[Day the Tenth]
THE MARQUESS OF SALUZZO, CONSTRAINED BY THE PRAYERS OF HIS
VASSALS TO MARRY, BUT DETERMINED TO DO IT AFTER HIS OWN
FASHION, TAKETH TO WIFE THE DAUGHTER OF A PEASANT AND HATH
OF HER TWO CHILDREN, WHOM HE MAKETH BELIEVE TO HER TO PUT TO
DEATH; AFTER WHICH, FEIGNING TO BE GROWN WEARY OF HER AND TO
HAVE TAKEN ANOTHER WIFE, HE LETTETH BRING HIS OWN DAUGHTER
HOME TO HIS HOUSE, AS SHE WERE HIS NEW BRIDE, AND TURNETH
HIS WIFE AWAY IN HER SHIFT; BUT, FINDING HER PATIENT UNDER
EVERYTHING, HE FETCHETH HER HOME AGAIN, DEARER THAN EVER,
AND SHOWING HER HER CHILDREN GROWN GREAT, HONOURETH AND
LETTETH HONOUR HER AS MARCHIONESS
The king's long story being ended and having, to all appearance, much
pleased all, Dioneo said, laughing, "The good man,[478] who looked
that night to abase the phantom's tail upright,[479] had not given a
brace of farthings of all the praises that you bestow on Messer
Torello." Then, knowing that it rested with him alone to tell, he
proceeded: "Gentle ladies mine, it appeareth to me that this day hath
been given up to Kings and Soldans and the like folk; wherefore, that
I may not remove overfar from you, I purpose to relate to you of a
marquess, not an act of magnificence, but a monstrous folly, which,
albeit good ensued to him thereof in the end, I counsel not any to
imitate, for it was a thousand pities that weal betided him thereof.
[Footnote 478: _i.e._ he who was to have married Madam Adalieta.]
[Footnote 479: See p. 325.]
It is now a great while agone since the chief of the house among the
Marquesses of Saluzzo was a youth called Gualtieri, who, having
neither wife nor children, spent his time in nought but hunting and
hawking nor had any thought of taking a wife nor of having children;
wherein he deserved to be reputed very wise. The thing, however, not
pleasing his vassals, they besought him many times to take a wife, so
he might not abide without an heir nor they without a lord, and
offered themselves to find him one of such a fashion and born of such
parents that good hopes might be had of her and he be well content
with her; whereto he answered, 'My friends, you constrain me unto that
which I was altogether resolved never to do, considering how hard a
thing it is to find a wife whose fashions sort well within one's own
humour and how great an abundance there is of the contrary sort and
how dour a life is his who happeneth upon a woman not well suited unto
him. To say that you think, by the manners and fashions of the
parents, to know the daughters, wherefrom you argue to give me a wife
such as will please me, is a folly, since I know not whence you may
avail to know their fathers nor yet the secrets of their mothers; and
even did you know them, daughters are often unlike their parents.
However, since it e'en pleaseth you to bind me in these chains, I am
content to do your desire; but, that I may not have occasion to
complain of other than myself, if it prove ill done, I mean to find a
wife for myself, certifying you that, whomsoever I may take me, if she
be not honoured of you as your lady and mistress, you shall prove, to
your cost, how much it irketh me to have at your entreaty taken a wife
against mine own will.'
The good honest men replied that they were content, so he would but
bring himself to take a wife. Now the fashions of a poor girl, who was
of a village near to his house, had long pleased Gualtieri, and
himseeming she was fair enough, he judged that he might lead a very
comfortable life with her; wherefore, without seeking farther, he
determined to marry her and sending for her father, who was a very
poor man, agreed with him to take her to wife. This done, he assembled
all his friends of the country round and said to them, 'My friends, it
hath pleased and pleaseth you that I should dispose me to take a wife
and I have resigned myself thereto, more to complease you than of any
desire I have for marriage. You know what you promised me, to wit,
that you would be content with and honour as your lady and mistress
her whom I should take, whosoever she might be; wherefore the time is
come when I am to keep my promise to you and when I would have you
keep yours to me. I have found a damsel after mine own heart and
purpose within some few days hence to marry her and bring her home to
my house; wherefore do you bethink yourselves how the bride-feast may
be a goodly one and how you may receive her with honour, on such wise
that I may avouch myself contented of your promise, even as you will
have cause to be of mine.' The good folk all answered joyfully that
this liked them well and that, be she who he would, they would hold
her for lady and mistress and honour her as such in all things; after
which they all addressed themselves to hold fair and high and glad
festival and on like wise did Gualtieri, who let make ready very great
and goodly nuptials and bade thereto many his friends and kinsfolk and
great gentlemen and others of the neighbourhood. Moreover, he let cut
and fashion store of rich and goodly apparel, after the measure of a
damsel who seemed to him like of her person to the young woman he was
purposed to marry, and provided also rings and girdles and a rich and
goodly crown and all that behoveth unto a bride.
