9-9, King Solomon, advice, love, Goosebridge

NOVEL IX. 

Two young men go to King Solomon for his advice; the one to know how he is to behave in order to be beloved; the other how to manage an untoward wife. To the first, he replies, Love; to the second, Go to Goosebridge. 

Only the queen now remained to speak, saving his privilege to Dioneo. After they had laughed at the unfortunate Biondello, she began in this manner: - “Whoever rightly considers the order of things, may plainly see that the whole race of woman-kind is by nature, custom, and the laws, made subject to man, to be governed according to his discretion: therefore it is the duty of every one of us, that desires to have ease, comfort, and repose, with those men to whom we may belong, to be humble, patient, and obedient, as well as chaste; which is the great and principal treasure of every prudent woman. And though the laws, which regard the good of the community, may not teach this in every particular, any more than custom, the force of which is very great, and worthy to be esteemed, yet it is plainly showed by nature, who has formed us with delicate and sickly constitutions, our minds timorous and fearful, gentle and compassionate as to our tempers, of little bodily strength, our voices soft and pleasing, and the whole motion of our limbs sweetly pliant, as so many apparent proofs that we stand in need of another's guidance and protection. And whom should we have for our rulers and helpers but men? To them, therefore, let us submit ourselves with all due reverence and honour; and she that shall depart from this, I hold worthy not only of reproof, but severe chastisement. I am led to these reflections by what Pampinea has just now told us of the perverse wife of Talano, on whom Providence inflicted a heavier judgment than the husband ever could have thought of. Therefore, as I said before, such women as are not mild, gracious, and compassionate, as nature, custom, and the laws, require, are deserving of the greatest punishment; for which reason I shall give you some of Solomon's advice, as a salutary medicine, though I would not have it understood by such as stand in no need of it, as in any way designed for them. Men, indeed, have the following proverb, "A good horse, and a bad one, both require spurs: a good wife, and a bad one, both want a cudgel." These words we will admit to be true, if spoken only by way of mirth and pastime; and even in a moral sense, we will allow that women are naturally prone and unstable, and therefore a stick may be requisite to correct the evil dispositions of some, as well as to support the virtue of others, who behave with more discretion, and to be a terror to prevent them from offending. But to let preaching alone, and to proceed with my story: The fame of Solomon's most wonderful wisdom, and his affability to such as resorted to him for proofs of it, being carried throughout the whole world, people were daily flocking from all parts to beg his advice in their most urgent affairs. Amongst the rest was a young nobleman of great wealth, called Melisso, who came from the city of Laiazzo, where he was born and dwelt; and as he was riding in haste towards Jerusalem, he happened, going out of Antioch, to fall in with another young gentleman, named Gioseffo, travelling the same road. When they had journeyed for some time together, Melisso, having learned in the course of their conversation who Gioseffo was, and whence he came, inquired whither he was going, and upon what account. Gioseffo replied, "that he was going to King Solomon for advice, what method to take with a most perverse ill-conditioned woman he had married, and whom no entreaties or fair speeches had the least effect upon, to cure her of that temper." He then asked whither his companion was bound, and upon what occasion. Melisso made answer, "I am of Laiazzo, and have an affair that troubles me in like manner; I am rich, and keep a most noble table, entertaining all my fellow-citizens; and yet it is a most unaccountable thing, there is nobody that cares for or respects me: so I am going to the same place, to know what I must do to be beloved." 

Thus they rode on together till they came to Jerusalem, where they were introduced to King Solomon by one of his barons. Melisso briefly set forth his misfortune, and Solomon replied, "Learn to love." Immediately he was showed out of doors, and Gioseffo related his grievance: when Solomon made no reply but this, "Go to Goosebridge." 

