Dante's Tenzone with Forese Donati: The Reprehension of Vice 9781442663619

Table of contents :
Contents
Acknowledgments
Introduction: Dante’s Harsh New Style
1 La debita correzione: The Poetics of Insult in the Duecento
2 Ad personam, ad stipitem: Readings of the Sonnets
3 Hellish Echoes: Reminiscences of the Correspondence in Inferno XXIX and XXX
4 The Terrace of the Tenzone: Purgatorio XXIII and XXIV
5 Citations and Interpretations: The Literary Memory of the Sonnets in Boccaccio and Others
Conclusion
Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas
Notes
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

DANTE’S TENZONE WITH FORESE DONATI: THE REPREHENSION OF VICE

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FABIAN ALFIE

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati The Reprehension of Vice

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO PRESS Toronto Buffalo London

© University of Toronto Press Incorporated 2011 Toronto Buffalo London Printed in Canada ISBN 978-1-4426-4223-2

Printed on acid-free, 100% post-consumer recycled paper with vegetable-based inks. Toronto Italian Studies

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Alfie, Fabian Dante’s tenzone with Forese Donati: the reprehension of vice / Fabian Alfie. (Toronto Italian Studies) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-4426-4223-2 1. Dante, Alighieri, 1265-1321 – Criticism and interpretation. 2. Tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati. 3. Donati, Forese, d. 1296. 4. Invective in literature. I. Title. II. Series: Toronto Italian Studies PQ4556.T317A44 2011

851'.1

C2011-903070-5

This book has been published with the assistance of a grant from the Office of the Executive Provost of the University of Arizona. University of Toronto Press acknowledges the financial support for its publishing activities of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP). University of Toronto Press acknowledges the financial assistance to its publishing program of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council.

To Cecilia voi mi date a parlar tutta baldezza; voi mi levate sì, ch’i’ son più ch’io.

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Contents

Acknowledgments

ix

Introduction: Dante’s Harsh New Style

3

1

La debita correzione: The Poetics of Insult in the Duecento

2

Ad personam, ad stipitem: Readings of the Sonnets

3

Hellish Echoes: Reminiscences of the Correspondence in Inferno XXIX and XXX 60

4

The Terrace of the Tenzone: Purgatorio XXIII and XXIV

5

Citations and Interpretations: The Literary Memory of the Sonnets in Boccaccio and Others 100

Conclusion

122

Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas Notes

145

Bibliography Index

207

185

124

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33

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Acknowledgments

I would like to acknowledge the receipt of a Small Grant from the Office of the Vice President for Research and Graduate Studies at the University of Arizona, which allowed me to study on site the manuscripts of the tenzone between Dante and Forese. I would like to thank the staffs of the following libraries for their assistance in consulting the manuscripts and related documents: in Florence, the Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Firenze, the Biblioteca Mediceo-Laurenziana, the Biblioteca Riccardiana, the Biblioteca della Crusca, and the Archivio di Stato di Firenze; in Vatican City, the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana; and in Milan, the Biblioteca Trivulziana. Some supplemental manuscript work was also conducted at the Knights of Columbus Vatican Film Library of Saint Louis University. A portion of chapter 5 was presented at the conference of the American Association of Teachers of Italian held in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, in November 2003. I would like to thank all the participants of the session for their valuable input. In addition, I would like to thank the following people for their advice, feedback, and support in the writing of this book: Jonathan Beck, Steven Botterill, Roger Dahood, Craig Davidson, Christopher Kleinhenz, and Cynthia White. I would also like to extend a special thanks to the University of Toronto Press’s editorial board and readers. Finally, I want to thank my colleagues in the University of Arizona Italian Program for their advice, support, and friendship: Aileen Astorga Feng, Beppe Cavatorta, Van Watson, and Elizabeth Zegura.

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DANTE’S TENZONE WITH FORESE DONATI: THE REPREHENSION OF VICE

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Introduction: Dante’s Harsh New Style

All great authors are multifaceted. There are many ways to view their lives, careers, and masterpieces. Each important literary work casts the writer in a different light, revealing a new aspect of the author’s style, thought, or temperament. Often biographical data produce a similar effect; they can present the author as a malleable human being who reacted to unexpected historical or personal developments. Sometimes the individual’s different faces diverge only slightly from one another, while at other times they contrast sharply. All of this is true of the great medieval poet Dante Alighieri. Some perspectives on Dante are familiar to readers, others less so. Many people would identify Dante as the scriba Dei who culled together many strains of theological thought into the brilliant synthesis that is the Commedia. A different image of Dante emerges when he is regarded through the lens of the dolce stil nuovo: that of the young lyric poet who treated the beloved woman Beatrice as a metaphor of the transcendent. Each of these features of Dante’s bibliography acts as a reminder that he was a three-dimensional person following his own unique trajectory. A singular episode in Dante’s artistic development paints a less familiar portrait. At some time before 1296, Dante engaged in a tenzone, or poetic correspondence, with Forese Donati, a distant relative to his wife Gemma and the brother of the political figure Corso Donati. The six sonnets of their tenzone express slanders of the basest nature. At the very outset of the exchange, Dante portrays Forese’s wife as suffering from a hacking cough thanks to her inadequate night-time coverings, his pun suggesting Forese’s inadequacy in the bedroom. In his subsequent poems of the debate, Dante accuses Forese of gluttony, claiming that, as a consequence, Forese must resort to thievery in order to pay

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his bills. Forese takes none of this sitting down, of course. He insults Dante as a cowardly, impoverished usurer. In each of his three responses Forese depicts Dante’s father, Alighiero Bellincione, unflatteringly: first, Alighiero is bound by some mystical knot, which most likely indicates his abjection; then he is seated in his underclothes alongside Dante’s uncles. In his final sonnet, he proclaims that Dante must be the son of Alighiero because he cannot avenge a relative’s murder, a shameful accusation to a medieval nobleman. In the extant manuscripts, Dante’s contributions to the poetic correspondence always precede Forese’s, indicating that he is the initiator of the exchange. The tenzone with Forese Donati casts light on another facet of Dante: Dante the insulter. At first glance, this image of Dante clashes with some of the others. How shall we reconcile Dante, poeta theologus, with the man who publicly belittled Forese Donati’s wife? The dating of the tenzone with Forese only compounds the problem. As with much of Dante’s biography, his slander of Donati can be dated only loosely, the one firm date for the poetic correspondence being 1296, when Forese died. A reasonable interpretation of Forese’s first sonnet, however, is that he portrays the ghost of Dante’s father, Alighiero Bellincione; Dante’s father died in 1283, thus marking a thirteen-year window in which the correspondence may have occurred. Some scholars consider the correspondence as taking place after Beatrice’s death (1290–96) or the death of Count Guido Novello (1293–96).1 In other words, Dante most likely engaged in the insulting correspondence at the same time as, or just following, his composition of the Vita Nuova (ca. 1293).2 The same poet who developed a ‘sweet new style’ to write about Beatrice also created a harsh new style to denigrate Forese Donati. Some critics explain the change in his poetics by making recourse to a period of waywardness (traviamento) following Beatrice’s death.3 More shall be said of this explanation below, but its main problem is that it cannot be proven. It is just as likely that he wrote the tenzone with Forese while also writing about Beatrice. Still, in many respects, an insulting Dante comes as little surprise. The ugly portrayals of the sinners in Inferno have their roots in his disrespectful characterization of Forese decades earlier. Mockery appears in several of Dante’s minor works as well,4 even though his other texts do not sink to the level of the sonnets about Forese.5 The disparagement of others is not, in short, a characteristic otherwise alien to Dante. Additionally, some of the stylistic qualities of his Commedia, with its biting invective, earthy language, harsh phonic qualities, base references,

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and bodily humour,6 have their germ in the exchange of derisive sonnets. When viewed in this light, the tenzone with Forese Donati constitutes Dante’s most notable experimentation with satire prior to the Comedy.7 The scornful Dante differs from some aspects of his work, but not from the bitterest portions of the Commedia. For centuries, Dante scholars have known about his denigration of Donati,8 and a great number of articles and book chapters have been dedicated to it. In spite of the wealth of information about it, however, to date no book-length study of Dante’s tenzone has been published. Each scholarly publication on the lyric exchange has the tight focus of an article, but none provides a broad perspective on the correspondence with Forese. The aim of this book, therefore, is to explore the interaction with Forese Donati as thoroughly as possible. The question could be raised as to whether the tenzone between Dante and Forese Donati actually deserves an in-depth study. After all, the episode only consists of six fourteen-line sonnets – a mere eighty-four lines – of which half were not even composed by Dante. Any single canto of Dante’s Comedy is longer, as are many of his canzoni. And, of course, many other aspects of Dante’s literary production deserving of scholarly attention still await analysis. What makes the insolent correspondence different from those other literary phenomena? In a nutshell, Dante scholarship should not discount it, because the author of the Comedy did not. In Purgatorio XXIII and XXIV, Dante arrives on the terrace of gluttony and meets the ghost of Forese Donati. Forese’s mere presence in the afterworld calls to mind the lyric exchange, but the author also laces the cantos with reminiscences of their derisive verse. Moreover, those cantos are only one instance of several where Dante evokes the experience of the tenzone in his masterpiece. Clearly, by the time Dante composed the Commedia he considered the exchange with Forese to have marked an important phase in his artistic development. And if Dante’s own estimation of the tenzone with Forese did not suffice, Giovanni Boccaccio borrows three times from the sonnets, twice in his great work the Decameron. He too, therefore, deems the irreverent sonnets to have some relevance. Since two authors of the magnitude of Dante and Boccaccio refer to the correspondence with Donati, literary historians should take note of it. Undoubtedly, one deep reservation about the tenzone between Dante and Forese nowadays derives from its libellous subject matter. In the modern world, we tend to view slurs as the utterances of petty individuals, and hence as devoid of any real significance. Such was not the

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view of the Middle Ages. In thirteenth-century Florence, injurious verse was quite common. Beginning in the twelfth century, medieval literary theorists viewed comedy as the polar opposite of tragedy, and justified both genres through their respective ethical functions; tragedy praised virtuous individuals and actions, while comedy castigated the sinful.9 Both genres reinforced traditional moral behaviours and attitudes. For centuries, therefore, literary theorists had actually condoned the literary use of insult because it played a vital social role. It publicly placed offensive activities on display so that the readers would reject and chastise them. But insults cannot be studied in the abstract. Invective strikes a particular individual, and therefore that person’s unique traits and lifehistory are relevant. At the same time, people are not insulted merely because they are unique characters with specific existential experiences; instead, reprehension targets them as synecdochic for the sociological and moral categories into which they fall. The seventh bolgia of fraud in Inferno serves as a case in point. Dante has just observed the hellish transformations of the thieves, who eternally change back and forth from serpent-like creatures into human forms. But in the first tercet of Inferno XXVI he does not denigrate the thieves themselves. Instead he inveighs against the city of Florence (‘Godi, Fiorenza, poi che se’ sì grande / che per mare e per terra batti l’ali, / e per lo ’nferno tuo nome si spande!’ ll. 1–3).10 The poet underscores the dual conception of identity that is intrinsic to derision. The thieves are individuals, of course, which is why they suffer personally; but they are also symbolic of their citizenship. The complex notion of identity is not specific to the passage of the thieves, but rather provides the dramatic force of much of the Commedia. Characters are both individuals and representatives of their groups, whether political, familial or behavioural. The very same double perspective must be maintained when analysing literary insults like those contained in Dante’s tenzone with Forese Donati: their insults hit the individual and the group that he represents. Therefore, biographical information about the two literary antagonists is of high importance. What follows is a brief outline of their two biographies, with emphasis on the information that may elucidate passages of the six sonnets. Forese Donati belonged to one of the prominent families of the Florentine urban nobility. The Donati traced their lineage to the eleventh century, and were central to the development of civic life in Florence. On 29 October 1065, their ancestor Fiorenzo, known as

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Barone, founded a hospital in the Borgo Pinti quarter of Florence. The hospital was named after Saint Paolo di Razzuolo but was known locally as Pinti. Barone’s great-grandson, Donato, gave his name to the family, and Donato’s sons, Vinciguerra and Ubertino, founded the two branches of the family. Barone was not the only member of the family to sponsor hospitals. Ubertino’s granddaughter Maria, Dante’s motherin-law, willed money to several hospitals in 1315, including the hospital of Saint Gallo.11 The impact of the Donati clan on the life of the city was not only positive, however. One member of the Vinciguerra branch, Forese’s grandmother Gualdrada, was central to the split between the Florentine Guelphs and Ghibellines. In 1215, Buondelmonte de’ Buondelmonti was betrothed to the daughter of Lambertuccio degli Amidei, but Gualdrada convinced him to break off the engagement and marry her daughter instead; the affronted Lambertuccio plotted Buondelmonte’s murder, which resulted in the internecine conflict.12 Readers of Dante’s Comedy are familiar with this historical episode because he refers to it in the sixteenth canto of Paradiso (ll. 136–47). During the lifetimes of the two literary antagonists, the reputation of the Donati had fallen. Forese’s uncles Cianfa and Buoso were notorious as thieves;13 indeed, the latter may be the same Buoso found in the circle of the thieves in Inferno XXV.14 Forese’s father Simone helped rewrite an uncle’s testament after he, also named Buoso, had passed on. The story is famous to this day, because it figures prominently in Inferno XXX, as well as in Giacomo Puccini’s opera Gianni Schicchi. Since it may be the subtext for one of the sonnets, it is necessary to repeat it here. Gianni Schicchi was renowned as an impersonator, so he pretended to be Buoso Donati on his deathbed. After the notary arrived, Gianni willed a number of Buoso’s things to Simone, who was with them in the room. But Simone then had to stand by helplessly as Gianni also bestowed upon himself some of Buoso’s prized possessions. Perhaps most importantly, Gianni took Buoso’s mule, which was famous as the best draft animal in all of Tuscany.15 The problems of the Donati family continued into the following generation. Corso Donati, Forese’s brother, forced two of their sisters, Piccarda and Ravenna, to leave convents. At some time between 1285 and 1288, Corso kidnapped Piccarda from monastic life, and married her to Rossellino della Tosa.16 Ravenna Donati, a widow, had withdrawn to the convent with her two daughters; fearing the loss of their inheritance to the monastery, Corso compelled her to leave the convent and placed her daughters under his tutelage. A long legal battle

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ensued, in which appeals were made to the Pope, and Corso eventually divided the inheritance with the church.17 Little is known about Forese’s brother Sinibaldo, except that in June 1300 he was exiled from Florence because of Corso’s violence.18 Due to activities such as these, public esteem for the Donati had dropped to the point that they were given the nickname ‘Malefami’ (‘Infamous’).19 Relatively little is known about Forese Donati’s life. For instance, some debate has occurred regarding the identity of Forese’s mother.20 But one text has surfaced that may help to identify her. The manuscript Firenze II.iii.343 contains an anonymous history of the strife between the Guelphs and the Ghibellines during the first half of the thirteenth century.21 Nestled within that history (ff. 84v–85r)22 there appears a brief anecdote about Contessa Donati (a name shortened to Tessa).23 While the passage may be apocryphal, it clearly identifies Madonna Contessa Donati as Corso Donati’s mother. It also helps to date her biography because Emperor Frederick II (d. 1250) is frequently mentioned throughout the chronicle as still alive. Corso Donati joined the Council of One Hundred, an office that required its members be at least twenty-five years old, in 1278. Therefore, Corso was born no later than 1253,24 which would make Contessa a young woman in the 1240s. Whatever the credibility of the anecdote itself, it is probably based upon actual facts about Forese Donati’s mother. The identity of his mother is not the only dubious area of Forese’s biography. The date of Forese’s birth is unknown, although he may have been older than Dante. For political reasons Forese had been betrothed to Jacopa, the daughter of the Ghibelline Count Guido Novello, but the marriage never took place.25 The betrothal might shed light on the tenzone between Dante and Forese because Guido Novello’s family, the Counts Guidi, figures in one of Dante’s poems. Dante highlights the economic differences between the Counts Guidi and the impoverished Forese; the wealth of the Counts Guidi was legendary at the time, giving rise to the proverbial expression, ‘You live more comfortably than the Count in Poppi [one of their castles]’ (‘Tu stai più ad agio che ’l Conte in Poppi’).26 In the Commedia, Dante identifies Forese’s wife as Nella, and the date of their marriage is unknown.27 Dante’s son Pietro claims that Nella was of the Frescobaldi clan.28 Pietro’s information may be important because during the 1290s the Frescobaldi were allied with Cerchi in their struggles against the Donati.29 In other words, Forese’s household may have been split by the internecine strife. Forese died on 28 July 1296.30 According to the Florentine commentator of the

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Commedia known as the ‘ottimo commento,’ Dante was present at Forese’s deathbed.31 The ‘ottimo commento’ carries some weight, since its author may have known Dante personally, and the commentary was written between 1333 and 1340.32 Much more is known about Dante than about Forese; therefore, only the facts pertinent to understanding the tenzone will be listed below. Forese died in 1296, so this discussion will focus on the first three decades of Dante’s life. In cantos XV and XVI of Paradiso, the poet stresses that the aristocracy of the Alighieri family was derived from his greatgreat-grandfather’s participation in the Second Crusade. Yet several historians have questioned whether Cacciaguida’s knighthood actually conferred hereditary nobility on the Alighieri. They note that the Alighieri did not appear on any of the lists of Guelph families exiled after the battle of Montaperti in 1260; they were not specifically named as magnates to be exempted from power in the Ordinances of Justice in 1293; they did not demonstrate any of the trappings of nobility; indeed, Dante seems to be the first of the Alighieri to hold any public office associated with membership in the urban aristocracy.33 Records of business transactions, dated 22 March 1246, in the Archivio degli Spedali of Prato, show that Dante’s father Alighiero Bellincione repeatedly lent money for interest.34 As other documents demonstrate, Alighiero worked alongside his brothers Bello, Gherardo, and Donato.35 The four brothers were not the first generation of the family to engage in trade, as their father Bellincione is also listed on a Pratese document of 21 March 1246 regarding the sale of land to Toringo Pugliese.36 Much of the family, it seems, was involved in commerce and, worse, moneylending, activities deemed antithetical to the noble values espoused by thirteenth-century Florentine society.37 These questions about the nobility of the Alighieri are similar to those raised by Forese Donati. In 1277, at the age of twelve, Dante became betrothed to Forese’s cousin, Gemma Donati, although the date of their marriage is currently unknown.38 In 1280, Dante’s second cousin, Geri del Bello, was murdered. Forese certainly knew about Geri’s murder because the Donati possessed a tower on via San Martino next to Geri’s house. In one of his sonnets, Forese wonders openly why Dante avoids seeking vengeance, suggesting a link to Geri del Bello’s death. In Inferno XXIX, Geri del Bello curses Dante for not avenging his murder. By placing his second cousin in the Comedy, Dante acknowledged that none of the Alighieri had yet avenged Geri’s murder. Lino Pertile provides a reading of the Geri del Bello episode of Inferno XXIX, suggesting that the poet placed it there to

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remind his family’s enemies that the Alighieri were nobles, bound by rules of vengeance, and that they had not forgotten the injury done to one of their kin.39 Pertile’s interpretation implies that Dante used Inferno XXIX, in part, as a corrective to Forese’s accusations in the tenzone. Since Geri’s murder may figure in the correspondence with Donati, it may be helpful to examine it more closely. Accounts differ as to the identity and motivation of Geri del Bello’s assassin. According to Dante’s son Pietro, Geri was killed by ‘Brodarium de Sacchettis.’ It is plausible that a member of the Sacchetti was involved, since the Alighieri made peace with that family in 1342.40 Other commentators on the Commedia such as Jacopo della Lana, Francesco da Buti, and the ‘anonimo fiorentino’ state that the killer was a member of a family known either as Gerini or Geremei.41 According to da Buti (ca. 1370), Geri del Bello’s father was murdered by one of the Gerini, and therefore Geri sought vengeance. Francesco da Buti provides the narrative. Since it might assist in the interpretation of Inferno XXIX, it is cited fully here. Geri, da Buti writes, si contraffece a modo di un povero lebbroso, avendosi fatto dipignere sì che parea lebbroso, e, passando da casa i Gerini, si restò al maggior della casa che era armato, e domandolli bene per l’amore di Dio, e disse: Messere, ecco la famiglia del potestà, riponete l’arme. Costui entrò in casa, e pose giù l’arme et uscissi fuori; allora Geri lo percosse d’uno coltello ch’avea sotto, et ucciselo. Avvenne poi caso che uno di casa i Gerini andò potestà di Fucecchio, e con lui andò un dì alla cerca per l’arme. Scontrò questo Geri ch’era capitato a Fucecchio per suoi fatti, e, cercatolo s’elli avea arme, e non trovandogliele, lo percosse con un coltello nel petto et ucciselo.42 [he] disguised himself as a poor leper, having had himself painted so that he looked leprous, and passing by the Gerini house, he stopped by the major of the house who was armed, and requested food, for the love of God. And he said: ‘Messer, there is the family of the potestà, put down your weapon.’ He [the major] entered the house and put down his arms, then came out. Then Geri struck him with a knife he had hidden, and he killed him. It happened by chance that one of the Gerini household became potestà of Fucecchio, and one day he went out in search of arms. He encountered this Geri, who had wound up in Fucecchio for his business, and having searched him to see if he had arms, and not finding any upon him, he struck him in the chest with a knife and killed him.43

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In his great work, Dante places his second uncle with the sowers of discord, but he may have links to the pit of the impersonators. In 1283, Dante’s father, Alighiero Bellincione, died. To the extent that it can be ascertained, Dante’s relationship with his father needs to be examined. But first, a caveat: it is always problematic to discuss the psychological motivations of an author, and particularly so when that author lived almost seven centuries ago. An author as subtle as Dante certainly had a myriad of reasons for choosing people and subjects to introduce into, or conversely to omit from, his works. With this caveat firmly in mind, however, Dante’s works are suggestive about his attitude toward Alighiero. Dante did not hold the merchants and moneylenders in high esteem, but instead he repeatedly expressed disdain for them.44 As Dante biographer Stephen Bembrose writes: ‘Certainly both his father and grandfather had at one time acted as moneylenders (though this is something the poet is not keen to tell us about).’45 Not only does Dante avoid discussing Alighiero’s career, but, throughout all of his works, Dante makes no mention whatsoever of Alighiero at all.46 Dante’s silence about his father is particularly striking when compared to the father-figures who do appear in the Commedia.47 The most important father-figure of the Comedy is his great-great-grandfather Cacciaguida, whom the pilgrim proclaims as his true father in Paradiso  XVI (‘Voi siete il padre mio,’ l. 16). That Dante supplants Alighiero with someone else suggests that he viewed his father as inadequate in some way. Thus, Forese’s repeated slanders of Alighiero Bellincione may have had a personal significance for Dante. During the decade of the 1280s, Dante was quite active. Dante may have twice participated in military campaigns, in 1285 and again in 1289, although his presence in both is not entirely certain.48 In June 1290, however, Beatrice died,49 and Dante offers hints that he entered a dubious period in his life following her death, the so-called period of waywardness (traviamento).50 The nature of this waywardness is not at all clear. In his writings, Dante first speaks of it metaphorically as a new love affair,51 and he then explains it straightforwardly as a strong interest in philosophy.52 In the Convivio, Dante claims that this new interest began in August of 1293.53 In Dante’s magnum opus, however, the poet changes his opinion on those years, no longer casting the episode in a positive light.54 In the Commedia, he seemingly associates that period with the composition of the tenzone as well. When he meets Forese on the terrace of gluttony, he points to Virgil as having turned him from the type of life the two had led together (‘From that life I was turned

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away by the one who goes ahead of me, the other day …,’ XXIII.118–19). Basing their arguments on the passages from Purgatorio, a number of scholars have attempted to clarify the period of waywardness by making recourse to the tenzone with Forese.55 In Beatrice’s absence, those critics write, Dante fell into moral and artistic decadence, as exemplified by the trivial derision of Donati.56 To be sure, not all scholars are in agreement about the interpretation of the traviamento as a moral judgment about his mistreatment of Forese.57 To consider Dante’s ‘waywardness’ as a condemnation of the tenzone would be to misconstrue literary derision in the Middle Ages. It was not a trivial exercise with no deeper meaning than a Friar’s Club Roast; instead, it was part of the moral function of literature. For Dante to reject the poetics of derision would have meant rejecting many portions of the Commedia itself. Furthermore, to relate his waywardness to the derogatory style would be to view his biography as a series of mutually exclusive stages through which he passed: first Dante was a stilnovist, then a jocose poet, then a political thinker, and so on. Clearly human and artistic development does not follow so neat a path. It is entirely possible that he composed both his sweet poetry in praise of Beatrice and his harsh verse condemning Forese during precisely the same phase of his life. Since Dante’s writings are not clearer regarding the period of waywardness, we may never be certain about just what it entailed.58 The poems of the tenzone with Forese also reflect the historical developments in the Florentine commune. The years in which the two poets publicly slandered one another, the 1280s and 1290s, comprise a period of difficulty for the Florentine magnates. While a large percentage of the Florentine urban nobles were rentiers or ‘idlers’ (iscioperati),59 many also engaged in commercial enterprises.60 At the same time, many nonnoble merchants purchased titles, married into noble families, or, at the very least, took on the trappings and attitudes of the aristocracy; the result was a mixed class of patricians such as that decried by Dante in Paradiso XVI.67–8).61 Despite the importance of commerce during the thirteenth century, the ethos of the Italian communes remained firmly aristocratic.62 Part of the noble mentality was the importance of carrying out vendettas, or blood-feuds, which therefore posed a threat to the life of the commune.63 In 1281, the families officially designated as ‘magnates’ – the term ‘noble’ was by then legally meaningless64 – were required by the Florentine commune to post a money bond, which would be confiscated in the event of serious breaches of the law, in

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particular for violent actions; among the families specifically mentioned were the Donati.65 Throughout much of the 1280s, the non-noble popolani controlled the government and restricted the magnates by passing anti-vendetta laws.66 The reforms were twofold, in that they allowed the guilds to have power in the government of the commune, and alleviated the oppression of the popolani at the hands of the upper classes.67 The antimagnate sentiment was reinvigorated in the early years of the following decade.68 The climate of the early 1290s led to the priorate of Giano della Bella (1292–93), who spearheaded an attack on the abuses of the magnates through the Ordinances of Justice.69 By the end of 1292, the Ordinances established the primacy of the guilds in controlling the Priorate, effectively removing the magnates from political office.70 Though some historians viewed the situation in Florence as a class struggle,71 it is probably more accurate to describe it as a simple struggle for order.72 Marvin B. Becker writes that, through the establishment of such laws, ‘the hegemony of the Adimari, Bardi, Cavalcanti, Donati, Frescobaldi, Mozzi, Rossi, and others over civic life was disrupted.’73 After Giano della Bella’s priorate, the magnates split over how to respond to the anti-magnate atmosphere. The non-noble merchant Vieri de’ Cerchi advocated a conciliatory approach, while Corso Donati wanted to reassert the traditional rights of the aristocracy to dominate society. Their differences eventually led to the factional warfare between the White Guelphs (Cerchi) and the Black Guelphs (Donati) of the last five years of the thirteenth century. The socio-political situation regarding the Italian urban magnates resulted in a broad cultural debate about the nature of nobility. Even though pure-blooded aristocrats were no longer the norm, the concept of nobility persisted and was hotly contested during the latter part of the thirteenth century.74 The controversy about nobility centred on the essence of aristocracy, and focused in particular on the relationship between hereditary honours and true moral character. Carol Lansing poses the question facing politically minded thinkers of the age: ‘If nobles acted not as society’s protectors but rather as a threat to public order then in what sense could they be considered noble?’75 The traditional notion of the aristocracy, which was ultimately derived from Aristotle, posited morality as a characteristic equally important to that of inherited prestige. During the thirteenth century the two Aristotelian criteria were challenged as insufficient, and some people like Dante believed that only inner nobility – virtue – counted.76 Dante repeatedly returned

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to the question of nobility during his lifetime, and his views evolved over time.77 Nonetheless, throughout his writings, Dante stressed that nobility meant more than merely the possession of wealth, and was derived from the nobility of heart.78 Dante was not alone in his distinguishing of morality from inheritance in his definition of true nobility. Rather, the distinction between patrimony and virtue of spirit underlay many of the source texts in the thirteenth-century debate about nobility.79 In their correspondence, Dante and Forese each cast the other as the representative of his respective family in the light of the debates about nobility. In his sonnets Dante recalls the various crimes of the Donati clan along with the personal failings of Forese. Since they lack virtue, he asks, are the Donati truly noble? In turn, Forese notes that the Alighieri do not behave according to the precepts of medieval aristocracy. Instead they act like merchants by sullying their hands with trade and usury, and arranging an expedient marriage between Dante and his own cousin Gemma. Why, the Alighieri do not even avenge violent affronts perpetrated against them! Forese, in short, answers Dante’s question with the same question: are the Alighieri truly noble? The tenzone between Dante and Forese is not, therefore, merely an exchange of petty insults, but a document of the Florentine debates about nobility in the 1280s and ’90s. Their mutual denigration is merely a microscopic version of the greater social and moral question of nobility that Dante returned to repeatedly throughout his career. It is not coincidental that references to Paradiso XVI recur throughout this introductory chapter. Its assertion of the hereditary nobility of the Alighieri (l. 1), its positioning of Cacciaguida as Dante’s true father (l. 16), the complaint against the mixed magnate class (ll. 67–8) the evocation of the ancient Florentine houses (ll. 88–139), and the memory of the start of the civil war between the Guelphs and Ghibellines (ll. 140–54) make it one of Dante’s final statements about nobility. In my opinion, Paradiso XVI constitutes, at least in part, a rebuttal of Forese’s charges. That Dante and Forese treat each other as epitomizing of the thirteenthcentury nobility is the central concept of this book. The debated notion of nobility at the end of the Middle Ages appears in some form or another in most of the chapters, acting as a unifying theme throughout. The first chapter examines the tradition of poetic vituperation both as theorized and as practised in the Duecento. It first treats the medieval definition of the comic style as the reprehension of vice. Comedies were considered a moral art, engaged with the social, political, and ethical questions of the age. The chapter then focuses on Dante’s

Introduction: Dante’s Harsh New Style

15

literary predecessors so that the thirteenth-century poetics of insult can be examined. Despite Dante’s greatness, his poetry did not appear ex nihilo. Rather, he absorbed and appropriated literary forerunners, transforming their statements into his own unique voice. In fact, both Dante and Forese borrowed turns of phrase from the thirteenthcentury master of poetic reprehension, Rustico Filippi. In Filippi’s satire the condemnation of the sinful played a political role in the 1270s. Filippi set the stage for the socio-political poetics of the tenzone with Forese. The chapter closes with two texts that reveal some of Dante’s beliefs about insulting literature in evidence during the 1290s. The second chapter is devoted to a close reading of the correspondence. As the proverb states, the devil is in the details. Both poets – but particularly Dante, of course – are expert versifiers who composed complex works. These texts are not simple statements of fact about each other’s vices, but poetry following established aesthetic strictures. In order to reveal the subtlety of the insults, their poetic language, rhymes and off-rhymes, phonic qualities, and suggestive insinuations must be analysed. Each poet crafted his lyrics with a combination of highly idiosyncratic expressions designed to inveigh against the other’s flaws. The two authors took an expansive view of each other’s failings, each treating the other as an objective correlative for the depravity in the thirteenth-century Florentine commune. The third, fourth, and fifth chapters analyse the impact of the tenzone on subsequent literature. Chapters 3 and 4 are dedicated to its importance in Dante’s artistic development and specifically look at his evocations of it in his masterpiece. In the first of the two passages from the Comedy, Inferno XXIX and XXX, with Forese’s accusation of cowardice still ringing in his ears, the author relates the cryptic encounter with his second cousin Geri del Bello. Within the one hundred lines of the discussion of Geri, he views the mad soul of Gianni Schicchi, the accomplice of Forese’s father Simone. He thus structures the two cantos to be interpreted together, and positions the tenzone as the subtext for the events narrated therein. By laying out the misdeeds of Geri del Bello and Gianni Schicchi side-by-side, he indicts both the Alighieri and the Donati clans and the class to which they belong. The references to a degenerate aristocracy in Inferno XXIX and XXX seemingly confirm that Dante understood sonnets to be part of the thirteenth-century discourse on nobility. The major recollection of the exchange with Forese in the Comedy, discussed in chapter 4, occurs in Purgatorio XXIII and XXIV. Thanks to

16

Introduction: Dante’s Harsh New Style

the presence of Forese through the two purgatorial cantos, the tenzone is never far from mind on the terrace of gluttony. The poet employs the memory of Forese both as a tenzonante and as a glutton to highlight what thirteenth-century moralists called the sins of the mouth: the links between improper eating and improper speech. This chapter builds upon the moral basis for literature, as discussed in chapter 1, as the praise of the virtuous (tragedies) and the blame of the sinful (comedies). Dante undergirds the two cantos in Purgatorio with references to praise and blame in order to develop the theme of the appropriate and inappropriate uses of the mouth. The recollection of the tenzone with Forese serves to underscore the ethical message of the Commedia and not as a repudiation of the earlier invective against Donati, as it has sometimes been described. The fifth chapter focuses on the influence of the tenzone on authors other than Dante. While the correspondence does not possess the literary impact of, say, Dante’s stilnovistic verse, it did have some effect on the evolution of Italian literature. For example, Florentine poets such as Pieraccio Tedaldi and Deo Boni may have copied some of the turns of phrase of the correspondence when crafting their own sonnets. But more importantly, echoes of the poetry appear three times in the works of another great author of Italian medieval literature, Giovanni Boccaccio. Of course, Boccaccio’s borrowings from the tenzone indicate only his own critical understanding of the lyrics, which was not necessarily the same as that of Dante and Forese; nevertheless, his reading of them is significant. In his three narratives, the citations of the correspondence are related to the comedic interactions of noble and nonnoble individuals. In other words, Boccaccio, too, apparently interprets the correspondence as dealing with the question of nobility. On the surface, the sonnets seemingly comprise a negligible episode in Dante’s life, an embarrassing peccadillo best forgotten. But the correspondence cannot be removed from Dante’s literary corpus without distorting the critical picture of him and his works. The poet’s reconciliation of the tenzone with his conception of himself in his maturity is an important component of Purgatorio. Although it comprised a small portion of Dante’s overall literary production, the tenzone changed Dante’s life and art, directly affecting all that came afterwards.

1

La debita correzione: The Poetics of Insult in the Duecento

No artist works in a vacuum. Authors learn from their predecessors, and the literary tradition affects the interpretation of their works. This is particularly true of Dante Alighieri. Throughout his career, Dante consistently assimilated his influences, reworking them so that they became his own. This tendency can be seen in most of Dante’s works, including his three sonnets addressed to Forese Donati. For any analysis of their tenzone to be thorough, its literary context must be examined. The present chapter will highlight the ways in which Dante and Forese received the poetic tradition of slander. In many respects, this chapter consists of criticism of the predecessors of Dante and Forese more than of the two poets themselves. All the texts discussed below have been selected because of the plausibility – if not the outright certainty – that they directly impacted the six sonnets. At the end of the chapter Dante’s writings will be examined to illustrate how he interpreted the poetics of reprehension during the 1290s. Scholarship frequently views derision (known as vituperium or improperium) as central to the tradition of comic verse, sometimes called jocose poetry.1 Yet despite the importance of literary slander, it has been infrequently studied and is often poorly understood. The first impulse is to read it interpersonally. Two individuals hated each other; perhaps one was right to hate the other, or perhaps it speaks of his own failings that he did so.2 This approach certainly has some validity, because the two individuals were indeed inspired to malign one another publicly; but it also misses the far broader implications of reprehension. Insults in the Middle Ages not only involved the particular individuals, but also related to the larger economic, social, and political context.3 Identity, after all, is not merely personal, but also entails the myriad

18

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

social and political groups to which someone belongs. Injurious speech often strikes at a person as a member of a socially defined group by a member of another group.4 Throughout the Middle Ages, theorists and practitioners of reprehension acknowledged its social dimension. The tenzone (plural, tenzoni) was a genre frequently associated with denigration, and it, too, communicated a social message. Technically speaking, the literary term tenzone was not necessarily synonymous with insulting verse. Many Sicilian and Tuscan poets engaged in tenzoni that are not outwardly derisive in any way.5 Yet throughout the Middle Ages tenzoni reflected competitive ideals applied to intellectual discourse.6 Dante’s teacher Brunetto Latini, for example, highlighted the adversarial nature of tenzoni. In the Tresòr, he derived the etymology of the term tenzone directly from the Latin contentio, implying an antithesis.7 At its core the lexeme tenzone implied a contest between two or more writers, each hoping to outdo the other(s). Hence, tenzoni frequently resulted in derision even with regard to academic questions. Although etymologically related to the Latin contentio, the word tenzone is the Italianization of the Provençal term tenson (or tenso). In the Provençal literary tradition, the tenson was an actual dialogic form, in which two or more poets participated. The poets contributed alternating strophes in which they expressed opposing viewpoints on a given topic.8 The second poet followed the poetic form established by the first, often utilizing many of the other person’s rhymes.9 Patricia Hagen calls the Provençal tenson acommatic, that is, a genre that treated human beings in society.10 As Hagen notes, dialogue lay at the heart of the tenson.11 From its inception in Provence, the tenson was a social art because people used them to debate questions of cultural relevance. Brunetto Latini was one of the earliest Italian theorists of tenzoni and he, too, suggested that they have social ramifications. Commenting on Tully’s rhetoric in his La rettorica, Brunetto expressed his opinions about the historical development of tenzoni, relating tenzoni to the disputations held in the courts about matters of public policy.12 According to Latini’s commentary, the literary term tenzone evolved out of political or social debates. He depicted a hypothetical advisor who stands in a council and urges a particular course of action. Afterwards, E poi ch’elli à consigliato e posto fine al suo dire, immantenente si leva un altro consigliere e dice tutto il contrario che àe detto colui davanti; e così è […] cominciata la tencione; e sopra i loro detti, che sono varii e diversi, nasce questione, se colui avea bene consigliato o no.13

The Poetics of Insult in the Duecento

19

And once he has counselled and brought his speech to an end, immediately another counsellor stands and says the complete contrary of that which the former has said; and thus has […] the tenzone begun; and questions are born over their speeches, which are varied and different, as to whether he has counselled well or not.

Brunetto then drew a connection between civic discourse and tenzoni: Cosìe usatamente adviene che due persone si tramettono lettere l’uno all’altro o in latino o in proxa o in rima o in volgare o inn altro, nelle quali contendono d’alcuna cosa, e così fanno tencione.14 Thus it usually happens that two persons send letters to one another, either in Latin, or in prose, or in rhyme, or in the vernacular, or otherwise, in which they dispute about something, and thus they engage in a tenzone.

Latini understood the term tenzone to mean a literary disputation. He accurately described the practice of exchanging lyrics expressing different opinions on a topic. His account of its range of application was expansive, including vernacular languages and Latin, and both prose and poetry. Latini then proposed an all-encompassing definition of literature; literature of any sort, which requests that its recipient take any sort of action, can be called a tenzone: Ma chi volesse bene considerare la propietà d’una lettera o d’una canzone, ben potrebbe apertamente vedere che colui che lla fa o che lla manda intende al alcuna cosa che vuole che sia fatta per colui a cui e’ la manda. Et questo puote essere o pregando o domandando o comandando o minacciando o confortando o consigliando […] Ma quelli che manda la sua lettera guernisce di parole ornate e piene di di sentenzia e di fermi argomenti, sì come crede poter muovere l’animo di colui a non negare, e, s’elli avesee alcuna scusa, come la possa indebolire o instornare in tutto. Dunque è una tencione tacita intra loro, e così sono quasi tutte le lettere e canzoni d’amore in modo di tencione o tacita o espressa.15 But whoever considered well the property of a letter, or of a canzone, could clearly see that the person who writes it, or who sends it, does so because he wants something to be done by the person to whom he sends it. And this request can be made either by praying or asking or commanding or threatening or comforting or advising […] But the one who sends the

20 Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati letter arms it with ornate words and sentences full of firm arguments, so that it can move its recipient not to deny the request, or, if he has some excuse for doing so, to weaken it or destroy it entirely. Therefore, there is a tacit tenzone between them, and thus are almost all letters and love canzoni a type of either tacit or open tenzone.

Latini, in short, defined tenzoni as poetic correspondence on a social issue, as a natural extension of civic rhetoric. Within his conception of tenzoni he included all literary forms that seek any form of action as a response. Recently, Claudio Giunta has studied the evolution of the technique of the tenzone in medieval Italian literature. Giunta explores the many ways that Italian artists developed and modified the techniques of tenzoni.16 The most notable difference between the Provençal tenson and the Italian tenzone is the preference in Italy for the sonnet as a strophe. Since the sonnet is a freestanding form, Italians who participated in tenzoni approached them in manners different from those employed by their Provençal counterparts. In the Provençal model a certain level of control was maintained during the writing process: the authors composed the work in tandem with their antagonists, and the initiators of the tensons knew the identities of all their respondents; the topic was selected in advance; rhyme schemes were established and followed. Yet due to the nature of the sonnet, the situation in Italy was more complex. Uninvited people could answer,17 or could answer in a manner unintended,18 or they could respond to a sonnet which had no overt intentions to initiate a tenzone.19 Apparently, the only rule constraining Italian tenzoni was that of equal space: for every sonnet sent, the poet had to allow for a sonnet in response.20 The earliest reference to the use of the sonnet in tenzoni in literary treatises appears in the commentary to Francesco da Barberino’s poem I documenti d’amore (ca. 1317). In this disquisition, the commentator defined several different types of tenzoni: Discordium est contentio inter duos, similibus vel diversis concursibus rimarum, tamen serie trattis et utraque parte per unum. Concordium est contrarius intentione modus loquendi, et rimis idem. Contentio est super similibus inter duos de quibuscumque similis ordo et ista tria versiculorum numero non ligantur.21 ‘Discordium’ is a tenzone between two people, with either a similar or a different rhyme scheme, nonetheless flowing in a series, and with each

The Poetics of Insult in the Duecento

21

one on opposite sides. ‘Concordium’ is a way of speaking with a contrary intention, and with the same rhymes. ‘Tenzone’ is a series between two people about similar things in and with whatever similarities, and these three genres are not bound by any number of verses.

Depending on the type of tenzone they wrote, Italian tenzonanti had the freedom to decide whether or not they would use the rhymes of the other writer. Additionally, Italian tenzoni could be as long or as short as desired by all of the writers involved. There existed no firm limit, the commentator writes, to the number of verses constituting a tenzone. A tenzone could continue for as long as the participants desired. If the two writers wished to continue butting heads, their tenzone could be extended at will. The definition of a discordium is also relevant to the analysis of Dante’s correspondence with Forese Donati. Neither of them uses the rhymes or rhyme scheme of his antagonist. Additionally, their tenzone seemingly gets extended twice, with Dante deriding Forese a second, and then a third time. The definition of a discordium highlights their exchange as a communicative act which unfolded over time, and during which the participants expressed opposing notions about each other. Although distinct from tenzoni, vituperium was conceptually linked to literary exchanges. But because of the nature of thirteenth-century tenzoni in Italy, the poetics of insult also entailed risks on the part of the poet. Given the greater freedom of Italian tenzoni, a stand-alone injurious poem could be rebutted in kind. A derisive lyric could unintentionally give rise to a tenzone if the targeted individual, or someone speaking on that person’s behalf, responded. Poets who derided other people’s faults opened the door to having their own failings publically exposed. Such an outcome may have been unwelcome. In his study of vituperium, Franco Suitner stresses that its ideological foundation was based upon the necessity of maintaining a good reputation among the citizens of the Communes.22 Fame and infamy meant more than the loss of face, as they influenced what was socially accepted to be true.23 As with tenzoni, vituperium was not a poetic technique limited to literary circles, but also impacted the public perception of its writers. Social ramifications were really the point of reprehension. One of the sources for the tenzone between Dante and Forese was a brief citation by the commentator known as the ‘anonimo fiorentino.’ In the Riccardiano 1016 codex, the commentator on the Commedia provides crucial information about the exchange. In the discussion of Purgatorio XXIII the Florentine writes:

22

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati ‘lauctore [i.e., Dante] riprendendolo [i.e., Forese] di questo uitio della gola gli scrisse uno sonetto.’ (f. 248v) ‘the author [i.e., Dante], reproving him [i.e., Forese] of this vice of the throat, wrote to him a sonnet.’

The commentator succinctly furnishes a critical assessment of the style of the correspondence by translating into Italian two key literary terms (‘riprendendolo di questo uitio’; emphases added). All the vulgate discussions of satire use the same vocabulary: the purpose of satire is to censure (‘reprehendere’); its subject matter is vice (‘vitium’).24 Satire held up undesirable behaviours for public ridicule. It enforced social mores by deriding deviations from acceptable norms.25 The anonymous Florentine commentator situates the tenzone of Dante and Forese in the social and moral framework established for satire. This is not to say that the ‘anonimo fiorentino’ necessarily considered the sonnets of the tenzone to be satires per se. Beginning with the introduction of Averroes to European readership, tragedy and comedy were counterpoised to one another, serving diametrically opposite ethical ends; tragedy was called the art of praising the virtuous, while comedy was viewed as the art of blaming the sinful.26 Hermann the German conferred upon comedy an expansive definition, which encompassed the moral function – blaming – classically served by satire.27 The conceptual opposition of tragedy (praise) to comedy (blame) did not remain limited to Averroistic thought but became pervasive throughout the culture.28 In the treatises of some writers, satire was affiliated with the lowest, most humble linguistic register, while comedy had a middling style; other thinkers simply removed satire from consideration, positioning comedy as the poetics of blame, and associating comic writings with both the low and the middle styles.29 Building upon Averroes’ concepts, Conrad of Hirsau asserted that the poetics of ugliness (feditas) and of the obscene (obscenitas), which had characterized comedy, now also characterized satire.30 Depending on one’s definition, either satire functioned as the reprehension of vice, in which case it occupied the lowest linguistic register; or comedy played satire’s moral role, in which case it used a middling style that included the low. The literary assessment by the ‘anonimo fiorentino’ was not unique to Dante’s correspondence with Forese. Similar critical terminology characterized the poetics of the Florentine poet Rustico Filippi (ca. 1230– ca. 1295). Of Filippi’s extant corpus of fifty-nine sonnets, just over half,

The Poetics of Insult in the Duecento

23

thirty sonnets, paint unflattering caricatures of his fellow citizens.31 While many biographical data about Rustico are lacking,32 his contemporaries may have credited him with the development of the topos of improperium in Florence.33 In the years after Rustico’s death, the commentator on Francesco da Barberino’s I documenti d’amore mentioned Filippi. In one passage, the commentator justified love literature and its praise of women. He then cited Filippi as a counter-example: Quid enim Rusticus barbutus et alij quidam, laudis ex vituperiis per eos impintis contra dominas reportarunt[:] vedeant quot et qui eorum super hiis scripta honorant (1:90–1) How is it that Rustico Barbuto [Filippi’s nickname] and certain others get praises from the slanders they imposed upon women; let them see how many – and who – honour their writings beyond themselves.

The commentary explicitly defined Filippi’s invectives against women as vituperium. Like the ‘anonimo fiorentino,’ the commentator of I documenti d’amore applied the moral function of literature to explain insulting verse. Rustico, too, castigated vice. While the literary theorists had discussed vituperation in the abstract, Rustico truly explored its artistic possibilities in the vernacular. Additionally, Filippi’s vituperative verse affected Dante’s literary development, particularly when seen through the lens of Dante’s tenzone with Forese.34 The commentary to Francesco da Barberino’s poem highlights one important motif of Rustico’s poetics: the castigation of women. The centuries-long topos of misogyny had its origins in Patristic texts, which initially served to reinforce monastic celibacy.35 Rustico, conversely, updated misogyny to the historical context of the Florentine Commune. In the sonnet, ‘Da che guerra m’avete incominciata,’ for example, Rustico apparently responded directly to one woman’s previous insult of him.36 He claims that since she has slandered him, he will expose her whorishness (ll. 1–4). He then recalls that on the feast day of Saint Eusebio, he had intercourse with her on the floor of a stall (ll. 5–11).37 Filippi’s bluntness about the woman’s sexuality functions to provoke public condemnation of her. She violated the social code of conduct, and the exposure of her sexual activities constitutes her punishment. Filippi underscored the social component to his verse by also writing of political matters. An avowed Ghibelline, Rustico commented on

24

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

political and military developments in the general European struggles between the Pope and the Emperor.38 Filippi denigrated the Florentine Guelphs, the losers of the battle at Monteaperti,39 as well as rebuking fellow Ghibellines who behaved shamefully.40 Yet the poet satirized politically active individuals by representing them in highly quotidian manners; rather than depict the grand manoeuvres of armies, Filippi portrayed personal details about hygiene, petty household scandals, and squabbles over dowries.41 Thus, Rustico’s poetry conformed to Uguccione da Pisa’s dictum that comedy contains facts pertaining to the lives of private individuals, while tragedy speaks of kings and magnates (‘differunt tragedia et comedia, quia comedia privatorum hominum continet facta, tragedia regum et magnatum’).42 Three sonnets illustrate perfectly Rustico’s approach to portraying the human weaknesses of politically active individuals. He composed a cycle of sonnets about a fellow Ghibelline, Acerbo son of Iacopo di messer Attaviano dell’Acerbo, who, along with his father and brother Neri, was exiled in 1268.43 Acerbo’s brother Cambio was banished from Florence in the following year.44 The scant information about Acerbo is relevant to understanding the poetry, because Rustico apparently wrote the following sonnet following one of Acerbo’s absences from Florence: No riconoscereste voi l’Acerbo, ancor che voi il vedeste molto a sera? Sì fareste, ch’e’ non fue da Viterbo nonn-è ancora una semana intera. Del compagno nol dico, che ’l mi serbo, ché troppo arossereb[b]e ne la cera; in pasto il tegno e tuttavia lo ’nerbo, ché v’era or con via mag[g]iore schiera. Non ch’io v’aprisse, monna lëonessa! Sì gra.lezzo vi vien per la quintana ch’altri avrà quella peverada spessa. Molto vi mostravate piemontana: fatta siete reina, di contessa: Frian v’aspetta quest’altra semana. Wouldn’t you recognize Acerbo even though you saw him mostly in the evening? Surely you would, for he is back from Viterbo now for less than a complete week.

The Poetics of Insult in the Duecento

25

I do not speak about your companion, for I reserve him for later, because he would become far too red in the face; I will pulverize him and strike at him soon, so that he will return with a far stronger group. Not that I pried you open, Milady Lioness! For a great stench came to you from your quintain, but another man will have that thick peppered stew. And you showed yourself to be so Piedmontese [i.e., rustic?] that, from a countess, you have become a queen, and Frian awaits you in another week.

