6-10, Friar Onion, feather, Angel Gabriel, coals, St. Laurence

NOVEL X. 

Friar Onion promises some country people to show them a feather from the wing of the Angel Gabriel, instead of which he finds only some coals, which he tells them are the same that roasted St. Laurence. 

After they had told all their different stories, and Dioneo perceived that only himself was left to speak, without waiting for any regular command, he enjoined silence on such as were commending Guido's deep reply, and thus began: - Though I boast it, ladies, as my privilege to relate what pleases me most, yet I intend not today to depart from the subject which you have all spoken so well upon; but, following your footsteps, I shall show with what a sudden shift a certain friar, of the order of St. Anthony, most artfully avoided the disgrace and confusion which two arch young fellows had prepared for him; and if, to make my story more complete, I spin it out a little in length, I hope it will not be disagreeable, as the sun is yet in the midst of heaven. 

Certaldo, as you may all have heard, is a village in the vale of Elsa, dependent on the state of Florence, which, though small, has long been inhabited by many gentlemen and people of substance. Thither a certain friar Onion, of the order of St. Anthony, used to go once a year, as he found pretty good pickings, to receive the contributions of many simple people, and he met with great encouragement always, as much, perhaps, on account of his name, as from devout motives; for that country was famous for the best onions in all Tuscany. Now this friar was a little red-haired man, of a merry countenance, as artful a knave too as any in the world: add to this, that, though he was np scholar, yet was he so prompt and voluble of tongue, that such as knew him not, would not only have considered him a great orator, but have compared him even to Tully or Quinctilian. He was also a common gossip-acquaintance to the whole neighbourhood. Coming thither, therefore, in the month of August, according to custom, one Sunday morning, when all the honest people were met together in the church to hear mass, as soon as he saw a fit opportunity, he stepped forward and said: 

"Gentlemen and ladies, you know it has been a commendable custom with you to send every year to the poor brethren of our Lord Baron, St. Anthony, both of your corn and other provisions, some more, and some less, according to your several abilities and devotions, to the end that our blessed St. Anthony should be more careful of your oxen, sheep, asses, swine, and other cattle. Moreover, you are accustomed to pay, such of you especially as have their names registered in our fraternity, that small annual acknowledgment which I am now sent by my superior, namely, our lord-abbot, to collect. Therefore, with the blessing of God, after nones as soon as you shall hear the bells ring, you may all come to the church-door, when I shall preach a sermon as usual, and you shall all kiss the cross; and, besides this, as I know you all to be devoted to our lord, St. Anthony, I intend, as a special favour, to show you one of the feathers of the Angel Gabriel, which he dropped at the annunciation in the Virgin's chamber;" and, having made his speech, he returned to mass. Whilst he was haranguing, there were two arch fellows in the church, one named Giovanni dei Bragoniera, and the other Biagio Pizzini, who, after they had laughed together at the father's relics, although they were his friends and acquaintance, resolved to play him a trick with regard to this feather. Understanding that he was to dine that day with a friend, as soon as they thought he might be set down at table, they went to the inn where he lodged, Biagio undertaking to keep his man in talk, whilst Giovanni ransacked his wallet to steal the feather, that they might see what he would then say to the people. Now the friar had a lad, named Guccio, with so many different nicknames and qualities, that the most fertile imagination was hardly able to describe them; and Father Onion used frequently to jest and say, "My rascal has in him nine qualities, any one of which if it had belonged either to Solomon, Aristotle, or Seneca, would have baffled and confounded all their philosophy, and all their virtue. You may suppose then what sort of creature he must be, that has nine such, without either philosophy or virtue to counterbalance them." 

If asked what those nine qualities were, he would answer in doggrel: 

"In sloth and lying he was ne'er outdone; 

For theft and envy equals he hath none: 

Forgetful, disobedient and uncivil; 

Lewd as a goat, and spiteful as the devil. 

