Stories from the Italian Poets: With Lives of the Writers, Vol. 2 - Leigh Hunt
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And he shed tears, did that king, though he had been so lofty and fierce.
Orlando dismounted quickly, with his own face in tears. He gathered the
king tenderly in his arms, and took and laid him by the fountain, on
a marble cirque which it had; and then he wept in concert with him
heartily, and asked his pardon, and so baptised him in the water of the
fountain, and knelt and prayed to God for him with joined hands.
He then paused and looked at him; and when he perceived his countenance
changed, and that his whole person was cold, he left him there on the
marble cirque by the fountain, all armed as he was, with the sword by his
side, and the crown upon his head.
* * * * *
I think I may anticipate the warm admiration of the reader for the whole
of this beautiful episode, particularly its close. "I think," says
Panizzi, "that Tasso had this passage particularly in view when he wrote
the duel of Clorinda and Tancredi, and her conversion and baptism before
dying. The whole passage, from stanza xii. (where Agrican receives his
mortal blow) to this, is beautiful; and the delicate proceeding of
Orlando in leaving Agrican's body armed, even with the sword in his hand,
is in the noblest spirit of chivalry."--Edition of _Boiardo and Ariosto_,
vol. iii. page 357.
The reader will find the original in the Appendix No. I.
In the course of the poem (canto xix. stanza xxvi.) a knight, with the
same noble delicacy, who is in distress for a set of arms, borrows those
belonging to the dead body, with many excuses, and a kiss on its face.
[Footnote 1:
"Che tutti insieme, e 'l suo Re Galafrone,
Non li stimava quanto un vil bottone."]
[Footnote 2: Berni has here introduced the touching words, "Would I were
not so!" (Cosi non foss'io!)]
[Footnote 3: This proposal is in the highest ingenuous spirit of the
absurd wilfulness of passion, thinking that every thing is to give way
before it, not excepting the same identical wishes in other people.]
[Footnote 4: Very fine all this, I think.]
THE SARACEN FRIENDS.
A FAIRY LOVE-TALE
Argument.
Prasildo, a nobleman of Babylon, to his great anguish, falls in love with
his friend's wife, Tisbina; and being overheard by her and her husband
threatening to kill himself, the lady, hoping to divert him from his
passion by time and absence, promises to return it on condition of his
performing a distant and perilous adventure. He performs the adventure;
and the husband and wife, supposing that there is no other way of her
escaping the consequences, resolve to take poison; after which the lady
goes to Prasildo's house, and informs him of their having done so.
Prasildo resolves to die with them; but hearing, in the mean time, that
the apothecary had given them a drink that was harmless, he goes and
tells them of their good fortune; upon which the husband is so struck
with his generosity, that he voluntarily quits Babylon for life and the
lady marries the lover. The new husband subsequently hears that his
friend's life is in danger, and quits the wife to go and deliver him from
it at the risk of his own, which he does.
This story, which has resemblances to it in Boccaccio and Chaucer, is
told to Rinaldo while riding through a wood in Asia, with a damsel behind
him on the same horse. He has engaged to combat in her behalf with a band
of knights; and the lady relates it to beguile the way.
The reader is to bear in mind, that the age of chivalry took delight in
mooting points of love and friendship, such as in after-times would
have been out of the question; and that the parties in this story are
Mahometans, with whom divorce was an easy thing, and caused no scandal.
THE SARACEN FRIENDS.
Iroldo, a knight of Babylon, had to wife a lady of the name of Tisbina,
whom he loved with a passion equal to that of Tristan for Iseult;[1] and
she returned his love with such fondness, that her thoughts were occupied
with him from morning till night. Among other pleasant circumstances
of their position, they had a neighbour who was accounted the greatest
nobleman in the city; and he deserved his credit, for he spent his great
riches in doing nothing but honour to his rank. He was pleasant in
company, formidable in battle, full of grace in love; an open-hearted,
accomplished gentleman.
This personage, whose name was Prasildo, happened to be of a party one
day with Tisbina, who were amusing themselves in a garden, with a game in
which the players knelt down with their faces bent on one another's laps,
and guessed who it was that struck them. The turn came to himself, and
he knelt down to the lap of Tisbina; but no sooner was he there, than he
experienced feelings he had never dreamt of; and instead of trying to
guess correctly, took all the pains he could to remain in the same
position.