The day come that he had appointed for the nuptials, Gualtieri towards
half tierce mounted to horse, he and all those who were come to do him
honour, and having ordered everything needful. 'Gentlemen,' quoth he,
'it is time to go fetch the bride.' Then, setting out with all his
company, he rode to the village and betaking himself to the house of
the girl's father, found her returning in great haste with water from
the spring, so she might after go with other women to see Gualtieri's
bride come. When the marquess saw her, he called her by name, to wit,
Griselda, and asked her where her father was; to which she answered
bashfully, 'My lord, he is within the house.' Thereupon Gualtieri
dismounted and bidding all await him, entered the poor house alone,
where he found her father, whose name was Giannucolo, and said to him,
'I am come to marry Griselda, but first I would fain know of her
somewhat in thy presence.' Accordingly, he asked her if, an he took
her to wife, she would still study to please him, nor take umbrage at
aught that he should do or say, and if she would be obedient, and many
other like things, to all of which she answered ay; whereupon
Gualtieri, taking her by the hand, led her forth and in the presence
of all his company and of every one else, let strip her naked. Then,
sending for the garments which he had let make, he caused forthright
clothe and shoe her and would have her set the crown on her hair, all
tumbled as it was; after which, all marvelling at this, he said,
'Gentlemen, this is she who I purpose shall be my wife, an she will
have me to husband.' Then, turning to her, where she stood, all
shamefast and confounded, he said to her, 'Griselda, wilt thou have me
to thy husband?' To which she answered, 'Ay, my lord.' Quoth he, 'And
I will have thee to my wife'; and espoused her in the presence of all.
Then, mounting her on a palfrey, he carried her, honourably
accompanied, to his mansion, where the nuptials were celebrated with
the utmost splendour and rejoicing, no otherwise than as he had taken
to wife the king's daughter of France.
The young wife seemed to have, together with her clothes, changed her
mind and her manners. She was, as we have already said, goodly of
person and countenance, and even as she was fair, on like wise she
became so engaging, so pleasant and so well-mannered that she seemed
rather to have been the child of some noble gentleman than the
daughter of Giannucolo and a tender of sheep; whereof she made every
one marvel who had known her aforetime. Moreover, she was so obedient
to her husband and so diligent in his service that he accounted
himself the happiest and best contented man in the world; and on like
wise she bore herself with such graciousness and such loving kindness
towards her husband's subjects that there was none of them but loved
and honoured her with his whole heart, praying all for her welfare and
prosperity and advancement; and whereas they were used to say that
Gualtieri had done as one of little wit to take her to wife, they now
with one accord declared that he was the sagest and best-advised man
alive, for that none other than he might ever have availed to know her
high worth, hidden as it was under poor clothes and a rustic habit.
Brief, it was no great while ere she knew so to do that, not only in
her husband's marquisate, but everywhere else, she made folk talk of
her virtues and her well-doing and turned to the contrary whatsoever
had been said against her husband on her account, whenas he married
her.
She had not long abidden with Gualtieri ere she conceived with child
and in due time bore a daughter, whereat he rejoiced greatly. But, a
little after, a new[480] thought having entered his mind, to wit, to
seek, by dint of long tribulation and things unendurable, to make
trial of her patience, he first goaded her with words, feigning
himself troubled and saying that his vassals were exceeding ill
content with her, by reason of her mean extraction, especially since
they saw that she bore children, and that they did nothing but
murmur, being sore chagrined for the birth of her daughter. The lady,
hearing this, replied, without anywise changing countenance or showing
the least distemperature, 'My lord, do with me that which thou deemest
will be most for thine honour and solace, for that I shall be content
with all, knowing, as I do, that I am of less account than they[481]
and that I was unworthy of this dignity to which thou hast advanced me
of thy courtesy.' This reply was mighty agreeable to Gualtieri, for
that he saw she was not uplifted into aught of pridefulness for any
honour that himself or others had done her; but, a little after,
having in general terms told her that his vassals could not brook this
girl that had been born of her, he sent to her a serving-man of his,
whom he had lessoned and who said to her with a very woeful
countenance, 'Madam, an I would not die, needs must I do that which my
lord commandeth me. He hath bidden me take this your daughter and....'
