THE NOVELS OF SACCHRITTI.

ONE of the best known of the novel writers who succeeded Boccace is Sacchritti. He passed his life in conducting public affairs, and no man could be better versed in the ways of the world. This it is which gives a value to his writings which they would not otherwise possess; for his novels are in fact anecdotes of persons well-known in his time, picked up during his long intercourse with mankind. But Sacchritti labored under a mistake very natural to one of his habits and manner of life. Every little circumstance happening to persons whose characters and disposition of mind he knew, and which on this account amused himself, he imagined would interest his readers who knew nothing of either. So everything which pleased when told, he expected to please when written, forgetting how large. a share the manners and peculiarities of the narrator contributed to the production of this pleasure. This misconception has filled his writings with anecdotes without point, and amusing incidents which one wonders could ever have excited a smile on a human countenance. Another defect is, his manner of narration. He is languid and diffuse-saying what he has to say in a calm and even tone, and with a profusion of words, so that the charm of simplicity and of his pure Tuscan dialect, are unable to still the sense of weariness. From what has been said, it will be apparent that his materials are anything but choice, and his manner of treating them oftentimes anything but interesting. A man, however, who was familiar with the most remarkable persons of his time, from statesmen to jesters, and who was himself a person of note, when he tells us anecdotes of what he had seen and heard during the period of a long life, must needs relate much that is interesting. We shall, therefore, select for translation a few of what appear to us the most interesting of his novels, interspersing such remarks as occur to us. The first to which we shall call the attention of the reader, is a characteristic story of one of the kings of England.

The first king Edward of England was a prince of great virtue and fame, and of such judgment as the present novel will in part show. There was in his time, then, a certain winnower of Linari, in Valdenza, in the vicinity of Florence, whose name was Parcittadino. A wish seized this man to forsake winnowing entirely and become a jester, an occupation in which he acquired much skill: and thus practising the jester's art, a great inclination got hold of him to see the before-mentioned king Edward; and not without a wherefore, for he had heard much of his liberality, and especially towards those of his pursuit. Reflecting on this, he one morning got under way, and never stopped until he arrived in England, at the city of London, where the king resided; and going to the royal palace where he dwelt, he passed from apartment to apartment, until he arrived at the hall in which the king passed the most of his time, and found him sitting at a game of chess with the High Steward. Parcittadino having got into the king's presence, fell on his knees in respectful salutation, whilst the king held unchanged the same look or movement as when he entered, so that Parcittadino remained for a long time in this position. Seeing, then, that the king gave him no sign, he raised himself on his feet and commenced speaking: "Blessed be the hour and the moment which has conducted me here, where

I have always desired to be: that is to say, in the presence of the most noble, and the most prudent, and the most valorous prince in Christendom; and well may I congratulate myself above others of my pursuit, since I am in a place where I behold the flower of all kings. Oh! how great glory has fortune conceded me; so that should I die now, I should come to that pass with little grief, since I am in the presence of this most serene majesty, which, as the loadstone draws iron, so with its virtue draws every one with a desire to behold its worth." Scarce had Parcittadino conducted his discourse to this point, when the king rose from his game, got hold of l'arcittadino, and with cuffs and kicks trundling him along the ground, gave it him with such good will that he was thoroughly pounded. This done, he suddenly returned to the game of chess. Parcittadino, sufficiently tristful, raised himself from the ground scarce knowing where he was. Appearing to himself to have uselessly expended his time, and likewise his praises of the king, he stood very wretched, not knowing what to do. But taking heart a little, he had a mind to see if by saying the reverse to the king better luck would befall him, since for uttering good he had gathered nothing but evil. He therefore commenced, saying: "cursed be the hour and the day which conducted me to this place, where, believing that I had come to see a noble king as fame resounded, I have come to see a king ungrateful and unthankful. I thought that I had come to see a virtuous king, and I have come to see a vicious king. I thought that I had come to see a prudent and sincere king, and I have come to see a malignant king full of villainy: I thought that I had come to see a sacred and just majesty, and I have seen one who returns evil for good; and the proof is seen in this: that me, feeble creature, magnifying and honoring him, he has so misused that I know not if I shall ever again be able to winnow, if ever it should be necessary for me to return to my old occupation." The king arose a second time more enraged than at first, and going to the door called to one of his barons. Parcittadino perceiving this, it is useless to ask how it went with him. He looked like a corpse in an ague, and made sure of the king's having him executed. When he heard the king call to this lord, he held it for certain that he called the hangman to carry him to the gallows. When the lord whom the king called arrived, the king said: "Go, give this man such a garment of mine, and pay him for the truth as I have already paid him well for his lies." The lord immediately went and brought Parcittadino a royal robe-one of the most profusely ornamented that the king possessed, with so many studs of pearls and precious stones, that setting aside the cuffs and kicks which he had received, it was worth three hundred florins or more. Parcittadino immediately becoming suspicious, whether this robe was not a serpent or basilisk which might devour him, received it with circumspection. Then having reassured himself and placed it on his back, he presented himself before the king, saying: "Most sacred majesty, since it has pleased you to pay me after this sort for my lies, I shall seldom speak the truth;" and the king understood him to allude to what he had heard, and he had the more delight in him. Afterwards, having been so treated as pleased him, he took his leave and parted from the king, taking the road through Lombardy, where he went seeking out all the barons and relating this story, which was worth to him more than three hundred other florins. Thus he returned into Tuscany, and went with this robe to visit his kinsfolk winnowers of Lanari, dusty with winnowing and poor, who, much marvelling, Parcittadino said to them: "with many cuffs and kicks I too was brought to the dirt ere I won this robe in England." So he did well for many of them, and then departed and went to pursue his fortune.