Accordingly he was also dismissed, and coming to Melisso, who was waiting for him without, he told him what was the answer he had received. Thinking much upon the words, and being able to And out no sense or meaning in them, or to draw any use from them, they considered it as all a mockery, and were making the best of their way home again. After travelling some days, they came to a bridge, where they found a great caravan of mules, in process of being laden, and were obliged to stay till they had passed. The greater part was now on the other side; but there was one mule that took fright, and would by no means go over; upon which one of the drivers took a stick and began to beat her gently, in order to make her pass: but she leaped this way, and that way, and sometimes would turn back; therefore, when the driver found her so stubborn, he began to lay on as hard as ever he could strike, but all to no purpose. This our two gentlemen saw, and said to the man, "You sorry rascal! have you a mind to kill the mule?
You should lead her gently over; she will go better in that manner than by so much beating." The man replied, " Gentlemen, you know your horses and I know my mule, suffer me then to manage her as I will." And he beat her again, laying on her so thick, that at last he got the better of her, and made her pass. As they were going away, Gioseffo asked a man that was sitting at the end of the bridge, what the name of it was? "Sir," quoth the man, "this place is called Goosebridge." This made him call to mind the words of Solomon; and he said to Melisso, "Now trust me friend, Solomon's counsel may be very good and true; for I never yet beat my wife, but this man has just now shown me what I have to do." 

On coming to Antioch, he kept Melisso at his house for some days. Being received by his wife with great joy, he ordered her to dress the supper according to Melisso's direction, who, seeing that it was his friend's will, gave his instructions for that purpose. But she, according to custom, did everything quite the reverse of what Melisso had told her; which Gioseffo saw with a good deal of vexation, and said, "Were not you told in what manner to dress this supper?" She replied, with great disdain, "What is that to you? If you have a mind to eat, do; if not, you may let it alone." Melisso was surprised at her reply and began to blame her for it. But Gioseffo said, "I find, madam, you are still the same person; but I will make you change your manners." Then, turning to Melisso, he added, "Well, we shall now make trial of Solomon's advice; however, I must beg of you to consider it all as a joke, and not to offer me any hinderance; but remember what the man said when we were pitying his mule." Quoth Melisso, " I am in your house, and shall conform to your pleasure." So Gioseffo took a good oaken stick, and following her into the chamber, whither she was gone in a pet, he began to give her some severe discipline. She cried out and threatened him very much; but finding that he still persisted, she threw herself upon her knees, at last, and begged for mercy, promising that for the future she would always be obedient to his will and pleasure. He continued, nevertheless, laying on till he was weary, so that in short she had not a sound spot about her; and when he had done he came to Melisso, and said, "tomorrow we shall see the effect of the advice to go to Goosebridge. Then he washed his hands, and they sat down to supper, and afterwards, when it was time, they went to repose themselves. 

The poor lady, who had much trouble to get up from the ground, went and threw herself upon the bed, and betimes in the morning she rose and sent to her husband to know what he would have for dinner. He smiled at this with his friend, and told her. When the time came, therefore, they found everything prepared according to the directions given; upon which they highly commended the advice they had so ill understood. 

Some time afterwards Melisso parted from Gioseffo, and went home, when he acquainted a certain wise man in the neighbourhood with what Solomon had told him; who said, "No better or truer advice could possibly be given you; you know that you have a regard for no one person, and that the entertainments you make are for no love you bear those people, but only mere pomp and show. Love, then, as Solomon advises, and you shall be beloved." Thus the unruly woman was managed, and the man by loving others came himself to be beloved. 

[From all the Italian novelists we hear of the discipline of the stick being exercised by husbands, and it is always mentioned with approbation. In many of the Fabliaux, as "De la dame qui fut corrigée" (Le Grand, iii, 204), the cudgel chiefly is employed for procuring domestic felicity. It may, perhaps, appear singular, that an age of which the characteristic was veneration for the fair sex, should have given commencement to a long series of jests founded on the principle that manual discipline is necessary to correct the evil disposition of some wives, and to support the virtue of others. 

"La mauvaise femme convient il battre, et bonne aussi, à fin qu'elle ne se change," is a maxim inculcated in the romance of "Milles et Amys," which was written in the brightest days of chivalry.] 

5-7, Teodoro , Violante, hanged, execution, father

NOVEL VII. 

Teodoro is in love with Violante, his master's daughter; she proves with child, for which he is condemned to be hanged: when being led out to execution, he is recognised by his father, set at liberty, and afterwards marries her. 

The ladies were some time in suspense, through fear lest the two lovers should be burnt, and thanked Heaven at last to hear of their deliverance. Then the queen gave the next command to Lauretta, who began cheerfully as follows: 

When good King Guiglielmo ruled over Sicily, there lived in that island a gentleman named Amerigo, abbot of Trapani, who amongst other temporal goods, was well stored with children. Having occasion for servants, and meeting with some Genoese pirates from the Levant, who had been coasting along Armenia, and taken several children, supposing them to be Turks, he bought some, and, amongst the rest, in appearance chiefly peasants, one of a more generous aspect, called Teodoro. This boy, as he grew up, though he was treated as a servant, was educated with Amerigo's own children; and his natural disposition was so good and agreeable to his master, that he had him baptized, and called him Pietro, making him overseer of his affairs. 

