[Day the First]
MASTER CIAPPELLETTO DUPETH A HOLY FRIAR WITH A FALSE
CONFESSION AND DIETH; AND HAVING BEEN IN HIS LIFETIME THE
WORST OF MEN, HE IS, AFTER HIS DEATH, REPUTED A SAINT AND
CALLED SAINT CIAPPELLETTO.
"It is a seemly thing, dearest ladies, that whatsoever a man doth, he
give it beginning from the holy and admirable name of Him who is the
maker of all things. Wherefore, it behoving me, as the first, to give
commencement to our story-telling, I purpose to begin with one of His
marvels, to the end that, this being heard, our hope in Him, as in a
thing immutable, may be confirmed and His name be ever praised of us.
It is manifest that, like as things temporal are all transitory and
mortal, even so both within and without are they full of annoy and
anguish and travail and subject to infinite perils, against which it
is indubitable that we, who live enmingled therein and who are indeed
part and parcel thereof, might avail neither to endure nor to defend
ourselves, except God's especial grace lent us strength and foresight;
which latter, it is not to be believed, descendeth unto us and upon us
by any merit of our own, but of the proper motion of His own benignity
and the efficacy of the prayers of those who were mortals even as we
are and having diligently ensued His commandments, what while they
were on life, are now with Him become eternal and blessed and unto
whom we,--belike not daring to address ourselves unto the proper
presence of so august a judge,--proffer our petitions of the things
which we deem needful unto ourselves, as unto advocates[29] informed
by experience of our frailty. And this more we discern in Him, full as
He is of compassionate liberality towards us, that, whereas it
chanceth whiles (the keenness of mortal eyes availing not in any wise
to penetrate the secrets of the Divine intent), that we peradventure,
beguiled by report, make such an one our advocate unto His
majesty, who is outcast from His presence with an eternal
banishment,--nevertheless He, from whom nothing is hidden, having
regard rather to the purity of the suppliant's intent than to his
ignorance or to the reprobate estate of him whose intercession be
invoketh, giveth ear unto those who pray unto the latter, as if he
were in very deed blessed in His aspect. The which will manifestly
appear from the story which I purpose to relate; I say manifestly,
ensuing, not the judgment of God, but that of men.
[Footnote 29: Or procurators.]
It is told, then, that Musciatto Franzesi,[30] being from a very rich
and considerable merchant in France become a knight and it behoving
him thereupon go into Tuscany with Messire Charles Sansterre,[31]
brother to the king of France,[32] who had been required and bidden
thither by Pope Boniface,[33] found his affairs in one part and
another sore embroiled, (as those of merchants most times are,) and
was unable lightly or promptly to disentangle them; wherefore he
bethought himself to commit them unto divers persons and made shift
for all, save only he abode in doubt whom he might leave sufficient to
the recovery of the credits he had given to certain Burgundians. The
cause of his doubt was that he knew the Burgundians to be litigious,
quarrelsome fellows, ill-conditioned and disloyal, and could not call
one to mind, in whom he might put any trust, curst enough to cope with
their perversity. After long consideration of the matter, there came
to his memory a certain Master Ciapperello da Prato, who came often to
his house in Paris and whom, for that he was little of person and
mighty nice in his dress, the French, knowing not what Cepparello[34]
meant and thinking it be the same with Cappello, to wit, in their
vernacular, Chaplet, called him, not Cappello, but Ciappelletto,[35]
and accordingly as Ciappelletto he was known everywhere, whilst few
knew him for Master Ciapperello.
[Footnote 30: A Florentine merchant settled in France; he had great
influence over Philippe le Bel and made use of the royal favour to
enrich himself by means of monopolies granted at the expense of his
compatriots.]
[Footnote 31: Charles, Comte de Valois et d'Alençon.]
[Footnote 32: Philippe le Bel, A.D. 1268-1314.]
[Footnote 33: The Eighth.]
[Footnote 34: Sic. _Cepparello_ means a log or stump. Ciapperello is
apparently a dialectic variant of the same word.]
[Footnote 35: Diminutive of Cappello. This passage is obscure and most
likely corrupt. Boccaccio probably meant to write "hat" instead of
"chaplet" (_ghirlanda_), as the meaning of _cappello_, chaplet
(diminutive of Old English _chapel_, a hat,) being the meaning of
_ciappelletto_ (properly _cappelletto_).]
