t^ 
 
 THE 
 
 WILLIAM R. PERKINS 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 DUKE UNIVERSITY 
 
 Rare Books 
 
Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive 
 in 2011 witii funding from 
 Dui^e University Libraries 
 
 littp://www.arcliive.org/details/translationofgioOObocc 
 
The Committee on Publications of the Grolier 
 Club certifies that this copy of the translation 
 of "Giovanni Boccaccio's Life of Dante" is 
 one of an edition of three hundred copies on 
 Italian hand-made paper, and three copies on 
 vellum, and that all the copies were printed in 
 the month of February, 1 900. 
 
BOCCACCIO'S 
 
 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
A TRANSLATION OF 
 
 GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO'S 
 
 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND A NOTE 
 ON THE PORTRAITS OF DANTE 
 
 BY 
 
 G. R. CARPENTER 
 
 THE GROLIER CLUB 
 
 OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK 
 
 MDCCCC 
 
Copyright, 1900, by 
 
 The Grolier Club of the 
 
 City of New York. 
 

 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introduction 13 
 
 I Proem 29 
 
 11 Dante's Birth and Education 35 
 
 III Dante's Love for Beatrice and his Marriage 43 
 
 IV Dante's Family Cares, Honors, and Exile . 57 
 V Dante's Flight from Florence and Travels . 63 
 
 VI His Death and Funeral Honors .... 69 
 
 VII The Florentines Reproached 74 
 
 Vili Dante's Appearance, Usages and Habits . . 83 
 
 IX Digression with regard to Poetry .... 91 
 
 X The Difference that exists between Poetry 
 
 and Theology 98 
 
 XI The Laurel bestowed on Poets . . . .105 
 
 XII Qualities and Defects of Dante .... 109 
 
IO CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 XIII The Different Works written by Dante . . Il6 
 
 XIV Some Accidents that happened with regard to 
 
 the Divine Comedy 120 
 
 XV Why the Comedy is written in the Vulgar 
 
 Tongue 127 
 
 XVI The Book of Monarchy and Other Works . 130 
 
 XVII Explanation of the Dream of Dante's Mother 
 
 and Conclusion 135 
 
 Note on the Portraits of Dante . . . .147 
 
 Index 157 
 
ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS 
 OF THIS VOLUME 
 
 The Frontispiece is a reproduction of a drawing 
 by George Varian from a photograph of the Min- 
 iature in the Codex Riccardianus, 1040. 
 
 The view of Florence before 1490 is a reproduc- 
 tion, by kind permission of Dr. Lippman, of the 
 unique woodcut in the Print Department of the 
 Berlin Museum. 
 
 The cover design, by Edward B. Edwards, Jr., 
 is fully explained in Chapter XVII. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 I T is impossible to say with any 
 definiteness when 'Boccaccio 
 wrote his Life of Dante, though 
 scholars have many times suc- 
 ceeded^ to their own satisfac- 
 tion, in settling on an approx- 
 imate date. He must have written it before 
 1373, because he refers to it in his 'Dante lec- 
 tures of that year. He must have completed it 
 after 1348, because he incorporates in it a pas- 
 sage from a letter of 'Petrarch written in that 
 year. 'But all attempts to refer it to a particu- 
 lar year seem, upon close examination, fruit- 
 
14 INTRODUCTION 
 
 less. ZVe can surmise that he wrote after his 
 visit to 'J^avenna in 1350, in which he bore to 
 'Dante's daughter, 'Beatrice, then a nun in the 
 convent of San Stefano dell' Uliva, a subsidy of 
 ten florins of gold from the company of Or San 
 Michele; and we may feel that his work has 
 the serious and earnest character that marks his 
 later writings. It was first printed in 1477 cis 
 prefatory material to the first Venetian edition 
 of the Divine Comedy. It was again issued, 
 — this time separately, — in l^ome in 1344, 
 and in 1576 it was appended to the first edition 
 of the New Life. In the eighteenth century, 
 when interest in 'Dante reached its lowest point, 
 it was only twice reprinted. In the present cen- 
 tury, with the reawakening of love for mediaeval 
 literature, it has appeared in a number of edi- 
 tions. The definitive edition, the text of which 
 is followed in this translation, was published in 
 1888 by a brilliant young Italian scholar, the 
 late 'Dr. Macri-Leone. In spite of its interest 
 and value, however, the Life of Dante has not, 
 so far as I know, been translated, as a whole. 
 
INTRODUCTION 15 
 
 into any language. The French version ofJ^ey- 
 nard is based on the shorter and less important 
 form of the Life, and the accurate and graceful 
 version by Mr. 'P. H. ZVicksteed, in his Pro- 
 visional Translation of the Early Lives of 
 Dante ( 1898), omits a number of the less essen- 
 tial chapters. The accompanying translation, 
 therefore, is believed to be the first that is com- 
 plete — not only in English but in any language. 
 ZVe must not proceed further, however, with- 
 out disposing of a troublesome question, which 
 has occupied the attention of previous writers on 
 the subject to a surprising and unnecessary de- 
 gree, — I mean the relation between the various 
 forms in which the Life has come down to us. 
 Neglecting minor variations, these are, in brief, 
 two, — the so-called vita intera or ''whole life," 
 and the so-called compendio or ''summary," 
 which has usually been considered an abbrevi- 
 ated form of the "whole life." The Compend 
 is found in three texts, each differing consid- 
 erably from the others. It is distinguished from 
 the Life not so much in length, though it is some- 
 
16 INTRODUCTION 
 
 what shorter, as in proportion, for it sometimes 
 passes lightly over topics which are treated at 
 length in the Life, and sometimes develops at 
 length topics which have been there only touched 
 upon. /Is to the relation between the two, ex- 
 perts differ widely, and the question has been 
 for many years the subject of a somewhat heated 
 discussion, which has been summed up by ©r. 
 Moore in his valuable little volume, Dante and 
 his Early Biographers ( 18^0). Those who hold 
 opinions on the matter may, as ©r. Moore says, 
 be divided into four classes, — first, those who 
 believe that the Life is genuine and the Conn- 
 pend is spurious^ second, those who believe 
 that the Compend is genuine and the Life spu- 
 rious^ third, those who believe that 'Boccaccio 
 was the author of both, but that the Compend is 
 a later revision } and fourth, those who believe 
 that 'Boccaccio wrote both, but that the Compend 
 is an earlier draft, from which the Life was de- 
 veloped. The second opinion is not generally 
 held} the first is the most common ^ the last has 
 quite recently been ably defended by ^ostagno. 
 
INTRODUCTION 17 
 
 in the introduction to his critical edition of the 
 Compend [1899). 
 
 It is not necessary for us to go deeply into 
 this puzzling and apparently unsolvable prob- 
 lem. ZVe need merely point out two things. 
 First, so far as biography is concerned, the main 
 points with regard to 'Dante's life are without 
 exception made in both treatises. The empha- 
 sis laid on these points differs somewhat, but 
 the points themselves are identical. Second, 
 under these circumstances, we have, from our 
 point of view, merely to choose the treatise from 
 which we can best get 'Boccaccio's conception 
 of 'Dante's character. /Ill agree that that can 
 be obtained best from the ''whole life." There 
 is no doubt of its genuineness ', it is the fuller 
 of the two and the more finished. ZVe have, 
 therefore, chosen it here for translation in pref- 
 erence to the Compend. ZVhether the Com- 
 pend be 'Boccaccio's early draft or a revision 
 attempted by others, makes little or no differ- 
 ence to the student of Dante. 
 
 Boccaccio's interest in Dante was of long 
 
 2 
 
18 INTRODUCTION 
 
 standing. His earliest letters show the influ- 
 ence of 'Dante's Latin style. The introduction 
 to the Filocolo, his first work, shows the influ- 
 ence of the Vita Nuova; the Amorosa Visione, 
 in which he calls 'Dante the ^' lord of all know- 
 ledge/' is in obvious imitation of the Divine 
 Comedy; the charming ballate in the Decam- 
 eron are modelled on the lyrics of 'Dante and his 
 school; and there are many other traces of his 
 admiration for 'Dante and his earnest study of 
 his works. In 1359; sending to the unrespon- 
 sive Petrarch a codex of the Divine Comedy, 
 he bears testimony to the love he had, from his 
 youth, borne for 'Dante's writings and the deep 
 influence they had had upon him. ZVhen in 
 1373 the city established a public course of lec- 
 tures on the Divine Comedy, 'Boccaccio was 
 appointed to the post; and we may be allowed, 
 perhaps, to conjecture that the revulsion of feel- 
 ing in Florence regarding ^ante, at that period, 
 may have been to some considerable degree fur- 
 thered by his genuine and impetuous admiration. 
 
INTRODUCTION 19 
 
 Certainly, in none ofBoccaccio's serious works 
 is his heart so evidently in his task as in this. 
 
 Tiante died in 1 32 1. 'Boccaccio was born in 
 13 13' His youth was spent in Florence, but 
 'Dante was then an exile. From 1330 to about 
 1340 he was at Naples; but from the latter date 
 on he was, for various periods, again a resident 
 of Florence and familiar with such traditions as 
 served him later in his biographical sketch. He 
 knew intimately, he states, 'Dante^s sister^s 
 son, yindrea 'Poggi, who greatly resembled 
 'Dante in face and stature, and from him re- 
 ceived much information as to Dante's ways 
 and habits. He knew 'Dino 'Perini, according 
 to his own account a familiar friend of 'Dante; 
 and that unknown informant, the near relative 
 of 'Beatrice, on whose testimony seems to rest 
 the only positive evidence that she was then 
 thought to be 'Beatrice Portinari. At l^aven- 
 na, too, he had met Dante's daughter, 'Beatrice, 
 and Piero Giardino, whom he mentions in his 
 commentary as one of 'Dante's most devoted 
 
20 INTRODUCTION 
 
 friends. 'Better sources he could scarcely have 
 had for securing the information he seems to 
 have been most in search of — information re- 
 garding not only the main facts of 'Dante's life, 
 but his temperament and character. 
 
 It must be borne in mind that 'Boccaccio had 
 no published sources of information. No one 
 had written of 'Dante before^ save Giovanni Vil- 
 lani in his Florentine Chronicle, and that only 
 incidentally and briefly. Documents that would 
 have made much clear to us he could doubtless 
 have secured^ and it is greatly to be regretted 
 that he did not do so. But it is easy to see that 
 he had no precedents for such a procedure. His 
 was not only the first biography of Dante, but, 
 with the exception of Joinville's Saint Louis, 
 the first modern biography of any sort. The 
 chronicle was a familiar form of composition, 
 and was rapidly developing into history, but bi- 
 ography was unknown. The few accessible Latin 
 models afforded him little help', and, immersed 
 as he was in the multitudinous classical erudi- 
 tion that made him one of the greatest compilers 
 
INTRODUCTION 21 
 
 of his age^ he naturally failed to see that pos- 
 terity would look to him and his contemporaries 
 for whatever accurate and decisive information 
 could be obtained as to the real facts of 'Dante's 
 life. 
 
 It is not to be wondered at that a work en- 
 tered on with such devoted enthusiasm, and by 
 one who was not only a great man of letters him- 
 self, but had access to such sources of infor- 
 mation, should have become a classic. Bach 
 succeeding writer drew mainly from 'Boccaccio's 
 store, and, with a single exception, his has re- 
 mained until our own century the only essay on 
 'Dante worth serious consideration. That ex- 
 ception is the concise biographical sketch of 
 Lionardo 'Bruni, more generally known, from 
 the city of his birth, as Lionardo Aretino, — a 
 distinguished historian and antiquary of the suc- 
 ceeding century [1369-1444)' Serious minded 
 and critical, with something of the modern schol- 
 ar' s feeling for ^^ sources" and exact documen- 
 tary evidence, Lionardo was mildly contemptu- 
 ous of Boccaccio's essay, as is clearly shown 
 
22 INTRODUCTION 
 
 by the opening lines of his sketch, which I quote 
 from Mr, ZVicksteed's translation : 
 
 '^ Having in the last few days completed a 
 work of great length, I fell into the desire of read- 
 ing something in the vernacular to refresh my 
 toil-spent mind} because, as at table one un- 
 changing diet, so in study one unchanging kind 
 of reading palls upon us. /is I searched, then, 
 with this purpose, my hand fell upon a little 
 work of 'Boccaccio, entitled ' Of the life, man- 
 ners and studies of the most illustrious poet 
 'Dante'; and though I had previously read this 
 work with great diligence, yet as I now scanned 
 it anew it came upon me that this most delightful 
 and charming 'Boccaccio of ours wrote the life 
 and manners of so sublime a poet just as though 
 he were writing the Filocolo, or the Filostrato, 
 or the Fiammetta. For it is all full of love and 
 sighs and burning tears; as though man were 
 born into this world only that he might take his 
 place in those ten amorous Days wherein enam- 
 oured ladies and gallant youths recounted the 
 hundred Tales. /Ind he grows so warm in these 
 
INTRODUCTION 23 
 
 passages of love that he drops the weighty and 
 substantial parts of 'Dante's life, passing them 
 over in silence, while he records trivial matters 
 and holds his peace concerning grave ones. So 
 it came into my heart to rewrite Dante's life for 
 my diversion, taking more note of the memora- 
 ble things. Nor do I this in disparagement of 
 'Boccaccio, but that my work may be a supple- 
 ment to his." 
 
 /Igain and again, in the course of his work, 
 Lionardo returns to the charge, regretting that 
 'Boccaccio devoted so much space to 'Dante's 
 wife and to Beatrice, and neglected the civic and 
 political side of Dante's genius. He himself 
 does not mention Beatrice, and preserves an at- 
 titude of indifference to what modern writers 
 sometimes call Dante's "inner" life, but he 
 had access to certain letters of Dante now lost, 
 and his whole treatment of Dante's political 
 career is particularly discriminating and con- 
 vincing. 
 
 On these two writers, 'Boccaccio and Lio- 
 nardo, modern criticism, almost hopeless of de- 
 
24 INTRODUCTION 
 
 ducing from 'Dante* s works f or discovering from 
 contemporary records, the truth as to much that 
 is of vital interest in his life, is coming more and 
 more to lean. The contrast between them is strik- 
 ing. Bach author was by temperament and 
 tastes the precursor of a whole group of later 
 authors, — Boccaccio the founder of modern 
 literary biography, Lionardo one of the first 
 writers of the Renaissance to apply a more crit- 
 ical and unemotional method of analysis to such 
 subjects, and thus to pave the way for our mod- 
 ern school of unliterary historians and biogra- 
 phers, who sometimes stick so closely to the 
 letter of their documentary sources that they do 
 violence to the spirit of their subject. 
 
 'Boccaccio's serious writings have suffered 
 from his reputation as the author of the Decame- 
 ron. How can the maker of fiction be a good 
 biographer? the critic naturally asks. /Ind it 
 must be confessed that there are several points 
 in which 'Boccaccio's Life of Dante lies open to 
 question if not to censure. It is only just to enu- 
 merate them. First, it is charged that Boccac- 
 
INTRODUCTION 25 
 
 cio^s allegorical explanation of the dream of 
 'Dante's mother^ and his account of the finding 
 of the last cantos of the Paradise by means of 
 a vision, prove him to be of an uncritical and 
 credulous mind. Second, his long tirade in Chap- 
 ter 1 1 1, apropos of Gemma 'Donati, against wives 
 and the trouble which they cause philosophic and 
 studious husbands, is manifestly unjust, since he 
 himself expressly confesses that he knows no- 
 thing that would show that 'Dante's wife was 
 uncongenial to him, save the fact that, from the 
 beginning of his exile, they did not live together 
 and apparently made no efforts to do so. Third, 
 his statement in Chapter XII as to Xante's 
 licentiousness seems to many incredible. 
 
 In reply to each of these charges something 
 may fairly be said. First, the allegorical inter- 
 pretation of the dream of 'Dante's mother has its 
 example in many passages in 'Dante's own prose 
 works, and may be pardoned, in his case as in 
 'Dante's, as due to the adoption of a method of 
 interpretation which had been in common use for 
 centuries. The apparition of Chapter XIV and 
 
26 INTRODUCTION 
 
 the recovery of the manuscript through its means 
 are almost exactly paralleled by more than one 
 incident recorded in the reports of the Society for 
 'Psychical l^esearch. That such an occurrence 
 is incredible, few men of scientific training would 
 perhaps now care to say. Second, 'Boccaccio's 
 attitude towards women and matrimony, par- 
 ticularly after the incidents that led to the publi- 
 cation of the Corbaccio, was one full of bitter- 
 ness. ZVhat he honestly thought true, — that 
 it was impossible for a married scholar to con- 
 tinue his researches in peace, — he wished to 
 state as strongly as possible. So far as he knew 
 Xante's character and that of Florentine women 
 he undoubtedly conjectured that 'Dante's mar- 
 riage must have proved a hindrance to him in his 
 studies^ but he expressly states that he knew 
 nothing against Gemma. That part of his tirade 
 is borrowed from a fragment of Theophrastus 
 need not surprise us, and indeed makes it more 
 evident that he was generalizing rather than par- 
 ticularizing, /is a general statement the pas- 
 sage is significant of the attitude of the early 
 
INTRODUCTION 27 
 
 humanists towards matrimony^ and, in its es- 
 sence, would probably have been subscribed to 
 by 'Petrarch, — and perhaps by 'Dante himself. 
 Third, 'Boccaccio's statement as to 'Dante's 
 licentiousness is repeated by Dante's own son 
 and by other fourteenth century commentators. 
 It has at least as much evidence in its favor as 
 the statement that 'Beatrice was Beatrice 'Por- 
 tinari, and there is much in the habits of the time 
 that would predispose us to believe it. Certainly 
 it cannot be said to have been a malicious or an 
 incredible statement, or one that was without 
 direct bearing on the subject matter of the essay. 
 On the whole, then, it is apparent that the 
 Life of Dante may properly be censured only in 
 two particulars, — the over-attention paid to al- 
 legorizing and the extreme attitude towards mat- 
 rimony. Of these, the first was the common 
 fault of the times, and the second, to some de- 
 gree, due to Boccaccio's private failings. Both 
 may be pardoned him when we reflect on the 
 points in which the Life deserves praise, — the 
 emphasis which it lays upon Dante's character 
 
28 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 rather than upon the less significant facts of his 
 lifCf and the precious information he gives us as 
 to the poet's physical appearance and intellec- 
 tual habits. It is largely due to 'Boccaccio that 
 we know more of 'Dante than we do of any other 
 of the greatest poets. 
 
 G. ^. Carpenter. 
 
PROEM 
 
 OLON, whose breast was 
 reputed a human temple of 
 divine wisdom, and whose 
 sacred laws are to the fene- 
 ration of to-day an illustrious 
 witness to the justice of the 
 ancients, was, as some say, often in the habit 
 of declaring that every republic walks and stands 
 on two feet like ourselves. Of these, he affirmed 
 with great weight, the right is not letting any 
 crime that has been committed remain unpun- 
 ished, and the left is rewarding every good 
 deed. He added that whenever either of the 
 
30 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 two things mentioned was neglected, whether 
 by fault or by carelessness, or was not well 
 seen to, the republic that so fared must without 
 doubt ^o lame; and if by bad luck she sinned 
 in both points, it was almost inevitable that she 
 could not stand at all. Struck by this praise- 
 worthy and obviously sound maxim, many an- 
 cient and famous peoples honored their worthy 
 men, sometimes by deification, sometimes by 
 marble statues, often by distinguished obse- 
 quies and triumphal arches and laurel crowns, 
 according to their merits. The punishments in- 
 flicted on the culpable, on the other hand, I do 
 not care to recount. It was by virtue of such 
 honors and penalties that Assyria, Macedonia, 
 Greece, and finally the Roman Republic, grew 
 until their deeds reached the ends of the earth 
 and their fame touched the stars. In the foot- 
 steps of such high exemplars their present 
 successors have not only failed to follow, es- 
 pecially these Florentines of mine, but have 
 so far wandered from them that now ambition 
 holds all the rewards due to virtue. Wherefore 
 I, and whoever else will look at the matter 
 with a rational eye, can see, not without the 
 greatest affliction of heart, evil and perverse 
 
PROEM 31 
 
 men elevated to hi^b places and supreme 
 offices and rewards, and ^ood men exiled, cast 
 down, and humbled. What end the justice of 
 God may reserve for these practices let them 
 consider who hold the rudder of our ship of 
 state, since we of the common people are 
 borne alon^ with them by Fortune's blast, but 
 are not partakers in their ^uilt. Although what 
 has been said above may be confirmed by 
 numberless open instances of ingratitude to 
 the ^ood and criminal leniency to the bad, one 
 instance alone will be enough to give, that I 
 may least discover our own faults and best 
 come at my principal point. Nor shall this 
 instance be little or slight; for I refer to the 
 exile of the illustrious Dante Alighieri, born 
 of an old citizen family, not of low parentage. 
 What rewards he deserved for his worth, his 
 learning, and his good service are amply ap- 
 parent, and will be shown by what we shall 
 see that he did. If such deeds had been done 
 in a just republic, there is no doubt that they 
 would have won him the highest rewards. 
 
 Oh, vile thought, infamous deed, wretched 
 example, manifest sign of ruin to come! In 
 place of reward, he suffered an unjust and 
 
32 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 hasty sentence, perpetual banishment, the ali- 
 enation of his family estate, and, if that could 
 have been accomplished, the staining of his 
 glorious fame by false accusations. To this 
 the fresh traces of his flight, his bones buried 
 in another country, his children scattered in 
 others' houses, still in part bear witness. If all 
 the other iniquities of Florence could be con- 
 cealed from the all-seeing eyes of God, would 
 not this alone suffice to draw down upon her 
 His wrath? Yea, verily. Of him, who, on the 
 other hand, has been exalted, I jud^e that it is 
 better to be silent. Looking well, then, at the 
 facts, we see that the world of to-day has not 
 only left the path of the earliest world, on 
 which I touched above, but has turned its feet 
 completely in the other direction. Wherefore 
 it is sufficiently manifest that if we, and others 
 that live in like wise, contrary to the above- 
 mentioned maxim of Solon, still stand on our 
 feet without falling, there can be no other rea- 
 son than that through lon^ usa^e the nature of 
 things has changed, as we often see happen; 
 or it is a special miracle, by which God, on 
 account of some merit in our past, sustains us, 
 contrary to all human foresight; or that it is 
 
PROEM 33 
 
 His patience, which perhaps awaits our repent- 
 ance. And if that does not at length follow, 
 let no one doubt that His an^er, which with 
 slow pace moves towards vengeance, reserves 
 for us a punishment so much more grievous 
 that it will fully justify its tardiness. But in- 
 asmuch as we should not only flee evil deeds, 
 though they seem to go unpunished, but also 
 by right action try to correct them, I, recog- 
 nizing that I am of the same city as Dante 
 Alighieri, — though I am but a small part of 
 it and he a very great part of it, if his merits, 
 his nobility, and his worth be considered, — 
 feel that, like every other citizen, I am person- 
 ally responsible for the honors due him. Al- 
 though I am not sufficient for so great a task, 
 nevertheless, that which the city ought to have 
 done for him in a magnificent fashion, but has 
 not done, that will I endeavor to do, according 
 to my own poor ability, — not with a statue or 
 noble burial, the custom of which has now 
 perished among us (nor would my power suf- 
 fice), but by my writing, — a humble means for 
 so great an undertaking. This have I, and of 
 this will I give, in order that foreign nations 
 cannot say that, both as a body and individu- 
 3 
 
34 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 ally, his native land has been equally ungrate- 
 ful to so ^reat a poet. And I shall write (in a 
 bumble and current style, because higher my 
 talent does not allow me to ^o; and in our own 
 Florentine idiom, that it may not be out of 
 accord with the language he used in the greater 
 part of his works) those things about himself 
 re^ardin^ which he modestly kept silence, — 
 that is, the nobility of his origin, his life, his 
 studies, and his ways. Then I shall sum up 
 the works by which he has made himself so 
 illustrious amon^ fenerations yet to come, that 
 perhaps my words shall rather obscure him 
 than throw li^ht on him, though that will not 
 be of my own intent and will. I shall be glad 
 always in this and other matters to be cor- 
 rected by those wiser than I when I have 
 spoken faultily. But that that may not happen, 
 I humbly pray Him who drew Dante by those 
 lofty stairs, as we know, to see Him, that He 
 will now aid me, and guide my genius and my 
 feeble hand. 
 
II 
 
 DANTE'S BIRTH AND EDUCATION 
 
 XORENCE, as well as the 
 other most noble Italian cities, 
 took her be^innin^ from the 
 Romans, as the ancient his- 
 tories tell us and as the com- 
 mon opinion of people now 
 runs. In process of time she ^rew larger, be- 
 came full of people and of illustrious citizens, 
 and be^an to appear to her neighbors not 
 merely a city but a power. Whether the ulti- 
 mate cause of the change was adverse for- 
 tune, or the ill-will of heaven, or the deserts of 
 her citizens, is uncertain; but it is clear that. 
 
36 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 not many centuries after, Attila, the cruel kin^ 
 of the Vandals, and the general devastator of 
 nearly all Italy, killed and dispersed all or the 
 greater part of her citizens who were famous 
 for noble blood or for other reasons, and re- 
 duced Florence itself to ashes and ruins. Thus 
 it remained, it is believed, for more than three 
 hundred years. At the end of that time the 
 imperial power of Rome was transferred, not 
 without cause, from Greece to Gaul; and 
 Charles the Great, then the most clement king 
 of the French, was raised to the imperial 
 throne. After many labors, moved, I believe, 
 by the divine spirit, he turned his imperial mind 
 to the rebuilding of this desolate city; and al- 
 though he limited its size by a small circuit of 
 walls, he had it rebuilt, so far as he could, 
 after the likeness of Rome, and settled by those 
 who had been its first founders, collecting in- 
 side the walls, nevertheless, the few remnants 
 which could be found of the descendants of the 
 ancient exiles. 
 
