 The author's epilogue of the DeCameron This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The DeCameron by Giovanni Boccaccio, translated by H. M. Rigg. The author's epilogue Most noble damsels, for whose solace I addressed me to this long and tossome task. Me seams that, aided by the divine grace, the bestowal whereof I impute to the efficiency of your pious prayers, and in no wise to merits of mine, I have no broad this work to the full and perfect consummation, which in the outset thereof I promised you. Wherefore it but remains for me to render, first to God and then to you, my thanks, and so to give a rest to my pen and weary hand. But this I purpose not to allow them, until briefly as to questions tacitly mooted, for well assured I am that these stories have no a special privilege above any others. Nay, I forget not, that at the beginning of the fourth day I have made the same plain. I shall have answered certain trifling objections, that one of you may be or some other might advance. Per adventures, then, some of you will be found to say, that I have used excessive license in the writing on these stories, in that I have caused ladies at times to tell, and often times to list, matters that, whether to tell or to list, do not well be seen virtuous women. The which I deny, for that there is none of these stories so unseemly, but that it may without offence be told by any one, if but seemly words be used, which rule me thinks has here been very well observed. But assume, we, that this even so, for with you I am not minding to engage in argument, waiting that you would vanquish me. Then I say that, for answer, where I have so done, reasons many, come very readily to hand. In the first place, if all of the kind in any of these stories there be, it was but such as was demanding by the character of the stories, which let but any person of sound judgment scan with the eye of reason, and it will be abundantly manifest that, unless I had been minded to deform them, they could not have been otherwise recounted. And if, but chance, they do after all, contained here and there a trifling indiscretion of speech, such as might ill sort with one of your precious truths, who weigh words rather than deeds, and are more concerned to appear than to be good, I say that sort of right was as permissible to me as this to men and women at large in their converse to make use of such terms as whole and pin and mortar, and pestle and sausage and polony, and plenty more besides of alike sort. And there was all privilege no less should be allowed to my pen than to the pencil of the painter, who without incurring any or at least any just censor, not only will depict St. Michael smitting the serpent, or St. George the dragon, with sword or lance in his discretion, but male he paints as Christ, and female Eve, and his feet that were the salvation of our race will to die upon the cross, he fastened thereto, now with one and now with two nails. Moreover, this patent to all, that it was not in the church, of matters were to pertaining, this meet we speak with all purity of heart and simlinness of race, albeit among her histories, there are to be found not a few, that will ill compare with my writings, nor yet in the schools of the philosophers, where as much as anywhere, simlinness is demanded, nor in any place or clergy or philosophers congregate, but in gardens, in plazonses and among folk, young indeed, but not so young as to be seductible by stories, and at a time when, if so one might save one's life, the most sedate might without disgrace walk abroad with his breeches for headgear, that these stories well told. Which stories, such as they are, may, like all things else, be baneful or profitable according to the quality of the hero, who knows not that wine is, as Cingiglione or Scolayo and many other aware, an excellent thing for the living creature, and yet noxious to the fevered patient. Are we, for the mischief it does to the fever-stricken, to say that it is a bad thing? Who knows not that fire is most serviceable, nay, necessary to mortals? Are we to say that, because it burns houses and villages and cities, it is a bad thing? Arms, in like manner, are the safeguard of those that desire to live in peace, and also by them are men, not seldom maliciously slain. I'll pay the malice not in them, but in those that use them for a malicious purpose. Corrupt mind did never yet understand any word in a wholesome sense, and as such a mind has no prophet of seemly words, so such as are scarce seemly, may as little avail, to contaminate a healthy mind, as month radiance of the sun, or the deformities of earth, the splendors of the heavens. What books, what words, what letters are more sacred, more excellent, more venerable, that those of holy writ? And yet there have been not a few that, perversely constructing them, have brought themselves and others to perdition. Everything is in itself good for somewhat, and being put to a bad purpose may work manifold mischief. And so I say it is with my stories, if any man shall be minded to draw from them matters of evil tendency or consequence, they will not gain say him, if perchance, such matters there be in them, nor will such matters fail to be found in them, if they be rested and distorted. Nor if any shall seek profit and reward in them, will they deny him the same, and sendured or accounted