Good Reading: "Quanto Sare’ Men Doglia il Morir Presto" by Michelangelo Buonarroti (in Italian)

   Quanto sare’ men doglia il morir presto
che provar mille morte ad ora ad ora,
da ch’in cambio d’amarla, vuol ch’io mora!
Ahi, che doglia ’nfinita
 sente ’l mio cor, quando li torna a mente
che quella ch’io tant’amo amor non sente!
Come resterò ’n vita?
Anzi mi dice, per più doglia darmi,
che se stessa non ama: e vero parmi.
Come posso sperar di me le dolga,
se se stessa non ama? Ahi trista sorte!
Che fia pur ver, ch’io ne trarrò la morte?

Tuesday's Serial: "Frankenstein or the Modern Prometheus" by Mary Shelley (first version, 1818) (in English) - VIII

 VOLUME III

 

CHAPTER I.

Day after day, week after week, passed away on my return to Geneva; and I could not collect the courage to recommence my work. I feared the vengeance of the disappointed fiend, yet I was unable to overcome my repugnance to the task which was enjoined me. I found that I could not compose a female without again devoting several months to profound study and laborious disquisition. I had heard of some discoveries having been made by an English philosopher, the knowledge of which was material to my success, and I sometimes thought of obtaining my father's consent to visit England for this purpose; but I clung to every pretence of delay, and could not resolve to interrupt my returning tranquillity. My health, which had hitherto declined, was now much restored; and my spirits, when unchecked by the memory of my unhappy promise, rose proportionably. My father saw this change with pleasure, and he turned his thoughts towards the best method of eradicating the remains of my melancholy, which every now and then would return by fits, and with a devouring blackness overcast the approaching sunshine. At these moments I took refuge in the most perfect solitude. I passed whole days on the lake alone in a little boat, watching the clouds, and listening to the rippling of the waves, silent and listless. But the fresh air and bright sun seldom failed to restore me to some degree of composure; and, on my return, I met the salutations of my friends with a readier smile and a more cheerful heart.

It was after my return from one of these rambles that my father, calling me aside, thus addressed me:—

"I am happy to remark, my dear son, that you have resumed your former pleasures, and seem to be returning to yourself. And yet you are still unhappy, and still avoid our society. For some time I was lost in conjecture as to the cause of this; but yesterday an idea struck me, and if it is well founded, I conjure you to avow it. Reserve on such a point would be not only useless, but draw down treble misery on us all."

I trembled violently at this exordium, and my father continued—

"I confess, my son, that I have always looked forward to your marriage with your cousin as the tie of our domestic comfort, and the stay of my declining years. You were attached to each other from your earliest infancy; you studied together, and appeared, in dispositions and tastes, entirely suited to one another. But so blind is the experience of man, that what I conceived to be the best assistants to my plan may have entirely destroyed it. You, perhaps, regard her as your sister, without any wish that she might become your wife. Nay, you may have met with another whom you may love; and, considering yourself as bound in honour to your cousin, this struggle may occasion the poignant misery which you appear to feel."

"My dear father, re-assure yourself. I love my cousin tenderly and sincerely. I never saw any woman who excited, as Elizabeth does, my warmest admiration and affection. My future hopes and prospects are entirely bound up in the expectation of our union."

"The expression of your sentiments on this subject, my dear Victor, gives me more pleasure than I have for some time experienced. If you feel thus, we shall assuredly be happy, however present events may cast a gloom over us. But it is this gloom, which appears to have taken so strong a hold of your mind, that I wish to dissipate. Tell me, therefore, whether you object to an immediate solemnization of the marriage. We have been unfortunate, and recent events have drawn us from that every-day tranquillity befitting my years and infirmities. You are younger; yet I do not suppose, possessed as you are of a competent fortune, that an early marriage would at all interfere with any future plans of honour and utility that you may have formed. Do not suppose, however, that I wish to dictate happiness to you, or that a delay on your part would cause me any serious uneasiness. Interpret my words with candour, and answer me, I conjure you, with confidence and sincerity."

I listened to my father in silence, and remained for some time incapable of offering any reply. I revolved rapidly in my mind a multitude of thoughts, and endeavoured to arrive at some conclusion. Alas! to me the idea of an immediate union with my cousin was one of horror and dismay. I was bound by a solemn promise, which I had not yet fulfilled, and dared not break; or, if I did, what manifold miseries might not impend over me and my devoted family! Could I enter into a festival with this deadly weight yet hanging round my neck, and bowing me to the ground. I must perform my engagement, and let the monster depart with his mate, before I allowed myself to enjoy the delight of an union from which I expected peace.

I remembered also the necessity imposed upon me of either journeying to England, or entering into a long correspondence with those philosophers of that country, whose knowledge and discoveries were of indispensable use to me in my present undertaking. The latter method of obtaining the desired intelligence was dilatory and unsatisfactory: besides, any variation was agreeable to me, and I was delighted with the idea of spending a year or two in change of scene and variety of occupation, in absence from my family; during which period some event might happen which would restore me to them in peace and happiness: my promise might be fulfilled, and the monster have departed; or some accident might occur to destroy him, and put an end to my slavery for ever.

These feelings dictated my answer to my father. I expressed a wish to visit England; but, concealing the true reasons of this request, I clothed my desires under the guise of wishing to travel and see the world before I sat down for life within the walls of my native town.

I urged my entreaty with earnestness, and my father was easily induced to comply; for a more indulgent and less dictatorial parent did not exist upon earth. Our plan was soon arranged. I should travel to Strasburgh, where Clerval would join me. Some short time would be spent in the towns of Holland, and our principal stay would be in England. We should return by France; and it was agreed that the tour should occupy the space of two years.

My father pleased himself with the reflection, that my union with Elizabeth should take place immediately on my return to Geneva. "These two years," said he, "will pass swiftly, and it will be the last delay that will oppose itself to your happiness. And, indeed, I earnestly desire that period to arrive, when we shall all be united, and neither hopes or fears arise to disturb our domestic calm."

"I am content," I replied, "with your arrangement. By that time we shall both have become wiser, and I hope happier, than we at present are." I sighed; but my father kindly forbore to question me further concerning the cause of my dejection. He hoped that new scenes, and the amusement of travelling, would restore my tranquillity.

I now made arrangements for my journey; but one feeling haunted me, which filled me with fear and agitation. During my absence I should leave my friends unconscious of the existence of their enemy, and unprotected from his attacks, exasperated as he might be by my departure. But he had promised to follow me wherever I might go; and would he not accompany me to England? This imagination was dreadful in itself, but soothing, inasmuch as it supposed the safety of my friends. I was agonized with the idea of the possibility that the reverse of this might happen. But through the whole period during which I was the slave of my creature, I allowed myself to be governed by the impulses of the moment; and my present sensations strongly intimated that the fiend would follow me, and exempt my family from the danger of his machinations.

It was in the latter end of August that I departed, to pass two years of exile. Elizabeth approved of the reasons of my departure, and only regretted that she had not the same opportunities of enlarging her experience, and cultivating her understanding. She wept, however, as she bade me farewell, and entreated me to return happy and tranquil. "We all," said she, "depend upon you; and if you are miserable, what must be our feelings?"

I threw myself into the carriage that was to convey me away, hardly knowing whither I was going, and careless of what was passing around. I remembered only, and it was with a bitter anguish that I reflected on it, to order that my chemical instruments should be packed to go with me: for I resolved to fulfil my promise while abroad, and return, if possible, a free man. Filled with dreary imaginations, I passed through many beautiful and majestic scenes; but my eyes were fixed and unobserving. I could only think of the bourne of my travels, and the work which was to occupy me whilst they endured.

After some days spent in listless indolence, during which I traversed many leagues, I arrived at Strasburgh, where I waited two days for Clerval. He came. Alas, how great was the contrast between us! He was alive to every new scene; joyful when he saw the beauties of the setting sun, and more happy when he beheld it rise, and recommence a new day. He pointed out to me the shifting colours of the landscape, and the appearances of the sky. "This is what it is to live;" he cried, "now I enjoy existence! But you, my dear Frankenstein, wherefore are you desponding and sorrowful?" In truth, I was occupied by gloomy thoughts, and neither saw the descent of the evening star, nor the golden sun-rise reflected in the Rhine.—And you, my friend, would be far more amused with the journal of Clerval, who observed the scenery with an eye of feeling and delight, than to listen to my reflections. I, a miserable wretch, haunted by a curse that shut up every avenue to enjoyment.

We had agreed to descend the Rhine in a boat from Strasburgh to Rotterdam, whence we might take shipping for London. During this voyage, we passed by many willowy islands, and saw several beautiful towns. We staid a day at Manheim, and, on the fifth from our departure from Strasburgh, arrived at Mayence. The course of the Rhine below Mayence becomes much more picturesque. The river descends rapidly, and winds between hills, not high, but steep, and of beautiful forms. We saw many ruined castles standing on the edges of precipices, surrounded by black woods, high and inaccessible. This part of the Rhine, indeed, presents a singularly variegated landscape. In one spot you view rugged hills, ruined castles overlooking tremendous precipices, with the dark Rhine rushing beneath; and, on the sudden turn of a promontory, flourishing vineyards, with green sloping banks, and a meandering river, and populous towns, occupy the scene.

We travelled at the time of the vintage, and heard the song of the labourers, as we glided down the stream. Even I, depressed in mind, and my spirits continually agitated by gloomy feelings, even I was pleased. I lay at the bottom of the boat, and, as I gazed on the cloudless blue sky, I seemed to drink in a tranquillity to which I had long been a stranger. And if these were my sensations, who can describe those of Henry? He felt as if he had been transported to Fairy-land, and enjoyed a happiness seldom tasted by man. "I have seen," he said, "the most beautiful scenes of my own country; I have visited the lakes of Lucerne and Uri, where the snowy mountains descend almost perpendicularly to the water, casting black and impenetrable shades, which would cause a gloomy and mournful appearance, were it not for the most verdant islands that relieve the eye by their gay appearance; I have seen this lake agitated by a tempest, when the wind tore up whirlwinds of water, and gave you an idea of what the water-spout must be on the great ocean, and the waves dash with fury the base of the mountain, where the priest and his mistress were overwhelmed by an avalanche, and where their dying voices are still said to be heard amid the pauses of the nightly wind; I have seen the mountains of La Valais, and the Pays de Vaud: but this country, Victor, pleases me more than all those wonders. The mountains of Switzerland are more majestic and strange; but there is a charm in the banks of this divine river, that I never before saw equalled. Look at that castle which overhangs yon precipice; and that also on the island, almost concealed amongst the foliage of those lovely trees; and now that group of labourers coming from among their vines; and that village half-hid in the recess of the mountain. Oh, surely, the spirit that inhabits and guards this place has a soul more in harmony with man, than those who pile the glacier, or retire to the inaccessible peaks of the mountains of our own country."

Clerval! beloved friend! even now it delights me to record your words, and to dwell on the praise of which you are so eminently deserving. He was a being formed in the "very poetry of nature[1]." His wild and enthusiastic imagination was chastened by the sensibility of his heart. His soul overflowed with ardent affections, and his friendship was of that devoted and wondrous nature that the worldly-minded teach us to look for only in the imagination. But even human sympathies were not sufficient to satisfy his eager mind. The scenery of external nature, which others regard only with admiration, he loved with ardour:

 

——————"The sounding cataract

Haunted him like a passion: the tall rock,

The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,

Their colours and their forms, were then to him

An appetite; a feeling, and a love,

That had no need of a remoter charm,

By thought supplied, or any interest

Unborrowed from the eye[2]."

 

And where does he now exist? Is this gentle and lovely being lost for ever? Has this mind so replete with ideas, imaginations fanciful and magnificent, which formed a world, whose existence depended on the life of its creator; has this mind perished? Does it now only exist in my memory? No, it is not thus; your form so divinely wrought, and beaming with beauty, has decayed, but your spirit still visits and consoles your unhappy friend

Pardon this gush of sorrow; these ineffectual words are but a slight tribute to the unexampled worth of Henry, but they soothe my heart, overflowing with the anguish which his remembrance creates. I will proceed with my tale.

Beyond Cologne we descended to the plains of Holland; and we resolved to post the remainder of our way; for the wind was contrary, and the stream of the river was too gentle to aid us.

