Dante and Beatrice, from 1282 to 1290. A romance

Front matter

DANTE AND BEATRICE, FROM 1282 TO 1290. DANTE & BEATRICE FROM 1282 TO 1290. A ROMANCE. BY ROXBURGHE LOTHIAN. " The Psyche and the Eros ne'er have been Save in Olympus wedded ! as a stream Glasses a star, so life the ideal love — Restless the stream below — serene the orb above." Bulwer Lytton. VOL. II. Henry S. King & Co., London. 1876. " Haply I think of thee, aud then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate ; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings." Shakespeare — Sonnet xxix. (All rig/its reserved.) CONTENTS OF VOL. II. BOOK THE THIRD. Pagr Chap. I. The Raven's Tree, .... 1285 1 II. The Cottage of Stigliola, . 9 „ III. The Parting at the Monk's Ford, . . „ 19 „ IV. Cardinal Latino pares his Mushrooms with an Amber Knife, . . . . „ 28 „ V. How Beatrice Portinari married Master Simon dei Bardi, ..... 1286 42 „ VI.

Dante's Grief and Dreams, . . . „ 52 „ VII. Master Simon dei Bardi, .. . 1287-8 64 ,, VIII. Cardinal Latino prepares for returning to Rome in May, ..... 1289 71 ,, IX. How Friends met in secret in Dante's Tower, „ 82 ,, X. The Fight of Campaldino, June 2d, . „ 100 BOOK THE FOURTH. Chap. I. The Temple of Nurscia, . . . 1289 106 ,, II. Monk Jeremy visits Beatrice at the Orsini Palace in Rome, . . • ,, 127 „ III. The Trials of Beatrice, . . • ,, Contents. Pack Chap. IV. The Victors Feasted, . • • 1-§9 ui V. The death of Master Folco dei Portinari, December 31, . - • • >i 151 „ VI. The Visdomini ride into Florence, . . 1290 157 „ VII. Beatrice and Felicitas, . . „ 163 ,, VIII. Dante and Guido Cavalcanti in the Marshes, „ 168 ,, IX. The Heronry at Night, . . „ 177 ,, X. The Franciscans of Fiesole, . . „ 188 „ XI.

What followed Supper, . . „ 204 XII. The Credo of Dante, . . . „ 209 XIII. The Death of Beatrice, June 9th, . . „ 219 ,, XIV. How Dante hears of the Death of Beatrice, „ 227 ,, XV. Dante at the Grave of Beatrice, . . ,, 238

Appendix

. Note I. The Portinari Altar-Piece by Hugo van der Goes, now in the Library of the Hospital of Santa Maria Nuova at Florence, . . . 247 ,, II. Dante's third Canzonet, .... 249 ,, III. Curious particulars concerning certain Convents of Franciscans, ..... 250 „ IV. Masons' Marks on Phœnician Buildings in Palestine . 251 „ V. The Free Masons as religious builders, . . 253 ,, VI. The Foundation and Settlement of Santa Maria Xuova 256 „ VII. Concerning Folco Portinari's good servant, Monna Tessa, ...... C07lt€7lts. V Pagk Note VIII. On the excellent Order of the Bridge, or Bridge Brethren, ..... 258 „ IX. On the influences of Hebrew and Arabic learning on the 13th Century, . . . . .259 ,, IXa. The Tomb of Master Folco dei Portinari at Santa Maria Nuova in Florence (Church of Sant' Egidio), . 263 ,, X. Other Portinari Tombs, and Works of Art in the Church of Sant' Egidio, in Santa Maria Nuova, . 264 ,, XL Of the Credo or Profession of Faith of Dante, and its date in his Life, ..... 264 „ XII.

On the sometime residence of Dante Allighieri at Tal-y- Llyn in North Wales, during his exile, with some account of the present state of his place of refuge near Tal-y-Llyn, . . . .269 „ XIII. On the finding the remains of Dante, on the 24th May 1865, not in his tomb at Ravenna, but builded into the wall of the Church near it ; with the reason why the tomb itself was empty ; and proofs of identity, . . . . 27i> DANTE AND BEATKICE.

