7-2, Peronella, tub

NOVEL II. 

Peronella puts her gallant into a tub on her husband's coming home, which tub the husband had sold; she consequently tells him that she had also sold it to a person who was then in it, to see if it was sound. Upon this the man jumps out, makes the husband clean it for him, and carries it home. 

Emilia's novel was heard with a great deal of mirth, and the charm esteemed a very good one. The king then ordered Filostrato to follow, which he did in the following manner: - My dear ladies, the tricks which are put upon you by us men, and especially by your husbands, are so many, that if ever it happens that a woman does the like, you should not only be pleased to hear of it, but you yourselves should spread it every where, to let the men understand, that if they are cunning, you are so too. This must have a good effect, for when it is known that people are forewarned, nobody will go about so soon to deceive them. Who sees not then that this day's discourse being noised among the men, may not be a restraint upon them in that respect, when they come to find that you know how to serve them in the same way? I will tell you, therefore, what a woman, though but of mean rank, did to her husband in a moment, as it were, for her own safety. 

It was not long since that a poor man at Naples married a young and handsome wife, named Peronella, and he being a mason, and she spinning every day, they managed to gain a tolerable livelihood. Now it happened that a young man in the neighbourhood took a liking to her, and making a discovery of his inclinations, it was at length agreed between them, that, as the husband went out every morning to his work, he should watch that opportunity to come to her, which accordingly he did more than once. But one morning amongst the rest, the honest man being gone abroad, and Giannello Strignario, for that was the gallant's name, visiting her as usual, in a little time the husband returned, though he was not used to come home till night, and finding the door bolted on the inside, he knocked, and then said to himself, "Thank Heaven, though I am poor, I have an honest and careful wife; for no sooner am I gone out than she makes all fast, that nobody should come in my absence to do us an injury." Peronella, who knew it was her husband by his manner of knocking, said, "Alas! Giannello, I am a dead woman; here's my husband come back - bad luck to him; I cannot imagine for what reason, unless it was that he saw you come in; but for God's sake, be it as it will, go you into that tub, whilst I open the door, and we shall see what this sudden retiim of his means." 

Accordingly Giannello stepped into the tub, whilst she let her husband into the house; and, putting on an angry look, she said, "Pray what new fancy is this, your coming home so early today? It seems you mean to do no more work, as you have now got your tools with you. And what are we to live upon in the meantime? Do you think I will suffer you to pawn my gown, and what few clothes I have? I do nothing but spin night and day, till I have worn my fingers to the very stumps, and all will scarcely find us oil to our lamp. Husband, husband, there is not a neighbour we have but wonders, and makes jest of me, for all the labour I undergo, and yet you return here, with your hands in your pockets, when you ought to be at work." Then she began to cry and sob. "Oh, what a poor unfortunate wretch I am! in an ill hour was I born, and worse it was when I happened to meet with you! I could have had a young man that would have maintained me well, and I refused him for this creature here, who knows not how to value a good wife. Other women have a good time with their gallants; some have two or three, and make their husbands believe the moon is made of green cheese; and because I am virtuous, and never think of such practices, for that reason I am used the worse. I see no cause why I should not have my gallants as well as they. I would have you to know, that I have had offers of money and other things from a great number of young gentlemen, but nothing of that kind could seduce me: no, I was never the daughter of such a mother, and yet you will come home when you ought to be at work." - "My dear," said the husband, "do not make yourself uneasy; I know well what a good woman you are, and have had farther proof of it this morning: I did go out to work, indeed; but neither of us then knew that it was the feast of St. Galeone, which is to be kept holy, and that is why I am come back: nevertheless, I have found means that we shall have bread for a month, for I have sold the tub, which you know has been long in our way, to this man whom I have brought with me, for five shillings." - “so much the worse," she answered; "you that go up and down, and should know things better, to sell a thing for five shillings, which I, a poor ignorant woman, that keep always within doors, considering the room it took up in our house, have now sold it to an honest man for six, and who had just got into it, as you came to the door, to see whether it was sound." 

When the husband heard this, he was much rejoiced, and said to the man he had brought, "Friend, you may go about your business; you hear it is sold for six, whereas you were to have given no more than five." - "With all my heart," said the honest man, and away he went. "But," quoth Peronella to her husband, "as you are now here, even make the agreement with the man yourself." 

