Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio

by Giovanni Boccaccio

  Upon a day, being alone by her selfe, and the time seeming suteable to her intention: shee sent for the Counte, under colour of some other important conference with him. The Counte D’Angiers, whose thoughts were quite contrary to hers: immediately went to her, where they both sitting downe together on a beds side in her Chamber, according as formerly shee had plotted her purpose; twice hee demaunded of her, upon what occasion she had thus sent for him. She sitting a long while silent, as if she had no answere to make him: pressed by the violence of her amorous passions, a vermillion tincture leaping up into her face, yet shame enforcing teares from her eyes, with words broken and halfe confused, at last she began to deliver her minde in this manner.

  Honourable Lord, and my dearely respected friend, being so wise a man as you are, it is no difficult matter for you to know, what a fraile condition is imposed both on men and women; yet (for divers occasions) much more upon the one, then the other. Wherefore desertfully, in the censure of a just and upright Judge, a fault of divers conditions (in respect of the person) ought not to be censured with one and the same punishment. Beside, who will not say, that a man or woman of poore and meane estate, having no other helpe for maintainance, but labourious travaile of their bodies should worthily receive more sharpe reprehension, in yeelding to amorous desires, or such passions as are incited by love; then a wealthy Lady whose living relieth not on her paines or cares, neither wanteth any thing that she can wish to have: I dare presume, that you your selfe will allow this to be equall and just. In which respect, I am of the minde, that the fore-named allegations, ought to serve as a sufficient excuse, yea, and to the advantage of her who is so possessed, if the passions of love should over-reach her: alwayes provided, that shee can pleade (in her owne defence) the choise of a wise and vertuous friend, answerable to her owne condition and quality, and no way to be taxed with a servile or vile election.

  These two especiall observations, allowable in my judgement, and living now in me, seazing on my youthfull blood and yeares: have found no mean inducement to love, in regard of my husbands far distance from me, medling in the rude uncivill actions of warre, when he should rather be at home in more sweet imployment. You see Sir, that these Orators advance themselves here in your presence, to acquaint you with the extremity of my over-commanding agony: and if the same power hath dominion in you, which your discretion (questionlesse) cannot be voide of; then let me entreate such advise from you, as may rather helpe, then hinder my hopes. Beleeve it then for trueth Sir, that the long absence of my husband from me, the solitary condition wherein I am left, ill agreeing with the hot blood running in my veines, & the temper of my earnest desires: have so prevailed against my strongest resistances, that not onely so weake a woman as I am, but any man of much more potent might (living in ease and idlenesse as I doe) cannot withstand such continuall assaults, having no other helpe then flesh and blood.

  Nor am I so ignorant, but publique knowledge of such an error in me, would be reputed a shrewd taxation of honesty: whereas (on the other side) secret carriage, and heedfull managing such amorous affaires, may passe for currant without any reproach. And let me tell you Noble Counte, that I repute Love highly favourable to mee, by guiding my judgement with such moderation, to make election of a wise, worthy, and honourable friend, fit to enjoy the grace of a farre greater Lady then I am, and the first letter of his name, is the Count D’Angiers. For if error have not misled mine eye, as in Love no Lady can be easily deceived: for person, perfections, and all parts most to be commended in a man, the whole Realme of France containeth not your equall. Observe beside, how forward Fortune sheweth her selfe to us both in this case, you to be destitute of a wife, as I am of an husband; for I count him as dead to me, when he denies me the duties belonging to a wife. Wherefore, in regard of the unfaigned affection I beare you, and compassion, which you ought to have of Royall Princesse, even almost sicke to death for your sake: I earnestly entreate you, not to denie me your loving society, but pittying my youth and fiery afflictions (never to be quenched but by your kindnesse) I may enjoy my hearts desire.