"Besides these qualities he has also many others, and one in particular I cannot help laughing at, which is, that he is for taking a wife wherever he goes: and having a great black greasy beard, he is persuaded that all women must fall in love with him; or, should they take no notice of him, he will be sure to run after them. But yet he is a notable fellow to me in one respect, that if anybody has a secret to communicate, he will come in for his share of it; and should any one ask me a question, he is so fearful that I should not know how to make an answer, that he will be sure to say. Yes, or No, before me, just as he thinks proper." 

But to return to our story. This fellow, Friar Onion left at the inn, with a particular charge to see that nobody meddled with anything belonging to him, especially his wallet, because it contained the holy relics. But Cuccio loved the kitchen as well as the nightingale loves the boughs, particularly when any of the maids were alone there, and, as soon as his master was gone, down he went, leaving the chamber door open. In the kitchen he found a fat, squat, dirty, greasy, ill-favoured wench, and falling into discourse with her, he seated himself by the fireside, though it was in August, whilst she was busy cooking, and began to tell her he was a gentleman, and worth a great lot of money; that he could say and do wonders, and (without considering that his own hat was all over grease and dirt; that his jacket was nothing but a thousand different patches; that his breeches were torn throughout, and his shoes all to pieces) he talked as big as if he had been some lord, saying that he would buy her new clothes, and take her out of service, and that she should partake of his present possessions, as well as future fortunes, with a great deal more of that kind of stuff, mere froth and wind. The two young fellows, finding him thus engaged, were very well satisfied, supposing half their work to be done; and leaving the pair together, they went up stairs into the friar's chamber, which was unlocked, when the first thing they saw was the wallet: this they opened, and found a casket wrapped up in some folds of fine taffeta, and in it a parroquet's feather, which they supposed to be the same that Friar Onion had promised to shew the people; and surely at that time it was easy enough to impose upon them in that manner. The eastern luxury had not then reached Tuscany, which has since flowed in upon us, to the ruin of our country; the ancient simplicity still prevailed; nor was there a person that had ever heard of, not to say beheld such a thing as a parrot. Not a little pleased at meeting with this feather, they took it away, and, that the box should not be empty, they put in some coals, which they saw lying in a comer of the chamber; and wrapping it up again as before, and making all snug, they walked off, waiting to see how the friar would behave when he found the coals instead of the feather. 

The people who were at church being told that they were to see the angel's feather, went home and acquainted all their neighbours, and the news ran from one to another, so that the moment dinner was over, they all crowded to the town, in such a manner that every part was full, waiting for the sight. By and by, Friar Onion, having eaten a good dinner, and taken his nap after it, understanding that there were great multitudes expecting him, sent to his servant to fetch his wallet, and ring to church. The fellow, though loath to leave his mistress and the fireside, did as he was ordered, and fell to chiming the bells. As soon, then, as the people were all assembled, the friar, not perceiving that anything had been meddled with, entered upon his discourse, running over a thousand things proper to his purpose: and being come to the showing of the feather, he began, with a solemn confession; then lighting up two torches, and gently unwrapping the silken cover, having first pulled off his cap, he took out the box, and making some short ejaculations to the praise and honour of the Angel Gabriel, and of the relic, he opened it. When he saw that it was full of coals, he could not help secretly blaming himself for leaving such a fellow in trust, who, he imagined, had been imposed on by somebody or other; but yet, without so much as changing colour, or showing the least concern, he lifted up his eyes and hands to heaven and said, "O God, blessed for ever be thy power and might!" And shutting the box, he turned again to the people, and added: "Gentlemen and ladies, you must all understand, that being very young, I was sent by my superior to those parts where the sun first appears, with an express command to inquire into the nature of porcelain, which, though it costs but little in making, affords more profit to others, than it does to us. For this purpose I embarked at Venice, and went through Greece; I proceeded thence on horseback, through the kingdom of Garbo, and through Baldacca; afterwards I came to Parione, and thence I made mv way, not without thirst, to Sardinia. But why need I mention to you all these places? I coasted on still, till I passed the straits of St. George, into Truffia, and then into Buffia, which are countries much inhabited, and with great numbers of people. 

