The Tale of Tales

by Giambattista Basile

  7

  THE DOVE*

  Seventh Entertainment of the Second Day

  Because of an evil spell cast on him by an old woman, a prince undergoes many hardships, which are made even worse by the curse of an ogress. Finally, due to the industry of the ogress’s daughter he overcomes all dangers, and they marry.

  When this tale of Antonella’s had reached its “z”1 and had been vociferously praised for being lovely and charming as well as a wonderful example for a girl of honor, Ciulla, whose lot it was to continue the tale-telling, spoke in this manner: “He who is born a prince must not behave like a scoundrel. A great man must not give a bad example to those beneath him, for it is from the big ass that the little one learns to eat straw. Otherwise, it’s no wonder if the heavens send him misfortunes by the bushelful, like what happened to a prince who had a gadfly2 up his ass and made trouble for a poor little woman, on account of which he came close to losing his life in disastrous fashion.

  “There once was, eight miles outside of Naples in the direction of the Astroni, a wood of fig trees and poplars where the Sun’s arrows struck but were not able to penetrate. In this wood there was a little, half-ruined house inhabited by an old woman who was as unburdened with teeth as she was laden by years, and whose hump was as high as her fortunes were low. She had a thousand wrinkles on her face but not a single one in her purse, and although her head was laden with silver she couldn’t find half a penny3 to restore her spirits, and she was always going around to the huts in the area, begging for some charity to keep her alive.

  “Nowadays, however, people would more willingly give a fat bag of coins to a greedy spy than three measly coins to a needy pauper, and so she labored for an entire threshing season just to get a bowl of beans, at a time when there was such abundance in those parts that there were few houses that did not have bushels of them. But ‘An old cauldron has either dents or holes,’ and ‘God sends flies to a scrawny horse,’ and ‘A fallen tree gets a nice hatchet job.’ And when the poor old woman had come back with the beans she cleaned them, threw them into a pot, put the pot on the windowsill, and then went to the woods to look for a few little sticks so that she could cook them. But between the time she left and returned Nardo Aniello, the son of the king, came passing by those parts on his way to the hunt. Seeing the pot on the windowsill, he got the urge to take a nice shot, and he made a bet with his servants as to who could aim the straightest, and hit it smack in the middle with a rock. They thus began to bombard that innocent pot, and after three or four throws the prince hit the bull’s-eye and smashed it to pieces.

  “By the time the old woman got back they had left, and when she found that cruel disaster she began to do terrible things and to yell, ‘Tell the Foggia billy goat4 that butted horns with this pot that he can flex his muscles and go bragging! That son of a witch has dug a ditch for his own flesh; that lout of a dirty peasant has sowed my beans in the wrong season! Even if he didn’t have a drop of compassion for my misery, he should have had some respect for his own interests and not thrown the coat of arms of his own house to the ground, nor caused what is kept on the head to end up underfoot. But go on! I pray to the heavens with my knees bared5 and with all my heart that he may fall in love with the daughter of some ogress who will make him boil and cook in the worst way, and that his mother-in-law may whip him so badly that he sees that he is alive but cries to be dead and that, when he finds himself tethered by the daughter’s beauties and the mother’s enchantments, he may never be able to pack his bags but always, even if he should croak, be subject to the torments of that ugly harpy. And may she order him to do anything she wants and send him his bread on a crossbow,6 so that he sighs more than a few times over those beans of mine that he threw away.’

  “The old woman’s curses put on wings and immediately rose to the sky so that, although the proverbs say, ‘You can sow a woman’s curses in your asshole’ and ‘A cursed horse’s coat shines,’ they nonetheless hit the prince right between the eyes and almost caused him to lose his hide. For before two hours had gone by he was separated from the rest of his men and lost his way in the woods, where he encountered a most beautiful girl who was walking around gathering snails and saying, to amuse herself, ‘Come out, come out, horns, or mommy will break them off! She’ll break them off on the terrace, and then have a baby boy!’7 When the prince saw before him this writing desk full of Nature’s most precious possessions, this bank of the heavens’ richest deposits, and this arsenal of Love’s most almighty forces, he did not know what had happened to him, and the rays of her eyes, passing through that round crystal face until they reached the bait of his heart, lit him up to such a degree that he became a furnace that fired the stones of the plans for the construction of the house of his hopes.