These feelings pursued him all the rest of the day, and still more
closely at night. He did nothing but think and sigh, and find the soft
feathers harder than any stone. Nor did he get better as time advanced.
His once favourite pastime of hunting now ceased to afford him any
delight. Nothing pleased him but to be giving dinners and balls, to make
verses and sing them to his lute, and to joust and tournay in the eyes of
his love, dressed in the most sumptuous apparel. But above all, gentle
and graceful as he had been before, he now became still more gentle and
graceful--for good qualities are always increased when a man is in
love. Never in my life did I know them turn to ill in that case. So, in
Prasildo's, you may guess what a super-excellent person he became.
The passion which had thus taken possession of this gentleman was not
lost upon the lady for want of her knowing it. A mutual acquaintance
was always talking to her on the subject, but to no purpose; she never
relaxed her pride and dignity for a moment. The lover at last fell ill;
he fairly wasted away; and was so unhappy, that he gave up all his
feastings and entertainments. The only pleasure he took was in a solitary
wood, in which he used to plunge himself in order to give way to his
grief and lamentations.
It happened one day, early in the morning, while he was thus occupied,
that Iroldo came into the wood to amuse himself with bird-catching. He
had Tisbina with him; and as they were coming along, they overheard their
neighbour during one of his paroxysms, and stopped to listen to what he
said.
"Hear me," exclaimed he, "ye flowers and ye woods. Hear to what a pass of
wretchedness I am come, since that cruel one will hear me not. Hear, O
sun that hast taken away the night from the heavens, and you, ye stars,
and thou the departing moon, hear the voice of my grief for the last
time, for exist I can no longer; my death is the only way left me to
gratify that proud beauty, to whom it has pleased Heaven to give a
cruel heart with a merciful countenance. Fain would I have died in her
presence. It would have comforted me to see her pleased even with that
proof of my love. But I pray, nevertheless, that she may never know it;
since, cruel as she is, she might blame herself for having shewn a scorn
so extreme; and I love her so, I would not have her pained for all her
cruelty. Surely I shall love her even in my grave."
With these words, turning pale with his own mortal resolution, Prasildo
drew his sword, and pronouncing the name of Tisbina more than once with a
loving voice, as though its very sound would be sufficient to waft him
to Paradise, was about to plunge the steel into his bosom, when the lady
herself, by leave of her husband, whose manly visage was all in tears for
pity, stood suddenly before him.
"Prasildo," said she, "if you love me, listen to me. You have often told
me that you do so. Now prove it. I happen to be threatened with nothing
less than the loss of life and honour. Nothing short of such a calamity
could have induced me to beg of you the service I am going to request;
since there is no greater shame in the world than to ask favours from
those to whom we have refused them. But I now promise you, that if you do
what I desire, your love shall be returned. I give you my word for it. I
give you my honour. On the other side of the wilds of Barbary is a garden
which has a wall of iron. It has four gates. Life itself keeps one; Death
another; Poverty the third; the fairy of Riches the fourth. He who goes
in at one gate must go out at the other opposite; and in the midst of the
garden is a tree, tall as the reach of an arrow, which produces pearls
for blossoms. It is called the Tree of Wealth, and has fruit of emeralds
and boughs of gold. I must have a bough of that tree, or suffer the most
painful consequences. Now, then, if you love me, I say, prove it. Prove
it, and most assuredly I shall love you in turn, better than ever you
loved myself."
What need of saying that Prasildo, with haste and joy, undertook to do
all that she required? If she had asked the sun and stars, and the whole
universe, he would have promised them. Quitting her in spite of his love,
he set out on the journey without delay, only dressing himself before he
left the city in the habit of a pilgrim.
Now you must know, that Iroldo and his lady had set Prasildo on that
adventure, in the hope that the great distance which he would have to
travel, and the change which it might assist time to produce, would
deliver him from his passion. At all events, in case this good end was
not effected before he arrived at the garden, they counted to a certainty
on his getting rid of it when he did; because the fairy of that garden,
which was called the Garden of Medusa, was of such a nature, that
whosoever did but look on her countenance forgot the reason for his going
thither; and whoever saluted, touched, and sat down to converse by her
side, forgot all that had ever occurred in his lifetime.
