The Book of the City of Ladies

by Christine Pizan

  ‘Spending much of her time at her father’s side as he held court in his great hall, she started to notice that one young squire stood out from the many other gentlemen of the household. Compared to all these knights and noblemen, this man seemed to her to be more handsome and more refined and to have such excellent qualities that she thought him well worthy of her affection. In short, she was so impressed by his fine character that she decided that she would take him as her lover, for she wished to enjoy the remainder of her youth and give full rein to her passions. She none the less took her time before revealing her intentions to him. Seated at her father’s table every day, she watched him closely in order to observe his behaviour and conduct. In fact, the more she saw of this man, whose name was Guiscardo, the more perfect he seemed to her in every way.

  ‘Fully satisfied with what she had seen, she sent for him one day and said to him, “Guiscardo, my dear friend, my faith in your integrity, loyalty and honesty has convinced me to share some of my secret thoughts with you, thoughts which I can’t disclose to anybody else. However, before I say anything to you, I want you to swear that you will never reveal these words to another living soul.” Guiscardo replied, “My lady, have no fear: I shall never pass on anything you say to me to a third person. You have my word of honour upon it.” Ghismonda then continued, “Guiscardo, I want you to know that I am strongly attracted to a certain gentleman and would like him to become my paramour. However, as it’s very difficult for me to speak with him and I have no one to convey my thoughts to him, I would like you to act as our go-between. So you can see, Guiscardo, just how much I trust you above all others, because I’m making you responsible for protecting my good name.” In response, Guiscardo sank to his knees, saying, “My lady, knowing that you are far too respectable and discerning ever to act in an improper way, I thank you most humbly for having decided to entrust your secret thoughts to me and no one else. My dearest lady, you can command me to do whatever you please, safe in the knowledge that my mind and body are entirely at your disposal. Moreover, I would be happy to offer my humble services to the man who is fortunate enough to be loved by such a worthy lady as yourself, for he is truly the object of a most honourable and noble passion.” Having put him to the test and heard him give such a pleasing reply, Ghismonda took him by the hand and declared, “My dear Guiscardo, I must tell you that it is you I’ve chosen to be my one true love and on whom I want to lavish my affection. Your noble character and admirable qualities have convinced me that you are more than deserving of such a courtly relationship.” The young man was overjoyed at her words and expressed his grateful thanks.

  ‘To keep the tale brief, their love flourished for a long time without being discovered. However, Fortune became so jealous of their happiness that she could no longer bear to let the two lovers experience such pleasure. She thus decided to turn their joy into sorrow, and in the most extraordinary way. One summer’s day, whilst Ghismonda was strolling in the garden with her ladies, her father, who was only happy when he was near her, went up to see if she was in her bedroom so that they could have a little tête-à-tête. Finding no one around but seeing all the windows closed and the bedcurtains drawn, he assumed that she was taking a nap and didn’t want to wake her. He therefore lay down on a sofa and promptly fell sound asleep. When Ghismonda felt that she had spent long enough in the garden, she went up to her bedroom and lay down on her bed, explaining that she wanted to rest. She made all her ladies leave the room and close the door behind them. Neither she nor any of them had noticed that her father was there. Thinking that she was now alone, she got up from her bed and went to fetch Guiscardo, who was hiding in a dressing room, and led him into her chamber. They began to talk behind the bedcurtains, as freely as if no one else were present, and woke up the prince who soon realized that a man was in bed with his daughter. He was so horrified by this discovery that he had to restrain himself from confronting her on the spot, which would have brought instant disgrace upon her. He therefore stayed in the bedroom long enough to recognize her lover’s voice before managing to slip out without them noticing.