Now this said Ciappelletto was of this manner life, that, being a
scrivener, he thought very great shame whenas any of his instrument
was found (and indeed he drew few such) other than false; whilst of
the latter[36] he would have drawn as many as might be required of him
and these with a better will by way of gift than any other for a great
wage. False witness he bore with especial delight, required or not
required, and the greatest regard being in those times paid to oaths
in France, as he recked nothing of forswearing himself, he knavishly
gained all the suits concerning which he was called upon to tell the
truth upon his faith. He took inordinate pleasure and was mighty
diligent in stirring up troubles and enmities and scandals between
friends and kinsfolk and whomsoever else, and the greater the
mischiefs he saw ensue thereof, the more he rejoiced. If bidden to
manslaughter or whatsoever other naughty deed, he went about it with a
will, without ever saying nay thereto; and many a time of his proper
choice he had been known to wound men and do them to death with his
own hand. He was a terrible blasphemer of God and the saints, and that
for every trifle, being the most choleric man alive. To church he went
never and all the sacraments thereof he flouted in abominable terms,
as things of no account; whilst, on the other hand, he was still fain
to haunt and use taverns and other lewd places. Of women he was as
fond as dogs of the stick; but in the contrary he delighted more than
any filthy fellow alive. He robbed and pillaged with as much
conscience as a godly man would make oblation to God; he was a very
glutton and a great wine bibber, insomuch that bytimes it wrought him
shameful mischief, and to boot, he was a notorious gamester and a
caster of cogged dice. But why should I enlarge in so many words? He
was belike the worst man that ever was born.[37] His wickedness had
long been upheld by the power and interest of Messer Musciatto, who
had many a time safeguarded him as well from private persons, to whom
he often did a mischief, as from the law, against which he was a
perpetual offender.
[Footnote 36: _i.e._ false instruments.]
[Footnote 37: A "twopence-coloured" sketch of an impossible villain,
drawn with a crudeness unusual in Boccaccio.]
This Master Ciappelletto then, coming to Musciatto's mind, the latter,
who was very well acquainted with his way of life, bethought himself
that he should be such an one as the perversity of the Burgundians
required and accordingly, sending for him, he bespoke him thus:
'Master Ciappelletto, I am, as thou knowest, about altogether to
withdraw hence, and having to do, amongst others, with certain
Burgundians, men full of guile, I know none whom I may leave to
recover my due from them more fitting than thyself, more by token that
thou dost nothing at this present; wherefore, an thou wilt undertake
this, I will e'en procure thee the favour of the Court and give thee
such part as shall be meet of that which thou shalt recover.'
Don Ciappelletto, who was then out of employ and ill provided with the
goods of the world, seeing him who had long been his stay and his
refuge about to depart thence, lost no time in deliberation, but, as
of necessity constrained, replied that he would well. They being come
to an accord, Musciatto departed and Ciappelletto, having gotten his
patron's procuration and letters commendatory from the king, betook
himself into Burgundy, where well nigh none knew him, and there,
contrary to his nature, began courteously and blandly to seek to get
in his payments and do that wherefor he was come thither, as if
reserving choler and violence for a last resort. Dealing thus and
lodging in the house of two Florentines, brothers, who there lent at
usance and who entertained him with great honour for the love of
Messer Musciatto, it chanced that he fell sick, whereupon the two
brothers promptly fetched physicians and servants to tend him and
furnished him with all that behoved unto the recovery of his health.
But every succour was in vain, for that, by the physicians' report,
the good man, who was now old and had lived disorderly, grew daily
worse, as one who had a mortal sickness; wherefore the two brothers
were sore concerned and one day, being pretty near the chamber where
he lay sick, they began to take counsel together, saying one to the
other, 'How shall we do with yonder fellow? We have a sorry bargain on
our hands of his affair, for that to send him forth of our house, thus
sick, were a sore reproach to us and a manifest sign of little wit on
our part, if the folk, who have seen us first receive him and after
let tend and medicine him with such solicitude, should now see him
suddenly put out of our house, sick unto death as he is, without it
being possible for him to have done aught that should displease us. On
the other hand, he hath been so wicked a man that he will never
consent to confess or take any sacrament of the church; and he dying
without confession, no church will receive his body; nay, he will be
cast into a ditch, like a dog. Again, even if he do confess, his sins
are so many and so horrible that the like will come of it, for that
there is nor priest nor friar who can or will absolve him thereof;
wherefore, being unshriven, he will still be cast into the ditches.
