INTRODUCTION.
THE NEW LIFE. LA VITA NUOVA.
I.
II.
I.
II.
PREFATORY NOTE
Dante
Gabriel Rossetti, being the son of an Italian who was greatly
immersed in the study of Dante Alighieri, and who produced a Comment
on the Inferno,
and other books relating to Dantesque literature, was from his
earliest childhood familiar with the name of the stupendous
Florentine, and to some extent aware of the range and quality of his
writings. Nevertheless—or perhaps indeed it may have been partly on
that very account—he did not in those opening years read Dante to
any degree worth mentioning: he was well versed in Shakespeare,
Walter Scott, Byron, and some other writers, years before he applied
himself to Dante. He may have been fourteen years of age, or even
fifteen (May 1843), before he took seriously to the author of the
Divina Commedia. He
then read him eagerly, and with the profoundest admiration and
delight; and from the
Commedia he
proceeded to the lyrical poems and the
Vita Nuova. I
question whether he ever read—unless in the most cursory way—other
and less fascinating writings of Alighieri, such as the
Convito and the
De Monarchiâ.From
reading, Rossetti went on to translating. He translated at an early
age, chiefly between 1845 and 1849, a great number of poems by the
Italians contemporary with Dante, or preceding him; and, among other
things, he made a version of the whole
Vita Nuova, prose
and verse. This may possibly have been the first important thing that
he translated from the Italian: if not the first, still less was it
the last, and it may well be that his rendering of the book was
completed within the year 1846, or early in 1847. He did not, of
course, leave his version exactly as it had come at first: on the
contrary, he took counsel with friends (Alfred Tennyson among the
number), toned down crudities and juvenilities, and worked to make
the whole thing impressive and artistic—for in such matters he was
much more chargeable with over-fastidiousness than with laxity.
Still, the work, as we now have it, is essentially the work of those
adolescent years—from time to time reconsidered and improved, but
not transmuted.Some
few years after producing his translation of the
Vita Nuova,
Rossetti was desirous of publishing it, and of illustrating the
volume with etchings from various designs, which he had meanwhile
done, of incidents in the story. This project, however, had to be
laid aside, owing to want of means, and the etchings were never
undertaken. It was only in 1861 that the volume named
The Early Italian Poets,
including the translated
Vita Nuova, was
brought out: the same volume, with a change in the arrangement of its
contents, was reissued in 1874, entitled
Dante and his Circle.
This book, in its original form, was received with favour, and
settled the claim of Rossetti to rank as a poetic translator, or
indeed as a poet in his own right.For
The Early Italian Poets
he wrote a Preface, from which a passage, immediately relating to the
Vita Nuova, is
extracted in the present edition. There are some other passages,
affecting the whole of the translations in that volume, which deserve
to be borne in mind, as showing the spirit in which he undertook the
translating work, and I give them here:—
“The
life-blood of rhythmical translation is this commandment—that a
good poem shall not be turned into a bad one. The only true motive
for putting poetry into a fresh language must be to endow a fresh
nation, as far as possible, with one more possession of beauty.
Poetry not being an exact science, literality of rendering is
altogether secondary to this chief law. I say
literality,—not
fidelity, which is by no means the same thing. When literality can be
combined with what is thus the primary condition of success, the
translator is fortunate, and must strive his utmost to unite them;
when such object can only be obtained by paraphrase, that is his only
path. Any merit possessed by these translations is derived from an
effort to follow this principle.... The task of the translator (and
with all humility be it spoken) is one of some self-denial. Often
would he avail himself of any special grace of his own idiom and
epoch, if only his will belonged to him: often would some cadence
serve him but for his author’s structure—some structure but for
his author’s cadence: often the beautiful turn of a stanza must be
weakened to adopt some rhyme which will tally, and he sees the poet
revelling in abundance of language where himself is scantily
supplied. Now he would slight the matter for the music, and now the
music for the matter; but no, he must deal to each alike. Sometimes
too a flaw in the work galls him, and he would fain remove it, doing
for the poet that which his age denied him; but no, it is not in the
bond.”It
may be as well to explain here a very small share which I myself took
in the Vita Nuova
translation. When the volume
The Early Italian Poets
was in preparation, my brother asked me (January 1861) to aid by
“collating my Vita
Nuova with the
original, and amending inaccuracies.” He defined the work further
as follows: “What I want is that you should correct my translation
throughout, removing inaccuracies and mannerisms. And, if you have
time, it would be a great service to translate the analyses of the
poems (which I omitted). This, however, if you think it desirable to
include them. I did not at the time (on ground of readableness), but
since think they may be desirable: only have become so unfamiliar
with the book that I have no distinct opinion.” On January 25th he
wrote: “Many and many thanks for a most essential service most
thoroughly performed. I have not yet verified the whole of the notes,
but I see they are just what I needed, and will save me a vast amount
of trouble. I should very much wish that the translation were more
literal, but cannot do it all again.
My notes, which you
have taken the trouble of revising, are, of course, quite paltry and
useless.”In
order that the reader may judge as to this question of literality, I
will give here the literal Englishing of the Sonnet at p. 38, and the
paragraph which precedes it (I take the passage quite at random), and
the reader can, if he likes, compare this rendering with that which
appears in Dante Rossetti’s text:—
“After
the departure of this gentlewoman it was the pleasure of the Lord of
the Angels to call to His glory a lady young and much of noble[1]
aspect, who was very graceful in this aforesaid city: whose body I
saw lying without the soul amid many ladies, who were weeping very
piteously. Then, remembering that erewhile I had seen her keeping
company with that most noble one, I could not withhold some tears.
