Dante Alighieri (25 page)

    
This story, Sacchetti informs his readers, reminded him of another one about Dante, which he thought too good to be omitted from his collection. It runs as follows:—

    
“On another occasion as Dante was walking through the streets of Florence on no particular errand, and, according to the custom of the day, was wearing a gorget and arm-piece, he met a donkey-driver whose donkeys were loaded with refuse. As he walked behind the donkeys the driver sang some of Dante's verses, and after every two or three lines he would beat one of the donkeys, and cry out:
Arri!
¹⁰
Dante going up to him gave him a great thump on the back with his arm-piece, and said: ‘That
Arri!
was not put in by me'. The driver not knowing who Dante was, nor why he had struck him, only beat his donkeys the more, and again cried out:
Arri!
But when he had got a little way off, he turned round and put out his tongue at Dante, and made an indecent gesture, saying: ‘Take that !' Dante, seeing this, said to him: ‘I would not give one word of mine for a hundred of yours'. Oh ! gentle words, worthy of a philosopher ! Most people would have run after the donkey-driver with threats and abuse; or would have thrown stones at him. But the wise poet confounded the donkey-driver, and at the same time won the commendation of every one who had witnessed what took place.”
¹¹

    
The following story professes to account for the poetical version of the Creed in
terza rima
, which is often included among Dante's works, together with a similar version of the seven penitential Psalms.
¹²

    
“At the time when Dante was writing his book (the
Divina Commedia
) many people who could not understand it said that it was contrary to the Christian faith. And it came about that Dante was exiled from Florence, and forbidden to come within a certain distance of the city, which prohibition being disregarded, he was proclaimed by the Florentines as a rebel. After wandering about for some time in many countries he at last came to Ravenna, an ancient city of Romagna, and settled down at the court of Guido Novello, who was at that time lord of Ravenna; and here he died, in the year 1321, on the fourteenth day of September, that is on the day of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, and was buried with great honour by the lord of the city. Now at Ravenna there was a learned Franciscan friar, who was an inquisitor. This man, having heard of Dante's fame, became desirous of making his acquaintance, with the intention of finding out whether he were a heretic or no. And one morning, as Dante was in church, the inquisitor entered, and Dante being pointed out to him, he sent for him. Dante reverentially went to him, and was asked by the inquisitor if he were the Dante who claimed to have visited Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise. Dante replied: ‘I am Dante Alighieri of Florence'. Whereupon the inquisitor angrily said: ‘You go writing canzoni, and sonnets, and idle tales, when you would have done much better to write a learned work, resting on the foundations of the Church of God, instead of giving your time to such like rubbish, which may one of these days serve you out as you deserve'. When Dante wished to reply to the inquisitor, the latter said: ‘This is not the time; but on such a day I will see you again, and I will inquire into this matter'. Dante thereupon answered that he should be well pleased for this to be done; and taking leave of the inquisitor, he went home to his own room, and there and then wrote
out the composition known as the ‘Little Creed,' the which creed is an affirmation of the whole Christian faith. On the appointed day he went in quest of the inquisitor, and, having found him, put into his hands this composition, which the inquisitor read; and having read it he thought it a remarkable work, insomuch that he was at a loss to know what to say to Dante. And while the inquisitor was thus confounded, Dante took his leave, and so came off safe and sound. And from that day forward Dante and the inquisitor became great friends. And that is how it came about that Dante wrote his Creed.”
¹³

    
Giovanni Sercambi, the Lucchese novelist, tells several stories of Dante, in one of which he relates how Dante turned the tables on King Robert of Naples, the Guelf champion, who was the bitter opponent of Dante's ideal Emperor, Henry of Luxemburg.

