Desire
Desire is not a synonym for sex and it is not a synonym for wanting. It is the body's motivated lean toward intimacy, beauty, or more contact — the architecture of being-pulled. Vela holds the erotic register at the center but does not collapse the social, the cognitive, and the devotional registers into it: the corpus reads desire across all four, and the texture is in the difference.
Working definition · Motivated pull toward intimacy, beauty, or more contact—not mere preference.
6874 passages · 2 Vela essays
Vela’s read on this emotion
Desire is one of the emotions Vela reads most carefully, because the English word covers too much ground to leave undifferentiated. Four registers run inside it.
The erotic register is the most familiar. Vela reads it through Carmen Maria Machado, Garth Greenwell, Sappho's surviving fragments, and Audre Lorde's essay *Uses of the Erotic* — writers who treat erotic desire as serious subject matter rather than ornament. The social register — the desire to belong, to be seen correctly, to matter to a community — runs through memoir and through the literature of exile. The cognitive register — desire for the right word, for understanding, for mastery — surfaces in Plato's *Symposium* and in Augustine of Hippo's *Confessions*, where desire is examined as a form of motion of the soul. The devotional register — desire for God, or for the absolute — runs through the *Song of Songs*, Teresa of Ávila, John of the Cross, and the broader mystical tradition.
Desire is not the same as yearning, longing, or love. Yearning is desire facing what it may not reach. Longing is yearning settled into chronicity. Love is the sustained orientation that survives desire's exhaustion. The four words are kin; Vela reads them separately because the writers who have been most honest about each have kept them separate.
*On Desire* — the slower companion essay in the magazine — walks the four registers and makes the case for not collapsing them.
Study and magazine
Long-form guide in the magazine
*On Desire* — the four-register reading. Desire as architecture, not virtue: how the word holds erotic, social, cognitive, and devotional registers at once, and what the writers keep saying when the four are not collapsed.
Read the guidePassages
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.
Page 83 of 344 · 20 per page
6874 tagged passages
From The Decameron (1353)
Moreover she was determined to seek her pleasure elsewhere, in the company of one who seemed more worthy of her affection, and so it was that she fell deeply in love with an extremely eligible man in his middle thirties. And whenever a day passed without her having set eyes upon him, she was restless for the whole of the following night. However, the gentleman suspected nothing of all this, and took no notice of her; and for her part, being very cautious, she would not venture to declare her love by dispatching a maidservant or writing him a letter, for fear of the dangers that this might entail. But having perceived that he was on very friendly terms with a certain priest, a rotund, uncouth individual who was nevertheless regarded as an outstandingly able friar on account of his very saintly way of life, she calculated that this fellow would serve as an ideal go-between for her and the man she loved. And so, after reflecting on the strategy she would adopt, she paid a visit, at an appropriate hour of the day, to the church where he was to be found, and having sought him out, she asked him whether he would agree to confess her. Since he could tell at a glance that she was a lady of quality, the friar gladly heard her confession, and when she had got to the end of it, she continued as follows: ‘Father, as I shall explain to you presently, there is a certain matter about which I am compelled to seek your advice and assistance. Having already told you my name, I feel sure you will know my family and my husband. He loves me more dearly than life itself, and since he is enormously rich, he never has the slightest difficulty or hesitation in supplying me with every single object for which I display a yearning. Consequently, my love for him is quite unbounded, and if my mere thoughts, to say nothing of my actual behaviour, were to run contrary to his wishes and his honour, I would be more deserving of hellfire than the wickedest woman who ever lived. ‘Now, there is a certain person, of respectable outward appearance, who unless I am mistaken is a close acquaintance of yours. I really couldn’t say what his name is, but he is tall and handsome, his clothes are brown and elegantly cut, and, possibly because he is unaware of my resolute nature, he appears to have laid siege to me. He turns up infallibly whenever I either look out of a window or stand at the front door or leave the house, and I am surprised, in fact, that he is not here now. Needless to say, I am very upset about all this, because his sort of conduct frequently gives an honest woman a bad name, even though she is quite innocent. ‘I have made up my mind on several occasions to inform my brothers about him.
From The Decameron (1353)
Their sole aim in life consists, not so much in fleecing men, as in skinning them wholesale, and whenever they catch sight of a merchant from foreign parts, they find out from the dogana register what goods he has deposited there and how much he is worth; after which, using all their charms and amorous wiles, and whispering honeyed words into the ears of their unsuspecting victim, they attempt to ensnare him into falling in love with them. In this way they have enticed a large number of merchants to part with a substantial proportion of their goods, and a great many others to hand over the entire lot, whilst some of them have been known to forfeit not only their merchandise, but their ships as well, and even their flesh and their bones, so daintily has the lady-barber known how to wield her razor. To Palermo, then, not so very long ago, there came one of our young Florentines, Niccolò da Cignano 2 by name, though he was generally known as Salabaetto, who had been sent there by his principals with a consignment of woollens, worth about five hundred gold florins, which were left over from the fair at Salerno. Having handed the invoice for these goods to the officers of the dogana, he put them into store, and without showing any great eagerness to dispose of them, he began to see what the city could offer him in the way of amusement. Since he was a very handsome youth, of fair complexion, with blond hair and a most shapely figure, it was not long before one of these lady-barbers, who styled herself Madonna Jancofiore, 3 having gleaned some knowledge of his affairs, began to cast glances in his direction. The young man, perceiving this, and assuming her to be some fine lady who had fallen for his handsome looks, decided that he would have to be very careful in conducting this little amour, and without breathing a word about it to anyone, he took to walking past her house at frequent intervals. He was soon observed by the lady, who after kindling the flames of his passion for a few days by flashing her eyes at him and appearing as if she was pining away for his love, secretly sent one of her maidservants to call upon him. This woman, being well versed in the arts of the procuress, spun him a long rigmarole and then, almost bursting into tears, informed him that her mistress was so taken up with his handsome looks and agreeable manners that she was unable to rest by day or night; she therefore hoped that he would agree to meet her in secret at some bagnio, there being nothing she more ardently desired; and finally, taking a ring from her purse, she handed it over to him with the lady’s compliments.
