A kindly thing it is to have compassion of the afflicted and albeit it
well beseemeth every one, yet of those is it more particularly
required who have erst had need of comfort and have found it in any,
amongst whom, if ever any had need thereof or held it dear or took
pleasure therein aforetimes, certes, I am one of these. For that,
having from my first youth unto this present been beyond measure
inflamed with a very high and noble passion (higher and nobler,
perchance, than might appear, were I to relate it, to sort with my low
estate) albeit by persons of discretion who had intelligence thereof I
was commended therefor and accounted so much the more worth, natheless
a passing sore travail it was to me to bear it, not, certes, by reason
of the cruelty of the beloved lady, but because of the exceeding
ardour begotten in my breast of an ill-ordered appetite, for which,
for that it suffered me not to stand content at any reasonable bounds,
caused me ofttimes feel more chagrin than I had occasion for. In this
my affliction the pleasant discourse of a certain friend of mine and
his admirable consolations afforded me such refreshment that I firmly
believe of these it came that I died not. But, as it pleased Him who,
being Himself infinite, hath for immutable law appointed unto all
things mundane that they shall have an end, my love,--beyond every
other fervent and which nor stress of reasoning nor counsel, no, nor
yet manifest shame nor peril that might ensue thereof, had availed
either to break or to bend,--of its own motion, in process of time, on
such wise abated that of itself at this present it hath left me only
that pleasance which it is used to afford unto whoso adventureth
himself not too far in the navigation of its profounder oceans; by
reason whereof, all chagrin being done away, I feel it grown
delightsome, whereas it used to be grievous. Yet, albeit the pain hath
ceased, not, therefore, is the memory fled of the benefits whilom
received and the kindnesses bestowed on me by those to whom, of the
goodwill they bore me, my troubles were grievous; nor, as I deem, will
it ever pass away, save for death. And for that gratitude, to my
thinking, is, among the other virtues, especially commendable and its
contrary blameworthy, I have, that I may not appear ungrateful,
bethought myself, now that I can call myself free, to endeavour, in
that little which is possible to me, to afford some relief, in
requital of that which I received aforetime,--if not to those who
succoured me and who, belike, by reason of their good sense or of
their fortune, have no occasion therefor,--to those, at least, who
stand in need thereof. And albeit my support, or rather I should say
my comfort, may be and indeed is of little enough avail to the
afflicted, natheless meseemeth it should rather be proffered whereas
the need appeareth greater, as well because it will there do more
service as for that it will still be there the liefer had. And who
will deny that this [comfort], whatsoever [worth] it be, it behoveth
much more to give unto lovesick ladies than unto men? For that these
within their tender bosoms, fearful and shamefast, hold hid the fires
of love (which those who have proved know how much more puissance they
have than those which are manifest), and constrained by the wishes,
the pleasures, the commandments of fathers, mothers, brothers and
husbands, abide most time enmewed in the narrow compass of their
chambers and sitting in a manner idle, willing and willing not in one
breath, revolve in themselves various thoughts which it is not
possible should still be merry. By reason whereof if there arise in
their minds any melancholy, bred of ardent desire, needs must it with
grievous annoy abide therein, except it be done away by new discourse;
more by token that they are far less strong than men to endure. With
men in love it happeneth not on this wise, as we may manifestly see.
They, if any melancholy or heaviness of thought oppress them, have
many means of easing it or doing it away, for that to them, an they
have a mind thereto, there lacketh not commodity of going about
hearing and seeing many things, fowling, hunting, fishing, riding,
gaming and trafficking; each of which means hath, altogether or in
part, power to draw the mind unto itself and to divert it from
troublous thought, at least for some space of time, whereafter, one
way or another, either solacement superveneth or else the annoy
groweth less. Wherefore, to the end that the unright of Fortune may by
me in part be amended, which, where there is the less strength to
endure, as we see it in delicate ladies, hath there been the more
niggard of support, I purpose, for the succour and solace of ladies in
love (unto others[1] the needle and the spindle and the reel suffice)
to recount an hundred stories or fables or parables or histories or
whatever you like to style them, in ten days' time related by an
honourable company of seven ladies and three young men made in the
days of the late deadly pestilence, together with sundry canzonets
sung by the aforesaid ladies for their diversion. In these stories
will be found love-chances,[2] both gladsome and grievous, and other
accidents of fortune befallen as well in times present as in days of
old, whereof the ladies aforesaid, who shall read them, may at once
take solace from the delectable things therein shown forth and useful
counsel, inasmuch as they may learn thereby what is to be eschewed and
what is on like wise to be ensued,--the which methinketh cannot betide
without cease of chagrin. If it happen thus (as God grant it may) let
them render thanks therefor to Love, who, by loosing me from his
bonds, hath vouchsafed me the power of applying myself to the service
of their pleasures.
[Footnote 1: _i.e._ those not in love.]
[Footnote 2: Syn. adventures (_casi_).]
