ON THE LOVE OF DANTE FOR BEATRICE PORTINARI.
Had I taken chronology into due consideration, Dante ought to have
preceded Petrarch, having been born some forty years before him,--but I
forgot it. "Truth," says Wordsworth, "has her pleasure-grounds,
Her haunts of ease
And easy contemplation;--gay parterres
And labyrinthine walks; her sunny glades
And shady groves for recreation framed."
And such a haunted pleasure-ground of beautiful recollections, would I
wish my subject to be to myself and to my readers; where we shall be
priviledged to wander at will; to pause or turn back; to deviate to
this side or to that, as memory may prompt, or imagination lead, or
illustration require.
Dante and his Beatrice are best exhibited in contrast to Petrarch and
Laura. Petrarch was in his youth an amiable and accomplished courtier,
whose ambition was to cultivate the arts, and please the fair. Dante
early plunged into the factions which distracted his native city, was of
a stern commanding temper, mingling study with action. Petrarch loved
with all the vivacity of his temper; he took a pleasure in publishing,
in exaggerating, in embellishing his passion in the eyes of the world.
Dante, capable of strong and enthusiastic tenderness, and early
concentrating all the affections of his heart on one object, sought no
sympathy; and solemnly tells us of himself,--in contradistinction to
those poets of his time who wrote of love from fashion or fancy, not
from feeling,--that he wrote as love inspired, and as his heart
dictated.
"Io mi son un che, quando
Amore spira, noto, ed in quel modo
Ch'ei detta dentro, vo significando."
PURGATORIO, c. 24.
A coquette would have triumphed in such a captive as Petrarch; and in
truth, Laura seems to have "sounded him from the top to the bottom of
his compass:"--a tender and impassioned woman would repose on such a
heart as Dante's, even as his Beatrice did. Petrarch had a gay and
captivating exterior; his complexion was fair, with sparkling blue eyes
and a ready smile. He is very amusing on the subject of his own
coxcombry, and tells us how cautiously he used to turn the corner of a
street, lest the wind should disorder the elaborate curls of his fine
hair! Dante, too, was in his youth eminently handsome, but in a style of
beauty which was characteristic of his mind: his eyes, were large and
intensely black, his nose aquiline, his complexion of a dark olive, his
hair and beard very much curled, his step slow and measured, and the
habitual expression of his countenance grave, with a tinge of melancholy
abstraction. When Petrarch walked along the streets of Avignon, the
women smiled, and said, "there goes the lover of Laura!" The impression
which Dante left on those who beheld him, was far different. In allusion
to his own personal appearance, he used to relate an incident that once
occurred to him. When years of persecution and exile had added to the
natural sternness of his countenance, the deep lines left by grief, and
the brooding spirit of vengeance, he happened to be at Verona, where
since the publication of the Inferno, he was well known. Passing one day
by a portico, where several women were seated, one of them whispered,
with a look of awe,--"Do you see that man? that is he who goes down to
hell whenever he pleases, and brings us back tidings of the sinners
below!" "Ay, indeed!" replied her companion,--"very likely; see how his
face is scarred with fire and brimstone, and blackened with smoke, and
how his hair and beard have been singed and curled in the flames!"
Dante had not, however, this forbidding appearance when he won the young
heart of Beatrice Portinari. They first met at a banquet given by her
father, Folco de' Portinari, when Dante was only nine years old, and
Beatrice a year younger. His childish attachment, as he tells us
himself, commenced from that hour; it became a passion, which increased
with his years, and did not perish even with its object.
Beatrice has not fared better at the hands of commentators than Laura.
Laura, with her golden hair scattered to the winds, "i capei d'oro al
aura sporsi," her soft smiles, and her angel-like deportment, was to be
Repentance; and the more majestic Beatrice, in whose eyes dwelt love,
E spiriti d'amore infiammati,
was sublimated into _Theology_: with how much reason we shall examine.
In one of his canzoni, called il Ritratto, (the Portrait) Dante has left
us a most minute and finished picture of his Beatrice, "which," says Mr.
Carey, "might well supply a painter with a far more exalted idea of
female beauty, than he could form to himself from the celebrated Ode of
Anacreon, on a similar subject." From this canzone and some lines
scattered through his sonnets, I shall sketch the person and character
of Beatrice. She was not in form like the slender, fragile-looking
Laura, but on a larger scale of loveliness, tall and of a commanding
figure;[38]--graceful in her gait as a peacock, upright as a crane,
Soava a guisa va di un bel pavone,
Diritta sopra se, come una grua.
