The Tale of Tales

by Giambattista Basile

  “But not being able to resist, the miserable soul wanted to try a second time with the second formula, and when she said ‘anola tranola, pizze fontanola,’ there appeared before her a golden cage, which held a splendid bird made of gold and precious stones that was singing like a nightingale. When the ladies-in-waiting saw this and informed the queen, she wanted to see for herself. She asked the same question she had asked for the little carriage and Betta answered the same way she had the first time, and the queen, who had already foreseen and figured out what the sneaky girl was up to, promised to let her sleep with her husband. And after she took the cage and the bird, and night arrived, she gave Pretty as a Picture the usual sleeping draught and sent him off to sleep with Betta in the same room, where she had ordered that a lovely bed be prepared. When Betta saw that he was sleeping as soundly as someone whose throat had been cut, she began the same lament again, saying things that would have moved a paving stone to pity; and lamenting and weeping and ripping herself apart, she spent another night filled with torment. As soon as it was day the queen went down to get her husband, leaving the hapless Betta, who was biting her hands over the joke that had been played on her, cold and icy.

  “But when Pretty as a Picture went out the next morning to pick a few figs in a garden outside the city walls, he was approached by an old junk seller who lived on the other side of the wall from Betta’s room and hadn’t missed a word of what she had said, and he related point by point the tribulations, the weeping, and the laments of the miserable beggar woman. Upon hearing this the king, who was already beginning to change his mind about things, imagined what must have happened and decided that if he were sent to sleep with the poor little soul another time, he would not drink what the queen had prepared for him.

  “Now since Betta wanted to try a third time, she pronounced the third formula, ‘tafaro e tammurro, pizze ’ngongole e cemmino,’ and out came an armful of cloth of silk and gold and sashes embroidered with golden seashells, and it was finery more beautiful than even the queen herself would have been able to put together. When the ladies-in-waiting caught a glimpse of those things they informed their mistress, who attempted to negotiate for them as she had for the other things. She received the same answer from Betta—that if she wanted the goods she had to let her husband sleep with her—and the queen said to herself, ‘What am I going to lose if I satisfy this vulgar girl in order to steal those beautiful things away from her?’ She took all the riches that Betta offered her, and that evening—as soon as Night arrived after liquidating the debts it had contracted with sleep and rest—she gave the sleeping draught to Pretty as a Picture.

  “But he kept it in his mouth and then pretended to go and empty his bladder, and spit it out in another room. When he went to lie down next to Betta, she started up with the same tune, explaining how she had molded him out of sugar and almonds with her own hands, how she had made his hair out of gold and his eyes and mouth out of pearls and precious stones, how he was in debt to her for the life given to him by the gods as a result of her prayers, and, finally, how he had been robbed from her and how she, big and pregnant, had gone looking for him and had encountered more hardships than the heavens usually allow baptized flesh to endure. And, moreover, how she had slept for two other nights with him, in exchange for two treasures, without being able to say a single word to him, and how this was the last night for her hopes and the terminus for her life.

  “Pretty as a Picture, who was awake, heard these words and started to remember as if in a dream everything that had happened, and he embraced and comforted her as best he could. And—since Night had gone out with its black mask to direct the dance of the stars—he got up very quietly, entered the room where the queen was lost in a deep sleep, and took all the things she had stolen from Betta and all the jewels and golden coins in her strongbox as compensation for the suffering she had caused. Then he returned to his wife, and they left that very moment and walked until they were beyond the borders of the kingdom, where they rested themselves in excellent lodgings until Betta gave birth to a lovely baby boy.

  “When she was able to get out of bed, they set off for her father’s house, where they found him alive and healthy and as sprightly as a boy of fifteen at the joy of seeing his daughter again. The queen, finding neither her husband nor the beggar girl nor her jewels, tore herself to shreds, and there was no lack of those who said those who deceive should not complain if they are deceived.”

  4

  THE GOLDEN TRUNK*

  Fourth Entertainment of the Fifth Day

  Parmetella, daughter of a poor peasant, encounters good fortune, but due to her excessive curiosity she lets it get away. After a thousand torments she finds her husband at the house of his mother, an ogress, and after undergoing great dangers they live together happily.