_Day the First_
HERE BEGINNETH THE FIRST DAY OF THE DECAMERON WHEREIN (AFTER
DEMONSTRATION MADE BY THE AUTHOR OF THE MANNER IN WHICH IT
CAME TO PASS THAT THE PERSONS WHO ARE HEREINAFTER PRESENTED
FOREGATHERED FOR THE PURPOSE OF DEVISING TOGETHER) UNDER THE
GOVERNANCE OF PAMPINEA IS DISCOURSED OF THAT WHICH IS MOST
AGREEABLE UNTO EACH
As often, most gracious ladies, as, taking thought in myself, I mind
me how very pitiful you are all by nature, so often do I recognize
that this present work will, to your thinking, have a grievous and a
weariful beginning, inasmuch as the dolorous remembrance of the late
pestiferous mortality, which it beareth on its forefront, is
universally irksome to all who saw or otherwise knew it. But I would
not therefore have this affright you from reading further, as if in
the reading you were still to fare among sighs and tears. Let this
grisly beginning be none other to you than is to wayfarers a rugged
and steep mountain, beyond which is situate a most fair and delightful
plain, which latter cometh so much the pleasanter to them as the
greater was the hardship of the ascent and the descent; for, like as
dolour occupieth the extreme of gladness, even so are miseries
determined by imminent joyance. This brief annoy (I say brief,
inasmuch as it is contained in few pages) is straightway succeeded by
the pleasance and delight which I have already promised you and which,
belike, were it not aforesaid, might not be looked for from such a
beginning. And in truth, could I fairly have availed to bring you to
my desire otherwise than by so rugged a path as this will be I had
gladly done it; but being in a manner constrained thereto, for that,
without this reminiscence of our past miseries, it might not be shown
what was the occasion of the coming about of the things that will
hereafter be read, I have brought myself to write them.[3]
[Footnote 3: _i.e._ the few pages of which he speaks above.]
I say, then, that the years [of the era] of the fruitful Incarnation
of the Son of God had attained to the number of one thousand three
hundred and forty-eight, when into the notable city of Florence, fair
over every other of Italy, there came the death-dealing pestilence,
which, through the operation of the heavenly bodies or of our own
iniquitous dealings, being sent down upon mankind for our correction
by the just wrath of God, had some years before appeared in the parts
of the East and after having bereft these latter of an innumerable
number of inhabitants, extending without cease from one place to
another, had now unhappily spread towards the West. And thereagainst
no wisdom availing nor human foresight (whereby the city was purged of
many impurities by officers deputed to that end and it was forbidden
unto any sick person to enter therein and many were the counsels
given[4] for the preservation of health) nor yet humble
supplications, not once but many times both in ordered processions and
on other wise made unto God by devout persons,--about the coming in of
the Spring of the aforesaid year, it began on horrible and miraculous
wise to show forth its dolorous effects. Yet not as it had done in the
East, where, if any bled at the nose, it was a manifest sign of
inevitable death; nay, but in men and women alike there appeared, at
the beginning of the malady, certain swellings, either on the groin or
under the armpits, whereof some waxed of the bigness of a common
apple, others like unto an egg, some more and some less, and these the
vulgar named plague-boils. From these two parts the aforesaid
death-bearing plague-boils proceeded, in brief space, to appear and
come indifferently in every part of the body; wherefrom, after awhile,
the fashion of the contagion began to change into black or livid
blotches, which showed themselves in many [first] on the arms and
about the thighs and [after spread to] every other part of the person,
in some large and sparse and in others small and thick-sown; and like
as the plague-boils had been first (and yet were) a very certain token
of coming death, even so were these for every one to whom they came.
[Footnote 4: Syn. provisions made or means taken (_consigli dati_).
Boccaccio constantly uses _consiglio_ in this latter sense.]
To the cure of these maladies nor counsel[5] of physician nor virtue
of any medicine appeared to avail or profit aught; on the
contrary,--whether it was that the nature of the infection suffered it
not or that the ignorance of the physicians (of whom, over and above
the men of art, the number, both men and women, who had never had any
teaching of medicine, was become exceeding great,) availed not to know
whence it arose and consequently took not due measures thereagainst,--not
only did few recover thereof, but well nigh all died within the third
day from the appearance of the aforesaid signs, this sooner and that
later, and for the most part without fever or other accident.[6] And
this pestilence was the more virulent for that, by communication with
those who were sick thereof, it gat hold upon the sound, no otherwise
than fire upon things dry or greasy, whenas they are brought very near
thereunto. Nay, the mischief was yet greater; for that not only did
converse and consortion with the sick give to the sound infection of
cause of common death, but the mere touching of the clothes or of
whatsoever other thing had been touched or used of the sick appeared
of itself to communicate the malady to the toucher. A marvellous thing
to hear is that which I have to tell and one which, had it not been
seen of many men's eyes and of mine own, I had scarce dared credit,
much less set down in writing, though I had heard it from one worthy
of belief. I say, then, that of such efficience was the nature of the
pestilence in question in communicating itself from one to another,
that, not only did it pass from man to man, but this, which is much
more, it many times visibly did;--to wit, a thing which had pertained
to a man sick or dead of the aforesaid sickness, being touched by an
animal foreign to the human species, not only infected this latter
with the plague, but in a very brief space of time killed it. Of this
mine own eyes (as hath a little before been said) had one day, among
others, experience on this wise; to wit, that the rags of a poor man,
who had died of the plague, being cast out into the public way, two
hogs came up to them and having first, after their wont, rooted amain
among them with their snouts, took them in their mouths and tossed
them about their jaws; then, in a little while, after turning round
and round, they both, as if they had taken poison, fell down dead upon
the rags with which they had in an ill hour intermeddled.
[Footnote 5: Syn. help, remedy.]
[Footnote 6: _Accidente_, what a modern physician would call
"complication." "Symptom" does not express the whole meaning of the
Italian word.]
From these things and many others like unto them or yet stranger
divers fears and conceits were begotten in those who abode alive,
which well nigh all tended to a very barbarous conclusion, namely, to
shun and flee from the sick and all that pertained to them, and thus
doing, each thought to secure immunity for himself. Some there were
who conceived that to live moderately and keep oneself from all excess
was the best defence against such a danger; wherefore, making up their
company, they lived removed from every other and shut themselves up in
those houses where none had been sick and where living was best; and
there, using very temperately of the most delicate viands and the
finest wines and eschewing all incontinence, they abode with music and
such other diversions as they might have, never suffering themselves
to speak with any nor choosing to hear any news from without of death
or sick folk. Others, inclining to the contrary opinion, maintained
that to carouse and make merry and go about singing and frolicking and
satisfy the appetite in everything possible and laugh and scoff at
whatsoever befell was a very certain remedy for such an ill. That
which they said they put in practice as best they might, going about
day and night, now to this tavern, now to that, drinking without stint
or measure; and on this wise they did yet more freely in other folk's
houses, so but they scented there aught that liked or tempted them, as
they might lightly do, for that every one--as he were to live no
longer--had abandoned all care of his possessions, as of himself,
wherefore the most part of the houses were become common good and
strangers used them, whenas they happened upon them, like as the very
owner might have done; and with all this bestial preoccupation, they
still shunned the sick to the best of their power.