Indeed, weeping, I purposed to speak certain words about her death,
in guerdon of my having at some whiles seen her with my lady. And
somewhat of this I referred to in the last part of the words which I
spoke of her, as manifestly appears to him who understands them: and
then I composed these two Sonnets—of which the first begins, ‘Weep,
lovers’—the second, ‘Villain Death.’
“Weep,
lovers, since Love weeps,—hearkening what cause makes him wail:
Love hears ladies invoking pity, showing bitter grief outwardly by
the eyes; because villain Death has set his cruel working upon a
noble heart, ruining that which in a noble lady is to be praised in
the world, apart from honour. Hear how much Love did her honouring;
for I saw him lamenting in very person over the dead seemly image:
and often he gazed towards heaven, wherein was already settled the
noble soul who had been a lady of such gladsome semblance.”It
would be out of place to enter here into any detailed observations
upon the Vita Nuova,
its meaning, and the literature which has grown out of it. I will
merely name, as obvious things for the English reader to consult, the
translation which was made by Sir Theodore Martin; the essay by
Professor C. Eliot Norton; the translations published by Dr. Garnett
in his book entitled
Dante, Petrarch, Camoens, 124 Sonnets,
along with the remarks in his valuable
History of Italian Literature;
Scartazzini’s
Companion to Dante;
and the publications of the Rev. Dr. Moore, the foremost of our
living Dante scholars.W.
M. Rossetti.August
1899.
INTRODUCTION.
The
Vita Nuova (the
Autobiography or Autopsychology of Dante’s youth till about his
twenty-seventh year) is already well known to many in the original,
or by means of essays and of English versions partial or entire. It
is therefore, and on all accounts, unnecessary to say much more of
the work here than it says for itself. Wedded to its exquisite and
intimate beauties are personal peculiarities which excite wonder and
conjecture, best replied to in the words which Beatrice herself is
made to utter in the
Commedia: “Questi
fù tal nella sua
vita nuova.”[2]
Thus then young Dante
was. All that
seemed possible to be done here for the work was to translate it in
as free and clear a form as was consistent with fidelity to its
meaning; and to ease it, as far as possible, from notes and
encumbrances.It
may be noted here how necessary a knowledge of the
Vita Nuova is to
the full comprehension of the part borne by Beatrice in the
Commedia. Moreover,
it is only from the perusal of its earliest and then undivulged
self-communings that we can divine the whole bitterness of wrong to
such a soul as Dante’s, its poignant sense of abandonment, or its
deep and jealous refuge in memory. Above all, it is here that we find
the first manifestations of that wisdom of obedience, that natural
breath of duty, which afterwards, in the
Commedia, lifted up
a mighty voice for warning and testimony. Throughout the
Vita Nuova there is
a strain like the first falling murmur which reaches the ear in some
remote meadow, and prepares us to look upon the sea.Boccaccio,
in his Life of Dante, tells us that the great poet, in later life,
was ashamed of this work of his youth. Such a statement hardly seems
reconcilable with the allusions to it made or implied in the
Commedia; but it is
true that the Vita
Nuova is a book
which only youth could have produced, and which must chiefly remain
sacred to the young; to each of whom the figure of Beatrice, less
lifelike than lovelike, will seem the friend of his own heart. Nor is
this, perhaps, its least praise. To tax its author with effeminacy on
account of the extreme sensitiveness evinced by this narrative of his
love, would be manifestly unjust, when we find that, though love
alone is the theme of the
Vita Nuova, war
already ranked among its author’s experiences at the period to
which it relates. In the year 1289, the one preceding the death of
Beatrice, Dante served with the foremost cavalry in the great battle
of Campaldino, on the eleventh of June, when the Florentines defeated
the people of Arezzo. In the autumn of the next year, 1290, when for
him, by the death of Beatrice, the city as he says “sat solitary,”
such refuge as he might find from his grief was sought in action and
danger: for we learn from the
Commedia (Hell, C.
xxi.) that he served in the war then waged by Florence upon Pisa, and
was present at the surrender of Caprona. He says, using the
reminiscence to give life to a description, in his great way:—
“I’ve
seen the troops out of Caprona goOn
terms, affrighted thus, when on the spotThey
found themselves with foemen compass’d so.”(Cayley’s
Translation.)A
word should be said here of the title of Dante’s autobiography. The
adjective Nuovo,
nuova, or
Novello,
novella, literally
New, is often used
by Dante and other early writers in the sense of
young. This has
induced some editors of the
Vita Nuova to
explain the title as meaning
Early Life. I
should be glad on some accounts to adopt this supposition, as
everything is a gain which increases clearness to the modern reader;
but on consideration I think the more mystical interpretation of the
words, as New Life
(in reference to that revulsion of his being which Dante so minutely
describes as having occurred simultaneously with his first sight of
Beatrice), appears the primary one, and therefore the most necessary
to be given in a translation. The probability may be that both were
meant, but this I cannot convey.[3]