Curiously, Boccaccio does not intend with this story to give praise to Judaism or to acknowledge it as an equal religion compared to Christianity. Abraham at the end accepts baptism and turns into a highly virtuous, even ‘holy’ man. There is virtually no example of any Christian ever converting to Judaism in the literature of the pre-modern world, and Boccaccio’s Decameron is no exception to this rule. However, the narrator presents rather amazing images of the Jewish communities in Paris and Rome. They enjoy liberty and a good social, economic, and political standing at both places. Abraham and Jehannot are good friends and would have maintained their friendship even if the former had not converted to Christianity.
Abraham emerges as a wise, honorable, virtuous, and politically smart individual. He is greatly respected both by the Christians and by his co-religionists. He freely moves around in both religious worlds and judges on his own the situation in Rome. But there is also a difference within the Christian Church insofar as the Holy See is described in most horrible terms, whereas the situation in Paris seems to be quite different. After all, Jehannot is a devout Christian and sincerely concerned for the well being of his friend’s soul. Abraham receives baptism and excellent teaching about Christianity from worthy clerics, but he is never said later to have condemned Judaism or to have turned to persecuting Jews after his conversion, which was the case a number of times in the Middle Ages and the early modern age, such as in the case of famous Petrus Alfonsi (eleventh to twelfth century) in Spain or Johannes Pfefferkorn (1469–1523) in Germany.17
Clearly, Boccaccio intended to ridicule the situation in Rome and to portray the clergy there in the worst possible terms. At the same time, with Abraham, a truly biblical name of great significance, he presents a most worthy figure who deserves our respect, if not even admiration, because he combines wisdom with intelligence, devotion with learnedness, and reaches profound insights about the real conditions of the members of the Holy See. He is not indoctrinated to his original faith and happily converts when it seems reasonable to him. In other words, he turns into a Christian after he has drawn the relevant consequences. Most significantly, the entire story is predicated on the friendship between those two merchants. As much as Jehannot tries to convert Abraham to Christianity, they both enjoy a mutually respectful relationship and treat each other as equals. Even though the Christian faith is eventually identified as the only true one, at least for those two men, the narrator does not drop any negative comments about Judaism, whereas he harshly condemns the Holy See and its representatives.
The term ‘tolerance’ would be not fully applicable here because of Abraham’s conversion at the end, which specifies that the Christian faith is the only true one, after all. The Jew’s soul would be saved only if he leaves his old faith, as Jehannot insists constantly. But we can certainly use this tale as an extraordinary example of medieval or early modern toleration insofar as these two merchants enjoy each other’s company, share the same values, demonstrate the same level of virtues, and treat each other most respectfully.
In fact, nothing would have changed in their relationship, as we may assume from the entire narrative framework and the internal plot development, even if Abraham had taken the observations he made in Rome as evidence for the total hypocrisy of the entire Christian Church, therefore rejecting the Christian faith as well. He is said to be wise enough, however, to look beyond the behavior of those ecclesiastics and to comprehend the deeper wisdom of the Holy Spirit because he knows how to distinguish between the external conditions and the deeper truth hidden behind the external mask. In short, Boccaccio projects here a noble character who knows the teachings of his own faith very well, but who is intelligent and flexible enough to grow beyond his own upbringing, to learn, and to adjust, after careful considerations of the alternative.
Abraham’s friend, Jehannot, is also a sympathetic character, but he only serves as a catalyst to profile the most positive, virtually ideal protagonist, the wise Jew who appears to understand the Christian messages even better, at least more deeply, than his Christian friend, not to speak of the despicable clergy in Rome. To be sure, the exchange of friendship, as presented in this tale, strongly supports the idea of toleration, if not also tolerance. This confirms many of our previous observations concerning the open-minded relationship between friends of different faiths.
Decameron I/3
From here, we can turn to the truly famous third story of the first day, in which we find the remarkable parable of the three rings. I have already discussed the essential components of this story when I examined the play Nathan der Weise (Nathan the Wise) by Gotthold Ephraim Lessing in the introductory chapter. But there are differences to Lessing’s major source, Boccaccio’s narrative, which hence deserves to be examined in more detail, especially because here we can identify the most significant literary manifestation of the emerging discourse of toleration, if not tolerance, already in the pre-modern world.18
The third story told on the first day is delivered by Filomena, who wants to highlight her protagonist’s heroic actions in a dangerous situation, which would also allow her to move away from specifically theological issues—the opposite is then actually the case—and to alert her audience to be more circumspect in answering questions. Wisdom, intelligence, and smartness are hence the real topic of her story. Yet, Boccaccio then makes her examine the fundamentals of all religions, the quest for truth, and the relativity of all our spiritual ideals. In fact, Filomena pursues the same agenda as Neifile, making a Jew her protagonist once again, but she claims that her impetus does not aim at the fundamental concerns of all religion; instead, her story is supposed to serve as a reminder of the effects of fortune, which can easily bring down the mighty and powerful as well.
