--
Pietro di Vinciolo goes from home to sup: his wife brings a boy into the
house to bear her company: Pietro returns, and she hides her gallant
under a hen-coop: Pietro explains that in the house of Ercolano, with
whom he was to have supped, there was discovered a young man bestowed
there by Ercolano's wife: the lady thereupon censures Ercolano's wife:
but unluckily an ass treads on the fingers of the boy that is hidden
under the hen-coop, so that he cries for pain: Pietro runs to the place,
sees him, and apprehends the trick played on him by his wife, which
nevertheless he finally condones, for that he is not himself free from
blame.
--
When the queen had done speaking, and all had praised God that He had
worthily rewarded Federigo, Dioneo, who never waited to be bidden, thus
began:--I know not whether I am to term it a vice accidental and
superinduced by bad habits in us mortals, or whether it be a fault seated
in nature, that we are more prone to laugh at things dishonourable than
at good deeds, and that more especially when they concern not ourselves.
However, as the sole scope of all my efforts has been and still shall be
to dispel your melancholy, and in lieu thereof to minister to you
laughter and jollity; therefore, enamoured my damsels, albeit the ensuing
story is not altogether free from matter that is scarce seemly, yet, as
it may afford you pleasure, I shall not fail to relate it; premonishing
you my hearers, that you take it with the like discretion as when, going
into your gardens, you stretch forth your delicate hands and cull the
roses, leaving the thorns alone: which, being interpreted, means that you
will leave the caitiff husband to abide in sorry plight with his
dishonour, and will gaily laugh at the amorous wiles or his wife, and
commiserate her unfortunate gallant, when occasion requires.
'Tis no great while since there dwelt at Perugia a rich man named Pietro
di Vinciolo, who rather, perchance, to blind others and mitigate the evil
repute in which he was held by the citizens of Perugia, than for any
desire to wed, took a wife: and such being his motive, Fortune provided
him with just such a spouse as he merited. For the wife of his choice was
a stout, red-haired young woman, and so hot-blooded that two husbands
would have been more to her mind than one, whereas one fell to her lot
that gave her only a subordinate place in his regard. Which she
perceiving, while she knew herself to be fair and lusty, and felt herself
to be gamesome and fit, waxed very wroth, and now and again had high
words with her husband, and led but a sorry life with him at most times.
Then, seeing that thereby she was more like to fret herself than to
dispose her husband to conduct less base, she said to herself:--This poor
creature deserts me to go walk in pattens in the dry; wherefore it shall
go hard but I will bring another aboard the ship for the wet weather. I
married him, and brought him a great and goodly dowry, knowing that he
was a man, and supposing him to have the desires which men have and ought
to have; and had I not deemed him to be a man, I should never have
married him. He knew me to be a woman: why then took he me to wife, if
women were not to his mind? 'Tis not to be endured. Had I not been minded
to live in the world, I had become a nun; and being minded there to live,
as I am, if I am to wait until I have pleasure or solace of him, I shall
wait perchance until I am old; and then, too late, I shall bethink me to
my sorrow that I have wasted my youth; and as to the way in which I
should seek its proper solace I need no better teacher and guide than
him, who finds his delight where I should find mine, and finds it to his
own condemnation, whereas in me 'twere commendable. 'Tis but the laws
that I shall set at nought, whereas he sets both them and Nature herself
at nought.