Chapter I. The Raven's Tree

" Or, growling horrid, as the brindled boar Grins fell destruction, — to the monster's heart Let the dart lighten from the nervous arm." (Thomson's Autumn.) The party proceeded in high spirits to the inner glades of the forest, till they reached the riven tree, with the white goose banner. It stood not far from the boar's harbour, and there, walking along, telling his beads most edifyingly, — not thinking of hunting — not he, pious man ! — rwas the Hermit of the Monk's Ford. Gerardo Visdomini greeted him kindly, and asked him to join their sport. Suddenly, the horn of Gundulf sounded. Bell-collars had been fastened on the hounds' necks, and six couple of the best and staunchest dogs were put into the thicket. They had not been long there, before their deep voices told that the game was afoot.

The boar, roused in his sleeping-lair, tried first to escape by the same way at which he had entered ; but, on that side of the covert, the Hermit and Gundulf had seen his marks. " That's your trick, is it, old fellow ? " growled Gundulf, riding in among the hounds, and keeping them close, to change the direction of escape. " I prefer you should go to the west, friend, instead of trotting out as you came in ! " In doing this, however, Gundulf, himself scathless, lost two of his best dogs ere the boar broke away. Nor were the sufferers at that young and eager age, when hounds will seize a boar, and be killed or spoiled, for useless provocation. II. A Dante aud Beatrice. 2 They were old and well taught, and the boar was a five year old of immense girth and strength, well deserving the good opinion of the enthusiastic Hermit, who admired the sulkiness with which the grunter shook off his new assailants.

"Oh these young men!" groaned Gundulf; "Would that my Lord were here ! Not one of them durst have stirred from the station he gave them, until my horn sounded to follow the chase ! " The over-anxious cavaliers were galloping in every direction. Some judging the boar would issue here, some there. Out of all patience, but with some prudent semblance of respect, he rode up to them. " My Lords ! my Lords ! you are spoiling the sport. Go back, or you will head the boar. Go back, and we will soon have him out, where you may ride, with spurs in your horses' sides, if you be so minded." Well was it that Gundulf's orders were quickly followed, for the boar had already turned to the very quarter where the cavaliers had first placed themselves. Gundulf, from his station within the wood, where his view was not even inter cepted by the cunning Hermit, who had posted himself at the same point, now saw the magnificent boar break from the covert, stand, and listen for a moment, then, seeing the road clear, make off to some distant haunt in the direction the old huntsman had intended.

The Hermit looked pity ingly at the dying hounds, staunch old dogs, whose gray solemn heads showed age and wisdom, and whose former scars, and seams in lips and ears, betokened many an encounter. He would fain have doctored them, if he could, but Gundulf's horn now sounded lustily ; twelve more couples were unleashed, and the forest echoed with hound and bugle. The chase was up. Each gallant grasped his spear, and pressed his spurs to his horse's sides. Against all rule, some of the vainer men rode before Gundulf, and among the hounds, but their courage was soon damped in a quagmire, on the edge of which, divers of them floundered inglori ously. The Raven 's Tree. 3 r " I hope you are not hurt, my Lords!" shouted the hunts man. " Forward ! " The boar had attempted to make for a sedgy marsh, where he had often wallowed in the heats of summer ; but, from this, he had been turned, by Gundulf's activity, into a tract of comparatively open ground.

The horse lent to the Hermit, by Gerardo Visdomini, was strong and active, as was his rider. The Hermit seemed Gundulf's second self, so ably, without communication or look, did he second his wishes. The boar, so soon as forced from the marsh, kept on, till, after listening to the noise of the dogs, and appar ently hesitating, he made at once for that part of the forest out of which he had been roused. Gundulf knew well that an old boar will leave, as little as possible, the wood where he was bred, and will always seek, when hard pressed, to return there. So soon as he broke away to his original covert, the pursuit became hotter; the last relays of dogs were uncoupled, and the Hermit warned the ladies to be less venturesome. The boar kept ahead, at a quick ambling gallop, foaming with rage.

Gundulf, with quick eye and hand, guided his horse so adroitly, over broken ground, and through thickets and trees, that he appeared to keep near the hounds with little exertion, while the younger hunters, now galloping furiously in the glades, now stopped by thickets, or unable to twist their horses through intricate ways, suffered divers disasters. One of the Caponsacchi broke his spear against a tree ; the elder Portinari was swept out of his saddle by an oak branch ; Gangalandi lost his stirrups ; and Nerli was crushed against some timber. The ladies kept on steadily enough, warned by the Hermit, and guided by a pricker, along the openings cut through for carrying wood, but this was not always easily done, for, though much had been cleared, the ground was rough and briery ; here and there, deep and miry with springs, and often cut with ditches, that had been made to drain the bog.