  There was more than one of them who would have given a finger of their hand to be able to have the power to make a husband or wife just as they desired; the prince in particular would have liked some sugar paste next to him instead of the pile of venom that was sitting there. But since it was Tolla’s turn to play the game, she didn’t wait for the official summons to pay her debt but began to speak in this manner: “When people are too curious and want to know too much, the fuse that blows up the powder magazine of their fortunes is always lit. Quite often those who mind other people’s business fail at their own, and more times than not those who go digging for treasure with excessive curiosity find themselves with their faces pushed into the sewer, like what happened to the daughter of a vegetable farmer, in the manner that follows.

  “There once was a vegetable farmer who was so terribly poor that for all he sweat and toiled he was barely able to buy his bread.1 One day he purchased three little sows for his three daughters, so that they could raise them and have a little something for their dowries. Pascuzza and Cice, the older daughters, took their sows to graze in a lovely pasture, but they didn’t want Parmetella, the youngest daughter, to go with them, so they sent her off to graze her animal elsewhere.

  “Parmetella took her little animal into a wood—where the shadows heroically resisted the Sun’s assault—and upon arriving at some pasture land in the middle of which flowed a little fountain—innkeeper of cool water that with its silvery tongue invited the passersby to drink half a measure—she came across a tree with golden leaves. She took one and brought it back to her father, who with great joy sold it for more than twenty ducats, which allowed him to stop up a few holes. And when he asked her where she had found it, she said, ‘Take it, sir, and ask no more, or your fortune will be ruined!’ The following day she returned and did the same thing, and she went on stripping the tree of its leaves for so long that at the end it was completely plucked, as if it had been sacked by the winds.

  “When autumn had passed and she realized that the tree had a great golden trunk that she wouldn’t be able to pull up with her hands, she went home and returned with a hatchet, and set to work baring the roots all around the base of the tree. Then she lifted up the trunk as best she could and found a beautiful porphyry staircase underneath, and since she was immeasurably curious she followed it down to the bottom. After walking through a large, terribly dark cave she came to a lovely plain on which stood a splendid palace, where your feet trod on nothing but gold and silver and you saw nothing before you but pearls and precious stones. Parmetella stared at all of those lavish riches as if she were in a daze, and, not seeing any sign of movement on such beautiful premises, she went into a room hung with a number of pictures in which were painted many beautiful things: in particular, the ignorance of men considered wise, the injustice of those who hold the scales of justice, and the crimes punished by the heavens, all things that seemed so real and alive that it was astonishing. And in that same room she found a lovely table set for a meal.

  “Feeling her stomach rumble and not seeing anyone there, Parmetella sat down at the table and began to dig in like a great lord. But jus
t as she was chewing most happily, in came a handsome slave, who said, ‘Stop, do not leave; I want you for my wife, and I will make you the happiest woman in the world!’ Although Parmetella was spinning the fine thread of fear, she nevertheless took heart when she heard this nice promise, and, agreeing to what the slave had proposed, she was immediately given a diamond carriage pulled by four golden horses with emerald and ruby wings, which took her for a ride in the air to amuse her. And as personal maids she was given a number of monkeys wearing golden robes, who immediately began to dress her from head to toe as elegantly as a spider, so that she looked just like a queen.

  “But when night fell—and the Sun, wanting to sleep on the shores of the river of India unbothered by horseflies, put out the light—the slave said to her, ‘My darling, if you want to go nightie-night, get into this bed. But after you wrap yourself up in the sheets put out the candle, and be careful to do as I tell you if you don’t want to tangle things up.’ Parmetella did this and then fell asleep, but no sooner had her eyes been sprinkled with poppy dust than the slave, who had become a beautiful young man, got into bed by her side. Waking up, she felt her wool being carded without a comb and thought she would die of fright, but when she realized that it was merely a civil war, she kept still under the blows. But—before Dawn came out to look for some fresh eggs to appease her little old lover—the slave jumped out of bed and got back his dark veneer, leaving Parmetella quite eager to know what sort of glutton had sucked up the very first egg of such a pretty spring chicken as herself.