Should it happen thus, the people of the city, as well on account of
our trade, which appeareth to them most iniquitous and of which they
missay all day, as of their itch to plunder us, seeing this, will rise
up in riot and cry out, "These Lombard dogs, whom the church refuseth
to receive, are to be suffered here no longer";--and they will run to
our houses and despoil us not only of our good, but may be of our
lives, to boot; wherefore in any case it will go ill with us, if
yonder fellow die.'
Master Ciappelletto, who, as we have said, lay near the place where
the two brothers were in discourse, being quick of hearing, as is most
times the case with the sick, heard what they said of him and calling
them to him, bespoke them thus: 'I will not have you anywise misdoubt
of me nor fear to take any hurt by me. I have heard what you say of me
and am well assured that it would happen even as you say, should
matters pass as you expect; but it shall go otherwise. I have in my
lifetime done God the Lord so many an affront that it will make
neither more nor less, an I do Him yet another at the point of death;
wherefore do you make shift to bring me the holiest and worthiest
friar you may avail to have, if any such there be,[38] and leave the
rest to me, for that I will assuredly order your affairs and mine own
on such wise that all shall go well and you shall have good cause to
be satisfied.'
[Footnote 38: _i.e._ if there be such a thing as a holy and worthy
friar.]
The two brothers, albeit they conceived no great hope of this,
nevertheless betook themselves to a brotherhood of monks and demanded
some holy and learned man to hear the confession of a Lombard who lay
sick in their house. There was given them a venerable brother of holy
and good life and a past master in Holy Writ, a very reverend man, for
whom all the townsfolk had a very great and special regard, and they
carried him to their house; where, coming to the chamber where Master
Ciappelletto lay and seating himself by his side, he began first
tenderly to comfort him and after asked him how long it was since he
had confessed last; whereto Master Ciappelletto, who had never
confessed in his life, answered, 'Father, it hath been my usance to
confess every week once at the least and often more; it is true that,
since I fell sick, to wit, these eight days past, I have not
confessed, such is the annoy that my sickness hath given me.' Quoth
the friar, 'My son, thou hast done well and so must thou do
henceforward. I see, since thou confessest so often, that I shall be
at little pains either of hearing or questioning.' 'Sir,' answered
Master Ciappelletto, 'say not so; I have never confessed so much nor
so often but I would still fain make a general confession of all my
sins that I could call to mind from the day of my birth to that of my
confession; wherefore I pray you, good my father, question me as
punctually of everything, nay, everything, as if I had never
confessed; and consider me not because I am sick, for that I had far
liefer displease this my flesh than, in consulting its ease, do aught
that might be the perdition of my soul, which my Saviour redeemed with
His precious blood.'
These words much pleased the holy man and seemed to him to argue a
well-disposed mind; wherefore, after he had much commended Master
Ciappelletto for that his usance, he asked him if he had ever sinned
by way of lust with any woman. 'Father,' replied Master Ciappelletto,
sighing, 'on this point I am ashamed to tell you the truth, fearing to
sin by way of vainglory.' Quoth the friar, 'Speak in all security, for
never did one sin by telling the truth, whether in confession or
otherwise.' 'Then,' said Master Ciappelletto, 'since you certify me of
this, I will tell you; I am yet a virgin, even as I came forth of my
mother's body.' 'O blessed be thou of God!' cried the monk. 'How well
hast thou done! And doing thus, thou hast the more deserved, inasmuch
as, an thou wouldst, thou hadst more leisure to do the contrary than
we and whatsoever others are limited by any rule.'
