THE EIGHT NOVELL

 

   WHEREBY APPEARETH, THAT AN HUSBAND OUGHT TO BE VERY WELL ADVISED,

    WHEN HE MEANETH TO DISCOVER ANY WRONG OFFERED HIS WIFE; EXCEPT

      HEE HIM-SELFE DO RASHLY RUN INTO ALL THE SHAME AND REPROACH

 

  Arriguccio Berlinghieri, became immeasurably jelous of his Wife

Simonida, who fastened a thred about her great toe, for to serve as

a small, when her amorous friend should come to visite her. Arriguccio

findeth the fallacie, and while he pursueth the amorous friend, shee

causeth her Maide to lye in her bed against his returne: whom he

beateth extreamly, cutting away the lockes of her haire (thinking he

had doone all this violence to his wife Simonida:) and afterward

fetcheth her Mother and Brethren, to shame her before them, and so

be rid of her. But they finding all his speeches to be utterly

false; and reputing him to bee a drunken jealous foole; all the

blame and disgrace falleth on himselfe.

 

  It seemed to the whole assembly, that Madam Beatrix, dealte somewhat

strangely, in the manner of beguiling her husband; and affirmed

also, that Anichino had great cause of fear, when she held him so

strongly by her beds side, and related all his amorous temptation. But

when the King perceyved, that Madame Philomena sate silent, he

turned to Madam Neiphila, willing her to supply the next place; who

modestly smiling, thus began.

  Faire Ladies, it were an heavy burthen imposed on me, and a matter

much surmounting my capacity, if I should vainely imagine, to

content you with so pleasing a Novell, as those have already done,

by you so singularly reported: neverthelesse, I must discharge my

dutie, and take my fortune as it fals, albeit I hope to finde you

mercifull.

  You are to know then, that sometime there lived in our Citie, a very

welthy Merchant, named Arriguccio Berlinghieri, who (as many Merchants

have done) fondly imagined, to make himselfe a Gentleman by

marriage. Which that he might the more assuredly do, he took to wife a

Gentlewoman, one much above his degree or element, she being named

Simonida. Now, in regard that he delighted (as it is the usuall life

of a Merchant) to be often abroad, and little at home, whereby shee

had small benefit of his company; shee grew very forward in

affection with a young Gentleman, called Signior Roberto, who had

solicited hir by many amorous meanes, and (at length) prevailed to win

her favor. Which favour being once obtained; affection gaddes so farre

beyond al discretion, and makes Lovers so heedelesse of their

private conversations: that either they are taken tardy in their

folly, or else subjected to scandalous suspition.

  It came to passe, that Arriguccio, either by rumour, or some other

more sensible apprehension, had received such intelligence

concerning his Wife Simonida, as he grew into extraordinarie jealousie

of her, refraining travaile abroad, as formerly he was wont to doe,

and ceassing from his verie ordinary affayres, addicting all his

care and endeavour, onely to be watchfull of his Wife; so that he

never durst sleepe, untill she were by him in the bed, which was no

meane mollestation to her, being thus curbd from her familiar meetings

with Roberto. Neverthelesse, having a long while consulted with her

wittes, to find some apte meanes for conversing with him, being

thereto also very earnestlie still solicited by him; you shall heare

what course she undertooke.

  Her Chamber being on the streete side, and somewhat juttying over

it, she observed the disposition of her Husband, that every night it

was long before he fell asleepe: but beeing once falne into it, no

noyse whatsoever, could easily wake him. This his solemne and sound

sleeping, emboldned her so farre, as to meete with Roberto at the

streete doore, which (while her Husband slept) softly she would open

to him, and therein private converse with him.

  But, because shee would know the certaine houre of his comming,

without the least suspition of any: she hung a thred forth of her

Chamber Window, descending downe, within the compasse of Robertoes

reach in the street, and the other end thereof, guided from the Window

to the bed, being conveyed under the Cloathes, and shee being in

bed, she fastned it about her left great Toe, wherewith Roberto was

sufficiently acquainted, and thus enstructed withall; that at his

comming, he should plucke the thred, and if her husband was in his

dead sleep, she would let go the thred, and come downe to him: but

if he slept not, she would hold it strongly, and then his tarrying

would prove but in vaine, there could be no meeting that night.

