Il Novellino: The hundred old tales

In Short

Il Novellino is the earliest major collection of Italian short stories, a foundational work that predates the Decameron and reflects the transitional spirit of the duecento. It gathers one hundred brief accounts ranging from Biblical anecdotes and classical history to Arthurian romance and local Florentine mischief. The book has endured not as a cohesive novel, but as a lively archive of the medieval mind—its superstitions, its delight in the clever retort, and its fascination with the high-stakes theater of royal courts and common life.

The Story

The narrative landscape of the collection is vast, spanning from the dawn of time to the bustling streets of 13th-century Italy. It opens with the grand, often mythologized figures of antiquity: Prester John sends embassies to Emperor Frederick; Alexander the Great encounters wise Greeks and cynical jongleurs; and King David grapples with the weight of divine judgment. These early tales establish a tone of formal, almost legendary distance, where kings are defined by their liberality and scholars by their ability to provide a clever answer to a life-or-death question.

As the collection progresses, the tone shifts from the cosmic to the human. We witness the rise and fall of great dynasties through intimate, often tragic domestic vignettes. The story of the "Young King" stands as a centerpiece, documenting a son’s rebellion against his father, his reckless generosity, and his ultimate, sorrowful death, which leaves his creditors holding the spiritual weight of his soul. These tales are not merely historical; they are exercises in character. A land steward plucks out his own eye to satisfy a rigorous demand for justice; a Saracen cook in Alexandria finds himself at the center of a philosophical dispute over the value of steam, leading to a judgment so perfectly bizarre it satisfies both parties.

Interspersed with these are the romantic cycles that defined medieval culture. We encounter the tragic grace of the Lady of Shalott, who drifts to Camelot in a boat to die for her love of Lancelot, and the clandestine signals of Tristan and Iseult, whose garden fountain becomes the site of both their betrayal and their discovery by a suspicious king. These stories are stripped of excess, told with a stark, rhythmic simplicity that focuses entirely on the gesture—a look, a word, or a death.

The collection concludes by descending into the rougher, more satirical reality of daily life. The grand gestures of kings give way to the petty schemes of peasants, friars, and tradesmen. A countryman tries to outsmart a priest, a fox teaches a wolf a fatal lesson about literacy, and a shopkeeper exacts a brutal revenge on a peasant for a failed negotiation. The book ends not with a grand summation, but with the same fragmented, observant energy that defined its start, leaving the reader with the impression of having walked through a bustling marketplace where kings and fools stand side by side.

How It Unfolds

The world of antiquity The collection begins with stories of emperors and wise men, establishing a standard for human behavior based on dignity and quick-witted speech. These tales frame intelligence as the ultimate virtue, regardless of whether the protagonist is a prisoner or a monarch.

The weight of the crown The focus shifts to the responsibilities and failures of nobility, exploring how wealth is distributed—or wasted—by those in power. Through the rise and fall of the Young King and the trials of the Emperor Frederick, the stories examine the fragile relationship between a ruler's generosity and his political survival.

The cycle of romance The middle section pivots to the Arthurian tradition, emphasizing themes of courtly love, obsession, and the dramatic, symbolic death of knights and ladies. These narratives act as a bridge between the high moral tone of the earlier tales and the earthy, ironic humor that follows.

The common life The concluding beats move into the streets and fields, focusing on the sharp elbows of survival in a society governed by both law and trickery. These final stories replace the grand, sweeping gestures of knights with the cynical, clever, and often cruel retorts of the common person.

The People

The figures of this book are less like psychological portraits and more like archetypes carved in high relief. Alexander the Great appears as the ultimate arbiter of greatness, a man whose presence demands either profound wisdom or total submission from those around him. In contrast, Emperor Frederick is the quintessential "man of the Court," a sovereign who prizes talent and wit above all else, often testing the scholars and necromancers who flock to him to prove their worth.

The Young King serves as the most tragic figure, representing the intersection of chivalric excess and political ruin; his desire to be "liberal" leads him to squander his father’s resources, ultimately costing him his life and leaving his creditors to navigate the bizarre legal loophole of his soul. Tristan and Iseult inhabit the romantic sphere, their movements defined by the secret, wordless communications of their love, which serve as a stark reminder that even the most powerful kings cannot police the human heart. Finally, the collection is populated by anonymous figures—the Saracen cook, the countryman, and the clever friar—who provide a necessary, grounding contrast to the nobility, proving that wisdom is not the exclusive property of those in robes or crowns.

In Its Own Voice

The Greek made answer: Sire, when I told you about the courser which was a marvellous thing, you ordered me the gift of half a loaf of bread a day, and when I spoke to you of the stone you gave me a whole loaf.

A captive Greek points out the king’s meanness by comparing the value of the king's gifts to his own wisdom.

The fox went off saying: not everyone who can read is wise.

A fox concludes a lesson in mortality after watching a mule kill a wolf who was too arrogant to see a trap.

Alas! errant world and ignorant and discourteous people, how much greater was Our Lord who made the heaven and earth, than Lancelot who was made a knight and changed and upset so great a usance in the kingdom of France.

The narrator laments the moral inversion of a world that elevates a knight’s romantic madness above the divine example of Christ.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an inquiry into the nature of social and moral excellence. It asks what constitutes a "noble" life in a world dominated by power, religion, and the shifting fortunes of fortune itself. The recurring emphasis on "fine replies" and "valiant actions" suggests an argument for wit as a necessary survival mechanism—a way to navigate a world that is often arbitrary or cruel. The book probes the tension between the ideal, as seen in Arthurian legend or Biblical parable, and the reality of human greed and folly. It suggests that while we may strive for the honor of a knight or the wisdom of a king, we are all ultimately subject to the same rain that falls on the fool in the ditch.

Why Read It Today

Reading this collection feels like peering through a cracked window into the 13th century. It is a world of stark contrasts: pious one moment, biting and irreverent the next. Those who enjoy the crisp, observational style of early literature will find much to admire here, as there is no wasted motion in these tales. The book is perfectly suited for those who appreciate short-form storytelling; it is a collection meant for dipping into, not necessarily for reading in a single, breathless sitting.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for the book’s inherent distance. The geography is often wildly inaccurate, the history is mythical, and the moral framework—while fascinating—is firmly rooted in a period that prioritized social hierarchy and religious authority. Some of the logic in the disputes and judgments may strike a contemporary reader as nonsensical or, in the case of the more cynical tales, surprisingly harsh. Yet, this is exactly why it remains valuable. It does not try to explain itself to a modern audience; it remains stubbornly, beautifully of its own time. It stays with you because it captures the fundamental human impulse to make sense of our surroundings through the shorthand of a story, a habit that has not changed in seven hundred years.