7-5, jealous man confesses his wife

NOVEL V. 

A jealous man confesses his wife under a priest's habit, who tells him that she is visited every night by a friar; and, whilst he is watching the door, she lets her lover in at the house-top. 

Lauretta having made an end, the king, without loss of time, pointed to Fiammetta, who began in this manner: - The preceding novel brings to my mind the story of another jealous person, which I will relate, being of opinion that those husbands are justly served in that manner, who are jealous without reason. And if legislators, when they make their laws, could be supposed to think of everything, I imagine they would decree no other punishment than what is ordered in cases of self-defence: for those jealous people are frequently the death of their wives. All the week long are they kept mewed up in their houses, and when holidays come, that they should have some ease and diversion, as all other people according to the laws both of God and man have then rest, yet on those days are they more confined than at any other time; so that none are so wretchedly enslaved as themselves. Therefore I conclude that a trick put upon a husband, who was jealous without any reason, will by you be rather commended than blamed. 

There lived in Arimino a certain rich merchant, who had an agreeable woman for his wife, of whom he was immoderately jealous, and for no other reason in the world, but that as he was very fond of her himself, and knew that it was her whole study to please him; so he imagined every one else would like her as well, and that she would be as desirous to oblige them; which showed him to be one of a wicked disposition, as well as of little understanding. He consequently kept so strict an eye over her always, that no felon under sentence of death could be more narrowly watched. So far from going out to feasts at any time, or to church, or out of doors, under any pretence whatever, she was not suffered to look out of the window; so that she led a most wretched life, and so much the worse, as she knew herself to be innocent. 

Thus, finding herself so wrongfully treated, she resolved, for the time to come, to give him some reason for such usage. And as she had no opportunity of seeing people in the street, and knew that there was an agreeable young man living in the next house, she looked about to see if there was any chink in the wall, through which she might have an opportunity of speaking to him, to make him an offer of her love, and to have him come to her sometimes, if such a thing could be contrived, in order to spend her life with a little more comfort, till her husband should be cured of his jealousy. At last, in a comer of the room, she espied a crack which looked into a chamber of the next house, and she said to herself, "Now if this should prove to be Filippo's chamber (for that was the young gentleman's name), "my scheme would be half accomplished." She set her maid to work to ascertain the truth upon this point, and soon learned that the young man did sleep there all alone. She now made it her business to visit that place pretty often, and put little sticks and straws through into her neighbour's chamber, which he soon perceiving, came to the wall to see what it meant. Then she called to him softly; he knew her voice and answered; a few words sufficed to make her mind known to him, which being quite to his satisfaction, he contrived to enlarge the opening on his own side, taking care all the time that nobody should perceive it. From that time they had frequent conferences together, and could touch each other's hands, but no more, because of the husband's extraordinary care and jealousy. 

Now Christmas-day drawing near, the lady said to her husband, that, with his leave, she would go to church that day, to confess and receive the sacrament, like other good Christians. "And pray what sins can you have committed," he replied, "that you should want to confess?" - "What! " quoth she, "do you take me for a saint? Though you keep me shut up in this manner, yet I must sin as well as other people; but I am not going to tell them to you, as you are no priest." These words occasioned such a strong suspicion in him, that he was resolved to know what those sins were; and having determined what means to use, he told her that he was willing; but that she should go only to their chapel, and that betimes in the morning, and confess to their chaplain, or some person that he should appoint, and to no other, and return home directly. The lady seemed partly to know his design, and without making any other reply, said she would do as he desired. On Christmas-day, then, she rose betimes in the morning, and went to the chapel, as her husband had directed her. He also went to the same place, got there first, and having agreed with the priest what to do, he put on a gown, with a great hood that almost covered his face, such as we see priests wear sometimes, and drawing it over his eyes, sat himself down in the choir. The lady, upon coming into the chapel, inquired for the priest; who, hearing from her that she wanted to confess, told her, that he could not stay to hear her himself, but would send one of his brethren. Accordingly he sent the jealous husband, in an ill hour for him, as it happened, who had not so well disguised himself, but she immediately knew him, and said to herself, "Thank Heaven, from a jealous fool he has become a priest: but I will take care to give him what he seeks for." 

