Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio

by Giovanni Boccaccio

  “Who that busys himself to the end to rest brings a manifest example, that without that he cannot have rest. And since he therefor takes troubles to the end to have rest, how much more is it to be presumed that if rest were as ready as trouble but that he would sooner take that than this? Neither is to be thought that Leander, if he had been able to have had Hero without passing the tempestuous arm of the sea, whereinafter he perished, would not rather have taken her than have swum the same. It is convenient to take fortune’s chances what times she gives them.

  “For no gift is so small that is not better than a promised greater. And as for future things, let remedies be taken and the present governed according to their qualities. It is a natural thing to desire rather the good than the evil, whenas equally they concur, and who that does the contrary follows not natural reason but his own folly. We confess that after troubles quietness is more gracious and better known than before, but yet not that it is rather to be taken than the other. It is possible for wise men and fools to use the counsels both of fools and wise men according to their liking. But for all that the infallible verity is not altered, the which does give us leave to see that rather the fair young woman than the loathesome old is to be taken of him, to whom was made such a choice.”

  CHAPTER 4. THE THIRD QUESTION, PROPOSED BY A YOUNG GENTLEWOMAN

  ON THE RIGHT side of Longano sat an excellent fair gentlewoman, and very pleasant, who as she perceived the question by the queen determined, thus began with a sweet voice to say:

  Most renowned queen, your ears grant hearing to my words, and first by those gods whom you worship, and next by the power of our pastime, I pray you that you will give to my demands profitable counsel.

  I as you know, being descended of noble parents, was born in this city and was named with a very gracious name, although my surname (being Cara) presents me grateful to the ears and as by my face it may appear, I have received from the gods and nature, a singular gift of beauty, the which I now have (in following my proper name more than my surname) I have adorned with an infinite pleasantness showing myself benign to whom that is delighted to behold the same. By occasion whereof many have endeavored themselves for their pleasure to occupy my eyes, against all whom I have withstood with strong resistance, holding a stable heart against their assaults. But because it seems to me unlawful that I only should ignore the laws kept and observed of all others, that is, not to love being loved of many, I have determined to become enamoured; and setting apart many seekers of such love, whereof some do excell Midas in riches, some others pass Absolom in beauty, and others some in courtesy (according to the common report of all) are more splendid than any other, I have of all these chosen three, of whom each one pleases me alike.

  Of the which three the one of bodily force (as I believe) would excell the good Hector, he is at every proof so vigorous and strong. The courtesy and liberality of the second is such that (as I think) his frame does sound to each pole. That the third is all full of wisdom so that he surmounts all other wise men above measure.

  But for that (as ye have heard) their qualities are divers, I doubt which of them to take, finding in the antique age each one of these to have diversely the courages of women and of yielding men; as of Dianira, Hercules, of our Clytemnestra, Egistus and of Lucretius Sextus.

  Counsel me therefore to which of the soonest would least blame and greater surety I ought to give myself.

  The pleasant queen having heard the purpose of this gentlewoman, thus made answer: “There is never a one of the three that does not worthily merit the love of a fair and gracious lady. But because in this case I am not to fight against castles or to give away the kingdoms of great Alexander or the treasures of Ptolomey, but that only that love and honour are with discretion a long time to be kept, the which are maintained neither by force nor courtesy, but only by wisdom, we say that both you and every other woman ought rather to give her love to a wise man than any of the rest.”

  “Oh how different is my judgment from yours,” answered the gentlewoman, “to me it seems that each one of the others were sooner to be taken than the wise. And this seems to be the reason: Love (as we see) is of that nature as multiplying his force in one heart every other thing he vanishes out thence, retaining that for his seat and moving it according to his pleasure; whereunto no foresight is able to resist but that it is convenient for them to follow him, by whom it is (as I have said) governed. And who doubts that Byblis knew it not to be evil to love her brother? Who will gainsay that it was not manifest to Leander that he might drown in Hellespont in his fortunate time if he cast himself therein? And none will deny that Pasiphae knew not a man to be more fair than a bull? And yet they and each one overcome with an amorous pleasure, rejecting all knowledge, followed the same. Then if it has power to take knowledge from the learned, taking away the wit from the wise, they shall have nothing left. But if from the strong and courteous it shall take away the little wit they have, it shall yet increase them in their virtues, and so they shall become more than the wise enamoured. Further, love has this property: it is a thing that cannot long be hid, and in revealing himself he is wont oftimes to bring grievous perils, whereto what remedy shall the wise give that has now lost his wit? He shall give none at all. But the strong that useth his force can help in a peril both himself and others. The courteous through his courtesy shall with grateful benevolence win the minds of many, whereby he may be both helped and considered, and others also for his sake. See now what it is to be of your judgment.”

