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GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

FREDERIC UVEDALE. A Romance. 1901.
STUDIES IN THE LIVES OF THE

SAINTS. 1902.
ITALY AND THE ITALIANS. Second

Edition. 1902.
THE CITIES OF UMBRIA. Third Edition.

1905.
THE CITIES OF SPAIN. Third Edition.

1906.
SIGISMONDO MALATESTA. 1906.
FLORENCE AND NORTHERN TUSCANY.

Second Edition. 1907.
COUNTRY WALKS ABOUT FLORENCE.

1908.
IN UNKNOWN TUSCANY. 1909.

EDITED BY EDWARD HUTTON

MEMOIRS OF THE DUKES OF URBINO.

By James Dennistoun of Dennistoun.

Illustrating the Arms, Arts, and Literature of

Italy, from 1440 to 1630. New Edition,

with upwards of 100 Illustrations. 3 vols.

Demy 8vo. 1908.
CROWE AND CAVALCASELLE'S A NEW

HISTORY OF PAINTING IN ITALY.

3 vols. 8vo. 1908-9.

: : GIOVANNI

BOCCACCIO

A BIOGRAPHICAL STUDY
BY EDWARD HUTTON « ffi

WITH PHOTOGRAVURE FRONTISPIECE
& NUMEROUS OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS

But if the love that hath and still doth burn me

No love at length return me,

Out of my thoughts I'll set her :

Heart let her go, O heart I pray thee let her !

Say shall she go ?

O no, no, no, no, no !
Fix'd in the heart, how can the heart forget her.

LONDON : JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD^

NEW YORK : JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMx"

tf£77

u o

1 ?

Plymouth: wm. brendon and son. ltd., printers

TO MY FRIEND
J. L. GARVIN

THIS STUDY OF AN HEROIC LIFE

PREFACE

IT might seem proper, in England at least, to preface
any book dealing frankly with the author of the
Decameron with an apology for, and perhaps a
defence of, its subject. I shall do nothing of the
kind. Indeed, this is not the place, if any be, to under-
take the defence of Boccaccio. His life, the facts of his
life, his love, his humanity, and his labours, plentifully set
forth in this work, will defend him with the simple of
heart more eloquently than I could hope to do. And it
might seem that one who exhausted his little patrimony
in the acquirement of learning, who gave Homer back to
us, who founded or certainly fixed Italian prose, who was
the friend of Petrarch, the passionate defender of Dante,
and who died in the pursuit of knowledge, should need no
defence anywhere from any one.

This book, on which I have been at work from time to
time for some years, is the result of an endeavour to set
out quite frankly and in order all that may be known of
Boccaccio, his life, his love for Fiammetta, and his work, so
splendid in the Tuscan, the fruit of such an enthusiastic and
heroic labour in the Latin. It is an attempt at a bio-
graphical and critical study of one of the greatest creative
writers of Europe, of one of the earliest humanists, in
which, for the first time, in England certainly, all the facts
are placed before the reader, and the sources and authority

viii PREFACE

for these facts quoted, cited, and named. Yet while I
have tried to be as scrupulous as possible in this respect,
I hope the book will be read too by those for whom notes
have no attraction ; for it was written first for delight.

Among other things I have dealt with, the reader will
find a study of Boccaccio's attitude to Woman, and in some
sort this may be said to be the true subject of the book.

I have dealt too with Boccaccio's relation to both
Dante and Petrarch ; and it was my intention to have
written a chapter on Boccaccio and Chaucer, but interest-
ing as that subject is — and one of the greatest desiderata
in the study of Chaucer — a chapter in a long book
seemed too small for it; and again, it belongs rather
to a book on Chaucer than to one about Boccaccio. I
have left it, then, for another opportunity, or for another
and a better student than myself.

In regard to the illustrations, I may say that I hoped to
make them, as it were, a chapter on Boccaccio and his
work in relation to the fine arts ; but I found at last that
it would be impossible to carry this out. To begin with,
I was unable to get permission to reproduce M. Spiridon's
and Mr. V. Watney's panels by Alunno di Domenico 1
illustrating the story of Nastagio degli Onesti {Decameron,
V, 8), which are perhaps the most beautiful paintings ever
made in illustration of one of Boccaccio's tales. In the second
place, the subject was too big to treat of in the space at
my command. I wish now that I had dealt only with
the Decameron ; but in spite of a certain want of com-
pleteness, the examples I have been able to reproduce

1 Mr. Berenson {Burlington Magazine, Vol. I (1903), p. 1 et seq.) gives
these panels to Alunno di Domenico ; Mr. Home to Botticelli. See Crowe
and Cavalcaselle (ed. E. Hutton), A New History of Painting in Italy
(Dent, 1909), Vol. II, pp. 409 and 471, and works there cited.

PREFACE ix

will give the reader a very good idea of the large and
exquisite mass of material of the fourteenth, fifteenth,
and sixteenth centuries in Italy, France, Germany, and
even in England which in its relation to Boccaccio has
still to be dealt with. Nothing on this subject has yet
been published, though something of the sort with regard
to Petrarch has been attempted. Beyond the early part
of the seventeenth century I have not sought to go, but
an examination of the work of the eighteenth century in
France at any rate should repay the student in this
untouched field.

I have to thank a host of people who in many and
various ways have given me their assistance in the
writing of this book. It has been a labour of love for
them as for me, and let us hope that Boccaccio " in the
third heaven with his own Fiammetta" is as grateful for
their kindness as I am.

Especially I wish to thank Mrs. Ross, of Poggio
Gherardo, Mr. A. E. Benn, of Villa Ciliegio, Professor
Guido Biagi, of Florence, Mr. Edmund Gardner, Pro-
fessor Henri Hauvette, of Paris, Mr. William Heywood,
Dr. Paget Toynbee, and Mr. Charles Whibley. And
I must also express my gratitude to Messrs. J. and
J. Leighton, of Brewer Street, London, W., for so kindly
placing at my disposal many of the blocks which will be
found in these pages.

EDWARD HUTTON.

Casa di Boccaccio,
corbignano,
September, 1909.

INTRODUCTION

OF the three great writers who open the litera-
ture of the modern world, Dante, Petrarch, and
Boccaccio, it is perhaps the last who has the
greatest significance in the history of culture,
of civilisation. Without the profound mysticism of Dante
or the extraordinary sweetness and perfection of Petrarch,
he was more complete than either of them, full at once of
laughter and humility and love — that humanism which in
him alone in his day was really a part of life. For him
the centre of things was not to be found in the next world
but in this. To the Divine Comedy he seems to oppose
the Human Comedy, the Decameron, in which he not only
created for Italy a classic prose, but gave the world an
ever-living book full of men and women and the courtesy,
generosity, and humanity of life, which was to be one of
the greater literary influences in Europe during some three
hundred years.

In England certainly, and indeed almost everywhere
to-day, the name of Boccaccio stands for this book,
the Decameron. Yet the volumes he wrote during a
laborious and really uneventful life are very numerous
both in verse and prose, in Latin and in Tuscan. He
began to write before he was twenty years old, and he
scarcely stayed his hand till he lay dying alone in Certaldo
in 1375. That the Decameron, his greatest and most
various work, should be that by which he is most widely
known, is not remarkable ; it is strange, however, that of
all his works it should be the only one that is quite imper-

xii INTRODUCTION

sonal. His earlier romances are without exception romans
a clef ; under a transparent veil of allegory he tells us
eagerly, even passionately, of himself, his love, his suffer-
ings, his agony and delight. He too has confessed himself
with the same intensity as St. Augustine ; but we refuse
to hear him. Over and over again he tells his story. One
may follow it exactly from point to point, divide it into
periods, name the beginning and the ending of his love,
his enthusiasms, his youth and ripeness ; yet we mark
him not, but perhaps wisely reach down the Decameron
from our shelves and silence him with his own words ; for
in the Decameron he is almost as completely hidden from
us as is Shakespeare in his plays. And yet for all this,
there is a profound unity in his work, which, if we can but
see it, makes of all his books just the acts of a drama, the
drama of his life. The Decameron is already to be found
in essence in the Filocolo, as is the bitter melancholy of the
Corbaccio, its mad folly too, and the sweetness of the songs.
For the truth about Boccaccio can be summed up in one
statement almost, he was a poet before all things, not only
because he could express himself in perfect verse, nor
even because of the grace and beauty of all his writing,
his gifts of sentiment and sensibility, but because he is an
interpreter of nature and of man, who knows that poetry
is holy and sacred, and that one must accept it thankfully
in fear and humility.

He was the most human writer the Renaissance pro-
duced in Italy ; and since his life was so full and eager in
its desire for knowledge, it is strange that nothing of any
serious account has been written concerning him in
English,1 and this is even unaccountable when we remem-
ber how eagerly many among our greater poets have been
his debtors. Though for no other cause yet for this it will

1 The best study is that of J. A. Symonds's Boccaccio as Man and Author
(Nimmo, 1896). It is unfortunately among the less serious works of that
scholar.

INTRODUCTION xiii

be well to try here with what success the allegory of his
life may be solved, the facts set in order, and the signifi-
cance of his work expressed.

But no study of Boccaccio can be successful, or in any
sense complete, without a glance at the period which pro-
duced him, and especially at those eight-and-forty years so
confused in Italy, and not in Italy alone, which lie be-
tween the death of Frederic II and the birth of Dante in
1265 and the death of Henry VII and the birth of Boc-
caccio in 13 13. This period, not less significant in the
general history of Italy than in the history of her litera-
ture, begins with the fall of the Empire, its failure, that
is, as the sum or at least the head, of Christendom ; it
includes the fall of the medieval Papacy in 1303 and
the abandonment of the Eternal City, the exile of the
Popes. These were years of immense disaster in which
we see the passing of a whole civilisation and the birth
of the modern world.

The Papacy had destroyed the Empire but had failed
to establish itself in its place. It threatened a new
tyranny, but already weapons were being forged to combat
it, and little by little the Papal view of the world, of
government, was to be met by an appeal to history, to
the criticism of history, and to those political principles
which were to be the result of that criticism. In this work
both Petrarch and Boccaccio bear a noble part.

If we turn to the history of Florence we shall find that
the last thirty-five years of the thirteenth century had
been, perhaps, the happiest in her history. From the
triumph of the Guelfs at Benevento to the quarrel of
Neri and Bianchi she was at least at peace with herself,
while in her relations with her sister cities she became the
greatest power in Tuscany. Art and Poetry flourished
within her walls. Dante, Cavalcanti, Giotto, the Pisani,
and Arnolfo di Cambio were busy with their work, and the
great churches we know so well, the beautiful palaces of

xiv INTRODUCTION

the officers of the Republic were then built with pride and
enthusiasm. In 1289, the last sparks, as it was thought,
of Tuscan Ghibellinism had been stamped out at Cam-
paldino. There followed the old quarrel and Dante's exile.

The Ghibellines were no more, but the Grandi, those
Guelf magnates who had done so well at Campaldino,
hating the burgher rule as bitterly as the old nobility had
done, began to exert themselves. In the very year of the
great battle we find that the peasants of the contrada were
enfranchised to combat them. In 1293 the famous Ordin-
ances of Justice which excluded them from office were
passed, and the Gonfalonier e was appointed to enforce
these laws against them. A temporary alliance of burghers
and Grandi in 1295 drove Giano della Bella, the hero of
these reforms, into exile, and the government remained in
the hands of the Grandi. That year saw Dante's entrance
into public life.

The quarrel thus begun came to crisis in 1300, the
famous year of the jubilee, when Boniface VIII seemed to
hold the whole world in his hands. The dissensions in
Florence had not been lost upon the Pope, who, appar-
ently hoping to repress the Republic altogether and win
the obedience of the city, intrigued with the Neri, those
among the magnates who, unlike their fellows of the
Bianchi faction, among whom Dante is the most con-
spicuous figure, refused to admit the Ordinances of Justice,
even in their revised form, and wished for the tyrannical
rule of the old Parte Guelf a. Already, as was well known,
the Pope was pressing Albert of Austria for a renuncia-
tion of the Imperial claim over Tuscany in favour
of the Holy See ; and Florence, finally distracted now
by the quarrels of Neri and Bianchi, seemed to be
in imminent danger of losing her liberty. It became
necessary to redress the balance of power, destroyed at
Benevento, by an attempt to recreate the Empire.
This was the real work of the Bianchi — their solution

INTRODUCTION xv

of the greatest question of their time. The actual
solution was to come, however, from their opponents :
not from the leaders of the Neri it is true, but from the
people themselves. These leaders were but tyrants in
disguise : they served any cause to establish their own
lordship. Corso Donati, for instance, the head and front
of the Neri, was of an old Ghibelline stock, yet he
trafficked with the Pope, not for the Church, we may be
sure, nor to give Florence to the Holy See, but that he
might himself rule the city. Nor did the Pope disdain to
use him. Alarmed even in Rome by the republican
sentiments of the populace, who wished to rule them-
selves even as the Florentines, he desired above all things
to bring Florence into his power. On May 15, 1300,
the Pope despatched a letter to the Bishop of Florence,
in which he asked : " Is not the Pontiff supreme lord over
all, and particularly over Florence, which for especial
reasons is bound to be subject to him ? Do not emperors
and kings of the Romans yield submission to us, yet are
they not superior to Florence ? During the vacancy of
the Imperial throne, did not the Holy See appoint King
Charles of Anjou Vicar-General of Tuscany ? " Thus as
Villari says, " in a rising crescendo" he threatened the
Florentines that he would " not only launch his interdict
and excommunication against them, but inflict the
utmost injury on their citizens and merchants, cause
their property to be pillaged and confiscated in all parts
of the world, and release all their debtors from the duty ol
payment." The Neri, fearing the people might, with that
impudent claim before them, side with the Bianchi, in-
duced the Pope to send the Cardinal of Acquasparta to
arrange a pacification. But though the city gave him
many promises, she would not invest him with the Balia.
Meanwhile the Pope, set on the subjection of Florence,
without counting the cost, urged Charles of Valois, the
brother of Philip IV of France, to march into Tuscany.

xvi INTRODUCTION

Nor was Charles of Anjou, King of Naples, less eager to
have his aid against the Sicilians. Joined by the exiles in
November, 1301, he entered Florence with some 1200
horse, part French, part Italian. His mission was to
crush the Bianchi and the people, and to uplift the Neri.
He came at the request of the Pope, and, so far as he
himself was interested, for booty; yet he swore in S. Maria
Novella to keep the peace. On that same day, No-
vember 5, Corso Donati entered the city with an armed
force. The French joined in the riot, the Priors were
driven from their new palace, and the city sacked by the
soldiers with the help of the Neri. The Pope had suc-
ceeded in substituting black for white, that was all. A
new " peace-maker " failed altogether. The proscription,
already begun, continued, and before January 27, 1302,
Dante went into exile.

But if the Pope had failed to do more than establish
the Neri in the government of Florence, Corso Donati
had failed also ; he had not won the lordship of the city.
He tried again, splitting the Neri into two factions, and
Florence was not to possess herself in peace till his death
in a last attempt in 1308. It was during these years so full
of disaster that Petrarch was born at Arezzo on July 20,
1304.

The medieval idea of the Papacy has been expressed
once and for all by S. Thomas Aquinas. In his mind so
profoundly theological, abhorring variety, the world was
to be governed, if at all, by a constitutional monarchy,
strong enough to enforce order, but not to establish a
tyranny. The first object of every Christian society, the
salvation of the soul, was to be achieved by the priest
under the absolute rule of the Pope. Under the old
dispensation, as he admitted, the priest had been subject
to the king, but under the new dispensation the king
was subject to the priest in matters touching the law
of Christ. Thus if the king were careless of religion

INTRODUCTION xvii

or schismatic or heretical, the Church might deprive him
of his power and by excommunication release his subjects
from their allegiance. This supreme authority is vested
in the Pope, who is infallible, and from whom there can be
no appeal at any time as to what is to be believed or
what condemned.

Before these claims the Empire had fallen in 1266 ; but
a reaction, the result of the success of Boniface, soon set in,
and we find the most perfect expression of the revived and
reformed claims of the Empire in the De Monarchia, which
Dante Alighieri wrote in exile. Dante's Empire was by
no means merely a revival of what the Imperial idea had
become in its conflicts with the Holy See. It was never-
theless as hopeless an anachronism as the dream of S.
Thomas Aquinas, and even less clairvoyant of the future,
for it disregarded altogether the spirit to which the future
belonged, the spirit of nationalism. With a mind as theo-
logical as S. Thomas's, Dante hated variety not less than
he, and rather than tolerate the confusion of the innumer-
able cities and communes into which Italy was divided,
where there was life, he would have thrust the world back
into Feudalism and the Middle Age from which it was
already emerging, he would have established over all Italy
a German king. He was dreaming of the Roman Empire.
The end for which we must strive, he would seem to say
in the De Mo?tarchia, that epitaph of the Empire, is unity ;
let that he granted. And since that is the end of all
society, how shall we obtain it but by obedience to one
head — the Emperor. And this Empire — so easy is it to
mistake the past for the future — belongs of right to
the Roman people who won it long ago. And what
they won Christ sanctioned, for He was born within
its confines. And yet again He recognised it, for He
received at the hands of a Roman judge the sentence under
which He bore our sorrows. Nor does the Empire derive
from the Pope or through the Pope, but from God im-

xviii INTRODUCTION

mediately ; for the foundation of the Church is Christ, but
the Empire was before the Church. Yet let Caesar be
reverent to Peter, as the first-born should be reverent to
his father.

So much for the philosophical defence of the reaction.
It is rarely, after all, that a rigidly logical conception of
society, of the State, has any existence in reality. The
future, as we know, lay with quite another theory. Yet
which of us to-day but in his secret heart dreams ever
more hopefully of a new unity, that is indeed no stranger
to the old, but in fact the resurrection of the Empire, of
Christendom, in which alone we can be one? After all, is
it not now as then, the noblest hope that can inspire our
lives ?

Already, before the death of Boniface VIII, the last
Pope to die in Rome for nearly a hundred years, Philip IV
of France had asserted the rights of the State against the
claims of the Papal monarchy. The future was his, and his
success was to be so great that for more than seventy
years the Papacy was altogether under the influence
of France, the first of the great nations of the Continent
to become self-conscious. Thus when Boniface died
broken-hearted in 1303, it was the medieval Papacy which
lay in state beside him. Two years later, after the pathetic
and ineffectual nine months' reign of Benedict XI,
Clement V, Bertrand de Goth, an Aquitanian, was elected,
and, like his predecessor, fearful before the turbulent
Romans and the confusion of Italy, in 1305 fled away
to Avignon, which King Charles II of Naples held as
Count of Anjou on the borders of the French kingdom.
The Papacy had abandoned the Eternal City and
had come under the influence of the French king. Yet
in spite of every disaster the Pope and the Emperor
remained the opposed centres of European affairs. No
one as yet realised the possibility of doing without them,
but each power sought rather to use them for its own end.

INTRODUCTION xix

In this political struggle France held the best position ;
the Pope was a Frenchman and so her son ; there remained
as spoil, the Empire.

On May i, 1308, Albert of Hapsburg had been murdered
by his nephew; the election of a new King of the Romans,
the future Emperor, fell pat to Philip's ambitions. He
immediately supported the candidature of his brother,
Charles of Valois ; but in this he reckoned without the
Pope, who with the Angevins in Naples and himself in
Avignon had no wish to see the Empire also in the hands of
France. His position forbade him openly to oppose Philip,
but secretly he gave his support to Henry of Luxemburg,
who was elected as Henry VII on 27 November, 1308.

A German educated in France, the lord of a petty
state, Henry, in spite of the nobility of his nature, of
which we hear so much and see so little, had but feeble
Latin sympathies and no real power of his own. He
dreamed of the universal empire like a true German,
believing that the feudal union of Germany and Italy
which had always been impossible was the future of the
world. With this mirage before his eyes he raised the
imperial flag and set out southward ; and for a moment it
seemed as though the stars had stopped in their courses.

For he was by no means alone in his dream. Every
disappointed ambition in Italy, noble and ignoble, greeted
him with a feverish enthusiasm. The Bianchi and the
exiled Ghibellines joined hands, enormous hopes were
conceived, and in his triumph private vengeance and
public hate thought to find achievement. But when
Henry entered Italy in September, 13 10, he soon found
he had reckoned without the Florentines, who had called
together the Guelf cities, and, leaguing themselves with
King Robert the Wise of Naples, formed what was, in fact,
an Italian confederation to defend freedom and their
common independence. It is true that in these acts
Florence thought only of present safety : she was both

xx INTRODUCTION

right and fortunate; but in allying herself with King
Robert and espousing the cause of France and the Pope
she contributed to that triumph which was to prove
for centuries the most dangerous of all to Italian liberty
and independence.

Bitter with loneliness, imprisoned in the adamant of his
personality, Dante, amid the rocks of the Casentino,
hurled his curses on Florence, and not on Florence alone.
Is there, I wonder, anything but hatred and abuse of the
cities of his Fatherland in all his work ? He has judged
his country as God Himself will not judge it, and he
kept his anger for ever. In the astonishing and dis-
graceful letters written in the spring of 131 1 he urged
Henry to attack his native city. Hailing this German
king — and the Florentines would call him nothing else
— as the " Lamb of God Who taketh away the sins
of the world," he asks him : " What may it profit
thee to subdue Cremona ? Brescia, Bergamo, and other
cities will continue to revolt until thou hast extirpated
the root of the evil. Art thou ignorant perhaps where
the rank fox lurketh in hiding? The beast drinketh
from the Arno, polluting the waters with its jaws. Knowest
thou not that Florence is its name? . . ." Henry, how-
ever, took no heed as yet of that terrible voice crying
in the wilderness. He entered Rome before attacking
Florence, in May, 13 12. He easily won the Capitol, but
was fiercely opposed by King Robert when he tried to
reach S. Peter's to win the imperial crown, and from Castel
S. Angelo he was repulsed with heavy loss. The Roman
people, however, presently took his part, and by threats
and violence compelled the bishops to crown him in the
Lateran on June 29.

If Rome greeted him, however, she was alone. Florence
remained the head and front of the unbroken League.
Those scelestissimi Florentine as Dante calls them, still
refused to hail him as anything but Enemy, German King

INTRODUCTION xxi

and Tyrant. The fine political sagacity of Florence, which
makes hers the only history worth reading among the
cities of Central Italy, was never shown to better advan-
tage or more fully justified in the event than when she
dared to send her greatest son into exile and to pro-
claim his Emperor " German king " and " enemy." " Re-
member/' she wrote to the people of Brescia, "that the
safety of all Italy and all the Guelfs depends on your
resistance. The Latins must always hold the Germans in
enmity, seeing that they are opposed in act and deed, in
manners and soul ; not only is it impossible to serve, but
even to hold any intercourse with that race."

At last the Emperor decided to follow Dante's advice
and "slay the new Goliath." This was easier to talk of in the
Casentino than to do. From mid-September to the end of
October the Imperial army lay about the City of the Lily,
never daring to attack. Then the Emperor raised the
siege and set out for Poggibonsi, his health ruined by
anxiety and hardship, and his army, as was always the case
both before and since, broken and spoiled by the Italian
summer. He spent the winter and spring between
Poggibonsi and Pisa, then with some idea of retrieving all
by invading Naples, he set off southward in August to
meet his death on S. Bartholomew's Day, poisoned, as
some say, at Buonconvento.

And Florence announced to her allies : " Jesus Christ
hath procured the death of that most haughty tyrant
Henry, late Count of Luxemburg, whom the rebellious
persecutors of the Church and the treacherous foes
of ourselves and you call King of the Romans and
Emperor."

In the very year of Henry's death, as we suppose,
Boccaccio was born in Paris. The Middle Age had come
to an end. The morning of the Renaissance had already
broken on the world.

CONTENTS

PAGE

Preface . . . . vii

Introduction . . . . . . xi

CHAPTER

I. Boccaccio's Parentage, Birth, and Childhood . 3

II. His Arrival in Naples— His Years with the
Merchant— His Abandonment of Trade and
Entry on the Study of Canon Law . . 15

III. His Meeting with Fiammetta and the Periods

of their Love Story . . . , 27

1 IV. The Years of Courtship — The Reward — The

Betrayal— The Return to Florence . . 41

V. Boccaccio's Early Works— The Filocolo— The
^ Filostr a to— The Teseide— The Ameto— The

F/ammetta— The Ninfale Fiesolano . . 61

VI. In Florence— His Father's Second Marriage—

The Duke of Athens . . 96

VII. In Naples— The Accession of Giovanna— The
Murder of Andrew of Hungary— The Ven-
geance .....

VIII. In Romagna— The Plague— The Death of Fiam
metta .....

IX. The Rime— The Sonnets to Fiammetta

X. Boccaccio as Ambassador— The Meeting with
Petrarch . . . .

XI. Two Embassies ....

108

119
130

145
162

XII. Boccaccio's Attitude to Woman— The Corbaccio 170

xxiii

XXIV

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

XIII. Leon Pilatus and the Translation of Homer

* 4

XIV.

— The Conversion of Boccaccio

i3(

Two Embassies to the Pope — Visits to Venice
and Naples— Boccaccio's Love of Children 207

XV. Petrarch and Boccaccio— The Latin Works . 223
XVI. Dante and Boccaccio— The Vita— and the

COMENTO . . ... 249

XVII. Illness and Death . ... 279

XVIII. The Decameron . . ... 291

APPENDICES

I. The Dates of Boccaccio's Arrival in Naples
and of his Meeting with Fiammetta .

1 1. Document of the Sale of " Corbignano" (called
now "Casa di Boccaccio") by Boccaccino in
1336 .....

III. From "La Villeggiatura di Maiano,'' a MS

BY RUBERTO GHERARDI ; A COPY OF WHICH

is in Possession of Mrs. Ross, of Poggio
Gherardo, near Settignano, Florence

IV. The Acrostic of the Amorosa Visione dedi

cating the Poem to Fiammetta .

* V. The Will of Giovanni Boccaccio .

VI. English Works on Boccaccio

VII. Boccaccio and Chaucer and Shakespeare

^VIII. Synopsis of the Decameron, together with
some Works to be consulted

IX. An Index to the Decameron

Index .....

ILLUSTRATIONS

Traditional Portraits of Boccaccio and Fiammetta (Maria

D'AQUINO) . . . . . Frontispiece

From the frescoes in the Spanish Chapel at S. Maria Novella, Florence. Photo-
gravure.

To face page

The Burning of the Master of the Temple . . . 6

From a miniature in the French version of the Dc Casibus Virorum, made in
1409 by Laurent le Premierfait. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Mus. Show-
case V, MS. 126.)

Casa di Boccaccio, Corbignano, near Florence . 12

King Robert of Naples crowned by S. Louis of Toulouse . 18

From the fresco by Simone Martini in S. Lorenzo, Naples.

Pope Joan . . . . ... 24

A woodcut from the De Claris Mulicrilms. (Berne, 1539.) (By the courtesy of
Messrs. J. and J. Leighton.)

LUCRECE . . . . ... 30

A woodcut from De Claris Mulicribus. (Berne, 1530.) (By the courtesy of
Messrs. J. and J. Leighton.)

Boccaccio and Mainardi Cavalcanti . . 36

By the Dutch engraver called "The Master of the Subjects in the Boccaccio."
De Casibus Virornm. (Strasburg, 1476.)

Sapor mounting over the prostrate Valerian . . . 42

By the Dutch engraver called "The Master of the Subjects in the Boccaccio."
De Casibus Viroruvi. (Strasburg, 1476.)

Manlius thrown into the Tiber . . . . 48

By the Dutch engraver called "The Master of the Subjects in the Boccaccio."
De Casibus Virorum. (Strasburg, 1476.)

Allegory of Wealth and Poverty . . 54

From a miniature in the French version of the De Casibus Virorum, made in
1409 by Laurent le Premierfait. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Mus. Roths-
child Bequest. MS. XII.)

The Murder of the Emperor and Empress . . . 62

From a miniature in the French version of the De Casibus Virorum, made in
1409 by Laurent le Premierfait. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Mus. Show-
case V, MS. 126.)

A Woodcut from Dbs Nobles Malhbvrbux {De Casibus
Virorum). Paris, 15 15 . . . 68

This cut originally appears in the Troy Book. (T. Bonhomme, Paris, 1484.)
Unique copy at Dresden. (By the courtesy of Messrs. J. and J. Leighton.)

XXV

xxvi ILLUSTRATIONS

To face page

Marcus Manlius hurled from the Tarpeian Rock . . 74

An English woodcut from Lydgate's Fallcs of Princes. (Pynson, London,
1527.) It is a copy in reverse from the French translation of the De Casibus.
(Du Pre, Paris, 1483.) (By the courtesy of Messrs. J. and J. Leighton.)

The Title of the Nobles Malheurevx{De Casibus). Paris, 1538 80

(By the courtesy of Messrs. J. and J. Leighton.)

Frontispiece of the Decameron. Venice. 1492 . 86

Chapter Heading from the Decameron. Venice, 1492 . . 92

The Theft of Calandrino:s Pig {Dec, viii, 6) 98

Ghino and the Abbot {Dec, x, 2) . . . . 98

Woodcuts from the Decameron. (Venice, 1492.)

The Duke of Athens . . . ... 104

The Execution of Filippa la Catanese . . . 104

From miniatures in the French version of the Dc Casibus Virorum, made in
1409 by Laurent le Premierfait. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Mus. Roths-
child Bequest. MS. XII.)

ClMON AND IPHIGENIA {DEC, V, i) . . . . HO

From a miniature in the French version of the Decameron, made in 1414 by
Laurent le Premierfait. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Mus. Rothschild
Bequest. MS. XIII.)

GULFARDO AND GUASPARRUOLO {Dec., VIII, i) . . . 1 16

From a miniature in the French version of the Decameron, made in 1414 by

Laurent le Premierfait. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Museum. Rothschild
Bequest, MS. XIV.)

Madonna Francesca and her Lovers {Dec, ix, i) . . 124

From a miniature in the French version of the Decameron, made in 1414 by
Laurent le Premierfait. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Mus. Rothschild
Bequest. MS. XIV.)

The Knight who thought himself ill-rewarded {Dec, x, i) 132

From a miniature in the French version of the Decameron, made in 1414 by
Laurent le Premierfait. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Mus. Rothschild
Bequest. MS. XIV.)

The Story of Griselda {Dec, x, 10) . . . . 138

From the picture by Pesellino in the Morelli Gallery at Bergamo.

The Story of Griselda {Dec, x, 10) . . 146

i. The Marquis of Saluzzo, while out hunting, meets with Griselda, a peasant
girl, and falls in love; he clothes her in fine things. From the picture in
the National Gallery by (?) Bernardino Fungai.

The Story of Griselda {Dec, x, 10) . . 152

ii. Her two children are taken from her, she is divorced, stripped, and sent back
to her father's house. From the picture in the National Gallery by
(?) Bernardino Fungai.

The Story of Griselda {Dec, x, 10) . . . 158

III. A banquet is prepared for the new bride ; Griselda is sent for to serve, but is
reinstated in her husband's affections and finds her children. From the
picture in the National Gallery by (?) Bernardino Fungai.

The Palace of the Popes at Avignon . . . . 164

ILLUSTRATIONS xxvii

To face page
Masetto and the Nuns {Dec, hi, i) . . . 174

In 153S this woodcut appears in Tansillo's Stanze. (By the courtesy of Messrs.
J. and J. Leighton.)

M.\SE!TO AND THE NUNS {Dec, III, i) ... 174

A woodcut from Le Cento Novelle in ottava rima. (Venice, 1554.) (By the
courtesy of Messrs. J. and J. Leighton,)

Monna Tessa Exorcising the Devil. {Dec, vii, i) . . 184

A woodcut from the Decameron. (Venice, 1525.)

Monna Tessa Exorcising the Devil. {Dec, vii, i) . . 184

Appeared in Sansovino's Le Cento Novelle (Venice, 1571.) (By the courtesy of
Messrs. J. and J. Leighton.)

A Woodcut from the Decameron. (Strasburg, 1535) . • 194

(By the courtesy of Messrs. J. and J. Leighton.)

Title of the Spanish Translation of the Decameron (Val-
ladolid, 1539) . . . ... 204

(By the courtesy of Messrs. J. and J. Leighton.)

A Woodcut from the Decameron (Venice, 1602.) Title to Day V 214

(By the courtesy of Messrs. J. and J. Leighton.)

Petrarch and Boccaccio Discussing . ... 224

From a miniature in the French version of the De Casibus Virorum, made in
1409 by Laurent le Premierfait. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Mus. Show-
case V, MS. 126.)

Pompeia, Paulina, and Seneca . . ... 230

A woodcut from the De Cla?-is Mulierilus (Ulm, 1473), cap. 92. (By the courtesy
of Messrs. J and J. Leighton.)

Epitharis . . . . ... 234

A woodcut from the De Claris Mulieribus (Ulm, 1493), cap. 91. (By the
courtesy of Messrs. J. and J. Leighton.)

Paulina, Mundus, and the God Anubis . ... 238

A woodcut from the De Claris Mulieribus (Ulm, 1473), cap. 89. (By the courtesy
of Messrs. J. and J. Leighton.)

The Torture of Regulus . . ... 244

A woodcut from Lydgate's Falle of Princes of John Bochas. (London, 1494.)

Boccaccio Discussing . . . ... 250

From a miniature in the French version of the De Casibus Virorum, made in
1409 by Laurent le Premierfait. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Mus. Rothschild
Bequest. MS. XII.)

Giovanni Boccaccio . . . . 265

From the fresco in S. Apollonia, Florence. By Andrea dal Castagno (1396 (?)-
1457)-

Certaldo . . . . ... 280

Boccaccio's House in Certaldo . . ... 284

Room in Boccaccio's House at Certaldo . . . 288

The Ladies and Youths of the Decameron leaving Florence 292

From a miniature in the French version of the Decameron, made in 1414 by
Laurent le Premierfait. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Mus. Rothschild
Bequest. MS. XIV.)

xxviii ILLUSTRATIONS

To face page

Poggio Gheraedo, near Settignano, Florence . . .v 298

(The scene of the first two days of the Dcca?uerott.)

Villa Palmieri, near Florence . . ... 302

(The scene of the third and following days of the Decameron.)

La Valle delle Donne . . ... 306

From a print of the XVIII century in Baldelli's Vita diGio. Boccaccio.

Title Page of Volume II of the First English Edition of the
Decameron (Isaac Jaggard, 1620.) . ... 312

)t;

GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

CHAPTER I
i3I3~I323

BOCCACCIO'S PARENTAGE, BIRTH, AND CHILDHOOD

<rT^

j^— """^HE facts concerning the life and work of
Giovanni Boccaccio, though they have been
traversed over and over again by modern
students,1 are still for the most part insecure
and doubtful ; while certain questions, of chronology
especially, seem to be almost insoluble. To begin with,
we are uncertain of the place of his birth and of the
identity of his mother, of whom in his own person he
never speaks. And though it is true that he calls himself
'of Certaldo,"2 a small town at that time in the Florentine
contado where he had some property, and where indeed he
came at last to die, we have reason to believe that it was
not his birthplace. The opinion now most generally pro-
fessed by Italian scholars is that he was born in Paris of a
French mother ; and, while we cannot assert this as a fact,
very strong evidence, both from within and from without

1 For a full bibliography see Guido Traversari, Bibliografia Boccac-
cesca (Citta di Castello, 1907), Vol. I (Scritti intorno al Boccaccio e alia
fortuna delle sue opere).

* He commonly signs himself "Joannes Boccaccius" and "Giovanni da
Certaldo." In his Will he describes himself as "Joannes olim Boccacii de
Certaldo," and in the epitaph he wrote for his tomb we read " Patria Certal-
dum."

4 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [131I

his work, can be brought to support it It will be best,
perhaps, to examine this evidence, whose corner-stone is
his assertion to Petrarch that he was born in 1313,1 as
briefly as possible.

The family of Boccaccio2 was originally from Certaldo
in Valdelsa,3 his father being the Florentine banker and
money-changer Boccaccio di Chellino da Certaldo, com-
monly called Boccaccino.4 We know very little about
him, but we are always told that he was of very humble
condition. That he was of humble birth seems certain,
but his career, what we know of his career, would suggest
that he was in a position of considerable importance. We
know that in 13 18 he was in business in Florence, the
name of his firm being Simon Jannis Orlandini, Cante et
Jacobus fratres et filii q. Ammannati et Boccaccinus Chelini
de Certaldo. In the first half of 1324 he was among the
aggiunti deputati of the Arte del Cambio for the election
of the Consiglieri della Mercanzia ;5 in 1326 he was him-
self one of the five Consiglieri ; in the latter part of 1327

1 See Petrarca, Senili, VIII, i., Lett, del 20 luglio, 1366 (in traduz.
Fracassetti, p. 445) : " Conciossiache tu devi sapere, e il sappian pure quanti
non hanno a schifo quest' umile origine, che nell' anno 1304 di quest' ultima
eta, cui da nome e principio Gesii Cristo fonte ed autore di ogni mia speranza,
sullo spuntare dell' alba, il lunedl 20 luglio io nacqui al mondo nella citta di
Arezzo, e nella strada dell' Orto. ... Ed oggi pure e lunedl, siamo pui
oggi al 20 di luglio e corre 1' anno 1366. Conta sulle dita e vedrai che son
passati 62 anni da che toccai 1' inquieta soglia di questa vita ; si che oggi
appunto, e in quest' ora medesima, io pongo il piede su quel che dicono annc
tremendo sessagesimo terzo, e se tu non menti, e, secondo il costume che
dissi de' giovani, qualcuno pure tu non te ne scemi nell' ordine del nascere.
io ti precedo di nove anni." Then if Petrarch was born in 1304, Boccaccic
was born in 13 13. FlLlPPO Villani, Le Vite d' uomini illustri Fiorentin,
(Firenze, 1826), p. 12, tells us that Boccaccio died in 1375, aged sixty-two.

2 Cf. Davidsohn, // Padre di Gio. Boccacci in Arch. St. It., Ser. V.
Vol. XXIII, p. 144. Idem, Forschungen zur Geschichte von Floren:

Berlin, 1901), pp. 172, 182, 184, 187, 253. G. Mini, 77 Libro d' on
di Firenze Antica in Giornale Araldico-genealogico-diplomatico (1901).
XXVIII, p. 156. And see for the descendants of the family an interesting
paper by Anselmi, Nuovi documenti e nuove opere di jrate Ambrogio dellc
Robbia nelle Marche in Arte e Storia (1904), XXIII, p. 154.

3 He himself tells us this in De Montibus, Sylvis, Lacubus, etc.

4 See the documents published by Crescini, Contributo agli Studi su
Boccaccio (Torino, 1887), esp. p. 258.

5 See Arch, di Stato Firenze, Mercanzia, No. 137, ad ann., May 23.

1323] PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOeL> 5

he represented the Societa de' Bardi in Naples, and was
very well known to King Robert;1 while in 1332 he was
one of the Fattori for the same Societa in Paris, a post at
least equivalent to that of a director of a bank to-day.
These were positions of importance, and could not have
been held by a person of no account.

As a young man, in 13 10, we know he was in business
in Paris, for on May 12 in that year fifty-four Knights
Templars were slaughtered there,2 and this Boccaccio tells
us his father saw.3 That there was at that time a con-
siderable Florentine business in France in spite of those
years of disaster — Henry VII had just entered Italy — is
certain. In 131 1, indeed, we find the Florentines address-
ing a letter to the King of France,4 lamenting that at such a
moment His Majesty should have taken measures hurtful
to the interests of their merchants, upon whom the pros-
perity of their city so largely depended.

Boccaccio di Chellino seems to have remained in Paris
in business;5 that he was still there in 13 13 we know, for

1 In the carteggio of the Signoria Fiorentina (missive iv. f. 37 of Arch, di
Stato di Firenzc) is to be found the copy of a letter from the Priori to King
Robert, which has been published. The Signoria on April 12, 1329, write
to King Robert that the lack of corn in the city is so great as to cause fear
of tumult ; wherefore they pray him to order the captains of his ships to
send certain galleys they had taken with corn to Talamone, where they
might buy what they needed. Under this letter is written : "Ad infra
scriptos mercatores. Predicta notificata sunt Boccaccio de Certaldo, Baldo
Orlandini et Acciaiolo de Acciaiolis, et mandatum est et scriptum, quod
litteras predictas domino regi presententur." It follows that Boccaccino was
among the first Florentine negozianti then in Naples. But see infra. He
must have come into personal relations with King Robert on this occasion,
even though hitherto he had not done so.

2 Cf. Havemann, Geschichte des ausgangs des Tempelherrenordens (Stutt-
gart, 1846), pp. 261-3, and Crescini, Contribuio agli studi sul Boccaccio
(Torino, 1887), cap. i. p. 25. Crescini's book is invaluable.

3 He tells us this in the De Casibus lllustrium Virorum, Lib. IX.

4 See Desjardins, Associations Diplomatiques de la France avec la Tos-
cane, Vol. I, p. 12 et seq., and Villari, The First Two Centuries of Floren-
tine History (Eng. trans., 1905), p. 554.

5 That he was not a mere traveller between Tuscany and France seems
certain, for Boccaccio says: "Boccaccius genitor meus, qui tunc forte
Parisius negotiator, honesto cum labore rem curabat augere domesticam,"
etc.

6 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [131*

in that year, on March II, Jacques de Molay, Master of
the Templars, was executed, and Giovanni tells us that his
father was present1 If, then, Boccaccio was speaking the
truth when he told Petrarch he was born in 1313, he must
have been conceived, and was almost certainly born, in Paris.
Let us now examine such evidence as we may gather
from the allegories of his own poems and plays, though
there he speaks in parables. In two of his works at
least — the Filocolo and the Ameto — Boccaccio seems to be
speaking of himself in the characters of Idalagos2 and
Caleone and Ibrida. The Ameto, like the Filocolo, was
written to give expression to his love for Fiammetta,
the bastard daughter of King Robert of Naples. There
he says that Caleone (whom we suppose to be in some
sort himself) was born not far from the place whence
Fiammetta's mother (whom he has told us was French)
drew her origin. Again, in another part of the same
book the story is related of a young Italian merchant,
not distinguished by birth or gentle breeding, who went to
Paris and there seduced a young French widow. The
fruit of their intercourse was a boy, who received the
name of Ibrida. The evidence to be gathered from the
Filocolo is even more precise, but, briefly, it may be said
to confirm the story in the Ameto? We find there, how-
ever, that the name of the father was Eucomos, which
may be bad Greek for Boccaccio ; that the name of the
mother was Gannai, which might seem to be an anagram for
Giovanna or Gianna ; and that the father deserted the
mother in order to marry Gharamita,4 which sounds like

1 Boccaccio, De Cas. 111. Vir., Lib. IX. Cf. Crkscini, op. cit.

2 Cf. Crescini, op. cit., cap. i. ; Antona Traversi, Delia patria di Gio.
Boccacccio in Fanfulla delta Domenica (1880), II, and in Rivista Europec
(1882), XXVI. See also B. Zumbini, // Filocolo del Boccaccio (Firenze.
1879), esp. p. 58 ; and Crescini, Idalagos in Zeitschrift fur Rom. Phil.
(1885-6), IX, 457-9, X, 1-21.

3 Cf. Ameto in Opere Mtnori (Milan, 1879), P* x36 et seq.; and Filocolo in
Opere Volgari, ed. Moutier (Firenze, 1827), Vol. II, p. 236 et seq.

4 For a full discussion of these allusions and anagrams, cf. Crescini,
Contributo agli studi sul Boccaccio (Torino, 1887), cap. i. It will be seen

TIIK BURNING OF THE MASTER OF THE TEMPLE
From a miniature in the French version of the " De Casibus I 'irorwn," made in /joq
l>y Laurent le Premier/ait. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Mus. Showcase V, MS. 12b.)

i3-^l PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD 7

an anagram for Margherita, and in fact we find that
Boccaccio di Chellino did marry almost certainly about
1 3 14 Margherita di Gian Donato de' Martoli.1

The result then of these allegorical allusions in the
yto and the Filocolo is to support the theory based on
the few facts we possess, and to supplement it. That
theory absolutely depends, so far as we rely upon facts
for its confirmation, on Boccaccio's own statement, as
reported by Petrarch, that he was born in 13 13. If he
was born in 13 13, he was conceived and born in Paris, for
we know that Boccaccio di Chellino was there in the
years between 13 10 and 13 13. The Filocolo and the
Ameto bear this out, and lead us to believe that his
mother was a certain Gianna or Gannai (Jeanne, Giovanna),
that he was born out of wedlock, and that his father
deserted his mother, and not long after married Gharamita,
as we suppose Margherita di Gian Donato de' Martoli.

Turning now to the evidence of his contemporaries, we
shall find that just this was the opinion commonly re-
ceived, so much so that the Italian translator of Filippo
Villani's Lives actually changed the words of that author
and forced him to agree with it. " His father," says this
adapter,2 " was Boccaccio of Certaldo, a village of the
Florentine dominion. He was a man distinguished by
excellence of manners. The course of his commercial

that if our theory be correct, Giovanni Boccaccio bears the names of both
his parents — Giovanna and Boccaccio. It is necessary to point out, how-
ever, that there is not much in this, for a paternal uncle was called Yanni, and
Giovanni may have been named after him, as his brother was named after
another uncle. Cf. Baldelli, Vita di Gio. Boccaccio (Firenze, 1806), p. -74.
note 1.

1 In the Filocolo (cd. cit. , Vol. II, pp. 242-3) we read : " Ma non lungo tempo
quivi ricevuti noi dimoro, che abbandonata la semplice giovane e Y armento
torao nei suoi campi, e quivi appresso noi si tiro, e non guari lontano al suo
natal sito la promessa fede a Giannai ad un' altra, Garainita chiamata,
ripromise e serv6, di cui nuova prole dopo piccolo spazio riceveo." Cf.
Baldelli, Gio. Boccaccio (Firenze, 1S06), p. 275.

- See F. Villani, Le Vitect uomini illustri Fionn'ii:: (Firenze, 1S26).
F. Villani was a contemporary of Boccaccio, and succeeded him in the chair
founded at Florence for the exposition of the Divine Comedy.

8 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [*3*3-

affairs brought him to Paris, where he resided for a
season, and being free and pleasant in the temper of his
mind, was no less gay and well inclined to love by the
complexion of his constitution. There then it befell
that he was inspired by love for a girl of Paris, belonging
to the class between nobility and bourgeoisie, for whom he
conceived the most violent passion ; and, as the admirers
of Giovanni assert, she became his wife and afterwards
the mother of Giovanni."

As his admirers assert ! But others were not slow to say
that his father and mother were never married ; and
indeed, this without doubt was the ordinary opinion.

In the true version of Filippo Villani's Lives,1 written in
Latin, we read that he was the son of his natural father,2
and that he was born at Certaldo. Domenico Aretino3
agrees that Certaldo was his birthplace, and adds that in
his opinion Boccaccio was a bastard. Again, Salvini and
Manni, following perhaps the well-known sonnet of
Acquettino, say he was born in Florence.4 In all this
confusion we are like to lose our way, and it is therefore
not surprising that modern scholars are divided in opinion.

1 See Galletti, Philippi Villani : Liber de Civitatis Florentiae famosis
civibus ex codice Mediceo Laurentiano, nunc primum editus, etc. (Firenze,
1847), and on this Cal6, Filippo Villani e il Liber de Origine civitatis, etc.
(Rocca S. Casciano, 1904), pp. 154-5.

2 The son of his " natural father " may mean that Boccaccio di Chellino
was not his adoptive father, or it may mean that Giovanni was a bastard. See
on this Crescini, op. cit., p. $%etseq., and Della Torre, La Giovinezzadi
Gio. Boccaccio (Citta di Castello, 1905), cap. i.

3 Domenico Bandini Aretino says: " Boccatius pater ejus . . . amavit
quamdam iuventulam Parisinam, quam prout diligentes Ioannem dicunt
quamquam alia communior sit opinio sibi postea uxorem fecit, ex qua genitus
est Ioannes." See Solerti, Le vite di Dante, Petrarca e Boccaccio scritte

jitio al secolo XVLL (Milano, 1904). The lives of Boccaccio constitute the
hird part of the volume ; the second of these is Domenico's. Cf. Messera,
Lepiu antic he biografie del Boccaccio \xiZeitschriftfur Rom. Phil. ( 1903), XXVII,
fasc. iii. See also Crescini, op. cit., p. 16, note I, and Antona Traversi,
op. cit. in Fanfulla della Domencia, II, 23, where many authors of this
opinion are quoted.

4 Giovanni Acquettino da Prato was a bad poet. His sonnet says :
" Nacqui in Firenze al Pozzo Toscanelli." Pozzo Toscanelli was in the S.
Felicita quarter, close to the Via Guicciardini.

1323) PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD 9

Tiraboschi1 remains undecided. Baldelli2 thinks he was
born in Paris and was illegitimate ; Ginguene, Witte,
Carducci, Landau, Hortis, Antona Traversi, and Crescini
agree with Baldelli — and, indeed, we find only two modern
students who give Florence as his birthplace, to wit
Corazzini3 and Koerting,4 who agree, however, that he
was a bastard.

It will thus be seen that the weight of opinion is on the
side of the evidence, and that it certainly seems to have
been shown that Boccaccio was born out of wedlock in
Paris in 13 13, and that his mother's name was Jeannette
or Jeanne.5

1 St. della Lett. Ital. (1823), V, part iii. p. 738 et seq.

2 Oj>.cit.,w 277-80.

3 Corazzini, Lettere edite e inedite di G. Boccaccio (Firenze, 1877), p. viii.
et seq.

4 Koerting, Boccaccio's Leben und Werke (Leipzig, 1880), p. 67 et seq.,
and Boccaccio Analekten in Zeitschrift fur Rom. Phil. (1881), v. p. 209 et seq.
If Antona Traversi has disposed of Corazzini's assertions, Crescini seems
certainly to have demolished the arguments of Koerting.

5 All the dates and facts so carefully established by Crescini and Della
Torre are really dependent on the date of Boccaccio's birth, 131 3, being the
true one. This is the corner-stone of their structure. But the story of his
illegitimacy and foreign birth was current long before this date was
established. It was the commonly received opinion. Why? Doubtless
because Boccaccio himself had practically stated so in the Filocolo and the
Ameto. That Filippo Villani's Italian translator was dependent on these
allegories for his story seems to be proved (cf. Della Torre, op. cit.,p. 30);
so probably was the general public. The question remains : Was Boccaccio
speaking the mere truth concerning himself in these allegories? Filippo
Villani himself, as we have seen, believed that he was born at Certaldo ; so
did Domenico Aretino. For myself, I do not think that enough has been
allowed for the indirect influence of Fiammetta in the Filocolo and the Ameto.
They were written for her — to express his love for her. She was the ille-
gitimate daughter of King Robert of Naples by the wife of the nobleman
Conte d Aquino — a woman of French extraction. It is strange, then, that
Boccaccio's story of his birth in the allegories should so closely resemble
hers. She doubtless thought herself a very great lady, and was probably
prouder of her royal blood than a legitimate princess would have been. But
Boccaccio was just the son of a small Florentine trader ; and he was a Poet.
To proclaim himself — half secretly — illegitimate was a gain to him, a gain in
romance. How could a youthful poet, in love with a princess too, announce
himself as the son of a petty trader, a mere ordinary bourgeois, to a lady so
fine as the blonde Fiammetta ? Of course he could not absolutely deny that
this was so, especially after his father's visit (1327), and also we must
remember that the Florentine trader held, or is supposed to have held, quite
a good social position even in feudal Naples. Nevertheless his bourgeois

io GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO ['313-

It is probable that Boccaccio was brought still a tiny
baby to Florence, but we cannot be sure of this, for though
his father seems to have returned in 1314,1 and almost at
once to have married Margherita di Gian Donato de' Martoli,
it is not certain that Giovanni accompanied him. Indeed the
Filocolo seems to suggest that he did not.2 However that
may be, he was " in his first infancy " when he came to
Tuscany, as he tells us in the Ameto, " fanciullo, cercai i
regni Etrurii." The first river he saw was the Arno,
" mihi ante alios omnes ab ipsa infantia cognitus " ; and
his boyhood was spent on that little hill described in the
Filocolo, " piccolo poggio pieno di marine chiocciole," and
covered with " salvatichi cerri," in the house of his father,
" nel suo grembo," as he says in the Fiammetta.

Where was this hill dark with oaks where one might
find sea-shells, the tiny shells of sea-snails ? We do not
know for certain. Some have thought it to be the hill of
Certaldo,3 but this seems scarcely likely, for we know that
old Boccaccio was resident in Florence in 13 18, and
Boccaccio himself tells us that his boyhood was spent not
in a house belonging to his father, but " nel suo grembo,"
literally in his father's lap.4 Again, the country which he

birth did not please the greatest story-teller of Europe. So he invented a
romantic birth — he too would be the result of a love-intrigue, even as
Fiammetta was. And because he loved her, and therefore wished to be as
close to her and as like her as possible, he too would have a French mother.
Suppose all this to be true, and that after all Boccaccio is the son of
Margherita, the wife of his father ; that he was born in wedlock in 1 3 1 8 ; that he
met Fiammetta not on March 30, 133 1 (see Appendix I), but on March 30,
1336, and that he told Petrarch he was born in 13 13 because he knew his
father was in Paris at that date — this last with his usual realism to clinch
the whole story he had told Fiammetta.

1 In 1 3 18 Boccaccio di Chellino is spoken of as having been a dweller in the
quarter of S. Pier Maggiore for some four years. See Manni, Istoria del
Decameron (Firenze, 1742), p. 7, who gives the document. This may mean
little, however, for the residence may have been purely formal, and have
signified merely that a business was carried on there in his name. But see
Crescini, op. cit., pp. 40 and 41, note I, and Della Torre, op. cit.y pp.
7-14.

2 Cf. Filocolo, ed. cit., Vol. II, pp. 242-3.

3 Della Torre, op. tit., p. 2.

4 Moreover, as we shall see, the story of the "two bears" which in his

W3) PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD n

loved best and has described with the greatest love and
enthusiasm is that between the village of Settignano and
the city of Fiesole, north and east of Florence. As though
unable to forget the lines of just those hills, the shadows
on the woods there, the darkness of the cypresses over the
olives, he returns to them again and again. The Ninfale
Fiesolano is entirely devoted to this country, its woods and
hills and streams ; he speaks of it also in the Ameto} it is
the setting of the Decameron ; while the country about
Certaldo does not seem to have specially appealed to him,
certainly not in the way the countryside of one's childhood
never ceases to do.

It is, then, to the hills about Settignano, to the woods
above the Men sola and the valley of the AfTrico, that we
should naturally turn to look for the scenes of his boyhood.
And indeed any doubt of his presence there might seem to
be dismissed by a document discovered by Gherardi,
which proves that on the 18th of May, 1336, by a contract
drawn up by Ser Salvi di Dini, Messer Boccaccio di Chel-
lino da Certaldo, lately dwelling in the parish of S. Pier
Maggiore and then in that of S. Felicita, sold to Niccolo
di Vegna, who bought for Niccolo the son of Paolo his
nephew, the poderi with houses called Corbignano, partly
in the parish of S. Martino a Mensola and partly in that
of S. Maria a Settignano.2 This villa of old Boccaccio's
exists to-day at Corbignano, and bears his name, Casa di
Boccaccio, and though it has been rebuilt much remains
from his day — part of the old tower that has been broken

allegory followed his father and drove himself out of the house — to Naples —
seems to make it necessary that they should all have been living together.
See infra, p. 14.

1 In the first page he says: "Vagabondo giovane i Fauni e le Driadi
abitatrici del luogo, solea visitare, et elli forse dagli vicini monti avuta antica
origine, quasi da carnalita costretto, di cio avendo memoria, con pietosi
affetti gli onorava talvolta. . . ."

2 The document is given in full in Appendix II. The fact that the parish
of S. Pier Maggiore is mentioned proves that when Boccaccio di Chellino
was married, he was living therein, for the property was part of the dowry of
Margherita di Gian Donato his first wife.

12 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [w&

down and turned into a loggia, here a ruined fresco, there
a spoiled inscription.1 Here, doubtless, within sound of
Mensola and Affrico, within sight of Florence and Fiesole,
" not too far from the city nor too near the gate," Giovanni's
childhood was passed.

Of those early years we have naturally very little know-
ledge. Before he was seven years old, as he himself tells
us,2 he was set to learn to read and write. Then he was
placed in the care of Giovanni di Domenico Mazzuoli da
Strada, father of the more famous Zanobi, to begin the
study of " Grammatical 3 With Mazzuoli he began Latin
then,4 but presently his father, who had already destined him
for the counting-house, took him from the study of " Gram-
matica" and, as Giovanni tells us, made him give his time to
" Arismetrica." 5 Then, if we may believe the Filocolo, he
took him into his business, where he learned, no doubt, to
keep books of account and saw some of the mysteries
of banking and money-lending. Against this mode of life
he conceived then a most lively hatred, which was to
increase rather than to diminish as he grew older. Such
work, he assures us in his Commentary on the Divine
Comedy^ cannot be followed without sin. Great wealth,
he tells us in the Filocolo, prohibits, or at least spoils virtue :

1 See my Country Walks About Florence (Methuen, 1908), pp. 13-15.
Casa di Boccaccio is within sight and almost within hail of Poggio Gherardo,
the supposed scene of the first two days of the Decameron.

2 In the De Genealogiis Deorum, Lib. XV, cap. x., he says: " Non dum ad
septimum annum deveneram . . . vix prima literarum elementa cognoveram.
..." At this time he was already composing verses, he says.

3 Cf. Massera, Le piu antiche biografie in Zeitschrift fur Rom. Phil. ,
XXVII, pp. 310-18. But see Crescini, op. cit., p. 48, note 3 ; and in reply
Bella Torre, op. cit., p. 3, note 5.

4 "Qui . . . ferula . . . ab incunabulis puellulos primum grammatics
gradum tentantes cogere consueverat," writes Boccaccio in the letter to
Iacobo Pizzinghe. See Corazzini, Le Lett. ed. e ined. di G. B. (Firenze, 1877),
p. 196, and Filocolo, ed. cit., I, 75-6. It was probably the Metamorphoses
of Ovid that he read with Mazzuoli, though in the Filocolo he speaks of the
Ars Amandi! The Metamorphoses were read for the sake of the mythology
as well as for the exercise in Latin. Cf. Della Torre, op. cit. , p. 4.

5 Cf. Hecker, Boccaccio Funde (Braunschweig, 1902), p. 288, and
Massera, cp. cit., p. 310.

p^v3

1323] PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD 13

there is nothing better or more honest than to live in a
moderate poverty ; while in the De Genealogiis Deorum he
says poverty means tranquillity of soul : for riches are
the enemy of quietness and a torment of the mind.

But we know nothing of his childhood, only it seems to
have been unhappy. Till his return from Naples many
years later, in spite of his hatred for business, he seems
always to have got on well with his father.1 In re-
membering words which he then wrote concerning him 2
we must remind ourselves that Boccaccino was at that
time an old man, and had probably lost those " excellent
manners " of which Villani speaks ; and by then, too,
Giovanni had altogether disappointed him, by forsaking
first business, and later the study of Canon Law. His
childhood seems to have been unhappy then not from any
fault or want of care on his father's part, though no doubt
his hatred of business had something to do with it ; but
the true cause of the unhappiness, and even, as he says, of
the fear which haunted his boyhood, was almost certainly
Margherita, his stepmother, with whom he doubtless
managed to live well enough till her son Francesco was
born.

We have already relied so much on the Filocolo and the
Ameto that it will only confuse us to forsake them now.
In the former,3 he tells us that one day the young

1 Della Torre, op. cti., pp. 5, 6.

2 In the A?neto : —

" Li non si ride mai se non di rado,

La casa oscura e muta, e molto trista

Me ritiene e riceve a mal mio grado ;

Dove la cruda ed orribile vista

D' un vecchio freddo, ruvido ed avaro

Ogn' ora con affanno phi m' attrista."
No doubt, after the gaiety of Naples and its court, the life with an old and
poor Florentine merchant seemed dull ; and besides, Fiammetta was far
away.

3 Filocolo, ed. cit., Vol. II, p. 243. He says: " Io semplice elascivo"
(cf. Paradzso, v. 82-4) "come gia dissi, le pedate dello ingannator padre
seguendo, volendo un giorno nella paternale casa entrare, due orsi ferocissimi
e terribili mi vidi avanti con gli occhi ardenti desiderosi della mia morte, de'

i4 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1313-2

shepherd, Idalagos (himself), following his father, saw
two bears, who glared at him with fierce and terrible
eyes in which he saw a desire for his death, so that he
was afraid and fled away from the paternal fields to follow
his calling in other woods. These two bears who chased
Giovanni from home, not directly but indirectly, by caus-
ing the fear which hatred always rouses in the young,
were, it seems, Margherita and her son Francesco, born
about 1321.

It may well be that Boccaccino had come to the con-
clusion about this time that Giovanni would never make
a banker, and hoping yet to see him prosperous in the
Florentine manner, sent him to Naples to learn to be a
merchant. If we add to this inference the evidence of the
allegory of the two bears in the Fz/oco/o, we may conclude
that his father, disappointed with him already, was not
hard to persuade when Margherita, loath to see the
little bastard beside her own son Francesco, urged his
departure.

All this, however, is conjecture. We know nothing of
Boccaccio's early years save that his father sent him to
Naples to learn business while he was still young, as is
generally believed in 1330, but as we may now think, not
without good reason, in 1323, when he was ten years
old.1

quali dubitando io volsi i passi miei, e da quell' ora inrianzi sempre d' entrare
in quella dubitai. Ma acciocche io piu vero dica, tanta fu la paura, che
abbandonati i paternali campi, in questi boschi venni 1' apparato uficio
a operare." Crescini in Kritischer Jahresbericht iiber Fortschrifte der
Ro?n. Phil. (1898), III, p. 396 et seq., takes these two bears to be old
Boccaccio and Margherita, but Della Torre, op. cit., pp. 18-30, asks very
aptly how could Boccaccio speak thus of a father he allows in the Fiammetta
"per la mia puerizia nel suo grembo teneramente allevata, per 1' amor da lui
verso di me continuamente portato." Della Torre takes the two bears
to be Margherita and her son Francesco, born ca. 1321. See op. cit., p.
24, and document there quoted.

1 See Appendix I, where the whole question is discussed. Cf. Della
Torre, op. cit., p. 30, note 1, and caps. ii. and iii.; Casetti, II Boccaccio a
Napoli in Nuova Antoiogia (1875) ; and De Blasiis, La Dimora di Gio.
Boccaccio a Napoli in Arch. St. per le prov. Nap. (1892), XXII, p. n
et seq.

CHAPTER II

i323-T33°

HIS ARRIVAL IN NAPLES — HIS YEARS WITH THE
MERCHANT— HIS ABANDONMENT OF TRADE AND
ENTRY ON THE STUDY OF CANON LAW

IN the fourteenth century the journey from Florence
by way of Siena, Perugia, Rieti, Aquila, and Sulmona,
thence across the Apennines at II Sangro, and so
through Isernia and Venafro, through Teano and
Capua to Naples, occupied some ten or eleven days.1
The way was difficult and tiring, especially for a lad of ten
years old, and it seems as though Giovanni was altogether
tired out, for, if we may believe the Ameto? as he drew

1 It seems strange that Boccaccio did not follow the Via Francigena for
Rome, as Henry VII and all the emperors did, till we remember that the
Pope was in Avignon and the City a nest of robbers. The route given above
is, according to De Blasiis, the one he took, though of course there is no
certainty about it. Cf. De Blasiis, op. cit., pp. 513-14-

There is also this to be considered that, according to Delia Torre's theory,
which we accept, Boccaccio's journey took place in December, 1323. But Mr.
Heywood informs me that at that date the country about Perugia was in
a state of war. Spoleto was then being besieged by the Perugians, and
the Aretine Bishop was perpetually organising raids and incursions for
her relief. In the autumn Citta di Castello had revolted and given herself to
the Tarlati, and even if (owing to the season of the year and the consequent
scarcity of grass for the horses of the milites) military operations were impos-
sible on a large scale in the open country, the whole contado must still have
been full of marauding bands. This route then via Perugia would have been
dangerous if not impossible. The explanation may be that the Florentines
and Sienese were allied with the Perugians. Certainly in the spring of 1324
there were Florentine troops in the Perugian camp before Spoleto. Perhaps
the boy found protection by travelling with some of his military compatriots.
In 1327 (see infra) the route suggested by De Blasiis ahd accepted by Della
Torre would have been reasonable enough.

2 Ameto {Opere Minori, Milano, 1879), p. 225.

16 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO li-

near the city at last he fell asleep on his horse. And as he
slept, a dream came to him. Full of fear as he was,
lonely and bewildered, those "two bears" still pursuing
him, doubtless, in his heart, suddenly it seemed to him
that he was already arrived in the city. " The new streets,"
he says in the Ameto} "held my heart with delight, and as
I passed on my way there appeared to the eyes of my
mind a most beautiful girl, in aspect gracious and fair,
dressed all in garments of green, which befitted her age
and recalled the ancient dress of the city ; and with joy
she gave me welcome, first taking me by the hand, and she
kissed me and I her ; and then she said sweetly, ' Come
where you shall find good luck and happiness.' " 2 It was
thus Giovanni was welcomed into Naples with a kiss.
Naples was then at the height of its splendour, under
Robert the Wise, King of Jerusalem and the Two Sicilies,
Count of Provence. If his titles had little reaiity. for that
of Jerusalem merely commemorated an episode of history,
and Sicily itself had passed into the hands of Aragon, as
King of Naples and Count of Provence he possessed an
exceptional influence in the affairs of Europe, while in
Italy he was in some sort at the head of the triumphant
Guelf cause. The son of Charles I of Anjou, King of
Naples, Duke Robert, had seized the crown of Italy and
Apulia, not without suspicion of fratricide ; for the tale
goes that none knew better than he the cause of the sudden
illness which carried off his elder brother, Dante's beloved
Charles Martel. However that may be, in June, 1309,

1 My translation is free ; I give therefore the original : " . . . le mai non
vedute rughe con diletto teneano 1' anima mia, per la quale cosi andando,
agli occhi della mente si paro innanzi una giovane bellissima in aspetto,
graziosa e leggiadra, e di verdi vestimenti vestita ornata secondo che la sua eta
e 1' antico costume della citta richiedono ; e con liete accoglienze, me prima
per la mano preso, mi bacio, ed io lei ; dopo questo aggiugnendo con voce
piacevole, vieni dove la cagione de' tuoi beni vedrai."

2 One may contrast this vision of welcome with that which had driven him
away. Of such is the symmetry of Latin work. He himself calls this a
prevision of Fiammetta. We cannot help reminding ourselves that the Vita
Nuova was already known to him when he wrote thus.

i33o] NAPLES 17

Duke Robert went by sea from Naples to Provence to the
Papal Court there, " with a great fleet of galleys," Villani 1
tells us, " and a great company, and was crowned King of
Sicily and of Apulia by Pope Clement on S. Mary's Day
in September." A year later we find him in Florence on
his way back from Avignon. He stayed in the house
of the Peruzzi dal Parlagio, and Villani 2 says : " The Floren-
tines did him much honour and held jousts and gave him
large presents of money, and he abode in Florence until
the 24th day of October to reconcile the Guelfs together
. . . and to treat of warding off the Emperor." He was,
in fact, the great opponent, as we have seen, of Henry VII,
and in 13 12 Villani3 records that he sent 600 Catalan
and Apulian horse to Rome to defend the City, while
the people of Florence, Lucca, and Siena, and of other
cities of Tuscany who were in league with him, sent
help also ; yet though they held half Rome between
them, Henry was crowned in the Lateran after all. It was
in the very year of the Emperor's death that the Florentines
gave him the lordship of their city, as did the Lucchese,
the Pistoians, and the men of Prato.4 Later, after much
fighting, the Genoese did the same ; so that in the year
1323 King Robert was in some sort drawing tribute from
more than half the Communes of Central Italy. The
brilliancy of his statecraft, or even, perhaps, of his states-
manship, added to the splendour of Naples, whither his
magnanimity and the brilliance of his court attracted
some of the greatest men of the time.5

" Cernite Robertum
Regem virtute refertum "

wrote Petrarch of him later — " full of virtue." While in a
letter written in 1340 to Cardinal Colonna he says that of
all men he would most readily have accepted King Robert

1 G. Villani, Cronica, Lib. VIII, cap. 112.

2 Ibid., Lib. IX, cap. 8. 3 Ibid., Lib. IX, cap. 39.
4 Ibid., Lib. IX, cap. 56. 6 Cf. De Blasiis, op. cit.

18 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [i3*JI

as a judge of his ability. Nor were they poets and men
of learning alone whom he gathered about him. In 1330
Giotto, who had known Charles of Calabria in Florence
in 1328,1 came to Naples on his invitation ; while so early
as 1 3 10, certainly, Simone Martini was known to him, and
seems about that time to have painted his portrait, later
representing him in S. Chiara as crowned by his brother
S. Louis of Toulouse.2 It was then into a city where
learning and the arts were the fashion that Boccaccio came
in 1323.

There were other things too : the amenity of one's days
passed so much in the open air, the splendour of a city
rich and secure, the capital of a kingdom, and the resi-
dence of a king — the only king in Italy — above all, per-
haps, the gaiety of that southern life in the brilliant
sunshine. Boccaccio never tires of telling us about
this city of his youth. " Naples," he says in the
Fiammetta, " was gay, peaceful, rich, and splendid above
any other Italian city, full of festas, games, and shows."
" One only thought, how to occupy oneself," he says again,
" how to amuse oneself, dancing to the sound of music, dis-
cussing affairs of love, and losing one's heart over sweet
words, and Venus there was indeed a goddess, so that
more than one who came thither a Lucrece returned a
Cleopatra. Sometimes," he continues, "the youths and
maidens went in the gayest companies into the woods,
where tables were prepared for them on which were set
out all manner of delicate meats ; and the picnic over,
they would set themselves to dance and to romp and
play. Some would glide in boats along the shore ; others,
dispensing with shoes and stockings, and lifting high
their petticoats, would venture among the rocks or into

1 See Crowe and Cavalcaselle, ed. E. Hutton (Dent, 1908), Vol.1, p. 26.

2 The picture, of life size, is still at Naples in S. Lorenzo Maggiore. Schulz,
Denk?}ialer der Kunst des Mittdalters in Unteritalien, Vol. Ill, p. 165, pub-
lishes a document dated 13 July, 1317, by which King Robert grants Simone
Martini a pension of twenty gold florins.

Anderson.
KING ROBERT OF NAPLES CROWNED BY S. LOUIS OF TOULOUSE
From the fresco by Simone Martini in S. Lorenzo, Naples.

1330] YEARS WITH THE MERCHANT 19

the water to find sea shells ; others again would fish with
lines." And then there were the Courts of Love held in
the spring, when the girls, adorned with splendid jewels,
as he tells us in the Filocolo^ tried to outshine one another,
and while the old people looked on, the young men
danced with them, touching their delicate hands. And
seeing that he was surrounded by a life like this, is it
any wonder that he fell in love with love, with beauty ?

Of the first years of his sojourn in that beautiful southern
place we have only the vaguest hints.1 In the De
Genealogiis2 he says that "for six years he did nothing
but waste irrecoverable time " with the merchant to whom
his father had confided him. He always hated business,
and precocious as he was in his love for literature, in the
gaiety and beauty of Naples he grew to despise those
engaged in money-making ; for, as he says in the Cor-
baccio, they knew nothing of any beautiful thing, but
only how to fill their pockets.3 Indeed Boccaccio might
seem to have had no taste or even capacity for anything
but study and the art of literature. He most bitterly
reproaches his father in the De Genealogiis^ for having
turned him for so many years from his vocation. " If my
father had dealt wisely with me I might have been among
the great poets," he writes. " But he forced me, in vain,

1 It is perhaps not altogether unlikely that for a boy the port and Dogana
would have extraordinary attractions. At any rate, Boccaccio in the tenth
novel of the eighth day of the Decameron describes the ways of " maritime
countries that have ports," how that " all merchants arriving there with mer-
chandise would on discharging bring all their goods into a warehouse,
called in many places 'Dogana.' ..."

2 Lib. XV, 10 : " Sex annis nil aliud feci quam non recuperabile tempus
in vacuum terere." Note these six years, they will be valuable to us when we
come to decide as to the year in which he first met Fiammetta, and thus to fix
the date of his advent to Naples. See Appendix I.

3 " Laddove essi del tutto ignoranti, niuna cosa piu oltre sanno, che
quanti passi ha dal fondaco, o dalla bottega alia lor casa ; e par loro ogni
uomo, che di cio egli volesse sgannare, aver vinto e confuso quando dicono :
all' uscio mi si pare, quasi in niun3 altra cosa stia il sapere, se non o in
ingannare o in guadagnare." Corbaccio in Opere Minori (Milano, 1879),
p. 277. Cf. Egloga xiii., where the same sentiments are expressed.

4 Lib. XV, cap. x.

20 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [i3»#

to give my mind to money-making, and to such a paying
thing as the Canon Law. I became neither a man of
affairs nor a canonist, and I lost all chance of succeeding
in poetry."

Those six irrecoverable years had indeed almost passed
away before even in Naples he was able to find, unlearned
as he was, " rozza mente " as he calls himself, any oppor-
tunity of culture. It was in 1328,1 it seems, that those
conversazioni astronomiche began with Calmeta, which
aroused in him the desire of wisdom.2 By that time his
father was in Naples, having come thither in the autumn
of 1327, and it may have been in his company that
Giovanni first met this the earliest friend of his youth.
But who was this Calmeta, this benefactor to whom, after
all, we owe so much? Andalo di Negro, says Crescini;3
but as Delia Torre reminds us, his work was done in
Latin, and Giovanni knew but little of the tongue. It
will be seen in the Filocolo^ to which we must turn again
for guidance, that Calmeta and Idalagos have the same
profession ; they are both shepherds, and it is in their
leisure that Calmeta teaches Idalagos astronomy. It
seems then that Calmeta was also in business in Naples.
That such an one there was Delia Torre proves by draw-
ing attention to a letter he will not allow to be apocryphal.4
Calmeta, then, as we see, like Giovanni, was inclined to
study, and more fortunate than he, had been able " tuam
puerilem aetatem coram educatoribus roborare, et vago
atque interno intuiti elementa grammatical ruminare . . ."

1 Cf. Della Torre, op. cit., pp. 109-11.

2 Cf. Filocolo, ed. cit,, Lib. IV, p. 244 et seq.

3 Crescini, op. cit., p. 47.

4 This letter is printed in Corazzini, Le Lett, edite e ined. (Firenze,
1877), p. 457. "Te igitur carissime," writes Boccaccio, " tam delectabilia
tarn animum attrahentia agentem cognovi, si recolis, et tui gratia tantse
dulcedinis effectus sum particeps tuus, insimul et amicus, in tam alto mysterio,
in tam delectabili et sacro studio Providentia summa nos junxit, quos
sequalis animi vinctos tenuit, retinet et tenebit. ..." This is the letter
beginning "Sacrse famis et angelicse viro," which we shall allude to
again.

1330] YEARS WITH THE MERCHANT 21

that is to say, to finish his elementary course of study,
which consisted of grammar, dialectic, and rhetoric.

But this new friendship was not the only thing that about
this time helped to strengthen Giovanni's dislike of business
and to encourage him in his love of learning and literature.
For in the same year, 1328, it seems likely that he was
presented at the court of King Robert,1 a court, as we
have already said, full of gay, delightful people and learned
men.2 It seems certain too that he was presented by his
father, who, as we have seen, between September and
November, 1327, came to Naples as a member of the
Societa de' Bardi.3 Now old Boccaccio not only went fre-
quently to court during his sojourn in Naples, for he was
very honourably received there, but was probably one of the
most considerable Florentine merchants in the city,4 and
then he had known Carlo, Duke of Calabria, in Florence,
before setting out.5 There can therefore be very little
doubt as to where Giovanni got his introduction.

Before his father left Naples, Giovanni, who was then
about sixteen years of age, had had the courage to tell him
that he could not pursue a business career.6 His father

1 Cf. De Blasiis, De Casibus, u.s., IX, 26, and Dell a Torre, op. cit.,
p. 112.

2 Cf. Faraglia, Barbato di Sulmona e gli uomini di lettere della Corte di
Roberto d ' Angid in Arch. St. Ital., Ser. V, Vol. Ill (1889), p. 343 et sea.

3 We fix the approximate date of Boccaccio's presentation at court by his
own words in the De Casibus Illustrium Virorzem, Lib. IX, cap. 26 : " Me
adhuc adulescentulo versanteque Roberti Hierosolymorum et Sicilicse Regis
in aula. ..." As we have seen, adolescence began, according to the reckon-
ing then, at fourteen years. To strengthen this supposition, we know that
Boccaccino was in Naples at that time, and in relations with King Robert.
See Appendix I.

4 See supra, p. 5, n. I.

5 Cf. De Blasiis, op. cit., p. 506, note 1. Davidsohn, Forschungen
zur Geschichte von Florenz (Berlin, 1901), III, p. 182, note 911. Della
Torre, op. cit., pp. 117-18. "Boccaccius de Certaldo de Societate Bar-
dorum de Florencia, consiliarius, cambellanus, mercator, familiaris et fidelis
noster," wrote the king of him. Cf. Davidsohn, op. cit., Ill, p. 187, note
942; and Ibid., II padre di Gio. Boccaccio in Arch. St. It., Ser. V, Vol.
XXIII, p. 144.

6 Cf. De Genealogiis, XV, 10 ; " Quoniam visum est, aliquibus ostendenti-
bus inditiis, me aptiorem literarum studiis, iussit . . . ut pontificum sanc-
tiones, dives exinde futurus, auditurus intrarem."

22 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO taq|

seems at last to have been convinced of this, and gave his
consent for study in the Arts, but, practical man as he was,
he believed in a fixed profession, and therefore set Giovanni
in 1329 1 to study Canon Law, which might well bring him a
career. So his father left him.

Whatever his duties had been or were to be, neither they
nor his studies with his friend the young merchant occupied
all his time. He enjoyed life, entering with gusto into the
gaiety of what was certainly the gayest city in Italy then
and later. He speaks often of the beauty of the women2
amid that splendour of earth and sky and sea ; and the
beautiful names of two he courted and loved, being in love
with love, have come down to us, to wit Pampinea, that
white dove " bianca columba," and Abrotonia, the " nera
merla " of the Filocolo? Like Romeo, Boccaccio had his
Rosaline. These were not profound passions, of course,
but the sentimental or sensual ardours of youth that were
nevertheless an introduction to love himself.4 They soon
passed away, though not without a momentary chagrin, for
if he betrayed the first, the second seems to have forsaken
him.

1 See supra, p. 19, n. 2, where, as we find in the De Genealogiis, he says that
for six years he did nothing but waste irrecoverable time. Thus if he came
to Naples in 1323 it was in 1329 that he began to study Law. The last we hear
of his father in Naples is in 1329.

2 " E come gli altri giovani le chiare bellezze delle donne di questa terra
andavano riguardando, ed io " {Ameto, ed. cit., p. 225). In the Filocolo {ed.
cit., Lib. IV, p. 246) he tells us that this was especially true in the spring.

3 Crescini, op. cit., p. 50. Whether Abrotonia and Pampinea were the
earliest of his loves seems doubtful. Cf. Renier, La Vita Nuova e Fiam-
metta, p. 225 et seq. Who was the Lia of the Ameto, and when did he meet
her? Cf. Antona Traversi, La Lia delP Ameto in Giornale di Filologia
romanza, n. 9, p. 130 et sea., and Crescini, Due Studi riguardanti opere
minoi-idel B. (Padova, 1882). Was she the same person as the Lucia of the
Amorosa Visione ? Or is the Lucia of the Amorosa Visione not a person at
all? See Crescini, lucia non Lucia in Giorn. St. della Lett. Lt., Ill, fasc. 9,
pp. 422-3. These are questions too difficult for a mere Englishman. An
excellent paper on Boccaccio's loves is that by Antona Traversi, Le prime
amanti di G. B. in Fanfulla della Domenica, IV, 19.

4 Della Torre finds these love affairs to have befallen 1329. I have, as in
almost all concerning the youth of Boccaccio, found myself in agreement
with him. But cf. Hauvette, Une confession de Boccace — // Corbaccio in
Bull. Ltal. , I, p. 5 et seq.

i33°] STUDY OF CANON LAW 23

After that disillusion he tells us he retired into his
room, and there, tired as he was, fell asleep half in tears.
And again, as once before, a vision came to him. He
seemed to be sitting, where indeed he was, all sorrowful,
when suddenly Abrotonia and Pampinea appeared to him.
For some time they watched him weeping, and then began
to make fun of his tears. He prayed them to leave him
alone since they were the first and only cause of his
grief, but the two damsels redoubled their laughter,
so that at last he turned to them and said : " Begone,
begone ! Is your laughter then the price of my verses
in your honour and of all my trouble?"1 But they
answered that it was for another that he had really
sung. Then he awoke ; it was still night, and, tearful
as he was, he rose to light the lamp, and sat thus thinking
for a time. But weary at last he returned to bed, and
presently falling asleep he dreamed again. Once more the
two girls stood before him, but with them was another,
fairer far, all dressed in green. Her they presented to him,
saying that it was she who would be the real " tyrant of
his heart." Then he looked at her, and behold, she was
the same lady he had seen in the first vision when, weary
with the long roads, he first drew near to Naples ; the very
lady indeed who bade him welcome and kissed him, and
whom he kissed again. So the dream ended.

What are we to think of these visions ? Did they really
happen, or are they merely an artistic method of stating
certain facts — among the rest that Fiammetta was about
to renew his life? But we have gone too far to turn
back now; we have already relied so much on the alle-
gories of the Ameto, the Filocolo, and the Fiammetta, that
we dare not at this point question them too curiously.
The visions are all probably true in substance if not in

1 " O giovani schernitrici de' danni dati e di chi con sommo studio per
addietro v' ha onorate ; levatevi di qui, questa noia non si conviene a me per
premio de' cantati versi in vostra laude, e delle avute fatiche."

24 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO d3*3*

detail. We must accept them, though not necessarily the
explanations that have been offered of them.1

All this probably happened at the end of 1329, and
Fiammetta was still more than a year away. By this time,
however, Boccaccio was already studying Canon Law.
Who was his master? He does not himself tell us. All
he says is in the De Genealogiis? and many reading that
passage have at once thought of Cino da Pistoja, chiefly
perhaps because it is so delightful to link together two
famous men.3 But while it is true that Cino was a doctor of
Law in Naples in 1330,4 we know that Boccaccio studied
Canon Law, and that Cino was a Doctor of Civil Law and
a very bitter enemy of the Canonist^ It seems indeed
impossible to name his master.6 Whoever he may have

1 Cf. Crescini, op. cit., p. 108, note 1.

2 Lib. XV, cap. x. : " . . . jussit genitor idem, ut pontificum sanctiones
dives exinde futurus, auditurus intrarem et sub preceptore clarissimo fere
tantumdem temporis in cassum etiam laboravi."

3 A letter forged probably by Doni, who posed as its discoverer, would
have confirmed this. The letter ran: " Di Pisa alii xix di aprile, 1338 —
Giovanni di Boccaccio da Certaldo discepolo e ubbidientissimo figliuolo
infinitamente vi si raccomanda." As is well known, Cino da Pistoja died at
the end of 1336 or beginning of 1337.

4 Cf. H. Cochin, Boccaccio (Sansoni, Firenze, 1901), trad, di Vitaliani.

5 De Blasiis, Cino da Pistoia nella Universita di Napoli in Arch. St. per
le prov. Nap., Ann. XI (1886), p. 149. Again, the course seems to have
been for six years under the same master, and although Cino was called to
Naples in August, 1330, he was in Perugia in 1332. Cf. De Blasiis, 0/. c£t.s

P- 149-

6 Baldelli, Vita, p. 6, note 1, thinks this master was Dionisio Roberti
da Borgo Sansepolcro. He adds that this man was in Paris in 1329, and
that Boccaccio there in that year began work under him. In defence of
this theory he cites a letter from Boccaccio himself to Niccola Acciaiuoli of
28th August, 1341, in which he says: " Ne e nuova questa speranza, ma
antica ; perocche altra non mi rimase, poiche il reverendo mio padre e
signore, maestro Dionigi, forse per lo migliore, da Dio mi fu tolto." (Cf.
Corazzini, op. cit., p. 18.) We may dismiss Baldelli's argument, for we have
decided that Boccaccio was in Naples in 1329, when he began the study of
Canon Law. But the conjecture itself gains a certain new strength from
the fact that Roberti was a professor in Naples. (See Renier, La Vita
Nuova e La Fiammetta, Torino, 1879. Cf. Gigli, / sonetti Baiani del
Boccaccio in Giomale St. delta Lett. Ltal., XLIII (1904), p. 299 et seq.) In
1328, however, he proves to have been in Paris, and in fact he did not arrive in
Naples till 1338. As I have said, the course lasted six years, and even
though we concede that Boccaccio began his studies under Roberti in 1338,
we know that three years later, in 1341, Roberti died (Della Torre,

i33o] STUDY OF CANON LAW 25

been, the study of Canon Law which presently became so
repugnant to Giovanni must have been at first, at any rate,
much more delightful than business. It probably gave
him more liberty for reading and for pleasure. He had,
of course, begun to study Latin again, and no doubt he
read Ovid, whom he so especially loved —

" Lo quale poetando
Iscrisse tanti versi per amore
Come acquistar si potesse mostrando." 1

No doubt, too, he read the Ars Amandi, "in which," he
says in the Filocolo, " the greatest of poets shows how the
sacred fire of Venus may be made to burn with care even
in the coldest," and knew it all by heart.

We may believe too that he read the Heroides, which
he imitated later in the letters of Florio to Biancofiore
and of Biancofiore to Florio; and the Metainorphoses, which
indeed we find on every page of the Filocolo.2

Delia Torre thinks3 that although Cino da Pistoja was
not his master, he certainly met him during his stay in
Naples between October, 1330, and July, 1 3 3 1 ,4 and it was
possibly through him that Boccaccio first read Dante. At
any rate, he read him, and shortly after he imitates and
speaks of him.5 He also studied at this time under

op. cit., p. 146). Besides, in 1341 Boccaccio had returned to Florence.
Roberti seems, indeed, to have been the protector rather than the master of
Boccaccio, even as Acciaiuoli was, and it is for this reason that Boccaccio
alludes to him in writing to Acciaiuoli in 1341 when Roberti was dead. The
doctors in Naples in 1329 are named by De Blasiis, op. cit., p. 149. Among
them were Giovanni di Torre, Lorenzo di Ravello, Giovanni di Lando,
Niccola Rufolo, Biagio Paccone, Gio. Grillo, Niccola Alunno.

1 Amoroso. Visione, v. 1 7 1-3.

2 Cf. Hortis, Studi sulle Opere Latine di Gio. Boccaccio, etc. (Trieste,

1879), P- 399-

3 Della Torre, op. cit., p. 151. But the strongest proof that Boccaccio
and Cino were friends is furnished by Volpi, Una Canzone di Cino da
Pistoia nel " Filostrato''' del Boccaccio in Bull. St. Pistoiese (1899), Vol. I,
fasc. 3, p. 116 et sea., who finds a song of Cino's in the Filostrato. It seems
probable, then, since they were in personal relations, that Cino introduced
the works of Dante to Boccaccio.

4 De Blasiis, op. cit., p. 139 et sea.

5 In the Filocolo (ed. cit.), II, 377, begun according to our theory in 1331.
I quote the following : " Ne ti sia cura di volere essere dove i misurati versi

26 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1323-30

Andalo di Negro,1 the celebrated astrologer, one of the
most learned men of his time, and we shall see to what
use he put the knowledge he acquired ; but who was it
who introduced to him the French Romances? Perhaps
it was one of the many friends he doubtless had among
the rich Florentine merchants and their sons then in
Naples ; 2 but indeed he could hardly have failed to meet
with them in that Angevin Court. That he knew the
romance of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round
Table we know,3 but he knew even better the legends of
the Romans and the Trojans, which he told Fiammetta,
who now comes into his life never really to leave him again.

del Fiorentino Dante si cantino, il quale tu, siccome piccolo servidore, molto
dei reverente seguire." Cf. Dobelli, // culto del Boccaccio per Dante in
Giornale Dantesca (1898), V, p. 207 et sea. See too the quotations from
Dante, for they are really just that in the Filostrato, part ii. strofa 50, et
passim, and see infra, pp. 77, n. 2, and 253, n. 5.

1 Cf. Bertolotto, // Trattato del? Astrolabio di A. di N. in Atti della
Soc. Liguria di St. Pat. (1892), Vol. XXV, p. 55 et sea. Also the De
Genealogiis, XV, 6, and Hortis, Studi, p. 158 and notes 1-3. Andalo
di Negro was born in 1260, it seems, at Genoa. In 1314 he was chosen by
the Signoria of Genoa as ambassador to Alessio Comneno of Trebizond, and
he carried out his mission excellently. He had already travelled much, and
after his embassy seems to have gone to Cyprus {Genealogiis, u.s.). He
passed his last years at the court of King Robert in Naples, who appointed
him astrologer and physician to the court. His pay was six ounces of gold
annually (Bertolotto, u.s.). He died in the early summer of 1334. He
was a learned astronomer and astrologer, and probably one of the most
remarkable men of his time.

2 Cf. De. Blasiis, op. cit., p. 494.

3 Cf. Amorosa Visione, cap. xxix.

CHAPTER III

I331

HIS MEETING WITH FIAMMETTA AND THE PERIODS
OF THEIR LOVE STORY

FOR it was in the midst of this gay life, full of
poetry and study, that he met her who was so
much more beautiful than all the other " ninfe
Partenopee," and who seemed to him " quella
che in Cipri gia fu adorata," that is to say, Venus herself.
He saw her first on a Holy Saturday, on the Vigil of
Easter, as he himself tells us, and as we think on
30th March, 1331.1 He had gone to Mass, it seems, about
ten o'clock in the morning, the fashionable hour of the
day, rather to see the people than to attend the service,
in the church of S. Lorenzo of the Franciscans. And there
amid that great throng of all sorts and conditions of
men he first caught sight of the woman who was so
profoundly to influence his life and shape his work.

" I found myself," he says, " in a fine church of
Naples, named after him who endured to be offered as
a sacrifice upon the gridiron. And there, there was a
singing compact of sweetest melody. I was listening to
the Holy Mass celebrated by a priest, successor to him
who first girt himself humbly with the cord, exalting
poverty and adopting it. Now while I stood there, the
fourth hour of the day, according to my reckoning, having
already passed down the eastern sky, there appeared to

1 See Appendix I.
27

28 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO t«33*

my eyes the wondrous beauty of a young woman, come
thither to hear what I too heard attentively. I had no
sooner seen her than my heart began to throb so strongly
that I felt it in my slightest pulses ; and not knowing
why nor yet perceiving what had happened, I began to
say, 'Ohime, what is this?' . . . But at length, being unable
to sate myself with gazing, I said, ' O Love, most noble
Lord, whose strength not even the gods were able to
resist,1 I thank thee for setting happiness before my
eyes ! ' . . .1 had no sooner said these words than the
flashing eyes of that lovely lady fixed themselves on
mine. . . ."2

Fiammetta, for it was she, was tall and slanciata ; her
hair, he tells us, "is so blonde that the world holds
nothing like it ; it shades a white forehead of noble
width, beneath which are the curves of two black and
most slender eyebrows . . . and under these two roguish
eyes . . . cheeks of no other colour than milk." This
description, even in the hands of Boccaccio, is little more
than the immortal " Item, two lips, indifferent red
. . ."3 Yet little by little in his work Fiammetta lives

1 Cf. Sophocles, Antigone, 781 etseq.

"'E/9a>s dvLKare /j,&xav

'Epojs 5s iv KTTj/xaai irlTrrecs,
6's iv fiaXaKats Trapeials
veavidos evvvxevet-S,

(poiras 5' vwepTrSvTios iv t aypovSfiois av\ai$'
km (r' oUrr* adav&Tuv <p6i-i/j,os ovdds
otid' afiepiaiv iir' avdpunrwv, 6 5' ^XU}V fJ-ifJ-yveV "
Yet when he wrote the Filocolo Boccaccio knew no Greek.

2 See Filocolo, ed. cit.y I, p. $et seq. The scene is described also in the
FilostratOy i. xxvi.-xxxiv. In the Fiammetta, cap. i., it is described from
Fiammetta's point of view.