And said no more. The lady, hearing this and seeing the servant's
aspect and remembering her of her husband's words, concluded that he
had enjoined him put the child to death; whereupon, without changing
countenance, albeit she felt a sore anguish at heart, she straightway
took her from the cradle and having kissed and blessed her, laid her
in the servant's arms, saying, 'Take her and punctually do that which
thy lord hath enjoined thee; but leave her not to be devoured of the
beasts and the birds, except he command it thee.' The servant took the
child and reported that which the lady had said to Gualtieri, who
marvelled at her constancy and despatched him with the child to a
kinswoman of his at Bologna, praying her to bring her up and rear her
diligently, without ever saying whose daughter she was.
[Footnote 480: Or "strange" (_nuovo_); see ante, passim.]
[Footnote 481: _i.e._ his vassals.]
In course of time the lady again conceived and in due season bore a
male child, to her husband's great joy; but, that which he had already
done sufficing him not, he addressed himself to probe her to the quick
with a yet sorer stroke and accordingly said to her one day with a
troubled air, 'Wife, since thou hast borne this male child, I have
nowise been able to live in peace with these my people, so sore do
they murmur that a grandson of Giannucolo should become their lord
after me; wherefore I misdoubt me, an I would not be driven forth of
my domains, it will behove me do in this case that which I did
otherwhen and ultimately put thee away and take another wife.' The
lady gave ear to him with a patient mind nor answered otherwhat then,
'My lord, study to content thyself and to satisfy thy pleasure and
have no thought of me, for that nothing is dear to me save in so much
as I see it please thee.' Not many days after, Gualtieri sent for the
son, even as he had sent for the daughter, and making a like show of
having him put to death, despatched him to Bologna, there to be
brought up, even as he had done with the girl; but the lady made no
other countenance nor other words thereof than she had done of the
girl; whereat Gualtieri marvelled sore and affirmed in himself that no
other woman could have availed to do this that she did; and had he not
seen her tender her children with the utmost fondness, what while it
pleased him, he had believed that she did this because she recked no
more of them; whereas in effect he knew that she did it of her
discretion. His vassals, believing that he had caused put the children
to death, blamed him sore, accounting him a barbarous man, and had the
utmost compassion of his wife, who never answered otherwhat to the
ladies who condoled with her for her children thus slain, than that
that which pleased him thereof who had begotten them, pleased her
also.
At last, several years being passed since the birth of the girl,
Gualtieri, deeming it time to make the supreme trial of her endurance,
declared, in the presence of his people, that he could no longer
endure to have Griselda to wife and that he perceived that he had done
ill and boyishly in taking her, wherefore he purposed, as far as in
him lay, to make interest with the Pope to grant him a dispensation,
so he might put her away and take another wife. For this he was
roundly taken to task by many men of worth, but answered them nothing
save that needs must it be so. The lady, hearing these things and
herseeming she must look to return to her father's house and maybe
tend sheep again as she had done aforetime, what while she saw another
woman in possession of him to whom she willed all her weal, sorrowed
sore in herself; but yet, even as she had borne the other affronts of
fortune, so with a firm countenance she addressed herself to bear this
also. Gualtieri no great while after let come to him from Rome
counterfeit letters of dispensation and gave his vassals to believe
that the Pope had thereby licensed him to take another wife and leave
Griselda; then, sending for the latter, he said to her, in presence of
many, 'Wife, by concession made me of the Pope, I am free to take
another wife and put thee away, and accordingly, for that mine
ancestors have been great gentlemen and lords of this country, whilst
thine have still been husbandmen, I mean that thou be no more my wife,
but that thou return to Giannucolo his house with the dowry which thou
broughtest me, and I will after bring hither another wife, for that I
have found one more sorted to myself.'
