Preface and Day One

[Thomas]

The author begins by describing the pains he has suffered due to his "poorly regulated appetite," a fervent love, and how his friends saved his life through pleasant conversation. The book is in part an attempt to show gratitude for the comfort his friends provided, a "succor and refuge for those who are in love." In particular, he says he is writing for women, who he claims suffer more than men from the fire and melancholy of love.

But the frame of the Decameron is the Black Death of 1348. What's love got to do with it? Are the stories meant to respond in a meaningful way to the suffering caused by the plague, or are they meant solely as distractions? The characters flee Florence and organize their living arrangements in an orderly fashion, in contrast to the social breakdown occurring in the city. Are the stories organized in a certain way as well? (It's probably too soon to answer that, but I think that question will linger.)

The first story is one of the most well-known of the stories in the Decameron. What do you think of Ser Cepparello? In one light, he's outrageous; in another, he's hilarious. At the end of the story, Panfilo says that it's possible that at the very point of death Cepparello repented, so it's possible that God forgave him and welcomed him into Paradise. (What would Dante think?)

The Decameron is a compilation of 100 stories, and it will be interesting to see if there is a common thread that binds them, or if they follow a discernible pattern. Is there a common thread or pattern in Day One?

Which stories appealed to you the most? And do they all succeed as stories?

[Lia]

Thomas wrote: "But the frame of the Decameron is the Black Death of 1348. What's love got to do with it? ..."

Maybe "love", like the plague, is beyond the control of human wisdom and foresight, and mocks human attempts to build walls and draw boundaries.

Against it all human wisdom and foresight were useless. Vast quantities of refuse were removed from the city by officials charged with this function, the sick were not allowed inside the walls, and numerous instructions were disseminated for the preservation of health—but all to no avail. Nor were the humble supplications made to God by the pious, not just once but many times, whether in organized processions or in other ways, any more effective. For practically from the start of spring in the year we mentioned above, the plague began producing its sad effects in a terrifying and extraordinary manner.

Some of the elements in these tales, like human helplessness or failed technologies or futile attempts to wall lovers off sounded suspiciously like Boccaccio's description of his youthful brush with love, or his (plagiarised) historical description of the plague. I hope we will revisit the proem as well as the first introduction when we get to the end. I'm itching to cite and quote tales of love and rhetorics from the Decameron (and The Elegy of Lady Fiammetta,) that seem to echo the intro/proem, ... but my itch is not like love, nor like the plague, it stays within the bound of rules and reasons.



But there is more. From tale I.2:

he began carefully scrutinizing the behavior of the Pope, the cardinals, the other prelates, and all their courtiers. Between what he himself observed—for he was a keenly perceptive man—and the information he obtained from others, he discovered that from the highest to the lowest, all of the clergy, unrestrained by any sense of shame or remorse, committed the sin of lust in great wickedness, and not just the natural variety, but also the sodomitical, such that the influence of whores and boys was of no little importance in obtaining great favors from them. Besides this, he saw clearly that the clergy were all gluttons, drunks, and sots, who, like brute beasts, served their bellies more than anything else except for their lust. On closer inspection, he also discovered that they were all so avaricious and moneygrubbing that they would as readily buy and sell human blood, that is to say the blood of Christians, as they would sacred objects, whether the sacraments or benefices were involved. In these matters they did more business and employed more middlemen than could be found in any Paris market, including that of the cloth trade. They gave the name of “procurement” to their buying and selling of Church offices, and of “daily rations” to their gluttony, as if, no matter what their words actually referred to, God could not understand the intentions in their wicked hearts, and would allow Himself to be deceived, just as men are, by the names that are given to things.

The impossibility of walling off the corrupting influence of the Church itself also sounds like the plight of living with the plague. Which reminds me of Camus' use of the plague (partly) as allusion to the Nazi occupation, or Cicero's metaphor for civil war.

Since Boccaccio himself endured and then got over his youthful excessive love thanks to a sympathetic community that did not take the burden away from him but merely offered him comfort, maybe these tales will also not take the plague away from those suffering under it, but help them endure.

[Lia]

Thomas wrote: "What do you think of Ser Cepparello? In one light, he's outrageous; in another, he's hilarious..."

I adore Ser Cepparello, he died like he lived: he's true to his own nature, without compromise, even in face of his own personal death! He's admirably consistent!

That aside, I'm worried that we the readers are being mocked. We're told how virtuous and chaste the brigta is, but what if they're stealing worldly regards with lofty rhetorics while blatantly flaunting tales of transgressions? Are we laughably gullible if we believe in their virtues? Hmm...

[Alexey]

Lia wrote: "Thomas wrote: "What do you think of Ser Cepparello? In one light, he's outrageous; in another, he's hilarious..."

I adore Ser Cepparello, he died like he lived: he's true to his own nature, withou..."

You are talking about this most generous gentleman who, despite his illness, went with all the troubles to save the honour of his hosts. And they even did not bother to hide their despise of him.

Indeed, it is interesting to look at the stories, skipping descriptions of the characters and judging just by actions.

[Lia]

Ah, yes, the supreme gentleman Ciappelletto. The way Boccaccio described his principled method of doing bad for its own sake and not for any extrinsic reward is like the dark mirror version of the Aristotelian most ultimate choiceworthy good.

I can’t help noticing this first tale is told in a garden, and we have someone who is so pure, so ultimately “evil” (?), who achieves his ends through trickster dialogues … and he has two hiding accomplices who become initiated into the knowing-party (who get to laugh at the gullible with us privileged readers) … we basically have the full cast of Adam and Eve and their eloquent danger-noodle pal. Funny how this is how Ser Ciappelletto won his ticket to paradise, as opposed to how they lost it.

Alexey wrote: "Indeed, it is interesting to look at the stories, skipping descriptions of the characters and judging just by actions."

When you put it this way, it makes me think of it like a non-quantitative trolley problem. Is it justifiable to deliberately act on killing one person in order to save 5? Is it permissible/ effective/ justice / “good” (?) to retrieve what you are owed by employing someone like Ciappelletto? If two innocent men are saved from unearned but apparently inescapable social disgrace, is the act of false confession a kind of “good” (in a mercantile, utilitarian sense)?

