BOCCACCIO'S EARLY WORKS--THE _FILOCOLO_--THE _FILOSTRATO_--THE
_TESEIDE_--THE _AMETO_--THE _FIAMMETTA_--THE _NINFALE FIESOLANO_
I have written at some length and in some detail of the early
years of Boccaccio and of the circumstances attending his love for
Fiammetta, because they decided the rest of his life, and are in
many ways by far the most important in his whole career. But the ten
years which follow his return to Florence are even more uncertain and
obscure that those which preceded them, while we are without any of
those semi-biographical allegories to help us. It will be necessary,
therefore, to deal with these years less personally, and to regard
them more strictly from the point of view of the work they produced.
And to begin with, let us consider the work already begun before
Boccaccio left Naples, or at any rate worked on during the years
1341-4, which were spent in and around Florence.
That his life was far from happy on his return from Naples we know
not only from the bitter and cruel verses he has left us, in which he
speaks of his home--
"Dove la cruda ed orribile vista
D' un vecchio freddo, ruvido ed avaro
Ogn' ora con affanno più m' attrista----"[212]
but also from the letters he sent to Niccolò Acciaiuoli,[213] in
which he says: "I can write nothing here where I am in Florence,
for if I should, I must write not in ink, but in tears. My only hope
is in you--you alone can change my unhappy fate." That he was very
poor we may be certain, and though he was not compelled to work at
business, the abomination of his youth, no doubt he had to listen
to the regrets, and perhaps to the reproaches, of an old man whom
misfortune had soured. His father, however, seems to have left him
quite free to work as he wished, satisfying himself with his mere
presence and company. And then the worst was soon over, for, by what
means we know not, by December, 1342, he was able to buy a house in
the parish of S. Ambrogio, and to live in his own way.[214]
This period, then, materially so unfortunate, not for Boccaccio
alone, as we shall see, is nevertheless the most fruitful of his
existence. For it is in the five years which follow his return from
Naples that we may be sure he was at work on the _Filocolo_, the
_Ameto_, the _Teseide_, the _Amorosa Visione_, the _Filostrato_, and
wrote the _Fiammetta_ and the _Ninfale Fiesolano_, and somewhat in
that sequence; though save with regard to the _Filocolo_ perhaps, we
have no notice or date or hint even of the order of their production,
either from himself or any of his contemporaries.
It was at this time, too, that he perfected himself in the Latin
tongue and read the classics, of which he shows he had a marvellously
close if uncritical knowledge. His state of soul is visible in his
work, which is so extraordinarily personal. A single thought seems to
fill his mind: he had loved a princess, and had been loved in return;
she had forsaken him, but she remained, in spite of everything, the
lode-star of his life. He writes really of nothing else but this.
Full of her he sets himself to glorify her, and to tell over and over
again his own story.
[Illustration: THE MURDER OF THE EMPEROR AND EMPRESS
_From a miniature in the French version of the "De Casibus Virorum,"
made in 1409 by Laurent le Premierfait. MS. late XV century. (Brit.
Mus. Showcase V, MS. 126.)_]
It was the story of Florio and Biancofiore, popular enough in Naples,
that had charmed Fiammetta at first hearing in the convent parlour at
S. Arcangelo a Baiano, and it is round this tale that the _Filocolo_
is written.[215] As he tells us himself in the first page, this was
the first book he made to please her, and it was therefore probably
begun in the summer of 1331.[216] The work thus undertaken seems to
have grown on his hands, and can indeed have been no light task: it
is the longest of his works after the _Decameron_, and the weakest
of all. The book, indeed, as we now have it, must have demanded
years of labour; as he himself exclaims: "O piccolo mio libretto a
me più anni stato graziosa fatica";[217] and it is certain that it
was still unfinished when he returned to Florence, and probable that
it remained so for some years. The narrative is complicated, and the
relation very long drawn out and even tiresome.
There live in Rome, we learn, Quinto Lelio Africano and Giulia
Tropazia his wife, who have been married for five years, and yet, to
their sorrow, have no children. Lelio is descended from the conqueror
of Carthage, Scipio Africanus, and Giulia from the Julian stock.
They are both pious Christians and vow a pilgrimage to S. James of
Compostella if, in answer to the prayers of that saint, God will
vouchsafe them a child. Their prayers are heard, and with a great
company they set out on pilgrimage to Spain in fulfilment of their
vow.
Now this pilgrimage has especially infuriated the ancient enemy
of mankind, here half Satan, half Pluto, and he is resolved to
hinder it. In the form of a knight he appears before King Felice of
Spain, who is descended in direct line from Atlas, the bearer of the
heavens, and tells him how his faithful city of Marmorina has been
assailed by the Romans, how it was sacked and its inhabitants put to
the sword without mercy.
Much moved to anger by this tale, King Felice sets out against the
Romans, and meeting Lelio with his people on pilgrimage, takes
them for his enemies and attacks them. The little Roman company
defends itself with the courage of despair, but ends by succumbing
to overwhelming force. All the Romans are killed on the field and
their women made prisoners; but not before the King understands how
maliciously he has been deceived by the devil, and how the folk
he has killed were but innocent pilgrims. So he leads Giulia and
Glorizia her friend to his wife in Seville, where a great fête is
given in his honour.
And as it happens Giulia and the Queen give birth in the same day
to a daughter and a son respectively, who are given the names of
Biancofiore and Florio. Giulia, however, dies in child-bed, and her
daughter Biancofiore is educated by the Queen with her son Florio.
The two children learn to read in the "santo libro d' Ovidio," in
which Boccaccio tells us the poet shows, "come i santi fuochi di
Venere si deano ne' freddi cuori con sollecitudine accendere." And
this reading is not without its effect; the two children fall in
love, Love himself appearing to them.
There follows what we might expect. The King is angered at their
love, and refuses to permit the union of his son with an unknown
Roman girl. He sends the fifteen-year-old Florio to Montorio,
ostensibly to study philosophy, but really to forget Biancofiore.
After the parting, charmingly told, in which Florio calls on the gods
and heroes, and Biancofiore gives him a ring which will always tell
him of her safety, he departs. The King, however, profiting by his
absence, plots against Biancofiore with the assistance of Massamutino
the seneschal. At a sumptuous banquet given in the castle the girl is
accused of having tried to poison him. She is condemned to the stake,
and Massamutino is to execute the sentence.
Meanwhile Florio has been disquieted by the sudden tarnishing
of the ring. Suddenly Venus appears to him, and bids him go to
the assistance of his mistress. Armed with arms terrestrial and
celestial, accompanied by Mars, Florio hastens to Marmorina. He
frees Biancofiore, and in a sort of duel conquers the seneschal,
and having obtained from him a confession of the conspiracy, proves
the innocence of Biancofiore and kills him. During all this he is
incognito. Then, without heeding her prayers, he gives her once
more into the care of the King and returns to Montorio without
declaring who he is. There he is tempted to be false to his love by
two girls who offer him every sort of love and pleasure, and it is
only with difficulty he keeps his faith. He is then assaulted by
jealousy, however, for he knows that a young knight, Fileno by name,
altogether noble and valorous, is fallen in love with Biancofiore.
Florio resolves to kill him, but the youth is advised in a dream of
his danger and flies into Tuscany, where, by reason of his continual
weeping, he is changed into a fountain near a temple.
The persecutions of Biancofiore, however, are not over. King Felice,
wishing to be rid of her, sells her one day to some merchants, and
these take her at length to Alexandria in Egypt. Florio, returning,
is told she is dead; he tries to kill himself on her pretended tomb,
but his mother prevents him and tells him the truth. He resolves to
set out through the world in search of his love. Here the first part
of the story may be said to end.
The second part is concerned with Florio's adventures. He travels
unknown under the name of Filocolo,[218] that is to say Fatica d'
Amore. With his companions he voyages first towards Italy, and, blown
by a tempest to Partenope (Naples), meets there in a garden the
beautiful Fiammetta and her lover Galeone amid a joyful and numerous
company, each member of which recounts an amorous adventure, and
closes the narrative with a demand for the solution of the _Questione
d' Amore_ which arises out of it.
Meanwhile Biancofiore has been sold to the admiral of the Sultan
of Babylon in Alexandria, who makes a collection of beauties for
his lord. This treasure is kept well guarded, but with every
consideration, at the top of a lofty and beautiful tower by Sadoc,
a ferocious old Arab, who, however, has two weaknesses--his love of
money and his love of chess. Florio allows him to win at a game of
chess, and at the same time bribes him generously. Having thus won
his good will he has himself carried to Biancofiore in a great basket
of flowers. She rewards him for all his labour. The admiral, however,
learns of this, and, furious at the spoliation of his property,
condemns both Florio and his mistress to be burned alive. But when
they are at the stake, Venus makes their bodies invulnerable, and
inspires Florio's companions to heroic deeds. In admiration of their
courage, the admiral is reconciled with them; and, in fact, when
Florio, Filocolo till now, declares who he is, he finds that the old
admiral is his uncle. Then follows the marriage and the marriage
feast.
