story had got wind, remained mostly shut up in his house or at his
country villa, secluded from all society. Antonio, after bitterly
sorrowing for the death of his dear Veronica, and finding that the old
man had never discovered who the cavalier was who had escaped on that
fatal night, determined after a few days, as well to prevent suspicion,
as moved by compassion, to visit the old man; he generally accompanied
him to his villa, and shewed himself as kind, obedient, and dutiful, as
if he had been his own son, the which Mazzeo felt the more sensibly, as
the youth seemed to be the only one who had not forsaken him in his dire
calamity, and therefore loved him as he would have done his own,
and could not rest one hour without his dear Antonio. As the latter
persevered in his kindness and attentions to him, it occurred to the old
man, that since his ill fortune had deprived him of an heir, he would
adopt him as such. Full of this thought he made his will, and left
Antonio heir to every thing he possessed, and died shortly after.
Antonio having thus acquired immense property, and occupying the house
of the deceased, met with numberless objects that recalled to his mind
the tender and heroic affection of his dear Veronica, who rather met her
death, than reveal his name. His grief and gratitude were such, that
he vowed he never would marry. Meanwhile the duke determined to go to
Calabria, which thing enraptured the Pugliese (Veronica), as she would
not only see her dear country again, but might perchance hear of her
lover, and of her father, whom she still loved, in spite of his cruelty,
and of whom she had made no enquiry lest her secret should be known.
Being arrived at Salerno, and the duke’s retinue accommodated with
lodgings according to their rank, it happened, as it pleased fortune
to ordain, in order to put an end to their long sufferings, and finally
make Antonio happy, that it fell to the lot of Antonio Marcello to
accommodate the Pugliese and his companions with lodgings, which
circumstance we may naturally suppose was no small joy to Veronica.
They were honorably and courteously entertained by Antonio; at night he
provided an elegant supper, and in the very apartment where he was wont
to spend such happy moments with Veronica. As these two were looking
anxiously on each other, Antonio thought he traced in the countenance of
the Pugliese some of the features of his beloved, and recollecting her
death, every word he uttered was broken by the deepest sighs. Veronica,
seeing herself in her own house, though delighted at beholding her lover
in possession of all the property, yet not seeing her father nor any of
the family she had left, felt much afflicted and became very desirous
of hearing something about him. While she remained thus agitated, in the
course of the supper, her companion asked Antonio whether those painted
arms in the hall were his, to which Antonio answered in the negative,
and said they were those of a noble lord, named Messer Mazzeo, first
judge, who having died in old age without children, had bequeathed all
his property to him, for which reason having been adopted by him, he had
taken possession, not only of the property, but assumed the name, as if
he had been his own father. When Veronica heard this, her heart leaped
with joy, and she could scarcely refrain from shedding tears; she,
however, calmed herself till supper was over, when she thought it was
high time she should fold her beloved to her arms, whom fortune had so
kindly preserved to her; and taking Antonio by the hand, leaving her
friends with the rest of the company, they entered an adjoining room,
where she wished to say something to him by which he might recognise
her. She attempted to speak, but could not utter a syllable from excess
of joy and tears. Thus exhausted by contending feelings, she fell into
his arms, exclaiming; “Oh! Antonio, my love, is it possible thou dost
not know me?” He, who as I have said before, thought he recognized some
features of his dear Veronica, upon hearing those words, immediately
became convinced of what he only at first surmised, and overcome with
the ten-derest feelings, said, “my soul, art thou really living?” So
saying he swooned in her arms. After caressing each other for a time
with endearments, and relating their adventures, Antonio considering it
fit to divulge the whole circumstances, and herself being of the same
mind, they went out of the room to her companions, and although it was
late, Antonio sent to all his own friends and Veronica’s, desiring them
to attend directly at his house, on business of the greatest importance.
They being arrived, he requested them to attend him as far as the palace
of the duke, as he meant to request him to put him in possession of
an estate formerly belonging to Messer Mazzeo, from which no fruit or
advantage had been derived for many years past. The whole group having
willingly agreed so to do, when before the duke, Antonio, taking his
Veronica by the hand, in the presence of all, related every circumstance
that had happened, without concealing the least particular; declaring
afterwards how, from the very beginning of their love, they had pledged
their faith as man and wife, and meant, with their lord’s approbation,
to celebrate publicly this marriage. The duke, barons, relations,
and strangers present, hearing these extraordinary events were much
surprised, and heartily rejoiced at the happy issue. The conduct and
constancy of Antonio and Veronica were highly praised; they took leave
of the duke, and next day high mass was celebrated in the presence of
his highness, and Antonio and Veronica were both married; noble presents
were sent by the duke, and they in love, and with many beautiful
children, lived, and terminated this life at a very old age.