 Among these new inhabitants, — perhaps 
 one who superintended the rebuilding, or as- 
 signed the houses and streets, or gave to this 
 new people the necessary laws, — there came 
 
BIRTH AND EDUCATION 37 
 
 from Rome, as the story runs, a noble youth of 
 the family of the Frangipani, called by all Eli- 
 seo. He, by chance, after he had accomplished 
 the principal purpose for which he was come, 
 became a permanent resident of the city, drawn 
 either by love for the city which he had so re- 
 cently helped to reorganize; or by the pleasant 
 site, to which he perhaps saw that heaven in 
 future must be favorable; or by some other 
 cause. After him he left a lar^e and worthy 
 family of sons and descendants, who, abandon- 
 ing the ancient surname of their ancestors, took 
 for a surname that of him who had founded 
 theirfamily,andallcalled themselves the Elisei. 
 As time went on and son succeeded father, 
 there was born and lived, in this family, a brave 
 knight, remarkable for his deeds and his wis- 
 dom, whose name was Cacciaguida. To him, 
 in his youth, was given by his elders as bride a 
 damsel born of the Aldighieri of Ferrara, es- 
 teemed for her beauty and character as well as 
 for her noble blood, with whom he lived many 
 years, and by whom he had many children. 
 Whatever the others were called, it pleased 
 the mother to revive for one the name of her 
 ancestors, as women are wont to like to do, 
 3* 
 
38 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 naming him Aldi^hieri, although the word after- 
 wards, dropping the letter d, became Alighieri. 
 The worth of this man brought it about that 
 all who descended from him forsook the name 
 of Elisei, and called themselves Alighieri, — a 
 practice which has lasted to our time. From 
 him were descended many children, and grand- 
 children, and great-grandchildren, and, in the 
 reign of the Emperor Frederick the Second, 
 one whose name was Alighieri, and who was 
 destined to become illustrious through his son 
 rather than by himself. His wife, when with 
 child and not far distant from the time of par- 
 turition, saw in a dream what the fruit of her 
 womb should be ; and the dream is now clear to 
 all, although it was not then understood by her 
 or by others. 
 
 It seemed to the gentle lady in her dream 
 that she was under a lofty laurel tree in a green 
 meadow, hard by a clear spring, and here she 
 felt herself give birth to a son, who, in a brief 
 space of time, feeding only upon the berries 
 which fell from the laurel tree, and drinking of 
 the waters of the clear spring, seemed to her 
 to become a shepherd, and to strive with all his 
 might to lay hold on the leaves of the laurel 
 
BIRTH AND EDUCATION 39 
 
 tree whose fruit had fed him. And in striving 
 for this, he seemed to her to fall, and on rising 
 to have become no more a man but a peacock. 
 At this she was so greatly astonished that she 
 awoke, and not a lon^ while after the proper 
 time came for her labor, and she ^ave birth to 
 a son, to whom she and his father ^ave by 
 common consent the name of Dante; and ap- 
 propriately, too, since, as we shall see later, 
 the result fitted the name excellently. This 
 was that Dante of whom I write; this was that 
 Dante who was granted to our a^e by the spe- 
 cial ^race of God; this was that Dante who 
 first was destined to open the way for the re- 
 turn to Italy of the banished Muses. By him 
 the ^lory of the Florentine idiom was made 
 manifest; by him all the beauties of the com- 
 mon speech were set to fitting numbers; by him 
 dead poetry may properly be said to have been 
 revived. These things, if fittingly considered, 
 will show that he could have rightly had no 
 other name than Dante. 
 
 This ^lory of the Italian race was born in 
 our city when the imperial throne was vacant 
 through the death of the Frederick already 
 mentioned, in the year of the saving incarna- 
 
40 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 tion of the King of the Universe MCCLXV, 
 while Pope Urban the Fourth sat in the chair 
 of S. Peter. He was born into a family on 
 whom fortune smiled, — I say "smiled," ac- 
 cording to the quality of the world at that time. 
 But, however that may have been, letting pass 
 his infancy, in which appeared many signs of 
 the future glory of his genius, I say that from 
 the beginning of his boyhood, when he had 
 learned the first elements of letters, he did not 
 give himself up, after the fashion of the young 
 nobles of to-day, to boyish wantonness and 
 sloth, lounging in his mother's lap; but gave 
 up his entire boyhood, in his own city, to the 
 continued study of the liberal arts, in which he 
 became admirably expert. And as his mind 
 and genius increased with years, he devoted 
 himself, not to the lucrative studies to which 
 every one now runs as a rule, but, with a praise- 
 worthy desire for eternal fame, despising tran- 
 sitory riches, he gave himself up freely to his 
 wish to have a full knowledge of the fictions of 
 the poets and of the artistic analysis of them. 
 In this exercise he became thoroughly familiar 
 with Virgil, Horace, Ovid, Statius, and other 
 famous poets, not only being fond of knowing 
 
BIRTH AND EDUCATION 41 
 
 them, but striving to imitate them in lofty song, 
 as the works of which we shall speak in their 
 proper time show. And seeing that the works of 
 the poets are not vain and simple fables or mar- 
 vels, as the foolish multitude thinks, but that 
 under them are concealed the sweet fruits of 
 historical and philosophical truth (for which 
 reason the intent of the poets cannot be wholly 
 understood without history and moral and natu- 
 ral philosophy), he made a proper division of 
 his time, and strove to learn history by himself 
 and philosophy under various masters, not 
 without long study and toil. And seized by the 
 sweetness of knowing the truth about heavenly 
 things, and finding nothing else in life dearer 
 than this, he put completely aside all other 
 earthly cares, and devoted himself entirely to 
 it. And in order that he might leave no part of 
 philosophy uninvestigated, his acute mind ex- 
 plored the most profound depths of theology. 
 Nor was the result far distant from the pur- 
 pose ; for, without regard for heat or cold, vigils 
 or fasts, or any other bodily discomfort, by as- 
 siduous study he came to know whatever the 
 human intellect can here know of the Divine 
 Essence and of the other separate intelligen- 
 
42 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 ces. And as in various parts of his life he 
 studied various sciences, so he prosecuted his 
 various studies under various masters. 
 
 The first elements, as has been said above, 
 he ^ot in his native city; and from here, as to 
 a place richer in such food, he went to Bo- 
 logna; and when he was already near old age, 
 he went to Paris, where he showed the height 
 of his genius in many disputations, with such 
 glory to himself that those who heard him still 
 wonder as they tell the tale. As a result of 
 studies of this sort, he won, not unjustly, the 
 highest titles; for some always called him poet, 
 others philosopher, and many theologian, while 
 he lived. But since victory is more glorious to 
 the victor in proportion as the strength of the 
 vanquished is greater, I judge it to be appro- 
 priate to show on what a surging and tem- 
 pestuous sea, tossed now here, now there, 
 vanquishing alike the waves and the contrary 
 winds, he came to the safe harbor of the illus- 
 trious titles already mentioned. 
 
Ill 
 
 DANTE'S LOVE FOR BEATRICE AND 
 HIS MARRIAGE 
 
 TU DIES are generally wont 
 to require solitude, freedom 
 from care, and tranquillity of 
 mind, and especially specu- 
 lative studies, to which our 
 Dante, as has been shown, 
 ^ave himself wholly up. In place of this free- 
 dom and quiet, almost from the beginning of his 
 life to the day of his death, Dante was the prey 
 of the fierce and unendurable passion of love; 
 he had a wife, public and private responsibili- 
 ties; he suffered exile and poverty. Letting 
 
44 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 pass other more special cares which these nec- 
 essarily brin^ with them, I deem it proper to 
 explain these burdens, that their weight may 
 be more evident. 
 
 In the season when the sweetness of heaven 
 reclothes the earth with its adornments, and 
 makes it smile with various kinds of flowers 
 among the green leaves, it was the custom in 
 our city for men and women to hold festival, 
 each in his own district and with his own friends. 
 Therefore, among others, it chanced that Folco 
 Portinari, a man much honored among his fel- 
 low citizens at that time, gathered his neigh- 
 bors together in his own house for a feast on the 
 first day of May. Among these was the afore- 
 said Alighieri, who was followed by Dante, 
 who had not yet finished his ninth year, even as 
 small boys are wont to follow their fathers, es- 
 pecially to places of festival. Here, mingling 
 with others of his own age (for there were many 
 such in the house of his host, both boys and 
 girls), the first tables being served, he gave 
 himself up to playing like a child with the 
 others, so far as his tender years permitted. 
 There was among the crowd of children a little 
 daughter of the aforesaid Folco, whose name 
 
LOVE AND MARRIAGE 45 
 
 was Bice (although he always called her by her 
 full name, that is, Beatrice), who was perhaps 
 ei^ht years old, very comely — for her a^e — 
 and very gentle and pleasing in her actions, 
 with ways and words more serious and modest 
 than her youth required; and besides this, with 
 features very delicate and well formed, and, fur- 
 ther, so full of beauty and of sweet winsomeness 
 that she was declared by many to be like a little 
 an^el. She, then, — such as I paint her and 
 perhaps even more beautiful — appeared at 
 this feast to the eyes of our Dante, — not, I be- 
 lieve, for the first time, but for the first time 
 with power to enamour him. And although a 
 mere boy, he received her sweet image in his 
 heart with such affection that from that day 
 forward it never departed thence while he 
 lived. At what hour this happened no one 
 knows; but (whether it was the likeness of 
 their temperaments or characters, or some spe- 
 cial influence of heaven having that effect; or, 
 as we know by experience in feasts, the sweet- 
 ness of the music, the common joy, the deli- 
 cacy of meats and wines, that make the hearts 
 of mature men — much more of youth — ex- 
 pand and become fit to be easily caught by 
 
46 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 whatever pleases them) this certainly hap- 
 pened, that Dante, at his tender age, became a 
 most fervent slave of love. Letting pass the 
 discussion of the trivial accidents of youth, I say 
 that with age the flames of his love increased, 
 so that nothing else was pleasure or repose or 
 comfort to him except seeing her. Leaving, 
 therefore, all else, he would go most assidu- 
 ously where he believed that he could see her, 
 as if from her face and eyes he must attain his 
 every happiness and complete consolation. 
 
 Oh, senseless judgment of lovers! Who 
 else but they would think by adding to the fuel 
 to make the flames less? What thoughts were 
 his, what sighs, what tears, and what other 
 grievous passions he suffered in later life for 
 this love, he himself in part shows us in his 
 New Life, and therefore I do not care to re- 
 count them more in detail. Only this I do not 
 wish to pass without mention, that, as he him- 
 self writes and as others to whom bis desire 
 was known report, his love was most virtuous, 
 nor did there ever appear, by look or word or 
 sign, any wanton appetite either in the lover or 
 in her whom he loved. This is no small 
 marvel to the world of to-day, from which all 
 
LOVE AND MARRIAGE 47 
 
 virtuous pleasure has so fled, and which is so 
 accustomed to having whatever pleases it con- 
 form to its lust, even before it has concluded 
 to love, that it has become a miracle, inasmuch 
 as it is the rarest of things, that one could 
 love otherwise. If so ^reat and so lasting 
 love could keep him from food, sleep, and all 
 manner of rest, what power must we think it 
 had as an adversary of his sacred studies and 
 his genius! No small power, certainly, al- 
 though many will have it that love incited his 
 genius, proving this by his graceful rhymes in 
 the Florentine idiom, which were made by him 
 in praise of his beloved lady and for the expres- 
 sion of his ardors and his amorous conceits; 
 but I can certainly not yield this without con- 
 ceding that ornate discourse is the principal 
 part of every science, which is not true. 
 
 As everyone can plainly understand, there 
 is nothing stable in this world, and if there be 
 anything that is easily changed, it is our life. 
 A little too much cold or heat, letting pass 
 numberless other accidents and possibilities, 
 brings us without difficulty from being to not 
 being; nor is gentility, riches, youth, or any 
 other mundane dignity exempt from this. The 
 
48 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 weight of this common law Dante must needs 
 learn by another's death before his own. The 
 beautiful Beatrice was nearly at the end of her 
 twenty-fourth year, when, as pleased Him who 
 is all-powerful, she left the anguish of this 
 world and departed to the ^lory which her own 
 merits had prepared for her. At her departure 
 Dante was left in such sorrow, ^rief, and tears 
 that many of those nearest him, both relatives 
 and friends, believed there would be no other 
 end to them except his death; and this they 
 thought must come quickly, seeing that he gave 
 ear to no comfort or consolation offered him. 
 The days were like the nights and the nights 
 the days; and no hour of either passed without 
 cries and sighs and a great quantity of tears. 
 His eyes seemed two copious fountains of flow- 
 ing water, so that most marveled whence he 
 acquired enough moisture to supply his weep- 
 ing. But, even as we see that passions by long 
 custom become easy to bear, and similarly that 
 in time all things diminish and perish, it hap- 
 pened that Dante in the course of several 
 months came to remember without tears that 
 Beatrice was dead; and with better judgment, 
 as sorrow gave place somewhat to reason, he 
 
LOVE AND MARRIAGE 49 
 
 came to recognize that neither weeping nor 
 si^hs nor anything else could restore to him his 
 lost lady. Therefore, with more patience, he 
 set himself to sustain the loss of her presence, 
 nor did much time pass after his tears were 
 stopped before his si^hs, which were even then 
 near their end, be^an in ^reat measure to de- 
 part and not return again. 
 
 He was, by his weeping and the pain that 
 his heart felt within him, and by his taking no 
 care of himself, become outwardly almost a 
 wild thing to look upon, lean, unshaven, and 
 almost completely transformed from what he 
 had been wont to be before; so that his as- 
 pect perforce made compassionate not only his 
 friends, but everyone who saw him; although 
 while this tearful life of his lasted, he let him- 
 self be seen but little by others than friends. 
 This compassion and their fear of the worst 
 made his relatives attentive to his comfort, 
 and when they saw his tears stop and dis- 
 covered that his sighs gave some relief to his 
 troubled heart, they began again to press on 
 the disconsolate lover the consolation so long 
 withheld. And he, who up to that time had 
 obstinately kept his ears shut to all consola- 
 
 4 
 
50 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 tion, now began not only to open them some- 
 what, but to listen willingly to that which was 
 said with regard to his comfort. Seeing this, 
 his relatives, in order that they might not only 
 withdraw him entirely from his grief, but bring 
 him back to joy again, took counsel together 
 with regard to giving him a wife, that, as his 
 lost lady had been the occasion of grief, so one 
 newly acquired might be the cause of gladness. 
 They found a young girl who was suitable for 
 his station, and with the arguments that ap- 
 peared to them most convincing they dis- 
 covered to him their intention. And that I 
 may not treat each point in detail, after a long 
 discussion and after considerable time, their 
 arguments were effective and he was married. 
 Oh, blind minds; oh, darkened intellects; 
 oh, vain reasoning of many mortals! How 
 often is the outcome in many matters contrary 
 to your advice, and oftenest without reason! 
 What sort of man would he be who, on pre- 
 tence of excessive heat, should take one away 
 from the sweet air of Italy to the burning 
 sands of Libya for refreshment, or to warm him 
 should take him from the Isle of Cyprus to the 
 eternal shades of the Rhodopean Mountains? 
 
LOVE AND MARRIAGE 51 
 
 What physician would endeavor to expel an 
 acute fever with fire, or a chill in the marrow 
 of one's bones with ice or snow? Certainly no 
 one, if not he who shall think by a bride to less- 
 en the tribulations of love. They who think 
 to do this do not understand the nature of love, 
 nor how it adds every other passion to itself. 
 In vain is aid or counsel pitted against its force 
 if it has once taken firm root in the heart of 
 one who has long loved. Even as at first the 
 slightest resistance is helpful, so in process of 
 time the stoutest is wont often to be harmful. 
 But it is time to return to our subject, and to 
 concede for the present that there may be 
 things which can avail to make one forget the 
 troubles of love. 
 
 What, however, has he done who, to relieve 
 me of an annoying thought, brings me others a 
 thousand times greater and more annoying? 
 Certainly nothing, if not that by adding to my 
 ills he has made me desire to return to those 
 from which he has drawn me, — a situation 
 which we often see occur in the case of many, 
 who, to escape or be drawn from trouble, 
 blindly marry or are married by others; nor do 
 they perceive that, escaping from one tangle. 
 
52 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 they have entered into a thousand, until ex- 
 perience proves it to them when they can no 
 longer change their minds and go back. His 
 relatives and friends gave Dante a wife, in 
 order that his tears for Beatrice might cease. 
 But I do not know whether, although his tears 
 passed away — or rather, perhaps, had passed 
 away, — the flame of love on that account 
 passed away. Indeed, I do not believe it; but, 
 granted that it was extinguished, new and 
 greater troubles could come upon him. Accus- 
 tomed to devote himself by night to his sacred 
 studies as often as was pleasing to him, he con- 
 versed and discussed with emperors, kings, 
 and all other most exalted princes of the earth, 
 and found pleasure in the most delightful poets, 
 calming his own sorrows by listening to theirs. 
 Now he is with them only so much as is 
 pleasing to his bride, and such time as she 
 wills to withdraw him from such high com- 
 pany he must spend in listening to womanish 
 conversation, which, if he would not increase 
 his annoyance, he must against his will not 
 only assent to but praise. Accustomed, when- 
 ever the vulgar crowd wearied him, to with- 
 draw himself into some solitary place, and 
 
LOVE AND MARRIAGE 53 
 
 there to speculate what spirit moves the 
 heaven, whence comes the life of all animals 
 on earth, and what are the causes of things; 
 or brood on rare conceits; or compose verses 
 whose fame should after his death make him 
 live to posterity, — he is now not only deprived 
 of all this sweet contemplation at the whim of 
 his bride, but he must needs have company ill 
 fitted for such practices. Accustomed freely 
 to laugh, to weep, to sing, or to sigh, accord- 
 ing as sweet or bitter passions moved him, he 
 now dares not to do so, and must give account 
 to his wife, not only of greater things but even 
 of the slightest sigh, showing what was its 
 origin, whence it came, and whither it went; 
 for she thinks his joy occasioned by love for 
 some one else; his sadness, by hate for her. 
 
 Oh, weariness not to be reckoned, that of 
 having to live, to converse, and finally grow old 
 and die with such a suspicious animal ! I let 
 pass the new and weighty troubles which must 
 be borne by those unaccustomed to them, es- 
 pecially in our city, namely, the providing of 
 clothing, ornaments, rooms full of superfluous 
 luxuries which women make themselves be- 
 lieve are necessary for living properly; the pro- 
 
 4* 
 
54 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 vidin^ of men-servants, and women-servants, 
 and nurses, and chambermaids; the providing 
 of dinners, and ^ifts, and the presents which 
 must be ^iven to brides' relatives, whom hus- 
 bands want their wives to think that they 
 love; and in addition other things which free 
 men never previously understand. I now come 
 to things which it is impossible to avoid. Who 
 doubts that people at large judge one's wife, as 
 to whether she is fair or not fair? If she be 
 reputed fair, who can doubt that she will at 
 once have many admirers, of whom one will 
 importunately attack her unstable heart by his 
 beauty, another by his rank, by wondrous flat- 
 tery, gifts, or pleasing manners? And that 
 which many desire is with difficulty protected 
 by one; and it is only necessary that women's 
 chastity should be once overtaken to make 
 them ever infamous and their husbands ever 
 unhappy. If by the ill-luck of him who leads 
 her to his house she be ugly, — we can plainly 
 see that men often enough and speedily tire 
 even of the fairest, — what then can we think of 
 such women if not that their husbands will hate 
 not only them but every place in which they 
 may be thought to be found by those who must 
 
LOVE AND MARRIAGE 55 
 
 have them always with them. Hence springs 
 their wrath ; nor is any wild beast fiercer or 
 so fierce as an an^ry woman ; nor can a man 
 be sure of his life who is committed to one 
 who thinks that she has reason to consider 
 herself wronged; and that they all think. 
 
 What shall I say of their ways? If I should 
 show how often and to what extent they are 
 inimical to the peace and repose of men, I 
 should extend my essay to too ^reat a length, 
 and therefore it is sufficient to mention one 
 trait common to almost all. They think that 
 ^ood conduct on the part of the lowest servant 
 is sufficient to retain him in a house and the 
 opposite to dismiss him. Therefore they think 
 that, if they themselves do well, their lot is 
 nothing else than that of a servant, and they 
 believe that they are ladies only when, notwith- 
 standing bad conduct, they are not like ser- 
 vants dismissed. Why should I state in detail 
 that which most of us know? I jud^e that it is 
 better to keep silence than to displease charm- 
 ing women by speaking. Who does not know 
 that everything which is bought is tried by the 
 purchaser before he buys it, except a wife, — 
 that he may see if she does not please him be- 
 
56 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 fore be takes her home? Whoever takes a wife 
 must needs have, not that which he wants, but 
 that which fortune grants him. And if what 
 has been said above is true (and he who has 
 experienced it knows), we can imagine what 
 sorrow is concealed in rooms which from with- 
 out, by those whose eyes cannot penetrate the 
 walls, are reputed places of joy. Of course, I 
 do not affirm that these things fell to Dante's 
 lot, for I do not know; although it is true that 
 either things of this sort or others must have 
 been the reason why, when he was once parted 
 from her who was given to him for the consola- 
 tion of his grief, he never would come where 
 she was, or suffer that she should come where 
 he was, although he had been by her the father 
 of several children. Let no one believe that by 
 what has been said above I would conclude 
 that men should not marry. On the contrary, 
 I recommend marriage, but not to all. Let 
 philosophers leave it to the rich and foolish, to 
 nobles and to peasants, and let them take their 
 delight with philosophy, a much better bride 
 than any. 
 
IV 
 
 DANTE'S FAMILY CARES, HONORS 
 AND EXILE 
 
 'T is the nature of temporal 
 things that one is the cause 
 of another. His family cares 
 drew Dante to cares of the 
 state, in which the vain 
 honors which are joined to 
 public offices so entangled him that, without 
 noticing whence he had started or where he 
 was going, he gave himself up almost entirely, 
 with loosened rein, to the government of the 
 state; and fortune was in. this so far favorable 
 to him that no embassy was heard or answered, 
 
58 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 no law passed or repealed, no peace made, no 
 war be^un, and, in short, no discussion of any 
 weight undertaken unless be first ^ave bis opin- 
 ion witb regard to it. In bim seemed to rest 
 tbe public faitb, in bim all bope, — in bim, in 
 sbort, all tbings, botb divine and buman. But 
 fortune, wbo overrides our plans and is tbe 
 enemy of all buman stability, tbou^b sbe bad 
 kept him some years, in power and ^lory, at tbe 
 top of her wheel, at last brought bim, when be 
 trusted her too much, to an end very different 
 from the be^innin^. 
 
 In his time tbe citizens of Florence were 
 perversely divided into two parties, each of 
 which was powerful through tbe efforts of its 
 acute and sagacious leaders; so that some- 
 times one and sometimes tbe other ruled tbe 
 city, against the desire of the defeated party. 
 On tbe plan of uniting tbe divided body of 
 bis republic, Dante brought to bear all bis 
 genius, art, and learning, showing to the clear- 
 est beaded citizens how great things in a 
 sbort time come to nought by discord, and 
 bow by concord small things increase infi- 
 nitely. But when be saw his trouble was with- 
 out avail, and recognized that the minds of his 
 
CARES, HONORS, AND EXILE 59 
 
 hearers were obstinate, believing it to be the 
 will of God, he first purposed to leave all 
 public offices and to live privately. Then, 
 drawn by the sweetness of ^lory, the empty 
 favor of the people, and the persuasions of 
 his elders, and believing further that, if the 
 time were favorable to him, he could effect 
 much more ^ood for his city if he were great 
 in public affairs than if he lived privately 
 and took no share in them (foolish desire for 
 worldly splendor, how much greater is thy 
 strength than one can believe who has not ex- 
 perienced it!), this mature man, brought up in 
 the holy bosom of philosophy, there nourished 
 and taught, before whose eyes was the fall of 
 ancient and modern kings, the desolation of 
 kingdoms, provinces, and cities, and the furi- 
 ous onsets of fortune, who seeks nothing else 
 than the highest, had not the knowledge or the 
 power to protect himself from thy charm. 
 
 Dante then decided to follow the fleeting 
 honors and vain pomp of public office ; and, 
 seeing that by himself he could not form a third 
 party, which by justice should defeat the injus- 
 tice of the other two, restoring them to unity, 
 attached himself to the party which in his judg- 
 
60 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 merit had most reason and justice on its side, 
 working continually for that which he knew to 
 be wholesome for the city and the citizens. 
 But the plans of man are most often defeated 
 by the power of heaven. Hatred and ani- 
 mosity were engendered, although without just 
 cause, and ^rew greater from day to day, so 
 that, to the great confusion of the citizens, men 
 often came to arms with the intention of put- 
 ting an end to their quarrel by fire and sword, 
 — so blinded were they by anger that they did 
 not see that they themselves must thus miser- 
 ably perish. But after each of the parties had 
 many times proved its strength with mutual 
 loss, the time came when the secret designs 
 of menacing fortune should be disclosed. 
 Rumor, who reports equally the false and the 
 true, announced that the adversaries of the 
 party espoused by Dante were strong in won- 
 drous and subtle plans and in a great multitude 
 of armed men. She thus so terrified the leaders 
 of Dante's colleagues that she deprived them of 
 all plan, forethought, and motive, except that of 
 seeking safety in flight. Together with them 
 Dante, degraded in a moment from the highest 
 places of rule in the city, saw himself not only 
 
CARES, HONORS, AND EXILE 61 
 
 fallen to earth, but thrust out. Not many days 
 after this, the mob having already rushed to 
 the houses of the exiles and madly gutted and 
 sacked them, the victors reorganized the city 
 according to their will, and all the leaders of 
 the opposite party, and with them Dante, not 
 as one of the less but as almost the chief, were, 
 as capital enemies of the republic, condemned 
 to perpetual exile, and their estates either con- 
 fiscated for the public benefit, or alienated to 
 the victors. 
 