  “The next night arrived, and she went to bed and put out the candle as she had done the previous night, and, as before, the handsome young man came and lay beside her. After he grew tired of romping around and fell asleep, she took out a flint she had prepared, struck it on some tinder, flared up a match, and lit the candle. Then she lifted up the covers and saw that the ebony had turned to ivory, the caviar to the milkiest milk, and the coal to whitewash. At the sight of such beauty she stood there with her mouth hanging open, considering and contemplating the most beautiful brushstroke that Nature had ever given to its canvas of marvels. But the beautiful young man awoke and began to curse Parmetella, saying, ‘Alas, I’ll have to perform this accursed penance for another seven years because of you, since you wanted to stick your nose into my secrets with such curiosity! Go away now, beat it, get lost, disappear, and go back to your rags, since you weren’t capable of recognizing your own luck!’ And as he was saying this he slipped away like quicksilver.

  “The poor girl, all cold and icy, lowered her head to the ground and left the house, and outside the grotto she encountered a fairy who said to her, ‘Oh, my child, my soul weeps for your misfortune! You’re being sent to your slaughter, for you’ll be going over the Bridge of Hair,2 you poor thing! But to keep yourself from danger, take these seven spindles, these seven figs, this jar of honey, and these seven pairs of iron shoes, and walk without ever stopping until they’re all worn out. Then you’ll see seven women spinning from the balcony of a house down to the ground, with their thread wound on dead people’s bones. And you know what you need to do? Stay crouched down and very quietly, as the thread is lowered, take the bone off and attach the honey-smeared spindle to it with a fig in the place of the spindle holder, so that when they pull it up and taste the sweetness they’ll say, “May whoever sweetened my little mouth find their little fortune sweetened, too!” And after these words they’ll say, one after the other, “O you who have brought me these sweet things, show yourself!” And you answer, “I don’t want to because you’ll eat me!” They’ll say, “I won’t eat you, may God save my serving spoon!” And you dig in your heels and be stubborn, and they’ll continue, “I won’t eat you, may God save my spit!” And you keep as still as if you were being shaved. They’ll go on, “I won’t eat you, may God save my broom!” And don’t you believe a word of it, and even if they say, “I won’t eat you, may the heavens save my chamber pot,” you close your mouth and don’t say a peep, or else they’ll make you shit your life away. Finally they’ll say, “May God save Thunder-and-Lightning, I won’t eat you!” And then you climb up there, and you can be sure they won’t harm you.’

  Stanno a canna aperta a tenere mente e contempranno la chiù bella pennellata c’avesse dato mai la Natura ’ncoppa la tela de la maraveglia. [She stood there with her mouth hanging open, considering and contemplating the most beautiful brushstroke that Nature had ever given to its canvas of marvels.]

  “After listening to this, Parmetella began to walk though valleys and up mountains, so far that after seven years her iron shoes had worn out. She arrived at a large house that had a little loggia hanging off it and saw the seven women spinning, and when she had done everything the fairy had advised her to do, after a thousand peek-a-boos and hide-and-seeks, the oath of Thunder-and-Lightning was finally uttered, and she climbed up and showed herself. At this, all seven of them said, ‘Oh, you traitorous bitch, you’re the reason our brother has been in the grotto for seven and now seven more years, far from us, with the body of a slave! But don’t worry, for even if you have succeeded in confiscating our throats with an oath, at the first chance we get we’ll make you pay for the old and the new! You know what you need to do now? Crouch down behind that cupboard, and when our mother, who without a doubt would gobble you right up, comes in, go up behind her and grab her tits, which she carries like saddlebags on her shoulders, and then pull as hard as you can and don’t let go until she swears on Thunder-and-Lightning that she won’t hurt you.’

  “Parmetella did this, and after the mother swore on the fireplace shovel, the foot stool, the clothes rack, the reel, and the dish rack, she swore on Thunder-and-Lightning, and Parmetella let go of her tits and showed herself to the ogress, who said to her, ‘I could kick myself! But you better dig a straight row, traitor, because the first time it rains I’ll have you thrown in a gutter stream!’3 And, poking around with sticks for an opportunity to wolf her down, one day the ogress took twelve sacks of beans that were all mixed up and jumbled together—there were chickpeas and chicklings and peas and lentils and kidney beans and fava beans and rice and lupins—and said to her, ‘Here you go, traitor, take these beans and sort them so that each kind is separate from the others, and if they’re not done by this evening I’ll eat you up like a three-penny fritter!’