Our journey here lost the interest arising from beautiful scenery; but we arrived in a few days at Rotterdam, whence we proceeded by sea to England. It was on a clear morning, in the latter days of December, that I first saw the white cliffs of Britain. The banks of the Thames presented a new scene; they were flat, but fertile, and almost every town was marked by the remembrance of some story. We saw Tilbury Fort, and remembered the Spanish armada; Gravesend, Woolwich, and Greenwich, places which I had heard of even in my country.

At length we saw the numerous steeples of London, St. Paul's towering above all, and the Tower famed in English history.

1.       Leigh Hunt's "Rimini."

2.       'Wordsworth's "Tintern Abbey."

 

 

CHAPTER II.

London was our present point of rest; we determined to remain several months in this wonderful and celebrated city. Clerval desired the intercourse of the men of genius and talent who flourished at this time; but this was with me a secondary object; I was principally occupied with the means of obtaining the information necessary for the completion of my promise, and quickly availed myself of the letters of introduction that I had brought with me, addressed to the most distinguished natural philosophers.

If this journey had taken place during my days of study and happiness, it would have afforded me inexpressible pleasure. But a blight had come over my existence, and I only visited these people for the sake of the information they might give me on the subject in which my interest was so terribly profound. Company was irksome to me; when alone, I could fill my mind with the sights of heaven and earth; the voice of Henry soothed me, and I could thus cheat myself into a transitory peace. But busy uninteresting joyous faces brought back despair to my heart. I saw an insurmountable barrier placed between me and my fellow-men; this barrier was sealed with the blood of William and Justine; and to reflect on the events connected with those names filled my soul with anguish.

But in Clerval I saw the image of my former self; he was inquisitive, and anxious to gain experience and instruction. The difference of manners which he observed was to him an inexhaustible source of instruction and amusement. He was for ever busy; and the only check to his enjoyments was my sorrowful and dejected mien. I tried to conceal this as much as possible, that I might not debar him from the pleasures natural to one who was entering on a new scene of life, undisturbed by any care or bitter recollection. I often refused to accompany him, alleging another engagement, that I might remain alone. I now also began to collect the materials necessary for my new creation, and this was to me like the torture of single drops of water continually falling on the head. Every thought that was devoted to it was an extreme anguish, and every word that I spoke in allusion to it caused my lips to quiver, and my heart to palpitate.

After passing some months in London, we received a letter from a person in Scotland, who had formerly been our visitor at Geneva. He mentioned the beauties of his native country, and asked us if those were not sufficient allurements to induce us to prolong our journey as far north as Perth, where he resided. Clerval eagerly desired to accept this invitation; and I, although I abhorred society, wished to view again mountains and streams, and all the wondrous works with which Nature adorns her chosen dwelling-places.

We had arrived in England at the beginning of October, and it was now February. We accordingly determined to commence our journey towards the north at the expiration of another month. In this expedition we did not intend to follow the great road to Edinburgh, but to visit Windsor, Oxford, Matlock, and the Cumberland lakes, resolving to arrive at the completion of this tour about the end of July. I packed my chemical instruments, and the materials I had collected, resolving to finish my labours in some obscure nook in the northern highlands of Scotland.

We quitted London on the 27th of March, and remained a few days at Windsor, rambling in its beautiful forest. This was a new scene to us mountaineers; the majestic oaks, the quantity of game, and the herds of stately deer, were all novelties to us.

From thence we proceeded to Oxford. As we entered this city, our minds were filled with the remembrance of the events that had been transacted there more than a century and a half before. It was here that Charles I. had collected his forces. This city had remained faithful to him, after the whole nation had forsaken his cause to join the standard of parliament and liberty. The memory of that unfortunate king, and his companions, the amiable Falkland, the insolent Gower, his queen, and son, gave a peculiar interest to every part of the city, which they might be supposed to have inhabited. The spirit of elder days found a dwelling here, and we delighted to trace its footsteps. If these feelings had not found an imaginary gratification, the appearance of the city had yet in itself sufficient beauty to obtain our admiration. The colleges are ancient and picturesque; the streets are almost magnificent; and the lovely Isis, which flows beside it through meadows of exquisite verdure, is spread forth into a placid expanse of waters, which reflects its majestic assemblage of towers, and spires, and domes, embosomed among aged trees.

I enjoyed this scene; and yet my enjoyment was embittered both by the memory of the past, and the anticipation of the future. I was formed for peaceful happiness. During my youthful days discontent never visited my mind; and if I was ever overcome by ennui, the sight of what is beautiful in nature, or the study of what is excellent and sublime in the productions of man, could always interest my heart, and communicate elasticity to my spirits. But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit, what I shall soon cease to be—a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to others, and abhorrent to myself.

We passed a considerable period at Oxford, rambling among its environs, and endeavouring to identify every spot which might relate to the most animating epoch of English history. Our little voyages of discovery were often prolonged by the successive objects that presented themselves. We visited the tomb of the illustrious Hampden, and the field on which that patriot fell. For a moment my soul was elevated from its debasing and miserable fears to contemplate the divine ideas of liberty and self-sacrifice, of which these sights were the monuments and the remembrancers. For an instant I dared to shake off my chains, and look around me with a free and lofty spirit; but the iron had eaten into my flesh, and I sank again, trembling and hopeless, into my miserable self.

We left Oxford with regret, and proceeded to Matlock, which was our next place of rest. The country in the neighbourhood of this village resembled, to a greater degree, the scenery of Switzerland; but every thing is on a lower scale, and the green hills want the crown of distant white Alps, which always attend on the piny mountains of my native country. We visited the wondrous cave, and the little cabinets of natural history, where the curiosities are disposed in the same manner as in the collections at Servox and Chamounix. The latter name made me tremble, when pronounced by Henry; and I hastened to quit Matlock, with which that terrible scene was thus associated.

From Derby still journeying northward, we passed two months in Cumberland and Westmoreland. I could now almost fancy myself among the Swiss mountains. The little patches of snow which yet lingered on the northern sides of the mountains, the lakes, and the dashing of the rocky streams, were all familiar and dear sights to me. Here also we made some acquaintances, who almost contrived to cheat me into happiness. The delight of Clerval was proportionably greater than mine; his mind expanded in the company of men of talent, and he found in his own nature greater capacities and resources than he could have imagined himself to have possessed while he associated with his inferiors. "I could pass my life here," said he to me; "and among these mountains I should scarcely regret Switzerland and the Rhine."

But he found that a traveller's life is one that includes much pain amidst its enjoyments. His feelings are for ever on the stretch; and when he begins to sink into repose, he finds himself obliged to quit that on which he rests in pleasure for something new, which again engages his attention, and which also he forsakes for other novelties.

We had scarcely visited the various lakes of Cumberland and Westmoreland, and conceived an affection for some of the inhabitants, when the period of our appointment with our Scotch friend approached, and we left them to travel on. For my own part I was not sorry. I had now neglected my promise for some time, and I feared the effects of the dæmon's disappointment. He might remain in Switzerland, and wreak his vengeance on my relatives. This idea pursued me, and tormented me at every moment from which I might otherwise have snatched repose and peace. I waited for my letters with feverish impatience: if they were delayed, I was miserable, and overcome by a thousand fears; and when they arrived, and I saw the superscription of Elizabeth or my father, I hardly dared to read and ascertain my fate. Sometimes I thought that the fiend followed me, and might expedite my remissness by murdering my companion. When these thoughts possessed me, I would not quit Henry for a moment, but followed him as his shadow, to protect him from the fancied rage of his destroyer. I felt as if I had committed some great crime, the consciousness of which haunted me. I was guiltless, but I had indeed drawn down a horrible curse upon my head, as mortal as that of crime.

I visited Edinburgh with languid eyes and mind; and yet that city might have interested the most unfortunate being. Clerval did not like it so well as Oxford; for the antiquity of the latter city was more pleasing to him. But the beauty and regularity of the new town of Edinburgh, its romantic castle, and its environs, the most delightful in the world, Arthur's Seat, St. Bernard's Well, and the Pentland Hills, compensated him for the change, and filled him with cheerfulness and admiration. But I was impatient to arrive at the termination of my journey.

We left Edinburgh in a week, passing through Coupar, St. Andrews, and along the banks of the Tay, to Perth, where our friend expected us. But I was in no mood to laugh and talk with strangers, or enter into their feelings or plans with the good humour expected from a guest; and accordingly I told Clerval that I wished to make the tour of Scotland alone. "Do you," said I, "enjoy yourself, and let this be our rendezvous. I may be absent a month or two; but do not interfere with my motions, I entreat you: leave me to peace and solitude for a short time; and when I return, I hope it will be with a lighter heart, more congenial to your own temper."

Henry wished to dissuade me; but, seeing me bent on this plan, ceased to remonstrate. He entreated me to write often. "I had rather be with you," he said, "in your solitary rambles, than with these Scotch people, whom I do not know: hasten then, my dear friend, to return, that I may again feel myself somewhat at home, which I cannot do in your absence."

Having parted from my friend, I determined to visit some remote spot of Scotland, and finish my work in solitude. I did not doubt but that the monster followed me, and would discover himself to me when I should have finished, that he might receive his companion.

With this resolution I traversed the northern highlands, and fixed on one of the remotest of the Orkneys as the scene labours. It was a place fitted for such a work, being hardly more than a rock, whose high sides were continually beaten upon by the waves. The soil was barren, scarcely affording pasture for a few miserable cows, and oatmeal for its inhabitants, which consisted of five persons, whose gaunt and scraggy limbs gave tokens of their miserable fare. Vegetables and bread, when they indulged in such luxuries, and even fresh water, was to be procured from the main land, which was about five miles distant.

On the whole island there were but three miserable huts, and one of these was vacant when I arrived. This I hired. It contained but two rooms, and these exhibited all the squalidness of the most miserable penury. The thatch had fallen in, the walls were unplastered, and the door was off its hinges. I ordered it to be repaired, bought some furniture, and took possession; an incident which would, doubtless, have occasioned some surprise, had not all the senses of the cottagers been benumbed by want and squalid poverty. As it was, I lived ungazed at and unmolested, hardly thanked for the pittance of food and clothes which I gave; so much does suffering blunt even the coarsest sensations of men.

In this retreat I devoted the morning to labour; but in the evening, when the weather permitted, I walked on the stony beach of the sea, to listen to the waves as they roared, and dashed at my feet. It was a monotonous, yet ever-changing scene. I thought of Switzerland; it was far different from this desolate and appalling landscape. Its hills are covered with vines, and its cottages are scattered thickly in the plains. Its fair lakes reflect a blue and gentle sky; and, when troubled by the winds, their tumult is but as the play of a lively infant, when compared to the roarings of the giant ocean.

In this manner I distributed my occupations when I first arrived; but, as I proceeded in my labour, it became every day more horrible and irksome to me. Sometimes I could not prevail on myself to enter my laboratory for several days; and at other times I toiled day and night in order to complete my work. It was indeed a filthy process in which I was engaged. During my first experiment, a kind of enthusiastic frenzy had blinded me to the horror of my employment; my mind was intently fixed on the sequel of my labour, and my eyes were shut to the horror of my proceedings. But now I went to it in cold blood, and my heart often sickened at the work of my hands.

Thus situated, employed in the most detestable occupation, immersed in a solitude where nothing could for an instant call my attention from the actual scene in which I was engaged, my spirits became unequal; I grew restless and nervous. Every moment I feared to meet my persecutor. Sometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, fearing to raise them lest they should encounter the object which I so much dreaded to behold. I feared to wander from the sight of my fellow-creatures, lest when alone he should come to claim his companion.

In the mean time I worked on, and my labour was already considerably advanced. I looked towards its completion with a tremulous and eager hope, which I dared not trust myself to question, but which was intermixed with obscure forebodings of evil, that made my heart sicken in my bosom.

 

 

CHAPTER III.

I sat one evening in my laboratory; the sun had set, and the moon was just rising from the sea; I had not sufficient light for my employment, and I remained idle, in a pause of consideration of whether I should leave my labour for the night, or hasten its conclusion by an unremitting attention to it. As I sat, a train of reflection occurred to me, which led me to consider the effects of what I was now doing. Three years before I was engaged in the same manner, and had created a fiend whose unparalleled barbarity had desolated my heart, and filled it for ever with the bitterest remorse. I was now about to form another being, of whose dispositions I was alike ignorant; she might become ten thousand times more malignant than her mate, and delight, for its own sake, in murder and wretchedness. He had sworn to quit the neighbourhood of man, and hide himself in deserts; but she had not; and she, who in all probability was to become a thinking and reasoning animal, might refuse to comply with a compact made before her creation. They might even hate each other; the creature who already lived loathed his own deformity, and might he not conceive a greater abhorence for it when it came before his eyes in the female form? She also might turn with disgust from him to the superior beauty of man; she might quit him, and he be again alone, exasperated by the fresh provocation of being deserted by one of his own species.