3 In the Fiammetta {Opere Minori, Milano, 1879, p. 25) Boccaccio thus
describes himself on that morning through the eyes of Fiammetta ; it is in
keeping with the topsy-turveydom of that extraordinary work: " Dico che,
secondo il mio giudicio, il quale ancora non era da amore occupato, elli era
di forma bellissimo, nelli atti piacevolissimo ed onestissimo nell' abito suo,
e della sua giovinezza dava manifesto segnale la crespa lanugine, che pur ora
occupava le guancie sue ; e me non meno pietoso che cauto rimirava tra
uomo e uomo."

w] THE MEETING WITH FIAMMETTA 29

for us. On that day she was dressed in a bruna vesta}
and wearing a veil that fell from her head crowned with
a garland.2 After her golden hair, it is her eyes and her
mouth that he loves best in her.

" Due begli occhi lucean, si che fiammetta
Parea ciascun d' amore luminosa ;
E la sua bocca bella e piccioletta
Vermiglia rosa e fresca somigliava."3

He seems to have asked one of his companions who she
was, but he knew not.

" Io stetti molto a lei mirar sospeso
Perguardar s5 io 1' udissi nominare,
O ch' io '1 vedessi scritto breve o steso
Li nol vid' io ne 51 seppi immaginare."4

When she saw that he continued to stare at her, she
screened herself with her veil.5 But he changed his
position and found a place by a column whence he could
see her very well — " dirittissimamente opposto, . . . appo-
ggiato ad una colonna marmorea " — and there, while the
priest sang the Office, " con canto pieno di dolce
melodia,"6 he drank in her blonde beauty which the dark
clothes made more splendid — the golden hair and the
milk-white skin, the shining eyes and the mouth like a
rose in a field of lilies.7 Once she looked at him, —
" Li occhi, con debita gravita elevati, in tra la moltitudine
de' circostanti giovani, con acuto ragguardamento
distesi."s So he stayed where he was till the service was
over, "senza mutare luogo." Then he joined his com-
panions, waiting with them at the door to see the girls
pass out. And it was then, in the midst of other ladies,
that he saw her for the second time, watching her pass out

1 Ameto {ed. cit.), p. 228. We should have expected a green dress to
agree with the prevision ; but it was Sabbato Santo. On Easter Day she is in
green. See infra. 2 Fiammetta {ed. cit.), p. 23.

8 Amorosa Visione, cap. xv. 4 Ibid., cap. xvi.

5 Fiammetta {ed. cit.), p. 24. G Filocolo {ed. cit.), I, p. 5.

7 Ameto {ed. cit.), pp. 65-6. 8 Fiammetta {ed. cit.), p. 24.

30 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1331

of S. Lorenzo on her way home. When she was gone he
went back to his room with his friends, who remained
a short time with him. These, as soon as might be, ex-
cusing himself, he sent away, and remained alone with his
thoughts.

The morrow was Easter Day, and again he went to
S. Lorenzo to see her only. And she was there indeed,
" di molto oro lucente " — adorned with gems and dressed
in most fair green, beautiful both by nature and by art."1
Then remembering all things, he said to himself: "This is
that lady who in my boyhood (puerizia) and again not so
long ago, appeared to me in my dreams ; this is she who,
with a joyful countenance and gracious, welcomed me to
this city ; this is she who was ordained to rule my mind,
and who was promised me for lady, in my dreams."2
From this moment began for him " the new life."

Who was this lady "promised to him in his dreams,"
whose love was indeed the great prize of his youth ? We
know really very little about her, though he speaks of her
so often, but in three well-known places, in the Filocolo, the
Ameto, and the Amorosa Visione, he tells us of her origin.
It is in the Ameto that he gives us the fullest account of
her. In that comedy3 he tells us that at the court of King
Robert there was a gentleman of the wealthy and power-
ful house of Aquino who held in Naples "the highest
place beside the throne of him who reigned there." This
noble had married, we learn, a young Provengal, "per
bellezza da lodare molto," who with her husband lived in
the royal palace.4 Of this pair were born " some daughters
whom Fiammetta called sisters,"5 and a son who was
assassinated.6 Fiammetta's own birth is, we understand,
surrounded by a kind of mystery, u voluttuoso e lascivo,"
corresponding, as we shall see, to her own temperament.7

1 Ameto, ed. cit., p. 228. 2 Ibid.

3 Ibid., pp. 221-3. 4 Filocolo, ed. cit., I, p. 4.

5 Fiammetta, et. cit., pp. 114-17. 6 Ibid., p. 10 1.

7 Cf. Della Torre, op. cit., p. 182.

1331] THE MEETING WITH FIAMMETTA 31

Boccaccio suggests that her birth is connected with the
great festa which celebrated the coronation of King Robert,
that took place in Avignon in September, 1309.1 The
king returned to Naples by way of Florence, where he
arrived on September 30, 1310;2 he was still there in
October, and there was much fighting to be done, for
Henry VII was making war in Italy; so that it was not
till February 2, 1313,3 that the king opened the first
general parliament in Naples after his coronation. Delia
Torre4 thinks that it was on this occasion the great festa
described by Boccaccio took place. Its chief feature
seems to have been a banquet of the greatest magnifi-
cence, to which all the court as well as many of the
leading subjects of the Kingdom were bidden. Amid all
this splendour Boccaccio describes the king's gaze passing
over a host of beautiful women, to rest, always with new
delight, on the beauty of the young wife of D'Aquino,
who, since her husband belonged to the court, was
naturally present. Well, to make a long story short, a
little later the king seduced this lady, but as it seems, on
or about the same night she slept also with her husband,
so that when nine months later a daughter was born
to her, both the king and her husband believed them-
selves to be the father. It is like a story out of the
Decameron.

This daughter, the Fiammetta of his dreams, was born,
he tells us, in the spring5 — the spring then of 13146 —
and was named Maria.7 Before very long she lost her
mother, who however, before she died, told her as well as

1 Cf. Villani, Cronica, Lib. VIII, cap. 112.

2 Villani, op. cit., Lib. IX, cap. 8.

3 Cf. Arch. St. per le prov. nap., Vol. VII, pp. 220-1.

4 Della Torre, op. cit., p. 183.

5 Cf. Fiammetta, ed. cit., p. 21 : " Nel tempo nel quale la rivestita terra
piu che tutto 1' altro anno si mostra bella."

6 Cf. Baldelli, op. cit., p. 362, and Casetti, II Boccaccio a Napoli, ti.s.,
P* 573- So that Boccaccio's age did not differ much from Fiammetta's.

7 Filocolo, ed. cit., Vol. I, p. 4. In the Fiammetta, ed. cit., p. 21, we
learn that she was " in altissime delizie . . . nutrita."

32 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [133I

she could, considering her tender age, the mystery of her
birth. Not long after, her father — or rather her mother's
husband — died also, leaving the piccoletta "a vestali
vergini a lui di sangue congiunte . . . acciocche quelle di
costumi e d' arte inviolata servandomi, ornassero la gio-
vanezza mia";1 which is Boccaccio's way of saying that
she was placed in the care of nuns, the nuns, as Casetti2
supposes, of the Order of St. Benedict, to whom belonged
the very ancient church of S. Arcangelo a Baiano.3
There she grew up, and, like very many others of an
eager and sensuous temperament, totally unfitted for the
life of a religious, she desired too to be a nun, and this
desire, we learn, became definite in her after an ecstatic
vision in which S. Scholastica appeared to her4 and invited
her to take the vow. But happily this was not to be.
Her golden hair was not to fall under the shears of the
Church, but to be a poet's crown. She was too beautiful
for the cloister, and indeed already the fame of her beauty
had gone beyond the convent walls, which were in fact by
no means very secure or unassailable. In those days,
people "in the world," men as well as women, were re-
ceived even by the "enclosed" in the parlour of the convent,
where it was customary to hold receptions.5

So, we learn, there presently began a struggle in Fiam-
metta's heart — it was not of very long duration — between
her resolution to take the veil and her feminine vanity.
Little by little she began to adorn herself,6 she received
offers of marriage which by no means shocked her,

1 Ameto, ed. cit., pp. 222-3.

2 Cassetti, op. cit., p. 575.

3 See Filocolo, ed. cit., I, p. 6: "in un santo tempo del principe de
celestiali uccelli nominate " Cf. Catalogo di tutti gli edifici sacri della citta di
Napoli in Arch. St. per le prov. nap., VIII, p. 32.

4 Ameto, ed. cit., p. 223.

5 There are many examples of this.

u "Con sollecitudini ed arti." And again there came to her very soon
"dalla natura ammaestrata, sentendo quali disii alii giovani possono porgere
le vaghe donne, conobbi che la mia bellezza piu miei coetanei giovanetti ed altri
nobili accese di fuoco amoroso " {Fiammetta, ed. cit., p. 21).

331] THE MEETING WITH FIAMMETTA 33

>he became reconciled to the life of the world for
vhich she was so perfectly fitted by nature. Among
:he suitors, and apparently they were many, was "uno
lei piu nobili giovani . . . di fortuna grazioso, de'
Deni Giunonichi copioso, e chiaro di sangue."1 To him,
is to the rest, she replied with a refusal, to which she
,vas doubtless encouraged by the nuns, who could not
easily suffer so well-born and powerful a pupil to escape
:hem. The young man, however — we do not know his
lame — was not easily discouraged, and, renewing his suit,
,vas accepted. So she was married perhaps when she was
ibout fifteen years old, in 1329.2

Her beauty3 was famous, and she seems scarcely to
lave been married when she gave herself up to all the
voluptuousness of her nature, more or less mute in the
:onvent. That she could read we know, for she read not
Dnly Giovanni's letters, but Ovid,4 probably a translation
Df the Ars Amandi, and the French Romances.5 She was
greatly run after by the youth of the Neapolitan court,
who swore no festa was complete without her. Her hus-
band's house, too, was in such a position that not only the
citizens, but strangers, who must on arrival or departure
pass it by, might spy her at her window or on her balcony.6
Her excuse is this universal admiration, and the eagerness
of her temperament, which allowed her to pass with ease
from one lover to another.7 And then she also found

1 Ameto, ed. cit., p. 223.

2 Cf. Della Torrk, op. cit., p. 188. As to these early marriages, cf.
Decameron, X, 10. Griselda was but twelve years old, and Juliet, as we
remember, was " not fourteen." Fiammetta when Boccaccio first met her was
seventeen years old, " dix-sept est estrangement belle," and had already had
time for more than one act of infidelity.

3 Fiammetta, ed. cit., p. 92. 4 Ibid., pp. 52-4.

* Ibid., p. 130. 6 Filocolo, ed. cit., II, pp. 260-1.

7 Her excuse is also the morals of the time. There was temptation every-
where, as the Decameron alone without the evidence of the other novelle
would amply prove. Every sort of shift was resorted to. Procuresses, hired
by would-be lovers, forced themselves into the house of the young wife and
compelled her to listen to them. They deceived even the most jealous
husbands. The priest even acted as a pander sometimes and more often as

34 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [13;

that stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret i
pleasant.1 She excuses herself for having betrayed th
husband who loved her so much, and can say : " What i
lawfully pursued is apt to be considered of small accoun
even though it be most excellent, but what is difficult c
attainment, even if contemptible, is held in high esteem.,;
But, like all vain and sensual natures, she was cruel, an
' encouraged her suitors to squander their substance o
her, giving them nothing in return, and leading each t
suppose that he was the only one she loved, and that sh
was about to make him happy. " And I," she says t
Boccaccio in the character of Alleiram, "and I hav
laughed at them all, choosing, however, those who took m
fancy and who were judged apt to give me pleasure. Bu I
no sooner was the fire spent than I broke the vase whic
contained the water and flung away the pieces." Thes
words, so cynically moving, not only show us the cruelt;
of Maria's nature, but cast a strange light on the geners
condition of society in what was then, as later, the mos !
corrupt city in Italy. Such, then, was the blond
Fiammetta whom Boccaccio loved.

But how could he, a mere merchant's son, ever hope t<
reach the arms of this disdainful, indifferent lady? B;
means of poetry ? It seems so. But before replying full;

a seducer. Decameron, III, 3, and // Cortigiano di Castiglione, Lib. II]
cap. xx. The society in which she moved had no moral horror of this soi
of thing ; as to-day, the sin lay in being found out. A woman's onestd wa
not ruined by secret vice, but by the exposure of it, which brought ridicul
and shame.

1 "L' acqua furtiva, assai piu dolcecosa

E che il vin con abbondanza avuto ;

Cosi d' amor la gioia, che nascosa,

Trapassa assai del sempre mai tenuto

Marito in braccio. ..."

Filostrato, parte ii. strofe 74.
2 Fiammetta, ed. cit., p. 102. She thought poorly of marriage, consolini
herself when her lover marries by saying : "tutti coloro che moglie prendono
e che 1' hanno, 1' amino siccome fanno dell' altre donne : la soperchia copia
che le mogli fanno di se a' loro mariti, e cagion di tostano rincrescimento
quando esse pur nel principio sommamente piacessero . . ." {Fiammetta
ed. cit., pp. 69-70),

Wi] THE MEETING WITH FIAMMETTA 35

to this question it will be necessary to establish the
chronological limits and divisions of this love affair, and
this is the most difficult question in all the difficult history

Ithe youth of Boccaccio.
A^e may find, as it happens, two dates to begin with in
: Amorosa Visione. They have not escaped Crescini,1
o, founding himself on them, has concluded, though not
too certainly, that between the day of innamoramento and
that of possesso completo 159 days passed. He arrives at
this tentative conclusion in the following manner. In
chapter xliv. of the Amorosa Visione Boccaccio tells us
that when he became enamoured of Fiammetta, at first he
marvelled greatly, as though something incredible had
befallen him. Then he began to make fun of himself,
" farsi beffa," for having thought of a lady so far above
him. But at last, when

" Quattro via sei volte il sole
Con 1' orizzonte il ciel congiunto aveva . . ."

It appeared that his courting pleased his lady, and he
seemed to understand from her that there was no distance
I however great, between lover and beloved, that love could
not annihilate. But, said she, one ought to serve her only,
and not to run after other ladies.

Crescini interprets this to mean that twenty-four days
after Boccaccio first saw Fiammetta, she gave him reason
to hope. And he arrives at this conclusion because he
considers that the sun is in conjunction with the horizon
only once a day, whereas it might seem to be so twice a
day, at sunrise as at sunset. The other 135 days of
Crescini's chronology come from the following verses of
chapter xlvi. of the Amorosa Visione, in which Boccaccio
tells us that he was able to possess Maria after

" Cinque fiate tre via nove giorni
Sotto la dolce signoria di questa
Trovato m' era in diversi soggiorni."

1 Crescini, op. cit.y pp. 127 and 130, note 2.

GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

Thus, says Crescini, we have twenty-four days from the
first meeting to the acceptance of his court, and 135 days
thenceforward to the possession, that is 159 days.1

Delia Torre,2 however, will have none of this reckoning,
and seems to have proved that it is indeed inexact. To
begin with, according to the Ptolemaic system, the sun
moved round the earth and touched it as it were not only
at its rising but also at its setting, so that the twenty-four
days become twelve. This, however, is but a small matter,
merely reducing the 159 days to 147. Crescini's chief
error, according to Delia Torre, is that he has added the
first period of twelve (or twenty-four) days to the second
°f J35 — making them immediately consecutive. Let us
examine this matter somewhat closely.

In the Ameto Boccaccio tells us that the happy night
which came at the end of the 135 days, the night in which
he possessed Fiammetta, fell " temperante Apollo i veleni
freddi di Scorpione." Now at what time precisely is the
sun in the sign of the Scorpion? Andalo3 tells us that
at the end of the 20th October the sun is three and a
half gradi in Scorpio, and that by the 15th November it is
already entering Sagittarius. The sun then entered Scorpio
on the 17th October and left it on the 14th November.4
Somewhere between those two dates the loves of Giovanni
and Fiammetta were consummated.

Boccaccio tells us, if we interpret him aright, that twelve
days after his innamoramento his lady showed him that she

1 Crescini, op. cit.

2 Della Torre, op. cit., p. 192 et seq.

3 In his Tabula ad situandos tt concordandos metises cum signis in dorso
astrolabii in Atti della soc. Ligure di Stor. Pat. (1892), Vol. XXV, p. 59.

4 Crescini thinks {op. cit.) that Boccaccio first saw Fiammetta on nth
April, 1338. Supposing, then, the date most favourable to him, to wit,
that Boccaccio possessed Fiammetta in the night of 17-18 October: 135
days before that was 3rd June, and twenty-four before that was 10th May
(twelve days before was 22nd May), not nth April. Suppose we take our
own date, 30th March, we are in worse case still. It seems then certain that
between these two periods of 12 and 135 days there was an interval. To
decide on its length is the difficulty.

BOCCACCIO AND MAINARDI CAVALACANT1

By the Dutch engraver called " The Master of the Subjects in the Boccaccio."
" De Casil'us I'irorum." (Strashog, 14.7b.)

I33i] THE MEETING WITH FIAMMETTA 37

was pleased by his love. He then passes on to describe
the long and faithful service he gave her : —

" Lungamente seguendo sua pietate
Ora in avversi ed ora in graziosi
Casi reggendo la mia voluntate," 1

and so on. Then he says : —

" Traendomi piu la e con sommesso
Parlar le chiesi, che al mio dolore
Fine ponesse, qual doveva ad esso,
Ognor servando quel debito onore
Che si conviene a' suoi costumi adorni,
Di gentilezza pieni e di valore," 2

and at last adds the lines already quoted,

" Cinque fiate tre via nove giorni
Sotto la dolce signoria di questa
Trovato m' era in diversi soggiorni " ;
when

" nella braccia la Donna pietosa
Istupefatto gli parea tenere."

Taken thus we may divide the story of his love for Fiam-
metta into three periods. The first of these ends twelve
days after the first meeting, and is the period of uncertainty.
The second period is that in which he is accepted as courtier,
as it were, on his trial. The third begins when his lady,
moved by long service and repeated proofs of his devotions,
returns his love; it is the period of "dolce signoria" and
lasts one hundred and thirty-five days, at the end of which
she gives herself to him.3

Of these periods we know only the length, then, of the
first and the last. The first began on the 30th March and
lasted till the 12th April, 1331, when the second began, to
last how long ? Well, at least two months, it seems,4 per-

1 Amortsa Visions, cap. xlv.

2 Ibid., cap. xlvi.

3 Cf. Filocolo, ed. cit., II, pp. 261-2.

4 Cf. supra, p. 36, n. 4.

GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [*»«

haps three. In that case all three periods belong to the
same year. If this be not so, the second period was of
longer duration than three months, perhaps much longer.
Boccaccio himself tells us that it was " non senza molto
afTanno lunga stagione."1 Now it seems reasonable to
suppose that even so eager a lover as Boccaccio cannot
call three months " lunga stagione," though he were dying
for her and each minute was an eternity. He can scarcely
have hoped to seduce a woman of his own class in less
time. Common sense, then, is on our side when remind-
ing ourselves that Maria d'Aquino was of the noblest
family, married, too, to a husband who loved her, and
generally courted by all the golden youth of Naples —
while Giovanni was the son of a merchant — we insist that
he cannot mean a paltry three months when he speaks of
a long time.2 But if the second period lasted more than
three months, and so does not belong to the year 1 331, to
what year or years does it belong ?

Delia Torre seems to have found a clue in the following
sonnet, whose authenticity, though doubted by Crescini,3
he insists upon : —

" Se to potessi creder che in cinqif anni
Ch' egli e che vostro fui, tanto caluto
Di me vi fosse, che aver saputo
II nome mio voleste, de' miei danni
Per ristorato avermi, de' miei affanni
Potrei forse sperare ancora aiuto,
Ne mi parrebbe il tempo aver perduto
A condolermi de' miei stessi inganni. . . ."*

which we may explain as " O my lady, I shall be the
happiest of mortals if in the five years that I shall pay

1 Filocolo, ed. cit.> II, p. 248.

2 Besides, all the romances are against it. How long did Lancelot serve
for Guinivere ? And he was the best knight that there was in the whole world.

3 Crescini, op. cit., p. 185.

4 Sonnet lxxxvi. in edition Moutier (Opere Volgari di G. B.), Vol. XVI
(Firenze, 1834).

!33i] THE MEETING WITH FIAMMETTA 39

you court, I should break through your indifference. . . ."
Five years brings us from 30th March, 1 331, to 1336.

Now let us see whither the other facts we have will
lead us.

In 1339 Boccaccio and Fiammetta had parted,1 Boc-
caccio having been " betrayed " by her, as he tells us in
Sonnets iv. and xxxiii.,2 during the bathing season at Baia
— the bathing season then of 1338 — whither she had for-
bidden him to accompany her. But we know from Son-
nets xlvii. and xlviii. that the end of the second period
and the beginning of the third took place during the
bathing season, and that there was also a season in which
he accompanied her to Baia as her acknowledged lover.3
There must, then, have been three seasons before April,
1339, and these three years lead us again to the year

1336.

So we believe that the first period "of uncertainty"
in his love began on 30th March and ended on 12th
April, 1 33 1 ; that the second period "of service" began
on 1 2th April, 1331, and ended between 3rd June and

1 On 3rd April, 1339, Boccaccio writes to Carlo Duca di Durazzo that he
cannot finish the poem he had asked for because his heart is killed by a love
betrayed. Here is the letter, or part of it : " Crepor celsitudinis Epiri princi-
pals, ac Procerum Italise claritas singularis, cui nisi fallor, a Superis fortuna
candidior, reservatur ut vestra novit Serenitas, et pelignensis Ovidii reve-
renda testatur auctoritas :

1 Carmina proveniunt animo deducta sereno.'
Sed saevientis Rhamnusiae causa, ac atrocitatis cupidinis importunae :
' Nubila sunt sibitis tempora nostra malis.'

prout parvus et exoticus sermo, caliopeo moderamine constitutus vestrae
magnificentice declarabit inferius ; verum tamen non ad plenum ; quia si
plene anxietates meas vellem ostendere nee sufneeret calamus, et multitudo
fastidiret animum intuentis ; qui etiam me vivum respiciens ulterius miraretur,
quam si Cese Erigonis Cristibiae, vel Medeae inspiceret actiones. Propter
quod si tantae dominationis mandata, ad plenum inclyte Princeps, non per-
traho, in excutationem animi anxiantis fata miserrima se ostendant. ..."
Cf. Corazzini, op. cit., pp. 439-40.

2 Sonnet xxxiii. : —

" E che io vadia la mi e interdetto
Da lei, che puo di me quel che le piace."

3 Cf. Della Torre, op. cit., p. 207.

40 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO ['33<

2nd July, 1336, when the third period began, ending
three years later. This third period is divided, as we have
seen, into three parts, and comprises three bathing seasons.
The first of these falls between 3rd June — 2nd July, 1336,
and the 17th October to 15th November, i.e. 135 days ; an
act of audacity on Giovanni's part, as we shall see, giving
him possession of Fiammetta. The second is a period in
which their love had become calmer : it fills the season of
1337 in which he was her cavaliere servente. The third
falls in 1338, when, probably on account of the suspicions
aroused by their intimacy, Fiammetta forbade him to
accompany her to Baia, where in his absence she " be-
trayed " him.

Having thus found a chronology of Boccaccio's love-
story, we must consider more particularly his life during
its three periods.

CHAPTER IV

^3S^-^S4o

THE YEARS OF COURTSHIP — THE REWARD — THE
BETRAYAL— THE RETURN TO FLORENCE

OF the first period of Giovanni's love-story, the
period of uncertainty which lasted but twelve
days, we know almost nothing, save that he
was used to remind himself very often of his
unworthiness, and to tell himself that he was only the son
of a merchant, while Fiammetta, it was said, was the
daughter of a king, and at any rate belonged to one of
the richest and most powerful families in the Kingdom.
That she was married does not seem to have distressed
him or appeared as an obstacle at all, for the court was
corrupt;1 but he seems to have been disturbed by the
knowledge that she was surrounded by a hundred adorers
richer, nobler, and with better opportunities than himself.
And so he seems to have come to the conclusion that
there was nothing to be done but to make fun of himself
for having entertained a thought of her. It was appar-
ently in these states of mind that he passed the days
from Holy Saturday to 12th April, 1331, when he found
suddenly to his surprise that she was content he should
love her if he would.

What happened is described in the forty-fourth chapter
of the Amorosa Visione. The twelve days were passed,

1 And such was the fashion.
41

42 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [w-

he tells us in this allegory, when he heard a voice like
a terrible thunder cry to him : —

" O tu . . . che nel chiaro giorno
Del dolce lume della luce mia,
Che a te vago si raggia d' intorno,
Non ischernir con gabbo mia balia
Ne dubitar pero per mia grandezza,
La quale umil, quando vorrai, ti fia,
Onora con amor la mia bellezza,
Ne d' alcun' altra piu non ti curare,
Se tu non vo' provar mia rigidezza."

How can we interpret this? It seems that there was
evidently an occasion in which Fiammetta gave him to
understand that she was not averse from his love. What
was this occasion? Della Torre1 — certainly the most
subtle and curious of his interpreters — thinks he has found
it : that he can identify it with that in which Fiammetta
bade him write the Filocolo.

In the prologue to that romance Boccaccio tells us that
after leaving the temple of S. Lorenzo with full heart,
and having sighed many days, he found himself by chance —
he does not remember how — with some companions "in un
santo tempio del Principe de' celestiali uccelli nominato M :
that is to say, as Casetti interprets it, in the convent of
S. Arcangelo a Baiano, where Fiammetta had been. I have
said that it was quite usual for nuns to receive visitors,
both men and women, from the outside ; the Fiammetta1
itself confirms it if need be. The convents were in some
sort fashionable resorts where one went to spend an hour
in talk. On some such occasion Boccaccio went to
S. Arcangelo with a friend, and finding Fiammetta there,
probably told her stories from the French romances "del
valoroso giovane Florio figliuolo di Felice grandissimo Re
di Spagna," or of Lancelot and Guinivere, " con amorose
parole," stuffed with piteous words. When he had

1 Della Torre, op. cit., p. 213.

2 Fiammetta, ed. at., pp. 63-4.

SAPOR MOUNTING OVER THE PROSTRATE VALERIAN

By the Dutch engraver called " The Master of the Subjects in the Boccaccio."
" De Casibus Vtrorum" (Strasburg, 1476)

i34o] YEARS OF COURTSHIP 43

finished, she, altogether charmed, turned to the young
poet and bade him write such a romance as that — for her
— " a little book in which the beginning of love, the court-
ship, and the fortune of the two lovers even to their
death shall be told." Well, what could he do but obey
gladly ? " Hearing the sweetness of the words which
came from that gracious mouth," he tells us, "and re-
membering that never once till this day had that noble
lady asked anything of me, I took her prayer for a com-
mand, and saw therein hope for my desires";1 so he
answered that he would do his best to please her. She
thanked him, and Boccaccio, " costretto piu da ragione
che da volonta," went home and began at once to compose
his romance.2 So ends the first period of his love-story,
and the second, the period of courtship, begins.

The first result of this interview and of the hope and
fear it gave him — for whatever may have been the case
with Fiammetta now and later, Giovanni was genuinely in
love — was that he wandered away " dall' usato cammino "
from the highway that had brought him so far and
abandoned " le imprese cose," things already begun.3

1 I give the Italian, my translation being somewhat free : — " Un piccolo
libretto, volgarmente parlando, nel quale il nascimento, lo innamoramento,
e gli accidenti delli detti due infino alia lor fine interamente si contenga . . .
Io sentendo la dolcezza delle parole procedenti dalla graziosa bocca e pen-
sando che mai, cioe infino a questo giorno, di niuna cosa era stato dalla nobil
donna pregalo, il sue prego in luogo di comandamento mi reputai, prendendo per
quello migliore speranza nel futuro de miei disii."

2 In the Amorosa Visione we learn that she told him no longer to make fun
of himself and to think no more of the social difference between them. In
the Filocolo he tells us that he first began to hope after this interview. No
doubt she wished to play with him as with the rest. Certainly he was not
easy in his mind. " Quelle parole piu paura d' inganno che speranza di
futuro frutto mi porsero," he tells us in the Filocolo, ed. cil., II. , p. 248.
Then come the words I for one find so suspicious concerning his birth. In
order, he says, to bring her nearer to him, he thinks of his birth which,
different in social position as they are, was not unlike hers in its romance. His
mother was noble, he tells her, and he feels this nobility in his heart. " Ma
la nobilita del mio cuore tratta non dal pastor padre, ma dalla reale madre mi
porse ardire e dissi : ' Seguirolla e provero se vera sara nell' effetto come nel
parlar si mostra volonterosa."

3 Filocolo , ed. cit.y II, 86.

44 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [i33«-

And if we ask ourselves what was this highway, we may
answer his way of life ; and the things already begun —
his study of the Canon Law. About this time, then, he
began to go more to court, to enter eagerly into the
joy of Neapolitan life in search of Fiammetta. At the
same time his studies suffered — he neglected them to
the dismay, as we shall see, not only of his father, but
of his friends.

Something has already been said of the life at the
court of King Robert. The very soul of it was the three
ladies : Agnes de Perigord, wife of Jean D'Anjou, brother
of King Robert ; Marie de Valois, wife of Charles, Duke
of Calabria, son of the king ; and Catherine de Courteney,
who at twelve years of age had married Philip of Taranto,
another of the King's brothers.1 The luxury in the city
was by far the greatest to be found in Italy. The
merchants of Florence, Lucca, Venice, and Genoa fur-
nished to the court " scarlatti di Gant," " sciamiti, panni
ricamati ad uso orientale," u oggetti d' oro ed argento," and
" gemmas et lapides pretiosas ad camere regie usum."
Boccaccio himself describes Naples : " Citta, oltre a tutte
1' altre italiche, di lietissime feste abbondevole, non sola-
mente rallegra i suoi cittadini o con le nozze o con li
bagni o con li marini liti, ma, copiosa di molti giuochi,
sovente or con uno, or con un altro letifica la sua gente :
ma tra Y altre cose, nelle quali essa appare splendidissima,
e nel sovente armeggiare."2 Or again of the spring there:
" I giovani, quando sopra i correnti cavalli con le fiere armi
giostravano, e quando circondati da' sonanti sonagli
armeggiavano, quando con ammaestrata mano lieti mostra-
vano come gli arditi cavalli con ispumante freno si deb-

1 See on this subject De Blasiis, Le Case de' Principi Angicmi in Arch.
St. per le prov. nap., Ann. XII, pp. 311-12.

2 Fiammetta, ed. cit., p. 84. I translate : " A city more addicted to joyous
festivals than any other in Italy, her citizens were not only entertained with
marriages, or country amusements, or with boat-races, but abounding in
perpetual festivities she diverted her inhabitants now with one thing, now with
another ; among others she shone supreme in the frequent tournaments."

<34°] YEARS OF COURTSHIP 45

bano reggere. Le giovani donne di queste cose vaghe,
inghirlandate di nuove frondi, lieti sguardi porgevano ai
loro amanti, ora dall' alte finestre ed ora dalle basse porte;
e quale con nuovo dono, e quale con sembiante, e quale con
parole confortava il suo del suo amore."1

If he thus spent his time in play and love there can
have been little enough left, when the Filocolo was laid
aside, for study. We find his father complaining of his
slackness. Old Boccaccio had already been grievously
disappointed when Giovanni abandoned trade, and now
that he threw up or was not eager to pursue his law
studies, he was both distressed and angry ; nor were
Giovanni's friends more content. All the Florentines at
Naples, he tells us, seemed to speak with his father's
voice. It was well to be in love, they told him, even
better to write poetry, but to ruin oneself for love, Monna
mia ! what madness, and then poetry never made any one
rich.2

So spoke and thought the practical Tuscan soul, and
the English have but echoed it for centuries. However,
Giovanni only immersed himself more in Ovid, and doubt-
less the throb of hexameter and pentameter silenced the
prose of the merchants. Later, about 1334, he began to
read Petrarch ;3 their personal friendship, however, did

1 Fiammetta, ed. cit., pp. 119-20. "The youths when jousting with potent
weapons on galloping horses or to the sound of clashing bells in miniature
warfare, showed joyously how with a light hand on the foam-covered bridle
fiery horses were to be managed. The young women delighting in these
things, garlanded with spring flowers, either from high windows or from
the doors below, glanced gaily at their lovers ; one with a new gift, another
with tender looks, yet another with soft words assured her servant of her
love."

2 Cf. De Genealogiis, XIV, 4, and XV, 10. Giovanni's reply will be
found in the Filocolo, ed. cit., II, pp. 84-6, "Chi mosse Vergilio? Chi
Ovidio? Chi gli altri poeti a lasciare di loro eterna fama ne' santi versi,
li quali mai ai nostri orecchi pervenuti non sarieno se costui non fosse?" and
so forth.

3 So it seems we ought to understand his letter to Franceschino da Bros-
sano, where he says : " Et ego quadraginta annis, vel amplius suis (that is, of
Petrarch) fui" (Corazzini, op. cit., p. 382).

46 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [iS3H

not begin till much later, in 1350.1 His reading then, like
his love, inspired him to write verses, and as he tells
us, when the days of uncertainty were over, " Under the
new lordship of love I desired to know what power
splendid words had to move human hearts."2 And
these ornate parole were all in honour of his love. How
he praises her !

" Ed io presumo in versi diseguali
Di disegnarle in canto senza suono?
Vedete se son folli i pensier miei ! "3

Presumptuous or no, he tells us very eloquently and
sweetly that her teeth were candid Eastern pearls, her
lips, living rubies clear and red, her cheeks, roses mixed
with lilies, her hair, all gold like an aureole about her

happy face : —

" E 1' altre parti tutte si confanno
Alle predette in proporzione eguale
Di costei ch' i ver angioli simiglia."4

And then her eyes, it is always them he praises best : —

" L' angelico leggiadro e dolce riso
Nel qual quando scintillan quelle stelle
Che la luce del ciel fanno minore
Par s' apra '1 cielo e rida il mundo tutto." 5

But he speaks of her beauty in a thousand verses in a
thousand places, in many disguises.

This burning and eager love was, however, hindered
in one thing — he had the greatest difficulty in seeing

Fiammetta : —

" Qualor mi mena Amor dov' io vi veggia
Ch' assai di rado avvien, si cara sete. . . ."6

For at this time certainly Fiammetta does not seem to have

1 " Sono quarant' anni," he writes in 1374, " e piu che io amo ed onoro il
Petrarca"; cf. Dobelli and Manicardi and Massera : Introduzione
al testo critico del " Canzoniere" del Boccaccio (Castel Fiorentino, 1901),
pp. 62-4. 2 Filocolo, ed. cit., II, p. 248.

3 Rime (Moutier), XVIII. 4 Ibid, III.

5 Ibid, LXXXIX. 6 Ibid, LXXXIII.

i34o] YEARS OF COURTSHIP 47

considered his love of any importance to her, so that she
gave him very few opportunities of seeing her, and then
in everything he had to be careful not to rouse her
husband's suspicions.1 Sometimes, too, she went far away
into the country to some property of her family, whither
he could not follow, and always every year to Baia for
the season ; so that we find him writing : —

"... colla bellezza sua mi spoglia
Ogn' anno nella piu lieta stagione
Di quella donna ch' e sol mio desire ;
A se la chiama, ed io, contra mia voglia
Rimango senza il cuore, in gran quistione,
Qual men dorriemi il vivere o '1 morire."2

He managed to see her, however, sometimes in church,
or at her window, or in the gardens, and once he followed
her to Baia, but only to see her " a long way off." Yet,
as he reminds himself, he always had her, a vision in

his heart : —

" Onde contra mia voglia, s' io non voglio
Lei riguardando, perder di vederla,
In altra parte mi convien voltare.
Oh grieve caso ! ond' io forte mi doglio ;
Colei qui cerco di poter vederla
Sempre non posso poi lei riguardare."3

Then there were moments of wild hope, till the in-
difference of Fiammetta put it out ; and he would resolve
to break the " love chains," but it was useless. He humili-
ated himself, and at last came to despair. It was in some
such moment, during her absence, we may think, that
he began the Filostrato? and at length finally abandoned
those studies which in some sort his love had killed.

In this feverish state of mind, of soul, sometimes hope-
ful, sometimes in despair, Boccaccio passed the next five
years of his life, from the spring of 133 1 to the spring of

1 Fiammetta, ed. cit., p. 28. 2 Rime (Moutier), XXXIV.

3 Ibid., XXV.

4 Cf- Crescini, op. cit., pp. 186-208 ; Della Torre, op. cit., p. 245.

48 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1331-

1336. It was during this time, in 13351 it seems, that
with his father's unwilling permission he discontinued the
law studies he had begun in 1329, but had for long
neglected, and gave himself up to literature, " without a
master," but not without a counsellor — his old companion
in the study of astronomy, Calmeta. Other friends, too,
were able to assist him, among them Giovanni Barrili,
the jurisconsult, a man of fine culture, later Seneschal of
King Robert for the kingdom of Provence,2 and Paolo da
Perugia, King Robert's learned librarian, elected to that
office in 1332. Him Boccaccio held in the highest venera-
tion, and no doubt Paolo was very useful to him.3

We know nothing of his first literary studies, but we
may be sure he continued to read Ovid, and now read or
re-read Virgil — these if only for the study of versification.
As for prose, it is possible that he now read the Meta-
morphoses of Apuleius, which he certainly knew and ad-
mired. However that may be, his work at this time
cannot have been very severe or serious, for his mind was
full of uneasiness about Fiammetta, and this excitement
no doubt increased in the early summer of 1336, when she
grew " kinder," and deigned even to encourage him ; he
met her "con humil voce e con atti piacenti."4

What was the real cause of this "kindness" it seems

1 See Della Torre, op. cit. , pp. 259 and 260. Cf. also De Genealogiis,
Lib. XV, cap. x. (Hecker, Boccaccio-Funde, Braunschweig, 1902, p. 289).
"Attamen jam fere maturus etate et mei juris factus, nemine impellente,
nemine docente, imo obsistente patre et studium tale damnante, quod modi-
cum novi poetice, sua sponte sumpsit ingenium eamque summa aviditate
secutus sum, et, precipua cum delectatione, auctorum eiusdem libros vidi
legique, et, uti potui, intelligere conatus sum." So he seems to have won
over his father by telling him he was of an age to decide for himself.

2 See Zenati, Dante e Firenze (Firenze, 1903), p. 251, note 1, and the
works there cited. Faraglia, Barbato di Sulmona e gli uomini di lettere
della corte di Roberto cf Angib in Arch. St. It., Ser. V, Vol. Ill, p. 343.
Idem : I. due amici del Petrarca, Giovanni Barrili e Barbato di Sulmona in
/ miei studi storici delle cose abruzzesi (Rocca Carabba, 1893), anc* Della
Torre, op. cit., p. 261 et seq.

3 Cf. Zenati, op. cit., p. 275, note 1.

• 4 See Manicardi-Massera, op. cit., p. 71, note 1, and Della Torre,
op. cit., p. 262.

MAXLIUS THROWN' INTO THE TIBER
By the Dutch engraver called" The Master of the Subjects in the Boccaccio.
" De Casibus Virormm" ( Strasburg, 1476.)

i34o] YEARS OF COURTSHIP 49

impossible we should ever know. Perhaps at the moment
Fiammetta lacked a lover, though that is hard measure
for her. Some cause there must have been, for a woman
does not surely let a lover sigh for five years unheard, and
then for no reason at all suddenly requite him. Certainly
Giovanni had made many beautiful verses for her, but
when did that touch a woman's heart? Yet, be the cause
what it may, in the summer of 1336 she would suddenly
grow pale when he passed her by, and then as suddenly
turn her " starry eyes " on him languidly, voluptuously : —

" Amor, se questa donna non s' infinge
La mia speranza al suo termine viene. . . ."

All this seems to have come to pass at Baia, perhaps, as
Boccaccio seems himself to suggest, one day in the woods
of Monte Miseno whither they were gone with a gay
company holding festa there in the golden spring weather.1
And there were other days too : long delicious noons in the
woods, still evenings by the seashore, where, though not
alone, he might talk freely to her, by chance or strategy, or
in a low voice whisper his latest verses beating with her
heart. Giovanni, we may be sure, was no mean strategist ;
he was capable of playing his part in the game of hide-
and-seek with the world.2 He seems eagerly to have

1 Boccaccio praises especially Monte Miseno in Sonnet xlviii. : —

" Ben lo so io, che in te ogni mia noia
Lasciai, e femmi d' allegrezza pieno
Colui ch' e sire e re d' ogni mia gloria " ;

and even more especially in Sonnet xlvii. , where he speaks of it : —

" Nelle quai si benigno Amor trovai
Che retrigerio diede a' miei ardori
E ad ogni mia noia pose freno."

But see also Axtona Traversi, Delia realta dell' amove di Boccaccio in Pro-
pugiiatore (1883-4), Vols. XVI and XVII, and in Rivista Europea (1882-3),
Vols. XXIX and XXXI.

2 As to his strategy, hear him in the Fiammetta-. " Quante volte gia in
mia presenza e de' miei piu cari, caldo di festa e di cibi e di amore, fignendo
Fiammetta e Panfilo essere stati greci, narro egli come io di lui, ed esso di
me, primamente stati eravamo presi, con quanti accidenti poi n' erano segui-
tati, alii luoghi ed alle persone pertinenti alia novella dando convenevoli
nomi ! Certo io ne risi piii volte, e non meno della sua sagacita che della

50 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1331-

sought the friendship of her husband and of her relations,
and Fiammetta herself tells us in the romance that bears
her name that filled " non solamente dello amoroso ardore,
ma ancora di cautela perfetta il vidi pieno ; il che som-
mamente mi fu a grado. Esso, con intera considerazione,
vago di servare il mio onore e adempiere, quando i luoghi
e li tempi il concedessero, li suoi desii credo non senza
gravissima pena, usando molte arti, s' ingegno d' aver la
familiarita di qualunque mi era parente, ed ultimamente
del mio marito : la quale non solamente ebbe, ma ancora
con tanta grazia la possedette, che a niuno niuna cosa era
a grado, se non tanto quanto con lui la comunicava. . . .'n
Well, the one hundred and thirty-five days had begun.2
There were difficulties still to be overcome, however, before
he won that for which, as he says, he had always begged.
Fiammetta, like a very woman, denied it him over and
over again, though very willingly she would have given
it to him. Expert as he had become in a woman's heart
— in this woman's heart at least — Giovanni guessed all
this and knew besides that she could not give him what
he desired unless he took it with a show at least of violence.
Such, even to-day, are Italian manners.3 He awaited the
opportunity. It seems to have come during the absence
of the husband in Capua.4 Screwing his courage to the

semplicita delli ascoltanti ; e talvolta fu che io temetti, che troppo caldo non
trasportasse la lingua disavvendutamente dove essa andare non doveva;
ma egli, piu savio che io non pensava, astutissimamente si guardava dal falso
latino. . . ." Maria was doubtless a good scholar, already very proficient.

1 Fiammetta, ed. cit., p. 37 et sea. ; cf. Crkscini, op. cit., pp. 151-2. I
translate : " filled not only with amorous ardour, but also with infinite
caution, which pleased me mightily, desirous above all things to shield my
honour and yet to attain whenever possible his desire, not, I think, with-
out much trouble, he used every art and studied how to gain the friend-
ship, first of any who were related to me, and then of my husband : in
this he was so successful that he entirely won their good graces, and nothing
pleased them but what was shared by him."

2 See supra, p. 40.

3 On this point see an incident related by Lina Duff Gordon in her
charming Home Life in Italy (Methuen, 1908), p. 157.

4 See Ameto, ed. cit., p. 224 et sea. ; cf. Crescini, op. cit., pp. 8o-2,
and Della Torre, op. cit., p. 270.

ho] THE REWARD 51

:icking-point, he resolved to go to her chamber, and to

lis end persuaded or bribed her maid to help him.1

It was in the early days of November probably, days so

snsive in that beautiful southern country, that it befell

/en as he had planned. Led by the maid into Fiammetta's

lamber, he hid himself behind the curtains of the great

arital bed. Presently she came in with the maid, who

ldressed her and put her to bed, and left her, half

ughing, half in tears. Again he waited, and when at

st, desperate with anxiety and hope, he dared to come

t of his hiding, she was sleeping as quietly as a child.

>r a time he looked at her, then trembling and scarce

ring to breathe the while, he crept into the great bed

side her, in verity as though he were her newly wedded

sband. Then softly he kissed her, sleeping still, and

iwing aside the curtain that hid the light,2 discovered

his amorous eyes a il delicato petto, e con desiderosa

no toccava le ritonde mammelle, bacciandola molte

te," and already held her in his arms when she

ikened. She opened her mouth to cry for help, he

;ed it with kisses ; she strove to get out of bed, but he

i her firm, bidding her have no fear. She was defeated,

ourse, but that her yielding might not seem too easy

reproached him3 in a trembling voice — trembling with

and pleasure — for the violence with which he had

en what she had always denied him ; adding that all

quite useless as she did not wish it.

hen Giovanni, putting all to the proof, drew a dagger

?or all these particulars and the following see Filocolo, ed. cit., II,

68-9, 174, 178-9. Without doubt these passages are biographical.

rescini, op. cit., p. 82, and Della Torre, p. 270 et seq.

riammetta was afraid of the dark since her childhood ; she always had

t in her room. Cf. Fiammetta, ed. cit., p. 55.

1 Col tuo ardito ingegno, me presa nella tacita notte secura dormendo

prima nelle braccia m' avesti e quasi la mia pudicizia violata, che io
ial sonno interamente sviluppata. E che doveva io fare, questo
ido ? doveva io gridare, e col mio grido a me infamia perpetua, ed a
juale io piu che me medesima amava, morte cercare ? — Fiammetta,

, p. 67. Not so argued " Lucrece of Rome toun."

52 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [133*

from his belt, and retiring to a corner of the bed, in a low
and distressed voice said — we find the words in the Ametc
— " I come not, O lady, to defile the chastity of thy bed
but as an ardent lover to obtain relief for my burning
desires ; thou alone canst assuage them, or tell me tc
die: surely I will only leave thee satisfied or dead, not that
I seek to gratify my passion by violence or to compel any
to raise cruel hands against me ; but if thou art deaf tc
my entreaties with my dagger I shall pierce my heart."

To kill himself— there. O no, Giovanni ! Certainly she
did not want that. What then ? Well, not a dead man
in her room, at any rate, for all the world to talk about.1
Yes, she was paid in her own coin. She was conquered :
her silence gave consent. " O no, Giovanni ! "

" Donna mia," he whispered, " I came thus because it
was pleasing to the gods. . . "2

" Thou lovest me so ? " she answered. " And when then,
and how, and why . . . and why ? " So he told her all
over again from the beginning, and she, yielding little by
little, seemed doubtful even yet. Then he asked again.
" Che faro O Donna ? Passera il freddo ferro il solecito
petto o lieto sara dal tuo riscaldato ? " At this renewed
menace the poor lady, without more ado, reached for the
iron and flung it away. Then he, putting his arms about
her and kissing her furiously, whispered : " Lady, the gods,,
my passion, and thy beauty, have wounded my soul, and
thus as was already told thee in dreams I shall for ever be
thine : I do not think I need implore thee to be mine, but
if necessary I pray thee now once for all. . . ."

That night was but the first of a long series, as we may
suppose. " Oh," says Fiammetta, in the romance which

1 It was a cowardly threat from our point of view, but probably not an
idle one. Men go to bed in Sicily and die of love in the night. And then,
too, this violence was part of the etiquette, and in some sort is so still, in
Southern Italy, at any rate.

2 Filocolo, ed. cit., II, p. 180. In the Amcto, ed. cit., p. 225, he says it
was Hecate who brought him in.

i34o] THE REWARD 53

bears her name, " how he loved my room and with what joy
it saw him arrive. He held it in greater reverence than
any church (temple). Ah me, what pleasant kisses ! What
loving embraces ! How many nights passed as though
they had been bright days in sweet converse without sleep !
How many delights, dear to every lover, have we enjoyed
:here in those happy days."1

So autumn passed into winter and the long nights grew
short, and all the world was at the spring ; and for them
:oo it was the golden age — so long ago. Well, do we not
fcnow how they spent their lives? It was ever Giovanni's
>vay to kiss and tell. Has he not spoken of the festas and
:he jousts, and the rare encounters that in Naples greeted
Primavera ?2 We see him with Fiammetta at the Courts of
Love, in the deep shade of the gardens, in the joyful fields,3
)n the seashore at Baia,4 and at the Bagno beside the lake
)f Avernus,5 while we may catch a glimpse of them too at
1 wedding feast.6 So passed what proved to be the one
lappy yean of their love, and perhaps the happiest of
aiovanni's life.

That year so full of wild joy soon passed away. With
he dawn of 1338 his troubles began. At first jealousy.
Hte found it waiting to torture him on returning from a
ourney we know not whither,7 in which he had encountered
langers by flood and field ; a winter journey then, doubt-
ess. He came home to find Fiammetta disdainful, angry,

1 Fiammetta^ ed. at., p. 39.

2 Cf. Fiammetta, ed. cit., pp. 84-8.

3 Filocolo, ed. cit., II, p. 27 et sea. ; cf. also Della Torre, St. del/a
iccademia Platonica di Fircnze (Firenze, 1902), p. 164 et sea. ; and Pio
<ajna, U Episodic delle Questioni a? amore nel ' ' Filocolo *' in Raccolta di studi
ritici per A. d' Ancona (Firenze, 1901).

4 Sonnet xxxii., Ri?ne, ed. cit.

5 Cf. Hortis, Accenni alle Scienze naturali nelle opere di G. B. (Trieste,
877), p. 49 et sea. ; and Percopo, / bagni di Pozzuoli in Arch. St. per le
rov. nap., XI, pp. 668, 703-4.

6 Fiammetta, pp. 77-80.

7 Cf. Crescini, op. cit., p. 182, note 1.

54 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO el-

even indifferent. All the annoyance of the road came back
to him threefold : — 1

"... non ch' alcun tormento

Mi desser tornand 'io, ma fur gioconde,

Tanta dolce speranza mi recava

Spronato dal desio di rivederti,

Qual ver me ti lasciai, Donna, pietosa.

Or, oltre, a quel che io, lasso ! stimava,

Trovo mi sdegni, e non so per quai merti ;

Per che piange nel cor 1' alma dogliosa,

E maledico i monti, 1' alpe e '1 mare,

Che mai mi ci lasciaron ritornare."2

Whose fault was it ? Perhaps there is not much need to
ask. Fiammetta was incapable of any stability in love,
and Giovanni could never help looking at " altre donne."3
As we have seen, Fiammetta was surrounded by admirers
who were not, be sure, more scrupulous than Boccaccio.
So that his suspicions were aroused, and he must have
found it difficult to obey her when she forbade him to
follow her to Baia in 1338. Perhaps he had compromised
her, and for that cause alone she had ceased to care for him
— it would perhaps be after her nature ; but however it
may have been, it was no marvel that he was jealous,
angry, and afraid.4

And his fears prophesied truly — he was betrayed. He
did not know it when she first returned to Naples after the
summer was gone. She took care of that,5 but she gave

1 Cf. Della Torre, op. cit. , p. 289.

2 Sonnet lix. , Rime, ed. cit.

3 See Madrigal ii. (Moutier) and Sonnet xxiv. (Moutier), where he excuses
himself. As for Fiammetta, we know her, and she says, in the Fiammetta,
"Quanti e quali giovani d' avere il mio amore tentassero, e i diversi
modi, e 1' inghirlandate porte dagli loro amori, le notturne risse e le diurne
prodezze per quelli operate." In the Filocolo he describes how in a vision
Florio is shown how strenuously he ought to defend his love from her ad-
mirers.

4 See Sonnet lxix., in which he says (but see the whole sonnet) : —

" Ed io lo so, e di quinci ho temenza,
Non con la donna mia si fatti sienvi,
Che '1 petto 1' aprano ed entrinsi in quello."

5 Filocolo, ed. cit., II, p. 70- 1 ; Crescini, op. cit., pp. 76-7: Della
Torre, op. cit., pp. 294-5.

ALLEGORY OF WEALTH AND POVERTY
From a miniature in the French version of the " De Casibus I 'irorum,'' made in 140Q
by Laurent le Fremierfait. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Mus. Rothschild Bequest.

MS. XII.)

wo] THE BETRAYAL 55

him excuses instead of kisses, which only roused his angry
jealousy the more. " II geloso," she told him, " ha 1' animo
pieno d' infinite sollecitudini, alle quali ne speranza ne altro
diletto puo porgere conforto o alleviare la sua pena. . . .
Egli vuole e s' ingegna di porre legge a' piedi e alle mani,
e a ogni altro atto della sua donna,"1 and so on and so
forth. These hypocritical and eloquent commonplaces did
not soothe him, but rather increased his anxiety. We
must remember that though Giovanni would gad after
other beauties, he loved Fiammetta then and always. It is
not surprising, then, that his jealousy became a wild anger.
" Nel cuore mi s'accese un' ira si ferocissima, che quasi con
lei non mi fece allora crucciare, ma pur mi ritenni."2 Little
by little suspicion grew to certainty ; he guessed he was
betrayed, he knew it, he suspected the very man, his sup-
planter, his friend ; and he sees him, as it were in a dream,
on the " montagne vicine a Pompeano," like a great mastiff
who devours the hen pheasant at a mouthful.3 What could
he do, what could he say ? " Let Thy name perish,
Baia. . . ."

" Perir possa il tuo nome, Baia, e il loco ;

Boschi selvaggi le tue piagge sieno,

E le tue fonti diventin veneno,

Ne vi si bagni alcun molto ne poco :

In pianto si converta ogni tuo gioco,

E suspetto diventi il tuo bel seno

A' naviganti ; il nuvolo e '1 sereno

In te riversin fumo solfo e fuoco ;

Che hai corrotto la piu casta mente

Che fosse in donna colla tua licenza,

Se il ver mi disser gli occhi non e guari.

1 I translate : "The jealous lover's soul is ever filled with infinite terrors
and his pangs are not to be alleviated by hope or by any other joy. He
insists on inventing and dictating laws for the feet and hands, and for every
act of his mistress." — Filocolo, ed. cit., II, p. 73.

2 Filocolo, ed. cit., II, p. 71. I translate: "My heart was filled with
such furious anger that I almost broke away from her, yet I restrained
myself."

3 Filocolo, ed. cit., II, pp. 25-6.

56 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1331-

La onde io sempre vivero dolente,
Come ingannato da folle credenza ;
Or fuss' io stato cieco non ha guari ! "x

After rage, humiliation. He tells himself that in spite of
all he will love her always, more and more, yes, more than
his own life or honour. He will persist, he will not be
easily beaten, he will regain her. And yet it is all quite
useless, as he knows.2 Was it not in this hour that he
wrote the following beautiful lines : —

" La lagrime e i sospiri e '1 non sperare,
A quella fine m' han si sbigottito
Ch' io me ne vo per via com' uom smarrito :
Non so che dire e molto men che fare.
E quando avvien che talor ragionare
Oda di me, che n'ho talvolta udito,
Del pallido colore, e del partito
Vigore, e del dolor che di fuor pare,
Una pieta di me stesso mi vene
Si grande, ch' io desio di dir piangendo
Che sia cagion di tanto mio martiro :
Ma poi, temendo non aggiugner pene
Alle mie noie, tanto mi difendo,
Ch' io passo in compagnia d' alcun sospiro." 3

But fate was not content, as he himself says,4 with this
single blow. Till now he had wanted for nothing ; he had
had a home of his own, and had been able to go to court
when, and as, he would, and to enter fully into the life of
the gay city. Now suddenly poverty stared him in the face.
His father, from whom all that was stable and good in his

1 Sonnet iv. ; cf. also Sonnet lv. "Che dolore intollerabile sostengo," he
writes in the Filocolo. See also Madrigal iii., and Della Torre, op. cit.,
pp. 297-9.

2 Cf. Ftlocolo, ed. cit., II, p. 262. "Come di altri molti, he says, " avea
fatto, cosi di lui feci gittandolo dal mio senno. Questa cosa fatta, la costui
letizia si rivolse in pianto. E, brevemente, egli in poco tempo di tanta pieta
il suo viso dipinse, che egli in compassione di se moveva i piu ignoti. Egli
mi si mostrava, e con preghi e con lagrime tanto umile quanto piu poteva,
la mia grazia ricercando. . . ."

3 Sonnet lxxxvii.

4 Filocolo, ed. cit., II, 26.

i34o] HIS RUIN 57

life hitherto had proceeded, was ruined.1 But even in his
fall he remembered his son, and though Giovanni was now
twenty-five years of age, he maintained him, at consider-
able inconvenience doubtless, from ist November, 1338, to
1st November, 1339, by buying for him the produce of a
podere near Capua, " i beni della chiesa di S. Lorenzo dell'
Arcivescovato di Capua," which cost him twenty-six
florins.2 Delia Torre thinks that the wretched youth was
compelled to visit the place (possibly this was his fateful
journey) and to deal with a fat tore di campagna and the
wily contadini of whom Alberti has so much to tell us a
century later. With them he would have to take account
of the grain, the grapes, the olives, the swine, and so forth,
while trying to write romances and to save his love from
utter disaster.

As though the ills he suffered were not enough, it was
at this time he lost a friend and protector from whom he
expected very much. Niccolo Acciaiuoli, whom he had
known since 133 1, left Naples on 10th October, 1338, and
two years later Boccaccio writes to him on his return from
the Morea : " Nicola, if any trust can be placed in the
miserable, I swear to you by my suffering soul that the
departure of Trojan ^Eneas was not a deeper sorrow to the
Carthaginian Dido than was yours to me : not without
reason, though you knew it not: nor did Penelope long
for the return of Ulysses more than I longed for
yours." 3

And then all his companions forsook him owing to his
change of fortune ; one by one they fell away. He who had

1 We know nothing of the cause of Boccaccino's ruin. It is interesting to
remember, however, that he was connected with the Bardi who in 1339 had,
with the Peruzzi, lent Edward III of England 1,075,000 florins. As we know,
this sum was never repaid, and the transaction ruined the lenders. Boccaccino
himself seems to have been already short of money in 1336, when he sold
Casa di Boccaccio.

2 The church is situated, according to Delia Torre, in the village of S.
Maria Maggiore. See Della Torre, op. cit., pp. 309-13.

3 Corazzini, op. cit., p. 17.

58 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1331-

consorted with nobles and loved a king's daughter was left
alone ; not in his own dwelling, but outside the city now,
" sub Monte Falerno apud busta Maronis," as he dates his
letters : close then to the tomb of Virgil. Was it now, at
the lowest ebb of his fortunes, in all this tempest of ill, that
he turned to the verse of the Mantuan who has healed so
many wounds that the Church may not touch ; and so,
dreaming beside his sepulchre at Posilippo, remembering
the wasted life, the irrecoverable years, made that vow
which posterity has so well remembered, sworn as it was
on Virgil's grave, to give himself to letters, to follow his
art for ever ?

Henceforth his life belongs to literature. " Every cloud,"
says the proverb, " has a silver lining," and the miseries of
youth, though not the least bitter, differ, in this at least,
from those of old age, that one has time to profit by them.
So it was with Giovanni. The tempest which had destroyed
so much that he valued most highly was in some sort his
salvation. To love is good, they had told him, to write

verses even better ; but to ruin oneself for love !

What madness ! Yet it was just that he had done, and
like many others who have practised his art, he found in
ruin the highway of the world.

Driven by poverty outside the city, deprived alike of its
pleasures and the excitement and distractions of his love,
he had nothing left but his art, and for the first time in his
life he seems to have set himself to study and to practise
it with all his might. Deserted by his companions, he
reminded himself that he was a poet and that solitude
was his friend. He seems to have read much, studying in
the shadow of Virgil's tomb the works of that poet1 and
the writings of the ever-delightful Apuleius, while in
the letter to Calmeta we find — and this is most interesting
in regard to his own work — that he was already reading

1 That Boccaccio considered Virgil in some sort a magician is certain.
Cf. Hortis, Studi, etc., pp. 394, 396-8.

i34o] THE RETURN TO FLORENCE 59

the Thebais of Statius.1 Helpers, too, of a sort he had,
among them Dionigi Roberti da Borgo Sansepolcro,2
who, as Delia Torre thinks, made him write to Petrarch, a
thing Boccaccio no doubt had long wished, but hesitated,
to do. The first extant communication between them,
however, dates from 1349.

In the midst of this resurrection of energy in which, as
we learn, he had already grown calm enough to see Fiam-
metta afar off without flinching and even with a sort of
pleasure, his father, widowed by the death of Margherita,
" full of years, deprived by death of his children," sum-
moned him home.3 When did Boccaccio obey this sum-
mons? That he was in Naples in 1340 is proved by the
letter "Sacro famis et angelice viro," dated "sub Monte
Falerno apud busta Maronis Virgilii, Julii Kal nil.," i.e.
28th June, and, as the contents show, of the year 1340.4
He was still there in October, for on 1st November the
renewal of the contract of the podere of S. Lorenzo fell
due, but by nth January, 1341, we know him to have
been in Florence.5 He left Naples, then, between 1st
November, 1340, and nth January, 1341,6 and as the
journey took eleven days or so he must have set out in

1 Not being able to understand it, he asks for an example with glosses.
Cf. Corazzini, op. cit., p. 465.

2 Cf. the letter to Niccolo Acciaiuoli, dated from Florence, August 23,
1341, where he speaks of "il reverendo mio padre e signore, Maestro Dionigi,"
Corazzini, op. cit., p. 18. Possibly Dionigi made him read Seneca. Cf.
Della Torre, op. cit., pp. 323-4.

3 Boccaccino had lost almost everything, including the dote of his wife.
Giovanni declares this was the justice of heaven upon him for the desertion
of his (Giovanni's) mother. Cf. Ameio, ed. cit., pp. 187-8. He never for-
gave his father for this. Yet, like a good son, he obeyed the summons, and
says later that ' ' we ought to learn to bear the yoke of our fathers, and should
honour with the greatest reverence their trembling old age." We believe
Margherita died in 1339. The last document we have which speaks of her
is, however, of 1337. When Francesco died we cannot say.

4 Cf. Della Torre, op. cit. , p. 339. This letter is, as I have already
said, considered apocryphal by many scholars, though not by Delia Torre.

5 Ibid., p. 343. See document there given, which equally proves that on
nth January, 1341, Boccaccio was already in Florence.

6 Fiammetta, ed. cit., p. 40, where he says Panfilo (himself) left Naples
"essendo il tempo per piove e per freddo noioso."

31-40

60 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1331-40

the end of the year. By so doing, as it happened, he just
missed seeing Petrarch, who, invited to his court by King
Robert, left Avignon on 16th February, 1 341, in the com-
pany of Azzo da Correggio, to reach Naples in March.1

So Giovanni came back into the delicate and strong
Florentine country, along the bad roads, through the short
days, the whole world lost in wind and rain, neither glad
nor sorry, but thoughtful, and, yes, homesick after all for
that ghost in his heart.

1 Delia Torre seems to have proved that Boccaccio left Naples in Decern
ber, 1340, and was in Florence early in the new year, 1341. For the most
part he is in agreement with Crescini and Landau. Cf. Crescini, op. cit.,
p. 86 et se</., and Landau, op. cit., 70 and 40 (Italian edition) also pp. 181-2.
Koerting, op. cit., p. 164, says 1339 or 1340.

CHAPTER V

BOCCACCIO'S EARLY WORKS— THE FILOCOLO— THE FILOS-
TRA TO— THE TESEIDE— THE AMETO— THE FIAMMETTA
—THE NINFALE FIESOLANO

1HAVE written at some length and in some detail
of the early years of Boccaccio and of the circum-
stances attending his love for Fiammetta, because
they decided the rest of his life, and are in many
ways by far the most important in his whole career. But
the ten years which follow his return to Florence are even
more uncertain and obscure that those which preceded
them, while we are without any of those semi-biographical
allegories to help us. It will be necessary, therefore,
to deal with these years less personally, and to regard
them more strictly from the point of view of the work
they produced. And to begin with, let us consider
the work already begun before Boccaccio left Naples, or
at any rate worked on during the years 1 341-4, which were
spent in and around Florence.

That his life was far from happy on his return from
Naples we know not only from the bitter and cruel verses
he has left us, in which he speaks of his home —

" Dove la cruda ed orribile vista
D'un vecchio freddo, ruvido ed avaro
Ogn' ora con affanno piu m'attrista "l

but also from the letters he sent to Niccol6 Acciaiuoli,2 in
which he says : " I can write nothing here where I am in

1 Amcto, ed. cit.^ p. 254.

2 Cf. Corazzini, op. cit., p. 17. This letter seems to be a translation from
the Latin.

62 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

Florence, for if I should, I must write not in ink, but
in tears. My only hope is in you — you alone can change
my unhappy fate." That he was very poor we may be
certain, and though he was not compelled to work at
business, the abomination of his youth, no doubt he had
to listen to the regrets, and perhaps to the reproaches, of
an old man whom misfortune had soured. His father,
however, seems to have left him quite free to work as he
wished, satisfying himself with his mere presence and
company. And then the worst was soon over, for, by
what means we know not, by December, 1342, he was
able to buy a house in the parish of S. Ambrogio, and to
live in his own way.1

This period, then, materially so unfortunate, not for
Boccaccio alone, as we shall see, is nevertheless the most
fruitful of his existence. For it is in the five years which
follow his return from Naples that we may be sure he
was at work on the Filocolo, the Ameto, the Teseide, the
Amoroso, Visione, the Filostrato, and wrote the Fiammetta
and the Ninfale Fiesolano, and somewhat in that sequence ;
though save with regard to the Filocolo perhaps, we have no
notice or date or hint even of the order of their produc-
tion, either from himself or any of his contemporaries.

It was at this time, too, that he perfected himself in the
Latin tongue arid read the classics, of which he shows he had
a marvellously close if uncritical knowledge. His state of
soul is visible in his work, which is so extraordinarily
personal. A single thought seems to fill his mind : he had
loved a princess, and had been loved in return ; she had
forsaken him, but she remained, in spite of everything, the
lode-star of his life. He writes really of nothing else but
this. Full of her he sets himself to glorify her, and to
tell over and over again his own story.

1 Possibly on the occasion of his father's second marriage (cf. Fiammetta,
infra), which was probably made for purely financial reasons. The lady
died possibly in the Black Death of 1348, certainly before 1349. See
infra.

THE MURDER OF THE EMPEROR AND EMI'RESS
From a miniature in the French version of the " De Casibus Virorum" made in 140Q
by Laurent le Pj-emierJ "ait. MS. late XI' century. ( Brit. Mus. Showcase V, MS. 12b.)

THE FILOCOLO 63

It was the story of Florio and Biancofiore, popular
enough in Naples, that had charmed Fiammetta at first
hearing in the convent parlour at S. Arcangelo a Baiano,
and it is round this tale that the Filocolo is written.1 As
he tells us himself in the first page, this was the first book
he made to please her, and it was therefore probably
begun in the summer of 1331.2 The work thus under-
taken seems to have grown on his hands, and can indeed
have been no light task : it is the longest of his works
after the Decameron, and the weakest of all. The book,
indeed, as we now have it, must have demanded years of
labour ; as he himself exclaims : " O piccolo mio libretto a
me piu anni stato graziosa fatica" ;3 and it is certain that
it was still unfinished when he returned to Florence, and
probable that it remained so for some years. The narra-
tive is complicated, and the relation very long drawn out
and even tiresome.

There live in Rome, we learn, Quinto Lelio Africano
and Giulia Tropazia his wife, who have been married for
five years, and yet, to their sorrow, have no children.
Lelio is descended from the conqueror of Carthage,
Scipio Africanus, and Giulia from the Julian stock. They
are both pious Christians and vow a pilgrimage to S.
James of Compostella if, in answer to the prayers of that
saint, God will vouchsafe them a child. Their prayers are
heard, and with a great company they set out on pilgrim-
age to Spain in fulfilment of their vow.

Now this pilgrimage has especially infuriated the

1 I write Filocolo rather than Filocopo : see A. Gaspary, Filocolo oder
Filocopo in Zeitschrift fur Rom. Phil., Ill, p. 395.

2 See supra, p. 43, and Appendix I. The view that it was begun in 1336
is defended by Renier, La Vita Nuova e la Fiammetta (Torino, 1879),
p. 238 et seq. That this was his first book we might assert from the evidence
of its form and style. He himself, however, says in the Introduction : " E se
le presenti cose a voi giovani e donzelle generano ne' vostri animi alcun frutto
o dilletto, non siate ingrati di porgere divote laudi a Giove e al nuovo autore "
{Filocolo, ed. cit., Lib. I, p. 9).

3 Filocolo, ed. cit., ii., Lib. V, p. 376.

64 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

ancient enemy of mankind, here half Satan, half Pluto,
and he is resolved to hinder it. In the form of a knight
he appears before King Felice of Spain, who is descended
in direct line from Atlas, the bearer of the heavens, and
tells him how his faithful city of Marmorina has been
assailed by the Romans, how it was sacked and its in-
habitants put to the sword without mercy.

Much moved to anger by this tale, King Felice sets out
against the Romans, and meeting Lelio with his people on
pilgrimage, takes them for his enemies and attacks them.
The little Roman company defends itself with the courage
of despair, but ends by succumbing to overwhelming
force. All the Romans are killed on the field and their
women made prisoners; but not before the King under-
stands how maliciously he has been deceived by the devil,
and how the folk he has killed were but innocent pilgrims.
So he leads Giulia and Glorizia her friend to his wife in
Seville, where a great fete is given in his honour.

And as it happens Giulia and the Queen give birth in
the same day to a daughter and a son respectively, who
are given the names of Biancofiore and Florio. Giulia,
however, dies in child-bed, and her daughter Biancofiore
is educated by the Queen with her son Florio. The two
children learn to read in the " santo libro d' Ovidio," in
which Boccaccio tells us the poet shows, "come i santi
fuochi di Venere si deano ne' freddi cuori con sollecitu-
dine accendere." And this reading is not without its
effect ; the two children fall in love, Love himself ap-
pearing to them.

There follows what we might expect. The King is
angered at their love, and refuses to permit the union of
his son with an unknown Roman girl. He sends the
fifteen-year-old Florio to Montorio, ostensibly to study
philosophy, but really to forget Biancofiore. After the
parting, charmingly told, in which Florio calls on the gods
and heroes, and Biancofiore gives him a ring which will

THE FILOCOLO 65

always tell him of her safety, he departs. The King,
however, profiting by his absence, plots against Bianco-
fiore with the assistance of Massamutino the seneschal.
At a sumptuous banquet given in the castle the girl
is accused of having tried to poison him. She is con-
demned to the stake, and Massamutino is to execute the
sentence.

Meanwhile Florio has been disquieted by the sudden
tarnishing of the ring. Suddenly Venus appears to him,
and bids him go to the assistance of his mistress. Armed
with arms terrestrial and celestial, accompanied by Mars,
Florio hastens to Marmorina. He frees Biancofiore, and
in a sort of duel conquers the seneschal, and having
obtained from him a confession of the conspiracy, proves
the innocence of Biancofiore and kills him. During all
this he is incognito. Then, without heeding her prayers, he
gives her once more into the care of the King and returns to
Montorio without declaring who he is. There he is tempted
to be false to his love by two girls who offer him every
sort of love and pleasure, and it is only with difficulty he
keeps his faith. He is then assaulted by jealousy, how-
ever, for he knows that a young knight, Fileno by name,
altogether noble and valorous, is fallen in love with
Biancofiore. Florio resolves to kill him, but the youth
is advised in a dream of his danger and flies into
Tuscany, where, by reason of his continual weeping, he is
changed into a fountain near a temple.

The persecutions of Biancofiore, however, are not over.
King Felice, wishing to be rid of her, sells her one day to
some merchants, and these take her at length to Alex-
andria in Egypt. Florio, returning, is told she is dead ;
he tries to kill himself on her pretended tomb, but his
mother prevents him and tells him the truth. He resolves
to set out through the world in search of his love. Here
the first part of the story may be said to end.

The second part is concerned with Florio's adventures.

66 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

He travels unknown under the name of Filocolo,1 that is
to say Fatica d'Amore. With his companions he voyages
first towards Italy, and, blown by a tempest to Partenope
(Naples), meets there in a garden the beautiful Fiammetta
and her lover Galeone amid a joyful and numerous com-
pany, each member of which recounts an amorous
adventure, and closes the narrative with a demand for
the solution of the Questione d Amove which arises out
of it.

Meanwhile Biancofiore has been sold to the admiral of
the Sultan of Babylon in Alexandria, who makes a collec-
tion of beauties for his lord. This treasure is kept well
guarded, but with every consideration, at the top of a lofty
and beautiful tower by Sadoc, a ferocious old Arab, who,
however, has two weaknesses — his love of money and his
love of chess. Florio allows him to win at a game of chess,
and at the same time bribes him generously. Having
thus won his good will he has himself carried to Bianco-
fiore in a great basket of flowers. She rewards him for all
his labour. The admiral, however, learns of this, and,
furious at the spoliation of his property, condemns both
Florio and his mistress to be burned alive. But when they
are at the stake, Venus makes their bodies invulnerable,
and inspires Florio's companions to heroic deeds. In
admiration of their courage, the admiral is reconciled
with them ; and, in fact, when Florio, Filocolo till
now, declares who he is, he finds that the old admiral

1 He takes the name of Filocolo because, as he tells us at the end of
Book III, Filocolo, ed. Ht.t I, 354, "such a name it is certain suits me better
than any other." He goes on to explain: "Filocolo e da due greci nomi
composto, da philos e da colos ; philos in greco tanto viene a dire in nostra
lingua quanto amatore ; e colos in greco similmente tanto in nostra lingua
resulta quanto fatica : onde congiunto insieme, si puo dire trasponendo le
parti, Fatica d' Amore : e in cui piii che in me fatiche d' amore sieno state e
siano al presente non so ; voi 1' avete potuto e potete conoscere quante e
quali esse sieno state, sicche chiamandomi questo nome 1' effetto suo
s' adempiera bene nella cosa chiamata, e la fama del mio nome cosi
s' occultera, ne alcuno per quello spaventera : e se necessario forse in alcuna
parte ci fia il nominarmi dirittamente, non c' e pero tolto."

THE FILOCOLO 67

s his uncle. Then follows the marriage and the
carriage feast.

Here the book might well have ended ; but Boccaccio
has by no means finished.

On the way back to Spain, Florio, Biancofiore and their
:ompanions pass through Italy. In Naples they find
Saleone abandoned by Fiammetta. They visit the places
-ound about, the baths of Baia, the ancient sepulchre of
Misenum,1 Cuma, the Mare Morto and Pozzuoli. Florio
ishes in the bay and hunts in the woods. One day
bllowing a stag, he shoots an arrow that not only wounds
:he animal, but also strikes the root of a tall pine, and,
wonderful to relate, Florio and Biancofiore see blood
spring from the wounded tree and hear a mournful voice
:ry out in pain. This being, changed into a tree, proves
:o be Idalagos, who, questioned by Florio, tells him all
lis history, the history, as we have seen,2 of Boccaccio
limself, for it is his own story he tells in the name of
[dalagos.

After these adventures Florio, with Biancofiore and his
:ompanions, goes on to Rome, where, like a modern tourist,
le visits all the sights. In the Lateran he meets the monk
[lario, who discourses on religion, dealing severely with
oaganism, and recounting briefly the contents of the Old
md New Testaments. He speaks also of the history of
:he Greeks and Romans,, and at last converts Florio and
lis companions to Christianity.3 Then follows the re-
:onciliation with Biancofiore's relations and the return to

1 Cf. Virgil. ALneid, VI, 232 et seq.

" At pius iEneas ingenti mole sepulcrum
Inponit, suaque arma viro remumque tubamque
Monte sub aereo, qui nunc Misenus ab illo
Dicitur aeternumque tenet per sascula nomen."

2 Supra, p. 6 et seq. See Filocolo, ed. cit., II, Lib. V, 236 et seq.

3 In the French romance on which the Filocolo is founded the hero on his
eturn imposes Christianity on his people, and those who will not be con-
/erted he burns and massacres. Boccaccio has none of this barbarism.
Italy has never understood religious persecution. It has always been im-
Dosed on her from outside — by Spain, for instance. I do not forget the
ubrics de hereticis in so many of the Statutes of the free Communes.

68 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

Spain, where, Felice being dead, Florio inherits his kinj
dom, and with Biancofiore lives happily ever after.

Such, in the most meagre outline, is the main story of
the Filocolo ; but Boccaccio is not really concerned with it
in its integrity, and in the construction of it he does not
show himself to be the future composer of the Decameron.
He collects in haste, and without much discernment, all
sorts of episodes and adventures, and tells them, not with-
out some confusion, solely to serve his own ends, to express
himself and his love. Sometimes he copies the French
poems from which in part he had the story,1 though prob-
ably his real sources were tradition ; sometimes he invents
his own story, as in the tale of Idalagos. But as a work
of art the Filocolo is now intolerable, and is, in fact, even
in Italy, quite unread. For when we have followed the
hero in detail from birth to the unspeakable happiness
which is the finality of all such creations, we know nothing
of his character. He is not a man, but a shadow ; the
ghost of a ghost. And as it is with Florio, so it is with
Biancofiore : they are pure nothing. But, as it seems,
Boccaccio was too young and too eager to care about
anything but flattering Fiammetta and telling her he
loved her. The story, in so far as it is a story, is an
imitation of the endless medieval tales told by word of
mouth in the streets and piazzas up and down Italy. Yet
now and again, even in this wearying and complicated
desert of words, we may find hints of the author's

1 Floire et Blanceflor, poemes du XIII. stick, pub. (Faprfo les A1SS.,
etc., par Edelestand du Meril (Paris, 1856). I say from whom he had
the story, because it seems to me certain that in Naples he must have seen or
heard these poems. The Provencal troubadours, especially Rambaldo di
Vaqueiras, sang the loves of Florio and Biancofiore, and Boccaccio himself in
the Filocolo affirms that the legend was known and popular in Naples. It
has been contended by Clerc, Discours stir Vetat des lettres au XIV. stick in
Hist. Littir., II, 97, that Boccaccio's work is only an imitation of the French
poems. This cannot be upheld. The legend was everywhere in the Middle
Age. It was derived from a Greek romance, and many of the happenings
and descriptions used by Boccaccio are to be found in the Greek romances.
Cf. Zumbini, II Filocolo, in Nuova Antologia, December, 1879, and January,

THE FILOCOLO 69

attitude of mind towards the great things of the world,
while once certainly we find a prophecy not only of
a great artist, but of the Decameron itself.

In the course of the book Boccaccio makes all sorts of
excursions into mythology, and towards the end into reli-
gion. If we examine these pages we find that for him the
gods of Greece once reigning in Olympus are now devils
and demons according to the transformation of the Middle
Age. The monk who converts Florio and teaches him
Christian doctrine speaks with the same faith of Saturn
and the Trojan war, while Mars and Venus are never
named without the epithet of Santi, and S. James of
Compostella is " il Dio che viene adorato in Galizia."

In spite, however, of its faults of prolixity and preciosity,
the Filocolo has, as I have said, this much interest for us
to-day, that in the finest episode, that of the Questioni a"
Amove, it prophesies the Decameron. In the course of
his search for Biancofiore, Florio, it will be remembered,
comes to Naples, where in a beautiful garden he finds
Fiammetta and her lover Galeone. There, amid a joyful
company, he assists at a festa given in his honour, where
thirteen questions are proposed by four ladies — Cara, Pola,
and Graziosa, and one dressed in bruni vestimenti ; and nine
gentlemen — Filocolo, Longanio, Menedon, Clonico, Galeone,
Feramonte, Duke of Montorio, Ascalione, Parmenione, and
Massalino.1 It is Fiammetta's task to resolve these ques-
tions. Neither the tales nor the questions which rise out
of them are entirely new. For instance, Galeone asks :
" Whether a man for his own good ought to fall in love or
no?" Feramonte demands : "Whether a young man should
love a married woman, a maiden, or a widow?" It is not
indeed so much in the questions as in the stories and the
assembly we are interested, for they announce the

1 It is perhaps unnecessary to remind the reader that it is seven ladies and
three gentlemen who tell the tales of the Decameron. Cf. Rajna, VEpisodio
delle Questioni (V Amove net "Filocolo" del B. in Romania, XXXI (1902),
pp. 28-81.

70 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

Decameron, the whole of which, as Bartoli1 says, is con-
tained in the Qaestioni d' Amore?

The first edition of the Filocolo was published in Venice
in 1472 by Gabriele di Piero, with a life of Boccaccic
written by Girolamo Squarciafico. A French translatioi
appeared in 1542 by Adrien Sevin. It was translate<
again in 1554 by I. Vincent (Paris, 1554, Michel Fezandat

The Filocolo was written in prose. In his next venture3
Boccaccio, who had no doubt already written many songs
for Fiammetta, attempted a story in verse. It is written
in ottave, and was begun during the earlier and brighter
period of his love.4 "You are gone suddenly to Sam-
nium," he writes in the dedication to Fiammetta, " and
. . . I have sought in the old histories what personage I
might choose as messenger of my secret and unhappy
love, and I have found Troilus son of Priam, who loved

1 Bartoli, I precursi del B. (Firenze, 1876), p. 64.

3 The order of the production of these youthful works is extremely un-
certain. I do not believe it possible to give their true order, because they
were not necessarily begun and finished in the same sequence. We may be
sure that the Filocolo is the first work he began : it seems almost equally
certain that the Filostrato is the first of his long poems. That no work was
completed in Naples I think equally certain ; but it is possible that the
Ameto, begun in Florence, was finished before any other book. The
Filostrato was begun in Naples, but it is so much finer than the Filocolo or
the Ameto, and is perhaps the finest work of his youth, that many critics have
wished to place it later.

4 He writes in the dedication: "Filostrato e il titolo di questo libro ; e
la cagione e, perche ottimamente si conf& cotal nome con l'effetto del libro.
Filostrato tanto viene a dire, quanto uomo vinto ed abbattuto d'amore come
vedere si pu6 che fu Troilo, dell' amore del quale in questo libro si racconta :
perciocche egli fu da amore vinto si fortemente amando Griseida, e cotanto
si afflisse nella sua partita, che poco manco che morte non le sorprendesse."

THE FILOSTRATO 71

Criseyde. His miseries are my history. I have sung
them in light rhymes and in my own Tuscan, and so when
you read the lamentations of Troilus and his sorrow at the
departure of his love, you shall know my tears, my sighs,
my agonies, and if I vaunt the beauties and the charms
of Criseyde you will know that I dream of yours." Well,
the intention of the poem is just that. It is an expression
of his love. He is tremendously interested in what he has
suffered ; he wishes her to know of it, he is eager to tell of
his experiences, his pains and joys. The picture is the
merest excuse, a means of self-expression. And yet in its
exquisite beauty of sentiment and verse it is one of the
loveliest of his works. The following is an outline of the
narrative.

During the siege of Troy, Calchas, priest of Apollo,
deserts to the Greek camp,1 and leaves his daughter
Criseyde, the young and beautiful widow, in Troy.2 Troilus
sees her there in the temple of Minerva,3 and falls in love.
By good luck he finds that Criseyde is a cousin of his
dear friend Pandarus, whom he immediately makes his
confidant,4 obtaining from him the promise that he will
help him.5 Pandarus goes slowly and cautiously to work.
He first persuades Criseyde to let herself be seen by
Troilus,6 and when this does not satisfy his friend he
shows himself rich in resource. At his suggestion Troilus
writes to Criseyde and he bears the letter. He spares no
way of persuading her, who at first swearing " per la mia

1 Filostrato (ed. Moutier), parte i. ott. viii.-ix. p. 14.

2 Ibid., p. i. ott. xi.

" Una sua figlia vedova, !a quale
Si bella e si angelica a vedere
Era, che non parea cosa mortale,
Griseida nomata, al inio parere
Accorta, savia, onesta e costumata
Quanto altra che in Troia fosse nata."

3 So had Boccaccio seen Fiammetta in S. Lorenzo di Napoli. Criseyde
was also " in bruna vesta,'" ott. xix.

4 Filostrato, ed. fit., p. ii. ott. xix.-xx., pp. 37-8.

5 Ibid., p. ii. ott. xxiii.-xxiv., p. 39.

6 Ibid., p. ii. ott. lxiv.-lxvi., pp. 52-3.

72 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

salute " that she will never consent, consents and makes
Troilus happy.1

Almost all the third Canto is devoted to a description
of the happiness of the two lovers.

" Poi die ciascun sen fu ito a dormire,
E la casa rimasta tutta cheta,
Tosto parve a Griseida di gire
Dov' era Troilo ni parte segreta,
II qual, com' egli la senti venire,
Drizzato ni pie, e con la faccia lieta
Le si fe' incontro, tacito aspettando,
Per esser presto ad ogni suo comando.

" Avea la donna un torchio in mano acceso,
E tutta sola discese le scale,
E Troilo vide aspettarla sospeso,
Cui ella saluto, poi disse, quale
Ella pote : signor, se io ho offeso,
In parte tale il tuo splendor reale
Tenendo chiuso, pregoti per Dio,
Che mi perdoni, dolce mio disio.

"A cui Troilo disse : donna bella
Sola speranza e ben della mia mente,
Sempre davanti m' e stata la Stella
Del tuo bel viso splendido e lucente,
E stata m' e piu casa particella
Questa, che '1 mio palagio certamente ;
E dimandar perdono a cio non tocca ;
Poi 1' abbraccio e baciaronsi in bocca.

" Non si partiron prima di quel loco
Che mille volta insieme s' abbracciaro
Con dolce festa e con ardente gioco,
Ed altrettante vie piu si baciaro,
Siccome que' ch' ardevan d' ugual foco,
E che P un V altro molto aveva caro ;
Ma come 1' accoglienze si finiro,
Salir le scale e 5n camera ne giro.

1 Filostrato, ed. cit. , p. ii. ott. cxxxvi. et seq. Her protestations, too long
to quote here, are exquisite. They might be Fiammetta's very words, or any
woman's words.

THE FILOSTRATO 73

M Lungo sarebbe a raccontar la festa
E impossible a dire il diletto
Che insieme preser pervenuti in questa :
E5 si spogliarono e entraron nel letto ;
Dove la donna nell' ultima vesta
Rimasa gia, con piacevole detto
Gli disse : speglio mio, le nuove spose
Son la notte primiera vergognose.

"A cui Troilo disse : anima mia,
V te ne prego, si ch' io t' abbia in braccio
Ignuda si come il mio cor disia.
Ed ella allora : ve' che me ne spaccio ;
E la camicia sua gittata via,
Nelle sue braccia si raccolse avaccio
E strignendo l5 un V altro con fervore,
D' amor sentiron Y ultimo valore.

" O dolce notte, e molto disiata,
Chente fostu alii due lieti amanti ! " 1

But the happiness of the Trojan prince does not last.
Calchas, who desires to see his daughter, contrives that she
shall come to him in an exchange of prisoners. Inex-
pressible is the sorrow of Troilus when he learns of this
design.2 He prays the gods, if they wish to punish him, to
take from him his brother Hector or Polissena, but to leave
him his Criseyde.3 Nor is Criseyde less affected.4 Pandarus,
when appealed to, suggests that Troilus shall take the girl,
if need be, by force : a marriage seems to have been out of
the question.

" Pensato ancora avea di domandarla
Di grazia al padre mio che la mi desse ;
Poi penso questo fora un accusarla,
E far palese le cose commesse ;

1 Filostrato, ed. cit., partiii. ott. xxvii.-xxxii. pp. 88-90, and cf. Chaucer,
Troilus and Criseyde (Complete Works, ed. Skeat, Oxford, 1901), Bk. Ill,
st. 169-189.

2 Filistrato, ed. cit., part iv. ott. xiv.-xviii. pp. 1 17-18.

3 Ibid., part iv. ott. xxx.-xxxii. pp. 122-3.

4 Ibid., part iv. ott. xciii.-xcv. pp. 143-4.

74 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

Ne spero ancora ch' el dovesse darla,
Si per non romper le cose promesse,
E perche la direbbe diseguale
A me, al qual vuol dar donna reale." l

In fact, Cassandra has already discovered that her
brother is in love with a lady of no birth, the daughter of
a wretched and vulgar priest. So Troilus decides to have
a last meeting with Criseyde before she goes, to contrive
with her what is to be done. At this meeting the lovers
swear eternal fidelity2 and Criseyde promises to return to
him in Troy in ten days' time. Then in that same day
Diomede delivers one prisoner and takes Criseyde back
with him to the Greek camp.

Now Troilus is alone with his sorrow. He visits all
the places that remind him of Criseyde, and this pilgrimage
is described in some of the most splendid verses of the
poem : — 3

" Quindi sen gi per Troia cavalcando

E ciascun luogo gliel tornava a mente ;

De' quai con seco giva ragionando :

Quivi rider la vidi lietamente ;

Quivi la vidi verso me guardando :

Quivi mi saluto benignamente ;

Quivi far festa e quivi star pensosa,

Quivi la vidi a? miei sospir pietosa.

" Cola istava, quand' ella mi prese
Con gli occhi belli e vaghi con amore ;

" Cola la vidi altiera, e la umile
Mi si mostro la mia donna gentile."

So he passes the time. In vain Pandarus seeks to distract
him ;4 in vain he seeks to comfort himself with making

1 Filostrato, ed. cit., part iv. ott. lxix. p. 135.

2 Ibid., part iv. clxii.-clxiii. pp. 166-7.

3 Ibid., part v. liv. et seq. The same idea is to be found in the Teseide
and the Fiammetta. It is more than worth while comparing these passages.

4 Ibid., part v. xxxiv.-xlii.

THE FILOSTRATO 75

verses ; the longing to see Criseyde again is stronger than
anything else.

At last the ten days pass, and Criseyde ought to return to
Troy. Troilus awaits her at dawn at the gate of the city ;
but in vain : she does not come. He consoles himself,
however, by thinking that perhaps she has forgotten to
count the days and will come to-morrow. But neither
does she come on the morrow. Thus he awaits her for a
whole week in vain at the gate of the city, till at last in
despair he resolves to take his own life.1

Meanwhile Criseyde, from the day of her departure, has
passed the time much better than Troilus. For in truth
she has consoled herself with Diomede, who, after the first
four days, has easily made her forget the Trojan. She
does not wish, however, that Troilus should know she has
broken faith. She answers his letters and puts him off with
words and excuses.

" My love with words and errors still she feeds,
But edifies another with her deeds."*

This sort of deception, however, cannot last long.
Troilus grows more and more suspicious, till one day
Deiphebus having fought with Diomede, he brings into
Troy a clasp taken from the Greek which Troilus recog-
nises as the same he had given to Criseyde, and is per-
suaded of her falsity.3 So he resolves to avenge himself
on Diomede. In every encounter he rushes headlong on
the foe, achieving miracles of valour, seeking everywhere for
Diomede ; but fate is against him even here, and he falls at
last unavenged, but at least by the noble hand of Achilles.4

" The wraththe, as I began yow for to seye
Of Troilus, the Grekes boughten dere ;
For thousands his hondes maden deye
As he that was with-outen any pere,

1 Filostrato, ed. cit., part vii. ott. vi., xi., xvi., xxxii.-xxxiii. pp. 208,
210, 2T2, 217. 2 Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, V, 3.

3 Filostrato, ed. cit.y part viii. xii.-xvi. pp. 247-8.

4 Ibid. , part viii. xxvii.

GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

Save Ector, in his tyme, as I can here.
But weylaway save only goddes will
Dispitously him slough the fiers Achille."1

Thus ends this simple work. In it we see an extra-
ordinary advance on the Filocolo and the Teseide, both oi
which were possibly planned and begun before the Filo-
strato and finished later, for there is a fine unity about the
last which suggests that it was begun and ended withoul
intervention. Certainly here Boccaccio has freed himself
from all the mythological nonsense of those works as well
as from the lay figures and ghosts of knights who take
antique names and follow impossible ways. Here are re;
people of flesh and blood, and among them nothing i«
finer than the study of Criseyde. She is as living as an]
figure in the Decameron itself. We see her first as a wido^
mourning for a husband she has altogether forgotten
yet when Pandarus makes his first overtures, she plead;
her bereavement, while she reads with delight the letters
Troilus sends her, and is already contriving in her little heac
how and when she shall meet him. She tries to mak<
Pandarus think she is doing everything out of pity, but
her mind she has already decided to give everything to hei
lover, although she writes him that she is "desirous t(
please him so far as she may with safety to her honoui
and chastity." Then, as soon as she has left Troy weeping,
and Diomede has revealed his love to her, she forget:;
Troilus because the Greek " was tall and strong an<

beautiful " :—

" Egli era grande e bel della persona,
Giovane fresco e piacevole assai
E forte e fier siccome si ragiona. . . .
E ad amor la natura aveva prona." 2

So she takes him, but even to him she lies, for she telh
him she has loved and been loved by no one but her dea(
husband, whom she served loyally : —

1 Chauckr, Troilus and Criseyde, Book V, st. 258.

2 Filostrato, ed. cit., part vi. ott. xxxiii. p. 205.

THE FILOSTRATO 77

" Amore io non conobbi, poi morio
Colui al qual lealmente il servai,
Si come a marito e signor mio ;
Ne Greco ne Troian mai non curai
In cotal fatto, ne me m' e in disio
Curarne alcuno, ne mi fia giammai : . . ."1

This character, vain, false, and light, but absolutely
living and a very woman, is opposed to the loyal character
of Pandarus, and is doubtless subtly modelled without
too much exaggeration on that of Fiammetta. In direct
contrast to it is the character of Troilus, the most beautiful
in the poem : so eager, so ardent, so perfectly youth
itself. He knows no country, no religion, no filial affection,
but lives and sees only Criseyde. Every day he will
thrust himself into the thickest of the fight in search of
glory that he may lay it at her feet and win her praise.
It is love that has made him a hero, as it made Boccaccio
a poet : but both Criseyde and Fiammetta were women ;
what should they care for that? Troilus is a real
creation, the first of those marvellous living figures who
later people the Decameron : the first and the most
charming, the most youthful, the most beautiful. But the
whole poem is marvellously original alike in its characters
and in its versification.