  This devise was highly pleasing both to Roberto and Simonida,

being the intelligencer of their often meeting, and many times also

advising the contrary. But in the end, as the quaintest cunning may

faile at one time or other; so it fortuned one night, that Simonida

being in a sound sleepe, and Arriguccio waking, because his drowsie

houre was not yet come: as he extendeth forth his legge in the bed, he

found the thred, which feeling in his hand, and perceiving it was tyed

to his wives great toe; it prooved apt tinder to kindle further

jealousie, and now hee suspected some treachery indeede, and so much

the rather because the thred guided (under the cloathes) from the

bed to the window, and there hanging downe into the streete, as a

warning to some further businesse.

  Now was Arriguccio so furiously enflamed, that hee must needes bee

further resolved in this apparant doubt: and because therein hee would

not be deceived, softly he cut the thred from his wives toe, and

made it fast about his owne; to trye what successe would ensue

thereon. It was not long before Roberto came, and according as hee

used to doe, hee pluckt the thred, which Arriguccio felt, but

because hee had not tyed it fast, and Roberto pulling it

over-hardly, it fell downe from the window into his hand, which he

understood as his lesson, to attend her comming, and so hee did.

Arriguccio stealing softly out of bed from his wife, and taking his

Sword under his arme, went downe to the doore, to see who it was, with

full intent of further revenge. Now, albeit he was a Merchant, yet

he wanted not courage, and boldnesse of spirit, and opening the

doore without any noyse, onely as his wife was wont to doe: Roberto,

there waiting his entrance, perceived by the doores unfashionable

opening, that it was not Simonida, but her Husband, whereupon he

betooke himselfe to flight and Arriguccio fiercely followed him. At

the length, Roberto perceiving that flight avayled him not, because

his enemy still pursued him: being armed also with a Sword, as

Arriguccio was; he returned backe upon him, the one offering to

offend, as the other stood upon his defence, and so in the darke

they fought together.

  Simonida awaking, even when her Husband went foorth of the

Chamber, and finding the thred to be cut from her toe; conjectured

immediately, that her subtle cunning was discovered, and supposing her

Husband in pursuite of Roberto, presently she arose; and,

considering what was likely to ensue thereon, called her Chamber-maide

(who was not ignorant of the businesse) and by perswasions prevailed

so with her, that she lay downe in her place in the bed, upon

solemne protestations and liberall promises, not to make her selfe

knowne, but to suffer all patiently, either blowes, or other ill usage

of her Husband, which shee would recompence in such bountifull sort,

as she should have no occasion to complaine. So, putting out the

watchlight, which every night burned in the Chamber, she departed

thence, and sate downe in a close corner of the house, to see what

would be the end of all this stirre, after her Husbands comming home.

  The fight (as you have formerly heard) continuing betweene Roberto

and Arriguccio, the neighbours hearing of the clashing of their Swords

in the streets; arose out of their beds, and reproved them in very

harsh manner. In which respect Arriguccio, fearing to be knowne, and

ignorant also what his adversary was (no harme being as yet done on

either side) permitted him to depart; and extreamely full of anger,

returned backe againe to his house. Being come up into his

bed-chamber, thus he began; Where is this lewde and wicked woman?

what? hast thou put out the light, because I should not finde thee?

that shall not avayle thee, for I can well enough finde a drab in

the darke. So, groping on to the beds side, and thinking hee had taken

holde on his wife, he grasped the Chamber-maide, so beating her with

his fists, and spurning her with his feet, that al her face was bloody

and bruised. Next, with his knife he cut off a great deal of her

haire, giving her the most villanous speeches as could be devised:

swearing, that he would make her a shame to all the world.

