The listeners had been so transported by Belluccia’s adventures that when they saw her married they were as happy and jubilant as if she had been born from their own loins. But the desire to hear Ciulla gave pause to their applause, and their ears hung upon the movement of her lips, which spoke in this manner: “I once heard it said that Juno, in her search for lies, went to Candia.1 But if I were asked where one could really find feigning and fraud, I could indicate no better place than the court, where everyone dons a mask, and where Trastullo’s gossip, Graziano’s backbiting, Zanni’s betrayals, and Pulcinella’s2 roguery thrive, where at one and the same time people snip and sew, sting and salve, break and glue. And I’ll show you just a scrap of all of this in the tale that you’re about to hear.
“There once was, in the service of the king of Wide River, a most respectable young man named Corvetto. His admirable behavior had earned him a place in his master’s heart, and for this reason he inspired hate and nausea in all of the king’s courtiers, who were bats of ignorance and thus incapable of beholding the shining virtue of Corvetto, who with the cash of his good actions bought the grace of his master. Indeed, the breezes of favor that the king blew on him were siroccos to the hernias of those envy-bitten souls, who did nothing but gather in every corner of the palace at all hours to murmur, gossip, whisper, gripe, and cut the poor man to pieces, saying, ‘What sort of spell has this muttonhead cast on the king, who loves him so dearly? What kind of luck does he have that not even a day goes by without his receiving some new favor, while we are ever going backward, like rope makers, moving down to lower and lower rungs? And yet we serve him like dogs, and yet we sweat like fieldworkers and run like deer to make certain that the king’s every fancy is perfectly satisfied! How true it is that in this world you’ve got to be born lucky, and that if you lack good fortune you might as well throw yourself in the sea! At the end all you can do is watch it all and drop dead!’
“These and other words shot out of the bows of their mouths, and they were poisoned arrows directed at the target of Corvetto’s ruin. Oh, hapless is he who is condemned to live in that hell that goes by the name of court, where flattery is sold by the basket, malice and bad services measured by the quintal, and deceit and betrayal weighed by the bushel! And who can say how many melon rinds were put under his feet to make him slip?3 Who can describe the soap of falsehood used to lubricate the steps to the king’s ears so that Corvetto would tumble down and break his neck? Who can tell of the ditches of deceit dug in his master’s brain and then covered with the light branches of zeal so that he would fall in?
“But Corvetto was enchanted, and he took notice of the traps and uncovered the treachery and recognized the fraud and sensed the intrigue, ambushes, mousetraps, snares, plotting, and tricks of his enemies. He always kept his ears pricked up and his eyes wide open so as not to lose his thread, for he knew that the courtier’s fortune is made of glass. But the more this young man continued to rise, the steeper the others’ descent and the more evident their writhing grew until finally, not knowing how to get him out from under their feet, since when they talked badly of him they were not believed, they decided to throw him off a cliff along the road of praise (an art invented in hell and perfected in court). And they attempted this in the manner that follows.
“Ten miles from Scotland, where this king’s realm lay, there lived an ogre, the most ferocious and wild one that had ever existed in Ogredom. Since he was persecuted by the king, he had built a fortress for himself on top of a mountain in a solitary wood where not even birds flew, a wood so intricate that it never received the visit of the sun. This ogre had a splendid horse that was as pretty as a picture, and among its other merits it lacked not even the power of speech, since it was enchanted and could talk like the rest of us. Now the courtiers, who knew how wicked the ogre was, how harsh the wood was, how high the mountain was, and how difficult it was to reach this horse, went to the king and described to him in minute detail the perfection of the animal, telling him that it was fit for a king and that he should try in every way and by every means to deliver it from the ogre’s claws, and that Corvetto would be the right one to put his hand to it, since he was a talented young man who could pass through fire. The king, who did not know that under the flower of those words lay a serpent, called Corvetto at once and said to him, ‘If you love me, you must attempt in every way possible to obtain my enemy the ogre’s horse, and you will find yourself happy beyond measure and glad to have done this service for me.’
