I
A great many years ago, when the city of Florence had only just been
made a republic, a man lived there named Raniero di Raniero. He was the
son of an armorer, and had learned his father’s trade, but he did not
care much to pursue it.
This Raniero was the strongest of men. It was said of him that he bore a
heavy iron armor as lightly as others wear a silk shirt. He was still a
young man, but already he had given many proofs of his strength. Once he
was in a house where grain was stored in the loft. Too much grain had
been heaped there; and while Raniero was in the house one of the loft
beams broke down, and the whole roof was about to fall in. He raised his
arms and held the roof up until the people managed to fetch beams and
poles to prop it.
It was also said of Raniero that he was the bravest man that had ever
lived in Florence, and that he could never get enough of fighting. As
soon as he heard any noise in the street, he rushed out from the
workshop, in hopes that a fight had arisen in which he might
participate. If he could only distinguish himself, he fought just as
readily with humble peasants as with armored horsemen. He rushed into a
fight like a lunatic, without counting his opponents.
Florence was not very powerful in his time. The people were mostly wool
spinners and cloth weavers, and these asked nothing better than to be
allowed to perform their tasks in peace. Sturdy men were plentiful, but
they were not quarrelsome, and they were proud of the fact that in their
city better order prevailed than elsewhere. Raniero often grumbled
because he was not born in a country where there was a king who gathered
around him valiant men, and declared that in such an event he would have
attained great honor and renown.
Raniero was loud-mouthed and boastful; cruel to animals, harsh toward
his wife, and not good for any one to live with. He would have been
handsome if he had not had several deep scars across his face which
disfigured him. He was quick to jump at conclusions, and quick to act,
though his way was often violent.
Raniero was married to Francesca, who was the daughter of Jacopo degli
Uberti, a wise and influential man. Jacopo had not been very anxious to
give his daughter to such a bully as Raniero, but had opposed the
marriage until the very last. Francesca forced him to relent, by
declaring that she would never marry any one else. When Jacopo finally
gave his consent, he said to Raniero: “I have observed that men like you
can more easily win a woman’s love than keep it; therefore I shall exact
this promise from you: If my daughter finds life with you so hard that
she wishes to come back to me, you will not prevent her.” Francesca said
it was needless to exact such a promise, since she was so fond of
Raniero that nothing could separate her from him. But Raniero gave his
promise promptly. “Of one thing you can be assured, Jacopo,” said he—“I
will not try to hold any woman who wishes to flee from me.”
Then Francesca went to live with Raniero, and all was well between them
for a time. When they had been married a few weeks, Raniero took it into
his head that he would practice marksmanship. For several days he aimed
at a painting which hung upon a wall. He soon became skilled, and hit
the mark every time. At last he thought he would like to try and shoot
at a more difficult mark. He looked around for something suitable, but
discovered nothing except a quail that sat in a cage above the courtyard
gate. The bird belonged to Francesca, and she was very fond of it; but,
despite this, Raniero sent a page to open the cage, and shot the quail
as it swung itself into the air.
This seemed to him a very good shot, and he boasted of it to any one who
would listen to him.
When Francesca learned that Raniero had shot her bird, she grew pale and
looked hard at him. She marveled that he had wished to do a thing which
must bring grief to her; but she forgave him promptly and loved him as
before.
Then all went well again for a time.
Raniero’s father-in-law, Jacopo, was a flax weaver. He had a large
establishment, where much work was done. Raniero thought he had
discovered that hemp was mixed with the flax in Jacopo’s workshop, and
he did not keep silent about it, but talked of it here and there in the
city. At last Jacopo also heard this chatter, and tried at once to put a
stop to it. He let several other flax weavers examine his yarn and
cloth, and they found all of it to be of the very finest flax. Only in
one pack, which was designed to be sold outside of Florence, was there
any mixture. Then Jacopo said that the deception had been practised
without his knowledge or consent, by some one among his journeymen. He
apprehended at once that he would find it difficult to convince people
of this. He had always been famed for honesty, and he felt very keenly
that his honor had been smirched.
Raniero, on the other hand, plumed himself upon having succeeded in
exposing a fraud, and he bragged about it even in Francesca’s hearing.
She felt deeply grieved; at the same time she was as astonished as when
he shot the bird. As she thought of this, she seemed suddenly to see her
love before her; and it was like a great piece of shimmery gold cloth.
She could see how big it was, and how it shimmered. But from one corner
a piece had been cut away, so that it was not as big and as beautiful as
it had been in the beginning.
Still, it was as yet damaged so very little that she thought: “It will
probably last as long as I live. It is so great that it can never come
to an end.”
Again, there was a period during which she and Raniero were just as
happy as they had been at first.
Francesca had a brother named Taddeo. He had been in Venice on a
business trip, and, while there, had purchased garments of silk and
velvet. When he came home he paraded around in them. Now, in Florence it
was not the custom to go about expensively clad, so there were many who
made fun of him.
