Stories from Pentamerone
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Giambattista Basile >> Stories from Pentamerone
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17 Transcribed by Batsy Bybell, cgale@turbonet.com
Stories from Pentamerone
by Giambattista Basile
NOTE
The collection of folk-tales known as Il Pentamerone was first
published at Naples and in the Neopolitan dialect, by Giambattista
Basile, Conte di Torrone, who is believed to have collected them
chiefly in Crete and Venice, and to have died about the year 1637.
CONTENTS
1. How the Tales came to be told
2. The Myrtle
3. Peruonto
4. Vardiello
5. The Flea
6. Cenerentola
7. The Merchant
8. Goat-Face
9. The Enchanted Doe
10. Parsley
11. The Three Sisters
12. Violet
13. Pippo
14. The Serpent
15. The She-Bear
16. The Dove
17. Cannetella
18. Corvetto
19. The Booby
20. The Stone in the Cock's Head
21. The Three Enchanted Princes
22. The Dragon
23. The Two Cakes
24. The Seven Doves
25. The Raven
26. The Months
27. Pintosmalto
28. The Golden Root
29. Sun, Moon, and Talia
30. Nennillo and Nennella
31. The Three Citrons
32. Conclusion
I
HOW THE TALES CAME TO BE TOLD
It is an old saying, that he who seeks what he should not, finds
what he would not. Every one has heard of the ape who, in trying
to pull on his boots, was caught by the foot. And it happened in
like manner to a wretched slave, who, although she never had
shoes to her feet, wanted to wear a crown on her head. But the
straight road is the best; and, sooner or later, a day comes which
settles all accounts. At last, having by evil means usurped what
belonged to another, she fell to the ground; and the higher she had
mounted, the greater was her fall--as you shall see.
Once upon a time the King of Woody Valley had a daughter
named Zoza, who was never seen to laugh. The unhappy father,
who had no other comfort in life but this only daughter, left
nothing untried to drive away her melancholy. So he sent for folks
who walk on stilts, fellows who jump through hoops, for boxers,
for conjurers, for jugglers who perform sleight-of-hand tricks, for
strong men, for dancing dogs, for leaping clowns, for the donkey
that drinks out of a tumbler--in short, he tried first one thing and
then another to make her laugh. But all was time lost, for nothing
could bring a smile to her lips.
So at length the poor father, at wit's end, and to make a last trial,
ordered a large fountain of oil to be set in front of the palace gates,
thinking to himself that when the oil ran down the street, along
which the people passed like a troop of ants, they would be
obliged, in order not to soil their clothes, to skip like grasshoppers,
leap like goats, and run like hares; while one would go picking and
choosing his way, and another go creeping along the wall. In short,
he hoped that something might come to pass to make his daughter
laugh.
So the fountain was made; and as Zoza was one day standing at the
window, grave and demure, and looking as sour as vinegar, there
came by chance an old woman, who, soaking up the oil with a
sponge, began to fill a little pitcher which she had brought with
her. And as she was labouring hard at this ingenious device, a
young page of the court passing by threw a stone so exactly to a
hair that he hit the pitcher and broke it to pieces. Whereupon the
old woman, who had no hair on her tongue, turned to the page, full
of wrath, and exclaimed, "Ah, you impertinent young dog, you
mule, you gallows-rope, you spindle-legs! Ill luck to you! May you
be pierced by a Catalan lance! May a thousand ills befall you and
something more to boot, you thief, you knave!"
The lad, who had little beard and less discretion, hearing this string
of abuse, repaid the old woman in her own coin, saying, "Have you
done, you grandmother of witches, you old hag, you child-strangler!"
When the old woman heard these compliments she flew into such
a rage that, losing hold of the bridle and escaping from the stable
of patience, she acted as if she were mad, cutting capers in the air
and grinning like an ape. At this strange spectacle Zoza burst into
such a fit of laughter that she well-nigh fainted away. But when the
old woman saw herself played this trick, she flew into a passion,
and turning a fierce look on Zoza she exclaimed: "May you never
have the least little bit of a husband, unless you take the Prince of
Round-Field."
Upon hearing this, Zoza ordered the old woman to be called; and
desired to know whether, in her words, she had laid on her a curse,
or had only meant to insult her. And the old woman answered,
"Know then, that the Prince of whom I spoke is a most handsome
creature, and is named Taddeo, who, by the wicked spell of a fairy,
having given the last touch to the picture of life, has been placed in
a tomb outside the walls of the city; and there is an inscription
upon a stone, saying that whatever woman shall in three days fill
with tears a pitcher that hangs there upon a hook will bring the
Prince to life and shall take him for a husband. But as it is
impossible for two human eyes to weep so much as to fill a pitcher
that would hold half a barrel, I have wished you this wish in return
for your scoffing and jeering at me. And I pray that it may come to
pass, to avenge the wrong you have done me." So saying, she
scuttled down the stairs, for fear of a beating.