As for the story, Boccaccio, it seems, got it partly from
Benoit de Sainte-More, whose Roman de Troie had been
composed from the uncertainly dated works of " Dictys
Cretensis " and " Dares Phrygius," and partly from the
prose Latin Hystoria Troiana of Guido delle Colonne ;
there is certainly nothing of the Iliad there. But the
Filostrato is really an original composition, owing little
or nothing to any previous work. If there be any imita-
tions to be found in it they are not of the Roman de Troie
or of Guido delle Colonne, but of Dante : 2 the Divine

1 Filostrato, ed. cit., p. vi. ott. xxix. p. 204.

2 Cf. e.g. Filostrato, ed. cit., p. iii. ott. i. p. 80, with Paradiso,\. 13-27 ;
or Filostrato, ed. cit., p. viii. ott. xvii. p. 249, with Purgatorio, vi. 1 1 8-20.
There are, however, very many Dantesque passages. See infra, p. 253 et seq.

78 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

Comedy even at this time having cast its shadow over
Boccaccio.

In the ninth and last book of the poem, which is not
indeed a part of it, but rather a sort of epilogue, he
dedicates his work to Fiammetta,

" Alia donna gentil della mia mente,"

and tells her that she may find there his own tears and
sighs because of —

" De' suoi begli occhi i raggi chiari,
Mi si occultaron per la sua partenza
Che lieto sol vivea di lor presenza."

These words to some extent date the poem, which was
apparently finished before Fiammetta had betrayed him,
and it seems likely even that he had not as yet obtained
from her the favours he valued so highly and of which she
was so generous to so many. These are the reasons why
I have considered the Filostrato so early a work in spite
of its perfection.

The poem was published for the first time about 1480
by Luca Veneto in Venice ; it was translated into French1
by Louis de Beauveau, Seneschal d'Anjou, and as we shall
see, Chaucer drew from it his exquisite poem Troilus and
Criseyde.

In turning now to the Teseide we come apparently to
the third work, in point of time, of Boccaccio's youth. In
the Filocolo, itself a labour of love, he has told us of his
first joy ; in the Filostrato of his hopes, torments, doubts,
and waiting ; in the Teseide we see the agonies of his
jealousy. It was written to some extent under the influence
of Virgil as we should suppose, since it was begun, as we
may think, in the shadow of his tomb when Boccaccio

1 Cf. Hortis, Studisulle op. Latine del B. (Trieste, 1879), p. 595.

THE TESEIDE 79

iad left the city of Naples,1 and it proves indeed to
3e written in twelve books, and to have precisely
:he same number of lines as the ALneid, namely 9896 ;
,t is therefore about twice as long as the Filostrato. It
[3 prefaced by a letter "To Fiammetta," in which he
tells us why he has written the. poem, while "thinking of
past joy in present misery." The work professes to be
a story of ancient times, and to be concerned with
the love two brothers in arms, Palemon and Arcite,
bear Emilia ; but this is merely an excuse. " It is to
please you," he tells Fiammetta, " that I have composed
this love story." Was it with some idea of winning back
her love by this stupendous manuscript ? How charming
and how naive, how like Giovanni too; but how absurd
to dream of thus influencing Fiammetta. Did she ever
read these nine thousand odd verses ? Che ! che !

The story is meagrely as follows : —

In the barbarous land of Scythia,2 on the shores of the.
Black Sea, dwelt the Amazons under Ippolyta, their
queen. Now certain Greeks cast up on that coast in a
tempest had been ill-treated there, and Theseus, Duke of
Athens, undertakes a war of vengeance against that king-
dom, and in spite of a valorous defence conquers it.3
His price of peace is absolute submission and the hand of
the Queen IrJpolyta. And it was so, and many of the
Greeks too, longing for women after the campaign,
married also. And when Theseus had lived in peace
there with his wife Ippolyta for more than a year,4 scarce
thinking of Athens, his friend Peritoo appeared to him in
a dream urging his return. So he set out and came to
Athens with Ippolyta and her younger sister Emilia.

Scarcely is he come to Athens when he is urged by a

1 See supra, p. 58.

2 Teseide (ed. Moutier), Lib. I, ott. 6, p. IX,

3 Ibid., Lib. I, ott. 74-6, p. 34.

4 Ibid., Lib. II, ott. 2, p. 57.

80 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

deputation of the Greek princesses to declare war on
Creon, who will not permit the burial rites to be per-
formed' for those who fell in the war of succession.
Theseus* conquers Thebes and Creon is killed, the bodies
of the Greek princes are solemnly burned and their ashes
conserved.

So far the introduction, in which Boccaccio has followed
tradition with an almost perfect faithfulness : now begins
his own work, to which these adventures of Theseus are
but the preface.

Two youths of the royal Theban stock, Palemon and
Arcite, have been made prisoners by Theseus and taken
to Athens. There they see from the window of their
prison the beautiful Emilia of the blonde hair, sister of
the Amazonian queen. She is walking in the garden
when they see her and she them. She quickly finds that
she likes to be admired, and in all innocence coquets with
the two young prisoners,1 who for six months lament their
love without hope.

Now as it happens, by the help of Peritoo, Arcite is set
at liberty, on condition that he goes into exile and only
returns to Athens under pain of death. Profoundly
sorrowful to leave Emilia, he sets out in company with
some esquires as a knight-errant, and wanders all over
Greece, until at last his love compels him to return to
Athens.2 Once more in Athens, he enters the service of
Theseus, undiscovered and unknown, but that the little
Emilia recognises him, though she does not betray him.
He is, however, discovered and betrayed by his own im-
prudence. For he arouses the jealousy of Palemon, who
escapes from his prison, and finding his friend and rival in
a wood, forces him to fight in order to decide who shall
have Emilia.3

1 Teseide, ed. cit., Lib. Ill, ott. 28-9, pp. 99-100.

2 Ibid., Lib. IV, ott. 37, p. 131.

3 Ibid, Lib. V, ott. 48, p. 166.

THE TITLE OF THE "NOBLES MALHEUREUX" (DE CASIBUS).
(PARIS, I538)
(By the courtesy of Messrs. J. & J. Leighton)

THE TESEIDE 81

While they were calling on Mars, Venus, and Emilia,1 in
he same way as the Christian knights called on Madonna
.nd their lady, suddenly Emilia, who was hunting in that
-ery wood, came upon them, and they, made fiercer by her
)resence, start in earnest.2 But at last Theseus arrives
:alled by Emilia, to end the combat and learn the cause
)f the quarrel. Hearing it he pardons them, for he him-
self has been young and has loved too, but he attaches to
lis pardon a condition, to wit, that each of them, aided by
i hundred knights, shall combat in public for Emilia's
land.3

The young lovers must send into all lands messengers
:o enrol two hundred knights,4 and these at last are
gathered together in the place of combat. Among the
-est came Peleus, still a youth, the great twin brethren
Castor and Pollux, Agamemnon and Paris, Narcissus,
Nestor, Ulysses, Pygmalion, prince of Tyre, Sichaeus,
Minos, and Rhadamanthus, who have abandoned their
judgment seats in Orcus to witness the fight. Indeed, as
Landau has well said, if Homer had been there, he would
certainly have been delighted to find again so many he
[had known of old, but he would also have marvelled to
;find among them so many jongleurs.

Before beginning the struggle Theseus, Palemon, and
Arcite hold long discourses ; the two rivals and Emilia
recite long prayers.

The prayer of Arcite is to Mars, who lives in the mists
of Thrace amid snow and ice. There in a thick wood of
stout oaks stands his palace of iron with gates of dia-
mond, at which mount guard Mad Fury, Murder, and
Eternal Anger red as fire.

On the other hand, Palemon's prayer is to Venus, who

1 Teseide, ed. cit., Lib. V, ott. 75, p. 175.

2 Ibid., Lib. V, ott. 80, p. 177.

3 Ibid., Lib. V, ott. 97, p. 182.

4 Ibid., Lib. VI, ott. 11, p. 190.

82 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

lives in a garden full of fountains and streams and singing
birds. There meet Grace, Courtesy, Delight, Beauty,
Youth, and Mad Ardour. At the entrance sits Madonna
Pace (Peace), and near her Patience and Cunning in Love.
Within, however, Jealousy tortures his victims ; while the
door which leads to the sanctuary where Venus reposes
between Bacchus and Ceres is guarded by Riches.1

The tourney is then described in the usual way, and
ends in the defeat of Palemon. However, as Arcite only
asked Mars for victory, he cannot enjoy it or its fruit.
Palemon, it seems, asked not for victory, but that he
might have Emilia. So the gods decide it. And there-
fore Venus sends a Fury who throws Arcite, and he is
mortally wounded after his victory.2 Before his death,
however, he is married to Emilia,3 makes his will, in which
he leaves his wife and fortune to his friend and rival, and
ends by swearing to him that he has only had of Emilia a
single kiss.4 After this Arcite is buried with great pomp,
and tourneys are held in his honour, and there follows the
marriage of Emilia and Palemon.5

What are we to make of such a work as this? Am-
bitious and complicated though it be, it is out of all
comparison feebler than the simple tale of Troilus and
Criseyde. Nor has it the gift of life, nor the subtle
characterisation of the Filostrato. The two youths Pale-
mon and Arcite are alike in their artificiality ; they have
never breathed the air we breathe, and we care nothing
for or against them. And it would be the same with
Emilia, but that her absolute stupidity angers us, and we
soon come to find her unbearable. She is always praying
the gods to give her the man she loves for a husband, but
she herself is absolutely ignorant which of the two he

may be.

1 Cf. Poliziano, Statute, Lib. I, st. 69-76.

2 Teseide, ed. cit., Lib. IX, ott. 2-8, pp. 306-8.

3 Ibid., Lib. IX, ott. 83, p. 333.

4 Ibid., Lib. X, ott. 43, p. 348.

1 Ibid., Lib. XII, ott. 69, p. 426.

THE TESEIDE 83

But it might seem that the last thing Boccaccio thought
of here was the creation of an impersonal work of art.
His intention was rather to express his own sufferings. ,
In the agonies of Palemon and Arcite he wished Fiam-
metta to see his own misery ; and it may be that in the
protection of Venus by which Palemon got at last what
he most desired, he wished to tell Fiammetta that he too
expected to triumph, even then, by virtue of his passion,
the singleness of his love. Certainly, he seemed to say,
you are worthy of the love of heroes, but it is the heart'
of a poet that Venus protects and satisfies ; then give me
your grace, since I am so faithful. That something of this
sort was in his mind is obvious from the dedicatory letter
to Fiammetta.1

As for the sources from which Boccaccio had the tale,
we have seen that*h'e certainly knew the Thebais of
Statius,2 but it was not only from Statius that he borrowed ;
he used also, as Crescini3 has proved, the Roman de
Thebes, especially towards the end of his poem. Nor
must we altogether pass over the influence of the Aineid,
in which he found not only the form, but often the sub-
stance of his work.4

1 He says there : " E ch' ella da me per voi sia compilata, due cose fra le
altre il manifestano. L' una si e, che cio che sotto il nome dell' uno de' due
amanti e della giovine amata si conta essere stato, ricordandovi bene, e io
a voi di me, e voi a me di voi (se non mentiste) potrete conoscere essere stato
fatto e detto in parte." And consider the closing words of the letter : " Io
procederei a molti piu preghi, se quella grazia, la quale io ebbi gia in voi, non
se ne fosse andata. Ma perocche io del niego dubito con ragione, non
volendo che a quell' uno che di sopra ho fatto, e che spero, siccome
giusto, di ottenere, gli altri nocessero, e senza essermene niuno conceduto mi
rimanessi, mi taccio ; ultimamente pregando colui che mi vi diede, allorache io
primieramente vi vidi, che se in lui quelle forze sono che gia furono, raccen-
dendo in voi la spenta fiamma a me vi renda, la quale, non so per che
cagione, inimica fortuna mi ha tolta.'"'

2 Supra, p. 58 et seq. Cf. the letter of 1338 or 1339 in which he asks for a
codex of the Thebais with a gloss : P. Savi-Lopez, Sullefonti delle Teseide
in Giornale Stor. della Lett. Ital., An. XXIII, fasc. 106-7; and Crescini,
op. ctt., pp. 220-47.

3 Crescini, op. ctt., pp. 234-5.

4 In looking for the sources of the Teseide one must not forget what
Boccaccio himself writes in the letter dedicatory to Fiammetta : " E acciocche

84 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

The first edition of the Teseide, full of faults, was pub-
lished in Ferrara in 1475 by Pietro Andrea Bassi. As for
translations, there have been many, the first being a Greek
version issued in Venice in 1529. There followed an
Italian prose paraphrase published in Lucca in 1579;
while in 1597 a French version was published in Paris.
The most famous translation or rather paraphrase was
made, however, by Chaucer for the Knight's Tale in the
Canterbury Tales; and of this I speak elsewhere.

In the shadow of Virgil's tomb, in a classic country still
full of an old renown, Boccaccio had followed classic
models, had written two epics and a romance in the
manner of Apuleius ; but in Tuscany, the country of
Dante and Petrarch, he came under the influence of
different work, and we find him writing pastorals. The
Ameto is a pastoral romance written in prose scattered
with verses, and to the superficial reader it cannot but
be full of weariness. The action takes place in the
country about Florence under the hills of Fiesole in the
woods there, and begins with the description of the rude
hunter Ameto (aS/mtjTos), who only thinks of the chase and
of the way through the forest.1 Then he comes upon a
nymph, Lia by name, and scarcely has he seen her and

1' opera sia verissimo testimonio alle parole, ricordandomi che gia ne' di piu
felici che lunghi io vi sentii vaga d' udire, e talvolta di leggere e una e
altra storia, e massimamente le amorose, siccome quella che tutta ardeva nel
fuoco nel quale io ardo*(e questo forse faciavate, acciocche i tediosi tempi con
ozio non fossono cagione di pensieri piu nocevoli) ; come volonteroso servidore,
il quale non solamente il comandamento aspetta del suo maggiore, ma quello,
operando quelle cose che piacciono, previene : trovata una antichissima
storia, e al piu delle genti non manifesta, bella si per la materia della quale
parla, che e d' amore, e si per coloro de' quali dice che nobili giovani furono
e di real sangue discesi, in latino volgare e in rima acciocche piu dilettasse, e
massimamente a voi, che gia con sommo titolo le mie rime esaltaste, con
quella sollecitudine che conceduta mi fu dell' altre piu gravi, desiderando di
piacervi, ho ridotta."

1 Ameto (in Opere Minori, Milano, 1879), PP- I47~8.

THE A ME TO 85

heard her sing than he loves her. After many pages of
description of the love of Ameto, the struggle between his
love and his timidity, he tells Lia at last that he loves her,
and makes her accompany him in the chase. Winter
comes, however, and separates them. But in the spring
Ameto finds her again near a temple in which are gathered
a company of fauns, dryads, satyrs, and naiads. There
too in a private place a party of nymphs and shepherds
meet close to Ameto and Lia. Many pages of description
follow concerning each of the six nymphs, Mopsa, Emilia,
Fiammetta, Acrimonia, Agapes, and Adiona. These de-
scriptions are very wearying, for they are almost exactly
alike, so like, indeed, that we may think Boccaccio was
describing one woman and that Fiammetta. One after
another these nymphs tell their amorous adventures, and
each closes her account with a song in terza rima. Then
Venus appears in the form of a column of fire,1 and
Ameto not being able to support the sight of the goddess,
the nymphs come to his aid. When he is himself again,
he prays the goddess to be favourable to his love.

Till now the pagan and sensual character of the book is
complete, but here Ameto suddenly sees the error of his
ways, all is changed in a moment, the spiritual beauty of
the nymphs seems to him to surpass altogether their
physical beauty. He understands that their loves are not
men ; the gods and temples about which they discourse
are not those of the Pagans, and he is ashamed to
have loved one of them as he might have loved any
mortal girl. Then suddenly he breaks into a hymn in
honour of the Trinity, and they all return to their own
homes. Thus the work ends without telling us of the
fate of Ameto or the nymphs.

The book, however, full as it is of imitations of Dante,
is an allegory within an allegory. The nymphs and
shepherds are not real people, but it seems personifica-

1 Ibid., pp. 246-7.

86 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

tions of the four cardinal virtues and the three theological
virtues and their opposites. Thus Mopsa is Wisdom:
and she loves Afron, Foolishness ; Emilia is Justice,
and she loves Ibrida, Pride ; Adiona is Temperance, and
she loves Dioneo, Licence ; Acrimonia is Fortitude, and
she loves Apaten, Insensibility; Agapes is Charity,
and she loves Apiros, Indifference; Fiammetta is Hope,
and she loves Caleone, Despair ; Lia is Faith, and
she loves Ameto, Ignorance. In their songs the seven
nymphs praise and exalt the seven divinities that corre-
spond to the seven virtues which they impersonate ;
thus Pallas is praised by Mopsa (Wisdom), Diana by
Emilia (Justice), Pomona by Adiona (Temperance),
Bellona by Acrimonia (Fortitude), Venus by Agapes
(Charity), Vesta by Fiammetta (Hope), and Cibele by Lia
(Faith). The whole action of the work then becomes
symbolical, and Boccaccio, it has been said, had the inten-
tion of showing that a man, however rude and savage, can
find God only by means of the seven virtues which are
the foundation of all morals. If such were his intention
he has indeed chosen strange means of carrying it out.
The stories of the seven nymphs are extremely licentious,
and all confess that they do not love their husbands and
are seeking to make the shepherds fall in love with them.
All this is, as we see, obscure, medieval, and far-fetched.
Let it be what it may be. It is not in this allegory
we shall find much to interest us, but in certain other
allusions in which the work is rich. Thus we shall note
that Fiammetta is Hope, and that she gives Hope to
Caleone, who is Despair. That Caleone is Boccaccio him-
self there can be no manner of doubt. We see then that
at the time the Ameto was written he still had some hope
of winning Fiammetta again. In fact in the Ameto
Fiammetta has the mission of saving Caleone from death,
for he is resolved to kill himself. I have spoken of the
autobiographical allusions in the Ameto \ however, else-

chr
ten
fim
t>afTa conditiorienon pattb
po colore chc dtfehren era
ro Adamolropiurcputato.
a foffrire:ccrto no p crudclr
nclla menre cocepro da pr>
regolaro coucncuolc term:;

FRONTISPIECE OF THE "DECAMERON." (VENICE, I492)

THE AMOROSA VISIONE 87

where.1 It will be sufficient to say here that the Ameto
was written, as Boccaccio himself tells us, in order that
he might tell freely without regret or fear what he had
seen and heard. It is all his life that we find in the stories
of the nymphs. Emilia tells of Boccaccino's love for
Jeanne (Gannai), his desertion of her, his marriage, and
his ruin. Fiammetta tells how her mother was seduced
by King Robert, who is here called Midas.2 Then she
describes the passion of Caleone (Boccaccio), his nocturnal
surprise of her, and his triumph. The work is in fact a
complete biography; and since this is so, there are in
fact no sources from which it can be said to be derived.
We find there some imitations of the Divine Comedy,
some hints from Ovid and Virgil, of Moschus and Theo-
critus. The Ameto was dedicated to Niccola di Bartolo
del Bruno, his "only friend in time of trouble." It was
first published in small quarto in Rome in 1478. It has
never been translated into any language.

There follows the Amorosa Visione, which was almost
certainly begun immediately after the Ameto; at any rate,
all modern authorities are agreed that it was written
between 1341 and 1344. It recalls the happier time of
his love, and Fiammetta is the very soul of the poem.
Written in terza rima, not its only likeness to the Divine
Comedy, it is dedicated to Maria d' Aquino (Fiammetta)
in an acrostic, which is solved by reading the initial letters
of the first verse of each terzina ; the result being two
sonnets and a ballata.3 The name of "Madonna Maria"
is formed by the initials of the twelfth to the twenty-second

1 See supra, p. 6.

2 King Robert is always spoken of as living, so that one may suppose the
Ameto to have been finished before January, 1343, for the king died on the
19th. This, however, by no means certainly follows.

3 See Appendix IV.

88 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

terzine of chapter x, and the name " Fiamma " by those
of the twenty-fifth to the thirty-first of chapter xiii.
Here is no allegory at all, but a clear statement; the
three last lines of the first sonnet reading : —

" Cara Fiamma, per cui '1 core 6 caldo,
Que' che vi manda questa Visione
Giovanni e di Boccaccio da Certaldo."

As the title proclaims, the poem is a Vision — a vision
which Love discovers to the poet-lover. While he is
falling asleep a lady appears to him who is to be his
guide. He follows her in a dream, and together they
come to a noble castello ; there by a steep stairway they
enter into the promised land, as it were, of Happiness,
choosing not the wearying road of Good to the left, but
passing through a wide portal into a spacious room on
the right, whence come delicious sounds of festa. Two
youths, one dressed in white, the other in red, after
disputing with his guide, lead him into the festa, where
he sees four triumphs — of Wisdom, of Fame, of Love, and
of Fortune. In the triumph of Wisdom he sees all the
learned men, philosophers, and poets of the world, among
them Homer, Virgil, and Cicero, Horace, Sallust, Livy,
Galen, Cato, Apuleius, Claudian, Martial, and Dante.1 In
the triumph of Fame he sees all the famous heroes and
heroines of Antiquity and the Middle Age, among them
Saturn, Electra, Baal, Paris, Absalom, Hecuba, Brutus,
Jason, Medea, Hannibal, Cleopatra, Cornelia, Giulia, and
Solomon, Charlemagne, Charles of Apulia, and Corradino.2
The uniformity of the descriptions is pleasantly inter-
rupted by certain apparitions, among them Robert of
Naples 3 and Boccaccino,4 besides a host of priests.5 Once

1 Atnorosa Visione (Moutier), cap. v. pp. 21-5.

2 Ibid., caps, vii.-xii.

3 Ibid., cap. xiii. p. 53.

4 Ibid., cap. xiv. p. 58.

5 Ibid., cap. xiv. p. 57.

THE A MO ROSA VISIONE 89

in speaking of the sufferings of poverty he seems to be
writing of his own experiences : —

" Ha ! lasso, quanto nelli orecchi fioco
Risuona altrui il senno del mendico,
Ne par che luce o caldo abbia '1 suo foco.
E '1 piu caro parente gli e nemico,
Ciascun lo schifa, e se non ha moneta,
Alcun non e che '1 voglia per amico." *

After all, it is the experience of all who have been poor for
a season.

There follows the triumph of Love, in which he sees all
the fortunate and unfortunate lovers famous in poetry from
the mythology of Greece to Lancelot and Guinevere, and
Tristram and Iseult ; and among these he sees Fiammetta.

So we pass to the triumph of Fortune, in which we learn
the stories of Thebes, of Troy, of Carthage, of Alexander,
of Pompey, of Niobe, and we are told of the inconstancy
of terrestrial things.2 And thus disillusioned, the poet
makes the firm resolve to follow his guide in spite of
every temptation. Yet almost at once a certain beautiful
garden destroys his resolve. For he enters there and
finds a marvellous fountain of marble, and a company of
fair women who are presented to him under mysterious
pseudonyms.3 Among these are the bella Lombarda, the
Lia of the Ameto, and finally the lady who writes her
name in letters of gold in the heart of the poet.4 And
this lady he chooses for his sun, with the approval of his
guide, who seems to have forgotten, as he has certainly
done, the resolves so lately taken. However, the guide
now discreetly leaves him in a somewhat compromising
position ; and it is thus Fiammetta who leads him into
the abandoned road of virtue.5

1 Amoroso, Visione, ed. cit., cap. xiv. p. 59.

2 Ibid., cap. xxxiii. p. 135.

3 Ibid., caps, xl.-xliv. For an explanation consult CRESCINI, op. a't.,
pp. 1 1 4-4 1. 4 lb id., cap. xlv. p. 151.

1 ** Ecco dunque," says Crescini {op. cit.y p. 136), "il fine della mirabile
visione : mostrare che Madonna Maria e dal poeta ritenuta un essere celeste

go GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

These Trionfi were written before the Trionfi of Petrarch,
and their true source is to be found not in any of Petrarch's
work, but in the Divine Comedy and in the sources Dante
used.1 Boccaccio has evidently studied the great poem
very closely. He imitates it not only in motives and
symbols and words, but, as we have seen, in the form of his
verse, and to some extent in the construction of his poem,
which consists of fifty capitoli, each composed of twenty-
nine terzine and a verse of chiusa, that is of eighty-eight
verses in each.

The first edition was published in Milan in 1521 with
an Apologia contro ai detrattori della poesia del Boccaccio
by Girolamo Claricio of Imola. No translation has ever
been made.2

We turn now to the Fiamnietta? which must have been
the last of the works directly concerned with his passion for
Maria d' Aquino. Crescini4 thinks it was written in 1343,
but others5 assure us that it is later work.6 Crescini's
argument is, however, so formidable that we shall do
better to accept his conclusions and to consider the
Fiammetta as a work of this first Florentine period.

sceso dall' alto alia salute di lui, che errava perduto e sordo a' consigli delle
ragione fra le mondane vanita. Per farsi degno dell' amore di lei e delle
gioie di questo amore, egli ormai seguira una virtu finora negletta, la fortezza
resistera, cioe alle passioni e alle vanita mondane ; e cosi per 1' influsso morale
della sua donna procedera sulla strada faticosa, che mena !' uomo al cielo."

1 He borrows from Brunetto Latini's Tesoretto {ca. 1294) certain inventions
and moral symbols. Cf. Dobelli, // culto del B. per Dante (Venezia, 1897),
pp. 51-9.

2 But see Landau, op. cit. (Ital. Trans.), p. 155.

3 Note the beautiful names Boccaccio always found ; especially the beautiful
women's names. We shall find this again in the Decameron.

4 Crescini, op. cit., p. 154.

8 e.q: Landau {op. cit., pp. 346, 404) and Koerting {op. cit,, pp. 170-
1, 568).

6 Baldelli {op. cit.) thinks, however, that it was written 1344-5, after
B.'s return to Naples, and Renier {La Vita Nuova e La Fiawmetta,Torino,
1879, PP« 245-6) agrees with him.

THE FIAMMETTA 91

Though concerned with the same subject, his love, the
allegory is worth noting, for while in all the other books
concerned with Fiammetta he assures us he was betrayed
by her, here he asserts that Panfilo (himself) betrayed
Fiammetta ! Moreover, he warns us that here he speaks
the truth,1 but in fact it is only here he is a liar. It is im-
possible to believe that every one had not penetrated his
various disguises, and he must have known that this was,
and would be, so. Wishing, then, both to revenge and to
vindicate himself — for his " betrayal " still hurt him keenly
— and guessing that Fiammetta would read the book, he
tells us that it was he who left her, not she him. The book
then is very amusing for us who are behind the scenes, as
it was, doubtless, for many of those who read it in
his day.

The action is very simple, the story being told by Fiam-
metta as though it were an autobiography. It begins with
a dream in which Fiammetta is warned that great un-
happiness is in store for her. She knows Panfilo,2 and
suddenly there arises between them an eager love.
Warned of the danger they run in entertaining so im-
petuous a passion, they yet take no heed ; till quite as
suddenly as it had begun, their love is broken. Panfilo
must go away, it seems, being recalled to Florence by his
old father. In vain Fiammetta tries to detain him ; she
can only obtain from him a promise that he will return to
Naples in four months. The ingenious lying in that !

All alone she passes her days and nights in weeping.
The four months pass and Panfilo does not come back to
her. One day she hears from a merchant that he has taken

1 " . . . Quantunque io scriva cose verissime sotto si fatto ordine 1' ho
disposte, che eccetto colui che cosi come io le sa, essendo di tutto cagione,
niuno altro, per quantunque avesse acuto 1' avvedimento, potrebbe chi io mi
fossi conoscere " (cap. i.).

2 " Pamphilius," writes Boccaccio, " groece, latine totus dicatur amor";
cf. Corazzini, op. cit., p. 269. Panfilo also appears, as does Fiammetta, in
the Decameron, as we shall see ; cf. Gigli, // Disegno dtl Decamerone
(Livorno, 1907), p. 24, note 4.

92 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

a wife in Florence. This news increases her agony, and
she asks aid of Venus. Then her husband, seeing her to
be ill, but unaware of the cause of her sufferings, takes her
to Baia ; but no distraction helps her, and Baia only
reminds her of the bygone days she spent there with
Panfilo. At last she hears from a faithful servant come
from Florence that Panfilo has not taken a wife, that the
young woman in his house is the new wife of his old
father ; but it seems though he be unmarried he is in love
with another lady, which is even worse. New jealousy
and lamentations of Fiammetta. She refuses to be com-
forted and thinks only of death and suicide, and even tries
to throw herself from her window, but is prevented.
Finally the return of Panfilo is announced. Fiammetta
thanks Venus and adorns herself again. She waits ; but
Panfilo does not come, and at last she is reduced to
comforting herself by thinking of all those who suffer from
love even as she. The work closes with a sort of epilogue.

As a work of art the Fiammetta is the best thing
Boccaccio has yet achieved. The psychology is fine,
subtle, and full of insight, but not so dramatic nor so
simple and profound as that in the Filostrato. He shows
again that he understands a woman's innermost nature,
her continual doubts of herself, her gift of introspection.
The torment of soul that a deserted woman suffers, the
helpless fury of jealousy, are studied and explained with
marvellous knowledge and coolness. The husband, who,
ignorant of all, is so sorry for his wife's unhappiness, and
seeks to console and comfort her, really lives and is the
fine prototype of a lot of base work done later in which
the cruel absurdity of the situation and the ridiculous
figure he cuts who plays his part in it are insisted on. In
fact, in the Fiammetta we find many of the finest features
of the Decameron. It is the first novel of psychology
ever written in Europe.

The sources of the Fiammetta are hard and perhaps

mi^^L^^r^^M *. LAW

5JPPv>

gK^gittO

THE NINFALE FIESOLANO 93

impossible to trace. It seems to have no forbears.1 One
thinks of Ovid's Heroides, but that has little to do with it.
Among the minor works of Boccaccio it is the one that
has been most read. First published in Padova in 1472, it
was translated into English in 1587 by B. Young.2

From this intense psychological novel Boccaccio seems
to have turned away with a sort of relief, the relief the
poet always finds in mere singing, to the Ninfale Fiesolano.
Licentious, and yet full of a marvellous charm, full of that
love of nature, too, which is by no means a mere conven-
tion, the Ninfale Fiesolano is the most mature of his poems
in the vulgar tongue.

" Basterebbe," says Carducci,3 " Basterebbe, io credo, il
Ninfale Fiesolano perche non fosse negato al Boccaccio
1' onore di poeta anche in versi." It was probably begun
about 1342 in Florence, and finished in Naples in 1346.
The theme is still love :

"Amor mi fa parlar che m' e nel core
Gran tempo stato e fatto m' ha suo albergo,"

he tells us in the first lines. The story tells how the
shepherd AfTrico falls in love with Mensola, nymph of
Diana,4 and how the nymph, penitent for having broken
her vow of chastity, abandons the poor shepherd.5 In
desperation, AfTrico kills himself on the bank of the brook
that has witnessed their happiness and that is now called

1 Crescini, op. cit., pp. 155-6.

2 " Amorous Fiammetta, where is sette doune a catalogue of all and
singular passions of Love and Jealosie incident to an enamoured young
gentlewoman" . . . done into English by B. Giovano [i.e. B. Young].
London, 1587. The only example I can find of this translation is in the
Bodleian Library ; the British Museum has no copy.

3 Carducci, At Parenteli di G. B. in Discorsi Lelterari e Storici
(Bologna, 1889), p. 275.

4 Ninfale Fiesolano (Moutier), p. i. ott. xiv.-xxxiii.

5 Ibid., p. vi. ott. i.-v.

94 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

ArTrico after him j1 and Mensola, after bearing a son, is
changed too into the stream Mensola hard by.2 Pruneo,
their offspring, when he is eighteen years old, enters the
service of Atlas, founder of Fiesole, who marries him to
Tironea. She receives as dote the country between the
Mensola and the Mugnone.3

The sources he drew from for this beautiful poem, so full
of learning, but fuller still of a genuine love of nature,
prove to us that it was, in its completeness, a mature work.
It is derived in part from the Metamorphoses of Ovid, from
the jEneid, and from Achilles Tatius, a Greek romancer of
Alexandria who lived in the fifth century A.D.4 Moreover,
the Ninfale is a pastoral poem that is in no way at all
concerned with chivalry ; it is wholly Latin, full of nature
and the bright fields, expressed with a Latin rhetoric.
Curiously enough it has never had much success, especially
out of Italy ; and though it be voluptuous, it is by no
means the immoral book it has been called.

This, as we have seen, is the third poem which Boccaccio
wrote in ottave, and it has been stated, not without insis-
tence, that he was in fact the inventor, or at any rate the
renewer, of that metre in Italian.5

The truth seems to lie with Baldelli. The Sicilians had

1 Ninfale Fiesolano, ed. cil., p. vi. ott. xxx.-xlv.

2 Ibid., p. vii. ott. iii.-vi. and ix.-xiii. The Mensola and the Affrico
are two small streams that descend from Monte Ceceri, one of the Fiesolan
hills, and are lost in the Arno, one not far from the Barriera Settignanese,
the other by Ponte a Mensola, near Settignano.

3 Ibid., p. vii. ott. xxxiii.-xlix.

4 See his romance, Leucippe and Clectophon, Lib. VIII, cap. 12.

5 For the ottava in Italy see Rajna, Lefonti dell' Orlando Furioso (San-
soni, Florence, 1900), pp. 18-19. Baldelli, op. cit., p. 33, however, did not
go so far as Trissino and Crescimbeni in such an assertion, contenting himself
with assuring us that Boccaccio " colla Teseide aperse la nobile carriera de'
romanzeschi poemi, degli epici, per cui posteriormente tanto sopravanzo 1'
Italiana ogni straniera letteratura. II suo ingegno creatore correggendo, e
migliorando 1' ottava de' Siciliani, che non usavan comporla con piu di due
rime e una terza aggiungendone, per cui tanto leggiadramente si chiude e
tanto vaga si rende, trovo quel metro su cui cantarono e gli Ariosti, e i Tassi
vanamente sperando trovarne altro piu adeguato agli altissimi e nobilissimi
loro argomenti."

THE NINFALE FIESOLANO 95

written ottave, but they had but two rimey and were akin
to those of the Provencals. What Boccaccio did was to
take this somewhat arid scheme and give it life by re-
forming it out of all recognition. Moreover, if he was not
actually the first poet to write ottave in Italian, he was the
first to put them to epic use. There are in fact, properly
speaking, no Italian epics before the poems of Boccaccio.

As for the Ninfale Fiesolano, it was first published in
Venice in 1477 by Bruno Valla and Tommaso d' Alessan-
dria. It has only been translated once — into French — by
Anton Guercin du Crest, who published it in Lyons in
1556 at the shop of Gabriel Cotier. This was apparently
the last poem on which Boccaccio was engaged — though
it may have been put aside for the sake of the Fiammetta,
and taken up again — before, about 1344, it seems, he re-
turned to Naples.

CHAPTER VI

1341-1343

IN FLORENCE— HIS FATHER'S SECOND MARRIAGE— THE
DUKE OF ATHENS

THOSE years which Boccaccio spent in Florence
between 1341 and 1345, and which would seem
for the most part to have been devoted to
literature, the completion of the works already
begun in Naples, the composition of the Amoroso, Visione,
the Fiammetta, and the Ninfale Fiesolano, were personally
among the most unhappy of his life, while publicly they
brought the republic of Florence to the verge of ruin.
And indeed he was an unwilling victim. That he hated
leaving Naples might seem obvious from his own circum-
stances at that time ; nor were the political conditions
of Florence encouraging. He had left a city friendly
to men of letters, full of all manner of splendour, rich,
peaceful, and, above all, governed by one authority, the
king, for a distracted republic divided against itself and
scarcely able to support a costly foreign war.1 Nor were the
conditions of his father's house any more pleasing to him.

1 Cf. Fiammetta, ed. cit.^ cap. ii. p. 45, where by the mouth of Fiam-
metta his apprehensions are expressed. " La tua citta [Florence]," she says
to him, "as you yourself have already said, is full of boastful voices and of
cowardly deeds, and she serves not a thousand laws, but even as many, it
seems, as she has men. She is at war within and without, so that a citizen is
like a foreigner, he trembles. She is furnished with proud, avaricious, and
envious people, and full of innumerable anxieties. And all this your soul
abhors. Now the city you would leave is, as you know, joyful, peaceful,
rich, and magnificent, and lives under one sole king ; the which things I
know well are pleasing to you. And besides all these, I am here ; but you will
not find me whither you go."

1341-43] IN FLORENCE 97

Soured by misfortune, Boccaccino seems at this time to
have been a melancholy and hard old man. The picture
Giovanni gives us of him is perhaps coloured by resent-
ment, and indeed he had never forgiven his father for the
desertion of the girl he had seduced, the little French girl
Jeanne, Giovanni's mother;1 but it is with a quite personal
sense of resentment he describes the home to which he
returned from Naples — that house in the S. Felicita quarter
which Boccaccino had bought in 1333 :2 " Here one laughs
but seldom. The dark, silent, melancholy house keeps
and holds me altogether against my will, where the dour
and terrible aspect of an old man frigid, uncouth, and
miserly continually adds affliction to my saddened
mood."3 That was in 1341 one may think; and no
doubt the loss of Fiammetta, his own poverty, and the
confusion of public affairs in Florence added to his
depression ; and then he was always easily cast down.
But as it happened, things were already improving for
him.

It will be remembered that in the romance which

1 In Ameto, ed. cit., p. 187, when Ibrida tells his story, he says his father
was unworthy of such a mistress: "Ma il mio padre siccome indegno di
tale sposa traendolo i fati, s' ingegno d' annullare i fatti sacramenti, e le
'mpromesse convenzioni alia mia madre. Ma gli Iddii non curantisi di
perdere la fede di si vile ttomo, con abbondante redine riserbando le loro
vendette a giusto tempo, il lasciarono fare ; e quello che la mia madre gli era
si fece falsamente d' un altra nelle sue parti. La qual cosa non prima senti la
sventurata giovane, dal primo per isciagurata morte, e dal secondo per
falsissima vita abbandonata, che i lungamente nascosi fuochi fatti palesi co'
ricevuti inganni, chuise gli occhi e del mondo a lei mal fortunoso, si rende
agli Iddii. Ma Giunone ne Imeneo non porsero alcuno consentimento a'
secondi fatti, benche chiamati vi fossero ; anzi esecrando la adultera giovane
con lo 'ngannevole uomo, e verso loro con giuste ire accendendosi, prima
privatolo di gran parte de' beni ricevuti da lei, e dispostolo a maggiore ruina
a morte la datrice, la data e la ricevuta progenie dannarono con infallibile
sentenzia, visitando con nuovi danni chi a tali effetti porse alcuna cagione."
Cf. also Ameto, ed. cit., p. 252 et seq., and Fiam??iettai ed. cit., cap. ii. p. 42.

2 On the different houses of Boccaccino in Florence, see an unpublished
MS. by Gherardi, La Villeggiatura di Maiano, which I believe to be in the
Florentine archives. A copy is in the possession of Mrs. Ross, of Poggio
Gherardo, near Florence. From this copy I give cap. iv. of the MS. in
Appendix III.

5 Ameto, ed. cit., p. 254.

98 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO re-

passes under her name Fiammetta tells us that Panfilo
(Giovanni), when he deserted her, promised to return in
four months. Later1 she says, when the promised time of
his return had passed by more than a month, she heard
from a merchant lately arrived in Naples that her lover
fifteen days before had taken a wife in Florence.2 Great
distress on the part of Fiammetta ; but, as she soon learnt,
it was not Giovanni, but his father, who had married him-
self.

Is there any truth in this story? Assuredly there is.
We know, indeed, that Boccaccino did marry a second wife,
whose name was Bice de' Bostichi, and that she bore him
a son, Jacopo ;3 but we do not know when either of these
events happened. If we may trust the Fiammetta, which
says clearly that Giovanni's father married again about
five months after his son returned home, and if we are
right in thinking that that return took place in January,
1 341, then Boccaccino married his second wife in the

1 Fiammetta^ ed. cit., cap. v. p. 63 : " Quando di piu d' un mese essendo
il promesso tempo passato."

2 Ibid., p. 64. Fiammetta asks : " How long ago had you news of him ?"
"It is about fifteen days," says the merchant, "since I left Florence."
"And how was he then?" " Very well; and the same day that I set out,
newly entered his house a beautiful young woman who, as I heard, had just
married him."

3 Cf. Baldelli, op. cit., p. 276, n. I: "26 Januarii, 1349 [i.e. 1350
according to our reckoning]. Dominus Ioannes quondam Boccacci, populi
Sanctce Felicitatis, tutor Iacobi pupilli ejus fratris, et filii quondam et heredis
Dominse Bicis olim matris suae, et uxoris q. dicti Boccaccii et filige q.
Ubaldini Nepi de Bosticcis." This document, which gives us the name of
Boccaccino's second wife, tells us also that Giovanni was his brother's guar-
dian and governor in January, 1350. Crescini had already suggested {op.
cit., p. 102 n.), following Baldelli, that the Lia of the Ameto was a Baroncelli
when Sanesi (C7n documento inedito su Giovanni Boccaccio in Rassegna
Bibliografica delta Lett. Ital. (Pisa, 1893), An. I, No. 4, p. 120 et sea.) proved
it to be so, giving a genealogical table : —

Giierardo Baroncelli

I
Donna Love = Baldino di Nepo de' Bostichi

I I

Gherardo Bice = Boccaccino

I
Jacopo

\ \ \

CALAN
DRINO

THE THEFT OF CALANDRINO's PIG (DEC. VIII, 6)

GHINO AND THE ABBOT (DEC. X, 2)

Woodcuts from the " Decameron" (Venice, 1492-)

1343] IN FLORENCE 99

spring, or more precisely in May, 1341. That they were
man and wife in May, 1343,1 we know, for, thanks to
Crescini, we have a document which proves it. Beyond
that fact all is conjecture in this matter. Yet it is signifi-
cant that we find Boccaccino, on December 13, 1342,
acquiring half a house in the popolo di S. Ambrogio in
Florence,2 and yet, as we know from the document just
quoted,3 in May, 1343, he was still living in popolo di
S. Felicita.4 For what possible reason could Boccaccino,
ruined as he was, want half a house in which he did not
propose to live? Had family history repeated itself?
Was Giovanni in some sort again turned out of his
father's house by his second stepmother as he had been
by the first, and for a like reason — the birth of a legiti-
mate son ? It was for him, then, that Boccaccino bought
the half-house in popolo di S. Ambrogio, and the occasion
was the birth of Jacopo his son by Madonna Bice? It is
possible, at any rate ; and when we remember the efforts
the old man had already made in his poverty for the com-
fort of a son who had disappointed him in everything, it
seems more than likely. Nor can we but accuse Giovanni
of ingratitude when we think of his constant allusions to
his father's avarice and remember these benefits.5

Such, then, are the few and meagre personal events that
have in any way come down to us of Boccaccio's life while
he was writing all or nearly all those works of his youth
which we have already examined, between his return to
Florence in January, 1341, and his departure once more
for Naples in 1344 or 1345.

1 Cf. Crescini, op. cit., p. 155, note 3. Arch. Stat. Fior. (Archivio della
Grascia Prammatica del 1343) : "1343. die Maij Domina Bice uxor Boccaccij
de Certaldo populi S. Felicitatis habet guarnaccham de camecha coloris pur-
purini," etc.

2 See Appendix III, MS. of Gherardi.
1 See supra, n. r.

4 Boccaccino still possessed the house in popolo di S. Felicita when he
died. See supra, p. 98, n. 3.

5 It must be remembered that in 1343 Giovanni was thirty years old.

ioo GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1341-

These years, materially none too happy for him but full
after all of successful work, were disastrous for Florence.
That tranquillity and internal peace which so happily fol-
lowed the death of Castruccio Castracani and of Charles of
Calabria in 1328, in which, among other splendid things,
Giotto's tower was built, had been broken in 1340, when the
grandi, who held the government, having grown oppressive,
a rebellion headed by Piero de' Baldi and Bardo Fresco-
baldi was only crushed by a rising of the people. Things
were quiet then for a moment, but the grandi would heed
no warning, and as one might expect, their insolence grew
with their power. Nor was it only at home that things were
going unhappily for Florence. When Louis of Bavaria,
who claimed the empire against the will of the Pope, left
Italy — it was the Visconti who had called him across the
Alps in fear of the House of Anjou — some of his Germans,
after Castruccio's death, seized Lucca and offered to sell it
to the Florentines, who refused it. They repented later ; and
when it had come into the hands of Martino della Scala
of Verona and Parma, who, in straits himself on account of
Visconti, offered to sell it again, they found a competitor
in Pisa, who was ready to dispute the city with them.
Nevertheless they bought it, only to find that the Pisans,
knowing the wealth of Florence and expecting this, had sat
down before it. A war followed in which nothing but dis-
honour came the way of Florence, and Lucca fell into the
hands of Pisa. This so enraged the Florentines that they
rose against the grandi, who, at their wits' end what to do.
asked their old ally Robert of Naples for help. This was
in 1 341. It was not, therefore, to a very prosperous or
joyful city that Boccaccio returned from Naples ; the
words he put into the mouth of Fiammetta1 were fully
justified.

King Robert, however, did not send help to Florence at
once. He was thinking always of Sicily and had been busy

1 Cf. Fiammetta, ed. cit., cap. ii. p. 45, already quoted supra, p. 96, note I,

343] IN FLORENCE 101

vith the conquest of the Lipari Islands,1 but when he did
;end it, in the person of Walter, Duke of Athens and
3ount of Brienne, a French baron, it proved to be the
vorst disaster of all. Yet at first the Florentines rejoiced,
or they knew Walter of old, who had been vicegerent in
Florence for Charles of Calabria in 1325, and as Machiavelli
;ells us, his behaviour had been so modest that every one
oved him. That was not his attitude now, nor does it
:ally with Boccaccio's lively account of him,2 which cer-
:ainly reads like the work of an eye-witness and supports
)ur belief that he was in Florence during 1342 and 1343 —
:hose disastrous years.

For as it happened, the Duke arrived in Florence at the
/cry time when the enterprise of Lucca was utterly lost.
The grandi, however, hoping to appease the people, at
)nce made him Conservator and later General. But they
lad alienated every one. The nobili, long since their
enemies, had always maintained a correspondence with
:he Duke ever since he had been vicegerent for Charles of
Calabria ; they thought now that their chance was come
when they might be avenged alike on the grandi and the
people ; so they pressed him to take the government
wholly into his hands. The people, on the other hand,
smarting under new taxes and oppression and insolence
and defeat, to a large extent joined the nobili against the
grandi. In this conspiracy we find all the names of the
^reat popular families, Peruzzi, Acciaiuoli, Antellesi, and
Buonaccorsi, whom the unsuccessful war, among other
things, had ruined, and who hoped thus to free themselves
from their creditors.

The Duke's ambition, being thus pampered and exasper-

1 Gio. Villani, Lib. XI, cap. 137.

2 See the De Casibus Virorum Ilhistrium, Lib. IX, cap. 24 ; cf. Hortis,
Studi, etc., pp. 127-8. A translation in verse of the De Casibus wa6 made by
Lydgate, The Fall of Princes, first printed by Pynson in 1494 ; later editions,
'5*7i 1554 (Tottel), and John Wayland's, 1558. There is no modern edition.
It is a disgrace to our two universities that no modern edition of Lydgate has
been published.

102 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO del-

ated, over-reached itself. To please the people he put to
death those who had the management of the war, Giovanni
de' Medici, Nardo Rucellai, and Guglielmo Altoviti, and
banished some and fined others. And thus his reputation
was increased, and indeed a general fear of him spread
through the city, so that to show their affection towards
him people caused his arms to be painted upon their
houses, and nothing but the bare title was wanting to
make him their Prince.

Being now sure of his success, he caused it to be
signified to the Government that for the public good he
judged it best that they should transfer their authority
upon him, and that he desired their resignation. At first
they refused, but when by proclamation he required all the
people to appear before him in the Piazza di S. Croce (for
he was living in the convent as a sign of his humility), they
protested, and then consented that the government should
be conferred upon him for a year with the same conditions
as those with which it had been formerly given to Charles
of Calabria.

So on September 8, 1342, the Duke, accompanied by
Giovanni della Tosca and many citizens, came into the
Piazza della Signoria with the Senate, and, mounting on
the Rhingiera, he caused the articles of agreement between
him and the Senate to be read. Now when he who read
them came to the place where it was written that the
government should be his for a year, the people cried out,
" For his life. For his life." It is true, Francesco
Rustichesi, one of the Signori, rose up and tried to speak,
but they would not hear him. Thus the Duke was chosen
lord by consent of the people not for a year, but for ever ;
and afterwards he was taken and carried through the
multitude with general acclamation. Now the first thing
he did was to seize the Palazzo della Signoria, where he
set up his own standard, while the Palazzo itself was
plundered by his servants ; and all this was done to the

W3] IN FLORENCE 103

satisfaction of those who maliciously or ignorantly had
consented to his exaltation.

The Duke was no sooner secure in his dominion than he
forbade the Signori to meet in the Palazzo, recalled the
Baldi and the Frescobaldi, made peace with the Pisans,
and took away their bills and assignments from the
merchants who had lent money in the war of Lucca.
He dissolved the authority of the Signori and set up in
their place three Rettori, with whom he constantly advised.
The taxes he laid upon the people were great, all his
judgments were unjust, and all men saw his cruelty and
pride, while many citizens of the more noble and wealthy
sort were condemned, executed, and tortured. He was
jealous of the nobili, so he applied himself to the people,
cajoling them and scheming into their favour, hoping thus
to secure his tyranny for ever. In the month of May, for
instance, when the people were wont to be merry, he
caused the common people to be disposed into several
companies, gave them ensigns and money, so that half the
city went up and down feasting and junketing, while the
other half was busy to entertain them. And his fame
grew abroad, so that many persons of French extraction
repaired to him, and he preferred them all, for they were his
faithful friends ; so that in a short while Florence was not
only subject to Frenchmen, but to French customs and
garb, men and women both, without decency or modera-
tion, imitating them in all things. But that which was
incomparably the most displeasing was the violence he
and his creatures used to the women. In these conditions
it is not surprising that plots to get rid of him grew and
multiplied. He cared not. When Matteo di Morrozzo, to
ingratiate himself with the Duke, discovered to him a
plot which the Medici had contrived with others against
him, he caused him to be put to death. And when
Bettone Cini spoke against the taxes he caused his tongue
to be pulled out by the roots so that he died of it. Such

io4 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [mi*

was his cruelty and folly. But indeed this last outrage
completed the rest. The people grew mad, for they who
had been used to speak of everything freely could not
brook to have their mouths stopped up by a stranger.
" When," asks Machiavelli, " did the Florentines know
how to maintain liberty or to endure slavery?" However,
things were indeed at such a pass that the most servile
people would have tried to recover its freedom.

Many citizens of every sort, we hear, resolved to destroy
him, and out of this hatred grew three serious conspiracies
by three sorts of people : the grandz, the people, and the
arti. The grandi hated him for he had robbed them of
the government, the people because he had not given it to
them, the arti because they were ruined. With the first
were concerned the Bardi, Rossi, Frescobaldi, Scali, Altoviti,
Mazalotti, Strozzi, and Mancini, with the Archbishop of
Florence ; with the second, Manno and Corso Donati, the
Pazzi, Cavicciulli, Cerchi, and Albizzi ; with the third,
Antonio Adimari, the Medici, Bordini, Rucellai, and
Aldobrandini.

The plan was to kill him on the feast of S. John
Baptist, June 24, 1343, in the house of the Albizzi,
whither, as it was thought, he would go to see the patio.1

1 Cf. W. Heywood, Palio and Ponte (Methuen, 1904), pp. 7-9. These
races or palii seem to have originated in the thirteenth century (cf. Villani,
Cronica, Lib. I, cap. 60, and Dante, Paradiso, xvi. 40-2). Benvenuto da Imola
says: "Est de more Florentine, quod singulis annis in festo Iohannis
Baptists currant equi ad brevium in signum festivas laetitiae. ..." He
goes on to say that the race was run from S. Pancrazio, the western ward of
the city, through the Mercato Vecchio, to the eastern ward of S. Piero.
Goro di Stazio Dati, who died in 1435, tnus describes thef>a/io of S. John
in Florence. I quote Mr. Heywood's excellent redaction from Dati's Storia
di Firenze (Florence, 1735), PP- ^4~9' m h^s Po-Ho and Ponte, u.s. "...
Thereafter, dinner being over, and midday being past, and the folk having
rested awhile according to the pleasure of each of them ; all the women and
girls betake themselves whither the horses which run the palio will pass. Now
these pass through a straight street, through the midst of the city, where are
many dwellings, beautiful, sumptuous houses of good citizens, more than in any
other part thereof. And from one end of the city to the other, in that straight
street which is full of flowers, are all the women and all the jewels and rich
adornments of the city ; and it is a great holiday. Also there are always many
lords and knights and foreign gentlemen, who come every year from the sur-

THE EXECUTION OF F1LIPPA LA CATANESE
From miniatures in the French version of the "De Casibus Virorum. "
made in 140Q by Laurent le Premier/ait.
(Brit. Mns. Rothschild Bequest.

MS. late XV
MS. XII.)

century.

1343] IN FLORENCE 105

But he went not and that design was lost. The next pro-
posal was to kill him as he walked in the streets, but that
was found difficult, because he was always well armed and
attended and, moreover, very uncertain. Then it was
debated to slay him in the Council, but this too was
dangerous, for even should they succeed they would remain
at the mercy of his guards. Suddenly all was discovered.
The Duke learnt of the plots through the quite innocent
action of a Sienese. He was both surprised and angry ;
and that is strange. At first he proposed to kill every
man of all the families I have named ; but he had not
force enough to do it openly, so he in his turn plotted.
He called the chief citizens to council, meaning to slay
them there. But they got wind of it, and knowing not
whom to trust, confessed at last to one another their three
conspiracies and swore to stand together and get rid of the
Duke.

Their plan was this : the next day, as it happened, was
the feast of S. Anne, July 26, 1343, and they decided
that then a tumult should be raised in the Mercato
Vecchio, upon which all were to take arms and excite the

rounding towns to see the beauty and magnificence of that festival. And
! there, through the said Corso, are so many folk that it seemeth a thing
i incredible, the like whereof he who hath not seen it could neither believe nor
imagine. Thereafter, the great bell of the Palagio de' Signori is tolled three
times, and the horses, ready for the start, come forth to run. On high upon the
tower, may be seen, by the signs made by the boys who are up there, that is of
such an one and that of such an one {quello e~ del tale, e quello e del tale).
And all the most excellent race-horses of the world are there, gathered to-
gether from all the borders of Italy. And that one which is the first to reach
the Palio is the one which winneth it. Now the Palio is borne aloft upon a
triumphal car, with four wheels, adorned with four carven lions which seem
alive, one upon every side of the car, drawn by two horses, with housings with the
emblem of the Commune thereon, and ridden by two varlets which guide them.
The same is a passing rich and great Palio of fine crimson velvet in two palii,
and between the one and the other a band of fine gold a palm's width, lined
with fur from the belly of the ermine and bordered with miniver fringed with
silk and fine gold ; which, in all, costeth three hundred florins or more. ...
All the great piazza of S. Giovanni and part of the street is covered with blue
hangings with yellow lilies ; the church is a thing of marvellous form, whereof
I shall speak at another time. ..." Boccaccio must often have seen these
: races. Cf. Decameron, Day VI, Nov. 3.

106 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [134*

people to liberty. And the next day, the signal being
given by sounding a bell as had been agreed, all took
arms and, crying out, " Liberty, liberty," excited the people,
who took arms likewise. The Duke, alarmed at this noise,
fortified himself in the Palazzo and then, calling home his
servants who were lodged through the city, set forth with
them to the Mercato. Many times were they assaulted on
the way and many too were slain, so that though recruited
with three hundred horse he knew not himself what to do.
Meantime the Medici, Cavicciulli, and Rucellai, who were
afraid lest he should attack, drawing together a force,
advanced so that many of those who had stood for the
Duke rallied over to their side, and though the Duke was
again reinforced, yet was he beaten and went backward
into the Palazzo. Meanwhile Corso and Amerigo Donati
with part of the people broke up the prisons, burned the
records of the Potesta, sacked the houses of the rettori^ and
killed all the Duke's officers they could meet with. And
the Duke remained besieged in the Palazzo. Has not
Boccaccio told us the story : —

" Upon a day they armyd in stele bright
Magnates first with comons of the toun
All of assent roos up anon right
Gan to make an hydous soun :
Late sle this tyrant, late us pull him doun.
Leyde a syege by mighty violence
Aforn his paleys where he lay in Florence."1

While the Duke was thus besieged, the citizens to give
some form to their government met in S. Reparata (S. Marie
del Fiore) and created fourteen of their number, half grand,
half people, to rule with the Bishop. Then the Duke askec
for a truce. They refused it, except Guglielmo of Assisi
with his son, and Cerrettieri Bisdomini, who had alwayj
been of his party, should be delivered into their hands
This for long the Duke refused, but at last, seeing no wa)

1 Lydgate, op. cit., Lib. IX.

1343] IN FLORENCE 107

out, he consented. " Greater, doubtless," says Machiavelli,
' is the insolence and contumacy of the people and more
dreadful the evils which they do in pursuit of liberty
than when they have acquired it." So it proved here.
Guglielmo and his son were brought forth and delivered
up among thousands of their enemies. His son was a
youth of less than eighteen years ; yet that did not spare
him nor his beauty neither. Those who could not get near
enough to do it whilst he was alive wounded him when he
was dead ; and as if their swords had been partial and too
moderate, they fell to it with their teeth and their hands,
biting his flesh and tearing it in pieces. And that all
their senses might participate in their revenge, having
feasted their ears upon groans, their eyes upon wounds,
their touch upon the bowels of their enemies which they
rent out of their bodies with their hands, they regaled their
taste also. Those two gentlemen, father and son, were
eaten in the Piazza; only Cerrettieri escaped, for the people,
being tired, forgot him altogether and left him in the
Palazzo not so much as demanded, and the next night he
was conveyed out of the city.

Satiated thus with blood, they suffered the Duke to
depart peacefully on August 6, attended by a host of
citizens who saw him on the way to the Casentino, where,
in fact, though unwillingly it seems, he ratified the renun-
ciation.

And all these things befell in Florence while Giovanni
Boccaccio was writing in the popolo di S. Felicita and in
the popolo di S. Ambrogio in the years 1341, 1342, and
1343. In 1344, as we may believe, Boccaccio returned to
Naples.

CHAPTER VII

i 344-1 346

IN NAPLES— THE ACCESSION OF GIOVANNA— THE MURDER
OF ANDREW OF HUNGARY — THE VENGEANCE

THOSE three years of tumult in Florence can-
not but have made a profound impression on
a man like Boccaccio. " Florence is full of
boastful voices and cowardly deeds," he writes
in the Fiamrnetta, while his account of the Duke in the
De Casibus Virorum Illustrium tells us clearly enough
what he thought of that business. Was it the public con-
fusion in Florence that sent him back to Naples in 1344
or 1345,1 on an invitation from Niccolo Acciaiuolo, or just
a hope of seeing once more Madonna Fiammetta, whom,
as we have seen, even amid the dreadful excitement of
those three years, he had never been able really to forget
for a moment ? We shall never know ; but if it were any
expectation of peace or hope of finding in that far city the

1 We do not know when, if at all at this time, Boccaccio returned to
Naples. The only testimony by which Baldelli, Witte, and Koerting hold
that he was in Naples in 1345 is the passage in the De Casibus Virorum
Illustrium, Lib. IX, cap. 25, where he narrates, as though he had been
present on the occasion, the terrible end of Philippa la Catanese (see infra).
Witte, however, wishes to support this evidence by an interpretation
of certain words in the letter to Zanobi, Longum tempus effluxit (see Coraz-
zini, op. cit. , p. 33). Hortis, Gaspary, and Hauvette, however, assert that
in the De Casious, u.s., Boccaccio does not actually say he was present on the
occasion mentioned, but only says, qua fere vidi, while the passage in the
letter to Zanobi, they say, refers to Acciaiuoli. Lastly, Hecker observes that
the words of Boccaccio seem to prove that he was in Naples in 1345. In fact,
speaking of the condemnation and torture of the Catanese as accomplice in
the assassination of King Andrew he says: "quaedam auribus, quoedam
oculis sumpta meis describam."

108

.344-6] IN NAPLES 109

Md splendour and gaiety he had once enjoyed there, he
must indeed have been disappointed. Already, before he
returned to Florence in 134.1, the rule of King Robert, who
was then in his last years, had weakened ; and factions were
already forming which, when the wise king passed away,
were not slow to divide the city against itself. No doubt
the splendid reception offered to Petrarch, the gaiety of all
that, served to hide the dangerous condition of affairs, which
was not rendered less insecure by the fact that King
Robert's heir was a girl still in her first youth, Giovanna
the beautiful, daughter of Charles of Calabria.

u Giovanna Regina
Grassa ne magra, bella el viso tondo
Dotata bene de la virtu divina
D' animo grato, benigno, jocondo." !

So sang the poets, and that the painters were not less
enthusiastic is proved by the frescoes in S. Maria dell'
Incoronata.

In 1342 Giovanna was entering her seventeenth year,
while Andrew of Hungary, her betrothed, was but fifteen.
On Easter Day in that year King Robert invested him
with the insignia of knighthood, and four days later he
was to have been married to the Princess, but the death
first of Pope Benedict (April 25th), and then of the King
of Hungary, his father (July 15th), prevented the cere-
mony, so that it was not till August that it could take
place, and then quite suddenly King Robert the Wise died,
aged sixty-four, on January 19th, 1343. In the frock of
a Franciscan tertiary they buried him in S. Chiara, behind
the high altar, and Sancius and Johannes of Florence
presently built there the great and beautiful tomb we
know.2

1 See Arch. St. per la prov. Nap., An. V, p. 617. For an excellent account
of King Robert's reign, as of Giovanna's, see Baddeley, King Robert the
Wise and His Heirs (Heinemann, 1881). It is a good defence of the Queen.

2 Gio. Villani, who did not love the Angevins, tells us that King Robert
was full of every virtue, admitting, however, that in his last years he was very

no GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1344-

" Pastorum Rex Argus erat : cui lumina centum
Lyncea, cui centum vigiles cum sensibus aures
Centum artes, centumque manus, centumque lacerti
Lingua sed una fuit." l

So said Petrarch.

Now by his Will, as was inevitable, Robert appointed
his granddaughter Giovanna his successor and heiress to
all his dominions — including Provence and most of his
Piedmontese possessions ; he left her too the unrestored
island of Sicily and the title of Jerusalem. In case of her
death all was to pass to Maria her sister, who later married
the Duke of Durazzo. During Giovanna's minority and
that of her husband Andrew of Hungary, which were to
last till they were twenty-five, the Will vested the
government in a Supreme Council which was in fact
dominated by the Dowager Queen Sancia, and was com-
posed of Philip de Cabassoles, Bishop of Cavaillon, vice-
chancellor of the realm on behalf of the suzerain Holy
See, Charles d'Artois, Count of S. Agata, natural son of
King Robert, Goffredo Marzano, Count of Squillace,
admiral of the Kingdom, and Filippo di Sanguinetto,
Count of Altomonte, seneschal in Provence. It thus
appears that the intention of the King was to keep the
throne in his own line, certainly not to make Andrew of
Hungary king in Naples. The two branches of his house
had had, it will be remembered, almost equal rights to the
throne, and if Clement V for his own good had decided in
favour of the younger branch, that is in favour of Robert,
though Charles Martel of Hungary, Andrew's father, sub-
mitted to the Papal decision, Robert had thought it

avaricious ; and in this he agrees with Boccaccio. He says, however, tha
he was the wisest monarch of Christendom after Charlemagne. Boccaccio too
calls him Solomon. In a poem attributed to Convenevole da Prato he is
hailed as the sovereign of United Italy. But it is to Petrarch he owes his
fame. Robert was a great patron of the Franciscans, then utterly rotten.
Boccaccio doubtless saw enough in Naples to give him justification for his
stories later. See infra.
1 Petrarch, Egloga, II.

„

CIMOX AXD IPHEGENIA. (DEC. V, I)
From a miniature in the French version of \the "Decameron" made m ,414 by
Laurent le Fremierfait. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Mus. Rothschild Bequest.

«6]

IN NAPLES

rudent to make voluntarily a kind of composition of his

ghts and the claims of his brothers in arranging the

larriage between Andrew his nephew and his grand-

auditer Giovanna. It will thus be seen that Giovanna's

larriage was a political act designed to establish peace

etween the descendants of Charles d'Anjou.1 That no

eace but a sword came of it we shall see.

King Robert had not been dead many months when

le Hungarians, sure of Andrew's protection, began to

ock to Naples. They angered those who surrounded

le Queen and even the Queen herself by their insolence,

ad thus the court was divided into two parties, or rather

lere were two courts in one palace.

In the autumn of 1343 Petrarch was once more in

aples. In a letter to Barbato di Sulmona he pays

, 1 eloquent tribute to King Robert, and at the same

me states his reasons for anxiety as to the condition

: f the Kingdom. " I fear as much from the youthfulness

: f the Queen and her consort as from the age and

i leas of the Queen Dowager ; but I am especially afraid

f the administration and manners of the court. Perhaps

am a bad prophet : I hope so. But I seem to see two

1 Here is the genealogical table :-

I
lungary

I
irles Martel

irles Robert

Charles I of Anjou, K. of Naples (1226-85)
Charles II = Mary of Hungary (1285-1309)

Naples

Robert

(1309-43)

Charles

Durazzo

I
John, D. of Durazzo

Taranto

I
Provence

Philip, P. of Taranto

Andrew = Giovanna Maria
(1343-82)

: Charles Louis

Louis Philip

m. Giovanna m. Maria

after Andrew's after Charles

death of Durazzo's
Margaret = Charles III death

K. of Naples

ii2 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO d34

lambs in the care of a pack of wolves. . . ." Touching c
the administration, Petrarch gives the following account
Fra Roberto, the Franciscan confessor of Andrew. '
encountered a deformed creature, barefooted, hoodie,
vainglorious in his poverty, degenerate through his se
suality ; in fact, a homunculus, bald and rubicund, wi
bloated limbs. . . . Would you hear his revered nam<
He is called ' Robert.' Yes, in the place of the noblest
kings, till lately the glory of our age, has arisen this Robe
who, on the contrary, will disgrace it. Nor will I henc
forth hold it a fable they relate of a serpent able to
generated from a buried corpse, since from the roy
sepulchre has issued this reptile." And indeed of all t
court he has a good word for Philip de Cabassoles onl
" he who alone stands up on the side of justice."

So much for the administration ; nor were the mannc
he found there any better, in his judgment. The whole ci
was divided against itself, and life was altogether insecu
The council is " compelled to end its sittings at sunset, i
the turbulent young nobles make the streets quite unsc
after dark. And what wonder if they are unruly ai
society corrupt, when the public authorities actual
countenance all the horrors of gladiatorial game
These disgusting exhibitions take place in open d;
before the court and populace in this city of Italy wi
more than barbaric ferocity."1

The vicious life of this and the following years in Nap]
is usually attributed to the example and influence
Queen Giovanna. In fact nothing can be further from t
truth. In King Robert's time the court life was, as 1
have seen, very far from being exemplary, but Giovan

1 I quote Mr. Hollway-Calthrop's redaction in his Petrarch (Methu
1907), p. 112. He adds: " Knowing nothing of what he was to see, Petra
was taken to a spectacle attended by the sovereigns in state ; suddenly, to
horror, he saw a beautiful youth killed for pastime, expiring at his feet, c
putting spurs to his horse, he fled at full gallop from the place." Th
gladiatorial games took place in Carbonara.

*6] IN NAPLES 113

erself was not weak and abandoned. Already Hungary
as pressing the claims of Andrew to equal if not superior
ower to hers. She never flinched for a moment ; from
le hour she perceived the way things were drifting she
etermined to win.

At first things seemed altogether against her. In June,
344, she wrote to Charles of Durazzo, her sister's husband,
filing him that Cardinal Aimeric, the Papal Legate, had
ntered her kingdom without her leave, and that there-
>re she and Andrew were gone to Aversa to meet him.
'here she made peace, acknowledged the Cardinal as
Legent, and admitted her crown to be held from the
loly See. Andrew signed her proclamation as a mere
witness.1 But this intrusion of the Papacy by no means
nproved chances of peace.

The coming of Andrew, with his Hungarian pretensions
nd those crowds of needy foreign place-hunters, angered
tie Neapolitan people it is true, but it infuriated the long-
stablished group of domestic functionaries in Castel
sTuovo, who in some sort had been confirmed in their
ffices by the Will of King Robert. The head of this court
•arty, as whole-heartedly against Andrew as it was against
he Pope, was Filippa la Catanese, now quite an old
/oman. Among her family were Raimondo the sen-
schal, Sancia de Cabannis, Contessa di Morcone, her
;randdaughter, wife of Carlo di Gambatesa, Roberto
le Cabannis, grand seneschal of the Kingdom, and his
vife. This group sided with Giovanna, and in its
•wn interest pushed her claims against those of Aimeric
nd Andrew. They were supported more or less in
ecret by Catherine of Taranto and her sons Robert
md Louis.

A storm was obviously brewing, and it must have been
ibout this time that Boccaccio returned to Naples, perhaps
>n the invitation of Niccolo Acciaiuoli, secretary and

1 Baddeley, op. cit,

ii4 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1344-

protege of Catherine of Taranto. No doubt he hoped to
see Fiammetta — no doubt he did see her, though what
came of it we shall never know ; but he found no more
peace in Naples than in Florence.

In February, 1345, the Pope removed Aimeric, who he
declared had succeeded in governing pacifice et quiete}
The Cardinal returned to Avignon, and moved in the
Consistory that Andrew be crowned king. He was sup-
ported by Durazzo. Giovanna appealed. The Pope
listened, but ordered that Filippa la Catanese, Sancia
Margherita, and others should be dismissed. From thai
moment the Catanesi plotted to murder Andrew.

It was the custom of the court (then, as it happened, ir
mourning for the Dowager Queen Sancia, who died Jul}
28, 1345) to spend the summer at one of the royal palace:
outside Naples. In July Giovanna, then with child, hac
gone with the court to Castellamare ; in September sh<
moved to Aversa. On the night of the i8th, the anniver
sary of Andrew's arrival in Naples, the Queen had retiree
early, and Andrew too had gone early to his room, whei
Tommaso, son of Mambriccio di Tropea, summoned hin
from his chamber into a passage leading toward the garder
on the pretence, as it is said, that messengers had arrivee
from Naples with important despatches. In that passage
way he was seized, gagged, and strangled, and his bod;
thrown into the garden, where it was discovered by hi
Hungarian nurse.2

1 He received beside his board and lodging 19,000 florins of gold 1
salary. These were not paid by the Pope, whose servant he was, but I
Queen Giovanna and the wretched Neapolitans. The amount was fixt
by the Pope. Cf. Baddeley, op. cit.

2 Cf. Baddeley, op. cit., p. 344. The Pope's account is as follow:;
" Immediately he was summoned by them he went into the gallery (
promenade which is before the chamber. Then certain men placed the
hands over his mouth so that he could not cry out, and in this act they .'
pressed their iron gauntlets that their print and character were manifest aft'
death. Others placed a rope round his neck in order to strangle him, ar
this likewise left its mark ; others vero receperunt eum pro genitalia, et ad<
traxerunt, quod multi qui dicebant se vidisse retulerunt mihi quod traD

346] IN NAPLES 115

It was at once whispered that the Queen was concerned
n the murder, and this rumour has been accepted as the
ruth even in our own day;1 but, in fact, there is little
•r nothing to substantiate it. Her account2 scarcely
lifters from that of the Pope, but adds that a man had
>een seized and executed for the crime. Then, after a
lay or two, the Queen left Aversa for Naples. Andrew's

• turse remained in her service and nursed her through her

i onfinement in December.

The murder of Andrew, whose handiwork soever, efTec-
ually divided the Kingdom into two parties, to wit those of
)urazzo and Taranto ; the former demanding punishment
»f the murderers. Two Cardinals, di S. Clemente and di
). Marco, were appointed by the Pope to rule in Naples
nd to exact vengeance. The Queen was helpless. On
December 25th her son was born and named Charles
Cartel. As time went on and none of the assassins were
•rought to justice, the Hungarians became furious, and at

mdebant genua, while others tore out his hair, dragged him, and threw
im into the garden. Some say with the rope with which they had strangled
im they swung him as if hanging over the garden. It was further related
) us that they intended to throw him into a well, and thereafter to give it out
e had left the Kingdom . . . and this would have been carried out had not
is nurse quickly come upon the scene." Cf. Baluzius, Vita Paparum
Ivenonensium, 1305-94, Vol. II, p. 86, and Baddeley, op. cit,, p. 344
seq.

1 e.g. another account states that "a conspiracy was formed against the
oung Andrew, and it is said, with some truth, that the Queen was the soul
T it. One evening in September, 1345, the court being at the Castello of
.versa, a chamberlain entered the royal apartment, where Andrew was with
le Queen, to announce to them that despatches of great importance were
rrived from Naples. Andrew went out immediately, and as he passed
irough the salon which separated his room from the Queen's, he was seized
id hanged from the window of the palace by a golden rope said to have been
oven by the Queen's hands, and there he was left for two days. The Queen,
ho was, or pretended to be, stupefied with horror, returned to Naples. No
:al attempt, even at the behest of the Pope, was made to find the assassins."
he Queen was within three months of the birth of her child when the murder
xurred. She gained nothing by Andrew's death but exile. The murderers,

far as we can judge now, were undoubtedly the Catanese group in danger
losing their positions at court.

2 Giovanna's own account is given in Baddeley, op. cit., p. 345, n. 2.
lr. Baddeley is her ablest English defender. See also a curious book by
MALFI, La Regina Giovanna nella Tradizione (Naples, 1892).

n6 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [134+

last requested the custody of the young prince ; anc
this request became a demand when it was known tha
Giovanna was being sought in marriage by Robert o
Taranto, who, with his mother and his half-brother Louis
had been covertly associated with the Catanesi. Somethin;
had to be done, and early in 1346 we find Charles 0
Durazzo with Robert of Taranto and Ugo del Balz<
seizing Raimondo the seneschal, as one of the guilt;
persons. Under torture he confessed that he had know
ledge of the plot and assisted those who committed th
murder. Among his accomplices he named the Coun
of Terlizzi, Roberto de Cabannis, Giovanni and Rostaino c
Lagonessa, Niccolo di Melezino, Filippa Catanese, an
Sancia de Cabannis.

Charles of Durazzo and Robert of Taranto therefor
determined to hunt down the Catanese family and offer i
as a peace-offering to the King of Hungary, who alread
threatened to descend upon the Kingdom. At Durazzo
instigation an armed mob surrounded Castel Nuovo hunl
ing for the murderers. A few had been wise enough t
flee, but most of those denounced were arrested, imprisone
in Castel Capuana, and put to torture. In vain the Quee
protested against the princes' action. They achieved the
purpose and the Pope, in a Bull of March 19th, 1341
pardoned them, asserting that God had moved thei
to it.

The Queen, as might be expected, had now no furth*
wish to marry Robert of Taranto ; and, indeed, finding th;
she could not depend on him for help, she had alread
promised herself to his half-brother Louis. In this secor
marriage she begged for the favour of the Holy See. Tl
Pope, though not averse, bullied by Hungary, temporisec

Now, behind Louis of Taranto was the most astute mir
of that age, Boccaccio's old friend, Niccolo Acciaiuoli, tl
Florentine. He resolved to win for his patron both tl
Queen of Naples and the crown. Nor was he easily di

\li

GULFARDO AND GUASPARRUOLO. (DEC. VIII, i)
From a miniature in tlic French version of the "Decameron," made in ij.14 by Laurent
le Premier/ait. MS. late XI' century. (Brit. Museum. Rothschild Bequest, MS. XIV.)

346] IN NAPLES 117

:ouraged. Yet, at first certainly things looked black
enough for him.

Early in August, 1346, there had been erected along
he shore by the Castello dell5 Ovo a palisade encircling a
aised platform. Here, under Ugo del Balzo, the public
orture of the suspected began. Whatever else Boccaccio
nay have seen or done in Naples, it seems certain that
le was a witness of this dreadful orgie.1

But in Naples confusion followed on confusion. Without
vaiting for the Pope's leave, risking an interdict, Louis of
Taranto married Giovanna in the Castel Nuovo in August,
[347, while already King Louis of Hungary was creeping
lown through the Abruzzi to invade the Kingdom and
;eize the city. On January 15, 1348, the Queen, with
i few friends, leaving her child behind, sailed for Provence.
Sot long after Louis of Taranto and Acciaiuoli reached
NTaples, and, finding her departed, took ship for Tuscany.
vVith them, according to Witte, went Boccaccio. However
:hat may be, when next we hear of him he is in Romagna
it the court of Ostasio da Polenta. Louis of Taranto and
Acciaiuoli, with or without him, landed at Porto Ercole
}f the Counts Orsini of Sovana, and two days later del
Balzo surrendered Castel dell' Ovo with the young Prince
"harles Martel. King Louis was then at Aversa, where
le captured Philip of Taranto and Louis of Durazzo who
lad come to treat with him. Then Charles of Durazzo
,vas seized, tried for the murder of Andrew, and condemned :
ind they took him to Aversa and struck off his head
:>n the scene of the crime. But even the Neapolitans, who
lad in fact taken little part in the war, if a war it can be
:alled, being busy with their own feuds, grew weary of the

1 See snpra> p. 108, n. 1. All sorts of stories have been current as to
Boccaccio's personal relations with Queen Giovanna. By some he is said to
lave been her lover, by others to have been in her debt for the suggestion of
he scheme of the Decameron so far as it is merely a collection of merry tales.
rhese tales he is supposed to have told her. No evidence is to be found for
my of these assertions. But cf. Hortis, op. cit., p. 109 and n. 1.

GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

C1 344-6

invasion, so that when King Louis demanded ransom from
them, posing as a conqueror, they proved to him that
it would be wiser to withdraw. And there were other
arguments : for the Black Death fell on his army and he
fled, leaving only enough troops to prevent Giovanna from
returning. She, poor Queen, without soldiers or money,
was compelled to cede Avignon to the Holy See for
80,000 florins, on condition that the Pope declared her
innocent of the murder of her husband and proclaimed
the legality of her second marriage. Thus the Church was
the only gainer by these appalling crimes and treasons.
Once more Israel had spoiled the Egyptians. It was not
till 1352, after the second invasion of King Louis, that
Giovanna was able to return to Naples.

CHAPTER VIII

I346-i35o

IN ROMAGNA — THE PLAGUE — THE DEATH OF
FIAMMETTA

THE few notices we have of Boccaccio's life at
this time are almost entirely mere hints which
enable us to assert that in such a year he was
in such a place : they in no way help us to dis-
cover why he was there or what he was doing. Thus we are
able to affirm that probably between 1344 and 1346,
certainly in 1345, he was in Naples, but why he went there,
unless it were for the sake of Fiammetta, we cannot
suggest, for if Florence was a shambles, so was Naples.
In much the same way we know that he was in Ravenna
with Ostasio da Polenta not later than 1346; for in a
letter Petrarch wrote him in 1365 he reminds him that he
was in Ravenna " in the time of the grandfather of him
who now rules there." * But why Boccaccio went to Ra-
venna, unless it were that, rinding Naples too hot to hold
him and Florence impossible, he took refuge with some

1 See Lett. 19 del Lib. XXIII, Epist. Familiarum. Fracassetti has
translated this letter into Italian : see Lettere di Fr. Petrarca volgarizz. Delle
Cose Fam., Vol. V, p. 91 et seq. Petrarch says: "Adrise in litore, ea
ferme setate, qua tu ibi agebas cum antiquo plagse illius domino eius avo qui
nunc prsesidet." It is Fracassetti who dates this letter 1365 (Baldelli dates in
1362, and Tiraboschi in 1367). If, as we believe, Fracassetti is right, then
Boccaccio must have been in Ravenna in 1346, for in 1365 Guido da Polenta
ruled there, the son of Bernardino who died in 1359, the son of Ostasio, who
died November 14, 1346. Boccaccio had relations in Ravenna. In the
proem to the De Genealogiis he tells us that Ostasio da Polenta induced him
to translate Livy.

II9

120 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO O346-

relations he had there, or with the Polenta who had
befriended Dante, we do not know. Nor do we know
what he did there. It may be that during his stay in
Naples he had already begun to think of writing a life of
Dante ; and hearing that the great poet had left a daughter
Beatrice in Ravenna he set out to see her. This, however,
is but the merest conjecture. Baldelli,1 indeed, thinks that
Boccaccio was at this time in Romagna as ambassador for
Florence. For Ravenna was not the only place he visited
about this time. If we may believe the third Eclogue^ he
was also the guest of Francesco degli Ordelaffi, the great
enemy of the Church in Romagna and of King Robert the
Wise.2

In the third Eclogue Palemone reproves Pamfilo for idly
reposing in his cave while all around the woods ring with
the cries of Testili infuriated against Fauno. Now Fauno,
as Boccaccio tells us in his letter to Frate Martino da
Signa,3 where he explains some of the disguises of the

1 Yet there may be something in it. Baldelli tells us that he wrote the
Vita di Dante in 1351, and in 1349 we find him in communication with
Petrarch. That Beatrice di Dante was in Ravenna in 1346 seems certain.
Pelli, Memorie per servire alia vita di Dante (Firenze, 1823), p. 45, says :
" As for the daughter Beatrice . . . one knows that she took the habit of a
religious in the convent of S. Stefano detto dell' Uliva in Ravenna." We
know from a document seen by Pelli that in 1350 the Or San Michele Society
sent Beatrice ten gold florins by the hand of Boccaccio. What I suggest
is that Boccaccio found her in Ravenna in 1346 very poor. He represented
the facts to the Or San Michele Society, who, after the Black Death of 1348,
had plenty of money in consequence of all the legacies left them and, as is
well known, were very free with their plenty.

1 give the document Pelli saw as he quotes it. He says he found it in
" un libro d' entrata ed uscita del 1350 tra gli altri esistenti nella cancelleria
de' capitani di Or San Michele risposto nell' armadio alto di detta cancelleria."
There, he says, is written the following disbursement in the month of
September, 1350: "A Messer Giovanni di Bocchaccio . . . fiorini dieci
d' oro, perche gli desse a suora Beatrice figliuola che fu di Dante Alleghieri,
monaca nel monastero di S. Stefano dell' Uliva di Ravenna," etc. See also
Bernicole in Giornale Dantesco, An. VII (Series III), Quaderno vii
(Firenze, 1899), p. 337 et sea., who rediscovered the document which is
republished by Biagi and Pesserini in Codice Diplomatico Dantesco, Disp. 5
(1900).

2 Cf. Ferretus Vicentinus, Lib. VII, in R. I. S., Tom. IX.

3 Corazzini, op. cit., p. 268. "Tertise vero Eclogoe titulus est Faunus,
nam cum eiusdam causa fuerit Franciscus de Ordolaffis Forolivii Capitaneus,

55°] IN ROMAGNA 121

\dogues, is Francesco degli Ordelaffi, and Testili, although
■occaccio does not say so, is without doubt the Church,

hich had in fact no greater enemy in all Romagna than
)rdelaffo, the usurper, if you will, of the ecclesiastical
ominion, who held in contempt the many excommunica-
ons launched against him, replying always by an attack
n some bishop, and by making continual war on the
agates sent against him.1

Those cries, and the anger which causes them, fill the
rst part of the Eclogue. In the second part, it is clearly
ecounted how King Louis of Hungary came down into
taly to avenge the murder of his brother Andrew. Argo,
he head shepherd worthy to be praised by all, has
>erforce abandoned the sheep.2 Argo is Robert King of

uem cum summe sylvas coleret et nemora, ob insitam illi venationis delecta-

ionem ego saepissime Faunum vocare consueverim, eo quod Fauni sylvarum

poetis nuncupentur Dei, illam Faunum nominavi. Nominibus autem

ollocutorum nullum significatum volui, eo quod minime videretur opportunum."

1 See Hortis, Studi sulle opere Latine del B. (Trieste, 1879), p. 5 et seq.

2 Here is part of the Eclogue which will be useful to us : —

"Fleverunt montes Argum, Severe dolentes
Et Satyri, Faunique leves, et flevit Apollo.
Ast moriens silvas juveni commisit Alexo,
Qui cautus modicum, dum armenta per arva trahebat,
In gravidam turn forte lupam, rabieque tremendam
Incidit impavidus, nullo cum lumine lustrum
Ingrediens, cujus surgens ssevissima guttur
Dentibus invasit, potuit neque ab inde revelli,
Donee et occulto spirasset tramite vita.
Hoc fertur, plerique volunt quod silva leones
Nutriat haec, dirasque feras, quibus ipse severus
Occurrens, venans mortem, suscepit Adonis .

sed postquam Tityrus ista

Cognovit de rupe cava, quae terminat Istrum,
Flevit, et innumeros secum de vallibus altis
Danubii vocitare canes, durosque bubulcos
Infrendes coepit, linquensque armenta, suosque
Saltus, infandam tendit discerpere silvam
Atque lupam captare petit, flavosque leones,
Ut poenas tribuat meritis, nam frater Alexis
Tityrus iste fuit. Nunquid vidisse furentum
Stat menti, ferro nuper venabula acuto
Gestantem manibus, multos et retia post hunc
Portantes humeris, ira rabieque frementes,
Hac olim transire via."

Eclog. Iff, p. 267 (ed. Firenze, 17 19).

122 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1346

Naples,1 wise as King Solomon, who follows the Muses
Alexis is Andrew of Hungary and Naples, who, made fret
of the woods by Argo, being careless and without caution
has been assailed by a she-wolf, pregnant and enraged, thai
is by Queen Giovanna ; for here, at any rate, Boccaccic
eagerly sides with the rabble and accepts the guilt of the
Queen as fact. They say, he adds, that the woods helc
many cruel wild beasts and lions, and that Alexis met the
death of Adonis. Now Tityrus, that is King Louis o
Hungary, the brother of the dead Alexis, heard of thi:
beyond Ister or the Danube, and set forth with innumerable
hunters to punish the wolf and the lions.2 And man)
Italians joined with Tityrus, says Boccaccio ; among then:
was Faunus, although Testili threatened him and cursec
him sore.3

What this means is obvious. The Pope, dismayed bj
the descent of King Louis into Italy,4 having tried unsuc
cessfully in a thousand ways to turn him from his purpose
hindered him as best he could when he had once set out

1 Petrarch also calls him Argo in his third Eclogue. See Hortis, op. cit.
p. 6, n. 2.

2 The lions — biondi leoni — according to Hortis, refer to Niccolo Acciaiuoli
whose coat was a lion, but for me they are the Conti della Leonessa. Cf
Villani, op. cit., Lib. XII, cap. 51. When then did Boccaccio quarrel witl
Acciaiuoli ?

3 " . . . multi per devia Tityron istum
Ex nostris, canibus sumptis, telisque sequuntur.
Inter quos Faunus, quem tristis et anxia fletu
Thestylis incassum revocat, clamoribus omnem
Concutiens silvam. Tendit tamen ille neglectis
Fletibus. ..." Eclog. Ill, p. 268, ed. cit.

4 It is well known, of course, that King Louis made two descents into Italy
one in 1347 before the Black Death, and one after it in 1350. Hortis tell:
us that this Eclogue is certainly dated 1348 {op. cit., p. 5, n. 4). It therefor*
must allude to the first descent. This is confirmed, as Hortis points out, b)
the poems themselves. (1) By the chronological order in which Boccacci(
treats of events in the Eclogues. The first two deal with his love, and thos(
immediately following the third, of the events of 1348. (2) By the content:
of the third Eclogue itself, which deals first with the happiness of Naple:
under King Robert, with his death, the murder of Andrew, and the descent o
King Louis, his passage, as we shall see, through Fori! in I347> whence
Francesco degli Ordelaffi set out with him for Lower Italy : all of whicl
happened not in the second, but in the first (1347) descent of King Louis.

350] IN ROMAGNA 123

The Vicar in Romagna, Astorgio di Duraforte, was ordered
lot to allow him to enter any city ; a papal legate met him
it Foligno, forbidding him on pain of excommunication to
2nter the Kingdom. In spite of the papal prohibition the
signorotti of Romagna gladly entertained the king. Fran-
:esco Ordelaffi above all, as Villani tells us,1 " bade him
welcome, and went out to meet him in the contado of
Bologna with two hundred horse and a thousand foot, all
under arms. On December 13 he received him in Fori!
with the greatest honour, furnishing his needs and those
of all his people. And there they sojourned three days with
much feasting and dancing of men and women, and the
king made knights of the lord of Forli and of his two sons."
This, however, did not content Ordelafifo, for with three
hundred of his best horse he followed King Louis to help
him in his undertaking on December 17, 1347.2 Now
Ordelaffo was not only a lover of the chase and of war,
but in his way a humanist also, who, like Sigismondo
Malatesta later, surrounded himself with poets and men
of letters. Among his friends and counsellors was that
Cecco da Meleto who was the friend of Petrarch and
Boccaccio.3 He was a great admirer of Petrarch, and
merited the title Boccaccio gave him in that letter to
Zanobi : Pieridum hospes gratissimus.

1 Villani, Cronica, Lib. XII, cap. 107.

2 Cf. Annates Casenates R. I. S.t Tom. XIV, col. 1179, and Hortis, op.
cit., p. 8, n. 3. The latter argues long and successfully for the departure of
Ordelaffo with King Louis at this date : to which he also ascribes the
letters of Boccaccio to Zanobi {Quampium, quam sanctum), by some considered
apochryphal (Corazzini, op. cit., p. 447), where Boccaccio says: "Varronem
quidem nondum habui : eram tamen habiturus in brevi, nisi itinera instarent
ad illustrem Hungarian regem in estremis Brutiorum et Campanise quo
moratur, nam ut sua imitetur arma iustissima meus inclitus dominus et
Pieridum hospes gratissimus cum pluribus Flaminess proceribus praeparetur ;
quo et ipse, mei prsedicti domini jussu non armiger, sed ut ita loquar rerum
occurrentium arbiter sum iturus, et praestantibus Superis, omnes in brevi
victoria habita et celebrato triumpho dignissime proprias [sic] revisuri." The
letter is dated Forll.

3 Cf. Fracassetti, in a note to Lett. 3 of Lib. XXI, Lett. Fam. of Petrarch ;
and as regards Boccaccio, see Baldelli, in note to Sonnet xcix., written
for Cecco (Moutier, Vol. XVI, p. 175).

i24 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1346-

If that letter is authentic,1 then Boccaccio not only met
King Louis of Hungary2 at Forll, but accompanied him
and Francesco degli Ordelaffi into the Kingdom in the end
of the year 1347 and the beginning of 1348.3 His senti-
ments with regard to the murder and the war which
followed it are clearly expressed there. He speaks of
the King's arms as " arma justissima" and though it sur-
prises us to find Boccaccio on that side, the letter only
states clearly the sentiments already set down in allegory
in the third and eighth Eclogues, and clearly but more
discreetly stated in the De Casibus Virorum. In the
fourth Eclogue, however, he commiserates the unhappy
fate of Louis of Taranto, and hymns his return. Can it
be that, at first persuaded of the Queen's guilt, he learned
better later ? We do not know. The whole affair of the
murder, as of Boccaccio's actions at this time and of his
sentiments with regard to it, are mysterious. If in the
third and eighth Eclogues he tells us that Giovanna and
Louis of Taranto were the real murderers of Andrew and
wishes success to the arms of the avenger; in the fourth,
fifth, and sixth Eclogues he sympathises with Louis and
tells of the misery of the Kingdom after the descent of the
Hungarians, and at last joyfully celebrates the return of
Giovanna and her husband.4 And this contradiction is
emphasised by his actions. So far as we may follow him
at all in these years, we see him in Naples horrified and
disgusted at the state of affairs, leaving the city after the

1 Cf. Hortis, op. cit., pp. 8 and 267-77. Cf. Corazzini, op. cit., p. 447.

2 That he met King Louis is certain. In the third Eclogue he says : —

"Nunquid vidisse furentem
Stat menti."