  “Filadoro, for that was the young lady’s name, did not waste her time peeling medlars. The prince was a nice hunk of a young man, and her heart was immediately pierced through and through, so that each of them used their eyes to beg the other for mercy, and even if their tongues had the pip, their gazes were trumpets of the Vicaria crier8 that rendered public the secrets of their souls. And when both one and the other had stood there for a long time with sand in their gullets, unable to squeeze out one accursed word, at last the prince, unclogging the pipe of his voice, spoke to her in this manner: ‘In which meadow has this flower of beauty blossomed? From which sky has this dew of grace rained? From which mine has this treasure of beauteous things come? O happy forests, O fortunate woods, inhabited by this magnificence, illuminated by this light display9 of Love’s festivities! O woods and forests, where not handles for brooms are cut, nor crossbeams for gallows, nor lids for chamber pots, but doors for the temple of beauty, rafters for the house of the Graces, and shafts from which to make Love’s arrows!’

  “‘Keep your hands down, my dear knight,’ answered Filadoro, ‘you’re far too kind, for the epitaph of praise that you have given me refers to your virtues and not my merits. I am a woman who knows how to take her own measure, and I do not need others to serve as my ruler. But whatever I am, beautiful or ugly, dark or light, disfigured or stocky, quick or lazy, a grouper fish or a fairy, a little doll or a swollen toad, I’m entirely at your command. This lovely cut of a man has filleted my heart; this handsome face of a lord has run me through from back to front; and I give myself to you like a little slave girl in chains,10 now and forever after.’

  “These were not words, but the blast of a trumpet that called the prince with a ‘Dinner’s ready!’ to the table of amorous delights; indeed, words that roused him with an ‘Everyone on your horses!’ to the battle of Love. And seeing himself given a finger of tenderness, he took the whole hand, and kissed the ivory hook that had snagged his heart. At this princely ceremony Filadoro put on the face of a marquise;11 indeed, she put on a face like a painter’s palette, where you could see a blend of the minium of embarrassment, the cerise of fear, the verdigris of hope, and the cinnabar of desire.

  “But right when Nardo Aniello was intending to continue in this fashion, his words were cut off, since in this wretched life there is no wine of satisfaction without the dregs of disappointment, and no rich broth of happiness without the foam of misfortune. For just as he was at the best part there suddenly appeared Filadoro’s mother, an ogress so ugly that Nature had fashioned her as a model for all monstrosity. Her hair was like a broom made of dry branches, not to sweep dust and cobwebs from houses but to blacken and smoke out hearts; her forehead was made of Genoese stone, to whet the knife of fear that rips open chests; her eyes were comets that predicted shaky legs, wormy hearts, frozen spirits, diarrhea of the soul, and evacuation of the intestines, for she wore terror on her face, fear in her gaze, thunder in her footsteps, and dysentery in her words. Her mouth was tusked like a pig’s and as big as a scorpion fish’s, twisted like those who suffer from convulsions, and as drooly as a mule’s. In short, from head to toe you saw a distillate of ugliness and a hospital of
deformities, so that if the prince didn’t breathe his last at that sight, he must certainly have been carrying a story of Marco and Fiorella12 sewn in his jacket.

  “The ogress grabbed Nardo Aniello’s doublet and said, ‘Hands up! Police! Birdy, birdy, sleeve of iron!’13 ‘Be my witnesses!’14 answered the prince. ‘Back off, scoundrel!’ and he was about to lay hand on his sword, which was an old she-wolf,15 when instead he ended up like a sheep that has just seen a wolf: he could neither move nor utter a peep. In this state he was dragged like an ass by its halter to the ogress’s house, where, as soon as they arrived, she said to him, ‘Take good care to work like a dog, if you don’t want to die like a pig. For your first job, make sure that the plot of land16 outside this room is hoed and planted by the end of the day, and mind you, if I come back this evening and don’t find the work done, I’ll eat you right up!’ And after she told her daughter to take care of the house, she left to visit with the other ogresses in the wood.