From The Decameron (1353)
Make the most of Fortune’s blessings; don’t spurn the lady, go out and meet her half-way, for you may be sure that if you fail to do so, not only will you bring about the certain death of your mistress, but you will reproach yourself so often for it that you too will want to die.’ Having already reflected at length on Lusca’s original message, Pyrrhus had made up his mind that if she were to approach him again on the subject, his answer would be different, and he would do all in his power to please the lady, provided it could be proved that she was not simply putting his loyalty to the test. And so he replied as follows: ‘Look here, Lusca, I agree with everything you say, but on the other hand I know my master to be very wise and very shrewd, and now that he has entrusted me with the conduct of all his affairs, I strongly suspect that Lydia is doing this with his advice and encouragement, so as to put me to the test. But if she will do three things to reassure me, she can count on me in future to do whatever she asks without a moment’s hesitation. The three things I want her to do are these: first, she must kill Nicostratos’ favourite sparrowhawk before his very eyes; second, she must send me a tuft of Nicostratos’ beard; and lastly, she must send me one of the best teeth he has left in his jaw.’ These terms seemed harsh to Lusca and well nigh impossible to the lady. But Love, that great comforter and excellent teacher of guile, bolstered her resolve, and through her maidservant she sent him word that she would carry out all of his demands to the letter, and without undue delay. Moreover, since Pyrrhus seemed to think Nicostratos so intelligent, she informed him that she would make love to Pyrrhus under the old man’s nose, and then persuade Nicostratos that he was suffering from hallucinations. Pyrrhus therefore waited to see what the lady would do, and a few days later, when Nicostratos was entertaining certain gentlemen to a sumptuous banquet, this being a regular practice of his, the tables had no sooner been cleared away than Lydia issued forth from her chamber, wearing a dress of green velvet and a splendid array of jewels, and strode majestically into the hall where the gentlemen were. In full view of Pyrrhus and all the others, she then went up to the perch where the sparrowhawk, so greatly prized by Nicostratos, was standing, unhooked its chain as though intending to take it on her hand, and having seized it by the jesses, dashed its head against the wall and killed it.
From The Decameron (1353)
When Lauretta was silent, and they had all paid glowing tribute to Monna Nonna, the queen called upon Neifile to tell the next story, whereupon Neifile began: Amorous ladies, whilst a ready wit will often bring a swift phrase, apposite and neatly turned, to the lips of the speaker, it sometimes happens that Fortune herself will come to the aid of people in distress by suddenly putting words into their mouths that they would never have been capable of formulating when their minds were at ease; which is what I propose to show you with this story of mine. As all of you will have heard and seen for yourselves, Currado Gianfigliazzi1 has always played a notable part in the affairs of our city. Generous and hospitable, he lived the life of a true gentleman, and, to say nothing for the moment of his more important activities, he took a constant delight in hunting and hawking. One day, having killed a crane with one of his falcons in the vicinity of Peretola,2 finding that it was young and plump, he sent it to an excellent Venetian cook of his, whose name was Chichibio,3 telling him to roast it for supper and to see that it was well prepared and seasoned. Chichibio, who was no less scatterbrained than he looked, plucked the crane, stuffed it, set it over the fire, and began to cook it with great care. But when it was nearly done, and giving off a most appetizing smell, there came into the kitchen a fair young country wench called Brunetta, who was the apple of Chichibio’s eye. And on sniffing the smell of cooking and seeing the crane roasting on the spit, she coaxed and pleaded with him to give her one of the legs. By way of reply, Chichibio burst into song: ‘I won’t let you have it, Donna Brunetta, I won’t let you have it, so there! ’ This put Donna Brunetta’s back up, and she said: ‘I swear to God that if you don’t let me have it, you’ll never have another thing out of me!’ In short, they had quite a lengthy set-to, and in the end, not wishing to anger his girl, Chichibio cut off one of the crane’s legs and gave it to her. A little later, the crane was set before Currado and his guests, and much to his surprise, Currado found that one of the legs was missing. So he sent for Chichibio and asked him what had happened to it. Being a Venetian, and hence a good liar,4 Chichibio promptly replied: ‘My lord, cranes have only the one leg.’ Whereupon Currado flew into a rage, and said: ‘What the devil do you mean, cranes have only the one leg? Do you think I’ve never seen a crane before?’ ‘What I mean, sir,’ continued Chichibio, ‘is that they have only the one leg. We’ll go and see some live ones, if you like, and I’ll show you.’