Next I came to the land of Mendacity, where I found many of our own order, as well as of others, who avoid all labour and trouble, for Heaven's sake, taking no care for other people's sufferings, when their own interest is promoted thereby; and there they spend only uncoined money. Thence I went to the land of Abruzzi, where the men and women go upon socks over the mountains, and where it is the custom to dress swine in garments of their own guts; and, a little further on, I came among a people who carried bread in their staves, and wine in satchels. Leaving them behind me, I came to the mountains of Bacchus, where the waters all run downwards. Last of all, I arrived in India Pastinaca, where, I swear to you, by the habit I wear, that I saw serpents fly, a thing incredible to such as have never seen it: but I tell you no lie, witness Maso del Saggio, a great merchant whom I found there cracking nuts, and selling the shells by retail. Nevertheless, not being able to find what I went to look for, because the way thence to that country is by water, I returned to the Holy Land, where, in summer, a loaf of cold bread is worth four pence, and the hot is given away for nothing. There I found the venerable father, Blame-me-not-if-you-please, patriarch of Jerusalem, who, out of reverence to my habit, and love to our Lord Baron, St. Anthony, would have me see all the holy relics which he had in keeping, and which were so many, that were I to recount them, I should never come to an end: but yet, not to leave you altogether disconsolate, I shall now mention a few." First, then, he showed me a finger of the Holy Ghost, as whole and sound as ever: next a lock of hair of the Seraph that appeared to St. Francis, with the paring of a Cherub's nail, and a rib of the Verbum Caro, fastened to one of the windows; some vestments of the holy catholic Faith, and a few rays of that star which appeared to the wise men; a phial also of St. Michael's sweat, when he fought with the devil; the jaw-bone of St. Lazarus, and many others. And because I gave him two of the plains of Mount Morello, in the vulgar edition, and some chapters of the Caprezio, which he had been long searching after, he let me partake of his relics. 

And first, he gave me a tooth of the Sancta Crux, and a little bottle filled with some of the sound of those bells which hung in the temple of Solomon; a feather also of the Angel Gabriel, as I have told you, with a wooden patten, which the good St. Gherrardo da Villa Magna used to wear in his travels, and which I have lately given to Gherrardo di Bonsi, at Florence, who holds it in great veneration. He gave me also some of the coals on which our blessed martyr, St. Laurence, was broiled, all which I devoutly received, and do now possess. It is true, my superior would not suffer me to make them public, till he was assured that they were genuine; but being now convinced of it by sundry miracles, as well as by letters received from the patriarch, he has given me leave to 

show them, and which, for fear of trusting any one with them, I always carry with me. "Indeed, I have the angel's feather, for its better preservation, in a wooden box, and I have St. Laurence's coals in another: and the two are so like each other, that I have often mistaken them; and so it has happened now; for, instead of that with the feather, I have brought the box which contains the coals. This I would not have you call an error; no, I am well assured it was Heaven's particular will, now I call to mind that two days hence is the feast of St. Laurence. Therefore it was ordered that I should show you the most holy coals on which he was broiled, to kindle in your hearts that true devotion which you ought to have towards him, and not the feather: approach then, my blessed children, kneel with reverence, and uncover your heads with all due devotion, whilst you behold them. But first I must acquaint you, that whoever is marked with these coals, with the sign of the cross, may live secure for one whole year, that no fire shall have any power over him." 

So, singing a hymn to the praise of St. Laurence, he opened the box, and showed the coals, which the simple multitude beheld with the utmost zeal and astonishment, and crowded about him with larger offerings than usual, entreating to be signed with them. Then, taking the coals in his hand, he began to mark all their white mantles, fine jackets and veils, with the largest crosses that could be made upon them, affirming, that what was consumed of the coals in this manner grew again in the box, as he had frequently experienced. Thus having crossed all the people of Certaldo, to his own great benefit, by this dexterous device, he laughed in his sleeve at those who had designed to have made a jest of him. And they being present at his discourse, and hearing this sudden shift of his, and how he had made it pass with the multitude, were ready to die with laughter. After the people were all departed, they went and told him, with all the pleasure in the world, what they had done, and returned him his feather, which served him the following year to as good purpose as the coals had done that day. 