Affecting then not to know hrm, she sat down at his feet. The jealous gentleman had put some little stones into his mouth, to alter his voice, thinking himself well enough disguised as to everything else. Coming then to the confession, amongst other things, she told him, that, though married, she was yet in love with a priest, who came and lay with her every night. When the confessor heard this, he felt as if a knife was stuck into his heart, and were it not for his desire to learn something farther, he would have gone away that moment, and left her on her knees. Keeping his seat, then, he said to her, "Well, but how is it? Does not your husband lie with you." - "Yes, he does, sir," she replied. "Then," continued he, "how can the priest lie with you at the same time?" - "I know not how he does it, but there is not a door in the house but opens upon his touching it; he tells me also, that, upon coming to our chamber, before he opens the door, he says some certain words, which throw my husband asleep, and then he comes in, and lies with me, and the other never knows it." - "O, madam," quoth the confessor, "that is a very bad thing; you must leave off such practices entirely." - "Ah, father," answered she, "I know not how to do it, I love him so well." - "Then I can give you no absolution." - "I am sorry for that," she replied; "but I came here to speak the truth: if I could leave off, I would tell you so." - "I am sorry for you, as I see your soul is in a state of damnation; but I will offer up my particular prayers for you, which may be of service, and I will send a person to you at certain times, when you may inform him if you think you have received any benefit, and in that case we will proceed farther." 

The lady replied, “sir, never think of sending anybody to our house, for my husband is so unreasonably jealous, that all the world could never beat it out of his head but that he came with a bad intent, and I should not have one good day for this twelvemonth." 

- "Madam," he rejoined, "have no care for that, for I shall manage in such a manner, that you will hear no more from him upon that score." - "If you can do that," said the lady, "I am content." And having made an end of her confession, and had her penance assigned her, she got up and went to mass. 

The husband, ready to burst with fury, put off the priest's habit, and went home, waiting to find the priest and his wife together, in order to wreak his vengeance upon both; whilst she went out of the church, seeing plainly by his looks that she had given him but a bad Christmas-box, though he endeavoured to conceal both what he had done and meant farther to do. Resolving then to wait the next night at the door for the priest, he said, "I shall go out to sup and stay all night; be sure, therefore, you lock the street door, and that upon the stairs, as also your chamber door, and when you are disposed you may go to bed." She wished him a good night, went immediately to the chink in the chamber, and made the usual sign, when Filippo came to her, and she told him what she had done that morning, and what her husband had said afterwards, adding, "I am confident he will never stir from the door all night long; do you contrive a way, then, to come in at the top of the house. " He replied, full of joy, "Depend upon it. Madam, I will." When night came, therefore, the jealous husband armed himself privately, and lay concealed in the ground-room, whilst his wife made the doors fast, especially that upon the stairs, so that he could not come up to her: and the young man, when he thought it proper time, came by a secret way into her chamber, where they enjoyed themselves all night, without fear of interruption. The husband, in the meantime, continued supperless all night long, uneasy to the last degree, and almost starved to death with cold, waiting by the door for the priest. Day appearing at last, and nobody coming, he composed himself there to sleep. Rising at the third hour, and the door of the house being now opened, he came in, pretending to come from another place, and called for his breakfast. Soon afterwards he sent a messenger to his wife, as from the priest who had confessed her, to know if that person had come to her since. She, who understood full well the nature of the message, replied, "No, he did not come that night, and if he left off visiting her, she might forget him, although she had no desire to do so." 

What more need I say to you? The husband continued to watch every night, and the wife and her gallant were together all the time. At last, being out of all manner of patience, he demanded of her, with the utmost wrath in his looks, what it was that she had confessed to the priest? But she refused to tell him, saying that it was neither just nor reasonable. "Vile woman?"he cried, "I know in spite of you, what it was, and will make you confess who this priest is, that lies with you every night, by virtue of his enchantments, or else I will cut your throat." She replied, "It is false; I never lay with any priest." - "What!” said he, " did you not say so and so to the priest who confessed you?"

- "Not," she replied, "for him to tell you again; but if you were present, it is a different thing: then, to be plain with you, I did say so." - "Now tell me," quoth he, "who this priest is, and quickly." 