  You need make no doubt, but the poore maide wept exceedingly, as she

had good occasion to doe: and albeit many times she desired mercy, and

that hee would not bee so cruell to her: yet notwithstanding, her

voyce was so broken with crying, and his impacience so extreame,

that rage hindered all power of distinguishing, or knowing his wives

tongue from a strangers. Having thus madly beaten her, and cut the

lockes off from her head, thus he spake to her. Wicked woman, and no

wife of mine, be sure I have not done with thee yet; for, although I

meane not now to beate thee any longer: I will goe to thy brethren,

and they shall understand thy dishonest behaviour. Then will I bring

them home with me, and they perceiving how much thou hast abused

both their honour and thine owne; let them deale with thee as they

finde occasion, for thou art no more a companion for me. No sooner had

he uttered these angry words, but hee went forth of the Chamber,

bolting it fast on the outward side, as meaning to keepe her safely

inclosed, and out of the house he went alone by himselfe.

  Simonida, who had heard all this tempestuous conflict, perceiving

that her Husband had lockt the streete doore after him, and was gone

whether he pleased: unbolted the Chamber doore, lighted a waxe candle,

and went in to see her poore maide, whom she found to be most

pittifully misused. She comforted her as well as she could, brought

her into her owne lodging Chamber, where washing her face and hurts in

very soveraigne waters, and rewarding her liberally with

Arriguccioes owne Gold; she held her selfe to be sufficiently

satisfyed. So, leaving the maide in her lodging, and returning again

to her owne Chamber: she made up the bed in such former manner, as

if no body had lodged therein that night. Then hanging up her Lampe

fresh fild with oyle, and clearly lighted, she deckt her selfe in so

decent sort, as if she had bin in no bed all that night.

  Then taking sowing worke in her hand, either shirts or bands of

her Husbands; hanging the Lampe by her, and sitting downe at the

stayres head, she fell to worke in very serious manner, as if shee had

undertaken some imposed taske.

  On the other side, Arriguccio had travelled so farre from his house,

till he came at last to the dwelling of Simonidaes brethren: where hee

knockt so soundly, that he was quickely heard, and (almost as

speedily) let in. Simonidaes brethren, and her mother also, hearing of

Arriguccioes comming thither so late. Rose from their beds, and each

of them having a Waxe Candle lighted, came presently to him, to

understand the cause of this his so unseasonable visitation.

Arriguccio, beginning at the originall of the matter, the thred

found tyed about his wives great toe, the fight and houshold

conflict after following: related every circumstance to them. And

for the better proofe of his words, he shewed them the thred it selfe,

the lockes supposed of his wives haire, and adding withall; that

they might now dispose of Simonida as themselves pleased, because

she should remaine no longer in his house.

  The brethren to Simonida were exceedingly offended at this relation,

in regard they beleeved it for truth, and in this fury, commanded

Torches to be lighted, preparing to part thence with Arriguccio home

to his house, for the more sharpe reprehension of their Sister.

Which when their mother saw, she followed them weeping, first

entreating one, and then the other, not to be over rash in crediting

such a slander, but rather to consider the truth thereof advisedly:

because the Husband might be angry with his Wife upon some other

occasion, and having outraged her, made this the meanes in excuse of

himselfe. Moreover she said, that she could not chuse but wonder

greatly, how this matter should thus come to passe: because she had

good knowledge of her daughter, during the whole course of her

education, faultlesse and blamelesse in every degree; with many

other good words of her beside, as proceeding from naturall

affection of a mother.

  Being come to the house of Arriguccio, entring in, and ascending

up the stayres: they heard Simonida sweetly singing at her working;

but pausing, upon hearing their rude trampling, shee demaunded, who

was there. One of the angry brethren presently answered: Lewde woman

as thou art, thou shalt know soone enough who is heere: Our blessed

Lady be with us (quoth Simonida) and sweet Saint Frances helpe to

defend me, who dare use such unseemely speeches? Starting up and

meeting them on the staire head: Kinde brethren, (said she) is it you?

