Part 13

Roderigo’s wedding was most splendid; nothing usual on such occasions was forgotten or neglected; it having been decreed before he left the dark regions, that he should be subject to all the passions of men, he soon took delight and pride in the pomp and vanities of the world, and the praises of men, the which cost him dear enough; besides this, he had not been long with his wife before he fell desperately in love with her, and was wretched if she happened to look otherwise than cheerful, or was displeased at any thing. Madonna Onesta had not only brought youth and beauty to Roderigo, but such a share of pride, that he, who was a tolerable judge, thought the pride of Lucifer himself was a mere nothing to it; this greatly increased the very instant she perceived how much her husband doated upon her, and as she thought she could rule him as she pleased, she commanded him imperiously, nor did she hesitate, if he denied her any thing, to abuse and maltreat him, the which greatly annoyed him, yet the ties of matrimony, and the love he bore her, made him endure all with patience. I make no mention of the very enormous expenses he was at to please her in new fashions, which naturally often vary in this our city, and which he was obliged to submit to for the sake of peace. He was compelled to help his father-in-law in portioning the other girls; then again, to be on good terms with her, he was compelled to equip one brother for the Levant with clothes, &c., and the other to the west with silks; and, lastly, to open a goldbeater’s shop for the third, all of which consumed the best part of his fortune. Moreover, in the carnival time and festival of St. John, when the whole city is nothing but feasting and revels, and when the noblemen treat each other with splendid entertainments, Madonna Onesta would not yield to any lady in splendour and show, but insisted that her Roderigo should outdo them all in magnificence. Quietly did Roderigo bear all these things for the reasons above-mentioned--peace and quietness; nor would he have grudged the expense, though very annoying, nay, would have even borne more, could he but have had peace in the house; or could he have waited quietly the moment of his ruin: but, on the contrary, it was quite the reverse, for besides the ruinous extravagance she led him into, her diabolical nature wearied him daily, nor was there a servant in the house that could stay any time. Roderigo, of course, suffered much in not being able to keep a single servant that could take care of his property, for the very devils he had brought with him, under the shape of servants, rather chose to return to hell, among their native fire and smoke, than dwell in the world under her controul. Roderigo going on in this dreadful way, and having wasted all his property in the above manner, began to live on the hopes of remittances from the east and west, which he expected to receive, but being put to shifts and having good credit still, he borrowed on promissory notes. At this juncture the intelligence arrived from the east and west that one of the Madonna Oliesta’s brothers had gambled away all Roderigo’s property, and that the other, on his return with a ship laden with goods uninsured, had been drowned, and the ship sunk. The instant the news was made known, the creditors assembled, and judging he was a ruined man, they being prevented from making any demands, the notes not being as yet due, agreed it was proper to keep a watchful eye over him, in order that he might not give them the slip. Roderigo, on the other hand, seeing his situation desperate, and thinking of the infernal law that bound him to this sublunary world, determined to be off at any rate. He mounted his horse one morning, and living near the gate Alprato, he rode through on his way. No sooner was his departure heard of, than the creditors were roused up to action, and applying to the magistrate, they flew with the police, and even the populace, after him. Roderigo was scarcely one mile off, when he heard the outcry behind him. Conceiving the road was but an indifferent protection, he thought that striking across the fields would be a far safer way; but in so doing he found so many ditches in his road, the which are frequent in that part, that he alighted, left his horse, and ran on foot through fields covered with vines and reeds, with which that country abounds. He arrived at Peretola, at the house of Matteo del Bricea, a labourer of Giovanni del Bene, and as chance would have it, found Matteo feeding the oxen. Roderigo begged of him to save him from the hands of his enemies, who, he said, pursued him, to take him and shut him up in gaol to die; promising him a great reward, and adding, that he would enrich him, and would, before he left him, give him such proofs that he could no longer doubt; and should he not keep his word, he would allow him to deliver him up to his pursuers. Matteo, though but a labourer, was a man of spirit, and kind-hearted; and thinking he could lose nothing by protecting him, he promised so to do, and concealed him behind a dunghill, covered him up with lumber, and sticks which he had brought for firewood. Roderigo had scarcely time to conceal himself properly, before his pursuers reached the place, who, however, could not obtain from Matteo an avowal that he had seen any such a one as they described. They, therefore, continued their way; being unsuccessful in their search, after two days pursuit, they returned back to Florence. When the bustle was over, Matteo took him out of his concealment. Roderigo said to him, “Matteo, I am under the greatest obligation to you, and will reward you, and that thou mayest believe me, I will tell thee who I am,”--upon this he related to him who he was, and the orders he received on going out of hell; his taking a wife; the eternal plague he had with her, and, moreover, the means he should use to enrich him, which was this:--when he should hear that there was a young woman possessed with the devil, to be quite assured that it was he who was within her, and that he should not cast himself from her until he himself should come, by which means he might get such payment from her friends as he might choose. Thus agreed, he disappeared. Very few days had elapsed, when it was reported in Florence that a daughter of Ambrogio