Away, however, on his steed went our bold lover; all alone, or rather
with Love for his companion; and so, riding hard till he came to the Red
Sea, he took ship, and journeyed through Egypt, and came to the mountains
of Barca, where he overtook an old grey-headed palmer.
Prasildo told the palmer the reason of his coming, and the palmer told
him what the reader has heard about the garden; adding, that he must
enter by the gate of Poverty, and take no arms or armour with him,
excepting a looking-glass for a shield, in which the fairy might behold
her beauty. The old man gave him other directions necessary for his
passing out of the gate of Riches; and Prasildo, thanking him, went on,
and in thirty days found himself entering the garden with the greatest
ease, by the gate of Poverty.
The garden looked like a Paradise, it was so full of beautiful trees, and
flowers, and fresh grass. Prasildo took care to hold the shield over his
eyes, that he might avoid seeing the fairy Medusa; and in this manner,
guarding his approach, he arrived at the Golden Tree. The fairy, who was
reclining against the trunk of it, looked up, and saw herself in the
glass. Wonderful was the effect on her. Instead of her own white-and-red
blooming face, she beheld that of a dreadful serpent. The spectacle made
her take to flight in terror; and the lover, finding his object so far
gained, looked freely at the tree, and climbed it, and bore away a
bough[2].
With this he proceeded to the gate of Riches. It was all of loadstone,
and opened with a great noise. But he passed through it happily, for he
made the fairy who kept it a present of half the bough; and so he issued
forth out of the garden, with indescribable joy.
Behold our loving adventurer now on his road home. Every step of the way
appeared to him a thousand. He took the road of Nubia to shorten the
journey; crossed the Arabian Gulf with a breeze in his favour; and
travelling by night as well as by day, arrived one fine morning in
Babylon.
No sooner was he there, than he sent to tell the object of his passion
how fortunate he had been. He begged her to name her own place and time
for receiving the bough at his hands, taking care to remind her of her
promise; and he could not help adding, that he should die if she broke it.
Terrible was the grief of Tisbina at this unlooked-for news. She threw
herself on her couch in despair, and bewailed the hour she was born.
"What on earth am I to do?" cried the wretched lady; "death itself is no
remedy for a case like this, since it is only another mode of breaking my
word. To think that Prasildo should return from the garden of Medusa! who
could have supposed it possible? And yet, in truth, what a fool I was to
suppose any thing impossible to love! O my husband! little didst thou
think what thou thyself advisedst me to promise!"
The husband was coming that moment towards the room; and overhearing his
wife grieving in this distracted manner, he entered and clasped her in
his arms. On learning the cause of her affliction, he felt as though he
should have died with her on the spot.
"Alas!" cried he, "that it should be possible for me to be miserable
while I am so dear to your heart. But you know, O my soul! that when love
and jealousy come together, the torment is the greatest in the world.
Myself--myself, alas! caused the mischief, and myself alone ought to
suffer for it. You must keep your promise. You must abide by the word you
have given, especially to one who has undergone so much to perform what
you asked him. Sweet face, you must. But oh! see him not till after I am
dead. Let Fortune do with me what she pleases, so that I be saved from a
disgrace like that. It will be a comfort to me in death to think that
I alone, while I was on earth, enjoyed the fond looking of that lovely
face. Nay," concluded the wretched husband, "I feel as though I should
die over again, if I could call to mind in my grave how you were taken
from me."
Iroldo became dumb for anguish. It seemed to him as if his very heart had
been taken out of his breast. Nor was Tisbina less miserable. She was as
pale as death, and could hardly speak to him, or bear to look at him. At
length turning her eyes upon him, she said, "And do you believe I could
make my poor sorry case out in this world without Iroldo? Can he bear,
himself, to think of leaving his Tisbina? he who has so often said, that
if he possessed heaven itself, he should not think it heaven without her?
O dearest husband, there is a way to make death not bitter to either of
us. It is to die together. I must only exist long enough to see Prasildo!
Death, alas! is in that thought; but the same death will release us. It
need not even be a hard death, saving our misery. There are poisons so
gentle in their deadliness, that we need but faint away into sleep, and
so, in the course of a few hours, be delivered. Our misery and our folly
will then alike be ended."