In this sore affliction and misery of our city, the reverend authority
of the laws, both human and divine, was all in a manner dissolved and
fallen into decay, for [lack of] the ministers and executors thereof,
who, like other men, were all either dead or sick or else left so
destitute of followers that they were unable to exercise any office,
wherefore every one had license to do whatsoever pleased him. Many
others held a middle course between the two aforesaid, not straitening
themselves so exactly in the matter of diet as the first neither
allowing themselves such license in drinking and other debauchery as
the second, but using things in sufficiency, according to their
appetites; nor did they seclude themselves, but went about, carrying
in their hands, some flowers, some odoriferous herbs and other some
divers kinds of spiceries,[7] which they set often to their noses,
accounting it an excellent thing to fortify the brain with such
odours, more by token that the air seemed all heavy and attainted with
the stench of the dead bodies and that of the sick and of the remedies
used.
[Footnote 7: _i.e._ aromatic drugs.]
Some were of a more barbarous, though, peradventure, a surer way of
thinking, avouching that there was no remedy against pestilences
better than--no, nor any so good as--to flee before them; wherefore,
moved by this reasoning and recking of nought but themselves, very
many, both men and women, abandoned their own city, their own houses
and homes, their kinsfolk and possessions, and sought the country
seats of others, or, at the least, their own, as if the wrath of God,
being moved to punish the iniquity of mankind, would not proceed to do
so wheresoever they might be, but would content itself with afflicting
those only who were found within the walls of their city, or as if
they were persuaded that no person was to remain therein and that its
last hour was come. And albeit these, who opined thus variously, died
not all, yet neither did they all escape; nay, many of each way of
thinking and in every place sickened of the plague and languished on
all sides, well nigh abandoned, having themselves, what while they
were whole, set the example to those who abode in health.
Indeed, leaving be that townsman avoided townsman and that well nigh
no neighbour took thought unto other and that kinsfolk seldom or never
visited one another and held no converse together save from afar, this
tribulation had stricken such terror to the hearts of all, men and
women alike, that brother forsook brother, uncle nephew and sister
brother and oftentimes wife husband; nay (what is yet more
extraordinary and well nigh incredible) fathers and mothers refused to
visit or tend their very children, as they had not been theirs. By
reason whereof there remained unto those (and the number of them, both
males and females, was incalculable) who fell sick, none other succour
than that which they owed either to the charity of friends (and of
these there were few) or the greed of servants, who tended them,
allured by high and extravagant wage; albeit, for all this, these
latter were not grown many, and those men and women of mean
understanding and for the most part unused to such offices, who served
for well nigh nought but to reach things called for by the sick or to
note when they died; and in the doing of these services many of them
perished with their gain.
Of this abandonment of the sick by neighbours, kinsfolk and friends
and of the scarcity of servants arose an usage before well nigh
unheard, to wit, that no woman, how fair or lovesome or well-born
soever she might be, once fallen sick, recked aught of having a man to
tend her, whatever he might be, or young or old, and without any shame
discovered to him every part of her body, no otherwise than she would
have done to a woman, so but the necessity of her sickness required
it; the which belike, in those who recovered, was the occasion of
lesser modesty in time to come. Moreover, there ensued of this
abandonment the death of many who peradventure, had they been
succoured, would have escaped alive; wherefore, as well for the lack
of the opportune services which the sick availed not to have as for
the virulence of the plague, such was the multitude of those who died
in the city by day and by night that it was an astonishment to hear
tell thereof, much more to see it; and thence, as it were of
necessity, there sprang up among those who abode alive things contrary
to the pristine manners of the townsfolk.
It was then (even as we yet see it used) a custom that the kinswomen
and she-neighbours of the dead should assemble in his house and there
condole with those who more nearly pertained unto him, whilst his
neighbours and many other citizens foregathered with his next of kin
before his house, whither, according to the dead man's quality, came
the clergy, and he with funeral pomp of chants and candles was borne
on the shoulders of his peers to the church chosen by himself before
his death; which usages, after the virulence of the plague began to
increase, were either altogether or for the most part laid aside, and
other and strange customs sprang up in their stead. For that, not only
did folk die without having a multitude of women about them, but many
there were who departed this life without witness and few indeed were
they to whom the pious plaints and bitter tears of their kinsfolk were
vouchsafed; nay, in lieu of these things there obtained, for the most
part, laughter and jests and gibes and feasting and merrymaking in
company; which usance women, laying aside womanly pitifulness, had
right well learned for their own safety.
Few, again, were they whose bodies were accompanied to the church by
more than half a score or a dozen of their neighbours, and of these no
worshipful and illustrious citizens, but a sort of blood-suckers,
sprung from the dregs of the people, who styled themselves
_pickmen_[8] and did such offices for hire, shouldered the bier and
bore it with hurried steps, not to that church which the dead man had
chosen before his death, but most times to the nearest, behind five or
six[9] priests, with little light[10] and whiles none at all, which
latter, with the aid of the said pickmen, thrust him into what grave
soever they first found unoccupied, without troubling themselves with
too long or too formal a service.
[Footnote 8: _i.e._ gravediggers (_becchini_).]
