As one wandered about the palace and the streets of Poppi, the thought arose if and under what circumstances Dante stayed here. He is known to have come into the Casentino during the early part of his exile—that is, about the year 1305; he was here again in March and April of 1311, as is proved by the letters he wrote and dated from here. One of these contains the fierce invective against Florence, the other expresses the fears which the poet apprehended from the Emperor’s delay. They are dated “on the confines of Tuscany near the springs of the Arno,” and on the strength of this expression the strongholds of Poppi, Romena and Porciano, besides Pratovecchio, claim to have harboured the poet.

These different strongholds, at the beginning of the fourteenth century, were still in the possession of different branches of the Guidi family. The castle of Pratovecchio was owned by Count Guido Selvatico, who belonged to

the branch of the family which embraced Guelf sympathies. He fought on the side of the Guelfs at Campaldino, at Florence he afterwards joined the Neri, and his sympathies were therefore akin to those of Dante. Boccaccio tells us that Dante enjoyed the hospitality of Guido Selvatico, and this would be during the early part of his exile. The wife of Guido Selvatico was Manessa, the daughter of Buonconte, who perished at Campaldino, and it is generally supposed that Dante’s relation to Manessa caused him to introduce the account of Buonconte’s flight into the Comedy.

There is extant a letter of Dante, in which he describes how, after setting foot by the streams of the Arno, he made the acquaintance of a woman whom he thought in all respects suited to his inclination, his character and his fortunes. This lady so inspired him that he gave up his resolve to keep aloof from women and from songs about women. He composed a canzone in her praise, a copy of which he appended to the letter. But the lady’s name and her whereabouts have always remained a mystery.

From which of the other strongholds Dante dated the letters of 1311 is difficult to decide. The expression “Capo d’Arno” may well refer to Poppi, which is the first place reached coming over the hills from Florence by the old road. Its castle, as we have seen, was owned at this time by the younger Count Guido of Battifolle, who, after his uncle’s death, was called Guido Novello, and who, after re-building the castle, quietly dwelt there. He was comparatively peace-loving, and lived on friendly terms with his cousin of Pratovecchio; their sons too were friends. When the Emperor, in 1312, summoned the Guidi to join him in his march on Florence, Guido Novello the younger did not respond to the call, but sent troops in aid of the city. He became podestÀ of Florence a few years later, and it was during the term of his rule that the proposal was tendered to Dante to return to Florence, but on terms which the poet felt unable to accept.

Villani tells us that this Count Guido caused a large part of the Palazzo Vecchio to be rebuilt on the plan of his palace at Poppi. Perhaps this act caused his portrait to be introduced in a fresco of the Capella degli Spagnuoli, one of the greatest monuments of fourteenth-century art. The Count, who stands as a beardless youth on the staircase at Poppi, is here represented in manhood. He is seen in profile, forming one of a group which includes Cimabue, Boccaccio, Petrarch and Laura.

The wife of this Count Guido was Gherardesca, the daughter of Count Ugolino, who with his sons died of starvation at Pisa. The description of their sufferings is among the most terrible of the Divine Comedy. Several letters have recently come to light addressed by Gherardesca to Margaret, the consort of the Emperor, and, partly because these letters are preserved with the letters of Dante, partly because of certain peculiarities in their style, the opinion has been advanced that they were drafted by Dante. One of them is of the year 1311 and is dated from Poppi.

Among the Novelle, or short stories, which Sacchetti put into writing in the fourteenth century, one (nr. 179) tells what befell one day when Countess Gherardesca of Poppi, and Countess Manessa of Pratovecchio, were crossing Campaldino together. It is intended to illustrate the sharp tongue and ready wit of the female sex. Gherardesca was a proud lady, and she attracted her companion’s attention to the promising state of the harvest. With reference to the defeat of the Ghibellines there, among whom Buonconte, Manessa’s father, had fought, she remarked that the corn no doubt stood so high in consequence of the blood that had been spilt there. But Manessa met her in the same spirit. Alluding to the death by starvation of Ugolino, the father of Gherardesca, she replied that they would no doubt enjoy a fine harvest provided they did not die of starvation before it was ripe. Gherardesca pretended not to understand, and so they continued their walk together in peace.

While Dante’s relations with the owner of Poppi leave room for conjecture, his connection with the Counts of Romena rests on a firm foundation. The stronghold of Romena, judging by the position and extent of its ruins, was the most imposing castle of the Casentino.

There was a Count Alessandro of Romena who was a leader of the Guelfs of Tuscany against the Ghibellines in 1288. He afterwards joined the Bianchi and was expelled from Florence. Later we find him captain of the exiles at Arezzo. He led the attack on Florence which ensued, and died shortly afterwards. Dante then addressed a letter of condolence to his nephews, the Counts Oberto and Guido of Romena, in which he deplored the death of one who had such greatness of soul, and added much to his praise. He would have come to the funeral but that, being an exile, he was deprived of the necessary horses and arms.

