Duo Che Insieme Vanno — Dante
In that collection of pleasant stories entitled “Count Lucanor,” whose composition enlivened the chivalric leisure of the Prince Don Juan Manuel, perhaps the pleasantest and certainly the quaintest, is that which tells how Don Alvar Fañez won his wife and how implicitly she obeyed him. The most noticeable feature in it, however, is the curious resemblance it bears to a scene in “The Taming of the Shrew,” as the reader will see from the following passages:
“Alvar Fañez was a very good man, and was much honored. He colonized the village of Ysca, where he resided, together with Count Pero Anzurez, who had with him three daughters.
One day Don Alvar Fañez paid an unexpected visit to the Count, who, nevertheless, expressed himself much gratified, and, after they had dined together, desired to be informed the cause of his unexpected visit. Don Alvar Fañez replied that he came to demand one of his daughters in marriage, and requested permission to see the three ladies, that he might speak to each of them separately, when he would select the one he should desire in marriage. Now the Count, feeling that God would bless that proposition, agreed to it.
Thereupon Don Alvar presents his case to the eldest daughter, premising that he is old, enfeebled by wounds, and with a bad habit of getting drunk and kicking up an awful row, which, however, he very sincerely regrets when he gets sober. The young lady, not greatly dazzled by this alluring prospect, refers him to her pa, to whom in the meantime she imparts with much fervor her resolution rather to die than marry the good Don. The same result occurs with the second daughter; when Vascuñana, the youngest of course, “thanking God very much that Don Alvar Fañez desired to marry her,” accepts him. Then Don Alvar in turn “thanks God very much that he had found a woman with such an understanding,” and after this mutual thanksgiving they get married and live happily, Vascuñana, as a good wife should, thoroughly believing in her husband, and letting him have his own way always. In this state of affairs, it happened one day when Don Alvar Fañez was at home, there came to visit him a nephew of his who was attached to the king’s household. After he had been in the house some days, he said to Don Alvar Fañez, “You are a good and accomplished man, but there is one fault I find with you.” His uncle desired to know what it was. To which the nephew replied, “It may be but a small fault, but it is this, you study your wife too much, and make her too great a mistress of you and your affairs.”
“As to that,” Don Alvar Fañez replied, “I will give you an answer in a few days.”
After this, Don Alvar Fañez made a journey on horseback to a distant part of the country, taking with him his nephew, where he remained some time, and then sent for his wife, Vascuñana, to meet him on the road as he returned. When they had journeyed some time without conversing, Don Alvar Fañez being in advance, they chanced to meet a large drove of cows, when Don Alvar said to his nephew, “See what famous mares we have in this country.”
The nephew, on hearing this, was surprised, and thought he said it in jest, and asked him how he could say so when they were but cows. At this his uncle feigned to be quite astonished, saying, “You are mistaken or have lost your wits, for they certainly are mares.” The nephew, seeing his uncle persist in what he had said, and that, too, with so much energy, became alarmed, and thought his uncle had lost his understanding. The dispute, however, continued in this manner until they met Doña Vascuñana, who was now seen on the road approaching them. No sooner did Don Alvar Fañez perceive his wife than he said to his nephew, “Here is my wife, Vascuñana, who will be able to settle our dispute.”
The nephew was glad of this opportunity, and no sooner did she meet them than he said, “Aunt, my uncle and I have a dispute. He says that those cows are mares; I say that they are cows. And we have so long contended this point, that he considers me as mad, while I think he is but little better. So we beg you will settle our dispute.”
Now, when Doña Vascuñana heard this, although they appeared to her to be cows, yet, as her husband had said to the contrary, and she knew that no one was better able than he to distinguish one from the other, and that he never erred, she, trusting entirely to his judgment, declared they were, beyond all doubt, mares, and not cows. “It grieves me much, nephew,” continued Vascuñana, “to hear you contest the point; and God knows, it is a great pity you have not better judgment, with all the advantages you have had in living in the king’s household, where you have been so long, than not to be able to distinguish mares from cows.” She then began to show how, both in their color and form, and in many other points, they were mares and not cows; and that what Don Alvar said was true. And so strongly did she affirm this that not only her nephew, but those who were with them, began to think they were themselves mistaken, until Don Alvar explains the reason and the nephew quaintly declares “himself much pleased” and acknowledges “that Don Alvar was not too considerate or loving.”