  As shee uttered these words, the teares streamed aboundantly downe her faire cheekes, preventing her of any further speech: so that dejecting her head into her bosome, overcome with the predominance of her passions; shee fell upon the Countes knee, whereas else shee had falne upon the ground. When hee, like a loyall and most honourable man, sharply reprehended her fonde and idle love, and when shee would have embraced him about the necke; hee repulsed her roughly from him, protesting upon his honourable reputation, that rather then hee would so wrong his Lord and Maister, he would endure a thousand deathes.

  The Lady seeing her desire disappointed, and her fond expectation utterly frustrated: grewe instantly forgetfull of her intemperate love, and falling into extremity of rage, converted her former gentle speeches, into this harsh and ruder language. Villaine (quoth shee) shall the longing comforts of my life, be abridged by thy base and scornefull deniall? Shall my destruction bee wrought by thy currish unkindnesse, and all my hoped joyes be defeated in a moment? Know slave, that I did not so earnestly desire thy sweet embracements before, but now as deadly I hate and despise them, which either thy death or banishment shall dearely pay for. No sooner had shee thus spoken, but tearing her haire, and renting her garments in pieces, shee ranne about like a distracted woman, crying out aloude: Helpe, helpe, the Count D’Angiers will forcibly dishonour mee, the lustfull Count will violence mine honour.

  D’Angiers seeing this, and fearing more the malice of the over-credulous Court, then either his owne conscience, or any dishonourable act by him committed, beleeving likewise, that her slanderous accusation would bee credited, above his true and spotlesse innocency: closely he conveyed himselfe out of the Court, making what hast hee could, home to his owne house, which being too weake for warranting his safety upon such pursuite as would be used against him, without any further advice or counsell, he seated his two children on horsebacke, himselfe also being but meanly mounted, thus away thence hee went to Calice.

  Upon the clamour and noise of the Lady, the Courtiers quickly flocked thither; and, as lies soone winne beleefe in hasty opinions, upon any silly or shallow surmise: so did her accusation passe for currant, and the Counts advancement being envied by many, made his honest carriage (in this case) the more suspected. In hast and madding fury, they ran to the Counts houses, to arrest his person, and carry him to prison: but when they could not finde him, they raced his goodly buildings downe to the ground, and used all shamefull violence to them. Now, as il newes sildome wants a speedy Messenger; so, in lesse space then you will imagine, the King and Dolphin heard thereof in the Camp, and were therewith so highly offended, that the Count had a sodaine and severe condemnation, all his progeny being sentenced with perpetuall exile, and promises of great and bountifull rewards, to such as could bring his body alive or dead.

  Thus the innocent Count, by his over-hasty and sodaine flight, made himselfe guilty of this foule imputation: and arriving at Callice with his children, their poore and homely habites, hid them from being knowne, and thence they crossed over into England, staying no where untill hee came to London. Before he would enter into the City, he gave divers good advertisements to his children, but especially two precepts above all the rest. First, with patient soules to support the poore condition, whereto Fortune (without any offence in him or them) had thus dejected them. Next, that they should have most heedfull care, at no time to disclose from whence they came, or whose children they were, because it extended to the perill of their lives. His Sonne, being named Lewes, and now about nine yeares old, his daughter called Violenta, and aged seaven yeares, did both observe their fathers direction, as afterward it did sufficiently appeare. And because they might live in the safer securitie, hee thought it for the best to change their names, calling his sonne Perotto, and his daughter Gianetta, for thus they might best escape unknowne.

  Being entred into the Citty, and in the poore estate of beggers, they crav
ed every bodies mercy and almes. It came to passe, that standing one morning at the Cathedrall Church-doore, a great Lady of England, being then wife to the Lord high Marshall, comming forth of the Church, espied the Count and his children there begging. Of him she demanded what Countrey-man he was? and whether those children were his owne, or no? The Count replyed, that he was borne in Picardy, and for an unhappy fact committed by his eldest sonne (a stripling of more hopefull expectation, then proved) hee was enforced, with those his two other children to forsake his country. The Lady being by nature very pittiful, looking advisedly on the yong Girle, beganne to grow in good liking of her; because (indeede) she was amiable, gentle, and beautifull, whereupon shee saide. Honest man, thy daughter hath a pleasing countenance, and (perhaps) her inward disposition may proove answerable to hir outward goods parts: if therefore thou canst bee content to leave her with me, I will give her entertainment, and upon her dutifull carriage and behaviour, if she live to such yeares as may require it, I will have her honestly bestowne in marriage. This motion was verie pleasing to the Count, who readily declared his willing consent thereto, and with the teares trickling downe his cheekes, in thankfull manner he delivered his prettie daughter to the Lady.