From The Decameron (1353)
The lady retorted by calling him an ignoramus, and asserting that he was incapable of distinguishing one woman’s beauty from another’s. And since he did not want to irritate her unduly, Friar Alberto, having heard the rest of her confession, allowed her to proceed on her way with the others. After biding his time for a few days, he went with a trusted companion to call upon Monna Lisetta at her own house, and, having got her to take him into a room where nobody could see what he was doing, he threw himself on his knees before her, saying: ‘Madam, in God’s name I beseech you to forgive me for talking to you as I did on Sunday last, when you were telling me about your beauty. That same night, I was punished so severely for my insolence that I have been laid up in bed ever since, and was only able to rise again today for the first time.’ ‘Who was it who punished you, then?’ asked Lady Numskull. ‘I will tell you about it,’ said Friar Alberto. ‘When I was praying in my cell that night, as I invariably do, I suddenly saw a great pool of radiant light, and before I was able to turn round and discover its source, I caught sight of an incredibly handsome young man, standing over me with a heavy stick in his hand. He grabbed me by the scruff of the neck, dragged me to the floor at his feet, and beat me so severely that my body was an aching mass of weals and bruises. When I asked him why he had done it, he replied: “Because, earlier today, you had the infernal cheek to speak ill of Monna Lisetta’s celestial charms, and apart from God himself there is no one I love so dearly.” I then asked him who he was, and he told me that he was the Angel Gabriel. “Oh, sir,” said I, “I beg you to forgive me.” “Very well,” said he, “I shall forgive you, but on this sole condition, that you pay a personal call on the lady at your earliest opportunity and offer her your apologies. And should she refuse to accept them, I shall come back here again and give you such a hiding that you will never recover from it.” He then went on to tell me something else, but I dare not tell you what it was unless you forgive me first.’ Being somewhat feeble in the upper storey, Lady Bighead believed every word and felt positively giddy with joy. She paused a little, then said:
From The Decameron (1353)
Silver phials, exquisitely wrought, were then produced from the basket, some filled with rose- water, others with the water of orange flowers or jasmine blossom, with which their bodies were liberally sprinkled by the slave-girls, after which they refreshed themselves for a while with precious wines and sweetmeats. Salabaetto thought he was in Paradise, and devoured the lady a thousand times over with his eyes, for she was assuredly a very beautiful woman. Every hour that passed seemed to him a hundred years as he waited for the slave-girls to depart so that he might find himself in her embrace. Eventually, however, at the lady’s command, they withdrew from the room, leaving a lighted torch behind them, whereupon she and Salabaetto fell into one another’s arms. And there they remained together for some little time, to the immense delight of Salabaetto, who imagined her to be wasting away out of her love for him. At length the lady decided it was time for them to rise, so she summoned the slave-girls, who helped them to dress. They then took some further refreshment in the form of wine and sweetmeats, and washed their faces and hands in the flower-scented waters. And as they were on the point of leaving, the lady said to Salabaetto: ‘If it pleases you, I should consider it a very great favour if you were to come to my house for supper this evening, and spend the night with me.’ Being thoroughly taken in by her beauty and her calculated charm, and firmly believing that she loved him to distraction, Salabaetto replied: ‘Whatever pleases you, my lady, is infinitely pleasing to me. Ask of me what you will, therefore, whether this evening or at any other time, and I shall do it gladly.’ And so returning to her house, the lady arranged for an impressive array of her gowns and other paraphernalia to be put on display in her bedroom, and having given instructions for a magnificent supper to be prepared, she waited for Salabaetto to come. As soon as it was reasonably dark, he made his way
From The Decameron (1353)
The object of my love dwells out there upon that ship, which not only holds that which I desire above all else, but is crammed to the gunwales with treasure. If you are brave, and fight manfully, it will not be too difficult for us to take possession of these riches. My only claim upon the spoils of our victory is the lady for whose love I have taken up arms. Everything else I freely concede to you here and now. Let us set forth, then, and assail the ship whilst Fortune smiles upon us. God favours our enterprise, for He has stilled all breezes, and the ship is lying out there at our mercy.’ The dashing youth need not have wasted so many words, for the Messinese who were with him, being avid for plunder, already had visions of themselves performing the deed to which Gerbino was inciting them with his oratory. So that when he reached the end of his speech, they filled the air with a thunderous roar of approval, trumpets were sounded, and they all took up their weapons. Then they steered for the ship, plying their oars with gusto. The ship was totally becalmed, and when the people aboard her saw the galleys approaching in the distance, they prepared to repel all boarders. On reaching the ship, Gerbino called upon her officers to come aboard the galleys, unless they wanted a battle on their hands. Having proclaimed who they were and discovered what it was that their attackers were demanding, the Saracens asserted that what they were doing was in breach of the royal pledge, the granting of which they confirmed by displaying King William’s glove. At the same time, they made it perfectly clear that they would neither surrender nor give anything away without a fight. Gerbino, who had caught sight of the lady as she stood on the ship’s poop, looking infinitely more beautiful than he had pictured her, grew more inflamed with passion than ever before, and when the glove was produced he retorted that since there were no falcons around at that particular moment, the glove was superfluous, adding that if they refused to hand over the lady, they had better look to their weapons. Hostilities commenced without further ado, each side raining arrows and stones upon the other, and in this manner they fought for a long time, doing one another a fair amount of damage. In the end, finding that he was making little headway, Gerbino lowered a small boat that they had