Giannello, who was listening to what passed between them, on hearing these words, came out of the tub, and said, as if he knew nothing of the husband, "Where is the good woman?" The husband, stepping forward, replied, "Here I am: what do you want?" - "Who are you?" answered Giannello, "I want the woman who sold me the tub." - "You may make the bargain with me, for I am her husband." - "Then," said Giannello, "the tub appears to be sound; but it seems as if you had kept dregs in it, for it is so crusted all over in the inside, that I cannot scratch one bit off with my nail; therefore, I will not have it till it is made clean." - "This shall never break the bargain," said Peronella, "my husband will soon clean it out for you." The husband said, with all his heart; and laying down his iron tools, and stripping to his shirt, he got a scraper, and going into the tub with a candle, he fell to work. Whilst he was thus busied, Peronella put her head and one arm and shoulder into the mouth of the tub, which was not large, as if to see how he got on, and bade him scrape here and there, and there again, and take care that he did not leave a speck in it. While she was thus engaged, and completely stopping up the mouth of the tub, Giannello, who had not done all he came for before he was surprised by the husband's return, took the opportunity thus offered him, and the two jobs were finished at the same moment. Peronella drew her head out of the tub, the husband crept out, and handing the candle to Giannello, he said, "Here, honest man, take the candle, and see whether it is to your liking." He peeped into it, said it was all right, gave them thè six shillings, and had it carried to his own house. 

[This tale has been translated, by Boccaccio, from a story which may be found near the beginning of the ninth book of the "Golden Ass of Apuleius." It is the "Cuvier" of La Fontaine.] 

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. 

6-10, Friar Onion, feather, Angel Gabriel, coals, St. Laurence

NOVEL X. 

Friar Onion promises some country people to show them a feather from the wing of the Angel Gabriel, instead of which he finds only some coals, which he tells them are the same that roasted St. Laurence. 

After they had told all their different stories, and Dioneo perceived that only himself was left to speak, without waiting for any regular command, he enjoined silence on such as were commending Guido's deep reply, and thus began: - Though I boast it, ladies, as my privilege to relate what pleases me most, yet I intend not today to depart from the subject which you have all spoken so well upon; but, following your footsteps, I shall show with what a sudden shift a certain friar, of the order of St. Anthony, most artfully avoided the disgrace and confusion which two arch young fellows had prepared for him; and if, to make my story more complete, I spin it out a little in length, I hope it will not be disagreeable, as the sun is yet in the midst of heaven. 

Certaldo, as you may all have heard, is a village in the vale of Elsa, dependent on the state of Florence, which, though small, has long been inhabited by many gentlemen and people of substance. Thither a certain friar Onion, of the order of St. Anthony, used to go once a year, as he found pretty good pickings, to receive the contributions of many simple people, and he met with great encouragement always, as much, perhaps, on account of his name, as from devout motives; for that country was famous for the best onions in all Tuscany. Now this friar was a little red-haired man, of a merry countenance, as artful a knave too as any in the world: add to this, that, though he was np scholar, yet was he so prompt and voluble of tongue, that such as knew him not, would not only have considered him a great orator, but have compared him even to Tully or Quinctilian. He was also a common gossip-acquaintance to the whole neighbourhood. Coming thither, therefore, in the month of August, according to custom, one Sunday morning, when all the honest people were met together in the church to hear mass, as soon as he saw a fit opportunity, he stepped forward and said: 

"Gentlemen and ladies, you know it has been a commendable custom with you to send every year to the poor brethren of our Lord Baron, St. Anthony, both of your corn and other provisions, some more, and some less, according to your several abilities and devotions, to the end that our blessed St. Anthony should be more careful of your oxen, sheep, asses, swine, and other cattle. Moreover, you are accustomed to pay, such of you especially as have their names registered in our fraternity, that small annual acknowledgment which I am now sent by my superior, namely, our lord-abbot, to collect. Therefore, with the blessing of God, after nones as soon as you shall hear the bells ring, you may all come to the church-door, when I shall preach a sermon as usual, and you shall all kiss the cross; and, besides this, as I know you all to be devoted to our lord, St. Anthony, I intend, as a special favour, to show you one of the feathers of the Angel Gabriel, which he dropped at the annunciation in the Virgin's chamber;" and, having made his speech, he returned to mass. Whilst he was haranguing, there were two arch fellows in the church, one named Giovanni dei Bragoniera, and the other Biagio Pizzini, who, after they had laughed together at the father's relics, although they were his friends and acquaintance, resolved to play him a trick with regard to this feather. Understanding that he was to dine that day with a friend, as soon as they thought he might be set down at table, they went to the inn where he lodged, Biagio undertaking to keep his man in talk, whilst Giovanni ransacked his wallet to steal the feather, that they might see what he would then say to the people. Now the friar had a lad, named Guccio, with so many different nicknames and qualities, that the most fertile imagination was hardly able to describe them; and Father Onion used frequently to jest and say, "My rascal has in him nine qualities, any one of which if it had belonged either to Solomon, Aristotle, or Seneca, would have baffled and confounded all their philosophy, and all their virtue. You may suppose then what sort of creature he must be, that has nine such, without either philosophy or virtue to counterbalance them." 