Her hair was fair and curling,
"Capegli crespi e biondi,"
but not _golden_,--an epithet I do not find once applied to it: she had
an ample forehead, "spaciosa fronte," a mouth that when it smiled
surpassed all things in sweetness; so that her Poet would give the
universe to hear it pronounce a kind "yes."
Mira che quando ride
Passa ben di dolcezza ogni altra cosa.
Cosi di quella bocca il pensier mio
Mi sprona, perche io
Non ho nel mondo cosa che non desse
A tal ch'un si, con buon voler dicesse.
Her neck was white and slender, springing gracefully from the bust--
Poi guarda la sua svelta e bianca gola
Commessa ben dalle spalle e dal petto.
A small, round, dimpled chin,
Mento tondo, fesso e piccioletto:
and thereupon the Poet breaks out into a rapture, any thing but
theological,
Il bel diletto
Aver quel collo fra le braccia stretto
E far in quella gola un picciol segno!
Her arms were beautiful and round; her hand soft, white, and polished;
La bianca mano morbida e pulita:
her fingers slender, and decorated with jewelled rings as became her
birth; fair she was as a pearl;
Con un color angelica di perla:
graceful and lovely to look upon, but disdainful where it was becoming:
Graziosa a vederla,
E disdegnosa dove si conviene.
And as a corollary to these traits, I will quote the eleventh Sonnet as
a more general picture of female loveliness, heightened by some tender
touches of mental and moral beauty, such as never seem to have occurred
to the debased imaginations of the classic poets:
Negli occhi porta la mia Donna Amore;
Perche si fa gentil ciocch' ella mira:
Ov' ella passa, ogni uom ver lei si gira;
E cui saluta, fa tremar lo core,
Sicche bassando 'l viso tutto smuore,
Ed ogni suo difetto allor sospira;
Fugge dinanzi a lei superbia ed ira.
Ajutatemi, donne, a farle onore!
Ogni dolcezza, ogni pensiero umile
Nasce nel core a chi parlar la sente;
Onde e laudato chi prima la vide.
Quel ch' ella par, quando un poco sorride
No si puo dicer, ne tenera mente;
Si e nuovo miracolo e gentile.
TRANSLATION.
"Love is throned in the eyes of my Beatrice! they ennoble
every thing she looks upon! As she passes, men turn and
gaze; and whomsoever she salutes, his heart trembles within
him; he bows his head, the colour forsakes his cheek, and he
sighs for his own unworthiness. Pride and anger fly before
her! Assist me, ladies, to do her honour! All sweet thoughts
of humble love and good-will spring in the hearts of those
who hear her speak, so that it is a blessedness first to
behold her, and when she faintly and softly smiles--ah! then
it passes all fancy, all expression, so wondrous is the
miracle, and so gracious!"
The love of Dante for his Beatrice partook of the purity, tenderness,
and elevated character of her who inspired it, and was also stamped with
that stern and melancholy abstraction, that disposition to mysticism,
which were such strong features in the character of her lover. He does
not break out into fond and effeminate complaints, he does not sigh to
the winds, nor swell the fountain with his tears; his love does not,
like Petrarch's, alternately freeze and burn him, nor is it "un dolce
amaro," "a bitter sweet," with which his fancy can sport in good set
terms. No; it shakes his whole being like an earthquake; it beats in
every pulse and artery; it has dwelt in his heart till it has become a
part of his life, or rather his life itself.[39] Though we are not told
so expressly, it is impossible to doubt, on a consideration of all those
passages and poems which relate to Beatrice, that his love was approved
and returned, and that his character was understood and appreciated by a
woman too generous, too noble-minded, to make him the sport of her
vanity. He complains, indeed, _poetically_, of her disdain, for which he
excuses himself in another poem: "We know that the heavens shine on in
eternal serenity, and that it is only our imperfect vision, and the
rising vapours of the earth, that make the ever-beaming stars appear
clouded at times to our eye." He expresses no fear of a rival in her
affections; but the native jealousy as well as delicacy of his temper
appears in those passages in which he addresses the eulogium of Beatrice
to the Florentine ladies and her young companions.[40] Those of his own
sex, as he assures us, were not worthy to listen to her praises; or must
perforce have become enamoured of this picture of female excellence, the
fear of which made a coward of him--
Ma trattero del suo stato gentile
Donne e donzelle amorose, con vui;
Che non e cosa da parlarne altrui.
