9-8, Biondello, Ciacco, dinner, lampreys

NOVEL VIII.

Biondello imposes upon one Ciacco with regard to a dinner; who revenges himself afterwards, and causes the ouier to be soundly beaten. 

It was generally agreed, that what Talano had seen in his sleep was no dream, but rather a vision; every part of it having so exactly come to pass. When all were silent, the queen commanded Lauretta to follow, who thereupon said, - As everybody that has spoken hitherto, has given something which has been treated of before, so the severe revenge taken by the scholar, as related by Pampinea, reminds me of another revenge, grievous enough to the person concerned, although less cruel than that was. 

In Florence there was a man, the greatest epicure perhaps that ever was born, and for that reason he was nicknamed Ciacco, i. e, glutton; who, unable to support the expense which such a craving disposition required, and being in other respects a very agreeable and merry companion, used frequently to go amongst the rich people, such particularly as loved to live well, and dine and sup with them, though perhaps he was not always invited. There was also a little dapper spark called Biondello, a perfect butterfly; so exact and finical always as to his person, that there never was a hair amiss; and he followed the same way of life. Being, therefore, in the fish-market one morning in Lent, and buying a couple of very large lampreys for Signor Vieri de' Ciecchi, he was taken notice of by the other, who immediately asked whom they were for? Biondello replied, "Yesterday Signor Corso Donati had three larger than these sent him along with a sturgeon; but, not thinking them sufficient for all his company, he has ordered me to buy two more: will you not go?" - "You know very well that I shall," said Ciacco. As soon as he thought it was the time, away went Ciacco to Signor Corso's house, and found him talking at the door with some of his neighbours, dinner not being quite ready. Signor Corso asked him whither he was going. "Sir," he replied, "I came to dine with you and your friends." - "You are welcome," said the hospitable gentleman; "it is about the time, then let us go in. So they sat down to some peas, and a few small fried fish, without anything more. Ciacco now saw the trick, and resolved to return it. A few days afterwards he met with Biondello, who had made many people merry with the thing, and who accosted him, asking how he liked Signor Corso's lampreys? Ciacco replied, "Before eight days are over, you will know much better than I." So the moment he parted from him, he met with a porter, whom he took near to the hall of the Cavicciuli, where shewing him a certain knight named Filippo Argenti, the most boisterous ill-tempered man that could be, he said, "Go, take this bottle in your hand, and say thus to yonder gentleman, “Sir, Biondello gives his service, and desires you will rubify this flask with some of your best red wine, to treat his friends withal;" but take care he do not lay his hands upon you, for you would have a bad time of it if he should, and my scheme would be quite defeated." - "Must I say anything else?"quoth the porter. "No, only say as I bid you, and when you come here again I will pay you." Accordingly the man delivered his message. Filippo, who was easily heated, imagining that this was done on purpose to enrage him, jumped up in a great passion, and said. Stay a little, honest friend, and I will give thee what thou comest for;" and was going to lay hold on him; but the man was aware of it, took to his heels, and returned to Ciacco, who saw the whole proceeding, and paid him with a great deal of pleasure. His next business was to find out Biondello; when he said, "Have you been lately at the Cavicciuli?" - "No," he replied, "but why do you ask the question?" - "Because Filippo has been every where to seek for you; I do not know what it is for." - "Then," said Biondello, "I will go and speak to him. So he went, whilst the other followed at a distance, to see how he would be received. Now Filippo had not yet digested the porter's message, and thinking over and over about it, he concluded it could have no other meaning than that Biondello had a mind to affront him. In the meantime Biondello comes up to him. The moment Filippo saw him, he made at him, and hit him a great thump in the face. "O Lord!" cried Biondello, "what is this for?" Filippo took him by the hair, and threw him upon the ground, saying, "Villain, I will teach thee to crack thy jokes on me." 

At last, after he had pummelled him almost to a jelly, the people interposed, and rescued him. When they understood what the matter was, they all blamed Biondello for sending such message; telling him, "You should know Filippo better than to exercise any of your wit upon him." Biondello, crying like a child, protested that he never sent any such message, and departed full of grief to his own house, concluding that this was a trick of Ciacco's. Some time afterwards Ciacco happening to meet him, said, with a laugh, "Well! what think you of Filippo's wine?" "Just as you thought of Corso's lampreys," he replied. - "Whenever you are disposed," quoth Ciacco, "to give me such a dinner, I can give you as good wine as this you have tasted." Biondello, now finding that the other was more than his match, begged to be friends with him, and thenceforth took care to give him no more provocation. 