The lady, hearing this, contained her tears, contrary to the nature of
woman, though not without great unease, and answered, 'My lord, I ever
knew my mean estate to be nowise sortable with your nobility, and for
that which I have been with you I have still confessed myself indebted
to you and to God, nor have I ever made nor held it mine, as given to
me, but have still accounted it but as a loan. It pleaseth you to
require it again and it must and doth please me to restore it to you.
Here is your ring wherewith you espoused me; take it. You bid me carry
away with me that dowry which I brought hither, which to do you will
need no paymaster and I neither purse nor packhorse, for I have not
forgotten that you had me naked, and if you account it seemly that
this my body, wherein I have carried children begotten of you, be seen
of all, I will begone naked; but I pray you, in requital of my
maidenhead, which I brought hither and bear not hence with me, that it
please you I may carry away at the least one sole shift over and above
my dowry.' Gualtieri, who had more mind to weep than to otherwhat,
natheless kept a stern countenance and said, 'So be it; carry away a
shift.' As many as stood around besought him to give her a gown, so
that she who had been thirteen years and more his wife should not be
seen go forth of his house on such mean and shameful wise as it was to
depart in her shift; but their prayers all went for nothing; wherefore
the lady, having commended them to God, went forth his house in her
shift, barefoot and nothing on her head, and returned to her father,
followed by the tears and lamentations of all who saw her. Giannucolo,
who had never been able to believe it true that Gualtieri should
entertain his daughter to wife and went in daily expectation of this
event, had kept her the clothes which she had put off the morning that
Gualtieri had married her and now brought them to her; whereupon she
donned them and addressed herself, as she had been wont to do, to the
little offices of her father's house, enduring the cruel onslaught of
hostile fortune with a stout heart.
Gualtieri, having done this, gave out to his people that he had chosen
a daughter of one of the Counts of Panago and letting make great
preparations for the nuptials, sent for Griselda to come to him and
said to her, 'I am about to bring home this lady, whom I have newly
taken to wife, and mean, at this her first coming, to do her honour.
Thou knowest I have no women about me who know how to array me the
rooms nor to do a multitude of things that behove unto such a
festival; wherefore do thou, who art better versed than any else in
these household matters, order that which is to do here and let bid
such ladies as it seemeth good to thee and receive them as thou wert
mistress here; then, when the nuptials are ended, thou mayst begone
back to thy house.' Albeit these words were all daggers to Griselda's
heart, who had been unable to lay down the love she bore him as she
had laid down her fair fortune, she replied, 'My lord, I am ready and
willing.' Then, in her coarse homespun clothes, entering the house,
whence she had a little before departed in her shift, she fell to
sweeping and ordering the chambers and letting place hangings and
cover-cloths about the saloons and make ready the viands, putting her
hand to everything, as she were some paltry serving-wench of the
house, nor ever gave over till she had arrayed and ordered everything
as it behoved. Thereafter, having let invite all the ladies of the
country on Gualtieri's part, she awaited the day of the festival,
which being come, with a cheerful countenance and the spirit and
bearing of a lady of high degree, for all she had mean clothes on her
back, she received all the ladies who came thither.
Meanwhile, Gualtieri, who had caused the two children be diligently
reared in Bologna by his kinswoman, (who was married to a gentleman of
the Panago family,) the girl being now twelve years old and the
fairest creature that ever was seen and the boy six, had sent to his
kinsman[482] at Bologna, praying him be pleased to come to Saluzzo
with his son and daughter and take order to bring with him a goodly
and honourable company and bidding him tell every one that he was
carrying him the young lady to his wife, without otherwise discovering
to any aught of who she was. The gentleman did as the marquess prayed
him and setting out, with the girl and boy and a goodly company of
gentlefolk, after some days' journey, arrived, about dinner-time, at
Saluzzo, where he found all the countryfolk and many others of the
neighbourhood awaiting Gualtieri's new bride. The latter, being
received by the ladies and come into the saloon where the tables were
laid, Griselda came to meet her, clad as she was, and accosted her
blithely, saying, 'Welcome and fair welcome to my lady.' Thereupon the
ladies (who had urgently, but in vain, besought Gualtieri to suffer
Griselda to abide in a chamber or lend her one of the gowns that had
been hers, so that she might not go thus before his guests) were
seated at table and it was proceeded to serve them. The girl was eyed
by every one and all declared that Gualtieri had made a good exchange;
and among the rest Griselda commended her amain, both her and her
young brother.
