10-7, King Pietro

NOVEL VII. 

King Pietro, knowing that a lady was love-sick for him, makes her a visit and marries her to a worthy gentleman; then, kissing her forehead calls himself ever afterwards her knight. 

Fiammetta 's novel was concluded, and the manly king's generosity much commended, although there were some of the Ghibelline faction present that seemed not to relish it; when Pampinea, having the king's command, began as follows: - Every one must praise the king for what he did, excepting such as bear him ill-will upon some other account: but as I now call to mind a thing no less praiseworthy, that was done by an enemy of his to a lady of our city, I shall beg leave to relate it. 

At the time when the French were driven out of Sicily, there dwelt at Palermo, a Florentine apothecary, called Bernardo Puccini, one of very great substance, and who had an only daughter, a fine young lady, and of age to be married. Now King Pietro, having become lord of the whole island, made a great feast for all his barons at Palermo: and, as he was jousting in the street called Catalana (NE: original: ... armeggiando egli alla catalana...; a manner of jousting, a style; the street Catalana appears in Naples), it chanced that Bernardo's daughter, whose name was Lisa, being in company with other ladies, at a window, observed him with great pleasure; and she gazed so long, that at last she found herself deeply in love. The feast being over, she returned home, still thinking of nothing but this great and exalted love. But that which troubled her most was the consideration of her mean rank, which left her no hopes of success; nevertheless, she would by no means withdraw her affection, though at the same time she was afraid to disclose it. Love thus getting every day more power over her, the fair maid, unable to hold up any longer, fell at last into a languishing sickness, wasting manifestly like snow before the sun. The father and mother, by their own continual care, as well as the help of physicians, did all in their power to relieve her, but to no purpose; she. despaired in her love, and so desired to die. Now one day it happened, as the father was offering her his best services, that a thought came into her head, to make her love known to the king before her death, and she desired that Minuccio d'Arezzo might come to her. This Minuccio was a fine singer, and often with the king: the father therefore sent for him, supposing that she had a mind to be a little diverted. He came, and played a tune or two upon his violin, and sang her several songs, which, instead of appeasing, only added to her love. At length she expressed a desire to speak to him in private; so, every one else having left the room, she spoke to this purpose: 

"Minuccio, I have chosen to intrust you with a secret, hoping, in the first place, that you will only reveal it to the person concerned; and, secondly, that you will assist me to the utmost of your power. The case, you must know, is this: on the day of King Pietro's rejoicing for his accession, I fell so much in love on seeing him run his tilts, that it has brought me to what you see. Knowing, therefore, how ill-placed my love is on a king, and not being able to shake it off, or any way subdue it, I have resolved, seeing it is too grievous to be borne, to die. It is true, I shall die with great uneasiness, unless he knows it first; and as I have nobody that I can trust in this affair but yourself, I therefore commit it entirely to you, in hopes that you will not refuse me this service; and when you have done it, to let me know, so that, being disburdened, I may die with more ease and comfort." Minuccio was surprised both at the greatness of her soul, and her sad resolution; and, being grieved for her, he thought of a way whereby he might fairly do her service; so he said, " Madam, be assured I will never deceive you: I commend your loftiness of mind in having set your affections on so great a king, and I offer you my assistance, hoping that, before three days are expired, I shall bring you news that will be agreeable. To lose no time, then, I will go directly about it." She promised to comfort herself as well as she could, and wished him success. He consequently sent to one Mico da Siena, a tolerable poet in those days, who, at his request, composed the following 

SONG. 

CHORUS. 

Go, love, and to my lord declare 

The torment which for him I find; 

Go, say I die, whilst still my fear 

Forbids me to declare my mind. 

With hands uplifted, I thee pray, 

O love! that thou wouldst haste away, 

And gently to my lord impart 

The warmest wishes of my heart; 

Declare how great my sorrows seem, 

Which sighing, blushing, I endure for him. 

Go, love, etc. 

Why lacked I boldness to reveal, 

For once, the passion that I feel? 

To him for whom I grieve alone, 

The anguish of my heart make known? 

He might rejoice to hear my grief 

Awaits his single pleasure for relief. 

Go, love, etc. 

But if this my request be vain, 

Nor other means of help remain. 