Zoza pondered over the words of the old woman, and after turning
over a hundred thoughts in her mind, until her head was like a mill
full of doubts, she was at last struck by a dart of the passion that
blinds the judgment and puts a spell on the reasoning of man. She
took a handful of dollars from her father's coffers and left the
palace, walking on and on, until she arrived at the castle of a fairy,
to whom she unburdened her heart. The fairy, out of pity for such a
fair young girl, who had two spurs to make her fall--little help and
much love for an unknown object--gave her a letter of
recommendation to a sister of hers, who was also a fairy. And this
second fairy received her likewise with great kindness; and on the
following morning, when Night commands the birds to proclaim
that whoever has seen a flock of black shadows gone astray shall
be well rewarded, she gave her a beautiful walnut, saying, "Take
this, my dear daughter, and keep it carefully; but never open it, but
in time of the greatest need." And then she gave her also a letter,
commending her to another sister.
After journeying a long way, Zoza arrived at this fairy's castle, and
was received with the same affection. And the next morning this
fairy likewise gave her a letter to another sister, together with a
chestnut, cautioning her in the same manner. Then Zoza travelled
on to the next castle, where she was received with a thousand
caresses and given a filbert, which she was never to open, unless
the greatest necessity obliged her. So she set out upon her journey,
and passed so many forests and rivers, that at the end of seven
years, just at the time of day when the Sun, awakened by the
coming of the cocks, has saddled his steed to run his accustomed
stages, she arrived almost lame at Round-Field.
There, at the entrance to the city, she saw a marble tomb, at the
foot of a fountain, which was weeping tears of crystal at seeing
itself shut up in a porphyry prison. And, lifting up the pitcher, she
placed it in her lap and began to weep into it, imitating the
fountain to make two little fountains of her eyes. And thus she
continued without ever raising her head from the mouth of the
pitcher--until, at the end of two days, it was full within two inches
of the top. But, being wearied with so much weeping, she was
unawares overtaken by sleep, and was obliged to rest for an hour
or so under the canopy of her eyes.
Meanwhile a certain Slave, with the legs of a grasshopper, came,
as she was wont, to the fountain, to fill her water-cask. Now she
knew the meaning of the fountain which was talked of
everywhere; and when she saw Zoza weeping so incessantly, and
making two little streams from her eyes, she was always watching
and spying until the pitcher should be full enough for her to add
the last drops to it; and thus to leave Zoza cheated of her hopes.
Now, therefore, seeing Zoza asleep, she seized her opportunity;
and dexterously removing the pitcher from under Zoza, and
placing her own eyes over it, she filled it in four seconds. But
hardly was it full, when the Prince arose from the white marble
shrine, as if awakened from a deep sleep, and embraced that mass
of dark flesh, and carried her straightways to his palace; feasts and
marvellous illuminations were made, and he took her for his wife.
When Zoza awoke and saw the pitcher gone, and her hopes with it,
and the shrine open, her heart grew so heavy that she was on the
point of unpacking the bales of her soul at the custom-house of
Death. But, at last, seeing that there was no help for her
misfortune, and that she could only blame her own eyes, which
had served her so ill, she went her way, step by step, into the city.
And when she heard of the feasts which the Prince had made, and
the dainty creature he had married, she instantly knew how all this
mischief had come to pass; and said to herself, sighing, "Alas, two
dark things have brought me to the ground,--sleep and a black
slave!" Then she took a fine house facing the palace of the Prince;
from whence, though she could not see the idol of her heart, she
could at least look upon the walls wherein what she sighed for was
enclosed.
But Taddeo, who was constantly flying like a bat round that black
night of a Slave, chanced to perceive Zoza and was entranced with
her beauty. When the Slave saw this she was beside herself with
rage, and vowed that if Taddeo did not leave the window, she
would kill her baby when it was born.
Taddeo, who was anxiously desiring an heir, was afraid to offend
his wife and tore himself away from the sight of Zoza; who seeing
this little balm for the sickness of her hopes taken away from her,
knew not, at first, what to do. But, recollecting the fairies' gifts,
she opened the walnut, and out of it hopped a little dwarf like a
doll, the most graceful toy that was ever seen in the world. Then,
seating himself upon the window, the dwarf began to sing with
such a trill and gurgling, that he seemed a veritable king of the
birds.