Rustico engages in second-person poetics typical of improperium throughout the sonnet. He poses the rhetorical question of whether someone would recognize Acerbo (l. 1). He implies that the sonnet’s recipient may have been Acerbo’s wife, because she had seen him mostly during the evenings (l. 2). He then insists that she would indeed recognize him, for Acerbo had only been in Viterbo for a week (ll. 2–4). Given the current state of information about Acerbo and the imprecise dating of the sonnet, the reference to Viterbo is highly cryptic. Nevertheless, the suggestion that the Florentine Ghibelline had previously visited Viterbo, one of the strongholds of the Papacy in Latium, may indicate a political undertone to the sonnet.45 Perhaps Acerbo had been in Viterbo on behalf of the Ghibellines, or thanks to his banishment from the Commune. In the following stanza, Rustico implies the reason for the recipient’s inability to recognize Acerbo; in his absence, she has kept company with another man. Rustico declines to speak of the recipient’s companion, save that he promises to batter him at a later time (l. 7). Thus, Filippi introduces violent and military lexicon into the poem (e.g., ‘nerbo,’ l. 7; ‘schiera,’ l. 8), which highlights the aggressive intentions behind the composition of the lyric. Rustico composes the entire sonnet in the second person, so he does not identify its recipient until the ninth verse. At that point, he apostrophizes her as Milady Lioness. In other sonnets, he compares smelly individuals to lions,46 and he emphasizes her stench in the following line (l. 10). He then employs a sexual double entendre, claiming that he did not spread her open. Instead the other man struck at her quintain, the practice target for lances during jousting (‘quintana,’ l. 10). He then returns to the motif of her odoriferous nature, claiming that others enjoy her peppered stew (‘peverada,’ l. 10), a reference to her now unclean genitals. In the final strophe, Rustico implies that her motivation was to

26 Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

advance socially, going from being a countess to a queen (l. 13).47 The final verse is not clear, but Frian (Frediano) may refer to the Florentine neighbourhood of San Frediano, possibly as an allusion to the quarter inhabited by her paramour. Rustico, in short, excoriated a woman who brought shame on a fellow Ghibelline, and he threatened her lover. His poetry helped keep Ghibellines’ wives in line while their husbands struggled for the good of the party. Filippi returned to the topic of Acerbo’s family matters in another sonnet: Volete udir vendetta smisurata c’ha.fatta di sua donna l’Acerbuzzo? La barba lunga un mese n’ha portata orando che dovea far Giova[n]nuzzo. Dio, com’ bene le stette a la sciaurata, quand’ella soferia così gran puzzo! Per quella via ne va da.la cognata, s’altra vendetta nonn-è di Cambiuzzo. Dunque, ben n’anderà per quella via: che ’nmantenente fue passato il duolo che’e la dissotterrò, perché putia. Almen faccia vendetta del figl[i]olo! Ma per quel ch’io spero che ne sia, per un fiorin voglio esser cavigl[i]uolo. Do you want to hear about the great vendetta that Acerbuzzo brought upon his wife? For a month he went about with a long beard preaching much like Giovannuzzo did. God – how she deserved it, the wretch, when she let off such a great stench! He takes the road that leads to his sister-in-law, if there is no other vendetta against Cambiuzzo. Therefore, he would do well to go down that road: but his pain passed as quickly as he dug her up, because she stank. He should at least avenge himself regarding the son! But, from what I expect will happen, I would give a florin to be a peg [i.e., penis?].

The Poetics of Insult in the Duecento

27

Unlike the second-person poetics of the previous sonnet, Filippi composes a third-person depiction of Acerbo’s actions; the third person in this poem is only a ruse, however, as the implication is that it is written to Acerbo himself. Rustico reinforces the impression from the previous lyric that Acerbo’s wife had been faithless during his absence. In this instance Filippi chastises Acerbo himself for his lukewarm punishment of her. Rustico deploys a key word in the incipit line, ‘vendetta,’ a term that will recur two more times during the course of the sonnet (l. 8; l. 12). By explicitly referring to vengeance throughout the poem, Filippi does more than highlight Acerbo’s failings; rather, he indicates that the sonnet itself is her punishment, thereby implying its purpose of castigating vice. Acerbo’s weak revenge upon his wife consists of growing a beard, much like the mendicant preachers of the age (ll. 1–4). Given the rivalry during the Middle Ages between the clerics and the nobility,48 the comparison with a friar is probably insulting. Since the long beard semantically connoted pilgrims,49 it may also comprise an allusion to Acerbo’s travels outside of Florence, mentioned in the former lyric. Rustico then reiterates his comment on Acerbo’s wife’s stench, which resulted from her sexual behaviour (l. 6). He claims that she deserved whatever punishment he meted out, because she emitted a foul odour. The poet suggests the identity of her paramour to be none other than Acerbo’s brother Cambio (l. 8). The language of the first tercet is not entirely clear. Rustico may imply that Acerbo intended to sleep with Cambio’s wife as vengeance, but then discovered that she did not respect her marriage vows either (ll. 9–11). In one sonnet Dante made a similar accusation, suggesting that Forese and his brothers had sex with their sisters-in-law. Rustico exhorts Acerbo to exact revenge for his illegitimate son (l. 12), but no such vengeance is forthcoming (ll. 13). The closing line is unintelligible. It may express Rustico’s wish that he, too, could participate in similar sexual misdeeds (l. 14). As before, Rustico scolds his fellow citizens to induce them to behave in acceptable ways. Aside from its content, this sonnet illustrates Rustico’s stylistic capabilities. With his B-rhymes, Rustico utilizes vocabulary with the diminutive ‘-uzzo’ (‘Acerbuzzo,’ ‘Giovannuzzo,’ ‘puzzo,’ ‘Cambiuzzo’). Dante himself may offer a reason for that particular rhyme. In his literary treatise De vulgari eloquentia (ca. 1303–5), Dante outlined the phonic traits of the lexicon in the highest style. Terms containing geminate ‘z’ and ‘x’ (i.e., geminate ‘s’), Dante wrote, should be avoided by ‘tragic’ poets (II.vii.3, 5);50 such words, however, were still available to writers

28

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

of low comedies. Aspirated consonants detract from the mellifluousness of the lexemes, and therefore should be avoided when treating the most exalted topics (II.vii.3, 5). In these respects, Rustico acted as a stylistic model for both Dante and Forese in their exchange. A third sonnet may similarly denigrate Acerbo, although that interpretation is not certain. In it, Rustico spoke to Cerbiolin about an unidentified man, Ghigo. Some scholars believe that ‘Cerbiolin’ constitutes a variant on the name Acerbo,51 while others identify him as a second man, Cerbiolino son of Leale and grandson of Cerbio del Duomo.52 The latter individual was also a Ghibelline who suffered exile from Florence in 1268. Hence, even if Rustico intended two different individuals with his poetry, he still joined political topics to the castigation of female sexuality: Io fo ben boto a Dio: se Ghigo fosse, ser Cerbiolin, che.ll’hai tanto lodato, per pillicion di quella c’ha le fosse, non si riscalderia, tant’è gelato. Non vedi che di mezzo luglio tosse e ’l guarnel tien di sotto foderato? E dicemi che fuoco anche nol cosse; e’ par figliuol di Bonella impiombato: ché tutto il giorno sol seco si siede, onde ’mbiecare ha.fatte molte panche, se non ch’a manicare in casa riede. Maraviglia che non gli cascar l’anche! ché, se grande bisogno no.richiede, da la sua casa no si partio anche. I swear to God: if Ghigo was, ser Cerbiolin, what you praised him to be, even with the pelt of she who has the pits, he wouldn’t be heated, so cold is he. Don’t you see that he coughs in mid-July, and he keeps his mantle stuffed in his lapel? And he tells me that not even fire cooks him; he seems to be the son of leadened Bonella; for all day long he sits by himself on the bench, for he has made so many of them become warped, and he only returns home to eat.

The Poetics of Insult in the Duecento

29

It is a marvel that his hips don’t collapse! But, were it not for the fact that great need requires it, he would not even have left his house.

The poet discusses two of Ghigo’s failings, his coldness and his obesity. Filippi explains Ghigo’s frozen state again by employing double entendres; he would not become warm even if he wore the fur coat of the woman who has the pits (ll. 3–4). He constructs the two verses around vocabulary possessing double meanings: ‘pelt’ (‘pillicion’), a euphemism for the vagina, and ‘cracks’ (‘fosse’), another clear sexual metaphor.53 In other words, Ghigo is cold precisely because his wife does not have sex with him. Utilizing a turn of phrase that will be borrowed by Dante in the tenzone with Forese Donati, Rustico claims that Ghigo coughs even in the middle of July (ll. 5–6).54 The poet then writes about Ghigo’s weight, asserting that he resembles the son of Bonella (l. 8). He notes that Ghigo has caused benches to warp (l. 10), and wonders why his hips do not collapse from the pressure (l. 12). Rustico is conscious of the moral rationale for his poetics, and crafts his sonnet accordingly.55 The poet again employs ‘comic’ stylistic traits, placing in the highly prominent A-rhyme the voiceless geminate ‘s’ (‘fosse,’ ‘fosse,’ ‘tosse,’ ‘cosse’). Forese Donati will borrow the same A-rhyme, and three of the rhyme words, for one of his contributions to the tenzone with Dante.56 From the outset, Rustico counterposes his sonnet to Ser Cerbiolin’s praise of Ghigo (ll. 1–2). By employing the distinctive terminology of praise (‘laudato,’ l. 2), Filippi calls to mind the moral justification of literature. He defines his poetry as vituperium and positions it as a diametrical opposite of the exaltation of the worthy. While there is little doubt that Rustico influenced Dante, the question remains as to how Dante understood vituperium and tenzoni at the time he slandered Forese. One document composed before or during the years of the tenzone contains language culled from literary treatises. In the Vita Nuova (ca. 1293), Dante transcribes two sonnets (Barbi, par. 8; Gorni, chap. 3).57 In the narrative of the libello – or his ‘little book,’ as he referred to the Vita Nuova – Dante explains that the death of Beatrice’s young friend inspired two lyrics. The second of the two poems, a sonetto rinterzato,58 reads as follows: Morte villana, di pietà nemica, di dolor madre antica, giudicio incontastabile gravoso

30 Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati poi che hai data matera al cor doglioso ond’io vado pensoso, di te blasmar la lingua s’affatica. E s’io di grazia di voi far mendica, convenesi ch’eo dica lo tuo fallar d’onni torto tortoso non però ch’a la gente sia nascoso, ma per farne cruccioso chi d’amor per innanzi si notrica. Dal secol hai partita cortesia e ciò ch’è in donna da pregiar vertute: in gaia gioventute distrutta hai l’amorosa leggiadria. Più no voi discovrir qual donna sia Che per le proprietà sue canosciute. Chi non merta salute non speri mai d’aver sua compagnia.59 Villainous Death, at war with tenderness, timeless mother of woe, judgment severe and incontestable, source of sick grief within my heart – a grief I constantly must bear – my tongue wears itself out in cursing you! And if I want to make you beg for mercy, I need only reveal your felonies, your guilt of every guilt; not that you are unknown for what you are, but rather to enrage whoever hopes for sustenance in love. You have bereft the world of gentlest grace, of all that in sweet ladies merits praise; in youth’s gay tender years you have destroyed all love’s lightheartedness. There is no need to name this gracious lady, because her qualities tell who she was. Who merits not salvation, let him not hope to share her company.

To be sure, Dante’s poem is highly stylized, a far cry from Filippi’s realistic ad hominem attacks; nonetheless, it is reprehensive. Since the

The Poetics of Insult in the Duecento

31

sonnet is an invective against Death, he employs the literary term ‘to blame’ (‘blasmar,’ l. 6) and justifies himself by explaining that her actions have provided him with this particular subject matter (‘matera,’ l. 4). He indicates the social dimension of reprehension by expressing the hope that others will reprehend Death as well (ll. 11–12). The final eight lines discuss how cruel Death took Beatrice’s lovely friend. As with his other lyrics in the libello, Dante immediately follows this poem with a brief critical gloss (Barbi, 8, 12; Gorni, 3, 12). Dante’s analysis of the sonnet is especially concise, only saying that he curses and reviles Death (‘biasimarla […] la vitupero’). The brevity of the passage implies that the critical terminology sufficed to explicate the sonnet. It suggests that Dante had not reconceived the poetics of vituperation at the time of the composition of the Vita Nuova. Instead, his critical analysis indicates a conventional understanding of it. Thus, the sonnet is a document of Dante’s youthful stylistic experimentation, because it treats a courtly situation with vituperative language. A few statements in the Convivio (ca. 1305–7)60 also appear to be based upon a critical understanding of comic literature. In the second chapter of the first treatise, the author addresses the concern that it is not licit to write about oneself: when speaking about someone, the speaker must either praise or blame that person, and to praise or blame oneself is equally wrong (‘parlare d’alcuno non si può, che ’l parladore non lodi o biasimi quelli di cui elli parla,’ I.ii.3). In his treatise he apparently accepts the Averroistic definition of literature as either the praise of the worthy or the castigation of the sinful. He then further explains that the faults must be defects of the will, rather than those derived from ignorance or incapacity: Ancora: del non potere e del non sapere bene sé menare le più volte non è l’uomo vituperato, ma del non volere è sempre, perché nel volere e nel non volere nostro si giudica la malizia e la bontade […] (I.ii.6) Moreover, a person is usually not blamed for not being able or not knowing how to conduct himself properly, but always for not being willing to, because good and evil are determined by what we will or fail to will […]

If reprehension serves the function of correcting vice, then it must target those characteristics within a person’s control. To praise or blame someone to their face should be avoided because it forces the listener to praise or blame him- or herself; but, he stipulates, it can be done when the intention is to correct that person’s sins (‘salva qui la via della debita

32

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

correzione, che essere non può sanza improperio del fallo che correggere s’intende,’ I.ii.11). Thus, the purpose of improperium is the castigation and – importantly – the correction of vice. Odd though it may seem to say such a thing about Dante, in the both the Vita Nuova and the Convivio he showed little sign of expanding upon the standard definition of vituperium for his age. One possible difference is that, in the Convivio, vituperation could be beneficial for the targeted individual. That notion was implicit in the other theorists. But by 1305, he had not yet radically reformulated the medieval definition of ‘comedy.’ In his masterpiece, Dante would invent a poetics that is both artistic and ethical with a voice that is prophetic and biblical.61 Up until the writing of the Convivio, it seems that he still accepted the standard definition of comedy as blaming the wicked, and displayed almost no sign of building upon it. When he wrote the tenzone with Forese Donati, he probably did not conceive of satiric literature in a manner radically different from other thinkers of the time. In conclusion, the analysis of the theoretical texts and vituperative poetry repeatedly illustrates the poets’ acommatic intentions. They did not upbraid others for the simple pleasure of doing so but to dissuade people from immoral actions. Yet one other factor needs to be highlighted: self-control. Whether writing about sexual matters, appetite, or love, the poets consistently denigrate a lack of self-control. Rustico Filippi, furthermore, coupled the inability to control oneself with the loss of control in society, whether the command over one’s family members or the failure of political power. In his Convivio Dante provided a rational explanation of this topos. It only made sense to denigrate those characteristics that a reader could control. To be sure, derisive poets also targeted matters out of a recipient’s control, such as physical stature or name. Yet gluttony, lustfulness, and passion were the hallmarks of this literature. For scholars interested in Dante’s literature, the loss of self-control has a particular resonance; when discussing the Commedia, it is often described with the theological term incontinentia. Medieval comic texts frequently spotlighted incontinentia in its many forms and used it as a social critique. In this way, too, the vituperative poetry of the Duecento could be linked, to some degree, to the upper circles of Dante’s Inferno.

2

Ad personam, ad stipitem: Readings of the Sonnets

Dante’s tenzone with Forese is in part a document of the thirteenthcentury debate about nobility. Their insults are of a dual nature; they strike at each other as representatives of their respective families and class, and also as individuals. Therefore, their insults only make sense in reference to the persons in question. Additionally, Forese Donati and – especially – Dante Alighieri are extremely able poets. They use carefully constructed turns of phrase, double entendres, and slippery allusions. They make reference to each other’s biographies and family histories, and they evoke Florentine derogatory verse such as Rustico Filippi’s. They also follow vituperative aesthetics consisting of harsh phonics, near-, and off-rhymes. But all of this can only be seen up close. What follows, then, are detailed readings of the six sonnets. No analysis of the sonnets would be sound without giving consideration to their codicology (see the appendix for complete information about the manuscripts). Only one codex, the seventeenth-century Vatican Barberiniano Latin 3999 compiled by Federigo Ubaldini, has all six sonnets (ff. 79r–81v). Ubaldini is responsible for the order commonly found in editions of Dante’s lyrics.1 But Ubaldini probably drew from two extant sources (Chigiano L.VIII.305 and Chigiano L.IV.131),2 each of which contains a different portion of Dante’s tenzone with Forese. Thus, the ordering of the six sonnets in Vatican Barberiniano Latin 3999 is likely Ubaldini’s. The other eleven manuscripts form a tradition consisting of three branches. One branch ( ) contains Ubaldini’s first and last pairs of sonnets, and the second (ß), which is related to , has only the last pair. The third branch ( ), which is entirely distinct from the others, transmits Ubaldini’s middle pair of sonnets. Therefore, the exact relationship of these two sonnets to the other four

34

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

poems is unclear. Perhaps Ubaldini’s conjecture was correct and they were the middle of the tenzone; or perhaps they were really the first sonnets of the exchange; or maybe they came after the others. Complicating matters further, the ‘anonimo fiorentino’ suggests that the tenzone might have been larger than six poems, originally including lyrics other than sonnets: ‘many sonnets and things in rhyme’ (‘molti sonetti et cose in rima’). No evidence corroborates the ‘anonimo fiorentino’s’ statement, but it should not be discounted entirely. All of this is to say that critics should not lock themselves into Ubaldini’s ordering when interpreting Dante’s tenzone with Forese, nor should they assume that it comes down to us in a fully integral form.3 Instead, the extant tenzone between Dante and Forese should be viewed as three moments, each a call and response, but how those moments fit together is not certain. The sonnet below opens the tenzone in many of the manuscripts. Dante writes: Chi udisse tossir la mal fatata moglie di Bicci vocato Forese, potrebbe dir ch’ell’ha forse vernata ove si fa ’l cristallo ’n quel paese. Di mezzo agosto la truovi infreddata; or sappi che de’ far d’ogn’altro mese! E no.lle val perché dorma calzata, merzé del copertoio c’ha cortonese. La tosse, ’l freddo e l’altra mala voglia no.ll’adovien per omor’ ch’abbia vecchi, ma per difetto ch’ella sente al nido. Piange la madre c’ha più d’una doglia, dicendo: ‘Lassa, che per fichi secchi messa l’avre’ in casa il conte Guido.’4 Anyone who heard the coughing of the luckless wife of Bicci (called Forese) might say that maybe she’d passed the winter in the land where crystal is made. You’ll find her frozen in mid-August – so guess how she must fare in any other month! And it’s no use her keeping her stockings on – the bedclothes are too short [literally: from Cortona]. The coughing and the cold and other troubles – these don’t come to her from ageing humours, but from the gap she feels in the nest. Her mother, who has more than one affliction, weeps, saying: ‘Alas, for dried figs I could have married her to Count Guido!’5

Readings of the Sonnets

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Dante models his sonnet on Rustico Filippi, who excelled at derogatory third-person caricatures. Dante’s sonnet, too, is primarily in the third person. In the poem, the second person appears briefly (‘la truovi,’ l. 5; ‘sappi,’ l. 6), addressing the readers and not Forese. He does not use the first person at all. The incipit verse (‘Chi udisse’) recalls numerous utterances by comic poets of the Duecento, including Rustico.6 In those instances, Filippi insulted a man by speaking ill of his wife. In this sonnet Dante appropriates a similar role as the vituperator of women. His intention is to shame Forese and the Donati house by shaming Nella. The similarities with Rustico’s poetry are not limited to the sonnet’s general features, though. Nella’s cough (l. 1) and the statement that she freezes in the summertime (ll. 5–6) are clearly elements appropriated from Filippi’s sonnet ‘Io fo ben boto a Dio: se Ghigo fosse’ (Dante: ‘Di mezzo agosto la truovi infreddata,’ l. 5; Rustico: ‘non vedi che di mezzo luglio tosse,’ l. 5). Moreover, Dante’s A-rhyme is consonant with Filippi’s B-rhyme (Dante: ‘-ata’; Rustico: ‘-ato’), while his B-rhyme is partly consonant with Rustico’s A-rhyme (Dante: ‘-ese’; Rustico: ‘-osse’). The intertextuality with Rustico is more than the imitation of a few key expressions because it helps underscore the signification of the sonnet as a whole. In the opening quatrain, Dante apostrophizes Nella as Forese’s luckless wife (‘mal fatata / moglie,’ ll. 1–2). Dante situates her haplessness in the highly pronounced position of the A-rhyme. At first, Dante describes her misfortune to explain her illness; he stresses the cold temperatures she endures, implying the squalid poverty of the Donati household.7 Economic hardship may be Dante’s first slander of Forese. In his sonnet Dante taps into a broad cultural discourse about poverty, which was developed by numerous writers of the thirteenth century. Collectively they explored the comic possibilities of describing someone as impoverished. During the Middle Ages an ambivalent attitude existed regarding insolvency. If someone voluntarily renounced wealth then the society considered destitution to be a saintly, Christ-like state. Conversely, involuntary poverty indicated a person’s sinfulness and stupidity, suggesting its causes to be drink, dice, prostitutes, and the tavern.8 Forese undoubtedly lost his patrimony unwisely. In the second line, Dante identifies the target of his abuse as ‘Bicci nicknamed Forese’ (‘Bicci vocato Forese’). Dante probably reversed the normal order for comic effect because Forese was well known as Bicci.9 Several scholars have objected that the phrase identifies the man’s nickname to be Forese, arguing that persons other than Dante and Donati

36

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

authored the six poems.10 In response, Michele Barbi cited numerous instances from the archives where the person’s given name was placed after the allonym. As but one example taken from Barbi: ‘Lady Scotta called Caterina’ (‘domina Scotta vocata Chaterina’).11 Barbi’s findings illustrated that Dante’s phrasing, although unusual, did in fact grammatically indicate Forese as the name and Bicci as the nickname. As the sonnet progresses, Dante changes the focus to Nella’s problems with being cold. It appears that she had wintered in the north where ice transforms into crystals (ll. 3–4). In the second quatrain, he emphasizes that she is equally chilly in the hot month of August (ll. 5–6). It does her no good to sleep clothed because her coverlets are insufficient (ll. 7–8). He puns, in other words, that Forese keeps Nella poorly covered, implying that her coldness is symptomatic of sexual frustration. At this point, Dante reveals that Nella’s freezing temperature has internal causes. The image of Nella as sexually unsatisfied is partly based upon the medieval belief that women were more libidinous than men, despite being physiologically colder than men.12 By stressing her unusual coldness, he subtly introduces the Aristotelian notion of female humorology, a concept that will be important in the first tercet. Additionally, an unhappy marriage was a stock image of the times, where sexually insatiable wives made husbands despondent, and needed to turn to lovers for satisfaction.13 As Katharine Rogers writes, ‘more often than not, a wife was shown to be making her husband’s life miserable.’14 Sex, not economics, quickly comes to the forefront in this sonnet. Scholarship focuses on the sexual connotations of Nella’s coverlets, often to the exclusion of any other possible meaning. In their edition of Dante’s verse, for example, Gianfranco Contini and Domenico De Robertis argue that Dante implied that Forese had a small penis (‘cortonese’).15 But the explicit denotation of ‘cortonese’ adds a second level of meaning to the sonnet. Dante situates the adjective ‘cortonese’ in high relief; it falls in the rhyming position at the very end of the octave (l. 8). The readers should notice that Nella’s bed sheets came from the southern Tuscan city of Cortona. He now foreshadows the Counts Guidi in the final line of the poem. The Ghibelline family had a stronghold in Arezzo, and the nearby city of Cortona, which included a castle, was part of its holdings.16 The relevance of the Counts Guidi for the sonnet will be discussed momentarily. For now, suffice it to say that Nella’s Cortonese bed sheets suggests her affinity for the Ghibellines. When viewed from this perspective, Dante might imply that her nighttime coverings were not blankets at all, but a man other than Forese. In his sonnet, Dante may be subtly depicting Nella as unfaithful.

Readings of the Sonnets

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In the first tercet, Dante returns to Nella’s physiognomy, a notion only alluded to in the second quatrain. Neither Nella’s illness nor her coldness are caused by aged humours (ll. 9–10). The suggestion of her advanced years calls to mind the stock character of the wanton wife in an unhappy marriage.17 Dante subverts the stereotype, stressing instead that her cough and iciness have other causes. Rather, her unhappiness is due to the lack she feels in her nest (l. 11). The eleventh line may be another reference to the poverty of Forese’s household; or it can be read as double entendre referring to her now ignored sexual organs. Dante has complete mastery over his poetic language, and the possibility for more than one interpretation is clearly intentional. In one subtle verse, Dante ties together both the implication of poverty and the accusation that Forese overlooks his wife. In the final tercet, the poet draws together several of the threads of the sonnet. He presents a scene involving Nella’s mother. She weeps because she has more than one pain (l. 12). For mere dried figs as a dowry, she could have placed Nella in the household of the Counts Guidi (ll. 13–14). Dante alludes again to the economic hardships of the Donati, as contrasted with the proverbial wealth of the Counts Guidi. Nella’s current impoverishment means that Forese squandered his family’s wealth along with her dowry. The poet apparently reiterates the ideology that involuntary poverty implied sinfulness and stupidity. Using Nella’s mother as a mouthpiece, Dante criticizes Donati for not having taken better care of his finances. Importantly, Nella’s mother explicitly mentions the Counts Guidi (l. 14), drawing a link to the coverlet from Cortona (l. 8). Dante also situates the Ghibelline family as the last word of the sonnet, another position of great importance. By repeatedly emphasizing the Counts Guidi, Dante forces the reader to take note of their relationships to Forese, Nella, and the Donati family. Dante did not select the Counts Guidi at random, but rather drew upon biographical knowledge to pillory Forese. According to legend, the Donati family was central to the split between the Florentine Guelphs and Ghibellines.18 The association of Nella with a Ghibelline family implies her political betrayal of Forese’s house. Count Guido Novello commanded the Aretine army at the Battle of Campaldino in 1289 against the Guelph forces, led by Forese’s brother Corso.19 Furthermore, Nella may have been a member of the Frescobaldi family. In the political struggles between Corso Donati and Vieri de’ Cerchi, the Frescobaldi sided against Forese’s brother. The factional warfare became violent only after Forese’s last year of life, 1295; but the tensions between the clans preceded the struggles by years. In

38

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

his sonnet, Dante implies that politics estranged Forese from Nella. Since Forese fears a political betrayal, Nella sleeps alone and uncovered at night. Hence, Dante’s repeated references to Rustico’s poetry make perfect sense. Filippi combined sexuality and politics to shame fellow Ghibellines and their faithless wives. Dante, conversely, implies Nella’s faithlessness to condemn the Donati clan. Dante does not treat Filippi as a simple repertory of set insults. Instead, he evokes Filippi’s poetics to underscore his insinuations about Forese’s home life. Forese responded to Dante with the following lyric. In it, Forese does not imitate Dante’s rhyme scheme (ABAB ABAB CDE CDE) but follows his own (ABBA ABBA CDE ECD).20 Indeed, Forese does not repeat any of Dante’s rhymes. Thirteenth-century tenzoni did not require respondents to reuse the rhymes of the initiator; a correspondence without shared rhyme words was called a discordium. Still, the two sonnets display some commonalities. Like Dante, Forese appropriates Rustico’s poetics. Forese goes so far as to construct an off rhyme in the quatrains based on Rustico (A: ‘-osse’; B: ‘-osso’). Forese’s A-rhyme may be derived from one of Filippi’s sonnets, and he utilizes three of Rustico’s four rhyme words (‘fosse’ / ‘fosse’ / ‘tosse’). So it appears that he knew Dante’s intertextual source. Donati writes: L’altra notte mi venn’una gran tosse, perch’i’ non avea che tener a dosso; ma incontanente dì [ed i’] fui mosso21 per gir a guadagnar ove che fosse. Udite la fortuna ove m’adusse: ch’i’ credetti trovar perle in un bosso e be’ fiorin’ coniati d’oro rosso, ed i’ trovai Alaghier tra le fosse legato a nodo ch’i non saccio il nome, se fu di Salamon o d’altro saggio. Allora mi segna’ verso ’l levante: e que’ mi disse: ‘Per amor di Dante, scio’mi’; ed i’ non potti veder come: tornai a dietro, e compie’ mi’ viaggio. The other night I had a great fit of coughing, because I’d nothing to put over me; but as soon as day came I went off to look for money, wherever it might be found. Hear where luck led me! For I thought I’d find pearls in a wooden box and fine coined florins of red gold, but I found Alighieri among the graves, tied by some knot – I don’t know if the one called

Readings of the Sonnets

39

Solomon’s, or some other sage’s. Then I made the sign of the cross facing east. And he said to me: ‘For the love of Dante, release me.’ But I couldn’t see how – so turned back and came home.

Of the six extant sonnets of the tenzone, this may be the most difficult to comprehend. Forese composes it as a single narrative. Its events are cryptic, and therefore what Forese says about Dante’s father, Alighiero, is uncertain. Forese may have selected Dante’s father as a target because Alighiero was personally embarrassing to the poet. Thus, the scarce biographical information about Alighiero is essential for interpreting the sonnet. Like the other men of Dante’s family, he earned a living by lending money. At the outset, Forese recalls the previous poem of the correspondence. He reiterates the scenario from Dante’s sonnet, claiming that a severe cough woke him because he had nothing (or no one?) to cover him (ll. 1–2). In altering the discourse from the third person to the first, Forese adapts Dante’s invective, now casting himself as insolvent and sexually rejected. By taking on Dante’s slanders of sexuality and poverty, he represents himself as a traditional comic author. Throughout the Middle Ages poets portrayed themselves as impoverished as part of their comic strategies.22 Thus, the sonnet’s narrative ‘I’ may not designate the historical Forese Donati. Instead, Forese probably invents a fictive poetic persona for himself in line with the dictates of medieval comic literature. He presents himself as a potentially unreliable narrator while he slanders his opponent. In the fourth and fifth lines, Forese elaborates on his own economic conditions. As soon as he awakes, he sets out to earn money wherever he might find it (ll. 4–5). In the sixth line, he stresses that fortune smiled upon him. He believed he would find gemstones in a treasure chest (l. 6). The image of the poor man who suddenly stumbled upon riches resonated with the culture of the age. One criticism of the merchants was that their wealth came from luck, and not from their merit. Unlike nobles, who had riches conferred upon them for commendable service, the traders depended on the whims of fortune.23 Forese says virtually the same thing about himself here. He sets out to ply a trade, and blindly trusts that fortune will provide for him. Throughout this passage, Forese may depict himself as the stereotype of a medieval merchant. Fortune enriches Forese, but not in the manner he expected. He found Alighiero among the ditches (l. 8). What the poet intends here is not certain. The poet might translate the phrase ‘inter foveas,’ which denoted the cemetery of the church of San Iacopo.24 Perhaps Forese

40

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

encounters the spirit of Dante’s father being punished in the afterlife. In the following two lines, Forese declares that Alighiero is bound by a knot, possibly that known as Solomon’s (ll. 9–10). Speculation has abounded as to the meaning of Solomon’s knot,25 but Forese’s expression may not have baffled his readers. Several medieval documents contain the expression ‘Solomon’s knot,’ and therefore they elucidate the discussion. A full understanding of ‘Solomon’s knot’ is necessary because Dante too employs the term in the subsequent sonnet. Scholarship on Dante’s tenzone with Forese has examined two documents containing the phrase in Italian, but two others have not yet entered the discussion. The first instance of the Italian expression occurs in a thirteenth- or fourteenth-century ballata for which the last two stanzas read: Poi colse di que’ fiori Ch’a lei parean più begli Dicendo – Agli amadori Sogliamo andare con egli – ; E a’ suoi biondi capegli Se gli giva legando: E ivi a poco stando Mi diè la ghirlandetta. Poi con un bello inchino Da me prese comiato. Io rimasi tapino In su quel verde prato, Sentendomi legato Col nodo Salamone E per cotal cagione Fe’ questa canzonetta.26 Then she collected those flowers that seemed to her to be most beautiful, saying: ‘To the lovers we usually come with these.’ And she went tying them to her blond hair, and shortly thereafter, she gave me the garland. Then bowing down beautifully, she took her leave of me. I remained, pitiful me, in that green field, feeling myself tied with Solomon’s knot, and for that reason I wrote this canzonetta.

In the ballata, the phrase ‘Solomon’s knot’ has both a literal and a metaphorical meaning. It denotes the garland and it connotes a permanent

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emotional bond. The second citation currently known to Dante scholarship, an epistle by the notary Lapo Mazzei, communicates only the latter connotation. In a letter dated 1 February 1400, Lapo answers the praises of him in a letter from the father of his correspondent: E non pigliate che a mie lode lo scrivesse: ma solo guardai dentro al cuor vostro verso me, che mi fu grandissimo dono e allegrezza. Intanto che mi deste nodo Salamone alla carità ch’io v’avea; chè, credetemi, egli è un grande presente all’amadore, che l’amato se n’avvegga.27 And do not take it as praise for me that he wrote it: for I only looked within your heart towards me, which was a great gift and joy to me. Yet you gave me Solomon’s knot for the love that I bore you; for, believe me, it is a great present to a lover that the beloved take notice of him.

Lapo Mazzei utilizes the expression ‘Solomon’s knot’ as wholly metaphorical for the inalterable affection between himself and the other man. A third citation of the phrase appears in the dictionary Vocabolario degli Accademici della Crusca. The entry under the heading of ‘knot’ (‘nodo’) is: nodo: I. Nodi, dalla diversa maniera di fargli prendono diverse denominazioni; onde si dice Nodo di Salomone, Nodo in sul dito, Nodo del vomero, Nodo a piè d’uccellino, che è il meno artificioso, e il più agevole a sciorsi, e simili’28 knot: I. Knots take different names from the different ways to make them; hence, they are called ‘Solomon’s knot,’ ‘knot on your finger,’ ‘knot of the plowshare,’ ‘bird’s foot knot,’ which is the least complicated and the easiest to untie, and so on.

The Vocabolario degli Accademici della Crusca also cites a fourteenthcentury text, currently unknown, which reads: Si vestirono d’una cottardita, e d’una assisa, e d’uno colore, tutti quanti portando in petto un nodo di Salomone. They dressed in a skirt and in a uniform, all of one colour, and all wearing on their chests Solomon’s knot.

The Vocabolario degli Accademici della Crusca confirms that ‘Solomon’s’ was the name of a specific type of knot, possibly an indissoluble one. It

42

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

was not merely a proverbial expression. Second, ‘Solomon’s knot’ also conveyed a coded social meaning. The last citation illustrates that the knot was utilized at times as a personal ornamentation in a courtly context. The previous passages indicate that the knot was metaphoric for an unchanging emotional commitment. The verbal expression ‘Solomon’s knot,’ indicating one’s permanent devotion, was apparently derived from the actual use of the knot. To judge from all the passages, to wear ‘Solomon’s knot’ indicated a person’s fealty, or perhaps subjugation, to another individual or institution. Its indissolubility symbolized the devotion as irrevocable. In short, ‘Solomon’s knot’ stood for someone’s perpetual subordination to another.29 With the social implications of ‘Solomon’s knot’ in mind, Forese asserts that he saw Alighiero’s ghost in an abject position. Since he treats Alighiero’s bondage as a gift from fortune (l. 6), he intimates Alighiero’s servitude to himself. Forese crosses himself while facing east, possibly as a means to ward off evil or perhaps in an act of thanksgiving (l. 11). Alighiero then begs to be released (ll. 12–13). This act only reinforces the idea of Alighiero’s subservience to Forese. He closes the sonnet by saying that he was not able to release Dante’s father, so he turned back, satisfied, and completed his journey (ll. 13–14). The exact meaning of Forese’s slander may never be fully understood. But Forese’s poetic persona may provide the key to the sonnet’s interpretation. Forese presents himself as a stereotypical merchant who ends up mastering the ghost of the nobleman Alighiero. When viewed from the perspective of medieval class biases, Forese seems to satirize the pretensions of Dante’s family. The following two sonnets appear in their own distinct branch of manuscript tradition. Thus, the next sonnet may be Dante’s response to the previous poem, or it may start a different phase of the exchange altogether. Internal evidence complicates its position as the correspondence’s third poem. Dante does not imitate the rhyme scheme of the previous lyric, but reuses that of the first sonnet (ABAB ABAB CDE CDE). He also selects entirely new rhymes for the poem, although like Forese above he employs consonance in the quatrains (A: ‘-one’; B: ‘-arne’); furthermore, he links the octave to the sextet through assonance (B: ‘-arne’; C: ‘-arte’; D: ‘-are’). The sonnet chastises Forese for gluttony, an admonishment totally absent from the previous two poems. Michele Barbi, in accepting Federigo Ubaldini’s ordering, explained its location in the overall exchange with the fact that it too employs the expression ‘Solomon’s knot.’30 Dante’s lyric reads:

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Ben ti faranno il nodo Salamone Bicci novello, e petti delle starne, ma peggio fia la lonza del castrone, ché ’l cuoio farà vendetta della carne; tal che starai più presso a San Simone, se.ttu non ti procacci de l’andarne: e ’ntendi che ’l fuggire el mal boccone sarabbe oramai tardi a ricomprarne. Ma ben m’è detto che tu sai un’arte, che, s’egli è vero, tu ti puoi rifare, però ch’ell’è di molto gran guadagno; e fa.ssì, a tempo, che tema di carte non hai, che.tti bisogni scioperare; ma ben ne colse male a’ fi’ di Stagno. Partridge breasts, young Bicci [literally: Bicci, junior], will truss you in Solomon’s knot all right! But loins of mutton will be still worse for you, for the skin will take revenge for the flesh! So much so that you’ll live nearer San Simone, if you don’t hurry and get away. And by now, mind, it’s too late to redeem your debts by giving up guzzling. But to be sure, I’ve been told you have a profession with which (if this be true) you can set yourself up again; for it’s highly profitable; and it provides, for a time, that you won’t fear the bills that might put you out of action [or: and do it soon, you who have no fear of paper, you need to remain unemployed]: but certainly, no good came of it to Stagno’s sons!

In the explication of Purgatorio XXIII, the ‘anonimo fiorentino’ cited this sonnet as Dante’s earlier castigation of Forese’s gluttony. Indeed, overeating figures prominently in the lyric. Forese’s love of delicacies – partridge breasts, to be precise – will cause him to acquire Solomon’s knot (ll. 1–2). Given the probable meaning of the expression ‘Solomon’s knot,’ he implies that overindulgence will subjugate Forese. At first Dante seems to say that gluttony itself will enslave Forese. Later in the sonnet (l. 4), the reference to the jail indicates another reading of the first two verses: that Donati will go to the debtors’ prison. Thus, Dante’s sonnet helps to illustrate how the phrase ‘Solomon’s knot’ indicated subservience. In his verse, Dante employs Solomon’s knot as indicative of Forese’s incarceration. The connection between gluttony and impoverishment is not unique to this particular poem. Andrew Cowell dedicates a book-length study

44

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

to the medieval literary trope of the tavern. Cowell believes that the inn may constitute ‘one of the strongest bases for isolating a comic-realistic tradition throughout medieval literature.’31 Although Dante does not overtly speak of the tavern in this sonnet, it may be the subtext of the poem. The symbol of the tavern may also figure in one of the other sonnets not yet discussed. Cowell studies the semiotic connotations of the tavern – not actual historical establishments – and determines that it represents a type of symbolic antichurch. It is a locus of indulgence, containing all that is transgressive, counterpoised to the Church, which symbolizes virtue, wisdom, and self-control.32 Cowell describes the tavern as a fictional utopia of plenty, and therefore the cultural icon for gluttony,33 a sin consisting of overeating and drunkenness.34 Gluttony with all that it suggests – the pub, insobriety – possesses strong literary resonances as one of the hallmarks of medieval comic literature. For example, many thirteenth-century writers proposed the etymological derivation for the word ‘goliard’ from gula (throat).35 Goliardic poets frequently struck the pose that they considered their bellies as gods.36 Yet during the Middle Ages gluttony implied more than self-indulgence. Martha Bayless elaborates on the cultural symbols associated with the tavern. She writes that, for medieval literary authors, drunkenness involves an appealing array of practices and conventions. The sinner can be described with a host of iconographical objects: cups, wine, dice, taverns, tavern keepers and fellow drunkards. The vice is, moreover, rich with potential forms of comic degradation: beguilement by tricksters and women of dubious reputation, vomiting, urinating in public, falling into dung-hills. Since dicing often accompanied tavern-going, the hapless drinker was also in danger of gambling away his clothes and having to return home naked.37

Bayless indicates that gluttony and insobriety were part of an expansive network of cultural referents. Overindulgence at the tavern led inexorably to destitution, symbolized by the loss of clothes.38 In the opening verses of the sonnet, Dante capitalizes on the range of suggestions associated with gluttony by pairing it with one of its frequent consequences, penury. Dante employs ambiguous language in this sonnet to slip from one accusation to another. Dante writes the poem entirely in the second person, creating an offensive tone. In the process, he denies himself the possibility of creating

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a poetic persona. In the second verse, Dante addresses Donati only by his nickname Bicci, omitting entirely his Christian name. Forese’s nickname serves to reduce his importance in the eyes of the reader. Writing about comic literature, for instance, the theorist Uguccione da Pisa stated that tragedies should speak of kings and magnates, while comedies must deal with private individuals.39 By using Forese’s nickname exclusively, Dante makes him appear inconsequential, merely a private person. In addition, the poet adds a new element to Forese’s sobriquet with the adjective ‘novello’ (l. 2). The translators render ‘novello’ as ‘young’ – and it may well have connoted youth – but it literally meant ‘junior.’40 Dante may refer to Forese as ‘Bicci junior’ for several reasons. Forese’s grandfather was also named Forese, and he resided in the house when the younger Forese was born.41 But another member of the Donati, Andrea, was also nicknamed Biccicocco.42 Perhaps, then, Dante ridicules Forese for having the same nickname as another member of the family. Dante’s composition of the third and fourth lines is intentionally vague. Mutton loins will have worse effects on Forese than the partridge breasts because the lamb’s leather will avenge the flesh (ll. 3–4). By positioning the mutton loins (‘lonza’) as the subject of a second clause, Dante creates an apparent parallel with the partridge breasts of the first distich. Two foods, he seems to say in the first quatrain, will take retribution on Forese for his gluttony. Foreshadowing the technique of contrappasso, partridge breasts will indeed master Forese, and lamb chops will take vengeance on him for having eaten their meat (‘carne,’ l. 4). By including the reference to leather in the fourth verse (‘cuoio’), Dante also connotes flogging as punishment for Forese’s gluttony and subsequent debts. The overtones of flagellation may indicate Forese’s punishment not only for the delicacies consumed, but also for his general sins of the flesh (‘carne,’ l. 4). It is important to see the multiple connotations of these two verses, because Dante introduces them on purpose. Dante makes his readers await later verses before clarifying his exact meaning. Piero Boitani sums up the sonnet as ‘a good example of fierce realism and at the same time of trobar clus – in short, of perfect “poesia giocosa.”’43 Dante employs an allusive style that requires much patience to explicate. In the second quatrain, he claims that Forese will reside quite close to the neighbourhood of San Simone if he does not decide to flee (ll. 5–6). One of the debtors’ jails in Florence after 1289 was le burella, located across the street from the church of San Simone.44

46

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

Thanks to these two lines, many of the previous statements come into focus. By alluding to the prison, Dante indicates to the readers that Solomon’s knot is the penalty for debts. Moreover, the suggestion that Forese may be flogged for his gluttony should be taken literally, perhaps in conjunction with his imprisonment in le burella. The retroactive illumination of the earlier utterances does not mean that the poem communicates a univocal signification. Dante wrote the first quatrain suggestively to convey multiple implications. In the subsequent two lines, the structural centre of the poem, Dante gets to the crux of his argument. Even if Forese were to immediately mend his ways, it might still be too late to avoid judgment (ll. 7–8). Dante structures his language to place in high relief two key terms. With his last A-rhyme, he indicates the impending punishment with the expression ‘evil mouthful’ (‘mal boccone,’ l. 7). With his last B-rhyme he suggests repayment with the verb ‘buy back’ (‘ricomprarne,’ l. 8). The former belongs to the semantic field of gluttony, while the latter falls into that of commerce. Dante situates both lexemes in rhyming position at the end of the octet. Together they illustrate the nexus of gluttony and economics at the heart of the sonnet. Dante transitions to the first tercet by establishing a parallel with the incipit verse. His initial interjection (‘Ma ben,’ l. 9) recalls the first word of the entire poem (‘Ben,’ l. 1 ). He has heard that Forese knows an art, which, if true, can help him re-establish himself because it yields great earnings (ll. 9–11). The art to which Dante alludes is not fully comprehensible. It may simply mean an unspecified type of labour. Yet in the Florentine culture of the thirteenth century, the lexical item ‘arte’ possessed a specific legal signification of the trades or guilds. With that word, Dante may bring up Forese’s legal and economic situation. For a decade after the guilds became dominant in 1282, the magnates suffered numerous restrictions; the limitations placed on the magnates were lifted only in the mid-1290s.45 In the verses that follow, Dante exclaims that Forese should act quickly because, for now, he is required not to work (ll. 12–13).46 Dante uses the term ‘scioperare,’ which indicated the nobility that lived off the rents of tenants. Forese, in contrast, seems destined for poverty. Dante taunts Forese about his current disempowerment precisely because he is a member of the high nobility. Forese has the social position, but not the licence, to avoid his current economic hardships. The reference to the guilds in the previous lines may also foreshadow Dante’s closing verse; exactly what Dante means is unknown. Forese

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may be able to re-establish himself financially, but the sons of Stagno received ill rewards for similar actions (l. 14). No extant documentation identifies the sons of Stagno.47 They may have been members of a notorious family of thieves.48 If that supposition is correct, then the reference to Forese’s craft (l. 9) should be interpreted as ironic; Forese may be apprenticing in the guild of thieves. Or, it may be, however, that Dante refers to the inhabitants of the Apennine township of Stagno north of Pistoia. Although a longstanding possession of the Counts Alberti,49 during the thirteenth century Pistoia sought control over the town.50 Since its castle overlooked one of the main passes of the Bisenzio valley,51 Bologna too struggled to dominate it, going to war with Pistoia over it in 1211.52 The branch of the Counts Alberti in charge of the township was known as the lords of Stagno (‘Stagnesi’), and several members were nicknamed Stagnesio or Stagnesino.53 During the course of the thirteenth century, both Pistoia and Bologna wrested control of Stagno from the Counts Alberti by accusing them of harbouring thieves and of terrorizing travellers on the mountain pass.54 If Dante alludes to the Stagnesi, he may be suggesting that the Donati will also lose their inheritance rights through malfeasance. In his lyric, Dante repeatedly vilifies Forese with insinuation and innuendo. He draws upon the multiple possibilities of the basic slurs of poverty and gluttony. Donati does not reply in kind, however, but directly rebuts Alighieri. The poem below marks the first case of a participant imitating the formal qualities of his opponent. Forese employs only the second person, effectively turning Dante’s charges against him and reworking them into his own accusations. Forese also formulates his sextet around Dante’s rhyme scheme (CDE CDE), although the octet (ABBA ABBA) differs from the previous poem (ABAB ABAB). He proclaims: Va’ rivesti San Gal prima che dichi parole o motti d’altrui povertate, ché troppo n’è venuta gran pietate in questo verno a tutti suoi amichi. E anco, se tu ci hai per sì mendichi, perché pur mandi a.nnoi per caritate? Dal castello Altrafonte ha’ ta’ grembiate, ch’io saccio ben che tu te ne nutrichi. Ma ben ti lecerà il lavorare, se Dio ti salvi la Tana e ’l Francesco,

48

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati che col Belluzzo tu non stia in brigata. Allo spedale a Pinti ha’ riparare; e già mi par vedere stare a desco, ed in terzo, Alighier co.lla farsata.55 Go and pay back San Gallo before you talk or joke about other people’s poverty; for all its [or: his] friends, this winter, have been greatly troubled about it. What’s more, if you think us such beggars, why go on asking for charity? You have filled your lap so full at the castle of Altrafonte that I’ve no doubt you live on what you get there. But God keep Tana and Francesco for you, that you may find it possible to escape Belluzzo’s company! You’ll end up in the Pinti poorhouse. And already I seem to see you56 sitting at table, one of three, an Alighieri with nothing on but a doublet.

Forese opens the sonnet with two imperative verbs establishing a vituperative tone. Forese orders Dante to go and return the goods to Saint Gallo before maligning others for their poverty (ll. 1–2). Forese accuses Dante of having accepted economic assistance while making charges of indigence. Forese does more than highlight Dante’s hypocrisy; to connote restitution to the saint, he selects the verb ‘re-dress’ (‘rivesti,’ l. 1). In other words, Dante had literally lost his clothes and robbed the saint of his vestments. By implying Dante’s former nudity, the poet calls to mind the cultural network regarding destitution. In most instances, the needy lost their shirts while gambling although, to be sure, Donati does not mention the tavern here. Nevertheless, Forese exploits the suggestions of gluttony to paint a negative portrait of his opponent. In one key word, the poet recollects the cultural beliefs about involuntary poverty and insinuates that Dante had foolishly squandered his own finances. The poet underscores the derisive portrayal of Dante by contrasting him with the saint. Dante must compensate Gallo because all the saint’s friends feel pity for him during this long, cold winter (ll. 1–4). Thanks to Dante’s mean-spirited actions the saint must wander from household to household begging for assistance. Throughout this entire discussion, however, it must be kept in mind that Saint Gallo is a metaphor. Forese personifies the eponymous Florentine poorhouse – indeed, the very same hostel sponsored by the Donati and mentioned in the 1315 will of Dante’s mother-in-law Maria Donati. Thus, the first quatrain gives the appearance of speaking about Saint Gallo, but it only treats Dante’s ingratitude. Dante benefited from the Donatis’ charitable

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contributions, only to malign Forese for his own financial difficulties. Throughout the opening quatrain, Forese counteracts the stance of moral superiority taken by Dante in his invectives. Having received support from the hospital of San Gallo, Dante is in no position to criticize anyone for their hardships. In the following verses, Forese abandons all personification and instead expresses himself with discursive language. He poses the straightforward question: if Dante believes that the Donati are deprived, why does he seek assistance from them (ll. 5–6)? Forese carefully creates a particular tone in the sonnet. He first reiterates Dante’s accusation by calling the Donati mendicants (‘mendichi,’ l. 5). He then refers to their aid as charity (‘caritate,’ l. 6). Both terms possess strong spiritual connotations. The words highlight the religious nuances in the depiction of Saint Gallo, consequently calling to mind other comic discussions of poverty in thirteenth- and fourteenth-century poetry.57 Medieval authors employed religious language to speak of the tavern, and all that it implies, as if it were a mock church with particular rites, and they similarly appropriated such terminology in the discussion of insolvency.58 Forese, conversely, exploits the positive image of Saint Gallo. Now, he and his relatives have an air of saintliness, in contrast to the hypocrite, Dante. Again, Forese borrows a commonplace of comic literature by conflating ecclesiastical lexicon with the description of Dante. Forese then elaborates on the first stanza. Dante receives so many donations from castle Altrafonte that his subsistence is assured (ll. 7–8). Since the late twelfth century, the castle, which overlooked the Arno and contained a mill, had been the possession of the Altafronte family,59 and they received payments from those crossing the banks of the river.60 After the defeat of the Florentine Ghibellines, the Altafronti suffered exile and the castle was partially destroyed.61 Owing to the damage inflicted on it, in 1304 Francesco dei Bardi purchased the castle for the small sum of three hundred lire.62 Michele Barbi explains the difference between Forese’s spelling of the castle name, ‘Altrafonte,’ and that of the family, ‘Altafronte,’ as a variation in spoken Florentine.63 But it would be mistaken to assume that the poet is unconscious of its literary potential. Central to the sonnet’s signification is Dante’s duplicity: he has another source – literally, altra fonte – of income. In subsequent verses, Forese will repeat the claim that Dante turns to several individuals, not just the Donati, for financial support. In the structural centre of the sonnet, the seventh and eighth verses, Forese again carefully selects his rhyme words. He speaks of the aid

50

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

proffered from castle Altrafonte as literally the amount that can be held in an apron (‘grembiate,’ l. 7).64 In a single word, the poet underscores several impressions made previously in the sonnet. By mentioning clothing, he returns to the concept that Dante’s economics had been stripped bare. The particular item, an apron, covers the wearer’s abdomen, thus implying Dante’s belly. Forese adds that such an amount will sustain Dante, asserting that he will be nourished by it (‘te ne nutrichi,’ l. 8). He interjects a note of kitchen humour, a traditional element of medieval comedies, which Ernst Robert Curtius defines as any literature having to do with alimentation.65 Hence, the suggestions of traditional comic humour provided by the incipit verse were not coincidental, for the poet returns to them at the end of the second quatrain. With two words, Forese presents Dante as the stock figure of a naked, starving transient. In the sextet, Forese vilifies other persons in addition to Dante. Dante must now find employment if he is to avoid keeping company with Belluzzo Bellincione, one of Alighiero Bellincione’s brothers (ll. 9, 11).66 Not enough is known about Dante’s uncle Belluzzo to explain Forese’s statement about him. But he emphasizes the Alighieris’ misery by imploring God to watch over Francesco and Tana, Dante’s half-brother and half-sister, or possibly, blood sister (l. 10).67 In contrast to the previous sonnet, where Dante alludes to the Donati as rentiers (‘scioperare,’ l. 13), Forese stresses that Dante should work (‘lavorare,’ l. 9). As Philip Jones observes, in medieval Florence, the traditional aristocratic disdain for labour and laboratores persisted along with the belief that such endeavours degraded a nobleman.68 The enumeration of Dante’s relatives implicates the entire Alighieri clan in his villainy. Forese then contrasts the hardships of Dante’s family with the largesse of the Donati by naming the institution founded by his ancestor Fiorenzo. He claims that Dante must take refuge in yet another hospital, the one located in Borgo Pinti (l. 12). Various documents illustrate that the phrase ‘to go to the hospital’ meant finding shelter due to indigence.69 Perhaps Dante will find his uncle Belluzzo there. By citing a second hostel, he repeats the implication given by the name of castle Altrafonte. Dante has another source of income in Borgo Pinti. As a consequence, Forese constructs this sonnet on a series of parallels, all of which indicate Dante’s beneficiaries: the Donati, the Altafronti, San Gallo, and the hospital in Borgo Pinti. Taken together, these referents indicate Dante’s voraciousness in receiving contributions. In the last couplet Forese envisions the scene in the hospital. He can see Dante sitting at a rough table, and, with an unnamed third person,

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Alighieri in his doublet (ll. 13–14). By mentioning Alighieri in the final line, Forese is deliberately vague; he may refer to Dante, as the translators suggest, or to another member of the family, perhaps Dante’s father. Nevertheless, the closing line draws together several of the motifs of the sonnet. The doublet (‘farsata,’ l. 14) was a kind of undershirt.70 By presenting this Alighieri as partly undressed, Forese joins the final line to the incipit, constructing the entire poem as a consistent whole. The doublet reinforces the impression of Dante’s nudity in the opening verse. Similarly, the partially clothed Alighieri at a table evokes the semiotics of the tavern, thus corroborating the hints of traditional comic literature in the poem. It visually depicts the accusations of penury, folly, and immorality found throughout the entire sonnet. The problem of the tenzone’s ordering recurs with the third moment of the correspondence. Several manuscripts position the next two poems directly after the first two sonnets, suggesting their affiliation with them. At the same time, other manuscripts treat them independently of the others. The next couple of sonnets have the largest manuscript representation of the tenzone between Dante and Forese; they appear in eight of the eleven source codices, or two branches of the manuscript tradition ( and ß). Those manuscripts were compiled throughout the Tre- and Quattrocento. In addition, the two poems also appear in the 1757 edition of Burchiello’s verse, displaying traits unattested elsewhere. The unusual characteristics of Burchiello’s edition indicate further transcription of the two sonnets beyond the current extant sources.71 This evidence suggests a greater degree of popularity for them during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries than for the other four sonnets. Dante writes: Bicci novel, figliuol di non so cui (s’i’ non ne domandassi monna Tessa), giù per la gola tanta rob’ hai messa, ch’a forza ti convien torre l’altrui. E già la gente si guarda da.llui, chi ha borsa a.llato, là dov’e’ s’appressa, dicendo: ‘Questi c’ha la faccia fessa è piuvico ladron negli atti sui.’ E tal giace per lui nel letto tristo, per tema non sia preso a lo ’mbolare, che gli apartien quanto Giusep a Cristo. Di Bicci e de’ fratei posso contare

52

Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati che, per lo sangue lor, del mal acquisto sann’ a lor donne buon’ cognati stare. Young Bicci [literally: Bicci junior], son of I don’t know who (short of asking my lady Tessa), you’ve stuffed so much down your gorge that you’re driven to take from others. And already people who carry purses keep clear of him when he draws near, saying: ‘Scarface there is obviously a known thief.’ And there’s one who lies in bed distraught for fear that he’ll be caught red-handed, who has as much to do with him as Joseph with Christ. Of Bicci and his brothers I can say that, being of their clan [literally: due to their blood] they know how to use their ill-gotten gains to be good kinsmen to their wives.