[Roger]

It's hard to understand Ciappelletto's motivation for his elaborate ruse, conducted while dying a lingering death among strangers. Gratitude or benevolence towards his reluctant hosts seems impossible. Perhaps it's just an elaborate joke.

I wonder how many dying Florentines played the same joke.

[Thomas]

Lia wrote: "Ah, yes, the supreme gentleman Ciappelletto. The way Boccaccio described his principled method of doing bad for its own sake and not for any extrinsic reward is like the dark mirror version of the Aristotelian most ultimate choiceworthy good. ..."

It reminded me Kierkegaard's story of the merman in Fear and Trembling. The demonic is the dark, reversed, mirror-image of faith. It is at least philosophically consistent... but Ser Ciappelletto is funnier. Or is he? (I think he is... but I'm at pains to say exactly why.)

[Thomas]

Roger wrote: "It's hard to understand Ciappelletto's motivation for his elaborate ruse, conducted while dying a lingering death among strangers. Gratitude or benevolence towards his reluctant hosts seems impossi..."

I wonder if it is death itself that is being mocked.

When the Covid pandemic started, the popularity of movies like "Contagion" and "Outbreak" surged. Maybe the first tale told as the brigata settles in for their quarantine is prompted by a similar sentiment.

[Roger]

What's the point of a joke if no-one ever gets it?

[Lia]

Thomas wrote: "The demonic is the dark, reversed, mirror-image of faith. It is at least philosophically consistent... but Ser Ciappelletto is funnier. Or is he? (I think he is... but I'm at pains to say exactly why.)"

Both the Merman and Ser Ciappelletto encountered someone who is a little too trustful in face of their deceptions. The Merman repents and is tormented with despair, and awakens to the possibility (not actuality though) of genuine love; Ser Ciappelletto repents nothing, suffered no despair, and awakened to nothing that he can choose to deny. There’s no genuine eternal self for the finite self to relate to. The social good is the seeming, the appearance. There’s nothing edifying about Ciappelletto’s sickness unto death … or is there? (His two hidden friends seemed to have learned an important lesson about how to thrive in this sick and dying world filled to the brim with gullible peasants and clergy…)

[Alexey]

Perhaps, the monk was not so charmingly naive as the Agnete in the Merman's story, besides Ser Ciappelletto has no intention to crash the monk.

[Thomas]

Cphe wrote: "Enterprising the young women who had the idea first to flee into the countryside and undertook the journey.
Somehow, with the times depicted I would have thought that women were more in the backgro..."

Pampinea says the women are exercising their rights by leaving the city. I thought that was interesting way to put it considering it was the 14th century. The men are needed for a little balance, but the women are the ones who make the decisions.

[Thomas]

Panfilo appears to state the moral of the Ceparello story at the outset:

And yet He, from whom nothing is hidden, pays more attention to the purity of the supplicant than to his ignorance or to the damned state of his intercessor, listening to those who pray as if their advocate were actually blessed in His sight. All of this will appear clearly in the tale I intend to tell -- clearly, I say, not in keeping with the judgement of God, but with that of men.

Maybe the joke is people will believe whatever they want to believe, but the specifics of what they believe does not really matter. What really matters is their purity of heart.

[Susan]

Part of what interested me about Ser Cepperello’s Tale was the contrast to the beginning of the Decameron where the seven young women meet “without prior agreement but simply by chance” in the Florentine church Santa Maria Novella, where they are reciting their paternosters in a city haunted by the plague. For me, the ambiguity of this story told in their countryside escape contrasts to the image of their dutiful prayer in the city. Does the story represent a sceptical view of organized religion influenced by the powerlessness of prayer over the plague? And why is this the first story?

(Having been lucky enough to visit Santa Maria Novella, I have a picture of it as very much still an active church where people are making their devotions as the tourists come and go.)

[Lia]

Susan wrote: "Does the story represent a sceptical view of organized religion influenced by the powerlessness of prayer over the plague? And why is this the first story?..."

It's also interesting that they, by chance ("fortunes"), congregated in a church, and more or less came up with their own solution based on reasons and human ingenuity ... but then they immediately cited scriptures to limit themselves:

“It is certainly true,” said Elissa, “that man is the head of woman, and without a man to guide us, only rarely does anything we do accord us praise.5"

Footnotes: Elissa’s opening remark alludes to Ephesians 5.23.

Ephesians 5.23 From the Internet:
Wives, be subject to your own husbands, as [a service] to the Lord. For the husband is head of the wife, as Christ is head of the church,

Of course, there's that other thing Paul ostensibly said in relation to men being heads

1 Corinthians 14:34-35 KJV
Let your women keep silence in the churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak; but they are commanded to be under obedience, as also saith the law. And if they will learn any thing, let them ask their husbands at home: for it is a shame for women to speak in the church.

And then three men miraculously materialized in front of them, deus ex machina style. They kept silent while the women spoke, and the consequence of this fortunate turn of event is that they left the church according to the women's plan.

With that said, wherever they strayed to, they stayed within the confines of (metaphorically) walled gardens, so not quite home either, but definitely not churches.

If the first tale signals skepticism, it seems to question the veracity of how institutions interpret "the sign". What the church solemnly judges to be saintly might actually be the purest sinner of all time. They have a lot of certainty and authority behind them, but that certitude is entirely human and might actually be silly.

The ladies paraphrased scriptures while speaking out in the church, the men stayed silent and accepted the women's leadership, all that happened thanks to "fortune", and they seem to be doing something dignified, rewarding, and instructive (but have to use pseudonyms none the less, knowing the world will likely misjudge them.)

[Lia]

Susan wrote: "(Having been lucky enough to visit Santa Maria Novella, I have a picture of it as very much still an active church where people are making their devotions as the tourists come and go.)..."

I'd love to see that if you care to share ^_^

I noticed our mod has locked the frostbitten scholar out there shivering in the snowing courtyard and I'm trying to leave him there, but apparently this (I Fioretti Di S. Francesco E Lo Specchio Della Vera Penitenza Di Fra Iacopo Passavanti) was delivered at the height of the plague in Santa Maria Novella, admonishing church goers to live an ascetic life in order to save their souls, interpreting the plague as God's wrath.

If that's the case, to have the ladies speak up in that very same church ("which was otherwise almost empty") and then leading an exodus seems to have skated past the territory of irony into polemics.

