Anger

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  Luther sent the book to Pope Leo X., who was too worldly-minded a man to appreciate it; and accompanied the same with a most singular and undiplomatic, yet powerful polemic letter, which, if the Pope ever read it, must have filled him with mingled feelings of indignation and disgust. In his first letter to the Pope (1518), Luther had thrown himself at his feet as an obedient son of the vicar of Christ; in his second letter (1519), he still had addressed him as a humble subject, yet refusing to recant his conscientious convictions: in his third and last letter he addressed him as an equal, speaking to him with great respect for his personal character (even beyond his deserts), but denouncing in the severest terms the Roman See, and comparing him to a lamb among wolves, and to Daniel in the den of lions. The Popes, he says, are vicars of Christ because Christ is absent from Rome.254 Miltitz and the Augustinian brethren, who urged him to write an apologetic letter to Leo, must have been sorely disappointed; for it destroyed all prospects of reconciliation, if they had not been destroyed already. After some complimentary words about Leo, and protesting that he had never spoken disrespectfully of his person, Luther goes on to say, — "The Church of Rome, formerly the most holy of all churches, has become the most lawless den of thieves, the most shameless of all brothels, the very kingdom of sin, death, and hell; so that not even Antichrist, if he were to come, could devise any addition to its wickedness. "Meanwhile you, Leo, are sitting like a lamb in the midst of wolves, like Daniel in the midst of lions, and, with Ezekiel, you dwell among scorpions. What opposition can you alone make to these monstrous evils? Take to yourself three or four of the most learned and best of the cardinals. What are these among so many? You would all perish by poison, before you could undertake to decide on a remedy. It is all over with the court of Rome: the wrath of God has come upon her to the uttermost. She hates Councils, she dreads to be reformed, she cannot restrain the madness of her impiety; she fills up the sentence passed on her mother, of whom it is said, ’We would have healed Babylon, but she is not healed; let us forsake her.’ It had been your duty, and that of your cardinals, to apply a remedy to these evils; but this gout laughs at the physician’s hand, and the chariot does not obey the reins. Under the influence of these feelings I have always grieved that you, most excellent Leo, who were worthy of a better age, have been made pontiff in this. For the Roman court is not worthy of you and those like you, but of Satan himself, who in truth is more the ruler in that Babylon than you are.

• From The Well of Loneliness (1928)

  And what of the women who had worked in the war—those quiet, gaunt women she had seen about London? England had called them and they had come; for once, unabashed, they had faced the daylight. And now because they were not prepared to slink back and hide in their holes and corners, the very public whom they had served was the first to turn round and spit upon them; to cry: ‘Away with this canker in our midst, this nest of unrighteousness and corruption!’ That was the gratitude they had received for the work they had done out of love for England! And what of that curious craving for religion which so often went hand in hand with inversion? Many such people were deeply religious, and this surely was one of their bitterest problems. They believed, and believing they craved a blessing on what to some of them seemed very sacred—a faithful and deeply devoted union. But the church’s blessing was not for them. Faithful they might be, leading orderly lives, harming no one, and yet the church turned away; her blessings were strictly reserved for the normal. Then Stephen would come to the thing of all others that to her was the most agonizing question. Youth, what of youth? Where could it turn for its natural and harmless recreations? There was Dickie West and many more like her, vigorous, courageous and kind-hearted youngsters; yet shut away from so many of the pleasures that belonged by right to every young creature—and more pitiful still was the lot of a girl who, herself being normal, gave her love to an invert. The young had a right to their innocent pleasures, a right to social companionship; had a right, indeed, to resent isolation. But here, as in all the great cities of the world, they were isolated until they went under; until, in their ignorance and resentment, they turned to the only communal life that a world bent upon their destruction had left them; turned to the worst elements of their kind, to those who haunted the bars of Paris. Their lovers were helpless, for what could they do? Empty-handed they were, having nothing to offer. And even the tolerant normal were helpless—those who went to Valérie’s parties, for instance. If they had sons and daughters, they left them at home; and considering all things, who could blame them? While as for themselves, they were far too old—only tolerant, no doubt because they were ageing. They could not provide the frivolities for which youth had a perfectly natural craving. In spite of herself, Stephen’s voice would tremble, and Valérie would know that she was thinking of Mary.