Even if they were to leave Europe, and inhabit the deserts of the new world, yet one of the first results of those sympathies for which the dæmon thirsted would be children, and a race of devils would be propagated upon the earth, who might make the very existence of the species of man a condition precarious and full of terror. Had I a right, for my own benefit, to inflict this curse upon everlasting generations? I had before been moved by the sophisms of the being I had created; I had been struck senseless by his fiendish threats: but now, for the first time, the wickedness of my promise burst upon me; I shuddered to think that future ages might curse me as their pest, whose selfishness had not hesitated to buy its own peace at the price perhaps of the existence of the whole human race.

I trembled, and my heart failed within me; when, on looking up, I saw, by the light of the moon, the dæmon at the casement. A ghastly grin wrinkled his lips as he gazed on me, where I sat fulfilling the task which he had allotted to me. Yes, he had followed me in my travels; he had loitered in forests, hid himself in caves, or taken refuge in wide and desert heaths; and he now came to mark my progress, and claim the fulfilment of my promise.

As I looked on him, his countenance expressed the utmost extent of malice and treachery. I thought with a sensation of madness on my promise of creating another like to him, and, trembling with passion, tore to pieces the thing on which I was engaged. The wretch saw me destroy the creature on whose future existence he depended for happiness, and, with a howl of devilish despair and revenge, withdrew.

I left the room, and, locking the door, made a solemn vow in my own heart never to resume my labours; and then, with trembling steps, I sought my own apartment. I was alone; none were near me to dissipate the gloom, and relieve me from the sickening oppresion of the most terrible reveries.

Several hours past, and I remained near my window gazing on the sea; it was almost motionless, for the winds were hushed, and all nature reposed under the eye of the quiet moon. A few fishing vessels alone specked the water, and now and then the gentle breeze wafted the sound of voices, as the fishermen called to one another. I felt the silence, although I was hardly conscious of its extreme profundity, until my ear was suddenly arrested by the paddling of oars near the shore, and a person landed close to my house.

In a few minutes after, I heard the creaking of my door, as if some one endeavoured to open it softly. I trembled from head to foot; I felt a presentiment of who it was, and wished to rouse one of the peasants who dwelt in a cottage not far from mine; but I was overcome by the sensation of helplessness, so often felt in frightful dreams, when you in vain endeavour to fly from an impending danger, and was rooted to the spot.

Presently I heard the sound of footsteps along the passage; the door opened, and the wretch whom I dreaded appeared. Shutting the door, he approached me, and said, in a smothered voice—

"You have destroyed the work which you began; what is it that you intend? Do you dare to break your promise? I have endured toil and misery: I left Switzerland with you; I crept along the shores of the Rhine, among its willow islands, and over the summits of its hills. I have dwelt many months in the heaths of England, and among the deserts of Scotland. I have endured incalculable fatigue, and cold, and hunger; do you dare destroy my hopes?"

"Begone! I do break my promise; never will I create another like yourself, equal in deformity and wickedness."

"Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself unworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power; you believe yourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of day will be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your master;—obey!"

"The hour of my weakness is past, and the period of your power is arrived. Your threats cannot move me to do an act of wickedness; but they confirm me in a resolution of not creating you a companion in vice. Shall I, in cool blood, set loose upon the earth a dæmon, whose delight is in death and wretchedness. Begone! I am firm, and your words will only exasperate my rage."

The monster saw my determination in my face, and gnashed his teeth in the impotence of anger. "Shall each man," cried he, "find a wife for his bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone? I had feelings of affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn. Man, you may hate; but beware! Your hours will pass in dread and misery, and soon the bolt will fall which must ravish from you your happiness for ever. Are you to be happy, while I grovel in the intensity of my wretchedness? You can blast my other passions; but revenge remains—revenge, henceforth dearer than light or food! I may die; but first you, my tyrant and tormentor, shall curse the sun that gazes on your misery. Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful. I will watch with the wiliness of a snake, that I may sting with its venom. Man, you shall repent of the injuries you inflict."

"Devil, cease; and do not poison the air with these sounds of malice. I have declared my resolution to you, and I am no coward to bend beneath words. Leave me; I am inexorable."

"It is well. I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your wedding-night."

I started forward, and exclaimed, "Villain! before you sign my death-warrant, be sure that you are yourself safe."

I would have seized him; but he eluded me, and quitted the house with precipitation: in a few moments I saw him in his boat, which shot across the waters with an arrowy swiftness, and was soon lost amidst the waves.

All was again silent; but his words rung in my ears. I burned with rage to pursue the murderer of my peace, and precipitate him into the ocean. I walked up and down my room hastily and perturbed, while my imagination conjured up a thousand images to torment and sting me. Why had I not followed him, and closed with him in mortal strife? But I had suffered him to depart, and he had directed his course towards the main land. I shuddered to think who might be the next victim sacrificed to his insatiate revenge. And then I thought again of his words—"I will be with you on your wedding-night." That then was the period fixed for the fulfilment of my destiny. In that hour I should die, and at once satisfy and extinguish his malice. The prospect did not move me to fear; yet when I thought of my beloved Elizabeth,—of her tears and endless sorrow, when she should find her lover so barbarously snatched from her,—tears, the first I had shed for many months, streamed from my eyes, and I resolved not to fall before my enemy without a bitter struggle.

The night passed away, and the sun rose from the ocean; my feelings became calmer, if it may be called calmness, when the violence of rage sinks into the depths of despair. I left the house, the horrid scene of the last night's contention, and walked on the beach of the sea, which I almost regarded as an insuperable barrier between me and my fellow-creatures; nay, a wish that such should prove the fact stole across me. I desired that I might pass my life on that barren rock, wearily it is true, but uninterrupted by any sudden shock of misery. If I returned, it was to be sacrificed, or to see those whom I most loved die under the grasp of a dæmon whom I had myself created.

I walked about the isle like a restless spectre, separated from all it loved, and miserable in the separation. When it became noon, and the sun rose higher, I lay down on the grass, and was overpowered by a deep sleep. I had been awake the whole of the preceding night, my nerves were agitated, and my eyes inflamed by watching and misery. The sleep into which I now sunk refreshed me; and when I awoke, I again felt as if I belonged to a race of human beings like myself, and I began to reflect upon what had passed with greater composure; yet still the words of the fiend rung in my ears like a death-knell, they appeared like a dream, yet distinct and oppressive as a reality.

The sun had far descended, and I still sat on the shore, satisfying my appetite, which had become ravenous, with an oaten cake, when I saw a fishing-boat land close to me, and one of the men brought me a packet; it contained letters from Geneva, and one from Clerval, entreating me to join him. He said that nearly a year had elapsed since we had quitted Switzerland, and France was yet unvisited. He entreated me, therefore, to leave my solitary isle, and meet him at Perth, in a week from that time, when we might arrange the plan of our future proceedings. This letter in a degree recalled me to life, and I determined to quit my island at the expiration of two days.

Yet, before I departed, there was a task to perform, on which I shuddered to reflect: I must pack my chemical instruments; and for that purpose I must enter the room which had been the scene of my odious work, and I must handle those utensils, the sight of which was sickening to me. The next morning, at day-break, I summoned sufficient courage, and unlocked the door of my laboratory. The remains of the half-finished creature, whom I had destroyed, lay scattered on the floor, and I almost felt as if I had mangled the living flesh of a human being. I paused to collect myself, and then entered the chamber. With trembling hand I conveyed the instruments out of the room; but I reflected that I ought not to leave the relics of my work to excite the horror and suspicion of the peasants, and I accordingly put them into a basket, with a great quantity of stones, and laying them up, determined to throw them into the sea that very night; and in the mean time I sat upon the beach, employed in cleaning and arranging my chemical apparatus.

Nothing could be more complete than the alteration that had taken place in my feelings since the night of the appearance of the dæmon. I had before regarded my promise with a gloomy despair, as a thing that, with whatever consequences, must be fulfilled; but I now felt as if a film had been taken from before my eyes, and that I, for the first time, saw clearly. The idea of renewing my labours did not for one instant occur to me; the threat I had heard weighed on my thoughts, but I did not reflect that a voluntary act of mine could avert it. I had resolved in my own mind, that to create another like the fiend I had first made would be an act of the basest and most atrocious selfishness; and I banished from my mind every thought that could lead to a different conclusion.

Between two and three in the morning the moon rose; and I then, putting my basket aboard a little skiff, sailed out about four miles from the shore. The scene was perfectly solitary: a few boats were returning towards land, but I sailed away from them. I felt as if I was about the commission of a dreadful crime, and avoided with shuddering anxiety any encounter with my fellow-creatures. At one time the moon, which had before been clear, was suddenly overspread by a thick cloud, and I took advantage of the moment of darkness, and cast my basket into the sea; I listened to the gurgling sound as it sunk, and then sailed away from the spot. The sky became clouded; but the air was pure, although chilled by the north-east breeze that was then rising. But it refreshed me, and filled me with such agreeable sensations, that I resolved to prolong my stay on the water, and fixing the rudder in a direct position, stretched myself at the bottom of the boat. Clouds hid the moon, every thing was obscure, and I heard only the sound of the boat, as its keel cut through the waves; the murmur lulled me, and in a short time I slept soundly.

I do not know how long I remained in this situation, but when I awoke I found that the sun had already mounted considerably. The wind was high, and the waves continually threatened the safety of my little skiff. I found that the wind was north-east, and must have driven me far from the coast from which I had embarked. I endeavoured to change my course, but quickly found that if I again made the attempt the boat would be instantly filled with water. Thus situated, my only resource was to drive before the wind. I confess that I felt a few sensations of terror. I had no compass with me, and was so little acquainted with the geography of this part of the world that the sun was of little benefit to me. I might be driven into the wide Atlantic, and feel all the tortures of starvation, or be swallowed up in the immeasurable waters that roared and buffeted around me. I had already been out many hours, and felt the torment of a burning thirst, a prelude to my other sufferings. I looked on the heavens, which were covered by clouds that flew before the wind only to be replaced by others: I looked upon the sea, it was to be my grave. "Fiend," I exclaimed, "your task is already fulfilled!" I thought of Elizabeth, of my father, and of Clerval; and sunk into a reverie, so despairing and frightful, that even now, when the scene is on the point of closing before me for ever, I shudder to reflect on it.

Some hours passed thus; but by degrees, as the sun declined towards the horizon, the wind died away into a gentle breeze, and the sea became free from breakers. But these gave place to a heavy swell; I felt sick, and hardly able to hold the rudder, when suddenly I saw a line of high land towards the south.

Almost spent, as I was, by fatigue, and the dreadful suspense I endured for several hours, this sudden certainty of life rushed like a flood of warm joy to my heart, and tears gushed from my eyes.

How mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love we have of life even in the excess of misery! I constructed another sail with a part of my dress, and eagerly steered my course towards the land. It had a wild and rocky appearance; but as I approached nearer, I easily perceived the traces of cultivation. I saw vessels near the shore, and found myself suddenly transported back to the neighbourhood of civilized man. I eagerly traced the windings of the land, and hailed a steeple which I at length saw issuing from behind a small promontory. As I was in a state of extreme debility, I resolved to sail directly towards the town as a place where I could most easily procure nourishment. Fortunately I had money with me. As I turned the promontory, I perceived a small neat town and a good harbour, which I entered, my heart bounding with joy at my unexpected escape.

As I was occupied in fixing the boat and arranging the sails, several people crowded towards the spot. They seemed very much surprised at my appearance; but, instead of offering me any assistance, whispered together with gestures that at any other time might have produced in me a slight sensation of alarm. As it was, I merely remarked that they spoke English; and I therefore addressed them in that language: "My good friends," said I, "will you be so kind as to tell me the name of this town, and inform me where I am?"

"You will know that soon enough," replied a man with a gruff voice. "May be you are come to a place that will not prove much to your taste; but you will not be consulted as to your quarters, I promise you."

I was exceedingly surprised on receiving so rude an answer from a stranger; and I was also disconcerted on perceiving the frowning and angry countenances of his companions. "Why do you answer me so roughly?" I replied: "surely it is not the custom of Englishmen to receive strangers so inhospitably."

"I do not know," said the man, "what the custom of the English may be; but it is the custom of the Irish to hate villains."

