NOVEL V.
Dianora requires Ansaldo to present her with a garden in January as beautiful as in May. He engages a necromancer to do it. Her husband, upon this, gives her leave to keep her word with Ansaldo, who hearing of her husband’s generosity, acquits her of her promise, and the necromancer likewise takes nothing for his trouble.
Signor Gentil having been extolled to the very skies by the whole assembly, the king ordered Emilia to follow; and immediately, as though she were desirous of speaking, she began in this manner: – There is no one but must allow that Signor Gentil did a very noble action, but to say that nothing greater could be done, is saying too much, as I shall show in a very short novel.
In the country of Frioli, which, though very cold, is yet beautified with many pleasant mountains, fine rivers and crystal springs, is a place called Udine, where lived a worthy lady, named Dianora, the wife of a very agreeable man, and one of great wealth, called Gilberto. Now she had taken the fancy of a great and noble lord, called Ansaldo, one of extraordinary generosity and prowess, and known all over the country, who used frequently to solicit her with messages and offers of love, but in vain. At length, being quite wearied with his importunities, and seeing that he still persisted, notwithstanding her repeated denials, she resolved to rid herself of him by a novel, and, as she thought, impossible demand. So she said to his emissary one day, “Good woman, you have often told me that Ansaldo loves me beyond all the world, and have offered me great presents on his part, which he may keep to himself, for I shall never be prevailed upon to a compliance in that manner. Could I be assured, indeed, that his love is really such as you say, then I should certainly be brought to return it: therefore, if he will convince me of that by a proof which I shall require, I will instantly be at his service.” – “What is it, then,” quoth the good woman, “that you desire him to do.” – “It is this,” she replied: “I would have a garden in the month of January, which is now coming on, as full of green herbs, flowers, and trees laden with fruit, as though it were the month of May: unless he does this for me, charge him to trouble me no more, for I will instantly complain to my husband, and all my friends.”
Ansaldo being made acquainted with this demand, which seemed an impossibility, and knowing that it was contrived on purpose to deprive him of all hopes of success, resolved yet to try all possible means in such a case, sending to every part of the world to find out a person able to assist him. At length he met with a magician, who would undertake it for a large sum of money; and having agreed upon a price, he waited impatiently for the time of its being done. On the night of the first of January, therefore, the cold being extreme, and everything covered with snow, this wise man so employed his art in a meadow near to the city, that in the morning there appeared there one of the finest gardens that ever was seen, filled with all kinds of herbs, flowers, trees, and fruits. Ansaldo beheld this marvellous creation with infinite pleasure, and picking some of the fairest fruit and flowers, he sent them privately to the lady, inviting her to come and see the garden which she had required, that she might be convinced of his love and fulfil the promise she had made, as became a woman of her word. The lady, seeing the flowers and fruits present, and having already heard from many people of this wonderful garden, began to repent of what she had done. But with all this repentance, being still desirous of seeing strange sights, she went thither with many more ladies, and having highly commended it, returned home very sorrowful, thinking of her engagement. Her trouble was too great to be concealed or dissembled, so that her husband at last perceived it, and demanded the reason. For some time she was ashamed to speak, but being constrained at last, she related the whole thing. Gilberto was greatly incensed about it, till, considering the upright intention of his lady in the affair, he began to be somewhat pacified, and said, “Dianora, it is not the act of a wise and virtuous lady to receive any messages, or make any conditions in regard to her chastity. Words have a more ready admittance to the heart than many people imagine, and with lovers nothing is impossible. You were highly to blame first to listen, and afterwards to covenant; but, as I know the purity of your intention, and to free you from your engagement, I will grant what nobody else would do in such a case. For fear of this necromancer, who, by Ansaldo’s instigation, may do us some mischief if you disappoint him, I consent that you go to Ansaldo, and if you can by any means get quit of that tie with safety to your honour, that you endeavour to do so; otherwise that you comply indeed, though your will be chaste and pure.” The poor lady wept bitterly, and showed great reluctance, but he insisted upon her doing as he said. So, early in the morning, without any great care to make herself fine, she went with her woman and two men-servants to Ansaldo’s house. He was greatly surprised at hearing the lady was there, and said to the wise man, “You shall now see the effect of your skill. So he went to meet her, and showed her into a handsome room, where there was a great fire, and after they had sat down, “Madam,” he said, “I beg, if the long regard I have had for you merit any reward, that you would please to tell me why you come here at this time, and thus attended.” She blushed, and replied, with eyes full of tears, “sir, it is neither from love, nor from regard to my promise, but merely by my husband’s order, who, showing more respect to the labours of your inordinate love than to his honour and mine, has forced me to come hither; therefore, as it is his command, I submit to your pleasure.” If Ansaldo was surprised at the sight of the lady, he was now much more so at hearing her talk thus; and, being moved with Gilberto’s generosity, his love was changed into compassion. “Madam,” he said, “Heaven forbid that I should ever take away the honour of a person who has showed such pity for my love: therefore, you are as safe with me, as if you were my sister, and you may depart, when it seems good to you, upon condition that you tender your husband, in my name, those thanks which you think are due to his great generosity, requesting him, for the time to come, to esteem me always as his brother and faithful servant.” The lady, overjoyed with this, replied, “All the world, sir, could never make me believe, when I consider your character, that anything could have happened on my coming hither, otherwise that it has now done; for which I shall always be profoundly grateful to you.” She then took her leave, returned to her husband, and told him what had happened, and this proved the occasion of a strict friendship ever after between him and Ansaldo.
The necromancer now being about to receive his reward, and having observed Gilberto’s generosity to Ansaldo, and that of Ansaldo to the lady, said, “As Gilberto has been so liberal of his honour, and you of your love, you shall give me leave to be the same with regard to my pay: knowing it then to be worthily employed, I design it shall be yours.”
Ansaldo was ashamed, and pressed him to take all or part, but in vain. On the third day, the necromancer having made his garden vanish, and being ready to depart, Ansaldo thankfully dismissed him, having extinguished his inordinate desires, purely from a principle of honour. What say you now, ladies? Shall we prefer the dead lady, and the love of Gentil, grown cold, as destitute of all hope, to the liberality of Ansaldo, who loved more than ever, and who was fired with the greater expectation, since the prey so long pursued was then in his power? It seems to me mere folly to compare the generosity of Gentil with that of Ansaldo.
[Manni observes, that this novel was probably founded on a story current in the age of Boccaccio (and subsequently mentioned by Torthemus), concerning a Jew physician, who, in the year 876, in the middle of winter, caused by enchantment a garden, with trees and flowers in bloom, to appear before a numerous and splendid company. The story, however, of Dianora, as well as the fourth of the present day, had formerly been told by Boccaccio himself, in the fifth book of his “Filocopo,” which is an account of the loves of Flores and Biancafior. This story of Boccaccio is the origin of the “Frankelein’s Tale,” of Chaucer, in which the circumstances are precisely the same as in the “Decameron,” except that the impossible thing required by the lady is, that her lover should remove the rocks from the coast of Brittany: a similar tale, however, according to Tyrwhitt, occurs in an old Breton lay, from which he conceives the incidents may have come immediately to the English poet. Boccaccio’s story is unquestionably the origin of a story which occupies the whole of the twelfth canto of “Orlando Innamorato,” and is related by a lady to Rinaldo, while he escorts her on a journey.]