[This tale was honoured by the formal censure of the Council of Trent, and is the one which gave the greatest umbrage to the Church. In Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales" there is a similar satire on ludicrous relics. The Pardonere, who had just arrived from Rome, carried in his wallet, along with other treasures of a like description, part of the sail of St. Peter's ship, and the veil of the Virgin Mary: 

And with these relikes, whenne that he fond 

A poore persone dwelling upon lond. 

Upon a day he gat him more moneie 

Than that the person gat in monethes tweie. 

A catalogue of relics rivalling in absurdity those of Chaucer's Pardonere, or Boccaccio's Friar Onion, is presented in Sir David Lindsay's "Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis." In the thirty-eighth chapter of "Stephen's Apology for Herodotus," we are told that a priest of Genoa, returning from the Levant, boasted that he had brought from Bethlehem the breath of our Saviour, in a vial, and from Sinai the horns which Moses wore when he descended from that mountain. Luther tells us, in his "Table Talk," that the Bishop of Mentz pretended to possess the flames of the bush which Moses beheld burning.] 

This novel afforded great mirth to the whole company, and they laughed heartily at the father, his pilgrimage, and his holy relics. The queen, knowing her reign to be at an end, took the crown from her own head, and placed it with a smile upon Dioneo's, saying, "It is now time for you to prove what a task it is to govern women. Be king, therefore, and rule in such a manner, that in the end we may have reason to praise you." Dioneo, accepting the crown, replied, merrily, "I doubt not but you may have often seen a better king among the chessmen than I shall make; yet assuredly, if you would obey me, as a real king should be obeyed, I would take care you should have plenty of that, without which no entertainment is ever thoroughly agreeable. But let us say no more on that head: I will reign as well as I can." Calling then the master of the household, he ordered what should be done during his own royalty; and then he added, "Ladies, we have had so many subjects already, showing the several devices and means of human industry, that I am at a loss what to give you, unless you will accept of the following, namely, concerning such tricks and stratagems, as women either out of love, or for their own security, have put upon their husbands, whether they have been detected or not." This seemed not so decent to some of the ladies, and they desired him to change it. But he replied, "Ladies, I know as well as you do what the subject is, and all that you can allege will have no weight with me to make me alter it, considering that the season now is such, that, provided we are circumspect in our actions, any discourse for a little amusement is allowable. Know you not, that through the malignity of the times the judges have now left their tribunals, the laws both Divine and human are silent, and every one has leave to do what he thinks necessary for his own preservation? Therefore, if we take a little more liberty than ordinary in our discourse, with no bad intention, but only to pass away our time in an innocent, inoffensive manner, I see no room for reflection. Besides, from the very first day of our meeting we have always kept within the bounds of decency, and so I hope we shall continue to do. Who is there also that is unacquainted with your modesty and virtue? which, so far from being shaken by any slight discourse, would be proof even against the terrors of death. And to tell you truth, whoever should see you averse to such little diversions, might suspect that your characters were not so clear as they should be, and that you refused to join in them for that reason; not to mention the little honour you do me, in first choosing me your king, and then refusing to obey my commands. Away then with this suspicion, more befitting base and wicked dispositions than such as yours; and, without farther hesitation, let every one think of some pleasant story." 

Upon this they agreed that it should be as the king desired; and he then gave them leave to depart till supper-time. The sun was yet high, as the novels had been but short; therefore, whilst Dioneo, with the other gentlemen, were sat down to play at tables, Eliza called the other ladies apart, and said, "Ever since we have been here, have I desired to show you a place not far off, where I believe none of you ever were, and which is called the Ladies' Valley; nor have I had an opportunity before today of doing it. It is yet some hours till night, if you would choose then to go thither, I dare say you will be pleased with your walk." 