While this strange dialogue continued, I perceived the crowd rapidly increase. Their faces expressed a mixture of curiosity and anger, which annoyed, and in some degree alarmed me. I inquired the way to the inn; but no one replied. I then moved forward, and a murmuring sound arose from the crowd as they followed and surrounded me; when an ill-looking man approaching, tapped me on the shoulder, and said, "Come, Sir, you must follow me to Mr. Kirwin's, to give an account of yourself."

"Who is Mr. Kirwin? Why am I to give an account of myself? Is not this a free country?"

"Aye, Sir, free enough for honest folks. Mr. Kirwin is a magistrate; and you are to give an account of the death of a gentleman who was found murdered here last night."

This answer startled me; but I presently recovered myself. I was innocent; that could easily be proved: accordingly I followed my conductor in silence, and was led to one of the best houses in the town. I was ready to sink from fatigue and hunger; but, being surrounded by a crowd, I thought it politic to rouse all my strength, that no physical debility might be construed into apprehension or conscious guilt. Little did I then expect the calamity that was in a few moments to overwhelm me, and extinguish in horror and despair all fear of ignominy or death.

I must pause here; for it requires all my fortitude to recall the memory of the frightful events which I am about to relate, in proper detail, to my recollection.

Monday's Illustrated Word: "The Man With Nine Lives!" by Bill Woolfolk (in English)

   art by Syd Shores - Wanted Comics #48 – Orbit Comics, Inc., July 1952.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good Reading: "The Brave Flute-Player" by Ludwig Bechstein (translated into English)

Once on a time there was a merry musician. He was a master of the flute and made his living by travelling about the country playing tunes in towns and villages he passed through.

One evening he was glad to get a lodging in a farm-house, for it was too late to go on to the next village. He was very kindly received. The farmer gave him a good supper in return for the tunes he played on his flute.

Some time during the evening the musician chanced to look out at the window. By the light of the moon he saw the ruins of a fine old castle. "What old castle is that and who owns it?" he asked the farmer.

The farmer in reply told him a long story about how a very rich count had lived there many, many years ago – very rich, but very covetous and miserly too. He had been a tyrant to his tenants, had given alms to none of the poor on his estate or elsewhere. At last had died without heirs, for he could not afford the luxury of a wife, as he said.

After his death the estate fell to his next of kin, but when he came to the castle, he could not find a single penny of the dead count's riches. People liked to think that a great treasure was hidden somewhere, but no one had hit on the right place. And besides, many of those who had entered the castle to search for the money had never shown up again. Therefore the ruler of the province had forbidden anyone to go within the bounds of the castle, and all the people round were warned not to go there.

The musician listened very attentively to all this, and when the farmer had ended his tale, he told the farmer that he had a mind to enter the ruins, granted he would not get afraid of meeting whatever he might find there. The farmer tried hard to persuade him not go there at night. He entreated and threatened, but the musician wanted to go there, and go there he did.

Two of the farm-servants had to take lanterns and accompany the musician to the ruined castle. As soon as they arrived at the gates, he sent them both back with one of the lanterns. The other he took in his hand and went up the steps to the main door. He went in and found himself in a spacious hall with doors on all sides of it. He opened one of them and came into a room. There he set his light on a fine old table, took out his flute and started to play.

The farmer meanwhile had been quite unable to go to bed out of anxiety for his guest's safety so he placed himself at an opened window towards the castle. When he heard the tunes on the flute, he was relieved and thought his guest was safe.

But as his clock struck eleven, the music stopped. At once the farmer imagined that when the clock struck, his guest had been seized by some evil spirit.

But the musician had rested in order to have something to eat, for he had not eaten much at the farmer's table. He went into the next room to see if there was something eatable there. He found a saucepan full of uncooked lentils, a pan of water, some salt and a flask of wine.

He poured the water on the lentils, added some salt and made a fire on the hearth to cook his food over. While the soup was boiling he drank the wine and played some more tunes. Then when the lentils were done enough, he poured them into a dish that stood ready on the table and made a hearty meal.

While he was eating, he looked at his watch and found it was just eleven. In a few minutes after the door suddenly opened and two tall men appeared. They carried a frame between them, with a coffin placed on the frame. They set this without a word on the table before the musician. He was not the least disturbed by it. Then the two lanky men left as silently as they had come.

As soon as they were gone, the musician hastily stood up and opened the coffin. Within it lay a withered, little old man with long grey hair and beard. He did not seem to be quite dead, so the musician took him out and laid him by the fire. The warmth quickly revived the man.

The musician gave him some lentil-soup, and the old man seemed to revive as he ate it, and said to the musician, "Come with me."

Taking his lantern, the musician did as he was told and following the old man down a long flight of steps until they came to a spacious cavern far underground. A great heap of money was lying there. Stopping before it, the old man said to the musician, "Divide this heap into two equally big portions – and if one piece is left over, you will pay with your life!"

The musician laughed at the threat, but nevertheless set about the task. Quickly counting the money, he laid it in two equal heaps. But he found one piece over. He looked for a while at this solitary piece, but he soon thought out what to do: Taking out his pocket-knife, he placed it edgeways on the coin and then split the coin with a hammer into two halves. Then he threw one half on one heap of money and the other on the other heap.

As he did so the old man exclaimed, "You have saved me! I was doomed to watch my treasure for a hundred years, unless anyone should come and manage to divide the heap into two equal portions. All who have tried and given up before you have lost heir lives. But now that you have succeeded one heap is yours and the other half is for the poor."

With these words the old man disappeared. At the same time the musician went up the steps to the room where they had enjoyed lentil soup, took out his flute and played a series of merry tunes on it.

The farmer heard him again and was glad that his guest was alive and playing. As soon as day broke, he went to the castle - anyone could go there in the daytime - and congratulated the musician for having survived the night in the castle.

The musician told the farmer all that had come his way, and when he had told his tale, he went down into the cavern and brought up the gold. Half of it he gave to the poor. With his own half he built himself a good castle on the site of the ruined one and there he lived for the rest of his days, healthy and happy.

Friday's Sung Word: "Estrêla da Manhã" by Noel Rosa and Ary Barroso (in Portuguese)

A estrela da manhã
Quando brilha na amplidão
Faz lembrar uma saudade
Que guardei no coração - ô

Quando à noite olho as estrelas
A brilhar no firmamento
Fico distraída ao vê-las
Esquecendo o meu tormento.

E dos amores que tive
A gozar a mocidade
Só um no meu peito vive
Sob a forma de saudade.

 

 

You can listen "Estrêla da Manhã" sung by Francisco Alves and Madelou Assis

with the Odeon Orchestra here.

Thursday's Serial: "The Pentamerone, or the Story of Stories, Fun For The Little Ones” by Giambattista Basile. (tanslated into English by John Edward Taylor) - V

GAGLIUSO.

Ingratitude, my lord, is a nail, which, driven into the tree of courtesy, causes it to wither; it is a broken channel, by which the foundations of affection are undermined; and a lump of soot, which falling into the dish of friendship destroys its scent and savour; as is seen in daily instances, and among others in the story which I will now tell you.

There was one time in my dear city of Naples an old man, who was as poor as poor could be: he was so wretched, so bare, so light, and with not a farthing in his pocket, that he went naked as a flea. And being about to shake out the bags of life, he called to him his sons, Oratiello and Pippo, and said to them, "I am now called upon by the tenor of my bill to pay the debt I owe to Nature; and believe me, if you are Christians, that I should feel great pleasure in leaving this abode of misery, [1] this den of woes, but that I leave you here behind me, a pair of miserable fellows, as big as Santa Chiara on the five ways of Melito,[2] without a stitch upon your backs, as clean as a barber's basin, as nimble as a serjeant, as dry as a plum-stone, without so much as a fly can carry upon its foot; so that were you to run a hundred miles, not a farthing would drop from you. My ill-fortune has indeed brought me to such beggary that I lead the life of a dog, and just as I am, they may put me down in their books; for I have all along, as you well know, gaped with hunger[3] and gone to bed without a candle. Nevertheless, now that I am dying, I wish to leave you some token of my love. So do you, Oratiello, who are my first-born, take the sieve that hangs yonder against the wall, with which you can earn your bread; and do you, little fellow, take the cat, and remember your daddy." So saying he began to whimper, and presently after said, "God be with you, for it is night!"

Oratiello had his father buried by charity, and then took the sieve, and went riddling here and there and everywhere to gain a livelihood; and the more he riddled the more he earned. And Pippo, taking the cat, said, "Only see now what a pretty legacy my father has left me! I, who am not able to support myself, must now provide for two. Who ever beheld such a miserable inheritance?" But the cat, who overheard this lamentation, said to him, "You are grieving without need, and have more luck than sense; but you little know the good fortune in store for you, and that I am able to make you rich if I set about it." When Pippo heard this, he thanked her pussyship, stroked her three or four times on the back, and commended himself warmly to her. So the cat took compassion upon poor Gagliuso,[4] and every morning, when the Sun, with the bait of light upon his golden hook, fishes for the shades of Night, she betook herself either to the shore of the Chiaja or to the Fish-rock,[5] and catching a goodly grey mullet, or a fine dory, she bagged it, and carried it to the king, and said, "My lord Gagliuso, your Majesty's most humble slave, sends you this fish with all reverence, and says, 'A small present to a great lord.'" Then the king with a joyful face, as one usually shows to those who bring a gift, answered the cat, "Tell this lord, whom I do not know, that I thank him heartily."

At another time the cat would run to the marshes or fields, and when the fowlers had brought down a blackbird, a snipe or a lark, she caught it up, and presented it to the king with the same message. She repeated this trick again and again, until one morning the king said to her, "I feel infinitely obliged to this lord Gagliuso, and am desirous of knowing him, that I may make a return for the kindness he has shown me." And the cat replied, "The desire of my lord Gagliuso is to give his life and blood for your Majesty's crown, and tomorrow morning without fail, as soon as the Sun has set fire to the stubble of the fields of air, he will come and pay his respects to you."

So when the morning came the cat went to the king, and said to him, "Sire, my lord Gagliuso sends to excuse himself for not coming; as last night some of his servants robbed him and ran off, and have not left him a single shirt to his back." When the king heard this, he instantly commanded his servants to take out of his wardrobe a quantity of clothes and linen, and sent them to Gagliuso; and before two hours had passed, Gagliuso went to the palace, conducted by the cat, where he received a thousand compliments from the king, who made him sit beside him, and gave him a banquet that would amaze you.

While they were eating, Gagliuso from time to time turned to the cat and said to her, "My pretty puss, prithee take care that those rags don't slip through our fingers." Then the cat answered, "Be quiet, be quiet; don't be talking of these beggarly things." The king wishing to know what it was, the cat made answer that he had taken a fancy for a small lemon, whereupon the king instantly sent out to the garden for a basketful. But Gagliuso returned to the same tune about the old clothes and shirts, and the cat again told him to hold his tongue. Then the king once more asked what was the matter, and the cat had another excuse ready to make amends for Gagliuso's rudeness.

At last, when they had eaten and had chatted for some time of one thing and another, Gagliuso took his leave; and the cat staid with the king, describing the worth, and the genius, and the judgement of Gagliuso, and above all the great wealth he had in the plains of Rome and Lombardy, which well entitled him to marry into the family of a crowned king. Then the king asked what might be his fortune; and the cat replied, that no one could ever count the moveables, the immoveables, and the household furniture of this immensely rich man, who did not even know what he possessed; and if the king wished to be informed of it, he had only to send people with her out of the kingdom, and she would prove to him that there was no wealth in the world equal to his.

Then the king called some trusty persons, and commanded them to inform themselves minutely of the truth; so they followed in the footsteps of the cat, who, as soon as they had passed the frontier of the kingdom, from time to time ran on before, under the pretext of providing refreshments for them on the road; and whenever she met a flock of sheep, a herd of cows, a troop of horses or a drove of pigs, she would say to the herdsmen and keepers, "Ho! have a care! there's a troop of robbers coming to carry off everything in the country. So if you wish to escape their fury, and to have your things respected, say that they all belong to the lord Gagliuso, and not a hair will be touched."

She said the same at all the farm-houses that she passed on the road; so that wherever the king's people came, they found the pipe tuned; for everything they met with, they were told, belonged to the lord Gagliuso. So at last they were tired of asking, and went back to the king, telling seas and mountains of the riches of lord Gagliuso. The king, hearing this report, promised the cat a good drink if she should manage to bring about the match; and the cat, playing the shuttle between them, at last concluded the marriage. So Gagliuso came, and the king gave him his daughter and a large portion.

