DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.61902#0068
46
THE MAKERS OF FLORENCE.
and pincers and scales, and many other things, and threw them out
into the road. The blacksmith, turning round upon him, cried out,
‘What the devil are you doing? are you mad?’ ‘What are you
doing?’ said Dante. ‘ I am working at my proper business,’ said the
blacksmith, ‘and you are spoiling my work, throwing it out into the
road.’ Said Dante : ‘ If you do not like me to spoil your things, do
not spoil mine.’ ‘ What thing of yours am I spoiling? ’ said the man.
And Dante replied: ‘You are singing something of mine, but not
as I made it. I have no other trade but this, and you spoil it forme.’
The blacksmith, too proud to acknowledge his fault, but not knowing
how to reply, gathered up his things and returned to his work ; and
when he sang again, sang Tristram and Launcelot, and left Dante
alone.”
It is odd to think of Dante’s delicate canzones, even of
smozzicato and tramestato, in the mouth of the rude worker
in iron, keeping time to the beating of the hammer. An-
other anecdote of the same kind follows, in Sacchetti’s
simple record :
“ This story moves me to tell another of the same poet, which is
short and very good. As Dante was going one day about his own
affairs in the city of Florence, wearing armor as was the custom, he
met an ass-driver, who walked behind his asses, which were laden
with the refuse and sweepings of the streets, singing as he went out
of Dante’s book; and when he had sung a verse he struck his ass and
cried ‘Arrhi ! ’ When Dante heard this he gave the fellow a blow on
the shoulder with his gauntlet, and said, ‘I did not put in that Arrhi.’
The man, not knowing who Dante was, nor what this meant, when he
was out of reach put out his tongue at him, with other rude gestures,
saying, ‘ Take that ! ’ ‘I would not give one of mine for a hundred of
thine,’ said the poet. Oh gentle words full of philosophy ! Many
would have pursued the fellow and made an end of him. others would
have thrown stones at him; but the wise poet confounded the wretch,
and had praise of all who heard these wise words.”
The old story-teller’s enthusiasm here may seem a little
misplaced, but yet the poet’s quaint reprisals show a
certain genial sense of humor scarcely to be expected from
the man. Another curious trait, less amiable but still
THE MAKERS OF FLORENCE.
and pincers and scales, and many other things, and threw them out
into the road. The blacksmith, turning round upon him, cried out,
‘What the devil are you doing? are you mad?’ ‘What are you
doing?’ said Dante. ‘ I am working at my proper business,’ said the
blacksmith, ‘and you are spoiling my work, throwing it out into the
road.’ Said Dante : ‘ If you do not like me to spoil your things, do
not spoil mine.’ ‘ What thing of yours am I spoiling? ’ said the man.
And Dante replied: ‘You are singing something of mine, but not
as I made it. I have no other trade but this, and you spoil it forme.’
The blacksmith, too proud to acknowledge his fault, but not knowing
how to reply, gathered up his things and returned to his work ; and
when he sang again, sang Tristram and Launcelot, and left Dante
alone.”
It is odd to think of Dante’s delicate canzones, even of
smozzicato and tramestato, in the mouth of the rude worker
in iron, keeping time to the beating of the hammer. An-
other anecdote of the same kind follows, in Sacchetti’s
simple record :
“ This story moves me to tell another of the same poet, which is
short and very good. As Dante was going one day about his own
affairs in the city of Florence, wearing armor as was the custom, he
met an ass-driver, who walked behind his asses, which were laden
with the refuse and sweepings of the streets, singing as he went out
of Dante’s book; and when he had sung a verse he struck his ass and
cried ‘Arrhi ! ’ When Dante heard this he gave the fellow a blow on
the shoulder with his gauntlet, and said, ‘I did not put in that Arrhi.’
The man, not knowing who Dante was, nor what this meant, when he
was out of reach put out his tongue at him, with other rude gestures,
saying, ‘ Take that ! ’ ‘I would not give one of mine for a hundred of
thine,’ said the poet. Oh gentle words full of philosophy ! Many
would have pursued the fellow and made an end of him. others would
have thrown stones at him; but the wise poet confounded the wretch,
and had praise of all who heard these wise words.”
The old story-teller’s enthusiasm here may seem a little
misplaced, but yet the poet’s quaint reprisals show a
certain genial sense of humor scarcely to be expected from
the man. Another curious trait, less amiable but still