Amongst Amerigo's children was a daughter, named Violante, a most beautiful young lady, who, having been kept from marrying longer than was agreeable to her, cast her eye at last upon Pietro, being charmed with his behaviour, though she was ashamed to make such a discovery. But love spared her this trouble; for he, by often looking cautiously at her, was so far captivated, that he was always uneasy unless he saw her: at the same time he was fearful lest any one should perceive it, as thinking it a sort of crime. This she soon took notice of; and, to give him a little more assurance, let him understand that it was not displeasing to her. Thus they went on together, neither venturing to speak to the other, though it was what they both desired. But whilst they thus mutually languished, fortune, as if purposely, found means to banish this bashfulness, which had hitherto been in the way. 

Amerigo had a country house about a mile from Trapani, whither his wife and daughter, together with other ladies, used to go sometimes, by way of pastime. One day when they were there, having taken Pietro along with them, it happened that the sky was overcast all at once with clouds, on which account the lady and her friends made all possible haste home again, before they should be caught in the storm. But Pietro and the young lady, being more nimble than the rest, had got considerably the start of them, as much perhaps through love, as fear of the weather; and when they were out of sight, there came such claps of thunder, attended with a violent storm of hail, that the mother and her company were glad to get into a labourer's house, whilst Pietro and the young lady, having no other place of refuge, went into an old uninhabited cottage, which had just cover enough remaining to keep them dry; and there they were obliged to stand pretty close together. This event encouraged him to open his heart, and he said, " Would to Heaven the storm would never cease, that I might continue here always in this manner! " - "I should like it," she replied, "well enough." These words brought on some little acts of fondness, which were followed by others, till at last they grew very familiar together, had their fill of pleasure, and made arrangements for the continuance of an intercourse so happily begun. 

The shower being over, they went on towards the city, waiting by the way for the mother, who having joined them, they came with her home. They had frequent meetings from that time, conducted always with great secrecy, till at length, she proved with child, which terribly alarmed them both. On this, Pietro, being in fear for his life, resolved to fly, and told her so. She replied, "If you do that, I will certainly murder myself." Pietro, then, who loved her most affectionately, said, "Why would you have me stay?" There must soon be a discovery; for your part, you will be easily forgiven, and I shall have to bear the punishment of both." 

- “Pietro,” she replied, "my crime must be known; but as for yours, be assured, unless you tell it yourself, it never shall." - "Then," quoth he, "if you promise me that, I will stay; but be sure you observe it." The young lady, who had concealed as long as possible her being with child, finding it could be kept a secret no longer, let her mother at last into the truth, entreating her protection with abundance of tears. The mother was very harsh with her, and insisted upon knowing how it happened: when she, to keep her word with Pietro, feigned a long story about it, to which the other easily gave credit, and, to keep it private, sent her away to one of their farm-houses. 

When the time of her labour was at hand, the mother, never suspecting anything of her husband's coming, it chanced that Amerigo, returning that way from hawking, thought, as he passed under the window, that he heard something of a noise and bustle above, and when he came in he inquired what was the matter? The lady told her husband, with a great deal of concern, what had happened to their daughter. But he, not quite so credulous as herself, said it was impossible that she should be with child, and not know by whom, and he insisted upon knowing it: by that means she might regain his favour, otherwise he would put her to death without the least mercy. The lady tried all she could to make him satisfied with her story, but to no purpose. He ran with his sword drawn to his daughter, who, whilst they had been in discourse together, had brought forth a boy, and said, "Either declare the father, or thou shalt die instantly." She, terrified to death, broke her promise to Pietro, and made a full discovery. He was so enraged at this, that he could scarcely forbear murdering her, till having vented something of his passion, he remounted his horse, and returned to Trapani, when, making his complaint to one Signor Currado, who was governor there for the king, of the injury Pietro had done him, he had him apprehended, and he confessed the whole affair. 