[Footnote 482: _i.e._ the husband of his kinswoman aforesaid.]
Gualtieri perceiving that the strangeness of the case in no wise
changed her and being assured that this proceeded not from lack of
understanding, for that he knew her to be very quick of wit, himseemed
he had now seen fully as much as he desired of his lady's patience and
he judged it time to deliver her from the bitterness which he doubted
not she kept hidden under her constant countenance; wherefore, calling
her to himself, he said to her, smiling, in the presence of every one,
'How deemest thou of our bride?' 'My lord,' answered she, 'I deem
exceeding well of her, and if, as I believe, she is as discreet as she
is fair, I doubt not a whit but you will live the happiest gentleman
in the world with her; but I beseech you, as most I may, that you
inflict not on her those pangs which you inflicted whilere on her who
was sometime yours; for methinketh she might scarce avail to endure
them, both because she is younger and because she hath been delicately
reared, whereas the other had been in continual fatigues from a little
child.' Thereupon, Gualtieri, seeing she firmly believed that the
young lady was to be his wife nor therefore spoke anywise less than
well, seated her by his side and said to her, 'Griselda, it is now
time that thou reap the fruits of thy long patience and that those who
have reputed me cruel and unjust and brutish should know that this
which I have done I wrought to an end aforeseen, willing to teach thee
to be a wife and to show them how to take and use one and at the same
time to beget myself perpetual quiet, what while I had to live with
thee; the which, whenas I came to take a wife, I was sore afraid might
not betide me, and therefore, to make proof thereof, I probed and
afflicted thee after such kind as thou knowest. And meseeming, for
that I have never perceived that either in word or in deed hast thou
departed from my pleasure, that I have of thee that solace which I
desired, I purpose presently to restore thee, at one stroke, that
which I took from thee at many and to requite thee with a supreme
delight the pangs I have inflicted on thee. Wherefore with a joyful
heart take this whom thou deemest my bride and her brother for thy
children and mine; for these be they whom thou and many others have
long accounted me to have barbarously let put to death; and I am thy
husband, who loveth thee over all else, believing I may vaunt me that
there is none else who can be so content of his wife as can I.'
So saying, he embraced her and kissed her; then, rising up, he betook
himself with Griselda, who wept for joy, whereas the daughter, hearing
these things, sat all stupefied, and tenderly embracing her and her
brother, undeceived her and many others who were there. Thereupon the
ladies arose from table, overjoyed, and withdrew with Griselda into a
chamber, where, with happier augury, pulling off her mean attire, they
clad her anew in a magnificent dress of her own and brought her again
to the saloon, as a gentlewoman, which indeed she appeared, even in
rags. There she rejoiced in her children with wonder-great joy, and
all being overjoyed at this happy issue, they redoubled in feasting
and merrymaking and prolonged the festivities several days, accounting
Gualtieri a very wise man, albeit they held the trials which he had
made of his lady overharsh, nay, intolerable; but over all they held
Griselda most sage. The Count of Panago returned, after some days, to
Bologna, and Gualtieri, taking Giannucolo from his labour, placed him
in such estate as befitted his father-in-law, so that he lived in
honour and great solace and so ended his days; whilst he himself,
having nobly married his daughter, lived long and happily with
Griselda, honouring her as most might be. What more can here be said
save that even in poor cottages there rain down divine spirits from
heaven, like as in princely palaces there be those who were worthier
to tend swine than to have lordship over men? Who but Griselda could,
with a countenance, not only dry,[483] but cheerful, have endured the
barbarous and unheard proofs made by Gualtieri? Which latter had not
belike been ill requited, had he happened upon one who, when he turned
her out of doors in her shift, had let jumble her furbelows of another
to such purpose that a fine gown had come of it."
[Footnote 483: _i.e._ unwetted with tears.]