She smiled and said, "I am always glad to see a wise man led (by the horns as it were) by a simple woman; though you deserve not that character, since you have suffered yourself to be transported by an unreasonable fit of jealousy, without knowing why; therefore, the more weak you are, the less is my glory. Do you think my eyes are as bad as your understanding? No; I knew very well who the priest was that confessed me, and that was you. But I was resolved to give you what you wanted, and I think I have done so. But if you were as wise as you would be thought, you would never have desired to come at your wife's secrets in that manner, and would have known, without any vain suspicion, that every word was true which I said, and without the least crime or offence. I told you I loved a priest: were not you, my unworthy husband, then a priest? I said, no door could be kept shut when he had a mind to come to me: and is not that literally true? I added that the priest lay with me every night. And pray when did you lie from me? And when you sent to know if he was with me that night - you know that very time you had not been with me- I answered that he had not been with me. Who but a person blinded with jealousy, like yourself, but must have understood these things? And yet you kept watch all night at the door, and would have made me believe that you were gone elsewhere to sup and spend the night Consider a little better, and behave like a man, and do not make a fool of yourself any longer, in the eyes of one who is acquainted with all your ways, as I am. Leave off this extraordinary care upon my account; for, I assure you, were I disposed to be what you suspect, had you a hundred eyes, whereas you have only two, I could do it over and over again, and you be never the wiser." 

The poor jealous creature, who had thought himself very cunning before, now saw how he was despised, and, without more words, devested himself of that foolish and troublesome disposition, ever after esteeming his a wife virtuous and prudent woman. And she had no further occasion to make her lover come in at the top of the house, as cats do; for the door was open afterwards whenever they had a mind to be together. 

[This story is an ingenious improvement upon the Fabliau "Du Chevalier qui confessa sa Femme." It has been frequently imitated. In the 78th of the "Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles," entitled "Le Mari Confesseur,” a lady who is confessed by her husband under the disguise of a priest acknowledges a criminal intercourse with a squire, a knight, and a priest. On hearing this, the husband bursts out into an indignant exclamation. "Were you not," says she, with some presence of mind, "a squire when I married you, were you not afterwards a knight, and are you not now a priest?"

This is copied by Lafontaine, in "Le Mari Confesseur." ] 

3-6 Ricciardo Minutolo, Philippello Fighinolfi

NOVEL VI. 

Ricciardo Minutolo is in love with the wife of Philippello Fighinolfi; and knowing her to be jealous of her husband, makes her believe that the latter was to meet his wife that night at a bagnio. Accordingly she goes thither, and, imagining she was with her husband all the time, finds herself at last with Ricciardo. 

Eliza had now concluded her story, and the queen, having commended the beau's ingenuity, laid the next charge upon Fiammetta, who began, with a smile, as follows: 

- It may be convenient to quit our own city at present, which, as it abounds in everything, is no less fruitful in examples relating to most subjects, and to recount, as Eliza has done, what has come to pass in other countries. Therefore, passing over to Naples, I shall set forth how one of those sanctified ladies, who seemed averse to all love intrigues, was, by the dexterous management of her lover, brought to taste the fruits of love, before she had known the flower of it; which will both divert you as to what is already past, and caution you, in certain points, for the time to come. 

There lived at Naples, one of the most ancient and pleasant cities in all Italy, a young gentleman of great wealth, as well as nobly descended, called Ricciardo Minutolo; who, notwithstanding he had a beautiful lady for his wife, was enamoured of another, who was thought to surpass all the women in Naples. This lady was called Catella, and was the wife of a young gentleman named Philippello Fighinolfi, whom she loved and valued above all things. Now Ricciardo being in love with her, and doing everything which he thought might gain her affections, but to no manner of purpose, fell into despair; and as he was unable to get the ascendency over his passion, he had no pleasure in living, and yet no wish to die. Continuing in this disposition, he was one day advised, by the ladies of his acquaintance, to give over his vain pursuit, seeing that Catella regarded nothing so much as her own husband, of whom she was so jealous, that she was fearful of every bird that flew over his head, lest it might snatch him from her. Ricciardo hearing of this jealous disposition, began now to conceive hopes of success; but pretending to lay all such views aside, he gave it out that he had taken a fancy to another lady, towards whom he practised the same gallantries as he had before offered to Catella; and in a little time it was universally believed, that Catella was no longer the object of his passion, but this second lady; insomuch, that the former began now to put off that reserve which had hitherto appeared in her behaviour, and to treat him with the same openness and affability as her other neighbours. 

Now it happened, the season of the year being sultry, that some companies of gentlemen and ladies went to divert themselves on the sea-shore, where they were to dine and sup; and Ricciardo knowing that Catella was gone thither with a party of people, went likewise with a set of his friends, and, after much importunity, as if he had no mind to remain there, he was persuaded to join the company of Catella and her friends. Presently all the ladies, Catella among the rest, began to banter him concerning this new love of his, at which he affected to be so much nettled that they talked all the more upon that subject. At length the members of the party being dispersed up and down, as is usual on such occasions, and Catella remaining only with a few friends where Ricciardo was, he dropped a hint of some intrigue of her husband's, which gave her a violent fit of jealousy, and she burned with impatience to know the truth. In a little time, therefore, she began to entreat Ricciardo, that, for the sake of the lady whom he loved most, he would make that matter clear to her, relating to Philippello. 