3 In the letters to Zanobi, spoken of above, beginning Quam pium, quam
sanctum, he says he is going to the illustrious King of Hungary in the con-
fines of the Abruzzi and of Campania : ' ' Ad illustrem Hungarian regem in
estremis Brutiorum et Campanile."

4 Villanj, op. cit., Lib. XII, cap. 51, believed in the guilt of Giovanna,
but he was writing from hearsay. He says the Queen lived in adultery with
Louis of Taranto and with Robert of Taranto and with the son of Charles
d'Artois and with Jacopo Capano.

MADONNA FRANCESCA AND HER LOVERS. (DEC. IX, i)
From a miniature in the French version of the "Decameron," made in
Laurent le Premier/ait. MS. late AT century. (Brit. Mus. Rothschild
MS. XIV.)

1414 by
Bequest.

550] IN ROMAGNA 125

^rture and death of the Catanesi and repairing to the
Durts of the Polenta and of the Ordelaffi, the enemies of
le Church which held Giovanna innocent, and of the
hampions of the Church, Robert and Naples. Nor does
e stop there, but apparently follows Ordelaffo in his
.escent with King Louis on Naples in the end of 1347
nd the beginning of 1348. Yet in 1350 he was in
\aples, and in 1352 he was celebrating the return of
hose against whom he had sided and written. The con-
radiction is evident, and we cannot explain it ; but in a
nanner it gives us the reason why, when Frate Martino da
Segna asked for an explanation and key to the Eclogues,
le supplied him with one so meagre and imperfect.1

King Louis of Hungary, as we know, had not been
nany months in the Kingdom when he was forced to fly
"or his life, not by a mortal foe, but by the plague — the
Black Death of 1348. It was brought to Italy by two
jrenoese galleys which had been trading in the East and
lad touched at Pisa. In April it had spread to Florence,
1 month later to Siena, before Midsummer all Italy was in
its grip, and by the following year the greater part of
Europe. No chronicler of the time in Italy but has more
than enough to say of this "judgment of God"; and
beside the wonderful description by Boccaccio in the
introduction to the Decameroft, there is scarcely a novelist
who does not recount some tale or other concerning it.2

Perhaps Tuscany suffered most severely. " In our city of
Florence," writes Matteo Villani,3 for old Giovanni Villani
perished in the pestilence — " in our city of Florence the
plague became general in the beginning of April of the
year 1348, and lasted till the beginning of September.
And there died in the city, the contado, and the district,

1 Boccaccio was and remained all his life a keen Guelf and supporter of
the House of Anjou. Of that no doubt is possible. Cf. Hortis, op. cit.,
p. 109.

2 See especially Sacchetti, Nov. XXI and CLVIII.

3 M. Villani, Cronica, Lib. I, cap. ii.

126 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1346

of both sexes and of all ages, three out of every five
persons and more, for the poor suffered most, since it
began with them who were utterly without aid, and more
disposed by weakness to be attacked." Already Giovanni
Villani had noted that in 1 347 " there began in Florence
and in the contado a sort of sickness which always follows
famine and hunger, and this especially fell on women and
children among the poor."1 Giovanni Morelli2 tells us
that in Florence it was a common thing to see people
laughing and talking together, and then in the same hour
to see them dead. People fell down dead in the streets, and
were left where they fell. " Many went mad and cast them-
selves into wells or out of windows into the Arno by
reason of their great pain and horrible fear. Vast numbers
died unnoticed in their houses, and were left to putrefy
upon their beds. Many were buried before they were
actually dead. Priests went bearing the cross to accom-
pany a corpse to burial, and before they reached the
church there were three or four biers following them.
The grass grew in the streets. So completely were all
obligations of blood and of affection forgotten, that men
left their nearest and dearest to die alone rather than incur
the danger of infection."3 Nor was this all. Every sort
of moral obligation was forgotten. Boccaccio more than
hints at this, and we have evidence from many others. In
the continual fear of death men and women often forgot
everything but the present moment, which they were con-
tent to enjoy in each other's arms, even though they were
strangers. Ah, poor souls ! Amid the terror and loneli-
ness of the summer, when the hot sunshine was more

1 Cf. G. Villani, Lib. XII, cap. 84. After the horrible slaughters and
wars in Florence, and indeed in all Tuscany, the disgraceful state of affairs
in Naples, it is not wonderful that pestilence broke out and found a congenial
soil.

2 G. Morelli, Cronica, p. 280. Cf. G. Biagi, La vita privata dei
Fiorentini (Milano, 1899), pp. 77_9-

3 W. Heywood, The Ensa??iples of Fra Filippo (Torrini Siena, 1901),
p. 80 et seq.

350] IN RAVENNA 127

errible than the darkness, which at least hid the shame,
he disorder, and the visible horror, there was no lack
-f opportunities. All social barriers were gone, and rich
nd poor, bond and free, took what they might desire. It
/as the same in Siena; and if in Naples and the Romagna
he deaths were less numerous, what are a few thousands
/hen the lowest mortality was more than two in every
ive? People said the end of the world was come. In a
ense they were right. It was the end of the Middle

n Florence there perished among the rest Giovanni
/illani, as I have said, and, as we may believe, Bice, the
econd wife of Boccaccino. In Naples it seems certain
hat Fiammetta died.

But where was Boccaccio during those dreadful five
nonths of 1348? Was he with Fiammetta in Naples?
Did he perhaps close her eyes and bear her to the grave ?
3r was he in Florence with his father, or in Forll with
he Ordelaffi ? All we know is that he was not in
Florence,1 and it therefore seems certain that he was either
n Naples, though we cannot say with Fiammetta, or in

1 In the Commentary on the Divine Comedy (Moutier, Vol. XI, p. 105)
le says : " E se io ho il vero inteso, perciocche in que' tempi io non ci era, io
■do, chein questa citta avvenne a molti nell' anno pestifero del MCCCXLVIII,
he essendo soprappresi gli uomini dalla peste, e vicini alia morte, ne furon piu
: piu, i quali de' loro amici, chi uno e chi due, e chi piu ne chiamo, dicendo,
ienne tale e tale ; de' quali chiamati e nominati assai, secondo 1' ordine
enuto dal chiamatore, s'eran morti, e andatine appresso al chiamatore. ..."
This might seem evidence enough that Boccaccio was not in Florence in 1348,
or he expressly says so. There is a passage, however, in the Decameron In-
roduction where he seems to say that he was in Florence ; but as we shall see,
ve misunderstand him. He says : "So marvellous is that which I have now
o relate that had not many, and I among them, observed it with their own
:yes I had hardly dared to credit it. ..." He then goes on to tell us
assuring us again that he had seen it himself) that one day two hogs came
losing among the rags of a poor wretch who had died of the disease, and
mmediately they " gave a few turns and fell down dead as if from poison. ..."
3ut this might have happened in Naples or Fori! quite as well as in Florence,
't is only right to add that the Moutier edition of the Comento sopra Dante
lotes that the MS. from which it is printed reads 1340 instead of 1348 in the
massage already quoted. This may or may not be an error. There was a
)lague in Florence in 1340. See Villani, op. cit., Lib. XII, cap. lxxiii.

128 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [itf

Forli with OrdelafTo. Wherever he was, he did not escap
the terrible sights that the plague brought in its trair
He tells us of one of these which he himself had seen ii
the Introduction to the Decameron. On the whole, how
ever, it seems likely that Boccaccio was in Naples at thi
time, and Baldelli even cites the letter to Franceschin
de' Bardi, which he tells us bears the date of May 15
1349,1 and which was certainly written in Naples. Wher
ever he may have been, however, he was recalled t<
Florence by the death of his father, which befell not ii
the plague, for in July, 1348, he added a codicil to hi
Will,2 but between that date and January, 1350, when, a
Manni proved, Giovanni was appointed tutor to hi
brother Jacopo.3

In that year, 1350, Boccaccio was thirty-seven years old
and, save for his stepbrother Jacopo, he was now alone it
the world. His father was dead, his stepbrother Francesa
had long since been in the grave, and now Fiammetta alsc
was departed. And those last ten years, which had robbec
him of so much, of his youth also, had been among th<
most terrible that even Italy can ever have endured. H<
had seen Florence run with blood, and every sort of torture
and horror stalk abroad in Naples. Rome, if he venturec
there, can have appeared to him but little less than i
shambles. Rienzi, with all that hope, had come anc
vanished like a ghost. The fairest province in Italy la)
under the heel of a barbarian invader. And as thougl
to add a necessary touch of irony to the tragedy that hac
passed before his eyes, he had taken refuge and found sucl
peace as he enjoyed among the unruly and riotous signo

1 See the letter in Corazzini, op. cit., p. 23. It is written in the Neapoli
tan dialect, and in all the versions I have been able to see bears the date of n<
year at all. It is signed thus : " In Napoli, lo juorno de sant' Anniello — Dell
toi Jannetto di Parisse dalla Ruoccia/'

2 Cf. Manni, Istoria del Decamerone (Firenze, 1742), p. 21. See ak'
Koerting, op. cit., p. 179, and epecially Crescini, of. cit., p. 257 et seq.

3 Cf. Manni, u.s.

1 35°] IN RAVENNA 129

rotti and bandits of the Romagna, where properly peace
was never found, but which amid the greater revolutions
on the western side of the Apennines seemed perhaps
peaceful enough. And then had come the pestilence,
which cared nothing for right or wrong, innocent or guilty,
young or old, bond or free, but slew all equally with an
impartial and appalling cruelty that was like a vengeance
— the vengeance of God, men said. In that vengeance,
whether of God or of outraged nature, all that he loved
or cared for had been lost to him. That he always loved
his mother, dead so long ago, better than his father goes
for nothing ; that he loved his father as all men love him
who has given them life is certain, he could not choose but
love him. But in spite of the easy laugh, too like a sneer
to be quite true or sincere, at the beginning of the De-
cameron, the wound he felt most nearly, that he never
really forgot or quite forgave, was the death of Fiammetta,
whom he had loved at first sight, with all the eagerness
and fire of his youth, with all his heart, as we might say,
ruthlessly keeping nothing back. From this time love
meant nothing to him ; there were other women doubtless
in his life, mirages that almost lured him to despair or
distraction, for he was always at the mercy of women ;
but the passion, if we may so call it, which henceforth fills
his life is that of friendship — friendship for a great and a
good man which, with all its comfort, left him still with that
vain shadow, that emptiness in his heart —

" The grief which I have borne since she is dead."

CHAPTER IX

THE RIME— THE SONNETS TO FIAMMETTA

FIAMMETTA was dead. It must have been with
that sorrow in his heart that Boccaccio returnee
once more from Naples into Tuscany, to settk
the affairs of his father and to undertake the
guardianship of his stepbrother Jacopo. That the deatr
of Fiammetta was very bitter to him there are many
passages in his work to bear witness ; her death was the
greatest sorrow of his life ; yet even as there are persons
who doubt Shakespeare's love for the " dark lady " anc
would have it that those sonnets which beyond any othei
poems in any literature kindle in us pity and terro:
and love are but a literary exercise, so there is a certair
number of professional critics who would deny the realit)
of Boccaccio's love for Fiammetta. I confess at once tha
with this kind of denial I have no sympathy whatever. I
seems to me the most ridiculous part of an absurd profes
sion. We are told, for instance, in the year 1904 that Si
Philip Sidney, who died in 1586, did not love his Stella
and this is suddenly asserted with the air of a medieva
Pope speaking ex cathedra, no sort of evidence in suppor
of the assertion being vouchsafed, and all the evidena
that could be brought to prove the contrary ignored ir
a way that is either ignorant or dishonest. Sidney spen
a good part of his life telling us he did love Stella ; his bes
friend, Edmund Spenser, in two separate poems on his deatr
asserts in the strongest way he can that this was true ; anc

130

THE RIME 131

(this apparently that some hack in the twentieth century
uld find them both liars. Such is " criticism " and
ti are the " critics," who do not hesitate to explain
us as fluently as possible the psychology of a poet's
[. The whole method both in its practice and in
results is a fraud, and would be dangerous if it were
ot ridiculous.

This very method which in regard to Shakespeare and
idney has brought us to absurdity has been applied,
lough with some excuse, to Boccaccio in regard to his
•ve for Fiammetta. It has been necessary, apparently,
• defeat the heresiarchs with their own weapons, to write

Hphlets to prove that Boccaccio's love for Fiammetta was
il passion * and not a figment of his imagination, and
in spite of the fact that he tells us over and over and over
£ain almost every detail of that love which was the sun-
'ht and shadow of his youth, the consolation and the regret
his manhood and age. Yes, say the dissenters, we must
Imit that ; but on the other hand you must allow that
Dccaccio carefully wraps everything up in mystery; he
ves us not a single date, and in his own proper person
: says nothing, or almost nothing, about it. Well, there
some truth in that ; but Boccaccio did not write an
tobiography, and if he had, it would scarcely have been
cent then, whatever it may be thought now, to proclaim
mself, actually in so many words with names and dates,
2 lover of a married lady, and this would have been
nost impossible if that lady were the daughter of a
ig. Thus on the face of it, the last thing we ought
expect is a frank statement of such facts as
sse.
But then, the dissenters continue, none of the contem-

1 Cf. Antona Traversi, Delia realta e della vera natura delP amore di
sser Gio. Boccaccio (Livorno, 1883), and Ibid., Della verith delP amore di
. Boccaccio (Bologna, 1884) ; also Renier, Di una nuova opinione sulP
rre del B. in Rassegna Sellimanale, Vol. VI, No. 145, pp. 236-8.

132 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

porary biographers, such as Villani and Bandino,1 say
anything of the matter. Our answer to that is that they
had nothing to say for the same reason that a modern
biographer would have or should have nothing to say in
similar circumstances. But in spite of the diversity of
opinion which we find for these and similar reasons, we
must suppose, that even to-day, to every type of mind and
soul save the critic of literature it must be evident that
the love of Boccaccio for Fiammetta was an absolutely real
thing, so real that it made Boccaccio what he was, and
led him to write those early works which we have
already examined and to compose the majority of the
poems which we are now about to consider and to enjoy.2
But before we proceed to consider in detail these
sonnets and songs of Boccaccio, we must decide which oi
all those that from time to time have passed under his
name are really his. And here we will say at once that
no English writer, no foreign writer at all, has a right tc
an opinion. Such a question, involving as it does the
subtlest and most delicate rhythm of verse, cannot be
solved by any one who is not an Italian, for to us the mosi
characteristic and softest music of the Tuscan must eve
pass unheard. So the French have made of Poe a ver} j

1 Villani says B. wrote in the vulgar tongue in verse and prose " i
quibus lascivientis iuventutis ingenio paullo liberius evagavit." Bandino say
almost as little ; but see Crescini, op. cit., p. 164, n. 3. Manetti says : " i
amores usque ad maturam fere setatem vel paulo proclivior." Squarciafic
speaks of the various opinions current on the love of B. for Fiammetta, bi
does not give an opinion himself; he seems doubtful, however, whether tb
daughter of so great a king could be induced to forget her honour by mei
verses and letters. Sansovino, however, thinks B. was a successful lover 1 i
Fiammetta. Betussi came to think the same, so did Nicoletti, and so di \
Zilioli. Mazzuchelli, however, does not believe it. Tiraboschi does n< \
believe the so-called confessions of B. Baldelli, however, does beh^ \
them {op. cit., p. 364 et seq.).

2 I confess that the dissenters seem to me to be merely absurd. They a I
not worth any fuller answer than that given above. Of course, in speakii \
of Fiammetta, I mean Maria d' Aquino. It would seem to be impossible ;
doubt her identity after the acrostic of the Amorosa Visione. I do not hoj I
to convert the dissenters by abusing them. I would not convert them if
could. They are too dangerous to any cause.

13=2/

THE KNIGHT WHO THOUGHT HIMSELF ILL-REWARDED. (DEC. X, i)
From a miniature in the French version of the "Decameron," made in 1414 by
Laurent le Premier/ait. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Mus. Rothschild Bequest.

MS. XII'.)

THE RIME 133

great poet because they, being foreigners, can hear, and
not too easily, his melody; while the music of Herrick,
for instance, is too subtle for them in the foreign tongue.
No, for us there remains the received canon of Boccaccio's
Rime to which no doubt can attach, and that consists of
one hundred and four sonnets, namely, Nos. 1-101 and 107,
109, and 1 10 in Baldelli's edition,1 and a poem which Baldelli
refused to print because he thought it obscene, though
in fact it is not, Poi, Satiro seJ fatto si severo — all these
conserved in Prof. Cugnoni's codex of the Rime.2 We
may add the two ballate, the first madrigale, the capitolo on
the twelve beautiful ladies, and the ballata which Baldelli
mistakenly calls a canzone from the Livorno collection.
To these we may add again four sonnets and a ternario
from the codex Marciana (Venice, it cl. ix. 257), and finally
the madrigal O giustizia Regina in codex Laurenziana
(Florence, xl. 43).3

Having thus decided on our text, let us try to get it into
some sort of order. Baldelli's collection, which has been
twice reprinted, is itself an utter confusion,4 a mere heap
of good things. If we are to make anything of these
poems we must arrange them in some sort of sequence,
either of date or of contents. No one can possibly
arrange them in the order in which they were written, and
therefore, though there are lacunce, for we cannot suppose
that we are in possession of all Boccaccio's verse, or if we
vvere that he would consciously have written a story in
sonnets, we shall try to arrange them in accordance with

1 Baldelli, Rime di Messcr Gio. Boccacci (Livorno, 1802). This text
vas reprinted in Raccolta di Rime Antiche Toscane (Palermo, 1817), Vol. IV,
)p. 1-157, which was used by Rossetti for his translation of six of the
.onnets, and again in the Opere Voigari (Moutier, 1834), Vol. XVI.

2 Cf. Manicardi e Massera, Introdzizione al testo critico del Canzoniere
ii Gio. Boccacci con rime inedite (Castelfiorentino, La Societa Stor. di
/aldelsa, 1901), p. 20. This book contains the best explanation we yet
lave of the sonnets and their order. It is a masterly little work. On it
:f. Crescini in Rassegna bibliogr. della letter, it., Vol. IX, p. 38 et seq.

3 Cf. Manicardi e Massera, op. cit., p. 21.

4 Cf. Manicardi e Massera, op. cit , p. 27, note i.

134 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

their subjects. In this I follow for the most part the work
of the Signori Manicardi and Massera. They were not,
however, the first to try their hands at it. The learned
Signore Antona Traversi1 had already suggested a method
of grouping these sonnets, when they began to bring a real
order out of chaos.

To make a long story short, Signor Antona Traversi
thought he could distinguish four sonnets which were
written before any of those he wished to give to Fiammetta.
He found seventy-eight which were inspired by her, nine
of which were concerned with her death. Two others he
thought were composed for the widow of the Corbaccio?

The sonnets to Fiammetta, sixty-nine of which were
written to her living and nine to her dead, he arranges in
a sort of categories, thus : twenty-six sonnets he calls
" ideal " — these were written to her in the first years that
followed Boccaccio's meeting with her ; nineteen he calls
" sensual " — these were composed before he possessed her
at Baia ; twenty- three he calls " very sensual " — these were
written in the fullness of his enjoyment, when his most im-
petuous desires had been satisfied. Finally, Signor Antona
Traversi finds one sonnet where we may see his sorrow at
having lost his mistress.

But this method is almost the same as that we found so
absurd in the dissenters, who eagerly deny the reality of
any love which man has cared to express. Its success
depends entirely on our absolute knowledge of the psycho-
logy of man's heart, of a poet's heart. What knowledge,
then, have we which will enable us to divide what is ideal
love here from what is base love, the false from the true ?
Is the parable of the tares and the wheat to go for nothing ?
And again, can we divide love, the love of any man for
any woman, if indeed it be love, into " sensual," " ideal," and

1 See Antona Traversi, Di una cronologia approssimativa delle
Boccaccia in Preludio (Ancona, 1883), VII, p. 2 et seq.

2 See infra, p. 181 et seq.

<•, rime del

THE RIME 135

so forth ? Indeed, for such a desperate operation one

would need a knowledge of man beside which that of

Shakespeare would be as a rushlight to the sun. Canst

thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades or loose the

bands of Orion ? Who shall divide love into periods of the

soul? These are things too wonderful for me, which I

<now not. Are not " idealism " and " sensuality " moods

:>f the same passion, often simultaneous and always inter-

:hangeable ? Or do the critics speak of affection ? But I

.peak not of affection. I speak of love — a flame of fire.

A.nd whatever Boccaccio's love may have been, good or

oad as you will, I care not what you decide to think, this

at least it was, a passion, a passion which mastered him

and destroyed in him much that was good, much that was

bad, but that made of him a poet and the greatest story-

°ller in the world. Such a passion was composed of an

lfinite number of elements spiritual and physical, in which

le sensual presupposes the ideal even as the ideal does

le sensual. Who may divide what God has joined to-

sther ? And if one might — what disaster !

As though this difficulty were not enough to stagger

fen the most precise among us, we have to take this

so into account, that for the first time in modern litera-

re, love, human love, is freely expressed in Boccaccio's

nnets. It is true Dante had sung of Beatrice till she

.nishes away into a mere symbol, far and far from our

Drld in the ever-narrowing circles of his Paradise. So

itrarch had sung of Laura till the coldness of her smile —

! in the sunshine of Provence — has frozen his song on his

s, so that it is as smooth and as brittle as ice. It

not of such as these that Boccaccio sings, but of a

man mean and lovely, beautiful as the sea and as

acherous, infinitely various, licentious, sentimental, of

d minds in a single heart's beat, who smiled his soul out

lis body in a short hour on a spring morning in church,

o passed with him for her own pleasure in the shadow

136 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

of the myrtles at Baia, whom he took by the hair, and
kissed cruelly, thirsty for kisses, on the mouth, and who,
being weary, as women will be, threw him aside for no
cause but for this, that she had won his love. No man but
Dante could have loved Beatrice, for he made her ; and for
Laura, she is so dim, so mere a ghost, I only know her
name ; but for Fiammetta, which of us would not have
staked his eternal good, since in her we recognise the very
truth ; not " every woman " — God forbid — but woman, and
if, as the dissenters would assert, she is a myth, a creation
of Boccaccio's, then indeed he was an artist only second
to the greatest, for she is only less human, less absolute
than Cleopatra.

We may take it then, first, that Boccaccio's love was a
reality, and not a "literary exercise" that he performed
in these sonnets ; and then, that if we are to get any
order at all out of those which deal with so profound and
difficult a subject as love, we must not hope to do it by
dividing them into certain artificial categories, such as of
" ideal love," of " sensual love," of " very sensual love."

Let us begin with certainties. We can dispose of certain
of the poems at once. Sonnet xcvii. to Petrarch, who is
dead, must have been written after July 20, 1374. Sonnets
vii., viii., ix., which deal with certain censures which had
been passed on his Exposition of Dante, were certainly
written after August, 1373, when Boccaccio was appointed
to lecture on the Divine Comedy. In sonnets i., xxvi.,
xlii., lxiv., lxviii., and xciii. he alludes to the fact that he
is growing old.1 In sonnet ciii. he says he is sorry
depart without hope of seeing his lady again : —

1 In sonnet xlii. he says the arch of his age is passed : —
" Perche passato e 1' arco de' miei anni,
E ritornar non posso al primo giorno ;
E 1' ultimo gia veggio s' avvicina."

Manicardi e Massera, op. cit.y think this would mean he was thirty-five
but in my opinion it would mean he was already forty or forty-five. For
according to an old writer of 13 10 (Cod. Nazionale di Firenze, II, ii.

THE RIME 137

" Ma cio mai non avviene, e me partire
Or convien contra grado, ne speranza
Di mai vederti mi rimane alcuna.
Onde morrommi, caro mio disire,
E piangero, il tempo che m' avanza,
Lontano a te, la mia crudel fortuna."

If this refers to Fiammetta, as seems certain, it should
have been written in 1 340-1. Finally, it is natural to
suppose that the greater part of the sonnets written to
Fiammetta living were composed between 1331 and 1341,
while those to Fiammetta dead were written after 1348.
From these facts I pass on to make the only possible dis-
tribution of the Rime that our present knowledge allows.

Let us begin by distinguishing the love poems from the
rest, which for the most part belong to Boccaccio's old age.
There are thirty-two poems which are not concerned with
love, namely, twenty-nine sonnets : Nos. i., vi.-xii., xxvi-
xxviii., xxxvi., xlii., xlix., lvi., lxviii., lxxiv., lxxviii., xci.-
xcvi., xcix., ci., Poi Satiro, Saturna al coltivar, Allor che
regno, and to these we may add the capitolo, the ballata
of the beautiful ladies, and the madrigal O giustizia
regina.

There are nine, if not eleven, sonnets written in morte
di Madonna Fiammetta : (xix. ?), xxi., xxix., li., (lviii. ?),
lx., lxvii., lxxiii., lxxxviii., xc, xcviii.

All the rest are love poems. Let us begin with them.
And the first question that must be answered is : Were
they all written to Fiammetta, or were some of them com-
posed for one or other of the women with whom Boccaccio
from time to time was in relations ?

Crescini tells us that it is only just to admit that at

" They say the philosophers say there are four ages ; they are adolescence,
youth, age, and old age. The first lasts till twenty-five or thirty, the second
till forty or forty-five, the third till fifty-five or sixty, the fourth till death.
Cf. Della Torre, op. cit., p. 87. In sonnet lxiv. B. says he, growing
grey,

" . . . ed ora ch' a imbiancare
Cominci, di te stesso abbi mercede."

138 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

least the greater part of the love poems of Boccaccio refer
to Fiammetta. Landau is more precise, and Antona
Traversi follows him in naming sonnets c. and ci. (the
latter we do not call a love poem) as written for Pampinea
or Abrotonia. To these Antona Traversi adds sonnets xii.
and xvii. (the former we do not call a love poem), which he
thinks were written for one of the ladies Boccaccio loved
before he met Fiammetta.1 I give them both in Rossetti's
translation : —

" By a clear well, within a little field
Full of green grass and flowers of every hue,
Sat three young girls, relating (as I knew)
Their loves. And each had twined a bough to shield
Her lovely face ; and the green leaves did yield
The golden hair their shadow ; while the two
Sweet colours mingled, both blown lightly through
With a soft wind for ever stirred and still.
After a little while one of them said
(I heard her), ' Think ! If, ere the next hour struck,
Each of our lovers should come here to-day,
Think you that we should fly or feel afraid ? '
To whom the others answered, ' From such luck
A girl would be a fool to run away.'"

That might seem to be just a thing seen, perfectly ex-
pressed, so that we too feel the enchantment of the summer
day, the stillness and the heat ; but if indeed it be written
for any one, it might seem to be rather for the blonde
Fiammetta than for any other lady.

Sonnet xvii., however, is, it seems to me as it seemed to
Rossetti, clearly Fiammetta's. Is it not a reminiscence of
happiness at Baia?

1 As to sonnet ci., both Crescini and Koerting point out that it is written
to a widow (perhaps the lady of the Corbaccio, see injra, p. 181 et seq) ; but
they consider it a mere fantasy, not referring to any real love affair. Cf. Cres-
cini, op. cil.y p. 166, note 2. Cf. a similar question to that put in the sonnet
in Filocolo (Moutier), Lib. IV, p. 94. Sonnet c. also deals with a widow :
' ' il brun vestire ed il candido velo." Who this widow really may be is an in-
soluble problem. If it be the lady of the Corbaccio, she would seem to be the
wife of Antonio Pucci, for sonnet ci. is dedicated "ad Antonio Pucci." Son-
nets lxiv., lxv., seem to refer to the same affair. As to sonnets xii. and xvii.,
the first is a fantasy and the second refers to Fiammetta in my judgment.

THE RIME 139

" Love steered my course, while yet the sun rode high,
On Scylla's waters to a myrtle grove :
The heaven was still and the sea did not move ;
Yet now and then a little breeze went by
Stirring the tops of trees against the sky :
And then I heard a song as glad as love,
So sweet that never yet the like thereof
Was heard in any mortal company.
1 A nymph, a goddess or an angel sings
Unto herself, within this chosen place,
Of ancient loves ' ; so said I at that sound.
And there my lady, 'mid the shadowings
Of myrtle trees, 'mid flowers and grassy space,
Singing I saw, with others who sat round."

Of the rest the following seem to be doubtfully addressed
to Fiammetta : l Sonnet xxxv. may refer to his abandon-
ment by Fiammetta ; cix. seems to refer to the same mis-
fortune ; lxxxi. was possibly written before he possessed
her ; but these two and xlv., lxiv., lxv., and c. seem to
Manicardi and Massera too much of the earth for Fiam-
metta, and they regard them as later work. As we
have already said,2 in sonnet lxiv. he speaks of growing
grey.

When we have disposed of these, the rest seem to
belong to Fiammetta. If we would have nothing but
certainties, however, we must distinguish. In lxvii. and lxx.
(the first in morte) her name occurs, while in xl., xli., xlvi.,
lxiii., in the ternaria, Amor che con suaforza (verse 18), and
the fragment of the sestina, her name is clearly hinted at,
as it probably is in sonnet lxxxiii. (verse n).3 Again in
iv., xv., xxxiii., lxix., Baia is spoken of; and in xxxiv.,
xlvii., xlviii., Miseno. In v. and lit Naples is named as
Parthenope ; in xxxii. and liii. the scene is on the sea, and

1 Cf. Manicardi e Massera, op. cit., p. 37.

2 Supra, p. 136, n. 1.

3 In xl. he writes, " Quella splendida fiamma " ; in xli., ** Quindi nel petto
entrommi una fiammetta"; in xlvi., " Se quella fiamma"; in lxiii., "Amo-
rosa fiamma" ; in lxxxiii., " Accese fiamme attingo a mille a mille."

140 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

near it in xxxi.1 In sonnet xxxviii. we see him falling in

love :

" All' ombra di mille arbori fronzuti,

In abito leggiadro e gentilesco,

Con gli occhi vaghi e col cianciar donnesco

Lacci tendea, da lei prima tessuti

De' suoi biondi capei crespi e soluti

Al vento lieve, in prato verde e fresco,

Un' angioletta, a' quai giungeva vesco

Tenace Amor, ed ami aspri ed acuti ;

Da quai, chi v' incappava lei mirando,

In van tentava poi lo svilupparsi ;

Tant' era Y artificio ch' ei teneva,

Ed io lo so, che me di me fidando

Piu che '1 dovere, infra i lacciuoli sparsi

Fui preso da virtu, ch' io non vedeva."

While in sonnets iii., xviii., xxiv., xxv., xxx., xl, xli., lxi.
he praises who but Fiammetta : —

" Le bionde trecce, chioma crespa e d' oro
Occhi ridenti, splendidi e soavi. . . ."

These sonnets were written to Fiammetta before the
trayal, and to them I would add sonnets xxii. and lxxxvi.-

" Se io potessi creder, che in cinqu' anni . . ."

which I have already referred to and used in suggesting
that five years passed between the innamoramento and tl
possession in Boccaccio's love affair.2

I now turn to the sonnets, which, in their dolorous coi
plaint, would seem to belong to the period after hi
betrayal. In sonnets lxxix. and lxxx. he reproves Lov(
in lxx. he swears that love is more than honour, in lvii
he invokes death as his only refuge, in lxxvii. he bun
with love and rage : —

" Ed io, dolente solo, ardo ed incendo
In tanto fuoco, che quel di Vulcano
A rispetto non e ch' una favilla."

1 Sonnets xxxi., xxxii., liii. refer without doubt to Fiammetta, but are
indeterminate in time. 2 See stipra, p. 38.

THE RIME 141

In sonnets iv., v., xliii., lv., and ballata i. he is altogether
desperate. In iv. we have the splendidly bitter invective
against Baia already quoted.1

It is true that we should not have recognised the soul
of Fiammetta as the " chastest that ever was in woman " ;
but that Boccaccio could think so is not only evidence
that he had been blind, as he says, but also of the eager-
ness of his passion. If we had any doubt of the reason of
his misery, however, it is removed by sonnets xliii., Iv., and
ballata L, where his betrayal is explicitly mentioned.2 In
sonnet xvi. a thousand ways of dying present themselves to
him ; in cv. he hopes, how vainly, to win her back again : —

" Questa speranza sola ancor mi resta,
Per la qual vivo, ingagliardisco e tremo
Dubbiando che la morte non m' in vole. . . ."

With these sonnets we should compare xxxvii., xxxix.,
xlvi., lxxv., lxxxvii., and ciii. Sonnet lxxxvii. is perhaps
the most beautiful of these poems written in despair : it
has been quoted above.3

In sonnets xiv. and lxxi. he tries to rouse himself, to
free himself, in vain, from love ;4 while in sonnet lxxii. he
likens himself to Prometheus. He bemoans his fortune
again and again in sonnets ii., xxx., Hi., ex. ; while in
xx. and cvii. he tries to hope in some future. Whether

1 See supra, p. 55.

2 " Dunque piangete, e la nemica vista
Di voi spingete col pianger piu forte,
Si ch' altro amor non possa piu tradirvi."

Sonnet xliii.
" Che dopo '1 mio lungo servire invano
Mi preponesti tal ch' assai men vale :
Caggia dal ciel saetta, che t' uccida."

Sonnet lv.
"... Veggendomi per altri esser lasciato ;
E morir non vorrei, che trapassato
Piu non vedrei il bel viso amoroso,
Per cui piango, invidioso
Di chi 1' ha fatto suo e me ne spoglia."

Ballata i.
3 See supra, p. 56. 4 Note the ''occhi falsi " in sonnet xiv.

142 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

that future ever came we do not know. There is no hint
of it in the sonnets, and on the whole one is inclined to
think it did not.1 His last sight of Fiammetta, recorded
after her death, we may find in the beautiful sonnet so
marvellously translated by Rossetti: — 2

" Round her red garland and her golden hair
I saw a fire about Fiammetta's head ;
Thence to a little cloud I watched it fade,
Than silver or than gold more brightly fair ;
And like a pearl that a gold ring doth bear,
Even so an angel sat therein, who sped
Alone and glorious throughout heaven, arra^d
In sapphires and in gold that lit the air.
Then I rejoiced as hoping happy things,
Who rather should have then discerned how God
Had haste to make my lady all His own,
Even as it came to pass. And with these stings
Of sorrow, and with life's most weary load
I dwell, who fain would be where she is gone."

Fiammetta's death is nowhere directly recorded in tl
sonnets, but in those which he made for her dead we fine
as we might expect, that much of his bitterness is past
and instead we have a sweetness and strength as of sorrow
nobly borne. Was not death better than estrangemenl
for who will deny anything to God, who robs us all ? Ant
so in that prayer to Dante we have not only the best of
these sonnets, but the noblest too, the strongest and the
most completely human. No one will to-day weep wit!
Dante for Beatrice, or with Petrarch for Madonna Laun
but these tears are our own : —

"Dante, if thou within the sphere of love,
As I believe, remain'st contemplating
Beautiful Beatrice, whom thou didst sing
Erewhile, and so wast drawn to her above ; —
Unless from false life true life thee remove
So far that love's forgotten, let me bring
One prayer before thee : for an easy thing
This were, to thee whom I do ask it of.

1 But see sonnet lviii. 2 Sonnet lxvii.

THE RIME 143

I know that where all joy doth most abound
In the Third Heaven, my own Fiammetta sees
The grief that I have borne since she is dead.
O pray her (if mine image be not drown'd
In Lethe) that her prayers may never cease
Until I reach her and am comforted."1

Again in sonnet lxxiii. he sees her before God's throne
mong the blessed : —

" Si acceso e fervente e il mio desio
Di seguitar colei, che quivi in terra
Con il suo altero sdegno mi fe' guerra
Infin allor ch' al ciel se ne salio,
Che non ch' altri, ma me metto in oblio,
E parmi nel pensier, che sovent' erra,
Quella gravezza perder che m' atterra,
E quasi uccel levarmi verso Dio,
E trapassar le spere, e pervenire
Davanti al divin trono infra i beati,
E lei veder, che seguirla mi face,
Si bella, ch' io nol so poscia ridire,
Quando ne' luoghi lor son ritornati
Gli spiriti, che van cercando pace."

Jke Laura, it is true, but more like herself,2 she visits
ter lover in a dream (sonnets xix., xxix,, and lxxxviii.).3
\11 these sonnets were not necessarily or even prob-
ably written immediately after Fiammetta's death. The
nought of her was present with Boccaccio during the
est of his life,4 and it is noteworthy and moving that at
he age of sixty-one he should thus address Petrarch dead
n a sonnet (xcvii.) : —

" Or sei salito, caro Signor mio
Nel regno, al qual salire ancora aspetta
Ogn' anima da Dio a quello eletta,
Nel suo partir di questo mondo rio ;

1 Sonnet Ix. Cf. Dante, Paradiso, iv. 28-39.

2 Cf. supra, p. 16.

3 Cf. CRBSCINI, op. cit., p. 167, note 3.

4 Cf. sonnets xxi., li., lxxvii., lxxxiii., and cf. Manicardi e Massera,
>A cit.y p. 50.

144 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

Or se' cola, dove spesso il desio
Di tiro gia per veder Lauretta
Or sei dove la mia bella Fiammetta
Siede cui lei nel cospetto di Dio . . .

Deh ! se a grado ti fui nel mondo errante,
Tirami dietro a te, dove giojoso
Veggia colei, che pria di amor m' accese."

Such was the poet Boccaccio.

In turning now for a moment to look for his masters in
verse, we shall find them at once in Dante and Petrarch.
In his sonnets he followed faithfully the classic scheme,
and only three times did he depart from it, adding a coda
formed of two rhyming hendecasyllabic lines. Nor is he
more original in the subject of his work. Fiammetta is, up
to a certain point, the sister of Beatrice and of Laura, a
more human sister, but she remains always for him la mia
Fiammetta, never passing into a symbol as Beatrice did for
Dante or into a sentiment as Laura for Petrarch.

Finally, in considering his place as a poet, we must
admit that it has suffered by the inevitable comparison of
his work with that of Dante and of Petrarch. Neverthe-
less, in his own time the fame of his poems was spread
throughout Italy. Petrarch thought well of them, and
both Bevenuto Rambaldi da Imola and Coluccio Salutati
hailed him as a poet : it was the dearest ambition of his
life and that about which he was most modest. Best of
all, Franco Sacchetti, his only rival as a novelist, if indeed
he has a rival, and a fine and charming poet too, hearing
of his death, wrote these verses : —

" Ora e mancata ogni poesia
E vote son le case di Parnaso,
Poiche morte n' ha tolto ogni valore.
S' io piango, o grido, che miracolo fia
Pensando, che un sol c' era rimaso
Giovan Boccacci, ora e di vita fore ? *

CHAPTER X

BOCCACCIO AS AMBASSADOR — THE MEETING
WITH PETRARCH

4S we have seen, Boccaccio returned to Florence
/% probably in the end of 1349. His father, who
/ — ^ was certainly living in July, 1348, for he then
.X. _m^ added a codicil to his Will,1 seems still to
have been alive in May, 1349,2 but by January, 1350, he is
spoken of as dead and Giovanni is named as one of his
heirs.3 And in the same month of January, 1350, on the
26th of the month, Boccaccio was appointed guardian of
his brother Jacopo,4 then still a child. But these were not

1 See supra, p. 128.

2 See Crescini, op. cit. , p. 258. He quotes the following from Libro Primo
del Monte, Quartiere S. Spirito, cap. 162: "Anno mcccxlviij [= 1349 ms.]
Ind ja die nono mensis Maij positum est dictum creditum ad aliam rationem
dicti Boccaccij sive Boccaccini in presenti quarterio ad car 1 10. ad instan-
tiam eiusdem Bocchaccij per me dinum M1 Attaviani notarium."

3 Cf. Crescini, op. cit., p. 258. He quotes the following from the Libro
Primo above, cap. nob: " Mcccxlviiij, Ind iija die xxv Ianuarij, de licencia
lomini Iohannis filij et heredis, ut dixit, dicti Boccaccij hereditario nomine
;oncessa dicto per me Bartalum maccatelli notarium positum est dictum
:reditum in libro quarterij Se Crucis et carta 50."

4 The document is quoted by Manni, op. cit., p. 21. It is as follows:
"Mcccxlviiij 26 Ianuarii D. Ioannes q. Boccacci pop. S. Felicitatis tutor
Iacobi pupilli eius fratris, et filii quondam, et heredis D. Bicis olim matris suae,
et uxoris q. dicti Boccaccii, et hike q. Ubaldini Nepi de Bosticcis."

Sanesi, in Rassegna Bib. della Lett. It. (Pisa, 1893), Vol. I, No. 4, p. 120
it seq., publishes a document dated May 17, 1351, in which certain " actores,
factores et certos numptios speciales " are appointed to act with Giovanni as
guardians of Jacopo, viz. Ser Domenico di Jacopo and Ser Francesco di
Vanello notari fiorentini. This leads Sanesi to suggest that Boccaccio was a
failure as a guardian. The document, however, by no means deposes him and

L 145

146 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO Clo-

the only duties which fell to him in that year, which, as it
proved, was to mark a new departure in his life. It is in
1350 that we find him, for the first time as we may think,
acting as ambassador for the Florentine Republic, and it
is in 1350 that he first met Petrarch face to face and
entertained him in his house in Florence.

The condition of Italy at this time was, as may be easily
understood, absolutely anarchical. While Florence and
Naples were still in the throes of revolution and war, the
Visconti of Milan had not been idle. Using every discon-
tent that could be found in Italy, chiefly of Ghibelline
origin, they were in the way to threaten whatsoever was
left of liberty and independence. In the worst of this con-
fusion the plague had suddenly appeared in 1348 with the
same result as an earthquake might have caused. Old
landmarks were overthrown, wealth was, as it were, re-
distributed, and the whole social condition, often bad
enough, became indescribably confused.

The economical results of that awful catastrophe, not
only for Italy, but for Europe, were not easily defined or
realised anywhere, and least of all perhaps in Italy, where
the conditions of life were so complex. An enormous
displacement of riches had taken place. All those in any
way concerned with the ministration to the sick or the
burial of the dead were, if they survived, greatly enriched ;
and among these was such a society as that of the Or San
Michele. But individuals also found themselves suddenly
wealthy : doctors and druggists, undertakers, drapers, and
poulterers, and such, all who had been able to render help
were seemingly benefited, but the farmers and the mer-
chants were ruined. Something perhaps of the awful
transformation brought about by the plague may be

on the same day he inscribed himself in the Matricoli dell' Arte dei Giudici et
Notai. The document speaks of "Iacobi . . . pupilli majoris tamen infante,"
which leads Sanesi to think that Jacopo was out of his infancy. Crescini in
Rassegna Bib., cit., An. I, Nos. 8-9, pp. 243-5, disputes Sanesi's conclusions
as to the incapacity of Giovanni and the age of Jacopo. I agree with Crescini.

lit

1350 BOCCACCIO AS AMBASSADOR 147

realised when we consider that, according to Boccaccio,
Florence lost three out of every five1 of her inhabitants,
that is about 100,000 persons, that at Pisa six out of every
seven died, that Genoa lost 40,000 people, Siena 80,000,
while every one died at Trapani, in Sicily, not a soul
escaping. Old Agnola de Tura, the Sienese historian,
tells us that he buried five of his sons in the same grave,
and this was not extraordinary. The economic result of
such disaster may then be better imagined than described
in detail. No one realised what had happened : it was in-
conceivable. Even the governments did not understand
the new position. They saw the needy suddenly rich,
those who had been clothed in rags went in silks and
French fashions, and they came to the conclusion that the
state was suffering from too great wealth : they revived
sumptuary laws, raised taxes, fixed prices, and did, in fact,
no good, but much harm. The problem to be solved was
that of population and the prices of production. The
moral condition was as disastrous as the economic and
left a more lasting scar.

In this helpless and disastrous condition of the major
part of Italy, from which indeed some of the communes
never wholly recovered,2 we find what in fact we might
have expected, that those who had suffered least threatened
to become dominant. Now, as it happened, of all Italy
upper and lower Milan had escaped most easily, and it
was in fact a domination of Milan that, with Naples in
the grip of the invader and Tuscany almost depopulated,
Florence had to face.

Things came to a head when the Visconti, in October,
^S0* possessed themselves of Bologna. In such a case
Florence might have expected help or at least resentment,
one might think, from the Romagna, but the unruly barons
of that region were fighting for their lives and their lord-

1 This was about the average loss throughout Europe.

2 Siena never really recovered, nor did Pisa.

148 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [»3,

ships with Duraforte, whom the Pope had sent to bring
them to order. Nor were Venice and Genoa able to render
her aid, for they had entered on a mortal duel and cared
for nothing else. Naples of course was helpless, and
Siena and Perugia, the one stricken almost to death by
the plague, the other confident in her mountain passes,
thought themselves too far for the ambition of Milan.

So Florence faced the enemy alone, and while we admire
her courage we must admit that she had no choice, for she
would never have moved at all, nor in her condition
would she have been justified in moving, but that she
was directly threatened ; for with Bologna in the hands of
Milan her northern trade routes were at the mercy of the
enemy. Thus it became necessary before all else to secure
the Apennine passes, and this she foresaw so well that in
February, 1350, she bought Prato from the Queen of
Naples, who held her rights by inheritance from her father,
Charles of Calabria ; and not content with this, for Prato was
no use without Pistoia, she tried to seize Pistoia also.
There, however, she was not wholly or at first successful,
but she was allowed to garrison the citadel as well as two
important fortified places after guaranteeing full freedom to
the Pistolese. In the former of these transactions, the
donation of Prato, carried out by Niccolo Acciaiuoli, we
catch a glimpse of Boccaccio, who was present as a witness
in Florence.1

Just before the sale of Bologna to the Visconti we find
Boccaccio in Romagna at Ravenna, whither he had gone
apparently in September, as we have seen,2 on the delicate
and honourable mission entrusted to him by the Society
of Or San Michele, of presenting a gift of ten gold florins
to the daughter of Dante, a nun in the convent of
S. Stefano dell' Uliva in that city. Thence he seems to
have gone as ambassador for the republic to Francesco

1 Cf. Tanfani, Niccola Acciamoli, studi storici (Firenze, 1863), p. 82.

2 Supra, p. 120, n. I.

i3Si] BOCCACCIO AS AMBASSADOR 149

degli Ordelaffi of Forll, who was of course already known
to him. This, however, is unfortunately but conjecture.
We know in fact almost nothing of what, for reasons
which will presently appear, I consider to have been
Boccaccio's first embassy. All that we can assert is that
before November 11, 1350, he went as ambassador into
Romagna, and this we know from a document cited by the
Abate Menus,1 bearing that date which says, " Dominus
Johannes Boccacci olim ambasciator transmissus ad partes
Romandioliae." 2 Baldelli tells us 3 without supporting his
assertions by a single document that Boccaccio went three
times as ambassador for the republic into Romagna : first
in the time of Ostasio da Polenta ; later in October, 1350 ;
and again a few months after. The first of these em-
bassies, that to Ostasio, he bases on Petrarch's letter of
1365, which we have already quoted and used.4 There
Petrarch says : " Ortus est Adriae in litore ea ferme aetate,
nisi fallor, qua tu ibi agebas cum antiquo plagse illius
Domino ejus avo, qui nunc praesidet." That is to say, he
says to Boccaccio : " Unless I am mistaken, you were on
the shores of the Adriatic in the time of the grandfather
of him who now rules there." He is speaking of Ravenna,
not of Rimini, and quite apart from the fact that he says,
" unless I am mistaken " — and he may have been mis-
taken— there is no mention there of an embassy, but only

1 Mehus, Ambrosii Traversarii Vita (Firenze, 1759).

2 It has been said by Hortis that the "olim " is unlikely to have referred
to so recent an embassy, one which, in fact, was only in being two months
before. I do not see the force of this. The "olim" is used in our sense of
late, "the late ambassador." In November, as we shall see, Boccaccio was
back in Florence. In the sense of " late " we find the ' ' olim " used in the docu-
ment already quoted in which Giovanni is appointed guardian of his brother
Jacopo {supra, cap. x. n. 4) : " . . . et heredis D. Bids olim matris suae," i.e.
and heir of Donna Bice, his late mother."

3 Baldelli, op. cit., p. 377. Baldelli seems here to have confused him-
self— at any rate he expresses himself badly. It is difficult to see clearly
what he means. He is wrong too when he gives the commission from the
Or San Michele as being of the month of December ; Landau follows
him in this. The commission was of the month of September. See supra,
p. 120, n. 1.

4 See supra, p. 119, n. 1.

150 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [135°-

of a visit, a visit to Ostasio da Polenta, who died in 1346,
and was the grandfather of Guido da Polenta, who ruled
in Ravenna when that letter was written in 1365. We
have already used this letter to prove the date of that visit,
in doing which we are making legitimate use of it, but to
'try to prove an embassy from it is to use it improperly.

The second embassy, Baldelli tells us, was to Francesco
degli Ordelaffi, in October, 1350, " after the sale of Bologna
on the 14th of that month." This again is pure con-
jecture, the only document which supports it being that
quoted above, discovered by Mehus. We have, however,
reason to suppose that Baldelli may be right here,1 and
may possibly have been in possession of a document or
documents since lost to us, which unfortunately he has not
quoted or even named. We know at least that Boccaccio
was ambassador in Romagna before November 11, 1350.
Now until late in 1349 we have seen him in Naples, and in
January and February, 1350, in Florence. In October,
1350, we know him to have been in Florence again, for he
there entertained Petrarch, as he did in December. What
was he doing between February and October in that year ?

1 Ciampi, Monumenti di un Manoscritto autograft di Messer G. B.
(Firenze, 1827), goes further than Baldelli and is in evident error. He connects
this embassy of 1350 with the descent of King Louis of Hungary. This
is impossible. That Boccaccio did meet King Louis in lorli, and that he
accompanied him with "suo signore " Francesco degli Oruelaffi into Cam-
pania is certain, as we have seen {supra, p. 124) ; but that was in 1347, not in
1350, and when he was a visitor at Forli, not when he was Florentine ambassa-
dor there. How could he call Ordelaffo ' ' suo signore " when he was the servant
of Florence ? And how could he follow Ordelaffo and the King, when he was
ambassador, without the permission of Florence ? Moreover, according to
Ciampi, all this occurred, not in 1347, but in 1350. Now in May, 1350, King
Louis was in Aversa, and from February, 1350, Ordelaffo was fighting the
Papal arms in Romagna, which had been turned against him on account of
the rebellion of the Manfredi of Faenza, which he was supposed to have
instigated. We see him victor in fight after fight ; he took Bertinoro in May,
Castracaro in July, Meldola in August, and the war continued throughout
1 35 1 and longer. In 1350 then neither did the King descend into Italy nor
did Ordelaffo accompany him. These things happened in 1347. Besides, in
February, 1350, Boccaccio was in accord with Niccolo Acciaiuoli and, as we
have seen, assisted as witness at the donation of Prato. Cf. Tanfani, Niccolb
Acciaiuoli, pp. 79-82.

IS>] BOCCACCIO AS AMBASSADOR 151

Well, in September he was in Romagna, in Ravenna ful-
filling his mission from the Or San Michele to the daughter
of Dante. It seems likely, therefore, that it was at this
time he was acting as Florentine ambassador at the court
of the Ordelaffi of ForlL

As to the third embassy of which Baldelli speaks, that
to Bernardino da Polenta " a few months after " the
second, we know nothing of it, and it remains absolutely
in the air — a mere conjecture.1

Putting aside Baldelli's assertion, we may take it on the
evidence as most probable that Boccaccio was the am-
bassador of Florence in Romagna at some time between
March and October, 1350. If we are right in thinking so,
his mission was of very great importance. What Florence
feared, as we have seen, was the growing power of Milan,
and, after the sale of Bologna, the loss of her trade
routes north, and finally perhaps even her liberty.
Already, in the latter part of 1349,2 she had offered
again and again to mediate between the Pope and
Bologna and Romagna, fearing that in their distraction
Milan would be tempted to interfere for her own ends.
In the first months of 1350 she had written to the Pope, to
Perugia, Siena, and to the Senate of Rome, that they
should send ambassadors to the congress at Arezzo to
form a confederation for their common protection.3 In
September she wrote the Pope more than once explaining
affairs to him ; but he had touched Visconti gold, and far
away in Avignon cared nothing and paid but little heed.
The sale of Bologna, however, brought things to a crisis so
far as the policy of Florence was concerned, and having
secured Prato, Pistoia, and the passes, her ambassadors in

1 Of course, Boccaccio was in Ravenna in September, 1350, and probably
saw Bernardino there, for he must have known him very well.

2 See the letter to the Pope of September 10, 1349, given in Arch. Stor.
Ital.t Series I, Appendix, Vol. VI, p. 369.

3 See the letters of February 17, February 23, February 28, 1350, in
Arch., cit., u.s., pp. 373-4.

152 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [135°-

Romagna had apparently induced the Pepoli to replac
Bologna under the protection of the communes of Florence
Siena, and Perugia, till the Papal army was ready to ac
But the Papal army was not likely to be ready so long a
Visconti was willing to pay,1 and we find the Pope, whil
he thanks Florence effusively, refusing to acknowledge
the claim of the League to protect Bologna. The sale of
Bologna to Milan, its seizure by the Visconti, brought all
the diplomacy of Florence to naught for the moment, and
in another letter, written on November 9, 1350,2 she
returns once more to plead with the Pope and to point ou
to him the danger of the invasions of the Visconti
Lombardy and in Bologna, which placed in peril no
only the Parte Guelfa, but the territories of the Churc
and the Florentine contado. By the time that letter wa
written Boccaccio was back in Florence, and it must hav
been evident to the Florentines that the Pope had n
intention of giving them any assistance and that they mu
look elsewhere for an ally.

That year, so troubled in Italy, incongruous as it ma
seem to us, had been proclaimed by the Pope a year
Jubilee, not without some intention that the Papal coffer;
should benefit from the faithful, then eager to express thei
piety and their thankfulness for the passing of the plagu
To gain the indulgence of the Jubilee it was necessary t
spend fifteen days in Rome. On April 17, 1350, th
commune of Florence prayed the Papal Legate, partly, n
doubt, on account of the unsettled condition of the City
and partly, perhaps, that Florence itself might not be Ion

1 " The luxury, vice, and iniquity of Avignon during the Papal residenc
became proverbial throughout Europe ; and the corruption of the Churcl
was most clearly visible in the immediate neighbourhood of its princely head.
Luxury and vice, however, are costly, and during the Pope's absence from
Italy the Papal States were in confusion and yielded scanty revenues. Monej
had to be raised from ecclesiastical property throughout Europe, and the
Popes in Avignon carried extortion and oppression of the Church to an
extent it had never reached before " (Creighton, History of the Papacy,
Vol. I, p. 51).

2 Letter of November, 1350, in Arch., cit., u.s., p. 378.

I«

2 «g

< >r £

2^ 2

X «.Jj

-5 ~

135*] THE MEETING WITH PETRARCH 153

without as many citizens as possible, to reduce the term of
fifteen days to eight for all Florentines and for those who
dwelt in the contado}

Now Petrarch, always a man of sincere piety, and
especially at this time when he was mourning for Laura,
had spent the earlier months of the year in Padua, Parma,
and Verona. On February 14, the feast of S. Valentine,
he had been present at the translation of the body of
S. Anthony of Padua from its first resting-place to the
church just built in its honour — II Santo. On June 20
he had taken formal possession of his archdeaconry in
Parma; and so it was not till the beginning of October
that he set out, alone, on pilgrimage for Rome to win the
indulgences of the Jubilee. As it happened, he travelled
by way of Florence, entering that city for the first time
about the middle of the month, and there, as is generally
supposed, for the first time too, he met Boccaccio face to
face.2

Petrarch, born in Arezzo on July 20, 1304, was nine
years older than Boccaccio, and differed from him so much
both in intellect and character that the two friends may
almost be said to complement one another. Of a very

1 Arch. Ster. It., u.s., p. 376.

2 It seems certain that they had been in correspondence for some years,
perhaps for more than fifteen. In the letter to Boccaccio of January 7, 1351,
Petrarch speaks of a poem that Boccaccio had long since sent him (? 1349)
{Family XI, 1); while in the letter to Franceschino da Brossano, written
alter Petrarch's death in 1374, Boccaccio says "I was his for forty years
or more" (Corazzini, op. cit.y p. 382). This would seem to mean he
had loved his work for so long, and brings us to 1 341-4. It still seems to
me just doubtful whether this meeting in Florence in 1350 was their first
encounter. As I have said, Petrarch came to Florence in October; by
November 2 he was in Rome, whence he wrote Boccaccio on that date an
account of his journey. Now as we shall presently see, in a letter written much
later (Epist. Fam., XXI, 15), he distinctly says that he first met Boccaccio,
who had come to meet him when he was hurrying across Central Italy in mid-
winter. No one, least of all an Italian and a somewhat scrupulous scholar,
could call October 15 midwinter. Perhaps then it will be said that he met
him on his return from Rome in December. But already in November he is
writing to Boccaccio — we have the letter — in the most familiar and affectionate
terms. Can it be that they met after all (see supra, pp. 60 and m) in 1341 or
perhaps in 1343? The problem seems insoluble on our present information.

154 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

noble nature, Petrarch was nevertheless introspecti
jealous of his reputation, and absolutely personal in his
attitude towards life, of which, as his work shows, he was
in many ways so shy. Nor was he without a certain
puritanism which was his weakness as well as his strength.
As a scholar he was at this time, as he always remained,
incomparably Boccaccio's superior. For Boccaccio the
ancient world was a kind of wonder and miracle that had
no relation to himself or to the modern world. But
Petrarch regarded antiquity almost as we do, and, though
necessarily without our knowledge of detail, such as it is,
with a real historic sense — as a living thing with which it
was possible, though hardly, to hold communion, by which
it was possible to be guided, governed, and taught, a
reality out of which the modern world was born. More-
ever, in 1350, at the time of his meeting with Boccaccio,
Petrarch was indubitably the most renowned poet and
man of letters in Europe. Every one knew his sonnets, and
his incoronation as Laureate on the Capitol had sufficed
in the imagination of the world, quite apart from the
intrinsic and very real value of his work, to set him above
all other poets of his time. He was the Pope's friend, and
was honoured and welcomed in every court in Italy — at
the court, for instance, of King Robert of Naples, where
he had left so splendid a memory on his way to the triumph
of the Capitol, at the courts of the signorotti of the
Romagna. The youth of Italy had his sonnets by heart ;
all women read with envy his praise of Madonna Laura;
the learned reverenced him as the most learned man of
his time and thought him the peer of Virgil and of Cicero.
Nor was the Church behind in an admiration wherein all
the world was agreed, for she saw in the lettered canonico
the glory of the priesthood, and would gladly have led
him forward to the highest honours.1 It was this man,
one of the most famous and as it happened one of

1 Cf. HORTIS, Op. cit., pp. 509-IO.

I35i] THE MEETING WITH PETRARCH 155

the best of the age, that Boccaccio met in Florence
in 1350.

Petrarch himself gives us an account of their first
meeting.1

" In days gone by," he says in a letter to Boccaccio,2
" I was hurrying across Central Italy in midwinter ;
you hastened to greet me, not only with affection, the
message of soul to soul, but in person, impelled by a
wonderful desire to see one you had never yet beheld, but
whom nevertheless you were minded to love. You had
sent before you a piece of beautiful verse, thus showing
me first the aspect of your genius and then of your person.
It was evening and the light was fading, when, returning
from my long exile, I found myself at last within my
native walls. You welcomed me with a courtesy and re-
spect greater than I merited, recalling the poetic meeting
of Anchises with the king of Arcadia, who, " in the ardour
of youth," longed to speak with the hero and to press his
hand.3 Although I did not, like him, stand "above all
others," but rather beneath, your zeal was none the less
ardent. You introduced me, not within the walls of
Pheneus, but into the sacred penetralia of your friendship.
Nor did I present you with a " superb quiver and arrows of
Lycia," but rather with my sincere and unchangeable
affection. While acknowledging my inferiority in many
respects, I will never willingly concede it in this either to
Nisus or to Pythias or to Laelius. — Farewell."

Thus began a friendship that lasted nearly twenty-five
years. They were, says Filippo Villani, " one soul in two
bodies."

But Petrarch did not remain long in Florence ; after a

1 I have already shown {supra, p. 153, n. 2) that it is possible to doubt
whether the meeting in Florence was their first meeting. It is, however,
generally accepted as the first by modern scholars. Cf. Landau and Antona
Traversi.

2 Cf. Epistol. Family Lib. XXI, 15.

3 See sEneid, VIII, 162 et seq.

156 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [»a

few days he hurried on to Rome, whence he wrote
Boccaccio on his arrival : —

"... After leaving you I betook myself, as you
know, to Rome, where the year of Jubilee has called —
sinners that we are — almost all Christendom. In order
not to be condemned to the burden of travelling alone
I chose some companions for the way ; of whom one,
the oldest, by the prestige of his age and his religious
profession, another by his knowledge and talk, others
by their experience of affairs and their kind affection,
seemed likely to sweeten the journey that nevertheless was
very tiring. I took these precautions, which were rather
wise than happy as the event proved, and I went with a
fervent heart, ready to make an end at last of my iniqui-
ties. For, as Horace says, ■ I am not ashamed of past
follies, but I should be, if now I did not end them.' ! For-
tune, I hope, has not and will not be able to alter m]
resolution in anything. . . ." 2

But as he himself seems to have feared, he was unlucl
that day, for as he passed with his companions up the hill
side out of Bolsena he was kicked badly on the leg by hi
companion's horse and came to Rome with difficulty, suffei
ing great pain all the time he was there. He seems
have reached the City on November I, and to have left it
again early in December for Arezzo, his birthplace, where
he was received with extraordinary honour. Thence he
returned to Florence, where he again saw Boccaccio with
his friends Lapo da Castiglionchio and Francescho Nelli,
whose father had been Gonfalonier of Justice and who
himself became Secretary to Niccolo Acciaiuoli when he
was Grand Seneschal of Naples. Nelli was in Holy
Orders and Prior of SS. Apostoli. Lapo was a man of
great learning ; he now presented Petrarch with a copy of
the newly discovered Institutions of Quintillian.

1 Horace, Epistolce, Lib. I, 14.

2 Epistol. FamiL, Lib. XI, 1.

r35i] THE MEETING WITH PETRARCH 157

In the New Year Petrarch left Florence, and three
months later we find Boccaccio visiting him in Padua as
ambassador for the republic, which, no doubt to his de-
light and very probably at his suggestion, wished to offer
the great poet a chair in her new university. For partly
in rivalry with Pisa, partly to attract foreigners and even
new citizens after the plague,1 the republic had founded
a new university in Florence at the end of 1348, to which,
in May, 1349, Pope Clement VI had conceded all the
privileges and liberties of the universities of Paris and
Bologna. For some reason or another, however, the new
university had not brought to Florence either the fame or
the population she desired. It was therefore a brilliant
and characteristic policy which prompted her to invite the
most famous man of learning of the day to accept a chair
in it ; for if Petrarch could have been persuaded to accept
the offer, the university of Florence would have easily
outshone any other then in existence : all Italy and half
Europe might well have flocked thither.

The offer thus made, and if at Boccaccio's suggestion,
then so far as he was concerned in all good faith, was
characteristic in its impudence or astonishing in its gener-
osity according to the point of view, for it will be. re-
membered that Florence had banished Petrarch's father
and confiscated his goods and all such property as it
could lay its hands on two years before the birth of his
son in 1302. With him into exile went his young wife.
They found a refuge in the Ghibelline city of Arezzo, where
for this cause Petrarch was born. Even in 1350, the year
in which the poet entered Florence for the first time, the
decree of banishment was in force against him; had he
been less famous, less well protected, he would have been
in peril of his life. As it was, Florence dared not attack
him ; nor, seeing the glory he had won, did she wish to do
anything but claim a share in it.

1 Cf. M. Villani, in R. /. 6"., XIV, 18.

158 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1350-

It was doubtless this consideration and some remem-
brance of her humiliation before the contempt of that
other exile who had died in Ravenna, that prompted
Florence, always so business-like, to try to repair the
wrong she had done to Petrarch. So she decided to
return him in money the value of the property confiscated
from his father, and to send Boccaccio on the delicate
mission of persuading him to accept the offer she now
made him of a chair in her university.1 With a letter then
from the Republic, Boccaccio set out for Padua in the
spring of 1351, meeting Petrarch there, as De Sade tells
us, on April 6, the anniversary of the day of Petrarch's
first meeting with Laura and of her death.

The letter which Boccaccio took with him was from the
Prior of the Arti ; Reverendo Viro D. Francisco Petrarcha,
Canonico Padoano, Laureato Poetae, concivi nostro caris-
simo, Prior Artium Vexillifer Justitiae Populi et Communis
Florentiae. It was very flattering, laudatory, and moving.
It greeted Petrarch as a citizen of Florence, spoke of his
"admirable profession," his "excellent merit in studies,"
his " utter worthiness of the laurel crown," his " most rare
genius which shall be an example to latest posterity,"
etc. etc. etc. Then it spoke of the offer. " No long time
since," it said, " seeing our city deprived of learning and
study, we wisely decided that henceforth the arts must
flourish and ought to be cultivated among us, and that it

1 The chair was to be in any faculty Petrarch chose. D. Rossetti insists
that it was offered at Boccaccio's suggestion {Petrarca, Giulio Celso t
Boccaccio (Trieste, 1823), p. 351), and asserts that the short biography of
Petrarch which he attributes to Boccaccio was composed to persuade the
Government of Florence to repair Petrarch's wrongs. Tiraboschi {op. cit..
Vol. II, pp. 253-4), with tears in his voice, cannot decide whether the affair
did more honour to Petrarch or to Florence. So far as Florence is con-
cerned, I see no honour in the affair at all. She was asking Petrarch to do
her an inestimable service by bolstering up her third-rate university. In
order to get him to do this, she was willing to pay back what she had stolen
and (a poor gift when she was begging for foreigners as citizens) to repeal
the edict of banishment against him. Petrarch treated the whole impudent
attempt to get round him in the right way. And Florence, when she found
nothing was to be got out of him, repealed the repeal. But surely we know
the Florentines !

35i] THE MEETING WITH PETRARCH 159

vould be necessary to introduce studies of every sort into
>ur city so that by their help our Republic, like Rome of
)ld, should be glorious above the other cities of Italy and
jrow always more happy and more illustrious. Now our
atherland believes that you are the one and only man by
vhom this result can be attained. The Republic prays
/ou, then, as warmly as it may, to give yourself to these
studies and to make them flourish. . . ." So on and so
brth, quoting Virgil, Sallust, and Cicero, with allu-
sions to that "immortal work the Africa which . . ."
Boccaccio was to do the rest. " Other things," the letter
^nds, " many and of infinitely greater consideration, you
>vill hear from Giovanni Boccaccio, our citizen, who is sent
:o you by special commission. . . .'n

With this letter in his pocket Boccaccio made his way
to Padua, where* as we know, he was delighted to come,
nor was Petrarch less happy to see him. And when he
returned he bore Petrarch's answer to the Republic :
' Boccaccio, the bearer of your letter and of your com-
mands, will tell you how I desire to obey you and what
are my projects." No doubt while Boccaccio was with
him, seeing his sincerity, Petrarch felt half inclined to
accept ; but he was at all times infirm of purpose. u If I
break my word that I have given to my friends," he
writes,2 "it is because of the variation of the human
spirit, from which none is exempt except the perfect man.
Uniformity is the mother of boredom, that one can only
avoid by changing one's place." However that may be,
when later in the year he left Padua, it was to return not
to Florence, but to France.

If we know nothing else of this embassy, we know, at
least, that this sojourn in Padua passed pleasantly for
Boccaccio. In a letter written to Petrarch from Ravenna,

1 Corazzini, op. cit.y p. 391, and Hortis, Boccaccio Ambasciatore in
Avignone (Trieste, 1875).
a Epist. Family II, xii.

160 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1350

in July, 1353,1 he reminds his "best master" of his visit
" I think," he writes, " that you have not forgotten how
when less than three years ago I came to you in Padus
the ambassador of our Senate, my commission fulfilled, 1
remained with you for some days, and how that those days
were all passed in the same way : you gave yourself tc
sacred studies, and I, desiring your compositions, copiec
them. When the day waned to sunset we left work anc
went into your garden, already filled by spring with
flowers and leaves. . . . Now sitting, now talking, we
passed what remained of the day in placid and delightful
idleness, even till night."

Some of that talk was doubtless given to Letters, but
some too fell, as it could not but do, on politics. For that
letter, so charming in the scene it brings before us of that
garden at nightfall, goes on to speak in a transparent
allegory of the affairs of Italy and of Petrarch's sudden
change of plans, for whereas in 1351 he had promised to
enter the service of Florence and had cursed the Visconti.
when he returned to Italy in 1353, it was with these very
Visconti he had taken shameful service — with the enemies
of "his own country" Florence, whom he had spurned,
and who in return had repealed the repeal of his banish-
ment and refrained from returning to him the money value
of his father's possessions. Is it in revenge for this,
Boccaccio asks, that he has taken service with the enemy?
He reproaches him in the subtlest and gentlest way, yet
with an eager patriotism that does him the greatest
honour, representing him to himself even as a third person,
one Sylvanus, who " had been of their company " in
Padua. Yet Boccaccio does not spare him, and ..though he
loved and revered him beyond any other living man, he
bravely tells him his mind and points out his treachery,
when his country is at stake.

That Sylvanus, it seems — Petrarch himself really-
1 Cf. Corazzini, op. cit., p. 47.

1350 THE MEETING WITH PETRARCH 161

lamented bitterly enough the unhappy state of Italy,

neglected by the Emperors and the Popes, and exposed to

the brutality and tyranny of the Archbishop Giovanni

Visconti of Milan. More and more he cursed the tyrants,

and especially the Visconti, and " how eagerly you agreed

with him ! . . . But now," the letter continues,1 " I have

heard that this Sylvanus is about to enter the service of

those very Visconti, who even now menace his country. I

would not have believed it had not I had a letter from

him in which he tells me it is so himself. Who would

; ever have suspected him of so much mobility of character,

or as likely to forswear his own faith out of greediness?

But he has done so perhaps to avenge himself on his

fellow-citizens who have retaken the property of his father,

I which they had once returned to him. But what man of

honour, even when he has received a wrong from his

! country, would unite himself with her enemies ? How

much has Sylvanus mystified and compromised, by these

I acts, all his admirers and friends. . . ."

Just here we come upon something noble and firm in
the character of Boccaccio, something of the "nationalism"
too which was to be the great force of the future,
to which Petrarch was less clairvoyant and which Dante
had never perceived at all. The Empire was dead ; in
less than a hundred years men were to protest they did
not understand what it meant. The Papacy then too
seemed almost as helpless as it is to-day. Internationalism
— the latest cry of the modern decadent or dreamer — was
already a mere ghost frightened and gibbering in the
dawn, and the future lay in the growth of nationalities, in
the variety and freedom of the world, perhaps in the
federation of Italy. Were these the thoughts that
occupied the two pioneers of the modern world on those
spring nights in that garden at Padua ?

1 Corazzini, op. cit., p. 47. Letter of July, 1353. Petrarch in May-
June, 1353) had accepted the patronage of Giovanni Visconti.

CHAPTER XI

J35I-I352
TWO EMBASSIES

BOCCACCIO did well to be anxious. The greed of
the Visconti, the venality and indifference of the
Pope, threatened the very liberty of Tuscany, and
though Boccaccio had till now held no perma-
nent public office in Florence, we have seen him as a wit-
ness to the donation of Prato, as ambassador for the
Republic in Romagna, and as its representative offering
Petrarch a chair in the new university. He was now to
be entrusted with a more delicate and serious mission.
But first, on his return from Padua in January-February,
135 1, he became one of the Camarlinghi del Comune.1
During the remainder of that year we seem to see him
quietly at work in Florence,2 most probably on the Decame-
ron, and then suddenly in December he was called upon
to go on a mission to Ludwig of Brandenburg, Count of
Tyrol.*

1 Cf. Crescini, op. cif.t p. 258. I quote the document. Camarlinghi
del Comune Quad. 75 and 76 Gennaio-Febbraio 1350-1. "In dei nomine
amen. Hie est liber sive quaternus In se continens solutiones factas tempore
Religiosorum virorum fratris Benedicti caccini et fratris Iacopi Iohannis de
ordine fratrum sancti marci de flor. Et discretorum virorum domini
Iohannis Bocchaccij de Certaldo pro quarterio S1 Spiritus et Pauli Neri de
bordonibus pro quarterio Se Marie novelle laicorum, civium florentinorum,
camerariorum camere comunis florentie pro duobus mensibus initiatis die
primo mensis Ianuarij Millesimo trecentesimo quinquagesimo [1351, n.s.]
Ind iiij," etc. etc.

2 In May, as we have seen, he was inscribed in the Arte dei Giudici
e Notai. Cf. supra, p. 145, n. 4.

3 Cf. Hortis, Boccaccio Ambasciatore, cit., p. 8, n. 4, and Docs. 2, 3, 4,

162

i»m] TWO EMBASSIES 163

Florence was tired of appealing to the Pope always in
/ain, and had at last looked for another champion against
:he Visconti. Deserted by the Church, at war with the
Visconti, Florence had either to submit or to find a way
3ut for herself, and with her usual astuteness she hoped to
ichieve the latter by calling to her aid the excommunicated
Ludwig. The moment was well chosen. Ludwig was just
-econciled with Charles IV, King of the Romans, the
greatest enemy of his house. He was poor and in need of
noney, little loved in his own country, and not indisposed
:o try any adventure that offered. So Boccaccio set out.
rhe letters given to him December 12, 1 351, were directed
:o Conrad, Duke of Teck, who had already visited Florence
n 1 34 1, and to Ludwig himself.1 We know, however, nothing
personal to Boccaccio with regard to this mission. In fact
;ave that it was so far successful that Ludwig sent Diapoldo
£atzensteiner to Florence to continue the overtures we
mow little about it at all. Katzensteiner's pretensions,
lowever, proved to be such that the Florentines would not
iccept them, and communications were broken off.2 That
vas in March, 1352. On May 1 a new project was on
bot. Florence decided to call the prospective Emperor
Charles IV, the grandson of her old enemy Henry VII,
nto Italy to her assistance.3

That a Guelf republic should turn for assistance to
he head of the Ghibelline cause seems perhaps more
;trange than in fact it was. Guelf and Ghibelline had
)ecome mere names beneath which local jealousies hid
md flourished, caring nothing for the greater but less
eal quarrel between Empire and Papacy. Charles,
lowever, was to fail Florence ; for at the last moment

1 Cf. Hortis, op. cit., p. 9, n. I. Baldelli, op. cit.y pp. 112-13, and
Vitte are wrong in supposing Ludwig to be Ludovico il Romano, as Hortis
hows.

2 Florence broke off communications after consulting Siena and Perugia.
:f. Arch. Stor. Ital., Ser. I, App. VII, p. 389.

3 Cf. Arch. Stor. Ilal., u.s., p. 389.

164 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1351-

he withdrew from the treaty, fearing to leave Germany ;
when he did descend later, things had so far improved
for her that she was anything but glad to see him,
especially when she was forced to remember that it
was she who had called him there. After these two
failures Florence was compelled to make terms with the
Visconti at Sarzana in April, 1353, promising not to inter-
fere in Lombardy or Bologna, while Visconti for his part
undertook not to molest Tuscany.1 But by this treaty the
Visconti gained a recognition of their hold in Bologna
from the only power that wished to dispute it. They
profited too by the peace, extending their dominion in
Northern Italy. In this, though fortune favoured them,
they began to threaten others who had looked on with
composure when they were busy with Tuscany. Among
these were the Venetians, who made an alliance with
Mantua, Verona, Ferrara, and Padua, and were soon trying
to persuade Florence, Siena, and Perugia to join them.5
Nor did they stop there, for in December, 1353, they toe
tried to interest Charles IV in Italian affairs. When it
was seen that Charles was likely to listen to the Venetians
the Visconti too sent ambassadors to him, nor was the
Papacy slow to make friends.

In 1352 Clement VI had died, and in his stead Inno-
cent VI reigned in Avignon. He was determined tc
assert his claims in Italy, and especially in the Romagna.
and to this end despatched Cardinal Albornoz, the redoubt-

1 Cf. Matteo Villani, Lib. IV. In July (see letter quoted supra) wt
know Boccaccio to have been in Ravenna. He says to Petrarch : " Pridu
quidem IIII ydus julii forte Ravennam urbem petebam, visitaturus civitatif
Principem et ut ferebat iter Livii forum intravi. ..." He arrived, then, or
July 12, and it was a friend he met in Forli (Livii) who told him that Petrarch
had entered the service of the Visconti. He reproaches him, as we have
seen. Nelli, whom he here calls Simonides, was also in Ravenna. Ht
upbraids Petrarch, as we have seen, in allegory, asking how Sylvanus (Pet-
rarch) can desert and betray the nymph Amaryllis (Italy) and go over tc
the oppressor Egon (Visconti), the false priest of Pan (the Pope), a monster o
crime. Cf. Corazzini, op. cit.y p. 47.

2 See docs, cited in Arch. Stor. Jtal.t v.s., pp. 392-4.

Itf

1352] TWO EMBASSIES 165

able Spaniard, to bring the unruly barons of that region
to ordc. The whole situation was delicate and compli-
cated. Florence was in a particularly difficult position.
She had called Charles into Italy without the Pope's leave
— she, the head of the Guelf cause. He had not come.
Now when she no longer wanted him he seemed to be
coming in spite of her and with the Pope's goodwill. She
seems to have doubted the reality of that, as well she
might. Moreover, though she and her allies would have
been glad enough to join the Venetians, the situation was
too complicated for hurried action, especially as a treaty
only two years old bound them not to interfere in Lom-
bardy and Bologna so long as they were left alone.

Charles's own position can have been not less difficult.
Now that he seemed really eager to enter Italy, both sides
seemed eager for him to do so. Should he enter Italy as
the " Imperatore de' Preti," and so make sure of a coro-
nation, or descend as the avenger of the imperial claims ?
He hesitated. In these circumstances it seemed to the
Florentines that there was but one thing to do — to inform
themselves of the real intentions of the Pope, and when
these were known, to decide on a course of action.
In these very delicate missions his countrymen again had
recourse to Boccaccio. He set out on April 28, 1354.1

1 Baldelli, Hortis, Landau, and Koerting are all in agreement that this
mission took place in April, 1354, not April, 1353. The instructions of the
Republic, which I quote infra, were published by Canestrini in Arch. St. It. ,
us., p. 393, but under the erroneous date of April 30, 1353. ^n April, 1353,
Charles was not about to set out.

The letter of instruction is as follows : —

" Nota agendorum in Romana Curia cum domino Summo Pontifice, pro
parte suorum et Ecclesie devotorum, Priorum artium et Vexillifero Iustitie
Populi et Comunis Florentie, et ipsius Comunis per providum virum dominum
lohannem Bocchaccii de Certaldo, ambaxiatorum Comunis predicti.

" Primo quidem, idem orator eosdem Priores et Vexilliferum et Comune, ea
qua videntur, prelatione debita et devota, Sanctitati Apostolice humiliter com-
mendabit.

" Secundo, narrabit Sanctitati Sue quod Illustris Romanorum et Boemie
Rex, per suas licteras, et nuncios Comuni Florentino et eius Regiminibus,
advenctum suum ad partes Italicas fiendum in proximo nuntiavit : que
annuntiatio miranda venit auditui predictorum, pro eo quod, nunquid

166 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO lm&

His instructions were to find out whether the Emperor was
coming into Italy with consent of His Holiness, to speak
of the loyalty of Florence to the Holy See, and to protest
her willingness to do whatever the Pope desired. At the
same time he had to obtain at least this, that the Pope
should exert himself to save the honour and independence
of the republic. Again, if the Pope pretended that he

descendat de Summi Pontificis conscientia vel non, in Corauni Florentie non
est clarum. Quod Comune, devotum Sancte Romane Ecclesie intendens,
ut consuevit, hactenus a Sancta Matre Ecclesia, in nichilo deviare, certiorari
cupit die Apostolica conscientia ut in agendis procedat cauctius, et suis
possit, favore apostolico, negotiis providere. Cuius Summi Pontificis si
responsum fuerit, se et Ecclesiam Romanam de eiusdem Imperatori
descensu esse contentos, tunc subiungat supplicando, quod Populum et
Comune Florentie dignetur recommendatos habere tamquam devotos
Ecclesie et Apostolice Sanctitatis, ut in devotione solita possint idem Comune
et populus erga Sanctam Matrem Ecclesiam libere conservari.

" Si vero idem dominus Summus Pontifex eiusdem discensus diceret se con-
scium non esse, et vellet de intentione Comunis Florentie ab eodem oratore
perquirere ; dicat se non habere mandatum, nisi sciscitandi Summi Pontificis
voluntatem.

" Et qualequale precisum et finale responsum ad promissa datum fuerit per
Apostolicam Sanctitatem, idem ambaxiator festinis gressibus revertatur.

" Insuper, exposita eidem Sanctitati devotione qua floruerunt hactenus
nobiles de Malatestis de Arimino . . . Ceterum, dominum Clarum de
Peruzziis, episcopum Feretranum et Sancti Leonis. . . .

" Particulam quoque, que advenctus Romani Regis in Ytaliam agit seperius
mentionem, nulli pandat orator affatus, nisi quatenus iusserit deliberatio
Apostolice Sanctitatis."

The entry in the Libri d' uscita della Camera dei Camerlinghi del Comune
— Quaderno del Marzo-Aprile, 1354, under date April 29, is given by
Crescini as follows :—
,.~ . T, . n ,~ .( honorabilibus popularibus civibus Floren-

Domino Iohanm del Boccaccio tinis ambaxiatoribus electis ad eundum pro
Bernardo Cambi. { dicto Comuni ad dominum summum ponti-

ficem, cum ambaxiata eisdem per dominos priores et vexilliferum Imponenda,
pro eorum et cujusque ipsorum salario quadragintaquinque dierum Initian-
dorum ea die qua iter arripient de civitate Florentie ad eundum pro dicto
Comuni in ambaxiatam predictam, ad rationem : librarum quatuor et solidorum
decern flor. parv. , cum tribus equis pro dicto domino Iohanne ; et solidorum
viginti flor. parv. cum uno equo pro dicto Bernardo, per diem quamlibet, vigore
electionis de eis facte per dictos dominos priores et vexilliferum Iustitie cum
deliberatione et consensu officij Gonfaloneriorum sotietatis populi, et
duodecim bonorum virorum dicti Comunis ; ac etiam vigore provisionis et
stantiamenti facti per dictos dominos priores et vexilliferum Iustitie una cum
off° duodecim bonorum virorum dicti Comunis, publicati et scripti per ser
Puccinum ser Lapi notarium, scribam officij dictorum priorum et vexilliferi et
vigore apodixe transmisse per dictos dominos priores et vexilliferum per
dictum ser Puccinum notarium, in summam inter ambos . . . libro ducentas-
quadraginta septem, solidos decern fl. parv."

1352] TWO EMBASSIES 167

knew nothing of the advent of Charles, but asked the
intentions of Florence in case he should enter Italy,
Boccaccio was instructed to say that he was only sent to
ask the intentions of His Holiness. In any case he was to
return as quickly as possible.

The Pope's answer seems to have been far from clear.
Boccaccio returned, but a few months later Dietifeci di
Michele was sent as ambassador to Avignon with almost
the same instructions and with the same object in
view.

Can it be that Florence really did not understand the
situation as we see it, or was that situation in reality very
dangerous to her liberty ? It is difficult to understand how
she can have failed to see that the Pope had already won.
It was obvious that he had come to some arrangement with
Charles, which proved to be that the Church would crown
him on condition that he only spent the day of his incoro-
nation in Rome and respected the sovereignty of the Pope
in the states of the Church. Moreover, if this were not
enough, as Florence knew, the presence of Albornoz in
Romagna had already drawn the teeth of the Visconti so
far as they were dangerous to Tuscany. However, it seems
to have been in considerable fear and perplexity that she
saw Charles enter Padua early in November, 1 354. Now if
ever, some thought doubtless, the White Guelf ideal was
to be realised. Among these idealists was, alas, Petrarch,
whose hymn, not long written perhaps, Italia Mia, surely
dreamed of quite another king than a German prince.
Boccaccio was, as I think, better advised. In his seventh
Eclogue he mercilessly ridicules Charles, who in fact,
though not maybe in seeming, was the instrument of the
Pope. He entered Italy by the Pope's leave. Padua
received him with honour, but Cane della Scala of Verona
clanged to his gates, and the Visconti with bared teeth
waited to see what he would do. He went to Mantua
and Gonzaga received him well. There he expected the

i68

GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

[J35i-

ambassador of Tuscany, but as the Pope's friend th(
Ghibellines knew him not, they smiled bitterly at the
" Priests' Emperor," only Pisa pathetically stretching oul
her hands to Caesar's ghost, while, as claimant of the
imperial title the Guelf republics would have none of him.
Florence need have had no fear, the Church had out-
manoeuvred her enemies as in old time.

Charles, however, was not contemptible. Simple Germai
as he was, he soon grasped the situation. He made friends
in some sort with Visconti, and in this doubtless Petrarch,
who had urged him on, was able to assist him. From
them he received the iron crown, though not indeed at
Monza, but in Milan, in the church of S. Ambrogio, and at
their hands. That must have been a remarkable and
unhappy time for the King of the Romans, in spite oi
Petrarch's talk and friendship. Presently he set out for Pis<
and so to Rome, where he received the imperial crown oi
April 4, 1355, and, returning to Pisa, as though in iron]
of Petrarch's enthusiastic politics, crowned the grammariai
Zanobi da Strada poet laureate. Yet this was surely but
a German joke. As for Florence, still trembling it seems
she took as firm a stand as she could, and asked only the
protection and friendship of the Emperor, offering n(
homage or subordination. The Sienese, on the other hand,
in spite of their treaty with Florence, offered him their lord-
ship. Others followed their example, and Pisa was filled
with Ghibellines claiming the destruction of Florence, the
head and front of the Guelf faction. Charles, however,
refused to adventure. He demanded from Florence onh
money, as a fine, by paying which she was to be restored
to his favour, and that her magistrates should be called
Vicars of the Empire. She forfeited nothing of her liberty
and none of her privileges as a free republic. Yet at
first she refused to acquiesce. It was only after an infinite
number of explanations that she was brought to consent.
Indeed, we read that the " very notary who read out the

i35*] TWO EMBASSIES 169

deed broke down, and the Senate was so affected that it
dissolved. On the next day the Act was rejected seven
times before it was passed. The bells were the only
merry folk in Florence, so jealous were her citizens of the
liberty of their state."

CHAPTER XII
I353-I356

BOCCACCIO'S ATTITUDE TO WOMAN —
THE CORBACCIO

f~~ ~^HOSE embassies, for the most part so un-
successful one may think, which from time to
time between 1350 and 1354 Boccaccio had
m undertaken at the request of the Florentine

Republic, heavy though his responsibility must have been
in the conduct of them, had by no means filled all his
time or seriously prevented the work, far more important
as it proved to be, which he had chosen as the business of
his life. Between 1348 and 1353, as we shall see, he had
written the Decameron ; in 1354-5 ne seems to have pro-
duced the Corbaccio, and not much later the Vita di Dante ;
while in the complete retirement from political life, from
the office of ambassador at any rate, which followed the
embassy of 1354 and lasted for eleven years, till indeed
in 1365 he went again to Avignon on business of the Re-
public, he devoted himself almost entirely to study and to
the writing of those Latin works of learning which his
contemporaries appreciated so highly and which we have
perhaps been ready too easily to forget.

It is generally allowed1 that Boccaccio began the

1 See Manni, Istoria del Decamerone (Firenze, 1742), p. 144; Antona
Traversi in Landau, Gio. Boccaccio sua vita ed opere (Napoli, 1882),
p. 523 ; Koerting, Boccaccio 's Leben und Werke (Leipzig, 1880), pp. 244 and
673-4 ; and cf. Salviati, Avvertimcnti della Lingua sopra il Decamerone
(Venezia, 15S4), Lib. II, cap. 12.

170

1353-6] BOCCACCIO AND WOMAN 171

Decameron in 1348, but that it did not see the light in its
completeness till 1353, and this would seem reasonable,
for it is surely impossible that such a work can have been
written in much less than four years. That a considerable
time did in fact divide the beginning from the completion
of the book Boccaccio himself tells us in the conclusion,
at the end of the work of the Tenth Day, where he says :
" Though now I approach the end of my labours, it is
long since I began to write, yet I am not oblivious that it
was to none but to ladies of leisure that I offered my
work. . . ."

That the Decameron was not begun before 1 348 would
seem to be certain, for even if we take away the Prologue,
the form itself is built on the dreadful catastrophe of the
Black Death.1 If the book was begun between that year
and 135 1, it cannot, however, have been suggested, as some
have thought, by Queen Giovanna of Naples, for she was
then in Avignon. In 1348 Boccaccio was thirty-five years
old, and whether at that time he was in Naples or in Fori!
with Ordelaffo is, as we have seen, doubtful, though that he
was in Naples would appear more likely ; but wherever he
was he had ample opportunity of witnessing the appalling
ravages of the pestilence which he so admirably describes,
and which is the contrast of and the excuse for his book, for
save in Lombardy and Rome the pestilence was universal
throughout Italy. In 1353, however, we know him to have
been resident in Florence, and if we accept the tradition,
which there is no reason at all to doubt, it was in that year
that the complete Decameron first saw the light.2 It was
known, however, in part, long before that, and would seem
indeed to have been published — if one may so express

1 I deal with the form of the Decameron later. See infra, p. 292.

2 The original MS. has disappeared. The oldest we now possess seems to
have been written in 1368 by Francesco Mannelli. The later Hamilton MS.,
now in Berlin, is, however, the better of the two. Cf. H. Hauvette, Delia
parentela esistenta fra il MS. Berlinese del Dec. e il codice Mannelli in Giorn.
St. d. Lett. It. (1895), XXXI, p. 162 et sea.

172 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO Usss-

n^-in parts ; not perhaps ten stories at a time — a day at
a time — as Foscolo1 has conjectured, but certainly in
parts, most likely of various quantity and at different
intervals. This would seem to be obvious from the intro-
duction to the Fourth Day, where Boccaccio speaks of the
envy and criticism that " these little stories " had excited,
and proceeds to answer his detractors. It is obvious that
he could not at the beginning of the Fourth Day have
answered criticisms of his work if some of it had not
already seen the light and been widely read.
mm It must have been then when he was about forty years
old that he finished the Decameron, that extraordinary
impersonal work in which in the strongest contrast with
his other books he has almost completely hidden himself
from us. He might seem at last in those gay, licentious,
and profoundly secular pages, often so delightfully satirical
and always so full of common sense, so sane as we might
say, to have lost himself in a joyous contemplation and
understanding of the world in which he lived, to have
^—forgotten himself in a love of it.

I speak fully of the Decameron elsewhere, and have
indeed only mentioned it here for two reasons — to fix its
date in the story of his life, and to contrast it and its mood
with the work which immediately followed it, the Corbaccio
and the Vita di Dante.

We cannot, I think, remind ourselves too often in our at-
tempts— and after all they can never be more than attempts
— to understand the development of Boccaccio's mind, of
his soul even, that he had but one really profound pas-
sion in his life, his love for Fiammetta. And as that had
been one of those strong and persistent sensual passions
which are among the strangest and bitterest things in the
world,2 his passing love affairs — and doubtless they were

1 Foscolo, Discorso Storico sid testo del Decamerone . . . premesso alV
edizione delle Cento Novelle fatta in Londra (Lugano, 1828), p. 9.