BELPHAGOR.
We find in the ancient records of Florence, that a most holy man, whose
life was, in after years, celebrated for sanctity, being one night
deeply engaged in meditation, fell into a dream and saw numbers of the
souls of wretched mortals, who had died under the displeasure of the
gods, and inhabited the dark regions of Pluto; complaining, at least
most part of them, of having been driven to such misery by marriage; the
which greatly surprised Minos, Radamanthus, and other infernal judges,
as they did not credit those falsehoods against the sex. But these
complaints increasing daily, after informing Pluto of it, it was
resolved to hold a council of all the infernal deities upon the subject,
and ultimately determine upon what might be best to do, in order to
ascertain the whole truth of the case. These being called to council,
Pluto spoke in the following manner:--“Although, my dearly beloved,
by celestial power and irrevocable fate, I possess this realm, and am
wholly unaccountable to any celestial or mortal being, yet as it is more
wise to listen to the opinions of others, I have resolved to take your
advice in a case that might eventually be of great dishonour to our
empire; all the souls of men that come into our infernal kingdom, say
that their wives are the cause of it; this appearing impossible to us,
we therefore fear that in passing sentence on this subject, we may,
perhaps, be accused of too much cruelty, or of not being sufficiently
severe, and unfriendly to justice; being desirous to avoid both these
charges, we have called upon you for your advice and assistance,
in order that this realm may remain, as it ever hath been, without
disgrace.”
[Illustration: 252]
It appeared to all the infernal lords that it was a most momentous
case, and they unanimously agreed that it ought to be sifted to the
very bottom, but disagreed about the means and manner of carrying the
investigation into effect; some were of opinion that one of them should
be sent into the world, in the shape of a man, to ascertain personally
the truth; others thought it might be done with less difficulty, by
compelling several souls, by various torments, to tell the truth; but
the majority decreeing that some one should be sent, they decided upon
the former opinion. No one being inclined to take this business upon
himself, it was settled that chance should determine, the which fell to
the lot of the arch-devil Belphagor, who, before he was kicked out of
heaven, was called archangel; he, though against his will, was compelled
by Pluto’s power to accept the office, and prepared to do that which
the council should determine, and bound himself to such compacts as
had solemnly been stipulated between them; the which were, that he who
should be deputed should immediately receive a hundred thousand ducats,
with which he was to come into the world with the features of man--take
to him a wife--live ten years with her--then, feigning death, should
return; and, by his own experience, prove to his superiors, what are the
sorrows and comforts of the married state. It was moreover fixed, that
he should be subject to all the misfortunes, and all the evils incident
to man--that of poverty, imprisonment, diseases, and other calamities
which men draw on themselves, unless he could extricate himself from
them by deceit or cunning. Belphagor, having assumed the man, and taken
the cash, came to the world, and after having ordered his horses and
attendants, he made cheerfully towards Florence, the which city he chose
in preference to any other, as the one where roguery and usury were most
likely to thrive; and, taking the name of Roderigo, he hired a house in
the Borgo d’Ogrissanti. In order that they might not enquire who he was,
he gave out that he had quitted Spain, when very young, and going to
Syria, had gained all his wealth at Aleppo, and that his object in
coming to Italy was to take a wife, as being a more civilized country,
and more congenial to his feelings. Roderigo was a very handsome man,
about thirty, and being in a very few days known to possess immense
riches, and it appearing that he was liberal and humane, many noble
citizens who had plenty of daughters, and a scarcity of money, made
offers to him; out of the number, Roderigo selected a most beautiful
young lady called Onesta, daughter of Amerigo Donati, who had three
other daughters almost marriageable, and three sons grown to man’s
estate. Although he was of a noble family, and greatly esteemed in
Florence, yet, in consequence of a style of living suited to his rank,
he was very poor.
