Ingratitude is a nail, which, driven into the tree of courtesy, causes it to wither. It is a broken channel by which the foundations of affection are undermined; and a lump of soot, which, falling into the dish of friendship, destroys its scent and savour--as is seen in daily instances, and, amongst others, in the story which I will now tell you.
THERE was one time in my dear
city of Naples an old man who was as poor as poor could be. He was
so wretched, so bare, so light, and with not a farthing in his pocket,
that he went naked as a flea. And being about to shake out the bags
of life, he called to him his sons, Oratiello and Pippo, and said
to them, "I am now called upon by the tenor of my bill to pay
the debt I owe to Nature. Believe me, I should feel great pleasure
in quitting this abode of misery, this den of woes, but that I leave
you here behind me--a pair of miserable fellows, as big as a church,
without a stitch upon your backs, as clean as a barber's basin, as
nimble as a serjeant, as dry as a plum-stone, without so much as a
fly can carry upon its foot; so that, were you to run a hundred miles,
not a farthing would drop from you. My ill-fortune has indeed brought
me to such beggary that I lead the life of a dog, for I have all along,
as well you know, gaped with hunger and gone to bed without a candle.
Nevertheless, now that I am a-dying, I wish to leave you some token
of my love. So do you, Oratiello, who are my first-born, take the
Oratiello had his father buried by charity;
and then took the sieve and went riddling here, there, and everywhere
to gain a livelihood; and the more he riddled, the more he earned.
But Pippo, taking the cat, said, "Only see now what a pretty
legacy my father has left me! I, who am not able to support myself,
must now provide for two. Whoever beheld so miserable an inheritance?"
Then the cat, who overheard this lamentation, said to him, "You
are grieving without need, and have more luck than sense. You little
know the good fortune in store for you; and that I am able to make
you rich if I set about it." When Pippo had heard this, he thanked
Her Pussyship, stroked her three or four times on the back, and
Again, the cat would run to the marshes or the fields, and when the fowlers had brought down a blackbird, a snipe, or a lark, she caught it up and presented it to the King with the same message. She repeated this trick again and again, until one morning the King said to her, "I feel infinitely obliged to this Lord Pippo, and am desirous of knowing him, that I may make a return for the kindness he has shown me." And the cat replied, "The desire of my Lord Pippo is to give his life for your Majesty's crown; and tomorrow morning, without fail, as soon as the Sun has set fire to the stubble of the fields of air, he will come and pay his respects to you."
So when the morning came, the cat went to the King, and said to him: "Sire, my Lord Pippo sends to excuse himself for not coming, as last night some of his servants robbed him and ran off, and have not left him a single shirt to his back." When the King heard this, he instantly commanded his retainers to take out of his own wardrobe a quantity of clothes and linen, and sent them to Pippo; and, before two hours had passed, Pippo went to the palace, conducted by the cat, where he received a thousand compliments from the King, who made him sit beside himself, and gave him a banquet that would amaze you.
While they were eating, Pippo from time
to time turned to the cat and said to her, "My pretty puss, pray
take care that those rags don't slip through our fingers." Then
the cat answered, "Be quiet, be quiet; don't be talking of these
beggarly things." The King, wishing to know the subject of their
talk, the cat made answer that Pippo had taken a fancy to a small
lemon; whereupon the King instantly sent out to the garden for a basketful.
But Pippo returned to the same tune about the old coats and shirts,
and the cat again told him to hold his tongue. Then the King once
more asked what was the matter, and the cat had another excuse to
make amends for
At last, when they had eaten and conversed
for some time about one thing and another, Pippo took his leave; and
the cat stayed with the King, describing the worth, the wisdom, and
the judgment of Pippo; and, above all, the great wealth he had in
the plains of Rome and Lombardy, which well entitled him to marry
even into the family of a crowned King. Then the King asked what might
be his fortune; and the cat replied that no one could ever count the
moveables, the fixtures, and the household furniture of this rich
man, who did not even know what he possessed. If the King wished to
be informed of it, he had only to send messengers with the cat, and
she would prove to him that there was no wealth in the
Then the King called some trusty persons, and commanded them to inform themselves minutely of the truth; so they followed in the footsteps of the cat, who, as soon as they had passed the frontier of the kingdom, from time to time ran on before, under the pretext of providing refreshments for them on the road. Whenever she met a flock of sheep, a herd of cows, a troop of horses, or a drove of pigs, she would say to the herdsmen and keepers, "Ho! have a care! A troop of robbers is coming to carry off everything in the country. So if you wish to escape their fury, and to have your things respected, say that they all belong to the Lord Pippo, and not a hair will be touched."
She said the same at all the farmhouses, so that wherever the King's people came they found the pipe tuned; for everything they met with, they were told, belonged to the Lord Pippo. At last they were tired of asking, and returned to the King, telling seas and mountains of the riches of Lord Pippo. The King, hearing this report, promised the cat a good drink if she should manage to bring about the match; and the cat, playing the shuttle between them, at last concluded the marriage. So Pippo came, and the King gave him his daughter and a large portion.
At the end of a month of festivities, Pippo wished to take his bride to his estates, so the King accompanied them as far as the frontiers; and he went on to Lombardy, where, by the cat's advice, he purchased a large estate and became a baron.
Pippo, seeing himself now so rich, thanked the cat more than words can express, saying that he owed his life and his greatness to her good offices; and that the ingenuity of a cat had done more for him that the wit of his father. Therefore, said he, she might dispose of his life and his property as she pleased; and he gave her his word that when she died, which he prayed might not be for a hundred years, he would have her embalmed and put into a golden coffin, and set in his own chamber, that he might keep her memory always before his eyes.
The cat listened to these lavish professions; and before three days she pretended to be dead, and stretched herself at full length in the garden. When Pippo's wife saw her, she cried out, "Oh, husband, what a sad misfortune! The cat is dead!" "Devil die with her!" said Pippo. "Better her than we!" "What shall we do with her?" replied the wife. "Take her by the leg," said he, "and fling her out of the window!"
Then the cat, who heard this fine reward when she least expected it, began to say, "Is this the return you make for my taking you from beggary? Are these the thanks I get for freeing you from rags that you might have hung distaffs with? Is this my reward for having put good clothes on your back when you were a poor, starved, miserable, tatter-shod ragamuffin? But such is the fate of him who washes an ass's head! Go! A curse upon all I have done for you! A fine gold coffin you had prepared for me! A fine funeral you were going to give me! Go, now! serve, labour, toil, sweat to get this fine reward! Unhappy is he who does a good deed in hope of a return. Well was it said by the philosopher, He who lies down an ass, an ass he finds himself.' But let him who does most, expect least; smooth words and ill deeds deceive alike both fools and wise!"
So saying, she drew her cloak about her and went her way. All that Pippo, with the utmost humility, could do to soothe her was of no avail. She would not return; but ran on and on without ever turning her head about, saying--
"Heaven keep me from the rich
The next story in Il Pentamerone is The Serpent.
These tales came from:
Basile, Giambattista. Stories from the Pentamerone. E. F. Strange, editor. Warwick Goble, illustrator. London: Macmillan & Co., 1911. The text of this book is based on John Edward Taylor's translation from 1847.