The She-Bear – Giambattista Basile

Note: Most translations of the Pentamerone have been heavily edited, and in some cases censored, to bring the stories into line with modern tastes. This is a faithful reproduction of Richard F. Burton’s (purported) unexpurgated 1893 translation. As such, it contains some old-fashioned English words and expressions (e.g. The king waxed wroth…) that less experienced readers may find confusing.

Now it is said that once upon a time there lived a king of Rocc’ Aspra, who had a wife who for beauty, and grace, and comeliness exceeded all other women. Truly she was the mother of beauty, but this beauteous being, at the full time of her life, fell from the steed of health, and brake the threads of life. But before the candle of life was finally put out, she called her husband, and said, ‘I know well, that thou hast loved me with excessive love, therefore show unto me a proof of thy love and give me a promise that thou wilt never marry, unless thou meetest one beauteous as I have been; and if thou wilt not do so, I will leave thce a curse, and I will hate thee even in the other world.’ The king, who loved her above all things, hearing this her last will, began to weep and lament, and for a while could not find a word to say: but after his grief subdued, he replied, ‘If I ever think of taking a wife, may the gout seize me, and may I become as gaunt as an asparagus; O my love, forget it, believe not in dreams, or that I can ever put my affection upon another woman. Thou wilt take with thee all my joyance and desire.’ And whilst he spake thus, the poor lady, who was at her last, turned up her eyes and stretched her feet.

When the king saw that her soul had taken flight, his eyes became fountains of tears, and he cried with loud cries, and buffeted his face, and wept, and wailed, so that all the courtiers ran to his side, and he continually called upon the name of that good soul, and cursed his fate, which had deprived him of her, and tore his hair, and pulled out his beard, and accused the stars of having sent to him this great misfortune. But he did as others do; pain of elbow and of wife acheth much but doth not last. Two, one in the grave, and other on the knee. Night had not yet come forth in the place of heaven to look about her for the bats, when he began to make counts with his fingers, saying ‘My wife is dead, and I am a widower, and sad-hearted without hope of any kind but my only daughter, since she left me. Therefore it will be necessary to find another wife that will bear me a son. But where can I find one? Where can I meet a woman dowered with my wife’s beauty, when all other damsels seem witches in my sight? There is the rub! Where shall I find another like unto her? where am I to seek her with the bell, if nature moulded Nardella (whose soul rest in glory), and then brake the mould? Alas! in what labyrinth am I! was the promise I made her! But what? I have not seen the wolf yet, and am going to fly: let us seek, let us see, and let us understand. Is it possible, that no other she-ass will be found to stable in Nardella’s place? Is it possible that the world will be lost for me? Will there be such a misfortune, that no damsel will shoot, or will the seed be lost?’ And thus saying, he commanded the public crier to publish a ban that all the beautiful women in the world should come and undergo the comparison of beauty, that he would take to wife the handsomest of all, and make her a queen of his realm. And these news spread in all parts of the world, and not one of the women in the whole universe failed to come and try this venture, and not even flayed hags stayed behind, they came by the dozen, because, when the point of beauty is touched, there is none who will yield, there is no sea-monster who will give herself up as hideous; each and every boasteth of uncommon beauty; and if an ass speaketh the truth, the mirror is blamed, which reflecteth not the form as it is naturally; ’tis the fault of the quicksilver at the back. And now the land was full of women, and the king ordered that they should all stand in file, and he began to walk up and down, like a sultan when he entereth his harem to choose the best Genoa stone to sharpen his blade damascene. He came and went, up and down, like a monkey who is never still, looking and staring at this one and that one. And one had a crooked brow, another had a long nose, one had a large mouth, and another had thick lips, this one was too tall and gaunt, that other was short and badly formed, this one was too much dressed, another was too slightly robed; the Spaniard pleased him not because of the hue of her skin; the Neapolitan was not to his taste because of the way in which she walked; the German seemed to him too cold and frozen; the French woman too light of brains; the Venetian a spinning-wheel full of flax; and at the last, for one reason and for another, he sent them all about their business with one hand in front and another behind. And seeing so many beautiful heads of celery turned to hard roots, having resolved to have his will, he turned to his own daughter, saying, ‘What am I seeking about these Marys of Ravenna, if my daughter Preziosa is made of the same mould like unto her mother? I have this beauteous face at home, and shall I go to the end of the world seeking it?’ And he explained to his daughter his desire, and was severely reproved and censured by her, as Heaven knoweth. The king waxed wroth at her censure, and said to her, ‘Speak not so loud, and put thy tongue behind thee, and make up thy mind this evening to be tied in this matrimonial knot, otherwise the least thing that I will do to thee is that I will have thine ears cut off.’ Preziosa, hearing this resolve, retired within her chamber, and wept and lamented her evil fate. And whilst she lay in this plight with such a sorrowful face, an old woman, who used to bring her unguents, and pomade, and cosmetics, and salve to anoint herself, came to her, and finding her in such a plight, looking like one more ready for the other world than for this, enquired the cause of her distress, and when the old woman mastered it, she said, ‘Be of good cheer, O my daughter, and despair not, as every evil hath a remedy: death alone hath no cure. Now hearken to me: when thy sire this evening cometh in to thee, and being an ass, would like to act the stallion, put thou this piece of wood in thy mouth, when at once thou wilt become a shebear and then thou canst fly; as he being afraid of thee will let thee go. And fare thou straight to the forest, where ’twas written in the book of fate, the day that thou wert born, that thou shouldst meet thy fortune: and when ’tis thy desire to appear a woman as thou art and wilt ever be, take out of thy mouth the bit of wood, and thou wilt return to thy pristine form.’ Preziosa embraced and thanked the old woman, and bidding the servants give her an apron-full of flour and some slices of ham, sent her away. And the sun beginning to change his quarters like a bankrupt strumpet, the king sent for his minister, and bade him issue invitations to all the lords and grandees to come to the marriage-feast. And they all crowded thither. And after spending five or six hours in high revel, and eating out of measure, the king made his way to the bedchamber, and called to the bride to come and fulfil his desire. But instantly putting the bit of wood in her mouth, she took the shape of a she-bear, terrible of aspect, and stood before him. And he, frightened at the sudden change, rolled himself up amongst the mattresses, and did not put forth a finger or an eye until the morning.