[Thomas]

Lia wrote: "If the first tale signals skepticism, it seems to question the veracity of how institutions interpret "the sign". What the church solemnly judges to be saintly might actually be the purest sinner of all time. They have a lot of certainty and authority behind them, but that certitude is entirely human and might actually be silly."

I think it also identifies the Church as a human institution, and that acknowlegement is something that happens numerous times throughout the Decameron. It would be very easy for Boccaccio to be judgemental about the hypocrisy of the Church, but instead of pointing out the failures of the clergy to live up to their divine calling and judging them for it, he shows them to be simply human with all of the typical human foibles. The clergy are just as gullible and susceptible to human weakness as anyone else. That makes them great fodder for comedy.

[Alexey]

Boccaccio did certainly show the Church as a very human institution and made great fun of clergy inability to live as they preach. However, when he wrote about the faith itself (it is not a very accurate term here, but l cannot find the better), he was rather more serious and sober.

[Lia]

I strongly agree with everything else being said in @18 except for the characterization of Boccaccio’s depiction as an acknowledgement. I think I’d rather label that as “outing” or “disclosing” or “unconcealing”. The Church dresses itself up as mediating between the eternal and the temporal, between the human and the divine, but it’s actually 100% human, the stuff of “low” genre, aka comedy. There’s a sense of violating disclosure in the ribbing, of ripping the dignifying veil off.

Of course, that kind of “unconcealing” or “outing” of hypocrites is not limited to the clergies, from Tale 1.08 (Lauretta’s):

For to the immense shame of those who nowadays, despite their corrupt and contemptible habits, claim the name and title of gentlemen and lords, these court entertainers of ours look more like asses […] it used to be their function, something to which they devoted all their energy, to make peace where quarrels or disputes had arisen among gentlemen, to arrange marriages, alliances, and friendships, to restore the spirits of the weary and entertain the court with splendid, elegant witticisms, and as fathers do, to criticize the defects of the wicked

BTW, the subtitle of this book is also known as Prince Galeotto. From the introductory essay in the Rebhorn trans (Norton):

Galeotto is the Italian form of Gallehault, the name of a character in a French romance who acted as a go-between or pander for Guinevere and Lancelot. Clearly, Dante wants us to see the limited nature of Francesca’s vision here. He also wants us to see that this is the wrong way to go about reading: one needs to move beyond the literal or fleshly level to the allegorical or spiritual one. Echoing Francesca—and Dante—Boccaccio says that his book, too, is a Galeotto...

I wonder if what Lauretta said about what gentlemen and lords were supposed to do is what “Prince Galeotto” is inducing this brigatta to do — to go between, to mediate, to arrange alliances, to entertain with elegant wit, to criticize defects as fathers do. And if a book can induce (seduce?) Francesca and Paolo into consummating their relationship, then maybe the Decameron can also act as that kind of go between, the function gentlemen-turned-asses are neglecting to perform.

[Lia]

Alexey wrote: "However, when he wrote about the faith itself (it is not a very accurate term here, but l cannot find the better), he was rather more serious and sober."

I don’t know, I haven’t made up my mind about how to read this and I’m conflicted. I’m not claiming or suggesting that Boccaccio might be an atheist (I’m not denying that possibility either…), but I also think his criticisms go beyond just the clerics who (understandably) fail like all humans do. I have in mind tales like 1.03, the story of the three rings, which seems to indicate fundamentally contradictory doctrines are all “true” … doesn’t that indicate the foundational doctrine itself is BS?

Also, the tale of Day 1.02 (Abraham the Jew converting after one visit despite overwhelming stench of corruption) can be read in many different ways, but, given the plague context, and how Boccaccio depicted the contagiousness of the plague, doesn’t it sound like he’s using the story to indicate the foundation of the Church is the plague, and Abraham the Jew becoming infected after one brief exposure?

Again, I’m sure you can interpret these stories to mean different things, or nothing at all, but given how consistently his characters are attacking the church, and they are depicted as paraphrasing what the Bible said about women while acting the opposite way before walking out on it, it’s conceivable that these tales that question the “truth” about the doctrines and the foundation are also meant to be an attack on the religion beyond the human foibles.

I'd love to see how other interpret these tales though. I'm sure other readers react to the text differently.

[Roger]

Boccaccio seems to have full respect for the piety of the seven young ladies.

[David]

There does not seem to be many choices between the two extreme responses to the plague. Living cautiously in isolation vs. living publicly like there is no tomorrow.

Some people were of the opinion that living moderately and being abstemious would really help them resist the disease. They, therefore, formed themselves into companies and lived in isolation from everyone else.

and

Others, holding the contrary opinion, maintained that the surest medicine for such an evil disease was to drink heavily, enjoy life’s pleasures, and go about singing and having fun, satisfying their appetites by any means available, while laughing at everything and turning whatever happened into a joke. . .
. . .And yet, while these people behaved like wild animals, they always took great care to avoid any contact at all with the sick.

How those of one opinion must have wondered at how those of the contrary opinion balanced the inconveniences with the risks. The group of ten seems to be a hybrid of these options, traveling to some now "common property" and taking it over to party responsibly in isolation.

[Thomas]

Lia wrote: "The Church dresses itself up as mediating between the eternal and the temporal, between the human and the divine, but it’s actually 100% human, the stuff of “low” genre, aka comedy. ."

But Panfilo notes there is a difference between the Church and God when he allows for the possibility that Cepparello "sits among the Blessed in the presence of God." It doesn't seem likely, on the basis of appearances, but the story itself is about the nature of appearances. Should the people who faithfully follow Ciappalletto as a saint be condemned -- or even laughed at -- because they fall prey to appearances, when their hearts are pure?

One of the interesting aspects of this story is that it shows the power of storytelling to transcend appearances -- or pretend to, anyway. It makes some sense that that when the world is in chaos that people tell stories to restore some sense to it.

[Lia]

Cphe wrote: "That is also human nature and doesn't seem to have changed to this date.

The old adage about history repeating itself still rings true..."

You know what's really, really crazy?

Boccaccio, despite having lived through the plague, and lost his parents to it, decided to "borrow" Paul the Deacon's account (you can read it in History of the Lombards) of the plague, point by point. Why write about his own experience when it's the same as last time? (Or is it?)