* * * * *
Dioneo's story being finished and the ladies having discoursed amain
thereof, some inclining to one side and some to another, this blaming
one thing and that commending it, the king, lifting his eyes to heaven
and seeing that the sun was now low and the hour of vespers at hand,
proceeded, without arising from session, to speak thus, "Charming
ladies, as I doubt not you know, the understanding of mortals
consisteth not only in having in memory things past and taking
cognizance of things present; but in knowing, by means of the one and
the other of these, to forecast things future is reputed by men of
mark to consist the greatest wisdom. To-morrow, as you know, it will
be fifteen days since we departed Florence, to take some diversion for
the preservation of our health and of our lives, eschewing the woes
and dolours and miseries which, since this pestilential season began,
are continually to be seen about our city. This, to my judgment, we
have well and honourably done; for that, an I have known to see
aright, albeit merry stories and belike incentive to concupiscence
have been told here and we have continually eaten and drunken well and
danced and sung and made music, all things apt to incite weak minds to
things less seemly, I have noted no act, no word, in fine nothing
blameworthy, either on your part or on that of us men; nay, meseemeth
I have seen and felt here a continual decency, an unbroken concord and
a constant fraternal familiarity; the which, at once for your honour
and service and for mine own, is, certes, most pleasing to me. Lest,
however, for overlong usance aught should grow thereof that might
issue in tediousness, and that none may avail to cavil at our overlong
tarriance,--each of us, moreover, having had his or her share of the
honour that yet resideth in myself,--I hold it meet, an it be your
pleasure, that we now return whence we came; more by token that, if
you consider aright, our company, already known to several others of
the neighbourhood, may multiply after a fashion that will deprive us
of our every commodity. Wherefore, if you approve my counsel, I will
retain the crown conferred on me until our departure, which I purpose
shall be to-morrow morning; but, should you determine otherwise, I
have already in mind whom I shall invest withal for the ensuing day."
Much was the debate between the ladies and the young men; but
ultimately they all took the king's counsel for useful and seemly and
determined to do as he proposed; whereupon, calling the seneschal, he
bespoke him of the manner which he should hold on the ensuing morning
and after, having dismissed the company until supper-time, he rose to
his feet. The ladies and the young men, following his example, gave
themselves, this to one kind of diversion and that to another, no
otherwise than of their wont; and supper-time come, they betook
themselves to table with the utmost pleasure and after fell to singing
and carolling and making music. Presently, Lauretta leading up a
dance, the king bade Fiammetta sing a song, whereupon she very
blithely proceeded to sing thus:
If love came but withouten jealousy,
I know no lady born
So blithe as I were, whosoe'er she be.
If gladsome youthfulness
In a fair lover might content a maid,
Virtue and worth discreet,
Valiance or gentilesse,
Wit and sweet speech and fashions all arrayed
In pleasantness complete,
Certes, I'm she for whose behoof these meet
In one; for, love-o'erborne,
All these in him who is my hope I see.
But for that I perceive
That other women are as wise as I,
I tremble for affright
And tending to believe
The worst, in others the desire espy
Of him who steals my spright;
Thus this that is my good and chief delight
Enforceth me, forlorn,
Sigh sore and live in dole and misery.
If I knew fealty such
In him my lord as I know merit there,
I were not jealous, I;
But here is seen so much
Lovers to tempt, how true they be soe'er,
I hold all false; whereby
I'm all disconsolate and fain would die,
Of each with doubting torn
Who eyes him, lest she bear him off from me.
Be, then, each lady prayed
By God that she in this be not intent
'Gainst me to do amiss;
For, sure, if any maid
Should or with words or becks or blandishment
My detriment in this
Seek or procure and if I know't, ywis,
Be all my charms forsworn
But I will make her rue it bitterly.
No sooner had Fiammetta made an end of her song than Dioneo, who was
beside her, said, laughing, "Madam, you would do a great courtesy to
let all the ladies know who he is, lest you be ousted of his
possession through ignorance, since you would be so sore incensed
thereat." After this divers other songs were sung and the night being
now well nigh half spent, they all, by the king's commandment, betook
themselves to repose. As the new day appeared, they arose and the
seneschal having already despatched all their gear in advance, they
returned, under the guidance of their discreet king, to Florence,
where the three young men took leave of the seven ladies and leaving
them in Santa Maria Novella, whence they had set out with them, went
about their other pleasures, whilst the ladies, whenas it seemed to
them time, returned to their houses.
