‘Sweet friend and master, dearest one of all, since you are wise you will readily acknowledge that men and women are remarkably frail, and that, for a variety of reasons, some are frailer than others. It is therefore right and proper that before an impartial judge, people of different social rank should not be punished equally for committing an identical sin. For nobody would, I think, deny that if a member of the poorer classes, obliged to earn a living through manual toil, were to surrender blindly to the promptings of love, he or she would be far more culpable than a rich and leisured lady who lacked none of the necessary means to gratify her tiniest whim.
‘I consider, then, that circumstances such as these must go a long way towards excusing any woman who allows herself to be enmeshed in the toils of love; and if, in addition, she has chosen a judicious and valiant lover on whom to bestow her affection, she no longer needs any justification whatever. Now, since it is my opinion that both of these prerequisites are present in my own case, and since, moreover, I possess additional incentives for loving, such as my youth and my husband’s absence, they must inevitably operate in my favour and elicit your sympathy for my impetuous passion. And if they carry as much influence as they ought to carry with a man of your experience, I appeal to you for your advice and assistance.
‘The fact is that I am unable, in my husband’s absence, to withstand the promptings of the flesh and the powers of Love, which are so irresistible that even the strongest of men, not to mention frail women like myself, have often succumbed to them in the past and will always continue to do so. Living in the lap of luxury as I do, with nothing to occupy me, I have allowed my thoughts to dwell upon the pleasures of the senses, and fallen hopelessly in love. I realize of course that if this were to become known, it would be regarded as highly improper; but if it is kept secret I can’t really see any harm in it, especially since the God of Love has seen fit not to deprive me of my good judgement in the business of choosing a lover. On the contrary, he has greatly enhanced it by showing me that you, my lord, are worthy in all respects to be loved by a lady of my condition. For unless I am greatly deceived, you are the most handsome, agreeable, elegant and judicious knight to be found anywhere in the Kingdom of France; and just as I can claim to be without a husband, you for your part are without a wife. In the name, therefore, of the immense love that I bear you, I entreat you not to deny me your own, but to take pity on my youth, which I assure you is melting away for you like ice beside a fire.’
These last words brought such a spate of tears in their train, that although she had intended to entreat him still further, she was bereft of the power of speech. And lowering her eyes, she allowed her head to fall upon his breast, weeping incessantly and very nearly swooning with emotion.
Being a knight of unimpeachable loyalty, the Count began to take her severely to task for this insane passion and to repulse the lady, who was already on the point of throwing her arms about his neck. With many an oath, he declared that he would sooner allow himself to be quartered than permit any such harm to be done to his master’s honour, whether by himself or anyone else.
No sooner did the lady hear this than she forgot all about loving him and flew into a savage temper.
‘So!’ she said. ‘Am I to be spurned in this fashion by an upstart knight? It seems you want to break my heart, but I shall break yours, so help me God, or have you hounded off the face of the earth.’
Whereupon she ran her hands through her hair, leaving it all rumpled and dishevelled, after which she tore open the front of her dress, at the same time calling out in a loud voice:
‘Help! Help! The Count of Antwerp is trying to ravish me!’
When he saw what was happening, the Count was far more concerned about the envious proclivities of the courtiers than reassured by his own clear conscience in the matter; and for this reason he feared that the lady’s wicked lies would carry greater conviction than his own protestations of innocence. He therefore hurried out of the room, got quickly away from the palace, and fled to his own house, whence, without pausing for further reflection, he took horse with his children and set off at breakneck speed in the direction of Calais.
The lady’s caterwauling brought several people running, and when they saw her and heard what she was shouting about, they were convinced she was telling the truth, more especially because they now assumed that the Count had long been exploiting his charm and his elegant ways for no other purpose. There followed a wild rush to the Count’s residence, with the intention of placing him under arrest. But on finding that he was not at home, they ransacked the whole of the premises and then razed them to the ground.
When the story, embroidered with various obscenities, reached the King and his son in the field, they were greatly distressed, and condemned the Count and his descendants to perpetual exile, promising huge rewards for his capture, dead or alive.
Meanwhile the Count, full of misgivings for having turned his innocence into apparent guilt by his hurried departure, arrived at Calais with his children, having succeeded in concealing his identity and escaping recognition. He then crossed rapidly to England, and proceeded, raggedly dressed, towards London. But before entering the city, he talked at great length with the two little children, laying great stress on two points in particular: first, that they must patiently support the state of poverty into which, through no fault of their own, Fortune had cast them along with their father; and second, that if they valued their lives, they must always be on their guard against telling anyone where they had come from or who their father was.
The boy, who was called Louis, was about nine years old, whilst the girl, whose name was Violante,2 was about seven, and considering their tender age, they paid the closest possible attention to their father’s instructions, as they were later to prove. In order to make their task easier, the Count decided it would be necessary to change their names, and this he did, calling the boy Perrot and the girl Jeannette. And on arriving, poorly dressed, in London, they began to go round begging for alms, in the manner of the French vagrants that we see here in Italy.