Through every difficulty, the Countess Magdalene and Beatrice led the way, delighted when the Da7ite a7id Beatrice. 4 wild music of the chase would sometimes cross the path in which they rode. Once, they had to pull up, as the hunt passed close before them. Old Gundulf stopped a moment, to tell the pricker to lead the ladies to the Monk's Ford, where he calculated the boar would be brought to bay. Then turning to Beatrice, he said : " Be careful, dear lady. Remember you are not on your own jennet. That barb is scarcely broken to your hand. Come not near us when the boar is at bay, for he might break from us again, and you might not be able to guide your horse." Much must the old man have loved Beatrice to have thus thought of her, and stopped to caution, while his hounds were in chase. When he rejoined them, the boar, as if to throw the dogs off the scent, passed over the lair of a second beast, which made off in a different direction, taking with him some young hounds, and divers hunters, to the extreme disgust of Gundulf and the Hermit.

" Sound to recall," cried Gerardo Visdomini, with a flash of his father's spirit. " Prickers, go, stop the young dogs, and bring them back ! " Presently afterwards, the boar, being hard pressed, came to bay at a spot where stood a venerable oak, known by the name of the Raven's Tree. The young Visdomini, like all his countrymen, followed the old Roman method of boar-hunting, which was to keep the brute at bay with a single spear, and then engage and kill him. Gerardo Visdomini alighted, and, usually, none would have engaged the boar before him in his own forests ; but he was young, and there were present several consider able men, who had been tried friends of his late father. To the most influential of these, Cæsar Adimari, a fine soldier and strongly-knit huntsman, Gerardo Visdomini gave the post of honour.

Gundulf lost, meanwhile, all patience. " Would my old master," said he, " have suffered any stranger to plant spear in a boar that had cost such a run as that? Oh that I could place an older head on those young shoulders ! He is ruining his hounds ! — ruining everything ! In his delay three more are killed — the old The Rave7is Tree. 5 ones growing mad ; and see there — my poor Woodman at last ! ripped in the flank, and good for nothing ! " This havoc among the dogs was the work of a few minutes. The enraged boar, brought to bay, and surrounded, increased in fury with every opponent. At last Cæsar Adimari con fronted him, and Gundulf fairly trembled for the result. Adimari was bold to a fault, but seldom cool ; and now, either taken by surprise at Gerardo's courtesy, or over anxious, as he saw the train of ladies about to arrive, he presented his spear somewhat hastily ; and, as ill-luck would have it, only grazed the neck of the boar.

Thus escaping, the brute became more enraged, burst among the surrounding hounds, did more havoc among them, and, in fighting his way desperately through, met the train of ladies at that instant arrived, headed by the Countess Magdalene and Beatrice. At the sight of him, the barb which Beatrice rode became panic-stricken, and refused to obey her hand. Remaining thus in the very course, the horse received the mad onset of the boar, who, tossing his huge snout, ripped the barb's breast with his sharp tusks, and would have de stroyed the falling Beatrice also, who came to the ground with her slain palfrey, her green skirt bespattered with his blood, and whitened with the boar's foam. But, in the eye and nick of time, a defender sprang to her side out of the thicket behind the Raven's Tree, unsheathed his dagger, and plunged it, fair and firm, into the heart of the boar.

With a struggle or two, the huge brute reeled, but could not recover himself, and fell, a harmless mass, on the grassy sward. Gundulf, for the first time in his life, could not blow a mort. The danger he had all day foreseen, the delay made by his young master, and the death of Woodman in par ticular, had unnerved him ; but presently, when he saw the stranger lift Beatrice, unhurt, from the dying barb, he rallied, and blew a blast loud and strong. Such a bring ing to bay he had certainly never seen in the old lord's time ! But who was this heaven-sent stranger who had sprung Dante a7id Beatrice. 6 forth, in the nick of time, to save the life of Beatrice ? — it was the student from Bologna — Dante Allighieri. " Well and bravely done ! " cried the Hermit, enthu siastically ; " is it you, friend Allighieri ?