Roderigo’s wedding was most splendid; nothing usual on such occasions
was forgotten or neglected; it having been decreed before he left the
dark regions, that he should be subject to all the passions of men, he
soon took delight and pride in the pomp and vanities of the world, and
the praises of men, the which cost him dear enough; besides this, he had
not been long with his wife before he fell desperately in love with her,
and was wretched if she happened to look otherwise than cheerful, or was
displeased at any thing. Madonna Onesta had not only brought youth
and beauty to Roderigo, but such a share of pride, that he, who was a
tolerable judge, thought the pride of Lucifer himself was a mere nothing
to it; this greatly increased the very instant she perceived how much
her husband doated upon her, and as she thought she could rule him as
she pleased, she commanded him imperiously, nor did she hesitate, if
he denied her any thing, to abuse and maltreat him, the which greatly
annoyed him, yet the ties of matrimony, and the love he bore her, made
him endure all with patience. I make no mention of the very enormous
expenses he was at to please her in new fashions, which naturally often
vary in this our city, and which he was obliged to submit to for the
sake of peace. He was compelled to help his father-in-law in portioning
the other girls; then again, to be on good terms with her, he was
compelled to equip one brother for the Levant with clothes, &c., and the
other to the west with silks; and, lastly, to open a goldbeater’s shop
for the third, all of which consumed the best part of his fortune.
Moreover, in the carnival time and festival of St. John, when the whole
city is nothing but feasting and revels, and when the noblemen treat
each other with splendid entertainments, Madonna Onesta would not yield
to any lady in splendour and show, but insisted that her Roderigo should
outdo them all in magnificence. Quietly did Roderigo bear all these
things for the reasons above-mentioned--peace and quietness; nor would
he have grudged the expense, though very annoying, nay, would have even
borne more, could he but have had peace in the house; or could he have
waited quietly the moment of his ruin: but, on the contrary, it was
quite the reverse, for besides the ruinous extravagance she led him
into, her diabolical nature wearied him daily, nor was there a servant
in the house that could stay any time. Roderigo, of course, suffered
much in not being able to keep a single servant that could take care
of his property, for the very devils he had brought with him, under the
shape of servants, rather chose to return to hell, among their native
fire and smoke, than dwell in the world under her controul. Roderigo
going on in this dreadful way, and having wasted all his property in the
above manner, began to live on the hopes of remittances from the east
and west, which he expected to receive, but being put to shifts and
having good credit still, he borrowed on promissory notes. At this
juncture the intelligence arrived from the east and west that one of the
Madonna Oliesta’s brothers had gambled away all Roderigo’s property, and
that the other, on his return with a ship laden with goods uninsured,
had been drowned, and the ship sunk. The instant the news was made
known, the creditors assembled, and judging he was a ruined man, they
being prevented from making any demands, the notes not being as yet due,
agreed it was proper to keep a watchful eye over him, in order that he
might not give them the slip. Roderigo, on the other hand, seeing his
situation desperate, and thinking of the infernal law that bound him to
this sublunary world, determined to be off at any rate. He mounted his
horse one morning, and living near the gate Alprato, he rode through on
his way. No sooner was his departure heard of, than the creditors were
roused up to action, and applying to the magistrate, they flew with the
police, and even the populace, after him. Roderigo was scarcely one mile
off, when he heard the outcry behind him. Conceiving the road was but an
indifferent protection, he thought that striking across the fields would
be a far safer way; but in so doing he found so many ditches in his
road, the which are frequent in that part, that he alighted, left his
horse, and ran on foot through fields covered with vines and reeds,
with which that country abounds. He arrived at Peretola, at the house of
Matteo del Bricea, a labourer of Giovanni del Bene, and as chance would
have it, found Matteo feeding the oxen. Roderigo begged of him to save
him from the hands of his enemies, who, he said, pursued him, to take
him and shut him up in gaol to die; promising him a great reward, and
adding, that he would enrich him, and would, before he left him, give
him such proofs that he could no longer doubt; and should he not keep
his word, he would allow him to deliver him up to his pursuers. Matteo,
though but a labourer, was a man of spirit, and kind-hearted; and
thinking he could lose nothing by protecting him, he promised so to do,
and concealed him behind a dunghill, covered him up with lumber, and
sticks which he had brought for firewood. Roderigo had scarcely time to
conceal himself properly, before his pursuers reached the place, who,
