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." ] 

7-4, Tofano shuts his wife one night out of doors

NOVEL IV. 

Tofano shuts his wife one night out of doors, and she, not being able to persuade him to let her in, pretends to throw herself into a well, and drops a big stone in; he runs thither in a fright; she slips into the house, and locking him out, abuses him well. 

Eliza had no sooner made an end, than the king turned to Lauretta, who immediately began to this effect: - O love, how great is thy prevailing influence! how various and subtle are thy devices! What artist, what philosopher, could ever think of or contrive such shifts and evasions, as thou teachest in an instant to those that follow thy ways? 

All Other instructions whatever are slow compared to thine, as appears by what has already been said on the subject: to which I mean to add the stratagem of a certain lady, conducted in such a manner, as nothing but love could ever have dictated. 

There lived at Arezzo a certain rich man named Tofano, who had a very handsome wife, named Monna Ghita, of whom, all at once, and without knowing why, he became extremely jealous. This greatly vexed the lady, who would frequently demand of him his reasons for such a suspicion; and he being able to assign none, but such as were general, or nothing to the purpose, she resolved to plague him with the real evil, which hitherto had only been imaginary. Having observed that a certain young gentleman had taken particular notice of her, she encouraged him so far, that they only waited for a favourable opportunity to put their design into execution. Amongst the rest of her husband's bad qualities, he had taken, she perceived, to drinking, which she not only seemed pleased with, but would persuade him to drink more, and make him drunk as often as she could. In this way she first found an opportunity of being with her lover, and from that time, they met continually, and by the same means. She depended indeed so much upon this drunken disposition of her husband's, that she would not only bring her lover into the house, but even go out and spend the greatest part of the night along with him, his residence not being very far off. 

Matters continuing thus, the husband began to perceive that, whilst she encouraged him to drink in that manner, she scarcely tasted wine herself; and thence he was led to suspect, as was really the case, that she made him drunk with a view only to her own private purposes, during the time of his being asleep. Desiring to have some positive proof of this, he pretended once (without having drunk a drop all that day), both in his words and actions, to be the most disordered creature that could be; perceiving which, and thinking that he had then had a dose sufficient, and that he would sleep without any more liquor, she straightway put him to bed. Tofano finding his wife did not come to bed, got up, and bolted the door, and then went and sat at the window to wait for her coming home, that she might see that he was acquainted with her doings, and there he continued till her return. She, finding the door bolted, was exceedingly uneasy, and tried several times to force it open. After Tofano had suffered this for some time, he said, "Madam, you give yourself trouble to no purpose, for here you shall not come: go back, if you please, for you shall enter these doors no more, till I have showed you that respect, which these ways of yours require, before all your relations and neighbours." 

She then begged, for Heaven's sake, that he would open the door, saying, that she had not been where he imagined; but that, as the evenings were long, and she could neither sleep all the time, nor sit up by herself, she had gone to see a gentlewoman in the neighbourhood. But all was to no purpose, he seemed resolved that the whole town should be witnesses of their shame, when otherwise they would have known nothing of the matter. The lady, finding her entreaties of no effect, had recourse to threats, and said, "Either open the door, or I will make you the most miserable man that ever was born." Tofano replied, "And which way will you do it?" She, whose wits were sharpened by love, continued, "Before I will suffer such a disgrace, as you mean wrongfully to fasten upon me, I will throw myself directly into this well, and when I am found there afterwards, everybody will conclude that you did it in one of your drunken fits; and then there will be no help for you but to fly your country, and lose all your property, or be put to death for murdering your wife." All this, however, having no effect upon him, she cried out: "I can no longer bear your scorn, God forgive you for being the cause of my death! "and the night being so dark that they could scarcely see one another, she ran towards the well, took up a great stone that lay by the well-side, and crying aloud, "God forgive this act of mine!" She let it fall into the well. The stone made a great noise when it came to the water, which Tofano hearing, firmly believed that she had thrown herself in, and taking the rope and bucket he ran to help her out. She meanwhile stood concealed by the side of the door, and seeing him go towards the well, she got into the house, and made all fast; then going to the window, she began to say to him, "Why, husband, you should use water whilst you are drinking, and not after you have made yourself drunk." Tofano, seeing her laugh at him, returned, and, finding the door bolted, begged of her to 

open it. But she now changed her note, and began to cry out, "You drunken, worthless, troublesome wretch! you shall not come in here to-night; I can no longer bear with your evil practices; I will let all the world know what sort of a person you are, and what hours you keep." "Tofano, on the other hand, being grievously provoked, used all the bad language he could think of, and made a most terrible uproar. The neighbours were all roused out of their beds, and, coming to their windows, inquired what was the matter. Upon this she began to lament and say, "It is this wicked man, who is always coming home drunk at all hours of the night. I have endured this a long time, and said a great deal to no purpose, and now I wanted to try if I could not shame him out of it by locking him out." Tofano, on the contrary, told them how the matter was, and threatened her exceeding. "There!'said she to the neighbours, "Now you see what sort of a man he is: what would you say if I were in the street and he within doors, as I am? Then you might think he was in the right. Take notice, I beseech you, how artful he is: he says I have done that which he seems to have done himself, and talks something about the well; but I wish he was in it, that he might have some water as well as wine." 

The neighbours all joined in blaming Tofano, deeming him the person in fault, and giving him many hard words for his usage of his wife; and the thing was noised about the city, till her relations heard of it, who came thither in a body, and inquiring of one neighbour and another how it was, they took Tofano, and beat him very severely. Afterwards they went into the house, and carried the lady away with them, with all that was hers, threatening Tofano with farther punishment. And now, finding the ill effects of his jealousy, and still having a regard for his wife, he got some friends to intercede with her to come home again, promising never more to be jealous, and giving her leave for the future to do as she would. Thus, like a simple knave, he was glad to purchase peace, after having been to the last degree injured. 

[The "Calandra" of Cardinal Bibbiena, the best comedy that appeared in Italy previous to the time of Goldoni, is taken from this tale; so also is one of Duncourt's plays, and it probably suggested to Moliere the plot of his celebrated comedy, "George Dandin.” The story, however, had been frequently told before the time of Boccaccio, being one of the fabliaux of the "Trouveurs," published by Le Grand (vol. iii., p. 143). It appears in the still more ancient tales of Petrus Alphonsus, and in one of the French versions of "Dolopator, or the Seven Wise Masters." ] 

7-3, Friar Rinaldo, affair

NOVEL III. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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