Yet say, that when in armour bright 

He march'd, as if equipp'd for fight, 

Amidst his chiefs, that fatal day 

I saw, and gaz'd my very heart away. 

Go, love, etc. 

These words he set to a soft languishing air, as the subject required, and the third day he went to court, where the king was at dinner; and being ordered to give them a song, he sang this one, in such a gentle, sweet manner, that all the people in the room seemed converted to statues, so silently, so attentively did they stand to listen! But the king was more affected than any of the rest, and after Minuccio had made an end, he demanded why he had never heard that song before?" My lord," the other replied, "both the words and tune are not yet three days old." The king then inquiring whom it was they concerned, Minuccio replied, "That I can tell only to your majesty." The king being desirous of knowing it, went with him into the chamber, as soon as the cloth was taken away, when Minuccio related the whole affair, with which the king seemed greatly pleased, and desired him to go directly to Lisa, and assure her, on his part, that he would certainly visit her that evening. Minuccio, overjoyed to be the bearer of such news, went immediately with his violin, and after relating to her in private what had been done, he sang her the very song. From that time there appeared in her great signs of amendment, and, without any one having the least suspicion of it, she waited in full expectation of the evening when she should see her lord. 

The king, who was a gracious and good prince, having thought much of what Minuccio told him, felt more and more pity for the lady, being no stranger to her extraordinary beauty. So, getting on horseback in the evening, as if he was going to take a ride, he rode to this apothecary's house, and desired to see a fine garden that he had. There, after they had walked for some time together, the king inquired what was become of his daughter, and whether she was yet married? Bernardo replied, "My lord, she is not married; she has been indeed extremely ill, and is still so, though we think, that since nones she is wonderfully mended." The king knew what that amendment meant, and said, "In good truth, it would be a pity to lose such a pretty young lady; let us go and see her. So he went with two attendants only, and the father, into the chamber: and going to the bed-side, where Lisa sat propped up, and full of expectation of his coming, he took her by her hand, and said. Fair maid, how comes it that you are ill? You are young and should be a delight to others; then why will you suffer this illness to prey upon you? For my sake be comforted, and get well." The lady, feeling the touch of his hand, whom she loved beyond all the world, though she could not help blushing, thought herself in perfect paradise, and answered as well as she could: "My lord, by opposing my little strength to too heavy a burden, I have come to languish in this manner; but you will soon see an amendment." Only the king understood her covert way of speaking, and after he had stayed some time longer with her, and encouraged her as much as possible, he took his leave. This condescension of the king's was much commended, and thought a great honour both to the apothecary and his daughter, who was as much pleased with it as any other lady could be with her lover; and being cheered by better hopes, she became in a little time quite well, and more fair than ever. 

Some time after, the king, having consulted with the queen about it, went on horseback, on a day appointed, attended by many of his barons to the apothecary's house, and walking in the garden, sent for him and his daughter. Presently after the queen came with a great number of ladies, and after they had spent some time in diversion, the king and queen having called Lisa to them, he said, "Fair lady, your love for me has obtained you this favour, with which, for my sake, I beg you will be satisfied; what I mean is, to give you a husband, but still I would .preserve the character of your knight, without requesting anything in return but a kiss." She blushed, and replied with a low and humble voice: "My lord, were it to be publicly known that I had fixed my affection upon your majesty, I doubt not but I should be reckoned the greatest of fools, and unacquainted with my own meanness as much as with your grandeur. But God, who knows my heart, is my judge, that I then thought of you as a great king, and of myself as an apothecary's daughter, and was sensible how ill it became me to fix my love upon an object as infinitely above me. But your majesty knows, as well as myself, there is no choice in love; it is fancy only; I set my feeble strength against it, which was all I could do; so that I did, do still, and always shall, love you. But ever since I found myself captivated by you, I have thought it my duty to make your will my own; if, then, you would command anything else, I should certainly obey it. But for you, who are my king, to be called my knight, that it becomes me not to speak to, any more than the kiss which you require as the sole recompense of my love, without leave from our lady the queen. Nevertheless, for your great kindness towards me, as well as that of the queen, may Heaven shower down its choicest blessings upon you both; for my part, I am able to make no return." Here she was silent. The queen was pleased with the lady's reply, thinking her as prudent as the king had reported her. His majesty instantly called for her father and mother, and finding they approved of his intention, he sent for a young gentleman of small fortune, whose name was Perdicone, and caused him, not unwillingly, to espouse her; when, besides many jewels and other valuable presents given by them both, he bestowed Ceffalu and Calatabellotta, two very considerable estates, upon them, saying, "These I give by way of dowry with your wife; what I intend for yourself you shall see by and by." Then, turning to her, he said, "I must now receive 

