Dante Alighieri (24 page)

    
Cavalcaselle, among other authorities, declined to accept these conclusions.
*
Checcacci, on the contrary, who carefully compared the Riccardi portrait with a very exact copy of that in the Bargello, asserted that if the difference of age be taken into consideration, the two resemble each other “like two drops of water”:—“The Bargello portrait lacks the wrinkles of the other, while the colouring is more fresh, and the prominence of the lower lip is less marked, but the nose, which does not change with advancing years, is identical, as are the shape and colour of the eyes, and the shape of the skull, which may be distinguished in both portraits”. He added further that the sculptor Dupré was greatly struck with the Riccardi portrait, which he considered might be the work of Giotto himself, and that he availed himself of it for the medallion which he was commissioned to execute in commemoration of the centenary. (See
Giornale del Centenario
for 10 Sept., 1864.)

*
See
Giornale del Centenario
for 20 August, 1864.

    
³⁸
See plate, opposite p. 193. This picture was for a long time attributed to Orcagna, until the discovery of documentary evidence in Florence established the fact that it was the work of Domenico di Michelino (1417-1491) (see
Opere di Vasari
, ed. Milanesi, 1878, vol. i. p. 607
n
., vol. ii. p. 85
n
.). The picture attracted the attention of most English travellers in Florence. The first notice of it by an Englishman occurs in the
Epitaphia et Inscriptiones Lugubres
(published in 1554), of William Barker, the translator of Gelli's
Capricci del Bottaio
, who transcribed the Latin inscription (‘Qui caelum cecinit, mediumque imumque tribunal,' etc.), on the frame, which was Englished 200 years later (in 1730) by Edward Wright, another English traveller, as follows:—

(See
Dante in English Literature
, vol. i. pp. 41, 216, and index). Another picture of Dante worthy of mention here is the painting by Andrea del Castagno (
c
. 1390-1457) of the poet in a red robe, and red hood bordered with fur, with his book in his right hand, which (now in the Museo Nazionale at Florence) originally formed one of a series of portraits (including Farinata degli Uberti, Petrarch, and Boccaccio) executed for the Villa di Legnaia dei Pandolfini (see
Opere di Vasari
, ed. cit., vol. ii. p. 670
n
.; see also plate, opposite p. 231.

    
Anecdotes of Dante—Dante and Can Grande della Scala—Belacqua and Dante—Sacchetti's stories—Dante and the blacksmith—Dante and the donkey-driver—Dante's creed—Dante and King Robert of Naples—Dante's reply to the bore—Dante and the Doge of Venice—Dante a kleptomaniac—Dante and Cecco d' Ascoli.

M
ANY anecdotes and traditions concerning Dante have been preserved by various Italian writers, the majority of which are undoubtedly apocryphal. Some of them, however, are worth recording, as representing the popular conception of what Dante was like in ordinary life.

    
One of the earliest is that told by Petrarch
¹
of Dante at the court of Can Grande della Scala at Verona, after he had been exiled from Florence:—

    
“Dante Alighieri, erewhile my fellow-citizen, was a man greatly accomplished in the vulgar tongue; but on account of his pride he was somewhat more free in his manners and speech than was acceptable to the sensitive eyes and ears of the noble princes of our country. Thus, when he was exiled from his native city, and was a guest at the court of Can Grande, at that time the refuge and resort of all who were in misfortune, he was at first held in high honour; but afterwards by degrees he began to lose favour, and day by day became less pleasing to his host. Among the guests at the same time were, according to the custom of those days, mimics and buffoons of every
description, one of whom, an impudent rascal, by means of his coarse remarks and broad jests made himself a universal favourite and a person of considerable influence. Can Grande, suspecting that this was a cause of vexation to Dante, sent for the buffoon, and, after lavishing praise upon him, turned to Dante and said: ‘I wonder how it is that this man, fool though he be, understands how to please us all, and is petted by every one; while you, for all your reputed wisdom, can do nothing of the kind!' Dante replied: ‘You would hardly wonder at that, if you remembered that like manners and like minds are the real causes of friendship'.”
²

    
A similar anecdote is told by Michele Savonarola, the grandfather of the famous Florentine preacher and reformer, Girolamo Savonarola: “I will tell you the answer made by Dante to a buffoon at the court of the Lord della Scala of Verona, who, having received from his master a fine coat as a reward for some piece of buffoonery, showed it to Dante, and said: ‘You with all your letters, and sonnets, and books, have never received a present like this'. To which Dante answered: ‘What you say is true; and this has fallen to you and not to me, because you have found your likes, and I have not yet found mine. There, you understand that!' ”
³

    
John Gower introduces a story of Dante and a flatterer into the
Confessio Amantis
(
c
. 1390):—

    
Another story of Dante and Can Grande turns on his host's name, Cane (“dog”):—“Once when Dante was at his table Cane della Scala, who was a very gracious lord, wishing to have a joke with the poet and to incite him to some smart saying, ordered his servants to collect all the bones from the repast and to put them privily at Dante's feet. When the tables were removed, and the company saw the pile of bones at Dante's feet, they all began to laugh, and asked him if he were a bone-merchant. Whereupon Dante quickly replied: ‘It is no wonder if the dogs have eaten all their bones; but I am not a dog, and so I could not eat mine'. And he said this because his host was called Cane (‘dog').”
⁵