Amadeo, who had married Buonijuto Zebalducci, was possessed by the devil. The friends, of course, tried all the remedies usually recurred to in such cases, such as placing the head of Saint Zarobi on her head, and Saint John of Gualberto’s cloak, which things were rendered of no avail by Roderigo, and to make it clear that the deceased had really and truly an evil spirit within her, he made her speak Latin, and hold a disputation on philosophy. She made public the sins of people, and particularly those of a monk, who had kept a female more than four years under the dress of a young friar; which things people much marveled at. Messer Ambrogio, however, was truly miserable, and had lost all hopes of a cure, when Matteo having heard of the case, came to him, and told him that if he would give him five hundred florins to purchase a little farm at Ponterolo, he would restore the lady to her perfect senses. Ambrogio accepted the offer, upon which Matteo having ordered several masses to be said, and numerous mysterious ceremonies to be performed, in order the better to conceal the business, he accosted the lady, and whispering into her ear, said, “Roderigo, I am now come to thee that thou mayest perform thy promise,” to which Roderigo answered, “but this sum is not enough to make thee rich, therefore as soon as I depart from this, I will cast myself into the daughter of Charles, King of Naples, nor will I depart from her until thou comest to me. Thou wilt then make thy own demand to the king, and after this, never trouble me more.” This said, he came forth from the lady, to the great amazement and joy of all present. It was but a few months after, that the news was spread through Italy of the accident which had befallen King Charles’s daughter. All the attempts of the monks proving ineffectual to relieve her, and the King having heard of Matteo, immediately dispatched a messenger to Florence to fetch him. Matteo arrived soon at Naples, and, after some artful practices, removed the evil spirit from the lady; but before Roderigo quitted his hold, he said, “Matteo, thou seest I have kept my word with thee in enriching thee; I therefore am now under no obligations whatever to thee; do not thou ever attempt to appear before me, because I might hereafter do thee much harm, instead of the good I have done thee.” Matteo, returning to Florence very rich, for the king had given him fifty thousand ducats, thought of enjoying his wealth in comfort, unconscious that Roderigo would ever do him any injury; but this hope was soon frustrated by news arriving that the daughter of Louis the Seventh of France was possessed of the evil spirit; this quite upset the mind of Matteo, considering the power of that king, and coupling, withal, the threat of Roderigo, if ever he appeared before him. Meanwhile, Louis unable to find a cure for his daughter, and being told of Matteo’s power of exorcism, sent at first a messenger to request his attendance; but Matteo alleging indisposition as an excuse, the king was obliged to apply to the government, who compelled Matteo to obedience. In great grief and perturbation of mind did Matteo arrive at Paris; he told the king that certainly there were such things by which he had formerly cured persons possessed with the devil, but that was not the case with all such, because there were some of so wicked a nature, that neither threats, exorcism, or religious ceremonies could move them; yet that he would certainly do his best, but, that should his endeavours prove useless, he entreated his majesty to pardon him. The king, greatly disappointed and incensed, replied, that if he did not cure his daughter, he certainly should be hanged. Matteo, of course, felt much alarmed at his ticklish situation; nevertheless, summoning up his whole stock of courage, he desired the lady might be called in, and with all humility, in a whisper, entreated Roderigo to take pity on him, reminding him of what he had formerly done by him: to which Roderigo answered, “treacherous villain, hast thou the boldness to appear before me? dost thou forget I made thee the rich man thou art? I will now show thee and the world how I can bestow gifts, and bereave mortals of them at my pleasure, and before thou quittest this place, I’ll have thee gibbeted.” Matteo, conceiving he was lost, and seeing no other means of escape, determined to try his fortune in another way; therefore, desiring the lady might be dismissed, he said to the king, “Sire, I have already told your majesty, that there are such malignant spirits, against which nothing will avail, and this is one; however, I will try one last experiment, which, should it succeed, will make your majesty and myself most happy; should it fail, I hope your majesty will feel that compassion towards me that my innocence deserves. To this effect your majesty will please to order that a large platform be erected at the piazza of _Our Lady_, large enough to contain all your barons and clergy, decking the railing with cloths, silks, and gold fringes; in the middle of this platform I wish an altar to be placed, and on Sunday morning next I wish your majesty to attend in solemn and royal pomp, with all your barons and clergy in their richest canonicals, when high mass shall be chaunted, and the lady brought forth. Besides these things, I do request that a group of at least twenty persons be placed at one corner of the square, with each a trumpet, horn, bugle, cymbals, drums, kettle-drums, or other terrific instruments, who, at the waving of my hat, shall immediately strike up and walk on towards the platform; this and certain other exorcisms will, I hope, drive the evil spirit from the lady.” Every thing was ordered by his majesty which Matteo desired; on the Sunday morning the king, barons, clergy, and populace being assembled, the mass was celebrated, and the lady brought up to the platform by two bishops, and several noblemen. Roderigo, when he beheld such a multitude collected together, was almost confounded: “what the devil does this dastardly scoundrel mean to do,” said he to himself; “does he think to frighten me by all this show and bustle; does he not know that I am used to the pomp and splendour of heaven, and the fire and furies of hell? but I will punish him, that I will.” Matteo approached him, and entreated him to be gone.