“Although he realized that this drum was being beaten by those who wished him evil, Corvetto nevertheless obeyed the king and set out on the road to the mountain. After silently entering the ogre’s stable he saddled the horse, jumped onto its back with his feet firmly in the stirrups, and started toward the door. But when the horse saw that it was being spurred out of the palace, it shouted, ‘Look out, Corvetto’s taking me away!’ At the sound of this the ogre came out, together with all the animals that served him: over here was a bogey cat, over there a prince’s bear, on this side a lion, on that side a werewolf, and all of them ready to butcher Corvetto to pieces. But the youth cracked his whip well and was able to distance himself from the mountain and proceed at a gallop toward the city. When he arrived at court he presented the horse to the king and was embraced more warmly than a son, after which the king got out a bag and filled Corvetto’s hands with coins.
“And so a good dose of starch was added to the courtiers’ suit of rage, and whereas before they had blown up as if inflated by a straw, they now exploded like the blast of a bellows when they saw that the picks with which they had planned to demolish Corvetto’s good luck were being used to clear the way to his advantage. Still, knowing that a wall is not brought down the first time it’s hit by a war machine, they decided on a second attempt, and said to the king, ‘That lovely horse, which will truly be the honor of the royal stable, is most welcome here. Now if you only had the ogre’s tapestries, which are a thing of unspeakable beauty, your fame could become the talk of the fairs. And there’s no one who would be able to add these riches to your treasure better than Corvetto, who has an expert hand when it comes to this sort of job.’ The king, who danced to every music and ate only the skin of those bitter but sugar-covered fruits, called Corvetto and begged him to get the ogre’s tapestries for him.
“Not replying a word, in the wink of an eye Corvetto was back at the ogre’s mountain. Unseen he entered the room where the ogre was sleeping, hid himself under the bed, and waited there, crouching, until Night, to make the stars laugh, wrote a Carnival book4 on the face of the sky. When the ogre and his wife had gone to bed, he cleaned out the room in perfect silence and, wanting to take the coverlet off the bed, too, he started to pull on it, very slowly. But the ogre woke up and told his wife not to pull so hard because she was uncovering him and he’d get a bellyache. ‘Actually, you’re the one who’s uncovering me,’ answered the ogress. ‘I’ve got nothing left on me!’ ‘Where the devil is the blanket?’ replied the ogre, and putting his hand on the floor, he touched Corvetto’s face and began to shout, ‘An imp, an imp!5 Help, bring candles, hurry!’ At the sound of those screams the entire household was pitched into a state of turmoil. But Corvetto, who had thrown the pieces of cloth out the window, dropped down on top of them and, after making a nice bundle, headed off in the direction of the city. And no one can describe the caresses bestowed on him by the king and the burns suffered by the courtiers, who were bursting their sides with rage.
“They thus decided to attack Corvetto with the rearguard of roguery, and when they found the king all agurgle with pleasure over the tapestries—which, apart from being of silk and embroidered with gold, were decorated with thousands of devices6 representing various whims and thoughts, among which there was, if I remember correctly, a rooster singing to the breaking dawn,7 accompanied by a motto in Tuscan that read ‘I am the sole one to gaze upon you,’8 as well as a wilted heliotrope with the Tuscan
motto ‘As the sun sets,’9 and so many others that it would take more memory and time than I have to describe them all—and when they found the king, as I was saying, all happy and jubilant, they said to him, ‘Since Corvetto has accomplished so very much in your service, wouldn’t it be a wonderful thing if he did you the special favor of obtaining the ogre’s palace, which is fit for an emperor? Indeed, it has so many rooms inside and out that you could put a whole army in there, and you wouldn’t believe its courtyards, porticoes, loggias, terraces, spiral latrines, and tubed chimneys, and the architecture is such that art takes pride in it, nature bows before it, and astonishment wallows in it.’ The king, who had a fertile brain that was easily impregnated, called Corvetto and told him that he had a craving for the ogre’s palace and that if he added this leftover to the plate of pleasures he had already given the king, the king would write his name with the charcoal of obligation on the walls of the tavern of his memory.10
“Lo monaciello, lo monaciello! Gente, cannele, corrite!” [“An imp, an imp! Help, bring candles, hurry!”]