Here the book might well have ended; but Boccaccio has by no means
finished.
On the way back to Spain, Florio, Biancofiore and their companions
pass through Italy. In Naples they find Galeone abandoned by
Fiammetta. They visit the places round about, the baths of Baia, the
ancient sepulchre of Misenum,[219] Cuma, the Mare Morto and Pozzuoli.
Florio fishes in the bay and hunts in the woods. One day following a
stag, he shoots an arrow that not only wounds the animal, but also
strikes the root of a tall pine, and, wonderful to relate, Florio
and Biancofiore see blood spring from the wounded tree and hear a
mournful voice cry out in pain. This being, changed into a tree,
proves to be Idalagos, who, questioned by Florio, tells him all his
history, the history, as we have seen,[220] of Boccaccio himself, for
it is his own story he tells in the name of Idalagos.
After these adventures Florio, with Biancofiore and his companions,
goes on to Rome, where, like a modern tourist, he visits all the
sights. In the Lateran he meets the monk Ilario, who discourses on
religion, dealing severely with paganism, and recounting briefly
the contents of the Old and New Testaments. He speaks also of the
history of the Greeks and Romans, and at last converts Florio and his
companions to Christianity.[221] Then follows the reconciliation with
Biancofiore's relations and the return to Spain, where, Felice being
dead, Florio inherits his kingdom, and with Biancofiore lives happily
ever after.
Such, in the most meagre outline, is the main story of the
_Filocolo_; but Boccaccio is not really concerned with it in its
integrity, and in the construction of it he does not show himself
to be the future composer of the _Decameron_. He collects in haste,
and without much discernment, all sorts of episodes and adventures,
and tells them, not without some confusion, solely to serve his own
ends, to express himself and his love. Sometimes he copies the French
poems from which in part he had the story,[222] though probably his
real sources were tradition; sometimes he invents his own story, as
in the tale of Idalagos. But as a work of art the _Filocolo_ is now
intolerable, and is, in fact, even in Italy, quite unread. For when
we have followed the hero in detail from birth to the unspeakable
happiness which is the finality of all such creations, we know
nothing of his character. He is not a man, but a shadow; the ghost of
a ghost. And as it is with Florio, so it is with Biancofiore: they
are pure nothing. But, as it seems, Boccaccio was too young and too
eager to care about anything but flattering Fiammetta and telling her
he loved her. The story, in so far as it is a story, is an imitation
of the endless medieval tales told by word of mouth in the streets
and piazzas up and down Italy. Yet now and again, even in this
wearying and complicated desert of words, we may find hints of the
author's attitude of mind towards the great things of the world,
while once certainly we find a prophecy not only of a great artist,
but of the _Decameron_ itself.
[Illustration: A WOODCUT FROM "DES NOBLES MALHEUREUX" (DE CASIBUS
VIRORUM) PARIS, 1515.
_This cut originally appears in the "Troy Book." (T. Bonhomme, Paris,
1484.) Unique copy at Dresden. (By the courtesy of Messrs. J. & J.
Leighton.)_]
In the course of the book Boccaccio makes all sorts of excursions
into mythology, and towards the end into religion. If we examine
these pages we find that for him the gods of Greece once reigning in
Olympus are now devils and demons according to the transformation
of the Middle Age. The monk who converts Florio and teaches him
Christian doctrine speaks with the same faith of Saturn and the
Trojan war, while Mars and Venus are never named without the epithet
of _Santi_, and S. James of Compostella is "il Dio che viene adorato
in Galizia."
In spite, however, of its faults of prolixity and preciosity, the
_Filocolo_ has, as I have said, this much interest for us to-day,
that in the finest episode, that of the _Questioni d' Amore_,
it prophesies the _Decameron_. In the course of his search for
Biancofiore, Florio, it will be remembered, comes to Naples, where
in a beautiful garden he finds Fiammetta and her lover Galeone.
There, amid a joyful company, he assists at a festa given in his
honour, where thirteen questions are proposed by four ladies--Cara,
Pola, and Graziosa, and one dressed in _bruni vestimenti_; and nine
gentlemen--Filocolo, Longanio, Menedon, Clonico, Galeone, Feramonte,
Duke of Montorio, Ascalione, Parmenione, and Massalino.[223] It is
Fiammetta's task to resolve these questions. Neither the tales nor
the questions which rise out of them are entirely new. For instance,
Galeone asks: "Whether a man for his own good ought to fall in
love or no?" Feramonte demands: "Whether a young man should love a
married woman, a maiden, or a widow?" It is not indeed so much in the
questions as in the stories and the assembly we are interested, for
they announce the _Decameron_, the whole of which, as Bartoli[224]
says, is contained in the _Questioni d' Amore_.[225]
The first edition of the _Filocolo_ was published in Venice in 1472
by Gabriele di Piero, with a life of Boccaccio written by Girolamo
Squarciafico. A French translation appeared in 1542 by Adrien Sevin.
It was translated again in 1554 by I. Vincent (Paris, 1554, Michel
Fezandat).
* * * * *
The _Filocolo_ was written in prose. In his next venture[226]
Boccaccio, who had no doubt already written many songs for Fiammetta,
attempted a story in verse. It is written in _ottave_, and was begun
during the earlier and brighter period of his love.[227] "You are
gone suddenly to Samnium," he writes in the dedication to Fiammetta,
"and ... I have sought in the old histories what personage I might
choose as messenger of my secret and unhappy love, and I have found
Troilus son of Priam, who loved Criseyde. His miseries are my
history. I have sung them in light rhymes and in my own Tuscan, and
so when you read the lamentations of Troilus and his sorrow at the
departure of his love, you shall know my tears, my sighs, my agonies,
and if I vaunt the beauties and the charms of Criseyde you will know
that I dream of yours." Well, the intention of the poem is just
that. It is an expression of his love. He is tremendously interested
in what he has suffered; he wishes her to know of it, he is eager
to tell of his experiences, his pains and joys. The picture is the
merest excuse, a means of self-expression. And yet in its exquisite
beauty of sentiment and verse it is one of the loveliest of his
works. The following is an outline of the narrative.
During the siege of Troy, Calchas, priest of Apollo, deserts to the
Greek camp,[228] and leaves his daughter Criseyde, the young and
beautiful widow, in Troy.[229] Troilus sees her there in the temple
of Minerva,[230] and falls in love. By good luck he finds that
Criseyde is a cousin of his dear friend Pandarus, whom he immediately
makes his confidant,[231] obtaining from him the promise that he will
help him.[232] Pandarus goes slowly and cautiously to work. He first
persuades Criseyde to let herself be seen by Troilus,[233] and when
this does not satisfy his friend he shows himself rich in resource.
At his suggestion Troilus writes to Criseyde and he bears the letter.
He spares no way of persuading her, who at first swearing "per la
mia salute" that she will never consent, consents and makes Troilus
happy.[234]
Almost all the third Canto is devoted to a description of the
happiness of the two lovers.
"Poi che ciascun sen fu ito a dormire,
E la casa rimasta tutta cheta,
Tosto parve a Griseida di gire
Dov' era Troilo ni parte segreta,
Il qual, com' egli la sentì venire,
Drizzato ni piè, e con la faccia lieta
Le si fe' incontro, tacito aspettando,
Per esser presto ad ogni suo comando.
"Avea la donna un torchio in mano acceso,
E tutta sola discese le scale,
E Troilo vide aspettarla sospeso,
Cui ella salutò, poi disse, quale
Ella potè: signor, se io ho offeso,
In parte tale il tuo splendor reale
Tenendo chiuso, pregoti per Dio,
Che mi perdoni, dolce mio disio.
"A cui Troilo disse: donna bella
Sola speranza e ben della mia mente,
Sempre davanti m' è stata la stella
Del tuo bel viso splendido e lucente,
E stata m' è più casa particella
Questa, che 'l mio palagio certamente;
E dimandar perdono a ciò non tocca;
Poi l' abbracciò e baciaronsi in bocca.
"Non si partiron prima di quel loco
Che mille volta insieme s' abbracciaro
Con dolce festa e con ardente gioco,
Ed altrettante vie più si baciaro,
Siccome que' ch' ardevan d' ugual foco,
E che l' un l' altro molto aveva caro;
Ma come l' accoglienze si finiro,
Salir le scale e'n camera ne giro.