Meanwhile Preziosa came forth and fared towards the forest, where the shadows met concocting together how they could annoy the sun, and there she lay in unison and in good fellowship with the other animals. When the day dawned, it was decreed by the Decreer that there should come to that forest the son of the King of Acqua-corrente, and he, sighting the she-bear, was frightened with excessive fear; but the beast came forward, and wagging her tail, walked round him, and put her head under his hand for him to caress her. At this sight, which seemed passing strange to him, he heartened his heart, smoothed its head as he would have done to a dog, and said to it, ‘Lie down, down, quiet, quiet, ti ti, good beast;’ and seeing the beast was very tame, he took her home with him, commanding his servants to put her in the garden by the side of the royal palace, and there to attend to and feed her well, and treat her as they would his own person, and to take her to such a spot that he might see her from the windows of his palace whenever he had a mind to.

Now it so chanced, one day of the days, that all his people had gone forth on some errand, and the prince being left alone, bethought himself of the bear, and looked out of the window to see her, and at that very moment Preziosa, believing she was utterly alone, had taken out the bit of wood from her mouth, and stood combing her golden hair. The prince, beholding this damsel of passing beauty, marvelled with excessive marvel, and descending the stairs, ran to the garden. But Preziosa, perceiving the ambush, at once put the bit of wood in her mouth, and became a shebear once more. The prince looked about him, and could not discern what he had seen from above, and not finding what he came to seek, remained sorely disappointed, and was melancholy and sad-hearted, and in a few days was taken with grievous sickness. And he kept repeating, ‘O my bear, O my bear.’ His mother, hearing this continual cry, imagined that perhaps the bear had bit him or done him some evil, and therefore ordered the servants to slay her. But all the servants loved the beast because it was so very tame, even the stones in the roadway could not help liking her, and they had compassion of and could not endure to slay her: therefore they led her to the forest, and returning to the queen, told her that she was dead. When this deed came to the prince’s ear, he acted as a madman, and leaving his bed, ill as he was, was about to make mincemeat of the servants; but when they told him the truth of the affair, he mounted his steed, and searched, and turned backward and forwards till at length he came to a cave and found the bear. Then he took her, and carried her home with him, and putting her in a chamber, said, ‘O thou beauteous morsel fit for kings, why dost thou hide thy passing beauty in a bear’s hide? O light of love, why art thou closed in such an hairy lantern? Why hast thou acted thus toward me, is it so that thou mayest see me die a slow death? I am dying of despair, charmed by thy beauteous form, and thou canst see the witness of my words in my failing health and sickening form. I am become skin and bone, and the fever burneth my very marrows, and consumeth me with heart-sore pain: therefore lift thou the veil of that stinking hide, and let me behold once more thy grace and beauty; lift up the leaves from this basket’s mouth, and let me take a view of the splendid fruit within; lift thou the tapestry, and allow mine eyes to feast upon the luxury of thy charms. Who hath enclosed in a dreary prison such a glorious work? Who hath enclosed in a leathern casket such a priceless treasure? Let me behold thy passing grace, and take thou in payment all my desires; O my love, only this bear’s grease can cure the nervous disease of which I suffer.’ But perceiving that his words had no effect, and that all was time lost, he took to his bed, and his illness daily increased, till the doctors despaired of his life. The queen his mother, who had no other love in the world, seated herself at the bedside, and said to him, ‘O my son, wherefrom cometh all thy heart-sickness? What is the cause of all this sadness? Thou art young, thou art rich, thou art beloved, thou art great; what dost thou want, O my son? speak, for only a shameful beggar carrieth an empty pocket. Dost thou desire to take a wife, choose thou, and I will bid; take thou, and I will pay; canst thou not see that thy sickness is my sickness? that thy pulse beats in unison with my heart? if thou burnest with fever in thy blood, I burn with fever on the brain. I have no other support for my old age but thou. Therefore, O my son, be cheerful, and cheer my heart, and do not darken this realm, and raze to the ground this house, and bereave thy mother.’ The prince hearing these words, said, ‘Nothing can cheer me, if I may not see the bear; therefore, an thou desirest to see me in good health again, let her stay in this room, and I do not wish that any other serve me, and make my bed, and cook my meals, if it be not herself, and if what I desire be done, I am sure that I shall be well in a few days.’ To the queen it seemed folly for her son to ask that a bear should act as cook and housemaid, and she believed that the prince must be delirious; nevertheless, to please his fancy, she sent for the bear, and when the beast came to the prince’s bedside she lifted her paw and felt the invalid’s pulse, and the queen smiled at the sight, thinking that by and by the bear would scratch the prince’s nose. But the prince spake to the bear, and said, ‘O mischievous mine, wilt thou not cook for me, and feed me, and serve me?’ And the bear signed yes with her head, showing that she would accept the charge. Then the queen sent for some chickens, and had a fire lit in the fireplace in the same chamber, and had a kettle with boiling water put on the fire. The bear, taking hold of a chicken and scalding it, dexterously plucked off its feathers, and cleaning it, put half of it on the spit, and stewed the other half, and when it was ready, the prince, who could not before eat even sugar, ate it all and licked his fingers. When he had ended his meal, the bear brought him some drink, and handed it so gracefully that the queen kissed her on the head. After this the prince arose, and went to the saloon to receive the doctors, and stood under the touch-stone of their judgment. And the bear at once made the bed, and ran to the garden and gathered a handful of roses and orange-blossoms, and came and strewed them upon it, and she delivered herself so well of her divers duties that the queen said in her mind, ‘This bear is worth a treasure, and my son is quite right in being fond of the beast.’ And when the prince returned to his chamber, seeing how well the bear had acquitted herself of her duties, it seemed like adding fuel to the fire, and if he consumed himself in a slow fire before, he burned with intense heat now; and he said to the queen, ‘O my lady mother, if I give not a kiss to this bear, I shall give up the ghost.’ The queen, seeing her son nearly fainting, said to the bear, ‘Kiss him, kiss him, O my beauteous bear, leave not this poor my son to die in despair.’ Then the bear obediently neared the prince, who taking her cheeks between his fingers, could not leave off kissing her on the lips. Whilst thus engaged, I know not how, the bit of wood fell from Preziosa’s mouth, and she remained in the prince’s embrace, the most beauteous and ravishing being in the world; and he strained her to his bosom with tightly clasped arms, and said, ‘Thou art caught at last, and thou shalt not escape so easily without a reason.’ Preziosa, reddening with the lovely tint of modesty and of shame, the most beautiful of natural beauties, answered, ‘I am in thine hands, I recommend to thy loyalty mine honour, and do otherwise as thou wilt.’ And the queen enquired who was this charming damsel, and what had caused her to live such a wild life; and she related to them all her misfortunes, and the queen praised her as a good and honoured child, and said to her son that she was well satisfied that he should marry the princess. And the prince, who desired for naught else, plighted his troth at once to her, and both kneeling before the queen received her blessing, and with great feasting the marriage took place: and Preziosa thus measured the truth of human judgment that:

‘He who doeth good may good expect.’