the fruit that is due to me from your love;" and he just saluted her forehead. So the marriage was solemnized, to the great joy of her husband, father and mother; and many report that the king was very constant to his promise, for that, as long as he lived, he always styled himself her knight, and never carried any other token of favour upon his arms, but what she sent him. - Such actions as these gain the hearts of the people, serve as an example for others to imitate, and secure in the end an everlasting fame. But there are few now-a-days that trouble their heads about that, the greater part of our princes being rather cruel tyrants. 

10-6, King Charles the First

NOVEL VI. 

King Charles the First, sumamed the Victorious, being in love with a young lady, and ashamed afterwards of his folly, marries both her and her sister much to their advantage. 

It would be too long to recount the various disputes that arose amongst the company, whether Gilberto's generosity, or Ansaldo's, or, lastly, the necromancer's, with regard to Dianora, was the greatest. The king, after suffering the debate to continue awhile, ordered Fiammetta to put an end to it, and she began presently to this effect: - Ladies, I was always of opinion, that, in such company as ours, people should speak so fully as to leave no room for doubt concerning the meaning of anything that is advanced; for disputes more properly belong to students in the schools, than to us, who can scarcely manage our wheels and our distaffs. Therefore, seeing you have been already embroiled, I shall pass over something dubious which I was going to mention, and relate an affair of no insignificant person, but of a most mighty king, stating how he behaved with regard to his honour. 

You must all have heard of King Charles the Ancient, or the First, by whose glorious enterprise and great victory obtained over King Manfredi, the Ghibelline faction was driven out of Florence, and the Guelphs restored. On this account a certain knight, called Neri degli Uberti, departed with his whole family and a great store of wealth, meaning to pass the remainder of his life under the protection of no other king. Choosing a solitary place, with a design to end his days in quiet, he went to Castello da Mare, where he purchased a little estate, about a bow-shot from all other houses, amongst the olives aud chestnuts, with which that place abounds, and built a small convenient house upon it, by the side of which was a most delightful garden, and in the middle of that, according to our taste, as there was great command of water, he made a fine canal, storing it well with fish. His whole delight being now to cultivate and embellish his garden, it happened that King Charles came during the summer to amuse himself at Castello da Mare for a few days; when, hearing of Neri's fine garden, he had a great desire to see it; and considering that he was of the adverse party, he resolved to use the more familiarity towards him; so he sent him word, that he and four friends would come and sup with him the next evening in his garden. This was an agreeable message to Signor Neri, who made the finest preparations in his power for the entertainment of his royal guest. The king highly commended both the house and garden; and the table being spread by the side of the canal, he sat down, ordering Count Guido di Monforte, who was amongst his attendants, to sit on one side, and Signor Neri on the other, and as for the remaining three, they sat as they were placed by Signor Neri. 

Supper was now served up in the most delicate order, with the best and richest wine, greatly to the king's liking; and whilst he was eating, with great admiration of the beauty of the place, two young damsels, of about fifteen years of age, entered the garden, with their hair, like golden wire, most curiously curied, and garlands of flowers upon their heads, whilst their mien and deportment bespoke them rather angels than mortal creatures. Their garments, which were of fine linen cloth, as white as snow, were girt round their waists, and hung thence in large folds to their feet; she that came first had two fishing-nets, which she carried in her left hand upon her shoulder, and in her right was a long stick: the other followed with a frying-pan upon her left shoulder, a faggot of wood under the arm, a trevet in one hand, and in the other hand a bottle of oil and a lighted torch. 