In this poem, Dante demonstrates the stylistic experimentation that characterizes the entire exchange.72 Formally speaking, Dante does not rework the rhyme scheme of his previous two sonnets (ABAB ABAB CDE CDE) but devises an entirely new one (ABBA ABBA CDC DCD). Suggesting a link with Forese’s first sonnet, which directly precedes it in the manuscripts, Dante’s B-rhyme (‘-essa’) forms a consonance with Donati’s B-rhyme (‘-osse’). With the first two words of the poem, he apostrophizes the target of his wrath as Bicci junior (l. 1). Dante crafts the incipit verse as a paradox; presumably, the parentage of someone called junior is perfectly clear. Dante writes that he does not know the identity of the senior Forese (or Bicci), specifying in an aside that he will need to ask Lady Tessa (ll. 1–2). A medieval narrative corroborates that Forese’s mother was named Contessa (Tessa). By bringing up Lady Tessa in a discussion of her son’s illegitimacy, the poet again alludes to the misdeeds of the Donati women. In short, Dante reiterates the slanderous suggestions about Nella’s infidelities in the first sonnet of the tenzone, but now applies them to Forese’s mother. In the initial two lines of the sonnet, Dante repeats the stance taken in the first poem of the tenzone; he strikes the pose, perfected by Rustico Filippi, of the vituperator of female misbehaviour. The entire first quatrain consists of a single sentence. After addressing Forese, Dante momentarily sets aside the question of his illegitimacy. Speaking directly to his respondent, he repeats the slur about his gluttony (l. 3). Yet he immediately turns to another affront. Forese’s overeating is the rationale for robbery – he must fund his excessive

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consumption (ll. 3–4). By linking Forese’s eating habits with thievery, Dante again repeats the cultural beliefs that situated overindulgence at the centre of a constellation of vices. The first strophe continually shifts from one allegation to another. Just as gluttony implies a host of related vices, such as gambling, drunkenness, loose morals, and depravity, so Dante works into four short verses several related allegations against Forese. In the second strophe, the poet communicates a short narrative about Forese. Consequently, Dante ceases writing in the second person in favour of the third; he will not return to the second person for the duration of the sonnet. He presents Forese walking down the street, and fearful passers-by clutch their purses as he approaches (ll. 5–6). The wary citizens take note of Forese’s face and recognize him as a publicly denounced thief (ll. 7–8). Several scholars wonder if Forese’s scarred visage (‘faccia fessa,’ l. 7) implies that he had been branded as a legal punishment.73 In Purgatorio XXIII and XXIV, the author places a similar emphasis on the features of Forese’s face, suggesting that Forese suffered some type of disfigurement.74 By setting the narrative on the streets of Florence, Dante reveals his intention to dishonour his opponent openly. The poet translates from Latin the verdict of ‘publicly recognized thief’ (‘latronem publicum’) in the eighth verse (‘piuvico ladron’).75 Dante echoes, possibly more than once, the legal punishments of robbery in the stanza, and his narrative sets in motion its potential social ramifications. The first tercet conveys a second narrative, abruptly switching scenes from Forese on the streets of Florence. Instead, Dante writes that a man – he does not yet specify who – lies in bed, sad (l. 9). The lack of specificity about the elderly man in bed seemingly reinforces the insult about Forese’s paternity. The author then clarifies that fear causes the man’s sadness; he is preoccupied that Forese will be caught in flagrante delicto (l. 10). But the final line of the tercet constitutes the linchpin of the sonnet. At this point, the two slanders, that Forese is a bastard and a thief, come together. He pronounces that the old man belongs to Forese like Saint Joseph belongs to Christ (l. 11). Dante now indicates that the bedridden man is Forese’s father, Simone. The poet juxtaposes the question of Simone’s fatherhood to the fear that Forese’s crimes will be discovered. Dante summarizes in a single verse the dual perspective of Forese’s illegitimacy and his ill-gotten goods. The connection between larceny and the question of Forese’s paternity remains to be explored; but the image of an elderly Donati abed, anxious that another person’s

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

misdeeds will be found out, possessed particular importance for medieval Florentine readers. In the final tercet of the sonnet, Dante turns his attention to Forese’s brothers. They, and indeed the entire Donati clan, have been tainted by their stolen goods (ll. 12–13). The insinuation that Forese is not the only robber of the Donati family is not limited to this particular sonnet. Most fourteenth-century commentators on the Commedia identify the thief Cianfa as a member of the Donati;76 opinion is divided, however, as to whether the man Buoso, punished alongside Cianfa, is also a Donati.77 During the last decades of the thirteenth century, the Florentine citizenry had nicknamed the Donati family ‘Malefami,’ acknowledging their criminality. Dante employs a crucial term to talk about the crimes of the Donati. He alludes to the ideology of aristocracy with the word ‘blood’ (‘sangue,’ l. 13). The concept of blood is central to medieval nobility because, at some point in the past, superiors bestowed wealth and possessions on the members of the nobility; the riches were then inherited following the bloodlines of the family. Knowing one’s family tree was essential on a fundamental level because patrimony – in the fullest sense of the word – constituted the most basic meaning of nobility. During the thirteenth century, however, not all of Forese’s inheritance had been granted from a lord. His father, Simone, had also inappropriately acquired the possessions of an uncle, Buoso. As recalled in Inferno XXX, Simone induced Gianni Schicchi to climb under the covers and dictate a false testament after Buoso had died. Fearful that the notary would become aware of the fraud, Simone watched helplessly as Gianni bequeathed certain items to himself. The narrative about Simone and Gianni Schicchi functions as the probable subtext to this sonnet. Just as Simone stood aside, fearful that Gianni would reveal the fraud, he now lies worried in bed, fearful that the larceny will be proven. The reference to blood links the questions of paternity and of patrimony. Dante knows that Forese will falsely succeed to the goods of an uncle, and that by rights, Buoso’s possessions should pass instead to his own offspring. Forese’s impending fraudulent inheritance violates the very basis of nobility. Since Forese’s inheritance is questionable, should that not mean that his bloodline is uncertain? The sonnet, therefore, only has the appearance of vilifying Forese in two different manners, his illegitimacy and larceny. But, when considered in light of the narrative about Simone and Gianni Schicchi, the poem’s two disparate insults become unified.

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Dante closes the sonnet by asserting that, because of their illegal earnings, the Donati know how to be brothers-in-law to their own wives (ll. 13–14). The final statement is mysterious. It may be that, like Rustico before him, Dante hints at sexual misconduct. As with Acerbo and Cambio, perhaps the Donati brothers have sex with their sistersin-law. Or maybe Dante means that they are brothers-in-law because they ignore their own frustrated wives. Given the phrasing of the last two verses, however, it seems likely that he elaborates on the implications of the false inheritance of the Donati. The family has decayed because it has received stolen goods (l. 13). The Donati may be bad husbands to their spouses because none of them is a rightful heir and therefore none of their marriages is legitimate. With their plunder, therefore, they can only be in-laws and not true husbands to their wives. Dante may use the closing verses, in short, to intensify the repercussions of the misdeeds of Simone Donati and Gianni Schicchi. Dante uses the Donatis’ crimes to challenge their claims to nobility. Dante’s allegations do not go unanswered. Forese, too, complains of the unbecoming actions of certain aristocratic individuals. Thus, in the last moment of the tenzone both writers shed light on the deteriorating ethos of the nobility during the late thirteenth century by addressing the failures of each other’s family. Forese clearly considers his sonnet to be a retort, for he emulates the rhyme scheme of Dante’s previous sonnet (ABBA ABBA CDE CDE); of the six extant poems of the tenzone, this marks the only time when a poet fully duplicates the formal qualities of his respondent. Furthermore, Forese twice uses assonance to recall Dante’s poem, first in the B-rhyme (Dante: ‘-essa’; Forese: ‘-etta’) and again in the C-rhyme (Dante: ‘-isto’; Forese: ‘-ico’). In his last contribution to the correspondence, Forese writes: Ben so che fosti figliuol d’Allaghieri, e accorgomene pur a la vendetta che facesti di lu’ sì bella e netta de l’aguglin che e’ cambiò l’altr’ieri. Se tagliato n’avess’uno a quartieri, di pace non dove’ aver tal fretta; ma tu ha’ poi sì piena la bonetta, che no.lla porterebber duo somieri. Buon uso ci ha’ recato, ben ti .l dico, che qual ti carica ben di bastone, colu’ ha’ per fratello e per amico.

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati Il nome ti direi delle persone che v’hanno posto sù; ma del panico mi reca, ch’i’ vo’ metter la ragione. I know you’re Alighieri’s son all right – I can tell that by the fine clean vengeance you took on his behalf for the money he exchanged the other day. Even if you’d hacked someone in pieces, you needn’t have been in such a hurry to make peace; but then you had your sack so full that two pack-horses [literally: beasts of burden] couldn’t carry it. O a fine custom you’ve introduced here, let me tell you: that if someone lays about you with a stick, he’s your friend and brother! I could name those who have counted on your cowardice – but bring me some millet, let’s settle our account!

Like Dante in the previous poem, Forese composes his verse in the second person; unlike Dante, however, he never moves to the first or third person in this sonnet. Also, as in Dante’s second poem, he opens the lyric with the term ‘Ben’ (l. 1), giving the sonnet a tone of verbal discourse as if actually conversing with Dante. Forese appropriates more elements from Dante’s verse by recollecting the fundamental defamation of the prior lyric. Subverting Dante’s discussion of Forese’s illegitimacy, he now exclaims that he recognizes Dante precisely as the son of Alighieri (l. 1). Forese’s statement is a backhanded compliment, because he accepts Dante’s parentage thanks to the vengeance he took for him (ll. 2–3). Donati sarcastically informs the reader that, in fact, Dante did not retaliate for the injury to his relatives. He treats Dante’s inability to strike back as a family characteristic. The recollection of the non-retribution constitutes a link to Dante’s sonnet. The right of vendetta comprised a component attribute of the ethos of the medieval nobility.78 Just as Dante had enumerated the flaws of the Donati to question their true membership in the aristocracy, Forese names the failings of the Alighieri to do likewise. By mentioning the failed vendetta, Forese calls to mind Geri del Bello, whose murder had not been avenged. Geri, whose name was probably the diminutive of Alighieri,79 was Dante’s second cousin and not his father. Since Forese grew up in the house next to Geri’s,80 he certainly knew the proper relationship between him and Dante. He did not, in other words, accidentally call Dante’s father Geri. Perhaps he intends the word ‘son’ (‘figliuol’) in the incipit line to mean offspring or descendent, referring to Dante’s ancestry in general. Forese may,

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however, use Geri’s murder only as a subtext and intend a reference to another unavenged injury. He specifies a different type of harm at the end of the first quatrain. Dante should take revenge for the coins (‘aguglin’) that Alighieri had exchanged the other day (l. 4). Forese does not really identify the aggrieved individual because many men of the Alighieri family were moneylenders. Perhaps he speaks metaphorically, not intending money changing but another form of retribution altogether. He had, after all, slandered Alighiero in an earlier sonnet of the correspondence. Maybe the failed vendetta is a challenge to Dante’s poetic capabilities; perhaps his respondent should better defend himself against Forese’s accusations. Whatever the interpretation, Forese’s sonnet can be best described as ad stipitem rather than ad hominem. He does not single out Dante alone, but the entire Alighieri house. Although bearing a noble crest, Dante’s father and uncles had profited from trade, and, in particular, from usury (l. 4). They had acted in a manner beneath themselves as noblemen. In the second stanza, Forese contrasts the Alighieri to authentic aristocrats. Had Dante hacked an enemy to pieces, he should not have then sued for peace (ll. 5–6). It is not clear how the next lines follow from the previous statement. Forese says that Dante has so filled his saddlebag that not even two beasts of burden could carry it (ll. 7–8). Perhaps Forese treats the peace Dante had sought as a quantity large enough to fill a bag. Or perhaps the statement about Dante’s saddlebag simply presents him as a stereotypical merchant. Dante focused on earnings instead of defending the honour of his family. The thrust of the sonnet is to depict Dante as anything but a model nobleman. Forese emphasizes the structural centre of the sonnet. The rhymes accentuate two lexemes crucial to his derision, saddlebag (‘bonetta,’ l. 7) and beasts of burden (‘somieri,’ l. 8). The latter is not the mighty steed of the aristocracy, but a workhorse associated with the lowborn. The lowly ass can be seen as a referent symbolic of the third estate in the culture of the Middle Ages. In the literature of Italy, asses figure prominently in satires of the non-nobility such as those penned by Cecco Angiolieri, Bindo Bonichi, and Lapo Gianni.81 No less than five versions of the mock donkey’s testament have been recorded,82 and the Bolognese author Matazone da Caligano relates that the peasantry originated in the animal’s flatulence.83 Forese’s beast of burden is not a donkey per se, but a general draft animal that serves almost the same rhetorical function. When juxtaposed with the beast of burden, the saddlebag draws the picture of Dante as a non-aristocratic trader. The Alighieri are

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

not the nobles they claim to be but a lowborn family, and they behave accordingly. Forese implicitly asks why Dante has criticized the Donati; the Alighieri do not act as aristocrats should. In the sextet, Forese reiterates Dante’s fearfulness. Dante treats as a friend and brother anyone who bludgeons him (ll. 10–11). Forese actually blames Dante for introducing the custom of embracing enemies (l. 9). He thus expands further the sonnet’s scope, now hitting not only the Alighieri family, but the culture of the age. The Florentine commune engaged in a program to rein in the noble families and prevent them from exacting revenge on one another; although particular laws failed, the government struggled for decades to control the feuding aristocrats.84 Forese alludes to the changing times, decrying the loss of nobility as the merchants and their city government gain power. When Forese pillories the person of Dante, he also strikes at all of thirteenthcentury Florence. He treats Dante as the embodiment of a cultural, historical, and possibly political change that offends him. In the final strophe, Forese expounds on why Dante personally bears the blame for a cultural change. Other individuals count on Dante’s pacifism, exploiting it for their own benefit (l. 13). By not behaving honourably, as a true aristocrat, Dante induced other people’s misbehaviours. Forese could name the villains but rather he wants to settle the account (ll. 13–14). Forese’s expression ‘to settle accounts’ (‘mettere ragione,’ l. 14) was commercial jargon.85 A citation from Giordano da Rivalto demonstrates that traders of the age frequently counted on beans or small stones to calculate their sums.86 Forese, therefore, utilizes the mercantile expression to disparage the Alighieris’ nobility. To settle their accounts, Forese requests millet, a grain famous for its small size.87 He requires the miniscule seed because of the large number of Dante’s enemies who rely on his fearfulness. To use a larger item, such as a stone or bean, might simply take up too much space. Throughout the entire sonnet, Forese has denigrated Dante’s cowardice to undercut his family’s claim to nobility. In the previous sonnet, Dante derided the Donati for Simone’s fraudulent acquisition of Buoso’s possessions. He wondered if a false patrimony and Simone’s sinful constitution negated the family’s noble blood. In his response, Forese does not answer Dante’s slur directly, but instead makes a similar objection. Since none of the Alighieri engage in blood feuds, their commercial activities contradict their nobility, if indeed the knighthood Conrad III bestowed upon Cacciaguida even was hereditary. Hence, both sonnets address

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the same fundamental issue, that of the nature of aristocracy in an age when few individuals adhered to the manners it entailed. In conclusion, all six sonnets of the tenzone repeat common insults of the age, such as cowardice, sexual misdeeds, sin, poverty, and gluttony. In addition, the writers employ allusive language and innuendo to malign one another; what they say about each other is not nearly as offensive as what they imply. The writers craft highly personal texts, referring to situations and events from each other’s biographies. Forese speaks of Dante’s siblings, uncles, and father, and mentions the institutions sponsored by the Donati. Dante, conversely, discusses Nella’s family heritage and Simone’s villainy. Both of them denigrate each other in order to raise issues of societal and cultural import during the last decades of the Duecento, in particular the ascendancy of the merchants and the decadence of the nobility. Their charges and counter-charges remained relevant for many years afterward; the repeated citations of the poems of the tenzone in the Commedia and the Decameron illustrate its continuing relevance for decades afterward.

3

Hellish Echoes: Reminiscences of the Correspondence in Inferno XXIX and XXX

Addio, Firenze, addio, cielo divino, io ti saluto con questo moncherino, e vo randagio come un Ghibellino (Gianni Schicchi, in Giacomo Puccini’s opera Gianni Schicchi)

For most of his life, Dante’s attitude towards the tenzone with Forese Donati was one of silence. Other authors like Dante da Maiano and Cecco Angiolieri addressed similarly insulting sonnets to him. Dante’s responses to them are lacking, however. He makes no mention of the tenzone in the Vita Nuova and Convivio. The poetic exchange has no place in his treatise De monarchia, nor in any of his political epistles; it does not figure in his scientific writing Questio de aqua et terra. One of the rime petrose contains language similar to Dante’s first sonnet of the tenzone with Forese.1 In ‘Amor, tu vedi ben che questa donna,’ the poet discusses water turning to ice during winter: Segnor, tu sai che per algente freddo l’acqua diventa cristallina petra là sotto tramontana ov’è il gran freddo

(ll. 25–7)

Lord, you know that through freezing cold the water becomes crystal stone, there in the north where the great cold is […;] [the emphases are the translator’s.]

When speaking of Nella’s coldness, he similarly mentioned the ice transforming into crystal in northern lands (ll. 5–6). But the resemblance is almost certainly coincidental. The canzone does not seem to

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adhere to the comic style nor share the slanderous intentions of the poetry of the tenzone. In his writings of literary theory, Dante does not explicitly call to mind the tenzone with Forese either. In the epistle to Cangrande della Scala, of debated attribution,2 his comments pertain specifically to the Commedia. In addition, Dante had intended to treat comic literature in the fourth book of the De vulgari eloquentia (1303–5), but he broke off the literary treatise in the middle of book 2. Still, to consider the tenzone reductively as merely a trivial case of Dante’s juvenilia would be a mistake. The lessons Dante learned from the correspondence directly affected the writing of the Commedia. His insults of Forese opened the door to the invectives found in his masterpiece. The purpose of the discussions in this chapter and the next, therefore, is to explore the relevance of the tenzone to Dante’s life work and in particular to his masterpiece, the Commedia. Thanks to its encyclopedic nature, with its all-encompassing cosmology and poetics, the Comedy constitutes a totalizing work, and, paradoxically, also a highly intimate text. It is not surprising, therefore, that he refers to the tenzone with Forese therein. It is worth noting, however, that the recollections of the correspondence in Dante’s masterpiece are neither fleeting nor insignificant. In at least two episodes, the poet connects the Commedia to the tenzone with Donati. The poet has a lengthy encounter with Forese in Purgatory. In Inferno XXIX and XXX, Dante calls to memory the still-unavenged murder of Geri del Bello; shortly thereafter, Dante views the spirit of Gianni Schicchi, who assisted Forese’s father, Simone, in rewriting Buoso Donati’s testament. Geri and Gianni were implicit to the last two sonnets of the correspondence. Dante’s inclusion of them in hell indicates the relevance of the tenzone with Forese to the last pits of fraud. This chapter will examine Dante’s reminiscences of the tenzone in Inferno XXIX and XXX, while the following will treat Purgatorio XXIII and XXIV. The readings in these chapters will demonstrate the ways in which Dante evokes the tenzone with Donati in the Comedy, and will explore his purposes for doing so. A critical text composed several centuries after Dante’s death helps set up the discussion of Inferno XXIX and XXX. In his manuscript Vatican Barberiniano Latin 3999, the seventeenth-century scholar Federigo Ubaldini compiled all six extant sonnets of the correspondence (ff. 79r–81v). On the page just preceding the transcription of the six poems (f. 78r), Ubaldini provides an interpretation of one of Forese’s sonnets. Although only a portion of it pertains to the discussion at hand, since it is unedited it will be cited in full. It is transcribed below

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

diplomatically, with no corrections whatsoever to the text. All punctuation, underscoring, diacritical marks, and strikethroughs reflect those found in the codex. In the passage below the material in italics represents the spelling out of scribal contractions. My editorial comments on the passage appear within square brackets. Federigo Ubaldini writes: Dante Alighierj BicciCocco alias Fores’ Donati Verament’ sei figlio d’Alighierj3 Alighieri ch’ per certo vezzo furono chiamati Geri e lì sopranominò Geri del Bello ed è per appunto quel Geri ch’ l’irato Dant’ colloca nell’Inferno per mittitori [sic] di scism’ e di scism’ [sic], il qual’ finge Geri mal adirato per la mort’ non ancora vendicatagli nè da lui che glien’è figlio nè da altri figli o altr’ person’ ch’ furon’ consorti dell’onta chiarisc’ tutto questo Fores’ Donati di sopratrovato Verament’ se figlio d’Alighieri ed accorgomene pur’ alla vendetta che facesti di lui si bella e netta Quello che dic’ poi Vincenzo Buonannj trovarsi negli antichi Priorissi [sic] di Firenze oltre Dante 1300. Bonaccorso di Geri del Bello nel 1313 fu e Giovannj di Geri del Bello fu 1336 [The rest of the strikethrough is illegible] n’ fà affermarsi che questi due fossero fratelli di Dante, i quali restassero grati alla part’ nella loro patria, [illegible strikethrough] ed è da notar’ solo tra gli esuli del 1300. com’ singolare è nominato com’ singolar p(er)sona Dante gli altri essendo esiliati in fam stipit’ per così dir’ e non in capit’ Geri del Bello diss’ il Buti che fu fig.lo di Giovannj Dante Alighierj BicciCocco alias Forese Donati Truly you are the son of Alighierj Alighieri which for a certain habit were called Geri and here is nicknamed Geri del Bello and is exactly that Geri which the angry Dante situates in Hell as sowers of schism and of schism [sic], and who portrays Geri extremely angry for his death which has not yet been avenged, either by him who was his son or by other sons or by other persons who shared in the shame.

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Forese Donati clarifies all this in the above-mentioned: Truly you are the son of Alighierj and I realize this by the vendetta you did of him, so clear and sharp That which Vincenzo Buonannj then claims to have found in the ancient Priorissi [sic] of Florence about Dante 1300. Buonaccorso di Geri del Bello was in 1313 and Giovannj di Geri del Bello was 1336 [the rest of the strikethrough is illegible] makes us affirm that these two were brothers of Dante, and they remained welcome in the party of their homeland [illegible strikethrough] and should be noted only among the exiles of 1300. As a singular Dante is singularly mentioned, the others being exiled in fam by houses, so to say, and not individually Buti said that Geri del Bello was the son of Giovannj

Ubaldini conveys mistaken information about Dante’s family: Geri del Bello was Dante’s second cousin, not his father, and Geri’s children therefore were Dante’s third cousins, not brothers. He probably derived incorrect beliefs about Dante’s kin from the insults in Forese’s sonnet, which he twice cites. Ubaldini’s findings about the generally collective nature of banishment from Florence, however, may contribute somewhat to the greater understanding of the history and politics of the age. Importantly, Ubaldini sees a connection between Forese’s last sonnet of the correspondence and Inferno XXIX. He interprets Donati’s accusation about the cowardice of Dante’s lineage as directly related to the episode of Geri del Bello. When composing Inferno XXIX, Dante could not have ignored the personal slander of cowardice hurled at him by Forese Donati. The Commedia seemingly revisits the tenzone in the discussion of the Alighieri family’s failed vendetta for Geri’s murder. But the two cantos of Inferno recollect the tenzone in more ways than simply that of rebutting Forese’s accusation of cowardice. Dante’s second cousin appears as part of a flashback in a highly enigmatic passage.4 Virgil had just led the pilgrim through the ninth of ten malebolge (evil ditches), subsections of the eighth circle of fraud. Throughout Inferno XXVIII, Dante met the souls of the disseminators of schism and discord who had caused splits in the Church or the body politic. He spoke with the prophet Mohammed (ll. 22–60), as well as with Pier da Medicina (ll. 70–100), Mosca the Florentine (ll. 106–11), and the poet Bertran de Born (ll. 118–42), who had all encouraged civil wars. The sinners travel the circuit of the ninth bolgia

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

and a sword-wielding demon physically hacks at them as they pass (ll.  37–42). Owing to its many bodily references, the twenty-eighth canto blends comic topoi with those of other genres, resulting in what Giovanni Niccolai calls an epic of stench.5 The twenty-ninth canto begins with Dante’s procrastination before moving on to the tenth bolgia. He explains that he expected to find Geri del Bello in the ninth pit. Virgil replies that the conversation with Bertran de Born had so thoroughly engaged Dante that he did not notice his second cousin. Geri, therefore, made threatening gestures but left without addressing his younger relative. The first thirty-six lines of Inferno XXIX relate the missed encounter with Geri while the rest of the canto discusses the tenth bolgia of fraud. At first glance, the poet’s condemnation of his second cousin in the bolgia of schismatics seems rather straightforward. The early commentators of the Commedia portrayed Geri precisely as a scandalmonger, and they explained that his actions resulted directly in his murder. Christian doctrine explicitly forbids the seeking of vengeance, and Christ himself counselled turning the other cheek when wronged.6 The author, therefore, appears to condemn Geri’s actions by the very placement of Geri in the ninth bolgia. Yet from the outset of canto XXIX, Dante treats the issue with subtlety. He writes: La molta gente e le diverse piaghe avean le luci mie sì inebrïate che de lo stare a piangere eran vaghe.

(ll. 1–3)

The multitude of people and their strange wounds had so inebriated my eyes that they longed to stay and weep.

In the second line, he describes his yearning to stay as a type of torpor with the word drunk (‘inebrïate,’ l. 2), a loaded term in the culture of the Middle Ages. Dante certainly possessed a full awareness of the connotations of drunkenness, including its comic undertones. In a single word, he brings to mind the literature of the tavern, with all that it suggested. From the very beginning of the passage, Dante indicates the pilgrim’s participation in the sin, as if the desire to seek vengeance has made him foolish. Virgil takes note of Dante’s hesitation to move forward and chastises him:

Reminiscences of the Correspondence in Inferno XXIX and XXX Ma Virgilio mi disse: ‘Che pur guate? perché la vista tua pur si soffolge là giù tra l’ombre triste smozzicate? Tu non hai fatto sì a l’altre bolge; pensa, se tu annoverar le credi, che miglia ventidue la valle volge.[…’]

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(ll. 4–9)

But Virgil said to me: ‘Why do you still stare? Why does your sight still dwell on those wretched mutilated shades down there? You did not act thus at the other pockets; think, if you believe you could number them, that the valley turns for twenty-two miles […’]

The grammar of Virgil’s castigation (l. 4) foreshadows a similar reproach at the end of Inferno XXX, when Dante takes delight in the argument between Mastro Adamo and Sinone (‘Or pur mira,’ l. 131). The similarity of the two rebukes means that the two cantos can be interpreted together, and not as distinct from one another. Furthermore, the two reprimands call to mind the ethical basis for comic literature in general, that is, the castigation of vice. Dante then explains his behaviour to his guide: […] ‘Dentro a quella cava dov’ io tenea or li occhi sì a posta credo ch’un spirto del mio sangue pianga la colpa che là giù cotanto costa.’

(ll. 18–21)

[…] ‘Within that hollow where now I was fixing my eyes, I think a spirit of my blood is weeping for the guilt that costs so much down there.’

The expression ‘a spirit of my blood’ denotes Dante’s family tie to Geri del Bello, of course. But ‘my blood’ also evokes the violence of the bolgia, as if Dante too has been wounded. It implies that Dante was harmed by Geri’s murder. The author calls to mind the ethos of medieval aristocracy with its blood feuds. At the same time, blood is an important term in the thirteenth century, suggesting the bloodlines possessed by the members of the nobility. In a single word, Dante reiterates the violent nature of the sin and reminds the readers of the noble status of his lineage. In the process, the poet recalls one facet of the tenzone with Forese. In his sonnet, Donati brought up Geri’s murder to

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

question the nobility of the Alighieri. In Inferno XXIX, Dante underscores his family’s aristocratic bloodline. Dante suggests here what he will explicitly spell out momentarily; as a member of an affronted noble family, he is also implicated in Geri’s sin. Virgil responds by relating Geri’s actions while Dante’s attention was turned elsewhere. He first induces the pilgrim to forget his relative: Allor disse ’l maestro: ‘Non si franga Lo tuo pensier da qui innanzi sovr’ ello. Attendi ad altro, ed ei là si rimanga;[’]

(ll. 22–4)

Then said my master: ‘Let not your thought break over him from now on. Attend to other things, and let him stay there;[’]

That Virgil commands Dante to leave Geri here indicates Dante’s personal inclination towards revenge.7 It also contradicts Forese’s last sonnet. Dante did not avoid the vendetta out of fear, as Forese claimed, but in fact yearned for it like a true nobleman. Dante desired to seek vengeance, as if he might metaphorically carry Geri in his mind until his murder was avenged. Virgil then relates the scene that Dante had missed while conversing with Bertran de Born: ch’io vidi lui a piè del ponticello mostrarti e minacciar forte col dito, e udi’ ’l nominar Geri del Bello. Tu eri allor sì del tutto impedito sovra colui che già tenne Altaforte, che non guardasti in là, sì fu partito.

(ll. 25–30)

for I saw him at the foot of the bridge, pointing at you and threatening fiercely with his finger, and I heard him called Geri del Bello. You were then so caught by him who held Hautefort [i.e., Bertran de Born] that you did not look there, and he went off.

In the afterlife Geri behaved in a manner befitting a sower of discord. Not only did he threaten a member of his family, but he also pointed his finger at Dante (l. 26). Only once before, in the circle of lust, did the poet employ the expression ‘to point a finger’ (‘mostrare col dito’); as will be seen in the following chapter, however, it recurs in a key passage of

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the Comedy.8 Dante’s precise turn of phrase holds a prominent place in the medieval literature of vituperation. For instance, the thirteenthcentury Latin poet Henry of Settimello, in his philosophical poem Elegia, depicted people pointing at him9 During the first decades of the fourteenth century, such comic authors as Lippo Pasci dei Bardi, Cecco Angiolieri, and Pieraccio Tedaldi portrayed their low positions by describing others pointing fingers at them.10 Like them, Dante employs the gesture to connote shaming. Geri’s action in hell, therefore, constitutes a non-verbal form of public humiliation. The acts of shaming in the passage, however, are not only directed towards the pilgrim. Other people in the pit publicly note Geri, revealing his identity to the two travellers (‘udi’ ’l nominar,’ l. 27). In the thirtieth canto, the poet will illustrate the indignity of being singled out in in hell. The dispute between Mastro Adamo and Sinone will begin when the latter takes umbrage at being named: E l’un di lor, che si recò a noia forse d’esser nomato sì oscuro, col pugno li percosse l’epa croia. (Inferno XXX, ll. 100–2; emphasis added) And one of them, who perhaps resented being named so darkly, with his fist struck him [Adamo] on his taut belly.

The ideology of good reputation and infamy underlay the trope of vituperium. The poetics of insult functioned as the literary version of public shaming by causing its readers to castigate the wicked. Dante acknowledges as much in these two cantos. Geri shames Dante by pointing at him, but is himself disgraced by the other sinners of the ninth pocket of fraud. Both individuals, to differing degrees, have been publicly humiliated by Geri’s murder. The pilgrim immediately comments on Virgil’s statement. He now confirms that he, along with the entire Alighieri clan, shares the dishonour: ‘O duca mio, la vïolenta morte che non li è vendicata ancor,’ diss’ io, ‘per alcun che de l’onta sia consorte, fece lui disdegnoso; ond’ el sen gio sanza parlarmi, sì com’ ïo estimo, e in ciò m’ha el fatto a sé più pio.’

(Inferno XXIX.31–6)

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati ‘O my leader, his violent death, as yet unavenged,’ I said, ‘by anyone who shares the shame of it, has made him full of scorn; therefore he walked away without speaking to me, as I judge, and that has made me more compassionate towards him.’

Dante again employs a loaded term by describing Geri’s relatives as ‘consorte’ (l. 33). While denoting blood relations, it also calls to mind the thirteenth-century consorterie, which were mutual defence agreements by noble families.11 Again, Dante calls to mind the ethos of the nobility, with its emphasis on vendettas, in this passage. Dante makes explicit that which he had previously only suggested; as aristocrats they were honour bound to avenge the death. The entire episode is puzzling, and the overt lack of moral condemnation of blood feuds comprises part of its mystery. Natalino Sapegno writes that Dante may have personally felt conflicted about the issue. As a nobleman, he may have recognized the need for vengeance despite the fact that Christian scripture prohibits the seeking of revenge. Sapegno notes that the failure to retaliate brought shame on a noble family.12 Compounding Dante’s confusion was his participation in the Florentine government in 1300, the year in which his fiction takes place. By the turn of the century, the commune had been engaged in a decadeslong struggle against the blood feuds among the nobility.13 As the Prior of the city, Dante was in no position to avenge Geri’s murder even if he had wanted to. Virgil tells Dante that Geri departed without speaking, and Dante replies that he now feels more compassionate towards his second cousin (ll. 35–6). The poet immediately changes scenes and begins the discussion of the tenth bolgia, that of the falsifiers. The unusual position of the Geri del Bello episode within the structure of Inferno constitutes another part of its ambiguity. Why does the poet place it here, at the start of the twenty-ninth canto, and not as a part of the twenty-eighth? Why not simply have the two bolge portrayed in their own distinct cantos? Why does he indirectly recall his second cousin in a flashback? The narrative about Geri’s murder cited in the introduction may shed some light on his position at the beginning of canto XXIX. Francesco da Buti relates the story, but it probably circulated orally beforehand. As da Buti writes, Geri sought vengeance for the murder of his father by a member of the Gerini family. To do so, he disguised himself as a leper, approached the Gerini house, and stabbed to death one of the guards. If the narrative were true, then Geri should rightly be found in the tenth bolgia, that of the falsifiers. Perhaps Dante acknowledges the narrative

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by counterpoising Geri to the falsifiers to come. Dante clearly positions Geri as a transitional figure between the two pits. The reminiscences of the tenzone in Inferno XXIX do not end with the disappearance of Geri del Bello, and the rest of the canto may clarify the enigmatic episode. Virgil guides the pilgrim to the tenth bolgia, which at first is too dark to reveal its contents (ll. 37–40). The damned engaged in falsification, either of metals (alchemy), coinage (counterfeit), identity (impersonation), or information (false witness). The pilgrim immediately hears the spirits’ laments, which inspire him to block his ears (ll. 40–5). He then describes the multitude of sinners heaped up in piles: Qual dolor fora, se de li spedali di Valdichiana tra ’l luglio e ’l settembre, e di Maremma e di Sardigna i mali fossero in una fossa tutti ’nsembre, tal era quivi, e tal puzzo n’usciva qual suol venir de le marcite membre.

(ll. 46–51)

What the suffering would be, if the sick from the hospitals of Valdichiana between July and September, and from Maremma and Sardinia, were all in one ditch together: such was it there, and a stench came from it like that from rotting limbs.

The description of the odour of decaying flesh reinforces Giovanni Niccolai’s observation about the canto as an epic of stench. It also calls to mind the poetics of the Florentine writer Rustico Filippi, who similarly used smell to deride his targets. Dante crafts the forty-ninth verse to include both the imperfect subjunctive (‘fossero’) and the noun ‘pit’ (‘fossa’), two terms that Rustico had rhymed against one another in a sonnet examined in chapter 1 (‘fosse’ / ‘fosse’); those were the same words that Forese borrowed for his first sonnet. Dante takes the rhyme words of Forese and Rustico, and places them within a single poetic line. Dante employs a coarse, comic style throughout the canto,14 which includes difficult rhymes that connect the Commedia to the tenzone with Forese.15 Further into Inferno XXIX, he describes the alchemists, who are afflicted with leprosy: Io vidi due sedere a sé poggiati, com’ a scaldar si poggia tegghia a tegghia, dal capo a piè di schianze macolati;

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati e non vidi già mai menare stregghia a ragazzo aspettato da segnorso né a colui che mal volontier vegghia, come ciascun menava spesso il morso de l’unghie sopra sé per la gran rabbia del pizzicor, che non ha più soccorso; e sì traevan giù l’unghie la scabbia, come coltel di scardova le scaglie o d’altro pesce che più larghe l’abbia.

(ll. 73–84)

I saw two [sinners] sitting propped against each other, as one props pan against pan to cool, both from head to foot all spotted with scabs; and I have never seen a currycomb so plied by a boy awaited by his master, or by one who unwilling stayed awake, as each one of them plied the bite of his fingernails on himself, for the great rage of the itch, which no longer has any remedy; their nails tore off the scabs like knives scaling breams or some other fish with larger scales.

Dante repeatedly refers to cooking as a comment on alchemy, its practices and utensils. Yet cooking also calls to mind a commonplace of medieval comedies, kitchen humour. He juxtaposes pans (ll. 73–4) and the scaling of fish (ll. 82–4) with the description of the tired servant preparing the master’s horse (ll. 76–8). The lowborn servant reinforces the comic tone of this passage. The convenientia of literary styles stressed that comedies dealt with private persons, while tragedies were about kings and aristocrats.16 By describing their fingernails as biting (‘morso,’ l. 79), Dante further strengthens the comic connotations. Literary theorists characterized invectives in terms of biting or piercing.17 In a single word, Dante evokes the literature of vituperation. The poetic style of the tenth bolgia keeps the memory of the tenzone fresh in mind. Virgil inquires whether the two sinners know of any Italians in the pit (ll. 85–90), and they identify themselves as such (ll. 91–3). He then encourages Dante to address them (ll. 101–2). The first alchemist reveals his identity to the pilgrim: ‘Io fui d’Arezzo, e Albero da Siena,’ rispuose l’un, ‘mi fé mettere al foco; ma quel per ch’io mori’ qui non mi mena.

Reminiscences of the Correspondence in Inferno XXIX and XXX Vero è ch’i’ dissi lui, parlando a gioco: ‘I’ mi saprei levar per l’aere a volo’; e quei, ch’avea vaghezza e senno poco, volle ch’i’ li mostrassi l’arte; e solo perch’ io nol feci Dedalo, mi fece ardere a tal che l’avea per figliuolo. Ma ne l’ultima bolgia de le diece me per l’alchìmia che nel mondo usai dannò Minòs, a cui fallar non lece.’

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(ll. 109–20)

‘I was from Arezzo, and Albero of Siena,’ replied one, ‘sent me to the fire; but what I died for is not what leads me here. It is true that I told him, joking: ‘I could raise myself through the air in flight’; and he, who had eagerness but little sense, wanted me to show him the art; and only because I did not make him Daedalus, he had me burned by one who loved him as a son. But to the last pocket of the ten, for alchemy, which I practiced in the world, Minos damned me, who does not err.’

The poet does not explicitly name the alchemist, but the fourteenthcentury commentators recognize him as Griffolino. In relating Griffolino’s narrative, the poet stresses two key elements. First, the sentence passed on Griffolino for heresy was false (l. 111). Dante raises the question of the fallibility of worldly punishment, while repeating the infallibility of the afterworld, mentioned earlier in the twenty-ninth canto: ‘the minister of the Lord, infallible justice’ (‘la ministra / de l’alto Sire infallabil giustizia,’ ll. 55–6). Second, the author specifies that a joke led to Griffolino’s execution (l. 112). Comedies were frequently characterized with the etymon to the word ‘joke’ (‘jocosus’).18 Hence, with the latter reference, the pattern emerges that the poet studs the twenty-ninth canto with the literary terminology of the age. Dante interjects that no other people are as vain as the Sienese, not even the French (ll. 121–3). At this point the other alchemist, who later identifies himself as Capocchio, inveighs against Siena: Onde l’altro lebbroso, che m’intese, rispuose al detto mio: ‘Tra’mene Stricca, che seppe far le temperate spese, e Niccolò, che la costuma ricca

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati del garofano prima discoverse ne l’orto dove tal seme s’appicca, e tra’ne la brigata in che disperse Caccia d’Ascian la vigna e la gran fronda, e l’Abbagliato suo senno proferse.[’]

(ll. 124–32)

And the other leper, who heard me, replied to my word: ‘Except for Stricca, he knew how to spend moderately, and Nicholas, who first discovered the rich custom of cloves [or possibly carnations], in the garden where that seed takes root, and except for the crew for whom Caccia d’Asciano used up his vineyard and his great farmlands, and to whom Bedazzled displayed his wisdom.[’]

Capocchio speaks ironically, for he enumerates people renowned at the time for sumptuous banquets and feasting. The fourteenth-century commentators of Inferno describe the opulence of a group of twelve Sienese youths who called themselves the ‘crew of spendthrifts’ (‘brigata spendereccia’). They served each other fried florins,19 ate off golden dishes and flatware, which were then ceremoniously tossed out the windows,20 and burned expensive carnation petals in the cooking of meats;21 other commentators speak of game stuffed with cloves.22 They usually identify Stricca as a member of the Salimbeni family, Nicholas as one of the powerful Bonsignori, and the man nicknamed Bedazzled (‘l’Abbagliato’) as one of the Folcacchieri.23 The poet notes that the companions quickly exhausted their possessions (l. 131). By referring to the custom of the carnations (or cloves) (l. 127–8), Dante highlights that overeating caused the youths’ indigence. Their gluttony, therefore, is a crucial element for the interpretation of the canto. Perhaps Dante placed the kitchen humour earlier in the canto to foreshadow the youths’ overeating and squandering of their wealth. At first blush, Capocchio’s invective against Siena seems out of place in the discussion of the falsifiers, as it might be better suited in the circle of the spendthrifts or the gluttons. The poet does not draw any clear connection between the dissipation of the Sienese and the sins punished in the tenth bolgia. Presumably the alchemist mentions the wasteful Sienese youths in relationship to his own transgression: falsification pursued in the hopes of procuring more wealth in the service of empty delights. Given the implications of over-consumption in the denunciation of Siena, its position in the twenty-ninth canto takes on some

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relevance. Capocchio’s charge against the Sienese capitalizes on the correspondence with Forese Donati. The falsifier’s invective mirrors Dante’s accusation in the tenzone that gluttony inevitably results in bankruptcy, destroying noble families. The tirade functions in part as a reminder of the correspondence between Dante and Forese. As with the recollection of Geri del Bello, Dante encompasses another accusation from his tenzone with Forese in Inferno. Capocchio then makes a request of the pilgrim, which closes out the twenty-ninth canto: [‘]Ma perché sappi chi sì ti seconda contra i Sanesi, aguzza ver’ me l’occhio, sì che la faccia mia ben ti risponda: sì vedrai ch’io son l’ombra di Capocchio, che falsai li metalli con l’alchimìa; e te dee ricordar, se ben t’adocchio, com’io fui di natura buona scimia.’

(ll. 133–9)

[‘]But so that you may know who seconds you against the Sienese, sharpen your eye toward me, that my face may answer to you: then you will see that I am the shade of Capocchio, who falsified metals with alchemy; and you must remember, if I eye you well, how good an ape I was of nature.’

Dante will remember, Capocchio stresses, that he was able to ape nature (l. 139). The commentators approach the line with some puzzlement. For instance, Francesco da Buti writes: questo si può intendere com’io fui per natura in aoperare l’alchimia: altrimenti si può intendere ch’elli fosse naturalmente contrafacitore delli atti delli uomini, come è la scimmia; ma io credo più tosto il primo intendimento. This can be understood as ‘how I was [an ape] for nature’ in adopting alchemy; otherwise, it can be understood that he was naturally a mimic to the actions of other men, as is the monkey; but I rather believe the first interpretation.

It appears that Dante deliberately intended the possible interpretation that Capocchio was an impersonator. The poet wrote the line enigmatically, raising again the question of the appropriate punishment of

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

these sinners. Thus, the positioning of Geri del Bello at the outset of Inferno XXIX takes on significance when interpreted in light of the entire canto. Dante’s second cousin is the first of a series of individuals whose true sins are difficult to ascertain. The alchemist Griffolino was burned as a heretic; the gluttonous ‘crew of spendthrifts’ are mentioned in the circle of fraud; and Capocchio was renowned as an ape of nature. By insisting on the infallibility of Divine Justice, Dante indicts the sin of falsification, which results in false appearances. The falsifiers, along with Dante’s second cousin, embody their sin by blurring the ontological categories of existence. The thirtieth canto begins with a lengthy analogy. The poet devotes seven tercets to describing the insanity of three characters from classical literature. He then compares their madness to that of the impersonators who run wildly through the tenth bolgia. Dante first portrays Athamas, who hunted his wife and children, believing them to be a lioness and her cubs (ll. 4–9). Athamas seized his son Learchus and dashed his head against a boulder (ll. 10–11); at this, Athamas’s wife lost her mind and drowned herself along with her second son (l. 12). After finding the body of her son Polydorus, Hecuba lost her mind and barked like a dog (ll. 13–21). While all three personages exemplify insanity, Dante underscores a second similarity among them. The poet narrates the filicides by both Athamas and his wife; the wife’s psychosis, moreover, was caused by the death of her children, as was that of Hecuba. Therefore, when the poet draws the connections between the impersonators and the characters from classical literature, he implies more about the nature of the sin. The mad souls of the impersonators burst onto the scene biting the other damned spirits (ll. 25–7). One of them sinks his teeth into the nape of Capocchio’s neck and drags the alchemist along the ground (ll. 28– 30). Griffolino identifies the soul that assaulted Capocchio: E l’Aretin, che rimase, tremando mi disse: ‘Quel folletto è Gianni Schicchi, e va rabbioso altrui così conciando.’

(ll. 31–3)

And the Aretine, who remained, trembling told me: ‘That goblin is Gianni Schicchi, and in his rage he goes treating others so.’

Less than one hundred lines after the introduction of Geri del Bello, the man who assisted Forese Donati’s father is identified. The poet

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maintains the readers’ focus on the youthful correspondence by introducing another figure from it. In the tenzone Dante alluded to the fraudulent testament dictated by Gianni Schicchi. In his last sonnet of the exchange, Dante used that narrative as a subtext to cast doubts about the legitimacy of Forese and his brothers. The author does not mention Gianni Schicchi coincidentally in Inferno XXX, but does so to draw together certain threads of the narrative. The reason for the particular classical allusions at the start of the canto then becomes evident. The pilgrim inquires about the second insane spirit, and Griffolino tells him that she is Myrrha, who impersonated another woman to seduce her own father (ll. 37–41). Given the sterility of incest, the classical figures’ filicides relate directly to her sin. Similarly, the author explores the breaking of lineages in relationship to Gianni Schicchi. Myrrha and Gianni Schicchi are similar to one another because both interrupted the descent of patrimonies, in terms of both genetic and monetary inheritances.24 Griffolino explains: [‘Gianni Schicchi] sostenne, per guadagnar la donna de la torma, falsificare in sé Buoso Donati, testando e dando al testamento norma.’

(ll. 42–5)

[‘]to gain the queen of the herd [Gianni Schicchi] dared to counterfeit in himself Buoso Donati, making a will and giving it legal form.’