After this he asked him if he had ever offended against God in the sin
of gluttony; whereto Master Ciappelletto answered, sighing, Ay had he,
and that many a time; for that, albeit, over and above the Lenten
fasts that are yearly observed of the devout, he had been wont to fast
on bread and water three days at the least in every week,--he had
oftentimes (and especially whenas he had endured any fatigue, either
praying or going a-pilgrimage) drunken the water with as much appetite
and as keen a relish as great drinkers do wine. And many a time he had
longed to have such homely salads of potherbs as women make when they
go into the country; and whiles eating had given him more pleasure
than himseemed it should do to one who fasteth for devotion, as did
he. 'My son,' said the friar, 'these sins are natural and very slight
and I would not therefore have thee burden thy conscience withal more
than behoveth. It happeneth to every man, how devout soever he be,
that, after long fasting, meat seemeth good to him, and after travail,
drink.'
'Alack, father mine,' rejoined Ciappelletto, 'tell me not this to
comfort me; you must know I know that things done for the service of
God should be done sincerely and with an ungrudging mind; and whoso
doth otherwise sinneth.' Quoth the friar, exceeding well pleased, 'I
am content that thou shouldst thus apprehend it and thy pure and good
conscience therein pleaseth me exceedingly. But, tell me, hast thou
sinned by way of avarice, desiring more than befitted or withholding
that which it behoved thee not to withhold?' 'Father mine,' replied
Ciappelletto, 'I would not have you look to my being in the house of
these usurers; I have nought to do here; nay, I came hither to
admonish and chasten them and turn them from this their abominable way
of gain; and methinketh I should have made shift to do so, had not God
thus visited me. But you must know that I was left a rich man by my
father, of whose good, when he was dead, I bestowed the most part in
alms, and after, to sustain my life and that I might be able to
succour Christ's poor, I have done my little traffickings, and in
these I have desired to gain; but still with God's poor have I shared
that which I gained, converting my own half to my occasion and giving
them the other, and in this so well hath my Creator prospered me that
my affairs have still gone from good to better.'
'Well hast thou done,' said the friar; 'but hast thou often been
angered?' 'Oh,' cried Master Ciappelletto, 'that I must tell you I
have very often been! And who could keep himself therefrom, seeing men
do unseemly things all day long, keeping not the commandments of God
neither fearing His judgment? Many times a day I had liefer been dead
than alive, seeing young men follow after vanities and hearing them
curse and forswear themselves, haunting the taverns, visiting not the
churches and ensuing rather the ways of the world than that of God.'
'My son,' said the friar, 'this is a righteous anger, nor for my part
might I enjoin thee any penance therefor. But hath anger at any time
availed to move thee to do any manslaughter or to bespeak any one
unseemly or do any other unright?' 'Alack, sir,' answered the sick
man, 'you, who seem to me a man of God, how can you say such words?
Had I ever had the least thought of doing any one of the things
whereof you speak, think you I believe that God would so long have
forborne me? These be the doings of outlaws and men of nought, whereof
I never saw any but I said still, "Go, may God amend thee!"'
Then said the friar, 'Now tell me, my son (blessed be thou of God),
hast thou never borne false witness against any or missaid of another,
or taken others' good, without leave of him to whom it pertained?'
'Ay, indeed, sir,' replied Master Ciappelletto; 'I have missaid of
others; for that I had a neighbour aforetime, who, with the greatest
unright in the world, did nought but beat his wife, insomuch that I
once spoke ill of him to her kinsfolk, so great was the compassion
that overcame me for the poor woman, whom he used as God alone can
tell, whenassoever he had drunken overmuch.' Quoth the friar, 'Thou
tellest me thou hast been a merchant. Hast thou never cheated any one,
as merchants do whiles!' 'I' faith, yes, sir,' answered Master
Ciappelletto; 'but I know not whom, except it were a certain man, who
once brought me monies which he owed me for cloth I had sold him and
which I threw into a chest, without counting. A good month after, I
found that they were four farthings more than they should have been;
wherefore, not seeing him again and having kept them by me a full
year, that I might restore them to him, I gave them away in alms.'
Quoth the friar, 'This was a small matter, and thou didst well to deal
with it as thou didst.'