If asked what those nine qualities were, he would answer in doggrel: 

"In sloth and lying he was ne'er outdone; 

For theft and envy equals he hath none: 

Forgetful, disobedient and uncivil; 

Lewd as a goat, and spiteful as the devil. 

"Besides these qualities he has also many others, and one in particular I cannot help laughing at, which is, that he is for taking a wife wherever he goes: and having a great black greasy beard, he is persuaded that all women must fall in love with him; or, should they take no notice of him, he will be sure to run after them. But yet he is a notable fellow to me in one respect, that if anybody has a secret to communicate, he will come in for his share of it; and should any one ask me a question, he is so fearful that I should not know how to make an answer, that he will be sure to say. Yes, or No, before me, just as he thinks proper." 

But to return to our story. This fellow, Friar Onion left at the inn, with a particular charge to see that nobody meddled with anything belonging to him, especially his wallet, because it contained the holy relics. But Cuccio loved the kitchen as well as the nightingale loves the boughs, particularly when any of the maids were alone there, and, as soon as his master was gone, down he went, leaving the chamber door open. In the kitchen he found a fat, squat, dirty, greasy, ill-favoured wench, and falling into discourse with her, he seated himself by the fireside, though it was in August, whilst she was busy cooking, and began to tell her he was a gentleman, and worth a great lot of money; that he could say and do wonders, and (without considering that his own hat was all over grease and dirt; that his jacket was nothing but a thousand different patches; that his breeches were torn throughout, and his shoes all to pieces) he talked as big as if he had been some lord, saying that he would buy her new clothes, and take her out of service, and that she should partake of his present possessions, as well as future fortunes, with a great deal more of that kind of stuff, mere froth and wind. The two young fellows, finding him thus engaged, were very well satisfied, supposing half their work to be done; and leaving the pair together, they went up stairs into the friar's chamber, which was unlocked, when the first thing they saw was the wallet: this they opened, and found a casket wrapped up in some folds of fine taffeta, and in it a parroquet's feather, which they supposed to be the same that Friar Onion had promised to shew the people; and surely at that time it was easy enough to impose upon them in that manner. The eastern luxury had not then reached Tuscany, which has since flowed in upon us, to the ruin of our country; the ancient simplicity still prevailed; nor was there a person that had ever heard of, not to say beheld such a thing as a parrot. Not a little pleased at meeting with this feather, they took it away, and, that the box should not be empty, they put in some coals, which they saw lying in a comer of the chamber; and wrapping it up again as before, and making all snug, they walked off, waiting to see how the friar would behave when he found the coals instead of the feather. 

The people who were at church being told that they were to see the angel's feather, went home and acquainted all their neighbours, and the news ran from one to another, so that the moment dinner was over, they all crowded to the town, in such a manner that every part was full, waiting for the sight. By and by, Friar Onion, having eaten a good dinner, and taken his nap after it, understanding that there were great multitudes expecting him, sent to his servant to fetch his wallet, and ring to church. The fellow, though loath to leave his mistress and the fireside, did as he was ordered, and fell to chiming the bells. As soon, then, as the people were all assembled, the friar, not perceiving that anything had been meddled with, entered upon his discourse, running over a thousand things proper to his purpose: and being come to the showing of the feather, he began, with a solemn confession; then lighting up two torches, and gently unwrapping the silken cover, having first pulled off his cap, he took out the box, and making some short ejaculations to the praise and honour of the Angel Gabriel, and of the relic, he opened it. When he saw that it was full of coals, he could not help secretly blaming himself for leaving such a fellow in trust, who, he imagined, had been imposed on by somebody or other; but yet, without so much as changing colour, or showing the least concern, he lifted up his eyes and hands to heaven and said, "O God, blessed for ever be thy power and might!" And shutting the box, he turned again to the people, and added: "Gentlemen and ladies, you must all understand, that being very young, I was sent by my superior to those parts where the sun first appears, with an express command to inquire into the nature of porcelain, which, though it costs but little in making, affords more profit to others, than it does to us. For this purpose I embarked at Venice, and went through Greece; I proceeded thence on horseback, through the kingdom of Garbo, and through Baldacca; afterwards I came to Parione, and thence I made mv way, not without thirst, to Sardinia. But why need I mention to you all these places? I coasted on still, till I passed the straits of St. George, into Truffia, and then into Buffia, which are countries much inhabited, and with great numbers of people. 