The Slave, when she saw and heard this, was so enraptured that,
calling Taddeo, she said, "Bring me the little fellow who is singing
yonder, or I will kill the child when it is born." So the Prince, who
allowed this ugly woman to put the saddle on his back, sent
instantly to Zoza, to ask if she would not sell the dwarf. Zoza
answered she was not a merchant, but that he was welcome to it as
a gift. So Taddeo accepted the offer, for he was anxious to keep
his wife in good humour.
Four days after this, Zoza opened the chestnut, when out came a
hen with twelve little chickens, all of pure gold, and, being placed
on the window, the Slave saw them and took a vast fancy to them;
and calling Taddeo, she showed him the beautiful sight, and again
ordered him to procure the hen and chickens for her. So Taddeo,
who let himself be caught in the web, and become the sport of the
ugly creature, sent again to Zoza, offering her any price she might
ask for the beautiful hen. But Zoza gave the same answer as
before, that he might have it as a gift. Taddeo, therefore, who
could not do otherwise, made necessity kick at discretion, and
accepted the beautiful present.
But after four days more, Zoza opened the hazel-nut, and forth
came a doll which spun gold--an amazing sight. As soon as it was
placed at the same window, the Slave saw it and, calling to
Taddeo, said, "I must have that doll, or I will kill the child."
Taddeo, who let his proud wife toss him about like a shuttle, had
nevertheless not the heart to send to Zoza for the doll, but resolved
to go himself, recollecting the sayings: "No messenger is better
than yourself," and "Let him who would eat a fish take it by the
tail." So he went and besought Zoza to pardon his impertinence,
on account of the caprices of his wife; and Zoza, who was in
ecstasies at beholding the cause of her sorrow, put a constraint on
herself; and so let him entreat her the longer to keep in sight the
object of her love, who was stolen from her by an ugly slave. At
length she gave him the doll, as she had done the other things, but
before placing it in his hands, she prayed the little doll to put a
desire into the heart of the Slave to hear stories told by her. And
when Taddeo saw the doll in his hand, without his paying a single
coin, he was so filled with amazement at such courtesy that he
offered his kingdom and his life in exchange for the gift. Then,
returning to his palace, he placed it in his wife's hands; and
instantly such a longing seized her to hear stories told, that she
called her husband and said, "Bid some story-tellers come and tell
me stories, or I promise you, I will kill the child."
Taddeo, to get rid of this madness, ordered a proclamation
instantly to be made, that all the women of the land should come
on the appointed day. And on that day, at the hour when the star of
Venus appears, who awakes the Dawn, to strew the road along
which the Sun has to pass, the ladies were all assembled at the
palace. But Taddeo, not wishing to detain such a rabble for the
mere amusement of his wife, chose ten only of the best of the city
who appeared to him most capable and eloquent. These were
Bushy-haired Zeza, Bandy-legged Cecca, Wen-necked Meneca,
Long-nosed Tolla, Humph-backed Popa, Bearded Antonella,
Dumpy Ciulla, Blear-eyed Paola, Bald-headed Civonmetella, and
Square-shouldered Jacova. Their names he wrote down on a sheet
of paper; and then, dismissing the others, he arose with the Slave
from under the canopy, and they went gently to the garden of the
palace, where the leafy branches were so closely interlaced, that
the Sun could not separate them with all the industry of his rays.
And seating themselves under a pavilion, formed by a trellis of
vines, in the middle of which ran a great fountain--the
schoolmaster of the courtiers, whom he taught everyday to
murmur--Taddeo thus began:
"There is nothing in the world more glorious, my gentle dames,
than to listen to the deeds of others; nor was it without reason that
the great philosopher placed the highest happiness of man in
listening to pretty stories. In hearing pleasing things told, griefs
vanish, troublesome thoughts are put to flight and life is
lengthened. And, for this reason, you see the artisans leave their
workshops, the merchants their country-houses, the lawyers their
cases, the shopkeepers their business, and all repair with open
mouths to the barbers' shops and to the groups of chatterers, to
listen to stories, fictions, and news in the open air. I cannot,
therefore, but pardon my wife, who has taken this strange fancy
into her head of hearing the telling of tales. So, if you will be
pleased to satisfy the whim of the Princess and comply with my
wishes, you will, during the next four or five days, .each of you
relate daily one of those tales which old women are wont to tell for
the amusement of the little ones. And you will come regularly to
this spot; where, after a good repast, you shall begin to tell stories,
so as to pass life pleasantly--and sorrow to him that dies!"