[Footnote 9: Lit. _four_ or six. This is the equivalent Italian
idiom.]
[Footnote 10: _i.e._ but few tapers.]
The condition of the common people (and belike, in great part, of the
middle class also) was yet more pitiable to behold, for that these,
for the most part retained by hope[11] or poverty in their houses and
abiding in their own quarters, sickened by the thousand daily and
being altogether untended and unsuccoured, died well nigh all without
recourse. Many breathed their last in the open street, whilst other
many, for all they died in their houses, made it known to the
neighbours that they were dead rather by the stench of their rotting
bodies than otherwise; and of these and others who died all about the
whole city was full. For the most part one same usance was observed by
the neighbours, moved more by fear lest the corruption of the dead
bodies should imperil themselves than by any charity they had for the
departed; to wit, that either with their own hands or with the aid of
certain bearers, whenas they might have any, they brought the bodies
of those who had died forth of their houses and laid them before their
doors, where, especially in the morning, those who went about might
see corpses without number; then they fetched biers and some, in
default thereof, they laid upon some board or other. Nor was it only
one bier that carried two or three corpses, nor did this happen but
once; nay, many might have been counted which contained husband and
wife, two or three brothers, father and son or the like. And an
infinite number of times it befell that, two priests going with one
cross for some one, three or four biers, borne by bearers, ranged
themselves behind the latter,[12] and whereas the priests thought to
have but one dead man to bury, they had six or eight, and whiles more.
Nor therefore were the dead honoured with aught of tears or candles or
funeral train; nay, the thing was come to such a pass that folk recked
no more of men that died than nowadays they would of goats; whereby it
very manifestly appeared that that which the natural course of things
had not availed, by dint of small and infrequent harms, to teach the
wise to endure with patience, the very greatness of their ills had
brought even the simple to expect and make no account of. The
consecrated ground sufficing not to the burial of the vast multitude
of corpses aforesaid, which daily and well nigh hourly came carried in
crowds to every church,--especially if it were sought to give each his
own place, according to ancient usance,--there were made throughout
the churchyards, after every other part was full, vast trenches,
wherein those who came after were laid by the hundred and being heaped
up therein by layers, as goods are stowed aboard ship, were covered
with a little earth, till such time as they reached the top of the
trench.
[Footnote 11: _i.e._ expectation of gain from acting as tenders of the
sick, gravediggers, etc. The word _speranza_ is, however, constantly
used by Dante and his follower Boccaccio in the contrary sense of
"fear," and may be so meant in the present instance.]
[Footnote 12: _i.e._ the cross.]
Moreover,--not to go longer searching out and recalling every
particular of our past miseries, as they befell throughout the
city,--I say that, whilst so sinister a time prevailed in the latter,
on no wise therefor was the surrounding country spared, wherein,
(letting be the castles,[13] which in their littleness[14] were like
unto the city,) throughout the scattered villages and in the fields,
the poor and miserable husbandmen and their families, without succour
of physician or aid of servitor, died, not like men, but well nigh
like beasts, by the ways or in their tillages or about the houses,
indifferently by day and night. By reason whereof, growing lax like
the townsfolk in their manners and customs, they recked not of any
thing or business of theirs; nay, all, as if they looked for death
that very day, studied with all their wit, not to help to maturity the
future produce of their cattle and their fields and the fruits of
their own past toils, but to consume those which were ready to hand.
Thus it came to pass that the oxen, the asses, the sheep, the goats,
the swine, the fowls, nay, the very dogs, so faithful to mankind,
being driven forth of their own houses, went straying at their
pleasure about the fields, where the very corn was abandoned, without
being cut, much less gathered in; and many, well nigh like reasonable
creatures, after grazing all day, returned at night, glutted, to their
houses, without the constraint of any herdsman.
[Footnote 13: _i.e._ walled burghs.]
[Footnote 14: _i.e._ in miniature.]
To leave the country and return to the city, what more can be said
save that such and so great was the cruelty of heaven (and in part,
peradventure, that of men) that, between March and the following July,
what with the virulence of that pestiferous sickness and the number of
sick folk ill tended or forsaken in their need, through the
fearfulness of those who were whole, it is believed for certain that
upward of an hundred thousand human beings perished within the walls
of the city of Florence, which, peradventure, before the advent of
that death-dealing calamity, had not been accounted to hold so many?
Alas, how many great palaces, how many goodly houses, how many noble
mansions, once full of families, of lords and of ladies, abode empty
even to the meanest servant! How many memorable families, how many
ample heritages, how many famous fortunes were seen to remain without
lawful heir! How many valiant men, how many fair ladies, how many
sprightly youths, whom, not others only, but Galen, Hippocrates or
Æsculapius themselves would have judged most hale, breakfasted in the
morning with their kinsfolk, comrades and friends and that same night
supped with their ancestors in the other world!
I am myself weary of going wandering so long among such miseries;
wherefore, purposing henceforth to leave such part thereof as I can
fitly, I say that,--our city being at this pass, well nigh void of
inhabitants,--it chanced (as I afterward heard from a person worthy of
credit) that there foregathered in the venerable church of Santa Maria
Novella, one Tuesday morning when there was well nigh none else there,
seven young ladies, all knit one to another by friendship or
neighbourhood or kinship, who had heard divine service in mourning
attire, as sorted with such a season. Not one of them had passed her
eight-and-twentieth year nor was less than eighteen years old, and
each was discreet and of noble blood, fair of favour and well-mannered
and full of honest sprightliness. The names of these ladies I would in
proper terms set out, did not just cause forbid me, to wit, that I
would not have it possible that, in time to come, any of them should
take shame by reason of the things hereinafter related as being told
or hearkened by them, the laws of disport being nowadays somewhat
straitened, which at that time, for the reasons above shown, were of
the largest, not only for persons of their years, but for those of a
much riper age; nor yet would I give occasion to the envious, who are
still ready to carp at every praiseworthy life, on anywise to
disparage the fair fame of these honourable ladies with unseemly talk.