After this, Don Alvar Fañez and his nephew proceeded. They had not, however, journeyed long before they saw coming towards them a large drove of mares.
“Now, these,” said Don Alvar Fañez, “are cows, but those we have seen, which you call cows, were not so.”
When the nephew heard this, he exclaimed, “Uncle, for God’s sake! if what you say be true, the devil has brought me to this country; for certainly, if these are cows, then I have lost my senses, for in all parts of the world these are mares and not cows.” But Don Alvar persisted that he was right in saying they were cows and not mares. And thus they argued until Vascuñana came up to them, when they related to her all that had passed between them.
Now, although she thought her nephew right, yet, for the same reason as before, she said so much in support of her husband, and that, too, with such apparent truth and inward conviction, that the nephew and those with the mares began to think that their sight and judgment erred and that what Don Alvar had said was true; and so the debate ended.
Again Don Alvar and his nephew proceeded on their road homeward, and had proceeded at a considerable distance when they arrived at a river, on the banks of which were a number of mills. While their horses were drinking, Don Alvar remarked that river ran in the direction from which it flowed, and that the mills received their water from a contrary point. When the nephew heard this he thought to a certainty he himself had lost his senses, for, as he appeared to be wrong with respect to the mares and cows, so might he be in error here also, and the river might really run toward and not from its source. Nevertheless, he contended the point. When Vascuñana, on her arrival, found them again warmly disputing, she begged to know the cause. They then informed her; when, although, as before, it appeared to her that the nephew was right, yet she could not be persuaded that her husband was wrong, and so again supported his opinion; and this time with so many good arguments, that the nephew and those present felt that they must have been in error. And it remains a proverb to this day that, “If the husband affirms that the river runs up to its source, the good wife ought to believe it and say that it is true.”
Now, when the nephew heard all this, supposing that Don Alvar Fañez must be right, he began to feel very unhappy and to suspect that he was losing his senses, etc., etc.
Compare with this story “The Taming of the Shrew,” act iv., scene 5, A Public Road.
Enter Petruchio, Katharine, and Hortensio.
Pet. Come on, o’ God’s name; once more toward our father’s.
Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon!
Kath. The moon! the sun; it is not moonlight now.
Pet. I say it is the moon that shines so bright.
Kath. I know it is the sun that shines so bright.
Pet. No, by my mother’s son, and that’s myself,
It shall be moon, or star, or what I list,
Or ere I journey to your father’s house:...
Hor. Say as he says or we shall never go.
Kath. Forward, I pray, since we have come so far,
And be it moon, or sun, or what you please;
And if you please to call it a rush candle,
Henceforth, I vow it shall be so to me.
Pet. I say, it is the moon.
Kath. I know it is the moon.
Pet. Nay, then you lie; it is the blessed sun.
Kath. Then God be bless’d, it is the blessed sun.
But sun it is not, when you say it is not;
And the moon changes even as your mind.
What you will have it named, even that it is;
And so it shall be so, for Katharine.
Enter Vincentio, in a travelling dress
Pet. (to Vincentio). Good morrow, gentle mistress; where away?
Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too,
Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman?...
Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee;
Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty’s sake.
Hor. ‘A will make the man mad, to make a woman of him.
Kath. Young budding virgin, fair and fresh, and sweet,
Whither away; or where is thy abode?
Happy the parents of so fair a child;
Happier the man, whom favorable stars
Allot thee for his lovely bedfellow!
Pet. Why, how now, Kate? I hope thou art not mad:
This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither’d;
and not a maiden as thou say’st he is.
Kath. Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes,
That have been so bedazzled by the sun,
That everything I look on seemeth green;
Now, I perceive, thou art a reverend father....
The resemblance between the English dramatist and the Spanish story-teller is certainly odd, the more so because there is hardly any possibility that either was indebted to the other. Shakespeare’s play was first printed in 1664, and founded on an older play at that, “The Taming of ‘a’ Shrew,” while El “Conde Lucanor,” written in the fourteenth century, was not published till near the close of the sixteenth, in the folio of Seville, 1575. Both writers seem to have drawn their materials from a common stock. Indeed, the story in one form or other was probably in vogue through all the languages of Europe.