HERE ENDETH THE TENTH AND LAST DAY
OF THE DECAMERON
_Conclusion of the Author_
Most noble damsels, for whose solace I have addressed myself to so
long a labour, I have now, methinketh, with the aid of the Divine
favour, (vouchsafed me, as I deem, for your pious prayers and not for
my proper merits,) throughly accomplished that which I engaged, at the
beginning of this present work, to do; wherefore, returning thanks
first to God and after to you, it behoveth to give rest to my pen and
to my tired hand. Which ere I accord them, I purpose briefly to reply,
as to objections tacitly broached, to certain small matters that may
peradventure be alleged by some one of you or by others, since
meseemeth very certain that these stories have no especial privilege
more than other things; nay, I mind me to have shown, at the beginning
of the fourth day, that they have none such. There are, peradventure,
some of you who will say that I have used overmuch license in
inditing these stories, as well as in making ladies whiles say and
very often hearken to things not very seemly either to be said or
heard of modest women. This I deny, for that there is nothing so
unseemly as to be forbidden unto any one, so but he express it in
seemly terms, as meseemeth indeed I have here very aptly done. But let
us suppose that it is so (for that I mean not to plead with you, who
would overcome me,) I say that many reasons very readily offer
themselves in answer why I have done this. Firstly, if there be aught
thereof[484] in any of them, the nature of the stories required it,
the which, an they be considered with the rational eye of a person of
understanding, it will be abundantly manifest that I could not have
otherwise recounted, an I would not altogether disfeature them. And if
perchance there be therein some tittle, some wordlet or two freer,
maybe, than liketh your squeamish hypocritical prudes, who weigh words
rather than deeds and study more to appear, than to be, good, I say
that it should no more be forbidden me to write them than it is
commonly forbidden unto men and women to say all day long _hole_ and
_peg_ and _mortar_ and _pestle_ and _sausage_ and _polony_ and all
manner like things; without reckoning that no less liberty should be
accorded to my pen than is conceded to the brush of the limner, who,
without any (or, at the least, any just) reprehension, maketh--let be
St. Michael smite the serpent with sword or spear and St. George the
dragon, whereas it pleaseth them--but Adam male and Eve female and
affixeth to the cross, whiles with one nail and whiles with two, the
feet of Him Himself who willed for the salvation of the human race to
die upon the rood. Moreover, it is eath enough to see that these
things are spoken, not in the church, of the affairs whereof it
behoveth to speak with a mind and in terms alike of the chastest
(albeit among its histories there are tales enough to be found of
anothergates fashion than those written by me), nor yet in the schools
of philosophy, where decency is no less required than otherwhere, nor
among churchmen or philosophers anywhere, but amidst gardens, in a
place of pleasance and diversion and among men and women, though
young, yet of mature wit and not to be led astray by stories, at a
time when it was not forbidden to the most virtuous to go, for their
own preservation, with their breeches on their heads. Again, such as
they are, these stories, like everything else, can both harm and
profit, according to the disposition of the listener. Who knoweth not
that wine, though, according to Cinciglione and Scolajo[485] and many
others, an excellent thing for people in health,[486] is hurtful unto
whoso hath the fever? Shall we say, then, because it harmeth the
fevered, that it is naught? Who knoweth not that fire is most useful,
nay, necessary to mortals? Shall we say, because it burneth houses and
villages and cities, that it is naught? Arms on like wise assure the
welfare of those who desire to live in peace and yet oftentimes slay
men, not of any malice of their own, but of the perversity of those
who use them wrongfully. Corrupt mind never understood word healthily,
and even as seemly words profit not depraved minds, so those which are
not altogether seemly avail not to contaminate the well-disposed, any
more than mire can sully the rays of the sun or earthly foulness the
beauties of the sky. What books, what words, what letters are holier,
worthier, more venerable than those of the Divine Scriptures? Yet many
there be, who, interpreting them perversely, have brought themselves
and others to perdition. Everything in itself is good unto somewhat
and ill used, may be in many things harmful; and so say I of my
stories. If any be minded to draw therefrom ill counsel or ill
practice, they will nowise forbid it him, if perchance they have it in
them or be strained and twisted into having it; and who so will have
profit and utility thereof, they will not deny it him, nor will they
be ever styled or accounted other than useful and seemly, if they be
read at those times and to those persons for which and for whom they
have been recounted. Whoso hath to say paternosters or to make tarts
and puddings for her spiritual director, let her leave them be; they
will not run after any to make her read them; albeit your she-saints
themselves now and again say and even do fine things.