"Lungo sarebbe a raccontar la festa
E impossibile a dire il diletto
Che insieme preser pervenuti in questa:
E' si spogliarono e entraron nel letto;
Dove la donna nell' ultima vesta
Rimasa già, con piacevole detto
Gli disse: speglio mio, le nuove spose
Son la notte primiera vergognose.
"A cui Troilo disse: anima mia,
I' te ne prego, sì ch' io t' abbia in braccio
Ignuda sì come il mio cor disia.
Ed ella allora: ve' che me ne spaccio;
E la camicia sua gittata via,
Nelle sue braccia si raccolse avaccio
E strignendo l' un l' altro con fervore,
D' amor sentiron l' ultimo valore.
"O dolce notte, e molto disiata,
Chente fostu alli due lieti amanti!"[235]
* * * * *
But the happiness of the Trojan prince does not last. Calchas, who
desires to see his daughter, contrives that she shall come to him
in an exchange of prisoners. Inexpressible is the sorrow of Troilus
when he learns of this design.[236] He prays the gods, if they wish
to punish him, to take from him his brother Hector or Polissena, but
to leave him his Criseyde.[237] Nor is Criseyde less affected.[238]
Pandarus, when appealed to, suggests that Troilus shall take the
girl, if need be, by force: a marriage seems to have been out of the
question.
"Pensato ancora avea di domandarla
Di grazia al padre mio che la mi desse;
Poi penso questo fora un accusarla,
E far palese le cose commesse;
Nè spero ancora ch' el dovesse darla,
Sì per non romper le cose promesse,
E perchè la direbbe diseguale
A me, al qual vuol dar donna reale."[239]
In fact, Cassandra has already discovered that her brother is in
love with a lady of no birth, the daughter of a wretched and vulgar
priest. So Troilus decides to have a last meeting with Criseyde
before she goes, to contrive with her what is to be done. At this
meeting the lovers swear eternal fidelity[240] and Criseyde promises
to return to him in Troy in ten days' time. Then in that same day
Diomede delivers one prisoner and takes Criseyde back with him to the
Greek camp.
Now Troilus is alone with his sorrow. He visits all the places that
remind him of Criseyde, and this pilgrimage is described in some of
the most splendid verses of the poem:--[241]
"Quindi sen gì per Troia cavalcando
E ciascun luogo gliel tornava a mente;
De' quai con seco giva ragionando:
Quivi rider la vidi lietamente;
Quivi la vidi verso me guardando:
Quivi mi salutò benignamente;
Quivi far festa e quivi star pensosa,
Quivi la vidi a? miei sospir pietosa.
"Colà istava, quand' ella mi prese
Con gli occhi belli e vaghi con amore;
* * * * *
"Colà la vidi altiera, e là umile
Mi si mostrò la mia donna gentile."
So he passes the time. In vain Pandarus seeks to distract him;[242]
in vain he seeks to comfort himself with making verses; the
longing to see Criseyde again is stronger than anything else.
[Illustration: MARCUS MANLIUS HURLED FROM THE TARPEIAN ROCK
_An English woodcut from Lydgate's "Falles of Princes." (Pynson,
London, 1527.) It is a copy in reverse from the French translation of
the "De Casibus." (Du Pré, Paris. 1483.) (By the courtesy of Messrs.
J. & J. Leighton.)_]
At last the ten days pass, and Criseyde ought to return to Troy.
Troilus awaits her at dawn at the gate of the city; but in vain: she
does not come. He consoles himself, however, by thinking that perhaps
she has forgotten to count the days and will come to-morrow. But
neither does she come on the morrow. Thus he awaits her for a whole
week in vain at the gate of the city, till at last in despair he
resolves to take his own life.[243]
Meanwhile Criseyde, from the day of her departure, has passed the
time much better than Troilus. For in truth she has consoled herself
with Diomede, who, after the first four days, has easily made her
forget the Trojan. She does not wish, however, that Troilus should
know she has broken faith. She answers his letters and puts him off
with words and excuses.
"My love with words and errors still she feeds,
But edifies another with her deeds."[244]
This sort of deception, however, cannot last long. Troilus grows
more and more suspicious, till one day Deiphebus having fought with
Diomede, he brings into Troy a clasp taken from the Greek which
Troilus recognises as the same he had given to Criseyde, and is
persuaded of her falsity.[245] So he resolves to avenge himself on
Diomede. In every encounter he rushes headlong on the foe, achieving
miracles of valour, seeking everywhere for Diomede; but fate is
against him even here, and he falls at last unavenged, but at least
by the noble hand of Achilles.[246]
"The wraththe, as I began yow for to seye
Of Troilus, the Grekes boughten dere;
For thousands his hondes maden deye
As he that was with-outen any pere,
Save Ector, in his tyme, as I can here.
But weylaway save only goddes will
Dispitously him slough the fiers Achille."[247]
Thus ends this simple work. In it we see an extraordinary advance
on the _Filocolo_ and the _Teseide_, both of which were possibly
planned and begun before the _Filostrato_ and finished later, for
there is a fine unity about the last which suggests that it was begun
and ended without intervention. Certainly here Boccaccio has freed
himself from all the mythological nonsense of those works as well as
from the lay figures and ghosts of knights who take antique names and
follow impossible ways. Here are real people of flesh and blood, and
among them nothing is finer than the study of Criseyde. She is as
living as any figure in the _Decameron_ itself. We see her first as a
widow mourning for a husband she has altogether forgotten; yet when
Pandarus makes his first overtures, she pleads her bereavement, while
she reads with delight the letters Troilus sends her, and is already
contriving in her little head how and when she shall meet him. She
tries to make Pandarus think she is doing everything out of pity, but
in her mind she has already decided to give everything to her lover,
although she writes him that she is "desirous to please him so far
as she may with safety to her honour and chastity." Then, as soon
as she has left Troy weeping, and Diomede has revealed his love to
her, she forgets Troilus because the Greek "was tall and strong and
beautiful":--
"Egli era grande e bel della persona,
Giovane fresco e piacevole assai
E forte e fier siccome si ragiona....
E ad amor la natura aveva prona."[248]
So she takes him, but even to him she lies, for she tells him she
has loved and been loved by no one but her dead husband, whom she
served loyally:--
"Amore io non conobbi, poi morio
Colui al qual lealmente il servai,
Sì come a marito e signor mio;
Nè Greco nè Troian mai non curai
In cotal fatto, nè me m' è in disio
Curarne alcuno, nè mi fia giammai...."[249]
This character, vain, false, and light, but absolutely living and a
very woman, is opposed to the loyal character of Pandarus, and is
doubtless subtly modelled without too much exaggeration on that of
Fiammetta. In direct contrast to it is the character of Troilus, the
most beautiful in the poem: so eager, so ardent, so perfectly youth
itself. He knows no country, no religion, no filial affection, but
lives and sees only Criseyde. Every day he will thrust himself into
the thickest of the fight in search of glory that he may lay it at
her feet and win her praise. It is love that has made him a hero,
as it made Boccaccio a poet: but both Criseyde and Fiammetta were
women; what should they care for that? Troilus is a real creation,
the first of those marvellous living figures who later people the
_Decameron_: the first and the most charming, the most youthful, the
most beautiful. But the whole poem is marvellously original alike in
its characters and in its versification.
As for the story, Boccaccio, it seems, got it partly from Benoît
de Sainte-More, whose _Roman de Troie_ had been composed from the
uncertainly dated works of "Dictys Cretensis" and "Dares Phrygius,"
and partly from the prose Latin _Hystoria Troiana_ of Guido delle
Colonne; there is certainly nothing of the _Iliad_ there. But the
_Filostrato_ is really an original composition, owing little or
nothing to any previous work. If there be any imitations to be found
in it they are not of the _Roman de Troie_ or of Guido delle Colonne,
but of Dante:[250] the _Divine Comedy_ even at this time having cast
its shadow over Boccaccio.
In the ninth and last book of the poem, which is not indeed a part of
it, but rather a sort of epilogue, he dedicates his work to Fiammetta,
"Alla donna gentil della mia mente,"
and tells her that she may find there his own tears and sighs because
of--
"De' suoi begli occhi i raggi chiari,
Mi si occultaron per la sua partenza
Che lieto sol vivea di lor presenza."
These words to some extent date the poem, which was apparently
finished before Fiammetta had betrayed him, and it seems likely even
that he had not as yet obtained from her the favours he valued so
highly and of which she was so generous to so many. These are the
reasons why I have considered the _Filostrato_ so early a work in
spite of its perfection.
