THE FOURTH STORY
[Day the Third]
DOM FELICE TEACHETH FRA PUCCIO HOW HE MAY BECOME BEATIFIED BY PERFORMING A CERTAIN PENANCE OF HIS FASHION, WHICH THE OTHER DOTH, AND DOM FELICE MEANWHILE LEADETH A MERRY LIFE OF IT WITH THE GOOD MAN'S WIFE
Filomena, having made an end of her story, was silent and Dioneohaving with dulcet speech mightily commended the lady's shrewdness andeke the prayer with which Filomena had concluded, the queen turnedwith a smile to Pamfilo and said, "Come, Pamfilo, continue ourdiversion with some pleasant trifle." Pamfilo promptly answered thathe would well and began thus: "Madam, there are many persons who, whatwhile they study to enter Paradise, unwittingly send others thither;the which happened, no great while since, to a neighbour of ours, asyou shall hear.
According to that which I have heard tell, there abode near SanPancrazio an honest man and a rich, called Puccio di Rinieri, who,devoting himself in his latter days altogether to religious practices,became a tertiary[160] of the order of St. Francis, whence he wasstyled Fra Puccio, and ensuing this his devout life, much frequentedthe church, for that he had no family other than a wife and one maidand consequently, it behoved him not apply himself to any craft. Beingan ignorant, clod-pated fellow, he said his paternosters, went topreachments and attended mass, nor ever failed to be at the Laudschanted by the seculars,[161] and fasted and mortified himself; nay,it was buzzed about that he was of the Flagellants.[162] His wife,whose name was Mistress Isabetta,[163] a woman, yet young, ofeight-and-twenty to thirty years of age, fresh and fair and plump as alady-apple, kept, by reason of the piety and belike of the age of herhusband, much longer and more frequent fasts than she could havewished, and when she would have slept or maybe frolicked with him, herecounted to her the life of Christ and the preachments of FraNastagio or the Complaint of Mary Magdalene or the like. Meantimethere returned home from Paris a monk hight Dom[164] Felice,Conventual[165] of San Pancrazio, who was young and comely enough ofperson, keen of wit and a profound scholar, and with him Fra Pucciocontracted a strait friendship. And for that this Dom Felice rightwell resolved him his every doubt and knowing his pious turn of mind,made him a show of exceeding devoutness, Fra Puccio fell to carryinghim home bytimes and giving him to dine and sup, as the occasionoffered; and the lady also, for her husband's sake, became familiarwith him and willingly did him honour. The monk, then, continuing tofrequent Fra Puccio's house and seeing the latter's wife so fresh andplump, guessed what should be the thing whereof she suffered the mostdefault and bethought himself, an he might, to go about to furnish herwithal himself, and so spare Fra Puccio fatigue. Accordingly, craftilycasting his eyes on her, at one time and another, he made shift tokindle in her breast that same desire which he had himself, which whenhe saw, he bespoke her of his wishes as first occasion betided him.But, albeit he found her well disposed to give effect to the work, hecould find no means thereunto, for that she would on nowise trustherself to be with him in any place in the world save her own house,and there it might not be, seeing that Fra Puccio never went withoutthe town. At this the monk was sore chagrined; but, after muchconsideration, he hit upon a device whereby he might avail toforegather with the lady in her own house, without suspect, for allFra Puccio should be at home. Accordingly, the latter coming one dayto visit him, he bespoke him thus, 'I have many a time understood, FraPuccio, that all thy desire is to become a saint and to this endmeseemeth thou goest about by a long road, whereas there is anotherand a very short one, which the Pope and the other great prelates, whoknow and practise it, will not have made known, for that the clergy,who for the most part live by alms, would incontinent be undone,inasmuch as the laity would no longer trouble themselves to propitiatethem with alms or otherwhat. But, for that thou art my friend and hastvery honourably entertained me, I would teach it thee, so I wereassured thou wouldst practise it and wouldst not discover it to anyliving soul.' Fra Puccio, eager to know the thing, began straightwayto entreat him with the utmost instancy that he would teach it him andthen to swear that never, save in so far as it should please him,would he tell it to any, engaging, an if it were such as he mightavail to follow, to address himself thereunto. Whereupon quoth themonk, 'Since thou promisest me this, I will e'en discover it to thee.Thou must know that the doctors of the church hold that it behovethwhoso would become blessed to perform the penance which thou shalthear; but understand me aright; I do not say that, after the penance,thou wilt not be a sinner like as thou presently art; but this willbetide, that the sins which thou hast committed up to the time of thepenance will all by virtue thereof be purged and pardoned unto thee,and those which thou shalt commit thereafterward will not be writtento thy prejudice, but will pass away with the holy water, as venialsins do now. It behoveth a man, then, in the first place, whenas hecometh to begin the penance, to confess himself with the utmostdiligence of his sins, and after this he must keep a fast and a verystrict abstinence for the space of forty days, during which timethou[166] must abstain from touching, not to say other women, but eventhine own wife. Moreover, thou must have in thine own house some placewhence thou mayst see the sky by night, whither thou must betakethyself towards the hour of complines,[167] and there thou must have awide plank set up, on such wise that, standing upright, thou maystlean thy loins against it and keeping thy feet on the ground, stretchout thine arms, crucifix fashion. An thou wouldst rest them upon somepeg or other, thou mayst do it, and on this wise thou must abidegazing upon the sky, without budging a jot, till matins. Wert thou ascholar, thou wouldst do well to repeat certain orisons I would givethee; but, as thou art it not, thou must say three hundredPaternosters and as many Ave