 This reward Dante received for the tender 
 love he had for his country ! This reward 
 Dante received for his toil in trying to do away 
 with public discord ! This reward Dante re- 
 ceived for having at all costs sought the good, 
 the peace, and the tranquillity of his fellow-citi- 
 zens ! It must thus be plainly manifest how 
 empty of truth are the favors of the people and 
 what trust can be put in them. He in whom 
 but a little while before the city had placed its 
 faith and affection, who was the refuge of the 
 people, was now suddenly, without legitimate 
 cause, without crime or fault, by that Rumor 
 who had many times before been heard bear- 
 ing his praises to the stars, madly sent into ir- 
 
62 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 revocable exile. This was the marble statue 
 erected to the eternal memory of his virtue! 
 With these letters was his name inscribed on 
 tables of ^old amon^ those of the fathers of the 
 country! By a thus favorable report were 
 thanks returned him for his kindnesses! Who, 
 looking at these things, will say that our re- 
 public does not ^o lame on this foot ? 
 
 Oh, vain confidence of mortal men, by what 
 ^reat examples art thou continually reproved, 
 admonished, and chastised? Ah, if Camillus, 
 Rutilius, Coriolanus, both Scipios, and the 
 other ancient men of worth have escaped thy 
 memory through the length of time that has in- 
 tervened, this recent instance should make thee 
 run after thy pleasures in a more temperate 
 way. Nothing has less stability than the favor 
 of the people; no hope is more mad, no plan 
 more insane, than that which encourages one 
 to put his trust therein. Let then our hearts 
 be raised to heaven, in whose perpetual law, 
 in whose eternal splendors, in whose veritable 
 beauty can be recognized without obscurity the 
 stability of Him who rules both worlds by rea- 
 son, in order that, leaving transitory things, all 
 our hope may be directed to Him as to a fixed 
 ^oal, and we be not deceived. 
 
DANTE'S FLIGHT FROM FLORENCE 
 AND TRAVELS 
 
 'N such a manner, then, Dante 
 departed from the city of 
 which not only he was a citi- 
 zen but his ancestors were 
 the rebuilders, leaving there 
 his wife, together with the 
 rest of his family, whose youth ill fitted them 
 for flight. At ease about her, because of her 
 relationship to one of the chiefs of the other 
 party, but uncertain with regard to himself, he 
 wandered here and there through Tuscany. 
 A small portion of his property his wife had 
 with difficulty defended from the infuriated 
 people, under the title of her dowry, and on the 
 
64 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 proceeds of this she managed to provide very 
 plainly for herself and the little children. He, 
 therefore, was forced in poverty to win his sus- 
 tenance for himself by unaccustomed labor. 
 Oh, what honest indignation must he repress, 
 more bitter to him than death, while hope 
 promised him that his exile would be brief 
 and his return speedy. Against his expecta- 
 tion, however, he remained many years, leav- 
 ing Verona (where in the first years of his 
 flight he had ^one to Alberto della Scala, by 
 whom he had been kindly received), now with 
 Count Salvatico in the Casentino, now with 
 the Marquis Moruello Malaspina in Luni^i- 
 ana, now with the della Faggiuola in the moun- 
 tains near Urbino, suitably honored, so far as 
 the period and the means of his hosts permit- 
 ted. Then he went to Bologna, where he 
 stayed a little while, and then to Padua, and 
 then returned again to Verona. But after he 
 saw the way closed on all sides against his re- 
 turn, and his hopes grew more vain from day 
 to day, leaving not only Tuscany but all Italy, 
 he crossed the mountains which separate it 
 from the province of Gaul, as best he could, 
 and went to Paris. Here he gave himself up 
 
FLIGHT AND TRAVELS 65 
 
 entirely to the study of both philosophy and 
 theology, recalling also what of the other sci- 
 ences he had perchance lost by these impedi- 
 ments. And while he thus spent his time in 
 study, it happened, contrary to his expectation, 
 that Henry, Count of Luxemburg, was, at the 
 mandate and with the good will of Clement 
 V, who was then Pope, elected King of the 
 Romans, and then crowned Emperor. Dante, 
 hearing that he had left Germany to subjugate 
 Italy, which was in fact rebellious against his 
 majesty, and that he had already laid siege to 
 Brescia with powerful arm ; and expecting for 
 many reasons that the Emperor would be vic- 
 torious, he conceived the hope that through 
 the Emperor's power and justice he could re- 
 turn again to Florence, though he knew that 
 she was against the Emperor. Therefore, 
 crossing the Alps again, he joined the enemies 
 of the Florentines and their party, and by em- 
 bassies and letters tried to draw the Emperor 
 from the siege of Brescia, in order that he 
 should lay siege to Florence, as the chief of his 
 enemies, showing him that, if she were con- 
 quered, he would have little or no difficulty in 
 attaining free and unimpeded possession and 
 5 
 
66 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 power over all Italy. But although he and 
 others with the same purpose succeeded in 
 drawing the Emperor thither, his coming did 
 not have the result they expected. The resist- 
 ance was vigorous, and much greater than they 
 had anticipated. Wherefore, without having 
 accomplished anything in particular, the Em- 
 peror departed almost in despair, and turned 
 his way towards Rome. And although in one 
 direction and another he accomplished much, 
 brought about order, and planned to do more, 
 his too sudden death put an end to everything. 
 At this, in general, those who bad expectations 
 by him became discouraged, and especially 
 Dante, who, without making further efforts re- 
 garding his return, passed over the Apennines 
 and went into Romagna, where his last day, 
 which was to put an end to all his troubles, 
 awaited him. 
 
 In those days there was Lord of Ravenna, a 
 famous and ancient city of Romagna, a noble 
 knight, whose name was Guido Novello da Po- 
 lenta. Trained in liberal studies, he paid high 
 honors to men of worth and especially those 
 who surpassed others in knowledge. When it 
 came to his ears that Dante, beyond all expec- 
 
FLIGHT AND TRAVELS 67 
 
 tation, — for he had lon^ before recognized his 
 worth by repute, — was in Romagna in great 
 despair, he decided to receive and honor him. 
 Nor did he wait for this to be asked of him. 
 With a liberal mind, reflecting how men of 
 worth must feel shame in asking favors, he ap- 
 proached him with proffers, asking of Dante 
 as a special favor that which he knew Dante 
 must ask of him — that is, that he would be 
 pleased to reside with him. The two desires, 
 that of the asker and him who was asked, thus 
 concurring in the same end, and Dante being 
 extremely pleased at the liberality of the noble 
 knight, and on the other hand necessity con- 
 straining him, — without awaiting more invita- 
 tions than one, he went to Ravenna, where he 
 was honorably received by the knight, who 
 revived with kindly encouragement his failing 
 hopes, gave him in abundance all that was fit- 
 ting, and kept him there for many years, — in- 
 deed, to the end of his life. 
 
 Not desires of love, nor tears of grief, nor 
 household cares, nor the tempting glory of pub- 
 lic office, nor miserable exile, nor intolerable 
 poverty, could by their power ever divert Dante 
 from his principal intent — that is, his sacred 
 
68 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 studies. For, as will be seen afterwards when 
 his works are treated separately, in the midst 
 of the fiercest passions mentioned above, he 
 will be found to have exercised himself in com- 
 position. And if in spite of such adversaries, 
 the number and character of which have been 
 stated above, he by force of intellect and perse- 
 verance became as illustrious as we see him to 
 be, what could be hoped that he would have 
 become if he had had as much to help him, or 
 nothing working against him, or very few hin- 
 drances, as many have? Surely, I do not 
 know, but if it were proper to say so, I should 
 say that he would have become a god on earth. 
 
VI 
 
 HIS DEATH AND FUNERAL HONORS 
 
 'ANTE, then, lived for many 
 years in Ravenna, — all hope 
 of ever returning to Florence 
 lost, although the desire was 
 not lost, — under the protec- 
 tion of this gracious lord; and 
 here by his teachings trained many scholars in 
 poetry, and especially in the vulgar tongue, 
 which, according to my judgment, he was the 
 first to exalt and make esteemed among us 
 Italians, precisely as Homer made his tongue 
 esteemed among the Greeks and Virgil his 
 among the Latins. Before him, although it 
 is true that it had been invented a short space 
 of time previously, there was no one who had 
 
70 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 the feeling and the hardihood to make the lan- 
 ^ua^e the instrument of any artistic material 
 by numbering of syllables and the consonance 
 of the extreme outward parts ; rather they only 
 exercised themselves in it on love trifles. He 
 showed by his results that any hi^h material 
 could be treated in it, and made our vulvar 
 tongue glorious above all others. 
 
 But since the allotted hour cometh to all, 
 having in the middle or thereabout of his fifty- 
 sixth year fallen sick, and having received all 
 the sacraments of the Church, according to the 
 Christian religion, humbly and with devotion, 
 and reconciled himself with God in contrition 
 for all that he had committed against His 
 will as a mortal, in the month of September 
 in the year of Christ MCCCXXI, on the day 
 that the exaltation of the holy cross is cele- 
 brated by the Church, to the ^reat sorrow of 
 the aforesaid Guido and of all the other citi- 
 zens of Ravenna generally, he rendered up to 
 his Creator his wearied spirit, which, I doubt 
 not, was received in the arms of his noble Bea- 
 trice, with whom, in the si^ht of Him who is 
 the highest ^ood, all the miseries of the pres- 
 ent life left behind, he now lives most joyfully in 
 
DEATH AND FUNERAL HONORS 71 
 
 that life to whose happiness there shall be 
 no end. 
 
 The generous knight had the dead, body of 
 Dante placed upon a funeral bier adorned with 
 poetic insignia, and this he had borne upon the 
 shoulders of the most illustrious citizens to the 
 place of the Lesser Friars in Ravenna, with the 
 honor that he thought due to such a body. 
 When it had been followed thither as it were 
 by public lamentation, he had it placed in the 
 stone coffin in which it still lies. And return- 
 ing to the house in which Dante had lived, he 
 himself, according to the custom in Ravenna, 
 made a lon^ and eloquent address, both to com- 
 mend the hi^h learning and virtue of the de- 
 ceased and to console the friends whom he 
 had left behind him in this life of sorrow. He 
 also purposed, if bis life and estate had lasted, 
 to honor him with such a distinguished tomb 
 that, if nothing else Dante had done had ren- 
 dered him memorable to posterity, this would 
 have done so. 
 
 This praiseworthy proposal was made known 
 in a brief space of time to many who at that time 
 were distinguished poets in Romagna, so that 
 each one, both to show his own skill and to bear 
 
72 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 witness to the ^ood will borne by them to the 
 dead poet, and to win the favor and love of their 
 lord, who they knew desired it, wrote verses 
 which, placed as an epitaph on the proposed 
 tomb, would, with appropriate praise, indicate 
 to posterity who lay therein. These poems they 
 sent to the noble lord, who, by^reat misfortune, 
 lost his estate, and not long after died at Bo- 
 logna, for which reason both the making of the 
 tomb and the inscribing on it of the verses sent 
 him were left undone. These verses were shown 
 to me long afterwards, and seeing that they 
 were not used through the accident already 
 mentioned, and thinking that what I am now 
 writing, although not a material tomb, still may 
 serve, as that would have served, to preserve 
 his memory forever, I judged it to be not inap- 
 propriate to add them here. But inasmuch as 
 only one of those which were written (and they 
 were many) would have been inscribed on the 
 marble, so only one of them here is it, I think, 
 necessary to insert. Wherefore, having exam- 
 ined them all, I find the most worthy in form 
 and sense to be fourteen verses by Master Gio- 
 vanni del Virgilio of Bologna, then a great and 
 famous poet and an intimate friend of Dante. 
 
DEATH AND FUNERAL HONORS 73 
 The verses are these: 
 
 Theolo^us Dantes, nullius dogmatis expers, 
 
 Quod foveat claro philosophia sinu: 
 Gloria musarum, vul^o ^ratissimus auctor, 
 
 Hie iacet, et fama pulsat utrumque polum: 
 Qui loca defunctis ^ladiis re^numque ^emellis 
 
 Distribuit, laicis rhetoricisque modis. 
 Pascua Pieriis demum resonabat avenis; 
 
 Atropos heu letum livida rupit opus. 
 Huic ingrata tulit tristem Florentia fructum, 
 
 Exilium, vati patria cruda suo. 
 Quern pia Guidonis premio Ravenna Novelli 
 
 Gaudet honorati continuisse ducis, 
 Mille trecentenis ter septum Numinis annis, 
 
 Ad sua septembris idibus astra redit. 
 
 [Dante, the theologian, unversed in no teaching that Phi- 
 losophy may cherish in her illustrious bosom, the glory of 
 the Muses, an author most pleasing to the people, lies 
 here, his fame reaching either pole. To the dead he as- 
 signed their places and their realm, with twin swords, in laic 
 and rhetoric modes. Lastly, the pastures he made resound 
 with the poet's reeds. Black Atropos, alas, put an end to 
 the joyful task. For him ungrateful Florence, harsh mother 
 to her bard, bore the sad fruit of exile. Him kindly Ravenna 
 rejoices to have held in the bosom of herhonored lord. Guido 
 Novello. In the year of God one thousand three hundred 
 and thrice seven years, on the Ides of September, he re- 
 turned to his stars.] 
 
VII 
 THE FLORENTINES REPROACHED 
 
 'H, ungrateful country, what 
 madness, what forgetfulness 
 possessed thee, when with 
 unaccustomed cruelty thou 
 didst put to flight thy dearest 
 citizen, thine eminent bene- 
 factor, thine only poet? Or what possessed 
 thee subsequently? If, perchance, thou excus- 
 est thyself by the general madness of the 
 moment, induced by evil counsel, why, when 
 anger had passed away, and tranquillity of mind 
 was restored, didst thou not repent of the deed 
 and recall him? Ah, be not loth to reason some- 
 what with me, thy son, and take that which just 
 
THE FLORENTINES REPROACHED 75 
 
 indignation makes me say as from a man that 
 desires that thou amend, and not that thou be 
 punished. Does it seem to thee that thou hast 
 such titles to ^lory that thou shouldst have de- 
 liberately hunted from thee one the like of 
 whom no neighbor city can boast? Ah, tell 
 me, with what victories, what triumphs, what 
 excellencies, what valorous citizens thou art 
 resplendent? Thy riches — things unstable 
 and uncertain; thy beauties — things fragile and 
 failing; thy delicacy — thin^ blameworthy and 
 feminine, have made thee known in the false 
 judgment of peoples, which always looks more 
 to appearance than to reality. Wilt thou ^lory 
 in thy merchants and in the artists with whom 
 thou dost abound? Thou wilt do foolishly. 
 The one by constant avarice plies a servile 
 trade. Art, which was once ennobled by ge- 
 niuses, in that they made it a second nature, is 
 now itself corrupted by avarice, and is value- 
 less. Wilt thou ^lory in the cowardice and 
 sloth of those who, because that they recall 
 their many ancestors, would ^ain from thee 
 headship of the nobility, ever by robbery and 
 treachery and falsity? Vain ^lory shall be thine 
 and thou shalt be scorned by those whose 
 
76 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 judgments have a proper basis and real stabil- 
 ity. Ah, wretched mother, open thy eyes and 
 see with some remorse what thou didst; and 
 be ashamed at least that, reputed wise as thou 
 art, thou hast made a false choice in thy faults ! 
 If thou hadst not such counsel in thyself, why 
 didst thou not imitate the acts of those cities 
 who are still famous for their praiseworthy 
 works? Athens, which was one of the eyes of 
 Greece, while she was the monarch of the 
 world, alike splendid in knowledge, eloquence, 
 and warfare; Ar^os still glorious by the titles 
 of her kin^s; Smyrna, ever revered by us for 
 Nicholas her bishop; Pylos, renowned for the 
 a^ed Nestor; Chyme, Chios, and Colophon, 
 splendid cities of the past, were all, while 
 they were most glorious, not ashamed of the 
 divine poet Homer, nor hesitated to dispute 
 sharply over his origin, each affirming that he 
 was drawn from her; and each made her claim 
 so strong by argument that the dispute still 
 lasts, nor is it certain whence he was, inasmuch 
 as all ^lory so equally in such a citizen. And 
 Mantua, our neighbor — from what else has 
 more fame come to her than from the fact that 
 Virgil, whose name they still revere, was a 
 
THE FLORENTINES REPROACHED 11 
 
 Mantuan; and be is so acceptable to all tbat 
 his image is not only in public but also in many 
 private places, sbowing that, notwithstanding 
 that his father was a potter, he has been the 
 ennobler of them all. Sulmona glories in Ovid, 
 Venosa in Horace, Aquino in Juvenal, and 
 many others, each in her son, and claims her 
 right to him. The example of these cities it 
 was no shame for thee to follow, since it is not 
 probable that without reason they would have 
 been so fondly tender of such citizens. They 
 knew that which thou thyself couldst know and 
 canst; namely, that the unceasing influence of 
 such sons would, even after their ruin, still 
 keep their names eternal, even as at present, 
 spread through all the world, it makes them 
 known to men who have never seen them. 
 Thou alone, in the shadow of I know not what 
 blindness, hast willed to follow another course, 
 and, as if illustrious in thyself, hast not cared 
 for this splendor. Thou alone, as if the Camilli, 
 the Publicoli, the Torquati, the Fabricii, the 
 Fabii, the Catos, and the Scipios had been of 
 thee and by their magnificent deeds had made 
 thee famous, not only hast let thy ancient citi- 
 zen Claudian fall from thy hands, hast not 
 
78 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 taken care of the present poet, but hast chased 
 him from thee, banished him, and would have 
 deprived him, if thou couldst, of thy name. I 
 cannot escape bein^ shamed in thy behalf. But 
 lo ! not fortune, but the natural course of things 
 has been so far favorable to thy unworthy de- 
 sire, that what thou in brutal eagerness wouldst 
 have of thyself done if he bad fallen in thy 
 hands, — that is, killed him, — it has accom- 
 plished by its eternal law. Dead is thy Dante 
 Alighieri in that exile to which, envious of his 
 worth, thou unjustly condemned him. Oh, 
 crime unmentionable, that thou, a mother, 
 bearest ill will to the virtues of a son of thine. 
 Now, then, art thou free from care; now 
 through his death thou livest secure in thy 
 faults, and canst put an end to thy lon^ and 
 unjust persecutions. He cannot do against thee 
 dead that which living he never would have 
 done. He sleeps under another sky than thine, 
 nor mayst thou think ever to see him more, ex- 
 cept on that day in which thou shalt see all thy 
 citizens, and their sins weighed and punished 
 by a just judge. 
 
 If, then, hatred, anger, and ill feeling cease, 
 as may well be thought, at the death of every 
 
THE FLORENTINES REPROACHED 79 
 
 one, be^in to return to thyself and to thy ri^ht 
 mind ; be^in to be ashamed of having acted con- 
 trary to thy ancient humanity; begin to wish to 
 appear a mother and no longer a foe; pay thy 
 son his debt of tears; yield him thy maternal 
 pity; and desire to recover him dead whom 
 thou didst refuse, nay rather expel as a sus- 
 pect, when alive; restore to his memory thy 
 citizenship, thy bosom, thy grace. In truth, 
 however ungrateful and insolent thou wert 
 towards him, ever as a son he held thee in rev- 
 erence, and never would deprive thee of the 
 honor that should come to thee through his 
 works, as thou didst deprive him of thy citizen- 
 ship. Always he called himself a Florentine, 
 though his exile was long, and desired so to be 
 called; always preferred thee to every other; 
 always loved thee. What, then, wilt thou do? 
 Wilt thou ever persist in thy iniquity? Shall 
 there be less humanity in thee than in the bar- 
 barians, whom we find not only demanding 
 back the bodies of their dead, but ready to die 
 like men for the sake of possessing them. Thou 
 wishest that the world believe thee the grand- 
 daughter of Troy the famous, and daughter of 
 Rome: surely children should resemble their 
 
80 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 fathers and grandfathers. Priam, in his ^rief, 
 not only demanded back the body of the dead 
 Hector, but bought it back with much ^old. 
 The Romans, as some believe, brought from 
 Miturnum the bones of the first Scipio, which 
 he had at his death with good reason forbid- 
 den them. And, although Hector was by his 
 prowess long the defence of the Trojans, and 
 Scipio the liberator not only of Rome but of 
 all Italy, — of which services neither could 
 properly be credited to Dante, — Dante is 
 not therefore to be neglected; never yet have 
 not arms given place to learning. If thou didst 
 not at first, and when it would have been most 
 fitting, imitate the example and the deeds of 
 the wise cities, now amend and follow them. 
 There was none of the seven aforesaid who did 
 not erect for Homer a real or a feigned tomb. 
 And who doubts that the Mantuans, who still 
 honor the fields and poor cottage in Piettola 
 that were Virgil's, would not have erected him 
 an honorable tomb if Octavian Augustus, who 
 had transported his bones from Brindisi to 
 Naples, had not ordered that they should for- 
 ever remain where he had placed them? Sul- 
 mona long grieved for nothing else than that 
 
THE FLORENTINES REPROACHED 81 
 
 the island of Pontus held in a certain spot her 
 Ovid; and Parnna likewise rejoices in her pos- 
 session of Cassius. Seek thou also to be the 
 guardian of thy Dante. Beg him back. Show 
 thy humanity, even if thou hast not the desire 
 to regain him. By this fiction rid thyself of the 
 blame that thou didst long ago acquire. Beg 
 him back. I am sure that he will not be re- 
 stored to thee, and thou canst show thyself kind 
 and at the same time delight, not recovering 
 him, in thy innate cruelty. But to what do I 
 encourage thee! I scarcely believe, if dead 
 bodies had feeling, that of Dante could depart 
 from where it is, to return to thee. He lies with 
 company far more honorable than that which 
 thou couldst give him. He lies in Ravenna, in 
 age far more venerable than thou ; and although 
 her antiquity renders her somewhat ugly, she 
 was in her youth far more flourishing than 
 thou. She is almost one general tomb of holy 
 bodies, nor can one step without treading on 
 venerable ashes. Who, then, would desire to 
 return to thee, to lie among thy ashes, which 
 may be thought still to preserve the rage and 
 iniquity that were theirs in life, and, at ill 
 accord, to flee one from another, as did the 
 6 
 
82 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 flames of the two Thebans? And, although Ra- 
 venna once was almost bathed in the precious 
 blood of many martyrs, and to-day with rever- 
 ence preserves their relics, and likewise the 
 bodies of many magnificent emperors and 
 others illustrious by their ancient race and their 
 virtuous deeds, she rejoices not a little in hav- 
 ing been granted by God, besides her other 
 ^ifts, the privilege of bein^ the perpetual guar- 
 dian of such a treasure as is the body of him 
 whose works hold the whole world in admira- 
 tion, and of whom thou hast not been worthy. 
 But surely the joy of having him is not so ^reat 
 as the envy that she bears thee because thou 
 hast the ri^ht to his birth, almost disdaining the 
 fact that she will be remembered for his last 
 days, while beside her thou wilt be named for 
 bis first. Wherefore remainest thou in thy in- 
 gratitude, and allowest ^lad Ravenna to ^lory 
 forever in thy honors? 
 
vili 
 
 DANTE'S APPEARANCE, USAGES, AND HABITS 
 
 UCH as I have described 
 above was the end of Dante's 
 life, worn by various studies; 
 and since I appear to have 
 described sufficiently his 
 love, his domestic and pub- 
 lic cares, his miserable exile, and his end, in 
 accordance with my promise, I deem it now 
 proper to ^o on to speak of his bodily stature, 
 of his habits, and in general of the more note- 
 worthy customs which he observed in his life, 
 passing immediately from these to his works 
 which are worthy of note, composed by him in 
 
84 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 bis day — a day troubled by sucb a wbirlwind 
 as has briefly been shown above. 
 
 Our poet, then, was of moderate stature, 
 and after he came to a mature age walked 
 somewhat bent, and his gait was grave and 
 gentle; he was always dressed in good clothes 
 of a fashion appropriate to his years. His face 
 was long, his nose aquiline, his eyes rather 
 large than small, his jaws large, and his lower 
 lip protruded over the upper. His complexion 
 was dark, his hair and beard thick, black and 
 curling, and his expression was melancholy and 
 thoughtful. It happened, therefore, one day 
 at Verona, — when the fame of his works was 
 already widely spread, and especially that part 
 of his Comedy which he entitles Hell, and 
 when he was known by many, both men and 
 women, — that, passing before a door where 
 many women were sitting, one of them said 
 softly to the others, — but not, however, so 
 softly that she was not clearly heard by him 
 and those who were with him, — " See the man 
 who goes to hell, and returns when he pleases, 
 and brings back news of those that are below." 
 To which one of the others responded naively, 
 " Indeed, thou must speak the truth. Dost 
 
APPEARANCE AND HABITS 85 
 
 thou not see bow his beard is crisped and bis 
 complexion browned by the heat and smoke 
 that is below ?" Hearing these words said be- 
 hind him, and knowing that they came from 
 the simple belief of the women, he was pleased, 
 and passed on, smiling a little, as if content that 
 they thought so. In his domestic and public 
 habits he was admirably orderly and self-con- 
 tained, and in all he was more courteous and 
 civil than others. In food and drink he was 
 abstemious, both in taking them at regular 
 hours, and in not ^oin^ beyond need in taking 
 them ; nor did he have any special taste for one 
 thing more than for another. He praised deli- 
 cate viands, but for the most part ate of plain 
 food, condemning strongly those who made 
 great efforts to get choice things and have them 
 prepared with great care, declaring that such 
 eat not to live, but rather live to eat. No one 
 kept more vigils than he, whether wrestling 
 with his studies or anxiety, so that many times 
 his family and his wife were disturbed at it, 
 until they grew used to his ways and paid no 
 attention to it. He rarely spoke when not 
 questioned, and then thoughtfully and in a tone 
 appropriate to the matter of which he spoke. 
 
86 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 When it was necessary, however, he was elo- 
 quent and fluent, and with excellent and ready 
 delivery. 
 
 In his youth he was exceedingly fond of 
 music and singing, and he was friend and com- 
 panion of every one of the best singers and play- 
 ers of those times. Often he was incited by 
 his love for music to compose poems, which he 
 had them clothe in pleasing and masterly mel- 
 ody. How fervently he was subject to love 
 has already been clearly shown, and it is the 
 firm belief of all that this love incited his genius 
 to become a poet in the vulgar tongue, — first 
 through imitation; afterwards, through a de- 
 sire for glory and to set forth his emotions more 
 impressively, he took great pains in composi- 
 tion, and not only surpassed all his contempo- 
 raries, but so clarified and beautified the Italian 
 tongue that he made many then and after him 
 (and still shall make them) expert in verse or 
 desirous of becoming so. He was especially 
 fond of being alone, and at a distance from peo- 
 ple, in order that his contemplation might not 
 be interrupted, and if any thought that greatly 
 pleased him came to him while he was in com- 
 pany, no matter what was asked him, he would 
 
APPEARANCE AND HABITS 87 
 
 never respond to the questioner until bis ima- 
 gination had either accepted or rejected this 
 thought. This happened many times, when he 
 was questioned while at table or journeying in 
 company, or elsewhere. 
 
