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. 

NOVEL VII. Bergamino

NOVEL VII. 

Bergamino, by telling a tale of a certain witty person named Primasso, very handsomely reproves the avarice which had lately appeared in Messer Cane della Scala. 

EMILIA's pleasant manner, and her agreeable story, made them all laugh heartily, and they highly commended the novel idea struck out by the crusaders. After which Philostrato, who was to speak next, began: - It is a commendable thing, most worthy ladies, to hit a fixed mark; but more so, to see a thing suddenly appearing, as suddenly hit by an archer. The scandalous and most wicked lives of the clergy, furnish matter enough for reproach and raillery, to such as are so disposed, without much thinking upon the matter: and, therefore, though the honest man did well in touching master inquisitor to the quick, with a shaft pointed by the hypocritical charity of the friars, who give that to the poor which they would otherwise either throw away, or give to the hogs; yet is he more to be commended, of whom the last story puts me in mind to speak. 

This was one who reproved Messer Cane della Scala, a most magnificent person hereto-fore, of a sudden and unusual kind of avarice, which had lately appeared in him, figuring by other persons in a pretty novel, as follows, that which he intended to say concerning themselves: 

Messer Cane della Scala was known all over the world, as well for the wealth with which fortune had blessed him, as for his being one of the greatest and most magnificent lords that had lived in Italy since the days of the emperor Frederick II. 

He had determined to make a most sumptuous feast at Verona, to which people began to flock from all parts, those especially of the best fashion; when, on a sudden, whatever was the cause, he altered his mind, and making such as came some little amends for their trouble, he sent them away. One person only remained unsatisfied, whose name was Bergamino, a man of incredible wit and ready tongue, who was still in hopes that things would at length turn out to his advantage. But Messer Cane della Scala (having been made to understand, that whatever was given to him was entirely thrown away) neither spoke to, nor took the least notice of him. Bergamino waited some days, and perceiving that no account was made of him, and finding his stock grew low with the expense of horses and servants at the inn, he became melancholy, yet thought it better to wait a while longer. He had brought three costly suits with him, which had been given him by other lords, for his more splendid appearance at this feast; and as the landlord began to grow importunate, he first pawned one, and staying a little longer, a second, and he had now begun to live upon the credit of the last, resolving when that was spent, to go away. In the meantime it happened that he met with Messer Cane della Scala at dinner, where he presented himself before him with a sorrowful countenance. The other observing this, said, out of mockery, rather than to take any delight in what should come from him: "What is the matter, Bergamino, thou seemest melancholy; what is it all about?” Bergamino, without any premeditation, yet as if he had thought long upon the matter, made a pat reply in the following story: 

- "You must understand, sir, that Primasso was a person well skilled in grammar, as well as a good and ready poet, by which means he became so famous, that though his person was not universally known, his fame and character were in every one's mouth. Now it came to pass, that being once at Paris, in a poor condition, as his virtue met with no fortune, being little encouraged by such as were the most able, he heard much talk of the abbot of Cligni, who, next to the pope, was reputed to be the richest prelate of the church: of him it was said, that he always kept a most grand and hospitable court, and all were entertained freely that came thither, provided it was whilst the abbot was at dinner. Primasso hearing this, and being desirous of seeing great and worthy persons, resolved to be a witness of the magnificence of this abbot. He inquired, therefore, how far he dwelt from Paris? Being answered, about six miles, he supposed that, if he set out early in the morning, he should be able to reach thither by dinner. Accordingly he asked the way, and, having nobody to keep him company, lest he should mistake the road, and so come to a place where no victuals could be had, he took three loaves with him, depending upon finding water enough (for a little served him) wherever he went. The loaves he put in his bosom, and he nicked his time so well, that he arrived at the abbot's exactly at the hour of dining; and entering into the great hall, and beholding the number of tables which were laid forth, and the vast preparations making in the kitchens, and everything else getting ready for dinner, he said to himself "This man is as truly generous as he has always been reported.” Whilst he was considering these things attentively, the steward of the household ordered water to be brought, and they washed their hands, and sat down every one at his respective table. 

Now it happened that Primasso was placed facing the door where the abbot was to make his entrance. It was the custom in that court, that neither wine, bread, nor any manner of food whatever should be served at any of the tables, till the lord abbot himself was seated. At last the steward, having all things in readiness, acquainted his lord, that nothing now was wanting but his presence. The abbot ordered the door to be thrown open, and, as he was entering the hall, the first person he chanced to cast his eye upon, was Primasso, who being a stranger, and but meanly apparelled, an ungenerous, as well as an unusual thought came into the abbot's mind. 

"Behold," said he to himself, 'to whom I give my substance to be consumed!' 

And turning back, he ordered the door to be shut again, and inquired of the people within, whether they could give any account of that mean fellow, that sat over against the door: they all answered that they could not. Primasso, who had a kind of a traveller's appetite, and had not been used to fast so long, seeing the abbot did not yet come, took one of the loaves out of his bosom, and began to devour it. The abbot, after he had waited a considerable time, sent one of his servants to see whether the fellow was gone; the servant brought word that he stayed, and was eating bread, which he seemed to have brought with him. 'Let him eat of his own," replied the abbot, 'if he has it, for he shall taste none of mine today." Gladly would the abbot have had him go away of himself, for he did not think it right to turn him out. 

Primasso had now finished one loaf, and finding the abbot did not yet come, he began with the second, which was again reported to his lordship, who had sent to inquire as before. At length, the abbot not coming, and Primasso having eaten up his second loaf, he now attacked the third. When this news was carried to the abbot, he began to consider with himself in this manner: 'What strange fancy has possessed me today? What means this avarice, this scorn that I now show? And who is it that I thus disdain? For many years have I entertained all comers, gentle or simple, poor or rich, and as it has sometimes happened, the most paltry fellows imaginable; yet never before did I grudge it to any, as I do now to this person: surely avarice should have no influence over me in the case of a poor man. For aught I know, he may be a most extraordinary person, mean as he appears, and however unwilling I have hitherto been to show him respect." Having argued thus with himself, he would needs know who the stranger was, and, finding him to be Primasso, who was come only to behold his grandeur, and knowing him to be a learned and worthy person, he became quite ashamed, and was desirous of making amends for his illiberal behaviour, by showing him all possible respect. Having feasted him, therefore, to his heart's content, he ordered him to be sumptuously apparelled, and putting money into his pocket, he made him a present of a horse, and left him at full liberty either to stay with him, or to depart at pleasure: wherewith Primasso, being highly satisfied, gave him his most hearty thanks, and returned to Paris on horseback, although he had come thence on foot." 

Messer Cane della Scala, who was a man of good understanding, without any farther explanation, easily understood what Bergamino meant to say, and, smiling upon him, replied: "Well have you set forth your necessities and virtue, as well as my avarice; and truly I never found myself so overpowered with that vice, as now in your case: but I will drive it out of me with the stick with which you have supplied me." 

So he ordered Bergamino's landlord to be paid his full charges, put on him a suit of his own best clothes, gave him money in his pocket, and a good horse to ride, and left it to his own choice whether to depart, or stay there with him.