2 Cf. Decameron, Proem, where he speaks of his love for Fiammetta and
the "discomfort," and "suffering" it brought him, "not indeed by reason

1356] BOCCACCIO AND WOMAN 173

not few — with other women had seemed scarcely worth
recounting.1 That he never forgot Fiammetta, that he
never freed himself from her remembrance, are among the
few things concerning his spiritual life which we may
assert with a real confidence. It is true that in the Proem
to the Decameron he would have it otherwise, but who
will believe him ? There he says — let us note as we read
that even here he cannot but return to it — that : " It is
human to have compassion on the afflicted ; and as it
shows very well in all, so it is especially demanded of
those who have had need of comfort and have found it in
others : among whom, if any had ever need thereof or
found it precious or delectable, I may be numbered ;
seeing that from my early youth even to the present?
I was beyond measure aflame with a most aspiring
and noble love, more perhaps than were I to enlarge
upon it would seem to accord with my lowly con-
dition. Whereby, among people of discernment to
whose knowledge it had come, I had much praise and
high esteem, but nevertheless extreme discomfort and
suffering, not indeed by reason of cruelty on the part of
the beloved lady, but through superabundant ardour
engendered in the soul by ill-bridled desire ; the which,
as it allowed me no reasonable period of quiescence,
frequently occasioned me an inordinate distress. In which
distress so much relief was afforded me by the delectable
discourse of a friend and his commendable consolations
that I entertain a very solid conviction that I owe it to him
that I am not dead. But as it pleased Him who, being
infinite, has assigned by immutable law an end to all
things mundane, my love, beyond all other fervent, and

of the cruelty of the beloved lady, but through the superabundant ardour
engendered in the soul by ill-bridled desire ; the which, as it allowed me no
reasonable period of quiescence, frequently occasioned me inordinate distress."

1 We know that Boccaccio had three children, two sons and a daughter.
We do not know by whom.

* So that when he wrote the Proem (? 1353) he still loved her.

[1353-
nina-

174 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

neither to be broken nor bent by any force of determina-
tion, or counsel of prudence, or fear of manifest shame or
ensuing danger, did nevertheless in course of time abate
of its own accord, in such wise that it has now left naught
of itself in my mind but that pleasure which it is wont
to afford to him who does not adventure too far out in
navigating its deep seas ; so that, whereas it was used t(
be grievous, now, all discomfort being done away, I fine
that which remains to be delightful . . . now I may call
myself free."

His love is not dead, but is no longer the sensual agony,
the spiritual anguish it had once been, but it " remains t(
be delightful." That it remained, though perhaps not
always "to be delightful," that it remained, is certain.
For though he " may now call myself free," that Proei
tells us that after all we owe the Decameron itself indirectly
to Fiammetta. And who reading those tales can believe
in his vaunted emancipation, if by that is meant his
forgetfulness of her? She lives everywhere in those
wonderful pages. Is she not one of the seven ladies of
the Decameron ? That is true, it will be said, but she has
no personality there, she is but one of ten protagonists
who are without life and individuality. Let it be granted.
But whereas the others are in fact but lay figures, she,
Fiammetta, though she remains just an idol if you will,
is to be worshipped, is to be decked out with the finest
words, to be honoured and glorified. Her name scarcely
occurs but he praises her ; he is always describing
her ; while for the others he seldom spares a word. Who
can tell us what Pampinea, Filomena, Emilia, Neifile, or
Elisa were like? But for Fiammetta — he tells us every-
thing ; and when, as in the Proem we have just discussed
or in the Conclusion to the Fourth Day, he speaks for
himself, it is her he praises, it is of her he writes. She
is there crowned as queen. It is Filostrato who crowns her:
"taking the laurel wreath from his own head, and while

MASETTO AND THE NUNS. (DEC. Ill, i)
In 1538 this woodcut appears in Tansillds " Stanze "
(By the courtesy of Messrs. J. & J. Leighton.)

MASETTO AND THE NUNS. (DEC. Ill, i)

A woodcut from " Le Cento Novelle" in ottava rirna. (Venice, 1554- >

(By the courtesy of Messrs. J. &* J. Leighton.)

1356] BOCCACCIO AND WOMAN 175

the ladies watched to see to whom he would give it, set it
; graciously upon the blonde head of Fiammetta, saying :
: Herewith I crown thee, as deeming that thou, better than
any other, will know how to make to-morrow console our
fair companions for the rude trials of to-day.' Fiammetta,
whose wavy tresses fell in a flood of gold over her
white and delicate shoulders, whose softly rounded face
was all radiant with the very tints of the white lily
blended with the red of the rose, who carried two eyes in
her head that matched those of the peregrine falcon,
while her tiny sweet mouth showed a pair of lips that
shone as rubies. . . ."

And it is the same with the Conclusion of the book,
which in fact closes with her name, and with the question
Boccaccio must have asked her living and dead his whole
life long : u Madonna, who is he that you love ? "

That he never forgot her, then, is certain ; but Fiam-
metta was dead, and for Boccaccio more than for any
Dther man of letters perhaps, love with its extraordinary
bracing of the intellect as well as of the body was in some
sort a necessity. Never, as we may think, handsome, in
1353, at forty years of age, he was already past his best,
fat and heavy and grey-haired. The death of Fiammetta,
his love affair with her, had left him with a curious fear of
marriage, ill-disguised and very characteristic. If he had
ever believed in the perfection of woman in the way of
Dante and Petrarch and the prophets of romantic love —
and without thereby damning him it is permissible to
doubt this — he had long ceased to hold any such creed or
to deceive himself about them. Woman in the abstract
was for him the prize of life ; he desired her not as a •
friend, but as the most exquisite instrument of pleasure, -
beyond the music of flutes or the advent of spring. In
the Decameron, though we are not justified in interpreting
all the sentiments and opinions there expressed as neces-
sarily his own, the evidence is too strong to be put alto-

176 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1353

gether aside. He loves women and would pleasure them
but he is a sceptic in regard to them ; he treats then
always with an easy, tolerant, and familiar condescension
sometimes petulant, often ironical, always exquisite in its
pathos and humanity ; but beneath all this — let us confess
it at once — there is a certain brutality that is perhaps the
complement to Petrarch's sentiment. " The Muses are
ladies," he says,1 speaking in his own person — he had, as
we have seen, been accused of being too fond of them —
" and albeit ladies are not the peers of the Muses, yet they
have their outward semblance, for which cause, if for no
other, it is reasonable that I should be fond of them.
Besides which ladies have been to me the occasion of
composing some thousand verses, but of never a verse that
I made were the Muses the occasion."

He loves women then, but he is not deluded by them —
or rather, as we should say, because he loves them he does
not therefore respect them also. He considers them as
fair or unfair, or as he himself has it,2 " fair and fit for
amorous dalliance " or " spotted lizards." He does not
believe in them or their virtue — their sexual virtue that is
— nor does he value it very highly.3 It is a thing for
priests and nuns, and even there rare enough. But in the
world !

In one place in the Decameron^ he speaks of the " insen-
sate folly of those who delude themselves . . . with the
vain imagination -that, while they go about the world,
taking their pleasure now of this, now of the other woman,
their wives, left at home, suffer not their hearts to stray
from their girdles, as if we who are born of them and live
among them could be ignorant of the bent of their desires."
Moreover, he considers that " a woman who indulges her-
self in the intimate use with a man commits but a sin of

1 Conclusion to Day IV.

2 Day II, Nov. 10.

3 Closing words of Day II, Nov. 7.

4 Day II, Nov. 10.

1356] BOCCACCIO AND WOMAN 177

nature ; but if she rob him or slay him or drive him into
exile, her sin proceeds from depravity of spirit." Thus, as
the story shows, to deny him the satisfaction of his desire
would be a greater sin than to accord it to him.

Again, in another tale,1 we see his insistence upon what
he considers — and not certainly without reason — as the
reality of things, to deny which would be not merely
useless, but even ridiculous. Certain "very great mer-
chants of Italy, met in Paris," are " discussing their wives at
home. . . ." 2 "I cannot answer for my wife," says one,
f but I own that whenever a girl that is to my mind comes
in my way, I give the go-by to the love I bear my wife
and take my pleasure of the new-comer to the best of my
power." " And so do I," said another, " because I know
that whether I suspect her or no my wife tries her fortune,
and so it is ' do as you are done by.' " All agree save a
Genoese, who stakes everything on his wife's virtue. He
proves right, his wife is virtuous ; but the whole company
is incredulous, and when one of them tells him he is talk-
ing nonsense, and that the general opinion of women's
virtue " is only what common sense dictates," he carries the
whole company with him. He admits that " doubtless few
[women] would be found to indulge in casual amours if
every time they did so a horn grew out on the brow to
attest the fact ; but not only does no horn make its appear-
ance, but not so much as a trace or vestige of a horn, so
only they be prudent ; and the shame and dishonour con-
sist only in the discovery ; wherefore if they can do it
secretly they do it, or are fools to refrain. Hold it for
certain that she alone is chaste who either had never
a suit made to her, or suing herself was repulsed. And
albeit I know that for reasons true and founded in nature
this must needs be, yet I should not speak so positively

1 Day II, Nov. 9.

2 That mere fact should enlighten us, for we may well believe such a sub-
ject of "jovial discourse" impossible to-day.

178 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1353-

thereof as I do had I not many a time with many a woman
verified it by experience."

It is not that in the Decameron virtue is not often re-
warded in the orthodox way, but that such cases are not
to the point ; they are as unreal, as merely poetical or
fictional as they are to-day. But where real life is dealt
with — and in no other book of the fourteenth century is
there so much reality — the evidence is what we have
seen. It was not that woman as we see her there is
basely vicious ; but that she is altogether without ideality,
light-hearted and complacent, easily yielding to caprice,
to the allure of pleasure, to the first solicitation that
comes to her in a propitious hour, and this rather be-
cause of a certain gaminerie, a lightness, an incorrigible
naughtiness, than because of a real depravity. Like all
Italians — the great exceptions only prove the rule — she
is without a fundamental moral sense. She sins lightly,
easily, without regret, dazzled by life, by the pleasure
of life.

Such, then, was the attitude of Boccaccio towards woman

the time when he was writing the Decameron, that is to
say, from his thirty-fifth to his fortieth year. And we
may well ask whether he had always thought as he did
then, and if not, what had been the cause of his disillusion
and what was to be the result of it ?

It is difficult to answer the first of these questions with
any certainty. And yet it might seem incredible that in
his youth he had already emancipated himself from an
illusion — if illusion it be — that seems proper to it in all
ages, and that was so universal in the Middle Age as
to inform the greater part of its secular literature — the
illusion that woman was something to be worshipped,
something almost sacred, to be approached in great
humility, with gentleness and reverence.

In reading the early romances of Boccaccio, it must be
confessed that while his attitude towards woman is not so

1356] BOCCACCIO AND WOMAN 179

assured, nor so masterful in its realism and humour as
in the Decameron, it is nevertheless much the same in
character. In the Filocolo, as in the Ameto, he thinks of
her always as a prize, as something to be hunted or cajoled,
yes, like a barbarian ; nor are his early works less sensual
than the Decameron. The physical reality is for him — and
not only in regard to woman — so much more than the
spiritual.

Yet in spite of the general character of his work, we
observe from time to time, and more especially in the
Rime, a certain idealism, still eagerly physical, if you will,
but none the less ideal on that account, which centres in
Fiammetta and his thoughts concerning her.

We have already traced that story from its beginning to
its end, we shall but return to it here to repeat that what-
ever we may come to think of it, this at least is assured
and certain : that it was a genuine and sincere passion in
which Boccaccio's whole being was involved — inextricably
involved — soul as well as body. To a nature such as
Boccaccio's, so lively and full of energy, that awakening, so
far as his physical nature was concerned, came not without
preparation — he had had other loves before he saw Fiam-
metta— but spiritually it seems to have been in the nature
of an unexpected revelation. It made him a poet, as we
have seen, and one cannot read the Rime without being
convinced that something more was involved in his love
for his lady than the body.

It would seem, then, that we have here under our hands
a history, logical and inevitable, developed by the charac-
ter of the man in the circumstances which befell him.
Like all the men of his day, he was in love with love.
Without the profound spiritual energy of Dante, but with
a physical vitality greater far than Petrarch's, Boccaccio
was inevitably in youth at the mercy of the lust of
the eye, following woman because she was beautiful and
because he desired her with all the fresh energy of his

180 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1353-

nature. He met Fiammetta and loved her. And then,
though his desire abated no jot, there was added to it a
certain idealism in which to some extent, sometimes
greater, sometimes less, the spirit was involved to his joy
and his sorrow. So, when Fiammetta forsook him, she
wounded him not only in his pride, but in his soul, a wound
that might never altogether be healed. That at least
might seem certain, for had he loved her only as he had
loved the others, to forget her would have been easy ; but
he could not forget.

Well, this wound, as we might say, grew angry and
festered, poisoning his whole being with its bitterness.
Thus in the years which follow his betrayal by Fiammetta
we see him regarding woman now with a furious bitterness
and anger, as in the subtle cruelty of the Fiammetta,
now merely sensually as the instrument and means of the
pleasure of man — a flower to be plucked in the garden of
life, worn a little and thrown away e'er one grow weary
of it.

But this phase, mixed of too bitter and too sweet, un-
healthy too and without the capacity of laughter, pre-
sently passed away before the essential virility and energy
of his nature. In the fullness of his youth from thirty-
three to forty, busy with important work, engaged in
responsible missions, the friend of great men of action as
well as of poets and scholars, almost all that bitterness
and anger passes away from him, and instead he assumes
the pose we see in the Decameron, to which all his know-
ledge of the world, his tolerance of life, his sense of
humour, and in some sort his sanity, must have urged
him. He has lost every illusion with regard to woman
save that she is able to give him pleasure. He may " call
himself free" from her, he says, and he shows her to us,
well, as the realist sees her, as she appears, that is, to the
bodily eye, and as we find her in the Decameron.

Let it be granted if you will that such an attitude as

1356] THE CORBACCIO 181

that of the poets of romantic love was ridiculous, and that
like all illusion and untruth it entailed in some sort a
denial of life and brought its own penalty. But was
Boccaccio's attitude really, fundamentally any nearer the
truth ? And if not, must not it too be paid for ? Assuredly.
Life will not be denied. If woman be nothing but the
flesh, however we may glorify her, she is but dust, and
our mouth, eloquent with her praises, full of ashes. So
it was with Boccaccio. All his early works, including the
Decameron, had been written to please' women. In the
Corbaccio we see the reaction.

It seems that during the time he was writing the
Deca?neron, towards his forty-first year, he found himself
taken by a very beautiful woman, a widow, who pretended
to encourage him, perhaps because of his fame, provoked
his advances, allured him to write to her, and then laugh-
ing at this middle-aged and obese lover, gave his letters to
her young lover, who scattered them about Florence.

Boccaccio had already been hurt, as we have seen, by
the criticisms some had offered on his work.1 This de-
ception by the widow exasperated him, his love for
women turned to loathing, and he now composed a sort
of invective against them, which was called the Corbaccio,
though whether he so named it himself remains unknown.2

1 Cf. Prologue to the Fourth Day : " Know then, my discreet ladies, that
some there are who reading these little stories have alleged that I am too
fond of you, and that 'tis not a seemly thing that I should take so much
pleasure in ministering to your gratification and solace ; and some have found
fault with me for praising you as I do.;'

1 See the interesting study of the Corbaccio by Hauvette in Bulletin
Italien (Bordeaux, 1901), Vol. I, No. I. Boccaccio says in the Corbaccio:
11 E primieramente la tua eta, per la quale, se le tempie gia bianche e la canuta
barba non m' ingannano, tu dovresti avere li costumi del mondo, fuor delle
fasce gia sono degli anni quaranta e gia venticinque, cominciatili a conos-
cere" (Ed. Moutier. 183). Hauvette interprets this : " Grown out of swad-
dling clothes as you are these forty years, ^ou have known the world for
twenty-five. . . ." The majority of critics agree that the Corbaccio was
written ca. 1355, in which year Boccaccio was forty-two years old. Twenty-
five years before brings us to 1330, or almost to the dates on which he
(1) deserted trade, and (2) first saw Fiammetta. But in another place in the
same book he suggests that the book was written when the new year was

182 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1353-

The story is as follows : A lover finds himself lost in
the forest of love, and is delivered by a spirit. The lover
is Boccaccio, the spirit is the husband of the widow who
has returned from hell, where his avarice and complaisance
have brought him. In setting Boccaccio in the right way,
the spirit of the husband reveals to him all the imperfec-
tions, artifices and defects, the hidden vices and weak-
nesses of his wife with the same brutality and grossness
that Ovid had employed in his Amoris Remedia. " Had
you seen her first thing in the morning with her night-cap
on, squatting before the fire, coughing and spitting. . . .
Ah, if I could tell you how many different ways she had
of dealing with that golden hair of hers, you would be
amazed. Why, she spent all her time treating it with
herbs and washing it with the blood of all sorts of animals.
The house was full of distillations, little furnaces, oil cups,
retorts, and such litter. There wasn't an apothecary in
Florence or a gardener in the environs who wasn't ordered
to send her fluid silver or wild weeds. . . ."

Such was Boccaccio's revenge. But he was not content
with this fierce attack on the foolish woman who had
deceived him ; he involved the whole sex in his contempt
and ridicule. " Women," he says, " have no other occupa-
tion but in making themselves appear beautiful and in

about to begin : * ' 1' anno . . . e tosto per entrar nuovo," so that we may refer
this unfortunate contretemps, and the writing of the Corbaccio in consequence,
to December, 1355, i.e. February, 1356, new style, which brings us almost
exactly to March, 1331, the day of the meeting with Fiammetta.

As to the title of this book we know nothing. If it signifies the Evil Raven
and is derived from corbo, corvo, we cannot decide whether it refers to the
widow, or her husband, or to Boccaccio himself. On the other hand, it may
be derived from corba (Latin, corbis), a basket or trap, and this would be
explicable. All we know is that in by far the greater number of MSS.,
and these the oldest, the work bears the title Corbaccio or Corbaccino ; but
whether this is owing to Boccaccio or not we cannot decide. The word does
not occur in the text. The copyists were certainly unaware of its significance,
and have always given it a sub-title, e.g. Corbaccio: libro del rimedio dello
amore, . . . detto il Corbaccio, or Corbaccius sive contra sceleratam viduam et
alias feminas invectiva, or Corbaccio nimico delle feminine. The false title
Laberinto d' amore does not occur till the sixteenth century. Cf. Hauvette,
op. cit., p. 3, n. 1.

1356] THE CORBACCIO 183

winning admiration ; ... all are inconstant and light,
willing and unwilling in the same heart's beat, unless
what they wish happens to minister to their incorrigible
vices. They only come into their husband's house to
upset everything, to spend his money, to quarrel day and
night with the servants or with his brothers and relations
and children. They make out that they are timid and
fearful, so that if they are in a lofty place they complain
of vertigo, if in a boat their delicate stomachs are upset,
if we must journey by night they fear to meet ghosts,
if the wind rattles the window or they hear a pebble fall
they tremble with fright ; while, as you know, if one tries
to do anything, to go anywhere without warning them,
they are utterly contrary. But God only knows how bold
and how ready they are in things to their taste. There is
no place so difficult, precipices among the mountains, the
highest palace walls, or the darkest night, that will stop
them. Their sole thought, their only object, there one
ambition is to rob, to rule, and to deceive their husbands,
and for this end they will stoop to anything."1

The Corbaccio, however, was not the only work in which
his pessimism and hatred of woman showed itself. It is
visible also in the Vita di Dante, which was written about
this time or a little later than the Corbaccio} perhaps in

1 The sources of this amazing and amusing book are not far to seek. In the
Divine Comedy it had been love which had let Dante out of the selva oscura ;
here the selva oscura is love and it is reason or experience who delivers
Boccaccio. Another source, as Pinelli, Corbaccio in Propugnatore, XVI
(Bologna, 1883), pp. 169-92, has shown, is found in Giovenale. " L' imita-
zione," says Pinelli, "del Boccaccio non e pedestre, ma artifiziosa come
quella che cogliendo sempre il solo punto capitale del pensiero, e trascurando
la particolarita nieno interessanti, aggiunge di suo tante inestimabili bellezze
da rendere V opera originate. "

2 We shall consider the Vita di Dante later when we discuss Boccaccio's
whole relation to Dante. It is necessary perhaps to decide here so far as we
can the date at which it was written. Baldelli {op. cit., pp. 378-9) tells us
that Buonmattei was of opinion that Boccaccio wrote the Vita di Dante
while he was still young. But Baldelli assures us that it must have been written
after the Ameto and before the Decameron, as its style is more pure and
formed than the one and less so than the other. The Decameron first
saw the light in 1353 ; and so Baldelli tells us the Vita was written in 1351.

1 84 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO C«353-

1 3 56-7. All goes well till we come to Dante's marriage,
when there follows a magnificent piece of invective which,
while it expresses admirably Boccaccio's mood and helps us
to date the book, has little or nothing to do with Dante.
Indeed, we seem to learn there, reading a little between
the lines, more of Boccaccio himself than of the husband
of Gemma Donati.

On such a question no foreigner has a right to an opinion. But if I may
break my own rule, I shall say that I find myself in agreement with (among
others) Antona Traversi, in his translation of Landau's life of Boccaccio
{Giovanni Boccaccio sua vita, etc. (Naples, 1882), p. 786, n. 3), when he says
that no really satisfactory conclusion can be arrived at on the evidence of a
prose style alone ; for nothing is more fluid or more subject to mood, and
nothing, we might add, is more difficult to judge. Foscolo, with whom
Carducci finds himself in agreement, tells us that " Fra quante opere abbiamo
del Boccaccio la piu luminosa di stile e di pensieri a me pare la Vita di
Dante. Cf. Foscolo, Discorso storico sul testo del Decameron (Lugano, 1828),
p. 94. But we need not admit so much to refute Baldelli. If the Decameron
was published in 1353, it was certainly begun some years, four or five at least,
before that. It is generally supposed, and with much reason, to have been
begun in 1348-9. But Baldelli gives the Vita to 1351. It follows then that
the work less pure in style than the Decameron was written two years after
the Decameron was begun. If we accept Baldelli's evidence we must conclude
that the Vita was written before 1348.

It seems extremely unlikely, however, that the Vita was written before
1353, f°r its whole tone, serious, even religious, and its extraordinary
antipathy to marriage and contempt for women are entirely out of keeping with
the eager love and sensuality of the Ameto and the gaiety of the Decameron.
It has, on the other hand, much in common with the Corbaccio, which belongs
to the years 1355 or 1356. With this conclusion Carducci — and no finer
critic ever lived — is in agreement. He agrees with Foscolo, op. cit., p. 14,
that the Corbaccio and the Vita di Dante were composed about the same time.
To establish the very year in which Boccaccio wrote the Vita seems to me
impossible. But I think it may be possible to prove that it was begun after
the Corbaccio, though not long after, let us say in 1356-7, and finished some
years later ; according to Maori Leone {La Vita di Dante, Firenze, 18S8),
in 1363-4. We see in the Vita almost the same attitude towards women
that we have already found in the Corbaccio, but less fiercely bitter, more
reasoned, and less personal. But the immediate cause of Boccaccio's change
from an eager and self-flattering love of women to a hatred for and contempt
of them was his deception by the widow of the Corbaccio. We may psycho-
logically have been certain of this hatred from the first, for it is in fact a
logical development from his attitude to woman from his youth on ; but
the immediate and provocative cause of the change was the perfidy of the
widow. It therefore seems to me that we must necessarily see in the Vita a
later work than the Corbaccio, though not so much later. Doubtless he had
been gathering facts all his life, and only in 1356-7 began to put them in
order. That it was so seems probable from the fact that the invective against
marriage is altogether an interpolation and has almost nothing to do with
Dante ; it is in fact largely a quotation from a quotation of Jerome's.

MONNA TESSA EXORCISING THE DEVIL. (DEC. VII, I)
A woodcut from the ' ' Decameron." ( Venice, 1525.)

MONNA TESSA EXORCISING THE DEVIL. (DEC. VII, I,

Appeared in Sansovinds " Le Cento Novelle" (Venice, I57I-)
(By the courtesy of Messrs. J. & J. Leighton.)

'356] BOCCACCIO AND MARRIAGE 185

" Oh, ye blind souls," he writes there,1 " oh ye clouded
intellects, oh, ye vain purposes of so many mortals, how
counter to your intentions in full many a thing are the
results that follow ; — and for the most part not without
reason ! What man would take another who felt excessive
heat in the sweet air of Italy to the burning sands of
Lybia to cool himself, or from the Isle of Cyprus to the
eternal shades of the Rhodopaean mountains to find
warmth ? What physician would set about expelling acute
fever by means of fire, or a chill in the marrow of the bones
with ice or with snow ? Of a surety not one ; unless it be
he who shall think to mitigate the tribulations of love by
giving one a bride. They who look to accomplish this
thing know not the nature of love, nor how it maketh
every other passion feed its own. In vain are succours or
counsels brought up against its might, if it have taken firm
root in the heart of him who long hath loved. Even as in
the beginning every feeblest resistance is of avail, so when
it hath gathered head, even the stoutest are wont many
times to turn to hurt. But returning to our matter, and
conceding for the moment that there may (so far as that
goes) be things which have the power to make men forget
the pains of love, what hath he done who to draw out of
one grievous thought hath plunged me into a thousand
greater and more grievous? Verily naught else save by
addition of that ill which he hath wrought me, to bring me
into a longing for return into that from which he hath
drawn me. And this we see come to pass to the most of
those who in their blindness marry that they may escape
from sorrows, or are induced to marry by others who would
draw them hence ; nor do they perceive that they have
issued out of one tangle into a thousand, until the event
brings experience, but without power to turn back how-
soever they repent. His relatives and friends gave Dante

1 I use the translation of Mr. P. H. Wicksteed, The Early Lives of Dante
(Chatto and Windus, 1907).

1 86 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1353-

a wife that his tears for Beatrice might have an end ; bul
I know not whether for this (though the tears passed away,
or rather perhaps had already passed) the amorous flame
departed ; yet I do not think it. But even granted that il
were quenched, many fresh burdens, yet more grievous,
might take its place. He had been wont, keeping vigil at
his sacred studies, to discourse whensoever he would with
emperors, with kings, with all other most exalted princes,
to dispute with philosophers, to delight himself with most
pleasing poets and giving heed to the anguish of others to
mitigate his own.1 Now he may be with these only so
much as his new lady chooses ; and what seasons it is her
will shall be withdrawn from so illustrious companionship,
he must bestow on female chatter, which, if he will not
increase his woes, he must not only endure but must extol.
He who was wont, when weary of the vulgar herd, to with-
draw into some solitary place, and there consider in his
speculations what spirit moveth the heaven, whence cometh
life to the animals that are on earth, what are the causes
of things ; or to rehearse some rare invention, compose
some poem which shall make him though dead yet live
by fame amongst the folk that are to come ; must now
not only leave these sweet contemplations as often as the
whim seizes his new lady, but must submit to company
that ill sorts with such like things. He, who was wont to
laugh, to weep, to sing, to sigh, at his will, as sweet or
bitter emotions pierced him, now dares it not ; for he
must needs render an account to his lady, not only of
greater affairs, but of every little sigh, explaining what
started it, whence it came, and whither it tended ; for she
takes gladness as evidence of love for another, and sadness
as hatred of herself.

" Oh weariness beyond conception of having to live and
hold intercourse, and finally grow old and die with so sus-
picious an animal ! I choose not to say aught of the new

1 Cf. Machiavelli, Lettcre, Lettera di Dec. 10.

■356] BOCCACCIO AND MARRIAGE 187

ind most grievous cares which they who are not used to
them must bear, and especially in our city ; I mean how to
provide for clothes, ornaments, and rooms crammed with
superfluities that women make themselves believe are a
support to an elegant existence ; how to provide for man
and maid servants, nurses and chambermaids ... I
speak not of these . . . but rather come to certain things
from which there is no escape.

"Who doubts that judgment will be passed by the
general whether his wife be fair or no ? And if she
be reputed fair, who doubts but she will straightway
have a crowd of lovers who will most pertinaciously
besiege her unstable mind, one with his good works
and one with his noble birth and one with marvellous
flattery and one with gifts and one with pleasant ways ?
And that which many desire shall scarce be defended
against every one; and women's chastity need only once
be overtaken to make them infamous and their husbands
miserable in perpetuity. But if, by misfortune of him
who brings her home, she be foul to look upon — well,
it is plain to see that even of the fairest women men
often and quickly grow weary, and what are we then
to think of the others, save that not only they themselves,
but every place which they are like to be found of
them who must have them for ever with them, will be
detested ? And hence springs up their wrath ; nor is there
any wild beast more cruel than an angry woman — no, nor
so much. Nor may any man live in safety of his life who
hath committed him to any woman who thinketh she hath
good cause to be in wrath against him. And they all
think it.

" What shall I say of their ways ? Would I show how
greatly they all run counter to the peace and repose of
men, I must draw out my discourse to an all too long
harangue ; and therefore let me be content to speak of
one common to almost all. They imagine that any sorriest

188 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1353-6

menial can keep his place in the house by behaving well,
but will be cast out for the contrary. Wherefore they hold
that if they themselves behave well theirs is no better than a
servile lot; for they only feel that they are ladies when they
do ill, but come not to the evil end that servants would.

"Why should I go on pointing out that which all the
world knows? I judge it better to hold my tongue, than
by my speech to give offence to lovely woman. Who
doth not know that trial is first made by him who should
buy ere he take to himself any other thing save only his
wife — lest she should displease him or ever he have her
home ? Whoso taketh her must needs have her not such
as he would choose, but such as fortune yieldeth her to
him. And if these things above be true (as he knoweth
who hath tried) we may think what woes those chambers
hide, which from outside to whoso hath not eyes whose
keenness can pierce through walls, are reputed places of
delight.

" Assuredly I do not affirm that these things chanced to
Dante ; for I do not know it : though true it is that (whether
such like things or others were the cause) when once he
had parted from her (who had been given him as a con-
solation in his sufferings !) never would he go where she
was, nor suffered he her to come where he was, albeit he
was the father of several children by her. But let not any
suppose that from the things said above I would conclude
that men ought not to take to themselves wives. Con-
trariwise, I much commend it ; but not for every one. Let
philosophers leave marrying to wealthy fools, to noblemen
and peasants ; and let them take their delight with philo-
sophy, who is a far better bride than any other."

Such then was Boccaccio's mood, "his state of soul" in
the years between 1354 and 1357. Well might Petrarch
discern in him "a troubled spirit" : "from many letters of
yours," he writes from Milan on December 20, 1355, "I
have extracted one thing, that you have a troubled spirit."

CHAPTER XIII

i357-i363

LEON PILATUS AND THE TRANSLATION OF HOMER —
THE CONVERSION OF BOCCACCIO

THAT a profound change had already taken
place in Boccaccio's point of view, in his
attitude towards life, in his whole moral con-
sciousness, it might seem impossible to doubt
after reading the Corbaccio and the Vita di Dante ; but
though its full significance only became apparent some
years after the publication of those works, the curious
psychologist may perhaps find signs of it before the year
^Ztt- For while that change was on the one hand the
inevitable consequence of his youth and early manhood,
a development from causes that had always been hidden
in his soul, it was also a result, as it was a sign, of his
age, of his passing from youth to middle age, and it
declares itself with the first grey hairs, the first sign of
failing powers and loss of activity, in a sort of disillusion
and pessimism. From this time his life was to be a kind
of looking backward, with a wild regret for the mistakes and
wasted opportunities then perhaps for the first time horribly
visible.

Yes, a part at least of that bitterness, scorn, and anger
against woman might seem to be but the approach of
old age. But side by side with that moral and spiritual
revolution that by no means reached its crisis in 1355, we
may see an intellectual change not less profound, that in

189

igo GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1357

its own way too is also a " looking backward." Hh
creative powers were paralysed. The Corbaccio is the lasl
original or " creative " work that he achieved ; henceforth
his life was to be devoted to scholarship and to criticism
and however eager we may be to acknowledge the debt
we owe him for his labours in those fields, we cannot but
admit that they are a sign of failing power, of a lost grip
on life, on reality ; and though we can hardly have hoped
for another Decameron, we are forced to allow that the
energy which created the one we have was of quite
another and a higher sort than that which produced the
works of learning which fill the last twenty years of his life.

When Petrarch first met Boccaccio, as we have seen, it
was not so much of Italian letters as of antiquity that
they spoke ; and ever after we find that the elder poet
brings the conversation back to that, to him the most
important of subjects, when Boccaccio, with his keener
sense of life and greater vitality, would have involved him
in political discussion, or persuaded him to consider such
aspects of the life of his own time as are to be found, for
instance, so plentifully in the Decameron. Seeing the
way Petrarch was determined to follow, venerating him as
his master and leader, always ready to give him the first
place, it is not surprising that Boccaccio interested him-
self more and more in what so engrossed his friend. In
1354 Petrarch thanks him1 for an anthology from the
works of Cicero and Varro that he had composed and
given him, and in the same year he thanks him again for
S. Augustine's Commentary on the Psalms.

Long before he met Boccaccio in Florence in 1350,
however, Petrarch had begun the study of Greek in
Avignon in 1342 under the Basilian monk Barlaam,2
whom he had met there in 1339.

1 Petrarch, Fam., XVIII, 3 and 4.

2 But see Lo Parco, Petrarca e Barlaam da nuove ricerche e documenti
inediti e rari (Reggio, Calabria, 1905).

363] LEON PILATUS 191

According to Boccaccio, Barlaam was a man of small
stature but of prodigious learning, the Abbot of the
monastery of S. Gregory, a bitter theological disputant with
nany enemies, but in high favour at the court of Con-
stantinople, whence the Emperor Andronicus had sent him
:o Avignon ostensibly on a mission for the reunion of the
Churches, but really to ask for the assistance of the West
n the struggle with the Turks. Barlaam was in fact
1 Calabrian, but most of his life had been spent in
5alonica and Constantinople. He knew Greek ; that was
lis value in Petrarch's eyes, and he seems to have read
with the poet certain dialogues of Plato.1 In 1342, how-
ever, Barlaam become Bishop of Gerace,2 and Petrarch lost
lim before his greatest desire had begun to be satisfied, to
wit, the translation of Homer, which, with the Middle Age,
tie only knew in the mediocre abridgment I lias Latina,
the weakness of which he recognised.3 Eleven years later,
in 1353, however, Petrarch met in Avignon Nicolas
Sigeros, another ambassador of the Emperor of Con-
stantinople, come on a similar mission to Barlaam's. They
spoke together of Homer, and in the following year when
Sigeros was departed, he sent Petrarch as a gift the Greek
text of the Iliad and the Odyssey. This the poet received
with an enthusiastic letter of thanks, at the same time
zonfessing his insufficiency as a Hellenist.4

Now in the winter of 1358-9, during a sojourn at
Padua, there was introduced to Petrarch by one of his
friends a certain Leon Pilatus, who gave himself out for
a Greek ; and the poet seized the opportunity to get a

1 See De Nohlac, Les Scholies inMites de Pitrarque sur Homere in
Revue de Philologie, de Litttrature et d' Histoire anciennes, Vol. XI (Paris,
[887), p. 97 et seq. ; and Idem, Petrarque e Barlaam in Revue des Etudes
■p-ecques (Paris, 1892).

2 Petrarch, Fam., XVIII (Fracassetti, 2nd ed., Vol. II, p. 474).

8 He says of it : " Libellus, ille vulgo qui tuus fertur, et si cuius sit non
:onstet, tibi excerptus tibique inscriptus tuus utique non est." — Fam., XXIV,
12 (Fracassetti, Vol. Ill, p. 293). Cf. also Fam., X (Fracassetti, Vol. II,
p. 89), and the critical edition of F. Plessis, Italici Mas Latina (Paris,
1885). 4 Fam XVIII, 2.

192 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO ['357

translation of a part of his MS. of Homer.1 In the
spring, however, he went to Milan, and it was there
on March 16, 1359, that Boccaccio visited him, finding
him in his garden "in orto Sanctae Valerias Mediolani."2

That visit, from one point of view so consoling foi
Boccaccio, must have cost him a pang ; for he had, as wt
have seen, always blamed Petrarch for accepting tht
hospitality of the Visconti, those enemies of his country
But he had not allowed the fact that Petrarch had dis
regarded his protests to interfere with their friendship
Keen patriot as he always remained, Boccaccio, without ir
any way changing his opinion, accepted Petrarch's strange
conduct, his indifference to nationalism, with a modesty a:
charming as it is rare, and allowing himself to take u\
the attitude of a disciple, made a pilgrimage to the city h<
hated for the sake of the friend he loved ; and cost what i
may have done, that visit, long planned we gather, mus

1 See the letter to Boccaccio, to be quoted later. Far., XXV.

■ Cf. Petrarch, Fam.t XX, 6, 7 (To Francesco Nelli, III, Id. Ap.). Thi
visit of Boccaccio's to Petrarch has been long known to have taken place i
the spring of 1359; but the date is fixed for us by a MS. in Petrarch'
hand found by De Nohlac in his Apuleius (Vatican MS. 2193, fol. 156
Cf. De Nohlac, Petrarque et son jardin in Giomale Storico delta Letteratttr
Italiana, Vol. XI (1887), p. 404 et seq. I give below that part of the MS
which refers to 1359 : —

" Anno 1359, sabato, hora quasi nona martie die xvj° retentare huiusce re
fortunam libuit. Itaque et lauros Cumo [? Como] transmissas per Tadeur
nostrum profundis itidem scrobibus seuimus in orto Sancte Valerie Medic
lani, luna decrescente ; et fuerunt due tenere, tres duriores. Aliquot pos
dies nubila fuerunt et pars anni melior quam in superioribus (imo et pluvio:
mirum in modum crebris et immensis imbribus quotidie, ut sepe de orto qua*
lacus fieret ; denique usque ad kalendas apriles non appariut sol). Inte
cetera multum prodesse deberet et profectum sacrarum arbuscularum, quo
insignis vir. d. Io. Boccaccii de Certaldo, ipsis amicissimus et mihi, casu i
has horas tunc aduectus satimi intrefuit. Videbimus eventum. Omnibi;
radices fuerunt, quibusdam quoque telluris patrie aliquantulum, et prastere
diligentissime obuolute non radices modo sed truncos aduecte sunt, «
recentes valde. Denique prater soli naturam, nihil videtur adversum
attenta qualitate reris et quod non diu ante montes nivium adamantinaqu
glacies omnia tegebant vixque dum penitus abiere.

' ' Jam nunc circa medium aprilem due majores crescent ; alie vero non letc
successus spondent. Credo firmiter terram hanc hinc arbori inimicam."

Cf. also Cochin, Un Amico del Petrarca. Le Lettere di Nelli c
Petrarcha (Bib. Petrarchesca), Firenze, 1901.

363] LEON PILATUS 193

ave been full of refreshment for Boccaccio. We see them
! 1 that quiet garden in Visconti's city planting a laurel, a
; ivourite amusement of Petrarch's, for it reminded him
like of Laura and of his coronation as poet;1 and, "as
' he pleasant days slipped by," talking of poetry, of learn-
! ig, above all of Greek and of that Leon Pilatus recently
! ome into Italy, whom Petrarch had met in Padua.

It is probable that Boccaccio met this man in Milan

•efore he returned to Florence ;2 it is certain that Petrarch

i poke to him of Pilatus, and that Boccaccio asked him to

j isit him. That invitation was accepted, and before the

I nd of the year we see Pilatus established in Florence.

This man who makes such a bizarre figure in Boccaccio's
Kfe seems to have belonged to that numerous race of
I dventurers half Greek, half Calabrian, needy, unscrupu-
; dus, casual, and avaricious, who ceaselessly wandered about
Lurope in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries seeking
Drtune. It might seem strange that such an one should
>lay the part of a teacher and professor, but he certainly
/as not particular, and Petrarch and Boccaccio were
ompelled to put up with what they could get. Pilatus,
lowever, seems to have wearied and disgusted Petrarch ;
t was Boccaccio, more gentle and more heroic, who de-
oted himself to him for the sake of learning. Having
>ersuaded Pilatus to follow him to Florence, he caused a
"hair of Greek to be given to him in the university, and
or almost four years imposed upon himself the society
>f this disagreeable barbarian. For as it seems he was
lothing else ; his one claim on the attention of Petrarch

1 In planting the laurel Petrarch expressed the hope that the presence of
Joccaccio might prove "fortunate" to "these little sacred laurels." Boc-
accio had protested to Petrarch that he was not worthy of the name of poet,
'etrarch insisted that he was. " It is a strange thing," he says, " that you
hould have aimed at being a poet only to shrink from the name." This affair
f the laurel may refer to that incident. "The laurel," says Boccaccio in
tie^ Vitadi Dante, "which is never struck by lightning, crowns poets. ..."

2 He was back in Florence certainly by May. Cf. Hortis, Studi, etc.,
'. 22 note. Petrarch in his letter to Nelli says that Boccaccio's visit was brief.

i94 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1357-

and Boccaccio being that he could, or said he could, speak
Greek.

We know very little about him. He boasted that he
was born in Thessaly, but later owned that he was a
Calabrian.1 His appearance, according to Boccaccio 2 and
Petrarch,3 had something repellant about it. His crabbed
countenance was covered with bristles of black hair, an
untrimmed beard completing the effect ; and his ragged
mantle only half covered his dirty person. Nor were his
manners more refined than his physique ; while his char-
acter seems to have been particularly disagreeable, sombre,
capricious, and surly. Petrarch confesses that he had given
up trying to civilise this rustic, this " magna bellua." 4

Such was Leon Pilatus ; but for the love of Greek
Boccaccio pardoned everything, and he and two or three
friends, the only persons in Florence indeed able to do so,
followed the lectures5 of this improvised professor. But it
was above all in admitting this creature to his own home
that Boccaccio appears most heroic. There he submitted
him to long interviews and interminable seances in order
that he might accomplish the great task of a complete
translation of Homer.

Afar off Petrarch associated himself with this work and
tried to direct it with wise counsels that Leon Pilatus
was doubtless too little of a scholar to understand and
too ignorant to follow blindly. In fact but for Petrarch,
as the following letter proves, they would have lacked the
text itself: —

"You ask me," he writes in 1360,6 "to lend you, if as

1 Petrarch, Epist. Sen., Ill, 6, and V, 3.

2 Boccaccio, De Geneal. Deor., XV, 6.

3 Epist. Sen., Ill, 6, and V, 3.

4 Cf. Hauvette, Le Professeur de Grec de PUrarquc et de Boccace
(Chartres, 1891).

5 Cf. De Nohlac, Les scholies, u.s., p. 101. He began to lecture in the
end of 1359'

6 Petrarch, Var., XXV. In this year Pino de' Rossi was exiled for con-
spiracy against the Guelfs. Boccaccio had dedicated the Amet» to him,

1363] THE TRANSLATION OF HOMER 195

you think I have bought it, the book of Homer that was
for sale at Padua, in order that our friend Leon may
translate it from Greek into Latin for you and for our
other studious compatriots, for you say I have long since
had another example. I have seen this book, but I have
neglected it, because it appeared to me inferior to my
own. One could easily get it, however, through the person
who procured me the friendship of Leon ; a letter of his
would be all-powerful and I will write him myself. If
by chance this book escapes us, which I do not believe,
I will lend you mine. For I have always been desirous
of this translation in particular and of Greek literature in
general, and if Fortune had not been envious of my
beginnings in the miserable death of my excellent master
(PBarlaam), I should perhaps have to-day something more
of Greek than the alphabet.

" I applaud, then, with all my heart and strength your
enterprise. ... I am sorry to see so much solicitude for
the bad and so much negligence of the good. But what
would you ? One must resign oneself to it. . . .

" I hope also here and now to prevent you in one thing,
so as not to repent myself later for having passed it by in
silence. You say that the translation will be word for
word. Hear how on this point S. Jerome expresses him-
self in the preface to the book De Temporibus of Eusebius
of Cesarea that he translated into Latin. It pleases me
to send you the very words of one so learned in both
tongues and in many others, and especially in the art
of translation. ' Let him who says that in translation one
does not lose the grace of the original try to translate
Homer literally into Latin, and into any tongue which he
has, and he will see how ridiculous is the order of the
words and how the most eloquent of poets is made to

and now wrote to console him. In that letter (Corazzini, op. cit., p. 67)
Boccaccio says he has gone to Certaldo to avoid contact with these vile
people (p. 96).

196 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO ['357-

stammer like a child.' I tell you this for your advice
whilst there is yet time, so that such a great work may
not be useless.

" For myself I desire only that the thing be well done.
... In truth the portion I have which the same Leon
translated for me into Latin prose — the beginning of
Homer — has given me a foretaste of the complete work.
... It contains indeed a secret charm. . . . Go on then
with the aid of Heaven ; give us back Homer who was
lost to us. . . .

" In asking me at the same time for the volume of Plato
that I have with me and that escaped the fire in my
house across the Alps, you give me a proof of your ardour,
and I will hold this book at your disposition when you
want it. I will second with all my power such noble
enterprises. But take care that the union of these two
great Princes of Greece be not unseemly, and that the
weight of these two geniuses does not crush the shoulders
of mortals. . . . And remember that the one wrote many
centuries before the other. Good-bye. Milan, 18 August
(1360)."1

From that letter we may gather how eagerly Boccaccio
had turned to this new labour. Was it in order to escape
from himself? Certainly it might seem that in his new
enthusiasm he found for a time, at any rate, a certain con-
solation ; but the crisis was not long delayed. In those
long months while the wretched Pilatus was with him,
however, he was able for a time to ward off the danger ;
and realising this, the comedy of that friendship is almost
pathetic.

We seem to see him eagerly drinking in the words that
fell from the surly Calabrian, pressing him with questions,
taking note of all and trying to understand everything —
even what his master himself could not understand. As
for the master, flattered and puffed up by the confidence
1 Petrarch, Variei XXV.

1363] THE CONVERSION OF BOCCACCIO 197

that Boccaccio seems to have felt in him, he no doubt
replied to all his questionings in the tone of a man who
knew perfectly what he was talking about, and had
nothing to fear or to hide. Sometimes, no doubt, the
adventurer showed itself. Weary and bored by the in-
cessant work, his sullen humour exasperated by the
sedentary life, Pilatus would demand his liberty. Then
Boccaccio would have to arm himself with all his patience,
and by sweetness and gentleness and good-humour would
at last persuade the wretched man to remain a little longer
with him.

Suddenly in the midst of this difficult work with Pilatus
his trouble descended upon him, with a supernatural force
as he thought. He received a message from a dying saint
— a message that warned him of his approaching end and
certain damnation unless he should repent. When exactly
this message reached him we do not know. It may well
have been in the end of 1361, but it was more probably in
the first months of 1362. He was in any case in no fit
state to meet the blow.

In those days when political crises followed hard on
one another, and the very aspect of a city might change
in the course of a few years, Boccaccio's youth must then
have seemed infinitely far away. His Corbaccio had been
written " to open the eyes of the young " to the horror of
woman. While in very many ways he is the pioneer
of the Renaissance, in his heart there lingered yet some-
thing, if only a shadow, of the fear of joy. All his joys
had been adventures on which he scarcely dared to enter,
and while he was never a puritan, as one sometimes thinks
Petrarch may have been, he was so perfectly of his own
time as to " repent him of his past life." For a nature
like that of Boccaccio was capable only of enthusiasm. He
had loved Fiammetta to distraction, and those who only see
there a lust of the flesh have never understood Boccaccio.
His other loves were what you will, what they always are

ig8 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1357-

and must be ; but when Fiammetta died, the very centre
of his world was shaken.1 He could not follow her through
Hell and Purgatory into the meadows of Paradise as
Dante had followed Beatrice : he was of the modern
world. For Dante, earth, heaven, purgatory, and hell
were but chambers in the universe of God. For Boc-
caccio there remained just the world.

Having the religious sense, he accused himself of sin as
St. Paul had done, as St. John of the Cross was to do,
with an astonishing eccentricity, an exaggeration which
lost sight of the truth, in a profound self-humiliation. Of
such is the lust of the spirit. He too had found it difficult
"to keep in the right way amid the temptations of the
world." And then, suddenly it seems, on the threshold of
old age, poor and alone, he thought to love God with the
same enthusiasm with which he had loved woman. He
was not capable of it ; his whole life rose up to deny him
this impassioned consolation, and his " spirit was troubled,"
as the wise and steadfast eyes of Petrarch had seen.

It was in the midst of this disease, to escape from which,
as we may think, he had so eagerly thrown himself into
the translation of Homer with Pilatus, that a certain
Gioacchino Ciani sought him out to warn him, as he in-
tended to warn Petrarch, of the nearness of death. In
doing this the monk, for he was a Carthusian, was but
obeying the dying commands of the Beato Pietro Petroni,2

1 Because Boccaccio's love for Fiammetta was not a passion wholly or
almost wholly spiritual, as we may suppose Dante's to have been for Beatrice,
we are eager to deny it any permanence or strength. Why ? Perhaps a pas-
sion almost wholly sensual if really profound is more persistent than any
desire in which the mind alone is involved.

2 Our source of information is Petrarch's letter, quoted below in the text
(Ep. Sen., I, 5). The affair is recounted in the life of Beato Pietro Petroni,
who died May 29, 1361, by Giovanni Columbini. This life has been con-
served and enriched with notes by the Carthusian of Siena, Bartholommeo,
in 1619. It is printed in the Acta Sanctorum, May 29 (Tom. VII, Antwerp,
1668, p. 186 et seq.). Boccaccio's story is told at p. 228. There seems to be
nothing there not gleaned from Petrarch's letter. Cf. also Traversari, //
Beato Pietro Petroni e la conversione del B. (Teani, 1905), and Graf, Fu
superstizioso il B. ? in Mill, Leggende e Superstiz. del Medioevo (Torino,
JS93), Vol. II, p. 167 et seq.

1363] THE CONVERSION OF BOCCACCIO 199

a Sienese who had seen on his death-bed " the present, the
past, and the future." Already drawn towards a new life
— a life which under the direction of the Church he was
told would be without the consolations of literature — at
the sudden intervention, as it seemed, of Heaven, Boc-
caccio did the wisest thing of his whole life — he asked for
the advice of Petrarch.

The letter which Petrarch wrote him takes its rank
among the noblest of his writings, and is indeed one of the
most beautiful letters ever written.

"Your letter," he says — "Your letter, my brother, has
filled me with an extraordinary trouble. In reading it I
became the prey of a great astonishment, and also of a
great chagrin : after reading it both the one and the other
have disappeared. How could I read without weeping the
story of your tears and of your approaching death, being
totally ignorant of the facts and only paying attention to
the words ? But at last when I had turned and fixed my
thoughts on the thing itself, the state of my soul changed
altogether, and both astonishment and chagrin fled
away. . . .

"You tell me that this holy man had a vision of our
Lord, and so was able to discern all truth — a great sight
for mortal eyes to see. Great indeed, I agree with you, if
genuine ; but how often have we not known this tale of a
vision made a cloak for an imposture? And having visited
you, this messenger proposed, I understand, to go to Naples,
thence to Gaul and Britain, and so to me. Well, when he
comes I will examine him closely ; his looks, his demean-
our, his behaviour under questioning, and so forth, shall
help me to judge of his truthfulness. And the holy man
on his death-bed saw us two and a few others to whom
he had a secret message, which he charged this visitor of
yours to give us ; so, if I understand you rightly, runs the
story. Well, the message to you is twofold : you have not
long to live, and you must give up poetry. Hence your

200 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO 1*357

trouble, which I made my own while reading your lette:
but which I put away from me on thinking it over, as you
will do also; for if you will only give heed to me, or rather
to your own natural good sense, you will see that you have
been distressing yourself about a thing that should have
pleased you. Now if this message is really from the Lord,
it must be pure truth. But is it from the Lord ? Or has
its real author used the Lord's name to give weight to his
own saying? I grant you the frequency of death-bed
prophecies ; the histories of Greece and Rome are full of
instances ; but even though we allow that these old stories
and your monitor's present tale are all true, still what is
there to distress you so terribly? What is there new in
all this ? You knew without his telling you that you
could not have a very long space of life before you. And
is not our life here labour and sorrow, and is it not its chief
merit that it is the road to a better? . . . Ah! but you have
come to old age, says your monitor. Death cannot be far
off. Look to your soul. Well, I grant you that scholar-
ship may be an unreasonable and even bitter pursuit for
the old, if they take it up then for the first time ; but if
you and your scholarship have grown old together, 'tis the
pleasantest of comforts. Forsake the Muses, says he :
many things that may grace a lad are a disgrace to an
old man ; wit and the senses fail you. Nay, I answer,
when he bids you pluck sin from your heart, he speaks
well and prudently. But why forsake learning, in which
you are no novice but an expert, able to discern what to
choose and what to refuse? . . . All history is full of
examples of good men who have loved learning, and
though many unlettered men have attained to holiness,
no man was ever debarred from holiness by letters. . . .
But if in spite of all this you persist in your intention, and
if you must needs throw away not only your learning, but
the poor instruments of it, then I thank you for giving me
the refusal of your books. I will buy your library, if it

1363] THE CONVERSION OF BOCCACCIO 201

must be sold, for I would not that the books of so great a
man should be dispersed abroad and hawked about by
unworthy hands. I will buy it and unite it with my own ;
then some day this mood of yours will pass, some day you
will come back to your old devotion. Then you shall
make your home with me, you will find your books side
by side with mine, which are equally yours. Thenceforth
we shall share a common life and a common library, and
when the survivor of us is dead, the books shall go to
some place where they will be kept together and dutifully
tended, in perpetual memory of us who owned them."1

That noble letter, so sane in its piety, in some sort cured
Boccaccio. We hear no more of the fanatic monk, and
the books were never bought, for they were never sold.
Petrarch, however, did not forget his friend. He caused
the office of Apostolic Secretary to be offered him,
and that Boccaccio had the strength and independence to
refuse the sinecure assures us of his restored sanity.

But we may well ask ourselves what had brought
Boccaccio to such a pass that he was at the mercy of such
infernal humbugs and liars as the Blessed Pietro and his
rascal friend. That he was in a wretched state of mind and
soul we know, and the causes we know too in part, but they
by no means account for the fact that the first enemy of
monks and friars and all their blackguardism should have
fallen so easily into their hands. Was Boccaccio supersti-
tious? That he was less superstitious, less credulous,
than the men of his time generally is certain ; that he was
content to believe what Petrarch attacked and laughed at
we shall presently see; but that he can be properly accused
of superstition remains doubtful. Certainly he believed in
dreams;2 he believed in astrology;3 he believed that a

1 I quote to some extent the excellent redaction of Mr. Hollway-Calthrop,
Petrarch and his Times (Methuen, 1907), p. 237 etseq.

2 De Geneal. Deorum, I, 31, and De Casidus, II, 7.

3 De Geneal. Deorum, I, 10 ; III, 22; IX, 4. Comento sopra Dante
(Milanesi, Firenze, 1S63), Vol. I, p. 480 et seq.

202 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO 1*357-

strabism or squint was an indication of an evil soul ;* he
believed in visible devils;2 he believed that ^Eneas truly
descended into Hades and that Virgil was a magician.3
He may well have believed all such things and have been
no worse off than many a Prince of the Church to-day ; at
any rate, such beliefs, unreasonable as they may appear to
us, cannot have led him to the incredible folly of believing
in the Blessed Pietro and his messenger.

It might seem inexplicable that he who had exposed the
lies and tricks of the monks so often should have been
himself so easily deceived. Had he not exposed them ?
There was Fra Cipolla — true he was a friar — part of
whose stock-in-trade was a tale of relics — " the finger of
the Holy Ghost as whole and entire as ever it was, the
tuft of the seraph that appeared to S. Francis and one of
the nails of the cherubim, one of the ribs of the Verbum
caro fatti alle finestre (factum est) and some of the vest-
ment of the Holy Catholic Faith, some of the rays of the
star that appeared to the Magi, a phial of the sweat of
S. Michael abattling with the Devil, the jaws of death of
S. Lazarus, and other relics." 4

It might seem inexplicable ! Unfortunately, however,
Boccaccio also believed that those about to die can par-
ticipate in the spirit of prophecy.5 Thus he was for the
moment, at any rate, altogether at the mercy of the Blessed
Pietro. The splendid common-sense, the caustic wit of
Petrarch helped him, it is true, to recover himself, but that
bitter and humiliating experience left a permanent mark
upon him. He was a changed man. With an immense
regret he looked back on his life, and would have destroyed
if he could the gay works of his youth, even the Decameron,

1 Comento sopra Dante, ed. cit., II, p. 56; i.e. he believed in the evil
eye ; so did Pio Nono's cardinals.

2 Ibid., u.s., II, p. 156.

3 Ibid., u.s., I, p. 216.

4 Decameron, VI, io. I deal with Boccaccio's treatment of monks and
friars and the clergy generally in my chapter on the Decameron (see infra).

5 Comento, ed. cit., Vol. II, p. 19.

1363] THE CONVERSION OF BOCCACCIO 203

and, for a time at least, he would have been content to sacri-
fice everything, not only his poetry in the vulgar and his
romances and stories, but the new learning itself, the study
of antiquity, and to enter into some monastery.

That he did not do so we owe in part at least to
Petrarch. For when he had read his letter and come
to himself, he returned to Pilatus and the translation of
Homer.1

That translation was scarcely finished when Pilatus
wished to be gone, and he seems in fact to have accom-
panied Boccaccio to Venice on his visit to Petrarch
probably in May, 1363.2 That visit was a kind of flight ;
he seems to have taken refuge with Petrarch from the fears
of his own heart, and that it was as full of pleasure and
enjoyment for Petrarch, as of consolation for Boccaccio,
happily we know and can assert.

1 Baldelli tells us that Pilatus left Boccaccio in 1362, but this is not so,
for they went together to see Petrarch in Venice in 1363 (see infra).
Baldelli's assertion is probably founded on the obscure and doubtful letter
of Boccaccio to Francesco Nelli (Corazzini, p. 131), from which we learn that
Boccaccio went to Naples on the invitation of Acciaiuoli, as we suppose, in
1362. This letter, which is very long, is dated, according to Corazzini, August
28, 1363. Now before September 7, 1363, Nelli was dead of the plague in
Naples, as appears from Petrarch's letter (Sen., Ill, i., September 7, 1363).
Hortis (Studi, p. 20, n. 3) is of opinion that this letter is apocryphal.
Todeschini ( Opinione sulla epistola del prior e di S. Apostolo [sic] attribuita al
Boccaccio, Venice, 1832) convinced Hortis of this. Todeschini does not
believe in this visit to Naples, and in fact the only notice we have of it is
contained in the letter he discards. His arguments are as follows. Until
May, 1362, Boccaccio dwelt certainly in Tuscany, where in 1361, or more
probably in 1362, Ciani visited him, and whence he wrote Petrarch the letter
we have lost to which Petrarch replied in the noble letter I have cited above
(Sen., I, 5) on May 28, 1362. (Cf. Fracassetti's note to this letter.) It is not
possible that Boccaccio can have been in Naples between the autumn of 1361
and May, 1362, because he himself tells us that for three years he was with
Pilatus, who enjoyed his hospitality and from whom he learned to understand
Homer. Now it is certain that he did not know Pilatus before 1360, and was
with him till 1363, when, as we shall see, they visited Petrarch together in
Venice. (Cf. Fracassetti in his note to Fam., XVIII, 2.)

2 This visit must have been between March 13 and September 7, 1363, on
both of which dates Petrarch wrote to him. The letter of September 7
seems to have been written immediately after his departure (Senili, II, I,
and III, 1). Cf. also De Nohlac, op. cit., p. 102. Cf. also Boccaccio's
letter to Pietro di Monteforte, which Hortis, op. cit., thinks refers to this
visit. Corazzini, op. cit., p. 337.

204 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1357

" I have always thought," Petrarch writes to him after
his return to Tuscany,1 " I have always thought that
your presence would give me pleasure, I knew it would,
and I felt that it would please you too. What I did not
know, however, was that it would bring good fortune. For
during the very few months, gone so quickly, that you
have cared to dwell with me in this house that I call mine,
and which is yours, it seems to me, in truth, that I have
contracted a truce with fortune who, while you were here,
dared not spoil my happiness. . . ."

We know nothing more of that visit save that Boccaccio
must have returned to Tuscany before the writing of that
letter, before the 7th of September then. As for Pilatus, he
too left Venice " at the end of the summer " 2 to return to
Constantinople, "cursing Italy and the Latin name," as
Petrarch says. " One would have thought him scarcely
arrived there," Petrarch continues, " when I received
a badly written and very long letter, more untidy than
his beard or his hair, in which among other things he
said he loved and longed for Italy as for some heavenly
country, that he hated Greece which he had loved and
execrated Byzantium which he had praised, and he suppli-
cated me to send for him back as eagerly as Peter, about
to be shipwrecked, prayed Christ to still the waves."

To make a long story short, Petrarch ignored his
petition. This, however, did not stop Pilatus. He em-
barked for Italy, but a storm wrecked the ship in which
he sailed in the Adriatic, and though he was not drowned
he was struck and killed by lightning. Petrarch wonders if
amid his u wretched baggage, which, thanks to the honesty
of the sailors, is in safety, I shall find the Euripides,
Sophocles, and other manuscripts which he had promised
to procure for me." 3 The two friends mourned him
sincerely, forgetting their disgust in remembering that

1 Stnili, III, 1. 2 Ibid., Ill, 6 (March, 1365).

3 /bid., VI, 1.

TITLE OF THE SPANISH TRANSLATION OK THE "DECAMERON.
(VALLADOLID, 1539)
(By the courtesy of Messrs. J. &r J. Leighton.)

1363] THE TRANSLATION OF HOMER 205

Pilatus had known Greek, and rinding touching words to
deplore the tragic death of the first translator of Homer.

As for the translation he had made, Petrarch did not see
it for some years. The first time he asks for it is in a
letter of March 1, 1364.1 There he asks for a fragment
of the Odyssey, " partem illam Odysseae qua Ulyxes it ad
inferos et locorum quae in vestibulo Erebi sunt descrip-
tionem ab Homero factam . . . quam primum potes . . .
utcumque tuis digitis exaratam." Later he asks for the
whole: "In futurum autem, si me amas, vide obsecro an
tuo studio, mea impensa fieri possit ut Homerus integer
bibliothecam hanc ubi pridem graecus habitat, tandem
latinos accedat." These words are very clear. Petrarch
says he will pay the copyist himself. So that, as Hortis
asserts, the first version of Homer was made at the sug-
gestion of Petrarch by Pilatus at the expense of Boc-
caccio.

In the letter of December 14, 1365,2 Petrarch thanks
Boccaccio for sending him the Iliad and a part of the
Odyssey ; but that part did not contain the details he
wanted concerning the descent of Ulysses into Hades and
his voyage along the Italian shores. Even this incomplete
copy, though sent off in 1365 by Boccaccio, was a long
time in reaching him. On January 27, 1366, he had not
yet received it.3 But at last it arrived, and Petrarch wrote
to thank Boccaccio for it.4 This letter, however, is not
dated, and its contents do not help us to decide exactly
when it was written. At any rate, it was after January,
1366, that Petrarch received the precious work. He
promised to return this MS. to Boccaccio when he had had
it copied ; but he seems to have found it difficult to get
a capable person to do this ; and when he had found

1 Senili, VII, 5. Fracassetti gives this letter the wrong date of 1365 in
his translation, but in a note to Fam., XVII, 2 (q.v. for the visit of Boccaccio),
he adopts the right year.

2 Senilis VII. " Ibid., VI, 1. 4 Ibid., VI, 2.

206 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1357-63

him we see him travelling about with him, that the work
might be done under his constant supervision.1

It is this MS., which M. de Nohlac discusses and
describes, that is now in Paris (Bib. Nat., 7880, 1). In it we
are able to judge of the extent of Pilatus's knowledge.
That he knew Greek seems incontrovertible, but that he
knew the Homeric idiom very imperfectly is not less cer-
tain ; he seems too to have had a poor knowledge of
Latin. His translation is full of obscurity, platitude, and
mistranslations — in fact, crammed with all the errors of a
schoolboy : when he does not know a word, and has to
confess it, he writes the Greek word in Latin characters ;
what we see in fact is not a faithful but a blind trans-
lation. And it was for this that Petrarch had waited so
patiently ! " Penelope," he says, " had not more ardently
longed for Ulysses."2 He studied it with passion, often
deceived, no doubt, but never discouraged. The notes
with which he covered page after page show us the growing
feebleness of his hand, but never of his spirit. He died
while he was annotating the Odyssey.

Boccaccio, on the other hand, with a charming and naive
sincerity, owns that he did not understand much, but adds
that the little he did understand seemed to him beautiful.
He was very proud of his victory, and rightly ; for by its
means the Renaissance was able to give Homer his right-
ful place in its culture.

1 De Nohlac, op. cit., p. 102. 2 Epist. Fam., XXIV, 12.

CHAPTER XIV
1363-1372

THE EMBASSIES TO THE POPE — VISITS TO VENICE AND
NAPLES— BOCCACCIO'S LOVE OF CHILDREN

BOCCACCIO returned from Venice to Tuscany
some time before September, 1363, not long
before, as we may think, for the letter Petrarch
wrote him on September 71 seems to have fol-
lowed close on his heels. It appears that as he was on
the eve of leaving Petrarch, for the last time as it proved,
he had learned that the plague which was raging in
Central and Southern Italy had carried off Lello di Pietro
Stefano and Francesco Nelli, their common friends, Lelius
and Simonides, as Petrarch calls them. Disliking to be the
bearer of ill-tidings, Boccaccio had departed from Venice,
leaving Petrarch to learn of this disaster from others, and
a good part of the letter Petrarch wrote him, immediately
after he was gone, it seems, is devoted to deploring the
death of their friends.

" An hour after your departure," he writes, " the priest
whom I had charged to carry a letter to my friend Lelius
returned bringing me my letter unopened. It was not
necessary for him to speak; his face told me the news. . . .
But while with my hand I soothed this new wound, and
tried to catch my breath, a second blow fell upon me. He
in whose arms he expired told me of the death of our
Simonides. . . . You are almost the only companion in

1 Sen., Ill, 1.
207

208 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1363-

learning left to me. . . . This year 1363, which is the
sixteenth from the beginning of our miseries [from the
plague of 1348], has renewed the attack on many noble
cities, among others on Florence. . . . To this disaster is
added the fury of a war against the Pisans ... of which
the issue is still uncertain."

Petrarch might well be uneasy. Though never a good
patriot as Boccaccio always was, he could not but be
moved at the misfortunes of Florence, which had only
escaped the attentions of Pandolfo Malatesta by placing
herself almost at the mercy of Hawkwood and his White
Company of Englishmen, fighting in the Pisan service.
That winter, to the astonishment of all, a campaign was
fought, for the English laughed at the Italian winter,
colder maybe, but so much drier than their own, and by
the spring Visconti had made peace with the Pope and
with the Marquis of Montferrat, so that they were able to
send Baumgarten's German company, 3000 strong, to the
assistance of the Pisans, who had now not less than 6000
mercenaries in their service. Those were very anxious
times in Florence, the whole contado being at the mercy
of Hawkwood, and when, by the intervention of the Pope,
peace was signed in the autumn of 1364, she must have
been thankful, more especially as Pisa engaged to pay her
100,000 florins indemnity within ten years.

The Pope, however, was far from satisfied with Florence.
He found her to have been lukewarm in the service of
the Church when Romagna and the Marche rebelled,
which, if true, was not surprising, for he had played
fast and loose with her liberty, and now accused her
of neglecting his interests and of attempting to detach
other cities from his cause. These among other accusa-
tions ; in return he threatened no longer to grant her his
goodwill.

The whole situation was serious. The temporal
power of the Church with the victories of Albornoz was

EMBASSY TO AVIGNON 209

gain growing in Italy ; it was now certain that the Pope
fould one day return. It was necessary to placate him.
^nd again in this delicate mission the Florentines em-
Joyed Boccaccio.

It cannot have been with very great enthusiasm that

toccaccio learned he was once more to cross the Alps

n a mission as difficult as any he had handled. He had

^turned from Venice in 1363 quieted, altogether recon-

iled, for a time at any rate, with himself, determined not

3 abandon his work. Ever since 1359, certainly, he had

evoted himself to learning, to the study of Greek and the

,atin classics, of the great early Christian writers, and to

le accumulation of knowledge. For ten years now, ever

nee the failure of his mission in 1354, he had not been

sked to undertake diplomatic business, and whether or

d that neglect had been due to his failure or to his inter-

)urse with Pino de' Rossi, who in 1360 was implicated in a

>nspiracy against the Guelfs, it cannot have been any-

ling but distressing, we may think, to one so patriotic, so

terested in politics too, as Boccaccio, to have been so

ng neglected, only to be made use of again in his old

*e. But the true patriot is always ready to serve his

mntry, be she never so neglectful, and so, in spite of

e interference with his plans, and the hardness and

ials of the journey, it was not altogether, we may be

re, without a sort of pride and gladness that he set out

r Avignon in August, 1365.1

1 On August 9 and 16 the Republic had written letters to the Maestri
lla Fraternita and to Francesco Bruni rebutting the charges the Pope had
.de against her. These letters were to be shown to the Pope. On
igust 20 the instructions of the Republic to Giovanni Boccaccio were
iwn up in a long memorandum. See Arch. Stor. Ital. , Ser. I, App. , Vol. VII,
413 et seq. The Pope replies more than a year later on September 8,
36, thanking the Republic for the letters with which Francesco Bruni had
juainted him, especially for soliciting him to return to Italy. He says he
letermined to return for the good of the Church and of Italy, and particu-

i ly of Florence, who has shown herself so devoted to the Holy See. Ibid.

\ ! also Corazzini, op. cit., p. 395, and Hortis, G. B. Ambasciatore in

. 'ignone (Trieste, 1875).

210 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1363-

His business was to convince the Pope that the Floren-
tines were " the most faithful and most devout servants ol
Holy Church." Besides the letters which he bore for Fran-
cesco Bruni and others in Avignon, Boccaccio also carried
one from the Republic to the Doge of Genoa,1 and he re-
mained in that city for a season. It is to his stay there
that, as he tells us in the argomento, his thirteenth Eclogue
refers. In that poem he tells us that he and the poet called
Dafni had a discussion with a merchant Stilbone, of which
Criti was judge. Stilbone eagerly praises riches at the
expense of poetry, reminding Dafni how many are the
perils that menace that fragile glory which poets value sc
highly, such as fire and war, which may easily destroy
their works. Dafni, on the other hand, celebrates the
power of poetry, which recalls the minds of men from
the depths of Erebus. Criti praises both riches and
poetry, but does not decide between them.

While Boccaccio was in Genoa, it seems, Petrarch
thought he should have visited him in Pavia on his way tc
Avignon, but owing to the need for haste, the fatigue ol
the way, and the difficulties he feared to encounter at his age
on the route, he was compelled not to do so. Later, on
December 14, Petrarch wrote him of his disappoint-
ment : — 2

" You have done well to visit me at least by letter, since
you did not care, or you were unable, to visit me in person.
Having heard that you were crossing the Alps to see the
Babylon of the West, far worse than that of the East
because she is nearer to us, I was uneasy about the result
of your voyage until I heard that you had returned.
Knowing now for many years, by my frequent journeys,
the difficulties of the roads, and remembering the weighti-
ness of your body and the gravity of your spirit, friends

1 Hortis (G. B. Ambasciatore) has published this letter.

2 Senile V, I. Boccaccio had received instructions to hurry back to Italy.
"Vosautem domine Johannes sollicitetis commissionem vestrum et rescribi-
bentes vestrum etiam reditum festinetis."

...

EMBASSY TO AVIGNON 211

)f a studious leisure, and by consequence enemies of such

Ks and of such business, not a day, not a night has
ed tranquilly for me. I thank God that you have
•emained safe and sound. . . . Assuredly, if you had not

I very pressed, it would not have been difficult, since
were in Genoa, to come on here. It is only two days'
ley. You would have seen me . . . and you would
seen what you have not seen it seems to me — the
1 of Pavia (Ticinum) on the banks of the Ticino. . . ,
since circumstances have willed that I should be
leprived of your greeting, as you say, because of the
atigue of the journey and your mistrust of your strength,
.nd because of the shortness of the time at your disposal

I the order of the fatherland which awaits your return,
uld have desired at least that you should have met my
id Guido [Guido Settimo], Archbishop of Genoa. In
ig him you would have seen me, for since infancy
ive lived with him in perfect conformity of will and
iment. And, believe me, you would have seen a man
, though weak in body, has a spirit of great energy ;
would have said you had never seen any one more full
f vitality. . . ."

Petrarch was evidently hurt that Boccaccio had not
een able to go to Pavia. It was necessary, however, for
im to reach Avignon with all speed. And there, indeed,
e was welcomed by Petrarch's friends. For that letter,
o full of regrets, continues : —
"But to end my complaints with a congratulation,
am glad that in Babylon itself you have seen those
-iends that death has left me, and, above all, him who, as
ou say, is a veritable father : my dear Filippo, Patriarch
f Jerusalem. To paint him in a few words, he is a man
s great as his title, and indeed he is worthy of the
'apacy if one day that should add itself to his merits.
rou write me that without having known you till then, he
eld you in a long embrace and pressed you closely and

212 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1363-

afFectionately, even as I myself would have done, in the
utmost friendship, in the presence of the sovereign pontifl
and his astonished cardinals. . . ."

Boccaccio seems to have remained in Avignon till
November. His mission did not meet with much success
the Pope was hard to persuade and to convince. For al
this trouble and fatigue Boccaccio received from the
Republic ninety florins of gold, at the rate of four florins a
day. This certainly could by no means have met all hie
expenses. Poor as he was, he had to pay for the honoui
of serving his country.1

That was probably the most important, though, as we
shall see, not the last of Boccaccio's missions. It was the
eve of the Pope's return to Rome, and once more Italy
seemed to be in sight of a kind of peace.

The year 1366 was probably spent by Boccaccio al
Certaldo in meditation and work; but in 1367, troublec
again in spirit, as it seems, and very poor, he suddenly
decided to set out for Venice to see Petrarch.

He left Certaldo on March 24,2 but coming to Florence
" the continual rains, the dissuasions of friends, and the feai
of the dangers of the way," added to the tales of those
who had made the journey from Bologna, caused him tc
hesitate. Then he learned that Petrarch had left Venice
for Pavia, and was once more a guest of the Visconti, se
that he was on the point of giving up his journey
But the desire to see again some of those friends he hac
met before in Venice, and, above all, the thought of seeing
Petrarch's daughter and her husband, " Thy Tullia anc
her Francesco," whom he had not met before, decidec
him to continue a journey he accomplished not withoul
much weariness.

On the way, as it happened, he met Petrarch's son-in-

1 Cf. Hortis, G. B. Ambasciatore.

2 For the following particulars see Boccaccio's letter to Petrarch. Ut U
viderem, Corazzini, op. cit., p. 123.

1372] VISIT TO VENICE 213

law Franceschino da Brossano di Amicolo, whose charac-
ter, voice, and beauty he praises so highly. " After festive
and friendly greetings, after learning from him that you
were safe and sound, and much other good news
concerning you, I began to consider him, his form and
beauty (ccepi aliquandiu mecum meditari pregrandem
hominis formam), his quiet and pleasing face, his calm
words . . . how I praised your choice. Finally he left
me, for he had business to do. And I in the earliest
dawn went aboard my little boat (naviculam) and im-
mediately set out for the Venetian shore, where I landed
«d would have sent at once to announce myself, but
lie of our brother citizens were already about me and
bring me hospitality. ... In spite, however, of Donato's
Bussing invitation, I went off with Francesco Allegri. . . .
ell you all this in all these words to excuse myself for
t having accepted the offer you made me so warmly by
etter ; but if my friends had not been there to meet me
[ should have gone to an inn rather than have dwelt in
:he house of Tullia while her husband was absent. How-
ever, although you know in this and in many other things
:he integrity of my heart towards you, all others would not
enow it, and some would have jeered in spite of my white
lair (canum caput) and my age and my fatness and
eebleness, which should surely shut their mouths. This
and of thing is easily and willingly believed by evil-
ninded scandal-mongers, who prefer a lie to the truth.

" After reposing myself a little I went to salute Tullia,
vho had already heard of my arrival. . . . She met me
oyfully, blushing a little, and looking on the ground, with
modesty and filial affection, and she saluted and embraced
ne. . . .

"Presently we were talking in your charming little garden
vith some friends, and she offered me with matronly
serenity your house, your books, and all your things
here. Suddenly little footsteps — and there came towards

2i4 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO U363-

us thy Eletta, my delight, who, without knowing who I
was, looked at me smiling. I was not only delighted, I
greedily took her in my arms, imagining that I held my
little one (virgunculam olim meam) that is lost to me.
What shall I say? If you do not believe me, you will
believe Guglielmo da Ravenna, the physician, and our
Donato, who knew her. Your little one has the same
aspect that she had who was my Eletta, the same expres-
sion, the same light in the eyes, the same laughter there,
the same gestures, the same way of walking, the same
way of carrying all her little person ; only my Eletta
was, it is true, a little taller when at the age of five
and a half I saw her for the last time.1 Besides, she talks
in the same way, uses the same words, and has the same
simplicity. Indeed, indeed, there is no difference save that
thy little one is golden-haired, while mine had chestnut
tresses (aurea cesaries tuae est, mese inter nigram rufamque
fuit). Ah me ! how many times when I have held thine
in my arms listening to her prattle the memory of my
baby stolen away from me has brought tears to my eyes —
which I let no one see."

That love of children so characteristic in an Italian,
and yet so surprising in Boccaccio to those who without

1 The Eclogue XIV tells us much that otherwise we should never have known
as to Boccaccio's children. It is there we hear of his little daughter Violante,
whom he there calls Olympia, and who died " at an age when one goes straight
to heaven." " Pro Olympia," he says, in the letter already quoted, to Matteo da
Signa, " intelligo parvulam filiam meam olim mortuam, ea in setate, in
qua morientes coelestes effici cives credimus ; et ideo ex Violante cum viveret,
mortuam ccclestcm idest Olympiam voco." Boccaccio conceived this Eclogue
in a wood, and therefore he calls himself Silvio. The Eclogue roughly
is as follows : Boccaccio in a sleepless and restless night full of unhappy
regrets longs for the day. Suddenly a light illumines all and he hears a
singing. It is the voice of Violante (Olympia), who salutes her father.
"Fear not," she says, "I am thy daughter. Why should you be afraid?
Canst thou doubt ? Dost thou think that Violante would deceive her father ?
I come to thee to sweeten thy sorrow." To her Boccaccio (Silvio) answers:
"I recognise thee, love does not deceive me nor my dreams; O my great
delight, only hope of thy father. What god has taken thee from me, O my
little daughter ? They told me when I returned to Naples thou wert dead,
and believing this, how long, how long I wept for thee, how long, how long I
mourned thee, calling thee back to me. But what splendour surrounds thee ;

A WOODCUT FROM THE " DECAMERON." (VENICE, l6o2.) TITLE TO DAY V

(By the courtesy of Messrs. J. <5r= /. Leighton.)

»372] LOVE OF CHILDREN 215

understanding the real simplicity of his nature have been
content to think of him as a mere teller of doubtful
stories, is one of the most natural and beautiful traits in
his character. The little Eletta, "my delight," appears
like a ray of sunshine in a lonely and even gloomy old
age, which we may think perhaps, had Violante lived,
might have been less bitter, less hard to bear than it
proved to be. Nor is this by any means the only glimpse
he gives us of his interest in children. Apart from the
neglected portraits of the Decameron, we find him refer-
ring to them, their health and upbringing, in the Com-
mentary on the Divine Comedy, when he speaks of the
danger they are in from careless or neglectful nurses, who
put them to rest or sleep in the light and thus hurt their
eyes and induce them to squint ; and yet he can believe,
though probably with less than the common conviction,
that a squint is the sign of an evil nature dangerous
alike to the afflicted person and to those whom he may
encounter.

The letter to Petrarch, however, does not end with
Eletta. Boccaccio proceeds to speak of Tullia and her
husband Francesco, who presently returned to Venice,
and finding him there would have made him his guest,

who are thy companions ? O marvel, that in such a little space of time you
should have grown so, for you seem, little daughter mine, to be already
marriageable." And Violante answers: "It was but my earthly vesture
that, dear, you buried in the lap of earth. These vestments, this form, this
resplendent body the Madonna herself has given me. But look on my
companions, have you never seen them ? " And Boccaccio : "I do not
remember them, but neither Narcissus, nor Daphnis, nor Alexis were more
beautiful." And Violante: "And dost thou not recognise thy Mario, thy
Giulio, and my sweet sisters? They are thy children." And Boccaccio:
"Come, O children mine, whom I have held in my arms, on my breast, and
with glad kisses heal my heart. Let us make a ]oyiw\fes(a, and intone a
hymn of joy. Let the wood be silent, and let Arno run noiselessly." Then
follows a hymn sung by Violante in honour of Jesus Christ (Codro) and of
the Blessed Virgin : the most beautiful of all Boccaccio's Latin songs. And
Violante departs promising, when her father will hardly let her go, that he
shall soon be with her for ever in heaven.

We see here that Boccaccio had two sons, Giulio and Mario, and at least
three daughters, Violante and her sisters.

216 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO Ch-

anel when he refused insisted on his daily presence at his
table. Nor was this all, for Boccaccio tells us that on the
eve of his departure, Francesco, knowing him to be very
short of money, managed to get him into a quiet corner,
and putting his strong hand on the feeble arm of his
guest, would not let him depart till he had given him
succour, rushing away before he could thank him. "Know-
ing me to be poor," Boccaccio writes, " on my departure
from Venice, the hour being already late, he led me into a
corner (in secessu domus me traxit) and in a few words,
his great hands on my feeble arm (manibus illis giganteis
suis in brachiolum meum injectis), forced me in spite of my
embarrassment to accept his great liberality and then
escaped, saying good-bye as he went, leaving me to blame
myself. May God render it him again ! "

It is perhaps in that letter we see Boccaccio better than
in any other of his writings ; the greatest man then in
Italy playing with a little child, obliged in his poverty to
accept assistance from one who was almost a stranger. It
was on the 30th June that Boccaccio wrote that letter to
Petrarch from Florence, so that he would seem to have
arrived home about midsummer.

In the following year we catch sight of him again in the
service of the Republic, first, as one of the Camarlinghi,1
later, on an embassy to the Pope, who had set out for

1 Cf. Crescini, op. cit.y p. 259. I give the document he quotes: —

"Camarlinghi — Marzo-Aprile 1367-68— Quaderno no. 183 — Uscita di
condotta.

"[30 Aprile]

" Domino Iohanni Boccaccij ] civibus florentinis extractis secundum or-
MariottosimonisorlandiniBarne I dinamentaComunis flor. inconducteriosetad
valorini et Bindo domini Iacobi I offitium conducte stipendiariorum Comunis
de Bardis ) Flor. pro tempore et termino quatuor men-

sium inceptorum die primo mensis novembris proximi preteriti, pro eorum et
cuiuslibet eorum salario quatuor mensium predictorum, initiatorum ut supra,
ad rationem libarum vigintiquatuor fl. parv. pro quolibet eorum, vigore ex-
tractionis facte de eis, scripte per ser Petrum ser Grifi notarium, scribam
reformationum consilii et populi Comunis flor . . . etc. etc. {solita formula)
in summum, inter omnes, ad rationem predictam . . . libras Nonaginta sex
fl. parv."

T37^] EMBASSY TO ROME 217

Italy in April, and had entered Rome in October,
1367.1

In 1365 Urban had been besieged in Avignon by
Duguesclin on his way to Spain, and had had to pay an
enormous ransom as well as to absolve his enemy and his
followers from all censures. This mishap, coupled with
the invitation of the Romans, the passionate exhortations
of Peter of Aragon, the eloquent appeal of Petrarch, and
the urgent call of Albornoz, seems to have induced the
Pope to undertake this adventure, which he had always
looked forward to. He sailed, in spite of the opposition
of the King of France, for Corneto, and at last came
safely to Viterbo, which he entered in state on June 9,
1367, "with such grace and exultation that it seemed the
very stones would cry, ' Blessed is he who cometh in the
name of the Lord.'"2 In Viterbo the Pope began to
arrange a league against the Visconti, but he was already
having trouble with Siena, and on August 20 the great
Albornoz died. In September, too, a French tumult
broke out in the city, and though Florence, Siena, and
even Rome sent aid, Urban was besieged for three days,
and was doubtless very glad to set out under the escort

1 The embassy of 1365 was not the last Boccaccio was engaged in. It is
generally said that he went again to the Pope in November, 1367. Mazzuc-
chelli, Gli Scrittori o? Italia, p. 1326, n. 77, quoted by Hortis, G. B.
Anibasciatore, p. 18, note 3, says: "Ai detta imbasciata del Boccaccio ad
Urbano V fatto nel 1367 si conserva notizia nell' Archivio de Monte, Com-
une di Firenze, che con gentilezza ci e stata communicata con Lettera del
Signor Manni. Quivi si vede come i detti due ambasciatori prima di partirsi
prestarmo agli 1 1 di Novembre di quello anno il giuramento di esercitare con
buona fede la detta imbasciata alia presenza di Paolo Accoramboni da Gubbio
esecutore in Firenze degli ordini di Giustizia." But Boccaccio could not
have gone to see the Pope in Avignon in November, 1367, for the Pontiff
set out for Italy on April 30, as we have seen. In December, 1368, as we
shall see, Pope Urban in Rome wrote to the Signoria di Firenze in praise of
Boccaccio. It seems certain, then, that Boccaccio went on embassy to Rome
in November, 1368.

2 Cf. E. G. Gardner, S. Catherine of Siena (Dent, 1908), p. 63 et sea.
I cannot refrain from recommending this excellent study of the fourteenth
century in Italy to all students of the period. It is by far the best attempt
yet made to understand the mystical religion of the period in Italy summed
up by S. Catherine of Siena.

218 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO U

of the Marquis of Ferrara on October 14 for Rome. Two
days later he entered the City in triumph riding on a
white mule ; he was received with " universal joy and
acclamation."

In the spring of 1368 the Emperor, in accordance with
his long unfulfilled promise to the league, came into Italy
with an army to bridle the Visconti. The Papal forces and
those of Giovanna of Naples joined his, but achieved
nothing. Then the Emperor came into Tuscany. The
rising of the Salimbeni followed in Siena, and the Emperor
passed through Siena on his way to Viterbo. On October 21
he entered Rome leading the Pope's mule on foot.

It seems to have been at this moment that the Floren-
tines thought well to send an embassy to Urban and to
choose Boccaccio once more as their ambassador. All
we know about the affair is, however, that on December 1,
1368, Urban wrote to the Signoria of Florence that he
understood from their ambassador Giovanni Boccaccio
that they desired to assist him in reforming the affairs of
Italy, and that Boccaccio, whom he praises, bears his reply
viva voce}

The truth of the matter was that all Italy was uneasy.
The advent of the Emperor had ruined the peace of
Tuscany, Lombardy was ablaze with war, the Papacy was
divided against itself. The French party — five French
cardinals had altogether refused to leave Avignon — now
ceased urging the Pope to return. Helpless and dis-

1 Cf. Canestrini, in Archivio Stor. Ital.^ Ser. I, App. VII, p. 430, under
date Deci, 1368.

" Urbanus Episcopus, Servus Servorum Dei, Dilectis filiis Prioribus Artium
et Vexillifero Iustitie, ac Comuni Civitatis Florentie, salutem et apostolicam
benedictionem.

" Dilectum filium Iohannem Boccatii, ambassatorem vestrum, contempla-
tione mittentium, ac suarum virtutum intuitu, benigne recepimus ; et ex-
posita prudenter Nobis per eum pro parte vestra, audivimus diligenter ; ac
sibi ilia que, secundum Deum et pro nostro et publico bono, ad quod preser-
tim in Italie partibus, auctore Domino, reformandum et augendum, plenis
anhelamus affectibus, convenire credidimus, duximus respondendum ; prout
ipse oretenus vos poterit informare. Datum Rome, apud Sanctum Petrum,
Kalendis decembris, Pontificatus nostri anno sexto."

VISIT TO NAPLES 219

illusioned, Urban was at the mercy of the circumstances
in which he found himself, and a year later he in fact
abandoned Italy again, setting out for Avignon in Sep-
tember, and dying there in December, 1369.

It has been said that in 1368 Boccaccio went to Padua
to see Petrarch.1 But this seems extremely unlikely, for
quite apart from the fact that his growing infirmities made
such a journey difficult, as we have seen in the previous
year, the circumstances of the time made such a journey
almost impossible. Even Petrarch, a born traveller, a
man who delighted in journeying, found it extremely
difficult to make his way from Milan in July of that year,
where he had been present at the marriage of Lionel,
Duke of Clarence, to Violante, Duke Galeazzo Visconti's
daughter, to Padua. " He chartered a boat," we read,
" coaxed a half-frightened company of boatmen to work
her, with no weapons to defend himself, and sailed down
the Po. The adventure had an astonishing success.
Through the river-fleets and between the manned squad-
rons of both armies sailed this invalid old man of a per-
fect courage, and the officers of both hosts vied with one
another in doing him honour. His voyage was a triumphal
progress. . . ." But Boccaccio was not the world-famed
Petrarch.

What does seem certain is that in 1370 he went to
Naples, where he remained till 1371. This journey south-
ward seems to have been undertaken at the invitation of
a certain Abbate Niccolo di Montefalcone, who, probably
during a sojourn in Tuscany, having borrowed his Tacitus
of Boccaccio, invited the poet to visit him in his convent,
the Certosa di S. Stefano, in Calabria.2

1 See Zardo, II Petrarca e i Carraresi (Milano, 1867), cap. ii. p. 41 et seq.
To this year Signor Zardo would refer the letter of Boccaccio to Petrarch Ut
te videretn, in which he describes his visit to Venice, where he saw Tullia
and Francesco. If Boccaccio was in Padua in 1368, we have no evidence
for it.

■ Cf. the letter to Niccolo di Montefalcone in Corazzini, op. cit., p. 257
/ seq.

220 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1363-

He set out from Certaldo much charmed by the affec-
tion which the Abbate had professed for him, and delighted
at the prospect of visiting his convent, with its shady-
woods and tranquil country-side watered by limpid
streams ; a place rich in books and in peace. But he
had not reached his destination before he learned that the
Abbate had left Calabria, as he suspected on purpose to
avoid him. He was compelled to turn aside in the winter
rains and to take refuge in Naples. There, justly angry
at the treatment he, a poor and old man, famous too, and
the friend of Petrarch, had received at the hands of a
rascal, he wrote the wretched monk a letter which, that pos-
terity may add its indignation to his, has happily come
down to us. In that letter, so full of just resentment,
Boccaccio accuses this blackguard of being a liar and a
hypocrite. It is in fact impossible to excuse this un-
worthy but too common son of the Church from the
accusations of Boccaccio. He must have known that the
poet was old and infirm and very poor, yet apparently to
amuse himself he put him to the great expense of energy
and money which such a journey entailed.1 In Florence

1 Boccaccio does not forget to ask him for the return of his Tacitus, and
thus shows us that he possessed the works of this historian, which he not
seldom quotes in the De Genealogiis Deortim. Cf. Hortis, Studi, pp. 424-6,
and Paget Toynbee, Boccaccio's Commentary on the Divine Comedy in
Modem Language Review (Cambridge, 1907), Vol. II, No. 2, p. 119. Boc-
caccio was certainly acquainted with the twelfth to the sixteenth books of the
Annals and the second and third books of the Histories. How did he come
into possession of this treasure ? Hortis {loc. cit. ) suggests that he found
the MS. when he paid his famous visit (when we do not know) to the Badia
of Monte Cassino. It is Benvenuto da Imola, Boccaccio's disciple, who tells us
of this visit. '* My reverend master Boccaccio," he says in his Commentary
on the Divine Comedy, Paradiso, xxii. 74, "told me that, being once in the
neighbourhood of Monte Cassino, he paid the monastery a visit and asked if
he might see the library. Whereupon one of the monks, pointing to a stair-
case, said gruffly, 'Go up; it is open.' Boccaccio went up and saw to his
astonishment that the library, the storehouse of the monastic treasures, had
neither door nor fastening ; and on entering in he found grass growing on the
windows and all the books and benches buried in dust. When he came to
turn over the books, some of which were very rare and of great value, he
discovered that many of them had been mutilated and defaced by having
leaves torn out or the margins cut — a discovery which greatly distressed him.
In answer to his enquiries as to how this damage had been caused, he was

1372] VISIT TO NAPLES 221

it was said Boccaccio had gone to make him a
monk.

That letter to the Abbate bears the date of xiii. Kal.
Feb. and was written in Naples. The year is indi-
cated by the fact that Boccaccio speaks there of the
death of Urban V and the election of his successor,
Gregory XI.1 It seems certain then that in January, 1371,
Boccaccio was in Naples.2 There he was befriended by
Conte Ugo di S. Severino, who as soon as he heard of his
arrival and his poverty came to salute him and to offer to
maintain him during his stay, and on his departure pre-
sented him with gifts " more worthy of the giver than the
receiver."

While he was in Naples he also met a friar minor, by
name Ubertino di Corigliano, who had been sent by
Frederic of Sicily to conclude peace with Queen Giovanna.
He was a professor of theology, a learned man and good
talker. Boccaccio spoke with him of the revival of learn-
ing. " God," he says, " has been moved to compassion for
the Italian name. . . . For in our days great men have
descended from heaven, unless I am mistaken, gifted with
great souls, who have brought back poetry from exile to

told that it was the work of some of the monks themselves. These vandals,
desirous of making a little money, were in the habit of tearing out leaves from
some of the MSS. and of cutting the margins off others, for the purpose of
converting them into psalters and breviaries which they afterwards sold " (see
Paget Toynbee, Danle Studies and Researches (Methuen, 1902), p. 233 et
seq. Boccaccio does not seem to have shown his MS. to Petrarch, who
nowhere quotes Tacitus or shows us that he knows him.

