The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio (best classic books of all time txt) 📕

by Dante and his follower Boccaccio in the contrary sense of “fear,” and may be so meant in the present instance. ↩

I.e. the cross. ↩

I.e. walled burghs. ↩

I.e. in miniature. ↩

Or character (qualità). ↩

I know of no explanation of these names by the commentators, who seem, indeed, after the manner of their kind, to have generally confined themselves to the elaborate illustration and elucidation (or rather, alas! too often, obscuration) of passages already perfectly plain, leaving the difficult passages for the most part untouched. The following is the best I can make of them. Pampinea appears to be formed from the Greek πᾶν, all, and πινύω, I advise, admonish or inform, and to mean all-advising or admonishing, which would agree well enough with the character of Pampinea, who is represented as the eldest and sagest of the female personages of the Decameron and as taking the lead in everything. Fiammetta is the name by which Boccaccio designates his mistress, the Princess Maria of Naples (the lady for whom he cherished “the very high and noble passion” of which he speaks in his Proem), in his earlier opuscule, the Elégia di Madonna Fiammetta, describing, in her name, the torments of separation from the beloved. In this work he speaks of himself under the name of Pamfilo (Gr. πᾶν, all, and φιλέω, I love, i.e. the all-loving or the passionate lover), and it is probable, therefore, that under these names he intended to introduce his royal ladylove and himself in the present work. Filomena (Italian form of Philomela, a nightingale, Greek φίλος loving, and μελός, melody, song, i.e. song-loving) is perhaps so styled for her love of music, and Emilia’s character, as it appears in the course of the work, justifies the derivation of her name from the Greek αἱμύλιος, pleasing, engaging in manners and behaviour, cajoling. Lauretta Boccaccio probably intends us to look upon as a learned lady, if, as we may suppose, her name is a corruption of laureata, laurel-crowned; whilst Neifile’s name (Greek νεῖος [νεός] new, and φιλέω, I love, i.e. novelty-loving) stamps her as being of a somewhat curious disposition, eager “to tell or to hear some new thing.” The name Elisa is not so easily to be explained as the others; possibly it was intended by the author as a reminiscence of Dido, to whom the name (which is by some authorities explained to mean “Godlike,” from a Hebrew root) is said to have been given “quòd plurima supra animi muliebris fortitudinem gesserit.” It does not, however, appear that there was in Elisa’s character or life anything to justify the implied comparison. ↩

This phrase may also be read “persuading themselves that that (i.e. their breach of the laws of obedience, etc.) beseemeth them and is forbidden only to others” (faccendosi a credere che quello a lor si convenga e non si disdica che all’ altre); but the reading in the text appears more in harmony with the general sense and is indeed indicated by the punctuation of the Giunta Edition of 1527, which I generally follow in case of doubt. ↩

Syn. cooler. ↩

See note 17 earlier in the introduction. ↩

Filostrato, Greek φίλος, loving, and στρατὸς, army, metaphorically strife, war, i.e. one who loves strife. This name appears to be a reminiscence of Boccaccio’s poem (“Il Filostrato,” well known through its translation by Chaucer and the Senechal d’Anjou) upon the subject of the loves of Troilus and Cressida and to be in this instance used by him as a synonym for an unhappy lover, whom no rebuffs, no treachery can divert from his ill-starred passion. Such a lover may well be said to be in love with strife, and that the Filostrato of the Decameron sufficiently answers to this description we learn later on from his own lips. ↩

Dioneo, a name probably coined from the Greek Διωνη, one of the agnomina of Venus (properly her mother’s name) and intended to denote the amorous temperament of his personage, to which, indeed, the erotic character of most of the stories told by him bears sufficient witness. ↩

E prima mandato là dove, etc. This passage is obscure and may be read to mean “and having first despatched [a messenger] (or sent [word]) whereas,” etc. I think, however, that mandato is a copyist’s error for mandata, in which case the meaning would be as in the text. ↩

Or balconies (loggie). ↩

I.e. nine o’clock a.m. Boccaccio’s habit of measuring time by the canonical hours has been a sore stumbling-block to the ordinary English and French translator, who is generally terribly at sea as to his meaning, inclining to render tierce three, sexte six o’clock and none noon and making shots of the same wild kind at the other hours. The monasterial rule (which before the general introduction of clocks was commonly followed by the medieval public in the computation of time) divided the twenty-four hours of the day and night into seven parts (six of three hours each and one of six), the inception of which was denoted by the sound of the bells that summoned the clergy to the performance of the seven canonical offices i.e. Matins at 3 a.m., Prime at 6 a.m., Tierce at 9 a.m., Sexte or Noonsong at noon, None at 3 p.m., Vespers or Evensong at 6 p.m. and Complines or Nightsong at 9 p.m., and at the same time served the laity as a