The idea has been accepted by some scholars and rejected by others that this Count Alessandro was identical with the Count of Romena of the same name, who, with Guido and another brother, employed the forger Adamo of Brescia to coin false florins at Romena. The reader of Dante is familiar with the figure of Adamo, whom the poet found in Hell, suffering from dropsy and terrible thirst. He told him how he was burnt alive for his acts at Romena, and how he longed for the sight of those who employed him—one of the counts, he has heard, is already in Hell. Falsified florins were discovered in 1281; a cairn on the road above Romena is popularly held to mark the spot where Adamo was burnt. It is locally known as the “Maccia del Uomo Morto,” and travellers not many years back were wont to throw a stone on it in passing. The genealogy of the owners of Romena, however, remains a matter of dispute. On the face of it, it seems improbable that Dante thought well of the abettor of a forger, or relegated a man he admired to Hell. Still these were stirring times of changing sympathies, and though the view has been advanced that there were two Counts Alessandro, uncle and nephew, the evidence brought forward by Passerini, who argues that there was but one, has never been conclusively disproved.

Above Romena, at the head of the valley, lie the ruins of Porciano, and the expression “Capo d’Arno,” if taken literally, would apply to it. But Dante’s relation with its counts is based on legend only. They were a set of lawless, changeful men. There was a Count Guido of Porciano who was condemned in 1282 by the city of Florence to pay five thousand lire for murder, theft and arson. He had eight sons, and several of them were fined in 1291 for waylaying and robbing a merchant from Ancona. In 1311 five of the brothers received the ambassadors of the Emperor at San Godenzo and swore fealty to the Imperial cause, but four of them afterwards deserted it. If Dante thought favourably of those of Porciano for their Imperial sympathies, it cannot have lasted. For in describing the sources of the Arno in the Comedy he says that the river takes its rise among “foul hogs more worthy of galls than of any food made for the use of man,” with obvious reference to the meaning of the word porci as contained in the place-name Porciano.

A tradition is preserved, according to which the poet was kept prisoner at Porciano, possibly after the battle of Campaldino. An anecdote intended to illustrate his ready wit is localised here. The poet, we are told, had left the castle and was walking down the hill when he met some men from Florence, who were sent to take him into custody. They did not recognise him, and asked if Dante were at Porciano, and he replied, “He was there while I was!”

There seemed no end to the stories associated with Dante which were localised in this neighbourhood. Palmieri, a writer of the early fifteenth century, described an incident, which he says befell Dante on Campaldino. The poet and the triumphant Guelfs after the battle pursued the enemy as far as Bibbiena and beyond it, and on the third day they returned to look for their friends and to bury the dead. Dante found a friend, who either “was not quite dead or else suddenly revived,” and who proceeded to describe what he had seen during these days of Hell and Purgatory, words through which the whole plan of the Comedy was revealed to Dante. The account contains expressions which recall Dante’s description, still it is sufficiently distinct. It rambles on over about half a dozen pages in print without definite plan or purpose.

It was with a feeling of regret that we left Poppi, which played so important a part in the history of the district. We left it early one morning and crossed Campaldino, now, as six hundred years ago, green with sprouting corn. Beyond it the driving road over the Consuma begins its steady ascent along a mountain spur which is formed by the Arno and its tributary the Solano. The old road branched off, following the course of the Solano, and up this we went to explore.

I presume that foreigners carrying knapsacks for their convenience do not often walk in these parts. We had been accosted before and asked what our roba was, and women especially joined us along the road in hopes of driving a bargain in needles and scissors. In the valley of the Solano our appearance brought concern to the heart of a professional pedlar, who eyed us askance. When we came down the valley again in the afternoon we were met by a woman, who told us she had been looking out for us ever since we went past in the morning; might she see our wares? She too looked upon us as rivals of the pedlar.

We found the narrow, tortuous valley of the Solano oppressive and unattractive, and we did not penetrate much beyond Strada San Niccolo, a town of high houses built close between the mountain sides. Here too the history of many centuries lay condensed, as it were, in a nutshell. The ancient church near the castle, now deserted—the ruins of the castle itself, long a stronghold of the Guidi, which the growing Commune destroyed in the fifteenth century—the modern city with its manufactories—each represented a special phase in the history of growing civilisation.

The city of Borgo-alla-Collina on the Consuma road, to which we returned, bore a very different character. Situated on a breezy height, its wide streets were grass-grown, and its low, rambling houses looked desolate. Here Christofero Landini, the author of the Conversations of Camaldoli, spent the last years of his life. He had been the teacher of Lorenzo the Magnificent; he afterwards became Chancellor of the Republic of Florence, and a palace at Borgo was given him in acknowledgment of his services. AmpÈre, in his Voyages dantesques, tells an amusing incident which happened to him here. A priest offered to show him the uncorrupted body of a saint, and he showed AmpÈre a dried mummy in a sarcophagus. But when AmpÈre looked at the inscription on the sarcophagus he saw that the holy man here displayed was none other than Landini.

We did not stay to see the wonderful relic.

CASTEL SAN NICCOLO