At these words, all bowed assent to the commands of Taddeo; and
the tables being meanwhile set out and feast spread, they sat down
to eat. And when they had done eating, the Prince took the paper
and calling on each in turn, by name, the stories that follow were
told, in due order.
II
THE MYRTLE
There lived in the village of Miano a man and his wife, who had
no children whatever, and they longed with the greatest eagerness
to have an heir. The woman, above all, was for ever saying, "O
heavens! if I might but have a little baby--I should not care, were it
even a sprig of a myrtle." And she repeated this song so often, and
so wearied Heaven with these words, that at last her wish was
granted; and at the end of nine months, instead of a little boy or
girl, she placed in the hands of the nurse a fine sprig of myrtle.
This she planted with great delight in a pot, ornamented with ever
so many beautiful figures, and set it in the window, tending it
morning and evening with more diligence than the gardener does a
bed of cabbages from which he reckons to pay the rent of his
garden.
Now the King's son happening to pass by, as he was going to hunt,
took a prodigious fancy to this beautiful plant, and sent to ask the
mistress of the house if she would sell it, for he would give even
one of his eyes for it. The woman at last, after a thousand
difficulties and refusals, allured by his offers, dazzled by his
promises, frightened by his threats, overcome by his prayers, gave
him the pot, beseeching him to hold it dear, for she loved it more
than a daughter, and valued it as much as if it were her own
offspring. Then the Prince had the flower-pot carried with the
greatest care in the world into his own chamber, and placed it in a
balcony, and tended and watered it with his own hand.
It happened one evening, when the Prince had gone to bed, and put
out the candles, and all were at rest and in their first sleep, that he
heard the sound of some one stealing through the house, and
coming cautiously towards his bed; whereat he thought it must be
some chamber-boy coming to lighten his purse for him, or some
mischievous imp to pull the bed-clothes off him. But as he was a
bold fellow, whom none could frighten, he acted the dead cat,
waiting to see the upshot of the affair. When he perceived the
object approach nearer, and stretching out his hand felt something
smooth, and instead of laying hold, as he expected, on the prickles
of a hedgehog, he touched a little creature more soft and fine than
Barbary wool, more pliant and tender than a marten's tail, more
delicate than thistle-down, he flew from one thought to another,
and taking her to be a fairy (as indeed she was), he conceived at
once a great affection for her. The next morning, before the Sun,
like a chief physician, went out to visit the flowers that are sick
and languid, the unknown fair one rose and disappeared, leaving
the Prince filled with curiosity and wonder.
But when this had gone on for seven days, he was burning and
melting with desire to know what good fortune this was that the
stars had showered down on him, and what ship freighted with the
graces of Love it was that had come to its moorings in his
chamber. So one night, when the fair maiden was fast asleep, he
tied one of her tresses to his arm, that she might not escape; then
he called a chamberlain, and bidding him light the candles, he saw
the flower of beauty, the miracle of women, the looking-glass and
painted egg of Venus, the fair bait of Love--he saw a little doll, a
beautiful dove, a Fata Morgana, a banner--he saw a golden trinket,
a hunter, a falcon's eye, a moon in her fifteenth day, a pigeon's
bill, a morsel for a king, a jewel--he saw, in short, a sight to amaze
one.
In astonishment he cried, "O sleep, sweet sleep! heap poppies on
the eyes of this lovely jewel; interrupt not my delight in viewing as
long as I desire this triumph of beauty. O lovely tress that binds
me! O lovely eyes that inflame me! O lovely lips that refresh me!
O lovely bosom that consoles me! Oh where, at what shop of the
wonders of Nature, was this living statue made? What India gave
the gold for these hairs? What Ethiopia the ivory to form these
brows? What seashore the carbuncles that compose these eyes?
What Tyre the purple to dye this face? What East the pearls to
string these teeth? And from what mountains was the snow taken
to sprinkle over this bosom--snow contrary to nature, that nurtures
the flowers and burns hearts?"