The poem was published for the first time about 1480 by Luca Veneto
in Venice; it was translated into French[251] by Louis de Beauveau,
Seneschal d'Anjou, and as we shall see, Chaucer drew from it his
exquisite poem _Troilus and Criseyde_.
* * * * *
In turning now to the _Teseide_ we come apparently to the third work,
in point of time, of Boccaccio's youth. In the _Filocolo_, itself a
labour of love, he has told us of his first joy; in the _Filostrato_
of his hopes, torments, doubts, and waiting; in the _Teseide_ we see
the agonies of his jealousy. It was written to some extent under the
influence of Virgil as we should suppose, since it was begun, as we
may think, in the shadow of his tomb when Boccaccio had left the
city of Naples,[252] and it proves indeed to be written in twelve
books, and to have precisely the same number of lines as the _Æneid_,
namely 9896; it is therefore about twice as long as the _Filostrato_.
It is prefaced by a letter "To Fiammetta," in which he tells us why
he has written the poem, while "thinking of past joy in present
misery." The work professes to be a story of ancient times, and to
be concerned with the love two brothers in arms, Palemon and Arcite,
bear Emilia; but this is merely an excuse. "It is to please you," he
tells Fiammetta, "that I have composed this love story." Was it with
some idea of winning back her love by this stupendous manuscript?
How charming and how naive, how like Giovanni too; but how absurd to
dream of thus influencing Fiammetta. Did she ever read these nine
thousand odd verses? _Che! che!_
The story is meagrely as follows:--
In the barbarous land of Scythia,[253] on the shores of the Black
Sea, dwelt the Amazons under Ippolyta, their queen. Now certain
Greeks cast up on that coast in a tempest had been ill-treated there,
and Theseus, Duke of Athens, undertakes a war of vengeance against
that kingdom, and in spite of a valorous defence conquers it.[254]
His price of peace is absolute submission and the hand of the Queen
Ippolyta. And it was so, and many of the Greeks too, longing for
women after the campaign, married also. And when Theseus had lived in
peace there with his wife Ippolyta for more than a year,[255] scarce
thinking of Athens, his friend Peritoo appeared to him in a dream
urging his return. So he set out and came to Athens with Ippolyta and
her younger sister Emilia.
Scarcely is he come to Athens when he is urged by a deputation of
the Greek princesses to declare war on Creon, who will not permit
the burial rites to be performed for those who fell in the war of
succession. Theseus conquers Thebes and Creon is killed, the bodies
of the Greek princes are solemnly burned and their ashes conserved.
So far the introduction, in which Boccaccio has followed tradition
with an almost perfect faithfulness: now begins his own work, to
which these adventures of Theseus are but the preface.
Two youths of the royal Theban stock, Palemon and Arcite, have been
made prisoners by Theseus and taken to Athens. There they see from
the window of their prison the beautiful Emilia of the blonde hair,
sister of the Amazonian queen. She is walking in the garden when they
see her and she them. She quickly finds that she likes to be admired,
and in all innocence coquets with the two young prisoners,[256] who
for six months lament their love without hope.
Now as it happens, by the help of Peritoo, Arcite is set at liberty,
on condition that he goes into exile and only returns to Athens under
pain of death. Profoundly sorrowful to leave Emilia, he sets out in
company with some esquires as a knight-errant, and wanders all over
Greece, until at last his love compels him to return to Athens.[257]
Once more in Athens, he enters the service of Theseus, undiscovered
and unknown, but that the little Emilia recognises him, though she
does not betray him. He is, however, discovered and betrayed by
his own imprudence. For he arouses the jealousy of Palemon, who
escapes from his prison, and finding his friend and rival in a wood,
forces him to fight in order to decide who shall have Emilia.[258]
[Illustration: THE TITLE OF THE "NOBLES MALHEUREUX" (DE CASIBUS).
(PARIS, 1538)
_(By the courtesy of Messrs. J. & J. Leighton)_]
While they were calling on Mars, Venus, and Emilia,[259] in the
same way as the Christian knights called on Madonna and their lady,
suddenly Emilia, who was hunting in that very wood, came upon them,
and they, made fiercer by her presence, start in earnest.[260] But at
last Theseus arrives called by Emilia, to end the combat and learn
the cause of the quarrel. Hearing it he pardons them, for he himself
has been young and has loved too, but he attaches to his pardon a
condition, to wit, that each of them, aided by a hundred knights,
shall combat in public for Emilia's hand.[261]
The young lovers must send into all lands messengers to enrol two
hundred knights,[262] and these at last are gathered together in the
place of combat. Among the rest came Peleus, still a youth, the great
twin brethren Castor and Pollux, Agamemnon and Paris, Narcissus,
Nestor, Ulysses, Pygmalion, prince of Tyre, Sichæus, Minos, and
Rhadamanthus, who have abandoned their judgment seats in Orcus to
witness the fight. Indeed, as Landau has well said, if Homer had been
there, he would certainly have been delighted to find again so many
he had known of old, but he would also have marvelled to find among
them so many _jongleurs_.
Before beginning the struggle Theseus, Palemon, and Arcite hold long
discourses; the two rivals and Emilia recite long prayers.
The prayer of Arcite is to Mars, who lives in the mists of Thrace
amid snow and ice. There in a thick wood of stout oaks stands his
palace of iron with gates of diamond, at which mount guard Mad Fury,
Murder, and Eternal Anger red as fire.
On the other hand, Palemon's prayer is to Venus, who lives in a
garden full of fountains and streams and singing birds. There meet
Grace, Courtesy, Delight, Beauty, Youth, and Mad Ardour. At the
entrance sits Madonna _Pace_ (Peace), and near her Patience and
Cunning in Love. Within, however, Jealousy tortures his victims;
while the door which leads to the sanctuary where Venus reposes
between Bacchus and Ceres is guarded by Riches.[263]
The tourney is then described in the usual way, and ends in the
defeat of Palemon. However, as Arcite only asked Mars for victory,
he cannot enjoy it or its fruit. Palemon, it seems, asked not for
victory, but that he might have Emilia. So the gods decide it. And
therefore Venus sends a Fury who throws Arcite, and he is mortally
wounded after his victory.[264] Before his death, however, he is
married to Emilia,[265] makes his will, in which he leaves his wife
and fortune to his friend and rival, and ends by swearing to him
that he has only had of Emilia a single kiss.[266] After this Arcite
is buried with great pomp, and tourneys are held in his honour, and
there follows the marriage of Emilia and Palemon.[267]
What are we to make of such a work as this? Ambitious and complicated
though it be, it is out of all comparison feebler than the simple
tale of Troilus and Criseyde. Nor has it the gift of life, nor the
subtle characterisation of the _Filostrato_. The two youths Palemon
and Arcite are alike in their artificiality; they have never breathed
the air we breathe, and we care nothing for or against them. And it
would be the same with Emilia, but that her absolute stupidity angers
us, and we soon come to find her unbearable. She is always praying
the gods to give her the man she loves for a husband, but she herself
is absolutely ignorant which of the two he may be. But it might seem
that the last thing Boccaccio thought of here was the creation of an
impersonal work of art. His intention was rather to express his own
sufferings. In the agonies of Palemon and Arcite he wished Fiammetta
to see his own misery; and it may be that in the protection of Venus
by which Palemon got at last what he most desired, he wished to tell
Fiammetta that he too expected to triumph, even then, by virtue of
his passion, the singleness of his love. Certainly, he seemed to say,
you are worthy of the love of heroes, but it is the heart of a poet
that Venus protects and satisfies; then give me your grace, since
I am so faithful. That something of this sort was in his mind is
obvious from the dedicatory letter to Fiammetta.[268]
As for the sources from which Boccaccio had the tale, we have
seen that he certainly knew the _Thebais_ of Statius,[269] but
it was not only from Statius that he borrowed; he used also, as
Crescini[270] has proved, the _Roman de Thèbes_, especially towards
the end of his poem. Nor must we altogether pass over the influence
of the _Æneid_, in which he found not only the form, but often the
substance of his work.[271] The first edition of the _Teseide_,
full of faults, was published in Ferrara in 1475 by Pietro Andrea
Bassi. As for translations, there have been many, the first being a
Greek version issued in Venice in 1529. There followed an Italian
prose paraphrase published in Lucca in 1579; while in 1597 a French
version was published in Paris. The most famous translation or rather
paraphrase was made, however, by Chaucer for the Knight's Tale in the
_Canterbury Tales_; and of this I speak elsewhere.
