Again, it may be that one member of the pair will be suggestive of the Lesser Aspect, while the other will be associated with the theme of pure praise of the lady—surely an important step in the direction of the Greater Aspect. Of the two characters whom we hear address the lover, the first one is the friend who took him to that fateful wedding feast in Chapter XIV where his lovesick appearance provokes the derision of the ladies; the second one is the lady in Chapter XVIII whose question to the lover leads to his announcement of the program of praise he pretends to have adopted. As for the two streams which, I suggest, may represent sources of inspiration, it is the Lesser Love who in Chapter IX gazes into the stream, then to offer the lover advice about a second screen-lady; in Chapter XIX it is after the lover looks into the stream that there come to him the words “Donne ch’avete intelletto d’amore.”
These are the only pairs in which the relationship between the two members concerns the development of the protagonist. There are a number, however, in which this relationship is meaningful, and in some cases, is of real importance for the story. Mainly, this significance, slight or great, is obvious. Surely the pilgrims of Chapter XL must remind the reader of the pilgrim figure in Chapter IX—whose trivial concerns offer a contrast to those of the pilgrims on their way to Rome, indifferent to things of this world, their thoughts centered on their holy goal. Of greater importance is the duality of “Beatrice alive—Beatrice dead” (reminding the reader of the parallels offered by the life of Saint Alexis and the Song of Roland, in both of which the protagonist’s death confers upon him a new significance and makes of him a source of new inspiration), the importance of this duality being reflected in the two periphrases used for the name of the city of Florence, which is referred to only as the city where Beatrice lived or where she died. And we remember that Beatrice alive is twice described in terms of Beatrice dead. The importance of this duality is also reflected in the shift of position of the divisioni: it is only after Beatrice’s death that the divisione follows the poem (now the reader sees why the author of the Vita nuova chose to postpone this artistic improvement until Chapter XXXI).
As for the two styles in which the Vita nuova is written, prose and poetry, the combination of the two represents a new literary genre in Italian literature. That the only two colors should be colors susceptible of symbolic interpretation and attributed to Beatrice needs no explanation. That the reader’s attention should be called to only two concrete objects is also understandable, but some analysis is required if we would see the relation between the bed in Chapter XXIII and the panels in XXXIV which the lover uses in drawing forms of angels. It was on this bed that the young lover was lying when in his delirium he witnessed the portents of his lady’s death. And it is exactly one year after her death that he is sitting, thinking of her, drawing on these panels; he is surely, on this anniversary, remembering his vision of her death, and perhaps the angels that take form on the “certe tavolette” are those that he saw from his bed of delirium, as they ascended to Heaven.
Still more analysis is required to see the significance of the two ladies at the end of the Vita nuova who make a request for some of the lover’s poems, or the two at the beginning who are with Beatrice when she first greets the protagonist. Why should two (unknown) ladies join in a request for his poetry? and why was Beatrice not accompanied by a group of ladies or by just one lady? As for the scene in which Beatrice makes her first appearance as a young lady, I suggest that the duality, taken first as a minimal indication of plurality, is intended to suggest that entourage of feminine beings without which the figure of the Florentine Beatrice would be unimaginable. And if the duality be interpreted strictly and as subordinated to her own uniqueness, then the two ladies are there so that Beatrice may be associated, visually, with the number 3.
Surely these two ladies are the same as the ones who inspire the poem that closes the Vita nuova: the description of the lover’s spirit gazing with awe at the radiance of Beatrice in glory. These two ladies, who do not appear but merely send word to the young man they once saw receive Beatrice’s first greeting, are now deprived of her company. And he grants their request by choosing two of his poems for them, and exceeds their request by composing a third—it is made clear to the reader that the lover sends two poems plus one; and, in the one, he recreates for them the Beatrice that they and he have lost.