Then he questioned him of many other things, of all which he answered
after the same fashion, and the holy father offering to proceed to
absolution, Master Ciappelletto said, 'Sir, I have yet sundry sins
that I have not told you.' The friar asked him what they were, and he
answered, 'I mind me that one Saturday, after none, I caused my
servant sweep out the house and had not that reverence for the Lord's
holy day which it behoved me have.' 'Oh,' said the friar, 'that is a
light matter, my son.' 'Nay,' rejoined Master Ciappelletto, 'call it
not a light matter, for that the Lord's Day is greatly to be honoured,
seeing that on such a day our Lord rose from the dead.' Then said the
friar, 'Well, hast thou done aught else?' 'Ay, sir,' answered Master
Ciappelletto; 'once, unthinking what I did, I spat in the church of
God.' Thereupon the friar fell a-smiling, and said, 'My son, that is
no thing to be recked of; we who are of the clergy, we spit there all
day long.' 'And you do very ill,' rejoined Master Ciappelletto; 'for
that there is nought which it so straitly behoveth to keep clean as
the holy temple wherein is rendered sacrifice to God.'
Brief, he told him great plenty of such like things and presently fell
a-sighing and after weeping sore, as he knew full well to do, whenas
he would. Quoth the holy friar, 'What aileth thee, my son?' 'Alas,
sir,' replied Master Ciappelletto, 'I have one sin left, whereof I
never yet confessed me, such shame have I to tell it; and every time I
call it to mind, I weep, even as you see, and meseemeth very certain
that God will never pardon it me.' 'Go to, son,' rejoined the friar;
'what is this thou sayest? If all the sins that were ever wrought or
are yet to be wrought of all mankind, what while the world endureth,
were all in one man and he repented him thereof and were contrite
therefor, as I see thee, such is the mercy and loving-kindness of God
that, upon confession, He would freely pardon them to him. Wherefore
do thou tell it in all assurance.' Quoth Master Ciappelletto, still
weeping sore, 'Alack, father mine, mine is too great a sin, and I can
scarce believe that it will ever be forgiven me of God, except your
prayers strive for me.' Then said the friar, 'Tell it me in all
assurance, for I promise thee to pray God for thee.'
Master Ciappelletto, however, still wept and said nought; but, after
he had thus held the friar a great while in suspense, he heaved a deep
sigh and said, 'Father mine, since you promise me to pray God for me,
I will e'en tell it you. Know, then, that, when I was little, I once
cursed my mother.' So saying, he fell again to weeping sore. 'O my
son,' quoth the friar, 'seemeth this to thee so heinous a sin? Why,
men blaspheme God all day long and He freely pardoneth whoso repenteth
him of having blasphemed Him; and deemest thou not He will pardon thee
this? Weep not, but comfort thyself; for, certes, wert thou one of
those who set Him on the cross, He would pardon thee, in favour of
such contrition as I see in thee.' 'Alack, father mine, what say you?'
replied Ciappelletto. 'My kind mother, who bore me nine months in her
body, day and night, and carried me on her neck an hundred times and
more, I did passing ill to curse her and it was an exceeding great
sin; and except you pray God for me, it will not be forgiven me.'
The friar, then, seeing that Master Ciappelletto had no more to say,
gave him absolution and bestowed on him his benison, holding him a
very holy man and devoutly believing all that he had told him to be
true. And who would not have believed it, hearing a man at the point
of death speak thus? Then, after all this, he said to him, 'Master
Ciappelletto, with God's help you will speedily be whole; but, should
it come to pass that God call your blessed and well-disposed soul to
Himself, would it please you that your body be buried in our convent?'
'Ay, would it, sir,' replied Master Ciappelletto. 'Nay, I would fain
no be buried otherwhere, since you have promised to pray God for me;
more by token that I have ever had a special regard for your order.
Wherefore I pray you that whenas you return to your lodging, you must
cause bring me that most veritable body of Christ, which you
consecrate a-mornings upon the altar, for that, with your leave, I
purpose (all unworthy as I am) to take it and after, holy and extreme
unction, to the intent that, if I have lived as a sinner, I may at the
least die like a Christian.' The good friar replied that it pleased
him much and that he said well and promised to see it presently
brought him; and so was it done.
Meanwhile, the two brothers, misdoubting them sore lest Master
Ciappelletto should play them false, had posted themselves behind a
wainscot, that divided the chamber where he lay from another, and
listening, easily heard and apprehended that which he said to the
friar and had whiles so great a mind to laugh, hearing the things
which he confessed to having done, that they were like to burst and
said, one to other, 'What manner of man is this, whom neither old age
nor sickness nor fear of death, whereunto he seeth himself near, nor
yet of God, before whose judgment-seat he looketh to be ere long, have
availed to turn from his wickedness nor hinder him from choosing to
die as he hath lived?' However, seeing that he had so spoken that he
should be admitted to burial in a church, they recked nought of the
rest.
