And having thus said, she took with her delicate hand the offered garland, and therewithal crowned her head. She then commanded that each one, upon pain to be deprived of the amorous joys, should prepare to forth some question, the which might be apt and convenient to the purpose whereof they did intend to treat, and such a one as it should rather be an increaser of mirth than through too great subtlety or otherwise, a destroyer of the same.
CHAPTER 2. THE FIRST QUESTION, PROPOSED BY PHILOCOPO
ON THE RIGHT hand of the queen sat Philocopo, to whom she said: “Noble sir, you shall begin to propound your question to the end that the rest, orderly as we are here placed, may after you with more suretie propound theirs also.”
To whom Philocopo thus made answer: “Most noble lady, without any delay I shall obey your commandment.” And thus he said:
I do remember that in the city wherein I was born, there was one day made a bountiful great feast, whereat to honour the same were many gentlemen and gentlewomen. And I that was there likewise, roaming about and beholding them that were in the place, espied among the rest two young gentlemen very gracious to behold, that earnestly eyed an exceedingly fair woman. Neither was I any ways able to discern which of them her beauty had most inflamed. And as she in like sort had a good space beheld them, not making greater semblance to the one than to the other, they between themselves began to reason of her. And among the other words that I understood of their talk, was that each one said that he was her best beloved; and for proof thereof either of them alleged in the furtherance of himself divers gestures then before done by the young woman.
And they thus remaining in this contention a long time, being now through many words at daggers drawing, they acknowledged that herein they did very evil, because in thus doing they wrought hurt and shame to themselves and displeasure to the woman. Wherefore (moved of an equal agreement) both two went unto the mother of the maid, who was also at the same feast, and thus said unto her: That forasmuch as above all other women of the world either of them best liked her daughter, and that they were at contention which of them was best liked of her, it would therefor please her to grant them this favour, to the end no greater inconvenience might spring thereof, as to will her daughter that she either by word or deed would show which of them she best loved.
The entreated gentlewoman smiling thus answered: Willingly. And so calling her daughter to her, said: “My fair daughter, each one of these prefers the love of you above the love of himself. And in this contention they are, which of them is best beloved of you. And they seek of me this favour, that you either by signs or word resolve them herein. And therefor to the end that love, from whom all peace and goodness ought always to spring, breed not now the contrary, content them in this and with gentle courtesy shew towards which of them you mind is most bent.”
The young damsel said: “It liketh me right well.” And so beholding them both a while she saw the one of them to have upon his head a fair garland of fresh flowers, and the other to stand without any garland at all. Then she, that had likewise upon her head a garland of green leaves, first took the same from her head and set it upon his that stood before her without a garland. And after she took that which the other young man had upon his head and set the same upon hers; and so leaving them she returned to the feast, saying that she had both performed the commandment of her mother and also their desire.
The young men being thus left, returned also to their former contention, each one affirming that she loved him best. He whose garland she took and set upon her head said: “Assuredly she loves me best because she has taken my garland to none other end but for that what mine is pleases her, and to give occasion to be beholden unto me. But to you she has given hers, as it were in place of her last farewell, unwilling that like a country girl the love which you bear her be without requittal; and therefore lastly she gives you that garland you had merited.”
The other replying with the contrary thus answered: “Truly she loves that yours is better than you, and that may be seen in her taking thereof. And me she loves better than what mine is inasmuch as she has given me of hers; and therefor it is no token of her last deserved gift, as you affirm, but rather a beginning of amity and love. A gift makes the receiver a subject to the giver; and because she peradventure uncertain of me, to the end she might be more certain to have me her subject, will bind me (if perhaps I were not bound unto her before) to be hers by gift. But how may you think, if she at the first takes away from you, that ever she may vouchsafe to give?”
And thus they abode a long time contending, and in the end departed without any definition at all. Now say I, most puissant queen, if you should be demanded of the last sentence of such a contention, what would you judge?
The fair lady somewhat smiling turned towards Philocopo her eyes sparkling with an amorous light, and after a soft sigh thus made answer.
“Most noble youth, proper is your question; and truly, as very wisely the young woman behaved herself so each one of the young men right well defended his cause. But because you require what we lastly will judge thereof, thus we make you answer: It seems unto us and so it ought to seem to each one that takes good heed, that the woman had in hate neither the one nor the other, but to keep her intent covert did two contrary acts, as appears, and not without occasion. And to the end she might get more assured the love of him whom she loved, as not to lose the love of the other whom she hated not, it was but wisely done. But to come to our question, which is, to which of the two greatest love was shewed.
“We say that she loved him best and he chiefest in her favour to whom she gave her garland. And this seems to be the reason: Whatsoever man or woman that loves any person, each one through force of the love they bear is so strongly bound to the person loved that above all other things they desire to please the same. Neither to bind him or her more strongly that thus loves needs either gifts or services; and this is manifest.