So the good lady reasoned, and peradventure more than once; and then,
casting about how she might privily compass her end, she made friends
with an old beldam, that shewed as a veritable Santa Verdiana,
foster-mother of vipers, who was ever to be seen going to pardonings with
a parcel of paternosters in her hand, and talked of nothing but the lives
of the holy Fathers, and the wounds of St. Francis, and was generally
reputed a saint; to whom in due time she opened her whole mind. "My
daughter," replied the beldam, "God, who knows all things, knows that
thou wilt do very rightly indeed: were it for no other reason, 'twould be
meet for thee and every other young woman so to do, that the heyday of
youth be not wasted; for there is no grief like that of knowing that it
has been wasted. And what the devil are we women fit for when we are old
except to pore over the cinders on the hearth? The which if any know, and
may attest it, 'tis I, who, now that I am old, call to mind the time that
I let slip from me, not without most sore and bitter and fruitless
regret: and albeit 'twas not all wasted, for I would not have thee think
that I was entirely without sense, yet I did not make the best use of it:
whereof when I bethink me, and that I am now, even as thou seest me, such
a hag that never a spark of fire may I hope to get from any, God knows
how I rue it. Now with men 'tis otherwise: they are born meet for a
thousand uses, not for this alone; and the more part of them are of much
greater consequence in old age than in youth: but women are fit for
nought but this, and 'tis but for that they bear children that they are
cherished. Whereof, if not otherwise, thou mayst assure thyself, if thou
do but consider that we are ever ready for it; which is not the case with
men; besides which, one woman will tire out many men without being
herself tired out. Seeing then that 'tis for this we are born, I tell
thee again that thou wilt do very rightly to give thy husband thy loaf
for his cake, that in thy old age thy soul may have no cause of complaint
against thy flesh. Every one has just as much of this life as he
appropriates: and this is especially true of women, whom therefore it
behoves, much more than men, to seize the moment as it flies: indeed, as
thou mayst see for thyself, when we grow old neither husband, nor any
other man will spare us a glance; but, on the contrary, they banish us to
the kitchen, there to tell stories to the cat, and to count the pots and
pans; or, worse, they make rhymes about us:--'To the damsel dainty bits;
to the beldam ague-fits;' and such-like catches. But to make no more
words about it, I tell thee at once that there is no person in the world
to whom thou couldst open thy mind with more advantage than to me; for
there is no gentleman so fine but I dare speak my mind to him, nor any so
harsh and forbidding but I know well how to soften him and fashion him to
my will. Tell me only what thou wouldst have, and leave the rest to me:
but one word more: I pray thee to have me in kindly remembrance, for that
I am poor; and thou shalt henceforth go shares with me in all my
indulgences and every paternoster that I say, that God may make thereof
light and tapers for thy dead:" wherewith she ended.
So the lady came to an understanding with the beldam, that, as soon as
she set eyes on a boy that often came along that street, and of whom the
lady gave her a particular description, she would know what she was to
do: and thereupon the lady gave her a chunk of salt meat, and bade her
God-speed. The beldam before long smuggled into the lady's chamber the
boy of whom she had spoken, and not long after another, such being the
humour of the lady, who, standing in perpetual dread of her husband, was
disposed, in this particular, to make the most of her opportunities. And
one of these days, her husband being to sup in the evening with a friend
named Ercolano, the lady bade the beldam bring her a boy as pretty and
dainty as was to be found in Perugia; and so the beldam forthwith did.
But the lady and the boy being set at table to sup, lo, Pietro's voice
was heard at the door, bidding open to him. Whereupon the lady gave
herself up for dead; but being fain, if she might, to screen the boy, and
knowing not where else to convey or conceal him, bestowed him under a
hen-coop that stood in a veranda hard by the chamber in which they were
supping, and threw over it a sorry mattress that she had that day emptied
of its straw; which done she hastened to open the door to her husband;
saying to him as he entered:--"You have gulped your supper mighty quickly
to-night." Whereto Pietro replied:--"We have not so much as tasted it."
"How so?" enquired the lady. "I will tell thee," said Pietro. "No sooner
were we set at table, Ercolano, his wife, and I, than we heard a sneeze
close to us, to which, though 'twas repeated, we paid no heed; but as the
sneezer continued to sneeze a third, a fourth, a fifth, and many another
time to boot, we all began to wonder, and Ercolano, who was somewhat out
of humour with his wife, because she had kept us a long time at the door
before she opened it, burst out in a sort of rage with:--'What means
this? Who is't that thus sneezes?' and made off to a stair hard by,
beneath which and close to its foot was a wooden closet, of the sort
which, when folk are furnishing their houses, they commonly cause to be
placed there, to stow things in upon occasion. And as it seemed to him
that the sneezing proceeded thence, he undid the wicket, and no sooner
had he opened it than out flew never so strong a stench of brimstone;
albeit we had already been saluted by a whiff of it, and complained
thereof, but had been put off by the lady with:--''Tis but that a while
ago I bleached my veils with brimstone, having sprinkled it on a dish,
that they might catch its fumes, which dish I then placed under the
stair, so that it still smells a little.'