At the end of a month of festivities Gagliuso said he wished to take his bride to his estates; so the king accompanied them as far as the frontiers, and he went to Lombardy, where, by the cat's advice, he purchased a quantity of lands and territories, and became a baron.

Gagliuso, now seeing himself so extremely rich, thanked the cat more than words can express, saying that he owed his life and his greatness to her good offices, and that the ingenuity of a cat had done more for him than the wit of his father; therefore she might dispose of his life and property as she pleased; and he gave her his word that when she died, which he prayed might not be for a hundred years, he would have her embalmed and put into a golden coffin, and set in his own chamber, that he might keep her memory always before his eyes.

The cat listened to these lavish professions, and before three days she pretended to be dead, and stretched herself at her full length in the garden; and when Gagliuso's wife saw her, she cried out, "O husband, what a sad misfortune! the cat is dead!"—"Devil die with her!" said Gagliuso, "better she than we!"—"What shall we do with her?" replied the wife. "Take her by the leg," said he, "and fling her out of the window."

Then the cat, who heard this fine reward when she least expected it, began to say, "Is this the return you make for my taking you from beggary? is this the thanks I get for freeing you from rags that you might have hung distaffs with? is this my reward for having put good clothes on your back, and fed you well when you were a poor starved, miserable, tatter-brogued ragamuffin? But such is the fate of him who washes an ass's head. Go, a curse upon all I have done for you! you are not worth spitting upon in the face. A fine gold coffin you had prepared for me! a fine funeral you were going to give me! Go now, serve, labour, toil, sweat, to get this fine reward! Unhappy is he who does a good deed in hopes of a return! Well was it said by the philosopher, 'He who lies down an ass, an ass he finds himself.' But let him who does most expect least: smooth words and ill deeds deceive alike both wise and fools."

So saying she threw her cloak about her, and went her way; and all that Gagliuso with the utmost humility could do to soothe her was of no avail: she would not return, but kept running on without ever turning her head about, and saying.

 

"Heaven protect us from a rich man grown poor.

And from a beggar who of wealth has got store."

 

The poor cat was compassionated beyond measure for seeing herself so ill rewarded; but one of those present observed, that she might have found some consolation in not being alone; for at the present day ingratitude has become a domestic evil; and there are many others also who, after they have worked and toiled, and spent their money, and ruined their health, to serve this race of ungrateful people, and have fancied themselves sure of another and a better reward than a golden coffin, find themselves destined to be buried in the hospital. Meanwhile, seeing that Popa was preparing to speak, all present were silent, and she began as follows.

 

1.       Mantracchio: a miserable port of Naples so named. The word is Arabic, and signifies a Port.

2.       A place near Naples.

3.       Literally, 'I have always made gapings and crosses.' This refers to a superstitious practice formerly common in Naples of making the sign of the cross over the mouth when a person gaped: it arose from the notion that the evil spirits seized such moments to enter the body.

4.       He is before called Pippo, which is probably an abbreviation of piccolo. In another tale Miuccio is called Pippo.

5.       The Chiaja and Preta de lo Pesce—places in the bay of Naples.

 

 

THE SERPENT.

It always happens that he who is over-curious in prying into the affairs of other people strikes his own foot with the axe; and the King of Long Furrow is a proof of this, who, by poking his nose into secrets, brought his daughter into trouble, and ruined his unhappy son-in-law, who, in attempting to make a thrust with his head, was left with his head broken.

There was once on a time a gardener's wife, who longed to have a son more than the suitor longs for a sentence in his favour, a sick man for cold water, or the innkeeper for the arrival of the mail-coach.

It chanced one day that the poor man went to the mountain to get a faggot; and when he came home and opened it, he found a pretty little serpent among the twigs. At the sight of this, Sapatella (for that was the name of the gardener's wife) heaved a deep sigh and said, "Alas! even the serpents have their little serpents; but I brought ill-luck with me into this world." At these words the little serpent spoke, and said, "Well then, since you cannot have children, take me for a child, and you will make a good bargain, for I shall love you better than my own mother." Sapatella, hearing a serpent speak thus, had like to have fainted; but plucking up courage she said, "If it were for nothing else than for the affection which you offer, I am content to take you, and treat you as if you were really my own child." So saying, she assigned him a hole in a corner of the house for a cradle, and gave him for food a share of what she had, with the greatest affection in the world.

The serpent increased in size from day to day; and when he was grown pretty big, he said to Cola Matteo, the gardener, whom he looked upon as his father, "Daddy, I want to get married."—"With all my heart," said Cola Matteo; "we must look out for another serpent like yourself, and try to make up a match between you."—"What serpent are you talking of?" said the little serpent: "I suppose, forsooth, we are all the same with the vipers and adders! It is easy to see you are nothing but an Antony, and make a nosegay of every plant. I want the king's daughter; so go this very instant and ask the king for her, and tell him it is a serpent that demands her."

Cola Matteo, who was a plain, straightforward sort of man, and knew nothing about matters of this kind, went innocently to the king and delivered his message, saying, "The messenger should not be beaten more, than the sands upon the shore. Know then that a serpent wants your daughter for his wife, and I am come therefore to try if we can make a match between a serpent and a dove." The king, who saw at a glance that he was a blockhead, to get rid of him said, "Go and tell the serpent that I will give him my daughter if he turns all the fruit of this orchard into gold." And so saying, he burst out a-laughing and dismissed him.

When Cola Matteo went home, and delivered the answer to the serpent, he said, "Go tomorrow morning and gather up all the fruit-stones you can find in the city, and sow them in the orchard, and you will see pearls strung on rushes." Cola Matteo, who was no conjuror, neither knew how to comply or refuse; so next morning, as soon as the Sun with his golden broom had swept away the dirt of the Night from the fields watered by the Dawn, he took a basket on his arm, and went from street to street picking up all the stones of peaches, plums, nectarines, apricots and cherries that he could find: then he went to the orchard of the palace, and sowed them as the serpent had desired. In an instant the trees shot up, and stems and branches, leaves, flowers and fruit, were all of glistening gold; at the sight of which the king was in an ecstasy of amazement, and cried aloud with joy.

But when Cola Matteo was sent by the serpent to the king to demand the performance of his promise, the king said, "Fair and easy, I must first have something else, if he would have my daughter; and it is that he make all the walls and the ground in the orchard to be of precious stones."

When the gardener told this to the serpent, he made answer, "Go tomorrow morning and gather up all the bits of broken crockery-ware you can find, and throw them on the walks, and on the wall of the orchard, for we will not let this difficulty stand in our way." As soon therefore as the Night, having stood by and backed the robbers, is banished from the sky, and goes about collecting the faggots of twilight. Cola Matteo took a basket under his arm, and went about collecting bits of tiles, lids and bottoms of pipkins, pieces of plates and dishes, handles of jugs, spouts of pitchers; picking up all the spoilt, broken, flawed, cracked lamps, and all the fragments of pottery of every sort he could find in his way. And when he had done all that the serpent had told him, there was to be seen the whole orchard mantled with emeralds and chalcedonies, and coated with rubies and carbuncles, in such sort, that the lustre sequestered the sight in the warehouses of the eyes, and planted admiration in the fields of the heart. The king was struck all of a heap at the sight, and knew not what had befallen him. But when the serpent sent again to let him know that he was expecting the performance of his promise, the king answered, "Oh! all that has been done is nothing, if he does not turn this palace into gold."

When Cola Matteo told the serpent this new fancy of the king's, the serpent said, "Go and get a bundle of herbs of different kinds, and rub the bottom of the palace walls with them: we shall see if we cannot satisfy this whim." Away went Cola Matteo that very moment, and made a great broom of cabbages, radishes, rockets, purslain, turnips and carrots; and when he had rubbed the lower part of the palace with it, instantly you might see it shining like a gilded pill to purge melancholy from a hundred houses that were ill-treated by fortune. And when the gardener came again to demand the princess to wife in the name of the serpent, the king, seeing all retreat cut off, called his daughter, and said to her, "My dear Grannonia, I have endeavoured to get rid of a suitor who asked you for his wife, by making such conditions as seemed to me impossible; but seeing myself foiled, and obliged to consent I know not how, I pray you, as you are a dutiful daughter, to enable me to keep my word, and to be content with what Heaven wills and I am obliged to do."

"Do as you please, papa," said Grannonia; "I shall not oppose a single jot of your will." The king hearing this bade Cola Matteo tell the serpent to come.

The serpent, on receiving the invitation, set out for the palace mounted on a car all of gold, and drawn by four golden elephants. But wherever he came the people fled away in terror, at seeing such a large and frightful serpent making his progress through the city: and when he arrived at the palace, the courtiers all trembled like rushes, and ran away, and even the very scullions did not dare to stay in the place. The king and queen also, shivering with fear, crept into a chamber, and Grannonia alone stood her ground; for though her father and her mother kept crying out, "Fly, fly, Grannonia! save yourself, Rienzo[1]!” she would not stir from the spot, saying, "Why should I fly from the husband whom you have given me?" And when the serpent came into the room, he took Grannonia by the waist in his tail, and gave her such a shower of kisses, that the king writhed like a worm; and I warrant, if he had been bled, not a single drop of blood would have come. Then the serpent carried her into another room, and fastened the door; and shaking off his skin on the ground, he became a most beautiful youth, with a head all covered with ringlets of gold, and with eyes that would enchant you.

When the king saw the serpent going into the room with his daughter, and shutting the door after him, he said to his wife, "Heaven have mercy on that good soul my daughter! for she is dead to a certainty, and that accursed serpent has doubtless swallowed her down like the yolk of an egg!" Then he put his eye to the keyhole, to see what had become of her; but when he saw the exceeding beauty of the youth, and the skin of the serpent that he had left lying on the ground, he gave the door a kick; then in they rushed, and taking the skin flung it into the fire and burned it.

When the youth saw this, he cried out, "Ah you renegade dogs, you have done for me!" and instantly he turned himself into a dove, and was going to fly away through the window; but he struck his head against the panes until he broke them, and cut himself in such a manner that there did not remain a whole spot on his pate.

Grannonia, who thus saw herself at the same moment happy and unhappy, joyful and miserable, rich and poor, tore her face and bewailed her fate, reproaching her father and mother for this interruption of pleasure, this poisoning of sweets, this overthrow of good-fortune; but they excused themselves, declaring that they had not meant to do harm. But Grannonia went on weeping and wailing, until Night came forth to illuminate the catafalque of the sky for the funeral pomp of the Sun; and when she saw that all were in bed, she took her jewels, which were in a writing-desk, and went out by a back-door, intending to search everywhere till she found the treasure she had lost.

So she went out of the city, guided by the light of the moon, and on her way she met a fox, who asked her if she wished for company. "Of all things, my friend," answered Grannonia, "I should be delighted, for I am not over-well acquainted with the country." So they travelled along together till they came to a wood, where the trees, at play like children, were making baby-houses for the shadows to lie in; and being now wearied with their journey, and wishing to repose, they retired to the covert of the leaves, where a fountain was playing carnival pranks with the green grass, flinging the water on it by dishfuls; and stretching themselves on a mattress of tender soft grass, they paid the duty of repose which they owed to Nature for the merchandize of life.

They did not awake till the Sun, with his usual fire, gave the signal to sailors and couriers to set out on their road; and after they awoke, they still stayed for some time listening to the singing of the various birds, for Grannonia showed great pleasure in hearing the warbling and twittering they made; and the fox seeing this, said to her, "You would feel twice as much pleasure if you understood, like me, what they are saying." At these words Grannonia—for women are by nature as curious as they are talkative—begged the fox to tell her what he had heard the birds saying in their own language. So after having let her entreat him for a long time, in order to raise her curiosity about what he was going to relate, he told her that the birds were talking to one another of what had lately befallen the king's son, who was as beautiful as a fay, and because he would not comply with the wishes of a wicked ogress, had been laid under a spell by her magic power to pass seven years in the form of a serpent; that he had nearly ended the seven years, when he fell in love with the daughter of a king; and being one day in a room with the maiden, and having cast his skin on the ground, her father and mother, out of curiosity, rushed in and burned his skin; whereupon as the prince was flying away in the shape of a dove, he broke a pane in the window to escape, and had hurt his head in such a manner that he was given over by the doctors.