THE SEVENTH DAY. NOVEL I. Gianni Lotteringhi, knocking, spirit

THE SEVENTH DAY. 

There was now not a star to be seen in the east, but that alone which we call bright Lucifer, which as yet shone gloriously in the dawning day; when the master of the household arose, and went with the necessary provisions to the Ladies' Valley, to have everything ready there, according to the king's command. Roused by the noise of the carriages, his majesty arose soon afterwards, and had all the company called, when they began their march just as the sun was appearing above the earth; lior did the nightingales and other birds ever seem to sing with such exquisite harmony as on that morning. Being ushered on their way by this music, they came to the Ladies' Valley, where, being saluted by choirs of many others, it appeared to them as if all the birds in the valley joined in concert to rejoice at their arrival. 

Now, viewing it all over again, it seemed much more delightful than the day before, as the gaiety of the morning was still more conformable to the beauty of its appearance. After a repast of wine and sweetmeats, not to be behind-hand with the birds, they began to sing, whilst the valley all around echoed back their songs; and the birds, unwilling to be out- done, replied in new and more ravishing notes. At the usual 

hour the table was spread under the shade of the trees, by the side of that beautiful lake, and during the whole time of dining they amused themselves with observing the fishes swimming before them, which afforded various matter for discourse. When the tables were removed, they fell again to singing as merrily as before. Beds having been prepared in different parts of the valley, made close like pavilions, the king gave leave for such as desired it to go to sleep, and the rest had liberty to amuse themselves in the meantime as usual. At the appointed time they met by the basin side, near where they had dined, and sitting down on the carpets, which were spread there for them, the king desired Emilia to begin, and she, with a smile, complied. 

NOVEL I. 

Gianni Lotteringhi hears a knocking at his door, and wakes his wife, who makes him believe it is a spirit, and they both go to conjure it away with a certain prayer, after which the noise ceases. 

Sir, I had much rather any one else had begun such a fine subject as this is, than myself; but, since it is your pleasure that I should be the first, I am ready to comply. I purpose, therefore, to relate what may be of use to you for the time to come; for, If other ladies are as timorous with regard to spirits as I am (although I know nothing certain about them, nor have I met with anybody yet that does), they will here learn a good and effectual prayer to drive them away. 

There dwelt formerly at Florence, in the street of St. Brancazio, a certain wool-comber, called Gianni Lotteringhi, one more fortunate in his trade than wise in other respects; for, being an easy sort of a man, he was frequently chosen a director of the singers in new St. Maria's church, when they had their meetings at his house, and other little favours they shewed him, upon which he greatly valued himself. This was because he gave considerable alms to the brethren there, and, in return for shoes, hoods, and cloaks, which they were daily getting from him, they presented him with the Pater Noster in the vulgar tongue, the song of St. Alexis, the lamentation of St. Bernard, the hymn of Lady Matilda, with more such sort of ware, which he set great store by, and kept carefully for his soul's health and welfare. Now he had a gay, handsome wife, called Tessa, the daughter of Mannuccio della Cuculia, an artful, sensible woman, who, knowing the simplicity of her husband, and being in love with Federigo di Neri, an agreeable young man, contrived with her maid that he should come to see her at a country house, which Gianni had, at a place called Camerata, where she used to pass the summer, her good man coming sometimes thither to sup, and stay all night, and return in the morning to his prayers and his shop. Accordingly, Federigo came and spent that night with her, when it was agreed between them, in order to avoid the trouble of always sending for him, that, as often as he went to and fro, he should look to a vineyard, which was by the side of the house, where he would see an ass's skull fixed upon one of the poles there, and when the snout was turned towards Florence he might safely come, send if the door was shut, upon knocking three times, she would let him in: but if it was turned towards Fiesole, he should then depart, for he might be assured her husband was with her at that time. 