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  Ulrich von Hutten was almost equal to Luther in literary power, eloquence, wit, and sarcasm, as well as in courage, and aided him with all his might from the Ebernburg during his trial at Worms; but he weakened his cause by want of principle. He had previously republished and ridiculed the Pope’s bull of excommunication. He now attacked the edict of Worms, and wrote invectives against its authors, the papal legates, and its supporters, the bishops.407 He told the former how foolish it was to proceed with such impudence and violence against Luther, in opposition to the spirit of the age, that the time of revenge would soon come; that the Germans were by no means so blind and indifferent as they imagined; that the young Emperor would soon come to a better knowledge. He indignantly reminded Aleander of his shameful private utterance (which was also reported to Luther by Spalatin), that, if the Germans should shake off the papal yoke, Rome would take care to sow so much seed of discord among them that they would eat each other up. He reproached the archbishops and higher clergy for using force instead of persuasion, the secular magistrate instead of the word of Christ against Luther. He told them that they were no real priests; that they had bought their dignities; that they violated common morality; that they were carnal, worldly, avaricious; that they were unable or ashamed to preach the gospel which condemned their conduct, and that if God raised a preacher like Luther, they sought to oppress him. But the measure is full. "Away with you," he exclaims, "ye unclean hogs, away from the pure fountains! Away with you, wicked traffickers, from the sanctuary! Touch no longer the altars with your profane hands! What right have ye to waste the pious benefactions of our fathers in luxury, fornication, and vain pomp, while many honest and pious people are starving? The measure is full. See ye not that the air of freedom is stirring, that men, disgusted with the present state of things, demand improvement? Luther and I may perish at your hands, but what of that? There are many more Luthers and Huttens who will take revenge, and raise a new and more violent reformation." He added, however, to the second edition, a sort of apologetic letter to Albrecht, the head of the German archbishops, his former friend and patron, assuring him of his continued friendship, and expressing regret that he should have been alienated from the protection of the cause of progress and liberty.

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  But, on the other hand, the Theses were strongly assailed and condemned by the episcopal and clerical hierarchy, the monastic orders, especially the Dominicans, and the universities, in fact, by all the champions of scholastic theology and traditional orthodoxy. Luther himself, then a poor, emaciated monk, was at first frightened by the unexpected effect, and many of his friends trembled. One of them told him, "You tell the truth, good brother, but you will accomplish nothing; go to your cell, and say, God have mercy upon me."197 The chief writers against Luther were Tetzel of Leipzig, Conrad Wimpina of Frankfurt-on-the-Oder, and the more learned and formidable John Eck of Ingolstadt, who was at first a friend of Luther, but now became his irreconcilable enemy. These opponents represented three universities and the ruling scholastic theology of the Angelic Doctor St. Thomas Aquinas. But they injured their cause in public estimation by the weakness of their defence. They could produce no arguments for the doctrine and practice of indulgences from the Word of God, or even from the Greek and Latin fathers, and had to resort to extravagant views on the authority of the Pope. They even advocated papal infallibility, although this was as yet an open question in the Roman Church, and remained so till the Vatican decree of 1870. Luther mustered courage. In all his weakness he was strong. He felt that he had begun this business in the name and for the glory of God, and was ready to sacrifice life itself for his honest conviction. He took comfort from the counsel of Gamaliel. In several letters of this period he subscribed himself Martinus Eleutherios (Freeman), but added, vielmehr Knecht (rather, Servant): he felt free of men, but bound in Christ. When his friend Schurf told him, "They will not bear it;" he replied, "But what, if they have to bear it?" He answered all his opponents, directly and indirectly, in Latin and German, from the pulpit and the chair, and through the press. He began now to develop his formidable polemical power, especially in his German writings. He had full command over the vocabulary of common sense, wit, irony, vituperation, and abuse. Unfortunately, he often resorted to coarse and vulgar expressions which, even in that semi-barbarous age, offended men of culture and taste, and which set a bad example for his admirers in the fierce theological wars within the Lutheran Church.198

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  The first cause of the low condition, for low it continued to be, was the impossible requirement of celibacy. The infraction of this rule weakened the whole moral fibre of the clerical order. A second cause is to be looked for in the seizure of the rich ecclesiastical endowments by the aristocracy as its peculiar prize and securing them for the sons of noble parentage without regard to their moral and intellectual fitness. To the evils arising from these two causes must be added the evils arising from the unblushing practice of pluralism. No help came from Rome. The episcopal residences of Toledo, Constance, Paris, Mainz, Cologne and Canterbury could not be expected to be models of domestic and religious order when the tales of Boccaccio were being paralleled in the lives of the supreme functionaries of Christendom at its centre. The grave discussions of clerical manners, carried on at the Councils of Constance and Basel, revealed the disease without providing a cure. The proposition was even made by Cardinal Zabarella and Gerson, in case further attempts to check priestly concubinage failed, to concede to the clergy the privilege of marriage.1129 In the programme for a reformation of the Church, offered by Sigismund at Basel, the concession was included and Pius II., one of the attendants on that synod, declared the reasons for restoring the right of matrimony to priests to be stronger in that day than were the reasons in a former age for forbidding it. The need of a relaxation of the rigid rule found recognition in the decrees of Eugenius IV., 1441, and Alexander VI., 1496, releasing some of the military orders from the vow of chastity. Here and there, priests like Lallier of Paris at the close of the 15th century, dared to propose openly, as Wyclif had done a century before, its full abolition. But, for making the proposal, the Sorbonne denied to Lallier the doctorate.