Wherefore, so that which each saith may hereafterward be apprehended
without confusion, I purpose to denominate them by names altogether or
in part sorting with each one's quality.[15] The first of them and
her of ripest age I shall call Pampinea, the second Fiammetta, the
third Filomena and the fourth Emilia. To the fifth we will give the
name of Lauretta, to the sixth that of Neifile and the last, not
without cause, we will style Elisa.[16] These, then, not drawn of any
set purpose, but foregathering by chance in a corner of the church,
having seated themselves in a ring, after divers sighs, let be the
saying of paternosters and fell to devising with one another many and
various things of the nature of the time. After awhile, the others
being silent, Pampinea proceeded to speak thus:
[Footnote 15: Or character (_qualità_).]
[Footnote 16: I know of no explanation of these names by the
commentators, who seem, indeed, after the manner of their kind, to
have generally confined themselves to the elaborate illustration and
elucidation (or rather, alas! too often, obscuration) of passages
already perfectly plain, leaving the difficult passages for the most
part untouched. The following is the best I can make of them.
_Pampinea_ appears to be formed from the Greek [Greek: pan], all, and
[Greek: pinuô], I advise, admonish or inform, and to mean all-advising
or admonishing, which would agree well enough with the character of
Pampinea, who is represented as the eldest and sagest of the female
personages of the Decameron and as taking the lead in everything.
_Fiammetta_ is the name by which Boccaccio designates his mistress,
the Princess Maria of Naples (the lady for whom he cherished "the very
high and noble passion" of which he speaks in his Proem), in his
earlier opuscule, the "Elégia di Madonna Fiammetta," describing, in
her name, the torments of separation from the beloved. In this work he
speaks of himself under the name of Pamfilo (Gr. [Greek: pan], all,
and [Greek: phileô], I love, _i.e._ the all-loving or the passionate
lover), and it is probable, therefore, that under these names he
intended to introduce his royal ladylove and himself in the present
work. _Filomena_ (Italian form of Philomela, a nightingale, Greek
[Greek: philos] loving, and [Greek: melos], melody, song, _i.e._
song-loving) is perhaps so styled for her love of music, and
_Emilia's_ character, as it appears in the course of the work,
justifies the derivation of her name from the Greek [Greek: aimylios],
pleasing, engaging in manners and behaviour, cajoling. _Lauretta_
Boccaccio probably intends us to look upon as a learned lady, if, as
we may suppose, her name is a corruption of _laureata_,
laurel-crowned; whilst _Neifile's_ name (Greek [Greek: neios] [[Greek:
neos]] new, and [Greek: phileô], I love, _i.e._ novelty-loving) stamps
her as being of a somewhat curious disposition, eager "to tell or to
hear some new thing." The name _Elisa_ is not so easily to be
explained as the others; possibly it was intended by the author as a
reminiscence of Dido, to whom the name (which is by some authorities
explained to mean "Godlike," from a Hebrew root) is said to have been
given "quòd plurima supra animi muliebris fortitudinem gesserit." It
does not, however, appear that there was in Elisa's character or life
anything to justify the implied comparison.]
"Dear my ladies, you may, like myself, have many times heard that
whoso honestly useth his right doth no one wrong; and it is the
natural right of every one who is born here below to succour, keep and
defend his own life as best he may, and in so far is this allowed that
it hath happened whiles that, for the preservation thereof, men have
been slain without any fault. If this much be conceded of the laws,
which have in view the well-being of all mortals, how much more is it
lawful for us and whatsoever other, without offence unto any, to take
such means as we may for the preservation of our lives? As often as I
consider our fashions of this morning and those of many other mornings
past and bethink me what and what manner discourses are ours, I feel,
and you likewise must feel, that each of us is in fear for herself.
Nor do I anywise wonder at this; but I wonder exceedingly, considering
that we all have a woman's wit, that we take no steps to provide
ourselves against that which each of us justly feareth. We abide here,
to my seeming, no otherwise than as if we would or should be witness
of how many dead bodies are brought hither for burial or to hearken if
the friars of the place, whose number is come well nigh to nought,
chant their offices at the due hours or by our apparel to show forth
unto whosoever appeareth here the nature and extent of our distresses.
If we depart hence, we either see dead bodies or sick persons carried
about or those, whom for their misdeeds the authority of the public
laws whilere condemned to exile, overrun the whole place with unseemly
excesses, as if scoffing at the laws, for that they know the executors
thereof to be either dead or sick; whilst the dregs of our city,
fattened with our blood, style themselves _pickmen_ and ruffle it
everywhere in mockery of us, riding and running all about and flouting
us with our distresses in ribald songs. We hear nothing here but 'Such
an one is dead' or 'Such an one is at the point of death'; and were
there any to make them, we should hear dolorous lamentations on all
sides. And if we return to our houses, I know not if it is with you as
with me, but, for my part, when I find none left therein of a great
household, save my serving-maid, I wax fearful and feel every hair of
my body stand on end; and wherever I go or abide about the house,
meseemeth I see the shades of those who are departed and who wear not
those countenances that I was used to see, but terrify me with a
horrid aspect, I know not whence newly come to them.
By reason of these things I feel myself alike ill at ease here and
abroad and at home, more by token that meseemeth none, who hath, as we
have, the power and whither to go, is left here, other than ourselves;
or if any such there be, I have many a time both heard and perceived
that, without making any distinction between things lawful and
unlawful, so but appetite move them, whether alone or in company, both
day and night, they do that which affordeth them most delight. Nor is
it the laity alone who do thus; nay, even those who are shut in the
monasteries, persuading themselves that what befitteth and is lawful
to others alike sortable and unforbidden unto them,[17] have broken
the laws of obedience and giving themselves to carnal delights,
thinking thus to escape, are grown lewd and dissolute. If thus, then,
it be, as is manifestly to be seen, what do we here? What look we for?