What, and my loving mother too? For sweet Saint Charities sake, what

may be the reason of your comming hither in this manner. Shee being

set downe againe to her worke, so neatly apparelled, without any signe

of outrage offered her, her face unblemished, her haire comely

ordered, and differing wholly from the former speeches of her Husband:

the Brethren marvelled thereat not a little; and asswaging somewhat

the impetuous torrent of their rage, began to demaund in coole

blood, (as it were) from what ground her Husbands complaints

proceeded, and threatning her roughly, if she would not confesse the

truth intirely to them.

  Ave Maria (quoth Simonida, crossing her selfe) Alas deare

Brethren, I know not what you say, or meane, nor wherein my Husband

should bee offended, or make any complaint at all of me. Arriguccio

hearing this looked on her like a man that had lost his Senses: for

well he remembred, how many cruell blowes he had given her on the

face, beside scratches of his nailes, and spurnes of his feet, as also

the cutting of her haire, the least shew of all which misusage, was

not now to be seene. Her brethren likewise briefly told her, the whole

effect of her Husbands speeches, shewing her the thred, and in what

cruell manner he sware hee did beate her. Simonida, turning then to

her Husband, and seeming as confounded with amazement, said. How is

this Husband? what doe I heare? would you have me supposed (to your

owne shame and disgrace) to be a bad woman, and your selfe a cruell

curst man, when (on either side) there is no such matter? When were

you this night heere in the house with mee? Or when should you beate

mee, and I not feele nor know it? Beleeve me (sweete heart) all

these are meerely miracles to me.

  Now was Arriguccio ten times more mad in his minde, then before,

saying. Divell, and no woman, did wee not this night goe both together

to bed? Did not I cut this thred from thy great toe, tyed it to

mine, and found the craftie compact betweene thee and thy Minnion? Did

not I follow and fight with him in the streets? Came I not backe

againe, and beate thee as a Strumpet should be? And are not these

the locks of haire, which I my selfe did cut from thy bead?

  Alas Sir (quoth she) where have you been? doe you know what you say?

you did not lodge in this house this night, neither did I see you

all the whole day and night, till now.

  But leaving this, and come to the matter now in question, because

I have no other testimony then mine owne words. You say, that you

did beate me, and cut those lockes of haire from my head. Alas Sir,

why should you slander your selfe? In all your life time you did never

strike me. And to approve the truth of my speeches, doe you your

selfe, and all else heere present, looke on me advisedly, if any signe

of blow or beating is to be seene on me. Nor were it an easie matter

for you to doe either to smite, or so much as lay your hand (in anger)

on me, it would cost dearer then you thinke for. And whereas you

say, that you did cut those lockes of haire from my head; it is more

then either I know, or felt, nor are they in colour like to mine: but,

because my Mother and brethren shall be my witnesses therein, and

whether you did it without my knowledge; you shall all see, if they be

cut, or no. So, taking off her head attyre, she displayed her hayre

over her shoulders, which had suffered no violence, neither seemed

to bee so much as uncivilly or rudely handled.

  When the mother and brethren saw this, they began to murmure against

Arriguccio, saying. What thinke you of this Sir? you tell us of

strange matters which you have done, and all proving false, we

wonder how you can make good the rest. Arriguccio looked wilde, and

confusedly, striving still to maintaine his accusation: but seeing

every thing to bee flatly against him, he durst not attempt to

speake one word. Simonida tooke advantage of this distraction in

him, and turning to her brethren, saide. I see now the marke whereat

he aymeth, to make me doe what I never meante: Namely, that I should

acquaint you with his vile qualities, and what a wretched life I leade

with him, which seeing hee will needes have me to reveale; beare

with me if I doe it upon compulsion.