"You have conjured me," Ricciardo replied, by a person, on whose account I can refuse nothing that is asked me, only you must promise never to speak a word to him, or any other person about it, till you find it really so, which I will shew you how you may be satisfied of, as soon as you please." She was now more strongly possessed of the truth of the matter, and promised to be silent. Taking her then apart, that they might not be overheard, he thus addressed her: "Madam, if I now loved you in the manner I formerly did, I could not endure to tell you what must give you so much uneasiness; but as that is at an end, I shall be less fearful of making a full discovery. I do not know whether your husband was provoked at my loving you; or whether he had any suspicion of my being loved by you: but be this as it may, he has taken an opportunity, when I had the least cause to be jealous, of attempting to do by me, what he might suspect I meant to do by him; namely, to seduce my wife; for which purpose he has tried frequent messages, with which she has constantly made me acquainted, and returned such answers to them as I directed her. This very morning I found a woman in close conference with her, and imagining who she was, I asked my wife what the woman wanted? She told me that she came from Philipello; "who, from such answers,” continued she; "as you have made me send, from time to time, begins to have hopes of prevailing; and he now says, that he wants me to come to a resolution, and that he can so order it, that we may meet privately at a bagnio. He begs and entreats me most earnestly to be there; and were it not that you have made me hold him in suspense with such frivolous answers, I should have dealt with him in such a manner, that he should never have troubled me more.”

I bore all the rest patiently, but now he has proceeded too far, and accordingly I resolved to tell you, that you might see how he has rewarded your most faithful love, for which I was just at death's door; but, lest you should think all this groundless, and that yourself may be an eye witness of it, I ordered my wife to tell the woman that she would meet him there tomorrow at nones, when everybody would be asleep; with which answer the messenger went away well pleased. Now I would not have you suppose that I intend to send her thither, but, were I in your place, I would go instead of her, and after you have been some time together, I would then make a discovery of myself to him; by which means you would shame him from being ever guilty of the like practices hereafter, and at the same time prevent the injury which is designed both to yourself and me." 

Catella, without considering who it was that told her this, or what his designs might be, gave credit to it, as jealous people usually do to such stories; and calling to mind other circumstances to confirm it, she said, with a great deal of passion, that she would certainly do so, and that she would so confound him, that he should never more dare to look a woman in the face. 

Ricciardo was highly pleased; and now thinking that his scheme was likely to take effect, he confirmed her in that resolution, desiring her, nevertheless, not to mention what she had heard, which she accordingly promised. The next morning, then, he went to the woman who kept the bagnio, which he had mentioned to Catella, and begged her assistance in the affair, which she easily agreed to; and they contrived how it might be best effected. There was a dark room in the house, where she made up a bed, as he had directed her, and as soon as he had dined, he went thither to wait for Catella; whilst she, giving more credit to his words than she ought, returned home full of spleen. Philippello came home likewise, and, as it happened, in a very thoughtful mood, so that perhaps he did not show that fondness towards her that he usually did. This made her suspect him all the more; and she said to herself, "Truly he is taken up with thinking of the lady whom he is to meet tomorrow, but I will prevent it:" and she was considering all night long what she should say to him at their meeting. In a word, at the hour of nones she took a friend with her, and went directly to the bagnio and seeing the good woman, she inquired if Philippello was there. The woman having learned her lesson from Ricciardo, said, "Are you the lady that is to speak to him here?" Catella answered, "I am.” - "Then," said she, "go in there." Catella, who went to seek what she would not willingly have found, entered the room where Ricciardo lay, her face being covered by a veil, and locked the door behind her. Ricciardo, taking her in his arms with transport, whispered, "Welcome, my soul;" whilst she, the better to sustain her assumed character, embraced and kissed him with great demonstrations of good will, but never said a word for fear he should recognise her. The room having no window was extremely dark, which suited both parties very well, nor could they see at all even after they had been there some time. Ricciardo led her to the bed without betraying himself by his speech, and there they remained together for a long time, with more delight to the one than to the other. 