* * * * *
In the shadow of Virgil's tomb, in a classic country still full of
an old renown, Boccaccio had followed classic models, had written
two epics and a romance in the manner of Apuleius; but in Tuscany,
the country of Dante and Petrarch, he came under the influence of
different work, and we find him writing pastorals. The _Ameto_ is a
pastoral romance written in prose scattered with verses, and to the
superficial reader it cannot but be full of weariness. The action
takes place in the country about Florence under the hills of Fiesole
in the woods there, and begins with the description of the rude
hunter Ameto (ἄδμητος), who only thinks of the chase and of the way
through the forest[272]. Then he comes upon a nymph, Lia by name, and
scarcely has he seen her and heard her sing than he loves her. After
many pages of description of the love of Ameto, the struggle between
his love and his timidity, he tells Lia at last that he loves her,
and makes her accompany him in the chase. Winter comes, however, and
separates them. But in the spring Ameto finds her again near a temple
in which are gathered a company of fauns, dryads, satyrs, and naiads.
There too in a private place a party of nymphs and shepherds meet
close to Ameto and Lia. Many pages of description follow concerning
each of the six nymphs, Mopsa, Emilia, Fiammetta, Acrimonia, Agapes,
and Adiona. These descriptions are very wearying, for they are
almost exactly alike, so like, indeed, that we may think Boccaccio
was describing one woman and that Fiammetta. One after another these
nymphs tell their amorous adventures, and each closes her account
with a song in _terza rima_. Then Venus appears in the form of a
column of fire,[273] and Ameto not being able to support the sight of
the goddess, the nymphs come to his aid. When he is himself again, he
prays the goddess to be favourable to his love.
Till now the pagan and sensual character of the book is complete, but
here Ameto suddenly sees the error of his ways, all is changed in a
moment, the spiritual beauty of the nymphs seems to him to surpass
altogether their physical beauty. He understands that their loves
are not men; the gods and temples about which they discourse are not
those of the Pagans, and he is ashamed to have loved one of them as
he might have loved any mortal girl. Then suddenly he breaks into
a hymn in honour of the Trinity, and they all return to their own
homes. Thus the work ends without telling us of the fate of Ameto or
the nymphs.
The book, however, full as it is of imitations of Dante, is an
allegory within an allegory. The nymphs and shepherds are not real
people, but it seems personifications of the four cardinal virtues
and the three theological virtues and their opposites. Thus Mopsa
is Wisdom, and she loves Afron, Foolishness; Emilia is Justice, and
she loves Ibrida, Pride; Adiona is Temperance, and she loves Dioneo,
Licence; Acrimonia is Fortitude, and she loves Apaten, Insensibility;
Agapes is Charity, and she loves Apiros, Indifference; Fiammetta is
Hope, and she loves Caleone, Despair; Lia is Faith, and she loves
Ameto, Ignorance. In their songs the seven nymphs praise and exalt
the seven divinities that correspond to the seven virtues which they
impersonate; thus Pallas is praised by Mopsa (Wisdom), Diana by
Emilia (Justice), Pomona by Adiona (Temperance), Bellona by Acrimonia
(Fortitude), Venus by Agapes (Charity), Vesta by Fiammetta (Hope),
and Cibele by Lia (Faith). The whole action of the work then becomes
symbolical, and Boccaccio, it has been said, had the intention of
showing that a man, however rude and savage, can find God only by
means of the seven virtues which are the foundation of all morals.
If such were his intention he has indeed chosen strange means of
carrying it out. The stories of the seven nymphs are extremely
licentious, and all confess that they do not love their husbands
and are seeking to make the shepherds fall in love with them. All
this is, as we see, obscure, medieval, and far-fetched. Let it be
what it may be. It is not in this allegory we shall find much to
interest us, but in certain other allusions in which the work is
rich. Thus we shall note that Fiammetta is Hope, and that she gives
Hope to Caleone, who is Despair. That Caleone is Boccaccio himself
there can be no manner of doubt. We see then that at the time the
_Ameto_ was written he still had some hope of winning Fiammetta
again. In fact in the _Ameto_ Fiammetta has the mission of saving
Caleone from death, for he is resolved to kill himself. I have
spoken of the autobiographical allusions in the _Ameto_, however,
elsewhere.[274] It will be sufficient to say here that the _Ameto_
was written, as Boccaccio himself tells us, in order that he might
tell freely without regret or fear what he had seen and heard. It is
all his life that we find in the stories of the nymphs. Emilia tells
of Boccaccino's love for Jeanne (Gannai), his desertion of her, his
marriage, and his ruin. Fiammetta tells how her mother was seduced by
King Robert, who is here called Midas.[275] Then she describes the
passion of Caleone (Boccaccio), his nocturnal surprise of her, and
his triumph. The work is in fact a complete biography; and since this
is so, there are in fact no sources from which it can be said to be
derived. We find there some imitations of the _Divine Comedy_, some
hints from Ovid and Virgil, of Moschus and Theocritus. The _Ameto_
was dedicated to Niccola di Bartolo del Bruno, his "only friend in
time of trouble." It was first published in small quarto in Rome in
1478. It has never been translated into any language.
[Illustration: FRONTISPIECE OF THE "DECAMERON." (VENICE, 1492)]
* * * * *
There follows the _Amorosa Visione_, which was almost certainly begun
immediately after the _Ameto_; at any rate, all modern authorities
are agreed that it was written between 1341 and 1344. It recalls
the happier time of his love, and Fiammetta is the very soul of
the poem. Written in _terza rima_, not its only likeness to the
_Divine Comedy_, it is dedicated to Maria d'Aquino (Fiammetta) in
an acrostic, which is solved by reading the initial letters of the
first verse of each _terzina_; the result being two sonnets and a
ballata.[276] The name of "Madonna Maria" is formed by the initials
of the twelfth to the twenty-second _terzine_ of chapter x, and the
name "Fiamma" by those of the twenty-fifth to the thirty-first of
chapter xiii. Here is no allegory at all, but a clear statement; the
three last lines of the first sonnet reading:--
"Cara Fiamma, per cui 'l core ò caldo,
Que' che vi manda questa Visione
Giovanni è di Boccaccio da Certaldo."
As the title proclaims, the poem is a Vision--a vision which Love
discovers to the poet-lover. While he is falling asleep a lady
appears to him who is to be his guide. He follows her in a dream, and
together they come to a noble _castello_; there by a steep stairway
they enter into the promised land, as it were, of Happiness, choosing
not the wearying road of Good to the left, but passing through a
wide portal into a spacious room on the right, whence come delicious
sounds of _festa_. Two youths, one dressed in white, the other in
red, after disputing with his guide, lead him into the _festa_, where
he sees four triumphs--of Wisdom, of Fame, of Love, and of Fortune.
In the triumph of Wisdom he sees all the learned men, philosophers,
and poets of the world, among them Homer, Virgil, and Cicero,
Horace, Sallust, Livy, Galen, Cato, Apuleius, Claudian, Martial, and
Dante.[277] In the triumph of Fame he sees all the famous heroes and
heroines of Antiquity and the Middle Age, among them Saturn, Electra,
Baal, Paris, Absalom, Hecuba, Brutus, Jason, Medea, Hannibal,
Cleopatra, Cornelia, Giulia, and Solomon, Charlemagne, Charles of
Apulia, and Corradino.[278] The uniformity of the descriptions is
pleasantly interrupted by certain apparitions, among them Robert of
Naples[279] and Boccaccino,[280] besides a host of priests.[281] Once
in speaking of the sufferings of poverty he seems to be writing of
his own experiences:--
"Ha! lasso, quanto nelli orecchi fioco
Risuona altrui il senno del mendico,
Nè par che luce o caldo abbia 'l suo foco.
E 'l più caro parente gli è nemico,
Ciascun lo schifa, e se non ha moneta,
Alcun non è che 'l voglia per amico."[282]
After all, it is the experience of all who have been poor for a
season.
There follows the triumph of Love, in which he sees all the fortunate
and unfortunate lovers famous in poetry from the mythology of Greece
to Lancelot and Guinevere, and Tristram and Iseult; and among these
he sees Fiammetta.
