DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.61902#0070
48
the Makers oe Florence.
dation “as a neighbor.” No wonder the Adimari did not
like it. It was “ the principal reason/’ Sacchetti tells us,
of Dante’s exile. And no doubt so keen a personal injury
would not be forgotten.
These glimpses of him are very valuable through the
dimness of the time. How he appeared in his greater occu-
pations as ambassador and as one of the magnificent sig-
noria, an honor to which he came shortly after, we cannot
tell; but he is very clear to us making his way about the
streets in his gorget and gauntlets, “ observing everything ”
■—the arrogant young horseman with his toes stuck out to
make the narrow path impassable, the blacksmith at his
work, the dustman putting in his rude “Gee up!” as a re-
frain to those exquisite sonnets which were dearest to the
poet. We have other passing glimpses of him of a similar
kind to those already recorded, for which, however, we can
scarcely find room here. But there is one which we must
not leave out, which shows another aspect of the poet who
observed everything. This took place away from home,
in the streets of Sienna, where, having received a book
which had been promised to him, he fell to reading it on
the bench outside the door of an apothecary, leaning his
breast against the bench with his back to the street, and
there he stood all day, from early mass to vespers, uncon-
scious of the great festa which was going on behind him.
There were “ dances of pretty maidens,” Boccaccio tells
us, and “games of well-disposed and gallant youths,” and
various instruments, and applauses, which made grandis-
simi romori. “How could you keep yourself from looking
at so fine a festa F ” some one asked the poet, who lifted
wondering eyes from his book, and declared, “ I heard
nothing.” This is how Dante appears to us in his early
manhood, when every glimpse of him about the streets is
precious, short as was to be his sojourn there. For, alas,
we have no longer a “ Vita Nuova” to guide us; to show
the Makers oe Florence.
dation “as a neighbor.” No wonder the Adimari did not
like it. It was “ the principal reason/’ Sacchetti tells us,
of Dante’s exile. And no doubt so keen a personal injury
would not be forgotten.
These glimpses of him are very valuable through the
dimness of the time. How he appeared in his greater occu-
pations as ambassador and as one of the magnificent sig-
noria, an honor to which he came shortly after, we cannot
tell; but he is very clear to us making his way about the
streets in his gorget and gauntlets, “ observing everything ”
■—the arrogant young horseman with his toes stuck out to
make the narrow path impassable, the blacksmith at his
work, the dustman putting in his rude “Gee up!” as a re-
frain to those exquisite sonnets which were dearest to the
poet. We have other passing glimpses of him of a similar
kind to those already recorded, for which, however, we can
scarcely find room here. But there is one which we must
not leave out, which shows another aspect of the poet who
observed everything. This took place away from home,
in the streets of Sienna, where, having received a book
which had been promised to him, he fell to reading it on
the bench outside the door of an apothecary, leaning his
breast against the bench with his back to the street, and
there he stood all day, from early mass to vespers, uncon-
scious of the great festa which was going on behind him.
There were “ dances of pretty maidens,” Boccaccio tells
us, and “games of well-disposed and gallant youths,” and
various instruments, and applauses, which made grandis-
simi romori. “How could you keep yourself from looking
at so fine a festa F ” some one asked the poet, who lifted
wondering eyes from his book, and declared, “ I heard
nothing.” This is how Dante appears to us in his early
manhood, when every glimpse of him about the streets is
precious, short as was to be his sojourn there. For, alas,
we have no longer a “ Vita Nuova” to guide us; to show