however, could not obtain from Matteo an avowal that he had seen any
such a one as they described. They, therefore, continued their way;
being unsuccessful in their search, after two days pursuit, they
returned back to Florence. When the bustle was over, Matteo took him
out of his concealment. Roderigo said to him, “Matteo, I am under the
greatest obligation to you, and will reward you, and that thou mayest
believe me, I will tell thee who I am,”--upon this he related to him who
he was, and the orders he received on going out of hell; his taking a
wife; the eternal plague he had with her, and, moreover, the means he
should use to enrich him, which was this:--when he should hear that
there was a young woman possessed with the devil, to be quite assured
that it was he who was within her, and that he should not cast himself
from her until he himself should come, by which means he might get
such payment from her friends as he might choose. Thus agreed, he
disappeared. Very few days had elapsed, when it was reported in
Florence that a daughter of Ambrogio Amadeo, who had married Buonijuto
Zebalducci, was possessed by the devil. The friends, of course, tried
all the remedies usually recurred to in such cases, such as placing the
head of Saint Zarobi on her head, and Saint John of Gualberto’s cloak,
which things were rendered of no avail by Roderigo, and to make it clear
that the deceased had really and truly an evil spirit within her, he
made her speak Latin, and hold a disputation on philosophy. She made
public the sins of people, and particularly those of a monk, who had
kept a female more than four years under the dress of a young friar;
which things people much marveled at. Messer Ambrogio, however, was
truly miserable, and had lost all hopes of a cure, when Matteo having
heard of the case, came to him, and told him that if he would give him
five hundred florins to purchase a little farm at Ponterolo, he would
restore the lady to her perfect senses. Ambrogio accepted the offer,
upon which Matteo having ordered several masses to be said, and numerous
mysterious ceremonies to be performed, in order the better to conceal
the business, he accosted the lady, and whispering into her ear, said,
“Roderigo, I am now come to thee that thou mayest perform thy promise,” to
which Roderigo answered, “but this sum is not enough to make thee rich,
therefore as soon as I depart from this, I will cast myself into the
daughter of Charles, King of Naples, nor will I depart from her until thou
comest to me. Thou wilt then make thy own demand to the king, and after this,
never trouble me more.” This said, he came forth from the lady, to the
great amazement and joy of all present. It was but a few months after,
that the news was spread through Italy of the accident which had
befallen King Charles’s daughter. All the attempts of the monks proving
ineffectual to relieve her, and the King having heard of Matteo,
immediately dispatched a messenger to Florence to fetch him. Matteo
arrived soon at Naples, and, after some artful practices, removed the
evil spirit from the lady; but before Roderigo quitted his hold, he
said, “Matteo, thou seest I have kept my word with thee in enriching
thee; I therefore am now under no obligations whatever to thee; do not
thou ever attempt to appear before me, because I might hereafter do thee
much harm, instead of the good I have done thee.” Matteo, returning to
Florence very rich, for the king had given him fifty thousand ducats,
thought of enjoying his wealth in comfort, unconscious that Roderigo
would ever do him any injury; but this hope was soon frustrated by news
arriving that the daughter of Louis the Seventh of France was possessed
of the evil spirit; this quite upset the mind of Matteo, considering
the power of that king, and coupling, withal, the threat of Roderigo, if
ever he appeared before him. Meanwhile, Louis unable to find a cure
for his daughter, and being told of Matteo’s power of exorcism, sent
at first a messenger to request his attendance; but Matteo alleging
indisposition as an excuse, the king was obliged to apply to the
government, who compelled Matteo to obedience. In great grief and
perturbation of mind did Matteo arrive at Paris; he told the king that
certainly there were such things by which he had formerly cured persons
possessed with the devil, but that was not the case with all such,
because there were some of so wicked a nature, that neither threats,
exorcism, or religious ceremonies could move them; yet that he would
certainly do his best, but, that should his endeavours prove useless, he
entreated his majesty to pardon him. The king, greatly disappointed and
incensed, replied, that if he did not cure his daughter, he certainly
should be hanged. Matteo, of course, felt much alarmed at his ticklish
situation; nevertheless, summoning up his whole stock of courage,
he desired the lady might be called in, and with all humility, in a
whisper, entreated Roderigo to take pity on him, reminding him of what
he had formerly done by him: to which Roderigo answered, “treacherous
villain, hast thou the boldness to appear before me? dost thou forget I
made thee the rich man thou art? I will now show thee and the world