“Corvetto, who was a lit match and could run a hundred miles an hour, threw his legs over his shoulder, and when he arrived at the ogre’s palace he discovered that the ogress had just given birth to a lovely little ogrelet. Her husband had gone to invite all their relatives to a party, and the new mother was already out of bed, all busy laying out the feast. Corvetto entered, brazen faced, and said, ‘Nice to see you, illustrious woman, lovely lady of the house! Why are you tormenting yourself like this? Yesterday you gave birth and now you’re working so hard. Have you no mercy for your own flesh?’ ‘What do you want me to do,’ answered the ogress, ‘if there’s no one to help me?’ ‘I’m here,’ replied Corvetto, ‘to help you with kicks and bites!’ ‘Well, then, you’re welcome,’ said the ogress. ‘And seeing as you offer your services so kindly, help me chop these four pieces of wood.’ ‘With pleasure,’ replied Corvetto, ‘and if four aren’t enough let them be five!’ He picked up a freshly sharpened hatchet, and instead of giving the wood a blow he used it on the ogress’s neck and sent her to falling to the ground like a pear. After that he ran to the doorstep, dug a very deep ditch, and when he had covered it with branches and earth took up a lookout post behind the door. Upon seeing the ogre and the relatives arrive, he ran into the courtyard and started shouting, ‘May you be my witnesses: watch that piece of shit,11 and long live the king of Wide River!’ When he heard this bit of bravado, the ogre ran like lightning toward Corvetto with the intention of tearing him to shreds. But as all the ogres rushed under the portico, their feet trampled the ditch and they tumbled down into it. Corvetto then bombarded them with rocks until he made a pizza of them, after which he locked the door and brought the keys to the king.
“When the king saw how the valor and ingenuity of this young man had survived in the face of Fortune’s teasing, envy’s spite, and the courtiers’ plotting, he married Corvetto to his daughter. Indeed, the rafters of envy were, for Corvetto, the posts12 that allowed him to launch the boat of his life in the sea of greatness, and his enemies, confused and consumed with rage, went off to shit without a candle, since the punishment of a wicked man may be delayed, but it never fails to arrive.”
8
THE IGNORAMUS*
Eighth Entertainment of the Third Day
Moscione’s father sends him to do business in Cairo to get him out from under his own roof, where he behaves worse than a jackass. At every turn of the road he meets up with men of exceptional powers whom he takes with him; thanks to them he returns home weighed down and laden with silver and gold.
There was no lack of courtiers around the prince who would have made evident the anger they felt at being touched on their sore point, if their art had not been precisely that of dissimulation. Nor could one say whether the affront of seeing their own deceit thrown back in their faces or the envy in hearing of Corvetto’s happiness irritated them more. But as she began to speak, Paola drew their hearts out of the well of their self-love with the hook of these words: “An ignoramus who frequents virtuous men has always been praised much more than a wise man who associates with worthless people, because just as the ignoramus may earn comfort and greatness thanks to the former, the wise man may lose his goods and honor by the fault of the latter. And if you can tell that a ham is good by testing it with a stick,1 you will be able to tell if what I have proposed to you is true from the case that I will tell you about.
“There once was a father as rich as the sea, but since perfect happiness is not possible in this world, he had a son who was so wretched and worthless that he couldn’t tell a carob pod from a cucumber. No longer able to digest his idiocy, the father gave him a nice handful of scudos and sent him in the direction of the Orient2 to do business, since he knew that seeing diverse countries and associating with different people awakens wits, sharpens reason, and makes a man clever.
“Moscione, for this was the name of the boy, got on his horse and started to walk off in the direction of Venice, arsenal of the world’s marvels,3 from which place he intended to embark on a vessel that went to Cairo. When he had traveled a good day he came across a man standing at the foot of a poplar tree, to whom he said, ‘What do they call you, my young man? Where are you from? And what’s your trade?’ And the other answered, ‘My name is Flash, I come from Thunderbolt, and I can run as fast as lightning.’ ‘I’d like to see proof of that,’ replied Moscione. And Flash said, ‘Wait a minute, and you’ll see if it’s dust or flour!’ They stood there for a while, and then a deer passed through the countryside and Flash, after letting it get a bit ahead so that it would have the advantage, began to run at such an excessive speed and with such a fleet foot that he could have passed over a field of flour without leaving a footprint, and in four leaps he reached the deer. When he saw this, Moscione was full of marvel and told Flash that if he wanted to stay with him he would pay him handsomely. Flash agreed, and they set off together.