[Footnote 484: _i.e._ of overmuch licence.]
[Footnote 485: Two noted wine-bidders of the time.]
[Footnote 486: Lit. living folk (_viventi_).]
There be some ladies also who will say that there are some stories
here, which had been better away. Granted; but I could not nor should
write aught save those actually related, wherefore those who told them
should have told them goodly and I would have written them goodly.
But, if folk will e'en pretend that I am both the inventor and writer
thereof (which I am not), I say that I should not take shame to myself
that they were not all alike goodly, for that there is no craftsman
living (barring God) who doth everything alike well and completely;
witness Charlemagne, who was the first maker of the Paladins, but knew
not to make so many thereof that he might avail to form an army of
them alone. In the multitude of things, needs must divers qualities
thereof be found. No field was ever so well tilled but therein or
nettles or thistles or somewhat of briers or other weeds might be
found mingled with the better herbs. Besides, having to speak to
simple lasses, such as you are for the most part, it had been folly to
go seeking and wearying myself to find very choice and exquisite
matters, and to use great pains to speak very measuredly. Algates,
whoso goeth reading among these, let him leave those which offend and
read those which divert. They all, not to lead any one into error,
bear branded upon the forefront that which they hold hidden within
their bosoms.
Again, I doubt not but there be those who will say that some of them
are overlong; to whom I say again that whoso hath overwhat to do doth
folly to read these stories, even though they were brief. And albeit a
great while is passed from the time when I began to write to this
present hour whenas I come to the end of my toils, it hath not
therefor escaped my memory that I proffered this my travail to idle
women and not to others, and unto whoso readeth to pass away the time,
nothing can be overlong, so but it do that for which he useth it.
Things brief are far better suited unto students, who study, not to
pass away, but usefully to employ time, than to you ladies, who have
on your hands all the time that you spend not in the pleasures of
love; more by token that, as none of you goeth to Athens or Bologna or
Paris to study, it behoveth to speak to you more at large than to
those who have had their wits whetted by study. Again, I doubt not a
jot but there be yet some of you who will say that the things
aforesaid are full of quips and cranks and quodlibets and that it ill
beseemeth a man of weight and gravity to have written thus. To these I
am bound to render and do render thanks, for that, moved by a virtuous
jealousy, they are so tender of my fame; but to their objection I
reply on this wise; I confess to being a man of weight and to have
been often weighed in my time, wherefore, speaking to those ladies who
have not weighed me, I declare that I am not heavy; nay, I am so light
that I abide like a nutgall in water, and considering that the
preachments made of friars, to rebuke men of their sins, are nowadays
for the most part seen full of quips and cranks and gibes, I conceived
that these latter would not sit amiss in my stories written to ease
women of melancholy. Algates, an they should laugh overmuch on that
account, the Lamentations of Jeremiah, the Passion of our Saviour and
the Complaint of Mary Magdalen will lightly avail to cure them
thereof.
Again, who can doubt but there will to boot be found some to say that
I have an ill tongue and a venomous, for that I have in sundry places
written the truth anent the friars? To those who shall say thus it
must be forgiven, since it is not credible that they are moved by
other than just cause, for that the friars are a good sort of folk,
who eschew unease for the love of God and who grind with a full head
of water and tell no tales, and but that they all savour somewhat of
the buck-goat, their commerce would be far more agreeable. Natheless,
I confess that the things of this world have no stability and are
still on the change, and so may it have befallen of my tongue, the
which, not to trust to mine own judgment, (which I eschew as most I
may in my affairs,) a she-neighbour of mine told me, not long since,
was the best and sweetest in the world; and in good sooth, were this
the case, there had been few of the foregoing stories to write. But,
for that those who say thus speak despitefully, I will have that which
hath been said suffice them for a reply; wherefore, leaving each of
you henceforth to say and believe as seemeth good to her, it is time
for me to make an end of words, humbly thanking Him who hath, after so
long a labour, brought us with His help to the desired end. And you,
charming ladies, abide you in peace with His favour, remembering you
of me, if perchance it profit any of you aught to have read these
stories.
HERE ENDETH THE BOOK CALLED DECAMERON
AND SURNAMED PRINCE GALAHALT