 In bis studies be was most assiduous, both 
 in regard to the time which he ^ave up to them 
 and in the fact that no news that he beard could 
 withdraw his attention from them. It is cred- 
 ibly reported of this habit of his of ^ivin^ him- 
 self up entirely to whatever pleased him, that 
 once upon a time he was in Siena, and hap- 
 pening by chance to be in an apothecary's shop, 
 a book which had been promised him and 
 which was famous amon^ experts, but which 
 he had never seen, was brought him. Not 
 having by chance leisure to take it elsewhere, 
 he leaned bis breast against a bench in front of 
 the apothecary's, and put the book there, and 
 began eagerly to look at it. And although a 
 little after, in the district just before him, on 
 account of some great celebration of the Sien- 
 cse, a grand tournament of young gentlemen 
 was begun and carried out, and therewith by- 
 standers made a great deal of noise (as they 
 are accustomed in such cases to do, with ap- 
 
88 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 plauditi^ cries and various instruments), and 
 although other things enough happened to 
 withdraw the attention of any one else, — danc- 
 ing, for instance, by fair women and many 
 sports of youth, — there was no one who saw 
 him stir thence or once lift his eyes from the 
 book. Rather, it was about the hour of nones 
 when he took up his position there, and it was 
 after vespers, and he bad read it all and got the 
 gist of it before he arose from it. Afterwards, 
 he affirmed to some who asked him how he 
 could keep from looking at such a fine celebra- 
 tion as was carried on in front of him, that he 
 had heard nothing of it, and thus, to the ques- 
 tioners, a second cause for wonder was not 
 improperly added to the first. 
 
 This poet was also of marvelous capacity, 
 retentive memory, and penetrating intellect, — 
 so much so that, being in Paris, and there 
 maintaining, in a disputation de quolibet which 
 was held in the schools of theology, fourteen 
 theses of various kinds, brought forward by 
 various worthy men, he without a break col- 
 lected the arguments pro and con, and recited 
 them in the same order in which they were 
 given, acutely analyzing and replying to the 
 
APPEARANCE AND HABITS 89 
 
 contrary arguments, — a feat which was reputed 
 almost a miracle by all the bystanders. He 
 had also a lofty genius and likewise acute 
 powers of invention, as his works make more 
 manifest than my description can to those who 
 understand them. He was eager for honor and 
 glory, — perchance more eager than was befit- 
 ting his exalted virtue. But what then? What 
 life is so humble that it is not touched by the 
 sweetness of glory? It was on account of this 
 desire, I believe, that he loved poetry more 
 than any other study, seeing that, although 
 philosophy surpasses all the others in nobility, 
 its excellence can be communicated only to a 
 few, and many are famous throughout the world 
 for distinction in it; whereas poetry is more 
 apparent and delightful to every one, but poets 
 are rare. He hoped, moreover, through poetry 
 to attain to the rare and distinguished honor of 
 being crowned with the laurel, and thus gave 
 himself up to study and composition. His de- 
 sire would certainly have been fulfilled if for- 
 tune had been so gracious to him as to allow 
 him ever to return to Florence, where he was 
 minded to be crowned at the font of S. John, 
 in order that here, where he had received his 
 
90 
 
 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 first name in baptism, be sbould receive bis 
 second in coronation. But tbin^s turned out so 
 tbat, altbougb bis title was clear, and be could 
 bave bad anywbere else tbat it pleased him 
 tbe bonor of taking tbe laurel (which, though 
 it does not increase knowledge, is its ornament 
 and a sure token of its acquisition), in bis de- 
 sire to return where he could never be, be was 
 unwilling to take it elsewhere, and so died with- 
 out the much desired honor. But inasmuch as 
 frequent question is made by readers, what is 
 poetry and what are poets, and whence the word 
 comes, and why poets are crowned with the 
 laurel, and these matters seem to have been 
 explained by few, it seems to me right to make 
 a digression here, in which I shall to some ex- 
 tent make this clear, returning as soon as pos- 
 sible to my theme. 
 
IX 
 
 DIGRESSION WITH REGARD TO POETRY 
 
 HE early races in the early 
 centuries, although they were 
 very crude and uncultivated, 
 were exceedingly ardent to 
 find out the truth by study, 
 even as we see now each one 
 naturally desiring this. Seeing the heaven 
 moved continually in accordance with fixed 
 laws, and earthly things with their fixed order 
 and various functions at various times, they 
 thought that there must necessarily be some- 
 thing from which these things proceeded, and 
 which, as a superior power, governed all the 
 other things and was not governed itself. And 
 
92 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 after diligent thought they imagined that this 
 thin^, which they called divinity or deity, was 
 to be venerated and honored with more than 
 human service. Therefore they built, in rever- 
 ence of the name of this ^reat power, lar^e and 
 distinguished edifices. They thought that these 
 should be separated by name as they were in 
 form from those in which men generally lived, 
 and they called them temples. Similarly they 
 appointed various ministers, who were sacred 
 and relieved from all worldly care, and could 
 devote themselves entirely to the service of the 
 gods, and were in maturity and age and habits 
 more respected than other men; these they 
 called priests. Furthermore, they made, in 
 representation of the imagined divine essence, 
 magnificent statues of various forms, and for 
 its service vessels of gold and marble tables 
 and purple vestments and all other appliances 
 pertaining to sacrifices established for them. 
 And in order that to so great a power a silent 
 and, as it were, a mute honor might not be paid, 
 it appeared to them that they should humble 
 themselves before it with words of lofty sound, 
 and render it propitious to their necessities. 
 And as they thought that this power exceeded 
 
WITH REGARD TO POETRY 93 
 
 everything else in nobility, they were desirous 
 that they should find words of speech far from 
 the ordinary plebeian or public style, and wor- 
 thy of the divinity, in which they could express 
 their sacred laudations. Furthermore, in order 
 that these words mi^ht appear to have more 
 efficacy, they desired that they should be com- 
 posed according to laws of rhythm, by which 
 pleasure mi^ht be felt and resentment and an- 
 noyance removed. And it was clearly appropri- 
 ate that this should be done, not in a vulvar or 
 accustomed form of speech, but in a form 
 artificial, exquisite, and new. This form the 
 Greeks called poetes; hence it arose that that 
 which was made in this form was called po- 
 esisf and they who made or used such a form 
 of speaking were called poets. This, then, 
 was the first origin of the name of poetry, and 
 consequently of poets, and although others 
 have other reasons for it, and perhaps good 
 ones, this pleases me most. 
 
 This good and praiseworthy idea of that 
 crude age moved many to various devices, as 
 the world grew through knowledge, and while 
 the early people honored one deity alone, their 
 successors believed there were many, although 
 
94 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 they said that one held the primacy over the 
 others. These many deities they thought were 
 the sun, the moon, Saturn, Jove, and each of 
 the other seven planets, and they proved the 
 deity of these by their influence. And hence 
 they came to show that everything was a deity 
 that was useful to men, even if it were an 
 earthly thin^, like fire and water and earth and 
 the like, and to all these they paid honor and 
 made verses and established sacrifices. Then 
 various men in various places, one by one tal- 
 ent and one by another, be^an successively to 
 gain power over the unlearned multitude of 
 their districts, deciding rude disputes not ac- 
 cording to written law, for they had none yet, 
 but according to a natural sense of justice, with 
 which one was more endowed than another, 
 and, being more enlightened by nature itself, 
 giving order to their lives and customs, and 
 resisting by bodily force any opposition that 
 might arise. They began also to call them- 
 selves kings, and to show themselves to the 
 people with slaves and ornaments not hitherto 
 used by men, and to make themselves obeyed, 
 and lastly to make themselves worshiped. 
 This, provided there was one who had con- 
 
WITH REGARD TO POETRY 95 
 
 ceived the idea, came about without much dif- 
 ficulty, because to such crude peoples seeing 
 them thus, they seemed not men but ^ods. 
 These men, not trusting too much to their 
 strength, be^an to augment religion, and by 
 faith in it to frighten their subjects and to bind 
 with sacraments to obedience those whom they 
 could not have bound by force. And further- 
 more they took care to deify their fathers, their 
 grandfathers, and their ancestors, in order that 
 they should be more feared and held in rev- 
 erence by the people. These things could not 
 easily be done without the office of poets, 
 who helped them by spreading their fame, by 
 pleasing the princes, by delighting their sub- 
 jects, and by persuading all to act virtuously. 
 That which if spoken openly would have de- 
 feated their ends, but which the princes wished 
 to have believed, they made the people believe 
 by various masterly fictions, — hardly under- 
 stood by the vulgar now, not to say then. Both 
 for the new gods and the men who pretended to 
 be the descendants of gods, they used the same 
 style that early peoples had used only for the 
 worship of the true God and for lauding Him. 
 Then they came to make the deeds of strong 
 

 96 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 men equal to those of the ^ods, and thence 
 arose the practice of celebrating in exalted 
 verse battles and other notable deeds of men 
 mingled with those of the gods, which both was 
 and is to-day, together with the other things 
 mentioned before, the office and practice of all 
 poets. And since many do not believe that 
 poetry is anything else but the telling of fables, 
 it pleases me — going beyond my plan — to 
 show here briefly that it is theology, before 
 that I come to tell why poets are crowned with 
 laurel. 
 
 If we would put our minds to it, and look at 
 it rationally, I believe that we could easily see 
 that the ancient poets followed, so far as it is 
 possible to human genius, the steps of the Holy 
 Spirit, which, as we see in the divine Scripture, 
 by the mouths of many revealed to times to 
 come its highest secrets, making them utter 
 under a veil that which at the proper time it in- 
 tended to show, by works, without a veil. Inas- 
 much as the poets, if we regard well theirworks, 
 in order that the imitator might not seem dif- 
 ferent from the model imitated, under cover of 
 some fiction describe that which had been, or 
 was at that time, or which they desired or which 
 
WITH REGARD TO POETRY 97 
 
 they supposed should happen in the future, — 
 therefore, although the two forms of writing do 
 not look to the same end, but only to a single 
 method of treatment (which most occupies my 
 mind at present), to both may be given the same 
 praise, using the words of Gregory, who said of 
 the Holy Scripture that which may still be said 
 of poetry; namely, that it in the same narrative 
 passage reveals the text and a mystery under- 
 neath it. It then at once with one exercises the 
 wise and with the other comforts the simple ; it 
 has in public whence to nourish children, and in 
 secret serves this end, that it holds the minds 
 of lofty thinkers rapt in admiration. It there- 
 fore appears to be a river, if I may so say, gentle 
 and deep, in which the little lamb may wade 
 and the great elephant may easily swim. But 
 it is proper to proceed to the verification of the 
 statement laid down. 
 
THE DIFFERENCE THAT EXISTS BETWEEN 
 POETRY AND THEOLOGY 
 
 HE divine Scripture, which 
 we call theology, sometimes 
 under ^uise of history, some- 
 times as if by a vision, some- 
 times in the form of a lament, 
 or in other manners, endeav- 
 ors to show us the hi^h mystery of the incar- 
 nation of the Divine Word, His life, the events 
 which led to His death, glorious resurrection, 
 and wonderful ascension, and all His other 
 acts, through which we, taught by Him, may 
 attain to that ^lory which He by His death and 
 resurrection opened for us, after it had been 
 
POETRY AND THEOLOGY 99 
 
 lon^ closed to us by the sin of the first man. 
 So poets in their works, which we call poetry, 
 sometimes by fictions of various ^ods, some- 
 times by the transformation of men into shad- 
 owy forms, sometimes by gentle persuasion, 
 show us the reasons of things, the results of 
 virtues and vices, and what we should flee and 
 what we should follow, in order that we may 
 attain by virtuous action to that end which 
 they, although they did not know properly the 
 true God, believed our highest welfare. The 
 Holy Spirit wished to show by means of the 
 green bush, in which Moses saw God as if in 
 an ardent flame, the virginity of her who was 
 purer than all other creatures, and who was 
 destined to be the habitation and receptacle of 
 the Lord of nature, and who was not to be con- 
 taminated by her conception, nor by the birth 
 of the Word of the Father. It wished to show, 
 by the vision seen by Nebuchadnezzar of the 
 statue of many metals, which was destroyed by 
 a stone turned into a mountain, that all past 
 ages should be overwhelmed by the teachings 
 of Christ, who was and is the living rock; and 
 that the Christian religion, born of this rock, 
 should become a thing immovable and perpet- 
 
100 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 ual, as are the mountains which we see. It 
 wished in the Lamentations of Jeremiah to 
 foretell the future destruction of Jerusalem. 
 
 In the same way, our poets, fei^nin^ that 
 Saturn had many children and devoured all but 
 four, intended by this fiction to make us believe 
 nothing else than that Saturn is time, in which 
 everything is produced, and even as everything 
 is produced in time, so time is the destroyer of 
 all things and reduces them to nothing. Of the 
 four children not devoured by him, one is Jove, 
 that is to say, the element of fire; the second is 
 Juno, spouse and sister of Jove, that is, the air, 
 by means of which fire works its effects below; 
 the third is Neptune, the god of the sea, that 
 is, the element of water; the fourth and last is 
 Pluto, the god of hell, that is, the earth, which 
 is lower than any other element. In the same 
 way, our poets feigned that Hercules was trans- 
 formed from a man into a god, and Lycaon from 
 a man into a wolf, wishing thereby to teach us 
 the moral lesson that by such virtuous deeds as 
 Hercules did man becomes god and partici- 
 pates in heaven ; and by vicious deeds, as those 
 which Lycaon did, although he seems to be a 
 man, in truth he can be said to be that beast 
 
POETRY AND THEOLOGY lOI 
 
 which is known by all as having the effect most 
 similar to his defect ; for Lycaon, by rapacity 
 and avarice, which are very appropriate for a 
 wolf, is represented as changed into a wolf. In 
 the same way, our poets imagined the beauty 
 of the Elysian Fields, which I take to mean the 
 sweetness of paradise, and the obscurity of Dis, 
 by which I understand the bitterness of hell, in 
 order that we, attracted by the pleasure of the 
 one and terrified by the suffering of the other, 
 may follow the virtues that will lead us to Ely- 
 sium and flee the vices which would cause 
 us to be ferried over to Dis. I omit pounding 
 in these matters by a more detailed explanation, 
 for, although I should like to make them as 
 clear as could be and as is fitting, and although 
 they would become more interesting and would 
 greatly aid my argument, I do not doubt that 
 they would lead me further than my main sub- 
 ject requires, and that I am unwilling to do. 
 
 Surely, if I should say no more than has 
 been said, it could be easily understood that 
 theology and poetry agree with regard to the 
 form of operation; but I say also that with 
 regard to the subject they are not only very 
 different, but in certain respects opposite, inas- 
 
102 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 much as the subject of sacred theology is divine 
 truth, while that of the ancient poets is nnen 
 and the ^ods of the pagans. They are oppo- 
 site in so far as theology presupposes nothing 
 that is not true; poetry supposes certain things 
 as true which are most false and erroneous and 
 contrary to the Christian religion. But inas- 
 much as some dolts are arisen against the 
 poets, saying that poets have composed inde- 
 cent and evil fables, not consonant with the 
 truth, and that in other ways than by fables 
 they could have shown their powers and given 
 their teachings to mortals, I wish to go still 
 further with the present explanation. 
 
 Let, then, such people look at the visions of 
 Daniel, of Isaiah, of Ezekiel, and of others de- 
 scribed in the Old Testament by the Divine 
 pen, and explained there by Him who has 
 neither beginning nor end. Let them look also 
 in the New Testament at the visions of the 
 Evangelist, full to those who understand them 
 of admirable truth ; and if no poetic fable is 
 found so far from truth and verisimilitude as 
 these appear in many parts outwardly, let it be 
 conceded that only the poets have told fables 
 calculated to give neither pleasure nor profit. 
 
POETRY AND THEOLOGY 103 
 
 Without saying anything of the blame which 
 they lay on the poets because they have shown 
 their teaching in fables or by fables, I could 
 pass on, knowing that, while they madly blame 
 the poets for this, they incautiously fall into 
 blaming that Spirit which is nothing else than 
 the way, the truth, and the life. But I wish to 
 satisfy them. 
 
 It is manifest that everything that is acquired 
 with toil has more sweetness in it than that 
 which comes without trouble. A bald truth, 
 because it is so soon understood with little 
 effort, delights us, and passes into the mem- 
 ory. But in order that truth acquired by toil 
 should be more pleasing and that it should be 
 better preserved, the poets concealed it under 
 matters that appear to be wholly different. And 
 therefore they chose fables, rather than any 
 other form of concealment, because their 
 beauty attracts those whom neither philo- 
 sophic demonstrations nor persuasions could 
 have touched. What then shall we say of 
 poets? Shall we suppose that they are mad- 
 men, like these dolts, speaking and not know- 
 ing what they say? Certainly not ; for they are 
 of profound intelligence in their methods, as 
 
104 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 regards the hidden fruit, and of an excellent 
 and beautiful eloquence as regards the bark 
 and visible leaves. But let us return where we 
 left off. 
 
 I say that theology and poetry may be said 
 to be almost one thin^ when the subject is 
 the same; and I say further that theology is 
 nothing else than the poetry of God. What 
 other thing is it than poetic fiction in the Scrip- 
 ture when Christ says that he is now a lion, and 
 now a lamb, and now a serpent, and then a 
 dragon, and then a rock, — and in many other 
 ways, to recount all of which would be tedious ? 
 What else contain the words of the Saviour in 
 the evangel if not a meaning different from the 
 sense, a way of speaking which we call by the 
 common term allegory? It then clearly ap- 
 pears not only that poetry is theology, but that 
 theology is poetry. Even if my words merit 
 little faith in so great a matter I shall not be 
 disturbed. Rather believe Aristotle, a most 
 worthy authority for matters of weight, who 
 affirms that he had found that poets were the 
 first theologians. Let this suffice for this part, 
 and let us turn to showing why to poets alone, 
 among all men of knowledge, the honor of the 
 laurel crown has been granted. 
 
XI 
 
 THE LAUREL BESTOWED ON POETS 
 
 MONG the many nations 
 which are on the surface of 
 the earth, it is believed that 
 the Greeks are those to whom 
 philosophy first revealed it- 
 self and its secrets; from the 
 treasures of which they drew military know- 
 ledge, political life, and many other important 
 matters, through which they became more fa- 
 mous and celebrated than any other nation. 
 And amon^ other things drawn by them from 
 that treasure was the sacred opinion of Solon 
 stated at the be^innin^ of this little work; and 
 in order that their republic, which was then 
 more flourishing than any other, should ^o 
 
106 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 straight and stand on its two feet, they arranged 
 and observed a nmagnificent system of punish- 
 ments for the wicked and of rewards for the 
 ^ood. Amon^ the rewards established by them 
 for well-doin^ this was the chief — to crown 
 with laurel leaves, in public, and with the pub- 
 lic consent, poets after victory over their toil, 
 and emperors who had victoriously enlarged 
 the boundaries of the state, jud^in^ that 
 equal ^lory belonged to him by whose virtue 
 human things were preserved and increased, 
 and to him by whom divine matters were 
 treated. Although the Greeks were the in- 
 ventors of this honor, it passed over to the 
 Latins, when ^lory and arms ^ave place through- 
 out the world to the Roman name, and it still 
 endures in the coronation of poets, although 
 that rarely happens. But why, for such a coro- 
 nation the laurel rather than another leaf should 
 be chosen, it should not be tedious to see. 
 
 There are some who believe, because they 
 know that Daphne was loved by Phoebus and 
 turned into a laurel, and that Phosbus was the 
 first author and patron of poets, and likewise 
 one who triumphed, that for love of these leaves 
 he crowned with them his lyres and the tri- 
 
THE LAUREL 107 
 
 umphs; and that hence men followed his ex- 
 ample, and consequently that which was first 
 done by Phoebus was the cause of such coro- 
 nations and the use of such leaves up to these 
 days for poets and emperors. Surely, this opin- 
 ion does not displease me, nor do I deny that 
 it may have been so, but another reason es- 
 pecially moves me, which is this. Those who 
 investigate the virtues of plants and their na- 
 ture, hold that the laurel, amon^ its other 
 properties, has three especially notable and 
 praiseworthy. The first is, as we know, that 
 it never loses its greenness nor its leaves; the 
 second is, that this tree has never been found 
 struck by lightning, the which we do not read 
 of as happening in the case of any other tree; 
 the third, that it is very fragrant, as we are 
 aware. The ancients, who were the inventors 
 of this honor, thought these three properties 
 were suitable to the virtuous deeds of poets and 
 of victorious emperors. In the first place, the 
 perpetual greenness of these leaves shows, they 
 say, the fame of their work; that is, that the 
 works of those who are crowned with laurel, 
 or shall be crowned in the future, shall exist 
 forever. Then, they think that their works are 
 
108 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 of such power that neither the fire of envy, nor 
 the lightning of time, which consumes every- 
 thing else, shall ever be able to strike them, 
 any more than the heavenly fire strikes that 
 tree. Further, they say that the works of those 
 already mentioned will never by length of time 
 become less pleasing and grateful to whoever 
 hears them and reads them, but be always 
 acceptable and fragrant. Hence properly a 
 crown of such leaves rather than of others is 
 appropriately made for such men, the effects 
 of whose works, so far as we can see, are con- 
 formable to it. Wherefore, not without reason 
 our Dante was most ardently desirous of such 
 an honor, and of such a testimony of power as 
 this is to those who become worthy of having 
 their brows thus adorned. But it is now time 
 to return to the point from which we departed 
 in this digression. 
 
XII 
 QUALITIES AND DEFECTS OF DANTE 
 
 UR poet, in addition to what 
 has been said before, was a 
 man of lofty and very disdain- 
 ful spirit, — to such a degree 
 that, when one of his friends 
 was trying to bring it about at 
 the instance of his prayers that he could re- 
 turn to Florence, a thing which he desired 
 above everything else, and found that he could 
 not make any arrangement with those who had 
 the government of the republic in their hands, 
 except on the condition that Dante should re- 
 main for a fixed time in prison, and after that 
 be offered in our principal church at some pub- 
 
I IO LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 lie festival as a subject for mercy, and in conse- 
 quence should become free and exempt from 
 all the sentences previously passed upon him, 
 — this appeared to him to be a fitting practice 
 only in the case of abject though not infamous 
 men, and not otherwise; and therefore, in spite 
 of his ^reat desire, he chose to stay in exile 
 rather than return to his home by such means. 
 Oh, praiseworthy scorn of the magnanimous, 
 how manfully thou hast operated in repressing 
 the ardent desire to return by a way less than 
 worthy of a man nourished in the bosom of 
 philosophy! 
 
 He likewise set great store by himself and 
 did not seem to himself to be worth less, as 
 his contemporaries report, than he was really 
 worth. This trait, among other occasions, ap- 
 peared once notably while he was with his 
 faction at the head of the government of the 
 republic. The party that was out of power had 
 through Pope Boniface VIII called to direct 
 the affairs of our city a brother or relative of 
 Philip, then king of France, whose name was 
 Charles. All the chiefs of the party with which 
 he held came together in counsel to provide for 
 this matter, and here, among other things, they 
 
QUALITIES AND DEFECTS I 1 1 
 
 decided that an embassy should be sent to the 
 Pope, who was then in Rome, to induce the said 
 Pope to oppose the coming of the said Charles, 
 or to make him come in agreement with the 
 party which was then ruling. When they came 
 to decide who should be the chairman of this 
 embassy, it was agreed by all that it should be 
 Dante himself. To this appointment Dante, 
 after communing with himself awhile, said: 
 "If I go, who stays? If I stay, who goes?" as 
 if he were the only one of them all of any 
 worth, and as if through him alone the others 
 were of account. These words were heard and 
 remembered, but that which followed from 
 them has nothing to do with the present sub- 
 ject, and therefore I will leave it and pass on. 
 Besides these things, this able man was 
 strong in all his adversities. In one matter 
 alone I am afraid I should say that he was im- 
 patient or passionate; that is to say, with mat- 
 ters pertaining to political parties, after he 
 went into exile, he had more to do than was 
 befitting his quality, and more than he was will- 
 ing to have others know. In order that it may 
 appear to what party it was that he was so pas- 
 sionately and pertinaciously attached, it seems 
 
112 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 to me that I should go on and write somewhat 
 further. I believe that the just anger of God 
 permitted, a long time ago, that almost all Tus- 
 cany and Lombardy was divided between two 
 parties. Whence they got such names, I do not 
 know; but one was called the Guelph party, 
 and the other the Ghibelline. And these two 
 names were of such power and reverence in the 
 foolish hearts of many, that, to defend the one 
 which he had chosen against the other, it was 
 not thought a hardship to lose one's goods and 
 ultimately one's life, if that was necessary. And 
 under these names many times Italian cities 
 sustained grievous oppression and vicissitudes, 
 and, among others, our city, — the head, as it 
 were, now of one, now of the other party, ac- 
 cording to the changes of the citizens. So that 
 the ancestors of Dante as Guelphs were twice 
 exiled by the Ghibellines, and he likewise as a 
 Guelph held the reins of the republic of Flor- 
 ence. From this he was exiled, as I have 
 shown, not by Ghibellines but by Guelphs, and 
 seeing that he could not return, he so changed 
 his sentiments that no one was a fiercer Ghi- 
 belline and opponent of the Guelphs than he. 
 And that which I most blush about on behalf 
 
QUALITIES AND DEFECTS 113 
 
 of his memory is that it is a matter of public 
 repute in Bologna, that any woman or child 
 speaking of politics to the disadvantage of the 
 Ghibelline party could move him to such a 
 pitch of madness that he would have been 
 brought to throwing stones if the speaker had 
 not kept silence; and this animosity continued 
 until his death. Of course I am ashamed to 
 be obliged to blot the fame of such a man by 
 any defect, but the plan on which I am work- 
 ing requires it to some degree, because if I am 
 silent about anything that was not praiseworthy 
 in him, I shall destroy the faith of the reader in 
 the praiseworthy virtues which I have already 
 pointed out. I excuse myself, therefore, to him 
 who by chance looks down on me with a dis- 
 dainful eye from high heaven as I write this. 
 