And it was when they were begging outside a church one morning, that a great lady, the wife of one of the King of England’s marshals, happened to catch sight of the Count and his two children as she was coming away from her devotions. On asking where he came from and whether the two children were his, he replied that he was from Picardy and that he was indeed their father. But he had been compelled to leave home with the children and lead a vagabond existence because of a crime that an elder son of his had committed.
The lady, who was of a kindly nature, ran her eyes over the girl and took a great liking to her, for she was a pretty little thing and had an air of gentility about her.
‘Good sir,’ said the lady. ‘If you would like to leave this little girl with me, I will gladly look after her, for she is a pretty-looking child. And if she turns out as well as she promises, when the time comes I shall arrange a good marriage for her.’
This request greatly pleased the Count, who promptly gave his consent, and with tears in his eyes he handed over his daughter, warmly commending her to the lady’s care. He was well aware of the lady’s identity, and now that he had found a good home for the child, he decided not to remain there any longer. And so, begging as he went, he made his way with Perrot to the other side of the island, finding the journey very tiring as he was unused to travelling on foot. Eventually he arrived in Wales, where there was another of the King’s marshals, a man who lived in great style and kept a large number of servants, and to this man’s castle the Count, either by himself or with his son, would frequently go in order to obtain something to eat.
There were several children at the castle, of whom some belonged to the Marshal himself and others were the sons of the local gentry, and whilst they were competing with each other in children’s sports, like running and jumping, Perrot began to mix with them, performing equally as well or better than any of the others in every game they played. His pro
wess attracted the attention of the Marshal, who, taking a great liking to the child’s manner and general behaviour, demanded to know who he was.
On being told that he was the son of a pauper who sometimes came into the castle begging for alms, the Marshal sent someone to ask whether he could keep him; and although it distressed him to part with the child, the Count, who was praying that such a thing might happen, willingly handed him over.
Now that both his son and his daughter were well bestowed, the Count decided to tarry no longer in England. So he crossed the sea to Ireland as best he could and eventually arrived at Strangford,3 where he entered the service of one of the feudatories of a rural baron, performing all the usual tasks of a groom or a servant. And there he remained for many years, unrecognized by anyone, and compelled to endure great hardship and discomfort.
Meanwhile, Violante, who was now called Jeannette, was being brought up by the gentlewoman in London, becoming a great favourite, not only of the lady and her husband, but of everyone else in the house and indeed of all those who knew her, and as she grew up she became so beautiful that she was a marvel to behold. Nor could anyone deny, on observing how impeccably she comported herself, that she deserved all the honour and blessings that her future might bring. Since receiving the girl from her father, the gentlewoman had never succeeded in discovering anything about him apart from what he had told her, and she now decided that the time had come for her to estimate the girl’s rank as best she could, and find her a suitable husband.
But knowing her to be a woman of gentle birth, doing penance for another’s sin through no fault of her own, the Lord above, who rewards all according to their deserts, arranged matters otherwise. One must in fact conclude that He alone, out of His loving kindness, made possible the train of events which followed, in order to prevent this nobly-born maiden from falling into the hands of a commoner.
The lady with whom Jeannette was living possessed an only son, who was dearly loved by both his parents, not only because he was their son but also because, being an outstandingly well-bred, talented, courageous and fine-bodied youth, he was eminently worthy of their affection. He was some six years older than Jeannette, and when he noticed how exceedingly beautiful and graceful she was becoming, he fell so deeply in love with her that he had eyes for no one else. But because he supposed her to be of low estate, he dared not ask his parents to allow him to marry her. Moreover, since he was afraid of being reproached with falling in love with a commoner, he did all he could to keep his love a secret, and thus he was afflicted with sharper pangs than any he would have suffered had he brought it into the open.
Eventually, his suffering became so acute that he fell very seriously ill. A number of physicians were summoned in turn to his bedside, but in spite of carrying out test after test on one thing after another, they were unable to diagnose his ailment, and all of them despaired of finding a cure. The boy’s father and mother were so weighed down with grief and worry that they almost collapsed under the strain. They begged him over and over again, in tones of deep affection, to tell them what was the matter, but by way of answer he would merely sigh deeply or tell them that he felt himself burning all over.
One day, he was being attended by a doctor who, though very young, was also very clever. The doctor was holding him by the wrist, taking his pulse, when Jeannette, who waited hand and foot on the invalid for his mother’s sake, entered the room in which the youth was lying. When he saw her coming in, the flames of passion flared up in the young man’s breast, and although he neither spoke nor moved, his pulse began to beat more strongly. The doctor noted this at once, but concealing his surprise he remained silent, waiting to see how long his pulse would continue to beat so rapidly.
As soon as Jeannette left the room, the young man’s pulse returned to normal, whereupon the doctor concluded that he was halfway towards solving the mystery of the youth’s illness. He waited for a while, and then, still holding his patient by the wrist, he sent for Jeannette, pretending that he wanted to ask her a question. She came at once, and no sooner did she enter the room than the youth’s pulse began to race all over again: and when she departed, it subsided.