as less than profitable and seemly they can never be, if the times or the persons one and by whom they are read be such, as when they were accounted. If any lady must need say pattern nostres, or make cakes or tarts for her holy father, let her leave them alone, there is none after whom they will run a begging to be read. How bad there are little matters that even the beguines tell, I and do now and again. In like manner there will be some who will say that there are stories here which it were better far had been omitted. Granted, but it was neither in my power nor did it be of me to write any but such stories as were narrated, wherefore it was for those by whom they were told to have a cure that they were proper, in which case they would have been no less though as I wrote them. But assuming that I not only wrote but invented the stories as I did not, I say that they should take no shame to myself that they were not all proper. Seeing that artists there is none to be found, save God, that does all things well and perfectly. And Charlemagne, albeit he created the Pelladins, wished not how to make them in such numbers as to form an army of them alone. It must needs be that in the multitude of things there be found diversities of quality. No field was ever so well-tilled, but that here and there nettle or sassel or breer would be found in it amid the goodlier growth. Where too I may add that, having to address me to young and unlearned ladies, as you for the most part are, I should have done foolishly had I gone about searching and swinking to find matters very exquisite and been sedulous to speak with great precision. However, because there goes a reading among these stories, let him pass over those that wax him and read those that please him, that none may be missled each beers on its brow the epitome of that which it hides within its bosom. Again, I doubt not there will be such, as we'll say, that some of the stories are too long, to whom once more I answer, that whoso has ought else to do would be foolish to read them, albeit they were short. And though, now that I approach the end of my labours, it is long since I began to write, I am not therefore oblivious, that it was to none but leisure ladies that I made proffer of my pains, nor can ought be long to him that reads, but to pass the time, so only he thereby accomplishes his purpose. Succinctness were rather to be desired by students, who are at pains not merely to pass, but usefully to employ their time than by you, who have as much time at your disposal as you spend not in amorous delights. Besides which, as none of you goes either to Athens or to Bologna or to Paris to study, it is me that what is meant for you should be more diffuse than what is to be read by those whose minds have been refined by scholarly pursuits. Nor make I any doubt that there are yet others who will say that the said stories are too full of jests and merry consents, and that it all besiems a man of weight and gravity to have written on such wise. To these I am bound to render, and do render my thanks. For that, prompted by well-meant zeal, they have so tender regard to my reputation, but to that which they urge against me I reply after this sort, that I am of weight or I acknowledge having been often weighed in my time. We are therefore in answer to the fear that have not weighed me, I affirm that I am not of gravity. On the contrary, I am so light that I float on the surface of the water, in considering that the sermons which the friars make, when they could chide the folk for their sins, are today, for the most part, full of jests and merry consents and drollaries. I deemed that the like stuff would not ill-be-see my stories, written as they were, to banish women's dumps. However, if thereby they should laugh too much, they may be readily cured thereof by the lament of Jeremiah, the passion of the Saviour or the complaint of the Magdalene. And who shall question, but that yet others there are who will say that I have an evil tongue and venomous? Because here and there I tell the truth about the friars. Now for them that so say there is forgiveness. For that is not to be believed, but that they have just cause, seeing that the friars are good folk, and a shoe-hardship for the love of God, and grind intermittently, and never blab. And were they not all a trifle malodorous, in their course with them would be much more agreeable? Nevertheless I acknowledge that the things of this world have no stability, but are ever undergoing change, and this may have befallen my tongue, no great while ago one of my fair neighbours. For in what pertains to myself I trust not my own judgment, but forgo it to the best of my power. Told me it was the goodliest and sweetest tongue in the world, and ensues when this occurred few of the sad stories were yet to write. Nor for that those who so tax me do it despitefully, am I minded to watch save them any further answer. So then be every lady at liberty to say and believe whatever she may think fit. But this now time for me to bring these remarks to a close, with humble thanks to him, by whose help and guidance I, after so long travail, have been brought to the desired girl. And may you, sweet my ladies, rest ever in his grace and peace, and be not unmindful of me, if per adventure any of you may in any measure, have been profited by reading these stories.