  She was by the queen answered thus: “If, there was such a one as you speak of, who should then be wise? Not one. But if he whom you propound wise and enamoured of you should be made a fool, he is not to be taken. The gods forbid that that whereof you speak should come to pass. And yet we will not deny but that the wise know the evil and do it. But for all that we will say that they thereby lose not their wit, forasmuch as what time it pleases them with the reason they have to bridle their wills, they will reduce themselves to their accustomed wit, guiding their motions in a due and straight order. And in this manner their love shall be altogether or at the least a long time kept secret; and that without any doubtful diligence the which shall not happen to one of little wit, be he never so strong or courteous. And yet if perhaps it does happen, that such love be discovered, a wise man will with a hundred foresights shut up the eyes and understanding of the tatlers thereof, and shall provide a safety both for his own honour and the honour of his loved lady. And if need of safety be, the help of the wise cannot fail. That of the strong comes less. And the friends that are gotten by liberality are accustomed in adversity to shrink away. What is she of so little discretion that is brought to such a pass as has need of manifest help? or that if her love be disclosed seeks same in having loved a strong or liberal man? I believe there is none such. Let the wise then be soonest loved, hoping that he must be in each case more worthy than any of the rest.”

  CHAPTER 5. THE FOURTH QUESTION, PROPOSED BY MENEDON

  THE GENTLEWOMAN BY her countenance, seemed content, when Menedon, sitting next to her side, said:

  “Most high and noble queen, now it is come unto my turn to propound my question here in your presence. Wherefore by your license if in my talk I shall be very long, yet during the same I shall first of all of you, and next of the standers-about, pray pardon. Because ye cannot be made fully to understand that which I intend to propound unless a tale that peradventure shall not be short, do precede the same.” And after these words thus he began to say:

  In the country where I was born I remember there was a noble knight, surpassing rich, the which loved in most loyal love, a noble gentlewoman, born likewise there, whom he took to wife. Of whom being as she was exceeding fair, another knight, called Tarolfo, was after enamoured and with so great good will loved her as he saw nothing he more desired than her. And in sundry sorts, now with passing before her house, now jousting, now at the barriers, now with the often sending her messages, peradventure promising h
er great gifts whereby she might know his intent, and now with other like feats, he endeavoured himself to purchase her love.

  All which things the lady closely supported without giving sign or good answer unto the knight, saying to herself: “Whenas this knight shall discover that he can have neither answer nor yet good countenance of me, perhaps he will forbear any further either to love me or to give me these allurements.”

  Now for all this Tarolfo ceased not, following the precepts of Ovid, who says that a man must not through the hardness of a woman leave to persevere because with continuance the soft water pierces the hard stone. The lady, doubting lest these things should come to the ears of her husband, and that he should believe that the same happened through her good will, purposed to let him understand the same.

  But yet after being persuaded through better advicement, she said: “I might, if I tell him, make such a brawl between them as I should never after live a merry life, and therefore he must be shaken off by some other means.”

  And so she imagined a trim guile. She sent to Tarolfo, saying that if he loved her so well as he made show of, she would require one thing at his hands; the which if she received she swore by her gods and by that loyalty that ought to be in a gentlewoman, that she would accomplish all his desire. And if he would not give her what she required, he should then content himself, no further to allure her hereafter but in what he would be willing she should reveal to her husband.

  The gift she required was this: She said that she would have in that country in the month of January, a very fair garden and large, replenished with herbs, flowers and blossoming trees and fruits, as if it were in the month of May. She sent him this message, saying to herself that this is an impossible thing so that in this way I shall rid him from me.

  Tarolfo, hearing this demand, although it seemed to him impossible to be done, and that he knew very well to what end she required the same, answered: that he would never rest, neither yet return into her presence, until such time as he might give her the demanded gift. And so forthwith departed his country with such a company as pleased him to take with him.

  He sought all the west parts for counsel how to attain his desire, but not finding there what he looked for, sought the most hot regions, and so came into Thessaly, as he had been sent by a discreet man for that purpose. And having made his abode there many days, not yet finding what he sought for, it happened that now being almost desperate of his desire and rising one morning before the sun, prepared to enter the dawning day, he all alone began to wander the miserable plains that were now all imbued with Roman blood. And having travelled a long while upon the same, he suddenly espied before him at the foot of a mountain, a man not young nor of too many years, bearded, small and very spare of person, whose attire showed him to be but poor, who roamed hither and thither gathering herbs and with a little knife digged up sundry roots whereof he had filled one of the skirts of his coat. Whom as Tarolfo saw, he marvelled not a little, and doubted greatly lest it had been some other thing; but after his look did certainly show him to be a man, he drew near unto him, saluted him and asked him who he was and of whence and what he did there at so timely an hour.

  To whom the old man answered: “I am of Thebes and Theban is my name, and I go up and down this place gathering of these herbs to the end that with the juice thereof I make divers necessary and profitable things for divers infirmities, whereby I may wherewithal to live. And to come at this hour it is need and not delight that constraineth me. But who are you, that in countenance resembles noble and walk here all alone solitary?

  To whom Tarolfo answered: “I am of the extremes of the west, very rich and vanquished of conceits, pricked forwards to an enterprise, not being able hitherto to achieve the same and therefor to be the better able without impediment to bewail my lot, I go thus all alone wandering.”