“And yet we see, that whoso loves, though he endeavour himself sundry ways, is not able to make the person loved in any sort benign and subject unto him, whereby he may bring it to his pleasure and so with a more bold face demand his desire. And that this is in such sort as we say, the inflamed Dido with her doings does very well manifest the same unto us. Burning in the love of Aeneas, so long as it seemed her neither with honours nor with gifts able to win him, had not the courage to attempt the doubtful way of asking the question. So that then the young woman sought to make him most beholden unto her whom she best loved. And thus we say that he that received the gift of the garland was her best beloved.”
As the queen became silent Philocopo answered: “Discreet lady, greatly is your answer to be commended. But for all that you do bring me into a great admiration of that you have defined touching the propounded question, because I would have judged rather the contrary. For so much as generally among lovers this was the wonted custom, that is, to desire to bear upon them some jewel or some other thing of the person’s loved, to the end that most times they might glory themselves more therein than in all the remnant they had; and perceiving the same about them therewith to gladden their minds as you have heard.
“Paris seldom times or never entered into the bloody battles against the Greeks without bearing some token upon him that had been given him by his Helen, believing better to prevail therewith than if he had gone without the same. And truly, in mine opinion, his thought was not vain. Therefor I should thus say (that as you said) the young woman did very wisely, not defining it for all that as you have done, but in this manner: She, knowing that she was very well loved of two young men and that she could not love more than one, for that love is an indivisible thing, she would reward the one for the love he bore her to the end that such good will should not be unrewarded, and so give him her garland in requittal thereof. To the other, whom she loved, she thought she would give courage and assured hope of her love, taking his garland and decking herself therewith, in token whereof she plainly shewed to be beholden unto him for t
he same. And therefor in my judgment, she loved him better from whom she took than him to whom she gave.”
To whom the queen thus made answer: “Your argument should have pleased us right well if yourself in your tale had not condemned the same. See how pillage and perfect love can agree together. How can you shew me that we love him whom we despoil better than him to whom we give? According to the question propounded, to the one she gave a garland and from the other she took a garland; neither had he unto whom she gave aught to give her. And that which we see every day, for example may here suffice. As is commonly said: They are of gentlemen far better loved on whom they bestow favour and gifts than those that are by them deprived of them. And for that cause we lastly hold opinion, concluding that he is better loved to whom is given than he from whom is taken.
“We know very well that in these our reasonings much might be objected against this our definition, and much also answered to the contrary reasons, but lastly such determination shall remain true. And because time now serves not to stay with this our talk upon matter only without more, we will give ear to the rest if it please you.”
To whom Philocopo said that it pleased him right well, and that very well sufficed such a resolution to his demanded question; and so held his peace.
CHAPTER 3. THE SECOND QUESTION, PROPOSED BY PARMENIO
PARMENIO SAT NEXT, and without attending further, as the queen had left, thus began:
Most mighty queen, I was of long time companion with a young gentleman to whom that happened which I intend to shew.
He as much as any man could love a woman, loved a fair young gentlewoman of our city, gracious, gentle and very rich, both of wealth and parents, and she also loved him for aught that I (to whom his love was discovered) could understand.
This gentleman then loved her in most secret sort, fearing that if it should be betrayed that he should no ways be able to speak unto her. To the end therefor that he might discover his intent and be certified likewise of hers, he trusted no one that should attempt to speak of this matter. Yet his desire enforcing him, he purposed since he could not betray himself unto her, to make her understand by some other that which he suffered for her sake.
And bethinking him many days by whom he might most closely signify unto her that his intent, he saw one day a poor old woman, wrinkled out of an orange tawny colour, so despiteful to behold as none the like, the which being entered the house of the young woman to ask her alms, followed forth of the door, and many times after in like sort, and for like occasion he saw her return thither. In this woman his heart gave him to repose his whole trust imagining that he should never be had in suspicion and that she might fully bring his desire to effect. Therefor calling her to him, he promised her great gifts if she would help him in that which he should demand of her. She swore to do her endeavour, to whom this gentleman then discovered his mind.
The old woman departed and after a while, having certified the young woman of the love that my companion bare her, and him likewise that she above all other things of the world did love him, she devised how this young man should be secretly one evening with the desired woman.
And so he going before her, as she had appointed, she guided him to this young gentlewoman’s house, wherein he was no sooner entered than through his misfortune the young woman, the old and he, were all three found and taken together by the brethren of the woman and compelled to tell the truth of that they made there, who confessed the whole matter as it was.
These brethren, for that they were the friends of this gentleman, and knowing that he as yet had attained nothing that might redound to their shame, would not do him any harm as they might have done. But laughing, said to him in this sort: “You are now in our hands and have sought to dishonour us, and for that we may punish you if we will. Of these two ways see that you take the one: either that you will we take your life from you, or else that you stay with this old woman and this our sister, either of them one year, swearing faithfully that if you shall take upon you to be with either of them a year, and the first year with the young woman, that as many times as you shall kiss or have to do with her, as many times shall you kiss and have to do with the old woman the second year. And if you shall take the first year the old woman look how many times you shall kiss and touch her so many times likewise and neither more nor less shall you do the like to the young woman the second year.”