"However the door being now, as I have said, open, and the smoke somewhat
less dense, Ercolano, peering in, espied the fellow that had sneezed, and
who still kept sneezing, being thereto constrained by the pungency of the
brimstone. And for all he sneezed, yet was he by this time so well-nigh
choked with the brimstone that he was like neither to sneeze nor to do
aught else again. As soon as he caught sight of him, Ercolano bawled
out:--'Now see I, Madam, why it was that a while ago, when we came here,
we were kept waiting so long at the gate before 'twas opened; but woe
betide me for the rest of my days, if I pay you not out.' Whereupon the
lady, perceiving that her offence was discovered, ventured no excuse, but
fled from the table, whither I know not. Ercolano, ignoring his wife's
flight, bade the sneezer again and again to come forth; but he, being by
this time fairly spent, budged not an inch for aught that Ercolano said.
Wherefore Ercolano caught him by one of his feet, and dragged him forth,
and ran off for a knife with intent to kill him; but I, standing in fear
of the Signory on my own account, got up and would not suffer him to kill
the fellow or do him any hurt, and for his better protection raised the
alarm, whereby some of the neighbours came up and took the lad, more dead
than alive, and bore him off, I know not whither. However, our supper
being thus rudely interrupted, not only have not gulped it, but I have
not so much as tasted it, as I said before!"
Her husband's story shewed his wife that there were other ladies as
knowing as she, albeit misfortune might sometimes overtake them and
gladly would she have spoken out in defence of Ercolano's wife, but,
thinking that, by censuring another's sin, she would secure more scope
for her own, she launched out on this wise:--"Fine doings indeed, a right
virtuous and saintly lady she must be: here is the loyalty of an honest
woman, and one to whom I had lief have confessed, so spiritual I deemed
her; and the worst of it is that, being no longer young, she sets a rare
example to those that are so. Curses on the hour that she came into the
world: curses upon her that she make not away with herself, basest, most
faithless of women that she must needs be, the reproach of her sex, the
opprobrium of all the ladies of this city, to cast aside all regard for
her honour, her marriage vow, her reputation before the world, and, lost
to all sense of shame, to scruple not to bring disgrace upon a man so
worthy, a citizen so honourable, a husband by whom she was so well
treated, ay, and upon herself to boot! By my hope of salvation no mercy
should be shewn to such women; they should pay the penalty with their
lives; to the fire with them while they yet live, and let them be burned
to ashes." Then, calling to mind the lover that she had close at hand in
the hen-coop, she fell to coaxing Pietro to get him to bed, for the hour
grew late. Pietro, who was more set on eating than sleeping, only asked
whether there was aught he might have by way of supper. "Supper,
forsooth!" replied the lady. "Ay, of course 'tis our way to make much of
supper when thou art not at home. As if I were Ercolano's wife! Now,
wherefore tarry longer? Go, get thy night's rest: 'twere far better for
thee."