I never saw a firmer thrust ; and 'tis a grand boar, too, huge and burly, and was mighty furious, as a bull of Bashan ! " The young Visdomini frowned uneasily. What did all this mean ? Where did that fellow come from ? Why could not he himself have saved her? And while he thus thought, Cæsar Adimari, and the others, looked cool defiance at the stranger. Dante, no less haughty than themselves, explained that he was merely passing through the forest, and, seeing the danger of the lady, had stepped aside and delivered her ; he would have done the same to any other ; nothing could be more simple ; it was mere accident, but he rejoiced he had saved her. The Countess thanked him ; he raised his cap to her and to Beatrice ; and, turning into the forest path, silently went his way. " Who the devil thought of seeing him here ?

" said several who knew him. " A bold, grand youth that, gentlemen ! " said the Hermit ; " something of woodcraft and hawking hath he learned from me, though I say it with all respect ; and he has more ability in the Humanities than any of us ! Our Abbot loves him, and would rejoice if he had grace to join our holy Order ! " This the Hermit said, out of a jovial and kindly good will to the two young people, between whom his practised eye discerned a glance or two that had escaped the other byestanders. Now, for the life of him, the Hermit of the Monk's Ford had never been able to bring himself to thwart a love-passage. It was against nature with him ; but the hunters did not think they would join the Vallom brosan Order if they could despatch a furious boar in so masterly a fashion ! Beatrice was not hurt, only a little shaken.

She stood pale and distressed at the sight before her. The steed, her The Ravens Tree. 7 kindly cousin's gift of the previous day, lay bleeding to death at her feet. She bent down to stroke the poor head that had, but a moment before, been held so proudly, and to hide her tears of useless pity, forgetting in her trouble the rescuer's identity, while grieving, in her gentle heart, for her fallen comrade. Her aunt made her take a restorative, and old Gundulf came up and repeated a charm over her. He, too, had a hazy notion that the stranger had the same lustrous eyes and long black hair, as the hero of the Mai'a and Ariadne dances, in which some of his little grand daughters had held the garlands ; but he kept his own counsel. Gerardo Visdomini busied himself in mounting Beatrice on another horse, not but he too felt uneasy and im patient, although his happiness, at her deliverance, well nigh overpowered him ; yet he could say nothing to her.

Beatrice made a great effort to convince them that all was well. Her colour returned ; her dress was changed for the humbler skirt of one of the waiting-women ; and she smiled gladly, and offered to continue the sport ; but the elder ladies forbade, and the Countess enjoined her returning immediately to the castle. Nay, she herself offered to accompany her ; but the young Visdomini and Cæsar Adi mari were in no mood to let the ladies go ; they remem bered the second boar that had crossed their path not long before, and became clamorous to throw the remaining hounds upon his scent. The Countess and all the ladies remained, save Beatrice, who, with her own tire-woman, and Mistress Fabia, were guided by two grooms back to the castle, while the other dames followed the chase of the second boar.

While these things were occurring, Gundulf had stuck a branch into the ground beside the quarry. To the branch he had fastened a bunch of hawks' bells, to jingle and whistle in the wind. Next, he covered the carcass with green branches, and tied to them strips of red cloth, which he took from his all-containing pockets; then, looking Beatrice. complacently at the boar, he said, " Lie there, now, safely enough, till I send for you for the brisling. Neither beast nor bird will touch you ; they will mistrust all my contrivances, and smell my footprints ; but the poor barb ! what a loss ! and Woodman ! and the dogs ! — 'tis a heavy day ! Beppo, take off my young lady's housings, and spread them carefully on that branch. There, now, my young lords ' Hallo ! hallo ! ' calls old Gundulf, as if he had nought to do or think of ! Come, Beppo, we'll see what they can make of the next one !"

BOOK III.