What dream we? Why are we more sluggish and slower to provide for our
safety than all the rest of the townsfolk? Deem we ourselves of less
price than others, or do we hold our life to be bounden in our bodies
with a stronger chain than is theirs and that therefore we need reck
nothing of aught that hath power to harm it? We err, we are deceived;
what folly is ours, if we think thus! As often as we choose to call to
mind the number and quality of the youths and ladies overborne of this
cruel pestilence, we may see a most manifest proof thereof.
[Footnote 17: This phrase may also be read "persuading themselves that
that (_i.e._ their breach of the laws of obedience, etc.) beseemeth
them and is forbidden only to others" (_faccendosi a credere che
quello a lor si convenga e non si disdica che all' altre_); but the
reading in the text appears more in harmony with the general sense and
is indeed indicated by the punctuation of the Giunta Edition of 1527,
which I generally follow in case of doubt.]
Wherefore, in order that we may not, through wilfulness or
nonchalance, fall into that wherefrom we may, peradventure, an we but
will, by some means or other escape, I know not if it seem to you as
it doth to me, but methinketh it were excellently well done that we,
such as we are, depart this city, as many have done before us, and
eschewing, as we would death, the dishonourable example of others,
betake ourselves quietly to our places in the country, whereof each of
us hath great plenty, and there take such diversion, such delight and
such pleasance as we may, without anywise overpassing the bounds of
reason. There may we hear the small birds sing, there may we see the
hills and plains clad all in green and the fields full of corn wave
even as doth the sea; there may we see trees, a thousand sorts, and
there is the face of heaven more open to view, the which, angered
against us though it be, nevertheless denieth not unto us its eternal
beauties, far goodlier to look upon than the empty walls of our city.
Moreover, there is the air far fresher[18] and there at this season is
more plenty of that which behoveth unto life and less is the sum of
annoys, for that, albeit the husbandmen die there, even as do the
townsfolk here, the displeasance is there the less, insomuch as houses
and inhabitants are rarer than in the city.
[Footnote 18: Syn. cooler.]
Here, on the other hand, if I deem aright, we abandon no one; nay, we
may far rather say with truth that we ourselves are abandoned, seeing
that our kinsfolk, either dying or fleeing from death, have left us
alone in this great tribulation, as it were we pertained not unto
them. No blame can therefore befall the ensuing of this counsel; nay,
dolour and chagrin and belike death may betide us, an we ensue it not.
Wherefore, an it please you, methinketh we should do well to take our
maids and letting follow after us with the necessary gear, sojourn
to-day in this place and to-morrow in that, taking such pleasance and
diversion as the season may afford, and on this wise abide till such
time (an we be not earlier overtaken of death) as we shall see what
issue Heaven reserveth unto these things. And I would remind you that
it is no more forbidden unto us honourably to depart than it is unto
many others of our sex to abide in dishonour."
The other ladies, having hearkened to Pampinea, not only commended her
counsel, but, eager to follow it, had already begun to devise more
particularly among themselves of the manner, as if, arising from
their session there, they were to set off out of hand. But Filomena,
who was exceeding discreet, said, "Ladies, albeit that which Pampinea
allegeth is excellently well said, yet is there no occasion for
running, as meseemeth you would do. Remember that we are all women and
none of us is child enough not to know how [little] reasonable women
are among themselves and how [ill], without some man's guidance, they
know how to order themselves. We are fickle, wilful, suspicious,
faint-hearted and timorous, for which reasons I misdoubt me sore, an
we take not some other guidance than our own, that our company will be
far too soon dissolved and with less honour to ourselves than were
seemly; wherefore we should do well to provide ourselves, ere we
begin."
"Verily," answered Elisa, "men are the head of women, and without
their ordinance seldom cometh any emprise of ours to good end; but how
may we come by these men? There is none of us but knoweth that of her
kinsmen the most part are dead and those who abide alive are all gone
fleeing that which we seek to flee, in divers companies, some here and
some there, without our knowing where, and to invite strangers would
not be seemly, seeing that, if we would endeavour after our welfare,
it behoveth us find a means of so ordering ourselves that, wherever we
go for diversion and repose, scandal nor annoy may ensue thereof."
Whilst such discourse was toward between the ladies, behold, there
entered the church three young men,--yet not so young that the age of
the youngest of them was less than five-and-twenty years,--in whom
neither the perversity of the time nor loss of friends and kinsfolk,
no, nor fear for themselves had availed to cool, much less to quench,
the fire of love. Of these one was called Pamfilo,[19] another
Filostrato[20] and the third Dioneo,[21] all very agreeable and
well-bred, and they went seeking, for their supreme solace, in such a
perturbation of things, to see their mistresses, who, as it chanced,
were all three among the seven aforesaid; whilst certain of the other
ladies were near kinswomen of one or other of the young men.
[Footnote 19: See ante, p. 8, note.]
[Footnote 20: _Filostrato_, Greek [Greek: philos], loving, and [Greek:
stratos], army, _met._ strife, war, _i.e._ one who loves strife. This
name appears to be a reminiscence of Boccaccio's poem (_Il
Filostrato_, well known through its translation by Chaucer and the
Senechal d'Anjou) upon the subject of the loves of Troilus and
Cressida and to be in this instance used by him as a synonym for an
unhappy lover, whom no rebuffs, no treachery can divert from his
ill-starred passion. Such a lover may well be said to be in love with
strife, and that the Filostrato of the Decameron sufficiently answers
to this description we learn later on from his own lips.]