So we pass to the triumph of Fortune, in which we learn the stories
of Thebes, of Troy, of Carthage, of Alexander, of Pompey, of Niobe,
and we are told of the inconstancy of terrestrial things.[283] And
thus disillusioned, the poet makes the firm resolve to follow his
guide in spite of every temptation. Yet almost at once a certain
beautiful garden destroys his resolve. For he enters there and finds
a marvellous fountain of marble, and a company of fair women who are
presented to him under mysterious pseudonyms.[284] Among these are
the _bella Lombarda_, the Lia of the _Ameto_, and finally the lady
who writes her name in letters of gold in the heart of the poet.[285]
And this lady he chooses for his sun, with the approval of his guide,
who seems to have forgotten, as he has certainly done, the resolves
so lately taken. However, the guide now discreetly leaves him in a
somewhat compromising position; and it is thus Fiammetta who leads
him into the abandoned road of virtue.[286] These _Trionfi_ were
written before the _Trionfi_ of Petrarch, and their true source is to
be found not in any of Petrarch's work, but in the _Divine Comedy_
and in the sources Dante used.[287] Boccaccio has evidently studied
the great poem very closely. He imitates it not only in motives and
symbols and words, but, as we have seen, in the form of his verse,
and to some extent in the construction of his poem, which consists of
fifty _capitoli_, each composed of twenty-nine _terzine_ and a verse
of _chiusa_, that is of eighty-eight verses in each.
The first edition was published in Milan in 1521 with an _Apologia
contro ai detrattori della poesia del Boccaccio_ by Girolamo Claricio
of Imola. No translation has ever been made.[288]
* * * * *
We turn now to the _Fiammetta_,[289] which must have been the last
of the works directly concerned with his passion for Maria d'Aquino.
Crescini[290] thinks it was written in 1343, but others[291] assure
us that it is later work.[292] Crescini's argument is, however, so
formidable that we shall do better to accept his conclusions and to
consider the _Fiammetta_ as a work of this first Florentine period.
Though concerned with the same subject, his love, the allegory
is worth noting, for while in all the other books concerned with
Fiammetta he assures us he was betrayed by her, here he asserts that
Panfilo (himself) betrayed Fiammetta! Moreover, he warns us that here
he speaks the truth,[293] but in fact it is only here he is a liar.
It is impossible to believe that every one had not penetrated his
various disguises, and he must have known that this was, and would
be, so. Wishing, then, both to revenge and to vindicate himself--for
his "betrayal" still hurt him keenly--and guessing that Fiammetta
would read the book, he tells us that it was he who left her, not she
him. The book then is very amusing for us who are behind the scenes,
as it was, doubtless, for many of those who read it in his day.
The action is very simple, the story being told by Fiammetta as
though it were an autobiography. It begins with a dream in which
Fiammetta is warned that great unhappiness is in store for her. She
knows Panfilo,[294] and suddenly there arises between them an eager
love. Warned of the danger they run in entertaining so impetuous a
passion, they yet take no heed; till quite as suddenly as it had
begun, their love is broken. Panfilo must go away, it seems, being
recalled to Florence by his old father. In vain Fiammetta tries to
detain him; she can only obtain from him a promise that he will
return to Naples in four months. The ingenious lying in that!
All alone she passes her days and nights in weeping. The four months
pass and Panfilo does not come back to her. One day she hears from a
merchant that he has taken a wife in Florence. This news increases
her agony, and she asks aid of Venus. Then her husband, seeing her
to be ill, but unaware of the cause of her sufferings, takes her to
Baia; but no distraction helps her, and Baia only reminds her of the
bygone days she spent there with Panfilo. At last she hears from
a faithful servant come from Florence that Panfilo has not taken
a wife, that the young woman in his house is the new wife of his
old father; but it seems though he be unmarried he is in love with
another lady, which is even worse. New jealousy and lamentations
of Fiammetta. She refuses to be comforted and thinks only of death
and suicide, and even tries to throw herself from her window, but
is prevented. Finally the return of Panfilo is announced. Fiammetta
thanks Venus and adorns herself again. She waits; but Panfilo does
not come, and at last she is reduced to comforting herself by
thinking of all those who suffer from love even as she. The work
closes with a sort of epilogue.
As a work of art the _Fiammetta_ is the best thing Boccaccio has
yet achieved. The psychology is fine, subtle, and full of insight,
but not so dramatic nor so simple and profound as that in the
_Filostrato_. He shows again that he understands a woman's innermost
nature, her continual doubts of herself, her gift of introspection.
The torment of soul that a deserted woman suffers, the helpless fury
of jealousy, are studied and explained with marvellous knowledge and
coolness. The husband, who, ignorant of all, is so sorry for his
wife's unhappiness, and seeks to console and comfort her, really
lives and is the fine prototype of a lot of base work done later in
which the cruel absurdity of the situation and the ridiculous figure
he cuts who plays his part in it are insisted on. In fact, in the
_Fiammetta_ we find many of the finest features of the _Decameron_.
It is the first novel of psychology ever written in Europe.
[Illustration: CHAPTER HEADING FROM THE "DECAMERON." (VENICE, 1492)]
The sources of the _Fiammetta_ are hard and perhaps impossible
to trace. It seems to have no forbears.[295] One thinks of Ovid's
_Heroides_, but that has little to do with it. Among the minor works
of Boccaccio it is the one that has been most read. First published
in Padova in 1472, it was translated into English in 1587 by B.
Young.[296]
* * * * *
From this intense psychological novel Boccaccio seems to have turned
away with a sort of relief, the relief the poet always finds in mere
singing, to the _Ninfale Fiesolano_. Licentious, and yet full of a
marvellous charm, full of that love of nature, too, which is by no
means a mere convention, the _Ninfale Fiesolano_ is the most mature
of his poems in the vulgar tongue.
"Basterebbe," says Carducci,[297] "Basterebbe, io credo, il _Ninfale
Fiesolano_ perchè non fosse negato al Boccaccio l' onore di poeta
anche in versi." It was probably begun about 1342 in Florence, and
finished in Naples in 1346. The theme is still love:
"Amor mi fa parlar che m' è nel core
Gran tempo stato e fatto m' ha suo albergo,"
he tells us in the first lines. The story tells how the shepherd
Affrico falls in love with Mensola, nymph of Diana,[298] and how
the nymph, penitent for having broken her vow of chastity, abandons
the poor shepherd.[299] In desperation, Affrico kills himself on
the bank of the brook that has witnessed their happiness and that
is now called Affrico after him;[300] and Mensola, after bearing a
son, is changed too into the stream Mensola hard by.[301] Pruneo,
their offspring, when he is eighteen years old, enters the service of
Atlas, founder of Fiesole, who marries him to Tironea. She receives
as _dote_ the country between the Mensola and the Mugnone.[302]
The sources he drew from for this beautiful poem, so full of
learning, but fuller still of a genuine love of nature, prove to
us that it was, in its completeness, a mature work. It is derived
in part from the _Metamorphoses_ of Ovid, from the _Æneid_, and
from Achilles Tatius, a Greek romancer of Alexandria who lived in
the fifth century A.D.[303] Moreover, the _Ninfale_ is a pastoral
poem that is in no way at all concerned with chivalry; it is wholly
Latin, full of nature and the bright fields, expressed with a Latin
rhetoric. Curiously enough it has never had much success, especially
out of Italy; and though it be voluptuous, it is by no means the
immoral book it has been called.
This, as we have seen, is the third poem which Boccaccio wrote in
_ottave_, and it has been stated, not without insistence, that he was
in fact the inventor, or at any rate the renewer, of that metre in
Italian.[304]
The truth seems to lie with Baldelli. The Sicilians had written
_ottave_, but they had but two _rime_, and were akin to those of the
Provençals. What Boccaccio did was to take this somewhat arid scheme
and give it life by reforming it out of all recognition. Moreover, if
he was not actually the first poet to write _ottave_ in Italian, he
was the first to put them to epic use. There are in fact, properly
speaking, no Italian epics before the poems of Boccaccio.
As for the _Ninfale Fiesolano_, it was first published in Venice
in 1477 by Bruno Valla and Tommaso d' Alessandria. It has only
been translated once--into French--by Anton Guercin du Crest, who
published it in Lyons in 1556 at the shop of Gabriel Cotier. This was
apparently the last poem on which Boccaccio was engaged--though it
may have been put aside for the sake of the _Fiammetta_, and taken up
again--before, about 1344, it seems, he returned to Naples.
FOOTNOTES:
[212] _Ameto_, _ed. cit._, p. 254.
[213] Cf. CORAZZINI, _op. cit._, p. 17. This letter seems to be a
translation from the Latin.
[214] Possibly on the occasion of his father's second marriage (cf.
_Fiammetta_, _infra_), which was probably made for purely financial
reasons. The lady died possibly in the Black Death of 1348, certainly
before 1349. See _infra_.
[215] I write _Filocolo_ rather than _Filocopo_: see A. GASPARY,
_Filocolo oder Filocopo_ in _Zeitschrift für Rom. Phil._, III, p. 395.