Grannonia, who thus heard her own onions spoken of, first of all asked whose son this prince was, and then if there was any hope of cure for his accident. And the fox replied, that the birds had said his father was the king of Big Valley, and that there was no other secret for stopping the holes in his skull, to prevent his soul getting out at them, than to anoint his wounds with the blood of those very birds who had been telling the story. When Grannonia heard these words, she fell down on her knees to the fox, entreating of him to oblige her by catching those birds for her, that she might get their blood; adding, that then, like honest comrades, they would share the gain. "Fair and softly," said the fox, "let us wait till night, and when the birds are gone to bed, let your mammy alone, for I will climb up the tree and weasen them one after another."

So they passed the whole day, talking one time of the beauty of the young prince, then of the mistake made by the maiden's father, then of the mishap that had befallen the prince, chatting and chatting away till Day was gone, and Earth had spread out her large black piece of pasteboard, to collect the wax that might drop from the tapers of Night. Then the fox, as soon as he saw all the birds fast asleep on the branches, stole up quite softly, and, one after another, throttled all the linnets, larks, tomtits, blackbirds, woodpeckers, thrushes, jays, flycatchers, little owls, goldfinches, bullfinches, chaffinches and redbreasts that were on the trees. And when he had killed them all, they put the blood into a little bottle which the fox carried with him to refresh himself on the road.

Grannonia was so overjoyed that she hardly touched the ground; but the fox said to her, "What fine joy in a dream is this, my daughter! you have done nothing unless you have my blood also to mix with that of the birds;" and so saying he set off running away. Grannonia, who saw all her hopes destroyed, had recourse to women's art, cunning and flattery; and she said to him, "Gossip fox, there would be some reason for your saving your hide if I were not under so many obligations to you, and if there were no other foxes in the world; but as you know how much I owe you, and know also that there is no scarcity of the like of you in these plains, you may rely on my good faith. So don't act like the cow that kicks down the pad when she has just filled it with milk. You have done the chief part, and now you fail at the best. Do stop; believe me, and come with me to the city of this king, where you may sell me for a slave if you will."

The fox, who never dreamed that the quintessence of foxery was to be met with, found himself out-foxed by a woman. So he agreed to travel on with Grannonia; but they had hardly gone fifty paces, when she lifted up the stick she carried, and gave him with it such a neat rap that he forthwith stretched his legs. Then cutting his throat, she quickly took the blood and poured it into the little bottle; and setting off again, she stopped not until she came to Big Valley, where she went straightway to the royal palace, and sent word to the king that she was come to cure the prince.

Then the king ordered her to come into his presence, and he was astonished at seeing a girl undertake a thing which the best doctors in his kingdom had failed to do: however, as a trial could do no harm, he said that he wished greatly to see the experiment made. But Grannonia answered, "If I show you the effect that you desire, you must promise to give him to me for a husband." The king, who looked upon his son to be all one as dead, answered her, "If you give him to me safe and sound, I will give him to you sound and safe; for it is no great matter to give a husband to her who gives me a son."

So they went to the chamber of the prince, and hardly had she anointed him with the blood, when he found himself just as if nothing had ever ailed him. And Grannonia, when she saw the prince stout and hearty, bade the king keep his word; whereupon the king turning round to his son said, "My son, a moment ago you were all but dead, and now I see you alive, and can hardly believe it. Therefore, as I have promised this maiden, that if she cured you she should have you for a husband, now that Heaven has shown you favour, enable me to perform my promise, by all the love you bear me, since gratitude obliges me to pay this debt."

When the prince heard these words he replied, "Sir, I would that I had such freedom of my will as to prove to you the love I bear you; but as I have already pledged my faith to another woman, you would not consent that I should break my word, nor would this maiden wish me to do such a wrong to her whom I love; nor can I indeed alter my mind."

Grannonia, hearing this, felt a secret pleasure not to be described at finding herself still alive in the memory of the prince; her whole face became crimson, and she said, "If I should induce this maiden whom you love to resign her claims to me, would you then consent to my wish?"—"Never," replied the prince, never will I banish from this breast the fair image of her I love; and whether she makes for me a conserve of her love, or gives me a dose of cassia, I shall ever remain of the same mind and will; and I would sooner see myself in danger of losing my place at the table of life, than play such a trick or make this exchange."

Grannonia could no longer remain in the trammels of disguise, and discovered to the prince who she was; for the chamber being darkened on account of the wounds in his head, and she being disguised, he had not known her. But the prince, now that he recognized her, embraced her with a joy that would amaze you, telling his father who she was, and what he had done and suffered for her. Then they sent to invite her parents, the king and queen of Long-Field, and they celebrated the wedding with wonderful festivity, making great sport of the ninny of a fox, and concluding at the last of the last, that

 

"Pain doth indeed a seasoning prove

Unto the joys of constant love."

 

From beginning to end Popa's story made the women laugh outright; but where it spoke of their cunning, which was sufficient to outwit a fox, they were near bursting their sides. And truly woman has artful devices strung like beads by hundreds on every hair of her head: fraud is her mother, falsehood is her nurse, flattery her governess, deceit her counsellor, and illusion her companion, so that she turns and twists man about just as she pleases. But let us return to Antonella, who was impatient to speak; and presently, after mustering her thoughts, she spoke as follows.

 

1.       This apparently alludes to the fate of Cola Rienzo (Nicola di Lorenzo), the Roman patriot, which may have become proverbial.—K.

 

 

THE SHE-BEAR.

Truly the wise man said well, that a command of gall cannot be obeyed like one of sugar. A man must require just and reasonable things, if he would see the scales of obedience properly trimmed. From orders which are improper springs resistance which is not easily overcome; as happened to the King of Rough-Rock, who, by asking what he ought not of his daughter, caused her to run away from him, at the risk of losing both honour and life.

There lived, it is said, once upon a time a King of Rough-Rock, who had a wife the very mother of beauty; but in the full career of her years, she fell from the horse of health and broke her life. Before the candle of life went out at the auction of her years[1], she called her husband and said to him, "I know you have always loved me tenderly; show me therefore at the close of my days the completion of your love, by promising me never to marry again, unless you find a woman as beautiful as I have been; otherwise I leave you my curse, and shall bear you hatred even in the other world."

The king, who loved his wife beyond measure, hearing this her last wish, burst into tears, and for some time could not answer a single word. At last, when he had done weeping, he said to her, "Sooner than take another wife, may the gout lay hold on me, may I have my head cut off like a mackarel[2]! My dearest love, drive such a thought from your mind; do not believe in dreams, or that I could love any other woman; you were the first new coat of my love, and you shall carry away with you the last rags of my affection."

As he said these words, the poor young queen, who had the death-rattle in her throat, turned up her eyes and stretched out her feet. When the king saw her life thus running out, he unstopped the channels of his eyes, and made such a howling and beating and outcry, that all the Court came running up, calling on the name of the dear soul, and upbraiding Fortune for taking her from him; and plucking out his beard, he cursed the stars, that had sent him such a misfortune. But bearing in mind the maxim, "Pain in one's elbow and pain for one's wife are alike hard to bear, but are soon over," ere the Night had gone forth into the place-of-arms in the sky to muster the bats, he began to count upon his fingers and to reflect thus to himself: "Here is my wife dead, and I am left a wretched widower, with no hope of seeing any one but this poor daughter whom she has left me. I must therefore try to discover some means or other of having a son and heir. But where shall I look? where shall I find a woman equal in beauty to my wife? every one appears a witch in comparison with her; where then shall I find another with a bit of stick, or seek another with the bell[3], if Nature made Nardella (may she be in glory!) and then broke the mould[4]? Alas, in what a labyrinth has she put me, in what a perplexity has the promise I made her left me! But what do I say? I am running away before I have seen the wolf; let me open eyes and ears and look about: may there not be some other she-ass in Nardella's stable? is it possible that the world should be lost to me? is there such a dearth of women, or is the race extinct?"

So saying he forthwith issued a proclamation and command by Master Chiommiento, that all the handsome women in the world should come to the touchstone of beauty, for he would take the most beautiful to wife and endow her with a kingdom. Now when this news was spread abroad, there was not a woman in the universe who did not come to try her luck,—not a witch, however ugly, who staid behind; for when it is a question of beauty, no scullion-wench will acknowledge herself surpassed, no sea-ork will yield: every one piques herself on being the handsomest; and if the looking-glass tells her the truth, she blames the glass for being untrue, and the quicksilver for being put on badly.

When the town was thus filled with women, the king had them all drawn up in a line; and he walked up and down, from top to bottom, like a baboon that is never still; and as he examined and measured each from head to foot, one appeared to him wry-browed, another long-nosed, another broad-mouthed, another thick-lipped, another tall as a maypole, another short and dumpy, another too stout, another too slender; the Spaniard did not please him on account of her dark colour, the Neapolitan was not to his fancy on account of her waddling gait, the German appeared cold and icy, the Frenchwoman frivolous and giddy, the Venetian with her light hair looked like a distaff of flax. At the end of the end, one for this cause and another for that, he sent them all away, with one hand before and the other behind; and seeing that so many fair faces were all show and no wool, he turned his thoughts to his own daughter, saying, "Why do I go seeking Maria at Ravenna, when my daughter Preziosa is formed in the same mould of beauty as her mother? I have this fair face here in my house, and yet go looking for it at the fag-end of the world."

When Preziosa heard this, she retired to her chamber, and bewailing her ill fortune, she did not leave a hair upon her head; and whilst she was lamenting thus, an old woman came to her, who was her confidant. As soon as she saw Preziosa, who seemed to belong more to the other world than to this, and heard the cause of her grief, the old woman said to her, "Cheer up, my daughter; do not despair; there is a remedy for every evil save death. Now listen: if your father speaks to you thus once again, put this bit of wood into your mouth, and instantly you will be changed into a she-bear; then off with you! for in his fright he will let you depart; and go straight to the wood, where Heaven has kept good-fortune in store for you since the day you were born: and whenever you wish to appear a woman, as you are and will remain, only take the piece of wood out of your mouth, and you will return to your true form." Then Preziosa embraced the old woman, and giving her a good apronful of meal, and ham and bacon, sent her away.

As soon as the Sun began to change his quarters, the king ordered the musicians to come; and inviting all his lords and vassals he held a great feast. And after dancing for five or six hours, they all sat down to table, and ate and drank beyond measure. Then the king asked his courtiers whether he could not marry Preziosa, as she was the picture of his dead wife. But the instant Preziosa heard this, she slipped the bit of wood into her mouth, and took the figure of a terrible she-bear; at the sight of which all present were frightened out of their wits, and ran off as fast as they could scamper.

Meanwhile Preziosa went out, and took her way to a wood, where the Shades were holding a consultation how they might do some mischief to the Sun at the close of day. And there she staid, in the pleasant companionship of the other animals, until the son of the king of Running-Water came to hunt in that part of the country, who at the sight of the bear had like to have died on the spot. But when he saw the beast come gently up to him, wagging her tail like a little dog and rubbing her sides against him, he took courage, and patted her, and said, "Good bear, good bear! there, there! poor beast, poor beast!" Then he led her home, and ordered that she should be taken good care of; and he had her put into a garden close to the royal palace, that he might see her from the window whenever he wished.

One day, when all the people of the house were gone out, and the prince was left alone, he went to the window to look out at the bear; and there he beheld Preziosa, who had taken the piece of wood out of her mouth, combing her golden tresses. At the sight of this beauty, which was beyond the beyonds, he had like to have lost his senses with amazement, and tumbling down the stairs he ran out into the garden. But Preziosa, who was on the watch and observed him, popped the piece of wood into her mouth, and was instantly changed into a bear again.

When the prince came down and looked about in vain for Preziosa, whom he had seen from the window above, he was so amazed at the trick that a deep melancholy came over him, and in four days he fell sick, crying continually, "My bear, my bear!" His mother, hearing him wailing thus, imagined that the bear had done him some hurt, and gave orders that she should be killed. But the servants, enamoured of the tameness of the bear, who made herself beloved by the very stones in the road, took pity on her, and, instead of killing her, they led her to the wood, and told the queen that they had put an end to her.

When this came to the ears of the prince, he acted in a way to pass belief; ill or well he jumped out of bed, and was going at once to make mincemeat of the servants. But when they told him the truth of the affair, he jumped on horseback, half-dead as he was, and went rambling about and seeking everywhere, until at length he found the bear. Then he took her home again, and putting her into a chamber said to her, "O lovely morsel for a king who art shut up in this skin! O candle of love, who art enclosed within this hairy lanthorn! wherefore all this trifling? do you wish to see me pine and pant, and die by inches? I am wasting away, without hope, and tormented by thy beauty; and you see clearly the proof, for I am shrunk two-thirds in size, like wine boiled down, and am nothing but skin and bone, for the fever is double-stitched to my veins. So lift up the curtain of this hairy hide, and let me gaze upon the spectacle of thy beauty! raise, O raise the leaves off this basket, and let me get a sight of the fine fruit beneath! lift up that curtain, and let my eyes pass in to behold the pomp of wonders! Who has shut up so smooth a creature in a prison woven of hair? who has locked up so rich a treasure in a leathern chest? Let me behold this display of graces, and take in payment all my love; for nothing but this bear's-grease can cure the nervous spasms I endure."