  ‘When the couple had finished making love, Guiscardo took his leave of the lady. The prince, who had ordered Guiscardo’s arrest, had him taken prisoner and thrown into the dungeons. He then went up to speak to his daughter. With tears in his eyes and pain written all over his face, he said to her, “Ghismonda, I thought that in you I had the most beautiful, intelligent and virtuous daughter in the world. I’m thus all the more shocked because I never would have imagined that this was not the case. If I hadn’t seen you with my own eyes, no one could possibly have persuaded me that you would lie with a man outside the bonds of marriage. However, as it’s now quite clear to me how things stand, my disillusionment will haunt me for the rest of my old age; indeed, until the very day I die. What’s made me most angry is that I used to think that you had a finer character than any other woman alive. Now I’m convinced of the total opposite when I see that the man you have chosen as your lover is amongst the lowest in my household. If you were absolutely determined to do this, you could at least have picked a worthier lover than Guiscardo from my host of courtiers. He’s going to pay dearly for all the distress he’s caused me. I tell you now that I’m going to have him put to death. I’d do the same to you too if my foolish devotion to you, surely the greatest that any father ever felt for a daughter, didn’t stop me from doing so.”

  ‘As you can imagine, Ghismonda was horrified when she realized that her father had found out the thing that she had wanted above all else to be kept secret. Yet, what most cut her to the quick was the thought that her father had threatened to kill her lover. Though she would have preferred to die there and then, she gathered her wits together and put on a brave face. Without shedding a single tear, and despite her resolve to end her own life, she answered him, “Father, Fortune has obviously willed you to discover my secret, which I would have preferred to have kept hidden from you at all costs. I know I have no right to ask you for anything; however, if I thought I could win a reprieve from you for my lover by offering you my life instead of his, I’d beg you to kill me rather than him. I haven’t any intention of asking your forgiveness if you’re determined to carry out your threat against him, since I would have no further reason for living. You can be sure that by killing him, you will thus put an end to my life as well. As for being so upset by what you have found out, you have no one to blame but yourself. Given that you’re a creature of flesh and blood, didn’t you realize that you had a daughter who was made not of iron and stone, but of exactly the same material as yourself? Despite your age, you shouldn’t have forgotten what it’s like to be young and to live a life of luxury and pleasure, with all the temptations that such an existence places in one’s way. Moreover, since you made it clear to me that you were totally against my remarrying, I fell in love with this man because I knew I was still young and capable of feeling passion. Neither did I give myself to him without having first devoted a great deal of thought to the matter. Indeed, I observed his behaviour most carefully and found him to be more generously endowed with every possible virtue than any other member of your court. You should know this only too well, for it was you who educated him. And what does nobility consist of, if not virtue? It doesn’t depend on one’s blood and ancestry. So you have no right to say that I picked the lowliest man of your household. Nor do you have any reason to be as angry with us as you claim to be, given that you yourself are at fault. However, if you’re dead set on inflicting this terrible punishment on us, you shouldn’t take it out on him, because it would be sinful and unjust to do so. Rather, you should punish me, for it was I who declared myself to him, not vice versa. Besides, just how do you think he should have reacted to my declaration? It would certainly have been very churlish on his part to refuse such a high-born lady. You should pardon him for his misdeed, not me!”

