10-2, Ghino di Tacco takes the Abbot of Cligni prisoner

NOVEL II. 

Ghino di Tacco takes the Abbot of Cligni prisoner, cures him of a pain in his stomach, and then sets him at liberty. The abbot returns to the court of Rome, and through his mediation Ghino is reconciled with Pope Boniface, and made prior of a hospital. 

Alfonso's magnificence having been much applauded, the king, who seemed more particularly pleased with it, laid his next commands upon Eliza, and she immediately said: - For a king to be munificent, and to give proofs of it to a person that had served him, must be allowed to be great and commendable. But what will you say to the wonderful generosity of a clergyman, towards one too that was his enemy; can anything be objected to that? Nothing surely can be said less than this; that if the one was a virtue in a king, the other in a churchman was a perfect prodigy; inasmuch as they are for the most part more sordid than even women, and avowed enemies to every kind of generosity. And although it is natural to desire revenge, they, notwithstanding their preaching up patience, and recommending the forgiveness of injuries to others, pursue it with more rancour than other people. This thing, therefore (I mean the generosity of a certain prelate), will be made appear in the following story. 

Ghino di Tacco was a man famous for his bold and insolent robberies, who being banished from Siena, and at utter enmity with the counts di Santa Fiore, caused the town of Radicofani to rebel against the Church, and lived there, whilst his gang robbed all who passed that way. Now, when Boniface the Eighth was pope, there came to court the abbot of Cligni, reputed to be one of the richest prelates in the world, and having impaired his stomach with high living, he was advised by his physicians to go to the baths of Siena, as a certain cure. Having leave from the pope, the abbot set out with a goodly train of coaches, carriages, horses, and servants, paying no respect to the rumours concerning this robber. Ghino was apprised of his coming, and took his measures accordingly; when, without the loss of a man, he inclosed the abbot and his whole retinue in a narrow defile, whence it was impossible for them to escape. This being done he sent one of his principal fellows to the abbot, with his service, requesting he would do him the favour to alight, and visit him at his castle. The abbot replied, with a great deal of passion, that he had nothing to do with Ghino, but that his resolution was to go on, and he would see who dared stop him. "My lord," quoth the man, with a great deal of humility, "you are now in a place where all excommunications are kicked out of doors, so please to oblige my master in this thing; it will be your best way." 

Whilst they were talking together, the place was soon surrounded with highwaymen, and the abbot, seeing himself a prisoner, went with a great deal of ill-will with the fellow to the castle, followed by his whole retinue, where he dismounted, and was lodged, by Ghino's appointment, in a poor, dark little room, whilst every other person was well accommodated according to his respective station, and the carriages and all the horses taken exact care of. This being done, Ghino went to the abbot, and said, "My lord, Ghino, whose guest you are, requests" the favour of you to let him know whither you are going, and upon what account?" The abbot was wise enough to lay all his haughtiness aside for the present, and satisfied him with regard to both. Ghino went away on hearing this; and having made up his mind that he would cure his lordship without a bath, he ordered a great fire to be kept constantly in his room, coming to him no more till next morning, when he brought him two slices of toasted bread, in a fine napkin, and a large glass of his own rich white wine, saying to him, "My lord, when Ghino was young he studied physic, and he declares that the very best medicine fora pain in the stomach is what he has now provided for you, of which these things are to be the beginning. Then take them, and have a good heart." The abbot, whose hunger was much greater than was his will to joke, ate the bread, though with a great deal of indignation, and drank the glass of wine, after which he began to talk a little arrogantly, asking many questions, and demanding more particularly to see this Ghino. But Ghino passed over part of what he said as vain, and the rest he answered very courteously, declaring that Ghino meant to make him a visit very soon, and then left him. The abbot saw him no more till next morning, when he brought him as much bread and wine as before, and in the same manner. And thus he continued doing many days, till he found the abbot had eaten some dried beans, which he had left purposely in the chamber, when he inquired of him, as from Ghino, how he found his stomach? The abbot replied, "I should be well enough if I were out of this man's clutches. There is nothing I want now so much as to eat, for his medicines have had such an effect upon me, that I am ready to die with hunger." 