“But they had walked no farther than four miles when they met another young man, to whom Moscione said, ‘What’s your name, pal? What town are you from and what trade do you practice?’ And the other answered, ‘My name is Hare’s-Ear, I’m from Curious Valley, and when I put my ear to the ground I can hear what’s going on all over the world without moving a hair. I can hear artisans putting together monopolies and intrigues to alter the price of their goods, courtiers plotting bad actions, go-betweens offering woeful advice, lovers on their dates, thieves dealing, servants complaining, spies giving their reports, old women psss-psssting, sailors cursing; not even Lucian’s rooster or Franco’s lamp4 could see as much as these ears of mine do.’ ‘If that is the truth,’ answered Moscione, ‘tell me: what are they talking about at my house?’ Hare’s-Ear put his ear to the ground and said, ‘An old man is talking with his wife, and he’s saying, “May the Sun in Leo be praised! I managed to get that Moscione out from under my eyes, that face like an old robe, that nail in my heart; at least if he travels around the world he’ll become a man and won’t be such a brutish ass, cretin, and slacker!”’ ‘No more! No more!’ said Moscione. ‘You’re telling the truth and I believe you! Come along with me, then, for you’ve found your fortune.’ ‘I’m coming,’ said the young man.
“And so they set off together, and after another ten miles they met another young man, to whom Moscione said, ‘What name do you go by, my respectable man? Where were you born and what can you do in this world?’ And the other answered, ‘My name is Sharpshooter, I come from Surefire Castle, and I can hit a target with my crossbow with enough precision to split a jujube in two.’ ‘I’d like to see proof of that,’ replied Moscione, and Sharpshooter took up his crossbow, aimed, and hit a chickpea that was sitting on a stone. When he saw this, Moscione took him on as he had the others in his company.
“After walking for another day they met some men who were building a fine mole under a sun that blazed so strong that they might have said, with good reas
on, ‘Parrella, add some water to the wine, for my heart is burning.’5 Moscione felt so sorry for them that he said, ‘And how is it, O masters, that you can bear to stay in this oven, where it’s hot enough to cook a buffalo placenta?’ One of them answered, ‘We’re as fresh as a rose because we have a young man who breathes so hard on us from behind that it seems like the west wind is blowing.’ And Moscione said, ‘Let me see him, and may God watch over you!’ The masons called the young man, and Moscione said to him, ‘What name do you go by, on the life of my father? What land are you from? What is your profession?’ And the other answered, ‘My name is Blowboy, I’m from Windy Land, and I can do all the winds with my mouth. If you want a breeze I’ll give you one that’ll send you to seventh heaven; if you want something stronger I can blow down houses.’ ‘I won’t believe it unless I see it,’ said Moscione. And Blowboy started to blow, at first so gently that it seemed like the wind that wafts through Posillipo in the evening, but then he suddenly turned toward some trees and blew such a furious wind that he uprooted a whole row of oaks. When Moscione saw this, he took him on as a companion.
“After they walked for another day he met another young man, to whom he said, ‘Don’t think I’m ordering you around, but what’s your name? Where are you from, if one may know? And what’s your trade, if that’s a fair question?’ And the other answered, ‘My name is Strongback, I’m from Valentino, and I’m so powerful that I can throw a mountain on my back and it feels like a feather.’ ‘If that’s the case,’ said Moscione, ‘you would deserve to be the king of customs6 and you would be chosen to carry the banner on May Day,7 but I’d like to see proof.’ And Strongback began to load himself up with boulders, tree trunks, and so many other types of weights that a thousand big carts couldn’t have carried it all. When Moscione saw this, they made a deal that Strongback would stay with him.
The Tale of Tales Page 33