1 Urban died 19th December, and Gregory was elected on the 30th
December, 1370.

2 Boccaccio also speaks of his journey elsewhere. In a letter to Jacopo da
Pizzinghe (Corazzini, op. cit., p. 189) he says: "Incertus Neapolialiquamdium
fueram vere proeterito : hinc enim plurimo desiderio trahebar redeundi in
patriam, quam autumno nuper elapso indignans liqueram." In another to
Niccolo degli Orsini, he says: "Laboriosam magis quam longam, anno
praeterito perigrinationem intraverim, et casu Neapolim delatus sim, ibi
proeter opinatum amicos mihi ignotos comperi, a quibus frenatoe domestical
indignationis mese impetu, ut starem subsidia proestitere omnia." Cf. Hortis,
Studi, u.s., p. 285 note. Hortis is of opinion that the word casu indicates
the change of route necessitated by the falsity of Niccolo da Montefalcone. On
the dates of these and other letters, see Hortis, u.s. I find myself
absolutely in agreement with him.

222 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1363-72

her ancient throne."1 Who were these men but Dante,
" worthy to be named before all," and his master Petrarch.
He does not add himself, as he well might.2

He seems to have left Naples in the autumn of 1371
and to have returned to Certaldo, where we find him in
1372, for he writes thence to Piero di Monteforte a letter
dated " Nonis Aprilis." 3 From that quiet retreat, save to
go to Florence, where indeed he had yet to hold the most
honourable post of his whole life, he did not stir again,
during the few years that remained to him.

1 See letter to Niccol6 degli Orsini (Corazzini, op. cit., p. 317).

2 Corazzini, op. cit., p. 327.

3 Cf. Corazzini, op. cit., p. 337. We have four letters which Boccaccio
wrote during these years: that to Matteo d'Ambrosio, dated " iv Idus
Maias," which Hortis {op. cit., p. 285) argues belongs to 1371 ; that to
Orsini, which the same critic gives to June, 1371 ; that to Jacopo da Pizzinghe,
which he gives to the summer of the same year ; and that to Piero di Monte-
forte, dated from Certaldo "Nonis Aprilis," which he gives to 1372. Bal-
delli, followed by Witte {op. cit., p. xl), thinks the letter to Matteo d'Am-
brosio belongs to 1373, and thus argues that Boccaccio was twice in Naples :
in the winter of 1 370-1, and again in the autumn of 1372 to May, 1373. But
Hortis shows it is impossible that the letter to Ambrosio is of May, 1373, since
on 19 March, 1373, Boccaccio was in Certaldo when the Bishop Angelo
Acciaiuoli committed to him an office — " confidens quam plurimum de fidei
puritate providi viri D. Joannis Boccaccii de Certaldo Civis et Clerici Floren-
tine" Cf. Mann 1, 1st. del Decameron, p. 35, and Hortis, op. cit., pp. 208,
n. 1, and 284, n. 3.

CHAPTER XV

PETRARCH AND BOCCACCIO — THE LATIN WORKS

THOSE ten years from 1363 to 1372 had not
only been given by Boccaccio to the study of
Greek and the service of his country, they had
also been devoted to a vast and general accu-
mulation of learning such as was possessed by only one
other man of his time, his master and friend Petrarch. It
might seem that ever since Boccaccio had met Petrarch
he had come under his influence, and in intellectual
matters, at any rate, had been very largely swayed by
him. In accordance with the unfortunate doctrine of his
master, we see him, after 1355, giving up all work in the
vulgar, and setting all his energy on work in the Latin
tongue, in the study of antiquity and the acquirement of
knowledge. From a creative writer of splendid genius he
gradually became a scholar of vast reading but of mediocre
achievement. He seems to have read without ceasing the
works of antiquity, annotating as he read. His learning,
such as it was, became prodigious, immense, and, in a
sense, universal, and little by little he seems to have
gathered his notes into the volumes we know as De Mon-
tibus, Sylvis, Fontibus, Lacubus, Fluminibus, Stagnis seu
Paludibusy De Nominibus Maris Liber, a sort of dictionary
of Geography;1 the De Casibus Virorum Illustrium, in

1 On all these works cf. Hortis, Studi sulle opere Latine di G. B.
(Trieste, 1879), and on the De Montibus see also Hortis, Accent alle Scienze
Naiurali nelle opere di G. U. (Trieste, 1877).

223

224 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

nine books, which deals with the vanity of human affairs
from Adam to Petrarch ;l the De Claris Mulieribus, which
he dedicated to Acciaiuoli's sister, and which begins with
Eve and comes down to Giovanna, Queen of Naples ;2
and the De Genealogiis Deorum, in fifteen books, dedi-
cated to Ugo, King of Cyprus and Jerusalem, who had
begged him to write this work, which is a marvellous
cyclopaedia of learning concerning mythology3 and a
defence of poetry and poets.4 In all these works it must
be admitted that we see Boccaccio as Petrarch's disciple,
a pupil who lagged very far behind his master.

As a creative artist, as the author, to name only the
best, of the Fiammetta and the Decameron, Boccaccio is
the master of a world Petrarch could not enter ; he takes
his place with Dante and Chaucer and Shakespeare, and
indeed save Dante no other writer in the Italian tongue
can be compared with him.

It is seldom, however, that a great creative artist is also
a great scholar, for the very energy and virility and rest-
less impatience which have in some sort enabled him
to create living men and women prevent him in his work
as a student, as an historian pure and simple, in short, as
a scholar. So it was with Boccaccio. The author of the
Latin works is not only inferior to the author of the Fiam-
metta and the Decameron, he is the follower and somewhat
disappointing pupil of Petrarch, who contrives to show us
at every step his inferiority to his master, his feebler sense
of proportion, of philosophy, of the reality of history, above
all his feebler judgment. The consideration of these works
then would seem to demand of us the consideration of his

1 Cf. Hauvette, Recherches sur le Casibus, etc. (Paris, rcjoi).

2 Cf. Hortis, Le Donne famose discritte da G. B. (Trieste, 1877).

3 Cf. F. N. Scott, " De Genealog." of Boccaccio and Sidney's "Arcadia"
in Modern Language Notes (Baltimore, 189 1), VI, fasc. 4, and Toynb'ek,
The Bibliography of B.'s "A Genealogia Deorum" in Athenceum, No.

3733-

4 Cf. Mussafia, // Libro XV delta Genealogia Deowm, in Antol. delta
Critic. Mod. of Morandi (Citta di Castello, 1885), p. 334 et sea.

PETRARCH AND BOCCACCIO DISCUSSING
From a miniature in the French version of the " De Casibus Virorunt" made in /jog
by Laurent le Premierfa.it. MS. late XV century. (Brit. Mus. Showcase V, MS. 126.)

PETRARCH AND BOCCACCIO 225

relations with Petrarch, and it will be convenient at this
point to undertake it as briefly as possible.

Even in his youth Boccaccio had regarded Petrarch
with an enthusiasm and an unenvying modesty that, last-
ing as it did his whole life long, ripening as it did into
one of the greatest friendships in the history of Letters,
was perhaps the most beautiful trait in his character. It
always seemed to him an unmerited grace that one who
was sought out by princes and popes, whose fame filled
:he universe, should care to be his friend, and this wonder,
:his admiration, remained with him till death ; he never
vrites Petrarch's name without, in his enthusiasm, adding
:o it some flattering epithet. He calls him his " illustrious
md sublime master," his " father and lord," " a poet who
s rather of the company of the ancients than of this
nodern world," " a man descended from heaven to re-
tore to Poetry her throne," the " marvel and glory "
>f his time.1 He had known and loved his work, as he
ays, for forty years or more,2 but he had never dared to
pproach him, though opportunities had not been alto-
gether lacking,3 till Petrarch came to Florence in the
utumn of 1350 on his way to win the indulgence of the
ubilee in Rome.4 This was the beginning of that friend-
hip5 which is almost without precedent or imitation in
he history of literature. In the following spring, as we
ave seen, Boccaccio, in the name of Florence, went to
'adua to recall Petrarch from exile, to offer him a chair in
he new university of his native city, and to restore him
he goods confiscated from his father. In Padua he had

1 Cf. De Genealog. Deorum, XIV, io, n, 19 ; XV, 4, 6. Letter to Niccol6
-gli Orsini in Corazzini, op. cit., p. 317; Comento sopra Dante, cap. i. ;
id cf. Petrarch, Senil., I, 4.

2 Cf. the letter to Petrarch's son-in-law (Corazzini, op. cit., p. 382).

3 As we have seen, Petrarch had been in Naples in 1341, and was there
jain in 1343. See supra, pp. 60 and III.

4 See supra, p. 152 et sea.

5 Cf. Epistol. Fam., XXI, 15. Petrarch's first letter to Boccaccio is Fam.,
I, 1, of November 2, 1350. See supra, p. 156.

226 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

been Petrarch's guest for some days ; he was a witness (
Petrarch's enthusiasm for " sacred studies," but apparentl
was not personally much interested in them, though r
calls them sacred, for he employed himself with no le<
enthusiasm in copying some of Petrarch's works ; b
which I at least understand some of his poems in tr
vulgar. The evenings were spent in the garden, talkin;
on Boccaccio's part of politics, on Petrarch's, as we ma
suppose, of learning, often till dawn.1

Boccaccio did not see Petrarch again for eight year
till in 1359 he visited him in Milan, and in that year sei
him the Divine Comedy, which he had had copied for hin
four years later, after his " conversion," his hysterical ac
venture with the messenger of the Blessed Pietro, he wei
to meet his master in Venice for the last time,2 as
proved, for in 1367 he missed him, Petrarch being then i
Pavia.3 In all these meetings it is Boccaccio who seel-
out Petrarch ; his visits are never returned. It is indee
almost touching to see with what ardour and with wh<
abnegation Boccaccio cultivates this friendship which Wc
in fact his greatest pride. He makes Petrarch present
poor as he is ; he sends him the Divine Comedy, S. Augu:
tine's Commentary on the Psalms, and with his own han
copies for him a book of extracts from Cicero and Varrc
We do not hear of Petrarch giving him anything in retur
It is true he lent him the MS. of Homer and another <
Plato, but he borrowed the translation of the former mac
at Boccaccio's expense in order to have it copied ft
his library. It is ill, however, reckoning up benefit
Petrarch was not small-minded, as the noble letter i
which he offers to buy his friend's library proves, h
procured for him the offer of the office of Apostol

1 Cf. supra, p. 160. 2 Cf. siipra, p. 203. 3 Cf. supra, p. 212.

4 Epist. Fatn., XVIII, 4. He also copied Terence with his own han
lest copyists should mutilate the text. The MS. exists in the Laurenti;
Library. Cf. Novati in Giornalc St. della Lett. It., X, p. 424. T
thought of comparing ancient MSS. to form a text was Boccaccio's.

PETRARCH AND BOCCACCIO 227

Secretary, which Boccaccio had the strength and indepen-
lence to refuse, and in his will left him, since he knew him
o be poor, a cloak to keep him warm on winter nights in
lis study. If we find his praise of Boccaccio's work,
specially of the Decameron, a little cold and lacking in
pontaneity — in fact he admits he has not read the
lecamerony but only "run through it"1 — we must re-
lember his absurd and pedantic contempt for work in
le vulgar which came upon him in his middle life, so
lat he was at last really incapable of judging and was in
ict hostile to Italian literature,2 and would have de-
:royed if he could all his own work in that kind.

1 See Sent/., XVII, 3, under date " In the Enganean Hills, June 8 [1374]."
itrarch there says : ' ' The book you have composed in our maternal tongue,
obably during your youth, has fallen into my hands, I do not know by what
ance. I have seen it, but if I should say I had read it I should lie. The
)rk is very long, and it is written for the vulgar, that is to say in prose.
:sides, I have been overwhelmed with occupations, and I have had only
ry little time, for as you know, one was then at the mercy of all the troubles

the war, and although I was not interested in them, I could not be insensible
the troubles of the republic. I have, then, run through this volume like a
rried traveller who just looks but does not stop. ... I have had much
;asure in turning its leaves. Certain passages, a little free, are excused by

age at which you wrote it — the style, the idiom, the lightness of the sub-
t and of the readers you had in view. It is essential to know for whom
e is writing, and the difference in the characters of people justifies a differ-
:e in style. Besides a crowd of things light and pleasant, I have found
:re others both edifying and serious ; but not having read the complete
rk, I cannot give you a definite judgment on it." We shall consider this
:er again later in my chapter on the Decameron (see infra, p. 311).

2 As for Petrarch's contempt for Italian, see Sent/. , V, 2. Petrarch there
rs to Boccaccio, that Donato degli Albanzani " tells me that in your youth
1 were singularly pleased to write in the vulgar, and that you spent much
.e on it." He adds that Boccaccio had then composed the same kind of
rk as he himself had done, apparently referring to the Rime. He seems
refuse to consider the prose works in the vulgar as being literature at all.
if probable even that the accusation that he disliked and envied Dante,
n which he so warmly defends him (cf. Fam., XXI, 15), had this much
:h, that he disliked the language of the Divine Comedy in his absurd
rship of Latin. But though he could not see it, the Divine Comedy
the first work of the Renaissance just because it is written not in
:in, the language of the Church, but in Italian, the language of the
pie. There lay the destruction of the Middle Age and the tyranny of the
:lesiastic. For with the rise of the vulgar rose Nationalism, which, with
invention of printing, eventually destroyed the real power of the Church,
vas a question of knowledge, of education, of the power of development

. life.

228 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

Boccaccio, on the other hand, was always eager o
Petrarch's behalf and in his defence. He composed a
Elogium1 on him and his poetry, in which he defended hii
from certain reproaches which had been brought again:
him, and when, as it is said in 1372, a French cardin;
attacked his venerated master in the presence of the Poj
and denied him the title of " Phcenix of Poets " that wr
ordinarily given him, Boccaccio replied with an apolog
in his favour.2 Nor was this all, for it was mainly t
Boccaccio's efforts that that very disappointing poei
the Africa was preserved to us ; and indeed, such was h
delight in Petrarch, that he arranged in order in a boc
the letters he had received from him, for he thought hin
self assured of immortality rather by them than by h
own works.3

It is indeed strange and lovely to come upon Boccaccic
extraordinary modesty : the greatest prose-writer in tl
Italian language, the greatest story-teller in the worl
considered himself of no account at all beside the pedant
lover of Laura, the author of the Africa which he had n
seen. The very thought of comparing himself
Petrarch seemed to him a crime. He considered hi
not altogether of this world ; he dwelt, according to
friend, in a superior region ; and as for his work,
writings, his style, they are marvellous and ornate, abo
ing in sublime thoughts and exquisite expressions, for 1
only wrote after long reflection, and he drew his though
from the depths of his spirit.4 And when Petran
honoured him with the title of Poet, he declined it ;5 r
ideal was " to follow very modestly the footsteps of h
Silvanus."

" The illustrious Francesco Petrarca," he writes

1 See De vita et moribus domini Francisci Petrarchce de Floren
secundum Iohannem Bochacii de Certa/do, in Rossetti, Petrarca, etc., \
316-99.

2 Cf. Semi , XV, 8, written in 1373. 3 Cf. Corazzini, op. cil, p. 1:
4 Cf. the Epilogue to the De Montibus. 5 Cf. Fam.t XVIII, 15.

d n<

PETRARCH AND BOCCACCIO 229

mother place,1 " neglecting the precepts of certain writers

,vho scarcely attain to the threshold of poetry, began to

ake the way of antiquity with so much force of character,

vith such enthusiasm and perspicacity, that no obstacle

vould arrest him, nor could ridicule turn him from his

vay. Far from that, breaking through and tearing away

he brambles and bushes with which by the negligence

►f men the road was covered, and remaking a solid road

>f the rocks heaped up and made impassable by inunda-

ions, he opened a passage for himself and for those who

rould come after him. Then, cleansing the fountain of

lelicon from slime and rushes, he restored to the waters

leir first chastity and sweetness. He opened the fount

f Castalia, hidden by wild branches, and cleared the grove

* laurels of thorns. Having established Apollo on his

irone, and restored to the Muses, disfigured by neglect

rid rusticity, their ancient beauty, he climbed the highest

immits of Parnassus. And having been crowned with

leafy garland by Daphne, he showed himself to the

oman people, with the applause of the Senate, a thing

lich had not been seen perhaps for more than a thousand

jars. He forced the gates of the ancient Capitol, creak-

g on their rusty hinges, and to the great joy of the

omans he made their annals famous by an unaccustomed

iumph. O glorious spectacle ! O unforgettable act !

his man by his prodigious effort, by his work everywhere

mous, as though he commanded through the universe

e trumpet of Fame, sounded the name of Poetry, brought

.ck again by him from darkness into light. He re-

/akened in all generous spirits a hope almost lost till

en, and he made it to be seen — what most of us had

it believed — that Parnassus was still to be won, that her

mmit was still to be dared. . . ."

The enthusiasm, the unselfishness of that ! But he
es not stop there. Petrarch is as admirable morally as
is as an artist or as a scholar.

1 In the letter to Jacopo Pizzinghe in Corazzini, op. cit., p. 189.

230 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

"Petrarch," he tells us,1 "living from his youth up a
a celibate, had such a horror of the impurities of th
excess of love that for those who know him he is the bee
example of honesty. A mortal enemy of liars, he detest
all vices. For he is a venerable sanctuary of trutl
and honours and joys in virtue, the model of Catholi
holiness. Pious, gentle, and full of devotion, he is s
modest that one might name him a second Parthenfc
[i.e. Virgil]. He is too the glory of the poetic art. A
agreeable and eloquent orator, philosophy has for hii
no secrets. His spirit is of a superhuman perspicacity
his mind is tenacious and full of all knowledge that ma
may have. It is for this reason that his writings, both i
prose and in verse, numerous as they are, shine £
brilliantly, breathe so much charm, are adorned with <
many flowers, enclosing in their words so sweet a ha
mony, and in their thoughts an essence so marvelloi
that one believes them the work of a divine genius rath(
than the work of a man. In short he is assuredly moi
than a man and far surpasses human powers. I am n(
singing the praises of some ancient, long since dead. C
the contrary, I am speaking of the merits of a living ma
... If you do not believe these words, you can go an
see him with your eyes. I do not fear that it will happe
to him as to so many famous men, as Claudius say
1 Their presence diminishes their reputation.' Rather
affirm boldly that he surpasses his reputation. He
distinguished by such dignity of character, by an eloquent
so charming, by an urbanity and old age so well ordere
that one can say of him what Seneca said of Socrate
that 'one learns more from his manners than from h
discourse.' "

In this enormous praise, in this humility, Petrarch do<
not seem to have seen anything extraordinary ; in fact 1
seems to have taken it as the most natural thing in tl

1 De Genealog. Deorum, XIV, 19.

PETRARCH AND BOCCACCIO 231

world. We gather that he considered it was to have much
regard for Boccaccio to let him hope for some little glory
after him.1 And we may suspect that he found in him a
friend after his own heart. He showed his gratitude by
addressing a number of letters to him and by leaving him
in his Will fifty florins of gold to buy a mantle to protect
him against the cold during the long and studious nights
of winter.2 Boccaccio was ill when he heard of that bene-
faction and the death of his beloved master. The letter
he then wrote in praise of the dead, his hand -trembling
with emotion and weakness, his eyes full of tears, is
perhaps the most beautiful, if not the most touching,
document of their friendship.3

And then, as we have already seen, the love of Boccaccio
for his master, his solicitude for his memory, did not cease
with Petrarch's death. His first thought was for the
Africa of which his master had made, in imitation of
Virgil perhaps, so great a mystery, and, as it was said, had
wished to burn it. Though he was as ignorant as others
of its contents, believing as he did in Petrarch, he was
altogether convinced that it was a great and marvellous
poem, worthy of Homer and full of a divine inspiration.4
While some said Petrarch had left instructions to burn it,
others declared that he had appointed a commission to
decide whether it should live or die. Boccaccio does not
seem to have thought that he himself would necessarily
have been on any such commission ; but immediately
addressed a supplication in verse to the tribunal, which
he feared would be composed of lawyers, demanding in
the name of the Muses, of kings, of peoples, of cities that
this masterpiece should not be allowed to perish.

So Boccaccio loved Petrarch. And that Petrarch was

1 Cf. Fam., XVIII, 4.

2 Cf. Petrarch's will in Fracassetti, op. cit., Vol. Ill, p. 542.

3 Cf. Corazzini, op. cit., p. 377. We shall return to this later. See
infra, p. 282 et seq.

4 Cf. Elogium di Fetrarca, I.e., pp. 319, 324.

232 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

good for him, as we might say, who can doubt after reading
that noble letter on the vision of the Blessed Pietro ? But
that Boccaccio was intellectually altogether at his mercy
unhappily we cannot doubt either after reading his Latin
works. He follows Petrarch so far as he can, but nearly
always blindly, exaggerating the predilections or prejudices
of his master even in little things. In all his works in
Latin he makes no allusion to his works in the vulgar :
Petrarch often mentions his, but always with an affected
disdain. Yet Boccaccio was by no means destitute of a
passion for literary glory. He desired it as eagerly as
Petrarch, but more modestly; and following the precept of
his master to the letter, he does not believe he can attain
to it by any other means than by classical studies. Like
his master too, he regretted the writings of his youth, and
would have destroyed them if they had not been spread
through all Italy and well out of his reach. In all these
things Boccaccio is but the follower of Petrarch, and
nothing can be more to the point than to compare them,
not indeed as artists, but as students, as scholars, as
philosophers.

And here let us admit, to begin with, that as a student,
as a man of culture, in a sense of the reality of history and
in a due sense of the proportion of things, Petrarch is as
much Boccaccio's superior as Boccaccio is Petrarch's as a
creative artist. For Petrarch antiquity was a practical
school of life. Convinced of the superiority of his spirit, he
possessed himself of what he read and assimilated what he
wanted.1 Boccaccio, on the other hand, remained entirely
outside, and can claim no merit as a scholar but that of
industry. As a student he is a mere compiler. His con-
tinual ambition is to extend his knowledge, but Petrarch
dreams only of making his more profound. He too in
reading the ancients has collected an incalculable number
of extracts, but after putting them in order from various

1 See VoiGT, Pctrarque^ Boccacce et ks debuts de humanisme, cap. ii. (Par
1894).

PETRARCH AND BOCCACCIO 233

points of view he has only begun ; he proceeds to draw
from them his own works.

Nor is Petrarch deceived in his own superiority. He
was by far the most cultured man of his time ; as a critic
he had already for himself disposed of the much-abused
claims of the Church and the Empire. For instance, with
what assurance he recognises as pure invention, with what
certainty he annihilates with his criticism the privileges
the Austrians claimed to hold from Caesar and Nero.1
And even face to face with antiquity he is not afraid ; he
is sure of the integrity of his mind ; he analyses and
weighs, yes, already in a just balance, the opinions of
the writers of antiquity ; while Boccaccio mixes up in the
most extraordinary way the various antiquities of all
sorts of epochs. Nor has Boccaccio the courage of his
opinions ; all seems to him worthy of faith, of acceptance.
He cannot, even in an elementary way, discern the false
from the true ; and even when he seems on the point of
doing so he has not the courage to express himself. When
he reads in Vincent de Beauvais that the Franks came
from Franc the son of Hector, he does not accept it
altogether, it is true, but, on the other hand, he dare not
deny it, " because nothing is impossible to the omnipotence
of God."2 He accepts the gods and heroes of antiquity ;
the characters in Homer and the writers of Greece, of
Rome, are equally real, equally authentic, equally worthy
of faith, and we might add equally unintelligible. They
are as wonderful, as delightful, as impossible to judge as
the saints. What they do or say he accepts with the same
credulity as that with which he accepted the visions of
Blessed Pietro. Petrarch only had to look Blessed Pietro
in the eye, and he shrivelled up into lies and absurdities.
But to dispose of a charlatan and a rascal of one's own day
is comparatively easy : the true superiority of Petrarch is

1 Ep. Sen. , XV, 5. Letter to Charles IV.

2 Cf. De Genealogy VI, 24. Cf. Voigt, op. cit., p. 167.

234 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

shown when he is face to face with the realities of antiquity
— when, for instance, venerating Cicero as he did, he does
not hesitate to blame him on a question of morals. But
Boccaccio speaks of Cicero as though he scarcely knew
him;1 he praises him as though he were a mere abstrac-
tion, calls him "a divine spirit," a." luminous star whose
light still waxes."2 He does not know him. He goes to
him for certain details because Petrarch has told him to
do so.

The truth seems to be that as soon as Boccaccio was
separated from life he became a nonentity. If this is not
so, how are we to explain the fact that he who was utterly
incapable of criticism, of any sense of difference or propor-
tion in regard to the ancients, could appreciate Petrarch so
exquisitely, not only as a writer, where he is often at sea,
but as a man ? He has a philosophy of life, but he cannot
apply it to antiquity because he cannot realise antiquity.
Nor does he perceive that Petrarch is continually opposing
the philosophy of life to the philosophy of the schools.
It is true he defends Petrarch against the more obvious
absurdities of scholastic philosophy ; but, like his oppo-
nents, philosophy for him is nothing but the trick, we
cannot say the art, of reasoning, of dialectic.3 While
Petrarch with an immense and admirable courage bravely
dares to attack the tyranny of Aristotle in the world of
thought, he remains for Boccaccio " the most worthy
authority in all things of importance."4 And so, for
example, when Aristotle affirms that the founders of
religion were the poets, Boccaccio does not hesitate to
oppose this theory to the theologians of his time.5 Where
in fact Petrarch shows himself really superior to the vulgar
prejudices of his time his disciple cannot follow him. For

1 Comento sopra Dante, ed. cit. , cap. iv. p. 249.

2 Cf. De Casibus Virorum, pp. 59, 66, 67.

3 Cf. Vita di Dante, ed. cit. , p. 56.

4 Cf. Vita di Dante, ed. cit. , p. 40.

5 Cf. Voigt, op. cit., p. 168.

s N

a
|

■i iiji

THE LATIN WORKS 235

instance, in regard to astrology : Boccaccio attributed an
immense importance to it, but Petrarch never misses a
chance of ridiculing it even in his letters to Boccaccio.1
Nevertheless Boccaccio remains persuaded that the art of
astrology combines in itself much truth, and at any rate
rests on a solid basis. If it sometimes deceives us, we
must seek the cause in the greatness of the heavens, so
difficult to explore, and in the imperfect knowledge we
have of the movements and conjunctions of the planets.2

In all these things and in many others Boccaccio is little
more than Petrarch's disciple, following him without dis-
crimination, more violent in his abuse, more extreme in
his advocacy of those things or professions or ideas or
people whom his master had come to consider bad or
good, reasonable or unreasonable. And it is in the Latin
works that we find him most a disciple, really obeying
orders that he has by no means understood, compiling
with an immense and heroic labour a vast collection of
facts or supposed facts which have no relation to one
another, and reformed and revivified by no composing or
commanding idea, are for the most part just a heap of
dead and grotesque extravagances that for us at least can
have no meaning.

Let me confess it at once : after labouring with an
immense weariness through the whole of these works
in Latin, I have found but one complete work and
two fragments which seem to have been written with any
personal conviction : the Eclogues, parts of the De Montibus,
and the fourteenth book of the De Genealogiis Deorum.
The rest are vast compilations, made, one cannot say with-
out enthusiasm, for nothing but an immense enthusiasm
could have carried him through such a labour, but without
any unifying idea, without personal conviction or art or

1 Cf. Sent/., Ill, 1 ; VIII, 1, 8.

2 Cf. Vita di Dante , ed. at., p. 55 ; Content o, ed. cit., cap. i. pp. 5, 7 ;
and cf. Hortis, Acceni alle Scienze, etc., p. 14.

236 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

delight. They are the notebooks of an omnivorous but
indiscreet and undiscerning reader.1

The earliest among them, as we may think,2 the De
Claris Mulieribus^ constitutes as it were the transition
from the writings full of imagination and life in the vulgar
tongue to the works of erudition. Its chief purpose
would seem to be rather to entertain and to amuse women
than to write history or biography, and though now and
then a more serious idea might seem to discover itself,
it remains for the most part a wretched and awkward
piece of work, in which virtue and vice are dealt with and
distinguished, if at all, to hide the droll pleasantries which
are intended to divert the reader. In this Boccaccio was
successful, and the book had a great vogue in spite of its
absurdity.3

The idea of the work was, as he confesses in the proem
suggested to him by Petrarch's De Viris Illustribus. Ordered
chronologically, beginning with Eve, much space is given
to women of antiquity — Greek, Roman, and Barbarian,
little to Jewesses and Christians, saints and martyrs,
because, says Boccaccio, " I wish to spare them the
neighbourhood of Pagans." He has little to say either, of
the women of his own and the preceding age. He men-
tions, however, Pope Joan, the virtuous Gualdrada,4 the
Empress Constance, mother of Frederic II, and Queen
Giovanna of Naples, whom he praises for her personality
and character as one of the most remarkable women of his
time.

But it is in dealing with the more modern characters

1 The best study and the fullest of these Latin works is that of Hortis,
Sludi sulle opere Latine di Giovanni Boccacci0 (Trieste, 1879). It runs to
some 950 quarto pages. I do not propose here to give more than a sketch of
these Latin works of Boccaccio.

* It was apparently finished about 1362. Cf. Hortis, Studi, p. 89, n. 2,
and p. 164.

3 Cf. F. Villani (ed. Galletti), Liber de civitatis Florentice famosis civibus
ex codice Mediceo Laurentiano nunc primum editus (Firenze, 1847), p. 17.

4 Cf. Comento, ed. cit.y cap. xii. Vol. II, p. 334.

THE LATIN WORKS 237

that he dates his work for us. We find there the same
contempt for, the same aversion from women in general as
we have already come upon in the Corbaccio and the Vita
di Dante. It is possible that his contempt in some sort
excuses, or at least explains, the wretchedness of this
work. For if it was written for women, we know that he
considered that culture and learning were not only useless
to women, but even harmful, since they helped them to
evil. And he himself tells us with the most amazing humour
or effrontery that he has composed this work " less with a
view to general usefulness than for the greater honour of
the sex,"1 yet, as we shall see, he abuses women roundly
on almost every possible occasion, and introduces a tale
like that of Paolina, which would not be out of place
in the Decameron.

" Paolina, the Roman lady," says Boccaccio, " lived in the
reign of Tiberius Caesar, and above all the ladies of her
time she was famous for the beauty of her body and the
loveliness of her face, and, married as she was, she was
reputed the especial mirror of modesty. She cared for
nothing else, she studied no other thing, save to please her
husband and to worship and reverence Anubis, god of
the Egyptians, for whom she had so much devotion, that
in everything she did she hoped to merit his grace whom
she so much venerated. But, as we know, wherever there
is a beautiful woman there are young men who would be her
lovers, and especially if she be reputed chaste and honest,
so here a young Roman fell in love beyond hope of re-
demption with the beautiful Paolina. His name was
Mundo, he was very rich, and of the noblest family in
Rome. He followed her with his eyes, and with much

1 Cf. the dedication to "Mulieri clariss. Andrese Acciauolis," which
begins: " Pridie, mulierum egregia, paululum ab inerti vulgo semotus, et a
caeteris fere solutus curis, in eximiam mulieribus sexus laudem, et amicorum
solatium, potius quam in magnum reipublicse commodum, libellum scripsi."
This dedicatory letter appears in all the editions, and is printed too by
Corazzini, op. cit., p. 231.

238 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

amorous and humble service as lovers are wont to do, and
with prayers too, and with promises and presents, but he
found her not to be won, for that she, modest and pure as
she was, placed all her affection in her husband, and
considered all those words and promises as nothing but
air. Mundo, seeing all this, almost hopeless at last, turned
all his thoughts to wickedness and fraud.

" It seems that Paolina used to visit almost every day
the Temple of Isis, where, with continual oblations and
sacred offerings, she worshipped and honoured the god
Anubis with the greatest devotion ; which, when the young
man knew of it, love showed him a way, and he thought and
imagined in his heart an unheard-of evil. Telling himself
then that the priests and ministers of Anubis would be
able to assist and favour his desires, he went to them, and
after many prayers and many rich gifts opened to them
the matter. And it happened as he wished. For when
Paolina next came to the temple the most venerable high
priest himself, in a quiet and humble voice, told her that
the god Anubis had appeared to him in the night and had
bidden him say to her that he, Anubis himself, was well
pleased and delighted with her devotion, and that in that
temple where she worshipped him he would, for her good
and repose of heart, speak with her in the darkness of
night. Now when Paolina heard this from so venerable a
priest, judging that this had come to her though her
devotion and holiness, she rejoiced without measure at the
words, and returning home told all to her husband, who,
like a fool, believing all to be true, consented that she
should spend the following night in the temple. And so
it befell at nightfall Paolina came to the preordained
place, and after solemn ceremonies and holy prayers
alone she entered the rich bed to await Anubis, the god of
her devotion. And when she had fallen asleep, came,
introduced by the priests, Mundo, covered with the vest-
ments and ornaments of Anubis and full of the most

THE LATIN WORKS 239

ardent desire ; then with a soft voice, taking her in his
arms, he awakened her.1 And Mundo, in the voice of
Anubis, seeing her afraid and confused at first waking,
bade her be of good heart, saying that he was Anubis whom
she had for so long venerated and worshipped, and that he
was come from heaven because of her prayers and devo-
tions that he might lie with her, and of her have a son a
god like to himself. Which, when Paolina heard, before all
else, she asked if it were the custom of the supernal powers
to mix themselves with mortals ; to whom Mundo
answered, even so, and gave the example of Jove, who had
descended from heaven and passed through the roof where
Danae lay, into her lap, from which intercourse Perseus,
now in heaven, was born. And hearing this Paolina most
joyfully consented. Then Mundo, all naked, entered into
the bed of Anubis, and so won the desired embraces and
kisses and pleasures ; and when it was dawn he left her,
saying that she had that night conceived a son. And when
it was day Paolina arose, and, carried by the priests,
returned to her house, believing everything and recounting
all to her foolish husband, who received his wife joyfully
with the greatest honour, thinking that she would be
the mother of a god. Nor would either have doubted this
but for the want of caution on the part of the too ardent
Mundo. For it seemed to him that Paolina had returned
his embraces with the greatest readiness and delight,
and thinking therefore that he had conquered her modesty
and hoping to enjoy her again, he went to her one day in
the temple, and coming close to her whispered, ' Blessed art
thou who hast conceived of the god Anubis.' But the
result was quite other than he had expected. For stupefied
beyond measure, Paolina, bringing all things to her remem-
brance that had befallen on that night, understood the
fraud, and altogether broken-hearted told her husband,
opening all her thoughts ; and he went immediately in the

1 Cf. Boccaccio's own love story, supra, p. 51 ct scq.

24o GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

greatest sorrow and distress to Tiberius Caesar. And
Caesar ordered that all the priests should be slain with
grievous torments, and that Mundo should be sent into
exile ; and as for the simple and deceived Paolina, she
became the laughing-stock of the Roman people."

Such is one of the stories of the De Claris Mulieribus.
But though it be one of the best tales there, and indeed we
may compare it with a famous story in the Decameron} it
is by no means characteristic of the whole book, which has
its more serious side, for Boccaccio uses his facts, his
supposed facts, often enough to admonish his contem-
poraries, and therefore to some extent the work may be said
to have had a moral purpose.

Yet after all, what chiefly interests us in an inferior piece
of work is the view of woman we find there. And
strangely enough, in this book so full of mere foolishness
and unhappy scolding we find a purer and more splendid
praise of woman than anywhere else in his work. " A
woman/' he tells us, " can remain pure in the midst of
corruptions and every horror and vice as a ray of sunlight
remains pure even when it falls on a filthy puddle." Yes,
they can do so, and that he admits it, is at least something,
but if we may judge from this book it was by no means
his opinion that commonly they do. For he is always
pointing in scorn at the women of his time. He tells of
the death of Seneca's wife, who killed herself that she
might not survive her husband, in order that he may
preach to the widows of his day, who do not hesitate,
we learn, to remarry, " not twice nor thrice, but five or six
times." Again, he tells the story of Dido more according
to the legends that had grown up around it than according
to the ALneid, in order that it may be an example " above
all among Christians " to those widows who take a third or
fourth husband.2 Having been betrayed by a widow, he is
as personally suspicious of and vindictive against them as
the elder Mr. Weller.

1 Decameron, IV, 2. 2 Cap. 87.

THE LATIN WORKS 241

Nor is he sparing in his abuse of women in general.
They can only keep a secret of which they are ignorant, he
tells us. And like many men who have lived disorderly,
he puts an extraordinary, a false, value on chastity. For
after recommending all parents to bring up their daughters
chastely, which is sane and right, he bids women guard
their chastity even to the death, adding that they should
prefer a certain death to an uncertain dishonour.1 And
after giving more than one example to bear this out, he
cites the women of the Cimbri, who, when their husbands
fled, besought the Romans to let them enter the house of
the Vestals, and when this was denied them killed them-
selves after murdering their children. Nor does he ever
cease to deplore the luxury and coquetry of women, blaming
the Roman Senate when, in honour of Volumnia, mother
of Coriolanus, who had saved the Republic, it allowed
matrons to wear earrings. For luxury, says he, is the ruin
of women, and so of men also, for the world belongs to
men, but men to women.

Again and again he returns to the attitude he assumed
in the Decameron? but without its gaiety. Man is the
more perfect and the firmer and stronger : how then can
a woman do else but yield to her lover? If there are
exceptions it is because some women partake of the
nature of man, Sulpicia, for instance, who was, he says,
" rather a man than a woman," and indeed some women
have a man's soul in a woman's body. Nor does he
omit any sort or kind of temperament. He shows us
the courageous woman in Sofonisba, the voluptuous in
Cleopatra, the chaste in Gualdrada, the simple in Paolina,
the proud in Zenobia, the resigned in Costanza, the wise
in Proba, the intriguer in Poppea, the generous in Sem-
pronia.3 He writes three hundred lives, and in every one

1 Caps. 77, 71, 81. 2 Cf. Decameron, II, 9, and supra, p. 176 et sea.

3 Cf. Rodoconachi, Boccacce (Hachette, 1908), p. 163, and Hortis,
Sludi, p. 102 et sea.

242 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

we find the same sentiments of passionate interest, sus-
picion, distrust. If it were possible to gather from this
vast depository the type of woman Boccaccio himself
preferred, we should find, I think, that she was by no
means the intelligent, learned, energetic, independent, and
strong-willed woman that negatively, as it were, he praises,
for to him she would seem not a woman but a kind of
man. No, he remains to worship the beautiful, subtle,
credulous, and distracting creature that he had found in
that Fiammetta who had betrayed him, — in two minds
during a single heart's beat, cruel and sensual too, eager
to love and without responsibility, afraid of the dark, but
ready to do anything in things to her mind ; in fact, the
abused heroine of all his books. But while he adores her,
he makes fun of her, he scorns her, he curses her, he hates
her, yet in a moment she will be in his arms.

It was to one such he thought to dedicate this book of
Famous Ladies,1 to that Queen Giovanna of Naples, the
granddaughter of King Robert the Wise, who had been
the father of his own Fiammetta. But in the last chapter
of the book, which is a long panegyric in her honour,
he praises her not as a woman but as a great and powerful
king. We do not know, alas ! what he really thought
of her, for eager Guelf and Angevine as he always was, he
would be the last to tell us the truth, if it were evil, about
this unhappy lady, and here at least his work is so full
of praise that there is no room for judgment. If he had
once spoken evil of her 2 he has here made amends, but

1 So he says in the dedication to the wife of Andrea Acciaiuoli, but he
feared to do it. "Verum dum mecum animo versarem, cuinam primurn
ilium transmitterem, ne penes me marcesceret otio, et ut alieno fultus favore,
securior iret in publicum, adverteremque satis, non principi viro, sed potius
cum de mulieribus loqueritur, alicui insigni fceminae destinandum fore,
exquirenti dignorem, ante alias, venit in mentem, Italicum jubar illud
perfulgidum, ac singulare nomen non tantum fceminarum, sed regum gloria,
Iohanna serenissima Hierusalem et Siciliae regina," etc.

2 See supra, p. 121 et seq. Cf. Hortis, Le Donne famose descritte da
G. B. (Trieste, 1877).

THE LATIN WORKS 243

in such a way that we are in no way enlightened and
remain as always at the mercy of the chroniclers.1

If we needed any evidence other than the works them-
selves that these compilations in Latin worried and bored
Boccaccio, we should find it in the De Casibus Virorum^ vast
work in nine books, which was taken up and put aside in
disgust not less than three times, and at last only com-
pleted by the continual urgings of Petrarch, who, not
understanding the disgust of the creative artist for this
kind of book-making, was reduced to reply to the protests
of Boccaccio that "man was born for labour."2 The De
Casibus Virorum is certainly a more considerable work
than the De Claris Mulieribus, but it is without the occa-
sional liveliness of the earlier work, as we see it, for
instance, in the story of Paolina, and is in fact merely an
enormous compilation, as I have said, made directly under
the influence of Petrarch, who, in imitation of the ancients,
was always willing to discourse concerning the instability
of Fortune. It was a theme which suited his peculiar
genius, and in the De Viris Illustribus and the De Remediis
Utriusque Fortunes we see him at his best in this manner.3
But for Boccaccio such moralising became a mere drud-
gery, a mere heaping together of what he had read but not
digested. Eager to follow in Petrarch's footsteps, however,
he took up the same theme as the subject of an historical
work, in which he sets out to show the misfortunes of famous
men. Beginning with Adam and Eve — for he admits a few
women — he passes in review with an enormous languor
that makes the book one of the most wearying in all
literature the personages of fable and legend and his-

1 An English version of the De Claris Mulieribus was made by Henry
Parker, Lord Morley (1476-1556), but this has never been printed. It is
entitled "John Bocasse His Booke intitlede in the Latyne Tunge De Prae-
claris Mulieribus, that is to say in Englyshe, of the Ryghte Renoumyde
Ladyes." It was done about 1545 and was dedicated to King Henry VIII.
Extracts from it have appeared in Waldron's Literary Museum, 1792.

2 Cf. Proem to Lib. VIII.

3 Cf. Hauvette, Recherches sur le Casibus, etc. (Paris, 1901).

244 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

tory, treating all alike, down to his own time. Some-
times he is merely dull, sometimes absurd, sometimes
theatrical, but always lifeless in these accounts of the
tragic ends of " Famous Men " or of their fall from power.
He is never simple, nor does he take his work simply ; by
every trick he had used in his creative work he tries in
vain to give this book some sort of life. He sees his
characters in vision, then, in imitation of Petrarch, he
interrupts the narrative to preach, to set down tedious
moral sentiments — that bad habit of his old age — or
philosophical conclusions, or to lose himself in long
digressions upon a thousand and one subjects — on riches,
on fortune, on happiness, on rhetoric, on the lamentable
condition of Rome, on the sadness (acedia) of writers, of
which Petrarch had cured him, or again in defence of
poetry, never choosing a subject, however, that had not
been already treated by Petrarch, except it be woman,
whom he again attacks, more soberly perhaps, but infinitely
more tediously, warning us against her wiles in the manner
of a very minor prophet. As long as he is a mere his-
torian, a mere compiler, a mere scholar, he remains almost
unreadable, but as soon as he returns to life, to what he
has seen with his own eyes, even in this uncouth jargon,
this Church Latin, he becomes an artist, a man of letters,
and we find then without surprise that one of the last
episodes he recounts, the history of Filippa la Catanese
was, even in the seventeenth century, still read apparently
with the greatest delight, for very many editions were
published of this fragment of his book, of which I have
already spoken.1

1 Cf. supra, p. 117. The History of the Dukes of Athens too is excellent.
John Lydgate in some sort translated the work into English verse : his work is
entitled " Here begynnethe the Boke calledde John Bochas descrivinge the
falle of princis princessis and other nobles traslatid ito Englissh by John Lud-
gate moke of tlie monastery of Seint Edmundes Btiry at the comaiidemet of the
worthy pry nee Humfrey Duke of Gloucestre beginnynge at Adam and endinge
with Kinge John made prisoner in fraunee by prince Eduarde " (London,
Richard Pynson, 1494). For the story of Filippa la Catanese in English see

THE TORTURE OF REGULUS

.-/ woodcut front Lydgate's " Falles of Princes of John Bochas." (London, 14Q4.)

THE LATIN WORKS 245

Certainly the most original and probably the best of
Boccaccio's Latin works in prose is the De Genealogiis
Deorum, with which is generally printed the De Montibusy
Sylvis, etc. The first, however, is really but a mass of
facts and confused details quite undigested and set forth
without any unity, while the latter is an alphabetical
dictionary of ancient geography to assist those who read
the Latin poets.1 At the time these books appeared, how-
ever, such matters were a novelty, and we have in them
the first complete manual of an ancient science and
the first dictionary of geography of the modern world.
I say of the modern world, yet though we cannot but
admire their erudition and the patient research of the
author, these do not suffice to place these works really
above the meagre compilations of the Middle Age,2 yet
we find there perhaps a change of method which
makes them important. Both books are, however, full of
credulities, they altogether lack judgment and any system,
and can therefore scarcely be said to belong to humanism.

In the De Genealogiis Deorum Boccaccio gathers every
mythological story he can find, and would explain them
all by means of symbols and allegories, and in doing this
he very naturally provoked the fervent applause of his
contemporaries.3 But what renders the volume really
interesting and valuable to us is the eager and passionate
defence of poetry which forms its epilogue.

Boccaccio had always fought valiantly in defence of

,( Unhappy Prosperitie expressed in the Histories of Sejanus and Philippa
the Catanian written in French by P. Mathien and translated in English by
Sr Th: Hawkins" (printed for Io. Haviland for Godfrey Esmondson, 1632).

1 Cf. Hortis, Accenni alle scienze naturali nelle opere di G. B. (Trieste,
1877), P- tfetseq.

* Cf. Voigt, op cit., cap. ii.

3 Cf. Voigt, op. cit., cap. ii., and Schuck, Zur charakteristik der itai. Hu-
manist en des XI Vund XV J ahrh. (Breslau, 1857), andF. Villani,^. cit. (ed.
Galletti), p. 17. Rodocanachi, op. cit., p. 177 et seq., thinks he sees in the De
Genealogiis a progress beyond the knowledge and judgment of Boccaccio in
the Filocolo and the Amorosa Visione. It may well be so, but he has not con-
vinced me that it was anything to boast of.

246 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

"poetry," by which he understood the art of literature, and
the new learning, the knowledge of antiquity. This art,
for it was by no means yet a science, had many more
enemies than friends. To a great extent Petrarch refused
to meet these foes, considering them as beneath his
notice ; it was left for Boccaccio to defend not only letters,
but Petrarch and his Muse. To this defence he conse-
crates two whole books of the De Genealogiis Deorum, the
fourteenth and fifteenth, and there he takes under his
protection not only the poets of antiquity, but poetry in
general and his own occupation with mythology. He
pounds away with much success at the scholastic philoso-
phers and theologians, who had no idea that they were
already dead and damned, and while they declared poetry
to be a sheer tissue of fables he busily dug their graves or
heaped earth upon them. He left really nothing undone.
He attacked their morality, and where so much was an
absurdity of lies that was easy; but he appealed too to
S. Augustine and S. Jerome, which was dangerous j1 and
at last, somewhat embarrassed by certain Latin poets who
had proved to be too involved in their frivolity to defend,
he abandoned them to their fate, reluctantly, it is true, but
he abandoned them, and among these were Plautus, Ter-
ence, whom he had copied with his own hand, and Ovid,
who had been the companion of his youth. The men
whom Petrarch refused to touch lest he should soil his
hands had to be content with these.

In Boccaccio's definition of the poet, which owed very
much to Petrarch we may think, he comprehended the
philosopher, the mystic, the prophet — especially the
mystic ; for he is much concerned with allegory and
the hidden meaning of words. For him the work of the
poet, and truly, is with words, but with words only. He
must find new material if he can it is true, but, above all,
he must dress it in long-sought-out words and rhythms

Cf. De Genealogiis, XV, 9 ; Content o, cap. 1.

THE LATIN WORKS 247

that shall at once hide and display the real meaning.
He seems to leave nothing to the moment, to spontaneous
feeling. The true mistress of the poet does not enter into
his calculations ; yet there is more spontaneity in the
Decameron than in all Petrarch's work. Still he lays stress
on that truly Latin gift, the power to describe or contrive
a situation which will hold and excite men.

What he most strongly insists upon, however, is the
hidden meaning of the ancient poets. He declares that
only a fool can fail to see allegories in the works of
antiquity.1 One must be mad not to see, in the Bucolics,
the Georgics, and the JEneid of Virgil, allegories, though
we may not certainly read them.2 Is it not thus, he asks,
that Dante has hidden in the Comedy the mysteries of the
Catholic religion? Are there not allegories in the work
of his master Petrarch ? 3

He turns from Petrarch to Homer, whom he declares he
has always by him. He speaks of Pilatus, to whom he
says he owes much : " A little man but great in learning,
so deep in the study of great matters that emperors and
princes bore witness that none as learned as he had
appeared for many centuries." He closes the book with
an appeal to Ugo, King of Cyprus and Jerusalem, who
had begged him to write this work, which is a truly
marvellous cyclopaedia of learning and mythology, with
this defence of poetry and poets added to it in the two last
books, which are later than the rest.4

1 Cf. De Genealogiis, XIV, 7 : " Mera poesis est, quicquid sub velamento
componimus et exquisitur [? exprimitur] exquisite." Cf. also Comento, cap i.

2 De Genealogiis, XIV, 10.

3 Indeed in Laura he seems to have seen an allegory of Petrarch's desire
for the laurel. See Rossetti, Petrarca, etc., p. 323, Elogium: " Et quam-
vis in suis compluribus vulgaribus poematibus in quibus perlucide decantavit
se Laurettam quamdam ardentissime demonstravit amasse, non obstat ;
nam prout ipsemet et bene puto, Laurettam illam allegorice pro Laurem corona
quam post modum est adeptus, accipiendam existimo."

4 Cf. F. N. Scott, "De Genealogiis" of Boccaccio and Sidney's " Arcadia "
in Modern Language Notes (Baltimore, 1891), VI, fasc. 4, and Toynbee,
The Bibliography of B.'s A Genealogia Deorum in Athenaum, No. 3733, also

246 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

"poetry," by which he understood the art of literature, and
the new learning, the knowledge of antiquity. This art,
for it was by no means yet a science, had many more
enemies than friends. To a great extent Petrarch refused
to meet these foes, considering them as beneath his
notice ; it was left for Boccaccio to defend not only letters,
but Petrarch and his Muse. To this defence he conse-
crates two whole books of the De Genealogiis Deorum, the
fourteenth and fifteenth, and there he takes under his
protection not only the poets of antiquity, but poetry in
general and his own occupation with mythology. He
pounds away with much success at the scholastic philoso-
phers and theologians, who had no idea that they were
already dead and damned, and while they declared poetry
to be a sheer tissue of fables he busily dug their graves or
heaped earth upon them. He left really nothing undone.
He attacked their morality, and where so much was an
absurdity of lies that was easy ; but he appealed too to
S. Augustine and S. Jerome, which was dangerous -,1 and
at last, somewhat embarrassed by certain Latin poets who
had proved to be too involved in their frivolity to defend,
he abandoned them to their fate, reluctantly, it is true, but
he abandoned them, and among these were Plautus, Ter-
ence, whom he had copied with his own hand, and Ovid,
who had been the companion of his youth. The men
whom Petrarch refused to touch lest he should soil his
hands had to be content with these.

Cf. De Genealogiis, XV, 9 ; Comento, cap. 1.

THE LATIN WORKS 247

What he most strongly insists upon, however, is the
hidden meaning of the ancient poets. He declares that
only a fool can fail to see allegories in the works of
antiquity.1 One must be mad not to see, in the Bucolics,
the Georgics, and the ALneid of Virgil, allegories, though
we may not certainly read them.2 Is it not thus, he asks,
that Dante has hidden in the Comedy the mysteries of the
Catholic religion ? Are there not allegories in the work
of his master Petrarch ? 3

1 Cf. De Genealogiis, XIV, 7 : " Mera poesis est, quicquid sub velamento
componimus et exquisitur [? exprimitur] exquisite." Cf. also Comento, cap i.

2 De Genealogiis, XIV, 10.

4 Cf. F. N. Scott, "De Genealogiis''' of Boccaccio and Sidney's "Arcadia"
in Modern Language Notes (Baltimore, 1891), VI, fasc. 4, and Toynbee,
The Bibliography of B.'s A Genealogia Deorum in Athenaum, No. 3733, also

248 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

It is not, however, in the De Genealogiis but in the De
Montibus, Sylvis, Lacubus^ Fiuminibus, Stagnis sen Paludis,
de Nominibus Maris that we have the true type of these
works. They are all really dictionaries of learning and
legend, but it is only this that is actually in the form of
a dictionary, the various subjects being set forth and
described in alphabetical order.

The enormous popularity of these works in their day
is witnessed by the numerous editions through which
they passed both in Latin and Italian in Italy and abroad.
They were the textbooks of the early Renaissance, and
we owe Boccaccio, as one of the great leaders of that
movement, all the gratitude we can give him ; all the mon
that the work he began has been so fruitful that we can
scarcely tolerate the works that guided its first steps.

Mussafia, // Libro XV della Genealogia Deorum in Antol. della Critic.
Mod. of Morandi (Citta di Castello, 1885), p. 334 et seq. The work was
finished about 1366, for in Book XV he calls Bechino et Paolo il Geometra tc
witness as living. Paolo made his will in 1366 ; we know nothing of Bechinc
after 1361.

CHAPTER XVI

DANTE AND BOCCACCIO— THE VITA— AND THE
COMENTO

IN the summer of the year 1373 when Boccaccio was
sixty years old the Signoria of Florence was
petitioned by a number of citizens to appoint a
lecturer who should publicly expound "librum qui
vulgariter appellatur el Dante," the work which is com-
monly called " el Dante," the Divine Comedy, that is to say,
the work of one who little by little was coming to be
known as a very great poet, as a very great man, but who
more than seventy years before had been ignominiously
expelled from Florence and had died in exile.

The petition, a copy of which may still be found in the
Florentine Libro delle Provvisioni for 1373, is as follows: — x

1 Cf Milanesi. // Comento di G. B. sopra la Commedia di Dante (Firenze,
1863), in two volumes. This is the best edition of Boccaccio's Comento. The
redaction of the petition I borrow from Dr. Paget Toynbee's excellent
article already alluded to, on Boccaccio's Commentary on the Divina Commedia
in Modern Language Review (Cambridge, 1907), Vol. II, No. 2, pp. 97
et seq., to which I am much indebted. I give the Latin text of the petition
from Milanesi, u.s., Vol. I, p. 1 et seq.-. "Pro parte quamplurium
civium civitatis Florentie desiderantium tarn pro se ipsis, quam pro aliis
civibus aspirare desiderantibus ad virtutes, quam etiam pro eorum posteris
et descendentibus, instrui in libro Dantis, ex quo tam in fuga vitiorum,
quam in acquisitione virtutum, quam in ornatu eloquentie possunt etiam non
grammatici informari ; reverenter supplicatur vobis dominis Prioribus artium
et Vexillifero Justitie populi et comunis Florentie, quatenus dignemini oppor-
tune providere et facere solempniter reformari, quod vos possitis eligere
unum valentem et sapientem virum in huiusmodi poesie scientia bene doctum,
pro eo tempore quo velitis, non maiore unius anni, ad legendum librum
qui vulgariter appellatur el Dante in civitate Florentie, omnibus audire
volentibus, continuatis diebus non feriatis, et per continuatas lectiones, ut
in similibus fieri solet ; et cum eo salario quo voletis, non majore centum

249

250 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

" Whereas divers citizens of Florence, being minded as
well for themselves and others, their fellow-citizens, as for
their posterity, to follow after virtue, are desirous of being
instructed in the book of Dante, wherefrom, both to the
shunning of vice and to the acquisition of virtue, no less
than in the ornaments of eloquence, even the unlearned
may receive instruction ; The said citizens humbly pray
you, the worshipful Government of the People and
Commonwealth of Florence, that you be pleased, at a
fitting time, to provide and formally to determine, that
a worthy and learned man, well versed in the knowledge
of the poem aforesaid, shall be by you elected, for such
term as you may appoint, being not longer than one year,
to read the book which is commonly called el Dante in
the city of Florence, to all such as shall be desirous of
hearing him, on consecutive days, not being holidays,
and in consecutive lectures, as is customary in like cases ;
and with such salary as you may determine, not exceed-
ing the sum of one hundred gold florins for the said
year, and in such manner and under such conditions as
may seem proper to you ; and further that the said salary
be paid to the said lecturer from the funds of the
Commonwealth in two terminal payments, to wit, one
moiety about the end of the month of December, and the
other moiety about the end of the month of April, such
sum to be free of all deduction for taxes whatsoever. . . ."

The petition was favourably considered by the Signoria
on August 9, and was put to the vote of the assembly.
Two hundred and five persons voted in all, one hundred

florenorum auri pro anno predicto et cum modis, formis, articulis et tenoribus,
de quibus vobis videbitur convenire. Et quod camerarii Camere comunis
predicti . . . debeant dictum salarium dicto sic electo dare et solvere de
pecunia dicti Comunis in duobus terminis sive paghis, videlicet medie-
tatem circa finem mensis decembris, et reliquam medietatem circa finem
mensis aprilis, absque ulla retentione gabelle ; habita dumtaxat apodixa officii
dominorum Priorum ; et visa electione per vos facta de aliquo ad lecturam
predictam et absque aliqua alia probatione vel fide fienda de predictis vcl
aliquo predictorum vel solempnitate aliqua observanda."

DANTE AND BOCCACCIO 251

and eighty-six in its favour, and nineteen against it.1 The
voting was by ballot and secret, and no names have come
down to us, but it is perhaps permitted us to suppose, as
Mr. Toynbee suggests, that the opposition came from
those whose ancestors, whose fathers and grandfathers,
Dante had placed in Hell, or had otherwise insulted and
condemned. The decision come to on August 9 was
carried on the 25th, when the Signoria appointed "Dominus
Johannes de Certaldo, honorabilis civis Florentinus," to
lecture on the Divine Comedy2 for a year from the 18th

1 The record is preserved in the Libro delle Prowisioni, and is printed by
Milanesi, op. cit., Vol. I, p. ii : —

" Super qua quidem petitione . . . dicti domini Priores etVexellifer habita
invicem et una cum officio gonfaloneriorum Sotietatum populi et cum officio
Duodecim bonorum virorum Comunis Florentie deliberatione solempni, et
demum inter ipsos omnes in sufficienti numero congregates in palatio populi
Florentie, premisso et facto diligenti et secreto scruptineo et obtento partito
ad fabas nigras et albas per vigintiocto ex eis pro utilitate Comunis eiusdem
. . . deliberaverunt die Villi mensis augusti anno dominice Incarnationis
MCCCLXXIII indictione XI, quod dicta petitio et omnia et singula in ea
contenta, admictantur, . . . et observentur, . . . secundum petitionis eiusdem
continentiam et tenorem. . . .

' ' Item supradicto Preposito, modo et forma predictis proponente et partitum
faciente inter dictos omnes consiliarios dicti consilii in ipso consilio presentes,
quod cui placet et videtur suprascriptam quartam provisionem disponentem
pro eligendo unum ad legendum librum Dantis, que sic incipit : ' Pro parte
quamplurium civium etc' . . . admicti et observari . . . et executioni
mandari posse et debere . . . det fabam nigram pro tic; et quod cui
contrarium seu aliud videretur, det fabam pro non. Et ipsis fabis datis
recollectis, segregatis et numeratis . . . et ipsorum consiliariorum voluntatibus
exquisitis ad fabas nigras et albas, ut moris est, repertum fuit CLXXXVI ex
ipsis consiliariis repertis dedisse fabas nigras pro sic. Et sic secundum
formam provisionis eiusdem obtentum, firmatum et reformatum fuit, non
obstantibus reliquis XVIIII ex ipsis consiliariis repertis dedisse fabas albas in
contrarium pro w»."

It will be seen that they voted with beans — a white bean for "No," a
black bean for "Yes."

2 Cf. Milanesi, op. cit., u.s., Vol. I, p. iii, and Toynbee, op. cit., p. 99.
The record in the Libro delle Prowisioni ad annum 1373 has been destroyed
since 1604, when Filippo Valori (cf. Game a, Seriedei Testi di Lingua, ed.
quarta, p. 554, col. a, No. 2006), saw it. He says : " II qual Boccaccio, oltre
al dirsi Maestro dell' Eloquenza, fu stimato di tal dottrina, che e' potesse
dichiarare quella di Uante, e percio, 1' anno mille trecento settanta tre, lo elesse
la Citta per Lettor pubblico, con salario di cento fiorini, che fu notabile ;
e vedesi questo nel Libro delle Provvisioni." Cf. Manni, Istoria del De-
camerone, p. 10 1. The facts are, however, recorded in the Libro delP uscita
delta Camera, now in the Archivio di Stato di Firenze. Milanesi, ot>. cit.,

252 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

October at a salary of one hundred gold florins, half oi
which, as the petition had suggested, was paid to him on
December 31, 1373.1 And on Sunday, October 23, 1373,5
Boccaccio delivered his first lecture in S. Stefano della
Badia.3

In thus appointing Boccaccio to the first Cathedra
Dantesca that had anywhere been established, the Signoria
not only in some sort made official amends for the cruel
sentence by which the greatest son of Florence had been

p. iii, quotes this document: "1373, 31 Decembris. Domino Johanni
de Certaldo honorabili civi florentino electo per dominos Priores Artium et
Vexilliferum Justitie dicti populi et Comunis, die XXV mensis augusti
proxime preleriti ad legendum librum qui vulgariter appellatur il Dante,
in civitate Florentie, pro tempore et termino unius anni incepti die decimo
ottavo mensis ottubris proxime preteriti et cum salario centum florenorum
auri pro anno quolibet, solvendorum secundum formam reformationis
consilii dicti populi et Comunis de hac materia loquentis, pro ipsius
domini Johannis salario et paga primorum sex mensium dicti teinporis,
initiatis die decimo ottavo mensis ottubris proxime preteriti, pro dimidio
totius dicti salarii, vigore electionis de eo facte, in summa florenorum
quinquaginta auri."

1 Cf. Gerola, Alcuni documenti inediti per la biografia del Boccaccio
in C /ornate Stor. della Lett. Ital., Vol. XXXII (1898), p. 345 et sea.

'^ So GuiDO Monaldi tells us in his Diario (ed. Prato, 1835) : " Domenica
a di ventitre di ottobre comincio in Firenze a leggere il Dante M. Giovanni
Boccaccio."

:: Cf. Boll, di Soc. Dant. Ital., n.s., Ill, p. 38 note. Milanesi in his
Introduction to the Comento tells us, mistakenly, that Boccaccio lectured in
S. Stefano al Ponte Vecchio. This church, since the church of S. Cecilia was
destroyed in Piazza Signoria at the end of the eighteenth century, has been
called SS. Stefano e Cecilia, but from the thirteenth century till then it was
called S. Stefano ad poi-tamferram. That it was not here but at S. Stefano
della Badia that Boccaccio lectured we know from Monaldi's diary, and it is
confirmed for us by Benvenuto da Imola : " In interiori circulo est Abbatia
monachorum sancti Benedict!, cuius ecclesia dicitur Sanctus Stephanus, ubi
certius et ordinatius pulsabantur horae quam in aliqua alia ecclesia civitatis ;
quae tamen hodie est inordinata et neglecta, ut vidi, dum audirem venerabilem
prseceptorem meum Boccaccium de Certaldo legentem istum nobilem poetam
in dicta ecclesia" (Comentum (ed. Vernon), Vol. V, p. 145). Dr. Toynbee
thinks that S. Stefano is the ancient dedication of the Badia, which was later
placed under the protection of S. Mary. If this was so, then it was in the
Badia itself that Boccaccio lectured. Mr. Carmichael, however (On the
Old Road through France to Florence (Murray), p. 254), states that Boccaccio
lectured not in the abbey, but in the little church of S. Stefano ad Abbatiam,
formerly adjoining the abbey, and indeed almost a part of it. Unfortunately
he gives no authority for this important statement, nor can he now give
any. It is, however, a very interesting suggestion, worth examining
closely.

DANTE AND BOCCACCIO 253

proclaimed and exiled,1 but they also showed their good-
will by choosing for lecturer the man who above all others
was best fitted to expound his work and to defend his
memory.

As we have already seen, Boccaccio had been an eager
student of Dante in the first years of his literary life.2 It
is probable that he was first introduced to Dante's work by
Cino da Pistoja, whom he seems to have met in Naples
between October, 1330, and July, 1331,3 and in his first
book, the Filocolo, he imitates and speaks of him ;4 in the
Filostrato he copies him so closely that in fact he quotes
from him;5 in the Rime he not only, to a large extent,

1 It will be remembered that Dante was not only expelled from Florence,
but condemned by the Florentines to be burned alive, "igne comburatur sic
quod moriatur," should he be taken. This sentence bears date March 10, 1302.

2 See supra, p. 20. 3 De Blasiis, op. cit., p. 139 et seq.

4 Filocolo, ed. cit., II, p. 377. Cf. Dobelli, 77 culto del Boccaccio per
Dante in Giomale Dantesca (1897), Vol. V, p. 207 et seq. Signor Dobelli
seems to me to lay far too much emphasis on the sheer imitations of
Boccaccio. Now and then we find a mere copying, but not often. This
learned article of Dobelli's is traversed, and I think very happily, by a
writer in the Giomale Stor. delta Lett. Pa/., XXXII (1898), p. 219 et seq.

5 For instance, in the opening of the third part, Filostrato, ed. cit.,
Pt. Ill, p. 80, which may be compared with Paradiso, I, vv. 13 et seq.

Fulvida luce, il raggio della quale O buono Apollo' all, ultimo lavoro

Infino a questo loco m' ha guidato, Fammi del tuo valor si fatto vaso,

Com' io volea per 1' amorose sale ; Come dimandi a dar 1' amato alloro.

Or convien che '1 tuo lume duplicato Insino a qui 1' un giogo di Parnaso
Guidi 1' ingegno mio, e faccil tale, Assai mi fu, ma or con ambedue

Che in particella alcuna dichiarato M' e uopo entrar nell' aringo rimaso.

Per me appaia il ben del dolce regno ......

D' Amor, del qual fu fatto Troilo

degno. O divina virtu, se mi ti presti

Filostrato. Tanto, che 1' ombra del beato regno
Segnata nel mio capo io manifesti
Venir vedra 'mi al tuo diletto legno
E coronarmi allor di quelle foglie
Che la materia e tu mi farai degno.

Paradiso.

Or, again, compare Filostrato, Pt. VIII, p. 249, with Purgatorio, VI,
vv. 118 et seq.

E se licito m' e, o sommo Giove
O sommo Giove . . . Che fosti in terra per noi crucifisso

Son li giusti occhi tuoi rivolti altrove?

Purgatorio.
Son li giusti occhi tuoi rivolti altrove ?
Filostrato.

254 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

models his work on the sonnets of Dante, but he appeals to
him and mentions his name more than once, in one case,
in the sonnet already quoted addressed to Dante in
Paradise after the death of Fiammetta, certainly before
the Vita was written or the lectures begun.

" Dante, if thou within the sphere of love,
As I believe, remain'st contemplating
Beautiful Beatrice whom thou didst sing
Erewhile ..."

while the Corbaccio is in some sort modelled on the
allegory of the Divine Comedy} This was in 1355, and
immediately after the completion of the Corbaccio we find
him at work, about 1356-7, on the Vita di Dante? About
this time too he seems to have begun to copy the Divine
Comedy3 with, his own hand in order to send it to Petrarch,
and we may understand perhaps how great a pioneer he
was in the appreciation of Dante when from that fact we
learn that Petrarch had no copy in his library. With this
MS. in his own hand he sent a Carme to Petrarch of forty
lines written in Latin in praise of Dante,4 and before 1359

Or, again, compare Filostrato, Pt. II, p. 58, with Inferno, II, vv. 127
et sea.

Quali i fioretti dal notturno gelo Quali i fioretti dal notturno gelo

Chinati e chiusi, poi che '1 sol gl' Chinati e chiusi, poi che '1 sol gl'

imbianca imbianca

Tutti s' apron diritti in lono stelo ; Si drizzan tutti aperti in loro stelo ;

Cotal si fe' di sua virtude stanca Tal mi fee' io di mia virtute stanca :
Troilo allora. . . . Inferno.

Filostrato.

Nor are these by any means the only instances ; there are very many
others. I content myself, however, with a comparison between Filostrato,
Pt. VII, p. 238, and the Convito, Trattato IX, which would seem to show
that before 1345 Boccaccio knew this work as well as the Comedy,

E gentilezza dovunque e virtute. E gentilezza dovunque virtute.

Filostrato. Convito.

1 See supra, p. 183, n. 1.

2 For date of composition see supra, p. 183, n. 2.

3 He seems to have copied too the Vita Nuova. Barbi in his edition of
the Vita Nuova, p. xiv et sea., speaks of Boccaccio's MSS. relating to Dante,
and notes in a MS. Laurcnziano (xc, sup. 136), " scripto per lo modo che
lo scripse Messere Giovanni Boccaccio da Certaldo."

4 The Carme is given by Corazzini, op. cit., p. 53.

DANTE AND BOCCACCIO 255

he evidently wrote to Petrarch excusing himself for his
enthusiastic praise of Dante. That letter is unfortunately
lost, but happily we have Petrarch's answer, in which he
most unsuccessfully tries to excuse himself for his cold-
ness towards the Divine Comedy, and indeed attempts to
set the charge aside.

"In your letter," he writes in 1359,1 "there are many
things that need no answer, for instance those of which
we have lately spoken face to face. But there are two
besides, which I have singled out, and these I do not wish
to pass over in silence. . . . Firstly, then, you excuse
yourself with some eagerness for having been so prodigal
in your praise of our countryman, a poet for the people
assuredly as to his style,2 yet undoubtedly noble if one
consider the subject of which he writes. But you seek
to justify yourself as though I might see in your praise of
him or another a stain on my own reputation. You say
too that all the praise you give him — if I look at it
closely — turns to my glory. And you excuse too your-
self by saying that in your youth he was the first guide,
the first light in your studies. Well, then, you are acting
with justice, with gratitude, in not forgetting him, and in
short, with piety. If we owe everything to those who
have given us life, if we owe much to those who have
enriched us, what do we not owe to those who have
nurtured and formed our spirits ? Those who have culti-
vated our souls have indeed greater titles to our remem-
brance than those who have cared for our bodies. . . .
Courage, then ; I not only permit you, I invite you to

1 Fam.% XXI, 15.

2 Here we see Petrarch's absurd hatred of the vulgar tongue. How a man
so intelligent and so far in advance of his age in all else could deceive himself so
easily as to believe that Latin in his day could be anything but a tongue for
priests to bark in is difficult to understand. Apart from the Liturgy and the
Divine Office and a few hymns and religious works maybe, no work of art
has been produced in it. Had Petrarch been an ecclesiastic, it might be
comprehensible ; but he was the first man of the modern world. No doubt
he was dreaming of the Empire.

256 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

celebrate and to honour this torch of your mind who has
given you of his heat and of his light in this path along
which you pass towards a glorious goal. It has been long
blown upon and, so to say, wearied by the windy applause
of the vulgar, and I bid you elevate it then even to the
heaven by true praises worthy of him and of yourself.
Such will be pleasing to me, because he is worthy of this
commendation and, as you say, it is for you a duty. I
approve then your commendatory verses,1 and in my turn
I crown with praise the poet you commend.

But in your letter of excuse the only thing that has
really hurt me is to see how little you know me even now ;
yet I thought you at least knew me altogether. What is
this ? You think I should not rejoice, that I should not
even glory in the praise of illustrious men ? But believe
me, nothing is stranger to my character than envy, nothing
is more unknown. . . ."

Perhaps Petrarch protests too much. Yet one may well
think that, noble as he was, he was at least above envying
Dante Alighieri, for he knew very little about him, and
sincerely thought him of small account since his greatest
work was written not in Latin, the tongue as he so wonder-
fully thought absolutely necessary to immortality, but in
the sweeter and lovelier " Florentine idiom," the " glory " of
which, as Boccaccio had already said in the Vita, Dante
had revealed.

Thus all his life long we see Boccaccio as the enthusi-
astic lover and defender of the greatest of Italian poets,
gently protesting against Petrarch's neglect of him, passion-
ately protesting against the treatment " Florence, noblest
among all the cities of Italy," had measured out to him,
fiercely contemptuous of " those witless ones," priests and
the scholastics, who considered his works to be " vain and
silly fables or marvels," and could not perceive that " they
have concealed within them the sweetest fruits of his-

1 ? The Carme.

DANTE AND BOCCACCIO 257

torical or philosophical truth." Indeed, alone among his
contemporaries he values the Divine Comedy at its true
worth and for the right reasons. Nor in fact should we
know half we do know concerning Dante — much more that
is than we know of Chaucer and Shakespeare, for instance
— if Boccaccio had not loved him and shared, as he says,
" the general debt to his honour " in so far as he could, " that
is to say in letters, poor though they be for so great a task.
But hereof I have, hereof I will give ; lest foreign peoples
should have power to say that his fatherland had been alike
unthankful to so great a poet, whether taken generally or
man by man."

It has become the fashion of late, and yet maybe it was
always so, to sneer at, to doubt and to find fault with
Boccaccio's Vita di Dante x in season and out of season on

1 It must be observed that the Vita appears in many forms, but it will be
enough for us to consider the two principal, both of which claim to be by
Boccaccio. The whole question is thoroughly dealt with by Macri Leone in
his edition of the Vita (Firenze, 1888), and more briefly by Witte, The two
versions of Boccaccio's life of Dante in Essays on Dante (London, 1898), p.
262 et sea., and by Dr. E. Moore, Dante and his early Biographers
(London, 1890).

Of these two versions the longer we shall call the Vita, the shorter the
Compendio, but the latter is by no means a mere epitome of the former, for
some of the episodes are more fully treated in it, while others are ignored. We
shall find ourselves in agreement with the great majority of modern critics if we
regard the Vita as the original and the Compendio as a modification of it
executed either by Boccaccio or by another, and if we assert that the Vita is
by Boccaccio and the Compendio an unauthorised redraft of it, we shall be
supported not only by so great an authority as Macri Leone, but by Biscioni,
Pelli, Tiraboschi, Gamba, Baldelli, Foscolo, Paur, Witte (who hesitates to
condemn the Compendio altogether), Scartazzini, Koerting, and Dr. Moore.
On the other hand, Dionisi and Mussi held that the Compendio was the
original and the Vita a rifacimento ; while Schaeffer-Boichorst thought both
to be the work of Boccaccio, the Vita being the original ; and the editors
of the Paduan edition of the Divine Comedy (1822) thought both to be
genuine, but the Compendio the first draft. Dr. Witte enters into the
differences between the two, printing passages in parallel columns ; Macri
Leone is even fuller in his comparison ; Dr. Moore also compares them.
Briefly we may say that the Compendio is shorter, that it "hedges" when it
can and softens and abbreviates the denunciation of Florence, and omits much :
e.g. the Vitds assertion of Dante's devotion to Virgil, Horace, Ovid, and Statius,
while inserting certain personal suggestions : e.g. that in his later years Dante
having quite recovered from his love for Beatrice ran after other women
especially in his exile in Lucca, where he became enamoured of a young girl
called Pargoletta, and in the Casentino of another who "had a pretty face but

258

GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

all possible points, and on some that are impossible
Scholars of Dante generally, with some eminent exceptions,
seem to consider it a kind of impertinence in the author of
the Decameron to have interested himself in Dante.

Mr. Wicksteed, for instance, to whom we owe a charming
translation of the Vita1 — so charming and so full of
Boccaccio's own flavour that in all modesty I have taken
leave to use it when I must — though he is himself its
translator, finds it necessary not so much to commend it to
us as to give us " some needful warnings " and " further
cautions" in introducing us to it. He nowhere, I think,
tells us how very valuable it is, nor instructs us why above
all other works of the kind it is valuable to us. He
nowhere takes the trouble to tell his readers that Boccaccio

was afflicted with a goitre." As for Pargoletta, it is not a proper name at all,
as Boccaccio knew, for in the same chapter of the Vita he writes : "in sua
pargoletta eta." He was incapable of falling into this error, which apparently
arose from a confusion of Purgatorio, XXIV, 34-6, and XXXI, 59. In the
Compendio the attacks on marriage are not less bitter, only whereas in the
Vita they are only against marriage in general, in the Compendio we get an
amusing description of the hindrances to Dante's studies caused by his wife's
complaints of his solitary habits and her absurd interruptions of his medita-
tions by asking him to pay nurse's wages and see to children's clothes. The
Compendio too in all matters concerning Dante's contemporaries is more vague.
Thus the Vita (possibly wrongly) tells us that in Verona Dante took refuge
with Alberto della Scala ; the Compendio, more cautious, says with the
" Signore della terra." It also omits the stories concerning Dante at Siena and
Paris, and entirely remodels the digressions in chapters ix. and x. of the Vita on
Poetry. It omits the extremely characteristic excuse for lechery of the Vita and
omits all dates : e.g. that Dante began the Vita Nuova in his twenty-sixth year,
as well as the assertion that he was in his later years ashamed of it. There are
many other differences also. But it might seem impossible in the face of the
evidence brought forward by Macri Leone and others to doubt that the Vita is
Boccaccio's work and not the Co?Jipendio. We shall therefore here leave the
latter and devote ourselves to the former, only remarking that if Boccaccio
wrote the Vita it is improbable that he wrote another work on the same
subject, since, if he did so, it must have been written in the last two years of
his life, for only one work is referred to by him in the Comento, viz. the
Trattatello in lode di Dante. We consider then the Compendio as a
rifacimento not from Boccaccio's hand. The evidence is thoroughly sifted by
Macri Leone, op. cit., whom the reader should consult for a complete
treatment of the matter.

1 The Early Lives of Dante, tr. by P. H. Wicksteed, m.a. (King's Classics,
Chatto and Windus, 1907). This little book, besides preface and introduction,
contains Boccaccio's Vita in English, as well as Leonardo Brum's and three
appendices.

DANTE AND BOCCACCIO 259

was the most eminent student of Dante in his day — the
years that immediately followed the poet's death — nor that
he must have met and talked with many who had known
Dante. He nowhere thinks it necessary to record that
Boccaccio spent more than one considerable period of time
in Romagna and the Marche, and even in the very city and
at the same court where Dante lived and died. It did not
occur to him as a point of honour before giving us his
"warnings" and "cautions" to state that Boccaccio was
well acquainted with Dante's daughter Beatrice, nor to
mention that it was probably during a sojourn in Ravenna,
where she was a nun, that Boccaccio conceived, or at
any rate " pondered " the Vita itself.1 Mr. Wicksteed
does none of these things ; but having spoken some-
what vaguely of the "versions" of the Vita and still
more vaguely of its date, he proceeds to discuss its " docu-
mentary value," assuring us a little reluctantly that
"scholars appear to be settling down to the conclusion
that . . . [Boccaccio] is to be taken as a serious biographer,
who made careful investigations and who used the material
he had gathered with some degree of critical judgment." 2

1 Cf. Mr. Wicksteed's translation, p. 41.

2 As Mr. Wicksteed's translation is the version of the Vita most likely to
come into the hands of English readers, I propose here to traverse his " warn-
ings" and "cautions." Whatever scholars may "appear to be settling down
to," this at least is certain, that of writers upon Dante, Boccaccio is the only
one who in professing to write a life can have had absolutely first-hand evidence.
The points that Mr. Wicksteed wishes to warn us against are three. Boccaccio
asserts that Dante was licentious, that he was a bitter political partisan, and
that when he had once left Gemma he never returned to her or allowed her
to follow him. In order that we may be quite sure what Boccaccio says, as
well as what Mr. Wicksteed thinks he says, I quote Mr. Wicksteed's transla-
tion (p. 79) : " . . . there was no fiercer Ghibelline than he, nor more opposed
to the Guelfs. And that for which I most blush, in the interest of his memory,
is that in Romagna it is matter of greatest notoriety that any feeble woman
or little child who had but spoken, in party talk, in condemnation of the
Ghibelline faction would have stirred him to such madness as to move him to
hurl stones at such, had they not held their peace ; and in such bitterness he
lived even until his death. And assuredly I blush to be forced to taint the
fame of such a man with any defect ; but the order of things on which I have
begun in some sort demands it; because that if I hold my peace concerning
those things in him which are less worthy of praise , I shall withdraw much
faith from the praiseworthy things already recounted. So do I plead my

260

GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

It will be seen, then, that such scholars are right, and
that we have indeed in the Vita not only the earliest, but
incomparably the most authoritative life of Dante that
has come down to us, for it was written not merely by the
greatest lover and defender of Dante in the years that im-
mediately followed his death in 1321, but by one who was
then already a boy of eight years old, and who in his
manhood was well acquainted with Dante's daughter
Beatrice, and with others who had known him in Ravenna
and Romagna, where he had passed so much of his time.

The Vita then comes to us with a certain unassailable
authority, and is besides a work of piety, of love, of vindica-

excuse to him himself, who perchance, even as I write, looketh down with scorn-
ful eye from some lofty region of heaven. Amid all the virtue, amid all the
knowledge that hath been shown above to have belonged to this wondrous
poet, lechery found most ample place not only in the years of his youth, but
also of his maturity ; the which vice, though it be natural and common and
scarce to be avoided, yet in truth is so far from being commendable that it
cannot even be suitably excused. But who amongst mortals shall be a right-
eous judge to condemn it ? Not I. Oh, the impurity, oh, the brutish appe-
tite of men." The passage as to Gemma will be found at the end of the
interpolation against marriage (p. 27), at the end of which he says: "As-
suredly I do not affirm that these things chanced to Dante ; for I do not
know it; though true it is that (whether such like things or others were
the cause) when once he had parted from her [Gemma] who had been given
him as a consolation in his sufferings ! never would he go where she was, nor
suffer her to come to where he was, albeit he was the father of several children
by her." Let us take these things in order.

Boccaccio asserts, much to Mr. Wicksteed's distress, it seems, that Dante
was a bitter and intolerant politician. He will have none of it. Well, let
Dante speak for himself. When he hails as the ' ' Lamb of God " a German
king whom the Guelfs defeated and most probably poisoned ; when he speaks
of Florence, the Guelf city, as " the rank fox that lurketh in hiding, the
beast that drinketh from the Arno, polluting its waters with its jaws, the
viper that stings its mother's heart, the black sheep that corrupts the whole
flock, the Myrrha guilty of incest with her father," according to Mr. Wick-
steed, we ought not to consider him a bitter politician at all ; indeed only an
"ill-informed" and "superficial" person like Boccaccio would call him so.
To ordinary men, however, such semi-scholastic, semi-Biblico-classical lan-
guage sounds like politics, and fierce party politics too, and one cannot
conceive what other explanation Mr. Wicksteed would offer us of it.
Mr. Wicksteed tells us that when Boccaccio declares that it was well
known in Romagna that he would have flung stones at any who "in party
talk had but spoken in condemnation of the Ghibelline cause" he was
speaking figuratively. Perhaps so ; but I doubt if Mr. Wicksteed, had
he had the happiness to be a Guelf, would have cared to put Dante to the
proof. And we may well ask what would have deterred the man, who in hell

DANTE AND BOCCACCIO 261

tion. It opens a little pedantically perhaps with an appeal
to Solon, that "temple of human wisdom," against the
policy of the Florentine Commonwealth in its failure to re-
ward the deserving and to punish the guilty. A passionate
attack on those who had exiled Dante follows in which
he demands : " If all the wrongs Florence hath wrought
could be hidden from the all-seeing eye of God, would not
this one alone suffice to call down His wrath upon her ? Yea,
verily ! " Then follows the reason for his book, which it
seems he has determined to write in expiation of the sin
of Florence, " recognising that I myself am a part, though

thought it virtuous to cheat Frate Alberigo and leave him blinded by his
frozen tears, from hurling a few stones on behalf of his cause?

Nor is Mr. Wicksteed any more ready to believe that Dante was a lover
of women. When Boccaccio tells us that Dante fell into the sin of lechery
not only in his youth but in his maturity, it is on the face of it certain that
he is compelled to say so, that he has irrefutable evidence for it, since he
excuses himself for the necessity of his assertion. Nor is there a tittle of
evidence to refute Boccaccio. Mr. Wicksteed, like a good Protestant, pre-
fers his own private judgment. He prefers to think of Dante as in all respects
what he would have him. " On the whole," he says, " I think the student
may safely form his own judgment from the material in his hands [viz.
Dante's own works, I think] without attaching any authoritative significance
whatever to Boccaccio's assertion. It is safe to go even a step further and to say
that the dominating impression which that assertion leaves is definitely false.
. . !" It is clear that Mr. Wicksteed is not going to allow Boccaccio to
involve Dante in any of his Decameron stories !

Mr. Wicksteed is equally indignant that Boccaccio should have asserted
that Dante when he parted from Gemma never returned to her nor suffered
her to come to him. It seems, then, that Dante too must become a respectable
and sedate person in the modern middle-class manner. He was not a bitter
party politician ; he was not a lover of women ; far from it : he lived as peaceably
and continuously as circumstances allowed him with his wife, whom he cherished
with all the tenderness we might expect of a nature so docile, so well con-
trolled, and so considerate of the sin and weakness of others. ** What was
Boccaccio's source of information as to Dante and Gemma never having met
after the former's exile," Mr. Wicksteed angrily declares, "it is impossible
to say." But that does not invalidate the statement. What is Mr. Wick-
steed's source of doubt ? Is there any evidence that they did meet ? And if they
did not, why curse Boccaccio ? Boccaccio tells us they never did meet. Yet
having no evidence at all to offer us in the matter Mr. Wicksteed has the
extraordinary temerity to close his tirade, one cannot call it an argument, by
this weird confession : " It would be straining the evidence [? what evidence]
to say that we can establish a positive case on the other side." I agree
with him ; it would, it would. But enough ! Such is the virtue of certain
prepossessions that, though the sun be as full of spots as a housewife's pudding
is full of raisins, if it please us not we will deny it.

262 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

but a small one, of the same city whereof Dante Alighieri,
considering his deserts, his nobility, and his virtue, was a
very great one." His book will consist, he tells us, of " those
things as to which he [Dante] kept seemly silence con-
cerning himself, to wit, the nobility of his origin, his life,
his studies, and his character ; and after that I will gather
together the works he composed ; wherein he hath ren-
dered himself so illustrious amongst those to come. . . ."
And he will write in the vulgar " in style full humble, and
light . . . and in our Florentine idiom, that it may not
depart from what he used in the greater part of his works."
He returns more than once to praise the vulgar tongue,
praising Dante in one place as he who " was first to open the
way for the return of the Muses banished from Italy. It
was he who revealed the glory of the Florentine idiom.
It was he that brought under the rule of due numbers
every beauty of the vernacular speech. It was he who
may be truly said to have brought back dead poesy to
life." In another place he says: "by his teachings he
trained many scholars in poetry, especially in the vulgar,
which to my thinking he first exalted and brought into
repute among us Italians, no otherwise than did Homer
his amongst the Greeks or Virgil his amongst the Latins.
. . . He showed by the effect that every lofty matter may
be treated in it ; and made our vernacular glorious above
every other."

Having thus introduced his work to us, he proceeds to
speak of the birth of Dante, who, he says, was born in
1265.1 He speaks then of his "boyhood continuously
given to study in the liberal arts " ; of his reading of
Virgil, Horace, Ovid, and Statius ; of his mastering history
"by himself," and philosophy under divers teachers by
long study and toil. He then tells us of his places ol

1 Elsewhere in the Vita he tells us the month (September), but nowhere
the day (21st). He makes a slip in saying Urban IV was then Pope
Clement IV had been elected in February.

DANTE AND BOCCACCIO 263

study, naming Florence, Bologna, and Paris.1 He then
passes on to his meeting in his ninth year with Beatrice,
who, he tells us, was the little daughter of Folco Portinari,
and recounts her death in her twenty-fourth year and
Dante's grief, his relations' purpose to cure him by
giving him a wife, and his marriage with Gemma. There
follows the famous interpolation against marriage which
I have already quoted at length,2 but which, as he con-
fesses, has nothing to do with Dante.

Having thus brought Dante to manhood, Boccaccio
speaks of his entrance into politics, "wherein the vain
honours that are attached to public office so entangled
him that, without considering whence he had departed
nor whither he was going, with loosened rein he gave
himself almost wholly up to the management of these
things ; and therein fortune was so favourable to him that
never an embassy was heard nor answered, never a law
enacted nor cancelled, never a peace made, never a war
undertaken, and, in short, never a deliberation of any
weight conducted till he first had given his opinion
thereon." We are told of the factions into which the
city was divided, and how the faction opposed to that of
which Dante was in some sense the leader got the mastery
and " hurled Dante in a single moment from the height of

1 But it is also Boccaccio who seems to suggest that Dante may have come
to England, to Oxford. This visit Tiraboschi supposed to stand merely
on the assertion of Giovanni di Serravalle (1416-17), who says Dante had
studied "Paduoe, Bononiae, demum Oxoniis et Parisiis"; but in the Carme,
which accompanied the copy of the Divine Comedy Boccaccio sent to Petrarch
(Corazzini, op. cit., p. 53), he shows us Dante led by Apollo : —

"per celsa nivosi
Cyrreos, mediosque sinus tacitosque recessus
Naturae, coelique vias, terraeque, marisque
Aonios fontes, Parnasi culmen et antra
Julia, Parisios dudum, extremosque Britannos."

Cf. Mazzinghi, A Brief Notice of Recent Researches respecting Dante
(1844), quoted by Paget Toynbee, Dante in English Literature (Methuen,
1909), Vol. II, p. 696 et seq.

2 See supra, p. i&$et_se£. As we have seen, this tirade is not altogether
original, butTs-fotlritfeiroh a passage of Theophrastus, translated by Jerome, and
copied out by Boccaccio. Cf. Maori Leone, Vitadi Dante (Firenze, if ~

264 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

government of his city," so that he was cast out from it an
exile, his house gutted and plundered, and his real property-
confiscated.

He shows us the poet wandering hither and thither
through Tuscany " without anxiety " on account of his
wife and children, because he knew Gemma " to be
related to one of the chiefs of the hostile faction . . .
and some little portion of his possessions she had with
difficulty defended from the rage of the citizens, under the
title of her dowry, on the proceeds of which she provided
in narrow style enough for herself and for his children ;
whilst he in his poverty must needs provide for his own
sustenance by industry, to which he was all unused. . . .
Year after year he remained (turning from Verona, where
he had gone to Messer Alberto della Scala on his first
flight, and had been graciously received by him), now with
the Count Salvatico in the Casentino, now with the
Marquis Moruello Malespina in the Lunigiana, now with
the Delia Faggiola in the mountains near Urbino, held in
much honour so far as consisted with the times and with
their power." Thence Boccaccio tells us he went to
Bologna and Padua, and again to Verona. It was at
this time, seeing no way yet of returning to Florence,
that he went to Paris and there studied philosophy and
theology. While he was in Paris, Henry of Luxemburg
was elected King of the Romans and had left Germany
to subdue Italy. Dante "supposed for many reasons that
he must prove victorious, and conceived the hope of re-
turning to Florence by his power . . . although he heard
Florence had taken sides against him." So he crossed
the Alps, " he joined with the enemies of the Florentines,
and both by embassies and letters strove to draw the
Emperor from the siege of Brescia in order to lay siege
to Florence . . . declaring that if she were overcome,
little or no toil would remain to secure the possession and
dominion of all Italy free and unimpeded." This proved

GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO
From the fresco in S. Apollonia. Florence. By Andrea da! Castagno. (13Q6 C^-itfj)

DANTE AND BOCCACCIO 265

a failure, for Florence was not to be beaten, and the death
of the Emperor " cast into despair all who were looking
to him, and Dante most of all ; wherefore no longer going
about to seek his return, he passed the heights of the
Apennines and departed to Romagna, where his last day
that was to put an end to all his toils awaited him." There
in Ravenna ruled Guido Novello da Polenta, who, as
Boccaccio says, " did not wait to be requested " to receive
him, " but considering with how great shame men of worth
ask such favours, with liberal mind and with free proffers
he approached him, requesting from Dante of special
grace that which he knew Dante must needs have begged
of him, to wit, that it might please him to abide with him.
. . . Highly pleased by the liberality of the noble knight,
and also constrained by his necessities, Dante awaited
no further invitation but the first, and took his way to
Ravenna. . . ." There in " the middle or thereabout of
his fifty-sixth year he fell sick . . . and in the month of
September in the years of Christ one thousand three
hundred and twenty-one, on the day whereon the Exalta-
tion of the Holy Cross is celebrated by the Church, not
without the greatest grief on the part of the aforesaid
Guido, and generally all the other Ravennese, he rendered
up to his Creator his toilworn spirit, the which I doubt
not was received into the arms of his most noble Beatrice,
with whom ... he now lives most joyously in that life
the felicity of which expects no end." Then after speak-
ing of the plans of Guido for Dante's tomb, and again
reproaching Florence for her ingratitude, and inciting her
for her own honour to demand his body, " not but that I
am certain he will not be surrendered to thee," what we
may call the first part of the Vita comes to an end.