  To whom Theban said: “Do you not know the quality of the place and what it is? Wherefore have you rather taken your way on the one side? You might easily here be rebuked with furious spirits.”

  Tarolfo answered: “God can do here as elsewhere. It is He that has my life and honour in His hands. Let Him do with me according to His pleasure, for assuredly death would be to me a rich pleasure.”

  Then said Theban: “What is that your enterprise, for the which (not being able to perform it) you abide thus sorrowful?”

  To whom Tarolfo answered: “It is such as seems to me impossible to be able ever to attain, since hitherto I have here found no counsel.”

  Then said Theban: “Dare you utter it?”

  Tarolfo answered: “Yea, but what profits it?”

  “Peradventure nothing,” said Theban, “but what does it hurt?”

  Then said Tarolfo: “I seek counsel how may be had in the coldest month, a garden full of flowers, fruits and herbs, as fair as if it were in the month of May. Neither do I find who can therein either help me or give me encouragement that it is possible to be had.”

  Theban stayed a while in a muse without answer, and after said: “You and many others do judge the skill and virtue of men according to their garments. If my goods were such as are yours, you would not have lingered so long in discovering your lack. Or if peradventure you had found me near unto some rich prince, as you have in gathering of herbs. But many times under the vilest vesture are hidden the greatest treasures of science, and therefor no one conceals his lack to whom is proffered counsel or help; and if therefor he opens the same it cannot prejudice him at all. But what would you give him that should bring to effect that which you go about thus seeking for?”

  Tarolfo beheld him in the face as he uttered these words, and doubted lest he went about to deride him for that it seemed to him incredible that he should be able to bring the same to pass unless he were a god. Notwithstanding he answered him thus:

  “I have under my rule in my country many castles and therwithal great treasures, all the which I would divide with him evenly that would give me so great a pleasure.”

  “Truly,” said Theban, “if you would do so much for me, I should no more need to go thus about in gathering of herbs.”

  “Assuredly,” said Tarolfo, “if you be able to give true effect to what you promise and give it to me indeed, you shall never need to care nor yet to trouble yourself to become rich. But how and when can you bring me this to pass?”

  Then said Theban: “The time when shall be at your choice, but for the manner how trouble not yourself. And I will go with you, trusting unto the word and promise you have made me, and when we shall be there where it pleases you to be, command what you would have done and I shall without fail perform the same.”

  Of this good fortune Tarolfo was so well contented in himself as little more gladness could he have received if he had then held his lady embraced in his arms, and said: “Friend, unto me it seems long until you have performed what you have promised; wherefor let us depart without further tarrying and go thither where this is to be done.”

  Theban cast away his herbs and took his books and other things necessary unto his science, and with Tarolfo took his journey, and in short time they both came unto the desired city, very near unto the month in which the garden had been required to be made. Whereas all secret and close they did repose themselves until the wished time.

  And now the month being entered, Tarolfo commanded the garden to be made to the end that he might give the same to his loved lady.

  So soon as Theban had received this command he tarried the night ensuing, the which being once come he saw the horns of the moon gathered into a perfect roundness and to shine upon the frequented earth. Then he went him all alone forth of the city, leaving his apparel apart, bare-legged, and his dishevelled locks hanging upon his naked shoulders. The restless degrees of the night did pass. Birds, wild beasts and men without any noise did take their rest. The unfallen leaves without moving did hang upon the trees, and the moist air abode in mild peace. Only the stars did shine when as he oftentimes went about the grounds and came unto a pl
ace on a riverside, which it pleased him to choose for his garden.

  There he stretched forth his arm three times towards the stars, and turning himself unto them he as often bathed his white locks in the running stream, crying as many times with a most high voice their help. And after setting his knees to the hard earth, began thus to say:

  “O night, most faithful secreter of high things, and you, O ye stars, which together with the moon do succeed the splendid day, and thou, O singular Hecates, become a helper to this my begun enterprise. And thou, O holy Ceres, the renewer of the ample face of the earth, also. And you whatsoever verses either arts or herbs, and thou whatsoever are bringing forth virtuous plants, and thou, O air, winds, mountains, rivers and lakes, and each god of the woods, and of the secret night, by whose help I have heretofore made the running streams to recoil, forcing them to return to their springs, and things running to become firm, and things firm to become running, and that has also given power to my verses to dry up the seas, that I at my pleasure might search the bottom thereof, and to make the cloudy times clear and (at my will) to fill the clear heavens with obscure clouds, to make the winds to cease and to turn as it seemed me best breaking therewith the hard jaws of the fearful dragon, making also the standing woods to move and the high mountains to tremble, and to return to their bodies out of the lake Styx those their shadows, and alive to come forth of their sepulchers, and sometimes thee, O moon, to draw to thy perfect roundness the attaining whereunto a ring of basons was wont to be a help, making also the clear face of the sun many times to become pale, be ye all present and aid me with your help. I have at this instant need of the sap and juice of herb, through which I may make in part the dry earth fastened through autumn and after through the withering cold winter, spoil of his flowers, fruits and herbs, to become flowering and to spring before the due time.”