Master Ciappelletto presently took the sacrament and, growing rapidly
worse, received extreme unction, and a little after evensong of the
day he had made his fine confession, he died; whereupon the two
brothers, having, of his proper monies, taken order for his honourable
burial, sent to the convent to acquaint the friars therewith, bidding
them come thither that night to hold vigil, according to usance, and
fetch away the body in the morning, and meanwhile made ready all that
was needful thereunto.
The holy friar, who had shriven him, hearing that he had departed this
life, betook himself to the prior of the convent and, letting ring to
chapter, gave out to the brethren therein assembled that Master
Ciappelletto had been a holy man, according to that which he had
gathered from his confession, and persuaded them to receive his body
with the utmost reverence and devotion, in the hope that God should
show forth many miracles through him. To this the prior and brethren
credulously consented and that same evening, coming all whereas Master
Ciappelletto lay dead, they held high and solemn vigil over him and on
the morrow, clad all in albs and copes, book in hand and crosses
before them, they went, chanting the while, for his body and brought
it with the utmost pomp and solemnity to their church, followed by
well nigh all the people of the city, men and women.
As soon as they had set the body down in the church, the holy friar,
who had confessed him, mounted the pulpit and fell a-preaching
marvellous things of the dead man and of his life, his fasts, his
virginity, his simplicity and innocence and sanctity, recounting,
amongst other things, that which he had confessed to him as his
greatest sin and how he had hardly availed to persuade him that God
would forgive it him; thence passing on to reprove the folk who
hearkened, 'And you, accursed that you are,' quoth he, 'for every waif
of straw that stirreth between your feet, you blaspheme God and the
Virgin and all the host of heaven.' Moreover, he told them many other
things of his loyalty and purity of heart; brief, with his speech,
whereto entire faith was yielded of the people of the city, he so
established the dead man in the reverent consideration of all who were
present that, no sooner was the service at an end, than they all with
the utmost eagerness flocked to kiss his hands and feet and the
clothes were torn off his back, he holding himself blessed who might
avail to have never so little thereof; and needs must they leave him
thus all that day, so he might be seen and visited of all.
The following night he was honourably buried in a marble tomb in one
of the chapels of the church and on the morrow the folk began
incontinent to come and burn candles and offer up prayers and make
vows to him and hang images of wax[39] at his shrine, according to the
promise made. Nay, on such wise waxed the frame of his sanctity and
men's devotion to him that there was scarce any who, being in
adversity, would vow himself to another saint than him; and they
styled and yet style him Saint Ciappelletto and avouch that God
through him hath wrought many miracles and yet worketh, them every day
for whoso devoutly commendeth himself unto him.
[Footnote 39: _i.e._ ex voto.]
Thus, then, lived and died Master Cepperello[40] da Prato and became a
saint, as you have heard; nor would I deny it to be possible that he
is beatified in God's presence, for that, albeit his life was wicked
and perverse, he may at his last extremity have shown such contrition
that peradventure God had mercy on him and received him into His
kingdom; but, for that this is hidden from us, I reason according to
that which, is apparent and say that he should rather be in the hands
of the devil in perdition than in Paradise. And if so it be, we may
know from this how great is God's loving-kindness towards us, which,
having regard not to our error, but to the purity of our faith, whenas
we thus make an enemy (deeming him a friend) of His our intermediary,
giveth ear unto us, even as if we had recourse unto one truly holy, as
intercessor for His favour. Wherefore, to the end that by His grace we
may be preserved safe and sound in this present adversity and in this
so joyous company, let us, magnifying His name, in which we have begun
our diversion, and holding Him in reverence, commend ourselves to Him
in our necessities, well assured of being heard." And with this he was
silent.
[Footnote 40: It will be noted that this is Boccaccio's third variant
of his hero's name (the others being Ciapperello and Cepparello) and
the edition of 1527 furnishes us with a fourth and a fifth form _i.e._
Ciepparello and Ciepperello.]