Among the young companions of Beatrice, Dante particularly distinguishes
one, who appears to have been her chosen friend, and who, on account of
her singular and blooming beauty, was called, at Florence, Primavera,
(the Spring.) Her real name was Giovanna. Dante frequently names them
together, and in particular in that exquisitely fanciful sonnet to his
friend Guido Cavalcanti; where he addresses them by those familiar and
endearing diminutives, so peculiarly Italian--
E Monna Vanna e Monna Bice poi.[41]
It appears from the 7th and 8th Sonnets of the Vita Nuova, that in the
early part of their intercourse, Beatrice, indulging her girlish
vivacity, smiled to see her lover utterly discountenanced in her
presence, and pointed out her triumph to her companions. This offence
seems to have deeply affected the proud, susceptible mind of Dante: it
was under the influence of some such morose feeling, probably on this
very occasion, that his dark passions burst forth in the bitter lines
beginning,
Io maledico il di ch' io vidi imprima
La luce de' vostri occhi traditori.
"I curse the day in which I first beheld the splendour of those traitor
eyes," &c. This angry sonnet forms a fine characteristic contrast with
that eloquent and impassioned effusion of Petrarch, in which he
multiplies blessings on the day, the hour, the minute, the season, and
the spot, in which he first beheld Laura--
Benedetto sia l' giorno, e 'l mese, e l' anno, &c.
This fit of indignation was, however, short-lived. Every tender emotion
of Dante's feeling heart seems to have been called forth when Beatrice
lost her excellent father. Folco Portinari died in 1289; and the
description we have of the inconsolable grief of Beatrice and the
sympathy of her young companions,--so poetically, so delicately touched
by her lover,--impress us with a high idea both of her filial tenderness
and the general amiability of her disposition, which rendered her thus
beloved. In the 12th and 13th Sonnets, we have, perhaps, one of the most
beautiful groups ever presented in poetry. Dante meets a company of
young Florentine ladies, who were returning from paying Beatrice a visit
of condolence on the death of her father. Their altered and dejected
looks, their downcast eyes, and cheeks "colourless as marble," make his
heart tremble within him; he asks after Beatrice--"_our_ gentle lady,"
as he tenderly expresses it: the young girls raise their downcast eyes,
and regard him with surprise. "Art thou he," they exclaim, "who hast so
often sung to us the praises of our Beatrice? the voice, indeed, is his;
but, oh! how changed the aspect! Thou weepest!--why shouldest _thou_
weep?--thou hast not seen _her_ tears;--leave _us_ to weep and return to
our home, refusing comfort; for we, indeed, have heard her speak, and
seen her dissolved in grief; so changed is her lovely face by sorrow,
that to look upon her is enough to make one die at her feet for
pity."[42]
It should seem that the extreme affliction of Beatrice for the loss of
her father, acting on a delicate constitution, hastened her own end, for
she died within a few months afterwards, in her 24th year. In the "Vita
Nuova" there is a fragment of a canzone, which breaks off at the end of
the first strophe; and annexed to it is the following affecting note,
originally in the handwriting of Dante.
"I was engaged in the composition of this Canzone, and had completed
only the above stanza, when it pleased the God of justice to call unto
himself this gentlest of human beings; that she might be glorified
under the auspices of that blessed Queen, the Virgin Maria, whose name
was ever held in especial reverence by my sainted Beatrice."
Boccaccio, who knew Dante personally, tells us, that on the death of
Beatrice, he was so changed by affliction that his best friends could
scarcely recognise him. He scarcely eat or slept; he would not speak; he
neglected his person, until he became "una cosa selvatica a vedere," _a
savage thing to the eye_: to borrow his own strong expression, he seems
to have been "grief-stung to madness." To the first Canzone, written
after the death of Beatrice, Dante has prefixed a note, in which he
tells us, that after he had long wept in silence the loss of her he
loved, he thought to give utterance to his sorrow in words; and to
compose a Canzone, in which he should write, (weeping as he wrote,) of
the virtues of her who through much anguish had bowed his soul to the
earth. "Then," he says, "I thus began:--gli occhi dolenti,"--which are
the first words of this Canzone. It is addressed, like the others, to
her female companions, whom alone he thought worthy to listen to her
praises, and whose gentle hearts could alone sympathise in his grief.
Non vo parlare altrui
Se non a cor gentil, che 'n donna sia!
