[Day the Seventh]
TWO SIENNESE LOVE A LADY, WHO IS GOSSIP TO ONE OF THEM; THE
LATTER DIETH AND RETURNING TO HIS COMPANION, ACCORDING TO
PROMISE MADE HIM, RELATETH TO HIM HOW FOLK FARE IN THE OTHER
WORLD
It now rested only with the king to tell and he accordingly, as soon
as he saw the ladies quieted, who lamented the cutting down of the
unoffending pear-tree, began, "It is a very manifest thing that every
just king should be the first to observe the laws made by him, and an
he do otherwise, he must be adjudged a slave deserving of punishment
and not a king, into which offence and under which reproach I, who am
your king, am in a manner constrained to fall. True it is that
yesterday I laid down the law for to-day's discourses, purposing not
this day to make use of my privilege, but, submitting myself to the
same obligation as you, to discourse of that whereof you have all
discoursed. However, not only hath that story been told which I had
thought to tell, but so many other and far finer things have been said
upon the matter that, for my part, ransack my memory as I will, I can
call nothing to mind and must avouch myself unable to say aught anent
such a subject that may compare with those stories which have already
been told. Wherefore, it behoving me transgress against the law made
by myself, I declare myself in advance ready, as one deserving of
punishment, to submit to any forfeit which may be imposed on me, and
so have recourse to my wonted privilege. Accordingly, dearest ladies,
I say that Elisa's story of Fra Rinaldo and his gossip and eke the
simplicity of the Siennese have such efficacy that they induce me,
letting be the cheats put upon foolish husbands by their wily wives,
to tell you a slight story of them,[357] which though it have in it no
little of that which must not be believed, will natheless in part, at
least, be pleasing to hear.
[Footnote 357: _i.e._ the Siennese.]
There were, then, in Siena two young men of the people, whereof one
was called Tingoccio Mini and the other Meuccio di Tura; they abode at
Porta Salaja and consorted well nigh never save one with the other. To
all appearance they loved each exceedingly and resorting, as men do,
to churches and preachings, they had many a time heard tell of the
happiness and of the misery that are, according to their deserts,
allotted in the next world to the souls of those who die; of which
things desiring to have certain news and finding no way thereto, they
promised one another that whichever of them died first should, an he
might, return to him who abode on life and give him tidings of that
which he would fain know; and this they confirmed with an oath. Having
come to this accord and companying still together, as hath been said,
it chanced that Tingoccio became godfather to a child which one
Ambruogio Anselmini, abiding at Campo Reggi, had had of his wife,
Mistress Mita by name, and from time to time visiting, together with
Meuccio, his gossip who was a very fair and lovesome lady, he became,
notwithstanding the gossipship, enamoured of her. Meuccio, on like
wise, hearing her mightily commended of his friend and being himself
much pleased with her, fell in love with her, and each hid his love
from the other, but not for one same reason. Tingoccio was careful not
to discover it to Meuccio, on account of the naughty deed which
himseemed he did to love his gossip and which he had been ashamed that
any should know. Meuccio, on the other hand, kept himself
therefrom,[358] for that he had already perceived that the lady
pleased Tingoccio; whereupon he said in himself, 'If I discover this
to him, he will wax jealous of me and being able, as her gossip, to
bespeak her at his every pleasure, he will, inasmuch as he may, bring
me in ill savour with her, and so I shall never have of her aught that
may please me.'
[Footnote 358: _i.e._ from discovering to his friend his liking for
the lady.]
Things being at this pass, it befell that Tingoccio, having more
leisure of discovering his every desire to the lady, contrived with
acts and words so to do that he had his will of her, of which Meuccio
soon became aware and albeit it sore misliked him, yet, hoping some
time or other to compass his desire, he feigned ignorance thereof, so
Tingoccio might not have cause or occasion to do him an ill turn or
hinder him in any of his affairs. The two friends loving thus, the one
more happily than the other, it befell that Tingoccio, finding the
soil of his gossip's demesne soft and eath to till, so delved and
laboured there that there overcame him thereof a malady, which after
some days waxed so heavy upon him that, being unable to brook it, he
departed this life. The third day after his death (for that belike he
had not before been able) he came by night, according to the promise
made, into Meuccio's chamber and called the latter, who slept fast.
Meuccio awoke and said, 'Who art thou?' Whereto he answered, 'I am
Tingoccio, who, according to the promise which I made thee, am come
back to thee to give thee news of the other world.'