  ‘The prince took his leave of Ghismonda at this point, but without being in the least better dispose
d towards Guiscardo. In fact, he had him killed the very next day, ordering that his heart should be ripped out of his chest. He then placed this heart in a golden cup and sent it with a cryptic message to his daughter. In this message, he told her that with the present that he was sending her he hoped to bring her joy from the thing that she most loved in the world, as a reward for having brought him such joy from the thing that he had cherished most in life. When the messenger saw Ghismonda, he gave her the present and repeated to her exactly what he had been told to say. Taking the cup, she lifted the lid and soon recognized what was inside. Though she was griefstricken, she succeeded in controlling her feelings and, without a flicker of emotion, replied, “My friend, please tell the prince that he has at least got one thing right: he has given this heart a most fitting sepulchre, for only gold and precious jewels would have been good enough for it.” She then bent down towards the heart and kissed it, murmuring through her tears, “O sweetest of hearts, in which all my joy was entrusted, a curse be on him for his cruelty in forcing me to see you like this before my very eyes: if ever I wanted to gaze upon you in the past, I could always do so with the eyes of my soul. By a tragic twist of fate, your noble life has now come to an end. Yet, the wishes of wicked Fortune have been thwarted, for your enemy has in fact given you exactly the kind of sepulchre that you richly deserved. O dearest heart, it’s more than fitting that I, who loved you so much, should perform the last rites for you by washing you down with my tears. I’ll not fail you in this. Neither would it be right if your soul were ever separated from mine: my spirit will shortly be there to keep yours company. Once again, treacherous Fortune’s plans have been foiled, she who has done you such harm. It’s a boon that my cruel father has sent you to me so that I may pay my final respects to you. I can thus speak to you one last time before I depart this life and my spirit flies off to be at your spirit’s side. I know that, for both of us, this is our most fervent wish.” With these and many other touching words, which would have moved anyone who heard them to tears, Ghismonda wept so heavily that it was as if two abundant streams were flowing out of her eyes into the cup. She gave no sobs or cries, but murmured quietly to the heart as she covered it in kisses.

  ‘The ladies and maidens who were there with her were all utterly amazed at this sight. They knew nothing about what had happened and had no idea why she was so desperately upset. Out of sympathy with their mistress, they too burst into tears and made every effort to comfort her. Yet, it was all in vain. Even her most intimate companions could get no answer from her about why she was in such a state of anguish. When Ghismonda was at last exhausted from her grieving and could weep no more, she said, “O beloved heart, my duty towards you is now done. All that is left for me to do is to send my soul on its way to rejoin yours.” So saying, she stood up and went over to a cupboard, taking out a small phial in which she had dissolved some poisonous herbs in water, in case she should ever need them. First pouring the liquid into the cup which contained the heart, she then swallowed the whole lot without a moment’s hesitation and went to lie down on her bed to wait for death, wrapping her arms tightly round the cup. As soon as the ladies realized that she was in her death throes, they were horrified. They therefore ran to call her father, who had gone out for a walk to try to forget his unhappiness for a while. When he arrived at her bedside, the poison had already flooded her veins. Full of sorrow at this tragic sight, and bitterly regretting what he had done, he wept copious tears as he spoke tender words to her in a desperate attempt to console her. Though she could barely speak, his daughter answered, “Tancredi, save your tears for another. They have no place here and I have no desire whatsoever to see them. You’re like a serpent that bites a man to death and then weeps for what it’s done. Wouldn’t it have been better for you if you had allowed your wretched daughter to enjoy her secret love affair with a worthy man rather than have to watch the sad spectacle of her death by your cruel hand, which thus means that what was supposed to be kept a secret has now been revealed to all?” With these last words, her heart finally gave out, the cup still clasped in her hands. Her despicable old father soon died of grief. Thus it was that Ghismonda, daughter of the prince of Salerno, ended her days.’

  60. About Lisabetta, and other women in love.

  ‘In his Decameron, Boccaccio also tells the story of a young girl called Lisabetta, who came from the Italian city of Messina. This girl had three brothers who were so avaricious that they delayed marrying her off for as long as possible. These brothers had a servant who looked after all their affairs, a good-looking and attractive young man who had been brought up in their father’s household since he was a boy. He and Lisabetta spent such a lot of time together that they eventually fell in love with each other. While it lasted, their relationship brought them both much happiness. However, in the end, her brothers realized what was going on and took it as a terrible affront. They didn’t make a public outcry about it, for fear of bringing disgrace on their sister, but decided instead to put the man to death. One day, they took the young man, whose name was Lorenzo, to visit one of their properties with them. No sooner had they arrived at this place than they killed him in the garden and buried his body amongst the trees. On their return to Messina, they made out that Lorenzo had been sent away on a long trip to see to some business of theirs.