The next novel to which we shall advert, is the original of the wellknown Percy ballad of king John and the Abbot of Canterbury. This, we think, the ballad writer has improved, for in the novel the questions to be answered are these: "How far is it from here to Heaven? how much water is in the sea? what is done in hell? and what is my person worth?" Now, in the replies of the pretended abbot to the three first of these, there is a sameness which spoils the effect. He says, for instance, that it is a certain number of miles, yards, feet, inches and barleycorns to heaven, and when the Signior doubts the accuracy of the measurement, tells him to measure it himself; which, as he is unable to do, he is obliged to accept the calculations of the other, or else acknowledge that he had tyrannically required that to be done which it was impossible to do. The reply to the next question is exactly the same, and that to the third only differs in this; that certain things are mentioned as going on in hell, and the Signior is requested to go and see if he doubts, and is thus sent within the gates of hell; whereas, he is only to measure as far as the gates of heaven. It has been said that Bürger's ballad on this subject was taken from the novel, but this is a mistake. Bürger, as is well known, was a great admirer of the Percy collection; indeed, his poetic style was formed on it, and he has imitated it on other occasions than this. The principal difference here is, that Bürger has changed the penalty, for with him the abbot, if he does not reply correctly, is to be condemned

-" to ride on an ass through the land, Turned about: for a bridle the tail in his hand."

The number of questions in both are only three, and the replies the same, as will be apparent by the following extract:

"In high council, the emperor here on his throne,
Adorned with sceptre and crown aloft shone;
With a word as true as a mint master may,
My worth to a penny lord Abbot now say.'

Christ, for thirty imperial florins was sold.
Then so stamp'd and so coin'd your value I hold
To be not a doit more than twenty and nine,
For less than his worth at least one must be thine.'

"Humph! said the Emperor, this makes itself heard,
And to most serene pride may a lesson afford;
By my high princely honour 'tis news to me,
That so very good cheap my value should be.'

But now you must for me cast up and decide,

On horseback, how soon round the world I may ride;
Nor lesser nor larger-to a minute express'd,

If your answer to this likewise, only a jest.'

Sire, if with the sun you should saddle and ride,

And from morning to morning with him abide ;

I'll venture my staff and my hood to boot,

That in twenty-four hours every inch you will do't.'

Ha ha!' laughed the Emperor, excellent oats,
You have foddered the horses with ifs and with buts;
The man who of if and of but takes hold,

Already, sure out of chopped straw has made gold.

The cause of quarrel in the novel, between the abbot and his Signior is, that he had ill-treated a couple of alauns which had been given him to take care of. Now, it is known that these dogs were greyhounds, but it is not known we believe, that the more proper spelling of the word is alland or allant, because it is the participle of the Fr. verb aller, to go, the greyhound being thus called from its swiftness. We mention this, because in one of the Canterbury tales, the rhyme of a couplet has been spoiled in Tyrwhitt's edition, by changing the true reading alland into alaun.

The next story to which we shall call the reader's attention, is the manner in which an experienced jester is foiled by a child. The expression Heliotrope of Calandrino' which occurs, alludes to a novel of Boccace. This Calandrino, who was a painter, is often mentioned by him for his extreme simplicity and the many hoaxes played on him. The Heliotrope was supposed to be a stone of such a nature, that by turning aside the sun's rays (Hos Tрew) it rendered those who carried it invisible. This, Bruno, a brother painter, makes Calandrino believe he has found. Many, perhaps, will be surprised to see here an acquaintance of their childhood; we mean that well-known and salutary apologue in Webster's Spelling-book, which makes clear the virtue in stones. That the M. Valore mentioned might have been so eccentric as to make many believe him insane, is very credible, but that he was no fool, is equally plain. There is a philosophy deeper than our author appears to have been aware of in his assertion, that millstones were the most precious of stones, and surpassing rubies in value. Any puns which occur in these translations must be attributed to the

author.