From Adam, Eve, and the Serpent (1988)
Within about a century of Paul’s death, ascetic versions of Jesus’ message were spreading rapidly, especially in the cities of Asia Minor where Paul himself once preached. What prompted this enthusiasm for renunciation is unclear, but it expressed itself in such widely popular narratives as the story of Thecla, the lovely young virgin who renounced a lucrative marriage which her mother had arranged for her, cut off her hair and dressed in men’s clothes, and ran off to join the movement that Jesus and Paul had initiated. According to the Acts of Paul and Thecla, she was determined, in fact, to do what she believed the gospel required of her—to become, like Paul himself, a celibate evangelist, and reject her wealthy fiancé, Thamyris, who would have supported not only Thecla but her aging and impoverished mother. When Paul came to preach “the word of the virgin life”28 in her home city of Iconium, in Asia Minor, Thecla’s mother forbade her to leave the house to hear him. So Thecla sat at the window, straining to hear what Paul was saying to the crowds of young people and women pressing around him: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God [Cf. Matthew 5:8]. Blessed are they who have kept the flesh pure, for they shall become a temple of God [Cf. 2 Corinthians 6:16]. Blessed are the continent, for to them God will speak. Blessed are they who have wives as if they had none, for they shall inherit God [Cf. 1 Corinthians 7:29]. Blessed are the bodies of the virgins, for they shall be well pleasing to God, and shall not lose the reward of their purity [Cf. Matthew 10:42].”29 Her mother, alarmed when for three days Thecla refused to leave her place even to eat or sleep, told her daughter’s fiancé about the “strange man who teaches deceptive and subtle words.… Thamyris, this man is disturbing the city of the Iconians, and your Thecla too; for all the women and young people go in to him. ‘You must,’ he says, ‘fear one single God only, and live in chastity.’ And my daughter, too, like a spider at the window, bound by his words, is dominated by a new desire and a fearful passion; for the girl hangs upon the things he says, and is taken captive. But you go and speak to her, for she is engaged to you.”30 But Thecla vehemently rejected Thamyris’s loving pleas, as she had her mother’s orders; and he, grieving and furious, immediately arranged to have Paul arrested for encouraging people to defy traditional customs and even the laws. Hearing of Paul’s arrest, Thecla stole out of the house secretly at night to go to the prison, bribing the warden with her bracelets and the guard with a silver mirror to let her enter Paul’s cell to talk with him privately.
From The Decameron (1353)
Hell when he reared his head with pride, adding that by the grace of Heaven, they had tamed him so effectively that he was pleading with God to be left in peace. In this way, he managed to keep the girl quiet for a while, but one day, having begun to notice that Rustico was no longer asking for the devil to be put back in Hell, she said: ‘Look here, Rustico. Even though your devil has been punished and pesters you no longer, my Hell simply refuses to leave me alone. Now that I have helped you with my Hell to subdue the pride of your devil, the least you can do is to get your devil to help me tame the fury of my Hell.’ Rustico, who was living on a diet of herb-roots and water, was quite incapable of supplying her requirements, and told her that the taming of her Hell would require an awful lot of devils, but promised to do what he could. Sometimes, therefore, he responded to the call, but this happened so infrequently that it was rather like chucking a bean into the mouth of a lion, with the result that the girl, who felt that she was not serving God as diligently as she would have liked, was found complaining more often than not. But at the height of this dispute between Alibech’s Hell and Rustico’s devil, brought about by a surplus of desire on the one hand and a shortage of power on the other, a fire broke out in Gafsa, and Alibech’s father was burnt to death in his own house along with all his children and every other member of his household, so that Alibech inherited the whole of his property. Because of this a young man called Neerbal who had spent the whole of his substance in sumptuous living, having heard that she was still alive, set out to look for her, and before the authorities were able to appropriate her late father’s fortune on the grounds that there was no heir, he succeeded in tracing her whereabouts. To the great relief of Rustico, but against her own wishes, he took her back to Gafsa and married her, thus inheriting a half-share in her father’s enormous fortune. Before Neerbal had actually slept with her, she was questioned by the women of Gafsa about how she had served God in the desert, and she replied that she had served Him by putting the devil back in Hell, and that Neerbal had committed a terrible sin by stopping her from performing so worthy a service. ‘How do you put the devil back in Hell?’ asked the women. Partly in words and partly through gestures, the girl showed them how it was done, whereupon the women laughed so much that they are laughing yet; and they said: ‘Don’t let it worry you, my dear.