    
“In the days when King Robert of Naples was still alive, Dante, the poet of Florence, having been forbidden to live in his native city or anywhere within the States of the Church, took refuge sometimes with the Della Scala family at Verona, and sometimes with the lord of Mantua, but oftenest with the Duke of Lucca, namely, Messer Castruccio Castracani. And inasmuch as the fame of the said Dante's wisdom had been noised abroad, King Robert was desirous of having him at his court, in order that he might judge of his wisdom and virtue; wherefore he sent letters to the Duke, and likewise to Dante, begging him to consent to come. And Dante having decided to go to King Robert's court, set out from Lucca and made his way to Naples, where he arrived, dressed, as poets mostly are, in somewhat shabby garments. When his arrival was announced to King Robert, he was sent for to the King; and it was just the hour of dinner as Dante
entered the room where the King was. After hands had been washed and places taken at table, the King sitting at his own table, and the barons at theirs, at the last Dante was placed at the lowest seat of all. Dante, being a wise man, saw at once how little sense the King showed. Nevertheless, being hungry, he ate, and after he had eaten, he, without waiting, took his departure, and set out towards Ancona on his way back to Tuscany. When King Robert had dined, and rested somewhat, he inquired what had become of Dante, and was informed that he had left and was on his way towards Ancona. The King, knowing that he had not paid Dante the honour which was his due, supposed that he was indignant on that account, and said to himself: ‘I have done wrong; after sending for him, I ought to have done him honour, and then I should have learned from him what I wanted'. He therefore without delay sent some of his own servants after him, who caught him up before he reached Ancona. Having received the King's letter Dante turned round and went back to Naples; and dressing himself in a very handsome garment presented himself before King Robert. At dinner the King placed him at the head of the first table, which was alongside of his own; and Dante finding himself at the head of the table, resolved to make the King understand what he had done. Accordingly, when the meat and wine were served, Dante took the meat and smeared it over the breast of his dress, and the wine he smeared over his clothes in like manner. King Robert and the barons who were present, seeing this, said: ‘This man must be a good-for-nothing; what does he mean by smearing the wine and gravy over his clothes ?' Dante heard how they were abusing him, but held his peace. Then the King, who had observed all that passed, turned to Dante and said: ‘What is this that I have seen you
doing? How can you, who are reputed to be so wise, indulge in such nasty habits?' Dante, who had hoped for some remark of this kind, replied: ‘Your majesty, I know that this great honour which you now show me, is paid not to me but to my clothes; consequently I thought that my clothes ought to partake of the good things you provided. You must see that what I say is the case; for I am just as wise now, I suppose, as when I was set at the bottom of the table, because of my shabby clothes; and now I have come back, neither more nor less wise than before, because I am well dressed, you place me at the head of the table.' King Robert, recognising that Dante had rebuked him justly, and had spoken the truth, ordered fresh clothes to be brought for him, and Dante after changing his dress ate his dinner, delighted at having made the King see his own folly. When dinner was over, the King took Dante aside, and, making proof of his wisdom, found him to be even wiser than he had been told; wherefore King Robert paid Dante great honour and kept him at his court, in order that he might have further experience of his wisdom and virtue.”

    
The famous Florentine story-teller, Francesco Poggio Bracciolini, more commonly known as Poggio, besides the two anecdotes of Dante and Can Grande which have already been given, relates the following of how Dante disposed of a bore:—

    
“At the time when our poet Dante was in exile at Siena, as he was standing one day deep in thought, with his elbow on one of the altars in the Church of the Minor Friars, as though he were revolving in his mind some very abstruse matter, some busybody went up to him, and disturbed him by speaking to him. Dante turned to him and said: ‘What is the biggest beast in the world ?' ‘The elephant,' was the reply. Then said Dante: ‘Oh ! elephant, leave
me alone in peace, for I am pondering weightier matters than your silly chatter ‘.”
¹⁴

    
Another version of this story is included among
The Most Elegant and Witty Epigrams
(first published in 1615) of Sir John Harington. It is entitled

    
The following anecdote of Dante and the Doge of Venice belongs to quite the end of Dante's life, the occasion in question being when he was in Venice on his embassy from Guido da Polenta in the summer of 1321, a few months before his death:—

    
“Dante of Florence being once on a mission in Venice, was invited to dinner by the Doge on a fast-day. In front of the envoys of the other princes who were of greater account than the Polenta lord of Ravenna, and were served before Dante, were placed the largest fish; while in front of Dante were placed the smallest. This difference of treatment nettled Dante, who took up one of the little fish in his hand, and held it to his ear, as though expecting it to say something. The Doge, observing this, asked him what this strange behaviour meant. To which Dante replied: ‘As I knew that the father of this fish met his
death in these waters, I was asking him news of his father'. ‘Well,' said the Doge, ‘and what did he answer ?' Dante replied: ‘He told me that he and his companions were too little to remember much about him; but that I might learn what I wanted from the older fish, who would be able to give me the news I asked for'. Thereupon the Doge at once ordered Dante to be served with a fine large fish.”
¹⁶

    
An English traveller in Italy at the beginning of the eighteenth century picked up in Florence the following curious story about Dante:—

    
“This great man, we are told, had a most unhappy itch of pilfering; not for lucre (for it was generally of mere trifles), but it was what he could not help; so that the friends whose houses he frequented, would put in his way rags of cloth, bits of glass, and the like, to save things of more value (for he could not go away without something); and of such as these, at his death, a whole room full was found filled.”
¹⁷

    
Another anecdote is given by Isaac D'Israeli in his
Curiosities of Literature
:—

    
“A story is recorded of Cecco d' Ascoli and of Dante, on the subject of natural and acquired genius. Cecco maintained that nature was more potent than art, while Dante asserted the contrary. To prove his principle, the great Italian bard referred to his cat, which, by repeated practice, he had taught to hold a candle in its paw, while he supped or read. Cecco desired to witness the experiment, and came not unprepared for the purpose; when Dante's cat was performing its part, Cecco, lifting up the lid
of a pot which he had filled with mice, the creature of art instantly showed the weakness of a talent merely acquired, and dropping the candle flew on the mice with all its instinctive propensity. Dante was himself disconcerted, and it was adjudged that the advocate for the occult principle of native faculties had gained his cause.”
¹⁸

    
Many of these stories are obviously much older than the time of Dante, and have been told of various famous persons at different periods. Their association, however, with Dante's name is sufficient proof of the estimation in which he was held within a few years after his death, and of the way in which his fame as a poet impressed the popular imagination in Italy.

 

    
¹
In bk. ii. of the
Res Memorandae
.

    
²
Or, as we should say, “birds of a feather flock together”.