 In the midst of such virtue and learning as 
 has been shown above to have been in this mar- 
 velous poet, licentiousness found a most ample 
 place, and not only in his youthful but also in 
 his mature years, which vice, although it be 
 natural and common and, as it were, necessary, 
 can in truth not be commended or even ex- 
 cused. But who among mortal men shall be a 
 judge so just as to condemn it? Not I. Oh, 
 
 8 
 
114 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 the lack of firmness in men, their bestial appe- 
 tite! What influence over us could not women 
 have, if they chose, seeing that, without their 
 choice, they have so much ? They have charm, 
 beauty, natural appetite, and many other things 
 continually working for them in the hearts of 
 men. That this is true, let us omit that which 
 Jove did for sake of Europa, Hercules for Iole, 
 and Paris for Helen, for, inasmuch as these 
 are matters of poetry, many of little judgment 
 would call them fables; but let us take in- 
 stances not fitting for any to deny. Was there 
 yet in the world more than one woman, when 
 our first father (breaking the commandment 
 given him from the very mouth of God) yielded 
 to her persuasions? Surely, no. And David, 
 notwithstanding that he had many, having only 
 seen Bathsheba, through her forgot God, his 
 kingdom, himself, and bis honor, and became 
 first an adulterer and then a murderer. What 
 can we think that he would have done if she 
 had given him any command? And did not 
 Solomon, to whose wisdom none save the Son 
 of God ever attained, forsake Him who had 
 made him wise, and to please a woman kneel 
 and worship Balaam? What did Herod? What 
 
QUALITIES AND DEFECTS 
 
 115 
 
 many others, led by nothing else than their 
 pleasure? Amon^, then, so many and so ^reat 
 instances our poet can pass by, not excused, 
 but accused with a brow much less severe than 
 had he been alone. And let this account of his 
 more noteworthy habits suffice for the present. 
 
XIII 
 
 THE DIFFERENT WORKS WRITTEN BY 
 DANTE 
 
 HIS glorious poet composed 
 many works in his days, of 
 which I believe it is fitting 
 that there should be an or- 
 
 derly 
 
 memorandum, m 
 
 ord 
 
 er 
 
 that neither one of his may 
 be attributed to some one else, nor another's 
 be to him by chance attributed. He first, while 
 still the tears for the death of his Beatrice 
 lasted, about in his twenty-sixth year, brought 
 together in a little volume, which he called The 
 New Life, certain pieces, as sonnets and odes, 
 marvelously beautiful, which he had written in 
 rhyme at various previous times. Before each 
 
DANTE'S WORKS I 17 
 
 he wrote in detail and order the reasons that 
 had induced him to make it, and after each he 
 placed the divisions of the work that preceded. 
 And although in his more mature years he 
 was much ashamed of having written this little 
 book, nevertheless, considering his a^e, it is 
 very pleasing and beautiful, and especially in 
 the eyes of the common people. 
 
 Some years after this compilation, looking 
 down from the summit of the government of 
 the republic over which he stood, and seeing, 
 on a great scale, as can be seen from such 
 places, what was the life of men, what were 
 the faults of the vulgar, how few men there 
 were who held themselves apart from the vul- 
 gar, and of what honor they were worthy, and 
 those that joined themselves to the vulgar, and 
 what confusion they deserved ; condemning the 
 pursuits of the latter, and commending much 
 more his own; — there came into his mind a 
 high thought, by which he proposed at one 
 time, namely, in the same work, to show his 
 own ability, to punish the vicious with grievous 
 pains, to honor the worthy with great rewards, 
 and to prepare for himself eternal glory. And 
 as I have already shown that he put poetry 
 
I 18 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 before all other studies, he thought to compose 
 a poetic work; and having lon^ before pre- 
 meditated what he should do, in his thirty-fifth 
 year he be^an to accomplish that which he had 
 before premeditated, namely, his desire to pun- 
 ish and reward the lives of men according to 
 their merits and diversity. And since he recog- 
 nized that life was of three sorts, — that is to 
 say, vicious, and departing from vices and mov- 
 ing towards virtue, and virtuous, — so he di- 
 vided his work admirably into three books, be- 
 ^innin^ with punishing the vicious, and ending 
 with rewarding the virtuous, in a volume which 
 he entitled Comedy. These three books he 
 divided each into cantos, and the cantos into 
 stanzas, as can be plainly seen ; and he com- 
 posed it all in verse, in the vulvar tongue, 
 with so ^reat art and order and beauty that 
 there has been no one yet who could justly lay 
 any fault against him. How subtly he wrote in 
 it throughout can be seen by those to whom is 
 ^iven talent to understand. But even as we see 
 that ^reat things cannot be comprehended in a 
 short time, — and on this account we must 
 know that an undertaking so hi^h, so ^reat, 
 and so elaborate (for it was to include, in 
 
DANTE'S WORKS I 19 
 
 rhymed verse in the vernacular, the acts of men 
 and their deserts, poetically treated) could not 
 be brought to an end in a short space, and 
 especially by a man who was agitated by many 
 and various accidents of fortune, all full of an- 
 guish, and envenomed with bitterness, as has 
 been shown above was the case with Dante, — 
 so from the hour at which it is said above that 
 he devoted himself to this high work, the labor 
 continued up to the end of his life, although, 
 notwithstanding this, he composed other works 
 in the meanwhile, as will appear. Nor will it 
 be superfluous to touch in part on some acci- 
 dents that happened with regard to the begin- 
 ning and the end of this work. 
 
XIV 
 
 SOME ACCIDENTS THAT HAPPENED WITH 
 REGARD TO THE DIVINE COMEDY 
 
 SAY that while he was most 
 intent on the glorious work, 
 and already had composed 
 seven cantos of the first part 
 of it, which he called Hell, in 
 a wonderful allegory, writing 
 not at all as a pa^an but as a Christian, a thing 
 never done before under this title, there hap- 
 pened the grievous accident of his exile, or 
 flight, as it should rather be called, on account 
 of which, abandoning this and everything else, 
 he wandered for many years, with uncertain 
 
THE DIVINE COMEDY 121 
 
 plans, with different friends and lords. But 
 even as we must most certainly believe that 
 against what God ordains fortune can oppose 
 no obstacle by which she can divert it from its 
 accomplishment, though she can perhaps delay 
 it, it happened that some one (searching for a 
 necessary document among things of Dante's 
 in certain chests that had been hastily rescued 
 and put in sacred places, at the time that the 
 ingrate and disorganized people, more eager 
 for booty than for just revenge, rushed tumul- 
 tuously to the house) found the said seven can- 
 tos that had been composed by Dante, read 
 them, not knowing what they were, with admi- 
 ration, and, being pleased exceedingly with 
 them, cleverly withdrew them from the place 
 where they were, and took them to a fellow 
 citizen of ours, whose name was Dino di 
 messer Lambertuccio, a famous poet in Flor- 
 ence in those times, and showed them to him. 
 At the sight of them Dino, a man of high in- 
 telligence, marveled, no less than he who bad 
 brought them to him, both at their beautiful, 
 polished, and ornate style and at the profundity 
 of the sense which he seemed to feel hidden 
 under the fair covering of words. On this ac- 
 
122 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 count and on account of the place whence he 
 had drawn them, Dino, as well as the bearer of 
 them, judged them to be, as they were, a work 
 of Dante's. Disturbed that it should remain 
 imperfect, and because they could not by them- 
 selves determine how it should end, they de- 
 liberated with each other to know where Dante 
 was, and how to send him what they had found, 
 in order that, if it should be feasible, so fine a 
 beginning should have the end planned for it. 
 On investigation they heard he was with the 
 Marquis Moruello, wrote not to him but to the 
 Marquis of their desire, and sent him the seven 
 cantos. When the Marquis, a man of much 
 understanding, saw them and thought highly of 
 them, he showed them to Dante, asking him if 
 he knew whose work they were. Dante recog- 
 nized them at once and replied that they were 
 his. Then the Marquis begged him to have 
 the kindness not to leave so high a beginning 
 without a satisfactory end. "Of course," said 
 Dante, " I believed that in the ruin of my 
 things, these and many of my other books were 
 lost, and on account of this belief and the mul- 
 titude of other troubles that came upon me 
 with my exile, I had completely abandoned the 
 
THE DIVINE COMEDY 123 
 
 ^reat fancy I had taken up in this work; but 
 since fortune has unexpectedly ^iven it back 
 to me, and it pleases you, I will try to recall to 
 my memory my first conception, and proceed 
 according as grace is given me." And taking 
 up, not without trouble, after the interval, the 
 abandoned idea, he continued: 
 
 ** I say, continuing, that long before," etc., 
 
 by which one who looks closely can very clearly 
 recognize the joint in the interrupted work. 
 
 The magnificent work was, then, begun 
 again by Dante, but perhaps he did not, as 
 many would think, conclude it without sev- 
 eral interruptions. At times, when the gravity 
 of events required, he put it aside for months 
 and years, without being able to accomplish 
 anything on it. Nor could he make such haste 
 that he was able to publish all of it before death 
 overtook him. It was his custom, when he had 
 finished six or seven cantos, more or less, be- 
 fore any one else saw it, to send it from wher- 
 ever be was, to Messer Cane della Scala, whom 
 he reverenced beyond any other man ; and after 
 they had been seen by him, he made a copy for 
 whoever wished it. In this manner he sent all 
 
124 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 except the last thirteen cantos, and he had 
 written these but had not yet sent them, when 
 it happened that he died without having in 
 mind that he was leaving them. They that re- 
 mained, his sons and disciples, searched sev- 
 eral times and for several months among all his 
 manuscripts to see if he had written any con- 
 clusion for his work, and not finding in any way 
 the remaining cantos, all his friends were gen- 
 erally distressed that God had not at least 
 loaned him to the world long enough to have 
 completed the little remnant of his work, and 
 so not finding them, they despaired of further 
 searching and desisted. 
 
 Iacopo and Piero, sons of Dante, each of 
 whom was a writer of verse, on the persuasion 
 of some of their friends, had resolved, so far as 
 they could, to finish their father's work, that it 
 might not go imperfect, when to Iacopo, who 
 was much more in earnest than the other, ap- 
 peared a marvelous vision, which not only de- 
 stroyed his foolish presumption, but showed 
 him where were the thirteen cantos which were 
 lacking to the 'Divine Comedy and which they 
 could not find. A worthy man of Ravenna, 
 whose name was Piero Giardino, for a long 
 
THE DIVINE COMEDY 125 
 
 time a disciple of Dante, related that ei^ht 
 months after the death of his master, the afore- 
 said Iacopo came to his house one night, near 
 to the hour which we call that of morning, and 
 told him that that night, a little before that 
 time, he had seen in his sleep Dante his father 
 come to him clothed in shining raiment, and 
 with an unusual light shining in his face. He 
 seemed to ask his father if he was alive and to 
 hear him respond yes, but in the true life, 
 not ours. Wherefore, furthermore, he seemed 
 again to ask if he had completed his work be- 
 fore passing to the true life, and, if he had com- 
 pleted it, where was that which was lacking 
 and which they had never been able to find. 
 To this he seemed for the second time to hear 
 for response, "Yes, I completed it." And then it 
 seemed that his father took him by the hand, 
 and led him to the room where he was accus- 
 tomed to sleep when he lived in this life, and 
 touched a spot there, and said : " That which you 
 have so much sought for is here." And these 
 words said, it appeared to him that at the same 
 time his sleep and Dante departed. Therefore 
 he said that he had not been able to withstand 
 coming to bear witness to what he had seen, in 
 
126 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 order that together they might go to search in 
 the place shown to him (which he had faith- 
 fully kept in mind), to see if a true spirit or a 
 false delusion had designated it. Therefore, 
 a good bit of the night still remaining, they 
 started together, went to the place mentioned, 
 and there found a mat fixed to the wall. 
 Gently lifting this, they saw a little opening 
 which neither of them had seen before nor 
 knew that it was there, and in it they found 
 some writings, all mildewed by the dampness 
 of the wall, and near to rotting if they had 
 stayed a little longer. Carefully cleaning them 
 from the mildew, they read them, and saw they 
 contained the thirteen cantos so much sought 
 by them. Therefore in great joy, copying them, 
 they sent them first, according to the custom of 
 the author, to Messer Cane, and then joined 
 them, as was fitting, to the imperfect work. In 
 this manner the work, composed in many years, 
 was completed. 
 
XV 
 
 WHY THE COMEDY IS WRITTEN IN 
 THE VULGAR TONGUE 
 
 ■ANY people, and amon^ 
 them some wise men, raise 
 as a rule this point. Inas- 
 much as Dante was a dis- 
 tinguished man of learning, 
 why did he determine to 
 compose a book so great and notable, and deal- 
 ing with such high matters as does his Com- 
 edy, in the Florentine idiom, and not rather in 
 Latin verse, as other poets have done before 
 him? To this question I reply that among 
 many reasons two especial ones occur to me. 
 Of these the first is, that it was for the sake of 
 more common utility to his fellow-citizens and 
 
128 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 other Italians; for he knew that if he wrote 
 Latin verse, as other previous poets had done, 
 he would have been useful only to the lettered; 
 and if he wrote in the vulvar tongue he would 
 accomplish something that had never been done 
 before, would not prevent its bein^ understood 
 by the lettered, and would show the beauty of 
 our idiom and his excellent skill in it, and ^ive 
 delight and understanding of himself to the un- 
 lettered, who had, up to this point, been neg- 
 lected by all. The second reason that led him 
 to this was as follows. He saw that liberal 
 studies had been neglected by all, and espe- 
 cially by princes and other great men to whom 
 poetical works are customarily dedicated; and 
 that therefore both the divine works of Virgil 
 and those of other noted poets were not only 
 held in slight esteem, but almost despised by 
 the majority. He then began, as his lofty 
 material demanded, in this fashion: 
 
 " Ultima regna canam, fluido contermina 
 
 mundo, 
 Spiritibus que lata patent, que premia solvunt 
 Pro meritis cuicumque suis," etc. 
 
 [The furthest realms I sing, conterminous with the fluid 
 universe, for spirits broad-lying, where each has his re- 
 ward according to his merits, etc.] 
 
THE DIVINE COMEDY 129 
 
 There be stopped; for he thought it was 
 vain to put crusts of bread in the mouths of 
 those who were still sucking milk, and so be- 
 gan his work again in a style fitted for modern 
 ears, and continued it in the vulgar tongue. 
 
 This book of the Comedy, as some say, be 
 dedicated to three illustrious Italians, to each 
 one a part, in accordance with its triplex divi- 
 sion, in this fashion. The first part, namely 
 Hell, he dedicated to Uguccione della Fag- 
 giuola, who was then wonderfully famous in 
 Tuscany as the lord of Pisa; the second part, 
 namely Purgatory, he dedicated to the Marquis 
 Moruello Malaspina; the third part, namely 
 Paradise, be dedicated to Frederick III, King 
 of Sicily. Some say that be had dedicated it 
 all to Messer Cane Grande della Scala, but 
 which of these two suppositions is truth we 
 have no evidence of except the gratuitous sup- 
 position of several people, and it is not a fact of 
 such importance that it needs careful investi- 
 gation. 
 
XVI 
 
 THE BOOK OF MONARCHY AND 
 OTHER WORKS 
 
 HIS illustrious author like- 
 wise, at the coming of the 
 Emperor Henry VH wrote a 
 book in Latin prose, the title 
 of which is Monarchy, and 
 which he divided into three 
 parts in accordance with three points which 
 he settled in it. In the first, by logical argu- 
 ments, he proves that the Empire is necessary 
 to the well being of the world; this is the first 
 point. In the second, proceeding by historical 
 arguments, he shows that Rome rightfully holds 
 the title of the Empire, which is the second 
 
OTHER WORKS I 31 
 
 point. In the third, by theological arguments, 
 he proves that the authority of the Empire pro- 
 ceeds directly from God, without the mediation 
 of any vicar of His, as it seems that the clergy 
 will have it; and this is the third point. This 
 book, some years after the death of its author, 
 was condemned by Messer Beltrando, Car- 
 dinal of Poggetto, and Legate of the Pope in 
 the parts of Lombardy, while John XXII was 
 pope. And the reason was that Louis, Duke 
 of Bavaria, having been elected King of the 
 Romans by the electors of Germany, came to 
 Rome for his coronation contrary to the plea- 
 sure of the said Pope John, and, being in Rome, 
 against ecclesiastical ordinances he made pope 
 a minor friar called Brother Piero della Cor- 
 vara, and many cardinals and bishops, and had 
 himself crowned there by this Pope. And as 
 his authority was questioned in many instances, 
 he and his followers, finding this book, began 
 to use it to defend themselves and their au- 
 thority by many of the arguments in it; where- 
 fore the book, which up to this time was scarcely 
 known, became very famous. Afterwards, when 
 the said Louis had returned to Germany, and 
 bis followers, especially the clergy, came to 
 
132 LIFE OP DANTE 
 
 their downfall and were dispersed, the said 
 cardinal, there being no one to oppose it, seized 
 the aforesaid book, and condemned it in public 
 to the flames, as containing heretical matter. 
 And similarly he tried to burn the bones of the 
 author, to the eternal infamy and confusion of 
 his memory, and would have succeeded if he 
 had not been opposed by a noble and worthy 
 Florentine knight, whose name was Pino della 
 Tosa, who was then at Bologna, where the 
 discussion was carried on, and with him 
 Messer Ostagio da Polenta, who each of them 
 had influence over the aforesaid cardinal. 
 
 Besides these, the said Dante composed two 
 beautiful eclogues, which were dedicated and 
 sent by him, in response to certain verses, to 
 Master Giovanni del Virgilio, of whom I have 
 once made mention above. He also composed a 
 comment in prose, in the vulgar Florentine 
 tongue, on three of his elaborate odes, although 
 he seems to have intended, when he began, to 
 comment on them all, but afterwards, either 
 through change of mind, or for lack of time, 
 did not comment on more than these; and this 
 he entitled 'Banquet, a very fair and worthy 
 little work. 
 
OTHER WORKS 133 
 
 Afterwards, when near his death, he com- 
 posed a little book in Latin prose, which he 
 entitled On the Vulgar Tongue, in which he 
 intended to ^ive instruction with regard to 
 writing verses to whoever would take it; and 
 although he appears to have had in mind to 
 compose four parts of this little book, either he 
 did not do it before death overtook him, or the 
 others were lost, for only two are extant. This 
 worthy poet also wrote many prose letters in 
 Latin, of which some still survive. He com- 
 posed many elaborate odes, sonnets, and bal- 
 lads, both amorous and ethical, besides those 
 which appear in his New Life, of all of which I 
 do not care to make especial mention at present. 
 
 In such works as I have described above, this 
 illustrious man consumed all the time which he 
 could steal from his amorous si^hs, his piteous 
 tears, his private and public cares, and the 
 various fluctuations of hostile fortune, — works 
 more acceptable to God and man than the 
 deceit, and fraud, and lyin^, and robbery, and 
 treachery which the majority of men practise 
 to-day, seeking by diverse ways the same goal, 
 namely, becoming rich, as if all success and 
 honor and blessedness consist in that. Oh, 
 9* 
 
134 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 foolish minds! One brief fragment of an hour, 
 when the spirit is separated from the failing 
 body, will brinato naught all these blameworthy 
 toils; and time, which must consume all things, 
 will either speedily brin^ to naught the memory 
 of the rich, or preserve it for a little while to his 
 shame. This surely shall not happen to our 
 poet, but rather, even as we see implements of 
 war become more brilliant by usa^e, so will it 
 be with his name; the more it is burnished by 
 time, the more shining will it ever become. 
 And therefore let him who will toil on in his 
 vain pursuits, and let it suffice him to be let 
 alone, without seeking to inflict on another's 
 virtuous action censure which he does not un- 
 derstand himself. 
 
XVII 
 
 EXPLANATION OF THE DREAM OF DANTE'S 
 MOTHER AND CONCLUSION 
 
 HAVE shown briefly the ori- 
 gin, studies, life, habits, and 
 works of that splendid man 
 and illustrious poet, Dante 
 Alighieri, and made besides 
 certain digressions, according 
 as I have been permitted by Him who is the 
 ^iver of every ^race. I know that many others 
 could have done it much better and more dis- 
 creetly, but he who does what he can, no more 
 is required of him. My having written what I 
 could will not serve as a bar to any one else 
 who believes that he can write better than I 
 
136 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 have done. Indeed, perhaps, if I have anywhere 
 erred, I shall, to tell the truth, ^ive to another 
 an occasion for writing about our Dante, which 
 up to this time I find no one has done. But my 
 task is not yet at an end. One portion in the 
 plan which I promised for my work remains 
 for me to conclude; that is, the dream of the 
 mother of our poet, seen by her when she was 
 pregnant with him. Of this I intend to deliver 
 myself as briefly as I can, and bring my essay 
 to an end. 
 
 The gentle lady in her pregnancy saw her- 
 self at the foot of a lofty laurel, hard by a clear 
 spring, and there gave birth to a son, who, as I 
 have above said, in a short time, feeding on the 
 falling berries of that laurel and the water of 
 the spring, became a great shepherd, and ex- 
 ceedingly desirous of the berries of the laurel 
 under which he was. While he tried to reach 
 them, it appeared to her that he fell, and sud- 
 denly she seemed to see, not him, but instead 
 of him a beautiful peacock. Disturbed by this 
 marvel, the gentle lady awoke from her sweet 
 sleep without seeing more of him. 
 
 The divine goodness, which from all eter- 
 nity, as well as now, foresees every future event, 
 
THE DREAM 137 
 
 is of its own beneficence accustomed, when 
 nature, its general minister, is about to produce 
 some unusual effect amon^ mortals, to make 
 us aware of it by some proof, either by si^n or 
 dreams, or in some other manner, in order that 
 we may take notice by that si^n that all know- 
 ledge of nature's products rests in the Lord. 
 Such a si^n, if we look clearly, was ^iven in the 
 coming into the world of the poet of whom so 
 much has been said above. And to what per- 
 son could this si^n have been ^iven who would 
 have seen and observed it with so ^reat affec- 
 tion as she who was to be the mother of the 
 thin^ shown? Surely to no one rather than to 
 her. And that which God showed her is al- 
 ready manifest to us through the above writing, 
 but that which he meant must be examined with 
 a more careful eye. The lady, then, seemed to 
 give birth to a son, and so she did within a 
 short time after she saw the vision. But we 
 must see what the lofty laurel under which he 
 fed signified. 
 
 It is the opinion of astrologers and of many 
 natural philosophers that the virtue and influ- 
 ence of higher bodies produce, nourish, and 
 even, if the illuminating power of divine grace 
 
138 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 does not resist, ^uide inferior bodies. Where- 
 fore, according as that superior body is most 
 powerful in the degree that rises above the 
 horizon in the hour when one is born, they say 
 that the child is disposed, that is, according to 
 the qualities of that body. Therefore the laurel, 
 under which the lady seemed to give our Dante 
 to the world, seems to me to mean that the dis- 
 position of heaven at his nativity showed itself 
 to be such that it foretold a great mind and 
 poetic eloquence, which two things are signified 
 by the laurel, the tree of Phoebus, with whose 
 leaves poets are accustomed to be crowned, 
 as has already been shown above. The berries 
 from which the child took his nourishment I 
 understand to be the effects which have al- 
 ready arisen from the disposition of heaven, 
 which has been explained. These are the po- 
 etical books and theirteachings, by which books 
 and teachings our Dante was most worthily 
 nourished, that is to say, taught. The clear 
 spring, of whose waters it appeared to her that 
 he drank, means, I judge, nothing else than the 
 richness of the teachings of moral and natural 
 philosophy. Just as the spring proceeds from 
 the hidden richness in the bowels of the earth. 
 
THE DREAM 139 
 
 SO these teachings take their essence and cause 
 from the copious demonstrative reasoning, 
 which may be called the richness of the earth. 
 And just as food cannot be well digested with- 
 out drinking, in the stomach of him who takes 
 it, so no knowledge can be well adapted to the 
 intellect if it is not ordered and arranged by 
 philosophic demonstrations. We may, there- 
 fore, well say that, by the aid of the clear 
 water — that is, of philosophy — he digested in 
 bis stomach, — that is, his intellect, — the berries 
 on which he fed — that is, poetry — which, as 
 has been said, he studied with the greatest care. 
 His suddenly becoming a shepherd shows 
 the excellence of his talent, inasmuch as he 
 suddenly became so great a man that in a brief 
 space of time he comprehended by study that 
 which was necessary for him in order to be- 
 come a shepherd (pastor), that is to say, a giver 
 of food (pasture) to other intellects that had 
 need of it. As every one may easily understand, 
 there are two sorts of shepherds; one, the 
 shepherds of the body, the other, the shepherds 
 of the soul. The shepherds of the body are of 
 two sorts, of which the first is that of those 
 who are commonly called shepherds, that is to 
 
140 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 say, the guardians of sheep and oxen and other 
 animals. The second sort are the fathers of 
 families, by whose care must be fed and guarded 
 and governed flocks of children and of servants 
 and of others subject to them. The shepherds 
 of the soul may likewise be said to be of two 
 sorts, of which one consists of those who feed 
 the souls of the living with the word of God; 
 and these are prelates, preachers, priests, to 
 whose custody are committed the fragile souls 
 of whoever is under the control ordained for 
 each. The other is that of those who, by their 
 great learning, either through reading what 
 others have written or writing anew that which 
 appears to them to have been omitted or not 
 clearly explained, teach the minds and intel- 
 lects of their hearers and readers. These are 
 generally called doctors, of whatever faculty 
 they may be. Of this sort of shepherd did our 
 poet become suddenly, that is, in a short time. 
 And that this is true, letting pass other works 
 composed by him, may be seen by regarding his 
 Comedy, which, by the sweetness and beauty 
 of its text, feeds not only men, but children and 
 women, and, by the admirable suavity of the 
 profound meaning there concealed, refreshes 
 
THE DREAM MI 
 
 and feeds strong intellects, after that it has a 
 while held them in suspense. His endeavoring 
 to have of the leaves of the tree whose fruit 
 had nourished him, shows nothing else than 
 his ardent desire, as has been said above, for 
 the laurel crown, which is desired for no other 
 reason than to bear witness to the fruit. While 
 he was most ardently desiring these leaves, she 
 says that she saw him fall. This falling is no- 
 thing if not the falling which must come to us 
 all without rising, that is to say, death, which, 
 if that which was said above be recalled, came 
 upon him when he most desired his coronation. 
 She says next that from a shepherd she saw 
 him suddenly become a peacock. By this 
 change we may understand his posterity, which, 
 although it consists also of his other works, 
 lives especially in his Comedy j which, accord- 
 ing to my judgment, is admirably conformed to 
 the peacock, if the characteristics of both are 
 observed. Among other characteristics the 
 peacock, as it appears, has four that are nota- 
 ble. The first is that he has angelic plumage, 
 and in that he has a hundred eyes; the second 
 is, that he has foul feet and a noiseless tread; 
 the third is, that he has a very horrible voice 
 
142 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 to bear; the fourth and last is, that his flesh is 
 fragrant and incorruptible. These four things 
 the Comedy of our poet has plainly in itself; 
 but, inasmuch as the order in which they have 
 been stated cannot be fittingly followed, I will 
 take them up in a different order, beginning 
 with the last. 
 