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  But on one of these occasions when Federigo was due to come and take supper with Monna Tessa, and she had roasted a pair of fat capons in his honour, it so happened that, much to the lady’s annoyance, Gianni turned up unexpectedly, very late in the evening. She and her husband supped on a small quantity of salted meat which she had cooked separately; and meanwhile she got her maid to wrap the two roast capons in a white tablecloth together with a quantity of new-laid eggs and a flask of choice wine, and carry them into her garden, which it was possible to reach without going through the house, and where every so often she and Federigo used to sup. And she told the maid to leave all these things at the foot of a peach-tree that stood at the edge of a neat little lawn. But she was so enraged by what had happened that she forgot to tell the maid to wait until Federigo arrived, so as to inform him that Gianni was at home and that he was to take away the things from the garden. And so not long after she and Gianni had gone to bed, and the maid had also retired for the night, Federigo came and tapped gently at the door, which was so near to the bedroom that Gianni heard it immediately, and so did the lady. But so that Gianni could have no possible reason to suspect her, she pretended to be asleep. Federigo waited a little, then knocked a second time, whereupon Gianni began to wonder what it was all about and gave his wife a little poke, saying: ‘Tessa, do you hear what I hear? It sounds like someone tapping at our door.’ His wife, who had heard it much more clearly than he had, made a show of waking up, and murmured: ‘Mm? What’s that you say?’ ‘I said,’ Gianni replied, ‘that it sounds like someone tapping at our door.’ ‘Tapping?’ she said. ‘Oh, heavens, Gianni dear, d’you know what it’ll be? It’ll be the werewolf that’s been frightening me out of my senses for these past few nights. I was so terrified that every time I heard it I stuck my head under the bedclothes and kept it there until it was broad daylight.’ ‘Come now, don’t be afraid, my dear,’ said Gianni. ‘If that’s all it is, there’s no need to worry, because before we got into bed I recited the Te lucis9 and the Intemerata10 and various other excellent prayers, and I also made the sign of the cross from corner to corner of the bed in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, so no matter how powerful this werewolf may be, it can’t do us any harm.’

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Near the tower there was a clump of willows and other trees from which the scholar, having concealed himself there with his manservant shortly after dark, had viewed the whole of these proceedings. When the lady, in all her naked beauty, was passing within an arm’s length of where he lay hidden, he could see her white form piercing the shades of the night, and as he gazed upon her bosom and the other parts of her body, perceiving how lovely they were and thinking to himself what was shortly to happen to them, he could not help feeling sorry for her. Moreover, being suddenly assailed by the desires of the flesh, which caused a recumbent part of his person to stand, he was strongly tempted to sally forth from his hiding-place, seize her in his arms, and take his pleasure of her. So that, what with his pity on the one hand and his lust on the other, he very nearly gave himself away. But when he remembered who he was, the wrong he had suffered, the reason for it, and the person who had inflicted it upon him, his indignation was rekindled, dispelling all his pity and fleshly desires, and, clinging firmly to his resolve, he allowed her to proceed on her way. Having climbed to the top of the tower, the lady turned to face the north and began to recite the words given to her by the scholar, who meanwhile, having followed her into the tower, had silently dismantled piece by piece the ladder leading up to the platform on which she was standing. And he was now waiting to see what she would say and do. The lady repeated the formula seven times and began to await the arrival of the two fair maidens, but she had so long to wait that, apart from feeling far more chilly than she would have wished, she was still there when the dawn began to appear. Feeling somewhat aggrieved that things had not worked out as the scholar had told her, she said to herself: ‘I strongly suspect he was trying to give me a night like the one I provided for him; but if that was his intention, he’s chosen a feeble way of avenging himself, for the night he spent was at least three times as long, and the cold was far more severe.’ But as she had no desire to be found up there in broad daylight, she now prepared to descend, only to discover that the ladder had gone.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Now, the ruling Pope in Rome was Boniface VIII,2 and to his court there came the Abbot of Cluny,3 who was reputed to be one of the richest prelates in the world. In the course of his stay there, however, he ruined his stomach, and was advised by the physicians to go to the baths of Siena,4 where he was certain to recover. And so, having obtained permission from the Pope, he set out for Siena, heedless of the reputation of Ghino, accompanied by a huge and splendid train of goods, baggage, horses and servants. On learning of his approach, Ghino di Tacco spread out his nets, and without allowing so much as a single page-boy to escape, he cut off the Abbot with the whole of his retinue and belongings in a narrow gorge. This done, he dispatched his ablest lieutenant to the Abbot, suitably escorted, who very politely requested the Abbot, on his master’s behalf, to be good enough to make his way to Ghino’s fortress and dismount there. On hearing this, the Abbot flew into a terrible rage and replied that he had no intention of doing any such thing, as he had nothing to discuss with Ghino. In short, he was going to continue his journey, and would like to see anyone try to prevent him. Whereupon Ghino’s emissary, speaking in deferential tones, said to him: ‘My lord, you have come to a place where except for the power of God we fear nothing, and where excommunications and interdicts are entirely ineffectual. Please be good enough, therefore, to comply with Ghino’s wishes in this matter.’ Whilst these words were being exchanged, the whole place had been surrounded by brigands; and so the Abbot, realizing that he and his men were trapped, set off in high dudgeon with Ghino’s emissary along the road leading to the fortress, together with all his goods and retinue. Having dismounted at a large house, he was lodged, on Ghino’s instructions, in an extremely dark and uncomfortable little room, whereas all the others were given very comfortable quarters, each according to his rank, in various parts of the fortress. And as for the horses and all the Abbot’s belongings, these were put in a safe place and left untouched. Once this was done, Ghino went to the Abbot and said to him: ‘My lord, I am sent by Ghino, of whom you are a guest, in order to ask whether you will be so good as to inform him where you were going, and for what reason.’