When Gianni falsified the testament of the deceased nobleman Buoso Donati, he willed himself Buoso’s mule, renowned as one of the finest in Tuscany. Dante asserts that Gianni was motivated to earn for himself a lady or queen (‘la donna,’ l. 43). The poet uses a term derived directly from the language of nobility (from the Latin domina). When falsely acquiring the goods of an aristocrat, Gianni might have bought himself a lineage. She was not a noblewoman among people, however, but of the herd (‘de la torma,’ l. 43). In one highly artistic verse, Dante both evokes and denies the notion of aristocratic descendents for Gianni. He suggests that Schicchi’s crime produced the same sterile results as Myrrha’s. Indeed, Gianni’s payment, the mule, a sterile animal, embodies in itself the very idea of broken bloodlines suggested by Athamas and Hecuba. In Inferno Dante describes Gianni’s fraud in a manner similar to the tenzone with Forese. The barrenness of falsification echoes the implication that Simone Donati’s crimes tainted the blood of the Donati. In one

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

sonnet of the tenzone, Dante raised the question of Forese’s paternity to also cast Forese’s nobility into doubt. By falsely acquiring another man’s patrimony, Simone made bastards of his own sons. By writing of sterility in canto XXX Dante all but confirms that the narrative about Gianni Schicchi informed his sonnet. Within the economy of Inferno, Gianni is the last of a sequence of individuals all associated with the destruction of the social and political order. Geri del Bello’s violence rent the body politic, the alchemists promised easy wealth, the ‘crew of spendthrifts’ indulged themselves to the point of ruin, and Gianni Schicchi falsely acquired part of another man’s inheritance. The reminiscences of the tenzone with Forese, cast across two cantos, emphasize the decay of the Italian nobility during the last decades of the thirteenth century. After seeing Gianni Schicchi, Dante encounters the shade of the counterfeiter Mastro Adamo, whose bloated soul has the appearance of a lute (l. 49). In real life Adamo had been induced to counterfeit by three members of the Romena branch of the Counts Guidi – Guido, Alessandro, and Aghinolfo.25 In Inferno, Adamo twice calls this fact to mind. First, his eternal thirst causes him to reminisce about the rivulets that flow in the hills of Casentino, the lands of the Counts Guidi:26 ‘The little streams that from the green hills of the Casentino come down into Arno […] always stand before me’ (‘Li ruscelletti che d’i verdi colli / del Casentin discendon giuso in Arno, / […] sempre mi stanno innanzi,’ ll. 64–5, 67). He then explicitly recollects the role of the Counts Guidi in his crime, eventual execution, and eternal damnation: Ivi è Romena, là dov’ io falsai la lega suggellata del Battista, per ch’io il corpo sù arso lasciai. Ma s’io vedessi qui l’anima trista di Guido o d’Alessandro o di lor frate per Fonte Branda non darei la vista.

(ll. 73–8)

There is Romena, where I falsified the alloy sealed with the Baptist, for which I left my body burned up there. But if I might see here the wicked soul of Guido or Alessandro or their brother, for Fonte Branda I would not trade the sight.

Adamo mentions that one of his former companions is now with him in this bolgia but he is too bloated to search for him (ll. 79–87). In Inferno Mastro Adamo highlights the misdeeds of the Counts Guidi.

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Immediately thereafter, a noisy argument breaks out between Mastro Adamo and the Trojan Sinone (ll. 106–29). Although their dispute is not itself a tenzone literally speaking, scholarship is in agreement that the literary technique of the vituperative exchanges underlies the row. As the fourteenth-century commentator Benvenuto da Imola writes: Nunc auctor artificiose fingit unam litem jocosam, quae incidente orta est inter duos, scilicet accusatorem et accusatum.27 Now the author artificially fashions a jocose argument, which had arisen incidentally between two people, evidently the accuser and the accused.

Stylistically, the argument resembles the exchanges of vituperative verse.28 The poet’s guttural geminate consonants, truncated rhymes, and monosyllables together create a grotesque tone.29 Its position here only serves to reinforce the memory of the exchange with Forese throughout these two cantos. The episode begins when Sinone, having been pointed out by the counterfeiter, responds by striking Adamo across the belly. Adamo in turn slaps Sinone’s face and threatens more blows if necessary: E l’un di lor, che si recò a noia forse d’esser nomato sì oscuro, col pugno li percosse l’epa croia. Quella sonò come fosse un tamburo; e mastro Adamo li percosse il volto col braccio suo, che non parve men duro, dicendo a lui: ‘Ancor che mi sia tolto lo muover per le membra che son gravi, ho io il braccio a tal mestiere sciolto.’ Ond’ ei [Sinone] rispose: ‘Quando tu andavi al fuoco, non l’avei tu così presto: ma sì e più l’avei quando coniavi.’ E l’idropico [Adamo]: ‘Tu di’ ver di questo: ma tu non fosti sì ver testimonio là ’ve del ver fosti a Troia richesto.’

(ll. 100–14)

And one of them, who perhaps resented being named so darkly, with his fist struck him on his taut belly. That resounded as if it were a drum; and Master Adam struck the other’s face with his arm, which seemed no less hard,

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati saying to him: ‘Although I am deprived of movement by my heavy limbs, I have an arm loose for such business.’ And he [Sinon] replied: ‘When you were going to the fire, you didn’t have it so ready; but that much and more you had it when you were coining.’ And the hydroptic [Adam]: ‘You say true there, but you were not such a true witness where you were asked the truth for Troy.’

Adamo concedes that he had, in fact, counterfeited (l. 112). Sinone mentions the innumerable coins that had been falsified, juxtaposing them to his one sin: ‘S’io dissi falso, e tu falsasti il conio,’ disse Sinone; ‘e son qui per un fallo, e tu per più ch’alcun altro demonio!’

(ll. 115–17)

‘If I spoke falsely, you falsified the coinage,’ said Sinon, ‘and I am here for one fault, but you for more than any other demon!’

Robert M. Durling points out the irony that a ‘striking aspect of the quarrel in Canto XXX is that each of these two arch-deceivers say nothing to each other that is not strictly true […].’30 The truth value of reprehension is important, because otherwise it does not serve its function as the correction of vice. In his response, Adamo makes reference to Sinone’s infamy, highlighting the fact that it appears in numerous literary texts: ‘Ricorditi, spergiuro, del cavallo’ rispuose quel ch’avëa infiata l’epa; ‘e sieti reo che tutto il mondo sallo!’

(ll. 118–20)

‘Remember, perjurer, the Horse,’ replied he of the swollen liver; ‘and let it be bitter to you that the whole world knows of it!’

No end appears in sight to the quarrel, when Virgil interrupts the spectacle: Ad ascoltarli er’ io del tutto fisso, quando ’l maestro mi disse: ‘Or pur mira! che per poco che teco non mi risso.’

(ll. 130–2)

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I was all intent to listen to them, when my master said to me: ‘Now keep looking, for I am not far from quarreling with you!’

The lexeme ‘risso’ (l. 132) is derived from the Latin rixa, which was one of the synonyms for contentio (i.e., tenzone).31 In effect, Virgil warns Dante that he too will face a war of words if he continues to listen. The poet defines the conflict as a type of insulting tenzone in its own right. The quarrel between the damned souls builds continuously, with one slur answered by another; replies lead to further responses, thus creating a vicious cycle. But the argument never really comes to an end. Instead, Dante’s enjoyment of it is cut off by Virgil’s rebuke. At that point, the traveller turns his attention away from the two sinners, but he does not spell out that they have ceased denigrating each other. It could potentially continue forever. Dante grants to both Adamo and Sinone the same amount of text, one tercet, for their utterances. In other words, the Commedia adheres to the rule that tenzonanti each deserve the same amount of space.32 Only the last statement by Mastro Adamo breaks the pattern, as he takes up six lines instead of the usual three (ll. 124–9). But Dante does more than allude to the literary genre of derisive tenzoni in his poem. Throughout the episode, he employs musical terminology (i.e., lute, l. 49; drum, l.  103). Scholars have noted Dante’s knowledge of the musical techniques and theories of the thirteenth century,33 and have commented on how he creates an ‘anti-music’ in hell based on disharmonic unpleasantness and harshness.34 With his rissa between Adamo and Sinone, he may indicate how tenzoni were musically performed at the time. Such a supposition is not unreasonable, given that we know other lyric forms were set to music. He indicates that jocose tenzoni were backed by stringed instruments and percussion.35 Dante even recollects the acommatic intentions of tenzoni because the two souls repeatedly make accusations of one another – true accusations, it should be recalled – that focus on the welfare of the polis: the security of the state (Sinone’s misdeed) juxtaposed with its economic wellbeing (Adamo’s crime). The poet crafts the infernal performance of a tenzone, one which may stretch to eternity and whose only spectator is Dante himself. Its two participants, as personifications of problems facing a state, also mirror the two figures from the tenzone with Forese Donati. Like Geri del Bello, Sinone represents the threat to civic security, while Adamo, like Simone Donati, embodies the risks to economics.

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

Virgil’s rebuke draws the pilgrim’s attention away from the contention, and recalls the similar castigation at the start of Inferno XXIX: […] ‘Or pur mira, Che per poco che teco non mi risso!’

(ll. 131–2)

[…] ‘Now keep looking, for I am not far from quarreling with you!’

Some scholars have interpreted this as the repudiation of the comic style.36 Virgil apparently accords with II Timothy 2:14, which warns that bickering ‘ruins those who listen.’37 But as the poet of the Commedia, Dante does not ever fully renounce the literature of invective. The mature Dante, even in the last portions of Paradiso, employs the reprehension of vice in his work.38 Furthermore, Dante constructs Virgil’s castigation of the pilgrim in a distinctive manner. The plebeian opening imprecation, the consonantal quality of the two verses, and the possible threat of physical violence together recall comic poetics.39 In short, the poet constructs Virgil’s rebuke following the strictures of the comic style. If Dante reviles comic literature on moral grounds in these verses, then he does so with a great degree of subtlety. In conclusion, Dante situates the correspondence with Forese Donati as a subtext to Inferno XXIX and XXX. It is specifically invoked through the references to Geri del Bello and Gianni Schicchi, two individuals recalled by the tenzonanti in their sonnets. But he also repeatedly alludes to the ethics of comic poetry throughout the episode. At no time does Dante retract the accusations of the tenzone in the tenth pit of fraud. He acknowledges, rather, the respective failings of the Alighieri and Donati families. But the question remains as to why he might introduce the correspondence at this particular moment in the Comedy. Why bring up the tenzone in the bolgia of the falsifiers? The answer to that question may come from reviewing the individuals in the two cantos. Each sinner personifies in some way a failing of the thirteenth-century Italian aristocracy, whether it be violence (Geri del Bello), squandered wealth (the ‘crew of spendthrifts’), economic fraud (Capocchio, Gianni Schicchi, and Mastro Adamo), or political malfeasance (Sinone). Two of the major figures of the episode, Geri del Bello and Gianni Schicchi, encompass several negative traits at the same time, embodying in themselves the problems of their entire class. Perhaps this can account for Dante’s slippery descriptions of these sins, which are not easily distinguished from others; perhaps

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they collectively personify the decadent urban aristocracy. As opposed to the truly noble individuals of the past, the contemporary aristocrats were falsifiers. Their specific sins are less important than their empty impersonation of great noblemen. Inferno XXIX and XXX indicate Dante’s interpretation of the correspondence, in his maturity, as dealing with the Florentine nobles.

4

The Terrace of the Tenzone: Purgatorio XXIII and XXIV

Inferno XXIX and XXX have echoes of the tenzone with Forese Donati; Purgatorio XXIII and XXIV depend upon the exchange. The pilgrim meets the spirit of Forese Donati on the terrace of gluttony, inviting the reader to see the connections to their correspondence. Several scholars have already examined the encounter with Forese in the afterworld for reminiscences of their tenzone. Attilio Momigliano claims that the cantos are incomprehensible without making reference to it. Piero Cudini notes Dante’s appropriation in Purgatorio of four rhymes which also had been utilized in the sonnets (‘-ese,’ ‘-oglia,’ ‘-etta,’ ‘-ui’). Vittorio Russo, moreover, discusses the phonic traits in the cantos that characterize comic poetry, such as geminate ‘z’ (‘sprazzo,’ ‘solazzo’) and difficult rhymes (‘-ema,’ ‘-emme,’ ‘-ecco’).1 This chapter builds upon their work and presents a reading of the passage from Purgatorio. It investigates the relationship between the terrace of gluttony and the tenzone with Forese. It also examines the clues as to the critical assessment of the sonnets by the author of the Commedia. Dante converses with two individuals on the terrace of gluttony, Forese Donati and the Lucchese poet Bonagiunta Orbicciani. The poetic activities of Forese Donati and Bonagiunta Orbicciani play a role in Dante’s representation of them in Purgatorio. The extant poetry of Forese consists solely of the tenzone with Dante. Bonagiunta, in contrast, was a Siculo-Tuscan poet who left a corpus of some thirty-nine lyrics. The commentator Jacopo della Lana justifies Bonagiunta’s presence in Purgatorio XXIV with his poetry.2 Jacopo cites Bonagiunta’s tenzoni with Dante to explain his appearance in the Commedia. Yet Jacopo is not the only commentator to mention Bonagiunta’s literary correspondences. The ‘anonimo fiorentino’ highlights his famous exchange

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with Guido Guinizzelli.3 In it, Bonagiunta criticized Guinizzelli for having changed the terminology of love poetry (‘Voi che avete mutato la mainera,’ l. 1). Many readers of the Due- and Trecento interpreted their correspondence as marking a break between two poetic schools, and as positioning Guinizzelli as the founder of a new form of poetics.4 The tenzone between Guinizzelli and Bonagiunta had a broad codicological diffusion in the Duecento. Thus, the reception of it was not uniform, but instead reflected local trends. Nonetheless, the wide circulation of the tenzone between Bonagiunta and Guinizzelli suggests that medieval readership frequently emphasized their diametrical opposition to one another.5 Dante’s treatment of Bonagiunta in Purgatorio XXIV also indicates that he read his tenzone with Guinizzelli in a similar fashion. Dante cast Bonagiunta as the mouthpiece for the poetics superseded by Guinizzelli’s.6 Most poets engaged in tenzoni during the Duecento, but it appears that Dante chose Forese and Bonagiunta as representative of poetic correspondences. Dante embedded the allusion to Bonagiunta’s tenzone with Guinizzelli between two reminiscences of his tenzone with Forese. The terrace of gluttony also represents the terrace of tenzoni. That Bonagiunta and Forese both engaged in tenzoni is not coincidental to their sin of gluttony. The relationship between overeating and literary tenzoni is not incongruous. The Epistle of James teaches that people should use their mouths in the praise of God, and not to curse other people (3:8–10). Of course, not all tenzoni were insulting. But they reflected the agonistic ideals of the culture, and it was often a quick pass from competition to insult. In the twelfth century, moreover, moralists such as Alan of Lille, Peter Cantor, and Guillaume Peyrault became increasingly preoccupied with sinful speech, the socalled sins of the tongue.7 Around the middle of the thirteenth century, Guillaume Peyrault composed the compendium of the sins of the tongue, numbering them at twenty-four.8 Peyrault’s work influenced other writers, including Lorens d’Orléans, Domenico Cavalca, and the anonymous English author of the treatise De lingua.9 Importantly, these writers all followed Peyrault’s lead in associating the sins of the tongue with those of the throat, that is, gluttony.10 In Peyrault’s ideology, the mouth, for ingestion and communication, was the locus of vice. One such sin of the tongue was the war of words, contentio. Medieval ethicists defined contentio as an attack on one’s neighbour not to find the truth, but to demonstrate one’s own aggressiveness. It symbolized the stubbornness of the individuals who maintained their positions despite all reason; as such, it was the daughter of vainglory.11

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

As indicated previously, the word contentio is also the Latin etymon for tenzone. The overlap in terminology between the unethical contentio and poetic tenzoni is intriguing, but how ethicists and literary scholars addressed it remains unclear. From the outset of Purgatorio XXIII, Dante acknowledges the link between the sins of the tongue and tenzoni. Accompanied by Virgil and the poet Statius, the pilgrim hears singing: Ed ecco piangere e cantar s’udìe ‘Labia mëa, Domine’ per modo tal, che diletto e doglia parturìe.

(ll. 10–12)

And behold, we heard weeping and singing of ‘Labia mea, Domine,’ in a manner that gave birth to both delight and woe.

The poet cites only a portion of Psalm 50:17, yet the entire verse is significant to his passage: ‘Domine labia mea aperies et os meum adnuntiabit laudem tuam’ (‘O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise’).12 When the biblical verse is read in its entirety, its rationale in this context is clear: the gluttonous souls now need to use their mouths to praise God. The poet places the concept of praise (‘laudem’) in high relief precisely by omitting it from his citation; the reader needs to complete the passage to understand the proper use of the mouth. In this way, the poet underscores the diverse semantic meanings of the term ‘praise.’ Laudation was a lexeme that frequently appeared in literary treatises. The translator of Averroes, Hermann the German, for instance, stressed that all literature, whether accidentally or by design, served a didactic function by either praising the righteous or blaming the sinful (‘omnis oratio poetica aut est vituperatio aut est laudatio’).13 Comedy was equated with blame, while tragedy was equated with praise.14 Literary invectives, therefore, were an intrinsic component of the moral intentions of literature.15 By citing the Psalm, he introduces to the episode the oppositional duality of praise and blame, with all that these terms imply. The binomial of praise and blame to a great degree underlies the entire episode on the terrace of gluttony. It is most likely that the poet recollects the tenzone with Forese precisely to explore the moral and ethical dimensions of praise and blame. With the figures of Bonagiunta and Forese, Dante foregrounds literary questions throughout the entire episode on the terrace of gluttony. In the tercet from Purgatorio cited above, Dante indicates the ethical

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aspects of poetic speech. The gluttons sing to exalt the Lord, but they also shed tears in the process. Dante again claims that he hears weeping and singing (‘piangere e cantar’), a pairing reiterated two lines later when he describes the effects of their voices (‘diletto e doglia’). Further into the canto, Forese describes the souls as crying as they sing (‘Tutta esta gente che piangendo canta,’ l. 64). The theorists of the oral sins also promoted positive uses of the mouth, such as the intimate dialogue with God, the sacramental confession of sins, and words of brotherly love.16 That the gluttons weep suggests their regret for their sins. Their tears are external evidence of the castigation of their own vices. In Purgatorio Dante does not reject outright the moral basis for the poetics of vituperation but places it in a greater ethical framework. At the end of canto XXII, Dante hears a voice from the tree enumerate the negative examples of gluttony (ll. 139–54). As canto XXIII begins, he remains fixated on the tree: Mentre che li occhi per la fronda verde ficcava ïo, sì come far suole chi dietro a li uccellin sua vita perde […]

(ll. 1–3)

While I was probing with my eyes through the green foliage, as one does who wastes his life after the little birds […]

Dante likens himself to a hunter, who presumably uses nets or snares to catch small birds. The implication of birds caught in knotted traps recollects one of the sonnets addressed to Forese: Ben ti faranno il nodo Salamone Bicci novel, e’ petti delle starne

(ll. 1–2)

Partridge breasts, young Bicci, will truss you in Solomon’s knot all right!

In the sonnet, Dante presented a comically inverted situation as the partridge breasts ensnare Forese. In Purgatorio, the hunter is also ensnared, wasting his life in the pursuit of his prey (‘sua vita perde,’ l. 3). The hunter may catch individual birds, but hunting captures him. The opening tercet also initiates one of the motifs of the terrace of gluttony. Dante laces the two cantos with references to knotting. For example, several lines later Virgil explains the singing they hear as the voices of penitent souls:

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati […] ‘Ombre che vanno forse di lor dover solvendo il nodo.’

(ll. 14–15)

‘Shades who perhaps go untying the knot of their debt.’

Perhaps the most famous example of knotted imagery in this episode occurs in canto XXIV, during the conversation with Bonagiunta (ll. 55–7). That discourse draws together several threads of the two cantos, however, and not only the references to knots; therefore, it will be discussed more fully below. But from the outset, Purgatorio XXIII brings to mind Dante’s poetic insult of Forese. As Dante journeys through the terrace, the character Forese recognizes him, exclaiming in joy: ‘What grace is this for me!’ (‘Qual grazia m’è questa!’ l. 42). Due to Forese’s emaciation, Dante identifies his voice but not his face (ll. 44–5). The emphasis on his face may itself recollect the tenzone, in which Dante slurred Forese’s scarred visage (‘faccia fessa’).17 As mentioned in chapter 2, some scholars conjecture that Forese had been branded as punishment of his thievery. In Purgatorio Forese immediately dissuades Dante from taking notice of his altered features: ‘Deh, non contendere a l’asciutta scabbia che mi scolora,’ pregava, ‘la pelle, né a difetto di carne ch’io abbia, ma dimmi il ver di te, dì chi son quelle due anime che là ti fanno scorta: non rimaner che tu non mi favelle!’

(ll. 49–54)

‘Ah, do not pay attention to the dry scales that discolor my skin,’ he begged, ‘nor to my lack of flesh, but tell me the truth about yourself, tell who are those two souls that accompany you there: do not be silent, speak to me!’

When Forese asks the pilgrim to ignore his current physical state, he does so by utilizing a suggestive verb: ‘non contendere’ (l. 49). Here, ‘contendere’ means ‘to pay attention to’;18 yet, surely Dante also knew that ‘contendere’ was derived from contentio, the etymon of the word tenzone. Forese does more than ask Dante to overlook his fallen appearance. He appeals to the pilgrim to temper his speech. He uses ‘contendere’ with the sense of pointing out a flaw. Forese, in short, asks that Dante refrain from potentially denigrating second-person utterances. Once again the poet subtly foregrounds the concepts of praise and blame.

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Seeing Forese’s now withered countenance, the pilgrim relives the grief felt at Donati’s passing some five years prior (ll. 55–7). The ‘ottimo commento’ claimed that Alighieri was present at Forese’s demise.19 Yet the passage also reinforces the intertextuality with the tenzone. Dante asks to remain silent momentarily, explaining, ‘for he speaks ill who is full of some other desire’ (‘ché mal può dir chi è pien d’altra voglia,’ l. 60). The expression ‘to speak ill’ (‘mal […] dir’) seems to indicate vituperation. Dante implies that derision may occur even in cases when the speaker does not intend it. In this instance, a passage of Brunetto Latini’s La rettorica quoted in chapter 1 is instructive. Latini proposed an expansive definition of tenzoni to include all literature. Any work, whether an epistle or a canzone, inspired by hortatory intentions – if, in other words, the writer requests, threatens, comforts, or advises – rightly falls into the classification of tenzoni.20 The poet apparently acknowledges Brunetto’s definition in this verse, because a speaker’s ulterior motive may result in involuntary denigration. The speaker might highlight some deficiency or oversight on the part of the interlocutor. Dante suggests that praise, the opposite of invective, can only be uttered when the speaker’s mind is unclouded by other intentions. Otherwise, it is most appropriate to hold one’s tongue. After Forese explains the nature of the gluttons’ purgation (ll. 61–76), the pilgrim enquires about Forese’s height on the mountain: Se prima fu la possa in te finita di peccar più, che sovvenisse l’ora del buon dolor ch’a Dio ne rimarita come se’ tu qua sù venuto ancora?

(ll. 79–82)

If the power to continue sinning failed in you before the hour came of the good sorrow that marries us to God again, how have you come up here already? […]

By describing death as a pain that re-weds the soul to God (‘rimarita,’ l. 81), the poet develops a second network of lexicon, this time about women. Early in the canto, he described the emotions provoked by the singing of the Psalm in the language of parturition: ‘in a manner that gave birth to both delight and woe’ (‘tal, che diletto e doglia parturìe,’ l.  12; emphases added). Dante does not only enumerate examples of praiseworthy women, brides and mothers, in the cantos. He also includes the most extreme counterexample, filicide. When he first viewed the souls of the gluttons, their emaciated condition reminded him of the starvation caused during the first-century siege of Jerusalem:

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati Io dicea fra me stesso pensando: ‘Ecco la gente che perdé Ierusalemme, quando Maria nel figlio diè di becco!’

(ll. 28–30)

I was saying in my thoughts: ‘Behold the people who lost Jerusalem, when Mary put her beak into her son.’

Dante mentions the narrative related by Flavius Josephus (De bello judaico 6.4.3) about a hungry woman who killed, roasted, and ate her infant. The network of feminine lexicon is important, for it anticipates Forese’s explanation of his quick ascent of Purgatory; it also recollects the tenzone with Forese another time in this episode. Dante insulted Forese’s wife by describing her hacking cough. In his sonnet, Dante established intertextual links with Rustico Filippi. Not only did Dante borrow turns of phrase from Rustico, but he co-opted some of his poetic intentions as well. Dante emulated Rustico’s aims of chastising female misbehaviour to effect a socio-political satire. Dante raised the question of Nella’s fidelity to Forese, suggesting affiliations with the Ghibellines, a party inimical to the Guelph Donati. Dante implied that Forese ignored her precisely because her allegiance to him could not be trusted. In Purgatorio, Forese explains that he has advanced quickly up the mountain due to Nella’s weeping and prayers. Forese casts Nella as an intercessor of God to explain her ability to assist him: Con suoi prieghi devoti e con sospiri tratto m’ha de la costa ove s’aspetta, e liberato m’ha de li altri giri. Tanto è a Dio più cara e diletta la vedovella mia, che molto amai, quanto in bene operare è più soletta […]

(ll. 88–93)

With her devoted prayers and sighs she has drawn me from the shore of waiting, and she has freed me from the other circles. My dear little widow, whom I dearly loved, is the dearer to God and more beloved the more isolated she is in her good actions […]

In Purgatorio the poet contradicts one of his previous statements. In the tenzone, Dante had implied Forese’s disdain for his wife. Now, Donati stresses his affection for her (‘che molto amai,’ l. 92). Earlier,

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moreover, the poet had emphasized Nella’s continued devotion to her deceased husband (‘Con suoi prieghi devoti,’ l. 88; emphasis added). Dante takes the opportunity to correct a misstatement from the tenzone. Forese did not reject Nella, he did not mistrust her fidelity to him and to his family, but always loved her. She, for her part, never sided against the Donati.21 While the poet corrects some of his statements from the tenzone with Forese, the passage is not a complete repudiation of the exchange.22 The author engages in the vituperation of female vice characteristic of the six sonnets. Immediately after praising his widow, Donati contrasts Nella’s virtue with the shamelessness of Florentine women generally. Benedetto Croce speaks of the invective as a digression that detracted from the more lyrical aspects of the canto.23 But when viewed from the perspective of the binomial of praise/blame that underlies the episode, the condemnation of the Florentine women is anything but a non sequitur. Forese compares Florence to the Barbagia, a region of Sardinia noted for the offensive behaviour of its inhabitants (ll. 94–6). He then foresees the drawing up of new legislation to prevent Florentine women from showing their breasts in public (ll. 97–102). Forese alludes to the Florentine sumptuary laws passed early in the fourteenth century. As demonstrated in previous chapters, the literary denigration of women frequently entails a social commentary at the same time. Historically, sumptuary laws which proscribed luxury goods, including ostentatious clothing for women, were enacted to enforce public morality; but they also reinforced the conservative social order by allowing exemptions for members of the highest socio-economic status.24 Thus, Forese’s reference to the laws in his invective against the Florentine women introduces a note which is both ethical and social. Then Forese adds that he, unlike the women, can foresee God’s punishment: Ma se le svergognate fosser certe di quel che ’l ciel veloce loro ammanna, già per urlare avrian le bocche aperte […]

(ll. 106–8)

But if those shameless ones knew what the swift heavens are preparing for them, they would already have opened their mouths to howl […]

By emphasizing that the women’s mouths would be open (l. 108), Dante reiterates the proper use of the tongue. He suggests that they would loudly confess their vain behaviour before the Lord. The

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

women’s howling represents the self-recrimination necessary to prevent damnation. It is, in effect, the desired response to the castigation of vice. Forese does not condemn the Florentine women for their eating habits, but for the misuse of their breasts.25 The direct denotation of the women’s breasts is not unmotivated in this context. Given the biological function of breasts, the reference reinforces the links between ingestion and language. Gary Cestaro studies Dante’s opinions about the acquisition of spoken language. Cestaro notes that, in the De vulgari eloquentia, Dante posits the vernacular as the ‘idiom of the wetnurse’ because, unlike Latin, the baby effortlessly learns it while nursing.26 The association of everyday speech with suckling was a centuries-old metaphor for language acquisition.27 A few tercets after the denunciation of the shameless Florentine women, Dante reiterates the notion of a child learning to speak by breastfeeding. Forese asserts that the divine punishment for the women’s behaviour is quickly approaching: ché, se l’antiveder qui non m’inganna, prima fien triste che le guance impeli colui che mo si consola con nanna

(ll. 109–11)

for, if my foreseeing does not deceive me, they will grieve before hair grows on the cheeks of one who now can be consoled with a lullaby.

Dante insists on the connection between rough speech – that acquired by the infant – and the condemnation of women’s misbehaviour. Hence, in Purgatorio, Dante does not abandon the ethical purpose of chastising female vice intrinsic to Rustico’s poetics. Rather, he appears to correct the particular sonnet, asserting instead that his former slander of Nella specifically was in error. At this point in the narrative, Forese inquires about Dante (ll. 112–14), and it is now the pilgrim’s turn to castigate himself. Dante’s language is highly dense, alluding to facts from his personal biography and artistic development. Much has already been said above about the difficulty of interpreting the period of ‘waywardness’ implied by the passage. However, Dante’s confession to Forese constitutes the most direct reference to their tenzone in the Commedia. He recalls their earlier activities, and the mere memory of them inspires remorse: Per ch’io a lui: ‘Se tu riduci a mente qual fosti meco, e qual io teco fui, ancor fia grave il memorar presente.[’]

(ll. 115–17)

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Therefore I to him: ‘If you call back to mind what you used to be with me, and I with you, the present memory will still be heavy.[’]

Dante states that Virgil caused him to change his life only days earlier (ll. 118–21). Dante refers to the tenzone with Forese in an expansive manner in this passage. He does not denote the sonnets themselves, nor the style to which they appertain, but only the biographical period during which he composed them. In the following canto, the poet ties together many of the threads established in Purgatorio XXIII. The twenty-fourth canto begins with the assertion that the conversation with Forese assists in traversing the terrace of gluttony: Né ’l dir l’andar, né l’andar lui più lento facea, ma ragionando andavam forte, sì come nave pinta da buon vento

(ll. 1–3)

Speech did not slow our walking, nor walking our speech, but we hastened on while speaking like a ship driven by a good wind […]

The lines suggest the beneficial effects of certain types of speech. The use of the tongue, possibly to castigate one’s own failings, can bring about purgative results. Dante then asks about the location of Forese’s sister Piccarda, and whether there are any other notable figures on the terrace of gluttony (ll. 10–12). In answer to the first question, Forese replies that Piccarda is in heaven, foreshadowing her appearance in the lunar sphere in Paradiso III:28 ‘La mia sorella, che tra bella e buona non so qual fosse più, trïunfa lieta ne l’alto Olimpo già di sua corona.’

(ll. 13–15)

‘My sister, of whose goodness and beauty I know not which was the greater, already triumphs joyous with her crown on high Olympus.’

By relegating the reference to Piccarda to the beginning of Purgatorio XXIV the poet transcends the borders of the individual cantos, encircling the dissolute Florentine females with two upstanding women, Forese’s wife and sister. The poet encloses Filippi’s poetics, the castigation of women’s vice, with two cases of laudatory language.

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

In response to Dante’s second request, Forese points out other individuals on the terrace: […] ‘Qui non si vieta di nominar ciascun, da ch’è sì munta nostra sembianza via per la dïeta.

(ll. 16–18)

[…] ‘Here it is not forbidden to name each one, since our appearance has been so milked dry by fasting.[’]

Although no other purgatorial terrace has a prohibition on identifying other individuals, Forese spells out that their changed appearance requires it here. Forese then extends a finger at the Lucchese poet: ‘“This” – and he pointed with his finger – “is Bonagiunta”’ (‘“Questi” – e mostrò col dito – “è Bonagiunta,”’ l. 19). As mentioned in the previous chapter, the expression of ‘pointing a finger at’ (‘mostrare col dito’) indicates public shaming. The argument between Mastro Adamo and Sinone ensued after a similar act. In Purgatory, however, being pointed out evokes no humiliation in the souls thus identified: Molti altri mi nomò ad uno ad uno; e del nomar parean tutti contenti, sì ch’io però non vidi un atto bruno

(ll. 25–7)

Many others, one by one, he named for me, and they seemed happy to be named, so that I did not see one dark look because of it.

Being singled out, either verbally or non-verbally, does not inspire wrath here. In Purgatorio XXIV, Dante acknowledges the potential for shame when pointing someone out, but stresses that such reactions do not occur. The pointing of fingers, moreover, does not constitute the only reference to jocose literature. Forese indicates Pope Martin IV with allusions to satiric verse: [‘…] e quella faccia di là da lui più che l’altre trapunta, ebbe la santa Chiesa in le sue braccia: dal Torso fu, e purga per digiuno l’anguille di Bolsena e la vernaccia.’

(ll. 20–4)

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[‘…] and that face beyond him, more pierced through than the others, had Holy Church in his embrace: he was from Tours, and by fasting he purges the eels of Bolsena and the vernaccia.’

The pope was reputedly involved in both types of gluttony, overeating and intoxication, and Dante enumerates both in the passage. The commentators on the Commedia asserted that Martin IV enjoyed feasting on eels drowned in wine. Dante’s son Pietro spelled out that satiric verses written in the voice of the surviving eels were placed upon Martin’s sepulchre: ‘Let the eels rejoice for here he lies dead who, like evil Death, tormented them’ (‘Gaudeant anguille / quia mortuus hic iacet ille / qui quasi morte reas / excoriabat eas’).29 The passage above also conforms to the observation that verbs such as ‘to pierce’ frequently connoted literary invective.30 Dante’s description of the pope’s face as ‘pierced’ (‘trapunta,’ l. 21) calls to mind the real-life slanders about him. Forese indicates several of the other gluttons, but Dante’s attention is drawn to Bonagiunta da Lucca. The conversation with the Lucchese poet is highly significant because the poet draws together the multiple associations of speech and gluttony. The pilgrim first turns to Bonagiunta because he overhears his mumbling: El mormorava; e non so che ‘Gentucca’ sentiv’ io là, ov’ el sentia la piaga de la giustizia che sì li pilucca

(ll. 37–9)

He was murmuring, and I heard something like ‘Gentucca’ there where he felt the wound of the Justice that so plucks them bare.

Again, speech plays a significant role in the episode. The poet does not clarify Bonagiunta’s mysterious murmuring, but he describes it in a suggestive manner. By describing Orbicciani’s mouth as a wound plucked by Justice (ll. 38–9), the poet recollects the Israelite Mary, who had plunged her beak into her son. In Bonagiunta’s case, Justice ‘plucks’ at him as if at a hostile raptor. Dante calls to mind, therefore, a negative exemplar of female behaviour while bringing up the topic of Gentucca. Scholarly theories differ as to her identity, whether she is a member of the Faitinelli family, Dante’s illegitimate daughter, another woman dear to Dante, or even an allegory of the Lucchese commoners.31 Orbicciani continues:

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati ‘Femmina è nata, e non porta ancora benda,’ cominciò el, ‘che ti farà piacere la mia città, come ch’om la riprenda.’

(ll. 43–5)

‘“A woman has been born, and she does not yet wear the wimple,” he began, “who will make my city pleasing to you, however people may reproach it.[”’]

There are negative connotations to Bonagiunta’s term ‘woman’ (‘femmina,’ l. 43).32 The poet uses the lexeme as an ironic foil for his praise of Gentucca. In contrast to the females who bring shame upon Florence, Gentucca’s actions reflect well upon Lucca. Together with Nella and Forese’s sister Piccarda, she rounds out a trinity of honourable women.33 Gentucca also closes the network of female lexicon initiated at the outset of canto XXIII. Importantly, Bonagiunta acknowledges the more frequent condemnation of Lucca: ‘however people may reproach it’ (‘ch’om la riprenda,’ l. 45; emphasis added). The purpose of satire is to chastise vice. Dante states outright that women’s conduct can inspire either praise or blame for their communities. Orbicciani excuses himself for his mumbling, explaining that if Dante misunderstands him events will reveal the truth to him (ll. 46–8). In an apparent non sequitur, Bonagiunta then asks if the man who stands before him is indeed the poet Dante Alighieri: ‘Ma dì s’i’ veggio qui colui che fòre trasse le nove rime, cominciando: ‘Donne ch’avete intelletto d’amore.’

(ll. 49–51)

‘But tell me if I see here the one who drew forth the new rhymes, beginning: “Ladies who have intellect of love.”’

The poet did not randomly select just any lyric for Bonagiunta. Dante cites that particular canzone to underscore the duality of praise and blame. In the prose of the Vita Nuova, Dante explains the genesis of the lyric. At a pivotal moment, certain women ask Dante where his bliss resides, now that Beatrice withholds her salutation of him (Barbi, par. 18; Gorni, chap. 6). Dante responds: ‘In those words which praise my lady’ (‘In quelle parole che lodano la donna mia’ (l. 6). Upon making this pronouncement, he then wonders why he had ever written any other kind of poetry: ‘Since there is so much bliss in words that praise my lady, why

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have I ever written any other way?’ (Barbi, l. 8; Gorni, l. 10). Immediately thereafter, he explains that his tongue moved almost on its own: Allora dico che la mia lingua parlò quasi come per sé stessa mossa, e disse: ‘Donne ch’avete intelletto d’amore.’ (Barbi, 19, 2; Gorni, 6, 13) Then, I must tell you, my tongue, as if moved of its own accord, spoke and said: ‘Ladies who have intelligence [or: intellect] of love.’

The canzone constitutes Dante’s first example of praise poetry in the Vita Nuova. Just as Dante partially cites the Psalm at the beginning of Purgatorio XXIII, so too Bonagiunta only recites the incipit of the canzone. In both instances, Dante subtly brings up songs of laudation. While at first blush it seems that Bonagiunta abruptly changes the subject, beneath the surface his conversation with the pilgrim remains constant. Bonagiunta has heard Dante and Forese reproving the shameless Florentine women; in response, he lauds Gentucca, and asks if Dante is also the poet who exalted Beatrice. The literary dichotomy of praise/blame provides consistency in a seemingly inconsistent discourse between the two poets. In a passage that has inspired much scholarship,34 Dante obliquely answers Bonagiunta’s question: E io a lui: ‘I’ mi son un che, quando Amor mi spira, noto, e a quel modo ch’e’ ditta dentro vo significando.’

(ll. 52–4)

And I to him: ‘I in myself am one who, when Love breathes within me, take note, and to that measure which he dictates within, I go signifying.’

Bonagiunta replies in an equally cryptic manner: ‘O frate, issa vegg’ io,’ diss’ elli, ‘il nodo che ’l Notaro e Guittone e me ritenne di qua dal dolce stil novo ch’i’ odo. Io veggio ben come le vostre penne di retro al dittator sen vanno strette, che de le nostre certo non avenne […’]

(ll. 55–60)

‘O my brother, now I see,’ said he, ‘the knot that held the Notary and Guittone and me back on this side of the sweet new style I hear.

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati I see well how your pens follow close behind him who dictates, which with ours certainly did not happen […’]

The three tercets are pregnant with meaning because, to a large degree, they constitute the point of arrival for the two cantos. Dante returns to the concept of knotting, this time directly associating it with poetic speech. However, when Bonagiunta contrasts his verse to Dante’s poetic liberty, the metaphor of the knot indicates a net or trap. Lino Pertile notes that the poet borrows lexicon from the art of falconry in this passage. To train a hawk, it was attached to a ring and allowed to fly along a cord; knots on the rope restricted its movement.35 Again, Dante associates knots with birds, thus reinforcing the connection to the tenzone with Forese. Critics have debated whether the dolce stil novo refers to a poetic school, an intertextuality between the poets, the hymns sung by the gluttons, Dante’s own lyrics, or the Commedia itself.36 An answer to the question is provided by Dante’s dialogue with Bonagiunta. Dante emphasizes his strict adherence to the dictates of love (ll. 53–4), a concept reiterated by Bonagiunta (‘le vostre penne […] sen vanno strette,’ ll. 58–9). The poet insists that his verse does not contain any excess, but communicates the absolutely necessary. By stressing that he followed Love closely, Dante asserts that he introduced no secondary meanings to his lyrics. This point corresponds to his hesitation to speak while marvelling, because secondary motives spoil the message. In ‘Donne ch’avete intelletto d’amore,’ Dante only wanted to praise Beatrice. His lyric lacked the ulterior motives that tainted the other authors’ verses. When he wrote, his only desire was to praise Beatrice, and not to exhort her, or anyone else, to take any actions. In Purgatorio XXIV, Dante removes his praise poetry from Brunetto Latini’s assertion that all literature, because of its hortatory intents, can be defined as tenzoni; exaltation has no hortatory purpose. Indeed, in the definition from La rettorica mentioned earlier, Brunetto does not include praise as a literary objective. In these cantos, Dante seemingly defines literary tenzoni as vituperative, probably thanks to his experience with Forese, because he contrasts them to the poetics of praise. Bonagiunta then completes his response to Dante: e qual più a gradire oltre si mette, non vede più da l’uno a l’altro stilo’; e quasi contentato si tacette.

(ll. 61–3)

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and whoever most sets himself to looking further will not see any other difference between one style and the other.’ And, as if satisfied, he fell silent.

It is not clear to which two styles Bonagiunta refers (l. 62). It may signify the distinction, just made, between his imperfect poetry and Dante’s praise of Beatrice. The gloss on this tercet written by the ‘anonimo fiorentino’ offers a different perspective on the question: Stilo, secondo la regola est modus loquendi secundum merita personarum, lo stile è il modo di parlare secondo i meriti delle persone.37 Style, according to the rule est modus loquendi secundum merita personarum, style is the manner of speaking according to the merits of the persons.

The anonymous Florentine commentator explains the verse by referring to the convenientia of tragic and comic literature. A writer should use the low and humble style when dealing with the lowborn, but the high and ornate style when dealing with kings, emperors, and aristocracy. From the ‘anonimo fiorentino’s’ perspective, Bonagiunta does not speak of two styles, his own and Dante’s dolce stil novo, but of comedy and tragedy. The question of style is important in Purgatorio XXIV because one of the defining characteristics of tragedy is its truthfulness thanks to its basis in historical events; comedy, conversely, could speak of ‘fictive things, which could have been’ (‘ficta res, quae tamen fieri potuit’).38 With Bonagiunta’s statement, the poet seems to challenge truthfulness as a distinction between comedy and tragedy. This notion may explain Bonagiunta’s earlier statement that events would clarify his mumbling. Authentic comedy and tragedy both tell the truth, but they do so with different intentions. And having made this observation, Bonagiunta falls silent as if sated (l. 63).39 The conversation between Forese and Dante comes to an end with Forese asking when they will see each other again (l. 76). Dante replies that he does not know the future duration of his life, and observes that Florence is stripping itself of goodness (ll. 77–81). Forese responds, blaming his own brother Corso, for the state of Florentine affairs: ‘Or va,’ diss’ el: ‘che quei che più n’ha colpa, vegg’ ïo a coda d’una bestia tratto inver’ la valle ove mai non si scolpa.

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati La bestia ad ogni passo va più ratto, crescendo sempre, fin ch’ella il percuote, e lascia il corpo vilmente disfatto[’]

(ll. 82–7)

‘Believe it,’ said he: ‘for the one most to blame in this I see dragged at the tail of a beast toward the valley where guilt is never forgiven. The beast goes faster with each step, ever growing, until it strikes him and leaves his corpse basely disfigured.[’]

Forese portrays his brother’s downfall, in which he is dragged to his death by his horse, who pulls him all the way to hell. Many commentators note the structural parallel of the three siblings – Corso, Forese, and Piccarda – placed in the three stations of the afterlife: hell, purgatory, and heaven. The discussion of Corso, therefore, draws together the three members of the Donati in Purgatorio, thereby symbolizing the end of the presence of Forese in the Comedy. Forese’s invective against his own vile brother reinforces the idea that truthful vituperium is licit. He continues by underscoring the veracity of his vision: [‘]Non hanno molto a volger quelle ruote’ – e drizzò li occhi al ciel – ‘che ti fia chiaro ciò che ’l mio dir più dichiarar non puote.[’]

(ll. 88–90)

[‘]Those wheels have not far to turn’ – and he raised his eyes to the sky – ‘before what my speech cannot further declare will become clear to you.[’]

As with Bonagiunta’s earlier assertion, future events will make things clear to Dante. Speech – whether laudatory or vituperative – must be based on the truth. To draw the terrace of gluttony to a close, both poets engage in castigation. Dante inveighs against Florence, while Forese reproves his brother Corso. That both of them reprehend others underscores the author’s continued adherence to the aims of satiric verse. Some scholars interpret these cantos as Dante’s rejection of the tenzone with Forese. A recurrent term throughout much of the scholarship on the two cantos is ‘palinode.’ Yet it is important to make a subtle distinction when speaking of ‘palinode’ in this episode. It is true that Dante takes the opportunity in Purgatorio to correct misstatements made in the tenzone with Donati, particularly his slander against Forese’s wife. But he does not repudiate the poetics of improperium in these cantos.40 He provides

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numerous examples of castigation on the terrace of gluttony, and indeed he continues to do so through to the end of the Commedia. Had he rejected invective, then the Comedy itself, with its dual moral purpose of praising the virtuous while blaming the wicked, would have been impossible. The palinode of the terrace of gluttony appears limited to the falsehoods Dante and Forese had written; the ugly truth they had presented, however, is allowed to stand. In conclusion, the poet casts his in-law to serve an important function within the economy of the text. Throughout Purgatorio XXIII and XXIV, three authors accompany the pilgrim: Virgil, Statius, and Forese.41 Perhaps in Purgatorio Forese personifies a specific form of writing, the poetry of reprehension.

5

Citations and Interpretations: The Literary Memory of the Sonnets in Boccaccio and Others

Dante has always been influential, and even his interaction with Forese Donati had an impact on other writers. To be sure, the sonnets of the tenzone with Forese do not number among Dante’s most famous lyric poems. As a point in contrast, Dante’s stilnovistic verse was read across a broad geographical area in the early fourteenth century, when Tuscan literature influenced the culture of Northeast Italy.1 Authors such as Giovanni Quirini of Venice and Nicolò de’ Rossi of Treviso borrowed topoi and language from Dante’s spiritualized love poetry.2 The imitators of the tenzone between Dante and Forese are, conversely, few in number, and at times their references to it are fleeting. But the other writers’ references to the tenzone provide assistance for the interpretation of the six sonnets; they give clues as to how people in the Middle Ages understood the insulting correspondence. And when an author like Giovanni Boccaccio refers to a text three times, his citations deserve close examination. Furthermore, the intertextualities provide evidence regarding the sonnets’ reception during the Trecento. Of the eleven source manuscripts of the tenzone only one, Trivulziano 1058, was compiled anywhere other than Florence (see the appendix for complete information about the manuscripts). Trivulziano 1058 is the exception that proves the rule. The codicological evidence suggests that Dante’s correspondence with Forese remained confined primarily to Florence for many decades. Of course, the extant manuscript information is imperfect because other codices undoubtedly did not survive. But the writers who cited the tenzone corroborate that it was primarily a Florentine phenomenon; all the known imitators of it were also Florentines. Taken together, the

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picture emerges that Dante’s tenzone with Forese Donati probably did not circulate widely beyond the literary circles of Florence during the fourteenth century. Not much is known about Pieraccio Tedaldi (ca. 1285/90–ca. 1350). The son of Bernardo Tedaldi, he was born into a noble Florentine family. In addition to his poetic career, Pieraccio performed military services for the city. In 1315, Pieraccio participated with the Florentine contingent in the battle of Montecatini. He also served as the castellan of the Florentine fortress at Montopoli.3 He resided for some time in Faenza and in Lucca, and one manuscript rubric indicates that he suffered a twenty-five year political exile.4 Pieraccio composed some fortyone extant sonnets, which deal with a broad range of topics including misogyny, the promotion of morality, and contemptus mundi.5 He also writes of personal issues such as blindness and banishment.6 Pieraccio excels at the comic trope of the complaint against poverty,7 and in one such sonnet, Tedaldi writes: E’ piccioli fiorin d’argento e d’oro sommariamente m’hanno abbandonato, e ciaschedun da me s’è allontanato più che non è Fucecchio da Pianoro; ond’io pensoso più m’addoloro, che quel che giace in su’ letto ammalato: però che ’n cassa, in mano, in borsa o allato non vuol con meco nessun far dimoro. Ed io n’ho spesso vie maggior bisogno, più che non ha il tignoso del cappello; e giorno e notte gli disìo e sogno; e nessun vuole stare al mio ostello; e poco vienmi a dire s’io gli agogno, ché ciaschedun da me si fa ribello. The small florins of silver and of gold have summarily abandoned me, and each one his put between itself and me a distance greater than that of Fucecchio from Pianoro. Hence, I, pensive, am in greater pain than the man who lies ill in his own bed; for, whether in the cashbox, in hand, in the purse, or at my side, none of them wishes to reside with me.

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

And I often have a greater need of them than the man with ringworm needs a hat; and day and night I yearn and dream of them. But none of them wishes to stay in my hostel, and few come to speak with me if I struggle for them, because all of them have rebelled against me.8

Pieraccio employs a number of literary techniques to communicate his overall message. Although Pieraccio was a member of the aristocracy, in his poem he casts himself as impoverished by representing his coins as if in political rebellion from him. They have rejected him (ll. 1–2), travel great distances to avoid him (ll. 3–4), and now revolt against him (l. 14). The poet also draws ignominious comparisons of himself, first to a bedridden man (ll. 5–6), and then to a ringworm sufferer (l. 10). In short, he denigrates himself in the eyes of his readers. He goes so far as to describe his habitation as a hostel (l. 12), a term frequently used synonymously with that of the inn.9 In a single word, he calls to mind the literary ideology of the tavern and all that it implied. Pieraccio suggests that his own misdeeds may have played a role in causing his economic hardships. He crafts a negative poetic persona in order to satirize the social impact of commerce. In contemporary times, a penurious nobleman is disdained by everyone and everything, even by his own finances. In addition to the general comic characteristics of the sonnet, Pieraccio’s poem recalls Dante’s last sonnet of the tenzone with Forese. Dante’s lyric contains a line that reads: ‘E tal giace per lui nel letto tristo’ (‘And there’s one who lies in bed distraught’) (l. 9). Pieraccio’s sixth line follows a parallel syntax to Dante’s: ‘che quel che giace in su’ letto ammalato’ (‘than the man who lies ill in his own bed’). Furthermore, Pieraccio’s phrasing of the subsequent line of poetry resembles another line from the same sonnet. Dante describes people fearful of Forese as they clutch their purses: ‘chi ha borsa a.llato, là dov’e’ s’appressa’ (‘And already people who carry purses [keep clear of him] when he draws near)’ (l. 6). Pieraccio describes the absence of his coins: ‘però che ’n cassa, in mano, in borsa o allato,’ (‘for, whether in the cashbox, in hand, in the purse, or at my side)’ (l. 7). Taken together, these traits suggest that Dante’s poem is the subtext for Pieraccio’s work. In his sonnet Dante writes about the tainted blood of the noble Donati family, whose ill-gotten gains now induce them towards petty thievery and ignoble activities. Pieraccio places in sharp relief the loss of nobility in contemporary society. The intertextuality with Dante underscores Pieraccio’s outrage about the changes brought by the market economy.

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While Pieraccio subtly evokes the language of the tenzone between Dante and Forese, the poet Deo Boni cites it outright. Almost nothing is known about Deo Boni except that his name appears as one of the council members of the Florentine commune for the year 1346.10 Deo engaged in several tenzoni with the Florentine author Tommaso di Giunta; the correspondences between the two writers, however, do not all come down to us in fully integral forms.11 Deo opens one such tenzone by apparently addressing Tommaso’s wife Vannetta: Deo Boni a Tommaso di Giunta Alla mie cara et compagna Vannetta, mille salute da parte di Pino. E.sse non fusse che ’l lungo cammino di vederti non par che ’l mi permetta, i’ m’avare’ teco piena la bonetta più e più volte con un poponcino: però ti mando questo piccolino, che.ttu.tte ne conforti a.ffetta a.ffetta. E se ti cambiassi l’apetito Per la salvatichezza del guaime, u.mmigliaccetto che.ssie ben condito ti faccia far Tommaso di due cime del suo pescuccio, che n’è ben fornito, e recheratti nelle forze prime: e [’n] più chiara faccia di cristallo tu n’andrai tutto verno sanza fallo. From Deo Boni to Tommaso di Giunta To my dear and friendly Vannetta, Pino sends you a thousand greetings. and if it were not that the long road seems not to permit me to see you I would have already filled my saddlebag for you [literally: with you] many and many times with a small melon; however, I send you this little one so that, slice by slice, you can take comfort. And if your appetite changed due to the wildness of the young herbs, have Tommaso make for you a well-seasoned pudding

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

with two tops from his peach tree, which is well furnished and it will give you back your former strength; and with a face as clear as crystal you will go about all winter without any difficulty.