The king was greatly surprised at this spectacle, and waited attentively to see what it meant. The damsels being come before him« made their obeisance in the humblest and most modest manner; and at the entrance of the pond, she that had the pan, with the other things, laid them down upon the ground, and taking up the stick which the other carried, they both stepped into the canal, the water of which came up to their breasts. A servant immediately kindled a fire, and laying the pan upon the trevet, and putting oil therein, he began to watch till the damsels should throw him some fish. So one of them beating the places where the fish lay, and the other holding the net, they soon caught fish enough, to the great diversion of the king; and as they were threwing them to the servant, who put them alive as it were into the pan, they cast some of the finest, as they had been before instructed, upon the table before the king, Count Guido, and their father. The king was highly delighted with seeing the fish jump about, and he tossed them back in pleasantry to the fair fishers; and so they diverted themselves, till the servant had fried those he had in his pan, which were set before the king by Signor Neri's order, more as a curiosity than anything nice and dainty. The damsels, thinking they had now done enough, came out of the water, with their garments clinging about them, in such a manner as perfectly to exhibit every lineament of their forms, and modestly saluting the king as before, they returned into the house. The king, with the count and the gentlemen that attended, were much taken with their extraordinary beauty and modest behaviour: the king especially was perfectly lost in admiration, and finding a secret passion stealing upon him, without knowing which to prefer, they were so exactly alike, he turned to Signor Neri, and asked who those two damsels were? 

"My lord," he replied, "they are my daughters, born both at a birth, one of whom is called Ginevra the Pretty, and the other Isotta the Fair." The king commended them very much, and advised him to marry them; but Signor Neri excused himself, alleging that he was not in circumstances to do it. 

Nothing now remained to be served up but the dessert, when the two ladies came attired in rich satin, with two silver dishes in their hands, full of all manner of fruit, which they set before the king; and retiring afterwards to some distance, they sang a song, beginning with. 

Thy power, O love, who can resist? etc. 

They sang with such exquisite sweetness, that it seemed to the king as if choirs of angels were descended from heaven for his entertainment. The song being ended, they fell upon their knees before him, to take their leave, which the king graciously accorded, though he was secretly grieved at their departure. When supper was concluded, the king, with his attendants, mounted their horses, and returned to the palace, where, being unable to forego the love that he had conceived for Ginevra, for whose sake he also loved her sister, who exactly resembled her, he grew so uneasy that he could think of nothing else. He therefore cultivated, under other pretences, a close intimacy with the father, and used frequently to visit him at his garden, in order to see Ginevra. 

At last, unable to contain his passion any longer, and seeing he could think of no better way, he resolved to take from Neri not one daughter only, but both, by force; and he signified his intention to the Count Guido, who, being a nobleman of strict honour, said: "My liege, I am greatly surprised at what you now say, and more perhaps than any other person would be, since I have known you better, even from your infancy; and as I never remember any such thing of you in your youth, when love has the greatest power over us, it seems now so strange, that I can scarcely give credit to it. Did it become me to reprove you, I know very well what I might say, considering that you are yet in arras in a kingdom newly conquered, amongst a people not known to you, abounding with treachery and deceit, and that you have many great and weighty affairs upon your hands; yet you can sit down at ease in such circumstances, and give way to such an idle passion as love. This is not like a great king, so much as an inglorious stripling. And, what is worse, you say you are resolved to take his two daughters away from a poor gentleman, who had them to wait upon you out of his abundant respect, as well as to show his great confidence in you, believing you to be a generous prince, and not a rapacious wolf. Have you so soon forgotten that it was Manfredi's taking the same liberties which opened your way to this kingdom? Can there be a baser crime than to take away from one who honours you, his honour, his hope, his entire comfort? What will people say in such a case? Do you think it any excuse that he is of a different party? Is this kingly justice, to treat people in that manner, be they of what party they will, who throw themselves under your protection? It was great glory to conquer Manfredi, but let me tell you, it will be much greater to conquer yourself. You, therefore, who are ordained to correct vice in others, learn to subdue your own; curb that unruly appetite, nor stain with so foul a blot the character you have so gloriously acquired." 