The second part opens with a portrait of the poet very
careful and minute in its description.

" This our poet, then, was of middle height ; and when
he had reached maturity he went somewhat bowed, his

266 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

gait grave and gentle, and ever clad in most seemly apparel,
in such garb as befitted his ripe years. His face was long,
his nose aquiline, and his eyes rather large than small ; his
jaws big, and the under lip protruding beyond the upper.
His complexion was dark, his hair and beard thick, black,
and curling, and his expression was ever melancholy and
thoughtful."1 There follow several stories about him in
Verona and at Paris. And Boccaccio seems to have come
very near to the secret of Dante's tragedy when he tells us
at last that "he longed most ardently for honour and
glory ; perchance more than befitted his illustrious virtue."
He understood the enormous pride of the man, his insati-
able superiority, his scorn of those who had wronged him ;
and he is full of excuses for him, full of pity too for his
sorrows and eager to heap praise on praise of the great
poet he so much reverenced and loved.2

The rest of the Vita is concerned with Dante's work,
and forms, as it were, a third part, introduced by a long
dissertation on poetry and poets, followed by a short
chapter on Dante's pride and some in which he gives
certain instances of it. Then he passes to the con-
sideration of the Vita Nuova, of the Divine Comedy} the

1 Mr. Wicksteed's translation, p. 53.

2 On what Boccaccio has to say on Dante's pride see pp. 58 and 77 of Mr.
Wicksteed's translation.

3 He treats of the Divine Comedy more fully than of the rest. "The ques-
tion is moved at large by many men, and amongst them sapient ones," he
writes, "why Dante, a man perfectly versed in knowledge, chose to write in
the Florentine idiom so grand a work, of such exalted matter and so notable
as this comedy ; and why not rather in Latin verses, as other poets before him
had done. In reply to which question, two chief reasons, amongst many
others, come to my mind. The first of which is that he might be of more
general use to his fellow-citizens and the other Italians ; for he knew that if
he had written metrically in Latin, as the other poets of past times had done,
he would only have done service to men of letters, whereas writing in the
vernacular he did a deed ne'er done before, and (without any let to men of
letters whereby they should not understand him) showing the beauty of our
idiom and his own excelling art therein, gave delight and understanding of
himself to the unlearned, who had hitherto been abandoned of every one. The
second reason which moved him thereto was this : seeing that liberal studies
were utterly abandoned, and especially by the princes and other great men,
to whom poetic toils were wont to be dedicated (wherefore the divine works

DANTE AND BOCCACCIO 267

De Monarchia, the Convivio, the De Vulgari Eloquentia,
and the Rime in the briefest possible manner. As a critic
it must be confessed Boccaccio is lacking in judgment, but
the facts he gives us, the assertions he makes in matters of
fact regarding these works must be received, I think, with
the utmost seriousness. It is impossible to doubt that
Boccaccio wrote in all good faith, and it must be remem-
bered that there were any number of people living who
had he departed from the truth could have contradicted
him. No one of whom we have any record did contradict
him ; we hear no whisper of any protest. Most of those
who busied themselves with Dante, on the contrary, gladly
copied him. Had he been a liar with regard to Dante the
Republic of Florence would scarcely have appointed him
to the first Cathedra Dantesca ; but they gave him the
lectureship just because he was the one person who could
fill it with honour.

And so when he tells us that in his maturer years
Dante was ashamed of the Vita Nuova we must accept
it, reminding ourselves that this was no impossibility,
for Petrarch too was ashamed of his Italian sonnets,
while Boccaccio actually destroyed a great part of his
own. When he tells us again that Dante left behind him
seven cantos of the Inferno when he fled from Florence,
we must accept it in the same way as we must accept the
story of the recovery of the last thirteen cantos of the

of Virgil and the other poets had not only sunk into neglect, but well nigh
into contempt at the hands of many), having himself begun, according as the
loftiness of the matter demanded, after this guise —

" Ultima regna canam, fluido contermina mundo,
Spiritibus que lata patent que premia solvunt
Pro meritis cuicumque suis ..."

he abandoned it ; for he conceived it was a vain thing to put crusts of bread
into the mouths of such as were still sucking milk ; wherefore he began his
work again in style suited to modern tastes, and followed it up in the ver-
nacular." He adds that Dante, "as some maintain," dedicated the Inferno
to Uguccione della Faggiuola, the Purgatorio to Marquis Moruello Malespina,
and the Paradiso to Frederic third King of Sicily ; but as others assert, the
whole poem was dedicated to Messer Cane della Scala. He does not resolve
the question.

268 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

Paradiso by Dante's son Jacopo. Indeed, there is no good
reason to find Boccaccio either careless or a liar anywhere
in the work. The immense care he bestowed upon the
collection of his facts has, on the contrary, been admitted
by one of the best Dante scholars of our day1 and proved
by another not less learned,2 so that we have no right at all
to regard his work as anything less than the most valuable
document we possess on Dante's life. It has often been
treated as a mere romance, it has been sneered at and
abused, but it has never yet been proved to be at fault
in any matter of the least importance touching Dante, or in
any matter of personal fact. Of course it is not the work
of a modern historian ; it has not the reassurance of dull-
ness or the mechanical accuracy of " scientific " history.
But to sneer at it because its " account of the Guelf and
Ghibelline disputes and of the political events in which
Dante was chiefly concerned " may seem " vague and
inadequate in the extreme " is merely absurd. Boccaccio
is not writing of these events, he does not propose to give
an account of them ; he confesses in the most sincere
fashion that he does not rightly know what the words
Guelf and Ghibelline originally implied. He is writing of
Dante ; and on Dante's life, on Dante's work, he had
enquired and studied and read and, as he himself says,
" pondered " for many years.

We must not demand from the Vita more than it
will readily give us. It was written with a purpose.
Its intention was both to praise Dante and to arrest the
attention of the Florentines to the wrong they had done
him ; Boccaccio wished to set the facts before them
as an advocate of the dead. The facts : he had known
Beatrice, Dante's daughter, and three other relations or
friends of Dante's whom he names, Pier Giardino of
Ravenna,3 one of Dante's most intimate friends ; Andrea

1 Cf. Dr. Moore, op. cit.

2 Cf. Paget Toynbee, Life of Dante (Methuen, 1904), pp. 130 and 147.

3 Cf. ComentOy ed. cit., Lez. 2, Vol. I, p. 104.

DANTE AND BOCCACCIO 269

Poggio,1 Dante's nephew, and Dino Perini, Andrea's rival
in the discovery of the lost cantos of the Inferno, and
many others who had known both Dante and Beatrice;2
thus he could if he wished come by facts ; and that he set
down just facts has been proved over and over again.
And then there were still living those who had hated
Dante bitterly and would gladly have found fault if they
could. There were others too who would certainly have
allowed nothing entirely to the detriment of Dante to pass
unchallenged : they made no sign. That they were silent
is in itself a sufficient tribute to the truthfulness of the
book.

I have already said something as to the versions of the
Life:3 it remains to add that though the MSS. of the
Compendium are rare, those of the Vita are very numerous,4
while the first printed edition of the work was published in
Venice in 1477 by Vindelin da Spira before the edition of
the Divine Comedy with the comment of Jacopo della
Lana, erroneously attributed to Benvenuto da Imola.
Prof. Macri Leone describes nineteen later editions,
making with his own some twenty-one in all.5

It is not surprising that the author of this eager defence
of Dante, of the first life of the poet, should on the
petition of the Florentines for a lecturer in the Divine
Comedy have been chosen by the Signoria to fill that
honourable and difficult post. His first lecture, as we
have seen, was delivered in the church of Santo
Stefano on Sunday, October 23, 1373. Already an old
man, infirm in health, he can scarcely have hoped to
finish his work, and as it proved he was not able to

1 Cf. Content 0) ed. cit.,Lez. 33, Vol. II, p. 129.

2 He tells us this in the Comento as well as in the Vita, where he gives
certain facts as "as others to whom his desire was known declare"
(Wicksteed, op. cit., p. 18).

3 Cf. supra, p. 257, n. 1.

4 Cf. Macri Leone, op. cit., cap. ix., who describes twenty-two in Italy.

5 The Compendio has been printed four times — first in 1809 in Milan, before
the Divine of Comedy as published by Luigi Mussi.

270 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

complete a sixth part of it, for attacked by illness in the
winter of 1373, he broke off abruptly at the seventeenth
verse of the seventeenth canto of the Inferno and returned
to Certaldo really to die. That, after that sudden break-
down, if such it was, he never resumed his lectures seems
certain, and although it was at the time supposed that Boc-
caccio had written a complete commentary on the Divine
Comedy, and a fourteenth-century Comento, now commonly
known as // Fa/so Boccaccio} was accepted even by the
Academicians of the Crusca as his work,2 it seems certain
that the fragment we know as his Comento was all that
was ever written, though how much of it was actually
delivered in lectures it is impossible to say.3

That the Comento we have and no other is really the
work of Boccaccio was proved long ago by Manni,4 for it
seems, that when Boccaccio died at last, a dispute arose
among his heirs as to the meaning of his Will, the bone of
contention being this very Comento, which both Fra Martino
da Signa of Santo Spirito in Florence, to whom he had
left his books, claimed as part of his library, and also
Jacopo his half-brother, to whose children Boccaccio had
left all the other property he had.5 The affair was at last
referred to the Consoli dell' Arte del Cambio, the two sides
submitting their claims in writing. We find there that
Fra Martino, if the Comento were adjudged his property,
professed his willingness to let Jacopo have it, a sheet at

1 Printed by Lord Vernon at Florence in 1846 under title Chiose sopra
Dante.

2 Cf. their Vocabolario, eds. 1612, 1 623, 1 69 1. Mazzuccheli also in the
eighteenth century accepted it. Yet Betussi knew it was incomplete in 1547.
Cf. his translation of De Genealogiis.

3 Mr. Paget Toynbee, whose learned article on the Comento in Modern
Language Review, Vol. II, No 2, January, 1907, I have already referred to,
and return to with profit and pleasure, says : " It is not unreasonable
to suppose that though too ill to lecture publicly, Boccaccio may have
occupied himself at Certaldo in continuing the Commentary in the hope of
eventually resuming his course at Florence."

4 Cf. Manni, Istoria del Decamerone, pp. 104-6, who prints all the docu-
ments of the lawsuit.

5 Cf. Appendix V, where I print the Will.

DANTE AND BOCCACCIO 271

a time, to copy. Jacopo, however, makes no such offer ; we
should nevertheless be grateful to him — he was the victor
— for in his claim he minutely describes the MS. in question
and so enables us to identify it with those we possess.1
" Dinanzi a voi domando," we read there, " ventiquattro
quaderni, et quattordici quadernucci, tutti in carta di
bambagia, non legati insieme, ma Y uno dall' altro diviso,
d' uno iscritto, o vero isposizione sopra sedici Capitoli, e parte
del diciassettesimo del Dante, il quale scritto il detto Messer
Giovanni di Boccaccio non compie. . . ."

This incomplete work,2 which breaks off so suddenly
really in the middle of a paragraph, might seem to be
rather a true commentary, a sort of full notes on the work
in question, such as is still common in Italy, than a series
of lectures delivered viva voce. Indeed the living voice is
almost entirely absent, and as Dr. Toynbee says, "if it
were not for a single passage at the beginning of his opening
lecture in which he directly addresses his audience as ' Voi,
Signori fiorentini,' it would be difficult to gather from
the work itself that it was composed originally for public
delivery." 3 He seems to have composed it as he would
have composed a book, with the utmost care and foresight,
often referring some point forward to be discussed later ;
and thus we may see that he had already considered as a
critic and as a commentator the whole of the work, and
had made up his mind that such and such a reference
would be better discussed at some point in the Purgatorio
or at another in the Paradiso, and so refused to discuss it
at the moment. His work too is not only filled with
Dantesque thought and phraseology, but is in its form

1 He valued the MS. at 18 gold florins.

2 The best edition is Milanesi's (Florence, Le Monnier, 1863). He divided
it first into sixty lezioni which do not necessarily accord with Boccaccio's
lectures.

3 Cf. Paget Toynbee, op. cit., p. 1 12. It is significant too, as Dr. Toynbee
does not fail to note, that Boccaccio often uses scrivere instead of parlare in
speaking of his lectures. Cf. Lez. 2 and Lez. 20 ; Milanesi, Vol. I, 120 and
148, also Lez. 52, Vol. II, 366.

272 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

composed in the manner of Dante, that is to say, he ex-
pounds first the literal meaning, the obvious sense, and then
the secondary meaning or sense allegorical, just as Dante
does in the Convivio when speaking of his Canzoni, and as
he had already begun to do even in the Vita Nuova. Nor
was this anything new for Boccaccio ; all his life he had
himself written in allegory, and had been used to condemn
those who found no secondary meaning in the poets.1

But the most characteristic part of the Comento, its
greatest surprise for us too, is perhaps to be found in its
opening. For after excusing himself with his usual
modesty as wholly insufficient for the task, he addresses
his audience as " men of lofty understanding and of won-
derful quickness of understanding " — facts his commentary
does not altogether lead us to endorse, for he feels called
upon to explain the simplest things,2 and then after
quoting Plato3 in the Timcens as to the propriety of
invoking divine aid, he asks for God's help not in any
Christian prayer, but in the words of Anchises in the
second ALneid : —

" Jupiter omnipotens, precibus si flecteris ullis,
Aspice nos : hoc tantum : et, si pietate meremur
Da deinde auxilium, pater !"4

He was so much a man of the Renaissance that he does
not seem to have felt it at all inappropriate to ask thus
for God's aid in expounding the greatest of Christian
poems, by addressing himself to Jupiter: he merely ex-
plains that as the work he is to explain is in verse it is
proper to invoke God in verse also.

Having thus asked for God's blessing, he proceeds to

1 Cf. De Genealogiis, XIV, 7 and 10, and supra, p. 247.

2 For instance, he explains that an oar is "a long thick piece of wood
with which the boatman propels his boat and guides and directs it from one
place to another" {Comento, I, 286). Cf. Toynbee, op. cit., p. 116.

3 Through the medium of Chalcidius, whom he does not name. In this
form the medieval world knew the Timceus. Cf. Toynbee, op. cit., p. 113.

4 ALneid, II, 689-91.

DANTE AND BOCCACCIO 273

: >pen his lecture. He first examines the work he is to
i liscuss as to its kind, then as to its causes, its title and
i >chool of philosophy. In doing so he shows us that he
vas aware of the doubtful letter of Dante to Can Grande
iella Scala,1 for he quotes it, though he names it not. He
ioes not approve of the title — The Comedy — for such is
jsed for low subjects and common people ; but Dante's

Km is concerned with the greatest persons and deeds,
1 sin and penitence, the ways of angels and the secrets
Df God. The style too of comedy, he asserts, is humble
and simple, while Dante's poem is lofty and ornate,
although it is written in the vulgar tongue, and he is
obliged to admit that in the Latin it would have had a
finer dignity.

From this he proceeds to discuss Dante's name and its
significance much as he had already done in the Vita, and
having decided that the poem belongs to moral philo-
sophy, proceeds, after formally submitting all he may say
to the judgment of the Catholic Church, to deal with the
Inferno. Yet even now he cannot come at the poem
without discussing the Inferno itself, whether there be a
Hell, or maybe more than one, where it is placed, how it is
approached, what are its shape and size and its purpose, and
lastly why it is called Infernus? Then on the very brink
of the poem he turns away again to discuss why Dante
wrote in Tuscan instead of in Latin ; and having given
practically the same explanation as that we have already
noted in the Vita* he proceeds at long last to the Com-
mentary proper.

And here we cannot but be astonished at the extra-

1 Cf. Comento, I, 82-5, and Epist.y X, par. 8, 9, 15, 10, and see
Toynbee, op. cit., p. 113 and n. 7.

2 Nor was all this original matter. " To the discussion of these points,"
says Dr. Toynbee, " he devotes what amounts to some ten printed pages in
Milanesi's edition of the Commentary {Comento, I, p. 92 et seq.), at least
half of the matter being translated word for word from a previous work of his
own, the De Genealogiis Deorum. ..."

3 Cf. supra, p. 262.

274 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

ordinary mixture of simplicity and subtlety, of elementary
knowledge and profound learning which are heaped
together without any discrimination. There is something
here of the endless leisure of the Middle Age in which
Boccaccio seems determined to say everything. " One
wonders," says Dr. Toynbee, " for what sort of audience
Boccaccio's lectures were intended." In the terms of the
petition the lecturer was to expound the Commedia for the
benefit of " etiam non grammatici." But it is difficult to
conceive that any audience of Florentines, even of Floren-
tine children, however ignorant of Latin, let alone the
" uomini d' alto intendemento e di mirabile perspicacita "
to whom Boccaccio refers in such flattering terms in his
opening lecture, could require to be informed, as
Boccaccio carefully informs it, that an anchor is " an
instrument of iron which has at one end several grapples,
and at the other a ring by which it is attached to a rope
whereby it is let down to the bottom of the sea," * or that
" every ship has three principal parts, of which one is called
the bows, which is sharp and narrow, because it is in front
and has to cut the water ; the second is called the poop
and is behind, where the steersman stands to work the
tiller, by means of which, according as it is moved to
one side or the other, the ship is made to go where the
steersman wishes ; while the third part is called the keel,
which is the bottom of the ship, and lies between the
bows and the stern,"2 and so on.

Nor is this all, for even the Bible stories are retold at
length,3 and a whole discourse is given upon ^Eneas.4
The elementary subjects dealt with at such length cheek
by jowl with the most profound questions seems to us
extraordinary, nor apparently are we the only readers to
be surprised ; for possibly on this account Boccaccio was
bitterly reproached in his own day for lecturing on the

1 Comento, II, 454. 2 Ibid., II, 139.

8 Ibid., I, 304 et seq. 4 Ibid., I, 347-50.

DANTE AND BOCCACCIO 275

Commedia to the vulgar. He replied, really admitting the
offence, and pleading poverty as his excuse in two
sonnets,1 one of which I quote here : — 2

" If Dante mourns, there vvheresoe'er he be
That such high fancies of a soul so proud
Should be laid open to the vulgar crowd
(As touching my Discourse, I'm told by thee)
This were my grievous pain ; and certainly
My proper blame should not be disavow'd ;
Though hereof somewhat, I declare aloud
Were due to others, not alone to me.
False hopes, true poverty, and therewithal
The blended judgment of a host of friends,
And their entreaties, made that I did this.
But of all this there is no gain at all

Unto the thankless souls with whose base ends
Nothing agrees that's great or generous."

So much for the vulgar. But, as I have already said,
beside these elementary discourses we find a vast mass
of learning and research that bears eloquent testimony
not only to the extent of Boccaccio's reading, but also
to his eager and careful study of the works of Dante.

Dr. Toynbee has suggested that it was probably owing
to his failing health and energy that he introduced into
the Comento so many and so copious extracts from his
own previous works, the De Claris Mulieribus? the De
Casibus Virorum Illustriumf the De Montibus, Sylvis>
Lacubus, etc.,5 and the De Genealogiis Deorum? but I think
probably Boccaccio never gave the matter a thought.
His business was to expound, and he used his own
previous works as works of reference — the best works

1 Rime, ed. cit. , sonnets vii. and viii.

2 In Rossetti's beautiful translation.

3 Cf. Comento, I, 143-4, 214, 359, 361, 362, 367, 437, 448-51, 451-6,
457-62, 463-6, 498, and II, 190, 435.

4 Cf. Comento, I, 177, 180, 362, 435, and II, 18, 36, 65.

5 Cf. Comento, I, 479, and II, 51, 149, 184, 220, 368, 385, 448-9; and
see Paget Toynbee, op. cit., p. 117 and notes.

6 From this book Boccaccio translated more than three times as much as
from any other. Cf. Comento^ I, 92-5, 99-101, 123-6, 128-35, etc. etc.

276 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

of the sort, we must remember, that were to be had in
his day. To have named these works — he never does
refer to them — would have been useless in those days
before the invention of the printing press ; and then they
were themselves mere collections for the most part, the
vast notebooks of his enormous reading.

It is not, however, by any means on them alone he relies,
for he uses and lays under contribution, as it might seem,
almost every writer with whose works he was acquainted.1
Of these, two are especially notable, namely, Homer and
Tacitus. He quotes the former six times in all, four
times in the Iliad'1 and twice in the Odyssey \* the last
quotation from the Iliad being verbatim from the Latin
translation of Pilatus which Petrarch had copied, the
MS., as we have already noted, being now preserved
in the Bibliotheque Nationale at Paris.4 As for Tacitus —
and Boccaccio is the first modern writer to show any
acquaintance with his work — he uses the fifteenth book
of the Annals5 for his account of the death of Lucan, and
names his source of information,6 and books twelve to
fifteen for his account of the death of Seneca.7 The
Comento is thus not only a most precious source of
information with regard to the Divine Comedy, but a
kind of Encyclopedia Dantesca into which the whole
learning of the age, the whole reading of Boccaccio had
been emptied.

We may perhaps gather something of its significance,
its importance, and its extraordinary reputation if we

1 Dr. Toynbee has long promised to publish a paper on this matter. It
will be very welcome.

2 Cf. Comento, I, 347, 462, 467, 511. 3 Cf. Comento, I, 97, 466.

4 See supra, p. 205 et seq.

5 At caps. 56-7 and 69-70.

6 Cf. Comento, I, 333-4.

7 Cf. Comento, I, 397-402. See Paget Toynbee, op. cit., pp. 1 18-19.
He notes that Boccaccio " nowhere employs the title Annals . . . but uses
the term storie . . . even when he is quoting from the Annals" as in
Comento, I, 400. He seems to have made no use of the Histories in his
Comento.

DANTE AND BOCCACCIO 277

consider for a moment the freedom with which it was
exploited by the commentators who came after.1 Begin-
ning with the Anonimo Fiorentino, who wrote some thirty
years after Boccaccio's death, perhaps the worst offender,
for he never once mentions Boccaccio's name, while he
copies from him page after page, there follow Benvenuto
da Imola (1373), Francesco da Buti (1385), who make a
very considerable use of his work, the latter especially,
while Landino (1481), the best of the Renaissance com-
mentators, freely quotes him,2 calling him " huomo, et per
dottrina, et per costumi, et per essere propinquo a' tempi
di Dante, degno di fede." In the sixteenth century Gelli,
who lectured before the Academy of Florence between
1 541 and 1 561, quotes Boccaccio sixty times, "oftener,"
says Dr. Toynbee, "than he quotes any other commen-
tator save Landino." He more than once declares that
Boccaccio has explained a passage so well that he can
only repeat his words : " Non saprei io per me trovarci
miglior esposizione che quella del Boccaccio." He at
least and indeed for the first time appreciates the Comento
truly.

Considering then this long chorus of praise, though it
be more often the silent praise of imitation than the frank
commendation of acknowledgment, it is strange that only
four MSS. of the Comento have come down to us, three in
the Magliabecchiana and one in the Riccardiana libraries
in Florence;3 while of these only three are complete.4
Nor is it less surprising that the first printed edition of
such a work should not have appeared till 1724.5 This
edition and that by Moutier,6 which followed it nearly

1 As to this see Paget Toynbee, op. cit., p. 105.

2 Eight times in all. Besides these quotations he uses him freely.

3 Cf. Paget Toynbee, op. cit., no. All trace of Boccaccio's own MS.
about which there was the lawsuit has vanished.

4 Cf. Milanesi, Comento, Vol. I, p. v.

5 At Naples (imprint Florence), two vols., 1724, in Opere Volgari in Prosa
del Boccaccio, published by Lorenzo Ciccarelli (Cellurio Zacclori).

6 In Opere Volgari (1827-34, Florence, Magheri), Vols. X, XI, XII.

278 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

a hundred years later, founded on the same single MS.,
are of little critical value, and that of Fratticelli, pub-
lished in 1844, is but a reprint of the Moutier text. It
remained for Gaetano Milanesi, that man of herculean
labour and vast learning, to produce the first critical text
in 1863, three more MSS. of the Comento having been dis-
covered in the meantime. He divided the book into
lezioni, which are but doubtfully of any authority ; but
his text holds the field, and he was not slow or cold in
his recognition of the value of the work of one who, almost
a contemporary of Dante, had loved and honoured him,
not only in writing his life and composing a commentary
on his work, but in verse too, as in this inscription for
his portrait : —

" Dante Alighieri, a dark oracle
Of wisdom and of art, I am ; whose mind
Has to my country such great gifts assign'd
That men account my powers a miracle.
My lofty fancy passed as low as Hell
As high as Heaven, secure and unconfined ;
And in my noble book doth every kind
Of earthly love and heavenly doctrine dwell.
Renouned Florence was my mother,— nay,
Stepmother unto me her piteous son,
Through sin of cursed slander's tongue and tooth.
Ravenna sheltered me so cast away ;
My body is with her, — my soul with One
For Whom no envy can make dim the truth."1

1 Rime, ed. cit., cviii. (Rossetti's translation).

CHAPTER XVII

J373-I375
ILLNESS AND DEATH

THAT illness which brought those lectures on
the Divine Comedy so swiftly to an end in
the winter of 1373 was no new thing; for long,
as we have seen, Boccaccio had had a troubled
spirit. If he had recovered from his grief at the death of
Fiammetta, he had never wholly been himself since his
conversion. The disease which then declared itself was
no new thing. In his versatile and athletic spirit there
had always been a strain of melancholy that had shown
itself even in his earliest childhood, when he imagined he
was persecuted ; on his arrival in Naples as a boy, when
only a kiss could restore his confidence ; in the long years
of his troubled and unstable love and in the loneliness
of his manhood ; with old age at his elbow it needed but
little for his spirit, so easily joyful, to be lost in a strange
darkness.

Already before he had been appointed to that lecture-
ship in Florence he had felt himself seriously ill. Writing
at the end of August, 1373, to Messer Maghinardo de'
Cavalcanti he had excused himself for his long delay in
answering his letter, pleading the " long infirmity which
prevented me from writing to you . . . and which only in
the last few days has given me a little respite. Since the
last time I saw you . . . every hour of my life has been
very like death, afflicted, tedious, and full of weariness

279

28o GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1373-

to myself. . . . First of all I was beset by a continuous
and burning itching, and a dry scab, to scratch the dry
scales and the flakes of which I had scarce nails enough
day or night ; then I was afflicted by a heaviness, a
sluggishness of the bowels, a perpetual agony of the veins,
swelling of the spleen, a burning bile, a suffocating cough
and hoarseness, heaviness of head, and indeed more
maladies than I know how to enumerate ; all my body
languished, and all its humours were at war. And so
it happened that I looked on the sky without happiness ;
my body was weary, my steps vacillating, my hand
trembled ; I was deathly pale, cared nothing for food, but
held it all in abhorrence. Letters were odious to me,
my books, once so delightful to me, could not please me,
the forces of the soul were relaxed, my memory almost
gone, my energy seemed drugged, and my thoughts were
all turned to the grave and to death."1

But this was not all. He had scarcely got so far in
his letter, he writes, when on August 12 a new ill befell
him. At sunset a burning fever attacked him so fiercely
that he could not leave his bed. As the night advanced
the fever increased, his head ached violently, and without
respite he turned and turned again in his bed, wearily
looking thus for some relief. He was alone with only an
old servant, who could do nothing but weep. Day came
and with it some friends, who would have sent for a
physician ; but Boccaccio, with less gentleness than
Petrarch showed, refused, till at last, utterly worn out, he
allowed himself to be persuaded. The doctor who came
to him was " a country doctor, accustomed to attend the
peasants," as he says, " but kind and thoughtful." He told
Boccaccio that unless he could rid himself of the poison
which was killing him he would be dead in a few days.

1 Cf. Corazzini, op. cit., p. 281. The disease which Boccaccio thus
describes has been thought to be a form of diabetes. Cf. Cochin, Etudes
Italiennes : Boccace, p. 167, n. I. Petrarch too suffered from la scabbia.

i375l ILLNESS AND DEATH 281

He brought in a cautery, a furnace, and other terrible
instruments used then in medical practice. He then pro-
ceeded to use them, burning the patient largely, in many
places cutting him with a razor and slashing his skin.
He suffered dreadfully, but the doctor told him he was
healed. And, it might seem by a direct miracle of God,
he was saved out of the hands of this criminal lunatic ;
he slept, and little by little recovered. He was, however,
very feeble. Nothing he can say against doctors can
seem absurd, or exaggerated, or less than just when we
remember that he had the unhappiness to fall at last into
their hands.1

It is possible that his friends in Florence heard of his
miseries and his poverty — for he was very poor, and it was
really on his behalf the Cathedra Dantesca was founded.
However that may be, it might have seemed impossible
that one in his case could have accepted it, yet in spite of
his weakness he left Certaldo and went to Florence, where,
as we have seen, in accordance with the decree of the
Signoria he began to lecture in October. That he broke
down is not surprising ; it is only wonderful that he got as
far as he did. But that brief burst of energy was his last ;
in the winter of 1373 he returned to Certaldo really
to die.

From that moment all his melancholy seems to have
returned to him with fourfold strength : he who had taken
his fill of life, now could no more look happily on the sky,
he was a dying man and he knew it. He groped about
far from Petrarch looking for some appalling certainty
He seems to have thought he could find it in the monastic
life, and his solitude must have been not less profound.

1 In a letter to Maghinardo, September 13, 1373, he thanks him with
effusion for sending him a vase of gold full of gold pieces. Thanks to that,
he says, he can buy a cloak for his poor feverish body. Cf. Corazzini,
op. cit., p. 287. Villani is apparently wrong when he says he had many
friends, but that none came to his assistance. One did. All the early
biographies agree about his poverty.

282 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1373-

Death and thoughts about death haunted him, as they
are wont to do imaginative people. It must have been in
some such darkness as that which then fell upon him
that he wrote more than one of the sonnets in which he
seems to have sought in verse the power to realise what it
was that was about to befall him.

" Dura cosa e ed orribile assai
La morte ad aspettare e paurosa,
Ma cosi certa ed infallibil cosa
Ne fu, ne e, ne credo sara mai ;
E '1 corso della vita e breve c' hai,
E volger non si puo ne dargli posa ;
Ne qui si vede cosa si gioiosa
Che il suo fine non sia lacrime e guai.
Dunque perche con operar valore
Non c' ingegnamo di stender la fama,
E con quella far lunghi i brevi giorni ?
Questa ne da questa ne serva onore,
Questa ne lieva dagli anni la squama,
Questa ne fa di lunga vita adorni." 1

In the summer of 1374 a new blow fell upon him. Pet-
rarch was dead.2 He heard the news first as a rumour,
and then, some three months after his friend had passed
away, in a letter from Francesco da Brossano, the poet's
son-in-law, whom he had met at Venice. That he had
already heard of his loss when he got Franceschino's letter
we gather from his reply, written in the beginning of
November : —

" I received your sorrowful letter, most well beloved

1 Rime, ed. cit., sonnet xxxvi. " It is a hard thing and a very horrible to
wait for death ; it is a thing which fills one with fear : yet death is more cer-
tain and infallible than anything else that has been, that is, or that will ever
be. The course of life is short and one cannot return along it, and on earth
there is no joy so great that it does not end in tears and regrets. Then why
should we not seek to extend by work our renown, and by that to make
long our days so short ? This thought gives me and keeps me in courage. It
spares me the regret of the years which are fled away, it gives me the
splendour of a long life."

2 Petrarch died at Arqua on July 18, 1374. The news was known in
Florence on July 25, when Coluccio Salutati wrote to Benvenuto da Imola
and mentioned it.

1375] ILLNESS AND DEATH 283

brother, on the 31st October,"1 he writes, " and not knowing
the writing I broke the seal and looked for the name of
the writer, and as soon as I read your name I knew what
news you had to tell me, that is to say, the happy passing
of our illustrious father and master, Francesco Petrarch,
from the earthly Babylon to the heavenly Jerusalem.
Although none of my friends had written me save you,
since every one spoke of it I had known it for some time —
to my great sorrow — and during many days I wept almost
without ceasing — not at his ascension, but for myself thus
unhappy and abandoned. And that is not wonderful, for
no one in the world loved him more than I. And so to
acquit myself, my intention was to go at once to mix my
tears with yours, to lament with you and to say a last
farewell at the tomb of this illustrious father. But more
than ten months ago now2 a malady, rather long and
wearying than dangerous, surprised me in my native city
[patria], where I was publicly expounding the Comedy of
Dante. And because for four months, at the request of
my friends, I followed the advice, I will not say of the
doctors, but of charlatans [fabulonum], my malady did
nothing but increase. The potions and the diet so upset
all nutrition that unless you saw me you would not believe
how weak I am become, and my appearance only too well
confirms it. Wretched man that I am, you would no
longer recognise him whom you saw in Venice. My skin,
lately well filled, is empty now, my colour is changed, my
sight dulled, while my knees shake and my hands tremble.
It follows that, far from crossing the proud summits of the
Apennine, on the advice of some of my friends I have

1 Cf. Corazzini, op. cit., p. 377. He received Franceschino's letter
"pridie XIII kalendas novembris," that is October 31.

2 "Verum jam decimus elapsus est mensis, postquam in patria publice
legentem Comoediam Dantis magis longa, atque taediosa, quam discrimine
aliquo dubia segritudo oppressit. . . ," The letter was written about
November 7, ten months before which was January 7. Thus we know it
was in the winter of 1373 (Fl. St.), or January, 1374, that he broke down.

284 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [137

just been able to return from my native city into the
country of my ancestors at Certaldo. It is there I am
now, half dead and restless, utterly idle and uncertain of
myself, waiting only on God, who is able to heal me. But
enough about myself.

" The sight and the reading of your letter having re-
newed my sorrow, I wept anew almost all night long. It
is not Petrarch for whom I weep, for in recalling his
integrity, his way of life, his youth, his old age, his
prayers, his innate piety, his love of God and of his neigh-
bour, I am assured that, delivered from the anguish of this
miserable life, he has flown away to the heavenly Father,
where he joys in Christ and the glory everlasting ; it is for
myself I weep and for his friends left in this tempestuous
world like ships without rudders, driven by the winds and
the waves into the midst of rocks. And in considering
thus the innumerable agitations of my soul, I can easily
divine what are your feelings and those of Tullia, my dear
sister and your wife, whom I will always honour. I am
sure you must feel a still keener bitterness than I . . . but
this you know too if you are wise, as I believe you to be,
that we are all born to die. Our Silvanus has done what
we shall do too in a little while. He is dead who was full
of years. What do I say ? He is not dead, but he has
gone before us. Seated among the just, he pities our
miseries, praying the Father of Mercy that He will give us
strength to combat our faults during our pilgrimage ; that
when death comes He will give us a perfect end pleasing
to Him ; and that notwithstanding the snares of our
adversary, He will lead us to Himself. I will say no
more, for, as you will think I am sure, those who love this
great man ought not only to cease from weeping, but to
think only of the joy and hope of their coming salvation.
I pray you then, in the name of your fidelity and of our
friendship, offer this consolation to Tullia. For women
are less able to support such shocks as this than we, and

28*

BOCCACCIO'S HOUSE IN CERTALIKD

13751 ILLNESS AND DEATH 285

have therefore need of the firmer stay of men. But you
have without doubt already done so.

"You say that he has ended his days at the village of
Arqua in the contado of Padua ; that he wished his
ashes to remain always in that village, and that, to com-
memorate him for ever, a rich and splendid tomb is there
to be built. iUas, I admit my crime, if it can be called
a crime. I who am a Florentine grudge Arqua this shin-
ing good fortune that has befallen her rather through his
humility than through her merit : the guardianship of the
body of the man whose soul has been the favourite dwelling-
place of the Muses and of all Helicon, the sanctuary of
philosophy, the splendid ornament of the liberal arts, — of
the man who above all others was possessed of Ciceronian
eloquence as his writings show, has been confided to her.
It follows that not only Arqua, almost unknown even to
the Paduans, will now be known by all foreign nations
however far off, but that her name will be held in honour
by the whole universe. One will honour thee, Arqua, as,
without seeing them, we honour in our thoughts the hill
of Posilipo, at the foot of which are placed the bones of
Virgil ; . . . and Smyrna, where Homer sleeps, and other
like places. ... I do not doubt that the sailor returning
laden with riches from the farthest shores of the sea, sail-
ing the Adriatic and seeing afar the venerable summits of
the Euganean Hills, will say to himself or to his friends :
' Those hills guard in their breast the glory of the uni-
verse, him who was once the triumph of all knowledge,
Petrarch the poet of sweet words, who by the Consular
Senate was crowned in the Mother City with the laurel of
triumph, and whose many beautiful works still proclaim
his inviolable renown.' The black Indian, the fierce
Spaniard . . . seized with admiration for this sacred name,
will one day come and before the tomb of so great a man
salute with respect and piety the ashes which it holds,
complaining the while of their misfortune that they should

286 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

['373-

not have seen him living whom dead they visit. Alas, my
unhappy city, to whom it has not been given to guard the
ashes of so illustrious a son, to whom so splendid a glory
has been refused, it is true that thou art unworthy of such
an honour, thou hast neglected to draw him to thee when
he was alive and to give him that place in thy heart
which he merited. Ah, had he been an artisan of crimes,
a contriver of treasons, a past master in avarice, envy, and
ingratitude, thou wouldst have called him to thee. Yet
even as thou art I should prefer that this honour had been
accorded thee rather than Arqua. But it is thus is justi-
fied the old saying, ' A prophet is not without honour save
in his own country.' For he always knew how to avoid it,
that he might imitate Christ his Master and Redeemer in
humility, Who preferred to be born according to the flesh
at Nazareth rather than at Jerusalem, and Who loved
better to have for mother a poor virgin who was holy than
the most proud and powerful queens of His time. And so,
since God has wished it, let the name of Arqua live
through the centuries and let her inhabitants preserve
always an honour for which they should indeed be
thankful.

" But I am glad that a tomb is to be erected, for the
splendour of his name and the magnificence of his works
render him worthy of it. It is very probable, however,
that it will seem of little importance to the eyes of the
learned, who consider rather the qualities of the dead
than the honours done to their bodies, to whom he has
manifested himself in many volumes, outshining the sun.
But that tomb will be a means of impressing the ignorant,
whose books are sculptures and paintings. . . .

" As for his generosity towards his friends and to
myself, I cannot briefly tell it over, and so I leave it for
another time, should it offer, contenting myself for the
moment with these words. I have known by his many
benefits towards me in time past how much he loved me

1375] ILLNESS AND DEATH 287

while he lived. I see now by his actions1 that his friendship
has followed me even in his death, and unless in a better
life after this passage that we call death one loses one's
friends, I think he will love me still. He will love me not
because I have merited it, but because he is always faithful
to him whom he has once adopted for his own, and I have
been his during forty years and more.2 And now, when
he can no longer show his affection by words or by
writings, he has wished to number me among his heirs,
so you write me, leaving me a very ample portion of his
wealth. How happy I am, and how I rejoice that he has
acted as he has done, but I regret to be forced to come so
soon into possession of his legacy that I shall accept with
joy. I should like better to see him live and to be de-
prived of his gift ; but this is a pious wish, and in thanking
you for your affection I accept as the supreme gift and
legacy of his kindness what you sent me some days ago.

"This letter should have finished there, but friendship
constrains me to add something more. I should have
learned with pleasure what has been done with the library
— so very precious as it is — of this illustrious man, for with
us opinion is divided. But what worries me most is to
know what is become of the works he composed, and
especially his Africa, which I consider as an inspired
work. Does it still exist, and will it be preserved, or has
it been burned, as when he was alive you know well this
severe critic of his own work threatened ? I learn that
the examination of this work and of others has been
confided, by I know not whom, to certain persons. I am
astonished at the ignorance of him who has had the
management of this affair, but still more do I wonder at
the temerity and lightness of those who have undertaken

1 This refers doubtless to Petrarch's Will, by which he left Boccaccio fifty
florins of gold with which to buy a warm cloak to cover himself in the nights
of study.

2 This is hard to explain. So far as we know, Boccaccio first met Petrarch
in 1350 in Florence, but see supra, p. 153, n. 2.

288 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1373-

the examination. Who would dare to criticise what our
illustrious master has approved? Not Cicero himself, if
he returned, nor Horace, nor Virgil, would dare to do so.
Alas, I fear that this examination has been confided to
the jurists, who because they know law, just those by
which they impudently live, imagine they know every-
thing. I pray God that He take notice of it, and that He
protect the poems and other sacred inventions of our
master. Let me hear if the cause is yet submitted to
these judges, and if those who desire can approach these
men. Tell me too what is become of the other works, and
especially of the book of the Trionft, which, according to
some, has been burnt on the advice of the judges . . .
than whom learning has no more ignorant enemies.
Besides, I know how many envies still attack the reputa-
tion of this most eminent man. Certainly, if they can,
they will spoil his works, they will hide them, they will
condemn them ; they do not understand, and they will
make every effort that they may be lost to us. Prevent this
with all your vigilance, for the best men now and in the
future of Italy will be deprived of a great advantage if all
these works remain at the mercy of the ignorant and
the envious. . . .

" I have finished this letter at Certaldo, the 7th Novem-
ber,1 and as you see, I cannot say I have written in haste,
I have taken almost three whole days to write this short
epistle, with a few intervals to allow me to rest my ex-
hausted body.

" Your Giovanni Boccaccio, if he still exists."

That letter was in truth his swan song. In the pre-
vious August he had made his Will,2 and lonely in the
dark house in Certaldo,3 he had little else to do than to

1 " Scribendi finis Certaldi datus tertiononas novembris."

2 See Appendix V.

3 Cf. Rossellini, Delia casa di G. B. in Certaldo in Antologia (1825),
n. lix.

1375] ILLNESS AND DEATH 289

pray "the Father of Mercy to lead him to Himself." In
those last months, at any rate, he seems to have given
himself up almost with passion to religious contemplation.
He who had been so scornful of relics filled his house with
them, eagerly collecting them whenever he could in spite
of his poverty.1 He seems too to have consoled himself,
as many another has done, with the perfect beauty of the
Divine Office, for a Breviary was among his books, and is
named in his Will. That is almost all we know or may
conjecture concerning those last days, which he passed,
it seems, almost in solitude2 on that hill of Certaldo — a
magician, as was said of Virgil and Ovid by the folk of
Naples and Sulmona, knowing all the secrets of Nature.

Infirm and ill as he was, he must often have looked from
his room over the world that lay there as fair as any in
Tuscany, a land of hills about a quiet valley where the
olives are tossed to silver in the wind, and the grapes are
kissed by the sun into gold and purple, where the corn
whispers between the vines — till for him too at last the

1 He leaves to the Friars of Santa Maria di Santo Sepolchro dal
Pogetto or della Campora outside the walls of Florence " all and singular
Holy Relics which the said dominus Johannes in a great while and with
much labour has procured from divers parts of the world." (S. Maria della
Campora is outside the Porta Romana of Florence ; there are still frescoes of
the school of Giotto there.) To the church of S. Jacopo of Certaldo he
leaves an alabaster plaque of the Blessed Virgin, a chasuble, stole, and
maniple of red silk, and a small altar pallium of red Lucca cloth, an altar
cushion of the same cloth, and three cases for corporals ; a vase of pewter for
holy water, and a small cloak of yellow silk and cloth. He leaves a diptych
in which is painted on the one side Our Lady with her Son in her arms and
on the other a skull to Madonna Sandra, "who to-day is wife of Franciesco
di Lapo Buonamichi." This extraordinary collection of things, which would
only be in place in the house of a priest one might think, leads us to ask whether
Boccaccio had received any Order. We cannot answer. Suares says he saw
a papal bull that permitted him to receive Holy Orders in spite of his illegiti-
macy, and in his Will he is called "Dominus" and " Venerabilis." It is
perhaps in place to note that, like Dante and S. Francis, Boccaccio has been
claimed as a Protestant born out of due time. This amazing nonsense was
set forth in a book by one Hager, entitled Programmata III de Joanne
Boccatio veritatis evangelicce teste (Chemnic, 1765).

2 He may not have been utterly alone. In his Will he leaves to "Bruna,
daughter of the late Ciango da Montemagno, who has long been with me, the
bed she was used to sleep in at Certaldo," and other things.

2QO GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [1373-5

grasshopper was become a burden. There, on Decem-
ber 21, 1375, he died and was buried, as he had ordained
in his testament, in the church of SS. Jacopo e Filippo,
leaving, as it is said, the following verses for his epitaph : —

" Hac sub mole jacent cineres ac ossa Johannis ;
Mens sedet ante Deum mentis ornata laborum
Mortalis vitae. Genitor Bocchaccius illi ;
Patria Certaldum, studium fuit alma poesis."

There beside the quiet waters of the Elsa, which puts all
to sleep, lies the greatest story-teller in the world.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE DECAMERON

BUT we cannot leave him there. For he is not
dead, but living ; not only where, in the third
heaven, he long since has found his own Fiam-
metta and been comforted, but in this our
world also, where

" Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme."

And so for this cause, if for no other, it seemed well to
leave our consideration of his greatest work till now ;
that we might take leave of him, when we must, in turn-
ing its ever-living pages.

The greatest story-teller in the world ! Does that seem
a hard saying ? But by what other title shall we greet
the author of the Decameron, who is as secure in his im-
mortality and as great in his narrative power as the author
of the Arabian Nights, and infinitely greater in his human-
ism and influence?

The greatest work of the fourteenth century, as the
Divine Comedy had been of the thirteenth, the Decameron
sums up and reflects its period altogether impersonally,
while the Divine Comedy would scarcely hold us at all
without the impassioned personality of Dante to inform it
everywhere with his profound life, his hatred, his love, his
judgment of this world and the next. It is strange that

291

292 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

the work which best represents the genius of Boccaccio
his humour and wide tolerance and love of mankind, shouk
in this be so opposite to all his other works in the vulgai
tongue, which are inextricably involved with his own per-
sonal affairs, his view of things, his love, his contempt, hi<
I hatred. Yet you will scarcely find him in all the hundrec
tales of the Decameron} He speaks to us there once 01
twice, as we shall see, but always outside the stories, anc
his whole treatment of the various and infinite plots, in-
cidents, and characters of his great work is as impersona.
as life itself.

The Decameron is an absolute work of art, as " detached '
as a play by Shakespeare or a portrait by Velasquez
The scheme is formal and immutable, a miracle of design
in which almost everything can be expressed. To com-
pare it with the plan of the Arabian Nights is to demon-
strate its superiority. There you have a sleepless king, tc
whom a woman tells a thousand and one stories in order
to save her life which this same king would have taken.
You have, then, but two protagonists and an anxiety
which touches but one of them, the fear of death on the
part of the woman, soon forgotten in the excitement of
the stories. In the Decameron^ on the other hand, you
have ten protagonists, three youths and seven ladies, and
the horror which is designed to set off the stories is an
universal pestilence which has already half depopulated
the city of Florence, from which they are fled away.

The mise en scene is so well known as scarcely to need
describing, for the Prologue in which it is set forth is one
of the most splendid pieces of descriptive narrative in all
literature, impressionist too in our later manner, and abso-
lutely convincing. Boccaccio evokes for us the city of

1 The title // Decameron is badly composed from two Greek words, 5&ca,
ten, and y^pa, day — ten days. Cf. Teza, La parola Decameron in Pro-
pit sptat ore (1889), II, p. 311 et sea., and Rajna, op. cit.y who shows that
the proper form is Decameron, not Decamerone. Later some one added
the sub-title "cognominato il Principe Galeotto " ; cf. Inferno, V, 137.

THE LADIES AND YOUTHS OF THE DECAMERON LEAVING FLORENCE
From a miniature in the French version of the " Decameron" made m 1414 by
Laurent le Premierfait. MS. late AT century. (Brit. Mus. Rothschild Bequest.

MS. XIV.)

THE DECAMERON 293

Florence in the grip of the Black Death of 1348. We see
the streets quite deserted or horrible with the dead, and
over all a dreadful silence broken only by the more dread-
ful laughter of those whom the plague has freed from all
human constraint. Fear has seized upon such of the
living as death has not driven mad, " wherefore the sick of
both sexes, whose number could not be estimated, were
left without resource but in the charity of friends (and few
such there were), or the interest of servants, who were
hardly to be had at high rates and on unseemly terms, and
being moreover men and women of gross understanding
and for the most part unused to such offices, concerned
themselves no further than to supply the immediate and
expressed wants of the sick and to watch them die, in
which service they themselves not seldom perished with
their gains. \In consequence of which dearth of servants
and dereliction of the sick by neighbours, kinsfolk, and
friends, it came to pass — a thing perhaps never before
heard of — that no woman, however dainty, fair, or well
born she might be, shrank, when stricken with the disease,
from the attentions of a man, no matter whether he were
young or no, or scrupled to expose to him every part of
her body with no more shame than if he had been a
woman, submitting of necessity to that which her malady
required ; wherefrom, perchance, there resulted in after
time some loss of modesty in such as recovered. . ?J
What need we add, but that such and so grievous was the
harshness of heaven, and perhaps in some degree of man,
that, what with the fury of the pestilence, the panic of
those whom it spared and their consequent neglect or
desertion of not a few of the stricken in their need, it is
believed without any manner of doubt, that between
March and the ensuing July upwards of a hundred
thousand human beings lost their lives within the walls of
the city of Florence, which before the deadly visitation
would not have been supposed to contain so many people !

294 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

How many grand palaces, how many stately homes, how
many splendid houses once full of retainers, of lords, of
ladies, were now left desolate of all, even to the meanest
servant ! . . .

" Irksome it is to myself to rehearse in detail so
mournful a history. Wherefore, being minded to pass
over so much thereof as I fairly can, I say that our city
being thus depopulated, it so happened, as I afterwards
learned from one of credit, that on Tuesday morning after
Divine service the venerable church of Santa Maria Novella
was almost deserted save for the presence of seven young
ladies, habited sadly, in keeping with the season. . . . The
first, being the eldest of the seven, we will call Pampinea,
the second Fiammetta, the third Filomena, the fourth
Emilia, the fifth we will distinguish as Lauretta, the sixth
as Neifile, and the last, not without reason, shall be named
Elisa. 'Twas not of set purpose but by mere chance that
these ladies met in the same part of the church, but at
length, grouping themselves into a sort of circle, . . . they
gave up saying paternosters and began to converse (among
other topics) on the times. . . . Here we tarry (said Pam-
pinea) as if one thinks for no other purpose than to bear
witness to the number of corpses that are brought hither
for interment. ... If we quit the church we see dead
or sick folk carried about, or we see those who for their
crimes were of late exiled, . . . but who now in contempt
of the law, well knowing its ministers are sick or dead,
have returned. . . . Nor hear we aught but : Such and
such are dead. . . . Such and such are dying. ... Or go
we home, what see we there ? I know not if you are in
like case with me ; but there where once were servants in
plenty I find none left but my maid and shudder with
terror. . . . And ftirn or tarry where I may, I encounter
only the ghosts of the departed, not with their wonted
mien but with something horrible in their aspect that
appals me. ... So (she continues) I should deem it most

THE DECAMERON 295

wise in us, our case being what it is, if, as many others
have done before us and are doing now, we were to quit
the place, and shunning like death the evil example of
others, betake ourselves to the country and there live as
honourable women on one of the estates of which none of
us has any lack, with all cheer of festal gathering and
other delights so long as in no particular we overstep the
bounds jpf reason. There we shall hear the chant of birds,
have sight of green hills and plains, of cornfields un-
dulating like the sea, of trees of a thousand sorts ; there
also we shall have a larger view of the heavens, which,
however harsh to usward, yet deny not their eternal
beauty ; things fairer far for eyes to rest on than the deso-
late walls of our city. . . . For though the husbandmen
die there even as here the citizens, they are dispersed in
scattered homes, and so 'tis less painful to witness. Nor,
so far as I can see, is there a soul here whom we shall de-
sert ; rather we may truly say that we are ourselves
deserted. . . . No censure then can fall on us if we do as
I propose ; and otherwise grievous suffering, perhaps
death, may ensue."

Pampinea's plan was received with eagerness, and while
they were still discussing it there came into the church
three young men, Pamfilo, Filostrato, and Dioneo, the
youngest about twenty-five years of age. These seemed
to the ladies to be sent by Providence, for their only fear
till now had been in carrying out their plans alone. So
Pampinea, who had a kinsman among them, approached
them, and greeting them gaily, opened her plan, and
besought them on behalf of herself and her friends to
join their company. The young men as soon as they
found she was in earnest answered with alacrity that they
were ready, and promptly before leaving the church set
matters in train for their departure, and the next day at
dawn they set out. Arrived at the estate they entered a
beautiful palace in the midst of a garden, and again it was

296 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

Pampinea who proposed that one among them should be
elected chief for a day so that each might be in turn in
authority. They at once chose Pampinea, whom Filomena
crowned with bay leaves. Later, towards evening, they
" hied them to a meadow . . . and at the queen's com-
mand ranged themselves in a circle on the grass and
hearkened while she spoke thus : ' You mark that the sun
is yet high, the heat intense, and the silence unbroken
save by the cicale among the olives. It were therefore
the height of folly to quit this spot at present. Here the
air is cool, and the prospect fair, and here, observe, are
dice and chess. Take then your pleasure as you will ;
but if you hear my advice you will find pastime for the
hot hours before us, not in play in which "the loser must
needs be vexed, . . . but in telling stories in which the
invention of one may afford solace to all the company
of his hearers.' "

This was found pleasing to all, and so Pampinea turned
at last to Pamfilo, who sat at her right hand, and bade him
lead off with one of his stories. So begins the series of
immortal tales which compose the Decameron}

Such, then, is the incomparable design which the De-
cameron fills, beside which the mere haphazard telling of
The Hundred Merry Tales seems barbarous, the setting
of The Thousand and One Nights inadequate. That
Boccaccio's design has indeed ever been bettered might
well be denied, but in The Canterbury Tales Chaucer
certainly equalled it. If the occasion there is not so
dramatic nor the surroundings at once so poignant and
so beautiful, the pilgrimage progresses with the tales and
allows of such a dramatic entry as that of the Canon
and the Canon's yeoman at Boghton-under-Blee. That

V ^ 1 Cf. Albertazzi, / novcllatori e le novellatrici del Dec. in Farvenze e

Sembianze (Bologna, 1892) ; GEBHART, Le prologue du Dec. et la Renaissance
in Conteurs Florentins (Hachette, 1901), p. 65 et seq. ; Morini, II prologo
del Dec. in Rivista Pol. e Lett.^ xvi. 3.

'0 c

f ^ * A

THE DECAMERON 297

entry was most fitting and opportune, right in every way,
and though there is no inherent reason why the De-
cameron itself should not have been similarly broken in
upon, the very stillness of that garden in the sunshine
would have made any such interruption less acceptable.1
The true weakness of the Decameron in comparison
with that of the Canterbury Tales is not a weakness
of design but of character. Each of Chaucer's pilgrims
is a complete human being ; they all ljve for us more
vividly than any other folk, real or imagined, of the four-
teenth century in England, and each is different from
the rest, a perfect human character and personality.
But in the protagonists of the Decameron it is not so.
There is nothing, or almost nothing, to choose between
them. Pampinea is not different from Filomena,2 and
may even be confused with Pamfilo or Filostrato. We
know nothing of them ; they are without any character
or personality, and indeed the only one of them all who
stands out in any way is Dioneo, and that merely because
he may usually be depended upon for the most licentious
tale of the day.3 In Chaucer the tales often weary us, but
the tellers never do; in Boccaccio the tales never weary
us, but the tellers always do. Just there we come upon j
the fundamental difference between English and what I
may call perhaps Latin art. It is the same to-day as
yesterday. In the work of D'Annunzio, as in the work
of the French novelists of our time, it is always an affair
of situation, that is to say, the narrative or drama rises

1 The only interruption of the Decameron, if so it can be called, is the
introduction of Tindaro and Licisca at the beginning of the sixth day. The
diversion, however, has very little consequence.

2 A few things we may gather, however. Pampinea was the eldest
(Proem), and by inference Elisa the youngest. Some of the ladies were of
Ghibelline stock (X, 8). For what life ingenuity can find in them, see
Hauvktte, Les Ballades du Decameron in Journal des Savants (Paris,
September, 1905), p. 489 et sea.

3 He also tells two of the best tales in the book, that of Fra Cipolla and
the Relics (VI, 10), and of the Patient Griselda (X, 10). These are the
only stories he tells which are not licentious.

'•

298 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

out of the situation, rather than out of the character of
the actors, while even in the most worthless English work
there is, as there has always been, an attempt at least to
realise character, to make it the fundamental thing in the
book, from which the narrative proceeds and by which it
lives and is governed.

In dealing with the Decameron, then, we must, more or
less, leave the narrators themselves out of the question ;
they are not to be judged ; they are but an excuse for the
stories, and are really puppets who can in no way be held
responsible for them, so that if now and then an especially
licentious tale is told by one of those " virtuous * ladies, it
is of no account, for the tales are altogether independent
of those who tell them. *j But if these young and fair
protagonists soon pass from our remembrance in the in-
finitely vivid and living stories they tell, yes, almost like
a phonograph, the setting, the background of a plague-
stricken and deserted city, the beauty and languorous
peace of the delicious gardens in which we listen, always
remain with us, so much so that tradition has identified
the two palaces which are the setting of the whole
Decameron with two of those villas which are the glory of
the Florentine contado.

The first of these palaces — that to which they came on
that Wednesday morning — was, Boccaccio tells us, not
more than " two short miles from the city." There " on
the brow of the hill was a palace, with a fine and spacious
courtyard in the midst, and with loggias and halls and
rooms, all and each one in itself beautiful and ornamented
tastefully with jocund paintings. It was surrounded too
with grass plots and marvellous gardens, and with wells of
coldest water, and there were cellars of rare wines, a thing
perhaps more suited to curious topers than to quiet and
virtuous ladies. And the palace was clean and in good
order, the beds prepared and made, and everything
decorated with spring flowers, and the floors covered with

^■imM

"'Ssfea:-. ■'■

k &^

By permission of Mrs. Ross
POGGIO GHERARDO, NEAR SETTIGNANO, FLORENCE
< The scene of the first two days of the " Decameron")

THE DECAMERON 299

rushes, all much to their satisfaction." This " estate " has
always been identified with Poggio Gherardo,1 which now
stands above the road to Settignano, about a mile from
that village and some two miles from the Porta alle Croce
of Florence. In the fourteenth century certainly it must
have been equi-distant on all sides from the roads, the
nearest being the Via Aretina Nuova by the Arno and the
road to Fiesole or the Via Faentina, for the way from
Florence to Settignano was a mule-track.

Poggio Gherardo is but a stone's throw from Corbignano,
the country house — half farm, half villa — which Margherita
brought to Boccaccino as part of her dowry, and where, as
we have seen, it appears likely that Boccaccio spent his
first youth. But Poggio Gherardo is not the only palace
of the Decameron. At the close of the second day
Madonna Filomena took the laurel crown from her head
and crowned Neifile queen, and it was she who then pro-
posed that they should change their residence.

" To-morrow, as you know," said she, " is Friday, and
the next day is Saturday, and both are days which are
apt to be tedious to most of us on account of the kind of
food we take on them ; and then Friday was the day on
which He who died that we might live suffered His
Passion, and it is therefore worthy of reverence, and ought,
as I think, to be spent rather in prayer than in telling tales.
And on Saturday it is the custom for women to wash the
powder out of their hair, and make themselves generally
sweet and neat ; also they use to fast out of reverence
for the Virgin Mother of God, and in honour of the

1 See Mancini, Poggio Gherardo, primo ricetto alle novellatrici del £.,
frammento di R. Gherardo, etc. (Firenze, 1858) ; and Florentine Villas
(Dent, 1901), by Janet Ross, p. 131. Mrs. Ross owns Poggio Gherardo
to-day. Mr. J. M. Rigg denies that Poggio Gherardo is the place, but gives
no reasons save that it does not tally with the description, which is both
true and untrue. It tallies as well as it could do after more than five
hundred years ; and perfectly as regards situation and distance from the
city and the old roads. Cf. my Country Walks about Florence (Methuen,
1908), cap. i.

3oo GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

coming rest from any and every work. Therefore, since
we cannot, on that day either, carry out our established
order of life, I think it would be well to refrain from
reciting tales also. And as by then we shall have been
here already four days, I think we might seek a new place
if we would avoid visitors ; and indeed I have already a
spot in my mind."

And it happened as she said, for they all praised her
words and looked forward longingly to Sunday.

On that very day the sun was already high when,
" with slow steps, the queen with her friends and the three
gentlemen, led by the songs of some twenty nightingales,
took her way westward by an unfrequented lane full of
green herbs and flowers just opening after the dawn. So,
gossiping and playing and laughing with her company,
she led them ... to a beautiful and splendid palace
before half of the third hour was gone." It is by this
"unfrequented lane" that we too may pass to the Villa
Palmieri,1 which tradition assures us is the very place.
" When they had entered and inspected everything, and
seen that the halls and rooms had been cleaned and
decorated and plentifully supplied with all that was needed
for sweet living, they praised its beauty and good order,
and admired the owner's magnificence. And on descend-
ing, even more delighted were they with the pleasant and
spacious courts, the cellars filled with choice wines, and
the beautifully fresh water which was everywhere round
about. Then they went into the garden, which was on
one side of the palace, and was surrounded by a wall, and

1 See my Country Walks about Florence (Methuen, 1908), pp. 23 and 26
et seq. Mr. J. M. Rigg, in the introduction to his translation of the Decameron
(Routledge, 1905), here again denies the identity of Villa Palmieri with the
second palace of the Decameron. He says it does not stand "on a low hill"
amid a plain, but on "the lower Fiesolan slope." But Boccaccio even in
Mr. Rigg's excellent translation does not say that, but "they arrived at a
palace . . . which stood sowewhat from the plain, being situate upon a low
eminence." This exactly describes Villa Palmieri, as even a casual glance
at a big map will assure us.

THE DECAMERON 301

the beauty and magnificence of it at first sight made them
eager to examine it more closely. It was crossed in all
directions by long, broad, and straight walks, over which
the vines, which that year made a great show of giving
many grapes, hung gracefully in arched festoons, and being
then in full blossom, filled the whole garden with their
sweet smell, and this, mingled with the odours of the
other flowers, made so sweet a perfume that they seemed
to be in the spicy gardens of the East. The sides of the
walks were almost closed with red and white roses and
with jessamine, so that they gave sweet odours and shade
not only in the morning, but when the sun was high, and
one might walk there all day without fear. What flowers
there were there, how various and how ordered, it would
take too long to tell, but there was not one which in our
climate is to be praised that was not found there abun-
dantly. Perhaps the most delightful thing therein was a
meadow in the midst, of the finest grass, and all so
green that it seemed almost black, all sprinkled with a
thousand various flowers, shut in by oranges and cedars,
the which bore the ripe fruit and the young fruit too
and the blossom, offering a shade most grateful to the
eyes and also a delicious perfume. In the midst of this
meadow there was a fountain of the whitest marble,
marvellously carved and within — I do not know whether
artificially or from a natural spring — threw so much water
and so high towards the sky through a statue which stood
there on a pedestal that it would not have needed more
to turn a mill. The water fell back again with a delicious
sound into the clear waters of the basin, and the surplus
was carried off through a subterranean way into little
water channels, most beautifully and artfully made about
the meadow, and afterwards it ran into others round
about, and so watered every part of the garden, and
collected at length in one place, whence it had entered
the beautiful garden, it turned two mills, much to the

302 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

profit, as you may suppose, of the signore, pouring down
at last in a stream clear and sweet into the valley."

If this should seem a mere pleasaunce of delight, the
vision of a poet, the garden of a dream, we have only to
remember how realistically and simply Boccaccio has
described for us that plague-stricken city, scarcely more
than a mile away, to be assured of its truthfulness. And
then, Villa Palmieri is nearly as beautiful to-day as it was
so long ago ; only while the gardens with their pergolas of
vines, their hedges of jasmine and crimson roses, their
carved marble fountains remain, the two mills he speaks of
are gone, having been destroyed in a flood of the Mugnone
in 1409, less than sixty years after he wrote of them.

Nor are the two palaces the only places mentioned in
the Decameron, set as it is in the country about Florence,
that we may identify. It was a summer afternoon, six
days had almost passed, Dioneo had just been crowned king
by Madonna Elisa : the tales had been short that day,
and the sun was yet high, so that Madonna, seeing the
gentlemen were set down to play at dice (and " such is the
custom of men"), called her friends to her and said: "'Ever
since we have been here I have wished to show you a place
not far off where, I believe, none of you has ever been ;
it is called_JLa_Valle delle Donne, and till to-day I have
not had a chance to speak of It. It is yet early ; if you
choose to come with me, I promise you that you will
be pleased with your walk.' And they answered they
were all willing : so without saying a word to the gentle-
men, they called one of their women to attend them, and
after a walk of nearly a mile they came to the place which
they entered by a strait path where there burst forth a fair
crystal stream, and they found it so beautiful and so
pleasant, especially in those hot still hours of afternoon,
that nothing could excel it ; and as some of them told me
later, the little plain in the valley was an exact circle, as
though it had been described by a pair of compasses,

SB-

^ ^1

fa <-,

— "v.

THE DECAMERON 303

yet it was indeed rather the work of Nature than of
man. It was about half a mile in circumference, sur-
rounded by six hills of moderate height, on each of which
was a palace built in the form of a little castle. . . . And
then what gave them the greatest delight was the rivulet
that came through a valley which divided two hills, and
running through the rocks fell suddenly and sweetly
in a waterfall seeming, as it was dashed and sprinkled
in drops all about, like so much quicksilver. Coming into
the little plain beneath this fall, the stream was received in
a fine canal, and running swiftly to the midst of the plain
formed itself in a pool not deeper than a man's breast
and so clear that you might see the gravelly bottom and
the pebbles intermixed, which indeed you might count ;
and there were fishes there also swimming up and down
in great plenty ; and the water that overflowed was re-
ceived into another little canal which carried it out of the
valley. There the ladies all came together, and . . . find-
ing it commendable . . . did, as 'twas very hot and they
deemed themselves secure from observation, resolve to take
a bath. So having bidden their maid wait and keep watch
over the access to the vale, and give them warning if haply
any should approach it, they all seven undressed and got
into the water, which to the whiteness of their flesh was
even such a veil as fine glass is to the vermeil of the rose.1
They being then in the water, the clearness of which was
thereby in no wise affected, did presently begin to go hither
and thither after the fish, which had much ado where to
bestow themselves so as to escape out of their hands. . . .
'Twas quite early when they returned to the palace, so that
they found the gallants still at play."

This delicious spot, called to this day the Valle delle
Donne,2 may be reached from the " unfrequented lane " .

1 No doubt a vivid reminiscence of Madonna Fiammetta at Baia.

2 See my Country Walks about Florence (Methuen, 190^), p. 23 et seq.
The place has been drained to-day, and is now a garden of vines and

d4 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

y which they all passed from Poggio Gherardo to Villa
'almieri ; as Landor, who lived close by, tells us: —

" Where the hewn rocks of Fiesole impend
O'er Doccia's dell, and fig and olive blend,
There the twin streams of Affrico unite,
One dimly seen, the other out of sight,
But ever playing in his swollen bed
Of polisht stone and willing to be led
Where clustering vines protect him from the sun —
Here by the lake Boccaccio's fair brigade
Bathed in the stream and tale for tale repaid."

The hundred tales that were thus told in the shade of
those two beautiful gardens may doubtless be traced to an
infinite number of sources — Egyptian, Arabian, Persian,
and French ; * but these origins matter little. Boccaccio
was almost certainly unaware of them, for the most part at
any rate, gathering his material as he did from the tales he
had heard, up and down Italy. Certainly to the Contes and
Fabliaux of Northern France a third part of the Decameron
may be traced, much too to Indian and Persian sources,
and a little to the Gesta Romanorum. But one might as
well accuse Chaucer or Shakespeare of a want of originality
because they took what they wanted where they found it,
as arraign Boccaccio for a dependence he was quite un-
aware of on sources such as these.2 He has made the
tales his own. , The Decameron is a work of art, a world in
. itself, and its effect upon us who read it is the effect of
life which includes, for its own good, things moral and
immoral. The book has the variety of the 'world, and .
is full of an infinity of. people, who represent for us the
fourteenth century in Italy, in all its fullness, almost.3

olives in the fodere of Villa Ciliegio belonging to A. W. Benn, Esq., whose
kindness and courtesy in permitting me to see the place I wish here to
acknowledge.

1 Cf. Manni, Istoria del Decameronc (Firenze, 1742) ; Bartoli, I precursi
del B. (Firenze, 1876) ; Landau, Die Qwlleit des Dekam. (Stuttgart, 18S4) ;
Cappellktti, Osserv. c notiz. sidle fonti del Deram. (Livorno, 1891).

'-' No doubt most of these stories were current up and down Italy.

1 As with Shakespeare so with Boccaccio, the religious temperament is not j
represented. '

THE DECAMERON

It_ deals with man asjife does, never taking him
seriously, QLjyjthout a certain lndirierence^jT^e^ain iron
arro^lau^hte-r>-^eTltr"is lull too of a love of courtes
luck,' 'of all sorts of adventures, both gallant and sa
details, at any rate, it is true and even realistic, crammed
with observation of those customs and types which made
up the life of the time. It is dramatic, ironic, comic, tragic,
philosophic, and even lyrical ; full of indulgence for human
error, %n absolutely human book beyond any work of
Dante's or Petrarch's or Froissart's. Even Chaucer is not
so complete in his humanism, his love of all sorts and
conditions of men. Perfect in organism, in construction,
and in freedom, each of these tales is in some sort a living
part of life and a criticism of it. Almost any one could
be treated by a modern writer in his own way, and remain
fundamentally the same and fundamentally true. What
immorality there is, might seem owing rather to the
French sources of some of the tales than to any invention
on the part of Boccaccio, who, as we have seen, later came
to deplore it. But we must remember that the book was
written to give delight to "amorous" women, and women
have always delightedjn/' immoral literature^and in fact jj>>
wliteln^FofitJto^daj^ Yet only a Puritan, and he foul-9 ^ ,J\
mindeHTcould call the Decameron vicious, for it is purified y
with an immortal laughter and joy. ^

But it is in its extraordinary variejy_piLcontcntG and—
.character that the Decameron is chiefly remarkable. We

are involved in a multitude of adventures, are introduced

to innumerable people of every class, and each class .shows
t:s its most characteristic qualities. Such is Boccaccio's
art, for the stories were noT originally, or even as they are,
ostensibly studies of character at all, but rather anecdotes,
tales of adventure, stories of illicit love, good stories about

1 Pinelli, La moralita nel Decam. in Propugnatorc (1882), xv and
rvi ; also Dejob, A propos de lapartie homiete dn Decam. in Revue Universi-
taire (July 15, 1900).

3o6 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

the friars and the clergy and women, told for amusement
because they are full of laughter and are witty, or contain!
a brief and ready reply with which one has rebuked*
another or saved himself from danger. But I have given!
the subjects of the stories of the Decameron elsewhere.1!
Whatever they may be, and they are often of the best, on
the most universal, they are not, for the real lover of the!
Decameron, the true reason why he goes to it always with]
the certainty of a new joy. The book is full of^people, on
living people, that is the secret of 7ts~Tm mortality. Fral
CipoTIa^'whom I e^eclalrjTlov^X^landririo, whom I seerrtf
always to have known, poor Monna Tezza, his wife, whom
at last he so outrageously gives away, Griselda, Cisti, the
Florentine baker, the joyous Madonna Filippa, or Monnai
Belcolore should be as dear to us as any character in any!
book not by Shakespeare himself. They live for even

And yet it must be confessed that while the bookjs aj
mirror of the world, and doubtless as true to the life of its -
time as any~book~ that was ever written, it lanksji certain
idealism, a certain moral sense which is never absent froml
English work, and which, even from a purely aesthetic 1
point of view, would have given a sort of balance or sense!
of proportion to the book, which, I confess, in my weaker,
moments, it has sometimes seemed to me it lacks.

It is true that Boccaccio deals^with life and with lie
alone. It is true that life then as new made little >f
sexual morality. But with Boccaccio, as_with almost"" ■
Latin art, sexual immorality usurps, or seems to us o-j
usurp, a place out of all proportion to its importance t&
life. One is not always thinking of one's neTgKboul
wife, even though one should have the misfortune 0-
affect her. Yet it is just there that Boccaccio's cone
genius is seen at its best ; it is his most frequent thenu
And just there too we come upon the unreality of tri
most real book. His spose are all beautiful youngjgomji

1 See Appendix VIII, p. 367 et seg.

3®(y

THE DECAMERON 3cp,q

who live in the arms of beautiful youths ; they^are nearly
all adulteresses ; Griselda, indeed, might seem to be the
only^Tafthful wife among them. Consider, then, the wife .
o{ Pietro di Vincolo,1 who sells herself fresh and lpyely_as
she is. Consider the pretty PruneTfa the Neapolitan, who
abandons herself voluptuously in her husband's presence
to Gianello Galeone.2 She, like the rest, is not only
without regret, but without scruple. They all have this
extraordinary— asTuFeness, .^EEis^eadiness of the devil.
There is Sismonda, the wife of the rich merchant Arri-
guccio Berlinghieri.3 There is Isabella, who loved Leonetto,
and Monna Beatrice, who to her adultery adds contempt
of her husband, when, victorious at last, trembling with
voluptuousness, she kisses and re-kisses " the sweet
mouth" of the happy and delighted Lodovico.4 Nor is
she by any means alone, they are all her sisters. Lydia5
is even more wily, Bartolommea more shameless.6

And if the women are thus joyful, lustful, and cunning,
the husbands are fools. Yet Boccaccio knows well how
to draw the honest peasant, the hard-working artisan, the
persistent and adventurous merchant, and a harder thing
— the man of good society, such as Federigo degli
Alberighi,7 when he will.

What he cannot do is to compose a tragedy ; he has
not a sufficiently virile moral sense for it, and so just
there he fails with the rest of his Latin brethren. But as
a writer of comedy he is one of the greatest masters ;
and as a master of comedy he was in some degree at the
mercy both of it and of his audience. This may excuse
him perhaps for his too persistent stories about adulteries.
The deceived husband was always a comic figure ; he
probably always will be. This being granted, we shall not
judge the women of Boccaccio's time by his tales, and it

1 Decameron, V, io. 2 Ibid., VII, 2. 3 Ibid., VII, 8.

4 Ibid., VII, 7. 5 Ibid., VII, 9. fl Ibid., II, 10.

7 Ibid., V, 9.

08 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

might seem that we should discount in the same way his
stories about the clergy. Like every other comic master,
he naturally finds some of his choicest material among
them, who always have been, are now, and ever will be a
never-failing source of amusement. But here we must go
warily, for 'Boccaccio's treatment of the clergy might
almost be said to exhaust what little moral indignation he
was possessed of. " I have spoken the truth about the
friars," he tells us with an immense relief in the conclusion
to his work, and if he had not time, courage, or oppor-
tunity to tell us the truth about the monks, the nuns, and
the secular clergy, he has left us, it must be confessed,
some very remarkable evidence. His whole attitude of
attack is different when he exposes the clergy ; moreover,
while we have no evidence at all in support of his supposed
representation of the married woman as universally adul-
terous— and it may be questioned whether it was his inten-
tion to leave us with any such impression — we have ample
evidence from the best possible sources of the frightful
wickedness, immorality, and general rottenness of the
clergy, both religious and secular, monks, friars^ nuns,
and priests, , We have only to consult the pages of S.
Catherine or Siena1 to find every separate accusation
of Boccaccio's confirmed ten times over, with a hundred
others added to them which he has failed to bring forward.
Nor is it only in the mouth of S. Catherine that Boccaccio
is justified. Grosseteste, Bishop of Lincoln, had long ago

1 But we must be careful of our edition if we read her only in English.
Some time since Mr. Algar Thorold published a fine translation of The
Dialogue of S. Catherine of Siena (Kegan Paul), and here all the evidence
needed can be found. But of late a "new edition" (1907) has appeared
with the respectable "imprimatur" of the Catholic authorities, but all the
evidence against the clergy has been omitted, probably to obtain the "im-
primatur." See inf?-a> p. 310, n. 1. S. Catherine's impeachment of the
clergy will be found in the section of her book called // Trattato delle
Lagrime. A summary of the evidence will be found in Mr. E. G. Gardner's
excellent S. Catherine of Siena (Dent, 1907), p. 361 ct sea. Mr. Gardner adds
that "the student . . . is compelled to face the fact that the testimony of
Boccaccio's Decameron is confirmed by the burning words of a great saint/"

THE DECAMERON 309

I informed Innocent IV that the Curia was the source of all

* that vileness which rendered the priesthood a reproach to

jj Christianity. Alexander IV himself described the cor-

\ ruption of the people as proceeding from the clergy.

I What this had become after the Black Death we know

not only from Boccaccio, Petrarch, and S. Catherine, but

from every writer of the time. The Church was rotten to

the core, she seemed about to sink for ever into the pit

of her abominations. Consider, then, what such a beast

as the priest of Varlungo must have been in a village ;

\ consider the rector of Fiesole. Is Boccaccio's irony too

bitter ? Is it any wonder that Monna Belcolore answers

the wolf of Varlungo, " There is never a one of you priests

- but would overreach the very devil."

As for the friars, we should not recognise in any one of

; them the brother of S. Francis or S. Dominic. Consider

: them then: Fra Cipolla1 is a lovely rogue of the best; who

: more cunning than Fra Alberto da Imola;2 who more

j eagerly wily than Fra Rinaldo ;° who more goat-like and

concupiscent than Fra Rustico ? The only son of S.

Francis illumined with light and piety is the confessor of

Ser Ciappelletto,4 and he has no name, and is, I fear,

quickly forgotten.

Nor have we better news of the nuns5 or the monks,6

and indeed, so far as the clergy are concerned, the

I Decameron is as eager in its attack on wickedness as the

Divine Comedy itself, though its justice is tempered with

kindness and its scorn with a sort of pity, a sort of

understanding. — -

And indeed, if we compare the book with that of
Dante, a much greater man, it holds its own because
of its humanity. LX)ante puts the centre of gravity into
the next world. He hates this world almost without ceas-

1 Decameron, VI, 10. 2 Ibid., VI, 2.

3 Ibid., VII, 3. « Ibid., I, 1.

5 Ibid., Ill, 1 ; IX, 2. « Ibid., Ill, 4.

310 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

ing, and has dared to arraign it before his hatred. His
satire is cruel, unjust, intolerant, and vindictive. Of
course we are wont to excuse all this on account of the
genius which it expressed, of its sincerity and beauty of
form. Boccaccio, however, with less than half Dante's
genius, was not subject to his madness. He was content
to satirise what is bad, the bad customs of ecclesiastics
and of fools ; but he excuses and pardons all too because
of the "misfortunes of the time," and above all he under-
stands. \

But it we may not compare the Decameron, the Human
Comedy, with the Divine Comedy of Dante as a work of
art, we may claim for it that it was the greatest though
not quite the first prose work in the Tuscan tongue. But
Italian prose may be said to consist of the Decameron alone
for a hundred years after Boccaccio's death. It is written
in a very beautiful but very complicated style, a sort of
poetical prose — exquisite, it is true, but often without sim-
plicity. Yet who will dare to attack it? It has justified
itself, if need be, as every great work has done, by its
appeal to mankind, its utter indifference to criticism.

That the Decameron, though widely read and enthusi-
astically received, was censured very strongly in its own
day we gather from the Proem to the Fourth Day and
from the Conclusion to the work; while later the book did
not escape the knife of the Church, though it was never
suppressed.1 That it was enthusiastically received in its

1 Cf. BlAGi, La Rassettatura del Decamerone in Aneddoti Letterari
(Milan, 1887), p. 262 et seq., and Foscolo, Disc, sul testo del D. in Opere
(Firenze, 1850), III. The facts seem quite clear about the action of the
Church with regard to the Decameron. It was condemned by the Council of
Trent. The earliest edition of the Index Librorum Prohibitorum in which
I have found it, is that published in Rome in 1559. Since then it has
figured in every Roman edition of the Index (as far as I have tested them),
the entry against it being "Donee expurg. Ind. Trent," which means,
" Until expurgated, indexed by the Council of Trent." It appears to have
remained thus provisionally condemned and prohibited until the last years of
the nineteenth century. I find it still in the Index of 1881 ; but it no longer
figures in that of 1900. The amusing point is that the Church does not seem

THE DECAMERON 311

day we know from contemporary documents,1 and though
Petrarch failed to understand it, he praised it in certain
places, which were those, it seems, that were the most
rhetorical. He translated the last tale of Griselda into
Latin, however, but as he tells us, he had known this for
many years. Petrarca, however, stood alone ; from the
day the Decameron was finished its influence both in Italy
and abroad was very great.

The original manuscript has disappeared, and the oldest
we possess seems to be that written in 1 368 by Francesco
Mannelli, though the later Hamilton MS. now in Berlin is
the better of the two.2 More than ten editions were, how-
ever, printed in the fifteenth century, and some seventy-
seven in the sixteenth ; while there is not a Novelliere in
Italian literature for many centuries who has not inspired
himself with the Decameron. Its fortune abroad was
almost equally good. Hans Sachs, Moliere, La Fontaine,3
Lope de Vega, to mention only European names, were in
its debt ; and in England our greatest poets have drawn
from it, once the form and often the substance of their
work. One has only to name Chaucer, Sir Philip Sidney,
Shakespeare, Dryden,4 Keats,5 and Tennyson6 to suggest
England's debt to Boccaccio. And although our prose
literature, strangely enough, produced no great original
example of this school of fiction, its influence was shown

to have minded the licentiousness of the tales as such ; but to have objected

to them being told of Monks, Friars, Nuns, and the Clergy, in regard to
1 whom, as we have seen, they were merely the truth. Editions with a clerical

"imprimatur" have been always published where laymen have been sub-
stituted for these. For instance, the edition printed in Florence, 1587, "con

permissione de' superiori," etc., substitutes the avarice of magistrates for the

hypocrisy of the clergy in Dec, I, 6.

1 Cf. BiAGi, // Decameron giudicato da un contemporaneo in op. cit., p. 377
et seq.

2 Cf. Hauvette, Delia parentela esistentefra il MS. berlinese del Dec. e il
codice Mannelli in Giorn. St. d. Lett. It. (1895), XXXI, p. 162 et seq.

3 In Sylvia^ Alfred de Musset says very happily, " La Fontaine a ri dans
Boccace ou Shakespeare fondait en pleurs."

4 In his Ctmon, Sigzsmonda, and Theodore he used Nov. v. I, iv. I, and
v. 8 respectively.

5 In his Isabella (iv. 5). 6 In his Falcon (v. 9) and Golden Supper (x 4).

312 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

by the number of translations and imitations of the "mery
bookes of Italy," when, according to Ascham, " a tale of
Bocace was made more account of than a story out of
the Bible."1

In his Praise of Poets \ Thomas Churchyard, referring to
Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio, says : —

" In Italy of yore did dwell
Three men of special spreete,
Whose gallant stiles did sure excell,
Their verses were so sweet."

Of these three great Italians Dante was by far the least
known, and William Thomas, in his Dictionarie (1550)
defines "Dante Aldighieri" as "the name of a famous
poet in the Italian tongue," while he does not think it
necessary to explain who Petrarch and Boccaccio are.2
Sir Philip Sidney, it is true, refers to Dante several times,
with the other two, and even mentions Beatrice in his
Defence of Poeste, yet there is no trace of Dante's influence
in his work. The only writer after Chaucer who shows
internal evidence of knowing Dante fairly well is Sir John
Harrington, the translator of Orlando Furioso. In his
Apology of Poetry he refers to Dante's relations to Virgil,
and in the Allegorie of the fourth book of his translation
he translates the first five lines of the Inferno : —

" While yet my life was in the middle race
I found I wandered in a darksome wood,
The right way lost with mine unsteadie pace. . . .* 3

Spenser does not mention Dante though he used him ;
but in the Epistle to Gabriel Harvey prefixed to the

1 Nevertheless I think it probable that the reason the Decameron had, as a
work of art, so little influence on our prose literature may have been the
publication of King James's Bible in 1611, nine years before the complete
translation of the Decameron (1620).

2 On the other hand, though Chaucer was considerably in Boccaccio's
debt, he never mentions his name, but, as we know, he speaks of Dante and
Fetrarch.

3 Cf. Kuhns, Dante and the English Poets (New York, 1904), and Paget
Toynbke, Dante in English Literature (Methuen, 1909).

ai&

THE

Decameron

CONTAINING

An hundred pleafant
NoocU.

Wittily pfifiufi^ ixtvtcnt

tk.:tStiUGtmie-

London, Printed by

Ifaac laggard,
1610.

TITLK-PAGE OF TI1K SECOND VOLUME OF THE FIRST ENGLISH
TRANSLATION OF THE "DECAMERON." (ISAAC JAGGARD, 1620)

THE DECAMERON 313

Shepherds Calendar he speaks of Boccaccio as well as of
Petrarch and others.

That Boccaccio was well known in England, at least by
name, in the fourteenth century, seems certain. Sacchetti
(1 335-1400) in the Proemio to his Novelle writes as
follows : " . . . and taking into consideration the excel-
lent Florentine poet Messer Giovanni Boccaccio, who
wrote the Book of the Hundred Tales in one material
effort of his great intellect, . . . that (book) is so generally
published and sought after, that even in France and
England they have translated it into their language . . .
and I, Franco Sacchetti, though only a rude and unrefined
man, have made up my mind to write the present work."
All trace of any such translation, if indeed it was ever
made, has been lost.1 In fact, it might seem that the only
man in England at that time really capable of carrying
out such a task, worthily at least, was Geoffrey Chaucer,
who, though for some reason we can never know he refused
to mention Boccaccio's name, adapted and translated the
Teseide, the Filostrato, and it seems, three tales from the
Decameron — the first of the Eighth Day, the fifth of the
Tenth Day, and the tenth of the Tenth Day.2 May it not
have been Chaucer's work to which Sacchetti referred?
It was not until 1566 that any translation even of isolated
stories from the Decameron appeared ; in that year and

1 Cf. H. C. Coote in Athenceum, 7th June, 1884, No. 2954.

2 If Dante moved Chaucer most, it is from Boccaccio he borrows most.
Troilus and Criseyde is to a great extent a translation of the Filostrato.
Cf. Rossetti, W. M., Chaucer's " Troylus and Criseyde" compared with
Boccaccio's "Filostrato" (Chaucer Society, 1875 and 1883). The Knightes Tale
is a free rendering of the Teseide. The design of the Canterbury Tales was
in some sort modelled on the design of the Decameron. As we have seen,
The Reeves Tale, The Frankeleynes Tale, The Schipmannes Tale are all found
in the Deca?neron, though it is doubtful perhaps whether Chaucer got them
thence. The Monks Tale is from De Casibus Virorum.

Did Chaucer meet Petrarch and Boccaccio in Italy ? He seems to wish to
suggest that he had met the former at Padua, but, as I have said, of the latter
he says not a word, but gives " Lollius " as his authority when he uses
Boccaccio's work. Cf. Dr. Koch's paper in Chaucer Society Essays, Pt. IV.
Jusserand in Nineteenth Century, June, 1896, and in reply Bellezza in
Eng. Stud., 23 (1897), p. 335.

314 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

the following Painter's Palace of Pleasure was published,
which contained sixteen stories translated from the De-
cameron. Then in 1 579 came the Forest of Fancy, by H. C,
in which two more appeared, while Tarlton's News out of
Purgatorie (1590) contained four more, and the Cobler of
Caunterburie, published in the same year, two more. These
and other translations of isolated stories will best be shown
by a table.1

1 Cf. Koeppel, Studien zur Geschichte der Italienischen Novelle in der
Englischen Litieratur des sechszehnten Jahrhunderts in Quellen und Forsch-
ungen zur Sprach und Culturgeschichte der germanischen Volkes (Strassburg,
1892), Vol. LXX.

dERO

n, Day 1.

Nov.

Painter's Palace of Pleasure, 1. 30(1566).

5»

II. 16(1567).

>»

>» 11 5, 1. 3i-

5» J> J» •• 32'

II.

»» >> »> '« 33*

II.

1. 34-

II.

j> »» >> i« 35*

II.

»» >> »> i* 3"*

>»

II.

j y

6 Greene's Perimedes the Blacksmith ( 1 588).

»»

>»

II.

8 Painter's Palace of Pleasure, 1. 37.

>»

II.

Westward for Smelts, by Kind Kit of

Kingston, 11. (1620).
H. C.'s Forest of Fancy, 1. (1579).

j»

III.

»>

>»

III.

Painter's Palace of Pleasure, 1. 38.

l»

IV.

„ ,, 1. 39 and

others.

• 1

IV.

>»

Tarlton's News out of Purgatorie, 2 (1590).

»»

IV.

Turbeville's Tragical Tales, 6 (ca. 1576).

»»

IV.

n 7-

»>

IV.

5. 5, 5, 9-

>»

IV.

»» »» 11 10.

>»

IV.

55 4-

»>

>»

A Pleasant and Delightful History of
Galesus, Cymon and Iphigenia, etc., by
T. C. gent. Ca. 1584.

) >

Greene's Perimedes the Blacksmith.

»>

H. C.'s Forest of Fancy, If.

>»

8 A notable History of Nastagio and Tra-

versari, etc. , trs. in English verse by C. T.

(1569), and Turbeville, I., and Forest of

Fancy.

VI.

Tarlton's News, No. 4.

»>

VI.

No. 5.

VII.

The Cobler of Caunterburie, No. 2.

VII.

Westward for Smelts, No. 3.

VII.

>»

Cf. Thomas Twyne's Schoolmaster (1576).

VII.

5 J

6 Tarlton's News, No. 7.

THE DECAMERON 315

Such were the stories from the Decameron that had been
translated in English when in 1620 the first practically
complete edition appeared, translated inaccurately, but
very splendidly, apparently from the French version of
Antoine Le Macon. Isaac Jaggard published it, in folio
in two parts, with woodcuts, and the title bore no
translator's name. In 1625 this edition was reprinted, the
title bearing the legend " Isaac Jaggard for M. Lownes " :2
other editions appeared in 1655 and 1657 and 1684, making
five editions in all during the seventeenth century. In
1700 Dryden's translations appeared of the Three Tales :
Decameron, IV 1, V 1, and V 8. A new translation, practi-
cally complete, appeared in 1702, and was, I think, twice
reprinted in 1722 and 1741. Certainly eight editions were
published in the nineteenth century3 and two have appeared
already in the twentieth.4 The first really complete trans-

Hundred Mery Talys, No. 3 (1526).
The Cobler of Caunterburie.
Nachgeahunt of Whetstone (1583).
Painter's Palace of Pleasure, II. 31.
Thomas Twyne's Schoolmaster.
William Warner's Albion's England (1586—
1592).
ix. , , 6 Cf. A Right Pleasant Htstorie of the Mylner
of Abingdon (?).
Painter's Palace of Pleasure, II. 18.
„ ' „ II. 19.

II. 17-
The History of Tryton and Gesyppustrs,
out of the Latin by William Wallis (?),
and The Boke of the Governours by Sir
Thomas Elyot, lib. II. cap. xii. (1531).
Painter's Palace of Pleasure,1 II. 20.
10 The Pleasant and Sweet History of Patient
Grissel (?) and another (1619).
1 Painter's Palace of Pleasure is almost certainly the source of the Tales
of Boccaccio which Shakespeare used.

3 This first translation has been reprinted by Mr. Charles Whibley in The
Tudor Translations (4 vols., David Nutt, 1909), with an introduction by
Edward Hutton. In it the story of Fra Rustico (III, 10) has been omitted by
the anonymous translator, and a harmless Scandinavian tale substituted for it.

3 In 1804, 1820, 1822, 1846 (1875), 1884, 1886, 1896.

4 A reprint of the 1896 edition of the Decameron translated by J. M.
Rigg> with J. A. Symonds's essay as Introduction (Routledge, 1905), and the
edition spoken of su/ra, n. 2.

Decameron, Day vii.

Nov.

II VII.

II VIII.

»>

„ VIII.

»>

>> >> IX.