By this contrivance they frequently had meetings. But one night it had happened, that, expecting Federigo to sup with her, she had provided a couple of fowls, when her husband chanced to come in late, at which she was greatly concerned, and they sat down together to a little bacon which she had boiled by itself, whilst she ordered the maid to carry, in a clean napkin, the fowls, with some eggs for sauce, and a bottle of wine, into the garden (to which there was a way without going through the house, and where she and her lover used frequently to meet), and to lay them under a certain peach-tree adjoining the fields. Unfortunately her hurry was so great, that she forgot to desire the maid to wait till Federigo came, to tell him that her master was then at home, and that he should take those things away with him. Therefore, Gianni and she being gone to bed, and the maid likewise, it was not long before Federigo came, and tapped gently at the door, which was so near to their chamber, that Gianni immediately heard it, as did his wife, who, to prevent any suspicion, pretended to be asleep. Presently he knocked a second time, at which Gianni was surprised, and began to jog her, saying, "Do not you hear? somebody knocks at our door." She, who heard it better than himself, pretended to wake out of her sleep, and said, "What is the matter?" - "I tell you," quoth he, "that I thought somebody was at our door." -"At our door!" She replied. "Alas! do you not know what that is? It is a spirit, which, for several nights past, has terrified me so that I have covered myself over head and ears in the bed-clothes, and not dared to look about me again till it was broad day-light." - "Go," quoth Gianni, "why should you be afraid if it is so? For, before we went to bed, I said the Te Lucis, and the Intemerata, with divers other good prayers, and I signed all the bed-posts with the cross, so that it can have no power over us." The lady now, to prevent Federigo's taking any offence at her, thought it best to get up, and let him understand, by some means or other, that Gianni was there: therefore she said to her husband, "What you have done may have secured yourself; but, for my part, I shall not think myself safe, unless we conjure it down now you are here." - "Conjure it down!" quoth Gianni; " how is that to be done?" - "Oh!” said she, "I know how to do it; for the other day, when I went to Fiesole for a pardon, one of those recluses, a most religious lady, seeing me afraid, taught me a certain prayer, which, she assured me, she had often tried to good purpose before she was a nun. Alas! I could never have the boldness to make use of it alone; but, as you are now with me, we will go together, and repeat it." Gianni declared that he was willing, and so they went softly to the door, whilst Federigo began to be uneasy at waiting there so long. "Now," said she to Gianni, "you must take care to spit when I desire you." - "I will," he replied. She then began her charm, and said, 'spirit, spirit, as you came, the same way you may go; but look in the garden, and you will find two fowls, some eggs, and a bottle of wine; drink of the wine, and go away, and hurt not me, nor my Gianni." Having done this, she said to her husband, “spit, dear Gianni." Accordingly, Gianni spit. Federigo, who was without, and heard all this, was relieved from his jealousy, and, notwithstanding his disappointment, he had much ado to keep from laughing out, saying to himself, "I wish you had spit out your teeth." 

She repeated the charm three times, and then they went to bed. Federigo, who depended upon supping with his mistress, and was fasting, went to the peach-tree, found the capons, wine, and eggs, carried them home, and made a good supper; and the next time they were together, they made themselves very merry about the charm. 

Now some people tell the story otherwise; they say that the ass's head was turned towards Fiesole, but a labourer in the vineyard gave it a turn by chance with his stick, and so set it the wrong way, which occasioned Federigo's coming at that time; and that the charm she made use of was, “spirit, spirit, go away in God's name; it was not I, but somebody else, that turned the ass's head. Plague on him, whoever it was; but I am here, with my husband:" also that the lover went away without his supper. But a certain old lady, a neighbour of mine, told me, that both stories were true, as she had heard when she was a child, and that the latter did not happen to Gianni Lotteringhi, but to one called Gianni di Nello, just such another simpleton as Gianni Lotteringhi. Then pray, ladies, take which charm you like best: both have been of service to others in this sort of cases, as you have heard. Try them and they may be as useful to yourselves. 

6-2, Cisti, baker, Signor Geri Spina

NOVEL II. 

Cisti, the baker, by a smart reply, makes Signor Geri Spina sensible of an unreasonable request. 

The whole company was pleased with what Oretta had said, when the queen pointed next to Pampinea, who spoke thus: - It is beyond my capacity to determine whether nature be more in fault, when she joins a generous soul to a homely person; or fortune in dooming a body, graced with a noble spirit, to a mean condition of life; as was the case of a citizen of ours, named Cisti, as well as of many others. For this man, though he had a truly great spirit, yet fortune made him no better than a baker. For my part, I should quarrel with both nature and fortune, did I not know nature to be absolutely wise, and that fortune has a thousand eyes, although fools have described her as blind. I suppose, therefore, that both, being truly wise and judicious, act as we ourselves often do, who, uncertain of what may happen, for our convenience often bucy our most valuable treasure in the meanest places of our houses, as the least liable to suspicion; whence we can fetch them in time of need, and where they have continued more secure than they would have been in the best chamber of the house. So these two ministers of the world do many times hide their most precious blessings under the cover of some mean employ, to the end that, drawing them thence when need requires, they may appear with greater lustre; which was plainly shown, although in a small matter, by our baker Cisti, to the apprehension of Signor Geri Spina, whom the story of Madame Oretta, who was his wife, brings fresh into my mind; as I shall relate in a very short novel. 