From The Decameron (1353)
But you alone can devise the means of saving us both.’ Whereupon the girl said: ‘Ricciardo, as you see, I am watched very closely, and for this reason I cannot think how you are to come to me. But if you are able to suggest anything I might do without bringing shame upon myself, tell me what it is, and I shall do it.’ Ricciardo turned over various schemes in his mind, then suddenly he said: ‘My sweet Caterina, the only way I can suggest is for you to come to the balcony overlooking your father’s garden, or better still, to sleep there. Although it is very high, if I knew that you were spending the night on the balcony, I would try without fail to climb up and reach you.’ ‘If you are daring enough to climb to the balcony,’ Caterina replied, ‘I am quite sure that I can arrange to sleep there.’ Ricciardo assured her that he was, whereupon they snatched a single kiss and went their separate ways. It was already near the end of May, and on the morning after her conversation with Ricciardo, the girl began complaining to her mother that she had been unable to sleep on the previous night because of the heat. ‘What are you talking about, child?’ said her mother. ‘It wasn’t in the least hot.’ To which Caterina said: ‘Mother, if you were to add “in my opinion”, then perhaps you would be right. But you must remember that young girls feel the heat much more than older women.’ ‘That is so, my child,’ said her mother, ‘but what do you expect me to do about it? I can’t make it hot or cold for you, just like that. You have to take the weather as it comes, according to the season. Perhaps tonight it will be cooler, and you will sleep better.’ ‘God grant that you are right,’ said Caterina, ‘but it is not usual for the nights to grow any cooler as the summer approaches.’ ‘Then what do you want us to do about it?’ inquired the lady. ‘If you and father were to consent,’ replied Caterina, ‘I should like to have a little bed made up for me on the balcony outside his room, overlooking the garden. I should have the nightingale to sing me off to sleep, it would be much cooler there, and I should be altogether better off than I am in your room.’ Whereupon her mother said: ‘Cheer up, my child; I shall speak to your father about it, and we shall do whatever he decides.’ The lady reported their conversation to Messer Lizio, who, perhaps because of his age, was inclined to be short-tempered. ‘What’s all this about being lulled to sleep by the nightingale?’ he exclaimed.
From The Decameron (1353)
couple of thousand florins, they hand them over to us right away. And that’s what we mean when we talk about going the course, for just as the corsair takes away other people’s goods, we do the same; but whereas corsairs never restore their plunder, we give ours back as soon as we’ve put it to good use. ‘Now that you’ve discovered what is meant, my precious Master, by going the course, you will see for yourself how important it is that you should keep it a secret; so there’s no need for me to say any more on the subject.’ Master Simone, the extent of whose medical knowledge was sufficient, perhaps, to treat an infant for thrush, took everything Bruno had said as the gospel truth, and was inflamed with an intense longing to become a member of their society, as though this were the highest good to which any mortal being could possibly aspire. He accordingly told Bruno that he was no longer in the least surprised that they were always so cheerfully disposed; and it was with the greatest difficulty that he restrained himself from urging him to enrol him there and then, rather than waiting until he had plied him more generously with his hospitality, after which he could plead his cause with a better chance of success. Having therefore held himself in check, he assiduously began to court Bruno’s friendship, regularly inviting him to breakfast and supper, and displaying boundless affection towards him. And they spent so much time in one another’s company that it began to look as though the physician was unable to exist without him. Bruno counted his blessings, and in order not to appear ungrateful for the physician’s lavish hospitality, he painted a Lenten mural for him on the wall of his dining-room and an Agnus Dei at the entrance to his bedroom and a chamber-pot over his front door, 9 so that those people who needed to consult him could distinguish his house from the rest. Moreover, he decorated the loggia with a painting of the battle between the cats and the mice, which in the eyes of the physician was something of a masterpiece. One morning, after failing to turn up to supper the previous evening, Bruno said to the physician: ‘I was with the company last night, but as I’m tiring a little of the Queen of England, I got them to fetch me the Gumedra of the Great Khan of Altarisi.’ ‘Gumedra?’ said the physician. ‘What does that signify? I don’t understand these titles.’ ‘I’m not a bit surprised, my dear Master,’ said Bruno, ‘for I’ve heard that neither Watercress nor Avadinner say anything on the subject.’ ‘You mean Hippocras and Avicenna,’ 10 said the physician. ‘You may well be right,’ said Bruno, ‘for these names of yours mean about as much to me as mine do to you.
From The Decameron (1353)
FOURTH STORY A monk, having committed a sin deserving of very severe punishment, escapes the consequences by politely reproaching his abbot with the very same fault . No sooner did Filomena stop talking, having reached the end of her tale, than Dioneo, 1 who was sitting next to her and already knew it was his turn to address them because of the order in which they were speaking, began in the following manner without awaiting further instructions from the queen: Sweet ladies, if I have properly understood your unanimous intention, we are here in order to bring pleasure to each other with our storytelling. I therefore contend that each must be allowed (as our queen agreed just now that we might) to tell whatever story we think most likely to amuse. So having heard how Abraham’s soul was saved through the good advice of Jehannot de Chevigny, and how Melchizedek employed his wisdom in defending his riches from the wily manoeuvres of Saladin, I intend, without fear of your disapproval, to give you a brief account of the clever way in which a monk saved his body from very severe punishment. In Lunigiana, 2 which is not all that far from where we are now, there is a monastery that once had a greater supply of monks and of saintliness than it nowadays has, and in it there was a young monk whose freshness and vitality neither fasts nor vigils could impair. One day, about noon, when all the other monks were asleep, he chanced to be taking a solitary stroll round the walls of the monastery, which lay in a very lonely spot, when his eyes came to rest on a strikingly beautiful girl, perhaps some local farmhand’s daughter, who was going about the fields collecting wild herbs. No sooner did he see her, than he was fiercely assailed by carnal desire. He went up to her and engaged her in conversation, passing from subject to subject till he came to an understanding with her and took her back to his cell, making sure that no one was watching. But being carried away by the vigour of his passion, he threw all caution to the winds, and whilst he was cavorting with the girl, the Abbot, who happened to have risen from his siesta and was quietly walking past the monk’s cell, heard the racket that the pair were creating. So that he might recognize the voices, he crept softly up to the door of the cell, stood there listening, and came to the definite conclusion that one of the voices was a woman’s. His first impulse was to order the door to be opened, but he then decided to deal with the matter differently and returned to his room, where he waited for the monk to come out.