The doctor was therefore fully confirmed in his suspicions, and having risen to his feet, he took the youth’s parents aside, saying:
‘Your son’s health cannot be restored by any doctor, for it rests in the hands of Jeannette. As I have discovered through certain unmistakable symptoms, the young man is ardently in love with her, though as far as I can tell, she herself is unaware of the fact. But you will now know what measures to apply if you want him to recover.’
On hearing this, the nobleman and his lady were greatly relieved, for at least there was now a possibility that he could be cured. But they were very disturbed at the prospect, however remote it might seem, of being forced to accept Jeannette as their daughter-in-law. So when the doctor had left, they made their way to the invalid’s bedside.
‘My son,’ said the lady, ‘I would never have imagined you capable of desiring something and not telling your mother, especially when you could see that your health was suffering through not having what you wanted. You may be quite sure, indeed you should have known all along, that I would do anything to make you happy, even if it meant stretching the rules a little. However, since you have refused to take me into your confidence, Our Heavenly Father has seen fit to intervene on your behalf, thus displaying more pity towards you than you were prepared to concede to yourself. And, so that you would not die from your malady, He has shown me the reason for this illness of yours, which turns out to be nothing more than the excessive love you bear towards some young woman or other. It was really quite unnecessary for you to feel ashamed about revealing it, for this sort of thing is perfectly natural in someone of your age. Indeed, if you were not in love, I would think very poorly of you. Do not hide things from me, my son, but acquaint me freely with all your wishes. Get rid of all the sadness and anxiety that are causing your illness, and look on the bright side of things. You can be quite certain that I will move Heaven and earth to see that you have whatever you need to make you happy, for your happiness means more to me than anything else in the world. Cast aside all your shame and your fear, and tell me what I can do to make this love of yours prosper. And if I don’t put heart and soul into it and arrange matters to your liking, you can consider me the cruellest mother that ever brought a son into the world.’
On first hearing these words, the young man was thrown into a state of confusion, but after reflecting that nobody was in a better position than his mother to procure his happiness, he conquered his embarrassment, and said:
‘If I kept my love a secret, madam, that was only because I have noticed that most people, after reaching a certain age, try to forget that they were ever young. But now that I can see what a tolerant mother you are, not only will I not deny what you claim to have noticed, but I will tell you who the girl is, on condition that you do everything in your power to keep your promise and thus make it possible for me to recover.’
The lady, being over-confident in her ability to arrange things in a way she should never have even considered, willingly replied that he should feel quite free to take her fully into his confidence. For she would take immediate steps to ensure that he obtained what he wanted.
‘Madam,’ said the youth, ‘you find me in my present condition because of the excellent beauty and impeccable manners of our Jeannette, or rather owing to my inability to make her notice, still less reciprocate, my feelings for her, and because I never dared reveal them to a living soul. And unless you can find some means of making good the promise you have given me, you may rest assured that my days are numbered.’
‘My poor boy,’ said the lady, thinking it preferable to encourage rather than reproach him. ‘What a thing to become so upset about! Now calm yourself and leave everything to me, because you are going to recover.’
Being filled with new hope, the youth very quickly showed signs of mak
ing a splendid recovery, to the immense satisfaction of his mother, who decided she would now attempt to make good her promise. So one day she took Jeannette aside, and adopting a light-hearted tone, asked her very tactfully whether she had a lover.
‘Oh, my lady,’ replied Jeannette, blushing all over. ‘It would not be at all proper for a poor girl like me, exiled from her home and living in another’s service, to indulge in such a luxury as love.’
‘Well,’ said the lady, ‘if you don’t possess a lover, we are going to give you one, so that you can lead a merry life and enjoy your beauty to the full. It isn’t right for a lovely girl like you to be without a lover.’
‘My lady,’ answered Jeannette, ‘ever since the day you took me from my father, you have brought me up as your own daughter, and therefore I ought never to oppose any of your wishes. But I can’t possibly agree to do this, and I think I am right to refuse. I intend to love no man unless he be my lawful spouse, and if you wish to present me with a husband, well and good. Since my sole remaining family heirloom is my honour, I am determined to safeguard and preserve it for as long as I live.’
Jeannette’s reply seemed to present a serious obstacle to the plans the lady had devised for keeping her promise to her son, though in her heart of hearts, being a sensible woman, she greatly admired the girl’s sentiments.
‘Come now, Jeannette,’ she said. ‘Supposing His Royal Highness the King of England, who is a dashing young nobleman, wished to enjoy the love of an exquisitely beautiful girl like yourself, would you deny it to him?’
To which Jeannette promptly replied:
‘The King could take me by force, but I would never consent freely unless his intentions were honourable.’
The lady, realizing how strong a character the girl possessed, pressed the matter no further, but decided to put her to the test. And so she informed her son that as soon as he was better, she would lock them in a room together so that he could try and bend her to his will, adding that it seemed undignified for her to go bowing and scraping on her son’s behalf, as though she were a procuress, to one of her own ladies-in-waiting.
The Decameron Page 35