  “When he saw himself reduced to this awful situation Nardo Aniello’s chest began to flood with tears, and he cursed the ill fortune that had dragged him to this treacherous passage. Filadoro, on the other hand, comforted him and told him that he needed to keep his spirits up, for she would give her own blood to help him, and that he shouldn’t say that it was wicked fate that had led him to that house, where he was so passionately loved by her, and that he was showing very little reciprocation of her love by being so desperate about what had happened to him. To which the prince answered, ‘I don’t mind that I’ve gotten off the horse and onto the ass, nor that I’ve traded a royal palace for this hole, sumptuously laid tables for a crust of bread, a court of servants for having to serve up piecework, a scepter for a hoe, terrifying armies with seeing myself terrified by an ugly skunk; I consider all my misfortunes luck if I am here and able to gaze at you with these eyes. But what pierces my heart is that I must use a hoe and spit in my hands a hundred times, whereas before I didn’t deign to spit on a boil. And even worse, I have so much to do that a whole day with a pair of oxen wouldn’t be enough, and if I don’t get this dirty business done by tonight I’ll be gobbled up by your mother, and I won’t suffer as much for having to tear myself away from this wretched body as I will for having to separate myself from your lovely person!’ As he said this he sent forth sobs by the basketful and tears by the quintal.

  “Testemmonia vosta!” . . . ma restaie comm’a na pecora quanno ha visto lo lupo. [“Be my witnesses!” . . . when instead he ended up like a sheep that has just seen a wolf.]

  “But Filadoro, drying his eyes, said, ‘Do not believe, my dear heart, that you have any land to work other than the garden of Love; nor should you fear that my mother will touch even one hair on your body. There’s no need to doubt, for you have Filadoro: in case you don’t know, I’m enchanted; I can make water curdle and the sun grow dark. But that’s enough; that will do! Be happy, for by this evening the land will be hoed and planted without your having to lift a finger.’ When Nardo Aniello heard this he said, ‘If you’re a fairy, as you say you are, O beauty of the world, why don’t we vacate this town, since I want to keep you like a queen at my father’s house?’ And Filadoro answered, ‘A certain conjunction of the stars is an obstacle to this game, but the influence will pass shortly and then we shall be happy.’

  “The day went by in these and a thousand other sweet discussions, and when the ogress came back home she called her daughter from the road, saying, ‘Filadoro, let down your hair,’ since the house didn’t have stairs and she always went up on her daughter’s locks. When Filadoro heard her mother’s voice she shook out her hair and lowered it, making a ladder of gold for a heart of iron. After climbing up the ogress immediately ran to the garden, and when she found it tended to, she nearly jumped out of her clothes with amazement, as it seemed impossible to her that a delicate young man could have done this dog’s labor.

  “But no sooner had the Sun come out the next morning to hang itself out to dry after catching the damp in the river of India17 than the old woman went out again, leaving Nardo Aniello the message that by evening he was to split six piles of logs that were in a big room into four pieces each, or else she would mince him up like lard and make spiced meat18 of him for their meal that evening. When the poor prince heard the injunction of this decree he was about to die of agony, and Filadoro, seeing him pale and listless, said to him, ‘What a pants shitter you are! Bless the new year! You’d shit at the sight of your own shadow!’ ‘What, it seems like nothing to you,’ answered Nardo Aniello, ‘to have to split six piles of logs into four pieces each between now and this evening? Alas, before that happens I myself will be split in half so that I can fit into that wretched old woman’s gullet!’ ‘Don’t worry,’ replied Filadoro, ‘the wood will find itself all nice and split without a bit of effort on your part; but in the meantime be a little more pleasant and don’t split this soul of mine with so much complaining.’

  “But when the Sun closed the shop of its rays so that it wouldn’t have to sell light to the shadows, the old woman came back, and after asking for the usual ladder to be lowered, she climbed up, and when she found the wood split she began to suspect that her daughter had checkmated her. And on the third day, for the third test she told him to clean out a cistern that contained a thousand barrels of water because she wanted to fill it up again, and to make sure it was done by evening or else she would make escabeche19 or stew out of him.

  “When the old woman had left, Nardo Aniello started moaning again and Filadoro, seeing that his labor pains were growing evermore frequent and that the old woman was an ass to want to load the poor man with so many troubles and hardships, said to him, ‘Be quiet; the conjunction of the stars that had kept my art sequestered is past, and we’re going to say “take care” to this house before the Sun says “I take my leave of you.”20 Enough said; by evening my mother will find this town deserted, and I intend to come with you dead or alive.’ When he heard this news the prince simmered down, whereas he had been about to croak, and, embracing Filadoro, said, ‘You are the north wind of this troubled boat, my soul; you are the bastion of my hopes!’