“What do you mean,” said Roderigo, “do you think to terrify me by all these preparations? dost thou think to shelter thyself from my power and the king’s rage? Wretch! scoundrel that thou art! I will have thee hanged, cost what it may,” and at it they went, abusing each other, till at last Matteo thought it would be useless to lose any more time, and gave the signal by waving his hat. All those that had been ordered played up, and with an infernal noise approached the scaffold. Roderigo, at this horrid cry and noise, pricked up his ears, and remained stupified, not knowing what it could be, and asking Matteo what all that meant. Matteo, seeming quite alarmed, said, “Oh, Roderigo, _it is your wife, it is your wife_ that is coming to you!” At the hearing of his wife’s name, no one would credit the agitation, fright, and terror it threw him into; and without considering the improbability of its being so, he was so thunderstruck that he instantly made off in a bustle, and left the lady _free_, preferring to go back to hell and give an account of his mission, to encountering the vexations, spite, troubles, hardships, and dangers to which the marriage yoke had subjected him. Thus Belphagor returned to the infernal regions, gave a true and circumstantial account of all the evils which a wife brings into a house, and Matteo, highly delighted at his exploit, and at having outwitted the devil, returned home in raptures.

THE SLEEPING DRAUGHT

There was in Siena, not many years ago, a young man, the son of respectable parents, named Marriotto Mignelli, who fell violently in love with a young lady by name Gianozza, the daughter of one of the most respectable and worthy citizens, descended from the family of the Saraceni; in the course of time his assiduity and constancy were returned by the lady with equal ardour. They, for some time, remained satisfied with the joys of reciprocal protestations, and the sight of each other alone was a blessing beyond their most ardent wishes,--but this lasted but a short time; in what manner they should proceed to complete their views of happiness they could not devise, knowing the repulse they should meet from the parents of the lady. At last Gianozza, who was as prudent as she was handsome, resolved on secretly being married to him, and thus, should they be detected, to sanction their secret intrigue under the cloak of a marriage. In order to accomplish this object, they bribed an Augustin friar, by whose means they were united. Having, for a time, enjoyed the fruits of this sly, and partly unlawful marriage, it happened that fortune, contrary to their expectations, turned all their joys to bitter sorrow. Marriotto one day coming to high words with a respectable citizen, blows ensued, and Marriotto unfortunately struck the man a severe blow with his stick on the head, of which the unhappy man died a few days after: Marriotto, therefore, carefully concealed himself. As the sbirri, who were sent in quest of him, could not find him, he was outlawed by the magistrates, and condemned to die if found within their jurisdiction.