But when he had said and had said, this and a great deal more, and still saw that all his words were thrown away, he took to his bed again, and had such a desperate fit that the doctors prognosticated badly of his case. Then his mother, who had no other joy in the world, sat down by his bedside, and said to him, "My son, whence comes all this grief? what melancholy humour has seized you? you are young, you are loved, you are great, you are rich,—what then is it you want, my son? speak—a bashful beggar carries an empty bag. If you want a wife, only choose, and I will bring the match about; do you take, and I'll pay. Do you not see that your illness is an illness to me? your pulse beats with fever in your veins, and my heart beats with illness in my brain, for I have no other support of my old-age than you. So be cheerful now, and cheer up my heart, and do not see the whole kingdom thrown into mourning, this house into lamentation, and your mother forlorn and heart-broken."

When the prince heard these words, he said, "Nothing can console me but the sight of the bear; therefore, if you wish to see me well again, let her be brought into this chamber: I will have no one else to attend me, and make my bed, and cook for me, but she herself; and you may be sure that this pleasure will make me well in a trice."

Thereupon his mother, although she thought it ridiculous enough for the bear to act as cook and chambermaid, and feared that her son was not in his right mind, yet, in order to gratify him, had the bear fetched. And when the bear came up to the prince's bed, she raised her paw, and felt the patient's pulse; which made the queen laugh outright, for she thought every moment that the bear would scratch his nose. Then the prince said, "My dear bear, will you not cook for me, and give me my food, and wait upon me?" and the bear nodded her head, to show that she accepted the office. Then his mother had some fowls brought, and a fire lighted on the hearth in the same chamber, and some water set to boil; whereupon the bear laying hold on a fowl, scalded and plucked it handily, and drew it, and then stuck one portion of it on the spit, and with the other part she made such a delicious hash, that the prince, who could not relish even sugar, licked his fingers at the taste. And when he had done eating, the bear handed him drink with such grace, that the queen was ready to kiss her on her forehead. Thereupon the prince arose, and the bear quickly set about making the bed; and running into the garden, she gathered a clothful of roses and citron-flowers, and strewed them over it, so that the queen said the bear was worth her weight in gold, and that her son had good reason to be so fond of her.

But when the prince saw these pretty offices, they only added fuel to the fire; and if before he wasted by ounces, he now melted away by pounds; and he said to the queen, "My lady mother, if I do not give this bear a kiss, the breath will leave my body." Whereupon the queen, seeing him fainting away, said, "Kiss him, kiss him, my beautiful beast! let me not see my poor son die of longing." Then the bear went up to the prince, and taking him by the cheeks[5] kissed him again and again. Meanwhile (I know not how it was) the piece of wood slipped out of Preziosa's mouth, and she remained in the arms of the prince the most beautiful creature in the world; and pressing her to his heart he said, "I have caught you, my little rogue! you shall not escape from me again without a good reason." At these words Preziosa, adding the colour of modesty to the picture of her natural beauty, said to him, "I am indeed in your hands,—only guard my honour, and take me where you will."

Then the queen inquired who the beautiful maiden was, and what had brought her to this savage life; and Preziosa related the whole story of her misfortunes, at which the queen, praising her as a good and virtuous girl, told her son that she was content that Preziosa should be his wife. Then the prince, who desired nothing else in life, forthwith pledged her his faith; and the mother giving them her blessing, this happy marriage was celebrated with great feasting and illuminations, and Preziosa experienced the truth of the saying, that

"One who acts well may always expect good."

When Antonella's story was ended, it was loudly applauded as beautiful and charming, and offering a good example of a virtuous maiden. And now Ciulla's turn being come, she began as follows.

 

1.       It is customary in Naples (as also in France and Spain) to light a candle at auctions; and when it is burnt out, no further bidding can be made. Goods used to be sold thus in this country, by what was called 'inch of candle.'

2.       Sia fatto comm' a starace. A starace is a fish, which ia eaten with ita head pulled off.

3.       As children hunt for anything lost in the sand with a little stick (spruoccolo), and the town-crier goes about with his bell.

4.       So Ariosto says—"Natura il fece e poi ruppe la stampa."

5.       Pigliatala a pezzechille. A common practice at Naples in kissing is to nip the person on each cheek at the same time with finger and thumb.

 

 

 

 

THE DOVE.

He who is born a prince, should not act like a beggar-boy: a man who is high in rank ought not to set a bad example to those below him, for the little jackass learns from the big one to eat straw. It is no wonder therefore that Heaven sends him troubles by bushels, as happened to a prince, who was brought into constant trouble for ill-treating and tormenting a poor woman; so that he was near losing his life miserably.

About eight miles from Naples, in the direction of the Astruni[1], there was once a wood of fig-trees and poplars, which the sun's darts shot at, but could never penetrate. In this wood stood a half-ruined cottage, in which dwelt an old woman, who was as light of teeth as she was burdened with years, as high with her hump as she was low in fortune: she had a hundred wrinkles in her face, but a great many more in her purse; and although her head was covered with silver, she had not the hundred-and-twentieth part of a carlino to revive her spirit; so that she went from one thatched cottage to another begging alms, to keep life in her. But as folks now-a-days much sooner give a purse full of crowns to a crafty spy than a farthing to a poor needy man, she had to labour for a whole day to get a dish of kidney-beans, and at a time when there was such a plenty of them in the land that few houses could contain the heaps. But of a truth an old kettle never lacks holes and bumps, nor a starved horse flies, nor a fallen tree the axe. Now one day the poor old woman, after having washed the beans, and put them into a pot, and placed it outside the window, went her way to the wood to get some sticks, in order to boil them. And as she was going and returning, Nardo Aniello, the king's son, passed by the cottage on his way to the chase, and seeing the pot at the window he took a great fancy to have a fling at it; and he made a bet with his attendants, to see who should fling the straightest, and hit it in the middle with a stone. Then they began to throw at the innocent pot, and in three or four casts the prince hit it to a hair and won the wager.

The old woman returned just at the moment when they had gone away; and seeing the sad disaster, she began to act as if she were beside herself, crying, "Ay, let him stretch out his arm, and go about boasting how he has broken this pot! the villainous rascal, who has sown my beans out of season! And yet, if he had no compassion for my misery, he should have had some regard for his own interest, and not have cast to the ground the escutcheon of his own house, nor trodden underfoot things that other folks carry on their heads[2]. But let him go! and I pray Heaven on my bare knees, and from the bottom of my soul, that he may fall in love with the daughter of some ogress, who may plague and torment him in every way[3]. May his mother-in-law give him such a curse, that he may see himself live on and bewail himself as dead; and being spell-bound by the beauty of the daughter and the arts of the mother, may he never be able to escape, but be obliged to remain,—ay indeed till he burst with the tormentings of that odious harpy! and may she order him about with a cudgel in her hand, and give him bread with a little fork[4], that he may have good cause to sigh and lament over my beans which he has spilt on the ground."

The old woman's curses took wing and flew up to heaven in a trice; so that, notwithstanding what the proverb says, "For a woman's curse you are never the worse," and "The coat of a horse that has been cursed always shines," she rated the prince so soundly that he well-nigh jumped out of his skin.

Scarcely had two hours passed, when the prince, losing himself in a wood and parted from his attendants, met a beautiful maiden, who was going along picking up snails, and saying with a laugh,

 

"Snail, snail, put out your horn,

Your mother is laughing you to scorn,

For she has a little son just born[5]."

 

When the prince saw appear before him this cabinet of the most precious things of Nature, this bank of the richest deposits of heaven, this arsenal of the most powerful shafts of Love, he knew not what had befallen him; and as the beams from the eyes of that plump crystal face fell upon the tinder of his heart, he was all in a flame, so that he became a limekiln, wherein the stones of designs were burnt to build the house of hopes.

Now Filadoro (for so the maiden was named) was no wiser than other people[6]; and the prince, being a smart young fellow with handsome moustachios, pierced her heart through and through; so that they stood looking at one another for compassion with their eyes, and, even if their tongues had had the pip, their looks were pets of the Vicaria[7], that proclaimed aloud the secret of the soul. After they had both remained thus for a long time, with the mumps in their throat, unable to utter a single word, the prince at last, turning the stopcock of his voice, addressed Filadoro thus:—"From what meadow has this flower of beauty sprung? from what heaven has this store of grace been showered down? from what mine has this treasure of beauteous things come to light? O happy woods, O fortunate groves, which this nobility inhabits, which this illumination of the festivals of love irradiates! O ye groves and woods, in which are cut, not broomsticks or beams for the gallows or lids for pitchers, but gates of the temple of beauty, rafters of the dwelling of the Graces, and rods for the shafts of Love!"

"Kiss this hand, my lord," answered Filadoro; "not so much modesty; for all the praise that you have bestowed on me belongs to your virtues, not to my merits; for I am a woman, who am my own standard, and I do not wish to be measured by another; such as I am, handsome or ugly, black or white, fat or thin, notable or stupid, a witch or a fairy, as pretty as a little doll or as frightful as a dragon, I am wholly at your command; for your manly form has captivated my heart, your princely mien has pierced me through from side to side, and from this moment I give myself up to you for ever as a chained slave."

These were not words, but the sound of a trumpet, which called the prince to the table of amorous joys, or rather summoned him to horse in the combat of love; and as soon as he saw but a finger of tenderness held out to him, he seized at once her whole hand, kissing the ivory hook that had caught his heart. At this ceremony of the prince, Filadoro's face grew as red as scarlet, or rather like the palette of a painter, on which are seen mixed the vermilion of shame, the white-lead of fear, the verdigris of hope and the cinnabar of desire. But the more Nardo Aniello wished to continue speaking, the more his tongue seemed tied; for in this wretched life there is no wine of enjoyment without dregs of vexation, no rich broth of pleasure without the scum of annoyance; and just at this moment Filadoro's mother suddenly appeared, who was such an ugly ogress that Nature seemed to have formed her as a model of horrors; she had hair like a besom of holly, not fit indeed to cleanse houses of soot and cobwebs, but to sweep upon the hearts of all beholders the clouds of fright and terror; her forehead was a Genoa stone, to sharpen the dagger of fear which she stuck into all breasts; her eyes were comets, that predicted trembling of the legs, icy dread at the heart, and shuddering of the spirit; for she carried terror in her face, affright in her looks, horror in her steps, and dread in her words; her mouth had tusks like a boar's, was wide as an abyss, opening like that of a person who has the apoplexy, and slabbering like a mule's. In short, from head to foot she looked a quintessence of ugliness, an hospital of distempers; insomuch that the prince must for certain have carried some story of Mark or Fiorella[8] sown into his doublet, that he did not faint away at the sight. Then the ogress seized Nardo Aniello by the nape of his neck, saying, "Hollo! what now, you thief, you rogue!"

"Yourself the rogue!" replied the prince: "back with you, old hag!" And he was just going to draw his sword, which was an old Damascus blade, when all at once he stood fixed, like a sheep that has seen the wolf and can neither stir nor utter a sound; so that the ogress led him like an ass by a halter to her house. And when they came there she said to him, "Mind now, and work like a dog, unless you wish to die like a hog; and for your first task, take care in the course of today to have this acre of land dug and sown as level as this room: and recollect, that if I return in the evening and do not find the work finished, I shall eat you up." Then bidding her daughter take care of the house, she went to a meeting of the other ogresses in the wood.

Nardo Aniello, seeing himself dragged into this dilemma, began to bathe his breast with tears, cursing his fate, which had brought him to this pass. But Filadoro, on the other hand, comforted him, bidding him be of good heart, for that she would even risk her life to assist him; and adding, that he ought not to lament his fate, which had led him to that house, where he was loved so dearly by her, and that he showed little return for her love by standing so in despair at what had happened. The prince replied, "I am not grieved at having come down from the horse to the ass, nor at having exchanged the royal palace for this hovel, the splendid banquets for a crust of bread, the troop of servants for field-labour, the sceptre for a spade, nor at seeing myself, who have terrified armies, now frightened by this hideous scarecrow; for I should deem all my disasters good-fortune to be with you, and to gaze upon you with these eyes. But what pierces me to the heart is that I have to dig till my hands are covered with hard skin,—I whose fingers were as delicate and soft as Barbary wool; and, what is still worse, I have to do more than two oxen could get through in a day; and if I do not finish the task this evening, your mother will eat me up: yet withal I should not grieve so much to quit this wretched body as to be parted from so beautiful a creature."