The young man listening to the sentence and desiring to live, said that he would be with these two two years. It was granted him. But he remained in doubt with which of them he should first begin, either with the young or with the old. Whether of them would you give counsel he should first for his most consolation withal?
The queen and likewise the whole company somewhat smiled at this tale, and after she thus made answer:
“According to our judgment the young gentleman ought rather to take the fair young woman than the foul old. Because no present good turn ought to be left for the future, neither the evil to be taken for the future good, because we know that we are uncertain of things to come. And in doing the contrary hereof many have already sorrowed too late, and if any have praised himself herein, not duty but fortune has therein helped him. Let the fair therefor to be the first taken.”
“You make me greatly to marvel,” said Parmenio, “seeing that the present good ought not to be left for the future. To what end then is it convenient for us with a valiant mind to follow and bear worldly troubles, whereas we may flee them if it were not through the future eternal kingdoms promised to us through hope? It is a marvelous thing that such a shock of people as are in the world, all moiling to the end that one time to taste of rest, and being able to rest before trouble, should remain so long while in such an error as trouble after rest were better than before.
“It is a thing very just (as it seems unto me) after troubles to seek rest; but to desire to rest without trouble in my judgment ought not to be, neither can it bring delight. Who then will give counsel to any that he lie first with a fair gentlewoman one year, the which is the only rest and joy of him that must stay with her, in shewing him after that there must follow so great annoy and unpleasant life as he must in every act, wherein he abode with the young woman, have to do as long with a loathesome old woman?
“Nothing is so noisome to a delightful life as to remember that after death we shall be found spotted. This death return to our memory as enemy contrary to our being, does disturb us of all goodness and pleasure. And while this is remembered there can never be joy tasted in worldly things. Likewise no delight can be had with the young woman that is not troubled or destroyed in thinking and remembering that it behoove him to do as much with a most vile old woman, who shall always be remaining before the eyes of his mind. The time that flies with an inestimable wing shall seem unto him to overfly, lessening each day a great quantity of the due hours. And this mirth is not tasted whereas infallible future sorrow is tarried for.
“Wherefor I would judge that the contrary were better counsel, that is, that all trouble whereof gracious rest is hoped for, is more delightful than the delight whereof annoy is tarried for. The cold waters seemed warm and the dreadful time of the dark night seemed clear and sound day and turmoils rest, to Leander, at what time he went to Hero, swimming with the force of his arms through the salt surges between Sestus and Abydos, for the delight that he conceived to have of her tarrying his coming.
“God forbid then that a man should covet rest before travel, or reward before the doing his service or delight before he has tasted tribulation. For as much as if that way (as we have already said) should be taken, the future annoy should so much hinder the present joy that not joy, but rather annoy it might be said. What delight could the delicate meats and instruments sounded with cunning hand and the other marvelous joys made to Dionysus the tyrant bring when as he saw a sharp-pointed sword hang by a fine thread over his head? Let then sorrowful occasions be first fled, that afterward with pleasure and that without suspicion gracious delights ma
y be followed.”
The queen made him answer saying: “You answer in part as though we did reason of eternal joys, for the purchasing whereof there is no doubt but that all troubles ought to be taken in hand, and all worldly wealth and delight to be left apart. But at this instance we do not speak of them but do move a question of worldly delights and of worldly annoys. Whereunto we answer as we said before, that every worldly delight that is followed with worldly annoy ought rather to be taken than the worldly annoy that tarries worldly delight. Because who that has time, and tarries time, loves time. Fortune grants her goodness with sundry mutations, the which is rather to be taken whenas she gives than to moil to the end after turmoils to get the same. If her wheel stood firm and stable until that a man had toiled so much as he should need to toil no more, we would then say that it were to be granted to take pains first. But who is certain that after the evil may not follow the worst, as well as the better that is tarried for?
“The times, together with worldly things, are all transitory, and therefor in taking the old woman before the year complete, the which shall never seem to wax less, the young woman may die, and her brethren repent them of this they have done; or else she may be given to some other, or peradventure stolen away; so that after one evil there shall follow a worse to the taker.
“But contrary-wise, if the young woman be taken, the taker shall thereby have his desire so long time of him desired, neither shall thereafter follow the annoy of thought that you say must follow thereby, because that we must die infallible. But to stay with an old woman is a thing able enough with many remedies to be of a wise man avoided, and worldly things are to be taken of the discreet with this condition, that each one while he holds and enjoys them he dispose himself with a liberal mind when he shall be required to restore or leave them.
Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio Page 350