What were the sorrows of the loving pair, may more easily be conceived than described; the bitter tears that were shed at their parting, under the impression they never should meet again, would have melted a heart of stone; and, in their last embrace, they both seemed expiring in each other’s arms. At length Marriotto tried to comfort his mournful bride, by intimating a hope that, by some fortunate event, he might return to his country. He, at last, determined not only to absent himself from Tuscany, but to fly from Italy altogether, and go over to Alexandria to an uncle, named Mignanelli, he had there, a great merchant. After settling with his wife on the best means of carrying on a correspondence between them, the unhappy couple parted in tears. The distracted Marriotto made his way to the nearest port, to set sail for Alexandria, after leaving a letter for his brother, to inform him of the whole secret. He most pressingly entreated him carefully to watch over the safety of his dear Gianozza, and to protect her. In due time he arrived at Alexandria, was kindly received by his uncle, and related his misfortunes to him; Mignanelli was much grieved, not so much at the murder of the man, as on account of the offence given to the relations of the lady by this secret union, and whose power was much to be dreaded; but thinking it was useless to reproach him for things past, they endeavoured to quiet each other’s minds. The uncle initiated him in trade, and having every month letters constantly from his beloved Gianozza, and now and then seeing his brother, he was comparatively happy. In the interim, the father of Gianozza being solicited and importuned by many to marry his daughter, she continually objected to one, then to another; being at last pressed by her father to choose a husband, and, in such a manner, that it would have been needless to resist, she became almost distracted; to tell the truth would have but added fuel to fire. In this dreadful situation, a thought struck her, not only dangerous and cruel, but, perhaps, never yet heard of. She told her father she was ready to obey his commands, and immediately went to the friar Augustin, who had favoured their scheme, and cautiously imparted to him her project, and entreated his assistance; upon which he assumed that modest caution and timidity natural to the cloth, and, by some, highly admired; and humm’d and hah’d, but the enchanting powers of a well lined purse soon emboldened him, and he manfully entered into the scheme. He hastened home and made up (for he was an adept in the science) a draught, that not only would send a person to sleep for three days, but would give the real appearance of a corpse; having made up this draught, he sent it to the lady, with proper directions. Gianozza wrote a letter to Marriotto, to inform him of every particular the friar had done by her express command; then swallowed the draught, which, in a short time, threw her into a stupor, and she fell as if dead amidst her women; their cries soon brought her father and all the family into the room; the distracted old man sent for medical assistance, but nothing could avail; she was to all appearance dead, and the doctors were of opinion it was from the gout that had seized the chest.

The next day, and the succeeding one, she was carefully watched, to see if any signs of life appeared, but none being visible, to the great grief of her aged parent, and amidst the tears and lamentations of friends and relations, she was buried in the church of St. Augustin. About midnight the friar, assisted by one of his trusty brethren, took her out of the coffin into his room, and at the hour when the operation of the draught must be nearly over, they, by friction and other means, restored her to life. Being completely revived to sense and feeling in a few days, dressed in a friar’s garment, she set forth with the Augustin friar to port Pisano, where they found the galley Aquamorta, that was to touch at Alexandria in her voyage. Having taken their passage, they embarked forthwith, but as navigation is very precarious, and merchant vessels are often detained by landing, or freighting goods, contrary winds, and other casualties, they did not arrive till some months later than they expected.

The unfortunate Marriotto had, however, received, by several merchants, letters from Gargano his brother, who anxious to keep up the correspondence he had promised, had written to him every particular of the melancholy event, adding, that the afflicted and broken-hearted old father had died with grief. On the other hand, the vessel by which Gianozza’s letter had been sent was carrying corn to Alexandria, and was taken by pirates. Having no other information than his brother’s, he concluded it was all as stated in his letters. Reader, if thou hast a heart, thou wilt easily picture to thyself the distraction of Marriotto; so overpowering were his sorrows, that he determined not to outlive his misfortune, and in spite of his uncle’s entreaties, he resolved to return to Siena, to conceal himself in disguise, and there, where he thought his dear Gianozza lay, to bathe her tomb with his tears, and die. He embarked in a Venetian galley that was sailing to Naples; being arrived there, he went by land into Tuscany, entered Siena unknown, in a pilgrim’s dress, and without going to any of his relations, went to the church of St. Augustin, where his beloved had been buried; there he wept and lamented, and would fain have buried himself with her in the tomb.