Ghino, then, having furnished a room with the abbot's own goods, and provided an elegant entertainment, to which many people of the town were invited, as well as the abbot's own domestics, went the next morning to him, and said, "My lord, now you find yourself recovered, it is time for you to quit this infirmary." So he took him by the hand, and leading him into the chamber, left him there with his own people. Whilst Ghino was away giving orders about the feast, the abbot gave his people an account of the life he had led in that place, they on the other hand declaring that they had been used by Ghino with all possible respect. When the time came, they sat down, and were nobly entertained, but still without Ghino's making himself known. After the abbot had been treated for some days in that manner, Ghino had all the goods and furniture brought into a large room, and the horses were likewise led into a courtyard which was under it. Then he inquired how his lordship now found himself, and whether he was yet able to ride. The abbot made answer, that he was strong enough, and his stomach perfectly well, and that he only wanted to be quit of this man. Ghino then brought him into the room where all his goods were, and leading him also to the window, that he might take a view of his horses, he said, "My lord, you must understand it was no evil disposition, but his being driven a poor exile from his own house, and persecuted by many enemies, that forced Ghino di Tacco, whom you see before you, to be a robber upon the highways, and an enemy to the court of Rome. You seem, however, to be a person of honour; since, therefore, I have cured you of your weakness of stomach, I do not mean to treat you as I would do another person that should fall into my hands, that is, to take what I please; but I would have you consider my necessity, and then give me what you will yourself Here is all that belongs to you; the horses you may see out of the window: take either part or the whole, just as you are disposed, and go or stay, as is most agreeable to you." 

The abbot was surprised to hear a highwayman talk in so courteous a manner which did not a little please him; so, turning all his former passion and resentment into kindness and good-will, he ran with a heart full of friendship to embrace him: "I protest solemnly, that to procure the friendship of such a one as I take you to be» I would undergo more than what you have already made me suffer. Cursed be that evil fortune which has thrown you into this way of life! " So taking only a few of his most necessary things, and also of his horses, and leaving all the rest, he came back to Rome. 

The pope had heard of the abbot's being a prisoner, and though he was much concerned at it, yet upon seeing him, he inquired what benefit he had received from the baths? The abbot replied, with a smile, "Holy father, I found a physician much nearer, who has cured me exceedingly well," and he told him the manner of it, which made the pope laugh heartily. Then, going on with his story, and moved by a truly generous spirit, he requested of his holiness one favour. The pope, imagining he would ask something else, freely consented to grant it. Then said the abbot, "Holy father, what I have to ask is, that you would bestow a free pardon on Ghino di Tacco, my doctor, because, of all the people of worth that I ever met with, he certainly is most to be esteemed, and the damage he does is more the fault of fortune than himself. Change but his condition, and give him something to live upon, according to his rank and station, and I dare say you will have the same opinion of him that I have." The pope, being of a noble spirit, and a great encourager of merit, promised to do so, if he was such a person as the abbot reported, and, in the meantime, gave letters of safe conduct for his coming hither. Upon that assurance, Ghino came to court, when the pope was soon convinced of his worth, and reconciled to him, giving him the priory of an hospital, and creating him a knight. And there he continued as a friend and loyal servant to the holy church, and to the abbot of Cligni, as long as he lived. 

8-8, two neighbours, wife, chest

NOVEL VIII. 

Two neighbours are very intimate together, when one making very free with the other's wife, the other finds it out, and returns the compliment, whilst the friend is locked up in a chest all the time. 

The lady's sufferings seemed grievous to all who heard them; though their pity for her was the less, as they judged that she had in some measure deserved them; whilst the scholar was deemed most rigidly obstinate, and even cruel. But Pampinea having made an end, the queen ordered Fiammetta to go on, who spoke as follows; - As I suppose you have been under some concern for the scholar's severity, it may be proper, I believe, to revive your drooping spirits with some more cheerful subject. Therefore I shall tell you a story of a certain young man, who received an injury with more mildness than he, and returned it with more moderation. Whence you may learn, that a person ought to be content if he gives people as good as they bring, without desiring an unreasonable vengeance, and far beyond what the provocation which he may have received requires. 

