II. Villani. Selections from the Chroniche Fiorentine. Rose E. Selfe. 1897. Translated by 12. Ozanam. Dante and Catholic Philosophy. New York, 1897. THE NEW LIFE. (LA VITA NUOVA.) Translated by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI. I. IN that part of the book of my memory before the which is little that can be read, there is a rubric, saying, Incipit Vita Nova. Under such rubric I find written many things; and among them the words which I purpose to copy into this little book; if not all of them, at the least their substance. II. Nine times already since my birth had the heaven of light 2 returned to the selfsame point almost, as concerns its own revolution, when first the glorious Lady of my mind was made manifest to mine eyes; even she who was called Beatrice by many who knew not wherefore. She had already been in this life for so long as that, within her time, the starry heaven had moved towards the Eastern quarter one of the twelve parts of a degree; 4 so that she appeared to me at the beginning of her ninth year almost, and I saw her almost at the end of my ninth year. Her dress, on that day, was of a most noble color, a subdued and goodly crimson, girdled and adorned in such sort as best suited with her very tender age. At that moment, I say most truly that the spirit of life, which hath its dwelling in the secretest chamber of the heart, began to tremble so violently that the least pulses of my body shook therewith; and in trembling it said these words: Ecce deus fortior me, qui veniens dominabitur mihi.5 At that moment the animate spirit, which dwelleth in the lofty chamber whither all the senses carry their perceptions, was filled with wonder, and speaking more especially unto the spirits of the eyes, said these words: Apparuit jam beatitudo vestra." At that moment the natural spirit, which dwelleth 1 "Here beginneth the new life." 3 In reference to the meaning of the name, "She who confers blessing." We learn from Boccaccio that this first meeting took place at a May Feast, given in the year 1274 by Folco Portinari, father of Beatrice, who ranked among the principal citizens of Florence: to which feast Dante accompanied his father, Alighiero Alighieri. In the Convito (ii. 6) Dante says that the 6 there where our nourishment is administered, began to weep, and in weeping said these words: Heu miser! quia frequenter impeditus ero deinceps.1 I say that, from that time forward, Love quite governed my soul; which was immediately espoused to him, and with so safe and undisputed a lordship (by virtue of strong imagination) that I had nothing left for it but to do all his bidding continually. He oftentimes commanded me to seek if I might see this youngest of the Angels: wherefore I in my boyhood often went in search of her, and found her so noble and praiseworthy that certainly of her might have been said those words of the poet Homer, "She seemed not to be the daughter of a mortal man, but of God." 2 And albeit her image, that was with me always, was an exultation of Love to subdue me, it was yet of so perfect a quality that it never allowed me to be overruled by Love without the faithful counsel of reason, whensoever such counsel was useful to be heard. But seeing that were I to dwell overmuch on the passions and doings of such early youth, my words might be counted something fabulous, I will therefore put them aside; and passing many things that may be conceived by the pattern of these, I will come to such as are writ in my memory with a better distinctness. III. After the lapse of so many days that nine years exactly were completed since the above-written appearance of this most gracious being, on the last of those days it happened that the same wonderful lady appeared to me dressed all in pure white, between two gentle ladies elder than she. And passing through a street, she turned her eyes thither where I stood sorely abashed and by her unspeakable courtesy, which is now guerdoned in the Great Cycle, she saluted me with so virtuous a bearing that I seemed then and there to behold the very limits of blessedness. The hour of her most sweet salutation was exactly the ninth of that day; and because it was the first time that any words from her reached mine ears, I came into such sweetness that I parted thence as one intoxicated. And betaking me to the loneliness of mine own room, I fell to thinking of this most courteous lady, thinking of whom I was overtaken by a pleasant slumber, wherein a marvellous vision was presented for me: for there appeared to be in my room a mist of the color of fire, within the which I discerned the figure of a lord of terrible aspect to such as should gaze upon him, but who seemed therewithal to rejoice inwardly that it was a marvel to see. Speaking he said many things, among the which I could understand but few; and of these, this: Ego dominus tuus. In his arms it seemed to me that a person was sleeping, covered only with a bloodcolored cloth; upon whom looking very attentively, I knew that it was the lady of the salutation who had deigned the day before to salute me. And he who held her held also in his hand a thing that was burning in flames; and he said to me, Vide cor tuum.5 But when he had remained with me a little while, I thought that he set himself to awaken her that slept; after 1"Woe is me! for that often I shall be dis- Kritischer Text, unter Benützung von 35 bekannturbed from this time forth!" ten Handschriften) all give grande secolo," the other life," "the eternal world."— K. 2 « Οὐδὲ ἐῴκει Iliad, xxiv. 258. 