One night Taddeo and Raniero were out in the wine shops. Taddeo was
dressed in a green cloak with sable linings, and a violet jacket.
Raniero tempted him to drink so much wine that he fell asleep, and then
he took his cloak off him and hung it upon a scarecrow that was set up
in a cabbage patch.
When Francesca heard of this she was vexed again with Raniero. That
moment she saw before her the big piece of gold cloth—which was her
love—and she seemed to see how it diminished, as Raniero cut away piece
after piece.
After this, things were patched up between them for a time, but
Francesca was no longer so happy as in former days, because she always
feared that Raniero would commit some misdemeanor that would hurt her
love.
This was not long in coming, either, for Raniero could never be
tranquil. He wished that people should always speak of him and praise
his courage and daring.
At that time the cathedral in Florence was much smaller than the present
one, and there hung at the top of one of its towers a big, heavy shield,
which had been placed there by one of Francesca’s ancestors. It was the
heaviest shield any man in Florence had been able to lift, and all the
Uberti family were proud because it was one of their own who had climbed
up in the tower and hung it there.
But Raniero climbed up to the shield one day, hung it on his back, and
came down with it.
When Francesca heard of this for the first time she spoke to Raniero of
what troubled her, and begged him not to humiliate her family in this
way. Raniero, who had expected that she would commend him for his feat,
became very angry. He retorted that he had long observed that she did
not rejoice in his success, but thought only of her own kin. “It’s
something else I am thinking of,” said Francesca, “and that is my love.
I know not what will become of it if you keep on in this way.”
After this they frequently exchanged harsh words, for Raniero happened
nearly always to do the very thing that was most distasteful to
Francesca.
There was a workman in Raniero’s shop who was little and lame. This man
had loved Francesca before she was married, and continued to love her
even after her marriage. Raniero, who knew this, undertook to joke with
him before all who sat at a table. It went so far that finally the man
could no longer bear to be held up to ridicule in Francesca’s hearing,
so he rushed upon Raniero and wanted to fight with him. But Raniero only
smiled derisively and kicked him aside. Then the poor fellow thought he
did not care to live any longer, and went off and hanged himself.
When this happened, Francesca and Raniero had been married about a year.
Francesca thought continually that she saw her love before her as a
shimmery piece of cloth, but on all sides large pieces were cut away, so
that it was scarcely half as big as it had been in the beginning.
She became very much alarmed when she saw this, and thought: “If I stay
with Raniero another year, he will destroy my love. I shall become just
as poor as I have hitherto been rich.”
Then she concluded to leave Raniero’s house and go to live with her
father, that the day might not come when she should hate Raniero as much
as she now loved him.
Jacopo degli Uberti was sitting at the loom with all his workmen busy
around him when he saw her coming. He said that now the thing had come
to pass which he had long expected, and bade her be welcome. Instantly
he ordered all the people to leave off their work and arm themselves and
close the house.
Then Jacopo went over to Raniero. He met him in the workshop. “My
daughter has this day returned to me and begged that she may live again
under my roof,” he said to his son-in-law. “And now I expect that you
will not compel her to return to you, after the promise you have given
me.”
Raniero did not seem to take this very seriously, but answered calmly:
“Even if I had not given you my word, I would not demand the return of a
woman who does not wish to be mine.”
He knew how much Francesca loved him, and said to himself: “She will be
back with me before evening.”
Yet she did not appear either that day or the next.
The third day Raniero went out and pursued a couple of robbers who had
long disturbed the Florentine merchants. He succeeded in catching them,
and took them captives to Florence.
He remained quiet a couple of days, until he was positive that this feat
was known throughout the city. But it did not turn out as he had
expected—that it would bring Francesca back to him.
Raniero had the greatest desire to appeal to the courts, to force her
return to him, but he felt himself unable to do this because of his
promise. It seemed impossible for him to live in the same city with a
wife who had abandoned him, so he moved away from Florence.
He first became a soldier, and very soon he made himself commander of a
volunteer company. He was always in a fight, and served many masters.
He won much renown as a warrior, as he had always said he would. He was
made a knight by the Emperor, and was accounted a great man.
Before he left Florence, he had made a vow at a sacred image of the
Madonna in the Cathedral to present to the Blessed Virgin the best and
rarest that he won in every battle. Before this image one always saw
costly gifts, which were presented by Raniero.
Raniero was aware that all his deeds were known in his native city. He
marveled much that Francesca degli Uberti did not come back to him, when
she knew all about his success.
At that time sermons were preached to start the Crusades for the
recovery of the Holy Sepulchre from the Saracens, and Raniero took the
cross and departed for the Orient. He not only hoped to win castles and
lands to rule over, but also to succeed in performing such brilliant
feats that his wife would again be fond of him, and return to him.