  Shee being thus happily bestowne, hee minded to tarry no longer in London; but, in his wonted begging manner, travailing thorough the Country with his sonne Perotto, at length hee came into Wales: but not without much weary paine and travell, being never used before, to journey so far on foote. There dwelt another Lord, in office of Marshalship to the King of England, whose power extended over those partes; a man of very great authority, keeping a most noble and bountifull house, which they termed the President of Wales his Court; whereto the Count and his son oftentimes resorted, as finding there good releefe and comfort. On a day, one of the Presidents sons, accompanied with divers other Gentlemens children, were performing certaine youthfull sports & pastimes, as running, leaping, and such like, wherein Perotto presumed to make one among them, excelling all the rest in such commendable manner, as none of them came any thing nere him. Divers times the President had taken notice thereof, and was so well pleased with the Lads behaviour, that he enquired, of whence he was? Answer was made, that hee was a poore mans son, that every day came for an almes to his gate.

  The President being desirous to make the boy his, the Count (whose dayly prayers were to the same purpose) frankly gave his son to the Nobleman: albeit naturall and fatherly affection, urged some unwillingnesse to part so with him; yet necessity and discretion, found it to bee for the benefit of them both. Being thus eased of care for his son and daughter, and they (though in different places) yet under good and woorthie government: the Count would continue no longer in England: but, as best he could procure the meanes, passed over into Ireland, and being arrived at a place called Stanford, became servant to an Earle of that Country, a Gentleman professing Armes, on whom he attended as a serving man, & lived a long while in that estate very painfully.

  His daughter Violenta, clouded under the borrowed name of Gianetta, dwelling with the Lady at London, grew so in yeares, beauty, comelinesse of person, and was so gracefull in the favour of her Lord and Lady, yea, of every one in the house beside, that it was wonderfull to behold. Such as but observed her usuall carriage, and what modesty shined clearely in her eyes, reputed her well worthy of honourable preferment; in which regard, the Lady that had received her of her Father, not knowing of whence, or what shee was; but as himselfe had made report, intended to match her in honourable mariage, according as her vertues worthily deserved. But God, the just rewarder of all good endeavours, knowing her to be noble by birth, and (causelesse) to suffer for the sinnes of another; disposed otherwise of her, and that so worthy a Virgin might be no mate for a man of ill conditions, no doubt ordained what was to be done, according to his owne good pleasure.

  The noble Lady, with whom poore Gianetta dwelt, had but one onely Sonne by her Husband, and he most deerely affected of them both, as well in regard hee was to be their heire, as also for his vertues and commendable qualities, wherein he excelled many young Gentlemen. Endued he was with heroycal valour, compleate in all perfections of person, and his mind every way answerable to his outward behaviour, exceeding Gianetta about sixe yeeres in age. Hee perceiving her to be a faire and comely Maiden, grew to affect her so entirely, that all things else he held contemptible, and nothing pleasing in his eye but shee. Now, in regard her parentage was reputed poore, hee kept his love concealed from his Parents, not daring to desire her in marriage: for loth hee was to loose their favour, by disclosing the vehemency of his afflictions, which proved a greater torment to him, then if it had beene openly knowne.

  It came to passe, that love over-awed him in such sort, as he fell into a violent sicknesse, and score of Physicions were sent for, to save him from death, if possibly it might be. Their judgements observing the course of his sicknesse, yet not reaching to the cause of the disease, made a doubtfull question of his recovery; which was so displeasing to his parents, that their griefe and sorrow grew beyond measure. Many earnest entreaties they moved to him, to know the occasion of his sicknesse, whereto he returned no other answer, but heart-breaking sighes, and incessant teares, which drew him more and more into weakenesse of body.