  “It was almost evening by then, and Filadoro dug a hole under the garden, where there ran a big tunnel, and they left, heading in the direction of Naples. But as soon as they arrived at the Pozzuoli grotto,21 Nardo Aniello said to Filadoro, ‘My darling, it’s not a good idea to have you come to the palace on foot and dressed that way. Wait in this inn, and I’ll be back right away with horses, carriages, servants, clothes, and other nice trifles.’ And so while Filadoro stayed there he headed for the city. In the meantime the ogress returned home, and when Filadoro didn’t answer the usual calls she became suspicious and ran to the woods, where she cut a long pole that she leaned against the window, and, scrambling up like a cat, she climbed into the house. She looked everywhere, inside and outside, upstairs and downstairs, and when she found no one she noticed the hole; after she saw that it led to the square, she left not a single tuft of hair on her head, cursing her daughter and the prince and praying to the heavens that at the first kiss her daughter’s lover received he would forget her.

  “But let’s leave the old woman to her savage paternosters and go back to the prince. After he arrived at the palace, where he was supposed dead, the whole house was thrown into a state of commotion, with everyone rushing to see him and saying, ‘It’s about time; welcome back! Here he is, safe and sound! How handsome you look now that you’re back in these parts!’ and a thousand other loving words. He went upstairs and met his mother halfway there, and she hugged him and kissed him, saying, ‘My son, my jewel, pupil of my eye; oh, where have you been? Why did you take so long, and make us all suffer so?’ The prince didn’t know what to answer, and he would have told of his misadventures, but no sooner had his mother kissed him with her lips of poppy than, because of the ogress’s curse, everything that had happened to him left his memory. And then the queen went on to sa
y that in order to eliminate the cause for hunting and consuming his life in the woods, she intended to marry him off, and the prince responded, ‘And it won’t be soon enough! Here I am, ready and waiting to do everything that my lady mother desires.’ ‘That’s how blessed children act,’ replied the queen. And so they agreed that in four days’ time they would bring the bride to the house; she was a lady of great nobility who had come to that city from the parts of Flanders.

  “And hence they ordered grand festivities and banquets. But meanwhile, Filadoro saw that her husband was taking too long, and her ears started buzzing—I don’t know how—with the news of the festivities that everyone was talking about. And one evening, after she made sure that she had seen the innkeeper’s errand boy go to bed, she took his clothes from the head of his mattress and left her own there. Thus disguised as a man she went off to the king’s court, where the cooks, who were in need of help because of all they had to do, took her on as a scullery boy.

  “The morning of the event arrived—when, on the counter of the sky, the Sun displayed its privileges, granted by Nature and sealed by light, and sold secrets to sharpen the eyes22—and the bride arrived to the sound of shawms and cornets. The table was set and everyone seated, and the food began to come out thick and fast, and as the steward was cutting a large English pie23 that Filadoro had made with her own hands, out flew a dove so beautiful that the guests forgot about eating and gazed with wonder at this beauteous thing. And with the most pitiful voice in the world it said to the prince, ‘Have you eaten cat’s brain,24 O prince, that has made you forget in word and deed Filadoro’s affection? This is how the services you received have left your memory, O thankless one? This is how you pay back the favors that she did for you, O ingrate? Saving you from the ogress’s clutches? Giving you her life and all of herself? Is this the compensation you give to that unlucky girl for the passionate love she showed you? You tell her to turn around and get out of here; you tell her to gnaw on a bone until the roast comes! Oh, wretched is the woman that lets herself be impregnated by the words of men, who always accompany their words with ingratitude, their favors with thanklessness, and their debts with forgetfulness! There you have it, the poor thing imagined she would be making pizza with you according to the rules of Donatus,25 and now she finds herself playing cut-the-cake; she believed she would be doing “close the ranks” with you, and now you’re yelling, “Escape, escape”!26 She thought she would be able to break a glass with you, and now she’s broken the chamber pot! Go on, never you mind, deadbeat-face, for if the heartfelt curses that this wretched soul is sending you hit their target, you’ll realize how much it costs to trick a little girl, to dupe a young lady, and to hoodwink a poor innocent by taking a dirty shot at her,27 wearing her on your back cover while she wore you on her frontispiece, putting her under your tailbone while she carried you on her head, and while she gave you her complete servitude keeping her where enemas are served! But if the heavens have not put on a blindfold and if the gods have not plugged their ears, they’ll see the wrong you have done her and, when you least expect it, you’ll get the holiday and its eve, thunder and lightning, fever and diarrhea! But enough said. Take care to eat well; amuse yourself as you will; wallow and triumph with the new bride; and poor Filadoro, as she spins her thin threads of grief, will break the thread of her life and leave the field open for you to enjoy your new wife.’ Having said these words she flew out the window and the wind bore her away.