[Footnote 21: _Dioneo_, a name probably coined from the Greek [Greek:
Diônê], one of the _agnomina_ of Venus (properly her mother's name)
and intended to denote the amorous temperament of his personage, to
which, indeed, the erotic character of most of the stories told by him
bears sufficient witness.]
No sooner had their eyes fallen on the ladies than they were
themselves espied of them; whereupon quoth Pampinea, smiling, "See,
fortune is favourable to our beginnings and hath thrown in our way
young men of worth and discretion, who will gladly be to us both
guides and servitors, an we disdain not to accept of them in that
capacity." But Neifile, whose face was grown all vermeil for
shamefastness, for that it was she who was beloved of one of the young
men, said, "For God's sake, Pampinea, look what thou sayest! I
acknowledge most frankly that there can be nought but all good said of
which one soever of them and I hold them sufficient unto a much
greater thing than this, even as I opine that they would bear, not
only ourselves, but far fairer and nobler dames than we, good and
honourable company. But, for that it is a very manifest thing that
they are enamoured of certain of us who are here, I fear lest, without
our fault or theirs, scandal and blame ensue thereof, if we carry them
with us." Quoth Filomena, "That skilleth nought; so but I live
honestly and conscience prick me not of aught, let who will speak to
the contrary; God and the truth will take up arms for me. Wherefore,
if they be disposed to come, verily we may say with Pampinea that
fortune is favourable to our going."
The other ladies, hearing her speak thus absolutely, not only held
their peace, but all with one accord agreed that the young men should
be called and acquainted with their project and bidden to be pleased
bear them company in their expedition. Accordingly, without more
words, Pampinea, who was knit by kinship to one of them, rising to her
feet, made for the three young men, who stood fast, looking upon them,
and saluting them with a cheerful countenance, discovered to them
their intent and prayed them, on behalf of herself and her companions,
that they would be pleased to bear them company in a pure and
brotherly spirit. The young men at the first thought themselves
bantered, but, seeing that the lady spoke in good earnest, they made
answer joyfully that they were ready, and without losing time about
the matter, forthright took order for that which they had to do
against departure.
On the following morning, Wednesday to wit, towards break of day,
having let orderly make ready all things needful and despatched them
in advance whereas they purposed to go,[22] the ladies, with certain
of their waiting-women, and the three young men, with as many of their
serving-men, departing Florence, set out upon their way; nor had they
gone more than two short miles from the city, when they came to the
place fore-appointed of them, which was situate on a little hill,
somewhat withdrawn on every side from the high way and full of various
shrubs and plants, all green of leafage and pleasant to behold. On the
summit of this hill was a palace, with a goodly and great courtyard in
its midst and galleries[23] and saloons and bedchambers, each in
itself most fair and adorned and notable with jocund paintings, with
lawns and grassplots round about and wonder-goodly gardens and wells
of very cold water and cellars full of wines of price, things more apt
unto curious drinkers than unto sober and modest ladies. The new
comers, to their no little pleasure, found the place all swept and the
beds made in the chambers and every thing full of such flowers as
might be had at that season and strewn with rushes.
[Footnote 22: _e prima mandato là dove_, etc. This passage is obscure
and may be read to mean "and having first despatched [a messenger] (or
sent [word]) whereas," etc. I think, however, that _mandato_ is a
copyist's error for _mandata_, in which case the meaning would be as
in the text.]
[Footnote 23: Or balconies (_loggie_).]
As soon as they had seated themselves, Dioneo, who was the merriest
springald in the world and full of quips and cranks, said, "Ladies,
your wit, rather than our foresight, hath guided us hither, and I know
not what you purpose to do with your cares; as for my own, I left them
within the city gates, whenas I issued thence with you awhile agone;
wherefore, do you either address yourselves to make merry and laugh
and sing together with me (in so far, I mean, as pertaineth to your
dignity) or give me leave to go back for my cares and abide in the
afflicted city." Whereto Pampinea, no otherwise than as if in like
manner she had banished all her own cares, answered blithely, "Dioneo,
thou sayst well; it behoveth us live merrily, nor hath any other
occasion caused us flee from yonder miseries. But, for that things
which are without measure may not long endure, I, who began the
discourse wherethrough this so goodly company came to be made, taking
thought for the continuance of our gladness, hold it of necessity that
we appoint some one to be principal among us, whom we may honour and
obey as chief and whose especial care it shall be to dispose us to
live joyously. And in order that each in turn may prove the burden of
solicitude, together with the pleasure of headship; and that, the
chief being thus drawn, in turn, from one and the other sex, there may
be no cause for jealousy, as might happen, were any excluded from the
sovranty, I say that unto each be attributed the burden and the honour
for one day. Let who is to be our first chief be at the election of us
all. For who shall follow, be it he or she whom it shall please the
governor of the day to appoint, whenas the hour of vespers draweth
near, and let each in turn, at his or her discretion, order and
dispose of the place and manner wherein we are to live, for such time
as his or her seignory shall endure."
Pampinea's words pleased mightily, and with one voice they elected her
chief of the first day; whereupon Filomena, running nimbly to a
laurel-tree--for that she had many a time heard speak of the honour
due to the leaves of this plant and how worship-worth they made whoso
was deservedly crowned withal--and plucking divers sprays therefrom,
made her thereof a goodly and honourable wreath, which, being set upon
her head, was thenceforth, what while their company lasted, a manifest
sign unto every other of the royal office and seignory.