As for the two chapters in which Beatrice is not mentioned, the context supplies the explanation. Chapter XX contains the sonnet “Amore e ’I cor gentil sono una cosa” which treats of love generically, of the “saggia donna” and the effect of her beauty on all men. There is an elegance here in the poet’s discreet omission of any reference to his lady (an omission which he will more than make up for in the next chapter). The lack of any reference to her in Chapter XXXIV has a shameful motivation: the lover has been swept into rapturous infidelity at the sight of the “lady at the window.” But what is most significant, of course, about the negative count of two here illustrated is the positive fact that every other chapter does contain a reference to Beatrice.
Finally, there are pairs whose existence would appear to be a coincidence. What can possibly be the significance of the fact that Chapters VIII and XXVII contain two sonnets, or that in all four visions in which Love appears, he addresses the lover twice? Why are there two mentions of the lover’s liver? Why are there two chapters with essays and two chapters with interpolations? Why does the lover choose two screen-ladies?
It is, of course, possible that only coincidence accounts for this last group of “two’s” but it is more likely that Dante went out of his way to impress “duality” upon the reader’s consciousness-pure duality without any specific significance to detract from the purity. Perhaps there is underlying here something in common with the symbolism underlying the terza rima of the Divine Comedy. The three beasts of Inferno I invite us to think of the major vices, while the three canticles present Hell, Purgatory and Heaven. But the pattern of three lines that continuously recurs as the heart-beat of the poem has no significance except that of “threeness”: the pure symbol of the Trinity. And the purity of duality given by the last group of “two’s” may be a clear reflection of the Great Duality which represents the major theme and underlying movement of the Vita nuova.15
III Growth
The dual nature of the god of Love was, of course, only a reflection of the potentialities of the young lover’s heart. And the rest of this essay, in fact, will be devoted to a study of his heart: his inner conflicts and spiritual development as a lover. The tendency of the critics is to see this development optimistically, and to fix the turning point of the poet-lover’s progress in his inspired decision to write the canzone “Donne ch’avete intelletto d’amore.”
And indeed, according to the prose narrative, Dante wrote this poem as the result of having found a “new matter” for his poetry, of having adopted a new attitude toward his beloved Beatrice—after she refused him her greeting. He comes to realize that, placing his happiness as he had in the ecstasy inspired by her greeting, he had been embracing a false ideal; from now on he would think only of that which could never fail him: the ladv Beatrice’s excellence itself. And his love for her would express itself only in words of praise. This stage is reached in Chapter XVIII, thanks to his meeting with a group of ladies, one of whom proves to be the inspiration for his new program. Properly enough, the first of his poems of praise is addressed to “Donne che avete intelletto d’amore.”1
The story of his love begins in Chapter II: Beatrice makes her first appearance and, by the time the Chapter ends, nine years have passed with the protagonist under the domination of love. The action starts to flow again in Chapter III when the young lover receives Beatrice’s first greeting and, ecstatic, goes home to sleep and to dream that Love appears to him. Soon after this vision his health becomes impaired (IV); his appearance causes concern to his friends and provokes malicious questioning from others who, he deduces, must be jealous of
him. In Chapter V a coincidental meeting of glances inspires in the lover the decision to choose a beautiful lady as a screen for his love of Beatrice, and he begins writing poems to the screen-lady, none of which he includes in his little book. After “several years and several months,” the screen-lady leaves Florence (VII) and the lover deliberately decides to write a poem pretending deep grief.2