Now so it was that some of Pietro's husbandmen had come to the house that
evening with divers things from the farm, and had put up their asses in a
stable that adjoined the veranda, but had neglected to water them; and
one of the asses being exceeding thirsty, got his head out of the halter
and broke loose from the stable, and went about nosing everything, if
haply he might come by water: whereby he came upon the hen-coop, beneath
which was the boy; who, being constrained to stand on all fours, had the
fingers of one hand somewhat protruding from under the hen-coop; and so
as luck or rather ill-luck would have it, the ass trod on them; whereat,
being sorely hurt, he set up a great howling, much to the surprise of
Pietro, who perceived that 'twas within his house. So forth he came, and
hearing the boy still moaning and groaning, for the ass still kept his
hoof hard down on the fingers, called out:--"Who is there?" and ran to
the hen-coop and raised it, and espied the fellow, who, besides the pain
that the crushing of his fingers by the ass's hoof occasioned him,
trembled in every limb for fear that Pietro should do him a mischief. He
was one that Pietro had long been after for his foul purposes: so Pietro,
recognizing him, asked him:--"What dost thou here?" The boy making no
answer, save to beseech him for the love of God to do him no hurt, Pietro
continued:--"Get up, have no fear that I shall hurt thee; but tell
me:--How, and for what cause comest thou to be here?" The boy then
confessed everything. Whereupon Pietro, as elated by the discovery as his
wife was distressed, took him by the hand; and led him into the room
where the lady in the extremity of terror awaited him; and, having seated
himself directly in front of her, said:--"'Twas but a moment ago that
thou didst curse Ercolano's wife, and averred that she ought to be
burned, and that she was the reproach of your sex: why saidst thou not,
of thyself? Or, if thou wast not minded to accuse thyself, how hadst thou
the effrontery to censure her, knowing that thou hadst done even as she?
Verily 'twas for no other reason than that ye are all fashioned thus, and
study to cover your own misdeeds with the delinquencies of others: would
that fire might fall from heaven and burn you all, brood of iniquity that
ye are!"
The lady, marking that in the first flush of his wrath he had given her
nothing worse than hard words, and discerning, as she thought, that he
was secretly overjoyed to hold so beautiful a boy by the hand, took heart
of grace and said:--"I doubt not indeed that thou wouldst be well pleased
that fire should fall from heaven and devour us all, seeing that thou art
as fond of us as a dog is of the stick, though by the Holy Rood thou wilt
be disappointed; but I would fain have a little argument with thee, to
know whereof thou complainest. Well indeed were it with me, didst thou
but place me on an equality with Ercolano's wife, who is an old
sanctimonious hypocrite, and has of him all that she wants, and is
cherished by him as a wife should be: but that is not my case. For,
granted that thou givest me garments and shoes to my mind, thou knowest
how otherwise ill bested I am, and how long it is since last thou didst
lie with me; and far liefer had I go barefoot and in rags, and have thy
benevolence abed, than have all that I have, and be treated as thou dost
treat me. Understand me, Pietro, be reasonable; consider that I am a
woman like other women, with the like craving; whereof if thou deny me
the gratification, 'tis no blame to me that I seek it elsewhere; and at
least I do thee so much honour as not forgather with stable-boys or
scurvy knaves."
Pietro perceived that she was like to continue in this vein the whole
night: wherefore, indifferent as he was to her, he said:--"Now, Madam, no
more of this; in the matter of which thou speakest I will content thee;
but of thy great courtesy let us have something to eat by way of supper;
for, methinks, the boy, as well as I, has not yet supped." "Ay, true
enough," said the lady, "he has not supped; for we were but just sitting
down to table to sup, when, beshrew thee, thou madest thy appearance."
"Go then," said Pietro, "get us some supper; and by and by I will arrange
this affair in such a way that thou shalt have no more cause of
complaint." The lady, perceiving that her husband was now tranquil, rose,
and soon had the table laid again and spread with the supper which she
had ready; and so they made a jolly meal of it, the caitiff husband, the
lady and the boy. What after supper Pietro devised for their mutual
satisfaction has slipped from my memory. But so much as this I know, that
on the morrow as he wended his way to the piazza, the boy would have been
puzzled to say, whether of the twain, the wife or the husband, had had
the most of his company during the night. But this I would say to you,
dear my ladies, that whoso gives you tit, why, just give him tat; and if
you cannot do it at once, why, bear it in mind until you can, that even
as the ass gives, so he may receive.