Pietro was condemned to be whipped, and afterwards hanged; and that the same hour might put an end to the lives of both the lovers and of their child, Amerigo, whose anger was not to be appeased by Pietro's death, sent a cup of poison, and a naked sword, by one of his servants, to his daughter, saying, "Go carry these two things to Violante, and tell her from me, that she must take her choice, whether to die by poison, or the sword; and if she refuse, I will have her burnt publicly as she deserves: when you have done this, take her child and dash his brains out, and then throw him to the dogs." 

The fellow, more disposed to such wickedness than to anything that was good, went readily enough about his errand. 

Pietro was whipped in pursuance of his sentence, and as he was led along to the gallows, he chanced to pass by an inn, where lodged three noblemen of Armenia, who were sent as ambassadors by their king to the pope, to treat of some weighty affairs with regard to an expedition which he was going to make. There they stayed to repose themselves after their journey, and had great honour shown them by the nobility of Trapani, and especially by Amerigo. Observing the people pass by who were leading Pietro, they went to the window to see what was the matter. Pietro stood stripped to the waist, with his hands tied behind him; when one of the ambassadors, named Fineo, an ancient person, and one of great authority, looking at him, saw a red spot on his breast, which children are sometimes born with, and immediately was put in mind of a son who had been stolen from him by some pirates, fifteen years before, ot whom he could never since learn any tidings. Judging by Pietro's looks that he must be about the same age as his lost boy, he began to suspect, from the mark, that he was the very person, and if so, he supposed he would remember his own name, and his father's, as also something of the Armenian language: therefore, being near him, he called out "Teodoro! "Hearing that, Pietro lifted up his head. Fineo then spoke to him in the Armenian language, saying, "Whence do you come, and whose son are you?" The officers who had charge of him, stopped, wit of respect to that worshipful person, and Pietro replied, "I am of Armenia, the son of one Fineo, and was brought hither by I know not whom." 

Fineo, now convinced that he was his son, came down with his friends, full of tears, and ran to embrace him among all the officers; then throwing a rich mantle over his shoulders, he desired the person who led him to wait till orders should come to take him back; which the other replied he should do very willingly. Fineo had learned the cause of his sentence, as fame had noised it everywhere. Taking his friends with him, therefore, and their retinue, he went to Currado, and said, “sir, the person whom you have condemned is no slave, he is a freeman, and my son: he is ready also to marry the woman: then please to defer the execution, till it be known whether she be willing to have him, that nothing be done contrary to law." Currado was greatly surprised, hearing that he was Fineo's son, and being ashamed of their mistake, confessed that what he required was reasonable, and sent for Amerigo, and acquainted him with these things. 

Nothing could exceed Amerigo's miserable anxiety, lest his daughter and her child should have been put to death before that time, knowing that if she was alive, everything might be fairly accommodated; therefore he sent in all haste to her, to prevent his orders being obeyed, if they were not already performed. The messenger found the servant who had carried the sword and poison, standing before her, and as she was in no haste to make her choice, he was abusing her, and would have forced her to have taken one. But hearing his master's command, he returned, and told him how it was: at which he was thoroughly satisfied, and went to Fineo to beg his pardon for what had been done, declaring that if Teodoro married his daughter he should be perfectly contented. Fineo accepted his apology, and assured him, that he should either marry her, or else the law should take its course. This being agreed, they went to Teodoro (who, though rejoiced to find his father, was yet under apprehensions of dying), and asked him if he consented. Teodoro, hearing that he had it at his option to marry his Violante, was as much rejoiced as if he had gone directly from hell to heaven, and replied that he mould esteem it as the greatest favour in the world. Then he sent to know the young lady's mind, and she hearing of what happened to Teodoro, began to receive a little comfort after all her affliction. Nothing in the world could be more pleasing to her, she said, than to be the wife of Teodoro; but yet she should always wait her father's commands, Everything being thus settled, the wedding was celebrated to the great joy of the whole city. In a little time the bride began to recover her looks, and having taken care of the infant, she went to pay her respects to Fineo, who, being returned from this embassy, received her as his daughter, with the utmost joy and respect. Soon after they embarked all together for Laiazzo, where the two lovers lived peaceably and happily together all their lives. 

[Indifferent in itself, this tale is chiefly curious as being the foundation of the plot of Beaumont and Fletcher's "Triumph of Love,” the second and best of their "Four Plays in One."]