[Lia]

Thomas wrote: "But Panfilo notes there is a difference between the Church and God when he allows for the possibility that Cepparello "sits among the Blessed in the presence of God." It doesn't seem likely, on the basis of appearances, but the story itself is about the nature of appearances. Should the people who faithfully follow Ciappalletto as a saint be condemned -- or even laughed at -- because they fall prey to appearances, when their hearts are pure? "

I do agree Panfilo seems to be presenting a case of epistemic humility — we can’t know, he seems like a well rounded bad guy, but God’s way is inscrutable.

But the way he seems to be saying “who knows” is a bit like Abraham the Jew saying the foundation of the Christian Church must be the real deal if something as corrupt as that continues to attract followers (which is why he signs up to become another follower) … it’s so ridiculous it’s funny. But who knows? Boccaccio is inscrutable…

Also, I caved and got myself a penguin (they’re very cute when they waddle), and the footnote indicates:

Musciatto Franzesi Like many of the other characters in the Decameron, those appearing in this first story are based on actual people. Fourteenth-century chroniclers relate that Musciatto, a Florentine financier, made a huge fortune in France, chiefly through advising the French king, Philip the Fair, to counterfeit coinage and fleece Italian merchants. Cepperello Dietaiuti of Prato was one of his business associates. The military expedition into Italy, encouraged by Pope Boniface VIII, of King Philip’s brother, Charles of Valois (‘Carlo Senzaterra’, or Charles Lackland) took place in 1301. One of its most famous consequences was the banishment and exile from Florence of Dante Alighieri.

So the first story is someone who climbed his way into the gentry by scamming Italian merchants, and the real Cepperello was in cahoots with Pope Boniface VIII, whom was implicated in the banishment of Dante, and was said to be Dante’s enemy number one:
http://danteworlds.laits.utexas.edu/t...

Boniface's pontificate was marked by a consolidation and expansion of church power, based on the view--expressed in a papal bull (Unam sanctam)--that the pope was not only the spiritual head of Christendom but also superior to the emperor in the secular, temporal realm. Dante, by contrast, firmly held that the pope and emperor should be co-equals with a balance of power between the pope's spiritual authority and the emperor's secular authority.

The context of these real historical figures make it seem improbable that Boccaccio thinks he scammed his way into paradiso (Coincidentally, Marsilius refuted Boniface VIII assertion of papal authority over the secular world by characterizing the church itself as a plague.) But the text itself is so full of irony that, I'm just going to admit I can't be certain about anything.

[David]

Thomas wrote: "I think it also identifies the Church as a human institution, and that acknowlegement is something that happens numerous times throughout the Decameron."

Human failings all around seem to be demonstrated. I was struck by Filomena's declaration,

"That really does not matter in the least," said Filomena. "If I live like an honest woman and my conscience is clear, let people say what the like to the contrary, for God and Truth will take up arms on my behalf.

And then in the fist story,

He does not consider our sinfulness, but the purity of our faith, and even though we make our intercessor one of His enemies, thinking him His friend, God still grants our prayers as if we were asking a true saint to obtain His grace for us."

Both of these attempt to demonstrate the divinely forgiven human fallibility to truthfully judge the reputations of others, with regard to faith.

This seems to confuse the relationship between faithfulness and sin. Using the plague as a license to live like animals as if there were no tomorrow seems analogous to using faith as a license to sin believing all will be forgiven in the end. On the other hand, those being abstemious because of the plague seems analogous to those who draw strength from their faith to keep from sinning.

[Alexey]

David wrote: "Thomas wrote: "I think it also identifies the Church as a human institution, and that acknowlegement is something that happens numerous times throughout the Decameron."

Human failings all around s..."

Hope that God will forgive our sins, though we don't deserve it, is the basis of Christianity. Of course, then come variants in interpretation.

As for 'the divinely forgiven human fallibility to truthfully judge the reputations of others, with regard to faith', it was the crux in the Donatists schism. So, here Boccaccio is totally on the orthodox side. Not to say, it is just common sense to assume our fallibilities in judging other's faithfulness.

However, your comparison with the behaviour during the plague is accurate, imo.

[Lia]

David wrote: " I was struck by Filomena's declaration,

"That really does not matter in the least," said Filomena. "If I live like an honest woman and my conscience is clear, let people say what the like to the contrary, for God and Truth will take up arms on my behalf.

And then in the fist story,

He does not consider our sinfulness, but the purity of our faith, and even though we make our intercessor one of His enemies, thinking him His friend, God still grants our prayers as if we were asking a true saint to obtain His grace for us."

Both of these attempt to demonstrate the divinely forgiven human fallibility to truthfully judge the reputations of others, with regard to faith..."

Fair point, but what I find especially jarring here is that Filomena asserts God and Truth will take up arms on her behalf without a middleman, but Panfilo insists some kind of intercessor is necessary:

It is wrong to believe that this grace descends to us and enters us because of any merit of our own. Rather, it is sent by His loving kindness and is obtained through the prayers of those who, though mortal like us, truly followed His will while they were alive and now enjoy eternal bliss with Him. To them, as to advocates informed by experience of our frailty, we offer up prayers about our concerns, perhaps because we do not dare to present them personally before the sight of so great a judge.

So people not brave enough rely on “advocates” … like Ser Ciappelletto, to intercede.

But this is why I think it’s significant: Panfilo, after that weird introductory remark about the necessity of advocates to mediate between “mortal like us” and the divine, name drops Pope Boniface, whom is primarily known for the controversial Unam sanctam: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unam_sa...

The content of the Unam sanctam? “it is necessary for salvation that every human creature be subject to the Roman Pontiff”; “outside of the Church, there is no salvation”

(Panfilo also sounded off-puttingly preachy -"It is wrong to believe..."- as though he's reciting the papal bull itself.)

So who is right? Filomena? Or Panfilo? The way he gave us such a memorable sinner par excellence canonized into sainthood makes me wonder if he’s mocking the idea that saints and Roman Pontiffs are necessary go-betweens. I know he says God only cares about “the purity of our faith” … but if that is the case, what is the point of the middleman again?

[Lia]

Of course, people "not brave enough", who end up hiring the likes of Ser Ciappelletto to do the scary deeds on their behalf, are the likes of Musciatto Franzesi, who:

he had heard the Burgundians were a quarrelsome lot, evil by nature and untrustworthy, and he could think of no one he could rely on who would be sufficiently wicked that his wickedness would match theirs.