Next I came to the land of Mendacity, where I found many of our own order, as well as of others, who avoid all labour and trouble, for Heaven's sake, taking no care for other people's sufferings, when their own interest is promoted thereby; and there they spend only uncoined money. Thence I went to the land of Abruzzi, where the men and women go upon socks over the mountains, and where it is the custom to dress swine in garments of their own guts; and, a little further on, I came among a people who carried bread in their staves, and wine in satchels. Leaving them behind me, I came to the mountains of Bacchus, where the waters all run downwards. Last of all, I arrived in India Pastinaca, where, I swear to you, by the habit I wear, that I saw serpents fly, a thing incredible to such as have never seen it: but I tell you no lie, witness Maso del Saggio, a great merchant whom I found there cracking nuts, and selling the shells by retail. Nevertheless, not being able to find what I went to look for, because the way thence to that country is by water, I returned to the Holy Land, where, in summer, a loaf of cold bread is worth four pence, and the hot is given away for nothing. There I found the venerable father, Blame-me-not-if-you-please, patriarch of Jerusalem, who, out of reverence to my habit, and love to our Lord Baron, St. Anthony, would have me see all the holy relics which he had in keeping, and which were so many, that were I to recount them, I should never come to an end: but yet, not to leave you altogether disconsolate, I shall now mention a few." First, then, he showed me a finger of the Holy Ghost, as whole and sound as ever: next a lock of hair of the Seraph that appeared to St. Francis, with the paring of a Cherub's nail, and a rib of the Verbum Caro, fastened to one of the windows; some vestments of the holy catholic Faith, and a few rays of that star which appeared to the wise men; a phial also of St. Michael's sweat, when he fought with the devil; the jaw-bone of St. Lazarus, and many others. And because I gave him two of the plains of Mount Morello, in the vulgar edition, and some chapters of the Caprezio, which he had been long searching after, he let me partake of his relics. 

And first, he gave me a tooth of the Sancta Crux, and a little bottle filled with some of the sound of those bells which hung in the temple of Solomon; a feather also of the Angel Gabriel, as I have told you, with a wooden patten, which the good St. Gherrardo da Villa Magna used to wear in his travels, and which I have lately given to Gherrardo di Bonsi, at Florence, who holds it in great veneration. He gave me also some of the coals on which our blessed martyr, St. Laurence, was broiled, all which I devoutly received, and do now possess. It is true, my superior would not suffer me to make them public, till he was assured that they were genuine; but being now convinced of it by sundry miracles, as well as by letters received from the patriarch, he has given me leave to 

show them, and which, for fear of trusting any one with them, I always carry with me. "Indeed, I have the angel's feather, for its better preservation, in a wooden box, and I have St. Laurence's coals in another: and the two are so like each other, that I have often mistaken them; and so it has happened now; for, instead of that with the feather, I have brought the box which contains the coals. This I would not have you call an error; no, I am well assured it was Heaven's particular will, now I call to mind that two days hence is the feast of St. Laurence. Therefore it was ordered that I should show you the most holy coals on which he was broiled, to kindle in your hearts that true devotion which you ought to have towards him, and not the feather: approach then, my blessed children, kneel with reverence, and uncover your heads with all due devotion, whilst you behold them. But first I must acquaint you, that whoever is marked with these coals, with the sign of the cross, may live secure for one whole year, that no fire shall have any power over him." 