Linda Pagnotta suggests that Deo’s sonnet is what it seems to be: an occasional poem that accompanied the gift of a melon.12 Yet in his response, ‘Tanto mi piace e tanto mi diletta’ (‘So much it pleases me, so much it delights me’), Tommaso claims to send Deo a small mouse in return (‘di questo picciol topo ti convito’) (l. 13).13 Tommaso’s hostility suggests that Deo’s initial sonnet may be less friendly than it first appears. Two expressions imply that Deo intended the fruit to be an insulting gesture. First, Deo indicates the woman’s active participation in stuffing the melon into the saddlebag (‘teco’: ‘for you,’ literally ‘with you,’ l. 5). He then states that he would have inserted the fruit into the sack not once but many times (‘più e più volte,’ l. 6). The melon clearly has a double meaning. Very likely, the fruit is a metaphor for a penis, and the saddlebag symbolizes Vanetta’s vagina. The Dizionario storico del lessico erotico italiano, a lexicon of sexual vocabulary, attests that melon (‘popone’) referred to the phallus, although the earliest documentation of that connotation is from the fifteenth century.14 Throughout the sonnet, the poet’s other references to foods may similarly constitute double entendres. The assertion of the closing verses, that Vannetta will soon find her health restored, may allude to the physical sciences of the Middle Ages; it was understood that a woman’s uterus, if denied sex, would become medically troublesome.15 Once he satisfies her in bed, Deo implies, her humours will be rebalanced and her complexion will return to normal (ll. 15–16). Importantly, Deo borrows a turn of phrase directly from one of the sonnets of the tenzone. In his last contribution to the poetic exchange, Forese Donati derides Dante’s inability to carry out a vendetta for the sake of the family’s honour. He claims that Dante’s saddlebag is full: ‘ma tu ha’ poi sì piena la bonetta’ (‘but then you had your sack [literally: saddlebag] so full,’ l. 7). Deo, in contrast, speaks of a saddlebag filled up by a melon: ‘i’ m’avare’ teco piena la bonetta’ (‘I would have already filled my saddlebag for you [literally: with you],’ l. 5). The phrasing of Deo’s verse follows Forese’s too closely to be coincidental. In addition, Deo retains ‘bonetta’ in the rhyming position of the verse, transforming Donati’s B-rhyme into an A-rhyme. It is not clear why Boni might make reference to a sonnet about a failed vendetta in his own poem. Accusations of marital infidelity appear in the verses of the tenzone

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between Forese and Dante, but not in the specific composition cited by Deo. The poet may simply capitalize on the overtones of female sexual misbehaviour found throughout the correspondence. While the examples provided by Pieraccio Tedaldi and Deo Boni testify to the literary impact of the tenzone in the Florentine Trecento, they are overshadowed by a far greater author. For decades, scholarship has recognized that Giovanni Boccaccio (ca. 1313–75) repeatedly quoted the correspondence between Dante and Forese in his works.16 Boccaccio cites the lines of the exchange in three instances, twice in the Decameron (IV.10 and VII.8) and once in the Corbaccio.17 The author completed the Decameron within a few years after having witnessed firsthand the plague of 1348 in Florence.18 The date of the composition of the Corbaccio, however, is debated. Some scholars see it as a companion piece to the Decameron, and subsequently they date it to the first half of the 1350s; others take at face value the author’s assertion that he composed it in his declining years, so they date it to the early 1360s.19 Like the previously discussed poets, Boccaccio wrote his earliest reminiscences of Dante’s tenzone with Forese while in Florence or afterwards. Boccaccio borrows only from Dante’s contributions to the tenzone, and not at all from Forese’s. Critics have recognized for some time that Boccaccio studs his works with citations of the poetry of Dante.20 From the narrative poem of the Filostrato, to the proto-novel of the Elegia di Madonna Fiammetta, to the Decameron,21 to mention only a few cases, Boccaccio frequently demonstrates his indebtedness to Dante. Boccaccio borrows liberally from Alighieri’s Vita Nuova and Commedia.22 The fact that Boccaccio quotes from Dante does not necessarily imply that he shares the same moral intentions as Alighieri; frequently, he parodies Dante’s statements by quoting them in the context of a scabrous narrative.23 Since Boccaccio cites Dante for his own purposes, the discussion below will concentrate on understanding his echoes of the tenzone in their particular narratological contexts. Consequently, it will be necessary to perform close readings of the three narratives in question, foregrounding their relationships to the tenzone. In Decameron IV.10, the narrator, Dioneo, tells of the young wife of an elderly medical doctor, Mazzeo della Montagna. The unnamed woman, whose husband ignores her sexually, takes a lover, Ruggieri d’Aieroli. When her husband is called away, she brings Ruggieri into her house, and he, needing to wait, inadvertently drinks the doctor’s opiate suspension. When the woman returns, she cannot rouse him and believes him to be dead. She calls out to her servant for assistance. The servant

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Dante’s Tenzone with Forese Donati

claims to have seen a large chest outside the carpenter’s house. She suggests putting Ruggieri’s body in it so that the people of the city will think that criminals murdered him. Thus, the suspicion for Ruggieri’s death will not fall on Mazzeo’s wife, and her adulterous intentions will not be exposed. After the servant places Ruggieri in the chest, some newly arrived usurers steal it. Several hours later, Ruggieri awakens, and he makes a loud racket as he exits the chest. The family of the moneylenders thinks he is a thief; they call for assistance, Ruggieri is arrested for burglary, and eventually he faces execution at the hands of the magistrate. In the meantime, Mazzeo returns home, and he becomes enraged when he discovers that the opiate suspension is missing. Mazzeo’s wife realizes that Ruggieri drank the potion on the night of their planned tryst. When the servant learns of Ruggieri’s misfortunes, she informs Mazzeo’s wife of the situation, and together they develop a plan. The servant implores Mazzeo to intervene on Ruggieri’s behalf. She tells the doctor that she had brought Ruggieri into the household. Fearing that an innocent man could be put to death, he allows her to go before the magistrate to secure Ruggieri’s release. Again, she identifies herself as Ruggieri’s lover. After questioning the carpenter and the doctor, the magistrate becomes convinced of Ruggieri’s innocence. The magistrate frees him and fines the moneylenders for stealing the carpenter’s chest. From this point on, Dioneo concludes, Ruggieri and Mazzeo’s wife can satisfy their passion together. Boccaccio constructs the tale around numerous topoi from medieval comedies. Mazzeo della Montagna is old but he takes a young and beautiful wife (l. 4), a trope of comic writings.24 In keeping with the stereotype of the marriage of an elderly husband to a young wife, Mazzeo leaves her so sexually frustrated that she lives discontented and selects her lover, Ruggieri, almost at random (l. 6). Additionally, Mazzeo, while educated, works as a medical doctor. To judge from Petrarch’s Invectiva contra medicum, many people viewed medicine as a type of physical labour inferior to intellectual pursuits.25 Conversely, little is known about Mazzeo’s wife, not even her name, so the narrator frequently refers to her as ‘lady’ (‘donna’),26 indicating her noble origins (l. 4). Thus, the marriage may be composed of members of two distinct social classes, with the wife outranking the husband. Towards the outset of the story, the narrator describes the wife’s desperate situation. Mazzeo gives her everything that a young wife could possibly want, save one:

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[…] di nobili vestimenti e ricchi e d’altre gioie e tutto ciò che a una donna può piacere meglio che altra della città teneva fornita; vero è che ella il più del tempo stava infreddata, sì come colei che nel letto era male dal maestro tenuta coperta. (l. 4) […] and he saw to it that she had the most elegant and expensive clothing, the most precious jewels – more than any other lady in that city – and everything else that a woman might desire; but the truth is that most of the time she suffered from a chill, for the doctor did not cover her sufficiently in bed.

That Mazzeo’s wife is cold and poorly covered at night unmistakably refers to her sexual frustrations. Mazzeo has sex with her only infrequently: […] così costui a costei mostrava che il giacere con una donna una volta si penava a ristorar non so quanti dì, e simili ciance; di che ella viveva pessimamente contenta. (l. 5) […] so, too, did Doctor Mazzeo point out to his wife that sleeping with a woman one time required who knows how many days to recover, and other similar nonsense; as a result, she lived in the depths of discontent.

The blame for her infidelity falls squarely on Mazzeo himself. Rather than satisfying her in bed, thus preventing the humourological imbalances caused by abstinence, he deliberately reduces his contact with her. As already discussed in chapter 2, in his first sonnet addressed to Forese, Dante writes that the hapless Nella, like Mazzeo’s wife, feels frosty even in the summertime: Di mezzo agosto la truovi infreddata; or sappi che de’ far d’ogn’altro mese! E no.lle val perché dorma calzata, merzé del copertoio c’ha cortonese.

(ll. 5–8)

You’ll find her frozen in mid-August – so guess how she must fare in any other month! And it’s no use her keeping her stockings on – the bedclothes are too short [literally: from Cortona] …

According to the Opera del Vocabolario Italiano, a database of over 1,800 vernacular texts, the only precedent for Boccaccio’s tale is Dante’s

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sonnet.27 Like Dante, Boccaccio speaks of the woman’s freezing state (‘infreddata’) and the blame for it as lying with her coverings (‘coperta,’ ‘copertoio’). In the sonnet, Nella literally feels cold and suffers from a hacking cough. Dante actually says nothing about Forese’s failure in the bedroom, but only mentions the coverlets’ origins in Cortona. In contrast, Boccaccio explains that her coldness indicates sexual frustration because Mazzeo poorly covers her at night. Dante’s sonnet is not, however, the only literary precursor to the tale. When the servant beseeches Mazzeo to save Ruggieri, she takes the blame for bringing him into the household. Upon hearing her story, Mazzeo looks mercifully upon her malfeasance, proclaiming that she does not warrant further punishment. He states: ‘Tu te n’hai data la perdonanza tu stessa, per ciò che, dove credesti questa notte un giovane avere che molto bene il pillicion ti scotesse, avesti un dormiglione […]’ (l. 46) ‘You already have the pardon you deserve: for you thought you were going to have a young man who would warm your wool for you last night, but all you got was a sleepyhead.’

According to Vittore Branca, Boccaccio employs the phrase ‘to warm your wool’ (‘scotere il pillicion’)28 in two other instances in the Decameron (VIII.7.103; and X.10.69).29 The narrative under discussion contains the first use of the expression within the collection. Yet the term ‘pillicione’ (‘wool,’ or ‘pelt’) also appears in Rustico Filippi’s sonnet ‘Io fo ben boto a Dio: se Ghigo fosse.’ The Dizionario storico del lessico erotico italiano lists Filippi’s sonnet as the only recorded use of the term ‘pillicione’ in a sexual manner prior to Boccaccio.30 Rustico’s poem also constitutes the basis for Dante’s slander of Nella, although Dante exchanged the article of clothing for a bed covering (‘copertoio’):31 per pillicion di quella c’ha le fosse, non si riscalderia, tant’è gelato. Non vedi che di mezzo luglio tosse e ’l guarnel tien di sotto foderato? even with the pelt of she who has the cracks, he wouldn’t be heated, so cold is he. Don’t you see that he coughs in mid-July, and he keeps his mantle stuffed in his lapel?

(ll. 2–5; emphasis added)

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Boccaccio did not accidentally use Filippi’s lexeme in the same story in which he cites Dante’s sonnet. Like Dante, Rustico portrayed the sexually frustrated spouse as cold, even during the hot months of summer. But Rustico made no mention of Cerbiolin being poorly covered at night, an element found both in Dante’s lyric and in Boccaccio’s tale. Furthermore Dante, like Boccaccio, describes a woman as sick and cold, and not a man. Instead, the term ‘pillicion’ implies that Boccaccio knew of the intertextuality between Dante and Rustico and capitalized on it. The allusion to Filippi reflects more than a chain of influence stretching back to the Duecento. In the tale, the author indicates the ethical justification for satires as the reprehension of vice. While of noble birth, Ruggieri led an evil life, to the point that none of his relatives recognize him any longer; he bears the bad reputation of a thief (l. 7). But after Mazzeo’s wife begins her affair with him, she attempts to change him by castigating him (‘biasimare,’ l. 8). With a word, Boccaccio calls to mind the literature of reprehension, but he immediately parodies its efficacy; she needs to bribe Ruggieri to prevent him from stealing (l. 8). In his sonnet, Dante co-opted Rustico’s literary intentions of the vituperation of women. Boccaccio, however, appears far more forgiving of women’s sexuality in his story. Mazzeo’s wife never receives any comeuppance for her infidelity, and the narrator generally smiles upon her illicit activities. Perhaps for that reason, the narrator calls into question the efficacy of reprehension; throughout the entire tale, the only woman to be chastised, albeit mildly, was the servant, who was in fact innocent of any sexual misconduct. Through his use of literary citations, Boccaccio highlights cultural discussion of the ethical dimension to comedy. But Boccaccio undercuts the usefulness of injurious literature to change other people’s behaviour. Instead, the actual adulterous wife gets off scot free, and the cuckolded husband remains none the wiser. Before moving on, the influence of Boccaccio’s tale warrants comment. Niccolò Machiavelli (1469–1527) borrowed a turn of phrase from Decameron IV.10 in his satiric play Mandragola (The Mandrake Root) (ca. 1518).32 Set in Florence in 1504, the play is about Callimaco, who falls in love with Lucrezia, the young wife of the elderly Messer Nicia. The young woman is renowned for her virtue, yet Callimaco desperately yearns to have sex with her. The parasite Ligurio develops a plan for Callimaco. Since Lucrezia and Nicia desire to have a son, Callimaco poses as a medical doctor, and he examines Lucrezia’s urine. He then diagnoses the nature of her sterility and prescribes a draught made from the mandrake root. The one drawback, he falsely informs Nicia, is that the first man to have sex with Lucrezia afterwards will be fatally

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poisoned. Ligurio and Callimaco convince Nicia that they should form a gang that night, randomly kidnap a man, force him to sleep with Lucrezia, and then abandon him to his fate; on the night in question, Callimaco disguises himself as a troubadour, waits on the street, and Ligurio leads Nicia’s party to him. During their night together Callimaco reveals everything to Lucrezia. She concludes that since he has gone to such great lengths to be with her, it must be God’s will that she become Callimaco’s paramour. The play ends with her persuading Nicia to allow Callimaco to come to their home as he pleases. Scholarship is divided as to the interpretation of the play. Many critics recognize that Machiavelli bases himself on classical literature, including the works of Terence and Thucydides.33 He also borrows from Boccaccio, particularly from tales VIII.3, III.6, II.9, and VII.9 of the Decameron.34 Gay Bardin argues that the ideology of the play is also derived from Boccaccio’s misogynist work, the Corbaccio.35 During the scene in which Callimaco examines Lucrezia’s urine (II.6), Machiavelli further acknowledges his indebtedness to Boccaccio. While pretending to be a physician, Callimaco offers a backhanded slur with regard to Nicia’s sexual impotence: callimaco: Io ho paura che costei non sia la notte mal coperta, e per questo fa l’orina cruda. callimaco: I am afraid that your wife is not well covered at night, and that’s why her urine is cloudy.

The witless Nicia misses the sexual connotations of Callimaco’s statement and merely responds to its overt meaning: nicia: Ella tien pure adosso un buon coltrone; ma la sta quattro ore ginocchioni ad infilzar paternostri, innanzi che la se ne venghi al letto, ed è una bestia a patir freddo. nicia: She usually wears a long nightgown, but before she comes to bed she’s like an animal out in the cold – four hours on her knees muttering ‘Our fathers.’

Machiavelli’s language follows closely that of Decameron IV.10. Machiavelli shows none of the distinguishing characteristics of Dante’s calumnious sonnet. Callimaco, like Dioneo, speaks of the

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woman’s freezing condition as due to being poorly covered at night; Dante, in contrast, blames Nella’s coldness on her blankets from Cortona (l. 8). Machiavelli most likely borrowed the expression directly from Boccaccio, and probably not from Dante’s tenzone with Forese. Nonetheless, Dante’s poem had an effect on Machiavelli’s play in a roundabout manner. Boccaccio’s second quotation of the tenzone between Dante and Forese appears in the eighth tale of Day 7. Under the leadership of Dioneo, the tales of the seventh day revolve around the theme of the pranks that wives play on their husbands. Pier Massimo Forni notes that Juvenal’s misogynistic sixth satire underlies many of its stories.36 Forni’s observation is relevant to the story at hand. It is about the Florentine merchant Arriguccio Berlinghieri, who marries the noblewoman Sismonda. Arriguccio becomes terribly jealous, watching her constantly. Sismonda, however, devises a plan so that she can meet her lover, Ruberto. Before retiring for the night, she will tie a string to her big toe and toss the other end out the window and down into the street below. When Ruberto arrives, he should tug on the string. If Arriguccio is asleep, she will untie it and come down to greet him. If, on the other hand, Arriguccio is still awake, she will draw the string up to herself, and Ruberto will return home. The device works as planned until Arriguccio notices the string one night. Suspecting some type of deception, he cuts it off Sismonda’s toe and ties it to his own. When Ruberto pulls on the string, he accidentally undoes the knot; he remains on the street, expecting Sismonda. Arriguccio, however, springs out of bed and runs down to challenge him. He chases Ruberto through the streets, and eventually they begin duelling, rousing all the neighbours in the area. Aware that her situation has turned dangerous, Sismonda begs a young servant to take her place in the bed, promising her lucrative compensation for her pains. She then extinguishes all the lights. Arriguccio returns and, believing the servant to be his faithless wife, beats her mercilessly in the dark. He cuts off her hair, and then departs to inform her brothers of her deviousness. During Arriguccio’s absence, Sismonda consoles the servant, and then dresses herself to give the appearance that she had spent the night awaiting him. When Arriguccio comes back with Sismonda’s brothers and mother in tow, she is sitting up casually, sewing. Her family sees no signs that Arriguccio has battered her; indeed, she even has all her hair. She then provides a false explanation: Arriguccio takes to the taverns, and he, inebriated, probably did beat a mistress. Sismonda’s relatives depart but first they warn

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Arriguccio never again to cast aspersions on their sister. From this point on, the narrator concludes, Sismonda and Ruberto can enjoy their passion in peace. As in the previous narrative, the tale of Sismonda contains elements drawn from comic literature. When attempting to exculpate herself, Sismonda misleadingly portrays Arriguccio as a tavern-going drunkard who also carouses with dissolute women, calling to mind the medieval literary commonplace of the pub. In addition, the author also structures his narrative around a noble wife married to a man of a socially inferior class. The narrator describes Arriguccio according to the negative stereotype of the merchants: […] nella nostra città fu già un ricchissimo mercatante chiamato Arriguccio Berlighieri, il quale scioccamente, sì come ancora oggi fanno tutto ’l dì i mercatanti, pensò di volere ingentilire per moglie; e prese una giovane gentil donna male a lui convenientesi, il cui nome fu monna Sismonda. (l. 4) […] in our city there once lived a very wealthy merchant named Arriguccio Berlinghieri, who quite foolishly, and as we still see merchants doing today, thought that he could ennoble himself by marrying into an aristocratic family, and he chose a young noblewoman very badly suited to him, whose name was Monna Sismonda.

The class differences between Arriguccio and Sismonda are central to the narrative. While Boccaccio frequently looked favourably upon the traders in his magnum opus, he was also immersed in the ideology of the superiority of the nobility.37 The culture was riddled with social and cultural contradictions; the ideal was chivalric and aristocratic, while the age itself was not.38 Boccaccio bases his tale in part on the glorification of the nobility and the disparagement of the merchants prevalent in the culture of the age. The author exploits the figure of Arriguccio as a trader in order to set in motion the events of the story. Boccaccio evokes Dante’s tenzone with Forese as part of the satire of the merchants. After Sismonda falsely demonstrates her innocence to her family, her mother berates her brothers for having listened to the low-born Arriguccio: Col malanno possa egli essere oggimai, se tu dei stare al fracidume delle parole d’un mercatantuzzo di feccia d’asino, che venutici di contado e

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usciti delle troiate vestiti di romagnuolo, con le calze a campanile e colla penna in culo, come egli hanno tre soldi, vogliono le figliuole de’ gentili uomini e delle buone donne per moglie, e fanno arme e dicono: ‘I’ son de’ cotali’ e ‘Quei di casa mia fecer così.’ Ben vorrei che ’ miei figliuoli n’avesser seguito il mio consiglio, che ti potevano così orrevolmente acconciare in casa i conti Guidi con un pezzo di pane, e essi vollon pur darti a questa bella gioia […] (ll. 46–7; emphasis added) He can go to Hell before you’ll put up with the rotten slander of an insignificant little trader in donkey dung, one of those yokels from the country, right out of some pigsty, who dress in shabby clothes, with their short baggy stockings and their quill pens sticking out of their asses. As soon as they’ve gotten a few cents in their pockets they want the daughters of noblemen and worthy ladies for their wives, and they make up a coat of arms, and then they claim: ‘I’m one of the so-and-so family’ or ‘The people in my family do such-and-such.’ I really wish my sons had followed my advice, for they could just as honourably have found you a home with one of the Counts of Guidi with no more than a piece of bread for a dowry, but they preferred to give you away to this fine jewel of a fellow […] (emphasis added)

As was typical for the time, Sismonda’s mother conflates slander of the peasantry with that of the urban merchants, proclaiming that the latter have only recently arrived from the farm. She also derides them for their pretensions, as they purchase coats of arms and wear ill-fitting clothing. Sismonda’s mother echoes the first sonnet addressed to Forese. The poet apostrophized Nella’s mother, who wails upon seeing her daughter ignored by her son-in-law: Piange la madre c’ha più d’una doglia, dicendo: ‘Lassa, che per fichi secchi messa l’avre’ in casa il conte Guido.’

(ll. 12–14; emphasis added)

Her mother, who has more than one affliction, weeps, saying: ‘Alas, for dried figs I could have married her to Count Guido!’ (emphasis added)

In this case, too, the Opera del Vocabolario Italiano lists Dante’s sonnet as the sole precursor to Boccaccio’s story.39 Boccaccio invokes the same poem as the one alluded to in IV.10. In the earlier story, the author referred generally to the poem, borrowing the notion of coldness at night.

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Here, though, Boccaccio employs Dante’s precise turn of phrase, adapting it only slightly. He changes the description of the dowry from dried figs to a piece of bread. But he retains the statement as the direct discourse of the mother-in-law complaining about the husband’s mistreatment of the wife. In Decameron VII.8, Boccaccio unquestionably bases his own work on Dante’s sonnet. The reference to the Counts Guidi in Dante’s poem may have been derived from the political events of the last decades of the thirteenth century. Nella, Dante indicated, had connections to the Ghibilline Counts Guidi, implying that political differences between her and Forese led him to abandon his marriage bed. Boccaccio’s purposes, conversely, are not so much political as social. By the middle of the fourteenth century, the Counts Guidi still held lands in rural Tuscany. However, due to the continued political pressures of the Communes,40 their power had faded and their economic situation had deteriorated.41 Given the historical background to the Decameron, Sismonda’s mother stresses that Sismonda would have been better off marrying another aristocrat, even an impoverished one, than a wealthy merchant. Her statement – and by extension, the entire tale – reflects the cultural contradictions of the age regarding the moral superiority of the nobility. Thus, the evocation of Dante’s poem advances the agenda of the antimercantile vilification in the narrative. The author capitalizes on the stereotypes of the merchants strewn throughout the tenzone between Dante and Forese. Boccaccio’s interpretation, in other words, adds weight to the reading of the tenzone as a socio-political document. Importantly, the reference to Dante’s tenzone with Forese does not represent the only citation of the great poet’s works in the tale. When Sismonda’s brothers burst in with Arriguccio, she feigns bewilderment, asking: ‘Oimè, marito mio, che è quel ch’i’ odo?’

(l. 34; emphasis added)

‘Oh, husband, what is this I hear?’

Vittore Branca considers the question to be the perfect imitation of a line from Inferno III (III.32).42 However, the pilgrim poses precisely the same question at two different times in the Comedy. The second instance of Dante’s posing of the question is probably the one Boccaccio refers to in the tale. Just moments before encountering Forese’s soul on the terrace of gluttony, the pilgrim hears singing:

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‘O dolce padre, che è quel ch’i’ odo?’ comincia’ io; ed elli: ‘Ombre che vanno forse di lor dover solvendo il nodo.’ (Purgatorio XXIII.13–15; emphasis added) ‘Oh sweet father, what is that I hear?’ I began; and he: ‘Shades who perhaps go untying the knot of their debt.’ (emphasis added)

Pier Massimo Forni identifies one of Boccaccio’s artistic processes as that of ‘actualization’; the writer takes a metaphorical turn of phrase and treats it as literal, transforming an abstract expression into a concrete event.43 Forni’s observation appears particularly apt for the story under consideration. Sismonda has been untying knots – literally – to meet Ruberto. While Dante means the undoing of the knot of vice, Boccaccio reworks the verse to express the actual device by which Sismonda arranges to set up a sexual encounter with her lover. The author once again echoes Alighieri while putting ironic distance between them. However, Boccaccio makes reference to the purgatorial expression only obliquely. He leaves it up to the reader to recognize the association with the entirety of Dante’s tercet. Given the overall topic of this study, Boccaccio’s utilization and understanding of the tenzone has been the subject of primary importance. The objective has been to clarify why Boccaccio alludes to it in the particular narrative contexts. But to arrive at the proper interpretation of Sismonda’s tale, the focus of the present chapter may be emphasizing the wrong element. The primary intertextual concern for Boccaccio may not be the relationship of the story to the tenzone, but to Purgatorio XXIII. The latter reference has a central place in the story of Arriguccio. Boccaccio elicits a new interpretation of Dante’s tercet from Purgatorio in the context of a wife’s unpunished infidelity. The memory of the tenzone between Dante and Forese may actually serve a secondary function in Boccaccio’s story. The reminiscence of Dante’s sonnet underscores the correct intertextual reading of Sismonda’s question. By calling to mind Forese Donati a second time, the allusion to Dante’s sonnet strengthens the overtones of Purgatorio in Sismonda’s utterance. It directs the readers to the proper tercet from the Comedy as the story’s subtext. Boccaccio’s third echo of the poetry of the tenzone between Dante and Forese occurs in the prose invective Corbaccio. In the Corbaccio, the author satirizes love, promoting a view of passion as sinful lust and of

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women as self-serving deceivers. But the Corbaccio is a complex, multilayered text that cannot be reduced to a single interpretation, and scholarship is currently debating its position within Boccaccio’s literary production. Early in the twentieth century critics interpreted the work biographically, believing it to be the expression of genuine hostility towards women after a young lady had spurned the author.44 Other scholars consider the Corbaccio to be the symptom of a moral crisis in Boccaccio’s advanced age, as he embraced the spiritual values of Christianity.45 In contrast, recent scholarship emphasizes the work’s satiric nature.46 Boccaccio may not necessarily attack all types of love, but merely the abandonment of reason to lust.47 Lending credence to this perspective, Boccaccio introduces citations from numerous classical works, including Juvenal’s sixth satire, the plays of Theophrastis and Secundus, and Saint Jerome’s Adversus Jovinianum. He also borrows from the medieval texts De vetula and Étienne de Fougere’s Livre des manières.48 The work also has an intertextual relationship to medieval French literature, and shows evidence of the influence of Gautier Le Leu’s La Veuve and Mahieu de Boulogne’s Liber lamentationem.49 All the sources listed herein share the common characteristic of being satiric attacks on women.50 Boccaccio tells the story of a man who finds himself unhappy in love. Treated cruelly by his lady, he first considers suicide. Instead, he leaves the house and seeks out the company of men who discourse on philosophy and science. That evening, he falls asleep and has a dream, and the rest of the work is taken up by the narration of the vision. At first, he finds himself in a meadow following a lovely path; however, a mist rises up about him, and his surroundings transform into a harsh desert. He hears wild beasts howling, and he cannot make his way out of the frightening environment. At that moment, a man wearing a bright scarlet robe appears before him. He reveals that the Virgin Mary sent him to assist the narrator. He explains that the desert is actually the valley of love, and the bestial sounds are the groans of fellow lovers. He also identifies himself as a spirit suffering the torments of purgatory; indeed, his garment is composed of finely woven flames, which burn hotter than earthly fire. He asks the narrator to relate his misadventures. The spirit identifies himself as the husband of the woman whom the narrator loved. He then tries to cure the narrator of his passion. He first chastises the protagonist as being too old and educated to take part in the folly of love. Then he launches into a lengthy tirade about the failings of all women. Finally, he describes the particular

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failings of his former wife. The spirit’s monologue causes the narrator to abandon his love for the woman. In recompense for the spirit’s benevolence, the protagonist swears to compose a work in which he will reveal the woman’s villainy; presumably, Boccaccio alludes to the writing of the Corbaccio itself in its conclusion. ‘Reprehension’ comprises a keyword in the text, repeated at numerous occasions throughout the work.51 Furthermore, the narrative encompasses the entire tradition of misogynistic literature, alluding to its most important texts and citing many of its topoi. The spirit mentions the uncleanness of women’s bodies (l. 134), and speaks of their genitals as horrible producers of filth.52 Women are wily and want to have dominance over men (l. 136),53 and their garrulousness makes husbands miserable (l. 143).54 Women ensnare men through the use of cosmetics and fine clothing, which disguise their natural ugliness (ll. 225–7).55 The spirit speaks of his wife’s body in highly unflattering terms, noting that her breasts, when bare, resemble deflated bladders, and he refers to her vulva as a broad valley (ll. 288, 291).56 A good woman, the spirit concludes, is rarer than the phoenix (l. 183).57 As before, the general context of the work suggests that he interpreted Dante’s tenzone with Forese as the reprehension of female sins. However, Boccaccio’s castigation of women in the Corbaccio may not be straightforward. The spirit who counsels the narrator, the ghost of the woman’s husband, was a merchant, but his wife belonged to the aristocracy. The narrator is not entirely reliable either. The first-person protagonist is advanced in years (l. 119), introducing into the work the comic structure of a relationship between an elderly man and a younger woman. Moreover, at the very outset of the narration, he avers that he loves the woman sexually (‘carnale amore,’ l. 6). The spirit reiterates the notion of carnal love by explaining that the valley constitutes the court of those who believe in physical passion (‘concupiscibile e carnale amore,’ l. 76). The Corbaccio may not express the satire of love and women so much as the satire of misogyny itself.58 Boccaccio’s purpose in the work may be not to castigate vice per se, but rather to call into question the literature of castigation. The narratives of the Decameron agreed with the tenzone by vilifying the merchants in favour of the nobility. In the Corbaccio, however, Boccaccio behaves more even-handedly. He denigrates the merchants and those of low birth, but the aristocracy does not escape his wrath either. When the protagonist composes letters to the woman, she responds by asking him if he possesses wisdom, prowess, and courtesy joined with ancient nobility – in a word, she enquires if he is noble

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(l.  103). The narrator replies honestly, telling her that he has none of those traits (l. 106). Speaking to her nobly born paramour, the woman insults the narrator for his humble origins (l. 330). Her haughtiness forms part of the negative portrait of her as an aristocrat. During the spirit’s invective against her, he depicts her pride in her family’s history (ll. 206–7). The woman relishes the trappings of nobility, such as public acclaim, wealth, and a sense of superiority over others. But at the same time, she displays her total ignorance about her ancestors, further casting her in a negative light. By slandering the woman’s aristocratic pretensions, the author demonstrates the contradictory nature of the age as described above. All classes, the non-noble and the blue-blooded, were open to satire, and the author of the Corbaccio takes aim at them. While the criticism of women attracts most scholarly attention, in the Corbaccio it is linked to the slander of the aristocracy. Indeed, the denigration of the nobility is the reason why Boccaccio echoes Dante’s sonnet from the tenzone with Forese. The spirit says that he will eventually pursue a vendetta against his wife’s noble paramour. The spirit’s vengeance is to be based on his knowledge that the lover is raising the illegitimate child of another man as his own son: Ma non sarà senza vendetta l’offesa: per ciò che, se nel mondo, nel quale io dimoro, non si mente, che nol credo né mi pare, egli ha della moglie un tal figliuolo, e per suo il nutrica e allieva, che gli appartiene meno che non fe’ Gioseppo a Cristo […] (l. 319; emphasis added) But the offence will not be unavenged; for unless one tells lies in the world where I dwell (a thing which I neither think nor believe), he has by his wife a certain son whom he nourishes and raises as his own, who belongs to him less than Christ belonged to Joseph. (emphasis added)

In Dante’s third sonnet against Forese, he characterized Simone Donati as worried in bed, fearful that his son would be caught redhanded (ll. 9–10). Dante cast in doubt Simone’s paternity of Forese: ‘che gli apartien quanto Giusep a Cristo’ (‘[for he] has as much to do with him as Joseph with Christ,’ l. 11). The similarity of the Corbaccio to Dante’s sonnet goes beyond a simple turn of phrase. In his sonnet, Dante questions the legitimacy of Forese’s inheritance, and as a consequence, the very legitimacy of Forese and his brothers. While Boccaccio certainly viewed the tenzone as treating female misconduct, he also

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understood that misogyny served a secondary function: to satirize a social class. The sexual failings of aristocratic women, Boccaccio writes, have caused the decadence of the entire nobility. In Dante’s sonnet and in the Corbaccio, therefore, the denigration of women’s sexuality is bound up with the slander of the nobles. The conflation of the satire of the aristocracy with sexuality is not limited to the reference to Dante’s sonnet. At one point, the spirit denigrates his wife by relating the type of jousting that she prefers. He states: ella s’usa nelle camere, ne’ nascosi luoghi, ne’ letti e negli altri simili luoghi acconci a ciò, dove, senza corso di cavallo o suono di tromba di rame, alle giostre si va a pian passo; e colui tiene ella che sia o vuogli Lancelotto o vuogli Tristano, Orlando o Ulivieri di prodeza la cui lancia, per se o per otto o per dieci aringhi, la notte non si piega in guisa che poi non si dirizi. (l. 264) it is used in the boudoir, in hidden places, bed, and similar locations suited to it, where without the coursing of horse, or the sound of brass trumpets, one goes to the joust at a slow pace. And she considers him to have the prowess of either Lancelot, Tristam, Roland, or Oliver, whose lance does not bend for six, eight, or ten jousts in one night in such a way that it is not then raised again.

Throughout much of the work, Boccaccio employs the language of jousting and of other noble pursuits as sexual double entendres. In so doing, the author follows the lead of an earlier master of jocose poetry, Rustico Filippi. Like the author of the Corbaccio, Rustico too spoke of combat and jousting in order to allude to the women’s infidelities. At another instance, Boccaccio evokes Rustico’s poetics by describing the woman’s vulva as smellier than a lion’s den (l. 296). In ‘No riconoscereste voi l’Acerbo,’ Filippi indicated a woman’s illicit sexuality by associating her with the stench of a lion. Like Rustico before him, Boccaccio combines the depiction of female misbehaviours with the denigration of specific social classes in his literature. Elsewhere, Boccaccio describes the woman’s interest in the prowess of certain noblemen: […] e più di altri, i quali ella provare volle come arme portassono o sapessono nella chintana ferire parendomene avere detto assai, giudico che sia da tacere. (l. 252)

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[…] and I think it best not to mention several others now known to me whom she wanted to test in arms-bearing and in hitting the quintain, because it seems to me that I have said too much.

Boccaccio recalls Rustico’s language by speaking of the vagina as the quintain or jousting target. In the same poem in which Filippi called the woman ‘Milady Lioness,’ he spoke of the stench that arose from her quintain (‘quintana,’ l. 10). In that poem, Rustico employed the lexeme as a metaphor for the woman’s vagina, and Boccaccio uses it with precisely the same connotation (‘chintana’). The presence of Rustico’s distinctive lexicon in Boccaccio’s work is again not coincidental. The Dizionario storico del lessico erotico italiano lists Rustico’s sonnet as the sole literary predecessor for the term prior to the Corbaccio.59 Taken together, the two narratives suggest that Boccaccio followed a program of citing Rustico when dealing with the poetry of the tenzone between Dante and Forese. Filippi’s presence in the Corbaccio may highlight Boccaccio’s understanding that Dante modelled his sonnets against Forese on Rustico’s poetry. In conclusion, each of Boccaccio’s three narratives illuminates the poems of the exchange between Dante and Forese. Whether dealing with Nella’s coldness or the Counts Guidi, Boccaccio demonstrates a critical comprehension of the insulting poems. He exploits the intertextualities with Dante’s sonnets by building upon many of the undertones of the correspondence, thereby giving further depth to his narratives. He also encompasses the poet’s literary aims. He understands that misogynistic slander functioned as more than the denigration of women. He connects the castigation of women to social satire, first by mocking the mercantile class, and then by parodying the nobility. He also acknowledges Dante’s indebtedness to Rustico Filippi by twice citing the latter poet in proximity to a quotation of Dante’s verse. Boccaccio understood the place of the tenzone between Forese and Dante in the overall context of Florentine literature. Boccaccio also provides evidence for the codicological history of Dante’s tenzone with Forese. Both Decameron stories refer to Dante’s sonnet ‘Chi udisse tossir la mal fatata’ (‘Anyone who heard the coughing of the luckless wife’); the Corbaccio quotes Dante’s ‘Bicci novel, figliuol di non so cui’ (‘Young Bicci, son of I don’t know who’). The earliest manuscripts of the tenzone form three branches, with one branch (α) containing four sonnets. Both of the poems that Boccaccio cites appear in that branch. The pattern of Boccaccio’s citations indicates that he

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was familiar with the tenzone from its α manuscripts. In addition, Boccaccio composed his works around mid-century, roughly contemporaneous with the earliest α codices, Chigiano L.VIII.305 and Banco Rari 69. Thus, his references to Dante’s sonnets assist in dating the split between the α and manuscripts (the ß branch is probably related to α). The fragmentation of the tenzone with Forese Donati in the manuscripts almost certainly occurred before the 1350s (see the appendix for further corroboration of this date).

Conclusion

The tenzone between Dante and Forese can be understood from many perspectives. The six sonnets can be situated in the history and culture of the Duecento, and they play a role in Dante’s biography and literature. Additionally, the poems influenced writers of the Trecento, in particular Giovanni Boccaccio. Yet the impact of Dante’s tenzone with Forese did not remain confined to the fourteenth century. The poems continued to be transcribed and redacted throughout the Quattrocento, indicating their continued relevance to Renaissance readership. Furthermore, Boccaccio’s Decameron influenced Niccolò Machiavelli’s Mandragola, which contains echoes of one of Dante’s insulting sonnets. Although the tenzone with Forese was a minor episode in Dante’s life, it was not unimportant for him or for Italian literature. This book is predicated on the fact that the sonnets are authentic. That is to say, Dante Alighieri and Forese Donati really did compose the six sonnets in the late thirteenth century. Since the 1930s, some scholars have developed the theory that the attribution of the tenzone is mistaken. The theory has resurfaced several times, most recently in the mid-1990s.1 It posits that the tenzone between Dante and Forese was actually a hoax composed ca. 1390–1406 in the literary circle of Stefano di Tommaso di Finiguerri, nicknamed ‘il Za’ (date of birth is disputed; d. 1435).2 The ‘Za’ proponents believe that one poet wrote all six sonnets in order to slander a homosexual couple, Bicci Castellani3 and Giovanni Gherardi da Prato, nicknamed ‘l’Acquettino’ (ca. 1367– ca. 1444)4; the poet in question gave Giovanni Gherardi the new nickname of ‘Alighieri.’ The poems, according to this theory, are a mock dialogue between the two individuals, and they all discuss homosexual acts in a coded manner.

Conclusion

123

But nothing corroborates the idea that a fraud like this ever occurred. Of eleven source manuscripts, ten directly ascribe the sonnets to Dante Alighieri and Forese Donati (see the appendix for complete information about the manuscripts); the eleventh codex, Banco Rari 69, implies attribution by placing them among Dante’s poetry. Conversely, nothing links the sonnets to ‘il Za.’ No manuscript attributes any of the sonnets to him, he never makes reference to any of the six sonnets, he did not compose any other works under someone else’s name, and no document accuses him of creating hoaxes. Indeed, there is no evidence that anyone ever called Giovanni Gherardi ‘Alighieri,’ or that he even knew Bicci Castellani. Furthermore, ample evidence disproves the theory. The manuscript Chigiano L.VIII.305 (ca. 1360) precedes the dates of the ‘Za’ theory by decades; the codex Banco Rari 69 (ca. 1350–1400) probably does so as well. Andrea Lancia alludes to Dante’s vituperation of Forese in his commentary on the Commedia, the codex Firenze II.i.39 (ca. 1343). Around the middle of the thirteenth century writers like Boccaccio, Deo Boni, and Pieraccio Tedaldi cited the poems. Boccaccio seemingly accepted Dante’s slander of Forese as authentic because he alluded to it in proximity to a citation of Purgatorio XXIII. Additionally, Boccaccio noted Dante’s intertextuality with Rustico Filippi by echoing his poetry as well. And this discussion does not even take into account the numerous references to the Donati and Alighieri families throughout the sonnets, as well as Dante’s recollection of it in the Commedia. While many aspects of literary criticism are literally open to interpretation, the evidence leaves no room for doubt. The sonnets could only have been written by Dante and Forese during the last decades of the Duecento.

Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas

Throughout this book, reference was repeatedly made to the sonnets’ codicology. The manuscripts of the tenzone between Dante and Forese Donati provide important information about the reception and interpretation of the sonnets. They also reveal a textual problem regarding the correspondence; only one seventeenth-century codex, Vatican Barberiniano Latin 3999, contains all six sonnets. Instead, the rest of the codicological tradition comes in three distinct branches,1 labelled here as alpha (α), beta (ß), and gamma ( ). Michele Barbi published a stemma codicum of the literary phenomenon, which is still highly reliable. But Barbi left some questions unanswered.2 Additionally, some people still challenge the very attribution of the sonnets. It is therefore necessary to provide a detailed analysis of the manuscript sources. What follows, then, is a re-examination of the relationships among the manuscripts; it dovetails with Barbi’s work but clarifies some key points (ß and in particular). Scholars may also benefit by having complete transcriptions of the six sonnets. The transcriptions below are diplomatic, representing as faithfully as possible the codices. The scribal abbreviations have been expanded and placed in italics, and interlinear material placed in angled brackets. All punctuation and mise-en-page reflects the manuscript transcriptions. For the sake of simplicity, in the discussion of the codicology the sonnets will be referred to with the following letters:3 A: ‘Chi udisse tossire la mal fatata’ (Dante) B: ‘L’altra notte mi venn’una gran tosse’ (Forese) C: ‘Ben ti faranno il nodo Salamone’ (Dante) D: ‘Va rivesti San Gal prima che dichi’ (Forese)

Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas

125

E: ‘Bicci novel, figliuol di non so cui’ (Dante) F: ‘Ben so che fosti figliuol d’Alaghieri’ (Forese) I. Alpha ( ): The ABEF Tradition. Four manuscripts contain the sonnets ABEF of the tenzone. 1. Chigiano L.VIII.3054 (Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vatican City). Florence, ca. 1360.5 One of the manuscript’s four hands is probably that of Ser Francesco di Ser Nardo da Barberino.6 [All on f. 62v] [Rubric] dante a forese de donati Chi udisse tossire la malfatata / molgle di bicci uochato forese potrebbe dir chella forse uernata / oue si fal cristallon quel paese di meçço agosto la truoue infreddata / or sappi che de far dognaltro mese e nolle ual perche dorma calçata / merçe del choperto cha cortonese La tossel freddo e laltra mala uolgla / nolla douien per omor cabbia uecchi ma per difecto chella sente al nido. / Piange la madre cha piu duna dogla dicendo lassa per fichi secchi / messa lauren casa del conte Guido

[Rubric] Risposta di forese a dante Laltra nocte miuennuna gran tosse / perchi non auea che tener adosso ma incontanente di fui mosso / pergir a guadangnar oue che fosse udite la fortunoue madusse / chei credetti trouar perle inun bosso ebe fiorin choniati doro rosso / edi trouai alaghier tra le fosse Legato anodo chinon sacciol nome / sefu di salamon o daltro saggio allora misengna uersol leuante. / Equemi disse per amor di dante sciomi edi non potti ueder chome / tornai adietro e compie mi uiaggio

[Rubric] dante a forese de donati Bicci nouel filgluol di non so chui / sinonne domandassi monna tessa giu per la gola tanta robai messa / chaforça ti conuien torre laltrui e gia la gente si guarda dallui / chia borsallato la doue sappressa dicendo questi cha la faccia fessa / e piuuicho ladron negliatti sui E tal giace perlui nellecto tristo / pertema non sia presan lombolare chegli apartien quanto giosep acristo. / Di bicci ede fratei posso chontare cheperlo sangue lor del malacquisto / sannalor donne buon cognati stare

126 Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas

[Rubric] Rispuose forese a dante Benso che fosti figluol dallaghieri / ed achorgomene pur ala uendecta che facesti dilu si bella e necta / delaghulglin chede cambio laltrieri setalgliato nauessun aquartieri / di pace non doue auer tal frecta ma tua si piena la bonetta / che nolla porterebber duo somieri Buon uso cia rechato ben til dicho / che qual ti charicha ben di bastone cholu a per fratel e per amicho. / Il nome ti direi delle persone che uanno posto su ma del panicho / mi recha chiuo metter la ragione

2. Banco Rari 69 (formerly Palatino 180)7 (Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence). Florence, ca. 1350–1400. Possibly in the hand of Francesco Petrarca (d. 1374).8 (ff. 8v–9r) [No rubrics] Chi udisse tossir la mal fatata pottrebbe dir chela forte uernata di mezzo agosto la troui infreddata & non li ual perche dorma calzata / La tosse el freddo & lalt mala uoglia / ma per diffetto / chella sente al nido. / dicendo lassa che per fichi secchi

moglie di bicci uocato forese oue si fa cristallo in quel paese or sappi che dee far dogni altro mese merce del copertoio / che/ e / cortese no la diuien per humor chabbia uecchi Piange la madre che / a / piu duna doglia messa laurei in ca del Conte Guido

Laltra notte mi uenne una gran tosse ma incontinente leuato i fui mosso uditi la fortuna / oue maddosse ouer fiorin coniati doro rosso legato a nodo / chi non saccio il nome / allora mi signai uerso il leuante / scommi / io non potei ueder come

perchio non auea che tenere adosso per gire a guadagnare oue che fosse chio credetti trouar perle in un bosso & io trouai Alleghieri tra le fosse se fo di Salomone / o daltro saggio et quei mi disse per amor di dante tornai a dietro & compli mio uiaggio

Bicci nouel figliol di non so chui giu per la gola tanta robba ai messa et gia la gente si guarda da lui dicendo questi / che a la faccia fessa et tal giace per lui nel lecto tristo che gli apertien quanto Gioseppo a Cristo che per lo sangue lor del male acqisto

sio non idimando monna Tessa cha forza ti conuiene tor laltrui chi / a / borsa allato la doue sappressa e publico ladron negli atti suoi per tema non sia preso alimuolare di bice & di fratei ti posso contare sanno lor donne buon cognati stare

Ben so che fosti figliol dalleghieri che facesti di lui / si bella & netta se tagliato tauesseno a quartieri ma tu ai poi si piena la bonetta bono uso cia arrecchato ben til dico collui ai per fratello & per amico che uanno posto su / ma del panico

et accorgomene pur alla uendetta de laguglin che dei cambio laltreri di pace non deueui auer tal fretta che non la porterebber dui someri che qual ti charica pur ben di bastone il nome ti direi de le persone mi rechi / chi uol metter la ragione

Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas

3. Trivulziano 10589 (Biblioteca Trivulziana, Milan). Cremona. Manuscript completed on 26 May 1425. Niccolò Benzoni (f. 43v) [Rubric] Dante Aligieri poeta a forese donati Chi udisse tosser la mal fattata molglie di bici uocato forese potrebe dir chela forte uernata oue si fa cristalom quel paese di mezzo agosto la troui infreddata or sappi che de far dogni altro mese e nol ye ual perche dorma calzata merze del copertorio cha cortonese la tosse el fredo e laltra mala uolia nela diuien per humor chabia uechi ma per difetto chella sente al nido piange la madre cha piu duna dolia dicendo lassa che per fichi sechi messa laurei in cha del conte guido

(ff. 43v–44r) [Rubric] Risposta di Forese a Dante Laltra note mi uenne una gran tosse per chio non auea che tenere adosso ma incontanenti leuato yo fo mosso per gira agguadegnare oue che fosse udite la fortuna oue madusse che credeti trouare perle in un bosso ouer fiorin choniati doro rosso Et e trouay Alichier tralle fosse ligato a nodo chi non saccio il nome se fu di Salamone o daltro saggio que mi disse per amor di dante scomi ed i non puoti ueder come tornai in dietro e compij mio uiaggio allor mi segniai uer sol leuante

(f. 44r) [Rubric] Dante a forese de donati Bicci nouel figliol di non so cui si none domandassi mona tessa giu per la gola tanta roba ay messa

127

128 Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas a forza ti conuien de tore latruy e gia la gente si guarda da luy chia borsa alato la doue sapressa dicendo questi cha la faccia fessa E publico ladron ne li ati soy e tal giace per luy nel leto tristo per tema non sia presso alinuolare chegli aperten quanto yosep a Cristo Di bicci e di fratey posso contare per lo sangue lor del mal aquisto sannalor donne ben cogniati stare

(f. 44r) [Rubric] Risposta di forese a dante poeta Ben so che fosti figliol dalighieri e dachorgomene pur ala uendeta che facesti di luy si bella e netta de lagolijno che te cambio latrieri se taliato nauessun a quartieri di pace non dourei auer tal fretta ma tu ai poi si piena la boneta che nola portereber due someri Bon uso cia rechato ben tel dicho che qual taricha pur ben dil bastone coluy ay per fratel e per amico Il nome ti direy de le persone che uano posto somma del panico mi recha chi uo meter la ragione

4. Crusca 53 (also known as the ‘Raccolta Bartoliniana’)10 (Biblioteca degli Accademici della Crusca, Florence). Florence, ca. 1527–33.11 Lorenzo Bartolini. Probably related to Chigiano L.VIII.305.12 (f. 3r) [Rubric, top of page] Dante Aldighieri [Rubric] Dante a forese donati Chi udisse tossir la mal fatata moglie di bicci uocato forese potrebbe dir che la fosse uernata oue si fa ’l cristallo in quel paese Di mezzo agosto la truoui infreddata

Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas hor pensa che dee far’ d’ognaltro mese e non le ual perche dorma calzata merzè del copertoio c’ha cortonese La tosse ’l freddo, e laltra mala uoglia non laddiuien per homor c’habbia uecchj ma per difecto che la sente al nido Piange la madre c’ha piu d’una doglia diendo lassa a me per fichi secchi messa l’haurej in casa il conte guido

[Rubric] forse donatj a dante in Risposta Laltra notte mi uenne una gran tosse perch’io non hauea che tener adosso ma inconinente che fo di fui mosso per gir a guardagnar oue che fosse Vdite la fortuna oue m’addusse ch’io credettj trouare perle in un bosso e’ bei fiorin coniatj d’oro rosso ed io trouai alaghier fra le fosse Legato a nodo ch’io non saccio ’l nome se’ fu di salamone o, daltro saggio allhora mi segna uerso leuante E quei mi disse per amor di dante sciomj ed io non potettj veder come tornai adrieto e compie mio uiaggio

(f. 3v) [Rubric, top of page] Dante aldighieri [Rubric] Dante a forese donatj per replicare Bicci nouel figluol di non so cuj se non ne domandasse mona tessa giu per la gola tanta roba hai messa ch’aforza ti conuiene hor tor laltruj E gia la gente si guarda daluj chi ha borsa allato la doue s’appressa dicendo questi c’ha la faccia fessa e piuuico ladron negli actj suoi E tal giace per luj nel lecto tristo per tema non sia preso all imbolare che gli appartien quanto giuseppo a christo

129

130 Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas Di bicci e de fratej posso contare che per lo sangue loro del mal acquisto sanno a lor donne buon cognatj stare.

