything he could wish for.

  “After this, Peruonto set out on the road that led to the wood, where he gathered a bundle of kindling that was of such huge proportions that it would have taken a sledge to drag it along, and when he saw that trying to carry it on his back was a lost cause, he got on and straddled it, saying, ‘Oh my goodness, if this bundle of wood could only carry me, and trot like a horse!’ And lo and behold, the bundle of wood began ambling along like a purebred Bisignano horse,7 and when it reached the king’s palace it twirled and executed curvets in astonishing fashion.