So saying he heaved sighs by bushels and shed tears by casksful. But Filadoro, drying his eyes, said to him, "Fear not, my life, that my mother will touch a hair of your head; trust to Filadoro, and fear not; for you must know that I possess magical powers, and am able to make water set cream, and to darken the sun. Enough and sufficient—be of good heart, for by the evening the piece of land will be dug and sown, without any one's stirring a hand."

When Nardo Aniello heard this, he answered, "If you have magic power, as you say, O beauty of the world, why do we not fly from this country? for you shall live like a queen in my father's house." And Filadoro replied, "A certain conjunction of the stars prevents this; but the trouble will soon pass, and we shall be happy."

With these and a thousand other pleasant discourses the day passed; and when the ogress came back, she called to her daughter from the road, and said, "Filadoro, let down your hair!" for as the house had no staircase, she always ascended by her daughter's tresses. As soon as Filadoro heard her mother's voice, she unbound her hair and let fall her tresses, making a golden ladder to an iron heart: whereupon the old woman mounted up quickly and ran into the garden. But when she found it all dug and sown, she was beside herself with amazement; for it seemed to her impossible that a delicate lad should have accomplished such dog's labour.

But the next morning, hardly had the Sun gone out to warm himself, on account of the cold he had caught in the river of India, when the ogress went down again, bidding Nardo Aniello take care that in the evening she should find ready split six stacks of wood which were in the cellar, with every log cleft into four pieces; or otherwise she would cut him up like bacon, and make a fry of him for supper.

On hearing this decree the poor prince had like to have died of terror; and Filadoro, seeing him half-dead and pale as ashes, said, "Why, what a coward you are to be frightened at such a trifle!" "Do you think it a trifle," replied Nardo Aniello, "to split six stacks of wood, with every log cleft into four pieces, between this time and the evening? Alas! I shall sooner be cleft in halves myself, to fill the mouth of this horrid old woman."

"Fear not," answered Filadoro; "for without your giving yourself any trouble, the wood shall all be split in good time; but meanwhile cheer up if you love me, and do not split my heart with such lamentation."

Now when the Sun had shut up the shop of his rays, in order not to sell light to the Shades, the old woman returned, and bidding Filadoro let down the usual ladder, she ascended; and finding the wood all ready split, she began to suspect that it was her daughter who had given her this checkmate. And the third day, in order to make a third trial, she ordered the prince to clean out for her a cistern which held a thousand casks of water, for she wished to fill it anew; adding, that if the task were not finished by the evening she would make mincemeat of him.

When the old woman went away, Nardo Aniello began again to weep and wail; and Filadoro, seeing that the labours increased, and that the old woman had something of the jackass in her to burden the poor fellow with such tasks and troubles, said to him, "Be quiet, and as soon as the moment is past that interrupts my art, before the Sun says 'I am off,' we will say good-by to this house; sure enough this evening my mother shall find the land cleared, and I will go off with you, alive or dead." The prince, on hearing this news, opened his heart,—all the more easily as he was before ready to burst; and embracing Filadoro he said, "Thou art the pole-star of this storm-tossed bark, my soul! thou art the prop of my hopes."

Now when evening drew nigh, Filadoro having dug a hole in the garden, under which there was a large underground passage, they went out and took the way to Naples. But when they arrived at the grotto of Pozzuolo, Nardo Aniello said to Filadoro, "It will never do, my dear, for me to take you to the palace on foot and drest in this manner; therefore wait at this inn, and I will soon return with horses, carriages, servants and clothes." So Filadoro stayed behind, and the prince went his way to the city.

Meanwhile the ogress returned home, and as Filadoro did not answer to her usual summons, she grew suspicious, ran into the wood, and cutting a great long pole, placed it against the window, and climbed up like a cat. Then she went into the house, and hunted everywhere, inside and out, high and low, but found no one: at last she perceived the hole, and seeing that it led into the open air, in her rage she did not leave a hair upon her head, cursing her daughter and the prince, and praying that at the first kiss Filadoro's lover should receive he might forget her.

But let us leave the old woman to say her wicked paternosters, and return to the prince, who on arriving at the palace, where he was thought to be dead, put the whole house in an uproar, every one running to meet him and crying, "Welcome, welcome! here he is safe and sound! how happy we are to see him back to this country!" and a thousand other words of affection. But as he was going up the stairs, his mother met him half-way, and embraced and kissed him, saying, "My son, my jewel, the apple of my eye, where have you been? how is it you have stayed away so long, to make us all die with anxiety?" The prince knew not what to answer, for he did not wish to tell her his misfortunes; but no sooner had his mother kissed him with her poppy lips, than, owing to the curse of the ogress, all that had passed went from his memory. Then the queen told her son that, to put an end to his going to the chase and wasting his life in the woods, she wished to have him married. "Well and good," replied the prince; "I am ready and prepared to do all that my lady mother desires."—"Spoken like a blessed son!" answered the queen. So it was settled that within four days they should lead home to him the bride, who was a lady of distinction just arrived in that city from the country of Flanders; and thereupon a great feasting and banquets were held.

But meanwhile Filadoro, seeing that her husband stayed away so long, and hearing (I know not how) of the feast, the news of which had spread everywhere far and wide, waited in the evening till the servant-lad of the inn had gone to bed; and then taking his clothes from the head of the bed, she left her own in their place; and disguising herself like a man, she went to the court of the king, where the cooks, being in want of help as they had so much to do, took her as kitchen-boy. And when the appointed morning was come, at the hour when the Sun displays upon the counter of heaven the certificates given him by Nature, sealed with light, and sells secrets for sharpening the sight, the bride arrived with the sound of flutes and trumpets. Then the tables were set out, and they all took their seats; and just as the dishes were showering down, and the carver was cutting up a large English pie, which Filadoro had made with her own hands, lo! out flew such a beautiful dove, that the guests in their astonishment forgetting to eat, fell to admiring the pretty bird, which said to the prince in a piteous voice, "Have you eaten the brains of a cat, O prince, that you have so soon forgotten the love of Filadoro? have all the services you received from her, ungrateful man, gone from your memory? is it thus you repay the benefits she has done you,—she who took you out of the claws of the ogress, and gave you life and her own self too? is this the return you make to the unhappy maiden for all the love she has shown you? tell her to get up and be off! bid her pick this bone until the roast-meat come. Woe to the woman that trusts too much to the words of men, who ever requite kindness with ingratitude, benefits with thanklessness, and pay debts with forgetfulness! Just when the poor girl was imagining that she should live with you and share your fortunes, she is left and forsaken[9]; she was thinking to break a tumbler with you, and now she has broken the pitcher. But go! forget your promises, false man! and may the curses follow you which the unhappy maiden sends you from the bottom of her heart! you shall learn what it is to deceive a young maiden, to make sport of a poor girl, to cheat an innocent damsel, playing her such a fine trick, putting her on the back of the page, whilst she carried you in her heart, and treating her with contempt whilst she served you so faithfully. But if Heaven has not bandaged its eyes, if the gods have not locked up their ears, they will witness the wrong you have done her; and when you least expect it, the lightning and thunder, the fever and the illness will come to you. Enough! eat and drink, take your sports and frolics and triumph with the new bride! for unhappy Filadoro, deceived and forsaken, will leave you the field open to make merry with your new wife." So saying the dove flew away quickly and vanished like the wind.

The prince, hearing the murmuring of the dove, stood for awhile stupified: at length he inquired whence the pie came, and when the carver told him that a scullion-boy who had been taken to assist in the kitchen had made it, he ordered him to be brought before him. Then Filadoro, throwing herself at the feet of Nardo Aniello, and shedding a torrent of tears, said merely, "What have I done to you?" Whereupon the prince, struck by Filadoro's beauty, at once recalled to mind the engagement he had made with her, face to face in the court of Love; and instantly raising her up, he seated her by his side. And when he related to his mother the great obligation he was under to this beautiful maiden, and all that she had done for him, and how it was necessary that the promise he had given should be fulfilled, his mother, who had no other joy in life than her son, said to him, "Do as you please, so that you offend not the honour or the good pleasure of this lady whom I have given you to wife."

"Be not troubled," said the lady, "for, to tell the truth, I am very loth to remain in this country; with your kind permission, I wish to return to my dear Flanders, to find the grandfathers of the glasses which they use here in Naples[10], where, whilst I was thinking to light a lantern and set it before me[11], the lamp of my life has been nearly extinguished."

Thereupon the prince with great joy offered her a vessel and attendants; and ordering Filadoro to be dressed like a princess, when the tables were removed, the musicians came, and they began the ball, which lasted until evening. But as soon as the Earth was covered with mourning for the obsequies of the Sun, the lights were brought; and suddenly a great noise of bells was heard on the stairs; whereat the prince said to his mother, "This must surely be some pretty masquerade, to do honour to the feast; upon my word the Neapolitan cavaliers are vastly polite, and when called upon they spare neither pains nor money[12]."

But whilst they were discoursing thus, there appeared in the middle of the hall an ugly figure, who was not more than three feet high, but as big as a tub; and stepping up to the prince she said, "Know, Nardo Aniello, that your caprices and ill-deeds brought on you all the troubles you have gone through: I am the spirit of that old woman whose pot you broke, so that she died of hunger. I laid a curse upon you, wishing that you might be seized by the claws of an ogress, and my wish was fulfilled: by the power of this beautiful fairy however you escaped from those troubles, but afterwards you received another curse from the ogress, that at the first kiss given you, you should forget Filadoro; your mother kissed you, and Filadoro went out of your mind. But now I lay another curse upon you, that in remembrance of the injury you did me, you may always have before you those beans of mine which you threw on the ground, so that the proverb may come true, 'He who sows beans gets a crop of horns.'" So saying she vanished like quicksilver, and not a trace of smoke was to be seen.

The fairy, seeing the prince grow pale at these words, bade him take courage, saying, "Fear not, my husband, I will save you from the fire." Then she pronounced the words,—"Scatola and matola! thus the charm of all power I disarm:" and instantly the spell was at an end.

So the feast being now ended, they all betook themselves to rest; and the prince and Filadoro lived happy ever after, proving the truth of the proverb, that

 

"He who stumbles and does not fall,

Is help'd on his way like a rolling ball."

 

"Of a truth," said the Prince, "every man ought to act according to his station,—the nobleman as a nobleman, the lacquey as a lacquey, and the constable as a constable; for as the beggar-boy, wishing to act the prince, becomes ridiculous, so the prince acting like a beggar-boy loses his reputation."

The listeners were so absorbed by Ciulla's story, they had not perceived that the Sun, having been too prodigal of his light, had become bankrupt, and placing the golden keys under the door[13] had run away. But Cola Ambruoso and Marchionno now made their appearance, drest in chamois-leather breeches and doublets of scalloped serge, and began the second pastoral dialogue. This was concluded at the same time that the Sun concluded the day. So, having appointed to return the following morning with a new store of stories, they all went to their homes satisfied with words and full of appetite.

 

1.       A circular valley near the Lago d'Agnano, not far from Naples: it forms a royal deer-park.

2.       i.e. 'esteemed so highly.'

3.       Che lo faccia bollere e mmale cocere.

4.       i.e. 'give him plenty of work and little to eat.'

5.       The reader will recall the English saying; in Germany the children have a similar one.

6.       Non monnava nnespole—'did not peel medlars.'

7.       The Vicaria is the highest tribunal in Naples, in which the Vicario presides as viceregal judge.

8.       A charm.

9.       Literally as follows:—"The poor girl was thinking of making the cake in the pan (?) with thee, and now she sees herself play at 'Cut the cake.'"—(See note at page 34.)

10.   Basile considers Flanders as part of Germany: he alludes here (as frequently elsewhere—see p. 83) to the old joke against the Germans of being strong drinkers. 'The grandfathers of the glasses' means that they were so much bigger.

11.   The light hung out at the end of the Molo at Naples was in Basile's thought.

12.   Literally—'Spare neither cooked nor raw.'

13.   Alluding to the practice of persons running away without paying their rent, and leaving the key under the door. It is done in Ireland.