One stanza of this Canzone is unequalled, I think, for a simplicity at
once tender and sublime. The sentiment, or rather the meaning, in homely
English phrase, would run thus:--
"Ascended is our Beatrice to the highest Heaven, to those realms where
angels dwell in peace; and you, her fair companions, and Love and me,
she has left, alas! behind. It was not the frost of winter that chilled
her, nor was it the heat of summer that withered her; it was the power
of her virtue, her humility, and her truth, that ascending into Heaven
moved the ETERNAL FATHER to call her to himself, seeing that this
miserable life was not worthy of any thing so fair, so excellent!"
On the anniversary of the death of Beatrice, Dante tells us that he was
sitting alone, thinking upon her, and tracing, as he meditated, the
figure of an angel on his tablets.[43] Can any one doubt that this
little incident, so natural and so affecting,--his thinking on his lost
Beatrice, and by association sketching the figure of an angel, while his
mind dwelt upon her removal to a brighter and better world,--must have
been real? It gave rise to the 18th Sonnet of the Vita Nuova, which he
calls "Il doloroso annovale," (the mournful anniversary.)
Another little circumstance, not less affecting, he has beautifully
commemorated in two Sonnets which follow the one last mentioned. They
are addressed to some kind and gentle creature, who from a window beheld
Dante abandon himself, with fearful vehemence, to the agony of his
feelings, when he believed no human eye was on him. "She turned pale,"
he says, "with compassion; her eyes filled with tears, as if she had
loved me: then did I remember my noble-hearted Beatrice, for even thus
she often looked upon me," &c. And he confesses that the grateful, yet
mournful pleasure with which he met the pitying look of this fair being,
excited remorse in his heart, that he should be able to derive pleasure
from anything.
Dante concludes the collection of his _Rime_, (his miscellaneous poems
on the subject of his early love) with this remarkable note:--
"I beheld a marvellous vision, which has caused me to cease from writing
in praise of my blessed Beatrice, until I can celebrate her more
worthily; which that I may do, I devote my whole soul to study, as _she_
knoweth well; in so much, that if it please the Great Disposer of all
things to prolong my life for a few years upon this earth, I hope
hereafter to sing of my Beatrice what never yet was said or sung of
woman.'"
And in this transport of enthusiasm, Dante conceived the idea of his
great poem, of which Beatrice was destined to be the heroine. It was to
no Muse, called by fancy from her fabled heights, and feigned at the
poet's will; it was not to ambition of fame, nor literary leisure
seeking a vent for overflowing thoughts; nor to the wish to aggrandise
himself, or to flatter the pride of a patron;--but to the inspiration of
a young, beautiful, and noble-minded woman, we owe one of the grandest
efforts of human genius. And never did it enter into the imagination of
any lover, before or since, to raise so mighty, so vast, so enduring, so
glorious a monument to the worth and charms of a mistress. Other poets
were satisfied if they conferred on the object of their love an
immortality on earth: Dante was not content till he had placed _his_ on
a throne in the Empyreum, above choirs of angels, in presence of the
very fountain of glory; her brow wreathed with eternal beams, and
clothed with the ineffable splendours of beatitude;--an apotheosis,
compared to which, all others are earthly and poor indeed.
FOOTNOTES:
[38] "Membra formosi et grandi."
[39] It borrows even the solemn language of Sacred Writ to express its
intensity:
Nelle man vostre, o dolce donna mia!
Raccomando lo spirito che muore.
SON. 34.
[40] I refer particularly to that sublime Canzone addressed to the
ladies of Florence, and beginning
"Donne ch' avete intelletto d' amore."
[41] Monna Vanna, for _Madonna Giovanna_; and Monna Bice, _Madonna
Beatrice_.
This famous sonnet has been translated by Hayley and by Shelley. I
subjoin the version of the latter, as truer to the spirit of the
original.
THE WISH.--TO GUIDO CAVALCANTI.
Guido! I would that Lapo, thou, and I,
Led by some strong enchantment, might ascend
A magic ship, whose charmed sails should fly
With winds at will, where'er our thoughts might wend:
And that no change, nor any evil chance
Should mar our joyous voyage; but it might be
That even satiety should still enhance
Between our hearts their strict community,
And that the bounteous wizard there would place
Vanna and Bice, and thy gentle love,
Companions of our wanderings, and would grace
With passionate talk, wherever we might rove
Our time!--and each were as content and free
As I believe that thou and I should be!
[42] Sonnetto 13 (Poesie della Vita Nuova.)
[43] Vita Nuova, p. 268.