Marys, in honour of the Trinity, andlooking upon heaven, still have in remembrance that God is the Creatorof heaven and earth and the passion of Christ, abiding on such wise asHe abode on the cross. When the bell ringeth to matins, thou mayst, anthou wilt, go and cast thyself, clad as thou art, on thy bed andsleep, and after, in the forenoon, betake thyself to church and therehear at least three masses and repeat fifty Paternosters and as manyAves; after which thou shalt with a single heart do all and sundrythine occasions, if thou have any to do, and dine and at evensong bein church again and there say certain orisons which I will give theeby writ and without which it cannot be done. Then, towards complines,do thou return to the fashion aforesaid, and thus doing, even as Ihave myself done aforetime, I doubt not but, ere thou come to the endof the penance, thou wilt, (provided thou shalt have performed it withdevoutness and compunction,) feel somewhat marvellous of eternalbeatitude.' Quoth Fra Puccio, 'This is no very burdensome matter, noryet overlong, and may very well be done; wherefore I purpose in God'sname to begin on Sunday.' Then, taking leave of him and returninghome, he related everything in due order to his wife, having theother's permission therefor. The lady understood very well what themonk meant by bidding him stand fast without stirring till matins;wherefore, the device seeming to her excellent, she replied that shewas well pleased therewith and with every other good work that he didfor the health of his soul and that, so God might make the penanceprofitable to him, she would e'en fast with him, but do no more. Theybeing thus of accord and Sunday come, Fra Puccio began his penance andmy lord monk, having agreed with the lady, came most evenings to supwith her, bringing with him store of good things to eat and drink, andafter lay with her till matinsong, when he arose and took himself off,whilst Fra Puccio returned to bed. Now the place which Fra Puccio hadchosen for his penance adjoined the chamber where the lady lay and wasparted therefrom but by a very slight wall, wherefore, Master Monkwantoning it one night overfreely with the lady and she with him, itseemed to Fra Puccio that he felt a shaking of the floor of the house.Accordingly, having by this said an hundred of his Paternosters, hemade a stop there and without moving, called to his wife to know whatshe did. The lady, who was of a waggish turn and was then belikeastride of San Benedetto his beast or that of San Giovanni Gualberto,answered, 'I' faith, husband mine, I toss as most I may.' 'How?'quoth Fra Puccio. 'Thou tossest? What
meaneth this tossing?' The lady,laughing, for that she was a frolicsome dame and doubtless had causeto laugh, answered merrily; 'How? You know not what it meaneth? Why, Ihave heard you say a thousand times, "Who suppeth not by night musttoss till morning light."' Fra Puccio doubted not but that the fastingwas the cause of her unableness to sleep and it was for this shetossed thus about the bed; wherefore, in the simplicity of his heart,'Wife,' said he, 'I told thee not to fast; but, since thou wouldste'en do it, think not of that, but address thyself to rest; thougivest such vaults about the bed that thou makest all in the placeshake.' 'Have no care for that,' answered the lady; 'I know what I amabout; do you but well, you, and I will do as well as I may.' FraPuccio, accordingly, held his peace and betook himself anew to hisPaternosters; and after that night my lord monk and the lady let makea bed in another part of the house, wherein they abode in the utmostjoyance what while Fra Puccio's penance lasted. At one and the samehour the monk took himself off and the lady returned to her own bed,whereto a little after came Fra Puccio from his penance; and on thiswise the latter continued to do penance, whilst his wife did herdelight with the monk, to whom quoth she merrily, now and again, 'Thouhast put Fra Puccio upon performing a penance, whereby we have gottenParadise.' Indeed, the lady, finding herself in good case, took such aliking to the monk's fare, having been long kept on low diet by herhusband, that, whenas Fra Puccio's penance was accomplished, she stillfound means to feed her fill with him elsewhere and using discretion,long took her pleasure thereof. Thus, then, that my last words may notbe out of accord with my first, it came to pass that, whereas FraPuccio, by doing penance, thought to win Paradise for himself, he puttherein the monk, who had shown him the speedy way thither, and hiswife, who lived with him in great lack of that whereof Dom Felice,like a charitable man as he was, vouchsafed her great plenty."
[Footnote 160: _i.e._ a lay brother or affiliate.]
[Footnote 161: _i.e._ the canticles of praise chanted by certain layconfraternities, established for that purpose and answering to ourprae-Reformation Laudsingers.]
[Footnote 162: An order of lay penitents, who were wont at certaintimes to go masked about the streets, scourging themselves inexpiation of the sins of the people. This expiatory practice wasparticularly prevalent in Italy in the middle of the thirteenthcentury.]
[Footnote 163: Contraction of Elisabetta.]
[Footnote 164: _Dom_, contraction of Dominus (lord), the titlecommonly given to the beneficed clergy in the middle ages, answeringto our _Sir_ as used by Shakespeare (_e.g._ Sir Hugh Evans the WelshParson, Sir Topas the Curate, etc.). The expression survives in thetitle _Dominie_ (_i.e._ Domine, voc. of Dominus) still familiarlyapplied to schoolmasters, who were of course originally invariablyclergymen.]
[Footnote 165: A Conventual is a member of some monastic orderattached to the regular service of a church, or (as would nowadays besaid) a "beneficed" monk.]
[Footnote 166: _Sic._ This confusion of persons constantly occurs inBoccaccio, especially in the conversational parts of the Decameron, inwhich he makes the freest use of the various forms of enallage and ofother rhetorical figures, such as hyperbaton, synecdoche, etc., to theno small detriment of his style in the matter of clearness.]
[Footnote 167: _i.e._ nine o'clock p.m.]
The Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio Page 29