Dioneo's story, whereat the ladies laughed the less for shamefastness
rather than for disrelish, being ended, the queen, taking note that the
term of her sovereignty was come, rose to her feet, and took off the
laurel wreath and set it graciously upon Elisa's head, saying:--"Madam,
'tis now your turn to bear sway." The dignity accepted, Elisa followed in
all respects the example of her predecessors: she first conferred with
the seneschal, and directed him how meetly to order all things during the
time of her sovereignty; which done to the satisfaction of the
company:--"Ofttimes," quoth she, "have we heard how with bright sallies,
and ready retorts, and sudden devices, not a few have known how to repugn
with apt checks the bites of others, or to avert imminent perils; and
because 'tis an excellent argument, and may be profitable, I ordain that
to-morrow, God helping us, the following be the rule of our discourse; to
wit, that it be of such as by some sprightly sally have repulsed an
attack, or by some ready retort or device have avoided loss, peril or
scorn." The rule being heartily approved by all, the queen rose and
dismissed them till supper-time. So the honourable company, seeing the
queen risen, rose all likewise, and as their wont was, betook them to
their diversions as to each seemed best. But when the cicalas had hushed
their chirping, all were mustered again for supper; and having blithely
feasted, they all addressed them to song and dance. And the queen, while
Emilia led a dance, called for a song from Dioneo, who at once came out
with:--'Monna Aldruda, come perk up thy mood, a piece of glad tidings I
bring thee.' Whereat all the ladies fell a laughing, and most of all the
queen, who bade him give them no more of that, but sing another. Quoth
Dioneo:--"Madam, had I a tabret, I would sing:--'Up with your smock,
Monna Lapa!' or:--'Oh! the greensward under the olive!' Or perchance you
had liefer I should give you:--'Woe is me, the wave of the sea!' But no
tabret have I: wherefore choose which of these others you will have.
Perchance you would like:--'Now hie thee to us forth, that so it may be
cut, as May the fields about.'" "No," returned the queen, "give us
another." "Then," said Dioneo, "I will sing:--'Monna Simona, embarrel,
embarrel. Why, 'tis not the month of October.'"(1) "Now a plague upon
thee," said the queen, with a laugh; "give us a proper song, wilt thou?
for we will have none of these." "Never fear, Madam," replied Dioneo;
"only say which you prefer. I have more than a thousand songs by heart.
Perhaps you would like:--'This my little covert, make I ne'er it overt';
or:--'Gently, gently, husband mine'; or:--'A hundred pounds were none too
high a price for me a cock to buy.'" The queen now shewed some offence,
though the other ladies laughed, and:--"A truce to thy jesting, Dioneo,"
said she, "and give us a proper song: else thou mayst prove the quality
of my ire." Whereupon Dioneo forthwith ceased his fooling, and sang on
this wise:--
So ravishing a light
Doth from the fair eyes of my mistress move
As keeps me slave to her and thee, O Love.
A beam from those bright orbs did radiate
That flame that through mine own eyes to my breast
Did whilom entrance gain.
Thy majesty, O Love, thy might, how great
They be, 'twas her fair face did manifest:
Whereon to brood still fain,
I felt thee take and chain
Each sense, my soul enthralling on such wise
That she alone henceforth evokes my sighs.
Wherefore, O dear my Lord, myself I own
Thy slave, and, all obedience, wait and yearn,
Till thy might me console.
Yet wot I not if it be throughly known
How noble is the flame wherewith I burn,
My loyalty how whole
To her that doth control
Ev'n in such sort my mind that shall I none,
Nor would I, peace receive, save hers alone.
And so I pray thee, sweet my Lord, that thou
Give her to feel thy fire, and shew her plain
How grievous my disease.
This service deign to render; for that now
Thou seest me waste for love, and in the pain
Dissolve me by degrees:
And then the apt moment seize
My cause to plead with her, as is but due
From thee to me, who fain with thee would sue.
When Dioneo's silence shewed that his song was ended, the queen accorded
it no stinted meed of praise; after which she caused not a few other
songs to be sung. Thus passed some part of the night; and then the queen,
taking note that its freshness had vanquished the heat of the day, bade
all go rest them, if they would, till the morning.
(1) The song is evidently amoebean.