So saying he made a vine of his arms, and clasping her neck, she
awoke from her sleep and replied, with a gentle smile, to the sigh
of the enamoured Prince; who, seeing her open her eyes, said, "O
my treasure, if viewing without candles this temple of love I was
in transports, what will become of my life now that you have
lighted two lamps? O beauteous eyes, that with a trump-card of
light make the stars bankrupt, you alone have pierced this heart,
you alone can make a poultice for it like fresh eggs! O my lovely
physician, take pity, take pity on one who is sick of love; who,
having changed the air from the darkness of night to the light of
this beauty, is seized by a fever; lay your hand on this heart, feel
my pulse, give me a prescription. But, my soul, why do I ask for a
prescription? I desire no other comfort than a touch of that little
hand; for I am certain that with the cordial of that fair grace, and
with the healing root of that tongue of thine, I shall be sound and
well again."
At these words the lovely fairy grew as red as fire, and replied,
"Not so much praise, my lord Prince! I am your servant, and would
do anything in the world to serve that kingly face; and I esteem it
great good fortune that from a bunch of myrtle, set in a pot of
earth, I have become a branch of laurel hung over the inn-door of a
heart in which there is so much greatness and virtue."
The Prince, melting at these words like a tallow-candle, began
again to embrace her; and sealing the latter with a kiss, he gave her
his hand, saying, "Take my faith, you shall be my wife, you shall
be mistress of my sceptre, you shall have the key of this heart, as
you hold the helm of this life." After these and a hundred other
ceremonies and discourses they arose. And so it went on for
several days.
But as spoil-sport, marriage-parting Fate is always a hindrance to
the steps of Love, it fell out that the Prince was summoned to hunt
a great wild boar which was ravaging the country. So he was
forced to leave his wife. But as he loved her more than his life, and
saw that she was beautiful beyond all beautiful things, from this
love and beauty there sprang up the feeling of jealousy, which is a
tempest in the sea of love, a piece of soot that falls into the pottage
of the bliss of lovers--which is a serpent that bites, a worm that
gnaws, a gall that poisons, a frost that kills, making life always
restless, the mind unstable, the heart ever suspicious. So, calling
the fairy, he said to her, "I am obliged, my heart, to be away from
home for two or three days; Heaven knows with how much grief I
tear myself from you, who are my soul; and Heaven knows too
whether, ere I set out, my life may not end; but as I cannot help
going, to please my father, I must leave you. I, therefore, pray you,
by all the love you bear me, to go back into the flower-pot, and not
to come out of it till I return, which will be as soon as possible."
"I will do so," said the fairy, "for I cannot and will not refuse what
pleases you. Go, therefore, and may the mother of good luck go
with you, for I will serve you to the best of my power. But do me
one favour; leave a thread of silk with a bell tied to the top of the
myrtle, and when you come back pull the thread and ring, and
immediately I will come out and say, Here I am.'"
The Prince did so, and then calling a chamberlain, said to him,
"Come hither, come hither, you! Open your ears and mind what I
say. Make this bed every evening, as if I were myself to sleep in it.
Water this flower-pot regularly, and mind, I have counted the
leaves, and if I find one missing I will take from you the means of
earning your bread." So saying he mounted his horse, and went,
like a sheep that is led to the slaughter, to follow a boar. In the
meanwhile seven wicked women, with whom the Prince had been
acquainted, began to grow jealous; and being curious to pry into
the secret, they sent for a mason, and for a good sum of money got
him to make an underground passage from their house into the
Prince's chamber. Then these cunning jades went through the
passage in order to explore. But finding nothing, they opened the
window; and when they saw the beautiful myrtle standing there,
each of them plucked a leaf from it; but the youngest took off the
entire top, to which the little bell was hung; and the moment it was
touched the bell tinkled and the fairy, thinking it was the Prince,
immediately came out.
As soon as the wicked women saw this lovely creature they
fastened their talons on her, crying, "You are she who turns to your
own mill the stream of our hopes! You it is who have stolen the
favour of the Prince! But you are come to an end of your tricks, my
fine lady! You are nimble enough in running off, but you are
caught in your tricks this time, and if you escape, you were never
born."
So saying, they flew upon her, and instantly tore her in pieces, and
each of them took her part. But the youngest would not join in this
cruel act; and when she was invited by her sisters to do as they did,
she would take nothing but a lock of those golden hairs. So when
they had done they went quickly away by the passage through
which they had come.
Meanwhile the chamberlain came to make the bed and water the
flower-pot, according to his master's orders, and seeing this pretty
piece of work, he had like to have died of terror. Then, biting his
nails with vexation, he set to work, gathered up the remains of the
flesh and bones that were left, and scraping the blood from the
floor, he piled them all up in a heap in the pot; and having watered
it, he made the bed, locked the door, put the key under the door,
and taking to his heels ran away out of the town.
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