Ignorance and foolishness easily lead the plain person astray, whereas the wise one would be able to avoid the dangers of misfortune and unhappiness. There are no words about toleration or tolerance, but those issues will emerge as the central points and lay the foundation for a more open-minded, inclusive perspective toward otherness, foreignness, and alterity in religious and philosophical terms. After all, the narrative framework is determined by ruminations on ethical and circumspect behavior and a philosophical mind well trained to cope with the vicissitudes of fortune.
Picking up on the old myth of the Sultan Saladin, we are told of a mighty and highly effective ruler in the Muslim world who has, however, overspent his resources and is in need of money. The narrator specifies that he had risen from a low status to the rank of the ruler of Egypt because of his competence and brilliance, and she has no hesitation to give Saladin the highest praise, irrespective of the religious difference. Myths work, after all, across all cultural boundaries and are highly useful for many different literary contexts.19 Saladin remembers a wealthy Jew, Melchisedech, who might be able to lend him enough money, if he were willing to do so, but the narrator identifies him immediately as too miserly to comply with such a request, although, as we would have to wonder, he thereby could have made a good profit through a high interest. We would rather have to assume, as is implied here, that the Jew would be reticent to loan his money out of fear that he might never receive it back, irrespective of the possible interest rate.
Significantly, the Sultan is disinclined to resort to force, and yet he desperately needs the money. So he conceives of a plan to extort the loan from Melchisedech, asks him to come to his court, where he inquires from him, whom he identifies as deeply wise and learned especially in divine matters, which religion (law) would be the true one. The Jew quickly realizes what trap this would be, so he suggests to tell Saladin a story first en lieu of answering him directly. This then is the starting point of the parable with the three rings. Just as we have already learned from Lessing’s play Nathan the Wise, a father has a most valuable ring that he bestows upon the one son whom he thus wants to designate as his heir, a sign of great honor and power, since all the other sons have to submit themselves under him.
On
e day, a father has three sons who all prove to be honorable, worthy, obedient, and noble, so the father cannot distinguish among them. The father loves those three sons so much that he promises the ring to each of them, that is, the authority to command over the entire heritage and family, but since there is only one ring, he has a goldsmith create perfect duplicates so that they all firmly believe to have received the great honor of being the bearer of the one and only true ring.
After the father’s death, each of the sons produces his ring, but no one can distinguish them, which already concludes this little tale but which also conveys the critical message as to what religion would be the true one. In the epimythion, we are told that the three rings represent the three religions and that God the Father loves his three sons equally. Consequently, as Melchisedech concludes, as little as those three rings could be distinguished, as little the question can be answered which of the three laws, or religions, would be the true one, an elegant response to a trick inquiry because religion constitutes an epistemological aporia that cannot be dissolved by way of rational, logical evidence.
The Sultan is smart enough to understand right away the message of the tale and abandons his strategy to extort money from the Jew, except that he now openly tells him about his need, and, furthermore, what he had planned on doing if Melchisedech had failed to respond appropriately, or had simply favored his own religion. The Jew responds in kind, grants the loan to the Sultan, which the latter repays him later in full, and both men end up enjoying an everlasting friendship. Saladin bestows many gifts upon him and grants him highest esteem, allowing him full access to him personally for the rest of their lives. Again, this bond of deep friendship facilitates, both here and in many other instances, the building of personal bridges between representatives of different religions,20 an approach to one of the most torturous issues in human lives that was already thematized by the famous chronicler of the first crusade, William of Tyre (see above).21
Significantly, Boccaccio presents two individuals with serious shortcomings at the beginning of the story. While the Jew is portrayed as a miser who would not even be willing to lend out his money, the Sultan appears as a despot who intends to extort the loan from the Jew by way of presenting him with a question that the latter could not answer without lying to him. But both men undergo a fast learning process and grow tremendously thereby. The Jew demonstrates his great wisdom by telling this story, and the Sultan proves open-minded enough to understand and learn the message, which he implements, in a way, by abandoning his plans of extortion and confessing openly his financial need. Saladin remains, of course, a benevolent monarch, since he does not abandon any of his power privileges, especially over the Jew. But Saladin later repays the credit and thus emerges as an honest trading partner who can be trusted and relied upon.
Even though this narrative does not include a person representing Christianity, the implied audience would have substituted for her/him. After all, Filomena and her friends certainly belong to the Christian faith and would have been shocked to learn that the Jew would have identified his religion as the only true one, or that the Sultan would have ordered Melchisedech’s execution. But this does not happen anyway. By contrast, once the Jew has completed his parable, the narrator has demonstrated how much respect we are supposed to feel for him, which the Sultan does in our place. Moreover, Sultan, as the representative of Islam, turns out to be intelligent, accommodating, liberal, and, most importantly, tolerant. The parable outlines in unmistakable terms that God loves all three of his sons equally and would never want to see one rule over the other. Boccaccio, thus, projects a condition in which the differences between the three religions is not lifted, but where the three sons are encouraged to compete with each other to achieve the highest respect, honor, and dignity. Being God’s son requires each of them to strive for His love and to gain all the worth possible. As the parable indicates, neither age nor learnedness, nor political power would privilege the one over the other. At the same time, we are also told through the parable that a rich man should not withhold his money as a loan to the ruler, that a ruler should accept the credit in honest terms and repay it in full, and that good communication and trust would be the best medium to facilitate a solid and working relationship among the various religions. Ultimately, the parable also underscores that God loves his three sons equally and does not make a distinction among them. Once the sons would learn that, all religious strife would come to an end and tolerance could assume its rule.