[216] See _supra_, p. 43, and Appendix I. The view that it was
begun in 1336 is defended by RENIER, _La Vita Nuova e la Fiammetta_
(Torino, 1879), p. 238 _et seq._ That this was his first book we
might assert from the evidence of its form and style. He himself,
however, says in the Introduction: "E se le presenti cose a voi
giovani e donzelle generano ne' vostri animi alcun frutto o dilletto,
non siate ingrati di porgere divote laudi a Giove e al nuovo autore"
(_Filocolo_, _ed. cit._, Lib. I, p. 9).
[217] _Filocolo_, _ed. cit._, ii., Lib. V, p. 376.
[218] He takes the name of Filocolo because, as he tells us at the
end of Book III, _Filocolo_, _ed. cit._, I, 354, "such a name it
is certain suits me better than any other." He goes on to explain:
"Filocolo è da due greci nomi composto, da _philos_ e da _colos_;
_philos_ in greco tanto viene a dire in nostra lingua quanto amatore;
e _colos_ in greco similmente tanto in nostra lingua resulta quanto
fatica: onde congiunto insieme, si può dire trasponendo le parti,
Fatica d' Amore: e in cui più che in me fatiche d' amore sieno state
e siano al presente non so; voi l' avete potuto e potete conoscere
quante e quali esse sieno state, sicchè chiamandomi questo nome l'
effetto suo s' adempierà bene nella cosa chiamata, e la fama del
mio nome cosi s' occulterà, nè alcuno per quello spaventerà: e se
necessario forse in alcuna parte ci fia il nominarmi dirittamente,
non c' è però tolto."
[219] Cf. VIRGIL. _Æneid_, VI, 232 _et seq._
"At pius Æneas ingenti mole sepulcrum
Inponit, suaque arma viro remumque tubamque
Monte sub aereo, qui nunc Misenus ab illo
Dicitur æternumque tenet per sæcula nomen."
[220] _Supra_, p. 6 _et seq._ See _Filocolo_, _ed. cit._, II, Lib. V,
236 _et seq._
[221] In the French romance on which the _Filocolo_ is founded the
hero on his return imposes Christianity on his people, and those who
will not be converted he burns and massacres. Boccaccio has none of
this barbarism. Italy has never understood religious persecution. It
has always been imposed on her from outside--by Spain, for instance.
I do not forget the rubrics _de hereticis_ in so many of the Statutes
of the free Communes.
[222] _Floire et Blanceflor, poèmes du XIII. siècle, pub. d'après
les MSS._, etc., par EDÉLESTAND DU MÉRIL (Paris, 1856). I say from
whom he had the story, because it seems to me certain that in Naples
he must have seen or heard these poems. The Provençal troubadours,
especially Rambaldo di Vaqueiras, sang the loves of Florio and
Biancofiore, and Boccaccio himself in the _Filocolo_ affirms that
the legend was known and popular in Naples. It has been contended by
CLERC, _Discours sur l'état des lettres au XIV. siècle_ in _Hist.
Littér._, II, 97, that Boccaccio's work is only an imitation of the
French poems. This cannot be upheld. The legend was everywhere in
the Middle Age. It was derived from a Greek romance, and many of the
happenings and descriptions used by Boccaccio are to be found in the
Greek romances. Cf. ZUMBINI, _Il Filocolo_, in _Nuova Antologia_,
December, 1879, and January, 1880.
[223] It is perhaps unnecessary to remind the reader that it is seven
ladies and three gentlemen who tell the tales of the _Decameron_. Cf.
RAJNA, _L' Episodio delle Questioni d' Amore nel "Filocolo" del B._
in _Romania_, XXXI (1902), pp. 28-81.
[224] BARTOLI, _I precursi del B._ (Firenze, 1876), p. 64.
[225] An English translation of these _Questioni_ appeared in 1567
and was reprinted in 1587. The title runs: "Thirteen | Most pleasaunt
and | delecable Que | stions: entituled | a Disport of Diverse |
noble Personages written in Itali | an by M. John Boccacce Flo |
rentine and poet Laure | at, in his booke | named | Philocopo: |
English by H. G[rantham] | Imprinted at Lon | don by A.J. and are |
to be sold in Paules Church | yard, by Thomas | Woodcocke | 1587."
[226] The order of the production of these youthful works is
extremely uncertain. I do not believe it possible to give their true
order, because they were not necessarily begun and finished in the
same sequence. We may be sure that the _Filocolo_ is the first work
he began: it seems almost equally certain that the _Filostrato_ is
the first of his long poems. That no work was completed in Naples I
think equally certain; but it is possible that the _Ameto_, begun
in Florence, was finished before any other book. The _Filostrato_
was begun in Naples, but it s so much finer than the _Filocolo_ or
the _Ameto_, and is perhaps the finest work of his youth, that many
critics have wished to place it later.
[227] He writes in the dedication: "Filostrato è il titolo di questo
libro; e la cagione è, perchè ottimamente si confà cotal nome con l'
effetto del libro. Filostrato tanto viene a dire, quanto uomo vinto
ed abbattuto d' amore come vedere si può che fu Troilo, dell' amore
del quale in questo libro si racconta: perciocchè egli fu da amore
vinto si fortemente amando Griseida, e cotanto si afflisse nella sua
partita, che poco mancò che morte non le sorprendesse."
[228] _Filostrato_ (ed. Moutier), parte i. ott. viii.-ix. p. 14.
[229] _Ibid._, p. i. ott. xi.
"Una sua figlia vedova, la quale
Sì bella e si angelica a vedere
Era, che non parea cosa mortale,
Griseida nomata, al mio parere
Accorta, savia, onesta e costumata
Quanto altra che in Troia fosse nata."
[230] So had Boccaccio seen Fiammetta in S. Lorenzo di Napoli.
Criseyde was also "_in bruna vesta_," ott. xix.
[231] _Filostrato_, _ed. cit._, p. ii. ott. xix.-xx., pp. 37-8.
[232] _Ibid._, p. ii. ott. xxiii.-xxiv., p. 39.
[233] _Ibid._, p. ii. ott. lxiv.-lxvi., pp. 52-3.
[234] _Filostrato_, _ed. cit._, p. ii. ott. cxxxvi. _et seq._ Her
protestations, too long to quote here, are exquisite. They might be
Fiammetta's very words, or any woman's words.
[235] _Filostrato_, _ed. cit._, part iii. ott. xxvii-xxxii. pp.
88-90, and cf. CHAUCER, _Troilus and Criseyde_ (_Complete Works_, ed.
SKEAT, Oxford, 1901), Bk. III, st. 169-189.
[236] _Filistrato_, _ed. cit._, part iv. ott. xiv.-xviii. pp. 117-18.
[237] _Ibid._, part iv. ott. xxx.-xxxii. pp. 122-3.
[238] _Ibid._, part iv. ott. xciii.-xcv. pp. 143-4.
[239] _Filostrato_, _ed. cit._, part iv. ott. lxix. p. 135.
[240] _Ibid._, part iv. clxii.-clxiii. pp. 166-7.
[241] _Ibid._, part v. liv. _et seq._ The same idea is to be found
in the _Teseide_ and the _Fiammetta_. It is more than worth while
comparing these passages.
[242] _Ibid._, part v. xxxiv.-xlii.
[243] _Filostrato_, _ed. cit._, part vii. ott. vi., xi., xvi.,
xxxii.-xxxiii. pp. 208, 210, 212, 217.
[244] SHAKESPEARE, _Troilus and Cressida_, V, 3.
[245] _Filostrato_, _ed. cit._, part viii. xii.-xvi. pp. 247-8.
[246] _Ibid._, part viii. xxvii.
[247] CHAUCER, _Troilus and Criseyde_, Book V, st. 258.
[248] _Filostrato_, _ed. cit._, part vi. ott. xxxiii. p. 205.
[249] _Filostrato_, _ed. cit._, p. vi, ott. xxix. p. 204.
[250] Cf. e.g. _Filostrato_, _ed. cit._, p. iii. ott. i. p. 80, with
_Paradiso_, i. 13-27; or _Filostrato_, _ed. cit._, p. viii. ott.
xvii. p. 249, with _Purgatorio_, vi. 118-20. There are, however, very
many Dantesque passages. See _infra_, p. 253 _et seq._
[251] Cf. HORTIS, _Studi sulle op. Latine del B._ (Trieste, 1879), p.
595.
[252] See _supra_, p. 58.
[253] _Teseide_ (ed. Moutier), Lib. I, ott. 6, p. 11.
[254] _Ibid._, Lib. I, ott. 74-6, p. 34.
[255] _Ibid._, Lib. II, ott. 2, p. 57.
[256] _Teseide_, _ed. cit._, Lib. III, ott. 28-9, pp. 99-100.
[257] _Ibid._, Lib. IV, ott. 37, p. 131.