[Rubric] forese donatj a dante per risposta Ben so che fosti figluol d’allaghierj e d’acorgomen pure alla uendetta che facesti di lui si bella e netta dell aguglin ched ei cambio l’altrhierj Se tagliato n’hauessi uno aquartierj di pace non doueui hauer tal’ fretta ma tu hai poi si piena la bonetta che non la portarebbon dua somierj Buon uso ci haj recato gelil dico che qual charica te ben di bastone colui hai per fratello e per amico Il nome ti direj delle persone che u’hanno posto su, ma del panico mi reca ch’io uo’ metter la ragione. Table 1 Separation of

into

1

and

2

Line

Crusca 53 (α1)

Chigiano L.VIII.305 Banco Rari 69 (α1) (α2)

Trivulziano 1058 (α2)

A: l. 3

fosse

forse

forte

forte

A: l. 5

truoui

truoue

troui

troui

A: l. 8

merzè del copertoio c’ha cortonese

merçe del choperto cha cortonese

merce del copertoio che e cortese

merze del copertorio cha cortonese

A: l. 10 homor

omor

humor

humor

A: l. 14 casa

casa

ca

cha

B: l. 3

ma inconinente che fo di fui mosso

ma incontanente di ma incontinente fui mosso leuato i fui mosso

ma incontanenti leuato yo fo mosso

E: l. 8

piuuico

piuuicho

publico

publico

E: l. 10

all imbolare

lombolare

alimuolare

alinuolare

F: l. 6

doueui

doue

deueui

dourei

Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas

131

Table 2 Distinction of Crusca 53 from Chigiano L.VIII.305 Line

Crusca 53 (α1)

Chigiano L.VIII.305 (α1)

A: l. 3

fosse

forse

A: l. 5

truoui

truoue

A: l. 10

homor

omor

B: l. 3

ma inconinente che fo di fui mosso

ma incontanente di fui mosso

F: l. 9

gelil dico

ben til dicho

Table 3 Stemma of α

α (ABEF source)

Crusca 53 is related to Chigiano L VIII 305, perhaps directly Crusca 53

α1

Chigiano Banco Rari 69 L.VIII.305

α2

Trivulziano 1058

II. Beta (ß): The EF Tradition. Four manuscripts and one printed edition contain the sonnets EF of the tenzone. 1. Panciatichiano 2413 (Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence). Florence, ca. 1394. (f. 5v) [Rubric] Dante Alighieri Bicci nuel figliuol di non so chui / si nonne domandassi monna tessa giu per la gola tanta roba amessa / cha forza ti conuien torre laltruy e gia la gente si guarda daluy / chia borsa allato ladoue sapressa dicendo questi cha la faccia fessa / e piuuico ladron negli atti suoi Et tal giace per lui nelletto tristo / per tema non sia preso alonbolare che gla partien quanto guseppo a Cristo / Di bicci e de frate posso contare che per lo sangue lor del male acquisto / sann lor donne buon cognati stare

132 Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas

[Rubric] Risposta fatta a dante per Benso che fosti figliuol dallighieri / accorgome pure alla uendetta che facesti di lui si bella e netta / deglaguglin chede cambio laltrieri settaglato nauessuno acquartieri / di pace non doueui auer tal frecta mattu ai poi sipiena la bonetta / che nolla porterebbon due somieri Buonuso cia recato ben tel dico / che equal ti carica ben di bastone cholui ai per fratello per amico / Il nome ti direi delle persone che uanno posto su ma del panico / mi reca chi uo metter la ragione

2. Laurenziano XL.4914 (Biblioteca Mediceo-Laurenziana, Florence). Florence, fifteenth century. (f. 53v) [Rubric] Dante A Bicci nouell figliuolo di non so cui si nonne domandasse monna tessa giu per la gola tanta roba amessa cha força ti conuiene ortorre laltrui et gia la gente si guarda da lui chi a borsa allato ladoue sapressa dicendo questi cha la faccia fessa e piuuicho ladron negli ati suoi Et tal giace per lui nelecto tristo per tema non sia preso alombolare che gli apartien quanto giuseppo a Cristo di bicci et de frate posso co ntare che per lo sangue lor del male acquisto sanno allor donne buon cognati stare

[Rubric] Risposta facta a dante per Ben so che fosti figliuolo daleghieri accorgomene pure alla uendecta (f. 54r) che facesti di lui si bella et necta de gli aguglini chede cambio laltrieri se tagliato nauessi uno a quartieri di pace non doueuj auer tal frecta ma tu ai poi si piena la bonecta che non la porterebbon due somieri Buon uso cia recato ben tel dicho che qual ti carica ben di bastone

Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas colui ai per fratello et per amicho il nome ti direi delle persone che uanno posto su ma del panicho mi recha chio uo mecter la ragione

3. Riccardiano 109315 (Biblioteca Riccardiana, Florence). Florence, fifteenth century. (f. 49r) [Rubric] Dante A Bicci nouel figliuol di non so cui si non ne domandassi monna tessa giu per la gola tanta roba messa chaforça ti conuien torre laltrui et gia la gente si guarda dallui chia borsa allato ladoue sapressa dicendo questi ca la faccia fessa e piuuico ladron negli acti suoi Et tal giace per lui nelletto tristo per tema non sia preso alonbolare chegli apartien qunto giuseppo a Cristo di bicci e de frate posso contare che perlo sangue lor del malaquisto sannalor donne buon cognati stare

[Rubric] Risposta facta a dante per Benso che fosti figliuol daleghieri & acorgomene pur alla uendetta che facesti dilui si bella & netta degli aguglin chede cambio laltrieri se tagliato nauessi uno a qurtieri di pace non doueui auer tal frecta ma tu ai poi si piena la bonetta che non la porterebbon due somieri Buonuso cia recato ben tel dico che qul ti carica ben di bastone colui a per fratello & per amico il nome ti direi delle persone (f. 49v) che uanno posto su ma del panico mi reca chi uo metter la ragione

133

134 Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas

4. Riccardiano 109416 (Biblioteca Riccardiana, Florence). Florence, fifteenth century. (f. 141v) [Rubric, later hand] Dante A. Bicci nouel figliuolo di non so cui si nonne domandasse mona tessa giu per la gola tanta roba amessa cha força ti conuiene or torre laltrui et gia la gente si guarda da lui chia borssa allato ladoue sapressa dicendo questi cha la faccia fessa e piuuicho ladron negli acti suoi Et tal giace per lui nelecto tristo per tema non sia preso alombolare che gli apartien quanto Giuseppo a Cristo di bicci et de frate posso contare (f. 142r) che per olo sangue lor del male acquisto sanno a lor donne buon cogniati stare

[Rubric, same hand as texts] Risposta fatta a dante per Ben so che fosti figluolo daleghiery accorgomene pure alla uendecta che facesti di lui si bella et necta de gli aguglini che de cambio laltrieri se tagliato nauessi uno a quartieri di pace non doueui auer tal frecta ma tu ai poi si piena la bonecta che non la porterebbon due somieri Buon uso ci ai recato ben tel dicho che qual ti carica ben di bastone colui ai per fratello et per amicho il nome ti direi delle persone che uanno posto su ma del panicho mi recha chi uo mecter la ragione

Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas

135

Table 4 Traits unique to ß (not found in α) Trait

Chig. Banco L.VIII.305 ( 1) Rari 69 (α2)

Triv. 1058 Panc. 24 (α2) (ß)

Ricc. 1093 (ß)

Laur. XL.49 (ß)

Ricc. 1094 (ß)

E: l. 12

fratei

fratei

fratey

frate

frate

frate

F: l. 4

delaghulglin

de laguglin

de deglaguglin degli de gli de gli lagolijno aguglin aguglini aguglini

Table 5 Similarities of ß with Line

1

Chig. Banco L.VIII.305 Rari 69 (α1) (α2)

E: l. 1 filgluol

frate

figliol

E: l. 8 piuuicho publico

Triv. 1058 Panc. 24 (α2) (ß)

Ricc. 1093 Ricc. 1094 (ß) (ß)

Laur. XL.49 (ß)

figliol

figliuol

figliuol

figliuolo

figliuolo

publico

piuuico

piuuico

piuuicho

piuuicho

E: l. 10 lombolare alimuolare alinuolare alonbolare alonbolare alombolare alombolare Table 6 Independence of ß from Chigiano L.VIII.305 Line

Chig. L.VIII.305 (α1)

Banco Rari Triv. 1058 Ricc. 1094 Laur. 69 (α2) (α2) (ß) XL.49 (ß)

Ricc. 1093 Panc. 24 (ß) (ß)

E: l. 11

cristo

xpo

xpo

xpo

xpo

xpo

xpo

F: l. 6

doue

deueui

dourei

doueui

doueuj

doueui

doueui

Table 7 Characteristics of ß1: Line

Chig. Banco L.VIII.305 Rari 69 (α1) (α2)

Triv. 1058 Panc. 24 (α2) (ß)

Ricc. 1093 (ß)

Ricc. 1094 Laur. (ß1) XL.49 (ß1)

E: l. 1

filgluol

figliol

figliol

figliuol

figliuol

figliuolo

figliuolo

E: l. 4

conuien torre

conuiene conuien tor de torre

conuien torre

conuien torre

conuiene or torre

conuiene ortorre

136 Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas Table 8 Stemma for ß and α α (ABEF)17 (EF) ß

ß is related to α1

α1

α2

ß1 Laur. XL.49 Ricc. 1094 Ricc. 1093 Panc. 24

Chi. L.VIII.305

BR 69

Triv. 1058

5. Sonetti del Burchiello del Bellincioni e d’altri poeti fiorentini alla burchellesca (London [actually Lucca]: [n.p.], 1757), 220–1.

Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas

137

Table 9 Unique characteristics of the Burchiello edition, which indicate a sub-branch (ß2) of ß: ß Traits

ß1 Traits

Burchiello edition traits

E: l. 1: figliuol (diphthongized)

Same as beta

E: l. 1: figliuol

E: l. 1: figliuol (truncated)

E: l. 1: figliuolo E: l. 1: figliuol (truncated)

E: l. 3: roba

Same as beta

E. l. 3: rema (not seen elsewhere)

E: l. 4: convien torre

E: l. 4: or torre

E: l. 4: convien torre

E: l. 8: piuvico

Same as beta

E: l. 8: publico

E: l. 10: lombolare

Same as beta

E: l. 10: lombolare

E: l. 12: frate

Same as beta

E: l. 12: fratei

E: l. 14: sanno a lor donne buon cogniati stare

Same as beta

E: l. 14: San dopo morte dove gli hanno andare (not seen elsewhere)

F: l. 4: aguglin (truncated)

F: l. 4: aguglini F: l. 4: auguglin (truncated)

Table 10 ß stemma, including the Burchiello edition: ß (EF Source)

ß2 Burchiello edition (1757)

ß1 Laur. XL.49 Ricc. 1094 Ricc. 1093 Panc. 24

III. Gamma ( ): The CD Tradition. Two manuscripts contain sonnets CD of the tenzone, and a third contains a portion of C. One other manuscript assists in dating the branch. 1. Riccardiano 1016 (‘anonimo fiorentino’)18 (Biblioteca Riccardiana, Florence). Late fourteenth or early fifteenth century. Of the four manuscripts containing portions of the ‘anonimo fiorentino’ commentary of the Commedia, only Riccardiano 1016 discusses Purgatorio XXIII and XXIV.19

138 Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas

(f. 248v) setamentassi come.20 questa anima che in troduce qui lauctore a parlare si fu forese fratello di messer corso donati daffirençe il quale fu molto corrotto nel uitio della gola et nella prima uita fu molto dimestico dellauctore per la qual dimesticheçça egli fece festa a dante et molti sonetti et cose in rima scrisse luno allalt et fra gli altri lauctore riprendendolo di questo uitio della gola gli scrisse uno sonetto in questa forma ben ti faranno il no do Salamone bicci Nouello i pecti delle starne Ma peggio fia la lonça del castrone Chel cuoio fara uendetta della carne. Questo forese donati fu chiamato per sopranome bicci.

2. Rediano 18421 (Biblioteca Mediceo-Laurenziana, Florence). Florence, fifteenth or sixteenth century (a sonnet on f. 156v refers to the year 1468). Probably shares a common source with Chigiano L.IV.131.22 (f. 95v) [Rubric] Sonetto di dante mando a forese donati Ben ti faranno il nodo Salamone bicci nouello e petti delle starne ma peggio fia la lonza del castrone chel chuoio fara uendetta della charne tal che starai pur presso a san simone settu non ti prochacci del andarne entendi chel fuggire el mal bocchone sarebbe oramai tardi aricomprarne ma ben me detto che tu sai un arte che segli e uero tu ti puoi rifare poco chelle di molto gran ghuadagnio e fassi a tempo che tema di charne non ai chetti bisogni scioperare ma ben ne cholse male a fidistagnio

[Rubric] Risposta di forese a dante Ua riuesti san gallo prima che dichi parole o motti daltruy pouertate che troppo ne uenuta gran pietate in questo uerno a tutti suoi amichi e ancho settu nai per si mendichi (f. 96r) perche pur mandi annoi per charitate dal chastello altrafonte ata grenbiate chio saggio bene che tu tene nutrichi ma ben talenera illauorare se dio ti salui la tana el franciescho

Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas

139

che chol belluzo tu non stia inbrigata allo spedale a pinti a riparare egia mi pare uedere stare a descho ed in terzo alighieri colla farsata

3. Chigiano L.IV.13123 (Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vatican City). Florence, sixteenth or seventeenth century. Probably shares a common source with Rediano 184. However, the scribe of Chigiano L.IV.131 wrote that the manuscript’s source was transcribed in October 1394.24 (f. 343r) [Rubric] Sonetto di Dante mandato a Messer Forese Donati Ben ti farano il nodo salamone Bicci nouello & petti de le starne Ma peggio fia la lonza del cappone Che ’l cuoio fara uendetta de la carne Tal che stara piu presso à san simone se tu non ti procacci dell’andarne E ’ntendi che ’l fuggir’ cha mal boccone Sarebbe tardi hormai a ricomprarne Ma ben m’e detto che tu sai un’ arte Che s’egli e’ uero tu ti puoi rifare Pero ch’ell’e di molto gran guadagno E fassi à tempo ch’e’ tema di carte Non hai che ti bisogni scioperare Ma ben ne’ colse’ male à fidistagno

(f. 343v) [Rubric] Risposta di Forese à Dante Ua riuesti san gal prima che dichi Parole o motti d’altrui pouertate Che troppo n’e uenuta gran pietate In questo uerno à tutti suoi amichi E anche se tu ci hai per si mendichi Perche pur mandi a noi per caritate Dal castel l’altra fonte a ta grembiate Ch’i saccio ben che tu tene’ nutrichi Ma ben ti lecera il lauorare Se’ deo ti salui la tana e ’l francesco Che col belluzzo tu non sei in brigata A lo spedale à pinti à riparare E gia mi par uedere stare a descho E in terzo alighieri con la farsata

140 Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas Table 11 Traits of the manuscripts: Line

Riccardiano 1016

Rediano 184

Chigiano L.IV.131

l. 1

faranno

faranno

farano

l. 2: a

i pecti

e petti

& petti

l. 2: b

i pecti

e petti

petti

l. 3: a

lonça

lonza

lonza

l. 3: b

castrone

castrone

cappone

Table 12 Stemma for : The exact relationship to other forms and precise chronology are uncertain

(CD Source)

‘anonimo fiorentino’ (Ricc. 1016) Rediano 184

1

Chigiano M.IV.131

4. Firenze II.i.3925 (Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence). Florence, ca. 1343.26 Probably in the hand of Andrea Lancia (ca. 1297–ca. 1357).27 Marginal annotation to Purgatorio XXIII.40–8. No manuscript containing sonnets C or D also contains any of the sonnets ABEF. Therefore the separation of from α / ß probably occurred before the transcription of all the extant codices. Firenze II.i.39 provides general information regarding the dating of the split of from α / ß. In a marginalium to Purgatorio XXIII, the commentator alludes to a sonnet vituperating Forese: (f. 110v) et ecco. – qui finge lautore un suo noto nome forese de donati di firenze il quale peccoe in questo uitio onde lautore fece uiuente forese uno sonetto che comincia

Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas

141

The commentator breaks off the citation and leaves a blank space. Two of Dante’s sonnets (C and E) pillory Donati for his gluttony, but the commentator speaks of only one sonnet (‘uno sonetto’). The two sonnets about Forese’s gluttony are found in the two different branches of the stemma of the tenzone (E: α; C: ). Thus, Firenze II.i.39 indicates that the separation of from α / ß may have occurred before 1343. Boccaccio’s pattern of citations generally corroborates the mid-century dating of the split (see chapter 5). IV. ABCDEF. One manuscript contains all six sonnets. 1. Vatican Barberiniano Latin 399928 (Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vatican City). Seventeenth century. Federigo Ubaldini. Sonnets ABEF were drawn from Chigiano L.VIII.305,29 and the sonnets CD were from Chigiano L.IV.131.30 (f. 79r) [Rubric] Dante a Forese de’ Donati Chi udisse tossir la malfatata Moglie di Bicci uocato Forese Potrebbe dir ch’ella fosse uernata Oue si fa ’l cristallo o in quel paese Di mezzo agosto la truoui infreddata Or sappi che de far d’ogni altro mese E no le ual perche dorma calzata Merze del copertoio ch’a cortonese La tosse e’l freddo e l’altra mala uoglia No le adiuien per omor ch’abbia uecchi Ma per difetto ch’ella sena al nido Piange la madre ch’à più d’una doglia Dicendo lassa che per fichi secchi Messa l’aure’ in casa del Conte Guido

(f. 79v) [Rubric] Risposta di Forese a Dante L’altra notte mi uenne una gran tosse E no auea che tener ’addosso Ma io incontinente che mi fui mosso Per gire a guadagnarmi oue che fosse Udite la fortuna che m’addusse Ch’io credetti trouar perle in un bosso

142 Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas E be’ fiorin conati d’oro rosso Ed io trouai Alaghier tra le fosse Legato a nodo che no saccio il nome Se fu di Salamone o d’altro saggio Allora mi segnai uerso il leuante E quei mi disse per amor di Dante sciommi: ed i non potetti ueder come Tornaimi addietro e compie’ mio uiaggio

(f. 80r) [Rubric] Dante a Forese de’ Donati Ben ti faranno il nodo Salamone Bicci nouello e petti delle starne Ma peggio fia la lonza del castrone Che ’l cuoio farà uendetta della carne Tal che starai più presso a San Simone Se tu non ti procacci dell’andarne E ’ntendi che ’l fuggir a mal boccone Sarebbe tardi omai a ricomprarne Ma ben m’è detto che tu sai un’arte Che s’egli è uero tu ti può rifare Però ch’ell’è di molto gran’ guadagno E fassi a tempo che tema di carte Non ai che ti bisogni scioperare Ma ben ne colse male a Fidistagno

(f. 80v) [Rubric] Risposta di Forese a Dante Ua riuesti Sangal prima che dichi Parole o motti d’altrui pouertate Che troppo n’è uenuto gran pietate In questo uerno a tutti suoi amichi E anch’ se tu ci ai per si mendichi Perch’ pur mandi a noi per caritate Dal castel l’altra front’ a ta’ grembiate Ch’io saccio ben che tu te ne nutrichi Ma ben ti lecerà il lauorare Se dio ti salui la Tana e ’l Francesco Che col belluzzo tu non sei in brigata Allo spedale a Pinti a riparare E già mi pare ueder stare a desco Ed in terzo Alaghier con la farsata

Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas

(f. 81r) [Rubric] Dante a Forese Bicci nouel figliuol di non so cui Se non ne domandassi Monna Tessa Giù per la gola tanta roba ai messa Ch’a forza ti conuien torre l’altrui E già la gente si guarda da lui Chi à borsa a lato la doue s’appressa Dicendo questo ch’a la faccia fessa È piuuico ladron negli atti sui E tal giace per lui nel letto tristo Per tema non sia preso all’imbolare Che gli appartien come Gioseppe a Cristo Di Bicci e de’ frate’ posso contare Che per lo sangue lor del male acquisto Sanno a lor donn’ buon cognati stare

(f. 81v) [Rubric] Risposta di Forese a Dante Ben so che fosti figliuol d’Alaghieri E accorgomene pur alla uendetta Che facesti di lui si bella e netta Dello Aguglin che de cambio l’altr’ieri Se tagliato n’auessi un a quartieri Di pace non doueui auer tal fretta Che non la porterebber duo somieri Buon’ uso ci ài recato ben te ’l dico Che qual ti carica ben di bastone Colui ai per fratello e non per amicho Il nome ti direi delle persone Che u’anno posto sù: ma del panico mi reca ch’io uo metter la ragione

143

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Notes

Introduction: Dante’s Harsh New Style 1 For an overview of the arguments of the dating of the tenzone between Dante and Forese, see Vincenzo Pernicone, ‘Le Rime,’ Cultura e scuola 4.13–14 (1965): 684. Regarding the argument that it also postdated Guido Novello’s death, the internal reference to him does not state explicitly that he is dead, nor does it even single him out as a person. Therefore, it seems to be an unreliable factor for dating the correspondence. 2 Charles S. Singleton, An Essay on the ‘Vita Nuova’ (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1949), 83. 3 See Elizabeth Bartlett and Antonio Illiano, ‘Dante’s Tenzone,’ Italica 44 (1967): 282–90. 4 There are several examples of derisive intent appearing in Dante’s works. For example, Pier Vincenzo Mengaldo reads Dante’s characterization and rejection of the various dialects of Italy in the De vulgari eloquentia as an example of improperium. H. Wayne Storey interprets the sonnet ‘No me poriano zamai far emenda’ as a product of the internecine conflict in Bologna and, therefore, as derisive of the Garisenda family. See Pier Vincenzo Mengaldo, ‘Introduzione,’ in Dante Alighieri: Opere minori, vol. 3, pt. 1, De vulgari eloquentia, Monarchia (Milan and Naples: Ricciardi, 1995), 8; and H. Wayne Storey, Transcription and Visual Poetics in the Early Italian Lyric (New York and London: Garland, 1993), 147. 5 Piero Cudini, ‘La tenzone tra Dante e Forese e la Commedia (Inf. XXX; Purg. XXIII–XXIV),’ Giornale storico della letteratura italiana 158 (1982): 7–8. 6 For examples of Dante’s use of the low style in the Inferno, see Felice Del Beccaro, ‘Il Canto XXII dell’Inferno,’ in Lectura Dantis internazionale: Letture dell’ ‘Inferno’ (Milan: Marzorati, 1963), 203; Vittorio Russo, Canto XXII dell’

146

7 8

9 10

11 12

13 14

15

16 17 18 19 20

Notes to pages 5–8 ´ ‘Inferno’ (Naples: Loffredo, 1982), 15–24; Zygmunt G. Baranski, ‘“Significar per verba”: Notes on Dante and Plurilingualism,’ Italianist 6 (1986): 12; and ´ Zygmunt G. Baranski, ‘Dante, the Roman Comedians, and the Medieval Theory of Comedy,’ Italianist 15, Supplement 2 (1995): 65–9. Franco Suitner, ‘Dante e la poesia satirica del suo tempo,’ Letture classensi 12 (1983): 75. The first modern criticism of the tenzone with Forese Donati was Isidoro del Lungo’s ‘La tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati,’ in Dante ne’ tempi di Dante (Bologna: Zanichelli, 1888), 435–61. Judson Boyce Allen, The Ethical Poetic of the Later Middle Ages: A Decorum of Convenient Distinction (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1982), 19–20. The Divine Comedy is cited from Dante Alighieri, La Commedia secondo l’antica vulgata, ed. Giorgio Petrocchi (Milan: Mondadori, 1966–67). All translations of the Commedia are from Robert M. Durling, trans., The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri, vol. 1, Inferno (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996); The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri, vol. 2, Purgatorio (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). Renato Piattoli, ‘Donati,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1970), 2:555. Piero Boitani, Dante’s Poetry of the Donati, The Barlow Lectures on Dante delivered at University College London, 17–18 March 2005 (Leeds: Maney, 2007), 1. Renato Piattoli, ‘Donati,’ 2:556. Michele Barbi, ‘A proposito di Buoso Donati ricordato nel canto XXX dell’ Inferno,’ in Problemi di critica dantesca, prima serie (1893–1918) (Florence: Sansoni, 1965), 305–8. The ‘anonimo fiorentino’ tells the story fully. See Pietro Fanfani, ed., Commento alla Divina Commedia d’anonimo fiorentino del secolo XIV (Bologna: Romagnoli, 1866), 1:637–9. Mario Fubini, ‘Donati, Piccarda,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 2:565. Ernesto Sestan, ‘Donati, Corso,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 2:559. Giovanni Villani, Nuova cronica, ed. Giulio Cura Curà (Rome: Istituto Poligrafico e zecca dello stato, 2002), 399 (bk. 9, chap. 42). Adolfo Jenni, ‘Donati, Forese,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 2:561. Domenico Guerri discovered a reference to the tomb of one ‘Lady Iohanna, wife of Lord Simone of the Donati’ (‘Dña Iohanna uxor dñi Simone di Donati’). On the basis of that discovery, he claimed that Giovanna, and not Contessa, was Forese’s mother. Domenico Guerri, ‘Per la storia di Monna Tessa,’ in Scritti danteschi e d’altra letteratura antica (Rome: DeRubeis, 1990), 360.

Notes to page 8

147

21 The first page of the manuscript describes the codex as containing ‘Storia della Guerra tra Fiorentini e il Conte di Uirtù di Goro di Stagio Dati’ (f. 1r); the inscription is dated to 1670. The descriptio codici on the first folio is important because the manuscript is flawed. The history of Florence is seamlessly joined to a prose ‘Lives of the Philosophers’ (which begins on f. 3r) and fragments of the thirteenth-century Novellino (which begin on f. 71r); as far as I can determine, the passage dealing with the war between the Guelphs and Ghibellines appears on ff. 72r–86r. The description of the manuscript in Giuseppe Mazzatini’s Inventari dei manoscritti delle biblioteche d’Italia omits any reference to the historical fragment. See Giuseppe Mazzatini, Inventari delle biblioteche d’Italia, vol. 10 (Forlì: Luigi Bordandini, 1900), 44. 22 Codicologically speaking, it is more correct to refer to ‘chartae’ than to ‘folios.’ A ‘folio’ is a sheet that is folded to make a ‘bifolium,’ and half of that is a ‘charta,’ not a folio. However, it has become common practice to refer to folios and not chartae of manuscripts. 23 Since it contributes to the interpretation of Dante’s sonnet, the passage is diplomatically reproduced here in full (abbreviations are expanded and rendered with italics): ‘madonna chontessa fue una nobile donna e ffue madre di mss chorso donati nel tenpo chellera giovane donna andando per la citta con due donzelli assua conpangnia e passando da orto samichele aueuaui di buona giente leuarsi essalutarla e fecele honore fra quali era besticcio disse ua che in bordello ti possa io uedere accioche chi ne uolesse cittadino o contadino ne potesse auere cho suoi danari la donna lo ntese disse alla conpangnia chera collei uolgeteui e torno indietro e disse bisticcio perche mi dittu uillania chi chauesse di me nonne potresti auere a dodici e partissi la donna chortesemente bisticcio si uerghogno che non credea la donna lauesse inteso.’ Giovanni Papanti provides a lectio of the passage, but absolutely no information about the manuscript or its context in the historical chronicle. See Giovanni Papanti, Catalogo dei novellieri italiani in prosa (Livorno: Vigo, 1871), 1:xlvii. 24 Ernesto Sestan, ‘Donati, Corso,’ 558. 25 Ernesto Sestan, ‘Dante e i Conti Guidi,’ in Italia medievale (Naples: Edizioni scientifiche italiane, 1968), 339–40. 26 The expression is mentioned by Giovanni Villani, Nuova cronica, 360 (bk. 8, chap. 140). 27 Adolfo Jenni, ‘Donati, Forese,’ 560–1. 28 [n.a.] ‘Nella,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 4:34. About Nella, Pietro Alighieri writes: ‘eius uxoris, nomine Domine Nelle de Frescobaldis de Florentia’ (‘his wife, who was named Lady Nella of the Frescobaldi of Florence’).

148

29 30 31

32 33

34 35 36 37 38 39

40 41 42 43 44 45

Notes to pages 8–11 Pietro Alighieri is cited from ‘La Divina Commedia’ nella figurazione artistica e nel secolare commento, vol. 2, Purgatorio, ed. G. Biagi, G.L. Passerini, and E. Rostagno (Turin: UTET, 1931), 482. See, for instance, Dino Compagni’s Cronica, ed. Gino Luzzato (Turin: Einaudi, 1978), 54 (ll. 21–30). Robert Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, vol. 4, ed. Lucia Belmonte and Linda Clerici (Florence: Sansoni, 1972–1973), 40. The ‘ottimo commento’ states: ‘[…] ed esso Autore [Dante] fu quegli che, per amore che aveva in lui e familiaritade, lo indusse alla confessione; e (fece) conversione a Dio anzi l’ultimo fine.’ (‘[…] and that author [Dante] was he who, for the love and familiarity he had in him, induced him to confession and made him convert to God before his ultimate demise.’) Cited from ‘La Divina Commedia’ nella figurazione artistica e nel secolare commento, 2:481. Francesco Mazzoni, ‘Ottimo Commento,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 4:220–1. Enrico Fiumi, ‘Fioritura e decadenza dell’economia fiorentina,’ Archivio storico italiano 65 (1957): 437. Mario Sanfilippo. ‘Dante nobile?’ Problemi 63 (1982): 89–96. See also Umberto Carpi, ‘Il fiorino e la nobiltà,’ in La nobiltà di Dante (Florence: Edizioni Polistampa, 2004), 85–6. See Renato Piattoli, ed., Codice diplomatico dantesco (Florence: Gonnelli, 1950), documents 6–13. Renato Piattoli, ed., Codice diplomatico dantesco, document 8, p. 13. Renato Piattoli, ed., Codice diplomatico dantesco, document 6, p. 7. Philip Jones, The Italian City-State: From Commune to Signoria (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), 200. Michele Barbi, Vita di Dante (Florence: Sansoni, 1963), 12. Lino Pertile, ‘Such Outlandish Words,’ in Lectura Dantis: ‘Inferno’: A Canto-by-Canto Commentary, ed. Allen Mandelbaum, Anthony Oldcorn, and Charles Ross (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1998), 381. Michele Scherillo, ‘Geri del Bello,’ in Alcuni capitoli della biografia di Dante (Turin: Loescher, 1896), 85–8. Renato Piattoli, ‘Alighieri, Geri,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 1:141. Cited from Michele Scherillo, ‘Geri del Bello,’ 84. The translation is mine. Vittore Branca, ‘L’epopea mercantile,’ in Boccaccio medievale (Florence: Sansoni, 1965), 71. Stephen Bembrose, A New Life of Dante (Exeter: Exeter University Press, 2000), 3.

Notes to pages 11–12

149

46 Renato Piattoli and Simonetta Saffiotti Bernardi, ‘Alighieri, Alighiero II,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 1:132. 47 About Dante’s father-figures, see Fernando Salsano, ‘Padre (patre),’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 4:248; Bruna Cordati Martinelli, ‘Paterno,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 4:348; Ricardo Quinones, ‘Paradiso XVI,’ Lectura Dantis (Virginiana) 16–17 (Spring–Fall 1995): 230; and Eugenio Donadoni, ‘Canto XV,’ in Letture dantesche, vol. 3, Paradiso, ed. Giovanni Getto (Florence: Sansoni, 1964), 1649–50. 48 Giorgio Petrocchi, Vita di Dante (Bari: Laterza, 1984), 21, 25. 49 Giorgio Petrocchi, Vita di Dante, 18. 50 For an overview of the period of waywardness, see Lino Pertile, ‘Dante’s Comedy beyond the Stilnovo,’ in Dante: The Critical Complex, vol. 6, Dante and Critical Theory, ed. Richard Lansing (New York and London: Routledge, 2003), 295. 51 In the Vita Nuova, Dante describes himself falling for a second woman, the ‘lady of the window’ (Vita Nuova XXXV.2). 52 In the Convivio, Dante explains the ‘lady of the window’ to have been little more than a chaste metaphor for the books of philosophy in which he sought solace (II.xii.5–6). 53 Emmanuel Poulle, ‘Venere: Il pianeta,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 5:921. 54 When Beatrice appears at the top of the mountain of Purgatory, she chastises Dante for not having stayed true to her memory (XXX.124–32). In the subsequent canto, Dante tearfully confesses to Beatrice: ‘Le presenti cose / col falso lor piacer volser miei passi, / tosto che ’l vostro viso si nascose’ (‘Present things with their false pleasure turned my steps as soon as your face was hidden’) (Purgatorio XXXI.34–6). 55 Shortly following the rediscovery of the sonnets of the tenzone during the late nineteenth century, Isidoro Del Lungo interpreted the period of decadence literarily. In the years following Beatrice’s death, Dante had turned from poetry in praise of Beatrice to verse dealing with more trivial matters, Del Lungo argued. In short, Del Lungo uses Purgatorio to date the tenzone with Forese Donati to the years of 1293–96. Del Lungo’s reasoning did not fall on deaf ears, for Michele Barbi, in his magisterial study of the tenzone, accepts his line of reasoning and dates it similarly. See Isidoro del Lungo, ‘La tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati,’ 441; and Michele Barbi, ‘Tenzone con Forese Donati,’ in Rime della ‘Vita Nuova’ e della giovinezza (Florence: Le Monnier, 1956), 367–71. Please note that the Barbi’s article was originally published as: ‘La tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati,’ Studi danteschi 9 (1924): 5–149. Except where noted, all citations of the

150

56

57

58 59 60 61

62

63 64

65

66 67 68

69

Notes to pages 12–13 article refer to the later version published in Rime della ‘Vita Nuova’ e della giovinezza. Franco Masciandaro, ‘Purgatorio XXIII,’ Lectura Dantis (Virginiana) 12, Supplement (Spring 1993): 344. Teodolinda Barolini, Dante’s Poets: Textuality and Truth in the ‘Comedy’ (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984), 48. In his biography of Dante, Giorgio Petrocchi, for instance, stresses that Dante’s confession in Purgatorio need not be viewed as a literary judgment on jocose literature, nor as the repudiation of the tenzone with Forese. See Giorgio Petrocchi, Vita di Dante, 52–3. Mario Marti, ‘Sulla genesi del realismo dantesco,’ in Realismo dantesco e altri studi (Milan and Naples: Ricciardi, 1961), 31. Philip Jones, The Italian City-State: From Commune to Signoria, 309. Daniel Waley, The Italian City-Republics (New York and Toronto: McGrawHill, 1969), 165. Daniela Medici, ‘L’evoluzione sociale della classe dirigente dal 1280 al 1292,’ in Ghibellini, Guelfi e popolo grasso: I detentori del potere politico a Firenze nella seconda metà del Dugento, ed. Sergio Raveggi et al. (Florence: La Nuova Italia, 1978), 226. See also Erminia Maria Dispenza Crimi, ‘Cortesa’ e ‘valore’ dalla tradizione a Dante (Cosenza: Marra, 1993), 34. Franco Cardini, ‘Intellectuals and Culture in Twelfth- and ThirteenthCentury Italy,’ in City and Countryside in Late Medieval and Renaissance Italy: Essays Presented to Philip Jones, ed. Trevor Dean and Chris Wickham (London and Ronceverte: Hambledon Press, 1990), 19. John Larner, ‘La nobiltà,’ in L’Italia nell’età di Dante, Petrarca e Boccaccio (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1982),152. Gaetano Salvemini, ‘Magnati e popolani in Firenze da 1280 al 1295,’ in Medioevo, risorgimento, fascismo: Antologia di scritti storici, ed. Enzo Tagliacozzo and Sergio Buchi (Bari: Laterza, 1992), 9 Marvin B. Becker, ‘A Study in Political Failure: The Florentine Magnates (1280–1343),’ in Florentine Essays: Selected Writings of Marvin B. Becker (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2002), 95. Carol Lansing, The Florentine Magnates: Lineage and Faction in a Medieval Commune (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), 13. Bernardino Barbadoro and Luigi Dami, Firenze di Dante: La città, la storia, la vita, Dante (Florence: Le Monnier, 1966), 71. Patrizia Parenti, ‘Gli anni di Giano della Bella,’ in Ghibellini, Guelfi e popolo grasso: I detentori del potere politico a Firenze nella seconda metà del Dugento, ed. Sergio Raveggi et al. (Florence: La Nuova Italia, 1978), 242. Ferdinand Schevill, Medieval and Renaissance Florence, vol. 1, Medieval Florence (New York: Harper & Row, 1965), 158–9.

Notes to pages 13–18

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70 John Najemy, Corporatism and Consensus in Florentine Electoral Politics, 1280–1400 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1982), 43. 71 See, for instance, Nicola Ottokar, Il comune di Firenze alla fine del Dugento (Florence: Vallecchi, 1926), 266–7. 72 Brian Pullan, A History of Early Renaissance Italy: From the Mid-Thirteenth to the Mid-Fifteenth Century (New York: St Martin’s Press, 1973), 136. 73 Marvin B. Becker, ‘A Study in Political Failure: The Florentine Magnates (1280–1343),’ 116. 74 Philip Jones, The Italian City-State: From Commune to Signoria, 224. 75 Carol Lansing, The Florentine Magnates, 212–16. The citation is from p. 212. 76 Philip Jones, The Italian City-State: From Commune to Signoria, 224. 77 Umberto Carpi, ‘Il fiorino e la nobiltà,’ in La nobiltà di Dante, 52. 78 Domenico Consoli, ‘Nobile o nobiltà,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 4:58–62. 79 Carol Lansing, The Florentine Magnates, 215–16. 1 La debita correzione: The Poetics of Insult in the Duecento 1 See the following anthologies: Aldo Francesco Massèra, Sonetti burleschi e realistici dei primi due secoli (Bari: Laterza, 1940); Mario Marti, Poeti giocosi del tempo di Dante (Milan: Rizzoli, 1956); Maurizio Vitale, ed., Rimatori comico-realistici del Due e Trecento (Turin: UTET, 1965). See also the following studies: Mario Marti, Cultura e stile nei poeti giocosi del tempo di Dante (Pisa: Nistri-Lischi, 1953), 4–6; Maurizio Vitale, La lingua dei poeti realisticogiocosi del ’200 e del ’300 (Milan: La Goliardica, 1955), 22–3; Franco Manca, ‘Dante e la poesia realistico-borghese,’ Canadian Journal of Italian Studies 8.30 (1985): 32–4; and Domenico De Robertis, ‘Ancora per Dante e Forese Donati,’ in ‘Feconde venner le carte’: Studi in onore di Ottavio Besomi, ed. T. Crivelli (Bellinzona: Casagrande, 1997), 42–6. The term ‘jocose’ (‘giocoso’) is prevalent throughout Mario Marti’s studies. 2 One example shall suffice to illustrate how scholars viewed comic poetry as an indictment of the poet’s personality. Alessandro d’Ancona, the author of the first major study of Cecco Angiolieri, cast the poet as an actual frequenter of inns, and, d’Ancona depicted his poetry as mere entertainment for fellow tavern-goers. See Alessandro d’Ancona, ‘Cecco Angiolieri da Siena, poeta umorista del secolo XII,’ in Studi di critica e storia letteraria, pt. 1 (Bologna: Zanichelli, 1912), 132–4. 3 Annamaria Nada Patrone, Il messaggio dell’Ingiuria nel Piemonte del tardo medioevo (Cavallermaggiore: Gribaudo, 1993), 22. 4 Judith Butler, Excitable Speech: A Politics of the Performative (New York and London: Routledge, 1997), 50.

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Notes to pages 18–20

5 See, for instance, the tenzone between Jacopo Mostacci, Pier delle Vigne, and Giacomo da Lentini, in Bruno Panvini, ed., Le rime della scuola siciliana (Florence: Olschki, 1962). 6 John Ahern, ‘The Reader on the Piazza: Verbal Duels in Dante’s Vita Nuova.’ Texas Studies in Literature and Language 32.1 (Spring 1990): 20. 7 Cited from Patricia Hagen, ‘The Medieval Provençal Tenson: Contribution to the Study of the Dialogue Genre,’ PhD diss., Yale University, 1975, 22. 8 Pierre Bec, La joute poétique: De la tenson médiévale aux débats chantés traditionnels (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2000), 9. 9 David J. Jones, La tenson provençale: Étude d’un genre poétique, suivie d’une édition critique de quatre tensons et d’une liste complète des tensons provençales (Geneva: Slatkine Reprints, 1974), 50. 10 Patricia Hagen, ‘The Medieval Provençal Tenson,’ 27. 11 Patricia Hagen, ‘The Medieval Provençal Tenson,’ 221. 12 H. Wayne Storey, Transcription and Visual Poetics in the Early Italian Lyric (New York and London: Garland, 1993), 89. 13 Brunetto Latini, La rettorica, ed. Francesco Maggini (Florence: Le Monnier, 1968), 145–6 (l. 25; ll. 1–6). 14 Brunetto Latini, La rettorica, 146 (ll. 13–16). 15 Brunetto Latini, La rettorica, 147–8 (ll. 17–18, ll. 1–13). 16 See, in particular, Claudio Giunta, ‘Metro, forma e stile della tenzone,’ in Due saggi sulla tenzone (Rome and Padua: Antenore, 2002), 122–208. 17 See, for instance, Guelfo Taviani’s response to Cecco Angiolieri’s attack on Dante, ‘Cecco Angelier, tu mi pari un musardo’ (‘Cecco Angiolieri, you seem to be a fool’). Cecco addressed only Dante Alighieri with his sonnet and Taviani’s answer must have come as a surprise. The sonnets by Guelfo Taviani and Cecco Angiolieri are cited from Antonio Lanza, ed, Cecco Angiolieri: Le Rime. 18 See, for instance, Dante da Maiano’s response to Dante’s sonnet ‘A ciascun’alma presa e gentil cuore’ (‘To every captive soul and loving heart’), which begins ‘Di ciò che stato sè dimandatore’ (‘What you were asking about’). Da Maiano’s comic response is not consonant with the apparently serious opening of Dante’s sonnet. 19 See, for instance, Cecco Angiolieri’s ‘Dante Alighier, Cecco tu’ serv’e amico’ (‘Dante Alighieri, Cecco your servant and friend’), which ‘corrects’ Dante’s sonnet ‘Oltre la spera che più larga gira’ (‘Beyond the sphere that makes the widest round’). Nothing in Dante’s sonnet indicates that he wants anyone to answer him. 20 Claudio Giunta, Due saggi sulla tenzone, 124–5. 21 Francesco da Barberino, I documenti d’amore, ed. Francesco Egidi (Milan: Archè, 1982), 2:263.

Notes to pages 21–3

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22 Franco Suitner, La poesia satirica e giocosa nell’età dei comuni (Padua: Antenore, 1983), 11. 23 Chris Wickham, ‘Fama and the Law in Twelfth-Century Tuscany,’ in Fama: The Politics of Talk and Reputation in Medieval Europe, ed. Thelma Fenster and Daniel Lord Smail (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 2003), 19. 24 Paul Miller, ‘John Gower, Satiric Poet,’ in Gower’s ‘Confessio Amantis’: Responses and Reassessments, ed. A.J. Minnis (Cambridge: D.S. Brewer, 1983), 80–1. 25 Northrop Frye, Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1957), 225. 26 Judson Boyce Allen, The Ethical Poetic of the Later Middle Ages, 19–20. 27 Judson Boyce Allen, ‘Hermann the German’s Averroistic Aristotle and Medieval Poetic Theory,’ Mosaic 9 (1976): 68. ´ 28 Zygmunt G. Baranski, ‘“Tres enim sunt manerie dicendi …”: Some Observations on Medieval Literature, “Genre,” and Dante,’ Italianist 15, Supplement 2 (1995): 43. 29 Suzanne Reynolds, ‘Orazio satiro (Inferno IV, 89): Dante, the Roman Satirists, and the Medieval Theory of Satire,’ Italianist 15, Supplement 2 (1995): 132. 30 Rossella d’Alfonso, ‘“Comico” e “commedia”: Appunti sul titolo del poema dantesca,’ Filologia e critica 7 (1982): 19–20. 31 Vittorio Cian, La satira, vol. 1 (Milan: Vallardi, 1929), 136. 32 The little biographical information about Filippi that is available is extrapolated from documents regarding family members. Rustico’s father had died by 1238, establishing that year as an ante quem date for the poet’s birth; see Tommaso Casini, ‘Un poeta umorista del secolo XIII,’ in Studi danteschi (Città del Castello: Lapi, 1913), 230. Moreover, a Florentine document refers to his son as ‘Lippus quondam Rustici Filippi’ on 30 January 1299; Vincenzo Federici notes that scribes only used ‘quondam’ with the patronymic during the first five years following the death of one’s father. Thus, Rustico probably passed on during the latter half of the 1290s. See Vincenzo Federici, Le rime di Rustico di Filippo, rimatore fiorentino del sec. XIII (Bergamo: Arti Grafiche, 1899), xiv–xv. 33 Brunetto writes: ‘E ciò che scritto mando / È cagione, e dimando, / Che ti piaccia dittare / E me scritto mandare / Del tuo trovato addesso’ (‘And the cause for which I send you this writing / is that I ask / that it might please you to dictate / and to send to me / some of the poetry you are writing now’ (ll. 149–53). Cited from Brunetto Latini, ‘Il Favolello,’ in ‘Il Tesoretto’ e ‘Il Favolello’ (Strasburgo: J.H. Ed. Heitz, 1900). The translation is mine. The interpretation of Brunetto’s verse as indicating a new form of

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36

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Notes to page 23 poetry is from Maurizio Vitale, ed., Rimatori comico-realistici del Due e Trecento, 103. Ignazio Baldelli, Dante e i poeti fiorentini del Duecento (Florence: Le Monnier, 1968), 17–18. Giorgio Petrocchi, ‘I poeti realisti,’ in Storia della letteratura italiana, vol. 1, Le origini e il Duecento, ed. Emilio Cecchi and Natalino Sapegno (Milan: Garzanti, 1965), 690. Regarding the intentions of the Patristic writers, who used misogynistic descriptions to enforce monastic celibacy, see the following studies: Katharina M. Wilson and Elizabeth M. Makowski, Wykked Wyves and the Woes of Marriage: Misogamous Literature from Juvenal to Chaucer (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1990); Katharine M. Rogers, The Troublesome Helpmate: A History of Misogyny in Literature (Seattle and London: Washington University Press, 1966); and Ralph Hanna III and Traugott Lawler, eds. Jankyn’s Book of Wikked Wives, vol. 1, The Primary Texts (Athens and London: Georgia University Press, 1997). All of Rustico’s poetry is cited from Giuseppe Marrani, ed. and commentary, ‘Rustico Filippi: Sonetti,’ Studi di filologia italiana 57 (1999): 33–199; all translations of Rustico are mine. The study on imprecations by Salvatore Bongi may provide further information about the nature of Rustico’s insult: see Salvatore Bongi, Ingiurie improperi contumelie ecc.: Saggio di lingua parlata del Trecento cavato dai libri criminali di Lucca, ed. Daniela Marcheschi (Lucca: Maria Pacini Fazzi, 1983). Bongi examines threats and insults found in Lucchese legal documents of the fourteenth century in order to provide an overview of injurious language of the late Middle Ages. Although not perfectly applicable to a discussion of Rustico Filippi because it deals with Lucca of the Trecento, Bongi’s work nevertheless highlights the general oral culture in the Tuscany of the age. In several examples, women are accused of engaging in prostitution in stalls. In one instance, someone asserts: ‘Sossa puttana che tu se’, che non à stalla a Luccha che tue non abbi cercata per farti rimonare lo culo, che tu morrai melio alo spidale come fe’ tuo padre e fammi lo peggio che tu puoi’ (‘Dirty whore that you are, for there is no stall in Lucca that you haven’t sought out to work your ass, for you will die at the hospital like your father, and do the worst to me that you can!’) (par. 88, p. 36). Similarly, another woman is called a: ‘Sossa puttana, tingnosa stallaiola’ (‘Dirty whore, ringworm-ridden stall-vendor!’) (par. 120, p. 42). More generally, women are presented as prostituting themselves in rural contexts. Several are accused of pimping another in ditches and under bushes: ‘Soççe puctanelle, puctane ch’avete tenuto bordello ad

Notes to pages 24–7

38 39 40 41

42 43 44 45

46 47

48

49

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Marllia per le fosse e per le sciepi’ (‘Dirty whores – whores who have made a brothel for Marllia in the ditches and in the bushes’) (par. 51, p. 28). See, for example, his sonnet, ‘D’una diversa cosa ch’è aparita.’ See, for example, his sonnet ‘A voi, che ve ne andaste per paura.’ See, for example, ‘Fastel, messer Fastidio de la cazza,’ and ‘Una bestiola ho vista molto fera.’ For examples of Rustico’s derision of people’s hygiene, see ‘Al mio parer Teruccio non è grave,’ and ‘Quando egli apre la boc[c]a de la tomba.’ For petty household scandals, see ‘Oi dolce mio marito Aldobrandino.’ For squabbles, ‘Buono inconincio, ancora fosse veglio.’ Cited from Aldo Schiaffini, Lettura del ‘De vulgari eloquentia’ di Dante (Rome: Edizioni dell’Ateneo, 1958–59), 284–5. Aldo Francesco Massèra, Sonetti burleschi e realistici dei primi due secoli, 369. Vincenzo Federici, Le rime di Rustico di Filippo, 44. In 1257, for instance, the Pope invited the Florentine Ghibellines to send ambassadors to his residence in Viterbo in the hopes of negotiating an end to the interdiction of the Commune. See Robert Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 634–5 (vol. 2, pt. 2). See, for example, Rustico’s sonnet ‘Ne la stia mi par esser col leone.’ Mauro Cursietti, conversely, reads this statement as an indication that the woman is a prostitute; he suggests that Acerbo had journeyed to Bulicame, a location between Viterbo and Florence that was renowned for its prostitution. He bases his assertions on the belief that the names Tessa and Monna Tessa indicated prostitutes in the literature of the Tre- and Quattrocento. Yet Rustico neither explicitly calls her Tessa, nor overtly mentions Bulicame in his sonnet. See Mauro Cursietti, ‘Motti e facezie da Rustico Filippi al Burchiello,’ La parola del testo: Semestrale di filologia e letteratura italiana e comparata dal medioevo al rinascimento 7 (2003): 63–5. Jacques LeGoff, ‘Head or Heart? The Political Use of Body Metaphors in the Middle Ages,’ in Fragments for a History of the Human Body, vol. 3, ed. Michel Feher et al. (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1989), 16–17. See also John Van Engen, ‘Late Medieval Anticlericalism: The Case of the New Devout,’ in Anticlericalism in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe, ed. Peter A. Dykema and Heiko A. Oberman (Leiden, New York, Cologne: E.J. Brill, 1993), 21; and Georges Duby, ‘The Courtly Model,’ in A History of Women in the West, vol. 2, Silences of the Middle Ages, ed. Christiane KlapischeZuber (Cambridge, MA, and London: Belknap Press, 1992), 256. Giuseppe Marrani, ed. ‘Rustico Filippi: Sonetti,’ 133.

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Notes to pages 27–32

50 All citatations of the De vulgari eloquentia are from Dante Alighieri: Opere minori, vol. 3, pt. 1, De vulgari eloquentia, Monarchia, ed. Pier Vincenzo Mengaldo and Bruno Nardi (Milan and Naples: Ricciardi, 1995). 51 Pier Vincenzo Mengaldo, ed., Sonetti [di] Rustico Filippi (Turin: Einaudi, 1971), 56; Giuseppe Marrani, ed., ‘Rustico Filippi: Sonetti,’ 155. 52 Vincenzo Federici, Le rime di Rustico di Filippo, 48; Aldo Francesco Massèra, Sonetti burleschi e realistici dei primi due secoli, 370–1. 53 Giuseppe Marrani, ed., ‘Rustico Filippi: Sonetti,’ 155. 54 In another sonnet, furthermore, Rustico speaks candidly about a man being cold because his wife ignores him sexually. In ‘Se tu sia lieto di madonna Tana,’ he stresses that the wife of an unnamed third person is a whore (‘puttana,’ l. 3). He then notes that the man is freezing, and his nose runs constantly (‘Ch’egli è più freddo che detto non aggio: / non vedi come ’l naso il manofesta?’ ll. 9–10). 55 Mario Marti, ‘La coscienza stilistica di Rustico di Filippo e la sua poesia,’ in Cultura e stile nei poeti giocosi del tempo di Dante (Pisa: Nistri-Lischi, 1953), 42. 56 Francesco Bruni, ‘Tradizioni intermittenti, poesia “comica,” e letteratura didattica fra Due e Trecento,’ in Storia della civiltà letteraria italiana, vol. 1, pt. 1, ed. Giorgio Barberi-Squarotti (Turin: UTET, 1990), 523. 57 Currently Dante scholarship recognizes two different methods of identifying passages from Dante’s Vita Nuova: paragraphs, based on Barbi’s edition (La Vita Nuova, ed. Michele Barbi [Milan: Hoepli, 1907]); or chapters, based on Gorni’s edition (Vita Nova, ed. Guglielmo Gorni [Turin: Einaudi, 1996]). The episode under discussion is paragraph 8 (Barbi), or chapter 3 (Gorni). 58 Mario Pazzaglia, ‘Morte villana, di pietà nemica,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 3:1042. 59 All citations of the Vita Nuova are from Dante Alighieri, La Vita Nuova, ed. Domenico De Robertis (Milan and Naples: Ricciardi, 1980). All translations of the Vita Nuova are from Dante Alighieri, Vita Nuova: A Translation and Essay, ed. and trans. Mark Musa (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1973). 60 Maria Simonelli ‘Convivio,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 2:197. 61 Regarding Dante’s prophetic and biblical aims, see Lino Pertile, La puttana e il gigante: Dal Cantico dei Cantici al Paradiso Terrestre di Dante (Ravenna: Longo, 1998); and Giuseppe Mazzotta, Dante, Poet of the Desert: History and Allegory in the ‘Divine Comedy’ (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1979).