From The Decameron (1353)
Giacomino had in his house an elderly maidservant and a serving-man called Crivello, a highly sociable and entertaining sort of fellow, with whom Giannole became very friendly. Choosing the right moment Giannole told Crivello all about his love for the girl, imploring him to assist him in attaining his desire, and promising to reward him handsomely in return. ‘Now look,’ said Crivello, ‘there is only one possible way in which I could be of service to you, and that consists in waiting for Giacomino to dine away from home and then letting you in to the room where she happens to be. If I were to broach the subject to her orally, she would never stop to listen. If this plan appeals to you, I promise to see it through, and I shall be as good as my word, after which it will be up to you to make the most of your opportunities.’ Giannole assured him that this was all he desired, and there, for the time being, the matter rested. For his part, Minghino had made friends with the maidservant, working upon her to such good effect that she had delivered several messages to the girl and almost fired her with Minghino’s love. Moreover she had promised to convey him to her as soon as Giacomino chanced for any reason to be away from the house for the evening. A few days after his conversation with Giannole, Crivello persuaded Giacomino to accept an invitation to supper at the house of one of his friends; and having passed the word to Giannole, he arranged that on receiving a certain signal Giannole was to come to the front door, which he would find unlocked. Meanwhile the maidservant, knowing nothing of all this, sent word to Minghino that Giacomino was going out to supper, and told him to stay near the house so that, when she gave him the signal, he could come and be let in. Neither of the two lovers knew anything of the other’s movements, and soon after dusk, each of them, being suspicious of his rival, set out with a number of armed companions so as to be certain of carrying off the prize. Since they were obliged to wait for the signal, Minghino and his men stationed themselves in a house nearby belonging to one of his friends, whilst Giannole bided his time with his companions some little distance away from the girl’s house. Once Giacomino was out of the way, Crivello and the maidservant made strenuous efforts to send each other packing. ‘Why don’t you go to bed?’ said Crivello. ‘What are you pottering about the house for at this hour?’ ‘What about you?’ said the maidservant. ‘Why not go and wait for your master?
From The Decameron (1353)
Late one afternoon, he and a trusted companion of his called Adriano, who knew of his love for the girl, hired a couple of pack-horses, and having laden them with a pair of saddlebags, filled probably with straw, they set forth from Florence; and after riding round in a wide circle they came to the valley of the Mugnone, some time after nightfall. They then wheeled their horses round to make it look as though they were returning from Romagna, rode up to the cottage of our worthy friend, and knocked at the door. And since the man was well acquainted with both Pinuccio and his companion, he immediately came down to let them in. ‘You’ll have to put us up for the night,’ said Pinuccio. ‘We had intended to reach Florence before dark, but as you can see, we’ve made such slow progress that this is as far as we’ve come, and it’s too late to enter the city at this hour.’ ‘My dear Pinuccio,’ replied the host, ‘as you know, I can’t exactly offer you a princely sort of lodging. But no matter: since night has fallen and you’ve nowhere else to go, I shall be glad to put you up as best I can.’ So the two young men dismounted, and having seen that their nags were comfortably stabled, they went into the house, where, since they had brought plenty to eat with them, they made a hearty supper along with their host. Now, their host had only one bedroom, which was very tiny, and into this he had crammed three small beds, 2 leaving so little space that it was almost impossible to move between them. Two of the beds stood alongside one of the bedroom walls, whilst the third was against the wall on the opposite side of the room; and having seen that the least uncomfortable of the three was made ready for his guests, the host invited them to sleep in that for the night. Shortly afterwards, when they appeared to be asleep, though in reality they were wide awake, he settled his daughter in one of the other two beds, whilst he and his wife got into the third; and beside the bed in which she was sleeping, his wife had placed the cradle containing her infant son. Having made a mental note of all these arrangements, Pinuccio waited until he was sure that everyone was asleep, then quietly left his bed, stole across to the bed in which his lady-love was sleeping, and lay down beside her. Although she was somewhat alarmed, the girl received him joyously in her arms, and they then proceeded to take their fill of that sweet pleasure for which they yearned above all else. Whilst Pinuccio and the girl were thus employed, a cat, somewhere in the house, happened to knock something over, causing the man’s wife to wake up with a start.
From The Decameron (1353)
A few days later, having completed all his business in Rhodes and being desirous of taking ship on a Catalan carrack that was about to sail for Cyprus, the Cypriot merchant inquired of the fair lady what she was proposing to do, telling her that for his part, he was compelled to return to Cyprus. The lady said that if he had no objection, she would gladly accompany him, because she had hoped that out of his affection for Antioco, he would treat and regard her as a sister. The merchant assured her of his willingness to do whatever she asked, and with the object of protecting her from any harm that might befall her before they reached Cyprus, he passed her off as his wife. Having embarked on the ship, therefore, they were assigned to a small cabin on the poop- deck, and in order to maintain appearances, he bedded down with her in the same narrow little bunk. What happened next was something that neither of them had bargained for when leaving Rhodes, because what with the darkness, the enforced idleness, and the warmth of the bed, all of which are powerful stimulants, they were each consumed with an almost equally intense longing, and without sparing a thought for the love and friendship they owed to the dead Antioco, they began to excite each other, with the result that by the time they reached the Cypriot’s home-port of Paphos, they had become husband and wife in good earnest. And for some time after their arrival in Paphos, they lived together in the merchant’s house. Now it so happened that there came to Paphos, on some business or other, a gentleman called Antigono, who was old in years and even older in wisdom. He was not a very rich man, because although he had undertaken numerous commissions in the service of the King of Cyprus, Fortune had never been particularly kind to him. One day, as he was walking past the house where the fair lady was living, at a time when the Cypriot merchant was away on a trading mission in Armenia, this Antigono happened to catch sight of the lady at one of the windows. Since she was very beautiful, he began to stare at her, and it occurred to him that he had seen her on some previous occasion, but try as he would he could not remember where.