Pampinea, being made queen, commanded that every one should be silent;
then, calling the serving-men of the three young gentlemen and her own
and the other ladies' women, who were four in number, before herself
and all being silent, she spoke thus: "In order that I may set you a
first example, by which, proceeding from good to better, our company
may live and last in order and pleasance and without reproach so long
as it is agreeable to us, I constitute, firstly, Parmeno, Dioneo's
servant, my seneschal and commit unto him the care and ordinance of
all our household and [especially] that which pertaineth to the
service of the saloon. Sirisco, Pamfilo's servant, I will shall be
our purveyor and treasurer and ensue the commandments of Parmeno.
Tindaro shall look to the service of Filostrato and the other two
gentlemen in their bed chambers, what time the others, being occupied
about their respective offices, cannot attend thereto. Misia, my
woman, and Filomena's Licisca shall still abide in the kitchen and
there diligently prepare such viands as shall be appointed them of
Parmeno. Lauretta's Chimera and Fiammetta's Stratilia it is our
pleasure shall occupy themselves with the ordinance of the ladies'
chambers and the cleanliness of the places where we shall abide; and
we will and command all and several, as they hold our favour dear, to
have a care that, whithersoever they go or whencesoever they return
and whatsoever they hear or see, they bring us from without no news
other than joyous." These orders summarily given and commended of all,
Pampinea, rising blithely to her feet, said, "Here be gardens, here be
meadows, here be store of other delectable places, wherein let each go
a-pleasuring at will; and when tierce[24] soundeth, let all be here,
so we may eat in the cool."
[Footnote 24: _i.e._ Nine o'clock a.m. Boccaccio's habit of measuring
time by the canonical hours has been a sore stumbling-block to the
ordinary English and French translator, who is generally terribly at
sea as to his meaning, inclining to render _tierce_ three, _sexte_ six
o'clock and _none_ noon and making shots of the same wild kind at the
other hours. The monasterial rule (which before the general
introduction of clocks was commonly followed by the mediæval public in
the computation of time) divided the twenty-four hours of the day and
night into seven parts (six of three hours each and one of six), the
inception of which was denoted by the sound of the bells that summoned
the clergy to the performance of the seven canonical offices _i.e._
_Matins_ at 3 a.m., _Prime_ at 6 a.m., _Tierce_ at 9 a.m., _Sexte_ or
Noonsong at noon, _None_ at 3 p.m., _Vespers_ or Evensong at 6 p.m.
and _Complines_ or Nightsong at 9 p.m., and at the same time served
the laity as a clock.]
The merry company, being thus dismissed by the new queen, went
straying with slow steps, young men and fair ladies together, about a
garden, devising blithely and diverting themselves with weaving goodly
garlands of various leaves and carolling amorously. After they had
abidden there such time as had been appointed them of the queen, they
returned to the house, where they found that Parmeno had made a
diligent beginning with his office, for that, entering a saloon on the
ground floor, they saw there the tables laid with the whitest of
cloths and beakers that seemed of silver and everything covered with
the flowers of the broom; whereupon, having washed their hands, they
all, by command of the queen, seated themselves according to Parmeno's
ordinance. Then came viands delicately drest and choicest wines were
proffered and the three serving-men, without more, quietly tended the
tables. All, being gladdened by these things, for that they were fair
and orderly done, ate joyously and with store of merry talk, and the
tables being cleared away,[25] the queen bade bring instruments of
music, for that all the ladies knew how to dance, as also the young
men, and some of them could both play and sing excellent well.
Accordingly, by her commandment, Dioneo took a lute and Fiammetta a
viol and began softly to sound a dance; whereupon the queen and the
other ladies, together with the other two young men, having sent the
serving-men to eat, struck up a round and began with a slow pace to
dance a brawl; which ended, they fell to singing quaint and merry
ditties. On this wise they abode till it seemed to the queen time to
go to sleep,[26] and she accordingly dismissed them all; whereupon the
young men retired to their chambers, which were withdrawn from the
ladies' lodging, and finding them with the beds well made and as full
of flowers as the saloon, put off their clothes and betook themselves
to rest, whilst the ladies, on their part, did likewise.
[Footnote 25: The table of Boccaccio's time was a mere board upon
trestles, which when not in actual use, was stowed away, for room's
sake, against the wall.]
[Footnote 26: _i.e._ to take the siesta or midday nap common in hot
countries.]
None[27] had not long sounded when the queen, arising, made all the
other ladies arise, and on like wise the three young men, alleging
overmuch sleep to be harmful by day; and so they betook themselves to
a little meadow, where the grass grew green and high nor there had the
sun power on any side. There, feeling the waftings of a gentle breeze,
they all, as their queen willed it, seated themselves in a ring on the
green grass; while she bespoke them thus, "As ye see, the sun is high
and the heat great, nor is aught heard save the crickets yonder among
the olives; wherefore it were doubtless folly to go anywhither at this
present. Here is the sojourn fair and cool, and here, as you see, are
chess and tables,[28] and each can divert himself as is most to his
mind. But, an my counsel be followed in this, we shall pass away this
sultry part of the day, not in gaming,--wherein the mind of one of the
players must of necessity be troubled, without any great pleasure of
the other or of those who look on,--but in telling stories, which, one
telling, may afford diversion to all the company who hearken; nor
shall we have made an end of telling each his story but the sun will
have declined and the heat be abated, and we can then go a-pleasuring
whereas it may be most agreeable to us. Wherefore, if this that I say
please you, (for I am disposed to follow your pleasure therein,) let
us do it; and if it please you not, let each until the hour of vespers
do what most liketh him." Ladies and men alike all approved the
story-telling, whereupon, "Then," said the queen, "since this pleaseth
you, I will that this first day each be free to tell of such matters
as are most to his liking." Then, turning to Pamfilo, who sat on her
right hand, she smilingly bade him give beginning to the story-telling
with one of his; and he, hearing the commandment, forthright began
thus, whilst all gave ear to him.
[Footnote 27: _i.e._ three o'clock p.m.]
[Footnote 28: _i.e._ backgammon.]