He's saying people who don't appeal to God for themselves, but instead try to do business with the Church to bargain for salvation, are basically false gentlemen like Musciatto, isn't he?

[Alexey]

Lia wrote: "Boccaccio, despite having lived through the plague, and lost his parents to it, decided to "borrow" Paul the Deacon's account (you can read it in History of the Lombards) of the plague, point by point. Why write about his own experience when it's the same as last time? (Or is it?)"

Medieval authors are famous for their love to reuse text from more ancient and illustrious colleagues in their chronicles. They often depicted an event using a suitable report of other events in some venerable work, preferably patristic or the Bible itself. As I understand, this tradition was falling out of fashion in the times of Boccaccio, giving way to the fashion for originality, but he may want to make this passage looks more like a chronicle.

[Lia]

Alexey wrote: "Medieval authors are famous for their love to reuse text from more ancient and illustrious colleagues in their chronicles. They often depicted an event using a suitable report of other events in some venerable work, preferably patristic or the Bible itself. As I understand, this tradition was falling out of fashion..."

I’ve heard something like that: “originality” wasn’t highly valued until late modernity. It’s not just medieval authors either, it goes way back. (Ovid’s Metamorphoses comes to mind — a collection of extant myths and fables glued together in an epic frame.)

On top of the footnotes, I’ve also been looking at other documented Decameron sources … so much is borrowed (but not without modifications), it makes me feel like I’m reading a literary collage (like the Wasteland, for example, but at least Eliot includes footnotes and tells readers where his fragments came from.)

The evil for its own sake characterization of Ser Cepparello, for example, was how Cicero described Caesar in De Officiis.

[David]

Lia wrote: "So who is right? Filomena? Or Panfilo?"

Filomena's declaration seemed almost protestant to me at first in relying solely on her own relationship with God to judge her truthfully and not public opinion. Here I think we must differentiate between public opinion and the "official", or Papal opinion of the Catholic Church.

Panfilo's story demonstrates the fallibility of public opinion,

The next day people immediately began going there to light candles and pray to him, and later they made vows to him and hung up ex-votos of wax in fulfillment of the promises they had made.* So great did the fame of Ciappelletto’s holiness and the people’s devotion to him grow that there was almost no one in some sort of difficulty who did not make a vow to him rather than to some other saint. In the end, they called him Saint Ciappelletto, as they still do. . .

If I am reading this right, Filomena and Panfilo's feelings seem complimentary, where the former discards public opinion, and the later demonstrates the fallibility of public veneration and favors "official" veneration.

[Alexey]

It looks like people always like mostly good old stories retelling in the contemporary style, with the modernity as an odd period of originality as a prime virtue for the writers. And, of course, who needs a boring footnotes.

I have not checked, but believe Boccaccio freely used both the textual sources and the folklore.

[Lia]

Panfilo’s basket of gullible seems to include the “official” veneration:

The holy friar who had confessed Ser Ciappelletto, having heard that he had passed away, came to an understanding with the Prior of the monastery, and after the chapterhouse bell had been rung and the friars were gathered together, he explained to them how Ser Ciappelletto had been a holy man, according to what he had deduced from the confession he had heard. And in the hope that the Lord God was going to perform many miracles through Ser Ciappelletto, he persuaded the others to receive the body with the greatest reverence and devotion. The credulous Prior and the other friars agreed to this plan, and in the evening they all went to the room where Ser Ciappelletto’s body was laid and held a great and solemn vigil over it. Then, in the morning, they got dressed in their surplices and copes, and with their books in their hands and the cross before them, they went for the body, chanting along the way, after which they carried it to their church with the greatest ceremony and solemnity, followed by almost all the people of the city, men and women alike. Once the body had been placed in the church, the holy friar who had confessed Ser Ciappelletto mounted the pulpit and began to preach marvelous things about him, about his life, his fasts, his virginity, his simplicity and innocence and sanctity, recounting, among other things, what he had confessed to him in tears as his greatest sin, and how he had scarcely been able to get it into his head that God would forgive him for it. After this, the holy friar took the opportunity to reprimand the people who were listening. “And you, wretched sinners,” he said, “for every blade of straw your feet trip over, you blaspheme against God and His Mother and all the Saints in Paradise.”
Besides this, the holy friar said many other things about Ser Ciappelletto’s faith and purity, so that in short, by means of his words, which the people of the countryside believed absolutely, he managed to plant the image of Ser Ciappelletto so deeply inside the minds and hearts of everyone present that when the service was over, there was a huge stampede as the people rushed forward to kiss Ser Ciappelletto’s hands and feet. They tore off all the clothing he had on, each one thinking himself blessed if he just got a little piece of it.

If anything, the official mediation tricked the trusting gullible public into worshipping the devil.

[Alexey]

Lia wrote: "Alexey wrote: "However, when he wrote about the faith itself (it is not a very accurate term here, but l cannot find the better), he was rather more serious and sober."

I don’t know, I haven’t mad..."

The doctrine of the church was much more vague and broad than it is now, or a couple of centuries after the Boccaccio. Aquinas was already a saint, but his teaching was far from universally accepted. And with the other religions, particularly with the three Abrahamic, relations were unclear and unstable. As for the story 1.03, it is a dialogue between two infidels, and it gives a lot more flexibility to the author. If the Christian were involved, it would end like the previous.

Story about Jews remind of one custom, though it is quite vague in my memory. After the Papal election, the new Pontiff rode around Rome, visiting different communities and churches, re-establishing their rights and obligations. He also met the Jewish community, the chief asked the Pope to examine and sanction their law. He gave the scroll to the Pope, the latter respectfully take it in his hands, pretended to read it and gave roughly this speech: 'Your law is good and right, but it missed the main point; Messiah has already come and this is our Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ. But OK, you may live with this law.' With that, he returned the scroll to the chief and rode further.

[David]

Lia wrote: "Panfilo’s basket of gullible seems to include the “official” veneration:
The holy friar who had confessed Ser Ciappelletto, having heard that he had passed away, came to an understanding with the P..."

According to Wikipedia, a local friar or even a local bishop were still too local than the top down papal approval that Panfilo seems to be advocating.