From The Decameron (1353)
Master Abbot, having looked her up and down, saw that she was a nice, comely wench, and despite his years he was promptly filled with fleshly cravings, no less intense than those his young monk had experienced. And he began to say to himself: ‘Well, well! Why not enjoy myself a little, when I have the opportunity? After all, I can have my fill of sorrow and afflictions whenever I like. This is a fine-looking wench, and not a living soul knows that she is here. If I can persuade her to play my game, I see no reason why I shouldn’t do it. Who is there to know? No one will ever find out, and a sin that’s hidden is half forgiven. I may never get another chance as good as this. It’s always a good idea, in my opinion, to accept any gift that the Good Lord places in our path.’ Having said all this to himself, and completely reversed his original intention in going there, he went up to the girl and gently began to console her and tell her not to cry. One subject led to another, and eventually he came round to explaining what he had in mind. The girl, who was not exactly made of iron or of flint, fell in very readily with the Abbot’s wishes. He took her in his arms and kissed her a few times, then lowered himself on to the monk’s little bed. But out of regard, perhaps, for the weight of his reverend person and the tender age of the girl, and not wishing to do her any injury, he settled down beneath her instead of lying on top, and in this way he sported with her at considerable length. Meanwhile the monk, who had only pretended to go to the wood, had hidden himself in the corridor, and when he saw the Abbot entering the cell by himself, he felt quite reassured, being convinced that everything was proceeding according to plan. And when he perceived that the Abbot had locked himself in, he was left in no doubt whatsoever. Emerging from his hiding-place, he quietly crept up to a chink in the wall, through which he saw and heard all that the Abbot was doing and saying. The Abbot, deciding he had spent enough time with the girl, locked her in the cell and returned to his room. And after a while, hearing the monk and supposing he had just returned from the wood, he determined to give him a jolly good scolding and have him locked up, so that he alone would possess the prize they had captured. So he sent for the monk, put on a stern face, reprimanded him most severely, and ordered him to be locked in the punishment-cell.
From The Decameron (1353)
‘What the devil’s the matter, comrade Calandrino? You do nothing but sigh the whole time.’ ‘Comrade,’ said Calandrino, ‘if only I had someone to help me, I could be the happiest man alive.’ ‘What do you mean?’ said Bruno. ‘Don’t tell a soul,’ said Calandrino, ‘but there’s a girl down there who’s lovelier than a nymph, and she’s so much in love with me that you’d be astonished. I came across her just now when I went to fetch the water.’ ‘Good heavens!’ said Bruno. ‘You’d better be careful, in case it’s Filippo’s wife.’ ‘That’s exactly who I think she is,’ said Calandrino, ‘for he called to her from the bedroom, and she went in to him. But anyway, what does it matter? For a girl like that, I’d slip one over on Jesus Christ, let alone Filippo. The truth is, comrade, that I’m so wild about her that I can’t begin to tell you how I feel.’ Then Bruno said: ‘I’ll make one or two inquiries for you, comrade, and find out who she is. If she turns out to be Filippo’s wife, I’ll fix things up for you in a trice, because she happens to be a very close friend of mine. But how are we to prevent Buffalmacco from finding out? I never get a chance to speak to her except when he is with me.’ ‘I’m not worried about Buffalmacco,’ said Calandrino, ‘but we must keep it a secret from Nello, because Tessa4 is a kinswoman of his and he would ruin everything.’ ‘That’s true,’ said Bruno. Now, Bruno knew perfectly well who she was, for he had seen her arriving at the house, and Filippo had told him in any case. So as soon as Calandrino downed tools for a moment to go and see whether he could catch a glimpse of the girl, Bruno told Nello and Buffalmacco all about Calandrino’s sudden infatuation, and together they agreed what they should do about it. As soon as Calandrino returned, Bruno whispered in his ear: ‘Did you see her?’ ‘Ah, that I did!’ Calandrino replied. ‘She’s struck me all of a heap.’ ‘I’ll just go and see whether she’s the one I think she is,’ said Bruno, ‘in which case you can safely leave everything to me.’ So Bruno went downstairs, and finding Filippo and the girl together, he carefully explained the sort of man that Calandrino was, and told them what he had said. He then arranged with each of them what they should do and say so that they could all have a merry time at Calandrino’s expense over this little love-affair of his. And returning to Calandrino, he said:
From The Decameron (1353)
Finally, the Abbess, who was still unaware of all this, was taking a stroll one very hot day in the garden, all by herself, when she came across Masetto stretched out fast asleep in the shade of an almond-tree. Too much riding by night had left him with very little strength for the day’s labours, and so there he lay, with his clothes ruffled up in front by the wind, leaving him all exposed. Finding herself alone, the lady stood with her eyes riveted to this spectacle, and she was seized by the same craving to which her young charges had already succumbed. So, having roused Masetto, she led him away to her room, where she kept him for several days, thus provoking bitter complaints from the nuns over the fact that the handyman had suspended work in the garden. Before sending him back to his own quarters, she repeatedly savoured the one pleasure for which she had always reserved her most fierce disapproval, and from then on she demanded regular supplementary allocations, amounting to considerably more than her fair share. Eventually, Masetto, being unable to cope with all their demands, decided that by continuing to be dumb any longer he might do himself some serious injury. And so one night, when he was with the Abbess, he untied his tongue and began to talk. ‘I have always been given to understand, ma’am,’ he said, ‘that whereas a single cock is quite sufficient for ten hens, ten men are hard put to satisfy one woman, and yet here am I with nine of them on my plate. I can’t endure it any longer, not at any price, and as a matter of fact I’ve been on the go so much that I’m no longer capable of delivering the goods. So you’ll either have to bid me farewell or come to some sort of an arrangement.’ When she heard him speak, the lady was utterly amazed, for she had always believed him to be dumb. ‘What is all this?’ she said. ‘I thought you were supposed to be dumb.’ ‘That’s right, ma’am, I was,’ said Masetto, ‘but I wasn’t born dumb. It was owing to an illness that I lost the power of speech, and, praise be to God, I’ve recovered it this very night.’ The lady believed him implicitly, and asked him what he had meant when he had talked about having nine on his plate. Masetto explained how things stood, and when the Abbess heard, she realized that every single one of the nuns possessed sharper wits than her own. Being of a tactful disposition, she decided there and then that rather than allow Masetto to go away and spread tales concerning the convent, she would come to some arrangement with her nuns in regard to the matter. Their old steward had died a few days previously.
From The Decameron (1353)
SECOND STORY Peronella hides her lover in a tub when her husband returns home unexpectedly. Her husband has sold the tub, but she tells him that she herself has already sold it to a man who is inspecting it from the inside to see whether it is sound. Leaping forth from the tub, the man gets the husband to scrape it out and carry it back to his house for him . Emilia’s story was received with gales of laughter, and everyone agreed that the prayer was indeed a fine and godly one. When the tale was finished, the king ordered Filostrato to follow, and so he began: Adorable ladies, so numerous are the tricks that men, and husbands in particular, play upon you, that whenever any woman happens to play one on her husband, you should not only be glad to hear about it but you should also pass it on to as many people as you can, so that men will come to realize that women are just as clever as their husbands. All of which is bound to work out to your own advantage, for when a man knows that he has clever people to deal with, he will think twice before attempting to deceive them. Who can be in any doubt, therefore, that when husbands come to learn of what we shall be saying today on this subject, they will have every reason to refrain from trifling with you, knowing that if you so desired you could do the same to them? And for this reason, it is my intention to tell you about the trick which a young woman, though she was of lowly condition, played on the spur of the moment upon her husband, in order to save her own skin. Not so long ago, in Naples, a poor man took to wife a charming and beautiful girl, whose name was Peronella. 1 He was a bricklayer by trade, and earned a very low wage, but this, together with the modest amount she earned from her spinning, was just about sufficient for them to live on. Now one day, Peronella caught the eye of a sprightly young gallant, who, finding her exceedingly attractive, promptly fell in love with her, and by using all his powers of persuasion, he succeeded in gaining her acquaintance. So that they could be together, they came to this arrangement: that since her husband got up early every morning to go to work or to go and look for a job, the young man should lie in wait until he saw him leaving the house; and as the district where she lived, which was called Avorio, was very out-of-the-way, as soon as the husband had left, he should go in to her. And in this way they met very regularly.
From The Decameron (1353)
‘You can deal with me: I’m her husband.’ So Giannello said: ‘The tub seems to be in pretty good shape, but you appear to have left the lees of the wine in it, for it’s coated all over with some hard substance or other that I can’t even scrape off with my nails. I’m not going to take it unless it’s cleaned out first.’ So Peronella said: ‘We made a bargain, and we’ll stick to it. My husband will clean it out.’ ‘But of course,’ said the husband. And having put down his tools and rolled up his sleeves, he called for a lamp and a scraping tool, lowered himself into the tub, and began to scrape away. Peronella, as though curious to see what he was doing, leaned over the mouth of the tub, which was not very wide, and resting her head on her arm and shoulder, she issued a stream of instructions, such as: ‘Rub it up there, that’s it, and there again!’ and ‘See if you can reach that teeny-weeny bit left at the top.’ While she was busy instructing and directing her husband in this fashion, Giannello, who had not fully gratified his desires that morning before the husband arrived, seeing that he couldn’t do it in the way he wished, contrived to bring it off as best he could. So he went up to Peronella, who was completely blocking up the mouth of the tub, and in the manner of a wild and hot-blooded stallion mounting a Parthian mare 4 in the open fields, he satisfied his young man’s passion, which no sooner reached fulfilment than the scraping of the tub was completed, whereupon he stood back, Peronella withdrew her head from the tub, and the husband clambered out. Then Peronella said to Giannello: ‘Here, take this lamp, my good man, and see whether the job’s been done to your satisfaction.’ Having taken a look inside the tub, Giannello told her everything was fine, and he was satisfied. He then handed seven silver ducats to the husband, and got him to carry it round to his house.