The thread of the love story is lost in Chapter VIII, which the author devotes to describing the death of a young lady, one of Beatrice’s companions. In Chapter IX he is in the midst of a journey away from Florence. In his sadness over leaving the place where Beatrice is, he imagines that he sees the figure of Love; the god bids him seek a second screen-lady calling her by name. If in Chapter VI the poet has summed up briefly the time spent in service of his first screen-lady, he uses even fewer words in Chapter X to describe his busy wooing of the second. In fact, before the end of the first sentence we begin to learn of the results of his courtship: “… la feci mia difesa tanto, che troppa gente ne ragionava oltre li termini de la cortesia…” In this brief account there is the momentum and impact of three different movements: his overzealous efforts to convince the lady and the world of a love he did not feel, the stirring up of public opinion which hastened from criticism to slander, and finally, the single act which brought both movements to a halt on the fatal day that Beatrice refused her greeting.3 The dynamics of this brief, condensed chapter has no parallel in the Vita nuova. And, as if to suggest the shock received by the lover, there is no mention in this chapter of his emotional reaction to Beatrice’s rejection.4
Nor is his reaction mentioned in the chapter that follows—which goes back in time to describe, in lingering detail and by stages, the blissful effect that his lady’s greeting has had on him for years (the period of anticipation, the moment of the greeting, the aftermath of lingering ecstasy). Now we can read of his past exaltation, knowing already that this is something that he will never experience again: Chapter XI is a reminiscent pause between the sudden cruel blow dealt the lover by his lady and the outburst of his anguished feelings which must have immediately followed it, but which we learn about only in Chapter XII.5 The chapter begins with his tears (it is the first time he weeps because of Beatrice). He goes to a solitary place and, after his sobbing has quieted down somewhat, he closes himself in his room to fall asleep like a little boy crying from a spanking. That this is not the tragic grief of a mature person is shown by the concluding simile: “come un pargoletto batuto lagrimando.”6 While the lover sleeps he has his third vision of Love—as a result of which he will send Beatrice a ballata imploring her mercy (the first poem he has ever written for her), which will have no effect.
In Chapter XIV is described the scene of his humiliation at the wedding feast, which prompts him to write Beatrice a reproachful sonnet. After this public fiasco the lover is seized by a mood of persistent self-questioning (XV): why seek out Beatrice when the sight of her has such a disastrous effect on him and makes of him such a ludicrous figure? He comes to the realization that whenever he calls to mind her beautiful image, he is overwhelmed by a desire to see her, a desire so strong that it obscures his memory of past experiences. He writes her a sonnet describing again his feelings in her presence, and upbraiding her for the cruelty of her mockery which must kill all pity in others. This sonnet receives the most elaborate divisioni so far recorded in the Vita nuova.
In Chapter XVI he continues to wrestle with similar thoughts and writes a sonnet about them, again to Beatrice. But then, realizing the futility of such outpourings, the protagonist decides (XVII) to be silent about his own condition, even if this means he will never write to her again. And, in fact, he never does.
It is clear that up until the point when the poet-lover arrives at this decision his love has been entirely self-centered, and mainly puerile and sickly. After the description in Chapter II of Beatrice’s beauty, which was praised in panegyrical terms, terms even suggestive of her mystery, she has been presented exclusively, in the following chapters, as the stimulus for his emotions: his ecstasy or his despair. The first feeling reaches its culmination in the rhapsodic description of the threefold effect on him of her greeting; the second, in the very bitter chapters telling of the gabbo and its results, which lead to his decision to seek a new theme for his poetry.
The poem, “Donne ch’avete … ,” which is the result of this decision and of the lover’s conversation with the ladies in Chapter XVIII, should be divided, according to its author, into three main parts: I, II—III—IV, V. The canzone has a circular movement: I and V are alike in that they both contain apostrophes—the first addressed to the ladies, the last to the canzone itself. Moreover, in the first stanza there is briefly created a social ambiente of gentility, when the lover promises to talk of Beatrice with the “Donne e donzelle amorose” as his select audience; and in the last stanza there is a return to this ambi-ente, as the poem is instructed to associate, in its journey to the lady, only with courteous folk. Thus, the canzone is framed by a social background.