how I can bestow gifts, and bereave mortals of them at my pleasure,
and before thou quittest this place, I’ll have thee gibbeted.” Matteo,
conceiving he was lost, and seeing no other means of escape, determined
to try his fortune in another way; therefore, desiring the lady might be
dismissed, he said to the king, “Sire, I have already told your majesty,
that there are such malignant spirits, against which nothing will avail,
and this is one; however, I will try one last experiment, which, should
it succeed, will make your majesty and myself most happy; should it
fail, I hope your majesty will feel that compassion towards me that my
innocence deserves. To this effect your majesty will please to order
that a large platform be erected at the piazza of _Our Lady_, large
enough to contain all your barons and clergy, decking the railing with
cloths, silks, and gold fringes; in the middle of this platform I wish
an altar to be placed, and on Sunday morning next I wish your majesty
to attend in solemn and royal pomp, with all your barons and clergy in
their richest canonicals, when high mass shall be chaunted, and the lady
brought forth. Besides these things, I do request that a group of at
least twenty persons be placed at one corner of the square, with each
a trumpet, horn, bugle, cymbals, drums, kettle-drums, or other terrific
instruments, who, at the waving of my hat, shall immediately strike up
and walk on towards the platform; this and certain other exorcisms will,
I hope, drive the evil spirit from the lady.” Every thing was ordered
by his majesty which Matteo desired; on the Sunday morning the king,
barons, clergy, and populace being assembled, the mass was celebrated,
and the lady brought up to the platform by two bishops, and several
noblemen. Roderigo, when he beheld such a multitude collected together,
was almost confounded: “what the devil does this dastardly scoundrel
mean to do,” said he to himself; “does he think to frighten me by all
this show and bustle; does he not know that I am used to the pomp and
splendour of heaven, and the fire and furies of hell? but I will punish
him, that I will.” Matteo approached him, and entreated him to be gone.
“What do you mean,” said Roderigo, “do you think to terrify me by all
these preparations? dost thou think to shelter thyself from my power
and the king’s rage? Wretch! scoundrel that thou art! I will have thee
hanged, cost what it may,” and at it they went, abusing each other, till
at last Matteo thought it would be useless to lose any more time, and
gave the signal by waving his hat. All those that had been ordered
played up, and with an infernal noise approached the scaffold. Roderigo,
at this horrid cry and noise, pricked up his ears, and remained
stupified, not knowing what it could be, and asking Matteo what all that
meant. Matteo, seeming quite alarmed, said, “Oh, Roderigo, _it is your
wife, it is your wife_ that is coming to you!” At the hearing of his
wife’s name, no one would credit the agitation, fright, and terror it
threw him into; and without considering the improbability of its being
so, he was so thunderstruck that he instantly made off in a bustle, and
left the lady _free_, preferring to go back to hell and give an
account of his mission, to encountering the vexations, spite, troubles,
hardships, and dangers to which the marriage yoke had subjected him.
Thus Belphagor returned to the infernal regions, gave a true and
circumstantial account of all the evils which a wife brings into a
house, and Matteo, highly delighted at his exploit, and at having
outwitted the devil, returned home in raptures.
THE SLEEPING DRAUGHT
There was in Siena, not many years ago, a young man, the son of
respectable parents, named Marriotto Mignelli, who fell violently in
love with a young lady by name Gianozza, the daughter of one of the
most respectable and worthy citizens, descended from the family of
the Saraceni; in the course of time his assiduity and constancy were
returned by the lady with equal ardour. They, for some time, remained
satisfied with the joys of reciprocal protestations, and the sight of
each other alone was a blessing beyond their most ardent wishes,--but
this lasted but a short time; in what manner they should proceed to
complete their views of happiness they could not devise, knowing the
repulse they should meet from the parents of the lady. At last Gianozza,
who was as prudent as she was handsome, resolved on secretly being
married to him, and thus, should they be detected, to sanction their
secret intrigue under the cloak of a marriage. In order to accomplish
this object, they bribed an Augustin friar, by whose means they were
united. Having, for a time, enjoyed the fruits of this sly, and
partly unlawful marriage, it happened that fortune, contrary to their
expectations, turned all their joys to bitter sorrow. Marriotto one
day coming to high words with a respectable citizen, blows ensued, and
Marriotto unfortunately struck the man a severe blow with his stick on
the head, of which the unhappy man died a few days after: Marriotto,
therefore, carefully concealed himself. As the sbirri, who were sent in
quest of him, could not find him, he was outlawed by the magistrates,
and condemned to die if found within their jurisdiction.