 I say that the sense of our Comedy is like 
 the flesh of the peacock, because, whether you 
 call it moral or theological, it is, at whatever 
 part of the work most pleases you, the simple 
 and immutable truth, which not only cannot 
 receive corruption, but, the more it is searched, 
 the greater odor of incorruptible sweetness it 
 emits to those who regard it. Of this many 
 examples might easily be given, if the present 
 subject would permit it; but, without mention- 
 ing any, I will leave the searching out of them 
 to those that understand. I say that angelic 
 plumage covers this flesh. And I say angelic, 
 not because I know that angels have any plum- 
 age of this sort or another sort; but, conjectur- 
 ing that they are like mortals, and hearing that 
 they fly, I suppose that they should have feath- 
 ers; and, not knowing among our birds any 
 more beautiful or more exquisite, or so beauti- 
 
THE DREAM 143 
 
 fui as the plumage of the peacock, I imagine 
 they must have such plumage; and I do not 
 nanne the plumage of the angels from that of 
 the peacock, but the peacock's plumage from 
 that of the angels, for the an^el is a more 
 noble bird than the peacock. By this plumage 
 which covers this body, I understand the beauty 
 of the exquisite narrative, which is evident on 
 the surface in the reading of the Comedy, as in 
 his descending into hell, his seeing the charac- 
 ter of the place and the various condition of the 
 inhabitants, his ascending the mountain of pur- 
 gatory, and hearing the cries and laments of 
 those who hope to be holy, and then his ascent 
 into paradise, and seeing the ineffable glory of 
 the blessed, — a narrative so beautiful and so 
 exquisite that never one more so was thought 
 or heard by any one. The poem is divided 
 into a hundred cantos, even as some hold that 
 the peacock has in his tail a hundred eyes. 
 These cantos distinguish as wisely the appro- 
 priate parts of the treatise as the eyes distin- 
 guish the colors and the diversity of objects. 
 The flesh of our peacock is, therefore, clearly 
 covered with angelic plumage. 
 
 In the same way the feet of this peacock are 
 
144 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 foul and his tread soft, and these things corre- 
 spond admirably with the Comedy of our au- 
 thor. For even as on the feet it is evident that 
 the whole body is sustained, so prima facie it 
 appears that by the method of speech every 
 work composed in writing is sustained, and the 
 vulvar speech, in which and on which every 
 joint of the Comedy is sustained, is in compari- 
 son with that lofty and masterly literary style 
 which every other poet uses, foul, although it 
 is more beautiful than the others, and conforms 
 more to the taste of to-day. His soft tread 
 signifies the humility of the style, which is 
 made necessary in comedies, as they know who 
 understood what comedy means. 
 
 Finally, I say that the voice of the peacock 
 is horrible, and this, although the sweetness of 
 the words of our poet is ^reat at first appear- 
 ances, admirably corresponds with him, with- 
 out fault, to one who considers the pith within. 
 Who cries out more horribly than he, when 
 with his bitter imagination he rebukes the 
 faults of many living, and chastises those of 
 the dead? What voice is more horrid to him 
 who is disposed to sin than the voice of him 
 who chastises? Surely, none. With his dem- 
 
THE DREAM 145 
 
 onstrations he at once terrifies the ^ood and 
 
 o 
 
 saddens the bad. Therefore it appears, so far 
 as this matter is concerned, that he can be said 
 to have a voice truly horrid. On this account 
 and on account of the other reasons touched 
 upon, it is very apparent that he who when 
 alive was a shepherd, after his death became 
 a peacock, even as we may believe that it was, 
 by divine inspiration, revealed in a dream to his 
 dear mother. 
 
 This exposition of the dream of the mother 
 of our poet I know that I have performed very 
 superficially ; and this for many reasons. First, 
 because I had not perhaps the ability that is 
 required for so great a task ; next, even granted 
 that that be so, the principal idea would not 
 permit it; last, even if I had the ability and the 
 subject had permitted it, I should have done 
 well not to say more than has been said, in or- 
 der that something be left for one to say who 
 has more ability than I and more desire. 
 Wherefore, now that I have said as much as 
 seems to me to be properly sufficient, let what- 
 ever is lacking be left to the care of him who 
 follows. 
 
 My little bark is now come to the port towards 
 
 10 
 
146 
 
 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 which it directed its prow when departing from 
 the other shore; and although the voyage has 
 been short and the sea which it has furrowed 
 low and tranquil, nevertheless, because it has 
 arrived without obstacle, I should render thanks 
 to Him who has lent its sails a favorable breeze, 
 to whom, with all the humility and devotion 
 and affection that I possess, not such thanks 
 as are deserved, but such as I can give, I ren- 
 der, blessing forever His name and His worth. 
 
 } 
 
NOTE ON THE PORTRAITS 
 OF DANTE 
 
NOTE ON THE PORTRAITS OF DANTE 
 
 'ANTE'S face is more familiar 
 to the world than that of any 
 other ^reat poet, except per- 
 haps Homer. The features 
 ascribed to Homer, however, 
 are due to the Greek imagina- 
 tion; those ascribed to Dante we have many 
 reasons for believing to have been drawn by 
 the hands of those who had seen him with the 
 eyes of the flesh. 
 
 The problem of determining the relations 
 and respective claims to authenticity of the 
 many representations of Dante which are of 
 some antiquity has been approached by several 
 
 10* 
 
150 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 writers of learning and judgment in such mat- 
 ters, notably by Professor Norton in his Original 
 'Portraits of Òante (1865) and by the late Dr. 
 Paurin his 'Dante' sPorf rat {Jahrbuchder'Deut- 
 schen 'Dante-Gesellschaft, 1869, vol. 2). The 
 most convenient source of information in Eng- 
 lish is Mr. Lane's "Note on the Portraits of 
 Dante" (in his 'Dante Collection in the Harvard 
 College and 'Boston 'Public Libraries, 1890). 
 Some interesting details are also to be found in 
 the similar note in Plumptre's 'Dante, 1 886-87, 
 vol. 2. The most recent, as well as the most 
 complete discussion of the subject is that con- 
 tained in Dr. Kraus's 'Dante: Sein Leben und 
 sein ZVerkj sein Verhdltniss zur Kunst und zur 
 Politik (1897, bk. I, chap. 10). The author 
 is a distinguished student of art and letters, and 
 the chapter which he devotes to Dante's por- 
 traits is the most authoritative treatment of the 
 matter that has yet appeared. Almost without 
 exception the portraits mentioned below are 
 reproduced in bis work, and the reader is re- 
 ferred to it, and to the books mentioned in it, 
 for a full discussion of all important points. 
 
 The principal portraits of Dante are the fol- 
 lowing : 
 
PORTRAITS 151 
 
 (l) The portrait contained in the fresco in 
 the Bargello at Florence. It is ascribed to 
 Giotto, and is supposed to be identical with 
 that referred to by Filippo Villani, Vasari, and 
 others. It had lon^ been concealed by white- 
 wash, and was discovered only in 1840. Pre- 
 vious to its restoration by Marini, Mr. Sey- 
 mour Kirkup, an English artist, made tracings 
 of Dante's portrait, and, on the basis of these, 
 a drawing in color, which was published by the 
 Arundel Society in 1859- Some critics, espe- 
 cially Passerini and Milanesi, in an official 
 report in 1865, have maintained that the fresco 
 could not have been by Giotto, who died early 
 in I 337, because, first, it would have been de- 
 stroyed by the fires of 1332 and 1345, and, 
 second, an inscription connected with the fresco 
 points to the date I 337-38. But evidently the 
 fire of 1345 did not destroy the fresco, as the 
 inscription of 1337 shows, and there is nothing 
 to show that the fire of 1332 was more exten- 
 sive; and the inscription and the figure it ac- 
 companies need not have absolutely the same 
 date as the part of the fresco that includes the 
 figure of Dante. Kraus, with other critics of 
 reputation, maintains that the portrait is by 
 
152 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 Giotto, and was probably painted by him in 
 1334-7, after Dante's death and during a reac- 
 tion of feeling in his favor. He thinks it natural 
 that Giotto should have represented Dante as 
 a youn^ man before his exile, and side by side 
 with Corso Donati, his political enemy at that 
 time. It should be noticed that even if, as some 
 experts hold, the painting is not that of Giotto, 
 but that of a pupil, there still remains no reason 
 to doubt that it dates from an early period and 
 that it is in all probability an authentic record 
 of Dante's youthful features. It should be no- 
 ticed, however, that the artist must have de- 
 pended upon his memory of the young Dante, 
 and would naturally have had a tendency to 
 idealize his features. The Giotto portrait is 
 thus the origin of what Kraus calls the first 
 type of the Dante face, that representing him 
 as a young man, before his exile, and presum- 
 ably at about the period when he wrote the 
 New Life. 
 
 (2) The second type, that representing 
 Dante as old and worn, takes its origin, accord- 
 ing to the brilliant and plausible conjecture of 
 Kraus, from the fresco in S. Croce, by Taddeo 
 
PORTRAITS 153 
 
 Gaddi, referred to by Vasari, Lionardo Bruni, 
 and others as containing a portrait of Dante. 
 It was destroyed by the tearing down of a wall 
 in 1566, and we have of course not the slightest 
 positive knowledge regarding it. 
 
 (3) The most important portrait of Dante 
 extant is, according to Kraus, the so-called 
 miniature contained in the Codex Palatinus 
 320, in the National Library at Florence. The 
 MS. may date from the fourteenth century. 
 Kraus evidently thinks the miniature the pro- 
 duction, or a copy of the production, of some 
 one who knew Dante. The Giotto portrait is, 
 according to him, based on a memory of 
 Dante's youthful face, and is thus somewhat 
 idealized. The miniature seems to him to 
 portray Dante at about the age of forty. 
 
 (4) Next in interest and importance is the 
 miniature in the Codex Riccardianus 1 040, 
 from a photograph of which the frontispiece of 
 this volume was engraved. The MS. is not 
 earlier than the middle of the fifteenth century, 
 but the Italian commission of 1865, without 
 due deliberation, pronounced it the most au- 
 
154 LIFE OF DANTE 
 
 tbentic portrait extant. This judgment can- 
 not be sustained. The miniature seems to be 
 a fifteenth century reproduction of the second 
 type, and its importance is based on that sup- 
 position. 
 
 (5) Another fifteenth century reproduc- 
 tion of the same type is the well-known figure 
 by Domenico di Michelino in the fresco in the 
 Duomo at Florence. The heads by Signorelli 
 and Raphael follow the same type. 
 
 (6) I have reserved until the last the ^roup 
 of so-called death-masks, of which the most 
 noted are the plaster cast formerly in the pos- 
 session of the late Mr. Kirkup and the colored 
 Torri^iani mask-bust in the Uffizi. If gen- 
 uine death-masks, they are the origin of the 
 second type. By many they are regarded as 
 genuine. On the other hand, it is clear that 
 the earliest of them cannot be traced back fur- 
 ther than the sixteenth century, that it is doubt- 
 ful whether the process of taking casts of that 
 sort was known in Dante's time, and that the 
 open eyes, the cap, the arrangement of the hair, 
 and other signs point rather to modeling than 
 
PORTRAITS 
 
 155 
 
 to a simple cast. Kraus believes the so-called 
 death-masks to be fifteenth century produc- 
 tions, based on the second type. The beauti- 
 ful bronze bust at Naples is based on the 
 masks, and seems to belong to the second half 
 of the sixteenth century. 
 

INDEX 
 

INDEX 
 
 Aldighieri. See Alighieri 
 and Cacciaguida. 
 
 Alighieri (earlier Aldighieri), 
 origin of name, 37, 38 
 
 Alighieri, Alighiero degli, 
 father of Dante, 38; at- 
 tends feast at house of 
 Folco Portinari, 44 
 
 Alps, crossed by Dante on 
 his journey into Gaul, 64; 
 Dante recrosses, 65 
 
 Amorosa Visione, Boccac- 
 cio's, an imitation of Dan- 
 te's Divine Comedy, 18 
 
 Apennines, Dante passes 
 over, into Romagna, 66 
 
 Apollo. See Phoebus. 
 
 Aquino, birthplace of Juve- 
 
 nal, 77 ; her name made 
 glorious by her son, 77 
 
 Aretino, Lionardo. Sec 
 Bruni 
 
 Argos, glorious by the titles 
 of her kings, 76 ; her claim 
 as birthplace of Homer, 76 
 
 Aristotle, Greek philos- 
 opher, affirms that poets 
 were the first theologians, 
 104 
 
 Art, in Florence, once en- 
 nobled by genius, now cor- 
 rupted by avarice, 75 
 
 Arundel Society, the, pub- 
 lishes colored drawing of 
 Dante, 151 
 
 Assyria, growth of, 30 
 
160 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Astrologers, opinion of, 137, 
 138 
 
 Athens, splendid in know- 
 ledge, eloquence, and war- 
 fare, 76 ; her claim as 
 birthplace of Homer, 76 
 
 Attila, King of the Vandals, 
 devastates Italy and de- 
 stroys Florence, 35, 36 
 
 Augustus, Octavian, bones 
 of Virgil transported from 
 Brindisi to Naples by order 
 of, 80 
 
 Balaam. See under Solo- 
 mon 
 
 Banquet (Convito), prose 
 comment by Dante, 132; a 
 very fair and worthy little 
 work, 132 
 
 Bargello, the, portrait of 
 Dante in, 15 1 
 
 Bathsheba. See David 
 
 Bavaria, Duke of. See 
 Louis 
 
 Beatrice. See Portinari, 
 Beatrice 
 
 Beatrice, daughter of Dante, 
 a nun in the convent of San 
 Stefano dell' Uliva, 14; 
 Boccaccio bears subsidy 
 from company of Or San 
 Michele to, 14 
 
 Beltrando, Messer, Cardi- 
 nal of Poggetto, Legate of 
 the Pope, 131 ; condemns 
 Monarchy, a book by 
 
 Dante, 1 3 1, 132; endea- 
 vors to burn the bones of 
 Dante, 132; opposed by 
 Pino della Tosa and Os- 
 tagio da Polenta, 1 31 
 
 Biography, no knowledge of, 
 in Boccaccio's day, 20 
 
 Boccaccio, Giovanni, Italian 
 novelist andpoet, 13; impos- 
 sibility of definitely fixing 
 date of his Life of Dante, 
 13; conjectures as to date 
 of the Life, 13, 14; lectures 
 upon Dante by, 13; incor- 
 porates in the Life a pas- 
 sage from a letter of Pe- 
 trarch, 13; his visit to 
 Ravenna, 14; serious and 
 earnest character of his 
 work, 14; consideration 
 of various opinions as to 
 his authorship of the Life 
 of Dante, 15-17; his inter- 
 est in Dante, 17, 18; sends 
 Petrarch a codex of the 
 Divine Comedy, 18; influ- 
 ence of Dante's writings 
 upon, 18; appointed at 
 Florence to deliver a public 
 course of lectures on 
 Dante's Divine Comedy, 
 18; birth of, 19; his youth 
 spent in Florence, 19; 
 again, for various periods, 
 a resident of Florence, 19; 
 his intimate acquaintance 
 
 I 
 
INDEX 
 
 161 
 
 with Andrea Poggi, nephew 
 of Dante, I9; receivesmuch 
 information from Poggi 
 concerning Dante's ways 
 and habits, 19; acquain- 
 tance of, with Dino Perini 
 and an unknown informant, 
 19; meets Dante's daugh- 
 ter, Beatrice, and Piero 
 Giardino at Ravenna, 19; 
 his reliable sources of 
 information concerning 
 Dante, 20; no published 
 information as to Dante 
 possessed by, 20 ; first 
 biography of Dante writ- 
 ten by, 20 ; few accessible 
 Latin models afford little 
 help to, 20 ; one of the 
 greatest compilers of his 
 age, 20, 21 ; his failure to 
 foresee the expectations of 
 posterity, 21 ; his work on 
 Dante a classic, 21 ; drawn 
 upon by each succeeding 
 writer, 21 ; his essay on 
 Dante contrasted with that 
 of Lionardo Bruni, 21 ; 
 criticized by Lionardo 
 Bruni, 21-23; modern 
 criticism of Dante coming 
 more and more to lean on 
 Lionardo Bruni and, 23,24; 
 contrasted with Lionardo, 
 24; founder of modern lit- 
 erary biography, 24 ; his 
 II 
 
 serious writings suffer from 
 his reputation as author of 
 the Decameron, 24 ; dream 
 of Dante's mother ex- 
 plained allegorically by, 
 24, 25, 38, 39, 135-146; 
 his account of the find- 
 ing of the last cantos of 
 the Paradise, 25 ; charged 
 with being of an uncritical 
 and credulous mind, 25 ; 
 his long tirade, apropos 
 of Gemma Donati, against 
 wives, 25 ; Dante charged 
 with licentiousness by, 25, 
 27 ; his attitude towards 
 women and matrimony, 26, 
 27 ; his conjecture regard- 
 ing Dante's marriage, 26; 
 his statement as to Gemma 
 Donati, 26; part of his ti- 
 rade borrowed from Thco- 
 phrastus, 26; over-atten- 
 tion paid to allegorizing by, 
 27 ; private failings of, 27 ; 
 Dante's character empha- 
 sized by, 27, 28 ; precious 
 information given by, as to 
 Dante's physical appear- 
 ance and intellectual hab- 
 its, 28; our more ample 
 knowledge of Dante among 
 the greatest poets largely 
 due to, 28 ; of same city as 
 Dante, 33 ; invokes guid- 
 ance of God in his work, 
 
162 
 
 INDEX 
 
 34; on love and marriage, 
 43-56; on the instability 
 of public favor, 62 ; re- 
 proaches the Florentines 
 on their ingratitude to 
 Dante, 74-82; discourses 
 on the influence of women, 
 1 14, 1 15 ; on the vanity of 
 acquiring riches, 133, 134; 
 renders thanks to God on 
 conclusion of his work, 
 145, 146 
 
 Bologna, Dante goes to, 42, 
 64; the Lord of Ravenna 
 dies at, 72 ; Dante displays 
 fierce Ghibelline partisan- 
 ship at, 112, 113; discus- 
 sion concerning Dante at, 
 132. See also Virgilio 
 
 Boniface VIII, Pope, ap- 
 proves selection of Charles 
 to direct affairs of Flor- 
 ence, 1 10; proposed em- 
 bassy to, in opposition to 
 Charles, 1 10, III 
 
 Brescia,the Emperor Henry 
 lays siege to, 65 
 
 Brindisi, bones of Virgil 
 transported to Naples 
 from, 80 
 
 Bruni, Lionardo (Lionardo 
 Aretino), concise bio- 
 graphical sketch of Dante 
 by, 21 ; criticizes Boccac- 
 cio's essay on Dante, 21- 
 23 ; indifferent to Dante's 
 "inner" life, 23; discrim- 
 
 inating and convincing 
 treatment of Dante's polit- 
 ical career by, 23 ; modern 
 criticism of Dante coming 
 more and more to lean on 
 Boccaccio and, 23, 24; 
 contrasted with Boccaccio, 
 24 ; his critical and une- 
 motional method of analy- 
 sis, 24 ; refers to fresco by 
 Taddeo Gaddi as contain- 
 ing portrait of Dante, 152, 
 153 
 
 Cacciaguida, family Elisei, 
 marries a damsel of the 
 Aldighieri of Ferrara, 37 ; 
 leaves many children, 37 
 
 Camilli, the, magnificent 
 deeds of, 77 
 
 Camillus, Marcus Furius, 
 Roman general, a great ex- 
 ample, 62 
 
 Casentino, the, Dante so- 
 journs in, after his flight, 
 64 
 
 Cassius, Parma rejoices in 
 her possession of, 81 
 
 Catos, the, magnificent 
 deeds of, 11 
 
 Century, interest in Dante 
 reaches lowest point in 
 eighteenth, 14 ; reawaken- 
 ing of love for mediasval 
 literature in nineteenth, 14 
 
 Charles, relative of Philip, 
 King of France, called to 
 direct affairs of Florence, 
 
INDEX 
 
 163 
 
 HO; proposed embassy fo 
 Pope Boniface in opposi- 
 tion to, I IO, III 
 
 Charles the Great, King of 
 the French, elevated to the 
 imperial throne, 36; re- 
 builds the city of Florence, 
 36 
 
 Chios, splendid city of the 
 past, 76; her claim as the 
 birthplace of Homer, 76 
 
 Christ, teachings of, 99 
 
 Christian religion. See Re- 
 ligion 
 
 Chronicle, Florentine. See 
 Villani 
 
 Chronicle, the, a familiar 
 form of composition in 
 Boccaccio's day, 20 
 
 Chyme, splendid city of the 
 past, 76 ; her claim as the 
 birthplace of Homer, 76 
 
 Cities, Italian, beginnings of 
 most, taken from the Ro- 
 mans, 35; grievous op- 
 pression of, by Guelphs 
 and G'hibellines, 112 
 
 Claudian, ancient citizen of 
 Florence, 11 
 
 Clement V, Pope, approves 
 election of Henry, Count 
 of Luxemburg, as King of 
 the Romans, 65 
 
 Codex Palatinus, niinia- 
 ture of Dante in, 153 
 
 Codex Riccardianus, minia- 
 ture of Dante in, 153, 154 
 
 Colophon, splendid city of 
 the past, 76 ; her claim as 
 the birthplace of Homer, 76 
 
 Comedy, Divine (Divina 
 Commedia), first Venetian 
 edition of, 14 ; Boccaccio's 
 Amorosa Visione an imi- 
 tation of, 18; Florence 
 establishes a public course 
 of lectures on, 18 ; fame of 
 the part of, entitled Hell, 
 84, 85 ; origin and scheme 
 of, 117, 118; composed in 
 verse, in the vulgar tongue, 
 with great art and beauty, 
 1 18 ; could not be brought 
 to an end in a short space, 
 118, 1 19 ; work upon, con- 
 tinued to the end of Dante's 
 life, 119; accidents at be- 
 ginning and end of, 119; 
 Dante exiled after complet- 
 ing seven cantos of, 120; 
 abandonment of, 120, 121 ; 
 the seven cantos of, recov- 
 
 . cred,. 1 2 1 ; the cantos taken 
 to a famous poet in Flor- 
 ence, 121 ; their beautiful, 
 polished, and ornate style, 
 121; profound in sense, 
 121 ; the recovered cantos 
 of, judged to be Dante's 
 work, 121, 122; the can- 
 tos sent to Marquis Mor- 
 uello Malaspina, 122; the 
 Marquis shows recovered 
 cantos of, to Dante, 122; 
 
164 
 
 INDEX 
 
 authorship of cantos of, 
 acknowledged by Dante, 
 122; the Marquis begs 
 Dante to complete, 122; 
 Dante resumes work on, 
 
 122, 123; not concluded 
 without interruptions, 123; 
 not all published at Dante's 
 death, 123; sent in instal- 
 ments to Messer Cane 
 Grande della Scala, 123; 
 a copy of, made for who- 
 ever wished it, 123; all 
 except last thirteen cantos 
 of, sent to Messer Cane, 
 
 123, 124; unsuccessful 
 search of Dante's sons and 
 disciples for last thirteen 
 cantos of, 124; his sons 
 resolve to finish, 124; lo- 
 cation of lost cantos of, 
 revealed to Dante's son 
 Iacopo, 124; Iacopo dis- 
 closes to Giardino vision 
 concerning lost cantos of, 
 124,125; Iacopo and Giar- 
 dino go to place of lost 
 cantos of, 126; concluding 
 cantos of, found by Iacopo 
 and Giardino, 126; the 
 cantos copied and sent to 
 Messer Cane, 126; con- 
 cluding cantos of, joined 
 to incomplete work, 126; 
 great and notable, and deal- 
 ing with high matters, 127 ; 
 
 reasons for composition of, 
 in Florentine idiom, 127- 
 129; dedicated, according 
 to some, to three illustrious 
 Italians, 129; according to 
 others, to Messer Cane, 
 129; sweetness and beauty 
 of text of, 1 40 ; its profound 
 meaning refreshes strong 
 intellects, 140, 141 ; char- 
 acteristics of, compared 
 with those of a peacock, 
 141-145 
 Convito. See Banquet 
 Corbaccio, publication of, 
 
 26 
 Coriolanus, Cnasus Mar- 
 cius, Roman legendary 
 hero, a great example, 62 
 Corvara, Piero della, made 
 Pope by Louis, Duke of 
 Bavaria, 131 
 Croce, S., Church of, fresco 
 
 in, 152, 153 
 Cyprus, Isle of, 50 
 Daniel, visions of, 102 
 Dante Alighieri, Italian 
 poet, impossibility of defi- 
 nitely fixing date of Boc- 
 caccio's Life of, 13, 14; 
 Boccaccio's lectures upon, 
 13 ; his daughter Beatrice a 
 nun, 14; interest in, reaches 
 lowest point in eighteenth 
 century, 14; Boccaccio's 
 interest in, 17, 18; influ- 
 