But in stanza II, immediately, without transition, the ambiente has changed from the social to the celestial: “Angelo clama in divino intelletto.” In the opening line the Divine Intellect suddenly receives the ecstatic exclamation (note the solemnity of the Latinate clama) of an angel who has just perceived the splendor of a radiance emanating from Earth, penetrating Heaven, and has recognized the miracle of Beatrice. Then, all of Heaven shouts for this lady. In the admonitory words of Pity there is briefly adumbrated the figure of the wistful lover—which immediately fades as the stern voice is heard, in the last two lines, of one proclaiming to the damned in Hell that he has beheld the hope of the Blessèd:
e che dirà ne lo inferno: ‘O mal nati,
io vidi la speranze de’ beati’
(and who shall say unto the damned in Hell:
“I have beheld the hope of Heaven’s blest.”)7
The first line of stanza III, offering a gentle transition, is a reminder that, while the figure of Beatrice passes before the people down on earth, these ’ are looking upon one already coveted by Heaven:
Madonna è disiata in sommo cielo.
Or voi di sua virtù farvi savere.
Dico, qual vuol gentil donna parere
vada con lei, che quando va per via,
gitta nei cor villani Amore un gelo,
per che onne lor penserò agghiaccia e pere;
e qual soffrisse di starla a vedere
diverria nobil cosa, o si morria.
E quando trova alcun che degno sia
di veder lei, quei prova sua vertute,
ché li avvien, ciò che li dona, in salute,
e sì l’umilia, ch’ogni offesa oblia.
Ancor l’ha Dio per maggior grazia dato:
che non pò mal finir chi l’ha parlato.
(My lady is desired in highest heaven.
Now let me tell you something of her power.
A lady who aspires to graciousness
should seek her company for, where she goes,
Love drives a killing frost into vile hearts
that freezes and destroys what they are thinking;
should such a one insist on looking at her,
he is changed to something noble or he dies.
And if she finds one worthy to behold her,
that man will feel her power for salvation
when she accords to him her salutation,
which humbles him, till he forgets all wrongs.
God has graced her with an even greater gift:
whoever speaks with her shall speak with Him.)
This is not the first time that Beatrice has been presented as passing through the streets of Florence; but before this it was as if she were observed by only one person, and as if he alone were impressed by her beauty (II) and her greeting (III). Now, Beatrice’s movement forward is witnessed by all the people of Florence, each one of whom is affected by her presence. And here the effect is exclusivel
y on the moral plane: regenerative or punitive according to the merits of the one having the experience of seeing her.
Stanza IV opens with Beatrice receiving the encomium, the superlative encomium of Love (“Dice di lei Amor …”), who is presented as gazing steadily upon her—then uttering a prophecy of her apotheosis. Unlike the first two stanzas of praise (II and III) which represent units, each in its own setting, this stanza (which offers no “setting” for Love) falls into three parts. The four lines following the testimony of Love are devoted to a description, the only one in the Vita nuova, of Beatrice’s carnal beauty, the coloring of her flesh (“color di perle…”)—it was an elegant move to postpone this allusion to the beauty of Beatrice’s body until after having described the beauty of her soul. By an easy transition, by an allusion to her eyes and their effect upon the beholder, Beatrice comes once more to move among the people of Florence. In the last lines it is not her moral effectiveness that is extolled but her capacity for arousing love, as her glance passes through the eyes of him who looks at her, and reaches his heart.8 But, of course, for Beatrice to awaken love is for her to awaken love of virtue.
Of the five lyrical poems concerned with his love that precede the first canzone (XII, XIII, XIV, XV and XVI), all have in common the lover’s need for pity. And all but the ballata, in which he affirms his loyalty to Beatrice (XII), describe his sad and sickly state. But the canzone is devoted entirely to the glorification of Beatrice. If the lover is present at all in this poem it is only as a figure lost in the mass of Beatrice’s admirers, and the reader is never made directly aware, at any point, of the drama of the lover’s feelings. Truly a new note has been sounded in the Vita nuova.
Dante’s Vita Nuova, New Edition: A Translation and an Essay Page 14