Iroldo assenting, clasped his wife in distraction; and for a long time
they remained in the same posture, half stifled with grief, and bathing
one another's cheeks with their tears. Afterwards they sent quietly for
the poison; and the apothecary made up a preparation in a cup, without
asking any questions; and so the husband and wife took it. Iroldo drank
first, and then endeavoured to give the cup to his wife, uttering not a
word, and trembling in every limb; not because he was afraid of death,
but because he could not bear to ask her to share it. At length, turning
away his face and looking down, he held the cup towards her, and she took
it with a chilled heart and trembling hand, and drank the remainder to
the dregs. Iroldo then covered his face and head, not daring to see her
depart for the house of Prasildo; and Tisbina, with pangs bitterer than
death, left him in solitude.
Tisbina, accompanied by a servant, went to Prasildo, who could scarcely
believe his ears when he heard that she was at the door requesting to
speak with him. He hastened down to shew her all honour, leading her
from the door into a room by themselves; and when he found her in tears,
addressed her in the most considerate and subdued, yet still not unhappy
manner, taking her confusion for bashfulness, and never dreaming what a
tragedy had been meditated.
Finding at length that her grief was not to be done away, he conjured
her by what she held dearest on earth to let him know the cause of it;
adding, that he could still die for her sake, if his death would do her
any service. Tisbina spoke at these words; and Prasildo then heard what
he did not wish to hear. "I am in your hands," answered she, "while I
am yet alive. I am bound to my word, but I cannot survive the dishonour
which it costs me, nor, above all, the loss of the husband of my heart.
You also, to whose eyes I have been so welcome, must be prepared for my
disappearance from the earth. Had my affections not belonged to another,
ungentle would have been my heart not to have loved yourself, who are so
capable of loving; but (as you must well know) to love two at once is
neither fitting nor in one's power. It was for that reason I never loved
you, baron; I was only touched with compassion for you; and hence the
miseries of us all. Before this day closes, I shall have learnt the taste
of death." And without further preface she disclosed to him how she and
her husband had taken poison.
Prasildo was struck dumb with horror. He had thought his felicity at
hand, and was at the same instant to behold it gone for ever. She who was
rooted in his heart, she who carried his life in her sweet looks, even
she was sitting there before him, already, so to speak, dead.
"It has pleased neither Heaven nor you, Tisbina," exclaimed the unhappy
young man, "to put my best feelings to the proof. Often have two lovers
perished for love; the world will now behold a sacrifice of three. Oh,
why did you not make a request to me in your turn, and ask me to free you
from your promise? You say you took pity on me! Alas, cruel one, confess
that you have killed yourself, in order to kill me. Yet why? Never did I
think of giving you displeasure; and I now do what I would have done at
any time to prevent it, I absolve you from your oath. Stay, or go this
instant, as it seems best to you."
A stronger feeling than compassion moved the heart of Tisbina at these
words. "This indeed," replied she, "I feel to be noble; and truly could
I also now die to save you. But life is flitting; and how may I prove my
regard?"
Prasildo, who had in good earnest resolved that three instead of two
should perish, experienced such anguish at the extraordinary position in
which he found all three, that even her sweet words came but dimly to his
ears. He stood like a man stupified; then begged of her to give him but
one kiss, and so took his leave without further ado, only intimating that
her way out of the house lay before her. As he spake, he removed himself
from her sight.
Tisbina reached home. She found her husband with his head covered up as
she left him; but when she recounted what had passed, and the courtesy of
Prasildo, and how he had exacted from her but a single kiss, Iroldo got
up, and removed the covering from his face, and then clasping his hands,
and raising it to heaven, he knelt with grateful humility, and prayed God
to give pardon to himself, and reward to his neighbour. But before he had
ended, Tisbina sunk on the floor in a swoon. Her weaker frame was the
first to undergo the effects of what she had taken. Iroldo felt icy chill
to see her, albeit she seemed to sleep sweetly. Her aspect was not at all
like death. He taxed Heaven with cruelty for treating two loving hearts
so hardly, and cried out against Fortune, and life, and Love itself.
Nor was Prasildo happier in his chamber. He also exclaimed against the
bitter tyrant "whom men call Love;" and protested, that he would gladly
encounter any fate, to be delivered from the worse evils of his false and
cruel ascendency.