--
Endeth here the fifth day of the Decameron, beginneth the sixth, wherein,
under the rule of Elisa, discourse is had of such as by some sprightly
sally have repulsed an attack, or by some ready retort or device have
avoided loss, peril or scorn.
--
Still in mid heaven, the moon had lost her radiance, nor was any part of
our world unillumined by the fresh splendour of the dawn, when, the queen
being risen and having mustered her company, they hied them, gently
sauntering, across the dewy mead some distance from the beautiful hill,
conversing now of this, now of the other matter, canvassing the stories,
their greater or less degree of beauty, and laughing afresh at divers of
their incidents, until, the sun being now in his higher ascendant, they
began to feel his heat, and turning back by common consent, retraced
their steps to the palace, where, the tables being already set, and
fragrant herbs and fair flowers strewn all about, they by the queen's
command, before it should grow hotter, addressed themselves to their
meal. So, having blithely breakfasted, they first of all sang some dainty
and jocund ditties, and then, as they were severally minded, composed
them to sleep or sat them down to chess or dice, while Dioneo and
Lauretta fell a singing of Troilus and Cressida.
The hour of session being come, they took their places, at the queen's
summons, in their wonted order by the fountain; but, when the queen was
about to call for the first story, that happened which had not happened
before; to wit, there being a great uproar in the kitchen among the maids
and men, the sound thereof reached the ears of the queen and all the
company. Whereupon the queen called the seneschal and asked him who
bawled so loud, and what was the occasion of the uproar. The seneschal
made answer that 'twas some contention between Licisca and Tindaro; but
the occasion he knew not, having but just come to quiet them, when he
received her summons. The queen then bade him cause Licisca and Tindaro
to come thither forthwith: so they came, and the queen enquired of them
the cause of the uproar. Tindaro was about to make answer, when Licisca,
who was somewhat advanced in years, and disposed to give herself airs,
and heated to the strife of words, turned to Tindaro, and scowling upon
him said:--"Unmannerly varlet that makest bold to speak before me; leave
me to tell the story." Then, turning to the queen, she said:--"Madam,
this fellow would fain instruct me as to Sicofante's wife, and--neither
more or less--as if I had not known her well--would have me believe that,
the first night that Sicofante lay with her, 'twas by force and not
without effusion of blood that Master Yard made his way into Dusky Hill;
which I deny, averring that he met with no resistance, but, on the
contrary, with a hearty welcome on the part of the garrison. And such a
numskull is he as fondly to believe that the girls are so simple as to
let slip their opportunities, while they wait on the caprice of father or
brothers, who six times out of seven delay to marry them for three or
four years after they should. Ay, ay indeed, doubtless they were well
advised to tarry so long! Christ's faith! I should know the truth of what
I swear; there is never a woman in my neighbourhood whose husband had her
virginity; and well I know how many and what manner of tricks our married
dames play their husbands; and yet this booby would fain teach me to know
women as if I were but born yesterday."
While Licisca thus spoke, the ladies laughed till all their teeth were
ready to start from their heads. Six times at least the queen bade her be
silent: but all in vain; she halted not till she had said all that she
had a mind to. When she had done, the queen turned with a smile to Dioneo
saying:--"This is a question for thee to deal with, Dioneo; so hold
thyself in readiness to give final judgment upon it, when our stories are
ended." "Madam," replied Dioneo forthwith, "I give judgment without more
ado: I say that Licisca is in the right; I believe that 'tis even as she
says, and that Tindaro is a fool." Whereupon Licisca burst out laughing,
and turning to Tindaro:--"Now did I not tell thee so?" quoth she. "Begone
in God's name: dost think to know more than I, thou that art but a
sucking babe? Thank God, I have not lived for nothing, not I." And had
not the queen sternly bade her be silent, and make no more disturbance,
unless she had a mind to be whipped, and sent both her and Tindaro back
to the kitchen, the whole day would have been spent in nought but
listening to her. So Licisca and Tindaro having withdrawn, the queen
charged Filomena to tell the first story: and gaily thus Filomena began.