Chapter 1 begins by exploring Boccaccio’s debt to Aesopic fables, which were widely used in teaching Latin grammar. In the medieval educational system, ancient literature was frequently justified by the claim that the texts inculcated students with moral virtue, and the fables were presented as normative in both the linguistic and ethical spheres. Boccaccio recombines and reassembles their narrative details and plotlines, denaturalizing the apparent inevitability of the inherited outcomes and lessons. The Decameron also draws on the enormous patrimony of Middle-Eastern narrative materials that penetrated the West around the time of the Crusades. The chapter’s later sections investigate two didactic collections of Islamicate origin that circulated widely: the Book of the Seven Sages of Rome and the Disciplina Clericalis. Boccaccio borrows most extensively from the antifeminist tradition they embody in the novelle of Day 7, dedicated to the tricks that women play on their husbands. He rewrites a number of traditional anecdotes, undercutting their misogyny by allowing us to sympathize with the female protagonists and transforming the tales into celebrations of feminine ingenuity.

Chapter 4 charts the Decameron’s rewritings of exemplary anecdotes by Roman historical authors. The young Boccaccio has been associated with Trecento vernacularizations of Livy, Ovid, and Valerius Maximus, and his early engagement with translation and his commitment to Italian literary culture are indisputable. This chapter investigates how novella 2.9’s revision of the episode of Lucretia’s suicide in Livy participates in larger debates about the nature of women and the usefulness of generalizations. It also examines Decameron 4.1 – which takes its details from the suicide of Sophonisba – to argue that in killing herself like her classical forerunners, Ghismunda attributes a closer analogy between her situation and theirs than is warranted. The end of the chapter concentrates on Day 10, dedicated to the virtue of magnanimity, especially tales 10.3, 10.6, and 10.8, which echo exempla from Valerius Maximus’ Memorable Doings and Sayings. Although all of this day’s stories seem straightforward narratives of magnificent deeds worthy of imitation, the tales slide inadvertently into ambiguity and parody, belying their ethical pretensions.

Chapter 4 examines the relationship between Giovanni Amendola and Nelia Pavlova, born 1895. This complex love story has been all but entirely ignored by Italian scholarship on Giovanni and in the national memory. Apparently, the couple had a son who died of meningitis at the age of six in 1929. In Giovanni’s papers there is evidence of the love affair but no acknowledgement of the child. Since Nelia also claims on occasion to have been ‘married’ to Giovanni, some doubt must remain about the veracity of her account. She was a young woman who resembled Eva Kühn in quite a few ways: foreign, multilingual, independent, from her country’s leading political classes, intellectually able. Nelia was one the three people at Giovanni’s deathbed in Cannes (Giorgio was another). Over time, however, the Amendolas, as they put it, ‘lost contact’ with her. Yet she made for herself a distinguished career as a Paris journalist, an expert in Eastern Europe. While the Amendola sons became communists, she remained a liberal democrat, as well as a woman who always remembered Giovanni as her man. Her death probably occurred in 1940. She should not have been forgotten as easily as she has been.

This chapter examines petitioners and petitioning communities within a range of localities to explore the politics of place. First, the analysis demonstrates the ways in which particular topics, such as those associated with mass subscription campaigns, could bring together petitioners from across the four nations. Second, the chapter zooms in to survey a range of localities to offer a comparative study of petitioning communities, emphasising similarities and patterns as well as local variations and differences. Religious congregations were a particularly important, and enduring, form of petitioning community across the period. On other issues, petitioning communities were defined by occupation, profession, trade, or perceived economic interest, such as shipowners or merchants in port cities. Petitioning communities could also be defined by official roles, as when local boards of poor law guardians petitioned regarding social policy, or associational memberships. More generally, it is possible to discern particular continuities and traditions within particular places that reflected the interplay between local political culture and petitioning communities. A study of petitioning communities reveals the diversity of local political cultures, but also shows how they were connected horizontally to petitioners in other localities, and vertically, to national institutions such as Parliament.

Chapter 3 explores medieval hagiographic collections, including Iacopo da Varazze’s Legenda aurea and Domenico Cavalca’s Vite dei santi padri. By adopting conventional narratives – of young men who squander their wealth, cross-dressing female saints, and ascetics tempted by demons – but charging them with new messages, Boccaccio interrogates the nature of exemplarity and the possibility of generalizing from experience. This chapter briefly discusses Decameron 1.1, then turns to individual tales (such as 3.10) that combine details from different narratives, as well as to pairs of tales (such as 2.3 and 2.9) that manipulate elements from one saint’s life in different ways. The chapter concludes by examining Boccaccio’s reprisal of apologues embedded in the Legend of Saints Barlaam and Josaphat – a Christianized version of the life of the Buddha – especially in the partial novella recounted at the opening of Day 4 and in the final novella.

Public petitions to the Commons were part of a broader subscriptional culture. This chapter examines the nature and extent of petitions to other authorities to reassess the evolution of the UK state during the nineteenth century. During this period, petitions were transformed from being generic requests to power to their more modern meaning as expressive and participatory practices linked to representative institutions. Accordingly, other types of petitions to Parliament concerning contested elections and private bills were hived off into specialised processes. Petitions to the House of Lords, though smaller in scale than the Commons, reinforced the upper house’s authority during an era of democratisation and allowed peers to claim popular backing for their veto power. Addresses to the monarchy were a major form of interaction between monarch and subjects, and called upon the monarch to exercise their political supremacy over the other branches of state. Memorials to government provided a discrete mechanism for interest groups to lobby ministers and officials, and were increasingly adopted by pressure groups. The relationship between the state and the people was recast through petitionary interactions that underpinned and renewed the legitimacy of different branches of the state even in the absence of electoral or institutional reforms.

Chapter 3 continues the account of the contest between Mussolini and his unapologetically violent new movement and Amendola’s efforts to reform and defend liberal democracy. As a patriot and a liberal, Giovanni was as staunchly anti-Marxist as the sometime Marxist Mussolini had become. But with his armed squads and populist newspaper, Il Popolo d’Italia, Mussolini’s political recipe was more successful than Giovanni’s purism and rigour. By 1924, Amendola was the leader of the Aventine Secession, a rump of parliamentarians who withdrew from the Chamber of Deputies when Mussolini’s aides murdered their moderate socialist colleague, Matteotti. Amendola maintained his Anti-Fascist leadership until he was assaulted by Fascists in Tuscany in July 1925. After a retreat to Paris and two unsuccessful emergency operations, he died in Cannes in April 1926. While Giovanni was heavily engaged in politics, he continued to wrestle with his relationship with his wife, Eva Kühn, and their four children. Eva went in and out of mental institutions, whether fairly or not. At some point in these years, Giovanni entered into a relationship with the independent Bulgarian-French journalist Nelia Pavlova.

Through his first four decades, Giovanni Amendola strode energetically down the Italian road to liberalism. From his origins in an uncelebrated part of Campania, from a family clinging to the lowest rungs of the middle class, he moved determinedly up and up. En route, there were numerous staging posts: moderate socialism, religion of great variety (but never Catholicism), marriage to a ‘new woman’ from the Romanov empire, pure philosophy, political philosophy, academic life, political journalism, war service with promotion in his country’s officer corps, and then, in November 1919, election to the Chamber of Deputies for one of the seats in the College of Salerno. That first direct step towards political power was followed speedily by appointment to what was the outer cabinet, but with the crucial post-war task of helping to manage Italy’s finances. Within the framework of Italian liberalism, as set in place by the Risorgimento, other young men also emerged into political prominence. But few ranged quite was widely as young Giovanni Amendola.