Know, then, that at Siena lived, as I have been told, two wealthy young citizens, the one named Spinelloccio Tanena, and the other Zeppa di Mino, near neighbours to each other, and as intimate together as if they had been brothers, and each had a very handsome wife. Now it happened that Spinelloccio, going often to the other's house, whether he was at home or not, became too familiar at last with his wife, which continued some time before anybody perceived it. But Zeppa being at home one day, without her knowing it, Spinelloccio came to enquire for him, and being told by her that he was gone abroad, he began to make free with her as Usual. This Zeppa was a witness to, and greatly troubled at; yet knowing that making a clamour would no way lessen the injury, but rather add to his shame, he began to think of some revenge, which should make no noise abroad, and with which he should yet be content. 

Resolving at length what to do, he went into the room after the friend was gone away, when he found his wife setting her head-dress a little to rights, and he said, "What are you doing, madam?" " She replied, "Do you not see?" - "Yes, truly," quoth he, "and I have seen a great deal more than I could have wished. So he charged her with the thing, and she came to an open confession, as it was in vain to deny it, and began to weep and beg his pardon. He then said to her, "You see you have been guilty of a very great crime; if you expect forgiveness from me, you must resolve to do what I shall enjoin you, which is to tell Spinelloccio that about the third hour tomorrow he must find some pretence for leaving me to go to you, when I will return home; and as soon as you hear me, do you make him go into that chest, and lock him up, and after you have done this, I will tell you the rest. Have no doubt, however, about it, for I promise you I will do him no harm." She agreed to do so, and kept her word. 

The next day, the two friends being together, Spinelloccio, who had promised the lady to be with her then, said to Zeppa, "I am engaged to go and dine with a friend, whom I would not have wait for me: so fare you well." "It is a long while till dinner yet," said Zeppa. - "Yes," replied the other, "but we have business to confer about, which requires me to be there in good time. So he left him, took a little circuit, and went to the lady. No sooner were they shut in together in the chamber than Zeppa returned; when she, seeming to be very much frightened, made Spinelloccio go into the chest, as the husband had directed, locked him up, and then came out to her husband, who asked her whether dinner was ready. "It will be very soon," she replied, - "Then," said he, "as Spinelloccio has gone to dine with a friend, and has left his wife at home by herself, go and call to her out of the window, to come and dine with us." The lady whose fear for herself had rendered her very obedient, did as she was desired, and Spinelloccio's wife came, after much entreaty, hearing that her husband was not to dine at home. 

Zeppa shewed the greatest fondness towards her imaginable, and making a sign for his wife to go into the kitchen, he took her familiarly by the hand, led her into the chamber, and locked the door. Upon this she began to say, "Oh, Zeppa, w.iat means this? Is this what you invited me for? Is this the regard you have for your friend Spinelloccio?"

Zeppa having got her up to the chest where her husband was shut in, and holding her fast, replied, "Madam, before you utter any complaints, hear what I am going to tell you: I have loved your husband, and still love him, as a brother; and what has come of the trust I reposed in him? Yesterday I found out, though he knows nothing of it, that he is as intimate with my wife as he is with you. Now I respect him so much, that I intend to take no other revenge than simple retaliation. He has had my wife, and I mean to have you. If you will not consent to this, be assured I shall revenge myself in such a manner, that both he and you shall have cause to repent it." Then, in reply to the lady's remonstrances, he entered into such details as convinced her of the truth of what he alleged. - "Well, Zeppa," she said, at last, 'since your revenge is to fall upon me, I must be content. Only make my peace with your wife for what we are going to do, in like manner as I am ready to forgive her." - "Be assured I will do that," he said, "and moreover I will make you a present also of as fine a jewel as you could wish to have. So saying he fell to kissing her; and laying her down on the chest in which her husband was locked up, he took his fill of revenge, and so did she too on her own account. 

Spinelloccio, hearing what passed, was fit to burst with vexation; and had it not been that he was prevented by the fear of Zeppa's anger, he would have roared out, and abused his wife, even shut up as he was. But considering again that he had given the provocation, and that Zeppa had reason for what he had done, and had behaved humanely and like a friend, he resolved to respect him more than ever. 