>»

»>

»J

316 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

lation to appear in English, however, was that of Mr. John
Payne, printed for the Villon Society (1886), but the first
complete translation to pass into general circulation was
that of Mr. J. M. Rigg, 1896- 1905, which is rendered with
a careful accuracy and much spirit.

"The ordinary recreations which we have in Winter,"
says Burton in the Anatomy of Melancholy, "and in most
solitary times busy our minds with, are Cards, Tables and
Dice, Shovel-board, Chess-play, the Philosopher's game,
Small Trunks, Shuttle-cock, Billiards, Musick, Masks,
Singing, Dancing, Yulegames, Frolicks, Jests, Riddles,
Catches, Purposes, Questions and Commands, Merry Tales
of Errant Knights, Queens, Lovers, Lords, Ladies, Giants,
Dwarfs, Thieves, Cheaters, Witches, Fairies, Goblins,
Friars, etc., such as the old women told [of] Psyche in
Apuleius, Boccaccio's Novels and the rest, quarum audi-
tione pueri delectantur, senes narratione, which some delight
to hear, some to tell, all are well pleased with."

Well, after all, we are our fathers' sons, and (God be
thanked) there are still winter evenings in which, while the
rest are occupied with Burton's frolicks and jests, dancing
and singing and card-play, we, in some cosy place, may
still turn the old immortal pages.

APPENDICES

APPENDIX I

THE DATES OF BOCCACCIO'S ARRIVAL IN NAPLES AND
OF HIS MEETING WITH FIAMMETTA

THAT the date of the arrival of Boccaccio in Naples
commonly accepted, namely the end of 1330, is in-
admissible, has, I think, been proved by Della
Torre {pp. cit., caps. ii. and iii.), who gives us many
good reasons to think that the true date was
December 13, 1323. With his conclusions I agree, nor do I
see how they are easily to be put aside.

To begin with, the departure of Idalagos in the Filocolo 1 forms
part of the same episode as the birth of the frafellastro, so that
it would seem the two events cannot have been separated by any
great length of time ; certainly not by nine years, which would
be the case if Boccaccio really left Florence in 1330, for Fran-
cesco the J rate lias tro was born in 132 1.2

Again, Boccaccio tells us that at the time of his departure
Idalagos was " semplice e lascivo," 3 which would scarcely be
epithets to apply to a youth of seventeen years. And then, even

1 Filocolo {ed. cit.), ii. pp. 242-3. I give the whole passage for the sake of
clearness: "Ma non lungo tempo quivi ricevuti noi dimor6, che abban-
donata la semplice giovane [i.e. Giannai or Jeanne ; he is speaking of his
father] e 1' armento torno ne' suoi campi, e quivi appresso noi si tiro, e non
guari lontano al suo natal sito la promessa fede a Giannai ad un altra,
Garamita chiamata, ripromise e serv6, di cui nuova prole dopo piccolo spazio
riceveo. Io semplice e lascivo, come gia dissi, le pedate dello ingannator
padre seguendo, volendo un giorno nella paternal casa entrare, due orsi fero-
cissimi e terribili mi vidi avanti con gli occhi ardenti desiderosi della mia
morte, dc'* quali dubitando io volsi i passi miei e da quell' ora innanzi
sempre d' entrare in quella dubitai. Ma acciocche io piu vero dica, tanta fu
la paura, che abbandonati i paternali campi, in questi boschi venni l'apparato
uficio a operare . . . ."

2 The document quoted by Della Torre, op. at. , p. 24, seems to prove
that Francesco was born in 1321.

a Cf. Dante, Paradise, v. 82-4.

3*9

320 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. i.

though we pass that, what are we to think of a youth of seven-
teen who is so mortally afraid of his stepmother and his little
brother, aged say nine, that to save his life, as he thinks, he runs
away ? Certainly this youth is very unlike Boccaccio. Whatever
the date may be, then, the year 1330 would seem to be out of
the question.

At that time it was the custom of men to divide human life
into seven ages, as Shakespeare records later. These seven ages
we find were Infanzia, Puerizia, Gioventu or Adolescenza, Virilita,
Vecchiaia, and Decrepitezza. The first three of these ages
corresponded to the following years, thus : — l

Infanzia

i-7

Puerizia

7-14

Adolescem

:a .

14-21

Now Boccaccio tells us quite clearly, " io . . fanciullo cercai
i regni Etrurii, e di quelli in piu ferma eta venuto, qui [that is to
Naples] venni." 2 That is to say : " I came to Tuscany before I
was seven years old, and during my boyhood (Puerizia) between
the ages of seven and fourteen, between the years 132 0-1327, I
came to Naples."

Does that seem a little far-fetched, a little as though we were
trying to prove too much, with such vague words ? Let us have
patience. When after six years with the merchant in Naples,
Boccaccio is abandoned by Abrotonia and Pampinea, they appear
to him in a dream and tell him it was not for them he really
sang, but for another. Then there comes to him a dream in
which he sees this other, and recognises her as the lady who
had welcomed him to Naples — " questa era colei, che nella mia
puerizia vegnendo a questi luoghi, apparitami e baciatomi, lieta
m' avea la venuta profferta."8 Nor does this passage stand alone.
When on Holy Saturday he sees Fiammetta face to face, he
recognises her as the lady who had lately appeared to him it is
true, but first — " Questa e colei che nella mia puerizia e non ha

1 Cf. S. IsiDORO DI Siviglia, Origines in Opera Omnia (Paris, 15S0),
cap. 75. Also Papia, Elementarium (Milan, 1476), under Aetas ; and see
Della Torre, op. cit., p. 73.

2 Ameto (ed. cit.\ p. 225. "' Ibid., p. 227.

\fp. I.] ARRIVAL IN NAPLES 321

*ran tempo ancora, m' apparve ne' sonni miei. . . ." Now
*>uerizia> boyhood, fell, as we have seen, between the ages of seven
ind fourteen — between the years 1320 and 1327 in Boccaccio's
3ase.

To clinch the matter, as we might think, in the De Genealogiis,
>cv. 10, Boccaccio tells us that he entered the merchant's office
Defore he was adolescent — " adolescentium nondum intrantem,"
hat is to say before he was fifteen and before the year 1328. So
:hat it might seem to be proved not only that he came to Naples
Defore 1330, but that he came to Naples between the years 1320
ind 1327. Now old Boccaccio himself came to Naples in the
mtumn of 1327 — did Boccaccio then come with him? This at
iirst sight seems likely ; let us enquire into it.

In the De Genealogiis, xv. 10, Boccaccio tells us that he was six
pears with the merchant, wasting his time, "Sex annis nil aliud
Fed quam non recuperabile tempus in vacuum terere." That is
:o say, if he came to Naples with his father in 1327, he was still
arith the merchant in 1333, when he was twenty years old. But
Benvenuto da Imola1 seems to tell us that Boccaccio was sixteen
ivhen he began to study Canon Law ; in other words, if we read
:hat author aright, Boccaccio began to study Canon Law in 1329.
This will not square with the theory that he came to Naples in
1327, but it admirably fits our claim that he came to Naples in
[323, and after six years with a merchant began to study Canon
Law in 1329, when he was sixteen years old.

But we know that whatever else may be insecure in this ques-
:ion, it is at least certain that the departure of Boccaccio for
Naples took place before the meeting with Fiammetta, for it was
n Naples that he first saw her. At first sight this might seem to
lelp us little, for the date of the meeting with Fiammetta is more
jisputed than anything else in Boccaccio's chronology, the date
asually given being either 27th March, 1334, or nth April,
[338.2 We do not accept either of these dates. However, let
is examine what evidence we have.

1 See G. Betussi, La Genealogia degli Dei di Boccaccio (Venice, 1547).
Zf. Della Torre, op. cit., p. 123. The evidence is not good enough to base
in argument on unsupported.

2 Cf. D'Ancona e Bocci, Manuale della Lett. Jtal. (Firenze, 1904),
/ol. I, p. 579.

322 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. i.

In the introduction to the Filocolo Boccaccio tells us that he
first saw and fell in love with Fiammetta on that Holy Saturday
which fell in the sixteenth grado after the sun was entered
into Aries. I give the whole passage, as the argument depends
upon it : —

"Awene che un giorno, la cui prima ora Saturno avea sig-
noreggiata, essendo gia Febo co' suoi cavalli al sedecimo grado
del celestiale Montone pervenuto, e nel quale il glorioso parti-
mento del figliuolo di Giove dagli spogliati regni di Plutone si
celebrava, io, della presente opera componitore, mi trovai in un
grazioso e bel tempio in Partenope, nominato da colui che per
deificarsi sostenne che fosse fatto di lui sacrificio sopra la grata,
e quivi con canto pieno di dolce melodia ascoltava Y uficio che
in tale giorno si canta, celebrato da' sacerdoti successori di colui
che prima la corda cinse umilemente esaltando la povertade quella
seguendo. Ove io dimorando, e gia essendo secondo che il mio
intelletto estimava la quarta ora del giorno sopra Forientale
orizzonte passata, apparve agli occhi miei le mirabile bellezza
della prescritta giovane. . . ." 1

The whole question is then : on what day did the sun enter
Aries, in other words, on what day did Spring begin. We seem
to be on the point of solving the difficulty by answering that
question — an easy task — for sixteen days afterwards in the year
we seek it was Holy Saturday, and Boccaccio then saw Fiammetta
for the first time. The solution is, however, on consideration, not
quite so simple. We have to ask not only when did Spring
begin, but on what day did Boccaccio think it began ; when did
he think the sun entered Aries ?

As we know, Chaucer, Boccaccio's contemporary, thought
Spring began on 12th March,2 but Chaucer's "Treatise on the
Astrolabe" was written in 1391, more than fifty years after
the Filocolo.

All sorts of opinions have been expressed by scholars as to the
date that was in Boccaccio's mind as that which marked the entry

1 Filocolo (ed. cit.), I, pp. 4-5.

2 Cf. The Complete Works of Geoffrey Chaucer (Clarendon Press, 1901),
p. 401.

app.l] MEETING WITH FIAMMETTA 323

of the sun into Aries. Baldelli1 thinks it was March 21st \ Witte2
and Koerting3 say the 25th; Casetti4 says the 14th; and
Landau5 says the nth. The whole question is more or less
complicated by the fact that the Julian Calendar was in use.

We shall, then, find ourselves in agreement with many good
scholars if we say that Boccaccio thought Spring began on the
25th March (see infra), and calculating thus, we shall find that
he first met Fiammetta on April nth, 1338, when he was
twenty-five years old.6 This, however, is only conjecture.

If we ask ourselves, then, on what day Spring really did begin,
we shall find ourselves in agreement with Casetti, who names
the 14th March. Why should Boccaccio have been ignorant of
this ? He cannot have been ignorant of it. Are all his studies
with Calmeta and Andal6 di Negro to go for nothing? He
must have known when Spring began better than most men.
If then we take the 14th March as the date and add the sixteen
gradi to it, we arrive at the 30th. Now Holy Saturday fell on
the 30th March in 1331 and in 1336. Which of these two dates
is the true one ? The earlier we think.

If for the moment we admit that he came to Naples in 1323,
he must have met Fiammetta in 1331, not in 1336, for he
himself gives us to understand that seven years and four months
passed between his advent and that Holy Saturday.7 It seems
then most likely that he left home in 1323 and saw Fiammetta
for the first time in 133 1. If we argue back from the year 1336
(and, as has been shown, he met Fiammetta certainly either in
1 33 1 or in 1336), we find that he left home in 1329, when he

1 Op. cit.

2 In Dekameron von G, B. aus dem Italienischen iibersetz (Leipzig, 1859),
Vol. I, p. 22, note 2.

3 Op. cit, p. 104.

4 InNuova Antologia (1875), XXVIII, p. 562.

5 Op. cit.

6 Cf. Crescini in Kristischer Jahresbericht, etc. (1898); Hauvette :
Une Confession de Boccacce: II Corbaccio in Bulletin Italien (1901), i, p. 7.

7 See Ameto (ed. cit.), p. 227. I quote the passage : " Ed ancorache Febo
avesse tutti i dodici segnali mostrati del cielo sei volte, poiche quello era
stato, pure riformo la non falsa fantasia neila offuscata memoria la vedute
effigie. . . ." Then below: "Ma sedici volte tonda, e altrettante bicorna
ci si mostro Febea. ..." That is six years and sixteen months, or in other
words, seven years and four months.

324 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. i.

was sixteen. That would be open to as many objections as the
year 1330 (see supra). Without actual certainty we may
claim that the years 1323 and 1331 that have a secure relation-
ship exactly fit in with all the secondary evidence that has been
brought to bear upon the argument.

Our conclusions are then : that Boccaccio entered Naples in
December, 1323; that he was with a merchant for six years,
till 1329, in which year he began to study Canon Law. For
sixteen months he had followed this study (so that he left the
merchant in the winter of 1329), when on Holy Saturday,
March 30, 1331, at the age of eighteen, he first saw and fell in
love with Fiammetta.1

1 Witte's and Koerting's theory, based on 25 March as the beginning
of spring, certainly receives some support from Boccaccio's comment on
Dante, Inferno, i. 38-40 : —

" E' 1 sol montava su con quelle stelle
Ch' eran con lui quando L amor divino
Mosse da prima quelle cose belle. ..."

Boccaccio, after speaking of "Ariete, nel principio del quale affermano
alcuni Nostro Signore aver creato e posto il corpo del sole," adds: "e
percio volendo 1' autore dimostrare per questa descrizione il principio della
Primavera, dice che il Sole saliva su dallo emisferio inferiore al superiore, con
quelle stelle le quali erano con lui quando il divino amore lui e 1' altre cose
belle creo ; . . . volendo per questo dame ad intendere, quando da prima
pose la mano alia presente opera essere circa al principio della Primavera ;
e cosi fu siccome appresso apparira : egli nella presente fantasia entr6 a dl
25 di Marzo." — Comento [ed, cit.), cap. i.

APPENDIX II

DOCUMENT OF THE SALE OF " CORBIGNANO " (CALLED
NOW "CASA DI BOCCACCIO") BY BOCCACCINO IN 1 3 36

IN Dei Nomine Amen. Anno ejusdem incarnationis mil-
lesimo trecentesimo trigesimo sexto indictione quarta et
die decimo octavo mensis Madij.
Pateat etc. etc. etc.

Item postea eodem die Bocchaccinus olim Chellini de
Certaldo qui olim morabatur in populo Sancti Petri maioris et
hodie moratur in populo Sancte Felicitatis de Florentia iure
proprio et in perpetuum dedit vendidit tradidit et concessit
Niccholo olim Vegne populi Sancti Simonis de Florentia ementi
recipienti et stipulanti pro se ipso suisque heredibus habenti-
busque causam ab eodem pro ducentis quadraginta partibus pro
indiviso ex trecentis quinquaginta partibus et Niccholao nepoti
dicti Niccholi et filio olim Pauli olim Vegne dicti populi Sancti
Simonis ementi stipulanti et recipienti pro se ipso suisque here-
dibus habentibusque causam ad eodem pro residuis centum-
decem partibus pro indiviso ex trecentis quinquaginta partibus.
Quoddam Podere cum domibus, curte, puteo, portibus, terra
laborativa et vineata et olivis et arboribus, fossatis in medio,
positis in parte in populo Sancti Martini la Melsola et in parte
in populo Sancte Marie de Septignano Comitatus Florentie loco
dicto Corbignano que esse dicuntur ad cordam et rectam men-
suram Comunis Florentiae stariorum trigintaocto et panorum
duo vel circa et duo tamen capanne, quatuor orgiorum vel circa
et quamdam bigonciam da ricever vino et quemdam suem ibidem
existentem ; quibus omnibus tales dixit esse confines, a primo
olim heredes Becit Bonaccursii, et hodie Cose olim Banchi Cose,
a secundo olim dictorum heredum Becti et hodie dicti Cose, via

325

326 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. n.

dicti poderis et rerum venditarum in medio, a tertio olim
Chiarozzi de Lamone et hodie heredum Vantis Rimbaldesis, via
dictorum poderis et rerum venditarum in medio in partem, et
olim Omodeii Spadari et hodie Andree Aghinecti in partem,
a quarto olim dicti Homodey et hodie dicti Andree in partem et
Pieri Boni in partem; infra predictos confines vel alios si qui
forent pluries vel veriores, accessibus, aggressibus, ingressibus et
egressibus suis et cuiuslibet vel alterius earum usque in viam
publican et cum omni iure, actione, possessione, tenuta usu,
usufructu seu requisitione eidem Boccaccino pro dictis rebus
venditis vel earum aliqua aut ipsis rebus venditis vel earum
alicui modo aliquo pertinenti vel spectanti ; et cum omnibus et
singulis que super se, infra, seu inter se habent dicte res vendite
vel earum aliqua ad habendum, tenendum, possidendum, fruen-
dum, usufructandum, et quidquid eisdem Nicchole Vegne pro
partibus supradictis et Niccholao Pauli pro partibus supradictis
pro inde deiceps placuerit perpetuo faciendum. Que quidem
podere et res vendite et earum quamlibet predictus Boccaccinus
pro eisdem Niccholo Vegne pro partibus supradictis et Niccholao
Pauli pro partibus supradictis constituit possidere donee exinde
dicti Niccholas Vegne pro partibus supradictis et Niccholaus
Paoli pro partibus supradictis vel aliquis eorum pro se et alio
eorumdem vel aliis pro eis corporalem possessionem sumere
adeptas vel adeptis. Que et quas intrandi et exinde corporalem
possessionem adipisci et retinendi deinceps dictus Boccaccinus
venditor eisdem emptoribus et eorum cuilibet pro partibus supra-
dictis quandocumque, quocumque, quotiescumque et qualiter-
cumque voluerint, vel eorum aliquis licentiam concessit omnimo-
dam atque dedit. Insuper dictus Boccaccinus venditor fecit et
constituit suum procuratorem Bencivennem Mactheii dicti populi
Sancti Simonis ibidem presentem et recipientem specialiter ad
ponendum et immittendum pro eo et eius nomine dictos
Niccholam Vegne pro partibus supradictis et Niccholaum Pauli
pro partibus supradictis, vel alium recipientem pro eis et eorum
quolibet in tenutam et corporalem possessionem dictorum poderis
et rerum venditarum, et cuiuslibet earum et earum cuiuslibet,
earum tenutam et corporalem possessionem tradendi cum omni
iure eidem Bocchaccino in dictis rebus venditis vel earum aliqua

p. II.] SALE OF CASA DI BOCCACCIO 327

pertinentia. Et generaliter ad omnia facienda que ipse con-
stituens posset facere si adesset. Insuper etiam dictus Boc-
chaccinus ex caussa vendictionis predicte dedit, cessit, transtulit
et exinde eisdem Nicchol6 Vegne et Niccholao Pauli et cuilibet
eorum pro partibus supradictis omnia et singula iura et actiones
reales et personales, utiles et directas mixtas tacitas et expressas
preter civiles et conventionales omnesque alias eidem Bocchaccino
competentes et spectantes, et que et quas ipse Bocchaccinus
habet eidemque competunt contra et adversus quemlibet et
quoslibet et quemcumque et quoscum auctores suos eidemque
Bocchaccino pro dictis seu occasione dictorum poderis et rerum
quomodolibet obligavit faciens et costituens predictus Bocchac-
cinus eosdem Niccholam Vegne et Niccholaum Pauli ibidem
presentes, procurators in rem suam eosdemque ponens in locum
suum in iuribus et nominibus supradictis quo ad possint dicti
Niccholas Vegne et Niccholaus et quilibet eorum pro partibus
supradictis, pro dictis, et contra predictis agere etc. Et pro-
misit et convenit dictus Bocchaccinus venditor eidem Nicchole
Vegne et Niccholao Pauli et cuilibet eorum stipulanti et re-
cipienti ut supra pro partibus supradictis, pacifice et quiete per-
mittee et permicti facere dictos emptores et eorum quemlibet
pro partibus supradictis eorumque et cuiuslibet eorum heredibus,
habentibusque caussam ab eisdem ipsum podere et res vendite
et earum quamlibet earumque et cuiuslibet earum obventionum
habere etc. Et nullam litem questionem seu brigam eisdem
emptoribus vel eorum alicui eorumque vel alicuius eorum here-
dum habentibusque caussam ab eisdem in dictis rebus venditis
vel earum aliqua vel earum seu alicuius earum parte seu partio-
lam vel in earum seu alicuius earum obventionis inferre facere
vel movere seu inferenti, facienti, vel moventi consentire. Set
omnes et singulas lites et questiones eisdem emptoribus vel
eorum alicui eorumque vel alicuius eorum heredum vel habenti-
busque caussam ab eisdem in dictis rebus venditis vel earum
aliqua vel in earum seu alicuius earum parte seu particola, vel in
earum seu alicuius earum obventionis per libelli oblationem
simplicem requisitionem, tenutam, notitiam vel usuras, vel tenute
dationem, pronumptiationem, acquisitionem, vel immissionem
vel partim de disgombrando, vel alio quocumque modo motas vel

328 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. n.

movendas in se suscipere a die qua eidem Bocchaccino vel eius
heredibus delatum fuerit personaliter vel ad domum ad tres dies
tunc proxime secutoros. Ita quod a dictis emptoribus vel eorum
quolibet eorumque et cuiuslibet eorum heredum habentibusque
causam ab eisdem in totum tollantur et ad causam ire etc. Et
ipsas res venditas et earum quamlibet earumque et cuiuscumque
earum obventionum eisdem emptoribus stipulantibus et recipien-
tibus ut supra defendere, auctorizare, et disbrigare, et ab omni
homine loco et universitate, et ab omni obventione, conventione
preterea atque pignoris, et ab omni debito, negotio et contumacia,
et ab omni tenuta, notitia, et usuris et tenute datione, pronump-
tiatione, acquisitione vel immissione et de iure et de facto in
omnibus causis videlicet ab omni libra, factione, prestantia, im-
positione, gabella quadam, banno inquisitione heretice pravitatis
eteius officio facto vel fiendo et ab omne heresis ammonitione et
ab officialibus Universitatis Mercatorum et Mercantie Comunis
Florentie, et ab omnibus et singulis Sindacis et officialibus
deputatis vel deputandis per Commune Florentinum super negociis
alicuius vel aliquorum mercatoris vel mercatorum nunc vel in
futurum pronumptiatione cessantium et fugitivorum cum pecunia
et rebus debitoris et eorum creditorum, et a Iudice et Officio
Bonorum Rebellium, exbannitorum et condepmnatorum, et ces-
santium ac libris et factionibus Communis Florentie et ab omni
et quolibet officio dicti Communis Florentie presentibus et
futuris nee non a Comuni Florentino supradicto et eisdem emp-
toribus cuilibet videlicet eorum ut supra stipulanti et recipienti
ipsarum rerum venditadum et cuiuslibet earum vacuam posses-
sionem tradere et ipsos ut supra stipulantes et recipientes in
earum et cuiuslibet earum possessionum facere et defendere
penitus et in earum et cuiuslibet earum possessu vero domino
indepmne servare tueri et defensare. Remissis eisdem emptoribus
ut supra stipulantibus et recipientibus ex pacto etiam appellandi
necessitate si super evictione pronumptiatione contigerit contra
eos vel eorum aliquem vel eorum vel alicuius eorum heredum vel
habentibusque caussam ab eisdem. Et acto inter eos expresse
quod non possit dici, allegari vel exponi eisdem emptoribus vel
eorum alicui vel eorum vel alicuius eorum heredum habenti-
busque caussam ab eisdem vel eorum aliquo pro eisdem vel

app.ii.] SALE OF CASA DI BOCCACCIO 329

eorum alicui factum sit vel fuerit vel facta esset seu foret vel
fieret iniuria vel ininstitia. Si ipse res vendite vel earum aliqua
vel earum seu alicuius earum obventionis evinceretur ab eis vel
eorum aliquo vel quod ipsi vel eorum aliquis in curia seu ad
curiam non comparuerint vel non comparuerit, vel quod libellium

Iu caussam in se non susceperint vel non suceperit, vel quod
em non fuerint vel non fuerit contestatam, vel quod ipsarum
rum vel alicuius earum defensor non opposuerit vel non oppo-
erint, vel quod eorum vel alicuius eorum culpa vel negligentia
fuerit evictus. Et quod ipsi vel eorum aliquis non teneantur
seu teneatur in curia seo ad curiam comparere, esse vel stare,
vel libellum seu causam in se suscipere vel litem contestari vel
defensari dictarum rerum vel alicuius earum aliqualiter se offereret.
Et si, quod absit, evenerit dictas res venditas in totum vel in
partem dictis emptoribus vel eorum alicui eorumque vel alicuius
eorum heredum vel habentibusque caussam ab eisdem vel eorum
aliquo quoquo modo evinci vel super evictione etiam contra eos
vel eorum aliquem quoquo modo ferri sententiam proinde et
contra dictum Bocchaccinum, eisdem Nicchole Vegne et Niccho-
lao Pauli et cuilibet eorum stipulanti et recipienti ut supra et
pro partibus supradictis infrascriptum pretium cum omnibus et
singulis dapmnis expensis et interesse propterea secutis vel
factis dare, solvere, reddere et restituere a die videlicet evictionis
quoquo modo secute vel sententie super evictione quoquo modo
late ad tres dies tunc proxime secuturos Florentie, Prati, Pistorii,
Luce, Senis, Pisis, Aretii, Perusii et alibi ubicumque locorum et
terrarum dictus Bocchaccinus inventus vel conventus fuerit. Et
promisit et convenit dictus Bocchaccinus venditor eisdem emp-
toribus vel eorum cuilibet stipulantibus et recipientibus ut supra,
et pro partibus supradittis predictam vendictionem, traditionem,
concessionem, promissionem et omnia et singula supracitata et
eorum quodlibet firma habere et tenere et haberi et teneri facere
et se in omnibus contra predicta dedit etc. Si vero contra
predicta vel predictorum aliquid idem Bocchaccinus venditor
dederit vel fecerit aut dabit vel faciet in futurum aut datum vel
factum quomodolibet apparuerit in aliquo capitulo in loco seu
publico presenti contractu supra vel etiam imposito aut si ut
promissum est et superius expressum factum non erit, promisit et

33Q GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App.il

convenit dictus Bocchaccinus eisdem Niccholo Vegne et Niccho-
lao Pauli et cuilibet eorum stipulanti et recipienti ut supra, dare
et solvere nomine pene et pena duplum infrascripti pretii et
insuper florenos aurei quadringentos bonos et puros solepni
stipulatione promisit cum refectione dapnorum etc. Que
quidem pena totiens committatur et peti et exigi possit cum
effectu quotiens contra predicta vel predictorum aliquid datum
aut factum fuerit seu ventum vel predictorum aliquid non
servatum.

Et pena soluta vel non, exacta vel non, una vice vel pluribus
predicta omnia et singula firma perdurent ; pro quibus omnibus
et singulis observandis obtulit et constituit precario etc. Pro
qua vero venditione, traditione et cessione et contractu et omni-
bus et singulis supradictis fuit in veritate confessus et contentus
dictus Bocchaccinus venditor et non spe alicuius future numera-
tions habuisse et recepisse sibique datum solutum et numeratum
fuisse et in presentia mei Notarii et infrascriptorum se habuit et
recepit in quodam cono sigillato prout ipse Bocchaccinus con-
fessus fuit tantam esse quantitatem nomine pretii et pretio a
dicto Niccholo Vegne florenos aurei Ducentos quadraginta bonos
et puros. Et a dicto Niccholao Pauli florenos dare centumdecem
bonos et puros de quibus se dictus Bocchaccinus bene pagatum
taciturn et contentum vocavit et dixit. Et quod plus valerent
dicte res vendite pretio supradicto, dictus Bocchaccinus eisdem
Niccholo Vegne et Niccholao Pauli et cuilibet eorum stipulanti
et recipienti ut supra et partibus supradictis inter vivos et irre-
vocabiliter nulla de cetero ingratitudinis caussa obstante donavit.
Insuper in agendo et contrahendo et exercendo predicto casu
predictus Bocchaccinus per solepmnem stipulationem et pactum
promisit et convenit eisdem Niccholo Vegne et Niccholao Pauli
et cuilibet eorum stipulanti et recipienti ut supra se facturum et
curaturum ita et taliter omni exceptione remota quod hinc ad
octo dies proxime venturos seu infra ipsum tempus et terminum
Biagius olim Pizzini dicti populi Sancte Felicitatis vel alius eque
bonus et hinc ad unum mensem proxime venturum seu infra
ipsum tempus et terminum Vanni eius frater et Alius olim dicti
Chelini dicti populi vel alius eque bonus et quilibet eorum in
solidum et in totum predictis venditioni, traditioni, concessioni

App.ii] SALE OF CASA DI BOCCACCIO 331

proinde pretii soluti et confessati donationi, contractui, ed instru-
mento et omnibus et singulis supradictis actis, factis, gestis et
romissis per dictum Bocchaccinum fideiubebunt et se princi-
iles constituent auctores et in omnibus et per omnia et quilibet
>rum in solidum facient, promictent et se et eorum quemlibet
solidum obligaverunt ut ipse idem Bocchaccinus in presenti
it promisit et se obligavit contractu. Que si non fecerit et
jri curaverit promisit et convenit dictus Bocchaccinus eisdem
lptoribus et eorum cuilibet stipulanti et recipienti ut supra
re et solvere nomine pene et pro pena Florenos auri centum
>onos et puros solepmni stipulatione promisit cum refectione
dapmnorum etc. sub ypotecha et obventione etc. precario etc.
et reservatione etc. Insuper dictus Bocchaccinus iuravit ad
sancta Dei evangelia corporaliter tactis scripturis deo, et dictis
emptoribus stipulantibus et recipientibus ut supra se non venire
contra predicta vel predictorum aliquid seu contra ea vel eorum
aliquid restitutionem aliquam in integrum impetrare seu petere
occasione minoris pretii vel alia occasione quacumque. Set pre-
dicta omnia et singula totaliter et effectualitir observare et
firma habere et tenere perpetuo promisit convenit etc. Actum
Florentie in populo Sancte Felicitatis presentibus testibus Bene
Manni populi Sancte Lucie de Ligliano plebatus Campoli Comi-
tatus Florentie. Salimbene Benuccii dicti populi Sancte Felici-
tatis et Nerio Dati populi plebis Sancte Marie in Pineta comitatus
predicti ad hec vocatis etc.

Item postea eodem die. Actum Florentie in domo habita-
tionis dicti Bocchaccini sita in dicto populo Sancte Felicitatis
presentibus tunc supradictis etc. Domina Margherita uxor dicti
Bocchaccini et filia olim Jandonati de Martolis certificata ante
omnia per me ipsum notarium de iure suo et omnibus et singulis
infrascriptis cum consensu dicti Bocchaccini viri sui ibidem
presentis, predictis venditionem, traditionem, concessionem, pro-
missionem, oblationem pretii, solutionem et confessionem, dona-
tioni, contractui et instrumento et omnibus et singulis supradictis
actis, factis, gestis, et promissis per dictum Bocchaccinum con-
sensit et parabolam dedit, et omni iuri, ypothece, et cuilibet alii
iuri eidem domine in dictis rebus venditis vel earum aliqua
competentia seu spectantia occasione dotis et donationis suarum

332 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App.il

vel alia occasione quacumque. Renuntiavit eisdem Niccholo
Vegne et Niccholao Pauli et cuilibet eorum stipulanti et recipienti
ut supra et pro partibus supradictis. Et promisit et convenit
dicta domina Margherita cum consensu dicti sui viri eisdem
emptoribus et cuilibet eorum stipulanti et recipienti ut supra
nihil in dictis rebus venditis vel earum aliqua in perpetuum
petere vel dicere nee aliquam litem molestiam vel gravamen
inferre facere vel movere aliqua occasione iure vel modo in causa
vel extra, curia vel extra vel aliquo alio modo qui dici vel exigi
possit, et se nihil contra predicta dedit etc. sub pena dupli pretii
supradicti et insuper Florenorum aurei quadringentorum sollepmni
stipulatione promisit et refectione dapmnorum etc. sub ypotheca
et obligatione etc. precario etc. et recusavit etc.

Item postea anno, die, et indictione predictis die vigesima
prima mensis Maii actum Florentie in domo in qua Consules
Artis Medicorum Spetiariorum et Merciariorum Civitatis Florentie
morantur ad iura reddenda sita in populo Sancte Cecilie pre-
sentibus tunc S. Spigliato Dini Notario populi Sancte Margherite
et Sandro Fioris Spine populi Sancte Marie in Campo de
Florentia ad hec vocatis precibus et mandatis dicti Bocchaccini
et pro eodem Bocchaccino Biagius olim Pizzini populi Sancte
Felicitatis et Vanni olim Chelini de Certaldo dicti populi et
quilibet eorum in solidum et in totum predictis venditioni, tradi-
tioni, concessioni, promissioni, pretii solutioni, et confessioni,
donationi, contractui et instrumento, et omnibus et singulis supra-
dictis actis, factis, gestis, et promissis per dictum Bocchaccinum
fideiusserunt et se et eorum quemlibet in solidum ipsarum rerum
venditarum et cuiuslibet earum principales auctores et defensores
constituerunt principaliter ei quilibet eorum in solidum et in
totum promiserunt et convenerunt mihi Salvi notario infrascripto
tamquam persone pubblice stipulanti et recipienti vice et nomine
dictorum Nicchole Vegne et Niccholaj Pauli et cuiuslibet eorum
pro partibus supradictis eorumque et cuiuscumque eorum heredi-
bus habentibusque caussam ab eisdem se facturum et curaturum
ita et taliter omni exceptione remota quod dictus Bocchaccinus
pacifice et quiete permictet et permicti faciet dictos emptores et
eorum quemlibet pro partibus supradictis eorum et cuiuslibet
eorum heredibus habentibusque caussam ab eisdem ipsas res

App.ii] SALE OF CASA DI BOCCACCIO 333

venditas et earum quamlibet habere et lites et questiones in se
suscipere et ipsas res venditas et earum quamlibet earumque et
cuiuslibet earum obventionum defendet auctorizabit et disbrig-
abit, et predictam venditionem traditionem, concessionem, pro
missionem, et omnia et singula supradicta et eorum quodlibet
firma habebit et tenebit et in omnibus et per omnia faciet,
attendet et observabit ut promisit et superius continetur. Alio-
quin ipsi fideiussores et quilibet eorum in solidum et in totum
promiserunt et convenerunt mihi Salvi Notario infrascripto
tamquam persone pubblice stipulanti et recipienti ut supra
pacifice et quiete permicti facere dictos emptores et eorum quem-
libet pro partibus supradictis earumque et cuiuslibet eorum
heredibus habentibusque caussam ab eisdem ipsas res venditas
et earum quamlibet earumque et cuiuslibet earum obventionum
habere et lites et questiones motas vel movendas in se suscipere,
et ipsas res venditas et earum quamlibet earumque et cuiuslibet
earum obventionum defendere auctorizzare et disbrigare et in
omnibus et per omnia et quilibet eorum in solidum promiserunt
et convenerunt et remiserunt et fecerunt mihi Notario stipulanti
et recipienti ut supra ut ipse Bocchaccinus promisit convenit
remisit et fecit ut supra continetur. Que si non fecerint et fieri
curaverint promiserunt et convenerunt predicti fideiussores et
quilibet eorum in solidum et in totum mihi iamdicto notario
stipulanti et recipienti ut supra dare et solvere nomine pene et
pro pena duplum pretii supradicti et insuper Florenos aurei
quadringentos bonos et puros solepmni stipulatone promiserunt
cum refectione dapmnorum etc. Que quidem pena totiens com-
mittatur et peti et exigi possit cum effectu quotquot contra
predicta vel predictorum aliquid datum aut factum fuerit seu
ventum vel predictorum aliquid non servatum, et pena soluta vel
non, exacta vel non, una vice vel pluribus predicta omnia et
singula firma perdurent sub ypoteca et obligatione etc. precario
etc. eisdem etc. Insuper dicti Biagius et Vanni Fideiussores et
quilibet eorum iuraverunt ad Sancta dei Evangelia corporaliter
tactis scripturis se vel eorum aliquem non venturos contra
predicta vel predictorum aliquid seu contra ea, vel eorum aliquid
restitutionem aliquam in integrum impetrare seu petere occasione
minoris pretii vel alia occasione quacumque, set predicta omnia

334 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. n.

et singula totaliter et effectualiter observare et firma habere et
tenere perpetuo quibus domino et fideiussoribus precepi per
guarentigiam etc.

Estratto dalle imbreviature di ser Salvi Dini a 164 esislenti nel
Pubblico Archivio dei Contratti.

APPENDIX III

FROM "LA VILLEGGIATURA DI MAIANO, A MS. BY
RUBERTO GHERARDI J A COPY OF WHICH IS IN
POSSESSION OF MRS. ROSS, OF POGGIO GHERARDO,
NEAR SETTIGNANO, FLORENCE.

CAP IV OF MS.

M ESSEX GIO. DI BOCCACCIO gode in proprieta
la Villa che fu del Sig* Berti a Corbigna?io ove
pare che egli nascesse e cresciuto restasse invaghito
della Vallata posta sotto il Convento de P. Pl MM.
Osservanti della Doccia e poi si trasportasse ad
abitare in Firenze e vi comprasse varie Case suo Padre. Si fa
V illustrazione del poema di M° Gio. nel quale narrati gli amori
e gli accidenti seguiti fra il flume d' Affrico e Mensola e
le fortune di Pruneo diloro figlio si trova la moderna e a?itica
topografia de detti luoghi e delP origine dello Spedale di Bonifazio
e del fine del Convento di S. Ma a Querceto e del giogo delle colli
nette luogo detto Monte.

Fra gli ammiratori del nostro Villaggio di Maiano e delle sue
adiacenze fu il nostro celebre maestro della Toscana eloquenza
Messer Giovanni di Boccaccio di Chellino da Certaldo, il quale
fino dalla prima eta e dipoi nel fiore della gioventu si trattenne
molto tempo nella piccola villetta unita al podere, che possedeva
suo padre pochi passi sotto il Sobborgo di Corbignano, che per
la misura del suo lo goduto con essa, per il fossato che sbocca in
Mensola, che lo divide, per i confini che lo specificano, e per le
due Cure, una di S. Martino a Mensola, e 1' altra di S. Maria
a Settignano che vi esercitano la giurisdizione e vengono a
individuarla altra non puo essere che quella di Corbignano de

335

336 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. in.

Signori Berti posseduta di presente con titolo Livellare dal
Signor Ottavio Ruggeri, come il tutto si pu6 riscontrare dal
Contratto di vendite della medesima, fatta per rogito di Ser Salvi
Dini esistente all' Archivio Fiorentino del di 18 Maggio 1336,
allorche il nostro Boccaccio si ritovava in eta d' anni 23. Questa
fiorita eta del medesimo e le dolci compagnie di quella villeg-
giatura, chi sa che non gli infiammassero il cuore e nella sua
commedia delle Ninfe Fiorentine, lo portassero ad encomiare e
comparire nel Prologo sotto nome d' Ameto e principalmente a
fissare lo sguardo a quella parte " dilettevole di graziose Ville e
di campi fruttiferi copiosa, ove sorge un infruttuoso monte
Corito nominato, prima che Atlante vi salisse ; nelle piaggie del
quale fra gli strabocchevoli balzi surgea d' alberi, di querce, di
cerri, e di abeti, un folto bosco e disteso fino alia sommita del
monte. Dalla sua destra un chiaro fiumicello, mosso dalla uberta
dei monti vicini, fra le pietrose valli, discendeva gridando vesso
il piano : dove giunte le sue acque con 1' Arno mescolando il poco
avuto nome perdea." Per il monte di Corito non vi ha dubbio
che egli intenda il monte di Fiesole, poiche nel fine dell' istessa
commedia trattando delle guerre tra i Fiesolani e i Fiorentini
successe nell' anno 1125 allorche furono distrutti i Fiesolani
colla loro rocca e accomunate le famiglie e 1' insegne di questi due
popoli. Egli dice che la fortuna "dante ne principj i beni con
mano troppo larga a quelli di Corito, gli rende invidiosi e tra
loro determini della Jurisdizione della loro Citta, nata mortale
questione, nuove battaglie cominciaron tra popoli," e poco dopo
parlando di Firenze, e de' suoi abitatori dice " che levatosi 1' aspro
giogo de Coritani gia sovrastanti per le indebolite virtudi si
rintuzzarono le loro forze, che appena il monte erano usati di
scendere." Per il fiumicello, il quale a chi riguarda il monte di
Fiesole comparisce alia destra si conosce che egli intese il fiume
d' Affrico, che ha V origine e discende per le baize descritte ; et
Ameto chiamb Sarno il fiume d' Arno, in ciu Affrico si sperde
poiche rappresentava tempi cosi remoti, giusta il parere dello
Storico Malaspina, allorche il detto fiume non aveva ancora
mutato il suo nome Sarno con quello d' Arno. " Era di piacevoli
seni ed ombra graziosa la selva ripiena d' animali veloci,
fierissimi, e paurosi, e in piu parti di se abbondanti fontane

App. hi.] GHERARDI'S MS. 337

rigavano le fresche erbette. In questa selva sovente Ameto
vagabondo giovane i Fauni, le Driadi abitatrici del luogo solea
visitare. Et ella forse dalli vicini monti avuta antica origine
quasi da carnalita costretto, di ci6 avendo memoria con pietosi
affetti gli onorava talvolta." Dice, che Ameto vagabondo
giovane perche forse dalli vicini monti avuta antica origine,
quasi da umana simpatia costretto, e de ci6 ricordandosi solea
visitare ed onorare talvolta i Fauni e le Driadi abitatrici del
luogo pieno di Ville, di fonti, di seni, e boschetti. E chi ne
assicura, che il Boccaccio non fosse nato nella sua villa di
Corbignano quivi poco distante ? Infatti per quanto sia cognita
V eta e in conseguenza la nascita del nostro M° Giovanni di
Boccaccio, nulladimeno per6 fino ad ora ne il Sigr Manni,
ne altro Scrittore della sua vita hanno potuto indagare dove ei
nascesse, non essendo stato procreato qual frutto di legittimo
matrimonio, ma bensi quale aborto di malnata passione, come
si pu6 riscontrare dalla dispensa addomandata per farsi cherico,
riferita nella storia d' Avignone e dalla dilui legittimazione narrata
dal Sigr Della Rena. Io credo, che raccontandoci in figura
d' Ameto il Boccaccio avere avuta forse Y origine nei colli vicini a
Maiano, e che percid spinto da natural simpatia andava spesso
a visitare le Ninfe e le Driadi di quelle magioni, abbia voluto
farci comprendere essere egli venuto alia luce nella sua piccola
villetta unita al Podere posto parte nel popolo di S. Martino a
Mensola, e parte di S. Maria a Settignano, e tramezzato dal fosso
che forma con altri due fossi dipoi il fiume di Mensola presso il
Borgo di Corbignano, distante circa a mezzo miglio dalle Ville
di Maiano. Tuttoci6 si rende vie pui credibile, quanto e naturale
il persuadersi che il dilui genitore abbandonata la sua patria di
Certaldo comprasse tosto quella villetta e podere di Corbignano,
e che poi essendogli nato il nostro Messer Giovanni facesse
acquisto circa al I3i4d' una Casa nella Citta di Firenze presso
quella porta, che conduceva alia sua Villetta, come si usava in
quei tempi, e questa casa la scegliesse posta nel popolo di S.
Pier Maggiore in via S. Maria e nel Gonfalone delle Chiavi come si
scuopre dal libro delle Riformagioni segnato R. che tira dal 1313 a!
1 3 1 8 sotto di 1 o Ottobre 1 3 1 8 ove si ordina che detto Boccaccio sia
levato dalla Libra delle gravezze di Certaldo, e resti aggravato in
z

338 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. in.

quella di Firenze, per essere egli tomato ad abitarvi nel Gonfalone
delle Chiavi dai quattro anni gia scorsi. Questa casa del
Boccaccio non pu6 essere altro, che quella posta nel detto popolo
di S. Pier Maggiore nella detta Via S. Maria presso la cantonata
che fa la detta strada con la via del Giardino di proprieta in oggi
dei P. P1 Minori Conventuali, scoperta da me per mezzo dei
confini d' altra casa che le sta al fianco venduta ne tre Luglio
I333 Per rogito di Ser Salvi Dini e descritta come App0
" Una Casa posta nel popolo di S. Pier Maggiore, ed in Via
S. Maria cui a primo detta Via, a secondo, la Chiesa di
S. Reparata, a terzo di Ruggero di Scotto o degli Albizi,
a quarto, a tempo d' altra vendita delle medesima, seguita nel
25. Aprile 1326 per rogito de Sigr Bonacosa di Compagno
etc. confinava Boccaccio da Certaldo e in oggi gli Eredi di
Cino Bicchierai."

Osservandosi il contorno dei confini di questa Casa venduta si
scuopre esser quella istessa che in' oggi e divenuta dell' Opera
del Duomo che sta in mezzo all' altra, che ora, e fin di quel
tempo e stata posseduta dall' Opera medesima che fa cantonata
in via del Giardino, e dall' altra parte, vale a dire vesso mezzo-
giorno resta accanto alia Casa dei P. P1 di S. Croce di Firenze
presentemente, e che in antico fu di proprieta del Boccaccio il
quale bisogna che la vendesse poco dopo al 1326 poiche avendo
egli emancipato Francesco, altro suo figlio, che si trovava vicino
alia puberta gli fece comprare nel 31. Agosto 1333 un altra
casa in Firenze nel popolo di S. Felicita per rogito di Ser Salvi
Dini, ove esso con i suoi figli abit6, e di cui par la il Signor
Manni nella sua illustrazione, che confina a primo e secondo Via
a terzo Domenico Barducci, a quarto Vanni di Cera e degli
Eredi di Ghino Canigiani. Lo stesso Boccaccio fece poscia
acquisto d' altra mezza Casa il di 13. Dicembre 1342 pei rogiti di
Sigri Francesco di Ser Matteo, come si riscontra da un Libro
di Gabella di detto tempo esistente nell' Archivio del Monte
Comune di Firenze, la quale penso che sia quella posta nel
popolo di S. Ambrogio donata dipoi alia Compagnia d' Orsan-
michele, come dal registro della medesima principiato nel 1340
a N 133 si vede.

Dopo questa breve digressione torniamo a Fiesole coll' istesso

app. hi.] GHERARDI'S MS. 339

Giovanni di Boccaccio, il quale non solo nella sua Genealogia
degli Dei, ma ancora nel Ninfale riconosce Atlante per fondatore
della medesima, ed insieme nel suo poema Toscano, primo, che
si trovi alia luce in ottava rima, rappresenta gli amori di Affrico
e Mensola piccoli fiumicelle che irrigano la nostra celebre Cam-
pagna e mette in vista i casi veri, o finti che siano, seguiti nel
contorno di Maiano situato in mezzo a questi due fiumi. Racconta
egli adunque che

Pria che Fiesole fosse edificata
Di mura o di steccato o di fortezza

venne Diana Dea Cacciatrice in quelle vicinanze ed armata
d' arco e di strali con gran corteggio di Driadi, e che era nel
Mese di Maggio.

Quando la Dea Diana a Fiesol venne,
E con le Ninfe sue consiglio tenne
Intorno ad una bella e chiara fonte
Di fresca erbetta e di fiori intorniata.
La quale ancor dimora a pie del monte
Ceceri, che in quella parte che il Sol guata
Quand' e nel mezzogiorno a fronte a fronte,
E fonte e oggi quella nominata
Intorno a quella Diana ancor si volse
Essere, e molte Ninfe vi raccolse. . . .

Incominci6 la Dea la sua concione alle Ninfe compagne,
esortandole al disprezzo e alia fuga degli uomini ed alia vita
celibe, solitaria ed occupata nella caccia di Belve. Africo, che
languiva d' amore per Mensola una della Ninfe fra quelle piu
vistosa dell' altre, udendo nascoso tali consigli 1' andava ricercando
col cupido sguardo, e non avendola potuta scoprire ne ivi ne
altrove gia lasso e sbigottito :

E verso Fiesol volto piaggia a piaggia
Giudato dall' amor ne gia pensoso,
Cercando la sua amante aspra e selvaggia,
Che faceva lui star maninconioso ;
Ma pria che mezzo miglio passat' haggia
Ad un luogo perviene assai nascoso,
Dove una valle due monti divide
Quivi udl cantar Ninfe, e poi le vide.
Perche senza iscoprisse s' appressava
Tanto che vidde donde uscia quel canto
Vidde tre Ninfe, che ognuna cantava
L' una era ritta e 1' altre due in un canto

34Q GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. m.

A un acquitrin, che il fiossato menava
Sedieno elle e lor gambe vidde al quanto,
Chi si lavavano i pie bianchi e belli
Con lor cantavan li dimolti uccelli.

Incontratosi Africo presso 1' acquitrino, che per la valle scorrea
interrog6 le Ninfe per sapere qualche nuova si Mensola diloro
compagna, ma veggendosi elleno scoperte dal pastorello piene di
vergogna fuggirono senza darli risposta, esso le segue, ne le puote
raggiungere e finalmente disperato.

Verso la casa sua prese la via.

Giunge tardi alia magione e inganna Calimena e Girasone suoi
genitori sopra il motivo del suo ritardo; il tenero padre finse
non avvedersi della passione del figlio ed esortollo a fuggire 1'
amore delle Ninfe come pericoloso, adducendoli in esemplo la
vendetta presa da Diana con Mugnone suo genitore trasmutato
in fiume per un tale delitto. Non curd il giovane gli avverti-
menti del vecchio, ne 1' esempio del nonno, e non avendo non
che sfogata neppure sopita la sua fiamma per mezzo dei disprezzi
istessi e delle repulse di Mensola che lo fuggiva, ma prendendo
augurio di poter sodisfare le pazze brame dal sacrifizio fatto a
Venere, che gli comparve scoprendoli la maniera d' ingannare la
sua Ninfa ritrosa risolve di tutto azzardare per sodisfazione di sua
follia. Prende ancor esso le spoglie e le divise di Ninfa, e trovata
Mensola con la comitiva delle altre ingannandole tutte et in-
fingendosi verginella si mette con esse a tirar dardi e a saettar
per giuoco. Delusa Mensola scorre i boschi ed i monto di Fiesole
con chi le tende le piu terribili insidie.

Elle eran gia tanto giu per lo colle
Gite, che eran vicine a quella valle

Che due monti divide

Non furon guari le Ninfe oltre andate
Che trovaron due Ninfe tutte ignude
Che in un pelago d' acque erano entrate
Dove 1' un monte con 1 altro si chiude
E giunte li s' ebber le gonne alzate
E tutte quante entrar nell acque crude.

Ove ora risiedeva il pelagaccio sotto il Convento dei P. P1
della Doccia in questo bagno il giovanetto Africo in abito di
Ninfa immersosi in compagnia di Mensola tradi la semplicita
della verginella e la lasci6 di se incinta. Fugge ella per la ver-
gogna di tanto oltraggio e per 1' inganno del garzoncello ; smania

app. hi.] GHERARDI'S MS. 341

e paventa per lo timore di Diana, talche avria detto di lei 1'

Ariosto :

Di selva in selva timida s' en vola

E di paura freme e di sospetto,

E ad ogui sterpo, che passando tocca

Esser le pare alia gran Diva in bocca.

Erivoltandosi contro V insidiatore affermato che

Tra 1' invita e natural furore

A spiegar 1' unghie a insanguinar le labbia

Amor la intenerisce e la ritira

Affrico a rimirare in mezzo all' ira.

Prevasse all' odio al furore e alia paura V amore talmente che
promesse Mensola al pastorello di ritornare in quel luogo

Affrico se ne va inverso del piano
Mensola al Monte su pel colle tira,
Molto pensosa col suo dardo in mano
E del mal fatto forte ne sospira . . .
Cosi passo del gran mente la cima 1
E poi scendendo giu per quella costa
Laddove il sol perquote quando prima
Si leva e che a Oriente e contrapposta
E secondo che il mio avviso stima
Era la sua caverna in quella posta,
Forse a un trar d' arco sopra il fiumicello
Che a pie vi corre un grosso ruscello.

A qual precipizio non conduce un forsennato amore ! Torno
piu volte Africo all ingannevole luogo insidioso ; ma si trovo piii
volte deluso ancor esso dalla sua Ninfa, che non vi comparve ;
sicche vinto infine dalla disperazione di rivederla,

E pervenuto a piede del vallone
E sopra all acque del fossato gito.

Disperato e pien di furore si trafisse col proprio dardo : dicendo

lo me ne vo all inferno angoscioso

E tu, flume, terrai il nome mio

E manifesterai lo doloroso

Caso, ch' e occorso si crudele e rio

A chiunque ti vedra si sanguinoso

Correre, o lasso, del mio sangue tinto

Paleserai dove amor m' ha sospinto.

L' infelice garzone cadde morto nell' acqua, e quella

Dal sangue tinta si divenne rossa,

Facea quel flume siccome fa ancora

Di se due parti alquanto giu piu basso.

1 cioe di Monte Ceceri. . . .

342 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. m.

Presso alia maggior riviera, de cui era situata la casa di Gira-
sone, sicche 1' onda che scorrea sanguinosa scuopri all5 infelice
padre la disgrazia del figlio; Mensola poi per lo peccato, e lo
timor di Diana e delle Ninfe sue compagne nascosa e palpitante
aspettava 1' ora del parto j partori finalmente ; ma in quel tempo
appunto, che la Dea Cacciatrice essendo tornata a Fiesole e ne
suoi contorni a rivedere le sue seguaci fra le quali non avendo
ritrovata Mensola piena d' ira e sospetto la ricercava. Mensola
occult6 il piccolo figlio in una macchia fra i pruni (onde Pruneo
fu chiamato) e si dette alia fuga; ma per il vagito del bambi-
nello avendo scoperto Diana il di lei delitto ; gridb

Tu non potrai fuggir le mie saette

Se 1' arco tiro o sciocca peccatrice

Mensola gia per questo non ristette

Ma fugge quanto puote alia pendice,

E giunta al fiume dentro vi si mette

Per valicarlo, na Diana dice

Certe parole e al fiume le manda

E che ritenga Mensola comanda.

La sventurata era gia in mezzo all' acque

Quand ella i pie venir meno sentia

E quivi siccome a Diana piacque

Mensola in acqua allor si convertia

E poi sempre in quel fiume si giacque

II nome suo, che ancora tuttavia

Per lei quel fiume Mensola e chiamato

Or v' ho del suo principio raccontato.

Dopo seguito 1' atroce caso e 1' orribile metamorfosi prese

Diana quel piccolo pargoletto, che per essere stato trovato tra

i pruni, Pruneo fu chiamato, e lo consegnb a Sinidechia scaltra

vecchia ed informata del tutto abitante in quei contorni, che

dopo lo condusse a Girasone e Calimena suoi avi, ai quale

V affido con gran premura, essi V educarono con sommo amore

e attenzione.

Passo allora Atlante in questa parte
D' Europa con infinita gente
Atlante fece allora fare
Una Citta, che Fiesole chiamossi. . . .
E tutti gli abitanti del paese
Atlante gli voile alia Citta de
Girafon quando questo fatto intese
Tosto n' ando con bona volontade
E meno seco il piacente, il cortese
Pruneo, etc. etc.

app. in.] GHERARDI'S MS. 343

Piacque fuor di misura Girafone ad Atlante perloche lo dichiarb
suo consigliere ed al giovane Pruneo dilui nipote :

Atlante gli pose tanto amore,
Veggendo ch' era si savio e valente,
Che Siniscalco il fe con grande onore
Sopra la terra, e sopra la sua gente,
E di tutto il paese guidatore,
Ed ei guidava si piacevolmente
Che da tutti era amato e benveduto
Tanto dava ad ogn' uno il suo dovuto
E gia piu di venticinqu' anni avea
Quando Atlante gli die per mogliera
Una fanciulla, la qual Tironea
Era il suo nome e figliola si era
D' un gran Baron, che con seco tenea
E dielli tutta ancor quella riviera
Che e in mezzo tra Mensola e Mugnone,
E questa fu la dote del garzone.
Pruneo fe far dalla Chiesa a Maiano
Un po di sopra un nobil casamento
D' onde ei vedeva tutto quanto il piano,
Et afforzollo d' ogui guernimento,
E quel paese ch' era molto strano
Tosto dimentico siccome sento, etc. etc.

Morirono dopo gli avi suoi Girafone e Calimena e Pruneo
avendo avuti sa dua moglie Tironea dieci figlinoli tutti gli
accoppio con vantaggioso Imeneo sicche :

In molte genti questa schiatta crebbe
E sempre furon a Fiesol cittadini
Grandi e possenti sopra i lor vicini.
Morto Pruneo con grandissimo duolo
Di tutta la Citta fu seppellito,
Cosl rimase a ciascun suo figliuolo
Tutto il paese libero e spedito,
Che Atlante donato avea a lui solo,
E bene 1' ebbon tra lor dipartito
E sempre poi le schiatte di costoro
Signoreggiaron questo territoro.

Narrati gli amore, i casi, e le seguite trasformazione di Africo e
Mensola, rappresentate nel Ninfale di Giovanni Boccaccio senza
ricercare quello che abbia voluto indicare nel favoloso racconto
noter6 i luoghi descritti dal medesimo. Osservo che Diana colle
sue seguaci conduce a tenere assemblea.

Intorno ad una bella e chiara fonte
Di fresche erbette e di fiori intorniata,

344 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. m.

La quale ancor dimora appie del monte
Ceceri in quella parte, che il sol guata
Quand' e nel mezzodi a fronte a fronte,
E Fonte e oggi quella nominata, etc. etc.

Questa fonte e Y istessa chiamata modernamente Fonte all'
erta, a pie e nel base di Monte Ceceri situata a Mezzogiorno
e sotto la Villa dei Signori Pitti Gaddi, della qual fontana
ora non se ne veggono che le scomposte mura, le rovine ed i
vestigi nella pubblica strada al principio della costa ; ma vivono
persone, che mi hanno assicurato che circa all' anno 1710 ne fu
deviata V acqua procedente dal vivaio un po superiore alia
medesima e dall' unione di quelle, che vi concorrevano d' altrove
perche infrigidiva i terreni sottoposti e noceva alle piante e
alle raccolte dell istesso podere. Al tempo del nostro Boccaccio
(chiamer6 da qui avanti con tal nome benche di suo padre il
nostro M° Giovanni) io trovo che questo podere con case, vivaio
etc., esistente alia fine del piano di S. Gervasio fu venduto nel
5 Giugno 1370 per rogito di Sigre Ristoro di Jacopo da Figline,
da Giovanni di Agostino degli Asini a Messer Bonifazio Lupo
Marchese di Soragona e Cavaliere Parmigiano, che in quel tempo
fu ascritto alia fiorentina cittadinanza, il quale spinto da lode-
vole pieta e grata riconoscenza alia repubblica fiorentina ottenne
dalla medesima fino sotto li 23. Dicembre 1377 come attesta
V Ammirato nel Libro decimo terzo, di poter fondare lo Spedale
in Via S. Gallo di detta citta chiamato appunto di Bonifazio dal
nome de si pio e grato benefattore ; fu posto questo Spedale nel
luogo comprato sino ne 2 Febbraio 1309 da Messer Giovanni
del gia Migliore de Chiaramontesi di Firenze per edificare il
Monastero e Convento di S. Maria a Querceto per rogito di Ser
Benedetto di Maestro Martino come si vede dall' Archivio dell'
Arcivescovado e dagli spogli del Migliore, le quale Monache
vi tornarono e vi si trovavano ancora nell' anno della peste del
1348 come per i rogiti di Ser Lando di Ubaldino da Pesciola del
4 Maggio 1336. e di Ser Benvenuto di Cerreto Maggio del di
24 Marzo 1346, e d' altri si riscontra, e dopo molto tempo
Eugenio Quarto uni ed assegnd al predetto Spedale il detto
monastero e Monache di Querceto quivi contigue come dallo
Zibaldone di No. 90 Del Migliore a 127 e 202 nella Maglia-

app. in.] GHERARDI'S MS. 345

bechiana si pub vedere. Ecco scoperto il luogo ove declamava
Diana (ma senza frutto) se riguardo a Mensola che all' altre
Ninfe di quei contomi, poiche io osservo, che tutti quei villeg-
gianti s' imparentavano e sposavano le zittelle dei villeggianti
vicini. Partito Africo dalla fonte predetta salendo verso Fiesole,
traversando la costa formata da piu effetti della Casa Albizi,
Covoni, Asini ed altre posti tanto nel popolo della Canonica,
che della Badia di Fiesole e di S. Gervasio dei quali per non
tediare non produrrd i Contratti ritrovati, quali Poderi tutti si
denominano Monte negli antichi Istrumenti per essere situati
sul poggio ove risiede in oggi il Convento di S. Domenico.
E dopo tal viaggio giunse il pastorello alia Valle formata da
questo giogo de Colli di Fiesole ; e da quelle degli altri di
Maiano sotto la Doccia, chiamata nel Decamerone la Valle delle
Donne di cui in seguito ragioneremo. Le acque delle superiori
piagge che scorrevano, formavano gli acquitrini, quali si univano
e davano 1' origine al fiume d' Affrico ed in uno di questi acquit-
rini vidde il pastorelle le Ninfe lavarsi le piante, e che s' invola-
rono da lui tostoche lo scopersero ; onde afflitto e turbato
scese verso la pianura di detta Valle e tornb alia sua magione.
Venere lo speranza, egli si traveste da Ninfa cerca di Mensola,
la ritrova, gira con essa verso le cime del Monte di Fiesole
saettando per giuoco, ritorna al pelago sotto la Doccia nella valle
vede le Ninfe che si bagnavano s' immerge ancor esso con la
compagna nelle acque, e quivi principiano le comuni sciagure.
Questo luogo pare, che sia devenuto cosi famoso nell' antichita
e nei tempi del nostro Boccaccio da potere aver comunicata la
denominazione agli stessi fondi di terreni che lo compongono, o
perche fosse ivi seguito qualche accidente che avesse dato luogo
al favoloso poema, o perche la favola istessa sia stata forse
adattata al luogo medesimo. Infatti io ritrovo nei rogiti di Ser
Roberto di Talento da Fiesole del 27 Novembre 1347 e del
28 Maggio 1352 descritto un podere di Tuccio del gia Diedi
de Falconieri posto verso Ponente e percio nel popolo della
Canonica di Fiesole con Case etc. chiamato il Bagno alio
Scopetino, ed in quelli di Ser Giovanni Bencini da Montaione si
vede una reciproca donazione fra Andreola, figlia del gia Carlo
dei Pazzi, e Vedova di Piero di Cione Ridolfi e Carlo Pazzi suo

346 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. m

fratello, di piu luoghi, fra i quali si trova un podere nel popok
di S. Martino a Maiano luogo detto la Valle al Bagno, fino sottc
di II Luglio 1343. Di piu nel libro F Primo a c 76 delk
Gabella dei Contratti si osserva ne di II Dicembre 1349 pe:
rogito di Ser Francesco di Bruno di Vico Dal Pozzo, ch(
Ma Dolce figlia di Mannino e Vedova di Bindo Buonaver
(famiglia molto illustre di Firenze) vende a Ma Simons
Pinzochera di S. Maria Novella, e Sorella di Cenni di Giotto
ma non del pittore, per fiorini 500 d' oro un podere etc.
posto nel popolo di S. Martino a Maiano luogo detto la Valk
del Bagno in Anrico. Nel Decamerone veggo descritta da
Boccaccio questa medesima Valle, e che la medesima adunanzs
d'acque in essa valle, che due " di quelle montagnette divideva, e
cadeva giii per balzi di pietra viva, e cadendo facea un rumore s
udire assai dilettevole, e sprizzando parea da lungi ariento vivo;
che d' alcuna cosa premutta minutamente sprizzasse ; e come git
al piccol pian pervenire, cosi quivi in un bel canaletto raccolta
infino al mezzo del piano velocissima discorreva ed ivi faceva un
piccol laghetto quale talvolta per modo di vivaio fanno ne loi
giardini i Cittadini che di ci6 hanno destro." II podere con casa
etc., etc., posto nel popolo di S. Martino a Maiano che gode di
presente la Signora Berzichelli, Vedova del gia Signor Barone
Agostino Del Nero, nella Valle d' Ameto e delle Donne, e
presso addove s' unisce il poggio della Doccia con quel di Maiano,
si chiama il Vivaio, e piu Vivaietti e Acquitrini si trovano in
quella valle sovrabbondante di acque, le quali dettero varie
denominazioni ad esse allusive di luoghi circonvicini, e credo,
che il detto luogo sia il medesimo, che don6 una volta Ma
Andreola de' Pazzi al suo fratello, e dipoi pervenuto in Ma Dolce,
Vedova del Bonavieri, lo vende alia figlia di Giotto suddetto,
situato d' appresso air altro del Falconieri. Quest' effetto
acquistarono i Signori Del Nero del Sigr Jacopo del Feo nel 1568
in cui era passato nel 1559 dal Sigr Niccolo di Filippo Valori, e
questo lo avea descritto in suo conto alia Decima del 1498 nel
Gonfalone delle Chiavi a 176. Questo Jacopo di Feo di Savona
ebbe per moglie Caterina Sforza de' Duchi di Milano naturale,
Vedova Girolamo Riario Signore di Forli e poi rimaritata a Gio.
di Pier Francesco de' Medici e Nonna percio di Cosimo I Gran

App. iii.] GHERARDI'S MS. 347

Duca di Toscana. Mensola intimorita varca il poggio in cui
risiede Maiano e si nasconde nel suo refugio sotto le cave in
faccia a Levante ed al piano di Novoli presso del Fiume, Affrico
all' incontro scende verso la pianura, e dopo esser tomato e
ritornato poi vesso del pelago disperato per non avere rintracciata
la Ninfa si trafigge col proprio dardo vicino alia magione di
Girafone suo padre posta sul ramo maggiore, uno chiamato
Affrico e 1' altro Affricuzzo, che poi s' uniscono insieme formandone
il suo fiume presso alio sbocco della valle predetta. Altro per
ora non resta da notarsi sopra la Topografia del racconto, poiche
nato il figlio Pruneo e trasmutata da Diana in pena del delitto
nel fiume che porta il suo nome, Mensola sua Madre, e dalla
disperazione il padre in quello d' Affrico, fu chiamato dipoi questo
pargoletto Pruneo dall' essere stato scoperto fra i pruni dalla
Dea. Nel corso degli anni comparve a Fiesole Atlante ed
edinco quella Citta, ed a questo fanciullo, gia fatto adulto, diede
per moglie Tironea, e per dote tutto il paese collocato fra il
Fiume Mensola e quel di Mugnone.

APPENDIX IV

THE ACROSTIC OF THE A MO ROSA VISIONS
DEDICATING THE POEM TO FIAMMETTA

HIS acrostic consists of three ballatc composed by
reading the first letters of the first verses of each
terzina throughout the poem.

Mirabil cosa forse la presente
Vision vi parra, donna gentile,
A riguardar, si per lo novo stile
Si per la fantasia ch' e nella mente.

Rimirandovi un dl subitamente
Bella, leggiadra et in abit' umile,
In volonta mi venne con sottile
Rima trattar parlando brievamente.

Adunque a voi, cui tengo Donna mia,
Et chiu sempre disio di servire,
La raccomando, madama Maria :

E prieghovi, se fosse nel mio dire
Difecto alcun, per vostra cortesia
Correggiate amendando il mio fallire.

Cara Fiamma, per cui '1 core 6 caldo,
Que' che vi manda questa Visione
Giovanni e di Boccaccio da Certaldo.

II dolce immaginar che '1 mio chor face
Delia vostra bilta, donna pietosa,
Recam' una soavita si dilectosa,
Che mette lui con mecho in dolce pace.

Poi quando altro pensiero questo disface
Piangemi dentro 1' anim' angosciosa,
Cercando come trovar possa posa,
Et sola voi disiar le piace.

Et pero volend' i' perseverare

Pur nello 'nmaginar vostra biltate,
Cerco con rime nuove farvi onore.

348

App. iv.] THE ACROSTIC 349

Questo mi mosse, Donna, a compilare

La Visione in parole rimate,

Che io vi mando qui per mio amore.
Fatele onor secondo il su' valore

Avendo a tempo poi di me pietate.

O chi che voi vi siate, o gratiosi

Animi virtuosi,

In cui amor come 'n beato loco

Celato tene il suo giocondo focho ;
I' vi priego c' un poco

Prestiate lo 'ntelletto agli amorosi

Versi, li quali sospinto conposi,

Forse da disiosi
Voler troppo 'nfiammato : o se '1 mio fioco

Cantar s' imvischa nel proferer broco,

O troppo e chiaro o roco,

Amendatel' accio che ben riposi.
Se in se fructo, o forse alcun dilecto

Porgesse a vo' lector, ringratiate

Colei, la cui biltate

Questo mi mosse affar come subgiecto.
E perche voi costei me' conosciate,

Ella somigli' amor nel su' aspecto,

Tanto c' alcun difecto

Non v' a a chi gia '1 vide altre fiate ;
E 1' un dell' altro si gode di loro

Ond' io lieto dimoro.

Rendete allei il meritato alloro,

E piu non die' omai,
Perche decto mi par aver assai.

APPENDIX V

THE WILL OF GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO

IN Dei nomine amen. Anno Domini millesimo tre-
centesimo septuagesimo quarto, indictione duodecima,
secundum cursum et consuetudinem Florentiae. Tempore
domini Gregorii, divina providentia Pape XI, die vigesimo
octavo mensis augusti. Actum Florentiae in ecclesia et
populo Sanctae Felicitatis, presentibus testibus Pazino Alessandri
De Bardis populi Sanctae Mariae supra Arnum de Florentia,
Angelo Niccoli dicti populi Sanctae Felicitatis, Andrea Biancardi,
Orlandino Jacobi, Burando Ugolini, Francisco Tomasi, omnibus
dicti populi Sanctae Felicitatis, et Brunellacio Bianchini de
Certaldo, comitatus Florentiae, ad infrascripta vocatis et rogatis
et ab infrascripto testatore suo proprio hore [sic] habitis et rogatis
et aliis suprascriptis.

Cum nil sit certius morte et incertius ora mortis et actestante
veritate, vigilare sit opus, cum diem ignoremus et horam qua
qua [sic] homo sit moriturus idcircho venerabilis et egregius vir
dominus Johannes olim Boccacii de Certaldo Vallis Elsae,
comitatus Florentiae, sanus mente, corpore et intellectu, suorum
bonorum dispositionis per presens nuncupativum testamentum
sine scriptis in hunc modum facere procuravit.

In primis quidem recomendavit animam suam Deo omni-
potent! et beatae Mariae semper Virgini gloriosae et sepulturam
sui corporis si eum mori contigerit in civitate Florentiae elegit in
ecclesia Fratrum Sancti Spiritus Ordinis heremitarum Sancti
Augustini de Florentia, in eo loco ubi videbitur magistro Martino
in sacra theologia, venerabili Magistro dicti Ordinis. Si autem
mori contigerit in castro Certaldi, judicavit corpus suum sepelliri
in ecclesia Sancti Jacobi de Certaldo, in ea parte ubi videbitur
actinentibus et vicinis suis.

35o

Apr v.] BOCCACCIO'S WILL 351

Item reliquit ecclesiae Sanctae Reparate de Florentia soldos
decern florenorum parvorum.

Item reliquit constructioni murorum civitatis Florentiae soldos
decern florenorum parvorum.

Item reliquit societati Sanctae Marise de Certaldo libras
quinque florenorum parvorum.

Item reliquit constructioni seu operi ecclesiae Sancti Jacobi
de Certaldo pro remedio animse suae et suorum parentum libras
decern florenorum parvorum.

Item reliquit Brunae filiae Cianchi de Montemagno, quae anti-
quitus moram traxit cum eo, unum lectum in quo ipsa erat
consueta dormire in castro Certaldi, cum letteria, cultrice,
pimacio [sic] una coltre alba parva at usum dicti letti cum uno
pario litiaminum, cum pancha que consueta est stare iuxta
lettum predictum.

Item unum dischum parvum pro comedendo de nuce, duas
tabolettas [sic] usitatis longitudinis trium brachiorum pro
qualibet.

Item duas tovagliuolas.

Item unum botticellum capacitatis trium salmarum vini.

Item unam robam Panni Monachini foderatam zendadi por-
perini, unam gonellam, guarnachiam et caputeum et sibi Brunae
etiam de omni eo, quod a dicto testatore restat habere occa-
sione sui salarj.

Item voluit, disposuit et mandavit et reliquit omnibus et
singulis hominibus et personis qui reperirentur descripti in
quodam suo libro signato A debentibus aliquid recipere vel
habere a dicto testatore, et omnibus aliis, qui legiptime osten-
derent debere habere, non obstante quod non reperirentur
descripti in dicto libro, quod eis et cuilibet ipsorum satisfiat per
infrascripto eius executores de massaritiis, rebus et bonis dicti
testatoris, exceptis libris dicti testatoris, et maxime de una domo
posita in Certaldo, cui a primo via vocata Borgho, a secundo
Fornaino Andree domini Benghi de Rubeis, a tertio la Via
JVuova, a quarto dicti testatoris vendenda per infrascriptos ejus
executores vel majorem partem ipsorum, et si hoc non sufliceret,
possint vendere de aliis suis bonis.

Item reliquit venerabili fratri Martino de Signa, Magistro in

352 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. v.

sacra theologia, conventus Sancti Spiritus Ordinis heremitarum
Sancti Augustini omnes suos libros, excepto Breviario dicti
testatoris cum ista condictione, quod dictus Magister Martinus
possit uti dictis libris, et de eis exhibere copiam cui voluerit,
donee vixerit, ad hoc ut ipse teneatur rogare Deum pro anima
dicti testatoris, et tempore suae mortis debeat consignare dictos
libros conventui fratrum Sancti Spiritus, sine aliqua diminutione,
et debeant micti in quodam armario dicti loci et ibidem debeant
perpetuo remanere ad hoc ut quilibet de dicto conventu possit
legere et studere super dictis libris, et ibi scribi facere modum et
formam presentis testamenti et facere inventarium de dicti libris.

Item reliquit et dari voluit et assignari per infrascriptos ejus
executores, et majorem partem ipsorum superviventem ex eis.
Monasterio fratrum Sanctae Mariae de Sancto Sepulcro dal
Pogetto sive dalle Campora extra muros civitatis Florentie omnes
et singulas reliquias sanctas, quae dictus dominus Johannes,
magno tempore, et cum magno labore, procuravit habere de
diversis mundi partibus.

Item reliquit operariis ecclesiae Sancti Jacobi de Certaldo pro
dicta ecclesia recipientibus unam tabulum alebastri Virginia
Mariae, unam pianetam cum istola et manipolo zendadi vermigli,
unum palium parvum pro altare drappe vermigli, cum uno guan-
cialetto pro altare cum tribus guainis corporalium.

Item unum vasum stagni pro retinendo aquam benedictam.

Item unum paliettum parvum drappi, foderatum cum fodera
zendadi gialli.

Item reliquit dominse Sandrae, uxori Francisci Lapi Bonamichi
unam tavolettam in qua est pictum signum Virginis Mariae cum
suo filio in brachio et ab alio latere uno teschio di morto.

In omnibus autem aliis suis bonis mobilibus et immobilibus
presentibus et futuris, Boccacium et Antonium ejus nepotes et
filios Jacobi Boccacii predicti de Certaldo equis portionibus, sibi
universales heredes instituit et omnes alios filios et filias, tarn
natos quam nascituros de dicto Jacobo ex legiptima uxore dicti
Jacobi una cum dictis Boccacio et Antonio equis portionibus
sibi heredes instituit cum pacto quod omnes fructus et redditus
bonorum dicti testatoris debeant duci in domo dicti Jacobi.
prout dictus Jacobus voluerit, ad hoc ut possit alere se et ejus

app.v.] BOCCACCIO'S WILL 353

uxorem et filios, quos tunc habebit, et hoc quoque pacto quod
suprascripti ejus heredes non possint, audeant, vel presumant
directe, vel indirecte, tacite vel expresse vendere vel alienare de
bonis dicti testatoris, nisi excesserint aetatem triginta annorum,
et tunc cum consensu dicti Jacobi eorum patris, si tunc viveret,
salvo quod in casu in quo vellent nubere aliquam vel aliquas
eorum sorores, et tunc fiat cum consensu infrascriptorum tutorum.

Et simili modo mandavit infrascriptis suis heredibus ne aliquo
tempore donee, et quousque invenirentur de discendentibus
Bocchaccii Chellini patris dicti testatoris, et dicti Jacobi per
lineam masculinam, etiam posito quod non essent legiptimi,
possint audeant vel presumant vendere vel alienare domum dicti
testatori, positam in populo Sancti Jacobi de Certaldo, confina-
tam a primo Via Publica, Chiamato [sic] Borgho a secundo dicti
testatoris, a tertio la Via Nuova, a quarto Guidonis Johannis de
Machiavellis.

Item unum petium terrse laborativae et partim vineatae positum
in comuni Certaldi in dicto populo Sancti Jacobi loco dicto
Valle Lizia cui a primo Fossatus, a secundo dicti testatoris et
Rustichelli Nicolai a tertio dicti testatoris, a quarto Andrea
vocato Milglotto.

Tutores seu defensores dictorum heredum Bocchacii et Antoni
licet de jure non expedit reliquit, fecit et esse voluit Jacobum
Lapi Gavaciani, Pierum Dati de Canigianis, Barducium Cheri-
chini, Franciscum Lapi Bonamichi, Leonardum Chiari domini
Bottis, Jacobum Boccacii et Angelum Turini Benciveni cives
florentinos et majorem partem ipsorum superviventem in eis.

Executores autem dicti testamenti reliquit, fecit et esse voluit
fratrem Martinum de Signa predictum, Barducium Cherichini,
Franciscum Lapi Bonamichi Angelum Turini Bencivenni, Jaco-
bum Bocchacii cives Florentinos et majorem partem ipsorum
superviventum ex eis, dans et concedens dictus testator dictis
suis executoribus et majori parti ipsorum non obstantibus omnibus
supradictis plenam baliam et liberam potestatem de bonis dicti
testatoris pro hujusmodi executione sequenda et adimplenda
vendendi et alienandi et pretium recipiendi et confitendi et de
evictione bonorum vendendorum promictendi tenutam et cor-
poralem possessionem dandi et tradendi jura et actiones dandi
2 A

354 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App.v.

et vendendi et quamlibet quantitatem pecunie petendi et re-
cipiendi et finem et remissionem de receptis faciendi, et si opus
fuerit coram quibuscumque rogandi, agendi et defendendi, et
omnia faciendi quae sub agere et causari nomine et principaliter
ordinaverit et omnia alia faciendi quae in predictis fuerint oppor-
tune

Et hanc suam ultimam voluntatem asseruit esse velle, quam
valere voluit jure testamenti, quod si jure testamenti non valeret,
seu non valebit, valeat et valebit, et ea omnia valere jussit et
voluit jure codicillorum, et cujuscumque alterius ultime voluntatis,
quo et quibus magis valere et tenere potest, seu poterit, cassans,
irritans et annullans omne aliud testamentum, et ultimam volun-
tatem actenus per eum conditum, non obstantibus aliquibus
verbis derogationis inscriptis in illo vel illis, quorum omni etiam
derogatione idem testator asseruit se penitere, et voluit hoc
presens testamentum et ultimam voluntatem prevalere omnibus
aliis testamentis, actenus per eum conditis, quo et quibus magis
et melius valere et tenere potest seu poterit.

Ego Tinellus filius olim ser Bonasere de Pasignano, civis
fiorentinus, imperiali auctoritate judex ordinarius et notarius
publicus predictis omnibus dum agerentur interfui, et ea rogatus
scripsi et publicavi, in quorum etc. me subscripsi.

APPENDIX VI

ENGLISH WORKS ON BOCCACCIO

(a) BIOGRAPHY
Creighton, M.

In The Academy, vol. i (London, 1875), P- 57°- A
review of Corazzini : Le Lettere edite e inedite.

Dubois, H.

Remarks on the Life and Writings of Boccaccio (London,
1804).

Hewlett, Maurice.

Giovanni Boccaccio as Man and Author, in The Academy,
vol. xlvi (1894), pp. 469-70.

Hutton, Edward.

Giovanni Boccaccio. Introduction to The Decameron in
The Tudor Translations (London, 1909).

-'Hutton, Edward.

Country Walks about Florence (London, 1908).
Deals with the Casa di Boccaccio, Poggio Gherardo, and
Villa Palmieri.

Landor, W. S.

The Pentameron, or Interviews of Messer Giovanni
Boccaccio and Messer Francesco Petrarca, etc. etc.
(London). Cf. also The Quarterly Review, vol. lxiv
(1839), pp. 396-406.
Owen, J.

The Skeptics of the Italian Renaissance (London, 1893),
pp. 128-47.

355

356 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. vi.

Preston, H. W., and Dodge, L.

Studies in the Correspondence of Petrarch, in The
Atlantic Monthly (Boston, U.S.A.), vol. lxxii (1893),
pp. 89, 284, and 395.

Robinson, J. H., and Rolfe, H. W.

Petrarch, the First of Modern Scholars, etc. (New York

and London, Putnams, 1898).
A selection from his correspondence with Boccaccio and
others.

Ross, Janet.

A Stroll in Boccaccio's Country, in National Review,

May, 1894, pp. 364-71.
Deals with the country about Fiesole and Settignano,

where Boccaccio spent his earliest childhood.

Symonds, J. A.

Giovanni Boccaccio as Man and Author (London, 1895).

This was, till the publication of the present work, the
fullest account of Boccaccio in English ; but it is
untrustworthy and altogether unworthy of the author.

Wilkins, E. H.

Calmeta, in Modern Language Notes, vol. xxi, no. 7.
Mr. Wilkins tries to identify Calmeta with Andalb di
Negro. See supra, p. 20.

(b) WORKS

Anon.

The Decameron of Boccaccio, in The Edinburgh Review

(i893).

Novels of the Italian Renaissance, in The Edinburgh
Review (1897).

Boccaccio as a Quarry, in The Quarterly Review,
(1898), p. 188.

app.vi.] ENGLISH WORKS ON BOCCACCIO 357

Collier, J. P.

The History of Patient Grisel : two early tracts in black-
letter, with introd. and notes. Publications of the Percy
Society \ vol. iii (London, 1842).
Cotte, C.

An Old English Version of the Decameron, in The
Athenazum (1884), no. 2954.

Cunliffe, J. W.

Gismond of Salern. Publications of the Modern Lan-
guage Association of America, vol. xxi (1906), part 2.
This deals with the origins of Decameron, iv, 1.
Dibdin, T. F.

The Bibliographical Decameron (London, 181 7).
Deals with editions of the Decameron, the Fiammetta,
and the Ameto.

Einstein, Lewis.

The Italian Renaissance in England (New York, 1902).
Deals with the influence of Boccaccio on English Renais-
sance Literature.

Garnett, R.

A History of Italian Literature (London, 1898).
Cap. vii deals with Boccaccio.

Kuhns, O.

Dante and the English Poets from Chaucer to Tennyson

(New York, 1904).
The author speaks also of Boccaccio.

MacMechan, M.

The Relation of Hans Sachs to the Decameron (Halifax,
1889).

Melhuish, W. F.

Boccaccio's " Genealogy of the Gods," in The Bookworm,
(1890), pp. 125-8.

Neilson, A. W.

The Origins and Sources of the Court of Love, in Harvard
Studies a?id Notes in Philology and Literature, vol. vi
(1899).

358 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. vi.

Neilson, A. W.

The Purgatory of Cruel Beauties : a Note on Decameron,
v, 8, in Romania, xxix, p. 85 et seq. (1900).

Scott, F. N.

Boccaccio's " De Genealogia Deorum " and Sidney's
Apologie, in Modern Language Notes, vi (1891),
part iv.

Spingarn, J. E.

A History of Literary Criticism in the Renaissance (New
York, 1899).

Stillmann, W.

The Decameron and its Villas, in The Nineteenth Century,
August, 1899.

Symonds, J. A.

The Renaissance in Italy, vol. iv (Italian Literature),
(London, 1881).

Toynbee, Paget.

Benvenuto da Imola and the Iliad and. Odyssey, in Romania,
vol. xxix (1900), No. 115.

Toynbee, Paget.

The Bibliography of Boccaccio's Genealogia Deorum, in
Athenozum, 1899, No. 3733.

Wagner, C. P.

The Sources of El Cavallero Cifar, in Revue Hispanique,
vol. x (1903), Nos. 33-4, p. 4 et seq.

Willshire, W. H.

The master of the subjects in the Bocace of 1476,
Catalogue of Early Prints in the Brit. Mus., vol.
p. 113 et seq. (London, 1883).

Woodbridge, E.

Boccaccio's Defence of Poetry as contained in Lib. X
of the De Genealogia Deorum, in Pub. of the Mod.
Lang. Assoc, of America, vol. xiii (1900), part 3.

App. vi.] ENGLISH WORKS ON BOCCACCIO 359

Cook, A. S.

The Opening of Boccaccio's Life of Dante, in Modern
Language Notes, vol. xvii (1902), pp. 276-9.

Dinsmore, C. A.

Aids to the Study of Dante (Boston, 1903). Cap. ii speaks
of Boccaccio's life of Dante.

Moore, E.

Dante and his Early Biographers (London, 1890). Cap. ii
deals with the Life and lives attributed to Boccaccio,
PP- 4-5-
Smith, T. R.

The Earliest Lives of Dante, translated from the Italian
of Giovanni Boccaccio and Leonardo Bruni Aretino
(New York, 1901).

Toynbee, P.

Boccaccio's Commentary on the Divina Commedia, in
Mod. Lang. Rev. (Cambridge, 1907), vol. ii, p. 97 et seq.

Wicksteed, P. H.

The Early Lives of Dante (London, 1907).

Witte, K.

The Two Versions of Boccaccio's Life of Dante, in Essays
on Dante, etc., p. 262 et seq. (London, 1898).

APPENDIX VII

BOCCACCIO AND CHAUCER AND
SHAKESPEARE

(a) BOCCACCIO AND CHAUCER

The standard histories, e.g. Cambridge History of English Literature ;
Jusserand, Histoire Littiraire du Peuple Anglaise ; and Ten Brink, English
Literature, I have not mentioned.

ENGLISH WORKS
Axon, W. E. A.

Italian Influence on Chaucer. In Chaucer Me7norial
Lectwes (London, Asher, 1900).
Bryant, A.

Did Boccaccio Suggest the Character of Chaucer's
Knight ? In Modern Language Notes, vol. xvii (1902),
part 8.

Buchheim, C. A.

Chaucer's Clerke's Tale and Petrarch's Version of the
Griselda Story. In Athenaum, 1894, No. 3470, p. 541
et seq.

Child, C. G.

Chaucer's House of Fame, and Boccaccio's Amorosa
Visione. In Modern Language Notes, vol. x (1895), part
6, pp. 190-2.

Child, C. G.

Chaucer's Legend of Good Women and Boccaccio's De
Genea/ogz'a Deorum. In Modern Language Notes, vol. xi
(1896).

360

■
I

app.vii.j BOCCACCIO AND CHAUCER 361

Clerke, E. M.

Boccaccio and Chaucer. In National Review, vol. viii
(1886), p. 379.

Hamilton, G. L.

The Indebtedness of Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde to
Guido delle Colonne's Historia Troiatia (New York,
1903). Speaks of the Filostrato.

Hammond, E. P.

Chaucer : a Bibliographical Manual (New York, 1908).
This is a splendid piece of work. For Chaucer and

Boccaccio, see pp. 80-81, 15 1-2, 270-3, 305-7, 398-9,

486-7.

Jusserand, J. J.

Did Chaucer meet Petrarch ? In The Nineteenth Century,
No. 232 (1899), pp. 993-1005.

Ker, W. P.

Essays in Mediaeval Literature (London, 1906).

Koch, Johann.

Essays on Chaucer, pp. 357-417 (1878).

Launsbury, Thos.

Studies in Chaucer, his Life and Writings, p. 235
(London, 1892).

Lowes, J. L.

The Prologue of the Legend of Good Women considered

in Chronological Relation.
Publications of Mod. Lang. Ass. of America, vol. xx

(1906).

Mather, A. x

Chaucer in Italy. In Modern La?iguage Notes, vol. xi
(1896).

Ogle, G.

Gualtherus and Griselda, or The Clerke of Oxford's Tale,
from Boccace, Petrarch, and Chaucer (Bristol, 1739).

362 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [Aw. vne

Falgrave, F. T.

Chaucer and the Italian Renaissance. In The Nineteenth
Century, vol. xxiv (1838), pp. 350-9.

Rossetti, W. M.

Chaucer's Troylus and Criseyde (from Harl. M.S., 3943),
compared with Boccaccio's Filostrato. Chaucer Society
(Triibner), part 1, 1875-part 2, 1883.

Tatlock, J.

Chaucer's Vitremyte. In Modern Language Notes, vol. xxi
(1906), p. 62.

Tatlock, J.

The Dates of Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde. In Modern
Philology (Chicago, 1903).

Ward, A. W.

Chaucer, (London, 1879), p. 166.

FOREIGN WORKS
Ballmann, O.

Chaucers einfluss auf das englische drama im Zeitalter der
Konigen Elisabeth und der beiden ersten Stuart-Konige.
In Anglia, Zeitschrift fur Eng. Philologie, xxv (1902),
p. 2 et seq.

Bellezza, P.

Introduzione alio studio de' fonti italiani di G. Chauc
etc. (Milano, 1895).

„.

Chiarini, C.

Dalle " Novelle di Canterbury " di G. Chaucer (Bologna,
1897).

Chiarini, C.

Intorno alle " Novelle di Canterbury " di G. Chaucer.
Nnova Antologia, vol. lxxii (1897), fasc. 21, p.
and fasc. 22, p. 325.

An. vii] BOCCACCIO AND CHAUCER 363

Demogoet, J.

Histoire des litteratures etrangeres considerees dans leurs
rapports avec le developpement de la litterature francaise.
Litteratures Meridionales. Italie-Espagne (Hachette,
1880). See cap. vi.

Engel, E.

Geschichte der englischen Litteratur von ihren Anfangen

bis auf die neueste Zeit mit einem Anhange : Die ameri-

kanische Litteratur (Leipzig, 1883).
Vol. iv of the Geschichte der Weltlitteratur in Einzeldar-

stellung. At pp. 54-76, Boccaccio and Chaucer are

spoken of; at p. 133, Boccaccio and Sackville; at p.

263, Boccaccio and Dryden, etc.

Fischer, R.

Zu den Kunstformen des mittelalterlichen Epos. Hart-
mann's Iwein, Das Nibelungenlied, Boccaccio's Filo-
strato und Chaucer's Troylus und Cryseide. In Weiner
Beitrdge zur Englischen Philologie, vol. ix (1898).

Hortis, A.

Studj sulle opere Latine di Gio. Boccaccio con particolare
riguardo alia storia delF erudizione nel medioevo e alle
litterature straniere (Trieste, 1879).

Kissner, A.

Chaucer in seinen Beziehungen zur italienischen Litteratur

(Bonn, 1867).
This is the only general study of Chaucer's indebtedness

to Italy.

Koch, T.

Chaucer Schriften. In Englische Sfudien, vol. xxxvi (1905),
part i, pp. 131-49-

Koch, J.

Ein Beitrag zur Kritik Chaucers. In Englische Studien,
vol. i (1877), pp. 249-93.

364 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO [App. vn.

Koeppel, Emil.

Boccaccio's Amorosa Visione. In Anglia (under Chaucer-
iana), vol. xiv (1892), pp. 233-8.

Landau, Marc.

Beitrage zur Geschichte der italienischen Novelle (Vienna,

1875).

Especially iv, 5.

Monnier, M.

La Renaissance de Dante a Luther (Paris, 1884).
See p. 183 et seq. for Boccaccio and Chaucer, Shake-
speare, Dryden.

Rajna, P.

Le origini della novella narrata dal " Frankeleyn " nei

Canterbury Tales del Chaucer. In Romania, xxxii

(k^). PP- 204-67.
Refers to Decameron, v, 5.

Segre, C.

Chaucer e Boccaccio. In Fanfulla della Domenica, vol
xxii (1900), p. 47.

Segre, C.

Studi petrarcheschi (Firenze, 1903).

Torraca, F.

Un passo oscuro di G. Chaucer. In Journal of Compara-
tive Literature, vol. i (1903).

Von Wlislocki, H.

Vergleichende Beitrage zu Chaucers Canter bury-Ges-
chichten. In Zeitschrift filr vergleichende Litteratur-
geschichte und Ren. Litt., N.S., ii (1889), pp. 182-99.

Willert, H.

G. Chaucer, The House of Fame. Text, Varianten, Am-

merkungen, Progr. Ostern., 1888 (Berlin, 1888).
For the Amorosa Visione and Chaucer.

app. vii.] AND SHAKESPEARE 365

(b) BOCCACCIO AND SHAKESPEARE

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