These words touched the king to the quick, and so much the more as he knew them to be true; he sighed, therefore, and said, "Count, I hold the conquest of an enemy, however formidable, to be an easy thing compared to a victory over one's own passion; but, be the difficulty ever so great, such is the force of your words, that before many days are past I will convince you, that if I know how to conquer others, I am able also to withstand myself." So he went to Naples soon after, when, to put it out of his power to do a base thing, as well as to reward the knight for his generosity, he resolved, however grating it seemed, to give another the possession of that which he himself coveted, and to marry both the ladies, not as Signor Neri's daughters, but his own. Bestowing, then, large fortunes upon them, he gave Ginevra the Pretty to Signor Maffeo da Palizzi, and Isotta the Fair to Signor Guilielmo della Magna, both worthy knights. Having done this, he retired to Puglia, where, with great pains and trouble, he got the better at last of his passion, and lived with ease and quiet ever after. 

Now some people, perhaps, may say, that it is a small thing for a king to bestow two ladies in marriage. I allow it: but for a king to give away the very lady that he himself was in love with, and without plucking the least bud, flower, or fruit of his love, that I will maintain to be great indeed. - Such, then, were the virtues of this most generous king, rewarding the courtesy of a noble knight, showing a great and proper regard to his beloved fair one, and subduing his own desires with strict resolution and honour. 

10-5, Dianora, Ansaldo, garden, January

NOVEL V. 

Dianora requires Ansaldo to present her with a garden in January as beautiful as in May. He engages a necromancer to do it. Her husband, upon this, gives her leave to keep her word with Ansaldo, who hearing of her husband's generosity, acquits her of her promise, and the necromancer likewise takes nothing for his trouble. 

Signor Gentil having been extolled to the very skies by the whole assembly, the king ordered Emilia to follow; and immediately, as though she were desirous of speaking, she began in this manner: - There is no one but must allow that Signor Gentil did a very noble action, but to say that nothing greater could be done, is saying too much, as I shall show in a very short novel. 

In the country of Frioli, which, though very cold, is yet beautified with many pleasant mountains, fine rivers and crystal springs, is a place called Udine, where lived a worthy lady, named Dianora, the wife of a very agreeable man, and one of great wealth, called Gilberto. Now she had taken the fancy of a great and noble lord, called Ansaldo, one of extraordinary generosity and prowess, and known all over the country, who used frequently to solicit her with messages and offers of love, but in vain. At length, being quite wearied with his importunities, and seeing that he still persisted, notwithstanding her repeated denials, she resolved to rid herself of him by a novel, and, as she thought, impossible demand. So she said to his emissary one day, "Good woman, you have often told me that Ansaldo loves me beyond all the world, and have offered me great presents on his part, which he may keep to himself, for I shall never be prevailed upon to a compliance in that manner. Could I be assured, indeed, that his love is really such as you say, then I should certainly be brought to return it: therefore, if he will convince me of that by a proof which I shall require, I will instantly be at his service." - "What is it, then," quoth the good woman, "that you desire him to do." - "It is this," she replied: "I would have a garden in the month of January, which is now coming on, as full of green herbs, flowers, and trees laden with fruit, as though it were the month of May: unless he does this for me, charge him to trouble me no more, for I will instantly complain to my husband, and all my friends." 