INDEX 
 
 165 
 
 enee of writings of, upon 
 Boccaccio, 18; revulsion 
 of feeling in Florence re- 
 garding, probably furthered 
 by Boccaccio, 18; death 
 of, 19; an exile, 19, 31; 
 Boccaccio receives much 
 information concerning, 19, 
 20; no published sources 
 of information on the sub- 
 ject of, 20 ; first biography 
 of, written by Boccaccio, 
 20 ; Lionardo's treatment 
 of political career of, 23 ; 
 charged by Boccaccio with 
 licentiousness, 25, 27 ; 
 Boccaccio's conjecture as 
 to marriage of, 26 ; modern 
 criticism and the works of, 
 23, 24 ; dream of mother 
 of, 24, 25, 38,39, 135, 146; 
 probable attitude of, to- 
 wards matrimony, 26, 27 ; 
 born of an old citizen 
 family, 31, 34; his deeds 
 worthy of the highest re- 
 wards, 31 ; unjust and 
 hasty sentence suffered by, 
 31, 32; attempted stain- 
 ing of his glorious fame, 
 32; his flight, 32; Boccac- 
 cio of same city as, 33 ; his 
 merits, nobility, and worth, 
 33; a great poet, 34; his 
 life, studies, and ways, 34 ; 
 illustrious among genera- 
 li* 
 
 tions yet to come, 34 ; fit- 
 tingly named, 39 ; glory of 
 the Italian race, 39; birth 
 of, 39, 40 ; his early studies, 
 40-42 ; goes to Bologna, 
 
 42 ; arrival, when near 
 old age, in Paris, 42, 
 64 ; his many disputations 
 there, 42 ; his illustrious 
 titles, 42 ; wholly given up 
 to speculative studies, 43 ; 
 prey of the fierce and un- 
 endurable passion of love, 
 
 43 ; his burdens, 43, 44 ; 
 follows his father to feast 
 at house of Folco Porti- 
 nari, 44; meets Beatrice 
 there and falls in love with 
 her, 44, 45, 46 ; his suffer- 
 ings in later life for this 
 love, 46 ; virtuous attitude 
 of, towards Beatrice, 46, 
 47 ; his love an adversary 
 of his sacred studies and 
 his genius, 47 ; his graceful 
 rhymes in the Florentine 
 idiom, 47 ; grief of, at death 
 of Beatrice, 48, 49, 52 ; 
 change in outward appear- 
 ance of, 49 ; his relatives 
 counsel marriage, 49? 50; 
 marriage of, 50, 52 ; parted 
 from his wife and children, 
 56, 63 ; his family and state 
 cares, 57, 58 ; Florence 
 divided into two parties in 
 
166 
 
 INDEX 
 
 his time, 58 ; his efforts for 
 unity without avail, 58, 59 ! 
 purposes to relinquish, then 
 decides to retain, public of- 
 fice, 59 ; works continually 
 for Florence and its people, 
 59» 60 ; degraded and con- 
 demned to perpetual exile, 
 60, 61 ; his wanderings 
 through Tuscany, 63 ; his 
 wife saves a small portion 
 of his property, 63, 64; 
 forced to win his sustenance 
 by unaccustomed labor, 64 ; 
 hopes for return to Flor- 
 ence, 64, 65 ; sojourns at 
 various places in Italy, 64; 
 departs from Italy into 
 Gaul, 64 ; gives himself up 
 to study of philosophy and 
 theology in Paris, 64, 65 ; 
 learns that the Emperor 
 Henry has left Germany to 
 subjugate Italy, 65 ; re- 
 crosses the Alps and joins 
 the enemies of the Floren- 
 tines, 65 ; induces the Em- 
 peror to abandon Brescia 
 and lay siege to Florence, 
 65, 66 ; discouraged by the 
 death of the Emperor, 66; 
 passes over Apennines into 
 Romagna, 66 ; in great de- 
 spair, 66, 67 ; invited by the 
 Lord of Ravenna to reside 
 with him, 67 ; spends his 
 
 last years at Ravenna, 67, 
 68; his sacred studies, 67, 
 68 ; first to make the vul- 
 gartongue esteemed among 
 Italians, 69, 70 ; his last 
 illness and death, 70; his 
 body placed upon a bier 
 adorned with poetic in- 
 signia, 71 ; borne to the 
 tomb by the most illustri- 
 ous citizens of Ravenna, 
 71 ; his high learning and 
 virtue eulogized by the 
 Lord of Ravenna, 71 ; an 
 imposing tomb planned to 
 honor the memory of, 71 ; 
 distinguished poets in Ro- 
 magna write epitaphs for 
 the proposed tomb, 71, 72 ; 
 fourteen verses by Gio- 
 vanni del Virgilio deemed 
 most worthy of, 72, 73 ; 
 Florentines reproached by 
 Boccaccio for their in- 
 gratitude to, 74-82 ; dear- 
 est citizen, eminent bene- 
 factor, and only poet of 
 Florence, 74 ; not to be 
 neglected, 80 ; lies in Ra- 
 venna, more venerable than 
 Florence, 81 ; joy of Ra- 
 venna for the privilege of 
 being guardian of body of, 
 82 ; Ravenna's envy of 
 Florence as the birthplace 
 of, 82 ; Ravenna rcmem- 
 
INDEX 
 
 167 
 
 bered for last days of, 
 82 ; Florence remember- 
 ed for his first, 82 ; worn 
 by various studies, 83 ; 
 his love, domestic and pub- 
 lic cares, exile, and end, 
 83; his bodily stature, hab- 
 its, and more noteworthy 
 customs, 83 ; his works, 83, 
 84; his troublous day, 84; 
 of moderate stature, some- 
 what bent, and grave and 
 gentle gait, 84 ; his apparel 
 appropriate to his years, 
 84; his face long, nose 
 aquiline, eyes and jaws 
 large, and lower lip pro- 
 truding, 84 ; of dark com- 
 plexion and melancholy 
 and thoughtful expression, 
 
 84 ; his fame proved by 
 incident at Verona, 84, 
 
 85 ; orderly, self-contained, 
 courteous, and abstemious 
 in his habits, 85 ; wrestling 
 with studies or anxiety, 85 ; 
 of rare speech, 85 ; elo- 
 quent and fluent, 86; fond 
 of music and singing, 86 ; 
 fervently subject to love, 
 86; incited by love to be- 
 come a poet in the vulgar 
 tongue, 86; surpassed all 
 his contemporaries, 86; 
 clarified and beautified the 
 Italian tongue, 86; fond of 
 
 solitude and contemplation, 
 86, 87 ; assiduous in his 
 studies, 87 ; his absorption 
 in study proved by an inci- 
 dent in Siena, 87, 88; of 
 marvelous capacity, re- 
 tentive memory, and pene- 
 trating intellect, 88 ; his 
 success in disputation in 
 Paris, 88, 89 ; of lofty ge- 
 nius and acute powers of 
 invention, 89; eager for 
 honor and glory, 89 ; loved 
 poetry more than any other 
 study, 89 ; hoped to attain 
 to the honor of the laurel, 
 89, 108, 141 ; desired to be 
 crowned at the font of S. 
 John in Florence, 89, 90; 
 died without the much de- 
 sired honor, 90 ; of lofty 
 and disdainful spirit, 109; 
 friend of, endeavors to 
 bring about his return to 
 Florence, 109 ; to return on 
 condition that he remain a 
 fixed time in prison and be 
 offered in church as subject 
 of mercy, 109, HO; these 
 terms rejected by, 1 10; 
 nourished in the bosom of 
 philosophy, 1 10; set great 
 store by himself, 1 10 ; not- 
 able appearance of this 
 trait in, 1 10, III; strong 
 in his adversities, 1 11 ; 
 
168 
 
 INDEX 
 
 passionate in politics, III, 
 112, 113; holds reins of 
 government in Florence, 
 1 1 2 ; accused of licentious- 
 ness, 113; composed many 
 works in his days, Il6; 
 brings together certain 
 pieces in a little volume 
 called The New Life, 116; 
 ashamed of this little book 
 in his mature years, 117; 
 his comprehensive view, 
 117; origin and scheme of 
 his Divine Comedy, 117, 
 118; composed the Com- 
 edy in verse, in the vulgar 
 tongue, with great art and 
 beauty, 118; agitated by 
 many and various accidents 
 of fortune, 1 19 ; worked on 
 the Comedy to the end of 
 his life, 119; composed 
 other works in the mean- 
 while, 119; exiled after 
 completing seven cantos of 
 the Comedy, 120; thework 
 abandoned by, 120; wan- 
 ders for many years, with 
 uncertain plans, 120, 121; 
 sojourns with Marquis 
 Moruello Malaspina, 122; 
 the Marquis shows first 
 seven cantos of Divine 
 Comedy to, 122; author- 
 ship of cantos acknow- 
 ledged by, 122; begged by 
 
 the Marquis to complete 
 the work, 122; resumes 
 work on Divine Comedy, 
 122, 123; his work inter- 
 rupted, 123; the Comedy 
 not all published at his 
 death, 123; sends the work, 
 in instalments, to Messer 
 Cane Grande della Scala, 
 123; makes a copy for 
 whoever wishes it, 123; 
 sends all except last thir- 
 teen cantos to Messer 
 Cane, 123, 124; his friends 
 distressed at not finding 
 concluding cantos after his 
 death, 124; Giardinoadis- 
 ciple of, 124, 125; appears 
 in a vision to his son 
 Iacopo, 125; reveals loca- 
 tion of lost thirteen cantos 
 of Divine Comedy, 125; a 
 distinguished man of learn- 
 ing, 127; reasons for use 
 of Florentine idiom by, 
 127-129; dedicates the 
 Comedy, according to 
 some, to three illustrious 
 Italians, 129; according to 
 others, to Messer Cane, 
 129; writes Monarchy, a 
 book in Latin prose, 130; 
 divides it into three parts, 
 
 130, 131 ; the book con- 
 demned after the death of, 
 
 131, 132; Cardinal Bel- 
 
 I 
 
INDEX 
 
 169 
 
 trando tries to burn the 
 bones of, 132; two beau- 
 tiful eclogues composed 
 by, 132; dedicates and 
 sends them to Giovanni 
 del Virgilio, 132; com- 
 poses a prose comment, in 
 vulgar Florentine tongue, 
 on three odes, 132 ; entitles 
 it Banquet, 132 ; when near 
 death, composes a little 
 book in Latin prose, 133; 
 calls it On the Vulgar 
 Tongue, 133; intended in 
 it to give instruction on 
 writing verses, 133; pur- 
 posed to compose it in four 
 parts, 133; only two ex- 
 tant, 133 ; wrote many let- 
 ters in Latin prose, of 
 which some survive, 133; 
 composes elaborate odes, 
 sonnets, and ballads, 133; 
 spent all his available time 
 in work, 133; his works 
 contrasted with deeds of 
 contemporaries, 133; in- 
 creasing brilliance of his 
 name, 134; origin, studies, 
 life, habits, and works of, 
 135; his life first written 
 by Boccaccio, 136; sign 
 preceding birth of, 137; 
 worthily nourished by 
 books and teachings, 138; 
 philosophy an aid to, 139; 
 
 studied poetry with great- 
 est care, 139; significance 
 of his becoming a shepherd 
 in his mother's vision, 139, 
 140 ; his face more familiar 
 to the world than that of 
 any other great poet ex- 
 cept, perhaps. Homer, 149; 
 features ascribed to, drawn 
 by those who had seen him, 
 
 149 ; problem of determin- 
 ing respective claims to 
 authenticity of many rep- 
 resentations of, 149» 150; 
 Dr. Kraus's authoritative 
 treatment of portraits of, 
 
 150 ; principal portraits of, 
 150-155 
 
 Dante, Life of (Boccaccio's), 
 impossibility of definitely 
 fixing its date, 13; conjec- 
 tures as to date of, 13, 14; 
 passage from letter of Pe- 
 trarch incorporated in, 13 ; 
 serious and earnest char- 
 acter of, 14; first printed 
 in 1477, 14; again issued 
 in 1544 and, separately, in 
 1576, 14; only twice re- 
 printed in eighteenth cen- 
 tury, 14 ; appears in a num- 
 berof editions in nineteenth 
 century, 14 ; definitive edi- 
 tion of, 14; not translated, 
 as a whole, into any lan- 
 guage, 14, 15; comparison 
 
170 
 
 INDEX 
 
 of different versions of, 5 ; 
 relations of various ver- 
 sions considered, 15-17; 
 charges against, 24, 25 ; 
 statements in reply to these 
 charges, 25-27; properly 
 censurable in only two par- 
 ticulars,27 ; points in which 
 it deserves praise, 27, 28 
 
 Daphne, nymph loved by 
 Phoebus, 106; changed into 
 a laurel, 106 
 
 David, King of I srael, caused 
 by sight of Bathsheba to 
 forget God, 114 
 
 Days, Boccaccio's ten am- 
 orous, 22 
 
 Death-masks, so-called, of 
 Dante, 154, 155 
 
 Decameron, ballate in, mod- 
 elled on Dante's lyrics, 18; 
 Boccaccio's serious writ- 
 ings suffer from his repu- 
 tation as author of, 24 
 
 Dis, depicted by early poets, 
 lOI 
 
 Divina Commedia. See 
 Comedy, Divine 
 
 Divine Comedy. Sec Com- 
 edy, Divine 
 
 Divine Word. See Word 
 
 Donati, Corso, political en- 
 emy of Dante, 152 
 
 Donati, Gemma, wife of 
 Dante, Boccaccio's tirade 
 against, 25 ; lived apart 
 
 from her husband from 
 beginning of his exile, 
 25 ; statement of Boccac- 
 cio with regard to, 26 
 Duomo, the, at Florence, 
 fresco in, 154 
 Early races. See Races 
 Earth, worshiped as deity by 
 early races, 94 
 Elisei. See under Eliseo 
 Eliseo, family Frangipani, 
 arrives at Florence from 
 Rome, 36, 37 ; becomes 
 a permanent resident of 
 Florence, 37; leaves nu- 
 merous descendants, who 
 call themselves the Elisei, 
 37 
 Elysian Fields. See Fields 
 Elysium. See Fields 
 Emperors, crowned with 
 laurel after triumphs, 106, 
 107; properties of laurel 
 thought suitable to virtuous 
 deeds of, 107 
 Empire, the, necessary to 
 well-being of world, 130; 
 Rome rightfully holds title 
 of, 130, 131; authority of, 
 proceeds directly from 
 God, 131 
 Europa, exploit of Jove for 
 
 sake of, 114 
 Evangelist, the, visions of, 
 
 102 
 Ezekiel, visions of, 102 
 
INDEX 
 
 171 
 
 Fabii, the, magnificent deeds 
 of, 77 
 
 Fabricii, the, magnificent 
 deeds of, 77 
 
 Faggiuola, Uguccione della, 
 Lordof Pisa,64 ; Dante so- 
 journs with, in the moun- 
 tains near Urbino, after his 
 flight, 64; first part of 
 Divine Comedy dedicated, 
 according to some, to, 1 29 ; 
 famous in Tuscany, 129 
 
 Father, birth of the Word of 
 the, 99 
 
 Ferrara. See under Cac- 
 ciaguida 
 
 Fiammetta, Lionardo com- 
 pares Life of Dante with, 
 22 
 
 Fields, Elysian, or Elysium, 
 depicted by early poets, 
 lOI 
 
 Filocolo, introduction to, 18 ; 
 Life of Dante compared by 
 Lionardo with, 22 
 
 Filostrato, Lionardo com- 
 pares Life of Dante with, 
 22 
 
 Fire, worshiped as deity by 
 early races, 94 
 
 Florence, establishment of 
 public course of lectures on 
 Dante's Divine Comedy in, 
 18; revulsion of feeling re- 
 garding Dante in, probably 
 furthered by Boccaccio, 1 8 ; 
 
 Boccaccio's youth spent 
 in, 1 9 ; revisited by Boccac- 
 cio, 19; iniquities of, 32; 
 her beginning taken from 
 the Romans, 33 ; growth of, 
 35 ; not merely a city but 
 a power, 35 ; destroyed by 
 Attila, 35, 36; rebuilt by 
 Charles the Great, 36; 
 Eliseo, family Frangipani, 
 arrives from Rome at, 36, 
 37; Dante's early studies 
 at, 40-42 ; festival custom 
 at, 44 ; divided into two 
 parties in Dante's time, 58 ; 
 hatred and animosity en- 
 gendered in, 60 ; Dante for- 
 ced to flee from, 60, 61,63; 
 Dante hopes for return to, 
 64,65; the Emperor Hen- 
 ry induced to lay siege to, 
 65,66; the siege vigorously 
 resisted by, 66; the Em- 
 peror raises siege and de- 
 parts for Rome, 66 ; Dante 
 abandons hope of return- 
 ing to, 69 ; reproached by 
 Boccaccio for its ingratitude 
 to Dante, 74-82 ; grand- 
 daughter of Troy the fa- 
 mous,79; daughterof Rome, 
 79; Ravenna more vener- 
 able than, 81 ; Ravenna in 
 her youth more flourishing 
 than, 81 ; ashes of, preserve 
 rage and iniquity that were 
 
172 
 
 INDEX 
 
 theirs in life, 81, 82; un- 
 worthy of Dante, 82 ; Ra- 
 venna's envy of Florence 
 as Dante's birthplace, 82; 
 remembered for Dante's 
 first days, 82 ; remains in 
 her ingratitude, 82 ; Dante's 
 desire to be crowned with 
 laurel at the font of S. 
 John in, 89, 90; one of 
 Dante's friends endeavors 
 to bring about his return to, 
 109, 1 10; grievous oppres- 
 sion of, by Guelphs and 
 Ghibellines, 112; Dante 
 holds reins of government 
 in, 112; principal portraits 
 of Dante at, 150-155 
 
 Florentine idiom. See Id- 
 iom 
 
 Florentines, failure of, to 
 follow high exemplars, 30; 
 consideration of God's fa- 
 vor towards, 32, 33 ! Dante 
 joins the enemies of, 65 ; 
 reproached by Boccaccio 
 for their ingratitude to 
 Dante, 74-82 
 
 France, King of. See 
 Charles 
 
 Frangipani. See Eliseo 
 
 Frederick II, Emperor, 38, 
 39 
 
 Frederick III, King of Si- 
 cily, 129; third part of Di- 
 vine Comedy dedicated, 
 according to some, to, 129 
 
 Friars, Lesser. See under 
 Ravenna 
 
 Gaddi, Taddeo, Florentine 
 painter and architect, 152, 
 153; fresco by, referred to 
 as containing portrait of 
 Dante, 153; destruction of 
 fresco by, 153 
 
 jaul, imperial power 
 
 of 
 Rome transferred from 
 
 Greece to, 36; Dante de- 
 parts from Italy into, 64 
 
 Germany, the Emperor Hen- 
 ry departs from, to subju- 
 gate Italy, 65; Louis, Duke 
 of Bavaria, elected King of 
 the Romans by the electors 
 of, 131 ; return of Louis to, 
 131 
 
 Ghibellines, political party 
 in Italy, 1 12 ; of great power 
 and reverence, 112; an- 
 cestors of Dante twice ex- 
 iledby, 112; Dante changes 
 into a fierce partisan of, 
 112, 113 
 
 Giardino, Piero, devoted 
 friend of Dante, 19, 20, 124, 
 125; Dante's son Iacopo 
 reveals his vision to, 125, 
 126; goes with Iacopo to 
 the place of the lost cantos, 
 126; finds the cantos, 126; 
 copies and sends them to 
 Messer Cane, 126; joins 
 them to the incomplete 
 work, 126 
 
INDEX 
 
 173 
 
 Giotto (Giotto di Bondone), 
 Italian painter, architect, 
 and sculptor, 151 ; portrait 
 of Dante ascribed to, I5I ; 
 Passerini and Milanesi 
 contend that Dante's por- 
 trait could not have been 
 by, 151 ; Kraus and other 
 critics maintain authen- 
 ticity of portrait of Dante 
 ascribed to, 1 5 1 , 1 52 ; por- 
 trait of Dante by, some- 
 what idealized, 153 
 
 God, consideration of the 
 justice of, 31 ; all-seeing 
 eyes of, 32 ; favor of, 
 towards the Florentines, 
 32,33; Boccaccio invokes 
 guidance of, in his work, 
 34; appears to Moses as 
 if in an ardent flame, 99 ; 
 theology the poetry of, 1 04 ; 
 just anger of, on Tuscany 
 and Lombardy, 112; au- 
 thority of the Empire pro- 
 ceeds directly from, 131; 
 Dante's works acceptable 
 to, 133; souls of the living 
 fed with word of, 140; the 
 author renders thanks to, 
 on conclusion of his work, 
 145, 146 
 
 Gods, origin of, among early 
 peoples, 93-96 
 
 Greece, growth of, 30; im- 
 perial power of Rome 
 transferred to Gaul from, 
 
 36 ; Athens one of the eyes 
 of, 76 
 
 Greek Republic. See Re- 
 public, Greek 
 
 Greeks, Homer makes his 
 tongue esteemed among, 
 69 ; philosophy first reveals 
 its secrets to, 105; their 
 military knowledge and po- 
 litical life drawn from phi- 
 losophy, 105 ; become more 
 famous and celebrated than 
 any other nation, 105 ; their 
 system of punishments for 
 the wicked and of rewards 
 for the good, 106; the lau- 
 rel their chief reward for 
 well-doing, 106 ; inventors 
 of this honor, 106 ; features 
 ascribed to Homer due to 
 imagination of, 149 
 
 Gregory, words of, concern- 
 ing Holy Scripture, 97 
 
 Guelphs, political party in 
 Italy, 112; of great power 
 and reverence, 112; Dante 
 exiled by, 112; Dante 
 changes into a fierce op- 
 ponent of, 112, 113 
 
 Hector, champion of Troy, 
 80 ; body of, bought with 
 much gold by his father 
 Priam, 80; long the de- 
 fence of the Trojans, 80 
 
 Helen, exploit of Paris for 
 sake of, 114 
 
 Hell (Inferno), first part of 
 
174 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Divine Comedy, fame of, 
 84, 85 ; dedicated, accord- 
 ing to some, to Uguccione 
 della Faggiuola, 129; ac- 
 cording to others, to Mes- 
 ser Cane Grande della 
 Scala, 129 
 
 Henry, Count of Luxem- 
 burg, elected King of the 
 Romans, and then crowned 
 Emperor, 65 ; departs from 
 Germany to subjugate It- 
 aly, 65 ; lays siege to Bres- 
 cia, 65 ; abandons Brescia 
 and besieges Florence, 66; 
 raises siege and departs 
 for Rome, 66; his death, 
 66; Dante writes a book 
 at coming of, 130 
 
 Hercules, myth of early 
 poets concerning, 100; vir- 
 tuous deeds of, 100; his 
 exploit for sake of Iole, 1 14 
 
 Herod, influence of women 
 on, 114 
 
 History, studied by Dante, 
 41 
 
 Holy Scripture. See Scrip- 
 ture 
 
 Holy Spirit. See Spirit 
 
 Homer, makes his tongue 
 esteemed among Greeks, 
 69 ; birthplace of, claimed 
 by seven cities, 76; tombs 
 erected by the seven for, 
 80 ; Dante's face more fa- 
 
 miliarto the world than that 
 of any other great poet ex- 
 cept, perhaps, 149; fea- 
 tures ascribed to, due to 
 Greek imagination, 149 
 
 Horace (Quintus Horatius 
 Flaccus), Roman poet, 40; 
 Dante thoroughly familiar 
 with, 40 ; his early imita- 
 tion of, 40, 41 ; Venosa 
 glories in, 77 
 
 Humanists, Early, attitude 
 of, towards matrimony, 26, 
 27 
 
 Iacopo, son of Dante, re- 
 solves with his brother to 
 finish his father's work, 
 124; a marvelous vision 
 appears to, 124; his foolish 
 presumption, 124; location 
 of thirteen lacking cantos 
 of Divine Comedy revealed 
 to, 124; discloses his vi- 
 sion to Giardino, 125, 126; 
 goes with Giardino to the 
 place of the. lost cantos, 
 1-26; finds the canton, 126; 
 copies and sends them to 
 Messer Cane, 126; joins 
 them to the incomplete 
 work, 126 
 
 Idiom, Florentine, Boccac- 
 cio follows Dante in using, 
 34 ; glory of, made mani- 
 fest by Dante, 39 ; Dante's 
 graceful rhymes in, 47 ; 
 
INDEX 
 
 175 
 
 why the Divine Comedy 
 was composed in, 127- 129 ; 
 Dante composes a prose 
 comment in, 132 
 
 Inferno. See Hell 
 
 Iole, exploit of Hercules 
 for sake of, 114 
 
 Isaiah, visions of, 102 
 
 Italian cities. See Cities 
 
 Italians, Dante first to make 
 the vulgar tongue esteemed 
 among, 69 ; Florentine 
 idiom of more common 
 utility than Latin verse to, 
 127, 128 
 
 Italy, devastated by Attila, 
 36 ; return of Muses to, 39 ; 
 sweet air of, 50 ; Dante de- 
 parts from, 64 ; the Em- 
 peror Henry leaves Ger- 
 many to subjugate, 65 
 
 Jeremiah, Lamentations of, 
 100; destruction of Jeru- 
 salem foretold in, 100 
 
 Jerusalem. See Jeremiah 
 
 John, S., font of, 89 
 
 John XXII, Pope, Dante's 
 Monarchy condemned dur- 
 ing reign of, 13 1 
 
 Joinville, Jean de, French 
 chronicler, 20 
 
 Jove, worshiped as deity by 
 early races, 94 ; the ele- 
 ment of fire, 100; his ex- 
 ploit for sake of Europa, 
 114 
 
 Juno, spouse and sister of 
 Jove, 100 
 
 Juvenal (Decimus Junius 
 Juvenalis), Roman poet, 
 77; Aquino glories in, 77 
 
 Kirkup, Seymour, English 
 artist, makes tracings of 
 Dante's portrait, 151 ; plas- 
 ter cast of Dante formerly 
 in possession of, 154, 155 
 
 Kraus, Dr., author of Dante : 
 Sein Leben, etc., 150; a 
 distinguished student of 
 art and letters, 150; treats 
 authoritatively of Dante's 
 portraits, 150; maintains 
 authenticity of Giotto por- 
 trait of Dante, 151, 152; 
 brilliant and plausible con- 
 jecture of, 152, 153 ; speci- 
 fies most important por- 
 trait of Dante, 153; his 
 opinion of the so-called 
 death-masks of Dante, 155 
 
 Lambertuccio, Dino dimes- 
 ser, Florentine poet, 121 ; 
 first seven cantos of the 
 Divine Comedy taken to, 
 121 ; a man of high intelli- 
 gence, 121 ; marvels at the 
 beautiful, ornate, and pol- 
 ished style of the cantos, 
 121 ; feels their profundity 
 of sense, 121 ; judges them 
 to be a work of Dante's, 
 121, 122; deliberates with 
 
176 
 
 INDEX 
 
 finder of cantos howto send 
 them to Dante, 122; sends 
 them to Marquis Moruello, 
 with whom Dante resides, 
 122 
 Lamentations of Jeremiah. 
 