—

Chapter II. The Cottage Of Stigliola

' Not new to me this prophecy of woe." — (Inferno, Canto xv., 94.) ' Ma un uomo di genio sente piii intensamente e soffre piii fortemente d'un altro." — (Ugo Foscolo, Saggi sopra il Petrarca, p. 47.) The Raven's Tree had resumed its wonted solitude. Around it were traces of the conflict of the boar with the hounds. The sod was cut with horse-prints, and dyed with blood. Motionless, under the scattered branches, lay the boar ; and, beyond him, was the mangled body of the un happy barb. The wind sighed among the trees ; the neighbouring stream prattled among rocky stones ; far off, sounded the echo of old Gundulf's horn, in busy pursuit ; and overhead came the shrill scream of birds, crossing and recrossing against the sky. Beatrice had disappeared ; and the place was solitary and deserted. Dante, whose anxiety to leave the company of the hun ters had made him turn from them in unnecessary haste, was no sooner beyond them, than he felt a desire to revisit the spot where he had left Beatrice.

He recrossed the Monk's Ford, and paused under the Raven's Tree. " Vile brute ! " said he, looking at the boar, " thou liest there, unconscious of the deed thy foul and savage rage had nearly done ! All thy life long thou hast trod down the sweetest flowers — and never knewest them ! The beauty of the green acorn, the elegance of the clustering chestnut, the bloom of the purple sloe, the amber fruits of the vine, were all alike to thee ! Thou wouldest have slaughtered Beatrice, and never known how angelic the form that thy hide had touched ! nor known that thy fell strength had robbed the world of its pearl of beauty ! Insensate brute ! of thy nature thou art dense and foul — and yet I bless thee ! Thou hast given me the felicity of seeing her, and Beal/'ice. 10 of perilling my life for hers !

I thank Thee for it, giver of all good ! " and here he reverently bared his head, and, with clasped hands, turned his eyes to the sky. " Thou orderest all things well ; and the sparrow falleth not to the earth, but Thou knowest it ! " As he spoke, a flock of cranes passed over the small space of sky above the trees. " Going home ! no doubt ! " said Dante ; " so cannot I ! My home — if home I have- — is far from here. I came to watch for a single glance of her passing by ; and I have seen and saved her ! My blessed Beatrice ! I must return soon to the lecturer at Bologna ; but I need not start till night-fall. I know the roads better now than I did last year ; and the Bridge-brethren are kind and friendly to me. I will go to Stigliola's, and inquire what news of Beatrice. She said she was not hurt ; but what is nothing to one of us, may injure a damsel ; ay, the bravest of them !

" He turned from the Raven's Tree, and sought the cottage or hut of the nurse Stigliola. Alp Arslan had brought him from Bologna, and was resting in the hospitable shed of the Brethren of the Bridge ; while his master had come on foot to the woods of Vallombrosa, and sought, at the Hermitage of the Ford, to hear news of Beatrice. Finding no Hermit there, but sounds of hunting near, he had waited by the Raven's Tree for a sight of her he loved. Thus had presented itself the occasion for his delivering Beatrice from destruction. As he had said, it was an accident. The cottage of Stigliola lay outside the village of Paterno, beyond the Monk's Grange. He found its owner absent, a cat sitting on her chair, some goats browsing round the door, and her distaff laid down beside the bee-hives. He entered and sate down, and began to write something.

A while afterwards, Beatrice, who had been able to ride but slowly, fatigued with the steep ascent to Paterno, pro posed to alight and rest with Stigliola ; though the neighbours told how the nurse was absent, but might return ere long. Beatrice sat down within the threshold, while the tire-woman, Stigliola's daughter, went in search of her mother. Accustomed to visit the cottage, familiar with all the ways of its poor mistress, Beatrice never dreamed of any one being there. She sate pensively reflecting on her deliverer, trying to account for his presence at the Raven's Tree, and watching, innocently enough, Stigliola's goats, kids, fowls, and chickens, and a bush of rosemary under the mountain ash tree at the door, and a nest of pigeons. Within, Dante, busied in writing, heard no footfall enter the doorway, but bent over his scroll, unconscious of her nearness.

It was his habit to fall into complete abstraction from surrounding things, his mind full of imaginary forms, qr wrapt in some train of fancy. He had purposed to send Stigliola to inquire for the lady Beatrice's health, and, meantime, his thoughts turned into song. Line followed line upon the scroll, till, having written, he read aloud to himself the following Canzonet : — " My love, my heart, my dreams, my song, To my Beloved One belong. I saw her in the forest green, 'Midst stately dames, a graceful queen. Upon my ravished sight she came, An ecstasy, a light, a flame, That all my soul possess. But danger sudden found her there, The frantic boar but grazed the spear, Then lowered his horrid crest. A sudden spring — a steady blow, A thrill of pain — a starting tear, Only the milk-white barb did show That wounds and death were near.