We have seen already in the introductory chapter how much Boccaccio influenced Lessing, and thus had a long-term impact on future generations to come. In a way, we might say, without this fourteenth-century parable, Lessing would not have been able to formulate his profound insights about tolerance among the religions in his play Nathan the Wise. In other words, the medieval and early modern discourse on toleration and tolerance must be recognized as a crucial stepping-stone for our own understanding and practice of tolerance.
Decameron X/9
In another most meaningful tale, especially in our context, Boccaccio probed the issue of tolerance once again, and this in the ninth tale of the tenth day, though there we face a very different configuration. The interest in Saladin as a worthy role model continues to be rather significant here as well, dominating the entire tale, although Boccaccio addressed a Christian audience and could not have assumed that Arabic readers/listeners might have learned about his collection of tales. In other words, through this account, the myth of the Sultan spread even further throughout late medieval Christendom, where he even became a role model as a benevolent ruler.22 As the storyteller Panfilo underscores, the account serves him to provide an example of how people can develop a good friendship, an ethical value of the highest caliber. Unfortunately, as he adds, most people would not be able to achieve that goal because of their lack of virtues and their being given over to vices. Nevertheless, in the literary discourse, it would be possible to outline examples of true friendship, as to be witnessed in the case of Saladin and his Italian friend, Messer Torello d’Istria da Pavia.23
At first, however, we are confronted with a military conflict between Muslims and Christians, insofar as the latter, under the leadership of Emperor Frederick I, are planning a new crusade to liberate the Holy Land. Saladin puts on a disguise to travel safely through Europe to find out the Christians’ military might, their preparations, and their planned strategies. He travels with only a very small group of trusted confidants and servants, pretending to be a pilgrim at first, then a merchant.24
One day, approaching Pavia, he encounters Messer Torello and inquires about whether they might reach that city before sunset. His Italian counterpart immediately recognizes in the stranger a noble individual and strategizes without any delay to invite him to his own estates, which he arranges through some cunning. Very much as in the case of Rudolf von Ems’s Der guote Gêrhart, the noble manners, the refineries of character, and the aristocratic appearance convinces Torello without delay that the stranger must be a worthy and honorable individual. This is good enough for him to invite him to his own place and to honor him thereby greatly.25 But he applies a ruse and rushes to his estate first, while the servant takes the foreign guests via some detours directly to his lord’s mansion. Torello had been afraid that the stranger would have declined his invitation, perhaps because of his superior social standing, but he wanted them to accept his hospitality under any circumstance, and achieves that goal as well, as Saladin acknowledges right away, actually giving him praise for his wit and honorable gesture. It might well have been, as Torello also adds, that there were no adequate accommodations from their meeting point to Pavia, but in reality, he intended to make those noble foreigners feel most welcome and invited in.
Since Saladin and his men speak Latin—probably meaning French, as was common in the Mediterranean, and as Rudolf von Ems in his romance had confirmed as well—there is no problem in their conversation, and everyone quickly acknowledges him
as the most educated, well-spoken, and intellectual person one could meet.26 Both the Sultan and Torello operate within the same cultural framework and understand each other apparently perfectly since they share their ethical, social, and other values. Religion is apparently not discussed, and no specific religious rituals or gestures are used, so Torello does not learn anything about the stranger’s cultural background, but he feels, like everyone else in their company, greatly attracted to this charming, cultured, and highly eloquent man.
As to their own identity, Saladin explains that they are Cypriot merchants on their way to Paris to do business, which was a common experience throughout the Middle Ages. This comment serves to explain the Sultan’s subtly Oriental appearance, in case there might be any suspicion, and it underscores that in the Middle Ages, many Europeans were accustomed to do business with merchants from the Eastern Mediterranean.27
Torello’s hospitality does not end there. The next morning he displays his dogs and falcons to the guests and then takes them personally to Pavia, where his wife Adalieta in the meantime has prepared a splendid welcome for the guests, honoring to the highest possible degree, although they do not know really who they are. What matters here is only that those strangers display noble, virtuous behavior, and hence they are treated in similar fashion, granting them the highest honor possible. In modern terms, there is no shred of xenophobia, whereas a person’s character, demeanor, appearance, and manner of speech are of paramount importance, irrespective of the origin.
Toleration and Tolerance in Medieval European Literature Page 20