  ‘Lisabetta, in her deep devotion to the young man, was distraught at being deprived of her lover’s company and felt sick at heart, for she suspected that something was amiss. Unable to contain her feelings any longer, she couldn’t stop herself from asking one of her brothers where Lorenzo had gone to. Her brother answered her very abruptly, “What’s it to you where he is? If you ever mention his name again, you’ll be in trouble!” Convinced that her brothers had found out about her and Lorenzo, Lisabetta was no longer in any doubt that they had done away with him. In private, the poor girl was totally overwhelmed by her sorrow and, at night, unable to sleep, she shed bitter tears as she lamented the loss of her lover. In the end, she became ill from all her grieving. Using her illness as a pretext, she asked her brothers to allow her to spend some time visiting one of their properties that lay outside the city walls. As soon as she received their permission, she guessed instinctively what had happened and went off by herself to the garden where Lorenzo was buried. She searched all around until she saw where the earth had recently been turned over to make a grave. Using a spade she had brought with her, she dug up the earth and succeeded in finding the body. As she held his corpse in her arms, her grief and distress knew no bounds.

  ‘Realizing that she would be found out if she stayed there too long, she covered up the body once more with earth and took only Lorenzo’s head, which her brothers had cut off. When she had finished showering the head with kisses, she wrapped it in a beautiful veil and placed it in the bottom of one of those big pots used for growing herbs. She then planted the top of the pot with some lovely cuttings of a delightful, sweet-smelling herb called basil, which she then carried back with her to town. She was so attached to this pot that she couldn’t tear herself away from the windowsill on which she had placed it, and would water it, day and night, with nothing but her tears. Despite what some men say about women having short memories, her grief wasn’t over in a matter of days, but rather seemed to increase with time. The basil itself grew thick and strong from the rich compost on which it fed. In short, Lisabetta paid such constant attention to the pot that some of her neighbours began to notice that she was forever weeping at her window and went to inform her brothers. They then spied on her and watched her in the full flood of her grieving. Totally baffled as to why she was behaving in this way, they stole the pot from her, which caused her even greater distress when she was unable to find it the next day. She begged them with all her heart to give her back the pot, promising them that they could have her share of the family inheritance if they did so. In her bitter lament, she cried out, “Alas! How unlucky I am to be the sister of such cruel brothers as these! They’re s
o against my having any pleasure that they won’t even give me back my wretched pot of basil. It means nothing to them, but it’s all I want from them by way of a dowry. Alas, what a terrible injury they’ve done me!” The poor girl fell into such a state of anguish that she became seriously ill and had to take to her bed. During her illness, the only thing she asked for was her pot, refusing everything else that was offered to her. In the end, she died a pitiful death because of it. To prove to you that I’m not telling lies, a song was written about her and her pot after she died, a song which is still sung today.

  ‘What can I tell you? I could give you endless examples of women who loved with a mad passion like this and who were faithful to the bitter end. Boccaccio recounts the story of another woman, whose husband made her eat the heart of her lover, and who then refused ever to eat again.6 The same thing happened to the dame de Fayel, who was in love with the châtelain de Coucy. The châtelaine de Vergi likewise died of a broken heart, as did Isolde, who was so utterly devoted to Tristan. Deianira, who loved Hercules, also killed herself when he died. So there is no doubt that a faithful woman who gives her heart to another is capable of great ardour, despite the fact that there are some women who do lack constancy.

  ‘However, these sad examples, along with all the other ones that I could tell you, are not intended to encourage women to launch themselves on the perilous and treacherous sea of passionate love. This is because such liaisons always have a tragic ending and the woman invariably loses out in terms of her health, status, reputation and, most important of all, her soul. Those women who are sensible and wise would do well to avoid embarking on affairs like this and not to waste any time on listening to men who are always looking for ways of leading them into such traps.’