  It chanced on a day, a Physicion was brought unto him, being young in yeeres, but well experienced in his practise, and as hee made triall of his pulse, Gianetta (who by his Mothers command, attended on him very diligently) upon some especial occasion entred into the Chamber, which when the young Gentleman perceived, and that shee neither spake word, nor so much as looked towards him, his heart grew great in amorous desire, and his pulse did beate beyond the compasse of ordinary custome; whereof the Physicion made good observation, to note how long that fit would continue. No sooner was Gianetta gone forth of the Chamber, but the pulse immediately gave over beating, which perswaded the Physicion, that some part of the disease had now discovered it selfe apparantly.

  Within a while after, pretending to have some speech with Gianetta, and holding the Gentleman still by the arme, the Physicion caused her to be sent for, and immediately shee came. Upon her very entrance into the Chamber, the pulse began to beate againe extreamely, and when shee departed, it presently ceased. Now was he thorowly perswaded, that hee had found the true effect of his sicknesse; when taking the Father and mother aside, thus he spake to them. If you be desirous of your Sons health, it consisteth not either in Physicion or physicke, but in the mercy of your faire Maide Gianetta; for manifest signes have made it knowne to me, and he loveth the Damosell very dearely: yet (for ought I can perceive, the Maide doth not know it) now if you have respect of his life, you know (in this case) what is to be done. The Nobleman and his Wife hearing this, became somewhat satisfied, because there remained a remedy to preserve his life: but yet it was no meane griefe to them, if it should so succeede, as they feared, namely, the marriage betweene their Sonne and Gianetta.

  The Physicion being gone, and they repairing to their sicke Sonne, the Mother began with him in this manner. Sonne, I was alwayes perswaded, that thou wouldest not conceale any secret from me, or the least part of thy desires; especially, when without enjoying them, thou must remaine in the danger of death. Full well art thou assured, or in reason oughtest to be, that there is not any thing for thy contentment, be it of what quality soever, but it should have beene provided for thee, and in as ample manner as for mine owne selfe. But though thou hast wandred so farre from duty, and hazarded both thy life and ours, it commeth so to passe, that Heaven hath been more mercifull to thee, then thou wouldest be to thy selfe or us. And to prevent thy dying of this disease, a dreame this night hath acquainted me with the principall occasion of thy sickenesse, to wit, extraordinary affection to a young Maiden, in some such place as thou hast seene her. I tell thee Sonne, it is a matter of no disgrace to love, and why shouldst thou shame to manifest as much, it being so apt and convenient for thy youth? For if I were perswaded, that thou couldst not love, I s
hould make the lesse esteeme of thee. Therefore deare Sonne, be not dismayed, but freely discover thine affections. Expel those disastrous drouping thoughts, that have indangered thy life by this long lingering sicknesse. And let thy soule be faithfully assured, that thou canst not require any thing to be done, remaining within the compasse of my power, but I will performe it; for I love thee as dearely as mine owne life. Set therefore aside this nice conceit of shame and feare, revealing the truth boldly to me, if I may stead thee in thy love; resolving thy selfe unfaignedly, that if my care stretch not to compasse thy content, account me for the most cruell Mother living, and utterly unworthy of such a Sonne.

  The young Gentleman having heard these protestations made by his Mother, was not a little ashamed of his owne follie; but recollecting his better thoughts together, and knowing in his soule, that no one could better further his hopes, then shee; forgetting all his former feare, he returned her this answere; Madam, and my dearely affected Mother, nothing hath more occasioned my loves so strict concealement, but an especiall error, which I finde by daily proofe in many, who being growne to yeeres of grave discretion, doe never remember, that they themselves have bin yong. But because heerein I find you to be both discreet and wise, I will not onely affirme, what you have seen in me to be true, but also will confesse, to whom it is: upon condition, that the effect of your promise may follow it, according to the power remaining in you, whereby you onely may secure my life.