At length, when Catella thought it fit time to shew her resentment, she broke out in the following manner: "Miserable lot of women! How ill placed is the love we bear to our husbands! For these eight years have I loved you more than my whole life; whilst you, most wicked man, give yourself up entirely to another woman. Whom do you think you are now with? You are with her, whom you have so often deceived with your false flatteries, pretending affection, when you had placed it elsewhere. Perfidious villain! I am Catella, and not Ricciardo's wife. Do you know my voice or not? I am, I tell you; and I think it long till I bring you into the light, to confound you with shame as you deserve. 

Alas! whom have I loved in this manner for so many years! Whom but this wretch, who, supposing himself in bed with another woman, has shewn more fondness than he ever did to me since we were married. Brisk enough you have proved yourself today, you renegade dog, that are so feeble and good for nothing at home. But, thank Heaven, it is in your own vineyard you have been labouring, not in another's, as you fancied. No wonder you did not come near me last night; you wanted to husband your strength that you might display all your prowess in another field. But once more, thank Heaven and my own foresight, the water has run in its regular channel, as it ought. Why do not you answer, you villain? Are you struck dumb with what I have said? I have a good mind to pull your eyes out of your head. You thought it had been all a secret; but you were mistaken." Ricciardo was greatly amused to hear her talk thus, and returned no answer but by his caresses; whilst she, resuming her complaints, exclaimed, "If you think to wheedle me in this manner you are mistaken; I will never rest till I have exposed you to all our neighbours and friends. Am I not as handsome as the wife of Ricciardo? Am I not as good a gentlewoman as she? Hands off; touch me not; you have performed exploits enough for one day. And now that you know who I am, whatever you might do would be all forced; but if I live you shall often be fain to ask, and get No! for your answer. I see no reason why I should not send to Ricciardo, who once loved me passionately, and yet could never boast that I vouchsafed to give him one kind look; and who knows what mischief may then ensue? You thought you had been with his wife all this time, and you are equally guilty as if you really had: therefore, were I to prove criminal with him, you could not blame me." 

Her complaints were long and outrageous; till at length he began to think that if she was suffered to depart in this mood, mischief would certainly ensue; therefore he resolved to undeceive her: and holding her so fast in his arms, that she could not get away, he said to her, "My life, do not make yourself uneasy; that which I could not have by dint of love, I have obtained by stratagem; I am your Ricciardo." She hearing this, and knowing his voice, would have leaped out of bed, but could not; and as she was going to cry out, he laid his hand upon her mouth, and said, "Madam, what has been now done cannot be undone were you to cry all your life long; and if it be made public by any means, two things must happen. The first, which is of great concern to you, is, that your honour and good name will be called in question; for though you should allege your being deceived, I will contradict it, and say that you came hither for reward, and because I would not give you as much as you expected, for that reason you made all this disturbance; and you know people are always more ready to believe what is bad, than what is good, of another, on which account my story would find the most credit. In the second place, a mortal enmity must ensue betwixt me and your husband; and things may be carried so far, that he may kill me, or I him, which would give yon great uneasiness: therefore, my dearest life, do not lessen yourself and make mischief between us. You are not the first, nor will be the last, that has been imposed upon. It is not to deprive you of your honour, but it is the abundant regard I have for you that has put me upon using this device: and from this time forth myself, and all I am worth, shall be at your service. As you are discreet then in other things, I hope you will be so in this." 

She expressed the utmost grief whilst he was speaking these words; but having listened so far to what he said, as to be convinced that it was reasonable, she replied, "I do not know how God will enable me to bear both the injury and the trick you have put upon me; I will make no noise here, where I have been brought by my own foolishness and over great jealousy; but this you may depend upon, that I shall never be at rest till I see myself revenged one way or other: therefore let me go; you have gained your point, and have done what you pleased; it is time to leave me, leave me then I beseech you." Ricciardo, who saw the anguish of her heart, resolved not to part with her before he made peace; using, therefore, all the kind and tender expressions he could think of to mollify her, he begged and prayed so earnestly that at last he made his peace, and they remained together a long while, with equal good will on both sides, and with great mutual delight. In fine, the lady having experienced how much more racy were the lover's kisses than the husband's, her former cruelty to Ricciardo was changed into the warmest passion. She loved him ever after, and many a time were they happy in each other's arms. Heaven send us all the like good fortune. 

[I do not think, says Dunlop ("History of Fiction"), that this story occurs either in the selections of Tableux published by Barbazan, or Le Grand, but I have little doubt that it exists among those which have not been brought to light. The incident has been a favourite one with subsequent novelists. For example, it corresponds with one of the tales of Sacchetti, and with the fourth of the Fourth Decade of Cinthio. It has also been versified by La Fontaine, in his 'Richard Minutolo."