 See Jeremiah 
 Lane, Mr., author of Note 
 on the Portraits of Dante, 
 150 
 Latin prose. See Prose 
 Latin verse. See Verse 
 Latins, Virrfil makes his 
 tongue esteemed among, 
 69 ; use of laurel as reward 
 passes from Greeks to, 106 
 Laurel, the, Dante entitled 
 to, 90 ; Dante unwilling to 
 receive, outside of Flor- 
 ence, 90 ; why poets are 
 crowned with, 90, 104; 
 chief reward of the Greeks 
 for well-doing, 105; still 
 endures in the coronation 
 of poets, 106; fitness of, 
 for this purpose, 106; has 
 three especially notable and 
 praiseworthy properties, 
 107 ; never loses its green- 
 ness nor its leaves, 107; 
 never struck by lightning, 
 107; very fragrant, 107; 
 its properties thought suit- 
 able to the virtuous deeds 
 of poets and emperors, 107 ; 
 significance of its green- 
 
 ness, indestructibility, and 
 fragrance, 107, 108; Dante 
 ardently desirous of the 
 honor of, 108; forms part 
 of vision of Dante's mo- 
 ther, 136; significance of, 
 137, 138 
 
 Learning, arms always give 
 place to, 80 
 
 Liberal studies. See Stud- 
 ies 
 
 Library, National, at Flor- 
 ence, 153 
 
 Libya, burning sands of, 50 
 
 Life, consideration of the 
 instability of, 47, 48 
 
 Life, New (Vita Nuova),first 
 edition of, 14, II6; influ- 
 ence of, upon Boccaccio's 
 introduction to Filocolo, 1 8 ; 
 Dante's sufferings depicted 
 in, 46 ; Dante ashamed of, 
 in his mature years, 117; 
 composes many elaborate 
 odes, sonnets and ballads, 
 besides those which appear 
 in, 133 
 
 Literature, Mediagval, re- 
 awakening of love for, 14 
 
 Lombardy, divided between 
 two political parties, 112; 
 Cardinal Beltrando legate 
 of the Pope in parts of, I3I 
 
 Louis, Duke of Bavaria, 
 elected King of the Ro- 
 mans, 131 ; comes to Rome 
 
INDEX 
 
 177 
 
 for coronation, 131 ; dis- 
 obeys Pope John, 131 ; cre- 
 ates Piero della Corvara 
 pope, 131 ; makes many 
 cardinals and bishops, 131 ; 
 has himself crowned in 
 Rome, 131 ; his authority 
 questioned, 131; defends 
 his authority by arguments 
 from Dante's Monarchy, 
 131 ; returns to Germany, 
 131 
 
 Love, discourse upon, 43- 
 51 
 
 Lunigiana, Dante received 
 in, by Marquis Moruello 
 Malaspina, 64 
 
 Luxemburg, Count of. See 
 Henry 
 
 Lycaon, myth of early poets 
 concerning, 100; vicious 
 deeds of, 100, lOI 
 
 Macedonia, growth of, 30 
 
 Maori- Leone, Dr., defini- 
 tive edition of Boccaccio's 
 Life of Dante published 
 by, 14 
 
 Malaspina, Marquis Mor- 
 uello, receives Dante in 
 Lunigiana after his flight, 
 64 ; Lambertuccio, hearing 
 of Dante's sojourn with, 
 sends first seven cantos of 
 Divine Comedy to, 122; 
 shows cantos to Dante, 
 122; begs Dante to com- 
 12 
 
 plete the work, 122; sec- 
 ond part of Divine Comedy 
 dedicated, according to 
 some, to, 129 
 
 Mantua, famous as birth- 
 place of Virgil, 76, 77 
 
 Mantuans, Virgil's cottage 
 in Piettola honored by, 80 
 
 Marini, restoration of por- 
 trait of Dante by, 151 
 
 Marriage, discourse upon, 
 51-56 
 
 Men, elevation of evil, 30, 
 31 ; exile of good, 3 1 ; rise 
 to power of various, among 
 early races, 94 ; maintain 
 order among these peoples, 
 94; begin to call them- 
 selves kings, 94 ; cause 
 themselves to be wor- 
 shiped, 94; seem as gods, 
 95 ; begin to augment 
 religion, 95 ; deify their 
 fathers, grandfathers, and 
 ancestors, 95 ; the author 
 bewails lack of firmness 
 in, 113, 11 4 ; Dante's works 
 contrasted with evil deeds 
 of majority of, 133 
 
 Michelino, Domenico di, 
 well-known figure of Dante 
 executed by, 154 
 
 Milanesi, Italian critic, 15 1 ; 
 maintains that Dante's 
 portrait could not have 
 been by Giotto, 15 1 
 
178 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Miturnum, bones of first 
 Scipio brought by Romans 
 from, 80 
 
 Monarchy, Dante writes a 
 book in Latin prose called, 
 1 30; divided into three 
 parts, 1 30, 1 3 1 ; condemned 
 by Cardinal Beltrando, 
 131, 132; reason for con- 
 demnation of, 131 ; Louis, 
 Duke of Bavaria, defends 
 his authority by arguments 
 from, 131 ; becomes fa- 
 mous, 131 
 
 Moon, worshiped as deity 
 by early races, 94 
 
 Moore, Dr., consideration 
 of Dante and his early 
 biographers by, 16, 17 
 
 Moses, vision of, 99 
 
 Mountains, Rhodopean, 50 
 
 Muses, return of, to Italy, 
 39 
 
 Naples, Boccaccio at, 19; 
 bones of Virgil transported 
 from Brindisi to, 80 ; beau- 
 tiful bronze bust of Dante 
 at, 155 
 
 Nebuchadnezzar, vision of, 
 99, 100 
 
 Neptune, god of the sea, 
 100 
 
 Nestor. See Pylos 
 
 New Life. See Life, New 
 
 New Testament. See Tes- 
 tament 
 
 Nicholas, Bishop of Smyr- 
 na. See Smyrna 
 
 Norton, Charles Eliot, 
 American author, 150 
 
 Octavian Augustus. See 
 Augustus 
 
 Old Testament. See Tes- 
 tament 
 
 Or San Michele, company 
 of, sends subsidy to daugh- 
 ter of Dante, 14 
 
 Ovid (Publius Ovidius 
 Naso), Roman poet, 40; 
 Dante thoroughly familiar 
 with, 40; his early imita- 
 tion of, 40, 41 ; Sulmona 
 glories in, 77 ; burial of, in 
 Pontus long grieves Sul- 
 mona, 80, 81 
 
 Padua, Dante goes to, after 
 his flight, 64 
 
 Paradise (Paradiso), Boc- 
 caccio's account of finding 
 of last cantos of, 25 ; third 
 part of Divine Comedy, 
 129; dedicated, according 
 to some, to Frederick III, 
 King of Sicily, 129; ac- 
 cordingto others, to Messcr 
 Cane Grande della Scala, 
 129 
 
 Paradiso. See Paradise 
 
 Paris, son of Priam, exploit 
 of, for sake of Helen, 1 14 
 
 Paris, when near old age 
 Dante goes to, and has 
 
INDEX 
 
 179 
 
 many disputations at, 42, 
 64; Dante's success in 
 disputation at, 88, 89 
 
 Parma. See Cassius 
 
 Passerini, Italian critic, 1 5 1 ; 
 maintains that Dante's por- 
 trait could not have been 
 by Giotto, 151 
 
 Paur, Dr., author of Dante's 
 Portrat, 150 
 
 Peacock, beautiful, forms 
 part of vision of Dante's 
 mother, 136; significance 
 of, I4I-I45 
 
 Perini, Dino, familiar friend 
 of Dante, 19 
 
 Peter, S., chair of, 40 
 
 Petrarch (Francesco Pe- 
 trarca), Italian poet, 13; 
 passage from a letter of, in- 
 corporated in Boccaccio's 
 Life of Dante, 13; Boc- 
 caccio sends a codex of the 
 Divine Comedy to, 18; 
 probable attitude of, to- 
 wards matrimony, 26, 27 
 
 Philip, King of France. See 
 Charles 
 
 Philosophers, opinion of 
 natural, 137, 138 
 
 Philosophy, studied by 
 Dante, 41, 64, 65; first 
 revealed its secrets to 
 the Greeks, 105; military 
 knowledge and political life 
 of the Greeks sprung from, 
 
 105; sacred opinion of 
 Solon drawn from, 105; 
 Dante nourished in bosom 
 of, 110; richness of teach- 
 ings of moral and natural, 
 138, 139; Dante aided by, 
 139 
 
 Phoebus, or Apollo, Olym- 
 pian god, 106; Daphne 
 loved by, 106; changes 
 Daphne into a laurel, 106; 
 first author and patron of 
 poets, 106; crowns lyres 
 and triumphs with laurel, 
 106, 107; men follow ex- 
 ample of, 107; laurel the 
 tree of, 138 
 
 Piero, son of Dante, resolves 
 with his brother to finish 
 his father's work, 124 
 
 Piettola, Virgil's cottage in, 
 honored by Mantuans, 80 
 
 Pisa. See Faggiuola 
 
 Planets, seven, worshiped 
 as deities by early races, 94 
 
 Plumptre, Edward Hayes, 
 English clergyman and 
 scholar, 150 
 
 Pluto, god of hell, 100 
 
 Poetes, Poesis, origin and 
 definition of, 93 
 
 Poetry, many scholars in- 
 structed in, by Dante at 
 Ravenna, 69 ; loved by 
 Dante more than any other 
 study, 89 ; more delightful 
 
180 
 
 INDEX 
 
 than philosophy, 89 ; di- 
 gression with regard to, 
 90, 91 ; origin of the name, 
 93 ; equivalent to theology, 
 96 ; reveals the text and a 
 mystery underneath, 97 ; 
 exercises the wise and 
 comforts the simple, 97 ; 
 holds minds of lofty think- 
 ers rapt in admiration, 97 ; 
 appears as a river, gentle 
 and deep, 97 ; agrees with 
 theology in form of opera- 
 tion, lOI ; in certain re- 
 spects opposite to theology 
 in subject, lOI, 102; al- 
 most identical with the- 
 ology when subject is the 
 same, 104; studied by 
 Dante with greatest care, 
 139 
 Poets, works of, not vain 
 and simple fables, 41 ; 
 rarity of, 89 ; digression 
 with regard to, 90, 9I ; 
 origin and definition of 
 name, 93 ; importance of 
 office of, among early races, 
 95 ; office and practice of, 
 96; Holy Spirit followed 
 by ancient, 96 ; method of, 
 96, 97 ; moral teaching of, 
 99 ; myths of early, con- 
 cerning Saturn, Hercules, 
 and Lycaon, 100, 101 ; 
 Elysian Fields and Dis 
 
 depicted by early, 101 ; 
 dolts arisen against, 102; 
 blamed for showing their 
 teaching by fables, 103 ; 
 chose fables because of 
 their beauty, 103; of pro- 
 found intelligence in their 
 methods, 103 ; of an excel- 
 lent and beautiful elo- 
 quence, 104; crowned with 
 laurel by Greeks and 
 Latins, 106; use of laurel 
 still endures in coronation 
 of, 106, 107, 138; proper- 
 ties of laurel thought suita- 
 ble to virtuous deeds of, 
 107 ; use of Latin verse by, 
 128 ; divine works of noted, 
 held in slight esteem, 128 
 
 Poggetto, Cardinal of. See 
 Delirando 
 
 Poggi, Andrea, nephew of 
 Dante, greatly resembles 
 him in face and stature, 19 ; 
 Boccaccio receives much 
 information as to Dante's 
 ways and habits from, 19 
 
 Polenta, Guido Novello da. 
 Lord of Ravenna, 66; 
 trained in liberal studies, 
 
 66 ; his appreciation of 
 men of worth and know- 
 ledge, 66 ; decides to re- 
 ceive and honor Dante, 66, 
 
 67 ; asks Dante to reside 
 with him, 67 ; receives 
 
INDEX 
 
 181 
 
 Dante at Ravenna, 67 ; re- 
 vives Dante's failing hopes, 
 67 ; Dante passes remain- 
 der of his life with, 67, 69 ; 
 his great sorrow for the 
 death of Dante, 70; eulo- 
 gizes the high learning and 
 virtue of the dead poet, 7 1 ; 
 purposes to honor Dante 
 with an imposing tomb, 71 ; 
 loses his estate and dies at 
 Bologna, 72 
 
 Polenta, Ostagio da, op- 
 poses Beltrando's design 
 of burning Dante's bones, 
 132 
 
 Pontus, Island of. See 
 under Sulmona 
 
 Pope. See Boniface, Cle- 
 ment, John, Urban 
 
 Pope, the. Legate of. See 
 Beltrando 
 
 Portinari, Beatrice, testi- 
 mony concerning, 19, 27; 
 meets Dante at a feast in 
 her father's house, 44, 45 ; 
 death of, 48 
 
 Portinari, Folco, feast at 
 the house of, 44 
 
 Portraits, the principal, of 
 Dante, 150-155 
 
 Priam, King of Troy, buys 
 with much gold the body 
 of his son Hector, 80 
 
 Prose, Latin, book written 
 by Dante in, 130 
 12* 
 
 Psychical Research, So- 
 ciety for, 26 
 
 Publicoli, the, magnificent 
 deeds of, 77 
 
 Purgatorio. See Purgatory 
 
 Purgatory (Purgatorio), 129 ; 
 second part of Divine 
 Comedy, 129; dedicated, 
 according to some, to Mar- 
 quis Moruello Malaspina, 
 129; according to others, 
 to Messer Cane Grande 
 della Scala, 129 
 
 Pylos, renowned for the 
 aged Nestor, 76; her claim 
 as the birthplace of Homer, 
 76 
 
 Races, Early, ardent to find 
 out truth, 91 ; fixed laws of 
 heaven and earth suggest 
 thought of a superior power 
 to, 91 ; this power honored 
 with more than human 
 service, 92 ; large and dis- 
 tinguished edifices built 
 by, in honor of deity, 92 ; 
 these edifices called tem- 
 ples by, 92 ; appoint vari- 
 ous ministers known as 
 priests, 92 ; make magnif- 
 icent statues in represen- 
 tation of divine essence, 
 92 ; introduce vessels of 
 gold, marble tables, and 
 purple vestments for its 
 service, 92 ; humble them- 
 
182 
 
 INDEX 
 
 selves before it with words 
 of lofty sound, 92 ; desir- 
 ous of finding words wor- 
 thy of divinity, 92, 93 ; 
 these words composed by 
 them according to laws of 
 rhythm, 93 ! choose a form 
 of speech artificial, exqui- 
 site, and new, 93 ? views 
 of, as to deity, 93, 94 ; 
 planets worshiped by, 94 ; 
 other deities of, 94; vari- 
 ous men rise to power 
 among, 94 ; these men cause 
 themselves to be obeyed 
 and, finally, worshiped by, 
 94 
 
 Raphael (Rafael, Raffaello) 
 Sanzio (Santi), noted Ital- 
 ian painter, 154; head of 
 Dante by, 154 
 
 Ravenna, Boccaccio's visit 
 to, 14; Boccaccio meets 
 Dante's daughter, Beatrice, 
 and Piero Giardino at, 19; 
 a famous and ancient city 
 of Romagna, 66 ; Dante 
 spends his last years at, 
 67, 69 ; trains many schol- 
 ars in poetry at, 69 ; last 
 illness and death of Dante 
 at, 70 ; his body borne to 
 the place of the Lesser 
 Friars in, 71,81; more 
 venerable than Florence, 
 81 ; rendered somewhat 
 
 ugly by her antiquity, 81 ; 
 in her youth more flour- 
 ishing than Florence, 81 ; 
 a general tomb of holy 
 bodies, 81 ; once bathed in 
 blood of many martyrs, 82 ; 
 preserves relics and the 
 bodies of many emperors 
 and other illustrious per- 
 sonages, 82 ; rejoices in 
 havingthe privilege of being 
 the guardian of the body of 
 Dante, 82 ; envy of Flor- 
 ence as Dante's birthplace, 
 82 ; remembered for Dan- 
 te's last days, 82 ; glories 
 in Florence's honors, 82 ; 
 Giardino a worthy man of, 
 124 
 
 Ravenna, Lord of. See Po- 
 lenta 
 
 Religion, Christian, a thing 
 immovable and perpetual, 
 99, 100 
 
 Renaissance, the, Lionardo 
 Bruni's relation to, 24 
 
 Republic, maxim of Solon 
 concerning the stability of 
 every, 29, 30; Dante's 
 deeds worthy of highest 
 reward by a just, 31 
 
 Republic, Greek, more 
 flourishing than any other, 
 105 
 
 Republic, Roman, growth 
 of, 30 
 
INDEX 
 
 183 
 
 Romagna, Dante passes 
 over Apennines into, 66; 
 Ravenna a famous and an- 
 cient city of, 66 ; famous 
 poets in, write verses in 
 memory of Dante, 71, 72 
 
 Roman Republic. See Re- 
 public, Roman 
 
 Romans, beginnings of most 
 Italian cities taken from, 
 35 ; Henry, Count of Lux- 
 emburg, elected King of, 
 65 ; bones of first Scipio 
 brought from Miturnum by, 
 80 ; glory and arms give 
 place throughout the world 
 to, 106 
 
 Romans, King of. See 
 Henry, Louis 
 
 Rome, separate issue of 
 Boccaccio's Life of Dante 
 in, 14; imperial power of, 
 transferred from Greece to 
 Gaul, 36; Florence rebuilt 
 by Charles the Great after 
 likeness of, 36 ; Eliseo, 
 family Frangipani, arrives 
 at Florence from, 36, 37 ; 
 the Emperor Henry raises 
 siege of Florence and de- 
 parts for, 66 ; Florence 
 daughter of, 79 ; proposed 
 embassy to Pope Boniface 
 in, 110, III; rightfully 
 holds title of the Empire, 
 130, 131 ; Louis, Duke of 
 
 Bavaria, comes for coro- 
 nation to, 131 
 
 Rutilius, a great example, 
 62 
 
 Salvatico, Count, receives 
 Dante in the Casentino 
 after his flight, 64 
 
 San Stefano dell' Uliva, 
 convent of, Dante's daugh- 
 ter Beatrice a nun in, 14 
 
 Saturn, worshiped as deity 
 by early races, 94 ; fiction 
 of early poets concerning, 
 100 
 
 Saviour, the, words of, 104 
 
 Scala, Alberto della, re- 
 ceives Dante at Verona 
 after his flight, 64 
 
 Scala, Cane Grande della, 
 Dante sends Divine Com- 
 edy in instalments to, 123 ; 
 reverenced by Dante be- 
 yond any other man, 123; 
 concluding cantos of Di- 
 vine Comedy copied and 
 sent to, 126; Divine Com- 
 edy dedicated, according 
 to some, to, 129 
 
 Scipios, the two, great ex- 
 amples, 62 ; magnificent 
 deeds of, 17, 80. See also 
 Miturnum 
 
 Scripture, Holy, revelations 
 of Holy Spirit in, 96 ; words 
 of Gregory concerning, 97 ; 
 high mystery of the incar- 
 
184 
 
 INDEX 
 
 nation in, 98; poetic fic- 
 tion in, 104 
 
 Shepherd, great, forms part 
 of vision of Dante's mother, 
 136; significance of, I39r 
 140 
 
 Sicily, King of. See Fred- 
 erick III 
 
 Siena, Dante's absorption 
 in study proved by incident 
 at, 87, 88 
 
 Sienese, great celebration 
 of, 87, 88 
 
 Signorelli, Luca di Egidio di 
 Ventura de', Italian painter, 
 1 54 ; head of Dante by, 1 54 
 
 Smyrna, revered for Nich- 
 olas, her bishop, 76; her 
 claim as the birthplace of 
 Homer, 76 
 
 Society, Arundel. See 
 Arundel 
 
 Solomon, King of Israel, 
 114; wisdom of, attained 
 only by the Son of God, 
 114; caused by a woman 
 to worship Balaam, 114 
 
 Solon, Athenian lawgiver, 
 29 ; a human temple of di- 
 vine wisdom, 29 ; his laws 
 an illustrious witness to the 
 justice of the ancients, 29; 
 maxim of, concerning the 
 stability of every republic, 
 29, 30, 32, 105 
 
 Spirit, Holy, followed by 
 
 ancient poets, 96 ; revela- 
 tions of, 99, 100 
 
 Spring, clear, forms part of 
 vision of Dante's mother, 
 138; significance of, 138, 
 139 
 
 Statius, Publius Papinius, 
 Roman poet, 40; Dante 
 thoroughly familiar with, 
 40; his early imitation of, 
 40, 41 
 
 Studies, Liberal, neglected, 
 128 
 
 Sulmona, birthplace of Ovid, 
 77 ; her name made glori- 
 ous by her son, 77 ; grieved 
 that the island of Pontus 
 held her Ovid, 80, 81 
 
 Sun, worshiped as deity by 
 early races, 94 
 
 Tales, Boccaccio's hundred, 
 22 
 
 Testament, New, visions of 
 the Evangelist described 
 in, 102 
 
 Testament, Old, visions of 
 prophets described in, 102 
 
 Thebans, the two, fleeing of 
 the flames of, 81, 82 
 
 Theology, profound depths 
 of, studied by Dante, 41, 
 64, 65 ; high mystery of 
 the incarnation in, 98; 
 agrees with poetry in form 
 of operation, 101 ; in cer- 
 tain respects opposite to 
 
INDEX 
 
 185 
 
 poetry in subject, IO I, 102; 
 almost identical with poe- 
 try when subject is the 
 same, 104; the poetry of 
 God, 104 
 
 Thcophrastus, Greek phi- 
 losopher, Boccaccio bor- 
 rows from, 26 
 
 Tongue, Vulgar, first exalted 
 among Italians by Dante, 
 69, 70 ; the Divine Comedy 
 composed in, 118; reasons 
 for Dante's use of, 127- 
 129; Dante composes a 
 prose comment in, 132 
 
 Torquati, the, magnificent 
 deeds of, 77 
 
 Torrigiani, colored mask- 
 bust of Dante ascribed to, 
 154, 155 
 
 Tosa, Pino della, opposes 
 Beltrando's design of burn- 
 ing Dante's bones, 132 
 
 Troy, Florence grand- 
 daughter of, 79 
 
 Tuscany, Dante departs 
 from, 64 ; divided between 
 two political parties, 112; 
 Uguccione della Faggiuola 
 famous in, 129 
 
 Uffizi, the, at Florence, col- 
 ored mask-bust of Dante 
 in, 154, 155 
 
 Urban IV, Pope, 40 
 
 Urbino, Dante sojourns in 
 the mountains near, 64 
 
 Vasari, Giorgio, Italian ar- 
 chitect, painter, and writer 
 on art, 151 ; portrait of 
 Dante referred to by, 151 ; 
 refers to fresco by Taddeo 
 Gaddi as containing por- 
 trait of Dante, 152, 153 
 
 Venosa, birthplace of Hor- 
 ace, 77 ; her name made 
 glorious by her son, 77 
 
 Verona, Dante sojourns at, 
 after his flight from Flor- 
 ence, 64; again visited by 
 Dante, 64 ; his fame proved 
 by an incident at, 84, 85 
 
 Verse, Latin, why Divine 
 Comedy was not composed 
 in, 127-129; use of, by 
 poets previous to Dante, 
 128; useful only to the 
 lettered, 128 
 
 Villani, Filippo, portrait of 
 Dante referred to by, 151 
 
 Villani, Giovanni, writes in 
 his Florentine Chronicle 
 incidentally and briefly of 
 Dante, 20 
 
 Virgil, or Vergil (Publius 
 Vcrgilius Maro), Roman 
 poet, 40 ; Dante thoroughly 
 familiar with, 40; Dante's 
 early imitation of, 40, 41 ; 
 makes his tongue esteemed 
 among Latins, 69 ; Mantua 
 famous as birthplace of, 76, 
 77 ; his cottage in Piettola 
 
I 
 
 186 
 
 INDEX 
 
 honored by Mantuans, 80; 
 bones of, transported from 
 Brindisi to Naples, 80; 
 divine works of, held in 
 slight esteem, 128 
 
 Virgilio, Giovanni del, of 
 Bologna, fourteen verses 
 by, in memory of Dante, 
 72, 73; Dante dedicates 
 and sends two beautiful 
 eclogues to, 132 
 
 Vita Nuova. See Life, New 
 
 Vulgar tongue. See Tongue 
 
 Water, worshiped as deity 
 by early races, 94 
 
 Wicksteed, P. H., accurate 
 and graceful version of 
 Life of Dante by, 15; his 
 translation of Lionardo 
 Bruni cited, 22, 23 
 
 Women, discourse on in- 
 fluence of, 114, 115 
 
 Word, Divine, incarnation 
 of the, 98 
 
^m 
 
 ' • • 
 
 V a.' 
 
 4riifjt«t