The ladies answered, that they were all willing, and, without saying a word to the gentlemen, they called one of their women to attend them, and after a walk of nearly a mile, they came to the Ladies' Valley, which they entered by a straight path, whence there issued forth a fine crystal current, and they found it so extremely beautiful and pleasant, especially at that sultry season, that nothing could exceed it; and, as some of them told me afterwards, the plain in the valley was as exact a circle as if it had been described by a pair of compasses, though it seemed rather the work of nature than of art, and was about half a mile in circumference, surrounded with six hills of moderate height, on each of which was a palace built in form of a little castle. The descents from these hills were as regular as we see in a theatre, where the circle of each stage grows gradually less and less, till it comes to the bottom. The part that looks towards the south was planted as thick as they could stand together, with vines, olives, almonds, cherries, figs, and most other kinds of fruit-trees; and on the northern side were fine plantations of oak, ash, etc., so tall and regular, that nothing could be more beautiful. The vale, which had only that one entrance, was full of firs, cypress-trees, laurels, and pines, all placed in such order, as if it had been done by the direction of some exquisite artist, and through which little or no sun could penetrate to the ground, which was covered with a thousand different flowers. But what gave no less delight than any of the rest, was a rivulet that came through a valley, which divided two of the mountains, and running through the vein of a rock, made a most agreeable murmur with its fall, appearing, as it was dashed and sprinkled into drops, like so much quicksilver. Arriving in the plain beneath, it was there received in a fine canal, and running swiftly to the middle of the plain, formed a basin not deeper than a man's breast, which showed its clear gravelly bottom, with pebbles intermixed, so that any one might see and count them: the fishes also appeared, swimming up and down in great plenty, which made it wonderfully pleasant; whilst the water that overflowed was received in another little canal, which conveyed it out of the valley. 

Hitherto the ladies all came together, and after much praising the place, and seeing the basin before them, and that it was very private, they agreed to bathe. Ordering, therefore, the maid to keep watch, and to let them know if anybody was coming, they stripped and went into it, and it covered their delicate bodies in like manner as a rose is concealed in a crystal glass. After they had diverted themselves there for some time with bathing, they clothed them- (EN: themselves; the page 321 is missing in the pdf. The song is not the same as in other editions. It is not full:)

Nor sighs, nor tears can move 

His heart to love. 

O love, etc. 

The winds, with inauspicious breeze, 

Waft my unheeded prayers away. 

Whilst hourly I decay; 

Yet neither life nor death can please. 

Then yield, in pity to my woe. 

That he thy bondage too may know. 

O love, etc. 

Cupid, I humbly ask of thee, 

Or grant me this, or set me free; 

This favour, if thou wilt bestow. 

My youthful bloom 

I shall resume. 

And on my face again the rose and lily blow. 

O love, could I escape from thee, 

I always would be free. 

(EN: I add the song from another edition:)

 

Love, from thy clutches could I but win free,

Hardly, methinks, again

Shall any other hook take hold on me.

I entered in thy wars a youngling maid,

Thinking thy strife was utmost peace and sweet,

And all my weapons on the ground I laid,

As one secure, undoubting of defeat;

But thou, false tyrant, with rapacious heat,

Didst fall on me amain

With all the grapnels of thine armoury.

Then, wound about and fettered with thy chains,

To him, who for my death in evil hour

Was born, thou gav’st me, bounden, full of pains

And bitter tears; and syne within his power

He hath me and his rule’s so harsh and dour

No sighs can move the swain

Nor all my wasting plaints to set me free.

My prayers, the wild winds bear them all away;

He hearkeneth unto none and none will hear;

Wherefore each hour my torment waxeth aye;

I cannot die, albeit life irks me drear.

Ah, Lord, have pity on my heavy cheer;

Do that I seek in vain

And give him bounden in thy chains to me.

An this thou wilt not, at the least undo

The bonds erewhen of hope that knitted were;

Alack, O Lord, thereof to thee I sue,

For, an thou do it, yet to waxen fair

Again I trust, as was my use whilere,

And being quit of pain

Myself with white flowers and with red besee.

Eliza concluded her song with a most piteous sigh, and all of them wondered what the words could mean; but the king, being in a good temper, called for Tindaro, and bade him bring out his bagpipes, to which they danced several dances; till a good part of the night being spent in that manner, they gave over, and went to bed.