When Zeppa had received full satisfaction from the lady, he got up from the chest. She asked for the jewel which he had promised, whereupon he went to the door and called his wife, who coming in with a smile said only this to her, "Madam, you have given me tit for tat." Then said Zeppa, "Here, open this chest." She did so, and he showed Spinelloccio to his wife. Now it would be difficult to sav which of the two was the more confounded: the man at seeing his friend, and knowing that he was privy to what he had done, or the woman at seeing her husband, and being conscious that he must have heard and felt what she had done over his head. "Behold," added Zeppa, "this is the jewel; I now give it you.'spinelloccio hereupon came out of the chest, and said, "Well, now we are even; and, as you said before to my wife, it is best for us to Continue friends:" Zeppa was content; so they all four sat down to dinner together in the greatest peace and harmony; and from that day forth each of the wives had two husbands, and each of the husbands two wives, without the least dispute or grudge ever arising between them on that account. 

[This story is in the "Seven Wise Masters," of Hebers, but was probably suggested to Boccaccio by the latter part of the Fabliau, "Constant du Hamel" (Le Grand, iv, 226). There, a priest, a provost, and a forester, attempt to seduce a peasant's wife. The husband has thus a triple vengeance to execute. But, in the Fabliau, this was an ungrateful return to the wife, who had not yielded to the solicitations of her lovers, but had contrived to coop them up successively in a tun which held feathers. The Fabliau, again, probably derived its origin from some oriental tale. In the story of Arruya, in the “Persian Tales," a lady solicited by a cadi, a doctor, and a governor, exposes them to each other. To Persia the story has probably come from the Brahmins, as there is a similar incident in the "Bahar Danush," which is founded on their traditions. Boccaccio's tale is introduced in La Fontaine's "Le Faiseur d'oreilles et le racommodeur de moules."

7-3, Friar Rinaldo, affair

NOVEL III. 

Friar Rinaldo has an affair with a lady in the neighbourhood, and he makes the husband believe that he is busy about a charm to cure their child of the worms. 

Filostrato having ended, Eliza was now ordered to speak, which she did as follows: - Emilia's conjuring down the spirit now brings to my mind another conjuring story, which, though it may not be equal to hers, yet, as I can think of no other, I shall relate it. 

There lived at Siena a very agreeable young man, of a good family, called Rinaldo, who had long been in love with a beautiful lady, the wife of a wealthy neighbour. He was of opinion, that if he could contrive to speak with the lady without exciting suspicion, he should obtain what he desired. Finding no other opportunity, and the lady being big with child, he resolved to stand godfather. Accordingly, he ingratiated himself with the husband, made the proposal in the handsomest terms he could devise, and was accepted. Rinaldo, having thus become Madonna Agnesa's gossip, had the desired opportunity to declare to her in words the passion she had long before read in his eyes; but his soft speeches availed him little, though the lady did not appear displeased at hearing them. Some time after, whatever was the reason, Rinaldo turned friar, and, whether that kind of life was to his liking or not, he persevered in it. For a while he seemed to have laid aside his love for the lady, and other little vanities, yet ere long he was the same person again, affecting an extraordinary elegance in his dress, making ballads and love-songs, and indulging in all sorts of mundane diversions. 

But why am I so particular about this friar? Are they not all of the same stamp? Alas! to the scandal of a dissolute world, they are not ashamed to appear plump and ruddy, with their garments fine and delicate, whilst they walk along the streets, not like dov^s, so much as high-crested cocks: and what is worse (not to mention their chambers being filled with pots of rich conserves, perfumes, and other costly compositions, with bottles of fine distilled waters and oils, with vessels also of malmsey, and the best Greek wines, so that you would take them for a perfumer's or a druggist's shop), they are not ashamed, I say, to have it known they are gouty; supposing us to be so ignorant, as to imagine that abstinence and a coarse diet do not make people less corpulent and more healthful; or that constant fasting and prayer should not cause them to be pale and out of order: and as if we had never heard that St. Dominic and St. Francis thought themselves well clothed when they had one suit of coarse russet cloth to keep out the cold, without ever thinking of so many changes of fine apparel for mere show only, and which the simple credulous multitude is obliged to pay for. 