So, singing a hymn to the praise of St. Laurence, he opened the box, and showed the coals, which the simple multitude beheld with the utmost zeal and astonishment, and crowded about him with larger offerings than usual, entreating to be signed with them. Then, taking the coals in his hand, he began to mark all their white mantles, fine jackets and veils, with the largest crosses that could be made upon them, affirming, that what was consumed of the coals in this manner grew again in the box, as he had frequently experienced. Thus having crossed all the people of Certaldo, to his own great benefit, by this dexterous device, he laughed in his sleeve at those who had designed to have made a jest of him. And they being present at his discourse, and hearing this sudden shift of his, and how he had made it pass with the multitude, were ready to die with laughter. After the people were all departed, they went and told him, with all the pleasure in the world, what they had done, and returned him his feather, which served him the following year to as good purpose as the coals had done that day. 

[This tale was honoured by the formal censure of the Council of Trent, and is the one which gave the greatest umbrage to the Church. In Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales" there is a similar satire on ludicrous relics. The Pardonere, who had just arrived from Rome, carried in his wallet, along with other treasures of a like description, part of the sail of St. Peter's ship, and the veil of the Virgin Mary: 

And with these relikes, whenne that he fond 

A poore persone dwelling upon lond. 

Upon a day he gat him more moneie 

Than that the person gat in monethes tweie. 

A catalogue of relics rivalling in absurdity those of Chaucer's Pardonere, or Boccaccio's Friar Onion, is presented in Sir David Lindsay's "Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis." In the thirty-eighth chapter of "Stephen's Apology for Herodotus," we are told that a priest of Genoa, returning from the Levant, boasted that he had brought from Bethlehem the breath of our Saviour, in a vial, and from Sinai the horns which Moses wore when he descended from that mountain. Luther tells us, in his "Table Talk," that the Bishop of Mentz pretended to possess the flames of the bush which Moses beheld burning.] 

This novel afforded great mirth to the whole company, and they laughed heartily at the father, his pilgrimage, and his holy relics. The queen, knowing her reign to be at an end, took the crown from her own head, and placed it with a smile upon Dioneo's, saying, "It is now time for you to prove what a task it is to govern women. Be king, therefore, and rule in such a manner, that in the end we may have reason to praise you." Dioneo, accepting the crown, replied, merrily, "I doubt not but you may have often seen a better king among the chessmen than I shall make; yet assuredly, if you would obey me, as a real king should be obeyed, I would take care you should have plenty of that, without which no entertainment is ever thoroughly agreeable. But let us say no more on that head: I will reign as well as I can." Calling then the master of the household, he ordered what should be done during his own royalty; and then he added, "Ladies, we have had so many subjects already, showing the several devices and means of human industry, that I am at a loss what to give you, unless you will accept of the following, namely, concerning such tricks and stratagems, as women either out of love, or for their own security, have put upon their husbands, whether they have been detected or not." This seemed not so decent to some of the ladies, and they desired him to change it. But he replied, "Ladies, I know as well as you do what the subject is, and all that you can allege will have no weight with me to make me alter it, considering that the season now is such, that, provided we are circumspect in our actions, any discourse for a little amusement is allowable. Know you not, that through the malignity of the times the judges have now left their tribunals, the laws both Divine and human are silent, and every one has leave to do what he thinks necessary for his own preservation? Therefore, if we take a little more liberty than ordinary in our discourse, with no bad intention, but only to pass away our time in an innocent, inoffensive manner, I see no room for reflection. Besides, from the very first day of our meeting we have always kept within the bounds of decency, and so I hope we shall continue to do. Who is there also that is unacquainted with your modesty and virtue? which, so far from being shaken by any slight discourse, would be proof even against the terrors of death. And to tell you truth, whoever should see you averse to such little diversions, might suspect that your characters were not so clear as they should be, and that you refused to join in them for that reason; not to mention the little honour you do me, in first choosing me your king, and then refusing to obey my commands. Away then with this suspicion, more befitting base and wicked dispositions than such as yours; and, without farther hesitation, let every one think of some pleasant story." 

Upon this they agreed that it should be as the king desired; and he then gave them leave to depart till supper-time. The sun was yet high, as the novels had been but short; therefore, whilst Dioneo, with the other gentlemen, were sat down to play at tables, Eliza called the other ladies apart, and said, "Ever since we have been here, have I desired to show you a place not far off, where I believe none of you ever were, and which is called the Ladies' Valley; nor have I had an opportunity before today of doing it. It is yet some hours till night, if you would choose then to go thither, I dare say you will be pleased with your walk." 