3 Fraticelli, Moore, and Beck (Vita Nova, ̓Ανδρός γε θνητοῦ παῖς ἔμμεναι, ἀλλὰ θεοῖο.” the which he made her to eat that thing which flamed in his hand;1 and she ate as one fearing. Then, having waited again a space, all his joy was turned into most bitter weeping; and as he wept he gathered the 'lady into his arms, and it seemed to me that he went with her up towards heaven whereby such a great anguish came upon me that my light slumber could not endure through it, but was suddenly broken. And immediately having considered, I knew that the hour wherein this vision had been made manifest to me was the fourth hour (which is to say, the first of the nine last hours) of the night. Then, musing on what I had seen, I proposed to relate the same to many poets who were famous in that day: and for that I had myself in some sort the art of discoursing with rhyme, I resolved on making a sonnet, in the which, having saluted all such as are subject unto Love, and entreated them to expound my vision, I should write unto them those things which I had seen in my sleep. And the sonnet I made was this: To every heart which the sweet pain doth move, And unto which these words may now be brought Be greeting in our Lord's name, which is Love. Wake and keep watch, the third was almost naught,. He seemed like one who is full of joy, and had This sonnet is divided into two parts. In the first part I give greeting, and ask an answer; in the second, I signify what thing has to be answered to. The second part commences here: "Of those long hours." To this sonnet I received many answers, conveying many different opinions; of the which one was sent by him whom I now call the first among my friends, and it began thus, "Unto my thinking thou beheld'st all worth." 2 And indeed, it was when he learned that I was he who had sent 1 Dante may here have had in mind the strange story of the Troubadour Guillem de Cabestaing. See Diez, Leben und Werke der Troubadours, p. 71. — K. 2 The friend of whom Dante here speaks was Guido Cavalcanti. The answer is as follows: "Unto my thinking, thou beheld'st all worth, All joy, as much of good as man may know, Where evil dies, even there he has his birth, Other answers were sent by Cino da Pistoia and Dante da Maiano. those rhymes to him, that our friendship commenced. But the true mean ing of that vision was not then perceived by any one, though it be now evident to the least skilful. IV. From that night forth, the natural functions of my body began to be vexed and impeded, for I was given up wholly to thinking of this most gracious creature: whereby in short space I became so weak and so reduced that it was irksome to many of my friends to look upon me; while others, being moved by spite, went about to discover what it was my wish should be concealed. Wherefore I (perceiving the drift of their unkindly questions), by Love's will, who directed me according to the counsels of reason, told them how it was Love himself who had thus dealt with me: and I said so, because the thing was so plainly to be discerned in my countenance that there was no longer any means of concealing it. when they went on to ask, "And by whose help hath Love done this?" I looked in their faces smiling, and spake no word in return. But V. Now it fell on a day, that this most gracious creature was sitting where words were to be heard of the Queen of Glory; and I was in a place whence mine eyes could behold their beatitude: and betwixt her and me, in a direct line, there sat another lady of a pleasant favor; who looked round at me many times, marvelling at my continued gaze which seemed to have her for its object. And many perceived that she thus looked; so that departing thence, I heard it whispered after me, "Look you to what a pass such a lady hath brought him"; and in saying this they named her who had been midway between the most gentle Beatrice and mine eyes. Therefore I was reassured, and knew that for that day my secret had not become manifest. Then immediately it came into my mind that I might make use of this lady as a screen to the truth: and so well did I play my part that the most of those who had hitherto watched and wondered at me, now imagined they had found me out. By her means I kept my secret concealed till some years were gone over; and for my better security, I even made divers rhymes in her honor; whereof I shall here write only as much as concerneth the most gentle Beatrice, which is but a very little. VI. Moreover, about the same time while this lady was a screen for so much love on my part, I took the resolution to set down the name of this most gracious creature accompanied with many other women's names, and especially with hers whom I spake of. And to this end I put together the names of sixty of the most beautiful ladies in that city where God had placed mine own lady; and these names I introduced in an epistle in the form of a sirvent; which it is not my intention to transcribe here. Neither should I have said anything of this matter, did I not wish to take note of a certain strange thing, to wit: that having written the list, I found my lady's name would not stand otherwise than ninth in order among the names of these ladies. VII. Now it so chanced with her by whose means I had thus long time concealed my desire, that it behoved her to leave the city I speak of, and 1 I.e. in a church. 2 This anxiety to keep his love secret is quite in line with the Troubadours. Cf. Diez, Die Poesie der Troubadours, p. 129. — K. 3 In Provençal a sirventes was a song of praise or blame, originally composed by a court poet for his lord (from servire, to serve). This poem of Dante has been lost. - K. |