By the fourth century, however, "confessors"—people who had confessed their faith not by dying but by word and life—began to be venerated publicly. Examples of such people are Saint Hilarion and Saint Ephrem the Syrian in the East, and Saint Martin of Tours and Saint Hilary of Poitiers in the West. Their names were inserted in the diptychs, the lists of saints explicitly venerated in the liturgy, and their tombs were honoured in like manner as those of the martyrs. Since the witness of their lives was not as unequivocal as that of the martyrs, they were venerated publicly only with the approval by the local bishop. This process is often referred to as "local canonization".
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canoniz...

[Lia]

Alexey wrote: "The doctrine of the church was much more vague and broad than it is now, or a couple of centuries after the Boccaccio. Aquinas was already a saint, but his teaching was far from universally accepted. And with the other religions, particularly with the three Abrahamic, relations were unclear ..."

The question for me is, what is Boccaccio trying to say by including stories that question (or thematize) the truthiness of church foundation and fundamental doctrine of the religion. We know the story of the three rings and the wise Jew was extant, and the mental-gymnastic argument the converting Jew made was common in medieval sermons, but why is that story told on the first day after they walked out on a church, after women subversively paraphrased the Bible while speaking up in a church? And it comes immediately after very explicit criticism/mocking of the Church and their rituals and their fallible friars. And this story was told on the only day they can freely choose the topic, and almost (?) all the stories on this day are subversive. Is this part of a pattern of subversive criticizing of various aspects of the religion (the institution, the fallible friars, the truth or reasonableness of the foundational doctrine)? Is it criticizing/ questioning/ mocking anything at all? (on its own, the 3 rings story can surely be read as merely clever and not critical. The criticism in the conversion story is a little too raw for it to be anything else.)

Boccaccio didn’t invent the story, but he’s putting this story in this portion of the frame. Does that mean anything at all? Or is it just amusing with no relevance to anything else in the setting?

[Lia]

David wrote: "According to Wikipedia, a local friar or even a local bishop were still too local for what Panfilo seems to be advocating, dropping the Pope's name and all."

But that’s how parodies or metaphors work, right? He isn’t directly, explicitly saying Pope Boniface is personally leading the public to worship the devil. He’s casually mentioning Pope Boniface, issuer of the unam sanctam, and the face of medieval Papal power grab grounded in his assertion of necessity of church mediation in salvation; while (mockingly?) playing up the preachy tone to declare it is a mistake to believe we can get a share of His “grace” without going through “an advocate” … and then telling a funny story using real historical figures affiliated with Boniface, about mercantile usurers hiring the devil himself to mediate his worldly debt collecting affair, and all that worldly, secular affairs led to the “local canonization” farce.

[Thomas]

Lia wrote: "And this story was told on the only day they can freely choose the topic, and almost (?) all the stories on this day are subversive. Is this part of a pattern of subversive criticizing of various aspects of the religion (the institution, the fallible friars, the truth or reasonableness of the foundational doctrine)?"

Very broadly speaking, the stories of the first day hinge on the recognition of a reality that is hiding behind and differs from appearances. Sometimes this recognition is made by a character in the story, but more often it is made by the reader/listener. There are a lot of tricks played by characters in the Decameron, but the biggest and most basic trick is that of telling a story -- a lie -- in order to reveal the truth. Maybe all story-telling is subversive in this way.

[Lia]

Thomas wrote: "Very broadly speaking, the stories of the first day hinge on the recognition of a reality that is hiding behind and differs from appearances. … the biggest and most basic trick is that of telling a story -- a lie -- in order to reveal the truth. Maybe all story-telling is subversive in this way."

Oh I agree, and it’s not just the first day. Boccaccio comes clean (I feel gullible saying this) in the Proem:

I would tell you their real names, but there is a good reason that prevents me from doing so…

Even the identities of his characters are veiled, recognition demands reading past the surface language, beginning from the proem.

But, back to our dialogue: my point is that on the other 9 days, a theme is imposed on the brigata, day 1 is the only day they can tell whatever story they individually desire, and they end up individually choosing to tell tales that all seem somewhat subversive. So should we read the two tales that thematize the foundation of the church, and the contested doctrine of this particular religion, as just amusing and uniquely not subversive, or do we let the other tales being told in the day influence our interpretation and entertain the possibility that they are also (subversively) rocking the boat and questioning their legitimacy?

[Thomas]

In the preface the author describes how he suffered from a kind of immoderation and how his friends came to his aid with conversation and consolation. It strikes me that all of the stories in Book 1 try to right an imbalance in some way. Subversion might be too strong a term for all of these cases, but there is an opposite-force element in each of the stories. They expose an imbalance, one which is often covered over by hypocrisy, and imply that the remedy is moderation and honesty.

I wonder what this has to do with the plague though? Why do the brigata want to tell these kinds of stories in the shadow of death?

[Lia]

Thomas wrote: "I wonder what this has to do with the plague though? Why do the brigata want to tell these kinds of stories in the shadow of death? "

I suspect the physiological, physical fact of the plague is merely incidental. Instead of writing his personal account, he translates Paul de Deacon’s, it’s hard to imagine the actuality of that particular event is very significant.

But let’s look at Pampinea’s rhetorics when she urged the ladies to leave the city:

And as for the few people still around, they make no distinction, as I have often heard and seen for myself, between what is honest and what is not, and prompted only by their appetites, they do what promises them the most pleasure, both day and night, alone and in groups. Moreover, I am not speaking only of laymen, but also of those cloistered in monasteries, who have convinced themselves that such wicked behavior is suitable for them and only improper for others. Breaking their vows of obedience, they have given themselves over to carnal pleasures, and in the belief that they will thereby escape death, they have become wanton and degenerate…the best thing for us to do in our present situation would be to leave the city, just as many have done before us and many are still doing, lest we fall prey through timidity or complacency to what we might possibly avoid if we desired to do so. We should go and stay on one of our various country estates, shunning the wicked practices of others like death itself, but having as much fun as possible, feasting and making merry, without ever overstepping the bounds of reason in any way.

It sounded as though she’s equally (if not more) concerned about becoming “wanton and degenerate” as she is about physical survival. The whole endeavor is about finding a way to avoid succumbing to the moral decay. The tales they told seem didactic about finding the moderate, golden means between extremes (a)moral choices, and not about hand washing and mask wearing and social distancing.