Notes to pages 33–5

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2 Ad personam, ad stipitem: Readings of the Sonnets 1 In the first modern study of the tenzone between Dante and Forese, Isidoro del Lungo, in fact, explicitly states his adherence to Ubaldini’s sequence. See Isidoro del Lungo, ‘La tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati,’ 439. 2 For the relationship between Vatican Latin Barberiniano 3999 and Chigiano L.VIII.305, see Michele Barbi, ‘Il codice Strozzi di rime antiche citato dall’Ubaldini e dalla Crusca,’ in Due noterelle dantesche (Florence: Carnesecchi, 1898), 13–18; for its relationship with Chigiano L.IV.131, see Michele Barbi, ‘Per un sonetto attribuito a Dante e per due codici di rime antiche,’ in Studi sul canzoniere di Dante (Florence: Sansoni, 1965), 505. 3 Readings of the correspondence as a unified, stable whole include the following: Piero Cudini, ‘La tenzone tra Dante e Forese e la Commedia (Inf. XXX; Purg. XXIII–XXIV),’ 4; Antonio Stäuble, ‘La tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati,’ Letture classensi 24 (1995): 157; and Domenico De Robertis, ‘Ancora per Dante e Forese Donati,’ 43. 4 All six sonnets of the tenzone are cited from Dante Alighieri, Rime, vol. 3, Testi, ed. Domenico De Robertis. My interventions appear in square brackets. 5 The translations of all six sonnets of the tenzone are cited from Kenneth Foster and Patrick Boyde, Dante’s Lyric Poetry, vol. 1, The Poems: Text and Translation. Foster and Boyde based their translations on Barbi’s lectiones; De Robertis’s lectiones are similar to Barbi’s, and therefore the translations are still quite accurate. My interventions in the translations appear in square brackets. 6 Domenico De Robertis, ‘Ancora per Dante e Forese,’ 42. De Robertis cites, in particular, the opening line of Guinizzelli’s sonnet ‘Chi vedesse a Lucia un var’ cappuzzo,’ and the fifth line of Filippi’s ‘Quando ser Pepo vede alcuna potta,’ which reads ‘Chi vedesse ser Pepo incavallare’ (and is described by editor Vincenzo Mengaldo as a typical comic incipit). See Vincenzo Mengaldo, ed., Sonetti [di] Rustico Filippi, 76. For examples of similar lines in Angiolieri’s poetry, see ‘Chi vol vantaggio aver a l’altre genti,’ ‘Chi non sente d’amor o tant’ o quanto,’ and ‘Qual uomo vuol purgar le sue peccata.’ 7 Francesco Filippini, ‘Il “nodo di Salomone” nella tenzone di Dante e Forese,’ Il giornale dantesco 25.1 (January–March 1922): 237. 8 Nancy Regalado, Poetic Patterns in Rutebeuf: A Study in Noncourtly Poetic Modes of the Thirteenth Century (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1970), 289. See also Bronislaw Geremek, Poverty: A History, trans. Agnieszka

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11 12 13

14 15 16

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Notes to pages 35–7 Kloakowska (Oxford and Cambridge: Blackwell, 1994), 27–32; and Michel Mollat, Études sur l’économie et la société de l’Occident médiéval XIIe–XVe siècle (London: Variorum Reprints, 1977), 5–23. Fredi Chiappelli, ‘Proposta d’interpretazione per la tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati,’ Giornale storico della letteratura italiana 142 (1966): 331. See Domenico Guerri, ‘Dante e Forese,’ in La corrente popolare nel rinascimento: Berte burle e baie nella Firenze del Brunellesco e del Burchiello (Florence: Sansoni, 1931), 106; and Guerri, ‘Ancora il “gagno” d’Alighieri,’ in Scritti danteschi e d’altra letteratura antica, ed. Antonio Lanza (Rome: De Rubeis, 1990), 343; Antonio Lanza, ‘Una volgare lite nella Firenze del primo quattrocento: La cosiddetta tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati: Nuovi contributi alla tesi di Domenico Guerri,’ in Polemiche e berte letterarie nella Firenze del primo Quattrocento (Rome: Bulzoni, 1971), 398. See the Conclusion for a response to this theory. Michele Barbi, ‘Tenzone con Forese Donati,’ 279n2. Marie-Thérèse d’Alverny, ‘Comment les théologiens et les philosophes voient la femme,’ Cahiers de civilisation médiévale 20 (1977): 124. For examples of studies in medieval attitudes towards marriage and sexuality, see Katharine M. Rogers, The Troublesome Helpmate: A History of Misogyny in Literature, 22; Eleanor Commo McLaughlin, ‘Equality of Souls, Inequality of Sexes: Woman in Medieval Theology,’ in Religion and Sexism: Images of Woman in the Jewish and Christian Traditions, ed. Rosemary Radford Ruether (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1974), 253. See also Ralph Hanna III and Traugott Lawler, eds., Jankyn’s Book of Wikked Wives, vol. 1, The Primary Texts (Athens and London: Georgia University Press, 1997); Katharina M. Wilson and Elizabeth M. Makowski, Wykked Wyves and the Woes of Marriage: Misogamous Literature from Juvenal to Chaucer (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1990). Katharine M. Rogers, The Troublesome Helpmate: A History of Misogyny in Literature, 98. Gianfranco Contini and Domenico De Robertis, eds., Dante Alighieri: Opere minori, vol. 1, pt. 1, Vita Nuova, Rime, 369. See Robert Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, vol. 2, pt. 1. According to Davidsohn, the Counts Guidi traditionally held a castle outside of Cortona named Cicogna (108). They received many Tuscan Ghibellines and many of the fiercest battles with the Guelphs occurred on their lands (547–9). Thanks to their efforts, Arezzo became the stronghold of the Tuscan Ghibellines (612). Katharine M. Rogers, The Troublesome Helpmate: A History of Misogyny in Literature, 88–94.

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18 Daniel Waley, The Italian City-Republics, 202. 19 Ernesto Sestan, ‘Dante e i Conti Guidi,’ in Italia medievale (Naples: Edizioni scientifiche italiane, 1968), 344. 20 Mario Marti, ‘Verso il “realismo”: La tenzone e le pietrose,’ in Dante, Boccaccio, Leopardi (Napoli: Liguori, 1980), 21. 21 This verse is problematic because it is hypometric in Chigiano L.VIII.305, the manuscript that is the basis for most editions of the tenzone between Dante and Forese. Most editors correct it with a conjecture based upon the sixteenth-century manuscript Crusca 53 (Crusca 53: ‘ma inconinente che fo di fui mosso’). However, Crusca 53 is itself problematic, as it is related to Chigiano L.VIII.305 – possibly even derived from it. In the future, editors may want to consider adopting the lectio from either Banco Rari 69 or Trivulziano 1058, which are consistent with one another and are perfect hendecasyllables (Banco Rari 69: ‘ma incontinente leuato i fui mosso’; Trivulziano 1058: ‘ma incontanenti leuato yo fo mosso’). 22 Regarding the literary self-portraits of the goliards, see Jill Mann, ‘Satiric Subject and Satiric Object in Goliardic Literature,’ Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 15 (1980): 64. See also Douglas R. Butturff, ‘Audience Attitudes and the Shaping of the Archpoet’s Satire,’ Classical Folia 31.1 (1977): 29–40. Regarding Cecco Angiolieri’s poetic persona, moreover, Peter Dronke, for instance, speaks about his self-presentation as a ‘sophisticated comic mask.’ See Peter Dronke, The Medieval Lyric (London: Hutchinson, 1968), 161. 23 See, for instance, Dante’s critique of the merchants because they depend upon fortune for their wealth, in Convivio IV.xi.6–8. 24 Michele Barbi, ‘Tenzone con Forese Donati,’ 291–4. 25 Francesco Filippini believed that the knot connoted heresy. In the early 1280s, the inquisitor Salomone of Lucca presided over the trials of Florentine heretics – perhaps Forese accuses Alighiero of heresy (Francesco Filippini, ‘Il “nodo di Salomone” nella tenzone di Dante e Forese,’ 237). Michele Barbi objected to Filippini’s interpretation by noting that convicted heretics had their goods confiscated, and Dante inherited his father’s possessions as a young man (Michele Barbi, ‘Tenzone con Forese Donati,’ 306). Given the economic overtones of the sonnet, perhaps Dante’s father died indebted to a Jewish lender (Domenico Guerri, ‘Dante e Forese,’ in La corrente popolare nel rinascimento, 129). Cono Mangieri proposes that Solomon’s knot may have been a type of slipknot, and that the scene in question may be one of summary justice similar to a lynching (Cono Mangieri, ‘Gentucca … figlia spuria di Dante?’ Available at Progetto Dante Alighieri, dir. Giuseppe Bonghi, http://www.classicitaliani.it/ index042.htm). Eugenio Chiarini, moreover, suggests that Forese chastises

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30 31 32 33 34

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Notes to pages 40–4 Dante, and not Alighiero, and possibly alludes to the unavenged murder of Geri del Bello (Eugenio Chiarini, ‘L’altra notte mi venne una gran tosse,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 3:555). Cited from Giosuè Carducci, Cantilene e ballate strambotti e madrigali nei secoli XIII e XIV (Pisa: Nistri, 1871), 113–14. The translation is mine. Cited from Ser Lapo Mazzei, Lettere di un notaro a un mercante del secolo XIV con altre lettere e documenti, vol. 1, ed. Cesare Guasti (Florence: Le Monnier, 1880), 342–3 (letter CCXXX; the translation is mine). Both citations are from Vocabolario degli Accademici della Crusca (Verona: Dionigi Ramanzini, 1806), 4:273. The translations are mine. Paolo Cherchi found a reference to the pentacle in the English poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (ll. 619–39). It calls the geometrical symbol the infinite knot and describes it as having been invented by the Old Testament king Solomon; the pentacle is an emblem on Sir Gawain’s shield that represents his faithfulness. Paolo Cherchi, ‘Pentangulo, Nodo di Salomone, Pentacolo,’ Lingua Nostra 39.2–3 (June–September 1978): 33–6. In contrast to Paolo Cherchi’s pentagram, Umberto Sansoni believes ‘Solomon’s knot’ to be a loose knot with points in four directions, resulting in a type of cross (Umberto Sansoni, Il nodo di Salomone: Simbolo e archetipo d’alleanza [Milan: Electa, 1998], 14). Michele Barbi, ‘La tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati,’ 137–8. Andrew Cowell, At Play in the Tavern: Signs, Coins, and Bodies in the Middle Ages (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1999), 1. Andrew Cowell, At Play in the Tavern, 6–8. Andrew Cowell, At Play in the Tavern, 89, As an example of how the culture during Dante’s lifetime further comprehended the vice, the definition proffered by the fourteenth-century commentator on the Commedia, Guido da Pisa, will be examined. In his discussion of Inferno VI, Guido writes: ‘Circa prima sciendum est quod gula est immoderatus edendi et bibendi appetitus’ (‘Regarding the first, it should be known that gluttony is the immoderate appetite in eating and in drinking’). Guido apparently reflects a view common during the thirteenth century that the vice of gluttony generally encompassed two different activities: overeating and inebriation. Guido da Pisa’s comments are cited from his Expositiones et Glose super Comediam Dantis, or Commentary on Dante’s ‘Inferno,’ ed. Vincenzo Cioffari (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1974), 125. Edward G. Fichtner, ‘The Etymology of Goliard,’ Neophilologus 51 (1967): 230–7; and Vincenzo Crescini, ‘Appunti su l’etimologia di “goliardo,”’ Atti del Reale Istituto Veneto di scienze, lettere, ed arti 79 (1920): 1079–1128.

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36 James A.S. McPeek, ‘Chaucer and the Goliards,’ Speculum 26.2 (April 1951): 334. 37 Martha Bayless, Parody in the Middle Ages: The Latin Tradition (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1996), 94. 38 Martha Bayless, Parody in the Middle Ages, 95–101. 39 Uguccione of Pisa writes: ‘Differunt tragedia et comedia, quia comedia privatorum hominum continet facta, tragedia regum et magnatum’ (‘Tragedy and comedy differ from one another because comedy contains facts about private individuals, while tragedy speaks of kings and magnates’). Uguccione is cited from Alfredo Schiaffini, Lettura del ‘De vulgari eloquentia’ di Dante, 283. 40 See the heading ‘novello’ in the Vocabolario degli Accademici della Crusca, 4:283. 41 Renato Piattoli, ‘Donati,’ 556. 42 Michele Barbi, ‘Tenzone con Forese Donati,’ 319. Barbi cites the passage from the Archivio Storico Fiorentino, Or San Michele 31 gennaio 1294, Santa Maria Novella 27 maggio 1316, as reading: ‘Ursus e Forensis fratres filii q. Andree vocati Biccicocchi de Donatis’ (‘Ursus and Forese, sons of the late Andrea called Biccicocco of the Donatis’). 43 Piero Boitani, Dante’s Poetry of the Donati (Leeds: Maney, 2007), 23. 44 Michele Barbi, ‘Tenzone con Forese Donati,’ 293. 45 Marvin B. Becker, ‘A Study in Political Failure: The Florentine Magnates (1280–1343),’ 115. See also Dino Compagni, Cronica, I.xi–xii. 46 Susan Noakes points out that Dante and Forese came of age as labels of ‘magnate,’ ‘noble,’ and ‘merchant’ were being challenged. Susan Noakes, ‘Virility, Nobility, and Banking: The Crossing of Discourses in the Tenzone with Forese,’ in Dante for the New Millennium, ed. Teodolinda Barolini and H. Wayne Storey (New York: Fordham University Press, 2003), 250. 47 Domenico Guerri claims to have found a reference to a family named ‘Fidistagno’ in an archival document of 1406–7; see his La corrente popolare nel rinascimento: Berte burle e baie nella Firenze del Brunellesco e del Burchiello, 108. Yet Guerri’s apparent discovery is based on a misreading. Examination of the archive in question – Atti criminali del Potestà, manuscript 4153, in the Archivio di Stato di Firenze – identifies the two individuals accused of rioting not as ‘Fidistagno’ but as the sons of Stefano, who was nicknamed Fitagno. The expression ‘Stephanj vocati fitagno’ is used repeatedly throughout the trial, the notes of which are contained in folios 7r–14v. Several references to ‘Stephanj vocati fitagno’ can be found on f. 7r, and again on f. 13r. 48 Michele Barbi, ‘Tenzone con Forese Donati,’ 321.

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49 Paola Foschi, ‘Nuovi documenti per una storia della vita nella montagna bolognese nel medioevo,’ in Villaggi, boschi e campi nell’Appennino dal Medioevo all’Età contemporanea: Atti delle giornate di studio (21 luglio, 6 agosto, 14 settembre, 17 novembre 1996) (Pistoia: Gruppo di studi alta valle del Reno, 1997), 34. 50 David Herlihy, Medieval and Renaissance Pistoia: The Social History of an Italian Town, 1200–1430 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1967), 29–31. 51 Paola Foschi, ‘La viabilità tra Pistoia e Bologna attraverso la Sambuca del Medioevo,’ in La Sambuca Pistoiese: Una Comunità dell’Appennnino al confine tra Pistoia e Bologna (1291–1991): Atti del Convegno della Sambuca Pistoiese, 24–25 agosto 1991 (Pistoia: Società Pistoiese di Storia Patria 1992), 19–41 52 Girolamo Ganucci Cancellieri, Pistoia nel XIII secolo: Saggio storico sulla stirpe dei Cancellieri di Pistoia (Florence: Olschki, 1975), 130. 53 Giovanni Cherubini, ‘Lo statuto della Sambuca Pistoiese un comune dell’Appennino nel XIII secolo,’ in La Sambuca Pistoiese: Una Comunità dell’Appennnino al confine tra Pistoia e Bologna (1291–1991): Atti del Convegno della Sambuca Pistoiese, 24–25 agosto 1991 (Pistoia: Società Pistoiese di Storia Patria 1992), 8. 54 Paolo Edlmann, Signoria dei Conti Alberti su Vernio e l’Appennino (Bologna: Forni, 1976), 84–5. See also Paolo Pirillo, ‘Il popolamento dell’appennino fiorentino nella crisi trecentesca: Il caso della Contea di Mangona,’ in Villaggi, boschi e campi nell’Appennino dal Medioevo all’Età contemporanea: Atti delle giornate di studio (21 luglio, 6 agosto, 14 settembre, 17 novembre 1996) (Pistoia: Gruppo di studi alta valle del Reno, 1997), 65. 55 In his 2002 edition of Dante’s lyrics, Domenico De Robertis divides the last word of the line as ‘far sata.’ He offers no explanation for doing so, and both of the source manuscripts transcribe it as one word. But in his 2005 edition of the lyrics, Domenico De Robertis transcribes it as one word, ‘farsata.’ Again, he offers no explanation. See Domenico De Robertis, ed., Dante Alighieri: Rime (Florence: Le Lettere, 2002), 3:459; and Domenico De Robertis, ed., Dante Alighieri: Rime (Florence: Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2005), 468. 56 The second person is implied in Forese’s language, but not outwardly stated. It is possible to read his utterance, however, as a third-person statement: ‘And already I seem to see, sitting at table, one of three, an Alighieri with nothing on but a doublet.’ 57 Fabian Alfie, ‘Poetry and Poverty: Cecco Angiolieri’s Position in the Evolution of a Vernacular Trope,’ in Comedy and Culture: Cecco Angiolieri’s Poetry and Late Medieval Society, 84–113.

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58 Martha Bayless, Parody in the Middle Ages: The Latin Tradition, 94. 59 Robert Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 1:872. See also Giovanni Ciappelli, Una famiglia e le sue ricordanze: I Castellani di Firenze nel Tre-Quattrocento (Florence: Olschki, 1995), 10. 60 Robert Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 6:78. 61 Robert Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 6:462. 62 Giovanni Ciappelli, Una famiglia e le sue ricordanze: I Castellani nel TreQuattrocento, 11. 63 Michele Barbi, ‘Tenzone con Forese Donati,’ 238. 64 The Vocabolario degli Accademici della Crusca defines ‘grembiata’ precisely as: ‘That amount which can be contained in an apron’ (‘Tanto, quanto può capire nel grembiule’) (3:319). 65 Ernst Robert Curtius, European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages, trans. Willard R. Trask (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1973), 431. 66 Early scholarship on the tenzone had no knowledge about this individual. Michele Barbi, for instance, merely had suppositions about the identity of Belluzzo; see Barbi, ‘Ancora della tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati,’ 71. Subsequently, some documents have surfaced referring to him as the son of Bellincione. One Pratese document, dated 29 May 1246 mentions him: ‘[…] ante domum Accordi Segadoris, presentibus Benentendi Guitti, Mangialoga Arlozzi, Belluzzo f. Bellincionis et Buccho f. d. Lambertini’ (‘before the house of Accordo Segadoris, are present Benentendi Guitti, Mangialoga Arlozzi, Belluzzo f. [son of] Bellincione and Buccho f. [son of] d. Lambertini;’ see Renato Piattoli, ed., Codice diplomatico dantesco, par. 20, p. 22. Another Pratese document, dated 21 November 1270, lists him as: ‘Belluzzium f. Bellincionis;’ see Piattoli, ed., Codice diplomatico dantesco, par. 38, p. 39. 67 Many scholars consider Francesco and Gaetana (Tana) to both be Dante’s half-siblings, born to his father’s second wife. Giuseppe Indizio, however, published a document which implies that they had different mothers. In a statement dated 1320, they are referred to as siblings born of the same father (‘Francisci […] fratris sui, ex eodem patre nati’). Such a specification implies that they did not share the same mother. See Giuseppe Indizio, ‘Tana Alighieri sorella di Dante,’ Studi danteschi 75 (2000): 175. 68 Philip Jones, The Italian City-State: From Commune to Signoria, 313–15. 69 Cono Mangieri, ‘Gentucca Dantesca e dintorni,’ Italian Quarterly 32.125–6 (Summer–Fall 1995): 12. 70 ‘Farsata,’ ‘Farsetto,’ Vocabolario degli Accademici della Crusca, 3:121–2. 71 In the Burchiello edition, the sonnet ‘Bicci novel, figliuol di non so cui’ has two unusual characteristics. Its third verse reads: ‘Giù per la gola tanta

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Notes to pages 52–8 rema ha messa.’ The lexeme rema (‘rheum’) suggests Forese’s illness rather than gluttony. The sonnet closes with the line: ‘san dopo morte dove gli hanno andare,’ suggesting punishment in the afterlife. Piero Cudini, ‘La tenzone tra Dante e Forese e la Commedia (Inf. XXX; Purg. XXIII–XXIV),’ 6–7. For examples of scholars who propose that Forese had been branded, see the following: Domenico De Robertis and Gianfranco Contini, eds., Dante Alighieri: Opere minori, vol. 1, pt. 1, Vita Nuova, Rime, 377; Michele Barbi, ‘Tenzone con Forese Donati,’ 355–6; and Adolfo Jenni, ‘Donati, Forese,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 2:561. Vittorio Russo, ‘Pg. XXIII: Forese, o la maschera del discorso,’ MLN 94.1 (January 1979): 129. See also Piero Cudini, ‘La tenzone tra Dante e Forese e la Commedia (Inf. XXX; Purg. XXIII–XXIV),’ 18–19. Michele Barbi cites a Bolognese juridical document of 1284, in which a man is recognized as a thief (‘Dicit etiam eum esse latronem publicum et famosum’). See Michele Barbi, ‘Tenzone con Forese Donati,’ 347. Eugenio Ragni, ‘Donati, Cianfa,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 2:558. Eugenio Ragni, ‘Buoso,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 1:726–7. See also Michele Barbi, ‘A proposito di Buoso Donati ricordato nel canto XXX dell’Inferno,’ 305–22. Marvin B. Becker, ‘A Study in Political Failure: The Florentine Magnates (1280–1343),’ 96. Renato Piattoli, ‘Alighieri, Geri,’ Enciclopedia dantesca, 1:141. Renato Piattoli, ‘Donati,’ Enciclopedia dantesca, 2:555. For instances of donkeys used to connote the lowborn, see Cecco Angiolieri’s sonnet ‘Se di Becchina ’l cor fosse diamante’ (‘If Becchina’s heart were of diamond’), ll. 6–7, Bindo Bonichi’s sonnet ‘Gli asin del mondo sono i mercatanti’ (‘The asses in the world are merchants’), and Lapo Gianni’s sonnet ‘Pelle chiabelle di Dio, no ci arvai’ (‘By God’s nails, you won’t go back’), l. 12. Cecco Angiolieri and Lapo Gianni are cited from Cecco Angiolieri, Le Rime, ed. Antonio Lanza (Rome: Guido Izzi, 1990); Bindo Bonichi is cited from Rime di Bindo Bonichi da Siena edite ed inedite, ed. Francesco Zambrini (Bologna: Commissione per i testi di lingua, 1977). See Francesco Novati, Carmina Medii Aevi (Florence: Alla Libreria Dante, 1883). Francesco Bruni. ‘Centri di cultura nel medioevo: L’Italia Settentrionale,’ in Storia della civiltà letteraria italiana, vol. 1, Dalle origini al Trecento, pt. 2 (Turin: UTET, 1990), 629. Marvin B. Becker, ‘A Study in Political Failure: The Florentine Magnates (1280–1343),’ 94–159.

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85 Giorgio Barberi-Squarotti, ‘La letteratura volgare del Trecento nella Toscana e nell’Umbria,’ in Storia della Civiltà letteraria italiana, vol. 1, pt. 2, Dalle origini al Trecento (Turin: UTET, 1990): 709. 86 In the Quaresimale fiorentino of 1305–6, Giordano writes: ‘I mercatanti, quando vogliono mettere ragione, sì hanno i quarteruoli overo petruze overo fave’ (‘The merchants, when they want to settle accounts, have tokens or small stones or beans’). Cited from Giordano da Rivalto, Quaresimale fiorentino, 1305–1306, ed. Carlo Delcorno (Florence: Sansoni, 1974), 362. 87 The entry for millet (‘panico’) in the Vocabolario degli Accademici della Crusca reads simply: ‘Biada minutissima, e nota’ (‘extremely small and familiar grain’). See Vocabolario degli Accademici della Crusca, 5:20. 3 Hellish Echoes: Reminiscences of the Correspondence in Inferno XXIX and XXX 1 Domenico De Robertis and Gianfranco Contini, eds., Dante Alighieri: Opere minori, vol. 1, pt. 1, Vita Nuova, Rime, 369n4. 2 For the debate about the attribution of the epistle to Cangrande, see Enzo Cecchini, ed., Epistola a Cangrande (Prato: Giunti, 1995), xii–xxv. See also Robert Hollander, Dante’s Epistle to Cangrande (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1993). 3 Interestingly, Federigo Ubaldini cites the incipit in a manner never seen before, indeed not even as he himself transcribes it just pages later in the manuscript (see the appendix for Ubaldini’s transcriptions of the sonnets). 4 Ernest Hatch Wilkins, ‘Reminiscence and Anticipation in the Divine Comedy,’ Dante Studies 118 (2000): 95–6. 5 Giovanni Niccolai, ‘Il Canto delle “ombre triste smozzicate,”’ in Lectura Dantis internazionale: Letture dell’ ‘Inferno,’ ed. Vittorio Vettori (Milan: Marzorati, 1963), 230–42. 6 Michele Scherillo, ‘Geri del Bello,’ in Alcuni capitoli della biografia di Dante, 105. 7 Michele Scherillo, ‘Geri del Bello,’ 105. 8 [n.a.] ‘Dito,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 2:519–20. 9 Henry writes: ‘Gentibus obprobrium sum crebraque fabula vulgi; / Dedecus agnoscit tuta platea meum / Me digito monstrant, subsannant dentibus omnes, / Ut monstrum monstror dedecorosus ego. / Mordeor obprobriis: de me mala cantica cantat / Vulgus, et horrendus sum sibi psalmus ego’ (bk. 1, ll. 5–10; emphases added). (I am the opprobrium of the people, and I am the continual talk of the crowd, / The whole piazza

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Notes to pages 67–72 knows of my shame, / They point me out with a finger, and with their teeth they deride me; / I, shameful me, am pointed at like a marvel; / I am bitten by shame: the people sing evil songs about me / And I am to them a horrendous psalm). Henry of Settimello is cited from ‘Arrigo da Settimello,’ in La letteratura italiana: Storia e testi, vol. 1, Le origini (Milan and Naples: Ricciardi, 1965), 708. The translation of Henry is mine. In Lippo Pasci de’ Bardi’s ‘Io vorrei k’un segno avvenenato,’ he wishes that those who go off to drink would be pointed out: ‘e mostr’ a dito que’ ke vanno a bere’ (l. 4). In his sonnet ‘Un danaio, non che far cottardita,’ Cecco Angiolieri enumerates the torments of destitution, including: ‘ch’andando per la via ogn’uom m’addita’ (‘for walking down the street, every man points at me,’ l. 8). In another sonnet, ‘Se l’omo avesse ’n sé conoscimento,’ Cecco envisions the benefits of regaining his wealth: ‘e non sia per alcun mostrato a dito’ (‘and I will not be pointed at with a finger,’ l. 10). Pieraccio Tedaldi similarly describes the ill effects of poverty in ‘Omè, che io mi sento sì smarrito,’ claiming: ‘e se io parlo, i’ son mostrato a dito’ (‘and if I speak, I am pointed at with a finger,’ l. 5). Lippo Pasci de’ Bardi is cited from Gianfranco Contini, ed., Poeti del Duecento (Milan and Naples: Ricciardi, 1960), 2:781–6. Pieraccio Tedaldi is cited from Maurizio Vitale, ed., Rimatori comico-realistici del Due e Trecento, 691–749. John Larner, ‘La nobiltà,’ 152–3. Natalino Sapegno, ‘Canto XXIX,’ in Letture dantesche, vol. 1, Inferno, ed. Giovanni Getto (Florence: Sansoni, 1967), 571–2. Marvin B. Becker, ‘A Study in Political Failure: The Florentine Magnates (1280–1343),’ 94–125. Natalino Sapegno, ‘Canto XXIX,’ 577. Franco Suitner, ‘Dante e la poesia satirica del suo tempo,’ 66–7. Pier Vincenzo Mengaldo, ‘Stili, dottrina degli,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 5:435. Franco Suitner, La poesia satirica e giocosa nell’età dei comuni, 17. For a full discussion of the term ‘jocosus’ in relationship to the medieval comic style, see Mario Marti, ‘Discussioni, conferme, correzioni sui poeti giocosi,’ in Realismo dantesco e altri studi (Milan and Naples: Ricciardi, 1961), 156–86. Francesco da Buti, for instance, writes: ‘faceano friggere i fiorini.’ Regarding the current canto of Inferno, the commentators Francesco da Buti, Benvenuto da Imola, Cristoforo Landino, and the author of the Selmiano gloss are cited from G. Biagi, ed., ‘La Divina Commedia’ nella figurazione artistica e nel secolare commento, vol. 1, Inferno, 702–5.

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20 For example, Benvenuto da Imola writes: ‘Quorum primum colligebatur per domicellos, discumbentibus conviviis nobilibus, et cum omnibus jocalibus, vasis, cultellis aureis et argenteis, projiciebatur per fenestram.’ 21 Cristoforo Landino writes: ‘Alquanti dicono che facevono cuocere gl’arrosti a bracia di garofani arsi.’ 22 For example, Dante’s son Pietro writes: ‘qui faciebat assari capones ad prunas garofanorum.’ Pietro Alighieri, Comentum super poema Comedie Dantis: A Critical Edition of the Third and Final Draft of Pietro Alighieri’s ‘Commentary’ on Dante’s ‘Divine Comedy,’ ed. Massimiliano Chiamenti (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2002), 251. 23 For identification of the three individuals named by Dante, see Bartolomeo Aquarone, ‘Inferno XIII, XXIX,’ in Dante in Siena ovvero accenni nella ‘Divina Commedia’ a cose sanesi (Città di Castello: Lapi, 1889), 37–9. For more historical information on the so-called ‘crew of spendthrifts’ (‘brigata spendereccia’), see Eugenio Ragni, ‘Brigata spendereccia,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 1:699–700; and Paget Toynbee, ‘Brigata spendereccia,’ in Concise Dictionary of Proper Names and Notable Matters in the Works of Dante (New York: Phaeton Press, 1968), 92. 24 Rachel Jacoff, ‘Transgression and Transcendence: Figures of Female Desire in Dante’s Commedia,’ Romanic Review 79.1 (January 1988): 135. 25 Ernesto Sestan, ‘Dante e i Conti Guidi,’ 344. 26 Ernesto Sestan, ‘I Conti Guidi e il Casentino,’ in Italia medievale (Naples: Edizioni scientifiche italiane, 1968), 356–78. 27 Cited from Piero Cudini, ‘La tenzone tra Dante e Forese e la Commedia (Inf. XXX; Purg. XXIII–XXIV),’ 13. 28 Vittorio Vettori, ‘Il Canto di Maestro Adamo,’ in Lectura Dantis internazionale: Letture dell’ ‘Inferno,’ ed. Vettori (Milan: Marzorati, 1963), 260. 29 Rocco Montano, ‘L’episodio dei barattieri e lo stile comico,’ in Storia della poesia di Dante, vol. 1 (Florence: Olschki, 1965), 496–500. 30 Robert M. Durling, ‘Dante among the Falsifiers,’ in Lectura Dantis: ‘Inferno,’ ed. Mandelbaum et al. (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1998), 402. 31 Carla Casagrande and Silvana Vecchio, I peccati della lingua: Disciplina ed etica della parola nella cultura medievale (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1987), 296–7. 32 Claudio Giunta, Due saggi sulla tenzone, 124–5. 33 Nino Pirotta, ‘Ars nova e Stil novo,’ Rivista italiana di musicologia 1 (1966): 3–19; and Nino Pirotta, ‘Poesia e musica,’ Letture classensi 16 (1987): 153–62.

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34 Edoardo Sanguineti. ‘Infernal Acoustics: Sacred Song and Earthly Song,’ Lectura Dantis 6 (Spring 1990): 70. 35 Apparent confirmation of the instrumentation suggested by Inferno XXX comes from Boccaccio’s Decameron. At the end of Day V, Dioneo offers to sing several scandalous songs, adding that if he had a tambourine he would sing several others (Day V conclusion, l. 9). At another instance, Dioneo plays the lute (Day I conclusion, l.16). For information on the musical references in the Decameron, see Howard Mayer Brown, ‘Fantasia on a Theme by Boccaccio,’ Early Music 5.3 (July 1977): 324–39; see also W. Thomas Marrocco, ‘Music and Dance in Boccaccio’s Time: Part I, Fact and Speculation,’ Dante Research Journal 10.2 (Spring–Summer 1978): 19–22. Regarding stringed instruments, please note also the nickname of the poet Cenne da la Chitarra, which would seem to reinforce the impression of Mastro Adamo described as a lute. 36 For the interpretation of the verse as the repudiation of the comic poetics, see [n.a.] ‘Basso,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 1:531. 37 Claude Perrus notes the similarity between Virgil’s assertion and a statement by Saint Bernard: ‘Audire quod turpe est, pudori maximo est.’ See Claude Perrus, ‘Canto XXX,’ in Lectura Dantis Turicensis, vol. 1, Inferno, ed. Georges Güntert and Michelangelo Picone (Florence: Cesati, 2000), 435. 38 Umberto Bosco, ‘La decima bolgia,’ Letture classensi 4 (1975): 223–4. 39 Emilio Bigi, ‘Il canto XXX,’ in Antologia della critica dantesca, ed. Umberto Bosco and Giovanni Iorio (Milan: Principato, 1971), 1:532. 4 The Terrace of the Tenzone: Purgatorio XXIII and XXIV 1 Attilio Momigliano, ‘Un apocrifo di Dante?’ in Elzeviri (Florence: Felice Le Monnier, 1945), 39–44; Piero Cudini, ‘La tenzone tra Dante e Forese e la Commedia (Inf. XXX; Purg. XXIII–XXIV),’ 20–3; Vittorio Russo, ‘Pg. XXIII: Forese, o la maschera del discorso,’ 126–8. 2 Jacopo della Lana writes: ‘fo un Bonaçunta Orbiçani da Luca disidore in rima e corrotto molto in il vizio della gola; e ça ave’ alcuna dommestigheça cum l’autore, e visitònse insieme con sonetti.’ (‘he was one Bonaçunta Orbiçani from Lucca, a speaker in rhymes and very corrupted in the vice of the throat, and he had some familiarity with Dante, and they addressed one another in sonnets’). Jacopo della Lana is cited from Biagi et al., eds., ‘La Divina Commedia’ nella figurazione artistica e nel secolare commento, vol. 2, Purgatorio, 491. The translations of all the commentaries below are mine. 3 The ‘anonimo fiorentino’ writes: ‘Fu ser Bonagiunta degli Orbiciani da Lucca, et fu dicitore in rima, e fra gli altri di quel tempo famoso. Non era

Notes to pages 83–4

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allora in uso di parlare in rima leggiadro et pulito al modo d’oggi: et quelli che prima innovò lo stile, et parlò leggiadro et adorno, fu messer Guido Guinicegli da Bologna: onde il detto ser Bonagiunta, o che gli piacesse che messer Guido avessi errato, o che invidia il movesse, gli scrisse et ripreselo in questa forma: Poi che avete imitata la maniera [sic] […]’ (‘He was Sir Bonagiunta of the Orbiciani from Lucca, and he was a speaker in rhyme, and among others he was famous in that time. There was not then the use of speaking in a beautiful and polished style in rhyme as there is now: and the one who first innovated the style, and spoke beautifully and with adornments, was messer Guido Guinicegli from Bologna: whence the said Sir Bonagiunta, either because it pleased him that messer Guido had erred, or because envy moved him, wrote to him and reproved him in this form: Since you have imitated the style [sic] […]’). Cited from Pietro Fanfani, ed., Commento alla ‘Divina Commedia’ d’anonimo fiorentino, 2:389. Claudio Giunta dedicates a book to the literary relationships between Guido and Bonagiunta, and argues that their tenzone was only part of a much larger picture. The two poets, Giunta concludes, did not contradict one another, but differed only slightly in their views of love poetry. They both had strong links to their predecessors in the Sicilian school; their tenzone merely interrupted – if it could be said to interrupt at all – their common objective of moving poetry away from the literary example set by Guittone d’Arezzo. See Claudio Giunta, La poesia italiana nell’età di Dante: La linea Bonagiunta-Guinizzelli (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1998), 201. Claudio Giunta, La poesia italiana nell’età di Dante, 75–7. Claudio Giunta, La poesia italiana nell’età di Dante, 82–4. Carla Casagrande and Silvana Vecchio, I peccati della lingua: Disciplina ed etica della parola nella cultura medievale, 1–2. Carla Casagrande and Silvana Vecchio, I peccati della lingua, 122–3. Edwin D. Craun, Lies, Slander, and Obscenity in Medieval English Literature: Pastoral Rhetoric and the Deviant Speaker (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 16–18. Carla Casagrande and Silvana Vecchio, I peccati della lingua, 132–3, 142. Carla Casagrande and Silvana Vecchio, I peccati della lingua, 291. Quotations from the Bible in Latin are taken from the Biblia sacra iuxta latinam vulgatam versionem ad codicum fidem, vol. 10 (Rome: Typis Polyglottis Vaticanis, 1953). Translations into English are taken from the DouayRheims edition (London: Catholic Truth Society, 1963). Judson Boyce Allen, The Ethical Poetic of the Later Middle Ages: A Decorum of Convenient Distinction, 18–20. The passage is cited from p. 20. Judson Boyce Allen, The Ethical Poetic of the Later Middle Ages, 20.

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Notes to pages 84–93 Paul Miller, ‘John Gower, Satiric Poet,’ 80–1. Carla Casagrande and Silvana Vecchio, I peccati della lingua, 163. Vittorio Russo, ‘Pg. XXIII: Forese, o la maschera del discorso,’ 129. Bruna Cordati Martinelli, ‘Contendere,’ in Enciclopedia dantesca, 2:171. Ronald L. Martinez discusses the canto in light of the fact that Dante personally attended upon Forese’s deathbed and exequies, noting the repeated referents to the Offices of the Dead and the Book of Job throughout the episode. See Ronald L. Martinez, ‘Dante’s Forese, the Book of Job, and the Office of the Dead: A Note on Purgatorio 23,’ Dante Studies 120 (2002): 1–16. Brunetto Latini, La rettorica, 147–8. Rinaldina Russell interprets the praiseworthy women of Purgatorio XXIII, of whom Nella is exemplary, as its heroes. See Rinaldina Russell, ‘Canto XXIII: Reading Literary and Ethical Choices,’ in Lectura Dantis: ‘Purgatorio’: A Canto-by-Canto Commentary, ed. Mandelbaum et al. (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 2008), 255. For instance, Ciro Tribalza characterizes canto XXIII as a palinode for the tenzone, claiming that Dante expresses remorse therein for the licentiousness and dissipation of the poetic exchange. Ciro Tribalza, ‘Canto XXIII,’ in Letture dantesche, vol. 2, Purgatorio, ed. Giovanni Getto (Florence: Sansoni, 1965), 1148. Benedetto Croce, La poesia di Dante (Bari: Laterza, 1921), 123. Catherine Kovesi Killerby, Sumptuary Law in Italy, 1200–1500 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2002), 80–9. JoAnn Cavallo, ‘Purgatorio XXIV,’ Lectura Dantis (Virginiana) 12, Supplement (Spring 1993): 358. Gary Cestaro, ‘“… quanquam Sarnum biberimus ante dentes …”: The Primal Scene of Suckling in Dante’s De vulgari eloquentia,’ Dante Studies 109 (1991): 129. Gary P. Cestaro, Dante and the Grammar of the Nursing Body (Notre Dame: Notre Dame University Press, 2003), 9–45. Piero Boitani sees a similarity among all the appearances of the Donati in the Comedy. When they are present, he writes, Dante explores a theme of transformation. See Piero Boitani, Dante’s Poetry of the Donati, 13. Cited from Pietro Alighieri, Comentum super poema ‘Comedie’ Dantis: A Critical Edition of the Third and Final Draft of Pietro Alighieri’s ‘Commentary’ on Dante’s ‘Divine Comedy,’ 426. Franco Suitner, La poesia satirica e giocosa nell’età dei comuni, 17. Francesco Novati maintains that she is a member of the Faitinelli family, Edoardo Sanguineti proposes that she is a donna gentile, and Cono

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Mangieri suggests that Gentucca is an illegitimate daughter. See Francesco Novati, ‘Canto XXIV,’ in Letture dantesche, vol. 2, Purgatorio (Florence: Sansoni, 1965), 1167; Edoardo Sanguineti, ‘Dante, Purgatorio XXIV,’ in Realismo di Dante (Florence: Sansoni, 1966), 93; and Cono Mangieri, ‘Gentucca Dantesca e dintorni,’ 16–17. Margherita De Bonfils Templer, ‘“Quando Amor mi spira, noto …” (Purg. XXIV),’ Dante Studies 98 (1980): 81–2. Mark Musa, ‘The “Sweet New Style” That I Hear,’ in Advent at the Gates: Dante’s ‘Comedy’ (Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press, 1974), 115. For a general overview of the debate, see Emilio Pasquini, ‘Il “dolce stil novo,”’ in Storia della letteratura italiana (Rome: Salerno, 1995), 1:649–721. Recent scholarship includes Teodolinda Barolini, ‘Dante and the Lyric Past,’ in Dante and the Origins of Italian Literary Culture (New York: Fordham University Press, 2006), 23–46; and Furio Brugnolo, ‘Il “nodo” di Bonagiunta e il “modo” di Dante: Per un’interpretazione di Purgatorio XXIV,’ Rivista di studi danteschi 9.1 (2009): 3–28. Lino Pertile, ‘Il nodo di Bonagiunta,’ in La punta del disio: Semantica del desiderio nella ‘Commedia’ (Fiesole: Cadmo, 2005), 92–4. See also Pertile’s reading of the canto, where he again insists on its bird imagery: Lino Pertile, ‘Canto XXIV: Of Poetry and Politics,’ in Lectura Dantis: ‘Purgatorio,’ ed. Allen Mandelbaum et al. (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 2008), 266. The following is offered as a sampling of some of the scholarship on the question. Marcello Ciccuto suggests that it is an intertextuality between Bonagiunta Orbicciani, Giacomo da Lentini, and Guittone; Luigi Derla affirms that the expression alludes to Dante’s own lyric poetry; and Robert J. Hollander interprets it to mean the Commedia itself. See Marcello Ciccuto, ‘Dante e Bonagiunta: Reperti allusivi nel canto XXIV del Purgatorio,’ Lettere italiane 34.3 (July–September 1982): 390–1; Luigi Derla, ‘“I’ mi son un che quando / Amor mi spira, noto …” Su Purgatorio XXIV, 49–61,’ Aevum 58.2 (May–August 1984): 275; and Robert J. Hollander, ‘Dante’s “Dolce Stil Novo” and the Comedy,’ in Dante: Mito e Poesia: Atti del secondo Seminario Dantesco Internazionale (Florence: Cesati, 1999), 274. Cited from Pietro Fanfani, ed., Commento alla ‘Divina Commedia’ d’anonimo fiorentino, 2:392. Carlo Paolazzi, ‘Nozione di “comedìa” e tradizione retorica nella dantesca “Epistola a Cangrande,”’ in Dante e la ‘comedia’ nel trecento: Dall’Epistola a Cangrande all’età di Petrarca (Milan: Pubblicazioni della Università Cattolica ´ del Sacro Cuore, 1989), 93. See also Zygmunt G. Baranski, ‘Comedìa: Notes

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on Dante, the Epistle to Cangrande and Medieval Comedy,’ Lectura Dantis (Virginiana) 8 (1991): 37. 39 Richard Abrams, ‘Inspiration and Gluttony: The Moral Context of Dante’s Poetics of the “Sweet New Style,”’ MLN 91.1 (January 1976): 33. 40 For examples of scholars who speak of the passage in Purgatorio XXIII and XXIV as the repudiation of the tenzone, see the following: Umberto Bosco, ‘Forese,’ in Dante vicino (Rome: Caltanissetta, 1985), 170; and Tommaso Giuffreda, Dante e Forese (Bari: Danisi, 1952), 6. 41 Cono Mangieri, ‘Gentucca Dantesca e dintorni,’ 11. See also Bernard Stambler, ‘Three Poets,’ in Dante’s Other World: The ‘Purgatorio’ as Guide to the ‘Divine Comedy’ (New York: New York University Press, 1957), 208. 5 Citations and Interpretations: The Literary Memory of the Sonnets in Boccaccio and Others 1 Furio Brugnolo, ‘I toscani nel Veneto e le cerchie toscaneggianti,’ in Storia della cultura veneta, vol. 2, Il Trecento (Vicenza: Neri Pozzi, 1976), 369. 2 Gianfranco Folena, ‘Il primo imitatore veneto di Dante, Giovanni Quirini,’ in Dante e la cultura veneta: Atti del Convegno di studi organizzato dalla Fondazione ‘Giorgio Cini,’ ed. Vittore Branca and Giorgio Padoan (Florence: Olschki, 1966), 421; Mahmoud Salem, ‘Tardo stilnovismo veneto (Nicolò de’ Rossi),’ in Dante e la cultura veneta, 423. 3 Biographical information about Pieraccio Tedaldi is culled from Maurizio Vitale, ed., Rimatori comico-realistici del Due e Trecento, 695–6. 4 The information about the rubric in Vaticano Latino 3213 is derived from Tedaldi, Le rime di Pieraccio Tedaldi, ed. Salomone Morpurgo (Florence: Alla libreria Dante, 1885), 74. 5 For examples of Pieraccio’s misogynistic poetry, see the sonnets ‘S’io veggo il dì che io mai mi dispigli,’ ‘El maladetto dì ch’io pensai,’ and ‘Qualunque m’arrecassi la novella.’ For examples of Pieraccio’s moralizing verse, see the sonnets ‘S’io veggo il dì ch’i’ vinca me medesimo,’ ‘Corretto son del tutto e gastigato,’ and ‘Io vo in me gramo spesso ripetendo.’ For examples of the topos of contemptus mundi, see the sonnets ‘O uom che vivi assai in questo mondo,’ ‘Amico, il mondo è oggi a tal venuto,’ and ‘Io non trovo omo che viva contento.’ All of Pieraccio’s sonnets are cited from Maurizio Vitale, ed., Rimatori comico-realistici del Due e Trecento. 6 For examples of poetry dealing with the motif of Pieraccio’s blindness, see ‘Se parte del veder i’ ho mancato’ and ‘Santa Lucia, per tua verginitate.’ For an example of the motif of Pieraccio’s exile, see ‘S’io veggio il dì, che io disio e spero.’ For a fuller examination of the latter poem and of its

Notes to pages 101–5

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relationship to works by other writers, see Fabian Alfie, ‘Cast Out: The Topos of Exile in Cecco Angiolieri, Pietro de’ Faitinelli and Pieraccio Tedaldi,’ Annali d’Italianistica 20 (2002): 113–24. For examples of the motif of the complaint against poverty, see the sonnets ‘Tal si solea per me levare in piede,’ ‘O me, che io mi sento sì smarrito,’ and ‘I’ truovo molti amici di starnuto.’ The translation of Pieraccio Tedaldi is mine. Andrew Cowell, At Play in the Tavern: Signs, Coins, and Bodies in the Middle Ages, 3–4. Information about Deo Boni is derived from Tommaso di Giunta, Il conciliato d’amore,Rime, Epistole, ed. Linda Pagnotta (Tavarnuzze and Florence: Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2001), 149. For information about the tenzoni between Deo Boni and Tommaso di Giunta, see Tommaso di Giunta, Il conciliato d’amore, Rime, Epistole, 149–64. Deo’s sonnet is cited from this edition; the translation is mine. Tommaso di Giunta, Il conciliato d’amore, Rime, Epistole, 161. In order to explain the latter line, editor Pagnotta proposes that Tommaso had sent a type of fish, known as a ‘mouse fish’ (‘pesce sorco’). See Tommaso di Giunta, Il conciliato d’amore, Rime, Epistole, 164n13. Pagnotta acknowledges, however, that the first citation of a ‘mouse fish’ appears in a culinary treatise of the sixteenth century, far later than the tenzone in question. Valter Boggione and Giovanni Casalegno, Dizionario storico del lessico erotico italiano: Metafore, eufemismi, oscenità, doppi sensi, parole dotte e parole basse in otto secoli di letteratura italiana (Milan: Longanesi, 1996), 292, par. 2.5.2. Joan Cadden, Meanings of Sex Difference in the Middle Ages: Medicine, Science, and Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 15. See also James A. Brundage, ‘Carnal Delight: Canonistic Theories of Sexuality,’ in Sex, Law, and Marriage in the Middle Ages (Hampshire, UK: Variorum, 1993), 376. Michele Barbi mentions the intertextuality between the tenzone and the tales IV.10 and VII.8 of the Decameron in ‘Tenzone con Forese Donati,’ 281, 285–92; he cites the latter narrative in ‘Ancora della tenzone,’ 94. Domenico Guerri also discusses Decameron VII.8 in La corrente popolare nel rinascimento: Berte burle e baie nella Firenze del Brunellesco e del Burchiello, 128, and in ‘Elementi del Decamerone nel primo sonetto d’ ‘Alighiero’ con Bicci,’ 367. The same novella from the Decameron comes under examination by Mario Petrini, Nel giardino di Boccaccio (Udine: Del Bianco, 1986), 96. Finally, the intertextuality between the correspondence of Dante with

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Notes to page 105 Forese and the Corbaccio is brought up by Mario Marti, ‘Per una metalettura del Corbaccio: Il ripudio di Fiammetta,’ Giornale storico della letteratura italiana 153 (1976): 74; by Domenico Guerri, La corrente popolare nel rinascimento, 143; and by Vittore Branca, Tutte le opere di Giovanni Boccaccio, vol. 5, pt. 2 (Milan: Mondadori, 1992), 587. The Decameron is cited from Giovanni Boccaccio, Decameron, ed. Vittore Branca (Turin: Einaudi, 1992). All translations of the Decameron are from Giovanni Boccaccio, The Decameron, trans. Mark Musa and Peter Bondanella (New York and London: W.W. Norton, 1982). The Corbaccio is cited from Tutte le opere di Giovanni Boccaccio, vol. 5, pt. 2, ed. Vittore Branca (Milan: Mondadori, 1992). All translations of the Corbaccio are from Giovanni Boccaccio, The Corbaccio, or the Labyrinth of Love, ed. and trans. Anthony K. Cassell (Binghamton, NY: Medieval & Renaissance Texts & Studies, 1993). Vittore Branca, ‘La vita e le opere di Giovanni Boccaccio,’ in Giovanni Boccaccio, Decameron, ed. Vittore Branca (Turin: Einaudi, 1980), 1:xlv. Those who believe the work is a companion to the Decameron, and thus was composed in the 1350s, include: Robert Hollander, Boccaccio’s Last Fiction: ‘Il Corbaccio’ (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1988), 28; Anthony Cassell, ed. and trans. The Corbaccio, or The Labyrinth of Love, xxvi; Simonetta Mazzoni Peruzzi, Medioevo Francese nel ‘Corbaccio’ (Florence: Le Lettere, 2001), 200. Those who see the Corbaccio as belonging to the early years of the 1360s include Giorgio Padoan, ‘Sulla datazione del Corbaccio,’ Lettere italiane 15 (1963): 1–27; and Giorgio Padoan, ‘Ancora sulla datazione e sul titolo del Corbaccio,’ Lettere italiane 15 (1963): 199–201. See also Vittore Branca, ed., Tutte le opere di Giovanni Boccaccio, vol. 5, pt. 2, 415. Antonio Illiano asserts that it may have been written later, towards the middle of the 1360s, in his ‘Motivazioni etico-affettive e tensione anagogica nel Corbaccio,’ Forum Italicum 23.1–2 (1989): 168–9. For representative studies of Boccaccio’s literary relationship to Dante, see Aldo Vallone, ‘Boccaccio lettore di Dante,’ in Giovanni Boccaccio editore e interprete di Dante (Florence: Olschki, 1979), 91–117; and Giorgio Padoan, ‘Il Boccaccio “fedele” di Dante,’ in Il Boccaccio le muse il Parnaso e l’Arno (Florence: Olschki, 1978), 229–46. For representative studies of Boccaccio’s use of Dante’s lines in the Filostrato, see Giulia Natali, ‘A Lyrical Version: Boccaccio’s Filostrato,’ in The European Tragedy of Troilus, ed. Piero Boitani (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), 49–73; and Thomas C. Stillinger, ‘The Form of Filostrato,’ Stanford Italian Review 9.1–2 (1990): 194–7. For a representative study of Boccaccio’s use of Dante’s verses in the Elegia di Madonna Fiammetta, see Carlo

Notes to pages 105–8

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23

24 25

26 27

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Delcorno, ‘Note sui dantismi nell’Elegia di Madonna Fiammetta,’ Studi sul Boccaccio 11 (1979): 251–94. For representative studies of Boccaccio’s appropriation of Dante in the Decameron, see Franco Fido, ‘Dante personaggio mancato nel Decameron,’ in Boccaccio: Secoli di vita: Atti del Congresso Internazionale: Boccaccio 1975, Università di California, Los Angeles, 17–19 ottobre 1975, ed. Marga Cottino-Jones and Edward F. Tuttle (Ravenna: Longo, 1977), 177–89; and Giuseppe Mazzotta, ‘Games of Laughter in the Decameron,’ Romanic Review 49.1–2 (January–March 1978): 115–31. For Boccaccio’s citations from the Vita Nuova, see Janet Levarie Smarr, Boccaccio and Fiammetta: The Narrator as Lover (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1986), 22. For his citations of the Commedia, see Robert Hollander, ‘Imitative Distance (Decameron I.i and VI.x),’ in Boccaccio’s Dante and the Shaping Force of Satire (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1997), 25–6 . Robert Hollander, ‘Boccaccio’s Dante,’ Italica 63.4 (Autumn 1986): 284. See also J.H. Whitfield, ‘Dante in Boccaccio: The Barlow Lectures on Dante 2,’ Italian Studies 15, Supplement (1960): 26. R. Howard Bloch, Medieval Misogyny and the Invention of Western Romantic Love (Chicago and London: Chicago University Press, 1991), 168–71. Francesco Petrarca, Invectiva contra medicum: Testo latino e volgarizzamento di ser Domenico Silvestri, ed. Pier Giorgio Ricci (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1950), 125–6. As corroboration, see Adriano de’ Rossi’s invective against a doctor, the sonnet ‘S’accordar non sapete medicina’ (‘If you can’t make medicine work for you’), Giuseppe Corsi, ‘Adriano de’ Rossi,’ in Rimatori del Trecento (Turin: UTET, 1969), 901–7. For further background in the topos of slander against medical doctors, although focused on fifteenth-century poetry, see Antonio Lanza, ‘Aspetti e figure della poesia comico-realistica toscana del secolo XV,’ in Freschi e minii del Due-, Tre- e Quattrocento: Saggi di letteratura italiana antica (Fiesole: Cadmo 2002), 275. For example, the narrator calls the wife ‘la donna’ in the following lines: 7, 8, 12, 14, 16, 17, 18, 20, 32, 33, 35, 39, 41, and 53. See the Opera del Vocabolario Italiano (OVI) entry for ‘infreddata,’ and the related entries for ‘infreddato,’ ‘infreddati,’ and ‘infreddate,’ at http:// www.lib.uchicago.edu/efts/ARTFL/projects/OVI. A more literal translation of the phrase might be ‘to shake your wool or fur coat.’ It appears that shaking or beating the pelts may have been a way to clean them, and the practice gave rise to the sexual metaphor. In Decameron VII.7, Boccaccio writes: ‘True, I will admit that they [young men] can warm your wool with greater energy, but mature men who are

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Notes to pages 108–13 more experienced are better experienced with where the flea hides […]’ (‘Certo io confesso che essi con maggior forza scuotano i pilliccioni; ma gli attempati, sì come esperti, sanno meglio i luoghi dove stanno le pulci […],’ emphases added). Since the literal meaning is not at issue here, but instead its sexual connotation is of primary importance, the translators’ less accurate phrasing will suffice. Giovanni Boccacio, Decameron, ed. Vittore Branca, 1:581n4. Valter Boggione and Giovanni Casalegno, Dizionario storico del lessico erotico italiano, 393–4, par. 3.1.4. According to the Lessico universale italiano, the ‘pellicione’ was a mantle, worn by men and women during the Middle Ages, with long sleeves and a hood: see the entry for ‘pellicione’ in Lessico Universale Italiano (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1968), 16:370. Citations of Mandragola are taken from Niccolò Machiavelli, Mandragola, Clizia, ed. Ezio Raimondi (Milan: Mursia, 1987). All translations are from The Portable Machiavelli, ed. and trans. Peter Bondanella and Mark Musa (New York: Penguin, 1979). For a discussion of the influence of Terence on Machiavelli, see Michelangelo Picone, ‘Struttura della Mandragola,’ Rassegna europea di letteratura italiana 19 (2002): 103–4. For a discussion of the influence of Thucidides, see Marcello Simonetta, ‘Machiavelli lettore di Tucidide,’ Esperienze letterarie 22.3 (1997): 53–68. Giorgio Inglese, ‘Mandragola di Niccolò Machiavelli,’ in Letteratura italiana: Le opere, vol. 1, Dalle origini al Cinquecento, dir. Alberto Asor Rosa (Turin: Einaudi 1992), 1022–3. See also Michelangelo Picone, ‘Stuttura della Mandragola,’ 104; and Roberto Alonge, ‘Quella diabolica coppia di messer Nicia e di Madonna Lucrezia,’ in La lingua e le lingue di Machiavelli: Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studi, Torino, 2–4 dicembre 1999, ed. Alessandro Pontremoli (Florence: Olschki, 2001), 241. Gay Bardin, ‘Machiavelli Reads Boccaccio: Mandragola between Decameron and Corbaccio,’ Italian Quarterly 149–150 (Summer–Fall 2001): 5. Pier Massimo Forni, ‘Configurations of Discourse,’ in Adventures in Speech: Rhetoric and Narration in Boccaccio’s ‘Decameron’ (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1996), 12–13. Joy Hambuechen Potter, The Five Frames of the ‘Decameron’: Communication and Social Systems in the ‘Cornice’ (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982), 11–15. Giuseppe Petronio, ‘La posizione del Decameron,’ in Antologia della critica letteraria, vol. 1, La civiltà comunale (Bari: Laterza, 1965), 481–5. See the listings for ‘Conte Guido’ and ‘Conti Guidi’ in the OVI.