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  “Let me remind you, Anaïs. The contract states that I have final cut.” “But I have creative control,” she objected. “That’s not in the contract.” She stepped back, fuming. “You tricked me. I said I wanted creative control.” “You signed the contract.” She calmed herself, lowering her head like a sorrowful Madonna. She said sweetly, sadly, “I’m sorry, Bob, I know you are the director and that you tricked me into giving you final cut, but we have to do this my way or there can be no film.” “Are you threatening me?” he snarled, but sounded scared. “Not at all. You have the contract on your side. Unfortunately, you will not have a film to cut.” “What do you mean? I already have film in the can.” “You mean the scene we just shot with the students? Let’s see what kind of film you can make out of that. I will no longer appear in the film.” She began walking away from Snyder, toward me. He yelled after her, “I’m calling Henry Miller!” Anaïs turned back. “Why would you call Henry?” “He got me into this. He told me plenty about you!” Henry knew about Hugo and Rupert; what if he’d told Snyder? What if it had been Snyder’s conniving plan all along to get Anaïs’s double life on film? She remained composed, however. “Henry lies,” she said. “You had better tell me what he said so that I can correct it.” “When we’re alone.” Snyder flung an arm toward me, now in his line of sight. “There’s nothing you could possibly say to me that Tristine cannot hear.” She acknowledged my presence with a nod. “Unless, of course, you are worried about being sued for slander.” “Never mind.” “Perhaps I should call Henry. We are very close. Perhaps he will have second thoughts about letting you finish your film on him.” “He wouldn’t do that. We’re friends.” Anaïs said, “I assure you my friendship with Henry is longer and more intimate.” Snyder looked like a confused bull in the ring, his neck weakened after the banderillos have planted their barbed sticks. He steamed in place, not daring to say another word. She turned her back on him and joined me. He pivoted the opposite direction and stormed into the house. He tugged on Rupert’s arm until Rupert rose from the chair and, looking confused, disappeared again into Anaïs’s study. “Clear the set!” Snyder snapped, and his assistant started to shoo out my friends, who told me later they’d felt rudely dismissed. I put my hands on Anaïs’s shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks. I hadn’t grown any taller since the first time we’d embraced, but she felt smaller and frailer. “Don’t let Snyder bully you,” I said. She smiled. “Don’t worry, I know how to handle Bob Snyder.”

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Popular tradition has it that Saint Lawrence was martyred by being roasted on a gridiron, which is the saint’s emblem, but it is more likely that he was beheaded. 23. they will never be touched by fire without getting burnt Cipolla’s concluding master stroke is to make his hearers believe the opposite of what he actually says. (Conclusion) 1. a guilty conscience Dioneo’s suggestion of the possible reason for the ladies’ reluctance to discuss the topic he has prescribed, anticipating Freud, reflects B.’s intuitive understanding of the human psyche. 2. the Valley of the Ladies The third, and most elaborate, locus amœnus in the Decameron is a refined and more detailed version of similar locations described in two of B.’s earlier works, the Caccia di Diana and Ninfale fiesolano. It will become the setting for the tales of adulterous wives recounted on the Seventh Day, where the contrast between the mythical, pre-lapsarian world of the storytellers and the everyday world of the narratives is more than usually pronounced. 3. carole A medieval dance in a ring or chain, performed to the singing of the dancers. 4. flowers of red and white Perhaps the flowers associated with wedding rites: roses and lilies. 5. cornemuse A kind of bagpipe. SEVENTH DAY (Introduction) 1. Lucifer The morning star, or the planet Venus as it appears in the sky before sunrise. The oblique reference to Venus may be a signifier of the venereal doings of the chief characters of the day’s stories. First Story 1. werewolves The Italian term is fantasima, described by B.’s contemporary, Jacopo Passavanti, as ‘an animal resembling a satyr, or cat monkey, which goes around at night causing distress to people’. 2. San Pancrazio A district named after the Franciscan convent on what is now the Via della Spada. Friar Puccio, the pious and simple-minded husband of III, 4, lived in the same quarter of the city. 3. the song of Saint Alexis Possibly the Ritmo di Sant’Alessio, one of the earliest specimens of Italian verse, written in the early thirteenth century. 4. the lament of Saint Bernard Perhaps a rhyming version of the so-called Sayings of St Bernard. 5. the laud of Lady Matilda Matilde of Magdeburg, a mystic whose visions were given currency in Italy by the Dominicans, the monastic order that controlled the church of Santa Maria Novella. 6. Mannuccio dalla Cuculia The Mannucci were a prominent Florentine family, who lived in the San Frediano quarter, one of whose districts was called Cuculia (‘cuckoo’) after a chapel containing a painting of the Madonna that included a cuckoo. But the name given by B. to Monna Tessa’s father comically prefigures the gulling of her pious husband. 7. Camerata A village on the slopes leading up to Fiesole, a few miles north of Florence. 8. the skull of an ass The placing of an ass’s skull on a stake to protect one’s crops was a propitiatory rite going back to the times of the ancient Etruscans. B.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Nor would I advise you ever to make so bold as to lay your hands on me, for, by the cross of God, I would deform your face for life. What’s more, you never cut off my hair either, unless you did it without my noticing: let’s just see now whether my hair has been cut off or not.’ And removing her veils, she displayed a fine head of hair, which showed no signs of having been trimmed. When her brothers and her mother saw and heard all this, they rounded on Arriguccio, saying: ‘What sort of a joke is this, Arriguccio? This doesn’t correspond in the least to what you came and told us, and you’re going to have a job to prove the rest of your story.’ Arriguccio stood transfixed, as if he were in a trance. Although he was bursting to speak, on seeing there was no truth in the very thing he thought he could prove, he made no attempt to say anything. So the lady turned back to her brothers, and said: ‘I see now, brothers, what his intentions were: he wanted me to tell you about the wicked and scoundrelly way he behaves, which is a subject I have never had any desire to discuss, but now I shall do so. I firmly believe that his story is true, that he did all the things he was telling you about, and that what happened was this: ‘The worthy gentleman, to whom I had the misfortune to be given by you in marriage, who calls himself a merchant and wants people to think that he is more temperate than a monk and more chaste than a virgin (as indeed he should be) goes carousing nearly every night in the taverns, and consorting with one harlot after another; and meanwhile I have to sit here, as you found me when you arrived, and wait up half the night for him, and sometimes he never comes home at all until morning. It’s my belief that he got himself blind drunk and bedded down with some strumpet or other, then woke up to find the string attached to her foot, after which he performed all those brave exploits he’s been telling you about, and finally returned to his doxy, beat her up, and cut off her hair. Since he was still in his cups, he believed (as I’m sure he still does) that he’d done all this to me; and if you take a good look at his face, you’ll see that he is still half drunk even now. But all the same, whatever he may have said about me, I would not want you to take it as anything other than the lunatic ravings of someone who is full of Dutch courage.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Bearing in mind, then, that we have a natural propensity to fly into a temper, that our cheerfulness and mildness of manner have a pleasing and very soothing effect upon our menfolk, and that anger and fury can bring about so much peril and anguish, I intend to strengthen our will to resist this vice by telling this story of mine, which, as I have already said, concerns the love of three young men and three young women, and which shows how, through the anger of one of these latter, their happiness was transformed into complete and utter misery. Marseilles, as you know, is an ancient and illustrious city on the coast of Provence, and it used to boast a larger number of wealthy citizens and great merchants than appears to be the case nowadays. One of these was a certain N’Arnald Civada, who, despite his exceedingly humble origins, had built himself a firm reputation as an honest merchant and amassed a huge fortune, both in money and capital goods. His wife presented him with a number of children, of whom the eldest three were girls, whilst all the rest were boys. Two of the girls were fifteen-year-old twins, the third was fourteen, and marriages had been arranged for all three by their kinsfolk, who were simply waiting for the return of N’Arnald from Spain, whither he had gone with a consignment of merchandise. The names of the first two girls were Ninetta and Maddalena; the third was called Bertella. Ninetta was loved, with the devotion of his entire being, by a young man called Restagnone, who was poor but of noble birth. The girl reciprocated his love, and they had managed to devise a way of consummating it without revealing the fact to a living soul. They had already been enjoying the fruits of their love for quite some time when two young men called Folco and Ughetto, who were mutual friends and whose fathers had died, leaving them very wealthy, happened to fall in love with Maddalena and Bertella respectively. It was Ninetta who first drew Restagnone’s attention to this, and having confirmed that it was so, he cudgelled his brains for a way of using the young men’s loves to repair his own fortunes. Having struck up an acquaintance with them, he made a practice of taking them, sometimes individually and sometimes together, to visit the three young ladies. And one day, when he felt that he was on sufficiently friendly and familiar terms with the two young men, he invited them round to his house, and said to them: ‘My dear young friends, we have now become well enough acquainted for you to perceive the strength of my affection towards you, and to realize that I would work no less zealously in the pursuit of your interests than I would in pursuing my own.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  And since I am prepared to forgive him, you must do the same.’ Having heard what her daughter had said, the mother now began to raise a clamour, saying: ‘By the cross of God, daughter, we ought to do no such thing; on the contrary, this loathsome, ungrateful cur ought to be put to death. You were far too good for him in the first place. God in Heaven, you’d think he had picked you up out of the gutter! To hell with this small-time trader in horse manure, let him take his foul slander elsewhere! These country yokels, they move into town after serving as cut-throat to some petty rustic tyrant, and wander about the streets in rags and tatters, their trousers all askew, with a quill sticking out 2 from their backsides, and no sooner do they get a few pence in their pockets than they want the daughters of noble gentlemen and fine ladies for their wives. And they devise a coat of arms for themselves, and go about saying: “I belong to such-and-such a family” and “My people did so-and-so”. If only my sons had followed my advice! They could easily have married you into the finest family in Florence, with no more than a hunk of bread for a dowry, instead of which they had to give you to this perfect jewel of a man, who has the impudence, when he’s married to the most chaste and respectable girl in the city, to wake us up in the middle of the night and call you a strumpet, as if we didn’t know you. God’s faith! if I had anything to do with it, he’d be given such a thrashing that he’d smart for the rest of his days.’ Then, turning to her sons, she said: ‘Didn’t I tell you all along that it couldn’t be true? Have you heard how your poor sister is treated by this precious brother-in-law of yours? He’s a tuppenny-ha’penny pedlar, that’s what he is! If I were in your place, after hearing what he’s said about her and what he’s done to her, I’d never rest content till I’d scourged him from the face of the earth. And if I were a man, and not a woman, I wouldn’t allow anyone to stop me. God punish the drunken villain! He ought to be ashamed of himself!’ Angered by what they had seen and heard, the young men turned on Arriguccio and called him all the names under the sun; and by way of conclusion, they said: ‘We’ll let you off lightly this time, seeing that you’ve had too much to drink. But as you value your life, take care never to disturb us again with your nonsensical stories, because if we hear any more from you, you can rest assured we shall pay you out twice over.’ And with this dire warning they departed.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  And so, having built a palace similar to Nathan’s, he began to entertain all those who came and went on a more lavish scale than any ever previously known, and there is no doubt that within a short time he became very famous. Now one day, whilst the young man was sitting all alone in the main courtyard, a woman happened to enter the palace by one of the gates, ask him for alms, and be given them. She then returned by way of a second gate, approached him again, and was given a further sum of money. This happened twelve times in succession, and when she returned for the thirteenth time, Mithridanes said to her: ‘My good woman, you are very persistent with this begging of yours.’ But he gave her the alms just the same. On hearing what he had said, the old woman exclaimed: ‘Ah, how wonderful is the generosity of Nathan! For his palace has thirty-two gates, just like this one, and I passed through each of them in turn, asked him for alms, and obtained them every time, without his ever so much as hinting that he knew who I was. Yet here I have only to pass through thirteen before I am recognized and given a scolding.’ And so saying, she went away and never returned. Mithridanes took the old woman’s words about Nathan as a slight on his own reputation, and flying into a violent rage, he exclaimed: ‘Poor fool that I am! How can I ever hope to match Nathan’s generosity in greater things, let alone surpass him as I sought, when even in the most trivial affairs I cannot even approach him? All my efforts will be quite futile until he is removed from the face of the earth. He shows no sign of dying from old age, so I shall have to do the job with my own hands, and the sooner the better.’ He then leapt angrily to his feet, and without revealing his intentions to a living soul, set out on horseback with a there handful of companions; and after the third day he came to the place where Nathan lived. Evening was now approaching, and having bidden his companions to pretend he was a total stranger to them, and find themselves somewhere to stay pending further instructions, he was left to his own devices. Not very far from Nathan’s fair palace he came across its owner, all alone and very plainly attired, taking a pleasant stroll in the cool of the evening; and not realizing who it was, he asked him whether he could direct him to Nathan’s house. ‘My son,’ Nathan gaily replied, ‘nobody in these parts could show you better than I how to get there. So if you have no objection, I’ll take you there myself.’ The young man gladly accepted his offer, but told him that if possible he did not want Nathan to see him or to know that he was there.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Similarly, when women who have been raped begin to come out of shock (frequently, months or even years later), they often have the impulse to kill their assailants. In some instances, they may have the opportunity to carry this action through. Some of these women have been tried and sentenced for “pre-meditated” murder because the time lapse was viewed as premeditation. Some injustices may have occurred due to the misunderstanding of the biological drama that was perhaps being played out. It is possible that a number of these women may have been acting upon the profound (and delayed) self-protective responses of rage and counter-attack that they experienced coming out of agitated immobility. These reprisals may be biologically motivated, and not necessarily by premeditated revenge. Some of these killings could have been prevented by effective treatment of post-traumatic shock. In post-traumatic anxiety, immobility is maintained primarily from within. The impulse towards intense aggression is so frightening that the traumatized person often turns it inward on themselves rather than allow it external expression. This imploded anger takes the form of anxious depression and the varied symptoms of post-traumatic stress. Like the pigeon that tries frantically to escape, but is recaptured and held prisoner once more, trauma victims beginning to exit immobility are often trapped by their own fear of abrupt activation and their potential for violence. They remain in a vicious cycle of terror, rage, and immobility. They are primed for full-out escape or raging counter-attack, but remain inhibited because of fear of violence to themselves and others. Like Death Itself In Chapter Seven, we discussed the biological advantage of the immobility response for prey animals. Deceiving a predator into believing its quarry is already dead often works. However, the predator is not the only actor on the stage who responds to immobility as though its prey were dead. The physiology of the immobilized animal acts as though it were dead. Animals can actually die from “immobility response overdose.” The reptilian brain has ultimate control over life and death. If it receives repeated messages that the animal is dead, it may comply. In most cases, however, the reptilian brain does not constantly register that the animal is dead; therefore, there are no serious consequences. The animal remains in the immobility state for a period of time and then moves out of it through trembling discharge. The incident is completed.