    
The author of an old commentary on the
Divina Commedia
, written probably not many years after Dante's death, relates Dante's retort to the musical-instrument maker of Florence, whom the poet has placed among the negligent in his Ante-Purgatory:
⁶
“Belacqua was a citizen of Florence, who made the necks of lutes and guitars, and he was the laziest man that ever was known. It was said that he used to come in the morning to his shop and sit himself down, and never stir again except to go to dinner or to his siesta. Now Dante was a familiar acquaintance of his, and often rebuked him for his laziness; whereupon one day when he was scolding him, Belacqua answered him with the words of Aristotle: ‘By
repose and quiet the mind attains to wisdom'. To which Dante retorted: ‘Certainly if repose will make a man wise, you ought to be the wisest man on earth'.”
⁷

    
Benvenuto da Imola, another commentator on the
Commedia
, says that besides being a maker of musical instruments, this Belacqua was also something of a musician, and he explains that it was on this account that Dante, who was a lover of music, became intimate with him.

    
The following two stories of Dante in Florence are told by Franco Sacchetti, the Florentine writer of tales, who was born within twenty years of Dante's death, and belonged to a family which had a long-standing blood-feud with Dante's family, Geri del Bello, the first cousin of the poet's father, having been killed by one of the Sacchetti.
⁸
The first story contains also a characteristic anecdote of Dante's uncompromising ways, which according to Sacchetti largely contributed to bring about his exile.

    
“That most excellent poet in the vulgar tongue, whose fame will never die, Dante Alighieri of Florence, lived in Florence not far from the Adimari family, one of whom, a young man, got into trouble through some misdoing or other, and was like to be sentenced to punishment by one of the magistrates. As the magistrate was a friend of Dante's, the young man begged the latter to intercede in his favour, which Dante readily consented to do. After dinner, Dante went out from his house, and started on his way to fulfil his promise. As he passed by the Porta San Piero, a blacksmith was hammering iron on his anvil, and at the same time bawling out some of Dante's verses, leaving out lines here and there, and putting in others of his own, which seemed to Dante a most monstrous outrage. Without saying a word he went up to the blacksmith's forge, where were kept all the tools he used to ply his
trade, and seizing the hammer flung it into the street; then he took the tongs and flung them after the hammer, and the scales after the tongs; and he did the same with a number of the other tools. The blacksmith, turning round to him with a coarse gesture, said: ‘What the devil are you doing ? are you mad ?' Dante replied: ‘What are you doing ?' ‘I am about my business,' said the smith, ‘and you are spoiling my tools by throwing them into the street.' Dante retorted: ‘If you do not want me to spoil your things, do not you spoil mine'. The smith replied: ‘And what of yours am I spoiling ?' Dante said: ‘You sing out of my book, and do not give the words as I wrote them. That is my business, and you are spoiling it for me.' The blacksmith, bursting with rage, but not knowing what to answer, picked up his things and went back to his work. And the next time he wanted to sing, he sang of Tristram and Lancelot, and let Dante's book alone.

    
“Dante meanwhile pursued his way to the magistrate; and when he was come to his house, and bethought himself that this Adimari was a haughty young man, and behaved with scant courtesy when he went about in the city, especially when he was on horseback (for he used to ride with his legs so wide apart that if the street happened to be narrow he took up the whole of it, forcing every passer-by to brush against the points of his boots—a manner of behaviour which greatly displeased Dante, who was very observant), Dante said to the magistrate: ‘You have before your court such a young man for such an offence; I recommend him to your favour, though his behaviour is such that he deserves to be the more severely punished, for to my mind usurping the property of the commonwealth is a very serious crime'. Dante did not speak to deaf ears. The magistrate asked what property
of the commonwealth the young man had usurped. Dante answered: ‘When he rides through the city he sits on his horse with his legs so wide apart that whoever meets him is obliged to turn back, and is prevented from going on his way'. The magistrate said: ‘Do you regard this as a joke ? it is a more serious offence than the other !' Dante replied: ‘Well, you see, I am his neighbour, and recommend him to you'. And he returned to his house, where the young man asked him how the matter stood. Dante said: ‘He gave me a favourable answer'. A few days afterwards the young man was summoned before the court to answer the charge against him. After the first charge had been read, the judge had the second read also, as to his riding with his legs wide-spread. The young man, perceiving that his penalty would be doubled, said to himself: ‘I have made a fine bargain ! instead of being let off through the intervention of Dante, I shall now be sentenced on two counts'. So returning home he went to Dante and said: ‘Upon my word, you have served me well ! Before you went to the magistrate he had a mind to sentence me on one count; since you went he is like to sentence me on two,'—and in a great fury he turned to Dante and said: ‘If I am sentenced I shall be able to pay, and sooner or later I will pay out the person who got me sentenced'. Dante replied: ‘I did my best for you, and could not have done more if you had been my own son. It is not my fault if the magistrate does not do as you wish.' The young man, shaking his head, returned home; and a few days afterwards was fined a thousand lire for the first offence, and another thousand for riding with his legs wide-spread—a thing he never ceased to resent, both he and all the rest of the Adimari. And this was the principal reason why not long after Dante was expelled from Florence as a member
of the White party, and eventually died in exile at Ravenna, to the lasting shame of his native city.”
⁹