Ansaldo being made acquainted with this demand, which seemed an impossibility, and knowing that it was contrived on purpose to deprive him of all hopes of success, resolved yet to try all possible means in such a case, sending to every part of the world to find out a person able to assist him. At length he met with a magician, who would undertake it for a large sum of money; and having agreed upon a price, he waited impatiently for the time of its being done. On the night of the first of January, therefore, the cold being extreme, and everything covered with snow, this wise man so employed his art in a meadow near to the city, that in the morning there appeared there one of the finest gardens that ever was seen, filled with all kinds of herbs, flowers, trees, and fruits. Ansaldo beheld this marvellous creation with infinite pleasure, and picking some of the fairest fruit and flowers, he sent them privately to the lady, inviting her to come and see the garden which she had required, that she might be convinced of his love and fulfil the promise she had made, as became a woman of her word. The lady, seeing the flowers and fruits present, and having already heard from many people of this wonderful garden, began to repent of what she had done. But with all this repentance, being still desirous of seeing strange sights, she went thither with many more ladies, and having highly commended it, returned home very sorrowful, thinking of her engagement. Her trouble was too great to be concealed or dissembled, so that her husband at last perceived it, and demanded the reason. For some time she was ashamed to speak, but being constrained at last, she related the whole thing. Gilberto was greatly incensed about it, till, considering the upright intention of his lady in the affair, he began to be somewhat pacified, and said, "Dianora, it is not the act of a wise and virtuous lady to receive any messages, or make any conditions in regard to her chastity. Words have a more ready admittance to the heart than many people imagine, and with lovers nothing is impossible. You were highly to blame first to listen, and afterwards to covenant; but, as I know the purity of your intention, and to free you from your engagement, I will grant what nobody else would do in such a case. For fear of this necromancer, who, by Ansaldo's instigation, may do us some mischief if you disappoint him, I consent that you go to Ansaldo, and if you can by any means get quit of that tie with safety to your honour, that you endeavour to do so; otherwise that you comply indeed, though your will be chaste and pure." The poor lady wept bitterly, and showed great reluctance, but he insisted upon her doing as he said. So, early in the morning, without any great care to make herself fine, she went with her woman and two men-servants to Ansaldo's house. He was greatly surprised at hearing the lady was there, and said to the wise man, "You shall now see the effect of your skill. So he went to meet her, and showed her into a handsome room, where there was a great fire, and after they had sat down, "Madam," he said, "I beg, if the long regard I have had for you merit any reward, that you would please to tell me why you come here at this time, and thus attended." She blushed, and replied, with eyes full of tears, "sir, it is neither from love, nor from regard to my promise, but merely by my husband's order, who, showing more respect to the labours of your inordinate love than to his honour and mine, has forced me to come hither; therefore, as it is his command, I submit to your pleasure." If Ansaldo was surprised at the sight of the lady, he was now much more so at hearing her talk thus; and, being moved with Gilberto's generosity, his love was changed into compassion. "Madam," he said, "Heaven forbid that I should ever take away the honour of a person who has showed such pity for my love: therefore, you are as safe with me, as if you were my sister, and you may depart, when it seems good to you, upon condition that you tender your husband, in my name, those thanks which you think are due to his great generosity, requesting him, for the time to come, to esteem me always as his brother and faithful servant." The lady, overjoyed with this, replied, "All the world, sir, could never make me believe, when I consider your character, that anything could have happened on my coming hither, otherwise that it has now done; for which I shall always be profoundly grateful to you." She then took her leave, returned to her husband, and told him what had happened, and this proved the occasion of a strict friendship ever after between him and Ansaldo. 

The necromancer now being about to receive his reward, and having observed Gilberto's generosity to Ansaldo, and that of Ansaldo to the lady, said, "As Gilberto has been so liberal of his honour, and you of your love, you shall give me leave to be the same with regard to my pay: knowing it then to be worthily employed, I design it shall be yours." 

Ansaldo was ashamed, and pressed him to take all or part, but in vain. On the third day, the necromancer having made his garden vanish, and being ready to depart, Ansaldo thankfully dismissed him, having extinguished his inordinate desires, purely from a principle of honour. What say you now, ladies? Shall we prefer the dead lady, and the love of Gentil, grown cold, as destitute of all hope, to the liberality of Ansaldo, who loved more than ever, and who was fired with the greater expectation, since the prey so long pursued was then in his power? It seems to me mere folly to compare the generosity of Gentil with that of Ansaldo. 

[Manni observes, that this novel was probably founded on a story current in the age of Boccaccio (and subsequently mentioned by Torthemus), concerning a Jew physician, who, in the year 876, in the middle of winter, caused by enchantment a garden, with trees and flowers in bloom, to appear before a numerous and splendid company. The story, however, of Dianora, as well as the fourth of the present day, had formerly been told by Boccaccio himself, in the fifth book of his "Filocopo," which is an account of the loves of Flores and Biancafior. This story of Boccaccio is the origin of the "Frankelein's Tale," of Chaucer, in which the circumstances are precisely the same as in the "Decameron," except that the impossible thing required by the lady is, that her lover should remove the rocks from the coast of Brittany: a similar tale, however, according to Tyrwhitt, occurs in an old Breton lay, from which he conceives the incidents may have come immediately to the English poet. Boccaccio's story is unquestionably the origin of a story which occupies the whole of the twelfth canto of "Orlando Innamorato," and is related by a lady to Rinaldo, while he escorts her on a journey.]