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘But even supposing I were a charitable man, you are not the sort of woman who deserves to be treated with charity. For a savage beast of your sort, death is the only fit punishment, the only just revenge, though admittedly, had I been dealing with a human being, I should already have done enough. So whilst I am not an eagle, yet, knowing that you are not a dove, but a poisonous snake, I intend to harry you with all the hatred and all the strength of a man who is fighting his oldest enemy. To call it revenge, however, is a misuse of words, for it is rather a punishment, inasmuch as revenge must exceed the offence and this will fall short of it. For when I consider how nearly you came to causing my death, it would not suffice for me to take your life by way of revenge, nor a hundred others like it, since I should only be killing a foul and wicked strumpet. ‘For how, in the name of Lucifer, do you differ from any other miserable little whore, apart from having a tolerably pretty face, which in any case a few years hence will be covered all over in wrinkles? Yet it was not for lack of trying that you failed to murder a gentleman (as you called me just now), who can bring more benefit to humanity in a single day than a hundred thousand women of your sort can bring to it for as long as the world shall last. By suffering as you do now, then, you will possibly learn what it means to trifle with a man’s affections, and to hold a man of learning up to ridicule; and if you should escape with your life, you will have good cause never to stoop to such folly again. ‘But if you are so anxious to descend, why do you not throw yourself over the parapet? With God’s help, you would break your neck, and so release yourself from the pain you seem to be suffering, at the same time making me the happiest man alive. That is all I have to say to you for the present. Now that I have managed to put you up there, let’s see whether you are as clever at finding your way down as you were at making me look such a fool.’ Whilst the scholar was speaking, the hapless woman wept without stopping, time was passing, and the sun was climbing higher in the sky. But now that he was silent, she said:

• From The Decameron (1353)

  It is not my intention to steal the Duke’s mistress, but to remove the injury he does to my sister.’ Since nobody dared offer any reply, Constant embarked with his men, settled himself next to the lady, who was crying, and ordered them to cast off and start rowing. And they plied their oars to such good effect that just before dawn on the following day they arrived at Aegina. 10 Going ashore there in order to rest, Constant amused himself in the company of the lady, who was bitterly bewailing her ill-starred beauty. Then they boarded the ship once again, and a few days later they arrived at Chios, 11 where Constant decided to remain, for he thought he would be safe there from his father’s strictures and from the possibility of having to surrender the stolen woman. For several days, the fair lady bemoaned her misfortune. Eventually, however, she responded to Constant’s efforts at consoling her, and began, as on previous occasions, to derive pleasure from the fate to which Fortune had consigned her. And this was how matters stood when Uzbek, 12 who was at that time the King of the Turks and who was constantly at war with the Emperor, happened to pass through Smyrna, where he learned that Constant was leading a dissolute life on Chios with some stolen mistress of his, leaving himself wide open to attack. Arriving by night with a squadron of light warships, Uzbek quietly entered the town with his men, took numerous people captive from their beds before they were aware of their enemies’ arrival, and slaughtered those who had woken up in time to seize their arms. The invaders then set the whole town on fire, and having loaded their booty and prisoners on to the ships, they returned to Smyrna. On reviewing the spoils of the expedition immediately after their return, Uzbek, who was a young man, was delighted to discover the fair lady, whom he recognized as the one who had been taken, along with Constant, as she was lying asleep in her bed. So he promptly married her, and after celebrating the nuptials he happily devoted himself, for the next few months, to the pleasures of the marriage-bed. Now, during the period immediately preceding these happenings, the Emperor had been negotiating a pact with the King of Cappadocia, Basano, 13 whereby the latter was to descend with his forces on Uzbek from one direction whilst the Emperor attacked him with his own troops from the other. He had not yet been able to bring the negotiations to a successful conclusion, however, because of his unwillingness to concede some of the more outrageous of Basano’s demands. But on hearing what had happened to his son, he was so incensed that he immediately agreed to the King of Cappadocia’s terms, and urged him to attack Uzbek as soon as he possibly could, meanwhile making his own preparations for marching against him from the opposite direction.