  Mother and Brethren, I am verily perswaded, that those accidents

which he disclosed to you, hath doubtlesse (in the same manner)

happened to him, and you shall heare how. Very true it is, that this

seeming honest man, to whom (in a lucklesse houre) you married me,

stileth himselfe by the name of a Merchant, coveting to be so

accounted and credited, as holy in outward appearance, as a

Religious Monke, and as demure in lookes, as the modestest Maide: like

a notorious common drunkard, is a Taverne hunter, where making his

luxurius matches, one while with one Whore, then againe with

another; hee causeth mee every night to sit tarrying for him, even

in the same sort as you found me: sometimes till midnight, and

otherwhiles till broad day light in the morning.

  And questionlesse, being in his wounted drunken humour, hee hath

lyen with one of his sweet Consorts, about whose toe he found the

thred, and finding her as false to him, as he hath alwayes been to me:

Did not onely beat her, but also cut the haire from her head. And

having not yet recovered his sences, is verily perswaded, and cannot

be altered from it; but that hee performed all this villany to me. And

if you doe but advisedly observe his countenance, he appeareth yet

to be more then halfe drunke.

  But whatsoever he hath said concerning me, I make no account at

all thereof, because he spake it in his drunkennesse, and as freely as

I forgive him, even so (good Mother and kinde Brethren,) let mee

entreate you to do the like.

  When the Mother had heard these words, and confidently beleeved

her Daughter: she began to torment her selfe with anger, saying. By

the faith of my body Daughter, this unkindnesse is not [to] be

endured, but rather let the dogge be hanged, that his qualities may be

knowne, he being utterly unworthy, to have so good a woman to his

wife, as thou art. What could he have done if he had taken thee in the

open more, and in company of some wanton Gallants? In an unfortunate

houre wast thou married to him, base jealous Coxecombe as he is, and

it is quite against sense, or reason, that thou shouldest be subject

to his fooleries. What was hee, but a Merchant of Eale-skinnes or

Orenges, bred in some paltry countrey village; taken from

Hogge-rubbing; clothed in Sheepes-Sattin, with Clownish Startops,

Leather stockings, and Caddies garters: His whole habite not worth

three shillings: And yet he must have a faire Gentlewoman to his Wife,

of honest fame, riches and reputation; when, comparing his pedegree

with hers, hee is farre unfit to wipe her shooes.

  Oh my deare sonnes, I would you had followed my counsell, and

permitted her to mate in the honourable family of Count Guido, which

was much mooved, and seriously pursued. But you would needs bestow her

on this goodly jewell; who, although shee is one of the choysest

beauties in Florence, chaste, honest and truely vertuous: Is not

ashamed at midnight, to proclaime her for a common whore, as if we had

no better knowledge of her. But by the blessed mother of Saint John,

if you would be ruled by mine advise; our law should make him

dearely smart for it.

  Alas my sonnes, did I not tell you at home in our owne house, that

his words were no way likely to prove true? Have not your eyes

observed his unmannerly behaviour to your Sister? If I were as you

are, hearing what he hath said, and noting his drunken carriage

beside; I should never give over, as long as he had any life left in

him. And were I a man, as I am a woman, none other then my selfe

should revenge her wrongs, making him a publike spectacle to all

drabbing drunkards.

  When the brethren had heard and observed all these occurrences; in

most bitter manner they railed on Arriguccio, bestowing some good

bastinadoes on him beside, concluding thus with him in the end.

Quoth one of them, Wee will pardon this shamefull abusing of our

Sister, because thou art a notorious drunkard: but looke to it (on

perill of thy life) that we have no more such newes hereafter; for,

beleeve it unfainedly, if any such impudent rumours happen to our

eares, or so much as a flying fame thereof; thou shalt surely be paide

for both faults together.

  So home againe went they, and Arriguccio stood like one that had

neither life or motion, not knowing (whether what he had done) was

true, or no, or if he dreamed all this while, and so (without uttering

any word) he left his Wife, and went quietly to bed. Thus by her

wisdome, she did not onely prevent an imminent perill: but also made a

free and open passage, to further contentment with her amourous

friend, yet dreadlesse of any distaste or suspition in her Husband.