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Decameron came to visit us and suggested that Andrew write a book of country poems, the man became simply unbearable. And all the time I was counting eggs and turning out three meals a day, and running the farm when Andrew got a literary fit and would go off on some vagabond jaunt to collect adventures for a new book. And that's my story.
I know you by repute, and if I am not mistaken you are a relation of Calsabigi, who has spoken of you to me. I have read some of your satires." "May I ask to whom I have the honour of speaking?" "My name is Seingalt. Have you finished your edition of the Decameron?" "I am still at work on it, and trying to increase the number of my subscribers."
The unity in some forms of art is tighter than in others; in a play closer than in a novel; in a sonnet more compact than in an epic. In extreme examples, like The Thousand and One Nights, the Decameron, the Canterbury Tales, the unity is almost wholly nominal, and the work is really a collection, not a whole.
Only by his instinctive feeling that the technique, which Boccaccio had applied in the Decameron, belonged by right to the realm of poetry, had been learned in the practising of the poetic art, and could arrive at its highest level of achievement only in that medium.
He had perused the numerous romantic poems, which, from the days of Pulci, have been a favourite exercise of the wits of Italy, and had sought gratification in the numerous collections of novelle, which were brought forth by the genius of that elegant though luxurious nation, in emulation of the 'Decameron. In classical literature, Waverley had made the usual progress, and read the usual authors; and the French had afforded him an almost exhaustless collection of memoirs, scarcely more faithful than romances, and of romances so well written as hardly to be distinguished from memoirs.
The monk did not understand where he was, but thought he was in the hell of the heathen; but it was still worse when a priest disguised as Bacchus, his face smeared with dregs of wine, entered the pulpit, and, taking a text from Boccaccio's Decameron, preached an indecent discourse, presently, with a skilful turn, going on to narrate a legend about St. Peter.
The great churches of Florence A Dominican cathedral The "Decameron" begins Domenico Ghirlandaio Alessio Baldovinetti The Louvre The S. Maria Novella frescoes Giovanni and Lorenzo Tornabuoni Ruskin implacable Cimabue's Madonna Filippino Lippi Orcagna's "Last Judgment" The Cloisters of Florence The Spanish Chapel S. Dominic triumphant Giotto at his sweetest The "Wanderer's" doom The Piazza, as an arena.
But the commentator is indebted to Livy for little more than a few texts which he might as easily have extracted from the Vulgate or the Decameron. The whole train of thought is original. On the peculiar immorality which has rendered The Prince unpopular, and which is almost equally discernible in the Discourses, we have already given our opinion at length.
A graceful idyll in the same metre, Ninfale Fiesolano, was written later, probably at Naples in 1345. King Robert was then dead, but Boccaccio enjoyed the favour of Queen Joan, of somewhat doubtful memory, at whose instance he hints in one of his later letters that he wrote the Decameron.
A scene from the 'Decameron, modernised, would give some idea of it; for after the banquet all adjourned to the gardens of the Doria Villa, and there disported themselves as merrily as if all the plagues of life were quite forgotten, and death itself among the lost arts.
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