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  Despite my misgivings, I delivered the recorded tapes with the reminder that in two weeks I had to pick them up and destroy them. I didn’t hear from Anaïs for several weeks, and then she phoned me. “Tristine! I need your help.” “Is it about the tapes?” “No, they’re wonderful. It’s that Henry Miller sent over this filmmaker Bob Snyder who did a documentary on Henry and wants to make one on me.” She explained that Snyder wanted to start with a scene of her teaching, and she needed some extras. “Could you get some of your students to be extras?” “I’m not teaching this semester.” “Well, just bring some friends. No one will know.” Since we were having the last meeting in the women’s tent that night, I asked the group if they wanted to go to Anaïs’s house to be her pretend students for the shoot. With the exception of Clara, they all wanted to. Clara demanded to know if I’d destroyed the tapes yet, and when I said they were still in Anaïs’s possession, she warned, “She’s going to figure out from the voices who’s who. So much for confidentiality.” None of us had thought about that. We all decided not to tape our last session for Anaïs. Everyone demanded that before the film shoot, I get back the tapes I’d given her. I made arrangements with Anaïs to pick up the tapes from her house twice, and twice she cancelled on me but promised she would have them ready the day of the film shoot. However, when I arrived at the Silver Lake house with my friends and asked Anaïs for the tapes, she pleaded, “Can’t it please wait until next week?” Then there was so much hustle and confusion with camera set-ups and lighting that everyone forgot about them. Bob Snyder instructed the extras, including me, to sit at Anaïs’s feet so that she could be filmed dropping pearls of wisdom to us. Ordinarily I would have been excited to see a movie being made, even this little documentary with its fake scene of Anaïs teaching, but I felt disconnected. I couldn’t take my mind off the phone conversation I’d had that morning with the chair of the English department at Indiana University. He’d called to find out if I’d decided to accept his offer of a tenure-track position.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  But since, at the same time, you belonged to him, it was quite improper of you, indeed it was robbery on your part, to remove yourself from him against his will. ‘Now, I would have you know that I myself am a friar. I am therefore familiar with all their ways, and it is not unfitting for me, as it would be for a layman, to express myself somewhat freely about them for your benefit. I do this, and I do it willingly, so that you will know them better in the future than you appear to have done in the past. ‘There was once a time 3 when friars were very saintly and worthy men, but those who lay claim nowadays to the title and reputation of friar have nothing of the friar about them except the habits they wear. Even these are not genuine friars’ habits, because whereas the people who invented friars decreed that the habit should be close-fitting, coarse, and shabby, and that, by clothing the body in humble apparel, it should symbolize the mind’s disdain for all the things of this world, your present-day friars prefer ample habits, generously cut and smooth of texture, and made from the finest of fabrics. Indeed, they now have elegant and pontifical habits, in which they strut like peacocks through the churches and the city squares without compunction, just as though they were members of the laity showing off their robes. And like the fisherman who tries to take a number of fish from the river with a single throw of his casting-net, so these fellows, as they wrap themselves in the capacious folds of their habits, endeavour to take in many an over-pious lady, many a widow, and many another simpleton of either sex, this being their one overriding concern. It would therefore be more exact for me to say that these fellows do not wear friars’ habits, but merely the colours of their habits. ‘Moreover, whereas their predecessors desired the salvation of men, the friars of today desire riches and women. They have taken great pains, and still do, to strike terror into simple people’s hearts with their loud harangues and specious parables, and to show that sins may be purged through almsgiving and mass-offerings. In this way, having taken refuge in the priesthood more out of cowardice than piety and in order to escape hard work, they are supplied with bread by one man and wine by another, whilst a third is persuaded to part with donations for the souls of his departed ones. ‘It is of course true that prayers and almsgiving purge sins. But if only the donors were familiar with the sort of people to whom they were handing over their money, they would either keep it for themselves or cast it before a herd of swine.

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  In these days, prelates and preachers are chained to the earth by the love of earthly things. The care of souls is no longer their concern. They are content with the receipt of revenue. The preachers preach to please princes and to be praised by them. They have done worse. They have not only destroyed the Church of God. They have built up a new Church after their own pattern. Go to Rome and see! In the mansions of the great prelates there is no concern save for poetry and the oratorical art. Go thither and see! Thou shalt find them all with the books of the humanities in their hands and telling one another that they can guide mens’ souls by means of Virgil, Horace and Cicero ... The prelates of former days had fewer gold mitres and chalices and what few they possessed were broken up and given to relieve the needs of the poor. But our prelates, for the sake of obtaining chalices, will rob the poor of their sole means of support. Dost thou not know what I would tell thee! What doest thou, O Lord! Arise, and come to deliver thy Church from the hands of devils, from the hands of tyrants, from the hands of iniquitous prelates.1177 Dizzy flights of fancy abounded in Savonarola’s discourses and took the place of calm and logical exposition. On the evening before he preached his last sermon in Advent, 1492, Savonarola beheld in the middle of the sky a hand holding a sword with the inscription, Behold the sword of the Lord will descend suddenly and quickly upon the earth—Ecce gladius Domini super terram cito et velociter. Suddenly the sword was turned toward the earth, the sky was darkened, swords, arrows and flames rained down. The heavens quaked with thunder and the world became a prey to famine and death. The vision was ended by a command to the preacher to make these things known. Again and again, in after years did he refer to this prophetic vision.1178 Its memory was also preserved by a medal, representing on one side Savonarola and on the other a sword in the heavens held by a hand and pointing to a city beneath.