Meuccio was somewhat affrighted at seeing him; nevertheless, taking
heart, 'Thou art welcome, brother mine,' quoth he, and presently asked
him if he were lost. 'Things are lost that are not to be found,'
replied Tingoccio; 'and how should I be here, if I were lost?'
'Alack,' cried Meuccio, 'I say not so; nay, I ask thee if thou art
among the damned souls in the avenging fire of hell.' Whereto quoth
Tingoccio, 'As for that, no; but I am, notwithstanding, in very
grievous and anguishful torment for the sins committed by me.' Meuccio
then particularly enquired of him what punishments were awarded in the
other world for each of the sins that folk use to commit here below,
and he told him them all. After this Meuccio asked if there were aught
he might do for him in this world, whereto Tingoccio replied that
there was, to wit, that he should let say for him masses and orisons
and do alms in his name, for that these things were mightily
profitable to those who abode yonder. Meuccio said that he would well
and Tingoccio offering to take leave of him, he remembered himself of
the latter's amour with his gossip and raising his head, said, 'Now
that I bethink me, Tingoccio, what punishment is given thee over
yonder anent thy gossip, with whom thou layest, whenas thou wast here
below?' 'Brother mine,' answered Tingoccio, 'whenas I came yonder,
there was one who it seemed knew all my sins by heart and bade me
betake myself to a certain place, where I bemoaned my offences in
exceeding sore punishment and where I found many companions condemned
to the same penance as myself. Being among them and remembering me of
that which I had done whilere with my gossip, I looked for a much
sorer punishment on account thereof than that which had presently been
given me and went all shivering for fear, albeit I was in a great fire
and an exceeding hot; which one who was by my side perceiving, he said
to me, "What aileth thee more than all the others who are here that
thou shiverest, being in the fire?" "Marry," said I, "my friend, I am
sore in fear of the sentence I expect for a grievous sin I wrought
aforetime." The other asked me what sin this was, and I answered, "It
was that I lay with a gossip of mine, and that with such a vengeance
that it cost me my life"; whereupon quoth he, making merry over my
fear, "Go to, fool; have no fear. Here is no manner of account taken
of gossips." Which when I heard, I was altogether reassured.' This
said and the day drawing near, 'Meuccio,' quoth he, 'abide with God,
for I may no longer be with thee,' and was suddenly gone. Meuccio,
hearing that no account was taken of gossips in the world to come,
began to make mock of his own simplicity, for that whiles he had
spared several of them; wherefore, laying by his ignorance, he became
wiser in that respect for the future. Which things if Fra Rinaldo had
known, he had not needed to go a-syllogizing,[359] whenas he converted
his good gossip to his pleasure."
[Footnote 359: Or, in modern parlance, logic-chopping
(_sillogizzando_).]
* * * * *
Zephyr was now arisen, for the sun that drew near unto the setting,
when the king, having made an end of his story and there being none
other left to tell, put off the crown from his own head and set it on
that of Lauretta, saying, "Madam, with yourself[360] I crown you
queen of our company; do you then, from this time forth, as sovereign
lady, command that which you may deem shall be for the pleasure and
solacement of all." This said, he reseated himself, whereupon
Lauretta, become queen, let call the seneschal and bade him look that
the tables be set in the pleasant valley somewhat earlier than of
wont, so they might return to the palace at their leisure; after which
she instructed him what he should do what while her sovranty lasted.
Then, turning to the company, she said, "Dioneo willed yesterday that
we should discourse to-day of the tricks that women play their
husbands and but that I am loath to show myself of the tribe of
snappish curs, which are fain incontinent to avenge themselves of any
affront done them, I would say that to-morrow's discourse should be of
the tricks that men play their wives. But, letting that be, I ordain
that each bethink himself to tell OF THE TRICKS THAT ALL DAY LONG
WOMEN PLAY MEN OR MEN WOMEN OR MEN ONE ANOTHER; and I doubt not but
that in this[361] there will be no less of pleasant discourse than
there hath been to-day." So saying, she rose to her feet and dismissed
the company till supper-time.
[Footnote 360: _i.e._ with that whereof you bear the name, _i.e._
laurel (_laurea_).]
[Footnote 361: Or "on this subject" (_in questo_).]