But his lamentations were interrupted. The apothecary who sold the potion
to the husband and wife was at the door below, requesting to speak with
him. The servants at first had refused to carry the message; but the old
man persisting, and saying it was a matter of life and death, entrance
for him into his master's chamber was obtained. "Noble sir," said the
apothecary, "I have always held you in love and reverence. I have
unfortunately reason to fear that somebody is desiring your death. This
morning a handmaiden of the lady Tisbina applied to me for a secret
poison; and just now it was told me, that the lady herself had been at
this house. I am old, sir, and you are young; and I warn you against the
violence and jealousies of womankind. Talk of their flames of love! Satan
himself burn them, say I, for they are fit for nothing better. Do not be
too much alarmed, however, this time: for in truth I gave the young woman
nothing of the sort that she asked for, but only a draught so innocent,
that if you have taken it, it will cost you but four or five hours'
sleep. So, in God's name, give up the whole foolish sex; for you may
depend on it, that in this city of ours there are ninety-nine wicked ones
among them to one good."
You may guess how Prasildo's heart revived at these words. Truly might he
be compared to flowers in sunshine after rain; he rejoiced through all
his being, and displayed again a cheerful countenance. Hastily thanking
the old man, he lost no time in repairing to the house of his neighbours,
and telling them of their safety: and you may guess how the like joy was
theirs. But behold a wonder! Iroldo was so struck with the generosity
of his neighbour's conduct throughout the whole of this extraordinary
affair, that nothing would content his grateful though ever-grieving
heart, but he must fairly give up Tisbina after all. Prasildo, to do him
justice, resisted the proposition as stoutly as he could; but a man's
powers are ill seconded by an unwilling heart; and though the contest was
long and handsome, as is customary between generous natures, the husband
adhered firmly to his intention. In short, he abruptly quitted the city,
declaring that he would never again see it, and so left his wife to the
lover. And I must add (concluded the fair lady who was telling the story
to Rinaldo), that although Tisbina took his departure greatly to heart,
and sometimes felt as if she should die at the thoughts of it, yet since
he persisted in staying away, and there appeared no chance of his ever
doing otherwise, she did, as in that case we should all do, we at least
that are young and kind, and took the handsome Prasildo for second
spouse.[3]
PART THE SECOND
The conclusion of this part of the history of Iroldo and Prasildo was
scarcely out of the lady's mouth, when a tremendous voice was heard among
the trees, and Rinaldo found himself confronting a giant of a frightful
aspect, who with a griffin on each side of him was guarding a cavern
that contained the enchanted horse which had belonged to the brother of
Angelica. A combat ensued; and after winning the horse, and subsequently
losing the company of the lady, the Paladin, in the course of his
adventures, came upon a knight who lay lamenting in a green place by a
fountain. The knight heeding nothing but his grief, did not perceive the
new comer, who for some time remained looking at him in silence, till,
desirous to know the cause of his sorrow, he dismounted from his horse,
and courteously begged to be informed of it. The stranger in his turn
looked a little while in silence at Rinaldo, and then told him he had
resolved to die, in order to be rid of a life of misery. And yet, he
added, it was not his own lot which grieved him, so much as that of a
noble friend who would die at the same time, and who had nobody to help
him.
The knight, who was no other than Tisbina's husband Iroldo, then briefly
related the events which the reader has heard, and proceeded to state how
he lead traversed the world ever since for two years, when it was his
misfortune to arrive in the territories of the enchantress Falerina,
whose custom it was to detain foreigners in prison, and daily give a
couple of them (a lady and a cavalier) for food to a serpent which kept
the entrance of her enchanted garden. To this serpent he himself was
destined to be sacrificed, when Prasildo, the possessor of his wife
Tisbina, hearing of his peril, set out instantly from Babylon, and rode
night and day till he came to the abode of the enchantress, determined
that nothing should hinder him from doing his utmost to save the life of
a friend so generous. Save it he did, and that by a generosity no less
devoted; for having attempted in vain to bribe the keeper of the prison,
he succeeded in prevailing on the man to let him substitute himself for
his friend; and he was that very day, perhaps that very moment, preparing
for the dreadful death to which he would speedily be brought.
"I will not survive such a friend," concluded Iroldo. "I know I shall
contend with his warders to no purpose; but let the wretches come, if
they will, by thousands; I shall fight them to the last gasp. One comfort
in death, one joy I shall at all events experience. I shall be with
Prasildo in the other world. And yet when I think what sort of death he
must endure, even the release from my own miseries afflicts me, since it
will not prevent him from undergoing that horror."