You must know, then, that Pope Boniface, with whom this same Signor Geri was in great esteem, having occasion to send ambassadors to Florence, about some particular business, they were entertained at this Geri Spina's house, and employed with him in the said pope's negotiation. It happened, whatever was the reason, that they passed on foot every morning by the church of St. Maria Ughi, where Cisti the baker dwelt, and followed his trade. Though fortune had given Cisti but a mean employ, yet in this respect she had been kind to him - that he had grown very rich in it; and, without having any desire to leave it for a better, he lived very generously among his neighbours, having everything in plenty, the best wine especially, both red and white, that the country could afford. Now, seeing the ambassadors walk daily by his door, Cesti supposed, as the season was sultry, that it would be esteemed a kindness to let them drink some of his fine white wine; but regarding at the same time the disparity between his station and theirs, he would not presume to invite them, but thought of a way whereby Signor Geri might be induced of his own accord to taste it. Having a white frock on, therefore, with an apron before him, which bespoke him rather a miller than a baker, every morning about the time that he supposed they should come that way, would he order a bucket full of fair water to be brought, and a decanter of wine, with a couple of beakers as bright as crystal, to be set before him; then, seating himself at his door, and first clearing his mouth and throat, he would take a draught or two just as they were going past, with a gusto sufficient to cause an appetite almost in a man that was dead. 

Signor Gerì observing this once or twice, said, the third time, "What say you? Is your wine good, Master Cisti?" "That it is, signor," he replied, starting up; "but how can I convince you unless you taste?" Signor Geri, whom either the heat of the weather, or his extraordinary fatigue, or perhaps the relish with which he saw the other drink, had rendered thirsty, turned with a smile to the ambassadors, and said, "Gentlemen, we may as well drink of this honest man's wine, perhaps it is such that we shall not need to repent." Accordingly they went together to Cisti, who, ordering seats to be brought out of his bakehouse, prayed them to sit down, saying to their servants, who offered to wash their glasses, "Friends, get you gone; leave this to me. I am no worse a skinker than a baker, and stay you ever so long you shall not taste a drop." Washing then four neat glasses, and ordering a fresh decanter to be brought, he filled round to Signor Geri and the ambassadors, who all thought it the best wine they had tasted in a long time; and having highly commended it, they called to drink with him most mornings during their stay. At length, having despatched their business, and being about to depart. Signor Geri made an entertainment for them, to which he invited a great part of the most eminent citizens, and Cisti amongst the rest, who could by no means be persuaded to go. Signor Geri then ordered one of his servants to fetch a flask of Cisti's wine, and to fill half a glass lound to all the company at the first table. The servant (offended, as we may suppose, that he had never been able to get a taste of it) took a very large bottle, which as soon as Cisti saw, he said, "Friend, Signor Geri never sent thee to me." The servant affirmed over and over that he had, but meeting with no other reply, he returned to his master, and told him. Then said Signor Geri, "Go back, and tell him that I did send thee, and if he makes the like answer again, ask him whither he thinks I should send thee." The servant went again, and said, "Most assuredly. Signor Geri, my master, has sent me to you." - "I tell thee, friend, it is impossible." - "Then," quoth the servant, "whither do you think he sent me?" - "To the river Arno." When the fellow reported this answer to Signor Geri, his eyes were immediately opened, and he said, "Let me see what bottle it was which you carried to him." On seeing it, he added, "Now, trust me, Cisti spoke truth." Then reprimanding him severely, he ordered him to take a more suitable vessel, which as soon as Cisti saw, he said, "Why now I am certain that he sent thee to me; "and he filled it very readily for him. That day also he had a cask filled with the same wine, which he sent to Signor Geri's house, and going himself after it, he thus addressed him: - “sir, I would not have you think that I was any way startled at the sight of the great bottle this morning; but as I imagined you had forgotten what I had endeavoured to intimate to you for several days past with my little decanters; namely, that mine is no wine for servants; so I only did it to remind you again of the same. But, meaning to be steward no longer, I have now brought my whole store; dispose of it as you please.” Signor Geri was extremely thankful for his valuable present, and ever afterwards esteemed him as his most intimate friend.