(LA VITA NUOVA.)
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_.[4] 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.
[4] “Here beginneth the new life.”
Nine times already since my birth had the heaven of light 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.[5] 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; 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 colour, 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._[6] 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._[7] At that moment the natural spirit, which
dwelleth there where our nourishment is administered, began to weep,
and in weeping said these words: _Heu miser! quia frequenter impeditus
ero deinceps._[8]
[5] 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.
[6] “Here is a deity stronger than I; who, coming, shall rule over
me.”
[7] “Your beatitude hath now been made manifest unto you.”
[8] “Woe is me! for that often I shall be disturbed from this time
forth!”
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.”[9] 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.
[9]
Οὐδὲ ἐῴκει
Ἀνδρός γε θνητοῦ παῖς ἔμμεναι, ἀλλὰ θεοῖο.
(_Iliad_, xxiv. 258.)
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 to me: for there appeared to be in my room a mist
of the colour 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._[10] In his arms it seemed to me
that a person was sleeping, covered only with a blood-coloured 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_.[11] But when he had remained with me a
little while, I thought that he set himself to awaken her that slept;
after the which he made her to eat that thing which flamed in his hand;
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.
[10] “I am thy master.”
[11] “Behold thy heart.”
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
For true interpretation and kind thought,
Be greeting in our Lord’s name, which is Love.
Of those long hours wherein the stars, above,
Wake and keep watch, the third was almost nought,
When Love was shown me with such terrors fraught
As may not carelessly be spoken of.
He seemed like one who is full of joy, and had
My heart within his hand, and on his arm
My lady, with a mantle round her, slept;
Whom (having wakened her) anon he made
To eat that heart; she ate, as fearing harm.
Then he went out; and as he went, he wept.
_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.”[12] And indeed, it was when he learned that I was he who
had sent those rhymes to him, that our friendship commenced. But the
true meaning of that vision was not then perceived by any one, though
it be now evident to the least skilful.
[12] The friend of whom Dante here speaks was Guido Cavalcanti.
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. But 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.
Now it fell on a day, that this most gracious creature was sitting
where words were to be heard of the Queen of Glory;[13] 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
favour; 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 honour; whereof I shall here write only as much as concerneth the
most gentle Beatrice, which is but a very little. 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.
[13] _i.e._, in a church.
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 to journey afar: wherefore I, being sorely perplexed at the loss
of so excellent a defence, had more trouble than even I could before
have supposed. And thinking that if I spoke not somewhat mournfully
of her departure, my former counterfeiting would be the more quickly
perceived, I determined that I would make a grievous sonnet[14]
thereof; the which I will write here, because it hath certain words
in it whereof my lady was the immediate cause, as will be plain to him
that understands.
[14] It will be observed that this poem is not what we now call a
sonnet. Its structure, however, is analogous to that of the
sonnet, being two sextetts followed by two quatrains, instead
of two quatrains followed by two triplets. Dante applies the
term sonnet to both these forms of composition, and to no
other.