The Pot of Basil

by Giovanni Boccaccio

There lived in Messina three young men, who were brothers and merchants. They became very rich when their father died. They had a sister, Lisabetta by name, a pretty girl, and high-spirited, but for some reason or another, not yet married.

The three brothers had also in their shop a young lad, Lorenzo by name, who managed all their affairs. He was so handsome and pleasure-loving that Lisabetta often secretly looked at him, and began to fall in love with him. Lorenzo noted her behavior. He decided to give up all of his other love affairs and became keenly interested in her. And so, their loves being equal, it was not long before they did that which each most desired.

Unfortunately they did not keep their affair a secret. One night as Lisabetta was going to Lorenzo's room, she was seen by her oldest brother.

The next day he told his brothers about Lisabetta and Lorenzo. Lorenzo, they knew, was a womanizer, and so were that one day afraid that either they or their sister would be shamed. They were determined, at a time which would be safe and convenient for them, to get rid of this disgrace before it could go further.

After a while, the three brothers pretended to go on a trip to the city for pleasure, and they took Lorenzo with them. The four of them came to a remote and very lonely spot. It was here that the brothers killed Lorenzo and buried him where no one would find him.

On their return to Messina they explained that Lorenzo had been sent him away on business. This was easily believed, since the brother used to do this frequently. But when Lorenzo did not return, Lisabetta began questioned the brothers about him with great frequency and urgency. Finally, one of the brothers said to her, "What do you mean by all this questioning? Why should you be so concerned about Lorenzo? Don't bother us anymore with these questions, or we will give you such answers that you will not want to hear. So the girl, sick at heart and depressed, fearing she knew not what, asked no more questions. She was totally dejected.

One night, after much weeping, Lisabetta at last fell asleep. Suddenly Lorenzo appeared to her in a dream, He was pale, his clothes dirty and torn to shreds; and, she thought, he spoke to her:

"Lisabetta, return to you I may not, because on the last day that you saw me, on that day your brothers murdered me." He described the place where they had buried him, told her to expect him no more, and vanished. The girl then awoke, and believing that the dream was true, wept bitterly.

When morning came, she was determined to go to the place indicated in the dream, and see if what she had dreamed was actually true. So, having received permission from her family to go a little way outside the city for recreation in company with a maid, she went to the place. She began to dig where the earth seemed least hard. Before long she found Lorenzo's body, and recognized it because it had not yet started to decay. This saddest of women, knowing that she could not carry it back to the city for an honorable burial, took a knife, and, as best she could, cut off the head and wrapped it in a napkin and laid it in the lap of her maid.

At home she shut herself up in her room with the head, and kissed it a thousand times, and wept long and bitterly over it. She then wrapped it in a piece of fine cloth, and set it in a large and beautiful pot, or vase, covered it with earth, and in the pot planted some basil. And it was her habit to sit beside this pot for hour after hour, and then she would bend over it, and weep a long time.

The basil grew with great beauty and a wonderful fragrance. And the brothers, noting her behavior with the basil, took the pot from her. They were determined to see what the pot might contain. Removing the soil, they saw the cloth, and the partly decayed head wrapped in it. When they saw the skull's curly hair, they knew it was Lorenzo's head. Afraid that they would be discovered as the murderers, they buried the head, and quickly left Messina for Naples.

Lisabetta now wept continually and, so weeping, died. Such was the end of her disastrous love; but the truth became known eventually. One person compose the song that is still sung to this day, namely:

A thief he was, I swear,

A sorry Christian he,

That took my pot basil fair, etc.