There are many who have seen and heard M. Valore, and know to what degree he was reputed insane-how perverse he was and malicious-there were few things about which he did not discourse and reason after the manner of a madman. Having one evening arrived at an estate in Romagna, and discoursing where there were Signiors and well-bred men; whether it was done to try him, or whether he did it of his own accord-there came a boy who was perhaps of the age of fourteen, and approaching M. Valore, he began looking in his face, saying: You are a big ditcher.' M. Valore pushing him from him with his hand, said: Get you gone,' but he remained; and M. Valore discoursing by way of amusement with those present, said: 'Which do you hold to be the most precious of all stones? One said a balass-ruby, another a simple ruby, a third the heliotrope of Calandrinothis said one thing, and that another. M. Valore replied: You are not instructed in this. The most precious stone that exists is a millstone, and if it could be set and carried in a ring, it would surpass all other stones in excellence.' The boy asked, (and pulled M. Valore by the frock) now which would you rather have, and which is worth most, a balass-ruby or a mill-stone?' M. Valore looked at him, and putting him from him with his hand, said: 'Get to the house;' but he remained. The group commenced

laughing, both at the millstone and at the words of the boy. M. Valore said; 'You laugh; but I tell you that I have found more virtue in a little pebble which is no millstone, than I ever found either in precious stones, or in words, or in herbs, and it is only the other day that I had experience of it; and you know, it is said, in these three things God has placed virtue. But hear how it was, and I believe you will all agree with me. There was the other day a youth in one of my fig trees, and doing me an injury by gather ing the fruit on it. I commenced by trying the virtue in words, come down I cried, get you gone. But in short, menace how I would, he never budged an inch for my words. Seeing that words were of no avail, I began collecting herbs and crushing them into balls, cast them at him, and with these I gave it to him several times. But it was news that he never stirred. Seeing that herbs also were of no avail, I laid hand on stones, and casting at him cried: Come down. One pebble having been thrown, when he perceived a second coming. he descended at once from the fig tree and went with a vengeance. This, all the rubys and all the baless-rubys that ever were created could not have accomplished.' The group, greatly amused, cried M. Valore is in the right, he says true;' and the boy looked at him in a malicious way, and observed: On my word, this gentleman has a great friendship for stones: He ought to have a pocket full,' and placed his hand on a pouch which he carried. M. Valore turned to him and exclaimed: Go with a mischief. Who the devil is this boy? is he Antichrist?' The boy replied, I know nothing of Antichrist, but if I were able to do what the Signiors of Romagna may, on my word I would give you so many of these stones that have such virtue in them, that you should go back to Tuscany well punished.' M. Valore, on hearing the words of the boy, as if altogether worsted, turned to the group and said: There never was a boy wise as a child, but was a numskull as a man.' The boy hearing this, replied: "The gentleman then must have been a very wise child.' M. Valore, shrugging his shoulders, said: 'I give in ;' and remained as if altogether confounded, observing: 'I have found no man to outdo me, and now an infant has conquered and outdone me.' The pleasure which those around received from this, is not to be expressed; and the more they laughed, the more M. Valore turned pale. At last M. Valore cried: Who is this boy?' It was told him that he was the son of a jester named Bergamino or Bergolino. To this he replied: there is one he loves to burr-gall, I know, since I have not been able to say a word that he has not been picking at me.' Some one said: M. Valore, take him with you into Tuscany.' He replied: So far from taking him into Tuscany, I should eschew living in it were he there. It is a solemn truth, and let it suffice, that if the other Romagnuoli are such as this boy, none of them will ever be got the better of.' So he returned to Florence, humbled and mocked by a boy, he who was used to mock all others.

The following incident is extremely illustrative of the habits of mind of the people among whom it occurs. Public business of importance is transacting, and one of the first orators of the city of Florence is on his legs. Of a sudden he stops confounded, and stands gazing on the wall, with open mouth. No sooner does the rest of the assembly ascertain the cause, than they, likewise, are affected in a similar manner; some laugh, some look amazed, but all equally forget the city of Florence, and the important business in hand. We are surprised when we find that all this is caused by certain figures ridiculously depicted on the walls of the room. Such is their keen sense of the ridiculous, and so much more weighty are affairs of taste than affairs of state, in the scales of the Italian mind.