Accordingly, they all, ladies and men alike, arose and some began to
go barefoot through the clear water, whilst others went a-pleasuring
upon the greensward among the straight and goodly trees. Dioneo and
Fiammetta sang together a great while of Arcite and Palemon, and on
this wise, taking various and divers delights, they passed the time
with the utmost satisfaction until the hour of supper; which being
come, they seated themselves at table beside the lakelet and there, to
the song of a thousand birds, still refreshed by a gentle breeze, that
came from the little hills around, and untroubled of any fly, they
supped in peace and cheer. Then, the tables being removed and the sun
being yet half-vespers[362] high, after they had gone awhile round
about the pleasant valley, they wended their way again, even as it
pleased their queen, with slow steps towards their wonted
dwelling-place, and jesting and chattering a thousand things, as well
of those whereof it had been that day discoursed as of others, they
came near upon nightfall to the fair palace, where having with the
coolest of wines and confections done away the fatigues of the little
journey, they presently fell to dancing about the fair fountain,
carolling[363] now to the sound of Tindaro's bagpipe and anon to that
of other instruments. But, after awhile, the queen bade Filomena sing
a song, whereupon she began thus:
[Footnote 362: _Quære_, "half-complines," _i.e._ half-past seven p.m.
"Half-vespers" would be half-past four, which seems too early.]
[Footnote 363: _Carolando_, _i.e._ dancing in a round and singing the
while, the original meaning of our word "carol."]
Alack, my life forlorn!
Will't ever chance I may once more regain
Th' estate whence sorry fortune hath me torn?
Certes, I know not, such a wish of fire
I carry in my thought
To find me where, alas! I was whilere.
O dear my treasure, thou my sole desire,
That holdst my heart distraught.
Tell it me, thou; for whom I know nor dare
To ask it otherwhere.
Ah, dear my lord, oh, cause me hope again,
So I may comfort me my spright wayworn.
What was the charm I cannot rightly tell
That kindled in me such
A flame of love that rest nor day nor night
I find; for, by some strong unwonted spell,
Hearing and touch
And seeing each new fires in me did light,
Wherein I burn outright;
Nor other than thyself can soothe my pain
Nor call my senses back, by love o'erborne.
O tell me if and when, then, it shall be
That I shall find thee e'er
Whereas I kissed those eyes that did me slay.
O dear my good, my soul, ah, tell it me,
When thou wilt come back there,
And saying "Quickly," comfort my dismay
Somedele. Short be the stay
Until thou come, and long mayst thou remain!
I'm so love-struck, I reck not of men's scorn.
If once again I chance to hold thee aye,
I will not be so fond
As erst I was to suffer thee to fly;
Nay, fast I'll hold thee, hap of it what may,
And having thee in bond,
Of thy sweet mouth my lust I'll satisfy.
Now of nought else will I
Discourse. Quick, to thy bosom come me strain;
The sheer thought bids me sing like lark at morn.
This song caused all the company conclude that a new and pleasing love
held Filomena in bonds, and as by the words it appeared that she had
tasted more thereof than sight alone, she was envied of this by
certain who were there and who held her therefor so much the happier.
But, after her song was ended, the queen, remembering her that the
ensuing day was Friday, thus graciously bespoke all, "You know, noble
ladies and you also, young men, that to-morrow is the day consecrated
to the passion of our Lord, the which, an you remember aright, what
time Neifile was queen, we celebrated devoutly and therein gave pause
to our delightsome discoursements, and on like wise we did with the
following Saturday. Wherefore, being minded to follow the good example
given us by Neifile, I hold it seemly that to-morrow and the next day
we abstain, even as we did a week agone, from our pleasant
story-telling, recalling to memory that which on those days befell
whilere for the salvation of our souls." The queen's pious speech was
pleasing unto all and a good part of the night being now past, they
all, dismissed by her, betook them to repose.
HERE ENDETH THE SEVENTH DAY
OF THE DECAMERON
_Day the Eighth_
HERE BEGINNETH THE EIGHTH DAY OF THE DECAMERON WHEREIN UNDER
THE GOVERNANCE OF LAURETTA IS DISCOURSED OF THE TRICKS THAT
ALL DAY LONG WOMEN PLAY MEN OR MEN WOMEN OR MEN ONE ANOTHER
Already on the Sunday morning the rays of the rising light appeared on
the summits of the higher mountains and every shadow having departed,
things might manifestly be discerned, when the queen, arising with her
company, went wandering first through the dewy grass and after,
towards half-tierce,[364] visiting a little neighboring church, heard
there divine service; then, returning home, they ate with mirth and
joyance and after sang and danced awhile till the queen dismissed
them, so whoso would might go rest himself. But, whenas the sun had
passed the meridian, they all seated themselves, according as it
pleased the queen, near the fair fountain, for the wonted
story-telling, and Neifile, by her commandment, began thus:
[Footnote 364: _i.e._ half-past seven a.m.]