Our friar then, falling into his former way of living, began to renew his suit more briskly than ever to this lady, who, thinking him perhaps more agreeable than before, did not much withstand it. One day, when he was very pressing, she answered him as those do who are not very loath to comply. "What! " She said, "do friars give their minds to such things?" - "Madam," he replied, "take but my habit off, and you will find I am like other men." The lady, laughing on one side of her mouth, and looking demure on the other, said, "I low can I do such a thing? You know you stood godfather to my son, and therefore it would be a terrible sin, otherwise I am sure I should be willing to oblige you." - "My dear gossip, don't be a goose," said the friar. I do not deny that it is a sort of a sin, but God pardons greater ones on repentance. Tell me pray, which of the two is more nearly related to your son, I who held him at the font, or your husband who begot him?" - "My husband, of course." - "Very well," says the friar, " and does not your husband lie with you? Then by consequence you may lie with me who am not so nearly related to your son as he." The lady, who was no great logician, was satisfied with this argument, or appeared to be so. "Who could withstand such convincing words as yours?" She said, and without making any more pother about their spiritual relationship, she let him do as he had a mind. Nor was this the only time, for the title of godfather gave them many opportunities of being together. 

One day among the rest, Rinaldo went to visit her, and finding nobody with her besides a servant maid, he sent his companion with the girl into a pigeon-loft to teach her some prayers, whilst he and the lady, with a little infant of her's, went into the chamber, and locked themselves in. They had not been there a very long time before the husband came home unexpectedly, and was knocking at the chamber door, and calling to her to open it, before they were aware of his return. Madonna Agnesa was frightened to death, and said, "What shall I do? my husband is here, and will now find out the cause of our acquaintance." The friar having his cloak and hood off, replied, "Had I but my clothes on, we could find an excuse; but if you open the door, and he finds me in this manner, we shall both be ruined." - "Then," said she, "put on your clothes instantly, and when you have done so, take our child in your arms, attend to what I shall say, to make our words agree with mine, and leave the rest to me." Now calling to her husband, who continued knocking at the door, she said, "I am coming." Accordingly she went to let him in, and putting on a cheerful countenance, she said, "Husband, it was the greatest blessing in the world that Friar Rinaldo happened to be here today, for otherwise we had certainly lost our child. "The husband was ready to faint away, and inquired how it happened? "The boy," quoth she, "had a fit, and I knew not what to do, when the friar luckily came in, and taking the child in his arms, he said, "Madam, it is owing to worms which lie at his heart, and would soon kill him; but, be not afraid, I will charm and destroy them all, so that before I leave kim he shall be as well as ever." Now as we wanted you to say some prayers, and the maid did not know where to find you, he sent his friend to the top of the house to say them in your stead; whilst we shut ourselves up in this chamber, as nobody could be present at such a mystery besides the mother. He has the child now in his arms, and only waits till his friend has made an end to conclude the whole process, for the child has come to himself already." The honest man, who, out of his great love for his child, was far from suspecting such a trick, fetched a deep sigh, and said, "I will go and see him." - "By no means," she replied, "for that will spoil the whole thing; but stay, I will see first if you may be admitted, and then call you." The friar, who heard the contrivance, was now dressed, and, having the child in his arms, and everything in readiness, he called out, "Madam, is not that your husband?" - "Yes," answered he, " I am here." - "Then come hither," quoth he, "and behold your son, whom I thought you would never more have seen alive. Take him, and in return make a statue of wax of the same bigness to the honour of St. Ambrose, through whose merits you have received this extraordinary favour." 

The child, seeing his father, showed several little signs of fondness, whilst he received him with as much joy and wonder as if he had been raised from the dead, returning great thanks to the friar for what he had done. The companion, also, hearing all that had passed, came down into the chamber, and said, "I have gone through all the prayers you ordered me to repeat." Friar Rinaldo replied, "Brother, you have done well, and you see by our joint endeavours the child is recovered." The honest man on this treated them both with wine and sweetmeats, and they took their leave with great respect. And immediately he set about making the waxen image, and sent it to be set up with several others before the image of St. Ambrose; but not St. Ambrose of Milan.