But, back to the fact that he borrowed Deacon’s plague instead of writing his own: Deacon’s (aka Justinian) plague preceded the general decline and change of social relations and societal collapse of the antiquity, ushering in the middle age. To quote (the unscholarly) wiki: The middle of the 6th century was characterized by extreme climate events (the volcanic winter of 535-536 and the Late Antique Little Ice Age) and a disastrous pandemic (Plague of Justinian in 541). ... The general decline of population, technological knowledge and standards of living in Europe during this period became the archetypal example of societal collapse for writers from the Renaissance. As a result of this decline, and the relative scarcity of historical records from Europe in particular, the period from roughly the early fifth century until the Carolingian Renaissance (or later still) was referred to as the "Dark Ages". 

What if Boccaccio brought up the plague that ended antiquity to prophesy the end of the middle age and the beginning of the Renaissance? And the ten days of story telling is to teach and prepare for a new way of moderate, pleasant, virtuous living suitable for a new era based not on church dogma, but on reason?

[Lia]

Pampinea wrote: "prompted only by their appetites, they do what promises them the most pleasure"


1.04 Dioneo’s tale is about a monk getting away with (surviving) his akrasia by tricking the Abbot into satisfying the same appetitive desire

1.05 Fiammetta’s tale of shutting down the King with a feast of hens seems like a lesson about surviving other (more powerful but fallen) people’s appetitive impulses.

We have one condoning complete appetite satisfaction against rules and church and propriety. The only knuckles rapped was the abbot’s, and it reads like a how-to guide to weaponize hypocrisy to make sure a lowly monk can also get away with sexually abusing young girls so the abbot can’t hoard it all. (how egalitarian!)

We have another tale of extreme chaste behavior, so chaste that the King, whom was maddened by (sexual) appetite for a time, and obviously in a powerful position to get whatever he wants, ended up scuttling off with his tail between his legs.


It looks as though they are developing a vaccine against the moral plague from day one.

[Susan]

Lia, Sometimes it seems to me that the worst sin for contemporary scholars is to plagiarize. But as someone pointed out above, that’s not how it was in Boccaccio’s day. So personally, I absolve him ;)

And, I can imagine a variety of reasons why he might have chosen to borrow the plague description from another source rather than writing it himself from scratch — he was in a hurry and it saved time, he thought it was a better description than he could write, he was so distressed at his memories of that time that he couldn’t face writing his own account, and/or so on. But we can’t know what he was thinking or the reason(s) for his choice however interesting it is to speculate. Which leaves me unsure what we can do with the fact that he borrowed that language in understanding the story he’s telling through the frame of ten characters and their stories.

You asked above about my picture of people worshipping in Santa Maria Novella — it is a mental picture rather than a photograph. Imagine a very large, high- roofed church — cool and dim — with a stream of visitors, some peering at the pictures on the walls and dropping coins in to momentarily light up the picture for a better view, some admiring the architecture as they listen to their tour guide —and toward the front, an area with chairs and people coming, sitting and praying for awhile, then leaving.

[Lia]

Sorry for misunderstanding about your picture, Susan, LOL.

I want to clarify that I'm not blaming or dismissing Boccaccio for "plagiarizing," I brought up TS Eliot and Ovid for a reason -- TS Eliot because his most famous poem is entirely made up of things other people have published or things he has heard people say. It's a programmatic, artistic choice. He's collecting fragments.

As for Ovid ... he also famously borrows and spins extant sources, but Boccaccio's borrowing of Ovid is so systematic, it’s probably meant to be noticed (Ovid was like common core school textbooks in Boccaccio's days.) In fact, this is so well known, Boccaccio is sometimes called "the Italian Ovid"

We can’t know for sure why Boccaccio rearranged these sources and other extant tales to form this collage-like literary masterpiece, but I think those can still be treated as interpretive clues.

[Borum]

Thomas wrote: "Lia wrote: "The Church dresses itself up as mediating between the eternal and the temporal, between the human and the divine, but it’s actually 100% human, the stuff of “low” genre, aka comedy. ."
..."

I think the first story corresponds with the last story told by the queen, as we see in both stories how someone's appearance (or reputation) is not always reliable and that we may see through that facade. It also goes in hand with how the queen warns the other ladies how they shouldn't just rely on their physical appearances and nobility but be on guard to understand and apply their wits. All the other stories involve how the wit is used to defend themselves and get out of trouble. In times where there is little to rely on (even for a wealthy aristocrat) but yourself, it is no longer womanly or honest to remain stupid and dull. This round of storytelling may have not only recreational but also an educational value.

[Borum]

Borum wrote: "Thomas wrote: "Lia wrote: "The Church dresses itself up as mediating between the eternal and the temporal, between the human and the divine, but it’s actually 100% human, the stuff of “low” genre, ..."

I found Pampinea's feminist attitude in the last story somewhat conflicting with how Filomena and Elissa invited the guys to come with the ladies as they needed to be led by men as they thought women could be irrational 'when left to themselves' Was it just an excuse to invite the men (who were romantically involved with some of them) to join them? No one seemed to object to having Pampinea being the first leader.

[Lia]

Borum wrote: "I think the first story corresponds with the last story told by the queen, as we see in both stories how someone's appearance (or reputation) is not always reliable… they shouldn't just rely on their physical appearances and nobility but be on guard to understand and apply their wits."

When you said that, I immediately concurred … but on slightly different grounds, I think.

The first and last stories on day one resonate for me because both narrators gave an immediately suspicious, self-contradictory sermon before their story, and the surface moral of the story might not be the actual moral of the story. Valiant, witty Ser Cepparello might not actually be a role model to emulate; Filostrato’s claim that an intermediary is necessary might not be sincere, and …

With similarly over the top “pretentious” or nagging rhetorics, Pampinea scolds with long, ornate, winding lecture that long, ornate, winding orations are not suitable for ladies:

Worthy young ladies, just as heaven is decorated with stars on cloudless nights, and the green meadows are brightened with flowers in the spring, so good manners and pleasant conversation are adorned with clever quips. These, because they are brief, are much better suited to women than to men, whereas it is much less becoming for the former than the latter to give long, elaborate speeches, when they can be avoided. Yet nowadays, there is hardly a woman left who understands witticisms,

Is she lacking self-awareness when she presumes to lecture them and “teach” them from a position of authority? Or is she wink-wink-nudge-nudging about how to interpret her story?