My love lived on ! oh, happy I, So sweet a life to save ! Witness, my song, this tender sigh, And tell her, Love can never die, — Not even in the grave ! " Upon the stillness of that poor hut, his rich, impassioned voice rose to the ear of Beatrice, an astonishment, a surprise, a marvel. To recognise it; to hush the emotion ofthe discovery; to listen calmly to the beautiful words : who could have an ticipated a joy so great and so unlooked for ? The voice paused. The Canzonet was finished. Beatrice repeated, as in a dream — " And tell her, Love can never die, Not even in the grave ! " Da7ite and Beat7-ice. 12 Then, she turned to the place whence the voice had come ; and, entering further, saw him, and said, " Dante, I have chanced to come here, I have heard your verses, and I know how truly they speak.

Now I owe you my life, and to none other than you would I willingly owe it ! " He was surprised at her apparition, and so overcome by her unexpected presence, that, for a while, he lost the power to answer, except by rising, in courteous reverence, at her approach. " Dante," she continued, " I knew not you were here. I thought you at Bologna, as you wrote my aunt. I came here to rest with Stigliola, but I rejoice to see you ; and oh, if I could ever thank you for saving me from that dreadful wild boar iu the forest ! " " Nay, lady, mention it not. Any other, passing as I did, would have done the same." " Nay, but it was so good. One moment, I saw the terrible creature coming towards me ; I tried to turn the barb, and could not ; I felt that it was struck and wounded; I felt it fall ; I thought all was over.

I remembered you - — it crossed my mind, like lightning, how the death of Beatrice would grieve you. The next, you, yourself, were bending over me, and all was well ! Madonna be praised in paradise ! Have we not friends in Heaven who watch our paths ! My thanks affect you ? Nay, I am not worth tears. . . . May I have the writing ? I think I might be permitted it ; and oh, I should so like to keep it ! " She passed her eye over the scroll, and saw upon it an Angel, which he had drawn* there. The face and features of the Angel were her own. Her eyes, too, like her lover's, became * Dante was a master of the pencil as well as the pen. In the Vita Nuova, he describes himself drawing angels " io mi sedea in parte nella quale ricordandomi di lei, disegnava un Angelo sopra certe tavolette ;" and again, " onde partiti costoro, ritornaimi alia mia opera, cib e., del diseqnare fgnre rfAngeli."

(Vita Nuowa, xxxv.) Leonardo Bruni says of Dante, that he " drew beautifully with his own hand — " e di sua mano egregia mcntc disegnara." Baldinucci states that the great illuminator, Oderigi da Gubbio, studied drawing and painting with Giotto and Dante, under Cimabue. Giotto was eleven years younger than Dante. (See Baldin ucci. Vita d'Oderigi da Gubbio.) dim with tears ; her matchless hands trembled ; a quiver came to her lip, and the not usually pale complexion of that exquisite face, lost its tints of rose in the effort to speak more. " Is there some misery I do not know, sweet lady ? " asked Dante ; " Or do you feel ill at ease ? or does my presence burden you ? " " My soul is sad and weary, dearest friend," replied Beatrice ; " because thanks are all I can give, and they are nothing !

Nay, flatter me not ; where the soul itself would be too little, mere words are nothing indeed ! " " Lady, — to the hungry little is much — I pray you, spare not your words. If they are roses, they will blossom ; if they are thorns, they will defend. I am ready for all things — do not turn from me ! " Beatrice was stifling her own tears. She dared not show too openly the love and sympathy she felt. There was a contest in her breast ; grief for herself, for him. Laws to obey, not her own, nor of her choosing, but strict, firm laws, that ruled, and must rule, her life. A woman magnifies, perhaps, the sorrow by imagination and regret ; but here there was no illusion — it was too real. She grieved for the youth and life that he was wasting at her shrine : a flood of tears nearly started from her pent-up grief ; but no, she conquered it, and, unable to meet his glance, her eyes still rested on the pictured Angels till she grew calm.