Notes to pages 114–17

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40 Marco Bicchierai, Il castello di Raggiolo e i Conti Guidi. Signoria e società nella montagna casentinese del Trecento (Raggiolo: Grifo, 1994), 121–3. 41 Robert Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, vol. 4, pt. 1, 338–9. 42 Giovanni Boccaccio, Decameron, ed. Vittore Branca, 2:856n3. 43 Piera Massimo Forni, ‘The Poetics of Realization,’ in Adventures in Speech: Rhetoric and Narration in Boccaccio’s ‘Decameron,’ 57–8. 44 For examples of a biographical reading of the Corbaccio, see Henri Hauvette, ‘Une confession de Boccace: Il Corbaccio,’ Bulletin italien 23.1 (1901): 3–21; and Normand R. Cartier, Boccaccio’s Revenge: A Literary Transposition of ‘The Corbaccio’ (The Old Crow) (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1977). 45 For examples of interpretations of the Corbaccio as part of a spiritual crisis, see Giuseppe Italo Lopriore, ‘Osservazioni sul Corbaccio,’ Rassegna della letteratura italiana 60.3–4 (luglio-dicembre 1956): 483–9; and Marga Cottino-Jones, ‘The Corbaccio: Notes for a Mythical Perspective of Moral Alternatives,’ Forum Italicum 45 (1970): 490–509. 46 See, for example, Robert Hollander, Boccaccio’s Last Fiction: ‘Il Corbaccio,’ 2. 47 Janet Levarie Smarr, Boccaccio and Fiammetta: The Narrator as Lover, 163. 48 For a study of the citations of Juvenal in the Corbaccio, see Giovanni Pinelli, ‘Appunti sul Corbaccio,’ Il Propugnatore 16 (1883): 169–93. For a study of the citations from Theophrastis, see Anthony K. Cassell, ed. and trans., The Corbaccio, or The Labyrinth of Love, xx. For a study of the citations from Secundus, see Anthony K. Cassell, ‘Il Corbaccio and the Secundus Tradition,’ Comparative Literature 25 (1973): 352–60. For a study of the relationship to Saint Jerome, see Dante Nardo, ‘Sulle fonti classiche del Corbaccio,’ in Medioevo e rinascimento veneto, con altri studi in onore di Lino Lazzarini, vol. 1, Dal Duecento al Quattrocento (Padua: Antenore, 1979): 248. For the connections to De vetula, see Francesco Bruni, ‘Dal De vetula al Corbaccio: L’idea d’amore e i due tempi dell’ intellettuale,’ Medioevo romanzo 1.2 (1974): 161–216. For the connections to the Livre des manières, see Normand R. Cartier, ‘Boccaccio’s Old Crow,’ Romania 98.3 (1977): 332. 49 Simonetta Mazzoni Peruzzi, Medioevo Francese nel ‘Corbaccio,’ 15–20, 105–67. 50 Ralph Hanna III and Traugott Lawler, eds., Jankyn’s Book of Wikkid Wyves, vol. 1, The Primary Texts, 18. 51 For examples of reprehension in the work, see ll. 385 and 390. 52 As Katharine Rogers writes: ‘In an effort to nullify [women’s] pernicious influence, they repeatedly insisted that the female body is not really an attractive object, but a vessel of filth […]’ The Troublesome Helpmate: A History of Misogyny in Literature, 18.

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53 Elizabeth A. Clark, ‘Introduction to John Chrysostom: On Virginity, Against Marriage,’ In Ascetic Piety and Women’s Faith: Essays on Late Ancient Christianity (Lewiston and Queenston: Edward Mellen Press, 1986), 240–5. 54 Danielle Régnier-Bohler, ‘Literary and Mystical Voices,’ in A History of Women in the West, vol. 2, Silences of the Middle Ages, ed. Christiane Klapische-Zuber (Cambridge, MA, and London: Belknap Press, 1992), 429. 55 Regarding the use of cosmetics to disguise women’s natural ugliness, see Eleanor Commo McLaughlin, ‘Equality of Souls, Inequality of Sexes: Woman in Medieval Theology,’ 252; see also Anthony K. Cassell, ‘The Crow of the Fable and the Corbaccio: A Suggestion for the Title,’ MLN 85.1 (1970): 87. Regarding women’s deceptive use of fine clothing, see Diane Owen Hughes, ‘Regulating Women’s Fashion,’ in A History of Women in the West, vol. 2, Silences of the Middle Ages, ed. Christiane Klapische-Zuber (Cambridge, MA, London: Belknap Press, 1992), 137. 56 Colbert I. Nepaulsingh, ‘Juan Ruiz, Boccaccio, and the Antifeminist Tradition,’ La Corónica 9.1 (Fall 1980): 14–16. 57 Ralph Hanna III and Traugott Lawler, eds., Jankyn’s Book of Wikkid Wyves, vol. 1, The Primary Texts, 128–9. 58 Gian Piero Barricelli, ‘Satire of Satire: Boccaccio’s Corbaccio,’ Italian Quarterly 18.72 (Spring 1975): 109. 59 Valter Boggione and Giovanni Casalegno, Dizionario storico del lessico erotico italiano, 399, par. 3.1.6. Conclusion 1 The theory is elaborated in the following studies: Domenico Guerri, ‘Dante e Forese?’ and ‘Le fosse, il guadagno e l’amor di Dante,’ chapters 7 and 8 in La corrente popolare nel rinascimento: Berte burle e baie nella Firenze del Brunellesco e del Burchiello (Florence: Sansoni, 1931), 104–20, 121–48; Domenico Guerri, ‘Dal “gagno” d’Alighiero a fra Timoteo,’ La Nuova Italia 2 (1931): 493–6; Domenico Guerri, ‘Ancora il ‘gagno’ d’Alighero,’ La Nuova Italia 3 (1932): 458–67; Domenico Guerri, ‘Per la storia di Monna Tessa.’ La Nuova Italia 4 (1933): 205–10; Domenico Guerri, ‘Elementi del Decamerone nel primo sonetto d’ “Alighiero” con Bicci,’ La Nuova Italia 5 (1934): 131–8 (all four of Guerri’s articles have been reprinted in Scritti danteschi e d’altra letteratura antica, ed. Antonio Lanza [Rome: De Rubeis, 1990], 331–8, 339–54; 355–65; 367–78); Antonio Lanza, ‘Una volgare lite nella Firenze del primo Quattrocento: La cosiddetta tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati: Nuovi contributi alla tesi di Domenico Guerri,’ in Polemiche e berte letterarie nella Firenze del primo Quattrocento (Rome: Bulzoni, 1971), 396–409; Stefano

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Finiguerri, detto il Za, I poemetti, ed. Antonio Lanza (Rome: Zauli Arti Grafiche, 1994); Mauro Cursietti, La falsa tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati (Rome: De Rubeis, 1995); Daniele Simoncini, ‘Dante e Forese: Storia di un autoschediasma,’ L’Alighieri 8.36 (1995): 67–74; Ruggero Stefanini, ‘Tenzone sì e tenzone no,’ Lectura Dantis 18–19 (Spring–Fall 1996): 111–28; Mauro Cursietti, ‘Nuovi contributi per l’apocrifia della cosiddetta Tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati ovvero La tenzone del Panìco,’ in Bibliografia e critica dantesca: Saggi dedicati a Enzo Esposito, ed. V. De Gregorio (Ravenna: Longo, 1997), 53–72; Antonio Lanza, ‘A norma di filologia: Ancora a proposito della cosiddetta “Tenzone tra Dante e Forese,”’ L’Alighieri 10.38 (July–December 1997): 43–54; Mauro Cursietti, ‘Una beffa parallela alla falsa Tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati: La berta di Cavalcanti “cavalcato,”’ L’Alighieri 13.40 (January–June 1999): 91–110; Mauro Cursietti, ‘I doppi sensi del sonetto “S’e’ non ti caggia la tua santalena,”’ La parola del testo: Semestrale di filologia e letteratura italiana e comparata dal medioevo al rinascimento 3 (1999): 75–83; Mauro Cursietti, ‘Dante e Forese alla taverna del Panìco: Le prove documentarie della falsità della tenzone.’ L’Alighieri 16.41 (July–December 2000): 8–22; Mauro Cursietti, ‘Motti e facezie da Rustico Filippi al Burchiello,’ La parola del testo: Semestrale di filologia e letteratura italiana e comparata dal medioevo al rinascimento 7 (2003): 63–90. 2 Antonio Lanza puts the date of Stefano Finiguerri’s birth as ca. 1365; Lodovico Frati, in contrast, places it as ca. 1388. See Stefano Finiguerri, detto ‘il Za,’ I poemetti, ed. Lanza, 12; and Lodovico Frati, ed., La Buca di Monteferrato, Lo studio d’Atene, e Il Gagno: Poemetti satirici del XV secolo (Bologna: Commissione per i testi di lingua, 1969), liii. 3 The only documentation about Bicci Castellani occurs in ‘Il Za’s’ poem, La buca di Montemorello (II.1–15). ‘Il Za’ shows him conversing with Tieri Tornaquinci, and standing near two others, Loren’ d’Amaretto Manelli and Pancetta Ardinghelli. 4 Giovanni Gherardi da Prato was the son of a used-clothes merchant and the grandson of a notary. He studied at the University of Padua and took a doctorate in law prior to 1394. He authored several literary texts, including Philomena, a vision of the afterworld in which he is guided in part by the spirit of Dante, a work begun in 1389 but not completed until after 1406. In his youth he wrote numerous lyric poems and a longer work called Il Giuoco d’Amore. He also contributed several octaves to the satire, Geta e Birria. On 29 May 1417, Giovanni was called upon to give public lectures on Dante’s Commedia. In addition to his poetic activities, Giovanni Gherardi worked as an architect, and he competed against Filippo Brunelleschi to design the cupola of the Florentine cathedral. Giovanni

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Notes to pages 124–5 Gherardi also figured in other people’s texts. The Sienese writer Gentile Sermini cast him as a character in one of his forty Novelle. Domenico del Maestro Andrea da Prato composed L’Acquattino, a lengthy satire about him. Il Burchiello openly slanders Giovanni in the sonnet ‘Questi che hanno studiato il Pecorone.’ The biographical information about Giovanni is derived from Lauro Martines, The Social World of the Humanists, 1290–1460 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963), 312–13; the literary information about him is derived from Giovanni Gherardi da Prato, Il Paradiso degli Alberti, ed. Antonio Lanza (Rome: Salerno Editore, 1975), liv–lvi; information about his architectural activities is from Howard Salmaan, ‘Giovanni da Gherardo da Prato’s Designs concerning the Cupola of Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence,’ Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 18.1 (March 1959): 11–20; Gentile Sermini’s novella is cited from Novelle del quattrocento, ed. Aldo Borlenghi (Milan: Rizzoli, 1962), 281–5; and information about L’Acquettino is derived from Germano Pallini, ‘À propos de l’ Acquattino de Ser Domenico da Prato,’ Revue des études italiennes 39.3–4 (2003): 260. Burchiello’s poetry is cited from I sonetti del Burchiello, ed. Michelangelo Zaccarello (Bologna: Commissione per i testi di lingua, 2000).

Appendix: Manuscripts and Stemmas 1 Domenico De Robertis treats the tradition as divided into three parts, according to the three pairs of sonnets. See Dante Alighieri, Rime, vol. 3, Testi, ed. Domenico De Robertis (Florence: Le Lettere, 2002), 451–2. 2 Barbi, for instance, is vague regarding the ß manuscripts, and he does not take into account the ‘anonimo fiorentino’s’ partial transcription of C. See Michele Barbi, ‘La tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati,’ 7. Please note that the stemma is not reproduced in the version of this article entitled ‘Tenzone con Forese Donati,’ reprinted in Rime della ‘Vita Nuova’ e della giovinezza, vol. 2 of Opere di Dante, ed. Barbi and F. Maggini, in 1956. 3 The sonnets correspond to De Robertis’s sequence as follows: A (87), B (88), C (89), D (90), E (91), F (92). 4 A complete description of Chigiano L.VIII.305 is provided in Ernesto Monaci, ‘Chigiano L.VIII.305,’ Propugnatore 10.1 (1877): 128–63, 289–342; 10.2 (1887): 335–413; 11.1 (1888): 199–264, 303–32. 5 Regarding the dating of Chigiano L.VIII.305, see Michele Barbi, ‘Ancora della tenzone di Dante con Forese,’ Studi danteschi 16 (1932): 91. See also Fabian Alfie, ‘For Want of a Nail: The Guerri-Lanza-Cursietti Argument about the Tenzone,’ Dante Studies 116 (1998): 146–54.

Notes to pages 125–8

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6 Giovanni Borriero, ‘Considerazioni sulla tradizione manoscritta della Tenzone di Dante con Forese Donati,’ in Antico Moderno, vol. 4, I numeri (Rome: Bagatto Libri, 1997), 389–90. 7 A complete description of Banco Rari 69 (Palatino 180) is in Luigi Gentile, I codici palatini, vol. 1 of Cataloghi dei manoscritti della R. Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Firenze (Rome: I principali librai, 1889), 185–7. A brief description is also found in Domenico De Robertis, ‘Censimento dei manoscritti di rime di Dante (I),’ Studi danteschi 37 (1960): 234–5. 8 Luigi Gentile, I codici palatini, 185. 9 A complete description of Trivulziano 1058 is in La Vita Nuova, ed. Michele Barbi (Milan: Hoepli, 1907): xlii–xlv. A brief description is also found in Domenico De Robertis, ‘Censimento dei manoscritti di rime di Dante (IV),’ Studi danteschi 40 (1963): 462–5. 10 A complete description of Crusca 53 is in Michele Barbi, ‘La Raccolta Bartoliniana e le sue fonti,’ in Studi sul canzoniere di Dante con nuove indagini sulle raccolte manoscritte e a stampa di antiche rime italiane (Florence: Sansoni, 1965), 119–206. 11 A descriptus copy of ‘La Raccolta Bartoliniana,’ Biblioteca Universitaria Bolognese 2448 (henceforth BUB 2448), also contains transcriptions of the sonnets exchanged between Dante and Forese. For the sake of comprehensiveness, the sonnets of BUB 2448 will be transcribed below: (f. 2r) [Rubric] ‘Dante a Forese Donati.’ ‘Chi udisse tossir la malfatata / moglie di Bicci uocato Forese / potrebbe dire che la fosse uernata / oue si fa il cristallo in quel paese. / Di mezzo agosto la truoui infreddata / hor pensa che dee far d’ogn’altro mese / e non le ual perche dorma calzata / mercè del copertoio c’ha cortonese. / La tosse ’l freddo e laltra mala uoglia / non laddiuien per homor c’habbia uecchi / ma per difetto che la sente al nido. / Piange la madre c’ha piu d’una doglia / dicendo lassa a me per fichi secchi / messa l’haurei in casa il Conte Guido.’ (ff. 2r–v) [Rubric] ‘Risposta di Forese Donati à Dante.’ ‘L’altra notte mi uenne una gran tosse / perch’io non hauea che tener adosso / ma incontantente che fo di dui mosso / per gir a guadagnar oue che fosse. / Udite la fortuna oue m’addusse / ch’io credetti trouar perle in un bosso / e bei fiorin coniati d’oro rosso / e d’io trouai alaghier fra le fosse / legato a nodo ch’io non saccio il nome / se fu di salamone o d’altro saggio / allhora mi segna uerso leuante / e quei mi disse per amor di dante / sciomi ed io non potetti ueder come / tornai a dietro e compie mio uiaggio.’ (ff. 2v–3r) [Rubric] ‘Dante a Forese Donati per replica.’ ‘Bicci nouel figluol di non so cui / se non ne domandasse mona tessa / giu per la gola tanta roba hai messa / ch’a forza ti conuiene hor tor l’altrui. / E gia la gente si guarda da lui / chi ha borsa allato la

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12

13

14

15

16 17 18

Notes to pages 128–37 doue s’appressa / dicendo questi c’ha la faccia fessa / e piuuico ladron negli atti suoi / e tal giace nel letto tristo / per tema non sia preso all’imbolare / che gli appartien quanto Giuseppo a Christo / di Bicci e de fratei posso contare / che per lo sangue loro del mal acquisto / sanno a lor donne buon cognati stare.’ (f. 3r) [Rubric] ‘Forese Donati à Dante per risp.a’ ‘Ben so che fosti figliol d’Allaghieri / ed accorgomen pure a la uendetta / che facesti di lui si bella et netta / del’ agugin che d’ei cambio l’altrehieri / Se tagliato n’hauessi uno a quartieri / di pace non doueui hauer tal fretta / ma tu hai poi si piena la bonetta / che non la porterebbon dua somieri. / Buon uso ci hai recato gentil dico / che qual charica te ben di bastone / colui hai per fratello o per amico. / Il nome ti direi delle persone / che u’hanno posto su, ma del panico / mi reca ch’io uò metter la ragione.’ For further information about BUB 2448, including in-depth analysis of its relationship to Crusca 53, see Michele Barbi, La Raccolta Bartoliniana di rime antiche e i codici da essa derivati (Bologna: Zanichelli, 1900), 5–18. Michele Barbi, ‘La Raccolta Bartoliniana e le sue fonti,’ in Studi sul canzoniere di Dante con nuove indagini sulle raccolte manoscritte e a stampa di antiche rime italiane, 122. A description of Panciatichiano 24 is in Salamone Morpurgo, ed., I codici Panciatichiani, vol. 7 of Indici e cataloghi (Rome: I Principali Librai, 1887), 32–7. A description of Laurenziano XL.49 is in Angelo Bandini, ed., Biblioteca Mediceo-Laurenziana, Catalogus codicum italicorum Bibliothecae Mediceae laurentianae, Gaddianae et Sanctae Crucis (Florence: Praesidibus Adventibus, 1778), 62–7. Please note that the volume is also listed as volume 5 of Catalogus codicum latinorum Bibliothecae Mediceae Laurentianae, 1774–1778. An abbreviated description of the manuscript can be found in Domenico De Robertis, ‘Censimento dei manoscritti di rime di Dante (III),’ Studi danteschi 38 (1961): 138–9. For further information about Riccardiano 1093, including a complete listing of the works therein, see Salamone Morpurgo, ed., I manoscritti della R. Biblioteca Riccardiana di Firenze (Rome: I Principali Librai, 1900), 1:93–5. A complete description of Riccardiano 1094 is in Salamone Morpurgo, ed., I manoscritti della R. Biblioteca Riccardiana di Firenze, 1:96–9. For the sake of clarity the stemma of α has been slightly simplified; Crusca 53 has been removed. A complete description of Riccardiano 1016 is in Salamone Morpurgo, ed., I manoscritti della R. Biblioteca Riccardiana di Firenze, 1:13. See also Dante Alighieri, Rime, vol. 1, I documenti, ed. Domenico de Robertis (Florence: Le Lettere, 2002), 332–3.

Notes to pages 137–40

183

19 Two manuscripts, Laurenziano Plut. XC sup. 123, and Palatino 183, hold only the portion of the ‘anonimo fiorentino’ that treats Inferno. Riccardiano 1013 begins with Purgatorio XXVIII, four cantos after the pilgrim takes leave of Forese Donati. Enzo Quaglio maintains, furthermore, that the inclusion of Riccardiano 1013 was erroneous. See Enzo Quaglio, ‘Intorno alla tenzone Dante–Forese,’ in ‘Per correr miglior acque …’: Bilanci e prospettive degli studi danteschi alle soglie del nuovo millennio (Rome: Salerno, 2001), 1:275; and for a fuller description of Riccardiano 1013, see Salamone Morpurgo, ed., I manoscritti della R. Biblioteca Riccardiana di Firenze, 1:11. For the codicology of the ‘anonimo fiorentino,’ see Paul Colomb de Batines, Bibliografia dantesca […] (Prato: Aldina, 1846), 2:348–50. 20 The anonymous Florentine commentator introduces this line (Purgatorio XXV.22) in the discussion of Purgatorio XXIII. 21 A complete description of Rediano 184 is in Michele Barbi, ‘Per un sonetto attribuito a Dante e per due codici di rime antiche,’ in Studi sul canzoniere di Dante, 453–509. See also Domenico De Robertis, ‘Censimento dei manoscritti di rime di Dante (III),’ Studi danteschi 38 (1961): 183–6. 22 Michele Barbi, ‘Per un sonetto attribuito a Dante,’ in Studi sul canzoniere di Dante, 468–86. 23 A complete description of Chigiano L.IV.131, including its relationship to Rediano 184, is in Michele Barbi, ‘Per un sonetto attribuito a Dante,’ in Studi sul canzoniere di Dante, 453–509. See also Domenico de Robertis, ‘Censimento dei manoscritti di rime di Dante (VI),’ Studi danteschi 42 (1965): 445–8. 24 Barbi, ‘Per un sonetto attribuito a Dante,’ in Studi sul canzoniere di Dante, 469. 25 For in-depth descriptions of the codex, see Luca Azzetta, ‘Le chiose alla Commedia di Andrea Lancia, l’Epistola a Cangrande e altre questioni dantesche,’ L’Alighieri 44.21 (January–June 2003): 5–76; and Marisa Boschi Rotiroti, Codicologia trecentesca della ‘Commedia’: Entro e oltre l’antica vulgata (Roma: Viella, 2004). For a succinct description of the manuscript, see Barbara Banchi and Alessandra Stefanin, La ‘Commedia,’ in I codici della Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Firenze (Florence: Società Dantesca Italiana, 1998), 40; see also Gabriella Pomaro, ‘Analisi codicologica e valutazioni testuali della tradizione della Commedia,’ in ‘Per correr miglior acque …’: Bilanci e prospettive degli studi danteschi alle soglie del nuovo millennio: Atti del Convegno internazionale di Verona-Ravenna, 25–29 ottobre 1999 (Rome: Salerno, 2001), 1:1055–67. 26 Luca Azzetta, ‘Le chiose alla Commedia di Andrea Lancia, l’Epistola a Cangrande … e altre questioni dantesche,’ L’Alighieri 44.21:19–23. The commentator cites the division of Florence into sesti and not quartieri;

184

27 28

29 30

Notes to pages 140–1 when the Duca d’Atene was removed from power in 1343, the city was again divided into quartieri. Moreover, the commentator speaks of the ‘last’ jubilee year as occurring in 1300; but in 1343, pope Clement V called for the jubilee to be celebrated every fifty years, beginning in 1350. Gabriella Pomaro, ‘Analisi codicologica e valutazioni testuali della tradizione della Commedia,’ in ‘Per correr miglior acque …,’ 1:1065. A complete description of Vaticano Barberiniano 3999 is in Michele Barbi, ‘Il codice Strozzi di rime antiche citato dall’Ubaldini e dalla Crusca,’ in Due noterelle dantesche (Florence: Carnesecchi, 1898),13–18. A brief description is in Domenico De Robertis, ‘Censimento dei manoscritti di rime di Dante (VI).’ Studi danteschi 42 (1965): 428–30. Michele Barbi, ‘Il codice Strozzi di rime antiche citato dall’Ubaldini e dalla Crusca,’ in Due noterelle dantesche,13–18. Michele Barbi, ‘Per un sonetto attribuito a Dante,’ in Studi sul canzoniere di Dante, 505.

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Index

Abrams, Richard, 172n Acerbo, son of Iacopo di Attaviano dell’Acerbo, 24–9 Adimari family, 13; Lambertuccio, 7 Adriano de’ Rossi, 175n Ahern, John, 152n Alan of Lille, 83 Albero da Siena, 70–1 Alfie, Fabian, 162n, 173n, 180n Alighieri, Dante, works: ‘Amor, tu vedi ben che questa donna,’ 60–1; Commedia, 4, 5, 59, 61, 123 (see also under Inferno; Paradiso; Purgatorio); Convivio, 11, 31–2, 60, 149n; De monarchia, 60; De vulgari eloquentia, 27–8, 61, 90, 156n; Epistle to Cangrande della Scala, 61, 165n; Questio de aqua et terra, 60 – Inferno, 4, 6; Inferno III, 114; Inferno XXV, 7; Inferno XXVI, 6; Inferno XXVIII, 63–4, 68; Inferno XXIX, 9, 10, 15, 61–74, 80, 81, 82; Inferno XXX, 7, 15, 54, 61, 65, 67, 74–81, 82 – Paradiso III, 91; Paradiso XV, 9; Paradiso XVI, 7, 9, 11, 12, 14 – Purgatorio XXIII, 5, 11–12, 15–16, 21–2, 43, 53, 61, 82–91, 94, 95, 99,

115, 123, 137–8, 140–1; Purgatorio XXIV, 5, 15–16, 53, 61, 82, 92–9, 137 – Vita Nuova, 4, 29–31, 32, 60, 94–6, 149n, 156n; ‘Donne ch’avete intelletto d’amore,’ 94–6; ‘Morte villana, di pietà nemica,’ 29–31 Alighieri family, 4, 9, 14, 50, 57–9, 67, 80; Alighiero Bellincione (Dante’s father), 4, 9, 11, 38–40, 42, 50, 51, 55–7, 59; Bello, 9; Belluzzo, 48, 50, 163n; Buonaccorso di Geri del Bello, 62; Cacciaguida, 9, 11, 14, 58; Donato, 9; Francesco (Dante’s brother), 48, 50, 163n; Gaetana (Tana) (Dante’s sister), 48, 50, 163n; Geri del Bello, 9–11, 15, 56– 7, 62–9, 72, 74, 79, 80; Gherardo, 9; Giovanni di Geri del Bello, 62; Pietro (Dante’s son), 8, 10, 93, 147n, 167n, 170n Allen, Judson Boyce, 146n, 153nn, 169n Alonge, Roberto, 176n Altafronte castle, 47, 49, 50 Altafronti family, 49, 50 Angiolieri, Cecco, 57, 60, 67, 151n, 152n, 159n, 164n, 166n

208

Index

‘anonimo fiorentino,’ 21–2, 23, 34, 43, 82–3, 97, 137–8, 140, 146n, 168n, 183n Aquarone, Bartolomeo, 167n Ardinghelli, Pancetta, 179n Aristotle, 13 Athamas, 74 Averroes, 22; Averroistic definition of literature, 31 Azzetta, Luca, 183n Baldelli, Ignazio, 154n Banchi, Barbara, 183n Bandini, Angelo, 182n ´ Baranski, Zygmunt G., 146n, 153n, 171–2n Barbadoro, Bernardino, 150n Barberi-Squarotti, Giorgio, 165n Barbi, Michele, 29, 31, 36, 42, 49, 94–5, 124, 146n, 148n, 149–50n, 156n, 157n, 158n, 159n, 160n, 161n, 163n, 164n, 173n, 180n, 181n, 182n, 183n, 184n Bardi family, 13; Francesco, 49 Bardin, Gay, 110, 176n Barolini, Teodolinda, 150n, 161n, 171n Barricelli, Gian Piero, 178n Bartlett, Elizabeth, 145n Bayless, Martha, 44, 161n, 163n Beatrice, 3, 4, 11, 12, 149n Bec, Pierre, 152n Becker, Marvin D., 13, 150n, 151n, 161n, 165n, 166n Bembrose, Stephen, 11, 148n Benvenuto da Imola, 77, 166n, 167n Bernardi, Simonetta Saffiotti, 149n Bertran de Born, 63–4, 66 Bible: James, 83; Psalms, 83, 87, 95; II Timothy, 80 Bicchierai, Marco, 177n

Bigi, Emilio, 168n Bloch, R. Howard, 175n Boccaccio, Giovanni, 5, 16, 59, 100, 105–21, 122, 123, 141, 174n, 175– 6n, 177n; Corbaccio, 110, 115–20; Decameron, 110, 122, 168n, 174n; Decameron IV.10, 105–9, 173n; Decameron VII.8, 111–15, 173n Boggione, Valter, 173n, 176n, 178n Boitani, Piero, 45, 146n, 161n, 170n Bonagiunta da Lucca, 82–3, 84, 86, 92, 93, 95–6, 98, 168–9n, 171n Bondanella, Peter, 174n, 176n Bongi, Salvatore, 154–5n Boni, Deo, 16, 103–5, 123, 173n; ‘Alla mie cara et compagna Vannetta,’ 103–5 Bonichi, Bindo, 57, 164n Borriero, Giovanni, 181n Boschi Rotiroti, Marisa, 183n Bosco, Umberto, 168n, 172n Boyde, Patrick, 157n Branca, Vittore, 114, 148n, 174n Brigata spendereccia, 72, 167n Brodarium de Sacchettis, 10 Brown, Howard Mayer, 168n Brugnolo, Furio, 171n, 172n Brundage, James A., 173n Bruni, Francesco, 156n, 164n, 177n Buonanni, Vincenzo, 62–3 Buondelmonte dei Buondelmonti, 7 Burchiello: poetry, 51, 180n; 1757 edition of, 51, 136–7, 163–4n Burella (debtors prison), 45–6 Butler, Judith, 151n Butturff, Douglas R., 159n Cadden, Joan, 173n Cambio, son of Iacopo di Attaviano dell’Acerbo, 24, 27, 55

Index Campaldino, 37 Cantor, Peter, 83 Capocchio, 70–3, 74 Cardini, Franco, 150n Carducci, Giosuè, 160n Carpi, Umberto, 148n, 151n Cartier, Normand B., 177n Casagrande, Carla, 167n, 169nn, 170n, 178n Casalegno, Giovanni, 173n, 176n Casini, Tommaso, 153n Cassell, Anthony K., 174n, 177n Castellani, Bicci, 122–3, 179n Cavalca, Domenico, 83 Cavalcanti family, 13 Cavallo, JoAnn, 170n Cecchini, Enzo, 165n Cerbiolin, son of Leale, 28–9 Cerchi family, 8, 13; Vieri, 13, 37 Cestaro, Gary, 90, 170n Cherchi, Paolo, 160n Cherubini, Giovanni, 162n Chiappelli, Fredi, 158n Chiarini, Eugenio, 159–60n Cian, Vittorio, 153n Ciappelli, Giovanni, 163n Ciccuto, Marcello, 171n Clark, Elizabeth A., 178n Compagni, Dino, 148n, 161n Concordium, 20–1 Conrad III, 58 Conrad of Hirsau, 22 Consoli, Domenico, 151n Contentio: and etymology of tenzone, 18, 84, 86; as contest or war of words, 18, 79, 83; as unethical, 84 Contini, Gianfranco, 36, 158n, 164n, 165n Corsi, Giuseppe, 175n Cottino-Jones, Marga, 177n

209

Council of One Hundred, 8 Counts Alberti family, 47; Stagnesi, 47 Counts Guidi family, 8, 34, 36, 37, 113–14, 120, 158n, 176n, 177n; Aghinolfo, 76; Guido Alessandro, 76; Guido Novello, 4, 8, 37; Jacopa, 8 Cowell, Andrew, 44, 160n, 173n Crescini, Vincenzo, 160n Croce, Benedetto, 89, 170n Cudini, Piero, 82, 145n, 157n, 164n, 167n, 168n Cursietti, Mauro, 155n, 178–9n Curtius, Ernst Robert, 50, 163n Dami, Luigi, 150n D’Ancona, Alessandro, 151n D’Alfonso, Rossella, 153n D’Alverny, Marie-Thérèse, 158n Dante da Maiano, 60, 152n Davidsohn, Robert, 148n, 155n, 158n, 163n, 177n De Bonfils Templer, Margherita, 171n De lingua, 83 De Robertis, Domenico, 36, 151n, 156n, 157n, 162n, 164n, 165n, 180n, 182n, 183n, 184n De vetula, 116 Del Beccaro, Felice, 145n Delcorno, Carlo, 174–5n Del Lungo, Isidoro, 146n, 149n, 157n Derla, Luigi, 171n Discordium, 20, 21, 38 Dolce stil nuovo or novo, 3, 4, 95–7, 100, 171nn Domenico di Maestro Andrea di Prato, 180n Donati family, 7, 8, 13, 14, 35, 37, 38, 48, 49, 50, 52, 55, 57, 75, 80, 88;

210

Index

Andrea, 45; Buoso, 7, 54, 74; Cianfa, 7, 54; Contessa (Tessa) (Forese’s mother), 8, 51–2, 146n, 147n; Corso, 3, 7, 8, 37, 97–8; Donato, 7; Fiorenzo (Barone), 6–7, 50; Forese, 3–6 and passim; Gemma (Dante’s wife), 3, 9, 14; Gualdrada, 7; Maria, 7, 48; Nella (Forese’s wife), 3, 8, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 52, 59, 60, 88, 89, 107–8, 113, 114, 120, 147n; Piccarda, 7, 91, 94, 98; Ravenna, 7–8; Simone (Forese’s father), 7, 15, 53–5, 57, 59, 75, 76, 118; Sinibaldo, 8; Vinciguerra, 7 Dronke, Peter, 159n Duby, Georges, 155n Durling, Robert M., 78, 146n, 167n Edlmann, Paolo, 162n Emperor, 24 Étienne de Fougere, 116 Faitinelli family, 93 Fanfani, Pietro, 146n, 171n Federici, Vincenzo, 155n Fichtner, Edward G., 160n Fido, Franco, 175n Filippi, Rustico, 15, 22, 23, 25–9, 32, 33, 35, 52, 69, 88, 90, 108–9, 119–20, 123, 153–5n, 157n; ‘Da che guerra m’avete incominciata,’ 23; ‘Io fo ben boto a Dio: se Ghigo fosse,’ 28–9, 35, 108–9; ‘No riconoscereste voi l’Acerbo,’ 24–6, 119–20; ‘Volete udir vendetta smisurata,’ 26–8 Filippini, Francesco, 157n, 159n Finiguerri, Stefano di Tommaso (‘Il Za’), 122–3, 178–9n Fiumi, Enrico, 148n Folena, Gianfranco, 172n

Forni, Pier Massimo, 111, 115, 176n, 177n Foschi, Paola, 162n Foster, Kenelm, 157n Francesco da Barberino: I documenti d’amore, 20–1, 23, 152n Francesco da Buti, 10, 68, 73, 166n Francesco di Ser Nardo da Barberino, 125 Frederick II, 8 Frescobaldi family, 13 Frye, Northrop, 153n Fubini, Mario, 146n Ganucci Cancellieri, Girolamo, 162n Gentile, Luigi, 181n Gentucca, 93–4, 95 Gerini or Geremei family, 10, 68 Gherardi, Giovanni, da Prato (‘l’Acquettino’), 122–3, 179–80n Ghibellines, 7, 8, 14, 23, 24, 25, 26, 36, 37, 49, 88, 147n, 155n Ghigo, 28–9 Giacomo da Lentini (‘il Notaro’), 95–6, 171n Gianni, Lapo, 57, 164n Gianni Schicchi (Giacomo Puccini’s opera), 7, 60 Giano della Bella, 13 Giordano da Rivalto, 58, 165n Giuffreda, Tommaso, 172n Giunta, Claudio, 20, 152n, 167n, 169n Goliards, 44 Gorni, Guglielmo, 29, 31, 94–5, 156n Griffolino, 70–2, 74, 75 Guelphs, 7, 8, 9, 14, 24, 37, 88, 147n; Black Guelphs, 13; White Guelphs, 13 Guerri, Domenico, 146n, 158n, 159n, 161n, 173n, 174n, 178–9n Guido da Pisa, 160n

Index Guinizzelli, Guido, 83, 157n, 169n Guittone d’Arezzo, 95–6, 171n Hagen, Patricia, 18, 152n Hanna, Ralph III, 154n, 158n, 177n, 178n Hauvette, Henri, 177n Hecuba, 74 Henry of Settimello, 67, 165–6n Hermann the German, 22, 84 Herlihy, David, 162n Hollander, Robert, 165n, 171n, 174n, 177n Hughes, Diane Owen, 178n Illiano, Antonio, 145n, 174n Incontinentia, 32 Indizio, Giuseppe, 163n Inglese, Giorgio, 176n Jacoff, Rachel, 167n Jacopo della Lana, 10, 82, 168n Jenni, Domenico, 146n, 164n Jerome, Saint, 116, 177n Jones, David J., 152n Jones, Philip, 148n, 150n, 151n, 163n Josephus, Flavius, 88 Juvenal, 111, 116 Kovesi Killerby, Catherine, 170n Lancia, Andrea, 123 Landino, Cristoforo, 166n, 167n Lansing, Carol, 13, 150n, 151n Lanza, Antonio, 158n, 175n, 178–9n Larner, John, 150n, 166n Latini, Brunetto, 18–20, 87, 96, 152n, 153n, 170n Lawler, Traugott, 154n, 158n, 177n, 178n Learchus, 74

211

LeGoff, Jacques, 155n Le Leu, Gautier, 116 Lippo Pasci dei Bardi, 67, 166n Literary theory: Convenientia, 70; comedy and tragedy, 6, 14–15, 21–2, 96–7; satire, 22 Lopriore, Giuseppe Italo, 177n Lorens d’Orléans, 83 Machiavelli, Niccolò: La Mandragola, 109–11, 122, 176n Mahieu de Boulogne, 116 Makowski, Elizabeth M., 154n Manca, Franco, 151n Manelli, Loren d’Amaretto, 179n Mangieri, Cono, 159n, 163n, 170–1n, 172n Mann, Jill, 159n Manuscripts: Archivio degli Spedali di Prato, 9; Banco Rari 69, 121, 123, 126–7, 131, 135–6, 159n, 181n; Biblioteca Universitaria Bologna 2448, 181–2n; Chigiano L.IV.131, 33, 139–40, 141, 157n, 183n; Chigiano L.VIII.305, 33, 121, 123, 125–6, 131, 141, 157n, 159n, 180n; Crusca 53, 129–31, 159n, 181n, 182n; Firenze II.i.39, 123, 140–1; Firenze II.iii.343, 8, 147n; Laurenziano XL.49, 132–3, 135–7, 182n; Panciatichiano 24, 132, 135–7, 182n; Rediano 184, 138–40, 183n; Riccardiano 1016, 21–2, 137–8, 140, 182n; Riccardiano 1093, 133–4, 135– 7, 182n; Riccardiano 1094, 134–7, 182n; Trivulziano 1058, 100, 127–9, 131, 135–6, 159n, 181n; Vatican Barberiniano Latin 3999, 33–4, 61–3, 124, 141–3, 157n, 165n, 184n Marrani, Giuseppe, 155n, 156n Marrocco, Thomas, 168n

212

Index

Marti, Mario, 150n, 151n, 156n, 159n, 166n, 174n Martin IV, 92, 93 Martinelli, Bruna Cordati, 149n, 170n Martines, Lauro, 180n Martinez, Ronald L., 170n Mary the Israelite, 88, 93 Masciandaro, Franco, 150n Massèra, Aldo Francesco, 151n, 155n Mastro Adamo, 65, 67, 76, 77–9, 92, 168n Matazone da Caligano, 57 Mazzei, Lapo, 41, 160n Mazzoni, Francesco, 148n Mazzoni Peruzzi, Simonetta, 174n, 177n Mazzotta, Giuseppe, 156n McLaughlin, Eleanor Commo, 158n, 178n McPeek, James A.S., 161n Medici, Daniela, 150n Mengaldo, Pier Vincenzo, 145n, 156n, 157n, 166n Miller, Paul, 153n, 170n Misogyny, literary trope, 23, 52, 88, 89, 101, 109, 110, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 173n Mohammed, 63 Mollat, Michel, 158n Momigliano, Attilio, 82, 168n Monaci, Ernesto, 180n Monna Lëonessa (Milady Lioness), 24–5, 119–20 Montano, Rocco, 167n Montaperti, 9, 24 Morpurgo, Salamone, 182n, 183n Mosca the Florentine, 63 Mozzi family, 13 Musa, Mark, 156n, 171n, 174n, 176n Myrrha, 75

Nada Patrone, Annamaria, 151n Najemy, John, 151n Nardo, Dante, 177n Natali, Giulia, 174n Nepaulsingh, Colbert I., 178n Niccolai, Giovanni, 64, 69, 165n Nicolò de’ Rossi, 100 Noakes, Susan, 161n Novati, Francesco, 164n, 170n Ordinances of Justice, 9, 13 ‘ottimo commento,’ 8–9, 87, 148n Ottokar, Nicola, 151n Padoan, Giorgio, 174n Pagnotta, Linda, 104 Pallini, Germano, 180n Panvini, Bruno, 152n Paolazzi, Carlo, 171n Parenti, Patrizia, 150n Pasquini, Emilio, 171n Pazzaglia, Mario, 156n Pernicone, Vincenzo, 145n Perrus, Claude, 168n Pertile, Lino, 9–10, 148n, 149n, 156n, 171n Petrarch, Francesco, 106, 175n Petrini, Mario, 173n Petrocchi, Giorgio, 146n, 149n Petronio, Giuseppe, 176n Peyrault, Guillaume, 83 Piattoli, Renato, 146n, 148n, 149n, 161n, 163n, 164n Picone, Michelangelo, 176n Pier da Medicina, 63 Pinelli, Giovanni, 177n Pinti Hospital (San Paolo di Razzuolo), 7, 50 Pirotta, Nino, 167n Polydorus, 74

Index Pomaro, Gabriella, 183n, 184n Pope (Papacy), 24, 25 Potter, Joy Hambuechen, 176n Poulle, Emmanuel, 149n Pugliese, Toringo, 9 Pullan, Brian, 151n Quaglio, Enzo, 183n Quinones, Ricardo, 149n Quirini, Giovanni, 100 Ragni, Eugenio, 164n Raimondi, Ezio, 176n Regalado, Nancy, 157–8n Régnier-Bohler, Danielle, 178n Reynolds, Suzanne, 153n Ricci, Pier Giorgio, 175n Rogers, Katherine M., 36, 154n, 158n, 177n Rossellino della Tosa, 7 Rossi family, 13 Russell, Rinaldina, 170n Russo, Vittorio, 82, 145–6n, 164n, 170n Salem, Mahmoud, 172n Salmaan, Howard, 180n Salsano, Fernando, 149n Salvemini, Gaetano, 150n Sanfilippo, Mario, 148n San Gallo Hospital, 7, 48, 49, 50 Sanguinetti, Edoardo, 168n, 170n San Iacopo Church, 39 San Simone neighbourhood, 43, 45–6 Sansoni, Umberto, 160n Sapegno, Natalino, 68, 166n Scherillo, Michele, 148n, 165n Schevill, Ferdinand, 150n Schiaffini, Aldo, 155n, 161n Schicchi, Gianni, 15, 54, 55, 62, 74–6, 80

213

Secundus, 116 Sermini, Gentile, 180n Sestan, Ernesto, 146n, 147n, 159n, 167n Sicilian poets, 18 Simoncini, Daniele, 179n Simonelli, Maria, 156n Singleton, Charles S., 145n Sinone, 65, 67, 77–9, 92 Smarr, Janet Levarie, 175n, 177n Stambler, Bernard, 172n Stäuble, Antonio, 157n Stefanin, Alessandra, 183n Stefanini, Ruggero, 179n Stillinger, Thomas C., 174n Storey, H. Wayne, 145n, 152n Suitner, Franco, 21, 146n, 153n, 166n, 170n Tavern, literary trope, 43–4, 48, 49, 51, 64, 102, 111–12 Taviani, Guelfo, 152n Tedaldi, Pieraccio, 16, 67, 101–3, 105, 123, 166n, 172–3n; ‘E’ piccioli fiorin d’argento e d’oro,’ 101–3 Tenso/tenson (Provençal term), 18, 20; as dialogic form, 18 tenzone: and agonistic ideals of the culture, 83; Brunetto Latini as early Italian theorist of, 18–20; early references to in Francesco da Barberino, 20–1; as literary disputation, 19 (see also Contentio); as poetic correspondence on a social issue, 19–20; and satire, 5, 22; use of rhymes in, 20–1 (see also Concordium; Discordium); and vituperium, 21 Terence, 176n Theophrastis, 116, 177n

214

Index

Tommaso di Giunta, 103–5, 173n Tribalza, Ciro, 170n Tuscan Poets, 18 Ubaldini, Federigo, 33–4, 42, 61–3, 141, 165n Uguccione da Pisa, 23, 45, 161n Vallone, Aldo, 174n Van Engen, John, 155n Vecchio, Silvana, 167n, 169n, 170n Vettori, Vittorio, 167n

Villani, Giovanni, 146n, 147n Vitale, Maurizio, 151n, 154n Vituperium/improperium (derision), 17 Waley, Daniel, 150n, 159n Whitfield, J.H., 175n Wickham, Chris, 153n Wilkins, Ernest Hatch, 165n Wilson, Katharina M., 154n Zaccarello, Michelangelo, 180n