[258] _Ibid._, Lib. V, ott. 48, p. 166.
[259] _Teseide_, _ed. cit._, Lib. V, ott. 75, p. 175.
[260] _Ibid._, Lib. V, ott. 80, p. 177.
[261] _Ibid._, Lib. V, ott. 97, p. 182.
[262] _Ibid._, Lib. VI, ott. 11, p. 190.
[263] Cf. POLIZIANO, _Stanze_, Lib. I, st. 69-76.
[264] _Teseide_, _ed. cit._, Lib. IX, ott. 2-8, pp. 306-8.
[265] _Ibid._, Lib. IX, ott. 83, p. 333.
[266] _Ibid._, Lib. X, ott. 43, p. 348.
[267] _Ibid._, Lib. XII, ott. 69, p. 426.
[268] He says there: "E ch' ella da me per voi sia compilata, due
cose fra le altre il manifestano. L' una si è, che ciò che sotto il
nome dell' uno de' due amanti e della giovine amata si conta essere
stato, ricordandovi bene, e io a voi di me, e voi a me di voi (se non
mentiste) potrete conoscere essere stato fatto e detto in parte."
And consider the closing words of the letter: "Io procederei a molti
più preghi, se quella grazia, la quale io ebbi già in voi, non se
ne fosse andata. Ma perocchè io del niego dubito con ragione, non
volendo che a quell' uno che di sopra ho fatto, e che spero, siccome
giusto, di ottenere, gli altri nocessero, e senza essermene niuno
conceduto mi rimanessi, mi taccio; ultimamente pregando colui che mi
vi diede, allorachè io primieramente vi vidi, che se in lui quelle
forze sono che già furono, raccendendo in voi la spenta fiamma a me
vi renda, la quale, non so per che cagione, inimica fortuna mi ha
tolta."
[269] _Supra_, p. 58 _et seq._ Cf. the letter of 1338 or 1339 in
which he asks for a codex of the Thebais with a gloss: P. SAVI-LOPEZ,
_Sulle fonti delle Teseide_ in _Giornale Stor. della Lett. Ital._,
An. XXIII, fasc. 106-7; and CRESCINI, _op. cit._, pp. 220-47.
[270] CRESCINI, _op. cit._, pp. 234-5.
[271] In looking for the sources of the _Teseide_ one must not forget
what Boccaccio himself writes in the letter dedicatory to Fiammetta:
"E acciocchè l' opera sia verissimo testimonio alle parole,
ricordandomi che già ne' dì più felici che lunghi io vi sentii vaga
d' udire, e talvolta di leggere e una e altra storia, e massimamente
le amorose, siccome quella che tutta ardeva nel fuoco nel quale io
ardo (e questo forse faciavate, acciocchè i tediosi tempi con ozio
non fossono cagione di pensieri più nocevoli); come volonteroso
servidore, il quale non solamente il comandamento aspetta del suo
maggiore, ma quello, operando quelle cose che piacciono, previene:
trovata una antichissima storia, e al più delle genti non manifesta,
bella sì per la materia della quale parla, che è d' amore, e sì per
coloro de' quali dice che nobili giovani furono e di real sangue
discesi, in latino volgare e in rima acciocchè più dilettasse, e
massimamente a voi, che già con sommo titolo le mie rime esaltaste,
con quella sollecitudine che conceduta mi fu dell' altre più gravi,
desiderando di piacervi, ho ridotta."
[272] _Ameto_ (in _Opere Minori_, Milano, 1879), pp. 147-8.
[273] _Ibid._, pp. 246-7.
[274] See _supra_, p. 6.
[275] King Robert is always spoken of as living, so that one may
suppose the _Ameto_ to have been finished before January, 1343, for
the king died on the 19th. This, however, by no means certainly
follows.
[276] See Appendix IV.
[277] _Amorosa Visione_ (Moutier), cap. v. pp. 21-5.
[278] _Ibid._, caps. vii.-xii.
[279] _Ibid._, cap. xiii. p. 53.
[280] _Ibid._, cap. xiv. p. 58.
[281] _Ibid._, cap. xiv. p. 57.
[282] _Amorosa Visione_, _ed. cit._, cap. xiv. p. 59.
[283] _Ibid._, cap. xxxiii. p. 135.
[284] _Ibid._, caps. xl-xliv. For an explanation consult CRESCINI,
_op. cit._, pp. 114-41.
[285] _Ibid._, cap. xlv. p. 151
[286] "Ecco dunque," says CRESCINI (_op. cit._, p. 136), "il fine
della _mirabile visione_: mostrare che Madonna Maria è dal poeta
ritenuta un essere celeste sceso dall' alto alla salute di lui, che
errava perduto e sordo a' consigli delle ragione fra le mondane
vanità. Per farsi degno dell' amore di lei e delle gioie di questo
amore, egli ormai seguirà una virtù finora negletta, la fortezza
resisterà, cioè alle passioni e alle vanità mondane; e così per l'
influsso morale della sua donna procederà sulla strada faticosa, che
mena l' uomo al cielo."
[287] He borrows from Brunetto Latini's _Tesoretto_ (_ca._ 1294)
certain inventions and moral symbols. Cf. DOBELLI, _Il culto del B.
per Dante_ (Venezia, 1897), pp. 51-9.
[288] But see LANDAU, _op. cit._ (Ital. Trans.), p. 155.
[289] Note the beautiful names Boccaccio always found; especially the
beautiful women's names. We shall find this again in the _Decameron_.
[290] CRESCINI, _op. cit._, p. 154.
[291] _e.g._ LANDAU (_op. cit._, pp. 346, 404) and KOERTING (_op.
cit._, pp. 170-1, 568).
[292] BALDELLI (_op. cit._) thinks, however, that it was written
1344-5, after B.'s return to Naples, and RENIER (_La Vita Nuova e La
Fiammetta_, Torino, 1879, pp. 245-6) agrees with him.
[293] "... Quantunque io scriva cose verissime sotto si fatto ordine
l' ho disposte, che eccetto colui che così come io le sa, essendo
di tutto cagione, niuno altro, per quantunque avesse acuto l'
avvedimento, potrebbe chi io mi fossi conoscere" (cap. i.).
[294] "Pamphilius," writes Boccaccio, "græce, latine totus dicatur
amor"; cf. CORAZZINI, _op. cit._, p. 269. Panfilo also appears, as
does Fiammetta, in the _Decameron_, as we shall see; cf. GIGLI, _Il
Disegno del Decamerone_ (Livorno, 1907), p. 24, note 4.
[295] CRESCINI, _op. cit._, pp. 155-6.
[296] "Amorous Fiammetta, where is sette doune a catalogue of all and
singular passions of Love and Jealosie incident to an enamoured young
gentlewoman" ... done into English by B. Giovano [_i.e._ B. Young].
London, 1587. The only example I can find of this translation is in
the Bodleian Library; the British Museum has no copy.
[297] CARDUCCI, _Ai Parenteli di G. B._ in _Discorsi Letterari e
Storici_ (Bologna, 1889), p. 275.
[298] _Ninfale Fiesolano_ (Moutier), p. 1. ott. xiv.-xxxiii.
[299] _Ibid._, p. vi. ott. i.-v.
[300] _Ninfale Fiesolano_, _ed. cit._, p. vi. ott. xxx.-xlv.
[301] _Ibid._, p. vii. ott. iii.-vi. and ix.-xiii. The Mensola and
the Affrico are two small streams that descend from Monte Ceceri, one
of the Fiesolan hills, and are lost in the Arno, one not far from the
Barriera Settignanese, the other by Ponte a Mensola, near Settignano.
[302] _Ibid._, p. vii. ott. xxxiii.-xlix.
[303] See his romance, _Leucippe and Clectophon_, Lib. VIII, cap. 12.
[304] For the _ottava_ in Italy see RAJNA, _Le fonti dell' Orlando
Furioso_ (Sansoni, Florence, 1900), pp. 18-19. BALDELLI, _op. cit._,
p. 33, however, did not go so far as Trissino and Crescimbeni in such
an assertion, contenting himself with assuring us that Boccaccio
"colla Teseide aperse la nobile carriera de' romanzeschi poemi,
degli epici, per cui posteriormente tanto sopravanzò l' Italiana
ogni straniera letteratura. Il suo ingegno creatore correggendo, e
migliorando l' ottava de' Siciliani, che non usavan comporla con più
di due rime e una terza aggiungendone, per cui tanto leggiadramente
si chiude e tanto vaga si rende, trovò quel metro su cui cantarono e
gli Ariosti, e i Tassi vanamente sperando trovarne altro più adeguato
agli altissimi e nobilissimi loro argomenti."