In this as in other matters, the truth is that one must take into account the time, the place, and the person … the blush, which they intended for someone else, winds up on their face instead.

On the surface, it seems the doctor succeeded in humiliating the lady and taught her a lesson, but did he? Boccaccio’s is not impressed with the doctors in the introduction; the doctor is living in Bologna, and other “Masters” from Bologna will show up in the tales, and they don’t come off very well (and they brag about being from Bologna while humiliating themselves), leaving me wondering if “Bologna” is a pejorative for Boccaccio. He’s the one who behaved badly by stalking a lady like a mad man, they invited him in and entertained him courteously and asked him a question, the doctor is the only one scolding with a long, self-serving sermon. (I know, Pampinea claims it’s fine when men do it, but was she sincere?)

He lost his temper at the girl for not yielding to his crude advances. The girl kept her courtly composure, answered briefly and courteously, without putting out. The doctor didn’t get the girl, sounded like a curmudgeon in his ineffective lecture, and left without getting what he wants. Who is getting depicted as prancing around as if he has the upper hand while blushing in humiliation? Given Pampinea’s admonition in the church, and her objection to Dioneo’s salacious tale, it’s very difficult to imagine she meant to promote the doctor’s predatory behavior while blaming the lady for courteously shutting him down.


Borum wrote: "I found Pampinea's feminist attitude in the last story somewhat conflicting with how Filomena and Elissa invited the guys to come with the ladies as they needed to be led by men as they thought women could be irrational 'when left to themselves' Was it just an excuse to invite the men (who were romantically involved with some of them) to join them? No one seemed to object to having Pampinea being the first leader"

I’m so glad you pointed this out … notice Filomena was the one who puts all women down in order to argue for the necessity of bringing men along with them, Filomena is also the one who grants Dioneo the special permission to tell the last tale, and on any topic. But this is the really exciting bit for me, spoiler for Day Two Story 3:

(view spoiler)[We’re told Pampinea thought through her story carefully, seriously:

Pampinea, finding herself right next to Panfilo and realizing that it had to be her turn to speak, as it just so happened to be, collected her thoughts and started pondering what she was going to say. Then, at the Queen’s command, she began to speak in a confident and lively manner:

And then she gave us a tale of a girl, who escaped her predicament of being doomed to marry an old man in a political marriage, by defending her secret liaison with a stranger she just met on the road to the Pope by citing God and virtues:

“Holy Father, as you yourself know better than anyone, a person who desires to live a good and honorable life should do his utmost to avoid any motive for behaving differently. Now, since I really do desire to live such a life, I fled here in secret, wearing only the clothes you see I have on, so that your Holiness could arrange for my marriage. I also brought along a substantial portion of the treasures belonging to my father who wanted me to marry the King of Scotland, who’s a very elderly man, whereas I’m a young girl, as you can see. Nevertheless, I did not flee because the King of Scotland is old, but because I feared that if I were married to him, the frailty of my youth would lead me to do something contrary to divine law and against the honor of my father’s royal blood.
“This was my frame of mind on my way here, when God, who knows best what each one of us needs, was moved by His compassion to set before my eyes the man whom He chose to be my husband. And that man was this youth”—here she pointed to Alessandro—“whom you see beside me, someone whose character and manners make him a worthy match for a great lady, even though he may not be as pure blooded as a member of some royal family. He, therefore, is the one I’ve chosen, the only one I really want, and I will never accept another, no matter what my father or anyone else may think about it.

On the surface, she's self-debasing as a weak-willed creature whom is doomed to fall because of her nature, in reality she got away with escaping her arranged marriage by cleverly humbling herself while claiming it's God's plan, her ingenuity has nothing to do with how things turned out.
(hide spoiler)]

I wonder if Pampinea pointedly crafted this story as a wink to Filomena that she knows what she’s doing…

[Lily]

Lia wrote: "I wonder if Pampinea pointedly crafted this story as a wink to Filomena that she knows what she’s doing…

Lia -- I tripped over the antecedents of "she" -- do I have the interpretation you intended: "I wonder if Pampinea pointedly crafted this story as a wink to Filomena that she (Pampinea) knows what she’s (Filomena's) doing…"

Another possible twist? "Pampinea pointedly crafted this story as a wink to Filomena that she (Filomena) knows what she’s (Pampinea's) doing…"

I have been awaiting to see if power plays between/among the storytellers reveal themselves, much as they would in "real life". The discussions have been useful in providing clues, although not a pattern so far?

[Lia]

I see how that can be confusing, Lily. I meant the first interpretation: I suspect Pampinea is saying "I (P) see what you (F) did there" to Filomena with her story.

I'm curious what Filomena could possibly "know" about Pampinea's politely hidden trick though. Pampinea did not object to bringing the three men with them, but Neifile did, so Filomena seemed to have opposed Pampinea at first by saying women can’t make it without men, but then supported Pampinea after Neifile’s objection, by saying “God and Truth will take up arms on my behalf.” The dynamic seems quite messy and their motives are open to different interpretations.

Speaking of power plays, I suspect Pampinea is in some kind of power struggle with Dioneo in establishing the men's place in the brigata. She pointedly said the men should join them “in a spirit of pure, brotherly affection”, and she is “related by blood to one of the men,” (siblings? cousins?), but Dioneo introduced explicit erotic elements in the stories the first chance he got.

Dioneo also threatened to take his ball and go home if they won’t do what he wants (“you must either prepare to have fun … or you should give me leave to go back there to reclaim my troubles”), and Pampinea immediately asserts her position (“since I am the one who initiated the discussions that led to the formation of this fair company, I think that if we are to preserve our happiness, we have to …”

Lastly, we won’t find out until Day 10, but it turns out one, and only one, of the ladies is a (view spoiler)[Ghibelline (hide spoiler)]. Given how rancorous and enduring that political struggle had been during that time, it’s shocking that there weren’t open conflict between the characters. Boccaccio doesn’t say who, so I’ve been rereading like literary-sudoku, trying to figure out who this might be based on what they say about the church / various cities / the King of France etc.

Pampinea discouraged game plays, but Boccaccio is making me read this book like a game!