The ladies answered, that they were all willing, and, without saying a word to the gentlemen, they called one of their women to attend them, and after a walk of nearly a mile, they came to the Ladies' Valley, which they entered by a straight path, whence there issued forth a fine crystal current, and they found it so extremely beautiful and pleasant, especially at that sultry season, that nothing could exceed it; and, as some of them told me afterwards, the plain in the valley was as exact a circle as if it had been described by a pair of compasses, though it seemed rather the work of nature than of art, and was about half a mile in circumference, surrounded with six hills of moderate height, on each of which was a palace built in form of a little castle. The descents from these hills were as regular as we see in a theatre, where the circle of each stage grows gradually less and less, till it comes to the bottom. The part that looks towards the south was planted as thick as they could stand together, with vines, olives, almonds, cherries, figs, and most other kinds of fruit-trees; and on the northern side were fine plantations of oak, ash, etc., so tall and regular, that nothing could be more beautiful. The vale, which had only that one entrance, was full of firs, cypress-trees, laurels, and pines, all placed in such order, as if it had been done by the direction of some exquisite artist, and through which little or no sun could penetrate to the ground, which was covered with a thousand different flowers. But what gave no less delight than any of the rest, was a rivulet that came through a valley, which divided two of the mountains, and running through the vein of a rock, made a most agreeable murmur with its fall, appearing, as it was dashed and sprinkled into drops, like so much quicksilver. Arriving in the plain beneath, it was there received in a fine canal, and running swiftly to the middle of the plain, formed a basin not deeper than a man's breast, which showed its clear gravelly bottom, with pebbles intermixed, so that any one might see and count them: the fishes also appeared, swimming up and down in great plenty, which made it wonderfully pleasant; whilst the water that overflowed was received in another little canal, which conveyed it out of the valley. 

Hitherto the ladies all came together, and after much praising the place, and seeing the basin before them, and that it was very private, they agreed to bathe. Ordering, therefore, the maid to keep watch, and to let them know if anybody was coming, they stripped and went into it, and it covered their delicate bodies in like manner as a rose is concealed in a crystal glass. After they had diverted themselves there for some time with bathing, they clothed them- (EN: themselves; the page 321 is missing in the pdf. The song is not the same as in other editions. It is not full:)

Nor sighs, nor tears can move 

His heart to love. 

O love, etc. 

The winds, with inauspicious breeze, 

Waft my unheeded prayers away. 

Whilst hourly I decay; 

Yet neither life nor death can please. 

Then yield, in pity to my woe. 

That he thy bondage too may know. 

O love, etc. 

Cupid, I humbly ask of thee, 

Or grant me this, or set me free; 

This favour, if thou wilt bestow. 

My youthful bloom 

I shall resume. 

And on my face again the rose and lily blow. 

O love, could I escape from thee, 

I always would be free. 

(EN: I add the song from another edition:)

 

Love, from thy clutches could I but win free,

Hardly, methinks, again

Shall any other hook take hold on me.

I entered in thy wars a youngling maid,

Thinking thy strife was utmost peace and sweet,

And all my weapons on the ground I laid,

As one secure, undoubting of defeat;

But thou, false tyrant, with rapacious heat,

Didst fall on me amain

With all the grapnels of thine armoury.

Then, wound about and fettered with thy chains,

To him, who for my death in evil hour

Was born, thou gav’st me, bounden, full of pains

And bitter tears; and syne within his power

He hath me and his rule’s so harsh and dour

No sighs can move the swain

Nor all my wasting plaints to set me free.

My prayers, the wild winds bear them all away;

He hearkeneth unto none and none will hear;

Wherefore each hour my torment waxeth aye;

I cannot die, albeit life irks me drear.

Ah, Lord, have pity on my heavy cheer;

Do that I seek in vain

And give him bounden in thy chains to me.

An this thou wilt not, at the least undo

The bonds erewhen of hope that knitted were;

Alack, O Lord, thereof to thee I sue,

For, an thou do it, yet to waxen fair

Again I trust, as was my use whilere,

And being quit of pain

Myself with white flowers and with red besee.

Eliza concluded her song with a most piteous sigh, and all of them wondered what the words could mean; but the king, being in a good temper, called for Tindaro, and bade him bring out his bagpipes, to which they danced several dances; till a good part of the night being spent in that manner, they gave over, and went to bed.