  “Poor Parmetella sat at the foot of the sacks and said, weeping, ‘Oh, my dear mother, that golden trunk has cost me so much! This time it’s really over for me! This blackened heart has become a rag, and all because I saw a black face become white! Alas, I’m ruined, I’m done for, there’s no possible remedy; it looks to me like I’m going to be in that stinking ogress’s gullet any minute now! And there’s no one who can help me, no one who can give me advice, no one who can comfort me!’

  “Now as she was tearing her hair out, all of a sudden Thunder-and-Lightning appeared before her like a lightning bolt. He had finished the period of exile imposed on him by the curse, and even though he was angry with Parmetella his blood was not made of water, and when he saw her wailing like that he said, ‘Traitor, what have you to cry about?’ And she told him how his mother had treated her so badly and of her intentions to rub her out and then eat her up. To which Thunder-and-Lightning answered, ‘Arise and take heart, for it will not be so!’ And, throwing all the beans on the ground, he caused a river of ants to come forth. They immediately began to pile all the beans into separate groups so that Parmetella was able to gather one kind at a time and fill the sacks.

  “When the ogress came back and found the job done, she fell into a state of despair, saying, ‘That dog Thunder-and-Lightning did me this nice service, but you’ll pay me the difference. Take these ticks, which are for twelve mattresses, and fill them all with feathers by this evening or else I’ll chop you to pieces!’ The poor soul took the mattress covers, sat on the ground, and had begun not only to howl but also to tear at herself and to make two fountains of her eyes when Thun
der-and-Lightning appeared and said to her, ‘Don’t cry, traitor! Leave it to this fellow; I’ll guide you to your port. Now mess up your hair, spread the mattress covers on the ground, and start to cry and moan and scream that the King of the Birds4 is dead, and you’ll see what happens.’ Parmetella did this, and there suddenly appeared a cloud of birds that darkened the air, and as they beat their wings they sent basket after basket of feathers falling to the ground, so that in less than an hour the mattresses were full.

  “When the ogress came and saw what had happened, she blew up so violently that she was about to split her sides, and she said, ‘Thunder-and-Lightning is starting to get on my nerves, but I’ll be dragged around on a monkey’s tail if I don’t trap her someplace where she won’t be able to get away from me!’ With this, she told Parmetella, ‘Run, roll on down to my sister’s house and tell her to send me the musical instruments, since I’ve married off Thunder-and-Lightning and we want to have a celebration fit for a king.’ And on the other end, she sent word to her sister that when the traitor came to get the instruments she should immediately kill her and cook her, and that she would come so that they could eat her together.

  “When she saw herself ordered to do lighter work Parmetella grew quite cheerful, for she believed that the weather was starting to get milder—oh, how wrong human judgment is!—but then on the way she ran into Thunder-and-Lightning, who when he saw her hurrying along said to her, ‘Where are you headed, you wretched thing? Don’t you see that you’re going to slaughter, you’re making your own shackles, you’re sharpening your own knife, and you’re measuring out your own poison, since you’re being sent to the ogress so that she can eat you up? Listen, then, and don’t doubt what I say: take this loaf of bread, this bundle of hay, and this stone, and when you get to my aunt’s house you’ll see that there’s a Corsican hound that will come at you barking and try to bite you. Give it this loaf of bread, and you’ll shut its trap. When you’ve gotten past the dog you’ll find an untied horse that will come at you and try to kick and trample you. Give it this hay, and you’ll bind its hooves. Finally, you’ll find a door that slams continuously; prop it open with this stone, and you’ll take away its strength. Then go upstairs, where you’ll find the ogress holding a baby girl in her arms. She’ll have lit the oven so that she can roast you, and she’ll say to you, “Hold this baby, and wait while I go upstairs to get the instruments,” but you should know that she’s going to sharpen her fangs so that she can tear you apart piece by piece. Throw her little daughter into the oven without mercy, since she’s ogre meat, get the musical instruments from behind the door, and slip out before the ogress comes back, or else you’ll be done for. But be warned that the instruments are in a box that you must not open unless you want trouble and then more trouble.’